Can Putin Survive?
The Lessons of the Soviet Collapse
WORLD COMMUNISM IN 1962
FOR world Communism 1961 was the year of the great schism. "Polycentrism," a term apparently first used by Palmiero Togliatti in June 1956, is not yet in the dictionaries, but it has become a most important fact in world politics. In 1948, when Tito broke with Stalin, it was no more than a small cloud on the horizon; in 1956, after the Polish "October" and the Hungarian revolution, it had become a full-size specter in Communist demonology. Five more years sufficed to turn what was, at least outwardly, a united Communist camp into a battlefield for ideological supremacy and political leadership between two major and several minor centers. It even is no longer certain whether this struggle will not break the existing polycentric framework and move on to a lasting, irreparable rupture. Even if the Sino-Soviet conflict were somehow to be resolved (a most unlikely eventuality indeed), world Communism will never be the same again, for meanwhile other Communist parties in both Eastern and Western Europe have staked out their claims to independence and self-determination, and the national Communists in Asia and Africa have gone even further. Communist ideologists had spent much time developing their theories about the emergence of Communism as a world system, a social, political and economic community of free and sovereign peoples united by close bonds of international proletarian solidarity, by common interests and objectives. Their mutual relations were to be based on the principles of Marxism- Leninism. The argument rested on the denial of any objective reasons in the nature of the Communist commonwealth for conflicts between the states and parties belonging to it-very much in contrast to the conflicts between nations and states outside the Communist world.
In 1962 all of this sounds like bitter mockery. Whether or not there are "objective" reasons for discord may be a subject for unending scholastic disputations. Meanwhile, relations between Moscow and Tirana, in so far as they still exist, are not exactly based on proletarian solidarity, nor can Sino-Soviet relations be defined by any stretch of the imagination as either close or friendly; Italian and French Communists have engaged in ideological controversy that reflects disagreement on basic tenets of belief, and M. Sékou Touré, guided presumably by the principles of complete equality, mutual advantage and comradely assistance (to quote the 1960 declaration of Communist parties), gave the Soviet ambassador just 48 hours to leave Guinea. It is a list that could be prolonged (Jugoslavia, for one, has not been mentioned), and it shows clearly that an entire era in world Communism has come to an end. Since about one-third of mankind lives under Communist régimes, any such dispute was bound to have the most far-reaching political repercussions on the world situation in general. It had begun as a family quarrel-as so many of the most bitter disputes do; for an understanding of the mechanism of fatal family quarrels one must turn not to Marx, but to one of the favorite authors of the father of scientific socialism, the one who wrote "Hamlet," "Macbeth" and "King Lear." There is a touch of Shakespearean drama in the present turmoil in the Communist world.1
Both Communists and non-Communists now seek an explanation for the disarray in what was once the Communist bloc. The Marxists-Leninists have gone on record with a number of most un-Marxist explanations; instead of analyzing the political, social and economic roots of the conflict, they prefer to stress the deficiencies in the character of individual leaders or their intellectual incapacity to interpret correctly Marxist-Leninist theory. According to this analysis, everything is reduced to subjective factors-the ill-will or the stupidity of individuals; similarly, most Communists have been unable or unwilling to discuss Stalinism in anything but the most superficial terms. Their doctrine prevents them from probing any deeper; Stalinism, they are told, was not a cancer in the body politic of Soviet society, but a non-malignant growth that could easily (and painlessly) be removed; they have been promised that it will not, indeed cannot, reappear. Polycentrism, likewise, is officially regarded in the Soviet Union as a temporary aberration by well-meaning but confused foreign Communists.
In theory, Communists have always admitted the existence of national differences and have made allowances for them in their tactics. In practice, however, this never amounted to much more than lip service; substantial differences in approach were actively discouraged if not roundly condemned. All this has been done in the name of the principles of Marxism-Leninism; but Marxism is essentially a nineteenth-century doctrine and even the writings of V. I. Lenin provide little authoritative guidance on such contemporary issues as whether the Chinese communes are preferable to the Soviet kolkhozes, or the Sovkhozes to the Jugoslav agricultural coöperatives.
The Communist "revisionists" alone have made a more serious attempt to analyze and understand the tensions between the Communist parties and states-the Italians and the Poles in 1956, and again, with renewed vigor, after the 22nd Party Congress. According to Togliatti, the polycentric system corresponds most closely to the new situation in the international Communist movement, to the development in its doctrine and its changing structure. Jugoslav observers, who have had more time than the rest to ponder these questions, have stated in their theoretical writings that Communism is not a magic formula which will do away with conflicts and contradictions overnight. Edvard Kardelj has drawn attention to a point first made many years before by the social-democratic critics of Bolshevism- that the starting point of each country on its road to socialism was of paramount importance for its subsequent development. If the starting point was very low, it was more than likely that political backwardness would be perpetuated and perhaps even canonized as part of the great heritage of the past. Such heretical comments, needless to say, provoked the sharpest criticism in both Moscow and Peking.
There was no unanimity in the West with regard to the emergence of several autonomous centers in the Communist world. One school of thought was convinced that it was all a question of productive forces, and interpreted Russia's development from Stalin to Khrushchev and beyond mainly in terms of improving living standards that would, more or less automatically, lead toward a freer society; they now argue that recent disputes merely reflect the great disparity in the economic development of the different Communist countries. There is a grain of truth in this argument; the fact that the Chinese have their supporters in the more backward areas of the world, and Albania as their only European bastion, can hardly be quite accidental. Unfortunately, while backwardness breeds tyranny, it has yet to be proved that a rise in the standard of living leads in itself toward democracy. Czechoslovakia, economically the most prosperous Eastern bloc country, is politically among the most reactionary, and the economic progress achieved in East Germany over the past six or seven years has found no reflection in the political character of the Ulbricht régime. The "economic determinists" apart, expert opinion in the West has ranged from the prophets of an inevitable clash to those who deny the very possibility of conflict. Among those who foresaw Sino-Soviet tension at a very early stage was the late Wilhelm Starlinger, a German physician who wrote in 1951 that geopolitical factors beyond their own control would soon set the Soviet against the Chinese Communists. He reached a correct conclusion on the basis of a wrong assumption (for the struggle for mastery in Siberia and Outer Mongolia is not at present the main bone of contention between the two Communist super- powers), whereas the late Franz Borkenau, at about the same time, developed the more sophisticated theory that a conflict between Moscow and Peking was inevitable because totalitarian régimes were bound to establish their absolute control as far as they could; the unity of the Communist camp could be based only on domination, not on equality, and was thus bound to create discord. To this could have been added yet another apparent law of totalitarian societies-that there is no room at the top for more than one man or group of men.
At the other extreme it was contended until quite recently that a basic conflict between two or more Communist powers was impossible because, since all Communists agreed on essentials, any dispute among them could be of a tactical nature only. Some went even further and asserted that ostensible conflicts might be deliberately staged in order to mislead the West. This exaggerated view of the potency and validity of Marxist-Leninist doctrine led its proponents as far astray from realities as did the views of those who denied the importance of ideological motives altogether.
It has been suggested that we learn from a comparison between the centrifugal forces in world Communism today and those in the history of the papacy, especially in its very early days and again in the later Middle Ages. Some of these parallels seem attractive, especially at a distance; upon closer inspection they prove to be largely irrelevant if not actually misleading. For each historical situation is unique; Khrushchev and Mao bear no resemblance to Arius and Athanasius; the present age of crisis in the Communist camp and the era of the triple schism could not be more dissimilar. As a non-Marxist Russian writer correctly observed, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
Historical parallels, then, will not take us very far in the search for the causes of the split in the Communist camp. Two questions above all remain to be answered: one concerns the deeper reasons for the crisis; the other, Khrushchev's role in all this. What induced him to start it off? Could he not have prevented it by displaying a more conciliatory attitude?
A convincing case could perhaps be made to show that the strife in the Communist camp was originally caused, not by ideological disagreements, but mainly by what the Communists call "national peculiarities." The Russians and the Chinese, in other words, quarrel not over the correct ideological interpretation of Marx and Lenin, but because they are Russian and Chinese, dissimilar in national character, heirs to a markedly different cultural and social heritage, because their present political and economic interests diverge, despite all their internationalist professions. Even if Peking and Moscow had seen eye to eye with regard to, say, the Stalin cult, peaceful coexistence and the organization of agriculture, other bones of contention would in all probability have appeared. The fact that Peking now claims to be closer to Leninist orthodoxy is of no great significance. Only five years ago the Chinese leaders took a more "liberal" view on some issues than their Soviet comrades; five years hence they may criticize Moscow from yet another angle. When Tito and his colleagues quarreled with Stalin in 1948, they were to the "left" of the world Communist movement, more militant and aggressive; today they are definitely to its right. The ideological orientation has changed; what remains is the insistence on their right to autonomy.
Doctrinal considerations play an important part in all this, but not a decisive one. The conflict in the Communist camp is caused by the clash between unifying and centrifugal trends. The latter are now proving the stronger-since membership in the camp is on a national basis, and since the differences between the various Communist states are much more important than most Marxists-Leninists imagined. These countries set out on their road to Communism at various times and from different starting points, and yet it is doubtful whether the conflicts could have been prevented if they had all started at the same time and from the same point.
Why did Khrushchev deliberately provoke a fight that many think might otherwise have been delayed, if not perhaps indefinitely postponed? Communist societies are not exempt from the effects of crises and shocks; they only manifest themselves in a different way. Stalin had ruled his own country and the rest of the Communist world (with two notable exceptions) with an iron fist. Gradually his régime had become a hindrance to progress; it impeded the growth of the Soviet economy and imperiled the physical safety of its ruling stratum. Stalinism had to be done away with-but it could not be disavowed without destroying at the same time the dogma of the infallibility of the Soviet Communist Party leadership. It was precisely this dogma on which the "unshakeable unity" of the camp was founded; once it disappears, the most the Soviet leaders can hope for is to keep their leading role on the basis of their experience, and their economic and military power. There is a world of difference, however, between following the omniscient and omnipotent head of the only true faith and adherence to a worldly alliance, necessarily much looser in character, in which the members pick and choose when to follow the leader and when their own ways: an alliance in which leadership is no longer undisputed.
This transformation could at best have been only partially successful; the crisis, in any case, was of Stalin's making, not Khrushchev's. If Stalin, who was in so many ways in a stronger position, could not break Tito in 1948-49, Khrushchev cannot hope to coerce a foreign party boss in 1962, short of applying military pressure. Khrushchev did not provoke the crisis but merely brought it into the open. The Communist states had ceased to be a united camp long before, and the Russians had apparently decided to make an end to what must have appeared to them as the harmful, perhaps intolerable, pretense of unity where no real unity existed. Khrushchev's outburst against Hoxha, and "Hoxha's supporters," was neither spontaneous nor unprovoked. It was comparable, perhaps, to the behavior of the head of a supposedly happy and united family who has been driven beyond endurance by some of its members, who has had to support, cover up and bear the cost of all their escapades and misdeeds, without having any real control over them. Some of the Communist parties and countries had apparently got accustomed to doing what they liked, taking Soviet support for granted. Mr. Khrushchev may have felt as President Kennedy must occasionally feel, as he studies the dispatches from Paris, London, Bonn or NATO headquarters.
Sino-Soviet relations since the 22nd Congress have been marked by the desire of both sides to prevent an open break and by an equally pronounced inability to coöperate. An open break would be a major disaster and would cause irreparable harm to the prospects of Communism as a world movement; it would dwarf into insignificance all previous such disputes. But how can it be prevented except by an agreed division into spheres of interest that would be both unworkable and in utter contradiction to the basic tenets of Marxism-Leninism?
Until fairly recently it had been argued in Peking that the "bloc" needed a leader, and that such leadership could be provided only by the Soviet Union. But Mao always thought in terms of a special Chinese mission in East and Southeast Asia. Such ambitions have undoubtedly grown in the same measure as China's industry and military strength. In a long-term perspective Mao undoubtedly always assumed that "bloc" leadership would pass to China not only because China is the most populous country in the world but also because he believed his own interpretation and application of Marxism-Leninism to be much more orthodox, less afflicted by distortions and deviations, than the Soviet brand. A Chinese co-prosperity sphere in Asia is unworkable because most of China's neighbors are distrustful of Peking's territorial designs, and some of the neighboring Communist parties (such as the Indian and Mongolian) are openly hostile and would never voluntarily accept Chinese tutelage. China's friends are found further afield, and this makes a geographical division impossible. Any attempt to create agreed blocs on ideological lines seems equally impractical; it would raise more problems than it would solve, for the pro-Chinese elements within the Soviet sphere of influence would undoubtedly continue to look for guidance and support to Peking, and the pro-Soviet militants in the Chinese sphere would likewise maintain their allegiance to Moscow.
If no solution is in sight for the conflict of the two Communist super- powers, the situation in Eastern Europe is somewhat less complicated, though reactions have by no means been uniform. The liberals have become more liberal, the diehards have become, if possible, even more hostile to liberalization. The Soviet leaders feared the possible repercussions of the 22nd Congress, and almost immediately after it they launched a concentrated propaganda campaign to "keep the ideological offensive." Men like Georgiu Dej, Ulbricht and Novotny have been even more afraid of possible consequences than their Soviet comrades, as shown by the unwillingness of their press to publish in full the revelations about Stalin and Stalinism made at the 22nd Congress.
These leaders have all accepted the Khrushchev line and have sharply denounced Tirana and Peking on the one hand and the advocates of polycentric Communism on the other. But such support for Khrushchev is strictly limited to inter-bloc relations. In their own countries they now follow a path different from the Soviet road, deviating from the Soviet pattern as much as Gomulka or Togliatti.
In Czechoslovakia, the liquidation of the cult of the individual has been restricted in the main to the decision to move the 6,000-ton Stalin statue and to "cartographic destalinization" (a term actually coined in Eastern Europe). The Prague leaders have also engaged in Bolshevik self-criticism in a performance worthy of the good soldier Schweik. They were all misled by Slansky, Taussigova, Svab and the other victims of the 1952 trials, who are now accused of having been at one and the same time enemies and supporters of Stalin, foes and friends of Tito. Other Czech leaders, such as Gottwald and Zapotocki, have also come in for some criticism; fortunately, they are dead. As for the living, they never saw, heard or spoke evil. The Rumanian leaders, who were the last to react, were equally unwilling to commit political suicide by admitting their past "mistakes"; their local Stalinists (such as Pauker, Luca, Chisinevschi) were, it appears, purged long ago. But what about Georgiu Dej, the Party secretary- general-now, as under Stalin? Well, he could not do much, we learn now, since his telephone was tapped by the Paukers and Lucas. The Bulgars behaved in a slightly more dignified way and decided to oust a man who had been in partial disgrace for some years past, Vilko Chervenkov, one-time supreme Party boss. The Bulgarians also used the opportunity to rehabilitate fully Traicho Kostov, one of the chief victims of the régime, who had been partially rehabilitated in 1956. If Novotny delivered a 20,000- word report, and the Bulgarian Zhivkov needed 30,000, Ulbricht of East Germany was the most long-winded (35,000 words) and said less than anybody else. He gave the order to change the names of some cities, streets and factories, brought new accusations against some of his foes eliminated from the Party leadership long ago, and defended himself against allegations of having engaged in the cult of the individual. Being in the very front line of "imperialist attack," he had apparently persuaded Moscow that it would be unwise to weaken himself and his régime by misplaced self-criticism at this time. Kadar of Hungary, whose speech was the shortest, said, not without some justification, that the whole commotion did not really concern his country, since the leading Stalinists had been chased out of Budapest back in 1956. There was some relaxation in the cultural field in Hungary following the 22nd Congress, though less than in Poland. Gomulka had to dissociate himself from the open advocates of polycentrism, but he did so halfheartedly, declaring at the same time that there was no longer a "center" that could prescribe the policy to be followed by him, his Party and government. Jugoslavia and Albania, the old foes, found themselves outside the "camp"; the Albanians did not even wait for the end of the 22nd Congress to counterattack, whereas the Jugoslavs, the trail-blazers of polycentrism, could for once afford to watch the storm around them with a measure of equanimity.
Western European Communists, free of the burden and responsibilities of state power, diverged even more widely in their reactions. The ideological dispute was highlighted by the polemics between the Italian and French Communists, which go back to the year 1956 when Paris denounced Togliatti for his polycentric heresies. When the polemics were now resumed, the French predictably argued that unity was a precondition for the victory of Communism, that polycentrism would open the door to factionalism in the world movement. But the real quarrel was not about polycentrism, which is now an established fact, but about the use made of their new autonomy by the various Communist Parties. Togliatti, and even more the younger leaders of the Party, want to submit the Stalin era to a searching critique and to draw from it far-reaching conclusions for the present.
Why is it that the French Communists have opted for a policy that, but for the support for Khrushchev against Albania and China, is neo-Stalinist in character, whereas the Italians have now joined the extreme revisionist wing of the world Communist movement? This can undoubtedly be traced to the composition of the two Parties; both have strong mass support among industrial workers, but the French Party has always been far more Stalinist in character. At one time it attracted many intellectuals, but gradually antagonized most of them. Its top leadership has been subjected to many purges over the last decade. The Party has become ossified, though French domestic conditions apparently have a galvanizing effect even on fossils. The French Party is therefore little influenced by international affairs, whereas the Italian Party, being far more alive and sensitive, at once registered the shock. Its leadership is far superior to the French in political and general intelligence. Most of the other European Communist parties are somewhere in between these extremes of neo-Stalinism and "revisionism." For the time being the Italians are more or less in isolation. But there are signs that the tide is running in favor of Togliatti's views. The North African Communist parties, for instance, who had been for a long time under the guardianship of the French, have come to regard Rome as the place to turn for help and guidance in recent years.
The problems besetting European Communism appear strange and probably somewhat fanciful to the sister parties in other parts of the world. Most Communist Parties outside Europe have not expressed any strong views about destalinization and polycentrism. They were established as parties only in the last decade, and the whole Stalin period belongs for them to prehistory. While Frenchmen and Italians quarrel about whether Trotsky should be rehabilitated, the Ceylonese Communists have already entered an alliance with the local Trotskyites; the leadership of the Indian Communist Party has likewise engaged in highly unorthodox activities. These Parties have had a comparatively large measure of autonomy for several years. In part it was conceded to them for tactical reasons, in part they simply took it in the absence of a central institution exercising control over the activities of the various branches of world Communism.
In recent years the formerly clear dividing line between Communists, National Communists and sundry friends of the movement has been partly obliterated. In 1960, countries such as Cuba, Mali, Ghana and Guinea were elevated to the status of "National Democracies"-in contrast to other independent countries such as India, Indonesia and Egypt, still under the sway of the "national bourgeoisie." At the 22nd Soviet Party Congress, representatives of the Convention People's Party of Ghana, of the Guinea Democratic Party and the Union Soudanaise of Mali were treated as full- fledged comrades and were invited to address the Congress, a privilege bestowed only on Parties accepting all the changing articles of faith. Such practices, scheduled to create a reservoir of good will in the tiers monde, in fact contributed to the general confusion; only a month later, following the December 1961 "plot of the students and teachers," Sékou Touré had expelled the Soviet ambassador and accused Soviet and other foreign and local Communists of plotting against his rule. Mali is as unpredictable as Guinea from the Soviet point of view, and Ghana with its new official ideology of Nkrumahism looks an even less likely candidate for membership in the "camp." Dr. Castro is Russia's safest bet in this class; believing himself under strong pressure from "American imperialism," he is unlikely to bolt. But in a wider perspective he may not merit absolute confidence; he came to power, after all, without Soviet help. The men in Moscow know from bitter experience that such self-made revolutionaries are prone to cause difficulties later on.
The Cuban leaders want the whole of Latin America to follow their example; and it would appear that only such a brand of National Communism stands any chance of making headway in this hemisphere. But this in its turn would contribute to the emergence of yet another regional "center," and thus contribute to the spread of polycentric Communism. It is perhaps somewhat ironical that any progress by world Communism can now be achieved only by strengthening the centrifugal trends and thus weakening the movement from within. However ardent their feelings of friendship and admiration, there is no room for Russia and China in the blueprints of most non-European Communists for the future of their continents. To hamper Soviet activities even more, Chinese Communist propaganda in these parts is less than coöperative, and the disruptive theories of the Jugoslavs, those first secessionists, have gained wide currency in many of these capitals.
The very success of Communism in the underdeveloped countries has been its undoing. It has been adulterated and yields a strange harvest: under a veneer of Marxist-Leninist ideology, of anti-imperialist slogans and state capitalism, influences and interests are at work which have nothing to do with Marxism-Leninism and sometimes nothing to do with any European doctrine whatever. Communism is Africanized and Asianized even faster and more thoroughly than Christianity, because it is a secular movement and therefore in greater need of adaptation. The outcome is a mixture of Communist elements and components alien to it. Political scientists undertaking some form of qualitative analysis will have a hard job to establish the exact composition of the mixture and the character of each régime, and whether it belongs to the bloc or not. As the bloc is transformed into a polycentric system, and that system itself endangered by sudden shifts of political allegiance, it will be exceedingly difficult to determine who belongs where, especially as those most directly concerned may not always know the answer themselves.
Will Communist countries and Parties be able to coexist with each other? Their internal differences are in some ways more intractable than West-East tensions, precisely because each believes itself to be the sole possessor of the means of grace, because they are more dynamic, because their sense of mission is so much more acute. In these circumstances the heretic must appear as a traitor and hence a worse enemy than the open foe. Stalin could enter into a working alliance with Hitler but never with "Judas" Trotsky. But have there not been changes in the Soviet world in recent years? Has Soviet policy not become much more elastic? Isn't there still a large measure of common ground and interest which may prevail over all the disagreements? Were there not similar "national deviations" in the very early days of the Comintern which were successfully overcome? There are essential differences between the "National Communism" of the early twenties (in Germany, Turkey and some other countries) and present-day trends, just as the "revisionism" of 60 years ago is radically different in character from the contemporary trend of the same name. One was prehistoric, so to speak, the other is post-Communist, based on a confrontation with Communism in action. The earlier variety of National Bolshevism was an attempt from outside to water down Communism; present-day National Communism is a disruptive trend within the camp and hence infinitely more dangerous.
To an outsider, the dispute between Khrushchev and Mao, between Tito and Hoxha, between Togliatti and Thorez, may seem negligible; a contemporary Hindu may have reached similar conclusions with regard to the quarrel between Luther and Leo X. Communists may coexist; a final and lasting break may be prevented if they find a modus vivendi on the basis of mutual tolerance. But toleration is a state of mind notably absent from missionary movements, and from their point of view the Communists may rightly fear it; a slackening of the dynamism of the world movement, of its revolutionary zest and fervor, would have incalculable consequences. If factions are officially recognized on the international level, it would not be long before similar factions were established in each Communist Party. The monolithic unity would be broken, party democracy would be restored, and the Communist Parties would gradually become the same as other parties; for obviously there can be no iron discipline at home if there is anarchy within the world movement. It would be the end of Communism as we have known it in our time: the Communist Parties might remain radical, even revolutionary in character, but they would cease to be totalitarian.
Such prospects may seem almost unthinkable today, but what are the alternatives? An open break, followed by a struggle in which all means short of war would be used. Looking to the more distant future, toward a China stronger in industrial power and self-confidence and foolishly unafraid of an atomic holocaust, even the possibility of war between the Communist super-powers cannot be entirely ruled out. Most likely, at least for the foreseeable future, is a state of "neither war nor peace," an uneasy coexistence based not on toleration of the rival but on the impossibility of overthrowing him. Thaws will alternate with freezes, attempts to iron out existing differences and resume closer contacts will give way to the fiercest political and propaganda warfare; in short, it will be a state of cold war.
There seems to be no short cut leading the Communists out of the predicament now facing them. A greater measure of organizational unity between them is now impossible. If even Stalin did not contemplate merging the East European countries with Russia into one Communist superstate, such a development is utterly impossible in other continents among the newly independent countries where nationalist passions play an even more important role. The degree of cohesion of the world Communist movement is reflected in the history of its international organization. The Comintern exercised a fairly close control over all its members; the Cominform (in the words of Togliatti) did only two things: it published a weekly newspaper and condemned Tito. Since the dissolution of the Cominform, an even looser form of coördination has prevailed: yearly meetings, not unlike the Councils of the Catholic Church in past centuries, convoked to publish lengthy manifestos. In the past, these meetings were apparently preceded by private discussions between the Soviet and Chinese leaders, agreeing as best they could and then bringing the resulting compromise before the assembly of the 80-odd Communist Parties. This practice too has now broken down. Instead, a tug-of-war ensued and a jockeying for positions in which small Parties, temporarily at any rate, have assumed an importance out of proportion to their real strength. It is a situation somewhat reminiscent of the United Nations General Assembly, and the big powers are showing signs of impatience.
What should Western policy be vis-à-vis these tensions in the Communist world? In a short-range perspective, Communist pressure on the West will certainly not lessen; it may even increase temporarily since the Parties concerned may have to prove their undiminished militancy and fervor. But in a more distant view the lines dividing the two present power blocs may well become more blurred-a prospect that need not necessarily dismay the West. The West should follow with cautious sympathy, as it has done, the endeavor of some Communist parties and states to shed the heritage of tyranny and totalitarianism; it should keep a line open to all the sides irrespective of their orientation at this moment, but make no effort to intervene at any point. World politics are moving toward a new stage which may be full of surprises and in which man?uvrability will be an important asset. 1 ". . . those were difficult, dramatic moments. It was not for nothing that Chisinevschi received the nickname of Iago, the prototype of the intriguer." (Scanteia, December 12, 1961. Speech by Petru Borila to the Central Committee of the Rumanian Communist Party on the activities of the local "anti-party" group.)