Rubles for victory: the social dynamics of state fundraising on the Soviet home front.
The enormity of these contributions is striking. No less striking is the fact that they poured in at a time when Soviet money had become nearly worthless but was still desperately needed. To pay for the war, the Soviet government turned to the printing press: by 1 January 1946, there were 69 billion rubles in circulation, up from just 18.4 billion at the start of the war, according to one estimate. (3) Although wages increased somewhat due to the pressures placed on the industrial workplace, the purchasing power of the ruble plummeted as a result of massive inflation and severe shortages. (4) As resources were diverted from the consumer economy to the front, factories assigned portions of their labor forces to growing food to feed their workers. (5) Soviet retail prices, unified with the end of rationing in 1935, split once again into commercial and ration prices. Commercial shops charged higher prices for scarce goods and catered to the wartime elite. (6) Ration prices stayed low and did not change during the war; however, there was frequently nothing to buy at these prices. The prices of goods in the peasant markets, to which workers had long turned when factory stores' shelves were bare, multiplied exponentially as a result. By the second half of 1943, market prices for agricultural products were 13.9 times higher, on average, than they had been in 1940.7 Peasants often refused urban customers' money and bartered for consumer goods, especially toward the beginning of the war. (8) By its end, the countryside held twice the amount of money cities did, fueling bitter anger toward peasant "millionaires." (9) The Soviet ruble was drained of economic value and permeated with social tensions.
Yet workers and peasants on the home front gave billions to the state during this period of great privation and uncertainty. (10) Soviet officials offered a simple explanation, chalking up enthusiastic contributions to patriotism and selflessness: at any moment, Soviet patriots were "ready to give their strength, their financial resources, and even their lives for the good of the nation, to defend her freedom, honor, and independence," claimed Arsenii Grigor'evich Zverev, the people's commissar of finance (Narodnyi komissariat finansov, Narkomfin) in 1943.11 A more pragmatic explanation lies precisely in the inflated ruble and the precariousness of daily life: Soviet civilians willingly handed over these sums because money mattered less when it came to procuring necessities than maintaining the social relations that governed access to them. This helps explain why the majority of workers did not resist the pressure to participate in fundraising campaigns, especially those that took place on the shop floor, but it does not explain why individuals often went far beyond the amounts asked of them, sometimes offering the equivalent of two or three months' wages for war bonds rather than the three to four weeks' pay campaign slogans called for. Nor does it explain why peasants, who were not paid in money for their work on collective farms, and who received no rations and were long believed to have a "petty bourgeois" attitude toward money, parted so readily with their rubles. To address the question of how and why Soviet state fundraising--or "mobilizing the people's financial resources" (privlechenie sredstva naseleniia), as it was called--proved so successful at attracting enormous and occasionally excessive contributions, this article examines the social dynamics of these campaigns, focusing on war bonds (voennye zaimy) and tickets to "cash-and-goods" lotteries (denezhno-veshchevye loterei) sold by subscription, and organized cash donations. (12)
The decision to contribute large sums of money represented a social calculation, one that added up differently for members of the elite (and aspiring members) than for ordinary workers and peasants. Money carries social meanings, and individuals frequently make decisions about it that are not "rational" from a traditional economic standpoint: in a seminal work on the subject, the economic sociologist Viviana A. Zelizer shows that money is not merely a single, neutral means of exchange or unit of cost--benefit analysis, and people routinely assign different meanings to it, adopting elaborate nonmarket controls over its use. (13) Soviet state bonds, with their distant redemption dates and low interest, were unattractive investments well before the war, which suggests that their benefits were primarily social. Eugenia Belova and Valery Lazarev have recently argued that purchasing state bonds was a way for candidate party members to demonstrate loyalty, a strategy that incurred onerous costs in the short term but paid off in privileges later. (14) Activists had a personal stake in the stability and future of the regime into which they invested significant time and money. (15) In this vein, Soviet civilians on upward career and party tracks offered substantial monetary contributions to maintain or raise their social standing. In the tense atmosphere of war, these contributions also possibly helped head off accusations of "sitting it out" in the rear. (16)
In contrast, ordinary civilians, who did not necessarily possess such ambitions, were often compelled to give more than they wanted to or could afford out of a desire to avoid social penalties. In the Soviet Union, the decision to participate in state fundraising campaigns was subject to coercive social pressures that, by World War II, formed a long-familiar ritual. It is impossible to understand wartime fundraising without placing it in a longer trajectory of Stalinist fundraising practices, especially those surrounding the "mass subscription bonds" (massovye podpisaemye zaimy) to which all Soviet citizens were required to devote burdensome portions of their incomes from 1927 onward. The Stalinist fundraising apparatus carefully monitored these contributions, guiding citizens to the appropriate amounts to give while nominally maintaining that the decision was fully voluntary and the enormous sums these campaigns generated were "spontaneous" (stikhiinye) displays of support for Soviet power.
The mass subscription bond campaign evoked the old notion of "collective responsibility" (krugovaiaporuka), which was initially devised to distribute the tax burden imposed by the tsarist state on peasant communes among their individual members and then, according to several scholars, resurfaced in Soviet practices and in everyday life. (17) Village elders and prominent members of the community used their local authority to realize the principle of collective responsibility through informal justice. (18) Accordingly, Soviet workplaces divided up the collective burden of mass subscription bonds, with authorities and activists taking on larger shares to influence others' decisions about how much to contribute. The decision not to participate, or to give less than everyone else, activated coercive social pressures to ensure that the withholding member of the group handed over the money in at least the minimum amount demanded, for the principle of collective responsibility meant that the burden would otherwise fall on the rest.
The same dynamics that had animated mass subscription bond campaigns during the industrialization drive continued and were intensified during the war. Coercive mass subscription practices shaped the sale of war bonds and lottery tickets, as well as fundraising that was not directly subject to participation quotas--namely, donating one's life savings or last rubles to the front. Civilians were constantly reminded that the Soviet Union's very survival was at stake and victory required not just their energetic labor but enormous sums of money. Activist contributors emerged to set high standards for everyone else. Wartime contributions to state fundraising initiatives were thus the sum of voluntarism and coercion. The precise balance between these influences varied in individual decision making; however, in the aggregate, the interplay between them helped ratchet up contributions, ensuring the steady flow of rubles out of pocketbooks into state coffers and out to the front.
The Emergence of the "Mass Subscription" Model
Wartime mass fundraising campaigns have been mostly mentioned by scholars in passing, in terms of their great propaganda value and their role in financing the war effort. To date, the question of why these were seemingly so successful at mobilizing the people's personal finances has not been studied. In his recent work on wartime propaganda, Karel C. Berkhoff notes that donations of money and overtime labor were "the real bright spots" in propaganda regarding citizens' voluntary duties; by contrast, donated food, clothing, and other gifts had less propaganda value, since their destinations were classified and these donations often never reached the front. (19)
In their analyses of the wartime state budget, the economic historians Mark Harrison and James R. Millar both observe the Soviet government's increased reliance on internal financial resources. Examining archival sources, Mark Harrison points out that the official budget balance recorded increases in revenues from savings deposits, bond sales, funds generated from Western aid, and tariffs on American lend-leased goods, though they were insufficient to balance the budget and finance a 20 percent deficit of the net material product he identifies in 1942-45. (20) Semicompulsory bond sales, direct taxes, and foreign transactions took the place of indirect taxes in the state budget as the state consumer market shrank. (21) Working two decades earlier with published figures, Millar maintained that the wartime budget relied more heavily on financial channels than it had previously, deriving increased revenues from state bonds and direct taxes. (22) Financing a war, Millar suggests, involves inducing people and organizations to make the necessary resources available. (23) As long as the government maintains control of the banking and currency systems, the problem is not a matter of finding the funds but of "avoiding or minimizing untoward consequences of spending the huge sums modern warfare requires and of the way in which the fiscal burden of the war is allocated among and influences the behavior of the various members and classes of society, present and future." (24) Soviet wartime financial policy, in Millar's analysis, was aimed not at increasing the population's saving per se but at preserving incentives to work and contribute. (25)
Among combatant nations in World War II, the Soviet government was not alone in asking citizens to make personal monetary contributions to the war effort. Nazi Germany did not try to convince its citizens to buy long-term war bonds, as Gotz Aly has shown, opting for "silent" or "invisible" loans instead: the government quietly borrowed money directly from savings banks and credit unions, who made long-term investments using the short term savings of their customers. (26) At the same time, it mobilized the people's finances through small, symbolic donations. Peter Fritzsche argues that the most visible manifestations of the "people's community," or sense of national solidarity the Nazis promoted, were the "winter relief campaigns," during which party members, Hitler youth, and other volunteers went door-to-door carrying red boxes into which citizens deposited their "saved" deutschmarks and pfennigs. (27) The regime regarded each year's record-breaking receipts as evidence of the people's political satisfaction and social commitment. (28) Among the Allies, the U.S. war bonds campaign has received the most attention from historians. It successfully mobilized popular support for combat troops and for the "American way of life" to sell state bonds in record numbers. (29) James T. Sparrow argues that the war bonds helped democratize the meaning of "fiscal citizenship": for the first time, ordinary Americans joined banks, corporations, and the wealthy in financing the government. (30) As the economist Hugh Rockoff notes, war bonds helped cushion the effects of reduced purchasing power in the United States during the war by reducing inflationary pressure and retaining the incentive to work; taxes provided no such incentive. (31) One postwar State Planning Committee (Gosplan) report noted that bonds and other fundraising strategies exerted a similar "positive influence" in the Soviet wartime economy, siphoning off excess currency that could not be spent due to shortages in the retail system. (32)
Unlike these governments, the Soviet Union had been engaged in crisis-mode state fundraising for almost two decades before the war, and the specific form this took under Stalin distinguished its approach to mobilizing the people's personal finances during it. Domestic bonds were an integral source of revenue from 1922 onward. The earliest emerged during the New Economic Policy in an effort to tame wild inflation and stabilize the fragile postrevolutionary economy. Soviet financial planners gravitated toward "lottery bonds" (vyigryshnye zaimy), which earned small-to-no interest and functioned simultaneously as lottery tickets eligible for cash prizes and early redemption. Although lotteries had come to be viewed as a form of gambling and were prohibited in many countries, lottery bonds were widely sold throughout Europe at the turn of the 20th century, including in Russia. (33) Soviet authorities, however, favored them for the same reason that other governments have turned to them: they are an effective strategy to tap the resources of lower-income and loss-averse citizens who might not otherwise be inclined to save money. (34) After repudiating the tsarist government's foreign debt, the Bolsheviks could not obtain credit; and after expropriating the old elites and nationalizing industry, only the masses remained as an accessible source of revenue.
At the Fifteenth Party Conference in 1926, it was argued that the pace of industrialization would depend, in part, on making greater use of citizens' incomes and savings as sources of state revenue. (35) This necessitated a new bond format ensuring that all workers and peasants contributed. After launching a successful trial run in 1927, "mass subscription bonds" were issued to support each phase of the Five-Year Plans and other state initiatives. Continuing to take the form of lottery bonds, these instruments were now distinct in that they were sold during ideologically charged campaigns in the workplace and that their purchase was debited directly from workers' salaries or paid in cash by peasants. Subscription quotas were established for the union as a whole, the republics, their oblasts, and for urban and rural subscribers. Urban quotas were based on the average monthly wage fund (fond zarplaty), and a successful campaign within a factory saw each worker subscribing for at least 100 percent of his or her average monthly wage. The subscribed sum was deducted in installments before the worker received his or her pay in cash, usually with a short reprieve before the next campaign began. By contrast, voluntary "market" bonds (rynochnye zaimy), targeted primarily at wealthier members of the elite, were sold outside the workplace and not subject to the same mass campaigns, rigid quotas, and pressure to subscribe. (36)
Western economists have long considered it unlikely that Soviet citizens willingly invested substantial sums in bonds amid the price inflation and low real wages that characterized the Soviet economy. Millar argued that the Soviet government used "hard sell" methods, mobilizing both informal and formal pressure, as demonstrated by the fact that mass subscription bond issues were always oversubscribed by considerable margins. (37) Franklyn D. Holzman argued that Soviet state bonds were a forced investment, although he suggested it was possible that workers initially invested out of revolutionary fervor. (38) Holzman came to the conclusion that they were better classified as a form of taxation. (39)
Indeed, the bonds functioned like a tax because they were virtually compulsory and deducted from workers' salaries, but they were not income taxes per se, which were vehemently criticized as a form of capitalist exploitation. (40) Workers' investments in bonds were never publicly deemed anything but voluntary, supposedly drawing on their spare money and savings. (41) The key to understanding why they were enormously successful as a state fundraising strategy lies in their quasi-voluntary nature, as Holzman noted, but also in the bonds' inherent flexibility. Ardent Communists could offer more than 100 percent of the sum of their monthly wages if they so desired, while it was possible in theory for low-income workers to give reduced amounts or nothing at all. The bonds were more ideologically compatible with Soviet socialism and more malleable than income taxes as a source of revenue.
Since the Soviet government relied on their revenue to fulfill its economic plans, however, it could not leave decisions regarding the bonds entirely up to the individual citizen. The decision was thus made subject to collective input, involving the "hard sell" methods identified by Millar but also more insidious forms of peer pressure. The most overt input came from the Commissions for Contributions to State Credit and Savings (Komissii sodeistviia goskreditu i sberegatel'nomu delu, better known by the acronym komsody). Financial activists in these commissions functioned much like the village elders of yore during tax season. The komsody allegedly emerged at the spontaneous initiative of workers during the first mass subscription bond campaign in 1927; they were permanent fixtures of Soviet factories, farms, organizations, and executive committees by 1929. Composed of no less than four members, they featured a mix of authorities and ordinary members of the industrial workplace or collective farm. There were around 700,000 komsody across the Soviet Union by 1934, with over 2.5 million members working "to strengthen and widen the financial base of socialist construction." (42) The central komsod governing their activities was eventually liquidated in 1937, but the komsody remained embedded in Soviet workplaces for decades afterward.
Although these were technically volunteer roles, it would be inaccurate to consider them merely "boosters": as with other activists in the Soviet Union in the 1930s, they helped implement state policy. (43) A komsod's, official function was to conduct "mass agitation-explanatory work" (massovaia agitatsionnaia-raz "iasnitel 'naia rabota) regarding the vital contribution of the bonds to socialist construction during the campaign and to provide services to bondholders afterward, such as routinely checking for colleagues' unclaimed winnings. This was a somewhat valuable service, since the winning serial numbers were published in newspapers and personal subscriptions were rare. Many citizens' winnings went unnoticed for months and even years. They periodically organized "Bondholder Days" to check an entire workplace's bonds against the list of winners, usually around the time of the new annual subscription campaign to generate enthusiasm for subscribing once again.
Their unofficial task was to ensure that their coworkers met and ideally surpassed subscription norms. To do so, the komsody pitted workers, brigades, and workshops against one another to subscribe in ever higher amounts, while factories and collective farms competed against other enterprises in their region, similar to the practice of "socialist competition" (sotssorevnovanie) that existed in industrial production. (44) A common strategy employed by the komsody was to identify and celebrate model subscribers who gave generously and then to call on others to look to their example. This escalation of subscription sums was partially advantageous to komsody activists themselves, since the position was not unpaid: they were eligible for monetary bonuses consisting of a percentage of the total sum of subscriptions they individually collected. In the mid-1930s, komsody members received bonuses of 0.15 percent in the cities and 0.25 percent in the countryside. (45)
Refusing to purchase bonds or offering less than others invited criticism and shaming at best and political accusations at worst. One could expect to be pulled aside for an "explanatory" chat or publicly scolded by members of the komsody and workplace authorities. "You signed up just in order to have peace," one respondent to the Harvard Project on the Soviet Social System complained to his interviewer about the workplace campaigns. "If you did not sign up you were regarded as counter-revolutionary and pro-capitalist and pro-fascist." (46) During mass gatherings with workers, resolutions about the minimum contributions expected of them were frequently put to vote by a show of hands and, as another respondent told her interviewer, "There was never a vote cast against such a resolution." (47) Pressure was placed on each member of the group to pull his or her weight, not only by the komsody but by other members of the group. "There was a man in our enterprise who did not want to buy bonds, because he was not able to," another respondent explained, "He was called a wrecker and a disrupter of the norm because his not buying bonds meant that 100 percent of the workers would [not] be buying bonds." (48)
In 1930, amid the "unification" of Soviet state bonds--the conversion of all previously issued bonds into a new "Five-Year Plan in Four Years" bond featuring a later redemption date and lower interest rate--the komsody were given "social control" (obshchestvennyi kontrol) over the bonds. Social control gave them the right to decide if workers were allowed to mortgage or sell back their bonds when they fell into financial straits. Petitioning the komsody to sell bonds was easier said than done, as another Harvard Project respondent explained: "I was refused the opportunity to sell obligatsii; they said in the trade union that I already had a large salary. But there were times when they would allow a cleaning woman or someone like that to sell [them]." (49) In 1936, when the bonds were converted once again, the practice of requiring a special decision from one's komsod to mortgage bonds was discontinued, and workers could do so at a local savings bank, although permission was still required to cash them in. (50)
Though they were exposed to the same propaganda and criticism by the rural komsody and local authorities, peasants contributed significantly less to mass subscription bonds than their urban counterparts. One cause for their reluctance was the fact that their contributions were expected in hard cash, which cut into the income they derived from private agricultural activities, the source of the majority of their monetary resources after collectivization. Central komsod reports from the 1930s bemoaned the countryside's lackluster participation rates: for example, although the annual plan for overall bond subscriptions in 1931 was fulfilled by 104.1 percent and every krai, oblast, and autonomous republic reported overfulfilled plans for workers' subscriptions, not a single one managed to overfulfill its quota for rural subscriptions. (51) Among collective farmers, average regional subscriptions ranged from 54.3 percent to a high of 98.8 percent, but only 12 regions managed to achieve rates higher than the average of 74.8 percent. (52) The average amount subscribed for by a worker was 35.80 rubles, while the average amount subscribed for by a collective farmer was only 20 rubles. (53) In the collective responsibility between town and village, workers and white-collar employees often bore the brunt of fulfilling regional subscription quotas.
The Mass Subscription Campaign Goes to War
By the time Nazi Germany invaded the Soviet Union in the summer of 1941, the mass subscription campaign and its concomitant collective pressures had proved to be a relatively effective, if coercive, fundraising strategy generating billions of rubles for industrialization and socialist construction. Just as the militarization of labor prior to the war helped the Soviet Union rapidly convert its economy to a war footing, the mass subscription campaign would allow it to extract the enormous funds required for a Soviet victory. Not just civilians' tireless labor was needed but also their money: "We'll beat the fascists with labor, and we'll win the war with rubles!" an elderly worker at the Stalin auto plant allegedly declared at the start of the 1942 campaign. (54)
The first war bond was not issued until the spring of 1942, because the subscription campaign for the fourth issue of the Third Five-Year Plan bond was still wrapping up when Nazi Germany invaded. (55) It was decreed on 14 April 1942 for a sum of 10 billion rubles. (56) Two issues were sold: an inexpensive lottery bond aimed at the urban population and a more expensive bond offering 4 percent annual interest targeted at collective farmers and craftsmen, both with terms of 20 years. The lottery bonds were sold under the slogan "Three to Four Weeks' Wages to the State War Bond of 1942!" and could be purchased in denominations of 10 to 500 rubles. (57) Prizes of 200 to 50,000 rubles could be won. The second, third, and fourth war bonds of 1943-45 featured the same terms and conditions as the first, with higher sums: 12 billion, 25 billion, and 25 billion, respectively.
The wartime bond campaigns were modeled on the mass subscription campaigns of the late 1920s and 1930s. If purchasing a bond had once been a display of ideological support for socialist construction, it was now a matter of patriotism: "Fulfill your patriotic duty [dolg] before the Fatherland--all as one, subscribe to the State War Bond of 1942!" A variation on this theme had Soviet citizens performing a "sacred duty" (sviashchennyi dolg) to give all possible assistance to the front. "Not one toiler without a State War Bond of 1942!" read an updated version of a common prewar slogan.
The same peer pressures were applied in the workplace. Prior to the campaign, komsod activists obtained lists of the salaries of each worker in their factory from the workplace accountant, as well as lists of every member of each brigade, workshop, and department. (58) This allowed them to assess the sum for which each member of each collective could afford to subscribe before they approached that person with pen and paper in hand. Each komsod member was instructed to focus on a group of 20-25 workers, engaging them in personal conversations and smaller friendly meetings outside the mass gatherings. (59) The campaign itself typically lasted about a week after it was announced on the evening radio, a compressed schedule that allowed for the first payments on the bonds to be received by the start of the next month.
Although they are formulaic and feature heavy editorializing, trade union reports on the progress of the bond campaigns within their industries provide us with a glimpse of the mass subscription approach in action. On day one, all the workers in an enterprise assembled to learn about the terms of the new bond and listen to rousing speeches from activists and workplace authorities. The speakers reported in trade union reports are overwhelmingly female and older, reflecting both the demographics of who remained in the rear and the expectations placed on those who could not give their bodies to the front, amid the emerging cult of the war with its youthful "saints and martyrs." (60) As one female worker explained to her colleagues: "Our fathers and brothers are spilling their blood. We, women of the front, can help out in industry, but more direct assistance is needed from us to strike a blow at the enemy and destroy him. Our help is to subscribe to the bond." (61)
The speeches morphed into a series of reciprocating and escalating challenges. Activists pushed others to give more by offering sums that exceeded the standard of one month's wages and what they could admittedly afford. At the Bol 'shevichka sewing factory in Moscow, for example, Comrade Gorel'chikova allegedly declared: "Let our hard-earned ruble plunge like a stone into the heart of bloody Hitler! I earn 250 rubles a month, I am subscribing for 500 rubles, and I call on my comrades to follow my lead." (62) In another workshop, a cleaning lady named Krasakova, whose husband was away at the front, subscribed for 200 rubles, despite her meager salary of 160, after telling the crowd: "In previous years, I never subscribed for any more than 50 rubles, not because I thought it was unnecessary, but out of material difficulties. Even now it isn't easy for me. But I would deny myself and my children even the bare necessities to destroy the German invaders and mongrels. I want to help my government make short work of the hated enemy Hitlerite hordes." (63)
Higher-ranking members of the workplace gave amounts that corresponded to their elevated positions, often exceeding the sums offered by activists. According to a 1943 report, leaders and managers within the People's Commissariat of Foreign Trade (Narkomvneshtorg) "unanimously and through their personal examples facilitated the swift collection of bond subscriptions." (64) The director of the machine technology import office, Comrade Shlezinger, subscribed for 333.3 percent of his monthly salary, while the head of another department of Narkomvneshtorg subscribed for 300 percent. (65)
After the speeches concluded, the komsody distributed subscription sheets. Workers could subscribe individually or collectively as members of smaller groups, settling on a subscription sum and divvying it up among members. According to trade union reports, subscription quotas were swiftly fulfilled; for example, within just 12 hours of the start of the 1942 campaign, every employee in Kurgan's knitting factory, which had been evacuated from Odessa, had collectively subscribed for 150 percent of the wage fund. (66) Most were "swept up" (okhvat) during this initial burst, while others on sick leave or business trips were later individually visited by the komsody. If prior to the war, the vast majority of citizens paid for their bonds via deductions, it was now seen as a more zealous display of support to hand over the money immediately instead of waiting until payday. (67) Medical personnel in Sverdlovskaia, Molotovskaia, and Cheliabinskaia oblasts, for example, rounded up over 28,000, 25,000, and 19,000 rubles, respectively, on the very first day of the 1942 campaign. (68)
Although most citizens subscribed without fuss, not all submitted to the pressure to do so. As P. Charles Hachten observes, some workers saw the bond campaigns as an opportunity to negotiate with their bosses, who were forced to engage in "supplicatory-like" behavior to meet subscription quotas. (69) Workers sometimes refused to purchase the bonds because they had not received goods and services to which they argued they were entitled. As Hachten puts it, "bond campaigns were a moment when otherwise dependent employees held the cards against their paternalistic employers." (70) In his observation, Soviet citizens never expressed personal interest as the reason why they chose to buy state bonds, but they regularly mentioned their interests when refusing to purchase them. (71) Hachten notes that bond campaigns emphasized a "harmony of interests" between workers and the government, a discourse that did not admit the possibility of conflict, although in fact it often arose. (72)
In the countryside, after a general meeting of all the peasants in a collective farm, authorized agents (upolnomochennye) went door-to-door to peasants' homes, collecting subscriptions in cash. (73) Peasants technically had the choice to pay for their subscriptions on an installment basis like workers, but, as financial activists were told in a 1942 handbook, "practice shows that peasants prefer to give the entire sum or, at any rate, the majority of it, immediately." (74) This was certainly wishful thinking. By the fourth war bond, this advice had evolved into a warning: "practice shows that when the collection of subscriptions is not combined with the collection of money, the receipt of contributions drags on, and a portion of the funds is often never received," suggesting that peasants continued to be reluctant to hand over the money on the spot. (75) By the second half of the war, central authorities explicitly viewed the bond campaigns as an opportunity to regain some of the excess money that had fallen into peasants' hands. One 1943 telegram to local party authorities expressly indicated that the "rural population has significant cash holdings," and instructed them to dispatch workers to personally collect subscriptions from peasants on a differential basis, depending on each farm's income rather than the general fixed amounts--they were instructed to encourage peasants, as a whole, to subscribe for big (krupnye) sums. (76)
The mass subscription bond campaigns proved extremely effective at wrenching billions of rubles from civilians' incomes during the war. According to reports from the Main Administration of State Savings Banks and State Credit (Glavnoe upravlenie gosudarstvennykh trudovykh sberkass i goskredita, Gostrudsberkass), the branch of Narkomfin responsible for mass fundraising, every war bond was oversubscribed within about a week of its announcement: urban quotas were substantially overfulfilled across the Soviet Union and in the Russian republic while rural quotas were moderately overfulfilled, except in the case of the fourth war bond of 1945, when rural subscriptions fell slightly lower than expected sums. (77) If in 1940, 5 percent of the annual wage fund was withheld to cover workers' bond subscriptions, withholdings rose to 11.1 percent in 1943 to cover state bonds, lotteries, and donations to the Red Army, reaching a peak of 12.1 percent in 1944, and dropping to 9.7 percent in 1945. (78) The vast majority of the sums withheld went to war bonds.
This approach also proved its usefulness with another wartime fundraising instrument: cash-and-goods lotteries. Lotteries were initially banned in the Soviet Union during the postrevolutionary attack on gambling; however, by the early 1920s, their fiscal benefits had been reconsidered. After a failed attempt to hold a state lottery in 1922--23, the Soviet government prohibited local governments from organizing lotteries but allowed voluntary organizations to hold them, which they did throughout the 1920s and 1930s to fundraise for a variety of socialist causes. (79) The state's hands-off approach came to an end in November 1941, when the first cash-and-goods lottery organized by Narkomfin was decreed.
Lottery tickets were sold in precisely the same manner as war bonds: enterprises were expected to meet subscription quotas, and payments were deducted from workers' salaries in installments. Although subscriptions were supposed to be conducted "on a fully voluntary basis" (na osnove polnoi dobrovol'nosti), workers were encouraged to subscribe in amounts that complied with suggested deductions. (80) In 1942, that was set at 7.3 percent of the average monthly wage fund in the Russian republic. (81) It reached 8.8 percent in 1943 and 12.7 percent in 1944. (82) These contributions were in addition to the sums deducted from workers' salaries for war bonds. As with state bonds, peasants' contributions were demanded in cash: in the Russian Soviet Federated Socialist Republic (RSFSR) in 1942, that sum was 73 rubles per yard (dvor); in 1943, 138 rubles; and in 1944, 208 rubles. (83) These expected contributions were based on collective farmers' predicted incomes and contemporary prices for agricultural produce on the peasant markets. (84) Almost no tickets were sold in the countryside during the first cash-and-goods lottery. (85) With the second, third, and fourth lotteries, however, peasants were expected to contribute far more than urban residents; in 1943 and 1944, they were asked to purchase more than twice the sum of ticket sales expected of city dwellers. (86)
The same pressure tactics of the bond campaigns were deployed to ensure that lottery quotas were swiftly met. According to a "word-for-word" 0bukval'no) retelling by the chairwoman of the fur workers' union in Kazan, the lottery campaign in their industrial combine unfolded as follows: at a mass gathering of workers held immediately after the lottery's announcement on the radio, Comrade Nikitina called on her colleagues to step up to the challenge and subscribe for twice the suggested amount. (87) "We know that this is important," she declared, "and in the name of our workshop, I attest that we will all subscribe as one for not less than 15 percent of our monthly wage. We call upon the dye workers." Immediately after her, a dye worker named Sharifzianova declared: "We have never held back and today we do not hold back, we support our government. We accept the challenge of the finishing workshop." A watchman at the plant, who had recently returned from the front, piped up: "The point is not the prize. The point is that this money will pay for planes, antitank cannons and other weapons." By 11:00 pm, the entire evening shift of the second factory had been "swept up" for subscriptions and, by the next day, 85 percent of workers had subscribed.
As with the bonds, one could subscribe individually or as a member of a collective. In 1942, a group of high-ranking officials including Viacheslav Molotov, Aleksei Kosygin, Andrei Vyshinskii, Mikhail Kalinin, and three lesser-known colleagues subscribed as a collective to the second cash-and-goods lottery to the sum of 6,020 rubles, with Vyshinskii alone contributing 2,000 rubles toward lottery tickets. (88) Nikolai Voznesenskii, then chairman of the Council of Ministers, subscribed individually for 1,000 rubles to be paid in five installments of 200 rubles. (89) As with the bonds, citizens of elevated social standing were expected to set an example for others by offering substantial pledges. Newspapers showed images of Stakhanovites, foremen, and managers rallying their coworkers to subscribe and distributing the paper lottery tickets among them. (90)
Some individuals went far beyond the suggested deductions: for example, a Moscow metro worker, a certain Iasnitskii, subscribed for the equivalent of 40 percent of his monthly wage in 1942, while a committee chairman in Saratov named Sozonov subscribed for 50 percent. (91) It is possible that they were more attracted to the lottery than the war bonds because of the possibility of winning coveted consumer goods during a period of severe scarcity. Prizes ranged from more practical goods like shoes, clothing, and fur coats to luxury items like silver and gold jewelry, watches, and cutlery. These were deficit goods with prohibitive price tags in the state retail system when they were available for purchase. The vast majority of prizes, however, were simply cash sums: in the four wartime lotteries, the government budgeted nearly 1.7 billion rubles in cash prizes, almost six times the retail value of the goods prizes. (92) It was difficult to produce the goods in the absence of sufficient raw resources, especially metals, and prizes often went missing due to logistical problems and theft. As of January 1944, Narkomfin had received around 300 complaints regarding undelivered prizes; in over 200 cases, theft by mail workers was suspected. (93)
The first lottery sold so many more tickets than were initially released that in January 1942 Narkomfin requested to increase the number of prizes to make it more proportional to actual ticket sales, a request it repeated with the remaining wartime lotteries. (94) In 1944, workers bought more tickets than were physically available within their workplaces; months later, the paper tickets were yet to be produced. (95) Like the war bonds, quotas for the cash-and-goods lotteries across the RSFSR were substantially overfulfilled, with the 1943 lottery oversubscribed by more than 900 million rubles. (96)
In addition to bonds and lotteries, saving deposits were considered a form of mobilizing the people's personal finances and were portrayed as a strike at the enemy. The government struggled, however, to convince citizens to deposit money at the same level as they offered it toward subscriptions. On the eve of the German invasion, approximately 17 million citizens across the Soviet Union held savings accounts containing around 7 billion rubles. (97) Fearing a run on the banks and the loss of these resources, Narkomfin limited citizens' withdrawals to 200 rubles per month on 23 July 1941. In August, they eased up on the restriction, permitting accountholders to withdraw any sum from funds deposited after it, but it had effectively eliminated the incentive to make new deposits. Although many within the Soviet government viewed this approach as counterproductive to fully utilizing saving as a fundraising strategy, and there were proposals to remove the restriction, it remained in force until January 1944. (98) Narkomfin tried to offer financial incentives for citizens to voluntarily increase deposits, for example, creating a "lottery savings" (vyigryshnye vklady) program: instead of accruing interest, these accounts were eligible for cash prizes that increased depending on the size of their average monthly balances.
In meetings and rallies, the komsody tried to convince their coworkers of the benefits of saving, but they were instructed to focus their explanations on the "absolutely voluntary" commitment to save one's money. "No decisions requiring someone to become an accountholder should be taken at these meetings," a 1942 handbook for activists in the Omsk region read. "Nothing should be put to a vote, for the only thing this will accomplish is to discredit an important initiative." (99) That this had to be clarified indicates that some activists did push their coworkers to make firm commitments about what they would save, attempting to place the same obligations on them that existed for bonds and lottery tickets. It was not until the second half of the war, however, and particularly after the tide turned at Stalingrad, that Soviet citizens began to deposit money more consistently. (100) It is more likely that these deposits owed to citizens' increased confidence in a Soviet victory, rather than the persistence of financial activists. Although they could harangue their coworkers about the benefits of saving, they could not ensure that their money went into the bank, for depositing money occurred outside the workplace and information about the contents of accounts was strictly confidential. What they could do was unfavorably compare reluctant peers to more financially responsible patriots who did manage to save money. By the end of 1942, they had at least one name in mind.
The Beekeeper and His Bag of Money
On 18 December 1942, a short letter to Stalin sat on the front pages of both Pravda and Izvestiia. "Sending my two sons off to the front, I gave them a piece of fatherly advice, to mercilessly beat the German invaders, and I, for my part, promised my children that I would help them through selfless labor in the rear," wrote Ferapont Golovatyi, a peasant from the Stakhanovets collective farm in Saratov oblast. (101) Golovatyi eventually decided that he could do more, putting his life savings of 100,000 rubles, "everything I earned through honest labor on the kolkhoz," toward the purchase of a plane. "Let my war machine crush the German invaders, let it bring death to those who torment our brothers, the innocent Soviet people," his letter went on, inciting others to follow his lead: "Hundreds of squadrons of aircraft, built using the personal savings of collective farmers, will help our Red Army to cleanse our sacred land of German invaders." Stalin's personal response to Golovatyi was published the next day: "Thank you, Ferapont Petrovich, for your concern for the Red Army and its air force. The army will not forget that you gave all your savings to build a plane. Please accept my greetings." (102) The plane, a Iak-16 inscribed with Golovatyi's name, was given to a star pilot, Boris Eremin, soon afterward.
Golovatyi's donation was by no means the first: monetary donations poured in from the first days of the war. The Defense Fund, a special account with the State Bank, was opened to accept these donations in July 1941. (103) Within just three months, 587.5 million rubles in cash were donated. (104) Members of the Soviet intelligentsia donated prizes and honoraria: Mikhail Sholokhov offered his Stalin prize for the novel And Quiet Flows the Don. In addition to precious metals, jewelry, and foreign currency, citizens offered creative noncash donations to the fund. Many canceled the state's debt on their mass subscription bonds as their personal contributions: in the first three months of the conflict, over 228 million rubles in bonds were donated. (105) Citizens offered their "special deposits" (spetsvklady), sums deposited directly into their bank accounts by the government as compensation for unused vacation time, which could not be withdrawn until after the war. Some peasants donated the monetary equivalents of their "labor days" (trudodni), the noncash earnings they received from the collective farm. (106) These donations assumed a fairly disorganized form until the winter of 1942--43, at which point Golovatyi emerged as the initiator of a "spontaneous" campaign to donate workers' and peasants' savings to the Red Army Fund during the final, decisive stages of the battle for Stalingrad.
The Soviet writer and journalist Vasily Grossman later denounced Golovatyi's donation as one of countless examples of Soviet "spontaneous fury" conceived and planned well in advance. (107) Indeed, Golovatyi was a perfect poster child for Stalinist wartime mass fundraising. Izvestiia painted him as a national hero at a time when Russian nationalism was resurging: a "Russian man, the flesh and blood of the Russian people. He is one of the millions of our peasants who, through honest and selfless labor, spend their whole lives cultivating the land, producing our bread, honestly fulfilling their civic duties before the Fatherland." (108) Golovatyi was born to a poor peasant family in Poltava province in the Russian Empire, a region of Ukraine that was currently under German occupation. He had a long-standing grudge against the Germans, having fought against them in World War I for the tsar's army (he was, naturally, on the side of the Red Army during the Civil War). He was compared to a modern-day Kuz'ma Minin, the Russian peasant who had defended his country against the Polish invasion in the early 17th century.
More important, Golovatyi was a "success story" of collectivization, calling himself a former farm hand (batrak) turned "prosperous collective farmer" (zazbitochnyi kolkhoznik). Golovatyi, and plenty of other peasants, had certainly become wealthy by the winter of 1942-43, but it was not as a result of collectivization. Sales of honey at inflated prices were the source of Golovatyi's fortunes, although, as Berkhoff notes, the propaganda surrounding his donation ignored this detail. (109) According to an official postwar biography, Golovatyi was moved to give the money after visiting wounded soldiers in a local hospital and, to put together the necessary funds for a plane, he decided to sell off everything he had, leaving just enough food to feed his family until the next harvest. (110) However, the historian Viktor Cherepanov claims that, during a personal conversation with his youngest daughter in the mid-1980s, she confirmed that the money came from selling honey on the peasant market, as did Eremin, the pilot who received Golovatyi's gift. (111)
Golovatyi's donation provided a model for what was expected of other "wealthy" collective farmers. In the weeks that followed, willingly or otherwise, they took up his challenge, pledging their personal and collective savings to the Red Army Fund for the purchase of jets, tanks, machine guns, and other war weapons, asking to name these instruments of destruction after their collective farms. The letters to Stalin accompanying these donations spanned several pages in Pravda and Izvestiia in early January 1943. The secretary of the Leningrad oblast Communist Party wrote that collective farmers in his region had amassed 21 million rubles for the construction of a tank column named "Leningrad Kolkhoznik." (112) The secretary of the Astrakhan okrug Communist Party wrote that collective farmers, fishermen, and craftsmen had collected 12 million rubles for the construction of air squadrons named "For the Defense of Stalingrad." (113) After Maria Vasil'evna Milavina, a collective farmwoman, told Stalin that she had given her life savings of 2,000 rubles toward the construction of a plane to be named Mother of a Frontline Soldier, she called on all mothers who had sons on the front to hand over their savings. (114)
Printed alongside these letters were responses from Stalin personally thanking the writers. Personal letters of thanks from Stalin for this money also circulated throughout voluntary organizations like the Union of Societies for Assistance to Defense and Aviation-Chemical Construction (OSOAVIAKhIM), inspiring "a renewed, patriotic upswing in activity." (115) Jeffrey Brooks sees these letters as an example of the ritual thanking associated with Stalin's cult of personality. (116) Similarly, Berkhoff argues that early directives regarding gifts and patriotic movements were presented as acts by the Soviet government or at least as joint resolutions of the government and the Party; however, Stalin eventually used donations as "occasions to orchestrate public declarations of fealty to him"--which explains why, when newspaper editors eventually suggested cutting Stalin's replies to save space, that idea was quickly shot down. (117)
These exchanges also helped escalate donations by deploying the familiar rhetoric of the mass subscription campaign. Recall that bond subscription meetings involved series of escalating challenges, led by activist subscribers. The published letters used precisely the same rhetorical device, highlighting the most significant sums donated, some clearly indicating that they were meeting--and exceeding--Golovatyi's challenge and his 100,000 rubles. For example, six tractor drivers in Ivanovskaia oblast each chipped in 25,000 rubles of their "savings" to help purchase a fighter jet that they asked to be named Ivanov Tractor Driver and given as a gift to "Stalin's eagles," the Soviet Union's ace pilots. The language of their letter explicitly echoed that of Golovatyi's original missive: "Let our war machine crush the German invaders and cleanse our Soviet land of German occupiers." (118) The letters also issued a call to the other members of their collectives and social groups to give everything they had to the front. Most important, the exchanges raised the bar by identifying the amounts that were significant enough to earn Stalin's recognition.
Lest these publicized donations be dismissed as empty propaganda, the archival record confirms that enormous sums flowed into state coffers. By 1 January 1943, contributions to the Red Army Fund by collective farmers across the Soviet Union totaled over 2 billion rubles, with over half of that sum coming from the Russian republic alone. (119) Contributions from the entire Soviet population by that date totaled nearly 6.5 billion rubles across the Soviet Union, with over 4 billion rubles from the RSFSR. (120) Sovnarkom reported that between 9 December 1942 and 26 March 1943, 7,023,596,000 rubles of Soviet citizens' personal savings were donated toward the construction of weaponry for the Red Army and the Navy. (121) This was approximately the same amount held by Soviet citizens in savings banks prior to the war.
In a 2005 interview with Moskovskii Komsomolets, Golovatyi's granddaughter dismissed the theory, popular after perestroika, that her grandfather was part of the Soviet propaganda machine and that his initial donation was staged to encourage citizens to give money to the government. (122) She insisted that it was a spontaneous decision motivated by a sincere desire to help the army. According to her, Golovatyi decided on his own that a plane must cost about 100,000 rubles, which "wasn't such a huge sum at the time." (123) A kilogram of honey went for 1,000 rubles on the market; therefore, in his estimation, a plane cost about the equivalent of a hundredweight of honey. He still did not have quite enough, however, so he also sold off two cows. In return for his donation, she claimed that Golovatyi received nothing but winter clothes and boots for his grandchildren. Responding to the suggestion that Golovatyi personally benefited from his fame, she argued that "her grandfather never dreamed of gain," asking rhetorically how he could have gained from a state that had imprisoned him in 1937 for ten months over a disagreement regarding the location of his hut on collective-farm land. (124) She insisted he was simply a "big-hearted" person.
Regardless of whether or not his initial motivations were altruistic or strategic, Golovatyi became a public figure as a result of his donation. When Eremin's battered plane was eventually taken out of commission, the beekeeper repeated his act of generosity and bestowed a second plane on the pilot in May 1944, supposedly devoting some of the over 1,000 labor days he and his daughters earned on the collective farm, as well as additional funds from his honey sales, to its purchase. (125) News of this donation was wired to international media--the New York Times even picked it up. (126) At home, Golovatyi was elected chairman of his collective farm, recognized as a Hero of Socialist Labor, and received the Order of Lenin. He was elected twice as a deputy to the Supreme Soviet, in 1946 and 1950, vowing in his campaign speech to bring the same dedication to postwar reconstruction that he had applied to defeating the enemy. (127) Much like substantial subscriptions to bonds, a major donation could help an individual distinguish him- or herself; more modest contributions than Golovatyi's could shine a spotlight on individuals within a factory or village.
During World War II, the Soviet government expanded and intensified the quasi-voluntary mass subscription approach to fundraising, generating billions of rubles for the war effort. Coercion served as a safeguard within the fundraising machine, ensuring that almost no one gave less than the minimum asked of them. Even if it was technically permissible, doing so chipped away at the illusion of unanimous support, which was necessary for propaganda purposes but, more important, for the principle of collective responsibility to work. That principle required that no one be exempt from the burden. Within the industrial workplace, the expected subscription amounts swelled due to the internal dynamics of the campaign: to distinguish themselves and receive the social benefits this accrued, members of the elite and activists offered significant sums, which pushed up the baselines expected of those simply avoiding the hassle or social penalties caused by withholding. Similar examples of activism emerged during the cash donation campaign.
The mass subscription approach to state bonds leveraged unprecedented amounts of money from Soviet citizens' incomes: if in 1939, peasants subscribed for an average of 53 rubles and the average actual receipt was around 51 rubles, by 1943, they subscribed for a peak average of 552 and handed over every ruble, according to Gostrudsberkass. (128) By 1945, these rates had dropped to 379 rubles pledged and 274 rubles received. (129) After the donation surge of 1942-43, it presumably became more difficult to squeeze ever greater sums out of the peasantry. If urban campaigns had typically not managed to generate the equivalent of two-thirds of the average monthly wage fund before the war, by 1945 the rate reached 120 percent. (130) After the great potential of the mass subscription campaign had been realized, achieving less than 100 percent of the plan for bonds funding postwar reconstruction was unacceptable--no union-level campaign for the remainder of Stalin's lifetime achieved less. (131)
Although coercion helped escalate sums, this does not mean that Soviet citizens did not have their own reasons to participate in state fundraising campaigns and their contributions were always either coerced or strategic. Soviet citizens had a host of personal motivations to give money that were compatible or, at least, not directly in conflict with the Stalinist mass fundraising approach. Referring to soldiers' feelings of increased personal freedom during the war, Elena Zubkova notes that the war "brought a rare opportunity for the development among people of a civic spirit, which for decades had been cultivated only as duties--often impractical and abstract handed out by the regime.... A person began to feel the sentiment of citizenship." (132) It is safe to presume that many, if not most, Soviet civilians wanted to win the war and understood their donations, even if they were not 100 percent voluntary, as connected to that aim. Virtually everyone had a family member, friend, colleague, or neighbor at the front. Benefiting frontline soldiers by equipping them with the best weapons money could buy held genuine appeal. Three-quarters of the Red Army began the war as peasants, which may account for some of peasants' newfound "enthusiasm" for giving money to the government. (133) Personal motivations coincided with coercive pressures.
The Stalinist mass subscription fundraising model depended on activism to escalate the sums that nonactivists handed over, from the ritualized "activism" incited by the komsody to extraordinary examples like Ferapont Golovatyi. It should come as no surprise, then, that when Khrushchev finally declared an end to the mass subscription bonds in April 1957 and a 20-year freeze on citizens' existing investments, activists came forward to cancel the state's debt, as they had during the war, in a final display of loyalty. Whole workplaces transferred their bonds to the state "gratis" (bezvozmezdno), (134) A. S. Bakaliaev, a party candidate and instructor at a machine-building institute in Zaporozh'e, donated 40,435 rubles in bonds he had accumulated over the years. (135) Khrushchev's initiative was portrayed as receiving workers' unanimous support, though the freeze was, in fact, extremely unpopular: many citizens deemed it a betrayal and the theft of their "only form of savings." (136) The bonds, which had already had their worth decimated during the punitive 1947 currency reform, were not redeemed until the mid-1970s under Brezhnev, when inflation undercut their remaining value. (137) Many citizens, for whom the expense had been a burden with scarcely any corresponding personal or material benefits, never lived to see the money they had invested in a Soviet victory returned to them.
International Center for the History and Sociology of World War II and Its Consequences
National Research University--Higher School of Economics
Moscow 107996, Russia
The author would like to thank Sheila Fitzpatrick and Tara Zahra, who read an early draft of this article, as well as Stephen Lovell, Paul Werth, and the two anonymous reviewers at Kritika, whose extensive comments and suggestions were invaluable.
(1) A. M. Sinitsin, "Nauchnye zametki: Dobrovol'nye postupleniia denezhnykh sredstv na oboronu v gody velikoi otechestvennoi voiny," Voprosy istorii, no. 5 (1970): 214.
(2) I. Agranovskii, Sovetskii krest'ianin: Ferapont Golovatyi (Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe izdatel'stvo sel'skokhoziaistvennoi literatury, 1957), 47-50. Some popular retellings have Golovatyi showing up directly at the plane factory with the money.
(3) Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi arkhiv sotsial'no-politicheskoi istorii (RGASPI) f. 82, op. 2, d. 780,1. 77.
(4) From the second quarter of 1941 to the fourth quarter of 1943, the average industrial wage rose from 373 to 542 rubles per month (ibid., d. 797,1. 65).
(5) John Barber and Mark Harrison, The Soviet Home Front, 1941-1945: A Social and Economic History of the USSR in World War II (London: Longman Group, 1991), 83.
(6) For more on wartime commercial shops, see Elena TVerdiukova, "Osobtorg," Rodina, no. 10 (2010): 132-34.
(7) RGASPI f. 82, op. 2, d. 780,1. 83.
(8) Regarding barter and peasant market trade, see "Pis'mo narkoma torgovli SSSR A. V. Liubimova zamestiteliu Predsedatelia SNK SSSR A. I. Mikoian," in Sovetskaia povsednevnost' i massovoe soznanie 1939-1945, ed. A. Ia. Livshin and I. B. Orlov (Moscow: Rosspen, 2003), 178-79.
(9) RGASPI f. 82, op. 2, d. 780,1. 84.
(10) It should be noted that mobilized soldiers also participated in fundraising campaigns but are not the focus here.
(11) A. Zverev, Velikaia otechestvennaia voina i rol' gosudarstvennykh zaimov (Arkhangelsk: Solombal'skaia tipografia, 1943), 6.
(12) Throughout, I use "state fundraising" and "mass fundraising" to distinguish the quasivoluntary bonds, lotteries, and donation campaigns from fundraising activities organized by voluntary associations.
(13) Viviana A. Zelizer, The Social Meaning of Money: Pin Money, Paychecks, Poor Relief, and Other Currencies (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997), 18-19.
(14) Eugenia Belova and Valery Lazarev, Funding Loyalty: The Economics of the Communist Party (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2012), 76--reviewed in this issue of Kritika. On the range of consumer privileges granted to the elite, such as food rations, dachas, and cars, see Sheila Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism: Ordinary Life in Extraordinary Times. Soviet Russia in the 1930s (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 95-106.
(15) Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, 78-79.
(16) Rebecca Manley notes that evacuees, who formed a large pool of the Soviet civilian population during the war, were sometimes stigmatized for sitting out the war in the rear afterward (To the Tashkent Station: Evacuation and Survival in the Soviet Union at War [Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2009], 266).
(17) On the historical emergence of krugovaia poruka, see Alena V. Ledeneva, How Russia Really Works: The Informal Practices That Shaped Post-Soviet Politics and Business (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2006), 91-99; and Geoffrey Hosking, Rulers and Victims: The Russians in the Soviet Union (Cambridge, MA: Bellknap, 2006), 11-14, 18, 331-34. On its instantiation in Soviet-era politics and post-Soviet politics and business practices, see Ledeneva, Russia's Economy of Favors: Blat, Networking, and Informal Exchange (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 81-83; Ledeneva, "The Genealogy of Krugovaia Poruka: Forced Trust as a Feature of Russian Political Culture," in Trust and Democratic Transition in Post-Communist Europe, ed. Ivana Markova (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 85-86; and Ledeneva, How Russia Really Works, 99-114. As Oleg Kharkhordin notes, during the Soviet period, the term "collective" itself connoted mutual surveillance and conformity (The Collective and the Individual in Russia: A Study of Practices [Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999], 76-87, 110).
(18) Ledeneva, How Russia Really Works, 94.
(19) Karel C. Berkhoff, Motherland in Danger: Soviet Propaganda during World War II (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012), 103-4.
(20) Mark Harrison, "The Soviet Union: The Defeated Victor," in The Economics of World War II: Six Great Powers in International Comparison, ed. Harrison (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 276.
(22) James R. Millar, "Financing the Soviet War Effort in World War II," Soviet Studies 32, 1 (1980): 116-17.
(23) Ibid., 108.
(25) Ibid., 121.
(26) Gotz Aly, Hitler's Beneficiaries: Plunder, Racial War, and the Nazi Welfare State, trans. Jefferson Chase (New York: Metropolitan Books, 2005), 294.
(27) Peter Fritzsche, Life and Death in the Third Reich (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2008), 53.
(29) On the dynamics of these campaigns, see Lawrence R. Samuel, Pledging Allegiance: American Identity and the Bond Drive of World War II (Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1997); James J. Kimble, Mobilizing the Home Front: War Bonds and Domestic Propaganda (College Station: Texas A&M Press, 2006); and James T. Sparrow, "'Buying Our Boys Back': The Mass Foundations of Fiscal Citizenship in World War II," Journal of Policy History 20, 2 (2008): 263-86.
(30) Sparrow, "Buying Our Boys Back," 263-64.
(31) Hugh Rockoff, America's Economic Way of War: War and the U.S. Economy from the Spanish-American War to the Persian GulfWar (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 168.
(32) RGASPI f. 82, op. 2, d. 780,1. 83.
(33) Henri Levy-Ullmann, "Lottery Bonds in France and in the Principal Countries of Europe," Harvard Law Review 9, 6 (1896): 387-89.
(34) Peter Tufano, "Saving whilst Gambling: An Empirical Analysis of UK Premium Bonds," American Economic Review 98, 2 (2008): 321.
(35) P. Ia. Dmitrichev, Gosudarstvennye zaimy v SSSR (Moscow: Gosfinizdat, 1956), 27.
(36) By the start of the war, investors held about 1 billion rubles in voluntarily purchased 1938 lottery bonds, and the majority of these were held in urban areas by investors with large cash savings (Gosudarstvennyi arkhiv Rossiiskoi Federatsii [GARF] f. 5446, op. 47, d. 2005, 1. 4).
(37) James R. Millar, "History and Analysis of Soviet Domestic Bond Policy," Soviet Studies 27, 4 (1975): 601.
(38) Franklyn D. Holzman, "An Estimate of the Tax Element in Soviet Bonds," American Economic Review 47, 3 (1957): 391-92.
(39) Ibid., 390. He later revised his opinion of bonds sold in the postwar period, arguing that their tax element was reduced if not eliminated after 1947 (Franklyn D. Holzman, "The Soviet Bond Hoax," Problems of Communism 6, 5 : 48).
(40) See, e.g., KiamiT Ianbukhtin, Nalogi v usloviiakh kapitalizma i v sovetskom khoziaistve (Moscow: Gosfinizdat, 1934), 10. Soviet income taxes were relatively negligible for workers until the war, when tax hikes were exploited as sources of additional war funding. For more on wartime taxation, see Franklyn D. Holzman, Soviet Taxation: The Fiscal and Monetary Problems of a Planned Economy (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1955), 221-23.
(41) Dmitrichev, Gosudarstvennye zaimy v SSSR, 7-8.
(42) M. Panovko, Zaimy SSSR- V voprosakh i otvetakh (Moscow: Gosfinizdat, 1934), 15.
(43) Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, 35.
(44) Lewis Siegelbaum, Stakhanovism and the Politics of Productivity in the USSR, 1935-1941 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 40.
(45) M. V. Rosliakov, ed., Kartotekafinansovogo rabotnika (Leningrad: Vsesoiuznaia spravochnaia kartoteka, Leningradskoe otdelenie, 1934), 100.
(46) Harvard Project on the Soviet Social System, Schedule A, vol. 23, Case 456 (interviewer J.R., type A4), 11 (http://pds.lib.harvard.edu/pds/view/5357432?n=12, accessed 5 April 2013).
(47) Ibid., vol. 35, Case 97/(NY) 1528 (interviewer M.T., type A4), 11 (http://pds.lib.harvard. edu/pds/view/5607127?n=l 1, accessed 5 April 2013).
(48) Ibid., vol. 1, Case 4 (interviewer J.R., type A3), 13 (http://pds.lib.harvard.edu/pds/ view/5040037?n=12, accessed 5 April 2013).
(49) Ibid., Case 5 (interviewer K.G., type A3), 9 (http://pds.lib.harvard.edu/pds/ view/5040170?n=8, accessed 5 April 2013). Obligatsii is a synonym for zaimy.
(50) Dmitrichev, Gosudarstvennye zaimy v SSSR, 31.
(51) GARF f. 5685, op. 1, d. 31, ll. 17-18.
(52) Ibid., l. 18.
(54) "I trudom, i rublem!" Pravda, 14 April 1942, 2.
(55) Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi arkhiv ekonomiki (RGAE) f. 7733, op. 26, d. 24, l. 94.
(56) GARF f. 5446, op. 43a, d. 3758, l. 22.
(57) Note that prizes were oriented around a 100-ruble denomination: bonds purchased in 200-and 500-ruble denominations gave one the right to five or two serial numbers of 100 rubles, respectively, increasing one's chances of winning, because the serial numbers were entered into the draws separately. Bonds purchased in denominations of 50, 25, and 10 rubles entitled one to only half, one-quarter, and one-tenth of a prize. After the first war bond, the 10-ruble denomination was phased out.
(58) The practice is described in Narodnyi komissariat finansov SSSR (NKF SSSR), O gosudarstvennom voennom zaime 1942g.: V pomoshch' komissiiam sodeistviia gosudarstvennomu kreditu i sberegatel'nomu delu i upol'nomochennym sel'skikh sovetov (Moscow: Gosfinizdat, 1942), 11.
(60) On the emergence of the cult of the war and war heroes, see Nina Tumarkin, The Living and The Dead: The Rise and Fall of the Cult of World War II in Russia (New York: Basic Books, 1994), 76.
(61) GARF f. 5451, op. 25, d. 229, l. 145.
(62) Ibid., l. 14.
(64) Ibid., l. 1.
(66) Ibid., l. 144.
(67) Ibid., l. 17.
(69) P. Charles Hachten, "Property Relations and the Economic Organization of Soviet Russia, 1941-1948" (Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 2005), 249-50.
(70) Ibid., 252.
(71) Ibid., 449-50.
(72) Ibid., 443-44.
(73) NKF SSSR, O gosudarstvennom voennom zaime 1942 g., 13.
(74) Ibid., 14.
(75) NKF SSSR, Glavnoe upravlenie gosudarstvennykh trudovykh sberegatel'nykh kass i gosudarstvennogo kredita, O chetvertom gosudarstvennom voennom zaime (Moscow: Gosfinizdat, 1945), 11.
(76) GARF f. 5446, op. 44, d. 757, l. 7.
(77) Ibid., op. 43a, d. 3757, l. 84; op. 44, d. 757, l. 5; op. 46, d. 2171, l. 6; op. 47, d. 1943, l. 7.
(78) "Tablitsa uderzhaniia iz zarabotnoi platy rabochikh i sluzhashchikh v 1940-1947 gg.," in Sovetskaia povsednevnost', 235.
(79) For more on the failed state lottery of 1922-23 and the subsequent prohibition on state lotteries, see Evgenii Kovtun, Azartv strane sovetov, 2: Loterei (Moscow: Olimp-Biznes, 2012), 61-66.
(80) "Ob uchastii profsoiuznykh organizatsii v provedenii tret'ei denezhno-veshchevoi loterei," Pravda, 16 October 1943, 4.
(81) GARF f. A259, op. 3, d. 1352, l. 4.
(82) GARF f. A259, op. 4, d. 3547, l. 9; op. 5, d. 3544, l. 4.
(83) Ibid., op. 3, d. 1352, l. 4; op. 4, d. 3547, l. 9; op. 4, 3544, l. 4.
(84) GARF f. A259, op. 3, d. 1352, l. 4.
(85) U. G. Cherniavskii, Voina i prodovol'stvie: Snabzhenie gorodskogo naseleniia v velikuiu otechestvennuiu voinu, 1941--1945 gg- (Moscow: Nauka, 1964), 160.
(86) RGAE f. 7733, op. 28, d. 63, l. 21; f. 7733, op. 29, d. 55, l. 20.
(87) GARF f. 5451, op. 25, d. 229, l. 175.
(88) GARF f. 7523, op. 13, d. 131, l. 1.
(89) Ibid., l. 3.
(90) See, e.g., Vecherniaia Moskva, 25 October 1944, 2.
(91) GARF f. 5451, op. 25, d. 229, l. 183.
(92) RGAE f. 7733, op. 26, d. 111, l. 9; op. 27, d. 75, l. 17; op. 28, d. 63, l. 22; op. 29, d. 55, l. 2.
(93) Ibid., op. 29, d. 55, l. 4.
(94) Ibid., op. 27, d. 75, l. 1.
(95) "Lotereinye bilety--podpischikam," Vecherniaia Moskva, 15 February 1945, 2.
(96) RGAE f. 7733, op. 26, d. 111, l. 16; op. 27, d. 75, l. 16; op. 28, d. 63, l. 21; op. 29, d. 55, l. 20; GARF f. A259, op. 3, d. 1352, l. 4; op. 4, d. 3547, l. 9; op. 4, d. 3544, l. 4.
(97) L. Valler, Denezhnye sberezheniia--na delo razgroma vraga (Moscow: Gosfinizdat, 1942), 3.
(98) For complaints and proposals related to the restriction, see GARF f. 5446, op. 43a, d. 3757, l. 88; op. 44a, d. 4758, ll. 8-14.
(99) Sberezheniia trudiashchikksia--na razgrom vraga (v pomoshch' finansovomu. aktivu sberegatel'nykh kass) (Omsk: Omskoe oblastnoe upravlenie gostrudsberkass i goskredita, 1942), 7.
(100) GARF f. 7523, op. 17, d. 29, l. 43.
(101) "Moskva, Kreml'--tovarishchu Stalinu," Pravda, 18 December 1942, 1.
(102) "Kolkhoz 'Stakhanovets' Novo-Pokrovskogo raiona Saratovskoi oblasti kolkhozniku Ferapontu Petrovichu Golovatomu," Izvestiia, 19 December 1942, 1.
(103) GARF f. 5446, op. 25a, d. 7074, ll. 3-4.
(104) RGASPI f. 82, op. 2, d. 773, l. 183.
(106) See, e.g., "V fond oborony rodiny: Vklady kolkhoznikov," Izvestiia, 8 August 1941, 1.
(107) Vasily Grossman, Everything Flows, trans. Robert and Elizabeth Chandler with Anna Aslanyan (New York: New York Review Books, 2009), 25.
(108) "Russkii krest'ianin-patriot Ferapont Golovatyi," Izvestiia, 19 December 1942, 1.
(109) Berkhoff, Motherland in Danger, 105.
(110) Agranovskii, Sovetskii krest'ianin, 47.
(111) Viktor Cherepanov, Vlast' i voina: Staliniskii mekhanizm gosudarstvennogo upravleniia v velikoi otechestvennoi voine (Moscow: Izvestiia, 2006), 418.
(112) Pravda, 3 January 1943, 1.
(115) "Iz otcheta o rabote TsS Osoaviakhima za 1941-1945 gg.," Sovetskaiapropaganda vgody velikoi otechestvennoi voiny: Kommunikatsiia ubezhdeniia i mobilizatsionnye mekhanizmy, ed. A. Ia. Livshin and I. B. Orlov (Moscow: Rosspen, 2007), 573.
(116) Jeffrey Brooks, Thank You, Comrade Stalin! Soviet Public Culture from Revolution to Cold War (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999), 187.
(117) Berkhoff, Motherland in Danger, 107.
(118) Pravda, 3 January 1943, 1.
(119) RGASPI f. 82, op. 2, d. 774,11. 9-10.
(120) Ibid., 11. 13-14.
(121) Ibid., 1. 18.
(122) Mariia Liamina, "Voennye tainy: Kak pasechnik Ferapont pobedu pokupal," Moskovskii komsomolets, no. 63 (25 March 2005) (www.mk.ru/editions/daily/article/2005/03/25/198359kak-pasechnik-ferapont-pobedu- pokupal.html, accessed 3 February 2014).
(125) "Moskva, Kreml'--Verkhovnomu glavnokomanduiushchemu marshalu Sovetskogo soiuza tovarishchu Stalinu," Izvestiia, 24 May 1944, 1.
(126) "Soviet Beekeeper Buys Second Plane for Army," New York Times, 25 May 1944, 5.
(127) GARF f. 7523, op. 48, d. 263,1. 8.
(130) Ibid., op. 17, d. 29,1.41.
(131) Ibid., op. 39, d. 968,1. 24; op. 40, d. 845,1. 21; op. 41, d. 888,1. 6; op. 42, d. 677,1. 19; op. 58, d. 3452,1. 49; op. 58, d. 3471,1. 74; op. 85, d. 476,1. 2; op. 85, d. 489,1. 2. At the lower levels of the republic, oblast, and factory, however, not every plan was overfulfilled.
(132) Elena Zubkova, Russia after the War: Hopes, Illusions, and Disappointments, 1945-1957, trans. and ed. Hugh Ragsdale (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1998), 16.
(133) On soldiers' peasant origins, see Catherine Merridale, Ivan's War: Life and Death in the Red Army, 1939-1945 (New York: Metropolitan Books, 2006), 21.
(134) GARF f. 5446, op. 91, d. 508,11. 66-84; op. 91, d. 817,1. 5.
(135) Ibid., d. 790,11. 1-3.
(136) See, e.g., the opinions in ibid., d. 817.
(137) During the currency reform, the bonds were revalued at a rate of 3 : 1, old money for new. See "Postanovlenie Soveta ministrov SSSR i TsKP(b) o provedenii denezhnoi reformy i otmene kartochek na prodovol'stvennye i promyshlennye tovary," Pravda, 15 December 1947, 1.
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