Episode 30: No Need For Comfort

 Audio Link

Welcome to Stories of Communism, the podcast where we discuss what life is really like for those unfortunate enough to live under communist or socialist governments.    Recording from the suburbs of Portland, Oregon, this is Erik Seligman, your host.   (My co-host Manuel was unable to make it for this episode.)

This month we have a special treat, an interview with Sergey Grechishkin, the author of “Everything is Normal”, the book we discussed in the last episode.   As you may recall, he talked about the mundane details of his life growing up in the Soviet Union of the 1970s and 1980s, when an opportunity to eat a banana was a special event, and a tacky souvenir keychain was so valuable his grandmother made him hide it away.   As you’ll hear in the interview, I thought it might be fun to share the insights of another friend, Yulia, who grew up in the USSR during that time, and have Sergey compare and contrast some of his experiences to hers.

[Listen to the audio for the full interview.   Here are some of Yulia’s quotes that I read from.   Note that I corrected some grammar in a few places, since English wasn’t Yulia’s first language.]

There were 3 major cities in USSR: Moscow, Leningrad and Kiev, that were decently supplied by food and goods. Moscow was obviously the best supplied. So the life of the people from those cities was not like the rest of Soviet Union. It was like a different more developed country. 

Both my parents were engineers but we lived poorly… All the salaries would go for food and utilities.   …both of my parents had master degrees from Universities and they worked all the time... This is how middle class lived.

Potatoes and all vegetables people would preferably buy in the market because in the store vegetables were half rotten, but you could not pick; you pay for rotten too. It was very usual when the lady over counter yells at customers "If you don't like it, go to the market!”   Customer service was awful, they were ridiculously  rude and talked to customers like they own the food and do people favor selling it.     BTW I still grow my own vegetables and herbs in my backyard :-) Everybody from Ukraine I know grows vegetables in their backyard. It is way of life for us :-) 

When we emigrated to Israel (me, my daughter and my sister) we went to the store to buy vegetables. Oranges in Israel are remarkably inexpensive.   We bought about 10. My sister couldn't wait till we got home, she started to eat on the street like crazy person, almost swallowing them.

We never threw food away even if it would be infested with bugs. Mom would sift the infested flour. Grains would be slightly fried in the stove so that bugs would die. Parents would joke about it: " Here we would have a little protein..." referring to the bugs in the grain.

Clothes were expensive. We had 3 kids, so mostly eldest would get new stuff, the rest will inherit clothes from the older kid. Shoes made in USSR were awful. I remember being about 6 years old and suffering in sandals, they were too hard and I always had blisters on my feet.

It was 1 kitchen and 1 room, about 3 square meters each. No running water, to toilet. The toilet was public, about 100 meters away from the home, wooden, 2 holes...Water we would bring from a water pump about 200 meters away. Kids would do it.   In winter it would be challenging because the bucket would swing when walking and water would splash into my boots.

In 1985 it was Students and Youth festival in Moscow and it was similar events as Grechishkin describes in 1980 Olympics. They "cleaned" Moscow from people. They also cleaned skies to provide good weather during the event. They would shoot at the clouds and it would move them. As result it was excessive rains in areas 2-3 hours from Moscow and the crop died this year.  

Russian propaganda comes not only from evil people. The most effective is just soft portraying of Soviet Union. Recently my own daughter who lives now separately send a humor video with the guy cooking some meal "Stalin style" with soviet flag in his kitchen, portrait of Stalin, etc. It supposed to be a joke... I sent back to her picture of pile of the bodies of starved by Stalin Ukrainians...  And told her "Is this also funny?" 

I hope you enjoyed the interview.   As always, you can find more information and a link to Sergey’s book, “Everything is Normal”, in the show notes at storiesofcommunism.com .  

And this has been your story of Communism for today.


- https://www.amazon.com/Everything-Normal-Life-Times-Soviet-ebook/dp/B07B9VM44Z 

Episode 29: Empty Shelves, Full Pantries

Audio Link

Welcome to Stories of Communism, the podcast where we review and discuss the firsthand testimony of those who lived through the horrors of Communism.   This is Erik Seligman, your co-host, along with Manuel Castaneda, recording from the suburbs of Portland, Oregon.

Today we will be discussing Sergey Grechishkin’s lighthearted but terrifying memoir “Everything is Normal: The Life and Times of a Soviet Kid”.   It describes his life growing up as a middle-class child in Leningrad in the 1970s and 1980s, in the final decades of the Soviet Union’s existence.    As you’ll see, his world can seem quite alien to those of us who grew up in the West during the same period, with many of the daily comforts we take for granted having been beyond young Sergey’s imagination.

To start with, Grechishkin talks about the apartments that Leningrad residents were forced to live in.   There was a major housing shortage in nearly every Soviet city, so hopeful residents could be on waiting lists for decades to get into a communal apartment, or “kommunakala”, meanwhile living with their parents well into adulthood.    And what were these communal apartments?

These were very large, once-opulent residences that the Soviet government had confiscated from their wealthy former owners after the 1917 Revolution and then divided between multiple families. The bigger the apartment, the more people were crammed into it, usually one household per room. 

In January 1971, one such communal flat became my first home. Grandma, Mom, and little brand-new me were pretty well off; we had two connecting rooms to ourselves. Our kommunalka was not very big: besides us, there were only seven other families in it, about twenty people altogether. Still, that meant twenty people squeezing past each other through the narrow hallways, arguing over who got to use the phone next, jostling each other in the kitchen over multiple stoves with pots on permanent boil, and fidgeting in line for the single, continuously used toilet.

Grechishkin, Sergey. Everything is Normal: The Life and Times of a Soviet Kid (p. 8). Inkshares. Kindle Edition. 

After his parents divorced when he was two, Grechishkin’s grandmother decided to take him and raise him herself.   They exchanged apartments with someone in Peterhof, a suburb about a half hour’s train ride from the Leningrad center.   This further complicated the family’s situation, since his mother had to live close to work, so unofficially moved in with her new boyfriend Tolya in the city:  

Officially, Mom lived with Grandma and myself at the Peterhof apartment, meaning she was registered as a resident at that address…  to make sure places like Moscow and Leningrad didn’t get overrun by folks from the countryside, the police were empowered to stop anyone at any time, and anywhere, and demand to see their address registration papers. If the papers weren’t in perfect order, the person could be ordered to leave town or even thrown in jail.

Of course at such a young age, he wasn’t aware of anything missing in his life, but he shares an anecdote that shows the level of economic challenge they were facing:

One day when I was four years old, Grandma and I were returning from Leningrad to Peterhof with a distant relative of ours. She had married a man from Sudan and now mostly lived abroad. She got me an awesome present: a piece of chewing gum. Had I been given such a thing several years later, I would have squirreled it away to share with my friends on some meaningful occasion or to trade it to a schoolmate for some other valuable object, perhaps a toy soldier. 

But I was still naive in the ways of the world, so I opened it immediately. Inside the outer wrapper was an inner one, with a picture of some Western animated character on it. The rarity and value of this souvenir were entirely lost on me. I popped the pink gum into my mouth and began chewing with gusto. It was my first piece of gum ever, and it tasted like nothing I’d ever had before—a mixture of strawberry, banana, and vanilla! ...

Most of my memories of that time coalesce into a sense of timeless boredom. But after my first taste of bubble gum, something new began to mix with my malaise: jealousy of the kids in faraway countries who could chew such gum every day.

Eventually Grechishkin’s mother married her new boyfriend and had a second child, and she and his grandmother decided to merge their households, exchanging their & Tolya’s communal apartments for one larger one.    It seems like an odd decision after spending several years apart, but it was probably better to be crowded in with relatives than with strangers.   This was actually common at the time:

Because of a chronic real estate shortage, marriage in the USSR often meant the merging of old households rather than the formation of a new one. Everyone would move in together: the happy couple, their parents, their grandparents, their siblings, children from previous marriages, and so on. This merger of family residences after a marriage was called a s’ezd, which translates handily as “congress,” same as what the Communist Party did every five years…

By Soviet standards, [ours] was rather large, with three rooms and a kitchen. I say “rooms” rather than “bedrooms” because the idea of a dedicated living room where no one slept at night was absurd. Our living room doubled as the master bedroom.

 The memoir goes on to share numerous anecdotes and ironies about Grechishkin’s school years.   One of the most surprising comes when he describes how the Soviet government decided to clean up Leningrad for the 1980 Olympics:

In preparation for the Olympics, the authorities decided to clean up Moscow and Leningrad, both literally and metaphorically. Many known dissidents—troublesome artists and other unreliable types—were temporarily deported “beyond the 101st kilometer,” (i.e., forbidden to enter within 100 kilometers of Moscow or Leningrad). Black market dealers, prostitutes, and habitual drunkards prone to public misbehavior were also rounded up and either locked away or kicked out of town. To my utter shock, they did the same to all the children. 
About six months before the opening ceremony, Ekaterina Alexandrovna, like all homeroom teachers in Moscow and Leningrad, held a special PTA meeting. She had received “instructions from above” that no children would be allowed in either Moscow or Leningrad for the duration of the Games. All parents had to notify the authorities within two weeks as to where their children would be staying.
(p. 47)

Luckily, his grandmother was fairly well-off by Soviet standards, and was able to take Grechishkin on an extended vacation to Estonia, while his mother, brother, and Tolya left to stay with Tolya’s parents for a few weeks.    His grandmother took him to watch the boat races, but young Grechishkin’s attention was grabbed by another strange novelty.

While the adults peered through binoculars and cheered, I sat in anticipation of something truly thrilling: the souvenir shops…   There was an abundance of posters, key fobs, and T-shirts, and they weren’t just for foreigners: regular Soviet citizens could buy them, too! 

My materialistic soul was in paradise. I got a blue T-shirt and a cap with “Olympics-80” on it, and a mega-cool key chain with the Olympic bear. All in all, I spent over five rubles of my birthday present money. Grandma approved of my purchases. In fact, she rather approved too much. 

The key chain, she said, was far too nice to use every day, and if I were to take it to school, someone was sure to steal it from me. It would be best, she said, to keep it in a special drawer in her room, with other valuable toys that I was allowed to play with only on special occasions.

If that wasn’t enough, he was also introduced to the wonders of foreign soft drinks, and all that accompanied them:

But Pepsi was something else entirely. The soft drink brought with it another innovation to the USSR: kiosks that served cola in disposable plastic cups. This was a pleasant surprise, for two reasons. For one, kvass was served in actual glass mugs that got only a brief rinse between customers. Grandma would often tell me, “You should never drink from those communal glasses. Who knows what sort of germs are on them?”…

Now, we got a free gift with our soda purchase! Who would throw away a perfectly reusable plastic cup? Not any Soviet person, that’s for sure. Those cups still had long and productive lives ahead of them as drinking vessels, ashtrays, seedling pots, containers for bolts and nails, et cetera.

The excitement of this type of shopping contrasted with the dreary burden of obtaining groceries as part of day-to-day life in the cities.    When something interesting like oranges or bananas appeared in the market, people would line up for hours just to have a chance at buying a few.   On most days, access to such items was unimaginable.

Scarcity accompanied every Soviet citizen every step of the way from the cradle to the grave. The key word for Soviet shoppers was defitzit. If an item was in deficit, that meant it almost never appeared for sale in stores. So many food items were defitzit that it’s easier to say what wasn’t: potatoes, bread, pasta, salt, and canned fish. Those were the only items you could always count on finding in the stores….

Paradoxically, empty stores often meant full pantries. Since no one ever knew when any particular item might appear in stores, everything even remotely useful was bought on sight, regardless of whether it was actually needed. This went for food as well, making constant shortages a self-fulfilling prophecy.

In our house, the cupboards were always bursting with various flours, grains, and legumes. Unfortunately, there weren’t enough well-sealed containers to hold them all. Every few years, Mom and Grandma would inspect their food supply and invariably have to throw out most of it, because it was infested with little multilegged black vermin known under the generic term zhuchki, or “bugs.” Then they’d buy more fresh flour and grains. It was a vicious cycle without end. Insects infested every nook and cranny of Soviet life.

If someone said about some kid, “His parents are rich,” we wouldn’t know what to make of it. If they had said, “His mom is a director of a gastronom [market],” that would’ve been something! That kid probably ate ham and bananas every day, like the big shots in the Kremlin.

The lack of goods extended well beyond food, of course.

Our parents didn’t have the slightest clue about modern conveniences like trash bags, wet wipes, paper handkerchiefs, disposable diapers, shaving gel, and tampons (or any other types of female sanitary products). Until the mid-1970s, there wasn’t even such a thing as deodorant…

A typical Soviet apartment of those days looked like it belonged to hoarders. Nothing was ever thrown out, not even things that were hopelessly broken. After all, a broken thing might still get fixed someday, or at least used for scrap parts. So, families stockpiled rubbish—worn-out shoes, parts of broken furniture, punctured bicycle tires, et cetera—in their already cramped apartments, filling cluttered balconies, basements, and sometimes entire rooms with items left to gather dust and await the day, usually in vain, when they would be fixed or repurposed.

Because laws of supply and demand did not apply, and shortages were permanent, the only way to procure many items was through blat. Blat meant knowing a guy, or knowing a guy who knew a guy…  If you could get people a sheepskin coat or a regular supply of good cuts of meat, then you’d be able to leverage those favors for other favors: quality medical care, a spot at a Black Sea resort, university placement for an underachieving child, or even the papers necessary to avoid a military draft.

As the years went on, Grechishkin was encouraged to join the Young Pioneers, often thought of as the Soviet answer to the Boy Scouts.   There were a few differences though:

Unlike the American Boy Scouts, who overflow with sincere Old Glory patriotism, the Young Pioneers understood that they were part of a sham. Everyone knew our drums and red flags were just pageantry for the sake of pageantry. We marched because we were instructed to do so by the teachers, not because we were genuinely excited by the advent of Communism. And the teachers made sure we did it not because they wanted to mold us into good Communists but because they didn’t want a visit from the city district officials.

He also joined another group, the International Friendship Club, which came with some amazing benefits, due to their role in hosting visiting delegations from foreign leftist groups.    The small trinkets the foreigners would give him, like pencils with cartoon characters or scented erasers, were mysterious treasures to the Soviet students.   

Gifts were the most valuable aspect of heading the International Friendship Club; my childhood aspirations were mostly material. There was practically no end to my material desires, stifled as they were by Soviet austerity. 

I didn’t nurture hopes of my parents getting back together, like other children of divorce. I yearned not for academic honors or sports trophies. I didn’t dream of becoming a cosmonaut. I had no hope of any abstract freedoms, like being able to read whatever book I wanted in peace without the KGB breathing down my neck. 

I just wanted lots and lots of foreign pencils and erasers and stickers. I wanted our family to have a car. I also wanted my own room, and a color TV, and of course, lots and lots of toy soldiers—not the flat plastic ones but the awesome 3-D ones. And sweets, oh my God: cake, chocolate, Pepsi, some of that Donald chewing gum. And bananas. I would have killed for bananas.

Grechishkin continues describing his school years, and his gradually growing awareness of the pervasiveness of the propaganda constantly surrounding him.    By listening to Voice of America and similar sources, he started to realize the dramatic differences between his lifestyle and that of the prosperous West.   Further crazy-sounding anecdotes focus on other issues like the state of Soviet medical care, attitudes towards sex and dating, and the prevalence of workplace theft as a tool to supplement the pitiful salaries paid by the government.    In addition, he expands on the official corruption and anti-semitism that he repeatedly observed.    He also shares the sad story of his father, a dissident who was eventually committed to a mental hospital for daring to criticize the Soviet system.

But in the 1980s, after Brezhnev’s death and a couple of short-lived successors, the Gorbachev reforms began, totally upending many details of daily life.   Fortunately for Grechishkin, Gorbachev eliminated the military draft just before he became eligible.    As controls over the media loosened, he was able to see “Star Wars” in a movie theater, and suddenly it dawned on him that he, too, could escape the “evil empire”.    

All movies are essentially escapes from reality, and sci-fi space operas even more so, but in this case, the divide between the magic on the screen and the dead, gray routine of real life was simply too much to bear….

The Soviet Union had always excused its sad state of poverty and dilapidation with its striving for Communism; it seems unreasonable to expect things to be clean, attractive, and in good order during such a monumental transition. All Soviet citizens were born, grew up, worked, gave birth, and died under an all-encompassing implied sign: “Pardon Our Dust, Work in Progress.” 

But in the last years, it had been dawning on people more and more that there was no actual work being done—there was only dust.   The USSR was not decrepit and poor because it was putting all its effort into building a bright, shiny tomorrow for all the people, with limitless food, free toys for all children, vacations on Mars, and a room for every person to themselves, in a separate apartment without endless lines for the toilet. It was that way because construction had long stopped.

  even if the tech crew ever got people over to Mars on one of their hundreds of flying saucers that seemed to consume all resources and talent, the only thing one could imagine them doing there was sitting in on party meetings (albeit perhaps in space suits) and eating the same meatballs with the same cockroaches, which would surely survive the trip even better than the human travelers. 

And all the while, somewhere else, people really were dreaming big, and having grand visions of cosmic proportions, and inspiring each other to strive for the forces of light in the face of all adversity.

He eventually managed to get accepted into a Chinese Studies department in college, correctly figuring that becoming an expert in a foreign language would increase his chances of traveling abroad.    As a result, he succeeded in leaving the USSR, and later began a successful career as a Western banker.  

One final point we can’t finish without mentioning is the jokes.   Grechishkin opens each chapter with a short joke, and many of these are quite revealing about Soviet life.   Here are just a few of our favorite examples:

A woman is taking a bath in a communal apartment and notices a man’s face watching her from behind frosted glass.    “What’s the matter with you?!” she yells.    “Oh please, like you’ve got something I’ve not seen before,” he says. “I’m just making sure you’re not using my soap!”

A teacher in a Soviet kindergarten tells her class, “Unlike in the capitalist countries, in the USSR, children have plenty to eat and nice clothes to wear. They live in large apartments, and they have lots of wonderful toys to play with.”    In the back row, a little boy starts to cry. “I don’t want to live here anymore!” he says. “I want to live in the USSR!”

The USSR developed a new brand of boiled sausage and decided to send it to a laboratory in America for independent testing. Three weeks later, they received the reply: “There were no parasites identified in this stool sample.”

<closing conversation with Manuel>

As usual, there is plenty more to learn from Grechishkin’s memoir, besides the tiny bits we’ve excerpted here.    Be sure to follow the link in the show notes at storiesofcommunism.com, or look up his book “Everything Is Normal” yourself, and you can read more of the sad but ironic truths about life under Communist rule.

And this has been your story of Communism for today.


Episode 28: Out of Czechoslovakia

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Welcome to Stories of Communism, the podcast where we review and discuss the firsthand testimony of those who lived through the horrors of Communism.   This is Erik Seligman, your co-host, along with Manuel Castaneda, recording from the suburbs of Portland, Oregon.

For this episode, we’re interviewing Slovakian Jewish immigrant Klara Sever.   As you’ll hear in the interview, she was among the many people “rescued” by the Soviets from the Holocaust at the end of World War II.    She thought they were offering freedom, but soon discovered they were just delivering another form of totalitarian oppression.

Before we go, we’d also like to thank listener “rightschu”, who left us another great review on Apple Podcasts.   If you are enjoying the podcast, please consider clicking the link at http://storiesofcommunism.com and doing the same!    You can also find links to Klara’s memoir (sadly not yet available in English) and other references in our show notes there.

And this has been your story of Communism for today.


Episode 27: The First Massachusetts Commune

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Welcome to Stories of Communism, the podcast where we review and discuss the firsthand testimony of those who lived through the horrors of Communism.   This is Erik Seligman, your co-host, along with Manuel Castaneda, recording from the suburbs of Portland, Oregon.

Today we’re taking another historical dive into the pre-Marx days:  we’ll be discussing the Puritans who arrived at Plymouth in 1620.     An often overlooked aspect of this early American colony was the fact that initially, they formed a government that had much in common with modern ideas of Communism.    I’d heard this story secondhand a few times, but recently discovered that the original journal of William Bradford, one of Plymouth’s early governors, is freely available online at gutenberg.org.   I took a look, and was surprised how modern some of it sounded— there are some parts that, aside from the slightly archaic language, would not be out of place in a Cuban propaganda film, or a Bernie Sanders campaign brochure.  

The initial agreement that the colonists made was to hold all property in common, and all work for the common good.   Perhaps realizing this was an experiment in a new form of government, they initially set the agreement to run for a term of 7 years.   Here are some of the highlights:

 …all profits & benifits that are gott by trade, traffick, trucking, working, fishing, or any other means of any person or persons, remaine still in the com̅one stock … 
That all such persons as are of this collonie, are to have their meate, drink, apparell, and all provissions out of the com̅on stock & goods of the said collonie. 

William Bradford. Bradford's History of 'Plimoth Plantation' / From the Original Manuscript. With a Report of the Proceedings Incident to the Return of the Manuscript to Massachusetts (Kindle Locations 1282-1298). 

There was a lot of grumbling by some of the party about these conditions.   In particular, some were investing more than others into the venture, and didn’t think it was quite fair that everyone should be in this state of forced labor and equal possessions for the first seven years.   But one of their leaders, Robert Cushmans, explained the reasoning:

Consider wheraboute we are, not giveing almes, but furnishing a store house; no one shall be porer then another for 7. years, and if any be rich, none can be pore. At the least, we must not in such bussines crie, Pore, pore, mercie, mercie….
This will hinder the building of good and faire houses, contrarie to the advise of pollitiks… So we would have it; our purpose is to build for the presente such houses as, if need be, we may with litle greefe set a fire, and rune away by the lighte; our riches shall not be in pompe, but in strenght; if God send us riches, we will imploye them to provid more men, ships, munition, &c. You may see it amongst the best pollitiks, that a com̅onwele is readier to ebe then to flow, when once fine houses and gay cloaths come up. 
…I say he that is not contente his neighbour shall have as good a house, fare, means, &c. as him selfe, is not of a good qualitie… . Such retired persons, as have aneie only to them selves, … are fitter to live alone, then in any societie, either civill or religious. 
… Our freinds with us that adventure mind not their owne profite, as did the old adventurers… Then they are better then we, who for a litle matter of profite are readie to draw back, and it is more apparente brethern looke too it, that make profite your maine end; repente of this, els goe not least you be like Jonas to Tarshis. 
(Kindle Locations 1393-1409). 

Sounds great, doesn’t it?    Unfortunately, in reality, the colonists’ first couple of years at Massachusetts were very difficult:  somehow they never planted or gathered enough food, and the colony was soon on the verge of starvation.   Desperate colonists traded everything they had to the local Indians, and were reduced to begging or stealing from them when they ran out of possessions to trade.

It may be thought strang that these people should fall to these extremities in so short a time, being left competently provided when the ship left them, and had an addition… of corn that was got by trade, besids much they gott of the Indans wher they lived, by one means & other. It must needs be their great disorder, for they spent excesseivly whilst they had, or could get it; and, it may be, wasted parte away among the Indeans … And after they begane to come into wants, many sould away their cloathes and bed coverings; others (so base were they) became servants to the Indeans, and would cutt them woode & fetch them water, for a cap full of corne; others fell to plaine stealing, both night & day, from the Indeans, of which they greevosly complained. 
In the end, they came to that misery, that some starved & dyed with could & hunger. One in geathering shell-fish was so weake as he stuck fast in the mudd, and was found dead in the place. At last most of them left their dwellings & scatered up & downe in the woods, & by the water sids, wher they could find ground nuts & clames,

(Kindle Locations 2534-2543). 

The starving colonists realized that something fundamental had gone wrong, and got together to try to figure out some kind of radical solution to their problems.    Listen to the solution they came up with:

All this whille no supply was heard of, neither knew they when they might expecte any. So they begane to thinke how they might raise as much corne as they could, and obtaine a beter crope then they had done, that they might not still thus languish in miserie. At length, after much debate of things, the Gov r (with the advise of the cheefest amongest them) gave way that they should set corne every man for his owne perticuler, and in that regard trust to them selves… 
And so assigned to every family a parcell of land, according to the proportion of their number for that end… 

This had very good success; for it made all hands very industrious, so as much more corne was planted then other waise would have bene by any means the Gov r or any other could use, and saved him a great deall of trouble, and gave farr better contente. The women now wente willingly into the feild, and tooke their litle-ons with them to set corne, which before would aledg weaknes, and inabilitie; whom to have compelled would have bene thought great tiranie and oppression. 

(Kindle Locations 2593-2602). 

What I find most important here is Bradford’s insightful reflection on these events.   He talks about the fact that the dream of communal living and equality of property had appealed to humanity since ancient times— but it fundamentally ignores realities of human nature.   You could easily imagine some of these passages being written today in response to modern socialists and communists.  

The experience that was had in this com̅one course and condition, tried sundrie years, and that amongst godly and sober men, may well evince the vanitie of that conceite of Platos & other ancients, applauded by some of later times;—that the taking away of propertie, and bringing in com̅unitie into a comone wealth, would make them happy and florishing; as if they were wiser then God. 

For this comunitie (so farr as it was) was found to breed much confusion & discontent, and retard much imploymÄ“t that would have been to their benefite and comforte. For the yong-men that were most able and fitte for labour & service did repine that they should spend their time & streingth to worke for other mens wives and children, with out any recompence. 

The strong, or man of parts, had no more in devission of victails & cloaths, then he that was weake and not able to doe a quarter the other could; this was thought injuestice. The aged and graver men to be ranked and equalised in labours, and victails, cloaths, &c., with the meaner & yonger sorte, thought it some indignite & disrespect unto them. And for mens wives to be commanded to doe servise for other men, as dresing their meate, washing their cloaths, &c., they deemd it a kind of slaverie, neither could many husbands well brooke it. …

Let none objecte this is men's corruption, and nothing to the course it selfe. I answer, seeing all men have this corruption in them, God in his wisdome saw another course fiter for them. 

(Kindle Locations 2603-2616). 

In some sense, this is an old story, as you may have heard conservative authors allude to it periodically on Thanksgiving or at similar times.    But as I mentioned, Bradford’s original memoir is surprisingly relevant to a lot of today’s discussion of capitalism vs communism and socialism.  I think it’s especially important to share his recognition that the idea of eliminating private property and living in a communal paradise of sharing and equality is a universal human impulse has been around for thousands of years— it didn’t originate with Marx, though he gave it its modern form and language.   Some of the key concepts were shared with Plato’s Republic, written in ancient Greece.    And Plato was probably not the first to speculate along those lines.

This philosophy comes from a place of caring and empathy, and many other fundamentally admirable and moral motives.   But as we’ve seen in the many episodes of this podcast, the societies that have tried to turn this ideal into a reality have created conflict, violence, slavery, and starvation.    A logical conclusion is that the idea of private property is somehow built into human nature.   If you are religious like Bradford, you might even share his view that it’s somehow ordained by God.  

<closing conversation with Manuel>

Before we go, we’d also like to thank listeners “blkconserve” and “AokiGolf”, who left us nice reviews on Apple Podcasts.   If you are enjoying the podcast, please consider clicking the link at http://storiesofcommunism.com and doing the same!    You can also find links to Bradford’s journal and other references in our show notes there.

And this has been your story of Communism for today.