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REPORT ON THE FOOD TAX

26 MAY
Comrades, I was compelled to address the question of the food tax for the Party in a pamphlet that, I assume, is familiar to most of those present *. For me personally, bringing this issue before the Party conference came as something of a surprise—though I did not, on my own initiative, possess sufficient materials to justify such a move. Yet many comrades who had worked at the local level, particularly Comrade Osinsky, after traveling through several guberniyas reported to the Central Committee—and this view was subsequently echoed by several other comrades—that, in the field, the policy formulated in connection with the food tax remained, to a great extent, poorly explained, and in some cases even misunderstood. Given the exceptional importance of this policy, further discussion at the Party conference seemed so imperative that it was decided to convene the conference ahead of schedule.
As you know, we in the Central Committee resolved to divide the report on this matter into four parts, assigning four speakers: Comrade Kamenev would address the role of cooperative work; Comrade Milyutin would speak on small-scale industry; Comrade Svidersky would discuss the precise calculations and assumptions underlying the Comprod’s policies, as well as the organizational measures associated with them. Of particular significance here are the Instructions and Regulations on the Tax System, which have already been partially

* See this volume, pp. 205–245. Ed.

approved by the Sovnarkom, with the remainder scheduled for approval in the near future. Finally, Comrade Khinchuk was to serve as the fourth speaker—now completely relieved of his duties at the Comprod so that he could devote himself entirely to cooperative work as Chairman of Centrosyuz.
The fundamental principle adopted was that commodity exchange in this context should be carried out primarily, and indeed largely, through Centrosyuz and the cooperative movement. We must formalize these relationships in the agreement between the Comprod and Centrosyuz—a relationship that has taken shape in the form of a contractual arrangement. According to this agreement, all goods available for commodity exchange are transferred by the Comprod to Centrosyuz. From this, the role of Centrosyuz becomes clear, and there is no need to dwell on it at length. Thus, it falls to me to provide an introduction to the broader significance of this policy—and I intend only to offer a few brief additions to what I have already set forth in the pamphlet. As for how the question is currently being approached at the local level, and which shortcomings, deficiencies, and ambiguities are most keenly felt in the field, I am not directly informed on these matters. I will likely need to offer further clarifications once the questions raised at the conference—or the subsequent debates—reveal in which direction the attention of local cadres and the Party should now be directed.
As far as I could discern, the misunderstandings and lack of clarity surrounding the political objectives linked to the food tax and the New Economic Policy may, in part, stem from exaggerations on one side or the other of the issue. But such exaggerations are entirely inevitable—as long as we have not yet put our policies into practice—and it is hardly possible, before we have conducted even a single food campaign under the new principles, to determine with any precision the true limits of application for the various features of this policy. I will briefly touch upon certain contradictions that, as I gathered from the notes submitted at the meeting, gave rise to the greatest

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amount of misunderstanding. The food tax—and the related changes in our economic policy—are often interpreted as marking a radical break in our overall political course. It is not surprising that this interpretation is vigorously amplified by foreign White Guard publications, especially those of the Socialist-Revolutionaries and Mensheviks. Yet whether due to the influence of similar actions taking place within the territory of the RSFSR, or because of the heightened discontent that was felt in certain circles—and perhaps still lingers today—owing to the drastic deterioration of the food situation, it is possible that, to a certain extent, these kinds of misgivings also spread among us, leading to a rather distorted understanding of the significance of the changes made and the nature of the new policy.
Naturally, given the overwhelming predominance of the rural population, our primary task—and indeed the overarching task of politics, and of economic policy in particular—is to establish appropriate relations between the working class and the peasantry. For the first time in modern history, we find ourselves in a social order where the exploiting class has been eliminated, yet we are confronted with two distinct classes: the working class and the peasantry. With the peasantry constituting the vast majority of the population, this numerical preponderance could not fail to leave its mark on economic policy—and on politics as a whole. The central question for us remains—and will inevitably remain for many years to come—the proper establishment of relations between these two classes, in a way that best advances the goal of abolishing class distinctions. The formula of “agreement between the working class and the peasantry” is frequently invoked, and all too often it is wielded against us by enemies of Soviet power—because, in itself, this formula is utterly vague. One can interpret “agreement between the working class and the peasantry” in virtually any way. Unless we bear in mind that, from the standpoint of the working class, such an agreement is permissible, correct, and fundamentally feasible only when it supports the dictatorship of the working class and serves as one

From measures aimed at the abolition of classes, the formula for an agreement between the working class and the peasantry, of course, remains a formula that all enemies of Soviet power—and all adversaries of the dictatorship—embrace in their own views and actively pursue. But how, in the first period of our revolution—that is, the period which we may now roughly regard as having entered into its actual implementation—how was this agreement to be realized? How did the dictatorship of the proletariat, in the face of a vast peasant majority, manage to endure and consolidate itself? The primary cause, the chief driving force, and the decisive factor behind our agreement was the Civil War. Although the Civil War often began with alliances against us—including the White Guards, Socialist Revolutionaries, and Mensheviks—it invariably ended up, time and again, with all Socialist Revolutionary and Menshevik elements either being pushed into the background, through state coups or otherwise, or else being completely supplanted by capitalist and landlord elements who took center stage in the White Guard movement. This was true both under Kolchak and Denikin, as well as in the numerous smaller governments and incursions directed against us. And it was this very circumstance that fundamentally shaped the form of the alliance between the proletariat and the peasantry. On the one hand, this fact presented us with unparalleled difficulties on two fronts; yet, on the other hand, it spared us the need to agonize over how the formula for an alliance between the working class and the peasantry ought to be implemented—because military conditions dictated this formula and these terms with absolute categorical imperativeness, leaving us no room whatsoever for choice.
The working class alone was capable of exercising the dictatorship in the form required by the war and by the conditions of that Civil War. The participation of landlords in the struggle unconditionally, unequivocally, and irrevocably united the working class and the peasantry. In this respect, there were no internal political hesitations. Faced with colossal hardships—due to our severance from Russia’s principal grain-producing regions, and because food supplies had been brought to the brink of collapse— X ALL-RUSSIAN CONFERENCE OF THE RCP(b)
Under such dire circumstances, our food policy could not have been implemented in practice without the system of grain requisitioning. This system of requisitioning did not merely entail the seizure of surplus grain—surplus that would scarcely have sufficed even if distributed according to optimal principles. I cannot dwell here on the specific irregularities that accompanied the requisitioning process. At any rate, the requisitioning system did fulfill its primary task: to preserve industry, however limited our ability to do so given our extreme isolation from the grain-producing regions. And only within the context of wartime conditions could this goal be achieved to any meaningful degree. Once we had truly and firmly defeated the external enemy—which, in fact, did not become a reality until 1921—the challenge before us shifted: we now faced the task of forging an economic alliance between the working class and the peasantry. It was only in the spring of 1921 that we squarely confronted this task—and it was then, when the poor harvest of 1920 had driven the situation of the peasantry to an almost unimaginable crisis, that we for the first time experienced, to a certain extent, internal political oscillations—not stemming from external pressures exerted by enemies, but arising from the relationship between the working class and the peasantry. Had the year 1920 yielded a bountiful harvest—or at least a good harvest—we might have been able to carry out most of our industrial program, and we would have possessed a substantial fund with which to exchange urban industrial products for agricultural goods. Instead, the opposite occurred: in some areas, the fuel crisis proved even more acute than the food crisis, and it became utterly impossible to supply rural households with urban products. The crisis facing the rural economy grew extraordinarily severe. It was precisely from these circumstances that it became clear: under the old food policy, we simply could not remain where we were. We had to place, as a matter of urgency, the question of what economic foundations were needed for an alliance between the working class and the peasantry—and to move forward to the next steps.

The transitional measure toward further progress ultimately boils down to preparing for the exchange of industrial products for agricultural goods—establishing an order in which the peasant would have no need to part with his produce except in exchange for urban and factory-produced goods, while at the same time avoiding subjection to all the forms that had prevailed under the capitalist system. However, given our economic circumstances, we could not even begin to contemplate such a path. That is why we adopted the transitional form I have been discussing: to collect produce as tax without any equivalent, then secure additional output through commodity exchange. Yet this required a corresponding reserve—a reserve that was exceedingly meager in our case, and the prospect of replenishing it through foreign trade was realized only this year, thanks to a series of agreements with capitalist powers. To be sure, these agreements are still but an introduction, a prelude; full-scale commodity exchange has yet to commence. Sabotage and every conceivable attempt to disrupt these arrangements by the majority—or indeed, by the greater part—of capitalist circles have continued unabated. Most strikingly, the White Guard–oriented Russian press—including the Socialist Revolutionary and Menshevik papers—has scarcely devoted more energy or greater tenacity to any other issue than to these very agreements. It is perfectly clear that the bourgeoisie is better prepared for struggle, more advanced than the proletariat, and that its class consciousness has been sharpened to an even greater degree by all the “hardships” it has endured—and it displays a sensitivity far more acute than the norm. One need only take a close look at the White Guard–oriented press to see that it strikes precisely at the very point that lies at the heart, the fulcrum, of our political strategy.
After the failure of the military invasion—which, though fighting still raged, had clearly come to naught—the entire White Guard–oriented Russian press set itself an impossible goal: to sabotage the trade agreements. The campaign launched this past spring, carried out on an extraordinarily intensified scale—with the Socialist Revolutionaries and the…

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…took first place among counterrevolutionary forces—this struggle was waged with a specific objective in mind: by spring, to scuttle the economic agreements between Russia and the capitalist world. And in large measure, they succeeded in achieving that goal. To be sure, we have concluded the principal treaties, and the number of these agreements is growing; moreover, we are overcoming the resistance that has intensified in this area—but the delay that ensued proved extremely perilous for us. For without a certain amount of assistance from abroad, the restoration of large-scale industry and the reestablishment of proper commodity exchange either becomes impossible or entails a delay so severe as to be highly dangerous. These are the conditions under which we must act—and it is precisely these conditions that have brought the question of restoring trade for the peasantry to the forefront. I will not dwell on the issue of concessions, since this matter has been debated most extensively at party meetings and has recently ceased to give rise to any lingering doubts. The situation remains unchanged: we continue to earnestly offer concessions, yet to date, no foreign capitalists have secured even a single truly substantial concession, nor have we concluded a single solid concession agreement. The real difficulty lies in finding a practical, empirically tested method for attracting Western European capital.
Theoretically speaking, there can be no doubt whatsoever for us—and I believe that everyone’s lingering doubts on this score have now been dispelled—though I emphasize: theoretically, it is perfectly clear that we would benefit greatly from buying off European capital with a few dozen or a few hundred million, funds we might still allocate to them in order to rapidly increase our stockpiles of equipment, materials, raw resources, and machinery needed to restore our large-scale industry.
The true and sole foundation for consolidating our resources and for building a socialist society is one and only one: large-scale industry. Without a capitalist, large-scale factory—or, more precisely, without a highly developed, large-scale industrial sector—it is simply impossible to speak of socialism at all, let alone…

It may be that this discussion pertains to a peasant country—and in Russia, we now understand this far more concretely than before. Instead of an indeterminate or abstract approach to the restoration of large-scale industry, we are now speaking of a specific, meticulously calculated, concrete plan for electrification. We possess a thoroughly refined plan, developed with the assistance of Russia’s finest specialists and scholars—a plan that gives us a clear understanding of the resources at our disposal, taking into account Russia’s unique natural endowments, and which shows us precisely how we can lay the foundations of large-scale industry within our economy—foundations we must establish, and will establish. Without this, there can be no question of truly constructing a socialist base for our economic life. This remains utterly beyond dispute; and while, in recent times, discussions about the tax in kind were often couched in abstract terms, it is now time to state clearly: above all else, we must restore large-scale industry. I have personally heard such pronouncements from certain comrades—and, of course, my only response to them was to shrug my shoulders. To suggest that we might ever forget this fundamental objective is, quite simply, absurd and ridiculous. The only question is: how could such doubts and misgivings have arisen among our comrades? How could they possibly have come to believe that this primary, overarching task—without which the material, productive basis of socialism is impossible—that this task has somehow slipped into second place? These comrades simply misunderstood the relationship between our state and small-scale industry. Our central task is the restoration of large-scale industry. And in order to move forward, even in a serious and systematic manner, toward the restoration of this large-scale industry, we must first restore small-scale industry.” In 1921—and again last year—we experienced a profound interruption in our efforts to rebuild large-scale industry.
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but their operations had to be suspended. Why? For what reason? Many factories were fully capable of securing sufficient labor and procuring adequate raw materials—but why did their work come to a halt? Because we lacked a sufficient supply of food and fuel. Without a state reserve of 400 million poods of grain—though this figure is approximate—properly managed and distributed on a monthly basis, it is difficult to speak of sound economic development or of restoring large-scale industry. Without such a reserve, we find ourselves in a situation where, after just a few months of progress in rebuilding large-scale industry, operations are once again brought to a standstill. The vast majority of enterprises that had been restarted now lie idle. Without a fully secure and ample food supply, there can be no question of the state being able to focus its attention—or to systematically prioritize the restoration of large-scale industry, to ensure that, however modest the scale, this restoration proceeds without interruption.
As for fuel, until the Donbas is restored, and until we can secure a steady supply of oil, we are once again reliant on forests and wood-based heating—and thus, once again, dependent on small-scale farming.
This is why our comrades fell into error, into a mistaken understanding: they failed to grasp why, at this very moment, the primary focus must be placed on the peasantry. Some workers complain: “The peasants are given certain concessions, but we receive nothing in return.” I have heard such remarks—and I would argue that these complaints are not particularly widespread, for they are, in fact, quite dangerous. They echo the line of reasoning advanced by the Socialist-Revolutionaries; here we see a clear political provocation—and, moreover, remnants of guild-based, non‑class, professional prejudices among workers, who view the working class as merely one component of an equal, capitalist society, failing to recognize that they themselves still stand upon the same capitalist foundation: the peasants are granted concessions, freed from requisitioning, allowed to exchange their surplus freely—while we, the workers, remain at our machines, demanding the same for ourselves.
At the root of this way of thinking lies the same essentially petty-bourgeois ideology. Since the peasantry forms an integral part of capitalist society, the working class likewise remains a component of that very same society. Consequently, if the peasant engages in trade, then surely we too ought to engage in trade. And so, old prejudices that bind the worker to the old world inevitably resurface. The most ardent defenders—and indeed, the only genuinely sincere defenders—of the old capitalist order are the Socialist-Revolutionaries and the Mensheviks. Among the other factions, you will search in vain through hundreds, thousands, even hundreds of thousands of those who sincerely defend capitalism. Yet within the ranks of so‑called “pure” democracy—as represented by the Socialist-Revolutionaries and the Mensheviks—there still linger rare specimens who earnestly uphold capitalism. The more stubbornly they cling to their views, the more dangerous their influence becomes upon the working class. Their danger is especially acute during periods when the working class experiences interruptions in production. The principal material foundation for the development of class-conscious proletarian self-awareness is large-scale industry—when the worker sees factories in operation, when he daily feels the power that alone can truly abolish classes.
When workers lose this material, productive base beneath their feet, a state of imbalance, uncertainty, despair, and disbelief begins to take hold among certain segments of the working class—and when combined with the direct provocations of our bourgeois democracy—the Socialist-Revolutionaries and the Mensheviks—it exerts a definite impact. Thus arises a psychology whereby even within the ranks of the Communist Party, some individuals begin to reason in this way: “The peasants have been given a handout,”

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We must, on this very same ground and by employing the same methods, extend similar measures to the workers as well. We have, to a certain extent, had to yield to this demand. Of course, the decree granting workers a portion of factory products as remuneration is a concession to those sentiments that are rooted in the past—sentiments bound up with a state of disbelief and despair. To a certain small degree, this concession was necessary. It has been made—but we must never for a single moment forget that what we are doing, and what we continue to do, is to make a concession that is justified not from any standpoint other than the economic one, not from any perspective save that of the interests of the proletariat. The proletariat’s fundamental and most essential interest lies in the reestablishment of large-scale industry and in the consolidation of a solid economic base within it; only then can it strengthen its dictatorship, and only then can it, despite all political and military difficulties, bring its dictatorship to a successful conclusion. So why were we compelled to make this concession—and why is it extremely dangerous if we allow it to be viewed more broadly than it ought to be? Precisely because it was only the temporary conditions and the severe shortages in food and fuel that forced us to embark upon this path.
When we say that our approach to the peasantry must shift from the basis of prodrazvyorstka to that of taxation—what, then, is the primary economic determinant of this policy? It is that under the system of prodrazvyorstka, small peasant holdings lack a proper economic foundation and are condemned, for many years to come, to remain stagnant; small-scale farming cannot truly exist or develop, for the smallholder loses all incentive to consolidate and expand his operations, to increase his output—and thus we find ourselves bereft of an economic base. We have no other base, no other source; and without the centralized control of substantial food reserves by the state, there can be no question of rebuilding large-scale industry. That is why, above all else, we are pursuing this policy—one that alters our food relations.
We are pursuing it so that we may build up a fund for the reconstruction of large-scale industry, so that we may liberate the working class from all the interruptions that large-scale industry—indeed, even large-scale industry of our rather meager sort, when compared with the advanced nations—should never have to endure; so that we may free the proletariat from the necessity of resorting, in their search for means of subsistence, to methods that are not proletarian but speculative, petty-bourgeois—methods that pose the greatest economic danger to us. Due to the grim realities of our situation, proletarians are often forced to turn to ways of earning a living that are not proletarian, that are not linked to large-scale industry, but instead are petty-bourgeois, speculative—and whether through theft or through private production on public factories, they seek to procure goods for themselves, then exchange those goods for agricultural products. This is our chief economic peril, the central threat to the very existence of the Soviet system. Yet now, for the proletariat to exercise its dictatorship, it must feel secure in its own identity as a class, must feel the ground beneath its feet. But that ground is vanishing. Instead of a large, continuously operating machine-driven factory, the proletarian encounters something else—and is compelled to enter the economic sphere as a speculator or a small-scale producer.
To liberate him from this predicament, we must not hesitate to make whatever sacrifices are necessary during the transitional period. In order to ensure the steady, if somewhat slow, restoration of large-scale industry, we must not shrink from making concessions to foreign capitalists who are greedy for such handouts—because, from the standpoint of socialist construction, it is actually advantageous to overpay hundreds of millions to foreign capitalists, provided that we thereby obtain the machinery and materials needed to restore large-scale industry, which will rebuild the proletariat’s economic base, transforming it into a firm, enduring proletariat—not into the kind of proletariat that remains mired in speculation. The Mensheviks and Socialist Revolutionaries have been shouting in our ears for years that since the proletariat has become declassed, we must therefore abandon the tasks of the dictatorship of the proletariat. They have been crying out this refrain since 1917,

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And it is no surprise that they kept hammering away at this point until 1921. Yet when we hear these attacks, we do not respond by claiming that there is no such thing as declassing, that there are no downsides whatsoever—but rather, we point out that the conditions of both Russian and international reality are such that even when the proletariat must endure a period of declassing, even when it must bear these hardships, it can still, despite these very difficulties, accomplish its task of seizing and holding onto power.
To deny that the conditions of proletarian declassing constitute a disadvantage is laughable, absurd, and utterly nonsensical. By 1921, we had seen that after the conclusion of the struggle against external enemies, the most serious danger—and indeed the greatest evil—was our inability to sustain continuous production at the major enterprises that had survived, though in only small numbers. This is the crux of the matter. Without such a solid economic base, the working class cannot maintain firm political power. To ensure the uninterrupted restoration of large-scale industry, we must organize the food supply in such a way that a reserve of, say, 400 million poods is secured and properly distributed. We certainly could not have amassed this reserve through the old system of requisitioning. The years 1920 and 1921 made this abundantly clear. Now we see that through the introduction of the food tax, we can indeed accomplish this task—which presents enormous challenges. We cannot solve this problem using the old methods; we must devise new approaches. We can resolve this task by means of the food tax and by establishing proper relations with the peasantry as small producers. Thus far, we have devoted considerable attention to demonstrating this theoretically.
It seems to me that, judging from the party press and from discussions at meetings, it has been fully established in theory that we can solve this task while keeping transport, large factories, and the economic base firmly in the hands of the proletariat—alongside political power. We must grant the peasantry ample room to operate as small producers. Without a revival of peasant agriculture, we will be unable to resolve the food situation.
It is within this framework that we must approach the question of developing small-scale industry on the basis of freedom of trade and freedom of circulation. This freedom of circulation is the means by which we can forge relationships between the working class and the peasantry that are economically stable. We now possess increasingly precise data on the scale of agricultural production. At the Party Congress, a pamphlet on grain production was distributed; at that time, it had already been printed in proof form and distributed among the delegates. Since then, this material has been collected and disseminated. Although the final version of the pamphlet has already been submitted for typesetting, it is not yet ready for the conference, and I cannot say whether it will be published in time for the conference to adjourn. We will take every possible measure to ensure this happens, but we cannot promise that we will succeed in getting it out in print.
This is just a small portion of the work we have undertaken to determine, as accurately as possible, the state of agricultural production and the resources at our disposal.
Still, we can say that there is evidence indicating that we are quite capable of resolving the economic challenge—especially this year, when crop prospects are not entirely bleak, or not as poor as we might have expected in the spring. This gives us the opportunity to build up an agricultural fund so that we may devote ourselves wholeheartedly to the task of restoring large-scale industry—albeit slowly, yet continuously.
To successfully complete the task of collecting the food fund, we must find appropriate forms of engagement with the peasantry, with smallholders—and here, apart from the food tax, no other viable form exists; no one has proposed an alternative, nor can we imagine one. But we must tackle this task in practice: we must ensure the proper implementation of the food tax, carrying it out not as before, when we would collect two or three times, leaving the peasant in far worse conditions—so that

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the most diligent peasant suffered the most, and any possibility of economically stable relations was lost. The food tax, while still a measure of compulsory levy on each peasant, must be implemented differently. Based on data previously collected and published, we can say that the food tax will now bring about the most significant and decisive change in this regard—but how well we manage to integrate all these elements remains, to some extent, an open question. What is certain, however, is that we must immediately improve the peasants’ lot.
The task facing local officials is this: on the one hand, to fully implement the food tax; on the other, to do so as quickly as possible. The difficulty is compounded by the fact that this year’s harvest is exceptionally early—and if we prepare according to customary timelines, we may find ourselves too late. That is why the early convening of the Party Conference is both important and timely. We must work faster than ever before to prepare the entire apparatus for collecting the food tax. The speed with which the food tax is collected determines not only the state’s ability to secure a minimum fund of 240 million poods, but also the livelihood of the peasantry. Any delay in tax collection represents a tangible burden for the peasant. Tax collection will not succeed through voluntary compliance alone; we cannot avoid resorting to coercion—and tax collection imposes a series of constraints on peasant households. If we prolong the tax-collection process beyond what is necessary, the peasant will grow dissatisfied and will claim that he is not truly enjoying the freedom to dispose of his surplus. For freedom to be more than mere rhetoric, it must be realized in practice: tax collection must proceed swiftly, so that the tax collector does not linger long over the peasant—and this can be achieved by shortening the interval between harvest and full tax collection.
This is one task; the other is to maximize both the freedom of circulation for the peasantry and the revival of small-scale industry, thereby giving rise to the nascent capitalism that is growing…

On the basis of small-scale ownership and petty trade, we enjoy a certain degree of freedom—and there is no need to fear it, for it poses us absolutely no threat.
Given the current overall economic and political climate, in which the proletariat holds firm control over all major industrial resources and where there can be no talk of any form of denationalization, there is nothing to fear from this. And when we are suffering most acutely from a severe shortage of goods, from utter impoverishment, it is downright absurd to fear that capitalism—rooted in small-scale industrial agriculture—could ever pose a threat. To fear such a thing would mean completely disregarding the balance of forces within our economy; it would mean failing to grasp that, as small peasant holdings, without a certain degree of freedom in circulation and without the capitalist relations that accompany it, rural economies cannot possibly remain stable in any meaningful sense.
Comrades, you must remember this firmly: our primary task is to give impetus everywhere at the local level, to unleash maximum initiative, to demonstrate maximum independence, and to display maximum boldness. So far, we have fallen short in this regard because we have been wary of adopting even moderately broad-based approaches. We lack any practical experience—more or less systematically gathered from the field—regarding how things actually stand locally in terms of commodity exchange and trade; we do not yet know how much small-scale industry has been restored or developed, nor how effectively it can alleviate the plight of the peasantry immediately, without the large-scale infrastructure required by big industry—namely, the massive transport of foodstuffs and fuel to industrial centers. From a macroeconomic perspective, insufficient progress has been made at the local level in this respect. We do not possess these local data; we do not know the state of affairs across the entire republic; we lack concrete examples of truly well-organized work. Indeed, both the Trade Union Congress and the 107th session of the VSNKh left me with this impression.

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The main shortcoming of these congresses, once again, lies in the fact that we spend too much time on such rather abstract matters as theses, general programs, and theoretical discussions—while there is little real opportunity for delegates to share their local experiences, so that when they return to their posts they can say: “Out of a thousand examples, we’ve found just one good practice—and we’re going to emulate it.” Yet we have far more than one good example per thousand; in fact, we have many more. But we see this kind of organized, results-oriented approach far too infrequently.
I do not wish to anticipate events, but I would still like to say a few words about collective worker provisioning—that is, about the transition from ration cards to a system in which a given enterprise is supplied with a fixed quantity of food, based on its actual output and proportional to the volume of work performed. The idea is excellent—but we have turned it into something almost fantastical. In fact, we have yet to carry out any serious preparatory work in this direction. We still do not have a single instance where, in a particular county or at a specific factory—even if it employs only a small number of workers—we have successfully implemented this measure and seen tangible results. This is precisely what we lack—and it is the greatest shortcoming in all our work. We must tirelessly reiterate that, in 1921, instead of dwelling on general questions that were appropriate back in 1918—long ago—we need to focus on the practical implementation of policy. By first and foremost highlighting those places where we already have exemplary models of sound organizational practice—of which we have plenty—we make it imperative for others to follow suit, taking as their guide the best practices achieved in just a few rare, exceptional locales. This applies to the work of the professional congresses, but it also extends to all aspects of food supply and distribution.
In a small number of locations, considerable progress has been made in preparing for the collection of tax-in-kind, commodity exchange, and the like. Yet we have failed to fully study these efforts—and now our major task is to bring the vast majority of districts up to the standard set by the few outstanding examples we already possess. For this work—to practically examine existing experience, to lift up our lagging and average counties and townships—many of which undoubtedly remain in a thoroughly unsatisfactory state, with only a tiny fraction achieving high levels of satisfaction—we must shift our focus. At congresses, we must devote the lion’s share of our attention not to studying general theses and assembly programs, but to examining practical experiences—examples that are satisfactory, or even better than satisfactory—and using these rare but readily available models to help pull up the many lagging and average localities that currently predominate.
These are the remarks I must confine myself to. (Applause.)