Soviet Article "Reports" Student Exchange

The following translation of an article appearing in the Soviet magazine Ogonek was made by Kent Geiger, an assistant professor of sociology at Tufts and presently a Research Fellow in the Harvard Russian Research Center. Geiger was the leader of the Experiment in International Living sub-group of the 41 U. S. students visiting Russia as part of the Cultural Exchange Program. Several Harvard and Radcliffe students were on the exchange; some are quoted in the article, although Geiger warns that such quotes, like other elements, have been skillfully distorted. Geiger's summary, which points up some of the chief themes is included at the end, as is a reply to the article by a former Radcliffe student (see box)

On November 23, 1958 the Soviet Magazine, Ogonek, which has a format and circulation in the U.S.S.R. roughly comparable to that of Life in the U.S.A., published an article entitled "We Visit Them; They Visit Us." It describes the reciprocal tours of student and youth groups which were among the activities provided for by the cultural exchange agreement between the American and Soviet Governments concluded in January, 1958. The first such exchange in the spring of 1958 consisted of small parties of student newspaper editors. The second was on a larger scale, involving 41 Americans who were in the U.S.S.R. for 39 days and 20 Soviet young people who spent 30 days in the U.S.A. during the summer of 1958.

The article, which is very unfavorable to America, was written by Anatole Valiuzhenich, a member of the student editor group which visited the U.S.A. He was also assigned by the Committee of Youth Organizations of the U.S.S.R. to assist the American exchange group which visited the U.S.S.R. during July and August, 1958.

This translation of the article has been made in order to give English speaking readers a chance to inspect a compact but rich and skillfully presented array of negative images and ideas about America. The article is a particularly powerful one because it presents America in the most concrete form, that is, in specific episodes and in the words and actions of actual organizations and individual Americans who are identified by name.

This kind of article cannot be said to be typical of the Soviet press treatment of the exchange program to date. At least some of the accounts which I have seen in Soviet publications have been quite devoid of the bias shown in this one....

"We Visit Them"

"Now we are going to the slaughterhouses, a visit I was able to arrange, at your request, but with some difficulty," Walter Clemens said.

We were so thankful to our guide that we did not even ask him exactly what difficulties he had met with. We were not satisfied with the cursory inspection of the Boston metalworking plant, "Choiser and Schluger," and the Chicago steelcasting "Saut Work," and it would have been very annoying not to visit the famous Chicago slaughterhouses, about which we had heard and read so much.

"You are now in the Chicago slaughterhouses, of Armour!" Ted Spear greets us. He is a tall, lean, middle aged man. "I represent the management and am responsible for public relations."

Ted Spear proposes that we begin the inspection of the slaughterhouses immediately.

"Please leave your cameras at the passageway," our hospitable host adds. "Okay?"

We turn our cameras over to two local trade union workers who in turn give us white robes, and we follow after the rapidly moving Ted Spear.

"In the Armour slaughterhouses 660 hogs and 220 head of cattle are slaughtered every hour. Live stock comes to us, and leaves us as sausages, semi-finished products, and canned meat."

We are hardly able to keep up with Ted Spear. He does not stop in the workshops, and he talks on the run, quickly and crisply. One remembers only the shop preparing pork cutlets. Women work here. Silent, unsmiling, strained faces. Their hands automatically are raised and then lowered, again raised and with difficulty chop off a piece of meat from the inexorably moving carcasses on the conveyor belt. Blood runs down on the dirty, pock-marked cement floor. The monotonous humming of the conveyor, the hoarse breathing of the women meat workers, and the stagnant stench of the poorly ventilated premises....

"Please don't linger, and don't bother the workers with questions. They are not permitted to talk during work hours. All questions in my office," comes from our guide as he hurries us along.

The inspection of the Armour slaughterhouses took place with such rapidity that we could use our notebooks only back in the office. Here, in the presence of the two trade union workers, who returned our cameras and took our white robes, the conversation continued.

"How many workers are there in the slaughterhouses?"

"Last summer there were 4,000. Now there are 2,800. Men and women work 8 or 9 hours per day."

"Where are the other 1,200 people?"

Ted Spear looks questioningly at the trade union workers. That question, evidently, is outside of his jurisdiction; he only represents management.

"They are looking for other work. It is very hard right now," somewhat unwillingly one of the trade union workers, a fellow about 32, forces himself to say. He lowers his gaze and nervously fingers his cigarette.

"What are they living on?"

"On unemployment aid."

"All of them?"

"Not all, of course. Only those who were able to earn $600 here before their dismissal, and who presented evidence that they have looked for work but couldn't find it in other places."

The fellow lights up another cigarette and takes a deep puff, as if giving to understand that the question has been settled.

"What is the vacation system for the workers?"

"If he has worked one year, he has a week off, if 3 years-2 weeks, 15 years-3 weeks, 25 years-4 weeks."

Ted Spear reels off these figures and asks immediately:

"Any more questions?"

"Are there differences in the levels of work pay?"

"There are. But we are trying to raise wages for men as well as for women. Anything more?"

"How high is the pay?"

"It varies. There are 24 different categories in the Armour slaughterhouses."

The conversation was obviously lagging. It seems we were rubbing salt in the sensitive areas of "free enterprise business."

"It's that way not only at Armour. It's the same in other companies" said the other worker, a man getting on in years who had previously said nothing.

A piercing glance from Spear forces him to stop in the middle of a sentence. Ted Spear looks impatiently at his watch. We were given exactly 49 minutes to become acquainted with the "largest meat business in the world."

"We are in San Francisco," exulted jolly Walter Clement. "It is the most beautiful city in the U.S.A.! Life here is like nothing anywhere in the world!"

A four days' stay in picturesque San Francisco was for us a real maelstrom. We tried to cut down the frenzied tempo, which interfered with our chance to make a thorough acquaintance with the life of America, but we were not often successful.

"Arrange it so they spend more time looking at pretty girls and cars," Mike Gutovski, a graduate student in the Economic Department of Berkeley University, advised our guides.

"I advise you not to accept the invitations of students I don't know. If you do, I can't be in any way responsible," declared Walter Clemens.

Only on the final day of our stay in San Francisco were we finally able to have some free time for ourselves and accept the invitation of a group of students to visit Stanford University without our guides.

In Stanford University the tuition is as high as in other private universities of the U.S.A.--more than 1000 dollars a year. There is no guarantee of getting a job after finishing the university.

Martin Horwitz, a student in the Sociology Department, told me about all this.

"Tell us, what percentage do the children of American workers and peasants comprise in Stanford University?" we asked two professors.

Both threw up their hands.

"We don't have such figures," one of them said.

But the future sociologist Martin Horwitz came up to us and said, "What worker or peasant could send his son to a private university?"

My traveling companions from Oakland to San Francisco were an older professor of psychology, lively and talkative, and two students who had graduated--David Egger and Ellen Maytag. We talked about Jack London, then turned to Ernest Hemingway, and the "lost generation" about which they were singing the praises.

"We now have a new generation that we call 'the beat generation,'" David Egger suddenly said. "They are young people, many of them students, who are loafing around, not working. They don't believe in anything. They have lost faith in the power of reason."

"And what is better about you, 'the silent ones?'" the psychology professor suddenly spoke out, addressing himself to the students. "When I was young I dreamed of earning a million, saving the world, writing the famous novel. And what are the dreams of the American student of today? They don't go further than the limits of a car in the garage and a job in the 'General Motors' Corporation."

"And what am I supposed to do about it?" objected David Egger. "If I don't think that way, who is going to look out for me? Go into politics? No, our politics are a dirty business. Of course, I ought now to really start thinking about a job. It I don't, who is going to feed me?"

"Not all of us dream only about that!" Ellen Maytag interrupted David. "Some people also think about how to keep the peace. If only they would tell us how to do it. They teach us things we already know... We can't trust our reporters, can't believe our radio and TV programs. They all distort the truth. Our professors are immortalizing falsehood. For 4 years the university administration stuffs us with lies. This is not only in Stanford."

One wonders how this conversation would have ended if fresh and smiling Walter Clemens had not appeared at that minute and announced that it was time to get ready for our flight to the state of South Carolina.

"Then," Walter Clemens told us in the airplane, "You will find out about the conditions of Negroes in the South of the U.S.A."

"Is that a southern state?" we asked him. "South Carolina is really a border state."

"On the contrary, it is typical," insisted Walter Clemens.

In this "border" state no matter where you go you will find signs around you "Only for whites" and "Only for colored." The schools and universities are "for whites" and "for colored." Even the signs on the doors of the toilets in a tobacco factory indicate where the white can go, and where the Negro can go.

"How on earth do you explain that?" we asked the students of the "white" University of Chapel Hill.

"Tradition," they answered in embarrassed fashion, and averting their eyes, added, "It's hard to fight against it. It has its roots deep in the slavery period."

"But where are the traditions of Jefferson?" we persisted.

"They are expressed in the Constitution," ironically answered Jerry Milton, a student of the Law School.

On one of our excursions around the picturesque outskirts of Durham I was accompanied by students of a Negro college, Willy Johnson, the son of a rich tradesman, and Jack Bowles, son of a larger farmer.

"When you get back to Russia, tell your friends that in the States there are Negoes who aren't complaining about their position. There are Negoes in the U. S. Senate," Willy Johnson told me.

"But how many?" Jack Bowles asked him maliciously. "One for 16 million? And in out state where more than a million Negroes are living, is there even one Negro in the city administration or in the Senate of South Carolina?"

"Yes, but..."

"What do you mean 'but?'" Jack Bowles continued the attack. "Maybe you are going to say that this happens only in the southern and "border" states? Or that this is only true of Negroes? Just remember what happened to the Korean-American, Sammy Lee. This athlete twice won gold medals for the U.S.A. in diving at the Olympic Games. The President himself sent him on a tour in the Far East. And why? So he would be an example of the absence of racial discrimination in America. And what happened to him when he came back? Because of the color of his skin they wouldn't permit him to buy a little house below Los Angeles. And he wasn't even a Negro!"

Willy Johnson said nothing.

"So tell your friends in Russia about Willy, and be sure to add that his opinion is restricted to only a few. Millions of our Negoes are unwilling to endure the shame of segregation," Jack Bowles told me.

"The question of the situation of our farmers has probably not been clarified for you," the obliging Walter Clemens told us. "The directors of the National Farmers Union in Washington will talk to you about this."

On the 8th floor of a large building where the directing organs of various firms and organizations are located, hung a small board with the inscription, "Legal Office of the National Farmers Union." At the entrance we were met by Richard Shipman, assistant for legal affairs, and Arthur Thompson, the editor of the Union's publications.

In the National Farmers Union there are 300,000 laboring peasant families. Every day they are forced to struggle to the death with large farmers who are lowering prices on the market.

"We are in a vicious circle," says Richard Shipman, throwing up his hands. "The farmers have no money, and to get a loan, the Government requires them to sow less-land. If they sow less land, there is nothing to sell! The only winners are the large plunderers."

"That is why the number of farm economies is declining," adds Arthur Thompson. "During the past year alone 1,800,000 farmers left the land."

"And what are they doing now?" we ask.

"The Union does not continue any connection with those who go to the city," sigh our hosts.

"What is the income of a farmer?"

"Very low. Half of what a city dweller can earn."

"You have only learned about the dark sides of life of American farmers," Walter Clemens observed morosely, "and learned nothing about the positive side."

"What positive sides are there to talk about, if a peasant is forced to leave the land," we wanted to know.

Walter Clemens had nothing to say.

"Well," he said, after 5 minutes, "now we go to the next press conference."

"They Visit Us"

"Where would you like to go today? You have available the Likhachev Automobile Plant, the Ball Bearing Plant, the Coke and Gas Plant, and the Red October Candy Factory."

"Oh, that is a fine program!" exclaim the American students and immediately start to divide up into groups.

In the group traveling to the candy factory there are girl students and Prof. Robert Bowers, a man advanced in years and with grey hair.

The chief technologist of Red October, Natalia Vasilievna Krechetova, introduces Valia Koroleva and Masha Safonova, workers of the chocolate and caramel workshops, to the guests.

"And we can take photographs?" timidly asks Sally Amster, a student of the Fine Arts Department of Cornell University.

Of course you can!" answer Valia and Masha in astonishment. "Do they really not permit you in your country to take photographs of enterprises which produce food products?"

Taking the covers from their cameras, the Americans hurriedly moved toward the exits from the reception hall.

"No, not like that!" Natalie Vasilievna stops them. "First you have to put on robes and caps."

In the caramel workshop the students look around.

"Would you like to talk with the workers?" Natalie Vasilievna proposes to the guests.

"Are all of your factories really like this one?" Sally Amster asks suspiciously.

"Not at all; we have even better ones!" laughs Natalia Vasilievna. "I have worked here more than 30 years. And during these years quite a few good candy factories have been built in our country."

The Americans scatter around the workshop. They spend a long time asking the workers about wages, vacation periods, children. Robert Bowers is busy with one thing: he is running from machine to machine to inspect the trade marks.

"Don't worry, all the lathes are ours," Masha tells him.

"Yes, yes," says the professor, who is somewhat taken aback by this.

Now he rushes over to the conveyor belt, and for some reason starts to poke around in the molten mass of caramel.

"Try one of our caramels," says Masha.

The professor takes the double handful of "Snowflake" caramels offered him by the girl and puts them in the pocket of his robe.

In the chocolate workshop. Again talks with the workers. Again Professor Bowers studies the trademarks of the lathes.

"Well, how do you like our chocolate?" Natalia Vasilievna asks the guests.

"Very tasty," says Bowers, chewing on a chocolate bar, "but it is more expensive than ours."

"Actually, I have tried your chocolate, too," Natalia Vasilievna objects with a smile. "It has a different composition and the nutritive value is lower."

"That, I can believe, is true," Mrs. Edna Baldwin, 58 year old teacher of the University of Michigan, says in support.

In the reception hall of the management the guests drink tea and shower Natalia Vasilievna with questions about the labor conditions and daily life of the plant's workers.

"Does the enterprise pay for the club, the kindergartens, and the nurseries?" they ask.

"Don't you fire pregnant women?" interrupts Robert Bowers.

The workers who are present break out in laughter, such a question sounds so weird to them.

"And what are the conditions of work for the women in the United States?" Valia Koroleva asks in her turn.

"Very few of our women work," Professor Bowers answers quickly. "They are busy with their household affairs."

Mrs. Baldwin, with a refined smile, hands the girl some color photographs. They show her family in a country house and a large automobile.

"And who is your husband? Is he from the workers or from the peasantry?" asks Masha Safonova.

"Oh no!" exclaims Mrs. Baldwin.

"Then why do you speak for all American women?" asks someone from among the Americans themselves.

The talk at the Red October factory lasted almost 3 hours, and ended only when all questions had been settled.

Two buses with 35 American guests arrived at the chief vestibule to the Lomonosov MGU. Some of our students had gathered in the hall.

"Why so few?" asks Kent Geiger, a professor of sociology of Harvard University, in a dissatisfied way.

"It is vacation time now," is his answer. "Visit us again in the fall or winter. Then, of course, there will be more students."

The students of all countries quickly find a common language. They are interested in curriculum programs, student organizations, scholarships.

'Who in America can study in the universities?" our students ask.

"Everybody!" says John Armstrong, a graduate student at Harvard University, without blinking an eye.

"For example, what percent in Harvard are from even middle level families?"

John thinks about this for a minute, and his colleagues clap their hands. This for them is an expression of approval for a well-put question.

"Johnny, I wanted to study in Harvard, too, but I couldn't" one of the members of the delegation flings at Armstrong.

"What is the tuition for study in the institutions of higher learning of the U.S.A.?"

"They vary," answers John Mudd, another Harvardian.

"It would be better to say what it is in Harvard!" again sounds the ironic voice of the same student.

"Twelve hundred dollars a year."

And John Mudd lapses into confused silence. Sociology professor Kent Geiger comes to the aid of his Harvard colleague. The sense of his explanation comes briefly to the following: "Harvard is Harvard."

Ted Alexander, a Negro student in the Geography Department of Columbia University, speaks up.

"I am a representative of Negro students, but, as you see, I can study