Moscow, February.
(From our special correspondent).

"Facing the village" is the watchword, the motto of the moment. The peasant question is now placed at the center of Soviet concerns. It was the main subject of a special conference held at the beginning of January. It was also the motive and theme of the first federal congress of teachers which sat at the Grand Theatre for a fortnight, and before which the main figures of the government spoke at great length. The peasant question fills the columns of the newspapers; it is discussed, explored, turned over in all directions, with that subtlety of arguments and that verbal complexity that the Russians have inherited from Byzantium.
To measure its full extent, let us recall the figures: the urban population in Russia forms only 12% of the total population. In other words, of the 130 million inhabitants of the Soviet Union, there are about 112 million peasants against 18 million city dwellers.
The disproportion is eloquent. However, it was hardly noticeable in the early days of the revolution. The peasants were at that time almost all soldiers. Tired of the war, discouraged by defeat, they asked only to flee the front to take possession of the land, which had been their great desire for generations.

It was thanks to these circumstances that the dictatorship of the Communist Party, supported by the urban proletariat, was able to establish itself with relative ease. The whole period of "war communism", from 1917 to 1920, bore the mark of the predominance of the workers. But, as soon as the civil war ended, the numerical and economic power of the peasant element began to make itself clearly felt. Lenin then imagined a new formula for Bolshevism: dictatorship of the Communist Party on the dual basis of workers and peasants.

The peasant grows…

Since then, the peasant has not stopped growing. Although only usufructuary of the land, which remains collective property, he has become accustomed to considering it as his own. Of course, he only holds it on lease for nine years, but he hopes that these nine years will be renewed and will last forever. Freedom having been restored to trade by the N.E.P. (New Economic Policy), the moujik has started working again, producing, no longer only for the strict needs of the family, as in the days of requisitions and taxes in kind, but for sale, for the market, for the cities. Thus, little by little, the peasant has become again the regulator of Russian economic life. And the harvest, good or bad, is now, as before, the big X which determines each year the budgetary situation of the State.

This recovery of agriculture is a fact. It is even a capital fact in this essentially agricultural country. The area of ​​sown land, which in 1922 represented only 54% of that of 1913, now reaches 84% ​​compared to the pre-war period. (With the reservation that the cultivation being less careful today, the increase in harvests is not as rapid.) These figures, from an absolute point of view, are not brilliant; however, they indicate a rapid return of agriculture to normal.
But he is not happy

But the moujik, author of this well-being, is not happy. He finds that in the "Republic of workers and peasants", the workers count too much and the peasants hardly at all. He looks with envy at the city dweller advantaged at his expense and dares to show himself jealous of so many privileges. To tell the truth, after seven years of proletarian dictatorship, the peasant has come to see in the "comrade worker" a sort of aristocrat who neglects or disdains him. And he only reluctantly submits to this new despotism.
In addition to these reasons for political discontent, there are other, even more serious ones, which are of an economic nature. In exchange for the wheat he supplies to the city, the peasant would like to acquire an equivalent quantity of fabrics, tools, and manufactured objects. But he has to give a lot to get very little. Whereas in 1922 he bought about 3 meters (exactly 11.7 arshins) of cotton cloth for 16 kilos (one pood) of rye flour; today, for the same weight of flour, he will receive only 2 meters (exactly 2.9 arshins) of cloth. In other words, compared to 1922, the purchasing power of the peasant is, at present, reduced by 75%. As we can see, the gap is enormous. The disproportion of prices weighs heavily on the countryside. It is attributable to the fact that industry is only very distantly following the upward movement of agriculture. In any case, the peasant suffers cruelly and, having become less docile, does not hesitate to say so.

The Communist leaders understand that it would be futile to ignore these murmurs and imprudent to ignore this situation. For we are dealing with one hundred and twelve million people, the overwhelming majority of the Russian people. Now, although we may profess the theory that power belongs by right to the "active minority", it is very difficult not to take into account the essential needs of such a majority. With these one hundred and twelve million people the time has come to compromise. The Communist power, willingly or unwillingly, has had to tackle this heavy task.

A program by Zinovieff

In a recently published article, Zinovieff defines this new orientation in the following terms: "The motto facing the village is not only a motto for good and for a long time, but one could even say forever, that is to say until the moment when socialism has completely won over us." And here is how the same Zinovieff, who is considered somewhat experienced in communist tactics, defines the means of this policy: 1° lowering of prices, at all costs, on industrial products of the cities; 2° measures aimed at ensuring greater economic stability for each peasant; 3° reduction of rural taxes; 4° extension of credits to agriculture; 5° creation of good village schools; 6° development of communist cells and propaganda in the countryside, etc. "It is in the light of these problems," Zinovieff writes in conclusion, "that we must prepare the third federal congress of Soviets, which is to be held soon.

Such a program is surprising coming from the pen of a communist leader, because if the intention to bolshevize the village is obvious, the means proposed are, more or less, those that any government anxious to ensure the support of the countryside would suggest. What Kalenin says about it

I wanted to have confirmation of this from the man who is considered the "friend of the peasants," from Mr. Kalenin himself, chairman of the Central Executive Committee, that is, head of state. Mr. Kalenin was born in the village; he spent all his youth there and, even today, he often returns to his wooden house in Verkhniaïa-Troïtza, in the province of Tver. He also worked for about fifteen years as a metalworker. In his antechamber, there is a continual procession of moujiks sent to present to him the grievances and wishes of the countryside. I have difficulty making my way through these men with broad faces, bearded, long hair, who come to visit the President of the Soviets in sheepskins and felt boots... Mr. Kalenin talks willingly. One does not feel in him that ever-awake distrust which makes conversation with certain Bolsheviks so painful. I ask him why the "junction with the village" is more than ever on the agenda? It is because we have now understood, Mr. Kalenine tells me, the full correctness of Lenin's views on the peasant question. In rereading his works, we realize today what an enormous place this problem occupied in his thoughts. We strive to follow his precepts. We want to develop the well-being of the peasant, to ensure our close connection with the countryside by satisfying their economic and cultural needs. Moreover, the peasant is maturing rapidly from a political point of view. A government which would neglect these needs could well run to its ruin. Sharing power with the peasants is the task of the moment. Between the two masses of our population, workers and peasants, it is a question of finding the exact diagonal. This is the very point of Leninist policy.

Mr. Kalenin paces back and forth behind his desk. He speaks Russian, emphasizing his o's in the village manner. From time to time, through his thick glasses, he fixes me with his unmalicious eyes and, yielding to the habit acquired in frequenting simple people, asks me good-naturedly: "Do you understand?" I myself, he continues, belong to the group of those who do not see any insurmountable obstacles to the accomplishment of this task. It seems to me that the sharing of power with the peasants, as their well-being increases, will become easier and easier...

That is the whole question, I said to myself as I left the President of the Soviet Republics. If the peasant becomes richer, if he gains in comfort and power, will he still have to endure a communist government? And will there not come a time when the five hundred thousand Bolsheviks will not weigh very heavily against the one hundred and twelve million moujiks? -

Lucien Bourguès.