Revolution begins at home

October 6, 2008 | History, Housing, Russia, Speculation

In 1975, the officers and crew of Soviet destroyer Storozhevoy (Sentry) mutinied, under the leadership of their erstwhile Marxist political officer Valery Sablin, who steamed her out of Riga into the Baltic Sea with visions of recreating the 1921 Kronstadt rebellion, an idealistic uprising against what the sailors saw as the Bolshevik betrayal of revolutionary principles.

 

Storozhevoy_2

The inspiration for Red October

 

The uprising failed, of course – Soviet aircraft shot Storozhevoy dead in the water and it was towed back to Riga, where the mutineers were arrested, imprisoned, tried, and executed.  All in secret, and all forgotten, except for a Naval Institute researcher, who came upon the declassified reports, stirred them in his technologically active imagination, changed the ship to a submarine, and gave it a suspenseful plot and inspiring ending, which he published as The Hunt for Red October.

 

Red_october_neill

You mean I’m not entirely fictional?

 

All this I discovered while reading The Last Sentry, a 2005 book chronicling the actual events that included, of all things, an extended discussion of the Soviet housing system.  And that got me thinking …

Does revolution begin at home?

 

In other words, does a society that fails to provide quality housing sow the seeds of its own overthrow?

 

The_last_sentry_cover

 

Here are authors Gregory Young and Nate Braden describing Soviet housing (pages 63-68)

 

If there is one thing Russians can remember with crystal clar­ity, it is the housing they lived in and how long it took them to get it. Privacy was a scarce commodity in the Soviet Union, almost as scarce as decent housing. With the state involved in nearly every aspect of their lives, it is hardly surprising that a married couple with a child would do all they could to find a little place to call their own.

 

Blog readers know that along with several other University of Maryland adjunct faculty, I’ve participated in teaching Army housing staff about the Army’s Residential Communities Initiative (RCI) privatization of on-post military housing, and in that context I’ve visited roughly a dozen large posts around the country.  As they say in the US Army, “housing is a readiness issue.” 

 

Fort_meade_argonne_housing

It really is this nice: on-post military housing, Fort Meade, Maryland

 

Quality family housing is critical to good morale for the service member.  Especially when on long deployment, the service member needs to know that the family back home is well taken care of. 

 

Here’s the Soviet military housing, circa 1975:

 

Soviet_naval_infantrymen_2

What the Soviets wanted the world to see

 

Each naval conscript reported to a train­ing unit prior to joining his ship or shore station. When a conscript in the mid-1970s reported to a Northern Fleet training platoon, he found the buildings unheated in the winter, even though the tem­perature often fell to twenty below zero. His kazarma (barracks) slept close to a hundred men packed in two rows of three-tiered bunks. The beds were so close together that any infectious disease spread rapidly throughout the whole unit. Even sailors used to crowded conditions at home found life in the kazarma intolerable.

 

Soviet_family_housing

Soviet family housing, what remains of it

 

The latrines and washstands were outdoors, the former housed in a long shed with many holes in the floor. The mid-1970s conscript reported having to clean the latrines in the winter when urine had frozen to the floor and many of his drunken comrades had vomited there after a night on the town. 

 

I don’t know about you, but I’d find it dispiriting to make a midnight visit to a latrine whose floor was frozen urine and frozen vomit.

 

Red_army_barracks_abandoned_2

Red Army barracks, long abandoned

 

He held no fond memories of this experience, though he did report that conditions improved when he got to his shore-based technical unit.

 

Of all the Soviet domestic problems, the housing shortage re­mained one of the most persistent. The situation under the tsars was dismal, and early Soviet leadership did nothing to alter the housing shortfall. In fact, Stalin made it worse. He invested signif­icantly in heavy industry but failed to provide housing for the mil­lions of peasants who left the farms to work in the new factories. Soviet citizens lived in communal squalor, and it was commonplace for several families to crowd into a single apartment. In 1950, it was estimated that each person had less than fifteen square feet of living space.

 

Among my rules-of-thumb-in-process is this: average home square feet per person is a great indicator of overall national wealth. I’ve written elsewhere about the evolving modern home – houses today are roughly twice as large as those of our grandparents fifty years ago.

 

Evidently the reformers of Khrushchev’s generation thought housing important, since after violently suppressing the 1956 Hungarian rebellion, they embarked on a massive building program:

 

Budapest_1956

Budapest, 1956

 

Hungary_stalin_1956

A wakeup call for the Soviet system: Hungary 1956

 

After 1957, Stalin’s successors built 2.2 million housing units per year. The results of this achievement were visible in every city. By 1982, per capita living space had increased to twenty-seven square feet. 

 

Still painfully small: that’s a family of four in a room ten by ten, a living standard worse than one finds today in slums like Dharavi.

 

This improvement, however, only dramatized the shortfall for the millions still waiting for their own apartment. The tremendous quantity of construction did not keep pace with rising expectations. Soviet citizens continued to suffer the poorest housing conditions of any industrialized nation, and in the late 1980s an esti­mated 20% of all urban dwellers still lived communally. The waiting period for an apartment was indefinite; it could take any­where from a decade to a lifetime if you lacked connections.

 

Scarcity breeds favoritism and invites corruption … and everyone in the system knows it.

 

Overcrowding also breeds resentment:

 

The Soviet authorities appeared to make no better effort to improve housing for service families, either in quantity or quality, particularly in such inhospitable areas as Polyarniy in the Arctic and Vladivostok in the Far East. Viktor Belenko, who would defect to Japan in his MiG-25 fighter only ten months after the Storozhevoy mutiny, was stationed at an airbase in the maritime provinces of the Russian Far East. Just prior to his defection, he and his wife shared a two-room apartment with another officer’s family. They considered themselves lucky; other apartments were packed with three or even four families.

 

Mig-25

The price of substandard housing?  A MiG 25 Foxbat

 

These conditions are so reminiscent of Winston Smith’s Victory mansions in 1984 that I think Orwell must have been imagining them when he was writing it.  Orwell understood that you are what you live in; destroy the home and you destroy the will. 

 

Most dependent housing was built by Soviet naval construction personnel and was extremely poor in quality. Letters in the “Letters to the Editor” section in Krasnaya Zvezda often complained of leaking roofs, poor insulation, use of inferior quality building materials, the absence of bathing or laundry facilities, and inadequate ventila­tion, water, and electrical systems. Often these shortcomings were only remedied by subbotniki, the supposedly volunteer weekend work details made up of military personnel. More often than not, service­men’s complaints elicited no response at all from housing authorities. 

 

A government indifferent to its citizens’ demands loses all claim to those citizens’ support.  I’ve written elsewhere about the importance of validating slum-dwellers through things as simple as delivery of mail, which turn them from interlopers into actual consumers of government services – and hence citizens who have a right to demand more from their government.

 

It seems that the military hierarchy was aware of these prob­lems and acknowledged them, but according to Belenko and others, it did not give them the priority they deserved. In Krasnaya Zvezda in 1974, Rear Admiral Sidorchuk (chief of the fleet rear services) dis­cussed the housing situation for naval personnel in the Pacific Fleet in fairly frank terms:

 

“The party and the government are showing consistent concern with regard to improving the housing and living conditions for service families…. In the Pacific Fleet in the last three years alone, thousands of families have received new living quarters. There is a problem of maintenance, however. In isolated far-off garrisons there is often a lack of trained maintenance spe­cialists… In some areas housing maintenance committees exist solely on paper and actually do nothing. This has resulted in prob­lems which can affect the serviceman in the performance of his reg­ular duties.”

 

Housing is a readiness issue, not just in military families, but in any kind of worker families.

 

Housing for servicemen in other areas of the Soviet Union was better but not without problems. Members of the military, particu­larly officers, were given priority on the list to receive new housing in urban areas where a shortage existed. When he reported to a new duty station in the western Soviet Union, Viktor Belenko [The Mig defector mentioned above – Ed.] expressed his excitement over getting a new apartment in a building only one month old.

 

“To be promised an apartment was one thing, but to be given an apartment as promised, quite another. Eagerly and expectantly, I unlocked the door and smelled dampness. The floor, built with green lumber, already was warped and wavy. Plaster was peeling off the walls. The windowpane in the kitchen was broken and no water poured from the faucet. The bathtub leaked; the toilet did not flush. None of the electrical outlets worked…. Another lieu­tenant and I confronted the first party representative we could find, a young political officer in the same building. He was cynical yet truthful. The building had not been inspected as they had been told. The military builders sold substantial quantities of allotted materials on the black market, then bribed the chairman of the acceptance commission and took the whole commission to dinner. There the acceptance papers were drunkenly signed without any commission member ever having been inside the building.”

 

Soviet_housing_gabar_2

All apartments certified in tip-top condition

 

The authors suggest that the Soviet government’s failure to deliver quality housing likewise influenced Valery Sablin by confronting him with a Soviet reality grossly at odds with Soviet rhetoric:

 

Valery Sablin was a graduate of the most prestigious naval acad­emy and a promising junior officer on a front line Soviet warship, yet the litany of his housing problems must be more than indicative of what tribulations all crewmembers of Storozhevoy faced with their families.

 

A room of one’s own became possible only when married – and often, not even then.

 

Soviet_housing_2

How many households per room?  Soviet-era housing

 

After they were married, Nina met Valery’s family and the cou­ple spent a month with them in Gorky before Valery reported to his first duty station in Severomorsk in 1961. They were not given an apartment, but they added their names to the never-ending waiting list for one. Moving up the list was more a function of military or party connections than time spent waiting. Valery’s father still had many connections around the navy, despite being retired for a num­ber of years, and he was able to find a place for them to rent. For the beginning of their married life, they shared a one-room apartment with another woman, three of them in only 150 square feet.

 

That’s a newly married couple, you understand.  I presume they developed the equivalent signal of a sock on the doorknob.

 

Sock_on_doorknob

Maybe something a little more obvious

 

A month later, they moved up:

 

After one month, they moved to the one-room apartment of an officer who lived upstairs but was deployed at sea. Eventually, they got one room in a barracks-like building for navy families. They shared a kitchen with two other families, had no hot water, and despite the presence of a wood-burning stove, they were always cold.  The tin roofed building was, according to Nina, not insulated at all against the Arctic winds of Severomorsk.

 

When we look at the fashions of yesterday, we have to remember that people were always cold, clothing was expensive (so one suit had to do for several uses), and indoor plumbing was a luxury.

 

Edo_period_chamber_pot_1

Before 1850, every home had many of these

 

When Nina went home to Leningrad to give birth to Misha in 1962, Valery gave up their apartment and moved aboard his ship, at least in part to help other families waiting for housing.

 

Lack of housing creates family separation, which damages families.

 

Brezhnev

Leonid Brezhnev, who ordered the Storozhevoy disabled or sunk

 

When his ship moved to Sevastopol on the Black Sea in 1963, the young cou­ple again only found housing through connections of Valery’s father. They were able to temporarily share a three-room apartment with another couple while they searched for their own place. Ultimately they found a two-room apartment with water and a bathroom out­side, but no gas. Nina cooked on a kerosene stove.

 

Their never-ending housing problems continued when Sablin’s ship returned to the Northern Fleet. Valery went ahead to find accommodations, while Nina and Misha waited with her family in Leningrad. From 1966 to 1968, they found a good apartment, with hot water for the first time, but still shared a kitchen with two other families. In 1968, they moved into their first apartment with their own kitchen and bathroom. 

 

Seven years in the Navy, and multiple promotions, yet still living in what we would call squalor.

 

Even in the big city of Moscow, Valery and Nina started out in a one-room place of only twelve square meters (120 square feet). They moved again, and for the rest of their time in Moscow, they lived in an apartment of eighteen square meters (160 square feet). When Valery reported aboard Storozhevoy after living in Kaliningrad for three months in a hotel and another six in a small room of a commu­nal house, his family finally got a three-room apartment in a Khrushchev building (Russians refer to the large apartment blocks by the name of whoever was in power during their construction).

 

Fourteen years in the military

 

Khrushchev

“We will bury you.”

 

Their good fortune was only a result of Valery’s promotion to third rank captain and the relative abundance of housing in Kaliningrad.

 

Did The Hunt for Red October begin in dingy Soviet flats?

 

Hunt_red_october_screen

“When he reached the New World, Cortez burned his ships..  As a result, his men were well motivated.”

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