Your Salient reporters went to the Concert Chamber of the Wellington Town Hall on the evening of February 16 to hear Professor H. Winston Rhodes, Associate Professor of English at Canterbury College, speak on his recent trip to Europe, especially his weeks in the Soviet Union. Mr. James Bertram, Lecturer in English at V.U.C., was in the chair, and the meeting, (sponsored jointly by the Peace Council, the Society for Closer Relations with the U.S.S.R., the Women's Union, the Progressive Youth League and the Student Labour Federation), was a crowded one.

Professor Rhodes is a man who makes an immediate impression. He is quietly-spoken and unaffected, and speaks with conviction.

"Pace! Pace! Peace! It was chalked everywhere on the walls in the cities and villages of Italy. It is peace that the people of Europe feel need of most." It was because of this urgent need that Professor Rhodes wanted to let people know what he had seen in the country which had been dubbed our potential enemy.

Prof. Rhodes was on leave in 1950, studying the relationship between writers and society in different European countries. When he wished to enter the U.S.S.R., he found that the iron curtain had two sides. The British Government refused to allow anyone more than £50 for continental travel. Accordingly the Professor and his wife obtained an invitation from the Soviet Society for Cultural Relations with Foreign Countries, then applied for a visa. The non-co-operation of the British military authorities led the couple to make a shot at crossing the Czech frontier without a military permit—and they crossed without any questions asked.

First Impressions

His first impressions of the Soviet Union contrasted with what he had seen elsewhere. He described poverty and the brutality of the militiamen in Italy, the freedom of unrepentent Nazis in Vienna. Then he took us to Brest Litovsk—not a militiaman in sight, but cleanliness, happiness.

Here, too, there were contrasts: he saw, almost facing each other across the street, a crucifix on a church wall, and a statue of Stalin on a government building.

Food and clothing were abundant. He saw the tremendous extent of reconstruction of the havoc wrought by Hitler's vandals. After giving us a picture of Stalingrad, population 1 million, razed to the ground five years ago, and now almost entirely rebuilt, the Professor said: "These people cannot possibly want war." He thought that, difficulties resultant from the last war included, the Russian standard of living was high.

Culture and Information

The people are interested in literature, music, theater and every other form of art. The Soviet writer is a member of the community in a sense in which the Western writer is not. His books are read and discussed with him by groups of workers and farmers all over the country. It is from these discussions that flow the criticisms and final summing-ups—either critical or otherwise—that appear in Pravda, and from which our newspapers concoct stories of "interference with the freedom of artists." Can you imagine T. S. Eliot going down to read his poems on the London docks?

The Soviet Union, like every European country, has a tradition of military conscription. It is a vast land-mass, with territorial borders. But there is no war hysteria, no hatred for any other nation, and an enthusiasm for the best in all human culture from every nation in the world. And Soviet spokesmen had countless times proposed disarmament, when other nations spurned it.

Yes, the Russians knew about New Zealand. They asked about the Maoris, about their literature and art, about their organisations, their political organisation. They asked about New Zealand farming methods.

They knew everything their representatives said at UNO, and everything every other representative said. They were bitter about the policies of the U.S. State Department, but distinguished them from the feelings of the American people. "They are a well-informed people. That is a necessary prerequisite for a democracy."

"The Russian education system," said the Prof., "is filled with the inevitable Russian 'criticism and self-criticism'." There can be no "mass mind" manufactured in schools where children have to prepare, defend and attack theses on different subjects from an early age.

The Stockholm Appeal to ban the A.-bomb had been fully discussed in the U.S.S.R., as all important questions were, by popular organisations—unions, co-operatives, culture groups—and the appeal had been signed by almost everyone. A government which encourages people to sign this Appeal for peace is acting strangely if it really wants war.

Interview

We had a list of questions for the Professor, but question-time was not long enough. We approached him timidly after the meeting, but were fobbed off by his Wellington host, and asked to call the folowing day at 5 p.m.

Here we found the Prof. with his wife and young son, being buttonholed by innumberable people. He shook hands with us warmly, leaned back against the book-case, lit his pipe and looked at us under his eyebrows, waiting for the questions.

"What is the position of Marxism in Soviet education and life generally?" Well, they have special study-schools in Marxism, separate from the general education system. Naturally in philosophy, in literary criticism, a Marxist point of view is the orthodox one over there—but you would be surprised how many opposing views can claim to be Marxist! Membership of the Communist Party is regarded as a high honour. All citizens, Party members or not, share the rights and duties of government.

"Are strikes possible?" Certainly, by law, I can't envisage a case where one would actually take place. You see the unions—democratic as here (or more so) have a tremendous say in management. There is no employer-employee relationship.

"Are the Soviet people awake to the dangers of bureaucracy?" On course. Every political question and every other sort of question, is thrashed out in meetings of the people all over the Union. There is a multiform democracy, a close control of the people over their representatives.

"What about adulation of Stalin?" I discussed that with several Russians, They certainly don't regard Stalin as a god. He is, as one Russian remarked, a "perfect chairman of committees,"—his quick, shrewd brain can sum up a discussion even where he is unfamiliar with the topic. Once, for example, at a meeting of writers he defined their role in his sentence: "The writer is the engineer of the human soul."

Also, Stalin has been with the people right through since before the Revolution, guiding them in the building of Socialism, in putting of first things first. There is a certain symbolism in his name.

"Come on, Dad, the car's waiting to take us to the ferry." Yes it was nearly half-past seven. We said goodbye to Professor Rhodes, making him promise to give Salient some written thoughts later. We hope we meet him again, and that more Victoria students will do the same.