I found this travelogue of Danish author Hans Scherfig’s 1950 trip to the USSR. I think it will be of interest to people here so I have translated it. The illustrations are by Scherfig himself.

In chapter 3 Scherfig describes the progressive principles of socialist pedagogy common in the USSR and describes a comprehensive, humane and non-adversarial educational system. He goes on to tell about the expansive system of maternity support and childcare. Scherfig’s support for the Soviet ban on abortion seems antiquated today and would have benefited from a more developed understanding of intersectionality. Scherfig goes on to tell about the USSR’s numerous cultural offerings for children.

Travels in the Soviet Union

Table of Contents

Chapter 3

The mutual goodwill among people in the Soviet Union was especially evident in their attitude toward children. We were in a land where children are neither a burden nor an affliction.

We visited several schools, kindergartens, and other children’s institutions in both Moscow and Kiev, and spoke to many children, teachers, and parents. The delegation’s two pedagogues (neither of them Communists) had the right sort of curiosity and knew what questions to ask, and once again there was reason to commend Assistant Professor Stahl for his language skills. There is no sensible reason to believe that everything we saw and heard had been arranged and staged especially for us. Moreover, there exists an extensive literature on children, mothers, and social welfare in the Soviet Union which, together with the official laws, decrees, and statistics, is available to anyone. I shall not quote from it here. In the unlikely event that a Danish journalist should wish to obtain authentic information on these conditions for himself and his readers, he can find it in any library; he need not cross the Channel, or the Atlantic, to fetch water.

Much has been written about the uniforming and levelling of children in the Soviet Union, and a stupid comparison between the dressage of the Hitler Youth and socialist upbringing has often been served up by ignorant Danish journalists. We observed that there is some truth to the uniforming charge, in that the schoolgirls in most places wore identical white aprons. We also saw, in one place, children wearing a sort of school smock reminiscent of French children’s. Members of the Pioneer organization sometimes wore blouses and neckerchiefs resembling those of Danish scouts; membership in this scouting organization is naturally a voluntary matter. In films I have furthermore seen young officer cadets in uniform; these were pupils from the so-called Suvorov schools, a kind of cadet school under the Ministry of Defence, training sons of soldiers in the Red Army and sons of parents killed by the Germans; these schools provide general schooling alongside officer training. Proper school uniforms, such as are found at Danish boarding schools like Herlufsholm and Sorø, do not occur in the Soviet Union, and the peculiar uniforms mandatory at Eton and other English boarding schools for the education of imperial supermen are naturally unthinkable in a classless society.

In A. S. Makarenko’s[1] small pamphlet from 1939, in which he has collected some radio lectures for parents — incidentally the only one of Makarenko’s writings known in Scandinavia — one is taken aback by the frequent occurrence of the words discipline and authority. It emerges from the text, however — and it emerged even more clearly from the practice which we had occasion to study — that by discipline Makarenko does not mean anything in the nature of obedience and regimentation, but rather a kind of socialist morality, a consideration for the whole and the community. A generation of socialism has made the feeling of community natural and self-evident for the people of the Soviet Union. The distinctive atmosphere or mood among people in the Soviet Union can, to my mind, best be compared to the spirit that prevailed for a time within the Danish resistance movement. That feeling of community you recall from the days of the people’s strike[2] is, in the Soviet Union, something permanent. For many Danes who joined the resistance movement, life suddenly had a meaning. After the war, life seemed to them once again aimless and without prospect; the deep disappointment that characterises post-war Denmark is attributable not only to political developments, but also to the loss of that sense of community and meaning in life which they had briefly experienced. In the Soviet Union, existence always has a meaning, even in peacetime. In a classless society, the individual feels his own significance, and people possess a natural dignity. In a society without fear of tomorrow, the nervous phenomena that are a permanent problem for the inhabitants of the Western world disappear.

One must understand this atmosphere in order not to be alarmed by words which, in a Soviet writer’s usage, carry a different content than they do for us. As for Makarenko’s treatment of authority, he incidentally cites half a dozen examples of bad and harmful parental authority and family egoism, and defines the only acceptable form of authority as something that emerges from example, from the sense of responsibility that operates within a community. In a neurotic society such as ours, opposition may be an end in itself, a psychological process of liberation possessing value for the individual. But in a classless society, working people have no reasonable cause to revolt against the results of their own revolution. Criticism is welcome and desirable, since there will always be something to correct and improve; yet opposition for opposition’s sake, opposition as an end in itself, must seem incomprehensible to the Soviet citizen.

There are among us rambunctious intellectuals for whom aggression itself is felt to be a necessary human right, regardless of which direction the aggression takes. These people readily join the conservative parties on the grounds that the communists are not communist enough for them; they express admiration for the Russian Revolution of 1917, yet lament that the victors of the revolution do not continue to revolt against themselves.

In the Soviet schools we visited, the students were not at war with the teachers. The teachers were not enemies to be insulted, nor did they hate children. The atmosphere was unlike that of the schools in my home country. Our questions about discipline and the upholding of order appeared superfluous. Children and teachers alike appeared bewildered when we asked. Punishment as a necessary element of education was unknown.

“But surely it can happen that a student continues to disrupt class?” asked Assistant Professor Stahl. “What do you do in such cases?” The answer was that they talked things over. In special cases the problem could be presented at the weekly meeting between students and teachers. The school is a collective, where the combined result is more important than individual performances; the most able students help the less able. No normal child will consciously sabotage the community, and for sick children there are special schools. Great importance is put on cooperation with the parents, and parents and teachers have regular gatherings. Sometimes they even hold parenting courses.

Article 121 of the Soviet conditions says: “Citizens of the U.S.S.R. have the right to education. This right is ensured by universal, compulsory elementary education; by education, including higher education, being free of charge; by the system of state stipends for the overwhelming majority of students in the universities and colleges; by instruction in schools being conducted in the native language,” (there are 183 nationalities in the union) “and by the organization of free vocational, technical and agronomic training for the working people.”

Morning in the Red Square, Moscow 1950

And in the subsequent article (122) it says: “Women in the U.S.S.R. are accorded equal rights with men in all spheres of economic, state, cultural, social and political life. The possibility of exercising these rights is ensured to women by granting them an equal right with men to work, payment for work, rest and leisure, social insurance and education, and by state protection of the interests of mother and child, pre-maternity and maternity leave with full pay, and the provision of a wide network of maternity homes, nurseries and kindergartens.”

A pregnant woman is entitled to lighter work (at the same pay); she has five weeks’ leave before and six weeks’ leave after childbirth, and receives wages during this time. A woman giving birth is entitled to free clinical care; she receives financial assistance for clothing, food, children’s equipment and milk; families with many children are awarded a lump-sum cash grant as well as a monthly allowance starting from the third child. Unmarried mothers, however, receive this allowance from the first child. At the nurseries (there are 800,000 nurseries in the Union) the child may be placed for ten hours daily until it is three years old; when the mother is ill or on holiday, the child may remain at the nursery at all hours. Children from three to seven years may be placed in the kindergartens (there are 60,000 kindergartens) attached to factories, offices and collective farms, and under the control of the Ministry of Education. Here children may normally be placed for nine hours; for unmarried mothers, at all hours. In addition, there are a great many other children’s institutions, children’s homes, maternity homes, etc.

In the decrees which form the basis of the law on assistance to mothers and children (the decrees of 27 June 1936 and 8 July 1944), abortion is prohibited except when necessitated by considerations of the mother’s life or health, or by the risk of hereditary disease.

In a country where social provisions are so arranged that a child can never become a burden, the prohibition of abortion does not seem unreasonable. I am aware, however, that this provision has aroused displeasure among Danish intellectuals, who regard abortion as a good in itself and feel compelled to distance themselves from a state where this good cannot be enjoyed to a sufficient extent. That the communists in Denmark, where conditions are admittedly different, advocate access to abortion is designated as inconsistent, since you can hardly speak of orders from Moscow in this case.

In the Soviet Union, children are welcome; they are looked upon with happy eyes. People treat them with the kind patience that comes naturally to those free from neurosis. Depth psychology does not hold the same interest as in the West; the need for psychoanalysis is not as great as in the USA, which seems a nation of patients. The Soviet Union is a land built for children, a curiously innocent country full of toys and amusing, unnecessary things. When Russian children must go without Western comic books with the Phantom, Superman, and those fascinating gangster girls it will no doubt be seen by Denmark’s watchful intellectuals as an intolerable manifestation of censorship. In return, the Soviet Union has children’s theatres, children’s cinemas, and special children’s parks. Moscow’s Children’s Theatre opened back in 1918; it employs 315 adults, actors, orchestra, dramaturges, composers, painters, and the like, and stages two performances daily: plays for children aged seven to fifteen, written by the finest authors. In addition to the Children’s Theatre, Moscow has “The Theatre of Young Spectators” and marionette theatres. Connected to one puppet theatre is a museum of puppets containing theatrical dolls from across the globe: Javanese shadow puppets, Italian, French, and English marionettes, Indian, Uzbek, Chinese, Japanese, Persian, Burmese, and Mongolian puppets.

The small children’s railways, which are found in many places in the Soviet Union, are the most delightful thing one can imagine. Real steam locomotives, carriages with electric lights and automatic brakes and room for 30 small passengers, station buildings with waiting rooms and classrooms and cinemas, technical children’s libraries, forges and rolling-stock depots. The whole affair falls under the Ministry of Transport. We saw such a railway in Stalingrad, which conveyed the children from the city to their own culture park. The engine drivers, train guards, conductors, ticket sellers and shunting workers were all children. The senior officials were children as well. They could afford that in ruined Stalingrad.

Nowhere does one find such lovely toys as in Russia. The toy industry is founded upon an age-old tradition, and the old national playthings are still popular, the turned wooden women, the Matryoshkas, which are hollow and can be taken apart and contain another little woman inside themselves, which again contains a woman, which again contains a woman, the very last as small as a grape pip; or Vanka-Vstanka, the Russian tumbler, who always stands upright however one places him. Each region has its specialties: movable wooden figures, animals and people of fired clay, and so forth. They have the prettiest dolls in the world, with very expressive faces, all manner of animals, and of course mechanical toys, especially small agricultural machines of every kind. Only tin soldiers could we not find. In all the large department stores there are separate toy departments where the children themselves can shop. There exists a special research institute for toys, from which models are issued to factories throughout the Union. In the town of Zagorsk, some fifty kilometres from Moscow, there is a famous toy museum. I was told that in the Russian Republic alone toys are produced to the value of more than 300 million rubles annually. There is time for that in a country which, according to what the newspapers and radio tell us, is preparing for war.

When John Steinbeck went to the Soviet Union a few years ago, he spoke to a farmer in Ukraine. The man had just moved into his new house, which had been rebuilt after the destruction of the war, and his children were now experiencing for the first time what it was like to live in a house. This Ukrainian farmer asked Steinbeck: “Do you think there is anyone in the world who could be so evil that they would send our children back to the dugouts? That is where they lived during the war. Can anyone be so evil?” Steinbeck had no answer.

Original Danish text

Rejse i Sovjetunionen

III.

Den indbyrdes venlighed mellem mennesker Sovjetunionen kunne særlig tydeligt iagttages i forholdet til børnene. Vi var i et land, hvor børn ikke er en byrde og en hjemsøgelse.

Vi besøgte flere skoler, børnehaver og andre børne-institutioner både i Moskva og Kijev og udspurgte mange børn og lærere og forældre. Delegationens to pædagoger (som ikke er kommunister) havde den rette nysgerrighed og forstod at spørge, og der var atter lejlighed til at prise adjunkt Stahl for hans sprogkundskaber. Der er vel ingen grund til at tro, at alt hvad vi så og hørte, skulle være arrangeret og iseenesat specielt for os. Der foreligger forøvrigt en vidtløftig litteratur om børn og mødre og socialforsorg i Sovjetunionen, som tilligemed de officielle love og forordninger og statistikker er tilgængelige for enhver. Her skal ikke citeres. Hvis det usædvanlige skulle ske, at en dansk journalist nærede ønske om at skaffe sig og sine læsere autentiske oplysninger om disse forhold, kan han få dem på ethvert bibliotek; han behøver ikke at gå over Kanalen, eller Atlanterhavet, for at hente vand.

Man har læst en hel del om uniformering og ensretning af børnene i Sovjetunionen, og en stupid sammenligning mellem Hitler-ungdommens dressur og den socialistiske opdragelse er ofte foretaget af uvidende danske journalister. Vi konstaterede, at der er det rigtige om uniformeringen, at skole-pigerne de fleste steder havde ensartede hvide forklæder. Vi så også et sted børn med en slags skole-kitler, der mindede om de franske børns. Medlemmer af pioner-sammenslutningen havde sommetider bluser og tørklæder, der ligner de danske spejderes; medlemsskab af denne spejderorganisation er naturligvis en frivillig sag. På film har jeg desuden set unge officersaspiranter, som var uniformerede, det var elever fra de såkaldte Suvorov-skoler, en slags kadet-skoler, som hører under forsvarsministeriet og uddanner sønner af soldater i den røde arme og sønner af forældre, der blev dræbt af tyskerne; disse skoler giver ved siden af officersuddannelsen den almindelige skoleuddannelse. Egentlige skole-uniformer, som de findes på danske kostskoler som Herlufsholm og Sorø, forekommer ikke i Sovjetunionen, og de særprægede uniformer, som er obligatoriske på Eton og andre engelske kostskoler til uddanelse af imperiale overmennesker, kan naturligvis ikke tænkes i et klasseløst samfund.

I A. S. Makarenkos lille skrift fra 1939, hvor han har samlet nogle radio-foredrag til forældre — forøvrigt det eneste af Makarenkos skrifter, som et kendt i Skandinavien — forskrækkes man over den hyppige forekomst af ordene disciplin og autoritet. Det fremgår imidlertid af teksten — og det fremgik endnu tydeligere af den praksis, som vi havde lejlighed til at studere — at Makarenko med disciplin ikke tænker på noget i retning af lydighed og dressur, men på en slags socialistisk moral, en hensyntagen til helheden og fællesskabet. En menneskealders socialisme har gjort følelsen af fællesskab til noget naturligt og selvfølgeligt for folk i Sovjetunionen. Den særlige atmosfære eller stemning mellem mennesker i Sovjetunionen kan efter min mening bedst sammenlignes med den ånd, som eksisterede inden for modstands bevægelsen i Danmark i en periode. Den følelse af fællesskab, som man husker fra folkestrejke-dagene, er i Sovjetunionen noget permanent. For en mængde danske, som tilsluttede sig modstandsbevægelsen, fik tilværelsen pludselig en mening. Efter krigen forekommer livet dem igen formålsløst og fremtidsløst, den dybe skuffelse, som præger efterkrigstiden i Danmark, skyldes ikke alene den politiske udvikling, men har også sin årsag i savnet af den fællesskabsfølelse og den mening med livet, som man en kort tid havde fornemmet. I Sovjetunionen har tilværelsen altid en mening, også i fredstid. I et samfund uden klasser føler den enkelte sin egen betydning, og mennesker har en naturlig værdighed. I et samfund uden angst for morgendagen forsvinder de nervøse fænomener, som er et permanent problem for den vestlige verdens beboere.

Man må forstå denne atmosfære for ikke at forskrækkes af ord, som hos en sovjetskribent har et andet indhold end for os. Hvad Makarenkos tale om autoritet angår, så nævner han forøvrigt netop en halv snes eksempler på dårlig og skadelig forældre-autoritet og familie-egoisme og definerer den eneste antagelige form for autoritet som noget, der fremgår af eksempler, af ansvarsbevidstheden som arbejder i et fællesskab. I et neurotisk samfund som vores kan oppositionen være et mål i sig selv, en psykologisk frigørelsesproces af værdi for det enkelte individ. Men i et klasseløst samfund har de arbejdende mennesker ingen fornuftig grund til at revoltere mod resultaterne af deres egen revolution. Kritik kan være ønskelig og velkommen, fordi der bestandig vil være noget at rette og forbedre; men opposition for oppositionens egen skyld, opposition som et formål i sig selv, må forekomme sovjet-borgeren uforståelig.

Der findes hos os balstyrige intellektuelle, for hvem selve agressionen fornemmes som en nødvendig menneskerettighed uanset hvilken vej, agressionen går. Disse mennesker slutter sig gerne til de konservative partier med den begrundelse, at kommunisterne ikke er dem kommunistiske nok; de udtaler beundring for den russiske revolution i 1917, men beklager at revolutionens sejrherrer ikke fortsætter med at gøre revolution imod sig selv.

I de sovjetskoler, vi besøgte, førte eleverne ikke krig mod lærerne. Lærerne var ikke fjender, der skulle forulempes, og de hadede ikke børn. Atmosfæren var anden end i mit hjemlands skole. Derfor forekom vores spørgsmål om disciplin og ordenens opretholdelse overflødig. Både børn og lærere så forundrede ud, når vi spurgte. Straf som en nødvendig bestanddel af undervisning eksisterede ikke.

  • Men det kan vel ske, at en elev til stadighed generer undervisningen? spurgte adjunkt Stahl. Hvad gør man i den slags tilfælde? Der blev svaret, at man talte sammen om tingene. I særlige tilfælde kunne problemet forelægges på det ugentlige møde mellem elever og lærere. Skolen er et kollektiv, hvor det samlede resultat er vigtigere end enkeltpræstationer; de dygtigste elever hjælper de mindre dygtige. Intet normalt barn vil bevidst sabotere fællesskabet, og for syge børn er der særskoler. Man tillægger samarbejdet med forældrene stor betydning, og forældre og lærere har regelmæssige sammenkomster. Undertiden afholdes der ligefrem forældre-kursus.

I Sovjetunionens forfatnings paragraf 121 står: »Sovjetunionens borgere har ret til uddannelse. Denne ret sikres gennem almindelig skolepligt, gennem gratis undervisning også ved de højere læreanstalter, gennem et system af statsstipendier til det overvældende flertal af de studerende ved de højere læreanstalter, gennem skoleundervisning på modersmålet« (der er 183 nationaliteter i unionen), »gennem organisering af gratisremovedlig, teknisk og landbrugsvidenskabelig undervisning«.

Og i den følgende paragraf (122) står: »Kvinden i Sovjetunionen har de samme rettigheder som manden på alle det økonomiske, statslige, kulturelle, sociale og politiske livs områder. Muligheden for at udøve disse kvindernes rettigheder sikres ved, at kvinden har de samme rettigheder til at arbejde, arbejdsløn, hvile, socialforsikring og uddannelse, gennem statens vateragelse af moderens og barnets interesser, ved at kvinden under svangerskab får ferie med fuld løn, og gennem et omfattende net af fødehjem, vuggestuer og børnehaver«.

Den gravide kvinde har ret til lettere arbejde (med samme løn), hun har fem ugers ferie før og seks ugers ferie efter fødalen og får løn i denne tid. Den fødende kvinde har ret til gratis klinikophold, hun får pengehjælp til tøj, mad, børneudstyr og mælk, børnerige familier får et pengetilskud med en sum engang for alle samt et månedligt bidrag begyndende med det tredie barn. Ugifte mødre modrager dog dette bidrag med det første barn. På vuggestuerne (der er 800.000 vuggestuer i unionen) kan barnet anbringes hver dag i 10 timer, indtil det er tre år gammelt, når moderen er syg eller har ferie, kan barnet være på vuggestuen døgnet rundt. Børn fra tre til syv år kan anbringes i børnehaverne (der er 60.000 børnehaver) i tilknytning til fabrikker, kontorer og kollektivbrug og under kontrol af undervisningsministeriet. Her kan barnet normalt anbringes i ni timer, af ugifte mødre hele døgnet. Desuden findes en mængde andre børneinstitutioner, børnehjem, mødrehjem o.s.v.

I de forordninger, som danner udgangspunktet for lovgivningen om hjælpen til mødre og børn (forordningerne af 27. juni 1936 og 8. juli 1944), er svangerskabsafbrydelse forbudt, når det ikke er nødvendigt af hensyn til moderens liv eller helbred, eller der er fare for arvelige sygdomme.

I et land, hvor forsorgen er sådan indrettet, at et barn aldrig kan blive nogen byrde, synes forbudet mod svangerskabsafbrydelse ikke urimeligt. Det er mig imidlertid bekendt, at denne bestemmelse har vakt mishag blandt danske intellektuelle, som betragter svangerskabsafbrydelse som et gode i sig selv og ser sig nødsaget til at tage afstand fra en stat, hvor dette gode ikke kan nydes i tilstrækkeligt omfang. At kommunisterne i Danmark, hvor forholdene unægtelig er anderledes, går ind for adgang til svangerskabsafbrydelse, betegnes som inkonsekvent, idet man jo ikke så godt i dette tilfælde kan tale om ordre fra Moskva.

I Sovjetunionen er børn velkomne, man ser på dem med glade øjne. Man omgås dem med den venlige tålmodighed, som er naturlig for unervøse mennesker. Man er ikke så interesseret i dybdepsykologi som i vesten, behovet for psykoanalyse er ikke så stort som i USA, der synes befolket af patienter. Sovjetunionen er er land, der er indrettet for børn, et mærkeligt uskyldigt land med meget legetøj og morsomme og overflødige ting. At de russiske børn må savne de vestlige tegneserier med Fantomet og Superman og de interessante gangsterpiger vil af Danmarks årvågne intellektuelle nok blive betragtet som et utåleligt udslag af censur. Til gengæld har Sovjetunionen børneteatre, børnebiografer og særlige børne-parker. Børneteatret i Moskva blev åbnet allerede i 1918, det har et personale på 315 voksne personer, skuespillere, orkester, dramaturger, komponister, malere o.s.v. og giver to forestillinger om dagen: stykker for børn mellem syv og femten år, skrevet af de bedste forfattere. Foruden Børneteatret er der i Moskva »De unge tilskueres teater« og marionetteatre. I tilslutning til det ene dukketeater er der et dukkemuseum med teaterduker fra hele verden, javanske skyggespil-figurer, italienske, franske og engelske marionetter. Indiske, usbeskiske, kinesiske, japanske, persiske, burmesiske, mongolske dukker.

De små børne-jernbaner, som findes mange steder i Sovjetunionen, er det nydeligste, man kan tænke sig. Rigtige dampdrevne lokomotiver, waggoner med elektrisk lys og automatiske bremser og plads til 30 små passagerer, stationsbygninger med ventesale og undervisningslokaler og biografer, tekniske børnebiblioteker, smedeværksteder og vogndepoter. Det hele sorterer under trafikministeriet. Vi så sådan en bane i Stalingrad, som befordrede børnene fra byen til deres egen kultur-park. Lokomotivfører, togfører, konduktører, billetsælgere, rangerarbejdere var alle børn. Også de overordnede tjenestemænd var børn. Det var der råd til i der ødelagte Stalingrad.

Ingen steder har man så nydeligt legetøj som i Rusland. Legetøjsindustrien bygger på en ældgammel tradition, og de gamle nationale legesager er stadig populære, de drejede koner af træ, Matrosjka’erne, som er hule og kan skilles ad og rummer en anden lille kone inden i sig, som igen rummer en kone, som igen rummer en den allersidste er så lille som en vindruekærne; eller Vanjka-Vstanjka, den russiske tumling, der altid står oprejst, hvordan man så anbringer den. Hver egn har sine specialiteter, bevægelige træfigurer, dyr og mennesker af brændt ler o.s.v. De har verdens pæneste dukker med meget udtryksfulde ansigter, alle mulige dyr og naturligvis mekanisk legetøj, især små landbrugsmaskiner af alle slags. Kun tinsoldater kunne vi ikke finde. I alle de store magasiner er der selvstændige legetøjsafdelinger, hvor børnene selv kan handle. Der eksisterer et særligt forskningsinstitut for legetøj, hvor fra der udgår modeller til fabrikker over hele unionen. I byen Zagorsk ca 50 kilometer fra Moskva findes et berømt legetøjs-museum. Man fortalte mig, at der alene i den russiske republik fremstilles for mere end 300 millioner rubler legetøj om året. Det er der tid til i et land, som efter hvad aviserne og radioen fortæller, forbereder sig på krig.

Da John Steinbeck for et par år siden var i Sovjetunionen, talte han med en bonde i Ukraine. Han var lige flyttet ind i sit nye hus, der var genopbygget efter krigens ødelæggelse, og hans børn oplevede nu for første gang at bo i et hus. Denne ukrainske bonde spurgte Steinbeck: Tror De, at nogen i verden kan være så onde, at de vil sende vores børn tilbage til jordhulerne? Det er der, de har levet under krigen. Vil nogen være så onde? Steinbeck havde ikke noget svar.

  1. Anton Semyonovich Makarenko (1888-1939), Soviet educator ↩︎

  2. 1944 general strike and street barricades in Nazi-occupied Copenhagen ↩︎