When People Work Together

Livestock, buildings, machines and the rest of the common property was worth 7,122,000 rubles before the merger. In 1959 it was worth 10.3 million. THE VILLAGES of Sukhaya and Bolshoye Nizovtsevo are three miles from each other, both located amidst rolling steppe with occasional groves so characteristic of Central Russia. They've both been there for centuries, many of the families are related by blood and marriage. But they never did much mixing, largely because one village was a little more prosperous than the other. In spite of their proximity and family ties, it never occurred to anyone that the stronger village should help its weaker neighbor. The relations between the two villages began to change when they both set up collective farms. They did this almost at the same time, in 1931. Since then they've been sharing experiences, learning from each other, and when necessary, helping each other. Before the war they were both doing well and raising bigger crops year after year. Two years of fascist occupation ruined both villages. There was only rubble and ashes to show for all the years of collective work when the invaders were driven out. In 1946 Captain Fyodor Maximov, who had been chairman of the collective farm in Sukhaya, and Sergeant Artyom Vasyukov, who had held the same post in Bolshoye Nizovtsevo, were demobilized and returned home. The farmers again elected them to head their farms, and they took over their old jobs. Both collective farms started to rebuilt immediately after liberation. They both were granted long-term credits from the government on easy terms for their construction projects and to buy farm equipment, seed and livestock. Given the same start, the Sukhaya farmers moved ahead somewhat faster than their neighbors—they seemed to have more push and initiative. Besides their basic crop, wheat, they put in sugar beet. A refinery that had opened about six miles from the village bought their entire beet crop. They also began to grow their own fodder corn and so were able to do a better job with their livestock. In a short time the farm had not only replaced the cattle slaughtered and shipped off by the fascists but had increased its herds very considerably. All this, of course, showed up in the farm's balance sheet. In 1946 its income was 700,000 rubles; by 1953 it had more than doubled and reached 1,650,000 rubles. The neighboring farm, with practically the same acreage, grew much more slowly. By 1955 its income was only 700,000 rubles. Sukhaya kept growing. With each year it had more and more funds to invest. A power station and new barns were built on the farm, and a clubhouse, kindergarten and nursery in the village. The Sukhaya farmers were doing well also, of course, since they shared the collective profits. Many of the families made 17,000 to 20,000 rubles a year in cash alone, besides what they got in kind. The Bolshoye Nizovtsevo farmers, being human, envied their more fortunate neighbors. But envy doesn't grow bigger potatoes, as centenarian Boris Khudushin put it. He is the oldest member of the collective farm in Sukhaya and was one of the first to vote for the merger with the neighboring collective farm when the question came up in 1956.

The merger talk, interestingly enough, started at the more prosperous farm, and it didn't take long before it was the topic of discussion in both villages. Sentiment for the merger grew after Fyodor Maximov, the Sukhaya farm chairman, had this to say at one of the membership meetings:

"Our oldest member, granddad Boris Khudushin, still remembers the time when every peasant lived only for himself, worried only about his own well-being and, far from helping his weaker neighbor, sometimes even tried to figure out how he could make money at his expense. But now times are different. We all have one common aim—to combine our efforts and work together for the general good. We here can't be indifferent to the fact that the neighboring collective farm is weaker than ours. We have to see to it that Bolshoye Nizovtsevo grows as strong as we are. We can do it by merging."

From the applause he got there was no question about the general feeling on the question. There were a few so-called hardheads who needed more convincing, but they came along when the farm chairman presented figures to show that the merger wasn't altogether philanthropic. There was every likelihood that both farms would do better if they combined.

A unanimous decision to merge was also adopted at a general meeting of the Bolshoye Nizovtsevo farmers, and in February 1957 the two farms joined forces. Fyodor Maximov was elected chairman of the new amalgamated collective farm.

The Sukhaya people don't believe in doing things by halves. At the first combined membership meeting these proposals were moved and adopted: that a good half of Sukhaya's tractors and other farm machinery be used on the fields of Bolshoye Nizovtsevo; that Sukhaya funds be used to build artesian wells and new barns for Bolshoye Nizovtsevo; that agronomists from Sukhaya be assigned to Bolshoy Nizovtsevo.

It is four years now since the merger, and everybody concerned is more than pleased with the results. The joint effort has boosted crops and livestock yields. In the first three years the income of the new farm doubled, and in 1960 it reached seven million rubles. Last year the farm distributed a million more rubles in cash to its members than the two farms had in 1956, besides large amounts of grain, vegetables, meat and other products.

The common property of the two farms owned collectively by its members—buildings, livestock, machinery, etc.—was worth 7.1 million rubles before the merger; in 1959 the new farm was worth 10.3 million rubles. That means that in the three-year period the 600 households that make up the collective farm had added more than three million to the value of the property they held in common. Before the merger the two farms had 17 trucks. There are 26 now, and more tractors, combines and other machines. Three agronomists and a zootechnician now see to it that the farm uses the most modern growing and breeding methods.

All this makes for larger yields, bigger incomes, and the kind of neighborliness that comes when people work together for the common good. It certainly isn't like the old days, as granddad Boris Khudushin would say.