Cars for Comrades: The Life of the Soviet Automobile

by Lewis H. Siegelbaum

The automobile and Soviet communism made an odd couple. The quintessential symbol of American economic might and consumerism never achieved iconic status as an engine of Communist progress, in part because it posed an awkward challenge to some basic assumptions of Soviet ideology and practice. In this rich and often witty book, Lewis H. Siegelbaum recounts the life of the Soviet automobile and in the process gives us a fresh perspective on the history and fate of the USSR itself. Based on sources ranging from official state archives to cartoons, car-enthusiast magazines, and popular films, Cars for Comrades takes us from the construction of the huge "Soviet Detroits," emblems of the utopian phase of Soviet planning, to present-day Togliatti, where the fate of Russia's last auto plant hangs in the balance. The large role played by American businessmen and engineers in the checkered history of Soviet automobile manufacture is one of the book's surprises, and the author points up the ironic parallels between the Soviet story and the decline of the American Detroit. In the interwar years, automobile clubs, car magazines, and the popularity of rally races were signs of a nascent Soviet car culture, its growth slowed by the policies of the Stalinist state and by Russia's intractable "roadlessness." In the postwar years cars appeared with greater frequency in songs, movies, novels, and in propaganda that promised to do better than car-crazy America. Ultimately, Siegelbaum shows, the automobile epitomized and exacerbated the contradictions between what Soviet communism encouraged and what it provided. To need a car was a mark of support for industrial goals; to want a car for its own sake was something else entirely. Because Soviet cars were both hard to get and chronically unreliable, and such items as gasoline and spare parts so scarce, owning and maintaining them enmeshed citizens in networks of private, semi-illegal, and ideologically heterodox practices that the state was helpless to combat. Deeply researched and engagingly told, this masterful and entertaining biography of the Soviet automobile provides a new perspective on one of the twentieth century's most iconic―and important―technologies and a novel approach to understanding the history of the Soviet Union itself.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, Soviet Union, Russia, Politics

328 pages, Paperback

First published February 25, 2008

About the author

Lewis H. Siegelbaum is Professor of History at Michigan State University.

Reviews

[Shrike58 · Rating 4 out of 5]

Although slightly dated, I found this this to be a worthwhile examination of the tortured relationship of the Soviet regime with the motorcar, as while the auto was too useful to overlook the logistical demands that cars made and the "anti-social" mentalities it bred tended to bring out the worst in the Soviet system. As for what's covered, the author devotes chapters to the main auto makers ZIL (producer of limousines for the Soviet elite), GAZ (producer of cars for the general run of Soviet drivers into the 1970s) and VAZ (meant to be a genuine people's car and one of the last expressions of the Soviet adventure of social transformation via production). This is before Siegelbaum considers the logistics and meaning of the automobile in the Soviet Union and into the Russia of the 2000s.

Originally written: May 12, 2020.

[hrh · Rating 3 out of 5]

Fascinating scholarly look at the Soviet automotive industry. It includes charts, graphs, photos, and paintings, but the black-and-white reproductions aren't very clear. The average reader may find it difficult reading at times, the writing style is halfway between scholarly and popular, but devoted concentration yields an informative examination of a unique period of industrial history.

[Andrew · Rating 3 out of 5]

Siegelbaum's 2008 study of the history of the Soviet Union's car industry, and associated aspects of the USSR's automotive culture, politics and economic policy is an interesting, if rather niche text that will most appeal to those who wish to get behind the facade of Communist propaganda and Cold War myths. A comprehensive exploration of how the USSR became motorised, Cars for Comrades: The Life of the Soviet Automobile it reveals the many flaws and challenges that came about during the 74 year history of the Soviet Union as differing regimes tried to reconcile all manner of problems when it came to getting its citizens on the road (or indeed building roads in the first place). From the use of foreign cars to move Lenin around during the Bolshevik revolution of 1917, through the effect of Stalin's purges on designers, directors and factory workers in Soviet car manufacturing plants in 1930s, to the establishment of the 'car city' of Tolyetti as part of a major cooperative deal established by Brezhnev's regime in the 1960s with the Italian manufacturer Fiat, and many points inbetween, the author offers what must be one of the most seminal books on the subject. Whilst sometimes a little dry, but never boring, this is the kind of book that helps one understand what life was truly like behind the old Iron Curtain.

One of the strengths of Cars for Comrades: The Life of the Soviet Automobile is that Siegelbaum is never dismissive of what the Soviets attempted, and in some ways achieved, as they developed a domestic automobile industry. Considering that much of the evidence points to vehicles produced by the likes of ZIL, GAZ and Lada being inferior to European and American cars it would be tempting to write off the whole set up as underwhelming at best. Yes, problems with reliability, spare parts, industrial theft, poor roads and insufficient infrastructure means that the Soviet vehicle would never surpass the models produced by the likes of Ford or BMW. However, considering the inherent difficulties within the Soviet system, especially when influenced and/or inspired by economic problems and political ideologies, that the Soviet automotive industry was able to attempt to meet domestic expectations in the first place is an achievement in itself.

Another strength of this book is that the author takes an holistic apporach to his subject, examining a wide range of issues, histories, events and personalities that contributed to the Soviet automotive experience, and by association how the automotive industry in the USSR reflected the wider polity. Take as a case in point the purges of the second half of the 1930s instituted under the Stalinist regime; Siegelbaum notes how many of those who were in the higher echelons of automotive design and manufacture were punished, including being executed, during this period for political reasons. The relationship between the elite of the Soviet Communist regime and specific vehicles is noted repeatedly, which is then juxtaposed with the wider community's ability to purchase a car, operate and maintain it (which was often exceedingly difficult if not impossible) is another aspect of Siegelbaum's study. That private car ownership versus rentals, taxis and public transport was also a significant philosophical issue for the Soviet polity is addressed by the author, thus providing a key foundation for all that Siegelbaum considers; how could a system built around collective social structures with state intervention and supervision omnipresent countenance the owning of a car for oneself?

Cars for Comrades: The Life of the Soviet Automobile is not perfect, and it does get difficult at times to stay engaged with Siegelbaum's narrative. The detail in which he goes into can become a tad boring, and (through no real fault of his own) having to wade through the numerous acronyms for Soviet bureaucratic bodies and the relevant personalities is a challenge. I would also expect that anyone coming at this book without some pre-existing knowledge of the USSR's history would struggle to sustain an interest in what is covered herein, if indeed such a potential reader would pick the volume up at all.

The importance of Siegelbaum's book is that he makes a significant effort to access the broader historical concern of life in the USSR through the accessible avenue of automotive industries and culture, which provides both himself and the reader a familiar point of reference. It is exceedingly difficult to develop an historical appreciation for life in the defunct Soviet Union if the study was focused on the unique political and philosophical issues pertaining to that society, that regime. Through the consideration of automobiles and the associated aspects of Soviet thinking, industry, culture and politics, Siegelbaum offers the reader a point of contact that can be comprehended more readily. For a 21st Century reader who owns a car in (for example) Australia, Germany or the US, with such ready access to parts and fuel, where most adults can drive and understands how integrated the automobile is in our societies, the Soviet experience is both incredibly alien but very relatable. This might not be a popular book which will satisfy the desires of every reader, but it is a valuable niche study of what life was like in a defunct totalitarian country.

[Nate Stevens · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dense, informative, and in places quite entertaining, this book paints a detailed picture of the major sites of Soviet automobile production through the years, then lengthily examines the infamously poor state of Russian roads, after which comes a brilliant reflection on how car ownership increasing towards the Fall seems quite inextricably linked to the collapse of the dream of socialism.

Small note, my edition was actually missing page 254, and instead had a reprint - the page order went 253, 256, 255, 256, 257! 🤔 I can only assume the missing page held even more cool facts like that Kruschev ran a state operated car rental service for quite a long time on the claimed grounds that individual car ownership is unnecessary — some of us liberal city lovers have definitely dreamed of seeing something similar in the 21st century! Always is interesting seeing how these things turned out... 😬 Same goes for the seemingly valiant attempts at gender equality throughout the USSR, which this book also touches on.

[Barb Cherem · Rating 2 out of 5]

Meh!