Ukrainian Holodomor

Lord Stoneham of Droxford Excerpts

Thursday 23rd November 2023 Lords Chamber

[Lord Stoneham of Droxford (LD)]

My Lords, I thank the noble Lord, Lord Risby, for initiating this debate and for a brilliant, concise and clear statement of the case. It is always slightly difficult to follow the noble Lord, Lord Alton: as noble Lords know, he prepares extremely well, so you are always worried that he has used most of the arguments that could be thought of in a debate such as this. But I am very pleased to join him.

I carry with me the apologies of my noble friend Lord Purvis, who would have been here but is on a parliamentary delegation to the Falklands. I very much hope that he comes back with the rest of the delegation and that they are not the first line of defence against the new Argentinian President. I am not simply standing in for my noble friend: I have had a long-term interest in Russian economic history, which was one of the formative studies of my life that made me a social democrat—even before being a Liberal Democrat.

As we start this debate, it pays us all to think of the families in our country who have done so much over the last year to look after families from Ukraine. I know a number in Winchester and where I live. It is a remarkable tribute to those families that they have done that, and, if I may say so, to the Government for the firm support that they have given, consistently with the rest of the country, to the people of Ukraine.

The war has revived the names of Kyiv, Kharkiv and Odesa, which all featured so closely in the story of the famine of the 1930s. It is a fact that so much of the current situation in Ukraine stems from that experience of the 1930s and of Soviet colonialism. The noble Lord has already mentioned Anne Applebaum’s writing. She talked in her 2018 book about the consequences of that experience in Ukraine. It allowed or encouraged a tolerance of corruption; it caused a great wariness of state institutions, even democratic ones; and she even talked, slightly surprisingly, about what she called the “political passivity” of Ukraine as a result of that experience. If she were writing now, I would hope that she might have a slightly different view about that since February 2022.

The other quite interesting aspect of recent history is obviously Russia’s attempt to systematically eliminate diversity, language and culture in Ukraine in the 1930s. It is a sequitur of that that Russians still see Ukraine not as a separate state but as part of their own nation.

We have not mentioned this, but the inventor of the word genocide comes from the Polish-Jewish Ukrainian city of Lviv—Raphael Lemkin. I will have a little bit more to say about him in a moment, because I think it is relevant to the story.

First, I will make a few points about the famine. There is no doubt that it was the breakdown in the system of the mixed economy that the Soviet Union was experimenting with in the 1920s that led to the full state industrial policy of the late 1920s and the need for wheat exports to feed the growing urban population in the Soviet Union and also to provide revenue from exports for its industrialisation. Ukraine was probably the most advanced agricultural area in the Soviet Union at that time, but it was also the most difficult for Stalin. Modernisation and collectivism would stimulate, inevitably, resistance from peasant communities and stir national sentiments—which is exactly what happened. The remarkable thing is that, and I think this was mentioned in an earlier speech, there were sufficient exports of grain going out of the Soviet Union that could have fed 5 million—the noble Lord talked about 12 million—and would have been enough to stop the starvation of the 4 million or so people who are said to have died.

We must remember that the 1930s was not a world of mechanised, computerised combine harvesters and even fertilisers. Land was largely manually farmed. Livestock was important for providing transport and movement. The central planners in Moscow had little appreciation of the importance of climate for individual harvests, or that crop yields did not necessarily rise year on year. The skills, motivation and knowledge of the kulaks were not replicated, as they were deported and extinguished by the Communist Party purges. Once the rural rhythm of rotation of crops, providing fodder for livestock and fertilising the ground with animal manure was upset, poor harvests followed and famine was a result. Soviet planners became more frustrated and, with the peasantry alienated from the collectivisation system, the result was that the Soviet authorities sought to impose their will through unrealistic quotas, deportation, resettlement, travel restrictions and purges on farms and villages.

Paralleling this were the purges not just of rural areas but of party officials in Ukraine and of the energetic cultural leaders of the country who were questioning the policy of the Soviet state and were likely to cause trouble to Stalin. The crackdown on the so-called hoarding of grain by the peasantry diminished stocks for the human population and for the animals needed to provide movement, traction and transport. One of the saddest stories is the 200,000 registered arrests—there were probably more—for gleaning grain from the harvests in the fields. It is like the miners going through the coal tips in the General Strike.

The forcible removal of food from people’s homes followed the ill-fated decree by Molotov and Stalin in 1932. Those very names send a chill through one’s back. In the next 12 months, millions died. Some died even when the spring crops came—people starved because their bodies were overwhelmed by the availability of this food, just like the inmates initially experienced in the concentration camps at the end of the war.

Was it genocide? Here I return to Raphael Lemkin, because, by the narrow definition of genocide agreed by the UN after the war, under the Soviet influence, it is not strictly genocide. This is one of our problems. However, Lemkin himself, who coined the term genocide, said in an essay in 1953, Soviet Genocide in Ukraine, that the USSR attacked Ukrainian elites precisely because they were

“small and therefore easily eliminated, and so it is upon these groups particularly that the full force of the Soviet axe has fallen, with its familiar tools of mass murder, deportation and forced labour, exile and starvation”.

We know that, after the war, the Soviets wanted to have a narrow definition of genocide because of their own culpability. This came to mean the physical elimination of an entire ethnic group in a manner similar to the Holocaust. The definition that is used legally for genocide is quite narrow, and the Holodomor does not actually meet this interpretation: it did not eliminate every Ukrainian. Sadly, we also have to accept that some Ukrainians were complicit in the Soviet actions. It is not surprising that the Soviets stopped the wider definition that could have applied.

Anne Applebaum notes that, during this part of the century, since the opening up of Ukraine and Russia, there had been quite a push to get people to recognise the famine in Ukraine in the 1930s as genocide. In 2018, she said that she thought it had probably had its moment and that the attempts had not got very far. She would almost certainly think very differently now. The current war has revived the concept that we should refer to this as genocide. As speakers have already said, it is important to the Ukrainian narrative, and to avoid its assimilation back into Russia, that we revive this concept. Russia’s complicity at the end of the Second World War in its defining of the word genocide makes an even stronger case for us to look at this definition again. I ask the Minister: can the British Government provide a lead now? If they cannot recognise it immediately, can they start discussions so that we can look again at whether the term genocide can apply to the Ukraine famine, as so many other countries have started to do?

There are two other conclusions to draw from this history and the relevance of today. One is that state power has to be subject to democratic checks and balances. A democracy is very complex and it is not always a straight line, but it is incredibly important where state power can create these sorts of tragedies. Ukraine will need a huge amount of help, both economically and politically, to strengthen these checks and balances. That is one of the problems of its history. However, when we look back on that history I hope we will challenge ourselves to ensure that it never happens again.

I have one final thought. The incredible realisation from going through the story is the question of how Putin ever thought he could easily overcome Ukraine and then rule it. He might have been successful in the short term but in the long term it would have been impossible. With Ukraine’s history, culture, language and resilience, which it is now showing, it would have resisted, as it did in the 1930s and as it will in the future. We wish Ukraine well. I hope we can give an encouraging sign by seeking to move this debate onwards.