Q: So what's up with the number of Soviet elections that were without competition? I know that you could technically vote for whoever you want, but you'll be publicly seen going off to the side in order to do so. There was also the choice of not voting in the first place, and not electing the party's choice. I just keep seeing it as a bit bizzare, making me question what's the point of the local elections in the first place if the (almost certain) victor has been decided on a party level. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a liberal, I don't see democracy as some larger than life moral necessity; i just don't get it
A: First, you have to understand that elections in a socialist country are not a competition, they're a collaboration to find the best set of people that, at the elected position, will best carry out the tasks collectively decided upon. Because of this, socialist elections in general, rather than having campaigns where the candidate with the greatest influence and charisma convinces just enough of the electorate that every other candidate is nothing short of incompetent and harmful, have a series of organized discussions where both the candidates and tasks for said candidates are decided. In these discussions, any candidate could be argued for or against, with the necessary arguments, and if enough of the attending citizens agreed on a new candidate, they were elected. It was the usual procedure that the party would put forward their own proposals, but these weren't set in stone, and first hand sources confirm that the party too would support alternative candidates if it was the majority agreement they'd be best fit for the spot. These positions were recallable too, if people so chose to do so. The best summary of all of this I've found in the following passage:
One tale from a village election that I attended will show the relationship between the people and the ruling party far better than any theoretical discussion. A small group of peasants, entitled to one deputy in the village government, rejected the candidate proposed by the local Party organization and nominated a different one in open meeting. They explained that the Party candidate was a decent enough fellow but seemed too busy with his Party work to attend to all the villagers’ requests. They thought that the energetic girl whom they nominated, who was not a Communist, would give them more time. The new candidate was unanimously elected, all the Communists present, including the rejected candidate, immediately voting for her.
I told the incident to Andrei Zhdanov, Leningrad party chief and one of Stalin’s closest friends. I added that it would be hard to explain to Americans an election in which the local Party leaders congratulated the people on throwing out the Party candidate. He hardly got my point, but said, “What we build cannot be built by passive people.”
Soviet citizens prize the right to instruct their government about their desires, to criticize its performance, to recall its officials. On some occasions, they have exercised these rights to excess. The people of the Crimea, some years ago, recalled such a large percentage of their local officials in one year – I think it was about half of them – that it created a scandal in the Soviet press. Inhabitants of other republics said that the Crimeans were either very changeable or didn’t know how to pick good people. In general, however, the Soviet citizen is far more interested in directly taking part in government than in criticizing the part that others take. It is assumed to be a citizen’s privilege and duty to become a volunteer in government activities by serving on housing commissions, taxing commissions, investigating commissions, according to what interests him most. His test of freedom is dynamic. He demands not so much the right to talk and complain as the right to act. A person who complained about anything in the government without taking the appropriate steps to remedy it would be considered irresponsible.
- The Soviets Expected It, Anna Louise Strong, 1941 (pg. 23)
Electoral politics in a socialist state are, primarily, concerned with the administration of the economy and the wellbeing of everyone within it.
What is competition in the elections of a capitalist state, on that matter? You'd reasonably call me out on playing with semantics if I told you that, even among the communist party candidates, there are multiple approaches and ways of going about the same tasks which do compete in these elections. This would be a disingenuous argument because, at the end of the day, they are all pushing for the very same goals under the same philosphy in not too general lines. A socialist state is a dictatorship of the proletariat, it pursues the interests of a single class. In a dictatorship of the bourgeoisie, it is the same once you look further into it. Most if not all of the political parties in a capitalist state, especially the ones that actually get representation in the executive branch, collectively represent the whole of the capitalist class and pursue its interests. The apparent chasms of difference between these parties are the result of the peculiar situation that contemporary capitalist states find themselves in, which is that, while still having to remain in control of the state as a class, there has to be some mechanism through which the working class can participate. If all the capitalist parties dropped the rhethoric, and explained their differences and similarities with the same frivolity that they used behind closed doors to their friends in the trusts, monopolies and small business coalitions, these elections would lose their veneer of democracy instantly.
Socialist states don't have to hide this. It is a class society, and it governs for the benefit of the majority. In the same way that, in capitalist democracies, it is the members of the capitalist class who get to compare their candidates on their actual intentions and capabilities, in socialist-communist democracies, it is the members of the working class who get to do those comparisons and have those honest discussions. Who would the workers be competing against? Themselves? That's counterproductive and not what the purpose of a socialist state it. Its purpose is to pursue the most beneficial course of action to the working class, national and international. It is participation and collaboration.
At last election day came. Gulinka had 1,269 inhabitants, but an even half of these were children. There were 612 adult electors. Three adults were listed as “deprived of vote”; they were the two old priests and the wife of one of them. Four years earlier when the list of “deprived ones” had been made for the last general election there had been also twelve kulaks and a trader. But the trader had died, the two worst kulaks had been “sent away” and had not returned and the remaining kulaks had redeemed themselves by honest work and were now voters. To replace the fifty who had left the village, 41 boys and girls had reached 18 and were now for the first time voting.
No building in Gulinka could contain all voters. Four sectional meetings were therefore held, three in the outlying hamlets and one in the central school. Each of these assemblies had its list of voters and a number of deputies to elect—one deputy for every group of forty or fifty voters. Thirteen representatives—one for every hundred inhabitants—comprised the village soviet.
[...]
A presiding officer is elected over the protest of the man proposed for the honor. “We’re starting too late,” he complains, “and I shall have to leave to bring in the village cows.” The order of the day is announced and approved. Seven members of the village soviet and two alternates are to be elected, two members of the auditing commission and two alternates, and the statement of instructions is to be given to the incoming soviet. Maria Kurkina reads the election law whereby all persons over 18 years of age who are engaged in useful labor or who do housework or who are incapacitated for labor may vote. She calls upon all “deprived ones” to leave the meeting; this is formality, for the two old priests and the priest’s wife have dropped out of village affairs.
“We now present the list of candidates who have been investigated and recommended by the Gulinka party organization and the Young Communist League,” says President Kurkina. She reads a list and checks the scattering applause which has started. “Any more candidates? Speak up! Give us names! Be active!” There is a pause. Under Kurkina’s urging a man in the rear arises to respond. He takes the floor and begins a long harangue about his troubles and successes in organizing a collective farm. It is quite clear that he has been drinking to the point of mild befuddlement. His neighbors pull him down, but they do not throw him out of the meeting; he has a right here unless he grows violent.
A man rises: “I think there ought to be a representative from the drying sheds; they have forty workers. And I think the new State farm should be represented.” “Candidates, please. Name candidates,” says Kurkina. “The committee did not think that the drying sheds have yet developed any special demands aside from the rest of our peasants, but if they have, let them name a candidate.” Strunin from the State farm and Sadovyev from the drying factory are named. “Any more candidates?” persists Kurkina. “Vote, vote, vote,” calls the crowd.
“Mihailov first—who has anything to say about Mihailov?” A man says: “Mihailov is a good worker, experienced in our village affairs.” Silence falls, broken by the representative of the township election commission. “Hasn’t any one in this meeting any opinions? I see you are just dumbly electing him.” This annoys them and a group of women dissent with vigorously shaken heads.
“No, not dumbly,” protests one of them. “Mihailov did good work on the roads.” Hands are called for. Mihailov gets more than three-fourths of the hands raised. “I wouldn’t call them overenthusiastic for you, Comrade Mihailov,” says the township representative, “but it seems you are going to get in.”
Enthusiasm develops over Menshina, a woman. “I’ve worked with her three years on all kinds of public work,” declares an elector, “and she does everything assigned her energetically and conscientiously. Checking collective farm property, testing seeds, collecting State loans. She works boldly and fights down indifference and backwardness. She also does good productive work in our field brigade, all of whose members want her, [Scattering applause from the field brigade!] Such a member is an asset to our soviet.” A regular forest of hands goes up for Menshina. Three times the chairman tries to count them, but even the help of four assistants is not enough to disentangle all the hands in this crowded room. “It will be simpler,” he sighs, “if those who didn’t vote for Menshina will raise their hands.” Two hands go up. “Tm new in this village and don’t know Menshina,” explains the raiser of one of them.
Pankvashin comes next, recommended by his supporters for “the good work he did in the grain deliveries and in finance,” and then Kosarev, of whom they say: “He does well every job assigned him; he’s been in the soviet since 1931.” Sharkova, the head of the mothers’ consultation, is especially pushed by the women. “We need a sanitary expert to clean up this village.” Mishutkina is a new candidate, a girl in her early twenties, recommended by the members of her collective farm. “Our best champion; as a volunteer on the commission that investigated the hospital, she listed its shortcomings better than any member of the soviet.” Two speak in glowing praise and a third arises. “Want to criticize Mishutkina?” asks President Kurkina. “No? Well, she’s had enough praise. You’ll ruin the girl!”
The next candidate meets with criticism. “Claudia has too long a tongue,” a man declares. “If she is on the soviet, everything that is done there will be chattered all over the village.” “That’s good,” declares the township representative. “But she tells all the secrets.” ‘We haven’t any,” announces Kurkina. “She ruins reputations,” persists the man. A woman rises: “Claudia is accurate, educated and keeps accounts well. Her tongue is too sharp, but that’s no great harm. This village needs some one to wake it up.” Claudia gets some three-fourths of the voters; she and Mihailov seem to be the least popular among the candidates.
Then Strunin comes, first of the independent nominees. His sponsor says: “Strunin is head of our brigade on the State farm; under him we got a fine harvest yield.” A middle-aged woman rises: “Strunin may get production, but he scares his workers. I know several who left his brigade without waiting for their pay.” A murmur of protest rises against Strunin. He gets twenty hands for and twenty-five against; he is defeated, for few people know him. The second independent candidate, manager of the drying sheds, asks permission to withdraw his name. “I’m new and not well known to the village. I don’t know why this comrade wants to recommend me. I am not aware of any special demands for the drying sheds.” A forest of hands allows him to withdraw without a formal rejection. One wonders whether those nominators were seeking the favor of their bosses; if so, they did not guess well.
- The Voice Of The Soviet Village, Anna Louise Strong, 1935
And, to finish the the USSR, I'll also paste in this smaller portion from Soviet Democracy. I haven't read the full work, but I recommend, of course, you give the entire work a go.
I have, while working in the Soviet Union, participated in an election. I, too, had a right to vote, as I was a working member of the community, and nationality and citizenship are no bar to electoral rights. The procedure was extremely simple. A general meeting of all the workers in our organisation was called by the trade union committee, candidates were discussed, and a vote was taken by show of hands. Anybody present had the right to propose a candidate, and the one who was elected was not personally a member of the Party. In considering the claims of the candidates their past activities were discussed, they themselves had to answer questions as to their qualifications, anybody could express an opinion, for or against them, and the basis of all the discussion was: What justification had the candidates to represent their comrades on the local Soviet?
As far as the elections in the villages were concerned, these took place at open village meetings, all peasants of voting age, other than those who employed labour, having the right to vote and to stand for election. As in the towns, any organisation or individual could put forward candidates, anyone could ask the candidate questions, and anybody could support or oppose the candidature. It is usual for the Communist Party to put forward a candidate, trade unions and other organisations can also do so, and there is nothing to prevent the Party’s candidate from not being elected, if he has not sufficient prestige among the voters.
[...]
It will be clear from this description that a Soviet election has, up to the present, been a most simple and informal affair, for the purpose of sending forward the best representatives of the people to sit on the local and national organs of government. Organisations and been members of the Party itself, and, whether they have been members or not, there has never been any guarantee of their election, other than their desirability as candidates to a majority of those present at the meeting. If since November 1917 the Communist Party in the U.S.S.R. has continued to have its members as a majority of the delegates to the Congresses of Soviets, this is purely due to the fact that the Communist Party has put up for election those very people that the electors were likely to respect, and has not as a rule put up people whom the electors were likely to reject.
The election of delegates to the local Soviet is not the only function of voters in the Soviet Union. It is not a question here of various parties presenting candidates to the electorate, each with his own policy to offer. The Soviet electorate has to select a personality from its midst to represent it, and instruct this person in the policy which is to be followed when elected. At a Soviet election meeting, therefore, as much or more time may be spent on discussion of the instructions to the delegate as is spent on discussing the personality of the candidates.
- Soviet Democracy (Ch. XIII, pg. 170 in the book, pg. 165 in the pdf), Pat Sloan, 1937
The USSR isn't the only socialist democracy, current or historical, but that has been the focus as you asked about the Soviet Union specifically. As a last sprinkle of nuance, I'll put in this part of ALS' In North Korea, where they used a different method of election, more familiar to what capitalist democracies use. The entire chapter is dedicated to the first elections in North Korea, before the war, again I recommend reading the whole chapter and, if you can, the entire book.
In November, 1946, North Korea held its first general elections, to approve or disapprove of what the provisional government had done. By this time there were three political parties: the North Korean Labor Party, which was by far the largest; the Chendoguo and the Democrats. These parties formed a "democratic front" and put up a joint ticket, the "single-slate ticket" so criticized in the west.
I argued with the Koreans about it but they seemed to like their system. Ninety-nine per cent of them came out to vote, and everyone with whom I talked declared that there was no compulsion but they came because they wanted to.
I discussed the question with a woman miner.
"Did you vote in the general elections?" I asked.
"Of course," she said. "The candidate was from our mine and a very good worker. Our mine put him up as candidate."
I explained the Western form of elections. What was the use of voting, I argued, if there was only one candidate. Her vote could change nothing.
It would be a great shame for the candidate, she replied, if the people did not turn out in large numbers to vote for him. He would even fail of election unless at least half of the people turned out. "Of course I knew that our candidate would be elected without me," she added with a self-deprecating smile, "for he is very popular and has plenty of votes without mine. But I wanted him to have more votes and to know that everybody is for him, for he is a very good worker from our mine. Besides, it was our first election, and nobody would stay away!
"We all knew the candidate. We all liked him, we all discussed him," she concluded. "The political parties held meetings in our mines and factories and found the people's choices. Then they got together and combined on the best one, and the people went out and chose him. I don't see what's wrong with this or why the Americans don't like it." She paused and then added, with a touch of defiance. "I don't see what the Americans have to say about it, anyway!"
Voting technique was simple. There was a black box for "no" and a white box for "yes." The voter was given a card, stamped with the electoral district; he went behind a screen and threw it into whichever box he chose. The cards were alike; nobody knew how he voted.
Were any candidates black-balled? I learned that there were thirteen cases in the township elections in which candidates were turned down by being thrown into the black box. This fact, which westerners may approve as showing "freedom of voting," was regarded with shame by the Koreans since it meant that "the local parties had poorly judged the people's choice." In one case a candidate was elected but received eight hundred adverse votes, organized by a political opponent. He at once offered to resign, as he had "failed to receive the full confidence of the voters"; the three political parties all jointly urged him to accept the post.
The Koreans are familiar with the competitive form of voting also. This was used in village elections and in many of the township elections in March, 1947. These elections were largely nonpartisan, nominations being made not by parties but in village meetings. Secret voting followed, choosing the village government from competing candidates.
- In North Korea: First Eye-Witness Reports (Ch. 3), Anna Louise Strong, 1949