Dmitrii Shepilov (1905–1995), largely unknown in this country, was an important political figure in the Soviet Union. His positions included editor of Pravda (the daily newspaper of the ruling party), foreign minister, member of the Central Committee of the party, deputy director of the party’s agitation and propaganda department, and deputy of the Supreme Soviet (the Soviet caricature of a parliament). He was also commissioned by Stalin to be the main author of an official textbook on political economy.

After Stalin’s death, Shepilov was close to Khrushchev, who enlisted him to contribute to his famous speech at the 20th party Congress that disclosed the crimes of Stalin. But his relationship with his sponsor soured and in 1957 he was linked to the group that unsuccessfully tried to remove Khrushchev. His political career ended; he was relegated to the position of provincial archivist, and expelled from the party in 1962 (only to be reinstated in 1976 under Brezhnev).

These developments led to a consuming hatred of Khrushchev, whom Shepilov considered far more harmful and despicable than Stalin. In his newsly translated memoir, “The Kremlin’s Scholar” (Yale University Press, 400 pages, $40), he characterizes him as an “uneducated vandal … a semi-educated person … utter provincial hick” full of “duplicity, cunning treachery, hypocrisy and immorality.” By contrast, his views of Stalin fluctuate between boundless admiration and restrained criticism:

Stalin, with all his flaws, had many of the qualities of an outstanding leader. He was a wellrounded Marxist; he was tempered in the legendary school of political struggle … he was wise and patient in deciding complicated affairs of state; in all his thinking …he sought to serve his people, and he was fanatically devoted to the idea of communism… Khrushchev, on the other hand, soon showed himself to be lacking in lofty communist ideals or moral principles. [He] … was an ignoramus, a master of intrigue.

But elsewhere Shepilov wrote that “bit by bit, Stalin had chipped away at inner-party democracy. … He rid the party of … healthy criticism and dealt ruthlessly with anyone he saw as an actual or potential critic of his dictatorial style.”

For much of his life, Shepilov was a high-ranking insider, intimately acquainted with the top leaders, a dedicated supporter of the system, and a true believer. His reflections and recollections enhance our understanding of how the Soviet system worked, what its leaders were like, and how a blend of personal and political motives determined their political behavior and the policies pursued.

“The Kremlin’s Scholar” discloses a series of remarkably contradictory attitudes: Expressions of utmost loyalty to the system alternate with expressions of disappointment and criticism. As is often the case, it is difficult to know at what point in time Shepilov reached the critical positions and to what extent they are projected back in time. There is, however, little doubt that the critical sentiments were associated with the resentment over being shunted aside by Khrushchev in 1957, rather than produced by disinterested reflection. Neither the bitter personal experiences nor the disclosures following Stalin’s death obliterated his basic convictions:

To me … to the end of my days — the majestic ideas that Marx, Engels and Lenin proclaimed … are incarnated in the Soviet system, whose superiority over the capitalist system is incontrovertible … I am convinced a thousand times more firmly than ever that Lenin and the October Revolution opened the way to a form of authentic people’s sovereignty and genuine democracy that is incomparably superior to the most democratic bourgeois parliamentary democracy.

After being appointed to the Central Committee of the party, Shepilov’s “breast was bursting with happiness.” He saw the party as the repository of wisdom and “the thousand-year experience of the struggle for freedom and happiness of mankind.” In turn, the Central Committee was “the brain, the soul and heart of the Party…the country’s supreme forum of wise men.” Even his “election” to the Supreme Soviet, a poor imitation of a representative body, made him “happy and proud,” finding himself among those “whom the great nation … had honored with its votes.” Yet Shepilov writes a few pages later that “all questions brought before the Supreme Soviet are discussed and decided with complete and unswerving unanimity. Between meetings, deputies are given lavish free meals … [they] may buy goods in short supply [in a special store]. … In the evenings they are treated to theatrical performances.”

In his memoir, Shepilov seeks to reconcile his misgivings with his commitment in part by the repeated claim that he was not fully aware of the policies that could or should have raised questions: “Only later, after Stalin’s death did the full tragedy … become clear to me … fifteen years after Stalin’s death, we are gradually beginning to sort out the past.” He falls back on the venerable appeal of great goals and good intentions overshadowing sordid means and their human cost. There was also personal risk associated with voicing doubt:

Of course … doubts and agonizing thoughts arose in our minds. Then why were we silent, why didn’t we object and protest? Out of cowardice, careerism, fear? No, the overwhelming majority of party members were fine, upstanding people. But to ask, doubt or object … became absolutely impossible. The remark would instantly be labeled as ‘wavering from the party’s general policy’ … or as ‘compromising’ with Trotskyism or rightist opportunism. … How then, did we square all this with our conscience? How could we look at ourselves in the mirror? We told ourselves that things were not always this way … and would not stay this way… retreat from Leninist norms was necessary for the survival of the Soviet state … require[ing]iron discipline and complete unanimity within the party… It was this that made us … defend unquestioningly whatever was termed part of the party’s general policy.

It may be too much to expect that a man whose sense of identity was determined by his political beliefs and positions would confront the fatal flaws of these beliefs and their attempted realization.

Mr. Hollander’s most recent book is “The End of Commitment: Intellectuals, Revolutionaries and Political Morality.”