Strangely enough, I did not see the possibility of such an outcome for Russia for quite some time, right up to the emergence of Gorbachev and his glasnost. Prior to that I had always assumed that the fall of the communist system would occur about ten years later, toward the end of the century, and would be much more radical than it turned out to be. It stands to reason that the inevitability of its fall was beyond doubt, but when and how? Some ten or fifteen years ago the question seemed mainly academic. Our discussions in the 1970s were begun by Andrei Amalrik in his “Will the Soviet Union Survive Until 1984?,” in which, as we see now, he predicted the scenario of the disintegration of the USSR into separate republics quite logically and accurately. It is immaterial that he postulated that the first impetus precipitating the disintegration would be war with China, which never occurred; this is overshadowed by his much more important basic thesis that the ageing of the regime and the growth of opposition (including the rise of nationalism) would render the USSR incapable of surviving a serious crisis. The same issue was postulated in many other books of that period, from Solzhenitsyn’s The Oak and the Calf to my To Build a Castle.
This question of when and how was much more urgent than it seemed at the time, something I realized only upon my arrival in the West. What appeared obvious to us by virtue of our experience was regarded here not as just a subject for discourse, but rather an absurd and even dangerous émigré delusion, similar to the belief of Cuban anticommunists in an easy victory after the Bay of Pigs invasion. The West did not want to take us seriously. At best, Westerners regarded us as a curiosity—just as an ichthyologist, as was keenly noted by Amalrik, would listen to a fish that had suddenly started to talk, but remain convinced that in any event he knew far more about that fish than it was capable of telling him.
Meanwhile the entire policy of the West regarding the Soviet bloc revolved around this question, and if we were right to speak of the ageing of the regime that made it unable to withstand a serious trial, then the West needed to create a deliberate tension, forcing the regime to expend its last strengths. In fact, this did happen to some extent at the beginning of the 1980s, when the hard-line policy of Reagan and Thatcher (coinciding, moreover, with the crises in Poland and Afghanistan) did force the regime to overextend itself to a degree it could not endure.
But the ten or fifteen crucial years were lost. If the West had accepted our advice and taken the path of sharpening relations instead of “defusing” them—and, most importantly, proved capable of mastering the tactics of ideological warfare, the Soviet regime would have collapsed ten years earlier, and the outcome would have been completely different. At least there would be no confusion regarding who was the conqueror and who was the conquered, in which case the process of recovery in Russia would be now as successful as that in the Czech Republic.
In the 1970s, however, this was only the stuff of dreams. The reality called for the need to fear the direct opposite—the full capitulation of the West before the Soviet juggernaut. Yet if we were more or less united and did our best to counter the West’s lack of moral fiber, the issue of how the regime would crash remained hotly disputed even in our midst.
Solzhenitsyn’s sensational “Letter to the Leaders of the Soviet Union,” which was not uninfluenced by Amalrik’s book, raised the question of the transitional period from totalitarianism to democracy for the first time, and incited a veritable storm of protests. It seems amusing now to recall that Solzhenitsyn was attacked primarily for daring to presume the inevitability of such a period, to doubt the feasibility of hopes for the immediate triumph of democracy after so many decades of total bondage. My God, the accusations flung at him by demagogues of all colors, both Western and émigré—that he was a monarchist, a Khomeini-ite, and was practically launching an attempt to seize power. In fact, Solzhenitsyn was deeply immersed in researching the 1917 revolution, and simply wanted to warn about the possibility of a repetition of the same scenario in Russia—and as we see now, he was much closer to the truth than his opponents.
My participation in this debate was partly fortuitous, and partly dictated by circumstances. By the time of my release and expulsion, the debate had degenerated into open persecution of Solzhenitsyn, the absurdity of which I found infuriating. At that time I disliked speculations concerning the future, considering them to be not only futile but harmful, only good for fragmenting our already insignificant forces. What is the sense of arguing about what could replace the communists, who have no intention of surrendering their positions and continue to torment our friends in prisons, while the whole world is prepared to bow to them and assume what biologists call the submissive posture?
Launching into a discussion, they will invariably descend into mutual accusations of pernicious intentions, for each one of them goes beyond the limits of arguing about the matter in substance and dons a toga of righteousness, crushing his opponent with the moral superiority of his aims. Furthermore, give the intelligentsia the chance of an unfettered discussion about the future, and it will invariably reach the level of the “higher wisdom” voiced by all the blabbermouths of all times and nations, claiming that nothing should be done at present because it will only make things worse in the future. That is exactly what occurred this time around too, even though it is simply impossible to think of anything worse than a communist dictatorship. But that is what the intelligentsia is for, to exercise an unbridled imagination capable of inventing itinerant phantoms. So having argued ad nauseam and also accused Solzhenitsyn of all the deadly sins, the intelligentsia arrived at the conclusion that God forbid anyone do anything, or the communists might metamorphose into a more terrible monster—such as national bolshevism, which they saw as the goal of that traitor Solzhenitsyn.
The highly respected professor of logic Alexander Zinoviev stated directly, with all the implacability of his chosen discipline, that “if tomorrow I were offered the choice between the Soviet type of rule and Solzhenitsyn’s type of rule, I would choose the former.”
In a word, much as I tried to avoid entering into these senseless disputes, purely practical considerations demanded involvement if only to put an end to a squabble so ruinous to us all. It was something like the regrettable wartime necessity of pulling back troops from the front in order to quell a rebellion in the rear. Now, looking back over these pages (“Why are Russians Quarrelling?”,61 I find it intriguing to recall what I thought about the “transitional period” at that time, back in 1979:
“Undoubtedly, all predictions concerning an imminent revolution in the USSR are ludicrous, and their propagation criminal, just like the preaching of terror. Only sentimental writers can assert that revolutions are born of poverty and popular lack of freedom, in a time when people are at the end of their tether. Nobody knows fully why revolutions occur, but in circumstances of need and hunger people are more inclined to theft, to individual rebellion, or to dull submission. A person deprived of liberty knows nothing of his rights and is, in any case, too debased to demand any rights at all. An able government has no trouble suborning the more gifted and energetic individuals among a mass of disunited, embittered people. In other words, all this leads to the stagnation and decay that we see in the USSR. In this condition, even if some magical external force were to remove the existing structure of state rule, it would unleash an all-out catastrophe, anarchy, and mutual destruction.
Revolutions usually occur when real poverty and deprivation of rights are long gone, but accumulated hatred and distrust of the authorities render every reform unacceptable and insufficient. In such circumstances an indecisive or inept government is a sure guarantee of revolution.
Expecting justice or freedom from a revolution is incredibly naive. Every social upheaval brings the worst dregs of society to the fore, and “those who were nothing, will become everything.” A revolution promotes the most cruel, ignoble, bloodthirsty people with strong and despotic personalities. Predatory chieftains. After a fierce civil strife the most ruthless and cunning of them concentrates all power in his hands. That is, revolutions always end in tyranny, not freedom and justice.
Can all this happen in the USSR? Sadly it can, but probably not soon. For the time being, the existing powers are sufficiently strong to avoid any reforms. Even the curtailed Alexei Kosygin reforms were not passed in their original form. This is not devoid of its own logic. The authorities are fully aware that the existing unwieldy bureaucratic apparatus could not cope with the elemental pressure generated by significant reforms. The brash Mauser-toting young men who played the game of the revolutionary hurricane are long dead. The communist regime of today’s Soviet Union is probably the most conservative in the world. Even Khrushchev turned out to be too daring. To date, no forces independent of the government that could force the state to institute reforms have emerged in our country.
The period of formation of such forces may last as long as it takes, depending on the behavior of the government, the international situation, and so forth. Current economic difficulties will not motivate the powers that be to enact significant reforms. Thus, regrettable though it may be, no rapid improvements can be expected, let alone radical changes. One may only hope for a gradual growth of independent social forces against a background of stagnation and decay. At present, all that can be seen are the mere contours of these emerging social forces: nationalist movements, religious movements, civil liberties movements (composed mainly of the intelligentsia), and the first green shoots of a workers’ movement.”
In my perception at the time, this transitional or preparatory period meant “the struggle of the country’s social forces for their independence, a struggle in which there would be increasingly less totalitarianism and more democracy, until such time as revolution became unnecessary. That is to say that in my view, this period of transition has already begun.”
Our task, ipso facto, was to promote the growth and strengthening of this movement and its nonviolent traditions, gaining its acknowledgement and support by the West, so that in the moment of the regime’s final crisis there would be a force capable of ensuring a maximally painless, bloodless transition. All our efforts both within the USSR and in exile were directed toward this end.
Clearly, at the time nobody could foresee all the twists and variations to come, but even now, knowing the subsequent turn of events, I see no serious error in my reasoning. Apart from a peaceful revolution, there is no civilized solution to the problem that would prevent, on one hand, a monstrous bloodbath, and on the other, gradual decay and demise of the country alongside the regime. Yet in order for such a scenario to work, the Soviet citizen must cease to be a Soviet citizen for at least a moment. He must reject the temptation of being a time-server, step over the fear of repressions, i.e., make an effort, his own choice, in order to become a normal human being.
In all probability this would have happened despite all the repressions, were it not for Gorbachev’s “cunningstroika,” which, one can assume, was the brainchild of the sagacious Central Committee, in part as a means of averting just such an outcome. But in hoping for the salvation of the system by way of long overdue and half-hearted reforms, the CC blundered into that very scenario of loss of control over the process of which I wrote. This was the end of the communist regime, just as ignoble as its beginning, entangled in conspiracies, sinking in putsches, and condemning the country to disintegration and unrest. For Gorbachev’s “reforms” were aimed at preventing, at all costs, the formation of those independent social forces that could ensure stability in the transitional period.
The regime was doomed, but before breathing its last it still had time for a final villainy: it turned the country into a whore through the false promise of easy recovery, without effort or sacrifice. The success of this deception, especially among the intelligentsia (the man in the street was deeply suspicious of Gorbachev’s stratagems), was much more depressing to behold than all the reconstructed trickery of Soviet leaders. Communists are communists, with all their typical assurance that with a degree of deceit it is possible to outsmart the economy and fool the people, cheat history, and sail into paradise as if in all innocence, remaining unnoticed until someone blows the whistle. Yet when I saw how easily and willingly the intelligentsia accepted the possibility of salvation “from the top,” it was a body blow.
Could it be that there was not one person in Russia who did not understand that this party, mired as it was in corruption, lies, and crimes, was guilty of leading the country into a dead end? Could it be unclear to anyone that the depths of this party, which had spent half a century in deliberate recruitment of careerists and scoundrels into its ranks, could never be a source of renewal? Was it not obvious that salvation from the catastrophe they had perpetrated required, first and foremost, guarding the country from them, and not acting with them?
Of course not; the intelligentsia understood everything well enough. All these questions were the subject of endless debates raging across Moscow kitchen tables back in the 1960s. The simple truth is that of all the social groups in the USSR, the intelligentsia was the most acquiescent, the best fed, and, like Professor Zinoviev, “preferred” the Soviet regime (while cursing it at the same time). And now—what good fortune!—the Master finally allowed self-expression in the press. How could one not rejoice? How could one not praise the Master?
Giving credit to the adroitness of the Soviet leaders, who managed to knock together a “bloc of communists and non-party members” even on the edge of doom (moreover, on the basis of anticommunist feelings!), it was impossible to ignore the fact that the Russian intelligentsia, contrary to Anton Chekhov’s precepts, was still unable to rid itself of the internal slave, not by drop or by trickle. In any event, the cronyism of permitted glasnost bound it just as easily as Lenin bound the Russian rabble by encouraging it to “steal what was stolen.” The imaginary threat of a return of the former masters made them all obedient instruments in the hands of communist manipulators. The original sin of Gorbachev’s “freedoms” lay in that they had been gifted. What has been gifted and not earned makes it akin to something stolen: it can be taken back, accompanied by a slap on the head. What use is there in thinking about alternatives? God grant that the Master does not return and send you out to the barn for a good thrashing.
To use the slang appropriate to this instance, Gorbachev’s glasnost made the intelligentsia a painted whore to a much greater degree than Brezhnev’s censorship. No matter how bad things were before, society still retained certain criteria regarding common decency, certain rules of moral hygiene observed by morally healthy people, while one who was infected knew of his affliction and was visible to others. This signaled the start of particularly disgusting times, when it became impossible to tell the difference between the ailing and the healthy, and all criteria were sacrificed to the noble cause of “saving perestroika” from conservative dreamers. This led to the total “Yevtushenkovization” of the intelligentsia and the “Medvedevization”62 of the entire country. All of a sudden, everyone became great politicians, and decent people were relegated to obscurity while compromises with conscience were approvingly dubbed “political expediency.” Having restructured themselves in one go, they stepped forward in unison under the slogan “Living without lies at all costs!” And lo! here is yesterday’s strangler overwhelmed by his own liberalism, while yesterday’s liberal is not averse to doing a little strangling himself.
Naturally, this was strongly assisted by the unquestioning support of Gorbachev by the West, as a result of which the situation in the country, which was already sufficiently complex, became tangled into a state of utter hopelessness. At this point in the crisis, for the enormous number of people in the communist world who were not used to independent thought, the “opinion of the West”—which was actually the opinion of the Western establishment—was just as inarguable as Holy Writ to a religious believer. So since the West had proclaimed Gorbachev a hero, and his perestroika to be democracy, who in Russia would dare to raise a dissenting voice?
The West had its own share of those keen to believe Gorbachev’s fables. Or, at the very least, it was deemed wise to encourage the “rebuilders” as a reward for their diligence. And it is true that people tried: they brought down the Berlin Wall, repealed article 6 of the Constitution, published The Gulag Archipelago, and did not even imprison anyone for the last couple of years. What more can you ask for?
Oh, I was told, you suffered too much at their hands. You can’t be objective. There must be a point beyond which the Soviet regime ceases to be the Soviet regime, and the communists to be communists, so our hostility must be replaced by good will.
What could I answer? How is it possible to explain to people who have never lived under this regime that communism is not a political system and not even so much a crime as a sort of mass illness, like an epidemic of the plague? It is impossible to take offence at the plague, one can neither quarrel nor make amends with it, one can only become infected or not. Consequently there is no chance of “reconstructing” or “reforming” the plague: one must strive to recover from it, straining every sinew of the will to live. As a rule, the ones who do not try to fight and who sink into apathy do not survive.
This thoughtless euphoria in the West undermined the last chance of victory over communism, and alongside that the smallest hope for Russia’s recovery. It was as if the Allies at the end of the Second World War had not demanded the unconditional capitulation of Nazi Germany, but contented themselves with its perestroika, namely a certain liberalization of the regime. Had that been so, what would Europe be like today? Certainly there would be no democracy but, as is elegantly phrased nowadays regarding former communist countries, no post-Stalin period. Marshal Petain would have been a hero who “saved” France, and the participants of the Resistance would be regarded as irresponsible adventurers who only impeded the wise Vichy reformers with their extremism.
The result was catastrophic. Among other things, it contributed to the already pending schism in our movement, pushing part of it under Andrei Sakharov’s leadership into a suicidal alliance with the acolytes of perestroika. So lo and behold, former political prisoner and priest Gleb Yakunin urged people to vote for ex-KGB general Kalugin, who had been an organizer of killings of dissidents in the past. In view of all this, how was it possible to determine who was a real democrat and who was one of Gorbachev’s adherents? I shall never forget how, opening his puppet parliament in the spring of 1989, Gorbachev made the grand gesture of inviting Sakharov to step up to the podium, thereby covering up all the lies, all the manipulations and falsifications of the dying regime.
“Andrei Dmitrievich, may I invite you….”
I can still see this scene before my eyes—the scene of the inglorious end of everything I had lived for. Almost thirty years of stubborn striving aimed at the creation of independent social forces turned to ashes. And even though Sakharov, to give him his due, realized his error shortly before his death, tried to form a party of opposition, and even called for a campaign of civil disobedience toward Gorbachev’s regime, it was too late.
Now, when history has pronounced its verdict, there is no need for me to prove who was right. The communist regime collapsed despite the efforts of the entire world to save it, thereby confirming what the fish tried to tell the ichthyologist: about his ageing, and that he could not be reformed, but that it is possible (and necessary) to liquidate him, that the threat of nuclear war shall disappear only with his liquidation. The West-acclaimed communist reformers and their Nobel Peace Prizes have disappeared from the stage without managing to produce a “socialist market model.” Who remembers them now? But the ruined country remains, with no future, no hope of salvation, the remnants of whose former life are now home to bands of marauders, while millions of impoverished, downcast people tramp glumly past the rubble of their dwellings.
As it happened, I did not bother to copy many documents about Stalin’s repressions, just a few to illustrate that time and that amazed me with their sheer cynicism. It was, in fact, a conveyor belt of death, working nonstop and according to plan, just like Soviet industry in its entirety. Although we know most of these stories from books and accounts, some of the documents impressed even me by their seemingly commonplace inhumanity. It is one thing to know about something, quite another to see a careless note from Stalin sentencing 6,600 people to death with a casual stroke of the pen (31 December 1938*).
The scope of socialist transformation of the country was such that the leaders were uninterested in individuals. The count embraced thousands, tens of thousands, divided into categories. Upon fulfilment of the plan (“quota”) regarding enemies of the people (just like reports on the harvest or the yield of milk), republics, regions, areas, and districts reported to Moscow about work accomplished and, as is done under socialism, requested permission to exceed the plan as a demonstration of zeal (4 February 1938*, No. 95/III).
Moscow, CC CPSU(b) to comrade STALIN
The troika has completed its work, within the quotas of the region 9,600 persons comprising kulak, SR, rebel and other anti-Soviet elements have been tried. Additionally, kulak-White Army elements conducting subversive activity have been uncovered, in total for the region—up to 9 thousand kulak anti-Soviet elements.
The regional committee requests the introduction of an additional quota of 3 thousand for the first category, 2 thousand for the second category, and for an extension of the deadline until 20 March.
Regional committee secretary of the CPSU(b) Yu. Kaganovich.63
Having conferred, the leaders kindly granted permission for the cull to be continued and then, it may be assumed, set off for a cultural evening at the Bolshoi Theatre to enjoy a performance of Swan Lake.
Extract from the Minutes N58 of the meeting of the Politburo of the CC CPSU(b). (17 February 1938*, Pb 58/57).
Decision dated 17.2.1938.
57. Question regarding the NKVD.
To permit the NKVD of Ukraine to conduct arrests of kulak and similar anti-Soviet elements and to examine their cases by troikas, raising the quota for the NKVD UkSSR [Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic] by thirty thousand.
Special troikas usually consisted of the first secretary of the regional committee (a district or the CC of a republic), the head of the relevant department of the NKVD, and the regional public prosecutor (for the district or republic). It stands to reason that they simply could not cope with work on such a scale. Over 1938 alone, quotas increased, terms were extended, and the whole meat grinder threatened to become uncontrollable. Finally, in November, Stalin ordered the termination of the work of the troikas and the transfer of new cases to the courts (15 November 1938, P64/22).
It is hard to imagine how people who experienced those times—both executioners and victims—could remain psychologically sound. And is it really possible to distinguish one lot from the other? For instance, this is a report from an NKVD officer to Nikolai Yezhov in October 1937 about “glitches” in the functioning of the machine (31 October 1937*):
Several days ago the inhabitants of one of the collective farms in the Kuznetsky District complained to the regional committee instructor that not far from them, a mass killing had taken place during the night. A check discovered that 8 enemies of the people had been shot in the woods during the night pursuant to sentencing by a special troika. The head of the regional commissariat for internal affairs (RONKVD), who had been expelled from the party on the previous day for connections with exposed enemies of the people, sanctioned a provocative act, having failed to ensure that the executed persons were buried.
The indicated head was arrested. The executed enemies of the people were interred.
Due to poor security, there were two incidents in investigators’ rooms of the Kuybyshev NKVD in which 2 enemies of the people under interrogation jumped out of the window and fell to their deaths.
I would not care to hazard a guess as to how many people they killed—I found no figures concerning the numbers shot—but judging by a report to Stalin from Lavrentiy Beria and Andrey Vyshinsky in February 1939, it emerges that from 1927 the troikas and special tribunals of the secret police (OGPU and NKVD) sentenced two million one hundred thousand people to imprisonment and internal exile alone (5 February 1939, 530/B). This does not include the courts and tribunals that also labored without respite, or the mass deportations of “kulaks” in the period of collectivization.
The years 1937 and 1938 gained particular notoriety only because the repressions at that time affected the communist leaders themselves. For simpler people, other years were no better. Even the war did not ease their lot: it suffices to recall that entire peoples were deported, and millions of prisoners of war passed from German concentration camps to Soviet ones. It is not so well known that the fighting spirit of the troops was also underpinned by repressions.
“From the beginning of the war to 10 October of this year, the Special Departments of the NKVD charged with protection of the rear detained 657,364 soldiers who had abandoned their units and fled the front,” reported the deputy head of the Department of the Special Operations Executive of the NKVD, Commissar for State Security Solomon Milshtein, to his boss Beria (31 October 1941*).
Among those arrested by Special Departments were:
spies 1,505 saboteurs 308 cowards and panic-mongers 2,643 deserters 8,772 spreaders of provocative rumors 3,987 individuals inflicting self-harm 1,671 […] TOTAL: 25,878 Pursuant to the resolutions of Special Departments and sentences handed down by military tribunals, 10,321 individuals were shot, of which 3321 were executed publicly in front of soldiers’ ranks.
All this relates only to the first three months of the war at the actual front line. As far as the chekists were concerned, their writ ran the entire length and breadth of the enormous country, with the front being everywhere, and the sophistication of their methods could be reduced to the point of absurdity. Many of their “operations” came to light only in 1956, during the so-called “thaw,” when the party control committee reviewed the cases of innocent repressed party members. Here is a case in point (4 October 1956*, St 1061):
Investigation established that in 1941, acting with the sanction of the leadership of the NKVD USSR, the Khabarovsk regional NKVD set up a bogus Soviet border post 50 km from the city of Khabarovsk, near the village of Kazakevichi, close to the border with Manchuria and a “District Japanese Military Mission” to which state security officials referred as “the mill” in correspondence. The NKVD plan was that such a fake Soviet border post and Japanese border and intelligence bodies was a test for Soviet citizens who were suspected of hostile activity by state security organs.
In practice, however, this undertaking was crudely perverted and employed against innocent Soviet citizens, not genuine enemies of the Soviet state.
The former head of the Khabarovsk NKVD department [Sergei] Gogolidze and the former head of the second department of the NKVD USSR [Pyotr] Fedotov used “the mill” for the purpose of fabricating accusatory materials against Soviet citizens.
A “check” at the notorious “mill” began with a person suspected of espionage or other anti-Soviet activity being approached to carry out an NKVD mission across the border. After receiving the consent of the “suspect” to go on the mission, his crossing into Manchurian territory would be staged from the fake Soviet border post, where he would be detained by supposed Japanese security officials. Subsequently the “detainee” would be taken to the premises of the “Japanese Military Mission” and interrogated by NKVD personnel posing as Japanese intelligence officers and White Russian émigrés. The aim of the interrogation was to get the “subject under questioning” to admit his ties with “Soviet intelligence” to the “Japanese authorities,” with the employment of intense pressure, threats and torture in order to break the “detainee” morally. Many persons deliberately placed in such an unexpected and difficult situation, believing that they had really fallen into enemy hands and could be killed at any moment, told the NKVD officials masquerading as Japanese of their connection with the NKVD and the instructions they had been given as to what they were supposed to do in Manchuria. A number of these people, terrified of the mortal danger in which they found themselves, would furnish some information about the USSR under threat of torture and death.
Once the interrogation, which could last days or weeks, was over, the “detainee” would be recruited by the alleged “Japanese intelligence” officers and returned to the territory of the USSR, charged with an espionage mission. The grand finale of this provocative game would be the arrest of the “suspect” by the NKVD to be arraigned for high treason, followed by sentencing by a Special Session to lengthy terms of imprisonment or execution.
By such means, 150 people “went through the mill” from 1941 to 1949 and, although they were subsequently exonerated (the majority postmortem) and this whole chekist enterprise condemned as “antistate” in Khrushchev’s time, none of the chekists involved were ever brought to book. Most of them were simply pensioned off, and even the inventor of that reprehensible “mill” and its permanent curator, Fedotov, got off lightly with a rebuke for overstepping party responsibility. This is hardly surprising in view of the fact that practically the entire leadership of the country was involved, to one degree or another, in “Stalin’s” repressions, starting with the head of the KGB of the time, General Ivan Serov, who was directly linked with the Khabarovsk mill (12 September 1956*)64 and ending with Khrushchev himself.
Brezhnev, who made his career relatively late in the final years of Stalin’s rule, also had time to participate in this countrywide meat grinder. Upon becoming the first secretary of the CC of Moldavia in 1950, he hurried to ask for additional quotas to cull hostile elements (6 October 1952, No. 10931). By that time the “class struggle” had subsided somewhat, so there were no big pickings left. A few pitiful survivors were all that remained from previous purges: around 735 kulak families (2,382 persons), 735 kulak “loners,” and sectarians—850 families of Jehovah’s Witnesses and 400 families of Innokentivites, Archangelists, Sabbatarians,65 Pentecostals and Seventh-day Adventists, totaling about 6,000 souls. Not much of a catch, but vigilance had to be maintained.
The cadres were Stalinist, and could not be expected to be too strict in their condemnation of “isolated breaches of Soviet legality in the period of the Cult of Personality.” Moreover, they had no intention of stopping political repressions as such. Contrary to popular opinion, the “thaw” was very relative: only its scope and style changed, but not the essence. It is curious to note that many years later, in 1975, the head of the KGB, Yuri Andropov, vexed by our campaign in defense of human rights, justified himself before the Central Committee by pointing out that many more people were imprisoned under the “liberal” Khrushchev than on his watch (29 December 1975*, 3213-A):
As to measures of criminal prosecution concerning the so-called “dissidents,” by which the West usually means persons whose actions come under articles 70% 66 and 190-1% 67 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR, the figures are as follows: In the period from 1967… to 1975, 1583 persons were sentenced under the indicated articles. In the preceding nine-year period (1958–1966), the number of persons sentenced for anti-Soviet agitation and propaganda amounted to 3448 persons. Incidentally, in 1958, precisely the period that is frequently referred to in the West as “the period of liberalization,” when N.S. Khrushchev declared on 27 January 1959 that there were “no facts of bringing persons to book for political crimes,” 1416 persons had been sentenced, which is almost as many as in the last nine years.
The West has always preferred to think in stereotypes, and see a liberal in each new Soviet leader. Nobody was denied this accolade: not Stalin, not Khrushchev, not Brezhnev, not Andropov, to say nothing of Gorbachev. Maybe this arose from the persistent Western dream that the communist threat would somehow simply disappear, without struggle and risks. In the words of a popular ditty:
Got up early one fine day—
Soviet power’s gone away!
This was the dream of those who were not the worst by far—the worst suggested killing the Soviet anaconda “with kindness” by succumbing to it body and soul. I remember well how I was castigated by the English intelligentsia in 1978 after the publication of my book To Build a Castle, simply because I was insufficiently respectful toward Khrushchev and his “thaw.” How dare I commit such sacrilege! Indignation knew no bounds, especially in the Guardian, which always thought it knew everything about our life better than we did. Actually, if there was something to distinguish Khrushchev from all the other leaders after Lenin, it was his rather naive belief in the imminent triumph of communism. He prepared for this with enormous energy, at the very time when the West was weaving him the garland of a liberal (3 September 1953**).
RESOLUTION
On the organization of the 12th (special) department under the Second Chief (intelligence) Administration of the MVD USSR [Ministry of Internal Affairs of the USSR] dated 9 September 1953, Moscow
To charge the MVD USSR (Comrade Kruglov) with organizing the twelfth (special) department under the Second Chief (Intelligence) Administration of the MVD USSR for the purpose of conducting sabotage at important military-strategic objects and communications on the territories of the main aggressive states—USA and England, and also on the territories of other capitalist countries used by the aggressors against the USSR.
To acknowledge the feasibility of conducting terrorist acts [crossed out and overwritten by hand, “active measures”] toward the more active and hostile enemies of the Soviet Union among prominent figures in capitalist countries, particularly dangerous foreign spies, leaders of anti-Soviet émigré organizations and traitors to the Motherland.
- To establish that all activities of the MVD USSR regarding the 12th (special) department are subject to preliminary scrutiny and sanction by the Presidium of the CC USSR.
- To confirm the status, structure and personnel of the 12th (special) department under the Second Chief (intelligence) Administration of the MVD USSR.
Secretary of the CC CPSU N.S. KHRUSCHEV
Some liberal, wasn’t he? As for those of us who were incarcerated during his “thaw,” the above document comes as no surprise. The killings, the kidnapping of leaders of émigré organizations, were well known at the time, just like Khrushchev’s invention—psychiatric repression.
Furthermore, as we see now in documents,68 the course toward partial de-Stalinization after the leader’s death was inevitable, and the first to suggest it was not Khrushchev but… Beria. Naturally, he was not prompted by the goodness of his heart or any striving toward the purity of Lenin’s ideas, but a vicious power struggle. Being the head of the MVD USSR and state security at the time of Stalin’s death, he had access to the archives of these organizations, which, obviously enough, he used against his opponents. Starting rehabilitation on cases in which they, and not he, had been involved by force of circumstances, Beria set the rules of the game for all post-Stalin battles for power. Khrushchev and company had no choice but to remove him physically and, having done so, resort to his methods. But the genie was out of the bottle, and putting it back was impossible.
Strangely enough, Beria, who entered into history as no more than Stalin’s executioner and pathological murderer, emerges as a politician with imagination. His campaign for selective rehabilitation was not limited to a fight for power, he saw it as a new party line for de-Stalinization. Among other things, in the realm of foreign policy, he suggested reaching agreement with the West for the reunification of both Germanys into a neutral state for the price of 10 billion dollars, which is exactly what, thirty-five years later and much less successfully, was accomplished by Nobel Peace Prize winner Gorbachev. It is easy to imagine how the West would have glorified Beria if had he won the power struggle. The entire post-Stalin period would be known as “Beria’s thaw,” and nobody would spare a thought for Khrushchev.
In any case, the Khrushchev rehabilitation as such was much less honest than was thought by many at the time. For instance, as was recorded in a note to the CC from Vladimir Semichastny, the head of the KGB at the time (25 December 1962*, 3265-S), practically until the end of Khrushchev’s reign the families of those who had been shot on rulings of the troikas were simply being lied to about the fate of relatives who had disappeared without a trace:
In 1955 the organs of the KGB, acting with the knowledge and consent of the relevant bodies and by agreement with the Procuracy of the USSR, the Committee for State Security issued directive N108сс, which determined the procedure for examinations of applications by citizens interested in the fate of persons shot on rulings of extrajudicial bodies (former College of the OGPU, troikas of the DP OGPU-NKVD-UNKVD USSR and the Procuracy of the USSR). In accordance with this directive, state security organs were to advise families of convicted persons that their relatives had been sentenced to 10 years in corrective labor camps where they died later, and in mandatory cases involving the settlement of property or other legal matters, to register the deaths of the executed in registry offices with the issue of death certificates to the interested parties, in which the date of death would be indicated within the limits of 10 years from the date of arrest, while the cause of death would be purely fictitious.
The establishment of the indicated procedure in 1955 was motivated by the circumstance that in the period of mass repressions great numbers of people were unjustly sentenced, therefore admitting the truth about the real fate of those repressed could have a negative effect on the situation of their families. It was further assumed that advising the bereaved families of the truth concerning the execution of their relatives could be exploited at the time by individual hostile elements to the detriment of the Soviet state.
The existing procedure for the reporting of fictitious data relates mainly to innocent Soviet citizens who were unjustly executed on rulings of extrajudicial bodies in the period of mass repressions.
Resulting from the reviewing of criminal cases from 1954 to 1961, around half of those shot on the orders of extrajudicial bodies were rehabilitated. In most cases, relatives were falsely informed that deaths had occurred in places where the relatives served their sentences.
It stands to reason that Semichastny does not suggest that the KGB should admit to lying and tell people the whole truth, he simply recommends “giving verbal information regarding the true circumstances of the death” to repeated applicants especially, as he writes that there are fewer such enquiries every year, “and the registration of the deaths in question in registry offices should note the date of execution, without indicating the cause of death, as is done by the Military College of the Supreme Court of the USSR and military tribunals with regard to persons shot upon court rulings.”
So to this day we do not know the whole truth about that terrible period. All we have are scraps, fragments, events, and stories that are occasionally hard to distinguish from apocrypha circulated so widely “in secretive times, now almost legendary” (as was keenly observed by Vysotsky). There have been relatively recent exhumations of formerly secret mass graves, but it is impossible to determine the truth from these pitiful scattered bones.
And do we really want to know that truth? I fear that those days of raging insanity shall always remain a black, terrifying block in the minds of people, no matter how many new documents we may find.
It is probably for this reason that I believe more in the legends, songs, images, and sounds of my childhood: to me they are a more faithful reflection of those times. If the images in my memories are invariably murky gray, coarse-grained pictures, similar to old photographs or cinema newsreels of those years, then the sound predominating my childhood was the even, intense roar of motors somewhere over the horizon, unnerving and provoking. It was as though a child’s ear could hear something that adults, always immersed in their cares, could not—the incessant working of the infernal machine of the regime.
This was a time of some kind of strain, almost hysteria. On one hand pompous Stalinist parades, salutes, and First of May demonstrations with the participation of practically half the city’s population; on the other hand the miserable, poverty-stricken life in barracks and communal housing, with continuous brawls and drunken curses, with ubiquitous cripples around bars and groups of hoodlums in the yards. And the uglier that everyday life was, the more official heroic bravado sounded from loudspeakers. It was everyone’s duty to be a hero, as was proclaimed in the well-known song:
If the land demands you be a hero,
We shall all respond to that great call.
The liberated man in a socialist society was obligated to become a supreme being, conquer natural forces, reverse the flow of rivers and transform deserts into flowering gardens. This had its own inexorable logic: creating a heaven on earth required daily miracles.
So these were made-to-order heroes. Always half-starved, always in sweatshirts or military uniform (I do not recall any other types of apparel in my childhood); but pilots stormed the skies, polar explorers conquered the North. Almost with their bare hands, heroes dug canals, built dams, and constructed the largest industrial complexes in the world. The triumphant proletariat swept from victory to victory, demonstrating the invincible force of collective labor.
Of course, all this state-generated romanticism had nothing in common with real life. Despite his burning desire to laud the achievements of the builders of the “garden city” in the midst of impassable taiga, the greatly talented poet Vladimir Mayakovsky unintentionally exposes the sheer absurdity of the situation:
Workers squat in the mud,
Chewing sodden bread.
You see this picture, it is real, so it is totally impossible to accept the pathetic, not to say hysterical, conclusion:
I know the city shall be,
I know its gardens will bloom,
When people such as these
Exist in the Soviet land!
No way shall “people such as these” build any kind of “garden city” if they can’t even build themselves a clean canteen and keep bread out of the rain, but prefer to sit meekly in the mud. These are no legendary heroes of yesteryear, conquerors of great natural forces, but prisoners, if not de jure then de facto.
Heroism is an extremely cruel phenomenon in itself, for it is rooted in self-sacrifice, but when raised to the level of state ideology it also becomes absurd. Nature is not kind to heroes; there cannot be many of them in any nation at any time. What, then, is the “mass heroism” so persistently preached by the system, other than a mass and far-from-voluntary sacrifice? Simply speaking, it is mass murder—just as “conquering Nature” merely denotes its barbaric destruction. Only much later did the people of that time realize, with hindsight, that the superhuman and the inhuman are but two sides of the same coin. While some few burned with genuine fervor, others shook with fear, and in the meantime cynical demagogues continued their climb to power and perished in subsequent purges. This generation was reduced to ashes, destroyed itself in backbreaking labor, perished in camps, laid down its life on the front of “class struggle,” and always to no avail. Their sacrifice was senseless: the mighty canals and dams turned rivers into evil-smelling bogs, and the gigantic industrial complexes turned once-fertile lands into deserts, as if Nature, that eternal “enemy of the people”, retaliated by wiping out their grandiose schemes.
The absurdity also lay in that heroic impulses, just like any emotional outbursts, are easily inspired but impossible to control and, moreover, to direct exclusively to the benefit of the state. The “Soviet man” the system intended to create was impossible by definition, just as there can be no such thing as an obedient rebel, a conformist revolutionary, or a cowardly hero. Hence the popular outbursts, brawls, and criminality on one hand, and the endless make-believe lies on the other. The country cannot order anyone to become a hero at certain hours of the day and in certain circumstances. If you were raised from childhood to revere the example of someone who throws himself in front of an enemy machine gun or a young girl who dies in one of Hitler’s torture chambers without betraying her comrades, it is almost impossible to equate these examples with the atmosphere of lies and malicious denunciations in which you have to live.
In any event, romantic propaganda must have posed serious problems to the work of the chekists. For example, it is amazing to learn that some people actually managed to endure the abovementioned Khabarovsk “mill” without breaking before either the “Soviet” or the “Japanese” side despite weeks under torture, so the chekists ended up shooting them without trial in order to sweep the situation under the carpet. Such a stupendously heroic act at the infernal “mill” sends shivers up one’s spine (4 October 1956*, St 1061, p. 5):
On 21 November 1947, [ethnic Chinese] Soviet citizen Yan-Lin-Puo, who worked as a cook at the “FB” [false border post, the official title of the fictitious “Japanese Military Mission] became so incensed by the lawlessness in that place that he smashed all the dishes and destroyed all kitchen implements of Japanese manufacture. Department head Popov and unofficial collaborator Chu-Tsin-Lin, fearing that Yan-Lin-Puo might flee across the border, shot the latter.
Even those two unfortunate people mentioned in Frenkel’s report, who jumped to their deaths from the investigation rooms in Kuybyshev, also committed an act of heroism, exposing chekist lawlessness at the cost of their own lives. And how many of them were there, those who did not surrender, did not break, died biting and scratching with no hope of even the grateful memory of their descendants? History has not preserved their names, all we have are the legends, but it was purely due to them that such evil, which had become a generally accepted norm, did not engulf the whole world.
Strange as it may sound, the war brought a certain degree of normality into the paranoid ravings of the 1930s. At least there was now a real enemy, a real threat to the lives of loved ones, and thus a fully understandable need to risk one’s life to save them. Yet the same concern was the reason for the success of Stalin’s patriotic propaganda, which infected the wartime and postwar generations with the virus of heroism. We grew up knowing nothing but war, ruination, and death, knowing from babyhood how to sell our life more dearly:
And in basements and semibasements
Children dreamed of fending off tanks69
Yes, it was probably not just the propaganda. Sometimes I think that we must have been born with some secret aim embedded in our genes. It seems as if the nation made a desperate last-ditch effort to survive, and brought forth a generation of kamikazes which, should Hitler have reached Siberia at least, would have torn his hordes to shreds. Europe was endlessly lucky that the war was over by the time we grew up. But it ended, and the snotty-nosed kamikazes lived on, bitterly disappointed that they had not fired a single shot and incapable of anything else.
The consequences were catastrophic for the regime. On one hand, the country was swamped in criminal romanticism, which, despite all attempts to stem it, remained the prevalent “ideology” of young people, and in the end overcame communist teachings. Making all allowances for postwar confusion, fatherlessness, and so on, the antistate direction of this impulse is clear: all the “romantics” left “the yards and alleyways as thieves” and not Komsomol volunteers on communist construction objects. Those who ended up in the camps were subjected to the fiercest of reprisals. “Juveniles,” comprising almost 40 percent of prisoners in 1956, were completely uncontrollable, according to the findings of all the commissions sent by a frightened CC to sort out this phenomenon (22 August 1956, St 21/4).
On the other hand, wartime heroism awoke a spirit of rebellion among the people. Riots broke out in the camps and outside them, shaking the very foundations of the system. Change would have been inevitable even if Stalin had lived longer, although his death was certainly a turning point. Among other things, the wave of uprisings in Eastern Europe, and especially the Hungarian Revolution of 1956, was definitely connected with this occurrence and electrified the atmosphere in the Soviet Union itself. It fell to our contemporaries in Budapest, not us, to fling themselves under tanks, which earned them our sympathies. I think that of all the 1,416 sentenced in 1958 under article 70 mentioned by Andropov,70 the majority went to prison “for Hungary,” as it was called in those days. Leafleting, arson, and simple refusal to take part in elections became widespread occurrences (5 March 1957, 465-S).
The intelligentsia livened up, too, especially the scientific circles—in physicists, the microbe of free thought had not been completely eradicated, even under Stalin. The then head of the KGB, Serov, reported to the Central Committee in 1957 (19 December 1957*):
“Landau71 has gathered a group of theoretical physicists from a number of anti-Soviet and nationalistically inclined Jewish academics.”
It is interesting to read this report now, thirty-five years later; it is comprised mainly of Lev Landau’s statements, overheard by the chekists and quite typical in the circles of the intelligentsia at the time:
Identifying rebels with the Hungarian people and the working class, he characterizes events in Hungary as the “Hungarian revolution,” as “a very positive, admirable event” in which “stalwart people” are fighting for freedom.
“… The Hungarian revolution—this means practically the entire Hungarian nation that has risen up against its subjugators, i.e., against a small Hungarian clique, and mainly against ours.
“… The real descendants of great revolutionaries of all times…. What they have just shown is deserving of emulation. I am prepared to bend the knee to Hungary.”
Commenting on the policies of the Soviet government regarding this matter, he declares:
“… Our lot have decided to spatter themselves with blood.
“… We have criminals ruling the country.”
On 12 November 1956, during a discussion in his apartment regarding our actions in Hungary, he answered his interlocutor’s remark that “if Lenin were to rise from his grave, his hair would stand on end.” Landau replied:
“On the other hand, Lenin also had his hand in the till. Think of the Kronstadt uprising. A dirty business. The working class of Petrograd and the seamen in Kronstadt rose up. They had the most democratic of demands, and all they got was bullets… it’s a fascist system.
“… The first thing to happen back in October 1917 was a transfer of power over several months. It was given over fully into the hands of the party apparatus. The party issued an immediate dispensation: steal what was stolen and keep it for yourself. They did everything very methodically.
“… It was not an error, it contained an idea. This was the basis of the revolution.”
In answer to the question: “So that means the idea is depraved?”—Landau responded: “Of course.”
“… I believe that while this system exists, there is no sense in fostering hopes that it will lead to something decent, there never was such a hope, in a way it’s even laughable. I’m not counting on it.
“… There is now an opportunity I had never imagined, the possibility of a revolution in the country. Just a year ago it seemed nonsensical to think of a revolution here, but it is not so far-fetched now. It will happen, it’s not an absurdity.”
Yes, this is exactly what we thought at the time, that was how we felt, from adolescents to academicians. It was this belief, and not the “liberalism” of the leadership that nurtured the “thaw.” This was the foundation of our movement, our struggle against the sudden onset of winter, the sense of which is incomprehensible to those who have not lived under constant strain, did not hear the roar of the state’s infernal machine with their own ears, did not have childhood dreams of jumping under tanks.
As for the leaders, all of them from Khrushchev to Gorbachev strove only to smother this spark of hope, justifiably seeing it as a threat to their power. To them, Stalin’s time was always a “golden age,” a time they did not wish to remember outside the boundaries of official legends. Even thirty years down the road their only regret was that Khrushchev rocked the boat too much in the heat of the struggle for power (12 July 1984*, Pb). How they yearned to rewrite history, to strike out any mention of zigzagging “thaws,” how they missed the former clarity of the Leader and Teacher, his firm hand and his eagle eye gazing into the future!
MEETING OF THE POLITBURO CC CPSU 12 July 1984
[Konstantin] CHERNENKO. In addition to the agenda I would like to inform you of certain letters I have received.
As you know, we have reached a decision concerning one letter. This was V.M. Molotov’s72 request concerning his reinstatement in the ranks of the CPSU. I have received Molotov and talked with him. He greeted our decision with great joy and almost shed a tear. Molotov said that this decision was like his rebirth. Molotov is 93 years old now, but he looks sufficiently spry and speaks clearly. He said that the Politburo of the Central Committee maintains and continues the work that the party conducted so diligently. The only bad thing is that you, like us before you, work until all hours. Molotov stated that he is interested in the press and reads periodical publications. His words were: you are doing everything right, and for this you have the support of the people.
[Dmitry] USTINOV. Coming from him, this is a valuable assessment.
CHERNENKO. Molotov said that he does not understand people who join the opposition due to some personal grievance. He said that he had reached an understanding of his own errors and drawn the relevant conclusions. After our discussion Viktor Vasilyevich Grishin returned his party ticket to Molotov at the city committee headquarters.
[NIKOLAI] TIKHONOV. On the whole, we did right to reinstate him in the party.
CHERNENKO. But on the heels of this, the CC CPSU received similar letters from Georgy Malenkov and Lazar Kaganovich, also a letter from [Alexander] Shelepin in which he claims that he was a consistent opponent of Khrushchev and sets out a number of requests. Allow me to read Kaganovich’s letter. [Reads letter.] A letter of analogous content was received from Malenkov, with an admission of his errors.
TIKHONOV. Maybe we should do nothing with these letters for the time being?
CHERNENKO. We can put these letters aside for the time being, but agree to consider them after the XXVII Party Congress.
USTINOV. In my opinion, we should reinstate Malenkov and Kaganovich in the party. After all, they were prominent figures, leaders. I say straight out that if it were not for Khrushchev, they would not have been expelled from the party. Furthermore, there would not have been such scandalous outrages that Khrushchev allowed regarding Stalin. Whatever anyone may say—Stalin is our history. Not a single enemy brought us so much trouble as Khrushchev with his policies concerning the past of our party and state, and with regard to Stalin too.
[Andrei] GROMYKO. I think that these two should be reinstated in the party. They were part of our leadership and the government, were responsible for various sectors of work for many years. I doubt that they were unworthy. Khrushchev’s main concern was to decide questions concerning cadres, and not expose errors committed by individual persons.
TIKHONOV. Perhaps we should return to this matter at the end of the year or the beginning of next year?
[VIKTOR] CHEBRIKOV. I would like to report that for some time now Western radio stations have been talking about Molotov’s reinstatement in the party. Moreover, they claim that up to the present time, the workers of our country and party know nothing about it. Maybe we should place a notice about Molotov’s reinstatement in the party in the Information Bulletin of the CC CPSU?
As for the matter of reinstating Malenkov and Kaganovich in the party, I would ask that we take some time to prepare a report on the resolutions written by these people on lists of the repressed. In the event of their reinstatement, we can expect a significant stream of letters from those rehabilitated in the 1950s who, naturally, will be opposed to their reinstatement in the party, especially Kaganovich. We must be prepared for this. I am sure that such a report should be taken into account by the Politburo CC upon reaching a final decision.
TIKHONOV. Yes, if it were not for Khrushchev, they would not have been expelled from the party. He smeared us and our policies in the eyes of the whole world.
CHEBRIKOV. Furthermore, under Khrushchev a number of persons were unlawfully rehabilitated. The truth is that they had been punished quite deservedly.
MIKHAIL GORBACHEV. I think there is no need to publish anything in the Information Bulletin of the CC CPSU regarding Molotov’s reinstatement in the party. The department organizing party work can send operational advice about this to regional party committees.
As for Malenkov and Kaganovich, I am also in favor of their reinstatement in the party. There is probably no need to tie this in with the date of the forthcoming party congress.
[Grigory] ROMANOV. Yes, they are very old, they could easily die soon.
USTINOV. In the matter of assessing Khrushchev’s activities I stand fast, as they say, to the death. He did us a great deal of harm. Just think of what he did to our history, to Stalin.
GROMYKO. In the eyes of the external world, he inflicted an irreparable blow on the positive image of the Soviet Union.
USTINOV. It is no secret that the Westerners have never liked us. But Khrushchev furnished them with arguments and materials that have besmirched us for many years to come.
GROMYKO. In fact, it is thanks to this that the so-called “Eurocommunism” was born.
TIKHONOV. And what did he do with our economy? […]
GORBACHEV. What about the party, which he split into industrial and rural party organizations!
USTINOV. […]
In connection with the 40th anniversary of the victory over fascism, I would suggest addressing another question, as to whether we should rename Volgograd back to Stalingrad. Millions of people would welcome this. However, this is a matter for consideration, as they say.
GORBACHEV. This suggestion has both positive and negative aspects.
TIKHONOV. In a recent good documentary film, Marshal Zhukov, Stalin is portrayed quite fully and well.
CHERNENKO. I saw it. It is a good film.
USTINOV. I must make a note to see it.
CHERNENKO. As for Shelepin, his request centers on receiving benefits equal to those of former Politburo members.
USTINOV. In my opinion, he is quite adequately provided for with what he was granted upon retirement. He should not be making such requests.
CHERNENKO. I think that at the moment we can limit ourselves to an exchange of views. But you realize that we shall have to get back to these matters.
TIKHONOV. We hope you have an enjoyable vacation, Konstantin Ustinovich.
CHERNENKO. Thank you.
We were always told: “There are far too few of you. What influence can you have?” And we always agreed: yes, we are few. In answering questions about the possible number of participants of the movement or the number of political prisoners, we preferred to decrease rather than increase the figures. Sorry—that’s how many there are. Such is our society, such is our country, that no more willing figures came forward. Nowadays, when I am asked, this is what I reply, especially to my contemporaries, with the added comment, “If you had joined us, that would have been one more.”
But they always find a host of weighty reasons, explaining convincingly why they simply could not do so.
We also answered that the issue was not one of numbers or even practical results, but the principle of the inner freedom and moral responsibility of man. It should be a normal need, just like the need to breathe, eat, move.73 But this was something nobody wanted to hear. There had already been too much philosophy in our lives, and too few practical results. It was far too intricate: For your own benefit, you have to reject normal life, forgo a career, go to prison? So where is the benefit?
It is amazing, nonetheless, that in the face of such hopelessness, after so many decades of terror that seemed to have driven all the humanity out of people, it emerged that there were more of us than we could have dreamed, and our effect on the regime was much greater than we’d thought. It was enough to take just a cursory glance through the documents of the Central Committee to see this. Their sheer volume was incredible. The KGB informed the CC of everything, even the most trivial things about our movement, and the CC, or even the Politburo, had to reach decisions concerning every minute detail. Not just our arrests, court hearings, exiles, house searches, but even the pettiest operational information had the attention of these fifteen very elderly and extremely busy people, as this report by KGB head Andropov to his CC colleagues shows (31 July 1967*, 1931-A):
Information has been received that candidate of biological sciences Zhores MEDVEDEV, residing in the city of Obninsk in the Kaluga region and employed by the Institute of Radiology, acting together with his close friend Valery PAVLINCHUK, has begun to make typewritten copies of A. SOLZHENITSYN’S unpublished novel The First Circle for purposes of disseminating it among academics in Obninsk. For this reason, scientific employee of the Institute of History of the Academy of Sciences of the USSR Pyotr Ionovich YAKIR, known to be a participant in a number of antisocial manifestations and author of politically detrimental pronouncements, plans to travel to Obninsk. In view of the fact that SOLZHENITSYN’S novel The First Circle is a politically pernicious work, receipt of its copies by P.I. YAKIR warrants his detention and confiscation of such copies and instructing the Obninsk city committee of the CPSU to take measures to put an end to Zh. Medvedev’s antisocial activity. I request consideration of this matter.
And they did look into it. The word Agreed is written by hand in the margins, followed by the signatures of Mikhail Suslov, Boris Ponomarev, Andrey Kirilenko… incredible! Even all of our samizdat was forwarded to them by Andropov (11 June 1968*, 1372-A):
Operational measures have established that [Pavel] LITVINOV, [Natalya] GORBANEVSKAYA, YAKIR and certain like-minded persons have produced and are circulating a document entitled “Human Rights Year in the Soviet Union” (copy attached) containing slanderous accounts of court cases in Moscow and Leningrad and brief contents of letters and appeals discrediting the Soviet bodies of power and government. Submitted for your information.
Just try, in those times, to have your complaint read by a member of the Politburo! Hopeless. Everything got stuck within the apparatus, and was forwarded to the people you were complaining about. And now the complaint not only had to be read but required a decision. A miracle indeed! The most effective method of making the authorities think. And this was only samizdat and operational measures. Our arrests, trials, and sentences made them argue occasionally, reserve decisions for additional review of the problem, return to it several times. These people worked, thought, decided. They did not sign anything automatically. I was almost touched to see that the entire Politburo met to consider whether to publish a small piece in Evening Moscow [Vechernaya Moskva] after my trial in 1967 (4 September 1967*, Pb 1393). As Andropov reported to the CC:
In addressing the court the accused Bukovsky, whose crime lay primarily in the organization of an antisocial demonstration, attempted to cast a political light on the trial, declaring the actions of the authorities and the court to be unconstitutional, and conducted himself throughout with the clear intention of gaining mention in the foreign press as a victim of political persecution rather than an antisocial criminal. […] Due to the circumstance that Western reports concerning this trial have distorted its essence, it would appear feasible to publish a short piece on the matter in the Evening News (attached).
The attached fourteen-line draft of the piece was headed “In the Moscow City Court.” The intention was to state that I had pleaded guilty and, consequently, all rumors of any kind regarding my address to the court amounted to nothing more than false bourgeois propaganda. Nothing more, nothing less than another small lie in the cause of socialism. Yet they did meet, they did discuss the matter, they voted on it. The results of the vote are appended: Brezhnev for, Kirilenko for, Kosygin on vacation, Kirill Mazurov no comment, Arvids Pelse for, Suslov on vacation.
It emerges that there were some unpleasant disagreements among them. For example, there were documents concerning trials of demonstrators protesting the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968. Pack them off to the camps and throw away the key. Yet even in this instance, things were far from simple: Pavel Litvinov’s grandmother, widow of Maxim Litvinov, the erstwhile people’s commissar for international relations, who was a longtime acquaintance of Mikoyan, appealed to the latter (4 September 1968*) to keep her grandson out of prison. Mikoyan forwarded her letter to Brezhnev, with a handwritten annotation: “Leonid Ilyich! May I request your attention. To conduct a court case that, as they say, ‘is in the pipeline,’ against Litvinov’s grandson and others would simply supply our enemies with ammunition. They have already served their time. In this instance, it would be wiser to merely issue a warning. A. Mikoyan. 13/IX.”
Below this Brezhnev wrote, “Advise the members of the Politburo,” which is followed by the signatures of the members. Not bad going. Even though the trial did take place eventually, Litvinov and two more of the accused were not sent to the camps, but into internal exile, although this penalty was not envisaged under the article in question.
There are many thousands of such documents—thousands of hours of work. Even if we had achieved no more, we had sapped some strength from the governing machine, distracted its attention from global revolution. Such intense interest by the authorities in our activities was not a manifestation of paranoia. They were perfectly aware of the danger posed to them by our very existence, because they were under no illusion regarding the people’s love of their rulers. In a totalitarian system, even one dissident is dangerous, especially if that system has proclaimed itself to be perfect. Nobody can be dissatisfied in the socialist paradise: according to Marxist ideology they could not exist, especially fifty years down the road after the revolution.
Therein lay the fundamental dilemma of the communist authorities: on the one hand, the number of dissatisfied people—dissidents, to say nothing of open enemies of the regime—should have continued to decrease over the course of the “building of socialism,” and repressing them would have been counterproductive; on the other hand, allowing political opponents—in view of widespread public dissatisfaction—was downright dangerous. This accounts for the tactic of lowering the numbers of political prisoners while simultaneously increasing pressure on dissidents: the aim was to break the dissidents’ spirit, to “disarm them ideologically,” and in later times even throwing them out of the country in order to avoid imprisoning them. They referred to this practice under the tortuous label of “prophylactic work on averting crimes.”
By such means, the number of political prisoners did not reflect the prevailing mood in the country but was merely a confirmation of human endurance; as a rule, those who broke were not imprisoned. Allowing for this, we were not so few after all. Ensuing from the abovementioned report by Andropov to the CC in December 1975 (29 December 1975*, 3213-A), the number of those sentenced solely for anti-Soviet agitation and propaganda between 1958 and 1967 amounted to 3,448 persons, and from 1967 to 1975, 1,583 persons. From subsequent reports by the KGB to the CC, it emerges that all efforts and “prophylactic measures” aimed at achieving a substantial decrease were to no avail: in the period from 1977 to 1987, 905 persons were sentenced.74 (Figures for 1976 were not found.) Moreover, these only concerned the people the regime was forced to identify openly as its political opponents, not including those relegated to psychiatric institutions, exiled abroad, sentenced for attempts at illegal crossing of borders or treason, or sentenced on “religious” and fabricated criminal grounds. Of these we simply know nothing.
It appears that in the entire post-Stalin period, they failed to break at least six thousand people. Even in the wave of Gorbachev’s “releases,” when prisoners were freed in exchange for a promise to desist from any further “antisocial” activity, there were still 233 people held in prisons and camps, 55 in various exiles, 10 being held under “religious” articles, 96 in psychiatric incarceration, 31 released from imprisonment, and 51 not finally prosecuted—in all, 476 individuals.
The numbers were not the main issue. The very fact of the existence of people who had openly challenged totalitarian enslavement and stood fast before the fury of the state had enormous moral significance for the country. This is probably akin to the significance for a religious believer caught up in worldly squalor of knowing that in some monastery there are mortals like him who “live by truth.” And this knowledge may enable him to resist occasional temptations. In any event, that something like that was the case was evident in the attitudes of both our jailers and genuine criminal prisoners toward us. I shall never forget how the local criminal godfather of the camp in which I was the only political prisoner gathered all the thieves prior to his transfer elsewhere and issued his final orders. At the end he poked me with a finger and said severely: “Look after this one. We’re all here for something each one of us did, but he’s here for the good of everyone.”
It is amazing that decades of communism had not managed to destroy such ideas in people. As for the guards, they regarded us with almost superstitious awe. Invariably, even in Vladimir Prison, there would be at least one who would agree to post an illegal letter or pass a note into another cell. Considering the volume and detail of information that Western radio stations were able to air at that time, one can only guess how our incarceration in, say, that same Vladimir Prison affected the population of that city. Especially during our hunger strikes and other strikes. It was probably for this reason that no regional party committee would agree to have us on their territory, inventing all sorts of reasons to get rid of us, while the CC had no idea how to relocate us (17 March 1978*, 492-Ch). Debates on this matter dragged on for years. The following was written to the CC by both Chebrikov and Schelokov:
The Ministry of Internal Affairs [MVD] of the USSR and the KGB under the Council of Ministers of the USSR support the proposal of the Vladimir regional party committee of the CPSU regarding the transfer of particularly dangerous state criminals from prison No. 2 of the Administration of the Vladimir regional executive authority to another corrective labor institution of the Ministry of Internal Affairs.
The question of relocating particularly dangerous state criminals was considered by our departments in 1977. At that time, with allowance for the reasons advanced in the note of the regional party committee of the CPSU in Vladimir, it was deemed feasible to relocate the indicated prisoners (their numbers vary between 40 to 60) to prison No. 4 of the MVD of the Tatar ASSR (Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic). It was also borne in mind that there are no military or other important objects in the city of Chistopol, where prison No. 4 is located. Chistopol is 144 km from the city of Kazan, is far removed from any of the country’s large industrial or cultural centers and has no sufficiently developed means of transport to other districts. Prison No. 4 was built back in the XVIII century and is unconnected with the past imprisonment of revolutionaries and other progressive figures….
It stands to reason that from a numerical point of view, this was merely the tip of the iceberg. An idea of the actual situation can be gleaned from the data of the chekists’ “prophylactic work” (16 November 1972*, Pb 67/XVIII):
Pursuant to the instructions of the CC CPSU, agencies of the KGB are conducting wide-scale prophylactic work for the prevention of crimes, countering efforts aimed at attempts to organize subversive activities by nationalistic, revisionist and other anti-Soviet elements, and also pinpointing groups of a politically detrimental nature in various locations. Over the past 5 years, 3096 such groups have been exposed, 13602 of their participants have undergone prophylaxis, including: 2196 participants of 502 groups in 1967, 2870 participants of 625 groups in 1968, 3130 participants of 733 groups in 1969, 3102 participants of 709 groups in 1970 and 2304 participants of 527 groups in 1971.
Similar groups were uncovered in Moscow, Sverdlovsk, Tula, Vladimir, Omsk, Kazan, Tyumen, in Ukraine, Latvia, Estonia, Belorussia, Moldavia, Kazakhstan and other places.
The measures undertaken have resulted in a significant decrease in the number of annual arrests for anti-Soviet agitation and propaganda.
Most of those who have undergone prophylaxis reached the correct conclusions, returned to constructive participation in social life and work, and engaged conscientiously in assigned industrial and employment activity. However, some of them continue to perform actions that under certain conditions may become criminal and inflict considerable damage on the interests of our state.
In order to increase the preventive influence on persons attempting to enter the path of committing particularly dangerous crimes, and also enable the more decisive prevention of undesirable manifestations by antisocial elements, it is deemed feasible, in case of necessity, to permit the agencies of the KGB to issue official written warnings in the name of the authorities, demanding the cessation of such dangerous political activity and clarification of the possible consequences for the continuation of such activity.
In our opinion this would raise the moral responsibility of persons undergoing prophylaxis, and in the event of their committing criminal activity and facing criminal charges, would be important for assessing the criminal’s personality by bodies conducting the preliminary investigation and the courts.
Naturally, their request was granted. And the relevant Order of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR appeared on 25 December 1972. Yet despite all the efforts of the chekists, domestic opposition continued to grow. Thus, three years after the promulgation of this order, Andropov reported (29 December 1975*, 3213-A), “For the period of 1971–1974, 63,108 persons went through prophylaxis. For the same period, the activities of 1839 anti-Soviet groups were exposed at the formation stage through prophylaxis.”
It emerges that the average annual number of the latter did not decrease at all, while the number of those subjected to “prophylaxis” increased tenfold. But this was still not all, because the KGB did not subject all active enemies to “prophylaxis.” Andropov continues in the same report:
Alongside prophylactic measures, operative and other measures unconnected with criminal prosecution were and are employed. We have been able to break up a number of nationalistic, revisionist and other anti-Soviet groups while they were still forming. Compromising these bodies inspiring antisocial behavior enabled the prevention of undesirable consequences in a number of places in the country. Such measures as depriving certain individuals of Soviet citizenship and expulsion abroad also proved worthwhile. … Furthermore, the operational situation was improved by the issue of exit permits for numerous extremists to emigrate from the Soviet Union to Israel.
So were we many, or few? Andropov considered that among the adult population that had gone through the war alone, “the number of such people amounts to hundreds of thousands.” I believe he underestimated their numbers greatly. For example, his reports hardly mention those peoples “punished” (exiled under Stalin) nor religious movements, especially in terms of proscribed denominations and confessions. Yet these amounted to millions of people, for whom the Soviet Union was a prison, and our contacts with them developed from the 1960s. Andropov reported to the CC (10 June 1968*, 1342-A):
The KGB has received operative information that in discussion with one of his friends, [Pyotr] GRIGORENKO stated that he was aware of the alleged intention of representatives of Crimean ‘autonomists’ to send an appeal to the UN signed by 250,000 Tatars, requesting support for their demands. Approving of this action, GRIGORENKO predicts that it will elicit ‘an enormous response.’ The Committee for State Security is implementing all necessary measures to prevent possible hostile actions by nationalistically inclined Crimean Tatars and other antisocial elements.
Or here is another example of the time:
The Committee for State Security has received information regarding the intention of individual German extremists residing in Kazakhstan and Moldavia (12 June 1975*, 1482-A) to inspire Soviet citizens of ethnic German origin to stage group refusals to participate in elections to the republican Supreme Soviets on 15 June 1975 and local elections to the Councils of workers’ deputies, if their demands for emigration to the Federal Republic of Germany are not met. … At the same time, on the days preceding the elections, “activists” of the so-called “movement for the emigration of Germans to the [Federal Republic of Germany]” in Moldavia organized a collective visit to the republican MVD USSR and the KGB (70 persons), demanding approval of their applications to leave the USSR, and extremists in Kazakhstan produced a number of slanderous appeals to international organizations with collective signatures, and attempted to send their representative to Moscow for the purpose of handing this material to foreign journalists or dispatch to the West via A. SAKHAROV. … Measures taken at the Dzhambul station on 7 June 1975 resulted in the confiscation of “appeals” to the UN, the Geneva Conference, the chancellor of the FRG and other addressees from one TERMER, in the name of 900 families of ethnic Germans (more than 6,000 persons), which contained tendentious information regarding the situation of Germans in the USSR and requests for assistance in emigrating to the FRG.
So life in the USSR may have only seemed serene and carefree to Western politicians; their Soviet counterparts were perfectly aware of the volcanic crater on whose edge they perched. The empire was straining at the seams long before the appearance of Gorbachev, as Andropov reported (30 December 1980*, St 243/8):
“Negative processes have been noted in a specific part of the indigenous population of the Karachay-Cherkess autonomous region, characterized by nationalistic, anti-Russian feelings. This has caused antisocial manifestations and criminal acts. Measures are being taken for their prevention and termination.”
The issues here were killings and mass unrest.
Tatars and Germans, Jews and Baltic peoples, Ukrainians and Moldavians fought for their national identities by all available means. But all the threads from the far-flung parts of that vast country led to Moscow, where all our channels of contact with the external world were, our glasnost. To them we served as an inspiration, an exemplary and organizing factor. So Andropov had good reason for concern. How could the Politburo not monitor every breath we took?
In the end, those engaged in the most “passive” forms of resistance—proscribed religious communities, disseminators of samizdat, authors of anonymous protests—were the most numerous. How could we possibly determine how many people were involved in this activity? Even the KGB couldn’t come up with a final figure. Let’s say that it is possible to quantify persecution on religious grounds; on average, probably some two or three hundred people a year were imprisoned and another ten thousand underwent “prophylaxis,”75 but it is impossible to establish the total number of religious believers, just as it is impossible to establish how many read, copied, and shared samizdat with their friends. It would have been millions at least. Therefore the Politburo also had to read these materials; it was necessary to know what millions of people were reading in the country they subjugated, in which not a single comma could be typed on a label without censorship.
The question of samizdat was of serious concern to the leadership; in 1971 alone, the matter was discussed three times by the Central Committee, and the CC was to return to this issue in every subsequent year. In December 1970 (15 January 1971*, St 119/11) Andropov reported the following:
An analysis of the so-called “samizdat” literature circulating among the intelligentsia and students shows that in recent years “samizdat” has undergone qualitative changes. Five years ago the materials going from hand to hand were mainly ideologically slanderous works of fiction, but now the greatest turnover relates to documents of a schematic political nature. In the period from 1965 more than 400 various investigative studies and articles have appeared on economic, political and philosophical themes, in which the historical experience of socialist construction in the Soviet Union is criticized from all angles, which revise the internal and external policies of the CPSU and offer all kinds of programs for opposition activity….
… There is a certain consolidation of fellow thinkers on the basis of the production and dissemination of “samizdat” literature, and noticeable attempts at the creation of something akin to an opposition.
Around the end of 1968 to the beginning of 1969, opposition-minded elements came together in a political core named the “democratic movement,” which, by their estimation, is endowed with the three signs of an opposition: “it has leaders, activists, and depends on a significant number of sympathizers; without taking on the clear form of an organization, it sets itself definite aims and selects specific tactics; strives for the achievement of legality.” …
… The centers of distribution of uncensored materials remain Moscow, Leningrad, Kiev, Gorky, Novosibirsk and Kharkov. In these and other cities, some 300 persons have been identified as calling themselves “anti-Stalinists,” “fighters for democratic rights” and “members of the democratic movement” and engaging in the production of individual documents and miscellanies—the Chronicle of Current Events,76 Ukrainian Herald, Social Problems and others. In 1970 a group of Zionist-minded elements in Moscow, Leningrad and Riga began issuing a journal entitled Exodus….
… The Committee for State Security is taking all necessary steps to put an end to the attempts of individual persons to use “samizdat” as a vehicle for slandering the Soviet state and social system. They are brought to book on criminal charges in accordance with current legislation, and persons who fall under their influence undergo prophylactic measures.
At the same time, bearing in mind the ideological transformation of “samizdat” into a form of expression of opposing moods and views, and the aim of imperialistic reactionaries to employ “samizdat” for purposes hostile to the Soviet Union, it would appear feasible to charge the ideological apparatus with the task of studying the problem and evolving the requisite ideological and political measures for neutralizing and exposing the antisocial leanings contained in “samizdat,” as well as proposals for identifying the factors that facilitate the appearance and dissemination of “samizdat materials.”
So in actual fact, the government already acknowledged us to be a political opposition and, irrespective of its seeming inviolability, was ready to adjust its line accordingly. It is quite another matter that by virtue of its senescence and ossification the regime was already incapable of political flexibility, and after half a year of work, the Central Committee finally passed the resolution “On Measures for Countering Illegal Dissemination of Anti-Soviet and Other Politically Harmful Materials,” an extremely senseless document that brought together all possible combinations of repressive and corrective-propagandist actions. The only concession was made in the last, ninth clause (28 June 1971, St 8/37):77
The Department of Culture of the CC CPSU, the Press Committee under the Council of Ministers of the USSR and the Union of Writers of the USSR are instructed to study the matter and submit suggestions regarding the feasibility of publishing certain works by authors who arouse the interest of some creative workers and students and whose works have not been republished in the USSR after the 1920s.
The result was, I believe, a publication of Nikolay Gumilyov’s poems, and that in a limited edition. For obvious reasons, this had no effect whatsoever on the growth of samizdat: it continued to expand, creating an alternative to the official press and giving Andropov headaches. New forms came into being—cinema samizdat, record samizdat, etc.—an alternative culture that weakened the control of the party over creative intelligentsia and particularly young people. Once again, Andropov sounded the alarm (19 May 1975, 1241-A):78
In the course of implementing measures aimed at the termination of hostile enemy actions, facts have emerged indicating that in circles of creatively gifted or ambitious young people wanting to prove themselves in this sphere there is a tendency to group on an unofficial basis, manifested in literary readings, exhibitions of art and graphics, staging of plays in private dwellings and randomly selected premises. There is a noticeable tendency toward the issue and circulation of typewritten journals, composed of unpublished works.
A study of the situation in such groupings in Moscow has shown that left to its own devices, part of the creative youth finds no socially useful application of its abilities and can take the path of undesirable developments which, as a rule, are inspired by persons engaged in antisocial activity, or by foreigners….
… Therefore, at present there is the danger of the emergence of ungovernable groupings of creative young people, existing alongside official creative associations.
It is a fact that this period saw such notorious events as the exhibition of nonconformist artists in Izmaylovsky Park,79 the attempt to establish a section of the International PEN (now PEN International) in Moscow,80 the institution of a Moscow chapter of Amnesty International (12 April 1975, 878-A), and, a little later, the appearance of the uncensored miscellany “MetrOpol” and the founding of the Helsinki Groups (social groups for monitoring observance of the Helsinki Accords) with all their commissions, committees, and working groups. Even the first independent trade union appeared at the end of 1977 (see 6 April 1978, 655-A). This was the beginning of the process of structural formation of the opposition, which probably coincided with the loss of control over young people, something that posed a particular threat to the regime.
In essence I do not recall that this control was ever effective, existing mainly on paper—in the reports of Komsomol and party committees concerning “blanket coverage” and propagandistic enterprises. However, toward the end of the 1960s and the beginning of the 1970s, young people became noticeably politicized. This was manifested mostly in anonymous protests—leaflets, graffiti on walls, displays of national flags in the republics, and anonymous letters addressed to the authorities. Any provocative event, such as a jubilee, a general holiday, the elections, was usually accompanied by such “outbursts of hooliganism” by young people. Andropov reported a case in point in April 1970 (27 April 1970*, 1118-A):
The jubilee celebrations marking the 100th anniversary of the birth of the founder of the Soviet State, V.I. Lenin, proceeded in an organized manner throughout the country, in an atmosphere of heightened activity, industrial and political enthusiasm of the Soviet people, demonstrating once again unshakeable popular unity and solidarity around the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. Nevertheless, 155 politically harmful acts of hooliganism in connection with the jubilee were recorded in certain areas of the country in the period of preparation and conduct of the celebrations. This includes 55 in 1969 and 100 in 1970.
Manifestations of this kind were also noted in Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Lithuania, Belorussia, Estonia, Moldavia, the Turkmen Soviet Socialist Republic, the Maritime and Khabarovsk districts, and the Moscow, Leningrad, Kuybyshev, Rostov and other regions. Actions of this kind by hooligan elements destroyed or damaged some statues, busts and bas-reliefs of the leader, a significant number of panels, stands and banners, as well as portraits, slogans, posters, reproductions, wall newspapers and other festive tributes.
[…]
70 persons were charged with committing crimes, 65 were ordered to undergo prophylaxis and 7 were detained for investigation for politically pernicious acts and hooliganism.
In 18 cases, these manifestations were particularly audacious and were aimed at casting a shadow over the Soviet people’s celebration of the 100th anniversary of the birth of V.I. Lenin.
And here is a typical report to the CC regarding the celebration of the First of May 1975 (4 May 1975*, 1103-A):
The First of May celebrations passed in a normal atmosphere and with great political enthusiasm throughout the country.
Nevertheless, certain negative manifestations were noted in some parts of the country.
Leaflets with hostile content were distributed in Moscow, Odessa, Kishinev and the Rostov region.
In the district center, Pustomyty, of the Lvov region, 13 flags of the union republics were burned near the monument to the soldier-liberators. Flags were also destroyed in Moscow and Kharkov. In the city of Grodno, a portrait of the founder of the Soviet State was defaced.
[…]
The relevant measures were taken with respect to the indicated acts.
Most of the persons perpetrating these hostile acts have been identified.
In fact, far from all perpetrators were usually identified—some 50 or 60 percent, of whom half would face “prophylaxis”; the rest would be imprisoned, customarily on criminal charges (such as hooliganism). With the inclusion of anonymous letters, such occurrences would amount to between ten and twenty thousand per annum throughout the country.81 More often than not, the “criminals” turned out to be young people, often adolescents and schoolchildren, who at times had already managed to create illegal organizations. Of course, we had no idea of the scope of such occurrences, nor did we ever hear anything about them. Still, without them the picture of the situation in the country and of its prevalent mood would be incomplete, just as the nervousness of the authorities could not be comprehended fully without this background.
Imagine how the CC must have felt receiving several reports such as this every day (19 March 1970*, 699-A):
The Administration of the KGB for the Krasnodar district uncovered an illegal “Club for the Struggle for Democracy” in Tuapse, comprised of 14 students in classes 8–9 of secondary school No. 3. Of these, 7 are members of the Komsomol.
[…] The members of this “Club” drew up a program and a charter, issued handwritten journals entitled “The Democrat” and “The Russian Contemporary,” containing poems and articles written by members of the “Club” based on the reports of Western radio stations. Each member swore an oath, had a pseudonym, a membership ticket and paid membership fees.
The program of the “Club” envisages the establishment of a party of “democrats” in the country and seizure of power once the members reach adulthood. Their immediate aim was the production and dissemination of documents with anti-Soviet content and the recruitment of new members. In carrying out this program, […] they chalked anti-Soviet graffiti on asphalt roads and fences in various places in Tuapse in December 1969 upon the 90th anniversary of the birth of Stalin. In February 1970 they produced more than 40 leaflets in the name of the “All-Russia Union of Democrats” containing a call for the overthrow of Soviet power and the formation of illegal political parties. These leaflets were distributed throughout the city.
All the members of the “Club for the Struggle for Democracy” are minors. In view of this, it was decided not to institute criminal charges, but limit the matter to enacting prophylactic measures.
The KGB Administration of the Sverdlovsk region uncovered an illegal youth group calling itself “The Free Russia Party” or “The Revolutionary Workers’ Party.” […]
Using a typewriter, the members of this group produced around 700 anti-Soviet leaflets in two shifts. … On 7 November 1969, a significant proportion of these leaflets were released from the viaduct over the Cosmonauts’ Prospect in Sverdlovsk onto the heads of the festive column from the electric trains repair works and a group of demonstrators from the Polytechnic and Law institutes.
(26 August 1970*, 2353-A):
In February 1970, seven handwritten leaflets were disseminated in the city of Ryazan , signed by the “Black Angels,” the authors of which slandered the Soviet government and called for the organization of strikes and demonstrations. It was established by the usual methods that the leaflets were produced and distributed by 9th grade pupils in Ryazan school No. 42. … They all repented, and in the presence of their parents promised the KGB that they would never again commit any antisocial acts.
The presence of such moods among the youth on one hand, and the growth of organized opposition on the other, created a situation in the country that was highly dangerous for the regime. The authors of a comprehensive study conducted by the KGB in 1976 (28 December 1976, St 37/14, p. 4), while trying to lay the blame for everything on the influence of bourgeois propaganda and Western “subversive centers,” records some extremely interesting data82 nonetheless. Out of 3,324 “antisocial manifestations” over a period of three years, there were 4,406 young people involved; 60.3 percent of these acts were committed by students and 22.4 percent by school pupils.
Seventy-two percent of these young people (3,174 individuals) acted alone, the remaining 1,232 individuals within the composition of 384 groups.83
Forms of manifestation Number of manifestations Persons
involvedExpressing slanderous and other politically damaging assertions 1509
45.4%1598
36.3%Participation in group actions violating public order 99
3.0%495
11.2%Participation in antisocial actions based on imitation of “hippies” 152
5.5%382
8.7%Production and dissemination of slanderous and ideologically pernicious documents (excluding leaflets) 252
7.6%323
7.3%Production and dissemination of leaflets, slogans, posters 167
5.0%277
6.3%Desecration of the state crest, flag, monuments, portraits 90
2.7%115
2.6%Verbal and written threats directed at the Soviet party apparatus 50
1.6%53
1.2%Transfer (attempts at transfer) of slanderous and ideologically pernicious materials abroad 26
0.8%33
0.8%Production and dissemination of anonymous letters with slanderous and ideologically pernicious content 33
1.0%32
0.7%Attempts to establish contact with foreign anti-Soviet centers 16
0.4%17
0.4%Production and display of nationalistic flags 6
0.2%15
0.3%Other manifestations 894
26.8%1066
24.2%Manifestations committed from capitalist positions, hostile to socialism, comprise 32.4% of the total number of manifestations.84 They were committed by 1,269 persons (29%).
Various forms of hostile ideology Number of manifestations Persons
involvedIdeology of bourgeois nationalism (except Zionism) 364
33.7%674
43%Zionist ideology and pro-Israeli sympathies 188
17.5%242
15%Ideology of revisionism and reformation 377
35%445
28%Religious ideology 88
8.2%128
8%Fascist and neo-Nazi ideology (views) 60
5.6%80
6%
Here we are talking about those who could (or dared to) formulate their ideological platform clearly. But those “without ideas” were no better.
The participants of groups of so-called hippie emulators in Moscow, Leningrad, Kiev, Vilnius, Tallinn, Rostov-on-Don, Odessa, and a number of other cities called for a review of the moral and ethical norms of socialist community life, questioned the revolutionary traditions of the past and the spiritual heritage of conservative forebears, and advocated overcoming inertia and struggling for the freedom and democratization of society on the basis of hippie ideas.
Around 40 percent of all those subjected to prophylaxis in the country in the years 1970 to 1974 were young people up to the age of 25.85 The same applied to criminality in general; for instance, more than half of those sentenced in 1971 through 1973 who were charged with the manufacture and sale of drugs were under the age of 29, while the numbers of those subjected to administrative measures for the consumption of alcohol and public intoxication were 2,533,443 young people in 1973 and 2,616,708 in 1974.86 On average, minors (those up to 18 years of age) committed around one hundred thousand crimes per year, of which 47 percent were committed by groups.
Similarly interesting information was contained in other studies cited in this report. Data from a study of “the audience of Western radio stations in Moscow,” conducted by the Department of Applied Social Studies of the Institute for the Study of Science of the Academy of Sciences of the USSR, indicate that:
To a greater or lesser degree of regularity, these radio stations are listened to by 80% of students and around 90% of senior secondary school pupils, state vocational schools and technical colleges. For the majority of these individuals, listening to foreign radio has become a habit (32% of students and 59.2% of senior school pupils listen to foreign broadcasts no less than once or twice a week.)87
This was also our audience, monitoring our activity through broadcasts from London, Munich and Washington, the very generation of thirty to forty-year-olds that took to the streets 15 years later.88
Many of the students that had undergone prophylaxis indicated in their replies that they taped radio broadcasts of ideologically hostile works, after which these recordings were disseminated on audio tapes or as typed texts. Among other things, this was the channel that provided them with information regarding a number of SOLZHENITSYN’s anti-Soviet declarations and libels, SAKHAROV’s treatise “Thoughts on peace, progress and intellectual freedom,” and various “studies,” “appeals” and other documents containing defamatory concoctions, slandering Soviet reality. […]
As for the degree of influence, the greatest is from materials produced illegally within the country.
At the same time, the authors note that there is a marked decline in interest in studying Marxist-Leninist theory in institutions of higher education as well as a decline in “passive participation of a certain part of the student body in the social and political life of collectives.” In a nutshell, there is every reason to affirm that by the 1970s the regime had practically lost the young people, and our influence on them grew by leaps and bounds. How could an ageing, bureaucracy-ridden party counter such a threatening turn of events? It had nothing to offer but repressions, “prophylaxis,”—that is, threats of further repressions—and a massive increase in its already despised propaganda. Reporting on work accomplished over several years prior to the collapse of the communist regime (26 December 1986*, 2521-Ch), KGB head Chebrikov, Procurator General Alexander Rekunkov, Minister of Justice Boris Kravtsov and the Chairman of the Supreme Court of the USSR Vladimir Terebilov proudly told the CC the following:
For purposes of exposing the subversive activity of imperialist special services and their allied hostile elements among Soviet citizens, much work has been accomplished with the aid of the media. Over the past ten years, 150 cinema and television films have been released with the use of materials provided by the security services (mainly short documentaries and newsreels); over four years, 262 books and brochures have been published, as well as 178 articles in journals and 250 in newspapers. Propaganda in the form of lectures is continuously devised by KGB personnel, the Procuracy and court and judicial bodies. Educational work with prisoners is conducted systematically and with social involvement, which yields its own positive results.
They were especially proud to report that over four years, from 1982 to 1986, they had managed to break more than a hundred people. This process was also overseen by the CC, which did not begrudge its valuable time. And when the time came to save their skins from inevitable doom, they were forced to introduce a controlled “glasnost,” beginning it with attempting to break the remaining zeks [prisoners], thus destroying the core of the opposition. This procedure was directed by Gorbachev personally.
“Honorable judges! Today is a very special day for me: for the first time in my life I appear in court not as an accused, but as a witness….”
The comical aspect of the situation was augmented by the fact that appearing in court for the first time in 1967 as the accused, I had spoken about the same things—about lawlessness, about the unconstitutional nature of the CPSU itself, and about the political repressions it perpetrated. It was all so similar, except that now, exactly twenty-five years later, I could have repeated my address word for word in the Constitutional Court of Russia, and nobody would have noticed any difference. I cannot help recalling how I prepared for that first “final word” to the court (prior to that I had been classed as insane twice, and was tried in absentia), how I managed to get hold of the legal codes from the administrators of Lefortovo Prison by threatening a hunger strike, and how I even forced them to buy a Constitution of the USSR, of which there was not a single copy in the investigative prison of the KGB. Then there was the official dreariness of the trial and the tense expectation of the end, when I was entitled to that “final word”—the only form of uncensored speech in the land at that time. (Yet who knew? They could simply interrupt, without letting me finish speaking. This was not unprecedented.) And finally—the culmination of the entire drama, when, waving the KGB copy of the Constitution, I was able to speak for almost one and a half hours, expecting to be pulled up short by the judge at any moment. So on the question of the unconstitutional nature of the CPSU I was a genuine expert. But if at that time this was considered slander against the state and social system of the USSR, it was now deemed state wisdom in the highest degree, supported by the authority of the president of Russia himself. So what was I to do—rejoice or grieve? Take pride in that I had preceded my contemporaries by a quarter of a century, or be perplexed that such a simple truth had not entered their heads two and a half decades earlier?
The emphatic nature of our movement in defense of rights always brought forth a mass of bewilderment and even censure. It was not that the fact of violation of their own laws by the communist authorities was a secret to anyone, but the idea of their observance was too complicated. On the contrary, it would have been hard to find someone in those years who was unaware of all the facts, who did not see them. But what for? What would be the point?
So what, you want to perfect the Soviet regime? sneered Soviet people, generally from the ranks of those who thought that we were “too few” to join.
Tell us, when will your movement finally stop citing Soviet laws and move to open action? asked those in the West, who had never lived under the heel of the regime.
There was never a way to explain to certain kinds of people that the movement for defense of rights is not mimicry, not a tactical ploy, but that just like the refusal to engage in violence or underground activity, it was the principle on which our position rested. Yet it was not the complexity of our position that was the problem. What complexity could there be when we had the painful example of the results of the former Russian revolution before our eyes every day?
How could anybody not realize, even in the 1960s, that violence does not lead to a lawful state, or the underground to a free society? Even from a more practical point of view, is it not obvious that if there is an insufficient number of people in the country capable of simply demanding what is their due under the law, you won’t be able to find an enormous number of valiant men ready to shoot the entire KGB, the party apparatus, and a goodly portion of the Soviet army? But if one fine day there is a sufficient number of people demanding their rights, there will be no need for firing squads.
In the end these were all excuses, self-justifications. A Soviet citizen was unable to force himself to demand something from a nuclear superpower. He could steal, but making demands stuck in his throat. Not all were even able to bring themselves to refuse to cooperate with the authorities. Someone had to do all this before their eyes, quite openly, even demonstratively, in order to dispel the mystical, irrational fear of the Soviet authorities, the halo of their omnipotence. In this sense nothing could be more destructive than a demonstration of the authorities’ lack of effectiveness on one hand, and their lawlessness on the other.
After all, what more could be done? Scattering leaflets or creating underground “parties” with a couple of friends was the province of schoolchildren, but even they understood that this was futile. What was needed was legal opposition that would be able to unite and foster independent social forces in the country. And legal means that respect the law and operate within its framework.
In the meantime, the regime had its own problems with the law, which it was unable to solve from the time of the revolution, and never solved. In the first place, because ideology in general and the Marxist-Leninist version in particular are incompatible with the concept of law. Ideology is a legend, a myth, and thus unavoidably inconsistent, while the entire sense of the law lies in its internal consistency. Communist practice was all the more inconsistent, being a compromise between ideology and reality. And what was “done” and what was not on any given day was known only at the top of the pyramid of power. It was necessary to know how to construe even secret instructions.
Let us move on. The task of ideology is to explain everything on earth in veiled concepts, not amenable to precise definition; the task of the law is to determine everything with maximum precision, leaving no loopholes. And how can these two things be reconciled? For instance, how can dialectical materialism be codified? The result would be something akin to the efforts of medieval scholars to calculate exactly how many angels can fit on the head of a pin.
But the main reason for the incompatibility of the law with ideology in a totalitarian state lies in that here ideology, not the law, must dominate by definition, and if ideology cannot rule through the law, then it becomes above the law, ruling from behind its back, as it were. Just as the party—the standard-bearer of the ideology—rules from behind the backs of other state structures and is a suprastate formation. Bearing in mind the global aims of this ideology (and with it, those of the party), the law simply transforms into a fiction, an offshoot of propaganda calculated to create an attractive image of “the world’s most democratic” socialist state. This was glaringly obvious in the example of the Stalinist constitution, written expressly for propagandistic purposes and therefore very convenient for us.
In practice, the law existed only on paper; the country was governed in accordance with an endless stream of departmental, state, and party instructions and resolutions, which were frequently contradictory and mainly confidential. To reduce all this to a single noncontradictory state was beyond even the party’s ability. “Telephone law” flourished; a call from a party boss would be the latest legislative act.
In all fairness it must be said that the ideology was just as incompatible with other areas of life such as economics and science, for the very same reasons. Initially the law was our weapon, simply because it was a weapon the authorities turned against us. And we, truth be told, honed it to perfection, to the state in which any trial of any one of us ended in the defeat of the authorities. So much so that unlike Stalin’s show trials, our trials were conducted in maximum secrecy, were concealed from the public as much as was physically possible, and mentioned in the press—if they were mentioned at all—merely in response to “the slurs of bourgeois propaganda.”
Undoubtedly it was not easy to achieve such a state of affairs; it required great stamina and precise conduct that demanded not simple incarceration, but incarceration “on one’s own terms,” with maximum detriment to the authorities, i.e., with maximum violation of the law on their part. For example, in 1967 I did not simply organize a demonstration and receive a sentence of three years—no, I solved the “theorem” of the unconstitutional nature of article 190-3 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR.89 This is exactly how the demonstration was calculated, as well as our future arguments under investigation and in the courts, so that the authorities could sentence us only in breach of the law, abandoning any semblance of legality. In the indicated case in breach of the Constitution, which guarantees freedom of demonstration.
I must say that in this instance, I managed really well. Even the head of Lefortovo Prison acknowledged openly that we had been imprisoned illegally, the Procuracy, citing glib and specious reasons, refused to conduct the case, and my KGB investigator could only shake his head and sigh dolefully. It was not surprising that the Politburo had to hold a meeting to decide whether to publish some elementary lies about this case in the papers. For me this fact is a kind of gold medal, or the award of a scientific diploma.
In all probability, generations that did not live in those times will find it hard to understand the practical significance of all this. The more so because we had practically no aims in the narrow, utilitarian sense—just like that Chinese man who smashed all the Japanese dishes at the Khabarovsk “mill.” None of us thought that the Soviet regime would be brought down by our trials, by samizdat, or by tiny, purely symbolic demonstrations. Nor did anybody count on the “improvement” of the regime. It was paradoxical that our movement, which exercised such a significant political influence, was not in fact political—it was moral. Our main stimulus was not a desire to remake the system, but a refusal of complicity in its crimes. Everything else developed later as a logical extension of this position.
In its turn, the position of noncompliance arose in public reaction to Stalin’s repressions, or rather to their partial, but still real, exposure under Khrushchev. The public, or in any case its better part, was tortured by the question, “How could such a monstrous crime have occurred? Who is to blame?” And the inevitable conclusion was that part of the blame lay on everyone, for practically everybody, voluntarily or involuntarily, passively or actively, was an accomplice. Not only those who executed and tortured, but also those who raised their hand at meetings and “unanimously approved” the massacres; not only those who issued orders, but also those who remained obediently silent.
Be silent and you’ll be a hangman.
Be silent, be silent, be silent….
Just as in postwar Germany, this had a particularly strong effect on new generations, which were not party to their fathers’ crimes; such is life that children always have to pay for the sins of their parents. And even though the Soviet leaders were never in the dock in Nuremberg, the verdict of this tribunal applied to us in full. Like our German contemporaries, we had to remember that neither the opinion of the surrounding majority, nor orders from superiors, nor even the threat to one’s life relieved us of the responsibility for our choice. But unlike them, for us it meant confrontation with our not-yet-demolished Reich, our own SS—with whom, alas, the entire Western world strove for “peaceful coexistence.”
So we could not dream of any practical aims. Probably nobody even tried to determine what could be considered a victory. Our task was making constant distinctions between the written law and its unwritten ideological interpretation, forcing the authorities to a broad exposure of its unlawful essence. It was better not to think of what it would mean for you personally. After all, the most you could get was the maximum term. For this reason, irrespective of practical results, you just had to do as much as you could to serve your sentence with a clear conscience. With time, this is how victory came to be seen—as the right to tell your descendants, I did everything I could.
Now, looking back over the Central Committee documents concerning our cases, I was simply amazed: just about any one of them could be placed on the table of a court, as if for many decades our movement had only occupied itself with preparing for this Constitutional Court trial of the CPSU. And this movement started, at least formally, with our first demonstration in 1965, under the slogan “Respect your constitution!”—and a demand for glasnost. You couldn’t make it up!90
At that time, in December 1965, we threw down our first gauntlet to the regime. The reason was the “case of [Andrei] Sinyavsky and [Yuli] Daniel,” which caused a great deal of noise—the case against two writers who had published their books clandestinely in the West. The curious aspect of the situation was that the country was expected, just as in Stalin’s times, “to condemn renegades and turncoats” without ever having laid eyes on their books. And here was the first appearance of that word glasnost. Our foremost “lawyer,” Alexander Esenin-Volpin, probably came across it in the Criminal Procedure Code of the Russian Federation in the section dealing with “publicity [glasnost in Russian] of judicial examination.”
Examination is open in all courts with the exception of cases that run counter to the interests of safeguarding state secrets.
[…]
In all cases, the sentences of the courts are publicly proclaimed.
The slogan would appear harmless to even the best-intentioned citizens: If you don’t let us read the books in question, then at the very least conduct a public trial over them, so that we can find out everything for ourselves.
This demand caught the authorities unprepared; nothing like this had happened in the past, that a Soviet citizen would demand anything at all. So they had to invent their own glasnost.
The head of the KGB, Vladimir Semichastny, and Procurator General Roman Rudenko wrote the following in a report to the CC dated 23 December 1965 (with which the CC agreed benignly), almost two months prior to the trial (23 December 1965, 2843-S):91
At present, the KGB, acting together with the Department of Culture of the Central Committee and the Union of Writers of the USSR, is preparing relevant publications for the press that shall expose the true nature of the “literary activity” of SINYAVSKY and DANIEL. In order to provide the public with more detailed information and put an end to similar activity by hostile individual elements, it seems feasible to try the case against SINYAVSKY and DANIEL in an open hearing of the Supreme Court of the RSFSR and sentence the criminals to imprisonment for the production and dissemination of literary works that contain slanderous allegations regarding the Soviet state and social system, under part 1 article 70 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR. It is planned to conduct the trial at the beginning of February 1966 under the chairmanship of Comrade L.N. [Lev Nikolayevich] SMIRNOV, the chairman of the Supreme Court of the RSFSR, with the participation of state prosecutor Comrade O.P. [Oleg Petrovich] TEMUSHKIN, assistant to the Procurator General of the USSR, in the courtroom for hearings of the Supreme Court of the RSFSR accommodating 100 persons, and to invite representatives of Soviet and party active functionaries as well as the literary community to the hearing. In our opinion, the participation of a public prosecutor from the sphere of literary workers in the trial would be advisable. To this end, we suggest that it is essential to instruct the Union of Writers to nominate a suitable candidate for the position of public prosecutor. After the trial, relevant publications should appear in the press and on the radio. We request consideration of the above.
These were but general desires. Specific development of the Soviet understanding of glasnost came from a totally different person, who, twenty years later, became the architect of glasnost under Gorbachev, Alexander Yakovlev, but who at that time was head of the Department of Agitation and Propaganda of the CC. He is now seen as a historical figure, without knowing his background all the roots of Gorbachev’s glasnost cannot be comprehended fully. This was his definition of an “open court” (5 January 1966*, St 132/11):92
According to the plan, the court hearing will proceed in the presence of representatives of workers, active Soviet and party functionaries and Moscow writers and journalists; the procedure for their invitation shall be the concern of the Moscow City Committee of the CPSU.
In connection with the forthcoming trial, it is deemed essential to issue suggestions concerning its coverage in the press and on the radio:
Reports from their own correspondents from the courtroom, and also special daily reports by [major Russian news agency] TASS on the progress of the trial to be published in the newspapers Izvestia and Literaturnaya gazeta [Literary Gazette]. The editorial boards of the newspapers Komsomolskaya pravda [Komsomol Truth], Sovetskaya kultura [Soviet Culture] and Sovetskaya Rossiya [Soviet Russia] may publish material from their own correspondents in the courtroom at their own discretion.
All other newspapers shall publish only official TASS reports regarding the trial; in the course of the hearing, radio shall broadcast TASS reports and certain newspaper correspondents concerning the proceedings.
Acting together with the KGB under the Council of Ministers of the USSR, APN [Novosti Press Agency] is charged with the preparation of relevant articles concerning the trial for publication abroad.
Correspondents of the indicated newspapers, TASS and APN shall enter the courtroom (without cameras) with official passes, issued by the KGB under the Council of Ministers of the USSR.
Foreign correspondents are excluded from the court hearing.
- In order to prepare official reports and provide scrutiny of reports on the court proceedings, a special press group shall be formed of… [names from the Department of Culture of the CC CPSU, Department of Agitation and Propaganda of the CC CPSU, Department of Administrative Units of the CC CPSU and the KGB under the CM [Council of Ministers of the] USSR].
It would seem that Yakovlev gave careful consideration to all eventualities. The scrupulously selected public “greeted the verdict of the court with applause.” The press, party organizations and the KGB were also not tardy in doing their bit, as the latter was proud to report (16 February 1966, 346-Z):
The sentencing of criminals SINYAVSKY and DANIEL was met with approval by Soviet society. In the course of the hearing, the court and the editorial boards of newspapers received numerous letters and telegrams from Soviet citizens, demanding strict punishment for the slanderers.
Yet despite all their efforts, thousands of sheets typed on onionskin paper were spreading throughout the country, bearing the “final words” of the accused, and everyone knew that they did not plead guilty! Protests escalated, and the world at large was perturbed and indignant at the outcome of the trial. Our glasnost was at work.
Yakovlev had nothing to do but howl even louder:93
In order to clarify the substance of the trial of Sinyavsky and Daniel, and also expose the slanderous claims of the bourgeois press… it would be feasible to implement the following actions:
- conduct informative and clarifying presentations by authoritative activists in the fields of literature, the arts and sciences, in creative organizations, newspaper and journal offices, in publishing houses… [and] […] in the humanitarian faculties of institutions of higher education;
- charge Politizdat [the political publishing house of the CPSU Central Committee] with the urgent publication of the materials of the trial (the conclusion to indict, the speeches of state and social accusers, the sentence, etc.) for the purpose of informing party and creative activists, and also the correspondents of newspapers in socialist countries and press bodies of communist parties in capitalist countries;
- publish a letter from the Secretariat of the Administration of the Union of Writers of the USSR that contains a response to the declarations of foreign writers and cultural activists regarding the trial in the Literary Gazette and Izvestia;
- instruct the editorial boards of the newspapers Izvestia, Komsomolskaya pravda, Literaturnaya gazeta and Sovetskaya kultura to publish readers’ letters, and also prominent representatives of literature, the arts and sciences, approving the verdict of the court and condemning the anti-Soviet activities of Sinyavsky and Daniel…;
- instruct the editorial boards of the newspapers Pravda, Izvestia, Literaturnaya gazeta, Komsomolskaya pravda and the journal Kommunist to publish theoretical articles regarding the Marxist understanding of the question of freedom and the responsibility of the individual in socialist society.
The committee on radio broadcasting and television under the CM USSR is to draw up and send the following to foreign countries:
- declarations of support by representatives of Soviet society regarding the sentences in the case of Sinyavsky and Daniel;
- a talk by a prominent Soviet jurist substantiating the justice of the verdict from the point of view of Soviet legislation;
- materials exposing the slanderous nature of the writings of Sinyavsky and Daniel, their calls to terrorism and vile anti-Semitic statements, and the wide application of their works for the purposes of the Cold War….
- materials demonstrating the moral grubbiness and political double-dealing of Sinyavsky and Daniel;
- comments and talks on the freedom of creativity in the USSR and the persecution of progressive activists in the West.
The scandal spread far and wide. Just as under Stalin, meetings were held in all workplaces for the purpose of “unanimous condemnation” of the writers by those who had never read their books. Hundreds of thousands of Soviet citizens were forced to choose between their consciences and their well-being. Some refused, but the majority agreed, for after all, those who refused were “too few”… and what was the point? To improve the Soviet system?
This served as the prototype of all our subsequent trials, a kind of model of party glasnost: “open” trials behind closed doors, with a handpicked audience, with a handful of friends of those in the dock and foreign correspondents at the court entrance. Always followed by the deafening roar of Yakovlev’s propaganda after every trial, which still did not manage to silence our glasnost, but merely increased distrust of the official press. Was it really surprising that even children preferred to listen to foreign radio?
This was how the battle line was drawn from the start of the opposition: our glasnost versus their glasnost, the law versus ideology. How could anyone “not understand” or “not know” this, if the regime demanded not just wordless submission but full, active agreement from its subjects?
Of course they understood and knew everything, but after several years of “thaw,” when it was even fashionable to talk about civil conscience and moral responsibility, the country reverted to its monkey-like status: hear nothing, see nothing, say nothing. People preferred to pretend to be blind, deaf, and dumb, so that later, as had happened after Stalin, they could feign dismay: How could this have happened? Who is to blame?
Strangely enough for such a philosophical-ethical position, its political effect was very great in the beginning. The trials that followed after that of Sinyavsky and Daniel, especially the case of Alexander Ginzburg and Yuri Galanskov,94 caused an outbreak of turbulent protests inside the country, a sort of chain reaction. Direct repressions proved not just useless, but downright dangerous to the regime: the more trials took place, the more people protested. The atmosphere in the camps also changed: those incarcerated no longer vanished without a trace, were not expunged from life, but joined in the general resistance. Information about hunger and other strikes, petitions, and even literary works of political prisoners began to trickle out of the camps, cocking a snook at the idea of isolation. Furthermore, the camps became a kind of link between various groups of the movement arising in different parts of the country. It was also the place where we met one another, and thus became known to each one’s relatives and friends. The punishments meted out by the courts simply became futile; they contributed to the growth and consolidation of an originally scattered, random movement into a serious political force.
This was a lesson the regime never forgot. The entire subsequent history of our mutual relations is a history of the regime’s search for other means to fight us, and ours a search for responses to their new stratagems. Arrests and trials became their last resort, an enforced necessity, and being able to make them take these steps frequently was like a victory for us. The authorities preferred other means, from psychiatric confinement and defamatory campaigns (“compromising” people, as the chekists called it) to expulsion abroad. Running true to form, in 1977 the regime even tried to “codify ideology” in the new Constitution of the USSR, for the first time in its history stating the following openly in article 6:
The leading and guiding force of Soviet society, the core of its political system, state and public organizations, is the Communist Party of the USSR. The CPSU exists for the people and serves the people.
Armed with Marxist-Leninist teaching, the Communist Party determines the general outlook for social development and the line of internal and foreign policy of the USSR, steers the great creative activity of the Soviet people, providing a smooth, scientifically based character to the struggle for the victory of communism.
Thus they partly accepted the rules of the game we offered. Now just try to cite the Constitution! All is in accordance with the law. However, not even that helped them; prior to this we had already begun to refer to the UN’s Universal Charter of Human Rights, to pacts concerning civil liberties, and subsequently to the Helsinki Accords. You can always find something to cite if you try.
Curiously, the defense of rights—this seemingly difficult-to-digest aspect of our philosophy—became unusually popular over time. Looking through samizdat documents from the end of the 1970s, I was amazed by the precision of the references to all the fine points of the law in petitions penned by even simple laborers. “Asserting one’s rights” suddenly became very fashionable.
The regime, tottering on the brink of doom, also made use of this trend. The system was ageing, it was on its last legs, and the “party elite” had to save itself somehow. This was when “liberal” Yakovlev, the foreman of perestroika, emerged. All of a sudden, newspapers became full of our slogans from twenty years ago: rule-of-law state, period of stagnation, and, naturally, glasnost. Whole chunks of our samizdat began to appear in the official press, and even party decisions, but without quotation marks or any mention of the original authors. Meanwhile the “liberated” people, studiously hiding their eyes, pretended that they had heard nothing of the kind until now. The West rejoiced, astounded by the freethinking of the party elite. Party glaznozt—as it was pronounced by entranced foreigners—suited them fine. It became the dernier cri of Western mode, even though nobody knew what it really meant. Under the circumstances, nobody remembered us—we could not even come to Moscow; up until 1991 our names were still on the blacklists of the KGB. Formally we still remained “particularly dangerous state criminals,” “continually sluggish schizophrenics,” and imperialist agents. But this did not trouble anyone.
Who did those birdbrains hope to fool? History? Logic? Themselves? Even without our names, glasnost could not be controlled, and the law was still incompatible with ideology. It took only a few years without repressions, a few years of relative freedom to exchange opinions, for the regime to collapse. Already by the beginning of 1990, a wave of strikes and massive demonstrations roared across the entire immense country like a mountain avalanche that grows in size along its path. These people did not demand bread or money, even though both commodities were in sufficiently short supply. No, they demanded the repeal of Article 6 of the Constitution—that very article affirming the supremacy of the CPSU over every social structure in the land, and of which I spoke at my 1967 trial, brandishing the KGB’s copy of the Constitution. I admit that when I saw miners, covered in black coal dust like fiends from the underworld, half-starved people, whole families with old people and children who were calling not for vengeance, but for a change to the Constitution—I felt like crying. Like frames from a film, three decades of camp barracks, the cells of Vladimir Prison, carbolic-reeking corridors of psychiatric institutions, and the narrow Moscow streets in which I grew up, feeling myself even then as being behind enemy lines—all flashed through my mind. Suddenly all this made sense, found its place in the general harmonious symphony of images, sounds, smells…. The rest was a question of one or two years, not more. The subsequent fall of the regime, the disintegration of the Soviet Union was merely a logical conclusion.
As if waiting for this, the Supreme Court of the Russian Federation immediately sent me two notices about the quashing of my 1967 and 1972 sentences “in view of the absence of corpus delicti,” the component elements of a crime. Both notices carried the same date: 5 December 1991, Constitution Day, on which we had staged our first demonstration twenty-six years earlier.
Yakovlev, however, has retired and does not engage in politics. He is now head of the Russian presidential commission on the rehabilitation of people who have been repressed. Almost like having Joseph Goebbels in charge of the rehabilitation of victims of Auschwitz in 1945.
Unsurprisingly, most of the CC documents concerning our trials did not tell me anything new. Some things we already knew, others we guessed, and some we learned later. Nonetheless, they made a strong impression: it is one thing to guess, but to see a document with all the signatures and seals detailing your guesses in black and white, expressed in the ineffable bureaucratic party language, is something else. The level at which these decisions were made was, as I have already said, much higher than we had thought. Clearly all decisions were made by the party, but to assume that our cases were discussed in the CC or even the Politburo would have struck us as immodest. Moreover, recalling the veiled, allusive language of the Nazi leadership in Germany, I was still unprepared for such blatant and cynical disregard of legal norms. Acting well in advance, at times several weeks before a trial, they would decide who should be imprisoned and who should be shown mercy, totally unconcerned by the constitutional principle of the independence of judges. Even sanctions for house searches emanated from the CC, and not the Procuracy. In the full sense of the term, they were above the law, not constraining themselves with any judicial reflections, and daily rewriting laws at their own discretion. All other agencies simply rubber-stamped their decisions.
In April 1968, shortly after the Ginzburg-Galanskov trial, the Politburo, infuriated by our friends whom they considered were too active in defending the condemned, decided to deal with us once and for all (15 April 1968, Pb 79/XI):95
Acting as accomplices of the more reactionary representatives of bourgeois press and radio, they systematically supply them with slanderous materials, try to hold private press conferences for foreigners, incite antisocial elements to politically harmful activity, inspire the production and dissemination of hostile letters, declarations and “protests,” and display provocative behavior toward bodies of power.
What, may one ask, is the problem? Put them in the dock; they had already done more damage than Ginzburg and Galanskov by defending those two. The more so, as is noted in the document:
Thus the behavior of the indicated group of persons is displaying an increasingly audacious nature, and the fact that their actions go unpunished dismays many citizens.
But imprisoning or judging them was not what the CC wanted right now:
… insofar as this measure may lead to a new wave of demagogic demands from antisocial forces within the country and incendiary actions by bourgeois propaganda.
Hence a complex decision to keep everybody happy. Send Pyotr Grigorenko for a psychiatric examination. Allow Alexander Esenin-Volpin to travel to the USA to attend a mathematical symposium, to which he has been invited numerous times, and then strip him of citizenship and “deny him reentry into the USSR” if “during his presence in the USA he compromises himself by improper conduct.” Summon Yakir, Litvinov and Larisa Bogoraz-Brukhman to the Procuracy of the USSR and “demand, in categorical terms, the immediate cessation of their antisocial activities.”96
Caution Yakir, Litvinov and Bogoraz-Brukhman that otherwise they shall be deprived of residential registration and removed from Moscow.
Pursuant to the above, we deem it necessary to make an addendum to the resolution of the Council of Ministers of the USSR dated 15 August 1966 N658-211, “On the reinforcement of the passport regime in the cities of Moscow and Leningrad and in the Moscow Region” (draft attached);
- instruct the Moscow City Council (if the caution is ignored) to make a decision on withdrawing Yakir and Litvinov’s Moscow residential registration for a period of 2 years;
- instruct the Ministry for Protection of Public Order to remove Yakir and Litvinov from Moscow, relocating Yakir to reside in the Tyumen region and Litvinov to reside in the Guryevsk region of the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic;
- the question of depriving Bogoraz-Brukhman of residential registration and removal from Moscow shall be reviewed additionally, depending on her behavior after the application of the indicated sanctions to Yakir and Litvinov;
- prepare and publish a notice on this matter on the day the sanctions are applied to Grigorenko, Esenin-Volpin, Yakir, Litvinov and Bogoraz-Brukhman in the Soviet Russia [Sovetskaya Rossiya] newspaper.
A copy of the “addendum” to the law on residential registration was attached, allowing city councils to:
… without the preliminary imposition of an administrative sanction, annul the residential registration of individuals engaged in antisocial activity, voicing slanderous falsehoods that incite antisocial elements to politically harmful actions, who behave in a provocative manner toward state bodies. … The removal of individuals indicated in the present resolution is to be carried out within twenty-four hours from the moment of the decision to annul residential registration.
At that time, none of these measures were legal. But why should they care? So the Politburo orders the drawing up of everything required within ten days,97 without consulting anyone, not even for the sake of appearances. Millions of residents of Moscow and Leningrad and their city councils still know nothing about such unlimited powers, nor do the leaders of “sovereign” Kazakhstan know of Litvinov’s impending exile to their republic. Equally ignorant of the new material destined for its pages is the editorial board of Sovetskaya Rossiya. The Council of Ministers of the USSR, allegedly the legal government of the country, dutifully signs the attached draft “resolution,” and a new era begins, in which any person can be deprived of his residence, without trial or investigation, within twenty-four hours. And all this to drive three people out of Moscow, whom trying in court was inconvenient at the moment.
I have cited this example not because it was the most flagrant or cruel. On the contrary, it was one of the more benign. In the main, these measures were not implemented: a month later the “noise” in the West subsided and the opportunity arose to simply imprison citizens who had drawn the wrath of the Politburo, which suspended its decision without informing any interested parties yet again (16 May 1968, Pb 81/XVI).98
So these duly signed and stamped “laws” lie in archives, never having seen the light of day. Litvinov and Bogoraz-Brukhman were actually exiled half a year later, but for totally different reasons and after a “lawful” trial. Esenin-Volpin was allowed to travel to his symposium… four years later, and five years later Yakir was sent into internal exile, also for a different reason. This example is striking in its absurdity and the monstrous indifference of the supreme power toward the most elementary legal norms. They called it “socialist legality.”
It is interesting to note that on that same day, 15 April 1968, the Politburo reached a decision concerning two more people: Anatoly Marchenko and Ilya Gabay (15 April 1968*, Pb 79/XII). Despite identical formulations and accusations, they were to be stripped of Soviet citizenship and exiled abroad. Once again, the decision was made, and the order of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet was signed, but a month later the Politburo changed its mind. A formal and judicial reason to arrest and throw them into the camps, as persons stripped of Soviet citizenship, turned up soon enough. But nobody remembered this.
Both of them were to die tragically: Gabay committed suicide, Marchenko died during a hunger strike in prison, in the times of “perestroika”. What a game of chance that was: had they been sent into exile earlier, they would probably be alive today.
Naturally, this is how it was at first. With time, the regime learned to be more “accurate” in dealing with the law, and to prepare its “measures” more thoroughly. Here is a later example of how the CC prepared to deal with the members of the Helsinki Groups in 1977 (20 January 1977, 123-A)99
Bearing in mind the political and operative situation, suppression of the more active anti-Soviets would be feasible by various means.
With regard to [Yuri] ORLOV, an investigation should be made into the criminal case initiated earlier by the Procuracy of the City of Moscow, with the aim of charging him with criminal liability under Article 190 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR at a later stage. … Orlov is not to be arrested in the course of the investigation, unless he precipitates such arrest by his actions.
It is deemed essential to arrest A.I. GINZBURG and bring criminal charges against him under Article 70 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR, the investigation to be carried out at his place of residence in the Kaluga region.
Kiev resident N.D. RUDENKO is to be arrested and charged with criminal liability under Article 62 of the Criminal Code of the Ukrainian SSR (identical to Article 70 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR), but the investigation is to be conducted not in Kiev, but Donetsk for procedural reasons.
With regard to [Tomas] VENCLOVA, born in 1937, former scientific worker in the Institute of History of the Academy of Sciences of the Lithuanian SSR, who is applying for a temporary exit permit to visit the USA on a private invitation, it has been decided to grant him permission for this trip. The issue of VENCLOVA’S future fate shall be decided on the basis of his behavior abroad.
Preparation for their trials was even more thorough and even further removed from the law. For a start, all political trials in 1977 were deferred for almost a year for purely propagandistic purposes (1 April 1978*, 785-A).
Completed investigations on criminal cases are to be forwarded to the courts. However, allowing for the various important political enterprises throughout the country (discussion and adoption of the new Constitution of the USSR, celebrations of the sixtieth anniversary of the Great October), as well as the situation concerning the Belgrade Conference,100 the conduct of trials on the indicated matters was deemed unfeasible in 1977.
This was addressed to the CC not by Pravda pen pushers seeking approval, not even by the agitprop head Yakovlev—no, it emanated from the three senior jurists of the country: Procurator General Rudenko, chairman of the Supreme Court Smirnov and KGB head Andropov. What could be expected from the Politburo, the Central Committee, if those responsible for maintaining the law saw it only as an appendage of ideology? For them, the concept of legality did not exist; what they understood was feasibility—i.e. something consonant with ideological aims.
They certainly knew the laws; this was not a matter of ignorance. For example, a legal confusion occurred in the case of Anatoly Sharansky (who changed his name to Natan Sharansky upon arrival in Israel)—the chekists almost overstepped themselves in accusing him of espionage:101
Pursuant to Article 9 of the Statute on Military Tribunals, this case should be examined by a military tribunal. However, this could lead to a strengthening of the anti-Soviet campaign being waged by Western reactionary circles in connection with SHARANSKY’S case. In view of the above, we deem it feasible to make an exception and alter the jurisdiction of the Sharansky matter, and have it examined by the Judicial Division for Criminal Cases of the Supreme Court of the RSFSR. The draft of the resolution of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR is attached.
The attached resolution of the country’s highest legislative body would sound ludicrous to any lawyer:
As an exception, permit the Judicial Division for Criminal Cases of the Supreme Court of the RSFSR to examine, in the first instance, the criminal case of Anatoly Borisovich SHARANSKY, charged with treason against the Motherland in the form of espionage.
As the executive asked, so the legislature did, in compliance with “socialist legality,” simply and easily, for they all knew that the accusation of espionage was too far-fetched by virtue of its “feasibility.” Sharansky’s real fault lay (25 December 1977, no number) in that he:
… provided the West systematically with slanderous information regarding the Soviet Union, which was actively used by special services in the USA under the guise of the “protection of human rights” in the USSR. These data were also put to use by pro-Zionist US congressmen upon the adoption of the discriminatory Jackson-Vanik Amendment to the “Trade Act of 1974.”
It is obvious that the most blatant violations of the law committed by the regime were due to its unwillingness to incarcerate us or “punish with the full severity of the law.” The search for alternative means of vengeance led to glitches in their punitive machine. Ideological “feasibility” had no desire to be consistent with legality, thereby causing incredible paradoxes, obvious even to those who knew nothing of the law. For instance, our exiles, expulsions abroad, “exchanges,” stripping of citizenship—was there anyone unaware of them? Did anyone doubt that these were simply political reprisals, deprived of any legal foundation? Did the authorities make any effort to maintain a semblance of legality? We had already seen how arbitrarily this question was decided regarding Gabay and Marchenko in 1968: The authorities decided to exile them, then changed their minds. They did not even bother to repeal the signed order that stripped the two of citizenship. But in all other cases decisions were no less arbitrary, beginning with Valery Yakovlevich Tarsis, the first person to be stripped of citizenship for political reasons in post-Stalinist times. Having allowed him to travel to England, the authorities had not yet decided what to do next. Then the KGB reported that it had managed to discredit Tarsis in the West (8 April 1966, Pb 238/132):
The Committee for State Security is continuing measures for the further compromising of Tarsis abroad as a mentally ill individual. Due to Tarsis’s anti-Soviet declarations abroad, and also the positive reaction of Soviet citizens to measures against him, we consider his return to the Soviet Union to be inadvisable and deem it feasible to deprive Tarsis of Soviet citizenship and bar his return to the USSR.
The Politburo agreed, and the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet issued the relevant order. One might ask whether, if Soviet citizens had expressed a negative reaction to these measures, Tarsis would not have lost his citizenship. And in what way should such a reaction have manifested itself?
Even more bizarre from a legal point of view were “exchanges”, especially when the “exchanges” involved one’s own for one’s own (23 May 1979, 1012-A).102 According to Andropov:
Pursuant to the resolution of the CC CPSU NII129/44-оп; dated 16 November 1978, acting on 27 April 1979, the Committee for State Security deported criminals [Georgi] Vins, [Eduard] Kuznetsov, [Mark] Dymshits, [Valentin] Moroz and Ginzburg, all stripped of Soviet citizenship by the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, to the USA, and exchanged them for Soviet intelligence officers, comrades Chernyaev and [Valdik] Enger, who had been sentenced by the American authorities. At the same time, Jewish nationalists [Anatoly] Altman, [Hillel] Butman, [Sylva] Zalmanson, [Boris] Penson and [Leib] Khnokh103 left the USSR after being granted exit permits for the purpose of sanitation of the operative situation in the country in connection with preparations for the Olympic Games in Moscow.
As if that were not sufficiently amusing, he added104 the following:
Data received by the Committee for State Security indicates that the expulsion of the abovementioned individuals from the USSR has been perceived by foreign anti-Soviet circles and antisocial elements in our country as a serious blow to their plans for “destabilizing socialism from within.” Comments from abroad stress that in the persons of Vins, Kuznetsov, Altman and other anti-Soviets, the West has lost “reliable executors” of the hostile intentions of special services and subversive centers, and also sources of vicious slander concerning Soviet reality and the internal and foreign policy of the Communist Party and the Soviet government. …
… The expelled evaluate the situation similarly. For example, Ginzburg and Vins state that they would have preferred to avoid exile, even to remain in prison, in order to preserve ties with the milieu in which they worked.
Mark you, all this was written at a time when tens of thousands were vainly trying to emigrate, and many of the “expelled” landed in prison because they wanted to emigrate to Israel. There was a cartoon in the New York Times in which one figure wearing a fur coat and a hat with earflaps, is standing in Red Square and saying to another, “Well, it’s all clear now. Those who want to leave are not allowed, and only those who want to stay can go.”
In actual fact, all those “expelled” were still incarcerated at the time of the exchange. So if “sanitizing” would have improved the “operative situation,” it would have been easier to expel them straightaway, without the added burden of court hearings and investigations. And alongside them, all the other “reliable executors of hostile intentions” and indeed all those imprisoned. Especially if “subversive centers” would claim that this was a “serious blow” to them.
Recalling this now is amusing, but it was pretty much so at the time. I remember how, in 1970 and 1971, prior to my last arrest, I managed to assist several Jewish activists among those who, for one reason or another, the authorities did not want to allow to leave. Toward the end, my special ability regarding the “refuseniks” even acquired legendary status, but I kept my method a close secret. In fact, it was all done quite simply: feeling sorry for some of them, I suggested staging a performance for the KGB, as if I were making them my assistants. They were to phone me at regular intervals and utter mysterious phrases and come to visit me as if secretly. From time to time they would appear with me in public and discuss seemingly very serious matters and, having received their “orders,” disappear quickly. As a rule this performance would last less than a month, and my “assistant” would receive an exit visa without delay, although before that he may have spent years in futile efforts to emigrate. That was how we helped the KGB to “sanitize the situation.”
Here is another example of Central Committee lawmaking (30 September 1986, 1942-Ch):
Yu.F. Orlov, born 1924, former corresponding member of the Academy of Sciences of the Armenian SSR, was sentenced in 1978 to 7 years’ imprisonment and 5 years’ internal exile under part 1 article 70 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR. At present, he is in exile in the Yakut ASSR, with the term expiring in February 1989. … For purposes of a mutually acceptable resolution of the matter of [Gennadi] Zakharov and [Nicholas] Daniloff, we deem it possible to agree to the expulsion of Orlov from the country, relieving him of the need to serve the rest of his sentence, and strip him of Soviet citizenship.
Not the slightest effort was made to give this decision at least the appearance of legality. It was simply the case that the CC had to solve a problem that had no relation to Orlov whatsoever. He was a kind of makeweight to a different matter, something like small change from a large banknote.
In my case they merely “forgot” to strip me of citizenship and repeal my sentence, having “expelled” me from the USSR; they even gave me a five-year passport. The question of my exchange was discussed in the Politburo at least three times, the last time being three days before the exchange took place. It emerges that there was also an order issued by the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, which remained secret. The proposal was put forward by Andropov, Gromyko, and Ponomarev and grandly entitled “On measures relating to the release of comrade L. Corvalan” (14 December 1976, 2816-A):105
The Soviet ambassador in Washington has reported the consent of the Chilean authorities to exchange L. Corvalan in Geneva. Bukovsky and his mother will be exchanged there as well.
The Chileans propose to make the exchange on 18 December of this year (telegram from Washington N3130). We deem it feasible to accept this date.
It would be advisable to send a representative of the International Department of the CC CPSU and a doctor to greet comrade L. Corvalan.
A special aircraft should be assigned to transport comrade Corvalan from Geneva to the USSR. The same aircraft shall deliver Bukovsky to Geneva.
It is essential that prior to transferring Bukovsky to the Chilean side, the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR should issue an order regarding his removal from his place of confinement and expulsion from the USSR. This will allow Bukovsky to remain unreleased and under guard, and without the consent of the latter, deliver him to Geneva.
How about that! So in order to avoid requesting my consent and to have the pleasure of transporting me in handcuffs, a special order was issued. At the same time, there was no need to repeal my sentence or to let me keep my Soviet citizenship: they could not keep a citizen, moreover one not convicted, under guard.
Sixteen years passed before I was able to see this order, and when the time came I simply threw up my hands and burst out laughing. Since when had they developed such niceties as to ask for our consent to be subjected to punishment? And mainly: why? What did they think, that I would resort to fisticuffs with them?
Laughter, however, is very relative—there is not much to laugh about in conditions of lawlessness and arbitrary tyranny. By such means, over the 1970s and 1980s, the country “rid itself” of the best, and often most talented, and certainly most honest figures in science, art, and literature.
An analysis of materials received shows that during their entire stay abroad in 1974, [Mstislav] ROSTROPOVICH and [Galina] VISHNEVSKAYA have engaged in antisocial activity, slandered the Soviet state and social system and committed other actions unworthy of the calling of a Soviet citizen.
By their provocative actions and slanderous declarations, Rostropovich and Vishnevskaya supplied material aimed at inflaming anti-Soviet insinuations in the West, including vicious attacks on the USSR regarding the notorious questions of “human rights” and “creative freedom” in our country. … Such behavior by Rostropovich and Vishnevskaya shall create a precedent for emulation by other politically immature representatives of the creative intelligentsia. Acting on their example, a number of musicians, directors, writers, artists and sportsmen have lodged applications to travel abroad for lengthy periods.
In view of the above, it would appear feasible to strip M.L. Rostropovich and G.I. Vishnevskaya of Soviet citizenship and publish a relevant Order of the Presidium of the Supreme Court of the USSR in the Gazette of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, with a brief note on this matter in Izvestia.
It is strange that this package (14 March 1978*, Pb 97/54) also contained earlier documents of the CC regarding the persecution of Rostropovich, including those forbidding him to visit the USSR in 1977106 with the National Symphony Orchestra, whose conductor he was at that time. Here is yet another document (12 May 1977*, 958-A):
According to information received, the “Association of International Meetings on Contemporary Art” in the West intends to conduct a competition for young cellists, named in honor of Rostropovich, in Paris from 27 June to 3 July 1977, which is one of the events in connection with his 50th anniversary. Preparations for this competition are widely advertised in the West.
In this situation it is deemed feasible to instruct the Ministry of Culture of the USSR to inform the cultural bodies of the People’s Republic of Bulgaria, the People’s Republic of Hungary, The German Democratic Republic, Cuba, the Mongolian People’s Republic, the Polish People’s Republic and the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic of the undesirability of participation of representatives of socialist countries in this competition.
The Politburo examined all these documents while deciding the question of Rostropovich and Vishnevskaya’s citizenship, and the Politburo should have seen that these people had more than enough cause to discuss not just human rights, but also systematic persecution. The Politburo itself had launched this persecution and then stripped them of citizenship, offended by their response. Yet what had it expected? Gratitude?
As if propelled by an urge to self-destruct, the Politburo paid no regard to anything in those years. If someone refused to bow before it, be he ever so famous, no matter how many achievements or awards he had, he would be thrown out of the country. Among the exiled were the sculptor Ernst Neizvestny, the director of the country’s most famous theater, Yuri Lyubimov, and the famous cinema director Andrei Tarkovsky. Others, tired of relentless party scrutiny, either fled or refused to return from trips abroad—and were immediately branded “traitors” and “renegades,” any mention of whom in the Soviet press was proscribed. Their books were confiscated from libraries, and any mention of their names in encyclopedias was expunged. Scientists and chess players, ballet dancers and writers suddenly became the regime’s worst enemies. Not even nuclear physicists, whom Stalin himself did not touch, were spared (6 November 1978, No. 24348):
The Ministry of Medium Machine Building proposed stripping senior scientific employee of the Unified Institute of Nuclear Research, [Sergei] M. Polikanov, of awards and medals of the USSR, the title of laureate of the Lenin Prize, and his academic degree of Doctor of Physics and Mathematics, and recommends his expulsion from the ranks of corresponding members of the Academy of Sciences of the USSR.
The proposal was motivated by the circumstance that S.M. Polikanov has established contacts with foreign correspondents and supplies them with slanderous materials, used by the Western press for anti-Soviet purposes, has joined a group of individuals known for antisocial activity, and participates in their hostile enterprises.
By order of the CC CPSU, Polikanov and his family are permitted to leave for permanent residence in a capitalist country.
The only one they did not have the courage to exile from the country was Sakharov—he was exiled to Gorky without trial (8 January 1980*, Pb 177/X), just like that, without citing any law and without any reference to the “legislation” the Politburo had devised regarding administrative relocation from Moscow and Leningrad for Yakir, Litvinov, and Bogoraz-Brukhman back in 1968.
For the purposes of averting Sakharov’s pernicious activities, criminal contacts with citizens of capitalist countries and consequent infliction of damage to the interests of the Soviet state, it is deemed necessary to relocate Andrei Dmitrievich Sakharov in administrative order from the city of Moscow to one of the regions of the country that are closed to foreigners.
A living regime for A.D. Sakharov must be established that would preclude his contacts with foreigners and antisocial elements, or travel to other areas of the country without the specific permission of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of the USSR. The Committee for State Security and the Ministry of Internal Affairs of the USSR are charged with exercising control over A.D. Sakharov’s observance of the established regime.
Can anyone explain to me why this regime could not do anything in accordance with the laws devised by itself?
In order to confer at least some kind of understanding of the workings of the minds of Politburo members in deciding such matters, I shall cite the minutes of the meeting at which the question of Solzhenitsyn was decided (I quote from the publication in the newspaper Russkaya mysl):107
BREZHNEV. According to information from our representations abroad in France and the USA and the foreign press, it appears that Solzhenitsyn’s new work—“The GULAG Archipelago” is about to be published.
I have been told by comrade Suslov that the Secretariat has decided to launch a campaign in our press aimed at exposing Solzhenitsyn’s writings and the bourgeois propaganda associated with the publication of this book. As yet, nobody has read the book, but its contents are well known. It is a crude anti-Soviet lampoon. Therefore today we need to discuss what we should do next. Under our laws, we have grounds to imprison Solzhenitsyn, because he has raised his hand against what is most sacrosanct—against Lenin, our Soviet system, Soviet power, against all that is dear to our hearts.
At one time we imprisoned Yakir, Litvinov and others, sentenced them, and that was the end of the matter. Kuznetsov, [Svetlana] Alliluyeva and others went abroad. Some noise was raised at first, then everything was forgotten. But this hooligan Solzhenitsyn is still swaggering around. He does not care about anything, takes nothing into account. What should we do with him? If we apply sanctions against him at this time, will we benefit from the unleashing of Western propaganda against us? I am putting this question up for discussion. I simply want us to exchange opinions, confer and reach the right decision.
KOSYGIN. There is a note from comrade Andropov on this matter. The note suggests expelling him from the country.
BREZHNEV. I have discussed this problem with comrade Andropov.
ANDROPOV. I consider that Solzhenitsyn should be expelled from the country without seeking his consent.
BREZHNEV. It is clear that Solzhenitsyn would never give his consent.
KIRILENKO. Maybe we can remove him from the country without his consent.
PODGORNY. But is there a country that would agree to take him without his consent?
BREZHNEV. We must bear in mind that Solzhenitsyn did not even travel abroad to receive the Nobel Prize.
ANDROPOV. When he was offered the chance to go abroad to receive the Nobel Prize, he raised the question of guarantees regarding his return to the Soviet Union.
Comrades, I have been raising the matter of Solzhenitsyn since 1965. He has now reached a new level of hostile activity. He is trying to create an organization within the Soviet Union, putting it together with former prisoners. He speaks out about Lenin, against the October Revolution, against the socialist system. His work “The GULAG Archipelago” is not a literary creation, but a political document. That is dangerous. There are tens of thousands of Vlasovites in our country, UONovites108 and other hostile elements. Overall, hundreds and thousands of people, among whom Solzhenitsyn will find support. Now everyone is waiting to see how we shall deal with Solzhenitsyn, if we shall apply sanctions or let him be.
Comrade [Mstislav] Keldysh phoned me recently and asked why we have not taken any measures regarding Sakharov. He says that if we continue to do nothing, then how shall other academics such as [Pyotr] Kapitsa, [Vladimir] Engelgardt and others conduct themselves?
All this is important, comrades, and we have to decide these questions now, no matter what is happening at the European Conference.109
I think we should take Solzhenitsyn to court and apply Soviet laws against him. Many foreign correspondents are going to see him now as well as other dissatisfied individuals. He talks to them, and even conducts press conferences. Let us say that we have a hostile underground and the KGB fails to uncover it. But Solzhenitsyn is acting openly, in an audacious manner. He abuses the humane attitude of Soviet power and conducts hostile activity with impunity. That is why we should employ all means, of which I wrote to the CC, in other words expel him from the country. First of all, we should ask our ambassadors to sound out the relevant governments as to whether they are prepared to take him in. If we do not expel him now, then he shall continue his hostile activity. You know that he has written the hostile novel “August 1914”, then the scurrilous “GULAG Archipelago”, and is now writing “October 1917.” This will be a new anti-Soviet slur.
Therefore I suggest expelling Solzhenitsyn from the country by administrative order. We should instruct our ambassadors in the countries mentioned in my note to inquire about their willingness to take in Solzhenitsyn. If we do not take these steps now, then all our propagandistic work will yield no results. If we publish articles in newspapers, talk about him on the radio without taking steps, this will be an empty gesture. We have to decide what to do about Solzhenitsyn.
BREZHNEV. What if we expel him to a socialist country?
ANDROPOV. Leonid Ilyich, this is hardly a gift that socialist countries would welcome. Just think of what a specimen we would be sending them. Maybe we should ask Iraq, Switzerland, or some other country? Living in the West would be easy for him, he has the equivalent of eight million rubles in European banks.
SUSLOV. Solzhenitsyn has become unacceptably brazen, he spits on the Soviet system, the Communist Party, he has raised his hand against the holy of holies—Lenin.
What we should do with Solzhenitsyn is a matter of time: expel him from the country, or try him under our Soviet laws—this must be done. In order to apply this or that measure regarding Solzhenitsyn, we need to prepare our people by conducting extensive propagandist work. We made the right choice concerning Sakharov with a broad propagandistic campaign. There are now practically no hostile letters on the subject of Sakharov. Millions of Soviet people listen to the radio about these new books. All this has an influence on them. We need to publish a number of articles unmasking Solzhenitsyn. This really needs to be done.
In accordance with the decision of the Secretariat, the plan is to publish a couple of articles in “Pravda” and the “Literary Gazette.” People are bound to know about this book of Solzhenitsyn’s. Of course, there is no need to unleash a campaign about this, but several articles should be published.
KIRILENKO. This will only draw attention to Solzhenitsyn.
SUSLOV. But we cannot keep silent.
GROMYKO. Solzhenitsyn is an enemy, and I vote for the institution of the most severe measures against him. As for the initiation of propagandistic measures, they should be precisely dosed. They require careful thought. But we cannot reject the steps that comrade Andropov proposes. If we expel him from the country forcefully, without his consent, this is something bourgeois propaganda could use against us. It would be good if we could remove him from the country with his consent, but he will never agree to that. Maybe we should exercise a little more patience while the European Conference is in progress? Even if some country agrees to accept him, expelling him now is not feasible, because a huge campaign could be launched against us, and this will not help us toward the end of the Conference. I suggest waiting two to four months, but want to stress that in principle I agree with implementing severe measures. Solzhenitsyn must be cordoned off now, so he will be isolated during these months and be unable to see anyone through whom he could spread propaganda.
Leonid Ilyich shall be visiting Cuba soon. That is also not too good for us, as there will be numerous materials published against the Soviet Union. We must do everything possible to discredit Solzhenitsyn through propagandistic measures.
USTINOV. I would suggest starting work on implementing the proposals made by comrade Andropov. At the same time, we need to publish propagandistic materials exposing Solzhenitsyn.
PODGORNY. I would like to pose the question like this: what administrative measure should be applied to Solzhenitsyn: either we try him under Soviet laws inside the country and force him to serve his punishment here or, as comrade Andropov suggests, exile him from the country? Beyond doubt, Solzhenitsyn is a brazen, audacious and sworn enemy. The fact that he remains unpunished is also clear. Let us consider what would be most profitable for us, which measure: trial or expulsion. In many countries such as China people are executed openly; the fascist regime in Chile shoots and tortures people; the English in Ireland carry out repressions of the working people, while we have to deal with an arrogant foe and simply walk by when one and all sling mud at us.
I believe that our law is humane, but at the same time merciless with regard to enemies, and we should try him under our Soviet laws in our Soviet court and make him serve his sentence in the Soviet Union.
[Pyotr] DEMICHEV. Of course there is bound to be a lot of noise abroad, but we have already published several materials concerning Solzhenitsyn’s new book. We need to continue propagandistic efforts, as we cannot remain silent. In his poem “The Feast of the Victors” Solzhenitsyn says that he writes like this because he is angry with Soviet power, but now in “The GULAG Archipelago,” which he wrote in 1965, he rants against the Soviet system and the party with even greater ferocity and candor. That is why we must publish strong reactions in our press. In my opinion this will not affect international détente or the European Conference.
SUSLOV. Party organizations and socialist countries are also waiting to see our response to Solzhenitsyn’s actions. The bourgeois press is trumpeting about this new book at full blast. We cannot remain silent.
[Konstantin] KATUSHEV. We are unanimous in our assessment of Solzhenitsyn’s activities. He is an enemy, and must be treated as such. It looks as if we cannot get away from the need to make a decision on the question of Solzhenitsyn now, but it must be made systematically. On one hand, we must direct all our propaganda against Solzhenitsyn, and, on the other hand, we need to take measures consonant with comrade Andropov’s note.
He could probably be exiled from the country by an order of the Supreme Soviet and this could be reported in the press. He has encroached on our sovereignty, on our liberties, on our laws, and should be punished.
Talks on exiling Solzhenitsyn will probably take some three to four months but, I repeat, this question must be resolved systematically and the sooner he is exiled, the better.
As for our press, articles need to be published.
[Ivan] KAPITONOV. I would like to consider this question from another angle: if we exile Solzhenitsyn, how shall it be perceived by our own population? Naturally there may be some omissions, gossip and the like. What shall we be displaying by this—our strength or our weakness? In any event, I do not think we shall prove our strength by this. To date, we have not unmasked him ideologically and have not said anything substantial about him to the people. Yet this is something that must be done. First of all we should start working on unmasking Solzhenitsyn, turn him inside out, and then our people will understand any administrative measure.
[Mikhail] SOLOMENTSEV. Solzhenitsyn is a seasoned foe of the Soviet Union. If it were not for the foreign policy initiatives currently performed by the Soviet Union, then the matter could be resolved without delay. But how shall any decision reflect on our foreign policy activities? It is clear that in any event we must tell the people all that needs to be told about Solzhenitsyn. We should make a harsh assessment of his activities, his hostile activities. Of course people will ask why measures are not being taken against Solzhenitsyn. For example, an article about Solzhenitsyn has already been published in the GDR, and in Czechoslovakia as well. I say nothing about the bourgeois press, but our press is silent. We hear a great deal on foreign radio about Solzhenitsyn, about his “GULAG Archipelago,” but not a word on our radio.
I believe we cannot stay silent. The people expect decisive action. The press must publish strong materials exposing Solzhenitsyn for what he is. Obviously there should be agreement with socialist countries and the communist parties in capitalist countries regarding matters of a propagandistic nature that could be implemented in their lands.
I consider that Solzhenitsyn should be tried under our laws.
GRISHIN. Comrade Andropov should probably seek a country that would agree to accept Solzhenitsyn, and this search should be started immediately.
KIRILENKO. Whenever we speak of Solzhenitsyn as an anti-Soviet and vicious enemy of the Soviet system, it always seems to coincide with some important events, and we put off making a decision. This may have been justified at the time, but we cannot delay a decision on this matter now. The fact that something has been written about Solzhenitsyn is well and good, but as comrades here have pointed out, writing about him must be more solid, acute and well argued. For instance, Polish writer Krolikowsky wrote an excellent exposé of Solzhenitsyn. Now Solzhenitsyn is becoming increasingly brazen. He is not a loner, he is in touch with Sakharov. He has contacts abroad with the NTS.110 So the time has come to tackle Solzhenitsyn seriously, but so that this will be followed by his expulsion from the country or the implementation of other administrative measures.
Andrei Andreyevich [Gromyko] asks how to avoid this measure turning against us. Yet however it turns against us, this question cannot be left hanging in the air. Enemies are trying to spike our guns, and we cannot remain silent. Even many bourgeois newspapers are now saying that in all probability Solzhenitsyn will be tried under Soviet laws, and that he now comes under the enforceability of the law regarding breach of the Convention on Copyright Protection [of Authors’ Rights], to which we have acceded.
I support the proposal made by comrade Andropov.
Articles should appear in the press, but they must be substantial and well-argued.
KOSYGIN. Comrades, we are all of the same opinion, and I fully endorse all that was said.
For some years, Solzhenitsyn has been attempting to take over people’s minds. It is as if we are afraid to touch him, yet at the same time, our people would welcome action against Solzhenitsyn.
Talking about public opinion generated abroad, we need to reason as follows: what shall cause less damage—either we expose him, try and imprison him, or we wait a few more months and then exile him to another country.
I think we shall suffer fewer losses if we act against him decisively and sentence him under Soviet laws.
Obviously, the press should carry articles about Solzhenitsyn, but they must be serious. Solzhenitsyn has been bought by bourgeois companies, agencies, and works for them. His book “The GULAG Archipelago” is a gross anti-Soviet lampoon. I have discussed this matter with comrade Andropov. Naturally, socialist countries will reject Solzhenitsyn. I think that comrade Andropov should sound out this question with capitalist countries and see which one of them would be prepared to accept him. But on the other hand, we should not fear to apply severe measures of Soviet justice to Solzhenitsyn. Take England, for example. Thousands of workers get killed there. The same happens in Chile.
We should try Solzhenitsyn and disclose everything about him, then he could be exiled to Verkhoyansk. No foreign correspondents will go there: it’s very cold. We cannot keep this secret from the people. Articles must appear in the press.
PODGORNY. Solzhenitsyn is engaged in active anti-Soviet activity. In other times, we sent less dangerous enemies than Solzhenitsyn out of the country or put them on trial, but at the moment we cannot get close to Solzhenitsyn, we keep looking for an approach. Solzhenitsyn’s last book gives no grounds for leniency toward him.
Naturally, the selected measure should not impede the conduct of other actions. Solzhenitsyn has many followers, but we cannot overlook what he is doing.
I think people will support whatever measure we employ. Papers should publish articles, but they must be very well argued and convincing. Much is known about him now and about his latest book as well. There are broadcasts by Voice of America, Radio Free Europe and others. Both here and abroad, people are wondering about the measures the Soviet government will employ against Solzhenitsyn. He, of course, is not afraid and assumes that nothing will be done to him.
I believe that European Conference or not, we must not abandon our position that measures against Solzhenitsyn need to be taken. Even irrespective of what is happening at the European Conference, we must put Solzhenitsyn on trial, and let them know that we are pursuing a principled policy in this regard. We give no quarter to our enemies.
I think we shall inflict a great blow on our common task if we take no steps against Solzhenitsyn, even if this causes a lot of noise abroad. There will be much talk, but the interests of our people, the interests of the Soviet government, our party, are paramount. If we do not move decisively, we shall be asked why we failed to do so.
I am for putting Solzhenitsyn on trial. If we exile him, then we shall be showing our weakness. We must prepare for the trial, unmask Solzhenitsyn in the press, institute a case against him, conduct an investigation and forward the matter to court through the Procuracy.
[Dmitry] POLYANSKY. Can he be arrested before the trial?
ANDROPOV. Yes. I have consulted Rudenko about this.
PODGORNY. With regard to exiling him to another country, it would be completely unfeasible to do so without the consent of that country.
ANDROPOV. We shall start working toward exile, but at the same time, initiate a case against him, isolate him.
PODGORNY. If we exile him abroad, he will continue to cause us damage.
GROMYKO. It looks as if we shall have to choose the domestic version.
ANDROPOV. I think that it will be worse if we continue to drag out the case against Solzhenitsyn.
PODGORNY. We can delay the matter with Solzhenitsyn, such as by stretching out the investigation. But let him spend that time in prison.
SHELEPIN. When we met three months ago with comrade Kosygin and discussed the measures that should be employed toward Solzhenitsyn, we decided against employing administrative measures. It was right at the time. Now the situation has changed. Solzhenitsyn has gone directly against the Soviet power, the Soviet state. I think it would benefit us to resolve the Solzhenitsyn issue before the end of the European Conference. That would show our consistent adherence to principle. If we initiate this action after the Conference, we shall be accused of insincerity when we made decisions at the Conference, that we are already starting to breach these decisions and so forth. We have a clean and correct line. We shall not allow anyone to violate our Soviet laws. In my opinion, exiling him abroad is an unsuitable measure. I do not think foreign states should be involved in this matter. We have judicial bodies, so let them start the investigation, then handle the trial.
BREZHNEV. The matter of Solzhenitsyn is not easy, but highly complex. The bourgeois press is attempting to tie the Solzhenitsyn issue with the conduct of our large actions aimed at global peaceful settlement. How should we deal with Solzhenitsyn? I believe that it would be best to act in compliance with our Soviet laws.
EVERYONE. Yes, that’s right.
BREZHNEV. Our Procuracy can begin the investigation, prepare the indictment, give a detailed explanation of this indictment as to his guilt. Solzhenitsyn has already been in prison, served a term of punishment for crude violation of Soviet legislation and was later rehabilitated. But how was he rehabilitated? He was rehabilitated by two people—[Olga] Shatunovskaya and [Alexey] Snegov. In accordance with our legislation, he should be denied communication abroad while under investigation. The investigation should be conducted openly and show the people his hostile anti-Soviet activities, his desecration of our Soviet system, smearing the memory of the great leader V.I. Lenin, the founder of the party and state, profaning the memory of the victims of the Great Patriotic War, justifying counterrevolutionaries and blatantly violating our laws. He should be tried on the basis of our legislation.
There was a time when we did not fear facing up to the counterrevolution in Czechoslovakia. We did not fear allowing Alliluyeva to leave the country. We survived all that. I think we shall survive this too. We should publish well-argued articles, give a clear and precise response to the writings of such a journalist as Olson and publish articles in other newspapers.
I have discussed the influence of our measures against Solzhenitsyn at the European Conference with comrade Gromyko. I think this will have no great effect. It is probably unfeasible to exile him, as nobody will want to accept him. It was one thing when Kuznetsov and others fled by themselves, and quite another when we exile someone by administrative order.
For this reason I think it is essential to charge the KGB and the Procuracy with devising the sequence of bringing Solzhenitsyn to trial, allowing for all that has been said here, and approve the relevant measures of legal order at a meeting of the Politburo.
PODGORNY. He should be arrested and indicted.
BREZHNEV. Let comrades Andropov and Rudenko work out the whole procedure of indictment properly, in accordance with our legislation.
I consider it essential to charge comrades Andropov, Demichev and Katushev with preparing information for the secretaries of fraternal communist and workers’ parties in socialist countries and other leaders of fraternal communist parties about our measures regarding Solzhenitsyn.
EVERYONE. Right. Agreed.
The following resolution was approved:
On measures for prevention of the anti-Soviet activity of A.I. Solzhenitsyn
- A.I. Solzhenitsyn is to be brought to book for vicious anti-Soviet activity, expressed in supplying foreign publishers and press agencies with manuscripts, books, letters, interviews containing slander of the Soviet system, the Soviet Union, the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and their internal and foreign policy, that desecrate the bright memory of V.I. Lenin and other functionaries of the CPSU and the Soviet government, victims of the Great Patriotic War and the fascist German occupation, justifying the actions of both internal and foreign counterrevolutionaries and groups and elements hostile to the Soviet system, and also crude violation of the rules governing publication of his literary works by foreign publishers, established by the Universal Copyright Convention (Geneva).
- Charge comrades Yu.V. Andropov and R.A. Rudenko with determining the sequence and procedure of the conduct of the investigation and trial of A.I. Solzhenitsyn in accordance with the exchange of opinions in the Politburo and their own proposals on this matter, to be submitted to the CC CPSU.
- Charge comrades Andropov, Demichev and Katushev with preparing information for the first secretaries of the Central Committees of Communist and workers’ parties in socialist countries and certain capitalist countries regarding our measures against Solzhenitsyn with mention of the exchange of opinions at the Politburo meeting and submit the same to the CC CPSU.
- Charge the Secretariat of the CC with determining the date for sending this information to fraternal parties.
It is obvious that the leaders had no interest in legality, and if they ever recalled the law, it was only in connection with its severity. It appears that they genuinely believed that whatever they decided would be legal. It is highly unlikely that any of them thought, for example, that a decision on the institution of a criminal case can be made only by the Procuracy, or that “the order and procedure for the conduct of an investigation and a trial” are regulated by the Criminal Procedure Code of the RSFSR and thus cannot be determined by either the head of the KGB or the Procurator General.
Never mind the law, they had trouble coping with reality: their conviction that “thousands of workers get killed” in England is an illustrative gem. Or their claim that they “did not fear allowing Alliluyeva to leave the country.” There is also their unfounded conviction that the people support their repressions.
Significantly, at this very time the Western press was full of materials by “Sovietologists” about the struggle between the “doves” and the “hawks” in the Kremlin, and worse still, Western politicians believed these tales. Détente ruled—it was the most idiotic period in postwar history. But how easy it is to believe, on the strength of the above minutes, that the only “dove” was Andropov, and even he preferred to exile Solzhenitsyn. It was well and good for the Politburo to decide what others should do, shouldering no responsibility for the implementation of its decisions. Andropov knew that he would be blamed for all the negative consequences of an arrest and trial of Solzhenitsyn. So naturally enough, he found a way to reverse the Politburo’s decision by 180 degrees or, rather, found a country that was willing to accept Solzhenitsyn without the latter’s consent.
For Andropov, and to a degree Gromyko, the Politburo’s decision on the criminal prosecution of Solzhenitsyn was extremely unwelcome. Not only had the Politburo disagreed with them and rejected their proposals—that defeat in itself did not bode well for the future—but all their crafty détente games came under threat. What else could they do but turn to their partners in this game—the German social democrats? And these partners did not let them down. We shall return to this subject in greater detail, regarding what all this meant and where it was leading. The whole of chapter 4 will be devoted to this issue. At this point it suffices to say that a solution was found within one month: the chancellor of the FRG, Willy Brandt, made the unexpected announcement on 2 February that Solzhenitsyn could work and live in the FRG without impediment. As Solzhenitsyn said later in his “The Oak and the Calf”: “He said it—so he said it.”
Andropov hastened to inform the CC (7 February 1974*, 350-A/ov) that:
BRANDT’S announcement provided grounds for Solzhenitsyn’s expulsion to the FRG pursuant to the Order of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR and deprivation of Soviet citizenship. This decision shall be legal and takes into consideration the materials available regarding SOLZHENITSYN’S criminal activities.
Moreover, in order to be sure of gaining his ends, Andropov took two further steps: first, he inspired the report by two subordinates, Viktor Chebrikov and Philipp Bobkov, on feelings within the country in connection with the Solzhenitsyn case, stating that Solzhenitsyn had numerous admirers even among the working class, who consider that he advocated the lowering of prices and “opposes the export of goods vital to the people under the guise of aid to Arab countries.”
Second, he wrote personally to Brezhnev (7 February 1974*) that the Solzhenitsyn matter “presently falls outside the scope of a criminal case and has turned into a pressing problem, with certain political overtones.”
Dear Leonid Ilyich, before sending this letter, we in the Committee once again weighed up carefully all the possible losses that could arise with regard to the expulsion (to a lesser degree) and arrest (to a greater degree) of Solzhenitsyn. Such losses are certain to occur. Unfortunately, we have no other way out, as Solzhenitsyn’s unpunished behavior is already causing us much greater damage inside the country than will arise in the international sphere in the event of Solzhenitsyn’s expulsion or arrest.
In other words, Andropov got what he wanted, and he was quite right: less damage resulted from expulsion. This is why this method of political punishment became so popular toward the end of the 1970s. But there is another question regarding domestic damage resulting from the “unpunished behavior” of any one of us, and it should be noted that the fact that such damage was greater than the other costs to the regime was not disputed by any Politburo member. Such a high evaluation of the effectiveness of our activities is extremely interesting. It explains a great deal. The system could survive only on the condition of the monopolistic rule of the party and the ideology over the country—above the law, logic and common sense. The appearance of an opposition, no matter how insignificant in numbers, even one person, heralded its end. This is probably what one of them had in mind when he spoke of “sovereignty.” The Politburo sensed this infringement of sovereignty from the very beginning of our movement.
Back in 1968, after the Ginzburg-Galanskov trial (26 January 1968, 181-A, p. 3), Andropov had written, “It is now quite clear that Western propaganda and the group of abovementioned individuals, being an instrument in the hands of our opponents, are attempting to legalize the conduct of anti-Soviet activity inside our country, to achieve impunity for hostile actions.”
As far as he was concerned, our scrupulous openness, legality, and appeals to the law were much more dangerous than any underground conspiracies or terrorism (20 January 1977*, 123-A): “In recent years, the opponent’s special services and propagandist agencies are attempting to create the impression of the existence of a so-called ‘internal opposition’ in the Soviet Union, undertake measures to support the inspirers of antisocial manifestations and objectively cooperate in the consolidation of participants in various spheres of anti-Soviet activity.” He reported with concern on the appearance of the Helsinki Groups in 1976 (15 November 1976*, 2577-A): “While at this stage prioritizing the achievement of anti-Soviet aims by illegal methods of subversion, the enemy is simultaneously trying to incite hostile actions in legal or semilegal forms.”
Of course, arrests and expulsions were not the only reactions of the regime to these attempts. The entire arsenal of measures, from psychiatric incarceration and slander campaigns (“compromising”) to threats and blackmail was pressed into service. It is characteristic that in 1977, as we have seen, the party even tried to ensure its monopolistic status through the Constitution, openly expressing this for the first time in its history in article 6 of the new Constitution of the USSR.
That was how they defended their “sovereignty” from our “infringements,” partially accepting the rules of the game that we offered. It cannot be said that the regime did not display a fair amount of flexibility. Nonetheless, despite all the “damage” incurred, it could not manage without the usual repressions (29 December 1975* (3213-A), p. 4):
At the same time, it is currently impossible to abandon the criminal prosecution of individuals pitting themselves against the Soviet system, as this would lead to an increase in particularly dangerous state crimes and antisocial manifestations.
This was written by Andropov in December 1975, after the signing of the Helsinki Accords; he thereby accepts the inevitability of external “damage” from their future violation as the lesser of two evils. The “damage” in question was far from minor. Not only did the “bourgeois” public opinion turn out to be sharply opposed to the USSR (something that could still be ascribed to “imperialist schemes”), but also opinion in “progressive” circles. Even many Western communist parties, especially the larger ones that were therefore more dependent on public opinion in their countries, were forced—albeit with reservations and reluctance—to voice condemnation of such practices. However hypocritical these condemnations may have been, the threat of a schism in the communist movement, and especially the political isolation of the USSR, was real enough.
Needless to say, the Politburo was very concerned by this development. According to Andropov (29 December 1975*, 3213-A):
In recent times, the subversive activity of hostile bourgeois propaganda regarding Soviet democracy and that of other socialist countries is exploiting certain statements made by the leaders of the French and Italian Communist Parties, aimed against the Soviet Union and other socialist countries on matters relating to Soviet democracy. … The problem arising in connection with statements made by leaders of the French and Italian Communist Parties, apart from the ideologically theoretical aspect, also has a practical side affecting the matter of ensuring the security of the Soviet state. … The thesis advanced by “Humanite” about granting freedom of action under socialist conditions to those who “assert their disagreement with the system embraced by the majority” offers objective support to opponents of socialism in their efforts to create a legal opposition in the Soviet Union and other socialist countries, to undermine the leading role of communist and workers’ parties.
Comrades voicing similar views, even after the events in Hungary and Czechoslovakia, refuse to see that under the conditions of developed socialism, despite the monopolistic and political unity of society, there are still anti-Soviet manifestations in one form or another, to a greater or lesser degree. … Available data demonstrate the aim of enemy special services and ideological centers to unite the actions of hostile elements of all sorts. … It is clear from the above that a refusal to put an end to the politically harmful activities of “dissidents” and other hostile elements, as advocated by French and Italian comrades, would result in extremely serious negative consequences. […]
It would be desirable to hold relevant high-level discussions with our French and Italian comrades at a suitable time and explain to them that the struggle against so-called “dissidents” is not an abstract question of democracy in general, but a vital need to safeguard the security of the Soviet state.
For this reason, starting at the end of 1975, the Politburo sent several lengthy missives to the leadership of “fraternal parties” in general, and the CC of the French Communist Party in particular. The first such missive, sent in December 1975, was very carefully and diplomatically worded (18 December 1975, Pb 198/93, p. 5):
Comrades, we quite understand that the French Communist Party is engaged in an unrelenting struggle for democracy in France, against the efforts of reactionary forces to encroach on workers’ rights. This is a lawful endeavor, which has our full understanding and support. But one cannot defend freedom in France while tolerating frequent attacks on the Soviet Union, thereby damaging the relations between our parties. …
Of course, just like other countries, we have our share of criminal elements, which the Soviet Union needs to isolate in places of confinement and corrective labor. But this has nothing to do with violation of the democratic freedoms of Soviet citizens. We can tell you in all conscience that very few persons, out of a population of 250 million, are convicted by Soviet courts and then only in full compliance with the Constitution and in observance of the norms of judicial democratic procedure, and only if they engage in hostile activity against the socialist system and the Soviet state.
Another, longer missive on the same subject followed hard on the heels of this one, in January 1976 (14 January 1976, Pb 201/44), addressed to all “fraternal parties,” with a detailed rebuttal of the “fabrications of anti-Soviet propaganda.” It was sent first to twenty-two parties, and around a month later, on 5 February 1976, to a further thirteen, including even the most insignificant, or those operating underground.111 But after several months, diplomacy yielded to annoyance, and an alarmed Andropov reported the following to the International Department of the CC (25 October 1976*, 25-S-2025):
There has been a noticeable upsurge in the anti-Soviet campaign supporting “dissidents” sentenced by Soviet courts for hostile activity in a number of capitalist countries. To this end, organizers of such campaigns have attempted to lure representatives of progressive organizations into taking part in their activities in order to lend them the appearance of “objectivity,” and also to “tie in” their words of support for “dissidents” with declarations of support for victims of abuse in capitalist countries.
On 21 October of this year, there was a meeting in Paris in support of Bukovsky, and simultaneously one in support of the Uruguayan communist Masser and a number of others. The meeting was attended by representatives of the French Communist Party, in view of which the CC CPSU sent a letter to the leadership of the FCP (resolution of the CC CPSU N030/43 dated 18 October of this year).
We deem it feasible to send orientation advice on these matters to Soviet ambassadors in countries where such attempts may be made (Italy, Great Britain, USA, FRG, Japan, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Switzerland, Sweden and Norway). The text of telegrams to Soviet ambassadors in those countries is attached.
Obviously this was not the end of the matter, and at the beginning of 1977 the Politburo sent another long missive to the French Communist Party, which was much more harshly worded.
It was not just a letter, but a full-blown theoretical discourse, aimed at explaining the class nature of democracy and human rights to errant French comrades. Work on this letter took more than a month; it was discussed by the Politburo several times, amended, and finally sent to the addressee (15 March 1977*, Pb 49/XV, pp. 6–7) and, at the end of March, to all the communist parties of the world.112 Instead of the usual vituperation, the result was a fundamental “class” determination:113
After all, the emergence of an insignificant handful of counter-revolutionaries, who broke away from the very basis of our system, entered on the path of struggle against it and, as a rule, were linked with imperialist circles, is by no means a lawful outcome of the internal development of the Soviet Union. Admittedly, in the past there were groups of people and even political parties that opposed the Soviet system openly. They frequently progressed from words to deeds—up to attempts to assassinate V.I. Lenin and other leaders of the communist party and the Soviet government. At that time, such groups leaned on as-yet-unliquidated, exploitative classes.
We have no such classes now and, it follows, no social bases for anti-Soviet groups. However, there are isolated instances of anti-Soviet manifestations. This is not surprising. The development of political awareness of multimillion popular masses, their upbringing in the spirit of socialist ideology, morality and rectitude, overcoming private ownership ideology and morality, obviation of the remnants of capitalism in the popular consciousness are essentially slower than the restructuring of the material base of society. Moreover, they occur today against a background of massive, daily anti-Soviet propaganda and direct subversive activities of imperialist centers that are hostile to socialism and that have stepped up their work to a significant degree. Remnants of capitalism in the perception of certain individuals are systematically fed and encouraged from abroad by imperialist propaganda centers.
[…]
In trying to create the impression that there are numerous opponents of socialism in the USSR, our class enemies sink to tricks of all kinds. One of the most frequently employed is to call “dissidents” all those who for some reason have a personal opinion on some matter that differs from a generally accepted view, even writers and actors who have professional differences with their creative organizations. The falsity of such stratagems is despicable.
[…]
The close bond between the activity of “dissidents” and the process of global class struggle can be seen in the following. The first of the people emerging as active opponents of the Soviet system declared themselves in the mid-1960s, that is at the beginning of the period of détente, when imperialism floated the slogan of the “softening” of socialism. Accusations addressed to the Soviet Union and other socialist countries, proclaimed by them then just as today, are exactly the same as those employed then and now by bourgeois propagandists. Their demands coincided with Western demands concerning the “softening” of socialism. Numerous facts indicate that this is not by chance, that in most cases the so-called fighters for the perfecting of socialism receive materials with slanderous claims from abroad—from bourgeois special services. […]
When some “dissident” or other arrives in the West, he quickly sheds the false mask of a “fighter wanting to perfect socialism” and emerges as a dyed-in-the-wool reactionary, a monarchist (like Solzhenitsyn) or admirer of [Franz Josef] Strauss and [Margaret] Thatcher (like Bukovsky), urging Western leaders to undertake even more active confrontation with the Soviet Union and other socialist countries. This has already been noticed by many fraternal parties, including communists in Great Britain, Holland, Austria, Portugal, Greece, Finland and others. It is reported in their press. Strangely, certain leaders of the French Communist Party have remained silent. Furthermore, they appeal to us to allow such people “unlimited freedom of expression” and to enter into “discussion” with them!
Basically, this document was not really about us, it concerned the French Communist Party and its positions. It amounted to a virtual ultimatum, falling little short of a declaration of total severance of relations:
Recent interviews of representatives of the French Communist Party and anti-Soviet broadcasts on French television show critics of various aspects of socialist democracy in the Soviet Union and other socialist countries, in which representatives of the leadership of the FCP actually reach the point of attempting to cast doubt on the correspondence of the political system in the USSR and other socialist countries to the interests of their citizens. We are openly called upon to review or, in fact, to abandon the entire system of Soviet democracy in order to grant unlimited “freedoms” to all opponents of socialism. …
Therefore this is not subject to discussion, and anyone insisting otherwise is an enemy of the USSR.
Tensions in relations with the Italian Communist Party were less obvious, less “public”, but no less dangerous and also continued to rise. In August 1976, replying to a letter from Enrico Berlinguer, the General Secretary of the PCI, regarding my case, the Politburo was scrupulously polite and diplomatic. Citing the usual “information” concerning my anti-Soviet activities, they wrote (29 August 1976, Pb 24/25):
It can be concluded from your letter that Italian comrades lack sufficient information about Bukovsky’s anti-Soviet activity. … As you can see, comrade Berlinguer, the point at issue is not about a way of thinking, but concrete anti-Soviet acts of a citizen who bears full responsibility for them. He is not in prison for his convictions and views, we do not try anyone for their ideas, but for acts committed that are punishable in judicial court.
Yet half a year later, the tone begins to change, and upon the PCI’s continuing participation in various campaigns on human rights, becomes increasingly strident. Boris Ponomarev and V. Kuznetsov reported the following to the CC (27 September 1977* (St 74/6), p. 12):
According to reports received, there is a new wave of an anti-Soviet and antisocialist campaign in Italy, the focus of which is on alleged “dissidents.” There are active preparations for the so-called “Sakharov Hearings” in Rome (25–27 November), “discussions with dissidents” in Florence, the international arts exhibition in Venice (the Biennale) for propaganda about the activities of dissidents (15 November–17 December). These manifestations are masterminded by imperialist propaganda services and are timed to immediately follow our main events marking the 60th anniversary of the October [Revolution] and pursue the aim of discrediting real socialism. Preparations for these manifestations are being conducted with the full approval of the Italian authorities, which clearly runs counter to the Helsinki Accords. On a number of occasions, representatives of the Italian Communist Party have allowed themselves to be put on the leash of the organizers of the indicated initiatives, they have participated in some of them, and the party press has published various materials about “dissidents,” thereby objectively increasing the interest of Italian society in them.
Their proposed “plan of informative and propagandistic measures for counteracting anti-Soviet actions in Italy” envisaged a collection of complex measures, from official embassy protests to publications in the Soviet press, to appearances on Italian television of Soviet journalists, writers, and cultural figures related to the “Week of Soviet Cinema” in Italy, to the sending of a delegation of Soviet writers to Italy for public appearances.
However, subsequent events were not conducive to the improvement of bilateral relations. On the contrary, trials of members of the Helsinki Groups, the invasion of Afghanistan, Sakharov’s exile, the military situation in Poland—all these were causes for differences. By 1980 Moscow was already oriented toward a split with the PCI, supporting its internal groups that “maintain positions friendly to us, and critical of the erroneous actions of the leadership of the PCI.”114
Granted, these were just part of the “damage” the regime inflicted upon itself by its repressive policies, but they are an indicator of how successful our campaigning in defense of rights proved in the West. European communist parties joined in, not because they were doing well, but because they simply could not stand aside without discrediting themselves. Public reaction was too strong for any politician to ignore. It is not surprising that soon afterward this campaign became a factor in intergovernmental relations (the Jackson-Vanik Amendment in 1974, the so-called third basket of the Helsinki Accords in 1975), and by 1977, with the election of Jimmy Carter as the president of the USA, it was almost a key question in East-West relations.
These developments were an absolute catastrophe for the USSR, threatening it with political isolation. The Politburo sent the following order to its ambassador in Washington (18 February 1977, Pb 46/10):
Meet Vance and tell him that you have been instructed to bring the following to the attention of President Carter and his Secretary of State, and that such interference in our internal affairs on the pretext of concern for “human rights” does not alter the substance of the matter.
It stands to reason that everyone has the right to have a personal opinion about anything, including on how matters stand regarding freedom and human rights in one country or another. We also have our own view on these questions and their status in the USA.
But it is another matter to introduce such views into the sphere of interstate relations, thereby complicating them. …
It is not hard to imagine what would happen if we acted on the basis of our moral values, and were to link the development of interstate relations with the USA and other capitalist countries with such genuine problems in those countries as widespread unemployment, discrimination against ethnic minorities, racial discrimination, female inequality, violation of the rights of citizens by state administrative agencies, persecution of persons with progressive convictions, etc.
My meeting with Carter exactly ten days after this démarche probably cast the Politburo into a panic. It did not know how to react, let alone how to inform the population. In the end the news agency TASS supplied a draft on instructions from the CC (1 March 1977*, St 46/15, p. 2):
RECEPTION AT THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON, 1 March (TASS). Today, President of the USA J. Carter received criminal Bukovsky, who was expelled from the Soviet Union, and who is well known as an active opponent of the development of Soviet-American relations.
A White House spokesman stated that the meeting lasted about an hour and was of an amicable nature (this phrase to be confirmed with the White House statement that will be issued after 2300 hours Moscow time).
This information went to the press without the final phrase—someone decided to remove it at the last moment.
However, the confusion did not last long. By May the entire gigantic Soviet machine of “ideological warfare” had gone into action. Everyone was pressed into service, all “friends” and fellow-travelers, employing all forms of blackmail and threats, promises and bribes. The regime was fighting for its life, for its sovereign right to throw us into prisons and psychiatric institutions, to exile and expel us. Signaling the attack, the Politburo issued a directive to “all Soviet ambassadors and Soviet representations” in the world on 19 May (19 May 1977*, Pb 56/68):
A sweeping and coordinated propaganda campaign has been launched recently in the West regarding alleged “violations of human rights” in the Soviet Union and other socialist countries. The instigators of this clamor, which is of an openly provocative and demagogic nature are, as has occurred frequently in the past, mainly reactionary anticommunist and anti-Soviet forces in the USA and certain countries in Western Europe. It is noteworthy that in this instance this has been joined actively by official Washington circles, moreover from the highest political ranks of the new American administration.
Embassies and Soviet representations are to conduct persistent work on decisively counteracting this hostile campaign, to actively expose its demagogic and slanderous nature that threatens political efforts in the cause of peace, and denoting interference in the internal affairs of other countries. … This work should be conducted on a combative plane, with obvious allowance for the specific country of their location, the positions of its government and the political inclination of the audience or interlocutor, in close coordination with the embassies of fraternal countries.
[This is followed by twenty pages of instructions, counterarguments, specific undertakings and hidden threats.]
In the first place, stress that campaigns of this kind, which are undoubtedly incapable of shaking the socialist system by one iota, may, however, have a negative effect on détente and impede the positive processes occurring in international relations in recent years. …
Dismiss assertions that the campaign advocating the “defense of human rights,” which is hostile to socialist countries and, among other things, public statements on this matter by certain highly-placed officials in the West, are in no way interference in the internal affairs of other countries, but a form of ideological warfare, allegedly acknowledged by socialist countries themselves. …
Stress that we really stand on the point of acknowledging ideological struggle, a struggle for social and political perceptions of the world, which does not cease even in a period of international détente. However, this struggle has nothing in common with the methods and devices of ideological sabotage, with the creation and support of illicit organizations in other countries. …
In view of the circumstance that the propaganda campaign inspired by Washington elicits a negative reaction in the ruling circles of a number of Western countries, it is advisable to make a point of exposing conditions in the USA itself in all discussions on human rights. It is advisable to make convincing use of arguments to discredit the USA’s attempts to position itself as an example of democratic rights and the world’s supreme arbiter. …
It is essential to ensure that the entire operative staff of embassies and representations and correspondents be prepared for discussions on human rights, that they be capable of bringing facts to the attention of the greatest possible number of people capable of influencing state policies and public opinion in the country where they are located. …
You must conduct systematic work on discovering the most vulnerable aspects in the policies and practices of Western countries in the sphere of ensuring human rights, drawing special attention to the relevant legislation and punitive legal practices in those countries, and supply the Center [Central Committee] with proposals for strengthening our propagandist counterattack on Western countries that try to exert political pressure on us under the pretext of “defense of human rights.”
It stands to reason that Western politicians were unable to withstand such a massed attack, especially since the subject of human rights, despite Soviet assertions, was only a fashion for them, and not a long-term strategy. They feared a return to the Cold War, some tried to maintain détente, and Carter needed a strategic arms limitation agreement. In a word, by the end of the year, Western campaigns for human rights had not died completely, but had faded somewhat. In any case, at the November Belgrade Conference on monitoring observance of the Helsinki Accords, only public representatives were not afraid of censuring the USSR; governments chose to limit themselves to generalized, vague formulations.
We shall return later to how and why this came about. Nonetheless, regardless of this, it is inarguable that the regime was prepared to accept colossal outward “damage” if only to avert the emergence of a perfectly peaceful and law-abiding domestic opposition, knowing full well that it could not withstand even a symbolic opposition. It was another matter to attempt to reduce such damage to a minimum, employing repressions as a last resort, but mainly depending on less obvious forms of persecution (resorting to psychiatry, defamatory campaigns, expulsion abroad, etc.). This was how Andropov formulated these policies in 1975 (29 December 1975*, 3213-A, p. 4), immediately after the signing of the Helsinki Accords:
All the above confirms the correctness of our party line for decisive struggle for “the protection of Soviet society from the actions of hostile elements.” To this end, bodies of state security shall continue their efforts to suppress any anti-Soviet activity on the territory of our country. It is feasible to carry out the proven line of a reasonable combination of prophylactic and other operative chekist measures with measures of criminal prosecution when necessary.
The KGB shall maintain a stringent watch to ensure that so-called “dissidents” will be unable to organize an anti-Soviet underground and conduct anti-Soviet activity, including from “legal positions”.
I would say that my main search was for documents relating to the use of psychiatry for repressive purposes, and they proved to be the hardest to find. Was my search being sabotaged by former apparatchiks, or were there really no such documents? Time passed, and I would soon have to give evidence in the Constitutional Court, so I was beginning to panic quietly; these documents were to be the “highlight of the program,” evidence of one of the most vicious crimes of the post-Stalin period, which, as Solzhenitsyn noted acutely, were “the Soviet version of gas chambers.”
To me, this was especially important—it was relevant to my personal case, for which I served my last sentence, was driven out of the country, continued my fight in the West, and finally won. It goes without saying that I have no intention of ascribing this victory just to myself; on the contrary, the achievement lay in that an enormous number of psychiatrists, lawyers, and public figures from all over the world joined the campaign against punitive psychiatry. Despite the political situation, it continued to grow, reaching its apogee in 1977, when the World Congress of Psychiatry in Honolulu censured Soviet abuses in this sphere. This campaign did not dry up, as had happened with previous campaigns; it continued to be a permanent factor influencing public opinion worldwide. In 1983 the Soviet delegation was even expelled from the World Psychiatric Association—or, rather, the Soviets resigned themselves, realizing that expulsion was inevitable.
This was the most convincing victory of our glasnost. The problem was that having started this campaign and even while laying my life on the line, I nevertheless did not know whether I had been correct in my conjectures right until the very end. Of course, the materials I passed to the West in 1970 about six political prisoners who had been sent into psychiatric institutions were genuine, and there was no reason to doubt those people’s sanity. But was that just a chance coincidence, or an arbitrary act on the part of the local authorities or the local KGB? Or was it the conscious policy of the regime? This was something I could not know. There were only guesses based on some indirect evidence. We knew that the first wave of psychiatric repressions began under Khrushchev, shortly after his declaration in 1959 that there were no political prisoners in the USSR, only mentally ill people. But again, we knew of this only empirically; I was incarcerated in a psychiatric institution in 1963 and was a witness to these repressions.
After Khrushchev was ousted, the wave receded for a while, and swelled again at the end of 1968 and beginning of 1969. In any case, many of our friends were thrown into psychiatric institutions in this period.
Moreover, it was not hard to perceive why these “waves” arose: on one hand there was growing dissatisfaction and protests, and on the other there was reluctance to increase visible repressions, to accept external damage in the period of détente. Everything was logical, everything coincided, but it all remained mere guesswork. The official explanation that the Politburo was ignorant of psychiatry and simply believed the doctors was not contradicted. What could I do in the absence of documents? They may not have existed at all, just as documents on the “final solution” of the Jewish question were not found in the archives of the Third Reich.
Yet what I finally found exceeded all my expectations. For a start, nothing was simple with our case in 1967. On 27 January, the day after our arrests, the then head of the KGB, Vladimir Semichastny, and Procurator General Rudenko reported to the Politburo on what they proposed to do with us (27 January 1967*, Pb 32/5, p. 3):
As a result, a group was formed of some 35–40 persons engaged in politically dangerous activity by means of producing and disseminating anti-Soviet literature and organizing various kinds of protests and meetings. The participants in this group appeal to the Western press, which publishes the materials they produce and attempts to distribute them on the territory of the Soviet Union.
After giving a quite detailed description of our activities and listing our names, as well as the names of those who, in their opinion, “incited” us, they wrote, as if in passing, that “it is worth noting that some of these persons are suffering from mental illness.” And further: “The hostile activity of those formerly brought to book on criminal charges and released due to mental illness, P.G. GRIGORENKO, born 1907, former major-general of the Soviet Army, and A.S. [Esenin-]Volpin, born 1924, are also documented.”
This is followed by a more or less standard list of propagandistic and prophylactic measures:
Considering the possibility that bringing the indicated individuals to book on criminal charges will cause a definite reaction within the country and abroad, we deem it feasible to instruct the Department of [Agitation and] Propaganda of the CC and the [Moscow] City Committee of the CPSU to conduct the necessary clarifying work, including addresses by party functionaries, authoritative propagandists, leading functionaries of the Procuracy and State Security in workplaces, offices, and particularly among students.
For their part, the Committee for State Security and the Procuracy of the USSR intend to conduct prophylactic measures at the places of work and study of persons performing antisocial actions due to their political immaturity and insufficient life experience.
At the same time, it appears feasible to prepare detailed material for publication in “Izvestia” explaining the measures implemented, and also to charge the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the USSR, the KGB and the Procuracy to inform our foreign representations abroad.
It looks as though the KGB and the Procuracy feared that there would be a worldwide reaction, just as there had been in the previous year after the trial of Sinyavsky and Daniel. They seemed more inclined to resort to the “psychiatric method,” at least in regard to those “suffering mental illness.” However—by some miracle—the Politburo disagreed with them (27 January 1967* (Pb 32/5), p. 1):
- Withdraw the question from consideration.
- Assign comrades M.L. Suslov, [Arvids] Pelse and V.E. Semichastny to reconsider the question, bearing in mind the opinions expressed at the Politburo meeting and, if necessary, submit them to the CC (including the responsibility of the authors for sending their manuscripts for publication abroad, etc.).
As it turned out, the Politburo did not make any further decisions on this matter, and three months later Semichastny was removed from his post to be replaced by Andropov, who was present at the February meeting. Several months later we were all sentenced and—not a single one of us was declared insane.
All that remains is to guess what had really happened at the Politburo meeting. What was the substance of the disagreement between the party leaders and the lawyers? The only explanation I can think of is that it was the leniency of the proposed measures. I can easily imagine Suslov saying, What have we here, comrades? Do we fear bourgeois propaganda? It would seem that they won the case of Sinyavsky and Daniel, and we cannot bring ourselves to punish those who followed in their footsteps to publish their slander abroad with the full severity of the law.
It is also quite possible that Suslov had long wanted to get rid of Semichastny, who had retained the post of head of the KGB since Khrushchev’s time, so he could replace him with his protégé Andropov. Whatever the situation was (and we shall probably never really know), psychiatric measures were clearly rejected. For some time after Khrushchev they were presumably regarded as too lenient, too great a concession to the West.
However, several years later the situation changed significantly, and in 1969 and the beginning of 1970 several people (Grigorenko, Natalya Gorbanevskaya, Viktor Fainberg and others) were declared mentally ill. On one hand Semichastny proved to be right: our trials caused a colossal response; on the other hand détente with the West had begun and it was vital to find effective means for repressing the growing number of protesters, means that would not attract the attention of global public opinion. In any case, by 1970 the psychiatric method warranted serious discussion in the Politburo as a possible method for mass repressions. The Politburo documents on this matter are extremely interesting, if only because they were classified under the highest category of secrecy: this was not just a general file, but its margins bear an inscription the like of which I have never seen anywhere else (22 January 1970*, Pb 151/XIII):
FOR INFORMATION:
A comrade receiving secret documents may neither pass them, nor disclose their contents, to anyone else without a special provision by the CC.
Copying of the indicated documents or making excerpts from them is categorically forbidden.
A record and date of familiarization are to be made personally on each document by the comrade to whom it was addressed, accompanied by his signature.
The question of the Committee for State Security:
Instruct the Ministry of Health of the USSR, the Committee for State Security and the Ministry of Internal Affairs of the USSR, acting with the participation of Gosplan of the USSR and the Councils of Ministers of Union republics to submit proposals for the establishment, recording and organization of treatment, and in some cases isolation, of mentally ill citizens in the country, and submit the same for examination by the CC CPSU in the first half of 1970.
This initiative certainly came from Andropov, who sent Politburo members a memorandum (dated 15 December 1969) from the KGB of one of the regions, Krasnodar, as an example of what was occurring throughout the country:
Regarding the existence of a significant number of psychiatric hospitals caring for [those] harboring terrorist and other socially dangerous intentions. A similar situation exists in other regions of the country.
This unique document deserves to be cited in full:
The KGB under the Council of Ministers of the USSR in the Krasnodar region possesses materials that indicate that there is a significant number of mentally ill persons who exhibit socially dangerous and hostile signs, harbor criminal, politically harmful intentions, and have a demoralizing effect on the lives of Soviet people. Over the past two years, more than 180 such persons have come to the attention of the regional security service. Some of these issue terrorist threats, intentions to kill representatives of the security service or commit other crimes. G.L. Bychkov and G.B. Mikov made vicious anti-Soviet declarations and issued threats toward several party leaders and the Soviet government; A.P. Vorona also made terrorist threats, drew up a list of active functionaries of the Crimean region who are “subject to destruction” and attempted to form an anti-Soviet group; S.A. Soni raves viciously of intentions to visit Lenin’s Mausoleum and, using a movie camera, bring the leader of the revolution to life, and then kill him again; G.V. Vatintsev visited the Mausoleum, where he committed an audacious, cynical act; O.V. Dmitriev attacked and wounded a government security sergeant in a woodland close to Sochi; V.M. Pikalov threatened one of the leading functionaries of the Anapa city party with physical violence in September 1969 and used photographic means to produce slanderous materials, which he then disseminated.
A number of the mentally ill commit dangerous crimes at the state border, attempting to board foreign vessels with the aim of escaping abroad. In 1969, 19 persons out of a total of 50 attempting to violate the state border or attempting to board vessels of foreign navigation turned out to be psychologically unstable. The following committed particularly dangerous crimes: P.A. Skrylev, who hijacked an AN-2 aircraft, flew off in the direction of Turkey and was shot down with the aid of advance air defense systems over neutral waters; N.A. Korotenko absconded from the recruiting office in the city of Kropotkin, reached Novorossiysk and attempted to board an Italian vessel; V.I. Pavlov attempted to commit high treason using a boat with an outboard motor in the Sochi area in 1968, and had been detained earlier for the same reason in Batumi; V.A. Grekalov made persistent attempts to cross the border.
Some of the mentally ill make their way to Moscow and, displaying fanatical persistence, attempt to meet foreigners or penetrate embassies of capitalist countries with delusional demands or requests for political asylum. In November of this year, P.L. Rybka visited the French embassy; A.I. Cherep tried to enter the US embassy on a number of occasions in 1968; S.V. Rezak attempted to penetrate the embassy of the USA; N.I. Lelyabsky met with English people at the “Inprodmash” exhibition and asked them for political asylum, and attempted to pass across some documents to them.
Many of those suffering mental illness attempt to create new “parties,” various organizations and councils, prepare and disseminate draft charters, program documents and laws. N.S. Sheinin nurtures and tries to impose on others the delusional idea of creating “Councils for control over the activities of the Politburo of the CPSU and local party organizations,” for which purpose he sought out and worked on fellow thinkers, traveled to Moscow in order to meet activists of Communist and Workers’ parties to “discuss” this matter, blackmailed persons unwilling to support him, sent a threatening letter to the secretary of the Novocherkassk headquarters of the CPSU for the Rostov region regarding the known events of 1962;115 A.I. Bekh attempted to create an illicit “party”; V.A. Pak engages in the systematic production and dissemination of documents with politically dangerous content and demands the creation of a so-called global government.
Many of the mentally ill write numerous letters to various regional and central organizations containing slanderous, anti-Soviet concoctions and threats. Of these, D.I. Mikhalchuk, who is attempting to emigrate, sent a letter dated 5 April 1969 and addressed to the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, in which he wrote: “Do you want all my actions to be identical to those at the Borovitsky Gate?” … In a discussion with the chairman of the Belorechensk city executive committee, Mikhalchuk stated that he is not responsible for his actions and may commit a crime.
There are quite a few among the mentally ill who are inclined to commit attacks, rapes and murder, while some actually do attempt and commit such crimes. For example, during an aggravated period of their illness L.G. Buznitsky beheaded his ten-year-old son, B.M. Onelyan murdered her husband and A.M. Ponomarenko murdered his sister.
According to data from psychiatric institutions, out of the total of 55,800 mentally ill persons, many are aggressive or malevolent and some 700 of them pose a danger to the public. The majority of them reside in Krasnodar, Sochi, Novorossiysk, Maykop, Gelendzhik, Yeysk and Crimean districts.
In order to prevent dangerous actions by the indicated category of persons, the regional state security bodies are forced to implement necessary measures, which involve a great deal of manpower and expense.
At present, according to data supplied by regional health authorities, eleven to twelve thousand persons stand in need of hospitalization, but medical facilities of the relevant profile have only 3,785 beds.
For the purposes of preventing dangerous manifestations by persons suffering mental illness, in our opinion—one that is shared by managers of health care agencies in the region—there is a need for further improvement in the system of measures required for their identification, registration, hospitalization and treatment, as well as for control over their behavior outside the walls of medical facilities.
The regional party committee and the regional executive committee are to be informed of the above.
Head of the Administration of the KGB under the Council of Ministers of the USSR for the Krasnodar region Major-General V. Smorodinsky
15 December 1969
This amazing document is the acme of chekist duplicity. For a start, it was doubtless inspired by Andropov himself; the head of the regional KGB had no reason, nor was he obligated, to write such generalized memoranda to his boss. Moreover, he had probably informed Andropov of every cited case in the past. Was it possible that Moscow had not been advised immediately about the shooting down of a plane “over neutral waters”? Did they not know in Moscow about visits by people from Krasnodar to foreign embassies or Lenin’s Mausoleum, even though an “audacious, cynical act” had taken place there? If the sending of this memorandum was Major-General Smorodinsky’s own idea, he would surely have added the sacred bureaucratic phrase as I have already reported after describing the situation. These words do not occur even once, as though all these data had been collected by the poor general for two years, until he could stand no more.
Furthermore, the selection of examples focuses consciously on the danger of terrorist acts by the mentally ill. It is noteworthy that the matter occurred at the end of 1969, that is, shortly after the notorious attempt to assassinate Brezhnev—the act “at the Borovitsky Gate”—committed by Ilyin, who was immediately declared to be insane and confined in the Kazan special hospital with a “lifetime bed” (he was released only toward the end of the 1980s and showed no signs of mental illness). It appears that both the writer and the readers are perfectly aware of the substance of the matter. They know what is meant by “mental illness” and “danger to the public”: they relate to people who have been driven to their breaking point and are no longer receptive to chekist “prophylactic measures.”
Consequently it becomes clear why the Krasnodar region had been chosen as the origin of this document: it hosts numerous state health resorts and is close to the border with a capitalist country, Turkey. In other words, there were more desperate attempts there on average than elsewhere in the country. Andropov was certainly lying when he claimed in his accompanying note that “a similar situation exists in other regions of the country.” This could not occur in regions that have no direct access to a border. Nobody would hijack a plane in the Ryazan region, because there was no way it could reach a capitalist country. Nor were there any “vessels of foreign navigation” to be found, or other objects likely to tempt a Soviet citizen. In such areas, the statistics on local “mental illnesses” would be incomparably lower.
Finally, let us look at the cited figures. The total figure of mentally ill people in the region was said to be 55,800, of whom 11,000 to 12,000 required hospitalization, and around 700 posed a “danger to the public.” So the members of the Politburo would have no trouble understanding the scope of the problem, insofar as the situation was “similar” to everywhere in the USSR, which comprises about a hundred regions and districts. This meant that there would be some 70,000 “dangerous” individuals and 1.2 million requiring hospitalization. It meant, no more and no less, that there was good reason for the creation of a psychiatric gulag. The Politburo was agreeable to its creation, and in a short time at that: it planned to solve this problem within half a year!
It is not hard to understand why Andropov wanted to play it safe by forwarding his subordinate’s memorandum to the Politburo, something that he did not usually do either before or after this occasion. After all, it was only three years ago that his predecessor Semichastny had been stung over the issue of psychiatry, having demonstrated his “leniency” toward enemies. Who could be sure that the Politburo would not kick up again? The more so because the issue related to such sweeping action—a shift in the entire punitive policy. So Andropov is trying to scare the old men of the Politburo by reporting a massive outbreak of insanity in the Krasnodar region, as though this situation had come into being only then, and for unknown reasons.
When I was released from a camp in January 1970, I did not have the slightest idea that right at that time the Politburo had reached a decision that would see me back in prison. None of us could have ever imagined such a state of affairs.
All we noticed was that the number of those declared insane in our cases had increased significantly. It was also obvious that psychiatrists were busily devising a special system of diagnosis, very well suited for mass application to political opponents and indeed to anyone dissatisfied with the regime. Questionable terms such as “reformist delusions” appeared, and Professor Andrey Snezhnevsky’s “sluggish schizophrenia,” which up to that time had been considered disputable, found acceptance. It was perfectly clear that we were earmarked for psychiatric repression, although we had no idea of the scope of preparations for it.
However, it turned out that our campaign had hit the bull’s-eye. Half a year had not yet passed, and the Politburo had not reached a final decision, when my first interviews appeared in the Western press, and by summer they were on television, where the question of psychiatric repression became a top story. It was as though we had caught them red-handed at the scene of the crime, and quite by chance at that. It is probably like this in wartime, when a rogue shell hits the arsenal and scuppers the impending attack. The regime had to defend itself with all it had, and the decision to create a psychiatric gulag was shelved for two years at least. When discussion of this matter was resumed, it was only in January 1972, soon after my trial—and who can say whether this was coincidental or linked? After all, I had been tried and sentenced for slandering Soviet psychiatry. The atmosphere was too explosive. There had been too much talk of abuse of psychiatry to go back to the original plan without adding more fuel to the fire. What secrecy could there be if all the Western mass media were trumpeting Soviet psychiatric repressions?
In essence, the discussion was reduced to simply analyzing the state of psychiatry in the country. A special commission of the Council of Ministers was appointed to study the situation, the so-called Rakovsky Commission, which found, among other things, that all political considerations aside, the situation was highly unsatisfactory (22 February 1972*, St-31/19, pp. 3–5):
According to the data of the Ministry of Health of the USSR, an increase in mental illness has been noted throughout the country. If at the beginning of 1966 there were 2,114,000 individuals on record receiving extramural treatment in psycho-neurological institutions, then at the beginning of 1971 this figure rose to 3,700,000, with a further 280,000 receiving in-house treatment in clinics.
The number of psychiatric hospital beds sufficient for the population per capita is two and a half times below the required norm. The material bases of the majority of psychiatric clinics are unsatisfactory, most of them are located in unequipped premises that are unsuitable for the normal accommodation of patients. Numerous hospitals have only 2.0–2.5 square meters per patient, while the norm is 7 square meters. Quite frequently patients have to share a bed or sleep on the floor. Some hospitals have built two-tier bunk beds […]
Difficulties with hospitalization of the mentally ill and their premature discharge from clinics lead to the result that there are seriously ill and frequently dangerous people at loose in the community.
Data from the Ministry of Internal Affairs of the USSR and the KGB under the Council of Ministers of the USSR indicate an increase in the number of murders, robberies, thefts and other serious crimes committed by persons suffering mental problems that have increased in recent times. In 1970 they committed 6493 crimes, including 937 murders. Some of the indicated crimes were committed with particular cruelty and involved a large number of victims. […]
The resolution of the CC CPSU and the Council of Ministers of the USSR dated 5 July 1968 N517, “On measures for the further improvement of health and development of medical science in the country,” envisages the building and commissioning of no less than 125 psychiatric hospitals with a capacity of 500 beds each by 1975. The economic plan for 1971–1975 includes the building of 114 psychiatric hospitals and the commissioning of 43,800 beds.
In 1971 the Ministry of Health of the USSR and the Ministry of Internal Affairs under the Council of Ministers of the USSR submitted a draft resolution to the Council of Ministers on measures for the further improvement of medical assistance to mentally ill patients […]
Overall, the business clogged up for a long time and passed into the sphere of purely professional problems, losing its political character. Naturally, the number of psychiatric hospitals increased toward the end of the 1970s, as had been planned, but the number of people relegated to them for political reasons did not increase, not even in proportion with the number of hospitals. This is not surprising in view of the scope of the global campaign against the abuse of psychiatry, as Andropov reported to the CC (10 September 1976*):
An anti-Soviet campaign containing crude falsifications alleging the abuse of psychiatry in the USSR as an instrument in the political struggle against “dissidents” is being waged in a number of Western countries. The ideological centers and special services of the foe are attracting mass media, use the podiums of scientific forums, inciting anti-Soviet “demonstrations” and “protests.” … The latest data show that this campaign is a thoroughly prepared anti-Soviet action. The organizers of slanderous declamations are apparently attempting to turn opinions toward the public condemnation of “abuse of psychiatry in the USSR” at the forthcoming [Sixth] World Congress of Psychiatry (Honolulu, USA) in August 1977, hoping to achieve a negative political resonance on the eve of the sixtieth anniversary of the Great October Socialist Revolution. […]
Note that all this is written without a trace of irony, as if it were not Andropov himself who had sent this material and proposals regarding the creation of a psychiatric gulag to the same CC (22 October 1976, No. 2750):116
The Ministry of Health of the USSR is working to locate progressively minded prominent psychiatrists in the USA, England, France and other capitalist countries and invite them to the USSR to participate in scientific conferences and symposia, informing them of the achievements of psychiatric help in our country. The aim is to use their positive reactions in propagandistic work abroad. […]
The Ministry of Health of the USSR and the Ministry of Internal Affairs of the USSR have organized inspections of special hospitals in which the enforced treatment of mentally ill persons is performed for purposes of improving medical service to this category of patients. It is presumed that where necessary, certain such hospitals may be shown to foreign specialists.
Undoubtedly, “progressive” Western colleagues would not be shown ordinary psychiatric hospitals, where there were not enough beds, so patients had to double up or sleep on the floor. Still, some of them might be “progressive” enough for this not to bother them, as Soviet “parliamentarian” Yuri Zhukov reported to the CC (16 November 1976):117
On the last day of the visit of the Portuguese parliamentary delegation to the USSR, a member of this delegation, which I escorted, [Antonio] Fernandes da Fonseca, a prominent specialist in the field of neuropathology and psychiatry, a deputy of the Socialist Party, told me the following in confidence. According to data in his possession, anti-Soviet-inclined American activists intend to use the forthcoming World Conference of Psychiatry in 1977 in Honolulu to organize a scurrilous anti-Soviet campaign in connection with widespread slanderous allegations in the West to the effect that our psychiatric hospitals are used for incarcerating “dissidents.”
[…]
In connection with this, A. Fernandes da Fonseca asked to be supplied with relevant data for the preparation of his address at the Congress. According to him, these data would be used to acquaint prominent psychiatrists from other countries in which Portuguese is spoken. …
[…]
A. Fernandes da Fonseca stressed that what is needed now is not general statements of a political nature that expose the absurdity of American accusations, but specific scientific material—diagnoses and information on the treatment of such individuals as Plyushch, Bukovsky and others, who are being hailed as “innocent victims.”
How I would like to meet this Antonio Fernandes da Fonseca now, preferably in the presence of journalists or on television. But he would not dare, just like all our opponents during the Cold War. Even if he were to be brought by force, he would not repent. It is a given that he would whine that he “didn’t know,” that he “believed,” and that it is all the fault of the Americans. In any event, neither Leonid Plyushch nor I ever received any apologies from him.
It need hardly be said how delighted Soviet psychiatrists were to obtain a voluntary assistant, one who would allow them to employ him “in the future also, and make use of his possibilities for disseminating information we find useful” (13 December 1976, No. 3193).118
They really had too much work to do: practically every year a “Plan of Measures for Exposing the Anti-Soviet Slanderous Campaign Concerning So-Called “Political Abuses” in Psychiatry” had to be drawn up and approved by the CC. These are impressive documents, containing a detailed scheme for an international countercampaign involving all possibilities: the press, television, Soviet diplomacy, and KGB measures. They set out tactics and strategy, both prior to condemnation in Honolulu and afterward. But if before Honolulu this scheme was mainly a complex of defensive measures of a propagandistic nature, then after Honolulu it was a desperate struggle for survival.
Condemnation in Honolulu was a cruel defeat for the regime, going far beyond the boundaries of psychiatry. First and foremost because even the most strenuous efforts of the Soviet foreign policy machine could not avert it.119 Justifying itself to the CC, the leadership of Soviet psychiatry gave a detailed list of all the measures taken (21 November 1977, No. 3042):120
In preparing for the Congress, the Ministry of Health of the USSR analyzed the main anti-Soviet publications, and reasoned counterarguments were drawn up; a number of symposia took place with the participation of prominent foreign specialists, and participation in the programs of the World Health Organization was activated. Shortly before the Congress, Soviet psychiatrists visited Bulgaria, Hungary, GDR and the Czechoslovak Republic to coordinate the positions of socialist countries.
An authoritative Soviet delegation was picked to take part in the Congress, which, upon arrival, immediately established active contacts with delegations from socialist countries and other states (Mexico, Venezuela, Senegal, Nigeria, India, etc.). These contacts, and also the further conduct of the Conference, confirmed that although the Congress was officially organized by the WPA, all the actual preparations were in the hands of the American Psychiatric Association. …
The premises in which the meetings of the Congress took place were flooded with anti-Soviet trash, leaflets containing scurrilous attacks on Soviet psychiatry and its individual representatives. “Former Soviet psychiatrists,” brought to the Congress deliberately, skulked in the corridors. …
In view of this, the Soviet delegation made consecutive vigorous protests from the very first day.
But the main collision with anti-Soviets occurred at two meetings of the General Assembly of the WPA, where the organizers of the Congress moved for discussion of the “Declaration of Hawaii,” drafted by the Ethics Sub-Committee of the Executive Committee, concerning general ethical principles of contemporary psychiatry (to which the Soviet delegation acceded), and also the provocative Anglo-Australian resolution “condemning the abuse of psychiatry in the USSR” and the American proposal to form a “Committee for investigating instances of the abuse of psychiatry.”
The Soviet representative at the Assembly (E.A. Babayan) protested against the inclusion of these proposals in the agenda as clearly slanderous and contrary to the Charter of the WPA. He also spoke against the proposed procedure for the discussion of items on the agenda that do not warrant serious consideration. A categorical protest was made regarding the voting system, which is organized on the basis of the number of votes being proportionate to the monetary contributions made by national associations into the WPA budget (from 30 to 1-2 votes). However, these proposals were rejected due to unconcealed pressure by the President of the WPA, H. Rome,121 and references to the Charter of the WPA. … Subsequently the President of the WPA crudely violated the procedure for the conduct of the meeting and forced a vote without regard for the elementary rules of procedure. …
As was widely noted in the corridors of the Congress and the press, despite the formal “adoption” of the slanderous Anglo-Australian resolution, the moral victory at the Congress was won by Soviet psychiatry.
Obviously this “victory” did not suit the CC, so work began immediately after Honolulu:122
Soviet academics (A.V. Snezhnevsky, [Georgy] Morozov, [Eduard] Babayan, [Nikolay] Zharikov, [Marat] Vartanyan, [Vladimir] Rozhnov and others) attended learned conferences on psychiatry in the FRG, Switzerland, GDR, and the HPR [Hungarian People’s Republic], where they met with foreign colleagues and presented them with detailed information regarding the true nature of events at the recent Congress. A press conference on the results of the Congress was held (E.A. Babayan), which received objective coverage in a number of Swiss newspapers.
Consequently the campaign approved by the CC for 1978 and 1979 included an enormous number of propagandistic measures, the use of scientific contacts and publications, and tactical moves such as “Strive for the democratization of the WPA Charter and procedural rules of its highest body—the General Assembly.”
There were occasional curious moments. Thus, before and after Honolulu, an important measure was deemed to be (13 April 1978, No. 1763):123
To organize the receipt of information concerning the fate of mentally ill individuals, former citizens of the USSR who have left the country, for the purpose of using this information in acceptable form, allowing for the requirements of medical ethics, to expose the slanderous nature of accusations being levelled at Soviet psychiatry.
Responsible entities:
Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the USSR,
Committee for State Security under the Council of Ministers of the USSR,
Ministry of Health of the USSR.
The aim of this was to determine whether those of us who had been incarcerated in Soviet psychiatric hospitals ended up receiving psychiatric treatment abroad. And if there had been no such cases, they were to be invented. The KGB did not need to be asked twice, and shortly numerous Western left-wing publications announced that one or another of our friends had allegedly landed in Western psychiatric hospitals.
Among others, such information was published about Alexander Esenin-Volpin, who was living in the USA, but he did not waste any time and filed a suit in an American court against the publication in question for defamation. In dire panic Andropov, Kuznetsov, Leonid Zamyatin, and Lev Tolkunov alerted the CC (26 January 1977*, St 42/18, pp. 2–3):
Reactionary Zionist circles in the USA, acting with undeniably provocative, anti-Soviet aims, have incited an appeal to an American court by the renegade Esenin-Volpin. He has filed a suit against TASS, APN and the American newspaper “Daily World” (an entity of the Communist Party of the USA) for insulting him through publication (defamation). The formal pretext is republished material in the “Izvestia” and “Sovetskaya Rossiya” [Soviet Russia] newspapers taken from the Italian left-wing journal “Ragione” (May 1976), exposing the slanderous reactionary propaganda alleging that healthy people are incarcerated in psychiatric hospitals in the Soviet Union for political reasons. The article in question stated: “As soon as he arrived in Italy Esenin-Volpin, who was so hotly defended by the Western press, had to be admitted to a lunatic asylum; at present, he is being treated by American psychiatrists.”
TASS sent this to Soviet newspapers, APN carried it in one of its publications in the FRG, and the “Daily World” published its own piece on the basis of the “Ragione” article.
The American court sent summonses to the New York offices of TASS and APN demanding their appearance in court, and in the event of their nonappearance by 2 February of this year, TASS and APN will be found guilty automatically, and will each have to pay Esenin-Volpin two hundred thousand dollars in damages.
The claim itself is worded in an anti-Soviet, provocative spirit regarding the so-called repression of dissidents in the USSR, their incarceration in psychiatric hospitals and similar nonsense. All this is aimed at inciting yet another campaign against the Soviet Union in America through the mass media of the USA.
To suppress this process, the ambassador of the USSR in the USA had a discussion with the US deputy Secretary of State, drawing his attention to the inadmissibility and the unfounded actions of the American court. The State Secretary evaded making a direct response, claiming that “from a legal point of view this is not such a simple matter.”
In order to obviate the need for representatives of TASS and APN to appear in American court and so these entities could avoid being drawn into this essentially provocative process, the Soviet ambassador was permitted to hire an American attorney and strive for dismissal of the case and its annulment with the aid of the attorney and the citing of American legislation.
The ambassador was also instructed to make representations to the State Department, demanding urgent measures for the termination of the matter of Esenin-Volpin’s claim due to its unfounded nature and clear pursuit of political ends hostile to the Soviet Union, as ensues from the claim itself. The Soviet ambassador was further instructed to let the American side be aware that otherwise we shall take reciprocal measures against American press bodies and their Moscow correspondents, who frequently publish genuinely slanderous reports concerning the Soviet Union and its citizens.
Depending on the response of the American side and further developments, we deem it feasible to devise retaliatory measures in line with the Committee for State Security. We also deem it feasible to continue necessary measures to pursue our line through the State Department of the USA.
To avoid becoming involved with the matter in substance, which is the aim of Zionist circles that incited Esenin-Volpin’s suit, we believe that TASS and APN correspondents should not attend the American court either now or subsequently. It appears feasible to coordinate our actions with friends in the matter of the analogous suit against the “Daily World.”
We request approval of the indicated course of action.
It is a given that the CC approved the “course of action,” thus covering up the obvious lies in which the hapless chekists were trapped. In the interests of socialism, everything was “feasible.” The State Department, for its part, was afraid of confrontation. I do not know how it was able to interfere in judicial matters—under American law this is proscribed as criminal—but the case never came to court.
That is a great pity. Had the West shown enough stamina to refrain from violating its own laws and procedures at least in order not to bow to Soviet diktat, communism would have met its end much sooner and would have inflicted less damage on the people. In any case, the example of the praiseworthy conduct of most Western psychiatrists serves as the best proof of this. So the Soviet leaders were unable to establish their psychiatric gulag, their grandiose plan collapsed without being born, and right up to 1989 they were forced to make excuses before the whole world and implement endless “measures.” They were unable to wash off this shameful blot completely. Moreover, our glasnost proved to be so effective in this matter that by the end of the 1970s the KGB came to fear any dissident being placed in a psychiatric hospital even accidentally, irrespective of its wishes. For example, it was due to this that Alexander Zinoviev was not arrested—it was easier to throw him out into the West. Andropov reported to the CC in 1978 (28 June 1978, 1311-A, p. 3) that
materials in the possession of the Committee for State Security demonstrate that all the activities of ZINOVIEV are unlawful, and there are legal reasons to bring him to book on criminal charges. It is our opinion, however, that the application of this measure for terminating ZINOVIEV’S anti-Soviet activity is unfeasible for the reason that statements by persons closely acquainted with ZINOVIEV indicate that he had been treated for alcoholism in the past, is psychologically unbalanced and suffers from delusions of grandeur. These circumstances could (in the event of ZINOVIEV being brought to book on criminal charges) lead the court to find him mentally ill with direction for mandatory treatment. In view of the extensive Western campaign concerning psychiatry in the USSR, this course of action is deemed unfeasible.
It was only in 1989, when Gorbachev-Yakovlev glasnost was in full swing and it had become profitable to admit to past crimes, that the Politburo finally passed “On Improving Legislation Concerning the Conditions and Procedure for Rendering Psychiatric Aid” (15 November 1989, Pb 171/21), the resolution that introduced legal guarantees against the abuse of psychiatry. It is true that even then this measure was partly forced, enacted under pressure from the West.
There are now public groups of psychiatrists in Russia and Ukraine that are vigilant in watching for any signs of a resurgence of the use of their profession for political purposes. They investigate all suspicious cases, scrutinize every complaint, visit psychiatric hospitals, and where necessary petition the authorities for the review of suspicious cases. But such cases are now no more frequent than in any other country.
Striking changes have occurred in the field of psychiatry, much more than in many other spheres of Soviet life. Our times are now history. In the Leningrad Special Hospital where we met with Major-General Grigorenko, our “medical histories” are being shown to visitors, just like the cell in which Mikhail Bakunin was held in the Peter and Paul Fortress. And in 1992, preparing for my appearance at the Constitutional Court, I visited the Serbsky State Scientific Center for Social and Forensic Psychiatry with a Russian television crew. We were welcomed by a young, attractive woman, the then director of the institute, Tatyana Dmitrieva. “I have read your book and have long wanted to tell you that everything you wrote about our institute and about special hospitals is true,” she said.
I knew she was not being two-faced; she had already said as much to the press.
Thirty years have elapsed since the day when I first stepped over the threshold of this once-notorious institution. Only two people who knew me as a “patient” were still alive: the old nurses’ aide Shura and the “honorary director”, “academician” G.V. Morozov, our very own Dr. Mengele—who, they say, prefers to stay away from there nowadays.
Yet are these changes really so final? Nobody has repealed our diagnoses, nobody has thought of apologizing for all the slander that was hurled at us for decades in the press and whispered behind the scenes in personal contacts. None of these “academics” ever stood before courts to answer for crimes against humanity, and none were stripped of academic titles for violating the Hippocratic Oath. On the contrary, many of them, such as Vartanyan and Babayan, continue to stand at the head of Soviet psychiatry and even represent it abroad. And if the current authorities do not need the psychiatric method today, that does not mean it will not be required by those in power tomorrow. Would it be so difficult to revert to it? All it would take would be to demand the dismissal of this nice young woman from her doctor’s post and consign the few remaining psychiatrists from public monitoring groups into the camps. As for what ideology shall be served by psychiatry that corrects the minds of its citizens—be it national socialist or international socialist—who cares?
Undoubtedly, the misuse of psychiatry as an instrument in political repressions was the outstanding crime against humanity in the postwar epoch. It shall be remembered by our descendants for centuries to come, just as we remember the guillotine of the French Revolution, Stalin’s gulags, and Hitler’s gas chambers. Furthermore, the documents cited above show clearly that this was not happenstance, not a whim of the executor, but Politburo policy, without the will of which not a hair would have fallen from our heads. Strange as it may sound, even having read all these papers, I can find no satisfactory answer to the question of whether the Politburo understood what it was doing. Despite all its practicality, did it really live in the dream bubble of socialist realism, in which it was impossible to distinguish fact from fiction or information from disinformation? Especially as these were people for whom truth (determined by class) was by definition arbitrary due to their ideology. Like legality, truth also served the principle of “feasibility.”
In fact, are such concepts as good and evil, lies and truth, applicable to these people? I don’t know. Keep in mind that in communist newspeak such words, just like many others familiar to our ear, had a completely different meaning. For instance, we were accused of “slandering the Soviet state and social system” over and over again like an incantation; in all their documents, decisions, and missives, the term “slanderous” described our pronouncements, publications, and samizdat materials. Did they really believe that we were distorting reality, consciously or subconsciously? Of course they didn’t. But the very concepts of “reality” and “actuality” had totally different meanings in their language.
The ideology spurned everything that was common to mankind, including the meanings of words: there could be no such things as “reality” or “actuality” alone—things were either “bourgeois” or “socialist.” Thus a “slander of socialist reality” translated simply into the discrepancy between something said or written with the image of the “real socialism” created by the Politburo itself. And this image, by definition, could not contain any “organic defects” or imperfections; there could only be “isolated shortcomings” or “growing pains.”
It is easy to imagine to what level of absurdity all this could lead from a purely linguistic point of view. For instance, in a letter to Brezhnev concerning the exile of Solzhenitsyn, Andropov writes that the book The Gulag Archipelago “is definitely anti-Soviet, but the facts contained therein did actually take place” (7 February 1974*). Certain documents even speak of “slanderous facts,” which is inexplicable outside the Soviet system.
The matter is complicated further because in time these concepts became formalized, and the language became simplified. Thus the adjective socialist stopped accompanying every word—it was self-evident. What else could a word mean? For this reason, for example, one could not say, “There is no democracy in the USSR,” much less “There is no real democracy in the USSR”—because there is socialist democracy, which, unlike the bourgeois version, is the real thing. And if saying something like this caused you to be accused of “slanderous fabrications,” it fell under article 190 of the Criminal Code, but “anti-Soviet fabrications” came under article 70, while the term “ideologically harmful” meant that you were in luck and might only lose your job and be expelled from the party, the Komsomol, or the institute and be subjected merely to “prophylactic measures.” Just as in the 1930s, the term “first-category enemy of the people” meant death by firing squad, and “second-category” meant concentration camp or exile (4 February 1938*).
It is impossible to say what the members of the Politburo really thought. And what did they perceive to be real? There was no way out of the vicious circle of socialism. Not a single member of the Politburo could ask another: “You, Ivan Ivanovich, report that the wellbeing of the Soviet people is steadily growing. But what is the real situation?” To them, the supreme dispensers and curators of the imaginary world of socialist realism, “real” was what the party said it was. So if the wellbeing of the people had to grow steadily under socialism, it grew… in all reports.
Or, for instance, if the party decided in the 1930s that “class struggle is increasing with the building of socialism,” then the number of “enemies of the people” increased correspondingly. Did they believe or not that their yesterday’s colleague and friend has turned into an “enemy of the people” today? Were they surprised that these “enemies” are always calculated in round numbers—hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands?
This question is senseless. I am sure it was never discussed, and it probably did not even enter anyone’s head. Other things were decided and discussed, such as the scope and feasibility of purges. And just as in our time, the party did not care whether we were mentally ill or not. Even the fact of a sudden increase in mental illness in the country—by 42.8 percent in five years124—did not seem to surprise party members or raise any doubts in their minds.
Having read so many documents written (or signed) by them, I still cannot be certain whether they believed in their ideology, at least, or whether it was all a complete sham. It may be said with a certain degree of probability that Lenin and his immediate entourage were believers. I would allow that despite all his cynicism, Stalin believed in the historic justifiability of his actions, even feeling himself toward the end to be a demigod, a personal embodiment of historical truth. It is also undeniable that Khrushchev had a somewhat naive, genuine peasant’s belief in socialism. But tell me—in what did Brezhnev, Andropov, and Konstantin Chernenko believe? Yes, they were all people of small intellect, not inclined toward self-analysis, but they surely had to believe in something? They must have had aims in accordance with which they acted. Let us say that Lenin, in liquidating the bourgeois classes, acted in accordance with his aim of creating a classless paradise. Stalin considered anyone who, in his opinion, “objectively” impeded the cause of socialism was “subjectively” responsible as an accessory to the class enemy, and he considered anyone he imagined to be a personal foe as “objectively” hostile to the task of socialism. Even Khrushchev may have had a sincere belief that since under socialism no internal enemies could emerge, only mentally ill individuals could be hostile to the most perfect sociopolitical system in the history of mankind. They were all possessed of an admittedly inhuman, perverse logic, but with a certain congruity of personality and deeds, aims and actions. Yet what are we to think, say, in reading Andropov’s report125 in 1968 that Gabay and Marchenko “having lost the feeling of civil responsibility, disdain the interests of the state, and render direct support to our class enemies by their actions”?
Does he genuinely believe in the existence of “class enemies” after fifty-one years of Soviet rule? In the “class interests” of the Soviet state? In the duty of every citizen of the USSR to defend these interests? Or is this phrase just paying homage to the jargon party members employed?
Or, in sending the memorandum from the Krasnodar general to the Politburo regarding the epidemic of insanity in the region, did he not understand what he was doing? And did the Politburo really believe that anyone attempting to “commit high treason with the help of a boat with an outboard motor” must be mentally ill? That the idea of creating a “Council for control over the activity of the Politburo and local Party agencies” could only enter into the head of a madman? Only several years later that same Andropov informed the Politburo that there are hundreds of thousands of hostile persons in the country, and that the regime could not cope without repressions (29 December 1975*, 3213-A).
I was informed by very reliable sources back in 1977 (I have already described this episode in the book To Choose Freedom) that soon after my meeting with Carter, Brezhnev requested the file on my activities abroad and, after reading it, said to his aides:
“Comrades, what have you done? You told me that he was, you know”—here he made a circular motion around his temple—“but he’s not.”
So it would seem that Brezhnev really did believe that we were mad.
Because I read so many of Andropov’s memos and reports, or for some other reason, I became intrigued as to what Andropov really believed. If typical apparatchiks such as Suslov, having become accustomed to continual hypocrisy, were really incapable of distinguishing the difference between ideology and reality, and fossils such as Brezhnev and Chernenko were probably incapable of much thought even in their best years, Andropov did not create the impression of a fanatic or an idiot. Unlike his party colleagues, he did not come across as a man capable of believing his own disinformation. On the contrary, he even understood that ideologues (or even ideology) breed enemies of the system whom he, Andropov, would have to combat later. It is noteworthy that in attempting to reduce such manifestations to a minimum, he even interfered in matters concerning art and the party policy in the cultural sphere. He wrote the following to the CC in 1976 (8 October 1976*, 2280-A):
Artist I.O. GLAZUNOV has been working in Moscow since 1957, and has acquired an ambiguous reputation among different creative circles. On one hand, GLAZUNOV has built up a group of supporters who see him as a gifted artist, while on the other hand he is considered totally untalented by others, a person reviving petit bourgeois tastes in depictive art. However, for many years, GLAZUNOV has been invited regularly to visit the West by prominent social and state personalities, who commission him to paint their portraits. GLAZUNOV’S reputation as a portrait painter is very considerable. He has painted the President of Finland, [Urho] KEKKONEN, the kings of Sweden and Laos, Indira GANDHI, [Salvador] ALLENDE, CORVALAN and many others. Exhibitions of his work have taken place in a number of countries and were reviewed favorably in the foreign press. At the request of Soviet organizations he has visited Vietnam and Chile. The cycle of paintings completed there was displayed at special exhibitions.
This situation, in which GLAZUNOV finds enthusiastic support abroad but is viewed askance by Soviet artists, creates certain problems in his formation as an artist, and even harder problems in his outlook on life.
GLAZUNOV is a person with no clear convictions, and there are definite shortcomings in his art. He frequently portrays himself as a Russophile and often allows himself to express open anti-Semitism. His muddled political views do not only induce wariness on occasion, but also repel. His audacious nature and flashes of conceit do not promote the development of normal relations in creative circles. Nonetheless, it would be unfeasible to reject GLAZUNOV for just those reasons.
The demonstrative failure of the Union of Artists to acknowledge him merely reinforces all that is negative in GLAZUNOV, and could lead to undesirable consequences if it is borne in mind that Western representatives not only advertise him, but also attempt to influence him, among other things persuading him to emigrate from the Soviet Union.
In view of the above, it appears necessary to take a close look at the situation around this artist. It might be feasible to attract him to some socially useful endeavor, such as creating a museum of Russian furniture in Moscow, something that he and his supporters are anxious to do.
Thus yet another museum appeared in Moscow, and Glazunov’s views became even more muddled, but there were no “consequences” considered “undesirable” by Andropov. Still, he was not always able to avert them—the system continued to breed enemies before he could interfere, and it was not always possible to overcome the stubbornness of the “ideologues” (10 October 1974*, Pb 55/12):
The Committee for State Security has received information that sculptor E.I. NEIZVESTNY, a member of the Union of Artists of the USSR, intends to go abroad for permanent residence in the near future. This decision stems allegedly from the circumstance that he is experiencing a certain degree of dissatisfaction with the lack of interest in his work by the relevant cultural organizations and departments, due to which he receives no commissions and is forced to accept occasional orders.
Available data suggest that NEIZVESTNY expects to receive an invitation from some influential individual in the West. It is suggested that this person may be American senator Edward KENNEDY, whose personal representative visited NEIZVESTNY during the senator’s last visit to the USSR.
[…]
In the event of a refusal to grant NEIZVESTNY an exit visa, he intends to attract the attention of the international community. In this he relies on the support of individual members of the Italian and French communist parties and the Vatican.
In view of the above, it would be feasible to examine the possibility of offering NEIZVESTNY a state commission to create some monumental work on a contemporary subject which would match his creative plans.
But Neizvestny’s thinking was not muddled, and persecution and proscriptions by party authorities continued. Although he did receive a few commissions following Andropov’s letter, he preferred to leave two years later. As he says himself, not without Andropov’s help.
And what about the earlier cited incident of the memorandum concerning Zinoviev, in which Andropov cautioned against imprisoning Zinoviev in case he might be found to be genuinely mentally ill and sent to a psychiatric institution? One might think that something like this could happen at the will of the court without Andropov’s knowledge! As we have seen, even direction for an expert examination required a decision of the CC. But Andropov had to be rid of an extra case, so he frightened the Politburo with a possible scandal on an already sore topic.
These and many other episodes subsequently gave Andropov the reputation of a “liberal” in the West upon his accession to power in 1983, which mutated into the legend of a “covert liberal,” also probably not without his help. In fact, he was no more a liberal than Lavrentiy Beria, who laid the foundations of the de-Stalinization process: just like Beria, he aspired to come to power, and was not at all keen on being branded the smotherer of the intelligentsia. Furthermore, again like Beria, he probably understood the need for some correction of the policies of his predecessors, who had led the regime into a dead end. Observing the “process of chain reaction” in 1968, when direct repressions only aided the growth of our movement, he made more recommendations for the employment of preventive, prophylactic measures, which by that time were more feasible under the foreign policies of the regime. By the 1970s, having become one of the main architects of Soviet foreign policy and thus the figure responsible for it, he became even more inclined to depend on “operative-chekist measures.”
It was not just that these measures minimized damage to socialism both domestically and externally and helped to create a more civilized image of the regime. This was undoubtedly so. But after one has read his documents and seen his tricky games in the Politburo, the thought comes to mind that he simply liked these methods, he was psychologically inclined to them. It is not by chance that under him and his direct leadership there was a grandiose flowering of international terrorism, the system of Soviet disinformation, and “liberation movements” in the third world. Détente, that invention so ruinous to the West, flourished under him, allowing the Soviet regime to conduct a unilateral ideological war, and with Western funds at that. In the critical moment for détente in 1980, the wide-sweeping “peace movement” unfolded under his leadership. Finally, under him and his student and successor Gorbachev, the entire domestic and foreign policy of the regime became one gigantic operative-chekist measure under the name of perestroika.
It seems that he was a manipulator by nature who, if he actually believed in something, believed only that history is a continuous chain of conspiracies. Suffice to say that his 1978 report (which I was unable to copy, and barely managed to glance through), entitled “On Our Relations with the Vatican,” gives serious consideration to the idea that election of Polish cardinal Karol Wojtyla to the papal throne is part of an international conspiracy aimed at splitting Poland from the Soviet bloc. In fact, the imperialists propel Poles into the front ranks: in Washington, Zbigniew Brzezinski; in the Vatican, Wojtyla. This cannot happen by chance, even though there is no known mechanism that would enable Brzezinski to have any influence whatsoever on the decision of the [Papal] Conclave. In all, as my KGB investigator used to say, “if there are more than three coincidences, then these are not coincidences.” His boss does not seem to have departed far from this chekist wisdom. I do not doubt, even though I found no documents on this subject, that Andropov was behind the attempt to assassinate Pope John Paul II several years later: after all, he had been proven “right”: Poland had begun to break away.
Actually, this belief in conspiracies is natural in all secret services to some extent, and Andropov’s roots were rather in communist ideology. Only in abstract thinking does Marxism interpret history as an objective and inevitable struggle between classes. Just read the classics of this teaching, Marx, Engels, and Lenin analyzing the more concrete political situation in their contemporary world, and you will see that their entire “analysis” comes down to “unmasking” the latest bourgeois “conspiracy” against the proletariat. Even the political jargon they introduced speaks of belief in conspiracy: you will never see even one simple characterization of somebody, only words like stooges, accomplices, lackeys, henchmen, hirelings, and provocateurs. In extreme cases people were characterized as renegades and traitors. That’s class warfare for you.
Communist ideology is definitely deeply paranoid, and even those who were merely pretending, not believing it for a moment (and I think that such were the party bosses of the 1960s and 1970s), inevitably acquired certain stereotyped forms of thought. It makes no difference that most of them, drowning in the routine of everyday concerns, gave no thought to the philosophical tenets of Marxism-Leninism—that was what the ideology was for, so there was no need to remember those tenets. It was sufficient for the practitioners, relying on developed reflexes, to simply follow the logic of struggle in accordance with the famous Lenin maxim: “who whom.”
Moreover, as is habitual for dim-witted people who know little about life in the West, they ascribed their own methods, intentions and morality to their opponents, responding to imaginary “schemes” with real ones, and with slander against “slander.” Like a boxer sparring with his own shadow, they could never win. Did they understand the absurdity of the situation? Yes and no. Like all Soviet people, they possessed the amazing ability to say one thing, mean another, and do a third. Seemingly immune to such splitting of the persona, they could believe and not believe in their ideology simultaneously, both love and hate the system that on one hand subjugated them and on the other endowed them with almost superhuman power.
Andropov was probably no exception. It was said that he did not like ideology, and especially “ideologues.” This is not surprising: they impeded his work, limited his actions, or, on the contrary, created extra problems. Who likes overseers? However, this does not mean that he rejected the ideology consciously or comprehended its absurdity. More likely, like the majority of his colleagues, when he encountered the discrepancy between ideology and real life he was prone to ascribe this discrepancy to enemy schemes, and to solve them with schemes of “friends.” It was easier this way, especially as “enemies” and “friends” can always be found, if you look hard enough. … What other way out could there be for someone for whom belief in the infallibility of the ideology was mandatory? Either the idea is perfect, but its realization is hampered by enemies, or it is imperfect, in which case you become an enemy yourself.
Ironclad logic, just like the reasoning that turned the sails of the chekist “mill” near Khabarovsk (4 October 1956*, St 1061).
The emergence of our movement posed not just a practical problem for the Politburo, but a theoretical brainteaser. It was all very well for Lenin—he had to deal with a real “class enemy.” Even Stalin managed somehow to make ends meet: at least his enemies had been born before the revolution and were formed “under the conditions of bourgeois society,” which meant they were able to retain the “remnants of capitalism” in their minds. But how could the appearance of an “enemy” be explained in the classless socialist paradise? Most of us were born and raised under conditions created according to their recipes. Figuratively (and occasionally literally), we were their children.
It is not surprising that the regime was glad to seize Khrushchev’s psychiatric thesis, although even Suslov would have to sweat copiously to devise an ideological basis for the implacable rise of insanity under socialism—neither Marx nor Lenin had foreseen such a thing. But even this loophole closed due to the powerful campaign against punitive psychology. The only thing left to do was to blame everything on imperialist schemes. The regime could hardly admit that people were personally capable of understanding the absurdity of the Soviet system. Hence the monotonous repetition of the formula regarding the schemes of enemy “special services” and “ideological centers” that allegedly controlled us in every document relating to our activities. From this source comes the more detailed “class” definition, made by the Politburo in missives to “fraternal parties” from 1975 through 1977, in which it ensues that since the “exploitative class” had been liquidated in the USSR,126 then
… the emergence of an insignificant handful of counterrevolutionaries, who have broken away from the very foundations of our system and entered the path of struggle against it and, as a rule, are connected with imperialist circles, is by no means a natural product of the internal development of the Soviet Union.
[…]
… Remnants of capitalism are systematically encouraged in the minds of some people from abroad, by imperialist propaganda centers. As for the intelligence and other subversive agencies of bourgeois countries, and allied émigré organizations, they are attempting to appeal to the outmoded ideas of certain individuals in interests hostile to socialism. And, as should be clear to communists, this is inevitable while there are two juxtaposed systems on the world arena—the socialist and the capitalist; the main substance of global development is still class struggle between them.
Such was the policy within the framework in which the Politburo had to act. It was easy for the ideologues in the Politburo to think up “class” explanations, useable until history’s end—they did not have to implement the policies that emanated from these explanations. It was not for them to answer if the policy did not yield results. Andropov was required to locate these mythical “centers” and defuse their schemes while knowing full well that no such “centers” existed. A brain-busting assignment, especially in periods of détente, and with Western governments bending over backward to demonstrate their friendship to the Soviet people. So what could he do but invent at least one “subversive center”?
This is how the notorious NTS entered our lives—the People‘s Alliance of Russian Solidarists—the KGB tried every trick to “stick” a connection with it to literally every one of us. Even the most innocuous book published by Posev, the NTS publishing house, could serve as adequate reason for such an accusation. At the very least, this fact would be spread all over the press as though it were the sole reason for your incarceration. How could one avoid of this if up to the 1970s there were practically no Russian publishers in the West? A manuscript passed abroad by even the occasional tourist would invariably end up with the NTS.
Consequently, KGB reports and the missives of the CC would cite the NTS as “one of” the subversive centers (naming no others due to their nonexistence), attributing the most sophisticated schemes to it, and Soviet propaganda exaggerated its activity to absolutely mythical proportions. As we recall even the Politburo, in deciding Solzhenitsyn’s fate, did not omit mention of his “contacts with the NTS” as something particularly pernicious. Who can say whether they believed it or not? In the minds of the Soviet people—at the top or the bottom—the NTS was perceived as some gigantic super-octopus, omnipresent and omnipotent. A devil incarnate.
In reality the NTS was a negligible émigré organization with a dubious past, suspicious present, and indefinite future. Founded in Yugoslavia in 1930 by profascist émigré youth (at first it was called the National Labor Alliance of the New Generation and was strongly influenced by Mussolini’s ideas), it cooperated with the Germans in the war years (through the Abwehr, the German intelligence service during WWII), including by publishing newspapers in German-occupied territories of Russia.
After the war, the NTS became, among other things, the property of the Americans and the English, and in the thick of the Cold War up to Stalin’s death, it was used for sending reconnaissance groups into the USSR to recruit agents and collect information. By that time the failure of some of their groups raised suspicions that the NTS had been infiltrated by the KGB at the highest level. As a result there was a schism in 1955, practically destroying the organization. By our time, the remaining two to three hundred members eked out a living in poverty, artificially supported by both the KGB and the CIA as a double-agent organization.
It stands to reason that the majority of NTS members had no idea of the role played by their organization—this was probably known only to the leadership, something like their Central Committee. The organization was strictly secretive, built along principles somewhat similar to the Bolshevik party. As I was able to see for myself here, in emigration, most of the ordinary members were honest people, often deeply religious, devoted to their ideas and leadership to the point of fanaticism. In the main, they were representatives of the “second wave” of Russian émigrés, that is, those who had managed to survive the war, captivity, camps for displaced persons, and the forced repatriation of his runaway slaves to Stalin by the Allies after the war. For them, service to Russia and its future liberation was almost a religious mission, and it was impossible to explain to them what was really going on.
At first, in the 1960s, we did not know all of this either. Yet the KGB knew very well what it was doing. They were perfectly aware that we could have no relation to the NTS if only because in essence we were their direct opposites. If the NTS was a strictly clandestine organization, centralized and moreover setting itself the aim of armed war with the Soviet regime and calling for revolution, our position was markedly open, nonviolent, and even legalistic; furthermore, we had decided deliberately to refrain from creating an organization or even an organizational structure as a matter of principle. From the point of view of the KGB, tying us in with the NTS was the best possible way of compromising us.
To give us our due, it did not take us long to determine just what the NTS was, so we did not take the bait. Partly this was because of the differences in principle between our group and theirs, but more to the point, it was because the KGB was too assiduous in trying to attribute this connection to us, attempting to virtually force us into the arms of the NTS. Moreover, the NTS acted too clumsily, in an obvious attempt to complete the assignment. I recall my first glimpse of the truth when in 1965 some friend or other gave me an envelope from a visiting NTS courier. This occurrence was enough to put me on my guard, as I had never sought contact with them. But the contents of that envelope were an even greater shock: a closely typed sheet of instructions on how to create “groups of five” (underground groups consisting of five people, a favored tactic of the NTS), and a letter addressed to me with a request to… blow up Lenin’s Mausoleum! There was also a sheet of “invisible” carbon paper for secret encrypted messages and instructions on how to maintain connection with the NTS. In a word, the full “gentleman’s kit.” Had the KGB chosen that moment to burst into my place, it would have made them a great present.
At that time all I did was laugh at the hapless conspirators and burn the gentleman’s kit straightaway, but the thought of this episode bothered me for a long time. Whichever way I looked at it, it didn’t bode well. First, I had just been released from the psychiatric hospital, which was probably known to my unexpected “instructor.” He must have thought that I was really mentally ill, and that my insanity might prompt me to carry out his instructions. Second, who would want to blow up the mausoleum, and to what purpose? It was probably needed for someone to claim this as “their operation,” and the attempt, if not the explosion as such, would be very useful to the KGB. Under this pretext not just I, but also all my friends would be arrested. What if I had really been insane?
Soon my suspicions became widespread, and in 1968, when the KGB made assiduous efforts to stick Alexander Ginzburg and Yuri Galanskov with a charge of connections to the NTS at their trial, it became overzealous. That was just the unfortunate case on which Semichastny blundered in trying, as we recall, to put a quiet psychiatric brake on the matter, but the Politburo balked at the idea. This was the first case in which Andropov had to prove his abilities, foreseeing all the desires of the CC. But the accursed case refused to come together: either his opponents in the CC were intriguing against him, or he was simply mistaken in his guesses. This is what he reported at the end of the investigation (22 November 1967, 2840-A):
The preliminary investigation has been completed and the matter submitted to the Moscow City Court. It will be examined at a court hearing in mid-December. … The investigation established that GINZBURG, GALANSKOV and [Alexei] DOBROVOLSKY maintained contacts with the foreign organization “National Alliance of Russian Solidarists” (NTS) through foreign visitors to the USSR, and sent anti-Soviet, slanderous materials abroad, which were published in the anti-Soviet press and were actively used by the NTS in propaganda hostile to the Soviet Union. Among other things, GALANSKOV sent the NTS the anti-Soviet miscellany “Phoenix”; GINZBURG prepared the so-called “White Book” containing slanderous materials regarding the trial of SINYAVSKY and DANIEL, which GALANSKOV sent abroad and which was published in the NTS journal “Grani.” … In view of the political nature of the trial, and also that an anti-Soviet campaign is being waged in the West concerning GINZBURG and his confederates in the foreign press, the advice is to hold the hearing behind closed doors. [We should] issue information on the trial that is favorable to us for the foreign press through the channels of the KGB and APN. The outcome of the trial should be published in “Vechernaya Moskva” [Evening Moscow] as a topicality report (text attached).
But the CC was still unsatisfied, and inscribed a severe resolution in the margins of the report: “Requires an exchange of opinions in the Politburo. ”Objections from ideologues are a very serious matter (25 November 1967*, SF No. 4597):
The bill of indictment on the matter of Ginzburg, Galanskov and Dobrovolsky in its present form, as formulated both in the clauses of the indictment and the argumentation of the charges, puts the investigation and the public prosecutor into an extremely unfavorable situation.
Conduct of the trial on the basis of the present version of the bill of indictment may cause a new anti-Soviet campaign abroad, similar to that after the trial of Sinyavsky and Daniel.
The problem is that the present version stresses charges relating to the collection and, in part, authorship of tendentious (in substance anti-Soviet) materials for delivery abroad, pushing into the background better proven and, for both the Soviet and foreign community, more convincing accusations. There is a sufficient amount of convincing facts in the court case to be used by the press for propagandistic exposure of the underhanded methods employed by American intelligence services (through one of their branches—the “National Alliance of Russian Solidarists” (NTS), duplicitously referred to as “an independent political organization”) to hoodwink the Soviet and foreign communities.
As the bill of indictment has already been handed to the accused and their attorneys and cannot be amended, it would be feasible for the state prosecutor, in the course of the court hearing and his presentation, to construct the arguments in the indictment and the hearing on the basis of the following scheme, which may be confirmed by facts at the disposal of the investigating authorities.
- It would be feasible to explain why Ginzburg, Galanskov, Dobrovolsky and [Vera] Lashkova became party to anti-Soviet activity and where they became infected with anti-Soviet sentiments. …
- It would be feasible to focus attention on their connections with the NTS in evidence proving their guilt. … At the same time, while stressing specifically these moments, it would be feasible to show that the accused may not have been fully aware of the true target of their activity, presented to them by NTS emissaries under the guise of the “struggle for freedom, democracy, struggle against injustice” and so forth. But in fact the accused performed the assignments of that branch of American intelligence and were being groomed to be used, in the final analysis, as agents of American intelligence under the umbrella of the NTS. …
- It would be feasible to reduce to a minimum any mention of dissemination of the so-called “White Book,” the underground journals “Phoenix” and “Syntaxis” as well as various appeals and documents relating to the “struggle” for the release of Sinyavsky and Daniel from the bill of indictment and, if possible, omit any mention of them at all. This way, the prosecution will be able to concentrate on the one undeniable fact: the accused acted on the assignment of the NTS—a branch of American intelligence, under the cover of the flag of an anti-Soviet organization. …
For the purposes of propagandistic coverage of the trial both in the Soviet Union and abroad, it would be feasible to perform the following work prior to the trial, which would be best limited to one day, omitting hearing the evidence of secondary witnesses:
- Prepare an orientation circular to Soviet ambassadors, containing the abovementioned interpretation of the trial. This circular should be sent in good time (1-2 days before the opening of the trial) to Soviet ambassadors in a number of countries, to inform the leadership of fraternal parties.
- Acting together with the appropriate administration of the KGB, departments of the CC CPSU are to prepare relevant versions of journal accounts regarding the progress of the trial for publication in the newspapers Komsomolskaya pravda [Komsomol Truth], Moskovskaya pravda [Moscow Truth] and the journal Nedelya [the Week]. Analogous versions are to be prepared for distribution abroad through the “Novosti” press agency and the radio.
Andropov tried to defend himself, claiming that this is exactly what he had in mind, and he even attempted to cite laws, among others those regarding the impossibility of conducting the trial in just one day, as the ideologues demanded (3 December 1967, 2949-A). But all in all, he did not dare argue; at that time he had been the chairman of the KGB for just six months, and his situation was probably insufficiently secure. In the main, the trial was conducted along the lines suggested by the CC. Moreover Andropov, following the instruction to stress the role of the NTS, outdid himself. The trial was scheduled for 11 December, but was suddenly deferred with no indication of dates or reasons, to begin only on 8 January 1968. During this time, an extremely important event occurred: as if on cue, an NTS courier arrived in Moscow bearing materials “in defense of Ginzburg and Galanskov” and was arrested and presented at the trial as either the main witness or as material evidence of the criminal connection. This move was so transparent that nobody was left with any doubt as to the connection of the KGB with the NTS. Either the KGB summoned this “courier”, or it at least knew about his arrival and deferred the trial until that time.
However, this was not the end of the NTS epic. The KGB continued to stick us with this connection in every case, in order to have a pretext for displaying its heroic struggle with “subversive enemy centers.” Furthermore, NTS cells were occasionally created by the KGB with a full complement of its agents as members—for purposes of “prophylaxis” aimed at “revealing ideologically immature” citizens, and at the same time, for playing “games” with the “foreign center.” At times the KGB even succeeded in trapping some youth group using its self-created reputation of the NTS as the regime’s greatest foe. But more frequently “evidence” was squeezed out of those who broke under investigation. The reward for such an “exposure” was almost immediate release, an appearance on television, and even permission to emigrate. This is what happened with Pyotr Ionovich Yakir and Viktor Krasin in 1973 (27 August 1974, 2436-A)—a tragic page in our history that would take too much space to recount.127
Meanwhile the NTS leadership, not at all abashed by its provocative role in these tragedies, continued the game. Moreover, they probably expected someone’s gratitude, they even flaunted that role, stating in verbal and written form that “dissidents” were an “NTS creation.” After Galanskov’s tragic death in a camp in 1972, they declared him to have been a secret member of their CC—a rare display of cynicism even by them. I have no doubt that if it were not for my unexpected exchange and release, the same lot would have awaited me. I was later told by Alexander Esenin-Volpin that after he left the Soviet Union in 1972, NTS representatives tried hard to persuade him to join their organization: “Your friend Bukovsky is one of our members,” they told him, probably in the hope that Alik and I would never meet again. At that time I was on hunger strike in Vladimir Prison, and reports on my state of health were very grim.
They considered that lying, claiming nonexistent achievements and hundreds and thousands of members in Russia, was fully justified in the interests of the “highest aims.” Such is the nature of an underground psychology—devilry, as we called it then, from which were saved by refusing to go underground as a matter of principle. In the same way we refuted all the other attributes common to bad crime fiction in the style of John le Carré.
None of this is secret now: in 1990 a former colonel of the KGB, Yaroslav Karpovich, declared in the press128 that he had been a member of the “leadership circle” of the NTS, their “man in Moscow.” According to him, this “operation” was monitored by Andropov, under the supervision of Brezhnev himself.129
So tell me now: what did they believe in?
This was not the end of the “operative-chekist measure.” Unlike the Khabarovsk “mill,” the Andropov effort did not leave any leftovers. If an effort to stick us with connections to the NTS worked, fine; if not, that was fine too. The chekist imagination is always two jumps ahead of reality and invariably compensated for colleagues’ errors, creating the requisite reputation with its own resources. They called this “compromising measures” quite openly.
Stretching a point, let us say that they managed to stick Ginzburg with the notorious connection, even though it was not he but someone else who delivered his manuscript to Posev, the publishing house of the NTS, where it was duly published. This “fact” must now be worked on and served up to the best possible advantage. That is not done by just some nameless apparatchik; the Politburo itself sends an “orientation” to all Soviet ambassadors in the world (22 December 1967*, Pb 63/122):
Within the next few days there will be an open hearing in the Moscow City Court on the case of Ginzburg, Galanskov, Dobrovolsky and Lashkova.
There is the usual anti-Soviet uproar abroad concerning the forthcoming trial, the accused are billed as “talented young writers,” “freedom fighters,” etc.
In fact, Ginzburg, Galanskov, Dobrovolsky and Lashkova have no relation to writers or to literary endeavor at all: the first two are office workers, Dobrovolsky is a bookbinder and Lashkova is a typist. They do not have any literary works to their credit.
At various times, they entered into contact with agents of the NTS—a notorious branch of the CIA—whose aim was to recruit them for the performance of espionage assignments. For a start, foreign intelligence agents instructed them to recruit members into the NTS, supplying them with instruction materials on forms and methods of combating the socialist system, equipment for duplicating leaflets of an anti-Soviet nature and maintaining secret correspondence abroad. … Soviet security agencies deemed it necessary to terminate the ties Ginzburg, Galanskov, Dobrovolsky and Lashkova had with hostile intelligence organizations, and to prevent them from being drawn into committing serious crimes linked to espionage.
Only in the event of a query to the leadership by friends, clarify the above to them.
Notice: This message is sent to ambassadors of the USSR in European socialist countries (apart from Albania), also Austria, Australia, Argentina, Belgium, Brazil, Great Britain, Denmark, Italy, Canada, Norway, Syria, USA, Uruguay, FRG, Finland, France, Chile, Ceylon and Sweden.
This can be regarded as quite modest—they were probably afraid to make too much noise and hoped that everything would pass off quietly. Usually the scope would be much wider, and measures would be implemented much more aggressively. But now they would only be shared through ambassadors of the listed countries and “friends” upon their special request, should enquiries arise. Everything else was grist to the mill—diplomacy, the press, and the resources of the KGB.
However, it is typical how easily the chekist imagination made the leap from the NTS publishing house to “crimes linked with espionage.” There could be a plethora of such leaps, until the desired artistic conclusion of the required “compromising” was complete, but no matter how hard the KGB tried, it was unable to stick me with connections to the NTS.
Such an accusation was never made to me officially, and it did not even figure in “compromising measures” aimed at me up to 1976. It is curious that it appeared for the first time in a Politburo letter to Enrico Berlinguer (29 August 1976, Pb 24/25), head of the Italian Communist Party, four months prior to my exchange:
Upon discharge from psychiatric hospital, Bukovsky has continued his anti-Soviet activity. In November 1965 he founded a “five-man storm group” with the aim of preparing an armed attack against Soviet authorities. At the same time Bukovsky entered into contact with the notorious anti-Soviet organization NTS.
One cannot but wonder how the Politburo came to know about the instructions contained in the gentleman’s kit I burned so carefully back in 1965. And why now, almost eleven years later, should they recall that failure? They were probably already aware of my forthcoming exchange, and were taking care to create a suitable image of me. It’s always a pity to part with certain goods; were their 1965 efforts to be wasted?
So I was followed by a really powerful fusillade of propaganda: I was a criminal (what else? We “do not have any political prisoners”), and “a dropout student” (they should know, they were the ones who drove me out), and, of course, there was that “five-man storm group” (at the time I was at a loss as to where they got these groups from). And although their fire had no effect in the West—the Western press merely laughed about these five-man groups—the image of a half-mad terrorist was to follow me for many years. The leaders were never confused by such failures, for they believed firmly that a lie repeated hundreds of times becomes a truth in the end, in line with the principle proclaimed by Pierre Beaumarchais: “Defame, defame…. In the end, something will remain.”
At times I thought that this principle worked for them too, and that they had begun to believe the lies they repeated to each other and had originated themselves. In any event, I can find no explanation for this amazing Politburo document dated 1979, entitled “On a response to the proposals made by the Minister of Justice of the USA” (1 November 1979*, Pb 172/113):
In a discussion with the ambassador of the USSR, US Attorney General [Benjamin] Civiletti touched upon the holding of the Olympic Games in the USA and the USSR and spoke of the possible activation of terrorist activity, the smuggling of drugs and other criminal actions in that period. In his opinion, it would be feasible to establish a tacit working contact between the corresponding security services of the Soviet Union and the USA for the “purpose of exchanging ideas regarding possible concrete concerns on these matters,” and then create “special working groups for the exchange of information and implementation of various means by the parties.” Civiletti said that he would appreciate a preliminary response to his proposal.
It is clear that we and the Americans have different approaches to the question of terrorism. For instance, this is demonstrated with regard to national liberation movements and their organizations.
Furthermore, there has been a halo of “martyrdom” created in the USA for convicted Soviet criminal terrorists such as Kuznetsov, who intended to hijack an aircraft with a group of accomplices and kill the crew.130 Kuznetsov and the renegade Bukovsky, another advocate of terrorism, were received in the White House by the President of the USA. …
On the basis of the above, the Committee for State Security of the USSR considers it inadvisable to establish contacts along the line of the administrative agencies of the USSR with American services as proposed by the Minister of Justice of the USA. At the same time there could be agreement that on the basis of mutuality, the parties could share information through the usual diplomatic channels regarding presumptive terrorist or other criminal acts connected with the Olympic Games.
Thus the first “terrorists” about whom the US administration received a warning from their Soviet colleagues were Kuznetsov and I. It remains unknown what was said about us in confidence, if this went through “the usual diplomatic channels.” I was able to gain some idea about this quite unexpectedly and not long ago, in 1985, when the Soviet journal Novoye vremya [the New Times], which is published in the West by APN in ten languages and distributed practically worldwide, carried an article under the mysterious headline “Who Killed Jessica Savitch?” (No. 37, September 1985). Jessica Savitch was an American TV journalist who was known for her pro-Soviet views and who had died recently in a car accident; imagine my amazement when I glanced through this article out of curiosity and discovered that it was… I who had killed her! Yes, yes, in the literal, not metaphorical sense—killed her. Bumped her off, and that’s it. Naturally, not with my own hands, admitted the journal, but in cahoots with the notorious terrorist Meir Kahane and the forces of his organization, the Jewish Defense League.
The death of Jessica Savitch shows that the criminal world of the USA has acquired a new gang, which is headed by Bukovsky. From childhood, he had dreamed of becoming a terrorist chieftain, yearned for terror and was particularly appreciative of murderous inclinations in others. He was tried and sentenced to imprisonment for organizing a terrorist group, whose members were preparing to “destroy physically, hang from lamp posts, shoot and strangle” (these are Bukovsky’s own words, quoted from the court record). Having become a CIA agent in the West, Bukovsky was free to give full rein to his criminal tendencies. One former acquaintance of Bukovsky in Paris describes him as being “vainglorious, cruel to the point of sadism. Pathologically greedy for money. A criminal who has no greater pleasure than taking someone’s life.”
Partnership with the terrorist rabbi Kahane and his League and protection by the Jewish community of the USA make Bukovsky invincible before the police.
I must admit that I was taken completely aback—this was really something new. I was accustomed to being reviled as an “agent of imperialism,” “slanderer,” “renegade,” and even “agent of the CIA”—I was used to these accusations and paid no attention. But here not abstractly, but quite specifically, it was claimed that I had killed a certain person! What could this mean? Could the KGB be planning to involve me in a criminal situation, and even kill to do so? It always followed the line: action is accompanied by propaganda, and propaganda by action.
Quite unexpectedly, I became infuriated and asked a friend, a prominent American attorney, to file a suit with the New York court against the authors, publishers, disseminators, and in general all accessories. At least, I thought, once they have to give evidence under oath, these swine may let something slip. And whatever their intentions, continuing the “operation” when facing a court suit might give them pause. Not in a hundred years! There was no chance of bringing the authors and publishers to court; they were all in Moscow. All that remained was the distributor—that very Kamkin bookshop set up and maintained with Soviet money for the distribution of communist propaganda. But taking Kamkin to court also proved impossible because under American law, he was responsible for the distributed slander only if we could prove that he had known the contents of his goods: “If a bookseller offers sale of a newspaper or journal that constantly contains articles of a scandalous nature, distribution of such a publication may pose the risk that the articles therein do contain slanderous attacks of some kind.”
The matter ended with that, having dragged on for more than two years without coming to court.
“It’s not worth the worry”, I was told. Soviet propaganda is so glaringly ludicrous that nobody believes it.
“On the contrary, it is worth worrying about, and the West should know more about Soviet propaganda”, said others; it exposes the regime better than any of us could.
Alas, that would be so in a normal, morally healthy world, in which every invention of the agitprop or Chief Administration “A” of the KGB would really make people roar with laughter, be mocked in the press, and rouse the indignation of politicians. We had to live in the real world, in which most people wanted to believe in the Soviet regime—because of ideological sympathies, fear of a nuclear disaster, faith in “stability,” in a “pragmatic approach,” in Divine Providence, or who knows what else.
Be that as it may, Soviet propaganda and disinformation were much more effective in the West than in the USSR. To be convinced of this, it is enough to recall, for instance, the multimillion-person “peace movement” that emerged as if by magic at the beginning of the 1980s, or the jubilation in the press caused by the coming of “covert liberal” Andropov to power in 1983 (to say nothing about the joyous bacchanalia unleashed by Gorbachev and his perestroika). Generally speaking, people, by their very nature, tend toward a selective choice of the information they expect or really want to receive; this tendency is further reinforced by emotions, desires, and beliefs. The best example of this with regard to Gorbachev is the Chernobyl disaster, which did not affect the rapture surrounding Gorbachev, who tried to conceal it at the cost of the health of millions of people; it did not shake the bright belief in socialism, but was seen only as an example of the danger of nuclear power plants wherever they might be, and whoever built them.
As for the dissidents, just about anyone was ready to believe whatever dirt was flung at us; despite all the outward admiration of our “courage,” the Western elite hated us fiercely. Our very existence threatened the illusions of some and sounded a reproach to the deeply-buried consciences of others. Even their admiration was sickening, as if stressing that our activity and our position presumed the possession of some superhuman qualities and was thus alien to “normal” people.
You might think that the emergence of our movement in the USSR would be considered the best, the most optimistic news in the post-Khrushchev period, heralding the prospect of the possible peaceful riddance of the Soviet threat. No, it was not. We were declared—first with admiration and then with anger—to be an “exception” to the general rule with no significance for Western policies, nothing but an unwanted headache. No matter how stupid, absurd, and infamous the Soviet campaign to “compromise” us was, it usually did not raise a laugh or provoke indignation. On the contrary, it gave the West an excellent excuse to wrap up the campaign for the defense of human rights in the USSR at the most decisive moment, as Andropov reported to the CC in March 1977 (24 March 1977, Pb 50/71):
The Committee for State Security reports that the materials published with the sanction of the CC CPSU in “Izvestia,” exposing the hostile and incendiary activity of US special services among “dissidents” in the USSR, played a certain part in discrediting the anti-Soviet “human rights” campaign in the USA.
The matter in question was the publication of a letter from one Lipavsky containing the usual “exposure” by a usual KGB informer, a nonentity unknown to anyone. Such “exposure” by persons who had broken under investigation or were broken by some other means numbered dozens, and usually made no impression. Only an idiot would not know that the regime was capable of squeezing out such “exposures,” or even worse ones. If Nikolai Bukharin could “confess” to sabotage, what could be expected of some Lipavsky? But the campaign for human rights was already beginning to bore the West, forcing it to change all its long-term policies, all its priorities. The resistance of the Western elite to such radical changes was enormous. Hence the sudden effect of disinformation, essentially very primitive, concerning the as-yet-unarrested Anatoly Sharansky (24 March 1977*, Pb 50/71):
According to information received, the implemented measure aroused a serious reaction in the USA and other Western countries. Reports in American newspapers, radio and television express public concern regarding the line taken by the CARTER administration in support of “dissidents” and open interference in the internal affairs of the USSR and other socialist countries. It is noteworthy that commentaries in American media contain no serious arguments in defense of this line.
The materials published in “Izvestia” have cast American diplomats and journalists accredited in the USSR into confusion and have had a restraining effect on their contacts with “dissidents.” Following instructions from Washington, they are refusing to make any comments and limit themselves to bald rejections of the facts contained in the open letter and article.
However, within their own circle, US embassy staff express fears that the Soviet side may demand the expulsion of diplomat [Joseph] PRESEL, who has compromised himself by links with the CIA. It is planned to hold a press conference with the author of the open letter and publish exposing materials in other newspapers. There has also been definite confusion in the ranks of pro-Zionist sympathizers and “dissidents” who maintain active links with American representatives in the USSR.
Elated by the unexpected success of a rather run-of-the-mill disinformation action, Andropov proposed (and the Politburo approved) a plan for expanding his campaign:
The Committee for State Security deems it feasible to implement the following measures for discrediting the role played by US special services in the anti-Soviet campaign after the visit of US Secretary of State VANCE to our country:
- organize interviews with the author of the open letter, S.L. Lipavsky, with an American or other Western correspondent with the participation of a Soviet journalist for subsequent publication of this interview in “Izvestia” and the foreign press;
- with the resources of TASS, APN and Gosteleradio [the USSR State Committee for Television and Radio Broadcasting], use the articles prepared by the Committee for State Security pointing out factual data in reports and foreign broadcasts… that the occurrence with Lipavsky is not an isolated incident in the work of special services of the USA, employing “dissidents” in intelligence and subversive activity against the USSR;
- with the resources of the Committee for State Security, forward letters from ordinary Soviet citizens and collectives protesting against the interference of the USA in the internal affairs of the USSR to Washington and the US embassy in Moscow;
- to avoid provoking retaliatory measures by the American authorities toward staff in Soviet representations in the USA, it is deemed sufficient to limit our actions to compromising the first secretary of the US embassy PRESEL and the correspondent [Peter] OSNOS, without resorting to measures for their official expulsion from the USSR.
It is certain that had the American administration shown sufficient stamina at that time, and the Western public sufficient indignation to cause Andropov to quiet down, Sharansky would not have been stuck with an accusation of espionage. Instead, Carter began to make excuses, apologize, swear that he had checked with the CIA to ensure that Sharansky had not been their agent. An even more ingratiating position was adopted by Vance on a visit to Moscow. After all, détente must be saved! Western Jewish organizations also took fright—dear oh dear, what if this should impede emigration?
In a word, the West went weak at the knees, like a newcomer at a KGB interrogation, and something that had been an ordinary chekist provocation blossomed into a grandiose victory for their propaganda. As Andropov reported, flying high on the wings of victory (29 March 1977*, 647-A):
The Committee for State Security has received information that American diplomats and foreign correspondents in Moscow are assessing articles and commentaries in the Soviet press, radio and television debunking the Western anti-Soviet campaign around “violations of human rights” as evidence of the firm resolve of the Soviet Union to allow no interference in its internal affairs, especially on the eve of the visit to the USSR of the State Secretary of the USA, Vance. In their opinion, the “culminating moment in these Moscow measures” was the arrest of “dissident” Sharansky by the Soviet authorities, affirming the inflexible intention of the USSR to apply the relevant legal means to such renegades.
According to journalist [Jay] AXELBANK, the publication of revelatory materials in “Izvestia” and the subsequent arrest of SHARANSKY have placed the American side in an extremely embarrassing position. If this situation reveals more evidence of the use of “dissidents” by US special services for the purposes of espionage, this shall be a serious obstacle for Western propaganda “in defense of human rights” in the USSR, and will reinforce Moscow’s position in this matter.
REZINI, another American journalist, expressed the view that punishment for espionage to the benefit of another state raises no doubts in anyone’s minds, including American lawyers. Fears of offending VANCE are unfounded, although he may express displeasure. … After SHARANSKY’s arrest, “dissidents” headed by SAKHAROV organized an improvised press conference on March 16 of this year in a private apartment, to which they invited several American and other Western journalists and handed them prepared statements of a slanderous nature. According to data received, in its report to the State Department concerning this press conference, the US embassy in Moscow made special reference to SAKHAROV’s statements that “in the current critical situation of the Soviet movement for defense of human rights, it would be helpful if the American Congress and president would voice a reaction to SHARANSKY’s arrest. Any relaxation in pressure from abroad in such a critical moment is undesirable.”
Replying to a question from one of the foreign journalists as to whether he intended to meet VANCE during the latter’s visit to the USSR, SAKHAROV said that he did not wish for such a meeting if it would place the state secretary in an awkward position and does not intend to seek any meeting.
At a closed press conference in the US embassy on March 18 of this year, an embassy spokesman was evasive in comments regarding the appeal by SAKHAROV and other “dissidents” for support, stating that he did not know how the government of the USA would react.
In reply to a question from another correspondent as to whether SHARANSKY’s arrest would complicate VANCE’s visit to the USSR, the embassy spokesman said that the CARTER administration did not link human rights with détente.
Information received indicates that US media admit that “a specific serious charge of high treason” has been leveled at SHARANSKY, which places those attempting to support him in a difficult situation.
Cutting to the chase, the West not only betrayed Sharansky, but also undermined achievements that the West had done nothing to win in the first place. It was the laughable, Politburo-inspired definition of dissidents as instruments of “imperialist subversive centers” that, unexpectedly for its authors, carried the day and was legitimized. A year later, building on this success, they made short work of the entire Helsinki movement in the USSR, nimbly juggling its trials with trials of genuine spies, and the entire Western campaign for the defense of human rights practically ended. As we recall, the Politburo did not venture to try the “Helsinki monitors” (1 April 1978*, 785-A) for a long time, deferring their trials for a year and engaging in thorough preparation of this “measure.” The damage to the party could be too great in view of the global fever pitch around the question of human rights at that time. It is likely that had the West displayed more stamina, the Politburo would not have dared to throw such an open challenge.
The current situation is conducive to resolution of the question of conducting trials in court. Among other things, recent enemy attempts to discredit measures taken against criminals exhibit signs of wavering. There is a lowering in the tone of assertions that the investigation allegedly has no substantial proof of the culpability of the accused. Furthermore, the administration and agencies of US propaganda, while not actually denying the criminal connection of SHARANSKY and American intelligence, wish to prevent new revelations concerning the CIA and try to convince the public that his activity was only in the cause of the defense of “human rights.” A similar line of justification of criminal activity is being pursued with regard to other individuals.
It is also borne in mind that at present the formerly exposed intentions and arguments of the opponent in organizing various campaigns in the West for the defense of criminals warrant fuller consideration, and can be used for propaganda purposes.
The above and other favorable circumstances enable the development of effective tactics for the organization of court trials and their propagandistic support.
This is followed by a detailed plan of how, in what order, and with what accompanying disinformation these trials are to be conducted. The key tactic for them in this matter was the deliberate alternating of trials of Helsinki monitors with those of numerous individuals arrested for genuine espionage and totally unrelated to the Helsinki monitors. There would also be a precise rotation of trials of those who had not broken under investigation with those who had. All this was discussed quite cynically, with no circumlocution or hints:
Bearing in mind that the opponent shall concentrate mainly on discrediting the investigation of the cases of SHARANSKY, GINZBURG, [Yuri] ORLOV and [Zviad] GAMSAKHURDIA, it seems feasible to commence the organization of trials with the publication of materials exposing the activity of US special services in the collection of espionage information and creation of a hotbed of organized anti-Soviet activity on the territory of our country. Among other things, publish materials from the trial of RADZHABOV, an unmasked agent of American intelligence, in “Trud.”
The implementation of revelatory measures shall ensure profitable conditions for the simultaneous holding of the trials of [Miroslav] MARINOVICH and [Mykola] MATUSEVICH in the second half of March in the city of Vasilkov in the Kiev region, and [Leonid] LUBMAN in Leningrad. Such a combination in the order of examination of cases shall enable some neutralizing of the noise around the trials of MARINOVICH and MATUSEVICH and at the same time facilitate exposure of the interference of American intelligence in the internal affairs of the USSR.
The conduct of the remaining trials is envisaged for the second half of May–beginning of June. It is feasible to begin them with the examination of the ORLOV case in Moscow, correlating it in time with proceedings in the cases of GAMSAKHURDIA and [Merab] KOSTAVA in Tbilisi. Tactically, such a correlation shall be justified insofar as GAMSAKHURDIA has made a full confession of his crimes. GAMSAKHURDIA is the son of the prominent Georgian writer and has extensive contacts in creative intelligentsia circles, in view of which his revelatory declarations, including those about the underhanded role of established American spies acting under the aegis of the US embassy in Moscow, shall produce a favorable resonance for us. Revelations made by GAMSAKHURDIA shall, in their turn, ensure conditions for the trial of GINZBURG, and then SHARANSKY.
As SHARANSKY is charged with high treason, his trial must be correlated profitably with the trials of [Anatoly] FILATOV and [Alexander] NILOV, which shall create additional significant positions for exposing the espionage activities of the CIA on Soviet territory. These trials shall be preceded by the publication of materials confiscated from American spies [Martha] PETERSON and [Vincent] CROCKETT upon their being caught red-handed in 1977, demonstrating the subversive activity of US intelligence on the territory of the USSR.
This was a full debacle, a total surrender of its positions by the West at the most critical moment of our history. As a result, the so-called Helsinki trial became senseless, degenerating into an empty talking-shop. Despite the provisions of the Helsinki Accords, the West no longer “linked human rights with détente.” Certainly there were many reasons for such a turn in the policy of the West (we shall examine them in chapter 5), but it is unlikely that anyone could deny the role played in this by Soviet disinformation and, no matter how ridiculous it was, the astounding readiness, even desire, of the West to believe it.
Our movement never recovered fully after this rout. A year later, in 1979 and the beginning of 1980, with no particular outcries or protests, the last of us were picked up, Sakharov was dealt with, and Afghanistan was invaded—all to the approving roars of the crowds at the Moscow Olympic Games. The West could not stop even this exceptionally cynical show—the Soviet style of thought triumphed everywhere. Their “truth” won, their concepts of good and evil. As for the détente so dear to the heart of the West—it vanished just as imperceptibly and ignominiously; unlinked with human rights it was meaningless, turning into an ordinary capitulation.
It is characteristic of the Soviet leaders that they played their game unflinchingly to the very end. Even many years later, at the height of glasnost and perestroika, they did not drop their legend and remained adamant that Sharansky be released as a genuine spy—in exchange for a real Soviet spy—on the bridge in Berlin that served as the place for such exchanges. These guys never let up. As for the West, it wiped the spittle off its face, and rejoiced in its new friend Gorbachev.
As the English say, with friends like these, who needs enemies?
Without doubt, if this primitive KGB disinformation could still play its fateful role in such an important question, then it was all the more effective in less pressing issues that attracted much less public attention. Especially as chekist “compromising measures” frequently centered skillfully on purely human traits, human frailty, irregular relations, using people’s ambitions, their lack of rights, and their insufficient awareness of the West. The chekists’ scheming was incredibly unwholesome. For instance, in Sharansky’s case, it was not enough for them to brand him a spy; they had to pry into his private life as well (14 December 1977, 2643-A):131
In connection with the circumstance that the official US authorities are actively using former Soviet citizen [Natalya, changed Natalya to Avital upon arrival in Israel] Stiglitz, purportedly Sharansky’s wife, in their anti-Soviet campaign, instruct the Soviet ambassador A.F. Dobrynin to pass President Carter materials exposing Sharansky’s immoral nature, including letters written by Stiglitz’s father that categorically refute his daughter’s marriage to Sharansky and condemn her provocative activity. These materials can be handed over subsequently for publication in the foreign press.
The rationale behind this act is as simple as it is reprehensible: it was well known that Carter was a deeply religious Baptist, and held much stronger views on the morals of marital relations than was customary. And these materials are delivered shamelessly through “normal diplomatic channels,” through the Soviet ambassador in the USA. One can only guess at what scurrilous information passed via the channels of the KGB in the wings (5 November 1969*, 2792-A):
According to data at the disposal of the Committee for State Security, the opponent is considering a new publication of S. ALLILUYEVA’s book “Only One Year” as one of the means for expanding the anti-Soviet campaign timed to coincide with the centenary of V.I. LENIN’s birth. … In view of the above, for purposes of distracting the international community from the slanderous campaign being waged by the opponent with the aid of S. ALLILUYEVA’s book “Only One Year,” the following measures are proposed:
In connection with the letter of Iosif ALLILUYEV and Ekaterina ZHDANOVA to the Politburo of the CC CPSU, which expresses indignation regarding their mother’s treacherous behavior, we deem it possible to prepare and publish abroad the open letter of S. ALLILUYEVA’s children, addressed to prominent political observer [Harrison] SALISBURY, assistant managing editor of “The New York Times,” who interviewed S. ALLILUYEVA on numerous occasions and regards her personally with a measure of contempt.
This action shall be underpinned by publication of the indicated letter and an interview with S. ALLILUYEVA’s children in one of the leading European journals.
Put forward a suggestion to the Western press that S. ALLILUYEVA’s new book is the result of a collective effort by [George F.] KENNAN, [Harold] FISHER, [Milovan] DJILAS, [Georges] FLOROVSKY, [Arkadiy] BELINKOV and others, who are known to be virulent foes of the USSR and who specialize in falsifying the history of the Soviet state. At the same time, include materials that personally compromise the aforementioned individuals from materials in the possession of the KGB.
Send S. ALLILUYEVA a letter from prominent representatives of the Soviet intelligentsia (writer [Vladimir] SOLOUKHIN, screenwriter [Alexey] KAPLER, senior editor of the journal “Sovetsky ekran” [Soviet Screen] [Dmitry] PISAREVSKY, Professor [Georg] MYASNIKOV—S. ALLILUYEVA’s research manager when she defended her thesis—and others) expressing a motivated protest regarding the falsifying of facts from Soviet history and slandering of V.I. LENIN. This letter could be delivered to S. ALLILUYEVA through the resources of the KGB and with the intention that it becomes known to the Western press.
Such “compromising measures” accompanied just about any event, from the publication of books to arrests and trials, from escapes abroad of figures in the sphere of arts to large-scale international occurrences. It stands to reason that not all these “measures” were successful, but denying their significance would be the height of naivety, as the result was the creation of an enormous machine of disinformation, a whole system of “agents of influence” against whom the West had no defense. On the contrary, democracy was forced to defend the right of its sworn enemies to disseminate arrant lies. In many countries, for example the USA, the law practically fails to defend you from being slandered in the press; you must prove to the court that the slanderer acted deliberately. And if you, God forbid, are a known personality, slandering you is seen as the divine right of the press.
Moreover, the majority of these “agents of influence” were not KGB agents in the strict sense of the term. Some disseminated Soviet disinformation out of purely ideological motives, some to repay an old debt to that authority or because they expected a reciprocal favor or service, while others simply knew not what they did. After all, the “information” desired by the KGB could frequently be of equal interest to your competitor, someone jealous of you, or simply an unpleasant person, while the task of the KGB was to merely convey it on to an interested party.
The possible scenarios were unlimited. For instance, most Western specialists on Russia—Sovietologists, Slavists—were dependent on the regime by virtue of the fact that they needed to travel to the USSR from time to time. Otherwise a specialist in the Western world was not considered a specialist. Anyone could reproach him for becoming “disqualified” by breaking away from reality. Any travel to the USSR in those days was under the firm control of the Lubyanka. Yet there was also a corresponding mechanism, a much mightier one: a Soviet citizen of any profession could not travel abroad for, say, an academic conference, a guest performance, or a competition without the sanction of the KGB. Having lost the right to travel, that person became practically worthless, and could even lose his job. Thus the “resources of the KGB” were practically boundless.
Tell me now that the KGB was stupid, that their disinformation did not influence anyone. Far from it! For years, with rare patience, they built up their channels, frequently playing with people the way a cat plays with a mouse. And woe betide anyone who entered into these games with the naive expectation of outsmarting them: one can fool an individual or a group, but not the system (30 September 1968, 2281-A).132
[Andrei] SINYAVSKY, sentenced in February 1966 by the Supreme Court of the USSR to seven years’ imprisonment under Article 70 part 1 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR, is serving his sentence in the Dubrava corrective labor camp.
Monitoring of his behavior in the corrective labor camp shows that in recent times he has spent an increasing amount of time considering his future life, although he continues to deny his guilt. Unlike DANIEL and his family members, SINYAVSKY and his wife do not take part in any anticommunist actions.
For the purposes of terminating Western use of the fact of sentencing SINYAVSKY and DANIEL for anticommunist propaganda, we deem it feasible to continue work with SINYAVSKY aimed at inclining him to petition the Supreme Soviet of the RSFSR for clemency. Upon receipt of such a petition, we would deem it possible to satisfy SINYAVSKY’s request.
Approval is requested.
Chairman of the Committee for State Security ANDROPOV
Memorandum from Yu.V. Andropov dated 30 September 1968 (re Sinyavsky)
(Comrades Suslov, Andropov, Polyansky, Shelepin, Demichev)
Two years later, the following report was submitted (19 May 1971*, Pb 4/48):
Permit comrade Yu.V. Andropov to continue work, allowing for the opinions expressed at the meeting of the Politburo of the CC.
Writer A.D. Sinyavsky, author of books with anti-Soviet content, published in the West under the pseudonym “Abram Terts” and sentenced by the Supreme Court of the RSFSR to seven years’ imprisonment, has served two-thirds of his term to date.
Monitoring of Sinyavsky’s behavior shows that he observes the established regime in the corrective labor camp, reacts negatively to the efforts of individual prisoners to draw him into antisocial activity and has given no cause for the use of his name abroad for aims hostile to our state.
His wife [Maria] Rozanova-Kruglikova, who resides in Moscow, has also committed no prejudicial acts. Nonetheless, Sinyavsky continues to take the position of denying his guilt and the anti-Soviet nature of his activities, continues to consider his trial to be unlawful. However, with his consent, Sinyavsky’s wife has petitioned for clemency, the motivation for which is difficulty in raising their small son.
Having examined this petition and analyzed the materials, and also bearing in mind that Sinyavsky’s term expires in September 1972, we deem it possible to reduce his term as a measure of clemency by one year and three months.
In our view, this measure could promote Sinyavsky’s disengagement from antisocial elements and exercise a positive influence on his future behavior.
Drafts of the resolution of the CC CPSU and the Order of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the RSFSR on this matter are attached.
We request their examination.
Yu. Andropov, R. Rudenko, L. Gorkin
12 May 1971
Sinyavsky was pardoned on 19 May 1971. In 1973, Andropov submitted another report. (26 February 1973*, 409-A):
Regarding granting clemency to A.D. Sinyavsky
Approve the draft of the Order of the Supreme Soviet of the RSFSR on this matter (attached).
SECRETARY OF THE CC
The Committee for State Security is continuing work toward exercising a positive influence on Andrei Donatovich SINYAVSKY, released prematurely from his place of deprivation of liberty, creating an atmosphere promoting his distancing from antisocial elements.
Pursuant to measures employed, SINYAVSKY’s name is currently somewhat compromised in the eyes of that part of the creative intelligentsia that had supported him. Some, according to available data, consider that he is allied to KGB agencies. SINYAVSKY is adhering to the mutually agreed-upon line of behavior upon his return to Moscow, leads a reclusive life, and is engaged in creative work related to aspects of XIX-century Russian literature and the history of ancient Russian art.
By employing SINYAVSKY’s influence through his wife ROZANOVA-KRUGLIKOVA, it became possible to exercise a positive influence on the positions of DANIEL and GINZBURG pursuant to their release to our satisfaction, as a result of which they are making no attempts to play an active part in the so-called “democratic movement” and avoid contacts with YAKIR’s group.
However, it is clear that SINYAVSKY, while adhering to our recommendations, remains essentially on his former idealistic creative positions and does not accept Marxist-Leninist principles in matters of literature and art, and therefore his new works cannot be published in the Soviet Union.
Various bourgeois publishers are attempting to exploit this situation, offering their services in publishing SINYAVSKY’s works, which might lead to the formation of an unhealthy atmosphere around his name.
On 5 January 1973 SINYAVSKY petitioned the visa office of the GU MVD of Russia in Moscow, requesting permission to travel to France with his wife and son, born 1965, for a period of 3 years on a private invitation from CLAUDE FRIOUX, a professor at the University of Paris.
In view of the above and bearing in mind SINYAVSKY’s desire to retain Soviet citizenship, we consider it possible not to hinder the SINYAVSKY family traveling from the USSR.
The favorable resolution of this question would lessen the probability of SINYAVSKY being drawn into a new anti-Soviet campaign, as it would deprive him of the status of “an internal émigré,” remove him from the creative community and finally relegate SINYAVSKY to the ranks of “writers abroad” who have lost public resonance.
It may be possible to decide in the future whether SINYAVSKY’s return to the Soviet Union would be feasible after the expiry of his stay in France.
We request approval.
Chairman of the Committee for State Security ANDROPOV
I have cited almost the whole of this drama in documents, because it illustrates in great detail how step by step, how patiently and precisely the Politburo worked in preparing its “operative-chekist measures.” Say what you like, but it had an excellent understanding of its domestic intelligentsia, knowing full well how to balance reward and punishment. And even better, how to play on the intelligentsia’s narcissism. It is not my task to expose anyone personally, or even judge, especially as for most of us, there is nothing new in these documents. The fact that Sinyavskaya played complicated games with the KGB is something she never concealed.
I still remember how, having returned from camp in January 1970, I met her at a dinner with mutual friends. Curiously, this was our first and last meeting in Moscow; we had never met before, but Mrs. Sinyavskaya simply never closed her mouth. She spoke—as always—with great aplomb, saying that “we—the writers” do not need all this noise, this so-called “movement,” all this “politics.” They only hinder “us—the writers,” and we should sit still and keep quiet. And most of all, we should not get involved with all these Yakirs and similar lovers of turmoil. Observing my highly negative reaction to her “writers” line, she never sought any further meetings with me. “Sinyavsky’s authority to influence” failed—and that was that. This was all she needed to see me for, and it was the reason for dragging herself to dinner with friends on the same day I was supposed to turn up.
But that is neither here nor there. I do not care whether she used “Sinyavsky’s authority” on her own initiative or as part of an “achieved agreement,” just as it does not matter now whether she provoked endless squabbles in emigration (including constant attacks on Solzhenitsyn) in accordance with the “mutually devised line” or simply because of a quarrelsome nature. Either way, Andropov did not miss his guess. There is another amusing fact: mention of these documents in the Russian press evoked the unbridled fury of Madame Sinyavskaya. Not abashed for a moment by the amusing contradiction, she immediately—and as always, dictatorially—declared (in Moskovskiye novosti, the Moscow News) a) that the documents “are stolen,” b) that the documents “are forged,” c) that Andropov distorted everything. It was just like that joke about the overzealous provincial lawyer who claims that his client is innocent, as he has an ironclad alibi, but at the same time deserves leniency because he had an extremely difficult childhood. Then again, without pausing for breath, she went ahead and published those same documents herself—here it is, the “whole truth,” neither stolen nor forged. Finally, in a long, drawn-out article in Nezavsimaya gazeta (the Independent Newspaper) taking up two full pages in two issues, she imparted an account of her astounding exploits—how she, a clever and fearless woman, snookered the stupid and cowardly KGB, and defeated it at its own game. You see, she blackmailed the KGB, falsely accusing it of stealing some valuable books during a house search. What resourcefulness! What courage! What could the poor chekists do but allow them to depart to Paris in peace?
This would not have mattered—you will find much worse in the Russian press these days. As they say, if you don’t want to listen, then don’t, but don’t stop me from lying. Had it never occurred to them that Sinyavsky is as pertinent to the Sinyavsky-Daniel case as Kirov is to the case of Kirov’s killing? Or Alfred Dreyfus is to the Dreyfus affair? Preparing for our first demonstration in 1965, we had never seen Sinyavsky or read his books (I was later unable to get past the first twenty pages). The issue did not lie with him; the issue was to see if the public would tolerate political repressions in post-Stalin times. Would we go back to the times of the terror, or will people finally come to a sense of their civil courage? It was just a test of maturity, which only a few passed. The majority remained as Soviet as before, including Sinyavsky. A voice from the chorus—and a flat one at that.
What stands behind the leaden language of Andropov’s reports is comprehensible only to the initiated. Let us say, what does “reacts negatively to the efforts of individual prisoners to draw him into antisocial activity” mean? It means keeping your mouth shut when your cell mate is being bullied, going to work when your fellow camp inmates are striking, shamefully gobbling camp porridge when the zone has declared a hunger strike. Or what does “petition for clemency” mean? It is an admission of guilt, no matter how often you declare later that you deny your guilt. That is all the regime wanted from us—at first. Should one of us agree, then—home, freedom, warmth, food. A loving wife and fractious children. But the dying Galanskov did not agree and Marchenko preferred to die. On the other hand, the “pardoned” Gamsakhurdia made it to president of Georgia. Yet we know: the regime never rested on its achievements, it levied the debt even many years later.
On 24 July 1969, Anatoly Vasilyevich KUZNETSOV, born 1929 in Kiev, member of the CPSU since 1955, responsible secretary of the Tula chapter of the Union of Writers of the RSFSR, deputy secretary of the party organization of that chapter, member of the editorial board of the journal “Yunost” [Youth] from June 1969, traveled to England for the purpose of conducting research for a new work on V.I. LENIN.
According to information from the embassy of the USSR in England, on the evening of 28 July KUZNETSOV left his hotel and, as was later advised by the Home Office of England, applied for permission to remain in the country. KUZNETSOV’s request has been granted.
This story (4 August 1969, 1926-A) made waves at the time not just because Kuznetsov was a well-known writer, but mainly because of his sincere admission of cooperation with the KGB. To give him his due, he admitted it at once, at the first opportunity, and insisted on the publication of this admission in English newspapers in full detail, thereby hoping to expunge his guilt. Nonetheless, the story is an amazing one: according to him, he “played with the KGB” for more than a year and even wrote false, fantastically absurd reports on his friends and colleagues, prominent writers and artists, who were allegedly members of a conspiracy against the Soviet authorities—all in order to gain an opportunity to go abroad and remain there. He declared that he could no longer live in the USSR, where his talent was suffocating for lack of creative freedom.
This is not the worst example by far. At least Kuznetsov did not demand any heroic laurels, did not expect sympathy, and recounted the whole story quite truthfully. At least he felt that he had done something dishonorable. The majority felt nothing of the kind. Cultural functionaries who received permits for trips abroad were later obligated to write reports on what they had seen and heard, and occasionally to carry out a KGB assignment. They saw this as completely normal, just like informing on foreigners arriving in the USSR.
The point at issue is not the connection with the KGB per se; I always regarded that with total indifference, just as one would regard ordinary informers. I once met one of the latter by chance in the street: a quarter of a century ago he had reported such dirt about me to the KGB that I could have perished. Yet I felt nothing except a bit of pity for him. No, this is something completely different. Those I mean elicit no pity and never feel guilty. On the contrary, they fancy themselves. I don’t know, maybe I’m too subjective, but I am physically revolted by them, like at the sight of a wood louse.
As I was writing these lines, the second BBC channel showed an unusual documentary about the new hero of our times, Vladimir Vladimirovich Pozner. Yes, yes, that very same Pozner who spent years convincing Western television viewers in America, England, and France in impeccable English and French of the advantages of the Soviet system, talking about peace-oriented Soviet policies, that Sakharov was rightly exiled, that the invasion of Afghanistan was just, and that nobody but the genuinely insane are placed into psychiatric hospitals. Now, with equal conviction and a catch in his voice, he describes how terribly he suffered all those years. He—dreadful thought!—was not permitted to travel abroad for a very long time, while all his productions were “for export.” He—he!—was not trusted, he was unable to be the anchor of any program on his beloved Soviet television! And in what lay his talent? In that he was the best liar in his impeccable English and French.
It must be said, the BBC worked extremely hard; to create a hero out of very poor materials is a difficult job—something like making a heroic film about Ezra Pound in the 1940s. But they wanted this ever so much—it was probably being done by similar Pozners, only Western ones. The camera panned lovingly over Pozner taking a morning jog, Pozner with his American twin Phil Donahue, Pozner at home, Pozner young and Pozner old. Here is “his” school in New York, where he studied until repatriation to the USSR; here is the Pozner house in Greenwich Village, in the heart of liberal New York. The house is not bad at all, at current prices it would fetch several million, and it was probably pretty much the same at the time of purchase. But all this joy was lost forever due to the accursed McCarthyism; Pozner senior was a communist by conviction and a Soviet citizen by passport, who did not wish to part with the “hammer-and-sickled one” and he—what injustice!—lost his job in a large Hollywood company. There was no option but to go to the USSR—and suffer. Now, at the sight of his childhood photograph Pozner… weeps. Yes, yes, weeps with real tears.
Then came the culmination: August 1991, tanks on the streets of Moscow, Swan Lake on Soviet television and—the liberation of Pozner. Clips from Forman’s One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest: the ever-obedient giant Indian rips a stool out of the floor and hurls it through the window. Freedom! He decided, he broke the bonds.
“I shall not allow myself to believe, neither in man, nor in the government, nor in ideology. Never again!” Convincing as ever, in his impeccable English, Pozner speaks from the screen in conclusion, like an old, raddled whore swearing that she will never “give” anything to anyone, never, for any price. Just as well nobody is asking. What has belief got to do with it? We already heard the explanation: he did not believe in anything, and he lied and suffered all his life.
But come, they all suffered, struggled, were persecuted—that was the essence of the Soviet regime that never changed from Stalin’s time. Like those academics who elbowed their colleagues aside to sign the letter against Sakharov—because those who did not get to sign would not figure among the names of “leading Soviet scientists.” There was also a chance-met person who was “exiled” as an ambassador to some rundown Western country for freethinking. Even Andropov—just think how much he had to bear from the Politburo ideologues! They all struggled and suffered. One lot persecuted another, were executioners and victims at the same time. But now everyone remembered being a victim, and nobody wanted to admit to being an executioner.
The intelligentsia was the most suffering of the lot, “making sacrifices” daily to preserve its talent, its science, art, literature. It was sine qua non in our days for a writer to suffer a little to attract attention to his talent, so that it would shine and sparkle. Not too much, of course; as Vladimir Vysotsky wrote: “to be crucified at thirty-three, but not too much.” Who could be a writer worthy of that name if he had not been persecuted even a tiny bit? Tell me who would know, especially in the West, of the existence of such a “poet” as Yevgeny Yevtushenko, a member of the CC of the Komsomol, without his “authority” as a disgraced, persecuted “angry young man”? It didn’t cost him much:
The chief administration for protecting state secrets and the press under the Council of Ministers of the USSR reports that N6 [No. 6] of the journal “Yunost” for 1977 has typeset a poem by Yevtushenko entitled “The Northern Bonus.” The hero in that poem is Pyotr Schepochkin, who has worked in the north for a long time and, having stitched his “northern bonus” of ten thousand rubles into a money belt, goes on vacation. He dreams of boarding the “Vladivostok-Moscow” train, where on arrival he will “fill his belly” with beer. … After several “blurred” days in the capital and being lighter by “three bills of credit and heavier by a hundred bottles of beer,” he goes to visit his sister, Valya, who works as a nurse in the town of Klin in the Moscow region. He, who had become accustomed to throwing around thousands of rubles, is “shocked” by the meeting with his sister, who lives with her husband and child in an “edge-of-the-town” barrack on a salary of 150 rubles.
He “formulates” his “conclusion” in words addressed to an old watchman: “You’re scared of thieves? Go tell who is a thief…,” thereby hinting ambiguously that people living on a “hundred-ruble wage” and inhabiting “ten-meter homes” are, in fact, being robbed.
These moments that we find unacceptable in Yevtushenko’s poem “The Northern Bonus” have been drawn to the attention of the editor of “Yunost,” [Andrey] Dementyev, in a discussion at the Chief Administration on 6 May. Comrade Dementyev agreed with these comments but said that the editorial board will probably be unable to enter the necessary amendments to the poem as the poet has allegedly said that he will not change a single line.
It stands to reason, though, that the CC sorted everything out and made the required corrections.
Glavlit of the USSR [General Directorate for the Protection of State Secrets in the Press under the Council of Ministers of the USSR] (comrade [Grigory] Romanov) reports that Yevtushenko’s poem “The Northern Bonus” is being prepared for publication (in N6 1977) of the journal “Yunost,” and that it contains serious ideological-artistic blunders that distort our way of life.
In accordance with the directive to the departments of propaganda and culture of the CPSU, a meeting was held with the editorial leadership of “Yunost” (comrade Dementyev) and the Union of Writers of the USSR (comrade [Sergei] Sartakov). Comrade Dementyev reports that prior to clearance for publication, substantial corrections have been made to the text, bearing in mind the comments made by Glavlit.
The matter was limited to a scolding, a slap on the wrist—no more than that. The poem was published, nobody was convoyed anywhere, but the outburst of indignation, the noise—imagine, the Politburo itself intervened! Now the reader shall immerse himself in the journal until it falls apart at the seams, and articles shall appear abroad by sympathetic journalists extolling Yevtushenko’s commitment to truth. Naturally this will increase his “authority” in intelligentsia circles: he’s in disgrace, he’s angry.
In reality, they were all just complementary cogs in the same machine, some working for export and others for domestic consumption. Therefore the CC decreed (16 January 1981, St 246/49):
The leadership of the French Communist Party (PCF) has requested that some representatives of the Soviet intelligentsia, whose names are known in France, send a letter expressing solidarity and sympathy with French communists. This action is linked to a meeting of French democratic intelligentsia that will take place in Paris on 30 January 1981 and is regarded by friends as a manifestation of support for the General Secretary of the PCF, [Georges] Marchais….
Falling over one another, they rushed to sign the letter—which was composed by some semiliterate apparatchik from the international division—the most progressive and most liberal: Yury Trifonov, Valentin Katayev, Sergei Yutkevich and even Andrei Tarkovsky. What of it? Debts must be paid, “exportability” carries a price:
We express our fervent solidarity with your struggle for the flowering of national culture, the development of international creative ties between cultural workers in all countries, for peace, democracy and socialism. In our time, ideas of liberty, equality and fraternity are irrevocably bound with the ideas of socialism, which renders all forms of culture and the achievements of human genius available to the workers.
So they signed, and without even wincing; yes, the style is stultifying and “we—the writers” could have done better. They know that as a reward for this, they will be forgiven certain stylistic lapses in their own works. The censorship shall overlook them benignly: an omission here, a hint there. The Soviet “art” and “literature” they have created remained on the level of games with censorship, the level of half hints, comprehensible only to the enlightened, who were supposed to admire the courage of the authors with bated breath. All these people were phony “authorities” whose works did not, and could not, survive the regime. Yet those whose works have survived it never considered compromising their consciences for the sake of “saving their talent.” This would never have entered the heads of Mikhail Bulgakov and Andrei Platonov, or Anna Akhmatova and Osip Mandelstam, or Solzhenitsyn and Joseph Brodsky.
Yes, they were outcasts, outsiders, and—with the exception of the last two—did not live to see their main works published in their own country. But they did not sit in presidiums, did not save humanity from war, did not sing in chorus. I remember when, as I child, I was taken by my father to visit Platonov (they knew each other from their days at the front) in his watchman’s hut. My mother was very upset. “What are you doing! He’s got extrapulmonary tuberculosis, and you’re dragging the child to see him.”
“Never mind,” Father cut her off drily, “when he grows up, he’ll be proud.”
And I am proud: I saw a man who worked as a watchman at the Institute of Literature, but refused to lie in the frightening Stalin years. I later read all his books that I could find. Yet what was written by those he swept pathways for is of no interest to me. It was incredible: the sight of Platonov with a broom and a spade in his hands taught them nothing, although he was certainly the best visual aid in their academic program.
Listening now to the keening and wailing of the intelligentsia about how they suffered, how they were forced to lie, I am deeply puzzled: Why was it necessary to become writers, professors or academics at any price? As we can see here, talent has nothing to do with it; talent survives being a watchman. Everyone has a choice. But no, nobody was prepared to become a watchman, everyone wanted to suffer in comfort. Everyone needed an honorable justification for their own conformism.
I remember how, emerging from the psychiatric hospital in 1965, I suddenly discovered that all my “thaw-time” friends had disappeared somewhere, as if they had melted away. When we met by chance in the street, they would hurry away, clutching folders or briefcases or, even better, wheeling a pram. Sorry, old man, they would mutter without stopping, eyes lowered, I have to defend my diploma, dissertation, get my candidate’s application approved. Or I need to raise my children first. Then they would speed off, looking neither left nor right. It seemed as though the whole generation of my contemporaries had fenced itself off from life with briefcases and baby buggies, with academic degrees and books. Who did they think they were fooling? Themselves, the regime, their children? Did none of them realize or understand that in our time, unlike the 1920s and 1930s, any talents and achievements they might have would be used by the regime purely to people’s detriment? Was it not clear that failing to resolve these problems, it was unconscionable to burden their children with them? With time their children too would become either executioners or victims—the monstrous conveyor belt produced nothing else.
And so it was: some twenty years later those same children, conceived in deception, were packed off to Afghanistan as justification for their parents’ shamelessness, to kill or be killed. The country was dumbly silent, those parents trotted off to work with their books and dissertations; even such a sacrifice did not seem too great to disturb their accustomed small world with its sufferings and authorities. That was the cost of their self-admiration: now all those books and doctoral theses, those vehicles of self-expression that they used to justify themselves, flooded the country, and the country was sinking. But there is not even a shadow of repentance in them. Whatever for? Everyone else is to blame, not them.
It is impossible to describe the ecstasy of the Soviet intelligentsia at the appearance of Gorbachev and his “glasnost.” At the height of glasnost, in the spring of 1987, ten of us—writers, artists, and dissidents living in the West—fuming over this fantastic lie, and especially over Western euphoria, wrote a collective letter to the newspapers in the hope of introducing at least some sobriety into public opinion. This letter, which later came to be known as the “Letter of the Ten,”133 was published in the newspapers of most Western countries—in Le Figaro, the Times of London, the New York Times (“Is ‘Glasnost’ a Game of Mirrors?”134) and even, to our surprise, in Moskovskiye novosti (Moscow News), the most “progressive” perestroika-oriented Soviet publication at that time. All we said, and in a very restrained way, was that it was too early to rejoice over Gorbachev’s “reforms,” especially as they were still merely promises, and very vaguely worded promises at that. The more so while the cannibalistic system of Marxist-Leninist ideology continued to reign supreme. This letter was addressed to the West, not to them, but ye gods! How much vituperation these domestic “liberals” flung at us! Even Pravda had not reviled us to such an extent in the old days—we were “renegades” and “dyed-in-the-wool anti-Soviets” and, naturally, “CIA agents.” They published the letter of their own accord (to demonstrate the genuine nature of their glasnost), then took fright and, having taken fright, took to abuse, unashamedly resorting to hoary KGB stereotypes. I was also reminded of the “five-man storm groups.”
It stands to reason! We had dared to question their glasnost! We were renegades and traitors, émigrés who sought an easy life, while they stayed on to suffer and struggle. We were enemies of the Motherland, and they were fighters for her betterment. Incredible! Here they were, explaining the meaning of human rights to us!
The more they fretted and fumed—because they had nothing significant to say—the farther our letter spread throughout the country, rewritten by thousands of hands and photographed from the street display stand of Moskovskiye novosti outside the newspaper’s building. This was probably the first case in our history of material from official publications entering samizdat. The party had to take a serious look at its defenses. Now not only Moskovskiye novosti, published primarily for foreigners and a small circle of reliable “perestroika stalwarts,”135 but all the other “progressive” publications—that is, those who had Politburo permission to run a little way ahead of events, demonstrating their courage—were forced to enter the fray, featuring “letters from workers” and “round tables” on their pages. Ogonyok, and Novoye vremya and finally Pravda all acted in the best traditions of the Alexander Yakovlev propaganda at the times of our trials.136 The scandal stretched over many months, but the more they floundered, the more they became stuck like flies to flypaper. Was this not an omen of what their games with glasnost could lead to? Meanwhile, just when the perestroika acolytes showered us with curses on the pages of their “liberal” publications, we were receiving private messages with quite different reproaches through mutual friends:
Why have you people let us down like this? You provoked us into printing your letter, for which we got it in the neck. There’s a threat that Moskovskiye novosti is going to be closed down. How could you do this to us? We are not harming anyone, just fooling the West. We and you know what is really going on.
What could you say to them if “fooling the West,” just like informing on foreigners, is normal from their point of view? It turns out that we are guilty because we let them down, we provoked them. As one of my school friends said to me many years later: “You have no idea how you let us all down!”
“How?” I asked.
“What do you mean, how? It was because of you that we started taking an interest in samizdat and some got caught, they were barely able to graduate from university, defend their dissertations….
“Sorry, …” was all I said. What else could I say? Yes, their lives would have probably been much happier, if it were not for my example at the backs of their minds.
Starting their crafty game of glasnost, Gorbachev and Yakovlev knew perfectly well that they could rely on the Soviet intelligentsia. If anything bothered them at that time, it was the possibility of our influence; that was why they took great care to isolate us, cut us off. These concerns, as shown in documents, began long before our “Letter of the Ten” and, indeed, long before glasnost. Viktor Chebrikov, head of the KGB, reported the following in June 1986 (1 June 1986*, 1135-Ch):
Materials received by the Committee for State Security of the USSR indicate that targeted subversive actions are being carried out with the aim of discrediting the party line for acceleration of the socioeconomic development of the country and further perfection of the social process, in which the opponent is paying special attention to representatives of the Soviet creative intelligentsia, first of all to figures in the literary and arts spheres. In view of the upsurge of activity in the political and work aspects in the life of our country, Western special services and centers of ideological subversion are updating their methods of undermining activity, aimed at the “ideological deformation of the socialist system” and promotion of revisionist and oppositional moods, and they are attempting to lead Soviet literary figures on to the path of divergence from the principles of socialist realism and the party orientation of literature. In order to achieve its hostile intentions, the opponent attempts to infuse the consciousness of the creative intelligentsia with a nihilistic evaluation of the entire socialist construction in the USSR. Political retrogrades such as Solzhenitsyn, [Lev] Kopelev, [Vladimir] Maximov, [Vasily] Aksyonov, [Georgi] Vladimov and suchlike are being “reanimated” and moved into the arena of ideological warfare, entering the path of active hostile activity. Many of them have become direct participants in and executors of anti-Soviet provocations and extensive propagandistic actions. On assignments of the special services they search for fellow thinkers and try to establish contact channels with negatively minded people among the creative intelligentsia in our country.
In view of the party line for the further democratization of Soviet society, the opponent has the primary aim of a mass cultivation of those literary figures who have displayed ideological wavering in the past, not always passed the test of civil maturity and class conviction, directly or indirectly raised doubts about the correctness of the party line regarding collectivization, the actions against kulaks, the struggle against Trotskyism, the national policy of the CPSU, have made claims about the lack of social justice and creative freedom in our country, have demanded the “abolition of censorship” and the removal of literature and the arts from the control of party agencies.
It is worth noting that it was just these issues that were expounded by Solzhenitsyn in 1976 in his provocative letter to the Fourth Congress of Soviet Writers, which received the support of eighty members of the Union of Writers of the USSR. They included [Anatoly] Rybakov, [Felix] Svetov, [Vladimir] Soloukhin, [Bulat] Okudzhava, [Fazil] Iskander, [Boris] Mozhayev, [Mikhail] Roshchin and [the poet Vladimir] Kornilov.
Available data indicate that during the entire subsequent period these writers were under the close scrutiny of the special services and the ideological subversive centers of the opponent. In recent times, their ideological cultivation has increased considerably both from the position of representatives of capitalist countries in Moscow and in the course of their visits abroad within the framework of international cultural exchange. …
The opposition is attempting to position the matter in a way that implies that at present “in Russian literature, as in the Russian social consciousness, a new epoch has begun that is much less dependent on the ideological policy of the party. … Social thought has moved to a cardinal reevaluation of the entire spiritual and historical situation.” With this in view, the special services have advanced a thesis on the so-called “unity of global Russian culture” that they try to impose on representatives of the literary community of the USSR, promoting its idea of merging on the basis of “common spiritual orientation and aims” of the creative process of the creative intelligentsia in our country and former representatives who are actively engaged in anti-Soviet activity and have been assigned the status of “geniuses of Russian literature in exile.”
According to available data, individual Soviet literary figures have advocated the review of relations regarding the personalities and works of various renegades in public and private appearances, and insist on the timeliness of a review of their works as an integral part of a “united Russian culture.” Among other things, [Valery] Roschin and [Anatoly] Pristavkin express an opinion on the possible return of Solzhenitsyn to the USSR and the feasibility of an imminent publication of his “works” in our country. At a meeting of the Moscow branch or the All-Russian Union of Poets in April of this year, [Vladimir] Leonovich publicly called for a review of attitudes toward [Vladimir] Voinovich and Brodsky, renegades who reside abroad. At an evening in the State Museum of V.V. Mayakovsky in March 1986, he gave a positive appraisal of the works of the anti-Soviet [Alexander] Galich, expressing dissatisfaction with the circumstance that we do not publish his courageous works. Speaking at the All-Union Seminar of Academic Slavists in Narva-Joesuu in the Estonian SSR, Leonovich called Galich “the leading light among significant bards of Russia.”
In recent times, various agencies have received requests and letters in defense of certain persons sentenced for unlawful activity who were actively used by the West for purposes hostile to the USSR, and their libelous productions are now being declared “an integral part of Russian literature.” … The Committee for State Security of the USSR is implementing the necessary measures to counteract the subversive aims of the opponent within the creative intelligentsia community.
That really worried the CC. It was not by chance that Gorbachev added the following resolution to the abovementioned report:
- To be forwarded to all members of the Politburo of the CC CPSU, candidates for membership of the Politburo of the CC CPSU and secretaries of the CC CPSU.
- Comrades [Yegor] Ligachev and A.N. Yakovlev. Please discuss this with me.
All the tens of thousands of Soviet pen pushers—be they “left” or “right” or “progressive” or “reactionary”—with their eternal bickering and sham nonconformity suited the authorities down to the ground, even in any combinations that might be required by the party (26 June 1986*, Pb):
GORBACHEV. Let us hear information from comrade A.N. Yakovlev on the progress of work at the Congress of writers of the USSR.
YAKOVLEV. All in all, the congress is proceeding in compliance with party decisions, but with some contentions. Harsh characterizations are being given in some of the working groups. At times this goes to extremes. The poet [Stanislav] Kunayev had a physical fight with one writer. The question of periodic changes in members of the board of the Union of Writers is being raised in debates. It is proposed that they be elected for a maximum of two terms. The current leaders of the Union of Writers are being described as “children of their time” who should retire along with that time. The audience greets such declarations with enthusiastic applause.
The leadership of the Union of Writers is being criticized for opacity, lack of democracy and bureaucratism. …
[…]
… [Georgy] Markov is presently in the hospital. Maybe this version warrants consideration: Markov—chairman of the board, [Yuri] Bondarev—first secretary. But at the same time a working bureau could be created in the composition of comrades [Dmitri] Bykov, [Sergei] Zalygin, [Vladimir] Rasputin, [Chingiz] Aitmatov and several other writers. It would not be advisable to discount comrades Yevtushenko, Voznesensky and [Robert] Rozhdestvensky. It should also be borne in mind that the overall mood is such that the old composition of the leadership may be blackballed.
GORBACHEV. I do not think that we should focus on one person, there is no need to fight over drawing a line for nominating candidates for its leadership.
YAKOVLEV. If ten additional candidates’ names go on the ballot paper, the old leadership may be blackballed. In that case, it would be possible to have a reserve version: chairman of the board—comrade Zalygin, and first secretary—comrade Karpov. But even in this case, it would be feasible to create a working bureau.
[Andrei] GROMYKO. Which version are the writers favoring?
YAKOVLEV. As for the first version, the election of comrade Markov as chairman, it must be borne in mind that he has been in the leadership of the Union of Writers for a long time, and this may come under criticism.
GORBACHEV. Of course, comrade Markov’s election would be the best option. How is Bondarev’s candidacy regarded?
GROMYKO. He is a prominent writer.
[Mikhail] SOLOMENTSEV. He sticks to the right line.
[Vitaly] VOROTNIKOV. Comrade Bykov could be included in the composition, and several others.
MEDVEDEV. Will comrade Bondarev be blackballed?
YAKOVLEV. He shouldn’t be.
GORBACHEV. Maybe if comrade Markov is not elected, comrade Zalygin would be a suitable choice. But he’s old and rather frail. It looks like we should steer in the direction of comrade Bondarev.
[Mikhail] ZIMYANIN. And what should be done about the secretariat of the board of the Union of Writers?
GORBACHEV. Let it stay.
YAKOVLEV. If we are setting our sights on comrade Bondarev as first secretary, we should discuss it with comrade Markov.
GORBACHEV. Everything should be discussed with comrade Markov. He should receive his due. And even if he is not elected, he deserves to be treated well.
YAKOVLEV. Is it necessary to talk to comrade Bondarev?
LIGACHEV. After his election to the board of the Union of Writers.
GORBACHEV. Agreed. In any case, the choice will be from those who are elected to the board. Philipp Denisovich, what do you think?
BOBKOV (deputy chairman of the Committee for State Security of the USSR). If information gets out about our attitude toward Bondarev, he may not be elected. So this is something that should not be voiced prematurely. As for comrade Bondarev, he is a good candidate.
[…]
GORBACHEV. Yes, there is no need to put comrade Bondarev into a tight spot.
LIGACHEV. Generally speaking, a change of the leadership of the Union of Writers is very timely.
GROMYKO. We should not take the change of leadership in the Union of Writers hard. The main thing is that it should be creative and authoritative. After all, there was a time when the Union of Writers did not exist, but there were still always authorities in literature.
GORBACHEV. Of course, the general mood toward a change of leadership should be taken into account. There is no need to dramatize the situation. Egor Kuzmich is quite right, the question is timely. Let us decide firstly to orient toward comrade Markov being elected chairman, and comrade Bondarev secretary. For this, we need to exercise our influence. There are sure to be meetings of party groups at the congress?
YAKOVLEV. Yes.
GORBACHEV. Let us proceed on that assumption, and let comrade Yakovlev get back to the Congress.
As a result, comrade Markov became chairman, and the backup candidate—reserve colonel and patriot comrade Vladimir Karpov, who had the reputation of being a great liberal—became secretary. But how much rejoicing followed—in the East and in the West—regarding these revolutionary changes! This marked the start of a new era—their glasnost.
Beyond doubt, glasnost and perestroika were a diabolical invention. It was not bought by just the Soviet intelligentsia, which was always up for grabs; the whole world bought it. And how could one not buy a young, energetic General Secretary, though he had not even started talking about reforms, after a procession of dull, unsmiling Kremlin oldsters, their endless funeral processions, and moreover, after the tensions that had resurfaced as the Cold War at the beginning of the 1980s, with its arms race, peace movements, and crises. Who would not wish that all this were in the past? And no matter how much you try to explain to people that the Soviet system is not a monarchy, and the General Secretary is not the tsar, who at that time did not wish the best of luck to the new reformist tsar? Out of hundreds of thousands of politicians, journalists and academics, only a tiny handful retained sufficient sobriety not to yield to temptation, and it was an even tinier one that had the courage to voice their doubts aloud.
But did anyone want to listen to them?
Meanwhile, it was enough to just look at Gorbachev, hear his incorrect, stilted, and senseless speech, the endless drivel of a small-time party functionary—he benefited greatly from translation—to shed any illusions and pipe dreams once and for all. It was enough to have even a cursory knowledge of the Soviet system to harbor no illusions from the start; it was impossible for a liberal reformer to climb to the top of the party ladder. Such miracles do not occur.
But everyone yearned for a miracle!
Skeptics were attacked viciously, like enemies, like destroyers of future humanity: Keep quiet! Don’t scare him off….
It was as if we had all suddenly become accomplices in a huge global conspiracy, and mentioning it aloud meant betraying the conspirators, waking the dreaming foe. Shhhh… quiet. He might wake up….
This was just how the Soviet press (and the Soviet intelligentsia) assessed our “Letter of the Ten”: as a “denunciation of our own people” (Pravda), as “an attempt to kill perestroika” (Moskovskiye novosti). This begs the question: What is this perestroika that it can be killed unexpectedly with one word of doubt? A denunciation of whom? Where has this unseen foe concealed itself? In the East? In the West? Whom were we to fool by a love for our country? Certainly not the Politburo—it was a child of their own making.
It was the genius of this invention that no logical arguments had any effect on people. It was a kind of mass psychosis similar to the irenic hysteria of the early 1980s, and what’s more, one inspired by the same Kremlin manipulators. Certainly not by Gorbachev himself, that provincial apparatchik, capable only of petty crookery at best. Brilliant director Yuri Lyubimov, with his professionally sharp eye for typical characters, noted the amazing likeness of the new General Secretary to the epitome of a classical Russian swindler:
“But he’s a typical Chichikov—a gentleman pleasing in all respects! And truly, just for fun, take a look at Gogol’s description of his immortal hero: ‘The gentleman in the chaise was not particularly handsome, but of a pleasing appearance, not too stout, but not too thin, not really old, but not too young.’”
It was this all-around pleasantness that marked Gorbachev as a suitable candidate for carrying out the grandiose “operative-chekist undertaking,” planned and developed by that master of such things, Andropov, toward the end of Brezhnev’s reign. Not for nothing did the chekists confide in specially trusted members of the “liberal” intelligentsia of the time: Wait, don’t be in a rush. We’ll finish off the dissidents, Brezhnev will die, and the time of great changes will start.
Gorbachev himself admitted this toward the end, when the process had spun out of control and many began to blame him for the poorly planned nature of the reforms. What do you mean, poorly planned?! he fumed. The planning was thorough: long before 1985, 110 studies were submitted to the CC by various brain trusts. “They all relate to the period when the April Plenum was far in the future,” said Gorbachev, speaking to a group of so-called activists in the fields of culture and science in January 1989. (The text was printed a year later for all to read on the front page of Literaturnaya gazeta, 11 January 1989.)
And really, could the secretary of an obscure regional committee, who made it into the CC only in 1978 and was charged merely with the duty of curator of agriculture, devise such a devilish plan so ably aimed at the psychology of the Western establishment? He had never visited the West until 1984—before the time when the Party apparatchiks started grooming him actively for the part of General Secretary. No, the hand of the master of disinformation was clear to see, his fifteen-year experience as the head of the KGB and his belief that conspiracy was the moving force of history. Who else could have thought up the staging of the Moscow hybrid of the “Prague Spring” and Lenin’s New Economic Policy? Who else could have created the appearance of political pluralism through the means of the KGB?
That very word, perestroika, was also a masterstroke of propaganda. What does it really mean? Whole libraries of books and studies were written on this subject in the West, and the whole world, like a flock of parrots, dutifully intoned, pe-res-troika!
Yet it would seem plain: constructing perestroika was the same as turning a garment. It did not promise anything new; just the same material turned to show a still-clean lining. The same socialism, but with a new facade. So they “rebuilt” the concentration camp of socialism into a huge Potemkin village. To be sure, such an operation could not be devised by a specialist on agriculture; Potemkin villages yield no harvests.
Now, when the edifice of this measure came crashing down, it emerged just how these fictional parties, KGB-inspired national fronts and various ultranationalistic bogeymen such as the neo-Nazi group Pamyat were created. A.N. Yakovlev admitted recently that even Zhirinovsky was a creature of the KGB, approved by the CC in 1989. But the greatest chef d’oeuvre had to be the legend of the struggle within the Politburo between the reformers and the conservatives, thanks to which the entire world saved Gorbachev for a whole seven years! And how he was saved! In loans and credits alone, Gorbachev milked the West—that is, Western taxpayers—to the tune of $45 billion. To say nothing of the Nobel Peace Prize, which he managed to get for himself. And now the question arises—where did all that money go? God alone knows in which Swiss banks it settled.
Recalling that time, I cannot rid myself of a feeling of physical nausea. The world was prepared to forgive everything: the Moscow-provoked Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, the April 1989 slaughter in Tbilisi, and even the provocations of Soviet special forces in the Baltics in January 1991, although anyone could watch the latter two on television screens. As though nobody even dimly aware of the Soviet system could not see that not a single one of these events could have occurred without the approval of the General Secretary. But anything to hang on to the golden dream of perestroika, anything to prevent the “conservatives” from devouring the “reformers” in the Politburo! Thousands of people died, but the world was concerned solely with the dread that this might hurt Gorbachev.
It is astounding that a man who had concentrated more power in his hands than Stalin and Mao Zedong together was seen as a victim, a driven opponent. Does history have another such example? The subject was practically inexhaustible: his could be “a struggle for succession” or “a struggle for power”; one lot of names or another of “enemies of perestroika” would be dutifully spread abroad by hundreds of thousands of journalists, observers and “experts.” Whether they knew or not that they served the channels of disinformation, this shall remain a heavy sin on their conscience. Even now, when all has become clear, not one of them has recanted. On the contrary, they are now at the top of the pyramid; consider Strobe Talbott, who elevated Gorbachev to “man of the decade” in Time magazine and is currently the main architect of Clinton’s relations with the East.
Where is that so-called struggle? I look at the minutes of the Politburo meeting on 11 March 1985, at which Gorbachev was elected General Secretary (11 March 1985, Pb). Elected, you should note, unanimously. This is a lengthy and boring document, full of panegyrics uttered by all those present in turn. For that reason I shall not quote it in full, but cite only the words of those who were frequently pointed out as Gorbachev’s competitors for the post, enemies of his policies, “conservatives” and “reactionaries”: Grishin, Romanov, Chebrikov, Demichev, and Ligachev.
[Viktor] GRISHIN. We have to reach an extremely important decision today. The issue is the continuation of the party line, the succession of the leadership. The General Secretary of the CC is the person organizing the work of the Central Committee. So this post should go to the one who satisfies the highest demands. He should have knowledge, a principled position and relevant experience and, moreover, a great degree of tolerance. Last night, when we heard about the death of Konstantin Ustinovich, we had predetermined this question to some extent in agreeing to confirm Mikhail Sergeyevich as the chairman of the funeral committee. In my opinion, he has all the qualities required for the post of General Secretary of the CC. He is a man of great erudition. He graduated from the law faculty of Moscow State University and the economics faculty of an agricultural institute. He has extensive experience of party work. So I believe that there is not and cannot be a better option than to nominate him for election to the post of General Secretary of the CC of the CPSU. As for us, we shall all actively support him in our respective posts.
ROMANOV. Mikhail Sergeyevich has a wealth of life experience behind him. He started from the bottom in the Komsomol and progressed to party organizations. This where he displayed his abilities as a mass organizer. I can say on the basis of my previous work that the party active has a high opinion of M.S. Gorbachev’s activity. He is an erudite man, he was able to sort out numerous highly complex matters of scientific and technical progress. Not only did he sort them out, he began to seek solutions to many other problems connected with the implementation of the achievements of science and technology in industry. Nikolai Alekseyevich Tikhonov has spoken of Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev’s work in the Commission charged with improving the agricultural mechanism. The tone of this commission is set by comrade Tikhonov, and Mikhail Sergeyevich, leaning on the sectors of the CC, tactfully introduces his suggestions, most of which are approved by the commission.
Mikhail Sergeyevich is very demanding in his work. But this trait combines actively with genuine assistance to people, with confidence placed in him. Therefore I am convinced that he shall ensure fully the succession of the leadership of our party and will cope with those obligations that shall be entrusted to him.
CHEBRIKOV. Andrei Andreyevich Gromyko has set the tone of today’s discussion. He said rightly that we must look to the future. The ability to look forward is probably the most important issue at present. I was also impressed by A.A. Gromyko’s observation concerning the need to preserve and reinforce the unity of the Politburo, the Central Committee, our entire party. In today’s consideration of the General Secretary of the CC CPSU, we must define clearly the man capable of fulfilling this difficult task. I am certain that Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev will handle this task honorably. These qualities in Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev were highly rated by L.I. Brezhnev, Yu.V. Andropov and K.U. Chernenko.
The leader of our party must possess a sound theoretical and practical basis. One could cite a number of M.S. Gorbachev’s articles and addresses. I shall only refer to his recent address at the All-Union Scientific-Applied Conference. I am sure that we all noted what a courageous and strong address this was.
Mikhail Sergeyevich is a very contactable person. He is able to listen to the opinions of others and treat problems raised with understanding. And there are numerous problems in our country. Their solution requires a man who has a good grasp of these problems, a man possessed of great capacity to work and erudition. M.S. Gorbachev has both these qualities in abundance.
On my way to the plenum today, I consulted my work comrades. Our department is such that it must have a good knowledge of not just problems of external policy, but also issues of an internal, sociological nature. So allowing for all the abovementioned circumstances, the chekists instructed me to nominate M.S. Gorbachev to the post of General Secretary of the CC CPSU. You know that the voice of the chekists, the voice of our body, is the voice of the people. As for us, we shall do our utmost to work at the top level of the tasks faced by the Committee for State Security. The united chekist collective shall do all it can to work even more effectively under the Politburo of the CC CPSU headed by the General Secretary of the CC CPSU, M.S. Gorbachev.
[Pyotr] DEMICHEV. I will be very brief. I am certain that we are making the right choice. Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev is well known in our country. He is also quite well known abroad. The fact that he is able to work abroad has been demonstrated amply by his trips to England, Canada and the People’s Republic of Bulgaria.
GROMYKO. Italy as well.
DEMICHEV. Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev has a feeling for the novel, broad erudition and organizational talent. He is a charming person. It is no secret that after Yu.V. Andropov’s death, he undertook dealing with all the questions relating to the work of the Central Committee, but especially in the field of our agricultural and industrial complex. It is no exaggeration to say that he attracted our scientists, the creative intelligentsia and writers. He is very worthy of occupying this high post.
LIGACHEV. First of all, I would like to note the very important introduction made by A.A. Gromyko. Undoubtedly, Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev has all the attributes of an outstanding political personality. Furthermore, he is endowed with an excellent reserve of intellectual and physical stamina. It should also be noted that M.S. Gorbachev is always keen to work and aims to organize matters to the best advantage in small and large problems. As you know, this is extremely significant with regard to all party organizational work, the improvement of its style and methods. That work embraces the cadre’s policy, the activity of the Soviets, trade unions, the Komsomol, so familiar to Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev, who enjoys the great respect of party, trade union and Komsomol organizations, the active functionaries of our party and the nation as a whole. I have heard this today from many secretaries of regional and district party organizations. The nomination of M.S. Gorbachev shall make our people proud and augment the authority of the Politburo of the CC CPSU.
And so spoke all the present members of the Politburo, secretaries of the CC (with the absence of Vladimir Shcherbitsky, who was on a visit to the USA and thus unable to attend). So where is the struggle for succession? Not a hint of it, not a shade of doubt. What was the origin of the rumors (and even assertions) that Gorbachev was elected with a bare minimum of votes? Maybe the idea of perestroika struck them without warning? Maybe it precipitated the subsequent struggle for power? On the contrary, they were perfectly informed of the plan the new General Secretary was to carry out; therefore they stress the energy, the innovativeness of their candidate, the problems facing the country. The issue of succession appears to have been settled well in advance, possibly under Andropov, and the proceedings of 11 March were a mere formality.
Moreover, having studied dozens of Minutes of meetings of Gorbachev’s Politburo, I found no mention at all of any “struggle.” Of course there were differences of opinion, doubts and even arguments regarding specific problems, just as there were in Brezhnev’s time. In fact, they were fewer and less acute than those Andropov had with ideologues. If there were any “conservatives” among them, Gorbachev was the real conservative, as he always adopted a cautious approach. But unpleasant problems were charged quite consciously to those who were labeled conservatives, while the pleasant ones were allotted to the “reformers.” There are numerous examples of this, some of them quite amusing (20 March 1986*, Pb):
GORBACHEV. I have deferred one matter. It was raised on my assignment by comrade [Vladimir] Dolgikh. Here is his memo [reads]. This is on the question of returning its former name “Arktika” [Arctic] to the icebreaker “L. Brezhnev.” The new icebreaker can be called “L. Brezhnev.”
[Lev] ZAIKOV. They already have the nameplate “L. Brezhnev” installed.
[Heydar] ALIYEV. Launch “L. Brezhnev” without publicizing it.
[Nikolai] RYZHKOV. This should be done in one day, without any televising.
GORBACHEV. Let us instruct comrades Ligachev and Zaikov to think the matter over and report their proposals.
There is another question. [Reads letter from Alliluyeva.] Of course, there was much haste in making a decision on her arrival. The first desire was, to let her come, but maybe without undue speed. It should be discussed.
CHEBRIKOV. The first letters were good, expressing gratitude. But here she fails to address fifty percent of the problems raised. She was taken to hospital yesterday with a heart attack.
GORBACHEV. We need to hear her daughter’s opinion and have a high-level meeting. It may fall to me to make determinations concerning Stalin, Stalingrad, and so forth. I’m from a family like that myself. My uncle’s health was destroyed. My mother had to raise five children in extreme poverty. I received a medal for my essay on “Stalin is our military glory, Stalin is the flight of our youth!”137 So may it be advisable to assign such a meeting to comrade M.S. Solomentsev?
GROMYKO. Or possibly comrade Y.K. Ligachev?
GORBACHEV. Let us assign this to comrade Ligachev.
It emerges that Gorbachev was himself unable to determine just what kind of a family he came from—the one that suffered, or the one that remained eternally in the realm of “the flight of youth.”?
In fact, little is really amusing in this business. Their games cost us all a high price.
It stands to reason that in such a massive imitation of democracy, the first question the authorities had to tackle was whether to keep the initiative or allow the real opposition to consolidate. The example of the Polish trade union Solidarność (Solidarity) would have been a grim reminder always at the back of their minds. That is why, before establishing their fronts, it was necessary for them to finish off, once and for all, the opposition groups that had formed over twenty years of struggle against the regime. First and foremost, they had to break the stubborn zeks, destroy their moral authority, force them into ideological disarmament. At the same time, it was impossible to count on success in the West while the problem of political prisoners remained unresolved; it was far too obvious.
This was a problem to which the future winner of the Nobel Peace Prize turned his hand immediately after coming to power. On the surface, 1985 was not distinguished by any high degree of mercy; on the contrary, arrests and persecutions increased. This is understandable: the first task was to “cleanse” the country of all potential opposition. In the personal report of KGB head Chebrikov to Gorbachev regarding work carried out by his department for 1985, Chebrikov noted the following, among other things (19 February 1986*, 321/Ch-ov; italicized figures are entered by hand):
Over the reporting period, agencies of state security have intensified the struggle against ideological saboteurs of the class enemy. …
[…]
The actions of several hundred emissaries and functionaries of foreign anti-Soviet nationalist, Zionist and clerical organizations have been prevented and suppressed in Moscow, Leningrad and the capitals of other Union republics. Of these, 300 were deported and 332 refused entry into the USSR. …
Twenty-five illegal nationalist groups were uncovered and liquidated in Ukraine, the Baltic republics and some other places at the stage of inception. Attempts to create a number of illegal groups by pro-Zionist elements were averted successfully. Twenty-eight of the more active inciters of hostile activities were brought to book on criminal charges. Timely measures prevented the formation of ninety-three youth groups based on ideologically harmful leanings.
Eleven leaders of illegal religious sects were brought to book on charges of hostile activity and other actions, the illegal activities of many other religious extremists were averted, and several printing shops, transit depots and stores of literature were liquidated. The measures taken put an end to activities on the territory of Central Asian and north Caucasian republics of around 170 underground “schools” teaching children religion, and a number of sectarian communities were advised to seek registration.
1,275 authors and distributors of anonymous, anti-Soviet and slanderous materials were uncovered, 93 of whom have been brought to book on criminal charges. …
KGB bodies have played an active role in party and state activity in educating the Soviet people toward high political awareness and respect for legislation and the law, and have conducted comprehensive work on preventing criminal, antistate actions, politically harmful processes and manifestations. Preventive and prophylactic measures have been applied to 15,271 persons.
Humane treatment of erring Soviet citizens was combined with firm and decisive prevention of criminal actions by hostile elements. The following were charged with criminal liability: for particularly dangerous state crimes—57, other state crimes—417, other crimes—61. Investigation of cases was conducted in strict compliance with criminal procedure norms, under the supervision of bodies of the Procuracy.
At the same time, pressure was stepped up on prisoners for the purpose of forcing them to repent, to recant their convictions. This pressure continued to increase in 1985 and 1986, reaching its apogee in 1986. Gorbachev was clearly in a hurry; the problem had to be solved urgently with the inception of glasnost (25 September 1986*, Pb):
CHEBRIKOV. According to our legislation, these crimes are particularly dangerous state crimes. A total of 240 persons were charged with criminal liability and sentenced for such crimes. These are people charged with espionage, violation of state borders, distribution of hostile leaflets, machinations with foreign currency and suchlike. Many of them have declared their refusal to participate in further hostile activity. They base these refusals on the political changes following the April Plenum of the CC CPSU and the XXVII Party Congress.
It appears possible to release at first one-third, and then half of these persons from penal confinement. In that case, only those who continue to maintain positions hostile to our government shall remain imprisoned.
GORBACHEV. It is possible to support this proposal.
CHEBRIKOV. We shall do this prudently. In order to be certain that the indicated persons do not continue to engage in hostile activity, they shall be kept under surveillance.
SHCHERBITSKY. What is the reason that comparatively few persons charged with committing particularly dangerous state crimes face criminal liability? Is it perestroika?
CHEBRIKOV. It is explained by the emphasis placed on prophylactic measures by KGB bodies. Many people are, if one can say so, on the brink of committing a punishable crime. In order to influence them, all KGB and social resources are invoked.
GROMYKO. Which crimes are the most dangerous, and what punishment do they envisage?
CHEBRIKOV. Espionage. This is punishable by execution by firing squad, or 15 years’ imprisonment. [Lev] Polischuk was shot for espionage. [Adolf] Tolkachev was executed yesterday.
GORBACHEV. American intelligence paid him well. He was found to have 2 million rubles.
CHEBRIKOV. That agent supplied our enemies with very important military technical secrets.
GORBACHEV. Let us agree that the proposals made by comrade Chebrikov are approved in principle. Let the KGB submit proposals in the established procedure.
POLITBURO MEMBERS. Agreed.
Note how craftily foreign currency dealers, spies, and political opponents are lumped together. As if they did not know the difference between them. The supposition is ludicrous. Who refused to “continue to engage in hostile activity” due to the political changes introduced by the April Plenum? Hardly the foreign currency dealers and spies. But it was probably easier this way—not to call things by their real names.
Thus, toward the end of the year, “proposals” were submitted “in the established procedure.” Chebrikov, Alexander Rekunkov, Vladimir Terebilov and Boris Kravtsov reported the following to the leadership in December 1986 (26 December 1986*, 2521-Ch; italicized figures are entered by hand):
In recent years… it was possible to paralyze the illegal activity of the organizers, inciters and active participants of illegal groups: the “Helsinki Groups,” the “Free Inter-Industrial Workers’ Association,” the Russian chapter of “Amnesty International,” the “Fund for Aid to Political Prisoners” and others, whom the opponent regarded as “forces capable of leading to a change of the state and social system of the USSR.” In the period 1982–1986, more than 100 persons renounced further participation in illegal activity and entered the path to reform. Some of them… appeared on television and in the newspapers with public declarations, exposing the Western special services and their former fellow thinkers.
In 1986, the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR and the Presidium of the Supreme Soviets of Union republics acted on submissions made by KGB bodies and the Procuracy, and sanctioned the release of 24 persons from further incarceration. The sentences of 4 persons were commuted to internal exile. The majority of them accepted the justice of their sentences to imprisonment, with the exception of [Irina] Ratushinskaya who, having arrived in the West on personal matters, continues to make hostile public declarations.
At present, 301 persons imprisoned under the indicated articles are serving their sentences, and 23 are under investigation.
Available data indicate that social changes in our country pursuant to the April (1989) Plenum of the CC CPSU and the XXVII Party Congress have influenced the thinking and behavior of some of those who had previously succumbed to bourgeois propaganda and hostile elements, committed crimes and borne punishment. Some have come to realize the harm they caused to social interests, others are maintaining a wait-and-see attitude. Some have not altered their anti-Soviet views.
In the current conditions of democratization at all levels of social life, the growing unity of the party and the people, it appears possible to consider the question of release from imprisonment and exile as a measure of clemency for some of those sentenced, and also relief from criminal liability for persons under investigation for committing the crimes mentioned above.
Persons from the indicated category may be offered the chance to petition the Presidium of the Supreme Court of the USSR regarding the refusal of future participation in hostile or other illegal activity. Upon receipt of petitions, release simultaneously such persons from serving their sentences or criminal prosecution upon submissions from the Procuracy of the USSR, the Supreme Court of the USSR, the Ministry of Justice of the USSR, the Ministry of Internal Affairs of the USSR and the KGB of the USSR in the clemency procedure of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR. … Particularly dangerous recidivists, and also persons continuing to adhere to hostile positions and refusing to give written assurances of cessation of antisocial activity, are not subject to release.
These measures would enable those who have refused to participate in further antisocial activity to resume their place in society, and on the other hand expose those who had previously hidden their anti-Soviet aims under the guise of struggle for “democratization” and “human rights.”
A positive decision on this matter shall yield political gain and stress the humane stance of the Soviet authorities yet again. In implementing the indicated measures, we may encounter recidivist antisocial activity, but in our opinion this would not lead to serious negative consequences.
This is how Gorbachev’s “democratization” began—by twisting the arms of political prisoners to the accompaniment of laudatory Western dithyrambs. Admittedly, it is hard for an uninformed public to understand what all this meant: three months in an unheated “cooler” in midwinter, fourteen ounces of bread a day, hot food every second day, and several times a week a KGB officer with the invariable question: Well, have you come to your senses about the April Plenum of the CC?
And that was not all by far; relatives came under pressure, a new term was threatened. There were cases of beatings. The chekist imagination was unlimited—some people would be changed into civilian clothes and taken home, just to show them how good it was to be free. And at the end, the same question: Well, are you ready to write a petition?
This vicious game infuriated Anatoly Marchenko so much that he declared an unlimited hunger strike, demanded the unconditional release of all political prisoners, maintained this hunger strike for more than three months, and died (4 February 1987*, 206-B). Yet even this extreme form of protest did not sober up the West. Unprecedented, shameless times were upon us.
However, Marchenko’s death did alarm the Politburo: murder was not part of their plans. There was also an effect on the West, such as it was. The process of releases had to be stepped up; pressure was decreased, demands lowered. Releases were granted upon any petition, even without an undertaking “to abstain from antisocial activity,” the main concern being that clemency was requested. Chebrikov and Procurator General Rekunkov stated the following in a personal report to Gorbachev in February 1987 (1 February 1987*, 183-Ch):
On 15 January 1987, 288 persons were serving sentences under articles 70 and 190 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR and corresponding articles in the criminal codes of the Union republics. Of these, 114 persons were sentenced to corrective labor camps for anti-Soviet agitation and propaganda (article 70), 119 persons were sentenced for dissemination of deliberately false concoctions, slandering the Soviet state and social system (article 190), and 55 persons in internal exile were sentenced under the indicated articles.
In executing the resolution of the CC CPSU N47/54 ОП dated 31 December 1986, the Procuracy and the Committee for State Security of the USSR organized the required work among this category of persons.
As a result, 51 persons gave written assurance of abstaining from illegal activity in the future. The Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR approved their release as an act of clemency.
Another 13 applications for review have been received. Work is continuing with other prisoners and will be concluded in February.
Furthermore, the cases of 4 persons being investigated under article 70 have been dismissed. The cases of 17 persons being investigated under article 190 have also been dismissed.
In corrective labor institutions and exile there are 25 particularly dangerous recidivists, sentenced under the abovementioned articles, none of whom are eligible for release from punishment in accordance with the established order.
It appears feasible to conduct corrective work with them on a strictly individual basis. Those who have entered the path of reform, condemned their past activity and undertaken to desist from such in future can be presented for clemency on general grounds. …
With regard to those who are serving sentences under article 142 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR and corresponding articles in the criminal codes of union republics (breach of laws concerning the separation of the Church from the state and the school from the Church)—10 persons, who organized illegal underground printing shops, incited antisocial acts among religious believers and conducted illegal religious instruction of children—it would seem feasible, in the present case, to present materials concerning clemency on general grounds on the condition of their undertaking to abstain from such illegal activity in the future.
A separate category is comprised of persons (96) who committed crimes envisaged by the abovementioned articles of the criminal code in a state of criminal incapacity and were directed by the courts for mandatory medical treatment. In accordance with the established procedure regarding medical reviews twice every year, those who no longer pose any danger to the community are transferred to general psychiatric hospitals or released into the custody of their relatives. At present, among other things, a number of persons ([Vladimir] Gershuni, [Vasily] Pervushin, [Vladimir] Klebanov and others) have been released from mandatory treatment pursuant to medical assessment.
Reports like this, reminiscent of body counts from a battlefield, continued to land on Gorbachev’s desk practically every month until the middle of 1987. The last I was able to look at was dated 11 May—among others, it contains the following figures:138
Pursuant to the decision of the relevant agencies, 108 persons sentenced for anti-Soviet agitation and propaganda were released on the basis of individual clemency petitions in March–April, as well as 64 persons sentenced for crimes envisaged under article 190 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR and corresponding articles in the criminal codes of other union republics.
On 1.05.I987, 98 persons from this category of prisoners (78 in penal institutions and 20 in exile) continued to serve their sentences, including 24 recidivists and 74 who have so far refused to promise to desist from criminal activity in the future.
Toward the end, the outcome we had feared most came to pass: those who were released (even with no promises) were prisoners who had support in the West. They were the ones driven abroad and usually stripped of citizenship. But this provoked no interest or indignation. On the contrary, everyone was delighted by Gorbachev’s liberality, his endless struggle against the “conservatives.” That is how it will go down in history, that Gorbachev the reformer freed political prisoners. Not all of them at once, gradually, because he had to overcome the endless “resistance of the conservatives” in the Politburo, but he managed it.
In fact, the last political prisoners were freed by Yeltsin in February 1992.
Of course Gorbachev could not fool a willing West indefinitely without resolving the question of Andrei Sakharov, who was still in internal exile. This was another problem he tackled soon after coming to power, long before any proclamation of his glasnost (29 August 1985*, Pb):
GORBACHEV. At the end of July this year, I received a letter from the notorious Sakharov. He requests permission for his wife [Yelena] Bonner to go abroad for medical treatment and to visit relatives.
CHEBRIKOV. This is an old story. It has been dragging on for 20 years. Different situations have arisen in that time. The relevant measures were employed, both in relation to Sakharov and to Bonner. But throughout all this time, no actions were taken that would breach the law. This is a very important point, and needs to be stressed.
At the moment, Sakharov is 65 years old, Bonner is 63. Sakharov’s health is not very good. He is currently undergoing an oncological examination, as he has lost a lot of weight.
With regard to Sakharov, he has lost his standing as a political figure and has not said anything new lately. Possibly Bonner should be allowed to go abroad for 3 months. Under our legislation it is permissible to suspend exile (and Bonner, as is known, is in exile). Of course, once in the West she might make some kind of declaration, receive some award or other, and so on. It is quite possible that she might travel to the USA from Italy, where she intends to receive treatment. Allowing Bonner to go abroad would look like a humane act.
There are two possible versions for her further behavior. The first is her return to Gorky. The second, she remains abroad and begins to raise the issue of reunification of families—in other words, that Sakharov should be given an exit visa. In this event, there could be appeals from state leaders of various Western countries and certain representatives of communist parties. But we cannot allow Sakharov to go abroad. The Ministry of Medium Machine Building [i.e. the nuclear industry] is against this, because Sakharov has detailed knowledge of the development of our nuclear arms.
Specialists agree that if Sakharov is given a laboratory, he could continue working in the field of military research. Sakharov’s behavior is under Bonner’s influence.
GORBACHEV. That’s Zionism for you.
CHEBRIKOV. He is 100 percent under Bonner’s influence. We are counting on the possibility that his behavior may change. He has two daughters and one son from his first marriage. They bear themselves well, and may exercise a certain influence on their father.
GORBACHEV. Is it possible for Sakharov to state in his letter that he understands that he cannot travel abroad? Can we get a statement like that from him?
CHEBRIKOV. I would say that this is a matter we need to decide now. If we make a decision on the eve of, or immediately after your meetings with Mitterand and Reagan, it will be interpreted as a concession on our part, which would be undesirable.
GORBACHEV. Yes, we must decide now.
ZIMYANIN. There is no doubt that Bonner will be used against us in the West. But a rebuttal of her efforts to gain reunification with family can be made by our scientists in relevant declarations. Comrade [Efim] Slavsky (Minister of Medium Machine Building) is right—we cannot allow Sakharov to go abroad. There is no cause to expect decency from Bonner. She’s a beast in a skirt, an imperialist stooge.
GORBACHEV. Where shall we suffer the greater damages—allowing Bonner to go abroad, or refusing to do so?
[Eduard] SHEVARDNADZE. Naturally, there are serious reservations about allowing Bonner to go abroad. But we still stand to gain politically. The decision must be made now.
DOLGIKH. Can Sakharov be influenced?
RYZHKOV. I am for letting her go abroad. It is a humane act. If she remains there, it will cause a lot of noise. But we will also gain the opportunity of influencing Sakharov. He’s now running away to hospital in order to feel freer.
SOKOLOV (Minister of Defense of the USSR). I think we should proceed with this action, it will not make anything any worse for us.
KUZNETSOV. It is a difficult question. If we do not allow Bonner to travel for treatment, it could be used in propaganda against us.
ALIYEV. It is hard to give an unambiguous answer to this question. At present, Bonner is under control. Her anger has increased over the years. She will let it all out once she is in the West. Bourgeois propaganda will have a specific person for the conduct of all sorts of press conferences and other anti-Soviet actions. The matter will become more complicated if Sakharov raises the question of traveling to see his wife. So there is an element of risk. But we will have to take that risk.
[…] [Ivan] KAPITONOV. If we let Bonner out now, the story will drag on and on. She will have an excuse for demanding family reunification.
GORBACHEV. Maybe this is what we should do: confirm receipt of the letter, say that it has been taken under consideration and that the relevant orders have been issued. We should let it be understood that we might grant her permission to leave, but everything will depend on what she will do abroad. It would be feasible to limit the matter to that for the moment.
The result was, as is known, that Sakharov promised not to request permission to go abroad, and Bonner promised to make no political statements, and the trip went without incident.
This is just one episode in the game played by the Politburo around Sakharov. Throughout 1985 and 1986 Gorbachev kept a vigilant eye on everything that concerned the exiled scientist: he personally received all the KGB-tapped telephone conversations and pieces of the Recollections stolen by the KGB that Sakharov tried to write at that time (31 December 1985, 1776-B). In June 1986 the Politburo returned to the question of Sakharov in connection with his letter to Gorbachev, criticizing the entire practice of political persecution. Explaining this issue, Chebrikov reports the following, among other things (7 June 1986, 1163-Ch):
It should be noted that the number of persons charged with criminal liability for the indicated crimes is negligible, and is tending to decrease. At present, 172 persons are serving time in corrective labor camps and exile for anti-Soviet agitation and propaganda, 179 persons for dissemination of deliberately false concoctions slandering the Soviet state and social system, and 4 persons for breaching legislation on the separation of the Church from the state, and the Church from the school. The 12 persons mentioned by Sakharov in his letter ([Anatoly] Marchenko, [Alexey] Osipov, [Ivan] Kovalev, [Viktor] Nekipelov, [Yuri] Shikhanovich and others) were sentenced for committing concrete criminal acts, that come under the norms of criminal legislation, and in strict compliance with the law. … Certain persons among those serving sentences, including Kovalev, Osipov and Shikhanovich, mentioned by Sakharov, have denounced their actions pursuant to systematic educational work, and have declared their repentance and refusal to take part in any future illegal activity. …
The questions raised by Sakharov appear to be misunderstandings, which are fostered by the constant negative influence of his wife, Bonner.
Allowing for the above, we deem it inadvisable to send Sakharov a response. A responsible representative of the Procuracy could be directed to conduct a substantial talk with him, and give reasoned replies to the questions raised in the letter.
The problem of Sakharov and the problem of political prisoners were inextricably bound: it was impossible to resolve one without the other, and the resolution of one would automatically assume resolution of the other. So the basic principle of the decision—to release only the “ideologically disarmed”—was also retained in this instance. Presenting the CC with his proposals regarding Sakharov, head of the KGB Chebrikov, Politburo member Ligachev, and the president of the Academy of Sciences of the USSR, Gury Marchuk, wrote (9 December 1986*, 2407-Ch):
The need to prevent Sakharov’s hostile activity was due to his lengthy subversive work against the Soviet state. He incited aggressive circles in capitalist countries to interfere in the internal affairs of socialist countries and to military confrontation with the Soviet Union, and he inspired protests against the policy of the Soviet state that are aimed at international détente and peaceful coexistence. At the same time, Sakharov took steps toward the organized rallying of anti-Soviet elements within the country, incited them to extremist actions, attempted to establish contacts with anti-Soviet groups in the Czechoslovak SSR, declared solidarity with the Czechoslovak “Chartists” and representatives of the Polish so-called “Committee for Public Self-Defense,” urging them to organized unification for the conduct of anti-socialist activity.
But now, due to the influence exerted by the sage KGB, having cooled off in Gorky and mainly in the absence of his wife, Sakharov resumed his interest in science, “criticized the American ‘Star Wars’ program, commented positively on the peaceful initiatives of the Soviet leadership and gave an objective assessment of the events at the Chernobyl nuclear power station.”
The indicated changes in Sakharov’s behavior continue to meet with stubborn opposition by Bonner. In fact, she tries to persuade her husband to abandon scientific activity, directs him toward the preparation of provocative documents and makes him keep diaries with a view to their publication abroad. However, despite this, it is feasible to continue efforts to attract Sakharov to scientific work, which would be useful in itself, and could restrain him from active participation in antisocial activity.
To this end, it seems possible to make a decision now regarding Sakharov’s return to Moscow, as his continued residence in Gorky may encourage him to resume anti-Soviet activity, taking into account his wife’s negative influence and the continued interest in the “Sakharov problem” in the West.
I admit my reluctance to believe that Sakharov stated that he would abstain from public activity upon return to Moscow.
Sakharov’s return to Moscow may result in some negative moments, considering Bonner’s anti-Soviet stance, her clear desire to provoke Sakharov into confrontation with us, and her blatant desire to cooperate with Western circles that wish to counteract our policy. Their apartment may again become a place for all kinds of press conferences with the participation of foreign journalists, a meeting place for antisocial elements, the preparation of negative declarations and demands. It is unlikely that Sakharov will resist the temptation of participating in matters of so-called “defense of human rights.” But regardless of the above, Sakharov’s return shall cost us less political damage than his continued isolation in Gorky. It should be borne in mind that measures shall be enacted along the line of the Committee for State Security to neutralize possible negative behavior.
In the end, both Sakharov and the “pardoned” political prisoners returned not as conquerors and not even as repressed innocents, but as the neutralized and generously forgiven. There was no word about rehabilitation, as there had been, for example, under Khrushchev. The decision was dictated, once again, by party “feasibility,” the need to minimize damage. There can be no talk of a “victory for democracy”—it was a victory of the Politburo, a victory of their glasnost.
The “pardoned” themselves knew that this was defeat; those who wrote appeals, no matter for what reasons, acknowledged the chekist “feasibility.” “Refusing activity” meant that one could have avoided imprisonment in the first place. The regime wanted nothing else from us. Those who did this were rewarded and became deputies, “political activists,” while those who refused remained “antisocial elements.” Was there anyone who did not understand what had to be denounced if this opened the way to public activity? Did Gorbachev remind Sakharov of his promise to “abstain from public activity” when he magnanimously invited the latter to open his Congress of People’s Deputies of the USSR in the spring of 1989?
This was the end of our movement, which split into those who undertook to support Gorbachev and those who refused to serve as a screen for the General Secretary of the CPSU in his games. Even those of us who were exiled to the West were divided quickly into “good” and “bad” dissidents: those who “acknowledged perestroika” and those who refused to recognize it. (As with the émigrés of the 1920s, those who “accepted” the revolution and those who did not.) Those who accepted were able to visit the country and print articles in newspapers about their heroic pasts; there was silence regarding those who refused acceptance, as though we had never existed. Only Soviet diplomats, upon encounter, would smile invitingly and be honestly offended by our stagnant distrust.
Naturally, one of the first to hurry back was Sinyavsky, who explained to the public with an importance typical of “us—the writers” that “all I had were stylistic differences with the Soviet authorities.” (Russkaya mysl, 27 January 1989)
My God, how much coyness there was in that phrase, how much snobbery and villainy. He was talking about the bastards who tortured millions of people and, as we see now to our sorrow, destroyed the country. It would be interesting to know if he would have had similar stylistic differences with Hitler. And what would be their substance? In what style would “they—the writers” prefer to kill people?
There were clearly no differences regarding syntax and grammar with Gorbachev, whom he proclaimed to be “Dissident No. 1.”
Tell us, why do you not go back? perestroika-oriented journalists asked me with genuine surprise. And it was hard to decide whether there was more stupidity or infamy in that question.
It was not enough to break the old opposition; it was also vital to prevent the formation of a new one (4 December 1987*, St 45-09):
A group of persons… is attempting to hold a so-called “seminar of independent public organizations of participant countries of the Helsinki process on humanitarian issues” on 10–14 December in Moscow. …
… [Sergei] Grigoryants, [Sergey] Kovalev, [Larisa] Bogoraz-Brukhman, [Vyacheslav] Chernovil, [Parur] Harikan and others intend to head this seminar. They have all been sentenced in the past for anti-Soviet activity and were pardoned this year by an Order of the Presidium of the Supreme Court of the USSR. [Lev] Timofeyev has declared himself chairman of the “preparatory committee.”
An “appeal” is being distributed in which the organizers of the “seminar” make a demagogic declaration, calling among other things for the establishment of international guarantees that would ensure observance by the member countries (the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe) of their obligations in the sphere of human rights, and also “the development of international control over the observance of decisions on the humanitarian aspects of the CSCE.” …
… Questions for the preparation of this “seminar” are discussed constantly at meetings of the indicated persons with the participation of foreign journalists. The attendant “Glasnost Press Club” makes no secret of its intention to unite all antisocial elements in our country, and its ambition is to play a leading role in the proceedings.
This is not in 1968 or 1977, but in 1987, at the height of the perestroika so favored by the West, with the same Alexander Yakovlev, the inventor of the party’s glasnost, in charge of “preventive measures.”
On the whole, it is clear that the issue under discussion concerns the preparation of a provocation, which in the plan of the organizers and their foreign instigators must yield dividends in any scenario: if the “seminar” is successful, it will add weight to “glasnost” and create a precedent of some kind; if the enterprise is prevented, it will give rise to anti-Soviet clamor, the more so because the event is scheduled to coincide with Human Rights Day on December 10 and also the holding of the top-level Soviet-American meeting.
In view of the above, the following measures are proposed:
- Refuse the application of the organizers of the “seminar” to the executive committee of the Moscow City Council for the rental of premises, pointing out that until the development of relevant legislation, the Provision of the executive committee of the Moscow City Council dated 11 August 1967 remains in force. [This Provision] was adopted in the interests of ensuring state and public order envisaging, among other things, the obligation to observe the Constitution of the USSR and other legislative acts. Furthermore, the “Glasnost Press Club” is not an officially registered entity, and it is not clear on what grounds it aspires to the right of organizing international events. It is assumed that after the refusal of rental of premises, the “seminar” will meet in private premises so its propagandistic effect will be considerably diluted;
- An analogous motivation should be implemented in refusing entry visas to foreign citizens wanting to attend the “seminar.” It is probable that a certain number of foreigners will arrive as tourists, and that certain Western journalists, accredited in Moscow, will participate in the meeting;
- Bearing in mind that one of the main aims of the organizers of the “seminar” is to provoke a scandal, refrain from implementing preventive measures at this stage;
- If the organizers ignore the decision of the Moscow City Council, serve them a warning along the lines of the Procuracy concerning the illegality of the putative enterprise.
At the same time, there is the question of not just administrative, but also political means for neutralizing the activity of such antisocial elements. As shown by the first trial of action in the situation of democratization, the most effective method is scrupulous individual work conducted by Soviet, party and public organizations, including at places of residence, with the implementation of a differentiated approach if necessary, exposure of the true face of these “defenders of rights” in the media.
So what changed? The same Yakovlev, the same KGB, the same “measures,” the same abuse of power. Only now the sympathy of the West is not on our side; our glasnost is not winning. Nobody wants to see that this is not democracy triumphing, but “democratization,” that there is no market, just so-called market socialism. Not even Margaret Thatcher or Ronald Reagan saw this. The Western press is full of praise in writing about all these chekist fronts and similar “public organizations,” and their Western colleagues hasten to establish bilateral business contacts and Western funds to supply them with technology and means. It is useless to argue and explain: you are regarded as an imposter, a swindler seeking to rob honorable people who, unlike you, are struggling against the “conservatives” for democracy in their own country. And who are you, anyway? What are you doing here in the West?
What is the sense of trying to explain anything? That Gorbachev’s glasnost and perestroika is a gigantic operative-chekist sham? That all these fronts are merely chekist games? At best, you will be considered a lunatic: even Reagan and Thatcher do not think like that. Even “Sakharov himself” supports Gorbachev….
What can you say in reply to them? That the game is calculated for that purpose? That its aim is to prevent the formation of genuinely independent social forces? This is quite acceptable to the Western establishment: “independents” are its greatest fear. That is the reason why dissidents did not have the real support of the West—neither before, nor during, nor after perestroika:
You are uncontrollable, I was told quite frankly by those on whom such support depended. Such touching unanimity of the Western establishment and the Politburo: they all wanted a controlled revolution, so they bred puppet “revolutionaries.”
Without doubt, Gorbachev’s Politburo had an excellent understanding of this. It was for that purpose that they created their “public organizations” to ensure a “neutralizing” effect. So in connection with the seminar on human rights they proposed the following measures, to name just a few (p. 5):
The Municipal Committee of the CPSU (comrade [Yuri] Karabasov), acting together with the Committee for international cooperation on humanitarian problems and human rights under the Soviet Committee for European Security and Cooperation (comrade [Fedor] Burlatsky), are to attract party, Komsomol, soviet and other organizations to conduct systematic work on neutralizing the activity of antisocial groups such as the “Glasnost Press Club,” including the exposure of the true face of these “champions of rights” in the media.”
This was the reason for the creation of all these commissions and committees headed by party “liberal” Burlatsky, ensuring that no Helsinki activity would get out of control. Here is the proud report of their success to the CC by the main architects of perestroika—Yakovlev, Shevardnadze, Chebrikov, [Anatoly] Dobrynin and others (19 December 1987, 2594-Ch):139
Pursuant to the adopted resolution, measures have been implemented to counteract the conduct of the so-called “seminar of independent public organizations—participants in the Helsinki process on humanitarian matters,” which has the support of imperialist special services and foreign subversive centers and is organized by antisocial elements for the creation of a standing controlling body monitoring the observance of human rights in the USSR. For the purposes of localizing this political provocation, representatives of a number of foreign anti-Soviet formations, former Soviet citizens who are renegades living in the West, members of Polish Solidarity, “The Initiative for Peace and Human Rights” group (GDR) were refused entry into the USSR, as well as instigators of nationalist and other antisocial manifestations Harikan (Armenia), Chernovol… [Mikhail] Goryn, [Ivan] Gel (Ukraine), [Nijole] Sadunaite (Lithuania) and others.
The implemented measures facilitated a certain narrowing of the circle of participants of the so-called “seminar” and prevented the unification of hostile persons with antisocial elements in other socialist countries and frustrated the formation of an organized standing center in the Soviet Union. Failing to receive permission for the use of state premises for conducting the seminar, the provocateurs dispersed to private apartments and formed sections. … They were headed by Timofeyev, Grigoryants, Bogoraz-Brukhman, Kovalev, Gamsakhurdia, [Alexander] Ogorodnikov and others, formerly sentenced for anti-Soviet activity. On the whole, they managed to draw around 150 Soviet citizens into this provocative manifestation (including more than 40 persons from 30 different cities in the country). It has been established that the majority of them had participated previously in provocative activities, for which they were charged with criminal liability, and maintained and continue to maintain contacts with foreign subversive organizations.
What did these criminals, enemies of progress, talk about? Why, even under the conditions of Gorbachev’s glasnost, were they unable to conduct their seminar? Maybe they supported the “conservatives” and spoke out against democratization?
Meetings in private apartments were of an anti-Soviet nature. For example Timofeyev (“Glasnost Press Club”) stressed in his address that “The seminar should demonstrate to the world that there are many people in the USSR who are against the socialist system….” [Gennady] Krochik (“Trust Group”) called for the formation of “free trade unions” in the country. Ogorodnikov (“Bulletin of the Christian Community”) asserted that “the USSR is a totalitarian state” and spoke of the need to increase the role of the Church in the political and social life of the country. [Valeriya] Novodvorskaya (“Democracy and Humanism Seminar”) declared: “There must be a nonviolent political struggle against the government of the USSR. The main aim of our movement is constant opposition to the government. Demand a multi-party system in the country.” [Georg] Myasnikov (“Glasnost” bulletin) claimed that half the population of the USSR lives in poverty, that there are millions of unemployed in the country, that there is slave labor and 25% of the population has no roof over their head. He alleged that not a single constitutional right is observed in the USSR.
The addresses of a number of participants called for struggle for the unrestricted right of exit and entry into the country, refusal to perform military service, the free transfer of any information abroad. Resistance to bodies of Soviet authorities, the policy of the CPSU, the creation of a mechanism of influence over the internal and foreign policy decisions of the government were also discussed.
In other words, nothing new was said in comparison with what the perestroika press was already writing. But these were the wrong people, they were “uncontrollable.” As the authors of the report admit, “the provocative action passed largely unnoticed by Soviet citizens” and [such actions] should be prevented in the future because “without doubt, its organizers shall continue their seditious activity.”
The propaganda department and the International Department of the CC CPSU, acting together with the Ministry of Internal Affairs and the KGB of the USSR, envisage developing new measures for exposing the hostile and provocative nature of the activity of the organizers and participants of the indicated enterprise, and also for the prevention of similar actions in the future.
This was probably the only serious effort to unite the independent opposition in the country. What could they do—a handful of people faced with the gigantic machine of strangulation, with no means, surrounded by the total indifference (or even hostility) of the West and their own people? Who needed their homemade journals, their limited-circulation newspapers, if every perestroika-sponsored publication had print runs of millions of copies? The times when one word of truth was more powerful than a nuclear superpower had gone with the wind: now everybody spoke “the truth,” many different “truths,” and all at the same time. Just keep your ears open! The Soviet propaganda of perestroika learned to lie even inconsistently, creating the glossolalia of “socialist pluralism.” No matter how hard you strained your vocal cords, your voice would remain only one of many, your truth one of many. Was there any chance of shouting them down?
Furthermore, there was now no need to seek any justification in order to avoid a clash with the authorities. Why look for trouble, place yourself in the way of special forces’ truncheons, for the sake of 100 percent truth, if it took only 75 percent to become a public servant with a private car? Why hurry if what is forbidden today may be permitted tomorrow? A specific feature of Gorbachev’s “democratization” was that the controlled protestors were allowed to do much more than the uncontrolled, who the minions of the law dispersed with unparalleled severity.140
The Committee for State Security of the USSR has received data indicating that extremist-minded participants of the so-called seminar “Democracy and Humanism”… are planning to stage a provocative demonstration on October 30 of this year.
They intend to hold this demonstration under the slogans “We demand the release of all political prisoners,” “We demand a political amnesty,” “Rehabilitate prisoners of conscience,” “Stop stifling free thought,” “Repeal articles 70, 72 and 1901 of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR.”
For the purposes of lending this provocation a mass character, the organizers plan to distribute an “Announcement” and a “Declaration by the participants of the demonstration for the release of political prisoners in the USSR.” Its organizers count on the presence of persons formerly punished for anti-Soviet activities and sentenced by people’s courts to mandatory psychiatric treatment. They have informed foreign correspondents of the time and place of the event. The appearance of Western tourists is also expected.
The Committee for State Security, acting together with the Ministry of Internal Affairs, are implementing measures to avert the planned provocation.
It appeared that political prisoners were being freed, there was alleged discussion about a review of the Criminal Code, but holding demonstrations for that reason was “an extremist provocation”, it was prohibited by the Moscow City Council, it was dispersed by the militia. (According to a report in Russkaya mysl dated 6 November 1987, some twenty-five persons were detained before the demonstration and delivered to various precincts where they were held for more than three hours). The man in the street could only wonder, why fight the police in city squares over something that can be published in the official press? The intelligentsia took fright: “Oh, hopefully this won’t hurt Gorbachev!” The West threw up its hands in perplexity, ascribing everything to the chicanery of “conservatives” in the Politburo. What hope could there be for the emergence of a unified, firm opposition? Even those few who tried to create such an opposition, knowing that acting alone meant death, retreated to their republics, split into small groups. The regime could not countenance them even in such a practically harmless form. In the turmoil of the perestroika years, despite all Gorbachev’s zigzags, only one thing remained unchanged and consistent: prevention of the formation of genuinely independent social structures and stopping the consolidation of a genuine opposition. Just two years before the collapse, recommending the creation of a special “Administration of the KGB for the protection of the constitutional system,” the then head of the KGB, Vladimir Kryuchkov, reported the following to his commander-in-chief (11 August 1987, Pb 164/87):
The special services and subversive centers of the opponent are transferring their activity against the USSR to a new strategic and tactical platform. … By activating nationalism, chauvinism, clericalism… they attempt to instigate hotbeds of social tension, antisocialist manifestations and mass disorder, and to incite hostile elements to actions aimed at the violent overthrow of Soviet power. Displaying stubborn persistence, they attempt to form legal and illegal groups of an anticonstitutional orientation, exercise direct control over them, render material and ideological support, and inspire extremist acts. …
The same can be said of anti-socialist elements in their illegal activity. Using some of the groups formed spontaneously under the influence of the political activity of our citizens, under the cover of slogans calling for democratization and the renewal of Soviet society, they conduct anticonstitutional work aimed at the creation of structures opposing the CPSU (italics mine—V.B.) [and] other organized groups.
Even the repeal of article 6 of the Constitution, as a result of which such attempts ceased to be “anticonstitutional,” the Gorbachev reforms did not deviate from this general line. Right up to the end, any independent groups were under pressure from the KGB, including those that were quite prepared for some degree of cooperation with the perestroika authorities. You say it could be a coincidence? And that Mikhail Sergeyevich, duped by the “conservatives,” knew nothing about this? Not in a million years (27 July 1988*, 1541-K):
According to data received, antisocial elements, encouraged from abroad by so-called “defenders of rights” and Jewish nationalists, plan to hold a seminar in Moscow in the first decade of September on the subject of “the KGB and perestroika.”
The organizers of the seminar, hiding behind the process of glasnost and democratization, have the aim of “discrediting the Committee for State Security of the USSR” by attracting the attention of wide circles of the Soviet and international communities to its “activity and crimes.” It is envisaged that among others there shall be a public discussion of the following addresses: “The function of the KGB in an era of new thinking,” “The role of the KGB in the national-democratic movement in the USSR,” “The monopoly of information,” “Overcoming the mystery and fear of the KGB,” “The KGB and antisemitism.” Sponsorship is sought from such organizations as “Amnesty International” and the “International Helsinki Federation [for Human Rights]” that have proved themselves sufficiently in the capacity of “defenders of human rights in socialist countries.”
There are plans to invite prominent Western politicians and Sovietologists, including [Zbigniew] Brzezinski and [Richard] Pipes, and also our former citizens [Ludmila] Alexeyeva, Bukovsky, [Alexander] Ginzburg, [Yuri] Orlov, [Leonid] Plyushch and others, who are engaged in anti-Soviet activity in the West. It is likely that the seminar will be attended by prominent “defenders of rights” Grigoryants and Timofeyev, representatives of “national-democratic” movements of Azerbaijan, Armenia, Georgia, the Baltics and Ukraine, and “authorities” from among Crimean Tatars and religious activists.
The organizers of the seminar intend to send invitations to Chebrikov, Kryuchkov, Alexander Sukharev, the head of the Management of Visas and Registration of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of the USSR, people’s deputies of the USSR [Ales] Adamovich, [Yury] Afanasyev, [Yury] Vlasov, [Telman] Gdlyan, Ivanov, [Vitaly] Korotich, the writer [Yulian] Semenov, the poet [Andrey] Dementyev, former chairmen of the KGB [Vladimir] Semichastny and [Alexander] Shelepin, […] the editor of the newspaper “Moskovskiye Novosti” and the television programs “Vzglyad” [Outlook] and “Pyatoye koleso” [Fifth Wheel].
The report bears the following resolution:
This enterprise must be aborted. M. Gorbachev.
What are these “subversive centers”? What are these “schemes”? This was an iniquitous time: the more the regime lied, the more sophisticated it became, the greater was the applause of the West. Yesterday’s hangmen boasted of their former crimes and the world melted: what honesty, what changes! Yet the regime still continued to kill people, suppress the opposition, harass prisoners with impunity, while the world worried that this might harm the main hangman. Just like Fonvizin’s character Mitrofanushka (“Little Mitrofan”) who felt terribly sorry for Mummy because she was so tired from beating Daddy.
I was asked at lectures, “Why don’t you want to acknowledge the obvious? Everything has improved, hasn’t it?”
“Sometimes someone who is fatally ill feels much better just before death,” I would joke, not knowing what to answer for the first time in my life. If they still did not understand the meaning of the communist system, it was too late. These were the hardest, most bitter years of my life. I had always found betrayal the most difficult thing to bear, even the betrayal of one person; but now we had been betrayed by practically the whole world, which had been seduced by a lie, by a promise of a miracle cure from a common ailment, and even worse, by a promise from a small-time con man. One by one, they disappeared—people who had been allies, friends, people on whom I depended in difficult times and who—so I thought—would believe me just as unquestioningly as I did them. We had borne so much together, gone through so much. But now it was as though they had been stricken by some virus of madness and preferred to believe someone they had never met, never looked in the eye.”
“Well, you dissidents have a jaundiced view of Gorbachev,” they would say.
What is happening? I would think in despair. Have I done something despicable in my life, or at least dishonest? Have I ever betrayed anyone or let them down?
Fairly or not, I took this as a personal insult:
“Who do you believe? Me or Gorbachev?”
They did not believe me.
Involuntarily I began to compare our biographies: in 1963 I landed in prison, and he was the secretary of the district committee of the Lenin Komsomol; in 1966 I was incarcerated in a psychiatric hospital for organizing a demonstration, and he became the secretary of the city committee of the CPSU; in 1967 through 1971 no sooner was I released than it was back to prison, and he climbed the party ladder, step by step, making it to secretary of the regional committee; he became a member of the CC when I received my last sentence. Finally he rose to the post of secretary of the CC just at the time when I, exiled from my country, was tearing myself in half between studies at Cambridge University and the need to conduct a campaign for the defense of my political prisoner friends, and published my first book; then he became a member of the Politburo just as Soviet troops invaded Afghanistan and Sakharov was exiled to Gorky. It is an amazing comparison, because we are contemporaries, participants in the same events, and the difference in our ages is a mere eleven years. It could not be that he did not know what I knew, that he had not faced the same problems, not had to answer the same questions. But he chose the path of serving lies, chose it quite consciously, negotiating all the steps of party slavery, and I made the equally conscious choice of prisons and camps, psychiatric incarceration and exile for the simple reason that I refused to lie. And now the world believed him, not me. Now tell me, what must one do to be believed?
“You suffered too much under this regime,” I was told in editorial offices, “it’s hard for you to be objective.” And my articles would be rejected.
How did I suddenly acquire the reputation of a fool who is incapable of objectivity? I would torture myself. All that I’d said and written was in front of their very eyes. One can disagree with my views, but I have never written anything stupid or dishonest in my life.
These were the hardest years, years of crisis and an acute sense of the total senselessness of my existence. I knew full well that this was the time when the fate of the world was being decided, the fate of the country, but what could I do? How could I help the handful of people attempting to counter this epidemic of lies? There remained only two or three publications in the world where I could express my point of view.
Moreover, everyone started seeing us as some kind of “splinters of the Cold War”, who were “impeding the process of democratization.” The world, losing all its sanity, tried to “save” the policy of the CPSU from us! From us!
Naturally, the regime did not miss the chance of exploiting this state of affairs: after all, its disinformation was believed just as willingly as its propaganda. KGB head Chebrikov reported the following to Gorbachev (31 July 1986*, 1503-Ch):
According to available information, a new anti-Soviet campaign is being launched in the USA on questions concerning human rights, promoted in the first place by reactionary political and Zionist circles in the USA with the participation of certain renegades who left the USSR and were stripped of Soviet citizenship. For the purposes of countering hostile propagandist actions, it would be feasible to prepare and implement a number of measures to disrupt it. For example, point out to certain US political, commercial and social circles that are interested in fostering contacts with the USSR that this new anti-Soviet campaign would complicate the general political climate in Soviet-American relations, and will cause the USA to suffer considerable political and certain economic damage.
Implement propagandistic measures to expose the unlawful activities of certain members of the US embassy in the USSR and foreign journalists accredited in our country, as well as emissaries from foreign subversive centers and organizations who use their stay in the USSR for the collection and dissemination of anti-Soviet materials, and instigation of individual Soviet citizens to commit state crimes and other antisocial activities.
Create conditions for the receipt of documentary materials by foreign journalists accredited by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, exposing the false concoctions of bourgeois propaganda regarding the alleged facts of breaches of human rights in the USSR, and factual data compromising renegades whose names are actively used by Western media in the conduct of anti-Soviet campaigns.
The “Provision” adopted by Gorbachev’s CC on this subject consisted of six points regarding demarches and publications, including the following:
- TASS, APN, Gosteleradio of the USSR, KGB of the USSR are to prepare and send abroad materials compromising the renegades whose names are actively used by bourgeois propaganda for anti-Soviet purposes, and also materials exposing the role of the US embassy and foreign journalists accredited in the USSR.
- The Ministry of Foreign Affairs, APN, the KGB of the USSR are to prepare and implement a number of measures for the information of journalists accredited by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the USSR and supply them with documentary materials exposing the concoctions of bourgeois propaganda about alleged “facts of breaches of human rights” in the USSR. Among other measures, hold a press conference for Western journalists clarifying our policy regarding the emigration of Soviet Jews from our country; acting together with the Council for Religious Affairs under the Council of Ministers of the USSR, organize interviews for journalists Walker (Great Britain), Lederichs (FRG), [Cyrus] Eaton (USA), An-Hauman (Kuwait) and other foreign correspondents who write more or less objectively about Soviet reality, with Metropolitans Yuvenaly and Alexy [Russian Orthodox Church hierarchs], the president of the All-Union Council of Evangelical Christians–Baptists Logvinenko, the General Secretary of the Council Bychkov, religious functionaries [Konstantin] Kharchev and pastor [Mikhail P.] Kulakov, Mufti [Shamsuddin] Babakhanov, in the course of which point out the unfounded assertions made by Western media concerning “violations of believers’ rights in the USSR.”
- The Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the USSR, Gosteleradio of the USSR, the KGB of the USSR shall offer assistance to Western television journalists in television broadcasts to West European countries concerning the political contribution of the USSR and other countries to the reanimation of the process of détente in Europe, bearing in mind the anti-American slant and with the participation of leading Soviet political observers.
I did not check whether the named journalists interviewed the metropolitans and the mufti. What would be the difference? The overwhelming majority of the writing fraternity in those years “wrote objectively about Soviet reality.” Those who tried to be more restrained were censored by their editors. It was de rigueur in those times to write only enthusiastic babble about the USSR, to the extent that it was surprising that the paper on which it was written did not go up in smoke out of shame. For instance, I recall the following headline in one Western (conservative) newspaper: “Is there life after Gorbachev?”
Authors, step forward! No, they won’t respond, won’t admit it. Even if you stick their noses into it, they will disclaim all knowledge. It would not be bad now to make them eat all the literary garbage they scribbled in the perestroika years.
As for measures for “compromising the renegades,” they were pursued as inevitably as rain after frogs have croaked and, naturally, contributed to the isolation to which the Western “Gorbymania” consigned us. An article here and an article there, a rumor, and before you knew it, most doors were closed to us. Finally the last coppers on which the remaining independent publications in the USSR survived were taken away. This was done with the aid of KGB “measures.” The American fund issuing these coppers, the “National Endowment for Democracy,” had been founded under Reagan, upon a decision of the Congress of the USA, as an independent public organization devoted to the global spread of democracy. In order to avoid any rumors, the board of directors was made up of representatives of both US political parties, trade unions (AFL-CIO) and the Chamber of Commerce, with its financial support being assigned openly and consciously “balanced.” The money was given to, say, black trade unions in South Africa, and to Polish Solidarity; to human rights organizations in Argentina or El Salvador, and to us.
As I have said, all this was done quite openly: the list of organizations receiving aid, their projects and moneys given were published in the fund’s annual report and sent to the press, public organizations, and congressmen. The moneys at their disposal were negligible: the fund disposed of around $3.5 million a year worldwide, and the USSR merited only about $200,000 per annum—while Gorbachev received billions. The money received was barely enough to sustain the last independent publications such as Glasnost magazine and the newspaper Ekspress-khronika [Express Chronicle], paying for the translation of their materials and their dissemination in the USA. That proved to be too much for Gorbachev’s glasnost.
Then, suddenly, in March 1988, the obscure left-wing (not to say communist) weekly Nation (I had never heard of its existence) published an article in the best traditions of the KGB entitled “U.S. Funds for Soviet Dissidents.” No, the authors had nothing against dissidents, on the contrary they are concerned that “American money” should not cause us any harm. After all, Soviet “conservatives” are famous for their paranoia, and might seize on this matter to the detriment of glasnost. The authors are even more worried that we émigrés, living in the West and receiving money from “the government of the USA” are conducting business in such a way that it “looks more like intelligence activity… than defense of human rights.”
To put it plainly, that is what is called insinuation. As if it were not they—two genuinely concerned honest American journalists—who had thought up these allegations or pulled them out of a hat, but that they worried that the “conservatives” in Moscow might interpret this situation as such. And we Russian émigrés do not take care, either through mercenary motives or through negligence. But halfway through the article the tone changes: subjunctive turns of phrase and “conservatives” disappear, the public fund becomes “the government of the USA,” and we turn into heartless exploiters of unsuspecting Russian dissidents, concerned only with how to “use Soviet human rights defenders to gather political and military information regarding the USSR.”
This was just what the KGB needed, what it had tried to link us with for the past twenty-five years. As is customary with KGB measures of this kind, this article was reprinted with lightning speed in the Soviet press and leftist publications all over the world. In Denmark, a similar newspaper, Dagbladet Information, published the article a week ahead of the Nation original without any hints, but cutting straight to the bone: “Soviet Dissidents Employed as Spies for the USA,” with a large photo of me in the center (although at first I was given only a passing mention in the article). This Danish version was reprinted immediately (removing all the authors’ “concern” for the fate of dissidents) by Sovetskaya Rossiya (24 March 1988) under the challenging headline “Bring Out Information—It’s Paid For,” while the Nation version was published just as speedily by Za rubezhom (Life Abroad) (No. 13, 1988) with an equally sensational heading: “Espionage Under the Guise of ‘Struggle for Human Rights,’” with the subheadings: “The New Contemporary NTS,” “All the secrets become clear” and so forth.
So off it went—Soviet “glasnost” in full cry, from newspaper to newspaper, with references to one another, each more trenchant than the last. The campaign lasted half a year, alongside which the KGB trashed the editorial offices of independent publications, beat up the staff, and wrecked equipment.
Literaturnaya gazeta (23 March 1988) was first off the starting line, in the person of its New York “correspondent” Iona Andronov, who wrote the lengthy article “Pawns in Someone Else’s Game.” I put “correspondent” in quotes because his cooperation with the KGB was already well known, and now I found documents confirming this cooperation from at least May 1972, when he was the New York correspondent for the chekist journal Novoye vremya (27 January 1972, St 28/11). Either he had been in too much of a hurry with the article or he was too keen to boast of his luck, but it emerged that it was he who inspired the whole measure, and he may have even edited the article by the two “concerned” American authors:
I learned the secret and the truth about the New York editors of the faux Glasnost from a local journalist, Kevin Coogan. He interested me earlier with the inside story of the new anti-Soviet journal and unearthed some semiconfidential information about it. In this respect he worked together with a staff member of the liberal weekly Nation, Katrina vanden Heuvel. Their joint article for “Nation” is already typeset, but meanwhile Coogan agreed to share his information with Literaturnaya gazeta. …
A whole history unrolled. The authors refuted the text and protested against the “use of their article to the detriment of dissidents,” even though they did not deny contacts with Andronov, nor that he had seen their article prior to its publication, almost in draft form. Even the New York Times came to our defense,141 to say nothing of more friendly publications, which printed indignant responses by dissidents.142 But what was the use? The money was lost in any case.
In this respect, America is an amazing country. On the one hand, publishing slander is recognized as the sacred right of the press, protected by the First Amendment to the Constitution of the USA. On the other hand, America is a country of extreme conformists, where any criticism in the press, even if it is genuinely slanderous, renders a person unacceptable, especially when it comes to the receipt of public funds—“too controversial,” as they say in such cases. Note that it is the victim of slander who becomes “controversial” and not the slanderer. It is not surprising that this is widely used by all kinds of leftist rabble: it appears that money cannot be received without their approval.
In any event, we were already hanging by a thread, and our pitiful aid to dissidents was a fly in the ointment of the leftist establishment. Then the perfect excuse cropped up: we had become “too controversial.”
So what was to be done? Armed with the bitter experience of my “killing” of Jessica Savitch in the journal Novoye vremya, I did not try to achieve anything in an American court. But due to the fact that a tiny part of the Nation print run (no more than one hundred copies) was distributed in England, I tried to take them to court there.
My God, what incredible excuses were thought up by the “respondents” to prevent the case from coming to court, to drag it out, delay submission of papers. I shall not weary the reader by listing them all—suffice it to say that the matter dragged on for more than five years, passing from one authority to another. The action was terminated quite recently by… the House of Lords, no less, as the respondents complained about the excessive length of the proceedings.
I had the pleasure of reading their petition—it was a masterpiece of cynical and brazen lies: Oh, they wrote, we are suffering such nervous tension after waiting for the hearing for five years. We do not even recall all the details of the matter—it would be unfair to try us now under oath. Moreover, everything has changed, there is no more USSR and no more KGB. What is there to dispute? Why dig up the past?
So I was unable to make them answer before the law, or even receive an apology. I could not even spit in the eyes of this human trash. If you ever meet one of them by chance, please do it for me.
What else do I have to hope for at the end of this too-long chapter, and my life into the bargain, apart from wishing to spit in the eyes of all these evil spirits—be they in the East or in the West,—that deprived my life of meaning, and deprived the world of recovery? Rejoice now in the work of your hands, rejoice in how ably you fooled everyone. I say everyone, because you fooled yourselves as well. It is unlikely that you will be comfortable in this decomposing world that is drowning in lies, for even a thief only really feels safe when surrounded by honest people, as does a liar among the truthful; otherwise we shall have to steal from one another and fool one another. What sense is there in that, what gain?
Yet everything could have been so different had people possessed just a grain of conscience—no, this is something for which I dare not hope—but at least a drop of farsightedness, just a tiny measure of calculation beyond momentary triumph. It would seem that we should possess this ability, we who walk erect on two legs and differ from our closest kinsmen who, finding a handful of seeds, stuff it in their mouths immediately and are ever so happy that their stomachs stop rumbling. Our forefathers planted the seeds in the earth, watered them and endured hunger, but harvested tenfold. Is this not how our civilization began? And shall it not end with a complete unwillingness to think about the future for just one minute? However fantastic this may sound today, it is quite possible that we might, given such inclinations, wake up one day in a jungle, amid the ruins of our ancient temples, which have become home to screaming monkeys.
Rejoice, those who walk erect, at the onset of monkey civilization! No extra effort is needed, you don’t even need to wear pants: you can scamper around on all fours, flashing a bright red behind.
What can you expect from a macaque, you will say; its forehead is so small it could not hold a large thought. Not like the one Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev has, and with a birthmark as well, a Socrates, no less. And is he content now, with a forehead like that and with a Nobel Prize, to walk on his feet? Yet what cunning he possessed, what intrigues he wove—the mind boggles. Just one more day, but in power, even on the edge, but still on the throne. He managed to outsmart everybody, and only the servants remained. And then—oops!—the servants snookered him. There is nobody to blame; he made the choice, he promoted those who were the most treacherous, stamped on those who were more honest, spun his schemes and finally became entangled in them.
And what about our intelligentsia? You can’t help but spit in disgust. God did not shortchange them with foreheads—oh, what foreheads you can see in Russia! Nurtured over hundreds of years. And still to no avail: they spun in circles, fidgeted this way and that, guessing which side to approach in order to get the best bit of the pie, to grab it so that it seemed uneaten. All that filled their big foreheads and thoughts was how to elbow their way forward to the big, smelly trough. Then look—there is no pie, no trough. Emptiness. Now they sit in their cold apartments, feeding an iron stove with volumes of Lenin’s works. Only the blizzard outside wails un-fai-un-fai-airrrrr down the chimney….
Gogol was right when he wrote nearly one hundred years ago: wherever you look, nothing but snouts in the trough on all sides. What could I do if this situation had not improved in a hundred years? In all honesty I can say that if you gave me a second or third life, I would be unable to do anything, because I would not seek victory, I would come to understand too soon:143
“Poor country, in which simple honesty is seen as heroism at best, and at worst as a mental disorder, for in such a country the earth will not yield a harvest. Woe to that people that has lost a sense of dignity, for its children shall be born monsters. And if in that country, among its people, there shall be at least a handful, even one, willing to take upon himself the common sin, the wind shall never return to its quarters.”
Oh, Russia…. I admit that I, an old codger—having witnessed so much—also believed that it wasn’t the end yet. No, I told myself as I warmed the prison’s cement floor with my bones, just wait—let the horses toss their manes, grab the reins, throw your arms out wide and break into song, and—the versts will fly past until your eyes blur! Hooves flying, snow blinding—then the road will leap, and a frightened passer-by will let out a cry of fear.
What else was there to give warmth, if not such a vision? And there was a moment when the horses would seem to shudder and an unknown force would sweep you up on its wing and take you far, far away…. O, horses, horses, where are you? Where is that land that brooks no nonsense? Where is that jaunty people that birthed us to our misfortune? And the horses—are nags, and the coachman—is no coachman: no beard, no mittens, no yoke, no harness, he sits on the devil knows what, and instead of singing a rousing song, just moans:
I could do with some German jackboots.
Where are you, troika Russia? Do you still live? Answer me.
Silence.