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Rebel, prisoner, poet and hero: half a century since they were published, Solzhenitsyn’s searing accounts of Stalin’s labour camps remain among the most profound works of modern literature. Last summer, as his health began to fail, he looked back on his extraordinary life with Christian Neef and Matthias Schepp
In your book My
American Years, you recollect that you used to write even while
walking in the forest.
When I was in the gulag I would sometimes even write on stone walls. I
used to write on scraps of paper, then I memorised the contents and
destroyed the scraps. And your strength did not leave you even in
moments of desperation? Yes. I would often think: whatever the
outcome is going to be, let it be. And then things would turn out all
right. It looks like some good came out of it. All your life you
have called on the authorities to repent for the millions of victims of
the gulag and communist terror. Was this call really heard? I have
grown used to the fact that public repentance is the most unacceptable
option for the modern politician. Putin [then President] says the
collapse of the Soviet Union was the largest geopolitical disaster of
the 20th century and that it is high time to stop this masochistic
brooding over the past. Does this not just help those who want people to
forget everything that took place during the country’s Soviet past? Well,
there is growing concern all over the world as to how the USA will
handle its new role as the world’s only superpower, which it became as
a result of geopolitical changes. As for "brooding over the
past", alas, that conflation of "Soviet" and
"Russian", against which I spoke so often in the 1970s, has
not passed away in the West, or in the ex-socialist countries, or in the
former Soviet republics. The older political generation in communist
countries was not ready for repentance, while the new generation is only
too happy to voice grievances and level accusations, with present-day
Moscow a convenient target. They behave as if they heroically liberated
themselves and lead a new life now, while Moscow has remained communist.
Nevertheless, I dare hope that this unhealthy phase will soon be over,
that all people who have lived through communism will understand that
communism is to blame for the bitter pages of their history. To
accept one’s guilt presupposes that one has enough information about
one’s own past. However, historians are complaining that Moscow’s
archives are not as accessible now as they were in the 1990s. It’s
a complicated issue. There is no doubt, however, that a revolution in
archives took place in Russia over the past 20 years. Thousands of files
have been opened; the researchers now have access to thousands of
previously classified documents. Hundreds of monographs that make these
documents public have already been published or are in preparation.
Alongside the declassified documents of the 1990s, there were many
others published which never went through the declassification process.
Dmitri Volkogonov, the military historian, and Alexander Yakovlev, the
ex-member of the Politburo, these people had enough influence and
authority to get access to any files, and society is grateful to them
for their valuable publications. As for the last few years, no one has
been able to bypass the declassification procedure. Unfortunately, this
procedure takes longer than one would like. Nevertheless the files of
the country’s most important archives, the National Archives of the
Russian Federation [GARF], are as accessible now as in the 1990s. The
FSB sent 100,000 criminal-investigation materials to GARF in the late
1990s. About 90 years ago, Russia was shaken first by the
February Revolution and then by the October Revolution. These events run
like a leitmotif through your works. A few months ago you reiterated
your thesis: Communism was not the result of the previous Russian
political regime; the Bolshevik Revolution was made possible only by
Kerensky’s poor governance in 1917. If one follows this line of
thinking, then Lenin was only an accidental person, who was only able to
come to Russia and seize power here with German support. Have we
understood you correctly? No. Only an extraordinary person can
turn opportunity into reality. Lenin and Trotsky were exceptionally
nimble and vigorous politicians who managed in a short time to use the
weakness of Kerensky’s government. But allow me to correct you: the
"October Revolution" is a myth generated by the winners, the
Bolsheviks, and swallowed whole by progressive circles in the West. On
25 October 1917, a violent 24-hour coup d'`E9tat took place in
Petrograd. It was brilliantly and thoroughly planned by Leon Trotsky —
Lenin was in hiding to avoid being brought to justice for treason. What
we call "the Russian Revolution of 1917" was the February
Revolution. The reasons driving this revolution do indeed have their
source in Russia’s pre-revolutionary condition, and I have never
stated otherwise. The February Revolution had deep roots — I have
shown that in The Red Wheel. First among these was the long-term mutual
distrust between those in power and the educated society, a bitter
distrust that rendered impossible any constructive solutions for the
state. So you may indeed say that the February Revolution in its causes
was "the results of the previous Russian political regime".
But this does not mean that Lenin was "an accidental person"
by any means; or that the financial participation of Emperor Wilhelm was
inconsequential. There was nothing natural for Russia in the October
Revolution. Rather, the revolution broke Russia’s back. Recently,
relations between Russia and the West have got somewhat colder. What is
the reason? The most interesting [reasons] are psychological,
i.e., the clash of illusory hopes against reality. This happened both in
Russia and in West. When I returned to Russia in 1994, the Western world
and its states were practically being worshipped. This was caused not so
much by real knowledge or a conscious choice, but by disgust with the
Bolshevik regime and its anti-Western propaganda. This mood started
changing with the cruel Nato bombings of Serbia. All layers of Russian
society were deeply and indelibly shocked by those bombings. The
situation then became worse when Nato started to spread its influence
and draw the ex-Soviet republics into its structure. So, the
perception of the West as mostly a "knight of democracy" has
been replaced with the disappointed belief that pragmatism, often
cynical and selfish, lies at the core of Western policies. For many
Russians it was a grave disillusion, a crushing of ideals. At the same
time, the West was enjoying its victory after the Cold War, and
observing the 15-year-long anarchy under Gorbachev and Yeltsin. It was
easy to get accustomed to the idea that Russia had become almost a third
world country and would remain so. When Russia started to regain some of
its strength, the West's reaction – perhaps subconscious, based on
erstwhile fears – was panic. What is, in your opinion, the
situation in Russian literature today? Periods of rapid and
fundamental change were never favourable for literature. Significant
works, have nearly always and everywhere been created in periods of
stability, be it good or bad. Modern Russian literature is no exception.
The educated reader today is much more interested in non-fiction.
However, I believe that justice and conscience will not be cast to the
four winds, but will remain in the foundations of Russian literature, so
that it may be of service in brightening our spirit and enhancing our
comprehension.
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