Canadian Slavonic Papers / Revue canadienne des slavistes Vol. LIII, Nos. 2–3–4,...

Canadian Slavonic Papers / Revue canadienne des slavistes Vol. LIII, Nos. 2–3–4, June-September-December 2011 / juin-septembre-décembre 2011

Ben A. McVicker

The Creation and Transformation of a Cultural Icon: Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn in Post-Soviet Russia, 1994–2008

ABSTRACT: Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s return to Russia in 1994, twenty years after his exile from the Soviet Union, was regarded by many as one of the most symbolic events of the immediate post-Cold War era. Arguably the most famous dissident of the Soviet period was returning to his native land, where communism had at last disintegrated and given way to a transitional-democratic regime.

However, despite receiving a prophet’s welcome upon his arrival, Solzhenitsyn showed nothing but contempt for the Russian government’s efforts to stabilize the country amid economic and political turmoil. Within eighteen months, Solzhenitsyn had squandered any moral sway he might have held, and had been reduced to an out-of-touch curmudgeon and object of satire amid the Russian populace.

Ten years later, however, Solzhenitsyn’s name and works had been given a new relevance and popular appeal, in light of a government-led effort to restructure his persona for a new generation of citizens. The long-term process through which the Russian government has accomplished this is the focus of this article.

On 6 August 2008 a mix of pensioners and politicians gathered at the Donskoi Monastery to bid farewell to one of Russia’s most famous personalities of the post-Stalin era. A former Marxist, a veteran, and a dissident, Aleksandr Isaevich Solzhenitsyn was to be laid to rest. A man whose self-declared role in his native land was that of a literary artist, his prevailing image at the time of his death was instead that of a political icon.

“He was a great, otherworldly figure [...] [and] I fought with him as one would with the kind of father one rebels against,” wrote Eduard Limonov in a moment of reflection. “He was cold, unpleasant, and dogmatic, like a political instructor. He did not give us any Raskol'nikov, he did not give us a Vronskii, nor did he give us a Bazarov. Instead, he gave us himself and his [...] entirely conservative, idealistic, and completely unrealistic plan for Russia.”1

Limonov, born in 1943, spoke for many of his countrymen with these editorial remarks, penned one week after Solzhenitsyn’s funeral. The 1917 revolutions held a markedly different place in history for Limonov’s generation and those after him, than they had for Solzhenitsyn, and the funeral itself seemed to affirm the writer’s mixed legacy in his native Russia. Solzhenitsyn was laid to rest beside the great nineteenth-century historian Vasilii Kliuchevskii

1 Eduard Limonov, “Ia i Solzhenitsyn,” Grani.Ru 13 August 2008: <http://www.grani.ru/

opinion/limonov/m.139949.html> (Accessed 29 July 2011).

306 BEN A. MCVICKER against a backdrop of overcast, drizzling skies, as hundreds arrived to pay their respects. A sombre spectacle, the ceremony was equally as impressive for what it was not: while thousands had queued outside the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour to bid farewell to President Boris Yeltsin, only a few hundred citizens felt obliged to do the same upon Solzhenitsyn’s death.2 History, it seemed, had passed him by.

With death, however, comes the opportunity for interpretation, retrospection and revision, and this point has not been lost upon the Russian government. The choice of Kliuchevskii as a neighbouring grave was not without its irony, in light of Solzhenitsyn’s poorly-regarded foray into Russian history in the later stages of his career. But it was perhaps indicative of how the administrations of Presidents Vladimir Putin and Dmitrii Medvedev have aimed to reinvent Solzhenitsyn for future generations: in spite of the Donskoi Monastery being the resting place of such artistic figures as Isaac Babel, Nikolai Erdman and Sergei Tretiakov, he was buried alongside an historian in a nod to his latter day persona.

The mixed nature of Solzhenitsyn’s legacy was evident in the diversity of commentaries on the writer’s passing. A statement by Russian President Dmitrii Medvedev’s office called Solzhenitsyn “the country’s conscience [...] an embodiment of internal freedom and dignity [...] whose books and life served as moral guidelines for the nation.”3 Vladimir Zhirinovskii, the leader of the misnamed Liberal Democratic Party of Russia (LDPR), spoke at length of Solzhenitsyn’s literary achievements—a surprising, uncharacteristic departure from his trademark bombast and nationalist hyperbole. Solzhenitsyn “was our greatest writer of the twentieth century,” stated Zhirinovskii in an August 4 interview. “If Lenin at the time characterized Tolstoi as a mirror of the Russian Revolution, then Solzhenitsyn was a mirror of the Soviet Union’s later stage of development from 1945 to 1991. He captured it in its entirety.”4

The most surprising comments, however, came from the Russian NGO Memorial, which issued a press release that spoke at length of Solzhenitsyn’s political significance, praising him as “an uncompromising fighter for the freedom of the individual,” and “a strong and original political thinker,” whose “intellectual legacy” will endure for as long as the intelligentsia itself.5 The

2 Tony Halpin, “Russians Brave Rain to Pay Last Respects to Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn,”

The Times Online (UK) 5 August 2008: <http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/ world/europe/article4464764.ece> (Accessed 1 October 2011). 3 Cited in “Russians Pay Last Respects to Solzhenitsyn,” RIA Novosti 5 August 2008:

<http://en.rian.ru/russia/20080805/115762667.html> (Accessed 1 October 2011). 4 Cited in “Zhirinovskii: Solzhenitsyn byl zerkalom zakata SSSR,” Vesti.ru 4 August

2008: <http://www.vesti.ru/doc.html?id=198570> (Accessed 1 October 2011). 5 “Skonchalsia Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn: Ot Obshchestva ‘Memorial,’” Memorial 4

August 2008: <http://www.memo.ru/2008/08/05/sol.htm> (Accessed 29 July 2011).

ALEKSANDR SOLZHENITSYN IN POST-SOVIET RUSSIA, 1994–2008 307


obituary gives an entirely political portrait of Solzhenitsyn. His 1967 Pis'mo IV Vsesoiuznomu s''ezdu Soiuza sovetskikh pisatelei [Letter to the Congress of Soviet Writers] receives due attention, as does 1974’s Iz-pod glyb [From Under the Rubble]. The bulk of the commentary is devoted to Solzhenitsyn’s “experiment in literary investigation,” Arkhipelag GULAG [The Gulag Archipelago], and its place in Russian history. Solzhenitsyn’s seminal work, Odin den' iz zhizni Ivana Denisovicha [One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich], however, goes unacknowledged in spite of its great historical significance. The same is true of his well-regarded novels, Rakovyi korpus [Cancer Ward] and V kruge pervom [The First Circle], and Solzhenitsyn’s self-proclaimed magnum opus, Krasnoe Koleso [The Red Wheel].

Memorial’s omission of The Red Wheel was arguably as striking as the absence of Denisovich. A literary re-imagining of the events leading to the February Revolution of 1917, wherein the feeble-minded Tsar Nicholas II and his critics fail to recognize Prime Minister Petr Stolypin as the potential saviour of the Russian state, Solzhenitsyn considered it his life’s work, written over the course of more than twenty years and numbering 6,000 pages in length. That it went largely unread at home and abroad should not obscure this crucial point in Solzhenitsyn’s biography. Yet Memorial chose to emphasize his relevance for the organization’s stated goal of “creating a new national historical consciousness, an alternative to the [...] falsifications [...] of Soviet history,” casting Solzhenitsyn in a purely dissident, as opposed to artistic, light.6 The different frameworks through which Russian political actors endeavoured to reintegrate Solzhenitsyn with Russian culture from 1988 to 2008, in an effort to contextualize the Soviet era for future generations, are the focus of this article.

It was on 1 August 1988 that Solzhenitsyn and his wife Natalia Dmitrievna received a telegram from one Sergei Zalygin in Moscow. An outspoken critic of Soviet environmental projects7 and the first non-party member to act as editor-in-chief of the journal Novyi Mir, Zalygin had written to ask their permission to publish Cancer Ward and The First Circle in the Soviet Union. Zalygin had previously overseen the publication of works by Iosif Brodskii and Boris Pasternak, and was a prominent voice in perestroika with regard to the reintroduction of banned texts to Soviet society.

However, before the Solzhenitsyns had due time to consider this gesture from the Soviet authorities, they were greeted with another unexpected communication from abroad, this time in the form of two hand-written letters from General Secretary Mikhail Gorbachev. Frank and plainly tailored to complement the themes of perestroika, Gorbachev openly invited Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn to return to the Soviet Union. The writer would be “welcomed with

6 “Skonchalsia Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn: Ot Obshchestva ‘Memorial.’”

7 See Kristian Gerner and Stefan Hedlund, Ideology and Rationality in the Soviet Model:

A Legacy for Gorbachev (London: Routledge, 1989) 340, 363–364.

308 BEN A. MCVICKER open arms,” upon his arrival, after which “all [of] his books [would] be printed, without fail [...] and a written contract would be agreed upon [...] for residency in Moscow.”8

Solzhenitsyn did not reply to Gorbachev’s proposal, likely out of cynicism toward and distrust of Marxist ideology and Soviet political actors. Natalia Solzhenitsyna confirmed as much in a diary entry shortly thereafter. “Who is this letter and proposed visit really needed for?” she asked. “Only Gorbachev himself. To create a showpiece and say that Solzhenitsyn supports perestroika—which, so far, has proven to be a myth.”9 Indeed, Solzhenitsyn found nothing progressive in Gorbachev’s reforms, regarding them as neither innovative nor profound in their conception. Rather, they legitimized a number of previously covert cultural phenomena such as samizdat in an effort to blend them with government policy.10 Forever sceptical of the system’s ability to reform itself, the Solzhenitsyns stated that if they were to return, “the prerequisite [would] be that the Archipelago be printed in the Soviet Union [...] [this] [would] be the test for Gorbachev’s glasnost'.”11

Solzhenitsyn’s indifference and even contempt toward the Politburo’s efforts to make amends for the misdeeds of its predecessors was surely a source of great aggravation for Gorbachev. His efforts to welcome back Solzhenitsyn led to criticism and jeers from those opposed to perestroika. When, in October 1988, Novyi Mir announced that it would heed Solzhenitsyn’s demands and publish The Gulag Archipelago in the new year, the conservative faction of the Politburo lashed out. “I am against the publication of a series of Solzhenitsyn’s works,” declared chief ideologist, Vadim Medvedev. “Such works as The Gulag Archipelago and Lenin in Zurich […] are in fundamental contradiction to our social and political order […] to publish Solzhenitsyn [...] is to undermine the foundations on which present life exists.”12

By the dawn of the new year, Gorbachev’s courting of Solzhenitsyn had so backfired that he was left with few options but to explore further concessions if he truly valued the writer’s endorsement of perestroika. Even members of the Soviet gerontocracy such as Vladimir Semichastnyi had latched on to the issue, with the former head of the KGB sneeringly observing that “Solzhenitsyn is our enemy, Solzhenitsyn is an incorrigible anti-Soviet [...] and now, thanks to the agitprop of perestroika, we have a third battle-cry: ‘Solzhenitsyn is against

8 Liudmila Saraskina, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn (Moscow: Molodaia Gvardiia, 2008) 791.

9 Cited in Saraskina 791.

10 For a thorough study of this theory, see Aleksandr Zinoviev, Katastroika: The Legend

and Reality of Gorbachevism (London: Claridge Press, 1989). 11

Saraskina 791. 12

As cited in Felicity Barringer, “Kremlin Keeping Solzhenitsyn on the Blacklist,” The New York Times 30 November 1988: <http://www.nytimes.com/1988/11/30/world/ kremlin-keeping-solzhenitsyn-on-blacklist.html> (Accessed 1 October 2011).



perestroika! [...] They need to grind ‘monarchist,’ ‘theocrat,’ and ‘zealot’ from his image, but will be helpless to do so.”13 To allow such comments as Semichastnyi’s and Medvedev’s to resonate in political discourse would have constituted a great defeat for Gorbachev. To remain silent on the matter was to appear weak and indecisive in his pursuit of reforms. And both of these options would undermine his credibility with the West. Unable to accept such incongruence in government discourse, the rehabilitation of Solzhenitsyn became a necessary action for Gorbachev to take if perestroika was to maintain its global legitimacy.14

Abandoning such gradualist tactics as courting the man with handwritten correspondence, Gorbachev took decisive action on the issue soon after Semichastnyi’s mockery of his reform agenda. He pushed the Writers’ Union to overturn the author’s expulsion in a symbolic gesture to illustrate the changing cultural landscape of the Soviet Union. Mere weeks after Solzhenitsyn’s membership was restored—his suspension deemed “incorrect and at variance with the principles of social democratism”15—Novyi Mir and Literaturnaia gazeta announced that The Gulag Archipelago would be published in successive issues beginning August 1989, with an expected circulation of 1.6 million copies.16 Such an event had been unthinkable at the dawn of perestroika in 1987.

The publication of Archipelago was a momentous event in the political and cultural maturation of the Soviet Union, with multiple implications for society. It was received with great enthusiasm, mostly-positive evaluations, and a touch of irony in that the number of letters Novyi Mir received was the greatest since One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich graced its pages in November 1962.17 Solzhenitsyn himself is said to have “recoiled in happiness” upon reading the news, half-jokingly commenting that, “the Chekists will have to send squadrons to retrieve these 1.6 million copies.”18 Indeed, one could argue that the publication of Archipelago represented the peak of Gorbachev’s campaign to

13

Barringer, “Kremlin Keeping Solzhenitsyn on the Blacklist.” Semichastnyi gave this statement in February 1989. 14

Ben McVicker, “The Politicization of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn During Perestroika,” in Perestroika: Processes and Consequences, edited by Markku Kangaspuro (Helsinki: Finnish Literature Society, 2010) 217. 15

“The Decision to Expel Solzhenitsyn Has Been Rescinded,” Literaturnaia gazeta 5 July 1989: 1, in The Current Digest of the Soviet Press 41.47 (1989): 21. 16

Saraskina 798. 17

As cited in Kerstin Olofsson, “The Cultural Debate on Abolishing Censorship,” in Russian Reports: Studies in Post-Communist Transformation of Media and Journalism, edited by Jan Ekecrantz and Kerstin Olofsson (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 2000) 35. 18

Saraskina 798–799.

310 BEN A. MCVICKER abolish censorship and promote open discussion of a troubled past among Soviet citizens. It was an exemplary instance of literature’s capability to function as a moral voice for society, just as Solzhenitsyn had once demanded in his 1967 “Letter to the Fourth Congress of Soviet Writers.”

Fifteen years’ exile, however, had sown loftier ambitions within Solzhenitsyn: he saw in glasnost' an opportunity to increase his political sway over the Soviet leadership, to finish writing The Red Wheel, and to allow Soviet readers ample time to digest his works. This arrogant logic had a far-fetched reasoning about it: a stunning seven million copies of his books were sold in 1990 alone, leading Novyi Mir to declare it the “Year of Solzhenitsyn.”19 This public enthusiasm for Solzhenitsyn’s work and the demand for his return to Russia would persist for years, despite his steadfast refusal to partake in any action that might legitimize perestroika. In the months following the collapse of the Soviet Union, an editorial in Izvestiia lauded the former dissident as a “spiritual father” of “incorruptible conscience” and “[the] only such person remain[ing] after [Andrei] Sakharov.” “Russia will be unable to live without moral authorities, without great people to act as unifiers,” the article continued. “Who is better suited for this mission than Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn?”20

Despite Solzhenitsyn’s arrogance and deafness to public opinion, the Gorbachev Politburo continued its efforts to integrate him into the revised cultural mosaic of the early 1990s, endeavouring to make use of his celebrity to further its own political agenda. As if to underscore the political significance that Solzhenitsyn might enjoy were he to return to the Soviet Union, a new work by the author was published in September 1990. Kak nam obustroit' Rossiiu [Rebuilding Russia], a political pamphlet reflecting upon the ongoing disintegration of the Soviet state, was printed in a variety of journals, primarily Literaturnaia gazeta and Komsomol'skaia pravda.21 Stamped with the affordable price tag of a mere three kopecks and circulated in 25 million copies, Rebuilding Russia was nothing less than a full-scale political program to remould the country in accordance with Solzhenitsyn’s political and historical vision, for lack of a coherent government alternative.22 With characteristic

19

Sergei Zalygin, “God Solzhenitsyna,” Novyi Mir 1 (1990): 233–240. 20

Stanislav Kondrashov, “The Primacy of Conscience,” Izvestiia 8 September 1992: 3, in The Current Digest of the Soviet Press 44.35 (1992): 13. 21

The English title does not properly convey the implication of the Russian, Kak nam obustroit' Rossiiu? [How Should We Reconstitute Russia?]. This is significant, in that obustroit' implies not so much a process of “rebuilding” but one of “rearranging” or “reconstituting,” i.e., a changing of political makeups based on existing models, rather than a complete revision. 22

John B. Dunlop, “Russian Reactions to Solzhenitsyn’s Brochure,” Report on the USSR 14 December 1990: 4.



stubbornness, Solzhenitsyn ignored the voices of Soviet reformers, and offered his own home-grown vision of Russian independence instead.

The pamphlet itself read as if Solzhenitsyn’s years composing The Red Wheel had blurred his everyday thought, for his solutions to the crisis facing Russia in 1990 were rooted in the Tsarist past. Attacking the Leninist motto of “All power to the Soviets!” as a fallacious slogan with no grounding in reality, Solzhenitsyn promoted the zemstvo, an organ of local self-administration conceived under Tsar Alexander II, as the most logical basis for reinvention of the Russian political apparatus.23 Other aspects of his thinking remained preoccupied with the widespread hypocrisy and injustice of Soviet politics, with the writer charging that, “of every four troubadours of today’s glasnost', three are former toadies of Brezhnevism.”24 The bulk of Solzhenitsyn’s proposals, however, appeared steeped in a classical tsarist authoritarianism. Rebuilding Russia categorically rejected democratic principles as “the triumph of bare quantity over substance and quality,” stating that “party rivalry distorts the national will,” and placing greater priority on political stability than human rights.25 Were these the words of a moral successor to the recently-deceased Andrei Sakharov? Or were they the reflections of an historic figure who had outlived his era? Whatever the answer, Russian citizens were left to debate it among themselves. Solzhenitsyn would not see fit to return to his native land until four years later.

Initially in a state of euphoria following the August 1991 coup that failed to re-establish a conservative Soviet regime, Solzhenitsyn began a written correspondence with the victorious Boris Yeltsin and his team of reformers in what seemed like a new degree of a genuine reconciliation between the writer and the state.26 “The future of Russia was putty in his hands, liable to be shaped and re-shaped by the minute, by the hour,” the writer mused, contemplating Yeltsin’s role in a diary entry dated August 22. “And he was able to seize the ministries and the property [White House] quickly and unopposed, clearing the way for a bright future.”27 Yeltsin, likewise, had high hopes of starting a constructive dialogue with Solzhenitsyn. In contrast to Gorbachev, who dismissed Rebuilding Russia’s proposals as “far removed from reality,” Yeltsin had the pamphlet photocopied and circulated among deputies of the RSFSR, expressing particular interest in Solzhenitsyn’s proposal of a Slavic union with

23

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Rebuilding Russia: Reflections and Tentative Proposals, translated by Yermolai Solzhenitsyn (London: Harvill, 1991) 85–87. 24

Solzhenitsyn, Rebuilding Russia 51–52. 25

Solzhenitsyn, Rebuilding Russia 66–67, 80, 54. 26

Saraskina 805. Solzhenitsyn’s first letter to Yeltsin was dated August 30, 1991. Yeltsin answered on September 17. 27

Cited in Saraskina 804.

312 BEN A. MCVICKER Ukraine, Belarus and Northern Kazakhstan.28 Yet despite this coincidence of Solzhenitsyn’s ideas with the Russian government’s vision for a new society, Solzhenitsyn saw fit to remain in Vermont. His wife and spokesperson Natalia offered the pretentious explanation that her husband would not return until “every simple man and woman in his motherland had the chance to read Gulag and The Red Wheel.”29

It was not until 27 June 1993 that the couple announced their intention to return to Russia the next summer.30 Having squandered three years’ worth of political capital in their native land, they embarked on a world tour of sorts in the fall of 1993. It was the stuff of grand celebrity, with Solzhenitsyn receiving an honorary doctorate in Lichtenstein, greeting crowds in Germany, Austria, and Italy, and culminating in an audience with Pope John Paul II. Russia’s Nobel Prize winner and perceived moral authority appeared to be preoccupied with establishing his place in history among the international community. Solzhenitsyn’s continued silence on the increasing economic and political turmoil in his native land, as Boris Yeltsin ordered tanks to open fire on the Russian White House, was the first in a string of events that would undermine his credibility among Russian citizens. “Where were you on October 3–4, 1993, Aleksandr Isaevich?” wrote Limonov, the following year. “Sleeping? Eating?”31

Arriving in Magadan, gateway to the infamous Kolyma region, on 27 May 1994, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn emerged from a small plane to give a short press conference. “I pay my respects to the soils of Kolyma, where hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of our compatriots are buried,” he began. “Today, amid the tumult of political change, those millions of victims are being forgotten, both by those whom the destruction did not touch, and, even more so, by those who perpetrated that destruction.”32 It was a striking blend of grandiose rhetoric and political symbolism as the writer set foot on his native land for the first time in 20 years. Shortly thereafter, he boarded a train and embarked on an emotional 55-day journey across the country, in an effort to absorb the realities of political transition for Russian citizens.

The pretension of Solzhenitsyn’s journey from east to west drew mixed reactions in the Russian press. Vitalii Tretiakov, editor-in-chief of Nezavisimaia gazeta hailed Solzhenitsyn’s decision as a work of genius. “There are so many meanings here, so many paradoxical and striking parallels and allusions [...] like

28

Dunlop 4. 29

Caryl Emerson, “The World of Alexander Solzhenitsyn,” in Alexander Solzhenitsyn, edited by Harold Bloom (Philadelphia: Chelsea House Publishers, 2001) 179. See also Saraskina 800, 814. 30

“Solzhenitsyn to Return to Russia in May 1994,” The New York Times 27 June 1993: 7. 31

Vitali Tretiakov, “Solzhenitsyn Returns to Russia After 20 Years,” Nezavisimaia gazeta 24 May 1994: 1, in The Current Digest of the Post-Soviet Press 46.22 (1994): 1. 32

Cited in Saraskina 817.



a knife slicing through butter, Aleksandr Isaevich will enter the body of his country [...] from two different directions: from the past, which no one understood better than he, and from the future, which no one sees better than he. Fantastic!”33 Others were less enthused, with one observer remarking that “It’s a good publicity stunt, starting from Vladivostok. He expects that bearded men will be standing at all the stations, greeting him with the strumming of balalaikas.”34

Solzhenitsyn’s lauded defender of the Russian political tradition, Petr Stolypin, in 1908, stated that “poverty” was “the worst of all slaveries.” Stolypin’s words, written in answer to a critical letter from Lev Tolstoi regarding the Prime Minister’s agrarian reforms, were a statement against the notion of “artificially emasculating” the Russian peasantry of their right to and desire of, property ownership.35 It was surely a brutal reality then, for Solzhenitsyn, as he embarked on his tour of the Russian countryside: in contrast to the idealized setting of “Matrenin dvor” [Matriona’s Home], Solzhenitsyn was, more often than not, greeted by small crowds of pensioners who had seen their guarantees of social security and political stability thrown into a state of ruin. The sudden imposition of privatization had led to the devastation of rural communities. As consumers flocked to cheaper, imported foodstuffs, Russian agricultural production declined to 36 percent of its 1990 levels in a mere seven years (1992–1999).36 The collapse in livestock holdings was particularly dire, falling at a greater rate than in the first seven years of Stalin’s collectivization.37

This was no doubt a shock to Solzhenitsyn, the Vermont recluse. The realities of the inequality, deprivation and indignity characteristic of the early 1990s were far removed from what he had envisioned, having watched the Soviet Union crumble from afar in the past 20 years. By the time of his arrival at the Yaroslavl railway station in Moscow, on 21 July, Solzhenitsyn had compiled a list of grievances that lambasted democrats and communists alike for what he regarded as an inexcusable, treasonous mismanagement of the political transition. Escorted and introduced by Moscow Mayor Iurii Luzhkov, Solzhenitsyn took his place at the rostrum and addressed the sizeable, murmuring crowd that had gathered in anticipation of his arrival. Greeted with applause, and cries of “Isaevich! Your place is among the deputies!”

33

Tretiakov 1. 34

Eduard Limonov, “He Wants a Royal Welcome, but History Has Passed Him by,” Nezavisimaia gazeta 31 May 1994: 7, in The Current Digest of the Post-Soviet Press 46.22 (1994): 3. 35

Cited in P. P. Velikii, “The Russian Countryside Under the New Challenges,” Sociological Research 47.6 (November-December 2008): 56. 36

David J. O’Brien, Valeriy Patsiorkovsky, and Stephen K. Wegren, “The Food Problem in Russian Agriculture,” Russian Analytical Digest 52 (December 2008): 2. 37

O’Brien, Patsiorkovsky, and Wegren 2.

314 BEN A. MCVICKER Solzhenitsyn gave a speech much like the others he had delivered time and time again during his trans-national journey: Russian democracy was a myth; the state was failing in its obligations to the people; two-thirds of Russian citizens lived in poverty; and the country was in a state of economic paralysis.38

Although its contents overlapped with his earlier monologues, Solzhenitsyn’s speech of 21 July was a unique one in that it was broadcast live across the nation by state-owned Ostankino Television. At 9:00 PM Moscow Standard Time, viewers tuned in to the evening news, eager to hear the former dissident’s comments. “I have become convinced since my arrival, as I have journeyed,” began Solzhenitsyn, “that Russia today is in the midst of a great, grievous calamity. There is groaning everywhere! Once again, the state is failing to meet its obligations to its citizens. No matter where you look—”39 Not four sentences in, the live broadcast was cut off due to the broadcaster’s alarm at Solzhenitsyn’s caustic rhetoric. Seven months after the opposition’s worrisome gains in the December 1993 elections, government strategists continued to exhibit a certain naivety in their assumptions about politics and mass media in the post-Soviet era. For the liberal forces in the Russian Duma, it was an early hint that Yeltsin’s efforts to recruit Solzhenitsyn to their cause could backfire just as Gorbachev’s had. The speech, meanwhile, was rebroadcast four hours later, in the more comfortable time slot of 1:00 AM Moscow Standard Time.

Solzhenitsyn’s inability to accept the hardships of post-Soviet Russia, and his tendency to lash out at perceived incompetence on the part of the state were surely of great concern to Boris Yeltsin. As Liudmila Saraskina, Solzhenitsyn’s biographer, has observed, the President found himself in an unenviable scenario. Yeltsin was “unable to publicly agree with Solzhenitsyn and lament the reality of widespread poverty,” as it would undermine his credibility and fuel support for an already-powerful Communist opposition. Secondly, the President could not simply disprove or remedy the nation-wide socio-economic crisis as Solzhenitsyn would have it, given the Russian state’s empty coffers. Most frustrating of all, there was the problem of Solzhenitsyn’s perception that government finances were “a non-issue” in the rebuilding of the state, secondary to a restructuring of moral values in Russia.40

These factors surely weighed upon the minds of Russian democrats as the summer drew to a close. In what could only be regarded with ill-anticipation by Yeltsin and his political allies, Solzhenitsyn was due to address the Duma, come October. Instead of a glowing endorsement from a prophet whose life encompassed the hardships of the twentieth century, they would be greeted by a

38

Andrei Kirillov and Viktor Vasenin, “From ‘The First Circle’ to His Own Circle,” Rossiiskaia gazeta 23 July 1994: 1, in The Current Digest of the Post-Soviet Press 46.29 (1994): 11–12. 39

Kirillov and Vasenin 12. 40

Saraskina 838.



cantankerous patriot with little understanding of political realities. The greatest irony in this looming catastrophe was that the resolution to invite Solzhenitsyn to the Duma, put forward by Deputy Stanislav Govorukhin, had initially failed, winning only 208 votes of a required 226. Were it not for the political instincts of Igor Bratishchev of the Communist party (!), who demanded that the matter be put to a roll-call vote, the resolution would have faded into obscurity. As a roll-call entailed a lack of anonymity on the part of the deputies, however, many were forced to reconsider their stance on the matter: to vote against Solzhenitsyn could be perceived as opposition to, or reservation toward, government policies of liberalization. Thus, the Communist Party of the Russian Federation (KPRF), in a telling sign that it was adapting to the strategy and nuance of post-Soviet politics, enabled Solzhenitsyn to address the Duma, with the final vote being 251 in favour, 11 opposed, and 10 abstentions.41

Solzhenitsyn’s address to the Russian Duma on 28 October 1994 was a defining moment of his time in post-Soviet Russia. Stationed behind a podium bearing the Russian coat of arms, Solzhenitsyn began his speech on a note of stubborn self-delusion. “Since the beginning of my work and for many years, I have read ad verbum the records of the four pre-revolutionary Dumas,” he stated. “Today, I consider you to be the fifth state Duma, continuing on the same path.”42 The writer went on to offer a de facto revision of twentieth-century history in his comments. Communism, Bolshevism, revolutions, democracy, the State, the Dumas, Stolypin, the zemstvos, the nomenklatura, and the Commonwealth of Independent States each feature in Solzhenitsyn’s overview of past and present problems. The term “Soviet Union” however, is virtually absent, save for a one-off mention likening it to the Yeltsin regime in its centralization of finances and neglect of the regions.43 The same is true of Vladimir Il'ich Lenin, the primary architect of the Soviet Union. His role in Solzhenitsyn’s speech is, literally and figuratively, just that, an architect: the man who drew Russia’s modern borders, which Yeltsin’s administration “thoughtlessly recognized [...] in 24 hours,” leaving millions of ethnic Russians stranded as minorities in newly-independent states.44

Blind to the realities of historical change, the majority of Solzhenitsyn’s speech was heated, rhetorical bluster that offered little in the way of potential

41

Elena Afanaseva, “Communists Enable Duma to Save Face Vis-a-Vis Solzhenitsyn,” Novaia ezhednevnaia gazeta 7 July 1994: 2, in The Current Digest of the Post-Soviet Press 46.27 (1994): 13. 42

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, “Rech' v gosudarstvennoi dume,” in Po minute v den' (Moscow: Argumenty i Fakty, 1995) 155. 43

Solzhenitsyn, “Rech' v gosudarstvennoi dume,” 165. 44

Solzhenitsyn, “Rech' v gosudarstvennoi dume,” 166. It is of some significance that Lenin himself is not portrayed as a mixed-breed foreigner in this instance, as was the case in the author’s Lenin v Tsiurikhe [Lenin in Zurich].

316 BEN A. MCVICKER remedies for the nation’s problems. Whether Solzhenitsyn spoke of the “maelstrom” of rampant crime (“Stolypin, in 1906, brought a swift halt to such chaos in just five months [...]”), of infiltration by foreign nationals and “counter-migrants,” or state officials’ “deafness to national folly,” (glukhota natsional'nogo bezumiia) his diatribe could hardly be considered constructive criticism.45

Having bludgeoned the Duma with these charges, drawing selective applause from members of the KPRF and LDPR, Solzhenitsyn put forward his own, prophetic vision of what political reform should entail in the years to come. The prevailing message was much the same as the one laid out in the author’s pamphlet, Rebuilding Russia, wherein he advocated a re-establishment of the nineteenth-century zemstvo as Russia pursued democratic reforms. Solzhenitsyn’s speech to parliament, however, abandoned the gradualism and even-headed approach of Rebuilding Russia. His already questionable logic of returning to a bygone system of authoritarian governance was blurred by anger and damaged patriotism after three months as a tourist in his native land. Indeed, Solzhenitsyn’s demands were now rife with xenophobia and even absurdity. “Zemskie sobory saved Russia in the seventeenth century, during the Time of Troubles,” he began. “They organized militias and expelled foreigners, cleansed Moscow and founded a strong state [...].”46 “In the United States or Switzerland,” continued Solzhenitsyn, “80–85% of all matters are decided by localized municipalities, independent of Washington [...] our zemstvos could work in just this manner.”47 The writer’s vision of a powerful state that would rid the nation of foreign blood, with a network of localized assemblies detached from Moscow, was surely confounding to his audience. Solzhenitsyn’s demand for a president who would govern with the authority of a Tsar through “vertical power,” coupled with his insistence that it was only through zemstvos that the “energy, intelligence, and strength” of the people could be realized, likely confounded his admirers.48

The Duma address was an unmitigated disaster for the writer, undermining his moral authority and so damaging his reputation that former KGB director Iurii Andropov would have been green with envy. Solzhenitsyn’s reckless 45

Solzhenitsyn, “Rech' v gosudarstvennoi dume,” 158, 167–168. 46

Solzhenitsyn, “Rech' v gosudarstvennoi dume,” 162. First convened under Ivan the Terrible in 1549, the zemskii sobor was an assembly of feudal estates, consisting of Boyars, clergy, merchants and townsfolk. Its function was largely confined to the symbolic approval of the tsar’s decisions. The organization was disbanded following the Romanov dynasty’s firm establishment of power in the 1680s. 47

Solzhenitsyn, “Rech' v gosudarstvennoi dume,” 163. That membership and voting privileges in the zemstvos had been disproportionately weighted in favour of the Russian nobility, or that they were administrative rather than legislative bodies, did not appear to affect Solzhenitsyn’s thinking on the matter. 48

Solzhenitsyn, “Rech' v gosudarstvennoi dume,” 163.



attacks on the liberal reformers a mere two years into their platform spurred feelings of sadness and even a betrayal among many in the audience. Alla Gerber of the Russia’s Choice Party, headed by former Prime Minister Egor Gaidar, spoke for much of her generation, reflecting on the author’s transformation from a literary and political icon to a curmudgeonly prophet.

Solzhenitsyn manuscripts were [...] an avalanche of truth about your own life; your nightmares, your bloody involvement in that life [...] the life that was given to us [...] as a hellish mixture of hatred and love for this land and this fate.

We awaited the great writer’s words [...] But in the few months that he has spent in this country [...] Solzhenitsyn has managed to learn and understand everything—all on the level of a TV correspondent. [...] I felt like crying after his speech [...]. We felt hurt, ashamed, sad [...] we bid farewell to our Solzhenitsyn. We wanted so badly to say: Aleksandr Isaevich, stop. [...] Talk to the people who began these reforms, too [...] Can it really please you to be applauded by the Zhirinovskyites and the Communists—the people who threw you out of the country?!49

Few were happy in the aftermath of Solzhenitsyn’s speech. Nationalists felt rejected and marginalized by his focus on the country’s moral and political decline since the 1860s. Social democrats were offended and disappointed by his disrespect toward them, and his ill-knowledge of the country’s problems. The Communists, who had ensured that Solzhenitsyn address the Duma by demanding a roll-call vote, maintained their long-held stance against the writer and gloated in light of their political victory.

Despite Solzhenitsyn having effectively torpedoed any chance he had of gaining political sway within the Duma, the Yeltsin administration continued to believe that he could play a positive role in the country’s renewal. While his voice had fallen on deaf ears in parliament, the Russian public could yet prove to be of a different mind. Thus, in the new year the writer was encouraged to take up a new medium in his push for spiritual and cultural renewal: television.

Debuting on ORT50 in April 1995, Vstrechi s Solzhenitsynym [Meetings with Solzhenitsyn] saw Solzhenitsyn invite a selection of guests to his study to discuss the challenges facing Russia in the post-Soviet age. As per his request, the writer was awarded the time bracket of 9:40 PM, airing directly after the nightly news so as to maximize viewership. When Solzhenitsyn complained to 49

Cited in “Solzhenitsyn’s Speech to Duma Gets Mixed Reaction,” Moskovskiy Komsomolets 2 November 1994: 3, in The Current Digest of the Post-Soviet Press 46.45 (1994) 13. 50

Obshchestvennoe Rossiiskoe Televidenie, or Channel One (mid-1990s–2001). Now called Pervyi Kanal, ORT was and remains the most prosperous of Russian television networks. During the period of Solzhenitsyn’s on-air tenure, its majority shareholder was the oligarch Boris Berezovskii; today, the channel is largely regarded as a mouthpiece for the Russian government, with Berezovskii having been pressured into selling his shares in the company following the ascension of Vladimir Putin to the presidency.

318 BEN A. MCVICKER Sergei Blagovolin, head of the public broadcaster, that he did not have enough on-air time, the length of the program was increased from 15 to 20 minutes. Yeltsin’s office and select members of parliament were even reputed to ask for transcripts of the program on occasion.51

Despite the government’s best efforts to accommodate Solzhenitsyn and present him to a bi-weekly audience, the program quickly fell under criticism. Alessandra Stanley, then co-chief of the New York Times’ Moscow bureau, observed that the interviews were better described as “dueling monologues,” wherein Solzhenitsyn (“a cross between Charlie Rose and Moses”) berated his guests with rhetorical observations on Russia’s decay in the post-Soviet age.52 This problem was short-lived, however, as Solzhenitsyn quickly tired of his guests’ dissension and got rid of them altogether. Iurii Afanas'ev, then rector of the Russian State University for the Humanities, lamented the former dissident’s latest venture. “Solzhenitsyn came here with the clear intention of playing the role of a moralist, with the demeanour of a teacher,” he observed. “But with each passing day, his greatness is melting. If you are a writer, then write books. But don’t meddle in television.”53

Meetings with Solzhenitsyn ran for six months before being cancelled due to low ratings; a collection of transcripts from the show was published at the end of the year under the title Po minute v den' [A Minute a Day]. A review of Solzhenitsyn’s television career gives an almost tragic portrait of the man. Delivered in a rambling, pedantic fashion, his monologues are tiresome and overwhelmingly negative, doling out angry, rhetorical questions and offering no solutions. To his credit, Solzhenitsyn revealed himself to be more attuned to the realities of contemporary events than he had been in October 1994. His editorial remarks covered a variety of topics, ranging from economic reform to the conflict in Chechnya, to the restructuring of primary education. Problematic, however, was his unswerving fixation on repentance as a prerequisite for the rebuilding of the post-Soviet state. The Russian populace had little interest in Solzhenitsyn’s monologues at a time when poverty and chaos were running rampant in society. Not even the country’s victory over Nazi Germany could escape his criticism. In an episode aired 15 May 1995, Solzhenitsyn offered viewers his reflections on the fiftieth anniversary of the Great Fatherland War, stating that it was a conflict that wrought “only victims,” with no victor.54 While not a novel interpretation of events, Solzhenitsyn attacked the war’s patriotic image and offered in its place the interpretation of a zek turned prophet. Many

51

Alessandra Stanley, “Now on Moscow TV, Heeere’s Aleksandr!” The New York Times 14 April 1995: A1. 52

Stanley A1. 53

Cited in Saraskina 846. 54

Solzhenitsyn, “Peredacha 3: K 50-letiiu Pobedy v sovetsko-germanskoi voine,” in Po minute v den' 19.



of his diatribes focused on cruel realities: the Politburo’s unpreparedness at the dawn of the war, the whitewashing of Soviet history and the modern Russian state’s abandonment of combat veterans.55 Even the outcome of the war was not enough to draw his praise, with the writer claiming that “Hitler was defeated by December 1944,” and that the decision to proceed to Berlin was taken only to establish the German Democratic Republic.56

Russian national pride, greatly wounded in light of the Soviet collapse and the widespread impoverishment that followed it, had no need of such stinging rhetoric. That these words came from the lips of a cultural icon aroused a particular sense of resentment and betrayal among Solzhenitsyn’s television audience and the general public alike. Meetings with Solzhenitsyn was cancelled with little fanfare, coinciding with the elimination of nine additional political programs, with the parliamentary elections of December 17 looming close on the horizon.57 In a sign of things to come, the decision was largely attributed to deputy chairman of ORT Boris Berezovskii and his growing influence over the station’s media content. Aleksandr Iakovlev, then chairman of the board, openly opposed the decision to drop Solzhenitsyn’s program.58

Whatever the motivation behind the show’s cancellation, be it low ratings or political manoeuvring, few people were mourning its demise with the possible exception of Natalia Solzhenitsyna, who charged that the authorities had singled out her husband for censorship just as they had 30 years earlier.59 A prevailing reality, however, was that the Solzhenitsyns had greatly overestimated public interest in national politics: in the summer preceding the cancellation of the program, an overwhelming 76% of Russian citizens could not name a single political party.60 Solzhenitsyn’s celebrity in and of itself was not enough to overcome viewers’ growing cynicism and indifference toward political reform amid the hardships of the 1990s. Particularly against the backdrop of the Chechen War—at this point nearing its first anniversary—viewers likely were increasingly turning to television for escapism, rather than

55

Solzhenitsyn, “Peredacha 3: K 50-letiiu Pobedy v sovetsko-germanskoi voine,” 21, 23. 56

Solzhenitsyn, “Peredacha 3: K 50-letiiu Pobedy v sovetsko-germanskoi voine,” 23. 57

Richard Boudreaux, “Russian TV Pulls the Plug on Solzhenitsyn’s Biting Talk Show,” The Los Angeles Times 26 September 1995: <http://articles.latimes.com/1995-09-26/news/mn-50166_1_talk-show> (Accessed 1 October 2011). 58

Laura Belin, “Is Berezovskii Running Russian Public TV?” OMRI Daily Digest 3 October 1995: <http://mojozone.org/text/OLD.NEWS/1995.10.04.txt%0D> (Accessed 2 October 2011). 59

Peter Ford, “Politics Vibrates on Russian Airwaves,” Christian Science Monitor 28 September 1995: <http://www.csmonitor.com/1995/0928/28051.html> (Accessed 1 October 2011). 60

Ellen Mickiewicz, Changing Channels: Television and the Struggle for Power in Russia (Durham: Duke University Press, 1999) 148.

320 BEN A. MCVICKER political analysis.61 Reactions toward the swift demise of Solzhenitsyn’s program in the local and international media varied from mocking to relieved. “Don’t let Solzhenitsyn near a microphone!” read an editorial in the Komsomol newspaper.62 “He’s dour. He’s dull. And now he’s off the air,” began another piece in the St Paul Pioneer Press.63 Even the New York Times offered little sympathy, bearing the headline, “Solzhenitsyn Silenced (By Low Ratings).”64

Armed with political and media endorsement, a receptive audience, and the body of his work circulating in publication, it took Solzhenitsyn only 18 months to squander the whole of this and retreat into obscurity. The author increasingly abstained from public life for the remainder of the decade, his latter-day personality the object of national satire. Reflecting on the public enthusiasm for the writer’s return to Russia years later, Tatiana Tolstaia, mused that the author had taken on a “quasi-mythical” status during his time abroad.

[He] came to be imagined rather like the ancient characters Koshchei the Immortal […] or Baba Yaga, a powerful old crone who lives in the forest behind a pike fence decorated with human skulls [...]. In Russia it was claimed that the Solzhenitsyn estate in the woods of Vermont was high and impenetrable, topped with barbed-wire snares, like a labor camp. It was whispered that the gates were guarded by vicious German shepherds that did not understand either English or Russian, but only Old Slavonic [...] in mythological terms, that is, the dogs responded only to certain magical formulas.65

Thus, by 1996 Solzhenitsyn had been deprived of political influence in his native land. Regarded by east and west alike as an out-of-touch demagogue, his position in many ways resembled what it had been in the aftermath of his Harvard Address in 1978, when the American public realized that his status as a Soviet dissident did not mean that he was a democratic reformer. The Russian public’s enthusiasm for Solzhenitsyn’s return on 27 May 1994 had been rooted in his condemnation of Soviet policies and contributions to national literature within a particular historical context. This mindset was consistent with the government’s ongoing rehabilitation of dissident personalities. Solzhenitsyn’s deluded, entirely political thinking, his unchecked nationalism and his calls for swift return to authoritarian governance did not fit the social trends of the Yeltsin era, with their fixation on western cultural and political models.

61

Mickiewicz 134. By chance, the cancellation of Solzhenitsyn’s program in the fall coincided with a scandal wherein it was discovered that the Yeltsin government had ordered the Russian military to undertake covert operations in Chechnya before the outbreak of the war. 62


“Solzhenitsyn’s Talk Show Kaput,” St Paul Pioneer Press 26 September 1995: 4A. 64

“Solzhenitsyn Silenced (By Low Ratings),” The New York Times 26 September 1995: A8. 65

Tatiana Tolstaia, Pushkin’s Children (Boston: Mariner Books, 2003) 62–63.



Crippled and demoralized, post-Soviet Russia failed to produce any national figures who inspired a sense of renewal or self-definition by the eve of the twenty-first century. In an effort to fill this void, the powers that be turned to nostalgia and revisionism. The campaign has continued to this day and has reinvented a number of personalities in the country’s history. A lyric from the Soviet-era anthem praising Joseph Stalin (“Stalin reared us—on loyalty to the people. He inspired us to labour and to heroism”) appeared in the bustling Kurskaia subway station,66 while Leonid Brezhnev was the subject of a flattering television miniseries in 2005.67 Even recent figures such as veterans of the 1979–1989 Afghan war have been awarded new significance for the Russian national character.68 The choice of Solzhenitsyn as a candidate is an interesting one, in light of his continued insistence that he was a writer, not a political actor. However, Solzhenitsyn’s thought and values were indisputably shaped by the formative experience of Stalinism, whether one speaks of his authoritarian sympathies, his wartime experience, or the Gulag. If the authorities were selective in which aspects of his personality received emphasis, they stood to have a powerful Russian icon at their disposal: Solzhenitsyn’s flexible patriotism, which denounced both the west and the Soviet Union alike, could be invoked according to political circumstance, and no one would dare question it in light of the man’s history as a Nobel prize winner and a survivor of the Gulag. That his artistic works garnered worldwide praise has only facilitated the Russian government’s efforts to integrate a Soviet-era man with an emerging post-Soviet culture.

The first noteworthy reappraisal of Solzhenitsyn’s place in Russian history was not the Duma’s initiative, but that of the director Aleksandr Sokurov (famous for Russkii kovcheg [Russian Ark]). Filmed in 1999, Uzel [The Knot] consists of 180 minutes of conversations, shot in an assortment of locales in and around the Solzhenitsyn residence in Troitse-Lykova. Sokurov takes on the roles of both interviewer and narrator, and wastes little time in putting forward his agenda. Following an overview of Solzhenitsyn’s distinctions throughout the Soviet era, Sokurov makes a striking assertion regarding the author’s universally-panned and largely unacknowledged Red Wheel saga:

In 1994, he finally achieved his goal [...] a book about the Russian Revolution. And what a book! Ten volumes [...]. The reality of the Revolution, extracted from non-existence. A book for the future.

66

Sophia Kishovsky, “Re-Stalinization of a Moscow Subway Station,’” The New York Times 27 August 2009: <http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/28/world/europe/28iht-moscow.html> (Accessed 2 October 2011). 67

Brezhnev, dir. Sergei Snezhkin (Slovo, Pervyi kanal, 2005). Perf. Sergei Shakurov, Artur Vakha. 68

9 Rota, dir. Fedor Bondarchuk (Art Pictures Studio, 2005). Perf. Artur Smolianinov.

322 BEN A. MCVICKER

Like many of his works, it went unread. Maybe people were afraid to look into their own dreary past. If they had read it, maybe they could have avoided their dreary future.69

That as respected a director as Sokurov would open a documentary with such a challenge to the public’s dismal reaction to the work is to say the least puzzling. Indeed, the Red Wheel had been “languish[ing], unpublished” in its native Russia despite having been complete for nearly four years, before making its way to bookshelves in 1994. Farrar, Straus & Giroux, meanwhile, expected to print “between 25,000 and 50,000 copies” of the English translation of November 1916, with Roger Straus adding, “I’d consider myself lucky to sell that many.”70 This is hardly indicative of greatness or future legacy.

Nonetheless, Sokurov appeals to viewers to reconsider and even repent for their treatment of Solzhenitsyn. “I don’t know about you, but I felt guilty [...] that we had nothing with which to receive him, to give him,” the director states as the opening credits roll. “In hard times [...] those who saw everything [...] did nothing to help. [...] I recall very well the general silence after [1974].”71 With archival footage of labour camps rolling in the background, Sokurov goes on to characterize Solzhenitsyn as a prophet for the coming century. “How strange,” mused Sokurov, “all the intelligentsia, wondering ‘what to do?’ [...] do not notice the very existence of their great compatriot who has already given his answers to many questions.”72

Sokurov appears sincere with his comments in The Knot, and to his credit the film reveals a very different man from the one who issued abrasive, bi-weekly sermons to a television audience just four years earlier. Solzhenitsyn appears to be in gentle voice, and accepting of Russia’s course in history. While he expresses sadness and disappointment on occasion, his mood is largely one of quiet reflection and even humour. He exhibits unending patience with Sokurov, who in spite of his credentials as a director proves to be woefully inept at conducting interviews. “Why does winter inspire a feeling of peace?” Sokurov asks quietly, as the pair walk through the forest. Solzhenitsyn, laughing at such naive pretension, answers, “that’s only if you’re not breaking ice with a shovel in -25 C!”73

The most notable aspect of Solzhenitsyn’s observations is the scarcity of references to politics. His reflections are devoid of comments about “toadies of Brezhnevism,” the zemskii sobor, and the experience of the Gulag. Instead, he

69

Uzel, dir., prod., narr., perf. Aleksandr Sokurov (Studio Nadezhda, 1999). 70

Cited in David Remnick, “The Exile: Solzhenitsyn in Vermont,” in Reporting (New York: Vintage Books, 2006) 186. 71

Uzel. 72

Uzel. 73

Uzel.



speaks mostly of the pre-revolutionary era and its relevance in post-Soviet Russia. Solzhenitsyn’s tale about how his grandfather “began as a farm worker [...] started an estate of 5400 acres [...] and became a producer of wool and corn,” complemented the nation’s rediscovery of the Romanov era at the time of filming. The remains of Nicholas II and Empress Alexandra, for example, were transferred from Ekaterinburg by decree of the Supreme Court and laid to rest in a ceremony in St Petersburg, on 17 July 1998.74 In the year following The Knot’s release, the Tsar and his family would be canonized by the Russian Orthodox Church, with the bishops issuing a statement that echoed Solzhenitsyn’s calls for self-limitation in the life of nations: short of proclaiming the Romanovs to be martyrs, the royal family was instead hailed as “passion bearers [...] who sincerely sought to live by the commandments of the Gospels.”75 Such a spectacle reflected not only Solzhenitsyn’s moral and religious convictions, but the stuff of grandeur that characterized his vision of a bygone era. This sentiment remains a guiding logic behind the cultural policies of the Russian government, which has increasingly rejected Soviet and tsarist interpretations of history as having held an “excessively ideological approach to [...] state symbols,” insisting that a reconciliation of the two eras’ best achievements offers the best hope for the future.76

While Sokurov clearly hoped to draw attention to Solzhenitsyn’s softer, philosophical side during their walks in the forests, the director was undermined by the political events of the time. Sokurov’s revised portrait of the Nobel prize winner came at a point in history when the President was facing impeachment on charges of “waging genocide against the Russian people through economic policies,” amid a backdrop of economic hardship and political instability.77 Moreover, Solzhenitsyn himself was unable to conform to an image such as the one given in The Knot during this time, against the backdrop of NATO’s war in Yugoslavia.

At the time of his return, the author had given a measured response to Western queries about the conflict in southern Europe and Russian attitudes toward it. “Generally speaking, I am an opponent of pan-Slavism,” stated Solzhenitsyn in a 1994 interview. “I do not feel that we have a role to play in the

74

See “Supreme Court Says Tsar’s Bones Will Come to Moscow,” Reuters 16 December 1997: <http://www.cdi.org/russia/johnson/1435.html##11> (Accessed 1 October 2011). For Yeltsin’s account of the Tsar’s re-burial, see Boris Yeltsin, Midnight Diaries, translated by Catherine Fitzpatrick (New York: Public Affairs, 2000) 300–305. 75

“Nicholas II and Family Canonized for ‘Passion,’” The New York Times 15 August 2000: A7. 76

Rosalind Marsh, Literature, History and Identity in Post-Soviet Russia, 1991–2006 (Switzerland: Peter Lang, 2007) 112. 77

“Yeltsin Impeachment Debate in Uproar,” BBC News 14 May 1999: <http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/343626.stm> (Accessed 10 July 2009).

324 BEN A. MCVICKER Balkans, with the Slavs. But the West has created this scenario against Serbia [...]. And no segment of the peoples of Yugoslavia can bear sole responsibility, not the Serbs, nor the Bosnians, nor the Croatians.” Moreover, Solzhenitsyn’s reasoning remained consistent with his life-long position on the drawing of national borders under communist rule. “In Yugoslavia, it all began with the same problem as elsewhere,” he insisted. “They arbitrarily cut up the borders, without paying any thought to history [...] ethnicity [...] [or] years of resettlement. And when [...] Yugoslavia began to disintegrate, the knowing Western powers [...] inexplicably proclaimed recognition of these states in their artificial, false borders.”78

His comments on the NATO bombing campaign of 24 March–11 June 1999 were of a markedly different tone, siding with the Russian public in its outrage and condemnation of the NATO operation. In a statement that today circulates under the title, “The Law of the Jungle,” Solzhenitsyn condemned the NATO alliance, accusing it of “rejecting the United Nations [...] [and] trampling underfoot its Charter.” President Bill Clinton, Prime Minister Tony Blair, and NATO’s Secretary General, Javier Solana, he continued, had “forced upon the whole world [...] the ancient law [...] that the one that has the power is always right.” “Before the eyes of mankind, a beautiful country is being devastated and the civilized governments applaud. [...] This is the world we are ordered to live in from now on.”79

Solzhenitsyn’s harsh criticism of the NATO campaign and his decision to support Serbia in the conflict was key to the Russian government’s decision to re-embrace the former dissident as a national icon in the twenty-first century. High-profile denunciations of the war were widespread in Russia at the time, with Mikhail Gorbachev, Patriarch Aleksei II, and Evgenii Evtushenko just a few names among a sea of disgruntled personalities. None among them, however, possessed the talent for collective expression that Solzhenitsyn could lay claim to in his early works, ranging from Ivan Denisovich to the Gulag Archipelago. Time and time again, he had captured the historical and political experience of a nation, and funnelled it through a single, articulate voice on the world stage during the Cold War. Beginning with the first years of glasnost', competing nationalist organizations such as the highly anti-Semitic Pamiat' [Memory], or the LDPR led by Zhirinovskii, struggled to articulate a patriotism that could capture the public imagination. After two decades’ efforts, neither had gained more than a cult following.80 It was to a degree the sheer lack of a

78

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Publitsistika v trekh tomakh: Tom 3 (Iaroslavl': Verkhniaia Volga, 1994) 477–478. 79

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, “Zakon—Taiga,” Argumenty i fakty 14 April 1999: <http://dlib.eastview.com/browse/doc/2555053> (Accessed 31 July 2011). 80

For a humorous and revealing characterization of Pamiat', see David Remnick, Lenin’s Tomb (New York: Vintage Books, 1993): 89–90. Solzhenitsyn, in his own interview with



persuasive framework for Russian history at the dawn of the twenty-first century, which allowed Solzhenitsyn to re-enter the public eye as a symbolic figure during the tenure of President Vladimir Putin.

Much has been made of the amicable relations between Putin and Solzhenitsyn. The spectacle of Solzhenitsyn accepting the State Prize of the Russian Federation from a former KGB agent in 2006 after declining similar honours from Yeltsin and Gorbachev was a discomfiting one for western observers. Had the dissident-turned-curmudgeon truly come to embrace a man whose past employer had expelled him from his native land in 1974? David Satter, speaking at a symposium on Solzhenitsyn in December 2008, remarked that in his support of Putin, Solzhenitsyn had “strayed from the path of universal values [...] [and] demonstrated spiritual weaknesses that were not so evident in the years when he valiantly resisted Soviet totalitarianism.”81 Richard Pipes, speaking at the same event, tied Solzhenitsyn’s mindset to Putin’s oft-misused statement about the Soviet Union’s dissolution being “the worst geopolitical tragedy of the twentieth century.”82 “He is no spiritual guide for Russia,” continued Pipes. “His knowledge of Russian history was most superficial even though he talked about it in an authoritative manner. [...] Russians pretty much ignored him on his return home and neither read his books nor listened to his TV program. [...] In the long run, he will be little more than a blip in Russia’s twentieth-century history.”83

Such attitudes fail to grasp the subtleties of Solzhenitsyn’s fluctuating status in post-Soviet Russia. Those who bemoaned the Nobel laureate’s abandonment of his past values arguably had not understood them to begin with. It was precisely his efforts to promote such concepts as neo-Slavophilism, repentance and self-limitation in 1994–1995 that led to the immediate dearth of interest in Remnick, dismissed Zhirinovskii as “a clown,” remarking “I’ve never encountered this degree of unending lunacy. It is a joke at every step of the way.” Cited in Remnick, Reporting 182. 81

As cited in Jamie Glazov, ed., “Symposium: Remembering the Dissident,” Biblioteka Yakova Krotova: <http://www.krotov.info/yakov/7_auto/chernoviki/2008_12_25solzh.htm> (Accessed 29 July 2011). 82

Contrary to popular citation, the phrase does not refer to the death of communism, but to the sudden diaspora of 20 million ethnic Russians outside their national borders, the emergence of the oligarchy, and the widespread impoverishment following the collapse of the Soviet Union. For the complete speech, see Vladimir Putin, “Address to the Federal Assembly of the Russian Federation,” President of Russia 25 April 2005: <http://www.kremlin.ru/eng/speeches/2005/04/25/2031_type70029type82912_87086.shtml> (Accessed 29 July 2011). Solzhenitsyn himself echoed Putin’s sentiment, stating that “President Yeltsin abandoned 25 million of our fellow countrymen, leaving them without legal rights [...] they became foreigners in their own country. And all the while he has hugged with dictators and handed them national awards [...] I regard as shameful his responsibility as he retires.” See Saraskina 868–869. 83

Cited in Glazov.

326 BEN A. MCVICKER his work in his home country. Few in Russia were interested in a post-Soviet existence grounded in humility, introspection and moderation for the sake of others. Had not the promise of capitalist democracy been one rooted in individualism, public expression and consumerism? The greatest challenge for Putin in re-inventing Solzhenitsyn was to re-mould the writer’s archaic ideology for popular consumption while preserving enough of his biography to distinguish the man’s patriotism from that of a Zhirinovskii.

Solzhenitsyn’s initial respect for Putin was rooted in the Prime Minister’s hardline stance on the conflict in Chechnya following a series of apartment bombings by suspected terrorists from 31 August to 16 September 1999. In the 1994 conflict, the writer had encouraged Yeltsin to allow the separation (rasklochit') of Chechnya from the Russian Federation, with Russia maintaining control over the left bank of the Terek River, an historic Cossack territory.84 His stance on the second Chechen War was markedly different, and very much in line with that of Putin and the ailing Boris Yeltsin, who, after a September 4 bombing in Dagestan, declared that the attacks posed “a grave threat” to ethnic Russians in the region. That ethnic Russians accounted for only nine percent of Dagestan’s population was curiously omitted from the government’s statement.85 For readers of Solzhenitsyn’s Nobel lecture, wherein he denounced advocates of violence for their complicity in lies and falsehood, his statements on the war came as a surprise. “After these three years of [Chechen President Aslan] Mashkadov, which have been the source of organized terrorism, bombings, and danger [...] I see that I was mistaken in my advice to Yeltsin,” the writer stated in early 2000. “It was not Putin who attacked Chechnya, but Mashkadov who attacked Dagestan. What were we to do, give up Dagestan? And then Stavropol, and Krasnodar—just to avoid war?”86 Solzhenitsyn became increasingly vocal in his support of the Russian government, culminating in a demand for the reintroduction of the death penalty for Chechen rebels.87 Alla Dudaev, the widow of former Chechen President Dzhokhar Dudaev (1991–1996), called for Solzhenitsyn to be stripped of his Nobel prize over his

84

“Solzhenitsyn: bor'ba ne ‘protiv,’ a ‘za,’” RIA Novosti 4 August 2008: <http://ria.ru/ review/20080804/150096614.html> (Accessed 2 October 2011). 85

Karl C. Schaffenburg, “Russkiy and Rossiiskiy: Russian National Identity After Putin,” Orbis 51.4 (Fall 2007): 733. 86


See “Russia’s Solzhenitsyn Wants Death Penalty Restored,” Reuters 29 April 2001: <http://www.cdi.org/russia/johnson/5229.html##1> (Accessed 2 October 2011). A moratorium was placed on the death penalty in May 1996 following Yeltsin’s signature of Protocol No. 6 to the Convention for the Protection of Human Rights, as a prerequisite for Russia’s membership in the Council of Europe. See Frances Nethercott, Russian Legal Culture Before and After Communism: Criminal Justice, Politics, and the Public Sphere (New York: Routledge, 2007) 137–140.



comments.88 Could this truly be the man who penned such damning investigations of the Soviet regime’s employment of the death penalty as “Zakon-rebenok” [The Law As a Child] and “Zakon muzhaet” [The Law Becomes a Man] in The Gulag Archipelago?89 Vladimir Soloviev, cited in Solzhenitsyn’s acclaimed Nobel lecture, likely stirred in his grave at Solzhenitsyn’s change of ethics.90

It was against this backdrop of renewed patriotism and aggression that Solzhenitsyn’s first meeting with President Putin took place in September 2000. As had Yeltsin, Putin conferred with the writer for three hours, this time in his residence located outside Moscow. There was a marked difference, however, between the two presidents’ agendas in their respective meetings with the former Soviet dissident. Boris Yeltsin’s courtship of Solzhenitsyn had in many ways mirrored Gorbachev’s: he showered the man with flattery, ensured that his works were published en masse, and consistently met Solzhenitsyn’s demands in an effort to secure his political support. For Putin, the unlikely courtship was also a matter of personal damage control. The President-elect’s decision to remain on vacation for nearly a week following the Kursk tragedy and death of 118 Russian sailors on 12 August 2000 prompted harsh criticism for his perceived indifference toward the disaster. Zoltan Barany, reflecting on the government’s handling of the crisis four years later, highlighted the fact that “while Yeltsin surrounded himself with a coterie of advisers [...] Putin kept close counsel with the only people he would trust: former colleagues [...] from the KGB and armed forces.” Consequently, the widespread incompetence of his public relations team managed to achieve the unthinkable and prompted a sense of nostalgia for Yeltsin’s “impulsive warmth” on such matters.91

Thus, the immediate goal of Putin’s advisors in having him meet with the former dissident was to better the young president’s image at home and abroad: whatever Russian opinions of Solzhenitsyn may have been in September 2000, certainly none would question his Russian patriotism. Conversely, the symbolic meeting of a former KGB officer with the best-known dissident of the Soviet era would be a significant rebuke to western speculation over the return of authoritarian rule in Russia. Their meeting proved to be a mutually beneficial 88

Anatol Lieven, Dimitrii Trenin, and Aleksei Malashenko, Russia’s Restless Frontier: The Chechnya Factor in Post-Soviet Russia (Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2004) 53. 89

See Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago, 1918–1956, translated by Thomas Whitney (Colorado: Westview Press, 1974) 1: 299–371. 90

Soloviev, in his 1897 work, Pravo i nravstvennost' [Law and Morality] denounced the death penalty as “spiritually harmful to society” and a “profane, inhumane, and shameful act.” See Vladimir Soloviev, Politics, Law, and Morality: Essays by V. S. Soloviev (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000) 179. 91

Zoltan Barany, “The Tragedy of the Kursk: Crisis Management in Putin’s Russia,” Government and Opposition 39.3 (2004): 486.

328 BEN A. MCVICKER one, with the Russian President regaining a degree of esteem among his observers, and Solzhenitsyn re-entering the public eye after years in the shadows. “We had a very lively, very wholesome dialogue,” remarked Solzhenitsyn, in brighter spirits than in 1994. “He took note of a range of my proposals, and I accepted his objections [...] I think that this meeting was very healthy and necessary. I’m thankful that the President found the time to visit and have a discussion.”92

To be sure, the two men shared a variety of traits that were absent in Presidents Mikhail Gorbachev and Boris Yeltsin. The latter pair had pursued closer ties with the west as a means of political stabilization and renewal, in contrast to Putin and Solzhenitsyn’s aggressive foreign policy and heated rhetoric over the years. Their patriotism, meanwhile, was of a different variety. Gorbachev’s had been rooted in a multicultural, Soviet vision, while Yeltsin’s entailed such reforms as the introduction of a new anthem, the removal of monuments to the likes of Feliks Dzerzhinskii, and the establishment of a parliamentary system alien to the Russian public.93 Further, the atheistic Gorbachev and his bumbling believer of a successor did not reflect the priority that Putin and Solzhenitsyn placed upon Orthodoxy. “Unlike Boris Nikolaevich,” confirmed Aleksei Simonov of the Glasnost Defence Foundation, “[Putin] knows that you’re supposed to cross yourself with your right hand and hold the candle with your left. This skill has assisted him very much.”94

The distinction between Solzhenitsyn’s relations with Putin compared to that of his predecessors was not lost on the Russian media. A variety of positive headlines circulated shortly after their meeting, casting the two men as great personalities. The daily, Novoe vremia, speculated that Solzhenitsyn would play the role of “a new Stolypin for Putin,” while Segodnia took the historical comparisons even further. “For the second time in Russia’s history, we have the pairing of a ruler [pravitelia] and a writer,” read the editorial. “On the first occasion, that ruler was the sovereign and reflective Nicholas I, and the writer, Pushkin [...] today, this pair is comprised of Putin and Solzhenitsyn.”95

Such public interest in Solzhenitsyn undertaking a more direct role in the course of Russian politics had not been seen since the last days of perestroika. It 92


Indeed, Solzhenitsyn himself regarded parliamentary democracy as a system unsuited to Russian political culture, stating in a 1995 interview that political officials “are talking about a confederation with Russia. But we don’t need a confederation or a federation. A federation is a false Leninist invention. Russia was never a federation.” Cited in David G. Rowley, “Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn and Russian Nationalism,” Journal of Contemporary History 32.3 (1997): 335. 94

Cited in Alexander Osipovich, “Piety’s Comeback as a Kremlin Virtue,” The Moscow Times 12 February 2008: <http://www.cdi.org/russia/johnson/2008-30-16.cfm> (Accessed 1 October 2011). 95

Cited in Saraskina 869–870.



reflected the degree to which his return to Russia had reinvigorated cultural debate among ordinary citizens. Rosalind Marsh, writing in 2007, would state that it was “largely thanks to Solzhenitsyn” and his positive appraisal of Stolypin—one shared by Putin—that Nicholas II’s prime minister “had been rehabilitated as one of the greatest statesmen in Russian history.”96 And indeed, that Stolypin’s renewed popularity—the former Prime Minister placed second, ahead of Stalin, in a 2008 television vote for the “Greatest Russian”97—coincided with a new regard for Solzhenitsyn is not surprising. His tacit approval of Yeltsin’s shelling of the White House in October 1993, and his support for the second Chechen War exhibited much the same hard line political thinking as Stolypin had in his suppression of public unrest between 1906 and 1911. The two men’s renewed celebrity in post-Soviet Russia reflects a greater trend in cultural policy born under the Putin government, which Caroline Humphrey has described as the “objectivization and reification” of political personality.98 In 2011 during his tenure as Prime Minister, Putin would go on to chair a committee entrusted with erecting a monument to his Tsarist predecessor.99 That Stolypin bears Solzhenitsyn’s endorsement has surely complemented Putin’s efforts to date: instead of a former KGB officer singing the praises of a politician known for his “neckties” (a moniker for the hangman’s noose), we have a Prime Minister promoting the celebration of a reformer idealized by a Nobel prize-winning humanitarian.

It was perhaps with the Putin administration’s appreciation of Stolypin in mind that Solzhenitsyn chose to publish selections of the Red Wheel as a trio of smaller, more accessible novels in 2001: Stolypin i tsar' [Stolypin and the Tsar] (from Avgust chetyrnadtsatogo [August 1914]), Lenin: Tsiurikh—Petrograd [Lenin in Zurich and Petrograd] (containing chapters from all four books), and Nakonets-to revoliutsiia [The Revolution at Last] (from Mart semnadtsatogo [March 1917]). Significantly, the chapters and selections contained in the three novels consist only of those sections dealing with historic personalities or events, with Solzhenitsyn having eliminated all reference to his fictional

96

Marsh 114. 97

“Stalin Voted Third-Best Russian,” BBC News 28 December 2008: <http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7802485.stm> (Accessed 29 July 2011). 98

Caroline Humphrey, “Historical Analogies and the Commune: The Case of Putin/ Stolypin,” in Enduring Socialism: Explorations of Revolution and Transformation, Restoration and Continuation, edited by Harry G. West and Parvathi Raman (New York: Berghahn Books, 2009) 247. 99

Sean Guillory, “Putin Channels Stolypin,” Sean’s Russia Blog 14 July 2011: <http://seansrussiablog.org/2011/07/14/putin-channels-stolypin/> (Accessed 4 August 2011).

330 BEN A. MCVICKER characters.100 In allowing, perhaps encouraging, Solzhenitsyn to publish these revised editions of the Red Wheel, the Kremlin achieved a number of things. First, it was a strike against anyone who charged the regime with curbing artistic freedoms: if Solzhenitsyn, the face of literary oppression, was being printed en masse, how could that be so? Secondly, by directly involving the author in the editing and reconstruction of the novels, the government developed a more collaborative, trusting relationship with the man than either Khrushchev, Gorbachev or Yeltsin had in their lifetimes. Most importantly, a closer relationship with Solzhenitsyn, the artist, enabled the Russian government to covertly address some of the most painful and controversial matters in the country’s history without making explicit statements on the respective issues. The downsized, readable trio of thematic selections from Solzhenitsyn’s 6,000 page epic outlined above offers a national history that could, conceivably, come to represent the Kremlin’s preferred interpretation in the twenty-first century: that the collapse of the Romanov dynasty was a tragic mishap stemming from a weak leader who failed to heed the advice of Russia’s potential saviour in Stolypin; that Lenin himself was a traitorous opportunist who had spent 25 years abroad; and that the February Revolution which brought Aleksandr Kerenskii to power was in fact the only Revolution of 1917.

Were the governments of Vladimir Putin or Dmitrii Medvedev to declare such concepts by decree, it would be a symbolic gesture at best. It is foolhardy to believe that history is best learned through government renunciations of the past, as was the case in the Yeltsin era. This is particularly true of Russia, a country which, as Solzhenitsyn emphasized, has never held anyone accountable for the peoples’ suffering. If one considers the relatively short amount of time that has passed since the collapse of the Soviet Union, then surely the arts represent the most realistic outlet for remoulding a nation’s moral consciousness under present circumstances. This was true of the Thaw of the 1960s, and, indeed, conforms to a tradition dating back to the nineteenth century.

This lack of reconciliation with the past represents the core logic behind state television’s lavish, high-budget serials of previously-banned Soviet novels in Russia. With Anatolii Rybakov’s Deti Arbata [Children of the Arbat] (2004) and Mikhail Bulgakov’s Master i Margarita [The Master and Margarita] (2005) already adapted for the screen, a seven-and-a-half hour, commercial-free version of Solzhenitsyn’s The First Circle was broadcast on the state-owned Rossiia network in 2006. As with the refurbished Red Wheel from 2001, Solzhenitsyn was directly involved in its production and is credited both as the screenwriter, narrator, and a consultant. Natalia Solzhenitsyna, vocal in her criticism of the Yeltsin regime for its cancellation of her husband’s television program in 1995, offered high praise for the screen adaptation, declaring that there was “not one

100

Edward E. Ericson, Jr. and Alexis Klimoff, The Soul and Barbed Wire (Delaware: ISI Books, 2008) 162.



drop of falsehood” in its depiction of events.101 The spectacle of large posters bearing Solzhenitsyn’s smiling visage plastered throughout downtown Moscow as part of the film’s promotion was a striking one. Certainly it did not conform to western allegations of Stalin’s rehabilitation under Putin; in fact one could argue that given the content of The First Circle, with its cast of characters arrested and imprisoned in a sharashka102 under Article 58, the series represented a popular examination of Stalin’s legacy in Russia. The first episode on January 29 drew the most viewers in the country that week, beating out the television debut of Terminator 3 and drawing 15 million viewers per week thereafter.103

The most notable aspect of The First Circle’s success in 2006, however, was that it spurred a significant reaction among public and political circles. The series was denounced by KPRF leader Gennadii Ziuganov as “an absolutely sideways glance at history,” while some elder Muscovites complained that “Stalin is shown as a bastard.”104 Reformers, too, took issue with its depiction of events, warning that the series aimed to “reconstruct Soviet values” for its viewers by appealing to their sense of nostalgia.105 This in itself is a testament to the Kremlin’s strategic reinvention of Solzhenitsyn: the public entered into debate about The First Circle and its themes due to the accessibility of the television medium.

The public reaction to The First Circle was the first noteworthy success of the Putin Kremlin’s endeavour to encourage citizens to confront the tragic events of the Soviet era through popular media. The relevance of this achievement was not lost on the country’s top academics, who nominated Solzhenitsyn for the State Prize of the Russian Federation in 2006.106 Asked to explain his decision to accept the honour, in contrast to his rejection of the Order of St Andrew (1998) and State Prize in Literature (1990), Solzhenitsyn offered a statement that effectively endorsed the government’s policy of reconciliation with the past via the arts:

101

Cited in Steven Lee Myers, “Toast of the TV in Russian Eyes: It’s Solzhenitsyn,” The New York Times 9 February 2006: <http://www.nytimes.com/2006/02/09/international/ europe/09russia.html?pagewanted=all> (Accessed 29 July 2011). 102

A research facility staffed by qualified prisoners selected from the Gulag. 103

Myers, “Toast of the TV in Russian Eyes: It’s Solzhenitsyn.” 104

Myers, “Toast of the TV in Russian Eyes: It’s Solzhenitsyn.” 105

John Givens, “Introduction,” Russian Studies in Literature 43.4 (2007): 3. See also Irina Kaspe, “Manuscripts Are Kept Forever: Televised Series and Literature,” Russian Studies in Literature 43.4 (2007): 17-39. 106

Contrary to popular western perceptions, Solzhenitsyn was nominated by the national Council on Science (est. 2001) and supported by the Council on the Arts (est. 1996). That the President himself awarded the prize was a formality.

332 BEN A. MCVICKER

A great number of publications and movies on the history of the twentieth century—albeit of varying quality—are evidence of a growing demand [for a re-evaluation of the past]. Quite recently, the state-owned channel Rossiia aired a series on Varlam Shalamov’s works, showing the terrible, cruel truth about Stalin’s camps. It was not watered down.

I have been surprised and impressed by the large-scale, heated and long-lasting discussions [...] the wide range of opinions, including those opposed to mine, demonstrate the eagerness to understand the past.107

Such a statement from Solzhenitsyn would have been unthinkable during the tenures of Yeltsin or Gorbachev. The Putin and Medvedev governments, despite being comparatively disengaged in their relationship with the writer, avoiding correspondence and prolific speeches, had established a functional, working relationship with the man.

While these tactics fail to address many of the criticisms of the regime’s stance on the Soviet past voiced by Western observers, such as the portrayal of Stalin in history texts,108 they are not without positive, long-term implications. The Kremlin Web site today features a profile of Solzhenitsyn, hailed as “the founder of a significant school in historical-anthropological and cultural studies.” Following an overview of Solzhenitsyn’s works, from Ivan Denisovich and “Matriona’s Home,” to Dvesti let vmeste [Two Hundred Years Together], the Russian government offers its appraisal of the Archipelago and its place in the country’s history:

His fundamental work, The Gulag Archipelago, became the first record of the tragic events of the Soviet era. The author exposed this phenomenon as a manifestation of the totalitarian regimes unique to the twentieth century. The very creation of the

107

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, “Napisano krov'iu—Interv'iu zhurnalu Shpigel'—2007 god,” Aleksandr Isaevich Solzhenitsyn 23 July 2007: <http://solzhenicyn.ru/modules/pages/ Napisano_krovyu-intervyu_zhurnalu_SHpigel-2007_god.html> (Accessed 29 July 2011). 108

Particularly controversial has been the state’s effort to introduce a consolidationist history of the Soviet period in the form of a government-sanctioned textbook, Noveishaia istoriia Rossii, 1945–2008: Kniga dlia uchitelia. Based on a handbook by A. V. Filippov, a deputy director of the pro-government National Laboratory for Foreign Policy, the word “Gulag” appeared only once in its nearly-500 pages, in reference to the wartime economy. For a critical evaluation of the text, see the relevant articles by David Brandenberger, Vladimir Solonari, Boris N. Mironov, Elena Zubkova and Anton Fediashin in “Toward a New Orthodoxy? The Politics of History in Russia Today,” Kritika 10.4 (2009): 825–868. Paradoxically, the Filippov textbook’s introduction to national classrooms in 2009 coincided with a directive from the Russian Ministry of Education, outlining “methodological recommendations for the enhanced study of the creative works of A. I. Solzhenitsyn.” In 2010, it was announced that chapters of The Gulag Archipelago would make compulsory reading for senior high school students. See “Rossiiskie starsheklassniki budut izuchat' “Arkhipelag GULAG” Aleksandra Solzhenitsyna,” Ministerstvo obrazovaniia i nauki Rossiiskoi Federatsii 9 September 2009: <http://mon.gov.ru/press/reliz/5691/> (Accessed 4 August 2011).



work itself became a first step toward documenting the memories and testimony of former prisoners into a single chronicle [...]109

This recognition of Solzhenitsyn’s achievements, even if the site makes no specific reference to his opinions, does not lessen its significance and in fact solidifies his status as a cultural icon, as opposed to a footnote in the nation’s history.

Upon returning to his native land in the summer of 1994, Solzhenitsyn was received with unprecedented support from citizens and government authorities. At a time of social and economic turmoil, he seemed poised to inherit the recently deceased Andrei Sakharov’s position as Russia’s moral conscience and global voice on human rights. That Solzhenitsyn failed to rise to the occasion cannot but be seen as one of the great disappointments of the 1990s. His stubborn and archaic personal philosophy, coupled with his unflinching attacks on the very men and women who had enabled him to return from exile swiftly discredited him as an authoritative voice in post-Soviet politics. Between the writer’s own political ineptness and the chaotic, muddled reforms of the Yeltsin government, seminal works such as The Gulag Archipelago and their historic significance stood to be lost or forgotten in the post-Soviet era. The comparisons to Sakharov at once dissolved, as Solzhenitsyn revealed himself to be concerned entirely with political hierarchies, showing little interest in human rights.

It is most ironic that Solzhenitsyn’s public image and body of work would be redeemed, even reinvented, for future generations by a former agent of the KGB. It was only through Putin’s calculated seduction of the Nobel Prize winner under the banner of Russian nationalism that Solzhenitsyn came to co-operate in preserving the significance of his writings for future generations. While this approach has drawn criticism for its frequent depiction of Solzhenitsyn as a patriot rather than an advocate of rights and freedoms, the government’s efforts at integrating his life’s works within the framework of post-Soviet culture have been met with a great deal of success thus far. This is a marked contrast to the liberal years of perestroika and democratic reform, when Solzhenitsyn was foisted upon the Russian populace as a moral and political authority, and was soundly rejected. In a country that is renowned for its history of great leaps in foreign and domestic policy, it is arguably the gradualism of the Putin and Medvedev regimes that is so disconcerting to western observers.

109

“Laureaty gosudarstvennykh premii Rossiiskoi Federatsii,” Prezident Rossii 5 June 2007: <http://www.kremlin.ru/events/articles/2007/06/132713/132899.shtml> (Accessed 29 July 2011).

viii CONTRIBUTORS / AUTEURS

TARAS KOZNARSKY is Associate Professor at the Department of Slavic Languages and Literatures at the University of Toronto where he teaches courses in Ukrainian, Russian, and comparative Slavic literatures and cultures. His latest projects include “Three Novels, Three Cities,” in Modernism in Kyiv, Kiev, Kijow: Jubilant Experimentation, edited by Irena Makaryk and Virlana Tkacz (2010), articles on Nikolai Gogol, representations of Jews in nineteenth-century travel literature, and literary representations of Mazepa, as well as two manuscripts, “Empire, Identity, and Cultural Exchange: The Shaping of Ukrainian Literary Discourse, 1800s–1840s” (under revision, Harvard Ukrainian Research Institute Press) and “The Text of Kyiv, 1800s–1930s.”

DAVID R. MARPLES is Distinguished University Professor, Department of History & Classics, University of Alberta. His most recent books are Russia in the Twentieth Century: The Quest for Stability (2011) and Heroes and Villains: Creating National History in Contemporary Ukraine (2008).

BEN A. MCVICKER is a PhD Candidate in History at the University of Toronto, where he also received his MA in European, Russian, and Eurasian Studies. He holds a combined honours BA in Russian Studies and History from Dalhousie University. His dissertation research, supported by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, examines the cultural and political representation of the Afgantsy—veterans of the 1979–1989 war in Afghanistan—in the Russian Federation.

BOHDAN Y. NEBESIO is Associate Professor of Film Studies at Brock University. Among his interests are Soviet film history, history of film theory, national cinemas, and cognitive approaches to film. He is the author of Alexander Dovzhenko: A Guide to Published Sources (1995) and co-author of The A to Z of Ukraine (2010). His recent articles on Ukrainian cinema appeared in Historical Journal of Film, Radio and Television, KinoKultura, and Canadian Review of Comparative Literature.

ALLA NEDASHKIVSKA is Associate Professor at the University of Alberta in the Department of Modern Languages and Cultural Studies, where she teaches applied linguistics, Slavic linguistics, and Ukrainian language and culture courses. She publishes in the area of Slavic linguistics; specifically, language and media, political language, gender linguistics, as well as language pedagogy. Nedashkivska is the author of the recent Ukrainian Through Its Living Culture (2010), an advanced-level language textbook.

MARY A. NICHOLAS is Associate Professor of Russian in the Department of Modern Languages and Literatures at Lehigh University in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. She is the author of Writers at Work: Russian Production Novels and the Construction of Soviet Culture (2010), as well as numerous articles on post-revolutionary Russian prose and poetry. An award-winning teacher, Nicholas is currently working on a book entitled “Words Worth 1,000 Pictures: Texts in Russian Conceptualism.”

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