Solzhenitsyn

^{CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE} “I AM NOT AFRAID OF DEATH”

Following the dramatic success of the television adaptation of The First Circle, it was announced that the “uncut” edition of the novel was soon to be published for the first time in an English translation. Although the complete text had been available in Russian for some time, the only version available in English since its publication in 1968 was an expurgated version that Solzhenitsyn had “lightened” in the vain hope that it would pass muster with the Soviet censors. It was not until 2005 that the full ninety-six-chapter version was finally translated, the work being completed by the translator, Harry Willetts, shortly before his death. Several of the “new” chapters debuted in the autumn of 2006 in The Solzhenitsyn Reader: New and Essential Writings 1947-2005, edited by Edward E. Ericson, Jr., and Daniel J. Mahoney, but the novel would not be published in its entirety until 2009.

In April 2006, Solzhenitsyn was again making world headlines, this time for attacking NATO. “Solzhenitsyn Warns of NATO Plot” was the headline on the BBC News website; “Solzhenitsyn Accuses NATO of Plotting against Russia”, wrote the Moscow correspondent of Agence France-Presse; “Nobel Laureate Aleksander Solzhenitsyn Accuses US, NATO of Encircling Russia” blazoned the English-language site of Pravda.¹ There was no doubt that Solzhenitsyn’s provocative attack on NATO’s expansion was the point of primary interest for the world’s media, but the sound-bite and the spin failed to do justice to the depth and complexity of his words. The context in which they were spoken illustrated that Solzhenitsyn was not the xenophobic slavophile nationalist that the headlines and the spin implied, but that, on the contrary, he remained an astute observer of global politics from a tradition-oriented Christian perspective.

The controversial comments came in an interview with Vitaly Tretyakov, editor-in-chief of Moskovskiye Novosti (Moscow News), in which Tretyakov conflated global politics into a simplistic framework in which “Christian civilization” is seen as being embodied in “the North American Union”, the European Union, and “the East European (Russian) Union”. Tretyakov’s question warrants quoting in full in order to clarify the rationale behind Solzhenitsyn’s words of rebuttal: “I, for one, believe that unless the three principal subjects of Euro-Atlantic (Christian) civilization—specifically, the North American Union, the (Western) European Union, and the East European (Russian) Union—form a strategic alliance (with supra-state bodies), our civilization will disappear sooner or later. Where do you think salvation for the Euro-Atlantic civilization lies?”²

Ever the clear and incisive thinker, Solzhenitsyn replied, “Unfortunately, the global political process is not moving in the direction that you have just outlined”, and that Russia’s acceptance of “the Euro-Atlantic alliance… would result not in the expansion but the decline of Christian civilization”. In other words, Solzhenitsyn perceived US foreign policy, and the foreign policy of the European Union, as furthering the cause of global secularism. Far from representing the preservation or strengthening of Christian civilization, the world order envisaged by corporate globalism and its political agencies would herald Christendom’s demise. It is within this context that Solzhenitsyn’s attack on NATO must be understood, a context that placed his words in complete harmony with the criticism of liberal secularism that he had always espoused since his equally controversial Harvard address almost thirty years earlier. Once again, his words were misunderstood or misrepresented by the media in such a way that their real meaning was buried under the rubble of Orwellian Newspeak.

Also overlooked by the world’s media was Solzhenitsyn’s principled stance on the need for “grassroots” democracy. During the interview, he criticized the undemocratic nature of two-party “democracies”, condemning the party system as a form of “collective egoism”, which was parasitical, “living off others, at somebody else’s expense”. As an alternative to these undemocratic macro-“democracies”, Solzhenitsyn posited a subsidiarist approach to democracy: “A healthy democratic system can only evolve on the grassroots level, from local associations, stepwise, through stage-by-stage elections…. I believe that a democratic system evolving from local government to Supreme Legislative Assembly is the healthiest for Russia and the most consonant with its traditional spirit.” Considering that Western democracies were “in a serious crisis”, it was foolish to simply model Russian democracy on democratic systems in the West. “The only correct path for us is not to copy other models but, without deviating from democratic principles, work on improving the physical and moral well-being of the people.”

Apart from his advocacy of subsidiarity as the key to true democracy, Solzhenitsyn gave his support to Metropolitan Kirill of the Orthodox Church, specifically with regard to the latter’s insistence that unbridled human rights should not be allowed to jeopardize religious liberty. Insisting that rights must be tempered by responsibilities, Solzhenitsyn reiterated that self-limitation was the key to freedom and prosperity:

Describing Solzhenitsyn as “not a liberal and certainly not a socialist”, Tretyakov dubbed him a “conservative” and asked him to define “modern Russian conservatism”. Solzhenitsyn replied that “conservatism is a striving to preserve and uphold the best, the most humane and reasonable traditions that have justified themselves throughout centuries-old history”. The rise of conservatism in modern Russia was “a natural response to total license” and was “reassuring” though only “embryonic” in its nature.

It was also intriguing considering the tone of the international media’s coverage of the interview that Solzhenitsyn explicitly condemned xenophobia and insisted that Russian nationalism had nothing to do with either “fascism” or “Nazism”. Xenophobia had “never been an inherent quality of the Russian people”, and the rise in the number of racist attacks was alarming. “Firm” and “forceful” measures were needed to stop “these barbaric attacks and murders which are threatening our society”, but it was also necessary “to study in earnest the causes and roots of these aggressive attitudes”. Such attitudes might have been spawned by the systematic ethno-masochism of Soviet communism: “Suppressing ethnic Russians for the benefit of other ethnic groups was one of Lenin’s central, obsessive ideas…. It was continued under Stalin despite his hypocritical statements later. (As for our present Constitution, the word ‘Russians’ is not there at all!) Throughout decades, a feeling of bitterness and resentment has built up in Russian consciousness.”

In spite of the huge differences between Russian nationalism and Nazism, which had nothing in common, the term “fascism” was “being used loosely and irresponsibly as a convenient swearword which hinders the rise of Russian identity and Russian national awareness”.³ Later in the year, in an interview with the Austrian novelist Daniel Kehlmann, published in the French newspaper, Le Figaro, Solzhenitsyn lamented that many in the West saw Russia as being synonymous with “communism”, failing to distinguish between Russia and the Soviet Union. Whereas many on the so-called “left” employed the term fascism loosely and irresponsibly, many on the “right” were all too ready to employ the epithet communist or Soviet to decry the threat of a revitalized Russia. The former were stuck in the miasma of the class war, the latter in the myopia of the Cold War; neither was able to come to terms with a reality that their dumbed-down vocabulary prevented them from comprehending. Far from being guilty of a narrow-minded chauvinism, Solzhenitsyn was once again the victim of it.

In April 2007, Solzhenitsyn’s old friend and ally, Mstislav Rostropovich, died after a long battle with cancer. His funeral service was held at the Cathedral of Christ the Savior, which had been dynamited on Stalin’s orders in 1931 but had been restored in the 1990s, following the fall of the Soviet Union.⁴ It was, therefore, a symbol of, or a metaphor for, the phoenix-like resurrection of Russia from the ashes of the Soviet brand of secular fundamentalism. In the presence of such a resurrection in stone, the promised resurrection of the deceased must have seemed all the more potent. Although Solzhenitsyn had issued a statement following Rostropovich’s death, calling it “a bitter blow for our culture”, he was unable to attend the funeral in person, fueling rumors of his own failing health. Alya, representing the family, made the sign of the cross and bowed before the coffin at the end of the funeral, in accordance with Russian Orthodox custom.⁵

On June 5, the Russian President, Vladimir Putin, signed a decree honoring Solzhenitsyn “for exemplary achievements in the area of humanitarian activities”. The award was announced by State Hermitage Museum director Mikhail Piotovsky and Yuri Osipov, president of the Russian Academy of Sciences, at a Kremlin news conference. Responding to news of the award on her husband’s behalf, Alya told reporters that Solzhenitsyn viewed it as recognition that his life’s work had been noticed: “It gives a certain hope, and Alexander Isayevich would be glad if this hope really was fulfilled in life, hope that our country will learn from the lessons of destroying itself in the twentieth century and never repeat it.”⁶ As with the funeral of Rostropovich, Solzhenitsyn’s failing health prevented his being able to attend the pomp and circumstance of the official awards ceremony at a hall in the Kremlin on June 12, his wife once again serving as his representative. Yet, later the same day, as a mark of the respect with which he was now held by Russia’s ruling elite, Putin visited Solzhenitsyn’s residence to present the award in person. According to Russian press reports, the two men discussed Solzhenitsyn’s ideas about the political situation in contemporary Russia at some length.⁷

Many people in the West seemed confused and bemused by Solzhenitsyn’s evidently comfortable relationship with Putin, and some were quick to sense a hypocritical rapprochement between Solzhenitsyn and what they perceived to be the new totalitarianism in Russia. Such misreadings of the man were put to rest by Alya Solzhenitsyn in mid-June, within days of the award ceremony in Moscow, during her keynote address at an international Solzhenitsyn conference at the University of Illinois. Among the many aspects of modern Russia with which her husband “by no means agree[d]” were the party-dominated nature of the legislature, the absence of meaningful local self-government, and the rampant corruption that continued to plague Russian society. Most of all, Solzhenitsyn lamented that “there was no process of cleansing” when communism collapsed; “we heard no words of repentance from any of the party bureaucrats”. Without such repentance, Solzhenitsyn believed that Russians had “robbed themselves of the essential experience of historical catharsis”.⁸

In an endeavor to put the Putin-Solzhenitsyn relationship into perspective, Daniel Mahoney, author of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn: The Ascent from Ideology and co-editor of The Solzhenitsyn Reader, insisted that it was “a terrible mistake to assume that Solzhenitsyn is an uncritical supporter of the status quo in Russia today”. Nonetheless,

In actual fact, although Solzhenitsyn had certainly come in from the cold since his days as a dissident, he was only pursuing in his discussions with Putin what he had sought to pursue with the Politburo of the Soviet Union thirty-four years earlier, in his Letter to Soviet Leaders. The only difference was that Putin was prepared to listen to Solzhenitsyn’s wisdom, and to discuss it with him in person, whereas the communist old guard had sought to silence him. If Putin was really prepared to listen to Solzhenitsyn’s warnings about the population implosion caused by the culture of death, or about the need to tackle corruption, or the necessity of strong local democracy, or the difference between true nationalism and chauvinistic imperialism, why should Putin be criticized for listening or Solzhenitsyn for speaking his mind?

In the midst of Solzhenitsyn’s acceptance of the award for “humanitarianism” from Putin, and in the midst of the outrage and confusion that it was causing in the West, A. N. Wilson wrote an essay in the Daily Telegraph praising Solzhenitsyn’s novel Cancer Ward as “an overpoweringly wonderful book”. “One Nobel prizewinner who is thoroughly deserving of his laurel crown is Alexander Solzhenitsyn”, Wilson began, describing Solzhenitsyn as “a great man”. The essay concluded with Wilson’s comparison of Cancer Ward with Kingsley Amis I Want It Now and Edna O’Brien’s The Love Object, two novels that were first published in 1968, the year of Cancer Ward’s first publication. Wishing “no disrespect” to Amis and O’Brien, Wilson nonetheless asserted that, “set beside the Western lightweights”, Solzhenitsyn “seems rather more impressive, ever more so with the passage of time”.¹⁰

On June 23, the German weekly magazine Der Spiegel published an interview with Solzhenitsyn. Not surprisingly, the recent controversy over his acceptance of an award from Vladimir Putin was one of the key questions asked. The question, and Solzhenitsyn’s reply, warrant quotation in extenso:

Asked whether the Russian people had learned the lessons of their communist past, Solzhenitsyn responded optimistically, referring to the “great number of publications and movies” on the history of the twentieth century as “evidence of a growing demand” for greater knowledge of the recent past. He was particularly pleased that the state-owned television channel had recently aired a series based on the works of Varlam Shalamov, whose Kolyma Tales is a classic of Gulag literature. The television adaptation showed “the terrible, cruel truth about Stalin’s camps”, said Solzhenitsyn. “It was not watered down.”¹²

Solzhenitsyn also expressed pleasure at “the large-scale, heated and long-lasting discussions” that had followed in the wake of his own republished article on the February Revolution. “I was pleased to see the wide range of opinions, including those opposed to mine, since they demonstrate the eagerness to understand the past, without which there can be no meaningful future.”¹³

A large part of the interview was devoted to Solzhenitsyn’s perennial desire that Russia develop “local self-government” and his regret that power was too centralized under Putin’s leadership. He cited his personal experience of local democracy during his years in exile in Switzerland and Vermont and held such models of “highly effective local self-government” worthy of emulation in Russia. He also regretted that there was still no effective political opposition to Putin’s administration, stating that “an opposition is necessary and desirable for the healthy development of any country”.¹⁴

Asked what could be done about the huge gap between rich and poor in modern Russia, Solzhenitsyn answered in terms that placed subsidiarity at the heart of economic revitalization. Although vast fortunes were amassed during the “ransacking” of the economy under President Yeltsin, nothing would be gained by taking a socialist approach to the problem: “The only reasonable way to correct the situation today is not to go after big business—the present owners are trying to run them as effectively as they can—but to give breathing room to medium and small businesses. This means protecting citizens and small entrepreneurs from arbitrary rule and from corruption.”¹⁵

Discussing the cooling of relations between Russia and the West, Solzhenitsyn’s analysis of the history of the previous fifteen years highlighted the sharpness with which he viewed contemporary events. When he had returned to Russia, he had discovered that the West was “practically being worshipped”. This was caused “not so much by real knowledge or a conscious choice, but by the natural disgust with the Bolshevik regime and its anti-Western propaganda”. The positive view of many Russians toward the West began to sour following “the cruel NATO bombings of Serbia”: “It’s fair to say that all layers of Russian society were deeply and indelibly shocked by those bombings.” The situation worsened as NATO sought to widen its influence to the former Soviet republics. “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.”¹⁶

As for the West, it was “enjoying its victory after the exhausting Cold War” and was observing the anarchy in Russia under Gorbachev and Yeltsin. It seemed as though Russia was becoming “almost a Third World country and would remain so forever”. In consequence, the reemergence of Russia as a political power caused unease in the West, a panic “based on erstwhile fears”. It was “too bad” that the West was unable to distinguish between Russia and the Soviet Union.¹⁷

On a less gloomy note, Solzhenitsyn expressed his appreciation of German culture, particularly in the work of Schiller, Goethe, and Schelling, and his admiration for “the great German musical tradition”: “I can’t imagine my life without Bach, Beethoven and Schubert.” He was also passionate in his defense of the Russian Orthodox Church, defending it from the accusation that it was becoming “a state Church”:

As the interview drew to a close, Solzhenitsyn was asked what faith meant to him. He replied that faith was “the foundation and support of one’s life”. He was then asked whether he was afraid of death. “No,” he replied, “I am not afraid of death any more…. I feel it is a natural, but by no means the final, milestone of one’s existence.”

“Anyhow,” his interviewers responded, “we wish you many years of creative life.”

“No, no”, Solzhenitsyn replied. “Don’t. It’s enough.”¹⁹