UBC Theses and Dissertations

UBC Theses Logo

UBC Theses and Dissertations

Soviet political memoirs : a study in politics and literature Lakkas, Zoi 1992

Your browser doesn't seem to have a PDF viewer, please download the PDF to view this item.

Item Metadata

Download

Media
831-ubc_1992_spring_lakkas_zoi.pdf [ 1.56MB ]
Metadata
JSON: 831-1.0086712.json
JSON-LD: 831-1.0086712-ld.json
RDF/XML (Pretty): 831-1.0086712-rdf.xml
RDF/JSON: 831-1.0086712-rdf.json
Turtle: 831-1.0086712-turtle.txt
N-Triples: 831-1.0086712-rdf-ntriples.txt
Original Record: 831-1.0086712-source.json
Full Text
831-1.0086712-fulltext.txt
Citation
831-1.0086712.ris

Full Text

SOVIET POLITICAL MEMOIRS:A STUDY IN POLITICS AND LITERATUREbyZOI LAKKASB.A. HONS, The University of Western Ontario, 1990A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OFTHE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OFMASTER OF ARTSinTHE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES(Department of History)We accept this thesis as conformingto the required standardTHE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIAJune 1992Zoi Lakkas, 1992in presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanceddegree at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the Library shall make itfreely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensivecopying of this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of mydepartment. or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying orpublication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my writtenpermission.VDepartment of_________________The University of British &‘olumbiaVancouver, CanadaDate 1L4( /1 1q2DE-6 (2/88)iiABS TRACTA growing number of Soviet political memoirs have emergedfrom the former Soviet Union. The main aim of the meinoirists is togive their interpretation of the past. Despite the personalinsight that these works provide on Soviet history, Westernacademics have not studied them in any detail. The principal aimof this paper is to prove Soviet political memoir’s importance asa research tool.The tight link between politics and literature characterizesthe nature of Soviet political memoir. All forms of Sovietliterature had to reform their brand of writing as the Kremlin’spolicies changed from Stalin’s ruthless reign to Gorbachev’s periodof openness. In order to understand the importance of Sovietpolitical memoir as a research tool, it was necessary to study thepolitical history of control over literature. The analysis wasdivided into chronological periods so that the progressive changeof Soviet political memoir could be shown clearly. The threeperiods were the Stalinist, transitional(under Khrushchev andBrezhnev) , and glasnost.A further aim was to show how Soviet political memoirreflected different attitudes in Soviet society. Stalinist, anti—Stalinist, and glasnost were the three fundamental strands ofthought that prevailed after Stalin’s death. Each of theseattitudes evolved over the three distinct periods examined in thispaper. The manipulation of facts was an essential point of theanalysis. This involved the study of different writing techniquesiiiand interpretations. Socialist Realism served as a yardstickagainst which the memoirs were compared. This literary doctrinesignified the subjection of Soviet literature to political controlof the Party. Six memoirs were studied closely and the influenceof this doctrine in their writing style varied. The power ofSocialist Realism changed as the government’s policies changed.Nikita Khrushchev’s and Petro Grigorenko’s works represented theviews of the anti—Stalinist bloc; Leonid Brezhnev’s and AndreiGroinyko’s memoirs reflected the reaction against anti—Stalinism;Andrej Sakharov’s and Eduard Shevardnadze’s texts showed the viewsof the glasnost group that wanted to look at its nation’s pastcritically. Soviet political memoir went from being scoffed at asa bourgeois preserve, to being manipulated as a political tool byopposing forces, to finally meeting the standards of its Westerncounterparts.These memoirs sketch a complex picture. They tell the readerthat the transition to a new, democratic state is not a simpleprocess since so many groups disagree on the approach. They alsogive a different perspective of Soviet society. The image of amonolithic machine is shattered by the virtual explosion ofpersonal testimonials triggered by glasnost. What is important torecognize is that all the memoirs analyzed here are important inand of themselves. They tell the reader to acknowledge the powerof politics in literature; the interpretation of the past ispredicated on this idea. However problematic it is to acceptSoviet political memoirs as sources of facts, one must overstepivone’s prejudices and realize that they provide a wealth ofknowledge about Soviet politics and history. The task of thehistorian particularly is to understand the political circumstancesthat lay behind the memoir and perceive it as a political creation.VTABLE OF CONTENTSSECTION PAGE1. ABSTRACT2. TABLE OF CONTENTS V3. ACKNOWLEDGEMENT vi4. INTRODUCTION 1-45. THEORETICAL FOUNDATIONS OF SOVIET 5-22LITERARY POLICY6. THE REACTION AGAINST STALINISM: 23-52THE CASE OF KHRUSHCHEV AND GRIGORENKO7. THE REACTION AGAINST ANTI-STALINISM: 53-81THE CASE OF BREZHNEV AND GROMYKO8. GLASNOST: THE CASE OF SAKHAROV AND 82-104SHEVARDNADZE8. CONCLUSION 105-1089. BIBLIOGRAPHY 109-116viACKNOWLEDGEMENTI would like to express my deepest gratitude to Isabelle Baillietwho tutored me in Russian and pushed me to study the languageregularly. Alberto Rubio also was a tremendous help. Hisconstructive criticism improved my writing style radically. Myfamily was constantly behind me in my studies and without theirhard work to serve as an example for me, I could not have aspiredto even approach graduate work. I am, finally, fortunate to havethe loving support of Tim Brown whose ioie de vivre motivated me togive the best of myself to whatever I do.1INTRODUCTIONOne of the most noteworthy developments in Russian literaturesince the death of Stalin has been the emergence of a still growingbody of memoirs as impressive in their overall quality as they arecompelling in their revelations. The primary motive among writerswho have turned to writing memoirs has been the desire to get atthe truth. Unfortunately, their attempts have not been veryconvincing to Western critics. Despite the growing number ofSoviet political memoirs coming out of the Soviet Union, a majorlacuna exists in the analysis of Soviet political memoir as aresearch tool.One of the biggest obstacles that faces reviewers of Sovietliterary work is the tight link between politics and literature.Western readers are reluctant to acknowledge the memoirs’ bona fidestatus since they have traditionally been considered explicitlysubordinate to extra—literary goals. It is by now a commonplace ofWestern histories of the Soviet Union that during the thirties allpublic activity became more highly ritualized and that much of thisactivity was geared to legitimizing the hegemony of the Stalinistleadership that identified its links with Lenin and Leninism.Reviewers are aware that Soviet literature had to pass through themincer of a censorship whose first priority was state security andwhose second was propaganda favourable to the interests of theSoviet Communist Party. This development more or less coincidedwith the institutionalization of a distinctive Soviet literarydoctrine. All literature, including memoirs, became a politicaloCD0U)Cl(I)oH-Cl.-‘di-i-CDH-,0H)HHU)0CDH-H-CDIIIIoClftCDH-Cl-CDCDU)ClClCl-IlCDU)CD0LQCDC)0CDCl)0H-HU)IIClftC)0CD-ftU)z mCl,-i-H)CDCDHCl)HCDrnClClC)ClCD HCDClC)H-0rtClCDU)00rtClClHj CDL_Q‘IHCDH-Il--CDHH-CDftCD IlCDCl)ftCDLQClU)0)(1)CDH-H H-CDU)s-IlftH-Cl0’0CDH‘-Q<ftCDIlCDH-0::3-C)CDU)o“CDIlCDftC) CDCtH-ftCDU)ClHU)•CD‘-<0CDCt 0 0 H 0 H) Ct CD 0) Il ft w Ct Ct CD H Ct CD H ‘0 0 U) (I) 0 H- CD Ct H H Ct CD Il CD Ct II CDE’iOJ Cl 0 0)0 HCl0CDU)Cltbz CD <.0) H Ct0 IlCDCD ‘I HHcnCDH Il U)0CDClZCl‘-xiHIl0(I) U) H CDrtd00 HHH0C)0‘<‘I 00) ft ftH U)ftCDCD‘dCDo’C)U)HçtQ0IlU)C)0CDIl H-U)ftftH-HC)U)Cl0)‘-<HCDH0<‘zIH)IICD0rtClClCDC)dCtIICD00U)<H-,U)HCDClLQ‘-QCDHCDCDU)CDU)II‘t0CDHU)HCDCtCD CtU)CDH-,H-Cl0 ‘IC)CtCD0CtHCDCtU)H)C) H‘-<ftCD H-ftIl CDCDCD•ClU)H-bH-CD0U)bCtftI—’U)‘ICDZftH-CDU)ClCDCDCDU)0‘IC)H-U)U)CDC)ClftCD<.0H000HIlClH‘-<ClCD CD-H--Ci)CDU)0 <0Cl0tH-‘ICDrtCDCDClCDCl CDClCDCD—ClIL,Ci)U)HH--.H-U)H-ftU)H-H-CDClCDC):iU)U)CDHCDClCD C)H-HH-HCD0CDH-CDCDU)HCl •CtH--U)CDH-CDClU)CDHH-.CDlCD‘ICDIlH-.—‘Ct0 U)CDHClH-rtCl0rtCDHH-,<H000IIfti-QCDCDH-CDft<LQ‘-QCDCDCDCD‘1dCD‘dC)C!)CD0)CDCDIlCl-Z‘IC0CDCDftCDdCDHCDI-HftH-IICDCDCDH-CDH-,<H-ClCD0CD00CDU)‘1H)CD10Cl-CDftIlCl)H-CDU)00XftCDCDCDU)H<CD0XH-ClCDClClCDClftIlCDCl)0H-CDHC)H)Ci)rt‘<Cl)HoCDIlClClCDC)0CDCDIIH-ft<Ci)CDCDCDHCl-0CD•CDft<H HH-U)CD‘-QftIiCDftCDrtIlCDCD<CD0H-0)CDftCDClft0CDH0)CDCDCDCtC)U)ft0 H)CD0CDCDftCi)IlftH-0)H)ftHHCl-0CD00ftHIl‘IClH-Cl‘-d‘10HCDIl0CD‘-QU)CD-CD0CDCDHClClClftH0CDH-CD<CDHc-tCDCDCflCDCDC)ftCtCl<ftU)CDH-IlCDHHH-CDCDHCDft°U)HCDftU) ftU)H-‘ICDH)IlCDCDH-CD0•CDIIH0ft0)0H-H-ClftCDH)CDC?)H)H-<0CDH-U)CDCDH-0ftClClHCDftClU)3memoirists, I hope that the stratification of Soviet society willbe understood. Specifically, the memoirs will not be treated asrepositories of facts but as mirrors of certain social values. Theway the past is interpreted by the meinoirists tells the reader agreat deal about the political situation at the time their memoirswere written and published. This new approach in the study ofSoviet political memoir will contribute to our understanding ofSoviet society and its internal conflicts since Stalin’s death.The close historical union between politics and literaturemakes Soviet political memoir a powerful instrument in the study ofpost—Stalinist society. Leaders of all statures, particularlysince Stalin’s demise, strove to give their version of historythrough the filter of official policy. The political status of theauthor often influenced his interpretation of events. If thememoirist was an ousted national leader or a disgruntled politicaldissident, his version of the past probably would differ markedlyfrom a retired statesman with a polished record. According toGeorge Egerton, “War, revolution, and the attendant dramatic socialand personal dislocations no doubt served as major stimuli to theproduction of memoir literature, with exile or loss of powersometimes inspiring the most impassioned apologias.”2 Sovietpolitical memoir accomplished these functions but it also facedadded pressure from the state. It is precisely this intimaterelationship between politics and literature in Soviet literary2George Egerton, “The Lloyd George War Memoirs: A Study inthe Politics of Memory”. Journal of Modern History. 60(March1988), The University of Chicago, 55.4history that distinguishes Soviet political memoir from its Westerncounterparts. An awareness of the literary controls that liebehind the memoirs should unveil a plethora of knowledge aboutSoviet political history. In this paper, I will show first howSoviet political memoir performs the same functions as its Westerncounterparts and then clarify the messages that can be gleaned fromthese distinctive works. My primary goal is to prove Sovietpolitical memoir’s importance as a research tool.ODQa-i-’U)C.I Ct)C)C))Q.tiJCtCtC)H))t))0HQCl)HhQCtH-U)H-CD01CDHH-0CDH-0H-H-H-CtU)EnCl)XH-C)El)HCtI))En<CtC)Ct((1CDC)CI)CtCtCtQCI)CtCDH-<0H-CDHCt00CD<0HCDH-CC)‘1En‘CttEn20II<U)hl))C)EnCtCDH-HH-<t5CtHC)IIH-l)’H-U)HCD0H-H‘-<CDtiCtCDNCDCt0CD0H-HCI)CDCDCtCDH-P.CDcnCDI-g0‘-ICDI-CDH-CDCtCtCI’-0CDQCtCDCt-‘CDCt°iICtCDi-i-t-t-CDCDCt‘1Ht-ICtCDCI)‘1CI)CDCD0 CI)H-C)H-IC)CDCDCtEn0CtCDHCI’CDH-,CDU)0H-HCtHCT)CtH-Eni.QCDEnH-U)LQHH-CI)0Ct‘-iI-EnU),CDCDHH•hCDC)HH-0I-I-H-0CDC)CD-CDCDCD0CtCD-H-0.CtCDH-H-H-U)C)xH-CDH-CtH<CI)I)I-’-CI)CtCt.CtCDCtH-CtHCDC)CDCtEH-C)0CI)0CD0::CDHH‘1CI)CI)CIEndCtEH-CDCtCDH-CI)CD0CtEnCD<CDU)cN<U)HHOCDEl)CtCtCtCDCIU)H-,CDCD-H-i-°HH-CDCDCICDQH-H-QCD0cnoCt00C)H)0CtCDHEnCt‘1Ct00CtHCI)HU)H-<CD-En CtCICD<H-H-HC)00CDCtH0-CI)00CDCI)ZH<EnH-”CtCt,1CtCtCtCD0Ct0U)CD0CDU)H0H-CDCDH--,CDCl)U)CDH-H-U)U)H-CtCtCtHIOH-U)NCt‘-C)0H-0‘-10Z1H-CD(1)CD.U)II-hiCD<CD•CDQCDEnH-CI)H-CI<H-<CtCtH- 0H-LQCtC)CDH-CDU)H-CI)0h-°CDCI)H-C)10-Ct,CDEnCtHH<0<H-HCDHU)U)•U)tNCtH-CI-’C)C)CT)-CDH-H)H-H-0‘d0CtCtCD0C)HHU0CDCI)Ct-HHH-11a<Ct0CI)0‘-QCI)HHHC)°-HiiCDCDCI)p,-H-H-H-U)U)H-U)U)HCD0H-H-CDCDEnH-0CtC)CD:i.CICtU)-H)CtCtH-00H-HCDZCDH--EnI-‘ZIHU)0CDCtC)HOCDH)10‘1CtH-0-CtH-CD-CDCI)CI)H-U)Ct0C)H-b0CDCt0C)ICD00CD0IICI)CH-CI)CtCD0I-hCt<PCt••CDH‘-<HCtCtU)CtU)CtCDHCDUiIn II- IF”H-HF”IftED0C)C))EflHH-EnH)0CDH)H-H)C))ftLQQH-IF-”CDH-OCDC))H)XC))U)C))i-”QEnU’iotCDC))ct‘-Qft<C))C)HC)C)EnQCDEnOLCEniH-CDH-ctftftEnftftH-C)C)cQC)H-H-CDHEflftCflCDEEnH-H<QHCDH)H‘tift‘<CDft‘ICDH0H)C)JEnHH-H1H-0CDU’0HH-ft1C1w0EnC))CDC)CDEnCD1H)HH-CD0-H-EnH-ftC))ftHCDH-C)H-hC))C)HCliCDHC)H-C)CDCDHC))C)’C))frotCD“CDC)ClH-C)CDftftEnHC))(DH-HEnH-Cl.-.Hft0H-C)iQQH-U)CD0CD-::.oCD00-t-ClH)EnN•‘CD-ICD0gH-CDCD•i-HCD-H-O-H-1ftEn(1)U)•H)—ftH)ftC))ftcH-CD•ft-ftC)H-EnftHCDF><CDH-ftEn<C)CDH-CDCDHCDftCDftC))CC)ftH-H-oH)ftQQCDH-H-ft-C))II:H)H0EnCDCDCDU)oEnCDHft0CDCDH-HHftHftC))0CD,CDCDCDH-H-0H)nCDEnIIIH-CDH-0CDH-<ClC)),CDC)ftfr0ftftCDH-0I-ftH-C)ft<oCDkH)CD0‘ftEnCDCDHi•ft‘.<U)ftCDCfH-CDC))EnH-H-I--O0CDftftU)C)EnHEnftEnEnC)EnftHHH0CD-EnftCDCDCDHU)OEnC))HEnHH)H-CDC)H-0-H-F”CDQOC)0EnH-CDft‘<F”U)CDH-ao-El)ClCD0wftftCDCDOft0H-hH-H)•ClCD0C)H-En0ftrnH-io—ftC)H)EnftH)F”H-H-ClHtYC))ft<C))C))HOC)ozftHC).’H-CDCD,EnHftCDHEn0H-‘<CD:CD‘<Cli.QftftftNtH-0’H-C))CDCDC))HCDF” ftF0’CDCDC).’0H00HhC)’C))0-‘.0‘1En><ftftH-‘-QH-H-CiCi-CDEn0C)ft-CDft00EnCDCDCiH-0Ciftt-ftL.QEnft0CD0CDH0H-El)Clg.CDnCD<ftUCDHI”CDo•EnflH•EnHEnftftQt-’HHft0U)ftH-CDC)CDCi0H-0Cl)ftH-CDC)H-CDC)C).HftCDC))EnI-ftOCDQ‘<H-H-0‘-<ClftftCD0F”CDft1C)CDH-0C))C))CD0En0ClU)C))‘-<00001H-ftH-ClCDCDH0ftHi-i’i-t,ft,ClftCDk<CDF-H H U) CD U) H ‘.0 —.1 H --3 0• HtJ) CD H CD C) H ‘0 U) 0 CD H ‘1 H IH-)1i1—L:iCD11HE5D)HQbH-i)0U)H-)C)c-I-hU)CD)CDEl)Q.CD00bC)U)U)d0CDCD—.il)’1D)CDQ.CDU)iCDH-dU-H-H)c-IH-H-H-CDU)H-LQLQHl)C)50CDHXHEn‘1‘10C)CDCDCDU)1c-I-HU)CDftU)Nc-I-WCDCD0c-I-c-I-C)><CDC)0P-c-I-CD00‘-QCl)H-H-C)H-çtH)0c-I-H-H-H-l))<1CD-.YHc-I-H-U)C)H-CDH-(I))HCDU)0U)c-i-HC)U)çtCDH-H-PCDc-I--H-H1<c-i.<QCDCDH1c-I-CDU)CDCDCD0H-HU)‘<CDHU)(-I-CDUi--c-I-ctC)E)U)CDQCDC0c-I--Jc-i-HCl)CD0HCDH,HU)c-H-I-IHU)(_)U)CDHCDH,HCDH-U)c-In)H-HZ-H-CDc-IC))•CD0CDCDH-C)H-•C)-H-CDcH-iH,H-c-I-U)CDH-H-H-H-H)n)C)-CDftc-I-c-I-c-IC))c-I-0C)Cl)U)U)CD<c-i.c-H-H-d00CDC))c-I--CDH0ac-Iftc-IZH-CD‘c-I-Q.H-CDCDU)CD,LQCDI-hCDc-C))l-U)H-H-ftc-IHH-çfHc-I-H-CDQc-IHCDC)0U)H•c-I-nU)c-I-Hc-I-CDc-I-H-CD0n)CD0H-c-I-•C)b-CDc-IC)C)HU) 0tI-Ic-I-0CDU)C))c-i.CDc-I-C))fr0H-Hc-I-HH,CtCDH-QH,CDH-H-CDCDH-C)CDI-H-CDH0CDH- C)CDCDftftHn)U)(1)n)HCDHCDHHCDH-CDCDCDU)H-0H‘U)n)H<CDc-I-H’C)C)0n)H-CDCDZCDH-C))-C)jQc-I-C))I-0c-I-0C))U)H-U)hIIH--‘•dHCDQ.-XH,<c-Ic-I-0H-CDC))H0H-H-H-CDH-U)c-IC)CDU)0CDHC)C)H-H-CDCDC)HCDc-I-p.H‘.c-I-U)H-0c-iC))H1-hIC)c-,.U)C))0It-fF-H-1HHU)c-I-0C))IC)-00c-I-U)ic-i-00H’ftH-c-I-H’CDU)lCDCDc-I-1U)-<CDH-U)11t-’<0c-ICDh1C))CDC)H-CDx‘-j-‘-s-c-I-H-I-CDHH-U)H-CDH-CDU)H’C)çtHCDU)CD0c-I-C))c-ICDHH-00c-I-c-Ic-I-CDHHHH-0c-IH-0H-QC)HhftU)Ht’CDU)c-I-CDQCDHCDc-I-U)0H-U)•CDnHCD0CDC)H-c-i.)(1)xCDCDCDH’U)c-II-I-0U)C)U)c-I-C)ClCDCDCDc-I-H0I-c-I-H-1-Ic-IC))c-I‘.QC))C))H-C))C))Ilc-IH-CDc-I-H-$c-I-U)Hc-I-<t-I‘<CD‘<CDc-I-Q,U)•c-I‘-<<U)ClClCDc-I-CDCI)I—3H c-I-CD C)) c-I H- 0 C)) H‘0H H H rt 0 x H En rt CD 0 Ui Ui1t3CDHEnOr’-EnCD0-iI--HzEno:-ri0rtEflCDCDo IJ)rtI CDHLEnk<lEnCDcn HH0En En-I1HOHrt(DEfl1OC)CDCDCDCDCD$))CDo—-EniI-.H-0r1dCt<0LQEnCDCDH)0EnCtCDH-CD0i0ClC)‘I0iClCD<)H-0rtH-iiH-‘100<CDCDCDH-HjEnX0CDH-LQHEnCt0•HEnHCDH-EnCtEnH-00‘1CDCt0tH-0Ct)En-rtH-CtHHH<ClEnCtoH0CDCD0H-CDHH<<HOCDEnHH-CtHEnEl)H-•CtCt):EnICDCDCtCDh0CD0CD<Ht-_jCtCDi-H-CtC)CD::5.0ClCDEn0H.EnCDCD(flo.H-CtHCtCDEnH-CDH-CDCDCDEnCDH.CtEn00H-H‘1000HHHWCtCtEnCDH-HCDCDHX‘IH0-ClEnEnQZCDCtEnCDEn00ClCtClCD0CtCtCtCD0H-0CDH-ClCD0)CDCDH-Ct<CtIIEn‘jHCDCDCtxj-:CtCl‘-t-CDH-CDCDHCtCD00CD0HCE)H0CDCDCDH0CtEn(t•En-CD<CDH-ClClH-Ct-H CtH<ClCD0CD00H-H-CDH-HHCtClox0HClClClUiCt: :0CtCDCDH-Ct0ClEnH-CDH-H-Ct0CDCDCDCthEl)EnCDCtH-El)‘z5qEn-CD•0CtCD0HEl)H-0Cl•CD:iCt1H-CtCtCDHFl0<CtHxjH-FlCD-Cl<CDD)H-H-0H-0ClClEnCtHCDFlCtHEnCDHFl0CtCDCtHClHCDHCDEl1CtCtCt<Ct0H-‘CtCDClH-CDCtCtFl-En0-HFl)Q)0CDHEn0CD0EnyCtCDCtCDH-CtCt0HFlFlQ.EnCtEnH-1CtCDCt0CtFl0CtCDCtEncn)CDrtCDH-H--)L,Q3HCDCtCD1En0FlCtCtH-HCD0CtHEnFlCDEnFl‘OOH-0EnEnClHICDEnCDEnCloHH-CtHC)cnH,En..CDClFl0Ct0Fl0Ct0F-JFlOH--3ClFlCD0-CtCtHH-H3—0ClD)n0CDCDCt.•“CDoCDCtCDH-CDCDH‘1CD—’CDCDEnClEnCDClFlFlCtClLClCtCx)9world.”11 If “political correctness” is desirable, opentendentiousness is not, and in any case, as Mathewson illustrates,Marx and Engels repeatedly stressed that a work of art must in theend be measured against the excellence of Shakespeare, orRembrandt, or Dante.12As the process of literary debate among Marxists evolved inthe Soviet Union after the Revolution, these quiet buttressesagainst an entirely politicized literature were in fact thrownaside. Although many of the early Bolsheviks, including Plekhanov,Lunarcharsky, Trotsky, and Voronsky, were, like Marx and Engelsthemselves, men broadly educated in the Western cultural tradition,men who shared a respect for the writer and the special problems ofartistic production, the mood in the Soviet Union of iconoclasm andcrisis, the accession of the semi—literate to power, and theBolshevik emphasis upon the revolutionary aspect of Marxist theory,eventually combined to favour the manipulation of literature as apurely political and ideological tool.Propelled by the urgency to replace literature of theprerevolutionary political social order with a literature thatreflected and promoted the new social relationships and ideals ofSoviet society, Russian literary critics and theorists began tostress one side or the other of Marx’s two—pronged approach tohuman experience: Marx the philosopher, the interpreter of theMathewson, “Positive Hero”, 128.12bjd 129—131.Ct CD (I) 0 0 H Ct I-, CD CD 0 H H 01c3CI)IHDIiDCDH-000JIU1-cIWflH-0CDH-H-N•DiCtCDCDCD0H-)CtCtC)CtOHD)Ht-WHHH101HH.H.0HCDHDCDcCtctwH)(tQH.CDCDH-(i)10CtCt0CtWCtH-CtD-.CtctQ)MD)..<0oHCDH-iI-Ht’I”C)6co:ic:s°t(flCD1H-0<Hw0HCDQ)CDCDH0CtU)<CtHC).<-Oc:CDc:0HU)‘<CD1CDH-H><c:CtH--I—<Hn)H-H.H-ctCt(-10CD01CDtcCDHJEn-CD0-P)Q.,EncI)CDCtH-4-EJ)0DCDc:0O1H-<H.CtD)l‘..D OH-‘1CDrJH--D)jQOo-.Ct ‘H‘HCDU)jnU)Q0LT1>Cl)H-Ct.0fli—HCt0H(QHH.IIH-0I-H‘dr-bCJ)OXjQHc:CDEJDJ00HH-O)H-(fl(fl(flCtHDQ.’-<QNH-H-Z0—iCDCD<n)CD0--.1CDH)••<U)H0CtH‘i0D)Ct0EnCDCDI-HU)H-H-0))iCD0H-0$))0H-)CtCDCtfrH-IIH-01CtctQ.CDU)HCDHU)H-0‘1Ct0Ct‘<CD0.C))0c:C))ZC))CtU)-‘‘xjCDH-11H-CtCDCtHCD<H-00H-tSI•1C))H--<CtCD-.0CtCDU)CDU)H-U)00EnU)0U)QH<CtCDCDCDEl)CtHCD-0,Ct0CDHCtCtHU)H-CDH-000CtCt<0CDCDCtQHH-<CtCDH-.-i-CDC))HCtCD-CDCDCtCt0C))0CD0HCt.-CtCtCtH-0CtQ.-c:CtiCtCDHH-‘CD-1<LQHC))xC))Ct0C))Cl)U)U)H-CtH-oCDCtCtHCtCDCtCtCtC))CDH-C))Ct1CDC))c:Ct0CD0CtCDEncnH-CDCDCDH-H-CDEl)CtCtCDo‘<CtCtCDcn‘H(-tn‘Ec:C!)CDCt00CDH-C))CDCl)CD0C)QCtHH)c:CDHCDH-CtCD-<w•0c:-CtctCDc:H-Ct0C))CtC)H-U)C))HCDCtCtH0Ct()CDHPH-t0•—CD-Ct-iHU)CtCtH-CD<<HHC))CD0)C))30H-HiC))HH-Ct1:-I0CtCtCtQ.H-C))H-CDCtCDCDCt1H-CDH)-C))0<CC)CDCtH-‘1-CtCDCDH-c:CtHC))0CC))Ct0CtH)1QH)Cl)CDH)Ct0XCD‘1H-ICDHQHH-CtH-H-H-CtCtCDU)C))CtC)00ClCtCtCt.<U)CH-CtCtCD0U)0NCtC))C)’H-Cl)CtCDHH-HU)<0-<<Ct0‘<CDII0CtH-C))CDCl)H-CD-HCDHH)CDCt0HCl)Ct0C))IU)H-<ClCtCt0CtC))H-00H-CtH-H-C)H-0Cl)0H-t-U)‘1CDH<HCD1H)U)-<Ct•CtCDHCDCDCD011party literature” and said that partiinost in literature means thatliterary affairs “must become a part of the general proletariancause.. . a part of organized, systematic, united Social Democraticparty work.”17 Yet some authors dissent from this, by maintainingthat this article is not the best example of Lenin’s views onliterature. According to Bullitt, for example, “Lenin intended thearticle to be interpreted in a more narrow fashion as applying onlyto party literature and its subordination to party control.”18 Shemaintains that Lenin’s sentiments as to the proper relationship ofthe party to literature are more clearly expressed in two documentswhich he wrote or drafted in 1920: on Proletarian Culture and Onthe Proletkults. The first document presented Lenin’s dictum thatall organizations engaged in cultural activity “must be penetratedwith the spirit of the proletarian class struggle,”19 while thelatter established in what fashion official legislation wouldsupplement the process of education and experience out of whichproletarian culture was to develop. In any case, all authors agreethat he was the harbinger of subjecting literature to the influenceof the Party, to be used as an ideological weapon. As a result ofthis politicization, in 1934 the Soviets developed threefundamental standards for estimating the merit of a literary work:the truthfulness, or party-minded spirit of the work’s portrayal ofreality, the work’s pedagogic potentiality, and its intelligibility17cited in Swayze, “Political Control”, 8.18Bullitt, “Toward a Marxist Theory”, 69.19Ibid., 70.12to the broad masses —— all prerequisites for transformingliterature into a serviceable social tool. In terms of Sovietdoctrine, literature became an adjunct to politics and pedagogy, asugar coating on the pill of knowledge and morality. Consequently,the theory that politics has a profound impact on literature becamethe thesis that politics is the essence of literature.It must be observed that this doctrine emphasized publicideals over personal beliefs: writers were expected to adhere toa shifting program and to cultivate a blind faith in the rightnessof the party, whose determinations of truth (like its evaluationsof literature) could change radically from time to time. Whatseemed an arbitrary identification of writers’s subjectivedispositions with the party ideology became an additionalrationalization for insisting that works be written to reflect theparty’s views and revised to keep pace with its fluctuating line.That the subordination of the claims of self—expression to those oforthodoxy has impaired the quality of Soviet literature isabundantly demonstrated by Soviet literary criticism itself. Theconflict between these claims is a main current in Soviet literarypolitics.More crucial to the present study, however, is not so muchwhether Soviet theory prevents literature from approachingphotographic objectivity as it is one of whether the political andmoral didacticism required by theory is compatible with depictingthe myriad facts of human life. Soviet writers, memoiristsincluded, were continuously reminded that, while they must reveal13life in all its diversity, their principal aim was to portrayreality in its “revolutionary development,” that is, in adidactfully purposeful manner.The doctrine which is responsible for welding politics toliterature on any official level is “Socialist Realism”. AndreiZhdanov’s speech to the First Writers’ Congress in 1934 isgenerally considered among the first public pronouncements of thisdoctrine. Although the purpose of the newly created Union ofWriters was to ensure a degree of freedom and tolerance denied toauthors from the late 1920s to 1932, members were also under aformal obligation to write in accordance with Socialist Realism.20The exact meaning of this term is difficult to determine due to theextensive ground it covers. Perhaps official statements of thedoctrine would help one comprehend what the Soviet writer wasrequired to do:Socialist Realism, the basic method employed by Sovietartistic literature and literary criticism, demands fromthe writer an authentic, historically specific depictionof reality in its revolutionary development. Thisauthenticity and historical specificity in the depictionof reality should be combined with the task ofideologically reshaping and educating the toilers in thespirit of socialism. 21So Socialist Realism does not define a genre, style or school: itis much more all-embracing than that. It is, apparently, a“method,” which has been adopted in numerous and diverse worksenjoying the irnprirnatur of Soviet publishing houses. Such20Hingley, Russian Writers, 39.21IbjdCJDIIH-(fl-EnH-c-f-CDHEnitCD0-H-CD‘-IIHEnc-f-ot:-1‘‘H0iQHCDC)c-f-Ij-3CDHCD0D)I0HJD)<0it‘j..-HCDoH‘c-f-ICDCDH(flD0EnCDitrCDHX0r,HHC)HCD0D)Jo0ct.jHo-.!DiEn C)HOHH c-f-HH-EnC)CDQHIILQ0.’DIDiwr-HCDHc-tCDH-_(I)CDH0c-fH-DiitCD3IEnEnD)OEnEnHit<H-I-’-HDiCDDID)EnCD’---c-1-tCDQ.’0.’DiflC)ClHlH-‘dDibC)Di0‘-0CDH-0H-DiDIDiCD0t-0HCDddEnCD<DIC)IIc-f-0.’c-f-iiCDH-H-c-f-H-‘1itLQICc-f‘lc-f-H-ClbCDt-C)0CDDiDi10.I-.’-fr0En00H-itI-CDc-tC)c-f-DII0CD0it00C)H-itEnDiitCD‘-QICc-f-DIH-HEnDi0H-HC)CDEnCDEnc-f-‘dH-Itn‘-<EnCDH-H0‘-lit1EniCi—ic-f-c-f-DiHH’EnDI0DIP.’DIDICc-f-<h.<I.<H’C)Ic-f-EnHCD0Di,H-H0CDEnCDEn.‘CDQDI‘dH’0DiCE)itH-ClH-EnCDit<‘-0c-f-CD‘ijitC)Q)t-C))CDCDCD10CDH’CDH-En‘-HCDCDCDCDitHEnc-f-CDc-f-DI-0DIc-f-ititCD H’CDH-D)ICDitCDH-,c-‘-1CD0H’H<HCDIH-H0.’it,<HCriCDCDHPCDEn(flCD<CDc-f-CD0HH-Clit0itIIC)it‘-<CDC)CDc-f-CDCD-EnC)it‘H-HiQHClH-CDc-H-itD)0C)t-0C))QitHH-DiH-itCDIH0ClitZHititH-0H-EnEnH-CDH-CD0.’En0itCDZititc-f-it(flClitCDClc-f-HCl,.QbH-H-EnDICD-CDbCDC)itC)<itit‘CDZQCDitEn0.’HCDC)En0c-i-CDX:0HDiHCDititH-HCDH-CDH-H-EnCD0:.H-EnDICl1itOEnCD80CDitZitCDC)H,‘oH-EnDiCDH00H’CDCDHCDDIHc-f-DiH-hC)C)HCDH-CDD)C)0H0EnCH-CDH--DiHitDi‘1.‘it.‘itEnCDDIEnDiH-DiDiH0EnDiCD‘<CDH-Q,EnQ.’it0.’‘1DI00H10H-ititEnH,HC)CDH-IDIHH°H’CDCDititCDH-H-DiHDIH-itCl-CDH-CDClHlitCDDiQCDitCDH-‘-<‘H--CDc-:C)H-HCl<itDiC)CDiHitCDCDEnH)itCDDIC)H-H-i0CD0H0HDIitH-EnH-ClDiHEn10itCDiDiDiDI jC)DiDiClHHlo.’CDH-DI—,.<::EDH-CDititDIc-i-:CD‘ditH-0CD‘Clit0IllEnH’CD‘<C)C)Di<1iiEnDiEn‘ilitCDb.’CDClH-0‘l0C)H-HH-H-0DiHC)CDEnH-HitH-ititflH-I—’-C)DIH-EnDIitH-0CDDiH-C)(Dc-f-DiititDiH’it<IIH-H-HbhH-CDH-LCD‘-HCDEl)HLOEnH0CDitDIit<HClHClCD-HCDCD0CDH’En-.‘<EnCDCDEnEItIC)1ctI-HQ)(Dc-s.CDHEnCDfrH-El)Q—b-r’j- HO)D) oH--D)1_H01‘-3wCDt-oCDcnH-H-c-ftH-H-<Q.,D)CDLQc-I.H-CDCiri-ct-t<CDCDoEnC!)HH-EnoH-o‘c-s.’°CDCDft‘IftCDc-s.”0 HCD-iCiEnCDP)fttn-Enc<oH tDCiCD‘—.1<HCDCD—--CDH-CDW IDH-CDW •1:-IlnH)H-0)H-ftrtftCD1’<C’-) 0 H- CD c-s.0)H H-ftc-I. CDCDt- 01ftc-s. CiCDI-oCD—CD c-I.H0)C)hH-C)0)Cl)EnH 0o H-,HC) oC) 0CiCDH-t:iEnftc-I.En0)0)CT)C)EnHc-I.Q HCD‘<ft H- C) En En 0) H c-s. 0) c-I.oftdEnCi0CD0ft0)H0)H-H-CDHftQH-Hc-I.t.Q() 0)dc-CDH0)0’cn EnQc-s.ft0,t<0)0)C)Cic-EnH0fti-0I-’-Ci::3—I-’-CD0CDftF-CDCDH-•H-ftc-I.H-‘0)0)Cl)(1)F-0C)ftQ,C)H-ftCDH.-H-tiq0)C)•H-:Ij:ft<t-ftCD00H-) H--CD0)H-,H-CDH,—0H-CDi-tnHmCD-CDI-.’<0)EnCDH-CD0)dCl)CDftHHH-<CDZftCD-C)EnH-CDft0)dHCDCDCDH0’tiH-EnC)EnH,Q0’ Clo0’oCDH-,‘1 CDftIftCDoC)H-HZCDCDEn‘<Enco000H)<<H-H-EjiCDCD0ftftC) H-od0)En0oHftHHH-H-H-EnftftftEH-H-CDC)cn0)pCDftHH0)CDHtiC)H-CiCDtnH ft0CiH-HtiEn0)‘-dCDj0)ft0)0) ft 00)ftH-H-ftoCiCD HCDCDEnEn-ftCD)cn ftClCDH-)‘1LQC)ftCDI.—CJCDCl CDF-’ti0)EnftftCiCD0)ti‘1tTCD0)0 Ci0ftH)t:-H‘.QCDH-CDftH-CDCDI•0)0)tiH<HC) 0,0)El) CD‘-‘CDCiHCDCD c-H-HH-0)EnC)El)0)0Cl H-C1H-EnCDC)ftCiH-EnHtnEn-H-ftftoCDCD0) Cl0)o H)tQ‘<En0CDI—’CDH-ftClC)CD oftCl H-CD0EnftEnHH-CDC) 0),-CDHhI H-H)ftoCDCirClClCl0)0)ft(-)hIH- oF-’bEncn‘-<ftCioftEn CD0 ‘-ItYEn H-o HftH-0Ci CD0C) H o:tQ‘-ICiH-CDftEn,EnHCDCl Ci EnHH)H H)HCDH HCDEnHCDCD-CD H-Ci ftCD H-,C)H0CDItSC)<ft Ci 0)H-Hft CD hI Ii)Clftc-s.H-0)EnCDEnCD00)IIEnEn‘-<‘<CDftCDH0’Cl0)-‘HftICl0)Cl0)H-CD‘-IEnEl)hiCD0)0)0H<ftft_-QCiCDEnCDCD•CihiC)CDCD0)o-hiCDH-H-H-ftftEnH-0)H-ftH-)CDH-H-Enl<0EnH-CiftEn00)H-Hi1En0)ClClCl—ftQ (NEnC)H(N,-H-ftHhIft.C)H-CDH-CDI-IiCD0)ftClhiH-H0)EnzCl H)CiCDCD0)ft0H,.EnhiCDCDH-QH<•H)CiH-juH-EnCDEnH-Q-,-,0)•0)Cl)ftH-Cl)CDfthi)H-H-H-hiCDtnCDftHCl)bft‘-<0) HCDEn 0 En ft 0) hiHt< CD 0)En CDEl) 0 R 0) H H-0)EnXftHCD 0) H H-0)Enhi EnH CDH) H) CDCJC)EnftH-C)ft0 z0)Enft CDH-HCl0116a ‘good’ work of art is one that supports Communism, anda ‘bad’ work one that either does not do it or does ithalf-heartedly, they would have avoided many furthertroubles 24The diagnoses are, of course, quite correct, as far as theygo. The extent to which the party manipulated literary output canbe judged by the merest glance at the long list of independentlythinking writers who were forced to devote themselves to journalismor translation, to fall silent, or were even physically liquidated:Babel, Zamyatin, Bulgakov, Mandel’shtam, Pasternak, Akhmatova,Zoshchenko —- most of the major names of the twenties and thirties.The most dramatic episode in this phase of regimentation occurredwhen Boris Pilnyak and Yevgeny Zamyatin were subjected, in 1929, toa ferocious campaign of vilification in the media and in publicmeetings for having published ideologically inadequate works, andoutside the USSR at that: Pilnyak’s story Mahogany and Zamyatin’sWe. The affair is notable as the first full—scale Soviet literarywitch—hunt —— a process whereby pre—selected scapegoats werepublicly denounced (often in pairs) as a device for discipliningthe writing fraternity in general.The history of political control over Soviet literature isrepresented by the countless lists of writers who succumbed to thepower of the Party. The overall picture of Soviet literary outputis a very dismal one since writers were coerced into expressing anofficially-approved model of their work. Alexander Fadeyev’s Young24Marc Slonim, Soviet Russian Literature: Writers and Problems,1917-1977, hereinafter cited as Slonirn, “Soviet RussianLiterature”(New York: Oxford University Press, 1977),164-165.U)0ftftCDH-‘1t’ft‘-‘i0IHHI-0QIG)0P)010CD1-bICD‘..DCD0HCDIriC)ft1CDCDU’CDU)ii—’<U)I-”H-U)CDC)hCDCDftHftIftCD0’H,CD‘TjH-frC!)U)U’ftCD<H0ftIHH,U).QIQ.I-”i-U’U’U)CD•HH,0HCDHH-IIHCDH-iIH0ftU)<(1)H,CDU)lU’01ftCDHU)0HHH,H-0U’ C2C)‘H-H,CDHH-U)0ftH-CDCD000H-C)LCDftIU)C)bftUU’U)ftU)U)i-H-INft‘dH-H-HU)U)IILQQh0Ht<00H,U’H-CDHH-IH-CDU’H-‘1CDU)U’CD•CD<U’H,CDNftINU)C)x0ftH>U)CD0U)H-U)“iU)CDbU’ftCDU)U)CD0C)HCDU)ftC)U)ft<U)H,CDC)U)HH-CT)•CDCDU’<0H.0U)CDH,ftCDC)CD<0HH,U)CDU’U)CDCDU’U)0‘CDCDU)0<-CDU)°H,-C)H<U’H-H-dH-HU)CDCDH-CDIoCDU)U)0CD0‘1CDUI0HftQFCDCDU)H-HH-U)ft00H,U)H,HQICDCDHU)CDftH-H,CDCDU’0CDCDCDHC)U)o‘-U’‘1CDHC)U)ftx0H-•H<H-HHHftH-CDftCDCDCDoCDCDftH-00U)U’U)HFl)CDft0H,H,ftCD0H,iH,U’-U’1°H-HC)U)CDCDH-0H,0‘dftCD0H,H-HIftftftU)C)‘.<CDCD1H-lCDCDftftICDZCDU)z1fti.<CD--0HCDCDH-0U)CD-‘1U)HPH-0CD-H,ftH0U)ftP1U’zCDU)HU)U’H‘jH-H-U)H,IHC)‘1lU)U’0C)0k<LQH-Hfl0CDftH-ftftftU’CDlCDH,i-CDC)ftCDU)ft‘1i.CDCDHU)ftH-U)CDU’HU’HI0-C)-CD13CDU)Mftft1CDHU’U)CD0H-U’:.H-I8•CD?JftH-H-0U)HwU)ft0H-0U)N0U)U)0bU)CDCDftHWH-‘d0CDCDHftCDftU)ftXH0H-H-ftftU’CD0U’ftftCD0U)CDH,ftH-C)U)CDH,ftCDiiftU’U’HCDH-CDU’U)CDHHHU)<CDCDU)‘1ftCDCDCDHU)ftCDCD0CDI-0C)CDCDCDCDCD0H-CDU’H,U’CDC)‘1HH,C)CDHpU’‘CDHftH-00ftH-H-ZCDU)hCDftU)dH-aCDH1U)CDNftftF!)Cl)U)H-‘..DLQHft0CD‘<CDH-CDH-N01ftZCDH-•<CDCDft<0U)ftCD0U)HHH-CD-0H-U)H-U’CDIIH(I)•H,Z<‘-QQH,<U)U)HZ(UftCD18extreme individualism. Condemnation centred principally on hisstatement “I am unhappy and I don’t know why.”26 An outburst ofpublic criticism occurred not long after the final instalment ofthe memoirs had been suppressed. Zoshchenko was accused ofoccupying himself with philistine emotions and interests andignoring social forces and the great events of the time. The workwas discussed by the presidium of the Writers’ Union andcriticized at the Ninth Plenum. Ultimately, ZoshchenJco facedpublic humiliation and a forced reinoulding of his work.Even more revealing in some ways was the attack on KonstantinFedin’s Gorky Amongst Us, a projected three—volume memoir.Criticism was initially directed at the second volume, whichappeared in 1944. The final instalment was not published. Pravdaopened the onslaught in an article which described Fedin’s work as“a deeply apolitical book, in which events of the literary worldare shown torn from life, closed off in a sphere of narrowprofessional interests and relations” a book of “highlyquestionable ethics and distorted perspective.”27 These chargeswere echoed at a meeting of the presidium of the Writers’ Union,where Fedin was charged with neglecting the historical politicalsetting of the period he described and with being “objective,”“dispassionate,” and “tolerant” toward reactionary writers. Thus,Fedin manifested the same malaise as did Zoshchenko: lack ofpolitical consciousness and incipient individualism. But Fedin26Ibid., 30.27Ibid., 30—31.19went a step further, for he raised the whole issue of the nature ofliterature and the function of the writer, and in doing so, hecalled into question certain hallowed tenets of Soviet literarytheory.The grave situations faced by memoirists such as Fedin andZoshchenko served to limit the production of memoir literatureunder Stalin’s reign. Instead of facing the wrath of the Party andbeing accused of writing bourgeois, individualist material, writersrefrained from writing their reminiscences in any appreciablemanner. Beyond the public show trials that many authors faced, thefear of death was an even greater obstacle. According to JanosBak, the nature of the Soviet system of succession during theStalinist period made the writing of memoirs by prominent politicalfigures unlikely. “However pedestrian this observation may sound,”Bak contends “that a practical reason for the lack of politicalmemoirs in the Communist world was exactly the fact that importantleaders usually served to the natural or —— more frequently ——violent end of their lives and had no physical chance to writeabout their time in office in retrospect.”28 Thus, what remainsfor the historian are the memoirs of a very few old Bolshevikswritten just after the Revolution. Of particular significance arethose of the Revolutionary and Party administrator, Vladimir BonchBruevich. He was very close to Lenin during the revolution and hisworks on Lenin are very important, particularly for the period28Janos Bak, “Political Biography and Memoir in TotalitarianEastern Europe.” Manuscript, University of British Columbia, 1990,2.201917—1924. There are several collections of his memoirs, such ashis 3spominaniya (Moscow, 1968). With the exception of Trotsky’s,memoirs from other early Bolsheviks are difficult to find. Perhapsthe turmoil of the Revolutionary and War periods did not allow themenough time to write down their thoughts.There also appears to be a handful of memoirs written byrelatively unknown people. Rossiya Elktricheskiya VospominiyaStare5shikh Elektrikov gives a glorified account of the otherwisebanal topic of electrical energy and its worthwhile achievements inthe Soviet Union’s development. The book is obviously directed tothe Soviet people considering the countless references to theirextraordinary powers. Moreover, texts such as Da ZdpavstvuetRevolutsiya!: Vospominaniya Uchastnikov Velikovo Oktyabrya v OgneZhizni I Bor’by are among the multitudes of politically gratuitousmemoirs published by virtually unknown people with the motive ofglorifying their nation’s merits. Since the terror and camps weretaboo subjects, punishable through a public reprimand, exileabroad, or even a sentence to a labour camp, it should come as nosurprise that none of the prison memoirs or diaries were publishedin the country that provided material for them.Thus, the story of Soviet political memoir is enmeshed in theoverall history of Soviet political culture. During the Stalinistperiod, works of literature were essentially political vehiclesthrough which the Party articulated its policies. Writers wererepressed and forced, through various methods, either to work forthe party or stop writing altogether. Indeed, all forms of21expression, including political memoirs, were rigidly subjected topolitical control.It will be useful to divide the remaining part of the paperinto three distinctive sections. All three categories are dividedchronologically since one of the principal goals of this analysisis to show how Soviet political memoir reflects the changes inSoviet political culture. It was shown in this chapter howrepressive Stalinist control over literature resulted in very fewmemoirs being published in the Soviet Union. The next section willillustrate how a more liberal political climate allowed a greaternumber of memoirs to be published. This period was transitionalsince two opposing forces struggled for supremacy: Stalinist andanti—Stalinist. Soviet political memoir served as a political toolfor each of these forces in this conflict. The following twochapters entitled respectively “The Reaction to Stalinism: TheCase of Khrushchev and Grigorenko” and “The Reaction to Anti—Stalinism: The Case of Brezhnev and Gromyko” illustrate thechanging trends in Soviet political culture as represented bySoviet political memoir. The last chapter deals with the mostrecent political revolution in Soviet history: glasnost. Onceagain, the new political situation, with its emphasis on freedomand honesty, allows for a wider proliferation of Soviet politicalmemoir. This chapter is titled appropriately “Glasnost: The Caseof Sakharov and Shevardnadze.”In addition, the content and style of all the memoirs in eachsection will be analyzed. Two items will serve as measures in my22analysis. First, I aim to show the political functions of Sovietpolitical memoir using as a reference the intentional functionsoutlined by Professor George Egerton in his article “The LloydGeorge War Memoirs: A Study of the Politics of Memory.” Thefollowing four functions are central to my analysis:to narrate one’s personal role in political events; toexplain, vindicate, and perhaps enhance this record; topresent characterizations and assessments of one’spolitical contemporaries(both friends and enemies); andto offer reflections on political experiences, ‘lessons’for the benefit of posterity. The function of personalapologia might be broadened to defend the record of apolitical party or one’s country, particularly in thecase of war and perhaps to bolster a political creed.29Another aspect that must be addressed is the degree ofinfluence that socialist realism had on the interpretation ofevents in each of the memoirs. I want to see how the revolutionarychanges that occurred after Stalin’s demise influenced thedominance of Stalinist literary controls. Was memoir literaturetreated the same by each post-Stalinist regime? My principal aimis to elucidate the historical importance of Soviet politicalmemoir as a serious research tool by identifying the intimate linkbetween politics and literature. In short, I believe that Sovietpolitical memoir not only encompasses the views of a singleindividual, it also reflects the values in Soviet politicalculture.29George W. Egerton, “The Lloyd George War Memoirs: A Studyof the politics of Memory”, Journal of Modern History, 60 (March1988),[hereinafter cited as “Egerton, Lloyd”] 66.23Chapter Two:The Reaction Against Stalinism: The Caseof Khrushchev and GrigorenkoStalin’s death brought a sense of relief to the country as awhole and led to widespread release over the next few years ofprisoners who had survived concentration camp conditions. Theconcentration camp system was not abolished but reduced toconsiderably smaller dimensions, while the everpresent danger ofunheralded arrest was largely removed from the population ingeneral. The powers of the security police were curbed too, butthe organization was not dismantled; it was merely brought undermore stringent Party control.Khrushchev’s supremacy was notable for sharp policyoscillations in conformity with the man’s capricious temperinent.Relaxations of Stalinist rigours were instituted, partly owing toa widespread reaction against the methods of the past; and partlybecause Khrushchev sought to gain political credit by espousing thecause of reform.The ideological confusion that manifested itself in 1956,after the Twentieth Party Congress, greatly exceeded that whicharose following Stalin’s death. The denigration of Stalin at theTwentieth Congress and the renunciation of parts of the Stalinistheritage provoked questions about the essentials of party policiesand, indeed, about the very foundations of Soviet society, thoughparty leaders tried as best they could to forestall thisdevelopment. Khrushchev’s defamation of Stalin, vivid as it was,traced the dictator’s degeneration only from 1934 and was in otherftf-EnDlCD SI)CDCDIISI)C)ft CDH-EnCDLQSI)Enft oHb0çCDI—aC)CDo—CDCDftSI)-C)CDCDCDfr’5ftH-ft-IftCDCDCDfrI- EnH--ftftC)HSI)HSI)EnH-CDH-ft- EnEnCD-CD EnoCD0 H)SI)tSSI)0En-HSI)ftSI)ft CDH) o<I-H-CDC)En<CDH-H-H)0H EnHEnSI)0‘dH-1LQH)IISI)CDSI)0CD0.’1<H-ftb.’H-ft0HH-<k<EnCDCDEnH--0.’ftEn0.’En-En0CDSI)ftH-EnH‘1C)ftSI),H-SI)0EnSI)CDft0.’0.’EnCDftSI)CDt0QfrEnCDC)CDSI)H-H-HHHH-CD-CDftEnSI)-H-SI)SI)EnC)ftftftCD0OH-HSI)CDH-i.QEnHC)HCE)CDEnCi]H-ftCDH-CDSI)CD‘0-.01<H CD-oSI)C)‘1d.’QHHHftCDCDSI)El)EnSI) ftC)0H)ft0‘<CD‘0ftftSI)CDC)ftCDfth3H-CDCDftH-C)SI)ftC)CC)CDH-Hft0.’110SI)H-C)EnH)ftft0H0ftCDCD—<CD0.’ftIIEnSI)o0SI)SI)CDCD‘1SI)1C)ft<CD0<0ftCDSI)En0‘1CDEn0-0C)CDH)H-C)EnCl)DlH)CDCDC)0H-5y’ftEnSI)CD-CDCDCDCD0ftSI)SI)EnCl)H)Ci)ftLH)CD.‘C)DiSI)CDC)HEn-SI)EnCf)EnLOEn0SI)<HCDEnEnX-ftCDSI)CDH- ftftmH-ftEnEnCDCDi-NSI)CDftZCDSI)CDEnH):i0Cl)CDfto-CDCDHC)CDCDft‘0°CDCDSI)H-HCQ.,SI)EnEnCDCDCDH-CDSI)EnCD‘0Cl)CDII‘1EnSI)HEnH.<EnH-CDoftCl)H-HEnCD‘0.‘oCDDiC)EnH-En-CDCD0CDHEnH-SI)CDHH)H-EnxH‘00SI)C)CDSI)El)HC)0H-SI)CDH)SI)H-ftH(I)H--‘CDCDCDftSI)ft-51HCDSI)SI)ft‘10.’0H-ftCDft<-CD-.‘j‘0 SI) H H- H) H CD‘1 CDCD SI)hi-CD Cl).‘CDH jftC)SI)ft H-CDC)H)H-H)En0 ‘1 ft(_) 0ft 0HCl)ftft:-ftH-CDCDCDftH-.‘EnCDCD En CD C) ft EnEnI-‘-<CDEnEnft0CDH ft H-H-0ft Cl) CD H H)H)L.JM cHC).‘H-H-ft51CD 51 H C’) SI) N CD 0 H H- ft H- C) Di H C-) 0 ft 0 H 0 H) H- ft CD ‘1 SI) ft ‘-1 CD HCD CD ‘1 0 CD 51 0.’ H 0 ft CD En CD SI) 0.’ H) SI) H H 0 H) H L0 U, ft CD SI) ft CD CD 0.’ ft 0 CD x ft CD 0.’ft CD C.) CD ft ‘-1 SI) I-.’ftoCDCDCl) 0ft<oHSCDEnftC) H SI) ‘1 H- H) H zt-)LO25indictment of the essentials of Soviet literary doctrine and of thevery fundamentals of the control system. The literary discussiondid not move in a single direction: the familiar pattern ofconflict between prophets of orthodoxy and advocates ofliberalization emerged through the flux of events and grewincreasingly distinct as Khrushchev’s term came to a close.This conflict, between the Stalinist and anti—Stalinistforces, is at the core of this section. It was still alive evenwhen Brezhnev claimed the reins of control and started torehabilitate Stalin and the attendant political controls of hissystem. Evidently, the fury that Khrushchev sparked in 1956 wasunstoppable. As such, the period dating from the death of Stalinto the ascension of Gorbachev is a transitional one. No one groupdominated every aspect of Soviet society. This situation isunderscored by the dates of production of both memoirs studied inthis chapter.Khrushchev’s memoir project began in 196632, while he wassupposed to be under close KGB supervision at his dacha. What isrivetting is that two volumes of Khrushchev’s memoirs were smuggledto the West under Brezhnev’s allegedly watchful eye. Yet, asWilliam Taubman notes, Sergei Khrushchev was reluctant to respondto questions about rumours that the KGB, or elements of it, playeda role in transmitting the tapes and transcripts to the West, andthat in return for this help, Khrushchev and his associates agreed32Sergei Khrushchev, Khrushchev on Khrushchev: An InsideAccount of the Man and His Era, Toronto: Little, Brown andCompany, Limited, 1990, 233.26to certain cuts in the material. As Sergei states quiteapologetically, “I understand the interest in these questions andI agree they are important. I greatly regret that due tocircumstances beyond my control, I cannot answer them.”33 Of evengreater importance to this discussion, is the fact thatKhrushchev’s memoirs were used as political tools by the anti—Stalinist bloc against Brezhnev’s regime. According to Janos Bak,“Chrushchev’s memoirs were soon smuggled back into the USSR andcirculated in samizdat selections, as powerful weapons in the handsof the still very much persecuted opponents of the regime in thepost—Chrushchev era. “The memoirs of the second author studied in this paper, thoseof Petro Grigorenko, also tell the reader of a new politicalclimate in the post-Stalin period. His were published in 1982 inthe United States -- a fate that befell many works duringBrezhnev’s rule. According to Ronald Hingley, the third wave ofemigration of writers in the 1970s was the most controlled by thestate.35 The policy of expelling or releasing individuals wasapplied to authors considered trouble-makers after offending bypublishing works abroad, by engaging in protest movements, and thelike.Similar to Khrushchev’s, Grigorenko’s memoirs were alsodistributed in the Soviet underground by samizdat. This situationclearly illustrates the conflict between the Stalinist and anti33Ibid., 251.34janos Bak, “Political Biography”, 2.35Ronald Hingley, Russian Writers, 64.27Stalinist forces in Soviet society. It also shows how Sovietpolitical memoir was used as a political tool by the anti—Stalinistforces against the Brezhnev regime. Moreover, Soviet politicalmemoir had emerged as an effective method to articulate the viewsof various political blocs in Soviet society. The repressiveliterary controls that kept memoir literature from growing weregreatly weakened after Stalin’s demise. Thus, this change in thetreatment of Soviet political memoir reflects a simultaneous changein Soviet political culture.A brief background sketch of the authors will elucidate theirmemoirs’ value in the study of Soviet history.36 Khrushchev wasone of the world’s most important statesmen at the time of hisdownfall in October of 1964. Together with his correspondingnumber one and personal foe in Peking, and the President of theUnited States, he was one of the supreme arbiters of internationalpolitics. Yet on October 14, 1964, as a result of a palace coup,the Central Committee ratified a previous decision of the Presidiumdeposing Khrushchev from all his offices, including the posts ofChairman of the Council of Ministers and First Secretary of theParty. The Soviet public was curtly informed that the CentralCommittee had acceded to Khrushchev’s plea that on account of hisadvanced age and ailing health he be released from his multifariousduties. The man who had dominated the USSR for ten years, and who36Other significant memoirs of this period are: Lev Kopelev’sNo Jail for Thought. London, 1977 and Ease My Sorrows. New York,1983; Edward Kuznetsov’s Prison Diaries. New York, 1975; LeonidPlyushch’s History’s Carnival. New York, 1979.0 0 C—4Ct(1)CD CDCDH-En xj C En c-I C H ‘0 0QQ)H-c-I-WH-Ci—l<tnHZH-HH,H-CDID)Cc-I-CDEnH-EnEnCtiDic-I-H-‘tCDHc-I-lEnH•CDip-’0Enc-I-H-c-I-H-c-I-CHH-Ic-I-cc-I-<DiH-0CH-c-I-HH-ti-Dc-I-DiDiICDCDc-I-EflZQCDDiEnc-I-4c-I-DiEnfr-aCDDiEntiDiEnc-I-CDtic-I-EnDiHtYtiCE)lCDEnCD0DiCDZH-0•CD<oc-I-En•.HH-EnCl)00Cl)c-I-0tiic-I--EnCD‘1CDc-I-CDCDc-I-zIEnc-I-CDii-I-‘HtiCDCDDiDi‘dCDLQH-H--oEnc-I-HC00CDCDCDc-IEn<HH,(flc-I-CCDc-toCDH-c-I-HH-Ic-I-CD0EnEnCDH-H,<CDCDH-DiCH-H-HCHc-I-CCDHCCEn-0Enc-I-H-H,HCD-J-H1‘c-I-CDc-I-CDEnCDC)c-I-H,c-I-EnH-EnEnHH-DiCD-CDH-CDi<‘1CD,CDQEnCH-EnDiCDc-I--EnCCCDH-H-CDEnHc-I-c-I-CDHEn0.’Enc-tH-CDCDZCDc-tCtittCDEnHCDHH,IICCDCDDic-I-<<Di-<LQH-0CH-cDiEn0c-I-HEntiH-CCc-I-H-Eni.<C0H-C:D.’C)C).,-0.’En0.’CDEnHDiH,H,-EnHH-DiCDc-Ibc-,<H0.’Ht-CD,CDCDD)t-P.’Dit-CD-øCDCCDH-HDc-I- H-0jCCtHH-—00.’<‘Dic-I--EnCDH-CDEn‘-<EnCH-CDCD0.’H-,n.jEnc-I-HH-tiDiH-CDHCDCDDiZ0.’EnDi0.’CD<hH-EnCDY’HH-o-H-Q)01HH-0EntYCDtiEnCDH-EnH-Cc-I-HCD0c-I-0H0CDEnH-DiH-C-H-H-CDCDEnCDH-c-I-H-En0H-EnNc-I-c-I-F-’En,HCCDc-I-HCCDD0c-I-iiLQZCDCDEn-CDDiEnH-H-0EnCDc-I-c-I-Di1<EnCDEn.‘CDCCD<p<H,CD:CCD••CD0.’c-I-c-I-0.’Cl)‘1Cl)c-I-HEnHC0‘‘Enap.’c-•H-H-End<CDCHH,0Di-..‘-DiH-0EnCDH-CHCDHHCt-CDCDHc-iX1-’-H-H-HCDCDc-I-H,c-I-c-I-CD1EnH,CDGrjH-Cl)‘-Pc-I-ZEnb’CD-CIICc-I-CDCCCDc-I--ttiI-’-c-tCDc-I-HH-<H-t-EnCCEnCDU)EnCCDCDDiCCEn0.’DiCDEnEnc-I-nc-I-1.‘DiEnDiEnH,HCDHc-I-•.c-I-c-I-CDCDFHH,Ci-HDiH-O.’CLQ‘-0.’CDH-H-c-I-CDc-I-H-‘1CD-hH-CL-QEnH,CDH-CDC-‘iiCJCDH-II‘<CD<EnCDc-I-EnCDt-’EnH,Enac-I-CD’-Pti<En-•CDCDCDCDHC•çtO29which he was formally reprimanded and marked for life. Thistransformation led to official reactions spanning the gamut fromlocal discipline to incarceration in psychiatric wards, andeventually to exile abroad in 1977. In this chapter, I willanalyze Memoirs(1982).The story behind the memoirs’ production effectivelyillustrates the dominant role that politics played in literatureand how Soviet political memoir was treated as a political tool byanti—Stalinist forces. Moreover, whether their reception in theWest was positive or negative is not as crucial a concern as is thedegree of sensation that they spurred when they were discovered.The controversy regarding the authenticity of Khrushchev’s memoirswhen they were first announced in the November 27, 1970 issue ofLife is clearly illustrated in the prefatory Editor’s Note,For more than a year a very small group of people at Lifehas been sitting on a very large secret: thereminiscences of Nikita Khrushchev. We could make nopublic reference to the subject, and we could not eventalk about it around the office. . .We were certain thatthe Soviet government would raise the question ofauthenticity or even denounce the work as a fake.Indeed, just last week the Soviet news agency Tasspublished a statement from Khrushchev. . . that he had not‘passed on memoirs or materials of this nature’ and thatthe project was therefore ‘a fabrication.’ Knowing ayear ago that such comments would be forthcoming, we hadto be sure that what we had was not a fabrication.38Initial reaction at Time Inc. to the acquisition of theKhrushchev reminiscences, which were originally in tape form, wasextreme suspicion. Eventually the excitement in claiming to be the38Curtis Prendergast and Geoffrey Colvin. ed. Robert Lubar.The World of Time Inc. The Intimate History of a ChangingEnterprise: Volume Three: 1960-1980. New York: 1986, 287.30publisher of the former Soviet leader’s memoirs became quiteevident. According to Prendergast and Colvin’s book on Time’shistory, Time’s advantage was that it could offer simultaneousmagazine and book publication, the latter through Time Inc. ‘s tradebook subsidiary, Little, Brown and Company, as well as televisionexposure through Time Life Films.39In all, one hundred and eighty hours of tapes, both reel andcassette, and eight hundred and twenty pages of Russian transcriptswere delivered to Time Inc. for the two volumes that Little, Brownpublished, the four instalments from the first volume, and the twoinstalments from the second volume that appeared in Time followingLife’s demise in December 1970. According to Prendergast andColvin, the material arrived in the United States by several routes—— “in the usual way that underground stuff gets out of the SovietUnion.”40 A spectrographic analysis was conducted using forcomparison a United Nations recording of Khrushchev during hisappearance at the 1959 U.N. General Assembly. The analysisestablished conclusively that it was indeed the Soviet leaderspeaking on the smuggled tapes. There were pages missing but noevidence of tampering. In fact, it was recorded that one hundredand seventy—five hours of tapes were unmistakably Khrushchev. Onthe other four and a half hours the voice was less certain. AsPrendergast and Colvin indicate,39Ibid.40Ibid., 289.31Khrushchev had trouble at first with the primitiveequipment, and sometimes put the microphone on top of therecorder. The subject matter of these portions (someincidents of World War II, Khrushchev’s visit to Britainin 1956) did not suggest that there had been anydoctoring however.41Indeed, the aforementioned authors stress that the backgroundnoises of dogs barking, dishes rattling in the kitchen, birdssinging and children playing while he was outside in the garden,all recorded sharply on the German machine that Khrushchev laterused, further supported the tapes’ authenticity.42Edward Crankshaw, the British expert on Soviet affairs andbiographer of Khrushchev, who was enlisted to provide historicalguidance for the project, was similarly convinced. Crankshawadmitted in his introduction to the first volume that he, too, wasnot told how the material was obtained. However, he was certainthat it was Khrushchev speaking, and to Crankshaw, Khrushchev’smotivation, apart from self—justification, seemed evident:Nobody now active and in office is attacked directly.The main target of criticism is Stalin. . .1 think it maybe assumed that the chief concern of the person, orpersons, responsible for releasing these reminiscences tothe West--- it certainly appears to be one ofKhrushchev’s chief concerns —— was to counter the currentattempts [in the U.S.S.R.] to rehabilitate Stalin.43In February 1970, the contract was signed for the Khrushchevmaterial providing for payment of $750,000 through a Swiss bank.All rights went to Time Inc. Final discussions that summer set the41Ibid.43Nikita S. Khrushchev. Khrushchev Remembers. Boston: 1970,ix.32publication protocol, which Jerrold Schecter, as senior editor,summarized in a message to New York: the material was not to bepresented as a “memoir” but only as “reminiscences.”Confidentiality should be maintained until the last moment. “Ifthe first leaks suggest a sensation, we can expect a sensationaland potentially devastating response,” Schecter wrote. “It isimperative that although we speak of a Russian manuscript we do notdirectly mention its author.” Rather, the formula “is that themanuscript contains material that was collected and put on paper bypersons with permanent access to the subject over a long period oftime [avoiding] any indication of the subject’s role in theproject.Life senior editor Gene Farmer began preparing four excerpts,totalling thirty-five thousand words, for publication in themagazine. Shortly afterward, Life opened the bidding for foreignnewspaper and magazine syndication. According to Prendergast andColvin, it was a “blind auction.”45 Gedeon de Margitay, Life’sParis-based syndication chief, made the rounds with the kit,containing Talbott’s characterization of the work and Crankshaw’sintroduction but no actual Khrushchev excerpts nor any informationabout the source. Buyers were told by de Margitay that “we aretaking a gamble and I was asking them if they’d like to gamble44Prendergast and Colving, 290.45Ibid.33along with us.”46 Explicitly, the buyers were forbidden bycontract to speculate in print on the origin of the Khrushchevmaterial beyond what Time Inc. had told them. Even under theseconditions, sales were brisk. In all, European, Latin American,Middle Eastern, and Asian publishers paid a total of $880,000 forpublication rights, more than covering Time Inc. ‘s outlay. Nosyndication rights were offered in the U.S.; Life intended tocapitalize fully on exclusivity on its home ground.47Khrushchev in print was a worldwide sensation. Life’s coupset off a speculative flurry in which, inevitably, publishingrivalries played a part. In Europe especially, newspapers andmagazines that had not been sold rights to the Khrushchevreminiscences challenged their authenticity. Among publicationsaccepting the Khrushchev memoirs as genuine, also, there wasquestioning of motive and source —— the why and how of Khrushchev’sunburdening of himself to an American publisher.Press attention focused on the possible role of an enigmaticfigure who called himself Victor Louis. He had been imprisonedunder Stalin; now liberated, he served as Moscow correspondent ofthe London Evening Standard and lived in capitalist affluence, withan English wife, a seven—room Moscow apartment, a suburban dachawith sauna and tennis court, a Porsche and Mercedes in the garage.The New York Times described the multilingual 42—year-old Louis as46Ibid47Ibid.UT.-cDoHCl) CDH-ClCD H En C-) CD En C) CD 0 En C) CD I-.) 0DlCtDiC)0‘-1C)H-DiHEnCtCDU)EnDiCE)<HC)H-hjCD‘1C)H-frH-CDDiDiHCDClH‘DCt<0DiaH-H)U)-DiH-ClHDiEn CDDiLQEnCDCDCDH)0CDDiCDH)XH-Cl)HDiCtU)HDiClCtjCDiiClEn0CDH)çj.DlC)HC)ClH DiU)-CDCtCDC)-CtC2rtEnCtClCD0k<CtCtCDCtHHCtH-<Ct-.00CDEnCDHCDCDoHClCtCl1H)H-CE)H-H-ClU)Cl)Cl(tH)00‘-3CtCD ClCtCt0CDHCtDi-ClCDCDCDjCDCtH)H-U)CtD)0C)CDH-H-Ct‘CDCtrtiiçtHU)0CDCD--CDH)LI-CDC)o<0DiDiIIc-t-U)‘QClCDCDCD-CDU)ClCt‘3H-CtCDCDCDCD0HLQ0-CtU)H)(1)Cl0CDU)0I-CtCDCDLQD)CDU)DiH-ClCt-CtClU)0CtCDC)h0CDCDHHC)DiCl<0CtDi-H-CtH-DiCDH)0CDCDCtCl0H-CtCt0HDlCDDiHH1En0CthCt0CDDiH)H)<;;-H ClC) Ct-H CD?ClDiCDH,-C)H-CtCtU)H-DiCDC)•H-H)‘-3 H-0CDDiH)H-H-CtU)0d0CDCDCDCDU)<EnU)CDCDH-i0Cl CDHCtClCD00CDI-,-•Di•CtCDCtHU)H--DiCE)-CDL’IL-II:i0ID)DiIClhH-1<HU)H-CD0‘-Di‘-ClCl) QCDb<CDH-CDCDDiCtClDiDiCtCtClCtH-CDCDDi L.QCtCDCDCDEnClCt•Ct 0 I-i 0 Cl C) CD Dl H ‘•l Di Ct CD Cl CD ‘1 U) H- 0 0 H) Di H ‘1H H ClICtDi‘-U)Di10CDDiICt‘tHDi00CDDiH-CtbIIEnII0CDDiIl-I.QClIH-h0CDDiCtDi-DiClClCt-0--jH-HC)CtCD;-EnH H-0DiEnEn- Cl)LQCtL-’LQ‘-CtCl0CDHDiCDH-CtH‘-QEnCDCD-ClU)YCtCDCD-H-,1DiDiClEnU)CDLQDiDi.<U)CDCt0CtCtCtHHCDCDClDiU)Ct0CtCl)HDi0ClCt H-CDCDCtCtHCl)H0HCtCDQCtCDClClCDCDH- EnCtDiC)•‘1tlCtClHIH-0H-IL-ICtHCtU)ICE) CtCtCDCt0‘1kDCt0U)HDiClw•PU)CDEl)En4HCDCtI- CDCDCDCDU) C)CDCDI-I-0 U)Ct I-U)Di U)LCDiCDC)EnCtCtH-H00•En Ct DiEnCt35retrieved from a Swiss bank vault and brough back to the U.S. forpresentation to the Oral History Collection at Columbia University.De Margitay was the courier. In a scenario “right out of an EricAmbler novel,”51 as he described it, de Margitay flew toSwitzerland where, following instructions, he went to the steps ofa church in Lucerne that was high on a hill, visible from allsides. The contact man appeared, exchanged a few words with deMargitay in accented French, handed him a plastic shopping bagcontaining the tapes and departed. That afternoon de Margitay flewback to New York. The tapes passed through U.S. customs withoutso much as a glance.As a result of his quest to uncover the truth, Khrushchevfaced the inevitable problem of the KGB. Although he was aware ofthe bugs planted at his dacha in Petrovo-Dalneye from the beginningof his memoirs project in 1966, the Soviet authorities did notconfront Khrushchev until 1968. Subsequently, a deal was made withthe Soviet authorities to save parts of the memoir which wereeventually smuggled to the West. As was suggested earlier, forceshigh up in the government who opposed Brezhnev’s Stalinist policiesmay have been involved in the project. As a consequence, Sovietpolitical memoir was treated as a political weapon. Unfortunately,Sergei Khrushchev refused to reveal the collaborators’ identity inhis recently published book about his father.52 Hence, even amidst5’Prendergast and Colvin, The World of Time, 292.521n his book, Sergei Khrushchev also gives a lot ofinformation regarding how his father recorded his thoughts in hisdacha, often in view of the security guards. Sergei himself, along36the optimism generated by glasnost, the very nature of thecollusion prevents the reader from fully understanding the historybehind the memoirs’ production. More importantly, the politicalintrigues and unexpected twists and turns surrounding the story ofthe memoirs’ making is reflective of the conflict between theStalinist and anti—Stalinist forces in the Soviet Union. AfterKhrushchev’s fall, however, the Stalinist forces were officially inpower. In direct contrast to the excitement surrounding thepublication of memoirs by famous political figures in the West,Sergei Khrushchev laments the trenchant passivity rooted in hiscountry.53 This was exemplified by the disregard for his father’smemoirs which were published in sixteen languages around the world.As he states, “for seventeen years, nobody paid any attention to it—— yet another example of our long—standing thoughtless, ‘whocares’ attitude to the history of our homeland.”54 Yet, theintriguing story behind their production illustrated the memoirs’political significance and how they were used as political tools byvarious forces in Soviet society.In contrast to Khrushchev’s memoirs, Grigorenko’s work did notspawn nearly as much controversy. Most reviewers were interestedwith a secretary helped compile his father’s memoirs and eventhough a copy of the manuscript was confiscated by the KGB, Sergeiadmits that he had posession of another copy. See Khrushchev onKhrushchev, 233.53George Egerton. “The Politics of Memory: The History,Forms, and Functions of’Political Memoir to 1800.” Manuscript.University of British Columbia, 1989, 2.54Sergei Khrushchev, Khrushchev on Khrushchev, 233.37in his career and how he became a dissident. Production of hismemoirs was ignored. This may stem from his exile to the UnitedStates in 1977 when he came for medical treatment with his wifeZinaida and their son, Oleg. His memoirs were published in theUnited States by an American publishing company and any mysteriousinvolvement by the KGB or Soviet authorities is highly unlikely.All that can be determined from the nature of their production isthat, since Grigorenko actually wrote his memoirs in the West, itseems that reviewers accept them as valid and authentic. Theabsence of a diary or any mention of other materials does not seemto bother Western reviewers of his work. As a product of a Westernpublishing house, Grigorenko’s work shares the same Westerninfluence as Khrushchev’s memoirs but since it was not smuggledinto the West, it is considered more authentic.55 In addition, thefact that Grigorenko was not permitted to publish his work in theSoviet Union underscores the anti-Stalinist forces behind hismemoir’s creation.The method of analysis that I will follow in the remainingpart of the chapter demands a degree of explanation. Topicsdiscussed by both authors will be the focus of the first section.Style, moreover, is crucial in demonstrating the move away fromsocialist realist precepts. Attention will be placed on diction,tone, and the nature of the audience. Lastly, I will discuss how55Rev. of Nemoirs by Petro G Grigorenko in New Yorker, vol.58,January 24, 1983, 107; Paul Foot, “A real communist”, Rev, ofMemoirs by Petro G. Grigorenko, New Statesman, vol. 106, July 29,1983, 23.38academics have used these memoirs in their research and determinewhether they treat them with more seriousness than traditionalStalinist texts. This section, therefore, is meant to illustratethe relationship between stylistic change and political attitudes.First, an examination of the subject matter discussed by bothauthors is crucial in an analysis of their work. In this section,I will look at the two most prominent topics dealt with by bothmen: Stalin and the Great Patriotic War. My decision to examinethese topics is two—fold: 1) they were discussed more than anyother subjects; 2) they were topics traditionally discussed byauthors during the Stalinist period.Khrushchev’s feelings against Stalin represented the raisond’etre of his memoirs. As several sources have noted, particularlyEdward Crankshaw in the introduction to the first volume, the chiefmotives of the parties responsible in smuggling Khrushchev’smemoirs to the West were to “counter the current attempts torehabilitate Stalin.”56 Proof for Crankshaw’s view is notdifficult to find. One has to look no farther than Khrushchevhimself when he declares that “Stalin should be shown to the Sovietpeople naked, so that he can occupy his proper place in history.”57Khrushchev’s aim seems two—fold in nature: to attack Stalin andhis legacy and to relieve himself of any connections to thishorrible period in Soviet history. The latter part of his agendais attempted by Khrushchev presenting himself as a naive follower56Khrushchev, Khrushchev Remembers, ix.57mid.39of Stalin. He cloaks himself in innocence and emphasizes that hisloyalty to Stalin was actually a devotion to Communism. AsKhrushchev admits,I was a hundred percent faithful to Stalin as our leaderand our guide. I believed that everything Stalin said inthe name of the Party was inspired by genius, and that Ihad only to apply it to my own life.58According to Khrushchev, therefore, he was a victim of thesystem which allowed tyrants like Stalin to rule in the name ofCommunist ideals. It taught him to obey without a doubt. In thisway, Khrushchev distances himself from a dark past, a past in whichhe was an active player. For example, when he admits that thecollectivization campaign brought only misery to the Sovietpeople,59 he quickly explains how Stalin’s followers wereindoctrinated as to their proper reactions —— reactions which henaively misunderstood as correct and necessary at the time. As thefollowing passage shows, Khrushchev’s memoir serves as an apologiafor his past mistakes:When the failure of the collectivization became widelyknown we were all taught to blame scheming Kulaks,rightists, Trotskyites, and Zinovievites for what washappening. There was always the handy explanation ofcounterrevolutionary sabotageKhrushchev sees himself as a victim of the time, of the system, andof Stalinism. He suggests that he was not unique and should not be58Ibid., 46.59Ibid, 71.60Ibid., 74.40condemned for something which he could not control.Khrushchev’s discussion of the Great Patriotic War offersglimpses into the Soviets’ dismal condition while the Germans werewiping out whole armies in vast encirciements. The Kharkovdisaster was one of the most devastating events in the War.Khrushchev played an instrumental role in this debacle. In typicalfashion, Khrushchev chooses to place all blame on others.Evidently, his position stands in direct contrast to the claimsmade by Marshal Zhukov in his memoirs that Khrushchev vehementlysupported Stalin’s idea of a major three-pronged offensive in theUkraine, toward Kharkov. As can be discerned from the followingquotation, Khrushchev tries to share his guilt with Timoshenko --thus lightening his own burden:I forget who had taken the initiative for organizing theKharkov operation in the first place. Later Stalin wasto accuse me of having ordered the offensive. I don’tdeny that I may have had a part in it, but, as I askedStalin, ‘What about the commander, Timoshenko?”62The masking of Khrushchev’s guilt is masterfully illustratedin this quotation. The passage also shows another function ofpolitical memoir —- vindication of a leader. In this caseparticularly, it helped to reshape a past event into something morebeneficial to Khrushchev.Alternatively, Khrushchev draws a guilty picture of otherfigures who were just as devoted to the system and to Stalin as hewas. Lazarus Kaganovich, Khrushchev’s former mentor is among those61Ibid., 182—183.62Ibid., 184.41whom Khrushchev condemns as a Stalinist sycophant. According toKhrushchev, “ [Kaganovich] was nothing but a lackey. All Stalinhad to do was scratch Kaganovich behind the ears to send himsnarling at the Party.”63 Khrushchev seems to have some difficultyin arranging his thoughts about Kaganovich. This is demonstratedwhen one considers Kaganovich’s career. He was apparently demotedby Stalin from First secretary of the Moscow Regional and Citycommittees to People’s Commissar of Transport in 1935. Similar toother demotions, Stalin’s reasons lay in his view of Kaganovich asa threat to his position since Kaganovich was getting too close.Khrushchev was chosen by Stalin as Kaganovich’s replacement.Memoir, therefore, is used to evaluate one of Khrushchev’scontemporaries and give his own version of the nature ofKaganovich’s decline in the Party’s ranks. By portrayingKaganovich as an opportunist, Khrushchev is thereby polishing hisimage as the right man who replaced him.Grigorenko also portrays himself as a naive follower of Stalin.He stresses this message like Khrushchev does by maintaining thatall mistakes committed by Stalin were ignored since Grigorenkohimself was inculcated with Communist ideals. Grigorenko expressesthis attitude in his discussion of the TASS Communique number 8 ofJune 21st, 1941, which was designed to reassure the Soviet peoplethat Hitler was not going to attack:But I was unable to agree with him. I had not been brought upto criticize. To me words of the Party, leadership,especially those of the ‘great leader,’ were the height of63Ibid., 46.42wisdom; thus they merely had to be understood and elucidatedfor those who did not understand. I interpreted the TASScommunique in a positive light. And I believed so strongly inmy interpretation that my conviction was interpreted to myhearers. ‘Like Khrushchev, therefore, Grigorenko wants to be judged as a manwho was a victim of the system and not one of its tyrannousleaders.Grigorenko also stresses the grave ineptitude of various militaryfigures during World War Two. He frames a picture of a generallyincompetent General Staff that conducted the war according toabsurd concepts. However, Grigorenko himself is shown as one ofthe few true experts who was frustrated with his country’sunpreparedness for war. He maintains that the “information” thathe received from the General Staff in Moscow was oftenmisinformation. Usually, the locations indicated on orders wereunclear. “For example,” Grigorenico contends,they would cite a tiny place or maybe a high point alongsidea large city. And this tiny place or high point would becalled by different names on different maps. We would have tospread our maps of all scales, and one man would read thecommunique while the other operations officers searched themaps. Usually it took some time to find the point inquestion. How could we know that the author of the communiquewas referring to a place just outside the captured city,instead of to the city itself.65Grigorenko also castigates Stalin’s supporters much likeKhrushchev did in his memoirs. However, Grigorenko’s criticismrests with military figures instead of purely political officials.Marshal Zhukov is the recipient of most of Grigorenko’s wrath. He64Petro G. Grigorenko. Memoirs. New York: 1982, 116.65Ibid., 129.43is shown to have been a ruthless leader who gained pleasure fromdestroying officers’ careers. In the sad story of “Major T. ‘s”fate, Zhukov is shown as nothing more than a power—hungry tyrant:Shtern was preparing to decide the issue by battle. At the sametime he was resolving a multitude of problems Zhukov had created,one of them being death sentences. . .Everyone was astounded at theindictments. Each man’s file contained either an official reportfrom a commander stating that the man had failed to execute anorder and should be court—martialled and shot. Or, it wouldcontain a personal note from Zhukov stating that the man was to becourt—martialled, convicted and shot for not executing an orderfrom Zhukov. There was nothing else: just one small piece ofpaper.66Grigorenko’s attack on Zhukov may be due to various reasons. Hemay certainly have disapproved of Zhukov’s methods and decided toexpress them in his own work. Or, Grigorenko sees Zhukov as asymbol of the Stalinist system which he eventually grew to oppose.But the most obvious reason could be that Grigorenko resents Zhukovfor attaining glory as a war hero—— a position that Grigorenkofeels is owed to him. Of course this last claim cannot be proventhrough the memoirs solely but one can speculate by keeping in mindthe fate of a former war hero who not only lost his prestigiousstatus but was eventually stripped of his Soviet citizenship.Memoir, therefore, cannot only expose the errors of one’scontemporaries, it can also hide one’s insecurities quiteconveniently.The discussion on subject matter has revealed several aspects ofSoviet political memoir. It has shown how memoir can bemanipulated as a tool to polish up one’s own image. Memoir also66Ibid., 108.44allows one to give a critical assessment of their contemporaries ——a valuable function especially if the person in question isdisliked by the memoirist. In addition, it can vindicate thememoirist in the face of alleged past mistakes and shortcomings,and thus re—shape the reader’s memory of the past. A finalfunction of Soviet political memoir is its reflection of politicalattitudes in Soviet society.In this chapter, the memoirists discuss certain topics in astrikingly different manner from that found in Stalinist works.The most obvious difference is their portrayal of Stalin.Khrushchev and Grigorenko fiercely criticize him and stress all ofhis shortcomings. As a consequence, however, they must explaintheir deep involvement in the Stalinist system to the reader. Thisactually means vindicating themselves by promoting the image ofbeing victims of the system instead of its prime leaders. Bothmemoirists also present a negative view of the Great Patriotic War.They destroy the image of a heroic victory for Stalin and hisnation and instead tell the reader that it was almost a majordefeat due to the ineptitude of Stalin and his followers. Theradical shift of interpretations between the memoirs studied hereand work traditionally approved by the Stalinist regime, emphasizesthe anti-Stalinist attitudes that influenced the development oftransitional memoirs. The fact that there were rumours of KGBinvolvement and that the memoirs were eventually printed insamizdat suggest that anti-Stalinist views existed whenKhrushchev’s and Grigorenko’s works were published. The government0’0’o-..iH H-M ci•(I)-C)a’CD ci (I) C) CD CD CD CD M (I) HC1)HCDU)U.0H-00U)MH-di)P)H0Mrt-D’<.<CtH-U)00MMt(tEnrtD)rtP.H-CtciciCDciCDCDCDMZEnC)CtCDMO0ZH-ci-Mçt))ci-HMH-H-H-U)HCDZU)ci-CDH)NCl)—0HCDH-EflCDC)C)C)CDU)HH-CDHCDQMH-1-H-0,‘U)<0(H-Q.HHCDCDHc-i--C)Q.00HU)ci-0CDM0-CDM.ct-0ci-MH-CD.QNCtCD-DiDlDitiCDHQ-t-bHzk<H-CDCDH-D’CtLQLt’iCD00U)CDcnMDi0<CDCDDiCtHDic-i-CDc-i-H-(i-CD0-CDEl))CE)U)0HCD<(1)CDC)rtCD0.’ici-‘‘EflCDH-Dici-HQQDiMCDCDPDlU)El)-Cflci-CDCtH-ci-c-i-U)U)H-U)C)-<Hci0MH-U)MU)00,Mcn0F-.’DiDlH-MCD<clH-H-.CDci-MpCDciEl)0ciH-U)Ctci-DiDl00-CDHU)MciCtH-LQU)CDCD•H-0CDMDci-U)CDCD‘d0U)C)MCDMNci-HDi0.’CDC)CDCDCDU)MCD0C)0.’C)0H(i-c-i-00CtCtU)HC)ciECDCDH-<0H(flHMH0CDXH-3DlçtCDC)<HHHD’<0ci-U)OMHCD0H-H-CDMCD0CDHc-i-U)ci-U)CDi-CDH-Hc-i-HU)<CDCDDiDlM1.00ci-DiCDCDCDci-H-U)CDH0CD1I—’CDtMciMU)U)U)ctQc-i-c-i-U)Dici-c-i-U)U)U)0ci)I•0;MDiiH-,CD<CDfrti‘<CDCD0DiHHCDc-i-CDCtH.dCDH-<H-0tiCDDiH-HCDC)Ctc-i--CD0CD•1OHO••CDI<MMt’C)H0-0U)U)ti<c-i-Di0‘<CD-HCDCtU)Ct0.’0CDciiCDNC-<HCDCDHH)HCtCtF-’-0Di0CDHCDI-’-CDci-t5c-i-U)(tH-Di.‘c-i-0U)dH-U)<çtCtU)CDOMCDMCD•CDM<CD—.’cici-0F-dHLQ0DiHCDH-ci-9)U)CDciHOMCDLQcilMCD<F—.’<HU)0.’U)U)c-tU)CDCD0i.c-i-ci9)CD.’CDci)Di0c-i-CDLODiDi<H2Iii—.’t.’-zci‘1•LQH-H)CDU)Q.’<C)CDH-CtDil-QH-H-‘0.’ci‘II9)CD9)H-U)U)CDH-0U).-U)CD<U)•U)U)ci-ci-<CDU)ci-Ui46Khrushchev’s memoir lacks Marxist language and presents a far lesscombative setting to the reader.Grigorenko’s language is also not socialist realist in nature.He chooses to use allusions quite extensively which make hiswriting seem erudite. A good example of his language is found inone of his impassioned speeches:My conclusion was that whoever wanted to struggle againsttyranny had to destroy within himself the fear of tyranny. Hehad to take up his cross and climb Golgotha. Let people seehim, and in them the desire to take part in his march willawaken. Let others see those who follow him and theythemselves will follow.69Both authors employ an animated diction. They also do not use asmany Marxist—Leninist expressions and the degree of politicalrhetoric is much less pronounced. Since Socialist Realist languageis virtually absent, then it seems that Khrushchev’s andGrigorenko’s memoirs reflect anti-Stalinist attitudes.Moreover, both Khrushchev and Grigorenko display an intimatetone. Khrushchev seems anxious to tell the truth to the reader.He hopes that his memoir will teach lessons to future generations.His emotions are quite pronounced which reveals an intenserelationship with his subject. A good example is Khrushchev’sexplanation for criticizing Stalin, found in the preface to hisfirst volume:What I have to say is not slander, and it’s not maliciousgossip. It is meant to serve the important and constructivefunction of our Party’s self—purification. I address myselfto the generations of the future in the hope that they will69Grigorenko, Memoirs, 290.H 0 CD 0 CD 0 H En C-flEn C) CD ‘1 En C) CD CD CD CD En(1)0El)C))(1)Cf0C)CfCl)CfH)iC))C)ZCfH)0CDCDH-HCDHWHC))HHCfLQCD0HCl)C)CfCDCDHCf0CDC)0CDH-CDC))CDnC))-i0CDC)iiCDHEnC)<<CDEnH0H-C)H-0dH-L.QCDHQ,H-Cf<En<EnCfHtH-r0CDCD<—QHH-CDH•)CfC))HH-HCfC)CD’<’<HHCfCfHCDEn-QEnC))rtHCfCDH-C)C))C)C1OH-CD-C))I-CDCDCfHILQCD-C))Hrj:iHH-H-CDCDCf<Q(n(DH0H0‘EnCfCDEn0CDCfCDH-CDhCfC)HHH-HQ0H-CfCDH-0,CDCfC)C).C))H-H.00CfH)HC)Cf<HHC)QtC))QH)HCf•C))HEnCfH--H-C)H-0•H--H-H-H-0En-WH-CDCDiC))H-C))HEnC)H-0CD0CfCDHCfC0CDCDCf00Cf CDQ1H<CfCDEnri-CDH)HEnEnHC))ØH-EnEnCfCD-0.CDU)EnaCDCDHCDCfEn‘Z0H00EnCDH-EnC)Cnt°H-EnHHC)CDHCDEnHQEnH.CDk<CD()H-En0.HEn::C0EnCD-En(DHC)CfCDH-EnC)’H-H-NH-0,CDCfCDOCDHHC))-CfClH0CDH)CfCDH1EnCfCfCfH-H-CD<CDH-CDEn‘En00En<HH-CD0CfC)°CDH-aH-HClEnEnHH-1j-HEnC))H)C)OH0HWp00C))HCfCD-jC)0O•CD00çtEnCDCloCfC)CDCDH)CfH)CDCfEnCDCDC)CfH-HEnC)En0HH-EnC)CDEnHW0.H-CDCfCD00.CDEnEnH-C)H-1-ijEnEnH-jEnH- CDH)U)ZHCDCDQCD‘<CfCfc..OH-°H•CDQ-CfCDHCDH-CDCDC)0EnHCfoC)CfH-H)En•CC)Cf00.CDH-0.HCfHCDCDC)0H-C)0En0<CDH‘<C)H-HEn(1)ClCDCfC))HWC))EnCDCI)CDC)CfH-CD0Cl)<-H-HZCDCfCDCflCfCfC)’0EnEnCDWCf0CfU)ClCDH-:TClC)jCDCfCfp,I-<CD0CflCfCDCDH-HCDC)ZCDCDHC)H-U)-CfH-EnQ<CfCD0H-CDC))<C1CDEnCfCnCDCDCD‘<0CDCfCfH-C))P)C)C)jC))HU)C))1U)0OH-CfCD’-<<CfCfCfCfHCDC))hC)H-H-CDCfCD‘<H-0H,H)CfEnClCDHa00t-’II0H-C))C))H)CDCDH)CfHHU)EnH-DlCDhi0Li.C)CtçtEnCtH-Ct:H-b•’‘..QXCDH,0hiH-DiID)CDEnCDCDC-I-LQH,XhiDlCDEnhiC)CDDi0ICDCtCDhihiCDDlCDCthiHNCtCtCtCtIH-CDCDH-hihiDl0<0En0HH-INCtCDDlCtQEnCDhihiCDDlIQ.CDQCDCD00H-EnCDH.C)hiC)h-i-Ct(I)CDtQCtEnhiEn<DlDlCDhir1CD0CtID)EnCDCDCtCD0CDDl•Dl0CDCDhidDlEn<CDH-<CDt-CDDiCtH-En-HCDDlCDhiri-CDEnj-U)Q<H-DiCDCDH-CDDlHH-CDH-CDCtDlEnDlEnrtHEnH-EnQ.hiCDQhihiCDCDClCtH-‘<(I)hiHhiCtH.CD00ClEn0<0CDCE)CDj—HU)QH-CDEnH-EnH-EnDlCthiH-DlH,HCt•.H-CtCDCtC)Ct0EnCl)0CtEnhiCtCD0CDCDC)Ct0CD<CDhiEn-tCD0CthiEnCDhihiEnCDH.hiCD-‘CD•H-0HEnhihiCD0ClCtEn0CtDlCtH-DlCtEnCthiCl<DiH,ClCDCDH-CDDlCDC)DlCtCt0H-H--CDDlDlEn-HhiC))hihiH•QHCDH-CtEnHDlEn‘<CDCDClCDhiCthihiCD<H-CtCDEnCDhiDlEnH-CDhiCtHH-ri-EnCtCtCDCt<CDCtCtEn•CtEnEnH-H-CtH-DlhiH-ClH-hi0EnCDEnCD ClC)hi<CDhiCL-hi0•H-EnEn1<U)CDCt0CDCl)DlCDhiEnH,hiCtLi.CDhiEnCDCtDlhiEnH-CDH-CDø0ClDlEn0CD0CtEnCtH-H-0HEnCl‘H,CtEnH-CDH-EnEnDlCDH0DlJCDEnCtEnDlCt<hiCDH0hiH-xClCtCl)U)CtCD0H-EnCDCD EnCDhiH,ClCDDlCtH,0En0CDH,EnH,CDEnCDhi H-H-CD0<NH0hihiH-0EnhiU)EnH-EnEn0CDCDwhiCD0H-CDEn<EnEnCtcCDhiHCDClCDCtC)DlCD-HEnC)hiCDH-0CDH-H0CtH,EnCtCDEnCtEnH-EnDlCtjEnCDC0EnH,H-HCtC)CDHiCtCDC)EnohiCDQ-DlCthiH-CDEnH-Hi<ZhiH-0H-CDCD0hiCD-EnCt>EnH0EnH-H-H-H-0<CDC)hiHEnEnCtEnH-HC)hiCl-Dl0CDH-IC)CtHCDH-CDCDEnhiHCDCDH-C))IhiCtClCtEnU)CDCDdH-Enhi0ICCt•CDH-CthiCDhiEn0-0DlCD1<CDCDU)CDC)hiCD-0ClCDHCtH-HCt0hiXCtDl0CLLi.CtH-CtDlhiH-hiDl0CtCtCDDlCD0C)H-EnCL<EnH-H-DlCD.QH-hiZC)YH-.CCD-<CDEnCl-CDCDCDClEn•EnEn<EnCDCLCt‘-<hi049value of Khrushchev’s memoirs as an insightful source for the studyof Soviet policy in Khrushchev and Khrushchevism, a compilation ofessays by various historians who seek to determine the relationbetween the man and the policies pursued by his regime. MichaelShafir examines the memoirs and compares them to Khrushchev’sEastern European policy, thereby uncovering a distinctivecontradiction. As Shafir shows, Khrushchev would at one pointclaim that “we deliberately avoided applying pressures on otherSocialist countries” contending that “every Communist Party should,and would, handle its own internal problems by itself.”Alternatively, Khrushchev would also support Ulbricht’s building ofthe Berlin Wall because, as he phrased it, “naturally, under thedictatorship of the working class, there can be no such thing asabsolute freedom. “‘aGrigorenko’s works are also accepted as valuable sources,particularly for what he tells about the infringement of humanrights in the Soviet Union. In his book entitled Andropov, ZhoresMedvedev refers to Grigorenko’s memoirs in order to show thetreacherous methods employed by the KGB against Soviet dissidents.Medvedev’s attack is directed against Andropov and the repressivemeasures his regime implemented in order to suppress opposition.From the words of Grigorenko himself, Medvedev finds that in 1967-68 Andropov had personal responsibility for the thorny problem73Martin Mccauley. Khrushchev and Khrushchevism. Bloomington:1987, 166.bid.50relating to the Crimean Tartars. They had been deported from theCrimea to Uzbekistan in 1944 and were fully rehabilitated as anation only in 1967. Moreover, Mikhail Heller and AleksandrNekrich refer to Grigorenko’s memoirs in their book, Utopia inPower. They use his reminiscences in the chapter, “The War, 1941—1945” which deals with the situation faced by Vlasov and hisfollowers during the War. The most illuminating aspect revealed byGrigorenko is that most Vlasovites who were prisoners in Sovietcamps, including Vlasov himself, did not confess to treason withoutattacking Stalin, despite the fact that they were promised life ifthey had done •76 The anti-Stalinist attitudes expressed inthese works obviously were more convincing to the Western reader.Since Khrushchev’s and Grigorenko’s memoirs have been treated quiteseriously by academics in their research, the change betweenmemoirs such as these and traditional Stalinist literature isnowhere more apparent than in this section.Khrushchev’s and Grigorenko’s memoirs reflect a new politicalclimate in the Soviet Union following Stalin’s demise. The mostobvious change is that Soviet political memoir was no longerregarded as a bourgeois, individualist preserve as it was underStalin. Instead, more memoirs were being written by prominentSoviet figures. Soviet political memoir was also treated as a75zhores Medvedev. Andropov. Oxford: 1983, 85.76Mikhail Heller and Aleksandr Nekrich. Utopia in Power.transl. from Russian by Phyllis B. Carlos, New York: 1982, 437.51valuable political tool by anti-Stalinist forces who wanted to stopthe return to Stalinism. The history behind the memoirs’ productionreinforces their political importance. In Khrushchev’s case, forexample, the story of the tapes and how they were smuggled to theWest seems to have almost forshadowed their actual content.Moreover, the fact that they were officially published only in theWest while they were distributed clandestinely in the Soviet Unionpoints to the tensions of the Cold War era. This fact also showsthe unique nature of the audience. Although the authors hoped thattheir works would eventually be published in their nation, theirintended audience is the Western one. Yet another feature is thememoirists’ attack on Stalin and the inadequacies of the Stalinistsystem. This characteristic is the most conspicuous differenceseparating memoirs of the transitional period from traditionalStalinist works. A final aspect is the way that academics haveaccepted Soviet political memoirs as serious research materials.Even though Khrushchev’s works suffered from more criticalevaluation and skepticism from Western reviewers, they have beentreated with the same seriousness as Grigorenko1. In short,Soviet political memoirs of the transitional period are definitelydifferent from Stalinist texts based on the nature of theirproduction, content, and reception by Western academics.Khrushchev’s and Grigorenko’s memoirs, therefore, reinforce thethesis that Soviet political memoirs are important research tools.They show how the new political situation in the Soviet Unionallowed the proliferation of anti-Stalinist attitudes. The mystery52behind their production, the distinctive change in interpretationsfrom those demanded in the Stalinist era, and the rejection ofSocialist Realism, reflect the views of oppositional forces in theSoviet Union. The fact that former Stalinist supportersarticulated anti-Stalinist ideas affirms the political turbulenceof their period.53Chapter Three:The Reaction Against Anti-Stalinism:The Case of Brezhnev and GromykoThe keynote of the Brezhnev administration which followed thedismissal of Khrushchev in October 1964 was extreme caution. Oneearly outcome was a brief period of relaxation, lasting from late1964 into 1966, during which the new leadership was still feelingits way. This phase saw the publication of remarkably outspokenmaterial less in the form of imaginative literature than in that ofmemoirs, particularly military memoirs, and articles by historiansand military experts.77 They contained revelations about earlySoviet history and criticism of Stalin’s and also of Khrushchev’smilitary activities.Once the Brezhnev administration was firmly established it beganto impose Stalinist controls more effectively, if less newsworthythan those of the previous dispensation. From 1966 onwardsliterary censorship was unobtrusively strengthened and renderedmore sophisticated, being applied with special rigour to works andperiodicals enjoying a large circulation. As for Khrushchev’sdevious and limited brand of de-Stalinization, it was replaced bya different policy: that of discreetly rehabilitating the greatdictator while yet keeping public comment on him to the minimum.Even the soothing Khrushchevite euphemism for the horrors of theGreat Purge (“phenomena associated with the cult of personality of77A few examples of such works are as follows: Marshal Zhukov,The Memoirs of Marshal Zhukov. London, 1971, first published in theUSSR under the title Vospominaniya i Rozishleniya. Moscow:Novosty Press Agency Publishing House, 1969; Svetlana Alliluyeva,Only One Year. New York, 1969.54I.V. Stalin”) ceased to be employed , while Khrushchev himselfbecame a virtual unperson —— someone to whom reference could nolonger be made in print. The general effect of this policy was toremove the pall of uncertainty under which the USSR had lived whenKhrushchev’s sudden bouts of rage or benevolence were at any momentliable to initiate a sudden switch in policy.The Brezhnev era marked the return to repressive literarycontrols. The first noteworthy example was the trial in Moscow inFebruary 1966, of two writers, Andrey Sinyavsky and Yuly Daniel, onthe basis of literary works by them which had somehow come to bepublished abroad under the pseudonyms, respectively, of Abram Tertzand Nikolai Arzhak. Hard labour sentences of seven and five yearsimposed on the two authors caused considerable indignationthroughout the world. It was noted that never previously, evenunder Stalin, had writers been overtly prosecuted on the basis ofwhat they had written and “after a trial in which the principalevidence against them was their literary work.”78The year of this double trial coincided with a great increase inthe particular kind of transaction that the accused had conducted:the spiriting abroad for foreign publication of Export Onlyliterary works found or assumed to be ineligible for publication inthe USSR. One reason for their proliferation since 1966 was theimposition of more effective censorship controls at home. After1966 writers could be fairly certain that works of a certaincharacter had no hope of Soviet publication; under Khrushchev, by78Hingley, Russian Writers, 50.CD0<QEH0CDHCi0CtCtIH-CJ)Cl)C)CD‘1H,0I-a-Z0<-D00d0C)iC)H-II0HH,D)CDOCDCDlCDZIHHEnCtCfH,CtEflHt-j)H0NNCtCfH-frbCDCDCDI1Cl)Eno‘CDCDHCDH-0CDCREnCD°CDCDCDHC))‘1EnH•01<IiH-0En•EnH-CtCt0EnC))HH--H-ICRYH-H-CDCtCDH,CD0CD0ICtHCtCDCt-00CD0H-ICDEn<EflEnH-EnH,•CtH,H-fl<<CtCtH-C/)EnIH-CtnC))CtoHH0CtIii0-0H-0IIC)IIH-C))Ct<CtCD00HCfNH-CDCDCDlCDCDHCD0EnH‘1CDCDo-2Cl)CDH-H-C))H-H00H-CDClCtU)QCtEnbH-H-H-U)H-CDHoCDH-CtCt0Cl)CDCDCDCDH,NCDHH-CDEnx0HCtCDH,HCDCiC))Ct0H-H-0jHH0EnCtCD0C)XQCD1HHCDH-Cf-EnClH0Ct0H-CDH‘1Cl0CtCDCDCtH,CDH-1HCD<CtH)C))En.CtHCDEnH-HEnCD0CtH,CDCDCDHHH-fr’H-0.<C))H-)JCDCDH-0‘-.00H-Ico<CDH-t-0CD‘1CDQH,—CDCDEnCD0EnClCl)CtCDH0H-0CDiCtH-CDCiCD0IcCtCDiC))ClEn<0H-0‘1:iC))HHHyCDC))HH-Cl)1Cl<CDH-C))H-CDCDH0CtoCDCfEn0CtC))-t-C)C))D)CD0,CDCD0 HCDCtCt00H-CD-.0IZ$lCiCiCtCDCD0H,EnCtCtH,CDCDH-CDCl)CDCtH-En-H-CDCDCl0CDC))iH,H,HCtH-HlCDH,‘CD0H,‘CtCDH-0EEni-i,fl0Ctj0CDCt00H-CDIC)’CtCDH-CDH-CD-CDCt‘<Ci00H,H-CDH,HHCDCt C))-H-HH-0CtH-0LQ‘1Ct:i4CDCDCtH-U)EnCDCDICtCDI(-)HCDC)’H-CD0CtCDHH-CDH-CDCtNCtH-CtCDC)jCDC))C)H-01-QCDlCDCDCt010IhEnH-CiCl)HCDCtICtCDClH-H-0H,H-CtH-H-ClH-HCtCDCtCthIINHC))(C)’0IC))EnCtCDCtCl)H-I-‘<EnC))En0Ht3H-HCiZHd0CD0C))C))CDCtCE)CiEnHCDCtICl1<C))fr<LQ00H-X‘-<H-ZH,0H-HhH-Ct0Ct0H-H-CfLH-H-0C))<0CtCt0CD0CDHHCtCl-El)H-II0CDH-CD01‘1CtClCDClCD•CDCDCDEnQCt•ClCl•CDEl)0156exclusively on Stalin, thus tacitly exculpating his aides and theParty itself. As time went on, however, Ginzburg became persuadedthat her memoirs would not be published in the Soviet Union withinher lifetime. In dealing with writers considered obstreperous,Brezhnevite policy showed a degree of flexibility. Some offenderswere tried and sentenced to concentration camps, incarcerated inpsychiatric clinics, expelled from the Union of Writers, and eventhrown out of the country. Not a few were induced by these meansor by the threat of their application to assume more conformistpostures. Socialist Realism still remained the mandatory literarydoctrine.One approach used by the Brezhnev regime to counter the anti—Stalinist coup started by Khrushchev was, ironically, a method alsomanipulated by Khrushchev’s supporters: the writing of hismemoirs. Brezhnev was the first Soviet leader who published hismemoirs while still in power. The message in them was undoubtedlyone that glorified the Stalinist system and its past. As was shownin the last chapter, Khrushchev’s memoirs were a reaction againstBrezhnev’s Stalinist policies. They were not only smuggled out ofthe Soviet Union and published in the United States, but they wereeventually smuggled back in the USSR and printed in samizdat.There were also rumours that members of the KGB and other highly—placed figures in the Brezhnev government were behind Khrushchev’smemoir project.79 The figures were allegedly unhappy withBrezhnevite policy and preferred the changes instigated by795ee editor’s note in Khrushchev on Khrushchev, 251.57Khrushchev. This chapter deals with the same transitional periodbut focuses on the Stalinist bloc, a group that also exploitedSoviet political memoir as a political tool. It seems that a newpolitical culture developed during the Brezhnev period since aconsiderable number of memoirs were published not only by the anti—Stalinist group represented by Khrushchev, but also by theBrezhnevite leadership itself.The memoirs of Leonid Ilyich Brezhnev and Andrei Gromyko are thefocus of this chapter. I chose them because of their prominentposition in Soviet political history, the availability of theirmemoirs in both English and Russian, and the wide publicity thatthese memoirs attracted from the Western press. Incidentally,Gromyko’s second English edition is quite appropriate for a studyof the transitional period. I will show how the reasons behind theproduction of this revised edition stem primarily from thepressures generated by glasnost while the overall message of thebook remains Stalinist in nature. This memoir reflects thechanging political culture in the Soviet Union at the beginning ofglasnost and emphasizes its treatment as a valuable political toolby certain political blocs in Soviet society.A brief background sketch of Brezhnev and Gromyko is necessaryas a prelude to an indepth analysis of their memoirs. Brezhnevlaunched his career as general secretary of the Party almostimmediately after Khrushchev’s fall from power in October of 1964.His authority grew with the years, and one could speak even of acult of Brezhnev, especially after the general secretary of thez CD 1<cD()H<..C)H0OHL—1XD)U)1<h<—C)HCDH.C))CDU)0-H.<ctU)CtU))(flft-Oc-1HO-O-OH •UiM4‘j•H-HI-f)Di0C)CD 0 Hftcn -CDII OHQU) U)C) ftCDHft Di ftCD OU)H-ftU)CDC)DiDlCD U)vJU) CDNH-CDU)-ftU) DiCDC)CDhU)Oft H1<00 -0 I-bDiftCDCDftCDJ H-dCDU)CDU)‘1CDH-‘1CDHCDH-DiH)CDft0ft•z<DlCD DlOHU)0DiDl‘U)ft(I_iH-0DiO CDH-CICD0C)ft< HDiC)CDF’,H-ftH-ftCDH-QDlIINH--CDHU)0CDHIIDi ftDlH-H-HU)LQDiHDlCDCDHU)‘.0ft0 H-H0)QIIk<U)-DiDi HQ,0<Q.’IIDiCDH-HOCD U)DlDiDlHHZft‘.0CD‘.Q0CDO‘.0HCD—00-III-bCDH-0DlH<U)ft OH ‘.0Dl‘.0 0Dl H ‘.0 o: occ-I-ctQ0H-DiH)CDU)<CDCDftftH-U)CDt:—l0ft:iCDf-‘-QCDHH-H-Q0d•H-DiCDCDi-cCDCDU)HDlCDH-HI-t)H-Nfti-cCDH0ftL0I-bU)H-i-cOiCDi-cDlU)Q. Difti-cCDDlCDI-cH-ftft Dii-cCDU)i-cftH-NftCDCD0 i-cU)CDH-i-tI-<C)-DiI-cU)HH-0i-cC) D)CD0[I)C)CDC)Di-CDftHDiCDgCDU)U)ftHH-U)i-c 5CDCDC)C)Ni-ci-cDlHCDIIU)OC)(:1)I-bfti-cCt)0DiftH-<fta<HCDOCDCDCDCDHH1:1fti-cU)Dl0ftIt-iftjD)H-i-IID)CDDiOQ.bU)0lCD1iXfthi-cCDDiIIQft0ftCD“<Icnti)U)tY<DlIc—HX01<H0jDlc-I-IH-‘.0ft‘.HUlCDI-cU)CDCDIDiHIH-oI-C)U)ftIcHDiDlDiH-HH(DC)CDDlHH-H‘.oftH.DlU)U)c-I-H-CDU)CDH-CDHCDCD(1)x‘.‘.0PCDDlU)IH)ftlCDH-:DlCDD’H-H)Di1°CDi-:i0DlC)H-CI)QCDCDftCDi-cCDCDlU)‘.OH-U)H--DlH-H-U)‘-QU)Hl-ftCDDiftHDlft-H-c-Il-bU)H)OH-c-j-DiDi0iiI-c‘.0U)U)C)CDCDCDCDH-0IDlQ-‘.H-H<0‘.<10DiftH-lU)CDU)0(-)0I-cHH-‘.0H-•CDCD1HDiH-Di0U)CDft,U)IDiCDH-CDCDU)H-ftCDHI-c1<i-cj0-CDDiC)H-NC)DiDiftHHCDCD‘.00HH-<‘.CCDDiC)<O01ftDi-LQCDU)-H-IH-JH-(71•Dii-CD•ZlCDU)059monumental insignificance which apparently was not even written byhim.”82 Brezhnev even openly admits at the outset of his memoiron post—war reconstruction that he did not keep a diary. This mayhave fuelled the allegations of the books being “genuine propagandafrom start to finish.”83 The eventual removal of the texts fromSoviet shelves strengthens these appraisals. The Gorbachev regime,in its quest to erase as much of its Stalinist past as it could,thought that the removal of Brezhnev’s memoirs would give the Westa new image of the Soviet Union. Critics of Gromyko’s works alsopointed to their mysterious nature. Specifically, attention wasplaced on Gromyko’s revised and abridged version which includes achapter attacking Stalin. The general consensus among reviewerswas that Gromyko aimed to follow fashionable trends of antiStalinism in order to maintain his prestigious reputation in theSoviet Union.84The controversy surrounding the nature of Gromyko’s andBrezhnev’s memoirs, however, is not an obstacle to my analysis. Iam not concerned here with the authenticity of authorship andtruth. What I look for in these memoirs is not the accumulation offacts but the way in which these “facts” are manipulated. The82Walter Laqueur, The Long Road to Freedom: Russia andGlasnost. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1989.84These views are expressed by John Sametica in his article“Remembering with advantages,” The Spectator, 17 June 1989, 29;Martin Walker in his article “Stony—faced silence,” ManchesterGuardian Weekly, 21 May 1989, 26; and”GriTn Groni,” The Economist, 20May 1989, 100.I-U)ftft(Dt5dI-0çtCDI-0U)U)fl)HI1.U)><II0QHYH-Hri-ctU)CDftH(flctHftCflCDHU)H-0H-U)C)C)flH-U)Q()C)U)jftU)HU)C)f-iHU)1.QO<(j)ZOH-CDU)-iCflCDHHbU) H-y’CDCD::HCbU)H)H-l-HU)U)CDH-C)0jF-•0ctCD-CD-CtH<I(flh0ci-CDU)ftLhiCDCDo<CDCDIC)QU)U)CD HHU)ft ‘1CDU)CDCDH-ftU)<1j1t3HQU)QHH-rtIU)-IHHflU)IftU)CD0IHC)HiH-I-IHC)00-CDCDri-CflC)CDCDCI)1CD’<ft’.QII•0U)U)F--b<CDU)U)ri-U)CDbCDH‘1CDQhCCDCDCD•CDQ-CDCDCflcici-ft 0CDCD ‘-I0U)Cfl0U)H-U)t3ft1.1 CDI-”NCDH 0CDciCl)H H-U)z CDC)00ftH)U)I-<ci- ft0CDHCD-‘-IftU)H-H-0C!)HCDHU)00HHH-U)HU)I-IHCDU)I.<dU)CDH-CDC)U)U)-+H-CDH-H-ft“C)HI-IHci-CDH HCDft oH-U)CDci-HCDH-U)‘-QftLQH-00ci-HC)0C!)H0CDci-QU)I-ILi.U)CDCDCDH0ftU)C)IIH-HCD-ci-Q0IICUCDH-LQ--U)H-ci-ci-C) U) HHci-0CDU) 0U)ftciZ0CD‘-r U) ri D)CD0HI-IHH-U)H-ci-c-iH-—H-U)C)ftU) H CD 0 H I-I U)ci-H) 0CD‘-C C)CDCD Cl)< CD ‘-ICD0H-‘t3 ftci-I-C U)H-U) H 0H)CDiI-CCD U) HU)H-ftH<I-C H-CDCDHU)H- CD <CDCDCDftCDU) ftCD ftCD- II CD CD C) U) ft CD 0 ‘-C H- CD U) 0 H) CD 0 H ‘-Ca(I)CL,Q0CD CDft‘-I U)CDH rt3U)U)ftftCD L.Q 0 ‘-C H-0CDH)Cl)‘-C CD U) CD U) ‘-C C)U)U)Cr2CI)‘dft00Hft<<U)CDH-H-H-U)ftCDCDI-Ici-ftU)Q CDI-C0CDCDHHH)H-H-H-000ftci-.I-I,H)H-HQ_•C)C)C)HH-HCDCD‘-CU)U)—‘1‘1U)0HHU)CD0U)IftH-IIU)CDCi)CD0LQH)U)U)-ft‘-CHHHi:-CDU)H-QU)H-0U)H)QU)C)0CD-1H-U)H-U)CD‘-CU)U)U)ft-‘U)U)‘1U)‘-IH-0CC)11C)C)U)dCD‘-3U)ftH-U)CDCDHCDU)U),iftCDHCDft‘-CCDd‘-C‘-<C)CD0CD.H-CDHftHHU) U)‘-C 0 H)U) C) CD U) U) 0 ‘-C H 0 ‘-C CD 0 U) CD 0 H ‘-C U) H ci H- U) C) U) ci- CD ‘-C 0 U) H H U)CD C!)CDCl)LQrtH-‘-Ici-CDCDHCI)CDHft0H-H-‘-CU)U)U)crH-U)H-CDH-ftCDU)H-CDCDHftftH)ci-0H-ftH)U)C)000U)CC;‘-CC)U)ftH-ClU)CD0ZftU)H-U)C)<ftCDCDftU)U)H-0H-00-IH)C)ClH)Cl0 H) U) ft CD ‘-C61with since the choices that are made (e.g. which “facts” to includeand which not to include) reflect an attitude to the past. Thereis also the question of style -- the way language is used—- whichincludes diction, tone, type of audience, and narrative genres.With these tools I aim to outline the general characteristics ofthe memoir genre as they appear in these particular Sovietexamples.The first area that I will study is subject matter. I havedecided to analyze three topics in particular: the depiction ofSoviet life, the Great Patriotic War, and the idolization of a pastSoviet leader. The most obvious reason for the choice is that bothmemoirists discuss them at great length. These subjects thereforewill help me determine the basic attitudes and forces thatresonated throughout Soviet society. More importantly, the waythat Brezhnev and Gromyko interpret these topics will reveal adominant, Stalinist attitude behind the production of theirmemoirs.The most notable aspect that the memoirs share is their portrayalof Soviet life. Brezhnev chooses to glorify Soviet society byemploying the literary device of “good-guy/bad-guy.” Notsurprisingly, the Americans are brandished as evil—doers whorefused to help the Soviets after the war. Nevertheless, thestrength of the Soviet people, under the guidance of the CommunistParty, managed to triumph in the face of great odds. The animatedrhetoric stresses this dichotomy quite effectively as the followingpassage illustrates:CD ‘1 CD H H,ci- CD C) H- ci- CD Eno<otizH-H-C)CDCDHC)ci-ciHri-CoflH-OHH,OOCDdH-1ci-EnOH EnCDO(flEnH-H,n)C)EnC1OHCDdOZEnzCDC)CDQci-OH-Q.hD,D)H-DlDlHHHci-CDH-TJCD‘-<CnL.QQC).Dlt-0,ctH(-iH-H HDlC)ci-CtC)En ci Di ci- CDDlHEnEnH-H,HH,Q,Enci- 0CDctCDHctDlH-H-ci-CDH-H-ci-C) HCDCDDlHCDDiHDlCDHci-U)C) ci-o H-CDCt-tnci-H-°U)(iiDlDlCDOCDH.ci-ci-C)i-ci-‘ci-H-CDtIOOCDQH,H,ci- CDCDC)CD‘1‘1En5CDHo0H owLQ1H<CD NEn::rci-ci- CDCDCD C)H,‘1DloDl H-c1 CDci-ci-i-DlCDH En0DlEnci-ctH C)-DltYtflci-CD EnCD H(I)H-H,0f—((o<I-H-0ri-CDEnci-ci- Dl ‘1ci-:b•H,0CL)0CDCDH‘1Enci-H- CDci-H ci-CDDlCDCDij‘1Hci-ZEnci‘1H-ci-0C)CDH,HEnEj•DlCDci‘1CD0H-CDEnHci-DlEnH-HEnCD•Dl z CD<Enci-ci-CDDiDlCDci‘1C)CDH-0H,Enci-H-0HC)CEnctozct CDci-H,HDlH-CDCDC)-ciH-Cl)EnEnEnCDCDC)H-DlxCDH-HCDCtci-EnEnCD<EnDlCDci-0EnH-ci-CDC)_-.EnEnCDC)CDCDH-HEnC)DlEnH-Dl0HDl<EnH-EnH-i-’CDCDH-0XEnH-‘rjH-C)(i-HQEnDlDli-ci-Dl0CD-ci-ICDC)DltH‘ci-CDzCDQ.00Hci-CDEnbEn-<H-CDEn0ci-Dl1H-Q-H-H-C)DlHEnci-CD—CD‘-<ci-<i-DlCtt-.H-H-0DlCDQCDQ.ci-CDNCDHcii-actQ.ctCDC)DlCD.fNVJCD—°‘CDEnciD)H-H.CDCDHHci-CDDiEn<0 Dlci-HCDf-CDCDCC)CDci-‘dHHDlEnH-DlCDQH-0Oici-Hci-EnH-HCD0ci-iH-0tDlH-—H-CD,n0oDlEnctCDEnrtO•(iHc-i-0 H-C)0C)0i-DlçtCDCtHEnCD EnCtcioJQH,ZH,H-II1EnL..ci-C)ci-Eni-CDCDCDC)C)C)C)ci-CDCD0CDCDHoDlOEnCDciEnci-Y’CDEnEn<CDDl 0 CD0, H H a, 0,Dl En En Dl LQ CD EnID 0 rnD 0’CDci-HHwCDCD1NCD‘1 CDEn°EnCi-HIc-C) H- ci- CD Dl En CD N CD 0 H Ct Dl En 01 0CD N CDCD<0-zEnHHo<C)Dl H-CD NDlz_z CD0 En <0DlEn 0 HODQ)‘10CD0NEnCDzCD< CDCDEni-C)zC)CDH-oEnCl)H-Enrn-DlCDEnEn C)-‘-CD-CDH-Dl0 H, 0 CD CD H Dl H, ri D— I-I CDHDlCDIC)Hc: zH-H-EnLQCDDc-CDC)oci-HzDlH-CD0EnH-H‘-QzCDzDlCDIIEn-<Hci-Cl)DlEnci-ci-ci-DlH-DloQ.DlDlZ‘10s:i<EnH-H-ci•H- C)Dl0,(‘363Essentially, Brezhnev is telling the Soviet audience that theAmericans are not to be trusted and should believe only in theirown nation’s abilities, which are superior to the West’s anyway.Seen in a different light, the refusal to admit weakness isreflective of the Soviets’ methods in dealing with large—scaleproblems.Gromyko also denies the existence of Soviet shortcomings—— butin a more sophisticated fashion. This stems from his extensiveexperiences abroad and his relationships with several foreignpolitical figures and famous celebrities. As a result, hisassessments of American society are far more detailed thanBrezhnev’s. As the following passage will show, Gromyko’s subtlesarcasm demonstrates a degree of control in his method of criticismwhich stands in striking contrast to Brezhnev’s impetuous rhetoric.For instance, Gromyko holds that the American people are blind intheir devotion to a country which is not democratic since it doesnot guarantee prosperity to everyone. In short, Gromyko iscleverly masking a political principle within an economicframework:Soviet visitors to the USA are struck by the strange (to them)sight of people standing in line for a job, or forunemployment benefit, or just for a bowl of soup. If you asksomeone how he got into this situation, he’ll tell you: ‘Ihaven’t got a job, my family’s got nothing. I’ve triedlooking for work, but I haven’t found any. ‘ And if you askhim who’s responsible he’ll say: ‘That’s how it is. This isa democratic country—— one guy finds a job, anotherdoesn’t. ,89When the English and Russian versions of Gromyko’s memoirs are89Gromyko, Memories, 71.64compared, one discovers a clearly discriminatory approach. Certainissues which are discussed in English are excluded in the Russian,particularly controversial topics such as the Soviet invasion ofHungary in 1956 and Czechoslovakia in 1968, whereas subjects whichsmear the Americans’ image are elaborated in greater detail in theRussian. In fact, a revised second edition, with the chapter thatcriticizes Stalin, does not exist in the Russian. Unfortunately,information on the origin of the English edition is difficult tofind. Perhaps certain groups in the United States wanted to appealto the American audience by adding on this chapter. This shows thetendentious nature and political intent of memoir literature byselecting specific subjects for a particular audience. Groinyko iseither building up a view or dismantling it depending on thereader’s ideological standing. For instance, an item which is notdiscussed in the English version is the topic of a repressiveAmerican police force whose scheme is to suppress criticism againstthe American government. Again, Gromyko emphasizes America’ssocial problems and concludes that the United States is not adefender of democracy but an upholder of inequality:The American police machine, all its army of agents andinformants are first of all directed against those who raisetheir head to defend their political and civil rights and go onthe streets to demand the end of the arms race, of unemployment,and that the unemployed be given “a roof on their head.” Herethe American idea of democracy works perfectly.9°The above cited passages show an important function of memoir ——vindication of a Party. By concentrating on America’s social90A. A. Gromyko, Pamyatnoe: Kniga Pervaya, hereinafter citedas “Gromyko, Pamyatnoe,” Moskva, 1988, 287.65problems, Gromyko is drawing the picture for the Soviet people thatlife in their country may not be as bad as it is in America-- thebastion of democracy. Moreover, one could infer that the Sovietgovernment has not failed in providing for its people when comparedto one which professes equality and prosperity.One of the most consistent and enduring themes in both works isthe topic of the Great Patriotic War. Although both authors varyin their degrees of emphasis, they both express the same view ——that the Soviet Union sacrificed more than any other country inthis War and should therefore be respected as a great nation.Memoir here is used as a tool to shape social memory and frame apositive picture of the Soviet people’s participation in the War.Brezhnev also manipulates memoir to maintain his leadership rolein the war. In How It Was: The War and Post—War Reconstruction inthe Soviet Union Brezhnev shows himself as a gallant leader of theEighteenth Army Political Department. In fact Brezhnev ascribes agreater importance to his role than the Army commander’s since “itwas the political worker who was entrusted with this most effectiveweapon during the war.. . nothing —- neither tanks, nor guns norplanes —— would have brought victory.”9’ Brezhnev even claims thatZhukov mentioned his extraordinary leadership abilities in hismemoirs.92 Nonetheless, Brezhnev’s seif—centredness is sometimesinterrupted by his gratitude offered to other officers. In thissense his memoirs fulfil a further function: the assessment of91Brezhnev, How It Was, 25.92Ibid., 21.66one’s contemporaries. What is particularly interesting to note arethe detailed descriptions of the atmosphere of a specific day,including the weather and emotions. For example, as he states, “Itwas cold, windy, and pitch—dark. . .1 was overwhelmed by a suddenpang of longing to go home. . In addition, Brezhnev alsoremembers receiving a letter from his mother on that same day. Allthese details seem suspicious when one considers that Brezhnev didnot keep a diary during the war. It is useful to expose anotherway in which the topic of the Great Patriotic War is exploited byBrezhnev. In order to justify the Soviet Union’s domination ofEastern Europe following the Second World War, Brezhnev propoundsthe idea that the Soviet people were owed these areas ascompensation for their formidable sacrifices. Moreover, byclaiming control over these countries, Brezhnev maintains thatEastern Europe is obliged to follow a predetermined path asoutlined by Marxist-Leninist teachings. “Now Soviet man hadappeared in Europe as a liberator, and it was very important thathe honourably live up to the noble and humane mission he wasentrusted with.”94 In other words, the Sovietization of EasternEurope was destined to happen. Soviet political memoir, therefore,enables the memoirist to justify his country’s past and presentpolicies.Gromyko also uses political memoir as a tool of apologia whenreferring to the Soviet Union’s expansion in post—war Europe. Not93Ibid., 43.94Ibid., 51.67surprisingly, Gromyko chooses to present a different version to theSoviet people than he does to the West. For instance, Gromykostates that the Eastern European countries wanted to join theSoviet Union following the War since they were impressed by itsstrength. As he asserts,Participants at the conference, such as Poland, Czechoslovakia,and Yugoslavia, expressed opinions close to our own relating tothe glorious issues, even though the difficult situation inthese countries at that time had to be better known. In generalour contacts with their delegations were friendly and efficient:we met their representatives nearly every day.9It appears that Gromyko thinks it more important to harp on theSoviet Union’s right to these areas in the Russian version sincethe emotions of this event run deep in Soviet memory. As aconsequence, Gromyko is exploiting political memoir’s ability tojustify the past and shape social memory.Alternatively, Gromyko deliberately conceals certain facts. Forinstance, he does not discuss the existence of the Molotov—Ribbentrop Pact in the Russian version. Perhaps it was hoped thatits absence would also prevent the resurfacing of a disgracefulincident in Soviet political history. Nevertheless, Gromyko doesgive it a brief mention in the English version. Keeping within theparameters of official interpretation, Gromyko denies the existenceof the secret protocol. He holds that since the chief prosecutorat Nuremburg “labelled it a forgery”96 then the myth behind itsexistence is obvious. “After all,” Gromyko adds, “he made his95Gromyko, Vospominaniya, 240.96Ibid., 38.t-lU)U)CDCtCDCtCtH-CDCD-CDCDCt Ct 0<I-HU)H-CDCD‘.oHCtCt H-CD)i-C)HCtNoH-CDHC) CDU) H0HCDHNC H,CDCD <H-‘-C-ICDCDN‘d0‘-CCDCDCD< -CDH-CDC)‘dCDU)CDC)CDU)toCDH‘-C0CD- rtIU)‘.<C/)HCtHU)<CDHHH-fl)CDCt•H-CDHLoCtCDCDCDCDU)‘1Ct-10H1:-’CDCDH-CDrCDCt“•H-0CDCDH-U)‘‘1H-‘-CCtoH-CCD0CDU)CDCtCtH’H0CDCDCDFlFl•H,<H-H--Ct H-HFlCt(I)H-CDNCDC)CDCDH-CDU)CtH-)CDH-CDCDCDH-HFl0H-C) ‘-‘CoU) H‘-CCDCD‘-‘CCtH-CDU)H,CDU)CDCD‘-CHC)CDCtCDNCDCDCtCD0<CtCD CtCDH‘-CCDHCD‘-<CDCDCDCtFlCD0CDI—’aCtCt.QCDU)‘-30H-H‘<C)0HCtFlbH-CDU)H-0CDFlH,HClCi)CD<H-C)CDH-NCD<0CDH-H-H,LQU)CDCtCtCDCtCt:3HCDCDH’CDCDo0i-QU)H’-H’)—JClCl•H-CDCt-Ct‘-‘CCDCD‘<CD0U)CD,-CDCtH,CDI-CCDCDU)•CDoCDH,CtH-CDH-H-U)FlLQ<CDH-CDCDCDFlCtU)CtCDH-0CDHCDC)0Li-oU)‘-CFlFlC)CtCDCDCDCDCDHCtCDCDU)U)H-Ct<H,(-•U)H-H0CDH,0FlCtCtCDpjNCD-CDCDU)3‘dU)b:iH-CDCDFl<C)CtCDCtH-NH-“U)H’U)H’LQH-ZCDCDCl-U)H-CDCD(-‘CD-ct,-,,CD U)ClHCDClCDFlU)•rCtCtoH0U)H-Ct‘-<NCtCDCDCl)oCl<CDCD‘dCtClFlU)<U)0‘-<0CtCDCDH’CtFlCtCtU)CDCDCDH,iH-H-CDH-Cl0H-C)CDHClCDCDU)CDCDCt0 Fl0CD H’CDU)H-FlCDFlCtClH-CtClH-b0CtCDCD<CtH,CDH-C)CDCDCDH-H-C)CtCD<CD0H-CDCDH-CDCDCtLQClH•0CDCDCtH-H’CtCtCtH,CDCDCtCtU)CtH’U)CDoCt0H-H’CDCD<H-CDCDCDC)00H-H,oH-H-CDH-‘CCDCtCDCDCDH-CtdCtCD‘-‘CCtHH-oCDC)CtZCtU)H’U)HHCD<CtU)CDH-H-FlFl0CDH-CDCD()CtClCDH-CDH-H-U)H-H,ClC)N-H-I—’C)H-C)CDU)CDCDCtClH-CtH-H-00H-C)t1CDCDCtH-CDH-CtFlCtU)oCDCDCtFlCDCDHFlHCDoCD-CtCtCtU)CDCtH-FlH-CtH-0CtQH-H-C])CtoLQ-H,CDCtoCtCDH-FlFlFlCDCD•CttflH-o0 H,H-Ct:3>’CD:iCtCDH-CDCt-H’C)0oFlC)-U)CDFl H-0CDH-FloCDC))Ho0H,1 H’HClH-CtH-C)CDCD:oCtU)CDCtFlFlCD-o—3Ct0H-H U)C)b’ZU)H-CDCD CDCtU)CDFlLQ)H-0CDFl3‘-I H Clo,CD ft CDe,-÷o‘0CD‘1U)CD N—H<ftCDCD‘U)0CDH U)OCDj0CD0N CDH“H H-H<ftCD(D H-0ft‘<U)CD U)ftH-HCD0H)U)U)U)0U)CDCDCDCDU)(nCDQQ.,U)rtH-HU)CDpH-0‘<‘H“N‘H(jLQLQQU)ft’<CDft’ct•‘::iH-CDH-CDfth-‘CDdCD UiU)’rtH0Cl)CDCi)HH-UiftQft(,)HO)CI0U)1Q0CDC-4H-H0HH-ftCD Q1•,••H-CDftU)H-HH0HHU)0<‘dCIH)CDH.U)U)CDU):<CDHftH-CDft0-ftHYU)CDCDH‘•di-U)H-00ftU)hH-ftHrtftL02U)aU)U)piH,1H-CDft<1CDCDHU)CD’<ftCD-t-U)H-CDCDft0HH-(‘U)CDU)0’m Q.0ftft0Co C0r-I-1CDftcU)0H)rtH)0U)C ftCDHCCDCDft00H U)C U)CD0tNU)H-H)U)<CDH CDH-U)CD0 H)H0CD U)U)Hft‘CDiCDp0ftftCDH-Hftft-ftH--U)CDH-(I)CU)<LH0CDCDU)HCDCDHQ.ftNH-0H-U) 0U)-QCZ(Uc1U)H-CDHCDU)H CHU)CDftU)‘-1‘QH-H-CD0-C0(I)(I)H)U)U) ftvJCDZh CD-H U) ftU)-H 0H-ftU)0CriCDCDfrU)CDHHHU)CDH-U)HU)CDU)frQftH-CDU)U)0CDU)HU)CDH)U)ICCDH-H)U)CD U) ftçtHH-U)H0 Hft CDwftCD N0 H,CD <CDH-H-Enzdftz”ft(I)CD0U)HCU)H-H CD‘-HU)CCDHI-ftiU)0HH-ft1ftU)U)::“•0-0CCU)CLQHCDU)CDtnH-H-NU)z ft‘-QHCDHH-H-j-CDCiCDCDH--U)i0,U)(NH-0H-000CftH)U)H-0HLQHH-0HH-U)ft0(1)CDftCDU)CDH-ftCDftHU)U)H--H-—H)CDHftCDH-H0(1)CDCD‘-<H0U)U)IIHH)CDH0‘<)H-H-<‘<o0CDH-U)H-0H-H-U)U)HHCL)ftftU)0H-0CDCD0ftt-0U)Q,0H-H-0CDH 0ftCDCD0CD0H)HHHoU)U)0LQIhi-ftH-U)‘<NCDH0 CD‘1ft-iH-CDCIH-(iH-U)ftzftU)CDftHU)H-U)CDH-0U) ftft‘0CDCDCD—0ClU)-ftH-Ci)‘<0LQHH-H-H-H H-U)CDqt-ClC0H U)CD<1<U)HHCD 0“0H-C-U)0C•)0< H-H-CD00ft<Ca0•(fllD‘-E’ CD CD CD H 0 CD ft 0 H) C-) U) H- ft U) H H- CU H z C U) U) H- U)U)U)CD0CDII‘-1CDH-CD0ft U)U)CDIU)•IClU)H-CDd 0CDU)Hp U)0 H-HftCDH- CDCDU)HH-U) H-ft-- CD H-,:U)CoCDH-0H)H“CDCD<0U)ftoH 0CD ft0‘<H)U)Cl70With the knowledge acquired from this work and others written byLenin, Brezhnev later shows how he rose within the Party’s ranks:To make Lenin’s co—operative plan a reality, the Congressadopted the course of agricultural collectivization.. . myexperience of land—management acquired during the firstcollective farms helped me a good deal in the future whenorganising hundreds of new state farms in the virgin lands ofNorthern Kazakhstan. 100These passages are meant to show how Brezhnev wants the readersto interpret his career’s development—— through merit, notpatronage. In so doing, Brezhnev uses memoir as a vehicle forpolitical legitimation. Moreover, his memoir also reflects theheroes of the old system. Lenin is treated as an inspiration formaintaining the strength of the old, authoritarian forces. Thefact that Brezhnev extensively emphasizes the greatness of Leninmeans that there were forces in Soviet society that reactedpositively to his name. Lenin, therefore, was still a powerfulsymbol of the old system when Brezhnev’s memoirs were published.Gromyko also emphasizes the greatness of a past Soviet leader——Stalin. What is unique about his memoir, however, is that thesecond English edition includes an entire chapter on Stalin’sterror which is not found in the Russian. It is safe to assumethat the new political climate in the Soviet Union pressuredGromyko to add this section. However, the overriding admiration ofStalin and his system in the rest of the book make this chapterunconvincing. The schizophrenic nature of the memoir reflects thetransitional period’s pressures for and against change.100bid., 26.71One can speculate that due to the nature of Gromyko’s ties toStalin, his purpose in upholding Stalin’s leadership abilitiestacitly implies a legitimation of his own role as well. As aresult of the battering Stalin’s image received followingKhrushchev’s secret speech, the positions of Stalinist yes—men suchas Gromyko were in jeopardy. Consequently, Gromyko’s support ofStalin represents more than a fascination, it is also a gesture ofself-defense. The following passage illustrates how Gromykoadmires Stalin’s intellect and his achievements in formulating auniquely “Stalinist” language —- one which was designed for thecommon man:In a word, Stalin was an educated man, and apparently no formaleducation could have given him as much as the work he did onhimself gave him. This work resulted in the famous Stalinistlanguage: his capacity to develop a complicated idea in asimple, popular way.101Gromyko’s admiration teeters on the edge of the absurd when hedescribes Stalin’s physical features. He even denies ever havingnoticed Stalin’s pockmarks.°2 This can only suggest that Gromylcochooses to be blind to the obvious, a characteristic of SocialistRealism, that simultaneously creates a falsified image of Stalinand clears away any controversy surrounding Gromyko’s position.On the other hand, Gromyko’s subsequent criticism of Stalin inhis second English edition does complicate his approach somewhat.But this inconsistency is relegated to the background when comparedto his overwhelming praise of the tyrant. What is more disturbing101Gromyko, Pamyatnoe, 204.102bid , 199.72is the fact that Grornyko is unable to recount the horribleexperiences of the 1930s in any great detail —- particularly hisown role. According to George Kennan, Gromyko has a selectivememory and refuses to challenge his political record:Let us, by all means, permit the past to bury its dead. ButI cannot concede the validity of a view of Russia and herplace in the life of the twentieth century that takes noaccount of any of these developments, or finds them unworthyof specific note in the memoirs of a great and honouredRussian political figure.103The memoirist, according to Kennan, must be accurate in hisrecital of the past, particularly when his eminent position allowedhim to participate in the most monumental episodes in his nation’shistory. Since Gromyko failed to present an accurate portrayal ofSoviet history, his memoir served the interests of those elementsin Soviet society which believed that a very limited degree ofcriticism against Stalin was necessary. Moreover, the “pinning on”of this chapter to a book which is predominantly Stalinist incontent and form, also suggests the influence of the old,oppressive forces in Soviet society. These forces attempted tomeet the minimum demands of the Gorbachev regime while they madetheir Stalinist views quite clear to the reader. This dichotomoussituation reflects the nature of the transitional period whichattempted to disinherit Stalinist historiography to a very limiteddegree.In summary, the topics discussed by Brezhnev and Gromyko show howpowerful Stalinist forces were in Soviet society well past the103Kennan, “Buried”, 3.(I)d‘dC))C!)CtCT)CiCDHU)C))‘t5Q.H-LQ0‘1‘1‘-bCthCDU)<H-H-CiCiCDCDHCDCD00H-C))CD0C).’CDC))CDLQQtTC)C)’H-C)CiHHHHCi)H-HCD0CDU)CtCDCDC))H-,--<H-H-CDH-CtHCt‘TiLQU)CtCDH-H,U)CtU)H-0H-C)JCDHCt0H-C)HCtC))U)0XC)CDCD‘-<I-’CtCtH,HC2Ct(I)0‘C).’C))CDC))Cl)t0C)’H,0•CtCtH)HC))C)H,C)):DC)1CDC))CDCD0CtCD0U).‘‘1 CDCDHC)HC))C))HH,H,CtCtHrt-OCD‘QU)HCiCDçtC)<C)HC))‘TiHC)H-H0CDH,CtCD‘-0CtH-CDCD°‘1CDrt-”C))‘1U)CDHH-HCDCiH-H-CD•CDHQC)0HC)CtCiC)CtCt0CtH-‘TiH1C))H-C).’0HU)C)H-0CDH,CDiCDtQCD-QC)1Ct)tiHCiH-CDCiH)CDCDC)CtHU)H‘<CDCtC)0CDHCDCDU)C)CtOCtHH0bCtCDHU)0CDHH,C)0CDHHCt-HH-‘1‘ICD<U)HCtCtQCDCI)Ci01HCl)‘-QCtCDC)CDC))U)0CtCDCtH(DbC)CiCiC)’CDU)U)•ClCtU)C)HH-CDCDCtH-•H-CtCtCt0<C))CDCDCtCDHCDU)C-H,CDU)‘10C))H--0CDCDH CDCtCiQ0C))CtHCDCtHU)H0CDH,H,H-H-CtCtCtCtCDH-CDCtC)CDCDCDU)CD‘<‘<C))CD‘-0H-U)CD—HN0CDCDCDCD0U)<0H-U)H-.‘CtH-ClCiCtH-0CtCtH-V0H0-U)CDCDC))U)CtC),.<0H-CtCDCiCDU)HCtCD-U)<ICDClCDCDCDCt0ClH-ç.’.i—a0Ci)HH-0C))HU)j0110U)U)H-H-C)U)CtCtCtZCt<H,CDC))C)0CDCtLQC))(C)CiC)C))-0HCDH-H HICiQH-HCtCtH-CtCDHH-H-H-H-C)H-0‘<CDH-iCDC))CtC)HCDZCDHH-H,CD-iCl1<C))J0QH-i1:-ICtCtC))0CDCtCDCDCDCt0C))0CiH-H0U)(I)0CDH-H,CDH-CDH-HCiCiCDCDClNU)C))-CtaiiCtH-H-H-Ctb0Ci0U)0CDaCD.<CDCtUU)U)CD•H-CtCDU)CtC)H-HC))0‘1QU)C))HCtC?)H-CtH,CiH-C)CD0CDCl)CtHZC))0Ct0C))H-C))CtH-H,C)-‘CDH,QU)H-H,HCD0CD.‘CDH,CtH-C))U)CtH-C)H-CtH-C))H-0CtCt11I-’C))0CD1H-CDC))CtCD.U)fr<CDC))C).C))U)CDQ.ClC)CDCtHCl)hLQClCtU)CD•-CDZU)U)0CtCDL3C) H-HC)H-U) Q(D•.CDU)U)0-i-3CDI-”HCD1 U)OD CD()NCDH•CDCt 1< O H)DCDCl)HCD<U)CDi 0 U)U)C)HOU) CnOF-’CtCDU)C))HU)C)CtOCDCDCD CtCl)U)H-0Flrt<CDI-’-H-OCDCnCt(1 )1 HHHH- OLQ HCt- U)CDCl) 0dC)0H-H-HU)r1H-HCDCtHH-U)C)CtCl) CtHCDCtU)CC)U)HU)H-H-CtU) CtU) CtH0H-ti‘10OZU) CtU)O:iFlQCDU) HH-H-OCt (1)C) CDH-CtCDCDCD0‘-<I—’U)0Cl)Fl-QCtXF-’-FlI-’-C)CDU)U)U)CtHU)0 FlH-rU)C)-U)CDH-C)U)FlU)OCtHOU)OU)1)H-C)‘-QCt-U)ctC)OFlP.H-P.c-l-HCD.HC)HCC)•HU)U)H)HC)•CDCDctU)H-,0.H-Irt,--’LQOU) U)CDU)CtH-’<CtCtri_CtH-H-CDQU)U)00WH°Ct0OCDQEtHU)H-FlOQC)L_Q•H-CDH-H-CtU)C)OOCDC1U)Fl0HU)HH)U)H.Ct0H-OHU)OHWHH-U)ClCDC)CtCtCDCDQU)O-ct U)Ct’zIC)--CDtj0HCD-U)H-Ct-H-CtCDHp)C)U)QCtb-U)CDHCD.H-CtCtU)HH)HOHC)U)CtO•CtH-U)C)U)CDCtCDClCDH-3CtCtCDCDU).H-U)HU)FlCtHU) CtU)CDtClCtU)CDC)HCt-U)FlCDH0CtClU)HClU)U)H)U)CtOU)CtC)H-’<ClCDFld0HU)CtCt ‘I H-U) U)H z CD x U) H CD 0 H) w Fl CD N CD U) H U) CD H- U) H) 0 Cl H H- U) CD 0 H Fl 0CDH U)‘1‘-H çtU)CD FlCD 0 H)U) ClCt CDOU) Ct-CDCDCDCD Ct-U)H)CDC)CD Fl U)FlOC)rt0 HCDHFlFlH-CD<i-QCDH-H)FlU)CDFlCD-Ct0U)FlU) U)CDCD H Hz CD 1< Fl HCDCDU) U)U)H H-Cl) HH0 CJ) HC)<CD HH DU1HII H Ct H-C) U) H Cl) Fl CDCl H H) H) CD Fl CD Ct U) 0 C) H- U) H U) U) Ct CD U) ‘I CD C) ‘I Ct Fl 0 LQ 0 Ct II CD N CD U) CD 0 H Fl U)CDHU)<aCtU)U)CtHCDCDU)U)TCtCDH-Fl•N-U)H-H)0CDCDU)1ClLQH--C_)U)H-HH:jC!)CD‘ICDoH0H-tQU)C)U)U)CDU)FlH-OCtClCtCDOi<HU)CtHCDHU)H-C!)l_QU)U)CDFlC)FlCtU)ClCt0OU)U)H-CDHFlH)CDH) U)U)0H) H)FlH-H‘IU)CtClCt-LQCDCDU)CDFlCtHCtH-:CDCDFlH-CDU)CD:iCtH-CtU)0ClCDHH)U)ClH-HH0H 0CtCD,<U)U)U)xHH-0Ct:U)•CDHCDH-CtHD00U)00H-CtCt‘ICDU)bU)ClCD0CD—I75jargon quite extensively. Although his language tends to be alittle more sophisticated than Brezhnev’s, his words are stillheavily political in nature. A good example is Gromyko’sdescription of Mao’s success in 1949:Led by the Communist Party, the people had seized power from thebourgeoisie and landowners. Chiang Kai—Shek’s armies had beenrouted, and the country rejoiced at the opportunity to create anindependent state which would move along the path of socialisttransformation in its economic and social life.107Words such as “bourgeoisie” and “proletariat” are characteristicof the type of language found in both memoirs. These words aretypically Marxist in nature and show how constrained the inemoiristswere when they wrote their works. Their choice of words wassubject to the same ideological restrictions as were their topicsof discussion. These restrictions, moreover, are the trademarks ofthe Stalinist era, which thereby suggest the influence ofrepressive attitudes in the writing of Brezhnev and Groinyko’smemoirs. Therefore, even the study of language illustrates thevalue of Soviet political memoir’s ability to describe thepolitical situation in Soviet society.Another way of evaluating the authors’ treatment of theirsubjects is by studying their tone. Brezhnev seems quite insincereand artificial through his frequent use of exclamatory marks,interrogatory sentences, and dialogue. For example, in How it was,Brezhnev recalls the cheers of Soviet soldiers at the May 1st 1943celebrations when red flags were put in his brigade’s position:107Gromyko, Memoirs 1990, 248.76“Look at that you lousy Nazi! What have you got to say tothat?”108 This method actually seems more suitable for a storythan a memoir. Although Gromyko’s words are more sophisticatedthan Brezhnev’s, he too displays an insincere and artificial tone.For instance, Gromyko subtly puts down Mao as is evident by hissarcastic tone: “Of Mao himself, I might add that, if onedisregarded his theoretical aims, philosophical concepts andpeculiar views on politics, he was on the whole a nice man, andcourteous too.”109 This coldness and detachment is foundthroughout Gromyko’s work. The tone, therefore, tells a lot aboutthe meinoirist’s personality and the level at which he wants hisideas to be conveyed. Brezhnev chose the candid path whereasGromyko preferred to be more subtle.In addition, the memoirist’s tone tells the historian somethingabout the political forces that lay behind his memoir’s production.Generally, Brezhnev and Gromyko discuss topics in an impersonal andnon—descriptive way in order to conceal any possible doubt aboutthe past. It seems that the detached method makes the avoidance ofself—criticism less apparent. This tone is reminiscent of theStalinist era’s stress on dispossessing aesthetic qualities fromwriting and instead focusing strictly on material concerns. Onecan speculate that the parties who were involved in the productionof Brezhnev’s and Grornyko’s memoirs used old, Stalinist techniquesas a way to reinforce the old political order and its aversion to108L.I. Brezhnev, How It Was: The War and Post-WarReconstruction in the Soviet Union. Oxford: Pergamon Press Ltd.,1979, 19.109Gromyko, Memoirs, 252.77self-criticism.Tone and diction also play an important role in setting the focusof an audience. Brezhnev does not change his manner of speech ineither translation and thus chooses to give a simplistic story-likerecital to the English as well as the Russian audience. Apart froma few sentences found in the Russian, the only notable differencebetween the two language versions is the inclusion of two chaptersin the Russian —— “Cosmic October” and “A Word about Communists.”Both chapters harp on the success of Marxism—Leninism and one couldspeculate that they were intended as propaganda. Gromyko also hasan additional chapter on Stalin but it is included only in thesecond English edition. Consequently, several critics accusedGromyko of being insincere in his criticism of Stalin and of merelyfollowing the new progressive trend under Gorbachev. Nonetheless,the fact that he did include it only in a revised second edition inEnglish underscores his intended audience and message. Therevision also reflects the political changes that occurred inSoviet society near the end of the transitional period.Yet the overall message is not one of a new view of Soviethistory. Instead, it is essentially Stalinist in its attitude witha minor revision added on. The forces of glasnost undoubtedly laybehind the inclusion of this chapter but they are insignificant inthe face of Stalinist forces which predominated in the rest of thememoir. This situation clearly illustrates the prominent positionof repressive, Stalinist attitudes in Soviet society at the timeGromyko’s memoirs were published.78A unique aspect of Brezhnev’s and Gromyko’s memoirs is the wayin which the authors narrate their childhoods. According toKaterina Clark, the authors of Socialist Realist literature sharea primary commitment to myth through their popularization ofideology.110 “But the commitment to myth-making alone is not themark of their Socialist Realism,” Clark maintains; “[t]he point ofconvergence that makes these disparate works form a singletradition is the informing scheme of human biography that underlieseach work and has its roots in Marxist-Leninist historiography andrevolutionary lore.”111 The author aims to pattern his own lifeaccording to the legendary traits of the revolutionary hero who wastypically of Russian and Proletarian stock. Both Brezhnev andGromyko begin their discussions at childhood. The developmentalpattern from a child to a state leader is embellished with Sovietrhetoric. In Brezhnev’s case, this pattern is only evident in hisMemoirs which deals with his life as a factory worker and how hegrew to be a devoted Communist. As the following passage willillustrate, this developmental approach serves a definitive purpose—— justification of Brezhnev’s proletarian roots. In so doing,Brezhnev accomplishes two purposes: he brings himself closer tothe Soviet audience by making himself seem as one of them andreaffirms the Communist credo of a strong proletarian solidarity tohis Western readers. According to Brezhnev:0Katerina Clark, The Soviet Novel: History as Ritual.Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981, 44.Ibid.79I belonged to this class by birth, was brought up in thismilieu and was so to speak, linked to it by blood ties. Myfather remained a worker until the end of his days. Mygrandfather, my mother’s brothers, my uncles and myself, whenthe time came to start at the factory, were all workers.. .TheBrezhnev family gave many decades of its life to the factorylists. 112Brezhnev also emphasizes his ethnic and class roots when hedeclares, “I am Russian by nationality a dyed—in—the--woolproletariat and a metallurgist by inheritance. That is all I knowabout my pedigree.”113Gromyko, likewise, sees it as important to trace his politicaldevelopment from childhood through to his last days as a Sovietstatesman. With respect to the developmental method, Gromykodiscusses his family’s genealogy by giving us details about theorigin of his last name and its connections to the town of hischildhood, Gomel.114 This yet again is another instance of theStalinist style in Gromyko’s memoirs.This pattern also illustrates one of the most enduring symbolsof the old, Stalinist attitude. Distinctions of prominence werealways based on class and ethnic origins. Incidents of repressionagainst various “bourgeois” elements, Jews, as well asnationalities such as the Georgians and Crimean Tartars, werenumerous in the Stalin period. Understandably, therefore, one who2Leonid Ilyich Brezhnev, Memoirs, (Pergamon Press: Toronto,1982), [hereinafter cited as “Brezhnev, Memoirs,”] 9—10.113Brezhnev, Memoirs, 9—10.114Andrei Gromyko, Memories, transi. Harold Shukman (London:Century Hutchinson Ltd., 1990), 2.80was not of proletarian and Russian stock faced a precarious futurein politics. Since many members of the Soviet elite met neithercriteria, their aim was either to exaggerate a minor incident oreven fabricate a background that would make them seem legitimatemembers of the Soviet establishment.The fear of not conforming to the Marxist—Leninist image wasquite prevalent in the Stalinist period. Since Brezhnev andGromyko both vehemently stressed the legitimacy of their ethnic andclass roots, then one can definitely see the enduring influence ofStalinist attitudes during the time of their memoirs’ publications.Brezhnev’s and Gromyko’s memoirs are thus valuable researchsources when appreciated as mirrors of a regime’s image rather thanscorned for their mythical representations. No one can deny theirpolemical structure, and since this is a reality inherent in thehistory of Soviet literary policy and political parlance, then oneshould understand these memoirs for what they are and not for whatthey should be. Since their language and method are strikinglyanimated, the task of the historian should not be to ignore theirsignificance because of their lack of truthful representation.Instead, historians should study the values embodied in these textsbecause, regardless of their truthfulness, these values were heldin Soviet society by writers and readers alike. Brezhnev andGromyko tell the audience what a certain segment of Soviet societywanted to be told: specifically, that the Stalinist social orderremained in place and that the traditional interpretation of Soviet81remained in place and that the traditional interpretation of Soviethistory was valid.Brezhnev’s and Gromyko’s memoirs are also important for what theydo not tell us directly. The topics of hero worship, the GreatPatriotic War, and the glorification of a mythical Soviet societywere shown to be the tools of Stalinist forces that wanted toexpress their loyalty for the old system. Since such illusions ofgrandeur were vehemently embraced at a time of serious economic andpolitical collapse, the forces of Stalinism were doubtless stillalive. In addition, the study of Soviet literary history and theimpact of Socialist Realism shows how memoir literature representsanother catechism in the repertoire of official doctrine. The factthat Stalinist attitudes were prevalent in both these memoirs andin Soviet society makes the texts important for analysis of abygone era.82Chapter Four:Glasnost: The Case of Sakharov and ShevardnadzeOne of the most significant words to appeare recently in theEnglish and Russian languages is “glasnost.” This word representsthe revolutionary political change that overtook the Soviet Unionwhen Mikhail Gorbachev became General Secretary in 1985. Glasnosthas opened up one of the most fascinating chapters in Russiancultural history. My choice of words is deliberate, both theemphasis on history and the stress on “cultural” (albeit in a widesense). Whether glasnost will have a lasting impact on thepolitical future of the country is uncertain and, in any case,cannot be answered today.Under glasnost complaints about many aspects of Soviet societyhave been voiced in a way that was unthinkable even a few yearsago: books have been published, plays and movies performed,pictures and sculptures exhibited that were banned for many years.Informal societies outside the party as well as officiallysponsored organizations freely discuss topics that were formerlytaboo.Glasnost has made possible the publication of memoirs from anumber of noteworthy figures, particularly from the politicalrealm. Since glasnost means the willingness of the Soviet Union tohear the truth about itself, without the fear of repressiveliterary controls that characterized the Stalinist, and to someextent, the transitional periods, a number of dark secrets aboutthe Soviet past have appeared in the memoirs of a number of formerStalinists. A very recent example is found in The Globe and MailH HC) H U) 0 CD H ft CD CD 0 ft U) U) I-1 CD C) H 0 CD :J) H H H- HPH-0H-C)CDCDH)iZCD1))H-0<H)(I)H-U)H-C)IIC)U)ICD0ftftftHU)HftftHHIIH-CDC)CDH-CDU)•)10L.QHU)C))‘dC))?U)Ht-’•C)CDQCDftCD•CDtCU)H-ClH-C)ftClCDCDU)<CDCfl0C))Cl--HJCDftCDC))ftC))U)H-U)CD0HCDCI-HU)H-ftU)HH-CDHftCD0ClCDC)(I)C)ftH)C)(I)U)CDCDU)I-’ft0CDt3H-CDftHC))U)ft-c<U)CDC) H-H-Q.CD0ftftH)ftCDC)H-0riCD0ftCDC)U)CDC)CDC)CIH-ClHHHCDH-H-U)H-H)<ftC)QHH--HClH)HC)H-C))Q0k<0CD,g-U)C)’b<0ftt-’ftH-U)C))CDCDC)C))trjCDCDC)HC!)CDCDCDHCD<C)tiH-C))<ICD‘CDH-0HH-CDCDCDCDø.H-U)-C)H(C)ClCDHIICl-CDftftCDU)H-C))CD00rt0HH)JCDCDftftCDU)U)U)rt0H-ftCD0H-0CD0(fiH-C])0ft-tft0ftQCD<C))<C)H-C)<CDHCDiH-C)C))C))CDCD0)0HLQ(-I(fiH0‘H)H-0CD‘<ftH-CDCD0bHH-HCDU)CDU)U)c-I-H-LCClCDH-‘<tftU)U)HZCDftftH-U)0ftH-CtftHH-b0)IIftC))<C))CDCDHC))II00)U)ftCDCD<CDU)CDH•dHHClCl)Cl)ft00‘0CDCD0C)0H)CD00)H-NI-H-HCDH-—ZCDdd-ClftCD0t-LQC)’CDU)H-H-H-U)HCDH-U)HhCU)H)0ft00CD•.C))0HftU)jMH)frH-CD<H-Hft-ftH-U)0C)I-i-HC))0)CDCDCDCDHI<CDU)HClMt0CDC)CD.<CDt-C)HC)CDHH1CDU)CDC)0U)Ht3rI-‘1H-CDH-0U)0C))-HC)CDCIH-U)ftCDC))HhCU)CD0U)t-CDCDHH(C)ftft<H)H-C))H)HIU)C)ftC)HHCDCDfrCD‘ClCDU)CD•H-CDHCDC))0)0C)ft<1U)dH-HH)HC)H-U)0?0C)<C))H-C)’CDU)H)H-H0ft0CD<<H-U)H-HCD•.—H)CDtiC)’ftC).C))0ft0-H 0HIH-(C)JftZZHCDCDCDC))0ftI-1000Hz<ftIC)’0CDCDCDC))lU)C))HCDftiCDH0dH00<0H-ft0(1)CD-U)C))ftU)CDU)00ftH)t-ftIU)CD0CD—ftH)HH-CDCl)0CDXHtiCDHC))IC))H-CDftCU)I0ClftC))IC)<H-LQftCD0)IJH-H-CllCDCDft0CDCDc-I-CZCDICl1<ftU)Cl‘10(‘384Strobe Talbott contends, “[t]here are no indications in the newtapes that anything else has been deleted or held back. We believethat the Khrushchev archive is now complete.” Glasnost supportersobviously believed that it was an appropriate time to release thetapes and show the world the Soviet Union’s new political course.Soviet political memoirs finally were treated and received in asimilar fashion to their Western counterparts. This situationresulted only because of the demand for openness and the witheringaway of repressive literary controls. A new order emerged inSoviet society which was reflected through the new types of Sovietpolitical memoirs that were being published in the Soviet Union.Specifically, a Westernized Soviet political memoir mirrored theemergence of a Westernized Soviet political culture.The memoirs of Andrei Sakharov and Eduard Shevardnadze are thefocus of this chapter. The reasons for studying them are twofold:first, they represent a different, “emergent” order in Sovietsociety; second, they both share similar characteristics whichmakes comparing them easier.A brief description of the men and their memoirs will showhow significant they are to Soviet history. Andrei Sakharov isknown as the “father of the hydrogen bomb.” His numerousachievements as a prominent member of the Academy of Sciences wonhim international respect as a world—class scientist. Sakharovbecame a human—rights campaigner, first and foremost, because hesaw that Soviet science was corrupted by politics. In 1964 hevoted against the admission of fraudulent but well—connected85biologists to the Academy of Sciences. Then, in 1968, the year ofthe invasion of Czechoslovakia and two years after the failure ofan early attempt at economic reform, he made his decisive break.Convinced that it was impossible to create an effective antiballistic-missile defense, and horrified by new knowledge about thepractical consequences of thermonuclear war, Sakharov published“Reflections on Progress, Peaceful Coexistence and IntellectualFreedom”, arguing that the main hope of avoiding mass destructionlay in the convergence of the communist and capitalist worlds.From this time until 1986, Andrei Sakharov faced the wrath of theSoviet authorities, who eventually stripped him of all hisgovernment awards and banished him to the closed city of Gorky in1980, where he lived under constant surveillance for the next sixyears. In 1986, Gorbachev invited Sakharov to return to Moscow andresume his work in the human rights movement. In this chapter, Iwill analyze Memoirs(1990) and Moscow and Beyond, 1986 to1989(1991)Eduard Shevardnadze is famous for his achievements as SovietForeign Minister from 1985 to 1990. He helped Mikhail Gorbachevpromote the Soviet Union’s new policies of glasnost andperestroika. Under Shevardnadze, the Soviet Union experiencedunprecedented changes, such as the withdrawal of troops fromAfghanistan, the reunification of Germany, nuclear disarmament,and, probably the most rewarding of all, rapprochement with theUnited States. Unfortunately, the pressure that he faced from theright-wing section of the Communist Party along with Gorbachev’s86unwillingness to accelerate the rate of change, forced Shevardnadzeto resign his position as Soviet Foreign Minister in December 1990.I will analyze his memoir The Future Belongs to Freedom(1991).The events behind the memoirs’ production differ somewhat fromthose of Khrushchev and Grigorenko. Although the memoirs in thischapter were not free of external harassment and obstruction, theirfinal publication occurred in the Soviet Union and the West withoutthe obstructions that plagued the manuscripts initially. Somechapters of Sakharov’s manuscript were stolen in November of 1978during a “covert search of [his] apartment.”16 In March 1981,the KGB confiscated “a bag containing notebooks, documents, anddiaries, and once again parts of the memoirs were lost.”117 InOctober of 1982, the KGB stole another 900 pages of the manuscript,while additional material was confiscated from his wife while shewas travelling from Gorky to Moscow by train.118 Despite theheart attack she suffered in April 1983, Elena Bonner passed onsix—month’s work of the memoir to a mysterious figure whom Sakharovrefuses to identify. The KGB’s attempts to harass Sakharov showedboth its need to prevent his noble story’s exposure, and itsknowledge that his immense reputation made it impossible to shuthim up by simply killing him. Yet, Sakharov’s reluctance toidentify some of the personalities involved in the smuggling of his6Andrei Sakharov, Memoirs, London: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.,1990, xix.117bjd118bid87memoirs may stem from his fear that they would suffer at the handsof the KGB. This fear was apparent even in 1990 when his Memoirswere published. Nevertheless, the fact that they eventually werepublished in the Soviet Union in 1990, without the KGB’sharassment, indicates the influence of the new, “emergent” forcesin Soviet politics. This idea gains strength when one considersthat his Moscow and Beyond, 1986 to 1989 did not face any known KGBinterference.In contrast, the only problems that Shevardnadze encountered withthe production of his memoirs were with his editors. According toShevardnadze, “the editors had departed from their initial idea ofpublishing the material in its original form.”119 Instead, theyhad reworked the material by topic: the new thinking, Europeanaffairs, global problems, and so forth. “I didn’t feel that thiswas the best way of doing it,” Shevardnadze contends, “Torn fromthe actual context where they had been articulated, my ideas hadlost their original currency and had become abstract and academic.A few insertions of a personal nature hadn’t saved themanuscript.”120 As a result of his despair over the book as wellas the events that had unfolded in the Soviet Union, Shevardnadzedecided to put the memoir on hold. He decided to resume memoirwriting only after his resignation. Since the story behind theproduction of Shevardnadze’s memoirs is free of Stalinist literary9Eduard Shevardnadze, The Future Belongs to Freedom, London:Sinclair—Stevenson Ltd., 1991, xvi.120bid.88controls, the influence of the new, “emergent” attitudes ofglasnost are quite apparent. Literature that was highly criticalof the Soviet system, particularly from eminent figures in society,was not obstructed as were Sakharov’s before 1986 and Khrushchev’sin the late 1960s.The method of analysis in this chapter is the same as thatfollowed in the last two chapters. Content and form are againstudied to show how Sakharov’s and Shevardnadze’s memoirs reflecta new, “emergent” force in Soviet society. Specifically, thenature of the interpretation of events will reveal an attitude thatcan not only denounce the old Stalinist system, but also is willingto look at itself critically. I chose to group the eventsdiscussed in this chapter under three general categories: theportrayal of Soviet life, the perception of the West, and the “new”system. These three categories will reveal a marked contrast tothe interpretations of similar events made in the pre—glasnostsection of this paper. Style, moreover, will include diction,tone, audience, and narrative genres. Finally, I will show howwell the memoirs were received by Western critics. The aim againis to show how the memoirists’ interpretation of events and writingstyle illustrate the influence of new attitudes in Soviet politicalculture.The first striking characteristic of glasnost memoirs is theirdark portrayal of Soviet life. Sakharov makes it clear that thedreadful state that the Soviet Union faces stems from Stalin andhis oppressive system. The remnants of the old system persist and89only if they are completely discarded does the Soviet Union haveany hope of progess. The following passage illustrates howdepressing life was under Stalin —— a completely contradictory viewfrom that given by Brezhnev and Gromyko. Moreover, the followingpassage also shows how memoir can be used to teach lessons toposterity by exposing the mistakes of the past and urging thereader to take a different course. According to Sakharov, mostfamilies experienced terror under Stalin’s rule:Different classes of society were affected to differentdegrees, of course, but the number of those who died was inthe millions. They perished from a whole range of cataclysms:the deportation of Kulaks. . .the famine followingcollectivization; witch hunts for ‘saboteurs’ and ‘enemies ofthe people’...spy mania...and other causes both familiar andobscure. Millions more died in the war, and the magnitude ofthe losses must be charged to the regime and thedisorganization it produced. All those terrible events arenow part of history, but their effects persist.121Despite the dark picture, however, Sakharov also tries to drawa more realistic picture of Soviet life by illustrating how even hewas in awe of Stalin’s power. Stalinism was so pervasive that whenthe tyrant died, people were dumbfounded and afraid of theunexpected. The following passage demonstrates another function ofpolitical memoir —— apologia. Although Sakharov was never astaunch supporter of Stalin, he was nevertheless shocked when heheard about his death. Sakharov recounts why he uttered thesentence, “I am thinking of his humanity”122 in reaction to thenews:121Sakharov, Memoirs, 23.122bid., 164.90Very soon I would be blushing every time I recalled thesesentiments of mine. I can’t fully explain it -— after all, Iknew quite enough about the horrible crimes that had beencommitted —- the arrests of innocent people, the torture, thedeliberate starvation, and all the violence—— to pass judgmenton those responsible. But I hadn’t put the whole picturetogether, and in any case, there was still a lot I didn’t know.Somewhere at the back of my mind the idea existed, instilled bypropaganda, that suffering is inevitable during great historicupheavals. ‘When you chop wood, the chips fly. ‘ I was alsoaffected by the general mourning and by a sense of death’suniversal dominion. I was more impressionable than I care torecall. 123Sakharov explains why he was once impressed by Stalin’s power notonly to apologize for his past, but also to show the reader thateven the Soviet Union’s foremost leader of Human Rights was just asimpressionable as anyone else. This interpretation also representsthe views of the new forces in Soviet society who are willing tolook at their history critically.Shevardnadze is quite detailed in his descriptions of Sovietlife. He seems to be informing the reader about the true state ofliving conditions in the Soviet Union as a way of proving hisdedication to glasnost and its stress on the truth. The followingpassage illustrates the didactic function of political memoir inteaching the audience about the weaknesses of the Soviet system.As Shevardnadze contends,Yes, democracy, freedom, and justice cannot exist outside ofany kind of social system, but we would have to ignore realityaltogether to assert that the ‘socialist model’ we haveconstructed here contains any semblance of those qualities.Or one can simply go out on the street and see people’s faces,how they are dressed, what kind of apartments they live in,what their working conditions are, and how little it allresembles a life worthy of a human being, how hopelessly far123bidH HT\JU) CD 0) ‘1 0) N CD CD ft CD CD H 0 Co ft 0 xj CD CD 0 01 —IftC)I-C)0)Co0)Co.QLQi,fto0CD0b<<H-H-0H-HQftCoCoH-C)ftCo<<1CDH-CoICftftCDCCoftH-r1CDCDC)CoftftU)t-ftCDCDftCD0CDCD0)ftCoCDQCDCDCoC)P)0)ftftH-C)ftCDHCCDftCoHCD<HftH-CD0CDCDH-H-CDH-CH-0)Co‘-ftft-t-0ft<Q.CD0)ftCDH0)HCCDCDHCDH-dftCDftCohCDCDQCoH0)CD)0CDft0ftftCDtFCDaHNH-C)CDCD0ftftCDHQCDftCDCD--0H-CDH-ftCoH-(0CDC)0)Hft•CD0)Wftft0-‘Co<00ftHftCDH)CDCDCDCD°CoHft0Co(fl0)CoH-0ft-H-00)CDftH-Co0)ft(0CDCD0CDH-CoC)CDCoC)H-C1-CDHH-HCoCDftftF-00)H)CD•QH-CDb00)0ftH-CoHCDftftH°CH)CoftCoHftH)ftft0ftOH,H-CDrCDftCD0)0C)H(DCoHCDft—H0HiCoCoHH00)00H-CDCDoCoZH-CDCoCoCoU)CDCDH-Co0CD0)CD(0ftCD‘CD--oCDft0)H-ctH-CH)H-CoCDH-H-(D000)CD0)(0ftbCo1ftC)0)H-H-0ftHQ.’H-0H-ft‘<0tQCoCDH-CoH()oD)<,.CoZft-ftHHHCDftH-Co0ftCH) HCDH-CoCo<H-CD(I)CDCHCoH-CDCoNH-CDftCoCDCDZCHC)H-CDdCo0’CD0’CoH-QH-H-H)1C)<•-t-CDftH-H-ftCoCoft0CDCD°H-0’QCoH-CoCoftft.Z:0’C)Q0)LftCD‘HCtH.CDCD•CDCDft0)CDCoCoHOCH-H0)CoCDH-.Co‘<0C)•H-OCo0)0tYQLQoH-ct000H-fti(0vtCobH0Hft0CoCDftOCDiCDgH0)0QCftCDftftCDH-HCoCoC)CD0’Co<0)CDQ.CDU)CDH-CDCDCDCDft0’CooCD(0o-C-CD‘-<ftHC)CDCD”ftft1<H-ftH-0CDCDH-CDCDCoUftCDftftCDftCD0)CoftCDft0OHftCDH0)Cl)ft0)H0)CDOHfrhCDCDCDOoo0)HH-CoHH-HH-CCoHftCD(1)ft0QCoQ.CD(0CoftCDH<H92radical difference from pre—glasnost memoirs that portrayed theWest as a corrupt, iniquitous society. Sakharov gives a highlypositive view of Canada and sees it as a distinguished nation.According to Sakharov,From Italy we flew to Canada, a completely different world --a prosperous, hard—working nation, not smug in any way, notself—centred, without very much in the way of history. ‘Canadacould serve as a model country’, I remarked in one of myspeeches, if it weren’t so difficult to follow the example ofothers. 126Sakharov uses memoir to instruct his readers as to what heconsiders to be a desirable society. The passage also indicateshow Sakharov is giving a contradictory view of the West fromthe one traditionally given by staunch conservatives such asBrezhnev and Gromyko. In effect, Sakharov’s interpretation isreflective of the new, “emergent” forces in Soviet society that arewilling to admit that the West has several attractive aspects.Shevardnadze’s appraisals of the West are also quite flattering.His views are most pronounced when he describes some of America’stop political figures. George Schultz is given the most flatteringevaluation. The following passage demonstrates another function ofpolitical memoir —— evaluation of one’s contemporaries. What is ofparticular significance however, is that a former Soviet ForeignMinister praises an American counterpart. This positivedescription underscores the new attitudes in Soviet society thatwant to instill trust in America and its politicians who may one126Andrei Sakharov, Moscow and Beyond, 1986-1989, New York:Alfred A. Knopf, 1991, 103.93day play a pivotal role in the Soviet Union’s recovery. This isquite evident when Shevardnadze talks about his close relationshipwith George Schultz:Perhaps for the first time in the history of relations betweenour two countries, the foreign ministers of the U.S.S.R. andthe United States visited each other’s homes and met eachother’s children and grandchildren.. .When we sat at thenegotiation table —— either surrounded by colleagues or one onone—— nothing prevented us from remaining ourselves inoutlining our positions and trying to bring them closer. Ifone of us said, ‘I can’t go any farther than that,’ the otherunderstood: ‘That’s how it really is. He isn’t bluffing.’27Although Shevardnadze gives a positive portrayal of the Westoverall, and even concedes that “often the notion of the enemy wasartificially cultivated in the interests of the ruling regimes andmonarchs”128, he refuses to exonerate America’s role in the ColdWar. The following excerpt illustrates how Shevardnadze usesmemoir to vindicate the Soviet Union’s involvement in starting theCold War. He places all blame on the Americans since they builtthe first nuclear device. As Shevardnadze asserts, “No one woulddispute the fact that the first recipe for the bomb was notconcocted in the Soviet Union; it was not our country that beganthe nuclear arms race or repeatedly pushed the Cold War to thethreshold of a hot war.”129 Although glasnost memoirs give aradically different view of the West, the Cold War is stillinterpreted as America’s fault. Perhaps this issue is still too127Shevardnadze, The Future Belongs to Freedom, 72.128bid., 65.129bid., 93.94sensitive for the Soviets to accept more responsibility.A final topic that must be addressed is the authors’ vision ofa “new” system. Both men have similar views on the changes neededin the Soviet Union. They also give explanations for their changedoutlook on the future since they once performed important functionsfor the “old” system. This aspect of the memoirs is significantsince it shows how memoir is used as an apologia. The authorsexplain their reasons for their former views by drawing a pictureof the type of atmosphere they had to work in which madealternative measures unlikely. The biggest question that facedSakharov was his involvement in building the hydrogen bomb for theSoviet Union. Ironically, the man who was the father of thehydrogen bomb ultimately became the foremost opponent of nucleararms. Sakharov’s reasons for building it are clearly reminiscentof a naive scientist who did not think of the consequences. Hemaintains that the Second World War also had a major influence onhis decision to build the bomb. As he declares, “1 had no realchoice in the matter, but the concentration, total absorption, andenergy I brought to the task were my own. Now that so many yearshave passed -- I would like to explain my dedication -- not leastto myself. One reason for it (though not the main one) was theopportunity to do “superb physics.”13° “Moreover,” Sakharovcontinues,I understood of course, the terrifying, inhuman nature of theweapons we were building. But the recent war had also been anexercise in barbarity; and although I hadn’t fought in that130Sakharov,Memoirs, 96.95conflict, I regarded myself as a soldier in this newscientific war. (Kurchatov himself said we were ‘soldiers, ‘ andthis was no idle remark.)131Sakharov shows how he eventually made his decision to stop hiswork on thermonuclear testing and join the disarmament movement.His transformation was intellectual rather than ideological:During the second half of the 1960s, I became involved indiscussions of a still broader range of problems. I readeconomic and technical studies concerning the production ofradioactive substances, nuclear weapons, and delivery systems,visited several secret military facilities. . .What I learnedwas more than sufficient to impress upon me the horror, thereal danger, and the utter insanity of thermonuclear warfare,which threatens everyone on earth. . . Gradually, subconsciously,I was approaching an irrevocable step —— a wide—ranging publicstatement on war and peace and other global issues. I tookthat step in 1968.132The “new” social model that Sakharov came to support was onewhich expelled not only Stalinism but the entire Soviet system.His solution to the threat of global destruction was theintegration of socialist and capitalist ideas.“I am convinced that their [global problems] solution demandsconvergence —— the process that has already begun of thepluralistic transformation of capitalist and socialistsocieties (in the USSR it’s called perestroika). Theimmediate goal is the creation of a system that is efficient(which means a market and competition), socially just, andecologically responsible. ,,133Finally, Sakharov believes that there is only one person who isable to lead the Soviet Union along the new course—— Gorbachev.131bid., 97.132bid., 268.133bid., 160.96Although Sakharov is not entirely satisfied with the pace ofchange, he still sees Gorbachev as the only alternative. Thefollowing passage illustrates a further function of memoir ——evaluation of one’s contemporaries. Here, Sakharov compares two ofthe biggest rivals in the Soviet Union: Gorbachev and Yeltsin.This aspect of political memoir is valuable to historians becauseit shows the conflict within the glasnost ranks over who is thebest leader of a reformed Soviet Union. According to Sakharov,I just can’t see an alternative to Gorbachev at this criticaljuncture. Even though his actions may have been prompted byhistorical circumstances, it has been Gorbachev’s initiativesthat have completely altered the country and the psychology ofits people in just four years.134Alternatively, Sakharov does not see a lot of hope in Yeltsin.Now, about Yeltsin. I respect him, but he is a person of adifferent calibre than Gorbachev. Yeltsin’s popularity is tosome extent dependent on Gorbachev’s ‘unpopularity, ‘ sinceYeltsin is regarded as the opposition to, and victim of, theexisting regime. This is the main explanation of hisphenomenal success (five or six million votes, 87 percent ofthe total) in the elections for deputy from the city ofMoscow. 135Sakharov’s memoirs, therefore, serve as a political tool thatpromotes a contemporary leader. They also reflect the pluralisticnature of glasnost attitudes.Similar to Sakharov, Shevardnadze was a prominent member of theSoviet establishment who later became one of its foremostopponents. He too uses memoir to vindicate himself of his pastrole and prove to the reader that he is devoted to change. In134Sakharov, Moscow and Beyond, 115.97response to allegations that he was a staunch Brezhnevite,Shevardnadze attempts to describe the atmosphere that he faced——one that required cooperation with the “suzerain” rather thanopposition. According to Shevardnadze,At the Twenty-seventh Party Congress I was asked how I couldreconcile my former praise of Brezhnev with my currentposition. I replied that the General Secretary not only didnot hinder our efforts (and of course could have done sobecause of their ‘heretical’ nature) but even supported them.There was no stagnation for me from that quarter. So am Isupposed to sacrifice fairness, decency, and good memory tothe attitudes of the day? How would I look to myself?’36Shevardnadze is not clear about why or even how he underwent achange in his beliefs. He tells the reader that he experienced agreat deal of internal conflict137 and his knowledge of “the truestate of affairs in [his] country”138 led him to conclude that thesystem was the root of all evil. Yet, he praises a renownedStalinist like Gromyko quite readily. “I had deeply respected mypredecessor, admiring his enormous experience, competence, anderudition.”139 Shevardnadze’s message of change is mixed since heuses his memoir to compliment a man who was one of the most devotedCommunists of his time. Despite the confusion over his personalbeliefs, Shevardnadze is more lucid in his discussion of the timewhen the state embarked on its new course. According toShevardnadze, the Soviet Union’s withdrawal from Afghanistan was136Shevardnadze, Eduard, The Future Belongs to Freedom, 34.137bid., 37.139bid., 43.98symbolic of its new attitude:I want to make the point that after the settlement wherebySoviet troops were withdrawn from Afghanistan, the civilizedworld began to trust us. That opened up great prospects forputting into practice the principles of the new thinking.Perhaps it was the experience of the Afghan epic that promptedus to think of the possibility of partnership and cooperationwith the West.140Unlike Sakharov, Shevardnadze doubts Gorbachev’s future as aleader of the new system. He questions his ability to ward off thepressure from the right—wing conservatives who oppose change.Nevertheless, Shevardnadze still admires Gorbachev and, as thefollowing passage shows, he accepts a degree of responsibility forthe difficulties that face Gorbachev. Memoir is used as anapologia for Gorbachev’s waning achievements. As Shevardnadzestates,back in the early days of perestroika, while acknowledging theexistence of an opposition, he wasn’t afraid to go against thegrain.. . Instead, the problem lay in the slow rate that changewas being pushed.. .Yet even here I refuse to take the role ofcritic of Gorbachev, because I bear equal responsibility. Myinternal disagreement with some of his decisions is of noaccount now if I didn’t openly oppose them at the time.141The section on subject matter demonstrated a distinctivedifference from pre—glasnost memoirs. Sakharov and Shevardnadzegive the reader a dismal portrayal of Soviet life while they drawa flattering image of a traditional enemy. Yet they go beyondattacking the old system to provide details of a new politicalapproach. What is more interesting, however, is that the political140bid., 47.141bid., xviii.99functions of Soviet memoir remain constant. This situationindicates how memoir is used as a tool by different forces inSoviet society to promote their specific attitudes to the reader.Due to the reasons mentioned above, Sakharov’s and Shevardnadze’smemoirs reflect the views of a new, “emergent” force in Sovietsociety.A brief discussion on style will also show how Sakharov’s andShevardnadze’s memoirs ignored Socialist Realist techniques. Thefirst area to look to for this change is diction. Both authorshave a language style that is free from any heavy, political Sovietinfluences. Their language is actually similar to that found inWestern works. Moreover, the tone that both authors emit is farmore personal and self—critical than that found in Brezhnev’s andGromyko’s memoirs. A good example of Sakharov’s non—politicizedlanguage and intimate tone is found in his description of hisrelationship with Elena Bonner, whom he affectionately calls“Lusia”: “Truly, she is the only person who shares my innerthoughts and feelings. Lusia prompts me to understand much that Iwould otherwise miss because of my restrained personality. . .We aretogether. This gives life meaning.”T62 Shevardnadze alsodemonstrates an intimate tone and a language free from SocialistRealist constraints when he gives a colourful description ofWashington: “The exuberant green of Arlington Hill and the brightwhite columns of the memorials soothed the eye, calming the soul142Sakharov, Moscow and Beyond, 160.100with a landscape of peace.”143 Shevardnadze’s description, inparticular, shows how the departure from Socialist Realisttechniques makes a positive portrayal of America possible. Inaddition, the message of the glasnost forces, who support truth andself—criticism, is enhanced by a non-politicized language.The way that the memoirists treat their audience also reflectsthe attitudes of the emergent forces. Sakharov and Shevardnadzehave two intended audiences: Western and Soviet. This probably isdue to the new political situation under glasnost which allows forpolitically critical literature to be published in the SovietUnion. Moreover, the communication of similar interpretations toboth audiences is more beneficial for glasnost supporters sincetheir principle beliefs are self-criticism and rapprochement withthe West. Sakharov shows that he directs the same message to theWest and the Soviet Union in the following example:I have since argued. . . that the West should encourage theprocess of perestroika, cooperating with the USSR ondisarmament and on economic, scientific, and cultural issues.But support should be given with ‘eyes wide open,’ notunconditionally. The opponents of perestroika shouldunderstand that their triumph, and a retreat from reform,would mean the immediate termination of Westernassistance. 144Shevardnadze also seems to speak to both audiences as is evident inthe following statement: “Dialogue requires impartiality and lackof prejudice regardless of the partner. Even if I feel uneasy withmy counterpart, I suppress my dislike. I know all too well that to143Shevardnadze, The Future Belongs to Freedom, 79.144Sakharov, Moscow and Beyond, 13.HC))(f)iQori-U)0C)U)ClU)C))‘1CD0C))tCDIIC))HH-rI---<0i-çtC)(-I-C)CDC)HCDU)HCDdC))C))CT)CDCDHCD<CDHHrii-Cl-N‘dU)H-0’U’I’C!)C!)Cl)HCDCDU)C))I-ClClIIC))H-0Z0CDC))CD(JIC)CD0CDCt)00CD0ClHC))00C))CDCl-(I)Cl<rtClC))<HCD•ClCDCDCl)C)b0HC))CD‘1‘-‘-QH-Cl)dl-1lCDctC))C))<C))HH•CDjCDIClCDU)Clci-C))Cl0ClCl0CDNC)H--H-Cl0ci-ClClHC))CDNiNH,CDCDCDHClCl)CDCDCD0U)i-C)‘-H-HClCT)H-0H-CDU)-00Ti)C))CD-U)U)PC)CDci-C)•ClHH-CD.H-U)H-HCDCl)CDCDH-Q0ClCDCl)CDClHClU)U)H-CDClCDHTiHH-CDU)hCDTi)CDCDCDci-Cli-i-c-i--HCD0CDCDCl-Cl-ci-ClCDIIClC))CDCD0Ti)C)Ti•TiCl)CDCDCD<Cl-CDI-’.Ti)0ClQCDCDH-ci-•U)U)CDCD0HI:riCDC)dCl)CDU)CDU)0çtU)C)CDHHCD-Cl-ClU)xU)0H-H-CDU)00CDci-CD(i-C))C)Z0ClCD(I)C)CDCDClCDH-ci-ci-Cl)U)CDCl-QH-P’ClICD0•HHH0CDXHCl-Cl-H-HH)CDH-0.<CDCD0Cl)H-CDHU)c-I-o0t-CDC!)HdCDCT)ClH-U)CDH-H0U)-Ct)0H-H-CDClH-H-‘<C))U)CD‘1‘-ICDCDi—i-(I)HU)HC)C))ClH-ClCDCDCDCD0<H1HCD iCDNCDC))(C)H-H-H-ClClCD0T-i-U)C)‘U)ClCDC)CDH-ClFo0H)0U)Cl-CDCDci-0CDCDC)ClH-CDU)H-ClClTi-U)C)C))ClClçCDU)X0C)C)wCDCD!Cl•CDH-U)ClU)CD0CD0H-U)ClHU)H-IH-CDU)H‘-QHCDH-H-•U)H-CDH-c-I-H)3IIClCDU)(iCDCD C))I-<I-C))Ci-N<0c-I-CDTiCDH-H-00Ti0I-‘10CDQCDCDCDCl0000H-C))CDIICl)C))<Ct-H0C))CDIII—’C))U)tnLi.CDH-C))ClH-•0C)-U)HC))CDC)-’ici-HClCl)NClH-H-C))-1Cl-0<‘-<CDoClCD0Cl)Ti)ZIIC)-’H-ClU)Cl•0ICDH102Glasnost’s demand for truth has risen in their wake.A final area that should be addressed is how Sakharov’s andShevardnadze’s memoirs were received by Western academics. Thiswill help determine how much they differ from Brezhnev’s andGromyko’s memoirs. Unfortunately, Sakharov’s and Shevardnadze’smemoirs were published too recently for any substantial examinationof them in scholarly works. As a consequence, reviews of thememoirs are the only available information on their reception inthe West. In general, both memoirs were welcomed positively bycritics. Sakharov’s work was praised as being “beautifullywritten” and as “testimony to his personal courage and his powerfulhumanitarian appeal for individual honesty, fundamental rights andsocial justice.”149 Unlike Brezhnev’s that were attacked asmonumentally insignificant due to their lack of truth, Sakharov’sreceived evaluations such as the following: “vivid details breakthrough that draw us back to the wonderful honesty of thenarrator.”150 Shevardnadze’s memoirs also received a warmreception. Reviewers compared his work to his profile as Sovietforeign minister. As one critic described Shevardnadze’s memoirs:“It symbolised the new Soviet approach to the world. . .A human faceand a constant questioning of the past have served Mr. Shevardnadze149C&therine Porter, “To the Yaroslav station” rev, of TheFuture Belongs to Freedom. by Eduard Shevardnadze, New Statesman &Society, v.3, 24 August 1990, 34.150Jaines H. Billington, “Speaking the Truth”, Rev, of Memoirsby Andrei Sakharov, New York Review of Books, v.95, June 17,1990,19.U,I-j (D I:i 0 0 0 H- U) ft 0 0 ft 0HCfl“0H0(DH<H--)(flliftD:CD1-IiN(DOCD,ft NO(DIi xj-CD<CDI(D H)fJQ)0rl-z oCDO(fltiU)CD(DOft•CDp)ii‘.,jtxjO1tir-JCDP)H1liL-ri p.) Ii Cl):CD 1p)Np(Dc) CDCDtiCD0<0•00H tj)l.-ft CDpJCt CDC’) CDdCDftH(DOCDU)Iift0CD0 •-<Cl)0IP.)H-ftC’)ftP1U)0li0b0U)0HIrt0(1CDCDU)0CDHCDtiftCD<ftliCD0CDXH,H-C)I—”IiI-’‘-a-U)P1CDP1U)<ftC)U)Z<CDH-ftHCDU)CDQ’CDHH-H-L.QftCDt-iU)ClC)‘.QH-0Cl0CDIH-HH‘)U)H,U)QCl-CDHCDCl-NCDZr1H-H-P1H-HC!)U)CDC).0HP1NooCL H-<‘1H-IiCDH-LQ00ftU)-0ClU)H-CDP1<ftCD‘10ftft-P1CLP’P1liftHHftH-CDU)U)0CDCDftH,iiftCD0njU)CDCDHU)H-H-ftU)0))-lH-P.)H-iH0CltSCDU)Ii0HCLCDCDCDH‘diCDftbH,oCDftClftocftCDCD0H-<liftCDftCDoCDHpjH-ftCDH-H<iiH0<HftU)C’)CLP1ooCDHCLoHjIiCD0H-ftCDCDC)CDH-HQ0H-H-ClftP1LCD0CLCD-ClftCDHP1P1P1CDzft0 li•.CDCDHNliWOU)ftliCDftlili-H--ft0HH-CDP1<-<j.U)CDU)P1‘°ft=IiCDCDU)H-ftQL-ftCDH-000iiH,CL<CDHP10CDftCDCDCDH-U)H-CDNCLIiftpClHCDIibCDoCDprtCDiftCDCD<HH0IiCDH-NH-H<0tCDH,CDHCDCDliP1H,CDHH-0U)H,Clp<ftCDiH-U)H•.Ii(1ftftH:3_CD0CDCD00H,P10H,Clp)Cl)iU)0<QoP1HP.))H,0CDliH-CD‘U)CDH-IiH,Cl0I-I’H-H,U)oftP1ft‘<CiH-H0CDHHCDCDftftIiP.)H()H,H0oCD<C)ftCDCl)•CDP.)ft<.!.‘dP1CDgClHH-NCDiili0ftH-U)C)H-ftHH-H-CD0<ftU)U)CDCDiiU)<oCDftH-IiP1ftH-ftIib‘SH-ft‘<H-H,P10ftCD0H-ftH,HftP10CD0)0fttiCDP1H00)H-00CDH‘<IiH0ClU)0)Clc,ftk<ClCDU)0W104Soviet Union that supports good relations with the West in order tohelp save its nation from economic disaster.Sakharov’s and Shevardnadze’s memoirs also escaped the influenceof Socialist Realism. Their views were not locked in a politicalvacuum like those of Brezhnev and Gromyko. Specifically, their useof language was free from political rhetoric while the intimacy andcandour with which they presented their views emphasized theinfluence of glasnost in their writing. The great praise that theyreceived from Western critics is testimony of the new politicalcharacter. Once again, the interrelation of politics and literaturereflects a different political current in Soviet society. Thus,Sakharov’s and Shevardnadze’s memoirs are important for what theytell the historian about the new political atmosphere in the SovietUnion.105CONCLUSIONSoviet political memoir has demonstrated its potency in thearenas of both politics and history. While it performs the samepolitical functions as its Western counterpart, it also tells thereader a great deal about a different society. First, thememoirists attempted to vindicate themselves, the Party, andsometimes both, from a shady past. All of the authors providedexcuses for their involvement in the Stalinist system. They gavewarnings to the reader in order to teach him lessons of the past inpreparation for the future. Those of the Stalinist group persuadedthe reader to uphold the values of the Stalinist past, whereas themessage of the other authors was to reject these attitudes in viewof their nation’s history of suffering. The evaluation of theircontemporaries was another function performed by these Sovietexamples; Stalin figured prominently in Brezhnev’s and Gromyko’smemoirs while he was portrayed as a villain in the other texts.Lastly, the aspect of apologia was a powerful stimulus in theproduction of all the memoirs in this paper. Since the authorsshare a responsibility in their state’s development, they mustexplain the nature of the Soviet system and why they contributed toits growth. Soviet political memoir fulfilled the same tasks asthe Western. Thus, the impetus of these functions reinforces theubiquitous nature of political memoir.Soviet political memoir also tells the reader of a heterogeneousSoviet society. It reflects three fundamental strands of thoughtthat prevailed after Stalin’s death: Stalinism, anti-Stalinism,0oCDI—iftH)ftCDftHIft()H-)(DH)x ItoiiftEniCDDlCDH--Ct H-Q r1Dl HCD0r10Q.oH-H4QEnEn<CD0HH•C) CD1H 0H-‘-EnCDHQ.C)CDpi<ftCDCDH1QCDooItii:ftftft0HEnt-Li.H-CD1CD0EnItItC)CD‘-ILQC)CDH-I-Qft0H-H1ftdI-D’H-H-DlCDEn0ZftiLQCDCDDlDlH)DlQI-CD,0DliDlDlftCDHEnE‘•lCDHCD•En CDDlEn0ftI-CDH)H-It<EnDlCDH-C)EnEnHCDH-<CDCDEn<ftEnft-CDEnItCD-DlXH-ftfti-EnDlCDHD’CDHCl)En0ftH-DlCDft‘1ftCDCDEnCDEnCDDlftItH<EnH•HCDH-01iCD C)EnEnftCD::TH-ftDlCD<H-CDCDQ.II•1Q.ftCI)0Dl0H-10ltEnDlC)0H-ftH-LQoEnP.-<ft01H-H::-iiH-ftH-0CDCDC)H-En-H-Dl0ftEn‘1HItDlEnHEnoCD DlEnCDCl)‘1CDHH-ItC)HQCDCD0H-HEnH-0o‘1En.EnH-00EnftH)H)H)H)CDHCDftCDftH-JEnCDCDCDCDo0ZIt‘-2DlDlCDCD 0ftH-H-0LQi.<HH)H-LQftHCDEnLi-CDC)HDiC)IrjI.<CDftHhH-CD0DlO•Dl<HCDDlCDHEn1HDlftItCD1En‘<CDItCDDl H-Dl‘-1EnQPCDDlH-NHH)ftCDCDH)MZO-Cl)Enft DlDlCDDlHDlEn0HQEn-H)H-Cl)0k<QftDlCDDl0I-oHHH-‘-<EnoiI.QH-0H-H-En-C)C)ftEnx;DlDl—IH-H-CDEnoItftjI-DlCDCDQ:ftft DlCDH-Dln’ft‘1C)H-H-CDH0QItCDftHCDD) ft)H-CD0CDftHH-0HCD‘1H)ftftEnCDoCl)H)It:oDlDlCDC)EnC)DlEnft1H-ftftftftCDDlçEnH-H-HpEnC)H-I<.CD0EnDlHftEn<H-It0-HH)DlH-EnftH-H)EnEnH)CD‘1riftCDEnCDH-C)NCDDlEnCDiiftHft<CDCDIt-I-HCl)H- ftftDlCDEnHDl0EnDl1DlcQH)Dl H Dl En 0 Cl) ft ri C) 0 H) ft CD En CD Dl ft ft H- ft CD EnCl)CDDl H0H-HH-CDEn ft-0 CDEn HCI)H-oftDlHHCDC-.CDaCl)CD:-ftCDoDiEn1 Dl N CD Enft CD C) H CD En Dl H ft CD 1_i It ‘1 CD ft Dl ft H-0 EnDlQ. H1En ftDlLQHHDlDlC)HEnftEn0ItH-EnCDEnftt- H 0 U) CD x Dl H CD H ft H- En It Dl It CDCD z 0 ft 0 H H LQ z 0 CD Cl) 0 C) H Dl H H- En ft CD Dl H H- En ft It ‘1 H C) H-It H CDH3 H- En H 0 H CD ft CDHDl C)CDDlDl‘1Q00CDH-Eni.-HEnC) EnbCD<<H H-En ft107illustrated how changes in the Soviet Union’s political culturecould be studied through Soviet political memoir. FollowingStalin’s death, the number of memoirs that were publishedincreased. Soviet political memoir went from being scoffed at asa bourgeois preserve to being manipulated as a political tool byopposing forces, to finally meeting the standards of their Westerncounterparts. In essence, each group distinguished itself throughits own brand of content and form. These examples, therefore,represent the different values that prevailed in post—Stalinistsociety.It seems that Soviet political memoir will be of increasingimportance to political analysts and historians in light of therecent profusion of highly sensitive information coming out of theformer Soviet Union. These memoirs sketch a complex picture. Theytell us that the transition to a new, democratic state is not asimple process since so many groups disagree on the approach. Theyalso give us a different perspective of Soviet society. The imageof a monolithic machine is shattered by the virtual explosion ofpersonal testimonials triggered by glasnost. What is important torecognize is that all the memoirs analyzed here are important inand of themselves. They tell us to acknowledge the power ofpolitics in literature; the interpretation of the past ispredicated on this idea. However problematic it is to acceptSoviet political memoirs as sources of facts, one must overstepone’s prejudices and realize that they provide a wealth ofknowledge about Soviet politics and history. The task of the108historian particularly is to understand the political circumstancesthat lay behind the memoir and perceive it as a political creation.Soviet political memoir is a relatively new historical source.Perhaps the enthusiasm generated by glasnost will attract a fewmore converts.H000003’1CD‘1HI0HOCD•0<QCtUCtjC)NoCDI •ICt<<<CDOJ<<“CC)C)<(DCt-1<CDCDCDCD0CD.-CtCD’<C-EnCD0XC)E•in1z.z‘tiF’En.Efl•CCDIctCI)C)Z0‘bçt’CDOF’-HCD.C)HIC•En‘<<CDF’-CDHF’IsCD..FHF’HF’-(tF’Q,•‘.F’IF’- QCtCICDPC)<En(D<UFlI)CtF’.NDiS•CDI0EnD)F’-0lCD*cnCDOIrtçt‘<‘HFlIF’ En—.EnEntCDCDCD‘CDCDF’-CD<Cti-ic.0HCDD‘•1iDiH0Ct01<°0‘ØXnF’-C)1<F’-CtCtI-Q’I’0•HEnEflP.I•DiF’-Co•1F’-10..DiQ,0DiDiF’CtCtCEn-CDCt..hDiNDiDi1D.lEnIo0‘CDQCDinC0-oHHHEnI•.H<10HEnCtF’-DiCDCDF’-Ct<io-WCDn0n.CDH..H..EnCtODCDDi‘F’-CDEn0<00C)I-Q).DrtH1Ii-HtnCDCDF’-Di•frCt0rJ<.CDCtcocDiIDiICIQIcnCDE.oHI-SD)-.0Z<0F’•‘.QEfllEnCDDi::)-0.H0niHEnEnCDCDCD•IIDi><0En0tHHitt!)F’-ID)0Q0.EnaCl-()DiDi..1Ct HEn_-En0iH“CD EnCtCDHEn’_<(1)<:aF’-CDL1DiHH<C!)Ct<‘-rtIDi0HDi‘..DCD’0C.•.rF’-DiH0.ICD0HDiCEnCD0H’EnD)I0EnDiCtEn0°iF’001EnCDCDEnCDH-CDC0CDC)EnCtCt1DiC)HEnH0Ct1<F’-EnCtDiC)DiF’-Di1En000CDCDEn-HC)DiCttTpCtU)En1<En0DiCCDCt<0HCDCt0C)CCDH<<t-0H-Di<H•‘-<ZCtEnCDDi1(DDiDi<En•F’-CD0——Ct•.—•iCt•••““Di——•LJ1-3Cl)Cr1Cl)1:-IIICDHH0tiCHCDHHIZ0CD0Cl)t3CtCD°n:p•I) IHFl0øH’d0iwHct)I-1<-ODI1‘.D-lC)aCDLII-,.Q0CDU)Hcnti-X---CDUiI—.iCD-H-CDHIiHH]CDH.CDlCDCDH-HiHH•CD.H-CD0C)‘0H-HC)CDrtOHOH-.C)-4NIMUi.•zIHH•CDXCDC)CDDlCDrtQQHCDU)0CC)HDlIc-tU)•L- •LI-0ctCt)CDDl00•HI1(1)0CDIU)lCDI?C1).-’ctCDCDCt(DLlCDIIIcoHID)IHIIp’IC)flU)IF-U)!;-Cl)oIH.IlCDC/)U)D)1<HCDCD0I1CID)CC)CltI•ctH-CD‘10U)IZ•D)hCDH.CnDlCDCD•(flCDHCtCDZ.oCDCtCflH-CDCDrtU)C)CD’‘•<OH-OCtt1QCD•i-tF-rjCDCDt-<1-00U).1.CDCDCD0CDCt••, H•DlCDC;-)tCDDlz)flrtC)‘dCl)CDrtCDCDCDC)CD0HHCD0CDL.QCDCDCtU)DlCt-rtCDlrtCDH-DlDlCDHC!)CDD)CDF-MCi)CDCDCtfrH-DlIIlCDCt0Ct‘100H-U)000DlOIHCDU)U)CDHU)CDHCD0C)C)CtDl0.’H-U)CD•IP)H-‘<0000()00()()0c)0H-CDCDCD‘i‘10oooH)I-I-HqZ00NiZHHCfl’0‘<‘a0H.H-HHCD-ci-QCDI-CDH)OJ)•Oci-00(rni-HIHWH-0-lU)HClCDCDH-,CD-ZZCDoICD<rtZLCHC”.-j(c°IZCDCDCDoCDCDci-i<U)H-H-OCD-U)1H-.10CD-I-i—’Cl::r.CDU)U)ClCI”Zr-U)U)IZZI-.ZU)HP)ri-ZCirt03Z0DF-”•rtU)CDc.1oZU)aZCDC)U)00U)1xj1<-,U)qZf--Q.,Z•HCDU)C4•.H.‘-<I..-1Z<0HU)CD°Ht1U)HCDCDCDCDCDClU)O,jZ1Cl0I1H-‘<Cl.LHH-0-CDZ0CDHU)t’jZCI)HOH0,—i--U).0<CD0ZZU)H-CtH-HCD‘t-Ot50ClU)ClH-HIOr-CDHri-U)‘-0HNZiXHZO0°Zlo<HCDOr-U)Z0 U)ClZCD“CDZH-ZZ0CD1H,Or-OH-.U)II0Clci-U)H<H-ICDHCD<H-r0U-’CtU)CDCDHH-CDU)U)rZCDHZ(fl00ONU)(tOClo-“1rnlH-iONI-H-CDcsU).CDCDO0HHe-f-OfrH-U)H-OCD0CDH1ci-CDrHH<0CDU)c-i-CDCl1HH-0CDH-ct‘<Ct-H-•CDClHci-CDi-H-U)Cln.ZZOH-HU)CDi-HHci-Z‘H<ZO‘-°ct<.U)C•U)CDH-Ici---CDCDH-<rtCD<0CD‘<U)CDCD00CDfl-t!iHHH-C))0HCDHU)ZU)‘.oci‘<U)-CDI-U)a0--CDClU)-0H-(DU)i-(3jH0.1<.0CDCDH‘1c-tIHU)CD“0h(U)‘-<10U)‘.0O0<-IO’.H1<ZocnU)IU)OIH-OC)H-o•U)00CDHICDiiH-U)CDHoU)U)-i-Oci-CD1‘.0IU)H..CDoCD0jH-U)H•0CDCDU)00•CDHçD0QU)HU)HCl•iH0•Zci-0I-,,HU)CDCD0‘.00ZctH-01<—lU)0H-Z‘1CtIZlU)H-H-ci-.CDU)0U)0Ht-OZ0IiHCD‘.0CDC))U)H-CDU)H-U)H-00•U)c-i-lU)Zr-‘.0H00‘1U)H-U)Oci-‘<Z0CDH—CDi—t,••H.CDHI:-’1:-IC)0000000HCD00htCnHtHHfrbZZCD2H)H0(D‘-<--z_0çt-<H<lCD0Ct‘CDHQCDCtE‘DCDPCDICDH-0“IOU1IoI10Q’CD0cjI_HH-<frqH-1U10-10ctCtI0H,LCDQOCD<Ct•‘ioCDCDxjCDJH.H(flf-CDHC))-ZH•HCDctfl(C)(C)HCD•‘.00)C)(C)HtCD•HCDHCDIH0C))(C)H-HHHH-.CDHCD•(C)CDZIo)l°Z(C)c•H(fl‘0CD<xCDI<H-C)CDCDW‘<CD(C)CD,CDCDWCD0HLQHft(C)(C)CDctQCD(C)CDH-HC))H-C1Q<-H(C)(C)0CDtCtCD0Q(C)HH<HCD1H.W(C)C).’00CD••HQQic-i--<‘ftC)••t5HH-(OWQHCD•H-H0HftH-H‘0<-<<-HOCDWH-HHCDQ(flHCDCDCDrt(C)H-ft1H(vH-OWH-()-C))0-)HH.•.CIC))WZ0Z•‘D(C)Z1CDH-HWCDHH-CD,CD00CD‘.0C)).C))WHH‘<0(C)DHHçtC))jH-‘<ftH,_jDC)HH0HH-CDCD‘DH-—JUlCD,()•.‘.-H-.J(I)(fift.IHNCD‘.0”ZJH-is‘-000HZHCD<H-HWbCDctQH-HCDHH-Z‘°C)CDft—1CDH(I)-.H.W0CD(D-‘1<.(C)(C)(C)HCDHH-IIqCDCDH-ft•CDHCD•HZ‘0CDCXHHH-C))‘.Q-C).’ftWH-4H-H-CDCDCDCDHZ<HCD••0‘.DCtHHft00CD..H0•0‘.0ftft‘1ri00HQO0OCD‘1HC))<HHCDoo0CD0H0H1(DCt)0ft0‘(flHftHrtQ)H-CD-CDC).’“CDH-I-•C)HC)CDWC)’HctH-•C)H-(C)H•HOHC)ftDH-ftH,CDCDH-CDooOt)4Q<H-ICC)—-IH—JH-0CD00CC)•C)0CD0)(flCDiiH••U)-CD•-PCDct(1)Cl)Cl)Cl)Cl)rtH0H-IIH-0H-CDCDCDCD0U)CDH<1:1)HtTIgr1-I1CDCDCDOCDHCDCDG)•1LQ-“r<-I--CD0HO(flH-O)U)H)CDHr-1H-0H-C)j0)H-z.i-iI-i---C)H)CD1k<O)H.<H-<CDU)0)0-0•ioa-ZH<H•<CD0CDHCDCDCl)HjHDCI)..110)CDI-H-U)CD0)coOQOCD<:1.0HU)QHQ•(I)(OH-P‘-<H-CDHtlO)CDOCDCDCDU)U)tU)••0H-0)ICDL-1C•D)Iii1ctZH-r1-Q<U)H-HH-HCD<“I<CD•o(J)rI-0)‘-<U)lU)OCDt-’-iCDHjtr‘-<HD-1H-CD•.0CDxior1-.,.•CD0If--°1-1CDCDH0)HU)CDU)0lCDH0)1U)•••<CD0•.1<U)00HZ01H-H-U)H-I-CDCDHHH-CD1CDH-C!)-00,CDHrtH<0)OCD0U),4.Ci)DHØCD-Cl)iCDQxH-0rt0CDH(0(0tQH.CDHICr1-CH0)CDOH0CDCD0)CDQ.ZIH-H)H<(0“HH)HH-t50)Cl-Q00)CDoCE!)O0Z(0rl-CDH1-CD(O‘-<H00oCD<H-O(J1IrtCD0)-çtH-tk<CDH---..0-CDCl‘CH-j•H-C)H•zH-HHO)U)ZU)l0)0)‘oCDCDCDH-0)COd-.<H.HxJU)H-0)0HHrt(DHCD‘-°C)I‘-<000)0cHIRiIII0HC(tOCHdI_QC)H-oo0)H-oCD HCDCD“0C)H0ClClO)••‘1CD0HHH-HCi)CDCD0C)HCl)HCD‘ICOH-rtOO)C)Cfl’-rj0CD••-0HO)(00H0H-C)•CD0)H0)00H-HHHI-<QCflrt-ZH-CDXCl)‘.0CD0H-CD•H)HHC)IIH-C)ZH-IOCDH-0)00CDH•Cl)OCDH-•Cl)CDIFHH)••-CD0)•ClE!)rt‘-<•CflClCl)WI)cn‘1H-PJ)II0C)oooIk0’<Ci)-CD-0IuiNCDqrT8r1<CDci9t-CD-iF-a-0WH-•H-IH-•H-t-1°-cn°•(I)ct0Y(DCD0 CD()<••‘1(DH-I(DoCi)Ci)NacrpCtCDCi)z-j-HCDrtEOctH-CtCDH°QOCD-CD.CD(DCDCDCDH-0ctP—9LQCD0a<oCD:CDi•‘CD•C)CDOIZHCi)ctCDCt-It:i.-HCD2°°°-Ci)C)C)i—-t-’rtC)rj•ct0CD’<CDCDCtH.0CDHOHoHCDOctH-CtHCi)--t-OO(-t-CDCDOH-OIHH-H-CDCDtiC)OCDH-0CD-JiiP)P)H<Q--•HW()CD••CtH-H-<CtHCD“HH-CD-t-CtOr-t-CDIoH-CDIDU1O<0CD•CDH-1i°C)HOo-IiiH-0CD0CtCDCDMCDcnzct-iCDCDCDCDE<HH-C)H-I-iCi)CtOct1CD-0H-HZIIHCi)C)r-t-HHHQCDCDctCttCt••H--.J.QCCi)..cCt--CDCDC).H-Cl)1<H<bCt-Ct-000CDCDOrt‘1Cy<H-0WnH-CD0•CDCDCDCDCDH-[flCDH-H--CDH-CDCtCtCDHZCtHCDH.HP-’CD•.H-CDCDO0‘-<J•CDC4$)H-co(-toH- C)1<(D—0-H.HOCD“H-CtCD0HCDCCDOH1OCi)-c)Ct-CDCDrJ)ci)OHL)‘..O<HH-Hrt-HCtHOHHCtCflH-0Q)•-ZOH-Q-CDCDCt0(l)OHCD’HHH--0t11Cl)H-IICD‘-<ZCl)CiOcoH-H-OWCi)jp)HCDH-C)CDHCta0HrDt-CDCDCflCi.CiCD•-jMOH-•••-QCD-H•t-1ftCt<CD11Tj0CD00HcCJ°<HtICHOWCDhj0ijCD0rjHJ(D-1-ICDH0CDHH-H1w<IC-<CD-0.0HU)NOH-IH1CDCDC))C)H.DO1H0C))IIH-H-H-IC).’0IXU)CD000lCDH-CDCD.CDI-lCDC)JIHH1•10CDwIOICDW-CCD0ICDCD010WIHK)C))U)0IZIH,LQ1<Cl-LQIH-C))H--H-HfrH-HICDlCDlzCDCD•CD0CDCDCl-CD•CDo.‘qU)M(DCDcn’1CDC)CDw•(DCD.H-e)1Q.H-‘-<QICDSCDU)CDCD-a1oLo.Iu0HoU)CD0w-H-Z0-.H•CDH-H-CDH-HC)CD--•Ic-1ctC)•H0-=C))(D-i-3IICDH1<C))H-C)ctCDhU)dl-CDCD-H-Cl)(flHH0ctWH-dl-C))H0HC))H0U)0H-CD’1ICDLQIC)frqHH--U)H0H’<CDC)iU)00CDCl-U)-c-t-H-j<0.OC)t0CDC)00<-H-U)•CDQ-0-CDrtC)0U)HjFl-0Cl-HCDOH-U)gH:-iQ..jCf)cL.Q1’iH-U))HC)0‘10‘-C).’U)CD-H-Q.,CDU)“°LQ-CD-Cl-00CDHCDC))jCDC))C1)0U)CDH1z-0CDrtH-HCD•‘.DH-CDUiCC))0XCD1<OU)-C<-U)C)-tCD0HC)c-tHCl-.CD-U)HH4sI.1::0-H--•CD—.‘CD0PJCl-jCD.0-CDCDCD(D•iH-CDIcnHCDNCl-HC).’CDCD—JH:)iF1‘.<C))-H-0oHL0ioH-CDCDHICDU)C))C)’0rliU)CDWIH-•0C)‘.DHHHI’I-Icr•UiCl)-r1Flrli’HCDU)P.’oCD1CD—G’11CD‘-i-<HCl-HIIiWH1U)CD-ICD-UiH-HIIC)H-CDwCDW1H-1H-1H-lC)HCD.I<1<rl-CDCDC))(C)H-FlFl•HFlH-1C))CDFl-FlC)l-I-HCD•-PiEiCDU)0CD‘<-ICD••Ui(I)U)U)0)HflxjZc’)0HU)I-qq0HHCD-00u1I0?)1CDIHE-CDH‘D-M‘1tbICDCDrtLHrtctHrtCD-(D00OCT)M-Zcta-0HH_rt H-otjC)<H-pCDiH)CDH-Q)çt:-;-C)j0ctZH-1CDCDH-H-H00tiClCDzU)tTHH-Ct)CD(DH-HCDHH-U)rtCDI1I1<0?C)lCD0t:-<-H0CDIH-IIH---C))Hç-j-rt-ClHCt-0H•.CD-t-0)ZC))CtHCDH><C)iHOctIC))HHC)IHH(t‘-<C)CD0IH-U)-CDIC))-H-CDU)U)H-Ct0C))CDCDH-0qHCDCDIU)H-HH-U)C)CDHC))CDr1CDC)) ii-jg)H-ClCl-U)0lCD loH)H00c-I-0ctH-H-H-HOC))ZU)ctctc-I-CDICCDH-tI0CD-CDtIU)OfrCDU)HHE\i0)H-U)H-C))CD0H—0)CflflC))-HH--ri•CDO

Cite

Citation Scheme:

        

Citations by CSL (citeproc-js)

Usage Statistics

Share

Embed

Customize your widget with the following options, then copy and paste the code below into the HTML of your page to embed this item in your website.
                        
                            <div id="ubcOpenCollectionsWidgetDisplay">
                            <script id="ubcOpenCollectionsWidget"
                            src="{[{embed.src}]}"
                            data-item="{[{embed.item}]}"
                            data-collection="{[{embed.collection}]}"
                            data-metadata="{[{embed.showMetadata}]}"
                            data-width="{[{embed.width}]}"
                            async >
                            </script>
                            </div>
                        
                    
IIIF logo Our image viewer uses the IIIF 2.0 standard. To load this item in other compatible viewers, use this url:
http://iiif.library.ubc.ca/presentation/dsp.831.1-0086712/manifest

Comment

Related Items