Forgetting History's Lessons
Russians combat public apathy to Soviet-era horrors

Paulina Myasnikova Photo courtesy PBS

July 16, 2001 — George Santayana’s contention that those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it doesn't carry much weight in today's Russia. As Michele Kelemen reports in her four-part Morning Edition series, a few Russians are trying to help the country come to terms with the horrors of its Soviet past. But to do so, they must overcome apathy, denial, political self-interest, and a populace that's more concerned with making it through another day than with the lessons of history.

As human-rights activist Andrei Roginsky puts it: "When people have empty stomachs or can't find work, they feel the government has abandoned them. There is a strong sense of social injustice. And it turns out that social injustice is much sharper than political injustice."

Given the harsh economic realities many Russians face today, it is perhaps understandable that the sins of the Soviet past aren’t uppermost in their minds. Those same economic realities represent the very reason Russians should fear a repeat of the past - hard times often give rise to despots. All hope is not lost, however. There are people and organizations working to counter the national mood and document what happened so that it will never be forgotten.

Part One (July 16) — Santayana also called history a "pack of lies" told by "people who weren’t there." But Paulina Myasnikova, 91, was there. As she tells a group of schoolchildren gathered at the Andre Sakharov Museum, as a teenager she was sent to one of the worst labor camps of the Russian Gulag in Kolyma. Though her tale is harrowing, the children seem bored by it. Such reactions alarm Alexander Yakovlev, the man once known as "the Father of Glasnost." His own grandson's friends, he says, find it hard to believe that tens of millions of people were imprisoned or killed during the Soviet period. Yakovlev is determined to formally document what happened so that future generations will be convinced of how bad things were. The former top aide to Mikhail Gorbachev now heads a special commission studying Soviet-era crimes. However much he learns, he continues to come across things that shock him, such as the game some of Stalin's secret police played: a race to see who could write the letter "R" (for rasstrelyat or "execute") on the most files. Each "R" meant somebody would be killed.

Part Two (July 17) — In the winter of 1976, in a prison camp in the industrial region of Perm, temperatures often reached 50 degrees below zero. It wasn't much warmer in the barracks. As one prisoner recalls, "there were cracks between the wooden beams so big you could see who was walking by." Such complaints anger former prison official Vladimir Kurguzov. So he built a small museum near the site of the prison to counter what he considers bad publicity. Prison officials, he insists, always treated their captives well. Nearby stands Perm 36, the only Soviet-era labor camp that the public is allowed to visit. It starkly depicts what life in the camp was like, but some teenagers seem impervious to the lessons. "Mistakes were made," says one. Russian schools are generally ill-equipped to help them understand the history: Textbooks may as well have come from the Krushchev era, notes Sergei Kovalyov, a former political prisoner who is now a lawmaker. According to the books in today's high schools, he says, "Lenin was good…Stalin was bad and the 1937-38 purges were unfair."

Part Three (July 18) — After the collapse of Communist rule, several countries in Eastern Europe decided to open the archives of their secret police forces. But in Russia, access to files has been restricted. Only a few Russian citizens have seen their old KGB files.

Vladimir Voinovich self-portrait

Satirical writer Vladimir Voinovich was forced into exile because of his hilarious send-ups of Soviet bureaucrats. After his citizenship was restored, he returned to find that the KGB wouldn't open his files. He was told his documents were burned. So he never learned what he wanted to — like whether KGB agents poisoned him, as he suspects.

Voinovich believes Moscow should have followed other former Soviet-bloc nations in passing laws to make public the names of secret-police officers and to bar former party bosses from government positions. But many say Russia has other priorities: "…I'm much more concerned about bridges starting to collapse than how people relate to this or that KGB officer," says former political prisoner Mikhail Kazachkov.

Memorial is one of a few groups fighting to open Russia's archives. The organization's director, Andrei Roginsky, sees every new book published and every new case that comes to light as a major victory. But, he laments, most Russians are happy to leave the work to the historians.

Part Four (July 19) — From August 1937 to October 1938, more than 20,000 people were executed at the Butovo Testing Range. Now, it's an apple orchard, and there is no official marker there to indicate what happened. In the early '90s, former KGB officers finally acknowledged that it was a gravesite, but no memorial was established. Instead, the land was handed over to the Russian Orthodox Church.

Don't look for the church to commemorate the site. In part because of its own ambiguous history, the church is reluctant to dwell much on Soviet atrocities. Although many priests and nuns were killed in the purges, many others collaborated. Father Maxim, of the church's Canonization Commission, exemplifies the church's attitude: "Imagine 50 years from now," he says. "Who is going to remember what communism was or who Lenin was? …Do we really care now who killed St. George? The main thing is, the man died for Christ." Many within the church are working to change that attitude. Father Kiril built a small wooden church on the grounds at Butovo. His grandfather, also a priest, was shot there, a fact Father Kiril learned only after ex-KGB officers released some of the execution lists. He shakes his head in disbelief as he talks about how retired KGB officers, who live in country houses nearby, would picnic on the sites of mass graves. He's hoping his church will help relatives of the victims find some peace.