The elections to the parliament of the Russian Federation went by. [Nikolai] Ryzhkov [chairman of the USSR Council of Ministers] who was supported by the KGB suffered defeat. We discussed the results. Here was a conversation among the leaders of the best informed and politically savvy agency of the nation—the KGB. What were the inferences? First inference: The mass media have duped the public. But then the logical question “Why wasn’t the party with its huge propaganda apparatus not been able to dupe the public?” hung suspended in an uneasy silence. The second inference: The elections were rigged and the ballot count falsified. But then where were the election officials and the party functionaries? And precisely at which point did the rigging take place? And a final argument based on the numbers voting and the percent supporting the victors. It turned out that less than half of the population voted for the victors. How many then voted for the losers? I suspect that such “informal analysis” was all the committee was capable of. To look with a dispassionate eye at the mood of the people was frightening. The Committee tried to hide behind the particulars in order not to see the whole.
According to tradition, the relations among the vice-chairmen were once marked by a spirit of competition. This was no longer true in my time, and, at the least, I could count on the understanding of my colleagues in all practical matters.
317
The vice-chairmen did not make up an unofficial collective ruling body. Kriuchkov’s authority was too great for that and it kept his immediate subordinates in check. In the KGB as well as in other state agencies the power of the chief and the extent of his influence were determined by his relations with the government leaders. His competence, expertise and the respect of his staff were factors of secondary importance. A huge role in professional advancement was played by personal loyalty to one’s superior. The Committee imitated the laws and customs which ruled Party behavior. It could not have been otherwise. These laws were universal throughout the whole system. I think that they were instrumental in my career as well. In any case as is expected of an officer, and all cadre of the KGB, I always strove to execute all orders conscientiously, even if they did not appeal to me, and avoided conflicts with my superiors. It was uncharacteristic of me to bull my way through situations and promote my point of view at any cost in debates with those above me. In such circumstances it frequently seemed to me that I could be in the wrong. Doubts about the fullness of my knowledge, validity of my deductions and suggested solutions have always haunted me. I have long suspected that today’s absolute convictions may tomorrow become grave errors; science becomes superstition and heroic acts become mistakes or crimes. But doubts were not a primary factor. Over many years we were trained in the spirit of severe discipline, submission to superiors, and faith in their professional and ruling wisdom.
We had to believe our leaders in all respects. Our doubts would be discussed in a tight circle of trusted people. Public apostasy from the general line was persecuted. In more severe times an apostate would be anathematized by the party and dismissed. For lesser sins he would be moved to some secondary position and denied the possibility of independent work and professional growth. Thus the limits of disagreement and conflict with the leadership were evident to every associate. I was not among that small number who broke the unwritten rules of the KGB.
In contemplating the vicissitudes of professional life and the necessity to dissemble (this occurred with some frequency), to scheme, to repeat the lies of others, I came to a sad formulation: A person who receives a salary cannot lay claim to intellectual freedom.
However, differences with Kriuchkov did arise. They were precipitated by constant tension, anxiety about the internal condition of the country, and simple fatigue. Brief firefights over the telephone with the chairman became increasingly frequent. He rarely visited the First Directorate and even more rarely called me in for a personal report. In early August of 1991 Kriuchkov rebuked me over a trifle, accused me of vainglory and promised to come out and give me a serious talking to. I accepted the vainglory accusation with
318
some modification. I sensed that he had wanted to knock me down a peg for some time. But that “talking to” never did take place.