The Thinking Reed

On 1 March 1987 Moskovskie Novosti published an article by L. Karpinsky, ‘It Is Silly To Hesitate Before An Open Door’, which dealt with the dissidents, or, more exactly, with those among them who hold left-wing views. The writer was himself once expelled from the Party for propagating the ideas of the ‘Prague spring’, so he is able to speak from knowledge in this matter. Karpinsky stressed the similarity between the way Brezhnevism was criticized from the Left in the seventies and the conclusions drawn officially by the Twenty-Seventh Party Congress and the January 1987 Plenum of the Central Committee. According to Karpinsky, most dissidents hold progressive views, and the socialist opposition ought now to take an active part ‘in the practical work of building a new reality’. Criticism of the past must be combined with work for the future, on the basis of the revolutionary formula: ‘More socialism, and therefore more democracy’.

When Karpinsky’s article appeared, the release of Academician Sakharov from exile was still being discussed: Sakharov had been for many years the actual leader and symbol of the dissident movement. Political prisoners were returning home one after another. Activists of the socialist youth groups remained in the camps, as before, but their release in the near future was also expected. True, Karpinsky was dissembling a little when he wrote that the dissidents adhered to the ideals of the left-wing movement. Most of the well-known dissidents of the seventies were either indifferent to the question of social organization, being concerned exclusively with the provision of guaranteed civil rights, or else were supporters of free enterprise. But the Moskovskie Novosti article had to provide an ideological basis for the liberal decisions of the reforming leadership, to show that in freeing Sakharov and other dissidents the country’s leaders were acting not only wisely but in accordance with principle.

The real problem, however, lay elsewhere. For the representatives of the Left opposition, there could be no question of whether or not to participate in the changes. Every one of them who was at liberty was already doing all they could, without Karpinsky’s advice. The problem was, how to participate. If Karpinsky’s logic meant simply that one should support the liberal initiatives from above, there could be no particular significance in such support. The trouble with the liberal intelligentsia was that it showed itself quite incapable of any constructive initiative of its own, preferring just to applaud Gorbachev’s decisions. The louder the applause, the more energetic the support. However, an acute need for new ideas, a new culture, had arisen in society; what was wanted was criticism not so much of the past as of the present, not so much of others as of ourselves, and a rejection of liberal dogmas no less resolute than our rejection of any others. The events which have taken place in our country are important not only for us. The wave of conservatism which swept over the world in the early eighties is beginning to subside. The need for radical reforms is beginning to be realized by ever wider circles in countries of every type. Socialist ideas may once more become attractive to public opinion in the West. How well the progressive forces in the USSR cope with their new role will determine more than their own future. The present state of things is not as wonderful as one might have wished, and events are developing less smoothly than some journalists make out. Yet there are no grounds for pessimism. We shall hope for the best.

Notes

2 Glasnost ', the Soviet Press and Red Greens 1

One of the most dramatic consequences so far of perestroika [reconstruction] in the Soviet Union is the rapid growth of interest in newspapers and magazines. In the final years of the Brezhnev era the circulation of many publications fell steadily; newspapers and magazines lost subscribers and often contributors. As for samizdat, it too was in a crisis — all the most interesting unofficial journals had ceased to exist, either under pressure from the authorities or because editors no longer saw any particular sense in continuing. Moreover, samizdat was not able to compete with Russian-language publications based abroad (tamizdat), and surreptitiously brought into the country in ever-increasing quantities. Many people complained that tamizdat had gobbled up samizdat, but without itself becoming a force in the internal literary life of the country. Thus there was no one and nothing to fill the cultural vacuum created by the crisis in the official press under Brezhnev.