The Thinking Reed полностью

The new Left looks on the liberalism of the sixties as a heritage from the past. In their opinion, many ‘children of the Twentieth Congress’, who have now attained a respectable age, have failed to draw the lessons from their mistakes. Sixties liberalism was indifferent to social problems and, as a rule, felt no particular interest in the masses. There were, of course, exceptions to this rule (for example, Ovechkin’s sketches, published in Khrushchev’s time, provided material for Buravsky’s play). In the last analysis, however, the masses were not affected all that much by the ideas of the Twentieth Congress, and the intelligentsia did not take much trouble to change this attitude. In the eighties, on the contrary, the changes that are being made affect directly the lives of the majority of the Soviet people, and it is on the activity of the lower orders that the fate of the new political course will ultimately depend. Objectively, the process of change has already gone much further than under Khrushchev. This provides grounds for optimism.

The chief weakness of the new Left is the persistent gap between ‘high’ culture and the ‘low’ culture of the youth. Among the representatives of ‘high’ culture the ideas and the people of the sixties predominate. So long as there is no synthesis, or at least dialogue, between the two cultures, liberalism will inevitably retain hegemony. Radical moods by no means always engender constructive programmes. From protest to alternative ideas the road is long and complicated, especially when what is involved is not the settling of some partial question but the transformation of a culture. The new Left has no press organs of its own, whereas the ‘children of the Twentieth Congress’ were able to group themselves around the journal Novy Mir, which became in the sixties a real headquarters for the radical movement. The radicals and youth leaders who are outside the bounds of that milieu do not enjoy the same authority as was possessed by the Novy Mir group.

Lakshin, who once directed the literary criticism section in Novy Mir and figured as one of the ideologists of the Left in the sixties, has acknowledged that many members of his generation have failed to appreciate the true dynamic of the process that has been taking place, and that they display a characteristic ‘lack of feeling for their times’.13 It seems to the ‘children of the Twentieth Congress’ that their hour has come at last. The new Left fear that people who already missed their chance twenty years ago are liable to repeat that unfortunate experience. Everyone argues about how long the present ‘thaw’ will last, and echoes of these debates have already been heard on television. On 16 March 1987, for example, viewers were able to see how the political columnist Pozner — who made his name in discussions with his American colleague Donoghue — was obliged to defend himself in the face of aggressive questioning from young people who were not very confident of the effectiveness and durability of glasnost'’. But only a few are giving thought to the question of what can be done to provide structural consolidation for the changes that have begun, how to make firmer the ground under their feet.

‘How much time is left?’ people ask each other. Hypnotized by their own question, they fail to realize how much depends on society itself, on themselves. Writers hasten to ‘force’ into print their old novels which could not previously pass the censor. But this vanity of theirs merely destabilizes the situation. One wants to shout: ‘Stop! Think of the present, try to understand the tasks of today!’ Up to now, however, the heritage of the past has had priority over ideas addressed to the future. This is why, already in its first stages, the social movement bears within itself elements of internal crisis. And this crisis can be overcome only when the new Left formulates its positions more precisely and constructively and wins the influence among the intelligentsia that it still does not have.