Open Letter

There are full-scale repressions going on in our country.

For these past several months, the main question bothering me has been, why? Why is this happening?

The political reasons are obvious: politicians do not think in the dimension of humaneness or humanism, when a deep primeval fear of losing their power wakes up in them. Then, in the heat of the moment, they grab even those who are not a threat to them. In this sense, there is no tool more efficient than imitating a law-abiding behavior in the citizens through the method of scaring them all into it. It’s clear when it comes to politicians. For them, throwing someone in prison is just making a phone call or signing some paper. They won’t know this person’s suffering or the adversities they are facing in confinement. It’s doubtful they even fully understand what losing your freedom means; I think if they did, they would never act in this way.

But there’s something I can’t wrap my head around… It’s how all these normal people who put the repressions in practice live: investigators, prosecutors, judges, assistant judges recording what is happening in their protocols with their eyes round with astonishment; the endless Center E employees who forge documents. Hello! I can’t understand how are you living with this and how come you’re sleeping well at night?

—How was work today, love?

—Oh, I just signed a petition to jail a woman who I think shouldn’t be in custody.

—Mom, why did you come home so late today?

—I got a call and was asked to put someone in prison. But their lawyer and support group just couldn’t understand that and dragged out the hearing. So inappropriate. What’s wrong with them?

—Dad, and what did you do today?

—I came up with criminal groups and put there people who will be imprisoned on different charges because there was an order to do so.

Tell me, is this really how it all is? I’ll never believe that.

I think it’s more likely you’re shamefully keeping silent about what’s happening and shrug your shoulders: “Oh, but what could be done about this? I’m a small person and I don’t make any decisions.” Maybe you’re convincing yourselves that the people who have expressed their opinion are the most dangerous criminals—more dangerous than rapists, murderers, and fraudsters—because an article of the Criminal Code that has only been around for five minutes defines dissidence as a grave crime punishable by enormous sentences. Maybe you’re telling themselves, “Sure, but sometimes I’m catching real criminals—it’s just that you have to do this too from time to time. Well, it comes with territory.”

Maybe you’re calling it by a different name: “Oh, don’t say that, there aren’t any repressions happening now—1937 is when that happened… Now it’s just disciplinary measures, nothing more.” Maybe you’re finding reasons to feel you’re doing the right thing. Maybe you think that the reappraisal of the values won’t happen while you’re still around and won’t be concerned with your actions. And when you are asked, “Why did you persecute people, why did you throw them into prison?”—you will answer that there was nothing you could do, because it was the order. Maybe you’re telling yourselves, “Anyway, this is the lesser evil.” (Hannah Arendt, a Jewish woman who survived the Holocaust, says, quoting a Judaic text, “those who choose the lesser evil forget quickly that they chose evil.”) It’s possible that in the Soviet Union, people at least were blinded by some ideology and thought their actions were bringing communism closer. But there is no ideology today, only the fear of ending up in prison yourself, of losing your job and a stable income. Can it be that money and a job are more important for you than being human?

Is it that you do not know history? Is the obvious fact that the repressed are remembered and rehabilitated hidden from you? That the following generations look for them, maintain the precious memory of them, and tell their children of them? But those who put the repressive measures in practice are not remembered—the memory of them is shameful and bitter, the fact of being related to them is hidden, no one is proud of them, and their names are erased from memory.

So why are you living as if there were no tomorrow?

I believe in people. I even believe that you still have something human left in you. That in your heart of hearts, there still lives the knowledge that you are doing the wrong thing. That is why your words do not sound loud and clear. You read out your resolutions so that even a mouse couldn’t hear you. Because you are ashamed. Listen to this feeling, because you still can stop. Take the path of humanism. Use your right to choose for yourselves. Show the free will that differentiates a person from an animal. That’s right: you really can stop supporting repressions. You can become a source of pride for your children and grandchildren instead of being a black stain on their family tree that they will be ashamed of. You can change something today. And I really believe that you can.

August 23, 2022

Translated from Russian

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