I shrugged. "Nothing. What you're describing sounds very much like patriotism, Mr. Loginov… as in the Great Patriotic War."
"Perhaps it is. But let us reserve that word 'patriotic' for something undoubtedly honorable. We should use another one… something different, maybe just a neutral word like 'nationalism.' But it doesn't make any difference — the important thing is to understand what it means."
"And what does it mean?"
"Listen a moment. What I'm talking about began in the sixties, with students. But our students in those years were different from your own. Their rebellion was expressed by looking back, searching for old ways rather than new ones. They became fascinated by the Russian past, and took little trips to Vladimir and Suzdal to look at the old buildings and monuments. It was all very innocent. But soon, you see, they attracted quite a following — respectable people like Antonov, the airplane designer — and then the Party decided to play along, and something was formed called the All-Russian Society for the Protection of Historical Monuments. By '67, according to Tass, they had three million members… which was just the tip of the iceberg. Aboveground, nationalist themes began getting played up in the press — even the Party press— and underground, in samizdat, you began seeing ultranational-ists like the Veche group take over… I think you must have heard of them."
"Yes," I said. "Vladimir Osipov. A Slavic nationalist: Russia for the Russians as opposed to the Uzbeks, the Tatars, the Jews, the Kazakhs, the Yakuts, and all the other minorities. Who now make up more than fifty percent of your population."
"I think you are too polite. 'Slavic nationalist'…" He made a face. "People like Osipov are anti-Semites, racists, and chauvinists. And if you don't want to say it about them, then what about VSKhSON?" He spat out the name: "The AU-Russian Social-Christian Union for the Liberation of the People… They speak of 'spiritual rebirth,' the 'revival of Orthodoxy,' 'freedom of conscience,' but for them these words mean nothing more than they did to the Nazis."
"Mr. Loginov, VSKhSON never had more than forty members and was crushed… by an organization we've agreed not to talk about."
"True. Officially, that is true."
An interesting qualification. But I hesitated now for another reason. I was making connections: I was hearing Travin's voice on the phone—We can talk about the by liny or the beguny or the Black Hundreds… and there was that emigre paper I'd found in the dump.
Carefully, I said, "You understand that I do not support such people?"
"Yes. I know that."
"And you surely don't expect me to believe that you're really afraid of them? Even the CIA has given up its fantasies about the Soviet people rising up to throw out the Bolsheviks and bring back the Czar."
He shook his head. "That is not the point, Mr. Thorne. Of course you are right. No one — from 'below'—will overthrow this regime. With us, all change starts 'upstairs,' in the Party. But think of the Party for just a minute. Do you imagine it is composed of fools? Of idiots? Do you think our good Party people do not see the grave problems that now face the Soviet Union? Naturally they do. Let me give you even a single example. Everyone knows that Soviet agriculture is a disaster — this Western talk about our attacking America is crazy, Mr. Thorne, because if we bombed Kansas or Manitoba, we Russians would all starve the next year. But why? Our land is huge and rich. Our fanners have enough tractors — that can no longer be the excuse. The reason is the system itself. Do you know that the private plots of our collective farmers — the 'capitalist plots,' we like to say — occupy less than three percent of our agricultural land but produce about thirty percent of what we eat? If you are in the Party, what does that tell you? That the system has failed, Mr. Thorne, that's what it tells you."
"So change systems."
"Yes, but how do you do that and keep the Party in power? How do you do that and ensure that Russia doesn't fall into pieces? Ideology, belief, faith, myth — this is the glue that holds a nation together. If you take the system apart, and try to put it together in a different way, you must have a new glue. Do you see?"
I saw. But I wanted to make sure I saw right. "You're saying that elements in the Party are thinking that an extreme right-wing form of nationalism—"
"Might create in the country the sort of spirit that saw us through the war with the Germans."
I looked at him, then sat back in my chair. I should say that I wasn't shocked or startled by any of this; in fact, he really had told me nothing I didn't know already. But hearing it from him… somehow, that seemed to make a great difference.
I said, "You talk about 'elements in the Party'—who exactly do you mean?"
He shrugged. Smiled. "They are all politicians, of course. Some are Stalinists: for them it is just a chance to return to the hard line of the past. Others truly believe what they say; they talk about a 'new vision of Russia.' There are also some of the young technocrats — technocrats, you might say, who see the limits of their technocracy. They understand that 'management' can't do everything; at some level, there must be belief. And of course — you understand — there are also followers of this tendency outside the Party, in other Soviet institutions."
"Such as?"
"Surely you can guess. Where does this sort of ideology traditionally flourish?"
"The military, you mean?"
He nodded. And there was something in the abruptness of this nod that denied the sophistication of his clothes and his manner — that labeled him KGB in a different way altogether.
I said, "This must be a great worry."
He pursed his lips, wiggled his hand in an equivocal gesture. "A cloud on the horizon." Then his fingers fished a cigarette out of the pack on the table. He frowned as he lit it. "I don't wish to exaggerate," he said. "Nothing will happen about this today or tomorrow, or even next month… but five years from now? Who knows?… In any event, there is one aspect of all this that you might find especially of interest. It concerns the West, you see. A clandestine group — representatives of this tendency — are trying to establish themselves outside of Russia. ¦ ¦. They are, if you like, putting the resources together."
"Why would they bother?"
"Don't fool yourself, Mr. Thorne. What happens outside of Russia — the attitudes of foreign governments — has great effect on what goes on here. Besides, there are many practical advantages. Safe havens. Lures. Certain allies… Mundane considerations: for example, if you wished to speak with the captain of a Soviet destroyer, to influence him, it would probably be easier to do it in Djakarta than here in Leningrad."
I nodded. Of course he was right. Such a "tendency," to use his word, would need a Western base, even if it was only Switzerland again, to wait out one more Russian exile. And establishing this would require resources… such as some old gold certificates worth a cool twelve million dollars. Yet how had they discovered the map that told them where to dig for such treasure?
I turned back to Loginov. "You say the military might be one center for this kind of tendency… Might there not be another as well, closer to home — to your home, I mean?"
"Perhaps."
"In fact, there might even be a certain loss of control?"