Mikhail Agursky describes the characteristics of the political philosophy of the ‘village prose school’ as isolationism, anti-militarism and disappointment with internationalism, which is especially marked in Abramov and Rasputin. The ‘village prose’ writers are the most peaceable group among the nationalists, but the more aggressive Neo-Slavophils are also inclined towards isolationism:
For some, Russia itself is the ideal, even without the Union Republics; for others it is a powerful Russian Empire which will make other countries tremble but will not attempt to seize them by force. Isolationism is sometimes linked with pacifism, while militarism, on the other hand, is seen by others as an important, even essential part of national life without which the nation is in danger of degeneration.81
It must be realized that people like Rasputin think quite differently from somebody like Ilya Glazunov.
In Rasputin’s novella Poslednyi srok [The Last Term] both present-day language and the values of the new generation of consumers clash with traditional values and, at the same time, with eternity — with death. They do not stand up to this test. Putting the question like that does not and cannot have any deliberately reactionary and retrograde implications. It is natural that in a period when the future is uncertain it is precisely the past, tradition, history that prove to be the only generally accessible criteria for testing and evaluating the present. The ‘back-to-the-soil’ people have at least two important positive ideas — defence of architectural monuments and protection of the environment (for them, nature and the art of the past are embodiments of the eternal). Both these problems, however, can bring together people of varying political views.82 As early as 1963 the journal Oktyabr', unquestionably of the reactionary persuasion, campaigned in defence of Lake Baikal, which was threatened with ruin through the building of an industrial complex on its shore.83 At that time the fight for Baikal united many, from extreme conservatives to extreme liberals. The movement had little success. Pollution of the lake still went on, merely not as fast as before, and discussion of the matter in the press was strictly forbidden. But the ‘village prose’ writers were concerned that the public should learn of the catastrophic state of the environment, despite the silence of the newspapers. The ecologist B. Komarov wrote that ‘in certain works of documentary-fictional prose such as V. Astaf'ev’s Tsar'-ryba or V. Rasputin’s Proshchanie s Materoy, there is more of the tragic truth about the destruction of nature than in strictly scientific writings.’84 To the barbarism of a soulless society, to alienation, they try to counterpose certain absolute values. ‘In the face of growing barbarism,’ writes Komarov, ‘both the author of the outstanding novel Proshchanie s Materoy, V. Rasputin, and the author of the documentary tale Operatsiya “Kotel”, V. Sapozhnikov, turn to the concepts “God” and “the immortal soul”. They can find no other absolute, non-transient values.’85
One can, of course, find in religion many sound and profound moral ideas, but it is no secret that religion in itself provides no answers to concrete sociopolitical economic, social and ecological questions. Turning to God, as Komarov says, ‘symbolizes one’s despair’.86 And a sense of social despair is what impels people towards religion, in which they hope to find spiritual escape, at least.
The increasing popularity of religion had to be acknowledged in the official press as well. ‘Young people, too, are to be seen’, wrote E. Filimonov in Izvestiya,
at services in Orthodox and other churches, especially at the prayer-meetings of the Baptists, Seventh-Day Adventists and Pentecostals. It has become ‘fashionable’ to get married in church, to have one’s children baptized, and to wear little crosses next to the skin.87
These moods became widespread first of all among the intellectuals.
‘Do we not reject religion too sweepingly?’ said a young scientist. ‘Go to church, listen to Rakhmaninov’s “All-Night Vigil” as it sounds within the walls of an ancient church, by the bright gleam of candles and the gilded settings of icons! Isn’t that marvellous?
These remarks by ‘a young scientist’ are quoted in the newspaper Sovetskaya Kultura, which admits that such views are held not by him alone, but ‘not uncommonly’.88 The newspaper even mentions the connection between interest in religion and disillusionment with propaganda, because ‘our demands and tastes often prove to be on a higher level than is supposed by some information media and cultural institutions.’ It notes that religion has succeeded in ‘extending the frontiers of its influence, spreading this even among the educated strata of the population, the artistic and technical intelligentsia’.89 Izvestiya also admits that ‘we really do come into conflict with an increase of interest in religion and the Church.’90 This admission is all the more valuable because when something similar was said by a Western ecclesiastic who had visited the USSR, his words were declared to be ‘lies bordering on provocation’.91 To be sure, when it comes to explaining why, the Soviet papers put the whole blame on the ‘village prose’ writers and propagandists for church music. Against the religious revival the authors of these articles can oppose only lectures and talks. They do not, of course, want to discuss the social and ideological roots of religion (in official circles in the Soviet Union Marx has long been forgotten). Filimonov complains that ‘grandmothers’ lead young people astray. Yet here’s a strange fact. Twenty years ago the churches were full of old people, and it is the same today. But those old worshippers of twenty years ago are long since dead! A new shift has come on, and what is interesting is that today’s ‘grandmothers’ were Komsomol members in the 1920s. Previously, they never went to church. Amazing, too, is the charge of ‘conformism’ hurled by Filimonov at the religious youth, for in a country where atheism has been proclaimed the state ideology and religion — to put it mildly — is not approved of, it is not conformism that leads a person into church.
People hope to find in the Church liberation from the dogmas of official ideology, but Orthodoxy can offer them only illusory liberation. In Lithuania they may still put their hopes in some liberating power possessed by Catholicism, but would it be a great gain if the rigid dogmatism of Stalinism were to be replaced by the dogmatism — no less rigid — of Russian Orthodoxy? At best we should be merely replacing a poor copy by the original, but is the original any good?