For the Good of the Cause (13 page)

In publishing Yuri Barabash’s article “What Is ‘Right’?” the editors felt—and still feel—that the critic’s comments on Solzhenitsyn’s story were well founded. In his article “Is the Critic Right?” Dmitri Granin voices another point of view about the story. This paper printed Granin’s article in the belief that the exchange of differing opinions on problems of literature is useful in itself. Today, having previously published a critic and a writer, we have given space to a reader. It seems to the editors that R. N. Seliverstov makes valid comments on Solzhenitsyn’s story and Granin’s article.

Solzhenitsyn’s story obviously would not in itself have provided material for a continuing discussion had not some general questions of principle—primarily the question of the class approach versus the “universal,” extrasocial approach to the concepts of humanism and justice—arisen in the course of the debate. These problems have attracted the attention of the critics and of our readers.

In letters received by the editors there is support for the author’s criticism of people like Knorozov and Khabalygin. It is impossible not to agree with the opinion of one of the readers, the engineer Y. Dunaevsky of Baltisk, who, while paying tribute to Solzhenitsyn’s talent, writes: “While duly appreciating the author’s talents, one should not simultaneously extol his mistakes… I believe that he will find in himself sufficient strength to imbue people not with hopelessness, but with confidence in the strength of justice, confidence that, although there are still quite a few Khabalygins and Knorozovs about, they are no longer all—powerful, and that the battle against them is a legitimate one…”

It is exactly this that many of his readers would like to see in Solzhenitsyn’s future works. We must hope that their criticism and advice will help the writer.

A keen ideological battle is going on in the modern world. And we must not for a single moment lower our ideological and ethical standards in our assessment of literary works. It is because we respect a writer’s talent that we cannot make allowances for his artistic mistakes.

Soviet art knows no limitations in the choice of subject matter. All aspects of life arc open to it, including the negative ones. But a socialist-realist artist handles themes from the standpoint of the Communist view of the world.

THE EDITORS

AN AUTHOR’S SUCCESS

We, former Party propagandists, have always believed that it is very important to support everything that is truthful and just, as the Party teaches us.

And this is particularly important at the present time, when our whole people is building Communism—the most just society on earth.

Alexander Solzhenitsyn is absolutely right when he stresses this side of the question in his story
For the Good of the Cause
, where it is a matter of such vital importance for this large and fine group of nine hundred young men and women standing on the threshold of life. This is not an abstract presentation of the question, as Yuri Barabash mistakenly supposes, but a very important problem of bringing up young people in the spirit of the Party’s teachings. Such things ought not to be forgotten, especially by a literary critic.

Barabash’s ironic remarks on the title of the story,
For the Good of the Cause
, are irrelevant. The author of the story is right. In reality, petty bureaucrats (and there are still plenty of them, and quite unreformed ones, in our country) frequently conceal their bureaucratic desires and actions by imaginary “considerations of state” and by appeals to “the good of the cause.” Here Solzhenitsyn exposes just such a situation.

The transfer of the building, put up for the school, to the research institute meant not only the brutal disregard of the rights of the young people to the new premises (and their claims were just, because the building had been built to a large extent by these same young people), but also involved the additional expenditure by the state of a million and a half rubles for alterations. And all this supposedly “for the good of the cause,” though actually because of the ambitions of one man and the careerism of another.

It is truly impossible to understand why Barabash found it necessary to take upon himself the defense of this kind of “national interest.”

As for the two different styles of Party leadership, we are against Knorozov’s “iron-fisted” style, which smacks strongly of the style known in the period of the Stalin cult. We are in favor of Grachikov’s style and we are not afraid of his “excessive” goodness, his genuinely Leninist affection for people and his concern for them, because this is what is most important in Party work. Goodness does not exclude the upholding of high principles or purposeful efficiency in leadership. The unforgettable example and the whole life’s work of Vladimir Ilyich Lenin is sufficient affirmation of this.

We, old Communists, consider that articles such as that of Barbash lead large numbers of readers astray—especially our young people.

So it turns out in fact that Solzhenitsyn’s supposed “failure,” which Barabash writes about, is nothing of the sort. On the contrary,
For the Good of the Cause
is another success both for the author and for us, the readers.

Y. YAMPOLSKAYA, member of the CPSU since 1917

I . OKUNYEVA, member of the CPSU since 1919

M. GOLDBERG, member of the CPSU since 1920

AN OPEN LETTER TO YURI BARABASH

Dear Comrade Barabash,

You were the first to comment in
Literaturnaya Gazeta
on Solzhenitsyn’s story For the Good of the Cause, and on the whole you are right in demanding that an artist should deal with highly controversial moral problems in a concrete, historical manner and should not allow them to be diluted, so to speak, in high-minded abstractions. This demand would evoke sympathy and support if certain of your arguments did not themselves suffer from abstractness and if they were not extremely controversial.

“What Is ‘Right’?”—This is the title of your article, but you fail to answer the question. Do you really in all seriousness believe that it is entirely just to hand over the classrooms built collectively by students and teachers of a school to a research institute on the sole grounds that the institute must be of vital importance? (After all, this institute had not yet been opened; it was still in the process of looking for premises.)

The question is not, of course, a simple one, though in the old days such a question would not have been a problem at all. When one man exercised his despotic will, then the interests of the country and the interests of the many were often ignored. But times have changed. Let us then examine the question, thinking primarily of the story as told by the author himself.

You, Comrade Barabash, charge Solzhenitsyn with being abstract. And even when you quote him, you fail to observe how concrete his thought is. Just judge for yourself: Is Solzhenitsyn really so abstract? Here is Fyodor Mikheyevich speaking to Grachikov:

“Honestly, Ivan, don’t you think it’s stupid? I don’t mean just for the school,
but from the point of view of the state
, isn’t it plain stupid?”

It is precisely from the point of view
of the state
(and not abstractly) that Solzhcnitsyn tries to resolve these controversial moral issues. But it looks as if you, Comrade Barabash, are not trying, to see this. It emerges extremely clearly from the story what the point of view
of the state
amounts to: The building was designed for the school—well-lit and spacious classrooms had been built for the nine hundred students (who had been working in cramped, unsuitable quarters); the new premises had been specially equipped for the laboratories and studies; there were special workshops with concrete floors for the heavy machinery, a gymnasium, a cloakroom for the students, and so forth. The story speaks about all this precisely and in great detail. To alter this building to meet the needs of the research institute, great sums would have to be spent, and these funds would be spent on destroying what had been done—that is, in an anti-state manner. The point of view of the state in Solzhenitsyn is primarily a concrete, economic point of view; it is the battle against that inefficiency which distinguished certain other “administrators” who flourished in the atmosphere of the personality cult.

But in taking the point of view of the state, the writer is not limited to this. His view is both deep and broad, and he links economic questions to questions of ideology and morals. He shows us that anti-state activity in the economy (in this particular instance it was a matter of capital outlay) is motivated by careerism, lack of principles, and disregard for people, for their work and their studies, their present and their future.

Now you, Comrade Barabash, say you are surprised that neither the principal of the school nor the Secretary of the Town Committee showed any pressing desire to talk to the students, to speak frankly to them, though such a conversation, in your opinion, would have been able to take the edge off the sharpness of the conflict. But really, you are proposing a very strange, controversial (not to say unpedagogic) solution. Solzhenitsyn does not have to take the edge off the conflict, because for his characters there can be no reconciliation between right and wrong. Lidia says that to deprive the students of the new building would be to cheat them. And such honest people as Lidia, Fyodor Mikheyevich, and Grachikov are quite unable to play any part in this deception. In this instance to “explain” to the students the “necessity” of handing over their building to the institute would be possible only by resorting to demagogy and lies. And, if this whole deal is against the interests of the state, then such lies would only be an ideological aiding and abetting of that anti-state act. And what would be the effect on the students, now cheated a second time? Their young minds would be outraged by the injustice, and it would be all the more cruel because this injustice and this anti-state act had been committed by people on whom they depend and whom they have to obey.

The reality, concreteness, and profundity of the moral issue in the story are rooted in the direct connection established between inefficient administration and demagogy and lies, which may have (and in fact do have) the most damaging effect on young minds.

Comrade Barabash, you declare one-sidedly and unjustly: “The phrase ‘for the good of the cause,’ which Solzhenitsyn has made the title of his story, has an obviously sarcastic undertone—the words are discredited by the demagogue Khabalygin. Yet these words are not only mouthed by demagogues; they have a real, and most important, meaning. But this is
completely ignored by the author
.” Those words of yours which I have italicized are particularly strange and paradoxical. After all, the story was written in order to reveal the difference between demagogy, pragmatism, and careerism on the one hand, and, on the other, that world of ideas and feelings which exists and must develop and must triumph
for the good of the cause
, of the country, and of people. The
whole
story serves this purpose. It was written for your good and for mine, and for all of us. The most important issues are not “completely ignored” by the writer; they are reaffirmed by the imagery and the conflicts and borne out by the high-mindedness of the fight (by no means an easy one) for the highest interests of the state, for the victory of the common cause.

You did not see in the story any “real, living bonds,” though you saw an “imaginary world, where honest, decent, but weak-willed champions of justice are found to be helpless … in the face of some indifferent, unfeeling force…” But why, in your frame of reference, are these “honest, decent champions of justice” relegated to an imaginary world, and why are the very tangible scoundrels, ruthless crooks, and degenerate bureaucrats characterized vaguely as “some unfeeling force”? Is it really possible to misrepresent so arbitrarily the thoroughly concrete images and thoughts of the writer? And why do you include Grachikov, Lidia, and Fyodor Mikheyevich among the “little people” who allegedly “racked their brains in fruitless efforts to answer the question … What is ‘right’?” Once again you are inaccurate, you again misinterpret arbitrarily the real meaning of the characters and situations. Solzhenitsyn’s story is not a medieval tract about good and evil, but a very concrete work, the essence of which has already been discussed. Fyodor Mikheyevich is by no means preoccupied with solving the “question” of right and wrong (remember, he does not even utter these words). He is completely a man of this world, unselfishly absorbed in his own cause, and he is far less concerned with talking than with doing and
fighting
. How could you classify him and Grachikov as “little people”?

For goodness’ sake, have you forgotten the end of the story? Fyodor Mikheyevich there threatens Khabalygin (“Just wait, you swine,” he says to him), and it is quite clear that the “little” principal is by no means “little,” but a real, life-sized man, that he is not broken (times have changed) but, on the contrary, inspired by righteous anger, he is fighting and will go on fighting until he wins.

You included Grachikov among the “little people,” though at the same time you say quite rightly that the scene in the office of the Secretary of the District Committee is treated by Solzhenitsyn as a conflict between two styles of Party work and two political lines: the Leninist one and the one that was decisively condemned at the Twentieth Congress.

How can Grachikov, who stands for the Leninist style of Party work, be described as a “little person”? In essence you put yourself on the side of Knorozov: After all, it was he, Knorozov, who decided, brutally and irrevocably, what must be done “for the good of the cause.”

Knorozov had already decided on (and had already issued instructions about) the transfer of the new building to the still nonexistent research institute, and you, Comrade Barabash, have agreed with this. I cannot see your logic. If the personality cult and everything connected with it are to be condemned, then we must get right to the root of it and clearly expose the improper methods to which the Knorozovs resort, thereby discrediting and damaging our great cause.