Echoes of the Soviet Soul: A Journey Through Turbulent Times

In this candid narrative, the author shares personal memories of life in the Soviet Union, starting from a poor childhood in the 1930s and reflecting on the country's dissolution in 1991. He recounts how his worldview was shaped by Soviet ideology, the heroes of that era, and the events of the Great Patriotic War. Reflecting on the hardships and joys, the author considers the role of the Communist Party and leaders like Stalin, and their impact on the lives of ordinary people. This text provides an invaluable insider’s perspective on an era that left an indelible mark on history and the lives of millions.

Having lived many years in this world, I can't help but compare different periods of my life. My generation has witnessed many turbulent political and economic events. Each era provided its own spiritual nourishment and shaped our worldview. I believe that a person's worldview is mainly formed by the prevailing ideology in society during their most active years of learning about the world. From personal experience, I think that a person's views on life, their relationships with the world, and their key character traits are formed by the age of twenty. Of course, changes in views can happen later, but only under significant pressure from circumstances. My reflections here are based on personal experience, so they are not absolute truths.

I was born into a very poor family. My mother was a maid in a wealthy household, and my father was a chimney sweep. When I was born, my father was sent into exile for seven years, so I first saw him at the age of seven. Unfortunately, he made my childhood the hardest period of my life, which also influenced my character development. I remember my childhood from the age of four. We lived in a semi-basement room: my mother, my brother, who was two years older than me, and I. The two-story house stood isolated from other houses. The only neighbor was a small house nearby, where a caretaker, Uncle Viktor, lived with his daughter, who was my age and my playmate.

Uncle Viktor taught me to read early on, and by the age of four, I could read, forming some kind of worldview. I would go upstairs, see empty rooms, and scattered pages of books on the floor. I remember a hardcover book with torn pages and a very small font, or perhaps it was in Russian, which I couldn't read, but the portraits were smeared with ink. I was puzzled by why the ink was spilled in the book. I read a book in a soft cover with large print called "How Our Grandfathers Lived and Fought." This memory also stuck with me and possibly began shaping my pro-Soviet worldview.

In the 1930s, families like ours didn't subscribe to any periodicals, and not every place had a radio, but we still knew what was happening in the country. We knew about polar explorers, pilots, the border guard Karatsupa and his dog, and more. We were proud of them. There was no mention of the repressions, but there was great love for Stalin, Beria, Voroshilov, and others. In my imagination, Stalin was an old and very kind grandfather, while Voroshilov was a strong, athletic young man, the best marksman. Our country was the best in the world, with no "Mr. Twisters." We loved black people, while others did not. We protected the children of Spain while others killed them. We had the strongest army, with the kindest and bravest soldiers. We also had the kindest man in the world, Grandpa Lenin. Our country was the largest and most beautiful. We all adored Chapaev, always hoping he'd make it to the shore in the movies. The villains who didn't love us or our country had to be defeated. This was the spiritual nourishment that shaped our worldview.

Naturally, we loved the Soviet government and homeland, which led to the heroic deeds of Soviet people during the Great Patriotic War. This kind of spiritual nourishment didn't affect everyone equally, but tens of millions experienced the reality of building socialism based on internal resources, mainly at the expense of agriculture. The war clearly showed this too.

As for me, I belonged to the majority who believed in what was written in the press and said on the radio. We lived very poorly, but we were promised a bright future, and we believed in it. I believed in Stalin, who was, for me, the wisest and kindest person. I had doubts about his military genius only when the Germans reached Stalingrad. Until then, I justified our retreat as a strategy to lure the Germans in. But Stalingrad was something different. The victory there erased all my doubts, and Stalin was once again my genius leader.

I celebrated Victory Day in the center of Tbilisi, walking along Rustaveli Avenue with a classmate, discussing the future. At almost 15 years old, I was optimistic about a freer and happier life post-war. This discussion later made me wonder why I emphasized future freedom so much, perhaps sensing that our life wasn't truly free.

In the summer of 1945, we were asked to leave the school where we had lived for about two years and moved to Vladikavkaz for better living conditions. It wasn't easy, and Stalin's praise was widespread, especially in Georgia. When the Germans approached the Caucasus Mountains, Georgians called Stalin a "bastard Ossetian," but after the victory, he became the great son of Georgia again. Films were released, portraying Stalin as the mastermind behind the October Revolution, with Lenin merely present. Victories in the Civil War and against foreign interventionists were attributed to Stalin's leadership.

In the late 1940s, the fight against cosmopolitanism began. It was forbidden to mention foreign pioneers in physics or chemistry lessons without first acknowledging our scientists. People began doubting socialism after seeing how others lived under "decaying" capitalism. This restrictive atmosphere stifled free thought. Although I remained a Leninist and Stalinist, doubt started creeping in. The film "The Fall of Berlin," which deified Stalin, particularly disturbed me. The final scenes showed the country venerating Stalin to an extreme level. This made me realize the extent of sycophancy, which later generations criticized.

Despite everything, I maintained my belief that the Soviet government was the best in the world and respected the Communist Party. I thought individuals could make mistakes, but the party never did. All our achievements were credited to the party. When I joined the army, I applied to join the party. Although initially unsuccessful, I later became a candidate member in 1956 and a full member in 1957. My faith in the party persisted for a long time, but from the late 1970s, I started having significant doubts.

By the 1950s, my admiration for Stalin had faded. Reading his works on linguistics and economics didn't impress me, even though we were made to admire and summarize them. I couldn't see the genius in them, unlike others. In Marxism-Leninism classes, we had to praise his works, but I felt that long-serving leaders became a hindrance to the country's progress. This view was repeatedly confirmed in practice.

For instance, Putin, with all his experience, has become an obstacle to further development. Wise people set term limits for leadership to prevent dictatorial tendencies. Since 1996, there haven't been genuine elections in our country. I envy how "decaying" America conducts elections, whereas we have candidates like Sobchak from a reality show, which is embarrassing.

Eventually, everyone dies, including Stalin. With no suitable successor, power struggles ensued, often won by the most cunning and unscrupulous individuals. This happened in our country, leading to a leader with minimal education ruling a nuclear-powered nation.

The 1950s marked the beginning of the Soviet Union's decline, though the signs were not yet visible. Fear, a powerful tool for the country's construction, began to fade. The 20th Party Congress shook the foundations of Marxism-Leninism. Before the Congress, Stalin was seen as the sole correct interpreter of Marxism-Leninism, but he was revealed to be a criminal. This caused a serious split in the understanding of socialism.

This ideological shift also affected me. Although I remained loyal to the party and socialism, the criticism of Stalin felt personal, as he was my fellow countryman. Even now, I find it unpleasant to hear criticisms of Stalin, despite their validity. The power struggles of the late 1950s showed me that the top leaders were ordinary people, not semi-gods.

As a political worker, I read a lot of party literature, repeatedly going through Lenin's works. I admired Lenin's logical reasoning but noticed he could logically refute his own arguments in different writings. I remained a Marxist because, as a political worker in the Soviet Army, it was my duty to uphold socialism.

However, discrepancies between our teachings and reality became evident. Literature criticizing Stalinism often veiled anti-Soviet ideology, which I had to analyze. After the 20th Congress, my firm belief in Marxist-Leninist theory wavered. Later, I concluded that the 20th Congress initiated the collapse of the Soviet Union. Living under socialism for 61 years, I don't believe it was entirely a bad system. At least, it didn't allow for the blatant exploitation seen today.

Our leadership lacked economic knowledge and international trade expertise. We isolated ourselves ideologically and didn't learn from capitalists. Khrushchev's ambitious goals to surpass America by 1970 were unrealistic. By 1970, we hadn't achieved much, and Brezhnev's leadership further disillusioned me with its stagnation and corruption.

The worsening economic situation, empty stores, and unfulfilled promises made it hard to believe in building communism. After retiring from the army, I saw the gap between our ideology and practical life, leading to the events of 1991.