(3 of 19)
I flew to Moscow on April 1, bringing a typed copy of the essay. Historian Roy Medvedev came to see me that evening, and I exchanged it for the final chapters of his book on Stalin. Medvedev showed my essay to friends (which I had given him permission to do), and he passed on their comments. After making a few changes, I gave the manuscript back to Medvedev. He was going to produce a dozen or more carbon copies. Some, he warned me, might end up abroad. I replied that I had taken that into account. (We were communicating in writing to foil eavesdroppers.)
On May 18, I paid a call on Yuli Khariton, scientific director of the Installation. I mentioned that I was writing an essay on war and peace, ecology and freedom of expression. Khariton asked what I intended to do with it. "I'll give it to samizdat," I answered, referring to the underground network that had sprung up for circulating dissident writing. "For God's sake, don't do that," he said. "It's too late to stop it now," I confessed.
Early in June I traveled with Khariton to the Installation in his personal railroad car. After supper Khariton said, "((KGB chief Yuri)) Andropov called me in. His agents have been finding copies of your essay all over the place -- it's circulating illegally, and it will cause a lot of harm if it gets abroad. Andropov asked me to talk to you. You ought to withdraw it from circulation."
"Why don't you take a look at it?" I suggested. Khariton retired to his compartment to do so.
"Well, what do you think?" I inquired the next day.
"It's awful."
"The style?"
Khariton grimaced. "No, not the style. It's the content that's awful!"
"The contents reflect my beliefs. It's too late to withdraw it."
In mid-June Andrei Amalrik, who wrote Will the Soviet Union Survive Until 1984? and as a result was imprisoned for five years for defaming the Soviet state, gave a copy of Reflections to a Dutch correspondent. On July 10, a few days after returning to the Installation and exactly seven years after my clash with Khrushchev over nuclear testing, I turned on the BBC or VOA and heard my name. The announcer reported that on July 6 the Dutch newspaper Het Parool had published my article.
The die was cast. That evening I had the most profound feeling of satisfaction. The following day I was due to fly to Moscow but stopped at my office at 9 a.m. and told Khariton, "My article's been published abroad."
"I knew it would happen" was all Khariton could say. He looked crushed. Two hours later, I left for the airfield. I was never to set foot in my office again.
A Dangerous Muddle
Toward the end of July, Slavsky summoned me to the ministry. "Party secretaries have been calling from all over the country," he said, "demanding firm measures to put a stop to counterrevolutionary propaganda in my ministry." Of Reflections, he said, "It's a dangerous muddle. You criticize the leaders' privileges -- you've enjoyed the same privileges. Those who bear immense responsibilities, difficult burdens, deserve some advantages. It's for the cause.