system.After
hisreleaseinthe1950s,hecollected
accountsfromotherformerinmates,
and welded them together into a
great sprawling epic of oral history
that
he
called The
Gulag
Archipelago .
Solzhenitsyncomparedthecamp
system itself to a cancer, spreading
from its original point of mutation
on
the
Solovetsky
Islands
–
colloquially known as Solovki.
Camp officials were aggressive
cancer cells, the camps they set up
werethesecondarygrowths.Instead
of voyaging up blood vessels and
lymph canals as cancers do in the
body,
the
metastasizing
prison
system spread up railways and
rivers.
‘In the summer of 1929 an
expedition of unconvoyed prisoners
was sent to the Chibyu River from
Solovki,’ he wrote. ‘The expedition
was successful – and camp was set
up on the Ukhta, Ukhtlag. But it,
too, did not stand still on its own
spot,butquicklymetasta-sizedtothe
north-east,annexedthePechora,and
was transformed into UkhtPechlag.
Soon afterwards it had Ukhta, Inta,
Pechora, and Vorkuta sections – all
of
them
the
bases
of
great
independentfuturecamps.’
The conditions, he wrote, were
‘twelve months of winter, the rest
summer’. The camps expanded
rapidly in the 1920s and 1930s,
when the likes of Father Dmitry’s
father were imprisoned. But they
became still worse in the 1940s
whenthewarstretchedthecountry’s
resources and left even free citizens
hungry, let alone prisoners. Work
norms increased, while food rations
were cut. According to statistics
published later, 352,560 prisoners
diedin1942,whichwasoneinfour
of the prison population. In 1943,
thedeathrateimprovedslightly,and
only one in five prisoners died:
267,826people.
Solzhenitsyn wrote how nothing
was wasted on human comforts, not
even to honour the dead. ‘At one
time in Old Russia it was thought
that a corpse could not get along
without a coffin. Even the lowliest
serfs, beggars, and tramps were
buried in coffins,’ he wrote. ‘When
at Inta after the war one honoured
foreman of the woodworking plant
was actually buried in a coffin, the
Cultural and Educational Section
was instructed to make propaganda:
work well and you, too, will be
buriedinawoodencoffin.’
More than two million people
died in the camps of the gulag
during the war years, many of them
building this railway line I was
travelling on. When Nazi Germany
invaded the Soviet Union, its troops
rapidly overran the rich coal fields
around Donetsk in Ukraine. Stalin’s
government, in desperate need of
fuel, charged the prisoners with
laying rails across the tundra to Inta
–foundedin1942–andtoVorkuta.
The rails laid, the prisoners that
survived worked in the mines to
producethecoaltokeepthefactories
churningoutbombsandguns.
The soldiers and the factory
workers
are
honoured
now.
Surviving veterans are greeted by
the president every Victory Day,
afforded special privileges, given
medals. Its triumph in World War
Two has, if anything, become ever
more sacred to the country as the
years have passed. The role of the
prisoners in forging that victory has
been all but forgotten, however,
even though many of them had
committed no crime at all and
worked harder than anyone. They
were guilty only of being slightly
richer than their neighbours, or of
failingtojoinacollectivefarm,orof
telling a joke. Their torment is
largely unacknowledged in Russia
today.
Although Vladimir Putin in
2010, during his spell as prime
minister between his two stints as
president,
made The
Gulag
Archipelago compulsoryreadingfor
schoolchildrenintheireleventhyear,
he does not encourage modern
historianstodelveintothepast.The
K G B’s files are closed to all but a
chosenfew,andtherehasbeenlittle
acknowledgementoftheoppressors’
guilt from Russia’s new supposedly
democraticgovernment.
Asthetrainrattledalong,Ihada
strange feeling that the suffering