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9. The Freeing of Twentyland

Now at last Twentyland seemed to stand on the shores of a sea of freedom and happiness, but instead a grey era began. Elections were held, but on the Soviet model: although there were in theory three parties – the Communist Party, the Peasants’ Party, and the Dubitanian Social Democrats – there was only one list of candidates. My father found himself prevented from standing or campaigning in his own interest. Tretchin the puppet was instead made Prime Minster, under the close supervision of the Russians. My father was offered a largely honorary post as the President of the Council of Twenty, the largely decorative body which in principle advised on matters of constitutional or national import – it consisted of survivors of the original Twenty with some new nominees to make up the score. He bore this for a while with good patience, and then one day he called all the leading officials and party members together and had a quiet conversation.

After that, the Russians found that they were being politely ignored. Everyone listened to them with great, perhaps even exaggerated respect, but took no notice at all of anything they said. There was no defiance, and no outward rebellion; but everything the Russians initiated or sponsored seemed to run into difficulty and delay. This might have been the result of chaotic incompetence and mismanagement – there was plenty of that – but at the same time a number of policies the Russians actively opposed seemed to be in the process of effective implementation. There was a de facto deregulation of trade in food: the introduction of Russian into the school curriculum stalled and went into reverse After a while, Colonel Ostrovsky raised the matter with my father.

“You know,” said my father, “These matters are really outside my remit, Comrade: I have no executive powers. It seems to me you are concerned with the implementation of policy here, not a matter of national ideology. You should address your concerns to Comrade Tretchin – I should not like him to get the impression I was going behind his back.”

“Of course, of course,” said Ostrovsky, “But you see, Comrade Larvartin, I feel that this is not simply a matter of implementation: on the contrary, it seems as if a different set of policies is in effect being promulgated. Don’t you feel that there is a gap between the line we discussed in the Council of Twenty and what is actually happening in Twentyland? Do you feel that the country is actually responding to the advice it is being given?”

“I should be very sorry if you felt in any way that your advice was not valued, Comrade Ostrovsky,” he said, smiling, “But you must appreciate that the citizens and administrators of Twentyland have to take account of local conditions in a way which our valiant allies may not always understand.”

Ostrovsky pursed his lips for a moment.

“Let me be clear about this, comrade,” he said, “I am being advised that there is an orchestrated policy at work here, a policy, not of non-co-operation, not of national deviation exactly, I cannot say that, but let us say of incomplete realisation of the practical consequences of our joint commitment to the international brotherhood of socialist states. I don’t say that is in fact the case, but it’s suggested by the advice I am receiving. Now you must remember that your country was greatly helped to establish itself in freedom and democracy by the friendly support which Comrade Stalin gave to the heroes of Twentyland. If it should appear that certain elements – perhaps even certain high-ranking elements – did not altogether reciprocate that friendly support, well, then it might become necessary for us to consider whether the Twentyland regime would benefit from certain changes. You know, comrade, that certain countries, when liberated from Nazi tyranny, proved to need more direct help than others. If it were thought that Twentyland needed it, there can be no doubt that my superiors would be ready to provide very direct help. Very direct indeed, let there be no doubt of that., It can scarcely be thought that we should allow ourselves to be held back by lack of support from any group or individual, however popular.”

“You seem so tense, Ostrovsky,” my father replied, “I think you need a break. You should spend some time with your family. At home.”

Under my father’s guidance the Council of Twenty remained loyal supporters of Soviet foreign policy, of Cominform and the other institutions, and generally did nothing that the Russians could take real exception to. But Twentyland continued to steer its own course which quietly diverged in small ways from the prescribed model. Red Army soldiers began to receive small gifts from Twentylanders, always accompanied by a card which thanked them for their fraternal assistance, and wished them well on their return to their homeland.

My mother, in relating her stories, always represented my father’s handling of these matters as uniquely skilful, but for once I don’t agree. I hardly think his policy could have succeeded if Twentyland had been of strategic importance, or otherwise of special value to the Soviet authorities. Our armed forces were still far too weak to offer the slightest deterrent to the Russians had direct intervention been undertaken. I’m afraid the plain truth is that we simply weren’t important enough for the Russians to bother too much about us. My father, if my mother is to be believed, also played an extremely dangerous game of counter-espionage, trying to arouse Stalin’s suspicions of the leading Russian officers. I could never get any details of this, but it seems to me an uncharacteristically devious strategy; one which could very easily have backfired, or perhaps on the other hand have caused the disgrace or death of essentially blameless men like Ostrovsky, who were basically well-disposed towards my father and went along with him to some degree.

It goes without saying that in Mischkoff’s account there was never the slightest divergence of view between my father and the Russian authorities; indeed, in his biography my father appears almost servile in his closeness to Comrade Stalin. Mischkoff relates an entirely fictitious episode in which my father is supposed to have reminded Tretchin of the fine example of resolution shown by the Russian leader and thereby persuaded him to continue with a programme of agricultural reform and collectivisation.

It is true, however, that before too long Stalin withdrew his troops from Twentyland. It seems that Ostrovsky complained of my father’s uncooperative behaviour: Stalin, however, remembered my father as a hero of patriotic resistance during the war, and reacted badly. He suspected that my father was, as he felt himself to be, surrounded by potential traitors: instead of supplying the additional authority Ostrovsky was seeking, he summarily ordered him to withdraw. When Stalin died and Khrushchev took power, Twentylanders feared for a while that the Russians might return, but they never did, and if anything Khrushchev seemed even more well-disposed towards my father than Stalin had been . At last, at last, we were masters of our own destiny.

26,273 words.