ERNEST AMETISTOV IS WITH US
The weather this September is as fine as it was last year. Then, the warm autumn sun shone down on us as we stood at the edge of the open grave. The coffin of someone we loved and respected was about to be lowered into it.
It seemed to me at the time that forty-five years had been torn out of my life. Forty-five years of the most cherished friendship of my life. Of course, all the appropriate words were said then. Those who spoke at the graveside said we would keep his memory alive until our dying day and that his cause would live on.
Today, a year later, we know that those words were not spoken in vain. It could not have be otherwise, not in the case of a man such as he.
I must admit that when I was asked to write about my friend for a newspaper, I was somewhat at a loss. Not because I had nothing to say, but because there was so much to say. And so, I decided to speak of three episodes in the life of Ernest Ametistov.
1. The Case of L., a member of the Young Communist League
Many of my generation look back on 1957 as a year when we were all a bit high. Alcohol had nothing to do with this, although, frankly speaking, we were far from being ascetic. We, students of the Moscow University Law School, were as exhilarated as everyone else by two things: firstly, by the half-truths Nikita Khrushchev had proclaimed from the podium of the 20th Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, and, secondly, by the forthcoming Moscow International Youth Festival.
We were so naive! We felt that now, at last, the harsh restrictions of the totalitarian regime were about to vanish. There were even a few promising signs: we were permitted, and even encouraged (unbelievable!) to correspond with our peers in other countries. Naturally, not with those (God forbid!) who lived in the vile lands of capitalism, but with our friends in "the camp of peace and democracy". A lot of us became euphoric. However, euphoria in a nation where democracy is unknown is a risky thing. A fellow-student of ours, whom I shall call L., wrote a frank letter to a student from the then German Democratic Republic, the westernmost nation of the socialist camp. The fellow he wrote to turned out to be a good young communist and forwarded L.'s letter to the Central Committee of the Young Communist League in Moscow.
Today, both supporters and opponents of socialism would find L.'s views laughable. But, at the time, it was no laughing matter to the minor functionaries of the YCL Bureau at Moscow University. A lack of a sense of humor was a professional quality of these people.
L.'s letter was brought directly to the top YCL boss. It read, in part: "I, personally, prefer the Yugoslav way of development, plus anarchism". Considering the situation in Serbia today, this phrase is striking. That is exactly how it was perceived at the time. A resolution passed by the University YCL Bureau called for L.'s expulsion from the YCL. This meant he would automatically be expelled from the University.
I am truly ashamed of my generation, for most of my fellow-students considered such a measure to be harsh, but just: sedition was to be eradicated, even though everyone was sorry for L., the culprit. Still, not everyone agreed with the communists' "disciplinary action". Ten of us dared to stand up for L. at a meeting of the University YCL organization. Later, we were accused of many things, one of which was the formation of an anti-socialist organization. In reality, such a thing had never entered our minds, for although the ten of us defended L. at the meeting, we were speaking from many points of view.
When I took the floor, knowing that it was impossible to make our opponents change their minds, I said that L. had written that unfortunate phrase thoughtlessly. "Please consider the fact that he has never read the works of Kropotkin or Cardell (Tito's ideologist). In any case, he's no supporter of capitalism."
Then Ernest took the floor: "What are we arguing about? What has socialism, capitalism or anything else to do with this? Politics is not the point here. What is important is a moral evaluation of what's happened. It's wrong to read other people's letters. It's wrong to listen to informers."
His words were like a bombshell. The mini-functionaries looked confused. Ernest's words made most of the students in the hall take a closer look both at the topic under discussion and at themselves. From then on, speeches castigating L. alternated with words spoken in his defense. Since acquittal was out of the question, a vote was taken on whether to expel L. from the YCL, or whether to simply reprimand him. Our side won by two votes paying no attention to the wails of our YCL leaders.
The following day, their wails were nothing as compared to a general's roar (the rector of the University at the time was a KGB general). Communist "democratic centralism" presenting itself in all its glory. The University YCL Bureau repudiated the previous day's vote and expelled L. from the YCL. Close on the heels of this came the dean's ruling: L. was also to be expelled from the University. Next, it was the turn of our opponents, who wasted no time in launching their attack against us. Everything was done in strict adherence to current political procedure. A letter signed by twenty students and demanding severe punishment for L.'s defenders was tacked to the door of every Law School lecture hall in the University. Some of the twenty who had signed the letter came up to me to imperceptibly shake my hand. Their palms felt sticky. I told Ernest about this, and he said: "Wash your hands. And next time, don't shake their hands."
Our group did not choose its leader, but our foes (they deserve credit for their insight) were quick to realize who this was. Yes, it was Ernest Ametistov. He struck them where they were most vulnerable. It was he who forced these morally corrupt people to face reality, at least in part. It was also because of him that the reputation of the University's YCL functionaries was ruined in the eyes of their bosses.
Today, I realize that only a miracle saved our group from being expelled from the YCL and from the University. This was a two-part miracle. Firstly, there was the approaching International Youth Festival and, secondly, there was the scandal at the School of Journalism which had broken out shortly before our scandalous meeting. The scandal at the School of Journalism ended with mass expulsions and was likewise presented as a political action. The authorities obviously felt that two scandals in one university was a bit too much.
However, with Ametistov as our leader, we were unrepentant. Nor did we repent when our friend L. betrayed us (that is why I do not wish to use his name). When he realized that his future would be ruined, he lied, saying that we wanted him to repent. Our persecutors were overjoyed. They then accused us of holding political gatherings, of playing a double game, and of many other political infractions.
Thus, we were once again shown that true communist morality meant informing on your friends and then renouncing them, while, according to this same morality, standing up for a friend was considered to be a grave crime.
I saw Ernest ten days before he died. That was when he told me, half in jest, that L.'s. case was his first practical experience as a defender of human rights. "But L. was not worthy of your efforts," I said, to which Ernest replied: "I didn't mean him. I meant us."
This Tragedy Should Never be Forgotten
A lot has already been said and written about Ernest Ametistov's work during the first post-perestroika years as a human rights activist in the Memorial Association, a human rights organization that is concerned with gathering information about millions of people who had perished in Gulag during Stalin's repression. That is why I will be brief.
Liudmila Alexeyeva, a prominent human rights activist whom I interviewed after her return to Russia from forced emigration, said that she was happy to learn that activity in defense of human rights had now been legalized. She was convinced that this had been made possible because Ernest Ametistov had joined the Memorial forces, becoming one of the foremost figures of the human rights movement in Russia.
I regret that to the many who read Ametistov's articles or heard him speak on human rights and the rehabilitation in civil rights of the victims of political repression, his deep personal feelings and emotions were not always obvious. But I want them to know that Ernest took to heart each life that was maimed by Stalinism. In private conversations it was clear that words on this subject did not come easy to him, no matter that he was a man of letters and a great public speaker.
He provided a deep analysis of the origins of the terrible tragedy of our nation and was distressed by the forgetfulness of the people, for this opened the door to all sorts of speculation. "Do you really think there are people foolish enough to believe the communist leader Gennady Zyuganov when he says that there was no political repression in Soviet times?" I asked Ernest. He replied: "Of course there are fools like that. But don't forget, a significant part of the population was born after those terrible times ended."
I find it disturbing to see that a large segment of Russia's democratic press has come to regard the Gulag and Stalinism as exhausted subjects, especially at a time when propaganda churned out by the various communist/nationalist forces is to be found everywhere.
Ernest used all possible means to preserve the memory of those tragic events. After his death, when his wife, Olga Zimenkova-Ametistova, and I were going through the newspaper clippings of his articles it occurred to me that if they were published as a book it would be an unforgettable reminder of Stalinist times.
Ernest was uncompromising, and all the more so when Stalin's deeds were concerned. He was once asked to review a play in which Stalin was the villain and the oppositionists who plotted against him failed. This was too much for Ernest, who had been studying scores of political cases relating to the Stalinist period and was well aware of the actual situation in the country at the time. I had always known him to be a cheerful though reserved man, but he was furious when he spoke to me over the phone about the play: "It's all a big lie! All those people, no matter how Stalin treated them, remained loyal to their 'leader and teacher'. The real truth about Stalinism is more horrible than any lie."
October 1993 A Dissenting Opinion
Someone shouted: "Ametistov!" He turned and saw a group of about 10 men in uniform. These were some of the paramilitary rabble that were converging that October on Moscow from all parts of Russia and the former Soviet Union. This particular group belonged to the Dnestr Battalion, a commune-nationalist formation responsible for the armed clashes in Moldavia in 1992.
Ernest was a member of the Constitutional Court. He openly opposed the politicized opinion of the Court which unlawfully declared President Yeltsin's decree "On gradual constitutional reform in the Russian Federation" unconstitutional and thus gave support to the commune-nationalist opposition.
Ernest Ametistov disagreed with the majority of the members of the Constitutional Court and wrote a dissenting opinion, making public the Court's unlawful action and urging it to be a guarantor of civil peace in the country. As in the case of L. during his student years Ernest's presentation of the facts was non-political. He called for lawful, not unlawful, action, making those who would have communism restored regard him as a dangerous foe.
Ernest's encounter with the Dnestr Battalion men that day could have turned ugly, but his courage and a professional ability to sum up an audience and contain it prompted him (those who knew him will be surprised) to hold them off with foul language. The men's attention was further diverted by the sounds of the first shots that were fired on that fateful day. The mercenaries retreated.
Truly, people have a short collective memory. One can often hear people, who otherwise seem to be sensible, speak of Parliament having been "executed". None of them cares to remember that not a single member of Parliament was hurt. Those who were wounded or killed were armed mercenaries and curious bystanders caught in the mercenaries' line of fire.
Who now recalls that these armed men had thrown children and elderly people off the buses they commandeered to take them to the TV Center? Who now recalls the truck that rammed into the TV Center building, or the young soldier who was guarding the building and whose head was torn off by a shell fragment?
When Ernest heard a so-called patriot, a man who, in reality, was a commune-nationalist, lament the death of those who had come to the TV Center with supposedly peaceful intentions on October 3, 1993, he said: "I'd like him to repeat his words in the presence of that soldier's mother."
Years later at a press conference I sat near Professor Lazarev, an old friend from law school. When we heard someone mention "dissenting opinion", we both smiled and exchanged glances, for this had always been Ernest's favorite tactic. In fact, he was called "Justice Dissenter" for so frequently disagreeing with majority opinions. Moreover, his dissenting opinions were always more logically and legally substantiated than the rulings of his colleagues in the Constitutional Court. He was the first Justice of the Constitutional Court to come forward with dissenting opinions.
In 1992 the Court, which was established in 1991, was considering one of its first cases, that of a referendum to be held in Tatarstan, one of the largest autonomous republics of the Russian Federation. The main question to be decided by the referendum was whether or not Tatarstan should become an independent state. The opinion of the Court was that it would be unconstitutional to hold such a referendum. Ernest Ametistov wrote a dissenting opinion, holding that the question being posed in the referendum did not imply the withdrawal of Tatarstan from the Russian Federation, nor was it counter to the Constitution of the Russian Federation. In the end the decision of the Court was not carried out and the referendum did take place. As a result Tatarstan remained a member of the Russian Federation and everyone seemed to forget about the decision of the Constitutional Court.
In January 1995, Ametistov denounced the bloodshed in Chechnya. At a press conference at the time he said that "no constitution is worth human lives". In the summer of 1995, as the Constitutional Court was considering the case of Chechnya, he once again wrote a dissenting opinion assuming that the Court was not authorized to consider the decision of the RF Government and the President's Decree on the deployment of troops in Chechnya, since the decision and the decree were not normative documents and, thus, could not be considered by the Court.
Now, on this sunny September day of 1999, we have again come together in the cemetery. A beautiful stone cross marks his grave. It was erected through the joint efforts of his wife and friends. But there is another monument to Ernest which is as important as the first: his circle of friends, which has become stronger in the ensuing year, for we have come to know each other better and we have come to truly respect one another.
There is still another monument to Ernest, one that was made possible by his friends and colleagues: The Ametistov Fund, the Center for the Protection of Human Rights. The Fund's main goal is mass public education in the area of human rights. Ernest Ametistov dreamed about a center such as this.
Ernest Ametistov is with us. He will live on even after the last person who knew him is gone. We will make sure that this is so.
Yury Nekrasov
A member of Advisory Committee of
Ernest Ametistov Human Rights Foundation
