Harmonizing History: Indifference of the Masses
In a series of upcoming posts, I will explore the intersection of music and literature through the lens of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's The Gulag Archipelago. This literary masterpiece is a testament to the millions of individuals who endured harrowing experiences within the Soviet Gulag system during the mid-20th century.
As I read The Gulag Archipelago, I will craft a soundtrack to accompany my journey. This project has two aims:
To unravel the period of immense upheaval and turmoil that birthed The Gulag Archipelago. Drawing upon the artistry and political undertones of music, I strive to uncover insights into the lives of those who endured this era, offering a window into their experiences.
To further pursue my interest in classical music. By researching and immersing myself in music as I read, I plan to expand the boundaries of my musical comprehension and the connections it shares with history.
I will not place specific conditions on my musical selections. Instead, I will allow my instincts and emotions to guide me in selecting pieces as I read Solzhenitsyn's work. Expect various musical sources, from Soviet composers to traditional Russian folk music and even Western compositions.
Each carefully chosen musical piece will find its unique place in this project, selected for its historical significance, thematic relevance, or the profound emotions it evokes.
This project promises to be deeply rewarding. By combining literature and music, I aspire to enhance my understanding of the historical, political, and cultural significance conveyed within The Gulag Archipelago.
The Arrest
Solzhenitsyn begins The Gulag Archipelago by recounting his arrest in February 1945, vividly illustrating the Kafkaesque absurdity he and countless others endured. But the most disturbing aspect of Solzhenitsyn's arrest wasn't the actions of the security apparatus, known as "Soviet Security organs" or just "organs."
It was the indifference of the masses — "We submitted with pleasure."
The Gulag, the agency responsible for operating the forced labor camps established by Lenin and perpetuated under Stalin, became a symbol of repression scattered across society like a chain of isolated islands extending "from the Bering Strait almost to the Bosporus."
Solzhenitsyn describes how people went about their lives as if nothing was happening while their friends, neighbors, and colleagues were plucked from society and consigned to the depths of the gulags. Even the victims, trapped in the clutches of the organ, succumbed without protest, clinging to a misguided hope that their compliance might secure a favorable outcome.
Of this, Solzhenitsyn wrote:
For several decades political arrests were distinguished in our country precisely by the fact that people were guilty of nothing and were therefore unprepared to put up any resistance whatsoever. . . A person who is not inwardly prepared for the use of violence against him is always weaker than the person committing the violence.
This passage and others like it resonated profoundly and guided my selection of a musical composition that exudes beauty, even playfulness — a piece that could conceivably echo from the homes of those who turned a blind eye to the encroaching darkness.
After extensively exploring Apple Classical's catalog and immersive listening sessions, I narrowed my list to several choices and began digging into their histories. I ultimately settled on the Third Movement of Sergei Prokofiev's first numbered symphony, aptly christened "The Classical."
Sergei Prokofiev - The Bad Boy of Russian Music
Prokofiev, one of the most celebrated composers of the 20th century, escaped Russia during the revolution that brought the communists to power. His experimental and dissonant music clashed with the totalitarian regime's ideals, compelling him to seek refuge in America, where artistic freedom thrived.
However, several years later, Prokofiev, lured back to his homeland, faced a tragic fate. His work fell out of favor, and he lived in poverty in a small apartment off Red Square. When Prokofiev passed away on March 5th, 1953, the same day as Stalin, Moscow was paralyzed by the crowds bidding farewell to the dictator, leaving no musicians available to perform at the composer's funeral. His family had no choice but to play a recording of the funeral march from his ballet, Romeo and Juliet. (3).
Track 1: Sergei Prokofiev's Symphony №1 in D major, Op. 25, also known as the "Classical" — Third Movement
Although composed well before Solzhenitsyn's arrest, Prokofiev's first symphony emerged during a similarly turbulent time. In April 1917, Prokofiev left Petrograd for "some green spot" where he could "both work and walk." He discovered solace and tranquility on a farm nestled just beyond the city's limits:
"The main advantage was that the farm would provide delicious and wholesome food, whereas most dacha-dwellers from Petrograd were finding it literally hard to find anything at all to eat." (1).
It was here, nourished both in body and mind, that Prokofiev composed his inaugural symphony.
The Music
Prokofiev named his piece "The Classical" for a good reason. In it, he intentionally embraced the spirit of Mozartian classicism, deviating from the emotionally charged and sprawling symphonies that were en vogue at the time.
My true friends will see that the style of my symphony is precisely Mozartian classicism and will value it accordingly, while the public will no doubt just be content to hear happy and uncomplicated music which it will, of course, applaud.
The symphony is traditional in form, with four movements. Spanning a mere 16 minutes in its entirety, my chosen selection, the third movement, is the briefest, lasting just over a minute and a half. I deliberately chose a short piece to represent the fleeting time between arrest and the harsh realities of the Gulag. In that window, the apprehended spun positive narratives to convince themselves that everything would be alright — "It's a mistake… They'll set things straight and let me out!"
While Mozart might have written a minuet for the third movement, Prokofiev opted for a spirited French dance known as a gavotte, "which is typically in a 4/4 meter and begins with two prominent upbeats." (1.).
The entire symphony is cheerful, almost satirical. Author Harlow Robinson said:
The third-movement Gavotte, a charmingly clumsy dance with grotesquely comic grace-notes in the bassoon part and ungainly octave leaps in the melody, lasts barely more than a minute. This movement, so reminiscent of the small solo piano pieces that first made Prokofiev’s reputation as the “bad boy of Russian music,” was actually the first of the four to be written, and seems to have set the joking, tongue-in-cheek tone for the whole composition.
The composition's whimsical, almost silly nature aligns perfectly with my vision for an opening to the musical accompaniment to The Gulag Archipelago. Its excessive joy seemed fitting in a world where everyone feigned optimism, hoping against hope — "Maybe it will all blow over."
The History
While the symphony is playful and light-hearted, serious changes lurked in the background. Prokofiev began composing his Symphony №1 in 1916 and completed it in 1917, just as the Russian Revolution unfolded.
In February 1917, the Romanov dynasty fell, giving way to a weak Provisional Government. Subsequently, Lenin and the Bolsheviks seized power, ushering in the world’s first socialist state. A violent civil war followed, plunging the country into chaos and prompting the exodus of numerous members of the artistic intelligentsia, including Prokofiev.
— Harlow Robinson
Between Prokofiev's completion of his inaugural symphony in 1917 and Solzhenitsyn's arrest in 1945, the Gulag system spread across the vast expanse of the Soviet Union:
In sheer size this nonrecurring tidal wave swelled beyond the bounds of anything the penal system of even an immense state can permit itself. There was nothing to be compared with it in all Russian history.
The consensus among scholars estimates that between 1930 and 1953, approximately 1.5 to 1.7 million prisoners perished in the Gulag camps, and that's to say nothing of the many millions who suffered, leaving an indelible mark on the nation's history. Memoir sources lead to even higher estimates. The shocking scale of the Gulag system sets the stage for Solzhenitsyn's chilling account of the atrocities that unfolded within its confines.
As I continue to explore the depths of Solzhenitsyn's monumental work, I invite you to join me. Together, we will deepen our understanding of the historical, political, and cultural significance conveyed within The Gulag Archipelago.
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