Harmonizing History: Teetering Democracy
Note: This is Part VI of a series in which I’m curating a soundtrack to accompany my reading of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s “The Gulag Archipelago.” For background information about the project, please read Part I. Here, you can find Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V. You can also access an Apple Music playlist of the soundtrack here (music will be added as installments are released).
The Gulag Archipelago is hard to read. The emotional weight of its accounts of oppression, unfamiliar Russian terminology, and the uncomfortable self-reflection it provokes make progress sluggish. But most disturbingly, the book reveals unsettling parallels between the Soviet system and the fragility of American democracy.
Stripping of Human Dignity
These glimpses emerged at times during my reading, but one passage hit especially hard. Solzhenitsyn detailed the process of transferring Gulag prisoners by rail, including stripping and searching inmates before transport.
“Sit down.”
“On your knees.”
“Strip.”
The orders barked at prisoners came without “one word in an ordinary human voice.” Although desensitized by hundreds of similar testimonies in the book, I was shaken by Solzhenitsyn’s description of the psychological impact of forced nudity:
“After all, a naked person loses his self-assurance. He cannot straighten up proudly and speak as equal to people who are still clothed.”
I was immediately reminded of the Abu Ghraib prison scandal. After the 2003 Iraq invasion, the infamous prison used by Saddam Hussein fell under U.S. control. In 2004, horrific photos emerged showing detainees stacked naked in piles, physically and mentally tormented, and posed in degrading positions.
The parallels were undeniable — the power imbalance, humiliation tactics, and willful deprivation of human dignity. More than just embarrassing, coerced nakedness reinforces the imbalance of power. As Solzhenitsyn described, stripped prisoners could not stand proudly but cowered in shame.
Research shows that forced nudity induces a primal panic, deep vulnerability, and loss of agency. Violated prisoners lose the confidence to make direct eye contact, stand tall, or speak assertively. One party stays clothed and in control, the other stripped bare and subordinate. Such humiliation and submission were the aims of both the Soviet guards and the abusive American soldiers.
The Abu Ghraib abuses emerged near the end of my senior year, just before I began military training in ROTC. As an idealistic and patriotic young American, I readily accepted the claim that this was the work of a few “bad apples” whose actions, in President Bush’s words, “dishonored our country and disregarded our values.” This narrative was false. It was one of many misleading statements told in the aftermath of September 11th to maintain support for the war.
However, I don’t believe American democracy is crumbling; we’ve always been teetering unsteadily. Slavery, WWII internment camps, political assassinations, unconstitutional pandemic mandates, media/government partnership to stifle dissent — constant tension between freedom and oppression exists.
Untidy Freedom
Donald Rumsfeld dismissively described the Abu Ghraib abuses as freedom being “untidy,” declaring “free people commit crimes and do bad things.” However, as Pope John Paul II cautioned, “Freedom consists not in doing what we like, but in having the right to do what we ought.” Accepting Rumsfeld’s notion of “untidy freedom” jeopardizes liberty and justice for all.
Whether isolated or systemic, the dehumanization at Abu Ghraib must warn that oppression can take root anywhere if unchecked. As Solzhenitsyn exposed in detail, no society has immunity simply because it claims higher ideals. We must remain vigilant; it can happen here.
Seeking Uplift: Copland’s “Appalachian Spring”
After reflecting on such disheartening events, I sought comfort in Aaron Copland’s uplifting Appalachia Spring. This quintessentially American ballet evokes the optimism and energy of our pioneering spirit through its Shaker hymns and folk melodies. Its spirit of hope resonated as the perfect selection for my soundtrack to The Gulag Archipelago.
Premiering at the height of Copland’s fame, Appalachian Spring juxtaposes grand harmonies with an intimate, rustic mood, creating a unique yet accessible American sound that resonated deeply, earning Copland the 1945 Pulitzer Prize.
The opening, “Very Slowly,” introduces a Shaker melody on strings, symbolizing the daybreak and dawn of a new era. Sunrise motifs continue in the lively “Allegro” as the community awakens to a day of industrious labor. A romantic duet in “The Bride and Her Intended” gives way to the warm, expansive “Quasi menuetto,” welcoming the couple into the hopeful community.
The innocent, playful “Dance of the Bride” returns to introspective shades through lively dance themes. This contrasts with the triumphant, grand treatment of the Shaker hymn in “Meno Mosso,” celebrating the stunning American landscape. After a spirited allegro, the work concludes with “Coda,” reprising the opening Shaker melody in tranquil acceptance, with faith in new beginnings.
Hope and Optimism
Copland captured the beauty of America’s landscapes and the free spirit of its people in Appalachian Spring — ideals worth safeguarding.
The darkness exposed by Solzhenitsyn and the abuses at Abu Ghraib represents the human tendency toward oppression. But I remain hopeful. For all its flaws, the American experiment is resilient and strong enough to stand the tests of history. But we must nurture our ideals of liberty, human dignity, and justice.
There will always be those who seek power by dehumanizing others. But I can envision a just society, where none stand naked and ashamed before an oppressor. Where injustice lurks, we must expose it. Our freedom depends on it. The future is uncertain, but I remain optimistic like the hopeful pioneers in Copland’s Appalachian Spring.
