IN the CAPTIVITY of the MATRIX on the Boundary of Two Worlds: Identity, Freedom, and Moral Imagination in the Baltics 38

IN THE CAPTIVITY OF THE MATRIX On the Boundary of Two Worlds: Identity, Freedom, and Moral Imagination in the Baltics 38

Founding Editor: Leonidas Donskis, Professor and Vice-President for Research at ISM University of Management and Economics, Lithuania.

Associate Editor Martyn Housden, University of Bradford, UK

Editorial and Advisory Board

Timo Airaksinen, University of Helsinki, Finland Egidijus Aleksandravicius, Lithuanian Emigration Institute, Vytautas Magnus University, Kaunas, Lithuania Aukse Balcytiene, Vytautas Magnus University, Kaunas, Lithuania Stefano Bianchini, University of Bologna, Forlì Campus, Italy Endre Bojtar, Institute of Literary Studies, Budapest, Hungary Ineta Dabasinskiene, Vytautas Magnus University, Lithuania Pietro U. Dini, University of Pisa, Italy Robert Ginsberg, Pennsylvania State University, USA Andres Kasekamp, University of Tartu, Estonia Andreas Lawaty, Nordost-Institute, Lüneburg, Germany Olli Loukola, University of Helsinki, Finland Bernard Marchadier, Institut d’études slaves, Paris, France Silviu Miloiu, Valahia University, Targoviste, Romania Valdis Muktupavels, University of Latvia, Riga, Latvia Hannu Niemi, University of Helsinki, Finland Irina Novikova, University of Latvia, Riga, Latvia Yves Plasseraud, Paris, France Rein Raud, Tallinn University, Estonia Alfred Erich Senn, University of Wisconsin-Madison, USA, and Vytautas Magnus University, Kaunas, Lithuania André Skogström-Filler, University Paris VIII-Saint-Denis, France David Smith, University of Glasgow, UK Saulius Suziedelis, Millersville University, USA Joachim Tauber, Nordost-Institut, Lüneburg, Germany Tomas Venclova, Yale University, USA Tonu Viik, Tallinn University, Estonia In the Captivity of the Matrix Soviet Lithuanian Historiography, 1944–1985

AURIMAS ŠVEDAS

Amsterdam – New York, NY 2014 Cover illustration: The Library Courtyard of Vilnius University in 1979, the 400th anniversary of the founding of the university. Photo by Vidas Naujikas.

Translator Albina Strunga Layout Tomas Mrazauskas

The paper on which this book is printed meets the requirements of “ISO 9706:1994, Information and documentation - Paper for documents - Requirements for permanence”.

ISBN: 978-90-420-3911-7 E-Book ISBN: 978-94-012-1193-2 © Editions Rodopi B.V., Amsterdam - New York, NY 2014 Printed in the Netherlands CONTENTS

Acknowledgements vii Introduction 1 Historiography 5

PROLOGUE What Forms had Lithuanian Historiography Taken on Prior to the Soviet Occupation? 13

CHAPTER 1 Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 23 External Characteristics 25 Internal Characteristics 40

CHAPTER 2 Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 59 Position: Factors that Formed the Discourse 62 Opposition I: The Challenge Posed by the Older Generation of Historians (“Lost in Time and Space”) 76 Opposition II: The Stance Taken by the “Ideologically Oriented Humanists” 87 Opposition III: “An Outsider” Who Wanted to do Small but Good Deeds in History 97 The Search for Turning-Points in the Evolution of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography: 1956 (?) 104

CHAPTER 3 Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 115 Historians’ Behaviour Models and the Official Discourse 117 Scholars’ Attempts at Correcting the Official Discourse 123 “Janus” Challenges the Community of Historians and the Official Version of the Past 129 Tensions in the Historians’ Community in the 1970s–1980s 145 CHAPTER 4 “Syntheses of History”: Expression of the Official Discourse and the Search for Alternatives 155 The Periodization Model in Soviet-Era Syntheses of Lithuanian History 157 The Spatial Model in Soviet-Era Syntheses of Lithuanian History 177 The Search for Alternative Periodizations and Spatial Models 183

CHAPTER 5 Alternatives to the Official Discourse in Research on Feudalism 197 Features of Research on the Rise of Serfdom in Lithuania 199 The “Latently Operating Paradigm” in Research on Early Grand Duchy of Lithuanian Society 209

Conclusions 217

EPILOGUE A Glance at Post-Soviet Lithuanian Historiography 223

Endnotes 233 References 259 Index 277 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

When looking back on the road travelled, one appreciates not just the distance covered, but also those who accompanied and helped one make the journey possible. Many friends and colleagues offered me their invaluable assistance during preparation of the Lithuanian and English language versions of the book, reading the drafts, sharing their ideas and expressing their valuable advice. In this respect, I would first of all like to thank Alfredas Bumblauskas, Sigitas Jegelevičius, Rasa Čepaitienė, Antanas Kulakauskas and Šarūnas Liekis. I am indebted to them, but they are not in any way responsible for any of my errors. Besides these people, the entire Vilnius University Faculty of History community deserves a separate mention whose support was felt throughout the time spent researching Lithuanian historiography from the Soviet period. I would also like to express my enormous gratitude to the Research Council of Lithuania, as it is their National Development Programme for Lithuanian studies 2009–2015 which financed the book’s translation, making it accessi- ble to English readers. My sincere thanks also goes to the book’s translator and language editor, Albina Strunga, who worked tirelessly on this project and whose help I could always count on, having found myself in the typically difficult situation of having to transform a Lithuanian text into English. I am also grateful to the talented designer of the book, Tomas Mrazauskas, who did an excellent job stylistically expressing the particularities of the So- viet science matrix. The whole Rodopi publishing house went to great effort to ensure the manuscript of In the Captivity of the Matrix: Soviet Lithuanian Historiogra- phy, 1944–1985 could be released as a book. Many thanks also extend to Eric van Broekhuizen and Leonidas Donskis for including my book in their distinguished series. In writing any book, the sacrifices of one’s closest family are always required, which is why I would like to sincerely thank my parents, wife and daughter for their patience and understanding which enveloped me as I worked on both the Lithuanian and English versions of this text.

INTRODUCTION

What’s this book about? Before sitting down to write about Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography, I recalled the dark cyberpunk film and the following phrase, “What is the Matrix? It is control”. This particular association stayed with me for a number of years. We can look at The Matrix trilogy as paraphrasing a totalitarian society, surprising us with its accurate insights and unexpected analogies with the history of the Soviet Union. The communist control mechanism that operated in the spheres of public and private life that hid behind a curtain of lies is in many ways reminiscent of the harrowing dystopia depicted in the film The Matrix about a machine-led imprisonment of the human mind. The “thawing” process that was put into motion in the years 1953–1956 by the CPSU elite prompts associations with the Architect’s decision to reload the Matrix in order to destroy all anomalies that opposed the system and threatened its existence, thus recreating the initial programme. The story line of an eventual revolution emerging from the multitude of unresolved problems which man- ages to establish a fragile peace between humans and machines can be likened to the fate of the totalitarian state: Russia turned down the path of democratic reforms, later returning to the “vertical scale of power” in the form of a new Matrix which ideologues offered to the masses. This book is about another, earlier version of the Matrix. It aims to un- veil the formation of the Soviet-era Lithuanian historiographical official discourse (from 1944 until 1985, when the last Soviet synthesis was published), to show how it was affected by the mechanisms that created it, and to discuss what kinds of behavioural models historians chose under the duress of this discourse, thereby answering the question of whether the resulting body of unified claims – texts on the history of Lithuania – offer any alternative cases of independent thinking. In order to realize the afore-mentioned aim of this book, the following questions (divided into five groups) are to be deliberated, which open the way to taking a phenomenological and axiological glance at Lithuanian historiography from the Soviet period: What place and role in the Soviet state’s social system had the Communist Party afforded the science of history? Which institutions formed the official historiographical discourse, which had to live up to the wishes of the Party elite and maintain its vitality? 2 Aurimas Švedas What are the characteristics of the general ideology and methodology of this official discourse that created the past and the thinking “masks” of the scientists who researched this past? What were the ideological and methodological “errors” made by Soviet-era historians that ended up bringing down the official discourse monolith? What figures, and which conjunctural or non-conformist actions, challenges and conflicts can be considered fateful in the evolution of Soviet-era historiography? Do the general schemes of political and socio-cultural development in the Soviet period and the turning-points therein apply to the science of history in Lithuania in 1944–1985? What are the most important features of the temporal and spatial models in syntheses of Lithuanian history that were released in the Soviet period? To what extent are these models based on logical thinking, and consistent and adequate in their expression of the details of the Lithuanian nation’s past? Were attempts made in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography to creatively apply the ideas of Marx and Engels? The answering of the questions listed above determined the structure of a prologue, epilogue and five chapters. The first chapter “Characteristics of- So viet-Era Lithuanian Historiography” gives a definition of the place and role of the science of history in the Soviet state and in Soviet society, discusses the total of institutions which formed the official discourse of the day and which ensured its vitality, denotes the particular principles which empowered historians to simulate reconstructions of Lithuania’s past, and offers a typology of some of the most important methodological and ideological “errors” which eroded the official discourse. Chapter Two, “Formation of the Official Historical Discourse” analyzes the strongest ideological and methodological tensions which arose in the community of historians in 1944–1956 as well as the ensuing critique campaigns, presenting the figures behind them and discussing the reasons that determined their effect. In the third chapter, “Processes within the Official discourse”, the post-Sta- linist period of 1957–1985 is discussed considering analogical aspects and the processes underway during this period. Chapter Four, “Syntheses of History”: Expression of the Official Discourse and the Search for Alternatives” gives an analysis of the general works on Lith- uanian history compiled by historians at the time, focusing mainly on two elements in these historical syntheses – temporal and spatial models. Along- side these texts which simultaneously reflected and falsified Lithuania’s history, there is also an analysis of the few attempts made by historians to search In the Captivity of the Matrix 3 for alternative depictions of Lithuania as a historical object under the constant influence of Russia, and alternatives to the economic formation change scheme which unified the historical reality. Chapter Five, “Alternatives to the Official Discourse in Research on Feu- dalism” analyzes cases of the creative application of the ideas of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography.

HISTORIOGRAPHY

Features of Soviet-era historians’ (auto)reflexion. Researchers of the past who lived through the Soviet period were not particularly aware of historical theory or methodology or the development of historiography. Nevertheless, one- off attempts at historiographical (auto)reflexion can be identified, which are classified into seven groups:

1. Articles that recorded the process of knowledge accumulation and increase in topics of research during the Soviet period, which are mostly limited to listing actual or imagined achievements in different fields of research.1 2. Attempts at conceptually thinking over the forms of Soviet-era historiography.2 3. Commissioned critical essays which were intended to expose the works of “bourgeois historians” (For more on the body of these texts, see pp. 47–48 in this book). 4. Texts in which battles against ideological and methodological “errors” and “heresies” in Soviet historiography were waged.3 5. Attempts at disclosing the actual problems and maladies existing in the science of history at the time.4 6. Texts devoted to the discussion and resolution of specific issues or reviews of research conducted on a particular epoch.5

The opinions of émigré historians. Lithuanian historians in trying to establish their relationship with Soviet historiography6 and discuss its nature often maintained two positions:

1. A predetermined critical, negative approach which blocked the potential of noting any positive aspects at all.7 2. A unique “good-will tactic” which allowed them to notice a particular variety in methodology, differences in opinion and cases of the presentation of new facts.8 Sometimes the same diaspora historian would uphold the first position in one article, and revert to the second position in a subsequent article. Often this kind of behaviour would be determined not by the inability of a certain scientist to settle on one approach, but the details of the historiographical phenomenon being analyzed in a specific text. 6 Aurimas Švedas

The efforts of Lithuanian historians after regaining independence. Reflexion on Soviet-era historiography to have been disclosed after 1990 is thus far quite meagre. Contemporary Lithuanian historiography gives us at least three models for the relationship of research of the Soviet past:

1. Attempts at conceptualization (Bumblauskas, Aleksandravičius, Ku- lakauskas).9 2. Empirical research (Ragauskas, Selenis, Vyšniauskas, Rudokas).10 3. (Auto)reflexions – recollections/assessments (Gaigalaitė, Jučas, Merkys, Eidintas, Savukynas, Tyla, Zaborskaitė, Gudavičius, Genzelis, Plečkaitis, Jege- levičius, Kubilius).11

The most important event to have taken place in the intellectual life of independent Lithuania in terms of assessing the Soviet-era historiographical legacy is the conference organized by the Vilnius University Faculty of His- tory on May 31–June 3, 1995 titled “Reading Zenonas Ivinskis ’95”, from which followed a book containing various announcements and discussions from the conference. The insights into Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography declared in this collection of articles remain very important to this day and in many cases determine the depiction of the situation of historians and humanities scientists in the Soviet period in the Lithuanian academic tradition.12 Also worthy of discussion are the articles and studies analyzing various socio-cultural and political Soviet-era Lithuanian history problems. First of all would be the few attempts at compiling syntheses which presented the general “background” for the research conducted for this book.13 An important body of texts covers the changes that took place in Lithuania in the 1950s (research on “thawing processes”) that were analyzed by various authors from different aspects (Puzinavičius, Streikus, Kubilius, Sprindytė, Ba- liutytė) and the attempts made at identifying how the modernist cultural-ar- tistic program was expressed in various socio-cultural environments in the 1960s–1980s (Lubytė, Kmita, Drėmaitė, Petrulis, Tutlytė).14 The latter studies create an important context for the search for turning-points in the development of Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography that is carried out in this book. Deliberation on the dynamics of the relations between the Soviet leadership and the community of scientists of the day would not be possible without the studies by members of the Lithuanian Communist Party nomenklatura (Ti- ninis, Antanaitis, Grybkauskas, Ivanauskas)15 or the analysis of the situation In the Captivity of the Matrix 7 and activities of intellectuals and culture workers conducted by an increasingly more active younger generation of historians (Klumbys, Šukys).16 The latter issues are closely related to the decisions made by the individual and society under occupation in choosing a path of conformation, collaboration or opposition that is being discussed in Lithuanian historiography (Girnius, Štromas, Putinaitė, Klumbys).17 In this context, worth mentioning are innovative attempts to define the qualitative characteristics of Lithuanian society of the early and late Soviet periods that determined the individual’s and society’s sense of well-being and their behavioural features (Vaiseta, Davoliūtė),18 as well as a interdisciplinary study where the authors (historians, political scientists and sociologists), using the network research method, constructed a model of the alternative society that existed in the late Soviet period, which later went on to inspire the inception of the Sąjūdis [national revival] movement.19 In the 21st century, Lithuanian historiography embarked on taking a closer look at the way history’s political mechanisms work and the formation of a collective historical memory, as well as issues of Lithuanian identity dynamics,20 and at the same time the first multi-disciplinary studies on the impact of traumatic experiences of the self-awareness of Lithuanian society in the So- viet period started being released.21 As part of the research being conducted in this book, important ideas are voiced in order to reconstruct the actions of the mechanisms that deformed our historical consciousness under Soviet rule (Streikus, Švedas)22 by examining the history of Soviet-era higher education institutions,23 analyzing the cultural heritage concepts that came about during this period (Čepaitienė),24 and by examining how ideology (including also historical subjects and symbols) was expressed during the process of sovietization of Lithuania’s larger cities.25 During the last decade, Lithuanian historiography has seen intensive research being conducted on the competition between and forms of co-existence of different types of memories in Lithuanian society in the 20th century, bringing to light certain “sites of memory” (the city of Vilnius and Vilnius University, the Battle of Grunwald, the 1863 uprising, etc.), and also raising the question: how were these “sites of memory” created or destroyed or how did they function in the Soviet period?26 In this context, studies on the forms of Lithuanian identity and their change throughout the inter-war, Soviet and post-Soviet periods are significant (Putinaitė).27 The types of competition and cooperation between the Communist Party and the academic and cultural community, and the results of the latter, are a topic of discussion for historians examining the rise of the national communist phenomenon. Examination of the latter phenomenon performing the analysis 8 Aurimas Švedas of the Lithuanian case in the West (Kemp)28 and in Lithuanian historiograhy29 is particularly important in order to understand the situation Lithuanian historiography found itself in under occupation conditions.

Studies on the post-Soviet space and research by Western historians. Historians spe- cializing in historiography from other countries hardly take an interest in the tradition of the science of history in the Lithuanian SSR (LSSR) or any specific works. That is why their reflexions on the Soviet historiography phenomenon should be divided firstly according to criteria judging their impact and benefit to this book.

1. The (auto)reflexions of Russian historians. Here we can distinguish the broadest deliberations on the types of Soviet Russian historiography that offered important meaningful contexts for the purposes of the research conducted for this book. When we talk about the attempts at (auto)reflexion by Russian historians from recent times, the first to be noted should be the collective study by 16 authors Soviet Historiography30 and the research on the post-Stalinist thawing period (Sidorova).31 The first study is of greater importance in this case, and the insights made by its compiler and author of the preface Jurij Afanasjev carry significant methodological value in forming the “internal” and “external” characteristics of Soviet Lithuanian historiography.32 Meanwhile Sidoro- va’s research is important in discussing the matter of 1956 as a turning-point. An important meaningful context for the research of this particular book is created by the field of history politics studies that has grown popular in 21st-century Russia, which encompasses the Soviet period as well.33

2. The historiographical research of our closest neighbours in the post-So- viet space. When searching for analogues (in order to better understand the problems analyzed in this book), the reconstruction of the development of So- viet historiography in Belarus, Ukraine and Latvia was also important, not to mention discussion of the general features of the “sub-species” of this type of historiography in different Soviet republics. In this respect, of special value is the reconstruction of the spread of Belarusians’ historical memory in the 19th–20th century by Rainer Lindner, where much attention was devoted to the Soviet period.34 Aleh Dziarnovich is another author who has offered important insights on Belarusian historiography in the Soviet period as well.35 Another study worth mentioning is on the sovietization process of the science of Ukrainian history and the evolution of the Soviet academic tradition In the Captivity of the Matrix 9 (Portnov, Masliichuk)36 and one on the creation of how Russian–Ukrainian relations have been depicted in the Soviet historic imagination (Yekelchyk).37 The attempts to take an in-depth view of how the Soviet historiographical tradition has been formed in contemporary Latvian historiography (Ivanovs) and the outcomes of this process have also played an important context-setting role.38

3. The (auto)reflexions of Polish historiographers.39 First to be mentioned is the conceptual study by Gwidon Zalejko,40 where the Soviet historiography paradigm was examined which made it possible to create an analogous analysis framework using “Lithuanian material”. In this context, the works of another two Polish historians – Rafał Stobiecki and Andrzej Grabski – are worthy of attention as they examine the peculiarities of applying the Soviet history model in the Polish tradition, from both a systemic and historical respect.41 Important insights have also been formulated in a collection of articles by Polish historians, titled Klio Polska, where the authors not only discussed the types of official Soviet historical discourses, but also localized the theoretical or methodological alternatives to Marxism-Leninism that matured in the Soviet period.42 These works and the ideas they contained became important partners in discussions-by-correspondence for this book’s author when studying Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography in depth.

4. Westerners’ attitudes to Soviet historiography. It is not just Westerners who seem to ignore the Lithuanian science of history as it was during the So- viet period43 – in Lithuania as well no attempts have been made to reflect on or at least present articles that analyze the Soviet historiography phenomenon.44 In this respect, three works by Western historiographers and one collection of texts can be mentioned as being the most representative (of Soviet historiography as an area of research). They contain analyses of the theoretical, methodological and ideological features of the Marxist-Leninist tradition of researching the past, and discuss this tradition in relation to political conjuncture. Three of these texts appeared in the Soviet period,45 whereas the author of the latest work, Roger Markwick, had the opportunity to not restrict himself only to Soviet historians’ texts and could engage with archival documents and apply the interview method, which markedly expanded this scientist’s familiarization potential whilst researching Soviet-era historiography in the period from 1957 to 1977.46 As with Russian, so too with Western historiography, in the late 20th–early 21st century, Soviet history policies that created Soviet ideology and mythology 10 Aurimas Švedas started being intensively researched, along with the impact of these policies on the science of history, on reconstructions of the past that were unveiled in the arts, and on public life and the historical memory of the Soviet social environment. These bodies of research are also important for analyzing Sovi- et-era Lithuanian historiography.47

Historiography as a methodological and theoretical basis for research. From the corpus of articles, monographs and collective studies dedicated to analyzing Soviet-era historiography, there are some texts which need to be distinguished from the rest. For the purposes of this book, the methodological guidelines for researching Soviet historiography that were formulated by Al- fredas Bumblauskas and Gwidon Zalejko, and their suggested ideas, proved to be particularly significant. Bumblauskas broached a new step in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiographical research asking whether Marxism, as an entirety of specific theoretical and methodological approaches, could actually offer anything meaningful to the knowledge-accumulation process.48 The conceptual basis of this question lies in the theory of historiographical paradigm change conceived by German history theoretician Jörn Rüsen.49 This particular theory prompted Bumblauskas to typologize the varieties of Marxism that came into being in the totalitarian space (distinguishing futurist Leninism-Stalinism, Communist pragmatism and anti-Communist Marxism), and to search for expressions of anti-Com- munist Marxism (or Marxism in the “narrow sense”) in works by Soviet-era researchers of the past. This question remained open and provoked further research. The latter circumstance is what prompted this book’s author to independently set off on the search for Marxism in the “narrow sense”, checking the validity of Bumblauskas’ hypotheses (see pp. 199–215). As was mentioned earlier, Gwidon Zalejko’s study The Marxist Historical Research Paradigm also opened up new analysis perspectives for the author of this book. When formulating his insights, Bumblauskas rested on Rüsen’s paradigm change theory for research on the past, while Zalejko’s point of reference was the scientific revolution model created by Thom Kuhn.50 Basing his work on Kuhn’s theory, the Polish historiography researcher broke free from Rüsen’s important axiological questions and did not debate whether there were attempts to transform Marxism in Soviet-era historiography into a useful methodological and theoretical “tool” in the cognitive sense. Zalejko was primarily interested in the most general form this historiography took – a paradigm as a reality-simulating “tool” (the goal of not examining the past, In the Captivity of the Matrix 11 but falsifying it, in the author’s opinion, is what has transformed Soviet historiography into an especially potent example of the historiographical paradigm), and the elements involved in its formation. Having recreated the most essential elements of the paradigm. Zalejko started to analyze those concepts considered most important by the Soviet Union’s historians that encompassed the capitalism genesis issue. Having precisely identified the features of the So- viet historical discourse and the riddles that exposed the inability of the Soviet Marxist paradigm to resolve essential questions in the genesis of capitalism, Zalejko reached the following conclusion: “In the Soviet science of history, historic materialism performed all the functions that in the natural sciences’ sphere were attributed to particular theories, and became a complete foundation for the eventuating research paradigm, however, it never reached the level of a mature scientific theory”.51 This kind of assessment was based on a strict divide: “Scientific theories that model reality do so in an aim to learn about it; ideological concepts aim to change it (or to preserve it)”.52 Zalejko’s analysis of the symbolic summaries of the Marxist paradigm created in the Soviet Union, its metaphysical organization, and especially its value structure, which highlighted the inner organization of Soviet history as a science, obviously reveals that it is a “means of creating the world, not of describing it. It is a weapon, not a tool [italics by Zalejko – noted by A. Š.]”.53 Of what value were the insights made by Zalejko in the writing of this book? Taking into consideration the fact that the official Soviet historiographical discourse started being formed in Vilnius by force, when the most elemental factors of the Marxist paradigm (as described by Zalejko) were already in place and functioning in Moscow and in many other of the Soviet Union’s centres, the questions that arose were how was this “paradigm–weapon” implanted into the Lithuanian academic environment, how did it function, and what were the outcomes of this functioning? The second methodological approach was directly adopted from Zalejko’s above-mentioned study and is related to the most important “riddles” that confronted Soviet historiography as a paradigm – conditioned by its theoretical insights and methodological “tools”, as well as the ineffectiveness of specific statements in resolving fundamental questions in history. Whereas Zalejko concentrates on the genesis of capitalism and its evolution to display the most important of these “riddles”, when examining the results of how the official historiographical discourse functioned in Lithuania, the temporal and spatial models (firstly, of feudalism) in Soviet-era syntheses were the focus for this book’s author (see pp. 157–183).

PROLOGUE What Forms had Lithuanian Historiography Taken on Prior to the Soviet Occupation?

Prologue 15

During the years of the Soviet occupation the goal was to destroy the history tradition that had been created over more than two decades by several gen- erations of historians. This tradition has already been comprehensively researched and evaluated in the works of Lithuanian historians.54 The period 1918–1940 can be described as a time of opportunity. The Lithu- anian science of history in most cases jumped at this possibility. In independent Lithuania, history successfully underwent an institutionalization process that began at the University of Berlin where Leopold von Ranke in 1832 initiated the first history seminar, and continued throughout Western Europe for the entire 19th century. In the inter-war period, a community of professional historians was formed which voiced its own unique approach to the Lithu- anian nation’s history in the form of a paradigm work (in the narrow sense). Lithuania’s political elite and the historians’ community created and realized a unique history politics program aimed at forming a Lithuanian historical consciousness and identity.55 These efforts produced concrete results rather quickly – in the inter-war period, a historical narrative was formed about the Lithuanian nation’s place in world history and along the East–West civilization divide. The national identity construct that was based on this narrative became the foundation for Lithuanians’ armed resistance and value-driven opposition to the Soviet occupation, and served as a point of reference in the 1980s with the commencement of the Sąjūdis movement. What circumstances allowed historians and the political elite of the time to exploit the unique opportunities of the inter-war period? In this respect, several factors need to be discussed:

1. The methodological – theoretical “instruments” that were used by historians. 2. The features of history policies and the academic system. 3. The paradigm work by historians from the inter-war period.

Methodological – theoretical “instruments”. The community of historians that was centred in Kaunas acutely followed time-honoured and broadly applied in world historiography (Germany, France) methodological work principles. A focus on searching for new sources, a sceptical approach to the earlier historiography (from the 19th century’s Romanticism era) and strict critique of 16 Aurimas Švedas sources, prioritizing archival work over other norms in historiography creation and attention to facts went hand in hand with doubting theoretical, phil- osophical or simply conceptual issues in historiography and history. In this way, a Kaunas history (empirical) school was formed in the inter-war period. Representatives of this school, when describing their identity, called themselves “the ploughmen of the fields of history”. They saw their task as a collection of separate facts – the “bricks of history”, which would later on be required for the construction of the “palace of history” (the writing of syntheses). These syntheses of the historicism paradigm, written in the 19th and first half of the 20th century in various West European states, were works of political history in which most attention was given to the spread of a specific nation’s statehood traditions. It was precisely this kind of history that the Lithuanian political elite and society desired in the inter-war period. A closer look at the rather small community of Lithuanian historians from that time (according to Valdas Selenis’ calculations, there were 60 individuals,56 whereas at Vytautas Magnus University, the calculations of Aurelijus Gieda offer only 25 historians from the entire inter-war period) brings to light certain generational and theoretical – methodological differences. In his analysis of the Lithuanian historians’ community, Gieda distinguishes the “1929 generation”. Some of the latter generation’s representatives who reached professional maturity at Vytautas Magnus University actively adopted the innovative theoretical ideas and methodological principles being used in the West’s academic tradition. During the course of a short period of just over ten years, a whole swathe of young historians’ texts appeared which voiced the necessity of re- newing the prevailing historiographical traditions, and raised and resolved theoretical – methodological questions. Some of these texts were written with an orientation to the historiographical manifesto genre.57 As it turned out, the Soviet occupation stopped the “1929 generation” from realizing its potential to the full. A symptomatic example of this case is the fate of the 1929-er Zenonas Ivinskis. Whereas in texts written in the inter-war period he stated the need for theoretical and methodological innovations in historiography and started to construct the image of Lithuania as a historical actor in constant, active interaction with Eastern and Western civilizations, and offered an original periodization model of history based not on political events but socio-economic processes, in emigration this historian did not formulate any conceptually new, revolutionary ideas.58 The as yet incomplete disclosure of the problems encountered by the “1929 generation” explains why historiography researchers, when talking about the inter-war community of researchers of the past and their scholarly contributions, first of all notice and draw Prologue 17 attention to those historiographical phenomena which were created by the older generation of inter-war historians, those who laid the foundations of the Kaunas history (empirical) school, and the students loyal to the methodological principles of this generation of “authorities”.

The features of history policies and the academic system. The essence of inter-war Lithuania’s history policy and society’s demands were exclaimed in Adolfas Šapoka’s credo “Let’s discover Lithuanians in Lithuania’s history”.59 This was a defensive position that aimed to communicate that as the Lith- uanian nation did not have its own state, its depictions of the past were for a long time created by Poles, Russians and Germans. That is why, with the declaration of independence, Lithuania’s history needed to be cleansed of foreign interpretations and a “Lithuanian” view of the past had to be presented to the Lithuanian nation. The appearance of such a closed model can be explained as a typical East European nation’s attempt to come to terms with its past (to conduct an “inventory”) and thereby find a basis for its right to existence and independence. The main opponent of Lithuanian historians who was fought against in the inter-war period using the means available to scientists were Polish historians and their offered depictions of a common Lithuanian–Pol- ish past. No fewer polemic tensions arose from Lithuanian–Russian and Lith- uanian–German attempts to discuss and assess a common past. The tensions that arose from the Vilnius–Berlin relations deserve further explanation. The necessity of “Let’s discover Lithuanians in Lithuania’s history” was encouraged by the intensive dissemination of Germany’s national history (Volksgeschichte). German politicians’ and society’s revisionist position regarding the results of the Treaty of Versailles led the country’s historians to scour the past for reasons that would justify the return of territories that Germany lost after the First World War. In this context, the ideological significance of the question of Lithuanians’ origins in Eastern Prussia came to prominence. Lithuania responded to Ger- many’s historiographical propaganda and revisionism using analogical means.60 It is important to note that the community of researchers of the past at the time understood “the discovery of Lithuanians in Lithuania’s history” not as an “embellishment” of certain historical plots or processes in the name of an honourable goal, but as a shift away from tendentious declarations and towards the historical truth. Lithuanian historians, responding to the above call, aimed to “show its nation’s past as it really was”, at the same time hoping that disclosing the life course of their nation’s past would make the present easier to understand. 18 Aurimas Švedas Thus, the community of Lithuanian historians that was formed in the inter-war period (“historians–ploughmen”) had to perform a number of important missions, according to the political elite and society at the time. The main center of concentration for inter-war historians, the new generation’s place of education and work was Vytautas Magnus University in Kaunas. Historical research and pedagogical activities were engaged in at the Faculty of Humanities and the Faculty of Theology–Philosophy. As was already mentioned, in the inter-war period there were twenty-five historians employed at Vytautas Magnus University. Over more than twenty years of work, this collective of lecturers managed to prepare around 200 graduates. An important feature of science and history policy is that these graduates had hardly any opportunities to further their careers as professional historians by devoting themselves to additional studies or scientific work, which is why a large majority became gymnasium teachers, returning to the rural areas after completing their studies in Kaunas. The development of inter-war historiography was halted both by a slow growth in humanities positions at the university, as by a lack of additional academic institutions that could offer positions to humanities scientists. In fact, from 1925 there was talk about founding or initiating an Institute of Lithuanian Studies, a Lithuanian Acad- emy of Sciences and a Lithuanian Cultural Academy, but for one or another reason none of these ideas were ever realized. In the 1930s the Vytautas Mag- nus University professors formulated another idea for the founding of a Lith- uanian Institute of Research, which later transformed into the Institute of Lithuanian Studies project of 1934, and five years on (in 1939) became the An- tanas Smetona Institute of Lithuanian Studies. However, this institution was incapable of making any effective changes to the situation that had unfolded in the academic sphere or in Lithuanian historiography. Therefore it should come as no surprise that in a text from 1937 titled “Critical matters in Lith- uanian history” Ivinskis was rather pessimistic of the situation amongst the community of historians:

Today, it appears, there are absolutely no new, young historians who are having their works publicized in some way. The majority, having gradu- ated from university and become teachers, due to unfavourable conditions facilitating scientific work (there are no libraries in the provinces), have completely retreated from this sphere and fail to write even the briefest of reviews. And we have large numbers of such historians! But even the young generation based in Kaunas is not adequately inclined towards conducting creative scientific work. Just look at the numbers Prologue 19 of new literature researchers, poets, economists – whilst the number of historians (of the younger generation) trying to engage in at least some kind of research can be counted on the fingers of one hand […] Those few, no more than ten pairs of hands, can hardly be expected to produce something.61

Considering the above discussed circumstances, the results of Lithuanian historiographical work from the inter-war period were nevertheless rather strong.

The Paradigmal Work by Inter-war Period Historians. The result of “Let’s discover Lithuanians in Lithuanian history” was The History of Lithuania by Adol- fas Šapoka and four colleagues (covering the earliest times to 1936), symbolizing the monumental scientific achievements in history from the inter-war period.62 Despite the preparation of the country’s history in summary being considered a matter of prime importance by the historians of Vytautas Magnus University, for a long time historians from both the older and younger gen- erations did not dare to go beyond conducting narrow research within their particular field and to instead write a synthesis. This situation came about as a result of the provision that prevailed amongst the adepts of the Kaunas empirical school that the transition from detailed fact finding to summaries could only take place when the amount of empirical material would be “sufficient”. However, according to this principle, the production of “bricks” (facts) for the construction of the “magnificent palace of history” (the writing of a synthesis) would have drawn on for a number of decades to come. Realizing this collision, the country’s political elite took the initiative to hasten the processes underway in the inter-war historians’ community. The birth of the synthesis was determined by the then Ministry of Educa- tion’s request in 1934 to compile a Lithuanian history textbook for the senior gymnasium classes.63 The collective of younger generation historians, Adolfas Šapoka, Juozas Jakštas, Zenonas Ivinskis, Paulius Šležas and Petras Klimas (this diplomat and scientist was the only representative from the older generation), commenced work in the beginning of 1935, and one year later the textbook was already in print, numbering 17,500 copies (a record figure for Lithuania at the time, comparable to prayer book editions).64 Even though the synthesis attracted quite a few critical comments in reviews after its release (most referred to the correction of minor errors or the specification of certain details), this book was especially well received by Lithuanian society. 20 Aurimas Švedas Both The History of Lithuania and its editor Šapoka have remained very popular in Lithuanian society. There were plans to release a second edition of the synthesis in 1940, yet the Soviet occupation destroyed this intention; a third edition came out in 1950 in Germany,65 and in 1980 it was released once again in the United States.66 In the Sąjūdis era, in 1988–1990, four editions of this book were printed, each reaching figures of 100,000 to 150,000 copies in circulation. What are the reasons for the popularity of this synthesis of Lithuanian history, which in the 20th century has come out in close to half a million copies, and is still a part of the personal libraries of many a Lithuanian household? The history of Lithuania that came out in 1936 is a political history. The main object of research is the emergence of the Lithuanian state, its growth, decline and eventual demise. That is why the development of statehood became the foundation for the synthesis’ periodization. Statehood, the highest value in a nation’s existence, is nurtured by the political elite. For this reason in the synthesis the state’s history is closely associated with the history of the ruling class. The development of the idea of statehood becomes quite clear by taking a closer look at the spatial and temporal models created in the synthesis. In the history edited by Šapoka, Lithuania’s territory is undefined, constantly changing, stabilizing for a short time before taking on new contours again and again. Thus, in a territorial sense, in this work Lithuania is understood as an unfin- ished project. The struggle to maintain the state’s borders becomes one of the fundamental motifs created in the synthesis, as if to ready the Lithuanian nation for the political reality that the 20th century’s inter-war period brought on: a Lithuania without Vilnius or its ethnically and historically Lithuanian (Belarusian) lands, but clinging to the right and hope to one day reclaim them, plus the newly recovered autonomous Klaipėda district, itself under threat of Germany’s expansionist throes. So Lithuania’s territorial non-correlation with itself in Šapoka’s history is understood as an essential and uniquely natural characteristic of the country, which can be explained and justified by taking an in-depth look at the country’s historical development. The synthesis boasts a purposefully created “great narrative”, with a temporal model that spans the entire history of Lithuania. This intention is described in the preface as a desire to “prepare a wider overview of our nation’s path, which would link events from the earliest and most recent times”.67 Neverthe- less, the collective of authors, in creating a uniform temporal model (from the creation of the state in the 13th century to its demise in the 18th century, and reinstatement in the 20th century), encountered enormous problems with the cultural variety of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania (GDL), and the radical Prologue 21 changes in the political elite and political orders, heading into the latest phase. In addition, putting maximum significance on the development of statehood, in the synthesis the Lithuanian nation, in terms of its history, undergoes a strict selection principle – only those periods in Lithuania’s history which reflect a strong state are necessary, worthy of honour and attention, whereas the period from 1569 to 1918 (the Union of Lublin, the gradual weakening of the state, the three partitions of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth and the state’s extinction under the occupation of tsarist Russia) is “non-Lithua- nian (shameful) history”. The relevance and longevity of this synthesis was determined by the So- viet occupation. As noted by one of the Soviet period’s historians: this book was “a weapon and symbol of Lithuanians’ resistance, of national and civil consciousness, and it was dangerous to our enemies, a publication harming their occupying-colonizing goals”.68 In other words, during the Soviet period Šapoka’s history of Lithuania carried out the role of a “correct” and “objective” history of statehood that rounded up the nation and helped preserve its memory, both in the Lithuanian SSR and amongst Lithuanian émigré communities living in various countries in the world.69 Having guaranteed this inter-war historians’ paradigm work its longevity and popularity, at the same time the Soviet occupation, like a tsunami, destroyed the hard-fought possibilities of the community of researchers of the past to conduct scientific work. A majority of the Lithuanian historians who had lectured at Vytautas Mag- nus University or engaged in scientific research during the inter-war period ended up emigrating after the war, going to Western Europe or the United States. Having departed Lithuania these scientists lost access to their sources and libraries, as well as their critical-discursive and competitive space which existed in university auditoriums and departments, not to mention the possibility of being able to earn a living from scientific or pedagogical work. For a larger part of scientists who found themselves in emigration, their subsequent places of employment were steelworks, slaughterhouses, furniture stores or insurance agencies, leaving research of the past as a weekend hobby. Thus, the time of the “historian-ploughman” generation came to a close, and saw in the age of the “warrior historian”.

CHAPTER 1

Characteristics of We are forgetting Soviet-Era Lithuanian one important thing – the Party Historiography and the government are like the battle headquarters, while all the education institutions, from the Acad- emy of Sciences to universities and gymnasiums, are the castles. We may imagine the leaders of these education institutions as the commandants, while the staffs are the troops.70

Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 25

External Characteristics The phenomenological analysis of Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography should begin with a discussion of its broadest features, let’s call them the external and internal characteristics. This kind of approach is prompted in the most important questions raised in Jurij Afanasjev’s article “The Phenomenon of So- viet Historiography” that thoroughly reveals the situation of the community of researchers of the past during the Soviet period.71 Afanasjev divides these questions into two groups. The first encompasses the consideration of the place, role and function of history in Soviet society (historiography’s “external dimensions”). Then, Afanasjev projects the second group of questions, these “dimensions”, into the very existence, structure, intrinsic rules, priorities, dominant themes, methodology and style of history. Through the application of the contours so eloquently described by Afanasjev, this chapter shall present an attempt at explaining just what place history occupied in the socio-political structure and academic system of the time, and what role was delegated upon research into the past in the Soviet state. By assessing the nature of relations between the Soviet leadership and historians and the dynamics of these relations, the system of institutions that formed the shape of the historiographical discourse and which guaranteed its vitality can be described.

The Place and Role of the Science of History in a Socio-Political Structure. In trying to determine the place of the science of history in the Soviet system, one of the most important sources is the introspection of historians themselves. “From the very first days of the entrenchment of Bolshevik rule, history, as a science, became one of the privileged academic disciplines” – this is Afanasjev’s retrospective assessment of the situation of studies into the past of Soviet Russia.72 Trends that took hold in the centre of the empire were similarly reflected in its peripheries. “In social studies, history takes a leading position” – as claimed Juozas Jurginis in his time.73 But couldn’t it be that these assessments have been provoked by certain historians’ aggrandizement or pressure from the prevailing circumstances? Whereas Afanasjev’s position was declared looking at Soviet-era historiography already from the distance of time, Jurginis’ statement from 1963, most likely, was strongly conditioned by the prevailing repressive environment. To resolve this problem of the conjucture of influence and possible self-aggrandizement, we need to look at sources 1 The Communist Party never let historians forget that the most important field of their activity had to be not in the scientific, but in the ideological sphere. This imperative would hang above the head of every researcher of the past like the sword of Damocles. A meeting of the Faculty of History community held on April 1979, to mark the 400th anniversary of the founding of Vilnius Univer- sity. Courtesy of the Faculty of History, Vilnius University.

in which the particularities of Soviet-era science policy have been recorded. In his speech “On the status of scientific studies in the Republic and how it can be improved and expanded” which was delivered to the LSSR Council of Ministers and the Central Committee of the Lithuanian Communist Party in 1960, Juozas Matulis, President of the LSSR Academy of Sciences classified scientific studies being conducted in Soviet Lithuania into three groups. Matulis’ first group consisted of “research in the field of the fundamental, or base, sciences”, the second – “collection of scientific and practical material” (or – “studies of a scientific service nature”). The third group encompassed “studies in the field of the applied sciences”.74 According to this scheme, historians’ “products” fell into the second group, contrasting volumes I and II of the History of the Lithuanian SSR to the Lithuanian SSR Peat Bog Cadastre, Lithuanian SSR Birds and other similar publications.75 In Matulis’ view, history could not profess to be one of the fundamental sciences that “broadens one’s general scope of knowledge, enriching their knowledge with the discovery of new laws of nature and explanations for natural and social phenomena, arming them with theories and ceaselessly denoting new guidelines on Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 27 the road towards further technical and manufacturing progress”.76 Before an- nouncing this verdict, on January 26, 1956 at the 5th Congress of the LCP (B), Matulis had already declared that “at present, there are no institutions, apart from historians, literary and language researchers, at our Academy that have not been involved in one or another complex problem aimed at the acceler- ation of agricultural or ecomonic growth”.77 This attitude towards historians, expressed by a high-ranking functionary and representative of the natural sciences, it would appear, contradicts the opinions of historians themselves regarding the status and importance of their discipline in the Soviet period. However, what could Matulis have meant then in his announcement given on May 13, 1971 at a general assembly of the Academy of Sciences when he voiced completely opposite assessments? Having stated that three branches of activity can be distinguished in the scientific study plan structure of the institutes: “a) fundamental research, b) scientific–technical problems, and c) industrial and semi-industrial experiments and the implementation of the latest scientific results”, Matulis went on to inform that in the fourth five-year plan period, twenty major issues would be focusd on, forming the core of fundamental research. Four of the mentioned issues were directly or partially related to the activities of the Institute of History.78 The fundametal research rating was also applied to the Institute of Histo- ry’s scientific studies in a speech given by Juras Požėla, Vice-President of the Academy of Sciences, on April 3, 1981 at a session of the Academy’s general assembly.79 These contradicting assessments may be explained by the fact that they were based on differing premises. In attempts at describing the place of history in the Soviet socio-political structure, strict distinctions must be made between history as a scientific study and history as a field of ideological activity (first of all, the history of the CPSU/LCP (B) or “research” from the socialist period). The retrospection of historians mentioned earlier first highlights the latter component – ideological activity. The assessments of Matulis in 1971 and Požėla in 1981 were made in light of precisely this component. According to the broadest Bolshevik concept of science, and twisting elements of scientism, progressivism and historical materialism into a curious blend, history was afforded a special status.80 Taking a historical approach was believed to “unlock” the secrets of the meaning of life, development plans and the final culmina- tion. It was considered a tool capable of changing reality. History had to not only “activate society’s social involvement” but also “legitimize the Party’s (the elite’s) policies”.81 Andrzej Grabski has made an accurately categorical definition of this function that was thrown upon historians by the Communist 2 The Soviet Union lived in a constant “seized fortress-like” state, which is why it was not enough for Soviet Lithuania’s scientists to be of the correct ideological readiness. Scientists of the Institute of History participating in civil defence training in 1982. Courtesy of the Lithuanian Institute of History.

Party: “Historiography did not only become a tool of the system, it also played a crucial role in its formation and development”.82 This cynically utilitarian function cast upon research of the past (or more precisely, its imitation) was based on the belief that the greatest value of history, however paradoxical it may sound, was related to the present and the future. Thus, “among the most senior ideologues of Bolshevik thought, history was given the status of an auxiliary science, helping to strengthen the new meta-science”.83 Historians were meant to serve, in the words of François Furet, a basic illusion (“One of the distinctive traits of Communism was its inseparability from a basic illusion, which for many years appeared to be val- idated by Communism’s own history, until it was dispelled by that history”),84 and in return, their work was seen as being of special ideological importance. Incidentally, this work was not even termed scientific, but regarded as combatant activity on the “ideological front”. So the self-perception of the community of historians that was formed before the war, where historians were considered ploughmen of the fields of Lithuania’s history, was completely rejected under the new circumstances. Soviet ideology enforced upon historians the warrior historian metaphor, coined in the first half of the twentieth Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 29 century and already successfully applied in ideological battles.85 Therefore, researchers of the past had to “arm themselves with methodology” and “researching skills” so that they would be able to successfully carry out “combatant tasks”, and then “report back” to the Party and government on their successfully completed tasks.86 The recruitment of Clio’s servants for the ideological front had to unavoidably have an impact on the quality of their work. Historians themselves understood this perfectly well, as did other humanities academics. The Long-serving editor of the magazineKultūros barai, Bronys Savukynas, made this comment on the importance of differentiation (based on the divide between history as a scientific study and history as an ideological activity):

The philologists and literature specialists were certainly well aware of who was who among the historians. Those specialising in medieval history were viewed favourably. The competency of Vytautas Merkys, Mečislovas Jučas and Antanas Tyla never raised any doubts with anyone. Jurginis was also regarded as an authority, as his essays did not quite follow the Soviet standard, at least in terms of their form. Among the Lithuanian studies specialists, everyone knew who Žiugžda was.87

Thus, the place of research about the past, whilst caught in the trap of socio-political conjunctures, was closely related to its role as dictated by the Party elite. The circumstances of historians in Lithuania were dependent on several conditions, where the official discourse of historiography was shaped following the Bolshevik model that had already been proven to work in Russia. When this process began in Vilnius, the great struggles for the new concept of history had already ended in the Soviet Union. Lithuania’s historians simply had to copy and illustrate the schemes mapped out in Moscow. On the other hand, Lithuania’s provincial status also determined certain specific nuances as part of this Socialist commission. Edvardas Gudavičius has described a very broad outline of this commission regarding Lithuanian historians:

In terms of the Party, Lithuania’s historians were given a very important task. And our historical legacy was not depreciated. Naturally, a utilitarian approach was taken. “Adapt it [history] as needed”. That meant objective scientific achievements were not appreciated. Historians had to rewrite these works. At the same time, while presenting this utilitarian approach, there is one other component related to Lithuanians that must be mentioned. 30 Aurimas Švedas Certain re-writings of Russian history were not required. Russia as a state remained as it was. And not only did it remain, the “nice” approach to the Russian state, the one that is proletarian, and the future of the entire world, etc., assumed even more positive arguments. Following on from this, the entire history of Russia brought about this global revolution in which the latter was cast as a pillar, an avant-garde player, part of an honourable, consistent movement towards those things I have just mentioned. […] Thus, our historians were given one other task: to not only relate Lithuania’s history differently, but also, to show that it was the history of Russia’s North-Western lands. Indeed, the “label” was a little different – instead of saying “North-Western lands” [Северно-Западный край], “the Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic” was used. But that was just a label after all. In other words, historians had to perform an enormous figurative distortion of the past.88

The Party elite never let historians forget what was expected of them: “We need to extract what is necessary for the Socialist state from our cultural heritage” – probably the clearest description of the role of historians in the totalitarian reality, as relayed by Antanas Sniečkus, First Secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B), at a Communist Youth plenum on Feb- ruary 21, 1957. His enthusiasm gathering momentum, “Lithuania’s manager” not only identified what the Party elite required of the past, but also gave an example of this utilitarian relationship with history: “Even Kęstutis and Vytautas [Lithuania’s grand dukes] can play a part in education, though not in a nationalist light, but by appreciating their roles in the struggle against German invasion”.89 The long-serving actual ruler of the LSSR (1940–1974) has rather straight- forwardly denoted the Party line regarding Lithuanian history and culture on more than one occasion. He allowed himself to speak openly on this matter during a conversation with members of the Writers’ Union on January 18, 1957 (the events in Hungary and their repercussions forced Sniečkus to sustain rather active communication with the intelligentsia in 1956–1957):

This is how we see things: where there is no socialist ideology, a bourgeois ideology exists. Heritage must help serve our socialist ideology. […] Some say we need to consider our entire cultural heritage. If we are talking about heritage but not relating it to our socialist ideology, Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 31 then we have bourgeois nationalism. We cannot view cultural heritage without considering how it might help build socialism.90

These “lofty” offerings from the First Secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) unambigously reveal the price historians had to pay for the privileged status of their discipline. What the Soviet state required first of all from researchers of the past was that they embark on “the formation of a Marxist-Len- inist worldview, armed with an understanding of the laws of social evolution, fostering a socialist consciousness and beliefs”.91 For this to happen, the community of historians had to proceed with a distortion of specific moments in Lithuanian history,92 devoting most attention to the legimitization of the prevailing conjunctures of the day, and replace any critical dialogue, normally a necessary part of cognitive thinking, into a submissive repetition of the dogmas handed down “from above”. The Party elite constantly stressed that the present day events should be the most important field of work for historians. In turn, historians gathered in various meetings and often deliberated on the most ap- propriate way to meet this Party demand. On April 16, 1976 during a session of the Academy of Sciences general assembly, director of the Institute of History Vaitkevičius read an announcement during which, hardly able to contain his pride, he stated that “at present, in our mind, we have found the optimal ratio: around 55 percent of our scientists are working on issues from the past, the remainder are looking at development processes of a socialist society”.93 The sheer volume of texts lauding the “socialist utopia” that were released during the So- viet period lead us to doubt whether the 45 percent identified by Vaitkevičius reflected the actual number of those charged with legitimizing the conjunctures of the day. All these characteristics of Lithuanian historiography from the Soviet period that even further point at the unprecedented isolation from any theoretical ideas functioning beyond the borders of the USSR show that the Com- munist Party’s specific socialist commissioning of the community of historians, citing the accurate insight made by Gwidon Zalejko, created a “clinical paradigm”, aimed at a reckless appeasement of the demands of the Soviet reality.94 A comprehensive discussion of the place and role of Lithuanian history as a science in the Soviet-era socio-political environment must include one other circumstance. Regardless of this discipline’s importance in “battles on the ideological frontline”, historians were not seen as academic demigods, capable of inspiring the masses to accomplish great feats with their genial insights. The reality was somewhat more prosaic. Historians’ “rating” on the Soviet state scale depended on how obedient they were in agreeing to explain, develop and illustrate with examples the theses formulated by the Party elite. And what 3 First Secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Petras Griškevičius (1974–1987) (first from left) visiting Vilnius University in 1979. Next to him is the Secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Algirdas Brazauskas. In the background, Vilnius Univer- sity Rector Jonas Kubilius (1958–1991). Courtesy of Vidas Naujikas.

is more, in his research of the Soviet historiography phenomenon, Afanas- jev has accurately noted that during the mentioned period “a historian could consider himself a professional only to the extent which he believed himself to be a Party crusader”.95 Any attempts at independent thinking often ended with the “generous” hand of the Party suddenly showing the brave fighter his actual place. An example of this typically utilitarian and openly cynical view not only of the past, but towards the scientists researching the past comes from the journal of the long-serving (1948–1984) director of the Institute of Party History, Romas Šarmaitis. On the prevailing scientific policy “scale” of the day he occupied an important position, and his activities markedly determined the general “climate” of Lithuanian historiography during the Soviet period. In a conversation that took place on October 3, 1980 Šarmaitis dared to dis- agree with the opinion of the Second Secretary of the Central Committee of Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 33 the LCP (B), Russian Nikolaj Dybenko. The high-ranking Party functionary openly mocked Šarmaitis, who, having been so openly wronged, later described the incident as so: “I felt like a stooge. Dybenko treated me exactly like the NKVD interrogator at Moscow’s Taganka prison in 1938–1939 who pushed me and held a fist to my face. I remained silent and suffered”.96 This “special importance” of history in “battles” on the ideological frontline reminds us of one of the most characteristic features of the period – the dominant principle of ambiguity and paradox, which unavoidably and critically influenced historiography. So what place did history occupy within the Soviet-era public domain? It’s tricky to give a simple, unambiguous answer. Examples shall once again relate the contradictory assessments. On January 10, 1955, in a staff meeting of the Institute of History and Law where the past year’s activities were recalled and what important scientific research projects waited, summarizing the discussion Jurginis stated: “Our Institute is among the most popular institutes in the Lithuanian SSR Academy of Sciences system. Conferences organized by our Institute always attract audiences beyond the hall’s capacity. This is evidence of society’s vital interest first of all in the scientific problems we are tackling”.97 However, of all the responses historians heard concerning their activities, not all were as positive as the latter. On September 28, 1973, staff from the Depart- ment of the History of Socialism, when discussing ways the quality of Sovi- et-era research could be improved, acknowledged that the odd mistakes that occurred in their work had an effect on the public’s view towards this sector, “that is why we must do our utmost to avoid them, as it is these partial inaccuracies that often lead to generalizations that the history of socialist society does not qualify as ‘history’, and so on”.98

Obviously, during the Soviet period society placed greatest value on those studies by historians that were the least ideologically indoctrinated and grap- pled with important topics (in a historical sense), and which were most loyal to the pioneer of the historicism paradigm Leopold von Ranke and his resolution to depict the past “as it really was” (wie es eigentlich gewesen).

The System of Institutions that Formed Soviet Lithuanian Historiography. The specific place and function of history as a science was determined by the institutional system that was meant to ensure its existence and configurations. The Central Committee of the LCP (B) had the final word in forming or deforming the official historical discourse. It was this highest ranking institution 4 The man whose opinion was decisive in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography for a long time - the first secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Antanas Sniečkus (centre). On the left – LKP CK Bureau member (1953–1976) Motiejus Šumauskas, on the right – Chair of the LSSR Supreme Soviet (1940–1967) Justas Pa- leckis. Courtesy of Vidas Naujikas. in the LSSR administration that played the important role of the “supervisor” of historians, while also playing the “hangman of the historians’ community”. In order to understand the scale of its influence on historians, the insights made by Sigitas Jegelevičius are especially to the point:

The Central Committee of the LCP (B) interfered only when it saw that the situation was indeed serious, from the Communist Party point of view. The members of the Central Committee did not believe that historians could have any real impact on the country’s general political climate. This attitude was formed by the respective behaviour model for dealing with historians: the latter were forced into a corner using ideological and political “screws” and were “checked upon” once in a while to see that they would not venture from this corner or would not air any discrediting information, i.e., ideologically or politically “dangerous” material or information. The Central Committee was responsible for everything that went on in the country, which is why exclusive attention, naturally, could not be directed only at the historians.99

Meeting minutes of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau mention the community of historians only in rare cases. Several such decisions may Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 35 be mentioned that had a marked influence on the formation of the historiographical discourse. In the first phase (in 1951 and 1954) the Central Commit- tee of the LCP (B) deliberated the activities of the Institute of History directed by Žiugžda and made suggestions on how the preparation of the history of Marxist Lithuania’s synthesis could be accelerated. In 1956, as part of an initiative by that same institution, two meetings with representatives of the social sciences were called, during which the text of the Short Course of the Lithu- anian SSR was discussed. In 1961, the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bu- reau discussed the ideological mistakes in Jurginis’ textbook. On the other hand, it is obvious that the documented directives of the mentioned institution that lie in archives today do not reflect the whole spectrum of its influence on the community of historians. The course of action most favoured by the highest Party leaders in the Soviet period was the so-called “telephone law”. The negative influence of these “resolutions” on the whole community of scientists in the Soviet period was disclosed in the memoirs of an active participant in the day’s science policies, Juozas Matulis.100 Meanwhile, during an interview, historian Vanda Kašauskienė related the application of an analogous measure to researchers of the past:

Sometimes it is said that then a lot depended on “the power of the phone call” – a decision would be made, it would be carried out, but there would not be any substantiating documents as proof. […] Sometimes a telephone call or a phrase heard during a conversation would suffice to reveal that certain “deviations” had caught the attention of those at the highest levels.101

The situation of historians during the Soviet period depended not only on direct orders or “telephone laws”, but also on general changes in the so-called “social sciences” that were often also determined by the Party’s will. The Cen- tral Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau constantly organized meetings during which the general situation of ideological work would be discussed and assessed. Historians would often be singled out here. Similar assessments were made during Central Committee of the LCP (B) plenums and Party congresses. One other important influential lever applied to the community of historians by the Communist Party was the transformation of historical memory. The Central Committee of the LCP (B) was not only wary that historians’ texts would reflect an ideologically and politically “correct” image of the past; they also insistently offered recipes how to assess and present one or another aspect of Lithuania’s history to the public. 36 Aurimas Švedas The most important aide of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) in implementing its science policy became the Institute of Party History and primary Party organizations that pooled historians. The Institute of Party History acted as the chancellery of the Central Committee of the LCP (B).102 It not only prepared translations of classical Marxist-Leninist works for publication, coordinated research about the revolutionary movement in Lithuania and investigated the activities of the LCP (B) and the Lenin Young Communist League of Lithuania (LYCLL), but also performed a critical role in presenting the Party leadership with the necessary formulae about Lithuania’s historical processes from the late 19th–20th century. The Institute of Party History had the right to dress the most painful aspects of Lithuania’s history in Marxist rhetoric, thus falsifying them so that the LCP (B) could substantiate the legitimacy of the Soviet leadership. In order to complete this task, the Institute’s staff prepared various references for the Central Committee of the LCP (B) and participated in compiling general courses on Lithuanian history or carefully reviewing texts written by their colleagues from the Institute of History which touched on ideologically and politically “dangerous” historical issues from the late 19th–20th century. Šarmaitis, the long-serving director of the Institute of Party History, was actively involved in forming the “topography” of Lithuanian historiography, while in 1970 his deputy Vaitkevičius was appointed to head the Institute of History when Žiugžda was forced to step down from this role due to his de- clining health. This changeover of posts again confirms the importance of the institution under discussion in the science policy games being modelled by the Central Committee of the LCP (B). Another circumstance also serves as res- onant testimony of this importance – the Institute of Party History was given command of the largest information base in Soviet Lithuania (compared to other institutions where historians worked). Commenting on the influence of this institute on the formation of the science of Soviet history, Jegelevičius identified this possession of information as one of the most important aspects:

Formally, two institutions were the predominant actors in the formation of the science of Soviet history: the Institute of Party History and the Institute of History. However, in reality the Institute of Party His- tory played the deciding role, especially when we remember the issue of access to literature. Those in cooperation with the Institute of Party History were in an elite situation. They could make use of everything that arrived in Lithuania. Second in line were the staff of the Insti- tute of History who received only the leftovers and in third place was 5 Faces of the Soviet-era “science policy vertical”: Director of the Institute of Party History (1948–1984) Romas Šarmaitis (third from left) in 1982 at the 60th birthday celebration of the editor of the newspaper Sovetskaja Litva, Menaš Chien (first from right). Cour- tesy of Lithuanian Special Archive.

everyone else… […] Literature from abroad that reached Lithuania, if it fell into the “uncertain” category, usually ended up in the Institute of Party History. Much later (perhaps from the mid-1960s) foreign publications from these special collections started appearing in other scientific libraries as well. Staff from the Institute of History could familiarize themselves with certain things perhaps a little easier, but as for everyone else, well… The Institute of Party History didn’t delve into early history, but nevertheless, it supervised who could receive information, how much and what.103

The primary Party organizations had to supervise the general emotional-intellectual climate of a given collective and foster scientists’ “ideological purity”. The members of these organizations felt responsible for the general level of a particular scientific pedagogical study or body of research, and they had to employ certain measures if they found any potential deviations from the Marxist-Leninist line. This responsibility and authority transformed the Party organization into a “concentrated, militant political core within the rest of the collective”.104 In pedagogical institutions, the Party organization would receive all manner of assistance from the Department of History of 38 Aurimas Švedas the CPSU which was responsible for the spread of the humanities, as well as Marxist-Leninist theory. The historians who were charged with creating the general lines of Lith- uania’s historiography worked mainly at the following institutions: the LSSR Academy of Sciences Institute of History, the Vilnius State Vincas Kapsukas University and the Vilnius State Pedagogical Institute. The Institute of History played an especially significant role in forming the historiography of the day. This responsibility and the tasks the Party expected the Institute to complete are recorded in the general provisions confirmed during the Presidium of the LSSR Academy of Sciences on December 10, 1946: “The primary task of Lithuania’s Institute of History is to engage in universal fostering of the Soviet sciences of history and ethnography, to research and comprehensively exploit advances in historical and ethnographical thought to further socialist culture, create a classless society and progress gradually from socialism to communism”.105 The Institute boasted the largest group of historians in Lithuania and provided the largest quantity of “scientific production”.106 In turn, the Institute of His- tory collective shouldered the greatest responsibility in preparing the historical syntheses of the Lithuanian SSR. In addition, alongside this Institute there was also the LSSR Historical Research Board which coordinated historical research in the republic. Almost all the tensions that formed and changed the official historical discourse arose from none other than the Institute of History. However, in society at the time, the Institute of History was not considered to be the one and only important office forming historiography. Accord- ing to Jegelevičius, “society was more familiar with the university. After all, in one or another way, most Lithuanians would come across the university rather than any other institution. Whereas the Institute was seen by society as ‘something major’ … Yet, and especially after 1979, everyone said: and we have Vilnius University…”107 However, in actual fact, the main task of the University’s Faculty of History-Philology (from 1968, just of History) was not scientific research but pedagogical work, during which, aside from on-hand knowledge, the foundations of a Soviet worldview were also being formed. Pedagogical work at the University during the Soviet period meant first of all not the knowledges and skills-based training of students but rather a process wherein their consciousness was sovietized. Representatives of the Soviet government and those in their trust were not unembarrassed to cynically acknowledge that “the building of communism requires that the consciousness of our working people be free from various interfering moments”.108 For this reason, the staff of the Faculty of History was on numerous occasions ordered to repeat that the primary task of lecturers was to “diminish and liquidate 6 Faces of the Soviet-era “science policy vertical”: editor of the magazine Komunistas (1971–1984) Genrikas Zimanas con- gratulating the long-serving director of the Institute of History (1948–1970) Juozas Žiugžda on the occasion of his 85th birthday. Courtesy of the Lithuanian Institute of History. any unhealthy nationalistic inclinations amongst the student body”.109 This “brainwashing” of the youth’s consciousness and the nurturing of a communist worldview employed theoretical courses (on the Party’s history, philosophy, political economy, scientific communism), seminars and exercises, as well as extra-curricular activities (in the Student Academic Society, the Communist League/Komsomol and in trade union organizations).110 The Institute of History and the Faculty of History were closely associated as academic staff of the Institute were often appointed to secondary pedagogical positions within the faculty. In addition, historians from the Institute and the University reviewed each others’ scientific papers, and worked together at conferences and in meetings on issues arising in historiography.111 During the Soviet period, the Pedagogical Institute probably had least influence on the historical discourse. Historians who worked there were forced to devote most of their attention to pedagogical (primarily, once again, students’ ideological preparation) rather than research activities. Incidentally, these historians felt as if they were on the periphery of scientific processes. One historian who transferred from the Institute of History to work at the Pedagogical Insti- tute, Gaigalaitė, recalled that she felt as if she had ended up in the provinces:

On September 1, 1969 I started working as a pedagogue. Even now I’m not sure whether this step was very smart. I can only say one thing for 40 Aurimas Švedas certain, that I shed many tears over this move. Very soon I felt as if I had left a large city with its intellectual environment and ended up in a very backward provincial town, not even like one from my homeland Lithuania as it was during the war, but some kind of god-forsaken corner of Vilnius, devoid of intellectual people, somewhere on the other side of the Neris River. I ask my colleagues from those first days who might still be alive to forgive me for these words. Perhaps I’m exagger- ating. But that’s precisely how I felt for over twenty years.112

The main task of the institutions discussed above and of the people who worked there was that all historians had to wear their masks in an orderly fash- ion and not demonstrate any independent thinking in public that would question the official discourse. Meanwhile, one other institution had a completely opposite task – its staff was particularly interested not in what lay within the field of the unified discourse, but rather, what lurked behind the scenes. These were the “cloak and dagger knights” from the KGB who also closely monitored historians’ activities.113

Internal Characteristics A Historian’s “Methodological Instrumentation”. The nature of relations between the Soviet government and the collective of historians that was expressed as a unique social objective as well as the hierarchical system of institutions that formed the official historical discourse make up only a fraction of the set of features that created the phenomenon that was Sovi- et-era Lithuanian historiography. Everything that has been termed as “external characteristics” had a great influence on how the principle system of scientific work developed. This influence was expressed through repression via the installation of a particularly unique methodological instrumentation (for the reconstruction or falsification of the past) and indoctrination of a dialectical value system (based on which it was decided what constituted a “good” or “bad” study of the past). The reconstruction of the foundations and tools of Soviet-era historians’ research is rather difficult, primarily due to specifically socialist scientific practices. In each scientist’s work, “methodology” in effect had to correspond with “ideology”. So it was that on March 29, 1947 during a general assembly of the Academy of Sciences, the president Matulis recklessly urged all his colleagues to “deeply impregnate all your studies with the principles of that Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 41 [Marxist-Leninist] ideology”,114 while on January 24, 1948 during an Institute of Agriculture staff meeting Jonas Lukoševičius dared to pathetically remind those listening that “science and ideology are indivisible. Soviet science is based on Marxist-Leninist ideology. Whoever wishes to work in the field of science must come to this realization. There cannot be any choice between science and ideology”.115 Representatives of the social sciences (especially the humanities) were among the first who had to sacrifice their research tools (methodology) in the name of ideology, as “the ideological aspect, as we all know, is naturally in- scribed into the activities of the humanities studies institutes”.116 This “aspect” influenced different disciplines in different ways. Due to the specific nature of a particular object of research, some disciplines managed to maintain a rather safe distance from ideological indoctrination,117 yet this did not apply to history. The most cynical representatives of the Party leadership, reasoning on research of the past and the interpretation of the due results, allowed themselves to go even further. During the 7th Congress of the LCP (B) in Septem- ber, 1952, the LSSR military commissar Jonas Macijauskas, while “educating” the senior Party functionary Justas Paleckis, devised the following expressive formula: “history = ideology = the LCP (B) position”.118 This was not the bra- vura of a major general, intoxicated with his imagined sense of power. As has already been mentioned, comments and resolutions aimed at historians that were made during CPSU and LCP (B) congresses and plenums became imperatives which determined changes in the direction of scientific studies, putting a stop to various “ideological heresies”, etc.119 That is why ideology had a great influence on the accustomed way of reconstructing and portraying the past, which is what we have called methodology. Probably the clearest definition was given by Mindaugas Tamošiūnas, one of the scientific scholars of the Institute of Party History: “Methodology is a class-based approach to social phenom- e n a”. 120 Šarmaitis clarified this definition further at a conference on April 28, 1973: “Methodology is first and foremost a scientist’s worldview”.121 By giving such prominence to the Party aspect of research of the past, the methodological apparatus of history was impacted in several ways. During the Soviet period, the concepts of “theory” and “methodology” primarily referred not to the systemized application of certain approaches or methods in the reconstruction of past events or processes, but to the use of ideological postulates, cloaked under the universal “Marxist-Leninist” label. This is clearly revealed in an analysis of the topics covered by the Institute of History for its theoretical seminars that were intended to raise historians’ qualifications. The number of topics related to purely historical awareness was very 7 The “tools” of Soviet-era historians were constructed and deliberated at methodological seminars. Photograph from a methodological seminar held in January, 1984 at the Institute of History. Courtesy of the Lithuanian Institute of History.

small. Documentation from the period 1949–1985 reveals that there were 210 seminars or discussion topics on “political education”, “science”, “philosophy”, “theory” and “methodology”. Of these, methodological issues were examined during only thirteen presentations or discussions.122 Identifying ideology with methodology forced researchers of the past to throw Marxist-Leninist quotes into the introductions of their scientific papers, often sacrificing any deeper theoretical insights or innovative methodological approaches in the name of presenting an irreproachable ideological text. As the Polish researcher of historiography Andrzej Grabski has stated, the identification of theory and methodology with ideology left historians with no space for alternative thinking. Casting aside certain postulates or ideologemes that functioned in the public discourse, researchers of the past suddenly found themselves among the political and ideological adversaries of the Soviet system.123 According to historian Antanas Kulakauskas, a witness of these processes, Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 43 “Methodology was little different to ideology. Meanwhile, scientists who discussed these questions in their texts tried to avoid any demonstrations of inner searching, or show how they stood out from the grey masses”.124 The openly ideological application of Marxism-Leninism meant that during the Soviet period, historians saw it as an unavoidable evil rather than a theory capable of broadening their understanding. Literature researcher Vik- torija Daujotytė-Pakerienė notes that in trying to distance themselves from the mentioned “evil”, “defensive” and pro forma positions started appearing in philologists’ scientific works.125 In this instance, philologists were not an exception. Whilst recording a series of interviews, it became apparent that a majority of Lithuanian historians’ relations with Marxist theory was limited to quotes of a precisely “defensive nature”, or the selection of which “mask” to wear, completely avoiding examination of the heuristic value of this theory on research of the past. Gudavičius made the most accurate observation of this collision: “This was not Marxism. It was Soviet Marxism. And Soviet Marxism was simply the addition of some kind of ‘hocus-pocus’ to empirical research”.126 So, at first glance a paradoxical question arises regarding Soviet-era Lith- uanian historiographical research at the turn of the 20th–21st century – on how many occasions was Marxist theory and methodology actually consciously and creatively applied?127 The “amount of Marxism in Soviet Marx- ism” problem is of interest to others besides just Lithuanian historiographical researchers. Attempts at counting how many historians managed to use Marx- ist theory as a tool to learn about the past, rather than distort it, have given surprising results.128 The understanding of Marxism as an unavoidable evil in Soviet-era Lith- uanian historiography encouraged “internal emigration” processes. In order to avoid any direct association with the ideology or servitude to the Party’s demands, historians often chose either “strategic” or “tactical” means of resolving this problem. In the first case, historians would choose to examine topics from a much earlier period. For example, the Middle Ages, compared to the 19th or 20th centuries, were a relatively “safe” period, guaranteeing relative freedom during the research process. This means of “chronological escapism” was mentioned by almost all interview participants that encountered the official discourse from the Soviet period and its “supervisors”. This reflection from Medieval studies specialist Irena Valikonytė is symptomatic of the above:

Even though during the Soviet period the feudalism era was the least researched historical timeframe (from a quantitative aspect), it was 44 Aurimas Švedas precisely in this sphere where the easiest formal “safe zones” were found. You would use one or another quote from Lenin or Marx as “filler” in the introduction (as you could not do without them), and perhaps relate one or another Party congress resolution, or include one or another objective raised at a congress, and then you were practically free to get to the real task at hand. You did what you saw as necessary.129

Scientists who chose the “tactical” way tried to examine questions that were as specific as possible. Because, as the famous Russian Medieval studies specialist Aron Gurevich noted, “when you start generalizing, you end up in the ideology ruled zone”.130 “Hiding behind the facts” was one of the essential methodical measures used by Soviet-era historians, which determined a particularly large volume of empirical texts. What does this tell us? Everything depends on the point of reference. Even before the Soviet period came to an end, in 1988, the VU Faculty of History Sąjūdis initiative group had prepared a “Reformation project for history specialist training” in which empiricism is compared to such evils in historiography as dogmatism or insufficient attention to theoretical reflexions.131 But taking a retrospective look at the Soviet period, Egidijus Aleksandravičius who researched Soviet Lithuanian historiography called this approach “preventative positivism”, lending this concept a positive connotation. According to Aleksandravičius, “preventative positivism was first of all expressed as an effort to ignore any deduction in one’s research, to base one’s findings more on thorough factographic work demanding inductive reasoning”.132 The absolution of inductive reasoning allowed scientists who were trying to unravel the past while avoiding ideological potholes to retain the maximum degree of honesty in their work. Both assessments are founded. Yet we must keep in mind that empiricism had the effect of significantly grading history, encompassing: 1) researchers who had consciously chosen “preventative positivism”, not wanting to compromise their conscience; 2) those scientists who had tried to form a broader theoretical outlook, but failed due to conjunctural barriers; 3) “historical ar- tisans” who were completely satisfied with the factographic approach. We should also remember that by forcing historians to present facts from pre-prepared, unquestionable schemes of historical evolution, it was as if the leadership itself encouraged use of the artisan-like “illustrative-descriptive, citation method”.133 Thus, fact collection and their exposition could serve not just as an “internal resistance” tool. The empirical approach in texts from those days could also signal a scientist’s intellectual futility or hide a historian’s longing for wide theoretical horizons, professional and/or personal drama. Unveiling Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 45 what every case may be is only possible by conducting a close analysis of a specific text and the issue being examined in light of the particular historio- graphic (Soviet period) context. Besides the ways already discussed which allowed historians to navigate between the ideological barriers set up for them, there was also one other methodological measure that strongly influenced the works of not only researchers of the past, but all humanities specialists. In their attempts to avoid censorship,134 historians would consistently practice self-censorship, which was often just as damaging as direct censorship when depicting the past. Writ- ing any text, historians felt obliged to take out the scalpel and castrate their thoughts themselves.135 However, even those scientists who “sincerely” tried to meet all the invisible yet constantly felt censors’ requirements could not be sure that their text would still not go by unnoticed on someone’s radar. These retrospective thoughts of historian Vytautas Merkys help us understand the damaging effect of censorship on historiography from those days:

The point is that censorship was not only of the blunt variety. It would start from self-censorship. From then, censorship mechanisms would start to come into force over several stages. First of all were the Institute’s deliberations. Here, the tone would be dictated by the “real Soviet” historians. Afterwards, texts would be looked over by the reviewers. Attempts were made that at least one of the reviewers would be “well known”. They would be assisted by one other competent historian, who could pick up on various factual errors in the text. From then, the publisher’s censorship would come into play – in this case, an editor. They would also be very wary of “something” not slipping past into the printing stage. […] And next would be the real censors’ turn […] And beyond this official censorship would be the Central Committee. The Central Committee Propaganda Branch would act as a screening organization, yet in reality, they were a cover for the KGB. And it was for this reason, that even if a text did not stumble at one of my mentioned censorship hurdles, it still did not mean it would get through to the end.136

The Party elite understood perfectly well that censorship’s Scylla and self-censorship’s Charybdis could not ensure that some “heretic” thought by a risk-taking historian would not somehow get past and challenge the official discourse. It was also no secret to the strategists on the “ideological frontline” that some historians, in seeking to avoid any contact with ideology, would choose the “internal emigration” road. The Soviet system’s preventative 8 During the Soviet period, historians had to work armed not just with pens, but shovels as well. Photography of a Saturday working-bee in April, 1971 where scientists of the Institute of His- tory participated. First from left – Director of the Institute of His- tory (1970–1987) Bronius Vaitkevičius. Courtesy of the Lithuanian Institute of History.

measures to counteract attempts at independent behaviour threw another two methodological hurdles at historians – planned and collective work principles. The push to meet five-year plan obligations, thus propelling the rhythm of political life in the Soviet Union, was reflected in the field of history as well – it was not merely a formality (balancing on the tightrope of misunderstanding, a formality could be considered the principles of socialist rivalry that were instilled amongst the community of historians at the time).137 Just in case historians forgot their ideological duties, their “scientific production” was carefully planned. This aspect is especially evident in documents that reveal the details of scientific research material from the Institute of Party History and the Institute of History. A glance at these documents makes it very clear that the Stakhanovite rhetoric was alive and well in the historians’ work environment. Some examples of this rhetoric are reminiscent of excerpts from Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 47 propaganda lectures. So it was that on October 7, 1946 during a meeting of the Institute’s staff regarding failure to carry out the set work plans, folklorist Zenonas Slaviūnas, responsible for Soviet folklore collection, had to beat his chest and exclaim that he “promises to correct this error, and find and collect revolutionary folklore material to the extent that not only this year’s work quota would be met, but even exceeded”.138 The subtext of this ideological scientific planning principle became more apparent in instances when a “guiding idea and system” were found to be missing from a historian’s scientific activity plan.139 The Party’s ideological requirements often forced historians to commit themselves despite knowing in advance that their promised actions would indeed be impossible. This collision was probably best expressed in Žiugžda’s tragi-comic observation from the Institute’s board meeting held on December 17, 1954 during confirmation of the scientific research work report: “Out of eleven planned topics, five have been unexecuted. This is the result of us spending too much time planning, but we cannot not plan the most important tasks, even though at the beginning of the year it was clear that its accomplishment was impossible”.140 The collective work principle, where several scientists would examine a specific topic,141 also guaranteed the Soviet government the opportunity to interfere in historians’ work. Gudavičius has identified the negative aspects of such collective work:

Work in groups was nothing else but “kolkhoz” work. I didn’t work in the Institute’s group but I was appointed to the interdepartmental Stat- ute group. And thank god that this group was led by a man like Lazutka, who trained every one of us individually, making circumstances such that we could work. I cannot complain about Jurginis either. Yet the system itself compromised not only the work we were doing, but specialists’ development as well. What I mean is the possibility to “stick one’s nose into someone else’s soup”, and often, the forcible urging to interfere in matters of no direct concern.142

A similarly sceptical view of this collective work was also held by Merkys: “Collective work put a cap on any science research fellows rising too high above the rest and made it possible to go through any more liberated ideas with an ideological comb, shaping these ideas as required”.143 The concept of Soviet science, which implicitly postulated only those theories and methodologies that were “correct” and “progressive”, formed a specific relationship between historians and the traditions of science that applied 48 Aurimas Švedas beyond the USSR’s borders. This could be called “seized fortress” syndrome.144 This syndrome was first of all expressed as a hostile approach to historiographical traditions in the West or amongst the émigré, one which rejected any possibility of sustaining a normal dialogue. Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography had to not only reconstruct (falsify) depictions of the past or create present-time studies, but also to “fight” and “expose”. A great deal of attention was directed at polemics with “bourgeois” authors over their treatment of particular historical events or assessment of their work. Articles would be written, conferences would be organized and collective monographs would be published, all in an effort to counteract these other authors.145 In other words, so that the community of Lithuanian historians would not be caught off guard in the fight against their ideological opponents and start to adopt their insights, information regarding emerging processes in Western history was particularly limited. Circumstances for Vilnius’ historians in this respect were much more complicated than for their colleagues who worked in scientific institutions in the centre of the Soviet Union or in the people’s democratic republics. Compared to Moscow or Warsaw, Vilnius was considered to lie in the periphery and truly lived under information blockade conditions. This aspect was stressed in particular by those historians who had the opportunity to spend a lengthy amount of time in Moscow’s or Leningrad’s libraries during the Soviet period. As the lecturer from Vilnius University’s Faculty of History, Algirdas Vaitkūnas, who was preparing his doctoral candidate’s dissertation, recalls:

[In Moscow’s libraries] I read all sorts of “bourgeois” literature. While in Lithuania it was believed that such books had to be either destroyed or hidden away in the special collections. In Moscow, no one would have ever thought to behave in this way. If in foreign literature fascism was not being lamented or the Communist Party and the Soviet Union were not being criticized, then these books would be available to everyone […]. That’s why I must say that Moscow’s historians could access information of interest to them much easier than scientists working in Vilnius. “Bour- geois” literature in English, German or French was not so keenly hidden away, if it wasn’t anti-communist or pro-fascist. What’s more, interest in and reading of various books was encouraged in every possible way.146

The Soviet-era Lithuanian historiographical discourse was also impacted by various rules existing in Vilnius that divided historians into separate groups where the possibility of using the already rather meagre information resources amassed in Lithuania differed. Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 49 Ideology’s identification with methodology, the dominance of Marxist theory as the only correct and possible variant, the influence of censorship and self-censorship, as well as collective work all played a part in shaping another methodological feature of historiography – it did not allow the formation of schools. Was the absolute unification of a specific community of scientists, barring the emergence of any shoots of independent thinking, the overall aim of the Soviet science matrix? Yes and no. In the field of the natural and exact sciences, a degree of variety in thinking was tolerated, but in the case of the humanities, it was (most often) unacceptable. In 1979, in an article popularizing the sciences, the president of the LSSR Academy of Sciences expressed the idea that “any scientific agency conducting research studies cannot justify its existence if within them, original schools of scientific work cannot be formed”.147 This position, coming from a representative of the natural sciences, is understandable. In this and in the field of the exact sciences, certain schools were formed during the Soviet period and they managed to successfully exist – namely, scientific schools encompassing physicists, biologists, biochemists, chemists, technical scientists, mathemati- cians and physicians.148 One of the possible explanations for this situation is that because the entire body of Soviet science was merely an appendage to the all-mightily military complex, the exact sciences truly flourished during the Soviet period, while in certain fields of mathematics and environmental science, Soviet scientists were world leaders. Literary researcher Vytautas Ku- bilius makes similar arguments regarding the gap between the humanities and the natural sciences that existed in Soviet-era Lithuania.149 So as to have forward growth in the knowledge of history (and in the other sciences as well), a direct relationship between teacher and student is necessary, as is continuity of information and research skills, consistent work practices amongst researchers working together on the directional resolution of specific tasks using discussions and correct polemics, something that was clear already in the first half of the 19th century when Leopold von Ranke established the first history seminar at the University of Berlin.150 However, due to the mentioned complex of reasons, the Soviet-era historiographical discourse was indiscrete, and this concerned the historians who were engaged in its formation. On December 26, 1978 speaking at a meeting of the Institute of History’s primary Party organization, the chair of the Young Scientists’ Board, Albinas Visockis, urged that “work continuity be guaranteed at the Institute – so that a young person, having worked at the Institute for several years could say he was a student of, for example, Dr. Merkys, Jurginis or Vaitkevičius. A student not in the schooling sense, but in the broader sense”.151 Jučas identified the 50 Aurimas Švedas same problem during a meeting of the Institute’s Science Board on December 28, 1982: “Doctors of science and senior research fellows must take charge of their colleagues and create scientific schools. Now they feel alone, perhaps they have been overloaded with too much social work”.152 Not being able to apply different approaches in the official discourse, historians who had reached a degree of scientific maturity passed on to the younger generation a methodological primer, compiled of the key historismus paradigm accents, and fostered self-censorship skills in their students, as well as human decency. This aspect was mentioned by Vaitkūnas when listing his teachers:

First of all, I respect them very much as people. I was impressed that both Dundulis and Galvydis were not Party members. And the fact that during the Soviet period, one was brave enough not to join the Party already served as an indicator of his independent thinking. After all, at the time, the historians I have mentioned could not say many things openly. However, they were quite reserved in terms of Marxism and never forced me to stick in citations from the “classics” either where they were needed or not. Moreover, in some cases they even allowed themselves to ironically note: “Dear colleague, perhaps you are trying too hard…”153

Among those historians who were just starting out and still searching for their teacher, opportunities to make a conscious selection were often limited to scientists concentrating on specific periods or those who had written known representative works on a particular topic. However, even this act was made significantly more difficult due to the post-graduate system in place at the time, which did not always give the future candidate the freedom to choose their own research topic or supervisor. Despite the above remarks, some rudimentary historiographical schools did exist in Soviet-era history that point to fateful teacher–student relations amongst renowned scientists who managed to reach the height of their academic activity in the inter-war, Soviet and post-Soviet periods. These at first glance invisible links become evident by studying these historians’ autoreflex- ions that point to the influence of pre-war authorities in Lithuanian historiography – Konstantinas Jablonskis and Ignas Jonynas – on the first generation of historians to have reached maturity in the Soviet period. This can be confirmed by the generation’s most famous representatives – Merkys and Jučas. During an interview, in response to the question “Which historian did you consider to be your teacher?” Jučas replied: “Whilst I was a student, I was supervised Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 51 by Jonynas and later, Jablonskis. I’m not sure whether they considered me to be their student, but I certainly took their advice and opinions into account”.154 Meanwhile Merkys has expressed his relations with these scientists by compiling and writing an introduction and commentary to a collection of Jonynas’ texts155 and releasing a work about Jablonskis.156 In turn, the confirmation of Merkys’ colleagues (Vaitkūnas, Šidlauskas)157 and students (Aleksandravičius and Kulakauskas)158 point to the significant influence of this scientist and teacher on the nurturing of the new generation of Soviet-era historians. The concept formulated by Aleksandravičius and Kulakauskas, “Merkys’ positivist school”,159 enables us to comprehend on what notions this researcher’s school is based. There are more insights into the unique historiograpical school promulgated by Merkys, the rudiments of which can be traced back to the Soviet period.160 A closer look at the discourse of researchers of the past reveals that another person who constantly declared a unique approach to Lithuania’s history and challenged thinking unification processes was Jurginis (in fact, also one who experienced the strong influence of Jablonskis),161 and he also may be considered a particular school’s founder. This postulation is supported by the comments of his colleagues – Gudavičius,162 Šidlauskas,163 Gaigalaitė164 and Tyla:

The professor was constantly full of new ideas, he shared and discussed them. Perhaps this was a kind of side-tracked way of thinking, but it serves as a rather accurate explanation of Jurginis’ nature. […] Jurginis would come to our workplace just about every day and start checking his ideas: he would start explaining, proving and polemizing. Once he came and started talking about serfdom duties, another time it was some other important accent from his present work. He behaved this way in order to test whether his claims sounded convincing enough. Naturally, we rarely engaged in polemics with Jurginis – often we would just sit and listen. However, this was by no means an expression of our doubt in this person’s ideas. I think that that is how a group of like-minded thinkers is formed, when a more experienced scientist shares his ideas, doubts and searches.165

Another school of historic thought that started forming during the Soviet period was Edvardas Gudavičius’ school, which critically altered the Lithua- nian historiographical relief after 1990. This can be supported by an analysis of this scientist’s discourse, and the identity declaration of his students, first among them, Alfredas Bumblauskas.166 The beginnings of one other school 52 Aurimas Švedas can be seen in the Statutes research group, headed by Stanislovas Lazutka – this is suggested by the comments of Gudavičius167 and Valikonytė. Contem- plating the problem of historiographical schools from the Soviet period, she highlighted:

I would dare to distinguish the “Statute school”. This may be a slight overestimation. And besides, the structure of this research group underwent many changes. However, a group of like-minded scientists working on a specific topical field did exist.168

These initial schools stemming from Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography show that even the complete arsenal of measures designed to bring into unison historians’ way of thinking could not stop the spread of different methods or conceptual approaches. This enabled the beginnings of dialogue and polemic discussions in the historical discourse of the times, which is what created the conditions for the theoretical and methodological differences in Lithuanian historiography that developed after 1990.

The Typology of “Methodological Ideological Mistakes” in the Official Discourse. The Soviet system’s “supervisors” closely monitored the historians’ community to check that they would not stray from the general insights allowed within the official discourse or independently correct the commonly accepted depictions of the past, regularly inflecting the titles of the few most recurrent “mistakes”. This command-oriented principle of administrating historians and “monopoly on the truth” meant that historiography was formed not via scientific polemics, but by means of battling a specific “methodological ideological mistake”.169 When waves of criticism rose high, the historians of the day would often be accused of:

1. pandering to the West; 2. objectivism; 3. elevation (idealization) of the feudal past; 4. following the “united stream”; 5. nationalism.

These “methodological ideological mistakes” (when writing texts or criticizing them, this particular word combination was unexchangeable) were united by a common subtext: this was a clear signal that a particular author Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 53 was straying towards “nationalism”. If the word “nationalism” was ever used openly in passing judgement on an article or monograph, it meant that that historian was considered to be a serious “sinner” in the eyes of the system. Historians accused of “pandering to the West” were often those who had carelessly described the world existing beyond the “iron curtain”, or its social-economic structure, or had insufficiently tarnished its cultural or scientific life. Probably the most famous critique campaign for “pandering to the West” to have been launched against an historian during the Soviet period was aimed at Jurginis for his slur at the University of Marxism-Leninism in 1951 when the historian accidentally shared his memories from a trip abroad with his audience.170 “Pandering to the West”, according to critics, at best revealed a scientist’s ideological short-sightedness, at worst – their conscious apolitical, non-ideological, cosmopolitan orientation. In addition, accusations of “pandering” could be made not only against those who made careless descriptions of the West, but also those who had not heaped sufficient praise on their “big brother” from the East. This rather paradoxical conclusion can be made by examining the minutes of meeting of the Vilnius University’s Faculty of History-Philology Department of the History of the Nations of the USSR on January 5, 1950. Deliberating Budaveckis’ lecture on “Russian art in the first half of the 19th century”, the department members stated that “during the lecture there was gross pandering to Western culture, advanced Russian culture was not distinguished, nor were the folk roots of Russian art, or Russian artists’ fight for a progressive national art as a reflection of the class struggle”.171 “Pandering to the West” was rather rarely used as grounds for incriminat- ing historians,172 which is why their supervisors constantly found people they could diagnose with “tendencies towards objectivism”. Probably the clearest essence of this “heresy” has been conveyed by Jurginis, himself accused of this more than once: bourgeois objectivism lies in a text’s author’s chosen position to allow the reader to themselves reach certain conclusions during the course of the historical account.173 It was most often representatives of the older inter-war historiographical school who were accused of this “sin”, trying to avoid any direct association with perversions of the Soviet reality, non-participation in collective projects or carrying out ideological commissions.174 Researchers who had matured under Soviet-era conditions and tried to choose “internal emigration” into narrow topics or propagate the piecing of minute facts also constantly faced the threat of being accused of objectivism.175 By applying the accusation of “tendencies towards objectivism” the “supervisors” of the official discourse could rather successfully fight against thematic and chronological “escapism” processes. 54 Aurimas Švedas On the other hand, the ideological protection system that had been created for the Soviet system in many cases did not even require obvious evidence against a particular historian. Astute critics could come across “objectivism” even in an ideologically correct article or monograph where the author had inadvertently used (i.e., used without additional commentary) a citation from a “not completely reliable” author’s work or “objectivist resource” that had not smeared the historic reality with at least pink tones. As was already mentioned, “internal emigration” processes in Lithuanian historiography during the Soviet period were associated not only with the conscious decision to limit oneself to narrow topics, but also with the orientation towards research of early history. Regarding that the Soviet government and Party leadership saw all historical processes before the 20th century as a pre-historic lead-up to the events of October 1917,176 research of the Middle Ages and the Early Modern period was considered a kind of marginal field which was allowed to exist under the condition that it would serve the Par- ty’s socialist aims. Any attempt at demonstrating the distinct value of these eras, a more correct assessment of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, or simply an insufficiently skewed proportioning of the economic and political history of the periods in question (to benefit political processes) was under threat of being identified as “elevating the feudal past”. The synonym of this ideological sin was “idealization of the past”. This verdict would be handed down to those historians who dared to demonstrate a certain historical episode forgetting the “Party” scientific imperatives.177 Being accused of being a part of the “united stream” in 19th century history research studies was considered an especially serious accusation. This ideological concept caused great harm to not only the community of historians, but the entire community of humanities-oriented cultural researchers. In the end even Party representatives were forced to admit that the hunt for “united stream” followers was overdone. By the time the winds of change were already being felt, during the 19th meeting of the LCP (B) that took place on Decem- ber 19, 1989 the then First Secretary of the Party, Algirdas Brazauskas (later the president of independent Lithuania), admitted that the LCP (B)’s efforts to shatter the Lithuanian nation’s spiritual culture in accordance with class structurization “not only impeded the multi-branched science of history but also disorientated society”.178 The “united stream” ghost started haunting historiography amid a storm of critique that arose with the appearance of member of the Party nomenklatura elite, Justas Paleckis’, texts in 1947 and 1949, Tarybų Lietuvos kelias [The Path of Soviet Lithuania] and Советская Литва [Soviet Lithuania].179 The concept Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 55 of “ghost” is not just a metaphor in this case. “The united stream” is probably the most complicated accusation a historian who had fallen into disgrace with the Party could draw upon themselves, as it was the least understandable and thus it became difficult to clear one’s name. What was the meaning behind this combination of words? As Lithuanian literature researcher Vanda Zaborskaitė has noted, in creating a unitarian state, the USSR, the aim was to devalue the “nation” category, replacing it with “the people”. To this aim, the idea of a nation’s integrality had to be denied. It was claimed that this derivative could not even realistically exist as history revealed only a relentless class struggle.180 Soviet-era ideologues were unsparing with angry rebuttals directed at those who did not discern radical class conflicts in the historical development of the Lithuanian nation. This provision, according to one of the time’s ideologues – Mykolas Burokevičius – “stopped and enchained the intelligentsia’s creative powers”.181 The concept of a united nation was also dangerous to the Party leaders of the time in that it implicated the concept of an united culture, which made the implementation of the internationalist doctrine especially awkward for those who understood perfectly well that “two national cultures equal a na- tionless culture”.182 “United stream” accusations fell upon not only respected professors but also students barely making their first steps on the academic path. This concept received a great deal of attention at Party congresses and plenums. The ideological “deviation” of the “united stream” was discussed at the 6th Congress of the LCP (B) in 1949 and the 8th Plenum of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) in 1950. This issue re-emerged in the 15th Plenum and 7th Congress both held in 1952. Even though a break was taken after this time, historians did not have to face incrimination from the highest-ranking functionaries on the grounds of “united stream” deviation until the 16th Congress of the LCP (B) in 1971 and a Party nomenklatura meeting held in 1973. However, Vilnius University’s Department of Lithuanian Literature was accused of this “heresy” during the 5th Congress of the LCP (B) in 1958. Such a savage attack on followers of the “united stream” was determined by the lingering provision that “the denunciation of this reactionary theory was one of the most important preconditions for allowing the spread of a Marxist-Leninist worldview in the workers’ consciousness”.183 The historians’ “supervisors” genuinely lamented that this “heresy”, despite all their efforts, was still alive and well in Lithuania. In this case, the autoreflexion of Romas Šarmaitis is surprising for its sincere doctrinal open-hearted- ness. Having participated as a presenter at a Vilnius University conference in 1983 where the Aušra newspaper’s 100th anniversary, a publication of special 9/ 10 Accusations of “errors” and “heresies” during the Soviet period were most often fired at historian Juozas Jurginis on various occations. One of Jurginis’ persistent “errors” was “pandering to the West”. He had first-hand knowledge about the world beyond the Iron Curtain. Photographs from Jurginis’ travels in the United States in 1939. Courtesy of Julius Jurginis. significance to the 19th-century Lithuanian national revival, was mentioned, the Institute of Party History’s director sadly reflected in his journal on historian Rimantas Vėbra’s comment:

… [It] was made from a united stream position, promoting the bourgeois idea regarding national unity in a class-based society, i.e., unity between exploiters and the exploited so that the supremacy of the bourgeoisie might become entrenched. Saddest of all was that his announcement was followed by applause from higher education level Lithuanian studies faculty members. How persistent these bourgeois ideas still are among our intelligentsia!184 Characteristics of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography 57 The recurrences of the “united stream” made the ideological “supervisors” of the community of the researches into to the past feel ill at ease also watch- ing the processes unfolding among the émigré historians.185 In the fight against “bourgeois nationalism”, the Party’s leaders and ena- blers of its will also often demonstrated an overly diligent desire to recklessly apply “scorched earth” tactics. This was admitted even by the humanities “supervisors” themselves back in Soviet times,186 but it was not this fact that caused rising tensions in Soviet-era historiography or made up the details of critique campaigns. A closer look at the official discourse of the times and its contexts reveals that the most important ideological accusations against historians existed as rather abstract categories, the content of which could differ depending on the particular point of conjuncture. There was no indicator system as such, according to which a specific historian’s text could be defined as being “good” or “bad”; there were no explicit criteria in methodological articles that could have helped the community of historians avoid making dangerous “united stream” or “objectivism” manifestations.187 The measures to serve this purpose were often reminiscent of a parody of a seminar or lecture. Valikonytė’s experience whilst studying in the Faculty of History is symptomatic of this case:

The course was called “Critique of bourgeois nationalist concepts”. I would have to say that we were taught how to recognize and critique “heresies”. What’s most interesting is that we were taught to analyze texts where these “bourgeois nationalist” concepts were found without even having the chance to examine them. All these texts were kept hidden in the special collections… Students had no chances of ever seeing them. On the other hand, I strongly doubt whether the lecturers themselves had ever seen those books that they had rub- bished. You could say that this course involved basically the repetition of certain clichés.188

Certain instructions or recipes that changed the nature of the official discourse were usually handed down from the highest Party officials. One or several phrases from the first secretary (often non-specific and open to -var ious interpretations) would become a canon that historians were obliged to conform to and repeat in criticism of their colleagues. Incidentally, this was the case due to the particularities of not only historians’ but all humanities specialists’ work. As Alfonsas Maldonis, senior editor of the Vaga publishing house in 1962–1970, noted: 58 Aurimas Švedas

All of this would come from above, often marked “Top Secret”, so the chief was not only deemed closer to God, but closer to his truth as well. The last chief in line, the Great Leader, and only him, knew the whole truth. […] So if someone ever thought to ask for an explanation why something had to be written particularly so, and no other way, it would suffice to point at the sky and repeat that famous saying: “That’s the opinion!”189

The inexistence of any clear instructions in the Soviet-era historical discourse is also evidenced by witness accounts of repressions against the innocent. These repressions would be organized by the Party leadership in order to keep scientists in the proper “state of ideological awareness” and also in fear. Gudavičius has termed this tactic the “krypteia method”:

The Party understood perfectly well that it was incapable of controlling everyone and everything. That’s why it would apply the Spartan cryp- tic method. Having enslaved the Helots, the Spartans could rarely en- visage whether any tensions, opposition or insurrections were brewing amid their captives. So they would simply rationally calculate how many young men there were among the Helots. Once in a while, there would be some “blood-letting” amongst them. Thus, armed Spartan youths would keep guard near Helot villages, and sometimes a number of Helots would simply disappear… Similar “krypteia” were organized for Lithuania’s researchers of the past. In this case it was totally irrelevant whether the victimized scientist was working in an “idealogically correct direction” or not. A verdict would simply be handed down that something was “ideologically faulty”, while articles “elevating the feudal past” would be erased from periodical journals. After some time the situation would reach a degree of normality. Then, heads would be set to roll again.190

The strict “science policy vertical”, operative official discourse protection mechanisms, a misleading body of rules based on which historians’ texts would be designated as “good” or “bad”, a constant state of stress in the historian community, scientists’ intellectual and existential “masks” worthy of Franz Kafka’s plume – such are the external and internal characteristics of Soviet-era historiography, rapidly deteriorating into extinction, as revealed in documents and witness accounts from this period. CHAPTER 2

Formation of the It is true that Official Historical some of my comrades felt Discourse (1944–1956) insulted by the criticism. They might feel slighted by my criticism as well. It is difficult to weigh criticism in grams – what’s a spoonful more or less. With us Bolsheviks, no one was ever really indulged a great deal. We would learn from one another. If a comrade fell over, I tell him: here’s my hand – take it and get up; if you don’t want to take it, I’ll get you up by the hair. If you don’t want that either, then stand aside.191

Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 61

The formation of the Soviet-era Lithuanian historiographical discourse was akin to a harsh polemic process of spiritual coercion and mask (self)creation. In this chapter, we shall look at this process through the eyes of certain figures, asking which individuals or actions thereof, which tensions and conflicts, be they provoked deliberately or not, are considered by scientists significant in terms of the creation of the historical discourse during the Soviet period. Based on this follows another, already retrospective, question: do the general political and socio-cultural schemes and turning points in the development of Sovi- et-era history apply in the development of the science of history in Lithuania? The question about the actions of certain figures and the tensions they created in the public space is not accidental. In their own interviews, a number of humanities scientists who were active in their day highlighted that according to the science policy of the time, regardless of all the ideological barriers and historiographical “boundary markers”, the positive or negative activities of specific figures was particularly important, and that sometimes only they can be used to explain one or another historiographical particularity, and thus reconstruct the reasons that determined these particularities. In other words, the features of Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography need to be reconstructed as researchers of the past were forced to hide their theoretical, methodological and ideological orientations behind “ideologically and politically correct” rhetorical formulae – masks. Under such circumstances, when the masterful application of ideological canons and the ability to conform to ideological requirements was contrasted with the ability to raise bold questions and form original insights, things like “heresy”, “revolts”, conflicts and the “ideological methodological” tensions they created take on particular significance to researchers of the history of Lithuanian historiography. It is especially important to be aware of as many premises as possible that allowed any viewpoint to be formed that opposed the official discourse. During the first period of Soviet-era historiography four independent discourses may be distinguished where there were attempts at shaping history that eventually became cause for tensions, “heresies”, “revolts” and criticism. The LCP (B) leadership’s view of the past and Žiugžda’s (the “voluntary hostage”) activities are what we would consider to be expressions of the official discourse. In opposition were the remnants of the older generation of pre-war historians (“lost in time and space”: Konstantinas Jablonskis, Ignas Jonynas and Augustinas Janulaitis), “ideologically oriented” individuals (Povilas Pakarklis 62 Aurimas Švedas and Stasys Matulaitis) and the initiatives of Justas Paleckis (“an outsider who wanted to do small, good deeds”). The intersecting and dividing opinions of these people, the tensions they raised and the ever-growing pressure of the official discourse created Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography as it was and determined its future development.

Position: Factors that Formed the Discourse Activities of the Central Committee of the LCP (B)’s “Voluntary Hostage”. The influence on Lithuanian historiography exacted by the long-standing (1948– 1970) director of the Institute of History, Juozas Žiugžda, was immense. The administrational career curve of this historians’ “supervisor” was always on the rise. His excellently acted neophyte-like enthusiasm in carrying out the Party’s orders and his ideologically-pristine posture visible at various forums and government offices did not go by unnoticed by the new employers of this former Lithuanian language teacher. Such was the description of the then deputy People’s Commissar of Education in the LSSR given by a member of the revolutionary movement, signaller for the Central Committee of the LCP (B) in independent Lithuania and Žiugžda’s co-worker in the Commissariat, Li- uda Vaineikytė, on January 10, 1941 in a prepared notice: “A work horse. Of the three responsible figures, he does the most work. He doesn’t appear to be insincere, yet his nodding leaves a bad impression. He reads a great deal of Soviet pedagogical literature”.192 Writer Antanas Venclova, who was in close cooperation with Soviet Lithuania’s leadership, was inclined to agree with Vaineikytė: “He knows how to handle his tasks in a considered and planned manner. Education is a field he is familiar with and he handles these tasks with dedication. Considering the particularly rapid rates of extending these education-related tasks in the Soviet Union, I doubt anyone else would have been able to do as much as he has”.193 The Communist Party knew how to be gracious and generous to its unconditionally loyal servants – Žiugžda consistently, step by step, neared the summit of the politics of science, gradually earning more and more privileges as well as becoming the deserving recipient of the title of “the black chronicler” in the eyes of the public.194 This glowing halo was not so easy to bear – the director of the Institute of History received direct threats over the manipulation of Lithuania’s history.195 What were the premises that created the Žiugžda phenomenon and formed his attitude towards Lithuania’s history? This was a man who held no firm Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 63 political convictions or went by a particular worldview – Žiugžda’s political orientations, much like his membership in various parties, changed many times during the inter-war period.

In the eyes of the Communist Party leadership, individuals lacking in firm principles served to prop the installation of the Soviet order in Lithuania. In this regard, literature researcher Vanda Zaborskaitė who worked at the Insti- tute in 1962–1971 under J. Žiugžda’s direction had this to say:

I think that during the Soviet period Žiugžda caved in to a much greater degree than, say, Korsakas [director of the Institute of the Lithuanian Language and Literature, 1946–1984], you could say, he gave in completely. He decided to become a historian serving ideology and politics. I would even guess that in his case, it was his career aspirations that were most prominent.196

Yet, one fact from Žiugžda’s biography – his close cooperation with the Lith- uanian Nationalist Union in 1937, becoming a member of this Party – forced him to not only obediently carry out all the orders received “from above’, but to also feel a constant threat to his existence (during the Soviet period, members of the Lithuanian Nationalist Union were considered one of the most ardent enemies of the Soviet system). Žiugžda’s “flirtation” with the nationalists in Soviet Lithuania was a publicly known secret. His deputy, the historian Mat- ulaitis, mentions this biographical fact about the Institute of History’s director in his journal, not sparing words of criticism about the latter:

Žiugžda became close with Lithuanian nationalists under Smetona’s protection, and had even signed up to the Nationalist Party, but then the Russian communists brought their army into Lithuania and took over actual control of the government. Žiugžda broke all ties with the nationalists and started expressing himself more as a communist, a sub- servient toad to the communist aggression, and started blowing the Russian chauvinist trumpet, becoming the Minister for Education in the now subjugated Lithuania.

Matulaitis exposed this information to the Ministry of State Security of the Lithuanian SSR.197 Analyzing Žiugžda’s situation and the latter’s obvious desire to ingratiate himself with the Communist Party elite, during an interview, long-serving 64 Aurimas Švedas staff member of the Institute of History, ethnographer Vaclovas Milius, also highlighted some compromising facts:

Incidentally, Žiugžda’s situation was not so simple either. […] Žiugžda needs to be considered as a kind of hostage. After all, in the inter-war period Žiugžda was a director, whereas the underground communists were locked up in jails. When the Soviets came along, the undergrounders would remind Žiugžda of this episode: “You were like a lord, meanwhile we had to be in jail”. Plus, one other detail. There was a Jew, Baronas, who worked in the Academy library special collections department, and during one of the Academy’s Party meetings he stood up and showed everyone Žiugžda’s application to join the Nationalist Party. You should have seen Žiugžda sweat blood, in order to survive; he had to change over to the left side.198

This feeling of insecurity created the “voluntary hostage of the Central Com- mittee of the LCP (B)” phenomenon and provoked Žiugžda into coming up with new declarations of “ideological loyalty” as well as radical deformations of Lithuania’s history. The highest levels of Soviet Lithuania’s government were also aware of Žiugžda’s cooperation with the Nationalists. On February 17, 1950 in a special memo from the Deputy Minister of the Ministry of State Security of the Lithuanian SSR (MGB), A. Leonov, to the Head of the 5th Directorate of the Ministry of State Security of the USSR, Colonel A. Volkov, regarding political distrust of Žiugžda, then the vice-president of the LSSR Academy of Sciences, it is stated that:

Our source “Aleksandrovski” announced that Žiugžda established close ties with the Nationalists in 1937, released articles in the government periodicals Tautų mokykla [The School of Nations] and Mokslo dienos [Days of Science]. In a number of articles he promoted Lithuania’s President Smetona and the achievements of the bourgeois education system. This data can be confirmed by the material received from Mat- ulaitis, and by the evidence given by the arrested leader of the Nation- alist Party, Cesevičius.199

Žiugžda had indeed publicized several articles in the publications mentioned in the memo. In one of them, the future high-ranking Soviet functionary had plenty of nice things to say about the leading figures of the Lithuanian national revival, Jonas Basanavičius [1851–1927, the editor of the first Lithuanian Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 65 newspaper Aušra [The Dawn] that was in publication in the years 1883–1886] and Vincas Kudirka [1858–1899, ideologue of the Lithuanian national liberation movement], called the occupation by tsarist Russia a “harsh winter” and urged young people to “discipline themselves” and to “heed the authoritative will of the supreme leadership in the country”.200 In the Soviet period, this article alone would have sufficed for the individual who so blatantly complimented Antanas Smetona’s regime to be added to the list of “untrustworthy elements”. That is why it comes as no surprise that the Party’s leadership kept a wary eye on Žiugžda’s activities. Further evidence lies in a notice from 1953, which also gives an account of Žiugžda’s “tally of sins”.201 Sensing the sword of Damocles hanging over his head, the Institute’s director went to all efforts to ensure that his actions “on the frontlines of the ideological battle” would appear beyond reproach. As historian Aldona Gai- galaitė has noted that the institution’s “annual and other reports compiled by Žiugžda were of a very high ideological level, featuring eloquent formulations with references to being guided by one or another congress, plenum or some other meeting’s resolutions or orders”.202 In his administrative activities, Ži- ugžda was guided by several provisions: the various tensions arising in the institution, attempting to resolve “methodological ideological” and personal conflicts without publicizing the problems, and making sure that the Insti- tute’s staff were not aware of criticism made against him or the institution itself. Incidentally, as a result of Žiugžda’s discreet balancing policy, the Institute’s Party organization sometimes felt left out of important decisions (according to the logics of the science policy of the time, the Party organization was meant to play an especially significant role). By keeping to this manoeuvring tactic, Žiugžda tried to create the impression that he was an ardent guard on duty in the name of the Party’s science, who was honest in carrying out his orders and had made the correct interpretations of Marxist doctrine. This show was further enhanced by the fact that the Institute’s director aimed to control all the scientific work being conducted at the institution,203 and took on the task of writing on particularly complicated topics from Lithuania’s past himself.

Needless to say, this tactic bore fruit. To those who did not belong to the Soviet-era community of Lithuanian historians, Žiugžda came across as the most savage “politruk of Lithuanian studies research” and “spreader of Soviet propaganda” who had usurped the monopoly of truth in historiography.204 However, the official picture of Žiugžda was not completely in line with reality. During the first stage of the Soviet period, he was under constant criticism and usually humbly acknowledged his mistakes and repented. 11 Juozas Žiugžda’s career in Soviet Lithuania gained momentum when he started working in the field of education. LSSR People’s Commissar for Education, Juozas Žiugžda (first row, third from left) with high school graduates of 1946 in Ukmergė. Courtesy of Arvydas Vaitkūnas.

The reproaches that fell upon Žiugžda in the criticism voiced against him, both as a high-ranking science functionary and as a historian, were not mis- directed. The first form of criticism in this case is only so relevant as it can reveal Žiugžda’s situation on the “science politics vertical scale” and help explain some of his actions in forming the official historical discourse. As was mentioned, Žiugžda constantly felt the attentive eye of the Party on him and often received reproaches: in the 15th Plenum of the LCP (B) that took place on November 29, 1947 Sniečkus criticized Žiugžda as the leader of the Minis- try of Education,205 and during the 6th Congress of the LCP (B) in February 1949, the first secretary again heaped reproaches on Žiugžda as the director of the Institute of History as, according to Sniečkus, this institution “had still not properly approached all the most pressing problems in the Lithuanian nation’s history”.206 During the 4th F. Dzerzhinski district Party conference that took place on July 3–4, 1950, it was stated that the Academy of Sciences’ primary Party organization was not doing a proper job, and that this institution har- boured numerous science cadres with a “suspicious past”. Žiugžda was affected by this criticism as he was the Academy’s vice president and secretary of the primary Party organization.207 In 1953 during the Academy of Sciences Party Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 67 organization’s annual report, it was noted that the director of the Institute of History was “not raising the future Lithuanian national history cadres properly”.208 And the list of similar critical assessments of Žiugžda’s work goes on. In the criticism of Žiugžda as a high-ranking science functionary and as a researcher-forger of history, a clear demarcation line should be drawn between his demonstrated juggling of “Marxist critique and self-criticism” on various occasions and serious insinuations that in at least one case undoubtedly indicated that the director of the Institute of History could either lose his post, his privileges, or even more. Žiugžda received criticism as a historian for his insufficiently critical assessments of Basanavičius’ character in an article that appeared in the February 18, 1947 issue of Tiesa [The Truth].209 The Institute’s director had to later publicly correct his opinions voiced in the article and admit he had erred. In a later article in Tiesa, dated to October 25, 1950, Žiugžda now portrayed Basanavičius as a supporter of tsarism, manor lords and the reactionary clergy, and identified his positions as “strongly chauvinistic”. The article featured a postscript:

My article titled “Jonas Basanavičius” in the February 18, 1947 issue of Tiesa failed to draw attention to the ties of J. Basanavičius and Aušra [The Dawn] he edited to reactionary bourgeois nationalist activity, and to stress the fact that J. Basanavičius supported the selfish class politics of the Lithuanian bourgeoisie, contributing to the entrenchment of the bourgeois dictatorship in Lithuania.210

This kind of step is especially important in order to understand the structure of Žiugžda’s character and his abilities to remain flexible and radically change his opinions whilst engaging in “Bolshevik self-criticism”. The text that appeared in the 1950 issue ofTiesa meant Žiugžda avoided accusations of following the “united stream” that were at the time heaped upon the Soviet public and political figure Paleckis, and at the same time made it possible for Žiugžda to contribute to the harsh criticism of this person (in other words – to take up the “right” position at the right time).211 Much more serious criticism of Žiugžda (in terms of the potential outcomes) was related to the chronically late submission of general summaries of Lithuania’s history. The Institute’s director was criticized for this fact at the 6th (1949) and 7th (1952) congresses of the LCP (B). Žiugžda’s name was often mentioned during a meeting of the Vilnius intelligentsia that took place on June 2, 1952 as well, where Sniečkus basically repeated what had already been said during the 7th Congress of the LCP (B): “Up until now, the 68 Aurimas Švedas wider circle of historians’ activists has had almost no input into the preparation of the Lithuanian history textbook, which has significantly delayed the completion of this work. Serious organizational shortcomings have still not been eliminated at the Institute”.212 Žiugžda had to bear similar unpleasant reproaches during the 5th and 8th plenums of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) held in 1953. During the 5th Plenum of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) held on June 11–13, 1953 Sniečkus’ critical comments directed at the Institute of History firstly related to this institution’s faults that became apparent at a meeting of Baltic historians,213 while during the 8th Plenum held in December of that same year, the gathered participants again raised the issue of the lack of a summarizing text on Lithuania’s history. The LSSR’s Minister of Education Stasys Pupeikis noted that the inexistence of a Lithuanian history textbook meant teachers could “consciously and unconsciously distort historical facts”; he was seconded by the secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B), Vladas Niunka.214 Dissatisfaction over the fact that the Institute was incapable of supplying a synthesis of Lithuania’s history was expressed by the public as well. Even though the public letters directed at Žiugžda that were sent to newspaper editorial boards were never actually publicized, the Party knew of their existence. Probably the most cutting intonations aimed at Žiugžda came from a public letter written by Girša Abramavičius, Algirdas Rakūnas and Lev Vladimirov to the Tiesa editorial board in 1955. Its authors stated that summarizing works had already been released by the Latvians, Estonians and Belarusians. Even “Buriat-Mongolia that prior to the Great October Revolution did not know of a single book printed in its native language managed to release in 1954 a thoroughly scientifically presented and richly illustrated first volume of its nation’s history”. Following this particularly sarcastic comment was a very unpleasant conclusion about Žiugžda:

Is the Institute of History and Law incapable of preparing a history textbook? We would not like to believe that our republic’s historians are that incapable. We think that the problem lies not in capability, but in the issue of principles in applying Marxist thought to history and leadership in general at the Institute of History and Law in the preparation of a history textbook.215

A more temperate example of criticism is the letter by A. Driukas published in the Komjaunimo tiesa [Communist Youth Truth] in 1956, where the author notes that earlier issues of Lithuanian history textbooks have been removed Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 69 from circulation, and rhetorically asks what source should be used to satisfy school students’ thirst for knowledge regarding Lithuania’s past.216 The Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau’s influence on Žiugžda was not limited solely to the disposal of compromising data or constant, periodical criticism. During the first stage of the development of Soviet Lithuanian historiography, there are several moments where the Central Committee actively interfered in the lives of historians and formulated important decisions regarding science policy. The first was the resolution passed on June 17, 1951 during a meeting of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau “About measures for the elimination of shortcomings in research on the Lithuanian nation and the history of the Lithuanian Communist Party”.217 This resolution stated that the Institute of History was unsatisfactorily implementing the resolutions of the 6th Congress of the LCP (B), and that the leadership at this institution had made many errors or performed its tasks badly – the institution’s staff had not been organized into a system, insufficient attention was given to qualification raising issues, and that the work allocation policy was irrational. In addition, the Institute’s leadership had aimed to write the Lithuanian history textbook all by itself, thus not only ignoring the best historians in the republic, but aiming to do so without a plan or outline for this task.218

From the nine points outlined in the resolution of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau from its meeting on June 17, 1951 regarding the Lithu- anian Institute of History, the most important would be:

1. The Presidium of the Lithuanian SSR Academy of Sciences should assemble the Institute of History in an organized manner, creating three sectors: history, archaeology and ethnography. The number of staff at the Institute of History must be increased by three or four members. 2. This Presidium should assemble a body of staff for the mentioned sectors at the Institute of History from qualified science researchers, drawing on the republic’s finest historians and teachers. 4. To ask the Presidium of the Academy of Sciences of the USSR to recommend a candidate historian to take up the position of deputy director at the Lithuanian SSR Institute of History, as well as one ethnographer. 5. The directorate of the Institute of History should revise its scientific research work plans and focus primary attention on the preparation of a Lith- uanian history textbook for secondary schools; but ensure that the scientific research work plan be completed according to the set schedule. 70 Aurimas Švedas 9. To focus the attention of the Institute of History’s directorate and the Academy of Sciences Party organization on the necessity of comprehensively improving their political education work, as well as the qualification of scientists and science candidates.219

This resolution issued by the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau demonstrated the particularly difficult position Žiugžda found himself in: the Party’s leaders were not satisfied with the situation – in 1952 the history of Lithuania that was independently written by the Institute’s director in Mos- cow was rejected,220 and the KGB was collecting compromising information about him. In the earlier mentioned special announcement by the LSSR MGB Minister’s Deputy, A. Leonov, of February 17, 1950, Žiugžda’s links to the Na- tionalist Party were of secondary importance. In this notice, the primary accusation made against the Institute’s director was that the institution under his control was not performing adequately, and that his appointment as the Minister of Education was overwhelmingly sabotaging the “transfer of Lithua- nian SSR schools into the Soviet education system”.221 According to witnesses from the time, plans were afoot to dispose of Žiugžda,222 and what saved him was the intercession of the First Secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B), Sniečkus.223 The years 1950–1952 were a fateful time for Žiugžda. Having retained his post, he avoided other such radical trials. The resolution passed at the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau’s meeting on May 24, 1954 regarding the release of the Lithuanian history textbook should not be viewed as a direct threat to the Institute of History’s director, but more as an attempt at hasten- ing the preparation process of this summary. In this resolution, the Lithua- nian Institute of History and Ministry of Education were obliged to prepare for publication the long-awaited secondary school textbook by the end of 1954. Meanwhile, the Political and Scientific Literature Publishing House was ordered to release this textbook no later than by the end of the first quarter of 1955.224 Moreover – this interference by the Party’s leadership became the guarantee that the initiative from 1956 to change the Lithuanian historiography discourse would fail, and that the concepts being created by Žiugžda would become the basis for the official version of Lithuania’s history. (To learn about the attempts to edit the discourse being created by Žiugžda and even to challenge him, see pp. 104–114). What are the most important characteristics of Žiugžda’s history politics, which had a direct impact on Lithuanian historiography? He unreserv- edly distanced himself from the community of historians of independent Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 71 Lithuania and all that it had achieved, and in creating a version of Lithua- nian historiography that would satisfy the requirements of the Communist Party, according to Žiugžda’s colleague and constant opponent Jurginis, his main goals were to:

1. Emphasize the pope’s negative role in the Crusades in the Baltic region and to “unmask” Christianity as an ideological cover for feudalism’s expansion into the East; 2. Stress the Russians’ importance in Lithuania’s history (in terms of the cultural cooperation of nations, Lithuanian feudalists’ “reactionary policies” in trying to secure Russian land within their own state, and the positive aspects of Lithuania’s incorporation into Russia in the late 18th century); 3. Use class struggle arguments to explain the Uprising of 1863 and Lithu- anians’ fights against national oppression; 4. Embed the concept of the 1918 “proletariat revolution” in Lithuania.225

When analyzing Žiugžda’s actions and their results in the sovietization of Lithuanian history, attention should be given to the Institute director’s autoreflexion in a speech given at a conference that commenced on January 25, 1954 in Vilnius that was organized to discuss the draft of the first volume of the history of the Lithuanian SSR. This speech should be considered as the most adequate source expressing Žiugžda’s historiographical aspirations. He outlined the most important tasks that Soviet historians had to tackle when writing academic history.226 And Žiugžda felt personally responsible for the implementation of these tasks. As part of his distortion of the main episodes in Lithuania’s history, the primary tasks that Žiugžda foresaw (for himself and the Institute’s collective) were:

1. Accentuation of the manufacturing power and the development process of manufacturing relations in Lithuania’s history; 2. Stressing the concept of class struggle; 3. Tackling the issue of Lithuania’s unions with Poland, exposing them as the outcome of a “collusion” devised by Lithuanian and Polish feudalists.

The accents of most significance compiled by Jurginis and Žiugžda himself – the contrasting of Eastern and Western civilization in Lithuania’s history naming Russia as the “positive factor”, masking the spread of statehood in Lithuania’s past using class struggle rhetoric, and the deceitful changing of key dates of importance to the Lithuanian nation from the 20th century according 72 Aurimas Švedas to Soviet historiography – all these became essential elements in Žiugžda’s discourse that sharply distorted the most generally henceforth accepted version of Lithuania’s history and instead formed the new Soviet historiography.227 In addition, Žiugžda closely followed the research conducted at the Insti- tute of History, ensuring that it served the legitimization of the Soviet reality, which was why most attention was focused on the “watershed” events of the 19th–20th century and the description and elevation of the Soviet present. Back in 1947, criticizing the efforts of the prior director of the Institute of History, Pakarklis, to concentrate on medieval period research, Žiugžda stressed that “coworkers of the Institute of History were turning away from the present too much. Historians must not forget that research of the past should not obscure the present”.228 This same provision was uttered by Žiugžda during a meeting of the history sector on March 2, 1954 where the History of the Lithuanian SSR short course plan was being discussed. As questions arose over the proportions of lecture material, the director did not allow discussions to get into full swing: “number of pages cannot be increased, while questions must be proportionally increased the closer the material gets to covering the present times”.229 Another provision that Žiugžda used as a basis for his Soviet Lithuanian version of history was his especially perfunctory and critical approach to the Grand Duchy of Lithuania which he cynically declared once disputes arose over its assessment. During a meeting of the Institute’s Science Board in November 1955 where the Lithuanian SSR short course was being discussed, the director of the Institute of the Lithuanian Language and Literature Korsakas announced:

I am not satisfied with the treatment of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. There are not even any diagrams from this period. […] Our historians say that they are writing the ethnographic history of Lithuania. These same objectives are being raised by Belarusian and Ukrainian historians. But here we are faced with a paradox – the history of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania falls out of context. […] In my opinion, its history must be covered by Lithuanian historians. After all, in principle, Lith- uania’s past cannot be understood without an analysis of the history of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. The treatment of this period simply as an expansion of feudalism is nothing more than an oversimplification.230

Žiugžda’s response to Korsakas’ critique came in the shape of one “argument” that not only expressed his attitude to the problem being discussed, but also questioned the validity of the matter raised by Korsakas: “The existence of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania gives us no reason to be proud of our history”.231 Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 73 By continually trying to distort the depiction of Lithuania’s history during the Soviet period, Žiugžda went to a lot of effort so that Lithuanians would not even have the chance to become proud of their history.

The Axiom of Jupiter and the Oxen. The Moscow factor, as the centre of the Soviet state, catalyst of Soviet society’s processes, “supervisor” and the citadel keeping alive the ideologized science matrix, had a critical influence on the official historical discourse being formed in Vilnius. This influence was expressed in several (sometimes contradictory) aspects. The research paradigm for Soviet-era research on the past was created in Moscow, and the most important “historiographical boundary markers” were drawn there as well, which for scientists working in the Union’s republics had the status of unquestionable and unconditionally repeatable axioms. Moscow kept a close eye on the communities of historians existing in its “governorates” and controlled them via visits made by various commissions and consultants and the organization of common events. These measures were designed to identify, localize and eliminate “central cores of heresy”. The preparation of the first synthesis of Lithuania’s history was watched with particular vigilance from the empire’s centre.232 Various commissions would make regular visits from Moscow to check up on the Academy of Sciences’ work233 and deliver very specific “recipes” in the field of science policy. Gudavičius reveals this aspect quite well:

Our greatest supervisors were professional historians. I recall how ethnographers would talk amongst themselves: “Look, Terentjeva [Lyudmila Terentjeva, 1910–1982, Russian ethnographer] is due to arrive soon…” This professional knew perfectly well how to supervise and “look after” her colleagues in the republics. In truth, talking about research on the feudalism epoch, I couldn’t name one single supervisor; however, there truly were people who would oversee the course of scientific research work. Perhaps Floria [Boris Floria, b. 1937, Russian historian] could count as one of these supervisors. Although I personally had no contact with him, his name was constantly mentioned: “But what will Floria say?”234

Various tensions would also be raised by CPSU Central Committee resolutions, plenum and congress directives, that set off waves of “communist criticism and self-criticism” in the republics, waves which often washed over scientists as well.235 74 Aurimas Švedas The smooth-running control mechanism created in the empire’s centre not only put a stop to any daring initiatives, it also clearly defined the boundaries of competency of historians working in the peripheries. This formulated the hierarchial system of research topics that had to be abided by in the “governorates”. Lithuania’s historians were meant to understand that “that which is permitted for Jupiter is not permitted for the oxen” (Quod licet Iovi, non licet bovi): decisions were made in the centre regarding the number and field of specialists to be prepared, and what thematic horizon they should be allowed to cover. Control of the former’s science policy levers was in the hands of Mos- cow, giving it the right to pass determinative decisions on the formation of the official Lithuanian historical discourse. The most telling example of the regulation of these competencies would have to be the issue of the formation of the Lithuanian state, which the community of Vilnius historians was only granted the right to cover following the release of the work by Russian historiography authority Vladimir Pashuto in Moscow, which contained the guidelines for further discussions about the genesis of Lithuania’s statehood.236 This attentive and multi-faceted supervision from Moscow not only stopped the genesis of any bolder insights, it also (however paradoxical this might sound) did not allow the local “supervisors” to totally caricaturize the depiction of Lithuania’s history. This “positive prevention” function was carried out by historians from the empire’s centre in 1952 when Žiugžda presented his personally prepared summary of Lithuania’s history. Commenting on this decision by Moscow’s historians, Jučas had this to say:

Naturally, there was enough Marxism in Žiugžda’s text, yet in a factographical sense, the text appeared too weak. Another significant factor which led them to this conclusion was also probably the fact that over in Moscow they didn’t want to become a laughing stock over its western republic’s scientific production in front of “people’s democratic” countries or the West. Scientific prestige came into play – this shoddy version of history was not fit to be published.237

The historians’ schools from the empire’s centre that carried a much greater intellectual potential and freedom to act as they wished, not to mention their unrestricted volume of information, compared to the Union’s republics, performed the role of idea “windows” (the second such “window” was Warsaw). Historians working in Vilnius had to go to rather great efforts to access information from library special collections which the centre’s historians could use with hardly any restrictions. This disproportion, as well as deeper 12 Juozas Žiugžda’s Moscow-appointed deputy, Grigorij Koniu- chov, visiting Krakiai (Kėdainiai district) in 1954 as part of an In- stitute of History scientists’ ethnographic expedition. Courtesy of Angelė Vyšniauskaitė. scientific roots, determined that for historians from the Union’s republics, general conferences and symposiums often became not only a time to report back to “big brother”, but also served as an impetus to raise their qualification – to adopt new ideas, methods and theoretical approaches. Innovative insights that would appear in Russian scientific periodicals served a similar role. Egidijus Aleksandravičius has made an accurate comment on this situation: “Without deliberately reverting to loud theorizing, in Lithuania, researchers searching for methodological immunity could often more or less successfully use claims from Russian semi-official newspapers”.238 The situation that unfolded in the Soviet period, where Moscow’s influence could be not only negative but also positive on Lithuania’s historians, has been expressively described by Vytautas Merkys talking about the phenomenon that was Eastern European agrarian history symposiums:

These events were very influential on the community of Lithuanian historians that was just starting out, and encouraged them to take a different look at the fact of history itself. During these symposiums, the application of the statistical method was quite concertedly promoted, as it allowed the historian to first take in the entirety of facts and only 76 Aurimas Švedas then proceed to a summary. The opposite was not acceptable – to latch on to an idea and then gradually “fluff it up” with various examples. This was a frequent occurrence amongst researchers of the past who would base their work on historical materialism.239

The axiom of Jupiter and the oxen proved to be effective in terms of both the negative and the positive impact of Moscow on Vilnius.

Opposition I: The Challenge Posed by the Older Generation of Historians (“Lost in Time and Space”) Disassociation, Non-Participation, and Being Apolitical. During the Soviet period, Lithuanian historiography formed independently of the pre-war school of historians’ prior achievements, removed from the protection of those “reactionary ideas”240 and the “poison of nationalist ideology”.241 Those historians of the older generation that had not fled to the West soon found out that their pre-war methods and ideology-rich goals were not a value in the Soviet science model, but instead the most direct way to making various ideological mistakes. Researchers who had matured in independent Lithuania were viewed with mistrust, and their “bourgeois” past and “socialist” present would be scoured for compromising material. Several general characteristics can be identified in the behaviour of these adherents of historism in the face of such an existential and professional challenge (which in summary could be defined as the “lost in time and space” behaviour model):

1. The generation of older historians aimed to disassociate itself from the perversions of the Soviet reality by not participating in various general projects, and took an apolitical stance; 2. Researchers constantly, consciously or not, doubted the official discourse and would thus fall into disrepute amongst the supervisors of historians; 3. Scientists used to working in a democratic scientific atmosphere tried to influence Soviet-era historiography using correct statements or accurately selected quotes of the “classics”, thereby attempting to avoid schematism.

The first behaviour model to arise in the face of sovietization – disassociation, non-participation, being apolitical – is called the attitude of “the silent ones” in Lithuanian historiography.242 It predominated amongst the post-war 13 Konstantinas Jablonskis (left) and Juozas Jurginis shared a bond as teacher and student, later they were associated via colle- gial and idea-orientated bonds. Courtesy of Julius Jurginis. intelligentsia – ideologues of the time openly talked about their difficulties in forcibly suggesting Marxist-Leninist theory to the Lithuanian intelligentsia, its refusal to obediently repeat postulates of the “classics” or to instill them in the younger generation. The most prominent attempt by the older generation of historians to distance itself from less-than-satisfying projects and initiatives was their position regarding the writing of the Soviet synthesis of Lithuania’s history. On June 14, 1950 during a joint meeting of historians from the Institute of History and Vilnius University, one of the most authoritative inter-war Lithuanian historians, Jonynas, suggested to “start this text from the examination of separate historical issues and sources, as this has not been done yet, so there can be no talk of preparation of a systematic course, which is why the Institute of History must proceed with this study from the writing of individual mono- g r a p h s”. 243 We can only guess as to what extent this stance taken by Jonynas was determined by his historical methodological orientation (the goal being to progress from the examination of specific topics on to the vision of an ideal synthesis) or whether it was the result of his conscious decision not to participate in conjunctural projects. Žiugžda’s reaction was especially sharp:

If we all thought like Prof. Jonynas the writing of this textbook would have to be postponed to the twentieth Five-year plan, yet its preparation 78 Aurimas Švedas is a Party objective. We must mobilize all our forces in order to complete this task and there is no basis for feeling helpless as we have the assistance of Our Party, the Soviet government and the USSR Academy of Sciences Institute of History.244

Jonynas once again expressed his doubts over the forced scientific project during a meeting of the Institute’s research board on January 14, 1952, where he questioned how realistic it was that the work deadlines could be met, and noted that the parts of text that were already completed were inadequate – they presented “inaccurate facts”. The Institute’s director had to once again oppose his colleague by reverting to demagogy: “The deadlines are realistic because we do not have to resolve all the problems that arise, whereas we do need to prepare this textbook. As for the facts, it is not worth mentioning all of them. This work has to be a summary”.245 Naturally enough, this kind of approach to a particularly important activity urged the older generation of historians to doubt whether this was the right time for writing a synthesis and to simply distance themselves from the task. Discussing the Institute of History’s work results for the year 1952, Žiugžda was forced to bitterly state that Professor Jablonskis had refused to participate in the preparation of the summarizing course.246 This stance by the pre-war historians to most definitely distance themselves from the writing of the synthesis of Lithuania’s history was also noted by Jurginis, who reflected on these events from a perspective created over ten years: “The older historians, of which there were but a few, were left to simply take a neutral position and focus on the ‘innocent’ topics from early history. […] I remember well what Prof. Ignas Jonynas said once he heard what Ži- ugžda had planned, as the Institute’s head and editor of the systematic history of Lithuania project. He said: ‘My dear colleague, this work is being started from the wrong end. There are only a few historians, but many discrepancies. First monographs must be written, and only then can we tackle the writing of a systematic course’”.247 In truth, if Jonynas’ (and others’ who were also “lost in time and space”) position appeared unjustified to Žiugžda, then Jurginis was inclined to be in agreement:

The first volume of theHistory of the Lithuanian SSR was the one that had the toughest task ahead. […] The question was serious and the suggestion to proceed from the writing of separate monographs was completely logical, but unacceptable. The writing of a comprehensive, Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 79 source-backed history of the republic was not only a scientific task, but also a critical political matter.248

The older school of professors not only tried to avoid carrying out conjunctural tasks, it also often openly demonstrated that it had no intentions of contributing to the training of new, properly indoctrinated and “ideologically reliable” generation of scholars. During a closed meeting of the Vilnius University Party organization held on January 10, 1948 regarding the matter of raising the level of ideological work, it was stated that “we cannot overlook the fact that up until now, not all of the older professors have joined the Soviet way forward. They are still enormously affected by the past, which is why often, the professors make it clear they have no desire to help educate the younger cadres. The appointment of professors as consultants is of no use, for example, Jonynas goes to various lengths to avoid offering serious consul- tation to Gentvilas on the latter’s work and refuses to loan him his books on the relevant topics”.249 This distancing tactic failed however, as in the opinion of the “supervisors” of Soviet science that was history, it led to “apolitical” and “objectivist” deviations. For his attempts to ignore the transformations taking place in history, the older generation historian Augustinas Janulaitis received probably the harshest criticism. During the 15th Plenum of the LCP (B) on November 29, 1947 Sniečkus noticed that, under the cover of his apolitical principles, this scientist had turned to research of the “grey past” and had on no occasions participated in discussions regarding the most significant issues in Lithua- nia’s history. Having made this statement, Sniečkus ironically noted that in pre-war Lithuania Janulaitis had not taken such a strictly apolitical position and had in fact written a text where it was stated that “the communists want to destroy the Lithuanian state”. The First Secretary of the Central Commit- tee of the LCP (B) had in mind Janulaitis’ 45-page booklet titled “Lithuania and contemporary Russia: what is contemporary Russia, and who is its leader, how is it being ruled, what has Lithuania experienced thus far, and what is in store ahead”, released in 1925 in Kaunas.250 This speech by the “caretaker of Lithuania” set off a chain reaction – during the Academy of Sciences general meeting on January 12, 1948 Juozas Matulis noted that “amongst us there is more than one Janulaitis, this so-called advocate of apoliticism, exponent of the so-called ‘objective’ science who does not want to genuinely adopt Marx- ist-Leninist ideology and take part in our creative work”.251 At the following day’s meeting the “guilty” historian had to acknowledge his mistakes and “declare loyalty” to Marxist doctrine according to the finest traditions from 14 The 100th-year anniversary of the birth of Augustinas Janulai- tis, an authority on the inter-war Lithuanian community of historians, was commemorated at the Institute of History in 1978. Courtesy of the Lithuanian Institute of History.

George Orwell’s novel 1984.252 At the January 13, 1948 meeting, Janulaitis was forced to “admit” that the book mentioned by Sniečkus was a mistake on his part. He went on to define his relationship with Marxist theory:

Regarding approaches to history, as I see it, and as per the Central Com- mittee’s resolution, history is a political science. I keep this in mind all the time and a majority of those historical studies have been prepared according to that aim. In terms of method, I believe that I am a Marx- ist. […] In truth, that may not be overly obvious from my works, as I rarely cite but instead apply a position or method, without necessarily declaring it.253

The older generation of historians had to constantly bear reproaches of being apolitical, lacking in ideas, and ignoring research on issues that were Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 81 important to the Party elite. At the Academy of Sciences general meeting held on March 28, 1947, criticizing the Institute of History’s activities, Ži- ugžda remarked that “Prof. Jablonskis had made too few commitments”.254 At a meeting of Vilnius University’s scientific board on November 18, 1948 the vice-rector Jonas Bučas stressed that in Prof. Jonynas’ lectures “there was no political sharpness and students were not being educated in a Marxist-Len- inist spirit”.255 The same historian was scolded again on June 30, 1952 during a meeting of the Department of History of the USSR in Vilnius University’s Faculty of History-Philosophy, for “systematically avoiding making a clear public statement – in the press or at public secessions – on relevant agonistic issues in the evolution of history…”256 All of these reproaches that were constantly heaped upon the most authoritative historians of independent Lithuania by Soviet science adepts and “supervisors” are testimony of the desperate efforts of these scientists to maintain a correct relationship with the material they had to present or examine, and their attempts to avoid conjunctural decisions. However it was impossible to completely distance oneself from the sovietization of Lithuanian history. Pre- war historians had to adapt to the new situation and participate in scientific and pedagogical activities. These attempts often resulted in ambiguous outcomes that can be termed as challenges to the official discourse that set off new waves of criticism.

Conscious and Unreflected Challenges. An example of a clear and conscious protest against the falsification of the past would be Jonynas’ behaviour on October 23, 1948 during a meeting of the Department of History of the USSR where the diploma work of student Faivas Levitatsas “The Lithuanian Commu- nist Party’s Struggle Against the Fascist Government in 1934–1936” was being discussed. Countering the author, Jonynas’ speech began with a quote from Cicero about researchers of history having to make objective assessments of the past.257 Disagreeing with Levitatsas’ claims, Jonynas questioned pre-war Lithuania’s complete economic and political dependence on foreign capital, and also criticized the graduate student’s desire to show that President Smetona’s regime had banned all manner of workers’ organizations. This position maintained by Jonynas when deliberating the diploma work of a hardened communist was discussed at the University board meeting on November 5, 1948 where a resolution was passed in which Jonynas’ comments were viewed as “anti-scientific” and “anti-Marxist”, “politically erroneous” and stinking of “bourgeois Nationalist ideology”.258 During this meeting, the “impudent” miscreant was 82 Aurimas Švedas forced to give a short lecture on what bourgeois objectivism was and how it should be counter-opposed, as well as to acknowledge his mistakes: “Today I am here to declare whether I was or was not loyal to Marxist-Leninist requirements in science. I say this honestly – I was not”.259 “Repentance” followed. The person who was writing the meeting’s minutes noted:

He is sorry for his mistakes, he knows he has committed a sin, in losing his sense of self-control; he created the impression that he was defending the fascists. This is dangerous and unacceptable of a professor. That is why he condemns his outburst and adds that by learning from his errors he will be able to revert to the Marxist attitude and become a useful individual.260

However this “repentance” came too late to hold back the avalanche of criticism that followed. Jonynas’ behaviour was discussed at meetings of the departments of World History and the History of the USSR, detailing what preventative measures would be taken to avoid similar ideological mistakes in the future.261 Information about the historian’s challenge soon reached the First Secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B). On November 6, 1948 Sniečkus made an entry in his notebook:

Prof. Jonynas, head of the History Department at Vilnius University, when discussing Levitatsas’ dissertation said that Lithuania was not dependent on foreign imperialists, and that it maintained relations on an equal footing with other states, i.e., that he was promoting bourgeois Lithuania’s so-called independence. Jonynas’ behaviour was deliberated at a Vilnius University senate meeting where it was unanimously condemned. Nevertheless, on the eve of the anniversary of the October Socialist Revolution, he was presented with a LSSR Supreme Council Certificate of Honour. This is very bad. All the more so, as Jonynas has made a number of vague comments in the past.262

The wrathful Sniečkus condemned the professor who liked making “vague comments” in a speech given at the 6th Congress of the LCP (B) that took place on February 15–18, 1949: “Some disciplines are still being taught from rotten bourgeois objectivist positions. Bourgeois ideology still comes across in the activities of certain professors. For example, quite recently, in his assessment of a diploma work, Professor Jonynas described bourgeois Lithuania’s independence from a bourgeois-nationalist position”.263 Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 83 The fact that Jonynas publicly acknowledged his “mistakes” saved him from losing his job. This possibility was actually debated during a meeting of the Vil- nius University Party organization bureau, where it was decided that Jonynas’ dismissal would “not look good”. In light of the circumstances, Jonynas’ constant opponent Žiugžda took a “kind-hearted” view: “This had been the first time I saw him down on his knees: he had never agreed with me before. He is very knowledgeable, but there is no question that he can no longer head the department. He cannot lecture on Lithuania’s history, but he may give lectures on the History of the USSR before the 18th century. I believe that he wants to work, not to cause more harm”.264 Regardless of this “generous verdict”, Jonynas was now constantly enveloped in an atmosphere of distrust and intolerance. At a meeting of the Vilnius University Party bureau held on July 21, 1950, during a discussion on the pedagogical staff working at the institution, historian Valentinas Neupokojevas stated: “Jonynas has gone quiet, but preferably, it’d be better if he retired”.265 As was mentioned earlier, Jonynas, Janulaitis and Jablonskis came within the range of the radar of the historians’ “supervisors” not only due to their apolitical stance, but also because of their consciously delivered challenges. Analyzing these scientists’ situation and behaviour, it would have to be said that researchers who matured in a correct scientific discourse environment would often simply be at a loss of what to do in various situations and could not find the most suitable way of adapting to the new conditions, i.e., they did not understand when and where to lie, to exaggerate, or to stay silent on certain facts. In the opinion of Jučas who had many opportunities to work with representatives of the older generation of historians, inter-war Lithua- nia’s historians gradually realized that learning to apply Marxist rhetoric was an unavoidable condition for wanting to remain in research of the past: “it would be a great lie to say that Jonynas or Jablonskis did not try to be Marxists. They did try. In both Jonynas’ and Jablonskis’ comments there is evidence of t h i s”. 266 This claim is illustrated in a detail about Jablonskis from the memories of another scientist, Lithuanian studies researcher Vladas Žukas: “Rim- antienė [Jablonskis’ daughter] remembers a time when his university lectures were attended and discussed. Returning after one such lecture, he was pleased to have quoted Karl Marx where it actually was needed and suitable. His lectures were nevertheless intensively criticized, and one day the professor returned home severely depressed”.267 These kinds of situations were repeated continuously. In 1946 during one lecture, speaking about how the Lithuanian state was formed, Jablonskis “forgot” about the class-based nature of this formation: this kind of “negligence” 84 Aurimas Švedas was condemned at the highest Party forums – making a speech at the 11th Plenum of the LCP (B) on November 22, 1946, Sniečkus was not sparing of critical comments against Jablonskis.268 In March of 1949, giving a lecture on the foreign policies of Russian tsar Ivan III and his efforts to create a cen- tralized state and unite the Russian lands, Jonynas made the comparison to the government of the Soviet Union that had inspired analogous processes. Colleagues who had participated in this lecture and later discussed it in the Department of the History of the USSR had to stress that such associations should not be made, as “the Soviet Union is not the successor of Ivan III’s policies; it is different to all earlier states”, that is why at the end of the lecture “the progressive role of creating unity and analogies to the USSR should be highlighted”.269 Jonynas “hit and missed” on November 17, 1950, participating in a staff meeting of the Institute of History organized to condemn Matulaitis and to critique his written part of the Lithuanian history textbook (to read about the reasons why Matulaitis was criticized, see pp. 92–97); when trying to fit into the general tone directed by Žiugžda, Jonynas found places in the text deserving criticism:

The author does not explain the Samogitian national movement of the early 19th century or its causes. The causes given by the author are incorrect. Comrade Matulaitis has extrapolated that the movement of the late 18th century arose under the influence of the Great French Revolu- tion. But this idea needed to be associated to not just the Samogitians, but to Aukštaitija as well, and so on. The causes lie in social relations. Samogitia’s nobility had attained a higher level of economic development, capitalism flourished more rapidly amongst the Samogitians, which in turn influenced their movement.270

Formally, the “order” had been completed (i.e., a word of criticism had been expressed); however, summarizing the critical comments that were made, Žiu- gžda had to add: “The comments made here are in effect correct. Certain comments, such as those by comrade Jonynas about the Samogitians’ movement, are another matter altogether, but in general, the comments are correct”.271 Not yet used to the ideological requirements, Jablonskis made a similar error. At an Institute meeting on April 18, 1950, all the staff had to criticise Jurginis’ periodization model of Lithuania’s history.272 Jablonskis also “carried out the task” of participating in the meeting, but instead of criticizing Jurginis, he proceeded to criticise historian Zoja Kutorgienė who used to write scientifically hopeless, yet “ideologically correct” texts: “It would be wrong to see the introduction Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 85 of the Soviet government in Lithuania in 1940 as a mere renewal on the former Soviet government of 1919. In 1919 there was only a nucleus of the Soviet order. That was when the Lithuanian and Belarusian Soviet republics were created, but no act refers to the revival of this republic in 1940. Therefore the establishment of the Soviet government in 1940 must be seen as a new step”.273 Žiugžda recalled this statement by Jablonskis with a sour taste during another meeting of the Institute’s directorate, when within a narrow circle (consisting of Žiugžda, Jurginis, Kutorgienė, Pranas Kulikauskas, Kostas Petrulis, Marga- rita Vymerytė) attempts were made to reach a verdict without any witnesses:

A reminder that the Institute’s Directorate, the Party organization and the Professional Labour Union must be united when principal matters are to be deliberated. This united opinion must be implemented in work as well. Whereas that discussion lacked criticism and was not in the spirit of self-criticism, and as a result comments like those by comrade Jablonskis become possible.274

When analyzing the features of the older generation of historians’ discourse, it should also be mentioned that the tactic of disassociation and challenging the status quo was sometimes replaced with efforts to correct specific “over-sovietized” images of the past. Such attempts at challenging the overly schematic theses almost always balanced on the verge of “heresy” yet cleverly selected argumentation (a quote from Lenin, Marx, Engels or simply reverting to common sense) often protected speakers from being attacked by the opponents: these are the beginnings of the third type of behaviour.

An Attempt to Question the Schemes While Still “Playing by the Rules”. During a conference held on April 1–3, 1952, where the periodization model of Lith- uania’s history was being discussed, Jablonskis attempted to oppose the division of the feudalism epoch into three stages – early, mid and late – basing his arguments on Joseph Stalin’s work “Marxism and Matters of the Science of Language”.275 This unquestionable “theoretical alibi” made it possible to not only doubt the suitability of Pashuto’s suggested scheme for Lithuania’s history, but to also express the “heretic” idea that feudalism in Lithuania was qualitatively different from how feudalism evolved in Russia (not to Russia’s benefit).276 This historian had on numerous occasions decisively opposed the schematization and distortion of the past, balancing along a fine line, beyond which lay a hotbed of unmerciful criticism and accusations of “heresy”. 15 Only one inter-war historian managed to find a relatively safe work niche and avoid direct confrontation with the system. Bro- nius Dundulis (first row, centre) with a group of the Faculty of History students of 1951 who studied world history. Courtesy of Arvydas Vaitkūnas.

However, as was mentioned, the type of argumentation chosen by Jablonskis often allowed the scientist to avoid this pitfall. Reviewing parts II and III of the short course of the history of the Lithuanian SSR in September, 1954, he touched on an especially dangerous topic in Lithuanian-Russian relations. Jablonskis dared to doubt the fundamental postulates of Soviet-era historiography concerning the eternal friendship between Lithuanians and Russians, the negative significance of the joining of Russian lands to the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, and the underlying contribution of the Russians in the victory at the Battle of Grunwald.277 Another successful attempt at opposing the schematization of history would also have to be Jablonski’s speech on July 16, 1952 in Vilnius regarding Volume I of the history of Poland. Concentrating on chapters V–XIII that covered early feudalism, Jabslonskis stated that the text’s authors had made an overly schematic depiction of the situation of how large-scale feudalists recklessly took away land from their peasants.278 If such statements or written comments failed to rupture the armour of lies that was gradually encroaching on depictions of Lithuania’s history, they nevertheless had to demonstrate their irrationality and intrusion. The creators of Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 87 Soviet science and its supervisors were perfectly aware of this situation and, finding the right opportunity, did not hesitate to “return” the gesture by subtly criticizing those who had dared to speak out using various modes of un- pleasantness. So what was the actual impact on the official discourse (aside from its discreditation) of the position maintained by Jablonskis, Jonynas and Janulaitis, representatives of pre-war Lithuania’s school of historians? In order to answer this question, several things must first be assessed. The older generation of historians was deliberately isolated, its influence was restricted by directing them towards “ideologically safe” fields of work, not allowing them to present “complicated” courses. Historians with a “bourgeois past” were closely watched, and some of them were even at threat of facing repressions. The transfer of the traditions fostered by the pre-war Lithuanian school of historians to the younger generation was impeded by not just their isolation, but also the fact that during the first stage of Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography, an environment ready to receive this wisdom had not yet been formed. Discussing the situation from that time, Jučas noted: “Not one of us was allowed to research early history. Only later did the younger ones spring up as if from nowhere. But in the beginning, we were forbidden from working in this field for a couple of decades”.279 That is why we could only mention one-off cases where teacher-student relationships were formed that could guarantee a positive and effective hand- ing-down of the older generation’s influence. The behaviour models of the older generation of historians discussed here could not have a strong impact on or change the official discourse, but, as Merkys noted: “The older professors were a fragile link that stopped professional history from crumbling away”.280 We can only imagine the resilience this mission demanded of our pre-war authoritative historians, the realization of which required them to come to terms with new existential and professional aporia on a daily basis.

Opposition II: The Stance Taken by the “Ideologically Oriented Humanists” The Failed Attempt to Orientate the Institute of History towards Correct Research. Analyzing the differences between opinions and behaviour from the first stage of Soviet-era historiography, it is the stance taken by the “ideologically oriented humanists” that deserves special attention.281 The most prominent 88 Aurimas Švedas representatives should be Povilas Pakarklis and Stasys Matulaitis. Pakarklis attempted to redirect the Institute of History’s work away from satisfying the demands of the Communist Party and towards performing correct scientific research. Meanwhile Matulaitis tried to create an “uprising” against the domination of Žiugžda’s official discourse and the transformation of the scientific discipline of history into ideology’s servant. Pakarklis’ input as a researcher of the past is today viewed ambiguously, yet he was not a narrow-minded doctrinaire, ready to blindly carry out the Par- ty’s demands.282 One who had travelled a long road of discovery (in terms of both his worldview and professionally), this was a communist who had without obliquity declared his pro-Lithuanian attitude and worked in the field of Lithuanian studies. After the war, Pakarlis participated in archaeological ex- peditions in the Kaliningrad district during which the manuscripts of Kris- tijonas Donelaitis and Motiejus Pretorijus, two cultural historical figures of particular significance to the Lithuanian nation, were discovered.283 A lawyer, historian and regional history researcher who occupied high posts during the Soviet period, he devoted much of his free time to recording Lithuanian dia- lects in Belarus and the Vilnius region. Many a contemporary has noted the differences between Pakarklis and Žiugžda. Jučas’ remark is symptomatic: “Even though Pakarklis was a communist and an atheist, he was still a Lithuanian”.284 A fragment from Merkys’ recollections supplements the observation made by Jučas: “And when I had the chance to work with him, Pakarklis gave me this piece of advice: ‘Write, work, and little by little you’ll be able to do the job as it should be done’”.285 The unique and independent stance taken by Pakarklis became apparent soon after his appointment as director of the Institute of History. This is evident from the institution’s scientific research work plans, where, despite the Party’s requirements, the main focus was on the publication of sources, folklore collection and research of early Lithuanian history. Fifteen major themes were described in the Institute of History’s work plan for 1946–1950, of which more than half disclosed the Institute collective’s leaning towards “objectivism” and the “exaltation of the feudal past”.286 The direction this work took did not find favour with science “supervisors”, which is why, already on September 25, 1946, during a meeting of the Academy of Sciences Presidium where the work of institutes of the Social Sciences Department was being discussed, most critical comments were aimed at the institution headed by Pakarklis. At the meeting it was stated that the Institute did not make up an ideological collective, which is why there was no clear “united, leading line” – his colleagues were seen to be working on irrelevant topics, and the director was not maintaining Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 89 regular contact with the Bureau or the Presidium and had forgotten that “research science cannot be apolitical”. After listing these transgressions, it was decided “to issue a strict warning to the Lithuanian Institute of History’s director Pakarklis regarding his negligence and lack of political vigilance that has brought the Lithuanian Institute of History to its current state of disrepute. Comrade Pakarklis must be ordered to eliminate and repair the shortfalls and mistakes that have appeared in the Institute’s work, and to operatively manage research work conducted at the Institute”.287 The director informed his colleagues of the situation on October 7, 1946 during the Institute of History’s meeting which was replete with self-critical comments. Informing the collective about the situation, Pakarklis noted: “… both he, as the director, and all the other staff must study Marxism-Leninism where they can: whether at the University of Marxism-Leninism, or elsewhere. […] The second shortfall is the selection of topics. Work must proceed on the most relevant topics, topics must be chosen from the Soviet period”. Naturally, all these statements received unanimous endorsement.288 Despite the “ideologically correct” self-criticism that he expressed during the afore-mentioned meeting, at the Academy of Sciences general meeting that was held in March, 1947, Matulis highlighted that “the Lithuanian Institute of History’s plan contains too many topics about serfdom, about the Prussians, while there is very little about the new periods; this is not normal”.289 He was seconded by vice-president Žiugžda, who made the dramatic summary: “The Institute of Lithuanian History has been appointed with major objectives, but it is not capable of realizing these objectives”.290 The stance taken by Pakarklis as director was further complicated during the LCP (B) 15th Plenum on No- vember 29, 1947 where the improvement of ideological work was being discussed. First secretary Sniečkus outright scolded historians during his main speech at the plenum: “Today, the Marxist Lithuanian nation’s history has still not been written. Scientific, Marxist coverage of the history of the Lith- uanian nation, and the discreditation of falsifications in Lithuania’s history are the most pressing tasks before Lithuania’s historians. And how are these tasks being handled by the Academy of Sciences’ Institute of History? To date, not even the first stage of collecting archival data has been completed. […] An apolitical mood lacking in ideas and avoidance of relevant topics prevails at the Institute. […] Responsibility for the situation that has unfolded at the Institute falls on the institution’s director, Pakarklis. Prof. Pakarklis shows no interest in raising the political, ideological level of his co-workers and sets an apolitical example”.291 This was no longer “communist criticism” but a verdict that the speeches of other plenum participants who presented even more 16 Povilas Pakarklis was someone who embarked on a long journey of discovery (both in terms of worldview and in the professional sense). Pakarklis (second row, second on right) at an In- ternational Temperance Society congress in Switzerland in 1934. Courtesy of the Library of the Lithuanian Academy of Sciences.

critical comments only fortified. Senior editor of the Tiesa [The Truth] newspaper Genrikas Zimanas, speaking about the Institute of History, noted: “This Institute is still more of an archive than an institution of scientific research”. Paleckis meanwhile, related his own negative experience in working with the culprit facing all this criticism:

I sent comrade Pakarklis someone who could collect material on contemporary topics, for example, on bourgeois Lithuania. But comrade Pakarklis replied that if this were material about the 14th–15th centuries, then matters would be altogether different. The work being done at this Institute must be reviewed, as comrade Pakarklis has fallen into the Teu- tonic knights’ epoch and cannot climb out of it. By working with historical material, one cannot simply distance themselves from the present time, this is unacceptable and such practices must be brought to a halt.292

On January 13–14, 1948 during a session of the Academy of Sciences general meeting where the results of the LCP (B) 15th Plenum were being discussed, Pakarklis attempted to at least partially explain the existing situation (regarding the lateness of the synthesis of Lithuania’s history, the lack of politically relevant Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 91 research and problems in assembling a collective) and by laying out his arguments, he also drew attention to the tension that was growing between him and Matulis and Žiugžda.293 This speech given by Pakarklis reveals not only different interests, ambitions and the divide between science policy concepts, but it also came across as a poor tactic on the speaker’s part, a failed example of “communist criticism and self-criticism”. His harshest opponent Žiugžda jumped at the opportunity, adding that “the session’s speech by the director of the Institute of History and member of the Academy of Sciences, Pakarklis, was particularly discordant. In the beginning he acknowledged the accuracy of the criticism he received at the 15th Plenum, yet the remainder of his speech gave the impression that that acknowledgement was merely a formality”.294 This point of reference allowed Žiugžda to launch into a new discussion on all the “sins” committed by the director and the collective under his leadership, and the Academy of Sciences meeting ended up passing a resolution that reflected very poorly on Pakarklis.295 His days as director were numbered, while his science policy was unrelentingly criticized as being “apolitical and non-ideological”, swamping his collective into the “leftovers of bourgeois ideology” and encouraging “individualism”.296 All of these “sins” essentially unveiled Pakarklis’ pretences to having his own, independent approach to history and the Institute’s activities, as well as his incapability of adapting to conjuncture. Attempts to reconstruct Pakarklis’ approach based on the mentioned factors in most cases goes only as far as a hypothesis. A draft of a speech he planned to make in front of his colleagues in 1947 helps gain some understanding of his position. The director first of all stressed discipline, dutifulness and showing initiative, and especially loyalty to a given institution:

Do not soil your own nest. Try to defend the Institute: if the Institute is under attack, it makes it worse for everyone else there. There should not be any desire to rise above whilst tarnishing the Institute’s name; tarnishing a specific department in the Institute, or consciously attacking the director or a colleague in the name of seeking a career opportunity or acting in the interests of one’s department.297

Unfortunately, Pakarklis’ wish to assemble a united, aware collective unafraid of taking initiative was not meant to be. In the end, the Institute’s director was himself forced to admit that he was not suited to hold a leadership position. Writing in his journal in 1948, noting comments about the Institute of History staff and the institution’s work, Pakarklis wrote: My“ personal attributes: I thoroughly enjoy searching for antiques, and writing, it is something 92 Aurimas Švedas that I am good at. I am not particularly good at administrative tasks. […] The Institute is a very large institution: even though I spend more time on administrative tasks that do other directors (writing out accounts, reading notices, etc.), it still doesn’t pan out as it should. I have many ideas, but I forget the details. This wasn’t helped by the fact that I did not have any assistants (an administrative manager, a deputy science secretary…)”. And sensing that he was soon to be ousted from his post, Pakarklis tried to plan out his future: “If the director were to be an authoritative person, I would prefer to be the director’s deputy for scientific matters. […] I have come to enjoy history, I have put a lot of work into the Institute, and I wouldn’t like to go over to the legal field”. In truth, deliberating the possibility of his harshest opponent Ži- ugžda taking up his position, Pakarklis did not hide his scepticism: “I would find it difficult to work alongside comrade Žiugžda. […] comrade Žiugžda’s and Korsakas’ psychophysical constitutions are very different from my own. What appears to be forbidden to them, I find no problem with from a political aspect. What appears unscientific to them, I find the opposite is true [original emphasis – A. Š.].”298 In the developing configuration of a totalitarian society and a unified scientific discourse, Pakarklis’ people of a certain “psychophysical constitution” had to give way to those who were the complete opposite of the intractable director of the Institute – people who had figured out exactly what the Party or a specific situation required, and who were prepared to meet these demands without any scruples.

The Idealist Rebel’s Last Fight. An exemplary “ideologically oriented humanist” amongst the Soviet-era historians was Stasys Matulaitis. Having participated in the activities of the Lithuanian Nationalist Movement, later joining the social-democratic movement in Lithuania, and following that, joining the ranks of the Bolshevik Party, not to mention having experienced persecution at the hands of the tsarist and Smetona governments, Matulaitis did not appear trustworthy to the Soviet leadership. This assessment was based on his non-conformism, his lack of fear in expressing his opinion, which often came across as rather blunt. “We do not consider him a real Bolshevik”; “he has made many mistakes by leaning to the right on many issues” – such were the descriptions of Matulaitis made by his colleagues in various “internal use only” notices.299 It is no wonder then that during the Great Purge that shook the Soviet Union in 1937, Matulaitis was arrested and deported from Minsk (where he lived in 1927–1937) to Kazakhstan where he remained until 1945. Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 93 Having returned to Lithuania and becoming a member of the scientific staff at the Institute of History, Matulaitis constantly adhered to the usual tactics: he polemized vigorously, publicly declared his loyalty to Marxist doctrine on many occasions, and encouraged his colleagues to go to all efforts to apply it in the field of history.300 Soviet science functionaries Matulis and Žiugžda viewed Pakarklis’ removal from the director’s post as a sign heralding the beginning of essential changes about to take place in the field of research of the past. Speaking at the LCP (B) 6th Congress on February 16, 1949, Žiugžda painted the activities of the Institute of History in particularly bright colours, claiming that he had “fundamentally reformed its activities, re-orientating the latter from focusing on medieval issues to the most relevant topics today, related to the research of the Lithuanian nation’s historical development”.301 During the Academy of Sciences general meeting on June 22, 1949, discussing the last year’s activities and the imminent plans, Matulis stated that a major breakthrough had occurred at the Institute of History, as “the new leadership had reorganized and strengthened the Institute’s cadres, revised the research work plans, making them more relevant, and had started putting in place the potential for collective work at the Institute”.302 Meanwhile Matulaitis, keenly observing the changes taking place within the Institute, had a completely different opinion. Assessing the situation in his journal when Žiugžda was appointed director, and argumenting the case for his own response as to why he dared to speak out at the Academy of Sciences general meeting, Matulaitis wrote:

… The stagnant pond was calm: whoever could, lied, presented unre- alistic plans, praised the Soviet Union and their devotion to it, all the while never actually implementing those plans, then glossing over them in some way in reports. Sometimes the writing wasn’t all that bad (but those you could count on the fingers of one hand). The majority would write works on the side, for a fee. A classic representative of this kind of speculation was the great profiteer himself – Žiugžda. He would write these hack job articles where the objective was the elevation the “great Russian nation” and its saviour-like role in influencing and helping the Lithuanian nation throughout its entire early and contemporary history. These days this genre is an ideal way of pleasing those government Rus- so-nationalist-chauvinists sitting in Moscow, whereas to our chumps in the higher echelons of Lithuanian government that chauvinism was like a dogma which they had to declare and implement to the letter. 94 Aurimas Švedas That tasteless bootlicker Žiugžda’s diligence and profiteering filled me with such disgust that I couldn’t help myself.303

The “idealist rebel’s” D-day was foreseen to be November 10, 1950 and he was ready to speak out. During a morning session of the Academy of Sciences general meeting, the new Institute director reviewed the last year’s activity results of the institution he was in charge of, when Matulaitis took the floor. Agreeing with Žiugžda that the history sector was rather weak, the “rebel” stated: “Speaking for myself, I work as much as I possibly can. I am, if I may add, a tried and true Marxist and I would not make any Marxism-related errors, but ideological errors might occur”.304 These were prophetic words, as what Matulaitis said was later viewed not only an unfounded opinion, but also as contradicting the Communist Party line. Looking back, we could add that in Lithuanian Soviet-era documents you will not find another provocation to the “supervisors” of the science of history or forgers of the past as biting as this one by Matulaitis.305 Questioning the competency of the new director, Matulaitis explained to the congress participants what trou- bled him most:

Regarding the writing of the history textbook, I have this to say; if all continues as it is now, then the textbook will not be written by us here. At blame here is the organization of our work. […] comrade Žiugžda has written many pieces, he has written many historical works, but comrade Žiugžda treats the Lithuanian nation as if it were invalid, that in all fields, economic and political, the Lithuanian nation gets everything that is of any good from elsewhere. This reflects badly on not just historians, but on everyone else. It gives rise to scepticism of historians and raises the question whether it is worthwhile taking an interest in history at all, if the nation is no good either way. Regarding the brochure “The Lithuanian nation’s relations with the Russian nation throughout the course of history” – much can be said about this work. It contains many erroneous points. According to comrade Žiugžda, Lithuania’s accession to Russia was a merciful act that improved the situation of the serfs. But historical documents show otherwise. […] All in all, I want to say that comrade Žiugžda is going to great lengths to always demor- alize the Lithuanian nation.306

Žiugžda’s reaction was lightning fast. Stepping up to the platform, he brought out the “heavy ideological artillery” in his speech, thanks to which Matulaitis’ Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 95 ideas were made to come across to the auditorium as “nationalistic slander”. In Žiugžda’s opinion, the blame for the textbook’s lateness lay in the “inadequate ideological level of the authors, and the remains of their unrealized capitalist ideology”. Meanwhile Matulaitis’ thoughts where he alleged that Ži- ugžda was demoralizing the Lithuanian nation were “incorrect, destructive and reactionary”. Such assessments, in Žiugžda’s view, had come about because “Matulaitis did not understand the development of the history of the Lithu- anian nation, he did not know and did not want to know these progressive factors that were being expressed in the Lithuanian nation’s history”.307 After a break the evening meeting began where Matulis, summarizing the session’s results, seconded Žiugžda, saying that the recent outburst was no more than a “nationalistic intervention”;308 following immediately was an announcement from the staff of the Institute of History where the critical comments made by Matulaitis were said to be an “expression of a nationalistic mood” that the collective “dismissed on all accounts and was hereby categorically distancing itself from him”.309 But there was more to come. A staff meeting was held at the Institute of History on November 17, 1950 during which the collective went over the part of the Lithuanian history textbook that had been written by the “nationalistic upstart”, which covered the period from 1812 to 1905. Dur- ing this meeting, Jurginis was assigned to be the “black opponent” (i.e., the one who had to criticize his colleague’s activities with abandon): discussing the text in great detail, Jurginis claimed to miss expressions of Party positions and instead noticed a digression towards bourgeois objectivism and nationalism.310 Other participants at the meeting were also generous in their criticism, while Žiugžda masterfully linked a summary of the complaints to the “fault” in the textbook and Matulaitis’ speech during the Academy of Sciences general meeting:

In the textbook, your view of the Lithuanian nation’s relations are presented to have developed practically in isolation from Russia and Rus- sians, and now, following your nationalistic outburst, I must draw the conclusion that this must be the general direction of your worldview, and thus, harbouring an attitude such as this, further contribution to the writing of the textbook is impossible.311

Although Matulaitis attempted to defend the complaints made against him and stressed that his speech was not nationalistic (i.e., he criticized Žiugžda’s “ultraisms”, not the Party line), the institution’s director made it clear to Mat- ulaitis and everyone gathered at the meeting just who had the monopoly on 96 Aurimas Švedas the truth. Matulaitis declared: “I spoke against you, I said nothing against the Party line”, whereupon Žiugžda’s response was: “I, as the director, am telling you that that is the Institute’s line”.312 With this, a distinct “historiographical landmark” had been reached – everyone who doubted Žiugžda’s theses automatically denied both the Institute’s and the Party’s provisions and would be left on the outskirts of the official discourse. So as no one else would consider trying to cross this “red line”, Matulai- tis was meant to serve as an example to others – the rebel was unanimously condemned by his colleagues, during the 8th Plenum of the Central Com- mittee of the LCP (B) on November 16–19, 1950 Sniečkus referred him as an “old opportunist”,313 and as of December 1, 1950, Matulaitis was dismissed from his position. At first, the aggrieved planned to continue his struggle against Žiugžda and composed an announcement for the Academy of Sciences Presidium. In the draft version of this speech, Matulaitis once again tried to argument his outburst, mercilessly criticizing Žiugžda: “As a ‘historian’, this dilettante does not know how to distinguish what is important from what isn’t; he thinks it’s possible to ignore historical documents, to silence those that don’t suit him; replacing them with his own contrivances, or trying to create the impression of proof by building up a specially selected yet unfounded fumble of words”.314 However, having assessed the situation and his potential to change it, Matu- laitis held back on this thought, writing in his journal:

So, I’ve been recognized as being unsuitable for the Academy of Sciences system. In part, this is true, I am not suited to the kind of science that is being developed here; it is not science or history that is required here; lies are what’s needed; history is being deformed based on what is required politically; what they need are hack jobs, not history…315

However, being an old and hardened communist, he did not give up completely. Unable to fight against Žiugžda publicly, Matulaitis handed over compromising material regarding the director of the Institute of History to the Lithuanian KGB. This move seriously complicated the director’s situation and threatened him directly. Matulaitis’ challenge aimed at the formation of Soviet-era historiography’s official discourse ended up having a minimal impact. Yet we must keep in mind that similar publicly declared ideas gained momentum in 1956 in Lithuania when it became increasingly possible that the CPSU 20th Congress could open the way to finally oppose Žiugžda’s position – certain Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 97 new “rebels” based their activities directly on Matulaitis (see pp. 104–114). The first “disturbances” started emerging in the Soviet matrix of uniform thought and speech.

Opposition III: “An Outsider” Who Wanted to do Small but Good Deeds in History An active implementer of Soviet rule in Lithuania in 1940, a high-ranking functionary, and Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the Lithuanian SSR for over 20 years (1940–1967), Justas Paleckis added to the formation of the Soviet-era official historical discourse with his worksTarybų Lietuvos kelias [The Path of Soviet Lithuania] and Советская Литва316 After their release, there was a swell in debates and a wave of “united stream” criticism that left a strong impact on historians’ orientations and strengthened the ever-growing “science policy vertical scale”. Paleckis’ character both in Soviet and post-Soviet Lithuania is viewed with ambiguity. His subjective speeches and actions often went against the Cen- tral Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau’s general provisions on several aspects, including deportation of the so-called middle-class peasants, Russification, destruction of the national culture, persecution of the intelligentsia, forced collectivization, and turning the Vilnius region into a Polish territory. This led to criticism, condemnation and even public distancing from this person who believed in the illusion of socialism with a “human face”.317 After such waves of criticism, Paleckis often had to admit his errors and repent. Nevertheless, following the publication of the mentioned brochures, Paleckis was in store for a particularly difficult trial. Whilst still a member of the Central Commit- tee of the LCP (B) Bureau, he viewed this campaign as his opponents’ cleverly devised opportunity to do away with him. Justas Paleckis spoke openly about this at the 15th Plenum that took place on September 19–20, 1952: “My book received a good response in Izvestiya, but nevertheless it was decided that further work was needed. The point is, I suspect, not the book at all – it’s simply that I need to be silenced, seeing as such an opportunity has appeared. That much is clear to me”.318 Why did Paleckis’ brochures catch the attention of the then Party leadership in Lithuania? Both texts were created in accordance with the primitive propaganda lecture model: the reader is at first introduced to a “Marxism-processed” outline of Lithuania’s history, after that, attention is focused on how “the broth- erhood of Soviet nations, with the great Russian nation at the fore, extended a 98 Aurimas Švedas helping hand to the Lithuanian nation” whereupon the text goes into great detail describing the latest “gigantic benefits”. Crowning all of this is a hurriedly sketched picture of the burgeoning “unlimited potentials” the future holds. In Tarybų Lietuvos kelyje barely a few pages are dedicated to historical information (Chapter 1 “From the distant and recent past”, pp. 3–9); other chapters dedicated to “bourgeois Lithuania” and the “creation of the Soviet order”. In the Russian version, the proportions of historical information and propaganda are somewhat different: Chapter 2 “From the historical past of the Lithuanian nation” is 31 pages long (from a total of 135). Incidentally, even here there are many schematic and speculative claims, which is why they could only partly be called “informative”. The ‘Achilles’ heel’ at first glance ideologically sound propagandistic texts was the 19th century. The “most talented and popular publicist in Soviet Lithuania” and “creator of historical genre popular literature”319 drew the anger of his colleagues upon himself over his discussion of the Lithuanian national revival. He associated “exemplary Lithuanian activists” with the Aušra and Varpas newspapers that inspired Lithuanian national revival processes in the late 19th century, and made the distinction between “reactionary” and “socialist” streams in the national movement, unadvisedly likening it to “revolutionary social-democracy”.320 In the Russian text significantly more “ideological errors” were picked up (due to its greater length): here Paleckis portrayed the Lithuanian national revival as a process in which the entire nation participated, gradually crystallizing into a “nation”,321 meanwhile the growth of the proletariat, the growing class struggle and influences on this process remained in the sidelines. More so, basing his claim on a quote by Stalin, Paleckis stated that in the first national independence movement it was the bourgeoisie that played the role of the “most important actively involved element”.322 The characters of Kudirka and Basan- avičius received only fragmented attention, yet none of it was derogatory (even “overlooking” the fact that they represented the bourgeoisie). In addition, Aušra was complimented, overriding any neutralizing ideological safety switches:

A significant role in the development of the national-independence movement was played by the first Lithuanian political newspaper Aušra that started being printed abroad in 1883 with J. Basanavičius acting as senior editor. Quite quickly a division became apparent between the progressive elements and the clerical-reactionary wing. This led to the closure of Aušra whereupon other newspapers and magazines started being published.323 Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 99 A reaction to these “ideologically faulty” passages was not long in coming. The most important critical claims were formulated in an article by the secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B), Vladas Niunka,324 that were based on assessments aired during the 6th Congress of the LCP (B) on Febru- ary 15–18, 1949. In a report presented here, Sniečkus stated that the 19th-century bourgeois nationalist movement had not yet received a Marxist evaluation and described the negative consequences this raised:

In relation to this, the development of the Lithuanian proletariat, their organizations and growth was completely ignored, as well as its decisive role in the struggle for the national and economic liberation of the Lithuanian nation. In addition, there was conscious evasion of the fact that in the late 19th century the Lithuanian bourgeois national movement, facing a growing revolutionary workers’ movement, quickly de- generated into reactionary bourgeois nationalism, under the banner of which all reactionary forces gathered in the early 20th century…325

Žiugžda was in complete agreement with the first secretary’s opinion, war- ily accepting part of the blame as the director of the Institute that a summary of the history of Lithuania had still not been prepared and that insufficient attention had been given to turning a Marxist eye on late 19th-century processes. Stating that in the present circumstances some of the blame fell upon historians, Žiugžda offered this dramatic generalization: “The inexistence of a textbook and other works about Lithuanian literature and the history of Lith- uania creates the conditions for unrestrained harm of the youth at our secondary schools and higher education institutions, inhibiting young people from making a firm decision regarding their own path in life”.326 Similar claims were voiced by Niunka.327 Summarizing the goals of the congress, Sniečkus declared that the guarantee of success in the Party’s future actions would be the complete elimination of the “united stream” theory.328 Paleckis’ reaction to this criticism that was generally limited to intimation, was an expression of general regret over the errors that appeared in his brochures and urged that such problematic issues in Lithuania’s history be actively discussed at various levels so that in future similar misunderstandings would be avoided.329 However, the Party elite required more than well-meaning discussions beating out precise formulae for dealing with contentious historical issues – the “wayward” Party member had to immediately admit his mistakes and repent. As Paleckis did not utter anything of the like, the “united stream” monster raised its ugly head again on November 16–19, 1950 during the 8th 17 High-ranking Party functionary Justas Paleckis (first from left) visits the Institute of History in 1978. Courtesy of Lithuanian Insti- tute of History.

Plenum of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) on “Measures to strengthen collective farms in the Lithuanian SSR”. With discussion of Paleckis’ “sins” any matters regarding the strengthening of collective farms became of secondary importance – towards the end of the plenum, the “transgressor”, barely hiding his sarcasm and annoyance, asked the participants:

The People are fighting and bleeding out there on the field, and what are were doing here at this plenum? We are stuck on some minor details and just raking through carrion. About half the time and a larger part of attention has been directed at history. As if Basanavičius would come and install collective farms, or Kudirka would come and help us move separate farmsteads into common settlements.330

The director of the Institute of Party History, Romas Šarmaitis, spoke at the 8th Plenum of the Central Committee of the LCP (B), discussing in detail Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 101 the mistakes made in Soviet Lithuania, and concluded his speech with a subtle allusion to the bourgeois burden weighing on Paleckis’ shoulders and the need to off-load it.331 However the Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet again backed away from this opportunity: he noted that the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau had been familiarized with the book’s content, and more so, Šarmaitis himself had read it prior to publication, whereas he could not as yet admit to his errors due to the circumstances:

… Comrades, I am at present in a situation where I cannot do that as there is the possibility of ending up in a blind spot. The fact of the matter is that I have asked the Central Committee of the CPSU (B) to check the review printed in Kultūra ir gyvenimas [Culture and Life] and they have promised to do just that. That is why I must wait and refrain from admitting to any errors.332

Adding further heat to the debate, in his speech Paleckis again brought up the need for proper discussions, asking whether the plenum was the right place to resolve matters requiring attentive analysis.333 “Errors must be proven to exist” – thus ending his speech, Paleckis provoked a chain reaction of events: the Party elite was forced to devote almost the entire 9th Plenum the Central Committee of the LCP (B) (September 19–20, 1952) to educating their “obtuse colleague”.334 At this plenum Sniečkus’ report for the LCP (B) 7th Congress was to be discussed. Almost all the delegates who spoke at the plenum agreed that the announcement needed to be revised – the Party’s first secretary was obliged to publicly condemn Paleckis’ errors and (more importantly than the errors themselves) his behaviour. In effect the scenario from the 8th Plenum was repeated – the atmosphere became increasingly heated, and both sides continued to speak about different matters: Paleckis did not identify his errors, did not repent, and suggested discussions be lifted to a scientific level, while his opponents were angered by this position, stressing the necessity of obeying the official Party line. Prob- ably the best description of this plenum collision was made by the minister of cinematography Michalina Meškauskienė, who accurately pointed out Paleckis’ most significant “sin”:

Comrades, the question regarding comrade Paleckis’ position is not so much theoretical or scientific, as it is practical. After comrade Niunka’s announcement in the Party’s press, within the Central Committee of the CPSU, Paleckis’ silence becomes a political matter. In terms of cultural 102 Aurimas Švedas heritage we have the provision from the 6th Party Congress, we have speeches, and we have comrade Sniečkus’ speech made at the Vilnius intelligentsia’s meeting. This opinion is a Party opinion, a Party provision. For us communists, unity over the Party Line is one of the principal Party provisions, whereas comrade Paleckis’ silence goes against this unity principle, bringing in uncertainty in terms of cultural heritage and ideological issues.335

The fact that Paleckis’ position was teetering on the edge of uncertainty and that it would be difficult for him to withstand universal pressure was demonstrated by the behaviour of the chairman of the Council of People’s Com- missars, Mečislovas Gedvilas. Having remained neutral during the LCP (B) 8th Plenum, yet at the same time basing his position on the need to take an overall look at the matters being debated,336 at the 15th Plenum he under- lined the neccessity of using more precise formulae when talking about late 19th-century processes, as this was the epoch of “restless dead men”. Giving prominence to the impact of late 19th-century processes and figures for the present, Gedvilas opposed Paleckis’ attempts at demonstrating that plenums and congresses should focus on more serious problems than the deliberation of historical circumstances:

No one doubts that today’s bourgeois nationalists are enemies of the Lithuanian nation, drawing strength and inspiration for their pitiful actions from Kudirka, Basanavičius, from Varpas and so on. They collect their ideological arguments from the same source and our nation’s traitors who have fled abroad all are backed by American gold. These activists of the last century, despite being dead men, they are restless dead men that are reluctantly the most active allies and inspirators of banditism and nationalism in Lithuania. Influenced by the ideologies of Kudirka and Basanavičius, and acting with the blessing of the Amer- ican secret police, these bandits are murdering our people.337

The emotions that were stirred at the plenum did not abate until the LCP (B) 7th Congress that commenced on September 22, 1952 that Paleckis, in light of facing the threat of being dealt with, later ironically called getting ready for “a first category funeral”.338 During his announcement at the Congress, Sniečkus stated that Paleckis viewed Lithuania’s past from “bourgeois nationalist positions”, at the same time making it clear to the Congress delegates that his accusations were quite Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 103 serious.339 Paleckis’ errors were again minutely discussed during the speeches of the secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Feliksas Bieliauskas and Niunka.340 They were seconded by Žiugžda who told the Congress participants that “the approach of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) regarding the newspapers Aušra and Varpas and their publishers was based on a scientific analysis of historical facts”.341 But the author of the most “conceptual” speech from the LCP (B) 7th Congress would have to be the Military Com- missar of the Lithuanian SSR, Juozas Macijauskas. He was probably the first in Lithuania to declare loud and clear one of the most important principles that formed the Soviet-era official historical discourse, thus putting the final dot on the discussion:

Comrade Paleckis, it’s high time you knew that the Party does not hand over the solving of ideological questions to anyone. The Party resolves ideological questions and matters of the legacy of the past. The issues of history and the legacy of the past are complicated, issues that demand serious analysis, however the question that J. Paleckis has raised was resolved a long time ago by the republic’s Party organization. And only J. Paleckis considers it unresolved even now, only because he has taken a mechanical rather than a dialectical approach to its resolution.342

Macijauskas’ formula: “history=ideology=the competence of the LCP” was always questioned by the older generation of historians: Janulaitis, Jablonskis, Jonynas, “ideological people” such as Matulaitis or Pakarklis, or Jurginis who constructed an independent approach. Meanwhile Paleckis’ defeat in the assessment of late 19th-century processes in Lithuania’s history showed that the “rules of play” in the Lithuanian field of humanities were gradually becoming clearer, rules that had to be abided by both scientists and the highest-ranking Party representatives. During the LCP (B) 7th Congress, Paleckis was forced to “repent” twice, as his colleagues saw his first speech as being not quite sincere enough and too blunt. Mounting the congress platform for the first time, Paleckis admitted to the errors he had made in his books Tarybų Lietuvos kelias and Советская Литва, and declared his unconditional approval of Sniečkus’ assessments of 19th-century history, but he carelessly added that the resolution of “history and cultural heritage issues displayed many shortcomings” and tried to justify himself, saying he meant no harm with his texts. These explanations aroused a new wave of critical speeches directed at Paleckis, whereupon he had to once again beat his chest and repent again, this time using Macijauskas’ formula: 104 Aurimas Švedas

I understand that the reasons for my errors and incorrect attitude lie in my bourgeois past amid individualistic tendencies. Our Party is not a collection of individualists, but a whole, united, powerful collective, forming a great vanguard of workers. Whoever wishes to be worthy of being a member of our Party must reject the tendencies I have just mentioned.343

Finally the congress delegates were left satisfied with what they had heard. Having publicly acknowledged the correctness of Macijauskas’ formula and the Party’s monopoly on the truth in the “history=ideology” sphere, Paleckis later also did not hold back from making harsh and controversial speeches regarding the past.344 However these were now merely the thoughts of a man who had ended up in a discourse “seclusion zone”, anxiously observing how, in the assessment of specific historical phenomena or figures, the application of “Marxist criteria” was much stricter in Lithuania than in other Soviet Un- ion republics.345

The Search for Turning-Points in the Evolution of Soviet-Era Lithuanian Historiography: 1956 (?) The 20th Congress of the CPSU that took place in February, 1956, where the announcement of the First Secretary of the CPSU Nikita Khrushchev was read, and the secret letter from the CPSU Central Committee Presidium to Party organizations, are held to be symbols of radical changes ahead in the Soviet Union. Processes of liberalization, the beginnings of which can be seen immediately following Stalin’s death in 1953, started becoming visible in many fields: in political and public life, and in the cultural, science and art fields. The wave of new changes from the empire’s centre quite quickly reached the governorates, where the Thaw similarly commenced. It is no wonder that this chronological boundary has also been identified as a turning-point by both researchers of LSSR history346 and eye witnesses to the overhauls in the humanities from those times.347 Naturally, the question arises, for how long and in what fields did the mentioned changes occur and how deep was their impact on the structure of the existing totalitarian social structure?348 Let us then examine whether 1956 can be considered to be the beginning of the development of new discourses, polemics and “up- risings” against the established boundary lines in Lithuanian historiography. Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 105 Archival documents from this period recording the course of history-related meetings and discussions that took place in the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau, at Vilnius University, at the Academy of Sciences and the Institute of Party History do not suggest any rapid or radical changes. The above-mentioned “ideological methodological” tensions, competition between independent discourses and repressive measures against scientists who dared to have their own opinion and express it in public clearly demonstrated to historians that ignoring the “game rules” handed down from above would be out of the question. The failed attempts by historians from the pre-war generation, Pakarklis, Matulaitis and Paleckis, to cross the defined boundaries show that all who had willingly or by turn of fate been recruited to serve as Clio’s servants had to abide by the laws without thinking, as “all was fair in love and war” on the ideological front. The community of researchers of the past, its “supervisors” and the LCP (B) leadership had just settled on a fragile modus vivendi, based on the principle of obeying brute force, when the fundamental changes of 1953–1956 advanced. Given the circumstances at the time, Soviet Lithuania’s historians had neither the opportunity nor the forces to change this situation, so it should come as no surprise that discussions about the situation in history were provoked not by them, but by the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau in 1956. On May 16, 1956 a meeting was called at the Institute of Party History on “Issues in Lithuanian history related to preparing for the CPSU Central Com- mittee Plenum on Ideological Matters”. The meeting was attended by the rector of Vilnius University Juozas Bulavas, the dean of the Faculty of History-Phi- lology Eugenijus Meškauskas, the head of the Department of Philosophy at the Party School Jonas Macevičius, the director of the Vilnius Pedagogical In- stitute Juozas Mickevičius, the senior editor of the State Fictional Literature Publisher Jurgis Tornau, the director of the Institute of Party History Romas Šarmaitis, and the deputy head of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Sci- ence and Culture Branch, Mikhail Rodin.349 The meeting’s participants, at the request of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau, discussed the draft of Lithuanian history textbook being prepared by the Institute of History. All who expressed their opinion agreed that it “was in need of serious corrections”.350 Meškauskas did not see any “deep analysis” in the text, and stated that “the historical facts themselves were not clearly presented”.351 Macevičius drew attention to the fact that “when reading the Lithuanian SSR history textbook, one gets the impression that the historical material has not yet been adequately examined”.352 Meanwhile Mickevičius missed a “historical objective approach”, “bolder generalizations” and even 106 Aurimas Švedas “application of Marxist ideology”. Not bothering to search for any politically correct formulae, the director of the Pedagogical Institute quite openly expressed why there was a lack of any bolder insights in the text: “There’s a lingering sensation of fear – “kak by čevo ne vyšlo” [God forbid something should happen].353 Rodin spoke out about the verdict on the text that was hanging in the air: “Even though the authors of the Lithuanian SSR history textbook reject the thesis of M. Pokrovsky’s school that history is backward-facing politics, it is precisely this thesis that has transfused the entire textbook”.354 The politici- zation of history, according to those who had analyzed the text, determined a great deal of the deformations of depictions of the past, errors and inaccuracies:

1. Relations between Russians and Lithuanians over the course of history were idealized, whilst tsarist Russia’s aggression was justified; 2. Depiction of the Crusades epoch was seriously over-simplified; 3. The introduction of Christianity was seen in an overwhelmingly negative light; 4. The positive aspects of the establishment of Vilnius University were left unmentioned; 5. Attention was not given to the concepts of growth in manufacturing or progress, therefore the process of history was shown to be a regression; 6. Little attention was given to political history, and the role of Lithuanian dukes during the feudalism epoch was not revealed; 7. The national liberation process of the late 19th century, and the activities of the Social Democratic Party and the Great Seimas of Vilnius were depicted only in a negative light; 8. In some chapters, the history of the Lithuanian nation in the 20th century becomes the history of the LCP instead.

Rodin, a representative of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau, summarized the thoughts voiced during the meeting, and essentially agreed that there was a basis for the critical comments. Towards the end of the discussion, it was decided that “the text of the Lithuanian SSR history textbook needs to be studied closer and those places that convey an incorrect thesis must be identified”.355 It was also suggested that a second meeting was required, to which the editorial board members must be invited. The minutes of this meeting ended up on the table of the First Secretary of the Central Com- mittee of the LCP (B) Sniečkus. The fact that not one of the textbook’s editorial team members participated in this meeting, and that the minutes from the meeting discussing the Lithuanian SSR textbook that was held on May 16, Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 107 1956 ended up in Sniečkus’ personal collections (and not in the collections of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau or the Institute of Party His- tory, which would be more logical), allows us to summarize that the Party’s leaders, sensing the beginning of changes in the centre, decided to “quietly” check, “just in case”, what kind of situation was developing in the community of researchers of the past. The Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau had to know whether the discourse that had taken prominence due to the efforts of Sniečkus, those closest to him, and Žiugžda met with the new conjunctural requirements, and whether it was politically resistant to any potential accusations of ideological or political “errors”. The second meeting was meant to answer these questions, and took place with the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau on July 6, 1956. Mickevičius, Meškauskas, Macevičius and Šarmaitis, who had delivered their especially harsh criticism on the text prepared by the collective headed by Žiugžda, were present. The Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau was represented by the secretary Niunka and the head of the science and culture branch, Jonas Zinkus. Žiugžda, the director, and Jurginis were in attendance on behalf of the Institute of His- tory and the collective compiling the publication. Another participant at this meeting was a staff member of the Institute of Party History, Povilas Štaras.356 Much like the first time, the representative of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) (in this case, Zinkus), making reference to the 20th Congress and its resolutions, let the assembled scientists understand that the new situation made in necessary to closely review the historians’ work. After a short and disjointed introduction by Žiugžda, the first to voice his criticism was Macevičius who discussed the depiction of the joining of Lithuania to Russia in the textbook. His verdict was that “the issue has been given a false treatment, whereas the constant accentuation in the textbook of Russia’s influence has grown out of pro- portion to its aims. In other words, in the textbook, today’s politics have been transferred to the past”.357 Macevičius was seconded by Mickevičius: “Lithua- nia’s accession to Russia during the Third Partition of the Rzeczpospolita has been idealized in the textbook. The accession was not in the interests of the Lithuanian nation”.358 The director of the Vilnius Pedagogical Institute drew the discussion participants’ attention to the fact that the authors of the text were trying to belittle the rulers of the GDL, figures that were especially loved by Lithuanian society. The treatment of the events of the late 19th century also received legitimate doubts from Mickevičius. These comments were joined by Meškauskas’ critical view. He continued along the lines of Mickevičius’ observation over the depiction of the rulers of the GDL, saying that the textbook “did not feature Lithuania’s political history”.359 Meškauskas urged the members of 108 Aurimas Švedas the editorial board present at the meeting to firstly show that “the introduction of Christianity was a progressive phenomenon, and only later reveal its reactionary side”.360 Returning to the matter of the Third Partition, the dean of the Faculty of History-Philosophy mercilessly exclaimed that “the accession of Lithuania to Russia has been illustrated to appear as if the Lithuanian nation were somehow inadequate”.361 Šarmaitis, one who had not always agreed with the comments made by Meškauskas, now added that the lack of political history in the synthesis was not a bad thing: “this is something that should be extrapolated on in other books and monographs”.362 The director of the Institute of Party History agreed with the others that Lithuanian-Russian relations had been idealized, whilst issues regarding the 19th-century’s national movement had received a schematic treatment, demonizing the liberal bourgeoisie and the social-democratic movement. Jurginis, who was representing the Institute of History and the editorial board, was inclined to agree with the comments made: “history should be written in a way that brings sympathy and respect for the Lithuanian nation. The merits of the Lithuanian state should be highlighted, noting the nobility’s major role in the spreading of democracy”.363 Towards the end of the meeting, the Central Committee secretary Niunka noted that “often in the textbook, facts have been replaced with declarations”.364 This hint from a Party functionary was enough for Žiugžda to admit, at least partly, that the text did have some faults. The senior editor of the textbook doubted whether more attention should indeed be given to political history, but did agree that the declarations about the nature of Lithuanian-Russian relations needed to be erased. What impact on the Soviet-era Lithuanian historiographical official discourse did the meetings arranged by the initiative of the Central Commit- tee of the LCP (B) have, where Žiugžda was made to realize that the version of Lithuania’s history that he was creating did not comply with the “spirit of the times” and did not stand up to the most elementary scientific criticism? The further course of events helps answer this question – the printing of the textbook was aborted, and the Institute director’s opponents attempted a second rebellion (the first being Matulaitis’ attempt) within the historians’ community. At the general meeting of the Academy of Sciences that commenced on December 13, 1956, once the institutes had presented their activity reports and future plans at the Social Sciences branch meeting, Bulavas, the rector of Vilnius University, took the floor.365 He declared that the Institute of History’s work was unsatisfactory and that it was incapable of realizing its set objectives, that the preparation of summarizing texts was behind schedule, and that the text of the Lithuanian history textbook contained a number of “theoretical and ideological” shortcomings. This was Bulavas’ way of Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 109 throwing the ball into Žiugžda’s court, making public the information from the May and July meetings. Bulavas announced to the session’s participants that the text in question had already been discussed on two occasions, while the most prominent errors were as follows:

1) Lithuanian statehood had been refuted; 2) historical relations between the Lithuanian and Russian nations have been incorrectly explained; 3) the Lithuanian national movement has been assessed incorrectly; and 4) the development of manufacturing has been presented in reverse – according to the textbook, with each new development in manufacturing, the Lithuanian people have become increasingly worse off. The parts of the texts written by comrade Žiugžda contain the most errors…366

The university’s rector also noted that the Institute of History was still bur- dened by the weight of “the remains of a personality cult”. Arguing this claim, Bulavas drew the session participants’ attention to the fact that Žiugžda “in his time, had played a part in the persecution and elimination of valuable staff members such as Matulaitis and Jurginis, instead backing and bolstering himself with incompetents such as Kutorgienė and Koniuchovas”.367 In summary, Bulavas suggested “the branch make the necessary organizational conclusions as far as the Institute’s director was concerned”.368 Macevičius, who was the next to speak, allowed himself a light dose of irony: “Up until now, the Institute of History has paid scrupulous attention to the criticism it has received, though without drawing any conclusions”.369 The head of the Department of Philosophy at the republic’s Party School and a correspondent member of the Academy of Sciences noted that at the May and July meetings mentioned by Bulavas “major shortcomings in relation to the treatment given to the Lithuanian nation were pointed out. All of this is the outcome of the persisting personality cult”.370 Žiugžda reacted to this fundamental criticism like a hardened ideological battle participant. Mounting the platform, the Institute’s director announced that he “did not agree with comrade Bulavas’ theoretical reproaches”. This had been the first time he heard such reproaches from comrade Bulavas. The main claims in the History of the Lithuanian SSR short course were taken from the first volume of the earlier reviewed three-volume text. comrade Žiugžda denied all of the reproaches made by comrade Bulavas regarding ideological errors in part one of the short course of History of the Lithuanian SSR. He agreed that there were some shortcomings, but they were not matters of principle.371 Žiugžda’s Spartan-like poise did not manage to quell the flames of criticism. The speech by Kazys Sideravičius, head of the secretariat of the chairman of 110 Aurimas Švedas the Council of People’s Commissars, made on December 14, 1956 at the LSSR Academy of Sciences general meeting, added further heat to this fire by saying that the Soviet public had been waiting for this synthesis of Lithuania’s history for the last ten years. Reminding the audience of the accusations voiced by Bulavas in the previous day’s session, the speaker added that from the sidelines, it appeared as if there were two camps in the community of researchers of the past. This statement by Sideravičius should have sounded particularly unpleasant to Žiugžda: “It appears, and I doubt I am wrong in saying so, that the opinions concerning the main issues in Lithuanian history expressed by a long line of Lithuanian history writers, and those who partake in its discussion, as well as everyone else who cares about Lithuanian history, can be said to be divided into two sides: on one side, there is the leadership of the Insti- tute of History, on the other – we have the remainder”.372 Sideravičius made it clear that he held grave doubts whether the founder of one of these “sides”, Žiugžda, was able to handle the objectives dictated to him by the Party and reminded everyone of the rebellious Matulaitis:

I sometimes think that the old revolutionary Matulaitis ended up beyond the Institute’s walls for his criticism of the Institute’s leadership and the discussion that ensued. And sometimes it appears that the worst things that he said were that the Institute’s leadership as it was then could not be counted on to write the history of Lithuania.373

Jurginis who spoke after Sideravičius tried to smooth the situation, ac- knowledging that while there were shortcomings, they were not as major as stated by the critics of the History of the Lithuanian SSR short course. He added that he was surprised at Žiugžda’s tactic of demonstrating no caution in denying the existence of “ideological errors” in the text (“It would mean that the Central Committee behaved incorrectly by temporarily stopping the printing of the course”),374 yet ensured that the “criticism would not fall on deaf ears”, as it would be considered making the necessary corrections. Pres- ident of the Academy of Sciences Matulis assumed a similar tactic. Summa- rizing the discussion he suggested to the session’s participants to refrain from getting involved in any polemics and to wait to hear the conclusions of the Presidium’s commission which had to assess the work done by the Institute of History.375 Matulis ensured the session’s participants that at this institution, they were engaged in combating the effects of a personality cult. Trying to extinguish the flames of criticism, the president of the Academy of Sciences prepared the ground for the following day’s Social Sciences branch 18 Initiator of the “rebellion” against Juozas Žiugžda of 1965, Vilnius University Rector (1956–1958) Juozas Bula- vas. Courtesy of the Faculty of History, Vilnius University. meeting, where Žiugžda was meant to be re-elected as the Institute’s director. This tactic bore fruit – the opportunity to radically reform the historiographical discourse slipped by. On December 15, deliberating Žiugžda’s candidature, only one writer and Vilnius University professor Vincas Mykolaitis-Putinas announced they would be voting against him, suggesting Jurginis take the director’s post. All the other speakers unanimously declared their confidence in the present leader of the institution. Economist Dzidas Budrys called Ži- ugžda “the most famous history specialist in the republic”,376 while Jablonskis diplomatically added that “there is no other person who could lead the history front in the republic”.377 Results of the secret ballot confirmed the vote of confidence voiced from the platform. In the voting that followed the discussion, as a candidate to the post of director of the Institute of History, Žiugžda received nine votes in favour, one against, and one ballot was deemed invalid. Why did events turn out as they did? Where do the reasons for opposition to Žiugžda and his failed depiction of Lithuania’s history lie? The answer is prompted by the position of the director of the Institute of History himself, and of the president of the Academy of Sciences. Žiugžda felt particularly confident 112 Aurimas Švedas in light of the challenge thrown at him, was assured in his lies, and denied the existence of errors of principle in the textbook he was putting together. All the while, Matulis demonstrated that he completely supported Žiugžda. This behaviour exhibited by experienced science functionaries was not a display of des- peration, but an expression of monumental calmness; a calm that was inspired by them knowing that they represented the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau, and specifically Sniečkus’ position. Under the given circumstances, the Party leaders were forced to choose between the predictable, easy-to-handle “voluntary hostage” Žiugžda, and a new “supervisor” of the historians’ community, whose appointment as the director of the Institute of History would undoubtedly only strengthen “nationalistic emotions”. This version can be confirmed by facts. A discussion took place on January 16, 1957 between Sniečkus and other government representatives with the communist members of the Writers’ Un- ion, during which the first secretary openly declared his position regarding the 20th Congress of the CPSU and the changes it brought about.

Now is not the time to argue about who is to blame. Who has never been guilty of something? Now we need to forget any squabbles that were not of a principle nature. Even I have been guilty, if it’s self-criticism you’re after. We have gathered here to join forces in the fight for a socialist Lithuania. […] If all we do is throw accusations at one another, the enemy will strike us.378

This was the attitude Sniečkus was inclined to keep in terms of the researchers of the past as well. Noting that the textbook being prepared by the Institute of History contained “schematicism” and “inaccuracies” (but no mention of errors of principle!), Sniečkus announced to the meeting’s participants that Žiugžda’s critics had indulged a little too much, as they had forgotten that deciding what was right and what was wrong was solely the domain of the Par- ty’s leadership. So as there would be no ambiguity, the first secretary tried to explain the circumstances to the writers as follows: “We will make corrections, but not give in. We cannot allow them to take over, moreover, with their nationalistic ideology”.379 What do these words from the factual ruler of Soviet Lithuania mean? Sniečkus went to every possible effort that the changes started by Khrush- chev would not accelerate in Lithuania and turn into a self-purposeful process, independent of the Party’s will. This is why his reaction to all sorts of displays of “personal initiative” or “expressions of nationalism” was particularly harsh, as according to the “caretaker of Lithuania”, they had the potential to weaken Formation of the Official Historical Discourse (1944–1956) 113 his position.380 The thoughts voiced by Sniečkus during a meeting of the Cen- tral Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau on November 26, 1957 should be considered symptomatic regarding the libretto for the opera “Sukilėliai” [The Rebels; in 1957 LCP functionaries banned the premiere of composer Julius Juzeliūnas’ opera because they picked up on “nationalistic ideas” in the libretto]. Iden- tifying numerous “ideological errors” in the libretto that were obviously the result of the “thawing atmosphere” the first secretary showed no self-restraint and started arguing: “there’s no need to be so naive, naive people in Hungary ended up on the gallows!”381 This position maintained by Sniečkus explains why two deliberations of the History of the Lithuanian SSR textbook that were organized by the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau in 1956 remained of marginal importance and were something that Žiugžda could allow himself to “overlook” (even if the mentioned meetings were discussed at the Institute of History, this would have taken place amid a very narrow circle close to the administration, and this possible exchange of information has not been recorded in the documents of the institution in question and had no great influence on the general trends in scientific research work). For the same reason, during the LCP (B) 10th Congress held on Febru- ary 12–15, 1958, the president of the Academy of Sciences named attempts at opposing the director of the Institute of History as “muddying the waters”, “spreading a mood under the cover of nationalistic rags”, or “the disorientation and confusion of certain communists”.382 This kind of treatment of the events that had unfolded meant Matulis could proudly state at the mentioned meeting that “the leading Academy cadres had not succumbed to various winds of change, and had tried to understand the Party’s Leninist policy in light of the changed circumstances, consistently being guided by the resolutions from the 20th Party Congress”.383 Incidentally, Matulis was inclined to apply similar rhetorical formulae not only during mass Party gatherings. At a meeting of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau held on June 27, 1958, where Bulavas’ dismissal from the position of university rector was being discussed, the president of the Academy of Sciences noted that:

… Not so long ago we faced a seemingly unbreakable front that had formed concerning the assessment of certain issues in the Lithuanian nation’s cultural heritage, where it became difficult to distinguish a clear line between the conscious spreading of bourgeois nationalist concepts and the criticism of some Party members directed at the authors of the History of the Lithuanian SSR and the History of Lithuanian Literature.384 114 Aurimas Švedas Moving on from generalizations to criticism of Bulavas, Matulis reminded the outgoing university rector that the latter was responsible for having introduced confusion at the general meeting of the Academy of Sciences in 1956 by supporting the “group of objectivist old-brew members” who sought to oppose “candidacies that had already been negotiated with the Central Committee”.385 The dynamics of the events discussed here that had a direct impact on the guild of researchers of the past leads us to take a new look at determining turning-points in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography. It is believed that after the 20th Congress of the CPSU no radical turning-point was reached. Changes in the science of history were stopped by those at the top of the LCP (B) who unambiguously supported Žiugžda, lumping scientists (among whom there were hardly any historians) who openly tried to oppose him with the “bourgeois nationalists”. This circumstance means we must newly define the reasons why the atmosphere among the historians’ community took a long time to loosen. The year 1956 in the evolution of historiography thus takes on astatus quo status, rather than marking the beginning of any radical changes. Incidentally, the failed upheaval in historiography was not the only feature of a “relative thaw” in the Lithuanian socio-cultural environment. In 1957, the directed attack on the Department of Lithuanian Literature at Vilnius University renewed with full force, after which its core body of staff was dismantled,386 whereas the rector of Vilnius University was dismissed. Thus the situation amongst historians was not exceptional, as noted by Alfredas Bumblauskas who has closely analyzed the particularities of Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography:

… The concept of the Thaw was very relative – even though some of the features of totalitarianism were rejected, this stage of the Soviet order, which remained stable for all this time, can truly be identified as authoritarian […] During it the brighter moments of science and cre- ativity were replaced with not only Soviet parades, but also far more sombre things, such as the suspension of dissertations, the dissipation of separate university departments, even mysterious deaths that have been associated with KGB involvement.387

The destiny of “thawing” processes in Soviet Lithuania had already been pre-determined by those sitting in the offices of the LCP CC. That is why the humanities scientists who did not want to reconcile themselves with this situation had to fight without compromises for every additional centimetre of inner freedom of space. The efforts of particular figures and their results are still awaiting precise analysis and evaluation. CHAPTER 3

Processes within Our task is to not the Official Discourse only decisively fight all imperi- (1957–1985) alist ideological diversions, but also to assume the role of attackers on the ideological front.388

Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 117

Historians’ Behaviour Models and the Official Discourse The situation of Lithuania’s historians in the years 1957–1985 can be described as existing within a relatively clearly defined playing field that was formed by the established contours of the official discourse, historiographical-ideological rules and various prohibitions. The provocations and challenges questioning the “ideologically correct” version of the past, the tensions caused by contrasting opinions in the public space, dramatic polemics and the fiery criticism of “heretics” blasted down from the highest Party tribunes gradually matured an understanding that it was impossible to change the Soviet science matrix using confrontational means. This is what shaped some of the features of the condition of historiography and its development. The official historical discourse continued to be formed and supervised by a specific system of institutions and the “supervisors” of the historians’ guild appointed by the Central Committee of the LCP (B). Moscow’s influence on the processes (both in the positive and negative sense) within the science of history remained particularly important. The Party elite was satisfied with the “thinking masks” and the historians’ community’s silent acceptance of the existing circumstances. That is why, in 1957–1985, representatives of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) no longer made public threats or devised radical resolutions concerning the historians’ guild at Party congresses or plenums. At the 10th Congress of the LCP (B) held on February 12–15, 1958, when the president of the Academy of Sciences Juozas Matulis proudly stated that the “troublemakers” amongst historians had finally been defeated and demanded of the congress (more as a formality than out of necessity) that “control of the ideological sphere be tightened”, no real polemics eventuated. At the 11th Congress of the LCP (B) held on January 14–16, 1959, historians again escaped any major attention from the Party elite. At the 12th Congress of the LCP (B) (March 1–3, 1960) Antanas Sniečkus mounted the platform and insisted that volume III of the History of the Lithuanian SSR be compiled as soon as possible. During the 14th (January 9–10, 1964), 15th (March 3–5, 1966) and 16th (March 3–5, 1971) congresses of the LCP (B), attention was given to the community of historians. The same air of calmness surrounded the 18th (January 29–30, 1981) and 19th (January 24–25, 1986) Party congresses. The situation in research of the past was deliberated on rarer and rarer occasions at meetings of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau as well. Meetings that can be considered to have at least partially involved historians 118 Aurimas Švedas were those dedicated to discussing general issues in the development of the social sciences or the exposé of “heresies” in similar disciplines. The Soviet version of Lithuanian history had been convincingly created and established, while certain historians’ attempts at correction were usually quietly suppressed through various levels of text censorship, off-the-record telephone calls, or being quietly summoned to bear a litany of criticism and derogation, after which the historian who had persistently made ideological mistakes would suddenly be “cured”. It was only in special cases that the Party leaders would apply their ideological pressure at maximum force and allow themselves to demonstrate it to the day’s community of historians and the public. There were only a handful of such cases in 1956–1985. The unique and independent position maintained by Juozas Jurginis created ideological and methodological tensions for which he received harsh criticism (see pp. 125–145), whilst probably the only broad scale attack on the historians’ guild was provoked by the theses aired by Sniečkus at a meeting of the Party nomenklatura on March 13, 1973 (see pp. 145–154). Obviously the above mentioned cases do not reflect the entire variety of conflicts, tensions and historians’ critique campaigns that took place in 1956– 1985. A more precise reconstruction of these events cannot be conducted due to the fact that these cases of tension and critique were not always recorded in meeting minutes, resolutions or other documents, as a result of the tactics used by the Party leaders in communicating with researchers of the past. In this case it is necessary to stress another feature of the post-1956 period: the force of the wave of criticism had subsided, and historians who had sinned were rarely at threat of having their academic career entirely destroyed or being physically harmed. Lionginas Šepetys, a high ranking functionary at the Central Committee of the LCP (B) who was in charge of the Ministry of Culture at the time (1967–1976), recalled the situation that had developed in Lithuania in the late Soviet-period:

We are confronted with a phenomenon which was formed in the post-Stalin period. When we talk about the “beating” of particular scientists or artists in the period in question, we should keep in mind that usually the initiators of the criticism did not intend to completely “crush” a certain figure or bring them to their “end”.389

The situation in historiography after 1956 was quite different to the tension-filled atmosphere of the 1944–1955 period that was discussed in Chapter 2 of this book. Probably the best evidence of this are the thoughts of Stasys Matulaitis 19 Research of the feudalism era was seen by Soviet ideologues as an especially “dangerous” stage in the Lithuanian nation’s past, which is why scientists from the Institute of History who specialized in feudalism were constantly made to feel like they were treated only as an “unavoidable evil”. Scientists from the History of Feudalism sector in January, 1982. Courtesy of the Lithuanian Institute of History. recorded in his journal after he had dared to publicly question the competency of Juozas Žiugžda at the general assembly of the Academy of Sciences in No- vember, 1950, and was later dismissed from his position for the outburst:

In the first days I thought that they would apply the regular Bolshevik means of informing the MGB which would come to arrest me and I would be deported to Siberia. I would prefer not to have to repeat that pleasure. Better to bring things to an end in this short time I have left, and for that purpose I keep a good dose of poison on my table at night, so that if they come to arrest me, I drink the poison and then at least I can remain in Lithuania.390 20 Researchers of the capitalism epoch similarly did not enjoy the trust of the Communist Party elite in Lithuania – their activities were restricted by various rules and prohibitions, and collection of material from archives was also made difficult. Scientists of the Institute of History’s History of Capitalism sector in January 1983. Courtesy of the Lithuanian Institute of History.

An important feature of this period, starting in the early 1960s, are historians’ attempts to discuss whether their texts were sufficiently fluent, whether they were correctly in line with the existing historiography, and how well the- oreticization and the “descriptive” and “illustrative” methods had been applied. These beginnings of methodological reflexion can be considered as a symbol of the maturity of the professional community. It has already been mentioned that a majority of the historians from the time saw Marxist-Leninist theory as an unavoidable evil and so limited themselves to formal quotes of the “classics” and the inclusion of works by Lenin, Marx and Engels in lists of sources used during the research. Nevertheless, during this period, there were still occasions where attempts were made to take a more thorough look at Marxism and to sincerely apply the potentials of this theory in the reconstruction of Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 121 elements of Lithuania’s past (see pp. 199–215). It is paradoxical, but attempts to creatively apply this theory demanded of historians not only skills beyond the standard original thinking, but also a degree of intellectual boldness. One of the few Lithuanian historians to have attempted to creatively apply Marxist theory in his research was Gudavičius, who stated:

If you take the atmosphere in our [feudal history] department, then most probably Marx or Engels would be considered as complete non- sense. I speak of course about that atmosphere that hung in the air, which, without a single doubt, could not go beyond the boundaries of our department. And because I took and still take Marxism quite seriously, it is quite possible that some of my department’s colleagues might have considered me to be something of a conformist, as Marxism was viewed very sceptically. In this case, one needed to be brave to quote Marx in the Feudalism department, rather than the opposite – to ignore him. That was the climate.391

Having learned the art of hiding one’s thoughts behind “thinking masks”, in some cases the members of the historians’ community could now allow themselves to demonstrate careful scepticism as far as the official postulates were concerned. In 1957–1985 there were other signs of a lighter atmosphere, where humanities scientists could without obliquity express their independent position and not execute the wishes of the Central Committee of the LCP (B), or resolved to ignore the initiatives flowing in from Moscow. An example of this demon- stration of independence from the scientists’ community would be the procedures for electing member of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau (1958–1968) and senior editor of the Communist magazine (1971–1984) Genri- kas Zimanas as a fully-fledged member of the Academy of Sciences and later a correspondent member, procedures which ended in the complete failure of the Party’s scheming. Another stand-out case would be the joint meeting of the departments of History of the USSR and the History of the Lithuanian SSR at Vilnius University’s Faculty of History on December 6, 1976 where the text by Moscow historian V. Sverdlov Lithuania’s Liberation in 1941–1945 (the struggle of the Soviet army’s soldiers and the Lithuanian people, led by the Communist Party of Lithuania, in liberating the republic from the grip of its fascist occu- pants), who was attempting to defend his doctoral dissertation, was dismissed. Regardless of the doctoral degree candidate’s attempts to show up the “heroic struggle of the Soviet army”, its cooperation with partisans and the exploitation 21 During the second stage of the development of Soviet-era Lithu- anian historiography, researchers of the past already had some space to manoeuvre, an opportunity which they on occasion exploited ignoring initiatives coming down from the Party elite’s offices and Moscow. A meeting held on December 6, 1976 of Vilnius University Departments of the History of the USSR and History of the LSSR during which the doctoral thesis of candidate V. D. Sverdlov was rejected. Courtesy of the Faculty of History, Vilnius University. of “international comradeship”, the reviewer, lecturer of the Faculty of History at Vilnius University, Jonas Dobrovolskas, convincingly demonstrated that the paper did not meet the most elementary of scientific research criteria.392 Despite there being only a few such provocations against the Soviet system or “rebellions”, they show that the general level of ideological or other pressure on the entire science community (including the historians’ community) gradually decreased. An indicator of this process would be the discussion that arose amongst historians in the 1970s as to whether a fascist regime had existed in pre-war Lithuania. This question was formulated by historian Mindaugas Ta- mošiūnas in his review of the book by Izraelis Lempertas, Fašistinis režimas Li- etuvoje [The Fascist Regime in Lithuania].393 This kind of attempt at questioning a fundamental Soviet historiographical thesis (according to this thesis, in the inter-war Lithuanian state a fascist regime had emerged) raised tensions at the Institute of Party History where Tamošiūnas worked. A witness to this event, Ričardas Čepas, a former employee at the Institute of Party History, recalls:

I remember how that time after the meeting, I didn’t even notice a red light at one intersection. That’s how heated the discussion became in the car Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 123 with my colleagues… In fact, Lempertas wasn’t even present at this particular meeting – it wasn’t a public meeting. We went through the obliga- tory “rituals”, they were unavoidable in such cases […] we tried to support our colleague [Mindaugas Tamošiūnas], at least us younger ones from the Institute. Meanwhile Šarmaitis did not back the “upstart” but did try to defend the Institute in the highest levels of the Party, as Tamošiūnas’ review did attract a degree of repercussion. However no repressions were applied. Only a small article in Russian appeared on the initiative of Zimanas.394

Another important phenomenon in Lithuanian historiography of the late Soviet period were the successful cases when a certain researcher of the past managed to detour various ideological rules and historiographical prohibitions and openly, without provoking the system, avoided deforming or falsifying the depiction of the past. One of the most demonstrative successful examples of this behaviour is the tactic taken by historian Vytautas Merkys; proceeding from one topic to another and carefully checking the rigidity of the “red lines” set out in the official discourse, he gradually revealed important subjects in Lithuanian history to the public – the era when Lithuanian publications were banned (1863–1904), the activities of the book smugglers, eminent late 19th-century figures of the Lithuanian national revival and their deeds.395 A comprehensive assessment of the success stories of such individuals in Soviet-era historiography necessitates separate research that would delve into the historiographical contexts of specific issues in Lithuanian history.

Scholars’ Attempts at Correcting the Official Discourse The Need for Theoretical Reflexion and Criticism of “Poor” Methodology. In the beginning of the 1960s, historians started trying to independently and without transgressing the existing rules and prohibitions correct the official discourse by voicing critical comments on the theoretical or methodological “naivety” appearing in certain texts, pointing out a factographical error, criticizing the “illustrative-descriptive” method, or cases of unscientific use of historiographical material. It would appear that the community of historians had stepped into the “normal science” stage, to borrow Thomas Kuhn’s concept, where a certain group of scientists becomes known for its will to correct and improve the fundamental contours and formulations of the postulates from a specific field.396 Of course, projecting Kuhn’s theses about a “normal science” stage, when researchers en- deavour to define significant facts, relate facts with theory and develop theory 124 Aurimas Švedas itself, onto Soviet-era historians’ cosmetic correction of the official discourse may appear somewhat trivial. However, in this case we need to look at Sovi- et-era historiography as a closed, finite and unique scientific paradigm that is difficult, if not impossible, to compare to other historical paradigms of the time. It is also necessary here to state a certain collision: to what extent was the dissatisfaction with a specific text’s inadequate degree of theoretization or critique of the illustrative method an expression of historians’ sincere desire to improve the quality of their own and their colleagues’ work, or was it actually just their way of setting down ideological safety switches? An analysis of reviews and meeting minutes from various scientific institutions does not give us an unambiguous answer to this question, but it could be said that in the late Soviet period, historians had learnt how to apply methodological alternatives that might not have always been motivated by “ideological” aims. In this respect, special attention should be drawn to one figure in particular – Juozas Jurginis. Analyzing Jurginis’ attitudes and the concepts he created which were spread rather boldly in the 1957–1985 period in particular, it becomes apparent that he regularly urged his colleagues to not be afraid of posing difficult questions regarding the past. In his role as the scientific deputy director of the Institute of History, Jurginis spoke at length during various meetings about the inadequate level of theoretical reflexion. A symptomatic example follows: during a meeting of the Institute’s Science Board held on December 30, 1968 where Jurginis’ report of scientific work conducted at the institution was being discussed, the speaker noted that he was uneasy over the fact that “there are only a few theoretical generalizing articles. That is why there should be a plan for their creation as part of the Institute’s work”.397 Keeping in mind Jurginis’ lines of thought, this sort of attitude should not appear conjunctural – being able to make creative use of Marxism, this historian most probably sincerely wanted that his example should be followed by his colleagues. Another feature of Jurginis’ reflexion was related to professional indiffer- ence and the critique of inertia-driven thinking. During the annual general meeting of the Institute’s directorate, its Party organization and the union organization held on December 23, 1968, Jurginis did not shy away from criticizing historians’ work principles:

It is a recurring problem that much work is left until the end of the year, and because we end up being rushed, the work is usually of poor quality. It is often the case that a draft version is approved, but then that draft is left to gather dust for several years. The following attitude is also valid, “if the top asks for something – it is done”, a study or an article Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 125 is written. This is an amateur approach to work comparable to how a peasant might approach managing a state forest.398

However, these few speeches by Jurginis and other historians which expressed the authentic need for theoretization and broader insights were constantly overwhelmed by the incessant stream of demands to raise the “ideological” level of studies and to “theoretically summarize” texts lauding the Soviet order. Party functionaries continually urged historians in this way at various plenums, meetings and congresses. And naturally, this urging had nothing to do with attempts at improving the level of research into the past.

Dissatisfaction with inadequate theoretization was also closely related to critique of the “illustrative-descriptive” method that accompanied attempts at improving the historical discourse from the beginning of the 1960s. It is rather easy to define the essence of this method, taking as a case in point the retrospective glance of ethnographer Angelė Vyšniauskaitė who was a witness to these processes: “The descriptive [method] – ‘what you have is what you have’”399… It is much more difficult to determine just how sincere the criticism of this method actually was. Even today, historians from those times understand this problem differently. Sigitas Jegelevičius noted that danger lurked in the “descriptive method” as well:

If it was said that “the descriptive method predominates in the study”, you would take it to mean that you had added too many facts as yet unapproved by those up high. Often this signalled that the set scheme does not need to have facts added into it. Out of interest, I can say that in Juozas Žiugžda’s history, the Union of Krewo has been described just about accurately, but when you read about the Pact of Vilnius and Radom for example… It is impossible to understand what happened, how and why, not even the point of the pact itself. There is only a minimum of facts so that the reader cannot discover too much. There was a fear of using the descriptive method because data and facts would “sneak out” into the light of day too clearly.400

Meanwhile Gudavičius noted the preventional aspect of the fight against “description” and “illustration”:

What which has been recorded in minutes is usually nothing more than acts of paying tribute to the system. After all, every article faced the 126 Aurimas Švedas possibility of receiving a bad assessment. And if that happened, they would immediately become interested whether this had been spotted in time, or overlooked… “Is this what you call raising your ideological level?” So the requirements of the day forced us to speak in this way when discussing our colleagues’ articles. But in many cases, it was purely a formality… Histori- ans themselves knew some things, while they didn’t necessarily know other things, and had to demand the same of themselves and their colleagues.401

Critique of the “descriptive-illustrative” method comes in two forms: the first is aimed at the activities of separate institutions or their divisions, while the second looks at the quality of specific texts. Due to the application of this approach and its absolution, workers from the Institute of History’s Sector of Socialism, Ethnography and Feudalism had to face this criticism quite often. The “socialists” in this case were the clear “leaders” in using the descriptive method. A typical acknowledgement of this kind of “leadership” could be Jurginis’ comments made in 1955 on the article by Romas Šarmaitis and Grigorijus Koniuchovas “The scientific research work of the Lithuanian SSR’s h i s t o r i a n s”. 402 Similar reproaches were heaped on the Socialism sector’s staff on more than one occasion. We come across the descriptive-illustrative approach and variations thereof especially frequently in dissertation discussions and their reviews. Dissertation authors often heard the same kinds of complaints, stressing that a specific text had been overloaded with details and was short of generalizations, and that the descriptive-illustrative approach was too obvious.403 Due to the rules and prohibitions that applied in the official discourse, the younger generation of researchers of the past clearly lacked an understanding of the historiographical tradition, a wider theoretical-methodological view, and the ability to make original interpretations of historical sources. That is why, when writing their candidate dissertations, many younger scientists reverted to uncritical application of the descriptive-illustrative method, thereby becoming not so much researchers of the past as narrators of the information hiding in the sources. This methodological bad-habit continued to haunt historians when they wrote articles or monographs while colleagues reviewing the latter works were forced to constantly repeat the same critical comments.

Prevention of the Ignorant Relationship with Historiographical Material. Whereas criticism of theoretical “naivety” or the “descriptive-illustrative” method cannot always be unambiguously evaluated due to its ideological loading, then Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 127 problems with the use of historiographical material, it seems, are not known for their ambiguity. In this respect, the reflexion of historian Algirdas Šid- lauskas, who consistently researched the evolution of historical studies at Vil- nius University during the Soviet period, is important:

There were absolutely no discussions regarding historiography in the first studies coming from the background of the newly-formed Soviet science of history. This was a gradual process. These historiographical discussions or research papers, slowly developing from their embryonic state, were rather weak, unable to stand independently on their own, wavering in all directions.404

Discussing their colleagues’ dissertations, articles and monographs, historians in the Soviet period continually stated that the relationship with the historiographical tradition was incorrect, formal, or sometimes… absent altogether: “Each scientific article has to meet certain requirements which we cannot see in this article: first of all, the author must pose a question and then mention its historiographical background”.405 The following rhetorical question directed at the author of an article by its reviewer is symptomatic: “Can it be that there’s no historiography here…”406 If historiography found an outlet in the introduction of a particular study, then historians often made another methodological error – reviewers would state that the existing prior work on the issue being researched had not been clearly defined and that the correct relationship with it had not been set.407 Besides the insufficient attention given to historiography, the excessively critical approach towards the “bourgeois” research of the past is also worth mentioning. The unconditional depreciation of the work done by pre-war Lith- uania’s historians and its denial became one of the main points of reference in the formation of Soviet-era historiography. Žiugžda’s announcement titled “Directions in the work of Soviet scientists” read at a session of the Academy of Sciences general assembly on February 23, 1946 contained epithets such as “pathetic reactionary ideas”, “deformation and falsification of the facts”, “serving fascist ideology” and so on, thus denoting clear “historiographical boundary markers” which other researchers of the past were expected to observe whilst trying to manage, group and assess the pre-war historiographical legacy.408 Incidentally, the Institute of History director’s arrogant attitude towards the long-standing prior work of earlier historians was simply a hypertrophied expression of the dominant trends in Soviet-era science. In the introduction to Volume I of The Science of History in the USSR released in Moscow in 1955, it 128 Aurimas Švedas is noted that: “In historiography, the history of all historical thought is divided into two periods: the pre-Marxist, pre-science period, when history, regardless of its one-off achievements, had not yet become a true science, and the second – the Marxist, scientific period…”409 On the other hand, once the Soviet-era historical matrix had established a clear and stable shape, overly drastic assessments where authors recklessly attacked all the “bourgeois” researchers sometimes received a critical response also. This position was expressed collectively on behalf of the Institute of His- tory regarding the study by Leonas Gentvilas-Bičkauskas titled “1863 m. sukilimas Lietuvoje” [The 1863 Uprising in Lithuania], where it was noted that “the author principally disdains all prior studies written on the subject before his work…” The authors of the collective response suggested Gentvilas-Bičkau- skas should re-assess the earlier historiographical work regarding his chosen topic and avoid such reckless nihilism.410 Historians’ well-founded reproaches were also forthcoming due to another extreme – the overestimation of the merits of specific representatives of Sovi- et-era Lithuanian historiography. That is why the scientists that reviewed the article “Soviet historians’ achievements in Lithuanian SSR history” in 1960 stated that the authors of this text “while not being completely precise in scientific terms and being guided by the principle “you can’t have too much of a good thing” attributed studies to certain authors who had neither written or researched their alleged topic, and remained quiet about fundamental issues of the research itself”.411 Of course, the features of these reflexions from the community of historians should be considered as exceptions – the relationship with bourgeois historiography’s traditions could only be revealed within the limits of the critical genre; in the same respect, no one dared to publicly doubt the thesis that the science of Soviet history was the most advanced and the most capable vehicle to learn about the past. Although, even while the “most advanced” Soviet historiography was in operation, certain unwritten rules and traps did exist, which historians tried to avoid on all accounts. In 1988, contemplating the most important problems in Soviet-era history and how they could be resolved, Jurginis noted that the constant state of uncertainty meant historians could not let their guard down for a single minute or adequately assess their colleagues’ work:

You had to be careful with Soviet authors as well, be they dead or still living, as you never knew what could happen to them […] Having adopted the cultish practice of avoiding making historiographical, i.e., theoretical, Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 129 assessment of other authors’ works out of fear resulted in widespread compilations and plagiaries guided by scholasticism and dogmatism.412

The earlier-mentioned rules and prohibitions and constantly engaged self-censorship mechanisms are what created the preconditions for methodological errors amongst Soviet-era historians, errors that re-occurred discussing historiographical material. The efforts those scientists that attempted to change this situation were reminiscent of Don-Quixote-like struggles against the windmills.

“Janus” Challenges the Community of Historians and the Official Version of the Past One of the most prominent figures in the field of Soviet-era historical policy was historian Juozas Jurginis, and when analyzing the features of this scientist’s behaviour, it appears that he lends himself quite well to identification with the Ancient Roman god of beginnings and transgressions, Janus, commonly depicted with two faces turned in opposite directions. These personal characteristics are what determine the features of Jurginis’ activities in the field of Soviet-era historical policy:

1. regular challenging of the official discourse; 2. attempts at “getting up on his feet” following the waves of criticism and self-criticism that these challenges would end up provoking; 3. ideological decisions and behaviour; 4. trying to remain on the opposition’s side whilst minding the external rules of the official discourse (inciting “heresies” whilst reading classic Marx- ist works) 5. games and irony.

Juozas Jurginis’ attitude towards Lithuania’s history, his declared methodological principles and attempts at correcting the official depiction of the past constantly caused tensions and brought on waves of criticism. Jurginis’ consistently demonstrated independence has been noted by philosopher Bronius Genzelis, who had the opportunity to observe the situation of researchers of the past in the Soviet period from a distance created by belonging to another academic community – the philosophers: 130 Aurimas Švedas In the historians’ community, Jurginis was for a long time Žiugžda’s indirect yet factual opponent. Jurginis tried to avoid open confrontations with the then director of the Institute, but his position regarding various issues was often oppositional. Other historians were not so bold.413

This position of being different was quite evident to the Party leaders at the time as well. According to Lionginas Šepetys:

At least I was of the opinion that Juozas Žiugžda was the government’s historian, one who loyally served and carried out various directives. Juozas Jurginis meanwhile was a scientist with a much broader scope who took an interest in other fields in humanities. The condition of the science of history in the country in many cases depended on these two researchers of the past, the director of the Institute of History and his deputy.414

The attitude and behaviour of Žiugžda’s antipode, Jurginis, created probably the most prominent opposition to the unified schemes of the depiction of the past in the public space during the Soviet period. Jurginis’ provision of constantly highlighting the importance of problematic thinking was especially visible in his work environment – meetings held at the Institute of History. “We need to approach scientific work as if it were an algebraic task” – this principle thesis which revealed the essence of Jurginis’ attitude was heard in 1962 when he was part of the board deliberating a science candidate’s dissertation.415 And there are quite a number of similar exclamations.416 Jurginis constantly encouraged his colleagues not to restrict themselves to simply referring to material, but to engage in broader contexts, “and that entails keeping up to date on reading literature and selecting those questions which are considered problematic”.417 Some of his colleagues saw this position as being too quarrelsome. On January 10, 1958, during the annual meeting of the Institute of History’s directorate and the union, dedicated to discussing the Archaeology-Ethnography sector’s staff annual reports, the head of the sector Pranas Kulikauskas expressed his dissatisfaction over the “deputy director’s constant reproaches that the archaeologists were not doing their job, saying they had to stop digging and write books instead”.418 This last comment ignited a polemic discussion. When Kulikauskas aired his opinion that “whatever the degree of research of archaeological monu- ments might be, it is always useful”, Jurginis reacted with the comment that “science is possible when you know what you’re looking for”,419 which clearly Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 131 revealed the reasons behind the Institute’s deputy director’s “fault-finding quarrelling” with his colleagues. Another important effort continually promoted by Jurginis was that researchers of the past should be as open-minded as possible, and work on broadening their scope. He encouraged his colleagues to boldly embrace new projects and themes. On February 8, 1963, at a meeting of the Institute of His- tory’s Party nomenklatura, the union and the directorate, where the 1962 work results and plans for 1963 were being discussed, Jurginis noted:

The Institute’s colleagues should try to widen their scope, to build the culture of writing and discussion. The pedagogical publishers are re- questing a collection of articles for secondary school readers – we should jump at this opportunity. Even if not all the articles we write would be considered immediately suitable for printing, the act of their writing would serve as good practice.420

Jurginis touched on the issue of historians’ open-mindedness again in 1973 within the Institute of History’s science board during a discussion about the History of Feudalism sector’s work.

The History of Feudalism sector was formed as a separate branch a few years ago. Some colleagues brought with themselves a certain kind of baggage from within the chronological framework of the earlier period. In relation to this, in their work I sense a unique transitional stage of becoming involved in feudalism-related issues. I am of the opinion that perhaps it is not worth restricting the initiatives of our scientific colleagues in their choice of research object. Work concentrating on the issues of just one social-economic formation hinders the development of a researcher’s abilities. Escaping from the framework of one or another period significantly helps broaden a scientist’s outlook and raise their qualification.421

Urging others to investigate always new mysteries of the past, Jurginis was himself a very dynamic scientist whose interests ranged from specific issues in medieval history that only specialists could comprehend, to attempts at popularizing science amongst the broader public. There are over a thousand publicizing texts, essays and scientific studies that can be attributed to Jurginis’ pen.422 Jurginis associated the ability of researchers of the past to not confine themselves within narrow thematic and chronological frames with his urging to always be mindful of readers’ needs. He was disconcerted by the fact that at 22 Juozas Jurginis dedicated a great deal of attention to popularizing science, however official events organized in the name of this goal were more likely seen as a waste of time in his view. A “Science Days” event in the Kupiškis district in the 1970s. Rep- resentatives from the LSSR Academy of Sciences meet with district Party staff, labourers and farmers. Jurginis is second from left Courtesy of Julius Jurginis. the time, there was practically no clear division between scientific and popular literature and that no regard was paid to the interested intended readers’ needs:

And when these two types of literature are thrown into one heap, as is usually the case in dissertations, you get neither fish nor meat, and the publishers don’t know what to do with this kind of material, what readership it should be aimed at. And so these works end up lying on the bookshelves. Even worse off are the brochures with ideologically relevant subtitles. Like mice, they eat up a lot of paper and funds.423

As has already been mentioned, Jurginis not only conscientiously promoted ideas that would popularize science, but sought their realization himself.424 Consistently applying the mentioned principles in his own research, Ju- rginis tried to establish a unique harmony between science and art, sometimes adding a touch of craft to his work: “At present, craft is repeating the existing answers, art is encouraging the raising of new questions, while science is the ability to answer those questions”.425 The courage to ask the most various things about the past and the ability to discover the most unexpected answers and formulate original conclusions Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 133 often appeared to Jurginis’ colleagues like unfounded hurrying and the pursuit of popularity. However, it was not these characteristics that caused the greatest tensions. Jurginis had on several occasions mentioned that he was concerned about the entrenched habit of “two-toning” (re)constructions of the past in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography. In his review of poet Justinas Marcinkevičius’ drama Mindaugas (as was mentioned earlier, this drama which highlighted the creation of the Lithuanian state, the tragedy of the first and last Lithuanian king, and the falsification of historical truth which simply shook the Soviet Lithua- nian public), Jurginis made it quite clear that “black chroniclers” still existed. “You can often hear of historians being ordered to depict the past the right way, that it is necessary to stress what was advanced at a particular time, and what was reactionary, what can be adopted as a valuable legacy, and what should be rejected as contemptible rubbish”.426 According to Jurginis, these requirements that were expected of historians which created blackish-whitish pictures of the past made its researchers similar to the characters in Marcinkevičius’ drama:

Progress in history does not follow a straight line, but ascends like a spiral, where while one side rises, at the same time another descends. Those who demand of historians to depict the past the right way come across as knowing in advance how that truth should appear, and end up being judges of the truth. They do not acknowledge the spiral comparison, and want to see progress rise in a straight line. Their requirements force some chroniclers to be white, while the others must turn black.427

This review never ended up being published in the Soviet period,428 but the problems that Jurginis identified and was concerned about were listed in his article “Kada istorija įdomi” [When history is interesting].429 Incidentally, while there is no blinding divide between “white” and “black” chroniclers in the mentioned text, there is still some bite to it. Taking an in-depth approach to answering the question of when history became interesting, Jurginis distinguished two methodological directions in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography that were represented by the “deciders” and the “illustrators”. The latter had chosen the easiest path and thus made history boring and unneccessary to the public. Jurginis described the “illustrators” as falsifier of the historical truth. They “grabbed facts and events and heaped them into a pile to support a pre-selected claim. In the works by these kinds of historians, the aim is to expose someone or something, to point them out, to show them up, to por- tray them, but not to answer the question raised by life’s contrasts”. Whereas 134 Aurimas Švedas the “deciders”, according to Jurginis, consciously chose the more difficult path: “they take the entirety of facts or events, and from all the “for” or “against” arguments, they reach a conclusion – a decision”.430 Both the public and the history “supervisors” reacted to this provocation aimed at the official discourse, because, as the Lithuanian émigré press which closely followed the polemic initiated by Jurginis correctly noted that, “the direction of objective historians can potentially lead them away from compre- hending communist ideology”.431 It should not be difficult to guess the reaction of Soviet ideologues, but their candour was somewhat surprising. In a note dated May 27,1967 prepared by Šepetys, the head of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Science and Culture Branch, that was addressed to Sniečkus, it was claimed that “of late, a somewhat non-conducive creative atmosphere for scientific research work in the field of history has developed. This can be seen from comrade Jurginis’ article “Kada istorija įdomi” [When history is interesting]. […] The author does not support his conclusions with any specific statements, but from the sub-text it may be surmised that he tends to consider himself a “decidion-maker”, whereas comrade Žiugžda and the work conducted in the post-war years in this field he attributes to the first group. Such absolute criticism, without identifying any specific works, is unjustified. We have the situation where the quarrelling and disagreements have gone beyond the boundaries of the Institute and the science of history itself. All of this is being commented on by the young historians in particular, and the Lithu- anian studies researchers, and is fostering collective-dividing tendencies”.432 Jurginis expanded on the ideas that caused this stir in his next article “Ar mokome istoriškai galvoti?” [Do we know how to think historically?], noting that he was ill at ease with the practice where the past was being distorted, “the whole being replaced by parts, and claims being asserted based on individual examples”.433 He ironically termed this behaviour as “metaphysical” and “scholasticism”, demonstrating that he objected to the spiritless repetition of ideological postulates and straining to make a jumble of facts represent the truth. In various situations in his life, this attitude maintained by Jurginis often came across as opposition towards the falsification of depictions of the past, the categorization of historical phenomena as “white” or “black”, and the bandy- ing around of unfounded assessments. This is obvious from Jurginis’ attempts at opposing the thesis formulated in Moscow, which was approved in Cen- tral Committee of the LCP (B) cabinets and recklessly promoted by Žiugžda, concerning the Grand Duchy of Lithuania not being deemed worthy of closer examination as a historical subject. Countering this opinion, Jurginis argued that the GDL before the Battle of Grunwald should be viewed as a political Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 135 derivative that played a positive role. In a meeting titled “On the situation of social sciences at the academies of sciences of the Latvian SSR, Lithuanian SSR and Estonian SSR and the main directions in research” in which scholars from the entire Soviet Union participated, that was held on December 29, 1966, Ju- rginis exclaimed to his colleagues from Moscow:

In the territory of today’s Soviet Union, which encompasses Eastern Eu- rope, there were three states: Rus’ia, Lithuania and Livonia. […] I would like to focus on the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. The prevailing opinion today is that this was an illegal state and that it is forbidden from saying anything positive about it. Meanwhile we believe that the Grand Duchy of Lithuania played a positive role in the history of Eastern Europe. It served as a barrier against the German’s pressure from the West to the East, and against Tatar attacks from the East on the West.434

Jurginis expressed similar opinions at the Institute of History’s science board meeting on February 21,1975 where the discussion was about the chapters he had written for the single-volume History of the Lithuanian SSR in Russian. When presenting his text, the historian noted:

This chapter presents important conceptual topics, such as: the creation of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and its collapse, and its historical significance. […] The Grand Duchy of Lithuania was created by the Lithuanian nation as a class society. Up until the Battle of Grunwald, its historical significance should be viewed positively – as a force that resisted the expansion of the Teutonic Order.435

Such exclamations that called into question a fundamental Soviet historiographical thesis (the history of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania should be viewed exclusively negatively, in every way highlighting the detriment of this political derivative to the Lithuanian nation and region) aroused the anger of history censors who quietly started keeping Jurginis’ “sin-list”, and given the opportunity, they initiated criticism campaigns against this historian over his “ideological errors”. Consistent efforts to avoid ideological extremes can be seen also in Jurginis’ attitude towards the periodization of Lithuania’s history. He tried to combine the model of changes in socio-economic formations with the concept of the spread of statehood, for which he was exposed to especially harsh criticism. See pp. 183–189. 136 Aurimas Švedas Jurginis’ expression of his opinions that were out of line with the official discourse was sometimes conveyed very loudly and would result in a scan- dal. In 1951, reading a lecture at the University of Marxism-Leninism titled “The Soviet Union in the Fight for the Reinstatement and Development of the People’s Economy and the Gradual Transition to Communism”, he allowed himself to share his experiences from a visit to the USA in 1939–1940, and also, according to an inspector of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) who was monitoring his lecture, “he started to idealize farmer-run farms and their everyday organization, and to condemn the USSR’s collective farm sys- t e m”. 436 Information about this speech made by Jurginis quickly reached the Central Committee of the LCP (B). During a meeting of the Central Com- mittee of the LCP (B) held on April 20, 1951, where the raising of the level of ideological work in higher education schools was being discussed, Mečis- lovas Gedvilas made a particularly dramatic assessment of this situation: “Regarding Jurginis, if he actually made these claims during his lecture as we have been led to believe, then we are talking not about errors, but about anti-Soviet activities”.437 The president of the Academy of Sciences, Matulis, noted in his memoirs:

An order from the Party propaganda organs was handed down quite soon to discuss Jurginis’ behaviour at the next Academy of Sciences staff meeting, where he was to be sternly denounced and released from his position. Luckily I was able to postpone this discussion by three weeks. By that time, the heat from the Party dogmatists had subsided and, following some thorough criticism, or more correctly some “lashings”, as there were no grounds for serious criticism, it sufficed to demote Ju- rginis from his position as the deputy director of the Institute of His- tory and leave him as a junior research fellow.438

During the ritualized ideological “lashing”, Matulis dramatically exclaimed that Jurginis had made a “hostile attack” and had “behaved obsequiously in face of the customs of the imperialist camp”. Žiugžda seconded the president of the Academy of Sciences at the next meeting, stressing that the display of servitude was indeed “slavish”. A reminder followed that “comrade Jurginis has on numerous occasions drawn attention and received strict orders over his expressions of objectivism in his scientific research work”.439 This example could be viewed as a display of bravado coming from a self-re- specting individual, a temporary slip, or ideological short-sightedness. Another version of this event is also quite possible: not always capable of ignoring the Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 137 ideological schemes that were constantly shoved before him, Jurginis would sometimes use the only weapon he had left – irony. Jurginis’ most serious challenge thrown in the face of Soviet thinking and the piecing together of a past nothing like the original was related to the textbook on the history of the Lithuanian SSR that he prepared and was released in 1957.440 This text was an alternative to part one of the “black three-volume” edited by Žiugžda (1957)441 and jumped ahead of the release of the short course on the history of the Lithuanian SSR (1958).442 A much more correct approach to the past of the Lithuanian nation is presented in Jurginis’ textbook, and this itself served as an important point of reference for the formation of the public’s historical consciousness at the time, for people who were searching for alternatives to the discourse being formed by Žiugžda and his cronies. The release of Jurginis’ textbook can be considered as one of the most serious signs that the Thaw had taken place in Lithuanian historiography, and his destiny again reveals the superficiality of the mentioned changes in the field of history. At first, Jurginis’ initiative was met with widespread approval. During a discussion about the textbook held at the Ministry of Education on January 29, 1957 no fundamental comments were made against the author. The history teachers who were present at the meeting mostly discussed which student year levels it would be most suitable for. The representative of the Pedagogical Institute Gentvila-Bičkauskas made a few comments of an ideological nature. Almost all of the meeting’s participants agreed that the textbook needed to be published and released as soon as possible.443 Jurginis’ colleagues from the Institute of History who deliberated his text on February 8, 1957 were much more active in their appraisal and offered a number of suggestions as to how the textbook should be improved. Some of them offered scientifically sound and correct suggestions, others – “ideologically correct” recommendations, however the final word by Žiugžda who summarized the meeting’s results left no one with any doubts: “Having made the mentioned corrections, the textbook must be printed”.444 The Party elite also showed their good will. During the 7th Plenum of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) held on December 3–4, 1957, Paleckis noted that “now, with a great easement in ideological work, we have a history textbook that despite being short is useful, and young people must be made aware of it”.445 Sniečkus was also in agreement, saying that regardless of “a few shortcomings, we must bring this textbook into widespread u s e”. 446 The first secretary maintained a similar opinion at the 10th Congress of the LCP (B) in 1958. Reasoning about Lithuania’s past, Sniečkus uncharac- teristically exclaimed that “it is not only those historical figures who became eminent leaders of the masses and promulgators of the will of the people that 138 Aurimas Švedas need to find their place in the history of the Lithuanian nation, but also those figures, amongst them, the dukes, who despite representing the exploitative class nevertheless objectively speaking played a significant role in the history of the Lithuanian nation”. This was the context in which Jurginis textbook was mentioned, as “correctly addressing” the mentioned issues in a “Marx- ist-Leninist light”.447 The first reviews of the textbook in question were also relatively good-na- tured.448 This raises the question: Why was the reaction to Jurginis’ “errors” not immediate? The errors would have been completely obvious to the censors protecting the “ideological virginity” of historians as soon as the first edition was released. It is difficult to give one, single answer to this question – most likely, the fact that there were no Lithuanian history textbooks prompted a more relaxed approach to the text by Jurginis. In 1988, remembering the circumstances under which the History of the Lithuanian SSR textbook was removed from circulation, Jurginis was not inclined to speaking outright and noted instead that in 1960–1961, Lithuanian history started being taught as part of the History of the USSR course:

Five editions were released, the sixth was cancelled, and the separate teaching of the history of Lithuania in schools was suspended. This move was not the result of some order sent from a Moscow bureaucrat, but based on the theory of national policy which proclaimed that we have entered the era of mature socialism, a coming-together of nations is underway, forming a united Soviet people, which is why there can be only one Soviet (state) patriotism and one fatherland.449

The onset of this latest “lashing” campaign aimed at Jurginis was also influenced by the fact that back in 1959, at the plenum of the Central Commit- tee of the CPSU (B) held in Moscow, the leadership of the LCP (B) had been accused of “nationalistic tendencies” and localism [mesthichestvo] and had to publicly “repent” and display “vigilance” in applying preventative measures to combat one of the “sins” most dangerous to the Soviet person.450 However, the most important reason and basis for the radically negative assessments of this textbook was the resolution of the Central Committee of the CPSU (B) from August 16, 1961 “On serious errors in Jurginis’ textbook History of the Lithuanian SSR and Readings on the History of the Lithuanian SSR. The Central Committee of the LCP (B) reacted operatively, and already on September 15, 1961 a similar resolution was passed where it was highlighted that Jurginis’ Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 139 text contained numerous “serious shortcomings and ideological errors”. The author was accused of objectivism, idealism of the past, applying a misleading periodization and of maintaining an incorrect stance on a majority of the fundamental issues in Lithuanian history.451 Incidentally, the first serious sign of the storm that was brewing above Ju- rginis’ head would have to have been the discussion of his textbook initiated by the Ministry of Education on January 13, 1961, during which the republic’s pedagogues did not hold back in their criticism. What is interesting is that teachers’ opinions on what was wrong in the textbook differed: some considered Jurginis’ text to be inadequately ideologically sound, while others would have liked to have seen more details in the sections on the Battle of Grun- wald or the announcement of Lithuania’s Act of Independence on February 16, 1918 (both obvious nationalistic accents)… Yet the inspector of the Educa- tional Methods Branch of the Ministry of Education, Irena Leimontienė, who summarized the meeting, made it quite clear that the most important “sins” committed by Jurginis lay in the ideological realm. This is why, according to her, “there was no reason for the notes of sympathy that were heard during the discussion regarding the textbook’s author”.452 This phrase about sympathy proved to be prophetic. The waves of criticism that crashed over Jurginis throughout 1961 pulverized him without a moment’s respite. The verdict of the Central Committee of the CPSU (B) put into motion the ideological “pressure” mechanism that functioned without any remorse – having received a directive from Moscow, the Central Committee of the LCP (B) discussed in detail the measures that would have to be taken in order to repair the “damage” that Ju- rginis’ textbook had caused. One measure was to organize a planned discussion of the textbook’s errors in the press, which ended up being implemented. The controversies surrounding assessments of the 19th century in Jurginis’ textbook were discussed by Šarmaitis.453 The text was “dissected” comprehensively in the following article by the director of the Institute of Party History and Vladimir Pashuto titled “Creating a complete Lithuanian history textbook”, printed in Issue 18 of Коммунист in Moscow in 1962.454 The “heretic” was condemned by his colleagues historians, and from the most important platform in the Lithuanian SSR: reading a report at the 13th Congress of the LCP (B), Sniečkus listed the critical “shortcomings” of the textbook.455 The extent of this campaign was undoubtedly determined by the degree of Moscow’s irritation – Andrejev, Peskovski and Pashuto who had reviewed Jurginis’ textbook pin-pointed the author’s clear leaning towards nationalism in the text that was 25 pages in length. Discussing the depiction of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania as an epoch, the authors of the review stated: 140 Aurimas Švedas “Contradicting the historical truth, the fateful role in the East European nations’ fight against the Teutonic Order and its allies has been attributed solely to Lithuania”.456 In discussions on issues from the 18th–20th centuries, Jurginis’ orientations were also completely obvious to his reviewers:

In discussing the period in question, the author reverts to a bourgeois-nationalist approach. Throughout the entire account, the question of nationalism stands out like a red line, alleged to be the most important issue to the Lithuanian nation in the mentioned period (as opposed to the class struggle).457

Meanwhile, in their analysis of how the events of 1905–1907 are presented in Jurginis’ text, the review’s authors do not even attempt to hide their annoyance or astonishment:

Alongside the brief summary of the revolutionary events in Lithuania, the textbook’s author allocates an entire sub-section to describing the bourgeois-nationalist “Vilnius Seimas” which took place at the end of 1905. […] The entire description of the 1905–1907 revolution covers [only] five pages in the textbook – and out of these, a whole page (i.e., a fifth of the total text on this period) is dedicated to this bourgeois nationalists’ contrivance. Surely this is hardly of any importance to school students?!458

Having closely examined Jurginis’ text, his other anonymous critics found a total of twenty-five “errors and shortcomings” of various kinds.459 Keeping in mind that one misjudged move could be enough to fall into disfavour with the Party, it becomes clear why the textbook in question was attacked so ve- hemently, and why its author was forced to experience probably the most difficult stage of his academic career.460 Jurginis’ challenges thrown at the official discourse and his behaviour in the face of various ideological prohibitions and historiographical rules not only afforded him the label of a “petty bourgeois liberal” which was applied to “unreliable elements” during the Soviet period, but also left him exposed to criticism from “ideological positions”. Jurginis’ old opponent, the high-ranking Party functionary and Soviet state official Motiejus Šumauskas, exploited this opportunity, accusing the latter of “breaking a revolutionary’s moral principles” in his book of memoirs Kovų verpetai [In the Whirlwind of Battles]. Relating his account of his time with Jurginis in prison (where they had been locked Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 141 up in independent Lithuania in 1937 for spreading socialist ideas in society), Šumauskas mentioned that Jurginis had strayed from the ideas of orthodox Marxism and had started doubting certain “fundamental truths”, whilst his submission of a request for a shorter sentence broke “the moral principle of a revolutionary’s behaviour”.461 Wanting to voice his “arguments” to the maximum, even in 1970 Šumauskas had presented the Central Committee of the LCP (B) with a notice on Jurginis’ activities, which, according to him, were out of line with a real communist’s behaviour. In this notice there are claims that later came out in Kovų verpetai, that are exaggerated as much as possible and aim to prove that Jurginis not only never showed remorse over his “errors”, but was bold enough to be proud of them. As a result of this erroneous position, according to Šumauskas:

… Our ideological enemies – émigré nationalists – jumped on Jurginis’ works, and have praised him in their publications, naming him as the “only” historian in Lithuania. This assessment of history is particularly beneficial for the nationalists, as it is one where Jurginis glosses over the social contradictions.462

The Central Committee of the LCP (B) sent this notice by Šumauskas to the Academy of Sciences Party organization in 1974 and gave authorization for them to analyze it and reach a decision regarding Jurginis’ possible “errors”. This latter move shows that the Party’s leaders wanted to shirk responsibility, yet on the other hand, there were no grounds for pretending that nothing had happened. That is why the ideological coercion mechanisms were set in motion once again. Šumauskas’ attack turned out to be not just a carefully planned way of checking Jurginis’ loyalty to the Party – it was also a manifold evaluation of his scientific activities. On September 16, 1974 the Institute of History Party organization formed a commission that, in response to Šumauskas’ complaint, prepared a notice stating that “Jurginis’ works often lack a deeper application of Marxist ideology, there are expressions of objectivism, idealization of the past, and an erroneous interpretation of the facts”.463 The conclusions state that in his political and scientific activities, Jurginis has made “major errors that are difficult or impossible to rectify”. Topping off all these accusations was the following verdict: “The commission recommends the Party organization take severe measures in punishing Juozas Jurginis for his mistakes, those made not just in the past, but also for refusing to purge himself of these mistakes and their continued repetition during his recent period of activity”.464 142 Aurimas Švedas The notices by Šumauskas and the Party commission were discussed at a meeting of the Institute of History’s Party organization, held on September 26, 1974. During his speech, Jurginis reminded the meeting’s participants not to confuse his personal file with his scientific activities, as in this case, according to the accused revolutionary’s breaking of behavioural principles, the In- stitute’s commission was inclined to avoid the socio-political aspect (which is what was required of it) and discuss his scientific output.465 This was a beneficial tactical move, as among the meeting’s participants, the prevailing opinion was that in 1956 Jurginis was accepted as a member of the Party having taken into broader consideration his biographical facts, which is why any decisions made now would call into question the Party’s actions back then. On the other hand, the Institute’s Party organization confronted a similar contradiction trying to evaluate Jurginis’ scientific activities. Even though the meeting’s participants stressed that this scientist’s “circle of research is too wide and in some cases his formulations of Marxist methodology should have been clearer”, and that in his texts sometimes it is possible to sense “an incapability of applying Marxist theory in practice”, the academic’s name, the fact that he was awarded a republic prize, and his public popularity meant the commission could not easily reach the verdict so desired by Šumauskas. Kazys Varašinskas, one of the Institute’s members of scientific staff, gave the best description of this collision resulting from the afore-mentioned meeting:

Jurginis is an academic, a doctor of history, a professor. It is not clear why an academic cannot head the sector. In this respect, it is impossible to accept the Party Bureau’s recommendation of dismissing him from his position as head of the sector. If an academic cannot head a sector, then the ace goes to the Lithuanian émigré propaganda. What kind of Academy of Sciences is this then, which made Jurginis an academic in the first place?466

The scientist’s situation during his “lynching” by the Party organization was made somewhat easier by the circumstance that some of the meeting’s participants openly doubted whether the recommendation being pushed was necessary at all. In the end, all the circumstances gave the following vote results: nine ballots “for”, four ballots “against” and four who abstained from voting on “changing comrade Jurginis’ Party ticket without any penalties”.467 Šumauskas was not satisfied with the Institute of History Party organization’s verdict and he initiated a closed meeting of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) on February 10, 1975, during which Jurginis’ file was discussed Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 143 once again. However Šumauskas’ idea of forming a commission from members of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau, whose conclusions would later be deliberated during a hearing of the Central Committee Court of the LCP (B) was rejected. The course of this particular meeting was precisely recorded by Šarmaitis, the director of the Institute of Party History, in his journal in the years 1975–1986.468 In the recorded details of the discussion, he noted that the members of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) had acknowledged Jurginis’ “ideological inconsistency”, but at the same time they had doubted whether the measures being recommended by Šumauskas were correct. Incidentally, the latter did not give up at this point, and tried in every manner imaginable to harm Jurginis in other ways. So it was that in 1974–1975, one of the most eminent figures of Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography managed to withstand this, one of many storms of criticism, which not only yet again revealed the tensions being raised by his independent thinking, but also signalled several trends: 1) in the mid-1970s after a period of relative calm, the community of historians once again was exposed to new pressure from the Party elite; 2) even in the slowly thawing environment, the treatment of fundamental issues regarding ideology was monitored particularly closely. The analysis reveals that Jurginis consistently defended his right to independent thought, constructed a periodization of Lithuania’s history that was incompatible with the officially sanctioned version, and created and propagated, according to his critics, bourgeois objectivism and nationalist ideology-tainted depictions of the past. Here we are faced with an unavoidable question: what determined Jurginis’ “immortality”? In order to bring down the academic career of any researcher of the past, just one intense criticism campaign would have sufficed: meanwhile Jurginis withstood a number of frustrating accusations. To find the answer to this question, we must evaluate not only this scientist’s acquired “symbolic capital”, but also the factor of his public significance and sometimes hard-to-comprehend vitality. The -im portance of “symbolic capital” is an aspect Gudavičius, who spent many years working with Jurginis, is similarly inclined to highlight:

This historian had already established himself as a figure. And it must be said that after Stalin’s death, a scientist’s professionalism certainly carried more weight. And the Party itself came to value these things more and more. In my opinion, it is precisely this context which helped Jurginis survive.469 144 Aurimas Švedas Meanwhile Jurginis’ son Julius told us that after each avalanche of criticism, his father would purposefully search for ways of resuming spreading various kinds of texts, using all the opportunities available to him to “legitimize himself”:

Incidentally, my father, recalling the various campaigns during which he was reproached for one or another “scientific sin”, liked to repeat: “Son, I am like a cat. No matter how many times life throws me from the rooftop, like a cat, I have always landed on my feet”.470

And nevertheless, it appears that these arguments are still not enough to help us understand the “Janus” phenomenon. The Soviet system’s repressive mechanisms mercilessly dealt not only with esteemed researchers, but also with individuals occupying the highest Party positions. Meanwhile Jurginis, one who often balanced on the edge of the abyss, was able to survive thanks to the protection of Sniečkus, the first secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B). This fateful factor has been mentioned by some of the historian’s colleagues and other witnesses from the time when discussing what determined the fact that after the events at the University of Marxism-Leninism in 1951, or during the critique campaign of 1961, Jurginis managed to survive. Commenting on the circumstances that had unfolded in 1951, Jučas drew attention to the first secretary’s influence on the course of events:

Jurginis had even gone to see Sniečkus and said: “I have a diploma in irrigation, should I leave altogether?” Sniečkus stopped him from taking this action, but instead of acting as deputy director, Jurginis was demoted to junior research fellow.471

According to Julius Jurginis, the assistance of the highest Party functionary in Lithuania also had a fateful impact in 1961.472 This version of events can be confirmed by the historian’s own letter to Sniečkus written on December 1, 1961, where he asks the latter to mediate so that the doctoral dissertation titled “The Growth of Serfdom in Lithuania”, already set to be printed but having been removed from the printing process by decree of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) would still be published.473 Sniečkus’ assistance, according to witnesses from the time, in various critique campaigns was much appreciated and openly acknowledged by Jurginis himself. Allegedly, ahead of the release of Šumauskas’ book Kovų verpetuose and the possible new waves of criticism Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 145 it could provoke, “he said that he had lived through more than enough similar campaigns. But earlier he had felt the support of the secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Sniečkus. Now the situation was more complicated. Sniečkus himself was ill […] In addition, he had been frightened by the demonstrations in Kaunas one year ago that arose after Romas Kalanta set himself on fire [1972]”.474 Sniečkus valued this executor of important tasks in the pre-war period (he acted as a mediator between the Party secretariat in Moscow and members of the Central Committee in Kaunas in 1937–1939, and executed a Party task in the USA in 1939) and did not allow the cogwheels of the repressive mechanism to destroy one of the most important opponents who was unafraid of publicly voicing his dissatisfaction with the official historical discourse. Was this kind of behaviour exhibited by Sniečkus determined only by nostalgic memories of his “revolutionary youth”? Perhaps it was a clever way of coun- terbalancing the official discourse being so savagely promoted by Žiugžda? At first glance, both versions would appear valid. A more precise answer to this question could be reached only by first making a complex assessment of the specific details and dynamics of the Party leaders’ “Byzantine” relations with various humanities, cultural and creative communities of the time. The Sovi- et-era Atlantis that was sinking into non-existence presented researchers of the past with a complicated riddle concerning the situation of the individual within the Soviet system.

Tensions in the Historians’ Community in the 1970s–1980s As has already been mentioned, failing to radically reform the official discourse in 1956, a relative peace took hold within the community of historians. It was broken on March 13, 1973 during a meeting of the LCP (B) nomenklatura which was aimed at discussing the tasks ahead in ideological-political work and in regards to degrees of internationalism. In the early 1970s questions of this nature started being incorporated more and more frequently into the task plans of the LCP (B) leadership due to the renewed Russification tendencies being felt across the whole Soviet Union, which in turn impacted on historical research. Certain facts pointed to the very real possibility of the community of historians once again being attacked by criticism from the party functionaries. Researchers of the past themselves were well aware of the seriousness of the developing situation. During a meeting 146 Aurimas Švedas of the Institute of History’s Party organization, held on May 31, 1972, the secretary Giedrius Butkus gave quite an accurate description of the critical level of dangerous symptoms that had accumulated, naming the most important (real and imagined) shortcomings in the institution’s work: Volume IV of the History of the Lithuanian SSR was late, the preparation of the academic history course in Russian was “of concern”, vigilant censors had found fault with the collection of documents on the abolition of the Lithuanian press ban that had been compiled by the Institute in 1971 and recommended for publication,475 and somehow Gaigalaitė’s book titled Klerikalizmas Lietuvoje 1919–1940 metais [Clericalism in Lithuania in 1919–1940] had been released by the Institute,476 and received “strict and justified” criticism.477 An addition to Butkus’ list of disconcerting facts would be the critique of the book Vilniaus miesto istorija nuo Spalio revoliucijos iki dabartinių dienų [History of Vilnius from the Oc- tober Revolution to Today]478 which appeared in bookstores in 1972, and the “ideological errors” which angered Party leaders that appeared in Izidorius Butkevičius’ monograph Lietuvos valstiečių gyvenvietės ir sodybos [The Lith- uanian Peasantry’s Settlements and Farmsteads].479 In the mentioned meeting that took place on March 31, 1973, Sniečkus reservedly praised historians for the tasks they had accomplished, yet also stressed that there was “still a lack of fundamental research on the most relevant problems of this contemporary period”. An example would be the Insti- tute of History’s Ethnography sector where “certain staff who had researched contemporary topics were now concentrated almost exclusively on problems from the past”.480 Urging them to search for an optimal division of labour across various fields of research, Sniečkus expressed his concern that the past was sometimes being idealized in historians’ works, whilst a class approach was often missing from the assessment of complicated socio-economic phenomena. This led the first secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) to speak out on the persisting “united stream” recurrences in historians’ works.481 Sniečkus was seconded by the director of the Institute of History Bronius Vaitkevičius, who highlighted that some scientists “did not understand or did not want to understand a fundamental thing – the method of researching present public life”. According to Vaitkevičius, the public life research method “demanded a class or Party approach when analyzing and assessing historical processes and phenomena. A historian must write objectively in reconstructing the historical truth with the help of facts. However, he should not forget that abstract, non-class-based historical “truths” do not and cannot exist in a class society. Much the same as there cannot be a non- Party approach to history”.482 Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 147 And so the stage was set for the reingition of the furnace of ideological tensions. “What happened on the historical front?” was the dramatic question posed by Vladas Niunka, the scientific secretary of the Academy of Sciences Party organization during its meeting on March 22, 1973, as part of a discussion on the Party nomenklatura’s meeting, adding that historians had ended up being the focus of criticism not by accident.483 The secretary of the Institute of History’s Party organization Vitalis Morkūnas could only agree with this kind of assessment, whilst the mentioned course of events showed researchers of the past that it was once again time to display the Bolshevik self-criticism “ritual”. On April 6, 1973, during a Party meeting of the Institute of History, scholars spoke on the reasons for this “fault” in their work and discussed the criticism that they had attracted. Several good, constructive suggestions on how the quality of their scientific production could be improved came from the meeting: Jurginis recommended that his colleagues resume the practice of deliberating and reviewing their work within the Institute. In this way, he said, they would avoid the various misunderstandings and inaccuracies in the texts being offered for printing. According to ethnographer Vaclovas Mil- ius, in order to orientate his colleagues towards contemporary research, they needed to be given the opportunity to boost their qualifications at institutions researching similar issues. It was also mentioned that it would be incorrect to completely abandon research of past times. Meanwhile Henrikas Šadžius discussed the main reasons for the History of Socialist Society sector’s work fault. Summarizing the speeches made, Niunka stressed that “more attention should be given to methodology, as the errors that appeared in the works were not intentional, but arose because some historians have a poor methodological education”.484 Deliberation of the same questions and a round of “ritual self-flagellation” resumed during an Institute of History Party organization meeting, held on October 4, 1973. Reading his announcement, Morkūnas noted that in response to the Party nomenklatura’s criticism, the sectors had reorganized their activities, reintroduced methodological seminars, and “authorized a plan of specific measures to raise the scientific and ideological level of the work being released by the Institute”.485 The fact that the tensions surrounding historians were not easing is evidenced by a remark by the Institute director Vaitkevičius, who summarized the discussion, saying that much attention needed to be given to raising the theoretical level of works as “we cannot forget the class and Party principle. There cannot be any deviations”.486 From this discussion it is evident that there are two reasons for the tensions in the community of historians. One is related to elementary faults in 23 Vigilant critics found various ideological–methodological “errors” in Izidorius Butkevičius’ monograph Lithuanian Peasants’ Set- tlements and Farmsteads. Izidorius Butkevičius in his office at the Institute of History in 1958. Courtesy of Angelė Vyšniauskaitė.

the texts and the consistent lateness of the scientific research work schedule. A large part of this fault, for subjective and objective reasons, fell on the staff of the Institute of History’s Socialism sector who was compiling Volume II of the History of Vilnius from the October Revolution until Today and did not abide by the set schedule of producing generalizing works. The sources of the second reason lie in certain parts of the texts by historian Tyla and ethnographer Butkevičius that were pointed out as demanding attention by their colleagues and the Party. A clearer distinction than this was not recorded at the time either by historians or their “supervisors”, but the resolution about “a poor methodological education” encompassed various – ideological and work-related – reproaches aimed at historians. These attempts at reacting to the con- demnations voiced by the Party nomenklatura were primarily directed at criticizing and preventing similar “deviations” as a result of ideological errors. The first to end up in the “crossfire” of criticism (by the Party and colleagues) was Butkevičius’ book. On March 29, 1974, during a meeting of the Institute of History’s research board, Vaitkevičius noted that the meeting itself was a planned event aimed at reacting to the comments made by Sniečkus on March 13, 1973 concerning ethnographers. And why indeed did the first Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 149 secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) stumble specifically on ethnography? Recalling the reasons for criticism of Butkevičius’ monograph, Milius first of all mentions the personal ambitions of separate functionaries:

In fact, the “first spark” for attacking Izidorius Butkevičius was the dissatisfaction voiced by the chairman of the Environmental Commit- tee Viktoras Bergas, that in the book, land surveyors were pictured as bribe-takers, moving peasants from one-street villages to allocated individual farmsteads after World War I. Viktoras Bergas was a surveyor by profession himself. He was rather displeased to hear Butkevičius’ rash idea that representatives of this profession took bribes. Incidentally, Bergas belonged to the Council of Ministers at the time. And the ru- mour of dissatisfaction did not take long to spread. However, as I have already mentioned, this was just the first impulse.487

The memories of the ethnographer Milius reveal that in this case, by mere coincidence, all it took was a more attentive glance through the pages of But- kevičius’ book for censors to find the various ideological-methodological “errors” it contained and the censorship and criticism mechanisms were in action again. Even though Antanas Daniliauskas who reviewed the monograph named it as “one of the major ethnographical studies”,488 the “genre” of the meeting meant the author of the study was not in line to hear compliments, but to have his sins against Marxist ideology pointed out. Daniliauskas’ main reproach was that, “Some of the material has been presented as if life for the 19th–20th-century Lithuanian peasants was not complete in a sociological-class sense. More- over, this gives a basis for presentation of an idealized view, and the author has not made his position sufficiently clear”.489 The head of the sector, Morkūnas, who spoke after Daniliauskas, noted that “the examination of ethnographic phenomena in terms of a social aspect arose as a methodological problem” and essentially repeated that Butkevičius had depicted Lithuanian village life too idealistically, without any social differences, whereas collective farms were portrayed as barren by comparison.490 Naming this “error” made by Butkevičius as a “very important methodological thing”, Morkūnas took the opportunity to warn the other scholars from the sector: “Already at the material-collection stage, it is necessary to be selective and approach ethnographical phenomena from a differentiated social aspect”.491 Šarmaitis, the director of the Institute of Party History who sat in on the meeting and performed the role of supervisor reproached the ethnographers discussing the monograph that they had 150 Aurimas Švedas selected overly gentle forms of criticism, and proceeded to demonstrate an example of Bolshevik polemics to his colleagues: “In discussing the book by Butkevičius, you must clearly say that in his examination of the subject, the author was lacking in the necessary Marxist methodological approach. In preparing his doctoral dissertation, comrade Butkevičius must present a Marx- ist assessment of ethnographic phenomena; otherwise there is the danger of slipping into an objectivist illustration of traditional villages and idealization of the past”.492 All of these speeches made during the meeting led to the verdict that “there are fundamental methodological shortcomings”.493 The formulation of this statement was both a serious reproach and also a signal that Butkevičius’ future scientific activities would be closely monitored. Thus, this first attack on the community of historians, inspired by the Party nomenklatura’s meeting, occurred in line with all of the rules of Bolshevik criticism and self-criticism that were valid at the time. Meanwhile the critique of the scientific activities of Tyla who was also accused of ideological mistakes took a rather different turn. The problem with this historian’s work The Case of the Abolition of the Lithuanian Press Ban appeared and matured in the years 1971–1975. The “methodological and factual errors” in this publication’s introduction and commentary were first mentioned at a meeting of the Institute of History’s Party organization held on May 31, 1972. The tension surrounding these errors increased one year later when the book had already left the printing press. As claimed by one of Tyla’s colleagues and a witness to these events, historian Ingė Lukšaitė, once the publication saw the light of day it “became a matter of ‘concern’ for the Institute’s directorate and the compiler because the theme from that period, in terms of forming a scientific orientation, was not meant to be researched […]. In the short 22-page introduction, Tyla made a very brief overview of statistics from the period of the Lithuanian press ban, on censorship of the press, on the deliberations that took place within the government of the Russian Em- pire concerning the ban’s effectiveness and outcomes, and linked the return of Lithuanian press with the social and political opposition movements that were underway in the Russian Empire. Via his introduction, Tyla delineated a Lithuanian historiographical research perspective by identifying a problem which was to officially preferably remain untouched at the time, not to mention risky for the scientist himself, however in terms of the inner development of Lithuanian historiography, precisely this type of research was necessary”.494 In recalling the circumstances of the compilation of this document collection, Tyla noted that he had to provide two edited versions of this publication’s introduction. The first, which was not published, also caused many problems: Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 151

After all, everything had to be explained from a class struggle position. Apparently, only it could force the “oppressors” to take one or another liberal step. This was the official scheme which I had to base my work on, showing the circumstances of the abolition of the press ban. How- ever, in the introduction of this collection I included excerpts of the Lithuanian intelligentsia’s recollections, and how tsarist Russia’s government personnel were bribed. […] These details from the collection’s introduction, as I have mentioned, were discussed and at the same time destroyed the neat class struggle scheme… I received strong criticism for this “challenging” position. That is why I had to write another introduction. […] The introduction and the publication itself were saved because in the very end I wrote a sentence where I stressed that by opposing the press ban, it did not mean that Lithuanians were opposed to the Russian nation as a whole.495

In trying to understand what brought on such a heavy-handed attack on Tyla, we must look at some reasons that are completely unrelated to research of the past – the fact that the KGB collected information on him and his family. In this case an important fact that gives us a better understanding of the historian’s complicated situation is the speech by the Chief of the Fifth Department of the LSSR KGB, M. Schensnovich, made on February 9, 1973 during a meeting of operative staff on the work that had been conducted in revealing unacceptable works in a political sense, where facts compromising this historian were mentioned: “In the post-war years, Tyla’s brother belonged to an armed nationalistic gang, and was killed, his other close relatives were repressed. Tyla himself, amongst his own company, did not avoid making ideologically harmful arguments”.496 Having to deal with this kind of reputational text by the historian, in terms of the logic of the Soviet system, was a priori not good. Thus, the book compiled by Tyla which nevertheless was printed, was immediately hidden away from any potential readers. As recalled by Tyla’s colleague, Vytautas Merkys:

In the end, the book was released. But it was banned from being sold at bookstores. The Institute’s staff who wished to acquire it had to receive written permission from the director and only then would the Insti- tute’s steward sell it to them. I remember when some archaeographers from Moscow arrived to visit us; the most famous amongst them was this Schmit fellow. They wanted to get this book, but Vaitkevičius was afraid of selling it to the Muscovites. When I became director of the 24 Antanas Tyla (first from right) with his colleagues from the In- stitute of History in 1976. Courtesy of Antanas Tyla.

Institute, around half of all the copies were still lying in the storehouse. At that stage I released it into circulation, then whoever wanted to could freely get this book.497

The tensions surrounding the researcher who had fallen out of line with the history censors and the science politicians of the day reached their apo- gee in 1975 when on June 26 during a meeting of the research board, Chapters 9–14 of the History of the Lithuanian SSR that was being prepared in Russian were analyzed. Konstantinas Navickas, Paulina Girdzijauskienė and Eugenija Griškūnaitė who reviewed the texts drew attention to the fact that “there were serious shortcomings in the chapters prepared by Tyla”. The harshest criticism came down from the head of the Department of Marxism-Leninism of the Conservatory of the Lithuanian SSR, Girdzijauskienė, who stated that the author of the texts should “give much more attention to the analysis of political events, to highlight the social struggle of the working people. Some matters have received a superficial treatment only…”498 Vaitkevičius seconded this opinion, adding that when reading Tyla’s “text, one gets the impression that it has been prepared by a beginner historian who has not grasped Marxist methodology”. The director went on and discussed what the “methodological shortcomings” were in Tyla’s text, the most serious being: the elevation of national matters, the interests and actions of separate classes and social groups Processes within the Official Discourse (1957–1985) 153 have not been revealed, the principles of international solidarity have been contravened, and authors who held erroneous ideological positions were not criticized. All of this was crowned by notions of “united stream” recurrences.499 Such a variety of accusations usually denoted the particular “seriousness” of the mistakes made. Recalling the details of the campaign that followed, Tyla drew attention to a personal moment:

I think I was mistaken in becoming involved in an overly difficult -po lemic with the co-author, who was also the director. This circumstance made the situation especially pointed. I was very critical of how Vait- kevičius used a certain phrase by [the patriarch of the 19th-century Lith- uanian revival] Jonas Basanavičiaus in the text. In 1916 he was travelling from Vilnius to Suvalkija and later wrote in his memoirs: “Everyone is waiting for the Russians to return”. Basanavičius goes on to explain this thought, but in the text of the synthesis Vaitkevičius used only this particular phrase. Having read it, I commented in the margin: “This is confusing. What was everyone waiting for to return? The police, the entire tsarist administration?” My comment was correct. […] Yet this gesture of mine was considered as very unfriendly criticism; all the more so that my comment in the mar- gins was read by other colleagues as well. In a sense, my behaviour was quite out of tact. And this action provoked a reaction.500

The Feudalism sector where Tyla worked did not react to this criticism. On April 9, 1976 when the matter of his attestation was being discussed, his colleagues described Tyla as “hard-working, disciplined, a scientific researcher with a number of successes under his belt, but we recommend that he play closer attention to critical comments”.501 The sector’s staff also had their doubts about the First Secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Petras Griškevičius’ comments on the theoretical immaturity of Tyla’s works, made during a republic-wide social sciences staff meeting in 1976. At a sector meeting on May 21, 1976 where the results of the aforementioned meeting were reviewed, it was stated that such accusations had no basis, as neither colleagues, nor reviewers had noticed methodological errors in the historian’s works.502 Echoes of the criticism directed at Tyla were heard again on April 22, 1977 at a meeting of the Institute’s research board, regarding the reelection of senior scientific research fellows. In this case the criticism was restricted to trivial phrases like “Comrade Tyla acknowledged his mistakes and noted that in future, he intends to be more careful in his work”.503 154 Aurimas Švedas In the analysis of the waves of criticism and ideological-methodological tensions from the second stage of Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography, a number of similarities in historians’ behaviour become apparent. In light of the accusations made against Jurginis by Šumauskas and the deliberation of Tyla’s “methodological errors”, historians expressed their doubts over the vi- ability of the verdicts sent down from above and either defused them or ignored them altogether. Can it be that the community of historians had become strong enough to allow itself to take such independent steps in the science policy sphere? Witnesses of these events do not confirm this presumption; when questioned on this during an interview, the historian Jučas was categorical in his response:

I doubt the hypothesis that someone would dare to justify a historian that the government had criticized. There were no such daredevils around in those days. Usually, all it would take was a single hint that something was wrong, and everyone would start to condemn their colleague who had “sinned”.504

Keeping this in mind, we should remember that the critique campaigns undertaken by the Party leadership during the second period of historiographical development, which coincided with the late Soviet period, were not as harsh, and that sometimes the community of historians itself was allowed to decide the fate of the “sinner”, creating a degree of freedom to manoeuvre within the system. This circumstance should be considered as a new feature of the official discourse. CHAPTER 4

“Syntheses of History”: The summa- Expression of the Official rizing course on the history Discourse and the Search of the Lith- uanian na- for Alternatives tion, as with analogous courses of the other Soviet nations, must reveal the correct depiction of the Lithuanian nation’s historical development based on a systemic and deeply scientific Marxist illustration of its past, and at the same time – it must transform the history of Lithuania into a powerful ideological weapon of the Soviet people in their battle against all manner of falsifications, against any theory opposing Marxism-Leninism which mirrors the imperialist policies of the bourgeoisie.505

“Syntheses of History” 157

The Periodization Model in Soviet-Era Syntheses of Lithuanian History When tackling the analysis of features of the Soviet historical discourse in specific texts, the main focus will be on the summarizing histories of the Lith- uanian SSR in which the most general depictions of the Lithuanian nation’s past were created. In this fourth chapter, as part of the reconstruction of such depictions, two of their qualitative dimensions shall be discussed – temporal and spatial models.506 When examining the listed texts, three questions shall be considered: Is there a logical foundation for the temporal and spatial models created in this book, are they consistent, and do they comply with the historical reality? Why, in certain cases, were Soviet-era historians forced to falsify the temporal and spatial models of Lithuanian history? What ideas or ideological provisions did historians try to draw attention to or hide using these falsifications? Temporal and spatial models are important not only for the fact that they make up the framework of any historical narrative or allow us to judge its quality. After all, in Soviet-era historiography, the unmoving foundation of any interpretation of history is the model of socio-economic formation which postulates the change mechanism between five socio-economic structures. Rafał Stobiecki, who has researched the process of implementation of the Stalinist science model in Poland, has completely justifiably called the socio-economic formation theory a universal interpretative scheme capable of localizing and contextualizing every historical event or phenomena.507 That is why in order to understand the most general depictions of Lithuania’s history created during the Soviet period, the first and primary concern should be to establish how this general formation scheme was applied to the specific features of temporal and spatial models of Lithuania’s history. No researcher of the past could avoid this application during the Soviet period. According to Mečislovas Jučas, “historians were always orientated towards the continuity of formations: the appearance of feudalism, the genesis of capitalism. These were the most important accents”.508 The reckless application of the socio-economic formation model was necessary to deny the fact of the Soviet occupation of Lithuania and to legitimize the socialist present. A similar goal was sought after in the modelling/falsification of the no longer independent Lithuanian state’s historical placement on the civilized world’s East–West divide. 25 During the Soviet period authors of historical syntheses had to constantly coordinate both the goal of representing the historical reality and fulfilling the ideological task of manipulating this reality. The process of selecting photographs for Volume III of the history of Vilnius University in 1978. In the centre – Vilnius University Rector Jonas Kubil- ius. Courtesy of Vidas Naujikas.

Thus, spatial and temporal models in Soviet syntheses became crucial categories that helped create the mask of Lithuanian history which hid the real characteristics of the Lithuanian nation’s past. All that remains now is to answer the question – what are the most prominent characteristics of this mask?

The Creation of the Periodization Model: Polemics and Criticism. Creators of the Soviet science of history had to reject the periodization model formed in pre-war Lithuania as it reflected fateful events in regards to Lithuania’s statehood. This was how the history of Lithuania, edited by Adolfas Šapoka, was written; a typical story of historical events (primarily political) that assumed the status of an inter-war symbol.509 As it was based on nationalist provisions, “Syntheses of History” 159 the temporal model of this history of Lithuania was not in the spirit of the new Soviet era. That is why the narrow ethnocentric approach to Lithuania’s and Lithuanians’ place in history was contrasted with the global and synchronic concept of the world’s evolution which barely hid its pro-Muscovite orientations and other ideological postulates that one of the most famous Lithuanian historians from the inter-war period, Zenonas Ivinskis, called the “nomenklatura of communist historiography”.510 It is paradoxical, but despite publicly declaring their unconditional rejection of the work done by pre-war historians, and at the time wanting to present the public with a new, sovietized depiction of Lithuania’s past as quickly as possible, representatives of the Party elite and the scientific nomenklatura at the time were forced to refer to their colleagues’ input they had so criticized and spurned. According to philosopher Bronislovas Genzelis, this was something even Juozas Žiugžda had to admit to:

On one occasion Žiugžda decided to be open. He proceeded to recall how the history of Lithuania was created. “The honourable Sniečkus and I locked ourselves in the office and sat down to think of what to do. This is not something you can write quickly after all. And then the first secretary said to me: go get Šapoka and write the opposite of everything!” Žiugžda said this in public.511

The creation of a new periodization (temporal) model, or more precisely, its forced adoption by the fledgling community of historians in Vilnius, did not progress smoothly without any arguments or opposition. The first harsh discussion was provoked by Juozas Jurginis’ article from 1950 titled “Lietu- vos TSR istorijos periodizacijos klausimu” [On the periodization in History of the Lithuanian SSR],512 which impacted on the later criticism of this scientist’s History of the Lithuanian SSR textbook. The conference that took place in Vilnius on April 1–3, 1952 and was dedicated to issues regarding the periodization of Lithuania’s history marked a new stage in challenging opinions and discussions, when the foundation for the most general scheme of the past was set that was later applied in all Soviet syntheses of Lithuania’s history. The object of discussion at the conference became the socio-economic formation model that had been mechanically fitted to Lithuania’s history, and comprised on five major parts described over 27 pages of expanded theses.513 An illustration of this model is in the table below: 160 Aurimas Švedas

Primitive communal society (8500 BCE –500 CE) Feudalism (9th c.–1861) Early feudalism (9th c.–mid-14th c.) Developed feudalism (mid-14th c.–mid-17th c.) Late feudalism (mid-17th c.–1861) Capitalism (1861–1917) Pre-monopolist capitalism (1861–1900) Imperialism (1900–1917) The struggle for Soviet rule (1917–1940) The triumph of socialism (1940–1951)

Once discussions commenced, the first attempt to fundamentally edit this very formal and ideologized model was by Konstantinas Jablonskis (whose speech has already been briefly discussed in pp. 85–86). Standing on the platform, he regretfully noted that the creators of this particular periodization model had completely ignored the historiographical work already done in “bourgeois times”, and added that he considered the division of the feudalism period into three stages as misleading. Basing such a bold idea on a reference to Joseph Stalin’s work “Marxism and issues in the science of languages”, Jablon- skis claimed that the period up until the mid-16th century in Lithuanian history was to be viewed as a battle for the total entrenchment of feudal relations. From this came the suggestion to divide this period into two stages – “the rise of feudalism” and “the decline of feudalism”, with the turning point in the mid- 16th century.514 If by making these claims Jablonskis merely balanced on the verge of “heresy”, then his attempt to describe the features of the second stage in the feudalism period in Lithuania obviously overstepped this boundary. Noting that in 18th-century Russia there was a complete enserfment of peasants, he also highlighted that “among the Lithuanian peasantry, no less than 45 percent were free peasants, so, with the end of feudalism drawing closer, they were not placed in serfdom”.515 Jablonskis enhanced the thesis that Rus- sian history schemes could not be applied to Lithuania (and that in terms of socio-economic relations, Lithuania was far more advanced than Russia) by mentioning “other countries”, in which a sign of the second stage of feudalism should not be the process of peasant enserfment, but the “estate’s adaptation to the economy and the feudal dues market”.516 Referring to the same divide, Jablonskis tried to correct the stage of “Lithuania’s feudal fragmentation (mid- 14th–mid-15th century)” identified within the period of “developed feudalism”. The conference atmosphere grew even more heated after the speech by another authority of the inter-war generation of historians, Ignas Jonynas, who doubted the periodization authors’ claims that societal bonds were already “Syntheses of History” 161 evident in the 8th–9th century in Lithuania, which later led to the state’s development. Early sources, according to Jonynas, did not indicate any distinct, early social stratification of Lithuanian society with large landowners forming the top layer. In Jonynas’ opinion, these kinds of processes started becoming more prevalent much later, that is why there was no basis for talking about the existence of feudalism in Lithuania prior to the 14th century. Jonynas also made it rather clear to the event’s participants that Lithuania’s accession to Russia could not be viewed as an exclusively positive development, as it had the effect of severely worsening the peasantry’s situation.517 These ideas resulted in an immediate reaction and a polemic discussion. One after another, historians took the floor to deny Jonynas’ ideas. Meanwhile Žiugžda, in trying to protect the Soviet “historiographical boundary markers” that were being pushed to the limit by the elderly professor, dramatically announced that these historian’s claims regarding the formation of feudalism had nothing in common with the views of a true Soviet scientist.518 Conceptually important yet uncomfortable questions and comments aimed at the periodization model’s authors were also formulated by the director of the Institute of Lithuanian Literature Kostas Korsakas. He noted that the periodization was overly concentrated on economic, or “base” factors, whilst “secondary phenomena, which would include the state, legal norms and culture, as a complex, was indeed insufficiently addressed…”519 Korsakas was not the only one who thought the development of economic processes was inadequate. Several other historians also could not hide their scepticism over the periodization authors’ desire to fit all of Lithuania’s history into a scheme of five socio-economic formations, which despite appearing ideologically correct had little to do with the historical reality. From the comments that arose from this discussion, Žiugžda primarily defended the periodization authors’ position. The director of the Institute of History combined his scientific arguments with indications to how one or another aspect of the past had been understood first of all in reference to schemes created and approved by Russian historians. This kind of “backbone” allowed Žiugžda to demonstrate his trust in their work: “We, the research fellows of the Lithuanian Institute of History, are of the opinion that the scheme in question is correct, and we are determined to defend it through scientific discussions”.520 Nevertheless, Žiugžda’s exterior poise hid a great number of unsolved problems that gave rise to new, harsh discussions on January 25–27, 1954 when the draft of Volume I of History of the Lithuanian SSR was being deliberated.521 The deliberations which lasted three days involved the participation of and speeches by representatives of the USSR Academy of Sciences 162 Aurimas Švedas Institutes of History and Ethnography, and staff from the Belarusian SSR Acad- emy of Sciences. A group of historians from Estonia and Latvia had also arrived in Vilnius to familiarize themselves with their colleagues’ work and to voice their assessment. Lithuania’s Soviet government also paid particular attention to this event: on January 25, 1954 at the conference, the First Secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Antanas Sniečkus said a word of welcome on behalf of the Party and the government. The Tiesa [The Truth] newspaper printed front-page reports on this scientific event for three days in a row (Jan- uary 26–28, 1954).522 A continuation of these discussions followed in the form of draft reviews sent to Vilnius by various scientific institutions in the USSR.523 What innovations appeared in the periodization model of Lithuania’s history following these discussions? In the introduction of History of the Lithua- nian SSR. From Earliest Times to 1861 (manuscript format) the authors proudly stated that “this course is the first attempt at a summary of the history of the Lithuanian SSR based on Marxist-Leninist methodology”.524 The unconditional submission to this methodology meant that socio-economic relations were once again accentuated in all sorts of ways. Compared to the chronological model of Lithuanian history presented at the conference in 1952 where the periodization of the formation of feudalism followed the scheme “early” – “developed” – “late”, in the textbook this scheme was replaced by stages denoting the “development of feudalism”, the “entrenchment of feudalism” and the “decline of feudalism”. Incidentally, in the draft of History of the Lithua- nian SSR, the concepts of “early” and “developed” feudalism were still used, though mostly in a chaotic manner and without explaining their meanings. In this case, the exception would be the “late” feudalism concept which the authors defined quite clearly.525 The temporal model applied in the draft is presented in the table below:

Primitive communal society (9000 BCE–800 CE) The period of the development of feudal relations (9th c.–early-14th c.) The period of the entrenchment of serfdom (1397–?) The period of the decline of feudalism (mid-17th c.–1861)

Note: the question mark that appeared in the draft denoted uncertainty of the beginning or the end of a certain chronological period. This system was used in other tables as well. Reading the text, one is distracted by information gaps and uncertainties that the authors came across when detailing one or another stage in history. These problems had to be admitted by Žiugžda himself during the introduction “Syntheses of History” 163 speech at the conference on January 25, 1954, who, emphasizing the production power and production relations development guidelines as described in the text, justified himself by saying that “due to a lack of direct evidence, very often when trying to solve separate socio-economic development problems, we had to base our work on data that indirectly supported one claim or another”.526 The deliberation of the draft version of History of the Lithuanian SSR that took place in January, 1954, plus the subsequent reviews, touched on a number of periodization issues. They can be divided into two groups – issues which revealed conceptual problems with the Soviet model of Lithuanian history, and those issues which corrected separate fragments of the periodization. Probably the most common reproach was that the periodization in question was not dynamic enough. A historian working for the Belarusian SSR Academy of Sciences, Valentina Chepko grasped the essence of the problem very accurately in her review, stating that the draft authors had memorialized economic processes in “frozen forms”. According to the reviewer, this flawed practice meant that the periodization’s creators usually limited themselves to declarative claims that were not substantiated by any specific historical material.527 In the attempts to specify separate chronological fragments, the discussion over the periodization principle for delineating primitive communal society stands out. The historians that initiated this discussion doubted the draft -au thors’ decision to distinguish patriarchal and matriarchal stages in the primitive communal society period (something that was done following the tradition already established in Soviet historiography, and substantiating their decision with the claim “that’s how it’s done”. Correcting certain details in the periodization, historians from Belarus tried to preempt their ideologically-careless Vilnius colleagues’ attempt to place the beginning of the “disintegration of the feudal serfdom economy and the formation of capitalist relations” in the last quarter of the 18th century.528 This suggested that capitalist relations started forming in Lithuania prior to its incorporation into Russia. And that, according to the vigilant and more experienced colleagues from Minsk, would have been impossible, as it would call into question the thesis concerning the positive significance of Lithuania’s incorporation into Russia in 1795. Issues regarding the periodization of the history of the Lithuanian SSR were again raised on May 16, 1956 at a meeting of the intelligentsia organized by the Institute of Party History (this meeting has also been analyzed in pp. 104–107 in this book), where the participants discussed the shortcomings of the History of the Lithuanian SSR textbook that was being prepared for printing. Juozas Bulavas and Eugenijus Meškauskas who spoke at the meeting mentioned that the authors had not directed sufficient attention to the concepts of growth of production 164 Aurimas Švedas power/capacity and progress, which is why the historical process was depicted as a regression: “The textbook appears to suggest that the working people were best off as part of a primitive communal society, and that with the development of feudalism and capitalism, the situation of the working people became worse a n d w o r s e”. 529 During a second deliberation of the textbook held on July 6 that same year, the temporal model was again the focus of the discussion. Those who spoke at this meeting highlighted that in creating the periodization of Lithua- nia’s history, the theses of Marxist-Leninist doctrine were applied in an overly formal manner, resulting in a caricatural depiction of the past. Unfortunately, these meetings initiated by the Central Committee of the LCP (B) did not give rise to any transformations in the existing official discourse, nor in any other summarizing texts on the history of Lithuania. The community of historians returned to discussing the conceptual problems of the periodization only after more than fifteen years when a Russian-language version of History of the Lithuanian SSR was being compiled. At a meeting of the research board of the Institute of History on April 20, 1971, there were two prevailing opinions from the authors of the future synthesis regarding periodization principles. Jurginis stressed that in the plan for the future publication there was a lack of a uniform periodization and added his view that “the history of the nation and the state should predominate”.530 Other participants of this meeting supported the opinion that in the chronological model there was no uniformity or clarity, yet they did underline the need to combine political criteria with economic criteria, as otherwise the work would bear resemblance to the depiction of history offered in the textbook edited by Šapoka (which So- viet-era historians were strictly banned from identifying with).531 The most important accents in this discussion were provided by the director of the Institute, Bronius Vaitkevičius, who recommended to his colleagues to draw their attention to “who this publication is aimed at – the Union-wide or foreign reader. The Union-wide reader is of one kind, while the foreigner is a completely different kind of reader”.532 The subtext of this claim was revealed once the Insti- tute’s director compared a similarly prepared history of Poland with books by Latvian and Estonian historians in Russian. By comparing the texts dedicated to two different categories of reader, Vaitkevičius made it rather clear that in the texts aimed at a Soviet Union audience in the Russian language, a domination of political history would be unjustifiable and would receive harsh criticism. That is why the question later posed by Vaitkevičius “Will we be able to consistently apply the political-state periodization criteria in compiling the history of the Lithuanian SSR?”533 came across as rather rhetorical; in addition, he also outlined the basis of the chronological model for the future synthesis. 26 A discussion on the Russian language version of the history of the LSSR on April 21, 1977. A representative of Vilnius University’s Depart- ment of the History of the LSSR, Jonas Dobrovolskas, is speaking. Cour- tesy of the Lithuanian Institute of History.

This kind of conclusion to the discussions clearly shows that the periodization itself in Soviet syntheses of Lithuania’s history was strongly influenced by the general situation in Soviet history as a science that existed at the time, and that the potential of the communities of researchers of the past that were gathered in the Union’s republics to change it in any significant way were minimal at best.

Features of the Periodization Model. Despite the unambiguous rejection of the pre-war model of Lithuanian history during the Soviet period, even its harshest critics with Žiugžda out in front were unable to smoothly implement the Par- ty’s order and completely bury the historical symbols of Lithuanian statehood under the course of the changing socio-economic formations. Thus, despite highlighting socio-economic processes in the periodization theses created in 1952 and in the draft of Volume I of History of the Lithuanian SSR printed 166 Aurimas Švedas in 1953, two principles of material organization can be distinguished in these synthesizing texts on LSSR history – the socio-economic formation principle and the political principle. In this way two independent, inter-competing temporal models functioned in parallel, creating a dissonance and disrupting the uniformity of the content and text. The four-volume History of the Lithuanian SSR.534 During the compilation of this four-volume publication, over 1,700 pages in length (Volume I – 1957; Volume II – 1963; Volume III – 1965; Volume IV – 1975) there were numerous meetings, discussions and critical speeches which conceptually corrected certain accents in the depiction of Lithuania’s history and sustained an intellectual tension amid the authors’ collective preparing the synthesis. Nevertheless, the components of the spread of economic and political processes were joined mechanically. Even historians had to admit this when work on the new synthesis of Lithuanian history in the Russian language commenced. On April 20, 1971 during a meeting of the Institute of History’s research board, Merkys stated:

When putting together publications such as history courses, the most important thing is the question of periodization. We can now see that in all three volumes of History of the Lithuanian SSR there was not a single binding principle. The main chapters – on feudalism, capitalism and socialism – were divided into sub-chapters based on political history.535

This astute comment from the historian should be supplemented with one other critical conclusion arising from a glance through the four-volume history of Lithuania: the most general periodization model that appeared in the contents page often had little in common with the periodization presented in texts on a particular era or the processes within.

Temporal models in the four-volume History of the Lithuanian SSR Socio-economic model Political model Primitive communal society Formation of the state (ca 1240) (9,000 BCE – 800 CE) Appearance of feudal relations (?) Feudal fragmentation (1316–1440) The Lithuanian state (late 13th c.– first half of the 14th c.) Dominance of serfdom (1434/1447–?) Magnate rule (1447/1492?–1564/1566) Dominance of a corvee labour Domination of the nobility economy (second half of the 16th c.–?) (1564/1566–?) “Syntheses of History” 167 Economic decline (second half of Lithuania’s political decline (1569–1795) the 17th c.) Disintegration of feudalism and Lithuania as part of Russia (1795–1914) the formation of capitalist relations (1795–1861) The period of rising capitalism (1861–?) Imperialism (late 19th c.–early 20th c.) Creation of the LSSR (1918–1919) Bourgeois dictatorship (1919–1926) Bourgeois dictatorship (1919–1926) Lithuania under rule of the fascist Fascist dictatorship (1927–1938) dictatorship (1927–1938) Beginning of the creation of Triumph of the socialist revolution socialism (1940–1941) (1940–1941) Creation of the foundations of Reinstatement of the LSSR and its socialism (1945–1951) development (1940; 1945– ) Completion of the creation of socialism (1952–1958)

The temporal models presented here feature obvious ideological positions which the authors had to decide on when composing their concept of watershed events in Lithuania’s history. It is paradoxical, but in the creation of the Marxist-Leninist version of Lithuania’s history, the depiction of changes in socio-economic formations suffered markedly. The synthesis authors’ decision to use categories such as “semi-feudalism” is conceptually ambiguous. In creating the depiction of the development of the formation of feudalism, the terms “early” and “developed” are hardly used at all, or their meaning is left unexplained. Conversely, the dynamism of this development is revealed using particularly unspecific, comparative categories such as “the rise of feudalism”, “the dominance of serfdom”, “the dominance of a corvee labour economy”, and the period of “economic decline”. In trying to place the period of “bourgeois/ fascist dictatorship” in the capitalist formation, the authors of the synthesis found themselves facing impossible contradictions, which should come as no surprise. This kind of accentuation, much like the distinction of stages such as “the triumph of the socialist revolution”, “the creation of the foundations of socialism” and “the completion of the creation of socialism”, had nothing in common with the historical reality – these falsifications can be assessed only as clumsy and thus caricatural depictions of past and present events. These comments suggest that the authors of the multi-volume synthesis found it difficult to squeeze the historical reality into the boundary markers delineated in 1952. 168 Aurimas Švedas The short course on the history of the Lithuanian SSR.536 Work on compiling the academic history of Lithuania was consistently late. Back in 1945, among the most important tasks in the Institute of History’s scientific research work plan was “the core of the Institute must prepare the textbook on the history of Lithuania”.537 However, the institution headed firstly by Povilas Pakarklis and later by Žiugžda was forced to state in its reports for many years in a row that this task had still not been completed. In trying to define the reasons why the synthesis was so persistently late, Vaclovas Mil- ius stressed the human factor:

There was an incredible amount of planning, but we were also short on manpower. Who were working at the Institute at the time? Merkys, Jučas – strong historians. Meanwhile, the majority of the collective was made up of all sorts of busy-body ladies and Communist Youth activists selected by Žiugžda. Trying to achieve something with this kind of collective is indeed difficult. Incidentally, talking about the lateness of the syntheses, it should be said that in those times, the Party’s attitudes towards particular issues in recent history were always changing. That is why Žiugžda had exclaimed happily on more than one occasion: “It’s just as well that we haven’t done that yet, as under the new circumstances, we’d be beaten up”.538

The comment by Milius on Žiugžda’s caution is enhanced by the opinion expressed in archaeologist Pranas Kulikauskas’ recollections that the Institute’s director consciously sabotaged the preparation of the synthesis.539 Ivinskis has also made qualified insights regarding the lateness of the first Soviet syntheses, thereby revealing the complex palette of reasons for this phenomenon, and who also mentioned the conscious decision by Žiugžda to “not rush things”.540 Seeing these constant hurdles in the completion of tasks, at the 8th Con- gress of the LCP (B) Sniečkus posed the Institute with the objective of completing the short course on history for secondary schools before the end of 1954. This attempt by Sniečkus to move things along was associated with the discussions on the draft of Volume I of the history of Lithuania that took place on January 25–27, 1954.541 Despite the fact that a Procrustean bed for the Lith- uanian nation’s past had already been made, the “short course” saw the light of day one year after the release of Volume I of History of the Lithuanian SSR – in 1958. The periodization models in both works are more or less consistent and there are only a few instances where attempts have been made to correct some formulations or categories. “Syntheses of History” 169 First of all, in the short course there is no longer any mention of the “semi-feudalism” concept that is constantly used in the first volume of the synthesis that appeared in 1957. It has been replaced with the “class-based” and “feudal society” categories. In addition, the authors of the short course abandoned the divide between serfdom and the dominance of corvee labour, concentrating on “the dominance of serfdom”. Having made these periodization corrections, the short course authors defined the essential accents of the chronological model that were later repeated in Volumes II–IV of History of the Lithuanian SSR. Incidentally, the rather unclearly structured depiction of the last decade of Soviet Lithuania’s history in the short course had to be corrected by the authors of Volume IV, where instead of “reinstatement of the people’s economy and further development in the post-war period” the stages “creation of the foundations of socialism in Lithua- nia” and “completion of the creation of socialism in Lithuania” were introduced. History of the Lithuanian SSR in Russian.542 The preparation of the Rus- sian-language version of the history of the LSSR (1978) proved to be a new challenge for the historians’ community. The text which was aimed at the Un- ion-wide readership had to not only represent the condition of the science of Lithuanian history and its achievements, but to simply “pay its dues” to Marx- ist-Leninist theory and the postulates of Soviet ideology. During the course of putting together the Russian version of the history of the Lithuanian SSR, it was often said that Lithuanians were the last ones in the Soviet Union to have released a synthesis in Russian. Jurginis was the first to mention this aloud, when he announced that the single-volume text had been finished at a meeting of the Institute’s research board on December 28, 1967.543 Unfortunately his optimism was premature as the new synthesis did not appear in bookstores in 1968. Separate chapters were improved, re-written, deliberated and corrected for a number of years thereafter. That is why it is no wonder that on April 9, 1974, when part of the manuscript of this history text was being deliberated at the Institute of Party History (covering 1861 to 1940), the head of this institution, Šarmaitis, repeated the reproach heard seven years ago about the unsatisfactory lateness of Lithuanians in this field of work.544 The suspicion that the “Soviet reader” (in fact, Moscow) was eagerly awaiting this text was one of the main reasons why it was so late in being published. This factor meant that every single sentence had to be up to scratch. In other words, historians at the time were inclined to treat the history of the Lithua- nian SSR in Russian as a qualitatively new step in the representation of research of the past. This view could be heard both in semi-official and backroom -dis cussions. The feeling that this book opened up a sliver of possibility to more accurately and correctly identify moments in Lithuanian history encouraged 170 Aurimas Švedas the text’s authors to raise new issues or search for new innovative ideas, all the while balancing on the cusp of historical truth and political conjuncture. The writing of the history of the LSSR in Russian required numerous organizational, editorial and discussion meetings in which almost the entire community of historians of the day participated in one way or another. The heaviest work load fell on the shoulders of the Institute of History’s science scholars. Their colleagues from other institutions (the Institute of Party History, Vilnius University’s Faculty of History, the Pedagogical Institute’s Faculty of History) contributed to the preparation work by discussing and reviewing texts. In this way “politically dangerous” issues arose and had to be considered, including the positive/negative role of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania as a historical subject, the assessment of the addition of Russian lands to the territory of the Lithu- anian state, and the significance of the Third Partition of the Polish–Lithua- nian Commonwealth.545 This unavoidably resulted in an ideological response. During a meeting of the Institute of History’s research board on June 26, 1975 it was stated that the chapters compiled by Antanas Tyla contained “serious shortcomings” (see pp. 152–153). At a meeting of the directorate on August 4 of the same year, it was decided to recall Jurginis back from his annual break so that he could correct the factual and “fundamental” errors in his text.546 New flames were stoked in 1980 when a particularly critical collective review of the already published book was printed in The Communist magazine.547 One of the co-authors of the book emotionally called the review “tendentious” and “bearing no semblance to ethics in any way”.548 Were all these discussions relating to the synthesis reflected in the periodization? The Russian history of the Lithuanian SSR does not feature any new formulations of the periodization issue. The mechanical comparison of economic and political processes that was so evident in the four-volume synthesis was in this book hidden under the cover of seven major chapter titles which expressed the attitude that the most important accent in the temporal model had to be the change in socio-economic formations.

Primitive communal society (1100 BCE – 200 CE) Lithuania in the period of feudalism (12th c.–1861) Lithuania in the period of capitalism (1861–1917) The October Revolution and the fight for Soviet rule (March, 1917–1919) Lithuania in the bourgeois dictatorship years (1919–1940) The LSSR in the building of socialism stage (1940–1958) The LSSR in the developed socialism stage (from 1958) “Syntheses of History” 171 The placing of these accents at a contents level allowed the text’s authors to make liberal interpretations of various turning points in economic and political history. Two turning points were identified in the primitive communal society stage, ten in the feudalism formation, two in the period of capitalism, and two in the pre-war Lithuania period. Some were highlighted by the use of bold or nondescript subtitles, others were merely explained in the text, either way, their layout does not constitute a structurally uniform temporal model. Volume I of the new history of the Lithuanian SSR.549 In 1980 word spread in the historians’ community about a new historical synthesis project and pressing work that had to be done in relation to this new text. During a meeting of the Institute of History’s research board on December 26, 1980, the director Vaitkevičius noted: “One of the most important tasks ahead is the preparation of the synthesis of Lithuanian history in Lithuanian”.550 This was not initiated “from below”. The impulse for a new academic history of Lithuania came from the resolutions of the 26th Congress of the CPSU and the 28th Congress of the LCP (B).551 The Institute’s primary plans to put together a two-volume summary were corrected somewhat by the radically different situation resulting from perestroika, which forced historians to edit texts depicting socialism and to search for new ways of presenting difficult issues in Lithuanian history. At a meeting of the Institute of History’s research board on June 25, 1984 which was called to discuss the procedure of preparing Volume II of History of the Lithuanian SSR for publication, it was stated that the text was already written and edited. Even though at this meeting it was decided to pass a positive assessment of the work completed, Vaitkevičius added that there were still some problems: “Texts from the Soviet period have been prepared poorly – this is a constant occurrence, a similar thing happened editing the single-volume Russian language text. This situation demands serious discussion, we need to make some fundamental changes”.552 As was just mentioned, the prolonged work on Vol- ume II was further complicated by the onset of perestroika. At a meeting of the History of Socialist Society sector on December 18, 1987 it was stated that Volume II had been recalled from the publisher so that “in the course of the next year it would be possible to calmly rethink and make the necessary corrections so that the book would meet the public’s new requirements”.553 One year was not enough, however. On March 23, 1989 Vaitkevičius’ speech at the Institute’s research board meeting indicated that researchers of the Soviet period could not get a grasp of the period’s challenges: “With the extreme rever- sals in certain concepts and criteria in view of separate periods of Lithuania’s history, new research must be conducted, and also, new material must be used 172 Aurimas Švedas of which a great deal has been released in recent times, or has been revealed during discussions”.554 The rapid change of “criteria” and “concepts” put an end to the rewriting and publishing of Volume II. Volume I of History of the Lithuanian SSR that reached bookstores in 1985 revealed that the situation of history and scientists working in this field was gradually changing as the ideological and historiographical restrictions loos- ened. Reviewers of this text felt these processes. In a review of Volume I that was sent to the editor of the Mokslas publishing house, Juozas Vaitkus, in 1983, one of the most ideologized Lithuanian historians of the late Soviet period, Robertas Žiugžda, formulated a number of disconcerting comments:

[In the manuscript] there are still some serious gaps. In some places the text diverges from the historical truth, the need to abide by class- based positions has been overlooked, and for some reason the accepted practice in Soviet historiography of assessing events, processes and facts has been rejected. In some places one is even led to believe that certain expressions and formulations from authors who maintain altogether foreign positions to ourselves have been uncritically included into this text.555

The fact that the synthesis being prepared for publication contained conscious “ideological errors” was noted by another “vigilant” reviewer – Stanis- lovas Lazutka. He was especially sceptical of the depiction of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania that was being propagated in the book: “A majority of the formulae and conclusions are in direct opposition to Russian Soviet historiography, and carry an old, musty odour, especially regarding the foreign policy of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, and its expansion into Russian lands. The “formulae” here have obviously been “subdued”…556 These gradations did not go by unnoticed by the readers at the time either. During a discussion between cultural workers that took place during the perestroika period, one of its participants, Aleksandras Krasnovas, recalled how the entire print of Volume I was, as he emphatically put it, “swept off the shelves as if by a hurricane”.557 To what degree did the reduced pressure on the official discourse and historians’ efforts to circumvent the fading ideological-historiographical boundary markers play a part in the new periodization of the history of the Lithuanian SSR? Listing the unavoidable “ideological safety switches” in the book’s introduction, it was noted that “this work’s methodological basis rests on Marx- ist-Leninist teaching of socio-economic formations”,558 however, the formation model in this academic version of Lithuania’s history left room for statehood “Syntheses of History” 173 development accents – they coexist both at a contents and text level as an independent temporal model.

The political temporal model of History of the Lithuanian SSR, 1985 Formation of the Lithuanian state (1330s) The alliance of the GDL with Poland (from 1385) The GDL’s union with Poland (from 1569) The political decline of the GDL (second half of the 17th c.– first half of the 18th c.) Lithuania as a part of the Russian Empire (1795–1861) The revolution of 1905–1907 in Lithuania Lithuania between two revolutions (1905–1917)

The socio-economic temporal model of History of the Lithuanian SSR, 1985 Primitive communal society (10,000 BCE – 200 CE) Disintegration of primitive communal societies (2nd–10th c.) Emergence of feudal relations (“early feudalism”) (10th–12th c.) Strengthening of feudal relations (from 1387) The rise of serfdom (from 1434/1447) Feudal reaction (last quarter of the 16th c.–mid-17th c.) The decline of a serfdom economy (second half of the 17th c.– first half of the 18th c.) Beginning of the disintegration of serfdom (second half of the 18th c.) Socio-economic development (1795–1861) The rise of capitalism (1861–late 19th c.) Imperialism (late 19th c.–early 20th c.)

Compared to Volume I of History of the Lithuanian SSR that was edited by Žiugžda and “the short course” (1958), in the 1985 synthesis, the genesis and development of feudalism has been explained in a much clearer way, using concepts such as “early feudalism” and “developed feudalism” in both the contents and the text, and giving a precise description of what they entailed. However, in this LSSR history we can see several obscure decisions made by the authors in creating the periodization model. For example, the “spread of serfdom” caesura made at the contents level loses its independent meaning and periodizational role in the text proper. In addition, the chronological divide included in the contents, titled “socio-economic development (1795–1861)”, appears too formal. An analysis of the features of the political temporal model leads to the conclusion that on a text level, the authors introduced the new 174 Aurimas Švedas concepts “the lords’ oligarchic rule” and “the nobles’ democracy” which gave a much more accurate expression of separate periods in Lithuania’s history than did the categories “magnate rule” and “nobles’ dictatorship” that appeared in Žiugžda’s three-volume book. Depictions of Lithuania’s history in Soviet encyclopaedias. Summarizing depictions of Lithuania’s history were created and presented not only in academic history texts or secondary school textbooks, they also appeared in encyclopaedia articles on the Lithuanian nation’s past and present.559 In Volume III of The Minor Lithuanian Soviet Encyclopaedia from 1968 there was a 22 page- long text presenting the most important accents in Lithuania’s history from early times to the Soviet era. Here, both at a text and argumentative level, the model depicting changes in socio-economic formation predominated. Polit- ical events were usually just used to specify the general scheme and did not constitute an independent sub-plot themselves.

The socio-economic temporal model of Lithuanian history in the Minor Lithuanian Soviet Encyclopaedia article560 Primitive communal society (9000 BCE – 900 CE) Emergence of feudal relations and the formation of the state (9th–15th c.) Dominance and development of serfdom (15th–first half of the 18th c.) Disintegration of serfdom and the dominance of capitalist relations Period of the rise of capitalism (from 1861) The proletariat revolution, creation of the Soviet government (1917–1919) Bourgeois rule (1919–1940) Creation of socialism (1945–1958) First stage of the creation of communism (from 1959)

From an analogous text in Volume II of The Soviet Lithuanian Encyclo- paedia we can also see Soviet-era historians’ efforts to apply the socio-economic formation model as well as to correct and entrench its newer aspects that started to gain prevalence in the synthesis from 1985 (e.g., the distinction given to “early feudalism” in the contents section, and the concepts of “developed” and “established” feudalism in the text proper).

The socio-economic temporal model of Lithuanian history in the Soviet Lithuanian Encyclopaedia article561 Primitive communal society (10,000 BCE –1200 CE) Early feudalism (13th–late 14th c.) Developed feudalism (late 14th–late 16th c.) “Syntheses of History” 175 First stage of late feudalism (early 17th–mid-18th c.) Second stage of late feudalism (last third of the 18th c.–1861) Imperialism (1900–1917) The October Revolution and the fight for Soviet rule (1917–1919) Bourgeois rule (1919–1940) Creation of the foundations of socialism (1945–1951) Establishment of socialism (1952–1959/60) Further development of socialism (1960s onwards)

In the Soviet encyclopaedia articles which gave an overview of the development of Lithuanian history, the existing temporal models at first glance appear to be less contradictive and not as strictly subordinated to the course of socio-economic formation. Yet what helped create this impression was the fact that the texts had to be very concise, not to mention the encyclopaedia genre itself. It was easier to veil the historical reality under historiographical clichés when the number of pages was limited. Secondary school textbooks on the history of the Lithuanian SSR. Jurginis’ periodization model that featured in the textbook on the history of the Lith- uanian SSR published in 1957, as well as this historian’s various assessments of aspects of the past, caused a storm of criticism, resulting in the complete removal from circulation of this particular teaching aid (see pp. 137–140; 185– 186). This latter text by the author who had been accused of deviating into the realm of “bourgeois nationalism” and of making other methodological-ideological errors had to be quickly replaced with new teaching material, which is why in 1962, a collective of four authors compiled a textbook for Forms 7 and 8.562 The “sinner” Jurginis had been entrusted with writing Chapters I and II in this text which focused on the primitive communal society and feudalism periods. In this textbook, the dynamics of Lithuanian history was expressed according to the socio-economic formation scheme: “primitive society”, “feudalism”, “capitalism”, “October Revolution and the fight for Soviet rule”, “socialism”. This kind of periodization had no hope of being accurate: the authors did not mention when primitive communal society finally disintegrated and the beginnings of feudalism started being apparent, nor is the depiction of the relations between and change from this socio-economic structure into capitalism presented clearly. There is a somewhat stricter divide between the capitalist and socialist formations, however, when describing the development of socialism, the authors reverted to using streamlined, and as a result, non-descript, categories. The schematic nature of the chronological model and its inaccuracies 176 Aurimas Švedas was most likely determined by the fact that the textbook was compiled hurriedly, with texts by the four different authors mechanically slotted into place along the timeline. On the other hand, this might have been done purposefully, arguing that school students were only required to know the most general aspects of Lithuania’s history, whereas a finer intuition of this field would come from specialized studies or academic syntheses. This path of expressing Lithuania’s history according to the socio-economic formation scheme was followed by the authors of the new, 1969-release of the textbook as well.563 This later teaching aid discussed three periods – primitive communal society, feudalism and capitalism. Despite a majority of the highlights being the same as in the 1962 edition of the textbook (a new highlight could be the introduction of the “Turning-point of imperialism”, which distinguished the processes that began at the turn of the 19th–20th centuries from the course of the by-then ailing capitalism), Jurginis and Merkys ensured that these periods were presented in a clearer way and were better contextualized. Precedence has been given to the socio-economic formation scheme in the temporal model that featured in the 1978 textbook as well.564 On the other hand, it should be noted that the authors of the latter textbook, Mečis- lovas Jučas and Vytautas Merkys, did not make socio-economic processes the unconditionally prevailing subject. Here the scheme of socio-economic changes is often overwhelmed by the attention given to the foreign and domestic policies during one or another period. In this textbook the depiction of the primitive communal society period has been given more detail (the beginning of its formation (10,000–9000 BCE) and the period of its disintegration (500–600 CE) has been denoted), and there are new accents within the feudalism period, such as the period of the dominance of serfdom. An important feature of this particular textbook’s periodization model should be the fact that the processes of economic changes in the GDL have been clearly shown within a West European context. Thus, the chronological model that reached secondary schools in 1978, compared to earlier teaching material, was more closely related to the periodization used in academic histories of the LSSR. With this book there are no intentions to delve into deeper analyses of 20th-century Lithuanian history textbooks,565 as their authors were completely bound by schemes that had very little in common with reality; the section titles that follow are a case in point: “The October Revolution and the creation of Soviet rule in Lithuania”; “Lithuania under a bourgeois dictatorship”; “Reinstatement of the Soviet government (1940–1941)”; “Lithuania in the Great Patriotic War”; “The building of socialism (1944–1958); “The LSSR “Syntheses of History” 177 during the building of communism”/ “The LSSR during the period of developed socialism”.566 What generalizations can be made about the characteristics of periodization models used in Soviet-era syntheses of Lithuania’s history, encyclopaedia texts and school textbooks? Even though the application of socio-economic formation change models was a very important tool in the manipulation of depictions of Lithuanian history, the authors of these summaries had difficulty “positioning” specific events and processes from Lithuania’s past into a unified scheme. In the histories of the LSSR of the time, both at the content and text levels, the principles of organizing socio-economic and political material appear to co-exist with one another. An analysis of periodization models is complicated by the fact that at a contents level, the way the material has been structured is not always in tune with the significant accents formulated when writing about a specific topic, leaving it unclear and contradictory. In Soviet-era syntheses, historians did not manage to present a fluent temporal model that corresponded with the historical-reality, although the authors did try to give correct depictions of important processes and phenomena in the sections they were responsible for writing.

The Spatial Model in Soviet-Era Syntheses of Lithuanian History During the Soviet period, authors of the summaries on Lithuania’s history had little more freedom in defining the what, where and how of Lithuanian history on its course between the East and the West. The draft of Volume I of History of the Lithuanian SSR that was prepared in 1953 marked the most important elements of a spatial depiction of history that were often corrected in later syntheses, professionally utilizing the potentials arising from conjunctures, or, having received a blunt order “from above”, by falsifying specific elements of the spatial model. In the above mentioned book, it is the concepts and depictions created by Moscow-based historians, approved in cabinets of the Central Committee of the LCP (B), and then consistently promoted by Žiugžda that predominate. Namely, the unconditional contrasting of East and West, the depiction of Lithuania as a dependent, often passive object tailing behind historical processes, and pro-Russian assessments of the most important events involving the Lithuanian nation. The East-West divide corresponds with the good-evil distinction. Russia represents the positive Eastern Slavic foundation, which 178 Aurimas Švedas is said to have had a major influence in the formation of socio-economic relations in Lithuanian society, bringing on the appearance of state-related aspects and significantly impacting on their evolution, not to mention Russia’s role as a constant ally in resisting aggression from the East and the West (the Russian factor is stressed in stopping the Mongol-Tartar attacks, and the concept of a united Lithuanian-Russian battle against the German aggressors was also formed). The Russian factor has been given overdue prominence by the authors of the first history of the LSSR in terms of the development of Lithuanian culture as well. A typical quote would be: “The Russian nation’s cultural influences helped the Lithuanian nation overcome those obstacles to cultural growth that were conceived by the aggression of West European feudal lords and the pope, helping it foster new forms of cultural and general state life, and to defend itself from the aims of the Polish lords and the Catholic Church to den- igrate the Lithuanian nation by destroying its language and culture”.567 The close and well-meaning relations between these nations (which were allegedly initiated by the Russians) were mentioned by authors even once the Lithua- nians’ had embarked on their regular campaigns of plunder into the East (!), whilst “Russian units” are mentioned in all the major Lithuanian triumphs against the German orders.568 The Western civilization space is continually presented as the source of various hardships that the Lithuanian nation had to endure. Even the very first encounters of Lithuanian clans with representatives of the West Euro- pean civilization have been presented as the disconcerting activities of spies and agents of a hostile socio-economic structure, prophetizing the impending aggression campaign from the West (The arrival of Aldalbert of Prague and the monk Bruno in the Prussian, west Lithuanian and Yotvingian lands has been portrayed as part of a cunning plan devised by Western Europe’s feudal class, which the inhabitants of these lands decisively resisted, murdering the mentioned spies).569 According to the authors of the first Soviet history textbook, the contact made between Lithuanian clans and representatives of Western Europe automatically foresaw negative social upheavals and the threat of loss of statehood. The draft’s authors sometimes had to state that processes underway not just in Russia but in Western Europe had a direct impact on Lithuania. Inciden- tally, in the text this impact is presented as being exclusively negative. The first turning point that unveiled Lithuania’s direct dependence on the West was the 16th century, when Europe’s demand for agricultural products and various raw materials pushed the development of feudalism towards the entrenchment “Syntheses of History” 179 of a corvee labour economy.570 Meanwhile reduced grain demand in foreign markets and the drop in grain prices in the late 17th century created a second turning point, which pre-empted the “decline of feudalism”.571 The synthesis authors charged with creating this idyllic picture of Rus- sian-Lithuanian relations stumbled somewhat over the gradually crystallizing political program of the rulers of the GDL to push into the East. This obvious contradiction of the myth of eternal friendship between Russians and Lithua- nians was “resolved” by suggesting the thesis that this decision by Lithuanian feudal lords was in fact a fateful error that went against the nation’s interests and resulted in tragic outcomes. It was alleged that this military offensive brought on the division of the Lithuanian state and preconditioned the interference of not only the Teutonic Order into the state’s domestic affairs, but also of Poland. Closer association with Poland led to the unions of Krewo and Lublin which were completely against the interests of the GDL, as already in 1385 “the treaty basically liquidated any independence Lithuania had”.572 Lith- uanian rulers’ foreign policies aimed at integration with the West and countering an opposition to Russia were identified in the text as “betraying the nation”, “narrow class inspired”, “anti-national” and “selfish”.573 This policy, thanks to which the feudal elite of the GDL “implanted a cosmopolitan ideology, promoting the de-nationalization of Lithuanians and weakening their c u l t u r e”, 574 was halted by the Third Partition of the Polish-Lithuanian Com- monwealth in 1795. According to the authors, “when Lithuania was ceded to Russia, this saved the Lithuanian nation from further de-nationalization, creating the conditions for its continued development and the consolidation of the Lithuanian identity to gradually become a nation”. By recording the peak of feudalism and the separation of the people’s interests, the first Soviet synthesis could exploit the concept of Lithuania’s eastward drift and argument it as an expression of the nation’s/the people’s interests.575 This claim should be viewed as a fundamental component of the crude spatial model expressing the all-mighty Russian nation’s chauvinistic interests. The clearly ideological aims of the book’s authors are also disclosed by their attempts at assessing the Lithuanians’-Russians’ fights for geopolitically significant territories from a pro-Moscow perspective (this principle is behind the several centuries-long Russian goal of establishing its zone on the shores of the Baltic Sea).576 In order to substantiate provisions such as these, in this synthesis the idea being consistently promoted was of “Lithuania as a non-autonomous, inferior historical actor” in economic processes taking place on the periphery of Western Europe.577 In this respect there are only a few unquestionable accents 180 Aurimas Švedas of the innate value of the GDL: “The historical significance of the Lithuanian feudal, and relatively united state in this sense, is that it effectively contributed to resisting the Teutonic Order’s expansion into the East and helped create the conditions for the eventual destruction of this papal-sanctioned tool of plunder”.578 The second important role played by Lithuania in a Europe-wide context that the text’s authors agreed to highlight was from the late 18th century: “The uprising of 1794 in Poland and Lithuania coincided with the French revolutionary wars in Europe and thus had an indirect influence on the course of those wars. From the spring of 1794, Poland withdrew Prussian forces from those wars and Prussia factually ceased fighting against revolutionary France. At the same time, Eastern Poland withdrew part of the significant Austrian military forces. Lithuania and the remainder of Poland interrupted Tsarist Russia from preparing an intervention against France”.579 Obviously, this historical plot is not equal in its significance to the first variant due to its treatment as an outcome of coincidental circumstances. In the draft of Volume I of History of the Lithuanian SSR, the most important features of the spatial model were defined; this ended up staying the same in the short course and the four-volume synthesis. As has already been mentioned, the foundation of this model was the all-mighty Russian chauvinist postulates which stressed:

1. the importance of the Russian factor in all stages of Lithuanian history; 2. the strengthening of the Polish and also the Western component in Lith- uania’s history as an outcome of the feudal elite’s actions against the nation’s interests; 3. the constant opposition of the Lithuanian people to firstly the feudal, and later the bourgeois elite’s geopolitical goals to adopt Western civilization and its orientation to the East (this division between society’s “upper” and “lower” levels was highlighted in all stages of Lithuania’s history); 4. the active influence of Western Europe on the evolution of the feudal socio-economic structure in Lithuania and the genesis and spread of capitalism (from the mid-16th century, Lithuania was depicted as a passive actor whose socio-economic structure was fundamentally determined by West European markets); 5. the selfish manipulations of the European elite in the formation of foreign policies of the GDL and the inter-war Lithuanian state; 6. the pro-Russian approach to the GDL and Russian confrontation over geopolitically important areas. “Syntheses of History” 181 In subsequent versions of LSSR history prepared during different periods there were always new nuances, yet they could only be regarded as “cosmetic” corrections of the spatial model. The collective of authors charged with preparing a Russian-language version of History of the Lithuanian SSR tried to add certainty to some of the details of the spatial model created in the first Soviet Lithuanian history syntheses. The first such correction of the all-mighty Russian chauvinist scheme would be the nuances that appeared assessing the Lithuanian rulers’ aggressive policies regarding Russian lands. This, among other things, is presented as a particularly significant factor in the establishment of the grand duke’s rule and in state-strengthening processes.580 Incidentally, the value of this “manoeuvre” was minimalized somewhat by the ideological rules as when analyzing the course of the events of the 14th century, when Moscow began to see itself in the role of a unifier of Russian lands, the authors of this Russian synthesis were forced to revert back to the historiographical stereotypes formulated by Žiugžda: “The acts of plunder intended by Lithuanian feudal lords resulted in complete failure in the North-East. They merely weakened the Lithuanian nation’s capability to resist the German aggression, and at the same time allowed the Order to proceed with its expansion into Lithuania”.581 The second (and somewhat more successful) attempt at checking how solid the existing spatial model actually was, was the new search for the place and role of the GDL in the East–West civilization space: “The Grand Duchy of Lithuania had been established in a space offering potentials for economic and cultural exchange with other European countries”.582 This accent at least partly “softened” the claims repeated in History of the Lithuanian SSR released in 1978 about the universally positive role played by Russia, and thus allowed the authors to spread the range of Western influence beyond merely socio-economic processes. The idea of Lithuania as a bridge between the East and the West was raised by the authors of the Russian-language synthesis and discussed due to the distinctive nature of this historical subject. The point of reference for this reflexion was the story of the last pagan European state.583 Meanwhile the dynamics of “economic and cultural exchange”, according to the authors, was reflected in the establishment of a European-styled school of higher education in Lithuania, the only institution of its kind found this far to the east,584 the creation of unique versions of the Baroque and Classicist styles,585 as well as the codification of legal norms that applied exclusively to East European conditions (in this the authors refer to the feudal class’ exemp- tion from taxes, and complete judicial and administrative immunity as stipu- lated in the Third Statute of Lithuania).586 These achievements are presented 182 Aurimas Švedas to readers of the synthesis as the unquestionable result of a creative reception of European values. On the other hand, the authors also made it quite clear that a space existed in Lithuania which could absorb Eastern cultural values as well, and created favourable conditions for their adoption; for example, the inception of grammar rules for the Slavic language for its use in church rituals, as conceived by Meletius Smotricki.587 How should we view these innovative accents? Unable to question the established boundaries of the official discourse regarding Lithuanian history on the geopolitical level, which obviously served the all-mighty Russian ideology, the authors of this synthesis concentrated on a new – socio-cultural – level, and thus in the spatial model being constructed the European civilization element started to gain prominence. The authors of the work released in 1985 picked up where the last authors left off, in terms of searching for more specific claims and assessments about Lithuania’s place in the East–West civilizational space. The most important argument over the GDL’s place and value was formulated in the introduction: “The formation, development and downfall of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania is discussed in rather great detail, revealing the progressive role of the GDL in the East European nations’ fight against the aggression of the Mongol-Tar- tars and the German feudal lords”.588 The last synthesis to have been compiled by the Institute of History collective during the Soviet period also highlights the exclusive place of the GDL between the East and the West. As in the Rus- sian-language LSSR history text, here too the first sign of Lithuania’s exclu- sivity is associated with paganism.589 Showing the GDL as a space in which unique socio-cultural phenomena appeared, the authors of the text repeated the already mentioned arguments while also offering new insights. In this way, alongside mention of the late Baroque, or Vilnius style, which is identified as “an independent achievement of Lithuanian culture in European expression”,590 and the significance given to the Third Statute of Lithuania, we come across an insight into the founding of the Vilnius Academy Theatre at that same time, which was considered “the most important and influential theatre of its kind in Eastern Europe”.591 In creating a depiction of the Age of Enlightenment in Lithuania, special mention was made of the Educational Commission as “the first secular, state education institution, subordinate to the king, in Europe”.592 All of this allows us to confirm that the work’s authors did attempt to subtly correct the established spatial model existing in the official discourse, and to distinguish the positive results of the Lithuanian state’s and society’s interaction with West European culture. However, during the Soviet period they were nevertheless unable to shift or evade any of the political history ideological “Syntheses of History” 183 boundary markers which fundamentally manipulated the past of the Lithua- nian nation, as they, as was mentioned, served the all-mighty Russian chauvinist ideology whose vitality was vigilantly upheld both in Vilnius and Moscow.

The Search for Alternative Periodizations and Spatial Models An Attempt to Rehabilitate the Idea of Statehood. As was mentioned earlier, the first “case” related to the creation of a periodization of Lithuania’s history in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography dates to 1950 following the appearance of Jurginis’ article.593 By stating that the core of the new temporal model should be moments marking economic and political development in the state, he tried to combine the idea of growing Lithuanian statehood with changes in manufacturing and social relations. Jurginis’ periodization model of Lith- uanian history consisted of seven parts.

Primitive communal society (before the mid-13th c.) The state’s feudal fragmentation (mid-13th–late 14th c.) Feudal serfdom monarchy (1387–1569) Feudal serfdom Commonwealth (second half of the 16th–late 18th c.) Lithuania as part of the Russian Empire (late 18th c.–1917) Bourgeois Lithuania (1919–1940) Socialist Lithuania (from mid-1940)

Distinguishing the period of Lithuania as part of the Russian Empire, Ju- rginis highlights that from the late 18th century to 1861 a feudal order was in place, whilst from 1861 until the October Revolution, a capitalist structure existed.594 The bourgeois period in Lithuania, he suggested, should be divided into two qualitatively different stages: “Up until the coup of December 17, 1926, it was a bourgeois-democratic state, whereupon it became a fascist s t a t e”. 595 Even though Jurginis tried to combine the statehood component in his periodization of Lithuanian history with the socio-economic formation scheme, this decision nevertheless left him exposed to harsh criticism. At an Institute of History staff meeting held on April 18, 1950, Jurginis’ article was discussed along with his project for a program on the history of the Lithua- nian SSR for higher education institutions. The meeting’s participants criticized the periods “Lithuania as part of the Russian Empire” and “Bourgeois Lith- uania” that he had distinguished, and summarizing the assessments coming 27 Juozas Jurginis (second row, third from left), a historian who continuously promoted the idea of combining aspects of Lithua- nian statehood with socio-economic formations and tried to preserve the periodization offered in Adolfas Šapoka’s history book, in inter-war years wore a military uniform of the army that defended the country’s statehood. Courtesy of Julius Jurginis.

from the meeting, Žiugžda stated that “the 19th and 20th century periodization of Lithuanian history has to be fundamentally corrected, removing all unscientific, anti-Marxist concepts that comrade Jurginis has declared in his program project and in the Tarybinė Mokykla [The Soviet School] article”.596 The second round of criticism aimed at the historian who dared to think independently came around on April 22, 1950 during a meeting of the Institute of History directorate. Here Žiugžda once again reproached Jurginis over his disregard of the director’s opinions on his History of the Lithuanian SSR Pro- gram and the independently created periodization model publicized in Tary- binė Mokykla that had not been sanctioned by the leadership, and that he had not wanted to admit to his errors, thus eroding the collective’s united structure.597 Jurginis’ initiative was condemned again at a closed meeting of the Academy of Sciences Primary Party organization on June 25, 1950.598 On July 3, 1950, speaking at the F. Dzerzhinski district’s 4th Party Conference in Vil- nius, the district’s first secretary referred to Jurginis’ ideas (e.g., the decision not to distinguish the “socialist revolution” of 1918–1919) as a “deviation”.599 Traces of this ideological talking-down reached the public as well with the publication of Žiugžda’s article.600 It stated that Jurginis had “taken to openly “Syntheses of History” 185 repeating bourgeois-nationalist concepts”, whilst his provisions were erroneous and anti-Marxist. A new avalanche of accusations fell upon the historian in 1951 following an incident at the University of Marxism-Leninism (pp. 136–137). In that same year during a session of the Academy of Sciences general assembly, along with the accusations of “subservience to the West” that were thrown at the historian, his “sins” committed whilst creating the periodization model of Lithua- nian history were also brought up. Delivering a scathing speech at a meeting on April 24, 1951, the Institute of History director Žiugžda noted:

Comrade Jurginis has drawn attention many times, and received numerous strict orders over his objectivist declarations in his scientific research works. Without mentioning any other examples, I would like to remind you of one such declaration made in his article in Tarybinė mokykla regarding the periodization of Lithuania’s history. Comrade Jurginis, without reflecting on the Institute’s orders, took a purely bourgeois objectivist, a nationalist approach regarding this matter.601

However Jurginis did not accept defeat and continued to try to combine the socio-economic formation and developing statehood aspects in the periodization of Lithuanian history. This came in the form of his criticism of the firstHistory of the Lithuanian SSR textbook where the main accent falls on accusations of nationalism, directly related to the features of its temporal model. In it, turning points in political history completely overwhelmed the scheme of changes in socio-economic structures.

Primitive society (? – the first years of the new millennium …) Formation of the Lithuanian state and existence until union with Poland (1236–1569) Lithuania in one state with Poland (1569–1795) Lithuania as part of the Russian Empire (1795–1914) The October Revolution, the fight for the creation of a socialist state (1917–1919) Lithuania – a bourgeois state (1919–1940) Lithuania – a Soviet Socialist Republic (from 1940)

Even though Jurginis paid quite a bit of attention to historiographical clichés in the more detailed sections of this scheme, this was obviously not enough for save him from experiencing one of the most serious challenges in 186 Aurimas Švedas his academic career. The “flawed” temporal model, as one of the most significant “methodological ideological” shortcomings of the text, was mentioned during a meeting of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) on September 15, 1961 and during various public and “internal use only” reviews of the textbook. Despite this pressure from all sides, Jurginis was not one to unconditionally deny his periodization principles and continued to demonstrate them, given the opportunity, as part of his compilation The History of Lithuania for foreign readers. The reinstatement of statehood in 1990 revealed another ambiguous feature of Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography: under the earlier conditions of restriction and tension, historians did not write texts that they kept “in the drawer”. Once freedom of thought, the spoken word and the press returned, it became apparent that there were in fact no articles or monographs that had been written during Soviet rule but kept hidden from the light of day that attested to the spiritual or professional resistance against the ideologization of Soviet history. A consolation in this regard could be the fact that the drawers of those censors who were charged with supervising humanities and cultural studies researchers contained more than enough manuscripts by authors who had not been able to overcome all the conjunctural barriers put in their way. A particularly important source in the study conducted as part of this book is Jurginis’ The History of Lithuania prepared in 1966 for foreign readers. It was meant to be printed by the publishing house Mintis.602 This manuscript enhances Jurginis’ portrait as a scientist with one more fundamental stroke, and also lets us examine how far the deliberation of and eventual decisions regarding the periodization of Lithuanian history could actually go. During the Soviet period, historians were in general inclined to announce that the Western reader had not “reached” the level of the Soviet person, which is why texts had to be written differently for this other audience. “Differently” in this case meant “more objectively” and “more accurately”. Naturally, these rather cynical ideas were masked by ideologically “correct” formulae: “we need to adapt our Soviet research in a way so that it might reach our readers in foreign countries”.603 We can only guess whether Jurginis’ obvious attempt at writing the history of Lithuania “differently” was the main reason behind it never actually being published. In any case, there is no doubt that the periodization model created by Jurginis for this text is consistent with the expression of his reflexion. In the manuscript of the history of Lithuania for the foreign reader, material has been grouped in six broad-ranging parts, five of which mark fundamental elements of this periodization. “Syntheses of History” 187

Lithuania – the centre of a major East European state (from the 13th c. to 1569) Lithuania in a commonwealth with Poland (from 1569 to 1795) Lithuania as part of the Russian Empire Lithuania between two world wars Lithuania as part of the USSR

If this historical synthesis had been published, we would have to state that in the 1960s Jurginis had actually succeeded in returning to the Lituano-centric model presented in the history text edited by Adolfas Šapoka. By extending the first complete chronological boundary as far as 1569, the author of the text denotes the following highlights in this periodization: the creation of the Lithuanian state, its dominance (associated with the addition of Russian lands that had begun back in the 13th century), and the 16th century, which has un- reservedly been called the “Golden Age”. Giving significance to this period, according to the author, was made possible thanks to several facts:

Lithuanian writing was established, along with Lithuanian historiography, higher education, architecture flourished, as did the arts, and the theatre. Historians and poets have taken marked interest in this period, and the greatest number of works has been written about it specifically. Along the curve denoting the early Lithuanian state and social progress, this period was the summit from which in the mid-17th century economic, political and cultural decline commenced, which lasted until the last quarter of the 18th century.604

What is the basis for Jurginis’ distinction of the period from 1569 to 1795 as an independent stage? He was inclined to treat the Union of Krewo of 1385 as a “formal” union,605 whereas the Union of Lublin of 1569, according to him, was the implacable beginning of the “erosion” of Lithuania’s statehood: the GDL, as he remarked, was “buried within the Rzeczpospolita”.606 In his attempts to define the reasons behind the turning point of 1795 in terms of Lithuanian statehood, Jurginis mentioned: 1. the second edition of serfdom; 2. “the democracy of the nobility”; 3. the lack of an idea encouraging national consolidation; and 4. external forces – conflicts with Sweden and Russia.607 Discussing the outcomes of Lithuania’s incorporation into Russia in 1795, Jurginis could not help avoiding “canonical” statements which laid to rest all aspects of Soviet-era historiography. However, the identification alone of this part of the text sufficed to hold the reader’s attention within the field of the 188 Aurimas Švedas spreading of Lithuanian statehood. The two final accents of his periodization of Lithuanian history served a similar purpose: “Lithuania between the two world wars” and “Lithuania as part of the USSR”. Jurginis not only tried to create an alternative periodization, he also sought to correct the spatial model of Lithuanian history that had been disseminated in the official discourse of the Soviet period. Notwithstanding the field of conjuncture, which the director of the Institute of History Vaitkevičius had accurately compared to a minefield,608 Jurginis was a historian who dared to go further than was allowed. Using the GDL as an arena for encounters between the East and the West, a “barrier” separating these civilizational monads, and the concept of the GDL as a unifying “highway”, he tried to create a unique image of this historical subject. A subject which up until the introduction of Christianity was under the Byzantine cultural sphere of influence,609 and after 1387 gravitated to the West (Jurginis firstly highlighted the social and political aspects of conversion to Christianity, maintaining the view that pagan Lithuania, in terms of its material culture, was in no way inferior to the West).610 In the East–West interactive space, Jurginis depicted Lithuania as a naturally developing historical actor. Discussing the genesis of the Lithuanian state, the author stressed that here, social and judicial relations unlike in Russia, Prussia or Livonia, developed “mostly under the initiative of domestic forces”.611 Jurginis also demonstrated that in undergoing the process of independent development, Lithuania was able to choose between historical alternatives that presented themselves over time. Insights such as these obviously broke through all the existing soviet historiographical clichés, while the arguments selected by the author clearly aimed to demolish the stereotype of Lithuania as a passive historical actor that had become entrenched in readers’ consciousness. In his presentation of a description of the economic crisis that had befallen the GDL in the 16th century, Jurginis highlighted:

The government, searching for recourse and wanting to increase its in- come from the estates, saw two ways of doing this: one way had been employed in Western Europe, whilst the second was being trialled in the Russian lands. In Western Europe, tributes, taxes and other obligations to the landowner and state were expected from a set plot of land, while in the Russian lands, the same things were expected from a serf’s ‘soul’. Lithuania took the first path, and proceeded with its agrarian reforms in the second half of the 16th century.612 “Syntheses of History” 189 Obviously Jurginis had not overrated the positive influence of “big brother” on Lithuania. Moreover, in his description of the Third Partition of 1795, there is not a word written about the positive significance of this event on Lithua- nia,613 – yet therefore he went into great detail on the influence of the Statute of Lithuania on Russian laws.614 Of course, in his account of 20th-century Lith- uanian history Jurginis was forced to return to the postulates of Soviet historiography, but his created depiction of the general spatial model only served to further accentuate the falseness and caricatural nature of this ideologization.

The Spread of the Baroque Concept in Lithuania’s Cultural History. An additional attempt at creating a distance from Soviet-era historiographical canon was the process of compiling the synthesis of Lithuania’s cultural history.615 This work released in 1981 was of major interest amongst the scientific community and the public. In a report of the Academy of Sciences Party committee discussing the activities of the social sciences institutes for the period 1980–1981, it was stated that “the book by Jurginis and Lukšaitė, Lithuania’s Cultural His- tory, met with wide public acclaim”.616 Not just historians, but also philologists, philosophers, and even renowned artists made willing and lively reviews of the book.617 This particular synthesis of Lithuanian cultural history did not go by unnoticed by scientists from the People’s Republic of Poland618 and representatives of the Lithuanian diaspora.619 The general mood which emanated from this work was probably best described by the émigré historian Vincas Trumpa: “That’s why it is worthy of the most serious attention”.620 This attitude was determined not only by the fact that this was the newest research object in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography, or its genre, but also due to certain meaning-laden slips in the text which disclosed the authors’ attempts at independent thinking and avoiding the uncritical repetition of postulates from the official discourse. The decision to doubt the order of the official discourse and to correct the periodization model established in historiography came about already during the discussion stages of the intended cultural history synthesis.621 On Octo- ber 10, 1974, at a meeting of the research board of the Institute of History on the future work, one of its co-authors Jurginis noticed: “Two positions regarding the periodization criteria have become apparent: 1) to base it on periods that arose during the cultural development process, or 2) to present it according to socio-economic development periods”.622 The meeting participants’ opinions regarding these alternatives differed. Jučas, Zaborskaitė and Regina Volkaitė-Kulikauskienė were for the first alternative. Jurginis, Šarmaitis 190 Aurimas Švedas and Vaitkevičius defended prioritizing the formation model. The director of the Institute of History stressed that “this is a question of principle methodology”.623 The matter was resolved by creating a “compromise” version of the cultural history temporal model which tried to combine the formational scheme and the approaches maintained by the two authors of the book – Ju- rginis and Lukšaitė. As a result, a scheme comprising of three major components was offered: “Culture at the time of feudal dominance”, “The growth of Renaissance culture”, and “Culture in late feudalism”. At first glance, the rather formal means of resolving the problem at a content level hid the authors’ attempts to oppose the official discourse. But they should not be viewed -un ambiguously, as one (Jurginis’ concept) later became the official discourse in terms of the other (Lukšaitė’s model). Having supported Šarmaitis’ and Vaitkevičius’ position at the meeting on October 10, 1974, when compiling the book Jurginis “squeezed in” the Re- naissance era as an independent component into the feudal socio-economic formation. This was a direct link to his concept outlined back in 1965 on the Renaissance and the spread of humanism in Lithuania (16th–mid-17th century), which he used to try to correct the prevailing official discourse of the day.624 This concept was based on recording the beginnings of capitalism in the 16th century. Looking back on this moment from today’s position, we could say that this kind of step by Jurginis could be considered a sign of “thawing” taking place in historiography. Using references to Engels and accentuating the significance of the Renaissance, Jurginis tried to include the most general cultural issues and the discussion of separate culture-related events into the official discourse. This effort made by Jurginis was later repeated in other texts through the formulation of conceptual insights,625 and the introduction of new historiographical subject matter.626 Still during the Soviet period, Bumblauskas criticized the decision by Ju- rginis to record the beginnings of capitalism in the 16th century, arguing that this kind of concept for the spread of the Renaissance in Lithuania was speculative, that it did not resonate in the works of other historians, and that it contradicted the insights formulated in other texts by Jurginis himself regarding the features of the spread of feudalism and the chronological guidelines of this socio-economic formation.627 Returning to this polemic-by-correspondence and no longer restricted by Soviet-era canons, in 1994 Bumblauskas called Jurginis’ depiction of the Renaissance in Lithuania a “synchronic concept of cultural history”, which merely expanded on the ideas of Russian historian Nikolai Konrad and conveyed a kind of “embellishment” of the synchronic development of world history as postulated in Marxist-Leninist historiography.628 “Syntheses of History” 191 Having this in mind, Jurginis’ latter attempt at opposing the official discourse and creating an alternative periodization should not be considered entirely successful. The distinction of the Renaissance era (mid-16th–early 17th century) in Lithuania’s Cultural History complicated the work’s structure. This strained decision by Jurginis and his inadequately transparent depiction of other chronological accents stood in opposition to Lukšaitė’s consistently portrayed evolution of the Baroque era (early 17th–first third of the 18th century). It has been called by Bumblauskas an “alternative” to the officially sanctioned temporal model structures in the syntheses of the time, also to Jurginis’ speculative depictions of the Renaissance.629

Temporal model in Lithuania’s Cultural History Culture at the time of feudal dominance (1009? / 13th?–late 16th c.? / 1588?) The growth of Renaissance culture (early 15th?–early 17th? / mid-17th? / second half of the 18th? / late 18th c.?) Culture in late feudalism (early 17th–first third of the 18th c.)

The tensions surrounding this co-authored text which in many aspects contradicted one another were highlighted by Lukšaitė in an interview as well:

Professor Jurginis maintained the opinion that everything that was progressive should be included in the history of culture – first of all, [everything] associated with the Renaissance. Meanwhile the Baroque period, according to this scientist, was an era displaying no progress whatsoever. That was why everything beyond the boundaries of the Re- naissance was not held to be an object worthy of research. This kind of position came across as quite odd: the section on Albertas Vijūkas-Ko- jelavičius [1609–1677, a Lithuanian historian, Jesuit monk, theologian and philosopher] was compiled [for publication] by Jurginis himself, which is why leaving him out of cultural history would have been impossible. All the more so that this historian’s [Kojelavičius’] text was written in Latin. Meanwhile in the Baroque period, the accent was on texts reflecting a mixture of languages. So from all of this one could gather that with the onset of the mid-17th century and Vijūkas-Ko- jelavičius, the Renaissance came to an end in Lithuania… And I could not bring myself to agree with this kind of approach. Especially when you take into consideration the number of texts. On the other hand, the first Baroque churches started appearing in 1594–1598. Construction at Nesvyzh commenced, which exhibited genuine Baroque architecture, 28 The synthesis titled “Lithuanian Cultural History” was initially started being compiled by a collective of three individuals (from left): Juozas Jurginis, Ingė Lukšaitė and Feliksas Sliesoriūnas. Due to lateness in arranging a final version of the text, it was decided that a significantly shorter version of the synthesis should be sent off for printing. Courtesy of the Lithuanian Institute of History.

without a doubt… So I attempted to reflect this change in eras in my text. But only as far as I could without completely angering my co-author. Regardless of this, my approach nevertheless annoyed Jurginis… You would have most likely noticed that the texts which comprised the synthesis were completely autonomous. I tried to correct the parts in my text in which Jurginis was in complete opposition to my opinion. All except for one thing: the issue of languages in use in the GDL.630

Lukšaitė’s concept of the Baroque era demands a separate historiographical study – here only the most general features of this concept will be discussed, which help to express the characteristics of the author’s constructed temporal model. “Syntheses of History” 193 In this respect, the sub-section of the first chapter “The social structure of society and forms of cultural development” is of significant importance, as it gives a precise discussion of the principles of this book’s periodization and introduces the conceptual distinction between “popular” and “institutional” culture.631 Even though the part of the synthesis prepared by Lukšaitė does in a formal sense frame the late feudalism period, the author first of all ac- centuates the Baroque: “Baroque art is typical of this period, and even though this was not the only style from the 17th century, and that art from this period was not stylistically consistent, the influence of the Baroque era can be felt in all fields of art, in ways of thinking and in ways of life as well”.632 Later, giving a panoramic overview of culture from the early 17th to the first-third of the 18th century, the author consistently uses the terms “late feudalism” and “Ba- roque” interchangeably, up until the last chapter titled “Art from the Baroque era” where the stress on the socio-economic formation variable retreats completely into the second plane.633 Lukšaitė depicts the Baroque period in Lithuanian history not in a static way, but as a process. This cultural model, much like a living and consistently changing organism, is based on the divide between “institutional” and “popular” forms of culture, mutually related through “associating factors”.634 The historian has carefully reconstructed the most important aspects of the co-existence of these two levels, highlighting the parallels of these processes.635 Marcelijus Martinaitis has accurately called this depiction of culture a “communication system concept”, noting that “this understanding of culture, as a kind of communication system, not picking out only the most relevant parts, helps give a better explanation of both its ethnic uniqueness and the general international character, without ignoring adjacent or bordering cultural contexts and their interaction”.636 Alongside examination of specific cultural institutions which comprised the “communication system”, the part of the synthesis prepared by Lukšaitė also featured expression of the history of ideas in the chapters “Education” and “Science” from Part III of the book. What then is the core of the concept which made it possible for the synthesis co-author to create a fluent, structured and non-static depiction of the Baroque period in Lithuania? The text of Lithuania’s Cultural History does not reveal this, and thus it remains unclear just what theoretical foundation the author relied upon. Yet this lack of meaningful accents should not come as a surprise. As has already been mentioned numerous times, scientists who formulated original insights in the Soviet period had to hide their means of access and the innovativeness of their conclusions, and so in this case, Lukšaitė’s 194 Aurimas Švedas autoreflexion serves as a critically significant source. She is probably the only historian to have been interviewed who talked about her efforts to find theoretical alternatives to the postulates of Soviet-era historiography beyond the limitations of Marxism and in this way create an autonomous theoretical and methodological identity. In this respect, the first thing to be mentioned by Lukšaitė was the influence of Western historical anthropology:

I simply searched for a cultural history concept or method which would allow me to cover all of society, and all its different layers. This search took a very long time, until I managed to work out the fundamental basis or conceptual backbone of what I was after. Then it became clear that the most important approach for my research would have to be via anthropological literature. Not our ethnology or ethnography, but Western anthropology, which opened up the potential, or provided the instruments for spanning the entire cultural dynamism that took place in society. These things became clear to me only when I was writing the cultural history of Lithuania together with Professor Juozas Jurginis. Unfortunately, I was forced to keep these things to myself, and I could revert to these crystallized approaches only with great caution, so that they would not become too prominent as this position, in effect, was not acceptable to those people who were assessing the already-written text.637

The theoretical alternatives discovered by Lukšaitė and applied in the text of this synthesis were at least inferred by the “institutional” and “popular” culture divide. Broadening her approach, the author managed to base her conclusions not just on works by ethnographers who held a rather independent position in official Soviet-era historiography, open to theoretical innovations coming from the West (like those conceived by Julian Bromley),638 but also invoke the attitudes of Western authors (Hungarian ethnographer Béla Gunda).639 This subtle explication of her professional identity displayed Lukšaitė’s attempts to escape from the “Marixist-Leninist reserve”. These efforts allowed her to create an alternative to the schemes of Lithuanian history postulated by the official discourse and the synchronic conception of the Renaissance period. Unfortunately, this move should nevertheless be viewed as a challenge that could not be completely realized. This, for the most part, depended on the speculative alternatives to the official discourse that were suggested by the cultural history synthesis co-author, Jurginis, which “drowned out” the fluent depiction offered by Lukšaitė in their common cultural history periodization model. “Syntheses of History” 195 Even if the temporal models applied in Lukšaitė’s and Jurginis’ texts were not in harmony with one another, both authors tried to come up with a correct solution regarding Lithuania’s place along the East–West axis. Their chosen research object – the history of culture – freed the historians from giving an unavoidable pro-Muscovite orientation to Lithuania’s past. This can be confirmed also by the trend observed in other Soviet Lithuanian history syntheses of maintaining a Euro-centric view at the socio-cultural level. The introduction written by Jurginis makes note of the positive role of the state established by Lithuanians in European history, which was later discussed in more detail relating to the Lithuanian Metrica,640 the Statutes,641 and Gothic architecture.642 They also managed to avoid historiographical cli- chés when presenting Lithuania’s aggressive foreign policy regarding Russian lands.643 Discussions on the outcomes of this policy in effect questioned the legitimacy of the postulates expounded in the official discourse: “In becoming a multinational state, the GDL grew stronger in an economic and a militant sense, being able to resist the Teutonic Order’s aggression, and defend itself from Tartar-Mongol attacks”.644 In the part written by Lukšaitė, the Moscow-centric model is also ignored completely. Instead, she discusses Lithuania’s attempt at a creative reaction to Western Europe’s socio-cultural processes and phenomena. The author goes through and draws attention to instances where this process was particularly successful, allowing cultural phenomena in the GDL to become an integral part of life in Western civilization,645 and cases where for various reasons this reception took place slowly and with difficulty.646 In this way, the close relationship of Lithuania as a historical subject with Western European civilization was revealed.

CHAPTER 5

Alternatives to The science of the Official Discourse Marxism is a science of com- in Research bat, and not for wimps. […] Not on Feudalism everyone can be a good person. We are good only to our people in the labour camps. If there is no combat, then what kind of Marxist are you? Marxist ideology is a combatant ideology.647

Alternatives to the Official Discourse in Research on Feudalism 199

Features of Research on the Rise of Serfdom in Lithuania For the absolute majority of Lithuanian historians, Marxism was associated with intellectual and existential coercion, arising from the whims of the prophetizing, speculative historiosophical doctrine that wanted to assume the power of an axiom,648 and forced them to search for specific “masks”. The closer the topic of research was to the Soviet period, in a chronological sense, the more complex was the “mask” of mandatory quotes and rhetoric which hid the historian’s individuality. However, regardless of the scepticism of Marxism that prevailed in the community of researchers of the past, Soviet-era historiography does feature the efforts of some researchers to maintain a sense of autonomous thinking by choosing “pure Marxism” to deepen their knowledge of history. This insight was made by Lithuanian historiographical researcher Al- fredas Bumblauskas who offered methodological guidelines for analyzing Soviet-era historiography which made it possible to pinpoint radically different types of Marxism in texts by historians, ranging from “communist pragmatism” orientated at the realization of ideological objectives, “futur- istic Leninism-Stalinism” which could sometimes offer valuable scientific insights, to “anti-communist Marxism” which aimed to run parallel to “pure” Marxist teaching.649 In the research conducted for Chapter Five of this book, the “anti-communist Marxism” concept formulated by Bumblauskas is particularly important:

In so much as how many fundamental insights into civilization development there are in Marxist teaching (firstly the East–West divide based on the concept of Asiatic production, as well as the model of development of Western society), accordingly, that is how far we should consider this part of Marx’s works as going beyond the boundaries of futurism. […] These aspects of Marx’s works and anti-communist Marx- ism which was formed on their basis are what allows us to distinguish Marxism, in the narrow sense, from futurism.650

In researching Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography and trying to identify the above mentioned types of Marxism it contained, Bumblauskas put together a hypothesis concerning the importance of specific texts by Juozas Jurginis and Edvardas Gudavičius, at the same time outlining the contours for this book’s 200 Aurimas Švedas last research object – to search for expressions of authentic thinking related to the correct application of Marxism in research of the past. Thus, in Chapter Five, using the categories “communist pragmatism”, “futur- istic Leninism-Stalinism” and “anti-communist Marxism”, we shall try to discuss cases exhibiting a creative association with Marxist theory in Soviet-era Lithua- nian historiography, and at the same time raise the question: How did the attentive study of Marxism and its masterful application help certain scientists to correct the general spatial and temporal models of Lithuanian history, underlining the typological proximity of socio-economic processes to those in Western Europe? In searching for historians’ attempts at autonomy, in terms of the official discourse, the focus shall be on the field in which researchers were the fur- thest removed from various ideological postulates, historiographical clichés and threats of simulating the historical reality. That is why in the fifth chapter of this book, the object of analysis is research of feudal socio-economic relations in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography, as well as some of the most important paradigm texts by historians from this epoch. By limiting ourselves to research on the epoch of feudalism – Jurginis’ work Baudžiavos įsigalėji- mas Lietuvoje [The Rise of Serfdom in Lithuania] and certain works from the day by Gudavičius – we understand that there could have indeed been more “pure” Marxism in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography, and that we can search for its examples differently, by turning our attention to research of the epoch of capitalism.651 However, this field should be considered a “zone of increased danger” due to the particularly active deformative effect of the official discourse that was in place. A historiographical “boundary marker” that especially complicated the capitalism researchers’ opportunities to formulate claims contradicting the official discourse may be mentioned as an example. What we have in mind is the thesis on the alleged positive significance of Lith- uania’s accession to Russia in 1795. The existence of analogous rules and prohibitions made it particularly difficult for researchers of the capitalism epoch to apply the postulates of “pure” Marxism in their studies.

Marxist Theory as a Determinant of the Object of Research. When analyzing Ju- rginis’ theoretical and methodological reflexion during the second period of development of Soviet-era historiography, his “dissonant” approach towards the official discourse becomes rather apparent. Especially whilst creating his unique periodization of Lithuanian history, he came across as a broad-thinking scientist who was unafraid of breaking stereotypes. Similar characteristics can be found in Jurginis’ most important work titled The Rise of Serfdom in Lithuania. Alternatives to the Official Discourse in Research on Feudalism 201 During the compilation of this study, he successfully applied the most general Marxist model which explained the course of history as continuous progress, along with the formation aspect. By applying the socio-economic formation model in the evolution of society and the economy in the GDL, Jurginis made insights into the relationship between serfdom and feudalism, as well as the suitability of Friedrich Engel’s “second serfdom” concept in Lithuania’s case. In the first instance, in the introduction of the study Jurginis poses the question:

The abolition of serfdom created a dividing line between the feudal and capitalist socio-economic formations. Serfdom was the main pillar of feudalism. The question arises, is the history of serfdom also the history of the beginning and rise of feudalism, or only the history of serfdom itself?652

No less important, according to Jurginis, was the second problem: “…the history of the transformation of free peasants into serfs in a given part of East- ern Europe can help answer the question: was the “second edition of serfdom” not the first such phase for those countries which had not experienced slavery and entered feudalism straight after the collapse of primitive communal societies”.653 In trying to resolve these fundamental problems in the social history of the GDL, Jurginis creatively exploited the theoretical and methodological potentials of Marxism. The latter circumstance played a rather significant role in as far as The Rise of Serfdom in Lithuania became one of the most important works in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography, which is something even the community of historians at the time was inclined to admit. During the Soviet period, Jurginis’ study met with great interest from his colleagues. This is tes- tified by the volume of reviews and the assessments they contained, saying the work was very solid indeed (despite various minor, sometimes conceptual comments).654 Lithuanian émigré also showered the study’s author with words of acclaim. A positive review was published in the pro-Soviet American Lith- uanian newspaper Laisvėje [In Freedom].655 Émigré historians who did not harbour any great sentiments towards the Soviet government also responded positively about the study: in a letter from Konstantinas Avižonis which Ju- rginis received in 1966, it is noted that “Your study on the rise of serfdom in Lithuania has truly been carefully written and is comprehensive”.656 In 1971 in a letter from Zenonas Ivinskis, he also applauds his colleague: “In your [book] The Rise of Serfdom in Lithuania you have not just amassed a great deal of material, but some interesting theses have also been announced”.657 202 Aurimas Švedas In contemporary Lithuanian historiography, the high recognition of the study conducted by Jurginis also goes unquestioned. The only difference would be the accents based on which the relevance of Jurginis’ study is assessed. Bumblauskas draws attention to the creative relationship with Marxism that is fostered in the book, whereas according to Vytautas Merkys, what is most worthy of attention is the “independent resolution of the historical problem concerning the genesis of feudalism in Lithuania”.658

Understanding the Differences between Western Europe – (Lithuania) – Russia. In trying to identify the ideas formulated in Jurginis’ doctoral dissertation with “anti-Communist Marxism”, a critical category which emerged in the research process was the divergent developmental paths taken by Western Europe and Russia (where Western Europe is considered the leading region in historical development) or the synchronic “civilizational dimension” of these agents’ development (where Russia is not seen as lagging behind Western Europe in any sense, rather, sometimes even as a leader in the historical process). Delving further into the details of specific texts by Jurginis, additional aspects which should be considered relate to Russia and Lithuania as different civilizational regions, and the criterion for the presence (or absence) of the qualitative difference of serfdom in these countries. Without a doubt, it would be naive to hope to chance upon direct statements in the pages of Jurginis’ study about the qualitative differences of socio-economic formations in Western Europe, Russia and Lithuania in the age of feudalism that would not be in Russia’s favour, disclosing this country’s constant socio-economic backwardness in terms of the feudal and capitalist developmental processes that took place in Western Europe. Insights such as these which did not correspond with the official discourse and were not what Soviet ideologues wished to hear were formulated in an especially subtle manner. That is why, when reading Jurginis’ study, we must be content with being able to grasp only half-spoken or half-concealed suggestions, the formulation of which are commonly likened to shadow puppetry, even by the keen Soviet-era historiography researcher. Identifying the problematic issues in the work’s foreword, Jurginis states: “The peasantry’s serfdom in Central and Eastern European countries differed greatly to Western European serfdom. The disclosure and systemization of the phenomena of this process will contribute to explaining the divergent paths of serfdom in Europe”.659 So while there is a certain divide between East and West, does it signify any regional qualitative differences? Expanding on 29 The texts written by Juozas Jurginis are very varied both in terms of themes and quality. This scientist’s study The Rise of Serfdom in Lithuania is considered one of the most fundamental Lithuanian historiographical texts from the Soviet period. Courtesy of Julius Jurginis. the idea of divergent paths of serfdom in Europe, Jurginis continues: [they] “could not be the same in those countries where feudalism emerged from the remains of slavery, compared to where feudalism emerged immediately from a primitive communal social order, bypassing slavery”.660 The conclusion which follows: “In Western Europe, feudalism emerged from a serfdom that could be likened to slavery, whereas in Eastern Europe, feudalism regressed into a serfdom that was akin to slavery…”.661 This conclusion is soon supplemented with a crucial comment: “In France and England, serfdom disappeared under the effect of objective economic conditions […], whereas in Russia serfdom had to be abolished by law”.662 Note that by defining a research field, Jurginis introduces one other important stipulation:

Serfdom and feudalism cannot always be considered as equal concepts. Some nations and states lived through the age of feudalism, but did not experience serfdom of the peasantry. F. Engels stated that the Norwegian 204 Aurimas Švedas peasant was never a serf. Similarly, a greater part of the Castilian or Swedish peasantry was also never serfs.663

These cited theses by Jurginis should be considered as subtle hints at Rus- sia’s backwardness and its “asynchronicity” with regards to West European processes. The latter “heretic” and at the same time dangerous insights for a historian from the provinces of the Soviet empire were later expanded by Jurginis, stating that the qualitative aspect of the evolution of serfdom is expressed by the dynamics of land rent: “K. Marx considered corvée-labour as the simplest and primary form of rent, while rent in kind was ascribed to a higher level of work and a higher degree of social development in general. […] Ac- cording to Marx, rent (in terms of money) was the last type of rent in the age of feudalism”.664 The insight into East and West Europe’s asynchronic development is presented once again in Jurginis’ text – rent in the West, according to an adeptly incorporated citation from Marx, “led either to land becoming the property of peasants, or a capitalist production form of rent that was paid by the capitalist land renter”.665 Meanwhile, in the East European region, “the spread of trade and the formation of a common interstate market pushed the development of the feudal economy not towards the disappearance of serfdom, but rather, towards its entrenchment”.666 The requirements of the official discourse forced Jurginis to divert the deliberation of this problem away from searching for qualitatively different types of feudalism in the East and the West, but to limit himself to particular, uniform versions of the accepted formation (“different paths of serfdom east and west of the Elbląg River”) or the repetition of specific historical phenomena within a defined space:

… was it [the rise of a corvée-labour economy] a return to early feudalism, in terms of a reversed feudal rent exchange process, or an advanced, regular phenomenon typical to feudalism? […] Until now it remains unclear whether serfdom, as it was in Russia, Poland, and Lithuania in the 17th–18th centuries, was a slightly modified repeat of 10th–13th- century serfdom, a return to a stage that had already passed, or just a gradual transformation of free peasants (смерды) into serfs?667

The second option appeared more convincing to Jurginis at least, and became a point of reference in his research. However, even without describing the difference between types of socio-economic relations in Eastern and West- ern Europe, Jurginis still came across as being quite innovative: he embarked Alternatives to the Official Discourse in Research on Feudalism 205 on correcting the depiction of one of the fundamental parts of the general Soviet scheme – the feudal East European formation – calling into question the suitability of Engels’ “second serfdom” concept in the case of Lithuania.668 This kind of turning away from the insights of a “classic”, as an important accent in Jurginis’ study was mentioned in discussions and reviews of the work. At a meeting of the Institute of History on March 12, 1963 to discuss the submission of Jurginis’ work for a doctoral degree in history, Jučas had this to say, presenting his sector’s conclusions on the text to his colleagues: “In general, this book is a very valuable piece of work. It contains not just a great deal of systemized data on Lithuania’s early history, but also makes it possible to search for a completely new answer to the question of divergent paths of serfdom in E u r o p e”. 669 Jurginis’ work received a similar appraisal in the collective review of Pashuto and Jučas,670 and also in a review of the book prepared by Polish historian Ochmański.671 This historiographical innovation by Jurginis was also evaluated during his defence of his doctoral dissertation. Evidence lies in the collective response formulated by the Estonian SSR Institute of History’s Pre-October Period sector’s scholars, which happens to start with a discussion of the second serfdom issue and how it was treated.672 This question also received a great deal of attention in the response by scholars from Lviv State University’s Department of the Western and Southern Slavs.673 It is apparent that what stopped Jurginis from completely denying the “Leninist-Stalinist” model and being able to expand on the different forms of feudalism in the East and the West was the climate of conjucture he was in, not the ineffectiveness of his methods or his approach to the problem. Nev- ertheless, Jurginis managed to record the qualitative difference between the types of serfdom that existed in Lithuania and Russia. In this case, the insights made by Gudavičius about the subtle yet very significant attempt by Jurginis to correct the depiction of 13th-century Lithuanian society that existed in So- viet-era historiography are important.

Consideration of the state not just as a tool of the exploiters, but also as a tool to transform the as-yet unexploited into the exploited was an issue that had to be resolved together with the genesis of the state and feudalism. However, given the conditions at the time, the addition of Russian lands to the Grand Duchy of Lithuania obligated historians from within the Lithuanian governorate to base their work on Russian historiography which discussed the peasantry’s circumstances first of all from the Russian lands perspective.674 206 Aurimas Švedas Jurginis, according to Gudavičius, managed to avoid this particular work model by publicly thanking the Soviet historiography authority and adept of the Leninist-Stalinist model, Boris Grekov, for his merits, and at the same time subtly pushing aside this historian into the “fringes” of this discourse and correcting another Soviet-era historiography authority Pashuto’s exceed- ingly blunt and schematic depiction of 13th-century Lithuanian society, which highlighted only two groups – the free nobility and the dependent peasantry.675 Gudavičius’ disclosure of Jurginis’ attempt at distancing himself from the application of schemes that were valid in Russian history to Lithuania reveals how these countries, as regions exhibiting different specifications, were -ac tually understood. This is also confirmed by the insight made by Jurginis on the divergent models of the development of serfdom in Russia and Lithuania (thus typologically associating it with Western Europe):

The division of peasants according to households brought the feudal system of exploitation to a crisis point from which there were two possible ways out: to make either the actual peasant or a defined plot of land the unit of duty. Feudal relations in Russia developed along the lines of the first path, leading to communal landholding with a reallocation of land, whereas the second path had already been trialled in Western Europe. The Włoka Land Reform diverted the further development of feudal relations down the second path…676

Thus, the Eastern–Western European divide in Jurginis’ concept most probably cannot be looked at as regions belonging to different civilizations, but Jurginis nevertheless highlighted the differences between the paths of development of serfdom and feudalism in Eastern and Western Europe. Besides, in terms of social and economic relations, the East European region did not appear to be completely uniform to him either way. At this point, the idea of Russia and Lithuania as qualitatively different countries becomes more pro- nounced. In Jurginis’ study Russia is not identified as an avant-garde of the historical process, or a “progressive” region. Basing his claim on the features of historical development, he also questions the suitability of applying Engels’ “second serfdom” to Lithuania. So what conclusions can we gather from this analysis? In the work discussed here, Jurginis did not ignore the “Leninist-Stalinist” model and was influenced by it; however he also presented some claims which contradicted the model in an attempt to correct its prevailing dominance or even justify his distancing from it. Yet Jurginis could not indulge in any further expansion on 30 A majority of the colleagues of Juozas Jurginis (first from right) and Edvardas Gudavičius (second from left) who worked in the Feudalism sector during the Soviet period tried to maintain a safe distance from Marxist theory, treating it primarily as a tool for deforming the historical reality. The History of Feudalism collective in Vilnius’ Old Town. Courtesy of Antanas Tyla. the ideas inherent in the “anti-Communist Marxism” model given the conditions at the time. In this respect, what is symptomatic is that in his later work, History of the Lithuanian Peasantry, that was released sixteen years later, Ju- rginis rejected the above discussed attempts from his dissertation to correct Engels’ concept.677

How did Marxist Methodology Contribute to a Better Understanding of His- tory? In the work The Rise of Serfdom in Lithuania Marxist theory is not a useless intruder. It can also not be treated only as an ancilliary measure for resolving certain problems in the history of the GDL. In Jurginis’ study, the Marxist scheme became a universal code for understanding and explicating the historical reality. Here is how he explained the fundamental problem of the genesis of the Lithuanian state: 208 Aurimas Švedas

Up until the establishment of the state, there were a number of wars, both amongst the clan leaders and other countries, and in Lithuanian history in general. The winners became the defeated and vice versa. But neither the rule of the grand duke nor the formation of the state came about as a result. After the death of Mindaugas in 1263, several dukes – potential claimants to the throne – killed one another off, yet the state did not dis- integrate due to this, despite facing major external threats at the time. Consequently, there must have already been some sort of fundamental qualitative difference between the clan leaders and the dukes. The emergence of the grand duke’s rule could not have been accidental. […] The rise of one or another individual to the position of grand duke could have depended on a chance event, but the actual establishment of state rule must have been the fruit of some economic and social process. The difference between clan leaders and dukes lay in the emergence of social classes.678

Naturally, this kind of scheme for the state’s genesis, much like the social and land ownership changes model, also described by Jurginis (with the appearance of a class society, communal land ownership first became peasants’ allods, and only then did feudal land ownership develop from allodial ownership…)679 features universal Marxist clichés into which certain facts from Lithuania’s history could easily be inserted. However, leafing through Jurginis’ work there are many instances where the most general Marxist scheme facil- itates a better understanding of the past. Like, for example, at the end of the chapter titled “General knowledge about Lithuanians”, where Jurginis summa- rizes data from the earliest available sources, stating: “Data from the 9th–12th centuries, whilst very fragmented, gives us a general, more theoretical understanding about the beginnings of class society”.680 This conclusion is immediately followed by an excerpt from Marxist theory: “Class relations are first of all manufacturing relations where, in one way or another, exploitation is involved. Manufacturing relations express the property relationship between the manufacturer/producer and the manager of the means of production”.681 After this passage, Jurginis returns to his initial idea: “Reaching a more specific conclusion regarding property relations and types of human exploitation from this general and superficial data is not possible”.682 Then he formulates some questions which prompt Marxist theory:

In order to define these relations, a much more accurate image of the production power and social structure at the time is needed; it is not Alternatives to the Official Discourse in Research on Feudalism 209 enough to state that farming was the primary activity of Lithuanians, as we need to know the level of farming they engaged in, the level of agricultural equipment they utilized, the scope of crafts and trade, and to have an idea of how their settlements looked, and what kinds of relations existed between family and community members.683

Obviously, in this case, the Marxist model is used not just to define the directions the forthcoming research study shall take. Jurginis specialized in constructing Marxist explanations for the historical reality. This feature of Ju- rginis’ work was highlighted by Jučas back in 1963 at a discussion of the book organized at the Institute of History, who said that The Rise of Serfdom in Lith- uania was a creative, “non-declarative” Marxist work.684 This book by Jurginis on the entrenchment of serfdom in Lithuania unveils symptoms of the “heresies” or “erosion” of the Soviet version of Marxism. The manner in which Jurginis handled Marxism displayed his trademark vital ideas and bold insights, yet also complicated and often contradictive reflexions. This masterful control of the theory allowed him to test and correct the fundamental postulates of Soviet historiography hewn out in Moscow referring to the non-identical historical paths taken by Western Europe, Lithuania and Russia. What is especially worth noting is that the ideologically most dangerous accents from Jurginis’ work were not considered as a deviation from the “general line” in the Soviet period, nor were they pushed to the “fringes of the discourse”, meaning they could have a positive effect on the evolution of the Lithuanian historiography of the time. Jurginis’ study received a positive assessment in Moscow as well, as can be gathered from the favourable review in the Soviet Union’s leading academic journal История СССР.685

The “Latently Operating Paradigm” in Research on Early Grand Duchy of Lithuanian Society If Jurginis’ unique and openly declared attitude towards a number of problems in the science of history were often a constant cause of tensions and criticism, then Gudavičius’ most important insights matured in the quiet spaces of libraries and archives. The foundations for the conceptual civilizational model for Lithuanian and world history formulated by one of the most famous Lithu- anian historians686 developed like a “latently operating paradigm”. Application of this concept by Polish historiographer Jan Pomorski (the “latently operating paradigm” describes the historian’s conscious decision to adopt and apply 210 Aurimas Švedas certain methodological approaches in his work without verbalizing the fact)687 is deemed valid because Soviet-era sources only offer records of the most general features of this scientist’s reflexion: problematic thinking and a resulting high level of scientific research. And this should come as no surprise. Some aspects of Gudavičius’ concepts that were then “in-the-making” could only have existed behind the scenes, which is why in order to understand its features then and to spot the changes in his ways of thinking, we must take a retrospective glance. In this regard, especially important sources are texts and interviews with Gudavičius made after 1990. His most conceptual texts were published in 2002 in a collection of works titled Lietuvos europėjimo keliais [Along Lith- uania’s Paths to Europeanization]. To understand the most important accents of and basis for the earlier-mentioned schemes of development of Lithuanian and world history, certain other articles are also rather informative.688 Retrospection offers one other explanation as to why Gudavičius’ concept stayed undisclosed in its entirety for so long. This may have also partially determined his fundamental methodological provision that remained unchanged even after 1990: to proceed very slowly from a thorough examination of separate details towards the making of generalizations. This could most likely explain why Gudavičius’ civilization concept had to “wait its turn” until the very end of the 20th century, in order to contextualize specific subjects he was researching (initially this was the evolution of 12th–13th-century Lithuanian society, later – the period in Lithuanian history from the formation of the state to the Union of Lublin). Regardless of all of this, it can be said that the contours of Gudavičius’ theoretical civilization model started becoming clearer back in the Soviet period. The first to be noted would have to be the East–West typological divide -ac cording to the formula: allodization = European feudalism.

Lithuania’s and Russia’s Typological Differences. Gudavičius took the first step towards creating his own model of Lithuanian and world history via his candidate’s dissertation titled “The enserfment of the Lithuanian peasantry and its reflection in the First Statute of Lithuania (1529)”.689 Discussion of Jurginis’ study The Rise of Serfdom in Lithuania already referred to Gudavičius’ insight about how Jurginis successfully avoided ac- knowledging the typological similarities between Lithuania and the ancient Russian lands as well as the unwritten requirement of applying Russian historiographical models to Lithuanian social history research. In the introduction, he clearly defined the field of interest of his study and his resource Alternatives to the Official Discourse in Research on Feudalism 211 base, which allowed him to focus on the Lithuanian aspect: “It should also be noted that the aim in this work was to consider only ethnographical Lithua- nian material and material on those closely related neighbouring Belarusian regions. In doing so, reflecting phenomena characteristic of only Belarus or Ukraine should be avoided. If in some cases documents from a more distant Belarusian region have been used, this has been done only where there are parallels in the Lithuanian material, and a separate clause for doing so is always mentioned”.690 A complete set of “safety switches” was put in place for the historiographical overview as well: Gudavičius reproached the “bourgeois” Russian science tradition that “it had failed to differentiate between the Lith- uanian and the Slavic parts of the Lithuanian state in its history of the peas- a n t r y ”. 691 Gudavičius also tried to maintain a safe distance from the input of Soviet historiography. Like Jurginis, Gudavičius aimed to “exclude” Boris Grekov from his field of research as painlessly as possible, limiting himself to making the standard unavoidable compliments to this coryphaeus of the Leninist-Stalinist historiographical model.692 Incidentally, Gudavičius nevertheless encountered Grekov in a discussion of Pashuto’s concept on the characteristics of the genesis of Lithuanian feudalism. A certain degree of manoeuvering was called for again:

On some questions Pashuto based his ideas somewhat too boldly and without specific reserve on Grekov’s concept on the rise of feudalism. In an overall sense, this concept is correct and its application in describing the genesis of Lithuanian feudalism is an advanced approach. At the same time, of course, a more detailed check of this concept is required, taking into consideration local circumstances.693

Such subtle hints about the necessity of “considering local circumstances” in effect hid a sharp collision between the Stalinist model which unified/deformed the historical reality and the very cautious yet consistent efforts of Gu- davičius himself to create his own “latently operating” paradigm. In this case it should be noted that even whilst trying to avoid the categorical Stalinist model schemes, when the situation called for it, Gudavičius cleverly exploited the claims made by his adepts, which legitimized the allod issue and its significance in Lithuanian social history research. In this way, Pa- shuto’s authority was adhered to, making it possible for Gudavičius to incor- porate the strong motif of allod development in Lithuania in his dissertation text and use it as an argument, claiming that “developed allods are a characteristic feature of the formation of feudalism in Lithuania”.694 212 Aurimas Švedas Gudavičius repeated the latter especially important accent again: “In Lith- uania, the feudal state was being created when allodial ownership was already developed”.695 The later reasoning and means of argumentation Gudavičius offered clearly displayed this scientist’s consistent efforts at making a principle association between social history research on the early GDL and the allod category, as well as recording the resulting typological differences of Lithuanian society compared to Russian society. This move did not allow the application of the Stalinist historiographical models to depictions of Lithuanian society that were created in Moscow resting solely on the course of early Russian history. Gudavičius’ efforts stand out from the general Soviet-era Lithuanian historiographical context in that empirical data is analyzed actively and creatively applying Marxist theory. Indeed, Gudavičius’ reflexions in his dissertation text cannot be treated as completely liberal theoretical modelling, but his efforts in moving in this direction signalled that by this stage, a unique approach to research had started becoming evident in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography.

Relevance of the Allod Issue. The importance of the allod is highlighted in other texts by Gudavičius as well. In late 1970–the early 1980s, this scientist released three articles on the formation of individual land ownership in Lith- uania and its development.696 Based on the conclusions gathered from these articles, in his fourth article Gudavičius raised the idea of an East–West civilizational divide, in the respect of which he made assessments of Lithuania’s situation.697 Whereas in his dissertation certain important meaningful accents remained incompletely disclosed, in his articles they are elaborated on much more clearly. This is most likely due to the different way they are presented in the text. In the texts in question, issues such as the features of the importance of the allod in the “European feudalism model”, the East–West divide and Lithuania’s position therein all “safely” coexist, as if they were placed in separate dishes on a table: in any of these given articles, Gudavičius focuses only on one particular issue, yet this “fragmented approach” does not stop the reader from independently making the logical links in meaning and creating the contours of a uniform theoretical model for themselves. During an interview, when asked whether he consciously distributed his conceptual insights across several texts in order to lessen the ideologically dangerous “weight” they carried, Gudavičius answered in the negative:

That was not my intention. […] In a complex sense, of course, I saw all of this. However in this case my approach was purely methodological: Alternatives to the Official Discourse in Research on Feudalism 213 a problem consists of several smaller questions, which is why they need to be examined in order.698

Looking at the late 1970s–early 1980s, Gudavičius highlighted another preventative measure which allowed him to raise and publicly discuss the allod issue:

I probably learnt this skill from Grekov. How he “strained the truth”. Only I “strained” in the other direction, leaving Russian Marxism behind. And most probably, the Soviet Union’s concept of regions served as a “loophole” for me. […] When I started to write about the allods, I had my suspicions and sensed that certain processes were underway in the science of history. And at precisely this time, a study about the regions and the development of feudalism in the regions came out. Cherepnin, Novoselcev and Pashuto all published articles as part of this study. Pashuto had written a work on the formation of the Lithuanian state. This study defined a number of particular characteristics of feudalism in separate regions. And this became a kind of support for me. I recall, how much earlier, at one inter-republic conference, as they were called in those days, it became clear to me that I would soon be forced to justify why I was accentuating a certain Lithuanian exceptionality. It was then that I discovered the answer, which I might have had in mind all along, only the time had not yet come to strictly define it. Then I said: “Russia is such a large country, that we need to talk about not a common feudalism that could be applied across the board, but a Rus- sian model”. Thus, Pashuto’s concept of regions served to support my argument. All the more so that it was Pashuto who had claimed that the Lithuanian state transformed into the GDL only when the Russian lands were incorporated. These are the kinds of moments one had to clutch at and exploit.699

What are the most important accents coming from this series of articles that facilitated the utilization of loopholes in the official discourse? In the first text, Gudavičius stated that “the individual ownership of arable land was universal and widespread amongst even the ordinary members of the barbaric Balt society already in the first half of the 14th century”.700 A model of the development of the allod is given next: “The encroachment took two directions: 1) the internal – into the communal Allmende and 2) the external (in close cooperation with the Allmende itself) – into the “free land”. But alongside all of 214 Aurimas Švedas this the titular right to territorial property of the people holding the ‘highest’ power developed, which at least nominally encompassed both communal land complexes (allods and Allmende) and ‘free land’”.701 This model allowed Gu- davičius to introduce the concepts of the “great” and the “minor” allod which designated different levels of the development of individual land ownership in Lithuania702 and expressed the chronological guidelines of the levels in this process: the “great” allod (of the highest members of society) was completely formed at the turn of the 12th–13th centuries, whilst the “minor” allod (of the common people) formed in the first half of the 13th century”.703 Meanwhile, “the encroachment of the great allod into the Allmende and ‘free land’ started in the first half of the 13th century. […] The minor allod’s encroachment into the Allmende and ‘free land’ commenced in around the mid-13th century”.704 This was one of the most important parts of Gudavičius’ concept: the scheme of the formation of land ownership – the allod – in Lithuania. How was this detail incorporated into the contours of the Soviet-era’s theoretical civilizational model?

Allodization = European Feudalism. The claims made in the article “The Evo- lution of the Balt Allod” are elaborated and take on a conceptual value when in the fourth text Gudavičius states that allodization was “geographically […] typical only to Europe, and chronologically – only to the early Middle Ages, or only to the “Germanic type” (i.e., European) community’s development”.705 Here we are presented with the “European feudalism” concept: “The allodization of community members is the provision and foundation for the genesis of European feudalism”.706 These insights are expanded in the third article where the allod becomes a definitive category of the East–West typological divergence: “In the second degree community of the Asiatic mode of production, individual land ownership was not any different, as the early Eastern state was the organizer of the labour process. Here, the monarch (i.e., the state) was both the nominal and the actual landowner – the “linking unity”. In other words, the core of actual land ownership relations in the Ancient East was “moving upwards”. Whereas in the Germanic (i.e., European) community, with the emergence of allodial households, the core of actual land ownership relations continued to “shift downwards”.707 By localizing Lithuania’s situation along the East–West civilization divide, Gudavičius also subtly points out Russia’s position: “The Frankish allod appeared at the same time as the state and did not lag very far behind it. In Russia the state was formed when the allod had not yet separated Alternatives to the Official Discourse in Research on Feudalism 215 at all. In Lithuania, the allod (or more precisely – odal-type land ownership) was ahead of the state”.708 The fundamental features of Gudavičius’ concept which became apparent in the mentioned articles became an integral part of his created depiction of Lithuanian and world history, and the prevailing discourse in Soviet-era Lith- uanian historiography at the time did not interfere in this process at all. Such a claim can be confirmed by yet another work by this scientist, “The Crusades in the Baltic Region and Lithuania in the 13th Century”,709 where insights on the processes of juncture and interaction of Lithuanian and West European types of society gradually come to light. As has already been mentioned, Gu- davičius presented a summary of these processes to the community of researchers of the past and the public only several decades later, at the turn of the 20th–21st centuries. This body of research leads us to the conclusion that in his texts written in the Soviet period, Gudavičius consistently tried to distance himself from the Stalinist historiographical model. Under the conditions of a dominant, repressive discourse, he tried to at least partially verbalize his own theoretical scheme which fundamentally highlighted the originality of European historical development and the factor of individual land ownership, which became a reference point for drawing a conceptual distinction between the East and the West. He was aided by a creative application of Marxism that signified a unique and independent researcher’s approach. Soviet-era barriers were unable to stop Gudavičius from piecing together a solid foundation (reading the same “classics’” texts which helped along adepts of the Stalinist model as well), on which he later, after 1990, formed a depiction of civilization in Lithuanian and world history that was expressed via the concept of main and peripheral paths in history,710 the civilizational model of the genesis and evolution of Eu- rope’s regions and of Central Europe,711 and of Lithuania as the most eastern country of Central Europe, as well as the theory of constant delays phenomenon,712 and Lithuania’s position in terms of the “shoved pack of cards” factor.713

217

CONCLUSIONS

1. What place and role in the Soviet state’s social system did the Communist Party allocate to the science of history? What were the institutions that formed the official historiography discourse that had to meet the Party elite’s expec- tations and ensure its vitality? When describing the place of research on the past in the Soviet socio-political structure, a strict distinction must be made between the fields of history as scientific work and history as an ideological activity. Research of the past as an ideological activity had a special status during the Soviet period. The importance afforded to historians depended on how obediently they agreed to explain, develop and illustrate with facts the theses formulated by the Party’s leadership concerning the past and present of Lithuanian history. The most important role of history during the Soviet period was determined by long-term and momentary political conjuctures. In the first case, history was used to “solve” the secrets of the world, its evolutionary plan and conclusions. In the second case, research on the past was an instrument which made it possible to “embellish” the present reality. In order to implement these objectives, historians had to engage in the falsification of Lithuanian history temporal and spatial models and the distortion of specific past events. The place and function of history as scientific work in the Soviet-era socio-political space was often considered as an unnecessary but unavoidable appendix to ideological tasks. The particular place and function of history in the Soviet period determined the formation of a unique institutional system that created the official discourse and ensured its vitality. The Central Committee of the LCP (B) played a defining role in the formation of this discourse. The most important aide of the Lithuanian Communist Party elite became the Institute of Party History and primary Party organizations of institutions where historians worked. In terms of science, the most important influence and responsibility came from the Institute of History. During the Soviet period, this institution comprised of the largest community of historians who produced the most scientific work. The scholars from this institution formed the core of the groups of authors who compiled the syntheses of the History of the Lithuanian SSR. Almost all the methodological tensions and critique campaigns aimed at historians during the Soviet period arose as a result of the behaviour and texts of the Insti- tute of History’s scholars. 218 Aurimas Švedas 2. What typifies the ideological nature and methodology of the general official discourse which created the past and the thought “masks” of historians who were engaged in its research? What were the ideological or methodological “errors” made by Soviet-era historians that commonly brought down the official discourse monolith? The specific place and function of research of the past in the Soviet period, as well as the impact of the distinctive “scale of power” on scientific and pedagogical institutions determined the “methodological devices” of historians at the time. Methodology was understood as taking a class/Party approach to a particular historical figure, phenomenon or process. This concept likened methodology to ideology and determined the following features of a Sovi- et-era historian’s work: a) the concepts of “theory” and “methodology” did not denote any scientific means of reconstructing the past, but rather related to the reckless exploitation of ideological postulates shielded by the universal Marxism-Leninism “label”; b) the subordination of methodology to ideology created the situation where Marxism was seen by Soviet-era historians as an unavoidable evil, and not as a theory capable of enriching one’s knowledge; c) this particular treatment of Marxist theory brought on an “internal emigration” in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography – the attempt to “re- treat” into researching early history issues or to limit oneself to an especially narrow field of questioning that was beyond the reach of the threats posed by theoretical generalizations; d) in order to avoid ideology and censorship, historians consistently engaged in self-censorship; e) in trying to lighten the censorship activity at various stages and levels of the review and editing process of a specific scientific text, the Soviet government forcibly implemented the principles of planned and collective work; f) due to the “monopoly on the truth” introduced by the Communist Party and the effect of various control mechanisms, the official discourse was often formed not via acceptablescien - tific polemic debates, but rather by waging a battle against specific methodological–ideological “errors”. The features of Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography listed above determined that a historiographical school was never formed within the Vilnius community of historians: only the beginnings of such a school can be said to have existed, itself hiding behind a “mask” of unified thought and speech schemes. Once the vigilant supervisors of the community of historians identified symptoms of independent thought in opposition to the official discourse present in the texts of a specific scientist, certain repressive mechanisms would come into force. As the waves of criticism would begin to roll in, the most Conclusions 219 common accusations aimed at historians would include: a) subservience to the West; b) objectivism; c) elevation of the feudal past (idealization of the past); d) following the “united stream”; e) nationalism. These accusations were rather abstract and their content could vary, depending on the circumstances. There was no clear system of indicators that could make it possible to assess whether a historical text was indeed “good” or “bad”. Everything depended on the will and imagination of the Party heavyweights in Vilnius or Moscow. 3. Which personalities, their conjunctural or non-conformist moves, challenges or conflicts can be considered influential on the development of Soviet-era historiography? Were the general political and socio-cultural development schemes of the Soviet period and the turning-points therein valid in the science of history in Lithuania in 1944–1985? The strongest ideological tensions and harshest criticism of historians arose during the formation of the official discourse (in the years 1944–1956), and this marked the advent of historians’ active efforts to oppose the forced implementation of the science model already tested in the USSR in Vilnius. The most distinctive opposition to the spread of the official discourse (which was conceived by Juozas Žiugžda) came in the form of: a) the positions maintained by the representatives of the pre-war generation of historians (Ignas Jonynas, Augustinas Janulaitis and Konstantinas Jablonskis); b) the positions of “ideologically-oriented individuals” (Povilas Pakarklis and Stasys Matulaitis); and c) the activities of the “outsider” in the science of history, the Communist Party functionary, Justas Paleckis. A determining factor in the formation of the official discourse became Pakarklis’ (director of the Institute of History in 1946–1948) rejection of the suggested empirical strategy for researching the past, a move which opened the way for the development of Žiugžda’s (director of the Institute of History in 1948–1970) openly conformist science policy and the appearance of carica- turized depictions of the past. Žiugžda proved to be particularly ardent in opposing the secondary historical discourse that existed at the time, one which had arisen from the stand-point and texts of Jablonskis, Jonynas and Janulaitis. Arguments arising from competing opinions in the public space, polemics, and criticism of the non-conformists at the highest Party forums in the late 1950s gave way to a relative peace once the community of historians realized that they were unable to change the “rules of the game” by direct confrontation with the Central Committee of the LCP (B) or the “supervisors” who were charged with enforcing its will. The Soviet version of Lithuania’s history was created and became entrenched in 1944–1956, any “rebels” were sufficiently intimidated and silenced, and the odd renewal in tension came about 220 Aurimas Švedas only as a result of the independent, lone and therefore challenging behaviour of Juozas Jurginis. So, for historians, the 20th Congress of the CPSU held in 1956 signalled not so much the beginning of the Thaw as the establishment of a certain status quo. These circumstances changed together with the system, offering historians increasingly more freedom to manoeuvre. The dynamics of the most important events of 1956 that were directly related to the community of historians (such as meetings of the Central Committee Bureau of the LCP (B), Vilnius University, the Institute of Party History, the Academy of Sciences general assembly) reveals that the leaders of the LCP (B) effectively halted changes to the situation of history as a science, and unambiguously supported Žiugžda, writing-off scientists who tried to openly oppose him to the peripheries of bourgeois nationalism. 4. What were the most important features of the temporal and spatial models used in syntheses of Lithuanian history compiled during the Soviet period? To what extent were these models based on a logical foundation, consistent, or adequate expressions of the details of the Lithuanian nation’s past? The features of and changes that the Soviet-era Lithuanian historiographical official discourse underwent are best demonstrated by the syntheses of Lithuanian history that were compiled at the time. When analyzing the general depictions of Lithuanian history in terms of temporal and spatial models, it becomes apparent that the facades of these socio-economic formation theories hid mechanical and ideological devices that were not backed by factual material. The accents in the history of Lithuanian statehood in the Soviet periodization were often independent, “exogenous” elements that were difficult to integrate into the depiction of socio-economic processes. The spatial model of Lithuanian history was deformed by the Great Russian chauvinist ideology, removing the Lithuanian- and Europe-centric elements created during the inter-war period. Lithuania’s role as a historical actor or its typological closeness to Western civilization was postulated only through the deliberation of socio-cultural phenomena and processes. The shifts that took place during the Soviet period in Lithuanian historiography (via the spread of “heresies” and emergence of “erosion” of the unified discourse) were hardly expressed in the syntheses released at the time. De- spite this, some figures managed to provide alternatives. Jurginis offered the first alternative to the periodization model established in the official discourse. His attempt to elevate statehood as a determining factor in the periodization of Lithuanian history was obviously related to the work of Lithuania’s pre- war historians. As a result, Jurginis’ periodization model was strictly rejected. The second attempt to go beyond the “boundary markers” of socio-economic Conclusions 221 formations can be seen in the model of Lithuania’s cultural epochs. The depiction of the spread of the Baroque epoch in the early 17th to the first third of the 18th century conceived by Ingė Lukšaitė is important in this regard. However, even it was “drowned out” in the general periodization scheme applied in Lithuania’s Cultural History, contrasting it with the depiction of the synchronic Renaissance concept. 5. Were there attempts at creatively applying the ideas of Marx and Engels in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography? “Chipping away” at the Soviet-era Lithuanian historiographical official discourse or attempts at creatively applying Marxist theory can primarily be seen in research on feudal relations, where subtle hints and incompletely developed theoretical ideas were used to contradict the Moscow-centric model in terms of insights on whether socio-economic processes in Lithuania were identical to those that took place in Western Europe. Only a few such attempts were actually made as the absolute majority of historians at the time identified Marxism with its caricatural Soviet version. The historians who did try to creatively apply Marxist theory took the same risks as those who chose “internal emigration”. This kind of relationship with Marxism provoked the scepticism of colleagues loyal to historism methodology and Lithuanian-centric approaches, and at the same time raised the threat of attracting censors’ disapproval. In research on the feudal period, only the single attempts by Ju- rginis and Gudavičius to oppose official schemes have been noted. In this -re spect, the work by Jurginis The Rise of Serfdom in Lithuania and the series of four articles published by Gudavičius in the late 1970s–early 1980s typify this silent rebellion. These texts contain virtuosi abilities at applying Marxist theory which allowed these historians to correct the postulates of the Lenin- ist-Stalinist model concerning the position of Lithuania along the West Eu- ropean–Russian divide.

EPILOGUE A Glance at Post-Soviet Lithuanian Historiography 224 Aurimas Švedas Marxists have formulated a thesis in which they claim that understanding of the past depends on the present. This at first glance paradoxical idea reveals its potential when we try to at least briefly compare two antipodes – Soviet and post-Soviet Lithuanian historiography. By no means does this thought exercise claim to serve as comprehensive research, rather, it can help better understand what was and (more importantly) what was not analyzed in the book In the Captivity of the Matrix on the Lithuanian historiographical tradition that was formed during the Soviet period. The reinstatement of statehood did not become, to paraphrase Francis Fukuyama’s metaphor, a ticket to “the end of history” for the Lithuanian nation. March 11, 1990 marked the beginning of a qualitatively new, dynamically changing situation, which proved to be a difficult challenge for society and the academic community just entering the post-Soviet reality. It was precisely this dynamic situation, which meant that Lithuanian society experienced (and continues to feel the effects of) several processes simultaneously – the influences of re-nationalization, de-sovietization, Europeanization, globalization and post-modernization. These latter processes are having a marked impact on the forms and content of post-1990 Lithuanian historiography as well. During the revival years and the first decade of Lithuania’s independence, distinctly felt efforts were made to reanimate the great historical narrative of the inter-war period. These efforts were demonstrated as much by the larger part of society as by the political elite of the time, who comprised the core of the Sąjūdis movement and fundamentally contributed to the reinstatement of Lithuania’s statehood. At this time, society turned to the creative legacy of inter-war historians, many books were re-released and historical figures, events and phenomena that had been promoted by the “ploughmen of history” yet ignored by the “warrior historians” were returned to the nation’s historical memory. A paradigm work that expressed the most important characteristics of this great narrative would have to be The History of Lithuania edited by Adolfas Šapoka, which was re-released four times in 1988–1990, reaching a total of 100,000 to 155,000 copies in circulation. Depictions of the Lithuanian nation as living in a fortress standing on the crossroads between the West and the East, constantly defending and reinforc- ing its statehood, yet later – for various reasons – losing it, before again “mirac- ulously” regaining it, as the inter-war synthesis of Lithuanian history as well as some other texts by historians from this era suggested, carried out the role of a universal meaningful and emotional scheme in the last decade of the 20th century, explaining the essential features of the Lithuanian nation’s existence. A Glance at Post-Soviet Lithuanian Historiography 225 The latter situation was reflected in post-Soviet Lithuanian historiography too – the first task at hand being the removal of “white stains” that had appeared during the Soviet period: the political history of the GDL became the object of attentive analysis, as did the social political movements of the 19th and 20th centuries in Lithuania, the history of the inter-war period of statehood and its loss; the Soviet repressions enacted on the Lithuanian nation and its armed resistance (the partisan war) to the Soviet occupation. The “white historical stains” were removed in the first decade of Lithuania’s independence using the methodology created by the inter-war historians. Meanwhile research related to the Soviet period was mostly carried out based on totalitarian paradigmal theoretical and methodological instruments created in the West. The de-sovietization process under way for more than two decades has had a fundamental influence on the situation of humanities studies in Lithu- ania, whereas Lithuanian historiography has notably contributed to the “in- ventorization of the recent past”, helping society create different strategies for its relationship with the Soviet period. Thanks to these efforts, different types of individual and public relationships with the Soviet system have been modelled, at the same time denoting possible behaviour strategies under the conditions of occupation and the outcomes they produce. In its research of the Soviet period, Lithuanian historiography has dedicated most attention to examining three behaviour modes: 1) the marginal “with us or against us” mode (whose followers are convinced that the drama of a person’s or the social environment’s choice under occupation was expressed in the binary opposition of either resistance or adaptation; 2) the pessimistic (according to the scientists who took this stance, society and specific individuals existed between the tensions inherent in making the decision to oppose or to adapt and collaborate with the Soviet system, however a majority chose the path of collaboration); and 3) the relatively optimistic (a larger part of Lithuanian society in this regard can be attributed to the category of “the adapters”, adding that the latter behaviour model was used not to submit to a passive, grey existence, but in the name of protecting the nation’s vitality). Whilst there are many more analogous attempts to define the various relationships of individuals and society with the Soviet system in contemporary Lithuanian historiography, their theoretical complexity and fluency differ rather fundamentally. One thing is obvious – looking back at the Soviet period, Lithuanian historiography did make some significant achievements in helping society create various relationship strategies with its recent and painful past. However in the years to come, Lithuanian historiography shall have to face a new challenge – to create a distance from attempts to turn the Soviet-era 226 Aurimas Švedas field of research into a sphere of history politics; to move on from researching separate subjects and processes towards the modelling of Soviet-era society and culture and its transformation processes; to embark on comparative research; and to step into the field of transitology, observing the Soviet era’s transformation into a post-Soviet existence. The metaphor formulated by Czech intellectual Milan Kundera about Cen- tral Europe as having been “kidnapped from the West” rather accurately demonstrates the features of Lithuania’s, as “one piece of the mosaic”, gravi- tation towards Western Europe after March 11, 1990: firstly, nurturing careful hopes about “returning to Europe”; from 1994 – “knocking on Europe’s door” determined by a consensus of the socio-political elite and society; after 2000 – a gradual approach to Brussels, the new centre of attraction, and carefully “doing our homework” in preparation for membership of the European Union; having joined the privileged geopolitical “club” there are constant efforts to come to terms with the latter’s internal rules as well as attempts to exploit the privileges afforded by membership of the EU. The Vilnius-based political elite’s reactions to the challenges arising from Lithuania’s “superficial Europeaniza- tion” regularly receive criticism from various representatives of the academic and cultural elite, at the same time proposing a thesis on the existence of certain depictions of Lithuania in Europe and Europe in Lithuania in the reflexions of some Lithuanian intellectuals or their groups. On the other hand, just how conceptual or universal are these latter depictions, and are they capable of surviving beyond the boundaries of the intellectual laboratory, also – are they necessary for Lithuanian society, can they impact on the latter’s consciousness or “coming of age” under the conditions of independence? It is difficult to give an unambiguous answer to this question without special research in the sphere of the history of ideas. Incidentally, the ideas of Vil- nius University professor, Edvardas Gudavičius, and their spread in the public space and history politics sphere meet all the above-mentioned criteria. He was a scientist who brought in a fundamental revolution in post-Soviet Lith- uanian historiography and created a unique civilization concept in terms of Lithuanian and world history. The latter ideas that were matured during the Soviet period as a “latently operating paradigm” post 1990 became an original depiction of world and Lithuanian history, which was successfully popular- ized having harnessed, as one Lithuanian publicist called it, “the magical influence of television”. In the years 1993–2004, the Lithuanian national television broadcaster showed a series of history programmes called “Būtovės slėpiniai” (Secrets of History; among the creators of this series was Gudavičius and his student and promoter of ideas, Bumblauskas), which received quite a bit of A Glance at Post-Soviet Lithuanian Historiography 227 interest from Lithuanian society, and prompted a consolidation of ideas, encouraging self-reflexion. Gudavičius created a depiction of Lithuanian history as a constant, thousand-year-long effort to adapt to Western Europe. In this depiction, we can grasp not just the Lithuanian nation’s drama of trying to protect its statehood and overcome the civilizational lag caused by geopolitical conditions, but can also appreciate the fundamentally positive impact of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania (GDL) as the eastern-most country in Central Europe, performing the roles of a “civilizational outpost” and “catalyzer” in the formation of the Ukrainian and Belarusian nations. Having voiced these ideas, at the turn of the 20th–21st centuries, Gudavičius embarked on a process to change the dominant depictions existing in Lithuanian history, and in place of the “seized fortress” model (typical of many post-Soviet societies) he proposed the Lith- uanian nation’s path towards Europe and a depiction of constant learning of how to be European. Of late, Lithuanian historiography has featured some creative receptions of Gudavičius’ ideas, which at the same time suggest that the Soviet-era’s “latently operating paradigm” in the 21st century became the basis for the formation of a unique school of historiography. Desovietization created the conditions for the process of Europeanization, and in turn the latter accelerated technological-economic, cultural-religious and political-ethnic globalization. These processes which reached Lithua- nia after 1990 globalized Lithuanian society and culture, drawing them into Western civilization’s socio-cultural, intellectual movements. In other words, Lithuania’s entrance into the space of spreading global processes and the qualitative characteristics of the globalizing impact of the latter processes allows us to reach a conclusion on Lithuanian society’s and its elite’s great passive – “objective” – relationship with the phenomena listed above. Regardless of the above-mentioned trends, efforts were made in the Lithu- anian humanities and historiography tradition to react to the challenges posed by globalization, both in terms of naming those aspects of Lithuanian culture that had to be fostered and protected having found ourselves on the global highway, and by teaching society to extract benefit from the ideas created by globalization and value exchange processes. The latter position which relates to the modern world as a cultural polylogue, into which even the Lithuanian nation can now become immersed, has been continually promoted by writer and cultural history researcher, Yale University professor, Tomas Venclova. Having already in the Soviet period distinguished himself from the Vilnius cultural-academic milieu with his goal of going further than the efforts of 228 Aurimas Švedas nurturing national values permitted, following a sharp conflict with the political-Party nomenklatura of the time, in 1977 he left for the United States where Venclova made a conscious decision to choose the path of a global Lithuanian, rather than an exile forced to flee his homeland. Remaining to live and work in the United States after the re-instatement of Lithuania’s independence, in his published material, lectures and academic studies, this public intellectual continually voices insights and assessments which have the effect of bringing down thinking and emotional stereotypes that have become entrenched in Lithuanian society’s way of thinking. In this context, of particular importance is Tomas Venclova’s effort to show the history of Lithuania and its capital, Vilnius, as a result of the co-existence and creative interaction of different nationalities, cultures and confessions. In this way he offers the Lithuanian nation the possibility of taking a multi-perspective glance at its past, based on dialogue with Poles, Russians, Germans and Jews. The ideas voiced by Venclova became important guidelines for those creators of contemporary Lithuanian historiography who are trying to see Lithu- ania in the context of European history and record the markers of European civilization in Lithuanian history; who are undertaking comparative research within the GDL, Central European, Baltic countries or Soviet/post-Soviet space; who are drafting Lithuanian world history texts; and who are attempting to solve the secrets of Litvak history. Lithuanian historiography has indeed been quite productive in trying to creatively exploit the challenges and opportunities of globalization, however, in the near future the academic community can expect some major tasks. Lithuania’s historians, whilst learning to look at Europe and the world from the perspective of Vilnius, have yet to write the history of Poland, Belarus, Ukraine or the GDL region, and this is a task of primary importance so that Lithuanian historiography could merge into the global academic polylogue and not focus just on the events taking place in its own yard. Used for the first time in 1870, the adjective “postmodern”, later “tried on” painting, architecture, literature and even politics, became embedded in the West’s academic discourse and art world in the 1970s, heralding the end of meta-narration and forming the approach that postmodern phenomena become widespread where there is a variety of opinions and types of activities. These intellectual and cultural transformations, having fundamentally shaped the face of late 20th-century Western culture and society, reached Lithuania in 1990, when the desovietization, Europeanization and globalization processes spiral had just barely been put into motion, and rather quickly revealed itself in the form of eye-catching “fashionable” phenomena. A Glance at Post-Soviet Lithuanian Historiography 229 We could say that Lithuanian society and the community of historians came across postmodern translations of depictions of the past firstly via Lith- uanian writers. The novel by Marius Ivaškevičius written in 2002,Žali [The Green], left the impression of an exploded bomb on Lithuanian society. This effect was provoked by the postmodern writer by selecting General Jonas Že- maitis – Vytautas, the leader of Lithuania’s liberation movement’s struggles, as the prototype for the novel’s (anti)hero, a figure who was included in the pantheon of the Lithuanian nation’s national heroes. The writer’s decision to give Lithuanians the opportunity to understand how Žemaitis and the partisans were seen by the others – for example, a KGB commander, proved to be a real challenge for Lithuanian society, as most found the latter depiction unacceptable or offensive. As was mentioned before,Žali created one of the greatest scandals related to a book’s reflexion in the history of independent Lithuania. The efforts of Ivaškevičius to ironically deconstruct specific episodes in Lithuanian history in his works, to demythologize the heroes of the great Lithuanian narratives, to critically re-think the condition of today’s Lithua- nian nation and state as well as society’s reaction to his actions, allow us to propose the thesis that the successful application of a postmodern approach by certain representatives of the Lithuanian cultural elite is starting to carry out an important role in the self-identification process of Lithuanian society in the 21st century. Lithuanian historiography felt the impact of postmodernism not only via the deconstruction of certain ideas or ideologemes, but also in terms of theoretical and methodological influences. In the developing historiographical tradition of the 21st century, we can spot the decision by some scientists to reject the analysis of all-encompassing, structural processes and at the same time broaching micro-history or hitherto considered “unimportant” or “marginal” subjects (such as prostitution, beggars and criminals); a turning away from “hard” analytical methods to focusing on “soft” hermeneutic methods; replacement of the argumentative historiographical style for expressive narrative accounts; and marking history as a “creative work”, with the concept of the historian as a scientist receding into the background. Therefore, we could say that post-Soviet Lithuanian historiography is learning to react to the challenges of the time and is maintaining a dialogue with society, which itself in the academic community is more and more often understood not just as a consumer of historians’ products, but as a shaper of specific tasks for the community of researchers of the past, at the same time contributing to the reinterpretation of history. A hallmark of the Lithuanian 230 Aurimas Švedas historians’ community’s efforts to create an active dialogue both with representatives of the other disciplines as with society in general, would have to be the tradition established in the 21st century of Lithuanian historians’ congresses, dedicated to thinking and talking over trends in the science of history. These trends are well reflected in the main themes formed by the organizers of these congresses. The theme of the congress held in Vilnius on September 15–17, 2005 was “Lithuanian historiography, cultural memory and a common Europe”; the theme for the second congress held this time in Klaipėda on Sep- tember 10–12, 2009 was “Between tradition and new challenges: Lithuanian history at the start of the New Millennium”; and on September 26–29, 2013 the third congress in Šiauliai had the theme “From political history towards history politics?” One of the most fruitful examples of cooperation between the state, society and Lithuanian historians in the Independence era would have to be the realization of a long-term research and publication program dedicated to mark the millennium of Lithuania’s name in historical sources (1009–2009). We could say that during the course of Lithuania’s millenium program, the organizers of which declared the goals of “revitalizing and strengthening Lithuanian society’s historical and civil consciousness”, fundamental shifts took place in the spheres of Lithuanian studies and historiography that were determined by the scientific research and publication projects (the list of the program’s publications consists of almost 400 significant scientific positions) coming under its title, which in themselves formed and strengthened the variety of opinions and inter-competition amongst the academic elite and encouraged society to engage in historical autoreflexion. In order to describe the details of post-Soviet Lithuanian historiography, three phenomena need to be identified which reveal how the 21st century’s community of researchers of the past differs from historians from the inter-war and Soviet periods:

1. Contemporary Lithuanian historiography is being created by scientists working amid an environment of relative institutional variety, contributing to the appearance of opinion pluralization (institutions where historical research is conducted include the Lithuanian Institute of History, Vilnius University, Vytautas Magnus University in Kaunas, the Educology University of Lithua- nia, Šiauliai University, Klaipėda University, Mykolas Romeris University and the Lithuanian Culture Research Institute); 2. In post-Soviet Lithuanian historiographical research, an ever more important role is played by academic projects that are financed by specific grants A Glance at Post-Soviet Lithuanian Historiography 231 from the Lithuanian state or the European Union (in this context, the significance of the Research Council of Lithuania is of particular note, as the institution responsible for the latter system); 3. The form and content of Lithuanian historiography is critically influenced by the academic schools that were formed at the turn of the 20th–21st centuries, the consolidation of which took place and continues to take place on the basis of problem-orientation (study of the same issues), figures, institutions, and ideas-ideologies.

The above-mentioned circumstances suggest that in the 21st century, a process of change within the Lithuanian community of historians and historiography is intensively underway, the results of which are already visible in terms of content and form in innovative academic syntheses, monographs and articles.

233

ENDNOTES

1 These texts were written following a history development analysis and assessment method created in Moscow. See a typical example: Nechkina, 1966; 1985. Some typical examples of Soviet-era Lithuanian historiographical autoreflexion: Gaigalaitė, 1961; Vaitkevičius, 1980. 2 Some original approaches to the historiography of the time came in the form of individual speeches. Some are kept in archives to this day and have still not been brought into broad circulation. A conceptual attempt at pondering on the Soviet-era historiography phenomenon, its achievements and weak-points would be the speech by Juozas Jurginis “The science of history in Lithuania in the post-October period”, read at the general meeting of the Academy of Sciences Social Sciences Department on June 28, 1967 (LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 1073; 24–39). An interesting look at the situation of Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography also comes to us from the Reform Movement Initiative Group of Vilnius University’s Faculty of History in its reform project for educating new history specialists, presented in 1988: VUA, C. R-856, In. 24, File 835; 28–33. 3 Precise and non-ambiguous orientation markers designed to help historians protect themselves from various “heresies” in the Soviet period were few and far between. Some exceptions are: Jarmalavičius, 1973; Laurinaitis, 1976. For more on this paradoxical situation, see pp. 52, 129–139. 4 Probably the most consistent critic of the evils of Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography in the public arena at the time was Jurginis: Jurginis, 1964; Jurginis, 1965a; Jurginis, 1967a; Jurginis, 1974. For more on the activities of this historian, see pp. 52; 129–139. 5 Reviews of research dedicated to one particular epoch were popular in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography. Some examples are: Merkys, 1974; Jučas, 1970. 6 The general features of the communication that took place between the historian communities in Soviet Lithuania and in diaspora are discussed here: Ragauskas, 1997. 7 The most conceptual critical approach to have come from the diaspora community: Ivinskis, 1957a; Ivinskis, 1957b. 8 Besides demonstrating their “goodwill” in regards to Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography, scientists did not shy away from making harsh critical and polemic comments. Some typical examples: Ivinskis, 1964; Mačiuika, 1982. 9 The most conceptual texts written in independent Lithuania on Soviet-era historiography are: Bumblauskas, 1999a; Bumblauskas, 1999b. And the texts by Egidijus Aleksandravičius: Alek- sandravičius, 2000; Aleksandravičius, Kulakauskas 2001. 10 Ragauskas, 1995; Ragauskas, 2002; Selenis, 2010; Vyšniauskas, 2010; Rudokas, 2011. 11 So far, four Lithuanian historians have published their memories about the Soviet era and the state of historiography at the time: Gaigalaitė, 2002; Jučas, 2004; Eidintas, 2008; Merkys, 2009. As part of his research, the author of this book used the “oral history” method to interview the most well known Lithuanian historians and humanities scientists from the Soviet period. The results of this research have been published as follows: Švedas, 2006a; Švedas, 2007a; Šve- das, 2007b; Švedas, 2008a; Švedas, 2008b; Švedas, 2009a; Švedas, 2009b; Švedas, 2010. One interview with a renowned Soviet-era historian, Rimas Jasas, has been recorded and released in print by Valdemaras Klumbys: Jasas, 2003. In this context, also worth mentioning is an exceptional source – the journals of Lithua- nian literature researcher Vytautas Kubilius – which gives an especially open analysis of the situation of Soviet-era humanities specialists: Kubilius, 2006; Kubilius, 2007. 234 Aurimas Švedas

12 Bumblauskas and Šepetys, 1999c. 13 Misiūnas and Taagepera, 1992; Truska, 1995; Anušauskas, 2005; Butrimas, Janonienė and Račiūnaitė, 2009, 559–625; Eidintas, Bumblauskas, Kulakauskas and Tamošaitis, 2012, 189–234. 14 For a general discussion on the changes of the 1950s, see: Puzinavičius, 1996; Streikus, 1996. Research on the “thawing” processes in Lithuanian literature: Kubilius, 1996, 508–521; Sprindytė, 1996; Baliutytė, 2002. Reflexion and research on the spread of modernist art programs in Lithuanian art, literature and architecture: Lubytė, 1997; Kmita, 2009; Baliutytė and Mitaitė (ed.), 2011; Drėmaitė, Petrulis and Tutlytė, 2012. 15 Tininis, 1994; Tininis, 1995; Antanaitis, 1998; Grybkauskas, 2011; Ivanauskas, 2011a. 16 Klumbys, 2009; Šukys, 2012. See also: Zalatorius, 1996; Baužienė–Blažytė, 2002; Švedas, 2011a; Ivanauskas, 2011b. 17 The most significant texts that discuss the position of the individual and society under occupation are: Girnius, 1996; Štromas, 2001; Putinaitė, 2007; Klumbys, 2009. Also see: Jurkutė and Šepetys, 2011. 18 Vaiseta, 2012; Davoliūtė, 2013. 19 Kavaliauskaitė and Ramonaitė (eds.), 2011. Also see: Ramonaitė, 2011. 20 The possibilities and limitations of Lithuanian historiography in this field are best represented in two collections of articles: Nikžentaitis, 2011; Nikžentaitis, 2013. 21 Davoliūtė and Balkelis, 2012. 22 Streikus, 2005; Streikus, 2007; Švedas, 2011b. 23 Vilniaus universiteto istorija 1579–1994, 1994, 286–296; Pšibilskis, 1994; Stašaitis, 1995; Gaižutis, 2005; Pšibilskis, 2009, 765 – 903. Another equally important book that reveals how the “thawing” and reactionary processes influenced Lithuanian studies at Vilnius University is: Viliūnas, 2002. 24 Čepaitienė, 2005. 25 An exemplary study of this line of questioning in Lithuanian historiography is: Safronovas, 2011. 26 Bumblauskas, 2005; Bumblauskas, 2009; Staliūnas, 2008; Mačiulis, Petrauskas and Staliūnas, 2012. 27 Putinaitė, 2004. 28 Kemp, 1999. 29 See: a successful attempt at discussing the symbiosis of nationalist and communist ideologies: Laurinavičius, 2013. 30 Afanasjev, 1996. 31 Sidorova, 1997. 32 For a more detailed discussion of Jurij Afanasjev’s article “The Phenomenon of Soviet Histo- riography”, see p. 25. 33 One of the latest works: Koposov, 2011. 34 Lindner, 2003. 35 See, for example: Dziarnovich, 2009; Dziarnovich, 2011. 36 Masliichuk and Portnov, 2012. Andryi Portnov’s book rates a separate mention: Portnov, 2011. Other texts important to the problem being discussed: Grabovich, 1997a; Grabovich, 1997b. 37 Yekelchyk, 2004. 38 Ivanovs, 2005. Also see a discussion by the same author of the most widespread features of Soviet Latvian historiography: Ivanovs, 2003. 39 Poland is made distinct from the rest of the socialist bloc consciously, but for more on the experiences of other Soviet bloc country historians, see: Górny, 2007. Important insights on the Endnotes 235

relationship between East European historians and other humanities scientists with Soviet Marxism have also been formulated by: Kołakowski, 1970. 40 Zalejko, 1993. 41 Stobiecki, 1993; Stobiecki, 2007; Grabski, 1992. 42 Wierzbicki, 2004. 43 As an exception we could mention theory-based articles written by Lithuanians though not in Lithuanian, such as this one: Krapauskas, 1992. 44 Western Sovietology studies receive a great degree of attention from Lithuanian historians, e.g.: Marcinkevičienė, 2005. 45 See: Heer, 1971; Mazour, 1971; Baron and Heer, 1977. 46 See: Markwick, 2001. 47 See, for e.g.: Sherlock, 2007; Gill, 2011. 48 Bumblauskas, 1999b, 102. 49 For more details, see: Rüsen, 1993, 203–219. 50 For more on this, see: Kuhn, 1996. 51 Zalejko, 1993, 129. 52 Ibid. 53 Ibid., 130. 54 The most conceptual inter-war Lithuanian historiographical study is by Aurelijus Gieda: Gieda, 2013. Other important texts: Bumblauskas, 2007; Lasinskas, 2004; Selenis, 2007. 55 For more on this, see: Mačiulis, 2005. 56 Selenis, 2007, 26. 57 A typical example: Jakštas, 1934. 58 For more on the works of Z. Ivinskis and their value in Lithuanian historiography, see: Bum- blauskas, 1992; Bumblauskas, 1995; Bumblauskas, 1997. 59 Šapoka, 1932. 60 Gieda, 2013, 328; Nikžentaitis, 2002. 61 Ivinskis, 1937. 62 Šapoka, 1936. 63 For more on the process of the synthesis’ preparation, see: Lasinskas, 2003. 64 The most informative text on this synthesis of Lithuania’s history is by Aurelijus Gieda: Gieda, 2007. 65 Šapoka, 1950. 66 Šapoka, 1981. 67 Šapoka, 1990, V. 68 Tyla, 1996, 17. 69 Gieda, 2013, 380–383. 70 This was how Stanislovas Tarvydas, scientific secretary of the Institute of Geology and Ge- ography, “instructed” his colleagues during a session of the LSSR Academy of Sciences Gen- eral Assembly that took place on January 13, 1948: Lithuanian Central State Archives (LSCA), C. R-1001, In. 2, File 57; 54. This quote gives a good idea of the field of mental-value premises, strictly separating the world based on “us” and “them”, or “black” and “white”, in which the contours of the community of historians and the official discourse crystallized. 71 See: Юрий Афанасьев, „Феномен советской историографии“, in: Afanasjev, 1996, 7–41. 72 Ibid., 11. 73 See: Draft of Jurginis’ speech at the event marking the 70th birthday of Juozas Žiugždas: Lith- uanian Archives of Literature and Art (LALA), C. 205, In. 1, File 215; 7. 74 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 666; 9–10. 236 Aurimas Švedas

75 Ibid., 14. 76 Ibid., 10. 77 Lithuanian Special Archives (LSA), C. 1771, In. 191, File 4; 288. The fact that historians remained on the sidelines in the resolution of the most important utilitarian tasks to be formed by scientists in the Soviet state is clearly illustrated in the line of work carried out by commissions from Moscow that regularly visited the LSSR Academy of Sciences. Whereas they paid particularly close attention to how separate institutes within the Academy benefited the resolution of various agricultural, technological or economic issues, at the Institute of History “supervisors” from the empire’s centre usually checked only the “ideological climate” and restricted themselves to comments of a general nature. 78 “15) Consistent patterns in the state and development of the law, 16) History of Socialism and the building of Communism, 17) Historical consistencies of the development of sociey and changes in socio-economic forms, 18) History of the world’s culture, history of society-orientated thought” (LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 1304; 35–36, 40). 79 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 1738; 35. 80 For more on the concept of science on the plane of Bolshevik ideology, see: Stobiecki, 1998. 81 Quotes about the duties of researchers of science, the intelligentsia and the past to the Soviet state and the Communist Party taken from texts that were mass-released in Lithuania during the Soviet period. 82 Grabski, 1992, 23. 83 See: Stobiecki, 1998, 71. 84 Furet, 1999, ix. 85 Having studied how members of the inter-war community of Lithuania’s historians percieved and identified themselves in public discourse (articles, reviews) and in the private space (in epistolary), it was found that they often called themselves and eachother ploughmen of the fields of Lithuania’s history, attempting to “open up a new furrow of research”, i.e., to discover as yet unknown historical facts and elaborate on them in a cause–effect sequence. 86 These examples of the militaristic rhetoric that had infused the everyday work of historians were taken from: meeting minutes of the Institute of History Science Board, 1968 (LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 259; 6); the Vilnius University Board, October 31, 1952 (Vilnius University Archive (VUA), C. R-856, In. 2, File 135; 113); Institute of History Science Board, February 15, 1950 (LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 34; 8) and the text of a report from the Academy of Sciences general assembly, July 3, 1980 to the CC LCP (LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 1699; 100). For more on the historian-as-soldier identity and its expression in the Soviet-era public space, see: Šve- das, 2006b. 87 Švedas, 2006a, 545. 88 Švedas, 2008b, 201–202. 89 LSA, C. 16895, In. 2, File 73; 22. 90 Ibid., File 226; 40. 91 That was how the primary tasks of the community of historians were described by the director of the Institute of History Bronius Vaitkevičius during a party activists’ meeting on March 13, 1973: LSA, C. 1771, In. 248, File 132; 76. 92 The first types of falsifications of moments in Lithuania’s history that were applied during the course of the formation of Soviet science are revealed in Žiugžda’s behaviour model and the analysis of the resulting discourse (see pp. 62–73). 93 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 1541; 82. 94 Zalejko, 1993, 7. 95 Afanasjev, 1996, 25. Endnotes 237

96 See: Romas Šarmaitis’ journal of 1975–1986, LSA, C. 17635, In. 1, File 26; 123 v. 97 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 61; 102. 98 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 344; 44. 99 Švedas, 2010, 408–409. 100 Matulis, 1999b, 352. 101 Interview with Vanda Kašauskienė on December 16, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 102 The competency of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Institute of Party History and the Central Committee of the CPSU Marxism-Leninism Institute during the Soviet period was accurately described by a former scientist of the latter institute Česlovas Bauža: Minutes from a meeting of the History of the Parties Department of the Institute of History on March 13, 1991. LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 698; 5. For more on relations with the Central Committee of the LCP (B), the limits of the Institute’s authority and responsibilities, see: Partijos istorijos institutas prie Lietuvos KP CK, 1973. 103 Švedas, 2010, 405. This information from Jegelevičius can be confirmed in documents. On February 7, 1956 during a staff meeting of the Institute of Party History, it was stated that the head of the library’s special collections P. Ševelovičiūtė was too diligent in hiding data about the literature at the Institute from interested parties: LSA, C. 3377, In. 17, File 9; 19–21. 104 Such were the resounding epithets used to desribe the Vilnius State Pedagogical Institute’s Party Organization in 1985. See: Stašaitis, 1995, 51. 105 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 4; 17. 106 In 1945 the Lithuanian Institute of History had two branches and 27 personnel (12 people directly involved in scientific activity). By 1985 the Institute of History had seven departments: History of Feudalism, History of Capitalism, History of Socialist Society, Archaeology, Eth- nography, Art History, History of Science and Technology. This institution had 78 personnel, of which eight had a doctoral degree in science and 33 were science candidates. 107 Švedas, 2010, 412. On this occasion, the interviewee had in mind the commemoration of 400 years since the establishment of Vilnius University that was celebrated in 1979. This date and the social-cultural initiatives to mark the celebration became a particularly important motiva- tor for self-reflexion among the Lithuanian public, bringing on feelings of national self-worth, and contributed significantly to the process of national identity preservation under occupation. 108 Stenograph of a speech by Juozas Žiugžda on April 10, 1959 at the LSSR Academy of Sciences general assembly, LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 555; 68. 109 See: Stenograph of an announcement made by Prof. Robertas Žiugžda of the Faculty of His- tory on December 20, 1971 at a general meeting of the Department of History, VUA, C. R-856, In. 24, File 52; 15. 110 For more on this, refer to discussions on “Improvement of communist education work in educational courses” during a general meeting of the Department of History on February 28, 1977: VUA, C. R-856, In. 24, File 165; 34–38. 111 Comprehensive information about the forms of cooperation between the Institute of History and higher education schools in the LSSR is given in the notice “On strengthening creative relations between the Institute of History and the republic’s higher education schools” presented to the Presidium of the LSSR Academy of Sciences on April 5, 1979, LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 482; 17–19; information sent to the Social sciences branch of the LSSR Academy of Sciences on March 14, 1986 “On cooperation with higher schools of education”, LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 624; 33. 112 Gaigalaitė, 2002, 66. 113 In 1945, upon request of the LSSR government, the People’s Commissariat for State Security (NKGB) intently checked the biographies of Augustinas Janulaitis and Ignas Jonynas. “Com- promising material” was discovered about Janulaitis: Grunskis, 1991, 121. There were already 238 Aurimas Švedas

plans under way to seize this historian, but they were abandoned only after it was revealed that he was terminally ill (Biliūnienė-Matjošaitienė. and Lukšienė, 2004, 291, 455; Lukšaitė, 1992, 243). The constant sense of being monitored by security organs is also mentioned in au- tobiographies: Dundulis, 1996, 21. 114 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 39; 59. 115 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 62; 20. 116 LSSR Academy of Sciences Party Committee report for 1974–1975, LSA, C. 1233, In. 2, File 32; 140. 117 When asked “which representatives of the humanities or social science disciplines felt more freedom or were not monitored as closely by government organs and had the opportunity to say more in their texts”, Lithuanian scientists, experienced in the particularities of the humanities discourse, named linguistics and archaeology most often during interviews. 118 For more on Justas Paleckis’ critique campaign and the reasons behind it, see pp. 97–104. 119 The Institute of History’s research study plans and reports illustrate different Party decrees and historians’ actions in trying to apply them. It is constantly stressed that the activities of the Institute’s researchers are mostly determined by resolutions from the “historic” LCP (B) and CPSU congresses or plenums. Historians from other institutions were also obliged to show reverence to these party resolutions as well. The University’s and Pedagogical Institute’s historians regularly organized ritualized meetings where they discussed political and ideological matters in the country. Sometimes, these discussions became openly comical. For example, on March 16, 1981, members from the Pedagogical Institute’s Department of World History debated the following issue “Application of material from the 26th Congress of the CPSU in Recent History of Asian-African Countries courses”: Vilnius Pedagogical University Archive (VPUA), C. 1, In. 1, File 954; 40–42. 120 This definition was formulated on November 5, 1971 during a meeting of the Party’s history sector: LSA, C. 3377, In. 49, File 62; 110. 121 LSA, C. 3377, In. 48, File 1161; 10. 122 They were: paper by Vytautas Merkys from 1967 “Methodical and methodological problems in history in the latest historical literature” (LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 248; 19); seminars by Algimantas Krikštopaitis in 1976 and 1977 “Methodological issues in the history of the natural sciences” (Ibid., File 403; 13) and “The model as a means of formalizing historical data (Ibid., File 422; 15); a discussion organized in 1978 titled “The methodical preparation of scientific papers” and the paper by Severinas Vaitiekus “The objectivity and subjectivity of historical facts” (Ibid., File 444; 6); the paper by Jonas Mardosa from 1979 “Sampling method principles in ethnographical and ethnosocial field research” (Ibid., File 463; 13); seminars by Jurginis from 1980 and 1981 “The object and method of cultural history” (Ibid., File 484; 9) and “The object and research methods of historical geography” (Ibid., File 505; 16). In 1981 a group of speakers (Mulevičius, Tyla, Merkys, Gudavičius and Jučas) organized a scientific seminar “On the terminology of Lithuania’s history” (Ibid., 17). In 1982 Mulevičius read a paper on the “Issues of methodology of historical facts in knowledge of the past [On the terminology of Lithua- nia’s history]”, Tamara Taršilova’s paper – “The application of mathematical methods in historical research” (Ibid., File 539; 32). In 1984 Vitalis Morkūnas headed a scientific discussion “Directions and methods of contemporary ethnographical research in the Soviet Union” (Ibid., File 568; 20). In 1985 a presenter from Moscow, Vladimir Pimenov, read his paper “A system- ical, statistical ethnicity research method” (Ibid., File 600; 18). 123 Grabski, 2003, 206. 124 Interview with Antanas Kulakauskas on October 19, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 125 See: Viliūnas, 2002, 65. Endnotes 239

126 Švedas, 2008b, 224. 127 This question was formulated by: Bumblauskas, 1999a. 128 In their attempts at counting cases illustrating a creative relationship with the Marxist paradigm, Polish historiographers usually name no more than two or three scientists and their works. According to Andrzej Grabski, studies by Jerzy Topolski and Witold Kula that appeared in the second half of the 1960s went beyond the orthodox Marxist canon: Grabski, 2003, 215. Rafał Stobiecki is inclined to give a similar assessment, believing that after 1956–1957 two “types” of Marxism formed in Polish historiography: 1) the type that blindly followed party dogma; and 2) “revisionism”, its representatives being Kula and Topolski: Stobiecki, 1993, 136–137. Yet in the view of Gwidon Zalejko, in the People’s Republic of Poland, the development of Marxism was closely monitored by three scientists who also tried to add to its creative reception – Grabski himself, Topolski and Władysław Serczyk: Zalejko, 1993, 8. Meanwhile, Alfredas Bumblauskas, who researched Soviet Lithuanian historiography, considers there to have been only one historian who consistently cultivated Marxist theory in the narrowest sense in Lithuania – Gu- davičius: Bumblauskas, 1999a, 398. 129 Interview with Irena Valikonytė, December 16, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 130 Gurevich, 2004, 96. 131 See: VUA, C. R-856, In. 24, File 835; 29. 132 Aleksandravičius, 2000, 347. 133 This method is considered as one of the most important characteristics of Soviet historiography: Afanasjev, 1996, 187. 134 Censorship application models overseeing publications by Lithuania’s humanities academics and writers are revealed in collections of memoirs and documents: Sabonis, 1992. An overview of the censorship mechanisms in place throughout the USSR: Blium, 1994; Blium, 2000. The relations between historians and censors in the 1920s, as discussed in the monograph by Mikhail Zelenov: Zelenov, 2000. 135 For more on such experiences, see: Gurevich, 2004, 97. 136 Interview with Vytautas Merkys on October 18, 2008, from the author’s personal archive. 137 To assess the results of this competition amongst scientists, the imperative “as much as possible in the shortest amount of time” was replaced with a search for “the best scientific article, monograph, collective work or document publication” (for more on this, see the Institute of History directorate’s enlarged meeting minutes from March 15, 1976, LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 411; 36). In time, this category was deemed overly general and new criteria were added (see: the Institute of History directorate’s meeting minutes from January 8, 1980, LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 487; 1–2). 138 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 14; 5. 139 Critical comments of this nature regarding the Institute of History would especially often be heard when it was directed by Povilas Pakarklis (see pp. 87–92). 140 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 72; 6. 141 For more about collective work as one of the most important features of Soviet science, see Juozas Matulis’ reflections from the general assemblies of the LSSR Academy of Sciences from 1949 and 1952: LCSA, C. 1001, In. 2, File 86; 41–42; Ibid., File 204; 36. 142 Švedas, 2008b, 223. 143 Paleckis, 2006, 305. 144 This metaphor was recommended by: Zalejko, 1993, 131. 145 See: Jurginis, 1960; Žiugžda and Šadžius,1969; Šadžius, 1972; Gaigalaitė, 1970a; Žiugžda, 1970; Navickas, 1976; Jučas, 1980; Atamukas, 1986; Žepkaitė, 1987. 146 Interview with Algirdas Vaitkūnas, October 25, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 240 Aurimas Švedas

147 Matulis, 1999b, 227. 148 See: Voverienė, 2002. 149 Kubilius, 1990. 150 For more on Leopold von Ranke’s revolution in the science of history, see: Iggers, 1997, 23–31. 151 LSA, C. 1233, In. 2, File 85; 75. 152 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 533; 125. 153 Interview with Algirdas Vaitkūnas, October 25, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 154 Švedas, 2007b, 232. 155 Jonynas, 1984. 156 Merkys, 1991. During the interview on October 11, 2005 Merkys stressed the positive influences of Ignas Jonynas and Konstantinas Jablonskis in his path in becoming a young scientist. 157 Interview with Algirdas Vaitkūnas, October 25, 2005; Interview with Algirdas Šidlauskas, Jan- uary 16, 2006, from the author’s personal archive. 158 Aleksandravičius has often stated that he considered Merkys to be his teacher: Aleksandra- vičius, 2000, 336. The influence of this historian in choosing his scientific priorities has also been highlighted by Kulakauskas: “I never had any teachers in the direct sense of the word. In this case, you could say I am “self-taught”. However, as a correspondence teacher, my greatest influence has been Merkys. He is why I totally consciously chose 19th century history” (In- terview with Antanas Kulakauskas, October 19, 2005, from the author’s personal archive). 159 See: Aleksandravičius and Kulakauskas, 2001, 22. 160 See: Nikžentaitis, 2004, 145. 161 As noted by Jurginis’ colleagues Jučas and Gudavičius during an interview: Švedas, 2007b, 229; Švedas, 2008b, 140, 228. The following texts, dedicated to thoughts on Jablonski’s academic activities, could also probably serve as testimony of these scientists’ relations: Jurginis, 1972; Jurginis, 1973. 162 Švedas, 2008b, 35–38, 210. 163 Interview with Algirdas Šidlauskas, January 16, 2006, from the author’s personal archive. 164 Gaigalaitė, 2002, 59, 182. 165 Švedas, 2008a, 33. 166 Bumblauskas has on many occasions deliberated and described his own relations with his teacher in various texts, interviews and commentary. In Nikžentaitis’ view, in the science of history as it is now, Gudavičius embodies the school of “social history researchers”: Nikžen- taitis, 2004, 145. 167 Švedas, 2008b, 35, 37, 147, 150, 151, 177, 178, 210. 168 Interview with Irena Valikonytė, December 16, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 169 This especially negative feature of Soviet-era historiography, and of science in general, was noted by academic Piotr Kapica in a letter to Nikita Khrushchev back in 1955, dated Decem- ber 15: Sidorova, 1997, 58–59. 170 For more on this, see pp. 136–137. 171 VUA, C. R-856, In. 16, File 35; 16. 172 Accusations of “slavenly pandering” or ignorance of the role of “early Russian and Soviet science” were thrown not just at historians. Even the most famous scientists of Soviet Lithuania had to field such claims: Juozas Balčikonis, Vytautas Girdzijauskas, Tadas Ivanauskas, Vytautas Kairiūkštis, Vladas Lašas, Jurgis Lebedžius, Antanas Purėnas, Viktoras Ruokis (See: Anušauskas, 2005, 369). 173 Minutes of a meeting of the Institute of History Science Board that took place on March 30, 1956, to discuss the resolutions from the 20th Congress of the CPSU, LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 102; 10. Endnotes 241

174 See pp. 76–81. 175 In the opinion of Liubov Sidorova, the decision to blindly follow information found in a specific historical document “required of scientists not only scientific goodwill, but also determi- nation, as the temptation to non-conflictingly check emasculative quotes that often deformed the essence of a certain document was immense” (Sidorova, 1997, 18). 176 Theses of Vilnius University’s Faculty of History Reformation Movement initiative group from 1988, VUA, C. R-856, In. 24, File 835; 30. 177 The critique campaign aimed at Izidorius Butkevičius’ bookLietuvos valstiečių gyvenvietės ir sodybos [Lithuanian Peasants’ Settlements and Farmsteads] reveals just how much attention was focused on depictions of the past and that they would not dwarf the “beauty” of the socialist present. See pp. 148–150. 178 LSA, C. 1771, In. 272, File 1; 24. 179 See pp. 97–104. 180 Zaborskaitė, 2002, 212. 181 Burokevičius, 1972, 91. 182 The author of this accurate remark, LSSR Minister of Culture (1967–1976) and Central Com- mittee of the LCP (B) Secretary (1976–1989), discussed in his memoirs what these categorical divides that separated cultural heritage from its creators meant in Soviet-era culture: Šepetys, 2005, 107. 183 Vaitkevičius, 1978, 523. 184 Romas Šarmaitis’ journal, 1975–1986, LSA, C. 17635, In. 1, File 26, 248. 185 Jarmalavičius, 1973. 186 Stasys Laurinaitis who in 1976 wrote a brochure about the “united stream” theory and its contexts had to state several times that in order to protect the “ideological innocence” of scientists and writers, the measures applied were admittedly often too tough, resulting in a caricaturi- zation of depictions of the past: Laurinaitis, 1976, 116, 124, 139. 187 Laurinaitis’ brochure mentioned earlier is an exception. However, even after reading it, it does not become any clearer how to accurately define “united stream”, moreover, what preventative measures may assist in avoiding this “ideological deviation”. 188 Interview with Irena Valikonytė, December 16, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 189 Sabonis, 1992, 292. 190 Švedas, 2008b, 204. 191 This description of “Bolshevik criticism” by Antanas Raguotis, the first secretary of the Cen- tral Committee of the Lenin Young Communist League of Lithuania (the Komsomol of Lith- uania), gives a particularly accurate indication of the conditions under which the Soviet-era Lithuanian historiographical official discourse was formed and existed. Instances of correct polemics between historians in those days were very rare, and criticism almost always signified accusations of straying from the “ideological line” for which various forms of punishment or even repressions were handed out. See Raguotis’ speech from the LSSR Young Writers’ Sec- ond Conference which took place on May 12–13, 1951, LALA, C. 34, In. 1, File 54; 25. 192 LSA, C. 1771, In. 227, File 2775; 17. 193 Recommendation written on April 6,1941, ibid., 18. 194 The juxtaposition of the “black” (forfeiter of history) and the “white” (loyal to the truth) chroniclers was created by the poet Justinas Marcinkevičius in his poetic drama “Mindaugas” (1968) about the first and only Lithuanian king (13th c.). In Soviet-era Lithuanian society, the metophorical reference to the two chroniclers constant argument over the concept of historical truth, and relations between historians and the government, was seen as covert criticism of the trends that gained prominence in Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography. 242 Aurimas Švedas

195 Reports made by Žiugžda and his wife on January 10, 1957 regarding threats received over the telephone, addressed to Kazimieras Liaudžius, chairman of the State Security Committee under the Council of People’s Commissars of the Lithuanian SSR, LAS MD, In. 275, File 29, 1–2. 196 Švedas, 2007a, 93. 197 LSA, C. 10507, In. 2, File 1, l. 64–65. For more on the conflict between S. Matulaitis and J. Ži- ugžda and the latter’s dénouement, see pp. 92–97. 198 Interview with Vaclovas Milius on May 5, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 199 LSA, C. K-1, In. 10, File 155, l. 127–128. 200 Žiugžda, 1938. 201 Notice from Piotr Kondakov, the minister of the Ministry of State Security of the Lithuanian SSR, dated March 24, 1953, addressed personally to the first secretary of the Central Commit- tee of the Lithuanian Communist Party Sniečkus, regarding individuals on whom the Minis- try of State Security has compromising information: LSA, C. K-1, In. 10, File 151; 135–141. Cited from: Tininis, 2003a,140–141. 202 Gaigalaitė, 2002, 154. 203 In the report of the Institute of History’s party organization on its activities in 1957 that was given to the Central Committee of the LCP (B)’s Science and Higher Education Branch, it was highlighted that: “What is characteristic is that all the scientific studies from this sector only see the light of day after the Institute director’s, Prof. J. Žiugžda’s, editing and censorship. This means that, for example, in 1955, J. Žiugžda had to edit over 1350 pages of scientific text, not including those studies where he was the author. Given these circumstances, it is without a doubt that the sector, the remaining research fellows, and comrade Koniuchov who is in charge of the sector, all play a smaller role”. (LSA, C. 1771, In. 188, File 44; 4). 204 The Lithuanian émigré press was replete with similar epithets about Žiugžda: Vykintas, 1959; “Lietuvos okupacijos aiškintojai patys sau prieštarauja. Žiugžda klastoja istorinę tikrovę”, 1959. 205 LSA, C. 1771, In. 10, File 30; 28. 206 LSA, C. 1771, In. 51, File 216; 90–9. 207 LSA, C. 1232, In. 9, File 2; 52–53, 63–66, 138–139. 208 LSA, C. 1233, In. 1233-1, File 9; 267. 209 Žiugžda, 1947. 210 See: Žiugžda, 1950a. 211 See pp. 97–104 in this book for more on Paleckis’ position on the processes of the late 19th century. Incidentally, the author of the brochure that provoked this wave of criticism tried on several occasions to ask his colleagues whether perharps Žiugžda’s article from 1947 in Tiesa was more detrimental to the Soviet-era public’s consciousness than the one line from Paleckis on Basanavičius that appeared in the Tarybinė Lietuva brochure (see: Minutes from the Cen- tral Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau meeting on April 20, 1951, LSA, C. 1771, In. 112, File 59; 19). However, the quantitative and qualitative ratio of Paleckis’ and Žiugžda’s texts was of little interest to most. The director of the Institute of History was much more aware of the developing conjunctures than was Paleckis, and spared no scruples in denying his concepts and admitted he was wrong. This was more than enough to satisfy the Party leadership. 212 LSA, C. 16895, In. 2, File 68; 34. 213 LSA, C. 1771, In. 131, File 179; 49–50. 214 LSA, C. 1771, In. 131, File 215; 68, 168–169. 215 LSA, C. 1771, In. 162, File 4; 62. 216 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 111; 2. 217 LSA, C. 1771, In. 112, File 80; 4–7. 218 Ibid., 5. Endnotes 243

219 Ibid., 7. 220 See: Jučas, 2004, 465. 221 LSA, C. K-1, In. 10, File 155; 127–130. 222 Merkys refers to this in his recollections: a conversation between Gediminas Zemlickas and Vytautas Merkys: Merkys, 2004, 7. 223 See: Gaigalaitė, 2002, 156. 224 LSA, C. 1771, In. 149, File 120; 29. 225 These most important of Žiugžda’s “merits” to the science of history were listed by Jurginis when he was preparing the draft for a special speech to mark the Institute of History director’s 70th birthday: LALA, C. 205, In. 1, File 215; 11–14. This speech by Jurginis unveils one of the essential features of Soviet-era historiography – the use of “masks”. Having on numerous occasions opposed Žiugžda and questioned his ideas via texts and speeches made at various work-related meetings, in public Jurginis was forced to praise the director and legitimize his activities. 226 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 82; 4–12. 227 Another discussion on the activities of Žiugžda as an especially important formulator of the official discourse of Soviet-era Lithuanian historiography: Šadžius, 1986. 228 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 39; 13. 229 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 74; 26. 230 LSCA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 88; 84. Korsakas, who could perfectly navigate historical politics and “play by the rules”, made rather conceptual criticism of Žiugžda’s work principles in compiling the synthesis of Lithuania’s history, at the same time showing that the reckless application of Soviet Marxism “harnesses” could come across as objectionable. The fact that this individual, who made a fundamental contribution to the formation of the Soviet-era Lithuanian studies tradition, through his thinking and orientations differed from Žiugžda, the “supervisor” of the historians’ community, was mentioned in interviews by Lithuanian studies researchers Bronys Savukynas and Vanda Zaborskaitė: Švedas, 2006a, 540–541; Švedas, 2007a, 93. 231 LSCA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 88; 88. Incidentally, during the meeting held on June 27, 1955, where the short course draft was discussed, the director also did not hide his doubts regarding the mentioned problem: “The political significance of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania may be mentioned, but there is no reason why this issue needs to be especially expanded.” (LSCA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 88; 69). 232 Representatives from the Institute of History of the Academy of Sciences of the USSR that participated in the deliberation of the draft of the first volume of the History of the LSSR in Vilnius on January 25–27, 1954 were: academic Mikhail Tichomirov, head of the Feudalism sector Lev Cherepnin, senior research fellows Viktor Jacunski, Nikolaj Ustiugov, head of the Mikluch-Mak- laja Institute of Ethnography Prof. Nikolaj Cheboksarov and senior research fellow Lyudmila Terentjeva. (For a shorthand record of this conference, see: LSCA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 82). 233 Up until 1956, the work carried out by the Academy of Sciences was checked up three times: by commissions headed by academic Jevgenij Pavlovski in 1951, academic Ivan Artobolevski in 1953, and by academic Dmitrij Shcherbakov in 1956. Even though these (and later) commissions focused most attention of the applied and fundamental sciences, they also carried out an “audit” of the humanities scientists: LSCA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 188; C. R-1001, In. 2, File 284; C. R-1001, In. 2, File 451 Part I; C. R-1001, In. 2, File 451 a. 234 Švedas, 2008b, 180–181. 235 The first such wave of criticism that shook the Soviet Lithuanian community of historians that had just started forming, was provoked by the 15th Plenum of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) that took place on November 29, 1947. “Creatively implementing the directives 244 Aurimas Švedas

of the Central Committee of the CPSU (B), the LSSR Party elite caused tensions in the social sciences, tensions that made scientists’ lives significantly more difficult. 236 Pashuto, 1959. The significance of this study on Lithuanian historiography has been discussed and assessed by Edvardas Gudavičius: Gudavičius, 1997a, 15. 237 Švedas, 2007b, 227. 238 “Atsinaujinimo galimybės Lietuvos kultūros istorijoje [Diskusija]” (1996), 187. 239 Interview with Vytautas Merkys on October 11, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 240 See: Žiugžda’s speech “Tarybinių mokslininkų darbo kryptis” [Work orientation of Soviet scientists], read during the general assembly of the Academy of Sciences on February 23, 1946, LSCA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 23; 237–247. 241 Such are the epithets that describe the prior input of pre-war Lithuanian historians in the first part of the History of the Lithuanian SSR released in 1953: Žiugžda, 1953, 4. 242 See: Tininis, 2003c, 48. 243 LSCA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 18; 32. 244 Ibid., 34. 245 Ibid., 56. 246 LSCA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 60; 5. 247 Draft of Jurginis’ speech for Žiugžda’s 70th birthday, LALA, C. 205, In. 1, File 215; 10. 248 Jurginis’ speech “Lietuvos istorija feodalizmo epochos tyrinėjimuose” [Lithuania’s history in research on the feudalism epoch], LALA, C. 205, In. 1, File 205; 1. 249 Speech by the secretary of the Vilnius University Party Bureau, Vladas Taurinskas, LSA, C. 7017, In. 1, File 7; 15. 250 LSA, C. 1771, In. 10, File 30; 19–20. 251 LSCA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 57; 16. 252 Orwell, 2013. 253 LSCA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 57; 86. 254 LSCA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 39; 13. 255 VUA, C. R-856, In. 2, File 17; 185. 256 VUA, C. R-856, In. 16, File 45; 136. 257 Later Jonynas would regret both his speech, and the use of the mentioned quote: “My speech was wrought with an open or semi-open form of bourgeois objectivism. I had not realized that Cicero’s saying Quis nescit primam esse historiae legem ne quid falsi dicere audeat, deinde ne quid veri non audeat? [For who does not know history’s first law that an author must not dare to tell anything but the truth?] was an inducement to turn to bourgeois objectivism (Synopsis of Jonynas’ speech made on November 5, 1948 at a university board meeting, LAS MD, C. 105, File 30; 12). 258 VUA, C. R-856, In. 2, File 13; 188–190 v. 259 VUA, C. R-856, In. 2, File 34; 112. 260 Ibid. 261 See: Meeting minutes of the Department of World History on December 7, 1948, VUA, C. R-856, In. 16, File 7; 44–45; Meeting minutes from the Department of History of the USSR Nations on December 16, 1948, VUA, C. R-856, In. 16, File 18; 26–28. 262 LSA, C. 16895, In. 2, File 22; 45. 263 LSA, C. 1771, In. 51, File 216; 216. 264 Minutes No. 29 (undated) LSA, C. 7071, In. 1, File 8; 247. 265 LSA, C. 7017, In. 1, File 23; 88. 266 Švedas, 2007b, 232. 267 Žukas, 2002, 32. Endnotes 245

268 LSA, C. 1771, In. 9, File 21; 26–27. 269 Meeting minutes from the Department of the History of the USSR Nations on March 31, 1949, VUA, C. R-856, In. 16, File 18; 6. 270 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 34; 50. 271 Ibid. 272 For more on the course of this discussion, see pp. 160–161. 273 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 34; 11. 274 Ibid., 15. 275 Stenograph of the deliberation of the periodization of the history of the Lithuanian SSR that took place on April 1–3, 1952, LALA, C. 16, In. 1, File 55; 30–35. This speech by Jablonskis is presented and analyzed in regards to the creation of the Lithuanian history periodization model (p. 160). 276 Jablonskis’ “artful” polemizing with colleagues who held a strictly Soviet dogmatic view of the time-frame model caught the attention of Lithuanian émigré historian Trumpa: Trumpa, 2001, 292. 277 Jablonskis’ “Comments on Parts II and III”, LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 74; 79. 278 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 56; 84–85. 279 Švedas, 2007b, 226. 280 Merkys, 1991, 101. Ivinskis has discussed in detail the efforts Jablonskis took to create these links and their outcomes in the Soviet period: Ivinskis, 1961. 281 The concept of “ideologically oriented humanists” is rather complicated. In this case it refers to the specific efforts of communists to abide by cooperative humanistic principles in their lives, and orientate themselves not after the pursuit of personal gains or complying with the leadership’s latest vagaries, but to exploit each situation for the benefit of work conducted in the field of Lithuanian studies. 282 A comprehensive personal biography and overview of Pakarklis’ professional activities has been compiled by Valdas Selenis: Selenis, 2002. 283 For an emotion-filled account of how Pakarklis discovered Donelaitis’ manuscripts, see: minutes of the first Lithuanian SSR Writers’ Conference on October 25–28, 1945, LALA, C. 34, In. 1, File 8; 48–50. 284 Švedas, 2007b, 230. B. Savukynas has also spoken widely on Pakarklis’ Lithuanian studies related activities: Švedas, 2006a, 542. 285 Interview with Vytautas Merkys on October 11, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 286 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 15; 2–18. 287 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 3; 65–72. 288 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 14; 3. 289 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 39; 12. 290 Ibid., 21. 291 LSA, C. 1771, In. 10, File 30; 18. 292 LSA, C. 1771, In. 10, File 32; 383, 427–428. 293 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 57; 64–67. 294 Ibid., 144. 295 Article 5 in the mentioned resolution states: “Finding that the director of the Lithuanian In- stitute of History, member correspondent Pakarklis did not ensure valid leadership of the In- stitute’s work, the Presidium and thereby called upon to take specific measures to rectify the operation of the Lithuanian Institute of History” (LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 57; 161). 296 See the list of Pakarklis’ “sins” whilst in charge of the Institute of History in the review of his life and work: Pšibilskis, 1987, 27. 246 Aurimas Švedas

297 LAS MD, C. 129, File 928; 4 v. 298 LAS MD, C. 129, File 936; 1. 299 LSA, C. 77, In. 28, File 7004; 2, 57. 300 On October 7, 1946, where the Institute’s collective went over the critical comments made against Pakarklis at the Presidium of the Academy of Sciences, Matulaitis also added some comments, thereby earning the director’s disapproval (see: Pakarklis’ thoughts of the meeting, LAS MD, C. 129, File 1033; 17–18). However, during the general assembly of the Academy of Sciences on January 14, 1948, deliberating the Pakarklis “issue”, Matulaitis attempts to explain the director’s difficult situation and asks that he receive any type of assistance that may be required: LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 57. 301 LSA, C. 1771, In. 51, File 214; 279. 302 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 86; 35. 303 LSA, C. 10507, In. 2, File 1; 12. 304 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 112; 158. 305 More severe criticism against Žiugžda was voiced only perhaps by the rector of Vilnius Uni- versity Juozas Bulavas in 1956 and other representatives of the social sciences that had already twice debated the Soviet synthesis of Lithuania’s history. However, these “rebellions” were at least in part sanctioned and inspired by the then Party’s leadership, which in effect controlled them and stopped them from taking on a more dangerous form. For more, see pp. 104–114. 306 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 112; 158–159. 307 Ibid., 162–163. 308 Ibid., 183. 309 Ibid., 232. 310 See: LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 34; 46–47. 311 Ibid., 59. 312 Ibid., 57. 313 See: LSA, C. 1771, In. 90, File 21; 56. 314 LSA, C. 10507, In. 1, File 3; 9. 315 Ibid., 20. 316 Paleckis, 1947; Paleckis, 1949. Several books about J. Paleckis have been released in the 21st century where the authors see this figure in an obviously sympathetic light, yet do not always manage to remain objective in their assessments. See: Lipskis, 2010; Kašauskienė, 2013. 317 On November 16–19, 1950 during the 8th Plenum of the Central Committee of the LCP (B), Sniečkus declared that Paleckis and the current Chairman of the Council of People’s Com- missars Mečislovas Gedvilas “rather often criticize the party organization, saying it goes over- board. These people ignore the monumental work these party organizations carry out, and instead only create an image of coercion and infringement of justice…” (LSA, C. 1771, In. 90, File 21; 61). 318 LSA, C. 1771, In. 131, File 34; 28. 319 These epithets for Paleckis came from writer Jonas Šimkus in the text from 1962 “Rašytojas ir dvi jo knygos” [The Writer and His Two Books]: Julija Jakaitienė, 1987, 14. The historian Jurginis referred to Paleckis in 1986 as “a creator of historical genre popular literature”: Ibid., 146. 320 Paleckis, 1947, 6. 321 Paleckis, 1949, 20. 322 Paleckis, 1949, 20. 323 Ibid., 19. 324 Niunka, 1950, 46–49. Endnotes 247

325 LSA, C. 1771, In. 51, File 216; 93. 326 LSA, C. 1771, In. 51, File 216; 282. 327 Ibid., 494. 328 Ibid., 508. 329 Ibid., 450. 330 LSA, C. 1771, In. 90, File 21; 316. 331 Ibid., 185–193. 332 LSA, C. 1771, In. 90, File 21; 247. 333 Ibid., 249. 334 When pushed against the wall, Paleckis sometimes mentioned that he had made some errors in Советская Литва; however he continued not to demonstrate complete obedience to the majority’s opinion: Meeting minutes of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau from April 20, 1951, LSA, C. 1771, In. 112, File 59; 19. 335 LSA, C. 1771, In. 131, File 34; 24–25. 336 LSA, C. 1771, In. 90, File 21; 151. 337 LSA, C. 1771, In. 131, File 34; 42–43. 338 See his son’s recollections: Paleckis, 2006, 183. 339 LSA, C. 1771, In. 131, File 8; 76–77. 340 Ibid., 261–264; 515. 341 Ibid., 468–469. 342 LSA, C. 1771, In. 131, File 8; 304. 343 Ibid., 338; 537. 344 For example, at the 5th Plenum of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) on June 11–13, 1953, Paleckis urged his colleagues to “use correctly” the traditions of the early Lithuanian state, and to not ignore the pre-war state’s national form” (LSA, C. 1771, In. 131, File 179; 97–98). While at the LCP (B) 10th Congress on February 12–15, 1958, he raised the issue of insufficient representation of Lithuanian culture in the Union’s generalizing publications (LSA, C. 1771, In. 191, File 431; 317–319). 345 At the LCP (B) 5th Congress, comparing the attitude of Lithuanian, Latvian and Estonian historians towards 19th-century national liberation movement activists, Paleckis convincingly demonstrated that Lithuanian historians showed no remorse in negative connotations regarding these personalities, whereas, according to Paleckis, Estonians and Latvians in almost all cases applied the accommodating concept of “democratically orientated activists” (LSA, C. 1771, In. 191, File 431; 320–322). 346 See the periodization model selected by the authors of the Soviet synthesis of Lithuanian history which distinguishes: Lithuania during the political “thaw” period (1953–1964) (Anušauskas, 2005, 406–480). 347 Almost all interview subjects, when asked the question “When talking about the entire Soviet period, from 1945 to 1990, would it be possible to distinguish a period during which it became easier to work, when you could be less cautious of censorship and say more?”, scientists of the time identified 1956. 348 The analysis by Liubova Sidorova is particularly significant in the context of the issue being discussed, as it goes into detail on how “thawing” processes were expressed in the Russian Soviet history centres: Sidorova, 1997. 349 See: LSA, C. 16895, In. 2, File 231; 12–20. 350 Tornau and Navickas did not participate in the discussion about the textbook, explaining that they had nothing to add (Ibid., 20). 351 Ibid., 15. 248 Aurimas Švedas

352 Ibid., 17. 353 Ibid., 18–19. 354 Ibid., 19. 355 Ibid., 20. 356 See: LSA, C. 3377, In. 17, File 7; 1–5. 357 LSA, C. 3377, In. 17, File 7; 2. 358 Ibid. 359 Ibid., 3. 360 Ibid. 361 Ibid. 362 Ibid. 363 Ibid., 4. 364 Ibid. 365 On this figure’s activities in the “thawing” process in Lithuania and the re-Lithuanianization procedures carried out at Vilnius University, which were of particular importance to the So- viet-era Lithuanian public, see: Vilniaus Universiteto istorija 1579–1994 [The History of Vilnius University, 1579–1994], 290–293; Kazlauskas, 1988, 1–2; Juozaitis, 1993, 45–56. 366 Evening meeting minutes of the executive assembly of the Lithuanian SSR Academy of Sciences Department of Social Sciences, December 13, 1956, LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 4, File 77; 19. 367 Ibid., 20. 368 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 4, File 77, 20. 369 Ibid., 22. 370 Ibid. 371 Ibid. 372 See: LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 402, 122. 373 Ibid. 374 Ibid., 131. 375 This commission was assembled on October 24, 1956 at the meeting of the Presidium of the Academy of Sciences: see Presidium resolution No. 182 “On formation of a commission to familiarize itself with the scientific activities of the Institute of History and preparation of recommendations for the development and improvement of scientific research work”, LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 416; 181. Yet this commission was not found to have actually done anything, and no conclusions on the activities conducted by the institution under Žiugžda’s control were ever presented. 376 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 4, File 77; 30. 377 Ibid., 31. 378 LSA, C. 16895, In. 2, File 226; 18. 379 Ibid., 42. 380 A similar assessment of de-Stalinization processes in Lithuania was made by: Tininis, 1995, 58–59, 65, 73. 381 LSA, C. 16895, In. 2, File 73; 176. Incidentally, the shorthand record of this meeting of the Cen- tral Committee of the LCP (B) Bureau was “divided” before ending up in Collection 1771 (of the LCP (B) Central Committee), and Sniečkus’ expressive passage about the events in Hun- gary was erased: LSA, C. 1771, In. 191, File 368; 68–75. 382 LSA, C. 1771, In. 191, File 431; 155. 383 Ibid., 156. 384 See: LSA, C. 1771, In. 191, File 542; 83. 385 Ibid., 86. Endnotes 249

386 For more on this, see: Vilniaus Universiteto istorija 1579–1994 [The History of Vilnius Univer- sity…], 293–295. 387 Bumblauskas, 2005, 55. 388 This thought was expressed by Sniečkus on March 13, 1973 at a meeting of the Party nomenklatura. It may be taken as a sign that during the second stage of development of Soviet-era historiography, the Party leaders’ mentality and accents based on which the objectives of the humanities were being formulated changed. The Communist Party’s leaders, who were based in Vilnius, increased their trust in the power of the state and thus were able to start believing that defensive behaviour (first of all, on the “ideological front”) had to be exchanged for active attacks (LSA, C. 1771, In. 248, File 132). 389 Interview with Lionginas Šepetys on February 21, 2006, from the author’s personal archive. 390 LSA, C. 10507, In. 2, File 1; 17. 391 Švedas, 2008b, 222. 392 Minutes from the meeting where Sverdlov’s dissertation was being discussed: VUA, C. R-856, In. 24, b. 216; 30–48. 393 Tamošiūnas, 1977, 95–99. 394 Interview with Ričardas Čepas on March 11, 2006, from the author’s personal archive. 395 Merkys gave a sequenced account of this tactic during an interview on October 18, 2008. From the author’s personal archive. 396 See: Kuhn, 1996, 27. 397 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 259; 206–207. 398 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 264; 8. 399 Interview with Angelė Vyšniauskaitė on May 26, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 400 Švedas, 2010, 411. 401 Švedas, 2008b, 223. 402 Koniuchov and Šarmaitis, 1955, 168. 403 See: criticism of S. Klein’s dissertation from 1962: LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 167; 121; criticism of Henrikas Šadžius’ dissertation from 1962: Ibid., C. 16, In. 1, File 171; 124; criticism of Antanas Tyla’s dissertation from 1964: Ibid., File 181; 41; criticism of Jonas Dobrovolski’s dissertation from 1965: Ibid., File 171; 83; criticism of Ona Maksimaitienė’s dissertation from 1966: Ibid., File 213; 12; criticism of Martynas Apanavičius’ dissertation from 1967: Ibid., File 214; 67; criticism of Ričardas Čepas’ dissertation from 1968: Ibid., File 262; 32; criticism of Giedrius But- kus’ dissertation from 1969: Ibid., File 262; 44; criticism of Abelis Stražas’ dissertation from 1970: Ibid., File 296; 9; criticism of Aleksandras Jefremenka’s dissertation from 1971: Ibid., File 306; 15; criticism of Feliksas Sliesoriūnas’ dissertation from 1971: VUA, C. R-856, In. 24, File 33; 27, 29; criticism of Giedrė Kilikevičienė’s dissertation from 1971: LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 329; 36. 404 Interview with Algirdas Šidlauskas on January 16, 2006, from the author’s personal archive. 405 This was how Merkys was forced to teach his colleague, discussing the article by Mindaugas Bartininkas at a Institute of History meeting on November 11, 1960. LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 144; 14. 406 This question was posed by Eugenijus Grunskis to Jonas Rekešius on November 18, 1983 at a meeting of the Socialist society sector, discussing the article by Rekešius. LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 554; 28. 407 This reproach was made by Jurginis reviewing Stražas’ dissertation in 1970. LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 296; 7. A similar comment was made by Algirdas Rakūnas regarding Jonas Aničas’ dissertation. Ibid., File 328; 24. Jefremenka heard the same things when colleagues discussed the monograph he had written for publication in1973. Ibid., File 342; 56; File 344; 17–18, 20, 22; 250 Aurimas Švedas

VUA, C. R-856, In. 24, File 95; 6–7. Analogical comments were directed at Pranas Arlauskas who in 1977 offered his dissertation for primary deliberation. LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 429; 15. 408 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 23; 237–247. 409 Тichomirov, 1955, 12. 410 See the document titled “Istorijos instituto bendradarbių pastabos dėl drg. Gentvilos – Bičkau- sko darbo „1863 m. sukilimas Lietuvoje” [Comments made by staff at the Institute of History regarding the work by comrade Gentvila – Bičkauskas “The 1863 Uprising in Lithuania”]. LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 121; 18. 411 A review by Jurginis, Jučas and Merkys dated April 28, 1960 of the article by Rokas Varakau- skas and Algirdas Rakūnas, LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 138; 141. 412 Jurginis, 1988a, 4. 413 Švedas, 2009a, 113. 414 Interview with L. Šepetys on February 21, 2006, from the author’s personal archive. 415 Minutes from a meeting of the History of the Lithuanian SSR prior to the October Revolution sector on May 18, 1962, LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 115; 38. 416 The necessity of raising and resolving issues, and not just passively retelling certain subjects from the past, as stressed by Jurginis, has been recorded in many of the meeting minutes of the Institute of History and the Faculty of History-Philology: LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 115; 24; File 144; 71; File 214; 15–16; File 304; 38; VUA, C. R-856, In. 16, File 349; 24. 417 This provision was voiced by Jurginis on October 29, 1958 at an Institute of History scholars’ meeting, where the matter of raising the qualification of scientists was being discussed: LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 116; 31. 418 Ibid., 22–23. 419 Ibid., 29. 420 Ibid., C. 16, In. 1, File 182; 5. 421 Ibid., C. 16, In. 1, File 342; 57–58. 422 Kašauskienė, Šiškienė, 1986. 423 Jurginis, 1965a, 3. 424 See: Jurginis, 1969; Jurginis, 1984; Jurginis, Šidlauskas, 1983. 425 Jurginis, 1974, 41. 426 Jurginis, 2007, 74. 427 Ibid., 75–76. 428 Jurginis handed the text over to the archivists at the Lithuanian Archives of Literature and Art who were responsible for compiling this historian’s fund. See the original at: LALA, C. 205, In. 1, File 171; 2. 429 Jurginis, 1967a, 3. 430 Ibid. 431 “Istorijos mokslo Lietuvoje pasigendant”, 1967, 2. 432 LSA, C. 16895, In. 2, File 231; 168. 433 Jurginis, 1964, 2. 434 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 238; 95. 435 Ibid., File 385; 56. 436 Report on the work conducted by The Evening University of Marxism-Leninism for 1950/1951, LSA, C. 1771, In. 94, File 2; 47. 437 LSA, C. 1771, In. 112, File 59; 14. 438 Matulis, 1999a, 61. 439 See the meeting minutes of the Academy of Sciences General Assembly from April 23–24, 1951. LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 154;87, 176. Endnotes 251

440 Jurginis, 1957 (21958; 31959; 41960; 51961). To read about the critique campaign over Jurginis’ textbook, see also: Vyšniauskas, 2010. 441 Žiugžda, 1957b. 442 Žiugžda, 1958. 443 LCSA, C. 762, In. 6, File 1487; 22–23. 444 Ibid., 60. 445 LSA, C. 1771, In. 191, File 233; 228–229. 446 Ibid., 311. 447 See: LSA, C. 1771, In. 191, File 431; 84. 448 Žiugžda, 1957a, 43; Mizara, 1958, 6–7; Kondratas, 1958, 2. 449 Jurginis, 1988b, 11. 450 For more on the criticism and punishment of nationalist-orientated agencies, and the leaders of the Ministry of Education and higher education schools and institutions during this campaign, the “review of cadres” and other measures, see: Anušauskas, 2005, 444. 451 See LSA, C. 1771, In. 207, File 111; 14–17. This resolution passed by the Central Committee Bu- reau of the LCP (B) can also be found in the collection of documents compiled by Bagušauskas and Streikus: 2005, 292–295. 452 LCSA, C. 762, In. 6, File 1753 A; 257. 453 Šarmaitis, 1961, 3. 454 It was rather quickly translated and printed in Tiesa [The Truth] (10/01/1962, No. 8; 2–3), Kauno tiesa [The Kaunas Truth] (11/01/1962, No. 9; 2,5) and Tarybinis mokytojas [The Soviet Teacher] (14/01/1962, No. 5; 23). 455 See: the meeting minutes of the Department of History at the Vilnius Pedagogical Institute from December 1, 1961, VPUA (Vilnius Pedagogical University Archive), C. 1, In. 1, File 146; 31–33. At the 13th Congress of the LCP (B), based on the resolution passed down by the Cen- tral Committee of the CPSU, Sniečkus discussed in detail the most important shortcomings of the textbook, according to Moscow: LSA, C. 1771, In. 207, File 3; 303–304. 456 LSA, C. 16895, In. 2, File 231; 102. 457 Ibid., 105. 458 Ibid., 112–113. 459 The unsigned and undated review of Jurginis’ textbook, which appeared on Sniečkus’ desk (LSA, C. 16895, In. 2, File 231, 132–134), was used in an attempt to compile the author’s “list of sins”, consisting of 25 critical comments. 460 This can be confirmed by his children as well: Interview with his son Julius Jurginis and his wife Dalia Jurginienė on October4, 2005. From the author’s personal archive. 461 Šumauskas, 1973, 409–412. 462 See material from the Party Committee meeting of the Lithuanian SSR Academy of Sciences, held on September 10, 1974, LSA, C. 1233, In. 2, File 14; 167–171. 463 LSA, C. 1233, In. 2, File 25; 268. 464 Ibid., 269. 465 Ibid., 210. 466 Ibid., 211. 467 Ibid., 215. 468 LSA, C. 17635, In. 1, File 26; 1–4 v. 469 Švedas, 2008b, 207. 470 Interview with Jurginis and D. Jurginienė from October 4, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 471 Švedas, 2007c, 229. 252 Aurimas Švedas

472 Interview with J. Jurginis and D. Jurginienė from October 4, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 473 Jurginis’ announcement to Sniečkus, from Julius Jurginis’ personal archive. 474 Čekys, 1999, 38. 475 This collection of documents saw the light of day in 1973: Tyla, 1973. 476 Gaigalaitė, 1970b. 477 See: LSA, C. 1233, In. 2, File 25; 24–25. 478 Žiugžda, 1972. For a critique of this book, see: Dabulevičius, 1973, 73–74. 479 Butkevičius, 1971. 480 LSA, C. 1771, In. 248, File 132; 28. 481 Ibid., 29. 482 Ibid., 81. 483 LSA, C. 1233, In. 2, File 12; 139. 484 LSA, C. 1233, In. 2, File 25; 103–106, 108. 485 Ibid., 137. 486 Ibid., 123. 487 Interview with V. Milius on May 5, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 488 See: LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1. File 355; 71. 489 Ibid., 72. 490 Ibid., 75. 491 Ibid. 492 Ibid., 76. 493 Ibid., 80. 494 Lukšaitė, 2004, 13–14. 495 Švedas, 2008a, 34. 496 See: Bagušauskas, Streikus, 2005, 396. 497 Interview with Vytautas Merkys on October 18, 2008, from the author’s personal archive. 498 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 385; 126. 499 Ibid., 127 500 Švedas, 2008a, p. 35. 501 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 404; 1. 502 Ibid., 3–4. 503 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 422; 48–49. 504 Švedas, 2007c, 234. 505 Žiugžda expressed this concept of the summarizing history course which prevailed in the So- viet period in his introductory speech at a conference which commenced on January 25, 1954, during which the draft of Volume I ofHistory of the Lithuanian SSR was discussed (see: LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 82; 2). 506 An important article relating to the context of the research conducted in this part of the book is by Bumblauskas: 2006, 9–26. 507 Stobiecki, 1993,1 22. 508 Švedas, 2007c, 229. 509 Bumblauskas, 1995, 198. 510 Ivinskis, 1991, 33. 511 Švedas, 2009a, 109. 512 Jurginis, 1950, 33–36. 513 Stenograph of the discussion on the periodization of History of the Lithuanian SSR, on April 1–3, 1952, LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 55; 1–28. Endnotes 253

514 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 52; 31. 515 Ibid., 33. 516 Ibid. 517 Ibid., 49. 518 Ibid., 71. 519 Ibid., 62, 84, 89, 101. 520 Ibid., 104. 521 For the surviving part of the stenograph of this conference, see: LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 82. 522 Also see: Jurginis, 1954, 4; Koniuchov, 1954, 179–181. 523 Comments regarding the draft of Volume I of History of the Lithuanian SSR, LASA, C. 16, In. 1, File 54. 524 Žiugžda, 1953, 6. 525 Ibid., 257. 526 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 82; 5. 527 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 54; 110. 528 Žiugžda, 1953, 343. 529 LSA, C. 16895, In. 2, File 231; 15. 530 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 300; 78. 531 Ibid., 79. 532 Ibid., 81. 533 Ibid. 534 Žiugžda, 1957b; Žiugžda, 1963; Žiugžda, 1965; Vaitkevičius, 1975. 535 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 300; 80. 536 Žiugžda, 1958. 537 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 5; 1. 538 Interview with Vaclovas Milius on May 5, 2005, from the author’s personal archive. 539 Kulikauskas, 2001, 385. 540 Ivinskis, 1957a, 15–17; Ivinskis, 1957b, 2. 541 See: LSA, C. 1771, In. 149, File 1; 86. 542 Vaitkevičius, 1978. 543 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 245; 98. 544 LSA, C. 3377, In. 49, File 142; 106. 545 See: Meeting minutes of the Institute of History’s research board of February 21 and March 28, 1975, LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 385; 55–61, 94–102. 546 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 392; 5–6. 547 Dundulis, Dobrovolskas, Rakūnas, 1980, 68–80. 548 Minutes of the general assembly of the LSSR Academy of Sciences Department of Social Sciences, February 7, 1980, LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 1714; 2. 549 Vaitkevičius, 1985. 550 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 484; 101. 551 Intended scientific research work schedule of the Institute of History for 1981–1985, LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 516; 7. 552 Ibid., File 568; 110. 553 Ibid., File 629; 34. 554 Ibid., File 658; 19. 555 VUA, C. 856, In. 24, File 623; 11. 556 Ibid., 22. 557 “Dabartis ir perspektyvos…”, 1988, 32. 254 Aurimas Švedas

558 Vaitkevičius, 1985, 9. 559 “Lietuvos Tarybų Socialistinė Respublika. Istorija”, 1968, p. 413–425; “Istorija, Lietuvos TSR” [History, Lithuanian SSR], 1986, 64–77; Литовская ССР, 1989, 21–43. 560 “Lietuvos Tarybų Socialistinė Respublika. Istorija”, 1968, 413–425. 561 “Istorija. Lietuvos TSR”, 1986, 64–77. 562 Berlinskienė et al., 1962; 21964; 31966. Later, having changed the syllabus for grades 7–9, the parts written by Jurginis and Pilkauskas on the development of Lithuanian history up to capitalism were removed from the four-author textbook and a separate teaching resource was released: Jurginis, Pilkauskas, 1967. 563 Jurginis, Merkys, 1969; 21970; 31971; 41972; 51973. 564 Jučas, Merkys, 1978; 21980; 31981; 41984; 51986. 565 Gaigalaitė, Žepkaitė, 1969; 101978. Navickas, Žepkaitė, Surblys, 1981; 51988. 566 The titles given to the last interval in the Soviet version of Lithuanian history that started in 1959 differ: in 1969 in the textbook compiled by Gaigalaitė and Žepkaitė, it is called the “Pe- riod of building communism in the Lithuanian SSR”, whilst in the teaching resource released in 1981 it is called “The period of developed socialism in the Lithuanian SSR”. 567 Žiugžda, 1953, 250. 568 Ibid., 83, 129–130, 162. 569 Ibid., 37–38; 46, 55. 570 Ibid., 174, 178, 207, 216. 571 Ibid., 259, 263. 572 Ibid., 127. 134, 135, 223. 573 Ibid., 185, 192, 200, 249. 574 Ibid., 357. 575 Ibid., 159. 576 Ibid., 202–203, 309, 314. 577 Ibid., 257, 300–301, 343. 578 Ibid., 90. 579 Ibid., 355. 580 Vaitkevičius, 1978, 37. 581 Ibid., 49. 582 Ibid., 114. 583 Ibid., 43. 584 Ibid., 108. 585 Ibid., 148. 586 Ibid., 112. 587 Ibid., 123. 588 Vaitkevičius, 1985, 10. 589 Ibid., 133. 590 Ibid., 202. 591 Ibid., 203. 592 Ibid., 231. 593 Jurginis, 1950, 33–36. Before publishing this text, at a political education seminar on Decem- ber 25, 1949 Jurginis read a speech titled “The Marxist periodization of Lithuanian history”: LSA, C. 1233, In. 1233–1, File 2; 127. 594 Jurginis, 1950, 36. 595 Ibid. 596 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 34; 14. Endnotes 255

597 Ibid., 15–16. 598 LSA, C. 1233, In. 1, File 4; 146. 599 LSA, C. 1232, In. 9, File 2; 53. 600 Žiugžda, 1950b, 21–23. 601 LCSA, C. R-1001, In. 2, File 154; 176. 602 The manuscript of the history of Lithuania that Jurginis compiled for foreign readers is kept in the Lithuanian Archives of Literature and Art, in the Jurginis collection: In. 205, File 351. 603 Such was the nature of comments academic Evgeny Zhukov fired at his colleagues on Decem- ber 29, 1966 during the meeting in Vilnius of the USSR Academy of Sciences Social Sciences Section and the Lithuanian, Latvian and Estonian Academies of Sciences Social Sciences departments “On the condition of the social sciences and their future in the Baltics” (LASA, C. 16, In. 1, File 238; 100–101). Similar thoughts were expressed on April 20, 1971 at the Institute of History’s research board’s meeting. 604 LALA, C. 205, In. 1, File 351; 63. 605 Ibid., 56. 606 Ibid., 67–68, 90. 607 Ibid., 63–65. 608 Discussing theses of the all-mighty Russian chauvinist ideology in his memoirs regarding Lith- uania’s history, which researchers of the past were obliged to follow without exception, Jučas noted: “The claim about the progressive joining of all nations to Russia had been announced in the Party Central Committee’s theses and no one was allowed to offer a different explanation. We had even come up with a saying: “The sapper only errs once” [i.e., when laying land mines] (Jučas, 2004, 466). During the interview, Jučas pointed out that this weighty comment was conceived by the Institute’s director, Vaitkevičius. 609 LALA, C. 205, In. 1, File 351; 53. 610 Ibid., 51. 611 Ibid., 14. 612 Ibid., 48. 613 Ibid., 94–97. 614 Ibid., 18. 615 Jurginis, Lukšaitė, 1981. 616 LSA, C. 1233, In. 2, File 98; 52. 617 Gustaitė, 1981, 26–27; Kuzmickas, 1982, 59–61; Maksimaitienė, 1982, 2; Martinaitis, 1982, 4–5; Tyla, 1982, 6; Ulčinaitė, 1982, 174–177; Тyla, 1982, 182. 618 Kosman, 1982, 233–236; Wisner, 1982, 706–708. 619 Barėnas, 1981, 2, 4; Trumpa, 1982a, 21. 620 Trumpa, 1982b, 16. 621 Discussions on the imminent synthesis of cultural history that took place at the Institute of History, as well as on the review process of the impending text, can be found here: LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 355; 159–164; File 427; 9; File 446; 2–6; File 463; 34–35. 622 LCSA, C. R-1016, In. 1, File 355; 160. 623 Ibid., 163. 624 For more, see: Jurginis, 1965b. 625 See: Jurginis, 1976a; 1984a; 1987. 626 See: Jurginis, 1971; 1976b; Jurginis, Šidlauskas, 1983; 1984b. 627 See: Bumblauskas, 1982, 47–65; 1984, 29–49. 628 Bumblauskas, 1994, 73. 629 Bumblauskas, 2006, 15. 256 Aurimas Švedas

630 Interview with Ingė Lukšaitė on July 3, 2006, from the author’s personal archive. 631 Jurginis, Lukšaitė, 1981, 186–193. 632 Ibid., 186. 633 Ibid., 310–333. 634 For definitions of “institutional” and “popular” culture, as well as the concept of “associating factors”, see: Ibid., 187–188. 635 Examples of research on the evolution of factors which comprised the “fabric” of culture could be distinction of the changes in the use of the Lithuanian language (Ibid., 230, 237), and highlighting the changes made to primary and secondary education (Ibid., 242, 250), and so on. 636 Martinaitis, 1982, 5. 637 Interview with Ingė Lukšaitė on July 3, 2006, from the author’s personal archive. 638 Jurginis, Lukšaitė, 1981, 187–188. 639 Ibid., 189. 640 Ibid., 49. 641 Ibid., 63. 642 Ibid., 163. 643 Ibid., 30. 644 Ibid., 31. 645 Ibid., 265–266, 276. 646 Ibid., 238, 249, 257. 647 This was how on June 27, 1958 at a meeting of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) deliberating the matter of Vilnius University rector Juozas Bulavas’ dismissal, the First Secretary of the Central Committee of the LCP (B) Antanas Sniečkus spoke. Having asked the pro-rector Eugenijus Meškauskas: “Why did you not fight against Bulavas’ dangerous tendencies? Surely you were aware of them?”, he heard the reply: “I cannot say”. This response is what prompted Sniečkus to fire a short “lecture” on Marxism at Meškauskas (LSA, Col. 1771, In. 191, File 542; 70). It was this particular concept of Marxism for the most part which made Lithuanian historians so sceptical of it. 648 Norkus, 1996, 162. 649 Bumblauskas, 1999a, 367– 399. 650 Ibid., 375. 651 An overview of texts dedicated to the genesis and evolution of capitalism in Soviet Lithuanian historiography leads to the hypothesis that they too contained attempts at avoiding schematism. This claim is supported by the insights presented in Vytautas Merkys’ doctoral dissertation (Merkys, 1969), the collective study by Leonas Mulevičius and Mečislovas Jučas (Mulevičius, Jučas, 1978), and Jučas’ study (Jučas, 1972). 652 Jurginis, 1962, 10. 653 Ibid., 15. 654 Jučas, 1963, 4; Abramauskas, 1963, 171–174; Ochmański, 1965, 343–346; Pashuto, Jučas, 1965, 450–454. 655 A. Petrika, 1963, 4. 656 LALA, Col. 205, In. 2, File 11; 1. 657 Ibid., File 52; 7. 658 Rimša, 2005, 14. 659 Jurginis, 1962, 5. 660 Ibid., 13. 661 Ibid., 13. 662 Ibid. Endnotes 257

663 Ibid., 10–11. 664 Ibid., 13–14. 665 Ibid., 14. 666 Ibid. 667 Ibid. 668 Ibid., 300–301. 669 LALA, Col. 16, In. 1, File 181; 2. 670 Pashuto, Jučas, 1965, 450. 671 Ochmański, 1965, 436. 672 LALA, Col. 205, In. 1, File 267; 10. 673 Ibid., 16–17. 674 Gudavičius, 1999b. I thank Gudavičius for permitting the use of this manuscript. 675 Ibid. 676 Jurginis, 1962, 264. 677 Jurginis, 1978, 92–101. 678 Jurginis, 1962, 22. 679 Ibid., 25. 680 Ibid., 46. 681 Ibid. 682 Ibid. 683 Ibid. 684 LASA, Col. 16, In. 1, File 181; 1. 685 Kopanev, Nosov, 1964, 157–158. 686 Gudavičius’ Lithuanian and world history model is evident in these works: 1998d; 1999a; Bum- blauskas, Petrauskas, 2002. 687 This concept has been adapted from: Pomorski, 1991, 20. 688 Gudavičius, 1990; 1991, 1993b, 66–69; 1994b, 94–100; 1995, 4–17; 1999c, 10. 12; 11. 12. This conversation is also worth noting: Sakalauskas, 1996, 10–13, 42. 689 Gudavičius, 1971. 690 Ibid., 6. 691 Ibid., 25. 692 Ibid., 42–43. 693 Ibid., 44–45. 694 Ibid., 186. 695 Ibid., 85. 696 Gudavičius, 1979, 95–102; 1980, 55–62; 1983a, 3–11. 697 Gudavičius, 1983b, 82–89. 698 Švedas, 2008b, 181. 699 Ibid., 179–180. 700 Gudavičius, 1979, 98. 701 Ibid., 98–99. 702 Ibid., 100. 703 Ibid., 102. 704 Ibid., 103. 705 Gudavičius, 1983b, 84. 706 Ibid., 87. 707 Gudavičius, 1983a, 7. 708 Ibid., 9. 258 Aurimas Švedas

709 Gudavičius, 1989. 710 See: Gudavičius, 1991, 7; 1994b, 94–100; Sakalauskas, 1996, 10–13, 42; 1997b, 37–39; 1998e, 12. The most important articles listed here and below are published in the collection of works by Gudavičius, “Lietuvos europėjimo keliais” [Along Lithuania’s Paths to Europeanization, 2002]. 711 See: Gudavičius, 1995, 5; 1997b, 38–42; 1998a, 183; 1998e, 12; 1999c, 10. 12; 1999c, 11. 12. 712 See: Gudavičius, 1993a, 62–66; 1993b, 66–69; 1994a, 57–60; 1994b, 94–100; 1995, 4–17; 1998b, 6–72; 1998c, 72–76; 1998a, 182–207. 713 Gudavičius, 1997b, 35–43. 259

REFERENCES

ARCHIVAL MATERIALS

Lithuanian Central State Archive (LCSA) C. 762 Lithuanian SSR Ministry of Education C. R-1001 Academy of Sciences Scientific–Organizational Activities Documents C. R-1016 Institute of History Scientific–Organizational Activities Documents

Lithuanian Archives of Literature and Art (LALA) C. 34 Writers’ Union C. 205 Juozas Jurginis

Lithuanian Special Archives (LSA) C. 1771 Central Committee of the Lithuanian Communist Party (B) C. 1232; C. 1233 Primary Party Organization of the Academy of Sciences C. 10507 Stasys Matulaitis C. 3377 Institute of Party History C. 16895 Antanas Sniečkus C. 17635 Romas Šarmaitis C. 7017 Primary Party Organization of Vilnius University

Library of the Lithuanian Academy of Sciences Manuscript Department (LAS MD) C. 105 Ignas Jonynas C. 129 Povilas Pakarklis C. 275 Juozas Žiugžda

Vilnius Pedagogical University Archive C. 1 Vilnius Pedagogical University Scientific–Organizational Activity Documents

Vilnius University Archive (VUA) C. R-856 Vilnius University Scientific–Organizational Activity Documents

LITERATURE

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INDEX

Abramauskas Stasys 256, 259 Chepko Valentina 163 Abramavičius Girša 68 Cherepnin Lev 213, 243 Afanasjev Jurij 8, 25, 32, 234, 235, 236, 239, 259 Cicero Marcus Tullius 81, 244 Aleksandravičius Egidijus 6, 44, 51, 75, 233, 239, 240, 259, 260 Čekys Juozas 252, 261 Andrejev 139 Čepaitienė Rasa vii, 7, 234, 261 Aničas Jonas 249 Čepas Ričardas 122, 249 Antanaitis Kąstytis 6, 234, 260 Anušauskas Arvydas 234, 240, 247, 251, 260 Dabulevičius Petras 252, 262 Apanavičius Martynas 249 Daniliauskas Antanas 149 Arlauskas Pranas 250 Daujotytė-Pakerienė Viktorija 43 Artobolevski Ivan 252 Daunys Vaidotas 262 Asadauskienė Nelė 271 Davoliūtė Violeta 7, 234, 262 Atamukas Solomonas 239, 260 Dirgėla Petras 262 Avižonis Konstantinas 201 Dybenko Nikolaj 33 Dobrovolskas Jonas 122, 165, 249, 253, 262 Bagušauskas Juozapas Romualdas 251, 252, Donelaitis Kristijonas 88, 245 260 Donskis Leonidas vii Balčikonis Juozas 240 Drėmaitė Marija 6, 234, 262 Baliutytė 6, 234, 260 Driukas A. 68 Barėnas Kazimieras 255, 260 Dundulis Bronius 50, 86, 238, 253, 262 Baron Samuel I. 235, 260 Dziarnovich Aleh 8, 234, 262 Basanavičius Jonas 64, 67, 98, 100, 102, 153, Dzerzhinski Felix 66, 184 242, 270, 275, 276 Becher Ursula 264 Eidintas Alfonsas 6, 233, 234, 262 Bergas Viktoras 149 Engels Friedrich 2, 3, 85, 120, 121, 190, 201, Berlinskienė Aleksandra 254, 260 204–206, 208, 221 Bieliauskas Feliksas 103 Biliūnienė-Matjošaitienė Julija 238, 260 Fukuyama Francis 224 Brazauskas Algirdas 32, 54 Furet François 28, 236, 262 Blium Arlen 260 Broekhuizen Eric vii Gaigalaitė Aldona 6, 39, 51, 146, 233, 237, 239, Bromley Julian 194 240, 242, 243, 252, 254, 260, 262 Bruno 178 Gaižutis Algirdas 234, 263 Bučas Jonas 81 Galvydis Juozas 50 Budrys Dzidas 111 Geda Sigitas 262 Bulavas Juozas 105, 108–111, 113, 114, 163, 246, Gedvilas Mečislovas 102, 136, 246 256, 267 Gentvila-Bičkauskas Leonas 79, 128, 137, 250 Bumblauskas Alfredas vii, 6, 10, 51, 114, 190, Genzelis Bronislavas 6, 129, 159, 273 191, 199, 202, 226, 233–235, 239, 240, 249, Gieda Aurelijus 16, 235, 263 252, 255, 256, 260–262, 264 Gill Graeme 235, 263 Burokevičius Mykolas 55, 241, 261 Girdzijauskas Vytautas 240 Butkevičius Izidorius 146, 148–150, 241, 252, 261 Girdzijauskienė Paulina 152 Butkus Giedrius 146 Girnius Kęstutis 7, 234, 263 Górny Maciej 234, 263 Cesevičius Domas 64 Grabski Andrzej 9, 27, 42, 235, 236, 238, Chien Menaš 37 239, 263 278 Aurimas Švedas Grekov Boris 206, 211, 213 Kafka Franz 58 Griškevičius Petras 32, 153 Kairiūkštis Vytautas 240 Griškūnaitė Eugenija 152 Kalanta Romas 145 Grybkauskas Saulius 6, 234, 263 Kapica Piotr 240 Grunskis Eugenijus 237, 249, 263 Kapsukas Vincas 38 Gudavičius Edvardas 6, 29, 43, 47, 51, 52, 58, Kašauskienė Bronislava 267 73, 121, 125, 143, 199, 200, 205–207, 209– Kašauskienė Vanda 35, 237, 246, 250, 267 215, 221, 226, 227, 238, 240, 244, 257, 258, Kazlauskas Antanas 248, 267 261, 263, 264, 271, 273 Kemp Walter 8, 234, 267 Gunda Béla 194 Kęstutis 30 Gurevich Aron 44, 239, 264 Khrushchev Nikita 104, 112, 240, 265 Gustaitė Genovaitė 255, 264 Kilikevičienė Giedrė 249 Kleinas S. 249 Heer Nancy Whittier 235, 260, 264 Klimas Petras 19 Klumbys Valdemaras 7, 233, 234, 267 Ivan III 84 Kmita Rimantas 6, 234, 267 Ivanauskas Tadas 240 Kołakowski Leszek 235, 267 Ivanauskas Vilius 6, 234, 265 Kondakov Piotr 242 Ivanovs Aleksandrs 9, 234, 265 Kondratas Zigmas 251, 267 Ivaškevičius Marius 229 Koniuchov Grigorij 109, 126, 242, 249, 253, Ivinskis Zenonas 6, 16, 18, 19, 159, 168, 201, 268 233, 235, 245, 252, 253, 261, 265 Konrad Nikolaj 190 Korsakas Kostas 63, 72, 92, 161, 243 Yekelchyk Serhy 9, 234, 275 Kosman Marceli 255, 268 Krapauskas Virgil 235, 268 Jablonskis Konstantinas 50, 51, 61, 77, 78, 81, Krasnovas Aleksandras 172, 262 83–87, 103, 111, 160, 219, 240, 245, 265, 266, Kubilius Jonas 32 269, 271 Kubilius Vytautas 6, 233, 234, 240, 268 Jacunski Viktor 243 Kudirka 65, 98, 100, 102 Jakaitienė Julija 246, 265 Kuhn Thom 10, 123, 235, 249, 268 Jakštas Juozas 19, 235, 265 Kula Witold 239 Janulaitis Augustinas 61, 79, 80, 83, 87, 103, Kulakauskas Antanas vii, 43, 51, 233, 234, 238, 219, 237, 269 240, 260, 262 Jarmalavičius Juozas 233, 241, 265 Kulikauskas Pranas 85, 130, 168, 253, 268 Jasas Rimas 233, 265 Kundera Milan 226 Jefremenka Aleksandras 249 Kutorgienė Zoja 84, 85, 109 Jegelevičius Sigitas vii, 34, 36, 38, 125, 237, 273 Kuzmickas Bronius 255, 268 Jonynas Ignas 50, 51, 61, 77–79, 81–84, 87, 103, Kvieskienė Giedrė 268 160, 161, 219, 237, 240, 244, 259, 265 Jučas Mečislovas 6, 29, 49, 50, 74, 83, 87, 88, 144, Lasinskas Povilas 235, 268 154, 157, 168, 176, 189, 205, 209, 233, 238–240, Lašas Vladas 240 243, 250, 254–257, 265, 266, 270, 273 Laurinaitis Statys 233, 241, 268 Juozaitis Arvydas 248, 266 Laurinavičius Česlovas 234, 268 Jurginienė Dalia 251, 252 Lazutka Stanislovas 47, 52, 172 Jurginis Julius 56, 77, 131, 144, 184, 203, 251, Leimontienė Irena 139 252 Lempertas Izraelis 122, 123, 274 Jurginis Juozas 25, 29, 33, 35, 47, 49, 51, 53, 56, Lenin Vladimir 36, 44, 85, 120 71, 77, 78, 84, 85, 95, 103, 107–111, 118, 124– Leonov A. 64, 70 126, 128–144, 147, 154, 159, 164, 169, 170, Levitatsas Faivas 81, 82 175, 176, 183–192, 194, 195, 199–211, 220, Liaudis Kazimieras 242 221, 233, 235, 238–240, 243, 244, 246, 249, Liekis Šarūnas vii 250–257, 259, 260, 264, 266, 267, 271, 275 Lindner Rainer 8, 234, 268 Index 279 Liščinskis Kazimieras 266 Ochmański Jerzy 205, 256, 257, 270 Łowmiański Henryk 264 Lubytė Elona 6, 234, 269 Pakarklis Povilas 61, 72, 88–93, 103, 105, 168, Lukoševičius Jonas 41 219, 239, 245, 246, 259, 271, 272 Lukšaitė Ingė 150, 189–195, 221, 238, 252, 255, Paleckis Justas 34, 41, 54, 62, 67, 91, 97–105, 256, 260, 267, 269 137, 219, 238, 239, 242, 246, 247, 265, 267, Lukšienė Meilė 238, 260 269, 270 Pashuto Vladimir 74, 85, 139, 205, 206, 211, Macevičius Jonas 105, 107, 109 213, 244, 256, 257, 270 Mačiuika Benediktas 233, 269 Pavlovski Jevgenij 243 Maksimaitienė Ona 249, 255, 269 Peskovski A. 139 Maldonis Alfonsas 57 Petrauskas Rimvydas 234, 257, 261, 269 Marcinkevičienė Dalia 235, 269 Petrika Antanas 256, 271 Marcinkevičius Justinas 133, 241 Petrulis Kostas 85 Mardosa Jonas 238 Petrulis Vaidas 6, 234, 262 Markwick Roger 9, 235, 269 Pilkauskas Zenonas 254, 260, 266 Martinaitis Marcelijus 193, 255, 256, 269 Pimenov Vladimir 238 Marx Karl 2, 3, 44, 83, 85, 120, 121, 199, 204, Plečkaitis Romanas 6, 273 221 Pocius Algirdas 262 Masliichuk Volodymyr 9, 234, 269 Pokrovsky Mikhail 106 Matulaitis Stasys 62, 63, 84, 88, 92–97, 103, Portnov Andryi 9, 234, 269, 271 105, 108–110, 118, 219, 242, 246, 259 Požėla Juras 27 Matulis Juozas 26, 27, 35, 40, 62, 63, 79, 84, 88, Pretorijus Motiejus 88 89, 91, 93, 110, 112–114, 117, 136, 237, 239, Pšibilskis Bronius 234, 245, 271 240, 250, 262, 269 Pupeikis Stasys 68 Mazour Anatol 235, 269 Putinaitė Nerija 7, 234, 271 Merkys Vytautas 6, 29, 45, 47, 49, 50, 51, 75, Puzinavičius Bronius 6, 234, 271 87, 88, 123, 151, 166, 168, 176, 202, 233, 238– 240, 243–245, 249, 250, 252, 254, 256, 259, Ragauskas Aivas 6, 233, 271 260, 262, 265, 266, 269 Raguotis Antanas 241 Meškauskas Eugenijus 105, 107, 108, 163, 256 Rakūnas Algirdas 68, 249, 250, 253, 262 Meškauskienė Michalina 101 Ranke Leopold von 15, 33, 49, 240 Mickevičius Juozas 105, 107 Rekešius Jonas 249 Milius Vaclovas 64, 149, 168, 242, 252, 253 Rimša Edmundas 256, 271 Mindaugas 133, 208, 241, 264 Rodin Mikhail 105, 106 Misiūnas Romas 234, 269 Ruokis Viktoras 240 Mitaitė Donata 234, 260 Rüsen Jorn 10, 235, 264, 271 Mizara Rojus 251, 269 Mykolaitis-Putinas Vincas 111 Sabonis Arvydas 239, 241, 271 Morkūnas Vitalis 147, 149, 238 Sakalauskas Tomas 257, 258, 271 Mulevičius Leonas 238, 256, 266 Savukynas Bronys 6, 29, 243, 245, 273 Selenis Valdas 6, 16, 233, 235, 245, 272 Naujikas Vidas 32, 34, 158 Serczyk Władysław 239 Navickas Konstantinas 152, 239, 247, 254, 270 Sideravičius Kazys 109, 110 Nechkina Milica 270 Sidorova Liubov 8, 234, 240, 241, 247, 272 Neupokojevas Valentinas 89 Slaviūnas Zenonas 47 Nikžentaitis Alvydas 234, 235, 240, 270 Sliesoriūnas Feliksas 192, 249 Niunka Vladas 68, 99, 101, 103, 107, 108, 147, Smetonas Antanas 18, 63–65, 81, 92 246, 270 Smotricki Meletius 182 Noreikienė Sigita 270 Sniečkus Antanas 30, 34, 66–68, 70, 79–82, Norkus Zenonas 256, 270 84, 89, 96, 99, 101–103, 106, 107, 112, 113, Novoselcev Anatolij 213 117, 118, 134, 137, 139, 144, 145, 146, 148, 159, 280 Aurimas Švedas 162, 168, 242, 246, 248, 249, 251, 252, 256, Vaineikytė Liuda 62 259, 274 Vaiseta Tomas 7, 234, 274 Sprindytė Jūratė 6, 234, 272 Vaitiekus Severinas 238 Stalin Joseph 85, 98, 104, 143, 160, 260, 275 Vaitkevičius Bronius 31, 36, 46, 49, 146–148, Staliūnas Darius 234, 269, 272 151–153, 164, 171, 188, 190, 233, 236, 241, Stašaitis Stanislovas 234, 237, 272 253–255, 274, 275 Stobiecki Rafał 9, 157, 235, 236, 239, 252, 272 Vaitkūnas Algirdas 48, 50, 51 Stražas Abelis 249 Vaitkūnas Arvydas 66, 86, 239, 240 Streikus Arūnas 6, 7, 234, 251, 252, 260, 272 Vaitkus Juozas 172 Surblys Konstantinas 254, 270 Valikonytė Irena 43, 52, 57, 239, 240, 241 Sverdlov V. 121, 122, 249 Varakauskas Rokas 250 Varašinskas Kazys 142 Šadžius Henrikas 147, 239, 243, 249, 272, 276 Vėbra Rimantas 56 Šapoka Adolfas 17, 19–21, 158, 159, 164, 184, Venclova Antanas 62 187, 224, 235, 263, 267, 268, 272, 273, 274 Venclova Tomas 227, 228 Šarmaitis Romas 32, 33, 36, 37, 41, 55, 100, Vijūkas-Kojelavičius Albertas 191 101, 105, 107, 108, 123, 126, 139, 143, 149, Viliūnas Giedrius 234, 238, 275 169, 189, 190, 237, 241, 249, 251, 259, 268, Visockis Albinas 49 273 Vykintas Stepas 242, 275 Šepetys Lionginas 118, 130, 134, 241, 249, Vymerytė Margarita 85 250, 273 Vyšniauskaitė Angelė 75, 125, 148, 249 Šepetys Nerijus 234, 261, 267 Vyšniauskas Arūnas 6, 233, 251, 275 Ševelovičiūtė P. 237 Vytautas the Great 30 Šidlauskas Algirdas 51, 240, 249, 250, 255, Vladimirov Lev 68 267 Volkaitė-Kulikauskienė Regina 189 Šimkus Jonas 246 Volkov A. 64 Šiškienė Aldona 250, 267 Voverienė Ona 240, 275 Šležas Paulius 19 Štaras Povilas 107 Wierzbicki Andrzej 235, 275 Štromas Aleksandras 7, 234, 273 Wisner Henryk 255, 275 Šukys Aurimas 7, 234, 273 Šumauskas Motiejus 34, 140–144, 154, 251, Zaborskaitė Vanda 6, 55, 63, 189, 241, 243, 273 273, 275 Švedas Aurimas 7, 233, 234, 236, 237, 239– Zalejko Gwidon 9, 10, 11, 31, 235, 236, 239, 245, 249, 250, 251, 252, 257, 273 275 Zelenov Mikhail 239, 275 Taagepera Rein 234, 269 Zemlickas Gediminas 243 Tamošiūnas Mindaugas 41, 122, 123, 249, 274 Zimanas Genrikas 39, 90, 121, 123 Tarvydas Stanislovas 235 Zinkus Jonas 107 Taurinskas Vladas 244 Zhukov Evgeny 255 Terentjeva Lyudmila 73, 243 Tichomirov Mikhail 243, 274 Žepkaitė Regina 239, 254, 262, 270, 275 Tininis Vytautas 234, 242, 244, 248, 274 Žiugžda Juozas 29, 35, 36, 39, 47, 61–75, 77, Tyla Antanas 6, 29, 51, 148, 150–154, 170, 207, 78, 83–85, 88, 89, 91–96, 99, 103, 107–114, 235, 238, 249, 252, 255, 269, 273, 274 119, 125, 127, 130, 134, 136, 137, 145, 159, 161, Topolski Jerzy 239 162, 165, 168, 173, 174, 177, 181, 184, 185, Tornau Jurgis 105, 247 219, 220, 235, 236, 237, 239, 242–244, 246, Trumpa Vincas 189, 245, 255, 274 248, 251–255, 259, 268, 272, 275, 276 Tutlytė Jūratė 6, 234, 262 Žiugžda Robertas 172, 237 Žukas Saulius 262 Ulčinaitė Eugenija 255, 274 Žukas Vladas 83, 244, 276 Ustiugov Nikolaj 243