One Single, Marvelous Instant

And me, I thought, all my life I’ve been journeying towards the moment when I would soar up over the crowds of what the slogans called the workers and the peasants, the soldiers and the intelligentsia, and now here I am hanging in brilliant blackness on the invisible threads of fate and trajectory...*

Just one pure and honest soul is enough for our country to take the lead in the conquest of space; just one pure soul is enough for the banner of triumphant socialism to be unfurled on the surface of the distant Moon. But there must be one pure soul, if only for a moment, because the banner will be unfurled within that soul....*

This month we celebrate the 36th anniversary of the flight of Russia’s ‘Christopher Columbus of space’– Yuri Gagarin, a man who in his own lifetime was both part myth, and wholly mortal; the first man in space, he tragically perished at the age of 34, in a seemingly-innocuous flying accident.

By the time of his death, Gagarin was a socialist hero, a man of the future, born and raised in a country of peasants and workers, which had beaten the capitalists to the final frontier, and who, by his very life, seemed to give weight to the communists’ arrogant claim that “your children will one day live in socialism.”

But Gagarin was much more than simply a living tool of propaganda. In fact, he was the smiling, earthly incarnation of all those thousands of young people who, from  childhood on, were spellbound by the sky, the stars and the universe as a whole. While many others left their dreams behind for the dreary reality of adulthood, Gagarin remained faithful to his desires, dedicating his whole life to making them come true. He studied and worked, obtaining in return for his devotion and commitment, the chance to be the first man in space.

Gagarin’s famous “Let’s go!” (poyekhali) prior to lift-off into space, was an invitation, as if he were saying to all of us left behind on Earth: “Let’s do it! Let’s go achieve our life’s dream!” And we all felt certain that one day space would be available to us too, just like any point of the globe. No wonder the entire world applauded Gagarin, calling him a “citizen of the Earth.”

But who was this citizen of the Earth, Yuri Gagarin? In his military evaluation he was described thus: “his favorite word is ‘to work.’ His mood is usually on the high side and he has a very good sense of humor, given to laughter. At the same time, he has a sober, cold-blooded mind. Gagarin is gifted with boundless self-command. Developed in a very harmonious way. Sincere and outspoken. Clean in his soul and body. Polite, discreet, neat. Modest. Very high level of intellectual  development. Remark-able memory. Gagarin is not afraid to stand by his point of view if he is convinced it is the right one.”

Yuri Gagarin was born in the village of Klushino, near the town of Gzhatsk (later renamed Gagarin in 1968). When Gagarin was about to begin school, World War II broke out. Since all the nearby villages were occupied by the Nazis, his schooling was delayed until after the liberation of Gzhatsk in 1943. In 1945, the family moved to Gzhatsk, where Gagarin continued on with his education. Upon graduating from the 7th grade, he enrolled in a professional craft school, before moving onto an industrial technical college. While continuing to study at the technical college, in 1954, Gagarin studied aviation at the Saratov-based air-center. The next year, he graduated from the technical college with special honors and was sent to an aviation school in Orenburg. Two years later, in November 1957, he graduated from the Orenburg school with the rank of lieutenant and was sent to serve in the North. In 1959, he was picked as the best pilot of his unit and summoned to Moscow. In March, 1960 Gagarin was chosen to be a member of the final cosmonaut squad and 13 months later, on April 12, 1961, he was sent into space.

Yuri Gagarin’s last year prior to this flight was his most difficult. Besides a demanding routine of study and training, he and every other member of the USSR cosmonaut squad was continually admonished that, though “thousands are being trained for the flight, only one candidate will fly.” Their only hope for being picked lay in fitting the head of the Cosmonauts’ Center, Nikolai Kamanin’s description of “a man who embodies the highest spiritual achievements of his people.”

On April 12, 1961, at 6.50 AM, the man who embodied his people’s highest spiritual accomplishments, Yuri Gagarin, said in a statement to the radio and press: “all my life seems to me like one single marvelous instant. All that I’ve done so far was for the sake of this very minute”.

Tragically, Gagarin’s “single marvelous moment” was woefully brief. In 1968, his plane crashed after a test flight, and the strange yet fatal accident caused many speculations and rumors. Even after the Soviet government’s air-safety commission issued a statement regarding the plane’s technical malfunctions, having meticulously researched the causes of the plane crash and carefully inspected the site of the accident, many people were unable to believe that Earth’s first cosmonaut was really dead.

Astrologers and psychics ominously ordained that, by definition, the fate of astronauts is doomed because they violate the sky’s sacred border. Others speculated darkly that he had a double...

Perhaps, in the end, the enduring mystique of Gagarin’s life and death is due to his status as socialist cult icon: a figure to be mocked and admired, degraded and revered. Like America’s continuing fascination with JFK, Russia needs Yuri Gagarin’s boyish smile and effortless victory in the space race as a charm to ward away the country’s present-day evils and humiliations. Gagarin was the Soviet Union’s bright and shining youth, their greatest shock-worker, proof that the Russians could out-sweat America, the capitalist giant. Or, as Yuri Gagarin himself put it: “my life makes sense only as long as it serves my people.”

Brief Items

The 15th century Russian name for the fourth month, tsveten, has long since given way to the familiar word, April, descended from either the Latin word aprecus (to warm by the sun), or the verb, aperire, which means to open, i.e. the image of nature opening after the long silence of winter. Photos by Great Encyclopedia of Russia.

April is a month rich in writers and soldiers, priests and philosophers who, while serving Russia, shaped the country and culture in their own heroic images.

Seven hundred and fifty-five years ago, on April 5th, 1242, Russia’s legendary hero, Alexander Nevsky, led Russian troops to victory against German Crusaders on the iced-over Chudskoye river. Some 400 people died in the fighting and 50 others were taken prisoners. The next year, in 1243, German knights sent a mission of peaceful ambassadors to Novgorod, renouncing any claims to the Russian territory.

One hundred eighty-five years ago, on April 6, 1812, the internationally famous figure, Alexander Hertzen was born. Hertzen (1812-1870), who eventually “stood on the path to revolution,” was the illegitimate son of the rich landowner, Yakovlev. Strongly influenced by Russia’s Decembrists and their tragic, if noble, fate, Hertzen began to get involved in revolutionary activity while still a student at Moscow University. His revolutionary interests got him arrested in 1834 and exiled to Siberia for six years. In 1847, he emigrated to England where he continued to make an infamous name for himself by publishing the radical magazine, Kolokol (The Bell), as well as helping to found the terrorist group Land & Liberty in 1861. He died in Paris and was buried in Nice.

Ninety-five years ago, on April 6, 1902, the populist writer Gleb Ivanovich Uspensky (1843-1902) died. Uspensky holds a special place in Russian literature for his sympathetic portrayals of village life. His essays and short stories include: From a Village Diary; Peasants and Peasant Labor; Power of the Land and other classics.

Three hundred and fifteen years ago, on April 14, 1682, the celebrated Archpriest Avvakum (1620-1682) was burned alive at the stake. In the 17th century, the once-mighty Muscovite Church split into two fiercely antagonistic divisions: the Old Believers vs. those willing to remain within the reformed Church. The controversy originated because, over a long period of time, errors in translation from the original Greek had crept into some Muscovite texts of the Bible. When some elite Orthodox leaders, as well as Tsar Mikhail, urged “a higher, spiritual tone and greater decorum to various ecclesiastical functions,” including a new sign of the cross, the corrected spelling of Jesus’ name etc., shocked Old Believers rejected the changes as heresies signaling the imminent end of the world. Since any rejection of the Church’s changes included an inevitable rejection of the Church itself, persecution of the Old Believers began in earnest. The Old Believers were determined to keep everything as their fathers and grandfathers had it. To that end, between 1672 and 1691, over twenty-thousand Old Believers burned themselves to death. The charismatic Archpriest Avvakum, a passionate Old Believer, played an important role in the raging debate with the publication of his highly-religious Autobiography. He rebelled against the Church with such force that he inspired countless Old Believers to remain true to their faith at any price.

On April 30th, 1642, 355 years ago, Prince Dmitry Pozharsky (1578-1642) died. Pozharsky, a highly-regarded military hero, was one of the leaders in the battle against Polish interventionists in October 1611. This decisive fight was immortalized in Glinka’s popular opera, Life for the Tsar. Prince Pozharsky expelled the Poles from Russia, with the help of Kozma Minin, and the Russian people expressed their deep gratitude by building a monument in their honor on Red Square in 1818.

In this month’s issue we also celebrate the 135th anniversary of Pyotr Stolypin’s birth (See story beginning on page 16 of this issue).