The Cost of Conscience

Alexander Galich (real name – Ginzburg), actor, playwright and poet, died in exile in Paris in 1977. His early death was brought on by a tragic accident – he was electrocuted while trying to fix a stereo system – and he was buried at Sainte- Genevieve-des-Bois cemetery, alongside other famous Russians who died far from their homeland – Ivan Bunin, Dmitry Merezhkovsky, Viktor Nekrasov and Andrei Tarkovsky. The inscription on his black tombstone reads: “Blessed are those banished for the sake of the truth.”

Alexander Ginzburg was born on October 19, 1918, into the family of an economist and a musician. He inherited his mother’s passion for theatre and music and entered the Literary Institute, joining Konstantin Stanislavsky’s Studio of Opera and Drama the same year.

From the 1940s to the middle of the 1960s, Galich’s name was primarily associated with plays and film scripts. He had a heart condition which prevented him from going to the front, but he saw the horrors of World War II while giving concerts in hospital trains for the wounded. By the 1950s, Galich had become a successful and popular playwright and was admitted to the Unions of Soviet Writers and Cinematographers. He wrote scripts for various films, including the comedy Reliable Friends, and the WWII film In the Seven Winds.

In 1958, Galich’s life began to change direction. His play, “Matrosskaya Tishina,” was banned after its first dress rehearsal, as described later in his autobiographical book, The Final Dress Rehearsal. The guardians of Soviet Culture had declared that the main character of a soviet play could not be a Jew. Galich’s work had been criticized or shelved before, but now the authorities “pricked up their ears.” They soon realized that Galich’s glib smile concealed a deep, inner discord.

After Khrushchev was deposed, his “Thaw” in culture and the arts came to an abrupt end. Creative individuals like Galich were faced with a choice – to remain a successful conformist or to speak out against the regime. In one of his later interviews, Galich said of this time, “After all, I was nearly 50 at the time; I was tired of being a soviet toady and wanted to speak my mind.”

In Russia today, Galich is known more as a bard and author of dissident poems and songs than as a playwright. He was one of several famous bards (e.g. Bulat Okudzhava, Vladimir Vysotsky and others) who created a “second culture.” Amateur forms of culture began to play an important role in public life: friends gathered in one another’s flats not only to relax and have a good time, but also to discuss politics and to listen to the bards. It was at such gatherings that Alexander Galich sang his satirical “author’s songs” about officialdom and his dramatic ballads devoted to the memory of outstanding Russians victimized under Stalin. Galich was not allowed to give official concerts. Instead, he sang unofficially – in clubs, tiny concert halls, research institutes, university departments and in the homes of friends. Some of his songs (e.g. “Lenochka,” “The Red Triangle,” “Ave Maria,” “Karaganda” and many others) became very popular in opposition (and often even non-opposition) circles. thanks to homemade tape recordings made by fans in “home concerts” and surreptitiously spread throughout the country, hand-to-hand.

The authorities did not pay much attention to Galich until March 1968, when they saw something that frightened them to their totalitarian core. The occasion was a festival of bards’ songs held in Novosibirsk, a large scientific center. There, Galich sang his song, “To the Memory of Boris Pasternak,” for the first time. When he performed the song, the audience rose, silently expressing their solidarity with the author, a love for the outstanding novelist, and hatred for those who had harassed him.

Needless to say, the Powers That Be were outraged by the song and the audience’s reaction. Galich was accused of all sorts of “anti-soviet sins” and promptly expelled from the Writers’ and Cinematographers’ Unions. His scripts were turned down everywhere, and he was denied virtually any opportunity to earn his living. The once successful author was forced to sell off his library and to ask for payment for his “home concerts.” By this time, he had had several bad heart attacks and the future looked very bleak.

In 1974, Galich was given an exit visa and forced to leave the country. When he departed, he took along only a copy of Pushkin’s works and his guitar. The airport customs officers refused to allow Galich to take out the crucifix he wore around his neck. It was made of gold, and of course gold could not be taken from the USSR. In response, the bard refused to leave without his cross. Frightened, the officials backed down and Galich left with the crucifix.

For the next three years, Galich’s compatriots would hear him only occasionally over the airwaves, courtesy of Radio Liberty. In his last radio program, on December 15, 1977, four days before his death, Galich sent New Year’s greetings to his friends in the Soviet Union: “Our country is amazingly rich and generous. Its mineral wealth includes every element of Mendeleyev’s Table. Only one element is lacking – happiness. I wish that someone would add this element – happiness – to Mendeleyev’s Table, because we have the right to be happy.”

Galich’s play, “Matrosskaya Tishina,” was staged in 1993, with Vladimir Mashkov in the lead role, and it is being made into a feature film by Mosfilm, to be released in 2004.