Pope,’ said Dimiter.
‘I want to see him shot,’ said Atanas.
‘I want to know about the Politburo’s privileges,’ said Dimiter.
‘I want to know how much we owe, each of us,’ said Stefan.
‘ Takka-takka-takka ,’ went Atanas. ‘ Takka-takka-takka .’
The week before Criminal Law Case Number 1 opened in the Supreme Court, former President Stoyo Petkanov sent an open letter to the National Assembly. He intended to promote his own defence vigorously, both to the people and to the parliament, on television and in the press, until such time as the fascist tendencies currently at work succeeded in gagging him. The text of his letter ran as follows:
Esteemed National Representatives,
Certain circumstances compel me to address this letter to you. These circumstances lead me to believe that certain people want to turn me into a means of achieving their own political interests and personal ambitions. I would like to declare that I will not play into the hands of any political group.
As far as I know, a single head of state has been tried and convicted in modern history so far: Emperor Bokassa in Africa (who was convicted) for conspiracy, murders and cannibalism. I will be the second case.
As to my personal responsibility, I can tell you even now, fully aware and having summed my life up after long contemplation, that as this country’s party leader and head of state for 33 years I bear the greatest political responsibility for everything done. Did the good things outnumber the bad things, did we live in darkness and hopelessness during all those years, did mothers give birth to children, were we calm or anxious, did the people have any goals and ideals: I have no right to judge all this myself now.
The answers to all these questions can only come from our own people and our history. I am sure that they will be stern judges. I am convinced, however, that they will be fair too, categorically rejecting both political nihilism and total denigration.
I have done everything in the belief that it was good for my country. I have made mistakes along the way, but I have not committed crimes against my people. It is for these mistakes that I accept political responsibility.
3rd January
Respectfully yours,
Stoyo Petkanov
Like most of his contemporaries, Peter Solinsky had grown up within the Party. A Red Pioneer, a Young Socialist, and then a full party member, he had received his card shortly before his father fell victim to one of Petkanov’s routine purges and was exiled to the country. There had been sour words between them at first, since Peter, with all theauthority of youth, knew that the Party was always greater than the individual, and that this applied in his father’s case as in anyone else’s. Peter himself had naturally fallen under suspicion for a while; and he acknowledged in those clouded days that marriage to the daughter of a hero in the Anti-Fascist Struggle had given him some protection. Slowly, he had regained favour with the Party; once, they had even sent him to Turin as part of a trade delegation. They had issued him with foreign currency and told him to spend it; he had felt privileged. Maria, understandably, had not been permitted to accompany him.
At forty, he had been appointed professor of law at the capital’s second university. The apartment in Friendship 3 had then seemed luxurious; they owned a small car and a cottage in the Ostova woods; they had limited but regular access to the Special Shops. Angelina, their daughter, was cheerful, spoiled, and happy at being spoiled. What made these solutions to life insufficient? What had turned him – as Truth had put it only that morning – into a political parricide?
Looking back, he supposed that it had started with Angelina, with her whys . Not the confident, ritualistic whys of a four-year-old (why is it Sunday? why are we going? why is it a taxi?) but the considered, tentative whys of a child of ten. Why were there so many soldiers
‘I want to see him shot,’ said Atanas.
‘I want to know about the Politburo’s privileges,’ said Dimiter.
‘I want to know how much we owe, each of us,’ said Stefan.
‘ Takka-takka-takka ,’ went Atanas. ‘ Takka-takka-takka .’
The week before Criminal Law Case Number 1 opened in the Supreme Court, former President Stoyo Petkanov sent an open letter to the National Assembly. He intended to promote his own defence vigorously, both to the people and to the parliament, on television and in the press, until such time as the fascist tendencies currently at work succeeded in gagging him. The text of his letter ran as follows:
Esteemed National Representatives,
Certain circumstances compel me to address this letter to you. These circumstances lead me to believe that certain people want to turn me into a means of achieving their own political interests and personal ambitions. I would like to declare that I will not play into the hands of any political group.
As far as I know, a single head of state has been tried and convicted in modern history so far: Emperor Bokassa in Africa (who was convicted) for conspiracy, murders and cannibalism. I will be the second case.
As to my personal responsibility, I can tell you even now, fully aware and having summed my life up after long contemplation, that as this country’s party leader and head of state for 33 years I bear the greatest political responsibility for everything done. Did the good things outnumber the bad things, did we live in darkness and hopelessness during all those years, did mothers give birth to children, were we calm or anxious, did the people have any goals and ideals: I have no right to judge all this myself now.
The answers to all these questions can only come from our own people and our history. I am sure that they will be stern judges. I am convinced, however, that they will be fair too, categorically rejecting both political nihilism and total denigration.
I have done everything in the belief that it was good for my country. I have made mistakes along the way, but I have not committed crimes against my people. It is for these mistakes that I accept political responsibility.
3rd January
Respectfully yours,
Stoyo Petkanov
Like most of his contemporaries, Peter Solinsky had grown up within the Party. A Red Pioneer, a Young Socialist, and then a full party member, he had received his card shortly before his father fell victim to one of Petkanov’s routine purges and was exiled to the country. There had been sour words between them at first, since Peter, with all theauthority of youth, knew that the Party was always greater than the individual, and that this applied in his father’s case as in anyone else’s. Peter himself had naturally fallen under suspicion for a while; and he acknowledged in those clouded days that marriage to the daughter of a hero in the Anti-Fascist Struggle had given him some protection. Slowly, he had regained favour with the Party; once, they had even sent him to Turin as part of a trade delegation. They had issued him with foreign currency and told him to spend it; he had felt privileged. Maria, understandably, had not been permitted to accompany him.
At forty, he had been appointed professor of law at the capital’s second university. The apartment in Friendship 3 had then seemed luxurious; they owned a small car and a cottage in the Ostova woods; they had limited but regular access to the Special Shops. Angelina, their daughter, was cheerful, spoiled, and happy at being spoiled. What made these solutions to life insufficient? What had turned him – as Truth had put it only that morning – into a political parricide?
Looking back, he supposed that it had started with Angelina, with her whys . Not the confident, ritualistic whys of a four-year-old (why is it Sunday? why are we going? why is it a taxi?) but the considered, tentative whys of a child of ten. Why were there so many soldiers
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