The late 1980s was a particularly emotional time in Lithuania. Gorbachev's proclaimed policy of perestroika stirred the Sąjūdis reform movement and ambitions to restore independence. Such an intense period of time can only be a brief one – the high emotional temperature focused everyone to speak with one voice and act in unison, to create a unified Baltic path.
Writers and artists joined Sąjūdis demonstrations and were among the most important speakers at the gatherings, while some were even elected to the first democratic parliament – the Supreme Council. At the time, it was most important to reiterate what had been forbidden to be spoken aloud, and that reiteration had a strong emotional charge.
Philosopher Arūnas Sverdiolas remembers:
It was important to hear everything said publicly – even the most banal, widely known things. When [philosopher and Olympic swimmer] Arvydas Juozaitis first spoke about 'the trampling occupier's boot' in a packed hall, these were words of unimaginable intensity, even though everyone knew about it. But everyone, or almost everyone, had been silent about it. Exposing even the most basic things at that time took precedence over all other intellectual endeavors. „Intelektualų vaidmuo atkuriant Lietuvos valstybę“. Egidijaus Aleksandravičiaus, Kęstučio Griniaus, Kęstučio Nastopkos, Arūno Sverdiolo, Kornelijaus Platelio pokalbis, Literatūra ir menas, 2012-03-09.
Writers were a trusted authority in society, speaking and writing with great influence, and therefore, for a short while, they were among the most prominent political figures. Later, when times called for more pragmatic politics, they felt deceived and used. In 1991, at the height of political passions, the poet Tomas Venclova accused Justinas Marcinkevičius of writing his short story The Pine That Laughed based on material received from the KGB. From then on, Justinas Marcinkevičius, who was such a great public authority figure, withdrew from active public life.
Perestroika's persistent call for openness fundamentally impacted literature. The opportunity to engage in open and public speech gradually stripped away the relevance of Aesopic language and the creation of fictitious worlds. For a time, suppressed and painful stories and the taboos of the present day became all important.
Journalist and prose writer Liudvikas Gadeikis wrote:
Exile is our living wound. We were being taught to live as if it did not exist, as if it no longer brought pain. The illusion was being consistently created that this was a thing of the past. Buried for decades, it seemed to be withdrawing from our own memories, from the stories we told. New generations had an ever murkier understanding of the horrors of the past. Liudvikas Gadeikis, „Tremties archyvas“, Pergalė, 1989, Nr. 1, p. 185.
Writer and literary scholar Vytautas Martinkus asked:
Is it not paradoxical that, having supported a revolution "in the name of openness", we continue to have doubts: should we publish environmental monitoring data or not? Do we need to publish the lists of Stalinist victims or not? It is also strange to me that, as a delegate, I have been given at this very conference a statistical catalog with a very old-fashioned seal on it... Vytautas Martinkus, „Klausimai po atsakymų. Mintys po XIX sąjunginės partinės konferencijos“, Pergalė, 1988, Nr. 10, p. 6.
This period saw the restoration of many Lithuanian cultural and literary publications from the inter-war period: Naujasis Židinys-Aidai (1991), Naujoji Romuva (1994), as well as the creation of new publications: Sietynas (1988– 1991), Šiaurės Atėnai (1990), 7 meno dienos (1992), while the Autumn of Poetry in Druskininkai developed beyond just a group of like-minded writers to become an international poetry festival.
Read more: Tomas Venclova, The Druskininkai Group.
|
Comments
Write a comment