12-19-07, 9:28 am
Editor's Note: Alfred Rubiks is the former leader of the Communist Party of Latvia. When Latvia broke away from the Soviet Union in 1991, the nationalist political leaders unilaterally banned the Communist Party and imprisoned Rubiks. This is his story of those events. The interview was conducted by John Bachtell, a member of the national board of the Communist Party USA, during the November international meeting of communist and workers' parties celebrating the 90th anniversary of the 1917 Revolution in Russia.
PA: We’re very interested in the struggle that you have been waging in Latvia. Could you talk about your imprisonment after Latvia's break with the Soviet Union?
Alfred Rubiks: By the end of 1990, it was quite obvious that the Soviet Union, as it was then, would not last long. At the time I was a member of the Politburo of the Soviet Communist Party, which was elected under Gorbachev several months before. Most people, including myself, felt that Russia was fidgeting, falling between two chairs, so to speak, that it did not know what it actually wanted and was being rather vague and evasive. A group of us actually called on Gorbachev one day and asked him to explain, in two or three sentences what he wanted and what perestroika meant after all. We would read his lengthy speeches, and some contained two or three points, some, say, seven points, and some contained nothing at all. So we demanded from him the essence, the gist of what he was going to do, and what he had been doing. But he wouldn’t explain. He just retorted sharply and placed us in a rather humiliating light, saying that we were poor, illiterate people who didn’t understand anything, and he simply refused to explain. Then we realized that he really did not want to explain himself, he didn’t want to elaborate – and that behind the fog and behind his vagueness, there were certain political aims that were only clear to him.
Things became clearer when, soon afterwards, the so-called Union Treaty of the new Soviet Union emerged, the treaty for the union of independent sovereign states. At the next Congress of People’s Deputies we – that is, all those deputies who were genuinely Communist and progressive – insisted on having a referendum on the preservation of the Soviet Union. We managed to organize this referendum on March 17, 1991. When 76% of those who took part in the referendum voted for the Soviet Union to remain, we were unsure how Gorbachev would react and what he would deliver in response. It should be noted, however, that prior to this referendum, on May 4, 1990, the Parliament, the Supreme Soviet of Latvia, according to the old constitution, had already passed a declaration of independence.
Following the referendum, I had an audience with Gorbachev, and stated to him that this declaration of independence was unconstitutional. There, in the presence of the then Chair of the Supreme Soviet of Latvia, Anatolijs Gorbunovs, Gorbachev said, “Well, I’ll issue a decree, and it will be declared null and void.” The decree did appear on May 14, 1991, but it did not make a stir and it was ineffective. This situation encouraged our nationalists and they went further. The nationalists started to set up public procurators in charge of their own militias and other power-wielding structures. They also approved legislation, which stipulated that the decisions of the local republican authorities had priority over decisions at the federal or Soviet level.
As the Secretary of the Communist Party of Latvia, my position was quite simple. I said, “Let’s have a referendum and ask the people if they want to secede from the Union or not.” The nationalists then retorted that in 1941, when Latvia joined the Soviet Union, there was no referendum. Shortly after this I, along with a number of my comrades in the Latvian Communist Party, was accused of high treason according to the then-existing Soviet legislation, since at that time, local, Latvian legislation did not exist. The charge was high treason and the penalty was capital punishment.
PA: Could you clarify what the charges of high treason involved?
AR: It was because we would not obey the new local legislation, which claimed that Latvian legislation had priority over Soviet legislation – all Soviet legislation. However, the Latvian nationalists quickly changed the original punishment prescribed under the law – death, because obviously, as I understand now, they were themselves afraid that they might be prosecuted under this article, and their fear was well grounded since their actions were high treason indeed.
Shortly after, at the session of the Supreme Soviet of Latvia, on August 22, 1991, they denied me the power of immunity as a deputy of the Latvian Supreme Soviet, although I was also at the same time a deputy of the Congress of People’s Deputies of the Soviet Union. I was not really that upset and worried, because I knew that I had diplomatic immunity. Thus I became a “foreigner” and remained under the protection of the Soviet government. I didn’t go home, because I felt there might be unlawful actions taken against me if I did. Thus, I remained in my private quarters at the Central Committee building. I also did not want my family to see me being detained, if it happened.
That evening my two sons came to see me. One of them is now a Socialist deputy in the Latvian Parliament (known as the Saeima). We said goodbye just in case and agreed to meet the following day, because it was a special day. I knew this was a risky task, because I had received quite a few telephone calls from people who warned me what might happen. Others offered their assistance, even armed protection. From the window I could see policemen placed in different strategic locations. The Central Committee building is situated near a canal, and there were quite a few armed people around, placed in important locations all around the building. Perhaps they were afraid that I would call in the riot police. During the night we contacted all the members of the Central Committee, and on the following day we decided to hold a plenary session of the Central Committee at 12 o’clock.
At 8 o’clock in the morning it had been a sleepless night for most of us. I had the leading members of the committee come over, and we took counsel about what to do. There were 11 members present. One was from Byelorussia, and he said that he would leave immediately for Byelorussia and return home. The others said they would simply go home to their families. I stated that I was not going to flee because I was not guilty of anything. I decided to stay on. I realized that it was really getting very, very serious when my two bodyguards did not report for work. The security people had removed them from their job. At this point, the situation of the Party personnel and apparatus arose. The Central Committee decided that under such extreme circumstances, all Party employees should receive three months pay and that some of the Party’s records, such as membership lists, needed to be destroyed immediately, but that others should be left in place. After that everybody was dismissed.
At about 10 o’clock, two Saeima (parliament) deputies arrived. They were armed with guns and told me to stay in the Central Committee building. They wouldn’t let me go to the Parliament Building. I asked them to allow me to call my family, but they refused. I asked them to let me have something to eat because it was already midnight, but they wouldn’t. Soon more armed people came, and with the butts of their guns they destroyed all the telephones that were there. Then the Deputy Procurator General – not the Soviet, but the newly appointed Deputy Procurator General – came accompanied by armed security and started interrogating me. I told them what I had to tell. I was asked what I had been doing in recent days, that day and the day or two before. It turned out they were suspicious that I was a member of the State Committee for Emergency Situations in Moscow, but I wasn’t. My personal assistant, who is a good lawyer, then said that other people would now come, and that I would be treated not as a witness but as a suspect.
Soon more people arrived. They took up positions on my floor (the 6th floor), and the Procurator General, a woman, came in and began my interrogation. When I realized that it was an illegal interrogation, I refused to answer any questions. Then she demanded I appoint a specially authorized person in charge of handing over Communist Party property to the state. I demanded a legal document, so they showed me a law, a decree passed by the Supreme Soviet of Latvia, saying that all the Party property should be confiscated. With that, I appointed a person to do what they asked. Their representative came over and we made up a list of what we had to hand over to the government. On the list was the Central Committee building and the buildings of local and regional committees, the Party’s car pool, and other movable and immovable property. They wanted my signature, but I refused to sign. All this lasted a long time. At 5 p.m. a large group of armed men in bullet-proof jackets and helmets came upstairs. They isolated my personal assistant from me. Then the Deputy Procurator General showed me a legal document, a summons for my arrest, and ordered them to arrest me.
At this point, quite a few journalists and media people came running, including the BBC, and the coverage was quite extensive. I showed them my identity card as a national deputy of the Soviet Congress of People’s Deputies, which supposedly gave me immunity, but they still took me away. I refused to be handcuffed. I said that I was not going to offer any resistance – just take me away. They didn’t allow me to change my clothes or take any personal belongings. They just took me away with what I had on. Outside my office there was a long spiral staircase. I was squeezed between two security men, apparently. Maybe they were afraid I would leap over the balustrade, but the thought never entered my mind. They were pushing me along with the muzzles of their submachine guns. Strange as it may seem, I was not afraid. I was bitter and angry. On every floor I could see Central Committee employees watching what was happening. Many of the women were crying and the men just stood there helpless, but I went on calmly. To see their concern and anguish gave me a lot of strength. I felt that I needed to behave properly and with dignity in this situation – not only when I was in a high position and calling the shots, but also in circumstances such as these.
As I was leaving the building, I saw that the glass doors and the sign of the Central Committee of the Latvian Communist Party had been shattered. Outside there was a crowd of about 3,000 people. I know the square and how many people it holds. Many people had gathered because the media was broadcasting the story and announcing that Alfred Rubiks was being arrested. It was a mixed crowd. Some were against the Communist Party; some were supporters of the Communist Party. There were different cries and slogans and a lot of shouting.
At this point I was shoved inside a 10-seat minibus and they took me somewhere. I didn’t know where we were going, because the windows were closed and had curtains over them. It turned out we were heading to the Municipal Police Building. I was being guarded in the van by four soldiers with submachine guns and an officer. The officer got out and entered the building; he was gone for maybe 25 minutes. I found out later that he was trying to persuade the head of the city police to put me into a detention room in the building, but the police chief refused pointblank.
I guessed they would take me next to the office of the Procurator General of Riga. I didn’t know for certain where we were going, because the curtains were still drawn. My assumption turned out to be correct. There were armed men everywhere with Kalashnikovs and armed soldiers on every floor. We had to climb to the fourth floor. I was taken to the office of the new Deputy Procurator General for further interrogation. The room was filled with armed soldiers standing by the windows and guarding the door. I asked to see the statute, the law which allowed such actions. Quite cynically the Procurator General said, “In urgent times, legislation doesn’t act.” At that, I refused to speak with him and said that I would go on a hunger strike. He kept jumping around trying to persuade me, but I flatly refused to say anything.
At this point, they again pushed me inside the minibus and drove me around for a while. Only later did I find out where I ended up. They brought me to the infamous central prison of Riga. It has a special gate. The second gate will open only if the first is closed, and the new arrival had been placed in the custody of the prison guards. The deputy director of the prison had me brought to his office. He offered me tea, but there was no cell ready for me. I spent the whole night in the office of the head of this prison, guarded by a captain and a major. They brought me some food, but I refused it because I was on a hunger strike. They found a cell – it was unfit for habitation – and I spent six days there. There were no windows and no lavatory, so the guards took me to the facilities. Then they transferred me to a solitary cell. There were no window, no daylight, only artificial light throughout the day – which of course has very ill effects and is very hard on the nerves. I had to sleep with my hands visible to the guards and was not allowed to cover my face. There I spent 2 years. After that they transferred me to another solitary cell, so all in all I spent 4 years in solitary confinement. The investigation went on for 2 years, and the preliminary sentence changed 3 times, worded differently each time. The trial itself lasted 2-1/2 years.
When I was taken to the hearings, I joked to myself that I was like a student going to hear a lecture. They managed to come up with a new legal statue regarding an “aborted coup d’etat.” It was, of course, a kangaroo court. They claimed that I commanded the riot police and the troops of the military district, but these were directed by someone in Moscow, and I had no control over them. The final verdict was 8 years imprisonment and confiscation of property. Since I was an exemplary inmate, I was released 20 months early. They couldn’t confiscate anything, because there was nothing to confiscate, really. I didn’t have a car or bank deposits, no luxuries – nothing. They made a serious mistake when they didn’t make a careful list of all my personal effects and property, because they could have confiscated one of my beds or taken all the books from my home.
PA: Can you talk about what is happening in Latvia today?
AR: Basically, Latvia is now a country that obeys orders. It takes orders from the European Union and NATO. Agriculture has been destroyed. In current statistical reports, the category of total agricultural output no longer exists. It is included in a more general category, along with peat and lime extraction, or some other minor natural resources that Latvia has. Industrial output is now only 50% of what it was in 1990. Only 10% of the gross domestic product (GDP) involves industries engaged in actual processing. The rest of Latvia’s GDP involves construction, banking (the issuing of loans), and various services. On the surface, it appears that the GDP is growing at 8% a year, but living standards are not improving in the least. In every European statistic, Latvia holds last or next-to-last place in every category except for inflation, where it is first in the EU at 13%.
Latvia once had dreams of becoming a banking services capital, but larger and more powerful banks, especially from Scandinavia, gobbled up all the local Latvian banks, so that today only the Central Bank of Latvia still belongs to the nation. One of the measures to curb inflation was the introduction of a cap on the granting of loans, but since most of the banks are foreign, they don’t fall under this legislation.
Today in Latvia, retired people and senior citizens constitute about 26% of the population, and it is a sad fact that 94% of retired people subsist on incomes below the poverty level. People emigrate to the UK, Ireland, and the Nordic countries. When high school students in the 10th-through-12th grades were polled, 82% said that they see their future as workers elsewhere in Europe. Now in Latvia there is a new phenomenon – where people camp out in the streets demanding human treatment and raises in salaries and pensions.
So there are no prospects. The situation is quite gloomy, because our young people see no prospects, no future here. Of course, most young people dream of being successful, of becoming business executives or cabinet ministers. I didn’t become an executive myself, but I did become a cabinet minister! Now things have changed. There are basically no young people living in the rural areas. They are forced to flee. Now the situation is such that the birthrate is half as much as the mortality rate! It is true that the EU does provide funds. It channels in funds, but the funds can be used only if the Latvian side puts up 25-50% of the capital, and we cannot afford that. Therefore, all these funds have become a big waste of time and money, since the Latvian side is unable to match the percentage.
My forecast for the future is pessimistic. With the mortality rate so high and no babies being born, there is no future for such a state, and those who are still living emigrate. I believe that the people are starting to realize this, but if even if there is a chance to rectify the situation, it will certainly take a long time. For instance, 30% percent of the land now belongs to foreigners. They buy arable land and plant trees on it. That’s an example of what we are faced with and how long it is going to take.
PA: Is the Communist Party legal now?
AR: The Communist Party of Latvia, which was part of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU) was banned, and it is still banned. You can set up any other new party, but the current legislation bans the propaganda of communist ideas. It places Marxism and communism on the same level as the ideas of Nazis. The propaganda of communist ideas and the propaganda of fascist ideas are strictly forbidden. On top of this, former members of the Communist Party of Latvia, who were active members of the Party after January 13, 1990, cannot be elected deputies. Under such circumstances, when members of the Communist Party cannot run for Parliament, and the people are afraid of joining the party, there is no use in setting up such an organization. We want to have this discriminatory law removed, and then maybe we will restore the Communist Party of Latvia. People say to me, “Petrovich [Rubiks’ nickname –ed], it will happen only when you die, because as long as you are alive, they will never give in.” They say they are afraid of me. Today the party which represents us, the Socialist Party of Latvia, has 4 seats – my son Arturs is a deputy, and the coalition we are part of (known as the Harmony Alliance), has 17 seats in the Saiema. It’s funny, but when I go to the Parliament building these days and bump into some of the nationalists they are petrified of me. But so far I haven’t been harassed. Still, I am not allowed to run for Parliament.
PA: What percentage of support do you think the Socialist Party and the Harmony Alliance have among the population?
AR: It is difficult to say precisely, but judging from the election results, the Socialist Party received 8% of the total vote in the last Parliamentary elections, while the coalition as a whole won 19-20%.
