Paul Goble
Staunton,
June 21 – The heroine of Nevil Shute’s classic novel, A Town like Alice, observes at one point that there is something
worse than being a Japanese prisoner of war in a POW camp: it is to be a
prisoner of war that the Japanese army is unwilling to admit to any camp as
were she and the group of women she lived among.
That
is because, she said, in the camps there was a certain kind of order, food
however inadequate and shelter however shabby. But those who were classified as
prisoners of war but not taken into a Japanese prison camp had none of those things
and had to struggle for their existence even harder than some behind the barbed
wire.
Something
similar could be said about a category of Stalin’s victims that has attracted
far less attention than the GULAG inmates.
These were the special settlers, people who were deported from their
home areas, dumped in places without food or shelter, and often allowed to
descend into savagery before dying.
Andrey
Filimonov of Radio Svoboda has therefore performed an especially noteworthy
service by calling attention to the Nazin tragedy, which was as he points out “one
of the most horrific pages of Russian history of the 20th century”
and “a symbol of the senseless cruelty” of Stalin’s rule (sibreal.org/a/29293884.html).
Over a few weeks in May-June 1933,
he recalls, “on an island in the middle of the Ob River died from hunger 5,000
special settlers. Many of them became victims of cannibalism” as others
struggled to survive in a place with no food or shelter. Today, a church has
been erected where they died, “the innocent victims” of Stalin and Stalinism.
Most of the people sent to this
island appear to have been caught up in a sweep by the special services to
round up those who had violated the passport regime the Soviets had introduced
a year or two earlier or who were especially dangerous recidivists on whom the
authorities decided not to waste time on trials but simply to exile.
Both earlier and later, the Soviet
state deported and exiled portions of numerous ethnic and religious minorities,
hoping thereby to get them out of the way and to boost the population of
Siberia. But so many died in the process
that this goal was not really achieved – and it may be that Moscow didn’t even
care if it was.
Those on the island in the Ob were
sent east in cattle cars to Novosibirsk and then put on barges to travel down
the Ob to the north. They were not
dressed for this nor was much food provided for them. And the special settlers
began suffering almost immediately, with deaths beginning even before they
arrived.
Local people and even local
Bolsheviks knew what was going on and as the people on the island died in
droves, they began to call the place “Cannibal” or “Death Island.” Investigations were carried out in summary
fashion shortly after all 5,000 died and then with more care by Memorial
activists in the summer of 1989.
In his article, Filimonov quotes
liberally from these reports which document the horrific nature of a system
that drove people to cannibalism and then their deaths. They deserve to be remembered alongside the
other victims of the GULAG, and Filimonov deserves to be praised for
contributing to that task.
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