Natalia Belitser is a scholar, human rights activist, and writer. Doctor of Biological Sciences, until 1995 she headed the electron microscopy laboratory at the Institute of Biochemistry of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine. But in the end, she was forced to make a difficult choice between her beloved science and human rights activism. The choice was influenced by the problems of Crimea and the Crimean Tatars, which Natalia Belitser had been passionate about since her active participation in the dissident movement: the scientist brought the Samizdat publication Chronicle of Current Events to Kyiv from Moscow and distributed it among Ukrainian intellectuals. For the past 30 years, Natalia Belitser has worked at the Pylyp Orlyk Institute for Democracy. She is the author of many publications on human rights issues, including the book “Crimean Tatars as an Indigenous People”. The CEMAAT editorial board is proud that Natalia entrusted our media with the publication of her memoirs, which - according to her statement - were written “just for me, as a kind of auto-psychotherapy.” Today we are publishing part one (in full, without edits or cuts).

...Somehow KGB takes up too much space in my memory. Well, what can I do if this is how it was? All these trials became a test of resilience over and over again. Moreover, they determined everything that could be expected from life in the future. Because betrayal - of like-minded people, colleagues, or ideals - meant its impossibility. That is, to lose your immortal soul? To no longer be worthy of your son's love, your friends' trust, and the slightest self-respect? And all this - forever!? 

Never and under no circumstances. There is no room for hesitation or different search options. The only option is this: NO!

...So, more often than I would like, I recall interrogations at the KGB office, which were so exhausting and took a lot of strength and nervous energy. 

(There should’ve been a separate opus about the KGB. Because it would be sinful to hide - sometimes there was also a feeling of excitement, a desire to outplay the interrogator intellectually, using the standard methods and techniques developed by the tsarist guards. I learned about them from a book about “fiery revolutionaries” once recommended as a guide that was “extremely useful” by one of my dissident friends. It was Lyonya Plyushch).

...When it finally became clear that squeezing testimony out of me against the arrested Plyushch and Sverstyuk was a hopeless task, the last round of “communication” came. This third round (the first one was back in my student days) was entirely devoted to disgusting recruitment attempts. Why me? The answer is simple: “Because no one will suspect you.” And the main argumentation intended for seduction is not the promise of money or privileges. These “interrogation masters,” as it turned out, were sincerely convinced that for a Soviet person, the ability to travel abroad without hindrance was the highest reward. Indeed, for scientists, participating in international congresses and discussing the results of their work with colleagues working in the same field was extremely important, but for almost everyone - including me - unreachable. (A special term was introduced for foreign events where our reports were supposed to be presented but where we, of course, could not come: “Russian time.").

...At the same time, the recruiters insisted that the future agreement did not provide any information about dissident sentiments or anything like that. It was allegedly only about some information obtained through casual conversations with foreign colleagues, which could be useful for the state. That is something like “scientific espionage,” which they insisted was a “patriotic duty” of a conscious Soviet person.

...I was not a hero who could openly demonstrate the accumulated contempt and hatred for them all. Instead, I was playing a different game, proving that I was a scientist, completely absorbed in my research and therefore incapable of coping with such tasks and that I would certainly fail in such cases. (I was referring to psychological tests, in particular, aimed at finding out the ability to distribute or concentrate attention. Which I “kindly and sincerely” offered to use to my tormentors so that they could learn something new about themselves and their own professional (in)suitability). 

Usually, the reaction to such and similar answers (most importantly, those not foreseen in their methodologies) was embarrassment and confusion or almost stupor. Or was I just lucky to be dealing with young, clumsy, and inexperienced employees of this formidable organization? It's quite possible.

...The epic culminated in my application: I asked the recruiter to quit this tedious job and get a job as a laboratory assistant. The reasoning was as follows: “Here you are, a very young man, wasting time and energy every day to tear another person away from fruitful work and force her to agree to cooperate with you.” I continued: “Is this kind of activity able to satisfy a young man? I guarantee that you will not regret changing your profession to a completely different one, much more interesting and worthy, no doubt. And at the same time, you will be able to get a higher education and, perhaps, become a real scientist, and then you will finally understand what the taste of life is!” 

After this proposal, my counterpart, completely dumbfounded, got up and left the room to call his boss (a colonel) for help. This meeting did not change anything either. Then Anatoliy Mykolayovych (I somehow managed to remember the name of that lowlife involuntarily!) briefly left the office with the boss, and upon his return, he said with a smile and a noticeable relief: “Well, that's it. We're done, we won't bother you anymore.” And finally - what a disgusting thing! - he tried to mislead me insidiously: he slipped me a piece of paper with something printed in small print and said casually: “This is a standard non-disclosure form,” which I had to sign. He was counting on the fact that I would hear about the end of this saga, be happy and impatient to get out of there as soon as possible, sign hastily, and not spend time reading the contents of the document.

But this did not happen. Because one of the first dissident commandments was to read the text that was offered to be signed carefully, several times. So I read it and it was like an electric shock: this piece of paper was consent to cooperate with the KGB. That was the end of the game.

‍

I raised my head, looked at him straight in the eyes, and expressed everything I felt with my eyes. We were silent for a minute. And then, having controlled my emotions, I calmly said: “You, Lieutenant, did not do your duty well, because you were distracted or tired and confused about what you had to give me for my signature.” I threw this shameful piece of paper across the polished surface of the table to him, got up, and left. (No words of farewell, of course.)

(To be continued)