“TIMELESS ETERNITY” BY ROBERT MARTIKO: AN EXPOSE OF THE DICTATORSHIP
Memorie.al / The novel “Timeless Eternity” was not written by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, nor by Stalin’s secretary, Bazhanov, but by the Albanian Robert Martiko. Yet, anyone who reads it would – besides being amazed – unhesitatingly believe it was the work of a Russian writer. It is an extraordinary and voluminous literary creation by an Albanian who begins the narrative on November 5, 1932 – just two days before the famous victory parade of the “October Bolshevik Revolution” in Red Square, beneath the Kremlin walls.
“Oh Liberty, what crimes are committed in thy name!” were the words of Madame Roland on November 8, 1793, as her carriage took her from Sainte-Pelagie prison toward the guillotine at “Place de la Révolution,” where she was met by the executioner and the cheers of the crowd. It was on this same date that a simple woman, Stalin’s wife Nadezhda Alliluyeva – who walked toward her own death by choice – decided to visit her colleague at the Agricultural Institute, the Frenchwoman Natalie Villeneuve.
The latter was married to Igor Mikhailovich Gruzinski, an intellectual of Cossack origin and unbreakable character. Like many others, they had believed the promises of the Bolshevik revolutionaries, led by the “genius of evil,” Vladimir Ilyich Lenin. However, they were now disillusioned and seeking legal means to return to Marseille. They had an incredibly bright adolescent son, Serzh, who referred to an old Larousse encyclopedia for everything he didn’t know.
Macbethian Histories in the Kremlin
Martiko has chosen this lens to tell heart-wrenching and almost unbelievable Macbethian stories from the upper echelons of the party-state, inside that fortress inherited from the time of Ivan the Terrible: the Kremlin. In this place, honor, gratitude, and loyalty are unknown.
The new Tsar, the “Vozhd” or “Koba” – as they call the pockmarked red monster – is described by his wife in private as “a furious egoist, arrogant, and an unparalleled ruffian.” He cares for nothing but his absolute power. His biography is chronicled by little Serzh, who lives in a tiny room called a kommunalka, divided only by a curtain. Curiously, Serzh eavesdrops on adult conversations and witnesses the inner circle when he is invited to solemn celebrations with the Young Pioneers, where he befriends Stalin’s daughter, Svetlana.
He sees the members of the Politburo up close – men of indisputable authority who are as cruel to the people as they are sickeningly servile before the Leader. They ruthlessly sign lists of innocent “wretches” for execution, imprisonment, and exile. We are accustomed to judging the names of Dzerzhinsky, Molotov, Kaganovich, Kalinin, Kirov, Sergo, Mikoyan, and later Trotsky, Bukharin, Beria, and Khrushchev through the eyes of historians. However, the perspective of a child feels even more credible – a significant merit of Robert Martiko’s composition.
Parallels between Two Dictatorships
As you read, your imagination inevitably wanders to Tirana’s “Dëshmorët e Kombit” Boulevard, watching the ranks of our own Politburo members led by the “legendary” dictator Enver Hoxha. Once, like “contented swine,” they waved to the crowds with their fedoras and flowers, never imagining they would end up with a bullet to the back of the head, nameless and without grave, victims of the same intrigues they once used against others.
Communism finds its bed where there is poverty and ignorance. As Gianfranco Fini clearly stated: “Communism is the greatest and bloodiest illusion that humanity has ever brought to light.” The tragedy is that many still believe in this verified utopia today.
Martiko, with sharp judgment, reminds us through the words of Serzh’s father: “A day will come when things in Russia will clear up… People will realize that we were governed for years by the most criminal, psychopathic, incompetent, and corrupt gang to ever appear on Earth.”
The industrialization of Russia could never balance the scales against the suffering of a people threatened by constant surveillance and the “Gulags.” Everywhere was the hand of the GPU (predecessor of the KGB), which changed names and leaders but never its sinister goals.
Heroes Today, Agents Tomorrow
The word “comrade” long ago lost its meaning, as did “loyalty.” Kirov is murdered in Leningrad and shrouded in mystery; Sergo is forced to commit suicide, mirroring the fate of Nako Spiru and even Prime Minister Mehmet Shehu in Albania. The hypocrisy is identical: a “hero” in the morning, an “agent” or “poly-agent” by evening.
Stalin led the high Bolsheviks to place a fresh urn of ashes beside Kirov’s. As the author notes: “The two former friends met again. This time, in the form of ash.” These were perhaps the lucky ones. Those who ended up in the Lubyanka knew true horror. Stalin never forgot the accusation made by Alexander Rykov: “You must answer for the evils you are doing to the Soviet people.” What followed were horrific tortures for former heroes and a total loss of personality.
The Culture of the Informant
Enver Hoxha always swore he was a faithful pupil of Stalin. This was the only way to justify the killing of “imaginary enemies,” clergy, intellectuals, and the destruction of their families. The similarity between the two dictatorships – one covering a sixth of the world, the other a tiny country – is striking. Both were controlled by the Secret Police, which installed the institution of spying, even down to the level of Pavlik Morozov, who denounced his own father.
Robert Martiko uses his profound culture to immerse us in this false reality. Nothing distinguishes it from Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago. The poverty, the fear, the cruelty of Felix Dzerzhinsky’s followers, the orgies at the leaders’ dachas – it was a climate far more oppressive than that of the Romanov era.
A Call to Logic
The book also serves as a metaphor for resistance and hope. Children are the most sincere; through their eyes, we see a longing for a freedom born of a quiet conscience. As Stalin’s secretary Bazhanov concluded: “Stalin was a product of the communist system… in such a soil, Stalins can sprout and flourish at any time.”
Our society today, more than ever, needs to engage with books like this by Robert Martiko. It is a call to logic to recognize what happened and condemn it with moral severity, without the nostalgia that only hinders our journey toward Europe. / Memorie.al
