A letter to MIT students from Putin’s dungeons
Andrei Trofimov: “Today, we are seeing something surprising. In the 21st century, progress in science and technology is moving away from social progress. The two are moving in opposite directions”
PHOTO PROVIDED BY KATE BROWN
photo provided by kate brown
photo provided by kate brown
Andrei Trofimov is a political prisoner in Russia. He was arrested in May 2022 and sentenced in Oct. 2023 to ten years for posting against the War in Ukraine on the Russian internet. He wrote this letter below to MIT students in May 2024, because in 1987 he had a fellowship to study at MIT. Before leaving Moscow for Boston, he delivered a petition in support of politician Boris Yeltsin, who was demanding that reforms be implemented with greater speed. After that, his fellowship was withdrawn and another student went in his place.
Until a few weeks ago, it was hard to imagine Americans or people living in the United States denied fellowships or going to prison because of words they spoke or wrote, but our country is quickly changing and that impossibility is now our reality. A few months ago, a Russian friend of mine, Nikolai Formozov (now taking refuge in Ireland) forwarded me a letter that Trofimov wrote to MIT students from prison.
Trofimov, now in his late fifties, has lived by his conscience for the past four decades. He is concerned about the direction science and technology is heading. He writes: “Today, we are seeing something surprising. In the 21st century, progress in science and technology is moving away from social progress. The two are moving in opposite directions.”
As we think about how we might respond to the attack on science, on knowledge, and on American universities, please find Andrei Trofimov’s letter, translated by Joanne Turnbull, to the MIT community.
Hello colleagues!
I am addressing you this way because I am also an engineer by training. In 1989, I graduated from Bauman Moscow State Technical University (called “Rocket College”). I was in the Spacecraft and Launch Vehicles department. I was 8 years old when my parents divorced and my father left Moscow. The next time we saw each other was when I turned 10. I will remember my father’s birthday present for the rest of my life: a postage stamp block issued in the USSR in honor of the Soyuz-Apollo flight in 1975, the first joint space project of our countries. I remember those stamps: the Soyuz crew, Leonov and Kubasov; the Apollo crew, Stafford, Slayton, and Brand. In those years, my stepfather smoked Soyuz-Apollo cigarettes and said they were the best cigarettes freely available in the USSR. But I didn’t smoke, I was a smart Soviet schoolboy, and I read books at home after school.
One of my favorites was the fat compendium I Want to Know Everything. In this compendium, there was a detailed article about the Apollo 11 flight. Neil Armstrong and Edwin Aldrin were the first to reach the moon. They left behind not only your Stars and Stripes flag, but also a photograph of our Yuri Gagarin, the first man in space. These childhood impressions led me to Rocket College — to move humanity into space. All of humanity, not just my country. I was in my third year when the Challenger shuttle exploded during its launch into orbit, killing the entire crew. No one was happy in our university that day. These were the times of Gorbachev, and for us, you were colleagues, not enemies.
In 1987, I almost went on an internship to Boston, to MIT. Before Gorbachev, no one in the USSR could even have dreamed of a student internship in the USA. Then my internship fell through (I came out in support of the then disgraced Boris Yeltsin, which turned out to be too much for Gorbachev’s “semi-freedom.”) A guy from my year, also an excellent student, but one not involved in politics, came to MIT instead. I successfully completed my studies and even managed to get involved in practical astronautics. The Lavochkin firm was then working on a project for the Soviet Mars rover. (The English word “firm” was used in the USSR, but meant only “design bureau and defense plant”.) My piece of that work was the mechanism for opening the doors, which was supposed to verticalize the descent vehicle after its soft landing on the surface of Mars. My drawings (on paper without AutoCAD) never turned into metal: the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, and no one had time for space.
In present-day Russia, the overwhelming majority of the population is sure that Americans never went to the moon. People here consider the conspiratorial nonsense about Hollywood stagings of lunar videos to be true because our loss in the lunar race (like our loss in the Cold War) has never been absorbed and is rejected by people’s consciousness. The overwhelming majority of my fellow citizens hate and loudly curse Gorbachev because “he destroyed the Soviet Union.” They all want to go back to the USSR — even those who never lived there. Semi-freedom under Gorbachev and absolute freedom under Yeltsin brought no benefit to most Russians, only material deprivation, the loss of stability, and the loss of security. (For me, in the USSR that I saw, the main thing was the feeling of boredom; but I’m in the minority.)
Even the most optimistic (for liberals) sociological studies say that personal freedom and dignity are the main values for only 15% of present-day Russia’s adult population. (Sociologists call this group “Russian Europeans.”) The events of the last two years have shown that even that 15% is not ready to defend these universal human values in earnest. Yes, about a million people left Russia because of the war [in Ukraine] — all of them are “Russian Europeans.” They make up less than 1% of Russia’s population. Thousands stayed and chose the path of resistance. (I’m judging by the number of administrative fines for anti-war protests.) Roughly 1,000 people went all the way and went to prison. (Please don’t make me calculate what percentage we are of the overall population.)
The rest are HAPPY WITH EVERYTHING. If Putin alone was to blame for what is happening, this story would not have dragged on for two years. When Putin is gone, everything will be fine only for Ukraine; Ukraine will bury its dead and rebuild its cities. Meanwhile, in Russia, on 1/7 of the earth’s landmass, there will remain tens of millions of frustrated people who still don’t understand anything and hate the rest of the world. Before reaching the Beautiful Russia of the Future they will have to be led through the desert for 40 years, just as Moses led the Jews to the Promised Land. But who will be willing to do that, to take that task on?
Today, what we have is this: I’m writing to you in solitary confinement in a pre-trial detention center. Neither my knowledge nor my ideas were needed by my Motherland — my Motherland considers my place to be in a strict-regime prison.* So much the worse for the Motherland. I have a right to Ukrainian citizenship and want to exercise that right. I’m a Russian political prisoner and a third-generation Muscovite, but the battle for the future of all humanity is being waged by another country. Putin is pushing Russia and all of humanity into the Middle Ages. I’ll fight him to the end. Either my end, or his. I’m writing this on May 9, celebrated in Russia as Victory Day over fascism. Victory over fascism is inevitable.
*(I have been sentenced to 10 years for my words on the internet against the war, against Putin, for Ukraine.)
— Andrei Trofimov, Pretrial Detention Center 1, City of Tver, May 9, 2024
Trofimov’s courage and willingness to go to jail for his beliefs are admirable. He follows a century-long tradition in Russia of political prisoners speaking their conscience from incarceration. Now, students in the United States who have expressed their views (while breaking no law) are also being detained illegally in detention centers. If history bears out, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officials will move from visa holders to green card holders, from green card holders to naturalized citizens. Then they will come for the native-born. No one is safe from such tyranny. It is better to speak out and reverse this injustice while we can.
Kate Brown is the Thomas M. Siebel Distinguished Professor in History of Science and interim Department Head of the Program in Science, Technology, and Society.