Mstislav Rostropovich

Here the axiomatic Herzen and Ogaryov; the thoughtless Pushkin and the judicious Vyazemsky; the bearded founders of Marxism, and the severe inspector Podberezovik with the sympathetic Detochkin. The friendship of the inspector with the criminal triumphed over laws; that of the prince and the beggar the foundations of the monarchy; and three musketeers with the guardsman changed the course of European literary history. This however was not only to be found in novels! Now we can add the friendship between “the dissident and the tyrant”. Well, thus has our cheerful time added such a case to history!

What, apparently, could there be in common between the liberally raised, democratically disposed, world famous cellist Mstislav Rostropovich, feted with numerous awards, including currently a Grammy: and a career security officer, former member of the Politburo of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and first secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Azerbaijan, and finally president of this country, Geidar Aliev?

For a start, both of them were born in Azerbaijan: Aliev in 1923 in Nakhichevan, and Rostropovich four years later in Baku. Subsequently, each built his career according to his abilities. Rostropovich already completed the Moscow conservatory at the age of 19; Aliev at 18 entered service in the People's Commissariat of Internal Affairs (NKVD), thanks to which he avoided being sent to the front. Rostropovich received world recognition as a soloist of the Moscow Philharmonic Orchestra; Aliev entered the CPSU and was promoted in the KGB. At the beginning of the 1970’s Rostropovich had Alexander Solzhenitsyn, at the time being chased by the KGB, to stay at his dacha; Aliev by then had already attained the rank of general-major and chairman of the KGB in Azerbaijan. Rostropovich, having paid for his friendship with Solzhenitsyn by losing his professional career, emigrated in 1978 from the Soviet Union; Aliev became a member of the Central Committee of the CPSU, and then a member of the Politburo. Rostropovich received a knighthood from Queen Elizabeth II; Aliev from the Secretary General two Orders of Lenin. In the days of Perestroika, Rostropovich welcomed reforms; Aliev remained a furious opponent of Gorbachev. In 1993 Rostropovich held a concert on Red Square; Aliev held a revolution in Azerbaijan and after having displaced the lawfully elected president Abulfaza Elchibeja, became the president himself. Rostropovich still plays and conducts; Aliev, as president, terrorized the population of Azerbaijan, suppressing human rights and imprisoning the most irrepressible critics right up to his death last year.

Two such biographies could not be more dissimilar. It is difficult to imagine that friendship could connect these two people to each other. Such an incomprehensible friendship would have remained for their contemporaries a secret, had the Azerbaijan State Philharmonic Orchestra’s building not reopened, after long term restoration, on 27 January this year,. To the opening ceremony came none other than Mstislav Rostropovich.

The maestro pronounced the pathetic words: “Today's evening is for me very disturbing because I waited many years for this event. I remember the numerous performances on this stage when dear Geidar Aliev was still the head of Soviet Azerbaijan. But for me the opening of the Philharmonic Orchestra is on the one hand a holiday, and on the other hand grief: in fact all ideas, memories are entirely absorbed in my departed friend. Our Geidar Aliev indefinitely stood up for the restoration of this concert platform, but did not live to see this happy day. As a token of deep respect to, and in memory of, Geidar Aliev I will conduct the Saraband from Suite number two by Johan Sebastian Bach. For me the Saraband sounds like a prayer, it is not confined to any particular religion; it is a prayer for all people. I want to say goodbye by means of this music to my dear friend”.

After the performance of the Saraband, the maestro requested the audience not applaud. Silence reigned for several minutes.

Another rather less touching and solemn silence reigned at the same time in the chambers of the Bailovsky prison in Baku, where the leaders of the Musavat political party, Ibrahim Ibrahimli and Sulhaddin Akper, are being held on political charges, along with the secretary general of the Democratic Party Sardar Dzhalaloglu, and dozens of other oppositionists hidden away there by the late Geidar Aliev for the “crime” of wanting to see an Azerbaijan free, democratic and relieved of corruption and police brutality.

On those same days when the maestro Rostropovich was giving his concert and grieving for Aliev, about ten policemen were beating the opposition leader Ibrahim Ibrahimli. His ribs were broken, as were several fingers, as a result of being caught in a door. The editor-in-chief of the Eni Musavat oppositional newspaper, Rauf Arifoglu, announced he was going on hunger strike, protesting against the authorities. In November last year some 50 prisoners, protesting their innocence, did the same.

The political opposition in Azerbaijan is gradually moving to prison cells, courtrooms and camp barracks. All this, of course, can not be noticed if one enthusiastically and faithfully looks to the political leadership, is moved by the beautifully restored building of the Baku Philharmonic.

In order to hear the voice of protest amongst a thunder of fanfares, it is necessary to have not so much perfect pitch as a sensitive conscience. To hear prison silence, it is necessary to be imbued with an understanding of real life, not ostentatious life with awards, knightly ranks and laurel wreaths round one’s neck. This ringing, scandalous prison silence, silence of indistinct tortures and slow death, has not been heard by maestro Rostropovich: he gave honours to the late tyrant, wishing his son “feats” worthy of his father.