In November of 1936 a small group of anarchist syndicalists traveled to the Soviet Union. The trade unions of that country wanted to show us what they had achieved since the revolution; we were interested in explaining to our hosts and to the Russian people the difficult situation into which we had been dragged by the Civil War and international fascism.
From our very first meeting with the representatives of the USSR, we could see that Durruti was not unknown there. The articles about him that appeared in the Soviet press not only mentioned his activities in the Civil War, but also discussed his career many years before July 19. The Russian journalists had gone to see him in the factories of Barcelona and had published some interviews with him. The Russian people even knew that Durruti was an anarchist, an exceptional case, because concerning the other anarchists the Russians did not say a single word. On the other hand, the Spanish communists like La Pasionaria, Díaz and Mije were more popular in Russia than they were in their own country. This is understandable, because in Russia there are only communist newspapers, and all other newspapers are prohibited. They always praise their own people. Only for Durruti did they make an exception.
In Kiev, the civilian and military authorities and the representatives of the universities and schools welcomed us with a reception at the grand ballroom of the best hotel in the city. All of Ukraine’s officialdom was there. The commander of the Kiev garrison, an old Bolshevik, delivered the keynote address. After greeting his guests, he told us about the death of Durruti and invited those who were present to stand and observe a minute of silence in honor of the “great Spanish warrior”.
But it was not just the official figures who expressed their admiration for Durruti. During our stay in Moscow we went to visit some workers who lived in a proletarian neighborhood of the city. In a small shack we met a metal worker who had participated in the struggles of 1918. He had to feed a large family and he lived in poverty. He had followed with great interest the course of the war in Spain. He gestured that we should follow him to a corner of his house, and he took out an old book from a drawer. It was an old, faded edition of the works of Korolenko. In the book he had inserted a few pages cut from newspapers: a photograph of Durruti that had appeared in Pravda, and an article containing an account of his life.
“Why do you keep this”, we asked him.
“Because I had faith in him, because he was sincere. He was not an impostor, he was not one of those people who deceive the working class.”
He thumbed through the book some more and found another cutting, this one even older. In the vague photo we recognized Nestor Makhno, the old anarchist leader. The worker told us about some of Makhno’s actions during the Russian Revolution, and he told us about his downfall.
“Makhno was one of the greatest revolutionaries”, he said, “and now they want to make us believe that he was a bandit. Take care to see to it that the same thing does not happen to Durruti’s memory.”
We promised him that we would.
Анонимный рассказ в книге "Короткое лето анархии" (английский перевод) - Enzensberger H.M. Brief Summer of Anarchy
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