2010 m. kovo 23 d., antradienį, Laisvasis universitetas (LUNI) kviečia į kultūrologės Violetos Davoliūtės paskaitą apie pokario Vilnių. Lektorė pasakos, kaip po karo buvo kuriamas naujas – sovietinis ir lietuviškas – Vilnius. Renginys vyks restorano „Esse” antrojoje salėje, Gedimino pr. 50, Vilniuje (greta „Vagos” knygyno).
Renginys facebook'eVioleta Davoliūtė – kultūrologė, apsigynusi daktarės disertaciją Toronto universitete, Kanadoje. Dėstė Šiaurės Amerikos ir Lietuvos universitetuose, paskelbė daug straipsnių Vakarų akademiniuose leidiniuose. Pagrindinės domejimosi sritys: istorinės traumos ir kultūra, Gulagas, Holokaustas, sovietmetis Lietuvoje. 2009 m. gruodžio 2–4 d. V. Davoliūtė dalyvavo tarptautinėje konferencijoje „Paribio miestai: kūrybos topografija”, kurioje perskaitė pranešimą „ Pokario Vilnius: tarp kaimo ir miesto”.
Šiandien vis daugiau kalbama, koki ilgalaikį poveikį Antrojo pasaulinio karo ir pokario metu ivykę drastiški demografiniai pasikeitimai turėjo Rytų ir Vidurio Europos miestams. Nors daugelio miestų architektūrinis pavidalas po karo išliko mažai pakitęs, tačiau iki tol sukurtas socialinis audinys buvo drastiškai sunaikintas. Būtent toks miestas yra šiuolaikinis Vilnius.
Praėjusio amžiaus viduryje senuosius miesto gyventojus čia is esmės pakeitė nauji – dažniausiai iki tol neturėję jokios gyvenimo mieste patirties. Šie žmonės su savimi atsinešė kitą – kaimo – kultūrą ir tradicijas.
Naudojantis literatūriniais šaltiniais, liudijimais ir autobiografiniais tekstais, paskaitoje bus kalbama apie tai, kaip po karo buvo kuriamas naujas – sovietinis ir lietuviškas Vilnius, Tarybų Lietuvos sostinė.
Prieš paskaitą būtų naudinga perskaityti:
Paskaitoje bus naudojama straipsnio „Coming to terms with the present: the Vilnius Question in postwar Lithuania“ medžiaga (Forthcoming, Journal of Baltic Studies 2010). Susipažinkite su jo fragmentu.
On 16 February, 1949, after several years of grueling guerilla warfare, eight leaders of the Lithuanian partisan movement gathered to put their names (or rather, their noms de guerre: Vytautas, Kardas, etc.) to a sheet of parchment entitled the Declaration of the Council of the Movement of the Struggle for Freedom of Lithuania.
Brazenly claiming the status of the ‘highest political organ of the people’, the Council declared its determination to fight for freedom and to end foreign occupation. Fifty years later, their efforts were vindicated by the Lithuanian Parliament, which gave this document the status of a legal act of the State of Lithuania, proving of its continuity and demonstrating that a “universal, organized, armed resistance” was active in Lithuania from 1944-1953.
But for all the bravery of the signatories of the Declaration, and their subsequent vindication in the post-Soviet era, 1949 actually marked the turning point against the resistance; it was the point after which Soviet power in Lithuania became fully consolidated. Reinforced by a large influx of troops, the authorities pushed ahead with massive and indiscriminate deportations of peasant families in 1948 and 1949, seeking to ‘destroy the kulak as a class,’ employing terror to eliminate resistance to collectivization.
The Soviet ‘surge’ worked. In less than one year, the share of collective farms jumped from four to sixty percent. Armed military units were installed in every village to protect the property of the collective farms and the lives of their directors. Until this time the villages were “no-go” zones for the Soviets after dark, as armed partisans came in from the forests to collect food and supplies. But after 1949, the scales tipped in favor of collaboration with the Soviets, and became the norm. From 1949 onwards, the armed resistance was hardly universal and organized, but increasingly desperate, disintegrating and doomed.
Indeed, by 1949, most Lithuanians had come to accept Soviet power as a given, and they sought above all just to get on with their lives. And for the Generation of 1930, the year of their 19th birthday marked a turning point of another kind: it was the year they left behind the despair and desolation of the village to go and study at university in the city, launching careers that would raise them to the very peaks of national fame and glory.
Asked what he felt in 1949, Lithuanian poet Algimantas Baltakis recalls an intense feeling of enthusiasm that was common among his peers: “We were young,” he said. “We were happy that the war was over, that we could study at the university. The first thing we did after having arrived in Vilnius bought hats, rubbed our cloth shoes with chalk until they were shining white, and walked down the streets singing Lithuanian folk songs. Some Poles passed by us on the street and whispered among themselves: ‘the Lithuanians are singing.’ We were happy.”
Justinas Marcinkevičius also arrived in Vilnius in 1949. He remembers the same joyful mood, the same singing: “I don’t know where we got all those songs, but everybody had their song. They had songs at the factory and we had our own student songs. As soon as we had a break between classes we gathered at the fountain and started to sing. Only the boys, actually.”
Of course, during the very height of Stalinism, life in the cities was by no means idyllic, and the oppression of occupation was felt every day. Marcinkevičius recalls how people would simply disappear. “I was in a choir and one day two guys, they were brothers, didn’t show up for practice. They didn’t show up the next day, or anytime after that, but nobody asked any questions.”
Upon reflection, Marcinkevičius admits that when he thinks about it now, he cannot understand why they were singing so much. But sing they did, all the time, and on the streets. “I think it was out of relief that we had escaped from the village, and that we were in Vilnius. It was probably the first time when Lithuanians were singing loudly in this city.”
1939 m. spalio 9 d. Naumiestyje organizuotos Vilniui vaduoti viešosios rinkliavos
Sovietinis lietuviškas Vilnius, XX a. 7 dešimtmetis