For those hoping to travel abroad, misconduct involving foreign tourists was fatal. Just a few months previously, without permission, a deputy head teacher (male, age thirty-six, a party member) had used his own private car to drive American tourists from Vilnius to Panevézys. Other kinds of unwise behavior involved rash confessions. A pensioner (female, age fifty-nine, non-party), whose husband was known to be living in the United States, was described as “indiscreet”: she was overheard saying things classed as disloyal. It was imprudent to praise the American way of life. It was especially careless to confide in a friend that, if allowed abroad, one might not come back. In fact, it was compromising even to admit to marital discord, because this suggested a weakening of the family ties that ought to ensure the responsible citizen’s return to the motherland. All such cases were refused a travel visa.
The data from Panevézys show that many people with kompromat were nonetheless allowed to hold jobs with some element of influence over others. Table 5.3 gives a few clues to what the KGB would overlook and what remained unacceptable. The table compares two groups, those cleared for top-secret work despite kompromat and those barred because of it. In Panevézys the top-secret sphere was very small, so we have only a few subjects—six in the cleared group and ten that were barred. Small numbers undermine the significance of the differences we see. That said, the demographics of the two groups (age, gender, education, and so forth) were very similar. But two differences are evident. First, those cleared were more likely to be party members. Perhaps the KGB saw this as providing some additional assurance of loyalty. Second, no one was cleared for top-secret work if the evidence on their files, of whatever kind, related to them personally (not to a family member) as an adult (not as a child).
A puzzle follows: Why were so many people with kompromat allowed to hold supervisory positions in the town, when so many more ordinary citizens were barred from foreign travel? On the face of it, secret work might seem more important to the state than foreign tourism. Why did the KGB screen the would-be tourists more rigorously than the managers?
A few factors suggest themselves. From the perspective of the KGB officer, the stakes involved in letting the “wrong” person travel abroad were very high. The outcome could be irreversible. On reaching a foreign country, where KGB surveillance was impeded, a tourist could defect. Permission to
TABLE 5.3. To clear or not to clear: How did candidates cleared for top-secret work in spite of kompromat differ from those barred because of it? | ||
---|---|---|
Cleared | Barred but still in employment | |
Total | 6 | 10 |
Personal data: | ||
Age in 1972, years | 38.8 | 38.6 |
Education, years | 13.3 | 14.2 |
Non-Lithuanian, percent | 0 | 0 |
Female, percent | 17 | 0 |
Party or Komsomol member, percent | 67 | 30 |
Employment status, percent: | ||
Employed | 100 | 100 |
Supervisor or teacher | 100 | 100 |
Kompromat of historic originCircumstances and associations, percent: | ||
Of subject | 17 | 40 |
Of family member | 0 | 10 |
Resettlement in remote regions, percent: | ||
As adult | 0 | 0 |
As child of family | 17 | 20 |
Current family member was resettled | 17 | 20 |
Profession, confession, or action (whether legal at the time or not), percent: | ||
Of subject | 0 | 0 |
Of family member | 50 | 50 |
Imprisonment, percent: | ||
Of subject | 0 | 0 |
Of family member | 17 | 30 |
Kompromat of recent originCircumstances and associations, percent: | ||
Of subject | 0 | 0 |
Family member living abroad | 17 | 20 |
Profession, confession, or action, percent: | ||
Of subject | 0 | 50 |
Of family member | 17 | 10 |
Source and notes: See Tables 5.1.and 5.2 The figures shown in this table show the data of the subjects named in Lists A and B^ The two lists are exclusive. |
travel might be and occasionally was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to abandon the Soviet motherland forever. As a defector in a foreign capital, a pensioner or a seamstress could do far more visible damage than a teacher or an engineer in their everyday duties in a small town in a Soviet province. Ordinary caution provides a plausible explanation for high rates of refusal.
By contrast, the risks of allowing the “wrong” person to start a career as a teacher or a deputy chief engineer could be managed. A new appointee, about whom suspicions lingered, could be watched. The damage they could do was real but limited. Mistakes could be reversed later by transferring the subject away from secret work or halting further promotion.
The greater lenience shown in employment decisions may also reflect another factor, one with wider significance. While the Soviet government was content to be represented abroad by citizen tourists of proven loyalty, it rarely had the need for any particular person to go. In contrast the state needed teachers and engineers everywhere, including in Lithuania. The state preferred its teachers and engineers to be above suspicion, but perhaps Lithuania had too few people like that. Its traumatic history loomed over so many who had been forced to make impossible choices in the past, and who now had to live under its shadow.
Perhaps there was an absolute shortage of guaranteed loyalty. Particularly in the early years of Soviet rule, native Lithuanians who combined the education needed for responsible work with a clean record may have been hard to find. Once the “usual suspects” were discounted, there might not have been enough people left to provide all the loyal teachers and managers that were needed. The data suggest that, in the face of a shortage, the Lithuania KGB learned to be flexible. Notably, if the only evidence against a person was historical or circumstantial, they could be allowed to rise, at least to the first rungs on the promotion ladder. But they could not be let out of the country. This was how Soviet Lithuania made its compromise with the tainted human resources available.