MOSCOW. (RIA Novosti political commentator Maxim Krans) - When in Budapest, I always visit the Gellert Hill. The Danube River slowly flows below. It looks incredibly blue on a sunny day.
The radiant festive prospects of Pest are across the river spanned by the Erzsebet Bridge, which bears the name of the much-loved Queen Sisi.
Standing behind is the awesome Freedom monument - a woman with an olive branch in her hands. Quite recently, there was a bronze figure of the Soviet soldier at the bottom and it was called the Liberation monument to commemorate the 180,000 Soviet soldiers killed in action in Hungary, including the marines that had climbed the precipitous cliffs with alpine equipment and knocked the Nazis from the Gellert Hill in a free-for-all.
"Freedom" and "liberation" are similar words but have a different meaning. No doubt, as other Eastern bloc countries, Hungary received genuine freedom after the collapse of the totalitarian regime, when it managed to free itself from the Soviet Union's iron grip. But what's wrong with the liberation from Nazism? Why blame the Bronze Soldier that was thrown into the park of monuments - a sculpture dumping site - in the early 1990s?
It was then that the campaign was launched against the monuments to Soviet soldiers, against their remains and names awarded to streets - not this spring with Tallinn's Tonismagi Square. It seemed to be aimed against the symbols of the hated era but in real fact it targeted the memory of the world's worst war.
A monument to Ostapenko and Steimiz - flag-of-truce bearers shot by Nazis - was also torn down in Budapest; the T-34 tank was removed from its pedestal and painted an offensive pink in Prague; an attempt to blow up the Victory monument was made in Riga. In Bulgaria, even the famous Alyosha came under threat but was eventually saved.
During the same years, the remains of tens of thousands of Soviet officers and men were reburied. In principle there is nothing illegal or inhuman in this act. In the wartime, bodies were often buried alongside roads, in city courtyards or even squares. It was probably sensible to transfer their remains to more befitting places, all the more so since European cemeteries are traditionally kept in excellent shape. Take, for example, the Olsany Cemetery in Prague, which holds the remains of the first-wave Russian emigrants, hundreds of Soviet warriors and Vlasov soldiers who, as it transpired very recently, took an active part in the Prague uprising.
The international practice of reburying soldiers' remains was born decades ago. It rests on contractual agreement of the interested parties, clear-cut principles and even rituals. Thus, in 1992, Russia signed an agreement with Germany on maintaining the graves of soldiers who perished in the war. In this way we have protected them for decades ahead. This document also provided for the transfer of many single graves or small burials to military cemeteries. This did not cause any objections, either.
Incidentally, the Germans are a good example to many of their neighbors. Even before Germany's unification, its citizens kept the graves of our soldiers, POWs and Ostarbeiters with genuine German meticulousness. Many monuments, including the most famous Soldier-Liberator in Treptow Park in Berlin, were restored by the 65th anniversary of the victory. In exchange, West Germany received access to Wehrmacht graves in Russia and has maintained them with the zeal that we can only envy.
In 1995, we signed a similar intergovernmental agreement with Hungary. It helped protect the Monument to the Soviet Warriors in downtown Budapest. It was dismantled during the reconstruction of Freedom Square several years ago, and some demanded its transfer - out of sight, out of mind. But the Russian government demanded observance of the spirit and letter of the agreement and the Hungarians took it back.
Here is another example. Few people know how many Russians are buried in China. These are not only the Soviet soldiers who fought against the Kwantung Army or volunteers who took part in the anti-Japanese and Korean wars, but also those who were killed in action during Russian-Japanese hostilities in 1904 and 1905. More than 20,000 tsarist army officers and men are buried in the cemeteries of Lushun that we know better as Port Arthur. For a long time, we could not come to terms with the Chinese who considered that war an aggression, and not without a reason. But eventually, after a series of diplomatic consultations, our governments signed a bilateral agreement on restoration work on the eve of Victory Day this year.
I have cited so many examples because the recent conflict around Tallinn's Bronze Soldier testifies to the dominance of obsolete stereotypes on both sides. The current Estonian leaders have been too petty and mean in taking it out on the dead and demonstrating independence from the former Soviet Union. For our part, we have barked at our yesterday's vassal out of old habit, staging rows at the embassy, and banning Baltic sprats and Vana Tallinn liqueur.
Some claim that Russia is exploiting this situation to make Estonia soften its adamant stand on the North European gas pipeline. If this is true, we must have lost our conscience and are using the sacred memory of the dead for narrow objectives.
Unfortunately, both the challenge and response are beyond the scope of international law and common sense. Isn't it simpler to reach agreement at the negotiating table in a civilized manner - without hysterics and door banging? Those who turn history into a political instrument rarely win.
The opinions expressed in this article are the author's and do not necessarily represent those of RIA Novosti.
