"Voices from Chernobyl: The Oral History of a Nuclear Disaster" by Svetlana Alexievich, translated from the Russian by Keith Gessen
On that day, April 26, I was in Moscow on business. That's where I learned about the accident.
I called Slyunkov, the General Secretary of the Central Committee of the Belarussian Communist Party, in Minsk. I called once, twice, three times, but they wouldn't connect me. I reached his assistant, he knew me well.
"I'm calling from Moscow. Get me Slyunkov, I have information he needs to hear right away. Emergency information".
It took me about two hours to finally reach Slyunkov.
"I've already received reports," says Slyunkov. "There was a fire, but they've put it out".
I couldn't hold it in. "That's a lie! It's an obvious lie!!"
On April 29 — I remember everything exactly, by the dates — at 8 a.m., I was already sitting in Slyunkov's reception area. They wouldn't let me in. I sat there like that until half past five. At half past five, a famous poet walked out of Slyunkov's office.
I knew him. He said to me, "Comrade Slyunkov and I discussed Belarussian culture".
"There won't be any Belarussian culture," I exploded, "or anyone to read your books, if we don't evacuate everyone from Chernobyl right away! If we don't save them!"
"What do you mean? They've already put it out".
I finally got in to see Slyunkov.
"Why are your men [from the institute] running around town with their Geiger counters, scaring everyone? I've already consulted with Moscow, with Academic Ilyin. He says everything's normal. And there's a government commission at the station, and the prosecutor's office is there. We've thrown the army, all our military equipment, into the breach".
They weren't a gang of criminals. It was more like a conspiracy of ignorance and obedience. The principle of their lives, the one thing the Party machine had taught them, was never to stick their necks out. Better to keep everyone happy. Slyunkov was just then being called to Moscow for a promotion. He was so close! I'd bet there'd been a call from the Kremlin, right from Gorbachev, saying, you know, I hope you Belarussians can keep from starting a panic, the West is already making all kinds of noises. And of course if you didn't please your higher-ups, you didn't get that promotion, that trip abroad, that dacha. People feared their superiors more than they feared the atom.
I carried a Geiger counter in my briefcase. Why? Because they'd stopped letting me in to see the important people, they were sick of me. So I'd take my Geiger counter along and put it up to the thyroids of the secretaries or the personal chauffeurs sitting in the reception rooms. They'd get scared, and sometimes that would help, they'd let me through. And then people would say to me: "Professor, why are you going around scaring everyone? Do you think you're the only one worried about the Belarussian people? And anyway, people have to die of something, whether it's smoking, or an auto accident, or suicide".
Source: The Paris Review
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