Piotra Sadouski — a man who experienced "historical happiness"

Piotra Sadouski was among those who entered politics to realize their ideas. For Sadouski, these were the Belarusian language and Independence.

I first saw him at the journalism faculty in the early 80s. He taught a Belarusian language course and had a reputation as a meticulous lecturer. I consistently struggled with rules (in all languages without exception) and feared our group would end up with him; fortunately, the Lord spared us.

Later I watched his appearances on television (it seems, in the program "Rodnae Slova" (Native Word)), and then I read his surname under a letter from representatives of the intelligentsia to Gorbachev about the catastrophic state of the Belarusian language. This was in 1986 — notably, many years later, Gorbachev recalled this very appeal in a conversation, so strong was the impression it made on the then-General Secretary.

And at the end of 1989, Sadouski became part of a working group under the Supreme Soviet of the XI convocation, which was preparing the draft Law on Languages. This was no longer scientific or educational work, but legislative work, though not yet in a deputy status.

The Law on Languages was adopted on January 26, 1990, and less than two months later, BPF member Piotra Sadouski was elected to the Supreme Soviet-12 (VS-12).

From other colleagues in the Oval Hall, he distinguished himself by his energetic, perhaps even impulsive, style in his speeches, which, however, did not contradict logic but gave it a clear, memorable coloring.

This is one of Sadouski's paradoxes — for with such a lively, explosive style of parliamentary behavior, he would become the head of a commission whose areas of responsibility — international politics and diplomacy — are subject to strict, minutely defined regulations.

In the spring of '90, during the first days of the first session, we nominated candidates from the BPF and the Demclub for practically all commissions. The Central Committee of the Communist Party of Belarus (CC CPB) had its own list — as a rule, these were high-ranking party leaders.

The Commission on International Affairs and Foreign Economic Relations already had a certain contradiction in its very name. For the BSSR conducted no independent international policy whatsoever, independent of Moscow — despite being, unlike the RSFSR, a member of the UN.

It was said that in all the decades of this membership, only once, in the 1960s, at a UN General Assembly session, did a representative of Belarus vote against a resolution put forward by Moscow (and by whom — Gromyko himself!). The sensation, however, was short-lived — the Minsk diplomat simply fell asleep, tired from the flight and time difference, and when he woke up, he became disoriented and voted incorrectly. Membership in the International Commission was perceived by the parliamentary majority as a kind of sinecure, a guaranteed participation in foreign business trips, which were then available to few.

It seems that during the discussion of candidates, one of the veterans complained that while people were working in the national economy, in fields, farms, and factories, the philologist Sadouski found nothing better to do than study foreign languages! Or perhaps that was said in address to Liavon Barshcheuski, whom we also nominated and who also ignored creative work on socialist construction sites in favor of linguistics.

And yet, Piotra Sadouski was elected, thus becoming the sole representative of the BPF in the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet (where heads of commissions were members by virtue of their office). Even in the BSSR, with the existence of the CC CPB, this was an important body — and in the first years of independent Belarus, it played the role of a collective president.

And the fact that Sadouski remained among these two dozen, when we, ordinary deputies, were asked to leave the hall during the consideration of "closed" issues, that he had access to secret documents, that, finally, he was perceived by ministers and vice-premiers as an equal, if not higher — was of immense importance for the BPF Opposition. At the very least, we received information that we would not have had otherwise. And also — Piotra expressed our position at the very top.

This proved especially invaluable in August '91 — first when we demanded that Mikalai Dzyamyantsei condemn the pro-imperial putsch (the so-called GKChP), and then — to convene an extraordinary session of the Supreme Soviet to declare Independence.

These were, so to speak, extreme situations, but there was also routine work on draft laws, entirely unseen by the general public — when variations of formulations are considered, each word weighed, accepted, or rejected…

As head of the commission, Piotra Sadouski contributed more than anyone to the creation of the legislative foundation for Belarus's international policy, specifically the policy of a sovereign state. With what indignation he announced documents of diplomatic correspondence from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, where, in his opinion, the department sacrificed independence for the interests of the Moscow foreign policy agency (and often — another, much more influential Moscow agency)!

And here I come to a turning point in Sadouski's political biography, which enshrined him in national history as the first ambassador to Germany.

Formally, this was a demotion — because as chairman of the commission, Sadouski was superior to a minister, as a parliamentary commission performed oversight functions over the department. At the same time — an ambassador is an ambassador, and it is also a lifelong diplomatic rank (though the cases of Latushka and Tsapkala would show that it's not always lifelong).

The fact that Sadouski accepted Kebich's and Krauchanka's offer was perceived ambiguously by the parliamentary opposition. Everyone understood that a better candidate for this position than Germanist Sadouski, with his ideal knowledge of the German language (and even its dialects), and his already significant political, parliamentary, and diplomatic experience, could not be found. But at the same time, we lost the sole representative of the BPF in the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet — and lost him at a time when the confrontation with the pro-Kebich majority determined the choice: towards Europe, to Western civilization — or under Moscow.

But I understood Sadouski well, and here's why.

I can say for sure: professional (the so-called 'liberated') work at the head of the Supreme Soviet Commissions during Shushkevich's leadership brought about a feeling that probably resembles hitting a cotton wall. It yielded fewer and fewer results, and for an active person, it became increasingly psychologically unbearable.

The Supreme Soviet Commissions were losing their oversight functions — Kebich's government increasingly disregarded them (and the entire Supreme Soviet). No proposals passed unless they received approval from the Council of Ministers' apparatus. From my own experience as secretary of the Supreme Soviet Commission on Glasnost, Media, and Human Rights, I can say that all attempts to appeal to Supreme Soviet Chairman Shushkevich ended in nothing — Stanislau Stanislavavich would sarcastically quip: "Why are you coming to me? Convince the Supreme Soviet of the correctness of your proposal!", even though he knew perfectly well who constituted the majority in it. Although often, the issue could have been resolved with a single phone call from Shushkevich to Kebich. Often, leaving the "Masherau's" office on the fifth floor, occupied by the Supreme Soviet chairman, I wanted to slam the door so hard that the plaster would fall off. But the plaster there seemed to be holding up since Ponomarenko's time.

Sadouski's status was significantly higher than mine, but I assume the model of relationships didn't differ much. Around the time Sadouski left the position of Commission Chairman, the Supreme Soviet rejected the BPF's proposal to hold a referendum on early parliamentary elections, for which over 440 thousand signatures had been collected. Since citizens' right to elect their government was violated, I decided to leave my position as secretary of the parliamentary commission. There were difficult, arduous conversations with Pazniak — he presented arguments against resigning from a position that, although minimal, did have influence. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Perhaps in vain.

I did not ask, and will never ask Piotra, if he had a conversation with Pazniak about his departure; I don't recall asking Pazniak either. I think such a conversation did take place. But contrary to the persistent opinion about the BPF leader's management style, Pazniak never ordered anyone around. He tried to persuade, but if that failed, he didn't pressure. And he couldn't have given orders even if he wanted to — we were elected not by party lists but by districts (I, for example, was nominated by Vitebsk factories, the BPF had nothing to do with it), and the now legendary "factional discipline" in the BPF Opposition was based solely and only on our awareness of personal responsibility.

I understand that for the absolute majority of readers, this is of little interest, but if it is important for someone to understand the psychological motives behind Piotra Sadouski's decision, they, it seems to me, are also rooted in this.

His choice can be considered motivated not so much politically as individually — but in this choice, he remained himself.

Leaving his work in the Commission, Sadouski took on a concrete task — establishing the Belarusian embassy in Germany practically from scratch. He sought out people, "secured" a building, and established contacts with German politicians. He writes about all this in his book "My Shibboleth," which could be called a monument of Belarusian memoir writing, if it didn't evoke so many vivid emotions.

… In 1994, when ambassadors were gathered for the presentation to the newly elected president, Sadouski considered it impossible to literally stand in line with those who congratulated Lukashenka and expressed their readiness to obey him. He resigned from the diplomatic service.

And on the morning of April 11, 1995, he joined the hunger strike of BPF Opposition deputies against the referendum proposed by Lukashenka concerning the replacement of the white-red-white flag and "Pahonia" with Soviet symbols, the deprivation of the Belarusian language of its sole state status, economic integration with Russia, and the president's right to dissolve parliament.

This was not so much a choice (which Sadouski had made decades earlier) as an organic, natural continuation of his destiny.

… And yet, today I recall not the night when the hunger-striking deputies were beaten and thrown out of the Oval Hall. I recall the evening of August 25, 1991 — having achieved success in the vote for Independence, after some time we went out to the Square, where people had stood under white-red-white flags throughout the session days. The stage, it seemed, was a truck, and the loudspeakers of the sound system carried Sadouski's singing across the square at the top of his voice — "A ў bary-bary, try darozhańki…" (a traditional Belarusian folk song, meaning "In the forest, in the forest, three paths...").

Moments when, as Piotra once formulated it, "we were historically happy".

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