The Breath of the Spirit Under Fire in Ostankino

ALEXANDER DUGIN is a leading National-Bolshevik visionary whose enormous reputation is well deserved. A Eurasianist, he is a well-respected member of the Russian Parliament and the chief influence behind the radical manifesto of Zyuganov’s Communist Party. He is also the figurehead of the Red-Brown alliance which now presents a formidable opposition to the corrupt government in the Kremlin.

This article is about the 1993 uprising against the Yeltsin regime. The State Parliament (later renamed with the traditional Russian term "Duma" - as a form of mockery) became opposed to Yeltsin, his allies and to the foreign and interior polices too. The parliamentarians refused to fulfill Yeltsin's orders and barricaded themselves in the Parliament building. So Yeltsin sent in the tanks and the troops to shoot at the building. On the other hand many volunteers from the ordinary people went there to fight for real democracy and traditional values against the corrupted regime - those were the days that proved that in periods of disasters different political forces are able to unite: Communists, nationalists, Orthodox believers and the ordinary people. This was the birth of the Red-Brown axis in Russia. There were two main places where the battles took place: the House of Parliament and Ostankino, a district in the south of Moscow where the TV-tower is located. People were trying to block the Liberal-Zionist propaganda and so tried to take over the tower itself. They lost. Apparently 1500 people were killed in both places. The Government still denies this figure, but you can read certain passages from the brilliant "One Hundred Years of Solitude" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez to get an idea how these things were done. Many people commemorate the tragic date each year - Communists and Nationalists and those who feel the great injustice in all which happened and still happens.

OCTOBER 4th and 5th are mournful dates in comparatively modern Russian history.

Six years ago the pro-Western, liberal-capitalist, mondialistic and Atlanticist regime shot the supporters of the Russian way, the heroes of the Russian resistance. It was a day of severe defeat, when it seemed that not only our brothers and sisters and our children, but also the huge structure of Russian history had fallen.

Those days cannot be remembered calmly. I was in Ostankino, when someone from a dark building shot at our comrade who stood near the entrance with a grenade launcher on his shoulder. I was standing and deliberating whether the men and I should rush inside the building, which had smashed glass here and there, and to dive into the darkness. And then it began. It seemed like the shots were fired into the air, just to frighten the majority of unarmed people. But they were shooting at us. Firing bursts. Everyone rushed to the ground and began to crawl. There were a lot of young girls, teenagers and old men. The shooting was at each and all.

Defending myself from bullets, I rushed behind the car that stood several metres from the building. When I fell I slightly pushed a man who was hiding there earlier. And for a certain moment it happened in such a way that he had found himself within the reach of the bullets pouring from the windows. In such a situation there is no time to think, mere fractions of a second decide everything. But instead of pushing me aside angrily, maliciously or hysterically, what a live human body should involuntarily do, the man, exposing himself to fatal risk, had occupied his previous position and embraced me, as though shielding us from the shots.

I have clearly felt the breath of the Spirit, the one that is above the flesh and above life. The Spirit of Truth, that has blessed all which is ours: old women, desperately calling us to be courageous, youngsters in a small wood nearby and a boy on a bicycle, girls in leather skirts falling from the wild shots, sprawling in pools of blood on the asphalt.

In Ostankino it became clear to me, that this is defeat. And all that which happened the next wild morning was not so unexpected anyway.

There was horror, pain, rage, fury, a suffocating bad bitterness of defeat and powerlessness. But the outcome of that fight was terrifyingly clear.

They have won. Six years have passed.

It was disgusting and difficult to live during all those years. It was impossible to forget and to humble, also it was impossible to obstinately realise our will. At least in the same way. The events of that time became the most important in many people's lives.

Then there was the Chechenian campaign, which by its bloody and completely stupid nature has eclipsed the October tragedy for some time.

But we have forgiven nothing and forgotten nothing. We did not decrease in quantity, we did not become more obedient and we have not accepted the status quo. We had to soften the expressions and formulas, and we did it. We tried to penetrate into the echelons of power, but it was not completely possible. We tried to remain radical and irreconcilable, and this was not possible either. We, the defeated, humiliated, crushed party, can hardly brag about anything since those six years. We did what we could, we pressed ourselves against a wall. It doesn't matter that it was done disjointedly, discordantly or ridiculously, or how ashamed of ourselves we are, being unable to find the correct words and gestures. But we have kept the most important thing and no matter how dispersed, scattered, divided and separated we are we have kept precisely the Spirit that breathed then. It doesn't matter that it no longer burns, but it is obviously smouldering independently, it aches in us, torments us.

The revolutionary opposition has not developed in this sense, neither on the periphery nor in the conformist formations and environments. But the Spirit has not disappeared. Through a dreamy thickness its distant, sweet taste is hardly detected. We haven't rejected anything. We still stand where we stood. And if it becomes possible to move history in the direction we want, just slightly, one millimetre, a mere crumb, then everything will return immediately. And passionate hatred will fuse our souls with the perfect fire of new action.

Not a single enemy will escape our response. We shall forgive our enemies, shall forgive them sincerely when the mortal howling of repentance, torment and pain will be heard from their filthy mouths. Satan was acting through them. It is not easy to clear the human vessels from his stinking presence. Their bodies should suffer.

Nobody will escape the punishment.

We are still ready to wait. To wait a long time if it is required. Six years, ten years. And we shall play within the rules or without them, that depends. But we shall be ready to seize our chance at any moment. Now it is clear. Even tomorrow.

During the same October days hatred and love will speak in us with their voices of real fire-breath. And we are shivering from the current of our idea, our Russia, our highest national destination.

Hallowed be the names of our fallen!

Let the stinking hordes of the national traitors and dirty marionette executioners vanish!

Everything is calculated, counted and weighed.

Readers may contact ALEXANDER DUGIN by way of the National-Bolshevik Party, 113 216 Moscow, P/O 216, 8/P No. 9, Melentiev SB, Russia, or by visiting the following website: http://www.arctogaia.com