History has its own way of writing poetic justice to those who inflict unnecessary suffering on others for political theater. And in this sense there is something in common between Dostoevsky’s story in St. Petersburg Square and the moment where the people of Kosovo find themselves today
When you’re waiting for bad news, what’s worse the bad news or the excruciating suspense of figuring out the news? American psychologist Kate Sweeny has dedicated her life to understanding the answer to this question. Among other things, Sweeny has studied patients who were waiting for the result of the biopsy to understand what is worse – the final result of the biopsy or the anxiety of waiting for the result.
Her years of research have brought her to the same conclusion every time – the anxiety of waiting is as emotionally devastating to patients as the bad news itself.
Even the old emperors instinctively understood what modern science has managed to prove today. December 22, 1849 was a typical Russian winter day. Saint Petersburg’s Semyonovsky Square was covered in deep snow and the morning of that day was made even more beautiful by the snowflakes that kept falling and creating a beautiful winter postcard. But this picture-postcard whiteness of Semyonovsky Square was disturbed by the arrival of gray-clad soldiers that heralded an ominous event. Calmly and with typical discipline, the soldiers began to prepare the square for a macabre event – a public execution.
The condemned were brought to the square to prepare for execution by firing squad. Near them were placed the coffins in which their bodies will soon rest. The morbid silence was broken by the military trumpets announcing the start of the execution ceremony. The square was already filled with curious citizens.
The presiding officer of the execution ceremony read out the execution decision in a stern and formal voice. His voice carried through the cold square of St. Petersburg. Convicts were being executed for subversive activities. Then the priest appeared in the square and performed the religious rite, at the end of which the convicts knelt down and kissed the offered cross. The condemned were tied to the gallows and black blindfolds were placed over their eyes. The morbid silence was once again interrupted by the sound of military drums which signaled the platoon to be placed in firing position. The platoon commanding officer raised his sword signaling the soldiers to take aim. The soldiers raised their rifles and took aim. The condemned were now in the last seconds between life and death—in that agony of excruciating suspense awaiting the firing of the execution rifles. Suddenly out of nowhere this suspense was interrupted by the sound of a military officer riding swiftly towards the square with a white flag signaling the cessation of firing. He brought an envelope into the commanding officer’s hand. The commanding officer took the letter out of the envelope and read it aloud. The Russian Tsar Nicholas I was pardoning the lives of the condemned. From all that just happened, one of the convicts will go mentally insane on the spot, while the other who was by his side would write about this experience in “Crime and Punishment”.
With the diabolical simulation of execution the Russian Tsar Nicholas I wanted to terrorize Fyodor Dostoevsky and his friends because he understood instinctively what the American psychologist Kate Sweeny and modern science have recently understood. Keeping a person in suspense while waiting for bad news is as emotionally torturous as the bad news itself.
I was thinking about this episode of Dostoevsky’s life last night when it finally dawned on me that the country is going to the polls again. Just like Dostoevsky, the citizens of Kosovo for a long time were unjustly kept in the agony of a torturous suspense. And in this sense, there is something in common between Dostoevsky’s story in St. Petersburg Square and the moment where the people of Kosovo find themselves today.
History has its own way of writing poetic justice to those who inflict unnecessary suffering on others for political theater. Tsar Nicholas I personally choreographed every theatrical detail of the execution of an innocent man, but soon Dostoevsky will have his poetic revenge. Nicholas will meet his ignominious end in the Crimean War, while Dostoevsky will be canonized with immortal glory. Thus, like Tsar Nicholas I, the political parties in Kosovo for months kept the innocent citizens of Kosovo in anxiety by orchestrating an absurd institutional theater for narrow political purposes. Now, like Dostoevsky, the citizens of Kosovo will have their poetic revenge.
