Most
of people when they hear the word “smuggler” will probably think
of someone selling cheap cigarettes across the border. Maybe some Al
Capone type importing alcohol in Prohibition-time USA. Some others
might think of fictional characters the like of Han Solo, smuggling
Jedi across the Empire, or the Onion Knight, the fingerless hand of
a couple of Kings in Game of Thrones. Few, if any, would think of
middle aged professors of semiotics.
It
is true that cultural smuggling is a thing, especially when
confronted with authoritarian states. In Kaunas, Lithuania, there is
a statue dedicated to the book-smugglers that were crossing the
border of Soviet Union in order to provide books in Lithuanian – a
language that was prohibited by the Soviet State in favour of
Russian.
It
might be unsurprising, then, if our story of semiotic smuggling
happened in another Baltic state under Soviet rule: Estonia. By the
1970s, Tartu had become one pf the Owrd's most important hubs of
semiotic studies (“a
singular Mecca-like field
for us 'pilgrims'
laboring in the domain of
semiotics” as Sebeok will later write). The discipline was
deemed by Soviet authorities as bourgeois, based on the
(questionable) claim that it was in contrast with Marxism
materialism. Several semioticians, then, abandoned Moscow for a more
low-profile location: Tartu, in Estonia.
The
newly born Tartu-Moskow school of semiotics still had a few problems
with censorship. Using the word “semiotics” was absolutely out of
question, so they started to use “sign systems studies” instead.
Still today Tartu semiotic journal has that name even if it
conserves, in the cover, a massive trolling of soviet censorship.
Tartu scholars, aware that censors weren't very cultivated people,
had the brilliant idea for writing the forbidden word on their
journal anyway: they simply wrote in in ancient Greek. The censors
wouldn't recognise the alphabet and so they would avoid any sanction.
Authorities
still kept Tartu scholars under surveillance and Juri Lotman, the
most well-known semiotician of the time, had is house searched
several times.
This
was making it hard also communicating with the exterior: every
publication that they wished to translate and to publish in the West
had to be checked and approved by the censors, which was making it
very hard to disseminate Tartu-Moskow school theories. The permission
for participating in conferences abroad was also rather difficult to
get.
Thomas A. Sebeok |
You
can imagine, then, how many suspicions were raised when an American
professor, Thomas A. Sebeok, who was in Estonia to attend a congress
on Finno-Ugric studies, was informally invited to attend Tartu's
Semiotic Summer School (called Summer School on Secondary Modelling
Systems, always for censorship reasons). This was a great opportunity
for Tartu-Moskow scholars to get out some of their works, as well as
for the West to learn what research was going on down there. Sothe
18th August 1970 Sebeok and his wife were driven from
Tallin to Tartu by a KGB agent. As he later remembered:
“While
in Tartu, a number of colleagues handed me manuscripts to convey to
the West. Most of these were intended for publication in Semiotica;
some were meant for
delivery to other editors. Such scholarly papers (the only kind I
ever accepted) were entrusted to me to sidestep nightmarish Soviet
bureaucratic restrictions. I was aware of the illicit nature of such
dodges and the risks if I were caught, but bowed to abet them because
of my refusal to condone censorship of intellectual property of any
kind. Too, many of the pieces by authors, such as the ones I list in
fn. 7 below, that would soon come out in Semiotica,
would scarcely have
appeared in English otherwise and, very likely, would have remained
unknown to all but a very limited readership.”
Sebeok,
then, find himself entrusted with a series of papers to illegally
smuggle to the other side of the Iron Curtain. He knew for sure that
his luggage, as all outgoing baggage, would have been searched in the
Tallinn harbour. He therefore decided to ask advice to Paul Ariste,
the organiser of the Finno-Ugric Studies conference and, most
importantly, the friend that had managed to get the permission for
Sebeok to come to the Baltic States and even to leave Tallin one day
and reach Tartu. Sebeok imagined that Ariste would have advised him
against an action that was potentially harmful for the authors of the
manuscripts as well as for Sebeok and his wife themselves. At the
contrary, Ariste serenely told him not to worry, that he would have
taken care of everything.
We
can only imagine how Sebeok must have felt, waiting in line while the
passengers ahead of them were having their baggages thoroughly
searched. His bag full of illicit manuscripts was about to be
searched too: what would have happened to them? When finally a
Russian officer summoned him, he was ready for trouble. He slowly
placed his baggage on the counter, but before the official could do
anything the door busted open: it was Ariste. The professor was
carrying and enormous bouquet of flowers that he promptly offered to
the astonished Mrs Sebeok.
“At
the top of his voice, he proclaimed what an honor it was for his
country to have had two such distinguished and gracious American
visitors in attendance at the Congress. While holding up the line
behind us, the noisy hurly-burly fomented such befuddlement and delay
that the impatient officer hurriedly waved us, with our untouched
luggage, through to board the ship. I thanked Ariste warmly, saying
goodbye. I never saw him again.”
Finally,
thanks to Sebeok's courage and Ariste's distraction skills, the
manuscripts were safely smuggled outside Estonia and published on the
West. Who would have imagine that being a semiotic professor could be
so adventurous?
I
come to know this history of semiotic smuggling thanks to my friend
Taras Boyko, to which I'm grateful. He's conducing an extensive and fascinating research
on the history of the Tartu-Moskow School. I highly recommend his
work, you can find some of his papers here
and here.
Sebeok's
recollection of his adventures in Estonia can be found in a very interesting
and funny paper entitled “The Estonian Connection” and published on Sign
Systems Studies 26.
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