New Statesman writers appear at Stoke Newington Literary Festival

From Laurie Penny on protest to Helen Lewis on videogames, via Daniel Trilling on the far right, join NS staff and contributors at the North London festival.

The North London neighbourhood of Stoke Newington boasts a rich literary history: Daniel Defoe once lived at 95 Church Street; Edgar Allen Poe went to school just down the road.  The annual Stoke Newington Literary Festival, now in its fourth year, pays homage to the area’s tradition of radical thinking and literary values with a five-day programme of events, tours and talks.

The New Statesman is pleased to partner with the festival, in which several of our editors and writers will be participating. Highlights include:

Reads Like a Seven

Friday, 8pm. £4. Venue – Babble Jar

New Statesman deputy editor Helen Lewis joins Steven Poole, award-winning broadcaster/game developer Ste Curran and others in a revival of ‘Reads Like a Seven', where they read out one of their pieces of games journalism. It's curated and presented by New Yorker games contributor Simon Parkin (read Simon's pieces for the NS here). Following a sell-out debut at last year’s GameCity 7 - where blogger Kieron Gillen described it as “a reminder of the breadth of what gaming is, what it means and, indirectly, how writers on games have wrestled down the immaterial” – this second iteration promises to “dispels any doubts that video games deserve to be considered alongside other art forms, either for their breadth of invention or the passions they provoke”.

Multiculturalism and the Rise of the Far Right

Sunday, 5pm. £5. Venue – Abney Public Hall

David Goodhart, director of think tank Demos, will be in conversation with New Statesman assistant editor Daniel Trilling. Goodhart has recently authored a controversial book, The British Dream: Successes and Failures of Post-war Immigration, advocating for reduced immigration to the UK and posing the argument that immigration can undermine national solidarity. Trilling’s book, Bloody Nasty People: the Rise of Britain’s Far Right, charts how the likes of the BNP and the EDL have exploited anti-immigration sentiment to pin the nation's ills on to the shoulders of the vulnerable.

Why It’s Still Kicking Off Everywhere

Saturday, 3pm. £5. Venue – Abney Public Hall

BBC Newsnight’s economic editor Paul Mason contextualises worldwide dissent — the Arab Spring, Athens, and Quebec, as well as social unrest in the UK — in his updated best-seller Why It’s (Still) Kicking Off Everywhere: The New Global Revolutions. He’s joined by New Statesman contributing editor Laurie Penny in offering insights and anecdotes on dissent and its role in the global future. How will social networking, the economic crisis and a new political consciousness ignite the next generation of radicals?

Tariq Ali in Conversation with Owen Jones                                                             

Sunday, 2pm.   Venue – Stoke Newington Town Hall                                                 

Tariq Ali, filmmaker and author of over a dozen books on world history and politics including The Clash of Fundamentalisms and The Obama Syndrome, engages leading new Left voice and New Statesman contributor Owen Jones in a wide-ranging geopolitical discussion - in light of the reissue of Ali’s The Stalinist Legacy. Jones is the author of Chavs: The Demonisation of the Working Class.

For the full events programme visit the festival website: www.stokenewingtonliteraryfestival.com/the-programme

The power of books, by Tododesign. (via. Stoke Newington Literary Festival on Facebook)
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"By now, there was no way back for me": the strange story of Bogdan Stashinsky

Serhii Plokhy’s The Man with the Poison Gun is a gripping, remarkable Cold War spy story.

On the morning of 12 August 1961, a few hours before the supreme leader of East Germany, Walter Ulbricht, announced the sealing of the border between East and West Berlin, a funeral took place for a four-month-old boy at the Rohrbeck Evangelical Cemetery in Dallgow. Numerous KGB agents and officers of the East German ministry of security were in attendance, but the boy’s parents were missing. Instead, Bogdan Stashinsky and Inge Pohl were preparing their imminent escape from Soviet-occupied territory and into the West. They had intended to flee the following day, but the funeral provided a moment of opportunity when their surveillance was relaxed. If they wanted to go, they had to go now.

“The KGB operatives present at the child’s funeral were puzzled by the parents’ absence,” a Soviet intelligence officer later wrote. “By the end of the day on 13 August 1961, it was clear that the Stashinskys had gone to the West. Everyone who knew what tasks the agent had carried out in Munich in 1957 and 1959, and what could happen if Stashinsky were to talk, was in shock.”

Those “tasks” were the state-sponsored assassinations of Lev Rebet and Stepan Bandera, two exiled leaders of the Ukrainian anti-communist movement who had been living in Munich. Stashinsky, one of the KGB’s top hitmen, and the focus of Serhii Plokhy’s gripping book, had been given the task of tracking and killing them with a custom-built gun that sprayed a lethal, yet undetectable poison. It was only after Stashinsky’s defection to the Central Intelligence Agency, and then to the West German security services, that the cause of Rebet and Bandera’s deaths was finally known.

For decades, the KGB denied any involvement in the assassinations, and the CIA has never been entirely sure about Stashinsky’s motives. Was he telling the truth when he confessed to being the assassin, or was he, as some still claim, a loyal agent, sent to spread disinformation and protect the true killer? Plokhy has now put to rest the many theories and speculations. With great clarity and compassion, and drawing from a trove of recently declassified files from CIA, KGB and Polish security archives, as well as interviews conducted with former heads of the South African police force, he chronicles one of the most curious espionage stories of the Cold War.

Stashinsky’s tale is worthy of John le Carré or Ian Fleming. Plokhy even reminds us that The Man With the Golden Gun, in which James Bond tries to assassinate his boss with a cyanide pistol after being brainwashed by the Soviets, was inspired by the Stashinsky story. But if spy novels zero in on a secret world – tradecraft, double agents, defections, and the moral fallout that comes from working in the shadows – Plokhy places this tale in the wider context of the Cold War and the relentless ideological battle between East and West.

The story of Stashinsky’s career as a triggerman for the KGB plays out against the backdrop of the fight for Ukrainian independence after the Second World War. He was a member of the underground resistance against the Soviet occupation, but was forced to become an informer for the secret police after his family was threatened. After he betrayed a resistance cell led by Ivan Laba, which had assassinated the communist author Yaroslav Halan, Stashinsky was ostracised by his family and was offered the choice of continuing his higher education, which he could no longer afford, or joining the secret police.

“It was [only] a proposal,” he said later, “but I had no alternative to accepting it and continuing to work for the NKVD. By now, there was no way back for me.” He received advanced training in Kyiv and Moscow for clandestine work in the West and became one of Moscow’s most prized assets. In 1957, after assassinating Rebet, he was awarded the
Order of the Red Banner, one of the oldest military decorations in the Soviet Union.

Plokhy’s book is about more than the dramas of undercover work; it is also an imaginative approach to the history of Cold War international relations. It is above all an affective tale about the relationship between individual autonomy and state power, and the crushing impact the police state had on populations living behind the Iron Curtain. Stashinsky isn’t someone of whom we should necessarily approve: he betrayed his comrades in the Ukrainian resistance, lied to his family about who he was and killed for a living. Yet we sympathise with him the more he, like so many others, turns into a defenceless pawn of the Communist Party high command, especially after he falls in love with his future wife, Inge.

One of the most insightful sections of Plokhy’s book converges on Stashinsky’s trial in West Germany in 1962 over the killings of Rebet and Bandera, and how he was given a reduced sentence because it was deemed that he had been an instrument of the Soviet state. The decision was influenced by German memories of collective brainwashing under the Third Reich. As one of the judges put it: “The accused was at the time in question a poor devil who acted automatically under pressure of commands and was misled and confused ideologically.”

What makes Plokhy’s book so alarmingly resonant today is how Russia still uses extrajudicial murder as a tool of foreign policy. In 2004 Viktor Yushchenko, the pro-Western future president of Ukraine, was poisoned with dioxin; two years later Aleksandr Litvinenko, the Russian secret service defector, unknowingly drank radioactive polonium at a hotel in London. The Russian journalist Anna Politkovskaya survived a poisoning in 2004 after drinking tea given to her by an Aeroflot flight attendant (she was murdered two years later). The collapse of the Soviet Union did not bring the end of the Russian threat (Putin, remember, is ex-KGB). As le Carré noted in a speech in the summer of 1990, “The Russian Bear is sick, the Bear is bankrupt, the Bear is frightened of his past, his present and his future. But the Bear is still armed to the teeth and very, very proud.”

The Man with the Poison Gun: a Cold War Spy Story by Serhii Plokhy is published by Oneworld (365pp, £18.99)

This article first appeared in the 12 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's revenge