“Was Arvo Pärt a very troublesome person for the Soviet authorities?”
This is very difficult to comment on, because he did not engage in politics, nor in any form of dissident activity. He did not do anything that would have offended anyone in any way.
Was Arvo Pärt a despised composer?
I really cannot imagine that anyone despised him. He was a very highly regarded composer, and he was performed quite often, both here and elsewhere. In every possible way. So that is simply not true in any way.
Eleonora Pärt has said after leaving the country that all the contradictions in Soviet Estonia were likely deliberate steps aimed at forcing the composer to leave the country, since the entire Soviet system was inflexible and had no place for personalities like Arvo Pärt.
I do not know what kind of personality she is talking about, who supposedly did not fit into the Soviet Union. There were many personalities here, and they all fit in and were appreciated.
After leaving his homeland, Pärt appeared only in the Western Estonian diaspora media. For Soviet Estonia, he was considered “dead.” He was removed by Party order from lists of artists and even from lists of living persons.
No, he could hardly have been “dead,” because he was still remembered here. And his friends were here.
Was the great composer Arvo Pärt forced to leave Estonia?
I do not believe that anyone was ever forced out of the Soviet Union at that time. At that time, the aim was to prevent people from leaving, or from staying abroad illegally. If someone stayed abroad illegally, there would be serious consequences. But Pärt left rather quietly, without much fuss on this side.
How did you find out that he planned to leave the Soviet Union?
I did not know at all that he planned it. That he left—I found out, of course, like everyone else, after he had already gone. I knew nothing about his plans beforehand. I also did not know anything about how things were prepared on the other side. Perhaps they thought about it very differently there than we did here. Almost every evening we still met at the Kuku Club for dinner, and he would have had many opportunities to hint at it—but he did not. He said nothing at all.
Why do you think he did not tell you? Why did he hide it?
I do not know. I do not know the background of what preparations might have been made. Why couldn’t he have told? It was easy for him in a sense, because his wife was Jewish, and perhaps that is why he could go—people of Jewish background or connections were sometimes allowed to leave. But I did not know these things at the time; these “truths” have only been learned later. Now all kinds of archival materials and files from the former Soviet Union have become available, and they give a picture of the atmosphere of that time.
In any case, his departure did not cause major waves or scandals here, unlike in cases of those who simply stayed. For example, in the case of Rein Rannap, there was a lot of trouble, and he was accused in very harsh terms. I remember I was even called to the district committee. I defended him there. His life was made quite miserable here; it was not easy for him. He performed as a pianist and with ensembles, and he may have had unpleasant encounters, I cannot say for sure. But Rein is a very pleasant person and still is today. I tried to defend him, and even that was frowned upon at the time. But the district committee did not really affect me—there was only a party reprimand.
You are also Jewish—why did you not leave the Soviet Union?
I simply did not want to. I had no such intention.
Soon, Arvo Pärt was also recommended to leave the Composers’ Union. In an awkward meeting in a corridor, he was given a suggestion to voluntarily resign.
I do not know where in a corridor that might have taken place, and I was not there. Otherwise I would remember it. Why would something like that have to be said in a corridor? It could have been said anywhere, if someone really wanted to say something so foolish. But now this is being heavily emphasized to justify the idea that he was forced to leave the Soviet Union. These are journalistic exaggerations that should not be taken seriously. He was certainly not forced out.
Why do you think the journalist says this?
I do not know. Let that be on the journalist’s conscience.
By a 1979 decision of the Estonian Composers’ Union, Arvo Pärt was expelled for “betrayal of the homeland.”
I do not know who has seen such a document. I only remember later there were communications with Moscow. Moscow kept calling the Composers’ Union, demanding when the board would meet and decide to expel him. We had not done it for a long time. He had already left by then. I do not remember exactly how we discussed it. In the end, we were all—Arvo, me, Tormis, and others—good friends. We were even neighbors in the same building. We did not have personal conflicts. And I would not have wanted him to leave.
In February 1979, Arvo Pärt gave a speech at the 11th congress of the Estonian SSR Composers’ Union. On the way there, wearing a wig provided by Tallinnfilm, he “thanked” the government and party for the honorary titles he had received. This speech only reinforced his image as persona non grata. Party officials became increasingly hostile, and he was made to understand that they would not mind if he and his wife left the USSR.
I do not know who gave him such signals. But he was certainly not a persona non grata. He was a respected person, he composed music, and his music was very good and performed.
Were you present when Tabula Rasa was performed? Was the KGB there?
I do not know, maybe they were somewhere in the audience or outside on the street (laughs). In the hall, I do not know who was KGB and who was not. Maybe someone was, but not to forbid or disrupt anything.
At that time, Pärt already had difficulty making a living, and his popularity in the West did not help.
I do not believe that. He was paid the same as others. He earned according to how much he composed. It was not worse for him than for anyone else.
JR: Arvo Pärt’s emigration was the right step; his religious music had no future in the USSR. However, claims about his severe financial difficulties were not justified—he earned well from film music. His wife encouraged emigration.
Was he a composer in disgrace?
No, he was not a composer in disgrace. Not in any meaningful sense.
Was it because he wrote church music? Today people say you were not allowed to go to church.
You were allowed to. Church had nothing to do with it. I do not remember a single year from my childhood when we did not have a Christmas tree at home—of course called a “New Year’s tree.” Even during Soviet times. We always had a tree at home. Christmas was celebrated in families. Of course, windows had to be covered, not because of the tree, but because of air raid precautions and blackout rules.
Nora Pärt has recalled that in 1979 a senior party official visited their home and suggested emigration. It was meant to look voluntary but was effectively expulsion.
Well, I do not know what anyone may have said to him. He was not a figure who needed to be loudly expelled. There were cases in Moscow where well-known figures were expelled, but this was not like that.
Within a few weeks, his apartment was allegedly emptied and had many people waiting for it.
Oh, how could that have happened? Pärt lived two floors above me; we lived in the same Composers’ Union building. I do not remember anything like that happening. No, that did not happen.
Was he a persecuted composer?
No, he was definitely not a persecuted composer.
What were your relations with him until his emigration?
Completely friendly. We often went to the Kuku Club, a basement restaurant where cultural people met in the evenings and also during the day. We often met there. Once I remember we even had lunch at the Palace Hotel. Everything was very calm.
After Arvo Pärt and Neeme Järvi left the Soviet Union, how did you restore their awards?
I did not restore any awards—that was not within my power. I did restore their honorary titles: People’s Artist Neeme Järvi, and Honored Artist Arvo Pärt. I did that, of course, with the support of the chairman of the Supreme Soviet at the time.