Though we all, from time to time, find ourselves in disagreement with our nations, their laws, their customs, and their relationships with foreign powers, we still love the lands into which we were born. After all, with every formative moment we spent within their borders, they wove us into their societal tapestries, ensuring that we would be part of them, that we would know them in ways that we could never belong anywhere else. Our nations brand us as surely as we brand them, in shared experience and outlook and it is this mutual connection that fosters patriotism.
But of course, as much as it is valuable for a nation to have an identity, and as nourishing as it is for us to have a nation to belong to, nations are nothing more than mental constructs, agreements on paper that draw invisible lines on maps, not on land. The Earth did not decree that there should be 200-odd countries divvying up its landmass. We chose, and in many cases forced, such divisions. And as much as these divisions give our lives structure, they also bring us conflict. For national identity, in the end, fosters competition which in turn breeds jealousy, which engenders rivalry, which cries out for war. Mr. Early's tale may be a fascinating recount of post-Soviet conflict between the New Russia and the distracted United States, but ultimately it demonstrates the powerful divisiveness of nation states in a nuclear world.
Until the day, in 1993, when Boris Yeltsin ordered the Russian army to fire upon its own people as a means of holding onto power, Sergei Tretyakov was unwaveringly loyal to his motherland. Intelligent, ambitious and hard-working, he maneuvered his way into the powerful arms of the KGB, absorbed its training and enthusiastically set about implementing its harsh wishes. As a respected member of its directorate of foreign affairs, Tretyakov adopted numerous, diplomatic guises, first in Canada and then in the United States, as a means of recruiting spies, purchasing national intelligence, and furthering the aims of Soviet Russia. In this, he was, for more than a decade, prolifically successful, sending hundreds of stolen cables, schemes and political intelligence back to his masters in Moscow.
But after he saw the Russian tanks firing on the symbols of Russian government, Tretyakov, then a colonel in the KGB, could no longer ignore the injurious but obvious truth that he was working at the behest of a political class comprised of liars, thieves and opportunists who were not only unworthy of the risks he had taken in their name, they were unworthy of the country for which they purported to act. From that day forth, Sergei Tretyakov was a man searching for a newer, better home. Seven years later, as New York station chief for the SVR, the foreign-affairs successor to the directorate under the KGB, he defected to the United States, taking with him both a wealth of intelligence about Russia and a message for his soon-to-be fellow Americans. The new Russia may well be democratic in name, it may well have softened its stances and disarmed some of its nukes, but it is, in no way, a friend to America. According to Tretyakov, the Cold War is still alive.
For all of its flaws, Comrade J is a compelling read. Mr. Early, a journalist and author, was strongly encouraged by his contacts in the American intelligence community to hear out Sergei Tretyakov who, despite the danger inherent in coming forward, was eager to have his story told. And it's easy to see why. For beyond the salacious scandals, the stolen secrets, the plots and counter plots one might expect from a biography of a spy's life, Tretyakov is a representation of Russia, both its Soviet-era servitude and its post-Soviet opportunism. He, like many of his fellows, could adhere to Communism's strictures as long as he felt the system was fair and logical, as long as he felt he was working for people who had their country's best interests at heart. But when that was revealed to be little more than a lie, he carved out the best deal he could for himself and his family, just like Russia.
Unfortunately, though, so little of Tretyakov's story is verifiable that the reader is left wondering how much of his tale is actually true. Yes, Mr. Early has clearly gone to great lengths to confirm what he could, and the fact that American intelligence agencies were so eager to welcome Tretyakov, tells us that the man is credible, but there's simply no way of knowing how many of these events were twisted, distorted, or even made up. In light of this, it is impossible to know if Tretyakov's warning about the new Russia should be taken seriously.
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