It’s no secret now that the events that took place on April 12, 1961, and what Soviet officials claimed happened, are two entirely different stories. What no one knew at the time was that even before Yuri Gagarin became the first man in space, the preparations for his flight were rushed. Even those creating the technology had no idea if the venture would end in catastrophe or not, due to the Soviets wanting to avoid humiliation and make it into space before the United States did. The Soviet engineers working on Gagarin’s capsule were still struggling with rocket guidance, yet they decided to proceed with the flight anyways, even though the landing would be “like throwing a dart blindfolded in the direction of a target.” (129)
Even the invigorating speech Gagarin gave before his flight was scripted, though he claimed it was spontaneous. Upon re-entry of the earth’s atmosphere, Gagarin’s capsule spun wildly out of control, and the probability of him losing his life during this unexpected turbulence was much higher than the Soviet press would ever admit. Gagarin’s landing in particular sparked much confusion and controversy among the public. Gagarin claims to have landed in his capsule, precisely where they had planned, and was met instantly with his search party. In actual fact, however, Gagarin landed 500 kilometers away from the planned location, and he had to eject himself and land by parachute. Even in a press conference given after the flight, Gagarin claimed that the equipment used during the flight could be reused, another lie. Due to the tensions of the Cold War, Soviet officials felt the need to fabricate the success of the flight and erase any flaw in their technology as to appear superior to the United States.
Even before they sent the first man into space, the Soviets manipulated their space program to create an image of the communist state to present to the rest of the world. In 1957, Soviet statesman Nikita Khrushchev publicly boasted about the Soviets supposedly producing as many missiles as they do sausages, an exaggeration to say the least, yet privately he said, “Let the Americans rack their brains over how many [missiles] we actually have. They will avoid starting a war.” (98) The Communist party wanted to appear peaceful, as they wanted to avoid war as well, yet they wanted to incite fear in their enemies by claiming to have masses of weapons prepared in case the need for them arose.
Around the time of Gagarin’s first flight, chief designer and rocket engineer Sergei Korolev would purposefully delay the release of information regarding the space program’s experiments, so that if their venture failed, the world would never know. Not only that, but Korolev would create an atmosphere of anticipation for these technological breakthroughs, so that when artificial satellites arrived or man finally travelled to space, he would appear clairvoyant and Russia could publicly celebrate in the face of their enemies. The Soviets knew that it was crucial to appear technologically superior to the U.S., and to reinforce this, they extracted any detail of Gagarin’s flight that would create a chink in their armor. In the minds of the Soviets, producing advanced space technology was equivalent to having a superior communist society as well. They wanted the West to fear them and know that they were thriving in every aspect.
Gagarin’s public image was that of a model Soviet. He was cheerful, eager, courageous, and devoted entirely to his motherland. He was “the epitome of grace under pressure,” (108) and yet he had a charming humility about him. During press conferences, he appeared sincere and endearing, saying everything the Russian public wanted to hear, yet revealing nothing. His image reflected that of the Russian mind at the time, in which one side of them wished to be open and authentic, and the other side remained strongly suspicious of the outside world. Gagarin’s masterful blend of being the average, provincial Russian, as well as the daring Soviet hero, “promoted the self-esteem of his society – something especially critical given the profound sense of insecurity Russians had long experienced relative to the outside world.” (157)
Russia’s growing, nationalistic pride during this time seemed to only heighten their insecurities. When coverage of Gagarin’s feat began to vanish from Western news outlets, Russia saw it as an attempt to bring their country down out of jealousy. Gagarin’s image may have inadvertently contributed to Russia’s wariness of the Western world, but it also provided some relief and created a glimmer of hope for the common Russian. Gagarin’s heroism relaxed anxieties that Russia would continue to suffer from poverty and deprivation. The fact that Gagarin achieved something so legendary, despite his impoverished background, gave hope to Russians that they too could escape dreariness and hardship.
Jenks suggests that Gagarin was the model Soviet man, Homo Sovieticus, which he defines as “someone who combined selfless service to state and nation with the tireless pursuit of pleasure and leisure.” (175) The communist Soviet society had always been based on “we,” a community that works together and provides for each other, but in the 1960’s, a consumer society began to emerge and give birth to a more hedonistic generation. Gagarin embodied both of these conflicting ideas seamlessly, in the way he dedicated himself fully and foremost to the Soviet Union, while also being luxuriously materialistic and pleasure-seeking. Homo Sovieticus appreciates the finer things in life, while simultaneously remaining humble and paying respects to veterans from WWII. Perhaps most importantly, Homo Sovieticus must be skilled in tactfully handling secrecy, while still appearing sincere and genuine, in order to protect the Soviet Union’s secrets from being made public.
Gagarin died a premature death in 1968, due to a jet crash during a routine training flight, in which his flight instructor Vladimir Seryogin died as well. The circumstances are still unclear, but most can agree that the crash was at least partially due to the air traffic controllers giving inaccurate information about the height of the clouds, and the engine inexplicably giving out. The official Soviet press gave very little detail about the crash to the public in order to avoid admitting any flaws in Soviet aviation technology and revealing any weakness to their enemies. However, their caginess surrounding his death backfired and led to the creation of countless rumors and conspiracy theories. People speculated that Gagarin was abducted by aliens, that he crashed during a drunken flight to see a soccer match, or that he was addicted to drugs and died of an overdose, hence why he always smiled. Others that still believed in Gagarin’s heroism proposed that he had perished due to him insisting that his comrade eject first, which Seryogin refused to do, and before they knew it, they were both too late.
Some thought that the pressure of fame had finally got to him, and he faked his death and got plastic surgery so that he could integrate himself among the common-folk once again. While most of these conspiracies are silly rumors, other reflect the fears and cynicism plaguing Russian society at the time. In one theory, Brezhnev, the new leader of the Soviet party, locked Gagarin in a psychiatric hospital after throwing a drink in his face, an act that proved he “dared to challenge and humiliate the domineering bosses.” (249) Others speculated that one of Russia’s enemies set up the crash, and that they wanted “to eliminate those who objected to political decisions on technical grounds.” (250)
The sheer mysticism surrounding Gagarin made it possible for anyone and everyone to project their own agendas, hopes, or fears onto him, and it’s why we’re still puzzling over who Yuri actually was today.
