LESSONS FROM THE ‘WILD EAST’ 281because they permeate Russian literature. The idea that suffering is a
virtue is a recurring theme. Many of that tradition ’ s most respected
writers have painted shattering pictures of poverty and slavery, empha-
sizing distortions of the psyche caused by many centuries of serfdom
(a practice that ended in 1861 but left a deep imprint on superior –
subordinate relationships).
These stories from history and fi ction portray the Russians as people
prone to dramatic mood swings, expressing extreme anger one moment
and reverting to masochistic behavior the next. This swinging of the
emotional pendulum was well exemplifi ed by Tsar Ivan the Terrible,
who, after the murder of his son, was consumed by remorse and
repentance.
The Capacity to Endure
In spite of (or perhaps because of ) the harsh circumstances under which
they live or have lived — predominantly on vast, empty plains or on
the Siberian tundra — Russians are a people of enormous endurance and
stamina. I observed this incredible courage, endurance, and putative
love of suffering fi rsthand in 1993, when I was a member of an expe-
dition in the Pamir mountains in Tadjikistan, one of the former republics
of the old USSR on the Russian - Chinese border. The purpose of the
trip was to observe the rut of the mythical Marco Polo sheep, the
largest wild sheep in the world. Unfortunately, we were not lucky with
the weather. Not only did we have to deal with extreme temperatures
(more than − 30 ° C, without even factoring in the wind chill) and
dramatic heights (over 5 500 m), we also faced unusually deep and
challenging snow conditions. Our lack of equipment for dealing with
the deep snow, in combination with the oxygen - scarce air of extreme
altitude, made climbing exceptionally diffi cult. To my inexperienced
eye, it looked as if it would be impossible to get close to the sheep.
Other people would have given up — but not the Russians. They decided
to press on, and to do so when the sheep could not see us so as to
avoid scaring them away.
So I found myself, in the dark, at 2 a.m. one December morning,
trudging through the snow and trying to minimize the extreme exertion
by stepping in the footsteps of my guides — who, it should be noted,
carried all my gear (tent, sleeping bag, cooking utensils, food, and so
on) on their backs. I have been in many diffi cult situations, but this was
the most grueling. Later my Russian friends named this night walk ‘ the
battle of Pamirgrad, ’ in reference to the most terrible Russian battle of