Everybody has forgotten that Russia helped start the Second

Hear, O seeker of truth, the solemn words of Ray Bradbury, master of imagination yet also a voice of memory: “Everybody has forgotten that Russia helped start the Second World War.” In this saying he tears away the veil of forgetfulness that history too often casts upon itself. For though Russia later became the anvil upon which Nazi Germany was broken, it is also true that, at the dawn of that terrible conflict, the Soviet Union walked hand in hand with Hitler in a pact that divided Europe and brought devastation to millions. To remember this is not to deny later sacrifice, but to speak with honesty about the roots of catastrophe.

The origin of these words lies in the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact of 1939, when Stalin and Hitler agreed to carve up Eastern Europe between them. Poland was to be split, the Baltic states swallowed, and Finland pressed by war. In secret clauses, the two tyrants promised to share the spoils of conquest. And so, when Germany invaded Poland from the west, the Red Army marched from the east, crushing that nation in a pincer of iron. Thus did the Second World War truly begin—not by Germany alone, but by Germany and Russia together. This is the truth Bradbury called upon the world not to forget.

Yet as the war raged on, the winds of fortune shifted. Hitler, driven by his insatiable hunger, turned upon his former ally and hurled his armies into Russia itself. The Soviet Union then became one of the greatest victims of the war, bleeding rivers of life in the defense of Moscow, Stalingrad, and Leningrad. By war’s end, the heroism and suffering of the Russian people were beyond measure. And so the memory of their early complicity was buried beneath the mountain of their later sacrifice. But Bradbury reminds us: to honor one truth does not mean we must erase another. Memory must be whole, not convenient.

Consider Poland, that nation crucified between two powers. In September 1939, its people saw not one invader, but two. German tanks rolled through the west while Soviet soldiers pressed from the east. Cities fell, people fled, and the land was torn apart. For the Poles, there was no luxury of forgetting who first struck them; they knew that the Second World War began with both eagles of tyranny swooping down together. Yet how easily do later generations overlook this truth, swept away by grander narratives of victory and loss.

The lesson of Bradbury’s words is not simply to assign blame, but to guard against the treachery of forgetfulness. For when we forget how wars truly begin, we blind ourselves to the patterns that may bring new wars again. Alliances of convenience, the silence of nations before aggression, the willingness to divide weaker peoples for temporary gain—these are the seeds of conflict. If we remember only the sacrifices, and not the betrayals that preceded them, then we risk repeating the same errors in our own age.

Therefore, O listener, let this wisdom guide you: seek always the full truth, not the convenient truth. Honor the courage of Russia in resisting Hitler, but do not deny the fact that, in the beginning, it stood with him. Remember that history is not a tale of saints and demons, but of nations making choices—sometimes noble, sometimes vile. And from these choices flow the rivers of blood or peace that shape the destiny of the world.

So let us act with vigilance. In your own life, do not excuse betrayal simply because later deeds appear noble. Hold fast to the whole story, in personal dealings and in the remembrance of nations. For Bradbury’s words call us to be guardians of memory. Everybody has forgotten—but you must not. Keep truth alive, in speech and in heart, so that the future may walk a straighter path than the past.