Moscow holiday diptych

The first photo (12:33pm, Dec 27, 2005) causes one to envision a group of friends swilling Sovetskoe champagne from little plastic cups on the embankment of the Moscow River, their moods buoyed by the early hour, the festive flags on the bridge and the inspiring architecture of the Ukraina Hotel across the river.



The second photo (8:37pm, Dec 28, in the Belorusskaia metro station) reminds one how such festivities can end - with yet another, clearly uncalled for, bottle of Sovetskoe.

Gratuitous Metro pic

Since I've been rather text-heavy of late, I'm trying to even out the balance with a few photos. Much more fun than politics or answering personal questionnaires. This one is from December 30th, around 4pm, in the Biblioteka Imeni Lenina metro station. Note Vladimir Il'ich's bald dome, rendered lovingly in a mosaic, peeking out above the crowd at the top of the stairs in the background.

I love you

If only the message scrawled on the subway door in this photo was a bit more legible, it would make a great Valentine. The faded graffiti reads, "Ia tebia liubliu," or "I love you." Photo taken at 4pm on December 31, 2005, on the green line somewhere between the Belorusskaia and Aeroport stations.

...in which the blogger perpetuates a tired blogosphere game

I've been "tagged" by Kevin of Languor Management. Because I like Kevin's blog, and because this week is National Procrastinators' Week, as well as my spring break*, I guess I'll take the time, though I don't think many people will find this interesting.

*I started this post two weeks ago, and it's been languishing as a draft since then. Since then, I've learned I was also tagged at about the same time by Wally Shedd, the Accidental Russophile.

Four jobs I've had (though none of these was within the past 9 years):
Waiter
Standardized test essay grader (sometimes those 8th graders had really depressing things to say)
Housepainter
Recycler of newspapers (including driving a 20-foot, 5-ton truck full of them - favorite job ever. That was a summer job; I also worked for these folks during the school year.)

Four movies I can watch over and over:
Leaving Las Vegas
Burnt by the Sun
Ironiia Sud'by
Can't think of anything else - I've never been a very discerning big-screen viewer.

Four places I've lived:
Lagos, Nigeria
Leningrad, the USSR
Washington, DC (the District, none of this suburban nonsense)
Moscow, Russia (too obvious)
North Cambridge, Massachusetts

Four TV shows I like:
X-Files (not the last few seasons)
Namedni (R. I. P.)
Law & Order (preferably the original)
Simpsons

Four places I've vacationed:
Uzbekistan (made it to Bukhara and Samarkand, as well as the gateway city of Tashkent, although not to Khiva or the Aral Sea)
Shanghai, PRC
Moldova (I've been to just about every big city in the country - Chisinau, Balti, Soroca, Comrat, Ungheni, and others - even made it to Tiraspol twice)
Kenya (a week on safari and a week on the beach in Mombasa - something like 20 years ago)

Four of my favorite dishes:
Blini from Teremok
Starbucks Eggs Florentine sandwich (favorite food of the moment) / Starlite Diner Eggs Benedict
Hammered pork cutlets and yellow string beans with garlic
Anything my mom makes

Four sites I visit daily (there is actually no such site, but these are the ones I visit most frequently):
Neeka's Backlog
Slate.com
Lenta.ru
My counter logs

Four books I've read this year (or, to be precise, within the past year):
Acts of Faith (highly recommended)
Lying Together: My Russian Affair (don't draw any conclusions)
Getting to Maybe: How to Excel on Law School Exams (it didn't really work)
The Man Who Tried to Save the World : The Dangerous Life and Mysterious Disappearance of an American Hero (interesting if you're interested in Chechnya)

Four bloggers I'm tagging:
Nobody. I don't want to lay this burden on anyone else.

More on Litvinovich

I was following the story of the beating of opposition activist Marina Litvinovich earlier this week - here, here, and here - which has now been thoroughly covered in English by the Moscow Times (they try to make you pay for their stories after the first day, but David McDuff of A Step At a Time has the story here. Information wants to be free.).

Masha Gessen had an opinion piece in the Moscow Times yesterday, which is worth quoting in full:

Moscow Times
March 23, 2006
A Message Delivered
By Masha Gessen
Masha Gessen is a Moscow journalist.

If you follow the news, you know now that Garry Kasparov, the chess king who has devoted his life to deposing President Vladimir Putin, has an office on Ulitsa Makarenko in central Moscow. There is no sign on the door announcing his grandly named United Civil Front, nor is his office marked in any way. When you enter, you encounter a couple of his bodyguards (altogether he has eight or so). These guys follow the opposition activist everywhere and watch over everything that concerns him, including food preparation. And if you follow the news, you know this is not paranoia.

Monday night, Kasparov's right-hand person, the political consultant Marina Litvinovich, left the United Civil Front office just after 9. About an hour later, she opened her eyes to discover that she was lying on a cellar awning and someone was trying to ascertain if she was all right. She was not: She had apparently been knocked unconscious by a blow or several blows to the head. She had been badly beaten, was bruised all over, and was missing two of her front teeth. Nothing had been taken from her: not her notebook computer or cell phone or money.

She spent three or four hours in the emergency room that night, and she spent another three or four at the police station the following day. She found the police to be extraordinarily polite and considerate -- and, as the organizer of many of Kasparov's public speaking events and any number of protests, Litvinovich is something of an expert on police behavior. Some higher-up had apparently been sent down to the station to handle her case. At the same time, she told me, "I am not stupid and I could see what they were getting at: that I was just walking down the street and passed out. That I must be in poor health." Litvinovich is 31 years old and healthy. "And that I fell in such an unfortunate manner that I got bruised all over."

Russian police are generally fond of blaming the victim as a way of solving crimes. I have read case descriptions in which police claimed that victims of beatings stumbled and fell (in one memorable case, a person was said to have insulted a police officer, then stumbled, fallen and apologized to the officer). Even Private Andrei Sychyov, the apparent hazing victim, has been said to have injected himself with the substance that necessitated the amputation of both legs. But failing the she-hit-herself-on-the-head theory, the police were willing to offer Litvinovich another version of events: She may have been hit by a car.

Litvinovich has a bruise on her leg that, the doctors told her, was probably caused by a blow with a rubber baton. The police suggested it may have been a car bumper. Litvinovich pointed out that her clothes were so clean that she was wearing the same trousers and coat the following day. She clearly was not hit by a Moscow car. Moreover, this is one of several signs that she was attacked by professionals: She must have been held while she was beaten, then laid carefully on the awning on which she found herself.

In other words, the attack was a message. The pristine execution and the fact that Litvinovich's valuables were not touched serve to underscore this. So what's the content of this message? Another young political consultant, an up-and-coming member of the Kremlin's Public Chamber, Alexei Chadayev, put the message forward in his blog: "Women should not be in this line of work. ... Marina is on the warpath, and no one ever said this war would be conducted according to rules." This is this country's ruling regime speaking. Its message is crude: as simple as a rubber baton, as brutal as a blow to a young woman's face. If you are going to oppose the Kremlin, it is saying, this will happen to you.

Perhaps the powers-that-be are even more angry at Litvinovich because, years before her recent attempt to get possible Putin successor Sergei Ivanov booted from his job as Defense Minister, she seemed to be on their side. Without wanting to call her opposition cred into question, it seems relevant to mention that she got her start working for Kremlin spin-doctor Gleb Pavlovsky's Fond Effektivnoi Politiki, though, to be fair, I think back in '99 Pavlovsky wasn't considered to have gone over to the dark side - actually, back in '99, concern about the Putin administration becoming a "dark side" was rather muted overall.

And back in '99, Litvinovich was also apparently the victim of a beating, although that time her assailants stole a briefcase containing "important FEP documents." That last bit is according to an exhaustive piece on Lenta.ru which covers the recent beating and provides a thorough backgrounder on Litvinovich's career as the "work horse of civil society."

Compromat.ru (caveat - a questionable source, which sources much of its article to the even more questionable Stringer.ru) has an article which recites some of the same facts about Litvinovich's early career, but adds the tidbit that author Tatiana Tolstaya's son is the father of Litvinovich's child. But that's getting too far into tabloid territory, I guess, and we try to keep things serious here.

One of the projects that Litvinovich worked on back in the day was strana.ru, which is still going strong. Here's an interesting excerpt from an MA thesis (which seems to be from 2004) about "The Changing Face of RuNet":

The establishment of high profile government propaganda sites further fuelled concerns in an online media community already made jittery by deteriorating press freedom and the state control of television. “It is not a business project,” said strana.ru director Marina Litvinovich (LaFraniere, 2002). “It’s a political project. The idea is to support Russian authorities and the Russian president.”

A project of this nature was viewed by its rivals as potentially an overture to actual repression: “Today we do not really feel interference,” said Anton Nosik, editor in chief of news site lenta.ru. “That’s because they haven’t started yet. Ever since Mr. Putin has been in the picture, there has been an urge to control the mass media. They are just not ready to come for us yet.”

Is it too obvious to suggest that it looks like "they" may be getting ready?

Minsk Madness, part 2

It looks like the tent city in Minsk has been broken up violently. Here's the BBC's take, and a bit on the crackdown from MosNews.

Although the links I've stored up for a post over the past couple of days seem dated now, I'll run through a few of them anyway.

BelaPAN news agency had a thorough photo essay from the short-lived "Minsk Maidan" a couple of days ago. Blogging from Belarus, LJ user tormozoid also had some photos. His most recent post says the following, in simple, bold type (my translation):

All those who dispered the tent city, and especially those who gave the orders, will burn in hell.

Hard to argue with that.

American bloggers were covering the story (that second link is especially good reading), and there will no doubt be more comment on the night's events when the US wakes up. David McDuff at A Step At a Time has a post up already about the tent city's demise, exhorting us all to "blog till it hurts" in order to keep the story in the news. And Sean had a thought-provoking post digesting the Guardian's take on Lukashenka and the West's alleged hypocrisy in their approach to the Belarus elections.

Veronica has been doing double duty, covering events at Neeka's Backlog and also on Global Voices Online.

And finally, courtesy of the man behind U Fanni Kaplan, a link from megablog Boing Boing to a rather troubling pro-Lukashenka pop song (including a video).

Visions of the Other

A Russian friend of mine recently emailed me this joke:

Как США представляли СССР в 70-е годы.
- Садись есть!
- Выпьем водки!
- Мама, можно я пойду, поиграю на балалайке, почитаю Ленина и подою медведя?
- Можно, и не забудь сдать нас в КГБ
- Папа, а где дедушка?
- Стоит в очереди за талонами на талоны.
- Дорогая, становится жарковато! Пойди, выключи ядерный реактор.
- Заткнись, Наташа! Выпьем водки!
- Папа, я написал сочинение « за Ленина я готов гнить на рудниках».
- Отлично Сергей, выпейте водки всем классом!

My translation:

How the US imagined the USSR in the 1970's.
"Sit down and have something to eat!"
"Let's drink some vodka!"
"Mama, can I go play the balalaika, read Lenin, and milk the bear?"
"Of course you can, and don't forget to turn us in to the KGB."
"Papa, where's grandpa?"
"He's waiting in line to get ration tickets for ration tickets."
"Honey, it's getting hot in here! Go turn off the nuclear reactor."
"Shut up, Natasha! Let's drink some vodka!"
"Papa, I wrote a composition called "For Lenin I Would Rot in the Mines."
"Excellent, Sergei, your whole class should drink some vodka!"

Maybe this is insider/niche humor and thus not funny to many, but as a social document it speaks volumes. This is the Russians' self-deprecating take on how we saw them during the cold war, and for me, a big part of the joke is that it is pretty close to true - both in terms of how things really were and in terms of how they were seen by an earlier generation of Russia-watchers (uh, "Sovietologists," I think they were called back in the day).

But it raises a couple of thoughts in my mind.

First of all, how many Americans still think of Russia in this kind of cartoonish way? Probably not a trivial number. And, frighteningly, we seem to still have some influential policymakers here in the US who haven't advanced their opinion of Russia much past this 1970's-vintage caricature.

Secondly, what would the reverse of such a joke (Russian impressions of the US in the 1970's) look like? My guess is that it would be even funnier, and even more misguided, because the average Soviet citizen had fairly limited and distorted sources of information about life in the USA. However, it's impossible to imagine Americans coming up with such a joke and telling it to each other, because caring about what people from other countries think of us is an exotic and unpopular pastime in the United States -- unlike in Russia, where it sometimes seems like a national pastime.

Free-market Metro (Flea-market Metro?)

Maxim Gorky's stern visage watches over a group of middle-aged Muscovites as they shop for winter fashions in the entry vestibule of the Park Kul'tury metro station. December 29, 2005.

Two Tales of a City

Looks like there was a full moon last weekend in Moscow. Below are two stories reported by email by friends who live in Moscow, both of which took place last Sunday.

Here at Scraps of Moscow, we may no longer be based in Mo-town (until this summer, at least), but we still try to bring the flavor of the city home to the English-speaking reader. If anyone had questions about which gender has the stronger moral compass in Russia, these stories should help with that determination.

Tale One - Babushka Triumphant - By Friend A

I was unsuccessfully attacked in the Tverskaya Metro Station this evening. While peacefully waiting for my train, a clearly drunk (and likely crazy) gentleman approached me as I was busily thumbing away on my blackberry.....he slurred something that was not only incomprehensible to me, but would have been incomprehensible to native Russian speakers.

In my best Russian, I responded, without looking up from my blackberry, Ya nye ponyal. He then decided the best way to make me ponimat was to grab/pull one of my arms....when he saw that this did not dislodge the blackberry from my other hand, he decided that slapping my other arm was the next logical step. At this point, I am stunned and shocked and standing there with my arms entangled with this maniac.......

Suddenly....to my immediate left (he approached me from my right) a blood curdling scream issued forth and we both turned to see a babushka entering into the wind up of what would have been the most terrifying southpaw roundhouse this side of Trenton....simultaneously, my shock switched to anger and this strange gentleman decided it was time to cut and run (with the Babushka yelling epithets at him as he ran, seemingly upset that she did not have a chance to unleash her mighty punch).

I was immediately very grateful to my savior who brushed it off like a superhero saying it is all in the day's work for a babushka. She apologized to me that the metro is so full of drunkards. I was tempted to slip her 500 rubles but worried that this might wound her pride. We can all make fun of the way they yell at you to put your hat on or elbow you getting into a crowded metro, but the babushka is the one segment of Russian society that has any sense of a human role (as opposed to nature) of telling right from wrong and acting accordingly. If everybody behaved like them, Russia would be a better place.

Anyway, I am home safe no worse for the wear (the whole thing lasted a matter of seconds) -- just thought some of you might appreciate the vignette. One little piece of irony....the police presence in the metro this weekend was simply overwhelming.....incredibly oppressive. I have notice that since new year, the metro is FULL of militsia. Of course, it is the babushka who are keeping this place safe (while their pensions are being cut to fund more money into the military industrial complex).

******

Tale Two - Dedushka Triumphant - By Friend B

I also encountered a bit of strangeness. I dropped 100 rubles on the ground as I was stuffing the change into my pocket after buying a bunch of spinach and other veggies at the outdoor market at my metro station.

I had taken a few steps when a woman, one of the sellers, pointed to the ground and said I had dropped the money. When I turned around a man, a well-dressed pensioner who had been standing behind me, already had pocketed it. I went up to him, and asked if he had found the note.

He didn't look at me, but responded softly, 'Nyeeet.' He took it. He knew I knew he took it. And so did his wife. I smiled and began to walk away. When I turned around again he was frantically shifting it from his coat pocket into his pants pocket.

Welcome to Moscow

A non-ethnic Russian is welcomed to the capital by a friendly local police officer asking to see his documents. Near the Kievsky train station, December 27, 2005.