#6
Moscow Times
November 6, 2001
Practical Jokes Not Funny
By Boris Kagarlitsky
Last week a meeting of the World Economic Forum took place in Moscow. Representatives of international banking circles descended on the Russian capital to discuss the indisputable achievements of the past three years. In fact, since the 1998 financial crisis, we have started to see economic growth, the standard of living rising somewhat, and the middle class -- comprising a little more than one-tenth of the population -- once again starting to spend money.
Unfortunately, the party was spoiled by rumors -- the provenance of which is unclear -- that anti-globalists were preparing to riot on the central streets of Moscow. The newspapers published sensational reports about several thousand demonstrators preparing to disrupt the bankers' meeting. Journalists, citing law enforcement sources, said that anti-globalists had already bought up all cheap tickets to Moscow from Western Europe and the United States. Television stations ran reports on this for several days in a row, brushing aside the explanations of Russian and Western activists. The latter tried unsuccessfully to prove that there were no events planned on those particular dates and sent out numerous press releases, but all to no avail.
Soldiers, policemen and even special armored vehicles, capable of breaking through barricades, were stationed on Tverskaya Ulitsa. Some local residents were not even allowed access to their own homes. Shops in proximity to the area of the expected demonstration suffered huge losses. And not one anti-globalist even showed his or her face on Tverskaya.
If it was an April Fool's joke, then what was the point of doing it in the fall? Alas, neither the authorities nor journalists apologized for the practical joke they organized in the city center.
Furthermore, it seems they are acquiring a taste for such things. No sooner had the police dismantled their barriers on Tverskaya than the press, again citing official sources, announced that Chechen rebel representative Akhmed Zakayev had come to an agreement with General Viktor Kazantsev on capitulation and that Chechen leader Aslan Maskhadov was leaving Chechnya for Malaysia. It didn't seem to matter that Maskhadov's representatives immediately issued a rebuttal; television and government officials continued to repeat their version, in spite of its patent absurdity.
The source of these political hallucinations is by and large fairly obvious. People, including those in power, are not free from fear and delusions. The enigmatic anti-globalists, about whom all sorts of rubbish is written, will sooner or later appear in Russia, and moreover not the imported variety but our own home-grown anti-globalists.
The fact that neither the country's leadership nor a large swathe of the press understand this phenomenon does not seem to arouse any interest among them in finding out more about it. Instead, the most fanciful fantasies and conjectures build up over a period of time. And the result is armored vehicles on Tverskaya to defend us from the fruits of our own over-fertile imaginations. Ghostbusters would probably have been more appropriate.
Concerning the Chechen rebels, there is no option but to open a dialogue with them, although it is not possible to admit to this. Thus the necessity to invent all sorts of nonsense, such as Maskhadov booking a ticket to Malaysia.
Of course, the Russian leadership's delusions are far from being unique. George W. Bush, for the second week already, thinks that there exists a "moderate Taliban." The cream of the intelligence forces and diplomatic corps have been charged with seeking them out.
Incompetence is a characteristic of contemporary politicians. And the desire to make things up is by no means a feature unique to those in power. Much more dangerous is the willingness of the media to reproduce these hallucinations without a hint of irony.
In the United States and Britain, where the press is accustomed to taking politicians seriously, talk of a "moderate Taliban" initially had people nonplussed and then was followed by a wave of ironic commentaries. In Russia, on the other hand, where you would think ironic detachment is part of the culture, the press and television regurgitated the official version, trying hard to make it look as though they were not aware of the absurdity.
The delusions and hallucinations of the country's leadership are not just gibberish, they are also treated as directives to be acted upon.
Boris Kagarlitsky is a Moscow-based sociologist.
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