Author Archive for lethalemon
It’s common knowledge that Russia is rife with corruption and
cronyism. Rare is the Western tourist who returns from St Petersburg
without a dinner-party tale about ‘The Terrible Traffic Policeman’ or
some other familiar Russian character. Surveys such as Transparency
International’s Corruptions Perceptions Index support this image -
Russia ranks 127 out of 142 countries, just one place above Rwanda.
But after three months of living and working in Moscow, no-one had
asked me to pay a bribe. I hadn’t even seen anyone pay a bribe. I
started to worry that I was living an excessively sheltered life and
missing out on the ‘real Russian experience.’ Actually, it turned out
that my experience is quite normal.
When asked the question (for TI’s Global Corruption Barometer) “In the
past 12 months, have you or anyone in your household paid a bribe in
any form?” only 8% of Russians answered “Yes.” Compare that to 17% in
Greece and the Czech Republic, or 20% in Romania. When asked to rate
the extent to which “corruption affects family and personal life,”
Russia scored just 1.9 out of 5. Compare that to an average 2.6 for
North America and 2.8 for South East Europe and things in Russia look
quite rosy.
What can explain the huge disparity between the results of the
Corruptions Perceptions Index and the Global Corruption Barometer?
Simple: the CPI is a survey of experts such as businessmen and policy
analysts, whereas the Barometer is a survey of general public opinion.
The experts in the CPI survey see the rampant corruption in the sphere
of political parties, arms deals, oligarchs and oil – but the vast
majority of Russians do not live in that world. The level of petty
corruption - everyday, street-level bribery - is actually slightly
lower in Russia than the global average and significantly lower than
in South East European countries such as Greece or Romania.
How can corruption be so rife in the elite spheres, but relatively
modest at the grassroots?
The economist Pranab Bardhan offers one interesting explanation: in
countries with a strong central state, corruption is centralised to
the single source of power. You only have to pay once – he calls it
‘one–stop-shopping.’ In a decentralised system, you have to pay bribes
all over the place to get the same job done. Perhaps Putin’s policy of
strong central government has succeeded in centralising corruption?
An alternative explanation could be the lack of media reporting of
cases of corruption in the Russian media. Research in Ukraine showed
that the more cases of corruption are reported in the mass media, the
more the public thinks that institutions are bribeable, so they offer
more bribes and thus perpetuate the corruption.
So why are Westerners so convinced of Russia’s rampant corruption problem?
Probably because they pay a lot more bribes than Russians. The “I
think you will take a bribe so I will offer you one” mentality may
have something to do with it. The more scare-stories they read about
Russian corruption, the more Westerners come here expecting to bribe
everyone from the passport official to the ice-cream vendor. As soon
as they encounter a touch of halting Russian bureaucracy, their first
response is to wave a 100 ruble note. What’s more, they don’t speak
the language so they can’t argue their way out of the situation; and
anyhow 100 rubles [about 4 USD] is nothing to most Westerners here.
(Incidentally, the latter also applies to rich Russians who are quite
happy to pay a petty sum to oil the wheels…) So Westerners pay more
bribes, and everybody knows it. Result? Westerners (and rich Russians)
get asked for more bribes than anybody else, and the vicious circle
continues.
Corruption is ultimately all about perceptions, and perceptions are
based on personal experience. But perhaps Westerners should be a
little less hasty in assuming that their experiences in Russia are
typical – the evidence suggests otherwise.
Judging from the evidence on YouTube, French President Nicolas Sarkozy got a lesson in vodka-drinking from Russia’s President Putin at the G8 meeting last week. But has Putin also been teaching new-boy Sarko a thing or two about ‘press management’?
The French press has barely reported the infamous press conference; even the more left-wing media (Liberation, for example) have been almost silent on the issue. The clip has still not even been broadcast in France - it was first aired by Belgian broadcaster RTBF. The RTBF reporter was subsequently made to apologise. Charles Bremner in The Times and Tim King in Prospect have reviews of the limited coverage.
Yet thanks to good old YouTube, over 3 million people have watched the clip anyway. ”Was he drunk?” has become Question of the Moment in France (well, they needed something to talk about after ”Should Zidane have been sent off?” got boring).
Is this self-censorship? Or something more sinister? Either way, Sarko seems to have the French press firmly in his pocket - perhaps he picked up some tricks from the master over a couple of (bottles of) vodka?
Last week 24 EU countries announced an easing of the visa regime for Russian citizens travelling to the EU. Whilst this is a step in the right direction, the reforms should go much further. The EU should abandon the principle of reciprocity (the protocol by which visa regimes are only eased in parallel by both sides) and unilaterally disarm its visa regime with Russia. It is simply perverse for the EU to implore Russia to be ‘more like us,’ whilst making it impossible for ordinary Russians to experience life in a European democracy.
As of 1 June, Russians travelling to 24 EU countries (not the UK, Ireland and Denmark) will face slightly softer visa regulations. Although the announcement has been talked up by both sides, the changes actually only apply to a few categories of travellers ( members of official delegations, close relatives, students, disabled people, participants of exchange programs, some researchers and children under 6). The changes were agreed at the EU-Russia Summit in Sochi in May 2006.
For a normal Russian citizen, getting an EU tourist visa is still almost impossible. I won’t bore you with the details, but having just tried (and failed) to get an EU visa invite for a friend, I know what a nightmare it is. So a generation of Russians is excluded from the EU, taking their holidays instead in Turkey or Morocco where the visa regimes are friendlier.
Many young Russians have never been to Western Europe or any other liberal democracy. (Though Eastern Europe was a popular holiday destination in Soviet times). Don’t be fooled by the Prada-sporting Russians who have taken over Courchevel – they are a tiny minority. The average well-educated, young professional Muscovite cannot get an EU visa. It is any surprise, then, that many are wholly disinterested in democracy? They see the current Russian ‘opposition’ as a collection of loons, troublemakers and power-seekers.
Western governments are desperate to democratize Russia. But neither headmasterly tickings-off (George W. Bush), or pouring millions into elitist NGOs (George Soros) seems to be working. Perhaps that is because the vast majority of Russians don’t believe the product we’re selling. Having lived through communism, perestroika and the Putin era, Russians are understandably cautious shoppers when it comes to political systems. If a true democratic movement emerges in Russia, it will most likely be from the new middle class. Yet our visa regime denies these very people a taste of what they could fight for. A unilateral easing of the EU’s visa regime with Russia would do a lot for grassroots democracy in Russia.
I was on the bus the other day on the way home from uni. Driving through a residential area, one of the babushkas called out to ask the driver if he could take a different route to drop her at her door (apparently her leg hurt). A couple of other passengers chipped in that they wanted to go that way too.
The grumpy bus driver turned round: “How many of you want to turn left here?” There was a vague show of hands and a few requests (Naturally, he was still driving whilst carrying on a conversation with the back of the bus). It looked like a majority in favour, so we went left instead of following the official bus route.
On Tuesday, George W Bush made a speech in Prague accusing Putin of slowing democratic reforms. Of course Russia isn’t a model of democracy – it doesn’t want to be either. But I challenge you to find bus-stop democracy in the US or EU…
Summer has definitely arrived in Moscow, and it seems to have scared all the bras indoors. I can’t walk 200 metres to the metro without encountering bosoms bouncing without a care under some flimsy top. Let’s be clear – I am not a bra fascist, but Moscow seems to have become the headquarters of the Breast Liberation Army. Perhaps in the extreme heat (35 degrees and rising), Muscovite Woman is hallucinating that she is actually on the beach in Turkey. Or perhaps having kept her bootie under wraps all winter, she thinks the time has come to strut her stuff in the yard. Oddly enough, this phenomenon isn’t confined to the stick-thin-wannabe-posh-spice-types. (They already got rid of most of their clothing when the last snow melted). Last week I saw a particularly shocking case on a 50+ metro escalator attendant.
I’m not writing about this because I need to share some perverse nipple-related neurosis. The ‘hang-free-phenomenon’ is yet another enigma about being a woman in Russia which puzzles me. Russian women certainly make an effort to look sexually attractive, often dressing in ways which would be considered quite provocative in Western Europe. (Though is bra-less always better? Comments please!) Yet sex is a taboo subject in Russia, even when it’s just the girls. They will happily talk for hours about their romantic daydreams, boxes of chocolates, red roses, giant teddy bears etc – but never lust. They don’t see a contradiction between thinking like a 12 year old with a photo of Justin Timberlake, and dressing like a man-eater.
More surprising still is the reaction of the men. In my area of Brussels, the sight of a girl’s knee alone could provoke whistling and name-calling. But in Moscow no-one bats an eyelid. Is this the Garden of Eden of sexual equality, where women can dress how they want without fear of harassment? Or is the pressure to be attractive to men so great that women feel forced to hang up their bras for the summer? Whichever way, this is one aspect of Russian life I think I’ll skip for the time being…
Lilia
Last night was a beautiful evening, too beautiful to go to sleep without a walk around the block. I sat by a fountain in the city centre, watching the crowds of young people drinking, playing guitars, smoking. (Most young Russians can’t afford to go to a bar, so they sit out on the public squares.) The girl sitting next to me introduced herself and offered me a cigarette. She had short hair, a nirvana t-shirt and black basketball boots.
Lilia is 19 (nearly 20, she told me proudly). She was born in a town 5 hours away, but came to work in Moscow a year ago. She works in the McDonalds behind us. “This was the first McDonalds in all Russia!” she tells me proudly. (Someone else told me that the first McDonalds in Russia was the one at Ohotniy Ryad, not Pushkinskaya, but I didn’t contradict her). I asked her whether she liked her job. “The money is good, 3 dollars an hour.” Moscow is one of the most expensive cities in the world. Yet 3 dollars an hour is considered a good wage.
When I told her I was British, Lilia was delighted. “Thank God you’re not American. You know, the Americans didn’t help us in the war at all. They left us to fight the Nazis on our own. Did you know that? Only you helped, the British.” We got talking about the Victory Day parades last week. The pain of the Second World War is still very real here, even among young people.
Lilia tells me that she’s a lesbian. Pushkinskaya, where we are sitting, is a popular lesbian hangout at weekends apparently. “The 21st century is the century of freedom!” she announces. “Men. Women. Whatever.” Just then, an ex-girlfriend calls and they starts having a row on her mobile. I wander home, calculating that a bottle of beer from the kiosk (40 rubles) costs her half an hour’s work.
Blondie
I saw Blondie’s husband before I saw her. We were in a classic Moscow expat hangout, watching the FA Cup Final on Saturday afternoon. The room was packed with sweaty diplomats who had slipped away from their wives for a few hours of male bonding, sexy waitresses and cold beers. Next to me stood a short, 50-something man in the early stages of hair loss. He was sporting a pair or Armani jeans pulled up over his gut. Tucked into his expensive leather belt was a puke-coloured Ralph Lauren polo shirt. In another life he would have been a dentist. It occurred to me as I watched the footie that Wayne Rooney’s mother probably had more sex appeal than this man.
During half time, a pretty blonde girl wobbled over on a pair of impossibly high stillettos. She wrapped herself round the man, gazing lovingly at his multiple chins while he gazed lovingly at Chelsea. I was shocked. I’d heard about expats and rich Russians having ‘trophy wives,’ but I’d never seen one in person. This girl looked late-twenties. She was beautifully dressed with real Prada bag, Gucci shoes and a perfect manicure. The rock on her finger would have taken a serious chunk out of Titanic. When she turned to the side, I could see that she’d had her lips done too.
Could she really love this man? If she didn’t, she certainly gave a credible performance. She stroked his back, whispered sweet nothings into his ear, even pretended to care whether Chelsea won. The cynic in me saw Blondie as little more than a very-high-class prostitute with a wedding ring. On the other hand, it’s difficult to make a living in Moscow. Blondie was definitely making more than 3 bucks an hour.
Teenagers from pro-Putin youth movements have been protesting outside the Estonian Embassy in Moscow since 1 May, forcing its closure. What I saw there was a well-rehearsed theatrical piece, performed mostly for the benefit of the cameras. Leaving the rally, I wondered at how easily this an anti-fascist protest had become a nationalistic demonstration.
I had expected a large crowd of Russians, angered by the Estonian government’s decision to remove the statue of the soviet Bronze Soldier in Tallinn. As we approached the Embassy, the sidestreets were deserted. Next to the exit gates, someone had sprayed a picture of the Estonian Ambassador dressed as an SS guard (right). In fact, there were only around 100 people in front of the Embassy, the vast majority teenagers. We seemed to be the only ‘passers-by’ who felt moved to go and take a look.
The boys were in matching combat gear. They told me that they were given the kit - but didn’t want to be photographed with it on. The girls were mostly sporting apple-green bandanas and t-shirts with the Russian slogan “Locals.” They explained that their youth movement was essentially about ecology, campaigning for ‘cleanliness in all things, including politics.’ Many of them also carried the flags and banners of the “Young Guard,” the youth wing of President Putin’s United Russia party. The atmosphere was what you would expect from a group of teenagers camped out on a city-centre street: happy excitement, lots of hormones and plentiful fags and beer.
At 10.30, a handful of journalists and camera-men arrived. The group sprung into action. Instructions were passed around by the older protesters who communicated with wireless earpieces and walkie-talkies. Flags were raised and patriotic songs boomed out of the high-tech sound equipment. Then the show began. A guy on stilts in a white sheet (the ghost of fascism, the narrator informed us) did battle with some rather impressive flame-throwers (that was World War 2 apparently). The ghost performed a dramatic death, but was then resurrected (in Estonia). He was finally killed by shouts of “Rossiya!” from the crowd.
I was impressed by the level of organisation and discipline of the whole event. At one point, an over-enthusiastic 13-year old started a slow hand clap. He was immediately silenced by a hand gesture from one of the older boys. There were neat rows of matching tents and even a string of portaloos. The flags and banners were professionally made - no teenage scrawl on their mother’s best tablecloth. My favourite - there was even an inflatable Russian tank.
The kids were friendly and happy to chat. It was only when I left and reflected on the event that I realised that the ‘Strong Russia’ slogans, military-style clothing and anti-NATO chants weren’t too pretty. I was confused by my own ambivalence - if I saw one of those kids coming down a dark alley, I’d turn and run a mile. But in person they were friendly, normal teenagers with a serious crush on Russia.
The press at the moment is predictably full of obituaries of Boris Yeltsin, whose funeral took place in Moscow last week. The BBC obituary is fine for a brief and factual, if not particularly insightful account. The Economist’s Edward Lucas goes deeper, offering some interesting insights into the dynamics of Yeltsin’s inner circle. For a classic Western-liberal-intelligentsia take, read Masha Lipman in the Washington Post. For Ms Lipman, Yeltsin is “largely unappreciated” by the Russian public. She even excuses his destructive alcoholism as “probably the only relief he had from the terrible strain.” One of the most critical pieces is in Time Magazine, which also has some interesting blogs on the subject. There is a nice video-collage of Yeltsin’s defining moments on FoxNews - including the infamous drunken-orchestra-conducting-incident. RIA-Novosti, the Russian state information and news agency, offers a short factual biography of Yeltsin. According to RIA-Novosti political commentator Vladimir Simonov, the West is grateful to Yeltsin for ”creating a Russia that no longer scares us.” The Al-Jazeera obituary includes a box of classic Yeltsin quotes to impress your friends in the pub. For a more comprehensive review of the coverage of Yeltsin’s death, see the NearAbroad blog.
Every year on Hitler’s birthday, gangs of skinheads terrorise Moscow’s streets. They roam the city searching for dark-skinned pedestrians to beat to a pulp. This year, they may have had to look harder than usual. The government has deported hundreds of thousands of ‘illegal’ migrant workers from the Caucasus, usually an easy target for skinhead violence. Moscovites have also learnt to take precautions. Moscow State University took the unprecedented step of a total lock-down for foreign students, who were banned from leaving the campus in the south of the city last night. Synagogue attendance was also unusually low.
The occasion is particularly bitter for Moscow’s Jewish community, who the same week mark Holocaust Memorial Day (16th April). Russia has no official Memorial Day for the millions of Russian Jews who have been killed by various regimes throughout its history. Indeed, Russia has no memorial day for any of its millions of citizens who perished in labour camps. In the battle for remembrance, Hitler’s hooligans certainly have the upper hand for now.
Lately I have been spending a great deal of time trying to get my laptop through Russian customs. My trusty friend was picked up by DHL Express courier from my office in Brussels (for a princely fee), with assurances that it would be delivered in Moscow three working days later. I was most impressed when the online parcel tracking system informed me that it had arrived at the DHL facility in Moscow just 12 hours after pick-up. Unfortunately, it all went downhil from there. I had entered the sordid world of Russian customs. Two weeks later and still laptop-less, I was fuming. Having finally got it back, I have decided to share my Users’ Guide to Russian customs:
1. Provide 5 photocopied invoice letters from your office (The Shipper), explaining your desire to export the item.
2. Provide a letter from The Receiver (in this case my flatmate) explaining why she was receiving the package.
3. Send copies of The Receiver’s scanned, signed Russian passport.
4. Fill and send a 5-page form of irrelevant information about The Receiver.
5. Pay a ‘brokerage fee’ of 100 USD.
6. Pay a ‘customs fee’ of 240 USD.
7. Phone DHL at least 20 times to get information. Spend at least 25USD on phone bills to DHL. (Be warned: their ‘on hold’ tune is one of the worst I have heard).
8. Pay a further ‘administration fee’ of 3000 rubles (roughly 100dollars) to DHL. (By this point you have probably paid DHL and the customs clerk more than the cost of the item anyway).
9. When the parcel finally arrives and the courier attempts to raise the ‘administration fee’ to 8000rubles, refuse.
