The Way We (Never) Were
Russian TV depicts a heroic version of the war in Chechnya
Back in the lean Soviet years, the less food there was available in stores, the more success of Soviet agriculture the media reported. "Want to fill up your fridge? Plug it into your TV set," was a popular joke of the time. Decades of brainwashing and beatings taught us to accept a virtual reality as the natural substitute for real life. What you saw around you didn't really matter. What mattered was what you saw on TV.
Now, we have a war in Chechnya , known in the virtual reality slang as "a counter-terrorist operation." A couple of days ago, the Federal Security Service (the FSB, heir to the KGB), proudly reported that they "intercepted a video-tape with instructions from Khattab" on stepping up terrorist activities. Khattab, an Arab warlord in Chechnya , has been a real thorn in the side of the Russian forces since the war in Chechnya broke out back in 1994. But even the FSB seems to realize that intercepting just the Khattab tape is not quite the same as catching Khattab himself, who has been eluding the Russian forces for eight years in the area about half the Moscow region size.
Last night, I watched a new Russian TV serial. The title is Spetsnaz — the Russian for Special Forces; in this case, a special forces group of Russian military intelligence. In the movie, a handful of Spetsnaz officers — smart, well-trained, equipped with James Bondian gadgets that they are capable of building themselves from any rubble — mounts an operation against one Faudi. Faudi is an Arab, "a British subject of the third generation," a retired SAS Lieutenant, Russian speaker, great warrior, and almost a superman — but still no match for Spetsnaz.
At the beginning of the movie, Faudi shows up somewhere in Afghanistan , offering his services to a long-bearded, rich Arab who finances Muslim terrorists elsewhere, including Chechnya . Then, a terrorist force, trained by Faudi, keeps inflicting heavy losses on the Russians — until the Spetsnaz group comes in, that is. In 55 prime-time minutes (with frequent breaks for commercials lavishly thrown in), the virtual reality Spetsnaz officers accomplish what their real life counterparts have been failing to do for eight years: Faudi's force is wiped out, Faudi himself is taken alive, and the Spetsnaz commanding officer addresses him in pure American English.
Professional Russian patriots these days frown on foul Russian being used on TV but, apparently, foul English is acceptable: "F___ you," groans the captured enemy. F___ yourself," returns the Russian chevalier. End of episode. The next installment will be coming on the air tomorrow. I can't wait.
The Chechen rebels are said to watch Russian TV quite intently. Khattab might have derived a good laugh from this one. Meanwhile, in real life, at least two special police forces units in Siberia refused to go to Chechnya to kill and be killed, while their families are starving back home, what with an officer's monthly salary of $48. The Moscow-based Obshchaya Gazeta weekly reports that some 30 such units all over Russia are on the verge of joining this protest.
While some Russian media are lauding the patriotic serial, I feel disgusted enough to recall another old Soviet joke. A nursery school teacher is telling her charges: "In the Soviet Union , all the families have nice apartments. In the Soviet Union , all the adults have well-paid jobs, and all the children have sweets and toys." Suddenly, a kid bursts into tears. "What's the matter?" asks the teacher. "I wish I lived in the Soviet Union !!!" the kid blurts out.
Watch Russian TV! You will see care-free people, concerned with only how to invest their profits best, or find the best place to enjoy a vacation. You will see officials who never take bribes, and exist on modest salaries, so eager they are to serve the public cause. And you will see the mighty armed forces, gallantly squashing any miscreant who dares raise his vicious hand to frustrate this happy life. I wished I lived in Russia.
BY YURI ZARAKHOVICH/Moscow
Friday, Mar. 29, 2002
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