monday monday
today we had one interview and
worked to set up another. sam had a play date at sasha's house.
Cool, windy, and rainy in Moscow
this morning. During the night the wind was strong enough to rattle the plastic
sheeting Ninyel keeps on her bedroom balcony (it's a small balcony garden, and
the sheeting is meant to protect the plants). Just enough to keep us from
falling into a deep sleep. We also couldn't tell whether the sound was rain or
plastic. At 4:30 Ingrid woke and I put her between us. Just as she seemed about
to drop off, Sam woke and climbed into bed with us too (waking
Ingrid).
Still,
eventually we all fell asleep and didn't wake until 7:00
a.m..
The morning
passed uneventfully. We had lunch, put the kids down for naps, then went
downstairs to find a cab to take us to our interview at CAST, a Russian
think-tank specializing in assessing the effectiveness and impact of Russian
military technology on regional and international
security.
It was
raining lightly, and when we got to the taxi stand, we saw "our" driver of the
last few days, Sergei. He wanted (as usual) a fortune to take us to our
interview, wait, then take us back; and Monica was able to negotiate him down
100 rubles before we got
in.
Once again Monica
continued her interview, asking about corruption of the traffic police (they are
all corrupt: Sergei entertained us by giving the bribe prices for various
traffic offenses, ranging from speeding to drunk driving), and more questions
about his military service, son, and the war in Chechnya. First question: "do
you think all Chechens are terrorists and criminals or just some?" Answer:
"They're all terrorists; the women, the kids too." Monica asked whether Sergei
had a son. "Yes, he's in the university now." Monica: "Has he served in the
military?" Answer: "no." Question: "does he want to?" Answer: "No, he doesn't
want; but
I
want him to." Monica: "You were in the Navy, on what ship did you serve?"
Answer: "I was an officer on a nuclear
submarine."
I asked
Sergei about
dedovschina,
the hazing practice which once served to enhance unit cohesion and esprit
(similar to initiation rituals in most armed forces), but now has degenerated to
the point where it kills and mains hundreds of Russian military recruits every
year. Sergei replied that in the Navy they call it
godokchina
not
dedovschina;
and that it is different now than it was when he served. He didn't seem to make
the next logical connection, which was to worry about his own son being injured
or abused in the event he follows his father's
wishes.
As we arrived
at our interview he recommended a book to read by a bestselling Russian author.
According to Sergei, this author captures 85% of Sergei's experience of military
life. Earlier, Monica had asked whether Sergei had seen
Hunt for Red
October?, and Sergei laughed:
he had, and it was nothing like reality. For one thing, the idea that a
political officer could have so much authority on a submarine was ludicrous to
Sergei. As he put it: "a ship can have only one
captain."
As usual,
finding the actual place of the interview proved challenging. Russian addresses
usually get you to the building or block, but then you've got to guess in which
of five or six entrances on the front or side of the building is the right one.
Monica called, and after some more exploration (and a surprisingly cheerful and
helpful security guard) we found the right
office.
He and his
college friends started their own think-tank called CAST. He invited two friends
to our talk too: one, a former army officer, the other an expert on religion and
politics in Central
Asia.
Our host was as
brash as he was uninterested in our work (I especially felt he dismissed Monica
because she was a woman). She introduced the subject of her research and he
averred that he knew very little about these things, save as a Russian citizen.
Also, he wanted to emphasize that he and his colleagues were "rightists" and
their work did not prepare them to give expert opinions on things such as human
rights issues.
That
said, he was interrupted by a phone call and we then had the opportunity to talk
with his friends, who were as generous as they were informative. We were also
served strong tea with sugar. I asked what lessons had been learned by the
Russian military between the two wars in Chechnya. Our former officer said there
were two sorts of lessons, one technological (new equipment has been designed
and built to fight urban insurgencies more effectively) and the other, more
important innovation, was Chechenization (the practice of paying some Chechens
to fight other
Chechens).
I'm
personally skeptical that either innovation will do much more than defer the
costs of the war to future generations of Russians and, possibly, Europeans and
North Americans.
After
that I asked the religion and politics expert whether he thought there was any
connection between Muridism (the 19th-century pan-Islamic movement that turned
the Caucasus into a thirty-year war zone) and Wahhabism (a highly conservative
version of Islam and the official religion of Saudi Arabia). My interest is in
functional similarities (allowing disparate local groups to act as a united
front under the banner of "Islam"), but our interviewee focused on differences
in the content of each set of beliefs. Very
interesting.
We
carried on for some time, and in fact went over our hour-long limit. This was
only a problem because Sergei expected us in an hour, and wouldn't be happy if
we kept him waiting. So we said our goodbyes and promised to help them with
their research should they need it, then dashed out into the rain to find
Sergei.
We found him
and he was not happy (didn't complain, but the ride home was quiet). After forty
minutes or so we arrived home, paid Sergei his fee plus a big tip (smile), then
rushed upstairs to get the kids ready to go to a play date at Elizabeth Messud's
home. Elizabeth sent her driver to pick up Sam, Ingrid, and Monica, who left at
just after 4:00 p.m.; while Mom and I read and watched TV before heading off to
dinner at
Akademia.
Dinner was
wonderful, and we came home and found a Clark Gable movie on TCM (set in the
USSR just after WWII, we got to see newsreel film of all the places we've been
walking and visiting for the last twenty days). Monica and the kids arrived home
at just after 8:00 p.m.; and I got them bathed and into their pajamas for bed
(Ingrid for some reason bit me on the back of my leg as I was making her milk,
and I yelled at her: I hope I never again see the look of hurt she gave me after
that).
Monica told us
of a difficult four hours, with Sam breaking Sasha's toy gun, then ruining a
300-piece family puzzle, before refusing to eat his
dinner.
Then it was
time to tie up the days loose ends, and everyone went to bed (not before a bit
of difficulty with some construction work going on next door: hammering and door
slamming).
No photos
today. Tomorrow I'm to meet with a representative of the Committee of Soldiers'
Mothers at a peace conference on Prospect Mira. We have another interview at
5:00 p.m. and then it will be time to pack and get ready for the long trip
home.
Good
night.
Posted: Mon - June 20, 2005 at 11:11 PM