In the Cold War, when it was safe and prudent always to look for darkness, an assumption drove much of Moscow-based U.S. journalism: “No matter what happens, identify the worst possible scenario and assume that is what has happened.”
It worked for lots of issues. Pollution? Assume the worst. Repression? Assume the worst. Disaster? (Anything from a space debacle to a natural disaster to a coal mine explosion, if word dribbled in that something troubling had happened, one could always just embrace the worst and start reporting.)
No matter what the rumor, you could never assume it was just, well, a rumor.
If a regional newspaper arrived in Moscow and displayed the obituaries of hundreds of relatively young men, you started looking for an industrial disaster, an explosion, whatever might explain what happened. I know this sounds desperately pessimistic, but it worked so well it had to be a part of the reporter’s tool kit.
With the decline and collapse of Communism and the arrival of a new era, one of the bright prospects was that we in the West would actually know with some certainty what was happening in Russia, even in the Kremlin, where it appeared for a brief time that openness might accompany the arrival of the new age.
These developments were so optimistic that they signaled the end of the bipolarism that had defined our role in the world, and the Soviet Union’s, too, since the end of World War II. We would no longer have to build our defense budgets on an assumption that the Russians would be rolling into Germany at some stage.
But now there are signs that those troubling old Soviet ways have come sweeping back with a passion. Intrigues of all kinds were the earmarks of Soviet politics in the Cold War. Cold War politics may not be back on the scene, but intrigue is back with a disturbing passion.
This is important to remember as an international journalists’ association assembles this week in Moscow for a big meeting that has, at its heart, the question, “Who has been killing reporters here?” Fourteen have been murdered since Vladimir Putin took office in 2000.
I am specifically interested in finding out who killed reporter Anna Politkovskaya, shot to death in the lift at her apartment in Moscow, and I am interested in finding out who killed Alexander Litvinenko, who downed some poisoned tea and became the victim of a radioactive isotope, polonium 210.
My interest in these slayings from last year is meaningless, except that they have revived that old feeling.
What would be the worst case scenario?
For Politkovskaya, it would be that she was the victim of a government hit, maybe not officially approved at the highest levels. (That’s right, President Vladimir Putin’s office. But no one would be stupid enough to do that.) There are plenty of functionaries down the hungry feeding chain who would be willing to rid Putin of anyone who presents a challenge.
What you have to know about that case is that Politkovskaya had heroic status almost everywhere but at home. You can find out why by reading “A Russian Diary,” a new Random House book that is her final effort.
She would have been welcome in the United States (she was born here to Soviet diplomat parents) but decided to keep on pushing her journalism, which was controversial and powerfully critical of the government.
That kind of criticism is part of journalism tradition in America. That’s not the case in Russia.
She made lots of enemies, and one of them killed her.
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Justice knows no borders. We need to know who did it.
Litvinenko’s death is more complicated. A review of the record shows there are lots of people, including former friends and business associates, who might want him dead. He was KGB at the start and Federal Security Service after that and, apparently, trouble all the way.
His old cop friends claimed he betrayed them. He moved to London and became a loud critic of Putin, who headed the Federal Security Service before becoming Russian leader.
At about the time he was drinking his fatal cup of tea, Litvinenko was trying to set himself up as a private detective in London who would research and provide information on business interests in Russia.
That would be like skipping naked through whole rooms full of hornet nests.
British counter-intelligence specialists investigated his murder and want one of his old friends, Andrei Lugovoi, another former federal cop who now has beer franchises and runs a security service in Moscow, extradited to face murder charges.
That’s probably not going to happen.
The problem with these two murders is what they say about our assumptions about the birth and development of a “new” Russia.
Media is withering on the vine or already back under either state control or the control of friends of the state (just as bad).
With a year to go in office, Putin is supported by more than 7 of 10 Russians, polls show. He will pick his own successor, no doubt.
And I am fighting an old inclination to assume the worst, just so I am not disappointed.
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Charles M. Madigan is a Tribune senior correspondent, editor and columnist. E-mail: [email protected]