Having a wonderful time reminiscing about all my past travel (and other) adventures. Hope you’ll share them with me in my blog, “All Roads Led to Russia.”
That’s an easy one: it’s “лицемерие” — or “litsemeriye” in the more familiar Latin alphabet. Broken down, it’s a blend of two words: “face” and “measure,” which makes perfect sense.
But allow me to go off course for a moment before coming back to the subject. On August 19th I posted an article titled “Protection . . . or Censorship?” expressing my concern over Facebook’s having removed one of my posts because they didn’t like something (unspecified) about some part of it. Bottom line: I changed the title, removed a picture, and re-posted the article with the main text unchanged — and it cleared the FB “censors.” But that’s just small stuff.
This week there has been a big to-do in the news about a man named Pavel Durov being arrested in France. Durov was born in Russia 39 years ago, but is now a citizen of both the UAE and France, living in Dubai but traveling widely throughout the world on his private jet. He is a billionaire entrepreneur, the originator of “VKontakte” (“In Contact”) — the Russian equivalent of Facebook — and now CEO of the very successful, and very controversial, messaging app known as “Telegram.”
Pavel Durov
Telegram’s success is largely due to the fact that it provides custom security settings, including “secret chats,” and does not require the use of a phone number. It has been widely used by the Russian and Ukrainian governments as a platform for a second war — a war of words — and by other governments and individuals throughout the world for even more nefarious purposes.
And here is where Pavel Durov ran into trouble: As CEO of Telegram, he unconditionally refuses to furnish confidential user information to governments — including France — attempting to investigate criminal activity being conducted on Telegram. (He similarly refused the same “requests” from the Russian government, which was why he left Russia in 2014. He was considered a hero then.)
It’s the old “protection vs. censorship” conundrum, which even the so-called experts have been unable to resolve, and I certainly wouldn’t presume to try to untangle.
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So this is where I make a U-turn, and go back to my original subject: Hypocrisy.
You will recall that Pavel Durov was born and raised in Russia. It is unclear whether or not he has renounced his Russian citizenship since acquiring others; but whatever the case, the Russian government has predictably stuck its nose into Durov’s present problem — not to protect one of their native sons, but to turn it into yet another sticky legal and political issue.
You see, Durov is also in trouble in Russia since his refusal to comply with a court order that would have given the Kremlin access to private Telegram messages. As a result, Telegram has been blocked in Russia since 2018 (except, apparently, when the Kremlin chooses to access it for its own purposes). So yeah, you can bet they want “access” to him!
And here’s where it gets funny. It seems that Russia’s “representative to international organisations in Vienna,” one Mikhail Ulyanov, has now said about France’s arrest of Durov that:
“Some naive persons still don’t understand that if they play more or less visible role in international information space it is not safe for them to visit countries which move towards much more totalitarian societies.” [Al Jazaeera, August 25, 2024.]
And that’s not all. The Russian Embassy in Paris has requested consular access to Durov, and demanded that French authorities — you’re going to love this one — “ensure the protection of his rights.” The embassy further said — in a statement posted on Telegram, no less! — that “As of today, the French side has so far avoided cooperation on this issue.” [Mary Ilyushina and Rachel Pannett, The Washington Post, August 25, 2024.]
Who are these people? Ulyanov in Vienna, and some unnamed embassy official in Paris, preaching about “totalitarian societies” and “protection of rights”?!! Are they freakin’ serious??!!!
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I don’t believe any further comment on my part is necessary at this point. I just wish my public source of all Russian wisdom, Dmitry Peskov, would come back from wherever he’s been this past week, and straighten things out for us. You are sorely missed, Dima.
Born in Tambov, central Russia, Pavel Kushnir was by all accounts a musical prodigy, doubtless inheriting his talent from his musician parents. He began playing the piano at age two, and at 17, performed a 2-1/2-hour concert of the 24 preludes and fugues of Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich. Later that year, he was admitted to the Moscow Conservatory. [Elizaveta Fokht, BBC News Russian, August 24, 2024.]
Pavel Kushnir
A classmate at the Conservatory, Julia Wertman, describes Kushir as having “cultivated a ‘dissident image,’ often wearing a shabby coat and black clothes, with a half-litre bottle of vodka sticking out of a pocket.” [Id.]
Another friend, Olga Shkrygunova, described him as “a cog that didn’t fit any machine, and it had been that way since his childhood.” [Id.]
After graduation, he moved around, taking jobs in smaller cities, where he believed he would have more musical and personal freedom than in Moscow — Yekaterinburg, then Kursk, followed by three years in Kurgan on the Asian side of the Ural Mountains, where he lost his job at the philharmonic orchestra in 2022, for reasons unknown. He finally wound up in Birobidzhan, playing with the Philharmonic there.
Birobidzhan, Russia
He began spending his free time protesting the war in Ukraine. He told friends he would go out at night to stick posters around the city, bearing slogans denouncing the draft and describing Vladimir Putin as a fascist.
He published four anti-war videos on YouTube, which had only five subscribers; the final one described the Russian massacre at Bucha, Ukraine, in 2022.
In 2023, he began staging hunger strikes. He felt the need to protest, and didn’t know how else to do it. His friends tried to convince him to leave Russia, but they never managed to arrange the trip. In late March of 2023, he told his friend Shkrygunova that he felt as though he was being watched, and that he “kept seeing the same person.” [Id.]
He was a man with a mission; he knew the dangers; yet he kept going . . . always alone.
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A few months after his last YouTube broadcast, a video was shown on a Telegram channel friendly to Russia’s secret services wherein Kushnir was seen being led by masked men into a white minivan. The report stated that a criminal case had been opened against him, charging him with “making a public call to engage in terrorist activity” — a crime punishable by up to seven years in jail.
And then there was nothing more until August 2nd, when his friend Olga Shkrygunova and human rights activist Olga Romanova published news of his death in an article on the Vot Tak online news report. [Id.]
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Oddly, there is no record in the Birobidzhan City Court of a criminal case against Kushnir, though there is a non-criminal charge of “petty hooliganism” filed on June 20th. On July 19th, he was fined an unknown amount; the copy of the verdict sent to him was returned on July 30th, marked “not possible to deliver.”
Pavel Kushner, age 39, had already died in pretrial custody — officially of “dilated cardiomyopathy and congestive heart failure.”
And in so doing, he accomplished what he had wanted to do all along: he became known for the cause he had undertaken. A book he wrote in 2014 has been republished in Germany. Tributes to him have been written by 22 leading classical musicians and others.
And his YouTube channel, which had only five subscribers in his lifetime, has now been viewed more than 22,000 times.
Pavel Kushner — a man with a conscience who chose his own form of imprisonment in order to protest the despotic regime of Vladimir Putin and the invasion of Ukraine — is no longer alone and unknown.
Requiescat in pace, Pavel Kushner.
In his own way, he was another of Putin’s hostages.
In truth, I have no special affinity for diamonds. They’re beautiful, but not really a necessity in my life.
But this diamond — well, that’s a whole different ball game. Found in Botswana — the world’s second-largest producer of natural diamonds (behind, of all places, Russia) — it is the largest one found in more than a century, and the second largest ever discovered in a mine.
As yet unnamed, it weighs in at about half a kilogram (a little over a pound), and is described as “fist-sized,” “exceptional,” “overwhelming,” and . . . by Botswana’s President Mokgweetsi Masisi . . . simply “Wow!” [Sello Motseta, Associated Press, August 22, 2024.]
It is, of course, too soon to place a value on the stone. I’m not a gemologist — not even an amateur — but I would guess that the value will depend on the usual “cut, clarity and color,” the absence or number of imperfections, as well as how it is to be divided into individual gemstones. To put it in perspective, a smaller diamond from the same mine was sold for a record $63 million in 2016. [Id.]
I do know that I would not want to be the lapidary chosen to make that first cut.
And if it were mine? Well, I don’t really enjoy a lifestyle that calls for the Crown jewels.
And I’m fairly small, so no Liz Taylor-size gems for me.
Nor do I crave jewel-encrusted costumes.
On second thought, maybe if I looked like that . . .
But more realistically, don’t you agree that it might make a nice:
Well, that can be decided later. For now, just add it to my Christmas wish list . . . somewhere between the new Jaguar XJ and that little estate in The Hamptons I saw listed on Zillow. And thanks in advance.
We continue to celebrate the homecoming of the sixteen hostages on August 1st, and wish them renewed health and success in their return to families, friends, and their real lives.
But there are still eight Americans — and hundreds of Russian dissidents — who remain locked up in Russia. So we also continue to remember them each week, and pledge to do so until each and every one has been returned home.
Sadly, but not surprisingly, this week saw the Russian court’s denial of the appeal of one of those eight Americans, Gordon Black, and his return to prison to serve out the remainder of his sentence.
U.S. Army Staff Sergeant Gordon Black was stationed in South Korea when he fell into a Russian “honey trap.” He was on his way back to his home in Texas, on two weeks’ leave, when he was lured to Vladivostok by the Russian girlfriend he had met in Korea. He was arrested in May of 2024 on charges of alleged larceny and murder threat, and sentenced the following month to a prison term of three years and nine months.
Staff Sergeant Gordon Black – “Hostage of the Week”
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Ksenia Karelina, dual U.S.-Russian citizen, recently convicted of espionage and sentenced to 12 years in prison for contributing $51.80 to an American charity providing aid to Ukraine.
Ksenia Karelina
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Marc Fogel, a schoolteacher from Pennsylvania, was arrested in August of 2021 for possession of 0.6 ounce of legally-prescribed (in the U.S.) medical marijuana. In June of 2022 he was sentenced to 14 years in prison.
Marc Fogel
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Robert Romanov Woodland, a dual US-Russian citizen, was teaching English in Russia when he was arrested in January of 2024 for allegedly attempting to sell drugs. In July, he was sentenced to 12-1/2 years in a maximum security prison.
Robert Romanov Woodland
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Robert Gilman, already in jail in Russia serving a 4-1/2-year sentence (later reduced to 3-1/2 years on appeal) for kicking a police officer in 2022, found himself facing added charges in 2023 of punching prison staff in the head, and later also attacking a criminal investigator and another prison guard.
Robert Gilman
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David Barnes, an American citizen and resident of Texas, was arrested in January of 2022 while visiting his children, who had been taken to Russia from Texas by his Russian wife. He was charged and sentenced in the fall of that year to 21 years in prison for child abuse (allegedly occurring while in Texas), on his wife’s accusation. I really wish I knew more of this story!
David Barnes
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Eugene Spector, a dual US-Russian citizen already serving a four-year sentence handed down in June of 2021 on a bribery conviction, received additional charges of suspicion of espionage in August of 2023. No other details have been found, as the evidence is labelled “classified.”
Eugene Spector
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Michael Travis Leake, a rock musician and former paratrooper, was sentenced in July of this year to 13 years in prison on drug charges — specifically, suspicion of selling mephedrone, and organizing a drug trafficking business “involving young people.”
Michael Travis Leake
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Are any of these prisoners actually guilty of the charges leveled against them? I don’t know. But I do know that the recent timing of a number of the arrests, and the speed with which they were brought to trial, is a clear indication of Russia’s intentional roundup of American citizens to be used as (what I call) Putin’s Pawns.
What they are, quite simply, are HOSTAGES. And they will not — MUST not — be forgotten. Let’s shorten this list to zero.
Having recently heard the descriptions of the Russian prison systems from the sixteen newly released (i.e., traded) political prisoners, it is difficult to imagine a situation in which four prisoners convicted of actual violent crimes could manage to overwhelm and take hostage twelve people — eight officers and four inmates — killing four of the officers before themselves being shot and killed by special forces snipers.
But it happened this week in maximum security prison IK-19 in Surovikino, near Volgograd, Russia.
Russian Federal Penitentiary Service Vehicles at Surovikino
What we have learned from American journalist Evan Gershkovich and the others of their experiences has been horrifying: innocent civilians, guilty of no more than having criticized the Russian government or the war against Ukraine, being locked for months in punishment cells, deprived of basic necessities, and never seeing another human being other than the prison guards and occasionally their attorneys.
Yet in a supposed “maximum security” prison, we now have four ISIS-affiliated convicts — charged with violent crimes — being in a position to grab and kill prison officers and other inmates during a meeting of the prison system’s disciplinary commission. [Radina Gigova and Sergey Gudkov, CNN, August 23, 2024.]
There is a scarcity of detail thus far; but such meetings are said to be held “where cases of malicious violators are considered, among other things.” It does seem that there must have been a sizable group of people present; but there is no information given as to whether the prisoners were involved in the meeting, whether they were in any way restrained, whether the prison guards were armed . . . or much of anything else to indicate exactly how the scenario evolved, other than the fact that the assailants did have knives. Where they got those knives, we don’t yet know.
One of the ISIS-Affiliated Hostage-Takers
There is a description of one of the hostage-takers “displaying a flag emblematic of the Islamic State” — likely the photo above — and an indication that one of the suspects said the strike was “revenge” for the militants presently being held elsewhere on charges of having committed the attack on a concert venue near Moscow earlier this year in which more than 130 people were killed. [Id.]
This week’s siege ended when “Snipers from the special forces of the Russian National Guard in the Volgograd Region neutralized four prisoners who had taken prisoner [sic] employees hostage with four precise shots; the hostages were freed.” [Id.]
Well, except the three who had been killed earlier (the fourth victim died later).
Further information (though unconfirmed) identified the four perpetrators as being two men from Uzbekistan and two from Tajikistan. Three were serving terms for illegal drug charges, and one for “inflicting serious damage to a person’s health.” [RadioFreeEurope/RadioLiberty, August 23, 2024.]
This was an incident that never should have occurred in the first place. But once it did start, the “special forces” knew exactly how to end it. They’re good at “neutralizing.”
Special Forces at IK-19 Prison
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On reading these articles, I couldn’t help making the mental leap from prison IK-19 to other prisons — those penal colonies where American and other Western political prisoners have been (and some still are) held hostage on false charges built out of thin air — and some questions come immediately to my mind. First and foremost: Why are non-violent political prisoners — those men and women like Gershkovich, Paul Whelan, Alsu Kurmasheva, and Vladimir Kara-Murza — so closely confined and guarded, when they are obviously not a physical threat to anyone? Whereas in prisons for violent criminals . . . well, we’ve just seen what can happen there.
There are still eight American hostages locked away in Russian penal colonies on strictly political grounds, falsely convicted of espionage and similarly ludicrous charges. They’re never going to riot, to try to take hostages, to cause any sort of trouble. They deserve humane treatment, but they won’t receive it as long as Vladimir Putin is allowed to use them as pawns for a future trade . . . because he knows that the worse they are treated, the more incentive there is for us to bring them home.
And the grand-prize question — the one I keep asking, over and over again — is this: How long is Vladimir Putin going to be allowed to continue flouting international law, invading sovereign countries, and committing his crimes against humanity? Surely, the Russian people deserve better.
Yesterday I wrote about the sad passing of Sphen, the gay Australian penguin, and his surviving life companion, Magic. I was so taken with the story of their romance and the family they had fostered together, and I was sure it must have been a rare event — if not actually unique — in the avian world.
Sphen and Magic
And then today I was amazed to read about a similar case . . . only these two are not penguins, but a pair of beautiful pink flamingos.
Seriously.
This couple call the Paignton Zoo in southwest England their home. There is reportedly a thriving gay flamingo community there, but one pair — Arthur and Curtis — are indeed unique in that they are the first known to have adopted and hatched an abandoned egg, thus becoming proud parents of a little flaminglet. [AJ Willingham, CNN’s Good Stuff, August 24, 2024.]
And yes, that is what baby flamingos are called. They’re also sometimes called chicklets, but that just reminds me of my favorite chewing gum when I was a kid, so I’ll go with flaminglet.
Anyway, I’m sure Arthur and Curtis will make fine parents to little what’s-its-name. And their story, along with that of Sphen and Magic, has taught me something I did not know — quite probably because I never had a reason to give it any thought: and that is, that humans are not the only animal species of which some members are homosexual.
And that is an exciting discovery, because it led me to conclude that the answer to the age-old argument of “nature vs. nurture” turns out to be — at least where birds are concerned — nature. Right? You can dress your little girl penguin in a tuxedo, and your little boy flamingo in a pink tutu, and they will still turn out to be as Mother Nature — not you — intended them to be.
Which is a good thing. They’re gorgeous creatures, they’re happy, they’re living the good life, free of hang-ups or prejudices, doing no harm to anyone.
We humans could learn a lot from our feathered friends.
This is the second episode of my adventures in Moscow in 1993 (the first one — Chapter 14 — was re-posted on 8/20/24). This one will make much more sense if you read the earlier one first. Enjoy.
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February 21, 1993 – Eight time zones away in Moscow, Valentin Aksilenko answered the ringing telephone: “Allo?”
“Valentin, what in hell is going on over there?!!” I was clearly in no mood for preliminaries.
Valentin chuckled, not at all surprised to have heard from me. “Oh, you saw the Washington Post?”
So this Yuri Shvets quoted in the article was the friend he had told me about in Moscow. The entire scenario had obviously been carefully planned, by both of them, well in advance. And Shvets’ last interview had taken place while I was still in Moscow — perhaps at the very moment that I had been sitting and talking with Valentin in the Radisson’s business center. What kind of dangerous game were they playing? And how had I managed to be dragged into it? Was my being in Moscow at that exact time just the worst kind of serendipity?
The Front-Page Headline
In disbelief, I responded: “Is he crazy? Does he know what he’s doing?’
I was clearly upset, yet Valentin remained perfectly calm. He assured me that everything was fine, that there was no cause for concern, and that his friend had things well under control. Seriously?? This Shvets guy was advertising the fact that he was about to blow the whistle on the KGB, and everything was “under control”? How was that even possible? But I somehow managed to restrain myself, and not ask any further questions. I reminded myself that we were, after all, on an unsecured phone line between Moscow and the United States. Valentin’s calm demeanor, at first puzzling, was actually smart; he had been well trained. I should have realized that in the first place, but this was unfamiliar territory for me.
Valentin further confirmed that our business arrangement was still in place; they would draft an agreement to be signed by the three of us, granting me a percentage of any income from the “transaction”; and I should please go ahead with the search for a publisher. That was the least of my worries at the moment, but I took my cue and thanked him, told him I looked forward to receiving the agreement, and we said our goodbyes. Then I started pacing from room to room.
I never did get breakfast that day, and I’m not all that sure about lunch either. I kept rereading the newspaper article and trying to imagine a scenario in which Shvets’ book could be published without creating a firestorm in Moscow; but I wasn’t having any luck. First, however, I decided I had to protect myself on this end — not just financially, but legally. I needed to be sure that a commercial transaction of this type would not be in violation of any U.S. laws, regulations, or existing sanctions against Russia. As for the controversial content of the book, that would be the publisher’s problem, not mine. It was Sunday, so I couldn’t make any phone calls that day, but I knew whom I had to call on Monday: a friend in the Justice Department.
I woke early Monday morning and made the call. My friend asked a few questions, then assured me that there was no legal restriction against the type of business arrangement I had described, and no reason why a book by a Russian author couldn’t be published in the U.S. One of his questions concerned the identities of the two men.
The next day, the FBI came to call.
FBI Headquarters, Washington, DC
One or both of the names had apparently sent up a red flag in the Justice Department’s database, and my inquiry had immediately been referred to the Department’s investigative arm, the FBI. My first thought was that they were going to suggest that I back off and not get involved with anyone, former or current, from the KGB — which, of course, would have been sound advice. But that’s not what happened. In fact, they said they saw no problem, but asked that I keep them informed of my progress.
If you’ve never been in this type of situation, let me assure you that it’s really hard to say no to the FBI. They’re the good guys, right? — no threats, no strong-arm tactics, polite and friendly, bravely protecting our country’s interests. If you’ve done nothing wrong, not broken any laws, then you naturally want to help, to give something back to the country that has given you so much. It’s a no-brainer . . . or so it seemed. So I said fine, I’ll keep in touch.
Without going into the boring details, I was able, through a mutual acquaintance, to arouse the interest of a leading literary agent in New York, John Brockman. John was taken with the story of the would-be author Shvets and his colleague Aksilenko, but said that he could not consider representing an author he had never met or spoken to. He urged me to send an invitation to the two men to visit the U.S. for a brief period, during which he could assess the validity of their story and the likely value of Shvets’ manuscript.
Oh, okay, sure . . . no problem. Two (allegedly) retired, high-ranking KGB officers — Colonel Aksilenko and Major Shvets — would certainly be allowed to leave Russia for the United States, and thereafter be permitted by our State Department to enter the U.S., unquestioned and unrestrained at both ends. Just a little ten-day business jaunt — a piece of cake.
What it really was, was insane.
But I told myself I had to try. Regardless of who they were, or had been, I was representing them in a legitimate commercial transaction, and had a contractual obligation to them as my clients. I also, of course, had made a promise to the FBI, and I dutifully reported this development to them. I issued the requisite official letter of invitation to each of the men for a ten-day business-related visit in the spring, and sat back to wait for the State Department’s inevitable (I assumed) denial of their visa applications.
But what actually occurred was mind-boggling. With lightning speed, the visas were approved by State and issued by our embassy in Moscow; the two men managed to make airline reservations on the Russian airline, Aeroflot; and Aksilenko advised me that they would be arriving at JFK International Airport in New York on April 25, 1993, for a ten-day stay. Someone obviously wanted them here — but who? And why? And how had they managed their departure from Moscow so easily? These were just the first of scores of questions yet to be encountered . . . and never answered. Regardless of how or why, the Russians were coming.
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I was to go to New York to meet them on their arrival. John Brockman had invited all three of us to stay overnight at his country home in Connecticut, and was sending a car and driver to transport us there from JFK Airport. We would drive back into New York City the following morning for meetings with prospective publishers. It was VIP treatment, and all very efficiently arranged. But a funny thing happened on the way to the airport . . .
I had opted to travel to New York by Amtrak’s express train. On arrival at New York’s Penn Station, I took a taxi to JFK Airport, instructing the driver to drop me at the international arrivals terminal for incoming Aeroflot flights. Whether he didn’t understand me, or simply didn’t know his way around the airport, I don’t know; but I was delivered to the wrong terminal. And by the time I got inside and realized it, my taxi was gone and there were no others around. And no shuttle bus in sight. I had no idea of how to get where I was supposed to be; I’m a Washingtonian, not a New Yorker.
And just then the clouds parted, the hand of God descended and delivered to this lost lamb an angel from Heaven.
No, no! Not so dramatic!
Or, more likely, the FBI had reached out and sent me an agent. A very respectable-looking man approached me, said I appeared to be lost, and asked if he could help. I explained my problem, and he said — miracle of miracles! — that he was also going to international arrivals and would be happy to give me a lift. His car just happened to be parked nearby.
Now, I’m not a stupid person, and under normal circumstances I do not get into vehicles with strangers. But this was not a normal circumstance, and he was not your average stranger. Plus, I was running late and becoming desperate. So with some trepidation and a silent prayer, I accepted the Good Samaritan’s offer. He knew exactly where to go, dropped me off in front of the correct terminal, said goodbye and good luck, and drove off. I never saw him again; apparently he had no business in international arrivals after all.
Hopelessly Lost at JFK
But there was no time to think about that. I ran into the terminal, looked around near baggage claims, and found Valentin Aksilenko standing next to a man, obviously our driver, who was holding a card with my name written on it. What a relief! But where was Yuri Shvets?
As I greeted Valentin and the driver, apologizing for my tardiness, a man came inching out of a nearby corner, where he had been partially hidden in the shadows. He was of average height, slight build, with luxuriant dark hair that was styled in what could only be described as a pompadour (you younger readers can look that up), and conspicuously well dressed and unwrinkled for a long-distance traveler. Was this the mysterious author, whistle-blower, and spy extraordinaire? Really?
After a quick introduction, we grabbed our respective suitcases and headed for the car to take us to Connecticut. I sat in the front seat with the driver, giving the two visitors a bit of privacy in the rear. In addition to jet lag, they must surely have been stressed beyond belief. We chatted a bit about their flight, the lovely countryside, and other nonsense, and then I left them alone to talk softly between themselves — in Russian, of course. I couldn’t catch a word of their conversation, nor did I try.
The Brockmans were the perfect hosts, and we all spent a delightful evening, with drinks on the enclosed porch, a stroll through the historic farm property, a lovely dinner, and endless conversation. The following morning, we rode into the city, met with three prospective publishers, and Shvets’ book was quickly bought for publication by Simon & Schuster. After a brief meeting back at the offices of Brockman, Inc., we enjoyed a celebratory lunch (again, compliments of John Brockman) in a restaurant with a beautiful view of Rockefeller Plaza, and three of us — the two exhausted Russians and I — hopped a train back to Washington, where I had left my car parked in the Union Station garage. I drove across the Potomac River via the 14th Street Bridge, checked them into their previously-reserved rooms in a suburban Virginia hotel, and took myself home to collapse. They weren’t the only ones feeling the stress.
(Corrections: Date was April, not June; and Shvets was by that time a Major, not Captain)
It later became public knowledge that, during their stay in Washington, they met with the FBI. How many times they met, or for how long, or what was discussed, I do not know — and I’m sure it’s better that I don’t.
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I have to backtrack a bit here. Following my February trip to Moscow with Kate Williams, I had received an offer from Gil Robinson to join his Foundation as their Moscow office manager for an estimated three to six months. Needless to say, I jumped at the opportunity. I spent a couple of weeks part-time in the Foundation’s Washington office, and was scheduled to leave for Moscow on May 10th. Valentin’s and Yuri’s visas were due to expire on May 5th. I was cutting it close, with only five days between their departure and my own in which to get ready for the move. And all the while I was spending time with them, with the FBI (whose presence had increased dramatically since the arrival of the two visitors), with my family and friends, on the phone with Brockman, suspending home deliveries and services, cleaning out my refrigerator, and packing half my wardrobe and an entire pharmacy. Today, just thinking about it is exhausting.
So when they took off as scheduled on May 5th, I was relieved, to say the least. And on May 10th, I left on an Air France flight from Dulles International Airport with 16 pieces of baggage — seven or eight of my own, the remainder being office supplies and equipment belonging to the Foundation. The overweight charges were enormous, but luckily a very sympathetic Air France supervisor, on hearing that we were doing humanitarian aid work for children, cut the costs in half. Also fortunately, I had the Foundation’s American Express corporate card to cover the still hefty charges.
Heading Into the Unknown
And off I went, leaving everyone and everything behind, heading into . . . what? I had no idea, but I was sure it wouldn’t be dull. And I was so right.
Join me next time, as I arrive in Moscow to get settled, meet my new “family,” visit Kyiv at last, and become much too well acquainted with the Russian authorities.
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Re-posting these chapters is almost like reliving those events in 1993, and I find myself wondering where I found the courage to take off into the unknown, by myself, in those days when Russia was being referred to as “The Wild East,” and all business was being conducted through the new “mafia” gangs. But I’m so glad I did, while I had the chance.
It seems as though Viktor Orban is determined to become a total pariah amongst his fellow EU members . . . and all in order to find favor with Vladimir Putin.
So what has he done now? Oh, not much — just invited Russia, Belarus, Moldova, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Montenegro, and North Macedonia to traipse freely throughout all the countries of Europe’s Schengen zone, basically unimpeded.
Let’s see now . . . What’s wrong with this picture?
“Hmmm . . .”
A little background: Hungary’s existing “national card” program makes it easier for people from other countries to come to Hungary to live and work than if they were to apply for traditional work permits or business visas. The holder of a national card is allowed to work in Hungary without any special security clearance, and can bring their family with them. [Reuters, August 21.] After three years, it may even lead to permanent residency. [RadioFreeEurope/RadioLiberty, August 13, 2024.]
But now, the extension of the program to include Russia, Belarus, and the others named above has raised more than a few eyebrows — not surprisingly, as it is contrary to EU policy toward Russia and Belarus, in light of the existing EU visa bans and asset freezes on more than 2,000 citizens from both countries, imposed since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. [Id.]
“But isn’t that Hungary’s problem?” — you may ask.
Actually, no . . . because of the aforesaid European Schengen zone, which allows free travel, without the necessity for border checks, among the 29 member countries. This includes virtually all EU countries, with the exception of Ireland and Cyprus.
So, that covers most of Europe . . . including Hungary. Which means that anyone holding a national card from Hungary can also travel freely from there throughout Austria, Bulgaria, Belgium, the Czech Republic, Croatia, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, France, Germany, Greece, Iceland, Italy, Latvia, Liechtenstein, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Malta, Netherlands, Norway, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Slovakia, Slovenia, Spain, Sweden, and Switzerland.
The EU — which has already been at odds with Orban over his continuing close relationship with Vladimir Putin, his “Patriots for Europe” coalition, and his unauthorized visits to Moscow and Kyiv — is quite naturally worried about the likelihood of some (or possibly a lot) of those un-vetted Russians and Belarusians galavanting at will through the Schengen zone.
And considering the recent spate of revelations involving Russian illegals, assassins, and other ne’er-do-wells now back home in Mother Russia thanks to the prisoner swap of August 1st . . . who wouldn’t be worried?
Welcoming the Illegals Back Home – 8/1/24
Sandor Pinter, Hungary’s Minister of the Interior, wrote in a letter to the EU that “The National Card will be issued in accordance with the relevant EU framework and with due consideration of the possible security risks involved. In this respect, the Hungarian legislation and practice, which the Commission has not objected to so far, has not changed.” [Anita Komuves, Reuters, August 21, 2024.]
Well, of course the EU hasn’t objected to it before — it didn’t previously include Russia or Belarus.
Earlier this month, EU internal affairs chief Ylva Johansson warned Hungary that “its decision to ease visa restrictions for Russians and Belarusians posed a potential security threat and [that] she would take action if her concerns were not addressed.” Apparently, Johansson also posed specific questions to Pinter; he has said, in an annex to his letter, that he would provide detailed answers. [Id.]
This is beginning to feel like tryouts for the lead in the high school senior play. First we heard from Ushakov . . . then Chemezov . . . and now it’s Antonov. Who’s up next — is there a Popov in the wings, waiting to deliver the next Putin Proclamation?
And seriously . . . Where on earth is the actual Kremlin spokesman, Dmitry Peskov??!!!
Today’s broadcast of “The Daily Threat From Moscow” was brought to us by the current Russian Ambassador to the United States, Anatoly Antonov. Referring to the Ukrainian counter-offensive (Russian version: “incursion”) in the Kursk region, Antonov said:
“I tell you sincerely that the president has made a decision. I am firmly convinced that everyone will be severely punished for what has happened in Kursk region.”
Ambassador Antonov
Well, I’m sure we’re all glad that he was speaking “sincerely.” We certainly wouldn’t want him to lie to us, would we?
Unfortunately, that was all he had to say about that — no details, despite Putin’s having just met with the governors of border regions and other senior officials. They’re playing this one close to the chest.
He did, however, go on to offer his assessment of the United States, complete with a prediction that it would at some point remove all restrictions on the use of weapons supplied to Ukraine:
“The current administration behaves like a person who extends one hand and holds a dagger behind their back with another one. They are, essentially, laying ground [for a decision] to simply remove all the existing restrictions at a certain point, without much thought.” [Lucy Papachristou, Reuters, August 23, 2024.]
I suppose times have changed; but there was a day when a diplomat was supposed to remain . . . well . . . diplomatic.
Ben Franklin: The Diplomat’s Diplomat
But back to my original point: this round of musical spokesmen being offered us from Moscow this week. It’s an odd assortment, including — so far — an “aide,” an industrialist, and a diplomat. But where is the actual Kremlin press secretary? Where is that adorable Dmitry Peskov? Have there been any sightings of him this week, perhaps on a Crimean beach, or at a casino on the French Riviera?
Dmitry Peskov
Wherever you are, Dima, do enjoy yourself. But come back to us soon, well rested and raring to go, because we miss your unique brand of sarcasm.
– Bodies recovered from yacht sunk by water spout off coast of Sicily . . .
– Volcano erupts in Iceland for sixth time in eight months . . .
– Putin has plan of action to counter Kursk attack . . .
– Trump loses it — again . . .
– Woman is swallowed by sinkhole in Kuala Lumpur . . .
“Holy Sinkholes, Batman!”
And that’s just part of this morning’s news.
I’m going back to bed now. Wake me when we reach the next millennium . . . if we reach the next millennium. Or when there’s actually some good news to report . . . whichever comes first.
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