On the one hand, I’m sure Yevgeny Prigozhin would be happy to know that his Wagner Group lives on, a year after his own death in a fiery plane crash on August 23, 2023. But on the other hand, I’m not so sure he’d like what it’s been turned into.
To begin with, the former Wagner Group is now under the aegis of the GRU — Russia’s military intelligence directorate. It has been renamed, and is now known as the Africa Corps (AC).
If that sounds familiar, it should. The name was stolen directly from Germany’s World War II Afrika Korps, headed by the infamous “Desert Fox,” Field Marshal Erwin Rommel. Why Putin, or the GRU, or whoever chose the name couldn’t come up with something original — and more puzzlingly, why they would choose to adopt the Nazi reference — I can’t imagine; but there it is.
Germany’s Afrika Korps Symbol – World War II
Some things haven’t changed. The war in Ukraine remains the AC’s first priority; but its heavy involvement in African political, industrial and economic affairs has floundered somewhat since the loss of its leader. Prigozhin was the founder of, and the brains and muscle behind, the Wagner Group; and he fiercely maintained its independence. His troops were loyal to him, and his sudden death created a void that has yet to be filled. Not all members remained with what is now the GRUs Africa Corps; some joined the Russian National Guard, while others are now part of a Chechen militia force. [RadioFreeEurope/RadioLiberty, August 21, 2024.]
Wagner Mercenaries in Mali
Political analyst Mark Galeotti, speaking at Washington’s Brookings Institution on August 20th, said that those Wagner personnel who were blended into the GRU are “trying to run a blended diplomatic, commercial, and military structure, while they only have the skill set to run the latter.” [Id.]
The AC remains active in Libya, Mali, and the Central African Republic, and has begun making inroads into Burkina Faso and Niger. Even the government of the little island nation of Sao Tome and Principe, off of Africa’s west coast, has indicated that it would like to send its forces to a Russian training academy in Chechnya. [Id.]
Main Intelligence Directorate
And Russia is buying off Guinea Bissau by canceling and restructuring large portions of its debt, which would give Russia access to that country’s substantial cocaine trade and a link to the organized crime groups from both Africa and Latin America that convene there. [Id.]
That’s how they operate, and always have done: Like any successful Mafia-style group, they play on your weaknesses until they own you. Violence is an adjunct tool, to be used freely as needed.
According to Professor Christopher Faulkner of the U.S. Naval War College, “Africa Corps is still in its elementary phase . . . We’re just waiting to see what’s going to transpire and whether or not Moscow will actually invest in real genuine security in those states.” [Id.]
Sahel Region of Africa
Security? Is that what they’re calling it now? What a great name for sending armed goons into a desperately poor, politically unstable country; promising miracles in return for the only type of payment the country can offer, and its only real asset: its rich natural resources; and installing your own chosen people at the head of the government, thus creating yet another Russian vassal state.
So it’s business as usual in Africa, but without Prigozhin to keep his troops operating efficiently. And the ultimate goal? Well, as Professor Faulkner said, we simply have to wait and see. But it does seem to have some of the earmarks of another Cold War-era Eastern Europe . . . only without having to acknowledge it as an invasion.
I don’t mean when the government or your employer tells you that you are, by reminding you that you now qualify for retirement benefits that will never be enough for you to live on. Nor is it when AARP (American Association of Retired Persons) starts sending you solicitations for membership — because they start that crap when you turn 50, which (trust me) isn’t old. And it’s not when you have to take a special eye test to get your driver’s license renewed.
No! Not Brooke Shields!
No, it’s none of those “official” milestones. Aging is different for each individual, of course. But there are many signs that you’re perilously close to becoming a senior citizen, or an octogenarian, if only you know what they are . . . and have the guts to face up to them. For example:
Remember when your dentist hinted that you might want to consider whitening your teeth? How old were you then — 40? 45? Uh-huh. That might have been a sign.
And when you discovered that those expensive body lotions and creams were sinking into your skin with an audible “slurp” but no longer keeping you moist and velvety?
Or when your beautician or barber began pulling a handful of hair out of the brush after using it on you, and you heard their quiet “Oh-oh”?
Remember the first time the kid behind the ticket counter in the movie box office assumed you qualified for a senior ticket? Didn’t you just want to smack him, even though he was right?
All signs. But just little ones. They became more noticeable over time, like when you couldn’t make it up the hill from your house without stopping halfway to catch your breath. Or the first time you grunted when you pushed yourself out of the easy chair.
Has your partner — or your next-door neighbor — begun complaining about your snoring? Good luck with that one!
Do people get annoyed when they have to repeat everything because you keep telling them they’re mumbling when they’re not? Well, that’s tough. If they don’t like it, let them pay for the hearing aids, because Medicare won’t.
And wait until the first time your bladder wakes you — or, worse, doesn’t wake you — in the middle of the night. You will never have an uninterrupted night’s sleep after that for the rest of your life.
But that’s okay, because you have to get up anyway, for another shot of Pepto Bismol after daring to have a slice of pizza for dinner.
By the way, it won’t be long after that when even mashed potatoes have the same effect. Welcome to the wonderful world of not eating much of anything.
Oh, and this would be a good time to start practicing tightening those butt cheeks, because the gas from the pizza — or even the mashed potatoes — will escape at the most inopportune times. Of course, if it can’t come out that way, it will likely find another exit, in the form of a very satisfying belch that you might not be able to stifle in time. Either way, I recommend looking innocently around the room as if trying to identify the culprit. It only works occasionally, but it’s worth a try. Otherwise, just laugh it off; everyone else will be.
Do your bottles of prescription medicines now outnumber the real teeth you have left in your mouth? If so, you’re well on your way, baby.
Oh, by the way, about that waistline . . . where did that go? And when? Well, it expanded, and it’s now hiding behind those boobs that no longer look proudly forward when you stand up. (And that goes for you men, too, you know.)
Shall we talk about the feet now? You probably never even heard of toenail fungus until a couple of years ago! But don’t despair; there’s stuff to treat that, too.
And let’s see . . . there are those prominent veins on your hands . . . the chicken neck . . . a bunch of little brown spots where you never had freckles before, and . . .
Ah, forget it! The list is too long. I’ve come to the conclusion that trying to battle the inevitable will only lead to clinical depression, which is the last thing you need. So try to overlook your aching back, your reflux, and your cataracts, and be grateful for the fact that you still have your mental . . . your mental . . . your . . .
Kevin Lik, now 19, is the youngest person in modern Russian history to have been convicted of treason. A dubious honor, at best.
Kevin was born in Montabaur, Germany, to a Russian mother (Victoria) and a German father. The marriage eventually dissolved, but Kevin and his mother remained in Germany, visiting friends and family in Russia every couple of years. Finally, in 2017, Victoria’s homesickness won out, and they moved back to her home town of Maykop in the North Caucasus region of Russia. Kevin was 12.
Maykop, Russia
Kevin was an excellent student, and won national and local academic competitions, including a national German language contest and others in history and biology. They lived in the countryside, and he enjoyed taking walks around the area.
Kevin, the Student
As the years passed, Kevin became more interested in politics, and was known occasionally to express his opinion at school. Both he and his mother were aware of the increasing restrictions and dangers of the Putin regime, and the decision was made to move back to Germany. By this time, Russia had invaded Ukraine, and in order to leave the country permanently, Kevin’s name had to be removed from the military register. Victoria was “invited” to sort out the paperwork at the local enlistment office, but when she arrived she was met by the police, accused of “swearing in public,” and sentenced to ten days’ detention.
That left Kevin alone at home. He stopped going to school and rarely left the house, but when he did, he returned to find that “things had been moved around.” [Sergei Goryashko, BBC Russian, August 19, 2024.]
*. *. *
When Victoria was released, she and Kevin tried to leave the country for Germany by way of the southern city of Sochi, which has an international airport. But they were obviously under surveillance, because Kevin noticed a man in a hoodie and mask photographing them on his phone. Almost immediately, a minibus pulled up.
“Eight or nine FSB officers jumped out,” Kevin says. “One grabbed me by the arm. Another came up, showed his ID, and said: ‘A criminal case has been opened against you under article 275: treason.’ My eyes were wide with shock.”
Being Detained In Sochi
In a bizarre twist, Kevin and Victoria were taken to a pizzeria, where their captors actually ordered pizza and offered them some. They were then returned home in the middle of the night, where they were shown a video the FSB officers had made while they searched the apartment. One of the items they found was a broken telescope, which they said he must have used to photograph military vehicles from his window to send to German intelligence. They took his phone and laptop, and found pictures of the nearby military base.
Results of the Apartment Search
And that was all they needed. He was arrested, and assigned a lawyer who recommended he sign a confession to make things easier. He was afraid they would also start pressuring his mother, and didn’t know what else to do. Because he was a minor, he was taken to a special facility in Krasnodar and placed in solitary confinement. A few months later, he turned 18 and was moved to a different prison where he was placed in the general population.
That was when things went from bad to worse. He was beaten by a group of inmates. “They tied my hands, beat me, and even put out a cigarette on me. They hit me so hard in the chest I couldn’t breathe.” [Id.]
Throughout this time, the investigation continued. A former teacher testified against him concerning a question he had once asked her during an academic competition in Moscow. Analysis of the photos he had taken in Sochi concluded they didn’t constitute a state secret, but that they could have been harmful to Russia if they had fallen into foreign hands.
Earlier School Trip to Moscow
His FSB file included details of his childhood trips to Russia with his mother, as far back as when he was two years old. He later learned that his phone had been tapped since 2021.
After ten months, in late December 2023, he was tried, found guilty of treason, and sentenced to four years in a penal colony in Arkhangelsk (Archangel) — a journey that took a month, via several other prisons. He passed the time by reading and studying until, on July 23rd, he was told by a prison officer that he had 20 minutes to “urgently write a petition” for a presidential pardon, which he did.
On July 28th, he was told to bring his toothbrush, toothpaste and slippers, which he took to mean he was being sent to a punishment cell. But he was locked in an office until 1:00 a.m. on the 29th, when a convoy came to take him away.
He said the thought of a possible exchange entered his mind, though nothing of the sort was indicated to him. He was flown to Moscow, kept in jail until August 1st, and then finally put on a plane with the other prisoners being swapped. The transfer was made in Turkey, and he was finally flown to Germany, where he was reunited with Victoria.
All of this despite the fact that he had done absolutely nothing wrong.
The Flight Home
I’ve said it before, but I believe it bears repeating: In Russia today, under the reign of Vladimir Putin, there is no concept of justice or rule of law. After finishing the 20th Century in a burst of newfound freedom and hope for the future of their country, the Russian people have found themselves once more sliding into the morass of totalitarianism. It is not only a tragedy for the citizens of Russia, but also a terrifying danger to the peoples of the surrounding nations who once lived under the yoke of communist rule, and fear it may again be inching toward them. It must be stopped.
*. *. *
Now living in Germany with his mother, Kevin is happily finishing school. When asked for his feelings about his experience, he replies:
“I don’t have a desire for revenge, but I do have a very strong desire to participate in opposition activities.” [Id.]
I must say . . . he’s far more forgiving than I would be under the circumstances.
“The first thing we do is, let’s kill all the lawyers.”
In the context of Henry VI, Part II (Act IV, Scene 2), those lines, when spoken by the villainous Dick the Butcher, make sense . . . in an ironically humorous way. But when applied literally — and most especially in today’s Russia — well . . . I’ll let you judge.
Alexei Navalny — the Russian dissident who for years was an ever-present thorn in Vladimir Putin’s side — died in prison in February of this year under, shall we say, questionable circumstances. But four months prior to his death, in October 2023, three of his attorneys — Vadim Kobzev, Igor Sergunin and Alexei Liptser — were arrested and accused of acting as intermediaries between Navalny and his so-called “extremist group” (the Kremlin’s description for his Anti-Corruption Foundation).
Alexei Navalny
In February — the same month in which Navalny drew his last breath — two more of his lawyers were placed on a wanted list: Olga Mikhailova, who had earlier been charged in absentia with extremism after fleeing the country, and Aleksandr Fedulov, also now living outside of Russia.
The three imprisoned lawyers have in turn retained attorneys to represent them. Those attorneys have petitioned the Supreme Court to transfer the case out of a court in the western Vladimir region of Russia on the grounds that it may not be objective or impartial. They argued that the bulk of the prosecution’s evidence had been obtained in a raid that was in fact illegal, and had been ordered by a superior court in the same (Vladimir) region, which they considered to be a conflict of interest.
Alexei Liptser (L) and Vadim Kobzev
The petition also charged that the Vladimir courts had “pressured Navalny’s lawyers to disclose confidential communications with him before the politician’s February death in a remote Arctic prison.” [Associated Press, August 20, 2024.]
The Russian Supreme Court yesterday refused to release the three lawyers or to transfer their case to a different court, thereby effectively also denying any conflict of interest. The prisoners will now await trial at some unspecified date on charges of extremism. Conviction is a foregone conclusion; the only questions are how long a sentence each will receive, and where it will be served.
*. *. *
Yesterday, I commented on the case of U.S. Army Staff Sergeant Gordon Black, one of the remaining American hostages in Russia’s prison camps, whose appeal has just been denied despite the questionable evidence on which his conviction had been based. At that time, I wrote:
“I can’t even imagine how frustrating it must be, trying to practice law in Putin’s Russia.”
Considering the plight of Attorneys Kobzev, Sergunin and Liptser, it is painfully obvious that I grossly understated the situation. Defending a client against criminal charges not only carries with it a responsibility for the defendant’s life, but — in Russia — for the attorney’s own life as well.
The fact is, there is no justice in Vladimir Putin’s Russia . . . and there never will be, as long as he remains in charge. It is that simple.
Wait a second . . . where’s Peskov? Dmitry, are you there? Dima? Okay, it is August; maybe he’s just on holiday. I hope so, because I miss seeing his face when these declarations are issued from the Kremlin. His delivery, the twinkle in his eyes when he spouts the official line du jour . . . Well, nobody does it like Dima.
Dmitry “Dima” Peskov
But on Monday we were treated to the presence of Russian presidential aide — and former (1998-2008) Russian Ambassador to the United States — Yuri Ushakov presenting us with the latest stand on peace talks between Russia and Ukraine. And that stand, in words of two syllables or fewer, is this:
“At this stage, given this venture (Kursk), we will not talk.” [Reuters, August 19, 2024.]
Yuri Ushakov
Well, no surprise there. Since Ukraine’s unexpected foray into Russian territory at Kursk on August 6th, things have not gone well for Vladimir Putin — not only militarily, but also in terms of his personal reputation as protector of the Motherland. He was caught completely unaware and unprepared, and has had to deal with two weeks (so far) of Ukraine’s successful attacks, placing Russia on the defensive and necessitating the unplanned shifting of troops from some of their offensive positions.
How annoying! How inconvenient! How humiliating!
“I don’t like surprises!”
According to Ambassador Ushakov, however, talks have not been permanently deep-sixed. Asked if Putin’s earlier peace talk proposals were now off the table, he replied:
“No, they have not been cancelled. But at this point, of course, it would be completely inappropriate to enter into any kind of negotiation process.” [Id.]
Sounds like stalling to me. I would imagine they’re having a bit of difficulty in the Kremlin, trying to figure out what to do next. Maybe they should try reversing direction . . .
Most of us are satisfied with living fairly ordinary lives. We strive toward different types and levels of success: a satisfying job that pays a decent living wage; a happy, healthy family; a minimum of bad luck.
Others are more driven to achieve greater levels of “success” — wealth, fame, power. Those are your captains of industry; movie, music and sports stars; world leaders. It’s all a matter of personal choice, unique to each individual according to his or her inborn nature and life experiences.
I feel that the world has enough movers and shakers. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, the Earth is moving and shaking a bit too fast for me ever to try to keep up. But there are those who are never satisfied, always seeking the next best thing, even if it’s not always something monumental.
To me, however, you know you’ve arrived when:
You can — and do — pay $19,000 for a pair of jeans. Now, who would do that? . . . I hear you ask. And I’ll tell you: lots of people with too much money and too much time on their hands. In this case, it was actress Blake Lively who gave in to the impulse. The denim pants were designed by Valentino, and are described as featuring thigh-to-heel cut-outs and hibiscus-shaped embroidery. They’re very cool-looking, actually, and look great on Blake. My thoughts on the price? First, that’s a pretty high profit margin for Valentino. But it’s your money, Blake, and I firmly support your right to spend it any way you choose. I do hope, though, that you at least donated an older garment — say, a $100 pair of Levis — to Salvation Army or Goodwill, so that some family trying to subsist on $19,000 a year can treat their teenage daughter to something special.
Blake Lively (R) and her Valentinos
Russia bans your foundation from operating on their territory. Congratulations, George and Amal Clooney. You have reached the pinnacle of success in life when you’ve been booted out by Vladimir Putin. I’m sorry the good people of Russia will not benefit from your largesse; but most of your contributions would likely have wound up in the wrong pockets anyway. There are plenty of other places that will welcome your good works.
George and Amal Clooney: Doing well, and doing good
You have a lifestyle that allows you to wear these kinds of nails. Clearly, these ladies won’t be washing dishes or changing diapers any time soon.
How would I write my blog with those nails?
Donald Trump claims you support him. Never mind that you’re the number one music celebrity in the world. Or that you’ve got a great family and a killer boyfriend. Or that you’re a savvy businesswoman worth a cool billion. Those all fade into meaninglessness alongside the fact that Donald Trump thinks you are valuable as propaganda for his campaign of lies. And it doesn’t matter that — like most of what he says — not a word of it is true. You have made it, girl! The Donald likes you!
All I can say is . . . better you than me. He just wants the votes from your fans, anyway.
Taylor and the Swifties
*. *. *
And in my case, . . .
When your pharmacist calls you by your first name because you now have more ongoing prescriptions than any of their other customers. Then you know you’ve arrived . . . at official old age.
Of course, it’s still better than the alternative.
Somehow, I’ve always pictured a Chechen warlord as something like this:
Or this:
Or even this:
But I certainly never expected to see him riding in on anything like this:
So imagine my surprise when I learned that Chechen leader Ramzan Kadyrov had taken delivery of a brand-spanking-new Tesla Cybertruck. And then, of course, gussied it up by mounting — in plain sight on the rear hatch — a real live machine gun. Because in Chechnya, you can do that. Then he published a video of himself driving the vehicle, which he says he plans to send to Russian forces on the battlefields in Ukraine. The truck, not the video. [Christian Edwards, CNN, August 19, 2024.]
Great idea! One well-aimed drone, and there goes your Marvelous Machine — not to mention the driver and the gunner. Oh, well . . . easy come, easy go.
Kadyrov says the Tesla was sent to him by “the strongest genius of our time”:none other than Elon Musk himself. [Id.]
Okay, truth: I’m not sure whether I’m laughing at the idea of Musk actually supplying Kadyrov with a Cybertruck (or anything else) . . . or at Kadyrov’s description of Musk as “the strongest genius of our time.” Either way, my abs got some good exercise today.
Musk, of course, denies giving the vehicle to Kadyrov:
“Are you seriously so retarded that you think I donated a Cybertruck to a Russian general?” he wrote on X. [Id.]
Well, I certainly hope not!
In his video, Kadyrov is shown driving the Tesla through an empty square in the capital city of Grozny, then exiting the truck and standing behind the machine gun with an ammunition belt draped around his neck.
He speaks:
“We received a Tesla Cybertruck from the respected Elon Musk. I was happy to test the new equipment and personally saw that there’s a reason that it is called the ‘Cyberbeast’ . . . [calling it “invulnerable,” “fast,” “comfortable,” and “maneuverable.”] Based on such excellent characteristics, the Cybertruck will soon be sent to the special military operation zone. I am sure that this ‘beast’ will bring a lot of benefit to our fighters.” [Id.]
Oh, I’m sure he’s right . . . for about five minutes. But again, about that Ukrainian drone . . .
Ramzan Kadyrov
Judging from that silly grin, I don’t think he believes me. I don’t really care what he believes; but I do wonder what Elon Musk thinks about sending one of his creations into battle.
Every now and then, when the headlines aren’t terribly exciting and I’m stumped for interesting topics for my daily blog, I like to look back at earlier chapters that might bear re-posting. And I usually fall back on my very earliest tales of my own adventures in the late 1980s and early ‘90s, when I was fortunate enough to be traveling and working overseas, mainly in Prague and Moscow.
Those of you who weren’t following me back in early 2023 may wonder why my recent interests seem to center so greatly around Russia and Eastern Europe. So today I have taken an excerpt from Chapter 14, originally posted in March of ‘23, to give you an idea of what my life was like 30 years ago — far, far different from these retirement years.
Do I miss those times? Damned right, I do! Would I do it again? Only if I could turn the clock back — but not now; not in Putin’s Russia today. I’m all for a bit of adventure . . . but I’m not insane.
Here, then, is a teaser that will give you some idea of who I am . . . or once was.
*. *.. *
“‘Glasnost’ is on everyone’s lips, but the rules haven’t changed for either side.” — The Russia House, John le Carre (1989).
Scene from The Russia House
You know how sometimes you can go to a party expecting it to be a total drag, and end up having a wonderful time? Or on a blind date you’re really dreading, where it turns out you meet the love of your life? Well, my next event wasn’t a party or a date, but a simple get-together with an old acquaintance for a bit of pleasant conversation. I certainly never anticipated that that afternoon meeting would be one of the most significant turning points of my life.
“Viktor Akimov” — the commercial/economic First Secretary from the Soviet Embassy in Washington in the late 1970s and early ‘80s — was in fact Valentin Pavlovich Aksilenko. Everything else I’ve told you about him was factual, but I had originally thought to protect the privacy of some individuals by not naming them in my earlier narratives. However, since the stories I’m about to relate are already matters of public record, what would be the point? So, here we go . . .
Valentin Aksilenko
On one of my free afternoons during that week of February 14, 1993, I again met with Valentin Aksilenko in the business center of the Slavyanskaya Radisson Hotel in Moscow. As we had done the previous February, we caught up on world events of the past year, and what each of us had been doing. This time, though, Valentin dropped a seemingly offhand comment to the effect that he was so glad to be “out of intelligence work.”
EXCUSE ME??? I could not have heard that correctly! Were those really the words of a man who obviously had never admitted being in the intelligence field, now telling me how happy he was to be out of it? And why was he revealing it at this particular moment? And why to me?
It’s thought that if you want another person to keep talking, you should just keep quiet. So I did. But instead of continuing, he became still. Leaning forward in his chair, with his forearms resting on his legs, hands clasped between his knees, he stared at the carpeted floor for a seemingly endless moment, deep in thought. I waited, scarcely breathing. At last he sighed as though having made a crucial decision, sat up straight, and looked back at me. To paraphrase his next words:
“I have a friend here in Moscow who was also an intelligence officer at the Embassy in Washington. He’s secretly writing a book about his experiences as a KGB spy in the United States, but obviously he can’t get it published here. We were wondering if you know anyone in the publishing business, and if you think you could help us?”
And there it was: that exact moment in the movie of John le Carre’s The Russia House, when the Russian Katya Orlova delivers a manuscript from her scientist friend to be placed in the hands of the British publisher, Barley Blair, for publication in England because its content is too explosive to be released in Russia.
Only this wasn’t a movie; this was real. And it was happening to me, right then, and right there, in Moscow. Oh! My! God!
Slavyanskaya Radisson Hotel, Moscow – Where It All Began
It never ceases to amaze me how quickly the human brain can process information and make decisions in sink-or-swim situations. I reasoned that I had a choice between a flat-out “Sorry, no, I don’t” and a totally false “Actually, yes, I do.” But my brain, now in overdrive, told me there was a third option: stall. So what I finally said was that, in all honesty, I did not personally know anyone, but that I did know people in New York who might well have connections in publishing. And thereby I unknowingly altered the course of my future, as well as Valentin’s and his friend’s.
. . . that is, if there even was such a friend. He hadn’t mentioned the friend’s name. Wasn’t it just possible that Valentin himself might be this anonymous author, and the unidentified “friend” was merely a kind of misdirection? But there was no time for reasoning just then. I told him I would see what I could do, and left the thinking for later. We parted with a handshake and a promise to be in touch.
When Kate asked me at dinner how my meeting with my friend had gone, I said it had been really nice to see him again, and let it go at that. This was not the sort of information you share with the world. But I hardly slept that night, or for the next couple of nights. We left Moscow on Saturday morning, February 20th, arriving at Dulles International Airport in mid-afternoon Washington time — nighttime in Moscow. I was so exhausted by then — both mentally and physically — that I was in bed by 9:00 p.m. and actually did sleep, not waking until noon on Sunday, February 21st.
Yawning and stretching, I opened my apartment door, bent down to pick up the Sunday edition of the Washington Post, dropped it face-up on the kitchen counter, and headed toward the refrigerator for my customary wake-up glass of orange juice. And halfway there, I stopped dead in my tracks.
Something had caught my eye as that newspaper landed on the countertop. What was it . . . something about the KGB? Turning back, I focused on an article by Michael Dobbs, then the Post’s Moscow Bureau Chief, about a series of interviews given in Moscow — the last one just a few days earlier — by a former KGB Major named Yuri Shvets, who had served in the Soviet Embassy in Washington from 1985-87, and was now writing a tell-all book about his experiences there.
Washington Post, February 21, 1993
The words that came flying from my mouth as I stood alone in my kitchen that day are not fit for printing in this blog. Or anywhere else.
“That #&$*#$ has to be Valentin’s friend.”
“What the #$&%*$ is he doing??”
“Is he #$&#*$-ing INSANE????????”
Well, whoever he was — Valentin’s friend or, unlikely, some other lunatic — I was sure he had just signed his own death warrant. I reread the article and tried to calm down. Then I reached for the phone and dialed Valentin’s number in Moscow, where it was nearly 9:00 p.m. There had to be a logical explanation for this.
Yuri Shvets, in America
*. *. *
Please don’t yell at me for stopping here. It’s an ongoing story, with many twists and turns and some fun stuff in between, that will require about a dozen installments to write. So, like a 1940s radio soap opera (but all true), I must ask you to tune in next time for the continuing saga, etc., etc.
*. *. *
And that’s where Chapter 14 ends. I know . . . that’s so-o-o-o-o mean! But if things stay reasonably calm, and time permits, I promise to continue with subsequent installments. In fact, I can’t wait to reread them myself.
Meet Dixie, a mixed-breed rescue too smart for our good; and Cat, who doesn’t really have a name because she wouldn’t answer to it anyway.
Here you see them in a rare moment of togetherness, where Kitty appears to be giving Dixie a fuzzy-tongued facial scrub. Two minutes later, they were chasing each other around the house; but for this moment, all was peace and quiet.
*. *. *
More often than not, you’ll find Miss Kitty (as I call her) making herself at home in the box from the latest Amazon or UPS delivery. She has a lovely kitty condo, where she does enjoy climbing to the roof and looking out the window at the birds (and bunnies, and deer, and whatever) in the back yard. But given a choice, the box wins, hands down.
*. *. *
While Dixie, spoiled girl that she is, can often be found lying under my Rollator, waiting for her daily — or twice daily — “scratch,” which actually includes a full-body massage. And when I find exactly the right spot that needs a little extra work, like a shoulder or a hip, she’ll turn her head to look at me with gratitude, and give me air kisses.
*. *. *
And here she is in another favorite spot — bib already tied on — watching dinner being served and wondering why there’s never a place set for her at the table. Yeah, she looks starved, doesn’t she?
*. *. *
I just thought you’d like to see that, amongst all of the horrible things I write about on a daily basis, there is sanity in my life. The fur babies are really my son’s; but while everyone else is at work during the day, they’re all mine.
Well, Dixie is, anyway. Miss Kitty is, after all, a cat . . . which means she belongs to no one but herself. Except, of course, at dinnertime.
It was an event of monumental significance: the emergence of Aleksandr Dugin.
Aleksandr Dugin
Not that the 62-year old Russian self-styled political philosopher has been in hiding all these years. It’s just that, somehow, an interview with Tucker Carlson tends to bring one out into the open — warts and all. And I’ve got to tell you: this guy has more warts than a knot of toads.
As for Carlson, it isn’t necessary — nor do I care to devote the time and space — to go into details concerning his political viewpoints or his journalistic skills. He was hot off of that famously disastrous interview with Vladimir Putin last February when he sat down with Dugin to give it another try. And he hadn’t learned a thing. Rather than use the opportunity to question Dugin about his relationship with Putin, the progress of the war in Ukraine, the effect of sanctions on the Russian economy, or any other even vaguely significant topic, Carlson simply let him rant . . . occasionally nodding in agreement or tossing in a few words to trash his own country.
Dugin Interview With Tucker Carlson
Anyway, enough about Carlson. It’s Dugin who concerns me. He allegedly has Putin’s ear and his trust, at least to some extent — he has been called “Putin’s Brain” by some. And he is — to express it in the simplest of terms — a madman. He doesn’t merely support Russia’s invasion of Ukraine; he describes Ukrainians as “a race of degenerates who crept up from sewers and deserve to be eliminated through genocide.” [Julia Davis, CEPA, May 2, 2024.]
He has stated that, in his opinion, Russia’s occupation of Ukraine’s territories amounts to “opposition to the junta and Ukrainian Nazism that exterminates civilians.”
Wait a minute — who’s talking about exterminating civilians now? Who just used the word “genocide”?
And by the way, on behalf of my four Ukrainian grandparents . . . thanks a lot.
He said that he believes the West despises Putin, not because of the war in Ukraine, but because of his “values.” “Given someone with nuclear weapons is standing strong defending traditional values that you’re going to abolish, I think they have some basis for this Russophobia and the hatred for Putin.” [CEPA, id.]
“Putin the Great”
Dugin’s anger, his hatred, his vitriol know no bounds. America — in fact, all of the “Anglo-Saxon world” — is, in his twisted mind, the Antichrist, the purveyor of all evils . . . liberalism being at the top of the list.
In a later interview by Roman Golovanov on the Solovyov Live channel, Dugin claimed that Carlson had favorably compared his interview with an earlier sit-down with Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban, and that Carlson “had praised both Dugin and Orban as representatives of a culture and a civilization that is ‘much deeper’ than that of the West.” [CEPA, id.]
Somehow, being compared with Viktor Orban does not strike me as a compliment. But to Dugin, I suppose it was.
Aleksandr Dugin is important to the Kremlin precisely because of his popularity as a vocal, and virulent, supporter of the war in Ukraine, of Putin’s extreme brand of conservatism, and of the current anti-Western trend in parts of Eastern Europe.
His diverse body of work includes some frightening subjects, such as “apocalypse, millenarianism, occultism, and the problematics of conservative revolution.” [Maxim Trudolyubov and Ekaterina Kotrikadze, Wilson Center: The Russia File, May 10, 2024.]
But in his views on liberalism, he claims that its “globalist” (his term) agenda “takes its unwitting followers away from the collective identities of old — the empire, the nation, the family, and a clearly defined gender. Through artificial intelligence . . . liberalism is threatening to break the last collective identity standing, human personhood itself.” [Id.]
And we haven’t even touched on his conspiracy theories, or his rabid antisemitism. After the terrorist attack on Moscow’s Crocus City Hall music venue last March, Dugin implied that Israel’s Mossad might be to blame: “We shouldn’t rule out any possibilities beforehand. For example, this could be the Zionists’ retaliation for Russia’s stance on Gaza.” [Id.]
Considering that four ISIS-K members from Tajikistan have been charged with that attack, that’s quite a leap. But it’s the way Dugin’s mind works.
ISIS-K Suspects
Nor did Carlson ask Dugin about matters of current importance such as repression in Russia, imprisonment of journalists and others for speaking against the war in Ukraine, or the mass flight of Russians under threat of criminal prosecution on similarly specious charges. Again, he simply let Dugin talk — apparently in all seriousness — about the threat of a robot uprising, and the need to return to traditional values and collectivism:
“We have no other option. Either Matrix, or Artificial Intelligence, or something or ‘Terminator.’ . . . Putin is a traditional leader, . . . someone with a nuclear weapon [who] stands strong defending traditional values.” [Id.]
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