|
English Language Page Alexander Mnatsakanyan, free-lance journalist Half a year ago, I could not have imagined even in my wildest dreams that I, a journalist, would be serving the interests of a politician eager to become president of Chechnya. However, my Chechen friends talked me into having a meeting with Mr. Candidate, even if only out of curiosity. He, in his turn, turned out to be a nice person and behaved quite adequately. When he offered me cooperation I mentioned something about the ethics of journalism. The candidate looked at me gravely and said, “Do you like Kadyrov so much? I know you don’t. You don’t care about Chechens, including those in the guerilla formations? I don’t think so. Do you want peace? I’m sure you do. Then why don’t you use your chance?” The Candidate also gave me his word that should I sense an unfair play, I would be free to quit working in his campaign HQ. By the way, he kept his word. Throughout the whole campaign there wasn’t a single occasion when I had the slightest reason to suspect the Candidate of cheating. * * * Chechnya. The HQ are making preparations for defense. In a joint effort, the HQ staff and security personnel are filling sacks with sand and then piling them up to build parapet structures, never forgetting to leave out portholes. The next day, a truck full of concrete blocks arrives and they put up something resembling a check-point at the entrance to the building. In the backyard of the building, I can see a group of elderly people who are quietly discussing a seemingly very important question. Noticing a bright-colored rucksack on my back and thus immediately guessing a stranger, a gray-haired bony man leaves the group and approaches me asking surreptitiously, “Are you from Moscow? So, what do you think?”Later on this same man, being a very nice person as such, becomes my daily nightmare. Every day he would come up to me sometimes several times a day and would ask me the same question. He would speak under his breath, apparently showing off in front of his buddies and trying to display that he was privy to the secrets far beyond their competence. He would never listen for what I had to say in reply but would consistently waste up to half an hour of my time every day by telling me the news (as a rule, two-weeks old) or by sharing with me his ideas (as a rule, quite logical but awfully boring). * * * It’s my third day here and I still don’t have a clue as to what my responsibilities are. The person, who is officially my boss, is an old friend of mine, a well-known person in Chechnya, who has worked with practically all pro-Russian forces in the republic. However, he has not showed up at the office even once. Everybody is waiting for the Candidate to come and assign everyone his task. The reason for the impasse is that there are at least two groups in the HQ which are hostile to each other and which would not tolerate the other group taking the upper hand. Moreover the HQ seems to pursue at least two strategies. One amounts to not doing anything at all because the final choice would be made in the Kremlin anyway and it’s not possible to jump over your head. The other strategy stems from the need to do at least something because the final choice would be made in the Kremlin but we can’t just sit on our hands. The biggest secret is our plan of action for the election day. But it looks like it’s an open secret since everyone is bragging about how much he knows. On the fourth day, I learn that the Candidate has hired a cool and very expensive Moscow-based PR-group. They are not coming out to Chechnya because the final choice would be made in the Kremlin anyway. * * * I’m getting on friendly terms with the most advanced people in the HQ. These people have worked in Russia for a long time, they are reasonably well educated, they have elaborated a plan of action, but they are tied up because the campaign funds are in the hands of an adversary group of campaigners. We sleep over at the HQ because of à) security, b) communications, c) electricity, water and gas, d)it would be too costly to rent other facilities. I play a spy, visiting various pro-Kadyrov events. Leaving them I always feel that I should ask for a raise for working in a hazardous environment. * * * One week later, I almost lose my sane mind and head off for Moscow to brief the cool PR-guys about what’s going on in Chechnya. Upon my arrival I’m subjected to the third degree type of an interrogation because nobody even thought about notifying the Moscow office that I was coming and that I’m working for the Candidate’s campaign in the first place. Having had them establish my identity (10 minutes on the phone), I give them a briefing on the political situation. In the meantime, my new friends are feverishly trying to make me tell them how much I’m paid. After they realize that it’s way less than what they charge, they relax and become very nice. They have to work almost in secret, because they have not informed their PR-agencies that they were hired by the Candidate. I already know many of them by name so once I’m at home I get on the web and soon find out everything I need to know about their places of permanent employment. * * * The Candidate whose whereabouts have remained unknown for a long time turns up in Moscow. He calls a staff meeting and we are told that the elections will be held in a month but we have neither the strategy nor the tactics. It also becomes apparent that there is a serious friction between the Moscow and the Chechnya teams as to who shall be in charge of the game. Finally, we agree that the campaign strategy will be developed in Moscow, while tactical decisions will be taken in Chechnya. My responsibility is to write summaries of the Chechen mass media publications twice a week and forward them to Moscow. I’m begging the Candidate to give me an assistant in Chechnya who would in my absence collate the newspapers. * * * Upon my return to Chechnya, I find out that the group I was getting friendly with has been defeated and expelled from the HQ. Nobody intends to be accountable to Moscow because arguably “they have no understanding of what’s going on down here.” It’ s hard to disagree, because one of the ideas of the top-level PR-guys was to hold primaries in Chechnya. On the other hand, it’s also hard to agree because the winning Chechen group comes forth with the idea to forget about the law all-together and to hand out posters with the Candidate’s picture that haven’t been paid for from the Candidate’s campaign fund. My attempts to explain that it may be disastrous for the Candidate are countered by an airtight and unquestionable argument that it doesn’t matter because “the final choice would be made in the Kremlin anyway.” One of the staff brings for our review a videotape with a campaign spot of our candidate. The Candidate looks good and cool. Everybody is excited. Then, the same staff person says that he is going to take the tape to the TV station to be broadcast immediately. With great difficulty I mange to convince him that if he does so, the Candidate would not only be removed from the race but would also be immediately jailed for it. * * * We have new security guards. The previous intelligent and reserved guys gave been replaced by apparently haphazard people. It’s not that they are inferior in any way; they simply have a different attitude. Their main enjoyment is to show off with an automatic rifle. One of the guards is an oversized kid. Having seen the ‘Shrek’ animation, he was under the impression of it for several days on end. Another one was so swayed by a movie about werewolves that he went out at night and started shooting stray dogs in the street. The third one was persistently trying to find out the difference between fax, copier and scanner. There are two more fellows with an obviously criminal background and manners. At the same time, the absolute majority of them are from urban localities rather than from rural areas. It’s hard not to pity them. They are 20–25 years old. Half of their life coincided with the war. The most incredible thing about them is an almost total absence of life experience. One of them told me, a total stranger from Russia, that he had been trained with Hattab. Sounds like he is telling the truth. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to report you?” I ask and get in reply. “No, you won’t — you are a good man!” * * * The Candidate finally arrives. He is immediately surrounded by a crowd of people who want to get access to his ear to secure for themselves money and positions in the future. The Candidate delivers a speech. He promises that everything shall be fine. At the same time, we learn from the audience that the Candidate’s representatives in the districts face a lot of problems. However, none of them has contacted the main HQ hoping that they would cope with the problems on their own. I get an assignment from the Candidate through my immediate superior (who has materialized at last!) to collect all such stories and turn them into print articles. It’s hard to accomplish the task since no one of those who have had problems is willing to identify himself. Their arguments sound very convincing, “I have a family to think of!” * * * The Candidate starts having problems with the Kremlin. The problems are quite serious, which means that we are bound to loose the election. The only remaining question is whether we shall give up on fair conditions, or we will be simply withdrawn from the race. The female staff are in tears. The male staff are mad with frustration. A couple of people have a heart attack or develop an acute gastritis. I feel again ashamed for the country where I have had the luck to be born. Only two or three most reasonable people manage to remain calm, at least on the surface. On the third day of our ordeal we get a command to stay in place and not to leave because everything may still change. The final choice will be made in the Kremlin anyway. * * * My journalist colleagues from Moscow start arriving in Chechnya. While making their round of different candidates’ HQs, they suddenly run into me. I learn from them the details about our competitors. At one place, the campaign staff don’t even know the whereabouts of their candidate, at another place they are not aware of the statements made by their boss. That sounds comforting. We also get most of the information post factum but try to put on an appearance that we know everything. At the very start of our work, the Candidate recorded a couple of hours of interviews on various topics. We can now cut and paste those materials and make and public in any suitable way. * * * We have two weeks to go till the election day. All local TV stations present the impressive face of Mr. Akhmat-Hadji. The whole republic has been covered by his portraits. A youth movement pops up called “For a Clean City.” The boys are instructed to paint over all campaign slogans not praising Mr. Kadyrov. After the tea party in Sochi with Mr. Putin no one has any doubts as to the choice of the Kremlin. Chechnya is brooding in anticipation of the property loss compensations to be available only against a considerable kickback. Against that background, our PR activities (or anyone else’s for that matter) fail to catch any attention. The election is as good as lost. However, the Candidate has no intention to formally give up the fight. We’ve been roaming around the office, jokingly planning a retreat march into the mountains. * * * The contenders for the Chechen crown drop out one after another. A couple of them have withdrawn their names from the slate; one was deprived of his registration by a court order. Some of the candidates chose to make peace with the Kremlin. Our Candidate is also in the group of the dropouts. It hurts but there’s nothing one can do about it. It was clear from the very beginning that the final choice would be made in the Kremlin anyway. The HQ wraps up its activities. I’m very sorry for the guards who, as I suspect, would be oppressed by Kadyrov’s supporters for having worked for an opponent. The guards also seem to be edgy. They believe the office will be attacked any minute now. At the same time, they almost earnestly discuss who shall take home what from the office equipment “so it won’t get damaged in the upcoming attack.” * * * We are leaving. We take photos for keepsakes. In any case, we can still hope that Mr. Akhmat-Hadji won’t last for long. So, till the next time when the final choice will be made in the Kremlin anyway. But that time without me, if you please. I quit. Back |
Íàøà êíîïêà  |
|