Category: Russia

“TV or it didn’t happen” – on Russia’s media landscape

I am currently back in Novosibirsk for a week-long exchange organized by djo, Sibirischer Bär and Jugendbund dealing with “freedom of media and the press”. Special thanks to Ira for the invitation!

Today was packed with talks on both main stream media and the blogosphere in Russia. While the country’s blogosphere is extremely huge – a count by yandex registers 12 million blogs – the internet is still of minor importance relative to Germany. This is also caused by the fact that only about 40% of the people have access to the net.

TV is still king in the information business. As Evgenij Mezdrikov quoted from a movie title, “if it was not on TV, it didn’t happen”. At the same time, online media outlets seem to lag behind in the adoption of new technology compared to Germany. According to Mezdrikov, allowing user comments and using multi media is still relatively new.

In fact, Russian journalism seems to be in a bad shape. Viktor Juketschev even announced to talk only about “the living parts” of the media landscape, i.e. the privately owned outlets. According to Mezdrikov, “media don’t produce facts”, but only distribute them. Investigate journalism is therefore hard to find.

One reason Mezdrikov gave is that the authorities in general act repellent towards journalistic requests, even though Russia’s freedom of information act is the only worldwide favoring media professionals over ordinary citizens. Officials are obligated to answer their requests within 7 days, while queue time for citizens is 30 days.

That was especially interesting for me because I recently attended a workshop on “Legal Leaks”, where we discussed the issue of privileges for journalists. There’s a very informative toolkit on using freedom of information requests in journalistic work.

Even though he highlighted their advantage of being eye witnesses, Mezdrikov agreed with me that citizen journalists cannot make up for professional investigative journalism. Viktor Juketschev later presented “Tak-tak-tak“, a “social network for civil rights” which aims to provide activists with a platform where to organize collaborative investigation and publication of issues of public interest. I am rather doubtful of its possible success, as activists lack both time and funding for bigger projects.

Elia Kabanov presented several cases of persecution of bloggers and journalists for their writing both on- and offline. Even though Russia has a bad reputation for press freedom due to a series of high profile murders of journalists, repression against bloggers is not as widespread as in other countries.

In some of the cases Kabanov spoke about, police intervention seems fungible, e.g. a fake amok threat. In general, sentences seemed quite harsh, even though prison sentences are rare. After all, local police seem to act independently, which means that there’s no national agenda for repression.

One reason for some of the arrests could be that “people think they can write everything”, as Kabanov said. In some people’s eyes, that includes threats, libel and publication of private data. Kabanov later talked very negatively about Russian blog comments, which he perceives as predominantly useless or even hateful, which could explain his argument.

On the other hand, there seem to be no examples of huge political campaigns driven by Russia’s blogosphere. I presented about Germany’s movement against internet filtering, which is sans analog in Russia. Blogs still need to bring issues to the attention of main stream media – especially TV – to make an impact, of which there are increasingly successful examples.

Or, as Elia Kabanov said, “100 years ago their was a saying, ‘the stone is the weapon of the proletariat’. Today, a blog is the best weapon of a free man.”

Good bye Novosibirsk

Every time you leave a hotel room to depart, at least for a short moment your awareness flashes up, asking if you didn’t forget anything. It wasn’t any different when I stepped onto the third floor of the Centralnaya in Novosibirsk. For a second I halted. I had glanced at my bedstand twice, anxiously making sure that I would not leave something behind, just as I do every time when I am going to go irreversibly.

That moment it came to my mind that I already knew what I would leave behind. While I could go back and check the carpet under my chair for a third time, probably finding some small belonging I had previously overseen in the dark, I could not take the people with me that had made my stay in Novosibirsk such a great time.

The thought of writing a blog post starting with a sentence like this, “This time I already knew what I would leave behind”, seemed kitschy to me. Yet it is what I thought, and it has made me ponder if it is indeed true.

While I am not going to see the people were so nice to me for a long time, yes, probably forever, today we stay connected. I have befriended a handful of them on Facebook, followed some on Twitter, exchanged IM numbers. The forum has ended, but the communication endures.

The people I met in Novosibirsk were some of the most friendly I have ever had the pleasure to make the acquaintance of. I want to thank you all for a great time: Our coordinators Masha (don’t worry about your English!) and Anna, who were not only super nice, but also incredibly well organized, Svetja, who never got tired to (only while) entertaining us, our unexpected German translator Nastja, our English translators and everybody else who was involved in managing Interra 09.

I, too, want to thank those people I had the pleasure to talk to and discuss with. You allowed me to gain an insight into Russian society and especially its blogosphere and education system, two spheres I would never have explored without your help.

I also owe the Goethe Institut in Novosibirsk a debt of gratitude. It paid for my stay in Siberia, making it possibly for me to meet all the great people named above. And finally, I want to thank Marco, for being a great companion and making incredibly good photos of our adventures.

You all made my time in Novosibirsk a very special experience. Thank you very much! And now, go get the sleep you all deserve ;-)

P.S. I realize this has become a pretty pathetical appraisal, but I just felt I had to give back at least some kind words to all those who were so friendly to me. Without this post, my travelogue would lack its true end. Because after all, it is true what Confucius has said: “Forget hurts, but never forget amicabilities.”

Vera Polozkova

“Vera Polozkova cares about aesthetics.”

This sentence instantly popped up in my head when I heard Vera speak during our debate on “Blogs and Education”. She argued with fervor for learning the unnecessary, defending its ability to induce the creation of something beautiful against all materialistic circumcisions of the education system.

Although she is a VIP in the Russian blogosphere and a print-published poetess, of all the discussants, Vera seemed the most humble. Her contributions came as interjections or short anecdotes, brought forward in a calm voice, bearing an aesthetic that stood, fragile, but impressive, against all cold-hearted materialism.

On my last evening in Novosibirsk, I got the opportunity to find another proof that “Vera Polozkova cares about aesthetics”. Again it was Svetja that opened an unexpected door for us – this time not only of her car, but also of a reading by Vera in a private flat.

These underground readings, we were told, meant practically the only way for young people to come together apart from state-controlled events during the communist era. In those days, the poems read were often highly political and critical of the society. Today, the tradition is still held up by students, even though a civil society has formed in Russia.

When we got to the flat on a higher floor of a giant, anonymous apartment building, we encountered a scenery like I have never seen one before and do not dare hoping to find in Germany one day. The living room was packed with students, only slightly older than myself, sitting on couches, chairs and the floor, calmly looking at Vera. Her voice was somewhere between lightly chatting and serious lecture as she was reading a poem, her mimics accompanying the story in an emotional manner, sometimes lightly open, sometimes austerely withdrawn, sometimes dreamily moony.

Anastasia would provide me with summaries of the poems’ content. “If I say it, it sounds stupid, but from her it’s amazing,” she would often tell me, obviously impressed trying to explain the greatness of an ordinary story recited in the right words.

What’s a poetry evening if you don’t understand the poetry, you might ask. And all I can answer is: It’s impressive. There was the atmosphere in this room, ascending from the feeling of all the students to experience something great, something worthy. Something the value of which can only be measured in poetry itself. And there was Vera herself, sitting on a couch, reading from a notebook or even an iPhone, a guru amidst her believers, who for a moment had the air of a higher aesthetic. An aesthetic that is not just words, but rhymes and sounds and mimics, an aesthetic that is universal.