Subscriptions, Subversion and Subject Lines: Reading the Russian
The Russian language has never been apolitical. It is a language imbued with the past - in the West, many who grew up during the Cold War associate it with the spy films that were a part of their childhood, the language of patriotic posters or of threatening declarations. Even the history of its alphabet has shaped international relations: Bulgaria and North Macedonia both lay claim to origins of the Cyrillic Script, and Russia has tried to use this as a tool to drive a wedge between Skopje and Sofia. The power of language has, however, been brought into stark relief in recent months. Many are aware of the terrors of the Russian invasion of parts of Ukraine, but this is the first stage of what will likely be a long process. In the regions that Russia has occupied, and managed to hold onto, a campaign of Russification has begun. To truly “annexe” the regions, Putin will need more than overt violence, managed referendums, ceremonies, and presidential decrees. Throughout the occupied territories, the Ukrainian language is being erased in favour of Russian - on street signs and in the schooling system. The Russian language is being used as a tool of colonialism, a show of power and domination.
As far as language can be a site of subjugation, however, it can also be a site of subversion. Russian is not just Putin’s tool. Not only is it spoken by millions of Russian citizens who have had no say on Putin’s war, but it is also a language spoken by millions of Russians and non-Russians living outside the borders of the Russian Federation; the language is spoken by 258 million people worldwide. The Russian language not only can be, but must be, a site of resistance. This will not be easy-- the gradual erosion of press freedom and freedom of speech within Russia, begun long before 2022, has sped up in recent months. A law signed in March 2022 now allows the Kremlin to supress and convict journalists who publish any material which goes against its narrative about the Ukrainian “special operation”. Social media is constantly blocked and unblocked, and protests are being crushed by force. Putin is trying to supress freedom of speech and limiting the flow of information both within Russia and from outside, preventing the spread of perspectives which could challenge his narrative.
How, then, to challenge the narrative? How can we speak truth to power? Often, it can be in the most benign of ways. As a student of Russian, when I started my degree two years ago, I subscribed to several Russian language email newsletters to gain some extra vocabulary and immersion in the language. In recent months, I’ve watched these go from an interesting read to the last bastions of free speech. Both foreign outlets (such as the BBC) and independent domestic outlets (such as the Moscow Times) have been blocked by the Russian government, and journalists have been labelled “foreign agents”. They now report from Tbilisi or Istanbul. But their emails still find their way into Russia; Putin cannot control these. Without shutting down entire email systems (which, as many have experienced, can bring life to a halt), these emails will still find their way into the inboxes of Russian speakers. They are no longer just a convenient way to get a roundup of the news, and the writers of these emails are aware of this fact. The BBC Foreign Service newsletter no longer links to its webpage. Hyperlinks now go to PDFs, more easily accessible behind the new, digital iron curtain. The Moscow Times no longer just welcomes its readers, it tells them how to use a VPN.
These are what a truly free Russian press could look like. Despite now coming from outside Russia, they are written by Russian speakers and are sensitive to their experiences. The Western coverage of Gorbachev’s death, for example, was filled with praise for his ending the Cold War. In the Russian state-controlled media, he was lambasted as humiliating their state. But the newsletters gave balance. Yes, he gave them newspapers, and one journalist remembered the queues for the newly free information, but he also gave them queues for bread. Russia’s history is not so black and white. The English and Russian language newsletters from the Moscow Times come into my inbox at the same time every week. The English headlines focus on Putin’s actions, pockets of Russian resistance and horrifying stories from Ukraine. The Russian is for Russians- how the war will affect their lives, what they can do in the face of this increasingly totalitarian regime, and, after Putin’s September mobilisation order, advising citizens of the best ways to escape draft orders.
On 21st September 2022, I received another newsletter. One I’d forgotten I’d subscribed to; it had gone quiet, after urging its subscribers to subscribe to its Telegram in February. But in the week of Putin’s “partial” mobilisation, the annexation of four occupied territories and more stories about Russian oppression, Russia Today emailed me. I knew it was propagandistic when I subscribed all those years ago, but the absence of news was telling. Stories about “The History of Vegetarianism in Russia”, a photo collection of “sausage rolls from around Russia” and answers to the 10 most common questions about Russian history. I opened none of them. Russia Today is state media, and even these seemingly benign cultural stories have a certain propagandistic value. And all the while, thousands die in Ukraine. There is no universal experience, and there are two sides to every power struggle. There is, however, only one truth. We must support those who want to tell the truth to power and to the people in Russia. Narratives, and the Russian language, must become a tool for peace.
Image courtesy of А. Кузьмин via Wikimedia, ©2020, some rights reserved.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of the wider St. Andrews Foreign Affairs Review team.
