Read Online Words Will Break Cement by Masha Gessen - Free Book Online
Authors: Masha Gessen
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and Polozov did not enjoy the kind of social status an American might associate with this profession. The Russian court system, never a sterling example of justice, fairness, or competition, had regressed in the Putin years—and Volkova and Polozov were too young to remember anything else. With an acquittal rate of less than one percent and judges drawn largely from the courts’ secretarial pool, the courts had turned into an arena for technocratic bargaining at best and systematic bribery at worst. Volkova’s and Polozov’s more ambitious law school classmates had gone into corporate or tax law and had over time come to imitate the style of their City of London counterparts—and to make a lot more money than they did. Volkova and Polozov, on the other hand, wore polyester suits and held as low an opinion of their profession as anyone else did.
But it had occurred to Volkova that they could do something important, or at least something different. Another man she had followed on Twitter had posted about a protest planned for this evening. Volkova had never gone to a protest, or even seen one anywhere but on TV—and that had been the protests in Cairo; it had been years since anything of any magnitude had happened in Moscow. But for some reason she felt moved to Tweet a response to the virtual acquaintance who had posted about the protest. She said she would be willing to help if anyone got arrested. Someone suggested she take up a watch post somewhere near the protest site. She found a café with a good view out a second-floor window. She figured she would spend at least a couple of hours there straining to see anything in the wintery darkness outside. She messaged Polozov, suggesting he keep her company.
Whatever it was that brought Volkova and Polozov out that night had worked on thousands of other people as well. In a city where for years no protest had drawn more than a few hundred people—not pensioners coming out against drastic cuts in benefits, nor journalists coming out to mourn their slain colleague Anna Politkovskaya, nor the varied crowd who came out to protest the continued imprisonment of a pregnant woman who had worked for jailed oil tycoon Mikhail Khodorkovsky—suddenly, almost without warning, between seven thousand and ten thousand people took to the streets to protest yet another rigged election.
Nadya and Petya and Kat and many others had been waiting for this day for a long time. For Nadya and Petya, the waiting had commenced years earlier, when they dreamed that the Marches of the Disagreeable might lead to change. Kat had been waiting for four years—since the time she and Natasha were roughed up when they tried to take pictures at a polling station. Many Russians had been surprised and inspired in the summer of 2010, when scores of people led by a young woman named Yevgeniya Chirikova waged a battle to save the forest in Khimki, just outside Moscow, where a new toll road was to be built. Many others began waiting for Russian protests six months earlier, when they watched the Arab Spring explode in hope. And hundreds of thousands felt they could wait no longer when, on September 24, 2011, they watched Vladimir Putin and Dmitry Medvedev appear together to announce they had decided to swap seats again, with the former retaking the office of president and the latter becoming prime minister again, in a sham presidential election to be held in half a year’s time. They had announced this and blithely begun preparations for an equally bogus parliamentary election that was held on December 4. And on December 5, the people finally came out.
Nadya and Kat and some of their friends, old and new, had been preparing for this. They were ready. Sort of. Maybe. Almost.
----
I N THE COUPLE OF YEARS since Voina fizzled, they had occasionally tried to create actions. At one point Nadya and Kat asked Tasya Krugovykh, the filmmaker, to videotape them wrapping evidence tape around groups of trees; the imprint
But it had occurred to Volkova that they could do something important, or at least something different. Another man she had followed on Twitter had posted about a protest planned for this evening. Volkova had never gone to a protest, or even seen one anywhere but on TV—and that had been the protests in Cairo; it had been years since anything of any magnitude had happened in Moscow. But for some reason she felt moved to Tweet a response to the virtual acquaintance who had posted about the protest. She said she would be willing to help if anyone got arrested. Someone suggested she take up a watch post somewhere near the protest site. She found a café with a good view out a second-floor window. She figured she would spend at least a couple of hours there straining to see anything in the wintery darkness outside. She messaged Polozov, suggesting he keep her company.
Whatever it was that brought Volkova and Polozov out that night had worked on thousands of other people as well. In a city where for years no protest had drawn more than a few hundred people—not pensioners coming out against drastic cuts in benefits, nor journalists coming out to mourn their slain colleague Anna Politkovskaya, nor the varied crowd who came out to protest the continued imprisonment of a pregnant woman who had worked for jailed oil tycoon Mikhail Khodorkovsky—suddenly, almost without warning, between seven thousand and ten thousand people took to the streets to protest yet another rigged election.
Nadya and Petya and Kat and many others had been waiting for this day for a long time. For Nadya and Petya, the waiting had commenced years earlier, when they dreamed that the Marches of the Disagreeable might lead to change. Kat had been waiting for four years—since the time she and Natasha were roughed up when they tried to take pictures at a polling station. Many Russians had been surprised and inspired in the summer of 2010, when scores of people led by a young woman named Yevgeniya Chirikova waged a battle to save the forest in Khimki, just outside Moscow, where a new toll road was to be built. Many others began waiting for Russian protests six months earlier, when they watched the Arab Spring explode in hope. And hundreds of thousands felt they could wait no longer when, on September 24, 2011, they watched Vladimir Putin and Dmitry Medvedev appear together to announce they had decided to swap seats again, with the former retaking the office of president and the latter becoming prime minister again, in a sham presidential election to be held in half a year’s time. They had announced this and blithely begun preparations for an equally bogus parliamentary election that was held on December 4. And on December 5, the people finally came out.
Nadya and Kat and some of their friends, old and new, had been preparing for this. They were ready. Sort of. Maybe. Almost.
----
I N THE COUPLE OF YEARS since Voina fizzled, they had occasionally tried to create actions. At one point Nadya and Kat asked Tasya Krugovykh, the filmmaker, to videotape them wrapping evidence tape around groups of trees; the imprint
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