HOW UNFREE IS RUSSIA’S PRESS
[pic] RUSSIA WATCH [pic]
Analysis and Commentary
No. 6, June 2001
RUSSIA’S EMBATTLED MEDIA
In January President Putin invited two dozen of his country’s top journalists to the Kremlin. Paraphrasing Mark Twain, he assured them: “rumors of the death of free press in Russia are greatly exaggerated.”
President Putin has a point. Chechnya aside, cases of outright censorship are few, and the state tolerates criticism that would have been unthinkable ten years ago. Compared to the Soviet Union even at its most liberal during Mikhail Gorbachev’s glasnost policy, the number and variety of publications, radio stations, and television channels available today in Moscow and in the regions is startling. Opinions, allegations, and indeed what in the U.S. would constitute libel, proliferate in Russia—offering an array of information as diverse as that available in any Western European country.
But since Putin took office, the country’s biggest and most influential media outlets have been under pressure. As the Putin government has defined its priorities (which do not include support for bases of power independent of the government), the prospects for true media independence have diminished.
The most dramatic example of this trend can be seen in Russian television. At the beginning of President Putin’s term there were four TV stations with a broadcasting range of over half the Russian viewing population: ORT, RTR, NTV, and TV-6. Though majority-owned by the state, ORT (which reaches 99 percent of viewers) was controlled by the now exiled oligarch Boris Berezovsky, who was close to
“Rumors of the death of free press in Russia are greatly
exaggerated.”—President Putin
Yeltsin’s administration and backed pro-Kremlin candidates in the 1999 parliamentary and 2000 presidential elections. RTR (which reaches 95 percent of Russian viewers) is owned by the state and controlled by the Ministry of Press. Though generally a mouthpiece for government policy, it has offered occasional glimpses of professionalism, as in its coverage of the 1994-1996 war in Chechnya. NTV (which reaches 72 percent of viewers) reflected the views of its owner, media magnate and banker Vladimir Gusinsky, who used the channel to campaign against Putin in the parliamentary and presidential elections. Nonetheless, NTV earned a reputation as the highest quality television news network with critical reporting and professional programming. TV-6 (which reaches 58 percent of viewers) was also owned by Berezovsky, but never attracted a large audience.
Of the four networks, only TV-6 remains independent from state control today. In the past year, Berezovsky has sold his stake in ORT to Kremlin-friendly shareholders, claiming the government forced him to do so or risk prosecution. Natural gas behemoth Gazprom (in which the government owns 38 percent of shares) has wrestled control of NTV away from Gusinsky. The new General Director of NTV, Boris Jordan, insists he will maintain editorial independence from government minders. (Continued on p. 4.)
IN THIS ISSUE:
Alfred Kokh
General Director, Gazprom-Media
Gusinsky Made Freedom a Bad Word, p. 19
*
Masha Lipman
Former Deputy Editor, Itogi magazine
The Demise of Gusinsky’s Media Empire, p. 20
*
Sergei Markov
Director, Institute for Political Studies, Moscow
Russian Media in a Revolutionary Period, p. 22
*
Manana Aslamazyan
Director, Internews Russia
Systemic Crisis in the Russian Media, p. 15
*
Emil Pain
Former Adviser to President Yeltsin
How Russia Reported the NTV Affair, p. 25
*
Chrystia Freeland
Deputy Editor, The Globe & Mail
The Origin of Gusinsky’s Media Empire, p. 16
*
Ivan Zassoursky
Department of Journalism, Moscow State University
‘Great Russia’ and the Internet, p. 28
Russia Watch No. 6, June 2001
Table of Contents
Russia’s Embattled Media, p. 1
Top News, p. 2
What the Polls say, p. 3
The Siege of NTV, p. 5
Media and Business, p. 7
Free Press and Democracy, p. 9
Media and Public Opinion, p. 10
Media and the Law, p. 11
Journalistic Professionalism and Ethics, p. 12
Media Independence in Comparison, p. 13
Assisting Russia’s Media, p. 13
Manana Aslamazyan: Systemic Crisis in the Russian Media, p. 15
Chrystia Freeland: The Origin of Gusinsky’s Media Empire, p. 16
Alfred Kokh: Gusinsky Made Freedom a Bad Word, p. 19
Masha Lipman: The Demise of Gusinsky’s Media Empire, p. 20
Sergei Markov: Russian Media in a Revolutionary Period, p. 22
Emil Pain: How Russia Reported the NTV Affair, p. 25
Ivan Zassoursky: ‘Great Russia’ and the Internet, p. 28
TOP NEWS
—by David Rekhviashvili
Gazprom Chief Replaced
The board of directors of Gazprom, Russia’s gas monopoly, replaced Rem Vyakhirev, the company's old Soviet style executive who allegedly has been engaged in insider deals, with Deputy Energy Minister Alexei Miller, a close ally of Vladimir Putin. Mr. Vyakhirev was named chairman of Gazprom, a much-reduced role. Immediately after this reshuffle, the value of Gazprom’s shares on Russian capital market rose by 7 percent.
Electricity Monopoly Reform Plan Adopted
The Russian government has adopted the main provisions of a plan to restructure the country's electric power industry. The plan splits the electricity monopoly, Unified Energy Systems (UES), into competing generation and supply companies while creating a state-owned network company to operate the national power grid. The whole reform is expected to take from eight to ten years. The goal of the program is to gradually create a market for electric power and to increase opportunities for large-scale investments in the electricity industry.
The plan to reform UES has become an object of discord between powerful political and business interest groups. The restructuring plan approved after months of haggling and lobbying marked a victory of UES chief executive Anatoly Chubais and the team of young reformers headed by Economic Minister German Gref, but angered the coalition of regional governors, oil barons, and influential politicians within the Presidential Administration, including the President’s economic adviser, Andrei Illarionov. President Putin has defined the restructuring of Russia’s big monopolies—electricity, gas and railways—as a top priority of his economic reform program.
Judicial Reform Package Introduced
President Putin gave a go-ahead to a radical reform of the judiciary by introducing into the Duma the first four of a package of eleven reform bills. The bills transfer the right to issue arrest and search warrants from the prosecutor’s office to the courts, introduce a jury system to all regions of Russia (today only a handful of regions conduct jury trials), and expand the list of criminal cases to be considered by juries.
The Kremlin had introduced the same set of bills into the Duma in January 2001, but later recalled them unexpectedly, providing no official explanation. According to most commentators, the recall was due to strong opposition of the police and security structures, with the General Prosecutor’s office leading the charge. This time, President Putin has invested more effort in supporting the judicial reform package and it is expected that it will encounter no major difficulties in the Duma.
Putin Makes First Cabinet Reshuffle
A year almost to the day after his election as President of Russia, Vladimir Putin made his first big ministerial reshuffle. President Putin replaced Defense Minister Igor Sergeev, Interior Minister Vladimir Rushailo and the head of the Federal Tax Police Service Vyacheslav Soltaganov with his loyalists Secretary of the Security Council Sergei Ivanov, the head of the Unity faction in the Duma Boris Gryzlov and the First Deputy Secretary of the Security Council Mikhail Fradkov, respectively.
In making these changes in the government Putin established full control over the power-wielding ministries: the main power ministries are now headed by members of the so-called “St. Petersburg team,” who are personally faithful to Putin. Putin appears to have come up with a new system for appointing key cabinet ministers: instead of appointing lobbyist-minister, so-called “professionals” (officials with an extensive background working for these ministries), for the first time in recent Russian practice “political” ministers have been appointed. Some observers note that political appointees from the outside are not enmeshed in intra-departmental lobbying and thus are potentially capable of implementing intended reforms in the security agencies.
Liberal Economic Reform Plan Launched
The government introduced to the Duma a package of 26 priority bills aimed at launching a radical reform of the Russian economy; 15 of them are due to be considered by the Duma during the spring session—now extended through the middle of July; the remaining eleven will be considered in the fall.
The reform legislation is divided into three blocks: taxation, structural reforms and social policy. As for taxation changes, the Duma will consider bills on corporate profit tax law, tax payments for the use of natural resources, excise payments, and further reduction of the social tax rate. Among the bills aimed at economic restructuring, there is a package on debureaucratization and deregulation of the economy, bills on the privatization of state and municipal property, the Customs Code, and bills aimed at adjusting Russian legislation to World Trade Organization (WTO) standards. Changes in social policy will include reform of the pension system and a new Labor Code. The Duma has already adopted legislation reforming the banking sector and liberalizing currency transactions, passed a law on production-sharing agreements (PSAs), and ratified an international convention on combating money laundering.
Also, despite strong resistance from communist factions, the Duma passed a liberal Land Code in the first reading. For the first time in contemporary Russian history, this Code permits sales of land, with some significant restrictions regarding agricultural land. The law removes one of the most serious barriers to foreign investments: now investors can buy not only real estate, but also the land under it.
New Law on Political Parties Passed
The State Duma has passed a presidential bill on political parties in the second reading. It now awaits a third reading and approval by the upper house of parliament. The law exposes political parties to bureaucratic control and sets legal requirements that will lead to a considerable reduction in the number of parties able to participate in federal elections.
According to the bill, only political groups with a minimum of 10,000 registered members and with 45 regional organizations—each having at least 100 employees—can be qualified as federal political parties with the right to participate in Russian parliamentary elections. Only a handful of organizations currently meets these requirements.
The law also entitles political parties to state funding if they get no less than 3 percent of the vote in parliamentary elections and legalizes private donations to party budgets.
Union of Right Forces Holds Congress
The Union of Right Forces held a Congress, at which all nine founding member organizations of the Union merged into a unified liberal party based on individual membership. Boris Nemtsov was elected Chairman of the Political Council of the new party. Anatoly Chubais, Yegor Gaidar, Sergei Kirienko, Irina Khakamada and Boris Nemtsov were elected Co-Chairmen of the party.
The creation of a Union of Right Forces political party consolidated liberal reformers who are oriented toward maintaining dialogue with the President and his cabinet on issues related to economic reform, while remaining critical of the authorities’ policies on democracy and human rights.
What the Polls Say
Approval Ratings of Russian President, Prime Minister, Government, and Regional Leaders, June 2000-May 2001 (percent)
Approve:
| |June 2000 |July |Aug. |Sept. |Nov. |
|1999 |$759 million |$97 million |$583 million |$41 million |$37 million |
|2001* |$1.5 billion |$160 million |$1.2 billion |$64 million |$64 million |
|2003* |$2.2 billion |$210 million |$1.8 billion |$81 million |$86 million |
Zenith Media, Ltd., published in The Myers International Media Report, April 11, 2001
*Projected
Table 2: Accessibility of Leading Television Networks in Russia (% population)
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From Sredsvta massovoi informatsii Rossii, published in Nordenstreng, Vartanova and Zassoursky, eds., Russian Media Challenge, 2001.
Table 3: Preferred TV Channels, All Russia December 1999
(percent audience share)
|ORT |41 |
|NTV |25 |
|RTR |13 |
|TV-6 |4 |
|Others |11 |
|No Opinion |6 |
From Sredsvta massovoi informatsii Rossii, published in Nordenstreng, Vartanova and Zassoursky, eds., Russian Media Challenge, 2001.
Table 4: Preferred TV Channels for News and Information, Moscow Residents, April 2001
|NTV |38% |
|ORT |15% |
|RTR |10% |
|TV-Center |3% |
|Other (including TV-6) |2% |
|All equally |25% |
|I don’t watch news |6% |
|I don’t know |1% |
All-Russian Center for the Study of Public Opinion, poll of 500 Moscow residents, April 7-8, 2001
What TV channel do you prefer to watch for news and information?
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All-Russian Center for the Study of Public Opinion, poll of 500 Moscow residents, April 7-8, 2001
Table 5: Share of Advertising Revenue among Leading TV Networks
Q1, 2000
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Table 6: Most Popular Newspapers
(Percentage of respondents who read regularly)
| |1994 |1995 |1996 |1997 |1998 |1999 |2000 |
|Argumenty i Fakty |19 |16 |20 |25 |24 |20 |21 |
|Izvestia |3 |3 |3 |5 |2 |2 |2 |
|Kommersant |2 |1 |1 |1 |1 |1 |1 |
|Komsomolskaya Pravda |9 |9 |11 |14 |16 |12 |12 |
|Pravda |1 |1 |1 |2 |1 |1 |1 |
|Rossiiskaya Gazeta |3 |2 |3 |4 |2 |2 |1 |
|Sovershenno Sekretno |- |- |- |7 |7 |6 |9 |
|Sovetskaya Rossiia |1 |1 |2 |2 |1 |2 |1 |
|SPID-Info |- |- |- |20 |18 |14 |15 |
|Sport-Express |- |- |- |2 |3 |2 |2 |
|Trud |5 |4 |6 |5 |4 |3 |4 |
|Local Dailies |- |- |- |20 |21 |12 |14 |
|Local Weeklies |- |- |- |22 |33 |24 |20 |
|Local Entertainment, |- |- |- |17 |18 |16 |19 |
|Advertising Newspapers | | | | | | | |
|I don’t read newspapers |28 |40 |39 |27 |29 |31 |30 |
Source: All-Russian Center for the Study of Public Opinion (VTsIOM) data.
FREE PRESS AND DEMOCRACY
The First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution guarantees that “Congress shall make no law… abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press….” It does not specify how citizens, groups, or businesses will create enterprises to inform the American public. Nor does it guarantee quality of the press.
The ‘public interest’ role that media play is not always profitable, as recent American experience shows. In the United States, commercialization brings concern that serious and in-depth reporting of government, public policy issues and international affairs has been increasingly displaced by ‘infotainment,’ with more and more human-interest stories about popular celebrities, consumer affairs, and scandal. CBS News anchor Dan Rather has lamented this trend in American news reporting: “They’ve got us putting more fuzz and wuzz on the air, cop-shop stuff, so as to compete not with other news programs, but with entertainment programs (including those posing as news programs) for dead bodies, mayhem, and lurid tales…. We have gone so far down the infotainment trail that we’ll be a long time getting back to where we started—if ever.”
The ‘free press’ that thrived in the early Yeltsin years (as exemplified by aggressive, critical journalism during the 1994-1996 Chechen war) meant mostly government permissiveness: despite instances of favoritism, the Yeltsin government placed few restrictions on what journalists could say or print. Despite its public statements in support of a free press, the Putin government has placed greater emphasis on the responsibility of journalists—meaning accountability to the authorities (and a duty to their country—meaning to the state). As universal values such as civil liberties and human rights have been overtaken by patriotic values and public demands for ‘law and order,’ journalists have found themselves increasingly constrained by the need to appear supportive of their government. –Ben Dunlap
Guarantees of Press Freedoms
U.N. Declaration of Human Rights
Article 19
Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive, and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.
Russian Constitution
Section 1, Chapter 2
Article 29
1. Everyone shall have the right to freedom of thought and speech.
2. Propaganda or campaigning inciting social, racial, national or religious hatred and strife is impermissible. The propaganda of social, racial, national, religious, or language superiority is forbidden.
3. No one may be coerced into expressing one’s views and convictions or into renouncing them.
4. Everyone shall have the right to seek, get, transfer, produce and disseminate information by any lawful means. A list of information constituting state secrets shall be established by federal law.
5. The freedom of mass media shall be guaranteed. Censorship shall be prohibited.
President Putin on Freedom of Press:
“As to the right to express one’s opinion, freedom of press and so on, this, of course must be ensured. But this can be ensured only if one condition is observed—the creation of economic conditions acceptable for the freedom of press, equal starting conditions for all.” April 10, 2001
“A free press is the most important guarantor of the irreversibility of our country’s democratic course.” June 12, 2001
“I am very confident that without a free media, we cannot have a normal democratic society.” June 18, 2001
President Putin on Democracy:
“Authoritarianism means disregard for laws. Democracy means fulfillment of laws. If we abide by a law that was legitimately adopted by a body of government—everything will be in order with democracy in our country. If we do not, then the law is replaced by willful decisions of concrete people. This is bad, this means authoritarianism.” December 26, 2000
MEDIA AND PUBLIC OPINION
How would you feel if shares of NTV were sold to foreigners (Ted Turner, George Soros, or the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development)?
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All-Russian Center for the Study of Public Opinion, poll of 1600, February 1-3, 2001
Are you concerned by attempts of state structures to establish control over the activities of NTV?
|Very concerned/somewhat concerned |36% |
|Not at all concerned |44% |
|I do not think the state is trying to establish control over NTV |13% |
|I don’t know |7% |
All-Russian Center for the Study of Public Opinion, poll of 1600, March 24-27, 2001
Some people think that the Russian authorities are attacking the media and infringing upon freedom of speech; others think that the authorities are not at all threatening independent media or infringing upon free speech. Which of these views do you consider correct?
|The authorities are attacking the media and infringing upon freedom of |43% |
|speech | |
|The authorities are not threatening independent media or infringing upon |41% |
|free speech | |
|I don’t know |16% |
All-Russian Center for the Study of Public Opinion, poll of 500 Moscow residents, April 7-8, 2001
To what extent do you trust the news and analytical programs on the following channels?
| |ORT |RTR |NTV |
|Completely trust/mostly trust |62% |65% |73% |
|Mostly do not trust/do not trust at all |32% |28% |20% |
|I don’t know |6% |7% |7% |
All-Russian Center for the Study of Public Opinion, poll of 500 Moscow residents, April 7-8, 2001
Who, in your view, is the main initiator of the scandal surrounding NTV?
|Gusinsky |25% |
|Kiselev |11% |
|Kokh, Jordan |10% |
|Putin and his team |9% |
|I don’t know |45% |
Vladimir Gusinsky is the owner of a 46.9% stake in NTV; Evgeny Kiselev was, until April 3, 2001, General Director of NTV; Alfred Kokh is General Director of Gazprom-Media, the branch of Gazprom that owns 46% of NTV and voted Gusinsky and Kiselev off the board of directors on April 3; Boris Jordan is the new General Director of NTV elected on April 3.
All-Russian Center for the Study of Public Opinion, poll of 1600, April 20-23, 2001
What, in your view, was the main cause of the scandal surrounding NTV?
|Division of property, financial problems |46% |
|Disproportional ambitions of Kiselev and his supporters |11% |
|Efforts by the authorities to rid themselves of criticism from the |20% |
|channel | |
|I don’t know |23% |
All-Russian Center for the Study of Public Opinion, poll of 1600, April 20-23, 2001
If Kiselev and his team go to work for TV-6, will you watch news and analytical programs on TV-6?
|Yes, regularly |11% |
|From time to time |23% |
|Rarely |12% |
|Practically never |8% |
|I do not have the opportunity to watch TV-6 |41% |
|I don’t know |6% |
All-Russian Center for the Study of Public Opinion, poll of 1600, April 20-23, 2001
MEDIA AND THE LAW
The 1991 Law on Mass Media (with subsequent amendments) is relatively liberal and provides journalists with legal protections of the press freedoms enshrined in the Constitution. In contrast, lack of specific legislation on television and radio broadcasting places broad powers in the hands of the Press Ministry, and Press Minister Mikhail Lesin personally, to decide the fate of media outlets through administrative measures, such as the licensing process for television and radio stations.
In a recent development, Russian lawmakers have moved to limit foreign ownership of Russian media, apparently in response to news that Ted Turner and George Soros were pursuing a 30 percent stake in NTV. The new law, which restricts foreign ownership of nationally broadcasting TV stations (those reaching more than half of Russia’s 89 regions) to less than 50 percent, has been passed in its second reading by the Duma. The TV stations affected include ORT, RTR, NTV, TV-6, and TNT. President Putin has said he does not think foreigners should own majority stakes in Russian media companies, but opposes legal limits on foreign ownership.
Supporters of the new law cite the 1933 U.S. federal law barring foreign citizens from owning more than 25 percent in American broadcasting companies. —Ben Dunlap
JOURNALISTIC PROFESSIONALISM AND ETHICS
In 1992, when SDI held its first conference in Moscow on the free press and journalistic professionalism and ethics, Russian participants identified key problems facing practitioners of their profession, including: severe economic difficulties and the temptation to sacrifice journalistic impartiality for financial gain; infighting among rival media organizations; and lack of respect for the law.
Unfortunately, many of the same problems exist today. American photojournalist Edward Opp, currently chief of photography at the Russian daily Kommersant, acknowledged in a recent Harvard seminar that there are “completely different professional and ethical standards” for Western and Russian journalists. Some media watchdog groups hope that joint ventures with Western news organizations, such as the Wall Street Journal-Financial Times partnership with the Russian weekly Vedomosti, or U.S. News & World Report’s partnership with Versiya will help raise professional standards among Russian journalists. Others are less sanguine about journalists learning from each other. Opp notes that, although he holds himself to the highest journalistic standards he learned in the West, he is powerless to change the system around him.
—Ben Dunlap
Rating Russia’s Press Freedoms
Freedom House ()
Press Freedom Survey 2001
Rating: 60; Partly Free (free: 0-30; partly free: 31-60; not free: 61-100)
“Independent media in Russia faced an onslaught of harassment, including prosecution, threats, and physical assaults, particularly for reporting on corruption or the war in Chechnya.”
Laws that influence Political pressure on Economic influence on Repressive actions (0-5)
Media content (0-15) media content (0-15) media content (0-15)
Broadcast 7 10 8 5
Print 7 8 10 5
(The lower the number, the more free the media.)
Committee to Protect Journalists ()
Attacks on the Press in 2000
“The ascendancy of President Vladimir Putin brought an alarming assault on press freedom in Russia last year. Under the new president, the Kremlin imposed censorship in Chechnya, orchestrated legal cases against powerful media barons, and granted sweeping powers of surveillance to the security services.”
‘Ten Worst Enemies of the Press, 2001’
The Committee to Protect Journalists named Russian President Vladimir Putin one of the ‘Ten Worst Enemies of the Press for 2001,’ citing Putin’s offenses against press freedoms. The other nine ‘Worst Enemies of the Press’ include: Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Supreme Leader of the Islamic Republic of Iran; Charles Taylor, President of Liberia; Jiang Zemin, President of The People’s Republic of China; Robert Mugabe, President of Zimbabwe; Carlos Castaño, Leader of The United Self Defense Forces of Colombia (AUC); Leonid Kuchma, President of Ukraine; Fidel Castro, President of Cuba; Zine al-Abdine Ben Ali, President of Tunisia; and Mahathir Mohamad, Prime Minister of Malaysia.
International Press Institute (freemedia.at)
The World Press Freedom Review 2000
“Putin’s first year in office has indeed revealed ambiguous tendencies on his part, especially in his dealings with the media. IPI pointed this fact out by placing Russia on the “IPI Watch List”, a mechanism designed to detect and monitor regressive tendencies in countries around the world. Among the issues of concern that have kept Russia on the “IPI Watch List” were the government’s introduction of a new “Doctrine of the Information Security of the Russian Federation” and the apparent political harassment of the biggest independent media company, Media-Most.”
MEDIA INDEPENDENCE IN COMPARISON
The Russian media are deeply troubled, but the problems they face are by no means unique. Here is a brief look at events in three European countries—one a member of the European Union, two of them aspiring members, all of them members of NATO.
Turkey
Turkey recently drafted a law requiring website operators to submit all documents to a prosecutor and a governor’s office before posting them on the Internet. If passed, the law will strengthen censorship of the Internet for which Turkey has already been criticized. Turkish authorities have consistently suppressed, discouraged and even prosecuted journalists who criticize the military or speak too freely on the plight of Turkey’s Kurdish minority.
Czech Republic
In December in the Czech Republic, journalists at the state-run Czech TV barricaded themselves in the station in response to the appointment of Jiri Hodac as their new director. Hodac was seen as a protégé of Prime Minister Vaclav Klaus, who has made contemptuous comments about the importance of a free press. Indeed, Hodac was appointed by a Parliament-controlled board; Klaus is the leader of the lower house of Parliament. Determined and ultimately successful opposition to Hodac’s appointment (including 100,000 protesters in Wenceslas Square supported by President Vaclav Havel) revealed the depth of the commitment to freedom of the press among the Czech People.
Italy
In Italy, the election of Silvio Berlusconi as Prime Minister in May means that the head of the Italian government will own the country’s three largest private television networks. Berlusconi is also on trial for bribery and corruption and being investigated for ties to the Mafia. In an editorial published before the elections The Economist asserted: “In any normal country the voters—and probably the law—would not have given Mr. Berlusconi his chance at the polls without first obliging him to divest himself of many wide-reaching assets…. If he wins again on May 13th, he will control a good 90 percent of all national television broadcasting. He has made not the slightest effort to resolve this clear conflict.”
—David Pass
ASSISTING RUSSIA’S MEDIA
Most media assistance organizations can be divided into three main types:
1. Advocacy. These track cases of censorship and repression against journalists and publicize them, sending protest letters to governments and publishing reports. Some provide legal assistance. An example is the U.S.-based Committee to Protect Journalists.
2. Associations. These unite journalists in one country or around the world to provide moral and material support, engage in training, and provide a forum for journalists to talk to each other. Examples include the International Federation of Journalists, based in Brussels, and the Russian Union of Journalists within Russia.
3. Media watch. These study media coverage and monitor links between media and politics. An example is the German-based European Media Institute, which has monitored media coverage of elections in Russia.
Many media groups play a combination of the roles above. In Russia, the Glasnost Defense Foundation is a leading advocate for freedom of press, but it also provides legal assistance and ‘humanitarian aid’ for journalists and their families, and sponsors conferences and workshops for training and debate. Globally, the International Press Institute combines advocacy with its role as a “journalists’ club.”
Media groups in Russia
Dozens of organizations operating in Russia serve as advocates for free, independent, and high-quality media. A partial list includes:
• Glasnost Defense Foundation (GDF). This group does some of everything: monitoring censorship, publishing a weekly report of censorship and repression, organizing protest letters, demonstrations and press conferences, publishing an annual account of censorship and repression throughout Russia, and providing legal and material aid to journalists and their families. (gdf.ru)
• Foundation for Independent Radio Broadcasting. Set up by the BBC’s Moscow office in 1999, the Foundation for Independent Radio Broadcasting (FNR) produces and distributes free information and educational radio programs, broadcast nation-wide over the frequencies of the Radio Russia station in Moscow and through a network of partner radio stations. FNR also provides professional training to Russian radio broadcasters and journalists. (fnr.ru)
• Internews Russia. Part of a world-wide program funded in part by USAID, this group focuses on improving independence and professionalism of regional television stations in Russia. Internews also serves as a useful clearinghouse for information on the Russian media. (internews.ru)
• Media Viability Fund. Created by the Media Development Loan Fund and the Eurasia Foundation, the Media Viability Fund provides low-interest loans to establish independent printing presses and provides training to help nongovernmental newspapers become independent. ()
• Moscow Media Law and Policy Center. This group, affiliated with the School of Journalism at Moscow State University, focuses on media law. Legal experts publish reports on new laws and provide legal aid to journalists. (medialaw.ru)
• Press Development Institute. Activities include training regional journalists and providing legal aid. (pdi.ru)
• Russian Union of Journalists (RUJ). This group is a trade union for journalists, but has expanded its scope to include organizing protests and connecting Russian journalists with their colleagues in other countries. (ruj.ru)
International Media Groups
A sampling of international media assistance organizations includes:
• Committee to Protect Journalists. A ‘Human Rights Watch’ for journalists, the Committee identifies and publicizes abuses. They issue updates, protest letters, and annual reports, and an annual “Ten Worst Enemies of the Press” (which included Putin in 2000). ()
• International Center for Journalists. They focus on training, fellowships, and exchanges. In spring 2000 and spring 2001 they held a series of three-week training sessions for Russian newspaper managers. Based in Washington, DC. ()
• International Freedom of Expression Exchange. This is an association of media advocates and organizations. Most of the groups listed here are members. Based in Toronto. ()
• International Press Institute. Protests, investigates, reports abuses. Makes ‘confidential interventions’ with government leaders. Based in Vienna. Enjoys consultative status at the UN, UNESCO, Council of Europe, and Organization on Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE). (freemedia.at)
• Reporters without Borders (Reporters sans Frontieres). An ‘Amnesty International’ for journalists. They focus on freeing journalists who are falsely imprisoned or harassed by authorities. Based in France. (rsf.fr)
• World Association of Newspapers. Grouping together newspaper publishers’ associations in 50 countries, this organization provides training, channels legal and material aid to needy journalists, and represents the newspaper industry in international discussions on media issues. (wan-)
What can be done from inside Russia?
Actions that have been proposed or are ongoing include:
• Research Russian media. Provide facts to governments, organizations, companies, individuals.
• Publicize abuses of freedom of press. Urge the Russian government to change repressive policies. Use the OSCE and Council of Europe.
• Organize training for journalists, editors, and managers.
• Invest in Russian media as a business venture.
• Promote legal aid programs to help journalists defend themselves in court.
• Advocate changes in Russian law to make media more profitable, independent, and accountable.
• Sell satellite TV to Russian viewers who can afford it.
• Sell cable TV to Russian viewers who can afford it.
• Create a public TV station with a ‘TV tax’ (based loosely on the BBC’s model) with publicly accountable managers.
• Improve independence of judiciary so that courts decide media cases fairly. Improve legal culture so that journalists seek redress in courts.
What can be done from outside Russia?
A list of proposals and ongoing efforts includes:
• Research Russian media. Provide facts to governments, organizations, companies, individuals.
• Publicize abuses of freedom of press. Urge the Russian government to change repressive policies. Urge Western governments to protest. Use the OSCE and Council of Europe.
• Organize training, fellowships, and exchanges.
• Invest in Russian media.
• Create partnerships with Russian media (such as the Financial Times/Wall Street Journal partnership with Vedomosti or U.S. News & World Report’s partnership with Versiya).
• Fund legal aid programs to help journalists defend themselves in court.
• Sell satellite TV to Russian viewers who can afford it.
• Sell cable TV to Russian viewers who can afford it.
• Invest in Internet news startups.
•
Insider Information
Analysis of Russian politics by leading Russian specialists Section Editor: Emily Van Buskirk
Systemic Crisis in the Russian Media
by Manana Aslamazyan
Manana Aslamazyan is the Director of Internews Russia.
What is Russian television like today? Most people think it consists of a few big TV channels that broadcast all over Russia, from Kaliningrad to Vladivostok. However, millions and millions of Russians make up an audience of viewers of regional independent TV stations that have sprung up in the post-Soviet space over the past few years. The emergence of these companies was a truly revolutionary change. Over 700 private TV stations have been established in the ten years since private television obtained the right to exist. These stations provide first-hand information to people in Russia’s regions about what is going on around them.
Russia needs laws to ensure a level playing field for all Russian media.
Despite some successes, Russian television (like other Russian mass media) continues to face serious difficulties. The problems that Russian media have to deal with arise primarily from a systemic crisis. The transition from Soviet mass media, which were part of the Soviet state machine, to a free press governed by the free market has been rather chaotic and inconsistent. The breakup of the Soviet system put the mass media up against gigantic monopolies in the areas of communication, delivery and distribution of mass media; in addition, the mass media went up against government resistance to any display of independence on its part (local governments are especially resistant).
The August 1998 financial crisis only aggravated this systemic crisis. The advertising market collapsed to one fifth of its size. This had some grave implications for non-governmental media, whose livelihood depends on advertising sales and, consequently, on the condition of the economy in general. At the same time, growing political tensions at the local and federal level after the August crisis and serious changes in the policies of the federal government after Yeltsin’s resignation have shown just how fragile and unstable were the early achievements in the area of Russia’s free press.
Today—especially since the events around NTV—the threat to freedom of the press in Russia media is cause for serious anxiety. Why did this happen and what can be done to save democracy and freedom of speech in Russia? There are many reasons why freedom of the press in Russia is under threat, but three in particular stand out as fundamental.
First, economic independence of Russian media will be unattainable so long as annual spending on advertising in Russia remains about $2 per capita, compared to $200 in Europe and $500 in the U.S. Economic independence serves to guarantee journalists’ independence. Neither the media themselves nor the organizations that support them can change this situation. The Russian economy still has a long and difficult path ahead before independent media are able to subsist on advertising revenues.
Second, there are no laws to ensure a level playing field for all Russian media. Russian TV companies (both in Moscow and the regions) face tough pressure from government officials. Administrative pressure on local buyers of advertising is enormous in small towns. Every bureaucrat has a favorite station or paper and hates all the others. Therefore, local officials use their power to exert economic pressure on the media through local businesses, which are likewise dependent on the whims of these officials.
In the bigger cities, the mass media have to face not only government officials but also Video International, a giant advertising monopoly. Before the 1998 crisis, Video International showed little interest in the market of local advertisement, being content with the huge national market. Now Video International is opening an office in every city and sells advertising time on ORT and RTR (national channels) to local customers, pocketing the revenues that local media would otherwise receive.
How can this situation be changed? There should be laws that establish equal competition among all media and allow them to operate freely in the advertising market. Many of these painful problems must be dealt with through influencing external factors, such as lobbying for modern laws, improving the current laws, conducting serious analysis of Russia’s advertising market, researching the economic and political aspects of the media industry, and a number of other measures.
Every bureaucrat has a favorite station or paper and hates all others.
Third, many Russian media have a low level of professionalism. Here support of international organizations and training centers that provide their knowledge and experience to Russian journalists is especially important. In the nine years of its existence, Internews, a non-profit organization, has trained over 6,000 TV specialists. Given the size of the country and the rate of development of independent television, this figure is still relatively small, and the demand for job training remains unchanged. In the near future Internews intends to conduct job training programs and seminars in journalism, advertising, camera work, and most importantly, management for independent TV stations and journalists. Experts in television from Russia, the CIS countries, Western Europe, and the U.S. will participate.
Today independent Russian media are fighting for freedom from state control. Local journalists have to fight every day in the offices of their newspapers, TV and radio stations. They need all the support they can get.
The Origin of Gusinsky’s Media Empire
by Chrystia Freeland
Chrystia Freeland is Deputy Editor of The Globe and Mail and former Moscow Bureau Chief for the Financial Times. These excerpts from her book, Sale of the Century: Russia’s Wild Ride from Communism to Capitalism (New York: Crown Publishers, 2000), are included in Russia Watch with the kind permission of the author.
Like so many of the oligarchs, in the beginning, Gusinsky was a corporate omnivore. In early 1992, when Mikhail Leontiev walked into his office, the latest enticement became the newspaper business. Not even Gusinsky, with his fondness for bold, self-flattering predictions, could have predicted then that by the end of the decade the humble proposal would grow into Russia’s dominant private media empire and the healthiest part of Gusinsky’s conglomerate, known as the Most group.
Leontiev was one of the new Russia’s most influential journalists. As a reporter, Leontiev took a special interest in the brash, slightly shady kooperators who were starting to emerge on the Moscow scene. By the time the Soviet Union collapsed, Leontiev had met, interviewed, and befriended most of the future oligarchs. He became closest to Gusinsky. Soon, Leontiev and Gusinsky were going out together with their wives and children, spending long Sunday afternoons in each other’s homes eating and scheming.
Gusinsky was the first to grasp how central a role the media would play in the advancement of business interests.
In those days, Gusinsky was still a lot closer to peddling copper bracelets and driving a gypsy cab than to advising the Kremlin and jetting around in a private Gulfstream jet, and it was he, as much as Leontiev, who stood to benefit professionally from the new friendship. Leontiev introduced Gusinsky into his intellectual circles and began to put his name forward when, for instance, a visiting World Bank official was in town and wanted to meet some of Russia’s budding capitalists.
In the middle of 1992, it was Leontiev’s turn to ask Gusinsky for a favor. By then, Leontiev was working for Nezavisimaya Gazeta, an independent newspaper founded in 1991, in the heat of the pro-democracy movement. Frustrated with their mercurial editor and their starvation wages, Nezavisimaya Gazeta’s top journalists decided to try to set up a publication of their own. They began to canvas Moscow’s moneymen to see if they could find a backer. But no one was interested.
Finally, Leontiev was deputized to approach Gusinsky. After long consideration, Gusinsky decided to back the project. One reason was his friendship. Another was Gusinsky’s theatrical personality and love of the public stage. Most important of all, Gusinsky was the first of the future oligarchs to grasp how central a role the media would play in the advancement of business interests. All of them, of course, had already discovered that politics and commerce were intimately intertwined. Yet Gusinsky was the first to fully appreciate to what extent in Russia’s nascent democracy the political process was not confined to the corridors and saunas of the Kremlin, but extended to its newspapers and television programs.
The first issue of Gusinsky’s new paper, christened Segodnya (Today) rolled off the printing presses on February 23, 1993. It was an instant success. Gusinsky had the subtlety and his journalists had the professional integrity to save Segodnya from becoming the sort of blatant mouthpiece for its proprietor’s commercial and political interests that many of the newspapers later established by other oligarchs would become. Instead, Segodnya was allowed to become one of Russia’s freest, most honest liberal daily newspapers, rivaled only by Izvestia, the slightly mustier, but occasionally more authoritative Soviet-era dowager.
Even so, Gusinsky’s vested interests did not go unserved. For one thing, although most of Segodnya’s journalists were too proud to write zakaznye, or “ordered,” articles, they submitted to a milder form of censorship. Gusinsky’s own businesses were definitely out of bounds. As Gusinsky put it: “My own publications don’t write negatively about me. I am the publisher and there must be some limits.” Sometimes, the limits would go further than that. Periodically, Most executives would ask Segodnya not to criticize some politician or businessman with whom crucial deals, like the bid for the Aeroflot accounts, were being transacted. (As in the case of Aeroflot, the journalists sometimes ignored such requests.)
For Gusinsky, these measures were defensive; he was careful not to use the newspaper as his puppet. It’s not that Gusinsky was a champion of the free press, although he sometimes posed as one. But he had a keen interest in preserving Segodnya’s reputation. If this paper was credible and influential, Gusinsky thought, then maybe some of its luster would rub off on him.
Even by 1993, as Gusinsky began to become seriously rich, he was finding it hard to shake his image as a slightly shady small-timer. Founding and owning a high-brow newspaper, one committed to the democratic and capitalist values supported by Moscow’s liberal intelligentsia, magically transformed Gusinsky into a player, a man whose views counted. At the price of a few million dollars a year—Segodnya’s annual losses—it was a bargain.
Later on, as Gusinsky’s commercial appetites became more focused, his media interests would become a source not only of image and influence, but also of profit. But in the early, heady years of Russia’s capitalist transformation, there was so much of Leontiev called “stupid money” in Moscow, and so many ways to make a killing, that running a newspaper as a profitable business simply didn’t make sense. When the Segodnya team asked Gusinsky to send in some number crunchers to help make their newspaper more economical, he told them it would be a waste of resources. “Think about it,” Gusinsky exhorted. “Managing a newspaper is just as complicated as managing a bank, and requires a whole new language. Imagine I take a man, who is currently either making a profit for me or making savings for me of $100 million a year. I send him to work at the newspaper, which is currently costing me losses of $8 million a year. As a result of his work, the losses are cut from $8 million to $2 million. So, what did it cost me—$94 million! What do I need that for? You should all just do what you like. I know you don’t steal.”
Even after the “stupid money” had dried up, Segodnya failed to become a major money-spinner for the Most group. But establishing the newspaper was Gusinsky’s defining business move. As Segodnya swiftly gathered public kudos, frustrated journalists in other media began to see Gusinsky as a potential benefactor. Among them were two leading television figures: Evgeny Kiselev, Russia’s most popular anchorman, and Oleg Dobrodeev, a top producer.
Both worked for ORT, the state-owned television channel. As 1993 wore on, and the conflict between the hard-line parliament and the president began to escalate, the two men found their journalistic freedoms at ORT increasingly curtailed. They decided to look for a moneyman to help them go private: Gusinsky was the obvious choice.
Frustrated journalists began to see Gusinsky as a potential benefactor.
Their first point of contact with the Most group was Sergei Zverev, an old friend and onetime fellow pro-democracy activist. At the end of May, Zverev invited Kiselev and Dobrodeev to his office in the Moscow city hall skyscraper overlooking the Moskva River. As the two men laid out their proposal to set up an independent production company, Zverev grew more and more excited. Segodnya had been up and running for just over three months, and recently he and Gusinsky had begun mulling over the idea of making a bolder foray into the media business by setting up their own television network. Now, he had two of Russia’s top television executives sitting before him.
Abruptly, Zverev called for a break in the meeting. He liked their idea, he told Kiselev and Dobrodeev, but maybe they should set their sights higher. Why not create not just a production company, but a whole television station? As the two visitors tried to absorb this escalation in their plan, Zverev rushed out of his office to Gusinsky’s far grander suite just around the corner. His eyes sparkling with excitement, he burst into Gusinsky’s private room and exclaimed: “You know how we were talking about creating our own television station? Well, I have two people in my office who can do it for us. There are no two better men for the job in all of Russia.”
Zverev fetched Kiselev and Dobrodeev, introduced them to Gusinsky, and the four men sat down to a two-hour discussion. By the end of it, what would become Russia’s first privately owned television station was born.
“To be honest, when we walked into the building we had no idea about forming an entire television station,” Kiselev, a fair-haired, handsome man with a Walter Cronkite growl, told me. “But we left it with the thought, Why not?”
For the new station to work, Gusinsky knew it needed more than creative talent. It needed a progressive manager, someone hard-headed, politically savvy, and able to swim in the violent currents of Russian capitalism. For Dobrodeev and Kiselev, the right candidate immediately sprang to mind: Igor Malashenko, the thirty-eight-year-old Soviet army brat, Dante scholar, and former Central Committee ideologue who had worked with them at ORT before being sacked as part of the new, repressive climate at the station. Malashenko, desperate for revenge against the apparatchiks who had kicked him out, jumped at the offer.
Just a few days after that first May meeting, the group went to work. In contrast with Segodnya, creating a brand-new television station required serious investment. According to Malashenko, in its first fifteen months of existence the new television company, which was dubbed NTV, the Russian acronym for Independent Television, ate up more than $30 million. Almost all of the money came from Gusinsky (he had invited two other bankers to join him in the project, but they dropped out almost at once).
The biggest challenge was to find a way to get on the Russian airwaves. Initially, NTV struck a deal with a regional St. Petersburg channel and in October 1993 began to broadcast a few of its news programs there. But Gusinsky’s ambitions were much higher than that. He wanted to create Russia’s first, national private television station. To do that, he needed to be granted broadcasting rights to one of Russia’s main national VHF channels, at the time a state monopoly.
In most Western companies, the divvying up of precious VHF television channels is a formal, carefully regulated, competitive process. But in Russia, with its legacy of state ownership and central planning, there was no established system. One thing was clear, though. Only one man had the power to make a decision of such tremendous political, and potentially commercial, significance—Boris Yeltsin. To win the Kremlin’s approval, Most set its formidable lobbying and PR machine in motion—drawing on everything from intelligence gathered by the ex-KGB agents in its private security force to friends in parliament and good ties with Moscow journalists.
In Russia there was no system for divvying up precious VHF television channels.
First, they needed to find a soft target. Dobrodeev suggested Most focus its sights on taking over Channel 4, a mongrel jointly controlled by the two state-owned, national television companies, each with channels of its own. By day, the underfunded channel showed amateurish programs prepared by Russian universities and by night it broadcast cheap shows rejected by the two main state channels.
Next, they needed to refine their arguments. For Most, the battle between the Kremlin and the parliament, which erupted into open street fighting in October, just as the first NTV shows began to appear in St. Petersburg, provided a helpful backdrop. The Most group strongly supported the president throughout the conflict. State-owned television, never completely certain who would triumph and instinctively somewhat sympathetic to the Communist-dominated parliament, was more ambivalent. The contrast helped Gusinsky and Zverev make a powerful case that the Kremlin would benefit from giving Most a channel of its own.
But neither the weakness of Channel 4’s programming nor Most’s firm support of Yeltsin played a decisive role. What was really crucial, as with all government decisions, was steering the draft presidential decree through the corridors of power, until it landed on Yeltsin’s desk with all the signatures of his subordinates reassuringly saluting at the bottom of the page. As usual, Zverev, who served as a sort of foreign minister for the Most group, orchestrating its relations with all levels of government and with other private financial empires, led the campaign.
Zverev began his offensive by nudging the public debate in NTV’s favor. “We unveiled a whole campaign in the mass media on the theme that Russia needed independent commercial television,” he told me. “There were many articles written and published on that theme, various people spoke about it, leading television personalities and so forth.”
“The license, in practice, never cost us anything at all,” Malashenko admitted.
Once the public was softened up to the idea, Zverev began the laborious process of vizirovat, or getting signatures on, the draft presidential decree. For two months, he walked the corridors of the Kremlin, drank tea in waiting rooms, lobbied old friends, and persuaded the heads of two state-owned channels that controlled Channel 4 to back the plan.
Yet, for all Zverev’s contacts and cunning, somewhere, the decree was being blocked. Worse still, Zverev had no idea who was blocking it. His breakthrough was serendipitous. One autumn afternoon, Zverev and Kiselev were sitting in one of the white-walled mansions in the Kremlin complex waiting for a meeting with a presidential adviser. After they had been kept waiting for the obligatory twenty minutes, the adviser’s office door was pushed open and they were invited in. Zverev and Kiselev recognized the man he had been ensconced with—Shamil Tarpishchev, the tall, lean, Tatar athlete who had become Yeltsin’s tennis coach and member of his inner circle.
Nudging Kiselev, Zverev asked if the television anchorman knew Tarpishchev. He did. “I see that his office is just across the hallway,” Zverev told his colleague. “When we’re finished here, let’s drop by and talk to Tarpishchev about Channel 4.”
They did, and in the course of the conversation, Zverev realized it was none other than the infamous tennis coach who was blocking their deal. Zverev couldn’t believe his luck. Now that he knew what the problem was, he could try to solve it. Tarpishchev’s objection, it turned out, was that he had a plan of his own for Channel 4—he wanted to turn it into Russia’s first all-sports network. It was easy to convince him to drop that plan—“Where will you find the funding?” Zverev asked—and even easier to win him over to Most’s rival proposal by promising to devote a certain amount of airtime to sports. As ever, Zverev was relying on one important bit of ignorance: like everyone else in Russia apart from the Most group, Tarpishchev hadn’t yet figured out that television could actually make money.
With Tarpishchev neutralized, the signature-gathering process picked up speed. By the middle of January 1994, the decree had been signed and NTV was born, with airtime on Channel 4 every night from 6 p.m. to midnight. Like Tarpishchev, the Kremlin hadn’t yet twigged to the commercial value of television: Most got the channel almost for free.
“The license, in practice, never cost us anything at all,” Malashenko admitted. “The cost was just a few kopecks. It was such a small sum that it wasn’t even worth remembering. It was a purely political decision.”
As usual—the same was true of government bank accounts, export licenses, and natural resources—the Russian state seemed unable to appreciate that its assets had a market value. And, as usual, the smartest, best-connected businessmen were the beneficiaries of the government’s ignorance.
With NTV on air every day and Segodnya on the desk of every Russian opinion maker, Gusinsky had transformed himself into Russia’s first media baron. He began steadily to acquire new titles and expand into other media: before long his empire would include a newsmagazine, a trashy Russian version of People magazine, a radio station, and satellite TV. His real estate and banking deals with Moscow city hall had given him money; his media interests gave him influence. Gusinsky had become what no private Russian businessman had been since 1917—a significant, independent, political force.
Gusinsky Has Made “Freedom” a Bad Word
by Alfred Kokh
Alfred Kokh is General Director of Gazprom-Media.
Recently Vladimir Gusinsky, the founder of NTV, proved to the world that under his leadership, the television channel never had real freedom. Gusinsky has filed a lawsuit to recover $11 million owed by the channel to Media-Most. A court arrested NTV’s accounts, including the one from which NTV pays salaries to its employees. As a result of this cunning revenge on the part of the former owner, NTV employees are at risk of being without money.
But Gusinsky does not care about journalists or camera crews. He does not care about NTV at all because he never invested a cent of his own money into the channel or its team. He built his business on the government’s money. Therefore, he is not concerned that NTV is in trouble. Moreover, I have good reason to maintain that NTV’s debt to Media-Most was created artificially by Gusinsky. He intentionally made NTV broke to create a TV channel dependent on him. He wanted to have journalists completely dependent on him. This dependence was the only way for him to use NTV as a weapon in the fight for his political interests. It is difficult to believe that this is what the Western public calls “freedom of speech.”
Gusinsky never invested a cent of his own money in NTV.
One cannot owe half a billion dollars and be free at the same time.
Gazprom invested almost a billion dollars in Gusinsky’s media business. In 1997, $130 million was paid to purchase OOO PRT-1, a company that owned a 14.7 percent stake in NTV. That same year Gazprom gave $40 million to NTV. In 1998, Gazprom loaned $260 million to Media-Most. Gazprom also guaranteed repayment on two loans for $211 million and $262 million made by Credit Suisse First Boston (CSFB) to Media-Most in 1998. (Incidentally, the $260 million loan was given in October 1998, two months after the August default—a time when Russia’s three-month moratorium on payment of international debts was still in force and no one dreamed of receiving loans. Evgeny Primakov, whom Media-Most later supported in the parliamentary elections, happened to be Prime Minister then.) Also in 1998, Gazprom loaned $68 million to New Television Technologies, a Gibraltar-based offshore company. The total of these investments is $971 million. Now, do we have the right to ask how this money was spent? Do we have the right to know how much of this money went to NTV?
According to Gallup Media’s data, we see that NTV’s rating fell by almost 40 percent in 2000. We know that capable experts and journalists such as Oleg Dobrodeev, Vladimir Kulistikov, Yelena Masyuk, and Arkady Mamontov left NTV. We have information that the company has serious problems with the purchased stock of movies and TV series for the new season. We observe how the company is losing the game show that is one of the most popular shows on TV: O, schastlivchik! (You’ve Got Lucky, like Who Wants to Be a Millionaire). Also we find out that NTV is having difficulty attracting sponsors for many of its programs… It looks like the company will fold as all our money goes to waste before our eyes; in this situation, we cannot stand aside in indifference. Even if one agrees that NTV is freedom of speech, then this freedom of speech needs to be saved from Vladimir Gusinsky!
We requested financial statements only to find out that they did not exist. NTV, a joint-stock company, had no accounting office. All accounting was done at Media-Most, which belonged to one of the NTV minority shareholders. We had no access to financial information at NTV. No sooner had we posed these questions than the cries began, such as “The Hand of Kremlin” and “Help! They are suppressing freedom.” But what about private property rights, which are so cherished in democratic countries? Why should we, owners of the company, suffer from Gusinsky’s monopoly on freedom of speech in Russia?
Then, under the banner of the fight for freedom of speech, Gusinsky began to transfer assets from Media-Most subsidiaries to Gibraltar offshore firms. He removed from the company the right to show movies and TV series. It turns out that in 1998, the NTV brand name was sold to a certain company called “NTV-holding” and that Media-Most therefore no longer owns the brand. It turns out that at least 20 percent of advertising revenues are channeled through offshore firms and that NTV is by no means the recipient of this money. Up until now only $450 million has been traced out of $1.2 billion invested by the government into Media-Most. Today the total value of capital assets of NTV is a meager $30 million. In other words, the rest of the assets have vanished mysteriously.
Schematically, the whole story of the relationship between Gazprom and Media-Most looks like this: Vladimir Gusinsky came to Gazprom and asked for loans. Gazprom said, “No problem, what will you give us as collateral?” He said, “I have a chest of gold.” Gazprom answered, “Okay, that will be fine.” So, we took the chest of gold and gave him loans. When repayment of the loans was due we said, “Give us back our money”. His answer was that he had no money. Then we said, “Well, then we will take the chest of gold”. But when we looked into the chest, there was no gold there. “I sold it”, Gusinsky explained. “Then give us the money from the sale of the gold,” we said. “I sold the gold for one cent,” said Gusinsky, “to my own companies.” “Then give us your companies that have our gold,” we demanded. And he cried, “Hands off, freedom of speech!”
So, tell me, did we have any other choice except to do all we could to refill that chest?!
After the election of the new board of directors of NTV, I went there as a shareholder and asked, “Say, do shareholders have any rights?” “Yes,” I was told, “they can give money!” This kind of democracy is a one-way street…
Jokes aside, I should admit that I am not the most objective expert as far as freedom is concerned. I am an economist and I was taught about the existence of a basis and superstructure. I therefore believe that in the U.S. freedom of speech is based first and foremost on the economy, and not at all on rules or laws. Upon examination, if one looks at rules, it turns out that Russia has some of the most liberal laws in the sphere of free speech. Russia has a law on mass media, which in a gust of democracy separated creative activities of journalists from financial matters. Under Russian law journalists are independent, and shareholders cannot interfere with editorial policies. The legislation provides maximum protection for freedom of speech. In Russia journalists can refuse to disclose their sources of information, make public transcripts of private telephone conversations, and intimate pictures of famous persons, or pornography, etc. In other words, Russian legislation could not be more liberal. However, there are many more problems with freedom of speech in Russia than in the U.S.
The key to having a real polyphony of opinions is big money. Despite very liberal media laws, the money that goes into development of mass media in Russia is a tiny fraction of the amounts invested in mass media in the U.S. That is why in Russia we had freedom of speech Gusinsky-style.
In the U.S. there is no separation between the rights of shareholders and the rights of journalists. There are, however, hundreds of TV stations and tens of national TV channels. In the end each of these channels represents the views of their owners. Since there are many owners, these ten channels can say completely different things about the same events. This is the polyphony of opinions. Any free-thinking person has the right to choose what he likes best. He or she has a choice. As a result the coverage of events is likely to be truthful.
In Russia, where there are three national channels, of which two belong to the government and one belongs to Gusinsky, only two opinions exist. There is simply not much choice. Since there is only one independent national channel, the value of its opinion should be higher than that of any independent channel in the US. Therefore, we have to create a channel that will be truly independent of the state and the oligarchs, where anyone will be able to speak up, not only Mr. Gusinsky with Gazprom’s money.
One cannot owe half a billion dollars and be free at the same time.
This is the reason why we have changed the management of NTV. The head of NTV, Boris Jordan, is an American citizen whom one can hardly suspect of having any secret ties to the Kremlin. No one can say that today NTV has less freedom of speech. On the contrary, some newspapers expressed their surprise: “What is the matter with Kokh and Jordan that they let Berezovsky speak up on NTV?” Jordan, by the way, called Berezovsky personally, inviting him to the TV show Geroi Dnya (Hero of the Day)… Later when Berezovsky himself fired Vitaly Tretyakov, editor-in-chief of Nezavisimaya Gazeta, nobody made any fuss about freedom of speech. The concept of freedom of speech has become hackneyed after Gusinsky and somewhat awkward to use.
The goal for the new management of NTV is completely non-political—increase capitalization of the company. Gusinsky seems to have taught everyone in Russia, including confirmed idealists, that real freedom costs a lot of money. We have yet to deal with the debts of NTV.
However, this whole story can be considered a positive experience. The conflict with Media-Most has shown that there is a conflict between freedom of speech and private property rights. Since the whole world is convinced that we have the responsibility for the future of free press in Russia we will be trying to resolve this conflict. We will try to develop a mechanism to settle the conflict without elimination of either freedom of speech or private property rights. We understand that this task was given by life itself.
The Demise of Gusinsky’s Media Empire
by Masha Lipman
Masha Lipman is the former Deputy Editor of Itogi magazine.
In April 2001 Media-Most, the biggest privately owned media empire in Russia, ceased to exist after a fierce struggle with government agents and creditors that had lasted for over a year. The group included a national TV channel, NTV, a daily paper, Segodnya, a news magazine, Itogi—published in cooperation with Newsweek—and a radio station, Ekho Moskvy. This media group was created and owned by Vladimir Gusinsky, who was forced to leave Russia after a long campaign of personal harassment and persecution.
Western observers of Russia and a minority of the Russian public regard the squelching of Media-Most as a crackdown on freedom of the press. The Russian government, however, insists that the destruction of the media group was purely a business matter. The Kremlin claims that it was the result of complex business litigation, in which a bad debtor, Gusinsky, would not pay back what he owed to his creditors; his media assets were taken away from him as a compensation for his debts.
Both explanations, however, fail to present a comprehensive description of the complex relations between government, business and media in today’s Russia.
Vladimir Gusinsky, one of Russia’s richest and most influential business tycoons, created NTV, the first ever privately owned national TV channel in my country’s history. NTV, and especially its news coverage, was universally regarded as the best among TV organizations in Russia. When Russia started its first war in Chechnya in late 1994, young NTV reporters covered it bravely and honestly. They brought back the horrible scenes of the war, and their coverage played a key role in the formation of anti-war attitudes among the Russian public. It was this attitude that forced President Boris Yeltsin to stop the war and pull his troops out of Chechnya as he was running for reelection in 1996.
NTV and other Media-Most news organizations, as well as nearly all Russian media, supported Yeltsin for president against his Communist rival, Gennady Zyuganov. This support was driven by a strong belief that a Communist comeback would be fatal for Russia’s fledgling democracy and would put an end to liberal freedoms—first and foremost to freedom of speech. In 1996, this attitude was shared by the business and journalistic community, as well as parts of the political elite and general public.
After Yeltsin’s victory Vladimir Gusinsky got his reward. He was allowed to expand the operation of his media, thereby further increasing his political influence. The expansion required huge funds, and Gusinsky took credits that amounted to hundreds of millions of dollars. His biggest creditor was Credit Suisse First Boston, and the loan was guaranteed by the state-controlled Russian natural gas monopoly Gazprom.
There is persuasive evidence that Putin personally hated Gusinsky.
Gusinsky spent lavishly. He even bought his own communications satellite. He expected that this investment would pay off with the growth of the Russian economy, but the financial crisis of 1998 dealt a heavy blow to his plans. The advertising market shrank dramatically, as did the number of subscribers of his newly created cable network, NTV Plus. Gusinsky had huge debts and could hardly count on his business to make a profit in the foreseeable future.
In 1999 Vladimir Putin, then prime minister, started the second Chechen war. Unlike the first one, it was supported by the majority of the Russian public and by most media. The war propelled Putin to popularity, and the business and political elite gradually rallied round him. But Media-Most outlets took a critical stand toward the war and offered a dissenting view of Russian life and politics altogether. Even when it became clear that Putin had a good chance of winning the presidential election in 2000, Gusinsky’s media would not support him for president. This time, however, the attitude of Media-Most was different from other news organizations.
NTV had an audience of 100 million people, and the Kremlin knew how effective the influence of television could be. During the reelection of Yeltsin in 1996, as well as the election of Putin in 2000, the contribution of television was immense. The Kremlin would not put up with one of the three national TV channels being in full discord with government policy. There is also persuasive evidence that president Putin personally hated Gusinsky as a man who dared challenge the cause of the Chechen war and get in the way of his government operation.
Even though the desire to get rid of Gusinsky and his television was very strong, Putin’s government would not resort to rough, straightforward methods. It would not interfere with editorial policy or take away broadcasting licenses. After ten years of democratic reforms, the Russian government was concerned about Russia’s image as a modern and democratic society. The war against Gusinsky was disguised as a criminal prosecution of himself and his business associates and a business dispute with the state-controlled gas monopoly Gazprom.
The most striking episode of the prosecutors’ anti-Gusinsky campaign was the raid of his administrative building in downtown Moscow. Masked men with submachine guns burst into the building and searched the offices. They left at the end of the day taking away many boxes of documents. Yet, it never became clear what they were looking for. Over the following months dozens of searches and interrogations were conducted. A number of criminal cases were opened, which later fell apart one after another. It was clear that the real goal of the campaign was intimidation, not criminal proceedings. But this technique did not work: Gusinsky’s media continued to function as before.
Meanwhile, Gazprom began to press Gusinsky, demanding that he pay back what he owed. Gusinsky was vulnerable to Gazprom pressure: he had failed to pay back his debt to Credit Suisse First Boston, and Gazprom, as a guarantor, paid it for him. Gazprom, a huge gas monopoly that accounts for 7 percent of Russia’s economy, is controlled by the state: the government is its biggest shareholder (it owns a 38 percent stake) and the Kremlin deputy chief of staff is the chairman of Gazprom’s board of directors. Relations between the government and the management of Gazprom have always been murky and based on secret arrangements rather than laws and legal contracts. There is good reason to believe that throughout its business conflict with Gusinsky Gazprom acted in close cooperation with the Kremlin.
As the business dispute between Gazprom and Gusinsky developed, the prosecutors’ operation never stopped. In June 2000 Gusinsky was arrested under a vague pretext, spent three days in jail and was released on the condition that he would not leave Moscow. At this moment the “criminal” and the “business” lines converged. Gusinsky was secretly approached by Gazprom agents and offered a deal that was later nicknamed “freedom for shares”: if he agreed to sell all his media assets, he would be granted freedom. Gusinsky signed the sale agreement, but he insisted that a concomitant protocol be annexed to the contract. The protocol stated that freedom was indeed guaranteed to Gusinsky in exchange for the sale of his media property. A cabinet minister, namely the minister of the press, signed this protocol. After that Gusinsky was allowed to leave Russia and immediately went to Spain, where he owned property.
The media understand the government’s unwritten rules without formal explanations and they comply readily.
Later, both the sale contract and the protocol were made public, and the sale never happened. Gazprom went on with its business litigation aimed at settling the debt by taking over Gusinsky’s property. The dispute lasted for many months, and during this time prosecutors conducted dozens of searches of Media-Most administrative offices and interrogations of its managerial staff. They opened a new case against Gusinsky and requested his extradition from Spain. After a long deliberation, a Spanish court denied the extradition request.
In April 2001 Gazprom finally won and formally took over Gusinsky’s media assets. The NTV team split as a group of journalists and anchors quit and went to work on another channel with a smaller audience. Within a few days Gusinsky’s daily paper Segodnya was closed. At the news magazine Itogi, of which I was deputy editor, the entire staff was fired and replaced with a new team. (Newsweek promptly withdrew from the partnership.) Over the past two months the new Itogi has drifted toward becoming a less political publication. Ekho Moskvy is currently struggling for independence from Gazprom.
NTV continues to operate, and its general director, American businessman Boris Jordan, pledges that he will not allow any government interference with his TV channel. The truth, however, is that the government does not need to interfere. The Kremlin does not seek to take Russia back to the Communist past, where all the media were under rigid ideological control and spoke in one voice, whatever the subject. There’s no question that in today’s Russia the media enjoy the sort of freedom unheard of in the USSR. The rulers of today are only concerned about “correct” coverage of a fairly limited number of sensitive subjects, such as Kremlin politics and military matters. Also, they want to be assured that president Putin will be treated by journalists with due respect. The Russian media are generally cooperative. They understand these unwritten rules without formal explanations and they comply readily.
Here’s a recent example. Three top-ranking officials— the minister of defense, the minister of the interior and the chief of state security service met with the press. The press on that occasion consisted of top editors of five big newspapers. After the meeting, the authorized transcript was given out to all five, and they dutifully printed it in their respective papers. Rumor has it that the editors’ questions had been given out to them prior to the meeting.
The vast majority of the Russian people see nothing wrong with this policy of caution and cooperation adopted by the Russian media. After the first post-Communist decade, when they felt abandoned and not taken care of by the government, they are largely in favor of more government control in all spheres of life. Only four percent of the public regarded what happened to NTV as a government attempt to limit the freedom of the press.
There are still a number of media that are less compliant. They continue to operate, but they find it harder to get access to the sources of information on sensitive subjects. After the Kremlin has gotten rid of its worst enemy—Vladimir Gusinsky and his powerful media empire—it remains to be seen whether the government will further crack down on freedom of the press. Maybe there at the top they will decide they may put up with a few inquisitive newspapers and web sites. But it is hardly likely that any time soon there will appear in Russia a national TV channel that will present a dissenting view of Russian life.
Russian Media in a Revolutionary Period
by Sergei Markov
Sergei Markov is Director of the Institute for Political Research in Moscow.
The NTV case cannot be regarded as an ordinary episode. The fight in connection with NTV took one and a half year and became the most outstanding political event to mark the first two years of Vladimir Putin’s presidency. Nor is it accidental: NTV graphically reflected the most important tendencies of the contemporary historical period. But first, some history.
Russian media in post-Soviet Russia
The media have played a crucial political role at all stages of modern Russian history. Since the start of the glasnost period in 1987 until the onset of an acute political crisis in 1990, they played a most important political role as the outlet for the public opinion. It was the media that laid out before an amazed public all points of view on problems of any public significance. Their reward was vast popularity. Families subscribed to 10-15 periodicals. An attempt by the authorities to do something to restrict subscription rates (a rise in circulation on that scale proved a serious money drain, what with all media receiving subsidies from the state budget) caused spontaneous protests and the authorities had to give in.
In 1990-1991, a period of confrontation between the democratic movement and the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU), the media were key in mobilizing the masses against the CPSU. All media became the “party press” as it were, catering to a party of resolute supporters of democracy. Going against this party was a small group of opponents of democracy, mostly Russian nationalists; but they also had a party press of some sort.
In the period from 1992-2000, marked by radical economic reforms, the media lost some of the state support they had enjoyed and had to look for financial backing elsewhere. Step by step, all the leading media ended up in the hands of financial and political groups, the so-called oligarchs, which plunged into a fight against each other for more power and property. The media again played a key role, serving as the main political weapon. It was not like Chicago in the early 1900s where oligarchs fired at each other from submachine guns. Rather they used “information and analytical panoramas” and newspaper articles. It was not homespun Al Capones that became the heroes of the day but brutal journalists who got branded as “information killers.” The most striking case in point was television anchor Sergei Dorenko from Boris Berezovsky’s ORT channel. The print media had their most outstanding mercenary writer in Alexander Minkin of the mass-circulation Moskovsky Komsomolets.
Russia witnessed “information wars” flaring up one after another like outbreaks of Intifada in the Middle East. As a result, there was a sharp decline in public trust of the media. Infighting for power and property ended in the collapse of the system of oligarchic capitalism as a consequence of the 1998 economic crisis. The state emerged as the winner and set about restoring its position in the country. It again came to wield the main political instruments in the form of the media, primarily the leading television channels—first RTR, later ORT, and then NTV.
Whence comes the threat to freedom of expression in Russia
The position of the media in Russia is shaped by several financial, political and ideological factors.
1. Finances. Very roughly, the combined annual budget of Russia’s media amounts to three billion dollars. According to the President of the Association of Advertising Agencies, the aggregate budget of advertisements running in the media stands at close to one billion dollars. Therefore, if they operated within a market framework, two thirds or possibly a bigger share of Russian media outlets would have been dead by now; but they are unwilling to die. This, in turn, means that Russian media draw two thirds of their budget from politically-oriented sources, not from the market. The federal government supplies about $1 billion to federal media outlets, notably the leading television channels. Regional authorities provide about $1 billion for all regional media outlets. Therefore, regional media outlets and federal channels find themselves politically dependent on the authorities. When the oligarchs were calling the tune in Russian politics and when they privatized the state, they also privatized the media as the main political instrument and they covered their costs. Later, as the state continued on the path of revival, it grabbed the media out of their control and committed itself to financing them. The way out of the situation is a growing domestic consumer market, which will result in growing advertising budgets.
2. Politics. Political parties are very weak in Russia. And in these conditions a most advanced political system of an information society has been built in Russia. Political scientists in other countries would be well advised to study it—the same tendencies will soon make their appearance in their countries too. The media, or to be more exact, informational and political holdings, have intercepted many of the functions of political parties: political socialization, political mobilization. They could, in fact, be described as the latest political parties of the information era. Together with political clans these quasi-parties have become leading players in Russian politics. In other words, Russian media are not so much media per se as political parties. The way out of this situation is the development of normal political parties. That Putin is trying to stimulate their development is a very healthy development.
3. Ideology. Journalists have formed a kind of corporation with rigid corporate requirements. One of them reads: “capitalism for all, socialism for us.” In keeping with this slogan the media have managed to secure a situation where equipment intended for them is not subject to customs duty, and newsprint is funded by the state. Another tenet says that, “journalists are first-class people.” The most graphic illustration came soon after the murder of one of the most popular journalists, Vladislav Listyev. The nation was shocked to learn that nobody was protected from murder. Journalists imposed a blackout on programming and asked President Yeltsin to come to Ostankino, which he did. Their speeches were characterized by the theme that all journalists were vulnerable—any one of them could be killed. The episode revealed a difference of opinion between society and journalists. The journalistic community was bedeviled by ‘paid materials’ and their part in information wars—people on the information front got paid through the nose if they agreed to write contract articles. Although paid articles can no longer be funded as they used to be because of a shortage of money, corruption is still a problem. Many journalists naively believe that they can simultaneously be heralds of the nation and write paid articles, palming them off as the truth. These contradictions in the positions of the journalistic corporation have brought about a situation where society no longer regards journalists as exponents of public opinion. If that is the case, if they are not genuine promulgators of the truth but corrupt scribblers making big money, why should society support them? That is how corruption undermines public support of the media. The way out is a change of journalistic ideology—it should move away from eulogizing gain and the cult of money as the only worthwhile value, toward the common good. From corporate solidarity to the idea of serving society. Such changes of ideology are impossible without changes in society. In other words, the country’s moral rebirth is indispensable for freedom of speech. We can see from this example that the problem of values is one of the key problems in present-day Russia. Regrettably, it is grossly underestimated by Russian politicians.
4. Fifteen years of complete liberty and hyper-pluralism were also years of Russia’s national distress. The country’s disintegration, loss of allies, a continuous crisis in all spheres of society, a downturn in the economy, moral degradation, rampant crime… All other countries were rapidly developing while Russia faced the prospect of becoming a second-rate nation. Rejection of the old policy inevitably entails centralization of authority, property and resources. The controllable democracy concept that is being implemented makes the media a maidservant of politics. The authorities need media support in order to translate into practice socially difficult reforms like the reform of the housing and utilities system and that of the power sector. It will not be easy to separate the necessity of using the media to support painful reforms from the necessity of maintaining media independence for the purpose of advancement of democracy. There are no opponents of democracy in the Kremlin. But people up there are pragmatists who regard this country’s advance as something more important than the principles of freedom of expression. They realize at the same time that in the modern world, development is impossible unless there is freedom and democracy. The media find themselves in the center of this clash of principles.
The Kremlin’s attitude to the media
I am not sure there is any particular plan in this respect. But there is undoubtedly a media policy and its analysis enables us to reconstruct the principles of this policy.
All media are divided into three parts, with the Kremlin people ascribing various ideological precepts to each.
• The first group includes radio stations and some print media that may be economically profitable. Here the Kremlin people apply the market approach: “If you can be successful in the market, do whatever you want within the law.”
• The second group includes the leading television channels and radio stations. These are regarded as assisting freedom of propaganda rather than freedom of expression. This political propaganda is commissioned by a group that bankrolls these broadcast media. Within the framework of the ideology of controllable democracy for development, it is implied that large-scale propaganda is permitted only in favor of the government. Calmly neutral propaganda that contains constructive criticism is also permitted.
• The third group is made up of high-quality press, primarily printed and on-line editions. It is regarded as an important element of the dialogue with society, and as a medium of mass communication between the elites and society and between the elite groups themselves. With respect to these, the Kremlin implements an ideology of encouragement of democracy. For this reason, the quality press, including those openly opposition-minded, not only will not be suppressed but actually will get governmental support if they encounter economic problems. The elimination of Segodnya is an exception rather than the rule. It was down on its luck, becoming a victim of the war between the Kremlin and Vladimir Gusinsky.
Kremlin vs. Gusinsky over NTV
To be sure, the conflict over NTV is not a purely legal feud between two business structures; it is a political conflict between Gusinsky and the Kremlin. For Putin, NTV is not a mass medium, but a political adversary. It is, first, a political party, because it always engaged in political battles. Second, it is a foreign political party, because Vladimir Gusinsky enjoys two nationalities and has a permit for residence in Gibraltar; besides he is a non-resident tax-wise, paying taxes, for the last eight years, anywhere but in Russia, where he spends less than half of his time. Gusinsky has always received unconditional political support from the United States and the policy his media pursued was rarely at odds with the guidelines issuing from the U.S. administration.
NTV is a foreign quasi-party conducting a policy that is directly at variance with the national interests of Russia.
Third, NTV is a foreign quasi-party conducting a policy that is directly at variance with the national interests of Russia. Gusinsky ran his propaganda machine in support of the separatists’ army in Chechnya. His media ran down the Russian army, which was fighting for Russia in the Caucasus, and lauded the separatist leaders. He also repeatedly called for the secession of Chechnya. I am sure that Putin views this as a betrayal of Russia. There is no doubt therefore that he and his team hate Gusinsky and believe he is an enemy of Russia rather than a Russian opposition politician or businessman.
NTV cannot be profitable in Russia today. Gusinsky needed support from the Kremlin under Boris Yeltsin, whose political order he was fulfilling. But support was given in the form of credits. Then new leadership came to the Kremlin and changed the political contract, demanding that either the credits be returned or NTV be given up.
The campaign for control over NTV was so long because Putin demanded that everything be in keeping with the law. Under the law it took about a year and a half and cost Putin and Russia an immense loss inflicted by a series of blows to their image. For Putin it was a principled approach: we shall defend Russia’s interests and everything will be done according to the law. NTV went under the control of a corporation loyal to the Kremlin.
Could it have been otherwise? I think the course of events had been predetermined. The ideology of NTV had two lines in it—a radical pro-Western approach and traditional dissident hatred for its own state. The present elite has become convinced, after the arrest of Pavel Borodin and the 1998 crisis, that patriotism is pragmatic and that the elite has an interest in defending its own state. The elite has become patriotic; patriotic pro-Western people have come to power in the Kremlin. For them the history of Russia is not a series of mistakes and crimes, a series of victories and setbacks, tragedies and triumphs of human spirit. The political line of hatred for one’s own state proved politically impossible.
The campaign for control over NTV took so long because Putin demanded that everything be in keeping with the law.
The new NTV will retain its pro-Western tendency, but respect the state. This is normal development. It is hard to imagine that in the U.S. during the war against Nazi Germany a big TV channel whose owner did not conceal his liking for Nazis would function. And, say, if a Vietcong force landed in Texas to “liberate Texans from U.S. slavery, for Texas had been seized by the U.S. in an imperialist war,” could a TV channel function in the U.S. and show Vietcong heroes and corrupt U.S. officers? Russia left Chechnya alone in 1996, but three years later the Chechen army invaded Dagestan, sowing death and destruction, while Gusinsky demanded that the atrocities of the Russian federal army be shown on TV. The wrecking of NTV is retribution for hatred towards one’s own state.
The ideology of NTV journalists was not just liberal—all the money was there, and solidarity was treated as communism. All these years NTV broadcasts came up against tough public criticism; it was accused of trampling morals. When the crisis broke out, the authorities published information about the incomes of leading journalists. As a result, not many people supported NTV. But the NTV journalists could not use even that support. People had come to the rally held in support of NTV to protect their own freedom, but all speeches by NTV stars were about NTV’s freedom. Such egoism could not inspire champions of freedom of expression.
NTV derided public solidarity, extolling egoism and money. As a result, journalists brought up in these false morals did not display solidarity with the leadership, while the majority of them were simply bought by the new NTV leadership. Thus NTV became a victim of its own ideology, a victim of the cult of egoism. The country could watch live dramatic dialogues between those who had gone to struggle for the freedom of expression in the country and those who stayed, demonstrating personal freedom of a choice.
No doubt, NTV was the most professional and modern TV company. Its disintegration was a tragedy for the Russian media. Society is interested in the preservation not of the former NTV—this is impossible—but in preserving the ideology of a radical pro-Western trend.
How Russia Reported the NTV Affair
Russia’s regional press conducted an information war with NTV
by Emil Pain
Emil Pain is the Galina Starovoitova Fellow on Human Rights and Conflict Resolution at the Kennan Institute/ Woodrow Wilson Center in Washington D.C. and a former adviser to Russian President Boris Yeltsin.
Predictions that Vladimir Putin’s presidency would flow by without major political scandals, that it would be “boring,” uninteresting for the press, so far have not proven true. Coming on the heels of the “Kursk” submarine story, the events surrounding NTV, the newspaper Segodnya, and the journal Itogi have turned out to be among the most actively and widely discussed in Russia. An Internet search using the key words “NTV and Gazprom” turned up several thousand reports from the regional press; I looked at about 200.[1]
Assessments of the transfer of NTV and Media-Most into Gazprom’s hands were varied, but each of them can be attributed to one of three concepts.
1. The liberal concept defines the events as a purposeful action of the Putin administration and the beginning of the Russian Government’s offensive against freedom of speech.
2. The Communists and Russian nationalists (the leftist nationalist concept) welcome the suppression of NTV and other media instruments of the oligarch Gusinsky as they are, allegedly, in opposition to Russia and Russians. They “for 10 years imposed on us the American cult of ugliness… We’ve had it with these CIA psychological methods that break the people’s mentality.”[2] Furthermore, the Communists and Russian nationalists have no doubt that Putin ordered NTV’s destruction; and for this they support him.
3. The protectionist concept, to the contrary, was invoked to prove that the president was not involved in the events surrounding Gusinsky’s holdings, that the dispute was explicitly economic and legal in nature. This concept has in common with the Communists a dislike for the “oligarch’s for-sale media.”
Oddly enough, each of these three concepts was brought forth in its own particular way. The Communist concept, for the most part, through the letters of workers and the announcements of social organizations. The liberal concept, beyond open letters and appeals of the intelligentsia, through short announcements of strikes or other actions in support of NTV, for example: “The Editor-in-Chief of the newspaper Arsenevskie Vesti went on a five day hunger strike in support of NTV.”[3] Analytical commentary of the events surrounding NTV by liberal authors was extremely rare.
The “protectionist,” pro-government concept, on the contrary, was presented solely in the genre of pro-government commentary. Official regional (oblast’) newspapers that published these commentaries assigned their best publicists and abundantly quoted prominent Moscow authors loyal to the president, for example the journalist Stanislav Kondrashev, famous in Soviet times; sometimes they specially ordered articles from such master journalists as Leonid Zhukovitsky.[4]
However, disregarding the varied names and the difference of opinions and creative style of the authors, their products ended up being surprisingly similar in structure. In each article, the author avoided even posing the question: “Who can gain from the suppression of the oppositional NTV?” Every article included identical proof of the non-involvement of the president and singularly welcomed the slandering of NTV. Below are examples of this technology of “brainwashing,” each including five mandatory elements.
1. “This is an economic, not political feud.” This assertion was repeated like a chant: “Gazprom-Media approaches NTV very rationally, as it would any debtor of the corporation” or “In this case we, of course, observe the classic Russian variant of redistribution of ownership ‘for debts.’”[5] At the same time, the authors clearly were nervous about their version and even, in a way, made excuses: “This is a financial question, of which I’m not a specialist” (Leonid Zhukovitsky), “I don’t have any desire to spell out the secret motives” (Stanislav Kondrashev), “I’m not planning on looking in others pockets…”[6], “I don’t understand the details of financial operations…”[7]
And then there’s Alexander Ryazov from Surgut, evidently “understanding the details” of such operations, and not shy about “looking in the pockets” of Gazprom, showed that more than half of the state company’s expenditures on press were not its own, but state budget resources (for this reason the company was censured by the Russian Accounting Bureau). Further, he maintains that if it wanted to resolve the financial questions that it could have tried to sell the debts of Most-Media: “…furthermore, that there are potential buyers. Instead, Gazprom through its actions brought almost complete depreciation of the shares in NTV. The fact that Gazprom-Media is planning to replace not only the economic, but the editorial management calls for caution.” And, of course, the author writes: “What does a change in ownership mean without considering the social and political importance of NTV…even certain stock companies are given special treatment—for example, Tyumenenergo and Tyumenaviatrans also have debts, but they are not ruined, because they are considered important to society. This situation cannot be made into a discussion of ownership—after all NTV is not some company producing shoes. It’s a political holding.”[8]
2. “Don’t mix Putin up in this.” The Moscow masters delicately defended the President, almost laughing at the undemocratic and uncivilized nature of the requirements put upon them by the defenders of NTV. “Appeals to President Putin,” writes Kondrashev, “seem illogical, but they’re fully within the Russian mentality, which easily combines democracy—or its likeness—with the eternal tsar-father.” Zhukovitsky seconds this notion: “When Pavel Borodin was put in an American prison, they laughed at calls for Bush to help the prisoner—can the American President really influence the courts? But now they are demanding that the Russian president get involved in the struggle with “Gazprom?” The provincials write aggressively, with swinging blows: “Enough of this ‘exposing’ the head of state”[9] or “Putin doesn’t work at Gazprom…”.[10] This argument is unconvincing: the President indeed does not work at Gazprom, but it is enough that the first deputy of his administration is also the chairman of the board of directors of Gazprom. It’s absolutely certain the gas giant could not undertake this action without the Kremlin’s knowledge.
3. “NTV is the oligarchy’s servant.” Both Moscow and provincial journalists completely exploited popular hatred for the “oligarchs” and for the wealthy in general. The Muscovites did this more artistically. Kondrashev used poetic rhymes: “Television serves not the muses, but those, who pay…It’s not to the bayonet but to the wallet that the quill is equated.” Zhukovitsky tried to be aphoristic: “You can’t give freedom to anybody—but you need to give debts away…Too often NTV journalists spoke not ‘for themselves’ but ‘for the ownership.’”
The provincial press put more emphasis on current trendy criminal jargon: “NTV is a media racket,”[11] “The caprices of a paid prostitute,”[12] “Those guys sold out…they were paid good money for their ability to bend so easily.”[13] It appears that most of all it was the incomes of the NTV staff that upset the writers’ fraternity: “The wages and credits on which the defenders of free speech were operating, are so far from the average wage of the typical viewer that the NTV journalist also appears to be some sort of oligarch.”[14]
“This is an economic, not political feud.” This assertion was repeated like a chant.
In all the regional press that I reviewed, only one argumentative article turned up that can be placed in contrast to all these simple attacks on NTV. Kirill Rogov, in the Irkutsk paper, hit the target, noting “the problem isn’t that it’s good NTV versus the bad guys. The problem is that it’s bad NTV versus the even worse guys. The destruction of NTV and the victory of the other side will mark the foundation of a propaganda and information monopoly of these same guys, in conditions when the level of censorial pressure on the two Russian state channels is moving on a direct course to Soviet era standards.”[15]
4. “NTV’s schism.” Each of the defenders of the official concept one way on another played up the fact that some portion of NTV did not leave with Kiselev, but stayed with the channel that ended up in Gazprom’s hands. For a description of who’s who, it’s all laid out in black and white (see table 1 below).[16]
Russian nationalists also were interested in the NTV staff, but only from the point of view of their ethnic backgrounds. A Worker’s Deputy, Vasily Shandybin, went so far in his anti-Semitism that he was ready to defend even the hated Evgeny Kiselev, just so that he wouldn’t be replaced by “Zionists” (as he called the mangers of NTV Alfred Kokh and Boris Jordan). [17] And the Rostov nationalist Davydov, who’s tongue could not be twisted around to calling Evgeny Kiselev Russian, called him Russian-speaking: “…the work of the Russian-speaking Kiselev is the truest form of propaganda,
Table 1
|Those remaining |Those who are gone |
|Honest and Independent |Sold out conformists |
|“Free-thinking individuals—Leonid |“Legions of Evgeny Kiselev’s supporters,|
|Parfenov, Tatyana Mitkova, the |a motley group.” “All-out seekers of |
|founder of the television company |lucrative posts and worshippers of |
|Oleg Dobrodeev” |Gusinsky’s talent for swindling.” |
| |“Pathetic individuals!” |
|Professionals |Non-professionals |
|“Tatyana Mitkova—smart and active, |“The aggressive hysterics of Dibrov, |
|Leonid Parfenov—high professional”; |disgraceful methods of polemics in the |
|“…brilliant professionals Parfenov |mouth of Sorokina, political |
|and Mitkova, not willing to fall in |tongue-tying of sharp reporters.”; |
|line.” |“…the theory of the high professionalism|
| |of the journalists of NTV that they |
| |thought up and advertised themselves.” |
|Decent |Indecent |
|“Leonid Parfenov and Tatyana Mitkova|Venediktov and other “stars” time after |
|exercised their right to not be |time, in their criticisms, fell lower |
|pulled into the ugly scandal. |and lower, sinking to the level of |
| |vulgarity. |
furthermore it’s aggressively unfriendly to Russia, as a sovereign government, of course, and not a protectorate of Washington.”[18] The newspaper Zavtra decided to defend the honor, specifically the racial purity, of the new general director of NTV Boris Jordan, publishing an interview with his father Alexei under the garish title “WE COULDN’T BE JEWS…”[19] Is any commentary necessary?
5. NTV and the West. To strengthen their readers’ disgust towards the oppositional NTV, proponents of the official concept exploited the new trendy Russian anti-Western tendency. Of course, this was done more delicately than in the Communist press, for example, by Stanislav Kondrashev, who only in passing, but in spite, remarks that there is some kind of “press-representative” from the U.S. State Department, whose job it is to look after free speech in Russia. It is also done with completely unexpected changes of topic. Thus, the Communists rebuked NTV because it did not defend the patriot Borodin, and pro-government journalists curse the channel because it plays up to the Americans and “offends Russia, organizing a press-conference for his (Borodin’s) defenders on its channel.”;[20] the Communist press doesn’t tire of repeating that NTV “sold itself to the West,” more specifically to America, to the CIA. The liberal journalist Leonid Zhukovitsky in contrast to this asks: “Why does the West support NTV with its heart but not its wallet?” Either the Moscow journalist has never heard of Ted Turner and his intention to acquire shares in NTV, or likewise of the Russian parliament that stands in his way, or he is acting on the principle: “it doesn’t matter what you hit, as long as it hurts.”
Results. Disregarding the artificial nature of similar constructions, it was exactly the “defensive” concept that received the majority of popular support: 46 percent of those surveyed suggest that financial problems are the reason for the scandal surrounding NTV and the transfer of ownership, and less than a third see in this event the beginning of an attack on free speech in Russia. And thus 25 percent view Gusinsky as guilty, Kiselev—11 percent, Kokh and Jordan—10 percent, and fewer than the rest—Putin and his circle—all of 9 percent of those surveyed by the All-Russian Center for the Study of Public Opinion (VTsIOM)[21].
This can in part be explained by the fact that the concept defending the government was disseminated on the two most popular television stations, RTV and ORT, and was also circulated by the majority of newspapers under the control of the regional authorities. Through this it had greater opportunity to grab a much larger audience than the others.
It is also important that the official “version” of this event was for the most part supported (to the detriment of NTV) by the Communist press and met practically no resistance from the liberal press.
Why did this happen? During perestroika, the liberal publishers Nuikin, Batkin, Korotich and Kostikov, Leonid Zhukovitsky and Alexander Radzikhovsky didn’t leave any serious publication of the conservative, Communist, or nationalist press unanswered. Where are they now? Why wouldn’t they be heard (there was no reaction from the regional press) in connection with the events surrounding NTV?
Some have aged, others support the authorities, while others are doubtful that they would be understood today by the silent majority of the population, and therefore they wrote for their own audiences, who didn’t need any explanation, insofar as for them “the political subtext of these pursuits was completely obvious…”[22]
The emerging political climate in the country, in my opinion, was correctly described by the Astrakhan journalist: “The signs of stagnation in Russia, in politics as well as in economics—nearly a Brezhnev renaissance—have already been present a good six months. Glorification of the head of state has been revived. The political elite has practically closed itself off. The mass media are confidently attaching themselves to the power structure.”[23]
“Great Russia” and the Internet
State control of TV could politicize the Internet and bolster print media
by Ivan Zassoursky
Ivan Zassoursky is Director of the Laboratory of Media Culture and Communications at the Department of Journalism, Moscow State University.
The term “media-political system” defines precisely the meaning of “politics” in Russia of the 1990s. Government institutions were unstable and rootless while Boris Yeltsin provoked one political crisis after another; it was really the channels of access to audiences—specifically, television channels—that determined the outcomes of political battles.
When political scientists complained about the lack of a civilized party system in Russia—saying that the Communist Party was the only one with mass membership—they overlooked the fact that the real parties were the TV stations. It was with the help of television that Russia’s political drama was performed and a hierarchy of roles on the political stage established. Later, exactly a year before the elections, these roles became embodied in the brands of the parties and political movements for which the voters cast their votes: Union of Right Forces (SPS) and Yabloko—parties of NTV, Unity—the party of ORT, Fatherland—the party of TV-Center and some regional channels.
The real political parties in Russia were the TV stations.
This system was upheld by the government’s tolerance to the presence of powerful, at times even completely independent, players on the media-political landscape. This tolerance was based on history and utility. It was grounded in history because as a politician who acted on intuition, Yeltsin remembered times when only the journalists were on his side and that turned out to be enough. It was utilitarian because the political resources of the owners of media holdings inevitably became Yeltsin’s resources before the singularly important presidential elections in 1996.
During Putin’s election campaign, when it became evident that Chechnya would be an issue, it also became clear to everyone that the media-political system was changing and would not survive the next elections. In the last year the Russian president has already twice demonstrated his ignorance of the way media works, strolling along the Black Sea during the “Kursk” tragedy and giving a presidential address the day of the NTV seizure. It was Yeltsin’s team that made “Election 2000.” Putin is not charismatic—in order to control the symbolic field he has to depend on the bureaucratic system and on direct control of TV broadcasting.
The first sign of change was when TV-Center’s frequency opened up for competition; the second was eliminating Boris Berezovsky’s ability to influence the content of programming on Channel 1. The situation with NTV represents the final step in this transformation, after which the political field will come under the control of the administration to an even greater degree. For Russia, this development will conclude a long path backwards toward tradition. However, from the point of view of traditionalism, in my opinion, the blue license plates of the police cars, the ubiquitous symbol of past terror—all the way back to Ivan the Terrible’s oprichnina, Stalin’s NKVD and Brezhnev’s KGB—should be considered even more telling.
The clear intentions of the Kremlin to place under its control the central TV channels that are most important to the political process became clear as much with the help of direct pressure through law enforcement agencies as through the licensing mechanisms of television frequencies. In fact, a television or radio station can have its license revoked for any violation of the law (or even mere accusation of a violation). If the government does not alter this strategy, sooner or later it will attain full control over the federal TV stations, or at least the ability to sway their editorial policies at will. In this case, administration of these key instruments of influence over the media-political system will be consolidated under the aegis of the state; some observers would argue that this is the case already.
At the same time however, the sector of commercial print media that developed in the 1990s cannot be so easily subsumed under centralized control. A newspaper that has been closed down will reappear the next day under a different name with three times the circulation. Being profit-oriented assures the decentralized, more horizontal character of the media’s commercial sector. The appearance of competition from the less controllable electronic media serves as a guarantee that the transformation of the information system on the whole is irreversible.
If television is too harshly controlled, it is possible (although in no way guaranteed) that newspapers will receive specific competitive advantages and, accordingly, the opportunity at least to partially recover their former prestige as well as increase the circulation of their publications because of broad freedom in covering the political life of the country.
There are still other factors—the emergence of the Internet and the development of satellite television—that can with time lead to changes, including decreasing the importance of central television stations. Theoretically, it will take no less than five years for the influence of the Internet and satellite TV to become really noticeable in the information system; however on the whole it is probably not worth counting on the predictability of this transformation. After all, the events surrounding the submarine Kursk showed that by responding to the interests of the audience, the commercial mass media are, at times, capable of creating a real information flood. And, at critical moments the audience can exhibit unexpected flexibility in its choice of media for receiving information if the usual sources are blocked or incapable of feeding the hunger for burning news or, possibly, for analysis and commentary.
It is not impossible that harsh control of the information waves by the government could prompt the formation of something like the half-forgotten corporative solidarity of journalists at the end of the 1980s and beginning of the 1990s. In certain situations the total weight of the commercial press, Internet media, satellite television and regional TV stations could become an explosive combination rendering any attempts of the government to control the agenda of the day absolutely impossible and at times even dangerously counterproductive.
The results of the current transformation are obvious and also multifarious. In some senses the country is actually going backwards. Newspapers are loaded with dry discourse from the last century that is as impossible to read as it was to read Pravda in 1982. The capital’s leading publicists even managed to turn the dramatic NTV issue into a tedious story. While perhaps some professional publications are continuing to provide information, the majority of newspapers occupy themselves with the banalization of reality, either participating in the introduction of a new national idea or battling the ghost of “Great Russia.” In other words, the country’s press has once again become deeply provincial.
The changes are even more striking in television, especially if you break from habit and actually watch the program Vremya (Time) a few days in a row (this is by no means an intellectual’s choice, mind you). If Gosteleradio (State TV and Radio) had succeeded in depoliticizing television broadcasting owing to game shows, sports, and soap operas, we probably would have come to this state of emasculation and banality in the beginning of the 1990s. Have you ever heard how the broadcasters read the news on Radio Mayak? If not, hurry up and tune in. It is especially impressive at night: in between good jazz an ultra proper voice tells you everything you do not want to know about the trips of the president and other officials here there and everywhere.
This all goes to show that the results of the transformation are obvious. And now about why they are multifarious. Let us begin with an emotional factor: the content of the mass media today reeks of an unbelievable optimism. The media are becoming less and less informative and more and more ceremonial. In some senses this is not bad insofar as it lifts the weight of informational overload and kills off the desire to know, creating a sense of the stability of social reality. After all, even in the 1990s when the mass media seethed with intrigue, it was actually difficult if not impossible to influence the political process. Today, the government is once again taking on the responsibility to free citizens from participation in the political process. Possibly this explains why the government is popular.
Communications research sooner or later will come to the conclusion that the meaningful part of communication consists not in the exchange of new information but in the shielding from it. This is what the work of the mass media consists of today. The closing of the political field makes evident a complementary shift in the interests of mass media consumers to other areas (sports, recreation, film, comedy programs, culture and science). In reality it is difficult to say if it is good or bad when people root not for politicians but for soccer players, watch Morning Mail (Utrennaya Pochta, a music show), You’ve Got Lucky! (O Schastlivchik, like Who Wants to be a Millionaire), OSP (a parody show), or Ivanov’s program Around Laughter (Vokrug Smekha). Maybe this reality, firmly rooted in the dull but safe and calm late seventies/early eighties, is chosen because it is more familiar to us and allows us to relax in the breaks between our real problems that totally burden us between visits to the movie theater and entertaining literature.
In some senses the country is actually going backwards.
But it is important to mention something else. “Great Russia” is nothing more than a virtual reality, one of many, though marketed to a mass audience. In this sense, the true opposition to this reality is found not so much in the political system as much as in our everyday lives and in the medium that transmits this content best: the Internet.
In part (and only in part) this opposition is reminiscent of the contrast between semi-official publications (ofitsioz) and samizdat. Here the contradictions are deeper. If semi-official publications were connected with the construction of Soviet reality, then samizdat, whether political or pornographic, was nourished by the ideas of the West. The Internet differs in that it contains no competing ideologies, rather, an ideology that is not unequivocally expressed or formulated. The contrast between the media-political system and the Internet is one between different modes of social interaction: representation and communication. On the Net, one specific ideology does not stand in opposition to one other, but rather to thousands of others; they all exist simultaneously, expressed not as much in ideological terms as in concrete life projects. In this way, ideology stands in contrast to everydayness in all its variety. There is no truth; there is only reality, represented by individual or group feelings and interpretations. It is likely that, in time, this contradiction will begin to take a political shape. This will be especially apparent precisely if a new administration is actually successful at controlling the whole political field. Then politics will become much more important for the Net than is the case today, because the Net—along with print media—will begin to emulate an alternative information system, thus departing from its current “second-place syndrome,” thanks to the radical contrast between what is said on the Net and what they say on TV—just like in the good old days.
The views expressed by commentators in Russia Watch do not represent the views of the Strengthening Democratic Institutions Project, the Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs, the John F. Kennedy School of Government, or Harvard University.
This issue of Russia Watch was sent to press June 20, 2001.
Russia Watch editorial staff:
Editor, Writer: Ben Dunlap
Production Director: Melissa Carr
Section Editor: Emily Van Buskirk
Researcher: David Rekhviashvili
Researcher: David Pass
Production Assistant: Emily Goodhue
Consultant: Vladimir Boxer
Translators: Allison Gill, Roman Ilto, Tim Nikula
Special thanks to Vladimir Boxer, David Pass, and Seth Jaffe
The Strengthening Democratic Institutions Project works to catalyze support for three great transformations underway in Russia and the other countries of the former Soviet Union: to sustainable democracies, free market economies, and cooperative international relations. SDI seeks to understand these transformations, interpret them for Western audiences, identify Western stakes, and encourage initiatives that increase the likelihood of success. It provides targeted intellectual and technical assistance to governments, international agencies, private institutions, and individuals seeking to facilitate these three great transformations.
STRENGTHENING DEMOCRATIC INSTITUTIONS PROJECT
BELFER CENTER FOR SCIENCE AND INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS
JFK SCHOOL OF GOVERNMENT, HARVARD UNIVERSITY
79 JFK STREET CAMBRIDGE, MA 02138
Phone: (617) 496-1565 Fax: (617) 496-8779
Web site:
Email: SDIJFK@harvard.edu
( Copyright 2001 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College
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[1] This selection does not claim to be representative, nor does it allow for quantitative analysis. The materials were chosen for clarity of journalistic position and for the differences between the regions’ “main” (formerly “regional committee,” now gubernatorial papers, most often “Pravdas” and “Izvestias”) and other newspapers in seven administrative regions of Russia.
[2] Informational-political portal “Soviet Russia,” April 12, 2001. See also: The announcement of the union of orthodox citizens: “Orthodox citizens consider NTV the anti-government channel,” NTV.ru April 12, 2001.
[3] “Grebneva Again Went Hungry”. Ezhednevnie Novosti [Daily News] (Vladivostok) No. 53, April 13, 2001.
[4] Stanislav Kondrashev: “NTV in the Newspaper Style of Open Letters.” Vremya MN (Moscow) No.65, April 13, 2001. Leonid Zhukovitsky, Moscow. Special Report for “NKP”: Talent and KNOPKA Novaya Kamchatskaya Pravda (Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskii), No.14, April 12, 2001.
[5] Irina Sizova: “NTV Minus.” Ryazanskiye Vedomosti (Ryazan) No.72, April 10, 2001 Evgeny Zhogolev: “Around NTV. And Near.” Samarskiye Izvestia (Samara) No.65, April 10, 2001.
[6] Natalia Kopylova: “The Heart of the Matter” Zvezda (Perm’) No.65, April 11, 2001.
[7] Alexander Kosyakin: “In Russia There Already was ‘Freedom With Whiskers’.” Lipetskaya Gazeta (Lipetsk) No.69, April 11, 2001.
[8] Alexander Ryazanov: “Parliament should address NTV.” Novyi Gorod (Sugurt) April 11, 2001.
[9] Alexei Slabov: The President’s April Theses. Vest’ (Kaluga) No.83-85, April 6, 2001.
[10] O. Karpenko: The Passions Surrounding NTV. Vpered (Bataisk) No42-43, April 7, 2001.
[11] Dmitri Batarin: “Running an Endless Media Racket isn’t Possible for Long. It’s Time to Answer for Your Words.” Ezhenedelnik Monitor (Nizhny Novgorod) No.13, April 9, 2001.
[12] Elena Malysheva: “The Caprices of a Paid Prostitute” Pravda Severa (Archangelsk), No.66, April 10, 2001.
[13] Natalia Kopylova: “The Heart of the Matter,” Zvezda (Perm’) No.65, April 11, 2001
[14] Vladimir Samarin: “Gusinsky’s Shadow on the Flag of ‘Independence’.” Orlovsky Vestnik No.15 April 12, 2001
[15] Kirill Rogov: “Between Two Cons,” Vostochno-Sibirskaya Pravda (Irkutsk) No.68 April 11, 2001
[16] Vladimir Serov: “NTV and its ‘Voice of the People’.” Pravda Severa (Archangelsk) No.69 April 2001. In Russia there already was “Freedom with Whiskers” Lipetskaya Gazeta (Lipetsk) No.69, April 4, 2001. Vladimir Samarin: “Gusinsky’s Shadow on the Flag of ‘Independence’”; Stanislav Kondrashev: “NTV in the Newspaper Style of Open Letters”; Andrei Rumyantsev: “Well, The Huge Country is Standing in Defense of NTV!” Elena Malysheva: “The Caprices of the Paid Prostitute.”
[17] See Andrei Rumyantsev: “Well, The Huge Country is Standing in Defense of NTV!” Vek No.15 April 13, 2001
[18] Andrei Davydov: “Press-Kulbit”. Nashe Vremya (Rostov-na-Donu) No.71-72, April 10, 2001
[19] Alexei Jordan: “We Couldn’t Be Jews…” Zavtra (Moskva) No.15 April 12, 2001
[20] Vladimir Serov: “NTV and its ‘Voice of the People’.”
[21] Internet: WCIOM.RU May 3, 2001
[22] “They Want to Return Us to Silence” Pskovskaya Guberniya (Pskov) No.15 April 12, 2001. This address, in the most part to the capital’s intelligentsia, was delivered in a series of regional newspapers of liberal bent, including this publication (Author’s Note)
[23] A. Vasilyev: “Are We Only Dreaming of Stagnation?” Volga (Astrakhan’ No.54, April 12, 2001.
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ORT RTR NTV TV-6 TV-C Kultura STS TNT Ren-TV AST MTV Mus-TV
|ORT |98 |
|RTR |95 |
|NTV |72 |
|TV-6 |58 |
|TV-Center |39 |
|Kultura |36 |
|STS |35 |
|TNT |32 |
|Ren-TV |27 |
|AST |13 |
|MTV |12 |
|Mus-TV |11 |
Ben Dunlap, Editor
Editorial Staff: Melissa Carr, Vladimir Boxer, Emily Van Buskirk, David Rekhviashvili, Emily Goodhue
Graham T. Allison, Director
Strengthening Democratic Institutions Project
John F. Kennedy School of Government
Harvard University
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Gazprom-Media’s Alfred Kokh asserts the case against NTV was economic, not political. See his article on page 19.
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