A-Infos (en) Italy, Sicilia Libertaria #470 - PUTIN'S RUSSIA. Impressions of an Accidental Tourist (ca, de, it, pt, tr)[machine translation]

Back in the 1980s, after finally obtaining a passport, denied to me for 
many years by the state police, I made four trips to the countries of 
so-called "real socialism." The first was Albania, the second was Moscow 
and Leningrad, the third was Yugoslavia, and the last was Soviet 
Georgia. Already with that first trip, I was solidified in my conviction 
that "real socialism" had very little to do with socialism and that in 
reality those regimes embodied the apotheosis of the despotic power of a 
single party, with a new class of boyars holding the country in its 
grip. So-called "proletarian power" did not exist, and the working class 
was a subaltern class with no ability to influence political and 
economic decisions. Police and military control was evident and 
suffocating, individual and collective freedoms severely limited. In 
those years of harsh confrontation, including military, between the 
capitalist West and the "socialist" East, I considered the Soviet Union 
regime imperialist (to distinguish it from the American one, we called 
it social-imperialist). The austerity of customs, the scarcity of 
consumer goods, the evident poverty (especially in Albania and 
Yugoslavia), the severe restrictions on people's movement, even within 
the same country, meant that model of society was not the least bit 
appealing to us young anti-capitalists and libertarians.
After the events of 1989, I visited the Czech Republic, cities of the 
former GDR, Croatia, Bosnia, Hungary, and Slovenia. Countries where 
there is no longer any trace of the old socialist regimes, but where 
significant class inequalities are evident. At first glance, one can 
perceive, on the one hand, the presence of a class of super-rich boyars, 
on the other, a multitude of new poor, beggars and homeless, social 
outcasts.
Taking advantage of an invitation from close friends who work in Moscow, 
I seized the opportunity and decided to visit the country that was once 
the Soviets as it is today.
Western sanctions against Russia after the invasion of Ukraine are 
creating the first difficulties. Western credit cards and our phone SIM 
cards don't work in Russia.
Direct flights to Russia are disrupted. Aeroflot no longer flies from 
Western airports. To get to Moscow, the options are via Belgrade, Minsk, 
Yerevan, or Istanbul.
After much research, we choose Turkish Airlines, which has a flight from 
Palermo to Moscow with a stopover in Istanbul.
To buy the plane ticket, we have to split the flight between Palermo and 
Istanbul and Istanbul and Moscow.
Due to sanctions, a direct flight to Russia from Italy is not possible.
However, we manage to book the return ticket from St. Petersburg to 
Palermo without any problems.
On May 7th, at 9:30 a.m., Mary and I take off from Palermo for Istanbul.
We preferred to leave plenty of time between our arrival in Istanbul and 
our departure for Moscow, as we didn't have a combined Palermo-Moscow 
ticket. We arrived in Istanbul at 12:00 (1:00 PM local time), with 
departure for Moscow scheduled for 6:30 PM (7:30 PM local time).
We waited several hours, perhaps in the largest airport in the world, 
with distances of several kilometers between gates. In addition to being 
the largest in the world, Istanbul airport is also the most expensive in 
terms of food.
We waited a long time for the departure gate to be announced, and when 
it appeared on the monitors, we learned that there was a two-hour delay. 
Turkish Airlines provided us with meal vouchers. We ate dinner, but 
suddenly the news came that boarding had begun, so we rushed to the gate 
(a few kilometers away). When we arrived at the gate, there were many 
people, many Russians and a few Turks. We and two others were the only 
Italians. We waited almost an hour, and then finally boarded. After 
about twenty minutes of sitting on the plane, the order comes to 
disembark and return to the airport. Is Moscow closed? No definite news.
We all go out and wait at the gate waiting for instructions. After about 
fifteen minutes, the counter-order comes to re-board the plane. There's 
total chaos, but maybe we're off.
We wait on the tarmac for almost an hour, but then we're actually off to 
Moscow. I follow the flight on the plane's monitor and see that we're 
approaching Moscow, but to my surprise, I notice the plane turning and 
returning to its departure trajectory. We're returning to Istanbul. 
Moscow's skies have been closed to air traffic. It's the eve of May 9th, 
the celebration of the victory over Nazi-fascism, and there may be a 
danger of Ukrainian drones.
At 5:00, we land back in Istanbul, tensions are sky-high. Everyone out. 
What will happen now? Will we return to Palermo? Will they put us up in 
a hotel in Istanbul? None of this happened. At the gate, we were called 
by name and given a new boarding pass for 8:30.
At 8:30, we set off again, and finally, at noon, we landed in Moscow, 
exhausted but happy, after nearly 30 hours of travel.
Border checks were standard. We lined up with many migrant workers from 
the former Soviet republics. But everything was very quiet; a few 
minutes later, we were in Russia.
At the airport, we met our friend. With her, we took the metro to the 
city center and, after a transfer, got off at the Smolenskaya station, 
near Arbat Street, right in the center of Moscow. It's a monumental, 
Stalinist-style Soviet metro system, with many red stars, hammers and 
sickles, and statues of partisans.
The afternoon was rainy, and the city was semi-deserted, but decorated 
with Russian flags, black and orange St. George ribbons, and red flags 
for Victory Day on May 9th.
To our surprise, our friends invited us to dinner at a small Ukrainian 
restaurant, where we ate well and where "Katyusha" (the tune from the 
partisan song "Fischia il Vento") was played and sung in our honor.
The next day, May 9th, we exchanged euros for rubles. For one euro, we 
got 91 rubles, so a ruble today is worth 91 euro cents. I remember that 
in 1984, a ruble at the official exchange rate was worth one US dollar, 
and at the black market, one dollar was worth four rubles.
Driving around Moscow, we passed convoys of cars with Russian flags and 
red ones with hammer and sickle symbols. Everything was very orderly. 
The city seemed peaceful, with lots of well-dressed people on the 
streets. Not a single homeless person in sight. There were many young 
people, and we passed many talented street musicians. Lots of large cars 
with Chinese brands. But also many BMWs, Mercedeses, Porsches, and Ferraris.
Even though the main roads had up to eight lanes, traffic was heavy and 
slow. Gasoline was very cheap.
The city is beautiful and vibrant, marked by the architecture of seven 
tower blocks built in Stalinist Gothic style: a blend of Russian 
Baroque, neoclassical, and Gothic elements, with a clear influence from 
the New York skyscrapers of the 1930s.
At first glance, it seems that everything is running smoothly, that the 
acute crisis of the Yeltsin era has largely been overcome. The shops are 
overflowing with merchandise, mostly Western, despite the embargo, and 
the prices are very similar to those in the West. Stores that were once 
"Soviet" and popular, like GUM and SUM, are now high-end boutiques 
filled with boutiques selling Western brands, from Christian Dior to 
Luisa Spagnoli, Chanel, and other Western luxury brands (again despite 
the embargo). The presence of an affluent bourgeoisie, capable of 
spending large sums with ease, is clearly perceptible.
Mid-range restaurants have prices similar to ours, but there are still 
numerous Soviet-style dining rooms, open 24 hours a day, where you can 
enjoy a hearty lunch for six or seven euros (700 or 800 rubles).
In addition to numerous parks, the city is dotted with theaters, gyms, 
and dance halls. Pensioners here receive significant discounts on 
tickets and season tickets.
Efficient service is also supported by the use of robots that meet on 
the streets for home delivery. Robots are also being used to replace 
staff at coffee and ice cream kiosks.
Talking with our friends, we learn that Russia has a labor shortage, and 
that migrants from former Soviet countries are being hired to keep the 
country running, and the use of robots is constantly increasing. Added 
to this, the services, museums, and public transportation are full of 
staff who ensure the public machine runs with great efficiency.
Even though there is heavy traffic on the streets, we are witnessing the 
remarkably efficient public transportation of buses, taxis, and the 
metro. The Moscow metro is the third largest in the world, only recently 
surpassed by those in Beijing and Shanghai. Trains run only every 50 
seconds, and are always full. This efficiency is quite astonishing.
The streets are constantly cleaned with soap and water several times a day.
The services function perfectly.
Aside from the numerous posters featuring the letter Z in the colors of 
the St. George's ribbon, the war with Ukraine is completely invisible. 
There is little military or police presence on the streets. But what is 
striking is the absence of Western tourists. The only tourists we 
encounter are Chinese, Indian, and, of course, Russian. The tourism 
sector is the one suffering the most from the sanctions.
This allows us to visit museums and monuments without the anguish of 
booking tickets or waiting in lines.
I won't deny the emotion of visiting the sites of the 1917 revolution, 
of visiting the prison in the Peter and Paul Fortress where Kropotkin, 
Bakunin, Dostoevsky, Alexander Ilyich Ulyanov, and other revolutionary 
figures were imprisoned, a testament to the great maturity of the 
Russian revolutionary movement by the mid-19th century. It was so moving 
to travel through the sites of the anti-Nazi resistance and the long 
siege of Leningrad. The Kremlin, the Winter Palace Square, Kronstadt, 
and the cruiser Aurora cannot fail to leave us indifferent. Even if it's 
heartbreaking to see how events unfolded: from the Bolsheviks' capture 
of the Winter Palace, to the actual disempowerment of the soviets, to 
the establishment of a single-party dictatorship, to the ferocious 
repression of any movement to the left of the Bolshevik party, to the 
war with Nazi Germany, dubbed a Patriotic War in defiance of proletarian 
internationalism.
Both Moscow and St. Petersburg are beautiful cities, the people are 
kind, and the atmosphere is cheerful and carefree. The museums are 
filled with works of art, testifying to the Russian sensitivity to beauty.
War is truly far away. The Putin government's strategy of sending 
professional soldiers, prisoners, well-paid mercenaries recruited from 
the countryside, and countless others from Africa, North Korea, and many 
poor countries to the front distances the tragedy of war from ordinary 
citizens.
Great Russian pride, nationalist redemption after the collapse following 
the dissolution of the USSR and the period of great devastation during 
the Yeltsin era, and the country's economic resurgence have cemented the 
power of the predatory oligarchy, whose greatest political expression is 
Putin.
What is clear is that we are in an advanced capitalist system where 
state control over individuals is an essential part of maintaining 
oligarchic power. Every street, every square, every museum, every 
subway, every public transportation system is constantly monitored by a 
dense system of cameras. You don't see many police officers on the 
streets, but people are constantly monitored remotely. Police control is 
counterbalanced by a functioning welfare state and the efficiency of the 
state machinery, which is congenial to providing security to the 
population. A populist policy that creates consensus around the 
autocrat, the strongman.
The efficiency of the administrative and social machinery, beyond what 
we perceived in the centers of Moscow and St. Petersburg, was also 
evident in the suburbs, where we traveled, sometimes more than 30 
kilometers from the center. Here too, orderly streets, well-dressed 
people, well-maintained residential buildings, and well-organized and 
reasonably priced markets.
The Russia we visited is openly an advanced capitalist country, 
showcasing its productive capacity and wealth. A Russia far removed from 
the former Soviet Union, where the nouveau riche race in roaring 
Ferraris along the Nevsky Prospect of what was once Leningrad, where 
wine in restaurants costs an arm and a leg but flows freely, and where 
to enter Peterhof Park in St. Petersburg (crowded with Russians) 
requires a hefty 2,000 rubles (about 22 euros) admission fee. Today's 
Russia is clearly moving toward reclaiming its position as a global 
power, both economically and militarily, dusting off the glories of the 
Tsarist era, while still retaining Stalin, considered the victor of the 
Great Patriotic War. "Socialism" in Russia has been relegated to an icon 
of a past that will never return, in a present capitalist economy where 
the strong and authoritarian state stands as the regulator of everything.

Renato Franzitta

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