Meanwhile: A snapshot from Krasnodar
FRIDAY, MAY 27, 2005

WASHINGTON On a recent visit to Krasnodar, in southern Russia, my father and I were arrested by the Federal Security Service, or FSB, the new version of the secret police. Our three hours in FSB custody evoked dark shadows of the Soviet past as well as moments out of the Keystone Kops. Krasnodar also revealed the complexity of today’s Russia.

I had gone there to meet my father, 88, who had just been in Moscow for the 60th anniversary of V-E Day. Reared in Krasnodar, he was a Red Army soldier who got out of the Soviet Union as a prisoner of war. After World War II he managed to avoid forced repatriation, a common fate of Soviet refugees in the hands of Stalin’s wartime allies. He emigrated to America and later served in the U.S. Army in the Korean War.

One of the ironies of the incident was that we were detained while strolling on the same sidewalk where his father had been arrested in 1942 by the NKVD, Stalin’s secret police. In the old phrase, my grandfather, a genetic biologist, was "repressed" as an "enemy of the people." He was officially "rehabilitated" by the Russian authorities only last year, meaning that they finally admitted his arrest had been baseless.

Thus, in a bizarre twist of recidivism, three generations of our family had ended up in the same secret police building. But unlike my grandfather, who perished in custody, my father and I got off lightly.

Our supposed offense was to snap a couple of photographs of the police building. Our interrogators explained, "You should know about the extraordinary security situation in the Northern Caucasus."

Things started out ominously, with a threat to lock us up for two to 15 days pending an investigation. We were interrogated jointly and separately, videotaped, and then asked to write statements in Russian.

At some point before our U.S. passports were returned, the FSB must have figured out that we posed no security threat. An Internet search or a call to Moscow may have established that I was a former U.S. official.

How this last factor would cut in the immediate aftermath of the arrest of a former Russian atomic energy minister in Switzerland was anybody’s guess. The deeper question is what happens to detainees without foreign credentials.

Perhaps most striking about our conversations with the FSB officers was their desire to learn more about shifting U.S. attitudes toward Russia. Why, they asked, had America turned against Russia? Was a new cold war starting?

My father and I tried to allay their fears and also to explain that there was growing concern internationally about President Vladimir Putin’s apparent loss of direction: the democratic drift, abuse of law and media chill.

Our brief session with the panicky FSB ended with polite smiles, but no apologies. The rest of our visit to Krasnodar was a pleasant surprise.

Krasnodar (the Soviet-era name means "red gift") was founded in 1794 as Ekaterinodar by Catherine the Great. It was an outpost of the Russian Empire on the Black Sea frontier with the Ottomans. Today Krasnodar, the regional capital, has more than a million inhabitants.

The city needs a major facelift. But it was also bubbling with signs of a new middle class. Decent restaurants had popped up, the stores were full of global brands and cars jammed the roads. Thousands of people ambled down the main streets enjoying a balmy, festive weekend. Looking at them, it was only possible to believe that they wanted to live in a "normal" country.

This spirit of common sense has helped Russians avoid many potential disasters - civil war, disintegration, Communist restoration - since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Despite disappointments and hardships, a pragmatic resilience, aided by resource wealth, has sustained the country.

In many ways Russia remains far from normal. It seems to be suffering from a wicked post-imperial hangover: There is, for example, no excuse for the miserable conflict in Chechnya. Nevertheless, a visit to Krasnodar is also a reminder of the vast Eurasian ethnic mix that has long been able to live together in peace.

It was Empress Catherine - born a German princess - who decreed in 1767 that "Russia is a European state." Fulfillment of her enlightened ambition has eluded Russia for a couple of centuries. But there is some basis for hope that Russia may yet overcome its arrested development.

(Mark Medish served on the U.S. National Security Council as senior director for Russian, Ukrainian and Eurasian Affairs, 2000-2001. )
WASHINGTON On a recent visit to Krasnodar, in southern Russia, my father and I were arrested by the Federal Security Service, or FSB, the new version of the secret police. Our three hours in FSB custody evoked dark shadows of the Soviet past as well as moments out of the Keystone Kops. Krasnodar also revealed the complexity of today’s Russia.

I had gone there to meet my father, 88, who had just been in Moscow for the 60th anniversary of V-E Day. Reared in Krasnodar, he was a Red Army soldier who got out of the Soviet Union as a prisoner of war. After World War II he managed to avoid forced repatriation, a common fate of Soviet refugees in the hands of Stalin’s wartime allies. He emigrated to America and later served in the U.S. Army in the Korean War.

One of the ironies of the incident was that we were detained while strolling on the same sidewalk where his father had been arrested in 1942 by the NKVD, Stalin’s secret police. In the old phrase, my grandfather, a genetic biologist, was "repressed" as an "enemy of the people." He was officially "rehabilitated" by the Russian authorities only last year, meaning that they finally admitted his arrest had been baseless.

Thus, in a bizarre twist of recidivism, three generations of our family had ended up in the same secret police building. But unlike my grandfather, who perished in custody, my father and I got off lightly.

Our supposed offense was to snap a couple of photographs of the police building. Our interrogators explained, "You should know about the extraordinary security situation in the Northern Caucasus."

Things started out ominously, with a threat to lock us up for two to 15 days pending an investigation. We were interrogated jointly and separately, videotaped, and then asked to write statements in Russian.

At some point before our U.S. passports were returned, the FSB must have figured out that we posed no security threat. An Internet search or a call to Moscow may have established that I was a former U.S. official.

How this last factor would cut in the immediate aftermath of the arrest of a former Russian atomic energy minister in Switzerland was anybody’s guess. The deeper question is what happens to detainees without foreign credentials.

Perhaps most striking about our conversations with the FSB officers was their desire to learn more about shifting U.S. attitudes toward Russia. Why, they asked, had America turned against Russia? Was a new cold war starting?

My father and I tried to allay their fears and also to explain that there was growing concern internationally about President Vladimir Putin’s apparent loss of direction: the democratic drift, abuse of law and media chill.

Our brief session with the panicky FSB ended with polite smiles, but no apologies. The rest of our visit to Krasnodar was a pleasant surprise.

Krasnodar (the Soviet-era name means "red gift") was founded in 1794 as Ekaterinodar by Catherine the Great. It was an outpost of the Russian Empire on the Black Sea frontier with the Ottomans. Today Krasnodar, the regional capital, has more than a million inhabitants.

The city needs a major facelift. But it was also bubbling with signs of a new middle class. Decent restaurants had popped up, the stores were full of global brands and cars jammed the roads. Thousands of people ambled down the main streets enjoying a balmy, festive weekend. Looking at them, it was only possible to believe that they wanted to live in a "normal" country.

This spirit of common sense has helped Russians avoid many potential disasters - civil war, disintegration, Communist restoration - since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Despite disappointments and hardships, a pragmatic resilience, aided by resource wealth, has sustained the country.

In many ways Russia remains far from normal. It seems to be suffering from a wicked post-imperial hangover: There is, for example, no excuse for the miserable conflict in Chechnya. Nevertheless, a visit to Krasnodar is also a reminder of the vast Eurasian ethnic mix that has long been able to live together in peace.

It was Empress Catherine - born a German princess - who decreed in 1767 that "Russia is a European state." Fulfillment of her enlightened ambition has eluded Russia for a couple of centuries. But there is some basis for hope that Russia may yet overcome its arrested development.

(Mark Medish served on the U.S. National Security Council as senior director for Russian, Ukrainian and Eurasian Affairs, 2000-2001. )
WASHINGTON On a recent visit to Krasnodar, in southern Russia, my father and I were arrested by the Federal Security Service, or FSB, the new version of the secret police. Our three hours in FSB custody evoked dark shadows of the Soviet past as well as moments out of the Keystone Kops. Krasnodar also revealed the complexity of today’s Russia.

I had gone there to meet my father, 88, who had just been in Moscow for the 60th anniversary of V-E Day. Reared in Krasnodar, he was a Red Army soldier who got out of the Soviet Union as a prisoner of war. After World War II he managed to avoid forced repatriation, a common fate of Soviet refugees in the hands of Stalin’s wartime allies. He emigrated to America and later served in the U.S. Army in the Korean War.

One of the ironies of the incident was that we were detained while strolling on the same sidewalk where his father had been arrested in 1942 by the NKVD, Stalin’s secret police. In the old phrase, my grandfather, a genetic biologist, was "repressed" as an "enemy of the people." He was officially "rehabilitated" by the Russian authorities only last year, meaning that they finally admitted his arrest had been baseless.

Thus, in a bizarre twist of recidivism, three generations of our family had ended up in the same secret police building. But unlike my grandfather, who perished in custody, my father and I got off lightly.

Our supposed offense was to snap a couple of photographs of the police building. Our interrogators explained, "You should know about the extraordinary security situation in the Northern Caucasus."

Things started out ominously, with a threat to lock us up for two to 15 days pending an investigation. We were interrogated jointly and separately, videotaped, and then asked to write statements in Russian.

At some point before our U.S. passports were returned, the FSB must have figured out that we posed no security threat. An Internet search or a call to Moscow may have established that I was a former U.S. official.

How this last factor would cut in the immediate aftermath of the arrest of a former Russian atomic energy minister in Switzerland was anybody’s guess. The deeper question is what happens to detainees without foreign credentials.

Perhaps most striking about our conversations with the FSB officers was their desire to learn more about shifting U.S. attitudes toward Russia. Why, they asked, had America turned against Russia? Was a new cold war starting?

My father and I tried to allay their fears and also to explain that there was growing concern internationally about President Vladimir Putin’s apparent loss of direction: the democratic drift, abuse of law and media chill.

Our brief session with the panicky FSB ended with polite smiles, but no apologies. The rest of our visit to Krasnodar was a pleasant surprise.

Krasnodar (the Soviet-era name means "red gift") was founded in 1794 as Ekaterinodar by Catherine the Great. It was an outpost of the Russian Empire on the Black Sea frontier with the Ottomans. Today Krasnodar, the regional capital, has more than a million inhabitants.

The city needs a major facelift. But it was also bubbling with signs of a new middle class. Decent restaurants had popped up, the stores were full of global brands and cars jammed the roads. Thousands of people ambled down the main streets enjoying a balmy, festive weekend. Looking at them, it was only possible to believe that they wanted to live in a "normal" country.

This spirit of common sense has helped Russians avoid many potential disasters - civil war, disintegration, Communist restoration - since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Despite disappointments and hardships, a pragmatic resilience, aided by resource wealth, has sustained the country.

In many ways Russia remains far from normal. It seems to be suffering from a wicked post-imperial hangover: There is, for example, no excuse for the miserable conflict in Chechnya. Nevertheless, a visit to Krasnodar is also a reminder of the vast Eurasian ethnic mix that has long been able to live together in peace.

It was Empress Catherine - born a German princess - who decreed in 1767 that "Russia is a European state." Fulfillment of her enlightened ambition has eluded Russia for a couple of centuries. But there is some basis for hope that Russia may yet overcome its arrested development.

(Mark Medish served on the U.S. National Security Council as senior director for Russian, Ukrainian and Eurasian Affairs, 2000-2001. )
WASHINGTON On a recent visit to Krasnodar, in southern Russia, my father and I were arrested by the Federal Security Service, or FSB, the new version of the secret police. Our three hours in FSB custody evoked dark shadows of the Soviet past as well as moments out of the Keystone Kops. Krasnodar also revealed the complexity of today’s Russia.

I had gone there to meet my father, 88, who had just been in Moscow for the 60th anniversary of V-E Day. Reared in Krasnodar, he was a Red Army soldier who got out of the Soviet Union as a prisoner of war. After World War II he managed to avoid forced repatriation, a common fate of Soviet refugees in the hands of Stalin’s wartime allies. He emigrated to America and later served in the U.S. Army in the Korean War.

One of the ironies of the incident was that we were detained while strolling on the same sidewalk where his father had been arrested in 1942 by the NKVD, Stalin’s secret police. In the old phrase, my grandfather, a genetic biologist, was "repressed" as an "enemy of the people." He was officially "rehabilitated" by the Russian authorities only last year, meaning that they finally admitted his arrest had been baseless.

Thus, in a bizarre twist of recidivism, three generations of our family had ended up in the same secret police building. But unlike my grandfather, who perished in custody, my father and I got off lightly.

Our supposed offense was to snap a couple of photographs of the police building. Our interrogators explained, "You should know about the extraordinary security situation in the Northern Caucasus."

Things started out ominously, with a threat to lock us up for two to 15 days pending an investigation. We were interrogated jointly and separately, videotaped, and then asked to write statements in Russian.

At some point before our U.S. passports were returned, the FSB must have figured out that we posed no security threat. An Internet search or a call to Moscow may have established that I was a former U.S. official.

How this last factor would cut in the immediate aftermath of the arrest of a former Russian atomic energy minister in Switzerland was anybody’s guess. The deeper question is what happens to detainees without foreign credentials.

Perhaps most striking about our conversations with the FSB officers was their desire to learn more about shifting U.S. attitudes toward Russia. Why, they asked, had America turned against Russia? Was a new cold war starting?

My father and I tried to allay their fears and also to explain that there was growing concern internationally about President Vladimir Putin’s apparent loss of direction: the democratic drift, abuse of law and media chill.

Our brief session with the panicky FSB ended with polite smiles, but no apologies. The rest of our visit to Krasnodar was a pleasant surprise.

Krasnodar (the Soviet-era name means "red gift") was founded in 1794 as Ekaterinodar by Catherine the Great. It was an outpost of the Russian Empire on the Black Sea frontier with the Ottomans. Today Krasnodar, the regional capital, has more than a million inhabitants.

The city needs a major facelift. But it was also bubbling with signs of a new middle class. Decent restaurants had popped up, the stores were full of global brands and cars jammed the roads. Thousands of people ambled down the main streets enjoying a balmy, festive weekend. Looking at them, it was only possible to believe that they wanted to live in a "normal" country.

This spirit of common sense has helped Russians avoid many potential disasters - civil war, disintegration, Communist restoration - since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Despite

Mark Medish International Herald Tribune

FRIDAY, MAY 27, 2005
http://www.iht.com/articles/2005/05/26/opinion/edmedish.php
http://www.headway.us/read.php?i=801