Honored Pensioner

October 2001

Vladimir MIKHEYEV London—Moscow Back translation by Gennady SOSNIN

Sir Andrew Wood: “The phrase ‘One won’t grasp Russia with his wit’ is quite to the liking of lazy foreigners”

The host was very considerate explaining to me how to get to his home in North London. First with the “tube” (as the local residents call the subway), then with the bus and then “cross the street only with the green light on, lest—God forbid—you should be run over.”

“When you see the sign ‘Repair in progress’ (Sir Andrew WOOD, formerly Her Majesty’s Ambassador to Russia, says the words na remonte in Russian), this means you’ve reached your destination. Our home is constantly under repair.”

“Just like the 15-year-old perestroika in Russia?”

“Right. Something like that.”

“Thank you, Ambassador.”

“I’m not an ambassador (the voice betrays the whole gamut of subdued emotions). I’m… (switching over to Russian) zasluzhennyi pensioner (‘honored pensioner’).”

The two-story house differs little from its likes in the neighborhood: a neatly trimmed lawn at the entrance, a kitchen door on the side, a bay window in the living room, and a tiny garden at the rear porch. As to its size, the cottage is not a match for the ambassadorial residence on Sofiyskaya Embankment opposite the Kremlin’s gold-domed cathedrals. Nor Sir Andrew Wood, who left Moscow on January 3, 2000, on reaching the limit age, particularly cared for his earlier accommodation. According to the regulations of Her Majesty’s diplomatic department, the staff members who turn 60, may not continue their service for any single day. Moreover, the British law on state secrets forbids the ambassadors to keep a diary. (“Although there is a way of confiding one’s most intimate thoughts to paper,” Sir Andrew says smilingly, “which is writing letters to mummy.”) These “after-comments” are all the more valuable because they are made by a man, who knows both Russian history and Russian people not just by hearsay but from the inside.

Sir Andrew presented his credentials to President Yeltsin in the Kremlin. Then, the silence of the boundless lobbies, which left, as he says, “the sense of isolation from the rest of the world”, was engraved forever in his memory. In association with this fact, he recalled another episode: one of the “Kremlin’s wives” once pointedly characterized a prominent politician as follows: “He is so naive as if he had grown up in the Kremlin.” However, the Ambassador himself discretely abstained from the invitation “to give everyone involved a whipping,” although he could tell a lot about Filatov, Satarov, Yumashev, Chubays, and Berezovsky. A diplomat remains a diplomat. Nevertheless, Sir Andrew yielded to the temptation of answering the question that became sacramental to Western Kremlinologists: “Who Is Putin?”

“The blind accident and the good fortune play an important part in history. And yet, Putin’s emergence on the political proscenium is not accidental. He has an advantage in that he is comparatively young, represents a young generation and didn’t have the possibility of disappointing anyone in a big way. As a head of State, he faces the objective task of moving along the path of market reforms. The moment is coming closer, however, when he will have to clash with the economic interests of his fellow citizens, for instance, in conducting a reform of housing and municipal services. Mr. Putin will have to stand a real test when he starts separating State and business and establishing single and reasonable rules of the game to be followed by all entrepreneurs.”

—Has Russia radically changed since the beginning of the reforms launched by Mikhail Gorbachev, or—in your opinion of a Western diplomat—is the saying justified to the effect that the more everything changes, the more everything remains as it was?

—In a certain sense all has changed. I talk to many Russians, including my friends, who are nostalgic for Soviet times and proud of many things in their previous life. This is quite logical. The British will understand me correctly, because the changes in Russia are comparable to what we went through. It being, today’s Russia to me is a country that has much more opportunities for healthy growth. Unfortunately, not all of the changes are for the good. Indeed, it is saddening that legislation is inconsistent and the laws are not respected. Nevertheless, people in present-day Russia are for the first time aware that they are masters of their own fate.

—You left Russia when it was in a better shape than at the time you had arrived to head the mission. Is it correct?

—Your question calls for a finely nuanced reply. I’ll have to make comparisons with the expectations. Against the background of a fairly naive optimism with regard to the pace of change in Russia, the situation is worse in some respects: unfortunately, in the wake of the 1995-1996 elections, the opportunity to build a more structured and dynamic system was missed.

The first Chechen war constituted a serious threat. Regrettably, the peace period was not used—I don’t specify by whom precisely it was not used—to create a more stable society. The present conflict may become very costly and dangerous to the Russian State. On the other hand, I consider it a major success of democracy that a quiet and orderly change of leaders has taken place. Over the last five years, we have been witnessing a clearly formulated agenda. Civil society elements are appearing, and the Russians are beginning to realize what—the way we the British construe it—‘fair play’ is, namely, a code of generally accepted concepts of what is good and what is bad.

I don’t want my assessments to sound condescending. Throughout all my life, I have been able to observe how Britain itself was changing in this changing world. I was born in Gibraltar, my father was a navy officer, who wound up his career as general staff chief of the Nigerian army. Over the last period, a lot has changed for Britain—today, we are linking our destiny with that of single Europe. We have gone through rough times: our shipbuilding has practically disappeared, our steel industry has dwindled down, our mines have been closed, and our leadership in textile production is a thing of the past. All this produced social tension in society. Therefore, when I’m saying that Russia should change, I’m saying this on the basis of my own experience.

—What are you missing in your life after your departure from Moscow?

—It’s socializing with interesting Russian people and a special privilege to be part of the Muscovites’ cultural scene. Before leaving, my wife, an ardent ballet devotee, was awarded the diploma ‘For the Support of Artists’ that was handed over by the-then artistic director of the Bolshoi Theater Vladimir Vasilyev.

—You are known to be a bibliophile who has a fine feeling for both classical and modern Russian literature. What did you happen to read in the recent years?

—I was reading Edward Radzinsky; I found his book on Stalin particularly useful. At the time being, I’m familiarizing myself with Ivan Chonkin, Vladimir Voinovich’s character. Besides, I’ve reread Anna Karenina.”

—Anna Karenina?

—Anatoly Adamishin, former Russian ambassador to London, asked me how to translate vsyo obrazuyetsya (“everything will be all right”) into English. I think this purely Russian expression doesn’t lend itself to an adequate translation… When I first read this novel by Tolstoy, I was sixteen, and I didn’t like it. I thought Anna was too silly and Vronsky utterly cold. Now that I’ve grown older and am married, I see the man-woman relationship in a totally different light. Or take War and Peace—;Sofya Tolstaya copied fourteen times this magnificent work, whereas I myself have read it only five times.

—After you have reread Tolstoy, do you share the widely spread opinion to the effect that Russia—with all its revolutionary and evolutionary changes—still retains its birthmark: irrationality as a counterweight to rationality?

—I’m ready to argue that the Russians do not hold the monopoly of irrationality. The British also pay tribute to all sorts of follies. And then, I don’t accept the aphoristic nature of the line “One won’t grasp Russia with his wit”—this is the lot of lazy foreigners. I admit, however, that Russian culture and history leave their imprint on today’s Russia. This is not predetermined genetically, though. One lesson that I have learned in Russia is this: the Russians have more emotionality and generosity “in store” than the British have.

—They say emotionality is our most vulnerable spot, evidence of our psychological immaturity that generates naivety…

—One thing is to possess sensual nature, and another thing is to be guided in one’s actions only by feelings. I discovered that irony considered to be “a typically English disease,” is easily and readily accepted in Russia. In many countries, including Western nations, you should be very cautious with irony. In Russia, however, people are very quick at it.