The Future Is History: How Totalitarianism Reclaimed Russia

"We have to leave the country," she said. "We are getting off the tram." Her plan was to go directly to the passport office and, rather

than apply for a new passport for Masha, have her name added to Tatiana's passport. Then they would go directly to the American embassy, where, rumor had it, anyone could get a visa just for showing up. Then they would leave the country.

The woman at the passport office refused the request and refused a bribe too. Her boss said, "Come back in a week." It was all over: there was no point in even applying for a passport for Masha. They left.

They could not go home. It had been nearly two years since Tatiana managed to get rid of their flatmate, so the apartment was no longer a communal one; Tatiana and Masha had its two rooms and a kitchen all to themselves, but now Tatiana was being harassed by the reketiry—a new Russian word that meant "racketeers"—a mafia in the making that was trying to ride on the coattails of private enterprise in the making. Most of these guys ran primitive protection rackets, promising to be the krysha—cover—that would shield you from others like them. Lately they had established a permanent post outside Tatiana's apartment door. She did not want to go there with her child, so they went to Tatiana's parents' apartment instead.

In the empty apartment, Tatiana turned on the television. Swan Lake, the ballet, was on. She changed the channel. Swan Lake. This was boring. Masha went outside into the courtyard and played with a boy named Vitalik.

at six and at eight that morning, when the radio and television channels resumed programming after their nightly break, a familiar male voice had come on the air and said, "A decree of the vice- president of the USSR. In light of the inability, for health reasons, of Mikhail Sergeevich Gorbachev to carry out his duties as president of the USSR . . . the vice-president of the USSR, Yanaev, has taken over the duties of the president of the USSR as of August 19, 1991." Then the anchor read two addresses to the people of the USSR from people who called themselves "the Soviet leadership." First came a dry one, announcing a state of emergency effective at four that afternoon. Then came an impassioned one:

Countrymen! Citizens of the USSR!

It is at a critical hour for the fate of the Motherland and our peoples that we address you! A deadly danger is looming over our great Motherland! Reforms initiated by M. S. Gorbachev . . . have hit a dead end. Enthusiasm and hope have given way to distrust, apathy, and despair.

It blamed the reforms for inter-ethnic strife that had killed hundreds and turned half a million into refugees.

Every citizen feels a growing uncertainty about what tomorrow may bring and a deep worry for the future of his children.

It blamed the reforms for the country's economic crisis.

It is long past time to tell people the truth: failing urgent and decisive steps to stabilize the economy, the very near future will inevitably bring famine and a new wave of impoverishment.

It blamed the reforms for rising crime rates. The country is sinking into a quagmire of violence and lawlessness.

It promised to restore the pride, safety, and integrity of the USSR —that is, on the eve of the planned signing of the union treaty, to restore the empire to its former self. Read on the air and published in the morning's newspapers, the address was signed by the State Committee on the State of Emergency in the USSR, which numbered eight people, including Gorbachev's vice-president, Gennady Yanaev; and the head of the KGB, Kryuchkov; as well as the prime minister and the ministers of defense and the interior—the entire conservative cadre with whom Gorbachev had recently surrounded himself.³⁷ It took ten minutes to read all three documents. After that, Swan Lake came on.

Zhanna was in the countryside outside Gorky with her grandmother. Her parents had gone to Moscow the day before—they had planned only to pass through on their way to vacation on the Black Sea. Now, with nothing but Swan Lake for news, Zhanna's grandmother was sure that her son was in the thick of whatever was happening in Moscow, and she was worried sick. So was Zhanna.

They were right to be worried. Raisa, Zhanna's mother, was in front of the White House, the massive high-rise of white concrete that housed the Russian Supreme Soviet. Yeltsin had declared it the headquarters of resistance to the coup, and hundreds of people gathered there. After a bit of consideration, they started building barricades. Zhanna's father, Boris, was inside the building.