#Opinion: The Check and the Russian Checkmate Yesterday, London made a desperate – and, to my mind, indecent – attempt to play its favourite game selling “the emperor’s new clothes” at the price of haute couture. This is how it all happened. In the morning, journalists the world over shuddered as they saw a “sensational” article in The Guardian with the long expected title: “Aid convoy stops short of border as Russian military vehicles enter Ukraine.” It was written in black and white that 23 armoured personnel carriers, supported by fuel trucks and other logistics vehicles with official Russian military plates, “did make the crossing into Ukrainian territory late on Thursday evening.” The British newspaper, ruthlessly and unequivocally, claimed that “it was incontrovertible evidence of what Ukraine has long claimed – that Russian troops are active inside its borders.” To be honest, it knocked the wind out of me. The report itself was not a shocker: I was thinking that perhaps I might have missed an official reaction to the night emergency by the Ukrainian President, or the Ukrainian Defence Minister, or the head of the Ukrainian Secret Services... I checked everything I could – nothing! Not a single word spoken on behalf of Ukraine. Then disclaimers started coming in. The first to react was the Border Service for the Rostov Region, which explained that “in connection with the regular shelling of Russia’s territory and the more frequent cases of Ukrainian servicemen crossing the Russian-Ukranian border, the Border Service of the Federal Security Service of Russia has organised mobile teams, which, in response to residents’ reports about shelling or armed clashes in the border zone, will immediately head for these areas to ensure security of the state border and that of the Russian citizens and to prevent armed individuals from penetrating Russian territory.” These teams were operating strictly in the territory of the Russian Federation, the statement said. This can be believed or disbelieved, for it’s a matter of political convictions and, as it transpired later, food preferences. But it’s manifestly logical: A relevant agency has provided a clear and, by Russian standards, prompt reply to an accusation. Later in the day, the “news” was commented on by the OSCE observers stationed on the Russian-Ukrainian border, the UN, and even the United States. Everyone said they could not confirm the information. The only person who could was the NATO Secretary General. But, after all, it’s his job. But what about Ukraine? Ukraine kept mum. I suggest you step into the Ukrainian President’s shoes for a couple of minutes. I understand you don’t want to. But it’s just for a couple of minutes. In the night, you are told (we don’t question the professionalism of official Kiev) that a convoy of Russian APCs has crossed the Russian-Ukrainian border. What is your reaction as President, considering that the Ukrainian politicians have shouted from every rooftop in the world for several months that Russia is “supplying,” “redeploying” and “invading,” only to find out that very few people take their word for it? In this particular case, you have no choice other than to make an urgent statement, convene meetings with the heads of the relevant agencies and send accusatory evidence to the UN, the OSCE and other organisations. As a last resort, you should urge immediate convocation of the UN Security Council and cry blue murder: My country is being attacked by “a convoy of military equipment!” But nothing of the sort happened. The Ukrainian authorities didn’t even make a reasonably concerned statement. At this point, we could as well forget this incident involving yet another Western newspaper hoax. There were many of these in the past and God knows how many more are coming. But the night was still young. The canard came to life and took off. Maybe it was not even a canard but some other stray bird. The main thing distinguishing a regular story (judged as such by the Western journalistic standards) from a fake is commentary derived from both sides involved. This British “masterpiece” makes no attempt to quote either Moscow or Kiev. Journalists don’t work in this way, British journalists in particular. This job has been done by non-journalists. Frankly speaking, I was taught at my university’s Department of Journalism to tell articles from stove-piping precisely on the basis of these signs. Another British outlet, the BBC, was quick to take up the “topic.” But here is an interesting and strange observation. The article in The Guardian included photographs of equipment that was allegedly heading for the border. But, first, the border crossing itself was not recorded on film, which didn’t deter the paper from making an unequivocal conclusion that the border was crossed. Second, how could a journalist witnessing a “world sensation” that might change the course of history have failed to make a video at least with his mobile phone? Odd, eh? It seems to be the end of the story. A strange article, a prompt Russian reaction and the lack of a coherent reaction from Kiev are all indications that 15 August 2014 will not go down in history as a tragic date. But this is just an overture to the evening opera. In fact, 15 August 2014 will go down in history as a tragic example of a world-scale lie. At 02:22 pm, the press service of the Ukrainian President (who had failed to respond to “Russia’s armed aggression”) reported about a telephone conversation between Petro Poroshenko and David Cameron, the Prime Minister of the country that publishes The Guardian. At first sight, it was a report like any other. They discussed “humanitarian aid heading for Lugansk,” although not mentioning the fact that it was Russian aid; “arrival of heavy military equipment from Russia to Ukraine through an open stretch of the border”; international efforts to start a dialogue on possible settlement in Donbas; and, naturally, “prospects for military-technical cooperation.” They uttered not a word about the “aggression,” the “military convoy” or the “nighttime invasion.” The “warmongers’” last hopes seem to have collapsed. But wait! Here we are coming to the culmination of this bizarre story. A couple of hours later, the official press release posted on the President of Ukraine’s website was amended – on the quiet, without any notification or at least a repost with different numerical and publication-time markings – with the following two sentences inserted in the middle: “The parties have coordinated their reactions to the reported entry of military equipment from Russia to the territory of Ukraine, something that has been clearly recorded by international (!!!) journalists, specifically those from The Guardian. The President said that this information was reliable and confirmed, because much of this equipment was destroyed in the night by the Ukrainian artillery.” In all evidence, Mr Cameron called again a couple of hours later and asked: “I totally forgot about the Guardian article: Is it crap or not? And Poroshenko obviously replied: “I totally forgot, too: It’s not crap. Thanks, David, I’ll amend the press release right away so the Ukrainian people know about the enemy inroads.” Possibly it happened differently. After all, what newspaper would like to instantly lose the goodwill it has worked to build up for decades just because of political gambling? We should praise the literary talent of the Russian Defence Ministry, which commented on that “virtual special operation” as follows: “If the Ukrainian military really destroyed something, it was definitely not the Russian armour.” But it was not yet the end of the story. London had a gun in each hand and was firing both. The Russian Ambassador to the UK, Alexander Yakovenko, was summoned to the Foreign Office and – you won’t believe it! – had to listen to the reading of the same article from The Guardian. More than that, they didn’t so much ask him to comment as made all sorts of statements and played indignant. As if they didn’t know that Mr Yakovenko had headed the Russian Foreign Ministry’s Information and Press Department for several years and was as well versed in the tricks of British tabloids (although previously The Guardian was not in that category) as he was in Russia’s Foreign Policy Concept! A full stop would be in place here, but it makes sense to mention yet another circumstance. I mean why this story was concocted at all in the first place. After all, even the most desperate opponents of Russian foreign policy searched Facebook for photos or videos of the Russian equipment destroyed by the Ukrainian artillery. The answer is simple. As a rule, this sort of provocative stove-piping is undertaken in the run-up to “momentous” EU meetings on Ukraine. On 15 August 2014, the EU Council held a meeting in Brussels, which approved an extremely important decision designed to salvage the EU economy. The European Union officially asked third countries not to replace the EU agricultural products on the Russian market. In all evidence, The Guardian was supposed to provide information support for this SOS signal. P.S. The first version of the press release reproduced by the Ukrainian media ran in part: “David Cameron said that the UK was ready to provide financial assistance to Ukraine to the tune of one billion pounds under a UN humanitarian aid programme.” The amended version, however, said nothing about the one billion pounds. Either Ukraine has declined the British financial aid or The Guardian and the British public should remain in the dark about things of this kind.
Posted on: Tue, 19 Aug 2014 06:21:57 +0000
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