2. Maltese is the only real lingua franca. Save for two or three coastal towns or well-to-do suburbs with SUVs parked in the driveway, you'd be hard-pressed to find places where English – rather than Maltese – is the lingua franca. Not that we'll kick up a fuss if you've been living here for thirty years and can't speak a word of it – and it is true we tend to intersperse our Maltese with English (and vice-versa) sometimes – but Maltese is unquestionably our language.

3. Not everyone speaks English. Even if English is an official language the percentage of people who can speak is slightly higher in Sweden and some other Nordic countries. English is a borrowed language we find useful and probably like more than we let on, but the only language we consider really ours is Maltese. According to Eurobarometer 100% of the Maltese population speaks Maltese and 88% can speak English. Portuguese is an official language in Macau and only 5% speak it, so things could be worse…

4. "Ever closer union" and "bringing Europe closer to the citizens" are well and good as slogans, but do they mean anything? The debates in our Parliament in Valletta, our laws*, and our courts are all in Maltese. How could the EU ever elicit to only use a foreign language in Malta – with all the colonial undertones that would suggest (yeah, we're not completely over that yet)? We've been an independent country for less than half a century, so such an attitude would be immediately perceived as arrogant, distant and colonial – not an ideal way to present itself to a member state.

5. The decision to include Maltese as an EU language was accompanied by a renewed pride in our language. Of course, we shouldn't overestimate the impact it had, but the Brussels seal of approval definitely led to increased legitimacy. As I said, we're an ex-colony so we're quite self-conscious of what foreigners think of us and all that.

Klingon is one of the official languages of the EU. Who knew?

6. It is cheap. How much does all this Maltese tomfoolery cost the European taxpayer? Administration costs account for roughly 5% of the EU budget. Of this a way smaller percentage is spent on languages and a minute portion of that, barely visible to the naked eye, is spent on Maltese (or other small languages – Iceland hurry up and join!). There's a great bargain if I ever saw one.

7. It looks cool. I mean – look at it. It is weird and unlike anything else. Sure, Hungarian or Estonian are pretty "unusual" too and some languages effortlessly introduce foreign words as an integral part of their own language, but how many European languages take elements from Italian languages (14th Century Sicilian and Neapolitan in particular), share their lot with semitic languages (phoenician, hebrew and an arabic so arcane it sounds like it is ten centuries old – which it is) and throw in some Norman French, contemporary English, Aragonese or lord knows what else when you're not looking?

–

So, yes, we've got our vernacular, we're quite fond of it, the EU helped increase its legitimacy and we expect to be able to use it. But the question remains. What does it really matter to you, a Romanian or a Spaniard, what goes on with my language?

Unsurprisingly, my answer is that it isn't all in vain. Couldn't we conversely ask when the EU spends money on a rail link in Galicia or co-finances a bridge between Romania and Bulgaria, what is it to us in Valletta? In such a case it isn't the utility of the Maltese language itself which is being questioned, but the notion of solidarity – something the EU was built on and which I personally feel is well worth defending.

The EU isn't all hunky dory, and yes some things need changing. But let us not start by overlooking or disrespecting smaller countries though the deligitimization of their language (a surefire way of telling a nation their identity is unimportant).

Besides, where does it all stop? Shall we deny Icelanders the language they're so proud of because there are even less of them? Shall we get rid of Estonian, Slovenian and Finnish? What then?

* together with an English version which is not legally binding

Moderating the press conference (on the left Mr Assarid and Michel, on the right Mr Aguiriano, Director-general for DG EXPO (Thanks to my colleague Istvan for the pic)

This is a blog post I was supposed to write some time ago… But somehow I couldn't find the time to do it last week. Now I sit comfortably in my chair in lovely Strasbourg (yes, it's plenary once again), watching the Christmas market under the snow outside (or almost) and I can remember those sunny and bright days I spent in Lomé, Togo, at the end of November…

It all started with the boss (aka Steve) popping up in my office, a little bit embarassed. "Well, Florent, I'm afraid some people will be jealous…" Our sister unit, "the press" as we call it, had no French speaking press officers to cover a Joint Parliamentary Assembly in Togo… So we were asked to help them, and as French editor I was the first to get the offer.

It was a bit unfair, I must admit, as I already went to Tunisia for another mission last July. Missions are something rare in our unit, and two missions abroad in the same year was stretching the limits.

It took me about half a second to weigh up the pros and cons… And to accept the mission, of course not out of personal interest but to fulfil my duties and stay loyal to my beloved institution.

First times are always something special

I had never been to "black" Africa before and the first thing I would say now that I'm back is that I would like to return there. The country, as I could see during the 5 days of work and the 2 free days I had at the end of the mission, is really poor but people are extremely friendly. Yes, if there is richness in Africa, it's definitely the people.

The natural comparison that comes to my mind is always the one with China, where I went for several long trips. Togo seemed much poorer. Lomé is the capital and main city but you do not see more than 10 buildings in the whole town that have more than five or six floors. Industry and business seem to be non-existent. The hospital we visited with a delegation of MEPs and African, Pacific and Caribbean (ACP) MPs was hosting a lot of… Chinese doctors and nurses. Many people were sleeping outside, along the roads. And unemployment hits -officially- above 30% of the population (it may be even higher in reality). With 60% of the population being under 25, it would be the "land of hopelessness" if people had no such a positive attitude…

An impressive audience for the opening ceremony (thanks to my colleague Istvan for the pic)

I did not tell you yet what exactly I was doing there. So, here is the explanation. Elected representatives from the EU and the ACP countries meet twice a year, alternatively in Europe and in an ACP country, to discuss development. This has been decided in 2000, when both parties agreed in the Cotonou agreement on a stabile framework for their relations. The Joint Parliamentary Assembly, which gathers 78 MEPs and their counterparts from the 78 ACP countries, is a unique area of discussion for the representatives that control the governments' actions.

My job was the one of a press officer, as I said. I wrote press releases in French (another colleague took care of the English ones), something similar to what I do for La Une ("Headlines" page) maybe just a bit more factual and less free. I moderated the press conference and the press breakfast with the co-presidents of the Assembly, Louis Michel (Belgian MEP and former commissioner) and Assarid Ag imbarcaouane from Mali. And, last but not least, I was answering to journalists on the phone.

Ads for AIDS prevention were all over the place.

A premature conclusion

This blog starts to be too long, so let's come to a quick conclusion, if you've not already left. I discovered a new continent and a new job. I liked being in contact with MEPs and journalists. I did not like very much the writing of the press releases since there is no creativity behind it. And I liked following the multicultural debates (yes, in such an Assembly multiculturalism takes another significance!) on the impact of public debt on development, on the fight against malaria, on the Arab Spring, on the situation in the Horn of Africa…

The political situation on the spot was also very sensitive. The country is in a democratic transition, with the actual president being the son of the dictator that held power for 38 years. There was a big debate about nine MPs that were "dismissed" for changing their political party. MEP Louis Michel was rather in favour of this decision, many journalists again – a very hot topic. The reasons behind are quite complex and I can't go into details but it generated some hostile press coverage and rather virile interventions during the press breakfast. Another challenge to master – really interesting from a professional and personal point of view. Yes, you get the feeling you're in the political business and not only watching it from the outside!

Yes, you get the feeling you're in the political business and not only watching it from the outside!

We also got the chance to be invited for dinner by the Togolese correspondent from Radio France Internationale, and we spent the whole evening discussing the political situation. It was a really enlightening debate that offered us to understand the situation much more in depth.

Get out and you'll see!

Getting out of the office, meeting new colleagues, working directly with MEPs, being on the spot and not hidden behind a screen is always worth it, being it abroad or not, being it in Africa or not. Now I'm waiting for the next opportunity and, as it won't come before a long time, I just hope other colleagues will have the same opportunity and share their experience with us…

Is democracy green and sparkly?

 

Better the devil you know

“Was this here before?” I couldn’t help but wonder. I think I must have put this question ten times on my way home. In Brussels they were talking about CAP reform. Here, people were selling fruits and vegetables on the side of the road. Back in the European forums they were discussing about road safety, and here, although few and far between, one could still spot carriages pulled by horses on the roads. And to top it all out, people still made the sign of a cross every time they passed in front of a church. Matter of fact, our first stop on our way back home was a monastery. And the explanation, as my mom put it: “well, since we happened to pass by, why not light a candle?”

I used to laugh about all this with a certain Swedish friend. I used to think that all these facts fall into the “unfair stereotypes” category that every European culture stacked over years. Now, on the other side of Europe, I’m not so sure. It dawns on me that maybe all these may seem like stereotypes in Brussels. Here though, they are just the harsh reality.

So I began to wonder. If we were so far off to consider this reality, how is the mighty European forum looked at from this neck of the woods? It took me a while to even form an opinion, because the fact is, it doesn’t exactly keep the headlines here.

I’ve been keeping an eye on the local and national media. The first EU story I saw was not even directly related to the EP. It was about the deadline set by my country’s government to enter the euro zone. Other than that, the effects of the economic crisis and our bickering politicians were stealing the show. So what seemed to be so important in Brussels, here was even hard to follow.

Is it still high and mighty?

No. At least efforts are being made to bring the activity of the EP in front of the general public. And I’m not talking about specialized media niches that cover EU affairs, no Sir! The EP’s web page keeps you up to date with all the activities of the Parliament. The EP’s team of editors works hard on offering user-friendly news about the Parliament and its members. These news cover decisions that could affect millions, and still, they don’t seem to have the same life-changing ring in the national media. Why?

The web site of the EP is definitely not a niche. It does not adopt a highly specialized language, on the contrary. The language is set to fit the taste of our common Latvian grandmother. Question is: why do I need to search for EP news? Of course I am following the EP’s activity on Facebook as well, but in both cases, the user, i.e. me, needs to be proactive about it.

The plan is to bring the EP to the citizens. To open its gates and to let them see that politics, even at a European level, is not something that comes from high above. There are some projects being set up right now that will do just that. Unfortunately, they remain suuuper seeecret.

“We need more Europe”, an MEP once said, and that’s exactly what they are trying to achieve in the EP. From aside, I can only confirm the need of it.

Greetings from Kansas!

"Estate Liberi!": volunteering and studying on the properties confiscated to mafia. Picture by Elena Tubaro on Flickr: http://bit.ly/psmSBL

Last week we wrote several articles on volunteering on the occasion of the II Youth Convention on Volunteering. A recurrent assumption on voulunteering is that you “help the others”. Allow me to disagree: for me volunteering is, first of all, helping yourself. And – at best – some trees.

Last year’s project to spend a month in Burkina Faso doing a theatre activity was exotic enough to attract the curiosity and even the envy of many friends. This year’s choice, on the contrary, had become the big joke: “and you will spend your summer holidays working in a mafia field in Sicily, right?”, they were asking with unmasked irony.

They had almost managed to convince me, and the day I learnt that my inscription hadn’t been registered (just two days before the start of the camp) I wasn’t too sad. But then they called me to tell that “where 30 can sleep, 32 can fit too”: mmmh, good start, I thought. But the experience exceeded all my expectations, and I will show you how volunteering has first of all helped myself, at least in three regards.

The trees, the nature, the land I love

Basically the idea was: working on a field of orange trees and olives confiscated from a mafia family a long time ago, abandoned for twelve years, now given to a cooperative of 5 people that obviously don’t have the resources to take care of the 95 Hectares assigned to them.
The task was cleaning up each tree from all the weeds and bushes that were suffocating it. They told us that when they were given the land, they couldn’t even see where their land started and where it ended. Now, after one year, you could understand if the trees were olives or oranges, but not much more. And still, they were alive.

We woke up every morning at 5:00 (4:30 when it was your turn to prepare the breakfast), walk to the fields and attacked the trees at 6:00. One of us would pass the rake to take cardoons and asparagus away, the other would cut the dead branches, and another one would remove the grass just under the tree. And then the orange tree would suddenly look like a tree again, breathe again, and even – what a miracle! – show new fruits and leaves, liberated by the vine that covered them.

Meet the Cooperative Beppe Montana: 95 Hectars, 5 people and 1 tractor. Photo by Vincenzo Bevivino

Being 30 Italians in few square meters, you can imagine that the noise was not missing: somebody would sing, another would do impressions, and most of us were chattering and learning of each others’ lives. In the meanwhile the sun would rise, and it’s difficult to describe the beauty of the light on the tree leaves, the bitter scent of the green oranges, and the variety of colors that this earth would get in the different hours of the day.

(Re) starting from the land to solve some of the most urgent problems of the planet: it’s a conviction I had before, and it got strengthened after this experience. That’s why, every tree I was liberating from the weeds, I would feel a bit freer too, and every single drop on my back would sweat happiness and satisfaction.

A “s*** country” plenty of beautiful people

In the afternoon, after a good lunch and a long rest, we had several meetings with people committed in the fight against mafia. I thought that thanks to this I would learn more about mafia. But it wasn’t the most relevant: what I learnt is – there are so many people, simple people, people like you and I, very far away from the news on some “excellent arrest” or other Padrino-style scenes, that fight their daily war against mafias and beyond mafia: against corruption and illegality, against the connivances that hold together the system, against indifference and silence.

Impressive people, starting from the ones managing the cooperative where we were hosted: young or very young, with a simple, common goal. Working in their land, and don’t be obliged either to go abroad or to abide by the mafia’s rule. Having a clean job: it’s a normality that in some places is still a very courageous dream. In the same way as it is opening a private company and refusing to pay a local “tax” to the mafia, or to do your job as a true journalist and not as a servant. As it is working with the thousands of immigrants landed in Sicily after an unutterable journey from Libya or Tunisia.

Even if some think that Italy is a “s*** country”, there are people that love it so much that want to change it.  I met energies that I have never known abroad, flowers that can blossom only in the desert: a mix of courage and lightness, of commitment and joy, of willingness and naiveté, which gave a boost to my ideals and to the belief that change is possible. That it’s already happening.

Men are not islands

26 August, Catania Airport – We had been told to be there at 11:00 to meet “the group”. When I saw this colorful mix of sleeping bags, guitars and backpacks my instinctive reaction was “Run NOW – you’re still on time!”.

Proud to be tired! Photo by Elena Tubaro on Flickr: http://bit.ly/pveCbZ

The first night I went to bed (in my room shared with my boyfriend…and other 15 people) quite early, trying to prepare for the 5 AM alarm. Around midnight I was opening the window to shout against the dozen of people playing bongos, guitar and maracas just below my head. I said to myself “They will get tired soon, too”. I was wrong. The second night, I played cards till 1:00 AM. On the third, everybody could listen to my singing talent. The fourth we finished the beers in the fridge, and the fifth I was already very sad at the idea of leaving them in a couple of days.  The last one, we danced till morning and then we slept all together under the stars.

It must be between the third and the fourth day that the idea crossed my mind: men are not islands; we are not done to live separate. The dimension of community is a natural one. It’s true – you give up some individual freedom – the right to sleep when you wish, for example. But you discover that you don’t need to sleep 8 hours, because there are other energies – such things as enthusiasm and joyfulness – keeping you awake.

Conclusion: the invasion of the red t-shirts

One day we went to a small village to make an excursion. The organizers had asked us to wear the red t-shirt they had given to us, exposing the name of the association and the project we were participating to (I hate wearing t-shirts with things written on them, by the way). When we arrived to the main square, locals were starring at us, with our t-shirts, our quest for “gelato”, our noise and our laughs. Several people, old, young, men, women, got close to ask who we were, what we were doing. Some thanked us; some said “you are the energy that will change this”.

Right in that moment, the time of a gelato, I felt blessed by this incredible human feeling called hope. Do you know anything else to help yourself better?!

PS: if you are interested in the summer camps, consult the list here… and get ready for next year ;)

Vasiliki, on the Island of Lefkada

In all I judge mine  a success. I felt it while I was on holidays (for no other reason than that it felt good to be where I was, doing what I was doing, being with the people I was with) despite the fact that objectively it was a pretty mediocre state of affairs, neither the place, nor the hotel or the entertainment, being “ideal” even by my own rather low standards.

But how can you actually prove this? How do you quantify the level of satisfaction you draw from your holidays if you can’t claim to have spent them on a zillion dollar yacht or on the beach in Bora-Bora? Until this past week I had no way of doing it.  But now I know. I have a measure and I am ready to share it with the world: it is the forgettometer.

How much do you remember when you come back? Do you remember your password? It took me 3 tries, so I will arbitrarily give me 3 points (out of, say, 10) for “forgetting your password”. Do you remember how to embed a video? It took me a couple of minutes, so I will even more arbitrarily award myself (or rather my holidays) another two. Do you remember how to find something in your office phone menu? I didn’t even remember my phone had a menu, so I think 10 points are in order, with another 10 added for forgetting to call a team meeting on Tuesday. And then the coup de grace… Do you remember how to tweet?

A big fail...

This will take some explaining. I do remember how to tweet and love doing it, but…

First of all I came back having forgotten that I have to tweet, but that’s so unprofessional I will actually deduct a point from my score. And then there was that most excellent site that allows you to handle twitter without actually using it. Now what was it called? It was, before the holidays my daily companion, my trusted lieutenant for all things Twitter. I used it every single day, all day to tweet in two languages. It was a little tricky sometimes but it certainly made my life a lot easier. I was so fond of it, I didn’t even bookmark it, I just typed the address every time. What a mistake!

... for a good reason

Yes… I came back having forgotten its existence, its name, its URL, everything. Then at some point the need arose and, after having tweeted some, I dimly remembered I had long stopped using Twitter.com. Slowly it dawned on me that there was some other site that did the job. Ah yes, that greyish site. Umm let’s see… no, not bookmarked (in case you hadn’t noticed, I belong to the AltaVista generation and will never, ever, say “favourite”), no recollection of its name whatsoever.

It was embarrassing. So embarrassing I didn’t even dare ask. I just wandered down the corridor hoping someone would be using it. Someone was. My holidays were certainly over but forgetting Hootsuite is a definite 10 out of 10.

So in aggregate I have unscientifically but fairly accurately awarded my holidays a nice 34 out of 50 or just a whisker short of 70% on the forgettometer, which sounds about right. Not bad… not bad at all.

The movement evolved from being #15mani (demonstration 15, referring to the date of the first clash) and #nolesvotes (don’t vote for them) to #Democraciarealya (real democracy now), but it is also known as #nonosvamos (we are not leaving), and #acampadasol (camping at Sol). Another popular hashtag is #yeswecamp. No need to explain it, I think, as neither needs 15-M, with the date and the M for Madrid or May put together in a way that makes one think of 11-M, the tragic date and month of the bombings in Atocha station.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cesarastudillo/

This apparently chaotic and disorganized twitter universe exemplifies the very essence of the movement: spontaneous, even if some want to see a dark hand behind it, heterogeneous, even if others want to see only young or unemployed people involved, and unpredictable. It is neither clear what they want, nor where they are heading  nor how long the protests will last. They have already warned that the movement does not finish with Saturday’s elections.

It is however possible to identify a few of their requests and slogans, even if I am sure not all the protesters share all of them: no to politicians’ privileges, no to corruption, media neutrality, electoral reform, economic measures to take the country out of the desperate situation it is in. One may think it is a demonstration against the government, but I am not even sure about that. Some are angry with the government, some with the opposition, but most with politicians in general. Anger and frustration are what, ultimately, unite all those people, and what have made other in many other Spanish cities join the protest.

Twitter acted as the platform needed to spread those feelings, to let people know that they were not alone, helped to organise the first camp at Puerta del Sol and is still the boiling ground in which many communicate what is happening in Madrid and beyond.

International media coverage also reflects this confusion. It was reflected on the Washington Post’s frontpage, with one of the best photos of  the protest, and while CNN says it is caused by unemployment, which is higher than 20% and specially hits young people with a rate of around 40%, the BBC even compares it with the Egyptian revolution, saying that, as in Tahrir square, the pacific demonstrators are organizing the protests in committees.

#italianrevolution?

I think that some comparisons are at least risky, as the situation in Spain has nothing to do with that of Egypt or Tunisia, but the truth is that the basis is the same; discontent, mainly with the political class. Madrid could be the European version of what happened in North Africa, especially if the movement spreads to other countries… and this morning Twitter already woke up with the trending topic #italianrevolution.

Photo from edans on Flickr http://www.flickr.com/photos/edans/

Twitter acted as the platform needed to spread those feelings, to let people know that they were not alone, helped to organise the first camp at Puerta del Sol and is still the boiling ground in which many communicate what is happening in Madrid and beyond. Both Spain and Italy are now approaching elections, both countries face a complicated economic situation and citizens of both countries are tired of learning about political scandals through the news.

The unanswered question is now how this civic movement will affect the elections, and what will be its ultimate consequences. While waiting for the answer, the revolution continues to be tweeted.

Have a look at the EP from the outside... We need it! (Pic from Gerlos @ http://bit.ly/heflyG)

You won’t believe me if I tell you that my last trip to China made me think about the EU and my job in the European Parliament. Indeed, China and EU do not have a lot in common, if we look at the culture, the political structure, the level of political engagement, the freedom of press etc. However, I had a strong experience there which made me think of what I sometimes – even if to a smaller extent – can experience here in Brussels.

I was in China for the wedding of Chinese friends. It was a good opportunity to travel around the country, mostly in the South, but at the end we came back to Beijing, where we spent two days, before taking the plane back to Brussels.

And it’s only when I landed in Europe that I heard that some – shy – demonstrations were cracked down by the police in Beijing. Nothing surprising, you will tell me, as everyone knows the censorship that takes place in China (I experienced it while working in China Radio International in the summer 2006…). However, it echoed something that happens everyday at work: when I open Le Monde every morning, the French newspaper I get in the office, I learn some new things that happened or are happening in the EU institutions and in the European Parliament…

Yes, I do believe in the power people outside the institution can have. They may need us but, for sure, we need them as well.

Not that I don’t know what happens in the house where I worked but being here on the spot does not necessarily mean that I can see and hear everything. Lost in the day-to-day workflow or in the mysteries of a big administration, I miss some major political debates and issues. Damn, it’s sometimes much better to be outside the institution to look into it, to understand it and… to be free to say what you want about it!

This is not a plea for freedom of expression in the EP, don’t misunderstand me. It’s just that we work here under particular constraints – those being neutrality, transparency, objectivity. And it’s good so but it can not replace opinion, criticism, well-documented journalism… Yes, being outside the Parliament allows YOU to communicate very efficiently about what we do, what we are and why we matter (or not).

Yes, I’m an insider, explaining the European Parliament from the inside. And yes, I do believe in the power people outside the institution can have. They may need us but, for sure, we need them as well.

Accidents do not always happen to others and they also do not always happen in your home country… Keep the 112 in mind! (hfb on Flickr http://bit.ly/eKcbaH)

Our job is in part to show citizens that what the EU does matters to them. Yes, we try to be “citizen-friendly”, even if sometimes we know we won’t convince everybody about what we write… But, on the 11 February, let me tell you about my experience of 112, the European emergency number.

11 February is the European day of the 112, the emergency number that works all over Europe. Because yes, accidents do not always happen to others and they also do not always happen in your home country…

I remember very well the first and only time I used this number. At that time, I was living in Lille, in the North of France. We went – with my girlfriend – to the Belgian Ardennes for New Year’s Eve. Some friend had rented a house for partying all the night. We enjoyed the party very much and slept on the spot. The next day, 1st of January, we drove back home in the evening. It was already dark on the highway, with fog. Suddenly, something black appeared in the car’s light just in front of us. No time to think, no time to react. We drove over what seemed to be a coat – I just had this quick thought that if it were a person, I could not have done anything to avoid driving on it. On the hard shoulder, a car, all lights off. It could have been there for a long time, but somehow you could tell immediately that this car had just crashed. It’s maybe because of all the pieces of the car that were lying on the road, or maybe because you get that awful feeling that something terrible happened.

Breathe deeply, take your cell phone and call… 112.

We stopped on the hard shoulder to call the emergency services. In this kind of situation, you don’t really react in a reflective and objective way. Too many things are going through your mind. Breathe deeply, take your cell phone and call… 112. That may be a detail, but this number automatically came into my mind because I saw an communication campaign a few days before. Otherwise, I won’t have known who to call: French emergency numbers are 18 and 15, but they do not work in Belgium (I still don’t know the emergency number in Belgium…).

So I called the emergency services that asked me to check more precisely what happened. Fortunately some other people were arriving on the spot, one guy went to see into the car and I passed the information to the doctors. To be honest, I’m grateful that I did not have to go to see inside the car that was half the length it was before the accident.

The rest is only a typical story of a fatal car accident in Belgium (I won’t go into the question of the quality of Belgian roads here, nor into the broader question of road safety… So many things could be said and criticized). But what I learnt is that, in some unexpected and stressful situation where lives may depend on the rapidity of your reaction, you’re quite happy that a European campaign like the one for the 112 came to your mind. So spread the word about this number, it could save lives when you’re abroad!

[The 112 is on Facebook as well!]

Grandfather Frost - Soviet Santa

It’s been 20 years since the winds of change shook Europe, but I still feel there’s a gap of understanding in what the end of communism meant to the people that broke free. Here is my attempt to shed more light on the artificial reality that “a soviet person” lived in.

Having been born in “Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic” during the years of Brezhnev stagnation, I feel obliged to share funny, sad and absurd tales from a USSR – a pathetic oppressive experiment with people’s lives that led nowhere. What was it like growing up in the Eastern block for a kid whose parents were neither a part of nomenklatura nor enemies of the state?

Uniform collectivity

“My address is neither a house nor street, my address is the Soviet Union”, says a popular song of the communist period. 

Soviet citizens were supposed to be uniform and standard. We wore uniform uniforms at uniform schools, lived in identical blocks of tiny flats (mostly khrushchovkas) with same pieces of furniture, VEF radios and telephones. We rode identical Škoda trolleybuses, Ikarus busses and Lada, Moskvich and Zaporozhec cars, shopped in univermag department stores and dreamed of toys from detskij mir (children’s world). 

Soviet man lived collective life. S/he shared a glass to get carbonated drinks in gazirovka machines or kvas from bright yellow trailer barrels. 

Certainly, there were 2 types of people outside the box: members of nomenklatura that were more equal than others and dissidents /”enemies of the state” who were locked up, deported or “treated” in psychiatric hospitals. 

 The bliss of ignorance 

 Those protected from the truth had a happy childhood in the soviet “Matrix”. Schoolchildren became octobrists, continued as pioneers with red ties and later on as komsomolcy. Special relationship with comrade Lenin was crowned by becoming a member of the party. We were surrounded by red banners, stars, sickles and hammers, five-year plans, bold slogans and parades with empty speeches.  

 In the backdrop of all this theatre of absurd, we were playing in the yard, buying ice-cream for the money from returned bottles and watching great cartoons (multiki). We didn’t know that even they were censured to be ideologically correct. Our happy childhoods were overshadowed only by the fact that Americans were always ready to drop a bomb. Nevertheless, civil defence training kept us vigilant. 

Communist regime tried to replace Christmas traditions by emphasising New Year’s celebration. Presents were brought by Ded Moroz (Grandfather Frost), accompanied by Snegurochka (Snow Maiden). 

The land of the deficit 

 Centrally planned Soviet Union was a land of deficit (economic shortage), therefore queuing was an important part of everybody’s, including kids, life. Naturally, those in control of distribution became important and under-counter trade was widespread. 

“If you want to live, learn how to dodge”, goes the Soviet saying. And everyone starting with collective farmers and ending with apparatchiks learnt to do that. Directors of hotels, storehouses, canteens and shops could lavish their kids with products their brought home, while nomenklatura got foreign goods in dollar stores. 

Getting a car or a flat meant long waiting lists before you’d receive a warrant. The ultimate happiness for a soviet child was eating a banana. They would only appear in stock couple of times a year and you would queue for hours to get them.

Soviet nostalgia: good old days

“Back then it was better”, you can hear even some people of my age say. Sure it was, but we were happy because it was our childhood, not because it was soviet. Some great cartoons, movies, books and songs from the soviet period will always be a part of me. 

There is no way I could feel nostalgic about USSR. How can someone happily live in an oppressive dictatorship based on bigger and smaller lies covered up by propaganda and brainwash? Live in oppression, conformism, fear and russification? 

Some people claim that we were better off, less materialistic, had free education and medicine. Alas, most of this was illusionary and self-delusionary. Yes, freedom has its price: you have to show initiative, make choices and learn from your mistakes, but it is the only way to true self-realisation. 

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Next: more on grimaces of soviet life and a portrait of homo sovieticus. 

I’ll explain why I feel shivers hearing Soviet anthem (re-introduced by Russia with new lyrics) and seeing people wearing T-shirts with sickle and hammer. Yes, I think creation of the Soviet Union was probably one of the biggest geopolitical catastrophes of the 20th century.