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I Watched Russian Television for Five Days Straight
My full immersion in Putin’s propaganda
By
Gary Shteyngart
On New Year’s Eve of 2014, I became the subject of a terrifying experiment. On
assignment for
The New York Times, I’d agreed to stay in a hotel room for seven days (leaving only for a brief daily swim) while watching Russian state television. Three monitors were arrayed in front of my bed constantly blasting the state-owned Channel 1 and Rossiya 1 networks, as well as the Gazprom-owned NTV. By the end of my stay, I had turned from a happy-go-lucky novelist into a squeaking gerbil of a man, psychologically compromised and barely sure of what constituted reality.
Now, slightly more than eight years later, I have decided to replicate this experiment. On the one hand, the length of my sentence has been commuted to five days from seven; on the other hand, since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, the state’s propaganda has become even more loud, brash, and genocidal, making any length of exposure to it psychologically problematic. But in some way, Russians were preparing for the bloodshed of innocent Ukrainians as far back as 2014, if not earlier. The images of Ukrainians as a bunch of Nazis hoodwinked by the West were readily presented on Russian television. Back then, I did not want to believe they could lead to the massacres of Bucha and Irpin. Today, I know better.
Day 1
I arrive at the Public Hotel on the Lower East Side on a cold day this past April. My room has nice views of most of the downtown-Manhattan skyline, which lights up in flashes of pink and purple as the sun begins to set over New Jersey. But I am not here to look out on the World Trade Center tower or the New Museum right below the hotel. I am here to suffer and learn. I flick on each monitor in turn: Channel 1, Rossiya 1 (broadcast outside Russia as RTR-Planeta), and NTV. I settle into my large, comfortable bed; order a pisco sour to be sent to my room (the hotel’s restaurant is Peruvian); and rub my eyes in anticipation. It begins.
The first thing you notice when you switch on Russian TV is its totemic fascination with the swastika, which regularly appears on one of my screens. Sometimes it is taken from footage of the Nazi era, sometimes from purported videos of the Ukrainian far right. Sometimes it is on the news, sometimes in a documentary, sometimes in a TV drama. By my third or fourth swastika of the day, I start to believe that when the symbol is shown this often, it is not done so entirely with disparagement, but with a subconscious appeal to authoritarian power and to the state’s own fascism.
A lot of time on all three networks is given over to flashy “newsroom” sets populated by older men in blazers who scream about the West.
Kto Protiv (“Who Is Against”), on Rossiya 1, is one such program. The subject matter is often akin to what one sees on far-right television in the U.S., the exemplar of which is Fox News. But Russian state television is several degrees to the right of Fox, or even of its more lunatic competitor, Newsmax, although Tucker Carlson, the onetime king of televised white supremacy, is frequently shown on Russian TV as well—or, at least, he was back in April. On tonight’s
Kto Protiv, Sweden and Finland are presented as having been coerced into joining NATO. A panelist mispronounces the term
LGBTQ+ to general laughter. (“Is it plus or minus?” another panelist asks.) Afterward, an “economic expert” tells the audience that transgender bodies have begun to fall apart. No evidence is cited for any of this; it’s merely people talking or, as some like to say, “asking questions.”
On NTV, another staple of Russian television appears: the dysfunctional-family showcase. “They beat me, tied up my hands, starved me,” a woman from Volgograd cries. “My grandmother beat my face with a metal stick.” The beaten woman, now in late-middle age, is the daughter of a mother of five, who rejected all or most of her children after giving birth to them. The elderly mother who abandoned her children is presented. A woman with a piece of jewelry around her neck resembling a thick chain screams from the audience: “Why did you give birth to so many children if you didn’t have a husband or money? So that they would be orphans?”
Meanwhile, on Channel 1, a black-and-white documentary shows Khrushchev greeting a group of cosmonauts. The glories of the Soviet past on one screen are contrasted with the realities of the present on another. You may ask why a government obsessed with propaganda would be showing programs about broken families. One reason is that audiences of all nations enjoy watching their fellow citizens in pain. Another is to remind the people that life in the lower depths is a time-honored tradition. The show is presented by two dapper male hosts who are part of a well-trod Russian-TV theme: Provincials in distress are interviewed by stylish urban hosts, as if they are Chekhovian peasants being judged before the district court in czarist times. Subconsciously, shows like these teach poorer and older Russians (the kind of people who regularly watch state television) that they should be ashamed before their betters and that they cannot expect much from life or their immediate families.
“My husband drank,” the elderly negligent mother explains on NTV. She was a tram driver. Her husband worked in a factory. “He went to prison for three years for stealing a coat. Then he divorced me.” Whereas the manned space flight on Channel 1 was a great accomplishment, NTV is presenting the eternal Russia, which will remain when the glories of the past are left to the history books.
The old woman crawls on the floor. “Forgive me! Forgive me!” she cries to her children. Now we have left the pages of Chekhov and arrived in Dostoyevsky Land. Some of the audience is in tears. “My fate has been so difficult!” the old mother cries out to them, and to her many abandoned children.
On Rossiya 1, the topics of Finland and American transgender people are not yet exhausted. On one screen, men are screaming about geopolitics, while on another women are screaming about their destroyed personal lives.
The show about the dysfunctional family cuts to a commercial for a fast-food chain that has replaced McDonald’s after the sanctions for the Russian invasion of Ukraine were imposed. The copycat McDonald’s is offering an unconvincing-looking “beeeeg speshal roast beef,” as an announcer describes it.
On Rossiya 1, Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov is giving one of his usual bombastic speeches: “They want to cancel our country, as they like to say. They’re trying to cancel our country for pursuing its own politics. The West has long groomed Ukraine … Just like Germany invaded Russia.” The television shows another Nazi parade, a long sea of swastikas and chanting in German.
Later on the channel, we see images of Russian President Vladimir Putin striding through gilded Kremlin halls, while U.S. President Joe Biden is shown tripping on the stairs of Air Force One. It’s an advertisement for a show titled
Moscow. Kremlin. Putin.
It’s only 9 p.m., but I am exhausted. I have drained two glasses of pisco sour and eaten my ceviche from the hotel’s restaurant, and am blindly watching a movie called
Razplata (“Payback”), which seems to be about a drunken man who beats his wife. My vision is getting hazy and my eyes can barely see what’s happening on the three monitors, but I can sense that it is a triptych of a nation that has no idea what it is supposed to be.
Day 2
“Not my King!” The day’s news begins with anti-monarchist demonstrations in the U.K. “At least no one is throwing eggs at him like last time,” the NTV announcer intones as King Charles III is booed. In addition to the constant footage of anti-war and pro-Russian demonstrations in Germany, Russian TV is obsessed with the perfidy of the “Anglo-Saxons.” Here the Royal Family is criticized for a variety of sins, such as colonialism in Africa and the 3 million pounds King Charles supposedly received from a Qatari sheikh. Although Russian propaganda normally skews far right, its producers are able to pivot quickly from feigning horror at transgendered people to promoting a kind of Soviet-flavored anti-colonialism. Surely something will appeal to Misha from Murmansk or Vanya from Vladivostok, or any of the more than 100 million viewers who spend an average of almost four hours a day digesting this spicy gruel.