by Reggie Yates
When the show finally finished I worked my way through the crowd, trying to make sense of what I’d just endured. I cornered a trendy, Janet-Jackson-braid-wearing fashionista who told me she was there for politics as well as fashion. ‘We want something that is ours, something truly Russian.’
The event was put together by SET, an organisation run by young men and women rallying around the president in an effort to fight back against the West. SET believes they use their unique talents to showcase Russia on the world stage. Was their propaganda making politics cool?
I was invited to join SET in their plush offices. Piling out of the lift weighed down with tripods and sound equipment, the crew and I arrived to be met by the immaculate Anna. Her gentle voice and pleasant tone soundtracked a walk around the vast space filled with young people. With every turn there were young men and women having what looked like really important meetings in glass-walled rooms. Those who weren’t in meetings were huddled around computers having meetings or stood at the coffee machine … having meetings.
Anna was every bit the helpful host as she explained the history of the organisation and the need for its existence considering the current state of the country. Now, there were LOTS I could have spoken to Anna about but I was entirely thrown by the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever seen: the wallpaper.
As Anna walked and talked me through the workplace, my attention was caught by the floor-to-ceiling photographs wrapping every inch of wall. Every photograph was of President Vladimir Putin. Nothing odd about that Reg, stop being dramatic Reg. OK, would you call it dramatic if I told you that every photo was of Putin canoodling with an animal? Smiling while cuddling a dolphin, riding horseback shirtless, giggling with baby chicks and lost in the fuzz of an impossibly furry dog were just some of the highlights. A heavy-set man bashing away at a keyboard stopped to educate me as to how animals are able to feel that Putin is true and real. I turned to Anna for something resembling sense. Her take? ‘The animals love Putin.’
SET had eleven offices across Russia and thousands of young people have been recruited to their cause. Anna believes people like her keep coming through the door because they are galvanised by their president and inspired by dreams of a new Russia. Anna went on to laud good old Vlad by saying, ‘He is not a political construction unlike Obama,’ leading me to believe that, in Russia, loving your president and country are almost one and the same thing.
In a time when it seemed as though the entire world was against Russia, it’s easy to see how the patriotic rally behind a man like their president. Putin comes across as more than just a politician, but a concept primed to promote Russian strength.
So who is paying for all of these edit suites, computers and glass-walled meeting rooms? Well, according to Anna, SET is about creating world leaders. By investing in creative minds, that next generation of forward thinkers will have the necessary ‘Russia First’ mentality.
Leaving what felt like a strange alternative dimension, I feared what politicised creativity could actually lead to. Art and propaganda have always gone hand in hand in post-revolutionary Russia, and I walked away feeling like I’d been on a tour of a farm for Putin support and successors.
As Anna led me out I was told who was paying for everything and suddenly it all made sense. SET is an organisation funded by the state.
Whether you’re a man or a woman, the motherland is calling
Russians are more active on social media than any other country in the world. They even have their own Facebook. No really, it’s called VK and everyone has an account. Now, to be clear, it’s not Facebook but it’s blue. It’s not Facebook but you can share photos. You get a wall, update your status and everyone has annoying relatives posting cupcake recipes. But it’s definitely not Facebook. The only real difference here is that it’s all in Russian and has zero rules. People share illegal movie streams and music downloads for free. It’s the wild west of social networks, but if you’re not Russian, you’ve probably never heard of it.
This addiction to social media makes targeting millions of potential eyeballs for the purposes of political propaganda easy and commonplace in Russian politics. At a time when online is overtaking TV, internet celebrities are everywhere and I was about to meet one of them.
Nineteen-year-old Macha works for Putin’s party and believes traditional values are under threat. Blond, pretty and immaculately turned out, you’d be forgiven for assuming her online success came from make-up tutorials. Yet in her spare time Macha makes videos supporting the president. In promoting her ideas of a stronger Russia to a worldwide audience, she’s become an online star.
One of the more popular videos in her arsenal has Macha all in white, complete with a huge fur hat to match. Speaking directly to camera and soundtracked by a stirring string section, she goads the viewer to be more patriotic: ‘Whether you’re a man or a woman, the motherland is calling.’
I was invited to join Macha as she shot some new photos for her various social media platforms. I arrived at the studio to find a full-on production of lights, wardrobe, the lot. It’s probably best I spell out the fact that her wardrobe wasn’t made up of the frilly or sexy options you’d expect. Macha had a rail populated with military and traditional Russian outfits. She also had a box of props including axes and machine guns. So … yeah.
Obviously my initial reaction was to laugh, as I’m a true professional. Look, I had to crack a smile as everything she was doing was so … cheesy. I even got up there and took a few pouty shots myself. (I probably should look into what’s happened to those images.) Cheesy or not, her online content was consumed globally and made her voice one of weight in the eyes of a growing audience.
It wasn’t lost on me that the pretty blond nineteen-year-old with a political message had a talent at cutting through her digital competition. What was a surprise was the type of content she was producing. In her videos, Macha made no apologies for her opinion. What looked like softcore for horny dads with internet history paranoia quickly revealed itself to be propaganda the moment Macha and I stopped posing and started chatting.
Her steely stare was nothing short of focused. My Mr TV Man ego took a solid squishing the moment I realised the pretty girl wasn’t there to meet my black ass, she had a message and was determined to get it out.
In her videos, Macha likes to make declarations like, ‘The enemy will be defeated and victory will be ours, if we lose, we will destroy the whole world.’ Her tone online didn’t really differ in face-to-face conversation. It wasn’t one of my warmest chats on camera but she was fascinating.
She believed the West ruined Russia and broke apart a huge country, a super power. She wanted to show that it’s not shameful to be Russian. Considering herself a nationalist, Macha explained her main aim was to start a movement. She believed her videos would be the precursor to reuniting all former republics of the Soviet Union as one country again.
I was blown back by her rapid-fire monologues – she definitely wasn’t a short-for-words interviewee. I spent the majority of our chat trying not to get distracted by the box of props while stood in polite silence listening. Macha continued to make it clear that Putin would be the man to take the country back to its former glory.
When the Soviet Union was dissolved in 1991, one country became fifteen separate states. Russia remained the strongest financially, and people from the smaller and poorer surrounding countries flooded in.
At the time we were making Extreme Russia, there were a round eleven million immigrants living there and, just like in every other stable country (the UK included), those immigrants quickly become an easy scapegoat for any of the country’s problems. The saddest thing about this happening in Russia is that many of the immigrants in question once lived in what was seen as the same nation.
I left the photo shoot with a mild headache and a slight shift in my expectations. As naïve as this may make me sound, my preconceived version of the Russian nationalists I was due to meet didn’t lo
ok like Macha. I’d prepared myself for a constant stream of hooded men with bad breath and offensive style choices. Macha was every bit the opposite, meaning whoever I was going to meet next could also be a fascinating surprise.
One all-inclusive breakfast demolished, a few deep breaths taken and the next day we were back at it. It was a crisp morning and the extreme cold was again my tormenter. Three pairs of socks on and several T-shirts later and I was out on the street walking to the metro. I promise you it is no exaggeration when I say the Russian subway is incredible. If you haven’t already, Google it. I’ll wait.
Even your favourite Turkish meze restaurant doesn’t pack that much marble into one location. Moscow’s underground is really special, and I’m not just saying that because it’s so much warmer than on the street.
We ambled to the station, cameras fired up, and were met at the station entrance by flashing blue lights.
With so many Russians holding anti-immigration views, Russian police tend to keep tabs on faces that don’t fit. Being fully aware that my African nose doesn’t exactly align with the traditional Russian bone structure, I was a little on edge stood feet from the flashing meat wagon.
As men and women exploded out of the station doors, power-walking their way through the cold for the morning commute, it wasn’t long before some were stopped. Minutes later, every officer on the street and station steps had a handful of civilian IDs checking details via radio with the station. The one common theme? Every man and woman stopped was non-white.
Men and women who just minutes prior had been on their way to work, promptly became criminals in the back of the meat wagon. For whatever reason, their paperwork didn’t satisfy the officers and they were taken in. My excitement over heated trains and marble now felt trivial in the face of the cold reality experienced by so many in modern Russia. With a bad taste in my mouth all I could think was, ‘Is this what it feels like to be an immigrant here?’
As a child of immigrant parents, my life in the UK has always been affected by the reality of being different. In my school days, I found myself going home to a totally different world, culturally, to my classmates. Being born in the UK but raised by parents with a very different start in life, I’ve always been aware of those difficult first years they spent in the UK. To know the intimate details of their struggle means my reaction to new families on my street, regardless of origin, has always been the same – to embrace. Seeing first-hand what it means to be other in Russia shocked me.
The whole of Russian Twitter is talking about you
After the Soviet Union collapsed, numerous-ultra nationalist groups sprung up to protect their country against what they saw as a foreign invasion. At their centre was a group known as the Slavic Union, led by a man called Dmitry Demushkin. Made up of over 25,000 neo-Nazis, the Union was subsequently shut down by Putin for being too extreme.
When Putin thinks you’re too extreme, you probably stand a great chance of gold in the racist Olympics.
To paint a slightly more vivid picture, this was a group known for bearing flags branded with swastikas while masked in balaclavas and wearing army fatigues. Being totally blunt, footage of the Slavic Union throwing Nazi hand salutes and generally being all-round intimidating as fuck didn’t fill me with joy. This was made worse as I had the pleasure of knowing it had been agreed for me to get to meet Demushkin face to face.
No longer connected to the defunct Slavic Union, Demushkin was now leading a new nationalist group called The Russians. With a growing membership and an increasing level of awareness through social media, Demushkin was as popular as ever and building on his followers daily. Our meet was scheduled for a Moscow-based march, one of ten scheduled country-wide for the same day.
The ironically titled National Day of Unity is a day where Russians up and down the country make their voices heard on any number of issues. Every kind of flag and Russian cause seemed to be represented. The march had been started ten years prior by President Vladimir Putin to encourage Russian unity. Nationalists hijacked the day and made 4 November a very different beast. This was an opportunity for some to support the maintaining of and investment in traditional Russian values. Unfortunately, an unhealthy number of others took the opportunity to chant about keeping Russia white.
Driving in, I couldn’t help but wonder what I was getting myself into. I had no idea what to expect and definitely hadn’t prepared myself for the number of people arriving in large noisy groups, piling out of an endless queue of buses, watched by police officers and dog units. In nearby streets, groups of men congregated drinking as they prepared to join the march. In previous years, the march had been known to turn violent and this time it looked as if the police were making their presence felt.
Decamping from the crew vehicle, we joined massive queues and made our way in through huge metal detectors. It took a while, as I’m sure you can imagine, considering we had bags and bags of sound and camera gear. The fact that every over-packed kit bag looked like a backpack bomb probably didn’t help.
After a few intimate and rough lover-like pat-downs we were in. Mildly molested, but in. As hundreds filtered in behind us you could feel the excitement. Jumping on each other’s backs, young guys in groups shouted and cheered as they bounded past. This was clearly thrilling for so many, but what this actually was, I wasn’t sure yet.
Before meeting Demushkin, I was introduced to Vadim. Standing at just over six feet with a tuft of chin hair you could call a goatee in the right light, his slight frame was bolstered by layer upon layer of sportswear. He greeted me with a huge smile, which was a total betrayal of the version of Vadim I’d seen online.
Promoting the march in a video uploaded to YouTube, his squinty dark eyes fixed on the camera were accompanied by a deep Russian voice instructing viewers to show up. Encouraging the support for Russian nationals, a hooded Vadim barked his directions while stood in the woods. He challenged his audience of anonymous internet screen names to finally show their faces and to be vocal about their beliefs on the day.
It seemed to have worked, as excited friends and fans continually interrupted Vadim while we spoke. He was known, popular and attracting attention. The march was getting busier and a lot louder by the minute, and as we continued to talk, it began to feel as though my presence might have begun to attract just as much attention as Vadim’s.
Filming on location always presents the same issues, whether you’re making drama, entertainment or factual TV. Attention. In the case of entertainment, there’s nothing better than a crowd forming while you get some random to sing in the middle of a shopping centre. With drama, there’s nothing worse than a gawping passer-by while you shoot a heavy dramatic sequence outside.
Factual on the other hand lives and dies in the moment. Sometimes a crowd forming while you interview someone on the street only adds to the sequence. The disagreeing random piping up in the crowd can deliver an unexpected perfect interruption, forcing your contributor to react in a way you could never have planned. The downside is that sometimes it can go completely the other way. The crowd that might have been beneficial on a good day can be nothing more than a distraction or, even worse, actively try to be disruptive.
It was obvious to the crowd that was forming now that we were press and even more obvious we weren’t Russian. Standing out as a black guy with a camera crew worried me. To my detriment I began to try and imagine what the thousands of passers-by thought.
What could possibly be my reason for being there? Having a camera crew with me in the eyes of these young Russian men and women could mean I was either there looking for a reaction or out to catch them being all of the negative things they’ve been painted as in the press. I began to feel that the camera and my appearance in this environment did only one thing. Put a target on my back.
Falling inside myself in a downward spiral of paranoia, Diana did everything in her power to keep me smiling. I clocked we’d lost Vadim and I think it was at this point that Diana started body poppi
ng. Yes, dancing to distract me. Definitely a first and totally hilarious, it made no sense until the reason for her awful performance became clear. Even Diana was worried.
We were in Lublinov, a working-class suburb in the south of the city and a nationalist heartland. We had our own crew but, for some reason, we’d begun to attract other cameras. Every time I’d turn my back, there was a new stills photographer or news crew covering my attendance. A young journalist pulled me aside to explain why. Apparently, I was all over Russian social media. ‘The whole of Russian Twitter is talking about you.’ I was laughing on the outside but knew what that meant. The photos, tweets and status updates could potentially make my day all the more difficult, or worse, actually dangerous.
Chances were I’d suddenly been blasted onto the radar of every undesirable for miles. I could only imagine what was beginning to fill the walls of VK. The young journalist was concerned and confused at my desire to attend. He referred to the majority of men on the march as real Nazis who kill people. He claimed I’d put myself in the presence of men who openly admit to cutting off the heads of their enemies and keeping them in their fridges.
Let’s let that one brew for a minute, shall we? What would you think in this situation? I’m definitely not in the business of putting myself in the line of danger so I laughed waiting for him to join in. He didn’t.
Although pretty extreme, his claim felt increasingly possible due to his visible fear as the men he was referencing were now stood literally feet away. Those lighter moments of laughter and silliness I can’t help but allow into my life on and off camera had run for the hills. He was deadly serious that I was in danger.
