‘We didn’t know we’d live to see the Soviet regime fall’ As Trump cuts RFE/RL, veteran Russian service anchor Alexander Genis reflects on his 40 years at the broadcaster
Just hours before a court hearing on Monday, the U.S. Agency for Global Media (USAGM) agreed to release two weeks’ worth of funding for Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, an international broadcaster best known for reaching audiences behind the Iron Curtain during the Cold War. The move marks the latest development in an ongoing saga resulting from President Donald Trump’s March 14 executive order seeking to dismantle the USAGM and shut down several media outlets the federal agency oversees. (The order also affected Voice of America, for example, resulting in its journalists and other employees being laid off or placed on administrative leave.) With RFE/RL’s future hanging in the balance, Meduza turned to veteran anchor Alexander Genis, who joined the broadcaster’s Russian service in 1984 not knowing that the Soviet Union’s collapse was just a few years away. In a wide-ranging interview, Genis looked back on his 40 years at RFE/RL and how its role in the Russian media landscape has evolved since the end of the Cold War. The following translation of that conversation has been edited and abridged for length and clarity.
— Both you and RFE/RL’s Russian service (Radio Svoboda) were born in 1953. To what extent did Radio Svoboda shape you?
— It’s not so much about Radio Svoboda specifically, but about Western “radio voices” in general: they created an alternative universe. My father never parted with his Spidola receiver, which could pick up all of the stations on short wave: the BBC, Voice of America, and Radio Svoboda, which was the hardest to pick up, by the way. I grew up listening to these voices and thanks to them, I always knew what was happening in the world. My education had a lot more to do with radio than with school or university. This was dangerous, especially in politics classes, because I always knew much more than I was supposed to. Then in 1984, I ended up at Radio Svoboda as an anchor and became one of those voices myself. I always felt that in doing so, I was repaying my debts to the voices that raised me.
For me and all my friends, radio was an enormously powerful educational tool. I never met anyone who didn’t listen to the radio. And it can’t be said that only dissidents and liberals were tuning in to these voices. This alternative life was the meaning of our existence under the Soviet totalitarian regime.
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Everyone had their own receiver. I grew up in Riga, after all, where the Spidola transistor radios were produced. The Spidola was a freedom machine and everyone knew how to listen to whatever they liked. For example, some of my friends were big music lovers — rock, jazz — and they listened to Voice of America, which broadcast wonderful music programs. Everyone understood that real information, real life, could only exist on the Western radio waves. It never occurred to anyone to listen to Brezhnev’s speeches.
— Was it the radio station’s deliberate policy to smuggle in Western values along with Western music?
— Music was part of the overall program, which was connected to the concept of “soft power.” And soft power is like water wearing away a stone. Communism lost the Cold War not because Western tanks came to the Soviet Union but thanks to soft power — jazz, jeans, cinema, and books. The war was won without a single shot being fired. And music was especially important because in the Soviet Union, there were wild restrictions in this sphere. Music was a liberating factor for everyone, but especially for people from the generation a little older than mine, who grew up on jazz. Like [Soviet writer Sergei] Dovlatov and [poet Joseph] Brodsky, for example.
— Can we count on uncensored media to change people’s opinions and bring about the end of the regime today?
— We didn’t know that we’d live to see the fall of the Soviet regime. It always happens unexpectedly. And we don’t know what exactly will be the last straw that breaks the back of this nightmare that reigns in Russia today.
I remember the 1968 invasion of Czechoslovakia very well, when the radio was broadcasting news [updates] every minute. It played a huge role back then, forever setting the intelligentsia at odds with the authorities. In fact, this is the case now, too. There’s a war going on in Ukraine and the very same Radio Svoboda is following what’s happening every second. But if before we knew that the government always lies and didn’t expect anything else from it, now the situation has become more complicated. An idiotic concept of post-truth, [or] “alternative facts,” has emerged. People live in an information fog and say, “Well yes, our government lies, but yours does too. Russian radio lies and so does Western radio.”
This isn’t true: the news that’s broadcast on Western stations, including on Radio Svoboda, is carefully checked. This isn’t a “version” of the truth, it’s the truth, it’s fact. In this regard, Radio Svoboda still plays a huge role because it always verifies information and gives people a tool for comparing reality with the distortions that Russian propaganda feeds its population.
— The Soviet authorities jammed Radio Svoboda and other foreign stations. Why did they consider radio such a serious threat?
— Because these stations were destroying the Soviet picture of the world. All the propaganda nonsense collapses when it turns out that there’s an alternative. Back then, it didn’t take much to puncture this lying, vile information system like a balloon. However, it’s become much more dangerous today than it was in my time. [Russian propaganda] employs more talented people who understand what mass media is because they’ve had to work in competitive conditions.
In my time, propaganda was written for idiots and even those who wrote it didn’t believe for a second that it worked. Propaganda today is much more successful because it uses the techniques of the yellow press, which are more effective. And of course, Western radio is twice as dangerous for it, because the authorities are caught red-handed every time they lie.
— Today, RFE/RL is on the brink of closure. This already happened back in 1971–1972, when the CIA’s role in funding of Radio Liberty became public knowledge. How was the radio station saved then?
— Back then, they found a wonderful solution: the financing of Radio Liberty was transferred from the CIA to Congress, and Congress is America because it is [made up of] representatives elected by the people. But whereas Voice of America prefaced every broadcast with a message saying that it expressed the views of the U.S. [government], we at Radio Liberty do not have and never had any such prologue to our broadcasts. Although everything was funded by Congress, the opinions we expressed were independent. And this, I must say, is a big difference.
— How did the newsroom organize its work when you first joined it? What was the purpose of your broadcasts?
— In New York, we had a wonderful way of preparing our broadcasts. At the end of the work day, I, as the youngest, would run to the store and buy a bottle of whiskey. And [then we’d] sit around a table with our glasses and smoke and discuss what to talk about on air the next day. My friend and Radio Svoboda head Yuri Gendler, our radio station’s philosopher, Boris Paramonov, Pyotr Vail (with whom I wrote so many books), and, of course, Sergey Dovlatov; I’ve never known anything more fun and interesting than working with them. We were like teenagers; everyone tried to outdo each other in their inventiveness and wit. This is how our programs were born — this was the creative process. Gendler was a genius boss. He said that a boss’s job is to find people who are smarter than him.
This is how we created a language of friendly, informal communication that Soviet society was sorely lacking. All of this was especially important during Perestroika. People from the Soviet Union came to us every day; writers came and talked about how they wanted peace and were ready to fight for Perestroika. This process of bringing the emigration closer to the metropolis was very important. One good thing about the 1990s was the march towards liberation — and we also took part in that march.
— How do you remember Radio Svoboda’s audience?
— I never knew how many people listened to us, or when and how [they tuned in], because this was impossible to calculate. But I kept track of the letters we received. I always answered all the letters [from listeners]. Every one of my broadcasts ended with the words: “Not a single letter will remain unanswered,” and that’s completely true. The readers and listeners of Radio Svoboda have always made me very happy.
— How did dissidents contact Radio Svoboda? How did you get information about repressions and other state crimes?
— Radio Svoboda was full of dissidents. I respected them very much. Yuri Gendler, our boss, was a dissident himself. He was imprisoned in [a Gulag labor camp] in Mordovia for distributing Western books. Both he and everyone else at Radio Svoboda closely followed the dissident movement. We had well-established connections with the human rights movement in Russia and, in general, everything was working towards victory in the Cold War.
— What role did Radio Svoboda play in defending the White House [in Moscow during the attempted coup in August] 1991? The station’s correspondents were right inside the White House at the time.
— I remember those terrible days very well. At the time, we were discussing what we would do if Perestroika failed. During those three days, this was the only thing Radio Svoboda covered. I’m proud to say that on the second day, I did an analytical program about what was happening and the then-head of Radio Liberty in Europe said, “Farewell, freedom, our generation will never see you again.” But I came to a different conclusion: “Farewell, Communism!” [I argued that] these [events] would bury Communism, no one would talk about “Perestroika” or “acceleration” anymore, and all of Gorbachev’s slogans would disappear in a second. [And] that’s exactly what happened. I think this was the first time I managed to predict the future.
On the third day, when the forces that I consider democratic won, Boris Paramonov and I bought a case of champagne. We took it to the radio station where our colleagues from all the services worked — the Czechs, the Slovaks, the Poles — and we treated everyone, saying, “This is a celebration of your freedom and ours.” It was perhaps the happiest day of my life.
To this day, I have a stone on my desk that my friend pulled out from under the Dzerzhinsky monument when it was toppled and gave to me as a pledge of freedom. When I think about what’s happening in Russia today, I look at this stone and tell myself that perhaps this isn’t the gravestone of Russian freedom after all, but a cornerstone that will help restore it.
— How did changes in Russian society influence the radio station? What was it like in the 1990s and under Putin?
— Radio Svoboda has always been, among other things, a pillar of sanity. No matter how events developed in Russia, there was always a voice of reason. The 1990s were hard, but this was a time of constant communication and dialogue with people in Russia. This was important for both our listeners and for us, because we always had a finger on the pulse.
I must admit that I’ve never regretted emigrating, except for one time. When I went to Russia in the very hungry and poor years of 1993–1994, I envied those who lived there because they were building freedom. But since the [2014] annexation of Crimea, I no longer go to Russia. The Russia that I loved and understood is gone.
— How would the closure of Radio Svoboda affect the independent Russian-language media landscape?
— I don’t know how the story of RFE/RL losing funding will end. Everyone is fighting for survival as best they can. There are all sorts of attempts to find new patrons, new funding, to involve Europe in this matter. In my opinion, this would be very fair, because our radio station is important in Europe, which is living with a rabid bear on its borders.
Do you know how much RFE/RL costs? Everyone knows this figure now: $142 million a year. That’s how much one fighter jet costs.
I don’t know how it will all end, but I do know that nature abhors a vacuum. Today we see the development of YouTube streams, which are very successfully competing with Putin’s television. And this, of course, is a huge achievement for all the people who do this work. Now, a remaking of the information space will begin. We’ll see what role Radio Svoboda will play in this process. The main thing is that there’s still a priceless archive, which can be used for many many years.
— What do you think awaits journalists who have emigrated in recent years in this new, “Trumpian” reality? How do you save the profession in these conditions?
— Before I joined Radio Svoboda in 1984, we were facing the very same problems. There was no funding. But nevertheless we founded the newspaper Novy Amerikanets, for example, which many knew thanks to its editor, Dovlatov. The public really loved us, but this didn’t help us survive. There still wasn’t enough money. We had one salary for 16 people and snacked on stolen ketchup from McDonald’s. But it was still a happy time. There’s always an opportunity to do something, especially today, when the Internet has changed the situation radically.
But I can imagine how difficult it is for people who might end up without work. My wife told me, “It’s a good thing you’re 72 now. If you were 42, it would be much worse.”
Interview by Meduza
Abridged translation by Eilish Hart