A LETTER FROM MASHA KAMENETSKAYA, ONE OF MANY
PROTESTERS IN ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA, LAST SATURDAY

When you feel that you have done the right thing in the right place

This is a letter from Masha Kamenetskaya, a young journalist and writer from St. Petersburg, Russia. She is describing her participation in the evening after the 10 December protest for fair elections in the city on the Neva.

SATURDAY 10 DECEMBER 2011: Finally I am home -- after a good and such a... real day. Even a romantic one, in some sense, when you feel that you have done the right thing in the right place.

I spent the day with my friends and loved ones -- who would have thought that a meeting of protest can be such a great occasion to see friends and to catch up with them? And I spent the day with the people living in the same city as I do. The people who smiled and who cared.

The day started with snow (in which some people saw the symbolic connection with the symbolic “against the war” white ribbons and white flowers worn and carried by the meeting participants), continued with lunar eclipse (have you heard of it? it took place an hour before the meeting in question on Pionerskaya Square), reached its pinnacle in the square itself, and ended with me at the theatre.

You want to know about the meeting, of course. While we were walking there, I saw quite a few people, those who supported one of the peaceful ideas for the meeting and who carried white carnations; police women jumping out of their cars like snowflakes; old-aged people, accompanied by their grandchildren -- all headed there. And I saw hundreds and hundreds of others, too. .A helicopter was spinning above the Kazan cathedral. OMON [special security forces -- auth] trucks were "hidden" from view just around the corner. There were also internal-security military vehicles there, too, with, probably, lots of soldiers inside -- but over the course of the day, we never once saw any Army soldiers.

People were snapping photos on their way to the square and saying cheerfully into their phones: "So where are you? Where should we meet?" It seemed as though they were all going to a big party. 

Shop clerks and waiters from cafes nearby were looking out the windows and also -- smiling, curious about the goings-on.

At the square itself: flags of different political parties, a flag with the "31" on it [reference to the Edouard Limonov’s “Strategy-31” political initiative], a flag with Che Gevara’s portrait, a black and yellow flag of unknown origins, protest posters -- the surreal decoration of a huge New Year’s tree. The Griboedov statue looking down on us all. An advertisement billboard with Dmitry Khvorostovsky [popular opera performer -- auth] on the back of it. 

Line of the OMON policemen, less emotional still than the stone Griboedov. The meeting was a legal one [approved by the municipality – auth.], and so the OMON guys were all relaxed (by their standards), they were just directing the traffic, just watching and observing. And they actually were not an eyesore today. Some photographer trying to snap a shot of a picturesque, perfectly orotund OMON policeman. He would have none of it. "But why not? Where does it say I can't photograph you?" - the photographer asks plaintively. The policeman says nothing. This dialogue in itself already feels like a small victory, doesn’t it? For the both sides. 

Someone is shouting slogans. I can't see the face of the speaker. Someone has pinned to his a coat a large piece of paper with quotes from the Constitution of the Russian Federation. Someone is handing out flyers and advisory notes for the meeting’s participants. Several photographers are climbing up on the trees to catch the full view. Some young people with hand-held cameras are interviewing people -- "for their blogs," they claim. 

I am trying to find the rest of my friends – the phone connection is spotty. 

It's 3.30 pm, people continue to arrive from every direction. Even at this point there are more of them than the officially stated "seven thousand" attendees. More than ten thousand even (we measured the number by eye view – based on the size of the square and the approximate crowd density). The crowd feels smaller because no one is pushing or elbowing their way through. One French guy in our party says: "Not that many people. In France, in Paris, we have one million in the streets on such important occasions." So ok, maybe for us this is just a start.

There are some famous speakers at the gathering -- Artemiy Troitsky [well-known music critic – auth.], Lev Lurie [noted local historian – auth.], Victor Shenderovich [popular satirical writer – auth.]. I can see in the crowd others journalists, artists, writers. I can feel people all around me, but from my vantage point, I’m not experiencing the crowd in the negative, threatening sense of the word. 

They are singing up on the stage. It feels strange, but it makes sense, somehow. There are also some stupid, excessively aggressive slogans being shouted (such as "Poltavchenko - to Chechnya!" [Poltavchenko being the newly appointed governor of St. Petersburg – auth.], which previously had been declared "unwanted" in the social-networks discussions. There are also some idiots in the crowd who later on would ignite fire bombs, but their number is very small. 
We discuss issues related to today’s events, as well as our personal matters. But we all are keenly mindful of where we are. It's getting cold, and we start to regret we didn't bring hot tea. We go to the pizza parlor across the street. It's noisy and very crowded in there. The pizza-parlor bar seems to be pulling in its weekly haul in just one hour. For a split second I get the strange feeling I know everyone in here. It's nearly 5 pm. The “official” part is to start wrapping up shortly. Later I will find out there were provocateurs in the crowd, too, inciting people to "overthrow the government." They were promptly arrested, which doesn’t feel right, either. But their actions were stupid. Most people in the square don't want to overthrow anything, they just want fair elections.

And off to the theatre I go from there. 

The performance I watch allows the actors to interact with the audience. One of the actors, playing a clown of sorts, comes off stage to walk in-between the rows. "Who did you vote for?" - he asks random people in the audience. "Oh, you didn't vote? Then you voted for "EdRo!" [the United Russia, pro-Putin party – auth.] This is quite unimaginable – this fearlessness. They are acting, of course, but they also want to show they care about more than the mere acting. Then they proceed to drag onto stage a random audience member, for public’s entertainment. "Did you go to the Pionerskaya square?" -- they inquire of the man all of a sudden. "I forgot," -- he mumbles. "Oh, how about that, you forgot!" – the actors retort in saccharine voices. -- "I don't know where it is exactly," the man stammers. -- "Oh, indeed, it must be so difficult to find out!" -- they nod sarcastically. -- "Now, go away!"

I am pleased -- not because of the performance as such, but because these guys on the stage played fairly, openly. They have a voice and they know how to use it.

The only disappointment of the day was... I don't know if this makes any sense to you... the TV-show "ProjectorfParisHilton." [Number one-rated comedy talk show on Russian TV – auth.] It is a show with four guys sitting at the table and discussing the news of the week from the humorous perspective. Until now, I used to respect those four fellows, I thought them clever and funny. They could have handled themselves and the situation in the country with dignity this time also, even though they work for the government’s primary TV channel, Channel 1. They also play clowns of sorts, you know. I was waiting to hear what they had to say.

Well, and what did they do? They just MENTIONED the elections briefly, and then they moved on to discussing some soccer match, as though there was nothing else of importance happening in the country. It was both un-funny and insincere. I realize that they had been told to keep their mouths shut about the elections, and so on. But this was their opportunity to use their voices, as some other public people have done. It would have been better if they simply, literally had kept silent. They could have just refused to go on the air this week. But they chose to obey the command.

Yet still, in all, this was a good, inspiring, honest day. I heard from other people those same words, too: "I really enjoyed this day!" – a very atypical statement for the normally skeptical and withdrawn citizens of for St. Petersburg.

I was thinking of how to finish this letter. I was thinking of all those big themes of today: inspiration, changing the rules set by others, trying to combat fear. And this is what came to mind:

‘It's a pun!” the King added in an offended tone, and everybody laughed, `Let the jury consider their verdict,' the King said, for about the twentieth time that day. 
`No, no!' said the Queen. `Sentence first--verdict afterwards.' 
`Stuff and nonsense!' said Alice loudly. `The idea of having the sentence first!' 
`Hold your tongue!' said the Queen, turning purple. 
`I won't!' said Alice. 
`Off with her head!' the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody moved. 
`Who cares for you?' said Alice, (she had grown to her full size by this time.) `You're nothing but a pack of cards!' 

Which, do you think, are they key words here?