Saakashvili wages media war against Russia

Mikhail Saakashvili doesn't have the energy to explain Russia's evils to the Georgians anymore.

Читайте: Как Саакашвили заставляет грузин ненавидеть Россию

I felt like a German reporter in Moscow in 1941.

"You're flying to Tbilisi?" My colleagues asked me in Russia. "Are you nuts? Haven't you watched Georgian TV lately? You better think long and hard about this... Or you'll end up like a German reporter in Moscow in 1941."

"What does Georgian TV have to do with anything?" I asked. "I know the Georgian people really well. Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

After having made numerous trips to Georgia in the past, I was more than positive I wouldn't have any problems.

I handed my passport to the Georgian customs official at the Tbilisi International Airport. I watched his expression closely.

At first, his reaction didn't seem any different from usual. Then, all the sudden, he looked up at me and shouted to his colleagues: "Moscow press!"

"Did you come here to write the truth?" the official next to him asked. "Will you write about how Russian soldiers kidnapped a girl from a minibus?"

"Will you write how the Russians are stealing everything that they can — even toilets?" someone else interjected.

"Or how the Chechens are cutting the throats of our soldiers?" the official continued. "And how they're burning the forests in Borjomi?"

I took a long pause and waited for them to paste a visa in my passport. Then I asked: "Are you sure all of this true?"

"Of course it's true. We've seen it on TV," the official said. The confidence in his eyes stopped me from saying another word.

"What does the TV have to do with anything?" I thought to myself as I exited the airport. But that wasn't important. I was already in Tbilisi.

Smirks and vulgarity

The streets of Tbilisi were empty. Passers-by examined my Slavic face more carefully than usual.

I didn't want to turn on the TV. The entire city was sitting in front of the TV set — at restaurants, stores and hotels. Their faces were nervous and angry.

I got a chance to watch Georgian TV at a restaurant with my acquaintances. The news was spinning non-stop — photographs of Georgian corpses, howling refugees, cities in ruins and the horrid Russian military.

The footage displaying the "occupant forces" was the most horrific. The directors were making miracles. The cameras only showed smirking Russian and the microphones only caught Russian vulgarities. Only once did I see the calm face of a Russian soldier.

"Where are you from?" the journalist asked.

"From Shali, Chechnya," the boy answered smiling. Then the interview cut off.

Again, the cameras focused on corpses and refugees. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the victorious Saakashvili appeared on the screen. I don't understand Georgian, so I asked my acquaintances to translate this section of the news.

"They said they brought several Georgian corpses who had their heads cut off to Tbilisi today," my colleagues said. "The Chechens are seeking revenge."

"Who said that?" I asked. "Revenge for what?"

"Their people," he said shrugging his shoulders. "Didn't you know that our forces destroyed a Chechen battalion? And we destroyed hundreds of Russian tanks? The Chechens are acting like animals. It could be the Cossacks, too."

"What Cossacks?!" I asked. "Do you have any idea what modern-day Cossacks look like? Why aren't you saying anything about the victims in Tskhinvali?!"

Silence ensued. I've known these people for what seems like 100 years. And this is the first time I've felt awkward in their presence.

But we parted warmly.

Later, I called an old friend while walking along Rustaveli Avenue near the "Stop Russia!" posters. He is Georgian and a long-time critic of Saakashvili.

"Will you meet an occupant?" I asked.

"Well, are you on a tank?" he replied. We laughed.

But after speaking for 5 minutes or so, he shouted: "Why are the Russians making fools of themselves and stealing toilets? You're even stealing spoons."

"We're stealing them?" I yelled back in answer. "Why do you think we brought tanks in? To steal as many toilets as possible?"

"But I saw on television how..." (He had seen footage on TV of what appeared to be a Russian soldier with a golden fork in his pocket. The video is broadcasted daily.)

"Soso!" I said. "Wake up! Don't you understand how easily this is done? This is a media war. Russia doesn't show looters on TV, but we admit they exist and even claim to have shot several of them. You don't have Russian Internet in Georgia at the moment and haven't seen the footage of how Saakashvili was running from Russian bombs. And they aren't showing us Georgian refugee camps in Russia. There's a war going on at the moment and what's being broadcasted isn't objective information — it's pure hate."

"Eh, Vladimir!" the Georgian said breathing deeply. "Maybe I do understand... But does that change anything?"

Hateful messages on Russian homes

It's strange working as a Russian journalist in Tbilisi. All my meetings were anonymous. Taking a dictaphone was also useless — especially when local South Ossetians were concerned.

"The majority of us don't believe the propaganda," said one South Ossetian. "Of course, I wouldn't call the events that transpired in Tskhinvali a genocide. That's too loud a word. But if the Russians hadn't brought in their troops, many more people would have died. I'm worried about something else at the moment. The worst is probably still ahead. Just like under Gamsakhurdia. The authorities are going to take this out on the local Ossetians. Not now. But soon."

"Does this concern local Russians, too?" I asked.

"Of course not. The Georgians know you're only protecting us," he said.

However, some people are more concerned by the potential threat facing the Russian Diaspora.

"I'm worried that the Georgians aren't yet burying their dead," one Russian said. "They're keeping the bodies stored in morgues. I'm afraid Saakashvili could be getting ready to put on some horrible show. He might organize mass graves and the Georgians won't be able to hold themselves back any longer. People may start writing hateful messages on Russian homes."

After a routine interview, I walked out onto a Tbilisi street. But I didn't have time to take two steps forward before I heard someone screaming at me from above.

"So you're a journalist from Moscow, I see!" a woman yelled from her balcony. "You're walking around with your notebook and just had an interview with an Ossetian. The Russians are occupants! And you're not interested in our point of view, of course!"

I was late filing my article, but I couldn't refuse to speak with the woman. It turned out several Georgian families were waiting to speak with me.

We spoke for a long while — Washington, Moscow, the Georgian attack on Tskhinvali and Russian tanks near Gori.

Of course, we didn't reach a conclusion. But we smiled at each other after our conversation was through. We had heard each other.

I was no longer an occupant for them and they had ceased to be Georgian fascists to me.

But when I left, they turned on the TV. It was news hour again.

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