The Sunday Telegraph

TV stars bite tongues to feed Putin’s propaganda machine

- By Nataliya Vasilyeva in Istanbul

WHEN Vladimir Putin sent tanks across the border in February, countless Ukrainians pleaded with families and friends in Russia to do something to stop the invasion – or at least speak out against it.

Instead, all they got back were boilerplat­e phrases about “Ukrainian Nazis” and a “puppet government in Kyiv”.

Ukrainians were stunned, but Russia watchers were not. It was the result of a years-long campaign of highly targeted and xenophobic propaganda orchestrat­ed almost entirely by Russian state TV. In some cases it proved more powerful than family ties.

Former employees describe a welloiled machine where everyone understand­s the stakes and even liberal-minded journalist­s work on the assumption that their primary job is to serve the Kremlin.

This machine has become synonymous with Vladimir Putin. One of the first things that he did when he assumed office in 2000 was to wrest back control of the television networks from his opponents, forcing private owners to sell out and ensuring criticism of the government was no longer acceptable.

But from 2013, matters stepped up a gear. That was the year pro-EU protests erupted in Ukraine’s capital Kyiv, and Putin turned to state TV to ensure Russians had no doubt about what to think.

Farida Kurbangale­eva was a leading news host for Rossiya 1 at the time and remembers the pressure to paint demonstrat­ors as Nazis and extremists. She

once made the mistake of calling people in the streets of Kyiv “protesters” only to be told off by her boss.

“What ‘protesters’? Are you out of your mind? Write it down: ‘spiritual descendant­s of Stepan Bandera’,” he

said, referring to a controvers­ial Ukrainian resistance hero who collaborat­ed with Hitler’s party.

Before long, Ms Kurbangale­eva heard acquaintan­ces parrot exactly the same rabid lines that she used in her broad

casts. “I would look at them and freeze for a second. I was the one who had put those thoughts in their heads,” she told The Sunday Telegraph.

“But the most horrible thing was I didn’t believe in them myself.”

Ms Kurbangale­eva went on maternity leave in autumn 2014 and quit soon afterwards, a few months after the annexation of Crimea.

She said she could not keep working in a job where she knew she was either “lying or omitting things intentiona­lly”. She now works at Radio Free Europe’s Russian-language channel Current Time in Prague.

But many of her colleagues kept on working and have continued to repeat the even more hysterical messaging pumped out by the Kremlin since Russia invaded Ukraine.

A lot of them are not even ideologica­lly driven, she said, they are “apolitical people who only wanted to get famous, and they didn’t care where they worked. All they want is to be on TV.”

Many of Russia’s most notorious propagandi­sts come from humble background­s and are unlikely to believe all they say, but they have become trapped by the system, former employees say.

Yevgeny Popov, a TV star who makes an on- and off-screen power couple with Olga Skabeyeva, is described by acquaintan­ces as a decent, hard-working man. The other top TV stars,

Vladimir Solovyov and Dmitry Kiselyov, were once well-respected journalist­s who criticised the government.

But these days they have become masters of propaganda, issuing incendiary threats on live television that Russia should turn the United States into “radioactiv­e ash” or “burn the hearts of gay people and bury them”.

They have made Kremlin propaganda more exciting and watchable, setting a feverish tone that rakes in viewers and that other presenters have rushed to mimic, especially after new treason laws were brought in to silence free media.

“Any alternativ­e point of view that differs from the official line is now treated as betrayal,” said Irina Petrovskay­a, a veteran Russian TV critic, after the invasion.

She compared the shows to the Soviet Union’s Central Television.

Only a few have been brave enough to challenge Moscow’s narrative on Ukraine publicly and face the potential consequenc­es.

In one of the most spectacula­r antiwar stunts, Marina Ovsyanniko­va, a

long-time television producer, burst onto the set of a flagship news show one month after the start of the Russian invasion, holding up a poster saying, “Stop the war! Don’t believe propaganda.”

A handful of well-known state TV correspond­ents also resigned in protest, but most people have quietly stayed on in their roles.

“They’re often scared and many of them feel hostage to the situation,” said Alexei, a former long-time correspond­ent at a top Russian TV channel who asked for his name to be changed. “Heroes are very few.”

He quit a few days after the Kremlin invaded Ukraine once it became clear to him that all political stories were now being manipulate­d.

“I used to sit next to this veteran reporter. Every morning he’d say: ‘Did you see what they’re doing? Are they completely out of their mind in the Kremlin?’” Alexei recalled.

“Then that same day you watch his package and he’s merely repeating Vladimir Putin’s words as fact.”

Some have urged such presenters to be sanctioned – the jailed opposition figure Alexei Navalny has called them “war criminals”.

But Alexei believes little can be done while Putin is in power. “You are a cog in this giant machine, and there’s nothing you can change,” he said.

‘Any alternativ­e point of view that differs from the official line is now treated as betrayal’

 ?? ?? Ukrainian forces on the move in Kherson after the Russian army abandoned from the region’s capital last week in a major blow to Putin. Russian commentato­rs described the humiliatin­g retreat as a smart tactical decision
Ukrainian forces on the move in Kherson after the Russian army abandoned from the region’s capital last week in a major blow to Putin. Russian commentato­rs described the humiliatin­g retreat as a smart tactical decision

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