#37 | April 23 - May 6, 1998  

by Mark Ames

Last week, the Russian Duma passed what is easily the scariest law since the body was first formed in December 1993.

Now, a cop can stop anyone on the street and haul him into a police station if the cop even SUSPECTS that this person is under the influence of drugs. They can search not only you, but also your place of residence, just based on your facial expressions. It gets worse. If the police don't find any drugs, they have the authority to force the suspect to submit to a drug test-meaning they can jam their filthy needles into your arm and determine via questionable means if you are under the influence. Under the new law, merely testing positive for illegal substances constitutes possession, and possession in this country usually carries a minimum of three years' prison.

Russia is said to have 2 million drug addicts. Given the general ratios of addicts to casual users, perhaps 10-20 million Russians on any given day might test positive and would thus be considered felons "in possession" of drugs. The state doesn't intend to lock everyone up-it can't; rather, it wants to assert its authority over the masses through fear and arbitrary power, with the "drug war" providing an acceptable cover.

Now, it all depends on whether or not you look like a suspect. Which I apparently do.

Early last week I was walking with Krazy Kevin near Ploschad Ilyicha when a rickety militsia jeep swerved up on the sidewalk and two cops jumped out, clutching their AK-45s. They forced us into the back, hoping to scare us. After some arguing, they tossed Kevin out, leaving me sandwiched in, AK barrel lazily pointed at my ribs.

"We're gonna go for a ride," laughed the fat-faced cop next to me. The driver was slightly nervous, but the other two cops were whoopin' it up, taunting me about the hell that awaited me at the militsia station. I knew they didn't really want to take me down; they just wanted some cash. I played dumb, entertaining a sick curiosity to see how far they'd take it, but I gave in after a 10-minute drive that took us to an empty storage lot.

"How much?" I asked.
"Put down what you want, and we'll see," said the fat-faced one.

I only had one 100,000 ruble note, and I couldn't very well ask for change. I laid it down on the seat. The fat cop hastily grabbed it and stuffed it into his pocket, nervously looking out the window, likeÉ like in a drug deal. Then nothing happened. For a moment, I thought they were going haul me in anyway. But these guys weren't interested in paperwork.

"Where would you like to be dropped off?" the driver asked politely. He seemed almost embarrassed.

"Where you picked me up," I said.

On the way, they stopped at a kiosk to make a few purchases. It was Cosmonaut's Day. Then they dropped me off, wishing me a cheery ironic, "Privyet Amerika!"

Another slapstick skit, I thought, but four days later, the Duma passed their War on Drugs law, farce turned to fear, and now I'm not even sure if this article is legal.

After hearing from friends about the law and noticing that last week's Moscow Times account omitted the most menacing provisions, I called Sergei Zabarin, a lawyer who works closely with parliamentarian Yuri Shakochikin, a Yabloko representative on the Duma Security Committee, where bills regarding drug laws are produced. Zabarin, who has been fighting for some kind of sanity in Russia's drug laws for a couple of years now, was nearly out of his mind when I spoke to him last week.

"It's incredible!" he said. "This is total madness! It's completely uncivilized, and a violation of the Russian constitution." Zabarin confirmed that the new law is vague enough that local police officials and courts have broad leeway to interpret it as they see fit, which, he said, means that suspects can be detained, searched and forced to submit to blood tests if they simply look wrong. Most Moscow cops are from the provinces, and couldn't tell the difference between the munchies and the jones... now, they're going to decide who looks high and who doesn't. You can guess what subtle criteria they're going to use.

The law has been passed, and it's already being applied. A close friend of Ne Spat' editor Dima Shalya was detained outside his home Monday night because the cops thought he looked "pale." They accused him of being a junkie and hauled him into the station. This guy isn't a raver degenerate, but rather a typical young Russian, age 25, who works in a travel agency and has never touched drugs in his life. The cops locked him up, searched him for drugs and checked his arms for signs of track marks. They threatened to take him to a local facility for a blood test, but eventually, he was released.

Knee-jerk social liberals like the Moscow Times may print editorials about the need for increased education and needle exchange programs to solve the drug problem, but the fact is that drug use will never wane for the same reason that alcohol use won't: DRUGS ARE FUN. Even though this has been common knowledge since roughly the beginning of time, it's still highly censored. So let me repeat: DRUGS ARE FUN. Drugs are more fun than real life-real life means a lousy job, a bad marriage, leaky bathtubs, cars that don't start in the morning... But not everyone has the nerve to take drugs, so the rest, the ever-vengeful herd, insists that they be locked in jail.

When I saw Alina Vitukhnovskaya sitting in that courtroom cage six months ago, I took a selfish interest in her case because I suspected that I could be next. Now I'm more convinced than ever. Even Boris Kagarlitsky of Nezavisamaya Gazeta expressed his surprise recently about how many people read the eXile. They're not all fans, either. They include the same FSB people who locked up Vitukhnovskaya not long after she published her articles on drug culture in Novaya Vremya.

In Russia's darkest periods, the State treated its citizens as potential suspects. I believe that is the reason why a criminal culture is so strong today. It is impossible to create a democracy when such a relationship between state and citizen exists. The West, which claims to have fought the Cold War in the name of democratic values, doesn't seem to mind, because the stated aim of the law is to combat drugs; just as no one cares about the virtual genocide of the Russian population this past decade, a "necessary" by-product of the shock therapy reforms.

White folk can pretty well avoid looking like suspects by ditching the leather coats and dayglo stripes for respectable L.L. Bean catalogue clothes and thick horn-rimmed glasses-the thicker, the better. Glasses, even fake ones, can obfuscate your dilated, pinholed, or bloodshot eyes, while the LL Bean clothes will rightfully scare most cops away like garlic to vampires. It's an unpleasant option, but a lot better than wearing a prison uniform.

If you're a blackass or an African, then my suggestion would be to flush your shit down the toilet now, and start learning to enjoy alcohol. Cops and lawmakers drink it all the time, and look how well it has worked for them.