In the lead up to this month of meetings surrounding the G8 Summit there had been a great deal of debate about the legitimacy of the two civil society events, The Other Russia and the Civil G8 conferences. The Other Russia conference was being held in the business-class Renaissance Hotel in Moscow, where most of the attendees – including me – were also staying.

I had arrived at the hotel the day before, dragging my copious luggage across Moscow’s streets, oppressive in the July heat. Inside the hotel, in a conference room with no air-conditioning, a press conference was already underway. I stayed at the margins of the crowded room and as the proceedings were entirely in Russian, I had to rely on tone of voice, facial expressions and the occasional explanation provided by Elena Panfilova, director of TI Russia.

At the front of the room sat, among others, Georgiy Satarov, director of INDEM, Gary Kasparov, chess world champion turned political opposition leader, and Lyudmilla Alekseyeva, head of the Moscow Helsinki Group and a champion of human rights in Russia since well before the Iron Curtain fell. Talk centered around the appalling human rights situation in Russia, around whether this was a king-making event, intended to produce a viable opposition candidate; and of course, around the issue of corruption. Corruption seems to pervade every facet of life in Russia, and which, despite periodic dismissals and arrests, allegedly permeates the upper ranks of Russian bureaucracy and government.

But there was another, more sinister topic, namely the systematic harassment of would-be attendees attempting to make their way from Russia’s outlying provinces, from Kaliningrad, from Siberia and elsewhere, to Moscow. Tales were circulating of environmental and human rights activists being mysteriously arrested while trying to board planes or trains, and then being ‘caught’ with heroin in their baggage, or, in one woman’s case, TNT in her handbag. One man was said to have been doused with ‘chemicals’ by unknown assailants, leaving him with burns across his face.

As chilling as the stories were, I admit I took them with a grain of salt. But my skepticism was rapidly tempered the following morning as I pulled aside the curtains in my hotel room and surveyed the scene thirteen stories below. In the middle of the broad road - Olimpiyskiy Prospekt - was a police car, parked and redirecting traffic. Immediately in front of the hotel, a cordon of police officers was in place, including men in blue fatigues. Across the street in a parking lot, shielded at ground level by low trees, was a group of several hundred soldiers, some with attack dogs, standing silently in formation. They did not appear to be there to protect the participants of the conference.

Used to subtler forms of government persuasion, I was deeply unsettled. I called Elena Panfilova, who was coming from her home that morning, to let her know what was waiting for her upon her arrival at the hotel. She thanked me for the call. Apparently I was not the first to have warned her.

Returning to the window, the rows of police and military personnel had now been supplemented by a band of pro-Kremlin protesters, young men and women equipped with surprisingly expensive-looking banners and flags, admonishing conference attendees for their unpatriotic behaviour. Lining the hotel driveway, they would stand there all day, even as temperatures soared in the afternoon sun.
Undaunted, attendees made their way to the fourth floor of the conference centre, where they milled about cheerfully, greeting one another and scanning the information stands in the coffee area that provided background on the conference issues and the groups represented. TI Russia had a display in Russian and English that included a world map based on TI’s Corruption Perceptions Index and comparative data on corruption in Russia’s many administrative regions.

A battalion of international press attended, drawn by the presence of the handful of remaining opposition leaders, and egged on by the ominous pronouncements of Russia’s G8 Sherpa, Igor Shuvalov, who deemed conference attendance by foreign diplomats a political affront.
Ominous warnings notwithstanding, the US Assistant Secretary of State, Daniel Fried, and British Ambassador to Russia, Brenton Anthony Russell, were in attendance. Many German political luminaries had sent greetings as did former US Secretary of State Madeleine Albright. The Ambassador underlined the non-negotiable role that civil society must play in healthy democratic societies. This was followed by speeches from representatives of civilian casualties of government anti-terrorism raids (who far outnumber the terrorists killed in the raids), from advocates for the rights of young men drafted into a military that sees nearly three thousand non-combat deaths of junior servicemen each year, and from advocates for environmental issues and human rights more broadly.

Although each was advocating something different, there was a common thread to their remarks. The events by which the Russian state co-opted big business and media outlets and by which they squeezed most political opposition out of operation were recounted again and again. The increasing pressures in recent months on a civil society capable of voicing critical opinions gave the proceedings a sense of urgency.

These pressures were illustrated dramatically during the first day’s lunch break. While making the short, ten meter trip across the hotel driveway to the restaurant where lunch was being served, several conference attendees were summarily arrested. A German journalist who happened to be present photographed the operation with his mobile phone. When he did not heed police warnings to cease documenting the arrests, they accelerated their squad car, hitting him in the legs. Uninjured, he stood there in shock as the police stepped out of their car and took his phone. The password-protected phone, without pictures, would be returned a few hours later by a junior officer claiming to have “found it” in a parking lot.

This stood in stark contrast to the Civil G8 (“Civil G8 is your opportunity to discuss global problems”) meeting I had attended a week earlier. With the exception of a brief visit from Russian President Vladimir Putin, the Russian state was not visibly present. There were no police cordons, no arrests, no car-rammings. In fact, it was characterised by exceptional harmony and a progressive, participatory structure.

While there had been an element of opposition within the Other Russia conference, the Civil G8 was sponsored by the state itself. The recommendations that emerged at the Civil G8, which broke off into discussion groups tackling questions of climate change, human rights, business and society, and poverty and development were to be presented to leaders at the G8 Summit in St Petersburg. In fact Putin received the recommendations in person when he dropped in on one of the plenary sessions.
When Putin entered the plenary hall at the Mezhdunarodnaya hotel where the Civil G8 was being held, he did so with no visible security. That is what representatives of global civil society organisations like Transparency International, Amnesty International and CIVICUS saw. However, outside, according to witnesses, three city blocks had been cleared and snipers positioned on neighbouring rooftops. As Putin’s motorcade made its way to the conference site, bystanders were herded by soldiers into underpasses and held there.

Plenary sessions, break-out sessions and a leader that comes to listen to civil society’s concerns – they seem like the right ingredients. But the situation for the media, for political opposition and for civil society groups whose work goes beyond service delivery tells a different story. And it is this dissonance that was the defining quality of my brief stay in Russia.

This dissonance was reflected too in the divergent reactions to the civil society forums, with some praising a surprisingly open and engaged Putin for providing an unprecedented space for civil society, while others maintained a great suspicion of the proceedings. The Other Russia also polarised the civil society community. There was sharp criticism on account of some of the extreme political views espoused by some of the participants, or the possible for intsrumentalisation by British or American governments trying to even scores or promote an ideological agenda. For others again it was the last gasp of Russia’s brief period of chaotic democracy.

I think it was useful for Transparency International to be present and to support both events. In cold, utilitarian terms, both had great value in terms of our visibility and the forging of connections with other members of civil society. Both provided a forum for Russian civil society groups, especially those from beyond Moscow and St Petersburg, to meet their international peers. And perhaps, some members of the grey ranks of the Russian bureaucracy saw that civil society is not a danger to be feared, but potential partners that can help find solutions to the complex problems facing all countries including Russia.