“Listen, Rita,” Karin said. She was weary. She
was going to let a source down, it was something she hated and never did.
“Nobody has anything against you or your business. I bet you can’t remember the
day when an investigator bothered you last time. However, some of your clients
are screwed.”
Tension crept between them.
“So, go ahead, tell me,” Rita said. “Who are
you talking about?”
“It’s Krylov. He has screwed up, and someone –
some very powerful people – might be after him. We . . . they . . . need
evidence against him. Any kind of evidence will do.”
Rita’s confident smile was still there on her
face.
“I like you too, Karin Erntemann, and let me
tell you I don’t say it often to journalists. Now I gather that you’re asking
me to speak up? Karin, I won’t risk my business for our new friendship.”
She would risk it. Karin has already known
that. Not for their friendship, but because she would have to.
“Rita, I’m not happy with it. I don’t like it
any better than you do. I just can’t see any other way out.”
Rita was observing her, she did not say
anything. She was pale, her angles harsh, wolfish. There were tiny wrinkles at
the corners of her eyes and around her mouth. All her aggression and greed was
there on her face, but she still looked younger than her fifty-one years.
Karin sighed.
“Why are you so hostile? I don’t want to harm
you. Listen, the police could have raided your place and take your laptops.
They also have professional computer programmers who could hack your laptops
without a court warrant, remote searching is what they call it, right? Yes, I
know that you’ve got a hell of a security system, but you know each system has
weaknesses. Experts could find a way to screw you over if they want to.
However, we aren’t after you, Rita. I didn’t want that, so I warned you in
advance.”
“Should I say ‘thank you’?”
“When I came to you, I risked that you would
delete all your video files or get some of your hackers delete them or destroy
the laptops. Yet I’m here. Nobody will bring charges against you. We only want
some information. We won’t ask anything about your other clients. We won’t ask
about substance abuse. We won’t even ask about your taxes. For all I know, you
pay taxes as an escort agency, right? We’ll be very discreet. We want Krylov
and nothing else.” Karin was serious as she faced the other woman.
Rita was not smiling now, she did not even look
at Karin. Her face was rigid, she bit down on her lip. Her eyes, normally
ruthless and very intent, seemed confused.
“Even if you are telling the truth, and it’s a
big if, you’ll ruin my business.”
“I am telling the truth. And it’s not like
they’ll raid your place and name and shame all your clients and put you behind
bars. It’s Krylov alone. Nobody have to know that you were an informant.”
“Do you think I can make it all right with
disclaimers?” Rita asked with controlled anger.
“I’m sure you’ll deal with it.”
“I would’ve never thought that a snob woman
like you would come up with a plan like that.”
“Neither would I. Told you I hated it, but I
can’t give up my case.”
**
Within a couple of days, a strange crime sent
shock waves through Austria, Russia, and most European countries. The news made
headlines all over the world.
Unknown perpetrators hacked the computer system
of Rita Aldermann, a businesswoman who had a luxury escort agency. The hackers
have stolen some private video files of Rita’s guests. They have leaked one
video that featured three unnamed, pretty, blond girls and Krylov, a Russian
minister and former entrepreneur, a close friend of Putin. Russian
professionals have removed it from the Internet in a few hours, but it popped
up at other websites. It seemed the hackers were masterful, they have left no
traces.
Krylov was married for thirty years, he had a
nice, modest, middle-aged wife and grown children.
A successful politician he was, but his career
was over now. He had to resign within twenty-four hours after the scandal. Had
not he left his position in the Ministry of Energy, Putin would have fired him.
His projects, oil deals with European Union countries and Eastern European
countries like Ukraine, stalled.
Rita Aldermann denied that she had anything to
do with Krylov’s relationship with her girls. She was not a madam, she dealt
with models and escort girls, she employed girls who kept company for
businessmen during corporate events. If the girls and their clients took their
relationship a few steps further, it was not Rita’s fault. She has always told
her girls to take care of themselves and do not do anything foolish. Neither
did she know who had leaked the tape; she guessed some tabloid journalist
wanted to make headlines, or one of her former boyfriends played a sick joke on
her, out of jealousy.
Rumors had it that Rita Aldermann offered the
video to the police. Some suspected there was political motivation behind the
case. Nobody brought any charges against Rita Aldermann. Probably she had good
friends everywhere. It seemed she emerged from the scandal unscathed.
Of course, there was a thrill – people guessed
who would be next? Rita Aldermann had rich and respectable clients,
jet-setters. They must have been terrified. However, no more video popped up.
People had to accept that Rita Aldermann, indeed, had a reputable agency.
Karin stayed away from the show. She found it
rude and tasteless. She hated that she had to use this trick. However, she had
to admit it worked.
She decided to follow up Tanya’s case and visit
the girl. They have moved from their apartment to a better, safer neighborhood.
It was mid-November of 2013. There was
something strange going on in Ukraine.
**
Tanya’s quiet mother has greeted Karin with the
same warmth. She served Kyiv chicken and babka
for her. Her tiny, time-worn home was neat and clean, and she talked to Karin
with an awkward yet very friendly smile.
Tanya was still pale. She did not talk and did
not smile. Her mama said with a sigh that she had no friends, she shunned
people whenever she could, she was unwilling to leave their apartment. She was
struggling at school, she had concentration problems, but she did her best to
overcome them. She wanted to go to the university, her mama said with an
apologetic yet proud smile. How could they afford that, it was an enigma, but
again, what Tanya’s mom would not give to see her graduate and have a better,
brighter life.
Karin could tell that Tanya still had a long
way to go. One day, many, many years later, Tanya would leave behind her
ordeal. She would be a strong, intelligent, sensitive woman. She would have a
good profession that she would love. She would have control over her life. It
was in the cards for her.
**
Karin could not return to Moscow. She was a
crime suspect. Russian authorities still held her responsible for Johann
Eckel’s death.
She wanted to stay in Ukraine. Her sixth sense
told her to stay. Ukrainian people had enough of corrupted politicians,
backward politics, poverty, and Moscow’s tentacles that suffocated their
economy and independence. Something was up.
It started on 21st November 2013. In
the evening hours, dozens of young protesters appeared on the Independence
Square, Maidan Nezalezhnosti. They were talking, shouting and laughing. Within
a few days, there were thousands and thousands of them. The protests escalated
in other Ukrainian cities.
Karin covered the Kyiv protests. This time,
Alois did not object when she asked for professional security guards for her
crew.
Kyiv looked majestic. The night sky above the
Maidan was not completely dark, light pollution faded it. Electric blue neon
signs cast light on the huge Soviet monument and the buildings. The place was a
strange cross between grand, minimalistic Socialist architecture and traces of
ornate Neo-Renaissance, neo-Baroque, neo-Classic style. Cars glided by on the nearby
streets. It looked like any bustling Eastern European city.
Karin could detect groups of uniformed police
officers, talking to each other, laughing.
The protesters were desperate and angry, yet
the atmosphere was almost celebratory. The crowd was pulsing and pumping on the
square and the nearby streets. The police shut down subways, yet more and more
people arrived. Flashes of warm yellow and royal blue – the Ukrainian flag –
were there everywhere. Many protesters waved European Union flags.
“Why are you here?” Karin asked a young man in
Russian.
“We love Ukraine, that’s why,” the man said in
Russian and in broken English. “We want a change. Our politicians failed us. We
have nobody to trust.”
“You should have seen our Facebook page,”
another man said. He was grinning, his brown eyes were bright. “Lots of people
support us.”
“We won’t go home until Yanukovych resigns or
signs our EU contract. We’ve asked sleeping pads and hot drinks on Facebook,”
someone said.
“Ukraine has already made a decision. We want
to be part of the EU.”
“We don’t want Russia anymore.”
“We don’t want the corruption.”
“I wanted to be a medical student,” an
attractive young girl said. “I did well at high school. My teachers said I was
gifted.” She was bitter. “I had to give up school, because my parents couldn’t
afford it. If you want to study, you’ve got to pay. At the University of
Medicine, your entry is $10,000. Exams and grades cost money, too. How could we
pay for that? My mama earns $300 a month. My dad has no job. Now I’m a waitress
and my parents want me to marry someone–“
“Sure,” someone interrupted them in Russian. A
thin, pale woman. She had a Slavic face, broad cheekbones, chiseled lips. She
looked forty-something. “Teachers ask for money. What could they do? I’m a
teacher. My salary is less than $150. The principal asks support from the kids’
parents for ‘school charity’ to keep the school working –“
“Doctors ask for money, too,” a tiny, round
grandma said, in half Russian, half Ukrainian. She had an angry, weary face and
full, thick grey hair. “My husband had a heart attack last month and we paid
$400 for the doctor. He should be in hospital now, but they don’t have enough
hospital beds.”
“I thought Ukraine had free medical care,”
Karin said. “And a free education system.”
“Free!” the grandma gave an angry gesture.
“Pretty free, I tell you. You don’t have to pay for the hospital, yes. You put
money right in the doctors’ pockets. If you don’t, just see what kind of care
you’ll get.” She lifted a fist and put her thumb between her index finger and
middle finger; it meant that non-paying patients received low quality
care.
“Same with teachers.”
“And judges. You won’t get a fair trial in
Ukraine. If you have money, you can get away with anything.”
“Some are above the law.”
“Everyone wants bribes in Ukraine. It’s a
custom. It’s very rude not to give money if you want anything,” a man said, he
had neat grey hair, a beard, and a gentle face, he was like a cheerful grandpa.
Sure he was old enough to be most of the youngsters’ grandpa.
“I wanted to open a café and I can’t pay the
bribes for all the permissions,” a tall, large-boned young man said, raising
his voice.
“That’s because politicians stole our money.
Even Yanukovych admitted that they steal most of the social service money.”
“Ukraine had money, but it went to politicians’
pockets.”
“They privatized everything after ’89. For
themselves and their families.” They meant the privatization of state-run
businesses and factories.
“We’ve been waiting for twenty years to clean
up after ’91. Twenty years!” a man said, he was in his late twenties or early
thirties. “Now we have the chance, and
that idiot,” he meant Yanukovych, “he fucks up. We had enough. It’s time to
kick him out.”
“You think the next one will be better?” A huge
man sneered. He was at least six feet tall and overweighed. “The Tymoshenko
bitch was better, eh? One is like the other. See, I’m a worker. If you folks
fuck with Russia, we’re screwed. They won’t buy our goods. The factory will
close. I’ll lose my job.”
“Then why are you here?” someone asked sharply.
Hateful glances flashed.
“He’s right! They’re thieves. They won’t help
us. I don’t trust them.”
“You think it’s only about the EU?” one of them
addressed Karin. “No way. We want to end corruption.”
“We’re here
to make a change,” the man who wanted a café explained. “Do you believe that we can make a change?”
he used wide gestures like Levinson.
Karin gave him a big smile.
“Sure. The world hears your voices now.”
The grandma stroked her shoulder. The café man
was grinning, he gave her a thumbs-up.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for coming
here. You out there,” he meant Austria, probably Western Europe, “have free
media. Write our story. Tell the world that we are here and want a better
future– “
Karin nodded, she was serious.
“That’s why I came here.”
She faced the camera.
“Hi, this is Karin Erntemann from the
Independence Square of Kyiv, Ukraine. It’s a live broadcast. I am interviewing
protesters. Some already say that Ukraine is the first crack on the new Iron
Curtain. The protesters want to tell the world that they exist. They say that
they will not give up. They want to live freely and happily in their country.
They say Ukraine has chosen the European Union.”
Her real-time report made it to Austria’s main
channels and top channels in Germany and France.
She even had Ukrainian fan base. Ukrainian
press nicknamed her the Wicked Witch of the West; it was a hint of the Broadway
musical, Wicked. They compared her reports to Stephanie J. Block’s intense performances.
Karin loved it.
**
Late November days were cold and hard. Tension
crept high on the Maidan, it was almost unbearable. Special police forces kept
rioters away from government buildings. People were talking about a civil war.
The rioters were ten thousands by now. Police
stopped buses, yet more and more protesters arrived from all over Ukraine.
Karin and her crew were still there, and it was
getting dangerous. Demonstrators were not peaceful anymore. There was no
looting and they did not damage the ornate Secessionist buildings, they did not
burn cars, they did not break glass storefronts, not yet, but they shouted
obscenities at police, Yanukovych and his government. People were talking and
second-guessing, and Karin could see fear in their eyes. November 29, the date
of the Vilnius meeting, was nearing, and many thought that Yanukovych would not
sign anything.
Putin’s press secretary told that Russia had
nothing to do with Kyiv’s decision. Yanukovych was talking about trilateral
negotiations. European Union leaders said that Ukraine had main issues with
democracy and human rights. Things did not look good.
At the end of November, Yanukovych travelled to
Vilnius, but he refused to sign the free trade agreement with the European Union.
Violent street fights flared at different
points of Kyiv; protesters and police forces clashed. Karin and her crew
recorded everything. She was afraid, but she never showed it on camera, she was
cold and calm as ever.
At night, she had nightmares and flashbacks.
She could see herself at gunpoint with Eckel.
This was probably the most dangerous job Karin
has covered. She knew she could have been hurt.
Gone were the uniformed policemen; special
force police had helmets and shields.
There was an ugly scene going on right next to
her. A couple of rioters attacked police who beat them up with batons. Police
knocked a man on the ground. They kicked his head and stomped on his ribs. The
man was on the ground, his face covered in blood.
Karin was shivering as she signaled to her
cameraman not to leave the melée and record the scene. People shoved and pushed
her. She was afraid that they might separate her from her crew. When a crowd of
people was out of control, everything could happen. She thought about the
horror stories she always heard about other reporters. Lara Logan’s name came
to her mind.
She also knew that far-right extremists could
track her down on the streets or in her hotel. She thought of Tetiana
Chornovol. She wrote an article about the wealth of Ukraine’s Interior Minister
Zakharchenko. In a few hours, a group of men abducted her and beat her up. She
suffered permanent injuries.
Karin has completed a training program a few
months ago. They simulated emergencies like this. Now everything was real.
Someone could assault her or torn her to pieces or stomp her to death.
A policeman grabbed her arm. He pulled her down
the ground and kicked her leg with a heavy foot. Pain. Intense. She was
screaming.
The
bastard smashed my knee.
He dragged her along on the ground. She barely
could sense that other police were beating rioters with batons next to her.
Someone grabbed her left arm. One of her security guards. He hauled her away
from the policeman and dragged her to her feet as she was gasping for air.
Karin’s knee had dark bruises for a couple of
days. Her scene appeared on every major website and TV channel in Europe, the
United States, and Australia within a few hours.
**
Karin met Sonya Levinson early in March.
Levinson was not in Moscow anymore. She has
received dozens of death threats. She asked for a political asylum in Belgium.
Many countries, France, the United Kingdom, the United States, and Germany
amongst them, would have gladly accepted the well-respected lady politician as
their citizen. However, she chose Belgium, because she could work for her
causes there.
Karin met her in Brussels where Levinson lived
these days.
They met in an elegant restaurant for an
interview.
“There has been a lot going on since we last
met,” Levinson said with a pensive smile.
Karin nodded.
“Sure, Sonya.”
“I’ve followed up your work, Karin. You’ve done
a good job.”
For a second, their eyes met. Karin could see
triumph in Levinson’s eyes. Karin knew what she meant.
“Thank you, Sonya.” Without Levinson’s help,
she could not have tracked down those who had a hand in Heidi Carlson’s death.
Krylov would still be in the Ministry of Energy. He might have given the deal
to Gazprom. At least, they bought some time.
For a superficial listener, the conversation
seemed casual and polite. Levinson might have talked about Karin’s latest jobs.
Karin was there when the Arctic 30 left their
prison. The activists looked dazed and shaken. “Ten years, that’s a lot. I
thought I might never see my father alive again,” Captain Peter Willcox told
the reporters.
Karin was there amongst the journalists who
were waiting for the Pussy Riot girls at their first public appearance in
Krasnoyarsk, Siberia. They got amnesty. Once Maria Alyokhina was free, she flew
to Krasnoyarsk to meet her friend and fellow fighter, Nadezhda Tolokonnikova.
The girls, held separately, met after two years. They hugged each other, then
shook hands and faced the reporters. Both were smiling. They seemed pale in the
glaring spotlights, but they looked healthy and physically unharmed. Flashing
cameras created a strange stroboscopic effect, it made the scene outlandish.
Karin had a two-minute session with Nadya and Masha. She talked to them in
Russian.
“It’s a publicity stunt,” Nadya told her. “For
the Olympics in February. Putin wants to come across as a good guy.”
“I wish I could have stayed in jail,” Masha
added. They would have been free in March anyway. Two months more or less did
not matter much after two years of humiliation.
Karin thought about Ukraine. Sure as hell Putin
wanted to make nice wherever he could. Soon the world would have good reasons
to condemn him.
The EU has promised Ukraine nearly one billion
dollar in loans, however, Russia offered billions of dollars. Putin also
imposed economic sanctions on Ukraine, just to demonstrate how he could damage
the country’s economy. Russian gas prices have crept up.
Early in February, Yanukovych let down Ukraine
and the European Union again. He backed away from the agreement.
Karin covered the tragic events when the
Berkut, Ukraine’s special police force, sent snipers against unarmed
demonstrators on 18th February.
The protesters were marching along toward the
Verkhovna Rada, the Ukrainian Parliament. They demanded to restore the
Constitution in its 2004 form. In the morning hours, the advancing crowd swept
away the barricade of trucks, along with, the police cordon. Police fired at
the unarmed civilians with live ammunition. They used AK-47 assault rifles,
shotguns and handguns. They threw flash grenades and stun grenades into the
crowd. Some grenades contained metal shrapnel. The protesters tore the pavement
and fought back with cobblestones. Women were pouring alcohol and petrol into
empty bottles, to create petrol bombs.
The rioters burnt tires to obscure visibility,
because the snipers aimed at people’s heads, hearts and necks. Volunteering
doctors in the makeshift hospital agreed that they were trigger-happy and they
aimed to kill people. Even a volunteer nurse, Olesya Zhukovska, was shot in the
neck. “I’m dying,” she has sent a message on her cell phone to her social media
profile; the image went viral in a few hours. The girl, however, survived her
injury; a doctor has performed a life-saving surgery on her.
Police were beating up protesters with clubs:
women, old people, students. They set a media tent on fire.
Interior Minister Vitaliy Zakharchenko
threatened the rioters with “all means” of violence if they did not leave the
Maidan. General Prosecutor Viktor Pshonka said, “Organisers of mass protests will be held accountable. We will demand
the heaviest punishment both for those who revved people up to take part in
today's action and for those who organised and controlled them.” Yanukovych threatened opposition leaders with
prosecution.
At
night, snipers shot at opposition politicians who were onstage. They injured
Oleksandr Turchynov. They attacked the Maidan. Police raided the Trade Unions
building, the headquarters of the protesters, killing four rioters and burning
down the beautiful building.
The next day, 19th February,
security forces tried to burn down the Kyiv Conservatory where protesters set
up a field hospital for the wounded. The rioters stopped them.
The failed leaders of the country published a decree
that the Security Service of Ukraine “can search, seize property, detain
protesters at will,” they did not need a court order for that. They could
kidnap protesters and transport them wherever they wanted.
Civilization crumbled and decayed within a few
days. Europe and the world watched the events with growing dismay and fear.
European Union ministers, French Laurent Fabius, German Frank-Walter Steinmeier
and Polish Radoslaw Sikorski intervened as mediators. With their help,
Yanukovych signed a compromise deal with the opposition.
By that time, the Maidan looked like a war
zone. Thick black smoke hovered everywhere. The horizon seemed orange with
fires; tires were burnt. The rioters torn up the pavement and they built
barricades of broken furniture. Debris of wood and cobblestones covered the
ground. At other places, the ground was dark with black, incinerated wood and
tires, soot, and grey ashes.
Some protesters got hurt when the barricades
were burning. Two protesters were on fire. Others were bleeding, their faces
turned into a deep red, liquid mess.
There were whispers about Russia’s role. Russia
sent plenty of explosives to an airport close to Kyiv. Russian FSB and SBU
agents arrived to Kyiv to help Ukrainian Security Services. Russia denied this.
Some said the snipers might very well be Russians. However, most people thought
the snipers belonged to the Ukrainian Security Services, a special
anti-terrorist unit, Alfa Team, trained in Russia, but they were still
Ukrainians.
One thing was sure. Russia intervened. Kremlin
politicians encouraged Yanukovych to do everything to crush the protests.
Yanukovych listened to them willingly. Later on, documents proved that Russia
has provided two billion dollars for Ukraine right at these days. Within a few
hours, Vitaliy Zakharchenko, Ukraine’s Interior Minister, gave permission to
special forces to use live ammunition and combat weapons against Ukrainians.
Karin and her crew approached the fighters.
They were as close as possible. She was afraid for their lives. Those days,
about seventy protesters died on the streets. Flowers and candles marked the
place where they died.
Next to a small booth with a cheerful bright
red Coca-Cola garden umbrella, corpses were lying; fellow fighters brought them
there. The bodies were covered with black plastic bags and green or blue
bed-covers. A dead man was covered with a flower-patterned orange blanket, the
cobblestones were dark red around his head. Passers-by observed the morbid
scene. An old woman hid her face with a thin hand.
At night, Karin cried in her hotel room. She recalled the hopeful,
laughing young people on the Maidan. Some of them were dead now. She, a
reporter, had access to a list of the victims, and the list became longer with
each day. Some men vanished and were found dead in one or two days. Evidence
suggested that their captors tortured them before killing them.
Most victims died when the snipers opened fire at the protesters. Some
died of gas poisoning. Some of them died of trauma as police forces beat them
up. A sixty-two years old woman died of her injuries after the Berkut beat her
up.
Some victims were college students. Many were in their late twenties or
early thirties.
One victim was a geography and biology teacher. Another one was a physics
teacher.
There were Afghan war veterans; they survived Afghanistan, they came home
to die at the hands of their compatriots.
Some of the victims were old men, fifty-eight, sixty-two, eighty-two.
Grandpas missing from their families. They would never tell colorful tales to
their grandchildren. Goodness, even grandmas
were beaten to death.
There were kids who would never return to their homes. Karin imagined
their pale, nervous mothers, waiting for the familiar footsteps to sound.
Some protesters had small kids who were waiting for their fathers in vain.
Karin cried. Something was broken forever, it was irreparable. Probably
she was part of it when she encouraged the protesters. Probably her reports and
evidence on Eastern European state-level crime were eye-openers for some, they
might have been one of the many, many triggers. Survivor’s guilt kicked in. She
suspected Anton would call her. She switched off her cell phone.
Karin was there when Yulia Tymoshenko, straight
out of Kachanivska penal colony, appeared on the Maidan in a wheelchair. She
looked thin, but she was fiery and uncompromising as she was talking to the
celebrating crowd. Her release was another triumph for the rioters.
“Fellow Ukrainians,” Tymoshenko told the
protesters, waiting for a second, just the right time to get a dramatic effect.
She knew how to speak. “When I came back to Kyiv, the first thing that I wanted
to do was to come to the barricades. I wanted to see you. You have made a
revolution of dignity.”
The crowd went crazy. Hands flew in the air.
Protesters waved Ukrainian flags and EU flags.
“Ukraine is a free country, thanks to you. It’s
your victory. No politician could
have done what you have done. You have the right to rule this country. Together
we will bring to justice those who were responsible for this,” she gestured at
the ruined square.
Uproar from the audience.
“Our fellows didn’t die in vain,” Tymoshenko
went on. “You, Ukrainian people, have your place in the family of European
nations. Your rich culture, your talent makes Europe better and brighter. You
are ready to defend your European values. Ukraine,” she paused, lifting a
strong hand, raising her voice, “is part of Europe.” People were crying,
laughing and shouting, they held up Tymoshenko’s large images, or they held
lighters in the air. The tiny flames looked like flashes of hope, thousands of
them. The crowd was in a trance.
Karin interviewed Arseniy “Yats” Yatsenyuk
again. He was one of the organizers of the uprising. Along with Vitaliy
Klitschko, Yats was one of the opposition politicians who signed the compromise
contract with Yanukovych. Maidan protesters booed them for that, however, it
ended the carnage.
On 25th February, Yanukovych was
declared internationally wanted for mass killings of civilians, along with
Zakharchenko, the Interior Minister who ordered special forces to kill
Ukrainians.
Not everyone was happy with the results though.
Some did not like Tymoshenko. Others – mostly southern and eastern cities with
strong Russian heritages – hated the Maidan and wanted to join Russia. They
threatened with bloodshed and a civil war. The country was torn into two
hostile parts.
Karin shrugged away the flashbacks in a second.
“I’ve heard that you work for the European
Liberal Forum,” She told Levinson. “It’s a political association of liberal
theorists, groups and institutes. You’re a strong voice from Eastern Europe.”
“Thank you, Karin.” She laughed as she waved a
hand. “Eastern Europe needs plenty of strong voices now. We’ve got a lot to do,
you’ve seen it yourself.”
“I guess you focus on human rights and
environment.”
“Yeah, that’s what I do. We seek eco-friendly
technologies that reach through borders. Got to admit I’m getting selfish here.
I want to return to Russia someday. Take it from me, clean energy itself would
be enough to undermine Putin’s power. He has no reasonable plans, no strong
economy, he doesn’t use our human resources, all he has is oil. Green energy
would stabilize energy prices and energy security. It would change the dynamics
of world economy.”
“So you support the idea of a trans-national
green energy network.”
“Yes. In the United States and Australia,
researchers have calculated how they could cover all their energy consumption
with renewables. They say renewables can provide base-load power, even if the
resources are intermittent. They say it’s possible if people use the right
combination of renewables.”
“Are you talking about Mark Jacobson’s work?”
Karin asked. Dr. Jacobson was a professor of Stanford University, a director of
the university’s Atmosphere and Energy Program.
Levinson smiled at her.
“Yeah.
For many years, he has performed plenty of computer simulations of energy
generating systems to support his theory. He matched energy demand with
renewables. He used energy consumption statistics from
earlier years. We’ve got others to back him up, a research group led by Mark
Diesendorf. Dr. Diesendorf is an Australian associate professor, the director
of Sustainability Center in Sydney. He and his fellow scientists ran detailed
computer simulations of renewable power. They
used hourly data on power demand. They support what Dr. Jacobson says. David
MacKay of the University of Cambridge says the same. It’s tricky, but possible.
According to the International Energy Agency, people all over the world should
build 12,000 onshore wind turbines and 3,600 offshore ones; 45 geothermal power
plants; 55 solar power plants and photovoltaics over 325 million square meters
every year until 2050. We could implement electric cars. We would still need gas-fired
power plants that capture and store carbon, but much less of them. ”
“Scientists say it is very well possible to
switch to renewables.”
“They still deal with challenges. Transmission
is an issue. And they should find place for the equipment, since it requires
huge territories. If people start giving up fossil fuels, they will have to
build new infrastructure for renewables. It has high short-term costs. On the
other hand, the projects would create lots of jobs.”
“Green jobs.”
“Yeah. At least three times as many jobs as
fossil fuels. Manufacturing, maintaining, constructing, operating systems,
transportation of equipment, replacing infrastructure, building thousands of
transmission lines, you name it. Workers are afraid that they’d lose their jobs
if we switched. Not so. And scientists always work on new technologies. Getting
more energy efficient is easier and cheaper than producing more energy.
Jacobson says a combination of hydropower, wind energy and solar power could
reduce water consumption and energy
consumption by 40 to 55 percent. Non-renewables waste plenty of energy. In the
United States, they capture and reuse wasted heat. They also get rid of already
existing pollution, they extract carbon dioxide from the atmosphere; the Obama
government supports this technology. They want a 80 percent drop in greenhouse
gas emissions by 2050. You can tell there’s no chance for something like that
in Eastern Europe. Now, renewables work out in Denmark and Sweden. Germany also
goes this direction. Thank goodness for Angela Merkel. If only all the
conservatives were like her. Even China has recognized that it’s an investment
for the future. Lately, China installed more wind turbines than the United
States, the European Union and India altogether.”
“That’s impressive. Do you think it is possible
in Russia, too?”
Levinson laughed.
“That’s a toughie. The industry is advancing
fast. New technologies become cheaper. Renewables operate at very low costs and
the resources are free. It takes much less time to build solar panels or wind
farms than nuclear power plants. And see all the health benefits. Less polluted
water and air mean less respiratory diseases, cardiovascular issues and cancer.
Lower costs of health care, that’s what some politicians say. Yet we need a sharp
turn to achieve that.”
“I wonder what you think about the current
Ukrainian-Russian conflict.”
“There’s more of it than a Ukrainian-Russian
conflict,” Levinson said. “It’s a matter of different world-views clashing. On
one side, you can find strong and bright young people who want freedom and
change. They are full of hope and want to change the world for the better. See,
each generation has its pioneers, let me say I was one, too, back in the day.”
“You still do your fair share,” Karin
complimented with a smile.
“Now, on the other side, there are conservative
people, certainly they are very honest and well-meaning. They want to protect
their traditions, their values that come from countless generations. They
respect their heritage and they are afraid of a change. They think a change may
lead to depravity. Or it may cost them their identity. To an extent, their fear
is righteous. A turn can change things for the worse or the better. We may have
our guesses, but only time will tell what becomes of it. Anyway, I think we
have to take chances now and then. Things may change, life won’t be perfect, no
way, but it can be better than it is now. Nothing is worse than those who hate
every change and want to move backward. They hate everything that is different
or new. They see an enemy in everyone who wants to change the world for the
better. They say they are doing this in the name of tradition and national
values. Now, you can’t turn back time. Ways that were good enough for our
ancestors will not do anymore. The world is never static, it’s dynamic. If you
refuse to keep up with it, it will leave you behind.”
There was a lull.
“Thank you, Sonya. I admire you for saying
that. However, I still want to know what you’d say –“
“About the Ukrainian-Russian conflict? Sure as
hell I don’t support Putin. I don’t support the violation of the integrity of
Ukraine. Russians can see propaganda and manipulated news everywhere; do you
think they have access to free media or uncontrolled Internet content? However,
I am sure that there will be people who see through this. They will speak up
for Ukraine. I guess it will be the young and the revolutionary, just like in
Ukraine.”
“Can you see any chance for a change in
Russia?”
Levinson’s face was hard.
“I can, but it won’t happen any soon. It won’t
come easy. It’ll be a rough ride, but I’m not afraid to take it.”
Karin considered her. Levinson was, at least,
credible. She never had a corruption scandal and she was not rich. She was a
survivor of a Siberian penal colony. She had a sharp mind and focus, she never
missed a detail. She was confident, relentless, and she was not going to slow
down.
Karin remembered what she had heard about her.
Lately, Levinson visited operas, exhibitions and literary meetings in Brussels.
She attended the events with a female friend.
“Good luck, Sonya,” Karin said with a big
smile. She meant it.
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