July 9th / 11th
"The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming"
My first experience with the Red Menace was in elementary school. The year
was 1962, and America was seemingly on the brink of war with the Soviet
Union, who had placed nuclear missiles in Cuba. As a result, my classmates
and I had to practice bomb drills, in which we were told to bend over and
place our head between our knees. This technique was supposed to keep us safe
from radioactive fallout, much as duct tape now protects us from bio
terrorist hazards.
Last week I was reminded of those frantic drills when the FBI arrested
eleven Russian spies who had been living here in the United States since the
1990's. Members of the spy ring had been posing as typical American
suburbanites while gathering data on everything from Presidential elections, to
White House policy on Iran. By day they worked as accountants, real estate
agents, architects, professors, and other benign positions. One of the covert
Ruskies even liked to post seductive photos of herself on-line. What could
be more American than that? All in all, they just didn't seem dangerous.
Strangely enough, I wasn't frightened of the Russians forty-eight years ago
either.
Perhaps I suspected then what I know now, that the Cold War was more
contrived than coerced. I was raised on Boris and Natasha, and their repeatedly
failed attempts to blow up Bullwinkle. I also read "Spy vs Spy" cartoons in
MAD magazine which demonstrated that the good guys and bad guys were
essentially mirror images of each other. I watched James Bond movies and various
imitators, which romanticized secret agents. And then there was the film
which defined (and brought into clear perspective) the Russo/American
relationship. In the end, "The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming"
showed that our two peoples shared common feelings, and posed no threat to each
other, despite what our respective governments wanted us to believe.
Back then the Soviet Union was led by Nikita Kruschev, who was more like
Boris Badenov than Joseph Stalin, and most Russians were not even members of
the Communist party. The Cold War was largely manufactured and sustained
by intelligence officers from both nations in order to justify expenditures
for military and covert operations, and to distract their citizens from
more pressing problems of the day.
Today, President Obama is catching hell for failing to cap the largest oil
spill in history. His bail-out program is still netting bonuses for greedy
bankers who are, in turn, making relatively few loans. His so-called
healthcare reform did nothing to abate the rising cost of insurance premiums.
His jobs program hasn't netted any jobs except temporary ones for census
workers. And, his plan for ending the war has instead resulted in unprecedented
escalations, including more US troops killed in June than in any other
month since our ill advised invasion nine years ago. If ever the President
could use a distraction, it's now. And, Voila! There's a sudden return to the
good old days of xenophobia towards the Russians.
It's all too coincidental. After all, the FBI had been keeping an eye on
these Russian spies for nearly a decade, so why round them up now? Even
Vladimir Putin was shocked, calling the feds "out of control", and pointing to
the "positive gains that have been achieved in our relationship" (in recent
years). I'm not saying that Mr. Obama planned the raid, in fact, he denies
even knowing the agents were living here. But I'm sure the White House
isn't at all upset that a spy saga might bump the President off of the front
pages for awhile. Let's face it, we are a nation whose collective attention
is easily diverted away from real problems whenever something glitzier
comes along. That's why we love to hear about Jesse James, Sara Ferguson, and Al
Gore. And who's to say a little distraction isn't good for us in these
troubled times? For myself, I'm not going to think about oil, healthcare, or
unemployment. Instead, I'm going to prepare for an attack by Russian spies.
I'll just bend over, place my head between my knees, and wait for
everything to blow over (or blow up). Oh, and can someone please pass me the duct
tape?
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