Inside Russia

Moscow — Outside the Chechen village of Samashki, two distinct types of Russian soldiers man separate checkpoints. A group of Interior Ministry troops, some in black masks, threateningly display their weapons, peering suspiciously into a stopped car as one of them gruffly checks its passengers' identifications. Down the road, a group of khaki-clad soldiers belonging to the Russian army also flag down the car — to politely bum some matches before waving it on.

There are no Armenian lobbyists in this remote Russian town, but when it comes to the community's image, it does not lack the activists who could make things happen. Saribeg Antranigovitch Sofouyan is not a lobbyist, and neither is his friend Krikor Khourdayan. But they both have an excellent feel of what is public relations. Sofouyan is a master builder who emigrated to Rotsov on Don from Georgia decades ago. Khourdayan is a music professor whose ancestors were among the early Armenians who settled along the Eton River more than 200 years ago.

It used to be called the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, the USSR. It was supposed to be colorblind, a society of equals where communism was above petty notions like nationalism, faith and ethnicity. That was what it was supposed to be, until one day it all turned upside down with the collapse of the Soviet Union. Today the Russian Federation celebrates its independence from the USSR on the 24th of August, and every republic is on its own, each trying to come to grips with the new realities of life.

Moscow — Nezavisimaya Gazeta burst into the bland Russian media scene in 1990, brightening the still drab street kiosks with a very untraditional band of pink and red that ran through the big black letters boldly declaring its name and motto in two words: Independent Newspaper. That was then, and this is now. After several years of going stale as bright reporters dropped away in search of a serious salary, the brainchild of editor-in-chief Vitaly Tretyakov crumbled late in May for lack of funds, a victim of the freedoms it helped bring to Russia.

Moscow — Every day a familiar scene is played out on the streets of Moscow. Policemen sporting berets, bullet-proof vests and Kalashnikov assault rifles stop a man and ask for his documents. The man, easily rec­ognizable by his dark features and five o'clock shadow as a native of the Caucasus, hands over his red Soviet passport with a shrug and stands silently while the cops look it over.

Moscow — A leading U.S. oil company cuts capital spending on a project to develop a rich field in Kazakhstan from $500 million to $50 million because it is not realizing expected profits. Armenia recommissions a nuclear power plant to provide for a third of its energy needs at a cost of $60 million, despite its struggling economy and cash shortage. What do these unrelated events, which took place this year in nations separated by mountain ranges, seas, thousands of miles and ethnic and language differences, have in common?

Ultra-rightw ing politician Vladimir Zhirinovsky has lost many battles on the floor of the Russian Parliament, but the one he remembers most is his defeat by Dr. Arthur N. Chilingarov. The coveted post was that of Deputy Chairman of the Duma, the lower house of the 450-member Parliament of the Russian Federation, and the choice was between extremism and the voice of reason.

Nor Nakhichevan, Russia — A lot has changed since the early 14th century, but the people of this 214-year-old Armenian community in southern Russia still remember Ani, the city they were forced to abandon hundreds of years ago, and Empress Catherine the Great for giving them a new lease on life. Chosen in the 10th century by Ashot III the Merciful to be the capital of Armenia, Ani had flourished under the Bagratid Dynasty but later occupied by the Byzantine, sacked by the Seljuk Turks and finally destroyed by an earthquake in 1319.

Excerpted from A History of the Armenian People, vol. II, by George A. Bournoutian