Latest news with #Leningrad
Daily Mail
3 days ago
- Politics
- Daily Mail
Putin stages major war games on NATO's doorstep as submarine fires torpedoes at mock Western ship and Russia vows to conduct 'dozens' more naval drills this summer
Vladimir Putin has been staging major war games on NATO 's doorstep, sending a chilling threat to the West. Footage shows the dictator's warships practising military drills in the Baltic Sea - a major area of contention between NATO and Russia. The ships trained to counter marine drones and unmanned planes during the first of 'dozens' of drills promised by the dictator's navy this summer. In one exercise, a diesel submarine fired torpedoes at a mock Western ship and, in another, 30-mm AK-630 automatic rifles were used against 'floating mines'. The current display of power involves 20 warships and support vessels, 25 aircraft and helicopters, and 3,000 service personnel. The war games involve Russia's Baltic and North fleets with support from Aerospace Forces from Moscow and Leningrad military districts and 70 units of 'military and special equipment'. A key aim of the Putin drills is to train for 'defence of naval bases' in a sea where Russia and NATO compete for sway, according to the Baltic Fleet. Russia has access to the Baltic via Leningrad and Kaliningrad regions - but no less than eight NATO states front the sea. The ships trained to counter marine drones and unmanned planes during the first of 'dozens' of drills promised by the dictator's navy this summer In a direct warning to the West, the fleet's military council said its forces 'will participate in more that several dozen exercises on various tracks in the summer period'. A statement said: 'The efforts of the Baltic Fleet will be focused on securing the naval interests of the Russian Federation in the Baltic sea zone.' The sea is the focus of increasing tension between the West and Putin's burgeoning military machine. Estonia this month attempted to seize a Russian-bound oil tanker suspected of circumventing Western sanctions. In retaliation, Russia detained a Greek-owned oil tanker that had recently left an Estonian port, escalating maritime tensions in the region. Finland and Estonia have reported recent airspace violations by Putin's warplanes and Polish fighters intercepted a Russian Su-24 bomber performing 'dangerous' manoeuvres in international airspace over the Baltic Sea. Last month RAF Typhoons were scrambled from Malbork Air Base in Poland to intercept Russian military aircraft, including an Ilyushin Il-20M surveillance plane and two Su-30MKI fighters, approaching NATO airspace. There is also acute concern among NATO members over the security of undersea internet and communications cables, with the alliance launching Operation Baltic Sentry in January to enhance surveillance and protection. But Russia suffered a setback in Ukraine - with its newest powerful Dan-N jet drone destroyed by a missile system developed Ukrainian military intelligence. Footage shows the moment of destruction in the Odesa direction by a mobile anti-aircraft missile system equipped with R-73 missiles. Separately, Ukraine also conducted a sabotage operation more than 6,200 miles from its territory in Desantnaya Bay, Vladivostok, triggering explosions at the 155th Marine Brigade of the Pacific Fleet of the Russian Navy. Ukraine accused the bridge of mass war crimes, notably executions, including beheadings, torture in locations which as Bucha and Irpin. Two explosions of military equipment near Vladivostok led to a massive military and 'anti-terrorist' operation on Friday. Helicopters were scrambled over Desantnaya Bay near Vladivostok, with a major operation by the FSB secret service, military officers, anti-terrorism specialists, ambulances and police. In the wake of the explosions two trucks removed 'large objects covered with tarpaulin' under military guard. Russia has not informed its residents about the Ukrainian operation on its Pacific coast, instead telling people gas cylinders exploded in a car, an explanation widely mocked on social media. In Russia's latest strikes on civilians, a girl, nine, was killed in Zaporizhzhia region, while a 16 year old was wounded. 'These are the consequences of the enemy attack on the frontline village of the Pologovsky district,' said Ukrainian official Ivan Fedorov. 'The Russians hit residential buildings with [aerial bombs]. 'One house was destroyed.' A 66-year-old mangas killed in Russian shelling of Kherson overnight. In Rylsk, Kursk region, Ukraine reportedly hit a hotel where Russian military personnel were billeted.
South China Morning Post
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- South China Morning Post
The original picture discs that could get you thrown in a Soviet jail
Take out your earpods for a sec – really – so I can tell you a crazy story. (Or smack you – you should be more aware of your surroundings.) Music today is, of course, a commodity almost as readily available as water on tap – click a button or two and pretty much anything you can think of is yours to listen to. In the Soviet Union during the 1950s and 60s, authorities allowed only state-approved music, banning genres they considered decadent. Now imagine another place and time, the Soviet Union in the 1950s and 60s, where no music was allowed. (OK, I exaggerate: state-approved music was allowed but not even parents wanted to listen to that dreck – anything actually good was forbidden. Western radio stations were jammed, rock music was banned, records were confiscated at the border.) The authorities tried to seal off all of that Western decadence outside the Iron Curtain. But the pressure of rock 'n' roll was hard to contain, and inevitably the wall leaked. A lot. Especially in Leningrad (now St Petersburg), a Soviet port town dripping with incoming Western indulgence. Ships arrived with smuggled records (and worth-their-weight-in-gold Levi's jeans, as well as just about anything else cool from the West) in sailors' duffel bags and diplomatic pouches. Beatles records, along with those of other Western artists, had to be smuggled into the Soviet Union. Photo: AP Sooner or later you could find somebody who had smuggled in the latest Elvis or Beatles 45 record, and if you had enough roubles, and were willing to risk getting busted, that vinyl could be yours.
Russia Today
4 days ago
- Politics
- Russia Today
From psychiatric ward to Nobel prize: How a Jewish outcast became a great Russian poet
A Russian Jew who found spiritual kinship in Christianity and made it a tradition to write a Christmas poem each year. A man with an imperial imagination, shaped by the worldview of ancient Rome. Someone who defended the conquistadors and denounced Ukrainian independence. All of this – and more – describes Joseph Brodsky. Few writers achieve the status of a classic while still alive. Brodsky, deeply grounded in literary tradition and animated by a consciousness forged in antiquity, didn't just challenge conventions – he shattered them. Decades later, some of his choices still provoke. In the month he would have turned 85, RT revisits the life and legacy of Joseph Brodsky. They say childhood shapes who we are – and in Joseph Brodsky's case, that couldn't be more true. Within his first two years of life, he witnessed events that would leave an indelible mark on his future. Brodsky was born into a Jewish family in Leningrad (now St. Petersburg) on May 24, 1940. His father, a naval officer, was sent to the front when Nazi Germany launched Operation Barbarosa. During the brutal winter of 1941–1942, young Joseph endured the siege of Leningrad and was later evacuated with his mother to the city of Cherepovets. It was there that a Russian nanny quietly baptized him. After the war, the family was reunited in Leningrad. Brodsky would later recall those early years: 'My father wore his naval uniform for about two more years. He was an officer in charge of the photo lab at the Naval Museum, located in the most beautiful building in the entire city. And thus, in the whole empire. It was the former stock exchange – a structure far more Greek than any Parthenon.' This sense of imperial grandeur – part reverence, part irony – would stay with Brodsky for life. His youthful ambitions didn't yield immediate success. He failed to get into naval school, and after finishing eighth grade, took a job at a factory. Over the next few years, he worked as a stoker, a photographer, and even joined geological expeditions to the Russian Far East. Throughout it all, he pursued a rigorous self-education. Despite never receiving a formal literary degree, Brodsky emerged as a strikingly erudite voice. By the early 1960s, in his early twenties, he was reading poetry publicly in Leningrad. It was there that he met some of the era's most important poets – including Anna Akhmatova. A famous story survives from their first meeting. The aging Akhmatova asked the young Brodsky what a poet should do once they've mastered all the rhymes and rhythms of the language. Without hesitation, he answered, 'But there remains the grandeur of vision.' Brodsky was just 23 when Soviet reality collided with his rising career and brought it to an abrupt halt. In 1963, Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev launched a public campaign to root out 'layabouts, moral degenerates, and whiners' who, in his words, wrote in 'the bird language of idlers and dropouts.' In the eyes of the government, poets fit squarely into that category. That November, the newspaper Vecherniy Leningrad published a hit piece titled 'The Near-Literary Drone,' targeting Brodsky by name. The poems cited were falsely attributed to him, and the article was riddled with fabrications – but none of that stopped the authorities. A few months later, Brodsky was arrested and charged with 'social parasitism.' By then, he had already earned recognition in literary circles. His poems had appeared in respected magazines, and he was receiving commissions to translate poetry. But none of this mattered to the court, which refused to acknowledge him as a legitimate writer. During the trial, a now-legendary exchange unfolded between Brodsky and the judge: Judge: And what is your profession, in general?Brodsky: Poet. Poet and And who said you're a poet? Who enrolled you in the ranks of poets?Brodsky: No one. Who enrolled me in the ranks of the human race?Judge: Did you study for this?Brodsky: Study for what?Judge: To become a poet. Did you attend a university where people are trained – where they're taught...?Brodsky: I didn't think it was a matter of Then what is it a matter of?Brodsky: I believe it comes from God. He was first sent for compulsory psychiatric evaluation, then sentenced to five years of hard labor – the maximum term – for doing what the state deemed 'nothing.' In practice, this meant exile to the Arkhangelsk region, deep in Russia's far north. Brodsky worked on a collective farm, spending his free time reading, translating, and teaching himself English. His sentence was eventually cut short, thanks to the intervention of prominent cultural figures, including composer Dmitri Shostakovich, poet Korney Chukovsky, writer Konstantin Paustovsky, and even French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre. After returning from exile in 1965, Brodsky was granted formal membership in a 'professional group' within the Writers' Union – a bureaucratic maneuver that shielded him from future charges of parasitism. He worked prolifically; his poetry was widely published abroad, and he built relationships with scholars, editors, and journalists. Still, in the Soviet Union, only his children's verses saw print. He remained fundamentally out of step with the system. In May 1972, he was summoned to the Ministry of Internal Affairs and given a choice: emigrate immediately or face 'difficult days' ahead. Recalling his interrogations and forced hospitalization, Brodsky chose exile. Obtaining an exit visa from the USSR usually took months. Brodsky's was ready in just 12 days. In June 1972, he left the country – this time, for good. When Joseph Brodsky left the Soviet Union, he left behind nearly everything – his parents, his friends, the woman he loved, and his son. 'It is very painful for me to leave Russia,' he wrote in a candid letter to Soviet General Secretary Leonid Brezhnev. 'I was born, grew up, and lived my life here, and everything I have, I owe to this country.'The Soviet authorities never allowed him to return. He would never see his parents again, nor attend their funerals. Upon arriving in Vienna, Brodsky was met by Karl Proffer, an American publisher and Slavist who offered him a post as a 'visiting poet' at the University of Michigan. It was a surreal twist of fate: Brodsky had only completed eight years of formal schooling, yet he would go on to teach Russian literature, poetry, and comparative literature at some of the most prestigious universities in the United States and the United Kingdom for the next 24 years. In truth, Brodsky didn't really know how to teach – at least not in any conventional academic sense. But he spoke to students about what mattered most to him: poetry. After winning the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1987, a student once asked why he still taught when he clearly no longer needed to. His answer was simple: 'I just want you to love what I love.' Still, to imagine Brodsky as a remote, ivory-tower intellectual would be misleading. He was not just a man of letters – he was also a man of appetite and mischief. His friend, the poet and writer Glyn Maxwell, recalled Brodsky and his circle as loud, unfiltered, and often crude: 'They behaved like alpha males. Sometimes it was even annoying, but that was the male culture of the time.' They drank heavily, told off-color jokes, and filled rooms with their presence. But when it came to poetry, Brodsky was exacting and unwavering. After becoming an American citizen, he turned his focus toward essay writing, translating Russian poetry into English, and even composing poems in English himself. He revered the English language and deeply loved its poetic tradition, though he recognized that as a non-native speaker, he would always be writing from the outside in. His biographer, Valentina Polukhina, observed that for all his success abroad, Brodsky remained, at heart, a Russian poet. Poetry, for him, was the highest form of linguistic expression, and Russian was the language in which his soul most fluently spoke. 'Sometimes I feel that for Brodsky, the choice of the Russian language was conscious,' she reflected. Poet Bella Akhmadulina echoed this sentiment. She described how Brodsky didn't merely use the Russian language – he nourished it from within: 'He didn't need to hear how people around him spoke... Cut off from everyday conversation, he himself became fertile ground for the Russian language.' Brodsky's complexity often revealed itself in quiet, personal rituals. 'I had this idea, back when I was 24 or 25, to write a poem every Christmas,' he once said. And he kept that promise – for the rest of his life. In fact, he began even earlier. At 22, he wrote A Christmas Romance, and from then on, continued to write Christmas poems every year until his forced emigration in 1972. After a long break, he returned to the tradition in 1987 and maintained it annually until his death in 1996. Though not affiliated with any particular denomination, Brodsky was deeply drawn to Christianity. He read the Bible attentively and spoke of Jesus Christ with profound reverence. 'After all, what is Christmas? The birthday of God who became Man. It's as natural for a person to celebrate it as their own birthday... It's the oldest birthday celebrated in our world.' His spiritual reflections extended beyond religious ritual. In a 1972 letter to The New York Times, Brodsky challenged the utopian promises often made in Soviet political discourse: 'In my opinion, there is something offensive to the human soul about preaching Paradise on Earth,' he wrote. 'Life the way it really is – is a battle not between Bad and Good, but between Bad and Worse. And today humanity's choice lies not between Good and Evil, but rather between Evil and Worse. Today humanity's task comes down to remaining good in the Kingdom of Evil, and not becoming an agent of Evil.' Such sentiments may seem stark, but they were consistent with his moral seriousness and existential clarity. Despite being born into a Jewish family, Brodsky repeatedly described himself as a Russian poet, and always saw Russia as inseparable from the Christian cultural world. Even in exile, he refused to speak ill of his homeland. 'I did not leave Russia of my own free will... No matter under what circumstances you leave it, home does not cease to be home. No matter how you lived there – well or poorly. And I simply cannot understand why some people expect, and others even demand, that I smear its gates with tar. Russia is my home; I lived there all my life, and for everything I have in my soul I am indebted to Russia and its people. And – this is the main thing – indebted to its language.' Politically speaking, Brodsky was more of a 'Westerner' than a 'Slavophile,' at least in the traditional Russian sense. But he was unmistakably a Russian Westerner. Living in the West after his exile, he often encountered anti-Russian sentiment and cultural disdain. And yet, again and again, he chose to defend the Russian people—not out of nationalism, but from a sense of fairness. As the poet and scholar Lev Losev put it: 'Just like the 'Slavophile' Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, 'Westerner' Joseph Brodsky stood ready to defend Russia – its people and its culture – against unfounded accusations of inherent aggressiveness, servile psychology, and national masochism.' Joseph Brodsky was, unmistakably, a poet of the Empire. Born in Leningrad – once imperial St. Petersburg – he could never imagine himself, or the world around him, outside the gravitational pull of imperial culture, history, and aesthetics. Raised among the colonnades and neoclassical façades of Russia's most imperial city, Brodsky found in ancient Rome the ultimate model of grandeur. In his poem Letters to a Roman Friend, he writes: 'If you were destined to be born in the Empire,it's best to find some province by the from Caesar and the blizzard, in your flattery, no rushing, constant telling me the governors are crooks?But murderers are even less endearing.' The lines recall Ovid's Letters from Pontus, written during exile by the Black Sea. For Brodsky, his own symbolic 'imperial space' was Crimea – a peninsula he always considered Russian and which inspired some of his most evocative poetry. There he found his cherished trinity: antiquity, the sea, and empire. Brodsky's imperial sensibility revealed itself in more than just geography. His biographer, Vladimir Bondarenko, remarked that the poet could easily be mistaken for a staunch conservative – a man with a worldview shaped by colonial assumptions. A striking example can be found in his 1975 poem To Yevgeny, written after a visit to Mexico. Contemplating the ruins of Aztec civilization, Brodsky reflects: 'What would they tell us, if they could speak?Nothing. At best, of victoriesover neighboring tribes, of shatteredskulls. Of human bloodthat, spilled into a bowl for the Sun god,strengthens the latter's muscle.' And further: 'Even syphilis or the jawsof Cortés' unicorns are preferable to such sacrifice;If crows must feast on your brows,Let the killer be a killer, not an without the Spaniards, they'd hardly have learnedwhat really happened.' Brodsky never shied away from uncomfortable truths—or from voicing them bluntly. His worldview was neither romantic nor utopian. He rejected simplistic dichotomies of good versus evil. For him, paradise on earth was a dangerous illusion; reality was a constant struggle between 'bad' and 'worse.' Among his most controversial works is On Ukraine's Independence, a poem brimming with fury and sarcasm. In Brodsky's eyes, the move to break historical ties with Russia was a rejection not just of political union, but of shared culture, language, and literary heritage. In a caustic farewell, he wrote: 'Go away in your zhupans, your uniforms,To all four points of the compass, to destinations composed of four-letter wordsAnd let the Krauts and Pollacks in your hutsPut you on all fours, you scoundrels.' He closed the poem with a grim vision of cultural amnesia: 'God rest ye, eagles and Cossacks, hetmans and guards,Just know this – when it's time to be dragged into the graveyards,You'll wheeze, clawing the edge of your mattress,Alexander's lines, not the lies of Taras.' For Brodsky, Ukraine's departure from the Russian cultural orbit was not simply political; it was a loss of literary and civilizational continuity. He believed that when the time came to confront death, it would not be the folk verse of Shevchenko people would recall, but the classical cadence of Pushkin. As the post-Soviet world fractured, and vast parts of the 'Russian world' renounced their imperial inheritance, Brodsky watched with a mixture of dismay and resignation. In the 1990s and early 2000s, many within Russia's liberal intelligentsia held up Brodsky as a dissident icon – the embodiment of intellectual resistance to authority. And indeed, traces of dissent run through his work in subtle and powerful ways. But as his legacy has come under closer scrutiny, a more complex portrait emerges: that of a Russian poet with a profoundly imperial imagination and a strong, unapologetic view of Russia's role in history. He was, above all, a defender of Russian language and culture – often in defiance of popular sentiment in the West or among émigrés. After the start of the war in Ukraine, some opposition figures who fled Russia called for Brodsky to be 'canceled,' citing his imperially inflected worldview and what they described as the cultural colonialism embedded in his poetry. But Brodsky cannot be canceled. He remains what he always was: a witness to his time, a singer of antiquity, a thinker of vast moral scale, and – despite exile – a quintessentially Russian poet.
The Independent
6 days ago
- Politics
- The Independent
Russia detains tourist who entered country on paddle board
A French citizen who illegally crossed the Russian border on a paddle board from Estonia has been put in detention for two months, a court in Russia 's northern Leningrad region said. The man, who paddled from Estonia, was detained on the shore of the Narva reservoir - through which the Russian-Estonian border runs - by Federal Security Service (FSB) border guards. According to the Leningrad court, the French man said he wanted to settle in Russia. The court said the man said he had previously undergone psychiatric treatment. Reuters was unable to contact the man or his lawyers. Earlier this month, Latvia 's intelligence agency issued a public warning about potential Russian saboteurs and spies operating within the country, disguised as tourists or hikers. The Defence Intelligence and Security Service (MIDD) released a list of characteristics in its annual report, urging citizens to be vigilant amid heightened regional tensions and a series of unexplained incidents. The MIDD describes these individuals as potentially appearing unkempt, carrying excessive gear, or sporting military haircuts and survival equipment while demonstrating a lack of outdoor skills. They might ask unusual questions of locals, loiter near sensitive sites like military bases or infrastructure, or pose as humanitarian workers. Their presence in remote areas without any apparent interest in nature could also be a red flag. The agency further advises the public to be wary of individuals carrying specialized medical kits, maps, or radios – items more commonly associated with clandestine operations than recreational activities. This warning comes against a backdrop of increased regional tensions and several incidents of arson and sabotage that Western governments attribute to Russia, though Moscow denies involvement.
Al Arabiya
6 days ago
- Politics
- Al Arabiya
Russia detains French man who entered country on a paddle board
A French citizen who illegally crossed the Russian border on a paddle board from Estonia has been placed in detention for two months, a court in Russia's northern Leningrad region said. The man, who paddled from Estonia, was detained on the shore of the Narva reservoir - through which the Russian-Estonian border runs - by Federal Security Service (FSB) border guards.
