Spies come in from the cold

The democracy-hungry crowds who cheered in 1991 as the statue of Soviet communism's most reviled secret policeman was toppled could not have imagined it in their most lurid dreams.

But they are gradually being forced to accept an unsettling new reality in Vladimir Putin's Russia: KGB chic is back and it's "prikulno" (cool) to be a secret agent.

Evening diners in central Moscow's Shield and Sword restaurant can be observed sipping Joseph Stalin's favourite red wine in the shadow of a replica of the very statue that was toppled.

Felix Dzerzhinsky, or "Iron Felix", the bloodthirsty Pole who founded the forerunner to the KGB and unleashed the Red Terror against Vladimir Lenin's opponents, stares vigilantly into the middle distance as customers munch on wild game.

From blockbuster films where Russia's answer to James Bond saves the world, to TV series glorifying the deeds of Soviet and Russian spooks, the world's most feared intelligence service is back in vogue.

It is not a spontaneous phenomenon but one that is being carefully nurtured by Putin, a former KGB spymaster.

As its democratic credentials come under scrutiny from the rest of the world, Russia is in the grip of spy mania, and it is the FSB (the Federal Security Service), the successor to the KGB, that is basking in its afterglow.

Fourteen years ago such a phenomenon would have been unthinkable. Vladimir Kryuchkov, the then head of the KGB, was one of those who tried and failed to execute a military coup against Mikhail Gorbachev. His undemocratic actions discredited the organisation and saw it quickly disbanded, renamed and reorganised.

His actions also precipitated the demise of the entity he had sought to save: the Soviet Union. But with one of its own in the Kremlin and much of the Government made up of former spies, times have changed.

Russia believes it is facing multiple threats and the Kremlin needs heroes.

Chechen separatist rebels appear irritatingly indomitable, radical Islam is making inroads into the volatile south of the country and a shadowy third force allegedly intent on weakening and even dismembering Russia continues to hover in the smog above Moscow. That is not to mention the Chinese, who many Russians believe are intent on swallowing up parts of Siberia.

Someone has to stop the rot; someone like Major Pronin.

The fictional creation of Soviet writer Lev Ovalov, Major Pronin first appeared in print in 1939 as a masterful counter-intelligence operative with a similarity to both Ian Fleming's James Bond and Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes. With his faithful sidekick Viktor Jeleznov, he protects the Soviet Union from numerous sinister plots, which often see him face off against an evil British spy.

The last Major Pronin novel was penned in 1962 but in the past year five Pronin tales have been republished and sold well.

For a while there was even a themed Major Pronin restaurant in Moscow, at which diners could also enjoy a spot of target shooting.

Now there is the Shield and Sword (the emblem of the KGB). Conveniently located near the FSB's central Moscow headquarters, the restaurant revels in the intelligence service's bloody past and claims to count current spies among its clientele.

Portraits of KGB chiefs line its walls and waitresses wear KGB uniforms.

"It's about the history of our country," said Armen Pasikovich, the restaurant's manager. "This is a place for people who love their country. A country cannot exist without government structures."

Relatives of spymaster Yuri Andropov and KGB chief (and murderer and rapist) Lavrenty Beria are said to frequent the restaurant.

Perhaps it is no coincidence that the restaurant's name is the same as that of a film which Putin has said inspired him to join the KGB. The 1968 film Shield and Sword follows the exploits of Soviet spy Alexander Belov, who infiltrates the German SS during World War II and obtains vital intelligence.

In First Person, a book of conversations with Putin, the Russian leader mentions the tale, saying: "My notion of the KGB came from romantic spy stories."

Today the country's cinemas are doing their bit too. FSB Major Smolin, star of the recent blockbuster Dog Tag, typifies the breed of spy the Kremlin wants the young generation to lionise. He is stoic, courageous and a man of few words.

In the film he escapes from separatist rebels in war-torn Chechnya, and goes on to free hundreds of civilian hostages from a Moscow circus that has been seized by Chechen terrorists and stop the detonation of a nuclear bomb above a Nato summit in Rome. Not bad for one man armed only with a pistol.

It is no secret that the film, which has been a huge box office hit, was made with the help of the FSB and the Government. Planes, attack helicopters, armoured personnel carriers and real-life special forces troops were deployed to lend it authenticity as Major Smolin shoots the bad guys with heroic poise.

Up and down the country adolescents are cramming into internet cafes to do the same, wiling away hours playing shoot-'em-up games in which the targets are always Russia's enemies.

Valentin Velichko, head of the Veterans of Foreign Intelligence and a former KGB spy, is one of many who feel Russia can be saved only by its spooks.

"We see our task as introducing law and order in the country with a view to establishing a dictatorship of law where everyone is equal before the law," he said.

"We are [society's] ballast. When the waters get choppy we bring stability. But nobody needs to see our work."

With the sixtieth anniversary of the Soviet Union's victory over Nazi Germany looming on May 9, the armed forces and the country's elite special forces units are also getting the stardust treatment.

A few weeks ago a new "military-patriotic" TV channel, Zvezda (Star), aired in Moscow for the first time. It will soon be rolled out across the rest of the country with the backing of the Defence Ministry and will devote at least 10 per cent of its output to military matters.

It comes at a time when Russian parliamentarians are preparing to resurrect mandatory Soviet-era military training for schoolchildren.

The channel's executives make no secret of the fact that its purpose is to reawaken dormant Russian pride in the armed forces.

"Zvezda is about the belief that our country is the most beautiful in the world, that our history is the most heroic and that the future is in our hands," said Ivan Kononov, one of Zvezda's creators, at its launch.

Andrei Piontkovsky, a well-known political scientist, says KGB chic and glorification of the armed forces is going down well among many ordinary Russians.

"In Russia's political consciousness the idea of strong power and order is quite popular ... and this propaganda is quite effective."

"It's not just about Chekhists [spies] but about the general militarisation of society. If you think you are encircled by enemies then it's quite a natural process."

According to Piontkovsky, who decries the entire process, there is no danger of a return to communism.

"Nobody is going to restore communism because the Chekhists have become millionaires. The idea of private property has won.

"But in Nazi Germany totalitarianism existed alongside private property and it had a different name. It was called fascism."

Putin dismisses such talk as paranoid nonsense. In his view, democracy is not under threat but is merely being adapted to Russia's unique needs - needs which the West seems to be having increasing difficulty understanding.

- Independent