If you were a young iPhone-carrying client of RocketBank, a Russian start-up that offers app-based banking, you would have gotten some mixed messages on Thursday, Jan. 28. At 1:10 p.m., you would have received a letter written in RocketBank’s trademark pally style, only worrisome, and accompanied by a “shruggie” emoji:
“Hi [client’s first name], our longtime partner Commercial Bank Intercommerz is having cash-flow issues. Technically, that doesn’t necessarily mean that you would have problems with RocketBank cards serviced by Intercommerz, but times being anxious as they are, we would like to warn you as soon as we can and help you take precautions.” The letter went on to instruct clients to withdraw or transfer any funds they had on Intercommerz-serviced RocketBank-issued debit-card accounts.
You would have been well-advised to follow the instructions posthaste. Within an hour and a half, Intercommerz stopped servicing RocketBank cards. Money could not be withdrawn or transferred, and no purchases could be made.
At 3:50 p.m., RocketBank sent out a second letter to its customers:
“Hi [client’s first name], earlier today we did something hasty, without really checking all the facts, by sending out a letter recommending that clients withdraw funds from RocketBank cards issued by Intercommerz Bank. This was an unjustified action on the part of our marketing department, and we apologize, first of all, to our esteemed partner Intercommerz Bank, as well as to you, our dear clients. We ask you not to give in to panic that could harm the bank.”
But Intercommerz-issued RocketBank cards did not start working again after this letter.
The next day, RocketBank posted a long explanation on its website. It recounted the chronology of the contradictory letters and said that Intercommerz Bank had demanded that RocketBank retract the information in its first letter if it wanted Intercommerz to renew services to its clients. After the retraction — the second letter — went out, Intercommerz upped the price of renewing services, demanding that RocketBank arrange for the retraction to be published in the media. Then, said the RocketBank post, even after RocketBank complied with this condition to the best of its ability, Intercommerz did not unblock its cards.
By the time this explanation was published, the Russian Central Bank had appointed a temporary administration at Intercommerz, essentially beginning a bankruptcy process.
Banks have been going belly-up in Russia with alarming regularity and, generally speaking, little publicity. The RocketBank incident provides a rare glimpse not only into the routine business of bankruptcy but also into the peculiarity of communication in contemporary Russia. Most of the time, information is perceived and treated solely as an instrument of manipulation. Truth is what the stronger party says it is. Nothing shapes a message better than blackmail.
That Russia is a land of lies and propaganda is hardly news, and so the RocketBank incident is telling in another way. The Russian economic crisis, although undeniably severe — the ruble is worth against the U.S. dollar today less than half of what it was worth two years ago — has proceeded in a calm, almost plodding way. Contrary to what some hopeful critics of the Putin regime once predicted, Russians have not taken to the streets in response to plummeting living standards. Never mind protests: There has been nary a bank run.
That’s because even panic requires open lines of communication. Free media can help spread panic. But Russian television, which is where the vast majority of people get their information, alternates between uplifting stories about growing domestic production and Russia’s boundless resources, and fear-mongering reports about United States aggression toward Russia.
President Vladimir Putin has on several occasions told the nation that dropping oil prices and economic sanctions have only strengthened the Russian economy. Sure, Russians are watching the exchange rate fall while the prices of goods in grocery stores rise, but they do not see their subjective experience affirmed anywhere outside the narrow confines of their kitchens and social-network groups.
When your president, your bank and your boss keep lying to you, claiming that things are just fine even as you witness your real purchasing power evaporate, they may not be able to convince you that everything is fine, but they are able to sow doubt. And by routinely denying your lived experience, they also succeed in demonstrating their power over you, if not over the actual economy.
Most important, they effectively prevent the emergence of any social consensus that could, in turn, lead to panic or even protest. So the Russian economy will likely continue its downward slide in eerie silence, leaving every Russian alone with the misery of growing poorer every day.
Masha Gessen is the author, most recently, of The Brothers: The Road to an American Tragedy.