But Violetta was not particularly interested in politics. She would sit without protest through relentless ideological indoctrinations that shaped virtually every class, but more often than not her mind would drift to more pleasant topics. In this regard she asserted her independence in the same way a lot of Soviet girls did—by escaping from the required readings about class struggle and social conflicts in the West into romance literature. Her fondness for Pushkin was extreme—she kept a special notebook in which she wrote his poems in her own handwriting, and she knew his biography by heart. She read everything that was translated of Alexandre Dumas—her favorites were the adventure stories The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo, where the hero and heroine, after an exciting adventure, arrive at a happy ending. Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With the Wind topped the list of American titles she read and liked.
As she neared the end of her high school years, Violetta began to think seriously about her future. It was a logical choice for her to set her sights on entering the prestigious Maurice Thorez Institute of Foreign Languages. A degree from the institute would mean a better job than clerical or secretarial work, and it contained the exotic promise of nice clothes, good food, and even travel opportunities. But gaining admission was no easy task. There was a lot of competition to get in. Only the students with the top grades from the best schools were accepted. Unless your family had political clout, that was. Although the institute had a good academic reputation, the admissions process was known to be corrupt. If you did not make a passing grade on the entrance examination but your parents were well off or well connected, an exception was made.
Although her mother could be classified as part of the intelligentsia, Genrietta had no political connections, the schools Violetta had attended catered primarily to children of the working class, her teachers were average, and her language skills were mediocre. So she had very little chance of getting into the Institute of Foreign Languages by the normal route, but she was an ambitious girl, willing to do whatever it took to forge a career for herself.
There were two departments at the Institute of Foreign Languages: the Pedagogical Department, where teachers of foreign languages were trained, and the Interpreters Department. Women, who traditionally were involved in education, made up the bulk of the pedagogical student body, whereas the majority of those studying to become interpreters were males. There were also day classes and evening classes, the former for the full-time students, the latter for those looking to upgrade their skills. It was through a combination of personal charm and resolution that Violetta managed to land a laboratory-assistant position in the administrative offices of the Pedagogical Department, where she would also be permitted to attend evening classes.
That first year she made passing grades in all of her classes. But when she was given permission to become a day student at the Pedagogical Department and, not only that, allowed to audit interpreters’ classes in the evening, the arrangement had little to do with her performance in the classroom.
The term stukach is derived from the verb “to knock.” In Russian it refers to a person who knocks on the door of his boss and informs on fellow workers or students. It translates into English as “snitch.”
The way it usually worked, an assistant to the dean at the institute would call into the office a student whose grades were poor and would promise a passing grade on the next examination, or give an assurance that there would be no expulsion. There were a number of variants, but they all added up to the same offer: The student would be allowed to continue with his or her studies if he or she was willing to cooperate with the administration in addressing some of its security concerns.
“Our instructors are very concerned about the moral character of those whom we are training to interact with Westerners, or to serve overseas,” the school official would say. “Do they drink excessively? Do they have a weakness for women? Do they exchange rubles for hard currency? Are they critical of the Soviet system in private? Are they secret admirers of Western lifestyles? Do they have contacts with Westerners they do not report? These are things we need to know, because these are the things that will make them vulnerable to blackmail if they are given overseas assignments. So please understand, it is our intention to help our students, and by helping us identify problem areas, you will be helping them, too.”
In Violetta’s case, in trade for accelerated educational opportunities she agreed to play the role of the bright and attractive student who had been given permission to audit interpreters’ classes, and after ingratiating herself into the confidence of her fellow students who were preparing to work as interpreters in the West, she would report on their activities and conversations. Her responsibilities were not characterized as spying; it was more a matter of advising the instructors on their students’ politics, personal habits, tastes, and weaknesses.
For Violetta, this was a strictly pragmatic choice. It would have been impossible for a woman of her background to advance to higher levels in society on merit alone. That was the nature of Soviet society: If you wanted to better yourself and improve your lot, and your parents weren’t wealthy or influential party members, you had no choice but to seek favors. In this instance that meant cooperate with the system. It wasn’t a matter of morality, but expediency. And it wasn’t as if she were alone in playing the game. Many of the students she would be informing on had gotten where they were because of privileges.
Over the next three years Violetta established herself as disciplined and competent in all the assignments that were put before her. She was not a particularly popular student. Ever since her mother’s second marriage she had adopted a guarded stance toward people, and as a fellow student would describe her, “Violetta was a person without half-tones: She either loved or hated, and if she loved someone she would do anything for them, but if she hated she could be cruel. Others, similarly, either loved her or hated her.” But at the institute she would find several close friends with whom she would bond for life, and she would accomplish the goal she’d set for herself, graduating from the Pedagogical Department in 1982.
It was during the fourth and final year at the institute that the “servants of intelligence” began trolling the waters in search of recruitable prospects. After observing and appraising Violetta, they decided she would make an excellent candidate for future projects. She was maturing into a beautiful woman, she had a strong desire to promote her career, and she had a proven ability to perform “Judas functions.” They rewarded her with the invitation to take a two-year postgraduate course at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs that would prepare her for a position in a foreign embassy, and she accepted.
Once again, it was not a difficult choice for her to make, in part because of the personality of the people who approached her—contrary to popular impressions of KGB officers as scheming and base men, those she met were sophisticated, charming graduates of the institute—and in part because of Violetta’s outlook. She’d gotten a taste of the privileged life, and she knew that if she continued to cooperate, all kinds of paths could open to her that would provide her with a measure of liberty and gaiety absent from normal Soviet life.
Although the KGB did have “charm schools” where young women were taught seduction techniques, the purpose of the course that Violetta attended at the Foreign Ministry was to polish social skills. This meant raising her general level of cultural awareness so she would be able to conduct conversations on different topics and on different levels with well-educated foreigners. She was also taught the behavior, manners, and etiquette appropriate to a diplomatic setting. While the effective application of cosmetics was one of the lessons, the teachers stressed that too much makeup would create suspicions, and there were ways to be sexy at deeper levels. Western men in particular tended to be drawn toward “soulful” relationships with women who projected interesting inner qualities; women who asked intelligent questions, were willing to listen, and showed an interest in them as people. As for engaging in sexual activity, she was never explicitly told that would be a requirement, but it was implicit that there were circumstances under which that was the direction a relationship might go.