Autobiographical

Unfortunately, as I am not blessed with the striking memory of my good friend Russell Edwards, confidence coach and top teacher of special needs kids (if you want to learn more about how he can help, just go to his website https://www.russellrkedwards.com), it takes an effort to recall those heady days of 1991 in Moscow.

However I do recall walking late one night in March 1991 with Ludmila in the deserted streets of the centre of Russia’s capital (there was a curfew in place) and approaching the Kremlin to observe tank and other army drills being conducted in preparation for some as-to unknown threats, perhaps connected to the dire state of the economy, attributable to mismanagement, the collapse in the oil price and the fall in revenue from vodka sales due to the anti-alcohol drive that had been launched by Mikhail Gorbachev, and to the desperate measures on the brink of being unleashed. 

For the past few years the USSR had survived solely due to the artificially elevated status of the Secretary General of the Soviet Union as a reformer, which had led to the release of over USD 150 billion in loans from foreign lenders by 1991, equivalent to over USD 360 billion in purchasing power in 2026. However, now payback was expected in the form of reforms, and the politburo as a whole balked at taking any meaningful decisions, opting instead on half-hearted measures that in the process only precipitated greater political and economic instability. The vast communist empire was on the brink of bankruptcy.

It goes without saying that such economic missteps spring to mind as they had a devastating impact on people’s incomes in general and mine and that of other foreign translators/editors in particular. The initial abortive measure, implemented on 22 January 1991, the Pavlov Reform named after its architect Valentin Pavlov, who was at the time Minister of Finance and subsequently Prime Minister, was intended to confiscate large denomination roubles in a bid to tackle rampant inflation, but merely caused chaos owing to the minimalist three-day deadline established for the exchange of the notes and naturally failed to achieve its goal. 

Then on 2 April the government increased retail prices substantially in a bid to tackle the ongoing economic crisis, but to no avail. And on 4 April, in another attempt to curb the black market, the government devalued the currency significantly, thereby rendering bank savings worthless overnight. 

And on that basis, the already miniscule monthly salary of 300 dollars of foreign translators/editors was for some reason halved, with immediate effect. No logical explanation was given. Admittedly, I cannot say that this had an immediate impact as I hadn’t been paid this amount once and would only receive a lumpsum payment in my UK bank account at the end of 1991. However, it was still a shock and belied the concept of egalitarianism and communism that the authorities had sought to foster. Although management at APN didn’t announce this move to foreign workers officially until June, leaks were synonymous with the lack of control in society in general right then, and so we knew about it the very next day.

It is a strange feeling when you find your worth undermined like that. A nameless authority had simply decided to cut our pay in order to achieve some undefined arbitrary goal, with total disregard for the plight of the individual (the USSR’s “socialism with a human face” was put to the test once more and proved wanting). Admittedly, the elderly Russian population was hit the hardest when their hard-earned savings built up over years to fund the purchase of a car or save for a comfortable future were decimated. 

At the time it felt like a kick in the gut and something I hoped never to experience again and above all, never to see applied again indiscriminately to the public at large. And yet today AI is wreaking similar havoc through countless industries and is causing untold misery. And like coding, journalism, entry-level positions at law and accounting firms, and many other professions, translation is one of the sectors at risk all over the world driven by the push for AI in an alleged drive to improve efficiency, backed by shortsighted governments and once-respected magazines such as The Economist, forgetting about the inevitable shortfall in tax revenues and increase in spending on unemployment and other benefits, and totally ignorant of the threats to the economy on the one hand and humanity in general on the other, with countless leading AI researchers and firms now acknowledging (in September 2026, including Anthropic CEO) that they are powerless to understand the risks posed by the technology they have created. As the saying goes, genius and madness are two sides of the same coin. 

It feels curious writing these words as I am looking back more than 35 years to the final months of the Soviet Union. However, the comparison seems apposite at least at this moment in time. Naturally, the impact of the abortive reforms on Soviet citizens in that period was tragic, although the population would unfortunately be exposed to a far worse situation economically soon. And so here the barter and order systems, moonlighting and other survival methods came to the rescue in general. 

From that moment in April, what with the treatment meted out to me in January and the increasing disrespect being shown,  I no longer felt compelled to put in a full-time shift and changed my working hours independently from 9:00 AM to 6:00 PM to an evening shift from 4:00 PM to 10:00 PM. I also indicated that I expected an exit visa as soon as possible to go home for a break, given that the agency was reneging on its promises. 

I also needed extra cash, as I was running short. Enjoying life had a cost. At the very least now I could seek temporary or potentially permanent employment elsewhere. So I would wander the icy streets of Moscow, face virtually hidden by scarf, winter coat and the ridiculous hat I wore to fend off the cold, dropping off my CV off at various offices and foreign chambers of industry and commerce, including the small fledgling office of Price Waterhouse (prior to their merger with Coopers to become PwC) on Paveletskaya Street, where I was invited in for a chat over coffee and biscuits. 

At the time they had about 10-15 people. They expressed an interest in potentially hiring me at some future date. As my Russian language was finally improving from constant practice, I was now part of the team translating articles of the leading business daily Kommersant (meaning businessman). I would also spend many a Sunday editing horrendous English translations of scientific publications, receiving in return cash dollars.

I was to get lucky that summer. However, I was first to meet another foreigner whom I would spend time with over the years, including a visit to see him in Toronto and Montreal in 1999. And I would meet through him another Canadian friend, Tim, who was to play a pivotal role in my life and who remains dear to me to this day. 

But back to Stephen Beaupre (Steve to his friends), who was a dapper good-looking chap, sporting long dark hair and possessing the deepest brown eyes and at least back then an ironic sense of humour. He joined APN right around the time our  salaries were cut, but had the good fortune to be accorded a two-room flat in the centre of Moscow, something I wouldn’t have minded, rather than the backwaters where I resided. And he was to accompany me on a trip organised by Jennifer to a republic that means even more to me today. But that is another story.

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