

By John Helmer, Moscow
@bears_with
“Least said, soonest mended.”
Uriah Heep, one of Charles Dickens’ evilest characters, said it to silence his mother who was about to expose him.
Dickens made sure his readers didn’t miss the point. “Though I had long known that his servility was false, and all his pretences knavish and hollow, I had had no adequate conception of the extent of his hypocrisy, until I now saw him with his mask off. The suddenness with which he dropped it, when he perceived that it was useless to him; the malice, insolence, and hatred, he revealed; the leer with which he exulted, even at this moment, in the evil he had done – all this time being desperate too, and at his wits’ end for the means of getting the better of us – though perfectly consistent with the experience I had of him, at first took even me by surprise, who had known him so long, and disliked him so heartily.”
David Copperfield was doing this thinking in print in 1850; the maxim Heep used on his mother was already a hoary one. But in the 170 years which have expired since then, the meaning has softened. The expression is now uttered by elderly English people to refer to difficult situations, not always false or malicious ones.
During the Soviet period, it was the Russian custom to adapt this maxim to reading Pravda and other official newspapers, so that the real meaning should be read between the lines, and not printed visibly or said aloud. Whether and what this custom mended used to become clear in time. Sometimes, a very long time.
This Russian custom of public writing and reading continues. It should be applied to the analysis of the recent performance of the Russian foreign intelligence agency, the SVR, just published in Vzglyad by Yevgeny Krutikov, a military intelligence officer of the GRU before he became a journalist.
The article follows in unofficial translation into English, without interpolation, explanation, or comment — according to the same old English maxim.
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