Word: russianizing
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Kobritz, who serves as Gorbachev’s personal assistant during his trips to the U.S., found herself an unwitting participant in a spontaneous tutorial in Russian cheek-kissing etiquette put on by Gorbachev for his slew of aides and translators. In the elevator’s close quarters, Gorbachev leaned in to kiss Kobritz on the cheek—once, twice and an all-important third time. Taken aback, yet wanting to roll with the kisses, Kobritz responded, “For you, Mr. Gorbachev, four, five—as many as you want...
...Lutheran pastor and an authority on German theology, was drafted into the German army in 1942. He was a studious and determined pupil of some of the greatest minds in theology when he left Harvard for Germany in 1925. He most likely died a lonely death on the Russian front in 1943, far from his five children and his wife in Stuttgart, and far from the university that had fostered his brilliance. As we approach a day meant to revere soldiers, the complicity in fascism of one of Harvard’s fallen remains a mystery...
...years later, in a letter written by friend and colleague Martin C.R. Grabau ’23, the University received word that Sannwald, having been drafted into the German army in 1942, had been killed on the Russian front. There is no definitive explanation of the circumstances of his death. Just what role he had in the Nazi army remains a mystery to this...
...virtues of shareholder rights, transparency and corporate governance. The idea is that oligarchs such as Khodorkovsky had cleaned up their act, and were ready to cut deals with the best in the West. Ranged against them, in the "black hats," are the reactionary forces who are against the West, Russian nationalists who favor the preservation and primacy of Russia's national interest over the rights of an individual businessman...
...hadn’t seemed particularly important at home, where, on various occasions I was mistaken for a Brazilian, an Irishwoman and a Russian. But I do not possess a true cultural identity. I am a mongrel—an improbable amalgam of Midwestern white trash and New York City Jew (which makes for an interesting holiday season, culinarily speaking). Back home, I took my status as a cultural chameleon in stride. In my eastern Massachusetts hometown, where your roots need to extend five generations before you’re counted as native, and where non-natives are branded...