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Mikhail Khodorkovsky is one of the most astute observers of today’s Russia. Imprisoned for a decade in Russia’s prisons on politically motivated charges, he knows all too well the best and the worst of his country. He now lives in exile and, like many Russians who live abroad, he longs for the day when he can return to a free and democratic Russia.
This book is Khodorkovsky’s account of what is happening in Russia today and what could happen in the future. Putin will not last forever: sooner or later, there will be a post-Putin era. But Russia’s history has been deeply shaped by an autocratic trap: a revolution against an autocracy has produced another autocracy, followed by another revolution and another autocracy, and so on. If Russia is to find its place as a constructive partner in a global community of civilized nations, then it has to escape this vicious cycle.
How to Slay a Dragon is Khodorkovsky’s account of his own journey and of how the vicious cycle of Russian history can be broken. He charts a pathway towards a parliamentary federal republic which would enable Russia to become a free and democratic society, living in peace and without dragons.
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Seitenzahl: 360
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Preface
Introduction: My Path into Politics and What I Hope to Achieve
Part I: How Do We Get Rid of the Old Dragon?
1 The Strategy for Victory: Peaceful Protest or Peaceful Uprising?
2 Bringing the Protesters Together: Many Parties or a Single Party?
3 How to Cultivate Protest: Go Underground or Emigrate?
4 The Point of No Return: The Streets or the Commanding Heights?
5 How to Organize the New Order: Constitutional Democracy or Democracy by Decree?
6 How to Bring an End to the War: Fight to a Victorious Outcome, Capitulate, or Seek a Compromise?
7 How to Defeat an Internal Counterrevolution: Remove the Old Guard or Try to Correct Them?
8 How to Control the Man with a Gun: A Task for the Party or for the Secret Services?
9 How to Create a Civil Service: Employ Our Own Weak Staff or the Best from Abroad?
10 What Is Meant by ‘A Turn to the Left’? A Social Welfare State or a Socialist State?
11 How to Achieve Economic Justice: Nationalization or Honest Privatization?
Part II: How Do We Avoid Creating a New Dragon?
12 The Choice of Civilization: An Empire or a Nation-State?
13 The Geopolitical Choice: To Be a Superpower or to Consider the National Interests?
14 The Historical Choice: Muscovy or Gardarika (which has nothing to do with Gaidar)?
15 The Political Choice: Democracy or a Return to the Terror of the Oprichnina?
16 The Economic Choice: Monopoly or Competition?
17 The Social Choice: A Turn to the Left or a Turn to the Right?
18 The Intellectual Choice: Freedom of Speech or Glasnost on a Reservation?
19 The Constitutional Choice: A Parliamentary Republic or a Presidential Republic?
20 The Legal Choice: Dictatorship of the Law or Rule-of-Law State?
21 The Moral Choice: Justice or Mercy?
22 Victory for Ukraine: An End or a Beginning?
Conclusion: The Dragon in Custody
End User License Agreement
Cover
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Preface
Introduction: My Path into Politics and What I Hope to Achieve
Begin Reading
Conclusion: The Dragon in Custody
End User License Agreement
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MIKHAIL KHODORKOVSKY
Translated by Stephen Dalziel
polity
First published in Russian as КАК УБИТЬ ДРАКОНА? Пособие для начинающих революционеров in 2022
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This English edition © Polity, 2023
The right of Mikhail Khodorkovsky to be identified as Author of this Work has been asserted in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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ISBN-13: 978-1-5095-6106-3
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It was Mark Zakharov’s cult film, To Slay a Dragon, that gave me the title of this book. In that film, the archivist, in justifying his conformist views to his knight, said: ‘The only way to get rid of someone else’s dragon is to create a dragon of your own.’ And that’s exactly how we live: first of all, we tolerate for a long time being tormented and oppressed by somebody else’s dragon (in reality, it’s our own, but it’s an old one), then we finally rid ourselves of it – and create a new dragon of our own. But after a while this one, too, gets old and we stop regarding it as ‘ours’. I am absolutely convinced that this vicious circle of Russian history can be broken, and that Russia is fully capable of living with its own mind and its own conscience, and without dragons. But in order to do this, the young knights of the revolution must bear in mind that it’s not enough simply to slay the old dragon, even though this in itself is no easy task; it is vital also not to end up bringing to power a new dragon, and one that may prove to be even worse than its predecessor. This book is about how this can be achieved in Russia.
As a country we’re in a difficult situation. Society already understands that ‘we cannot go on like this’; but at the same time, we’re frightened that things will only get worse.
Everyone in power, besides the president, realizes that there isn’t a good way out; but everyone still hopes that ‘maybe it will all blow over’.
The opposition has an overwhelming desire to sweep away the regime; but has no concept of ‘what then?’.
Because of this, I believe that the time has come to explain clearly to the people what we’re proposing and what answers we’re offering to life’s key philosophical questions. People have the right to know what to expect if they stand alongside us, and particularly what the principles are for which it’s worth giving up a quiet life and risking their freedom and the safety of those dear to them.
But there is one thing we can say for sure: the time for burying your head in the sand and for turning a blind eye to the most serious social issues – that time has gone.
‘We don’t care about politics, we’re only concerned about people turning our yard into a dumping ground’; ‘we don’t care about politics, we’re just against abuse of power’; ‘we don’t care about politics, we’re just concerned about artistic freedom, corruption, free access to the internet’ – yes, the time for such quaint doublespeak has gone. If you ‘don’t care about politics’, then just stand on the sidelines and wait. Maybe the dragon will be in a good mood and will give you something out of the kindness of its heart; but given the way things are today it’s more likely that it’ll kick you down and take your last crumb.
But if, on the other hand, you really want to stand up for your rights and the rights of others, then that means getting involved in genuine politics. It means making choices, and it means confrontation, with all the risks that this brings.
I occupy a unique place among the ranks of the opposition (true, this doesn’t exactly make me jump for joy). I have huge managerial experience, having worked in the government and at the head of a number of the country’s largest companies, companies that were of strategic significance to the country, and that were linked to dozens of towns and villages that were devoted solely to these industries. But, despite all this, I am deprived of the opportunity to carry out practical organizational work on the ground.
When they kicked me out of the country, the authorities slammed the door shut behind me and turned the key, making it absolutely clear that, in the event of my returning, I would face the rest of my life in prison.
At the same time, I am one of the very few who has personal experience (we could say, ‘fortunately, very few’, for this experience comes with a high price) who has actually told Vladimir Putin to his face exactly what I think about corruption at the highest levels of government. And just a month after doing this, I faced criminal charges and ended up being locked up for more than ten years (six in a prison cell and four in labour camps). Added to which I staged four hunger strikes, including two when I refused to take even liquids; and I carried out all of them until my demands were met, and, in the case of three of them, as a sign of solidarity.
Ten years. That’s almost as much as my friend Platon Lebedev. It’s immeasurably less than my colleague Alexei Pichugin, who’s still in jail. It’s easier than the fate that befell another of my colleagues, the lawyer Vasily Alexanyan, who only a year after his release died from a disease for which he was refused treatment while in prison.
I have something to put before these authorities; some things that will be remembered and some things that must never be forgotten.
But this is exactly why I don’t want to talk about the past; rather, I suggest that we think about the future.
I don’t believe I have the right to choose between justice and mercy; to forgive or to refuse to forgive those whom I consider should be punished.
I certainly don’t consider myself to be ‘the bearer of the ultimate truth’.
Each one of us has his or her own experience, our own scores to settle and our own thoughts on the future. But by virtue of the way in which my mind works, I have decided not to talk in terms of how ‘it wouldn’t be bad if we were to change those who are in power’, but rather to discuss a practical plan of action as to what to do ‘after Putin’.
From the way in which I think of time (and I look on time differently after the period I spent in prison), I believe that this regime does not have much of it left: no more than five or ten years. How it will end, I don’t know. Probably together with Putin. After all that has happened in Ukraine, I find it very difficult to imagine that he will step down of his own choice and live out however much time God grants him on some paradise island somewhere. He simply won’t be allowed to do that.
One way or another, this regime will meet its end. When it does, there will be so much that will have to be put right. And it has to be done quickly. It would be wonderful if, when this moment arrives, society has already decided who we are and where we’re heading, in which direction the road is leading in this rapidly changing world …
Politics was never important for me in and of itself. Before I found myself locked up, I was involved in politics only inasmuch as I needed it for business; in other words, simply to achieve those economic goals that were my priority at the time. Then came prison. Prison is hardly the optimum place to discuss politics; but it’s a good place to receive a political education. And this was what I earnestly strove to achieve when I wasn’t occupied with the other tasks that are put upon you when you’re in jail.
At the very end of 2013, Putin took the decision to release me. Even though, as they say, ‘hope springs eternal’, I considered the likelihood of such an outcome to my ten years of incarceration as highly improbable. To this day I genuinely have no idea what guided Putin’s thinking. No doubt there were a number of different reasons. There was the forthcoming Winter Olympics in Sochi, which he knew had to pass off in exemplary fashion. Then there was the personal request from the German Chancellor Angela Merkel, which he calculated might lead to some sort of reciprocal concession. And, of course, there was the human emotion of compassion for my dying mother, for whom this would be the last chance to see me.
I was aware of all of these reasons and weighed them up while rapid preparations were being made for my expulsion from Russia. I understood, too, that without Putin’s goodwill and wish for this to happen, I would never be set free; and also, that his decision upset a lot of people in his circle. Therefore, even though I honestly warned the FSB [Federal Security Service] officer who came to collect me that I did not intend to hide myself away from people and keep silent, I had absolutely no intention of becoming involved in politics simply to seek personal revenge. As far as I was concerned, my account was settled in my personal relationship with Putin: he had sent me down, thus depriving me and my family of ten years of my life; yet he had also saved my life. Looking back on matters now, it’s perfectly clear that, had he not acted as he did then, I would have been confined behind bars to the end of my days.
So when I said after my release that I didn’t intend to get involved in politics, I was completely sincere. I never had any desire to be involved in politics just to prove something to Putin, and that’s still the case. Paradoxically, our personal relationship worked out in such a way that I even owe him something. He could have killed me, but he didn’t. He could have left me to rot in jail, but he didn’t. I haven’t forgotten this. I planned to engage in targeted human rights and educational activities. It seemed to me that there was sufficient scope to employ my talents and my experience in these fields; and my money could also be very useful. But the more I became involved, the more intensely politics infiltrated into everything I touched. What had happened? What was it that convinced me to turn away from my initial firm resolve not to return to the world of politics?
In order to answer that question, I have to explain what I understand by ‘political activity’, and what my motivation is to engage in it. In the exact and only possible sense of the word, politics is a struggle for power. Not necessarily power for oneself; it can be a struggle in support of someone else. If the meaning and the aim of political activity is not for power, then it’s not politics. It’s fake. Or else the person making such a statement is simply not being honest with themselves and those around them.
People fight for power for two reasons. For some, having power is an end in itself. For others, power is a tool for achieving other aims. Putting it simply, you can divide politicians into pragmatists, who need nothing more than power itself, and ideologues, for whom achieving power is simply the start of a process. These divisions are, of course, relative and not absolute, but it is useful to bear them in mind.
I was never interested in the concept of power as an end in itself; or as an attribute of the alpha-male; or as the possibility to dominate and enjoy an inflated position in the social hierarchy. I’ve been at the very top of society – and at the very bottom, too. I have long understood that formal power, there for all to see, is sometimes worth very little. And that real power, which is often hidden from public view, bears no relation to a public position in politics. For reasons that will be obvious, I was never interested in using politics as a way to get rich, either. I was, and remain, sufficiently wealthy not to have to think about where my daily bread was coming from, and in any case no one can ever earn all the money in the world.
But this wasn’t the main point. I’ve always been very wary – and remain so – of people for whom politics is an end in itself. The problem is that such people have no convictions – nor can they have. Convictions would have made them vulnerable, and made it difficult for them to achieve their goals. In general, other things being equal, it’s easier for an unprincipled person to come to power, as they are unencumbered by any considerations. Such a person can be ‘in favour of Soviet power’ at one moment and, at the next, against; and in either situation they usually win. When there are too many politicians like this, society tumbles into a long period of crises.
Politicians who have convictions are a different matter, although here, too, nothing is simple. If fanatics come to power holding ideas loaded with hatred for certain groups of people, then they become a threat not only to their own society but to mankind as a whole. Nevertheless, the world would remain stubbornly patriarchal if we didn’t have people in power who hold convictions that express the desire to change society. So the issue as to whether or not I should be involved in politics always brought me back to the question as to whether or not I held worthy convictions for which it made sense for me to go into politics – in other words, to fight for power. Not necessarily for my own personal benefit, but for the benefit of those forces that my convictions supported.
When I was released from prison, I didn’t see any particular reason as to why I should become involved in politics in Russia. I held the same general democratic opinions that were supported by hundreds of thousands of other Russians with liberal-minded views. Naturally, I agreed with virtually nothing in the political course that Putin was pursuing, but I wasn’t unique in that. I could express my convictions simply by supporting those whose opinions were close to mine, and this is what I did, even when I was in jail. There was absolutely no need for me to get involved in politics to do this. I didn’t think that I could add anything substantially new or different from what others were already saying and doing. However, the situation changed shortly after my release.
Literally two months after I was forced to leave Russia against my will, the country became a very different place. Or, to be more precise, it went back to being what it had been before Mikhail Gorbachev introduced perestroika. It was as if the coup plotters of August 1991 had been resurrected and had finally decided to create an alternative version of history. The unsuccessful attempts to crush the revolution in Ukraine, which were followed by Russia’s seizure of Crimea, which in turn was accompanied by the igniting of a war in the Donbas: all these events turned everything in Russia on its head. In the space of just a few months, politically Russia was thrown back decades. The first – and most important – reset had taken place. Putin and his circle wiped away everything that my generation had achieved when we had supported Gorbachev’s and Yeltsin’s attempts to change Russia. This went way beyond my personal conflict with Putin. Now we were talking about a fundamental difference in our views on the fate of Russia – its past, its present and its future. It was this that motivated me to become involved in politics, in a way that I hadn’t intended to, neither when I was in prison nor at the time of my release. It came down to a very simple idea: I had to defend the beliefs and ideals of my generation of revolutionaries. To make it impossible for Russia ever again to give up its future by turning back to its past and falling into the same rut from which, through enormous efforts, we had managed to drag it out at the end of the 1980s.
But how can we do this? For the majority of those who share my views, the answer to this question sounded (and continues to sound) very straightforward: remove Putin and his clique from power. It sounds tempting, of course; but in reality it’s not that simple. We got rid of Stalin – but Stalinism has returned. We disposed of Brezhnev – but stagnation has returned. We even overthrew the autocracy – and one hundred years later we’re living under an autocratic system.
I have absolutely no doubts that we can get rid of Putin. In any case, sooner or later he’ll depart this life: there are no immortal dictators. But Putinism, Stalinism and autocracy will keep returning to Russia again and again just as long as the sociopolitical and institutional preconditions exist for them. Although it’s always easier and more convenient to personalize evil, it’s not really about the individuals, but about the objective preconditions that allow anyone who reaches the pinnacle of power in Russia to become a Putin, a Brezhnev or a Stalin. This works as predictably as the laws of physics. Whether it’s a revolutionary or an innovator or a liberator who comes to power, they all end up as a dictator, a satrap and someone who throttles freedom while desperately hanging on to power together with a pathetic cabal of corrupt henchmen. It is irrelevant who this individual is, because the reality of life in Russia breaks anyone. A specific example is that it wasn’t a case of Putin breaking Russia, but of traditional Russia crushing Putin under its own weight. It was this understanding that Russia always seems doomed to repeat its own history that led me to seek a proper solution to this threat.
Gradually I’ve come to the deep conviction that the existing form of power in Russia simply maintains the traditional system of autocracy, and that, without revolutionary change, it will be impossible to escape from this autocratic trap. I’ve come to the conclusion that, given Russia’s historical traditions and experience of politics, only a parliamentary form of government would be acceptable. Of course, we’re talking here about a proper parliamentary republic, and not the rubber-stamp version that was typical of the Soviet ‘parliament’.
In Russia, any other form of government, whereby all the executive functions of power are in the hands of the formal head of state, would inevitably sooner or later lead to the re-emergence of an autocratic and totalitarian regime. This would be for the simple reason that the cultural, economic and sociopolitical restrictions that prevent a state from sliding into the bog of authoritarianism are simply too underdeveloped in Russia. Any individual, even the weakest, who found themselves at the top of the pyramid of power, would not be able to stop themselves from being seduced into crushing that pyramid beneath them. This makes it essential to slice the top off this pyramid.
I see my mission as follows: to convince those who share my ideals and wish to see Russia free – not just for a couple of months or even years, but for decades to come – that this can be achieved, but only if we build a genuine federal parliamentary republic in Russia, with a developed system of local self-governance at the municipal level. It is vital to rid ourselves of a dictator; it is vital to investigate the crimes committed by this regime; it is vital to re-establish even the most basic democratic norms in the country and to bring back justice and the rule of law. And what is even more vital is that this be carried out in such a way that everything that we put back cannot be instantly lost once more. That is possible only by moving to a parliamentary republic.
Building such a republic in Russia is far more complicated than overturning Putin’s regime. It calls for a genuine revolution, one that doesn’t simply scratch the surface of political life, but that overturns the very foundations of the traditional Russian way of life. A revolution such as this demands massive efforts and sacrifices; it means taking risks and changing literally everything, from the bottom to the very top. But only such an all-encompassing revolution can provide Russia with the long-term immunity that it needs to rid itself of autocracy and give it the opportunity to build a new way of life suitable for the modern, postindustrial, global world.
It’s important at this point to explain what I understand by ‘revolution’. I am absolutely convinced that revolution in Russia is inevitable, and that it’s desperately needed. This doesn’t alter my extreme dislike of revolutions in principle, or my deep regret that Russia has gone so far down a historic dead-end that the only possible way out is through a revolution. Any revolution represents a trial for a society, even when it brings with it a wonderful future. At the same time, a revolution does not necessarily mean street battles, storming buildings, seizing post-offices, bridges and the telegraph office. Such events are not indicative of a revolution, but of an uprising. Yes, such incidents often accompany a revolution, but they are not essential and, what’s more, are not the main component of a revolution.
What I understand by ‘revolution’ is a total reset of the fundamental principles of the life of a society, which completely alters the course of that society’s historical development. Whether such a reset of the fundamentals is accompanied by social explosions or whether it passes off without so much as a whimper are secondary questions. Most important of all is the result. In my opinion, Russia’s move to become a parliamentary republic is only the tip of the iceberg. By ‘parliamentary republic’, I mean the country being run by a government made up of representatives of a coalition of parties that controls a parliament constituted by free and fair elections, and which, in turn, represents a genuinely wide majority of society. At the foundation of such a republic lie fundamental changes to the most varied aspects of the life of society, the implementation of which is essential in order that the system of parliamentary democracy remain sustainable and stable. The most important of all these changes is the switch to a genuinely federal system and the self-governance of cities. Only the cities can provide the political basis for a stable parliamentary republic.
In the case of Russia, a parliamentary republic and federalism are inseparable from one another. In order to drag Russia out of the rut of autocracy and place it firmly on a stable democratic trajectory, there has to be a move to a parliamentary republic. And in order to ensure that this parliamentary republic does not become yet another façade for autocracy, it must be reinforced by a federal system.
This is already a profound revolution: a country that for centuries has been accustomed to see itself from the top down must learn to look at itself from the bottom up. The logic here is simple. There are practically no democratic political traditions in Russia; what there have been are basically antidemocratic. Civil society didn’t succeed in establishing itself properly, and today it’s been practically wiped out. Even if favourable – close to ideal – conditions were to arise (and I seriously doubt that this is possible), the re-establishment of civil society even to the levels previously achieved would take years. And this is bearing in mind that the previous level of civil society was very basic. At the federal level, just as at the local level, there is no party system. All the existing parties are either fake – created or dominated by the authorities themselves – or they’re marginal groups, united around their petty leaders and holding no serious weight among the majority of the population.
In such conditions, from where can a parliamentary system come with the stability needed to be an alternative to autocracy? Where can we find strength in a world of weakness? Only in the regions. It is only the regional elites, with their local interests, their local self-awareness and their regional links that have been built up over centuries, that have the ability in modern Russia to be the potential subjects – rather than the objects – of politics. If these elites were to support a parliamentary republic, it would come about. If they don’t, it will simply disappear like yet another mirage of Russian history. A parliamentary republic is possible only if there is a proper federal structure, when local finances – and local life in general – are governed by those who live in the locality.
Why is the issue of federalism so important for Russia? It’s because, with its cultural, religious and, of course, economic pluralism, Russia can be a unified state only under the cruellest of dictatorships, which crushes and levels out all local characteristics. Without such a dictatorship it’s impossible to bring under a single umbrella places as disparate as Moscow and Grozny, Kazan and Magadan, Kaliningrad and Khabarovsk, St Petersburg and Kemerovo. If we wish to have even a hint of democracy in Russia, we must allow for the existence of pluralism – and not simply economic, but political, too. Incidentally, the Russian Empire that is so revered by Putin’s followers was politically pluralistic. For centuries, the thoroughly European system of self-governance in Finland existed alongside the medieval khanates of Central Asia. Democracy in Russia means pluralism; and in modern times political pluralism can be achieved only through federalism.
Achieving this, however, is no easy task. Why is it that Russia has always been an overly-centralized state? Because if the centre showed any weakness and handed any significant autonomy over to the regions, petty little tsars would rise up in these regions, each of whom would prove to be greedier and more evil than the tsar in Moscow. So the people would then ask Moscow to help defend them from these regional satraps and the bandits whom they cultivated around them. And the power of the centre always relied on this. A weak tsar led to strong petty tsars, while a strong tsar meant the petty tsars were weak. How can this vicious circle be broken?
There is a way out. We need to introduce a third element, a force that is independent of these two extremes. This is something that everyone knows very well, because it’s the very force that, in recent years, the Putin regime has been trying above all else to crush. It is local (municipal) self-governance. A regional governor who’s taken power into his own hands while the centre was looking the other way can be stopped by an independent and autonomous mayor or head of a local administration. If local self-governance restricts the powers of the regional petty tsar, he or she will be obliged to become a regional constitutional monarch. And local self-governance will instinctively seek the support of Moscow, thus strengthening central government. This will help to even out the system, because it will bring in the checks and balances that are essential for creating a genuine democracy.
The space for an independent judiciary arises only when this triangle of local self-governance, regional governor and central government is developed. By definition, the relationship between the three cannot be ideal. There will either be constant war between them, or there will have to be an arbiter acceptable to all. It is absolutely impossible for there to be an independent legal system if the need for it is not recognized by those in a position of strength. Apart from the united local elites, there is no strong side in modern Russia: they’ve all been squeezed out. The centre, the regions and local self-governance will need rules together with an arbiter who can ensure that they are followed. In such a situation, perhaps the idea of a genuine independent judiciary might take root in Russia for the first time.
The arrival of a proper system of justice will mark the start of a gradual massive change in the relationship between the citizen and the state, and will create the conditions for the restoration (or, to be more accurate, building once more from scratch) of civil society in Russia. Progress in this will lead eventually to the final result: freedom, human rights, free and fair elections based on political competition, and stable institutions that support a state governed by the rule of law. But none of this, and much more besides, will come all at once. Such an outcome can be achieved only by following a chain of events step by step. And the most important link in this chain, I believe, is the path to a parliamentary republic.
It is specifically this path – and not ‘a battle with a bloody regime’ – that represents my goal, the pursuit of which has drawn me into politics. But the move towards it will not be swift and will require a great deal of patience.
Unfortunately, defining precisely the goal towards which we’re heading doesn’t guarantee that we’ll end up exactly where we want to be. We have to be aware of what lies ahead of us on this path. Clearly, we cannot expect anything good as we begin our move away from the point to where Putin and his friends have brought us. Many of the prerequisites that are essential for the establishment of democracy in Russia simply don’t exist. This is often ignored by many very honourable people, who are idealists in the best sense of the word, and who really want things to be better – but in the depths of their souls they realize that things will simply stay the same as they always have been. On the one hand, we have a terror machine served by an enormous number of functionaries who won’t give up their positions even after Putin goes. And, on the other, we have a frightened society that has been oppressed by this terror and has lost its stable social connections, and a quantitatively reduced and qualitatively degraded elite. Obviously, we’re not going to be able to jump across this ravine in one leap. We cannot avoid a period of transition during which the remnants of Putin’s old society will be quashed, while zones for the growth of a new society are created. This idea is there for all to see, yet as a rule it’s ignored in the general discussion about Russia’s future. But from the practical point of view, it is the structure of society in this period of transition that’s the most pressing issue today.
The point is that any kind of transition in Russia, no matter where it comes from or where it’s going to, is like being in an enchanted forest, in which it’s easier to lose oneself forever than it is to escape from it. What’s more, no one has yet managed to escape from it in exactly the way they’d planned. This is why the period of transition has to be considered very seriously. We can be sure of only one thing: the time available for the post-Putin transition will be very limited. It must not last for more than two years, because any longer will mean that whatever political force takes Putin’s place will not be able to maintain the people’s trust. If the transitional, or interim, government doesn’t manage to change anything in two years, then one of two things will inevitably happen. Either it will have to introduce a cruel dictatorship for an unspecified length of time, or it will be swept away by the people. This is because during the period of transition it will be essential for the government to introduce a whole host of unpopular measures in the most difficult of circumstances. And this is even before we take into account such complicating factors as the resistance of the old ruling clans and the likely fall in the standard of living that accompanies virtually every revolution. A compromise must be reached with society.
Thus, it is essential to construct a sturdy institutional framework for democracy in Russia. In my view this means creating a parliamentary republic, as well as a return to federalism and self-governance under the rule of law. Paradoxically, the question as to whether or not these long-term political goals are achievable depends on the ability of the interim government to obtain the trust of the majority in the short term. Without this, they won’t be able to carry through effective – albeit in some aspects unpopular – policies, aimed at quelling the resistance of the old clans and establishing the basis for a new statehood.
If the interim government succeeds in establishing a strict new course then it would be realistic to believe that the long-term goals could be achieved. If, however, it’s unable to do this, and it slips into populism by simply carrying out the immediate wishes of the people, then we can forget about such ambitions. People’s trust must be lasting, drawn out over a long period. It’s not difficult to gain the support of the majority over a short period of time. People grow weary of dictatorial regimes and in certain circumstances it takes just a spark to ignite passive dislike into active hatred. But such flare-ups quickly die down and the people can swiftly discard their new leaders. This is the weakness of Maidan-style uprisings: the explosion happens easily enough, but the strength of the explosion is insufficient to carry matters through to their conclusion. In order to obtain lasting support, different, systemic decisions are needed that do not simply take advantage of the anger that’s been building up over a long period like social dynamite.
Considering all this, today we can at last make an accurate diagnosis of the 1990s. Surprisingly, that period has now once again become a subject of heated discussion. At that time, attempts to carry out coherent reforms failed. In my opinion, this was specifically because the reformers ignored the essential task of enlisting society’s solid support. They naively believed that they could carry out changes while ignoring the views of the majority. At best, they assumed that they would remain neutral; in the worst case, they thought they could ride roughshod over any opposition. They chose a course of action that appealed ideologically to a small section of society that shared their radical Westernized views. The economic beneficiaries of the reforms were also a very mixed – and at the same time tiny – group. Not only did the majority of the population suffer significant economic hardship from these changes, but the values that the reformers were preaching remained foreign to them. The inevitable outcome of such a situation was that society was alienated from the government and from the path it was following. The consequences of this alienation were reflected in the mass support for Putin’s essentially counter-revolutionary, reactionary political course. If we don’t want to repeat this scenario in the future, we must not repeat the errors of the ’nineties.
An exceedingly difficult task will present itself from the outset to the interim government: in a situation where there is a deep economic crisis and a fragmented society that is teetering on the edge of civil confrontation, how can problems be solved that have built up over many decades? How can such a government win the support of society for its actions?
If we put to one side any ideas of a quick fix based on a general dislike of the old regime (and experience shows that such dislike doesn’t last long), then all that remains is to put into action a ‘left-wing plan’ that would at least satisfy the fundamental economic needs of the majority of the population. It’s essential that the majority believe that the government’s actions strategically match their own long-term economic interests. Only then will they be prepared to back the government in its difficult journey through the period of transition. In other words (and many people still fail to accept this), there’s a fairly simple constraint to any deep change in Russia: it will have to be carried out along with a ‘left-wing plan’. By ‘left-wing plan’, I mean that it must be geared towards broad-scale social and economic needs; as opposed to a ‘right-wing plan’ that satisfies the needs of a minority. Had the reformers in the 1990s not ignored the social needs of the majority of the people, it is quite possible that today we would not be trying to solve the problem of Putinism. If those who have set themselves the task of carrying out a political battle with the regime once again ignore the social and economic needs of the majority, they will never achieve their political goals.
