So in less than six months after Putin’s taking office, two of the most influential oligarchs in Russia were in exile, the constitutional power structure of the country had been shifted dramatically toward Moscow, and free media outlets were falling like dominoes. Six months! The main myth that was built up around these events was that Putin was just cleaning up the town like a good sheriff. The Russian people despised the oligarchs and viewed them as criminals who were above the law. And here was Putin, a strong man from the security services, showing everyone that this was no longer the case. Not bad! Even if he pushed the limits of legality to do it, what else could he do, went the refrain.
Never mind that Putin was taking the private assets of Gusinsky and Berezovsky and putting them in the hands of other, more loyal, oligarchs or putting them under direct state control. The Putin government wasn’t cracking down on corruption, it was sanctifying it. It was a unique method of cleaning up the town that involved deputizing one set of “entrepreneurs” while demonizing another.
Make no mistake, I have little sympathy for the first generation of oligarchs that looted Russia as the USSR collapsed. They and their political and mafioso partners exploited Yeltsin’s lack of control and combined to derail the best chance Russia had at a market economy and democracy. The epic levels of corruption made the already difficult job of reform impossible and pushed the minimum standard of living needed for economic stability out of reach just long enough for Putin, or someone like Putin, to be welcomed with open arms.
What I reject is the mythologizing by those looking to praise Putin relative to Yeltsin on grounds of progress on corruption, institutional economic reforms, and growth. When it comes to Putin fighting corruption, I don’t think that legalizing theft and then boasting of a drop in crime should be considered progress. The actual crime rate in Russia kept increasing until 2002, when the revenue from skyrocketing oil prices began to have a broader impact. Putin would rely on a similar pacification maneuver in Chechnya when he gave official status and huge payoffs to a prominent warlord, Akhmad Kadyrov.
There is a practical argument to be made for these appeasement schemes, but I find it cynical and immoral, as well as harmful to the national interest in the long run. Reducing street violence and conflict by adopting one clan of the mafia while wiping out the others came at a huge cost. With no free media, no justice system to worry about, and no competition, Putin’s preferred oligarchs were like vermin whose natural predators had been eradicated. The chosen winners had the full power of the state behind them and the Russian treasury opened wide.
Had Putin come in and threatened to do to all that he selectively did to a few—that is, had he applied the rule of law properly—it would have been a very different story. He could have ended the looting, told his friends and foes alike that the party at the expense of the Russian people was over. At first it looked like he might be making an example of Gusinsky and Berezovsky for just this purpose. After all, if he could kick out two of the most influential and wealthy oligarchs so quickly, the others would surely fall into line. Instead, Putin’s message to the rest turned out to be that of a mafia don. Either you swore loyalty to the capo to steal within his system or your freedom and your assets could disappear overnight. As became increasingly clear during Putin’s first year in office, what was good for Putin and his friends was far more important than what was good for Russia. That is still very much the case today.
The many business-related reforms that were passed were never applied as envisioned. The assertion that there were successful institutional reforms in the 2000s is inherently false, although this remains a fundamental legend of the systemic liberals to this day—many of whom, remarkably, are still in government. They tell us that important laws were passed that lowered taxes, made it easier to start up a business, and so on. However, in my view, “institutional reforms” are not simply paper documents: the Duma rubber-stamped whatever decisions came down from on high. In a dictatorship, the formal content of the law is not important. What is important is how the law is applied. Reforms are only institutional if they have a real effect on how people live.
And just in case it wasn’t completely clear where Putin was steering the country, we come to one of those symbolic moments that can say as much as the legislation and persecution. In the fall of 2000, supposedly in response to complaints from Russian athletes that the new Russian anthem from 1990 was embarrassing them because it had no words for them to sing, Putin restored the old Soviet anthem. Not with the old original Stalinist lyrics, of course, or the updated ones from 1977 I remembered all too well. That is, instead of writing new lyrics for the Russian anthem, the old Soviet song was brought back and new lyrics were commissioned for it, and from the same author. And while I surely prefer the new “Our loyalty to the Motherland gives us strength” over “Barbarian invaders we’ll swiftly strike down” from 1944 or “The victory of Communism’s deathless ideal,” in 1977, the symbolism of bringing back the Soviet music was both obvious and shocking. The words change, but the song remains the same.
THE SEARCH FOR PUTIN’S SOUL
Anyone who says they are still uncertain about Putin’s true nature at this point must be joking, a fool, or tricking us. There is no reason to waste time on jokers or fools, however useful they may be in Putin’s marked deck of cards, but tricksters must be watched carefully. For at least a decade now, those who defend Putin either have something to gain from it or they are dangerously ignorant. People can be excused for letting optimism and diplomacy blind them for a while to Putin’s character and ambitions. One of the strengths, and weaknesses, of liberal democratic societies is giving the benefit of the doubt even to one’s enemies. If Putin really was an anti-democratic thug, he was going to have to prove it.
And prove it he did, year after year, as his Western defenders migrated from the “ignorant” camp to the “something to gain” camp one by one. From energy companies trying to get a piece of Russia’s oil reserves to European prime ministers and chancellors willing to sell out their countries’ strategic interests in order to do business on the side, Putin had no trouble expanding his international fan club despite his dictatorial turn in Russia.
As soon as Putin appeared on the international stage, every foreign leader and pundit was obliged to have an opinion about him. Reviewing this literature in news reports and memoirs today is a master class in the art of saying something nice without saying anything at all-while also engaging in that most critical of the political sports: covering one’s posterior. Needless to say, the memoirs written with the benefit of hindsight are far more critical of Putin than the contemporary comments. Only a rare few have the honesty to admit they were mistaken about Putin, or worse, that he fooled them.
The cumulative impression is that everyone knew Putin had troubling autocratic tendencies but didn’t believe it was worth making an effort to challenge those tendencies early on when it would have been much easier to do so. After all, Russia’s relationship with the West was already on the rocks and the Russians were looking for a strongman anyway, went their logic. So why not hope for a fresh start with the new guy?