Vladimir Putin, Falling Czar

Defying protests, Putin is poised to return as Russia’s President. But his days are numbered.

 

The Russians who braved subzero temperatures to demonstrate against Vladimir Putin on Feb. 4 were not as liberal as the West would hope. They differed from the participants in last December’s rallies, which involved young and middle-aged professionals. Some of these marchers represented instead an anger that has been brewing for years on the Russian street but has found scant expression in the country’s neutered official politics or on its sanitized airwaves. Some might term these ideologies extremist, but given the dark, brutal conditions in which they have arisen over the past decade, they are only natural.

On Bolotnaya Square, by the iced-over Moscow River, anarchists in black carried banners proclaiming “A Strong Society Needs No Leader”; communists with fluttering crimson standards called for free education and health care; and rowdy young nationalists declared “God is with us!” and “Russia for the Russians!” (pointedly excluding the Central Asian Muslims who have in recent years moved to Moscow in great numbers, searching for work). A few protesters carried Soviet flags: Nostalgia for the Soviet Union’s social safety net and superpower status is strong, even among people too young to have experienced much more than their parents’ reminiscences. Others—people with local grievances, various other leftists, and even die-hard Russian imperialists—handed out leaflets and tried to proselytize the passersby. 

The rally’s organizers estimated attendance at 120,000—an astonishing figure, given the weather. This was not, however, the day’s only outdoor gathering in Moscow. Out on the heights of the Poklonnaya Gora park, tens of thousands of Putin supporters assembled under the banner “We Have Something to Lose.” According to press reports, many had been paid to attend or threatened with dismissal from their jobs if they did not; they were bused to Moscow in vehicles owned by state-owned companies and treated to potent grain-alcohol libations. They heard various speakers’ lamentations for the passing of Muammar Qaddafi and the tribulations of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad (both Russian allies), claims that oppositionists were on the U.S. payroll, and denunciations of the whole Bolotnaya crowd, characterized as rabble-rousers intent on another Russian revolution. The audience chanted, on cue, “Russia for Putin!” and “Glory to Russia!”

Russia is divided between those who are willing to stand up to Putin’s regime, and those who, out of fear or for personal gain or even just habit, favor its continuation. Dread of chaos and repression, Russians often say, is in their genes, and overcoming such a genetic patrimony takes guts, plus the certainty that what is to come will be better than the present. Trepidation and inveterate pessimism are motivating some people to stand by the devil they know.

In all likelihood, that will be enough to ensure that Putin prevails in the Mar. 4 presidential election. Last September the Kremlin declared that Putin, who currently holds the title of Prime Minister, planned to switch roles with President Dmitry Medvedev. Putin’s approval rating promptly dropped to 35 percent, but it has climbed back up to 50 percent or higher. Should Putin win the election and serve out two full, six-year terms, his tenure as Russia’s de facto leader, including his previous two terms and a stint as Prime Minister, will have run for 24 years—nearly as long as Stalin’s.

The surprising strength and resiliency of the opposition movement, however, raise doubts about whether he can hold on to power that long. The most important question for Russia and the world is less what the next Putin term will look like than what direction the country will take when he is gone.

Putin’s most valuable asset right now may be the long memory of the Russian people. Russia’s last major political stand-off—in October 1993, between former President Boris Yeltsin and the reactionary, Soviet-dominated legislature—ended in bloodshed. Communists launched an assault on the main television channel, Yeltsin sent tanks to bombard the Parliament, snipers fired on crowds from rooftops, and a state of emergency was imposed. Later that year the government adopted an authoritarian constitution that paved the way for Putin’s centralized rule. Few democracy activists are inclined toward violence today, and most suspect that Putin would be even harsher than his predecessor in dealing with an open rebellion. Russia’s business community has largely learned to work within the system (or else!) and counsels caution.