I've spent weeks trying to figure out what to make of events in Russia. And beyond lamenting that luck landed me in Budapest for what is shaping up to be an incredibly eventful year, I'm still too surprised to say anything beyond that, after all these years, "civil society" seems to have a pulse.
Russian chauvinists love to say that Russia can never be understand by the mind, but only by the soul. Which is a pompous way of saying it is plain impossible for anyone -- let alone a foreigner -- to figure out what is really happening in a place so big, confusing, and complicated. And forget about figuring out what happens next. This is why I've read everything from Russia -- and it is a lot -- with great skepticism. And why all I have to offer are a few questions.
I'm so used to seeing Hungary through the the lens of Russia, that I realized with surprise that I've begun to look at Russia through the lens of Hungary as well. Over here, the Orbanistas openly profess their fondness for the autocratic, crony capitalist power constructions of Russia and China (as Prime Minister Viktor Orban once said, "the wind blows from the east"). To them, it is a brilliant method to not only secure power for a generation (if not longer, they hope), but to stick a thumb in the eye of neoliberal scolds from Western Europe and United States. And as a bonus, it's a good way to clam up your indigenous right wing extremists as well. Wins all around.
The big difference, of course, is that China has a booming economy, and Russia is choked with natural resources the world needs to buy. Theirs is a system of carefully carving up a giant pie. And as the world is increasingly realizing, the Hungarian pie is pitifully small. What Orban and his crew are doing looks much like a desperate effort to grab what they can before the bill comes due. And what happens then is anyone's guess.
Coming to understand all this has given me a backhanded respect for just how sophisticated and clever the system Vladimir Putin has rigged really is. Watching the protests after the absurd Duma elections last month, it seemed to me that the Russian power structure today is a giant, jury-rigged mechanism for venting off steam. Everyone knows that the heavy hand of the state is in all sorts of places, that the security organs are as vital and robust as ever, and that there are red lines everywhere. But few can pinpoint where they are. And not only that, it is almost as if there are avenues just to encourage dissent and opposition. Complaining on the Internet has become a national pastime. And I have to remind people that radio station Ekho Moskvy, the best critical news outlet in the country, is owned by a subsidiary of Gazprom, the state gas monopoly which is practically a branch of government.
So while I think the Kremlin inner circle may have underestimated the scale and ferocity of the protests, they are serenely confident that whatever blows come next can be absorbed. There are another four months of winter, after all.
Yet, this is not to say things are hopeless. It appears the movement managed to survive the torpor of the New Year's holidays, with more events planned in the coming months. But still, there seems to be no reason to assume the miracles that have sprouted all over the world in 2011 are inevitable in Rusisa. To throw a bucket of cold water, the biggest problem is that another clever part of the Putinist agenda is dicking around with the Constitution so much that real change becomes quite difficult. The protesters, I fear, remain an urban minority, so the kind of sweeping change may not yet be in the offing. I think it is safe to say that even a perfectly fair election would give Putin at least another six years in office -- which is certainly better than the 12 years I'd automatically assumed last fall. And there the new Duma will be in place for another five years. That's a lot of time for folks to cool their heels. Also, the entire Russian economy is pegged to the price of oil, which despite the global crisis is not falling to depths that government officials have said would trigger serious internal problems. So for the next few years the country is unlikely to face the kind of massive socioeconomic pressure that usually sets things off.
Maybe there is an unlikely cause for hope. Could it be this system of venting really is a great achievement? Think about it: for centuries, life in Russia has been a thing of iron-fisted absolutism, serfdom, secret policemen, Siberian prisons, and summary executions. That reliable order has been punctuated occasionally by blood-thirsty fanatics who burst on the scene and try to reorder everything according to their holy vision (this is why, alas, I'll never be comfortable with Navalny). Could it be that by complete accident, and possibly against its architects' will, Russia has developed its own native mechanism for gradual, careful social change? That this fusion of economic security and communication technology (either of which can easily be screwed up, of course) has the potential to turn Russia into a boring, prosperous place? It will be fascinating to see if Russia has the patience for it.
Russian chauvinists love to say that Russia can never be understand by the mind, but only by the soul. Which is a pompous way of saying it is plain impossible for anyone -- let alone a foreigner -- to figure out what is really happening in a place so big, confusing, and complicated. And forget about figuring out what happens next. This is why I've read everything from Russia -- and it is a lot -- with great skepticism. And why all I have to offer are a few questions.
I'm so used to seeing Hungary through the the lens of Russia, that I realized with surprise that I've begun to look at Russia through the lens of Hungary as well. Over here, the Orbanistas openly profess their fondness for the autocratic, crony capitalist power constructions of Russia and China (as Prime Minister Viktor Orban once said, "the wind blows from the east"). To them, it is a brilliant method to not only secure power for a generation (if not longer, they hope), but to stick a thumb in the eye of neoliberal scolds from Western Europe and United States. And as a bonus, it's a good way to clam up your indigenous right wing extremists as well. Wins all around.
The big difference, of course, is that China has a booming economy, and Russia is choked with natural resources the world needs to buy. Theirs is a system of carefully carving up a giant pie. And as the world is increasingly realizing, the Hungarian pie is pitifully small. What Orban and his crew are doing looks much like a desperate effort to grab what they can before the bill comes due. And what happens then is anyone's guess.
Coming to understand all this has given me a backhanded respect for just how sophisticated and clever the system Vladimir Putin has rigged really is. Watching the protests after the absurd Duma elections last month, it seemed to me that the Russian power structure today is a giant, jury-rigged mechanism for venting off steam. Everyone knows that the heavy hand of the state is in all sorts of places, that the security organs are as vital and robust as ever, and that there are red lines everywhere. But few can pinpoint where they are. And not only that, it is almost as if there are avenues just to encourage dissent and opposition. Complaining on the Internet has become a national pastime. And I have to remind people that radio station Ekho Moskvy, the best critical news outlet in the country, is owned by a subsidiary of Gazprom, the state gas monopoly which is practically a branch of government.
So while I think the Kremlin inner circle may have underestimated the scale and ferocity of the protests, they are serenely confident that whatever blows come next can be absorbed. There are another four months of winter, after all.
Yet, this is not to say things are hopeless. It appears the movement managed to survive the torpor of the New Year's holidays, with more events planned in the coming months. But still, there seems to be no reason to assume the miracles that have sprouted all over the world in 2011 are inevitable in Rusisa. To throw a bucket of cold water, the biggest problem is that another clever part of the Putinist agenda is dicking around with the Constitution so much that real change becomes quite difficult. The protesters, I fear, remain an urban minority, so the kind of sweeping change may not yet be in the offing. I think it is safe to say that even a perfectly fair election would give Putin at least another six years in office -- which is certainly better than the 12 years I'd automatically assumed last fall. And there the new Duma will be in place for another five years. That's a lot of time for folks to cool their heels. Also, the entire Russian economy is pegged to the price of oil, which despite the global crisis is not falling to depths that government officials have said would trigger serious internal problems. So for the next few years the country is unlikely to face the kind of massive socioeconomic pressure that usually sets things off.
Maybe there is an unlikely cause for hope. Could it be this system of venting really is a great achievement? Think about it: for centuries, life in Russia has been a thing of iron-fisted absolutism, serfdom, secret policemen, Siberian prisons, and summary executions. That reliable order has been punctuated occasionally by blood-thirsty fanatics who burst on the scene and try to reorder everything according to their holy vision (this is why, alas, I'll never be comfortable with Navalny). Could it be that by complete accident, and possibly against its architects' will, Russia has developed its own native mechanism for gradual, careful social change? That this fusion of economic security and communication technology (either of which can easily be screwed up, of course) has the potential to turn Russia into a boring, prosperous place? It will be fascinating to see if Russia has the patience for it.
