Perestroika and the subsequent end of the was, for most of us young, educated people with plenty of energy and optimism, tremendously positive news. Not only did we get rid of the oppressive communist regime. Rather, the advent of private property, freedom of expression and freedom of travel has promised us a great deal of personal liberty, ability to realize our dreams of becoming prosperous, independent, free-spirited human beings we always wanted to be.

In 1991, emancipated from the patronage of the state, constrains of planned economy and oversight of the security services, we thought of ourselves as a new generation of Russians capable of making our country an integral part of the modern world.

In 2014, some 25 years later, many of my friends and former classmates rejoice over “’s civilization,” pure of liberal modernity and rich of autocratic Byzantine connotations. Suddenly, to be a part of the modern world became synonymous with degradation, decadence and inevitable decline. War with brotherly is — if not fashionable — popular, even among some of the Moscow elite. The Soviet narrative of the beauty of isolationism is as pervasive as ever. What exactly did go wrong?

First Democratic Decade

Indeed, not all was peaceful these past two decades. Though collapse of the Soviet state was greeted with enthusiasm, the new Russian government’s abdicating its all and every social responsibility was less welcomed. Millions, though able to enjoy an unprecedented level of personal freedom, were thrown beyond the poverty line. The “wild capitalism” of the 1990s was the time of unprecedented — since the Ěý—Ěýhardship for most Russians, but especially forĚýthe intelligentsia, dreaming of a better future, but unable to sustain itself in the harsh reality of the present.

The first “democratic” decade in Russia has also proved to be particularly difficult. Criminal gangs reigned unabated. Mafia thrived in almost every Russian city, investing into gambling, crime and politics. State control became increasingly weak while bureaucracy indulged in corruption. The development of the middle-class was slow and painful, with the 1998 crisis hitting particularly hard at those who managed, even in the most adverse conditions, to do well — the new Russian bourgeoisie.

The determination to see Russia as part of the civilized world was so great that even the 1998 crisis was hailed as a sign of “our economy taking its rightful place at the world economic table.”

Internationally, things were also looking bleak. Though many hoped for speedy and smooth acceptance of Russia into the European family of nations, this wasĚýnot the case. Instead of granting young Russians an opportunity of visa-free travel across the world, Western nations, under various pretexts, remained unwelcoming. As more people had money to travel abroad, queues at foreign embassies grew ever longer, as did humiliating cross-examination at the consulates.

An opportunity to welcome ordinary Russians — not oligarchs — into the Western world was missed. By 2000, all eastern European nationals, as well as citizens of former Soviet republics, were able to travel freely across the European Union (). However, “logistic and economic reasons” prevented the EU, under the influence of its new Baltic members, from welcoming the citizens of its “strategicĚýĚý partner” — ordinary Russians. The whole range of economic and social reforms needed for the visa-free agreement were too complex to be implemented in a decade or two, or so EU officials claimed.

Victorious West

Expansion of has also proved to be difficult to reconcile with the spirit of common purpose and shared cultural identity — so widely talked about in the early 1990s. While for most Russians a united Europe meant the Europe free of military confrontations and border patrols, WesternĚýofficials — it seemed — saw things differently.

Living in Estonia in the early 2000s, I could not fail to notice the transformation of the NATO narrative from one of security and prosperity for all of Europe, to the glorification of the “victorious West,” which managed to “subdue the Russian threat.” Equaling the Russian Federation with the Soviet Union in all but its ability to project power beyond its borders, Western politicians wasted no time remembering Andrey Sakharov and Alexander Solzhenitsyn, who advocated freedom for all, instead of security for a select few.

Still, public opinion back at home was favorable to cooperation, not confrontation with Europe and the US. Sending Russian marines to Pristina airport in 1999, at the height of the Bosnian War, was greeted with dismay rather than patriotic hysteria. Though some hailed the Pristina incident as “our country’s return to the world stage,” the majority of Russian intellectuals branded it as Boris Yeltsin’s outright attempt to resort to Khruschev-style adventurism.

The determination to see Russia as part of the civilized world was so great that even the 1998 crisis was hailed as a sign of “our economy taking its rightful place at the world economic table.” ’s initial support of the US “,” some years later, was also greeted with resounding approval. For a while, it looked like the path for a real East-West partnership was clear.

Happy TimesĚý

It seemed that by the early 2000s, the question of the future of Russia was settled. The majority was firmly for the cooperation with the West, for the adoption of modern democratic norms and practices, and the development of the law-abiding, thriving civil society. Various nongovernmental organizations (NGO), including many international ones, were opening their Moscow and regional offices across Russia. Russian military was cooperating with NATO, providing it with crucial material and logisticalĚýsupport in what it always considered to be its core sphere of influence: former Central Asian Republics of and . The Russian Space Agency was playing a pivotal role in constructing and operating of the International Space Station.

In 2004, the EU has reached Russian borders, with the former Soviet Republics of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania becoming its members. By then, the EU and Russia were working together on a broad range of challenges of bilateral and international concern, including climate change, drug and human trafficking, organized crime, counterterrorism, non-proliferation, the Middle East peace process, the future of and the Iranian nuclear program.

Unsurprisingly, in 2010, the Russia Happiness Index reached 75 points, an all-time-high since the collapse of the Soviet Union. For many, the road ahead was clear: Years of struggle and hard work paid up. If not a full member of the North Atlantic community, Russia wasĚýits equal partner. If not quite Europe, aĚýfast-growing economy was unharmed by the economic crisis. We have, it seemed, survived Yeltsin’s decentralization, Putin’s consolidation and, many thought, have found the equilibrium between conservatism and liberalism that will make Russia evolveĚýpeacefullyĚýand steadily into a modern, pluralistic society.

The Year of Illusion

It all ended in September 2011. Democratic transition of power failed to materialize. First, the parliamentary elections, and then the presidential elections, were rigged. Demands of the Russian middle-class for a fair share of the political process were rejected. Putin’s reaction toĚýcalls of reforms in 2011 was similar to that in 2003, when a group of oligarchs demanded — though not quite so publicly — a political role of their own. Then, as in 2011, Putin turned public opinion against those “determined to undermine Russia’s sovereignty.”

The trick, it seems, is as old as politics itself. Compared to the idea advocated by the “early” Mikhail Gorbachev — “socialism with the human face” — Putin’s is the one of a gilded mask of nationalistic indifference and arrogance.

Calls by the opposition for an international boycott of Putin’s regime were unanswered. Despite gross violations of electoral law, systematic abuse of those trying to exercise their legitimate right to protest, and incarceration of protest leaders, the West remained determined to affirm — rather than support the efforts to change — the status quo.

During a conference in Berlin in November 2012, I asked one high-ranking German official whether the EU and the US have had any luck in trying to influence Putin and his government. “Influence? If we need to we can have them change their minds in a day. Do not forget that not only everything, but everyone in politics is linked. And linking means knowing — enough to make them listen to us and listen very carefully,” he said. “But we need political will and consent. And not just of a single president or prime minister. Knowing Brussels it is impossible.”

Luck of internal coherence among the protesters, violent crackdowns, impotence or indifference of the world democratic community meant that by the end of what can be called “the year of illusion” — 2012 — Putin was as much in control of Russia as before. A period of what one of my friends called an “implosion” among those involved in protests has begun. For some, this meant immigration, for others — resorting to various forms of extremism, for many — withdrawal from any political activity whatsoever.

For most, the fear that the best 20Ěýyears of our lives were wasted on building a state-controlled economy based on giant, state-controlled, export-oriented industrial conglomerates with private business pushed to the background, overseen by an autocratic government with a strong security apparatus, with an army of bureaucrats in charge of every aspect of social, economic and cultural life, became reality. In short, on something we used to ridicule and despise, a version of opportunistic socialism.

The Gilded Mask of Nationalism

The severity of the situation was particularly palpable when talking to some of my former colleagues in the banking community. Nearly all of them considered emigrating as the only viable alternative for themselves and their families. “I don’t want them to have my past as their future,” said a person in charge of one of the biggest Russian brokerage houses, a former young communist league (Komsomol) executive now in his late 40s.

However, only two years later,Ěýmore than 80% of Russians Putin. How did he achieve this? The trick, it seems, is as old as politics itself. Compared to the idea advocated by the “early” Mikhail Gorbachev — “socialism with the human face” — Putin’s is the one of a gilded mask of nationalistic indifference and arrogance. Many of my Russian friends willingly put it on when talking about the war with Georgia, Ukraine, annexation of Crimea, Russian-speaking minorities in Kazakhstan and the Baltics.

The mask allows to speak, but not to listen; to argue, but not to see. The pose of grandeur, which masks their sorrow, the bitterness I sense every time we talk about all these years of struggle and hope, and thirst for a new Russia thatĚýis no more. It also makes them, if not to embrace the lies, to stopĚýlooking for the truth. The mask, which allows to keep living in Russia and not to flee, takes away the dreams about the future we managed to lose yet again.

As is often said, the war in Ukraine is civil war. Russians and Ukrainians belong to the same ethnic, cultural and religious realm and any conflict between them is national catastrophe, as is a war between any two European nations. But first and foremost, the war with Ukraine is a war againstĚýthe future, free of lies, manipulations or fear.

In early August 1939, a BritishĚýdelegation sailed to Moscow in a slow merchant ship. An attempt was made to prevent a world war by concluding a mutual assistance treaty between Western powers and the Soviet government. By the time the delegation reached Russian shores, the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact was agreed — it only took four hours for the Germans to reach Moscow byĚýplane.ĚýIn December 2011, when mass protests began in Moscow and across the country, Russia was perhaps only a phone call away from launching a new political reality of a modern, dynamic and prosperous democracy in the heart of Eurasia. In August 2014, it may take yet another European war to help Russia find its way back.

The views expressedĚýin this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflectĚý51łÔąĎ’sĚýeditorial policy.

Ěý/

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This past week has presented us with a new reality — a strong and assertive Russia confronting a weak and divided West in what some observers have already labeled “Cold War II.”

Cold it is, but for how long? There is a clear and ever-increasing risk of military confrontation between Russian and Ukrainian military.

Unquestionably, the recent so-called “revolution” in Kiev has an element of the armed revolt, coup d’Ă©tat, putsch – you name it. The revolt, according to the Russian government, received a great deal of support and encouragement from the West.

This, however, was not as substantial as support provided by Russia for the ousted Ukrainian government. On December 17, days after the first pro-European manifestations began, Russian President Vladimir Putin promised to buy $15 billion worth of Ukrainian government bonds and sharply cut the price of natural gas for its economically struggling neighbor.

Antagonistic Interests?

Russia’s attempts to support the troubled presidency of Viktor Yanukovich is understandable. Then, as now, it tried to safeguard its legitimate “national interests.” “Soft” interests, such as the right for Russian-speaking citizens to use their language in official correspondence, and “hard” interests, like using the Russian navy base in Crimea, or preventing any other major power from exerting economic or military dominance in the region.

However, to assume that Western and Russian interests are always and necessarily antagonistic would be a mistake. 

For Russia, as well as for the West, trying to prevent Ukraine’s territorial integrity is a priority. If divided, both western Ukraine as well as its more economically developed eastern part will require political, military and, most importantly, economic assistance. In the current post-crisis environment, neither Russia nor the European Union (EU) is prepared for such an outcome.

Partitioning Ukraine will also not improve, but instead fatally compromise Russia’s security as it will split the state into two, one of which will inevitably be admitted into NATO. Kiev is less than a thousand kilometers from Moscow and the last time a foreign military came so close to Russia’s capital was in September 1941, when the Soviet Union was crumbling under the pressure of the German military.

Pipelines and Nationalism

And that is even before bringing up the issue of Russian oil and gas pipelines. Six of these run through Ukrainian soil, delivering more than 30% of Russia’s energy exports to western Europe. Divided and polarized, Ukraine will still be of strategic importance for Putin and anyone who comes after him, as it occupies one of the most important transport corridors from Russia to central, western and southern Europe. 

There is no doubt that the Ukrainian Revolution had a lot to do with a number of the so-called “legitimate grievances” of the people. Epic corruption has paralyzed Ukraine, as did the rule of one of the most  in modern European history. Even Putin sees no reason to hide his disdain for the person who “deserted his people and betrayed those who entrusted him with the responsibility to govern.”

Yet the revolution has brought to light one of Europe’s most disturbing trends; namely the growing and strengthening neo-Nazi sentiments across the continent.

Though not invited into the new government coalition, the Ukrainian far-right takes credit for being the most determined and disciplined force of the Maidan. Its paramilitary muscle played a leading role in the Kiev street battles, storming and occupying administrative buildings in western Ukraine, setting up armed patrols, and detaining and questioning supposed Yanukovich loyalists and alleged Putin “spies.”

While in France and Austria the far-right speak out against immigration and multiculturalism, it is in the countries of the former Soviet Union that Russophobia has become their trademark.

Surviving members of the  who fought alongside the German Waffen SS during World War II, as well as the neighboring  factions, have been trotting the streets of these Baltic states for nearly two decades, demanding total alienation from all things Russian. Political parties were formed around the idea of repelling the Russian threat and uncovering Russian conspiracies at every possible turn of events.

Ukrainian nationalists, however, take a step further by presenting themselves as supreme guardians not only of Ukraine’s independence, but of the European “race” in general. They want nothing less than to impose their grand, ultra-nationalist narrative over the whole of Ukrainian politics.

Right Sector — a conglomerate of far-right groups across Ukraine that is a European version of the Taliban — aspires to be in charge of the spirit of the nation, its zeitgeist, capable of founding a new, pan-European “White Caliphate.” In a recently published book, Nation and Revolution, its leader  states: “Great Ukraine sees itself not as a tyrant of the world, but as its international arbiter, its helmsman, the leader of the white race.”

Such a possibility, however remote, alarms Russia, which builds its own narrative of spiritual supremacy based on Russian orthodoxy, Putin’s autocracy and the form of controlled nationalism. It should alarm the EU, as further radicalization of anti-immigrant sentiments across the continent spells trouble for many European governments.

It also makes a civil war between the pro-Western nationalists and the Russian-speaking east almost inevitable, as the latter would never agree to live in a state that glorifies racist brutality and ethnic purges, while the former would choose to fight rather than accept Russia’s patronage over Ukraine. A protracted period of civil unrest in this strategically important part of the world means a humanitarian catastrophe for Europe and a real and palpable threat to its stability.

Anschluss

Clearly, the Ukrainian crisis cannot be allowed to spread any further. Paradoxically, the shortest way to achieve this would be to allow Putin to have his way, namely to guarantee that the country will not be seeking NATO membership any time soon. This can be done against Russia’s guarantee of non-interference in Ukraine’s internal affairs.

Further, it would be wiser to recognize the fact that, while Ukraine’s EU membership is distant, it’s membership in the Russian-led Customs Union is immediately beneficial: Russia remains — and will remain in the foreseeable future — Ukraine’s biggest economic partner. Finally, the new Ukrainian government should guarantee Russia’s oil and gas transit to Europe, making Ukraine an important partner for both Russia and the EU.

The Crimean crisis also shows that Russia neither can nor should be pushed further out of Europe. This policy has reached its limits, beyond which lies military confrontation. Squeezing Russia out of Europe by absorbing its former Soviet republics into EU and NATO increases the risk of destabilization of Russia, making it more susceptible to nationalistic sentiments and policies.

Pretending Russia is finally confined to the limits of our understanding caused the West to lose the initiative, as well as its ability, to predict and influence Russian policy in the “near-abroad.” Europe needs to fundamentally reassess its relationships with Russia, and make Moscow its strategic partner, not its enemy.

Should the West regain consciousness, what can be done to preserve the Ukrainian state? The answers to this question can be found in analyzing the history of federal and confederate states, such as Germany and Switzerland. A Ukrainian Federation can and will be the only way of balancing not only the interests of its neighbors, but also cultural and economic diversity of its own. It would also provide for the two opposing cultural narratives to be contextualized in what must appear as a story of a nation, in which diversity becomes an asset rather than a liability.

This can become a much-needed example of a multilingual and multinational, post-Soviet society accepted as a rightful member of an increasingly diverse European family. An example that may inspire people far beyond the continent.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect 51łÔąĎ’s editorial policy.

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Russia's new law on nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) was recently  by the US, which called it to be rescinded. While opening the first German-Russian NGO conference in Berlin, German Foreign Minister Guido Westerwelle declared that “the subjects and challenges that civil society is engaged with today often transcend national boundaries.” The international debate around the future of Russian social activism starts to resemble the early days of the R2P doctrine, with the international community applying all its power in trying to prevent its collapse.

Under the law on nongovernmental organizations, initially adopted in 1995 and substantially , Russian NGOs are offered a choice between what is called a “constructive dialogue” — funding and support in exchange for unconditional surrender to the government’s paternalism, and the cold and increasingly hostile waters of financial and ideological independence.

The new law also puts an additional and often unbearable “moral burden” on every NGO, receiving financial assistance from abroad. Once established as a foreign grant recipient, it will be officially known as a “foreign agent” — just a breath away from the Stalinist “enemy of the people.”

Depicting political opposition as the lackeys of the West has become a daily routine since the early days of Vladimir Putin’s directorship of the Russian security service, the FSB. The large-scale attempts to limit the independence of NGOs – both those with foreign connections and not — is a novelty and manifests a fundamental problem of Putin’s third term as the country’s president: his declining popularity and, as a result of mass protest following the 2011 Duma Elections, the end of the his invincibility as political leader and “the symbol of the nation.”

Rigged polls, corrupt media and puppet political parties continue to dominate Russian political landscape. The attack against what might be considered the first offshoot of modern Russian civil society, is an attempt to assert total control over the country by the regime, which has lost the moral right to govern Russia.

Building Blocks of Democracy

While Yeltsin, followed by Putin, was busy engineering “election triumphs” and tuning up a “managed democracy,” Russian NGOs had been succeeding in building up broad social support by partaking in viable social work or asserting public control over important government projects.

By making the rules known and aims clear and transparent, NGOs rapidly became the building blocks of Russia’s grassroots democracy, a system of adequate and fair representation of different social, ethnic and religious groups, economic interests and cultural associations.

The Khimki Forest protests, started in 2010, is just one example of a relatively minor issue – the fate of some thousand hectares of prime forest land near Moscow, parts of which were destined for clearance and road construction – becoming a turning point for many who, until then, believed in “reformability” of the autocratic system. Articulate and well-sustained efforts by a small group of activists led to a wide-scale public campaign against not only those involved in the road construction, but also their government backers and protectors.

Paralysis of state institutions, widespread corruption and degradation of social services, gave the group an opportunity to mobilize broad support from across the country. “We are fighting a legacy of corruption and bribery among government officials, law enforcement and industry that has allowed this project to move forward,” reads the group’s statement. In 2012, after a series of loud protests, President Dmitry Medvedev temporarily halted the construction of the road, which the movement members called their “huge victory.”

A recent wave of political protests in Russia shows that modern democracy is different from the one prescribed in the textbooks. What is different is the social attitude towards power, as well as the way it is perceived by the new generation.

Instead of it being a “thing-in-itself,” a reality of its own — a closely guarded secret — the 21st Century understanding of power focuses on its representation, image, and the way it is relayed to the public. Ability to create, visualize and sustain a narrative becomes key to the success of any social initiative.

Memorial

Positioned at the center of diverse groups, networks and loose affiliations, NGOs have a particularly high level of accessing social capacity and mobilization potential. One of the best examples of such an NGO is the Memorial Society, which emerged in late eighties and early nineties.

Memorial was established by the leaders of post-Soviet intelligentsia following the collapse of the Communist monopoly on historical truth. The aim of the group was to reserve and disseminate the information about Stalinist repressions and Bolshevik brutalities. However, its greatest contribution to the civil society development was, and still is, its attempt to build and sustain an alternative version of the Russian’s 20th century narrative, focused on people and their destinies, rather then an ideological construct of Soviet pseudo-history. Also, its recent work in investigating has earned it both international accolades and harassment from the and Chechen governments.

While the Memorial Society’s formal structure remains adequately rigid and complacent, the “cloud” of its affiliates is as fluid and diverse as are the scenarios for a new Russian democracy. The role of the NGO here is to safeguard the freedom of discussion and respect for historical truth. It would be fair to say that Memorial’s existence is essential in preserving the legacy of millions of victims of totalitarian regime across Russia and Eastern Europe, as well as exposing the abuses of power executed by the current regime.

Closed World of Russian Politics

Over the years, Russian NGOs succeeded in creating a stable non-hierarchical fabric of relationships of interdependent, but autonomous groups. The latest outburst of social and political activism has revealed yet another important function NGOs play in society, namely that of providing a viable alternative for those unable to enter the closed world of Russian politics, as well as converting social discontent and frustration into a hard currency of experience.

“The politicians of tomorrow come from the NGOs of today,” declared Ella Pamfilova, former chairman (2004 – 2010) of the . For the new generation of Russian activists, NGOs represent an opportunity to build a solid support base and accumulate experience in solving complex social problems. Their careers are further fostered in a much more open and flexible environment free of government rhetoric and party disciplines.

Opposition parties, however harassed, and independent media, however suppressed, as well as numerous prosecuted ecological and social services, deliver credible and viable results where the actual state fails. Russian NGOs and “public organizations” fully capitalize on their meaning. With political parties and associations cultivating a fun-club atmosphere with no real agenda and ephemeral aims, nongovernmental organizations look increasingly “proto-governmental,” putting up a credible alternative to the corrupt and often discredited bureaucracy. 

The post-modernist world of non-government activism contains yet another set of fundamental challenges to the Kremlin adepts of “sovereign democracy.” Immediacy of response: just a decade ago, a political rally, however small, was a climax of months of coordination and careful designs. In December 2011, it took just a few hours to mobilize a sizeable crowd of political activists and followers and supply them with all sorts of paraphernalia, printed in a nearby printing house or at home. Spontaneity: political activity becomes the public domain, civil activism goes retail, emancipated from wholesale politicking; moreover, the political agenda, as a uniform set of goals and a toolkit of principles, becomes redundant, being replaced by a story with as many versions as there are participants. Global reach: The Russian community abroad, some twenty years of age, is already capable in shaping up and delivering targeted and precise messages to virtually any state, media, and activist organization and institution around the world. Global relevance: Russian NGOs are closely linked with their international partners and supporters; NGOs “plug” Russia into the global, transnational civil society.

“Civil society is not a national project, especially in these globalized times,” said Westerwelle in his conference opening remarks. Thus, by the stroke of a pen of the minster’s speechwriter, the closely-guarded realm of Russia’s internal affairs became an open playground for all those concerned. The struggle for democracy in Moscow and Ekaterinburg, Novosibirsk and Cheliabinsk is now a part of the global struggle for a just and fair social order. 

Externalization of “Russian problems,” the conference participants asserted, is one of the most effective ways of improving the situation on the ground. A creation of a unified NGO coordination center, therefore, might be yet another way to facilitate rapid information exchange and coordination between the NGOs in Russia and their international partners and media. This initiative can also lead to applying coordinated pressure, not only on the Russian government, but also on international community when it comes to safeguarding universal human rights and freedoms.

Protecting citizens “against the power of officials, employers, experts, party bosses, factory foremen, priests, parents, and patrons” can only be done by a combination of civil and government activism. Conference sponsors were clear: preventing civil society from assuming its rightful place as an equal partner in a political process leads to tensions no country can afford. Putin’s distrust of democracy, disdain for civil rights and freedoms becomes problematic, not only for Russia, but also to its partners in Europe and beyond. The time for action has come.

The views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect 51łÔąĎ’s editorial policy.

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A clue came as the helicopter broadcasting live Putin’s triumphant ride through the Moscow city centre to his Kremlin inauguration passed over the Russian capital’s busiest streets. Europe’s most populous city was eerily empty, swept clean – as if struck by some deadly virus in a horror movie. Not even Putin’s supporters were allowed to cheer their beloved leader on the way to his triumph. This city of the dead stood still, witnessing yet another wonder of the “managed democracy” engineered by Putin’s ideologist Vladislav Surkov.

Only one man before Putin had had the honor of such a reception. Exactly 200 years ago, Napoleon had entered an abandoned Moscow. "My lord Brother,” wrote Napoleon to Tsar Alexander I soon thereafter, “Beautiful, magical Moscow exists no more. How could you consent to the destruction of the loveliest city in the world, a city that has taken hundreds of years to build?”

A cheering crowd might present a security threat. But what it really represents is legitimacy.

Often blamed for failing to protect Russia’s ‘true’ national interests, Boris Yeltsin did not fail to remind his critics of his thousands of enthusiastic supporters, who propelled him to Russian presidency in August 1991. Authoritarian style and idiosyncratic government, alcoholism, the encouragement of regional autonomy which threatened a united Russia, almost a decade of wild free-market economy reforms – despite all this, for the majority of Russians Yeltsin remained the country’s first democratically-elected leader.

Not having Yeltsin’s ‘heroic past’, Putin depends on popular support. After all, he is by many still regarded as Yeltsin’s puppet, with no political history of his own.

As the presidential election results were disputed by all but his own party, the father of the Russian version of neo-conservatism has had to search for inspiration elsewhere. And if, when troubled by ill health and waning popularity, the late president Yeltsin found an alternative to Vox Populi in the hands of the KGB, Putin’s choice, it seems, is to seek the endorsement of the Russian Orthodox Church, which rose to prominence after more than seventy years of militant atheism. The Moscow Patriarchate also benefited from the massive property restitution and direct state support of the first “Putin Decade”.

For almost a thousand years, the Orthodox clergy has accused the West of indulging in all sorts of sins, democracy among them. Generations of conservative Russian ideologists have been preaching about the West’s corruption and decadence. Russia may be “too big to fail”, but fail it will, they warned, should it succumb to the promises of material wealth and prosperity. For many in the Russian church, political pluralism is nothing but temptation, lies and deceit. Democracy, with its insufferable burden of compromises and deals, is fatal for the state, stretching from the Baltic to the Pacific. If choosing is inevitable, they argue, we should choose faith, not face.

A few days before the last election, the leading Orthodox website declared that “the duty of every true believer is to support and elect Vladimir Putin as our next president”. If the Vox Dei are ignored, Russia’s demise will be unavoidable, argue Putin’s supporters from the Moscow Patriarchate. Patriarch Kirill misses no occasion to praise Putin as a ‘gift from heaven”, while stressing his orthodox credentials and adherence to traditional values.

Holy or not, with Putin in the Kremlin for at least another six years, Russia’s decline is insured. This global power, once capable of being an alternative to the US or emerging Chinese leadership in the Eurasian region, now bleeds heavily in the hands of corrupt and incompetent bureaucrats. In 1812, the narrow victory at the battle of Borodino allowed Napoleon to take Moscow unobstructed. Less than two years later, Cossacks entered Paris, thus saving Europe from the hands of a dictator. Whether the Russian military has a part to play in the drama of 2012 remains to be seen.

For Putin, Russia might be too big to fail. The island of St. Helene, on the other hand, might be too small.

The views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect 51łÔąĎ’s editorial policy.  

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