
21.03.09
We are hearing the ritual from the mouths of our overbearing superiors more frequently: "Don't rock the boat." Presidential Deputy Chief of Staff Vladislav Surkov last week attacked those who are speaking out in favor of changing the political system. Dmitriy Medvedev also spoke unexpectedly rudely and anxiously about the democratic opposition in an interview with Spanish journalists. United Russia's Duma deputies are particularly passionate in calling for people "to not rock the boat."
The phrase "don't rock the boat" was introduced into the Russian political lexicon by Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev. Even then, at the end of the eighties, I struggled to imagine this picture. Until I understood that the situation depicted in the phrase is completely the wrong way round. It is clear that the waves rock the boat, and not the passengers sitting in it. The passengers are thrown from side to side; in fear they grab the sides. And the frightened helmsman shouts to them: "Don't rock the boat, don't grab the sides!" Well, he cannot shout at the waves, or at the wind. That only underlines his impotence before the elements. Whereas a stern call directed towards the passengers, on the contrary, creates the illusion that the situation is, as before, under his control, and the storm and wind are only dangerous to the leaderless.
Therefore, every time I hear that the "opposition is rocking the boat," I understand: There is a storm. And the authorities are alarmed. They want to see things in such a way that the opposition are the ones responsible for the instability and stirring up the population's dissatisfaction. And nothing at all to do with prices in the shops and the currency exchange booths. In the opinion of our comrades from the authorities, democracy is when they rule and everyone is satisfied with them. But if they rule and far from everyone is satisfied with this, then this -- in the opinion of our high-ranking comrades -- is already a revolt. When the people, for example, approve of Vladimir Putin, they call this "a broad base of popular support." But when they do not approve, it is a coordinated attack.
Meanwhile, there is no opposition activation in Russia. And the ever more frequent and angry calls directed against it primarily reflects the Kremlin and the White House occupants' waning belief in themselves. How else to explain Medvedev -- who has spent a year assiduously considering the spiritual benefits of democracy and pluralism of opinions -- suddenly telling Spanish journalists that the opposition in Russia is "bawling in different places." Dmitriy Medvedev seemingly does not attend opposition demonstrations. The opposition, as is well known, is not allowed to appear on television. And Medvedev himself has admitted that he finds out the opposition's opinions through the internet.
Why has he suddenly got the impression that the opposition is "bawling?" What happened to Medvedev's hearing and to his internet?
The opposition is not the issue. Just take the latest elections last weekend. It seems everything is as required: United Russia played a one-sided game and could not lose it. Were any unexpected victories for democratic candidates, supported by a powerful wave of protest voting, recorded anywhere? Nothing of the sort. But the victory of the "party of power" did not come to pass either. It simply transpired that, in proportion to the spreading crisis, United Russia itself is beginning to splinter internally into many disunited little Russias, bitterly fighting among themselves and not paying attention to the calls from the center.
A paradoxical picture is taking shape in the Russian electoral system. In the eyes of the population elections are fulfilling the function of legitimizing power less and less. But for those who participate in the elections, their significance is increasing more and more: as an instrument of the intra-clan, inner-power struggle for the diminishing flow of budget and extra-budgetary funds.
To all appearances, another anti-crisis project is also the result of confusion and a lack of faith: the new trial of Mikhail Khodorkovskiy.
Who is actually panicking? Khodorkovskiy has served more than half his sentence, and to suddenly drag him from the prison camp in order to try him for a second time for the very same crime is typical arbitrariness. And if the first trial could have been viewed by someone as a more or less deserved punishment of an arrogant oligarch, the second only underlines that Khodorkovskiy is not a villain, but a victim. Particularly in the midst of the crisis. At the end of the day, last time he was tried to commemorate the end of the era of the oligarchs, sequestrations, and defaults, and the oil would now belong to the people. However, as is clear today, that trial changed nothing fundamental about the fate of the oil and the people. And the sequestrations and defaults continue to circle above its, the people's, untroubled head.
And it seems that the idea of a new trial of Khodorkovskiy is that of a moth flying into a candle. Those who thought it up evidently simply did not manage to grasp, or did not want to admit, the new realities. And particularly that their guitar strings have snapped and the Teflon has come off. But the political system so vaunted by Surkov is, perhaps, perfect in its own way, but it no longer corresponds to reality. Like an umbrella in a storm on a ship. It is not suitable even for those who earlier stood with pleasure under this umbrella.
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| Source: Russkiy Newsweek |  |