In 2015, when Myanmar held a general election, the opposition National League for Democracy won a landslide victory and elected the country’s president. However, the party leader, Nobel Peace Prize laureate Aung San Suu Kyi, was barred by the constitution from holding the presidency. Therefore, U Htin Kyaw became a nominal ruler, while Suu Kyi holds real power.
This lesson of recent history may prove highly relevant to the political situation in Russia.
Television personality and socialite Ksenia Sobchak last week declared her candidacy in next year’s presidential election. The news produced a swarm of commentary, with some analysts supporting her decision and many others, predictably, criticizing the whole project as a diversionary maneuver by the Kremlin, designed to divert attention to the strong campaign by corruption fighter Alexei Navalny. Navalny has not been allowed to register his own candidacy, but Sobchak with her often expressed “oppositional” views is meant to be a Trojan Horse who will split his base, the reasoning goes.
I have my own theory on the Trojan Horse nature of the Sobchak candidacy. While I am not privy to calculations in the Kremlin, all efforts to divine what goes on behind its crenelated walls are based on speculation.
I have been convinced for about 10 years that Vladimir Putin is tired and eager to get out of Russian politics. He wants to live like Russian oligarch Roman Abramovich – travel around the world in his yacht, hobnob with the rich and famous, buy a top-flight English soccer club, marry a succession of beautiful models, etc. Russian politics is a sordid environment, and quite dangerous, as well. Having allegedly amassed on of the largest financial fortunes in the world, he wants time to enjoy it – and the time to do it is becoming unpleasantly short.
The question is how to transfer power and not have his successor come down on him like a ton of bricks. Since the Bolshevik Revolution one hundred years ago Russia has grappled with the question of legitimacy and all new rulers asserted their right to rule by coming down on their predecessors. There is always a risk that Putin’s hand-picked heir would turn to bite the hand that fed him.
Before the 2008 presidential election Putin’s desire to appoint a successor was evident. It had to be someone he could trust to hold on to power and ensure the continuity of the existing political establishment, but at the same time not go after him for misdeeds while in office. It is a deal Putin had apparently struck with Russia’s first president Boris Yeltsin, and to this day he is scrupulously sticking to it, never touching anyone in Yeltsin’s immediate entourage even while criticizing his predecessor’s policies – in that same tradition of Russian rulers since 1917..
Back then, Putin identified two men, Sergey Ivanov and Dmitry Medvedev, and was clearly trying to choose between them. Ivanov was a strong candidate, but Putin could not be sure of his loyalty. Medvedev, on the other hand, was a highly loyal shlimazl. In the end, Putin chose him, settling for loyalty over competence and hoping that Medvedev would grow into his position the way Putin himself had done when he was plucked from obscurity by Yeltsin.
That proved a miscalculation. In four years Medvedev revealed himself incapable of standing on his own two feet. He had no team; he failed to place his people in key positions and remained a political nonentity. He was devoted to Putin, but if Putin had passed real power to him, he would have been overthrown within months.
In 2011, Putin surrounded Medvedev with his own loyalists – for example, bringing St. Petersburg mayor Valentina Matviyenko to Moscow and making her the speaker of the upper house of parliament. But in the end he realized that he would have to come back rather than rely on Medvedev – especially as street protests started to rock Moscow. He did so almost on an impulse – and with visible disgust.
Back in 2008 oil prices were at an all-time high and petrodollars were pouring in. It seemed there would always be enough money to enrich the kleptocrats and trickle down to the masses. The mood was optimistic. Now, Russia is in an economic crisis and, since its occupation of Crimea and invasion of Eastern Ukraine, a pariah under international sanctions. Domestically, the country has sunk into stagnation reminiscent of the final years of the Soviet Union – and Putin has now surpassed Leonid Brezhnev’s 18 years in power. He’s is presiding over a crippled kleptocracy with malfunctioning social, political and economic institutions that may fall into turmoil at any moment.
Unlike 2008, therefore, Russia can’t continue on the same path. It needs domestic reforms, and it needs to change course internationally. And Putin, if he has a hope of living out his days as a free private citizen, needs to be rehabilitated on the world stage, as well.
It’s a tall order but now, suddenly, there seems to be a small window of opportunity – and it will stay open for a very short time. Internationally, Putin is clearly in possession of some strong kompromat on Donald Trump. As long as Trump remains in the White House, he can probably protect Putin from international criminal charges ranging from the murder of Alexander Litvinenko in London to the downing of the Malaysian flight MH17 over Ukraine, killing 298 people in July 2014.
The situation may be favorable at home too. Navalny is a highly popular candidate. He is strong enough to hold power and prevent Russia from unravelling. Most important, he is a realist. He knows that in today’s Russia a smooth transition of power to the opposition can only happen at a price – and the price is protecting Putin and his inner circle. Navalny looks like someone who will be willing to strike a deal and who can be trusted to honor it.
But here Putin is facing a problem. Navalny’s popularity rests on his attacks on Putin’s era corruption. At the very least, the army of corrupt middle- and low-level bureaucrats and siloviki who have been robbing the country blind for two decades will have to stop stealing. But most likely a large number of them will face jail, confiscation of stolen property or a ban on holding public office. Such people should be kept in ignorance until the switch happens – lest they resort to desperate measures.
This is where Sobchak could prove useful. Despite her periodic criticism of Putin’s regime, she is a member of Putin’s team – by virtue of being the daughter of the late St. Petersburg mayor Anatoly Sobchak, Putin’s first political patron.
Here is the scenario: Putin, who has not announced whether he will take part in the election, will continue to “hesitate”, creating a degree of uncertainty which will keep everyone off balance. He will then enter the presidential race, while Navalny will remain on the sidelines. Everyone will expect Putin to win, and most votes will probably be cast for him – this is the way Russia works. In Russia, however, what matters is not who votes but who counts the votes. Thus, on the day after the election, Sobchak will be announced as a surprise winner. Putin will declare that he submits to the will of the people and leave. But, while Sobchak will be the nominal president, Navalny, perhaps appointed by her as prime minister, will be the power behind the throne.
Admittedly, this is a far-fetched scenario, but it is probably the only way for Putin to leave the Kremlin any other way except feet first. Nor is it clear what Navalny as Russia’s new leader will mean for Russia, Ukraine and the world.
