A Novosibirsk Report for the Putin era?

Back in 1983, the Novosibirsk Institute of Economics was one of the relatively liberal and free-thinking corners of Soviet academic research, not least because of the presence of Abel Aganbegyan as its director and the newly-hired and subsequently legendary Tatyana Zaslavskaya (later founder of VTsIOM and now honorary president of the Levada Center). A team under Zaslavskaya produced a report on agricultural productivity that addressed many of the fundamental weaknesses of the Soviet system and which informed the subsequent reform debate. This ‘Novosibirsk Report’ can thus be considered one of the foundational documents of Mikhail Gorbachev’s perestroika.

I found myself thinking about this report when reading ОБЩЕСТВО И ВЛАСТЬ В УСЛОВИЯХ ПОЛИТИЧЕСКОГО КРИЗИСА (‘Society and the State in Conditions of Political Crisis’), a new document from the highly-regarded Center for Strategic Research (TsSR), a think tank backed by Kremlin über-insider-turned-loyal-critic Alexei Kudrin. A passage picked up by Brian Whitmore on the always-insightful Power Vertical blog is well worth re-quoting:

Our research shows that the crisis has become irreversible. regardless of the scenarios of its further development. Maintaining political stability, let alone a return to the pre-crisis status quo, is no longer possible … At this stage we view the probability of such a scenario as high because the escalation of violence has already started. As it spreads, the return of the protests to a peaceful course is becoming less and less likely.

The essence of the ‘Novosbirsk Report’ was not really about agriculture; it was using Soviet farming as a metaphor to discuss the wider crisis of the state, not least because that was the only safe way to deliver such a critique at the time. Nowadays, fortunately, people need not be so elliptical in the warnings, and the TsSR certainly pulls no punches. However, in many ways they are similar documents, pointing to structural problems based on excessive administrative control of the economy, which have potentially disastrous political consequences for the current Kremlin incumbents.

It is hard to overstate the importance of the ‘Novosibirsk Report’ in terms of empowering those who felt the status quo was untenable, not least because it was sober, scholarly, produced by trusted insiders and chimed with the observable facts on the ground. Although the modern Russian elite clearly is exposed to a vastly wider range of inputs and perspectives, a cacophony in which any one voice can too easily be lost, I wonder if the TsSR, especially thanks to Kudrin’s presence, will prove to have a more penetrating tone than most (especially is, as its president Mikhail Dmitriev moots, it joins the current bandwagon and sets up its own reform party). After all, no one can assume Kudrin of being some wide-eyed naif, US-funded enemy of Russian stability or bohemian dilettante. This report and similar analyses may help convinced more within the elite that the current model of Putinism offers them no hope of long-term stability (= a continued enjoyment of their current wealth and power), and empower and justify those already expressing some views. Streetpower, after all, rarely topples governments — even in Egypt — but what it often does is divide the elites, something that sometimes opens the door to meaningful reform, and sometimes brings a regime crashing down. (And to this extent, arguably Zaslavskaya and the ‘Novosibirsk Report’ were just as much responsible for the collapse of the USSR as Reagan and Yeltsin…)

Not just echoes but ghosts of spring 1991…

No, we’re some away from this yet

In my most recent column in the Moscow News, Echoes of 1991, I considered the recent street violence in Moscow in the context of the mass protests in support of Boris Yeltsin in spring 1991. Of course, there are limits to all historical analogies; in particular there is no Boris Yeltsin to unite the anti-Kremlin forces and Russia 2012 is in a much better place that the USSR in its final — terminal — year. Ironically, one of the key engines of the current protest movement is, after all, economic success and the consequent rise of a middle class not dependent directly on the state, compared with the economic crisis of the late Soviet Union. My key point, though, was to compare how those protests, or rather how the ways in which they were managed by the authorities, were regarded by hard-liners, more moderate forces within the Kremlin and the radicals.

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Waiting for the Bastrykinshchina?

на русском языке

The “shchina” is one of those splendid and distinctive features of Russian history and language: it literally just turns a name or word into a generic thing, but in effect, it tends to mean the “bad time” associated with someone or something. In the twentieth century, it essentially has connotations of purge and repression: the 1937-8 Yezhovshchina when Yezhov’s NKVD swept through the CPSU, butchering and banishing to the Gulags, the 1946-52 Zhdanovshchina that forced Soviet culture in a Manichean mould; dedovshchina, “grandfatherism,” the seniority-based culture of bullying that still afflicts the armed forces; and so on.

A little tongue-in-cheek, as I certainly don’t anticipate any mass purges or convoys of hapless prisoners heading off for forced labor projects (Skolkolag, anyone?), but I did find myself wondering how long before we start to think of the potential for a bastryshchina?

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Playing the parallels: 1905 not 1917

“Revolutions are rarely fair fights. Those in power usually have more firepower; they lose not because they are outgunned, but because they will not or cannot use it against their enemies.”

My latest column in the Moscow News , ‘Not 1917, but maybe 1905?‘ picks up where my last blogpost on Moscow’s Praetorians left off, considering the arithmetic of power and also playing the usual historian’s game of looking for parallels. There are some excitable suggestions around that Russia is currently in ‘1917’ mode, but it is important to remember that tsarist may well have been moribund, losing its last plausible opportunity for modernizing reform when Stolypin was assassinated in 1911, but what really brought it down then was the hammer-blow of the First World War. Without such a dramatic systemic shock, inertia and aristocratic self-interest may well have kept it lumbering on for a while longer, a zombie regime dead but still mobile. Russia today is, I think, in distinctly better shape. If anything, I would suggest the parallels are more with 1905, when an accidental massacre triggered a nationwide explosion of violent but incoherence anger and protest, one the state could ultimately suppress piecemeal, but a harbinger of greater troubles ahead. I certainly don’t think Putin is yet willing to abdicate…

‘The KGB Campaign against Corruption in Moscow, 1982-1987’ by Luc Duhamel

While mentioning book reviews in the pipeline, I ought also to mention Luc Duhamel’s The KGB Campaign against Corruption in Moscow, 1982-1987 (Pittsburg UP, 2010), which I’ve reviewed for the re-launched Soviet & Post-Soviet Review. Duhamel looks at Moscow’s two largest trade organizations: the Chief Administration of Trade (Glavtorg) and the Administration of the Moscow Fruit and Vegetable Office (Glavmosplodovoshprom – gotta love these Soviet-era constructions), which became engines of embezzlement, corruption and clientelism, and thus obvious targets for the KGB once its former chief, Yuri Andropov, had become General Secretary of the CPSU in 1982. After all, Andropov was not only something of a puritan Leninist, he also had a much greater awareness of the delegitimizing and dysfunctional impacts of corruption on the Soviet system. The campaign was also a handy way of removing and intimidating the Brezhnevites still dominant within the apparat and those who resisted Andropov’s program for limited reform. As Duhamel shows, early victories petered out before the trade organizations’ counter-attack, with accusations of abuses of investigative powers, dark allusions to Stalinist repression and careful exploitation of their networks and powers. The irony is that many of these venal but able wheeler-dealers were to be rehabilitated in the perestroika era precisely for their entrepreneurial skills.

Duhamel knows the trade organizations inside out, but although in the main I think his portrayal of the investigations and their political context is good, I was less comfortable accepting their detail in every respect. He draws on official court and investigation records, newspaper accounts and interviews, but I know from my own experiences researching crime and security issues that these are not always as reliable as we might hope. This was a time, after all, when the press was an organ of propaganda, when the courts were thoroughly politicized and when investigations often retailed rumor as fact when it was politically expedient. (It would be easy to make a cheap dig here about the modern situation, but in fairness however great the limitations of the modern Russia media and judiciary, they are a world away from the pre-glasnost’ Soviet model.)

As a rather surreal first, I even found myself quoting Rumsfeld on “known knowns” when asking the question of quite what can we be sure we know? These are the inevitable caveats of any attempt to research the underbelly of such a society, and it does not at all invalidate the book. I think Duhamel has done the scholarship a service with this study, which still has a great deal to commend it: I think it is better on the trade organizations and their corruption than about the politics and operational methods of the KGB, but there is much here for anyone who wants to understand quite how the late Soviet system really worked (or didn’t).

Luc Duhamel, The KGB Campaign against Corruption in Moscow, 1982-1987. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2010, xviii + 249pp., $26.95.

‘Afgantsy’ by Rodric Braithwaite

I’ve just reviewed this book for Europe-Asia Studies and so eventually my lengthier thoughts will see the light of day, but in the interim I just wanted to note how good this new study of the Soviet war on Afghanistan turns out to be. In essence, it doesn’t say anything that hasn’t been said elsewhere, albeit often in Russian-language treatments of the war, but it brings everything together in a judicious, comprehensive and wonderfully-readable way that in my opinion make it the best overall history of the war (from the Soviet side) to date. Title notwithstanding, it doesn’t focus specifically on the actual afgantsy, the veterans (though where it does, I was personally pleased to see it drawing on my Afghanistan: the Soviet Union’s last war), but it is nonetheless full of fascinating personal experiences and anecdotes, many recounted personally to the author. A first-rate history.

Rodric Braithwaite, Afgantsy: the Russians in Afghanistan, 1979-89. London: Profile Books, 2011 and New York: OUP (USA), xiv + 418pp.

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