Russia and “elastic power”: will the burgeoning private security industry lead to private military companies, too?

Private security at the Russian embassy in Baghdad

Private security at the Russian embassy in Baghdad

I’ve just written a short piece for Blouin News on the news that already-relaxed restrictions on the security forces of gas giant Gazprom and oil pipeline corporation Transneft are to be lifted, allowing them increased access to lethal weapons and rules of engagement for their use. The represents a rolling back of the trend during the early Putin years, when the private security sector–which had become pretty much out of control in the 1990s–was reined in dramatically. The days of untrained corporate goons toting assault rifles in Moscow shopping centers are, I’m glad to say, pretty much over, even if the vigilante spirit they embody (in other words, a reluctance to trust the state and its agents to provide reliable, impartial security) is alive and well. The private security industry these days is a dynamic, extensive and growing sector, but also one under rather great legal and regulatory control.

What particularly interests me is the possibility that the growing armies of these semi-private corporations could in due course become the basis for a Russian mercenary industry. There are, of course, many Russian mercenaries around the world, as well as outfits at the extreme end of the private security market, such as firms such as RSB Group and Center-Al’fa, which have contracted out armed details to protect Russian embassies and commercial shipping which may be going into harm’s way. However, true PMCs tend to be larger organizations with a wider range of capacities. They also often have complex but generally cooperative relationships with their parent/host countries, and this seems to be a dimension which particularly interests the Russian government. Back in 2011, Putin suggested that “such companies are a way of implementing national interests without the direct involvement of the state” and last year Deputy PM Rogozin mused that it was worth considering the feasibility of setting up such PMCs with state backing. Although there appears to be some resistance within the defense ministry to this, a model could even be the way that the MVD has its own private security arm as a profit center. Between Gazprom, Transneft and the defense ministry, the potential is that powerful PMCs could quickly be formed.

Is this a big deal? The Kremlin regards all Russian companies and institutions–and especially those owned, backed or facilitated by the state–as potential tools at its disposal. Gazprom turns off the taps when there is a need to squeeze a neighbor; arms companies flock to do deals with despots the government would support. Just as the Viktor Bout enterprise demonstrated how the worlds of private arms trade and covert statecraft can merge, Russia’s PMCs would not doubt be expected to act at the Kremlin’s behest when need be. Neither the soft power of influence and authority, nor the traditional forms of hard power, this would be a kind of “elastic power”–flexible much of the time, but surprisingly tough and painful when wielded with intent. Like an OMON’s rubber truncheon

Czechs and Balances: arrests in Prague may actually be good news

Ekonom_49_450Prague is, needless to say, agog with the latest and biggest corruption story: the raids this morning by some 400 police officers, led by the ÚOOZ organized crime division, which led to a series of arrests. They included several members of parliament including the former head of the parliamentary party of the Civic Democrats (ODS)—the main party in the increasingly shaky governing coalition—Petr Tluchor, former agriculture minister Ivan Fuksa (ODS), as well as Government Office director and CEZ energy utility board member Lubomir Poul, former Military Intelligence chief Ondrej Pálenik, who now heads the State Material Reserves Administration. However, perhaps the most politically-charged is the arrest of Jana Nagyová, head of Prime Minister Petr Nečas’s private office head (and, according to scurrilous, unconfirmed, but not necessarily incorrect rumor, the now-divorcing PM’s lover). The very fate of the government may hinge on Nagyová’s fate, with the prospect of a no-confidence motion being tabled or even a fragmentation of that is already a fragile and, arguably, dysfunctional government.

Parliament interrupting its session, the value of the Czech koruna dipped slightly, and president Miloš Zeman—who may relish the opportunity to throw his weight around more—has called a meeting tomorrow with Nečas, Justice Minister Pavel Blažek and the national police chief. The main opposition party, the Social Democrats, have predictably called for the “immediate resignation of the prime minister” and early elections but perhaps the most serious risk is that this forced (or allows) the junior government partner, foreign minister Karel Schwarzenberg’s TOP 09, to bring Nečas down.

In contrast with the strikingly efficient handling of the recent floods, for which both local and national government deserve full credit, this looks like a shambles. The current government has been battered by a series of corruption cases that risks making Nečas look like Silvio Berlusconi minus the bunga-bunga parties. Perhaps it is no wonder that Czechs regard corruption as one of the most serious challenges to their state and foreign observers concur.

But let me add a note of unfashionable optimism here. This is not a corruption story so much as an anticorruption one. Of course, ideally the Czech Republic would be a shining beacon of probity, Denmark with knedliky, but in all conscience, this is hardly—yet—likely. Forty-plus years of Soviet rule and all the value-distorting, economy-strangling, society-warping pressure that entailed and then a crash transition to the market take time to assimilate. As is, 54th out of 176 in the 2012 Transparency International Corruption Perceptions Index, the ČR is near the mid-point of the ex-Soviet satellite states, between Estonia (32nd) and Bulgaria (75th). Lobbyists who go beyond the usual bounds, illegal wiretaps, embezzlement, sweetheart deals; they are hardly unique to the Czechs.

So a certain level of corruption within the elite is, while unconscionable, also probably inevitable. When corruption cases come to light, though, the real message is not that corruption exists, but that it comes to light. The tragic but also encouraging irony is that Nečas, who may be brought down by this investigation, was instrumental in giving prosecutors the resources and political autonomy to allow them properly to investigate corruption. All countries have at least some level of corruption—the mark of a mature, law-governed state is that even the most powerful people are not exempt from justice. While many high-level corruption cases in the ČR never seem to get anywhere and there are still certainly serious challenges, progress does seem to be being made. In short, this is a painful moment for many within the Czech political class, but these may be growing pains.

Postscript: Nečas and his apparent resignation

I write is as the news breaks that PM Nečas is apparently to resign tomorrow in response. To be sure, this might be because some unsavory facts relating to him are about to break or because of pressure within the cabinet, but in general terms, it is likewise counter-intuitively encouraging when a senior figure finds himself having to (or wanting to) take responsibility for the misdeeds of members of his team. I cannot help but contrast that with what happens in Russia, Ukraine and similar countries where democracy and the rule of law are so much more weakly rooted and where corruption is ignored, mobilized as a weapon against enemies (and a treat for friends) and nothing in and of itself to discomfort the ruling powers. The Czechs may be embarrassed by their current travails, but they should be perversely proud. Kinda. OK, better not to have a government mired in corruption in the first place, but if you are going to have that, then arrests, resignations and ample public disclosure and opprobrium are all signs of a healthy political culture…

The Presidential Administration and the “administrativniki”

prezbannerIn an interesting report published by Slon, Russian political scientist Stanislav Belkovsky recently cast doubt on whether the “siloviki” (“men of force”—the current and past cadre of security and military elites) ought to be considered a single force. Of course he is right, and one of my long-time hobby horses has precisely been to pick apart where and how they can cohere and conversely where the fault lines and rivalries fragment them. Nonetheless, one of the tools of modern Kremlinology 2.0 is to look for particular sodalities, clans, communities or blocs which often cut across functional and sometimes even ideological boundaries, in the hope of trying to understand the building blocks of modern Russian elite politics.

One approach is to look at people who passed through particular locations of institutions—witness the “Peterburgers”—and treat them as such a “club” (like all clubs, members can join several, and even drift in and out of them). In this context, the Presidential Administration, which “is responsible for providing the President with administrative support and enabling him to carry out his duties as head of state”—a bland formulation for what is, in many ways, Putin’s shadow government, the Deep State’s executive.

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Prague, Moscow, and the value of speaking firmly, clearly and with one voice

A cliché, yes, but a cool one

A cliché, yes, but a cool one

It is, of course, a hackneyed cliché to talk about the “Russian bear.” Nonetheless, it is fair to say that prodding either with a stick is equally ill-advised. However, the usual advice on encountering a bear is to give it its space, be submissive, be quiet. That doesn’t work so well with Moscow. By the same token it is a dangerous caricature to suggest (as some sadly still do) that force or assertiveness is “all Russia understands.” However, what is certainly true is that meekness and the appearance of division tend to encourage Moscow to become more confrontational. Consider, for example, the marked failure of the US government’s “re-set” policy, which has failed to deter Russia from buttressing Syrian tyranny, spying on and perhaps murdering its critics abroad, publicly outing US agents, hounding Ambassador McFaul and doing everything but kicking sand in Obama’s face.

In this context—and given that I’m in Prague for the summer, I’m especially interested in Czech-Russian relations—I was perturbed by the details of the extradition to Moscow of Russian businessman Alexei Torubarov in May, especially in the context of what seems a growing assertiveness by Russia in Central and Southern Europe.

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‘When Putin Falls’ – Wikistrat simulation explores Life after Vova

wikistrat-logoThe crowdsourced simulations consultancy Wikistrat ran an internal exercise in March on ‘When Putin Falls’, exploring the potential ways in which Putin may leave office before the end of his potential constitutional term as president and what this may mean for Russia. I was fortunate enough to lead the exercise and it was fascinating to see what over 70 analysts from around the world collaboratively came up with over ten days and work it into a document which does not so much seek to generate a predictive narrative for Russia across the rest of the decade, or even to express any belief that Putin would not serve out his term, but instead explore the range of trajectories the country could follow.

The full report is Wikistrat’s intellectual property, but the Executive Summary is freely shareable and so I am delighted to link it here:

When Putin Falls-Executive Summary

Not so much the era of stagnation as the era of decomposition?

What happens when all the pieces start to come loose?

What happens when all the pieces start to come loose?

In Russian on the inoSMI website here.

Russian politics is pretty de-institutionalized as is, with real power in the “deep state” largely located within Putin’s court and a few other informal circles of common interest and converging intent. The formal structures of governance–from the cabinet to the United Russia bloc–more than anything else reflect rather than determine the balance of power in the system. Although there have been parallels made with the Brezhnevite period zastoya, the “time of stagnation,” of late my sense is less of stagnation–except in the thinking of certain key players–so much as decomposition. The once-monolithic edifice of the “party of power” is not just riven by fault lines of every kind–these were always there–but witnessing the opening of many of these divides.

Kudrin left and despite talk of his returning as PM, he is if anything signaling his disinclination to be co-opted on anything but his own terms. Surkov is out, maybe pushed, maybe jumping (my suspicion is that it was a little of both: better leave on your own terms if you think you are otherwise going to be sacked). Medvedev is still there in body, but hardly in spirit: Russia’s zombie prime minister. But in many ways more striking is the sense that second-tier figures are either leaving or else beginning to plan for a post-Putin era as the public disenchantment with the regime grows. Alexei Chesnakov, for example, has stepped down from the Presidium of the United Russia General Council. He complained that:

I have accumulated some baggage of stylistic disagreements with the party. I do not agree with some of United Russia’s legislative initiatives, including those concerning regulations of the media space and the Internet. Apart from that, most bills aren’t discussed at all by the party’s regional structures, which stymies a full debate

Poor dear; this commitment to pluralism does seem to be a recent epiphany. In practice, he was presumably motivated both by the departure of his patron Surkov and also the clear signs that he was not going to get a Senatorial position. The important thing, though, is that even a consummate careerist like Chesnakov is willing to move away from United Russia rather than, as was the norm in the past, swallow any doubts and make the best of the only game in town.

But in fairness what one could loosely call the “party of opposition” is suffering a parallel decomposition. Navalny is on trial, Udaltsov under house arrest, Sobchak retreating into glitzy domesticity, Gennady Gudkov contemplating a run for the Moscow gubernatorial position but otherwise in limbo, all under the Investigations Committee’s long, dark shadow (and lesser figures like Alexei Gaskarov, are being plucked off one by one). The opposition managed to hold another reasonably large protest in Bolotnaya earlier this month, and Navalny certainly has a following of his own, but otherwise the Coordinating Council, meant precisely to give the movement greater coherence and impact, has proven to be a waste of time and optimism. Max Katz, one of its founders, has publicly left it. This may not be the greatest loss in itself–Ben Judah memorably and not-unfairly once described him as a “lightweight pseudoactivist beloved of Moscow hipsters”–but illustrates the further disintegration of the opposition. While Vladimir Kara-Murza might inveigh that “liberal parties have no moral right to compete with each other” in today’s Russia, this is not an argument which presently seems to have much traction.

Of course, nothing is for ever and no processes cannot be reversed; we wait to see if the Navalny trial, for example, manages to become a cause celebre (though it looks as if the Kremlin has learned lessons in managing such events, and above all the power in making repression boring and dragged-out to reduce its impact). However for the moment, the trend in Russian politics is away from institutionalization and towards even greater fragmentation, away from competing visions and towards negative politics of smear, scare and kompromat, away from the emergence of ideological and programmatic blocs and towards a struggle of factional and individual “political entrepreneurs” eager to win short-term gain or to position themselves for a post-Putin tomorrow regardless of what happens today. This is a messy, unstable and unedifying spectacle.

Postscript: The All-Russia People’s Front

PeoplesFrontToday’s dutifully enthusiastic election of Putin to head the new People’s Front (or Popular Front for Russia)–by acclamation, with even the moderator saying “I’m going to ask the dumbest question ever: who do you want as leader?”–simply adds to this process. Increasingly the Kremlin seems to be adopting a policy of “institutionalized deinstutionalization”. What this mouthful means is that instead of parties, which are generally assumed to have policy platforms of some kind, and structures implying chains of command below the Boss, Putin wants to rely on a broad, amorphous movement whose platform seems little more than Narod! Rossiya! Putin! (“The People! Russia! Putin!”)–if anything even less specific than Uvarov’s “Orthodoxy, Autocracy and Nationality.” Increasingly, the regime rests upon a platform of nationalism, xenophobia and Putin’s personality cult. These are all well-worn and increasingly rickety supports.

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