Victory, in sport as in life, is valued not
just for the final result, but particularly when it is
achieved by following the rules of the game.
One year ago, supporters of democracy
criticized President Vladimir Putin for running a
re-election campaign that destroyed the very institution
of presidential elections. It is now clear, however,
that what seemed the abstract protests of high-brow
liberal intellectuals have produced very real
consequences. Had candidate Putin announced in advance
his plans for a second term, such as replacing social
benefits with cash payments, and had he hit the campaign
trail for two or three months to stump for his policy
initiatives from dawn to dusk, he would have had a much
harder time winning over senior citizens, and he might
have lost their support altogether. But at least he
would have been forced to contend with the public's
reaction. Who knows, that reaction might have even
compelled him to alter his plans somewhat.
Had Putin taken part in a televised
debate -- even against an opponent as unpopular as
Communist Nikolai Kharitonov -- pensioners might have
taken to the streets long before they went to the polls.
The use of political campaigns to advance the cause of
reform is common practice in developing countries such
as Colombia, Peru and Brazil. Putin's victory in March
2004 was as meaningless as it was convincing. This is
the price to be paid for playing around with the rules
of the game.
You could object that Putin's oligarchic
rivals -- the terrible great oligarchs of the 1990s --
have only themselves to blame for playing around with
the rules rather than playing by the rules. But there's
an important difference between an oligarch and the
president: An oligarch can use whatever means necessary
to achieve his aims, but the president should play by
the rules. An oligarch can loose a rabid television
anchor to achieve his personal goals, but the president
of Russia should not resort to such tactics -- not from
some abstract notion of purity and honor, but because
after the election he must govern his detractors as well
as his supporters. No matter what target the Kremlin
goes after -- the ambitious Khodorkovsky, the frank
Illarionov, the clever Yushchenko, a corrupt governor or
pensioners who don't know what's best for them -- its
salvos inevitably land on the country as a whole. And if
the regime is now being advised to strike a blow against
revolution, you can be sure that it will miss the
revolution and hit Russia.
If only the authorities had emerged
victorious in a political battle -- winning over
legislators and convincing analysts and journalists --
to force Yukos to pay its back taxes. If only some other
presidential adviser -- to whom Putin actually listens
-- would publicly engage his economic adviser. If only
the regime would address pensioners as human beings.
The Kremlin has chosen to do just the
opposite. Imagine that you are sitting on a park bench
playing chess with someone you don't know. At a turning
point in the match you bash your opponent over the head
with the chessboard. Does this constitute victory?
Technically, yes. Is such a victory something to be
proud of? Not really.
Konstantin Sonin is an assistant
professor at the New Economic School/CEFIR.