The more things change...

Try to guess who wrote the following passage and when:

The traditional American Sovietologists harp on the difficulties and unpredictability of Russia's internal processes, which do not fit the usual Western criteria and stereotypes. Some analysts cannot accept the idea of a strong Russia, whether it be imperial or democratic. They propose that the West either take a wait-and-see approach or develop a new containment strategy.

Partnership opponents within Russia...reject cooperation with the West as inseparable from the democratizing of Russia, and view democratization itself as an obstacle to renewed authoritarianism and the forceful establishment of "order" within the territory of the former Soviet Union.

All the opponents of partnership - Russian and American - share the thesis that Russia is doomed to confrontation with the world around it and that East and West are fatally incompatible.

The author of these lines was Yeltsin's first Foriegn Minister, Andrei Kozyrev, writing in the May/June 1994 issue of Foreign Affairs. That article, titled "The Lagging Partnership," also had the following forward-looking statement, which might seem prophetic had it not been fairly self-evident at the time:

Russian foreign policy inevitably has to be of an independent and assertive nature. If Russian democrats fail to achieve it, they will be swept away by a wave of aggressive nationalism, which is now exploiting the need for national and state self-assertion.

Not that the Putvedev years have been years of unadulterated "aggressive nationalism," but the guys in power have certainly learned to ride that wave.

Who Lost Russia? A rogues' gallery from a decade ago

Last February, I was inspired to collect a bunch of references from the past 10 years to westerners asking "who lost Russia?"

At the time, I promised a follow-up post, which has now been over a year in coming (no doubt you've all been waiting...). But since my original post, there's been a new twist on the question - last March, a WaPo columnist asked, "Who's to Blame for Russia?" - modifying the old "who lost Russia?" question by stirring in one of Russian philosophy's "eternal questions."

And the question came up in an interesting interview with Mark Medish:

(Konstandakopoulos) Who lost Russia?

(Medish) Russia may not have been lost. If it was lost in any sense of the word, it was lost by the Russians. Not from outside. I do not believe that those outside have the gift of losing countries. And this is the wrong way to think of the world. It is up to the Russians what to do with their country. If they feel themselves to be losers, it is because of their policies.

(Konstandakopoulos) I phrased the question in this way because this is how you traditionally do.

(Medish) US tradition teaches us how Americans think of the world, not how the world is. We go through cycles of high expectations and disappointments from other countries.

(Konstandakopoulos) A new cold war?

(Medish) I don't think so. There is no ideological component. Russia went through a transitional phase, it was quite weak, it sought a new identity after the collapse of the empire.

(Konstandakopoulos) What do you mean by transition? A transition to what?

(Medish) Good question. To begin with, a transition from something, from empire, from a communist-controlled political system, to something that they should decide. It is up to Russia whether to win or to lose. The ability of Europe and the United States to decide what the new Russian identity will be is extremely limited. We should not delude ourselves.

Actually, another variant on the question was posed last year as well: "Who Lost Moldova?" But I digress. The first anniversary of Yeltsin's death (which was yesterday, if I'm not mistaken) seems like a good time to revisit the 1990s. And an excellent vehicle for a trip back in time is a 1999 NYT Magazine article on the era, and specifically the illustrations to the article. Presumably, they are intended to depict people who, one way or another, were involved in "losing" Russia. I've listed the individuals pictured, in case you can't read the captions, and I tried to provide some links to bios in case you hadn't heard about some of these folks in the past few years.



David Lipton, Robert Rubin and Lawrence Summers; Anatoly Chubais; Boris Yeltsin and President Clinton; Tatyana Dyachenko.

Gennadi Zyuganov; Strobe Talbott and Viktor Chernomyrdin; Yegor Gaidar; Jeffrey Sachs.


Sergei Stepashin; Viktor Chernomyrdin and Vice President Gore; Vladimir Gusinsky; Boris Berezovsky.

Obviously one shouldn't attach too much meaning to the selection of photos, but it's interesting that the only guy who shows up twice, Chernomyrdin, still has a not unimportant job, and that Khodorkovsky did not merit placement in this photo array at all.

More fun with Yandex's Pulse of the Blogosphere

Even when his era had ended relatively recently, way back in 2001, Yeltsin was a less popular topic for Russian-language bloggers than Gorbachev:


Пульс блогосферы по запросам ельцын , путин и горбачев


A few of the Kremlin's less favorite people (any other recommendations to add to the list? I have a feeling I'm leaving someone out):


Пульс блогосферы по запросам литвиненко , политковская, закаев и пасько


Oligarchs - fallen and otherwise:


Пульс блогосферы по запросам гусинский, березовский, ходорковский и абрамович

It appears that MBKh is no longer a blogger cause celebre - after some impressive spikes in 2003 and 2005 (corresponding roughly to his arrest and trial), he's received less attention this year than Abramovich or Berezovsky.

Requiem for the '90s; or, Let us now praise floppy disks

Ten years ago, I was a newly minted college grad, just embarking on a year in which I would hold five different jobs (including, happily, one that had me in Moscow for over a month) before returning to the academy.

During some of that year's quieter moments, while I was in Durham, NC, I thought I would try to translate a book I picked up in Moscow (ah, the optimism of youth!). I didn't get farther than the first few pages, but earlier this year when Yeltsin's passing reminded everyone about the Russia of the '90s I was compelled to find that snippet - or scrap, if you will - of translation and post it in memory of Boris Nikolayevich. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the file for the life of me - that is, until yesterday, when I was transferring the contents of some old floppy disks to my hard drive.

Thanks to an enterprising internet librarian, you can now read the book in Russian online here. My source for the cover image was here. And here's the bit I translated:

Nikolai Modestov
Criminal Moscow:
A Documentary Chronicle of the Lawlessness of the '80's and '90's

In Lieu of an Introduction

The city empties rapidly with the onset of twilight. The odd passers-by, stepping around the heaps of trash left over from the day's "market activity," hurry home quickly. Metro passengers avert their eyes from the muscular young men with close-cropped hair who curse and smoke in right in the traincar. There are more cars on the street than people. This is understandable, nowadays it is safer to travel in an automobile.

Activity is concentrated around the nightclubs, casinos, and brightly-lit supermarkets which are open "day and night." These are the places that the gleaming Lincolns, Mercedes, Jeeps, and the speedy "eights" gather. The guarded parking lots will resemble an auto show until morning. And the deeper the city falls into slumber, the more desperate the partying is in the bars and other establishments. It is the hour of the tough guys of various crews, the reckless women of the shadows, the "merchants of success" and the straight-up criminals, who are ready to spend the whole night being deafened by overplayed hits, staring at the crowd, and inhaling cigarette smoke and the smell of restaurant food—if only to forget the stench of prison filth and gulag cells. Criminal Moscow is on the town...

The current lifestyle of these kings will become a distinctinve symbol for future generations. Just as Chicago of the '30's has become synonymous with the gangster era, Moscow of the '90's will be the standard for lawlessness, a period of impotent authorities and characterized by the dictates of mafia rule.

There is no need to examine figures or turn to the militia's crime reports to understand the uncontrolled increase in crime. No one feels safe in the capital today. Bankers, surrounded by former "alfas" and members of the Spetsnaz, are still not insulated from the bullets of hired assassins or from remotely controlled bombs. The rank-and-file office workers who live from paycheck to paycheck stand to become victims of amateur muggers or catch a fatal blow from the brass knuckles of a small-time hood flexing his muscle. It is not even necessary to mention those who find themselves on the "front lines" of the criminal battles: the "godfathers," racketeers, and other mafiosi. The brotherhood feels the pain of clashes between criminal clans far more than the actions of law enforcement agencies like the militia, prosecutors, and other security forces. What's more, innocent bystanders are, alas, not infrequently the victims of these battles.

The murder count in the Moscow region exceeds three thousand per year. However, even this figure does not fully reflect the real situation. To make things look better, police station employees resort to tricks of the trade. Everyone knows that the higher-ups judge their subordinates on the reports they receive from their secretaries, and no one wants to stand before a general and get a dressing-down.

The Moscow of this era was quite successfully recreated in the TV series "Brigada." To quote Lou Reed, those were different times. Just how different was explored, albeit briefly, in the NYT's article-sized romp around the city, "36 Hours in Moscow," which was published a couple of months ago:

OLD-TIMERS always marvel about how much Moscow has changed since the stultifying days of the Soviet Union. That's ancient history. What's really worth marveling about is how much the city has changed in the last year or two. Few places in the world have undergone such a rapid, dizzying and cacophonic transformation as Moscow, and it shows no sign of abating. The gangster Moscow of the 1990s has given way to something tamer, more metropolitan, perhaps, but it is still brash and flashy. The city, like Russia itself, seems to be in search of its identity — embracing the past, though often ironically, while plunging full-speed ahead. What the future holds is uncertain, but meantime, Muscovites are indulging in what an energy-fueled boom has bestowed on them.