Winter Is Coming

PROLOGUE

The rise and fall of Russian democracy would make for a painfully short book. It took just eight years for Russia to go from jubilant crowds celebrating the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1992 to the ascendance of former KGB agent Vladimir Putin to the presidency. Then it took Putin another eight years to corrupt or dismantle nearly every democratic element in the country—balance in the branches of government, fair elections, independent judiciary, a free media, and a civil society that could work with the government instead of living in fear of it. Uncooperative oligarchs were jailed or exiled and the press quickly learned what could and could not be said. Putin also consolidated the Russian economy, clamping down on free market reforms and emphasizing the creation of “national champions” in the energy and banking sectors.

A potential turning point came in 2008, when Putin’s constitutional limit of two four-year terms was ending. Few expected him to retire gracefully, or at all, but exactly how he would keep control while keeping up appearances was a hot topic of debate. Putin had channeled power not just to his party or to his office, but to himself personally. His leaving would have been like ripping the spine out of the KGB mafia state he and his allies had spent eight years building. He could amend the Russian constitution to run again, but at the time Putin was still sensitive about keeping up democratic appearances. For one, it would have been awkward for his fellow G8 leaders to welcome him after any primitive power grab, and staying in the good graces of the leaders of the United States, Japan, and Western Europe was very useful to Putin at home. How could he be called anti-democratic, let alone a despot, if he was embraced so heartily by the likes of George W. Bush, Silvio Berlusconi, and Nicolas Sarkozy?

Putin’s dilemma gave those of us in the Russian opposition movement a brief glimmer of hope that the 2008 election could turn into an opportunity to change the course of the country. We knew the election itself would be rigged from start to finish, but we hoped exposing this corruption could lead to more people joining our cause. Russians were aware they were losing their freedoms under Putin, and they could still be sensitive about having their noses rubbed in it, as the massive 2011 protests later showed.

Putin’s decision was a tactical masterstroke. Instead of keeping the presidency himself, he endorsed his first deputy prime minister, the young Dmitry Medvedev, who was generally seen as far more liberal and pro-Western than his boss. The election was as predictable and rigged as could be expected, with Medvedev scoring a small fraction less than Putin had in 2004. (The joke at the time was that it would have been unacceptably ill-mannered for Medvedev to earn a higher percentage than Putin—or for him to be taller than Putin.) Medvedev immediately named Putin his prime minister and the two men switched offices in a graceful pas de deux on the grave of Russian democracy. Four years later, Medvedev duly handed the presidency back to his master, having changed the constitution so Putin could now sit for two six-year terms. In the 2012 election even less effort was made to hide the fact that Russia had truly become a dictatorship once again.

There were a few bumps in the road, however. Just three months before the presidential election on March 4, the largest political protests of the post-Soviet era had erupted spontaneously after the parliamentary elections were so blatantly rigged that it was too much for many to stomach. Over the next months, hundreds of thousands of Russians took to the streets, many chanting “Putin Must Go!” and “Russia Without Putin!”

I frequently participated along with other opposition leaders like Alexei Navalny and Boris Nemtsov, but it was the surprising appearance of tens of thousands of typically apolitical and apathetic Muscovites in Bolotnaya Square on December 10 that gave us hope that something might be changing. Since 2005, I had been at the front of many marches where we had been outnumbered by the riot police by at least ten to one. On December 24, in Sakharov Prospekt, the odds were reversed at last. Standing before a sea of opposition flags uniting against corruption and Putin, who could not dream of a new future?

But the momentum could not be maintained. Draconian new laws against the freedom of assembly were quickly passed, allowing for huge fines and criminalizing nonviolent protest. Many opposition leaders and members were harassed, arrested, and interrogated over their roles in organizing the protests. The Kremlin committed massive resources against the protests; the last mass demonstration on May 6, 2013, was brutally dispersed and led to the so-called Bolotnaya Square case that records show has involved more than thirteen thousand witness interviews and that led to dozens of protesters being sentenced to years in prison.

At the same time, the Kremlin-controlled media began to intensify its portrayal of the protesters and opposition leaders as dangerous extremists and quite possibly traitors to the motherland. Not only would the revolution not be televised, the would-be revolutionaries had no access to television. There were still a few significant protests after Putin’s so-called election was announced, but it became clear to me in 2012 that democracy was truly dead in Russia. I could no longer envision a peaceful transition away from Putin. If he fell it would be messy and likely violent. After I was called several times to come in for one of the prosecutor’s special interviews—you go in as a witness and come out as a suspect, if you come out at all—I decided not to return to Russia in 2013.

Here I would like to rewind and look again from outside of Russia. Oil price boom, propaganda, repression, and a compliant population notwithstanding, Putin could not have achieved what he did without considerable outside help. After all, it is not so easy to create a dictatorship in this day and age. Among other factors, global communication makes it difficult to prevent a country’s people from envying the rights and riches of their neighbors. This is one reason Putin has always done everything possible to support authoritarian regimes in Russia’s neighbors.

The global trend toward democracy in the second half of the twenty-first century is one of the greatest achievements of humankind. Before World War II, a vast majority of the world’s democratic governments were found in Europe and the Americas. Samuel Huntington documented this “third wave” of democratization in his 1991 book of the same name, while Francis Fukuyama’s was memorably titled The End of History in 1992. Liberal democracy and capitalism were the big winners of the last great ideological competition we would ever know. Totalitarianism and Communism were the big losers. The good guys won the Cold War, McDonald’s opened in Moscow, and it was time for a much deserved celebration.

But in Russia, the story was different. The end of the Cold War presented an opportunity, not just for economic advancement but for a welcoming embrace among the world’s democratic powers. Even as the Soviet Union crumbled, Russia, by far the largest and most powerful member, kept many of the USSR’s privileges and positions, as well as keeping the world’s largest nuclear arsenal while Ukraine, Belarus, and Kazakhstan were successfully pressured into giving theirs up. Russia took the Soviet spot on the United Nations Security Council and, despite perpetual unfounded complaints about suffering humiliation at the hands of the victorious West, there was nothing in the way of reparations demanded by the winning side. In fact, the United States and several other countries provided badly needed loan guarantees and other aid to Russia, directly and via the International Monetary Fund (IMF). Russia was even paid for bringing its troops back from Germany. This was not just charity. Collapse and chaos in the nuclear-armed giant would not have been in anyone’s best interests.

Nor were there any trials or truth and reconciliation commissions, internationally or domestically, about the former USSR. After decades of genocides, mass relocation and imprisonment, and totalitarian repression, it was decided to let bygones be bygones and move into the bright new future without recrimination. Of course many of the new leaders and officials had a personal interest in not digging too deeply into the cruel past. I’m not proud of having once been a member of the Communist Party myself, even if joining had been a calculated move so that a lack of party affiliation did not hurt my developing chess career. (I left the party in January 1990.)

The dominant position soon became one of “avoiding witch hunts,” even if that meant leaving people with blood on their hands in positions of power. More critically, it left the roots of the powerful Russian security apparatus intact, if renamed and with a considerably lower profile for the time being. Yeltsin didn’t want trials and the Russian KGB archives remained off limits. Former officials were given tacit promises of financial security and immunity from prosecution in exchange for facilitating the transfer of power. This same formula was employed by Yeltsin when he hand-picked Vladimir Putin to become his successor in 1999.

Western nations unanimously collaborated with this dubious cover-up. It is remarkable how quickly even many of the most hawkish Cold Warriors were willing to forgive and forget as soon as the USSR ceased to exist. “Witch hunt” implies persecution with false pretenses and/or a lack of evidence. But what if there are plenty of actual witches around, and plenty of evidence of witchcraft? Don’t forget that Lenin’s mausoleum in the middle of Red Square was never removed.

I think the sense of jubilation overwhelmed people on both sides of the Iron Curtain. We could learn about the rest of the world, travel, read newspapers that were actually interesting. We could talk about politics that actually mattered, and even vote! Few Russians had the appetite for gloomy trials detailing the horrors we knew all too well had occurred in the Soviet Union. This turned out to be a terrible mistake that Russia, and the rest of the world, is still paying for today.

There is no single moment where Russia lost its way and Vladimir Putin, or someone like him, became inevitable. There was no specific turning point in the West’s dealings with Russia marking the shift from confrontation over human rights to engagement. It was a slow and steady process. Time and again, the United States and Europe turned a blind eye to the crimes and misdemeanors of Gorbachev, Yeltsin, and Putin in the hope that everything would work out on its own. US presidents in particular always placed far too much faith in individuals in Russia, instead of supporting the structural and institutional reforms that could have guaranteed the survival of democracy.

The West’s acceptance of authoritarianism in the former USSR actually began before the “former” had been firmly appended. In 1988, Ronald Reagan’s devout belief in the moral superiority of individual freedom and the free market was replaced by the cautious pragmatism of George H. W. Bush. By early 1991, Gorbachev was losing control of his timid reform program as the winds of change blew in hard from Eastern Europe. Bush did his best to support Gorbachev’s efforts to hold the USSR together, delivering his infamous “Chicken Kyiv” speech on August 1, 1991, where he enraged many Ukrainians by warning them against pushing too hard for independence from the USSR.

Gorbachev’s desperate attempts to preserve socialism and the Soviet Union eventually failed utterly, turning him into an accidental hero in the West. I won’t even give him the minimal credit some offer for not sending in the proverbial tanks to crush the anti-Communist uprisings that were taking place all across the Soviet Bloc, especially since Gorbachev did send in military to Latvia and Lithuania, where he believed he could get away with it. He was hardly a risk taker where his own neck was concerned and didn’t want to end up like Romanian Communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu, whose rapid overthrow and execution in December 1989 was still fresh in everyone’s mind.

When I spoke in the European Parliament in September 1991, I compared Gorbachev to Louis XVI, who also recalled parliament and declined to use force against the revolutionaries in the hopes they would spare his life. In that regard Gorbachev had better luck than Louis, despite having a roughly similar approval rating with his own people. There are also similarities with the last Russian tsar, Nicholas II, who likewise attempted to stave off revolution and maintain his autocracy via shallow reforms. He convoked a parliament, issued a constitution, and still ended in misery. (I cannot resist pointing out that Gorbachev, Nicholas II, and Louis XVI also all had intelligent, influential, and unpopular wives: Raisa, Alexandra, and Marie Antoinette. Raisa was certainly aware of the violent fate met by the others, and I imagine she encouraged her husband to avoid the use of force in order to increase their chances of escaping with their skins, and her furs, intact.)

Boris Yeltsin, in contrast, was a true populist at heart despite being a career party official. He backed up his faith in the people with action and with ambitious political reforms. Internationally speaking he had a weak hand and he knew it, compensating by alternating between bluster and charm with foreign leaders. Yeltsin managed to preserve a regional sphere of interest despite the terrible weakness of Russia on the world stage during the 1990s. That he succeeded in doing this is to his credit—and to the immense discredit of Bill Clinton and the other G7 leaders who allowed it to happen.

The 1990s were a series of huge missed opportunities for the global forces of democracy. The economic, military, and moral might were all on one side more so than at any time in history. Instead of pressing this advantage by, for example, reforming the United Nations with a robust new human rights framework, the advantage was squandered. The United States and its European allies had the capability and the leverage to exert tremendous pressure for positive reforms—capability they exercised effectively to win the Cold War. Instead, as soon as the Berlin Wall fell they switched to relying almost exclusively on incentives and engagement, which were quite effective in Eastern Europe but failed against determined autocrats like Vladimir Putin.

Every time Putin cracked down in Russia, or even when he interfered with neighboring nations, the West had the opportunity to push back. Instead, at every turn Putin was rewarded with even closer ties to the world’s leading democracies and, more importantly, with greater access to their lucrative markets. It is impossible, of course, to say with certainty that Putin’s course toward dictatorship would have been altered or prevented by a strong stand by the free world. But I believe it to be so.

Putin is not an ideologue. He and his cronies accumulated tremendous wealth, and the threat of not being able to enjoy it freely in the West would have been a very serious threat. Unlike their Soviet predecessors, Putin and his allies are not content with a late-model ZIL limousine and a nice dacha on the Black Sea. They want to rule like Josef Stalin but live like Roman Abramovich, the close Putin buddy who spent his riches buying a famous English soccer team and yachts the size of soccer fields. Putin’s oligarchs travel the world and keep their wealth abroad, and this gives Western governments real clout if they have the courage to use it.

That was even more the case early in Putin’s first term, when he was still testing what he could get away with. Like any born autocrat, Putin respects only power. He takes a step, looks around, sniffs the air, and then, if there are no negative consequences, he takes another step. With each advance, he gains more confidence and becomes harder to stop. Muted expressions of concern from diplomats and foreign ministers are the greenest of lights to someone like Putin. Such chatter is in fact designed to be meaningless in his interpretation. After all, if the United States were truly concerned it would do something instead of just talking about it while doing nothing.

The appeasers’ motives range from ill-advised optimism about Putin’s true nature to cynical political careerism that sees a belligerent and energy-rich Russia as too difficult a problem to deal with. It was easier for many Western leaders to pretend there wasn’t a problem in Russia than to admit it would be difficult or impossible to solve it. Then there’s a separate category for those leaders like Silvio Berlusconi and Gerhardt Schroder, men for whom cooperating with Putin was literally business as usual.

Despite the attempt to rebrand the method as “engagement,” the smell of appeasement is impossible to mask. The fundamental lesson of Chamberlain and Daladier going to see Hitler in Munich in 1938 is valid today: giving a dictator what he wants never stops him from wanting more; it convinces him you aren’t strong enough to stop him from taking what he wants. Otherwise, goes the dictator’s thought process, you would stand up to him from the start.

The warning signs about Putin’s nature and intent were plentiful. His rise to power was aided by his brutal response to the 1999 apartment bombings, terrorist acts that many still suspect to have been a Reichstag-style provocation. (But unlike the Reichstag, there was actual blood spilled.) Carpet-bombing and torture of civilians across Chechnya were presented as part of the global war on terror, which was a complete fabrication. Later, Putin’s contempt for the value of human life was confirmed in two hostage situations, the first in 2002 when federal troops using a still-unspecified gas killed many dozens of hostages in the Nord-Ost theater standoff in Moscow. The second came in 2004, when security forces using military weapons demolished a school full of child hostages in Beslan, resulting in the deaths of hundreds.

The Kremlin’s rapid subjugation of the Russian press was, along with a rise in oil prices of over 700 percent by 2008, the biggest reason behind the perceived success of the regime of Vladimir Putin. Very early on in his first term as president, Putin learned that control of the Fourth Estate was essential to controlling the other three. The lesson stemmed from the public outcry over the botched rescue of the crew of the Kursk nuclear submarine, which sank after an explosion during a training exercise in the Barents Sea in August 2000. Instead of taking names in the military or cleaning out our Augean bureaucracy, Putin went after the free press.

Media outlets were taken over by forces friendly to Putin and his closest associates. The owner of NTV, Vladimir Gusinsky, spent three days in jail in June 2000 and was forced to give up his company. In fact, in what would become a typical “negotiating method” of the day, he was forced to sign over his company before being allowed to leave jail. He fled to Israel while his channel was appropriated and absorbed into the Kremlin’s portfolio in April 2001, and today, ironically, NTV is probably the dirtiest of the official propaganda stations against some very tough competition in that field. This “soft censorship” was accompanied by the more conventional kind, with its lists of non grata names and verboten topics. Media power was centralized in the same fashion as political power, and with the same purpose: looting the country without causing a popular revolt.

The corruption of the Yeltsin era is burned into Russia’s collective memory only because we learned about it in the press at the time. In the 1990s, the competing oligarchs waged war against one another in their media outlets. It was not a fight fought fairly or decently, but a preponderance of facts came to light and thousands of honest journalists worked to bring the truth to the Russian public. Under Putin, the only light came from the endless stream of glowing articles about him and his administration.

In the typical pattern, the Western response to these bold steps toward despotism was limited to press releases expressing concern while business went on as usual. Putin was welcomed as a full member of the G7, which is supposed to represent great industrial democracies. For those who excuse the invitation due to Russia’s size and influence, note that China is not a member. Russia’s inclusion was a reward for democratic reforms and it should have been rescinded as soon as Putin rolled back those reforms. It says a great deal that Russia’s membership was not revoked until Putin invaded Ukraine and annexed Crimea in March 2014.

Putin’s strong opportunistic instincts led him to make perhaps the most important phone call of his life on September 11, 2001. He was the first foreign leader to call President George W. Bush and offer full support after the terror attacks. By so doing he earned the sympathetic Bush’s trust and the benefit of the doubt for seven long years. (This must have changed when Russia invaded Georgia in 2008, but that itself was a reflection of how much Putin had grown in ambition and confidence during Bush’s term.) Putin succeeded in portraying Russia as a US ally—in Afghanistan in particular—while actively working against US and European interests elsewhere.

Bush 43’s ability to stand up to Putin’s many transgressions was further constrained by a chance comment several months earlier when the two men first met, in Slovenia on June 16, 2001. It was after that meeting that Bush uttered this famous evaluation: “I looked the man in the eye. I found him to be very straightforward and trustworthy and we had a very good dialogue. I was able to get a sense of his soul.” After that comment, Bush couldn’t take Putin to task without admitting a serious misjudgment of his character; and admitting mistakes was never Bush’s strongest suit. To be fair, Bush and the United States had a new set of top priorities after 9/11. But it is still a little surprising in hindsight that an administration with experienced Cold Warriors like Cheney, Rumsfeld, and Soviet/Russia expert Condoleezza Rice completely failed to put any pressure on Putin.

As the saying goes, however, as bad as things get they can always get worse. Barack Obama came into office with hardly any foreign policy experience and saddled with overwhelming domestic challenges. He also had a clear mandate from an American people burned out on long unpopular engagements in Afghanistan and Iraq: fix America and leave the rest of the world alone. There was little chance that Obama, the idealistic newcomer, would challenge Putin in any meaningful way despite adding the Orange Revolution-savvy Mike McFaul to his foreign policy team.

What happened was still much worse than I expected. The Obama administration trotted out its reset plan, complete with Hillary Clinton’s inaccurate button. Imagine the message this warm overture sent to Vladimir Putin. (Technically, the recipient of the message was Dmitry Medvedev, but let’s not trifle with such absurd pretenses.) If Putin occasionally seems incredulous at the relatively robust international response to his 2014 invasion of Ukraine, perhaps it’s because he is simply waiting for his next reset button.

In her 2014 memoir, Hillary Clinton goes to great lengths to defend the Reset and to explain that she was never taken in by Putin. Ironically, this post-facto position follows the same pattern as the memoirs of her political adversaries: George W. Bush, Condoleezza Rice, Dick Cheney, and Donald Rumsfeld. With near unanimity, often with very similar phrasing, they all say they knew Putin was a bad guy, but they had no choice but to do business with him. (Bush 43 is the most forthcoming about the possibility he had misjudged Putin, as I’ll discuss later.)

As someone who has been yelling from every rooftop and op-ed page about Putin’s nature and ambitions for over a decade, the sight of so many powerful US politicians agreeing with me as soon as they are out of office is infuriating. Their books give no space at all to what they might have done differently to influence Putin’s behavior while they had the power to do so. The idea that the United States might have threatened to isolate Putin, to cut him and his billionaire cronies off, to use the stick after he had eaten all their carrots, never comes up.

When the US government finally did take limited steps to respond to the Putin regime’s many abuses, it came only after Putin had achieved total power in Russia and a sense of complete impunity. And the move didn’t even come from inside the administration. The Magnitsky Act legislation that levied asset and travel sanctions on some Russian officials for human rights abuses was championed by American-British investor Bill Browder. One of his Russian investment group’s lawyers, Sergei Magnitsky, was arrested in 2008 by the same corrupt law enforcement officials whose massive fraud he had exposed. A year later he died in pretrial detention after being beaten and failing to receive adequate medical attention.

The Magnitsky legislation was Browder’s retaliation in a way, and at first the Russian officials on the list were only a few who were directly related to Magnitsky’s persecution and death. It’s notable that the Obama administration fought against it from the start, and it was only signed into law as part of a House bill that also normalized trade with Russia, which had previously been restricted in some ways by the famous 1974 Jackson-Vanik amendment.

The Obama administration followed Europe’s embarrassingly cautious lead in applying sanctions against Russia and to Putin’s allies in the wake of Russia’s 2014 invasion of Ukraine. Despite the overwhelming and bipartisan congressional support for doing more-arming and training Ukraine’s military in particular—Obama continued to echo Merkel, Hollande, and other European leaders talking about “finding a peaceful solution” when there was already a war in progress. They insisted on referring to Putin as someone who would negotiate in good faith, even after he triumphantly admitted in March 2015 that he had been lying about the presence of the Russian military in taking Crimea a year earlier.

I do not believe that Merkel and Obama are so oblivious, especially Merkel, who was born in the Communist German Democratic Republic. So the only explanation is that they still find the Putin problem so politically thorny that it’s easier to pretend there isn’t one. And it may even be true, for them personally, for a while. Perhaps they only wish to postpone total catastrophe until they are safely out of office and can leave Putin to their successors. In any case, it is a moral capitulation that has produced very real costs.