Russia’s split personality – symbolized by its Tsarist coat of arms, a two-headed eagle – has been on open display recently. One minute, President Vladimir Putin’s regime is on a charm offensive, desiring a settlement to its six-decade-old territorial dispute with Japan over the Kurile Islands and reassuring investors following the conviction of oil billionaire Mikhail Khodorkovsky. The next moment Putin balks at removing Russia’s military garrison from Moldova’s secessionist Transdniester region while prosecutors talk ominously of putting more oligarchs in the dock.
Perhaps the greatest display of this political schizophrenia took place last month in Red Square, where a witch’s brew of Red “Victory” flags, tri-color “Imperial” flags, Stalin portraits, and Orthodox icons marched side by side during the 60th anniversary celebration marking WWII’s end. Putin took that occasion to repeat his political mantra – “Russia is developing it’s own brand of democracy” – while spurning requests from the Baltic countries that Russia come clean about its deal with Hitler to devour them on WWII’s eve.
This bizarre brew appears to have been concocted in an effort to reconcile the irreconcilable: the current yearning for democracy with Russia’s despotic past. But, like any muddle, it is succeeding only in confusing Russians about themselves and their country. Strangely, Putin seems as trapped by this muddle as everybody else.
At times, Putin truly sees himself as a “modernizer” seeking to root Russia in the West. At other times, like Stalin, he believes that Russia’s power requires a strong hand – what he calls his “dictatorship of law.” The problem, as Khodorkovsky’s conviction demonstrated, is that dictatorship usually seems to be trumping law.
Historically, attempts at modernization in Russia, even when they look real, as with Stalin’s industrialization or Yeltsin’s market reforms, ultimately result in a Potemkin village-like state of affairs, because Russian society cannot change fast enough or with the patience necessary to see the changes through.
So, when Yeltsin’s American-style democratization of the 1990’s failed to bring “orderly” capitalism instantly, Putin on his accession imposed a restoration of state “order,” as if a stable political or economic system demanded a fusing of the Soviet past with the Orthodox Church and Mother Russia imagery.
Project Syndicate is returning to Climate Week NYC with an even more expansive program. Join us live on September 22 as we welcome speakers from around the world at our studio in Manhattan to address critical dimensions of the climate debate.
Register Now
Indeed, Putin’s signature characteristic is to be all men for all Russia’s people. By blending the Soviet past with the Tsarist past and a few shards of Yeltsin-era democracy, Putin seems to think that he can neutralize the extremes of Russian history. Instead, the extremes seem to be squeezing out the desire for modernization.
High oil prices now seem to be the only factor allowing Putin to keep the reform charade going. The nineteenth-century czar Alexander III once said: “Russia has only two true allies – its army and its navy.” Oil is Putin’s army and navy, allowing him to build and maintain the image of a strong, but also an internationalist, state.
Alexander's formula is also popular today with Putin’s nationalists in Moscow and St. Petersburg. In his pro-imperial Russia film “The Barber of Siberia,” the Oscar-winning director Nikita Mikhalkov – whose father composed the Stalin-era national anthem that Putin recently revived – used the coronation of Alexander III as the symbolic centerpiece of Russia’s greatness, inviting Russian leaders to walk in his footsteps.
This strong-willed monarch, while ruling the Russian empire autocratically, managed to bring stability and prosperity, allowing capitalism to take root. He worked to strengthen and modernize Russia’s armed forces while avoiding armed conflict. He became known as “The Peasants’ Tsar,” though he didn’t tolerate any opposition thinking contrary to his own.
Putin sees his own crusade to save Russia from disintegration and separatism as similar to Alexander’s. But how forward-looking is it to model a twenty-first-century country on the absolutist example of the past?
Stalin is yet another cherished role model. Here, too, Putin tries to walk on both sides of the street, calling Koba a tyrant to sooth the wounded feelings the Baltic leaders, yet instantly qualifying his remarks by saying that Stalin was no Hitler. Can we really compare the degree of evil of these two men?
Despite his insistence on rubbing shoulders with world leaders and portraying himself as a modernizer, Putin, like his predecessors, is in fact a ruler who believes that only authoritarian rule can protect his country from anarchy and disintegration. But the old ideas, the mimicry and symbols Putin employs to achieve his goals, no longer correspond to today’s realities or Russia’s present capabilities.
Previously, it was Russia’s Western mission that was pure Potemkin village. Now Russianness itself seems to lack a secure foundation, for it is but a hollow shell of discarded state symbols. Like a bad driver, a nation that looks left and right but never ahead is bound to crash.
To have unlimited access to our content including in-depth commentaries, book reviews, exclusive interviews, PS OnPoint and PS The Big Picture, please subscribe
New research on the importance of cross-border knowledge and technology spillovers suggests that government support alone cannot guarantee success in an industry. That is why Taiwan and South Korea's semiconductor industrial policies succeeded, while China's has not.
demonstrates that while subsidies can help, knowledge and technology transfers are crucial.
To secure a lasting peace, Ukraine’s allies must make Vladimir Putin understand that he cannot dictate the terms. Guaranteeing Ukraine’s security will require increased military support, a clear path to NATO membership, and international support for President Volodymyr Zelensky’s peace plan.
outline steps that global leaders can take to ensure a Ukrainian victory and deter future Russian aggression.
Log in/Register
Please log in or register to continue. Registration is free and requires only your email address.
Russia’s split personality – symbolized by its Tsarist coat of arms, a two-headed eagle – has been on open display recently. One minute, President Vladimir Putin’s regime is on a charm offensive, desiring a settlement to its six-decade-old territorial dispute with Japan over the Kurile Islands and reassuring investors following the conviction of oil billionaire Mikhail Khodorkovsky. The next moment Putin balks at removing Russia’s military garrison from Moldova’s secessionist Transdniester region while prosecutors talk ominously of putting more oligarchs in the dock.
Perhaps the greatest display of this political schizophrenia took place last month in Red Square, where a witch’s brew of Red “Victory” flags, tri-color “Imperial” flags, Stalin portraits, and Orthodox icons marched side by side during the 60th anniversary celebration marking WWII’s end. Putin took that occasion to repeat his political mantra – “Russia is developing it’s own brand of democracy” – while spurning requests from the Baltic countries that Russia come clean about its deal with Hitler to devour them on WWII’s eve.
This bizarre brew appears to have been concocted in an effort to reconcile the irreconcilable: the current yearning for democracy with Russia’s despotic past. But, like any muddle, it is succeeding only in confusing Russians about themselves and their country. Strangely, Putin seems as trapped by this muddle as everybody else.
At times, Putin truly sees himself as a “modernizer” seeking to root Russia in the West. At other times, like Stalin, he believes that Russia’s power requires a strong hand – what he calls his “dictatorship of law.” The problem, as Khodorkovsky’s conviction demonstrated, is that dictatorship usually seems to be trumping law.
Historically, attempts at modernization in Russia, even when they look real, as with Stalin’s industrialization or Yeltsin’s market reforms, ultimately result in a Potemkin village-like state of affairs, because Russian society cannot change fast enough or with the patience necessary to see the changes through.
So, when Yeltsin’s American-style democratization of the 1990’s failed to bring “orderly” capitalism instantly, Putin on his accession imposed a restoration of state “order,” as if a stable political or economic system demanded a fusing of the Soviet past with the Orthodox Church and Mother Russia imagery.
PS Events: Climate Week NYC 2024
Project Syndicate is returning to Climate Week NYC with an even more expansive program. Join us live on September 22 as we welcome speakers from around the world at our studio in Manhattan to address critical dimensions of the climate debate.
Register Now
Indeed, Putin’s signature characteristic is to be all men for all Russia’s people. By blending the Soviet past with the Tsarist past and a few shards of Yeltsin-era democracy, Putin seems to think that he can neutralize the extremes of Russian history. Instead, the extremes seem to be squeezing out the desire for modernization.
High oil prices now seem to be the only factor allowing Putin to keep the reform charade going. The nineteenth-century czar Alexander III once said: “Russia has only two true allies – its army and its navy.” Oil is Putin’s army and navy, allowing him to build and maintain the image of a strong, but also an internationalist, state.
Alexander's formula is also popular today with Putin’s nationalists in Moscow and St. Petersburg. In his pro-imperial Russia film “The Barber of Siberia,” the Oscar-winning director Nikita Mikhalkov – whose father composed the Stalin-era national anthem that Putin recently revived – used the coronation of Alexander III as the symbolic centerpiece of Russia’s greatness, inviting Russian leaders to walk in his footsteps.
This strong-willed monarch, while ruling the Russian empire autocratically, managed to bring stability and prosperity, allowing capitalism to take root. He worked to strengthen and modernize Russia’s armed forces while avoiding armed conflict. He became known as “The Peasants’ Tsar,” though he didn’t tolerate any opposition thinking contrary to his own.
Putin sees his own crusade to save Russia from disintegration and separatism as similar to Alexander’s. But how forward-looking is it to model a twenty-first-century country on the absolutist example of the past?
Stalin is yet another cherished role model. Here, too, Putin tries to walk on both sides of the street, calling Koba a tyrant to sooth the wounded feelings the Baltic leaders, yet instantly qualifying his remarks by saying that Stalin was no Hitler. Can we really compare the degree of evil of these two men?
Despite his insistence on rubbing shoulders with world leaders and portraying himself as a modernizer, Putin, like his predecessors, is in fact a ruler who believes that only authoritarian rule can protect his country from anarchy and disintegration. But the old ideas, the mimicry and symbols Putin employs to achieve his goals, no longer correspond to today’s realities or Russia’s present capabilities.
Previously, it was Russia’s Western mission that was pure Potemkin village. Now Russianness itself seems to lack a secure foundation, for it is but a hollow shell of discarded state symbols. Like a bad driver, a nation that looks left and right but never ahead is bound to crash.