Guide Deep In The Woods

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Table of contents

Where Yeltsin was bombastic and unpredictable, Putin is steady, purposefully dull. Where Yeltsin was a tsar, Putin is chief bureaucrat. So many of the warriors of the late eighties and the nineties have scattered, died, or been discredited.

And some of the contemporary figures who put themselves forward as avatars of democracy were hardly heroic. One night, he went on the air and coyly revealed, by way of humanizing himself, that he had a terrible weakness for clarets of exceptional vintages. To prove it, he took viewers on a tour of his considerable wine cellar. This was not exactly Andrei Sakharov with his net shopping bag and shabby suit.

One afternoon, I dropped by the House of Journalists, on the Boulevard Ring Road, where a group of human-rights activists was holding a conference.

Deep in the Woods – Variety

During a break, I met for coffee with Aleksandr Podrabinek, an old friend who, since , had been publishing an independent newspaper called Ekspress-Khronika , which reported news that the bigger papers and the networks ignored. Podrabinek is a small, almost impish man in his late forties. Now we have someone who has the intellect of an Army sergeant. He gives people simple orders and he obeys simple orders. He has no great vision except the creation of a vertical construct of power.

Putin spent most of his adult life as a K. Even Sakharov once said that, despite the K. People elect bandits as governors knowing they are bandits—in the Far East, for example. Or they elect a K. They vote for those people whose names are most in front of them. As the human-rights movement in Russia has shifted to the margins, its newspapers and conferences are often funded either by Western foundations or not at all.

Podrabinek has not been able to publish the paper for a year. When I asked him about this, he just laughed.

But, remember, it is possible to slide backward a long way, especially if the West does not bother to pay much attention. What we really need, I think, is a new generation of politicians who are willing to say that Russia, just like everyone else, needs a normal democratic system. Until that, maybe we will wander in the desert for forty years. Alexeyeva is in her seventies. Alexeyeva immigrated to the United States in and then came back to live in Moscow in Nearly all of these judges take the Soviet view that the goal of the court is, above all, to protect the interest of the state.

There is little or no thought to the individual. When I suggested that the fall of the Communist state, the popularity of Putin, and a general decline in politics as a Russian obsession had led to the marginalization of the human-rights movement, Alexeyeva disagreed, and gave an indulgent smile. In the old days, the movement was composed of extremely small groups of urban intellectuals gathering secret petitions, furtively meeting with Western visitors, and risking jail at every turn.

Nowadays, it has taken the shape of a loosely knit national Legal Aid Society. In the cities and the provinces, young lawyers with a firm grasp of modern juridical practice and ethics have set up shop in offices and courts. One cloudy afternoon, I drove out of Moscow to the pretty village of Peredelkino. At one point in the sixties, Solzhenitsyn lived with friends here. Along with dozens of other political prisoners, Timofeyev was freed in and became an active figure in the pro-democracy movement.

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In the nineties, he regained his bearings as a scholar, publishing a series of books on the illegal economy and narco-business. He looked younger than he did ten years ago. It happens. We went inside to a screened porch and a table laden with peaches, grapes, wild strawberries, and a bowl of cherries.

Timofeyev was in agreement with his colleagues in the human-rights movement on Chechnya and the assault on the press, but he was far more sanguine than many of the others I met. A cool mist drifted through the screen.

Janel Munoa

And, in this sense, nothing really changed between the Soviet period and now. It changed only in quantity, which became infinitely greater. The shadow economy is a normal market of buying and selling. After all, there used to be prices for everything before: positions in the Communist Party were the assets then, and they were worth something and you paid for them.

Now the fruits of the market are different, but there are no laws or structures to give meaning to a true market economy. The examples are everywhere. He gives fifteen or twenty of these exams a day. This system works, but it is not productive like an open economy. In Russia, it will be impossible to have democratic change that is serious without a developed market economy.

Review: Stefano Lodovichi’s Deep in the Wood

And, in that regard, I think Putin and his team have done more in a year than Yeltsin and his team did in ten years. Yeltsin, of course, laid the groundwork, and he probably needed that time. But Putin has done well. Most important, there is finally a flat income tax of thirteen per cent.

Eye to Eye

Before, hardly anyone paid taxes at all. This is a major advance. There is now a law on land for non-agricultural use, legislation on trial by jury. And there is an over-all tendency to avoid any reactionary economic thinking. No one in this century, at least no one in Russia, except Sakharov, is on his level. The effect was that startling. But when I heard him on television I have to admit that it was clear to me that he is a fact of literary life still, but not really a crucial actor in political or social life.

Nowadays, I can express myself not by quietly identifying myself with a figure like that but by writing, reading, voting, doing business, whatever it is.

This is a good thing. Society needs a Solzhenitsyn in a time of emergency, far less so now. The next afternoon, Natalia Solzhenitsyn picked me up at my hotel in a gray Volvo. I doubt if Aleksandr Isayevich has picked up a ringing telephone in decades. Natalia grew up in Moscow, and knows every street and alley, but her husband is not a real Muscovite; he is from a provincial city, Rostov, and in his work celebrates, even romanticizes at times, the verities of village life.

Their house is in Troitse-Lykovo, a verdant pocket along the Moscow River, a place that only now, with urban sprawl, can be called part of the capital. Then it became once a month. He lives in the woods. The traffic in Moscow has grown horrendous in recent years. It took us three-quarters of an hour to drive the ten miles west to Troitse-Lykovo.

Finally, Natalia turned off the main road and onto a narrow, pitted lane. We passed some small cottages and then pulled up to a tall gate painted forest green. She unlocked the gate and pushed it open. The effect was incredible: we were suddenly looking into a pristine wood. If Natalia had told me that she had airlifted the house in from Aspen or Telluride, I might have believed her. Members of the old Politburo, including the notorious secret police chief Lavrenti Beria, used to live in the area.

In recent years, Solzhenitsyn has had two heart attacks and suffers from intense back pain. He slept with a pitchfork near his bed. Natalia led us to a library, and Solzhenitsyn met us there. He looked much as he had when I first met him, in —the same nineteenth-century beard and furrowed brow, the same safari jacket. But now he walked quite slowly and used a cane; he was more subdued in conversation, more likely to fall back on familiar nostrums.

Every Soviet and Russian leader since Khrushchev has had a Solzhenitsyn strategy. For decades, it was repression; now it is seduction.