Boris Kagarlitsky: The ordinary Russian citizen and the question of power
[Editor’s note: In this new article sent from the penal colony where he is currently serving a 5-year sentence for “justification of terrorism,” Boris Kagarlitsky analyses the relationship between ordinary Russian citizens (men and women) and the state. His analysis offers an explanation for the lack of active domestic opposition to the current aggressive course of the Russian state — a situation further exacerbated by harsh repressive measures against dissidents, as Kagarlitsky’s own case demonstrates.]
First published in Russian at Rabkor. Translated by Dmitry Pozhidaev for LINKS International Journal of Socialist Renewal.
Several years ago, back in peaceful times, I had the opportunity to analyse a focus group conducted in a small provincial town. Throughout the discussion, everyone cursed the authorities with harsh words. But when asked how they would vote, everyone unanimously replied: “Of course, for ‘United Russia’.” This naturally astonished the moderator. Yet, the participants’ position was logical in its own way. They simply understood elections very differently from how they are described in political theory. We naively thought that elections are held to form (and change) the government. But here we discovered that, for them, the meaning was completely different. Through the election procedure, authorities test the loyalty of citizens. And if they vote incorrectly, they will be punished. However, people are clever and do not fall for provocations, so they vote the way they should. In general, election day is something like a national exam that is arranged for the entire adult population every few years. In 2011, the exam almost failed, but somehow it worked out. Although there were still a few “failing students,” such as those in Khabarovsk, who were punished accordingly.
Such an attitude towards power may seem somewhat exotic. But this does not seem to occur very often in other exotic countries. I asked a colleague from the Institute of Latin America about indigenous peoples there. How do they perceive power? Alas, there is nothing like the attitude toward the state typical of Russia. Since the time of the conquistadors, indigenous people have viewed the state as an alien hostile force and, whenever possible, turned their backs on it. In contrast, in our country, the state is perceived as an objective force, something akin to a natural phenomenon. Do you like a cold climate? A hailstorm that ruined your crops? A thunderstorm that burned down your barn? Of course not. We get very upset. But that is no reason to protest!
With such a view of things, any attempt to meaningfully engage in politics seems, at best, strange, and at worst, madness. And it does not matter whether it is pro-government or opposition politics. Any conscious action is equally senseless and absurd, whether one supports the government or opposes it (after all, you would not try to hasten the arrival of summer — it will come without your help). You can solve personal problems: make a career in administration; sell umbrellas in autumn or T-shirts in summer, taking advantage of favourable weather conditions.
From the perspective of political science, it seems absurd when officials say: “If you do not like our government, go live in another country.” But the ordinary citizen completely agrees with such a statement. They will not even argue that things are better in another country. Well, of course! After all, if you do not like harsh winters, you can move to a country with a milder climate, right? Everything is logical.
The peculiarity of the ordinary citizen’s understanding of power is not that protesting is pointless or that changing leadership is impossible. That is not the main point. Moreover, personal experience confirms that power and government sometimes change. Although, for some reason, it usually changes for the worse, without our involvement, and for reasons beyond human comprehension. The main issue is that power cannot be improved. It cannot be positively influenced in any way. Revolutions and coups happen on their own, but imagining constructive reforms — especially with societal support — is impossible. One’s imagination just is not enough for that. It is easier to envision the apocalypse.
In this regard, the illusions of the common Russian citizen and the Western citizen are diametrically opposed. A European or United States citizen will proudly remind you that they are a voter and taxpayer, and therefore power depends on them; after all, they appoint and change it when necessary. It is clear that reality constantly disproves such views. In most cases, only the faces on TV change. And if you really want to change something, it is not enough to drop a ballot into a box every few years with the name of your favourite party.
Since the ordinary Russian citizen is completely free from such democratic illusions, they feel very smart, sober, and worldly-wise. However, while reconciling themselves with the state as a natural, uncontrollable and incomprehensible force, they do not feel alienated from it. Power is very much “their own,” and one should definitely ask it for something. It probably will not give you anything, but it is still worth hoping. Here, everything works strictly according to the fairy tale Morozko (Grandpa Frost). As we know, Grandpa Frost, unlike the modern New Year character, mostly copied from the Anglo-American Santa Claus, harshly punishes any expression of dissatisfaction with the cold he creates, but may reward submission and patience.* Since submission is well-developed here, one can hope for a reward. If it does not come, the problem lies in ourselves (we were not noticed or appreciated). This is why such strange forms of protest have spread in Russia — hunger strikes and even threats of collective suicide. Strangely enough, this works. Officials, who do not pay much attention to the “subordinate population,” begin to notice it if people show a readiness to jump from the roof or destroy themselves through other available means. A mass protest by ordinary Russian citizens, if it were even possible, would take the form of a nationwide suicide.
“Is it really that bad?” the reader might ask. But why do you think things are bad? After all, if a progressive government suddenly came to power, the ordinary citizen would submit to it just as meekly as to a reactionary one. It is just that the weather has changed to something more pleasant.
Fortunately, the ordinary citizen described here is not the entirety of Russia’s population. And not even the majority. It is quite possible that a change in the political climate will lead to the development of a new consciousness. But for each individual case, there is a simple and concrete answer: stop being an ordinary citizen and start acting.
In other words, become a citizen not just in name, but in essence.
- *
Kagarlitsky is referring to the Russian fairy tale Morozko, where Grandpa Frost tests two girls with increasingly bitter cold. The one who endures the test is lavishly rewarded (and happily marries), while the one who complains about the cold is harshly punished.
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