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isachar wrote:Sweejack, nice intermission. Probably deserves it own thread. I remember researching this as best as I could in the pre-internet days and discovering the shoot down was not what the Reagun-auts said it was.
The point is that Russia’s democratic development is a kind of test case, an artificial laboratory experiment. And as with any experiment of this kind, you never know how it will turn out.
Relatively recently, a well-known American journalist—the same woman, in fact, who famously asked “Who is Mr. Putin?”—told me about a frank conversation she had with Vladislav Surkov at the very beginning of the Putin administration. The gist of it was as follows: First we will establish the “power vertical,” and then we will, of our own accord and under our own control, start to expand the limits of pluralism, and gradually create a responsible opposition to ourselves.
In essence, everything that has happened to the political system over the last decade fits into this strategy. Broadly speaking, first NTV television—whose show Kukly made fun of presidents Yeltsin and Putin—was appropriated, and then a Kremlin-friendly political expert was appointed to host an analytical program using puppets, including one of the president, who is mocked, sometimes mercilessly. In other words, on one hand the president is a genuine target for irony and comedy, but on the other, everything is under control.
Or, again, first they created a party of power, United Russia, headed by the speaker of the State Duma, and later undertook the formation—“for balance”—of another, headed by the speaker of the Federation Council. And everything turns out kind of rational and logical: Both are guaranteed places in parliament, so here is your normal, stable, Western-style two-party system, in which the parties appear to compete for power, while in fact there are no fundamental differences between them.
... I have always asked myself—how else could we do it?
... As a result, the laboratory experiment goes its own way, while citizens increasingly prefer to deal with their problems not using representative bodies but by means of direct action, be they pensioners, drivers, milkmen, or residents of Kondopoga.
In conditions of a crisis of trust in democratic institutions, it is not important how many parties we have or the percentage of the vote they need to get into the Duma. What is important is to work so that citizens see democracy as an effective instrument to solve their problems, and not just a game being played by the bosses.
Surkov: When the Soviet Union was dissolved, most of us didn't even have the feeling that the country was falling apart. We thought we would continue with our lives as in the past, but as good neighbors. Of course, we also believed that the West loved us and would help us, and that we'd be living like the Europeans in ten years. But everything turned out to be more complicated.
SPIEGEL: Because the West didn't love you after all?
Surkov: No. The West doesn't have to love us. In fact, we should ask ourselves more often why people are so suspicious of us. After all, the West isn't a charity organization. How have we been perceived for centuries? As a huge, warlike realm ruled by despots -- first by the czars and then Bolsheviks. Why should anyone have loved us? If we want to be accepted, we have to do something in return. And it's an art that we have yet to master.
... Surkov: Our average bureaucrat has an archaic understanding of the technology of power. He imagines it as a vertical line with a telephone at the top and a telephone at the bottom, and that's how the country is governed.
... Surkov: Those were not revolutions. The revolutions in those countries took place in the nineties, as in Russia, and they brought about fundamental changes in social structures. Since then, they have had market economies, multiparty systems, free elections and freedom of the press.
SPIEGEL: Then let's call them uprisings against the ruling system. Does this worry you?
Surkov: ... We realize, of course, that these events have made an impression on many local politicians in Russia -- and on various foreign non-governmental organizations that would like to see the scenario repeated in Russia. We understand this. By now there are even technologies for overthrowing governments and schools where one can learn the trade, so to speak.
I was poisoned and Russia’s political enemies were surely behind it
By Yegor Gaidar
Published: December 6 2006 19:35 | Last updated: December 6 2006 19:35
On November 24, I found myself involved in a succession of events that resembled a political thriller. A lot has been written about what happened. International television provided detailed coverage of these events. I had not thought that global fame would find me in such an unusual way. I deliberately refused to give interviews. Nevertheless, I am compelled to tell what happened.
Public opinion reserves a degree of humour for those who have survived attempted murder. The nature of this phenomenon is not clear to me. Having been in this situation myself, I found nothing funny about it. But the logic of public consciousness is a fact of life. One has to reckon with it. I will try to keep my sense of humour while telling what happened.
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On November 21, I felt exhausted. Over the previous three weeks, several difficult business trips added to my usual workload. I considered cancelling my trip to Ireland and resting. However, Ireland is a wonderful country, which I love. And the trip was easy: a university research conference and presentation of my book Death of the Empire: Lessons for Modern Russia was one of its subjects. I decided I would not cancel the trip.
Next morning, after my arrival in Dublin, I was walking with a conference organiser, foreign literature library director Yekaterina Geniyeva, when I decided that I had made the right decision. Spending two days with smart and nice people in a lovely old Irish university is both a rest and a pleasure.
Before the conference opening, I had breakfast in the university canteen. I had a fruit salad and asked for a cup of tea. Then I went to the conference hall. About 10 minutes after the session started I realised that I was unable to hear anything. My only thought was how to get back to my hotel room and lie down. I apologised to my colleagues who were presenting the next session, said I felt unwell and had to go back upstairs. Ms Geniyeva looked at me perplexed; 40 minutes earlier we had been having a cheerful chat while walking along university lawns. She probably decided that I was not interested in the subject.
After I got back to my room, I had to close my eyes immediately. The sensation was similar to being under general anaesthesia. You can see and understand things, but it is hard to open your eyes. Reaching for a ringing telephone takes too much effort. I assumed this dusky state was a result of fatigue. I decided that I needed to deliver my lectures and return to Moscow immediately.
I forced myself to deliver my presentation on Russian migration policy at 2.30pm. As soon as I finished my speech, my eyes began to close, fatigue took over and I returned to my room as quickly as I could.
The phone call that apparently saved my life came at 5.10pm. A representative of the organisers reminded me that my book presentation was in five minutes. Would I be taking part? I considered saying no. Had I done so, and had I been alone in my room 15 minutes later, my chances of survival would have been zero. But I had come to Ireland to make a presentation on my book; I would not let some minor ailment get in the way. I stood up, went downstairs and began to speak.
Ten minutes into my speech, I realised I could not continue talking. I apologised to the audience and walked towards the exit. After I crossed the threshold of the conference hall, I collapsed in the university hallway.
I can remember very little about the events of the following several hours. Those who tended to me as I lay on the floor found me bleeding from the nose, with blood and vomit flowing from my mouth. I was pale, unconscious. It appeared as though I was dying.
Within 30 minutes, I started to come around. I tried unsuccessfully to raise my head. An ambulance arrived and I was loaded in to it. All I could do was open and close my eyes and I watched with intense interest the recording of my own cardiogram. The cardiogram is a chart and charts are what I work with. Apparently, professional interest prevails even when the nervous system is damaged.
Once in the hospital, as soon as I regained the ability to think, my own hypothesis was simple: fatigue, combined with maladies often found with men in their 50s: increased sugar level, blood pressure. But my test results bemused the doctors. My heart was working like a clock; blood pressure was high, but only slightly higher than the norm; the same for sugar levels. Meanwhile, the patient was clearly in an extremely grave condition. A stroke was a possibility. I could still not move my hands or feet. But the ability to control my body came back quickly in the following hours. By 7 o’clock the next morning, not only could I stand up from my bed, but I could take a shower and shave. I am not a doctor, but I knew that stroke states are different. It must have been something else.
At 8am, a few hours after I stopped feeling like an inanimate object, I could move, think, make decisions and implement them just as I could 24 hours before. Despite the protests of the Irish doctors, I said that I wanted to leave the hospital immediately. They told me that they had no right to forbid me. But they explained that my case puzzled them. A comparison of test results and my state of health during the late hours of November 24 and early the next day did not tally in any way. They told me that I needed a thorough examination and in-depth analysis. I thanked them for their help and explained that it was easier to take this analysis in Russia, where the doctors had been supervising me for many years and knew my medical history. I arranged a transfer to the Russian embassy, then took a flight to Moscow.
I am not a doctor and realise the limits of unprofessional judgments. Nevertheless, when your life is at stake, it is hard to avoid attempting to understand what happened. My heart, brain, blood pressure, sugar level were either good or without abnormalities. Despite this, I suffered several hours of unconsciousness or semiconsciousness, an inability to control my body, and heavy bleeding from my nose and throat. One of the possible explanations that an unprofessional mind inevitably comes up with in such a situation is poisoning. I remember my state before breakfast very well. It was excellent. Half an hour later it was awful. However, this is an unprofessional view. I suppose that there are pathologies known to medicine that can cause such developments.
Straight from Moscow’s Sheremetyevo airport, I headed for the clinic where they have known me for many years. Despite the fact that I landed late at night on a Sunday, the chief doctor convened specialists. I told them what happened and asked them to consider all scenarios that could explain these phenomena. By Monday morning, he had the results of the tests on his desk. One month before the Irish incident I had had a thorough medical check-up. Now we could compare the old and the current pictures. The doctor was unable to explain such large-scale and systemic changes in the body in terms of anything related to intoxication, within the possible range of illnesses known to medicine, nor any of their most exotic combinations. For reasons of professional ethics he could not use the word “poisoning”. A particular poisonous substance should be determined in order to do that. This is impossible 60 hours after the accident, especially if we are talking about secret toxic substances, the information on which is unavailable to open medical science. But we understand each other well. One may blame anybody, even the aliens. If we stay within the framework of common sense, it is poisoning we think of.
When the thought that this could be a result of somebody’s wilful actions crossed my mind for the first time on the afternoon of November 25, I started thinking about who could have orchestrated it. Who would gain from it? I do not have any property to speak of. Neither do I have a profitable metal or oil company, so there is nothing to take away. So, if this was attempted murder, politics was behind it. I have participated in Russian politics for many years now and I know quite a bit about it. I know its main figures well. By then I realised that my survival was a miracle. The fast rate of recuperation showed that the attempt did not aim at mutilation or injury, but murder. Who of the Russian political circle needed my death on the 24th of November 2006, in Dublin? I rejected the idea of complicity of the Russian leadership almost immediately. After the death of Alexander Litvinenko on November 23 in London, another violent death of a famous Russian on the following day is the last thing that the Russian authorities would want. In case of an explosion or skirmish in Moscow, one would think about radical nationalistic thugs first of all. But Dublin? Poisoning? This is obviously not their style.
Most likely that means that some obvious or hidden adversaries of the Russian authorities stand behind the scenes of this event, those who are interested in further radical deterioration of relations between Russia and the west. Within several hours, comparing the dates of events that took place during the past six weeks, I formulated a rather logical and consistent hypothesis on the reasons behind this. The world view regains its intrinsic logic and ceases resembling a Kafkaesque nightmare. Still, it does not look any more enjoyable. Well, as they say in Russia, as long as we are alive, we might even be happy some day, but that is a different story.
The writer, former prime minister of the Russian Federation, is director of the Institute for the Economy in Transition. Translation by Veronica Malytska
Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2006
Stephen Curtis, the British managing director of a company that had been the main shareholder in Yukos,
Documents of Group MENATEP, the company controlling 61 per cent of Yukos shares, say that in case of Mikhail Khodorkovsky's death or non-ability 50 per cent of the Group shares that are currently in trust ownership may only go to one of the co-owners of a Gibraltar company who have been earlier appointed by Mr. Khodorkovsky himself. It is not clear if this may be Leonid Nevzlin who has escaped to Israel or somebody else. One thing is for sure is that Lord Jacob Rothschild, the prominent international financier, the head of Britain's Rothschild Family is on the list of those who are to have control over the Yukos assets. The British Family is known for its seriousness and solidity.
The death of Stephen Curtis
... Witnesses heard the helicopter's rotor cut out and pilot Mr Radford reported an unspecified problem to air traffic control. It exploded into flames 29 seconds later. ...
On November 3, 2005 the inquest jury returned a verdict of accidental death, saying the crash was probably caused by the pilot becoming disoriented in bad weather.
Stephen Curtis was a lawyer who set up a breathtakingly vast and complex web of shell companies that became Group Menatep, the parent company of Yukos Oil, Russia's most valuable oil company. The shell game allowed Mikhail Khordokovsky and his cohorts to rob the Russian people of billions of dollars.
Stephen Curtis knew enough to put Khordokovsky away for life. When Khordokovsky was arrested in Russia in 2004 on tax evasion and fraud charges he saw that Curtis was appointed managing director of Group Menatep, the parent company of Yukos. But the criminal investigation had spread outside Russia. Swiss auditors looking at possible money laundering or tax evasion attempts raided two Yukos companies and seized their assets.
In the effort to avoid prosecution Stephen Curtis offered to sing to Britain's National Criminal Intelligence Service. He only managed to meet with NCIS twice before he was killed.
Eric Jenkins, Mr Curtis's uncle, told the inquest that his nephew said he was receiving threatening phone calls and was under surveillance. Mr Jenkins said that two weeks before his death Mr Curtis had said that if anything happened to him, it would not be an accident.
Although there was no evidence of sabotage from the Air Accident Investigation Branch (AAIB) ... the father of the pilot, Dennis Radford, said he thought the possibility of sabotage had not been fully investigated by the AAIB.
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