Five myths about Putin’s foes

They're not leaderless, they're not all middle class and they don't want a revolution.

It’s fashionable to see Russia’s opposition as the Moscow stirrings of a “global middle class” making protest waves from Brasilia to Istanbul. Forget it. Russia’s underground is not what it seems.

Myth 1 – This is a leaderless network

Rather the exact opposite. Russia’s opposition is a one-man show called Alexey Navalny. Politically he is populist, a cross between an Islamophobe and a liberal. But Navalny sells his absolute charisma before his policies. After a decade of faceless Putinist bureaucrats every night on the evening news – his Aryan looks and laugh-out-loud wit have electrified a capital bored without politics.

Navalny understood the initial December 2011 protests were his big chance. Whilst other actors dawdled – he become the movement’s orator. By the end he was its uncontested leader. Ever since Navalny has been so good at shining like a white knight fighting “the bloodsuckers” – the opposition had become the Navalny movement.

However, building proper opposition institutions failed. Online election for the opposition “parliament” flopped. The Kremlin barred their attempts to register a party. Then it frightened away a real funding base. Hamstrung, the opposition fell short in the local elections outside Moscow.

This has turned the opposition into a leader cult. The “other Russia” has pinned all its hopes and all initiative on Navalny himself. Ironically, Putin has only reinforced this. Threatening to jail Navalny has underscored his bravery and built up his legend. Polls show his name recognition and popularity soaring.

Leader cults are tricky things to kill. Mr. Putin is now in awkward position. Throwing the “hero” into a Siberian prison camp will turn him into Russia’s Nelson Mandela. Nor can he leave him ta large nibbling away at his own cult of invincibility.

Navalny’s cult of personality is troublesome for the opposition too – detracting from the hard, necessary task of building a movement like Poland’s Solidarity that could turn people power on Putin.

Myth 2 – They are middle class

Russia now has a huge middle class. But don’t think of all them as supporting radical change. As it stands roughly a third of Russians can be considered middle class – making over $30,000 a year.

But Russians are quick to remind you – being middle class does not make you “independent.” Roughly 50 per cent are state employees. Fear keeps most of them off the streets. In Russia’s enormous outback its doctors, teachers and bureaucrats would never dream of taking to the streets. They know that is a sure fire way to lose your jobs.

So forget the idea of the revolt of the “middle class.” Despite its huge size (up to 40m people) the scale of dissent is still tiny. There are roughly 80,000 hardcore Navalny supporters and no more than 400,000 loosely affiliated ones. Who are the people actually protesting and throwing themselves into the frenzy of online activism?

First, this is a Moscow affair. Almost forty per cent of the opposition leader’s almost 400,000 Twitter followers are in the capital. Not even St. Petersburg scrapes above five per cent. Second, this is something well to do. There is a snobbish tinge and an elitist, clubby feeling to opposition circles. The leading lights of the movement – like their followers – are both richer and better educated than the rest. Russians talk about them as being “intelligentsia” – from a class of professionals, intellectuals and civil servants. Their Britain equivalent would be the London upper middle class with a strong Oxbridge component.

Myth 3 – They are pro-western

Russia’s opposition movement is pro what they call “European values.” That means a free media, free speech, free assembly and visa free travel to the west. They broadly think that Vladimir Putin’s anti-American and anti-British propaganda is hysterical and faintly silly.

Just don’t confuse them for passionate supporters of NATO or the EU. These are no adulators of the west. Navalny and his team increasingly see Europe – especially British elites – as complicit in the “pillage” of Russia as stolen billions find a safe haven in London property, the French Riviera or Austrian banks. Just like Putin supporters they are irritated by European “lecturing” and American “hypocrisy.”

Navalny does not have a NATO worldview. He believes that Russia, Belarus and Ukraine should reunite into one great power. He passionately supports the “independent” South Ossetia and Abkhazia carved out of Georgia. He would even recognize the Russian enclave of Transdinestria in Moldova – something that would horrify Brussels.

Myth 4 – They’ve had no impact

It’s tempting to dismiss the Russian opposition as having had no impact. It’s also not true. They have made Russia much more repressive, xenophobic and homophobic by accident in a Kremlin crackdown.

Navalny’s campaigning has also forced policy action. Putin has started trying to shore up its public support in a frenzies series of policy initiatives – stolen from the opposition. There has been a purge of corrupt officials and billions are about to be invested in bad roads.

This is most evident in Moscow. Navalny is running for Mayor making the Kremlin throw huge wads of cash into public goods neglected for years. Putin’s candidate had stolen opposition battle cries like battling illegal immigration. He has even installed a cycle hire scheme. Before Navalny’s surge it was inconceivable the Moscow authorities would have done something like this – because people wanted it.

Myth 5 - They want a revolution

Not one bit. Russians, even those protesting, are terrified of revolution. What the opposition hopes to achieve is to delegitimize Putin and his cronies – those they accuse of pillaging Russia – amongst the rulers of Russia and their apparatchiks.

The aim is to make Putin a liability. The hope is that the closer we get to the 2016 parliamentary and 2018 presidential elections an ever increasing number of petrol barons, police chiefs and provincial governors will realize repression will cost them their positions. The hope is they will ditch Putin – and install a new leader who could legitimize them before finally hold fair elections. Of course, Mr. Navalny aspires to be that man. 

Ben Judah is the author of Fragile Empire: How Russia Fell In And Out Love With Vladimir Putin. His full article is published by IPPR in their quarterly journal Juncture

Russian opposition leader Alexey Navalny delivers a speech on August 25, 2013 in Moscow during a campaign rally for the Moscow mayoral election. Photograph: Getty Images.

Ben Judah is the author of Fragile Empire: How Russia Fell In And Out Love With Vladimir Putin.

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Andy Burnham and Sadiq Khan are both slippery self-mythologisers – so why do we rate one more than the other?

Their obsessions with their childhoods have both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

Andy Burnham is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s widely seen as an unprincipled flip-flopper.

Sadiq Khan is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s the hugely popular mayor of London, the voice of those who’d be proud to think of themselves as the metropolitan liberal elite, and is even talked of as a possible future leader of the Labour party.

Oh, and also they were both born in 1970. So that’s a thing they have in common, too.

Why it is this approach to politics should have worked so much better for the mayor of London than the would-be mayor of Manchester is something I’ve been trying to work out for a while. There are definite parallels between Burnham’s attempts to present himself as a normal northern bloke who likes normal things like football, and Sadiq’s endless reminders that he’s a sarf London geezer whose dad drove a bus. They’ve both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

And yes, Burnham apparent tendency to switch sides, on everything from NHS privatisation to the 2015 welfare vote to the leadership of Jeremy Corbyn, has given him a reputation for slipperiness. But Sadiq’s core campaign pledge was to freeze London transport fares; everyone said it was nonsense, and true to form it was, and you’d be hard pressed to find an observer who thought this an atypical lapse on the mayor’s part. (Khan, too, has switched sides on the matter of Jeremy Corbyn.)

 And yet, he seems to get away with this, in a way that Burnham doesn’t. His low-level duplicity is factored in, and it’s hard to judge him for it because, well, it’s just what he’s like, isn’t it? For a long time, the Tory leadership’s line on London’s last mayor was “Boris is Boris”, meaning, look, we don’t trust him either, but what you gonna do? Well: Sadiq is Sadiq.

Even the names we refer to them by suggest that one of these two guys is viewed very differently from the other. I’ve instinctively slipped into referring to the mayor of London by his first name: he’s always Sadiq, not Khan, just as his predecessors were Boris and Ken. But, despite Eoin Clarke’s brief attempt to promote his 2015 leadership campaign with a twitter feed called “Labour Andy”, Burnham is still Burnham: formal, not familiar. 

I’ve a few theories to explain all this, though I’ve no idea which is correct. For a while I’ve assumed it’s about sincerity. When Sadiq Khan mentions his dad’s bus for the 257th time in a day, he does it with a wink to the audience, making a crack about the fact he won’t stop going on about it. That way, the message gets through to the punters at home who are only half listening, but the bored lobby hacks who’ve heard this routine two dozen times before feel they’re in the joke.

Burnham, it seems to me, lacks this lightness of touch: when he won’t stop banging on about the fact he grew up in the north, it feels uncomfortably like he means it. And to take yourself seriously in politics is sometimes to invite others to make jokes at your expense.

Then again, perhaps the problem is that Burnham isn’t quite sincere enough. Sadiq Khan genuinely is the son of a bus-driving immigrant: he may keep going on about it, but it is at least true. Burnham’s “just a northern lad” narrative is true, too, but excludes some crucial facts: that he went to Cambridge, and was working in Parliament aged 24. Perhaps that shouldn’t change how we interpret his story; but I fear, nonetheless, it does.

Maybe that’s not it, though: maybe I’m just another London media snob. Because Burnham did grow up at the disadvantaged end of the country, a region where, for too many people, chasing opportunities means leaving. The idea London is a city where the son of a bus driver can become mayor flatters our metropolitan self-image; the idea that a northerner who wants to build a career in politics has to head south at the earliest opportunity does the opposite. 

So if we roll our eyes when Burnham talks about the north, perhaps that reflects badly on us, not him: the opposite of northern chippiness is southern snobbery.

There’s one last possibility for why we may rate Sadiq Khan more highly than Andy Burnham: Sadiq Khan won. We can titter a little at the jokes and the fibs but he is, nonetheless, mayor of London. Andy Burnham is just the bloke who lost two Labour leadership campaigns.

At least – for now. In six weeks time, he’s highly likely to the first mayor of Greater Manchester. Slipperiness is not the worst quality in a mayor; and so much of the job will be about banging the drum for the city, and the region, that Burnham’s tendency to wear his northernness on his sleeve will be a positive boon.

Sadiq Khan’s stature has grown because the fact he became London’s mayor seems to say something, about the kind of city London is and the kind we want it to be. Perhaps, after May, Andy Burnham can do the same for the north – and the north can do the same for Andy Burnham.

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.