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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How “cli-fi” novels humanise the science of climate change

The paradox is that the harder climate-fiction novels try, the less effective they are.

When the Paris UN Climate Change Conference begins at the end of November, the world’s leaders will review the climate framework agreed in Rio in 1992. For well over 20 years, the world has not just been thinking and talking about climate change, it has also been writing and reading about it, in blogs, newspapers, magazines – and in novels.

Climate change fiction is now a recognisable literary phenomenon replete with its own nickname: “cli-fi”. The term was coined in 2007 by Taiwan-based blogger Dan Bloom. Since then, its use has spread: it was even tweeted by Margaret Atwood in 2013:

It is not a genre in the accepted scholarly sense, since it lacks the plot formulas or stylistic conventions that tend to define genres (such as science fiction or the western). However, it does name a remarkable recent literary and publishing trend.

A 21st-century phenomenon?

Putting a number to this phenomenon depends, partly, on how one defines cli-fi. How much of a novel has to be devoted to climate change before it is considered cli-fi? Should we restrict the term to novels about man-made global warming? (If we don’t, we should remember that narratives about global climatic change are as old as The Epic of Gilgamesh and the Biblical story of the flood.) If we define cli-fi as fictional treatments of climate change caused by human activity in terms of setting, theme or plot – and accept there will be grey areas in the extent of this treatment – a conservative estimate would put the all-time number of cli-fi novels at 150 and growing. This is the figure put forward by Adam Trexler, who has worked with me to survey the development of cli-fi.

This definition also gives us a start date for cli-fi’s history. While planetary climatic change occurs in much 20th-century science fiction, it is only after growing scientific awareness of specifically man-made, carbon-induced climate change in the 1960s and 1970s that novels on this subject emerged. The first is Arthur Herzog’s Heat in 1976, followed by George Turner’s The Sun and the Summer (published in the US as Drowning Towers) in 1987.

At the turn of this century, Maggie Gee and TC Boyle were among the first mainstream authors to publish climate change novels. In this century, we can count Atwood, Michael Crichton, Barbara Kingsolver, Ian McEwan, Kim Stanley Robinson, Ilija Trojanow and Jeanette Winterson as major authors who have written about climate change. The past five years have given us notable examples of cli-fi by emerging authors, such as Steven Amsterdam, Edan Lepucki, Jane Rawson, Nathaniel Rich and Antti Tuomainen.

Creative challenges

Cli-fi is all the more noteworthy considering the creative challenge posed by climate change. First, there is the problem of scale – spatial and temporal. Climate change affects the entire planet and all its species – and concerns the end of this planet as we know it. Novels, by contrast, conventionally concern the actions of individual protagonists and/or, sometimes, small communities.

Added to this is the networked nature of climate change: in physical terms, the climate is a large, complex system whose effects are difficult to model. In socio-cultural terms, solutions require intergovernmental agreement – just what COP21 intends – and various top-down and bottom-up transformations. Finally, there exists the difficulty of translating scientific information, with all its predictive uncertainty, into something both accurate and interesting to the average reader.

Still, cli-fi writers have adopted a range of strategies to engage their readers. Many cli-fi novels could be classified as dystopian, post-apocalyptic or, indeed, both – depicting nightmarish societies triggered by sometimes catastrophic climate events. A future world is one effective way of narrating the planetary condition of climate change.

Some novelists are also careful to underpin their scenarios with rigorous climatic predictions and, in this way, translate science fact into a fictional setting. Kingsolver, who trained as an ecologist, is the best example of this – and Atwood and Robinson are also known for their attempts at making their speculations scientifically plausible. Also, cli-fi novels, particularly those set in the present day or very near future rather than in a dystopian future, tend to show the political or psychological dimensions of living with climate change. Readers can identify with protagonists. To some extent, the global community is represented in fictional everymen or everywomen. Or, often, it is through such characters that science is humanised and its role in combating climate change better understood.

Can cli-fi lead to change?

Could cli-fi affect how we think and act on climate change? The paradox is that the harder cli-fi tries, the less effective it is. Many writers want to inspire change, not insist on it: the line between literature and propaganda is one that most novelists respect. Literature invites us to inhabit other worlds and live other lives. Cli-fi at its best lets us travel to climate-changed worlds, to strive there alongside others and then to return armed with that experience.

In Paris, the UN will seek a global agreement on climate action for the first time in more than 20 years. There is plenty of climate change fiction out there to help provide the mental and psychological space to consider that action.

The Conversation

Adeline Johns-Putra, Reader in English Literature, University of Surrey

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.