The Future Is History: How Totalitarianism Reclaimed Russia

it was a great time to be a young academic in Perm, for reasons that originated in Moscow. In 2008, Putin had handed the presidency to Dmitry Medvedev. Putin had served the two consecutive terms the Russian constitution allowed, and did what authoritarian rulers the world over do in such situations: he ceded the post without ceding the power. Putin became prime minister, and Dmitry Medvedev, a longtime member of his staff, became the country's nominal president. The center of power shifted to the cabinet, now run by Putin. Overnight, the president's office became ceremonial: Medvedev had only a tiny staff and no practical means to wield the power that was granted to him by the constitution. Still, Medvedev's office obliged him to maintain a public presence. "For Vladimir Putin and Dmitry Medvedev, Russian citizens are not voters, but an

audience," Russian journalist Maxim Trudolyubov wrote in 2009. "The big difference between Mr. Putin and Mr. Medvedev is that they work with different audiences." Putin played to the majority: middle- aged and older, middle-income and poorer, the broad audience of the television channels. Medvedev addressed the better-educated, better- off minority that had been largely ignored during Putin's two terms.⁵ Starved for attention, this audience responded to Medvedev's overtures with enthusiasm ranging from cautious to ecstatic. They quickly dubbed the new era "the Thaw."

The term referred to an earlier epoch, the Soviet Union of the late 1950s and early 1960s—the period between Nikita Khrushchev's speech denouncing the cult of Stalin and the Party coup that deposed Khrushchev himself. That had been the time the first fortochka

s opened: some previously banned writing was published and a small degree of open discussion and an even smaller degree of self- organization were allowed. The term "Thaw" now betrayed low expectations: the original Thaw had not brought about fundamental change—it had merely made the system somewhat less brutal. It had also been followed by the Brezhnev freeze, which did not return the terror of Stalinism but which put an end to any civic initiatives and, more important, any hope for change. The term "Thaw" reflected the belief that the Putin system of one-party rule and ever-shrinking space for civil society, media, and protest was entrenched. That made whatever short-term opportunities the new Thaw did present all the more precious.

Perm happened to produce such an opportunity. The capital of an oil-producing region, it had seen its fortunes rise exponentially during the boom of the 2000s. It also had a governor possessed of Western-style ambition. A Putin appointee, Oleg Chirkunov came to politics from the KGB by way of the retail business. He had worked in Switzerland, and his family stayed there even after he became a public official.⁶ He was a quintessential representative of the Medvedev audience: moneyed, Western-oriented, and with a taste for art and culture as Europe understood them. Federal reform undertaken by Putin during his first term deprived Russia's constituent regions not only of much of their political independence but also of their money. A resource-rich region like Perm was handing an ever-increasing share of its tax revenues to Moscow. Quality of life, as a result, dragged far behind regional economic growth. When Garry Kasparov first went on a speaking tour as a politician, this issue—the center's sucking the regions dry—was a major part of his message. But Chirkunov was not looking for a way to confront Putin: he was looking for a way to improve Perm's quality of life and create an alternative source of income without

confrontation with Moscow. When oil prices took a dive in 2007, his search for a solution became urgent. He decided that culture would be Perm's salvation.⁷

Chirkunov's partners in his culture project were two wealthy art lovers from Moscow. One was Sergei Gordeev, who had made a billion or more in Moscow real estate. His passion was contemporary architecture: he had paid generously to preserve Moscow's Constructivist landmarks. Chirkunov appointed Gordeev one of the two senators from Perm. Putin's new system, in which all high-level regional officials were appointed rather than elected, lent itself to these kinds of transactions. Chirkunov could give Gordeev power, at least symbolically, and influence, in exchange for his investment in the Perm project. Gordeev never lived in Perm or even learned much about it: when he visited the city, he stayed at a hotel. One night, four years into his senate term, he spent four hours wandering the city because he could not get his bearings and could not hail a cab either, for all he had in his wallet were five hundred-euro notes.⁸ Still, he promoted Perm faithfully and showed up for high-profile events in the city.