is a
term coined by Dmitri Glinski and me to refer to the policy of using
authoritarian methods to impose quasi-market institutions on Russia. The
application of this policy since 1991 by Presidents Boris Yeltsin and Vladimir
Putin has been accompanied by its necessary political corollary, the
emasculation of democracy. The outcome, as we argue in our new book (Peter
Reddaway and Dmitri Glinski, The Tragedy of Russia’s Reforms: Market
Bolshevism against Democracy, U.S. Institute of Peace Press, Washington,
D.C., 2001), was the emergence by the mid-1990s of a political and economic
order that had little legitimacy in the eyes of most Russians, who felt
alienated from an oligarchically run state.
In the past 11 years, notwithstanding some elements of progress,
the economy has shrunk by about 40 percent (according to many careful estimates)
and operates in a business, legal, and political environment permeated by
corruption and crime. It is not clear if Russia’s GDP will be able to sustain
its recent return to growth. Meanwhile, society is profoundly divided along
class lines, with a small and extremely wealthy elite, a struggling middle class
that was hit hard by the financial crash of 1998, and some three-quarters of the
population—including many well-educated people—trapped in poverty.
Cataclysms Retrospective
Market Bolshevism represents the latest of a series of major
reform programs carried out by Russian governments since the 16th century. These
programs have featured prominently in successive cycles of state repression and
instability. In cases like the programs of Alexander II in the 1860s and 1870s
and Mikhail Gorbachev in the late 1980s, leaders have promoted reforms designed
to take effect at least in part from below. More often, though, as under
Alexander III in the late 19th century, Vladimir Lenin in 1917-21, and Joseph
Stalin in the 1930s, change has been imposed from above. The resulting
alienation of most Russians from the political system eventually led to the
wholesale collapse first of the Tsarist state in 1917, then of the Soviet Union
in 1991.
Tragically enough, both these collapses produced revolutionary
change that was based on a false and simplistic economic determinism. First,
Lenin’s Bolsheviks held that nationalizing the entire economy was the key
policy that would open the door to social justice and prosperity. Then, 74 years
later, Yeltsin’s market Bolsheviks proclaimed that denationalizing most of the
economy overnight was the key to achieving the same goals. In the first case,
democracy was explicitly rejected in favor of a bloody, self-proclaimed
communist dictatorship that killed, imprisoned, or forced to flee abroad at
least 20 million people. In the second, the promising emergence and growth of
democracy in1987-91 was deliberately if surreptitiously halted by Yeltsin—and
then, with his destruction of the popularly elected (though irresponsibly led)
Parliament by tank fire in 1993, reversed.
From that time on, it was clear that Yeltsin’s main goal was
to stay in power at any cost. To that end, he had to keep market Bolshevism as
his central strategy even though it was producing profoundly negative social,
economic, and political consequences. To acknowledge its failure and change
course would have risked the coming to power of opposition groups. Moreover,
market Bolshevism justified authoritarianism. The government claimed, in effect:
"We know better than the people’s representatives what is good for the
people, so we’ll use whatever methods we want."
Creating Capitalism from Scratch
What, then, was the economic medicine that Yeltsin, his key
"shock therapists" Yegor Gaidar and Anatoly Chubais, and the West were
so sure would be therapeutic? Their program had several elements:
Fifth, creating
simultaneously the institutional and legal infrastructure needed by a market
economy: banking and insurance systems, stock exchanges, regulatory bodies to
combat monopolies and fraud, a land register, and so on.
But performing these daunting tasks—creating capitalism almost
from scratch in a few years—was, first and foremost, culturally impossible.
The process had taken two centuries in Western countries. It was also
politically impossible. In 1992 Russia possessed a rudimentary democracy. If
Yeltsin had followed the urgings of Western advisers like Jeffrey Sachs and
Anders Åslund and tried to use "iron political will" to force his
utopian program on Russia wholesale, he would quickly have been impeached and
ousted from power. So he compromised. For eight years he tried to impose his
program piecemeal. This approach enabled some observers to claim that shock
therapy was never seriously tried in Russia.
Politically, Yeltsin’s market Bolshevism required the
subversion of democracy. Because the majority in successive Parliaments opposed
the Kremlin’s economic strategy, Yeltsin often, in effect, ruled by decree.
His team either got around or ignored the rather weak constitutional barriers to
such authoritarianism. They manipulated elections, threatened to dissolve
Parliament again, co-opted members of the opposition by bribing them with
privileges and money, and bought the support of super-wealthy oligarchs by
letting them use endless ingenious schemes to plunder the state treasury. As a
result, by 1998 Yeltsin’s regime and the Russian state had become not just
terribly weak and corrupt, but also—to an alarming extent—financially and
politically dependent on Russia’s wealthy elite and the West.
Daunting Legacy
The economic and social outcome of market Bolshevism was that,
along with a restored supply of goods and most people being able to privatize
their apartments for free, came wildly fluctuating inflation, frequent
nonpayment of wages and pensions, a steady fraying of the social safety net,
widespread impoverishment, a massive brain drain of talented professionals going
abroad, seriously declining demographic and health indicators, plunging
investment, the de-industrialization of much of the economy, a major loss of
research capacity, the stagnation of agriculture, and a growing mountain of debt
to Western creditors.
The West bears much of the responsibility for these outcomes. It
pushed Russia to pursue the inappropriate "one size fits all" strategy
of shock therapy. Moreover, it continued to do so way past the point where the
resulting policies had contributed mightily to the criminalization of the
economy, the corruption of democracy, and the alienation of most Russians from
the state.
This daunting legacy is not, in my view, one that Putin, a
product of the Yeltsin years, really intends to change much. Worse still, even
if he suddenly craved real reform, he would probably just end up confirming his
own apparent suspicion that he is a prisoner of the system. Thus a sustained
improvement in Russia’s plight is not, alas, in sight for the time being.
* * * * *
Now let me make some specific comments on Anders Åslund’s
article.
Åslund has nothing but praise for the effects of the rapid
privatization carried out by his associate Anatoly Chubais (at a time when
Åslund was an official adviser to the Russian government). Thus he ignores
well-documented studies showing that privatization had some deeply negative
effects on the Russian economy and polity. In particular, it resulted in a
rather small number of bankers and businessmen acquiring valuable state assets
at little or no cost and then, as noted, being allowed to plunder the state
treasury in partnership with ministers and bureaucrats. The Kremlin did all this
first because it wanted to buy these people’s political support and second
because some of the top tycoons had skillfully corrupted Yeltsin’s family and
so could pressure the president.
In the process, of course, the Kremlin revealed its contempt for
the rule of law. Moreover, since the authorities were not applying the law to
the rich and powerful, and since they needed the political support of the
bureaucracy as well, they did nothing to stop poorly paid officials from
extracting ever more bribes from ordinary businessmen and citizens. Åslund
rightly deplores this phenomenon but does not consider its root causes. In this
environment occasional weak efforts by the government to create a level playing
field—that is, to establish the rule of law—stood no chance of success. As
the banker and oligarch Aleksandr Smolensky said, "Unfortunately, the only
lawyer in this country is the Kalashnikov."
Another negative effect of Chubais’s privatization that
Åslund does not mention is the fact that most Russian businessmen are, as might
be expected, opposed to market competition. This was made clear at the June 2001
congress of the top Russian association of business leaders—on whose support
Putin relies—when many spoke out against Russia joining the World Trade
Organization, at least for several years.
Åslund also fails to note, in discussing the Kremlin’s
default of August 1998, that in addition to its salutary effects, it generated
some heavy costs. To mention just two, Western confidence in the Russian economy
plummeted and, with the ruble losing three-quarters of its value against the
dollar, foreign travel became out of reach for most Russians unless they had a
foreign sponsor.
Åslund also makes an odd argument that IMF and World Bank loans
of $27 billion to Russia did not constitute aid because the loans had to be
repaid. Clearly, though, the Kremlin saw these low-interest loans with extended
repayment schedules as a highly desirable form of aid, or it would not have
solicited them. The value of this aid is underscored by the fact that at the
time when many of the loans were being made, the government was having to pay
sky-high interest rates on its own treasury bonds—up to150 percent a year.
Åslund is even more puzzling on the question of health care.
Ignoring the findings of the most reputable Russian and Western experts on the
subject, he baldly asserts: "Nothing suggests that health care standards in
Russia have fallen." He also claims that "public and private spending
on health has risen sharply as a share of GDP." But he does not consider
whether the system’s pervasive corruption, which he notes, might have
preempted potential improvements in health care.
Numerous studies show that not only has health care not improved
in Russia (except for the rich), it has gotten much worse. A recent report by
Judyth Twigg of Virginia Commonwealth University and Kate Schecter, a consultant
to the World Bank, is partly based on extensive consultations with Russian
doctors and health officials. The report concludes that the state system
provides a "dreadful quality of medical care."
While Åslund claims that "hospital equipment has greatly
improved" and "capitalism has made medicines widely available that
were unknown during the Soviet era," the study presents a different
picture. It says that "a shockingly high percentage of health facilities
have no hot water or sewage systems, and most still use glass syringes and
reusable needles.…Patients suffer long waits even for urgently needed care. A
long list of medicines is not only unaffordable, but unavailable….The most
vulnerable parts of the population" are now "unprotected….Universal
access to some level of free medical care has been destroyed."
Peter Reddaway is professor of political science at the George
Washington University and former director of the Kennan Institute for Advanced
Russian Studies in Washington, D.C.