Read Online The Dictator's Learning Curve: Inside the Global Battle for Democracy by William J. Dobson - Free Book Online Page B

suggested Medvedev as his successor. It was selection, not election.”
    Less than three months later, on March 2, 2008, Medvedev won in an apparent landslide. That night, wearing a leather jacket and blue jeans, he celebrated his victory alongside Putin at an outdoor rock concert in Red Square. At only forty-two, he was a young, handsome, if somewhat bland protégé. The former lawyer from St. Petersburg had done very little to distinguish himself to Russian voters, making vague pronouncements about his desire to fight corruption and promote the rule of law. As one of his current advisers told me, with so little time between his debut and his election, it wasn’t as if he had any vision or program for how to lead Russia. But from Putin’s perspective, that may have actually been one of his greatest qualities as a temporary successor. As Medvedev told the people in Red Square that night, his victory meant “we will be able to maintain the course suggested by President Putin.”
    But the mere fact that the country was being led, at least formally, by a new face gave some people a reason for hope. Medvedev did notshare Putin’s KGB background, and he had come of age during the reforms of the 1980s. Some noted that Medvedev had likely had a hand in some of Putin’s early reforms, before he turned more autocratic. If nothing else, his legal training suggested that he might value the role of institutions and legal protections, not just power. Arseny Roginsky, a former Soviet dissident and the co-founder of Memorial, one of Russia’s most respected NGOs, told me as much when we met in Moscow. “As a rule, the skeptics are always right in Russia,” he said. “And believe me, I am not a Medvedev man. But we need hope, and we need to hope for something.”
    Medvedev’s own words fueled those hopes. A year into his presidency, his speeches and remarks were frequentlypeppered with criticism for the political system he led. He described the country’s democracy as “weak.” He said the economy was “primitive.” He called the country’s social systems at best “semi-Soviet.” In a speech to the Duma, Medvedev declared, “Our state is the biggest employer, the most active publisher, the best producer, its own judge, its own party, and, in the end, its own public. Such a system is absolutely inefficient and creates only one thing—corruption.” If nothing else, Medvedev sounded like a president who understood the system and its flaws.
    And that was the trouble. There was nothing else; Medvedev was long on rhetoric and short on results. From the beginning, he had talked about the dangers of corruption, and it remained unchecked. He had promised that the people behind the murders of journalists would be brought to justice, but cases remained unsolved. He unveiled proposals to reform the police and the Interior Ministry. Russians barely noticed, and according to the Levada polling center 66percent did not believe his reforms would accomplish anything. It did not help that in early 2010 Medvedev was publicly complaining that by his count, 38percent of his presidential orders were ignored by governors and ministers.
    Medvedev could be as hapless as he sometimes appeared. After all, he might have been the president of the Russian Federation, butit wasn’t as if he had many centers of support inside his government. Putin loyalists—the ministries, the Duma, United Russia, the security services—essentially flanked him on all sides. Given how much these politicians and bureaucrats had personally benefited from the systemas Putin had constructed it, what interest did they have in reform? Indeed, despite his vocal criticisms, some viewed Medvedev’s role as both president and chief critic as an innovation in its own right. The tandem leadership of Medvedev and Putin took on the appearance of good cop, bad cop, with a twist. “You can see the whole tactics of Medvedev-Putin as a very interesting communication approach where