Constructing the Russian Federation
As one of the newly independent states, Russia inherited the lion’s share of the Soviet Union’s assets, land, and population. But dissolution did not mean resolution: the fifteen republics were still closely entangled, with interdependent economies and complex interspersing of ethnic groups. Most Russians, for example, resided in the Russian Federation, but another 25 million ethnic Russians resided in the ‘near abroad’—the other former Soviet republics. It was one thing to dismantle the Soviet state; it was quite another to disentangle the knot of economic, ethnic, and cultural ties that had been forged over the many decades of tsarist and Soviet rule.
Nor was the Russian Federation itself a cohesive unit. Apart from the substantial ethnic and religious minorities, it lacked the set of independent political institutions needed to resolve critical problems and differences. Yeltsin had disestablished the Soviet Union and had outlawed the Communist Party, but did not have an alternative political base and organization. He had made tactical alliances with nationalist and democratic movements, but showed a commitment to neither; elected president of the Russian Federation in 1991, for the next eight years he lacked a coherent vision and programme and instead concentrated on the consolidation of ‘presidential’ powers. Throughout, Yeltsin had to combat an independent, oppositionist parliament, which only reinforced his predilection to rule imperiously rather than govern democratically. He initially had a legal mandate for that authority: in the twilight of the Soviet Union, the Russian Congress of People’s Deputies gave him broad powers, but for only one year, with 1 December 1992 as the date for their expiration. Yeltsin used that power to convert the Soviet administration into Russian institutions, sometimes by simply renaming them, but often by conducting more fundamental reorganization. He also created a para-governmental apparatus directly responsible to the president (the ‘Presidential Administration’), which steadily grew in size and power.
Yeltsin’s most fateful decision was to embrace fully the so-called ‘shock therapy’, a radical prescription for an accelerated transition from a command economy to free markets. It was based on the prevailing neoliberal nostrum, which included deregulation of prices, privatization, and budget austerity, with the goal of a rapid transition to a more efficient, competitive economic system based on the Western model. Gorbachev had rejected this formula, but Yeltsin had no such inhibitions; he believed that it would produce instantaneous results and also elicit Western aid and credits. His acting prime minister, Egor Gaidar, firmly believed in the neoliberal programme which celebrated the end of the Cold War and seemingly heralded the global triumph of Western, free-market democracy.
That neoliberal prescription, as Gorbachev had foreseen, entailed enormous costs. First, it failed to generate the anticipated windfall of revenues from the privatization of state property and from a higher level of productivity. On the contrary, it led to a sharp decline in production and prices for energy exports, leaving the government insolvent. Moreover, dissolution of the USSR sundered the ties that characterized the interdependent, autarchical Soviet economy; factories dependent on other republics—for resources or markets—suddenly had neither. As production and trade contracted, the government saw a corresponding decline in tax revenues. But Moscow was fearful of slashing expenditures: it dared neither to reduce social services (health care, education, and pensions) nor to cut subsidies to state enterprises (which would only swell the ranks of the unemployed). Instead, Yeltsin printed money with abandon, with the inevitable result of astronomical inflation—a mind-boggling increase of 2,609 per cent in 1992, which wiped out years of individual savings and left the entire economic and social edifice in total shambles.
This social and economic crisis formed the background to rising tensions between President Yeltsin and the parliament, which only intensified once Yeltsin’s extraordinary powers expired in December 1992. Parliamentary and presidential sides negotiated but failed to reach an agreement, especially on the difficult issues facing a country in post-communist transition. In April 1993 Yeltsin arranged a national referendum on his draft constitution, but won by a bare majority. That heralded an open confrontation between Yeltsin and the parliament, impelling each to manoeuvre and seek popular support. By the autumn of 1993, in the face of impending economic collapse and mass discontent, a desperate Yeltsin resorted to raw force and illegal, non-constitutional means: on 21 September 1993 he disbanded the parliament and announced plans for elections and a referendum on a new draft constitution. The parliament actively resisted Yeltsin’s d’état; the president stormed the parliament, crushed the opposition (with nearly 200 killed and hundreds more wounded), and reiterated plans for a constitutional referendum and new parliamentary elections.
The balloting in December 1993 did nothing to resolve the political crisis. In the referendum, a majority of voters approved the Yeltsin constitution, but by a slim majority; given the low rate of voter participation, less than a third of the electorate approved the new constitution—and even these did so before Yeltsin released the actual text of this foundational document. Nor did the parliamentary elections (to what was now called the ‘State Duma’) give Yeltsin a reliable legislature; on the contrary, the opposition had a clear majority (with the Communist Party the largest contingent) determined to combat Yeltsin every step of the way. For the next six years Yeltsin had to govern without parliamentary support, and that only reinforced his predisposition toward personal rule and gravely complicated the government’s capacity to identify and resolve critical problems.
The Yeltsin Presidency
Boris Yeltsin reigned but did not rule. Although he claimed broad authority and built a personal (‘presidential’) administration to exert his will, Yeltsin actually had limited power. At the central level an oppositionist Duma fiercely contested his policies and sabotaged his legislative agenda. The new Duma elections in December 1995 did not help: the result was a two-thirds anti-Yeltsin majority (with the Communist Party ascendant), which was still more obstreperous, feeling empowered by the vote, Yeltsin’s low approval ratings, and keen awareness of the country’s desperate economic situation. But the Duma had only negative power: it could obstruct, but not impose its own will or chart a new direction. The Yeltsin constitution of 1993 sought to create a ‘super-presidency’ and therefore limited the parliament’s power to initiate legislation, check the executive branch, and impeach Yeltsin and his officials. The Duma did have the power to reject the president’s nominee for prime minister, but could do so only at its own periclass="underline" after three negative votes, the president could dissolve the Duma and call for new elections. That would force Duma deputies to risk losing their privileges and perquisites, a gamble that few deputies were willing to take. Once approved, the prime minister and his administration were not accountable to parliament. Nor did the Duma, given the reports of corruption and scandalous behaviour (fisticuffs and brawls during its august sessions), enhance its stature in public opinion. Still, as Yeltsin’s popularity plummeted and the domestic economic crisis deepened, the Duma had ample opportunity to trumpet the regime’s incompetence and corruption. The Duma dramatically demonstrated its amour propre and authority in September 1998, when it forced Yeltsin to withdraw his original nominee for prime minister and to accept a candidate—Evgenii Primakov—who enjoyed the enthusiastic support of the Duma, not the president.