They keep counting me out–even though I always prove them wrong. Yes, my heart gives me no end of trouble. This latest recovery has been the longest yet, and the Americans say I may need some complicated surgery. But I’m back on my feet, 24 pounds lighter and ready to do battle. My doctors and my wife won’t like it, but I may have to announce next month that I’ll run again. My advisers are right when they say these elections prove that I’m the only person who can keep the country on course. Who, after all, could take my place?
Not the reformers. There are too many of them and they can’t seem to agree on anything. The strongest of them couldn’t even manage 7 percent of the ballot last month. Not even my own prime minister, who spent millions on television ads and whose party barely won the heart of one in 10 voters. That hardly makes him a contender. There’s mad Vlad Zhirinovsky, who showed by his second-place finish that he’s still got some kick left. Some people feel uplifted by his extreme talk of rebuilding the Soviet empire; it is a quick antidote to depression. But most Russians are appalled by his ceaseless and bizarre antics. Roughing up a female M.P. on the floor of the Duma, then claiming she wanted to be sexually attacked!
Then there’s this party hack Zyuganov–a man as charismatic as a soggy dumpling. Even the Communists aren’t sure they want Gennady as their candidate. And as for the Russian people: if some of them aren’t happy with the turmoil of the present situation, many more aren’t crazy enough to turn the clock back 75 years. A lot of them still remember the long lines for milk and scraps of sausage. They haven’t forgotten the midnight knock at the door that signaled the disappearance of a loved one forever. And how many could give up their new freedoms-the right to travel, to set up real businesses, to make a new start?
Besides, people would rather have the devil they already know. They may not like me. But once they get into the voting booth they’ll think, “This guy Yeltsin has taken us on a bumpy ride, but at least I know more or less where things are headed now.” I can also peel off layers of my unpopularity in the months before the election. A good, visible anti-corruption campaign should keep some complainers quiet. I can always blame my cabinet for doing a bad job. If the complaints grow louder that privatization is only a disguise for the looting of the economy, I can easily dump the deputy prime minister who launched the program; everybody loves to hate him anyway. And if that damnable mess in Chechnya gets worse, out goes my defense minister!
My biggest worry is hushing those doubts about my health. I could take care of the succession problem by naming a vice president, then run as the head of the ticket. I could always postpone the election, though I’d prefer to win outright in June. So long as my heart keeps pumping, don’t count me out.
Let the pundits call me stiff, boring. The Russian people know better. I understand their fears and frustrations–and I can exploit them better than anyone. I tell them how all this democracy has led to crime and chaos, and they don’t need much convincing on that score. What people remember and long for is stability, predictability. They want to hear that we’ll make the streets safe at night again.
I can deliver, after a fashion, anyway. I now have a voice in Parliament – not strong enough, perhaps, to overturn a presidential veto, but loud enough to arouse the people. We’ll call for lower prices, for protecting local industries and raising wages and pensions. If Yeltsin goes along with some of our initiatives, we’ll get the credit. If he vetoes them, he’ll simply hand us made-to-order campaign issues that we can use against him. “Look,” we’ll be able to say, “this is the president who is responsible for the high price of bread.”
I know the Russian soul: mired in envy. Everyone remembers the old tale about the peasant who becomes enraged when his poor neighbor’s cow grows fat, produces more milk and turns the owner into a rich farmer. When a genie asks him what he would wish to make him happy again, the peasant replies, “Kill my neighbor’s cow.” How instructive. Today’s Russian still can’t abide the fact that so many are better off than he is. The new rich flaunt their wealth -their jewels, their BMWs, their vacations to the Canary Islands–while pensioners barely scrape by. I can’t make ordinary people rich; but I can turn a few of the affluent into ordinary people. That’s why I talk about seizing privatized property if the new owners can’t prove they bought it with money earned legally. I know I’ll never be able to make good on that promise. But to make even one or two examples of scoundrels – people will love that.
Let Yeltsin try to scare people with his anti-Communist diatribes. It didn’t work in this last election, and it won’t work in June. These are the words of a desperate man, a sick man. Two months to recover from the latest coronary-even if he makes it through the runoff in the June election, most people don’t think he can survive another term. I may not be the most exciting personality in Russia, but I’m healthy, energetic. Next to me, Yeltsin will look as doddering as Brezhnev. Meanwhile, I’ll be assuring voters I have a plan to ease the pain and restore us to greatness. The future is ours, comrades.
Between now and June, a lot can change in the political landscape. Yeltsin may decide not to run – or his health may decide that for him. Zyuganov’s own party could choose someone more dynamic. Already there is talk of a possible alliance between the Communists and the nationalist and Afghan-war hero Gen. Aleksandr Lebed. Although his party fared poorly last month, Lebed capitalized on his own popularity to win a seat in Parliament. Late last week, his aides declared Lebed’s candidacy for the presidency, and he said he would “try to make a pact” with the Communists. No one yet knows whether that will happen or what it would mean. And conceivably, one of a half-dozen-odd undeclared candidates could come on strong. But Russians–Communists, nationalists, reformists or other-wise–believe in resurrection. And old pros who know the game are best positioned for a surprise comeback.
