40 Europe The EconomistMarch 14th 2020
2 that Mr Putin launched in mid-January
when he first announced plans for consti-
tutional changes. The process was murky
and abrupt. So it was in keeping with the
style of a former kgbman whose own as-
cent to power was a special operation plot-
ted in the corridors of the Kremlin. “A
group of fsb agents assigned to work
undercover in the government of the Rus-
sian Federation is successfully fulfilling its
task,” he quipped in his speech to the fsb
(the successor to the kgb) in December 1999
upon being made prime minister. He be-
came president the following year.
Since then he has conducted other spe-
cial operations, such as the annexation of
Crimea and invasion of Ukraine in 2014,
not to mention the expropriation of the oil-
and-gas firm Yukos in 2004-06. Each of
these operations was dressed up in legal
procedure, be it a referendum in Crimea or
a show trial in the case of Yukos. The con-
stitutional change is no different.
Mr Putin says that the changes will
come into effect only with the endorse-
ment of the Constitutional Court (which he
controls), and with the approval of the Rus-
sian people. They will vote, as it happens,
on April 22nd—the birthday of Lenin, the
founder of the Soviet state who still lies in a
mausoleum in Red Square. The vote is nei-
ther a referendum nor an election, and the
whole process is as legally dubious as the
referendum staged in Crimea. The fact that
Mr Putin is expected to sign his constitu-
tional amendment on March 18th, the sixth
anniversary of the illegal annexation of
Crimea, is revealing.
While Mr Putin’s intention of staying in
power was never much in doubt, the tim-
ing and the rush with which the changes to
the constitution have unfolded have been
striking. Ekaterina Schulmann, a political
scientist, attributes this in part to the mood
of Russia’s elite, who were feeling nervous
about their own future. Mr Putin’s cronies
depend on him for their positions. Uncer-
tainty about his plans makes them fearful
of losing their money, status and possibly
their freedom.
The aim of Mr Putin’s move, she reck-
ons, is to eliminate the risk that the elite
might agree on a successor. Such an agree-
ment would turn Mr Putin into a lame
duck. Sergei Sobyanin, the mayor of Mos-
cow, noted on his personal website that “a
president who cannot run for another term
cannot be a strong figure by definition. A
ban on the incumbent being re-elected is a
destabilising factor both in domestic and
foreign policy.”
But Mr Putin’s erratic and unconvincing
performance over the past few months
risks alienating the public. The fact that he
wants to impose his plan on the Russian
people does not mean he will succeed. Few
countries are as capable of delivering sur-
prises as Russia. His power-grab is takingplace against the background of a stagnat-
ing economy and rampant corruption.
In the two years since Mr Putin’s most
recent election in March 2018, trust in him
has fallen from 60% to 35%. His foreign ad-
ventures no longer thrill the public. Even
anti-Americanism, one of the staples of his
ideology, is going stale. This is why the
promised vote on April 22nd is likely to be a
fraudulent affair. Rallies against the
changes are likely to be banned, thanks to
the convenient coronavirus.
Ella Paneyakh, a Russian sociologist, ar-
gues that the Kremlin has lost touch with
society. Its channels of communication
have been reduced to broadcasting propa-ganda, which is losing its effect. Even brib-
ing people with their own money does not
seem to work any more.
The only instrument left is repression,
which the government has already shown a
willingness to use. “The state has plenty of
potential for repression and it can be used
again and again, until it encounters a pro-
blem that cannot be resolved by force,” Ms
Paneyakh says. Mr Putin’s constitutional
coup and his growing reliance on repres-
sion rather than patronage or propaganda
raises the cost of challenging him, reduces
the chances of an orderly transfer of power
and increases the risk of violence in Russia.
All this in the name of stability. 7D
ressed in aBarbour coat and clutching
a nato-embossed umbrella, the retired
general strides down the streets as if into
battle. “I’m not a politician,” declares Ber-
trand de la Chesnais as he knocks vigorous-
ly on doors, which are opened cautiously, if
at all: “But I know how to run an organisa-
tion.” Dividing Carpentras into eight dis-
tricts, he has chalked up 5,000 doors in this
Provençal town of 29,000 people since last
August. The general’s aim: to raise his pro-
file as a candidate for mayor—backed by
Marine Le Pen (pictured).
On March 15th and 22nd the French go to
the polls for two rounds of voting for may-
ors of the country’s 35,000 towns and vil-
lages. At the previous elections, in 2014, Ms
Le Pen’s populist party, National Rally (rn,
formerly the National Front), won a record11 town halls. It hopes to beat that this time.
In Carpentras, with its 15th-century cathe-
dral, shaded fountains and plentiful kebab
shops, her candidate lost by just 306 votes
after a three-way run-off against the Social-
ists and Republicans. Now the 62-year-old
general, who led a United Nations battalion
during the siege of Sarajevo, is hoping to
take the town.
During an evening of canvassing, Mr de
la Chesnais is mostly greeted as a candidate
like any other. Inside a small flat, a man
wearing a tracksuit and crucifix welcomes
him in for a chat. A discussion ensues
about the “Muslim vote”. “They are manip-
ulated,” suggests his wife. Back out in the
street, a woman parking her car smilesin
recognition: “I know you from Sunday
mass!” “Ah non, not you!” calls out anotherAVIGNON AND CARPENTRAS
Emmanuel Macron’s party braces for disappointmentFrench local electionsA kicking on the way
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