The Economist Asia Edition – July 27, 2019

38 Europe The EconomistJuly 27th 2019

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ofvodkatocelebrateMrZelensky’swin;he

returnedtoUkrainefollowingalmosttwo

yearsofself-imposedexileshortlythere-

after. Ukraine’s courts, widely seen as

crooked,mayhelphimtakebackthebank:

oneKievjudgerecentlyruledthenational-

isationillegal.Thatwouldjeopardisethe

country’simfloans.MrZelenskyhassaid

thathe willdefendthe interests of the

state.Both menhaveplayeddowntheir

ties.YetMrKolomoiskynowtellsTheEcon-

omistthathehasdiscussedPrivatBankby

telephone with Mr Zelensky; the presi-

dent’steamdeclinedtocomment.

HowmuchMrZelenskycanchallenge

theoldsystem,entrenchedinthebureauc-

racy,thecourtsandthesecurityservices,

dependsontheteamhecanassemble.The

presidenthasyettochoosea defencemin-

ister,a biggapgiventhewarwithRussia

simmeringintheeast.Althoughsomeap-

pointees boastimpressive reform back-

grounds,otherscameoverfromMrZelen-

sky’sproductionstudio,Kvartal95.Little

binds theincoming sp mps beyond the

bannertheyranunder;MrZelenskymay

struggletocontrolhisparty.Oligarchs,in-

cludingMrKolomoisky,aresaidtohave

theirownfactionsinsideit.AsMikhailMi-

nakov,apolitical philosopher, cautions,

“Thiselitewon’tnecessarilybebetterthan

thepreviousone.” 7

W

eekends in the middle of summer

are usually a quiet time in Moscow.

Those who are not already on holiday flock

to their dachas in the countryside. So it was

not surprising that Russian authorities

chose this time to disqualify opposition

politicians from the Moscow city council

elections to be held in September. What

was surprising was that on July 20th some

20,000 Muscovites came out in the city

centre to protest against this blatant ma-

nipulation, demand the registration of

their candidates and threaten an even big-

ger protest on July 27th if their demands are

ignored. The spectre of large street protests

that shook Moscow and other cities in

2011-12 filled the air. Just as happened seven

years ago, Alexei Navalny, the leading op-

position politician, electrified the crowd,

who chanted: “This is our city.”

The scale of protest might have taken

the Kremlin by surprise. After all it had dis-

qualified candidates on spurious grounds

before. It had barred Mr Navalny from run-

ninginthepresidential election in 2018

and refused to register his party for the par-

liamentary one. (Mr Navalny was not even

running in this election.) Moreover, the

Moscow City Duma is a largely decorative

organ. It does not control Moscow’s vast

budget nor have any say in the appoint-

ment of its key officials. Until recently

most Muscovites were barely aware of it.

The protest was entirely of the govern-

ment’s own making and its significance

goes far beyond the Moscow parliament. It

is a bellwether for rising social discontent

(often masked by the Kremlin’s seemingly

monolithic grip on power) and the radical-

isation of Russian politics.

In the aftermath of the protests of

2011-12, the Kremlin tried to placate Mos-

cow’s urban middle class by pouring mon-

ey into building a model modern city, com-

plete with bicycle lanes and food halls. At

the same it engineered obstacles to their

political representation, including a re-

quirement for any independent candidate

to collect the signatures of 3% of voters

even to get registered for the Moscow City

Duma elections. This means collecting be-

tween 4,200 and 5,500 signatures per dis-

trict. In 2014, the barrier worked in keeping

opposition out.

But two things have changed in the five

years since the threshold was put in place.

The ruling United Russia party has become

so toxic than none of the pro-government

candidates dared to run on its ticket, opt-

ing instead to run as “independents”. And

the opposition has not only survived but

built an extensive network of activists.

The results became evident in Moscow

over the past month. Whereas the pre-ap-

proved candidates barely bothered to cam-

paign, certain to be ushered through by a

subservient electoral commission, the op-

position ones managed to collect the nec-

essary signatures despite the authorities’

best efforts to thwart them (such as send-

ing in thugs who intimidated volunteers

and threw excrement at candidates).

But then, just as the opposition candi-

dates reached the required number of back-

ers, the electoral commission simply dis-

qualified them. When verifying the

signatures, it deliberately misspelled the

names of voters and declared the lists void.

As Kirill Rogov, a political analyst, wrote,

“We are dealing with one of the biggest

shams in Russia’s electoral history.”

The sham backfired. Instead of damp-

ening interest, the Kremlin in effect mobil-

ised those 3% of the electorate who signed

their names in support of opposition can-

didates. “I used to be unique—they would

not even acknowledge my existence,” Mr

Navalny boomed from the stage. “And now

they tell us that 150,000 people, who gave

their signature for independent candi-

dates, don’t exist. At last we are together.”

On July 24th the authorities acknowledged

his existence by detaining him (again), for

30 days, and raiding the homes of indepen-

dent candidates. Faced with the problem of

his own succession in 2024, Vladimir Putin

has decided to nip any protest in the bud.

But this escalated aggression suggests that

room for a peaceful transition of power in

Russia is shrinking fast. 7

The capital is roused from summer

stupor by the thuggery of the Kremlin

Russia’s protests

Moscow nights

The heat is on

W

ounded and under fire in 1998, Ra-

mush Haradinaj grabbed the only

thing that came to hand with which to

staunch the bleeding. It was a piece of

cheese. The previous year his brother was

killed by Serbian soldiers a couple of hun-

dred meters away from him as they smug-

gled arms together over the mountains

from Albania. Since that war Mr Haradinaj

has translated his consummate skill at

staying alive physically to staying alive po-

litically. His latest such manoeuvre came

on July 19th, when Mr Haradinaj resigned

as prime minister of Kosovo, saying he is

now a suspect in a war-crimes case.

Bouncer, carpenter, guerrilla and politi-

cian, Mr Haradinaj has had a more colour-

ful career than most. In a memoir he talked

of his experiences as a Kosovo Albanian

guerrilla fighting Serbia with relish. In one

incident, when trapped Serbian policemen

were calling for help, he said he “took care

of them in a precise way, from a close dis-

tance.” Mr Haradinaj has been dogged by

Ramush Haradinaj resigns to face

war-crimes allegations

Kosovo’s prime minister

Lazarus redux