COLUMN: Yeltsin: Reformist gone sour

From Lindsay Faber's, "From Russia With Love," Fall '98 From Lindsay Faber's, "From Russia With Love," Fall '98Russian President Boris Yeltsin is now vacationing at the Black Sea resort of Sochi, because -- according to his doctors -- he is too "fatigued" to run the country. Perhaps strange for the president is that few in Moscow notice his absence. Disgruntled Russians hit the streets, urging their president to either address their concerns or step down. Some elderly protesters, angry about not receiving their pension in over three months, sported bright posters of Josef Stalin and Vladimir Lenin. The Russian press has thrown out a myriad of diseases that Yeltsin may be suffering from. And it is no secret that Yeltsin has been known to hit the bottle a little too hard. Clearly, times have changed for the man who has always been able to exert power and control over every conflict he faced. Yeltsin's early years as the first democratically elected president of Russia were marked by drama, chaos and impulsive actions. The transition from communism to democracy was not an easy one, and Yeltsin was the first to find out. In 1991, Yeltsin was seen climbing atop a tank before the Parliament house, executing a historic coup against then-President of the Soviet Union Mikhail Gorbachev. Two years later, he ordered troops to open fire on the Parliament house, the very same building where he had made his stand in 1991. And in 1994, the world watched and became frightened as Yeltsin ordered Russian troops to attack the breakaway republic of Chechnya, a move which literally killed tens of thousands of people. Turbulence and survival have always been Yeltsin's constant companions, the themes for Russia's now ailing president who grew up in a rural village and, ironically, rose to the highest echelons of the Communist Party. But now, with Yeltsin looking more politically isolated than ever, Kremlin aides say he has surrendered day-to-day management of the country to Prime Minister Yevgeny Primakov. Primakov's government -- after nearly two months in office -- has little to show for it. In fact, Primakov recently released his long-awaited anti-crisis plan to the International Monetary Fund, which rebuffed the plan without approving the release of $4.3 billion promised to the previous government in June. Like Russian liberals and western governments, the IMF is worried that the current crisis might stimulate the reversal of post-Soviet Russia's switch to free market capitalism. Primakov's anti-crisis plan, as expected, includes a sharp increase in the state's role in the economy. "Especially when one is coming out of a crisis situation, there is a special need to strengthen the regulatory role of the state," Primakov told reporters on Saturday. "In Russia, everybody is objectively tired of liberal reforms and the time has come for an objective breathing space," he added, predicting that the "pause" in reforms would last -- at the least -- six years. Six years is surely a long time to wait for some resolution of this mess, but Russia needs the time to recover from its current crisis, which is likely to flare up again by the end of the year. While Primakov has done nothing dramatic to help Russia, he has thus far done nothing to harm her either. This stagnation will be the hallmark of his government, and intentionally so. The exchange rate here has managed to stay at 15-17 rubles to the dollar for three or four weeks now; imports and production have started up again; and the shelves are filling up with other countries' goods. Mass discontent assuredly exists, but it has not exploded into civil unrest. It is true that small-scale ruble emissions began -- a move that every liberal criticizedE-- but it has not yet stimulated hyperinflation. And if all goes according to plan, no one will starve this winter. Strangely enough, there is something that appears like stabilization in Russia. Primakov was appointed almost two months ago, and he said at the time that he couldn't work magic. But that comment stemmed from his knowledge that the dynamics of the crisis were inevitably predetermined. His style steers away from large overhaul and reform. Instead, he adheres to slow reforms that are unlikely to have disastrous effects. It's hard to believe that this is still Yeltsin's government. From the leader who helped destroy the USSR and was once so politically dynamic, the world expected massive change and progress. Until now, Yeltsin had amassed near-absolute power in Russia, and even jokingly referred to himself as "Czar Boris." Now, however, the only thing Yeltsin is fighting for is his image in a country where the people are ready to see him go. But this contrast in behavior -- from a vibrant Yeltsin to a politically paralyzed one -- should not really be such a surprise. After all, Yeltsin's entire life is highlighted by one contradiction after the next. He was the Communist Party chief who helped to destroy communism. He is a democrat who referred to himself as a czar. And he is a preserver of the constitution he himself wrote, but he somehow manages to keep the power firmly within his own grasp. Yet one question remains: Without Yeltsin at the helm, will Russia be prepared to continue democracy, or will she submit, quit and return to her Soviet ways? The world waits anxiously to find out.