Interview: Maxim Kurnikov and Marat Guelman
Maxim Kurnikov: We are in the studio with Maxim Kurnikov and Marat Guelman. Let us state right away that you do not live in Berlin; you are just passing through.
Marat Guelman: Yes, I am here for just two days.
Kurnikov: Nowadays, this really has to be specified, because every time someone appears in a studio in Berlin, everyone immediately asks how they moved, and so on. But with Marat Guelman, we have a completely different story. I remember the last time we met on air at the Echo of Moscow radio station. It was that very day, the day after you were designated a "foreign agent." How have you been living with this status over the past months?
Guelman: The day I was designated felt like having another birthday. Most of my friends called to congratulate me; they felt it was a recognition of merit and that in modern Russia, it’s like receiving a medal. Right now, I am grateful to the people who gave me this foreign agent status. First of all, I don’t have to explain to different audiences that I am not in solidarity with Putin, that I am against the war, and that I am on Ukraine's side in this case. Second, they essentially gave me an advance warning. The thing is, I had planned to live half the time in Montenegro and half in Moscow. I had large projects planned with the Tretyakov Gallery. When they made me a foreign agent, I realized that this was a utopia and that nothing would work out. I used to think it was possible to speak freely, distance oneself from the authorities, and just live in Moscow—specifically in cultural Moscow among my friends, of whom there are very many. Therefore, I started packing up and leaving Moscow earlier than others. I had a two-month head start during which I shipped paintings to Montenegro and wrapped up my affairs.
Kurnikov: How did you live after that? To what extent could those affairs still be conducted in Russia, and most importantly, how did you write on social media? Did you use that disclaimer snippet which people colloquially refer to with a swear word?
Guelman: I used that disclaimer until they passed the law banning the use of the word "war." The thing is, that carries heavy prison sentences. And refusing to call a war a war was a matter of principle for me. Before that, simply putting up the disclaimer and joking about it, or reminding my readers that I am a foreign agent, wasn't a problem for me at all. Pavel Chikov from Agora advised me on foreign agent compliance. But facing 5 to 10 years in prison just to avoid a 50,000-ruble fine is simply ridiculous. So, I stopped using the disclaimer as soon as the war started.
Kurnikov: If we look at what this war has changed—not just in our lives, but globally for everything Russian. As a gallerist, you spent a lot of time representing Russian art abroad. Is Russian art facing hard times now too?
Guelman: For the duration of the war, these are not hard times, but times of silence; it’s an objective situation. Close friends, people in Europe who have spent their lives working with Russian art, understand perfectly well that today we must work for Ukraine. Today, any gesture toward anything Russian carries a meaning and is interpreted differently than it was yesterday. Therefore, for the duration of the war, there is silence.
The second, highly vital aspect is protest art. Not everyone can be a hero. There are people of art who never thought they needed to be heroes; they just intended to be artists. For them, there is silence. For those who are ready to raise their voices, this is the time for protest art. It must be said that this process is gradually gaining momentum. On the whole, the Russian art community has been conformist lately; this exchange of freedom for treats since 2014 has done its job. But inside, there are still very good artists who defend the honor of Russian art. Despite all the danger, they create street protest art and speak out publicly.
Kurnikov: When you say artists, do you mean specifically those who paint with brush on canvas, or those who make films, write books, etc.?
Guelman: Yes, of course. I mean that there is a small segment of cultural figures who have set aside all their other affairs and are currently engaged strictly in protest art—protesting against Putin, against the war, and also standing up for Ukraine. Every day, I help Ilya Ponomarev run a Russian-language channel out of Kyiv. We publish street art there daily, meaning the kind of artistic guerrilla warfare that is happening inside Russia.
But globally speaking, now is a time of silence. When the war is over and the shooting stops, it doesn’t mean everything will instantly vanish, but the time for distinctions will begin. For instance, Valery Gergiev is effectively an accomplice to all of this. There is a fairly large group of people, mostly connected to pop music. I hope that they will be canceled in Russia as well. With the rest, it will be looked at very slowly and very gradually. If we compare the situation, for instance, with Germany after the war—a new movement emerged there, the "German Wild Ones" (Neo-Expressionists), who in one way or another processed German guilt. I have temporarily lost my profession because today, not only is nobody interested in Russian art, but I wouldn't even offer it.
Kurnikov: There is another side. There are state museums located inside Russia. What is happening to them now? You mentioned you had projects with the Tretyakov Gallery. Is all of that shut down now?
Guelman: I canceled them, yes. It’s the same state. It’s not about the fact that my friends and colleagues work at the Tretyakov Gallery. But if tomorrow someone in the Kremlin decides they need to use the Tretyakov Gallery for the war effort, they will have no choice; they will do it.
Kurnikov: I’ve already seen it. A colleague from Moscow sent me an exhibition titled something like "NATO: 40 Years of Murder."
Guelman: Yes. I want to say that if they come to schools, line up children in the shape of a Z, and put military caps on them—the children are not to blame, we understand that perfectly well. The school as an institution is forced to submit to this dictation. I believe there must be a total ban today on interacting with Russian state institutions. The Ministry of Culture of Ukraine recently issued a statement. On one hand, they thanked those cultural figures who speak out against the war; they do not believe that everyone should be banned based on their passport. On the other hand, they urge not to deal with any state institution in Russia. On the whole, I agree with them; there's no way around it.
Kurnikov: Is the phrase "cancel Russian" only for the duration of the war, or will it have much longer-term consequences?
Guelman: I think this kind of cancellation is for the duration of the war. The thing is, right now it is difficult to sort through the nuances. When my colleagues reproach me for having such a harsh stance... Indeed, when a bomb falls, it doesn't choose its victims either. In this sense, war is war. For the duration of the war, we have no other option: remain silent or protest. When it ends, it will likely turn out that, on the contrary, some of us were doing something very vital for Ukraine during this time.
I don't think this cancellation of culture will be an automatic process. There will be a massive discussion. For example, take the meme called "great Russian culture." What does that mean? While Tolstoy on his own may be a great writer, saying "great Russian culture" is probably that very imperial style. Culture is made by individuals, and greatness can be identified within the art itself, its manifestations, and the people. European culture consists of equals. Europe is a gathering of equals; nobody stands on a podium, nobody towers over anyone else. Humanitarian knowledge exists between people, not between countries. I think when the cancellation of Russian culture is rolled back, there will be a revision.
Kurnikov: Russian art and Russian culture will return, but it won't be imperial?
Guelman: Yes. First of all, it must follow the principle of being an equal among equals. Second, it must emphasize individuals. When the curator of the Pompidou and I were building a collection, we met with collectors who talked about their works. And they kept saying, "This is a Russian artist," "This is a Ukrainian artist." And he said to me: why do they keep emphasizing nationality? In our case, at best, we would say "living in Paris" or "living in Berlin." We need to place more emphasis not on the "Russian" aspect, but on the people—what they say, what they do. We are talking about Russian-language culture now. For example, in my opinion, the most interesting and brilliant living poet writing in Russian today is Alexander Kabanov. He lives in Kyiv, and right now he is being bombed. The Russian army is bombing a Russian poet.
I think what Putin has done has crushed not only culture; he has thrown all of Russia back by a whole era. In culture, the only optimism lies in the fact that it is not unified. It consists of a large number of individuals. Presumably, some artists, musicians, and composers will live and create, overcoming these difficulties. For the majority, of course, this will turn out to be a grueling ordeal.
Kurnikov: If you say that Russian culture was quite conformist, does that mean this very culture bears a share of responsibility for this war?
Guelman: I would say it bears a large share of responsibility. This needs to be understood. My friends sometimes ask me why I constantly write about trying to do things, like establishing the Pristanište foundation for refugees in Montenegro. I respond that I feel responsibility, I feel guilt. I left for Montenegro in 2014 after Crimea as a form of protest. I didn't return for three years, but then I started visiting. I really liked my life in Moscow, and I understood my colleagues who traded their voice for this vibrant, rich, and interesting life in Moscow. We shouldn't exaggerate, though. Putin is a paranoiac, and this paranoia was fed more by historians than by artists. But on the whole, of course, we are part of the force that made all of this possible. This ambiguity of the situation suited most people.
When I was fired from my position as a museum director, none of my colleagues protested. Some expressed regret, etc. It was a censorship scandal. In 2014, the gallery was closed; I was running an auction to aid political prisoners. I had done this auction before, but this time an order apparently came from above. Frankly, the Winzavod art center became known worldwide because I started working there. Many people to this day still think that Winzavod is Guelman’s gallery. When Winzavod kicked me out, none of my colleagues particularly revolted.
I want to say that this notion of an "enlightened authoritarianism" existed in Moscow just three months ago. Just a few months ago, people could argue with me and say: "Yes, he is an authoritarian ruler, we have no elections, no democracy, but that’s because our government is the main European in Russia. If it weren't authoritarian, you know who would win the elections..." This flaw was visible to everyone. When Putin started, one could say we made a mistake—for instance, Boris Nemtsov supported him. We made a mistake because we didn't understand how big of a mistake it was to return the security services to power. Lately, it had already become obvious to everyone.
Kurnikov: Wasn't it a mistake, at some stage, for culture and the thinking elites to work for this regime anyway? When these new galleries were opening, when it created the illusion that our government might not be elected, but everything else we have is just like civilized nations.
Guelman: You cannot hold claims against any specific individual. He acts the way he acts based on his circumstances, and I am not his judge. Furthermore, each of us who speaks out openly today against the regime realized this simple truth—that Putin will lead Russia to a collapse at some point—some earlier, some later. If we talk about the community as a whole, it was its mistake, and it squeezed out the sharpest elements. Look, when Pussy Riot started doing their actions, a significant portion of the professional community said that this wasn't art at all. But today we see that this is precisely what protest art is. Yet, they erected this little fence. They did the same when Pavlensky was doing his actions. Effectively, the art community expelled that part of itself which was needed—the radical, prickly art. You could say this is a guilt.
At the same time, an artist who deals with some philosophical, formal things doesn't know how to express himself in a journalistic way; you cannot blame him by saying, "Why are you making abstract works when you should be painting 'Putin is a dickhead'?" Everyone does their own thing. Dmitry Gutov says that sometimes abstract art is more important as a political gesture. On the whole, the community is aligned with the rest of the country. I want to say that just as the army is a reflection of the country—since there was corruption in the country, it meant there was corruption in the army too. Thank God, a lot of money was stolen, and the army fights poorly. The art community is also a reflection on the whole. Another matter is that the pro-regime part within it is mostly not us. It’s the pop music crowd, the so-called popsa. But that doesn't mean we should say, "We have nothing to do with it."
Kurnikov: You talk about how it was perceived in Russia and how it is perceived abroad now; it seems there are only two positions here—one supporting the regime, the other opposing it. But that isn't the case. I think even in Montenegro it isn't the case. I am sure a large number of Montenegrins and Serbs say, "Putin is a great guy." A large number of people in the Baltic states and here in Germany say, "Yes, maybe he’s wrong about some things, but what a great guy he is for fighting for traditional values." How does that work? Why is it like that?
Guelman: I would sharpen it even further. People say propaganda works. In Montenegro, it isn't like that, but in Serbia, they indeed have their own Putins. Of course, a great deal there is connected to the fact that they were bombed by NATO, and this is their unhealed wound. Therefore, anyone who is against NATO is already sympathetic to them. Unquestionably, this is a riddle that wasn't very clear even before the war. You and I can argue that the system currently being built in the world has flaws. There is a sense of a lack of alternatives. European society attempts to overcome this flaw, while Putin attempts to exploit it. That small class of people who are supporters of Putin or supporters of alternative politics are people who are disillusioned. This is not Putin’s merit; these are the errors of European politics.
Right now, while the war is going on, it is absolutely wrong to speak about these half-tones. This is the exact moment when you need to choose a side and act. The matter is very simple: he must be stopped. Every single day means deaths and tragedies. For Russia, every day means postponing the prospect of returning to a normal life. If this all ends within a month, it’s one situation—meaning perhaps in a year or a year and a half, we can return to normal life. But if this lasts for a year, then it seems to me we are talking about decades.
Kurnikov: It's easy to dismiss it by saying that those who live in Europe and support Putin are people who haven't found themselves, and thus they express a protest against what is happening in Europe. But you know about the motorcades organized here, featuring quite good cars even by German standards.
Guelman: I didn't say these were unsuccessful people. I said these were people who saw a certain alternative in Russian propaganda. Perhaps an alternative is needed, just as there once was a green alternative for Germany. It turns out that if I say the political system is imperfect, everyone will agree with me. And then I say, "Therefore, let’s be supporters of Putin." And this transition is a flaw that is worth working on. There is no need to prove to people that the political system is perfect.
Kurnikov: Look how many alternatives there are: the Left, the ultra-Left, the Right, the Greens, the Centrists, Christians, atheists—why is something still missing in this palette?
Guelman: We can analyze the reasons calmly. These are the exact same reasons why Trump won in America. You say there are various forces; in America too, there are Democrats and Republicans, but the ruling elite became quite insular and closed off, deciding things among themselves. In effect, they don't particularly need society. At that moment, Trump emerges as an alternative. Nobody analyzes what he is like or what his views are.
This conversation belongs to the pre-war era, in a sense. The argument that Europe is imperfect and discussing what happens here against the backdrop of what Putin is doing—it seems to me this is simply an error. Imagine a child interrupted someone in a conversation, and you need to correct him by saying that interrupting is bad; but instead of correcting him, you kill him. Against that backdrop, arguing that interrupting is bad sounds rather strange.
It's clear that Putin struggles with strategy. Every goal he sets for himself yields the exact opposite result. He says his goal is to help the people in Donbas. In 2021, due to the conflict in Donbas—and there is a conflict there, a conflict instigated by Russia among others—8 people died. By "helping," he is already killing around 30,000, if we count both sides. Meaning, this is a horrific discrepancy. Naturally, there are certain problems in Ukrainian society, just as there are problems in any society, but when a war is launched in response to these problems, discussing them is strange. When people start bringing me paperwork now about Azov being some kind of nationalists, I say: look, I prefer these nationalists a hundred times over; they didn't start a war. Throughout all this time, I’ve been to Kyiv, I’ve been to Odesa—surely there are nationalists somewhere, but frankly, I haven't even encountered them. And here we have such an aggression. Right now, the main task is to do everything to stop the war. Stopping the war and concluding the war are two different tasks. It will conclude, of course, inside Russia.
Kurnikov: How can it be stopped?
Guelman: By stopping, I mean making the shooting stop.
Kurnikov: And how can that be done?
Guelman: I am not a strategist, but my understanding is that Putin’s losses must be tenfold. Let's say he wants to inflict some damage on Ukraine—he must receive a tenfold response. Then he will stop, because it will cost him too much. That is the first stage: stop the war. The second stage is to conclude the war. Concluding it will only be possible inside Russia. Therefore, one of our tasks now is to speak the truth to the people who live there.
Kurnikov: You say a tenfold damage. Is such a framing of the question possible against the leader of a country with nuclear weapons?
Guelman: My understanding is that he didn't expect three things. First, that the Ukrainian army would turn out to be more combat-effective than the Russian army. Second, he didn't expect the sanctions to be real. Third, he didn't expect an anti-war protest movement inside the country. He thought he had cleansed everything, and that Europeans were too rational to introduce sanctions to their own detriment. I think the economy has already sustained this tenfold damage by now. As for the army's failures—all of this directly influences the mood within the military, and at some point, he will realize that if he doesn't stop the war, this army will return to overthrow him.
Kurnikov: I want to ask you about what these losses mean. Don't you think that if there is no victory now, Vladimir Putin will attempt to secure this victory in something else? Perhaps in another country, or perhaps inside his own country, but those who dared to say anything against him will pay dearly.
Guelman: Unquestionably, he has announced the beginning of a civil war. The "fifth column," "national-traitors"—we’ve heard it all. This war has already begun. It must be said that while the entire world is helping Ukraine, if he suddenly stops fighting out there and initiates terror strictly inside the country, nobody will help the Russians. Nobody will protect them from Putin. As for trying to guess his actions—surely there are professionals trying to guess them, but since he is genuinely a paranoiac... Even though he looks absolutely rational—and this happens with paranoiacs—he is gripped by a paranoid obsession.
Kurnikov: Forgive me, but what leads you to such a conclusion? Is it strictly from what you observe on television, or do you know something as someone who worked around those circles for a time?
Guelman: I can say there is a certain norm. Within this norm lies a fairly wide corridor of possibilities. What he is doing sits outside the boundaries of this norm. His paranoid thought process is obvious. Ukraine—he relates to it passionately, passionately denying its existence. One of the symptoms of this paranoia is seeing threats everywhere: "They could have attacked us, therefore we will attack first." Alexander Lukashenko is acting, of course, while Putin is a genuine paranoiac. When Lukashenko speaks, you understand that he doesn't believe his own words. When Putin speaks, you understand that he resides inside this world entirely. Trying to forecast his actions is a fine endeavor, but it is far more successful to exert pressure across all fronts.
Kurnikov: Don't you think that the power and paranoia restrained on one hand by this pressure will be ruptured on the other hand into something even worse?
Guelman: He behaves like a terrorist; he relies on your caution. For him, this caution is his weapon. He was absolutely confident that they couldn't renounce energy resources, that there couldn't be such harsh sanctions. Why? Because it would run against the interests of the average European citizen. In Montenegro, gasoline is 8% more expensive than it was before the war. And what can the average citizen do? He can do nothing. We have no choice but to push. Naturally, one must think about these possibilities you mention, trying to minimize the damage he can inflict, but surrendering is not an option. "I am afraid he will press the button, therefore I will..."—that is exactly what he counts on. We’ve seen massive corruption in the army now, and he is currently not confident that pressing the button will solve his problems. This hasn't been tested, or it was tested by those exact same corrupt individuals. I have many people who have left Russia now. A guy arrived from Perm, and he shares stories. There are guys who handle cash-outs—a business of laundering bribes. Once a year, they set aside all their other affairs and cash out the Ministry of Defense; that’s how much was stolen there. Now he already understands this; he has seen that this army is incapacitated.
Kurnikov: It is less capable than expected, but calling it completely incapacitated is probably inaccurate.
Guelman: He planned to take it in 96 hours; it failed. Why then would pressing the button turn out the way he planned? This is highly vital. With each passing day, the army realizes where they have ended up. Did you notice the highly ridiculous regulation they passed stating that members of United Russia do not have the right to travel abroad without the permission of the faction leader? Is that out of nowhere? No, it means someone already wants to bail from United Russia. We are worrying, of course; Ukraine is at the absolute limit of its capabilities, but very soon the number of problems he faces inside Russia will be such that he won't be thinking about Ukraine. He will go to negotiate peace, precisely because he will fear what these soldiers, these marauders, are capable of. Do you think that if they raped a Ukrainian woman, it would be a problem for them to rape a Russian woman? A defenseless woman stands before them, and that's it. These people will return to Russia, and what, will they suddenly turn into good boys? I think that today we can only amplify the pressure, and of course inside Russia, where protesting is dangerous—prison, etc.—one can resort to boycotts and sabotage. Sabotage is the keyword today.
Kurnikov: Regarding sabotage. Let's take the media—aside from Marina Ovsyannikova, who stepped out with a poster, we haven't seen anything like that on Channel One or Russia 1. Tell me, is everyone there so ideological, or why do they continue this war?
Guelman: First of all, I want to say that some people left. I know of about seven people who resigned. That is a small number; I am not saying it is sufficient. We need to push until it becomes an avalanche-like process. It’s not that everything has already happened. You and I must set a realistic goal. Objectively, making Channel One speak the truth today is an unrealistic goal. But making all the professionals simply resign is absolutely realistic. Perhaps some of them will do it for pragmatic reasons; it doesn't matter. People tell me now that Putin's opponents left not because they are against the war, but simply because their lives changed. Quite possibly, a segment of the people currently opposing Putin are not thinking about Ukraine, but are thinking about the fact that their beautiful life in Moscow has ended. Right now, it doesn't matter. When the war is over, then we will sort it out. Right now, we need as many people to leave as possible.
Kurnikov: Meaning these comrade courts on Facebook—criticizing someone because even though they resigned, they didn't make a public statement, or they left but didn't condemn the war—you don't support that?
Guelman: I believe that everything that works toward delivering the truth is good. People need to be stimulated to leave—maybe yesterday you didn't understand, but today you did. Suddenly you saw some human story from Ukraine, and you got scared: what am I participating in? That is good. Today, sabotage is what we must facilitate—meaning, delivering the truth and sabotaging everything connected to the state machine. For public figures, it's a different story. An actor, an artist, a director, a musician—these are public professions; your profession is tied to the fact that you have fans, you speak out and they listen to your statements, you cannot simply hide. For people in non-public professions, perhaps it is permissible to simply run away, to simply hide.
Kurnikov: When Ovsyannikova got a job here in the neighboring building, I saw a lot of outraged posts about it from Russian opposition journalists. They were saying: how can someone work for Channel One for so many years and then integrate here so easily? Do you share this bewilderment?
Guelman: For Christians, there is clearly the parable of the Prodigal Son. For the Lord, the prodigal son turned out to be more precious than the one who lived with him. This is highly vital: a person who defected to the other side is extremely valuable.
Kurnikov: Valuable in the same way Dmitry Kiselev is valuable for the regime? Because we all remember how Dmitry Kiselev used to be a liberal, talked about how vital democracy was, and worked for Poroshenko at one point.
Guelman: The thing is, life is long and camps change. I, for instance, am frequently reproached for having worked for the authorities. But I worked for a different government after all. Until 1999, it was Boris Yeltsin; that was a different government, the Foundation for Effective Politics. My ideological views—wanting to live just like in Europe—coincided with the aspirations of the government. That is, it wasn't me who defected to an opposition line; it was the government that performed a 180-degree turn.
Kurnikov: Let's recall. Back then, there was also a war with Chechnya—horrific, bloody, and ruthless to the civilian population. Why do people of the Yeltsin era recall it so calmly and make no attempt to process it?
Guelman: It absolutely needs to be articulated, but I want to say that during the Chechen war, we staged actions, even on Red Square. The government was different in another way too. Alexander Brener staged an action on the Lobnoye Mesto; he came out in athletic shorts and boxing gloves and shouted: "Yeltsin, come out!" The police picked him up, and students defended him. They held him in the police station for about four hours and let him go. He called me; I simply ended up with his belongings. Later, he burst into the Epiphany Cathedral, shouted "Chechnya, Chechnya," and threw everything around. Meaning, he inflicted far more damage than Pussy Riot, let's put it that way. They picked him up again, held him overnight, I arrived, paid a fine, and they released him. The government, of course, was committing a severe and bloody error. But the public that spoke out against it could speak out against it. I remember debates on Channel One between Yavlinsky and Chubais—Yavlinsky was against the war, Chubais was for the war. That was a different situation.
The Second Chechen War—here I can blame myself; we missed it. Back then, following the apartment bombings, it seemed to us that as long as there was stability, etc. When I say "defected," I include myself in a certain sense too. Yes, there were certain moments. In 2008, I was a member of the Public Chamber; we believed that Medvedev meant modernization, and so forth. I wasn't alone; it’s not like I am the sole idiot. It’s just that different people comprehend certain things at different times. There were people who, in 1999 when Putin was still an acting president, arrived from St. Petersburg and said: "What are you doing?" Back then, Nemtsov supported Putin. Yes, there were people who knew this 23 years ago.
Kurnikov: It's interesting that you said that for you, a highly vital point for accepting what was happening in Chechnya was the apartment bombings in Moscow. Today, looking back and recalling the "Ryazan sugar" incident, are you equally ready to definitively say it’s all conspiracy theory, or does nothing seem like a conspiracy theory anymore?
Guelman: Today, there are no illusions that the security services operate with their own methods, and for them, human lives are trivialities. Before this war began, nobody believed it would happen, so insane it seemed. American intelligence officers, through Biden, were stating it in plain text, yet nobody believed it; everyone was joking. I think even Lavrov didn't believe it when he laughed, saying: "Maybe we’ll start on the 17th, or maybe on the 18th, but look, we didn't start, so maybe you’ll stop listening to them." Nobody could believe it, and it is unbelievable. I have a timer that tracks how much time you spend with your phone. For the first two days, I couldn't tear myself away; I was with this phone 24 hours a day, I couldn't believe it—even within my own understanding of everything, given that I thought I understood everything about Putin.
Kurnikov: Let's try to understand what will happen after Putin, perhaps not even in a political sense. Will Russia exist after Putin?
Guelman: I think there will be several countries on the territory of Russia. I view this process as a natural occurrence. Everyone asks me this question; perhaps with you, I will articulate it clearly for the first time. When the Afghan war was going on, they introduced the Jackson-Vanik amendment, certain restrictions. These restrictions were lifted from Russia only 20 years later, already in the 2000s. Meaning, the sanctions currently being introduced, which are highly crushing for the country's economy, will not be lifted quickly. This means the economy will stagnate.
Now, imagine the Perm Krai, which possesses potash, oil, and so forth. If I do nothing else but simply vote to secede from Russia, I will emerge from under the sanctions. Just as the Jackson-Vanik amendment did not extend to Lithuania, Latvia, and all the other republics that seceded from the USSR; they extended only to the successor state. I envision the situation like this: Putin has weakened. The center tells the regions: "We cannot help you with anything." It turns out there is a simple way out—the Bashkir, Yakut, or Perm assembly announces that they are seceding. Immediately, the sanctions are lifted from them, their potash is purchased, their oil is purchased, and economic revival in parts turns out to be far speedier than for this monster that is entirely dying from sanctions.
Kurnikov: The economic motivation is clear. But frankly speaking, you worked with regional authorities; you know how they have literally degenerated.
Guelman: They won't have any other choice. They will face the alternative of either perishing or moving in this direction.
Kurnikov: They will face a different alternative. Either living in poverty as a country, while a narrow class, including the leaders of these regions, will live better than everyone else. Or what you said.
Guelman: Presumably, in some regions, it will be one way, and in others, it will be different. Let's imagine that the first two regions seceded and it worked out well for them. And after all, our populations live mixed together. All it takes is for two regions to show everyone else that they escaped this horror and are developing, and that will be a paramount stimulus for all the rest.
Kurnikov: That means civil war, Marat.
Guelman: Why? I don't see a civil war here.
Kurnikov: Chechnya wanted to secede, and Moscow showed—even a destitute Moscow, incapable of helping anyone—showed what it would do.
Guelman: Today, I think that at the moment this occurs, the Moscow government will be weak, that's first. Second, a highly vital point: the army, following its defeat in the Ukrainian war, will not be a resource for the central government. The thing is, they fought against Ukrainians; they were told these were bad people. But out there, the reality unfolds where people speak the same language, whereas here, it means fighting against your own. I think that just as everything changed with the start of the war, it will also change with the end of the war. There won't be this terrifying Putin anymore, as soon as this occurs. There will only be a weak government that will be thinking, around Putin's circle, where to flee. They aren't blocked everywhere; they have the opportunity to flee to Dubai or to Serbia. And in this situation, for the head of a region, for a governor who takes some responsibility for his population, this will be normal. They vote for secession, and immediately, the sanctions do not apply to you.
