Echo of Moscow, “Personally Yours” (April 2024)
A. Akhmadiev: Good afternoon!
M. Guelman: Good afternoon!
Akhmadiev: Marat Aleksandрович, we probably have one overarching topic today. You likely already suspect what I am talking about. It is the film “The Traitors” by Alexei Navalny’s team. I saw that you watched it; you wrote about it on your Twitter. I would like to go directly through the points that Pevchikh raises in the first and second episodes, though we will likely focus more on the second episode today. Much has already been said about the first, but the second came out less than 24 hours ago and already has over a million views.
In short, it covers the loans-for-shares auctions and the 1996 presidential election. Back then, you were very close to those processes and were one of the organizers—if we can call you that—of the political events Pevchikh talks about.
Let us start with the loans-for-shares auctions. Pevchikh calls them "backroom privatization" and says everything was distributed in advance, that it was all a facade. What do you remember about those auctions, and what is your take on them?
Guelman: You know, I had absolutely nothing to do with them. To be honest, I wasn't even aware they were happening at the time. Back then, I was focusing exclusively on new, revolutionary art. But I was directly involved in the 1996 election. So, as far as the loans-for-shares auctions are concerned, I was just a spectator like anyone else. That imagery, of course, absolutely stunned me. On the whole, I agree that it was corruption bordering on criminality. There might be certain explanations for it. At least back then, during Gaidar's time, the rationale was that the method of privatization didn't matter; what mattered was transferring inefficient state enterprises into private hands as quickly as possible. The belief was that under private ownership, they would operate more efficiently and become part of the new economy.
I did not participate, and I am not competent enough to say whether Gaidar was right... But overall, the entire saga is probably one of the ugliest things to happen in my lifetime, to put it that way.
The only thing is, of course, everything is interconnected. But believing that this exact moment marked the beginning of a dark destiny for the Russian Federation—one that led to the 1996 election, which in turn led to Putin—strikes me as somewhat inaccurate.
I knew a man named Gennady Burbulis. He was Yeltsin's advisor for a long time and a friend of my father's, so we talked a lot. Burbulis believed that the definitive problem was that Yeltsin failed to sign a law on lustration. Burbulis had actually slipped that draft law onto his desk, and it sat there for several days while Yeltsin deliberated. But because it outlined lustrations for both security services personnel and those who held high positions within the Central Committee of the Communist Party, Yeltsin didn't sign it. Burbulis believed that this was the exact moment everything went wrong.
Some people believe—like Mikhalkov or Pozner, they've said something to this effect—that it all started when Russia adopted Orthodoxy instead of Catholicism. I am intentionally adding a bit of absurdity here...
Akhmadiev: That is a rather radical point of view.
Guelman: Yes, everything is interconnected. Everything stems from something else. But this view that everything was fine... I lived in the Soviet Union. It was horrific. But to think that everything was fine until the loans-for-shares auctions, and then everything went bad—that view strikes me as superficial.
But I repeat, as a spectator, that entire plot outraged me just the same. And I developed a strong prejudice against all the characters in that story.
As an aside, I will mention that this was painful for me because just recently, on March 17, our organization was one of the three co-organizers of the "Noon Against Putin" mega-rally. I even considered it a bit of a personal achievement that Yulia Navalnaya and Mikhail Khodorkovsky met in Berlin on March 17. They didn't embrace, but they spoke very warmly. I hoped it would mark the beginning of a unification of opposition forces, and I was very happy about it.
When I watched this film, the first thing I realized was that my utopia had apparently come to an end. So yes, it hit a personal nerve. Not in the sense that I know anything special about the loans-for-shares auctions, but precisely because I feel the timing chosen for this film was highly unfortunate.
Akhmadiev: Marat Aleksandрович, forgive me for interrupting, but I would like to clarify. You say your utopia is no longer possible after seeing this. What exactly do you mean: has your attitude toward Mikhail Khodorkovsky changed, or is it that this film sows discord?
Guelman: No, the issue is that in order to defeat Putin, we need to open a second front. The protest community—the part that remains silent in Moscow and the part that speaks out quite loudly in Europe—needs to unite and act as a single force. We are expected to do this. I was in Brussels recently, and everyone keeps saying it. Europe is constantly telling us: "We want to see a unified picture of who we are talking to, a single opposition to Putin, which we are ready to view as a prototype of a future government." In short, it all comes back to the opposition being unable to unite.
I had this utopia that from March 17 onward, for the first time—since our project was endorsed by Alexei Navalny and the FBK—they spoke to each other amicably, and I thought it was possible. After this film, I think it might still happen, but only with great difficulty. I didn't get that impression after the first episode, but it appeared after the second.
Akhmadiev: Fascinating. Marat Aleksandрович, you say you didn't dive deep into the loans-for-shares auctions, but look at how it is presented in the film...
Guelman: I didn't even own a privatization voucher.
Akhmadiev: These two events are interwoven in the film. One stems from the other, if I understood correctly: that the people who obtained—effectively appropriated, as Maria Pevchikh puts it—these enterprises and siphoned money didn't want to lose what they had stolen. That is why they united around Boris Yeltsin, pumping a billion dollars into his election campaign. You did encounter this firsthand. Did you see this conspiracy of businessmen at the moment you entered that campaign?
Guelman: It was called the “Semibankirshchina” (the rule of the seven bankers). Yes, absolutely. It's just that, from my perspective, a very vital point is omitted there. For example, why did I participate in that campaign? I didn't receive money from the loans-for-shares auctions, I wasn't a beneficiary of that plot, but I was genuinely terrified of the USSR returning. Everything I had, I got from Gorbachev, from the collapse of the Union. And here lies a certain stretch in the film—perhaps due to a lack of knowledge of how things actually happened. Prior to the 1996 presidential election, there was the 1995 parliamentary election. It was already obvious then that the Communists were gaining momentum and that Zyuganov was far more popular than Yeltsin. I witnessed the discussions firsthand, and that is actually how my involvement in the campaign began—figuring out how to prevent the Communists from taking power.
I am not saying it was the right thing to do. Today, I believe it was a mistake. But I want to explain that the root of this mistake was not the greed of ten individuals, but the anxiety of a massive number of people who feared a return to communism above all else.
It so happened that I participated in putting pressure on Zyuganov in 1995. I was a man of leftist convictions, as many artists are, and Zyuganov tried to attract the Left to his campaign in 1995. We held discussions. Artists and others proposed a condition to him: "Let’s rename the Communist Party to the Socialist Party." This was a significant, crucial gesture. If you truly don't want to return to the past, if you claim to be socialists—in Europe, socialists are a perfectly conventional political movement. Very serious people backed this proposal. He flatly refused. That was exactly when I met Sergey Glazyev; in fact, Glazyev was one of the people imposing those kinds of conditions on Zyuganov. Zyuganov refused to give in precisely because he was clinging not just to the Soviet electorate, but to the Soviet idea. For his political goals, he needed exactly the return of the USSR.
Akhmadiev: Maria Pevchikh states in her film that he did not want to bring back the USSR in the form it used to exist.
Guelman: I don't know what she bases that on. As I said, I didn't participate in the loans-for-shares auctions or the Semibankirshchina. But I was quite actively involved in that specific plot with Zyuganov. In negotiations with him. We met with him. It did not look the way it is shown in the film—like some enlightened communist speaking at a global forum. It was entirely different.
This doesn't mean I support it, or that we were right to break the independent media in the process. That was a colossal mistake. But I am trying to explain that this wasn't a group of malevolent individuals; it was a fairly wide circle of people who sincerely feared the return of communism more than anything.
I recently obtained Moldovan citizenship. When I arrived there and spoke with the current president, among others, I saw that yes, a communist, Vladimir Voronin, had won the election there at one point. But free media and fair elections were preserved. He even won a second time. But after him, a socialist won, and now democrats are in power.
So, I admit that what we did was a mistake. But drawing an equal sign between the people who made that mistake and the people currently waging a war—that strikes me as an incorrect construct.
Akhmadiev: If I may, let us focus on the specifics. First, since you conducted negotiations with Zyuganov, I would love to hear details. Based on what specific statements or actions of his did you conclude that he wanted a return to the Soviet Union rather than some advanced form of communism?
Guelman: Zyuganov is a highly experienced apparatchik. When he traveled to a global forum, he said exactly what people at a global forum wanted to hear. Depending on who he spoke with, he tailored his words. We wanted concrete steps, not words. Because he would say one thing to grandmothers, and then tell you: "Look, I only said that for them, you understand, that's what they want to hear."
There was a very simple step we wanted him to take as a signal that he didn't intend to drag us back to the USSR. The party—which was expanding at the time, absorbing various nationalist-patriotic forces—should be renamed and become a socialist party. If that had happened, it would have been a direct signal that they were moving in a different direction. Believe me, both Berezovsky and Gusinsky, along with most members of the Semibankirshchina, participated in those talks in one way or another. If that metaphorical renaming had occurred, they wouldn't have attempted to resurrect a half-dead Yeltsin. They didn't want that return either.
The view presented in this film—that they were strictly defending their own assets—undoubtedly holds some truth. But I want to say, first, it wasn't only that. Second, I was defending my own assets too, you see.
Akhmadiev: What do you mean by "your own"?
Guelman: My new life. For instance, the Soviet abolition of the propiska (residence permit system) was a monumental event for me. I was able to move to Moscow from Chisinau. Before that, I couldn't, because I was registered in Chisinau. Everything I left behind in the past was Soviet, so it mattered deeply to me. I was doing what I loved, and I too terrified of a return to the USSR.
My point is that it is unclear what this complimentary depiction of Zyuganov in the film is based on.
Akhmadiev: I will counter that. Personally, it is unclear to me what your position is based on—the assumption that Zyuganov would inevitably bring back the Soviet Union, given the path the country was already on.
Guelman: I repeat, prior to the presidential election, there was the 1995 Duma election; it was all out there. There was more than enough evidence.
Akhmadiev: What do you mean specifically?
Guelman: Revanchism, a return to the USSR. Criticism of Gorbachev and Yeltsin for the collapse of the country. Reunifying the country... There was a vast amount of material there—not just for one film, but enough to compile five films.
Furthermore, there were specific socialists who tried to merge into that movement but imposed their own conditions. European-style leftists were actually more dangerous to him than liberals.
It is crucial to note that I am not justifying anyone; I am simply saying the situation was different. In that environment, it is entirely possible that the Semibankirshchina was protecting its sham privatization—because as I understand it, back then it wasn't even privatization yet, it was strictly a pledge. That is completely possible. But for the sake of fairness, I am saying that the majority of those who participated in that campaign, and even those who bent the rules, did so not to protect illicit income, but to protect the post-Soviet life they enjoyed. Myself included.
But these are nuances; one can argue about them. In the end, someone could release another film focusing strictly on Zyuganov. The same goes for the plot surrounding Aleksandr Lebed; he fit into this sequence perfectly.
Akhmadiev: We will definitely return to Lebed.
Guelman: The emotion in my stance is not tied to that. It is tied precisely to this unfortunate timing, which destroys the hope for unification.
My own career is developing quite successfully right now. I have a large family, and I am happy. Fundamentally, my participation in this so-called political activity is driven by a sense of guilt, which I have spoken about extensively. There are two major chapters, and one of them is 1996. I am trying to do something to make amends. But engaging in something completely futile is impossible. When you see that what you are trying to build is easily destroyed—and destroyed not by Putin, but by people on our own side of the front line—it stings. That is where my reaction comes from.
If we imagine a scenario where Putin is already gone, overthrown, and democratic elections are underway with different forces participating—if one political force makes a film like this against another, that is normal. Yes, it’s biased and sharpened to highlight a specific angle. But the current situation is entirely different. In this reality, I believe this film... though I could be wrong. Perhaps once everyone has spoken their piece, they will arrive at a common denominator. Maybe what prevented them from coming to an agreement was what each was harboring inside. I might be wrong. But today, I feel it is harmful.
Akhmadiev: I also think it is poorly timed. But still, since the dialogue has started, people want answers. Look at me: I was born in the '90s, meaning I couldn't perceive that reality adequately or fully back then. For the younger generation, my peers, it is very important to get these answers to perhaps apply this experience in the future, if possible—though I honestly doubt it. Let us try to go through the specifics. People are asking. You mentioned the blackening of Zyuganov. How did that happen?
Guelman: Volodya Yakovlev, the editor-in-chief of Kommersant at the time, published a newspaper called “God Forbid!” (Ne Day Bog!). It was produced by Kommersant, but distributed for free into millions of mailboxes. That was the primary vehicle for delivering this information. As for the content and how it was done—well, it followed all the laws of black PR. There were falsifications; there was everything. That newspaper was a combat leaflet.
The absolute impunity—because it was done under the president's cover—apparently resulted in it facing a grand total of zero lawsuits. In a normal environment, that newspaper would have been shut down. Most of its authors wrote under pseudonyms, by the way.
Second, it was about capturing our existing fears and exaggerating them, painting a picture... ration cards... I would say that entire campaign was terribly grotesque. If it weren't for our genuine fear as people who had only recently escaped the USSR, it would look bizarre today. I think people today wouldn't even believe that anyone swallowed it. But that was the second line.
The third was the role of Lebed and Glazyev, whose ideologies were close to the left, populist wing. Lebed was populist; Glazyev was left wing. Initially, they tried to reach an agreement with Zyuganov during the Duma election. They were the ones imposing that final condition about renaming it a socialist party. When Zyuganov refused, they ran independently and kept going. Lebed ran as a presidential candidate. On paper, that line is legal; there is nothing illegal about it. Using a spoiler candidate is a standard political technology worldwide. But you cannot call it a fair technology—it is a legal, unfair technology.
But the main thing, if we look not at the election itself but at how the rot started from that election, is the media landscape. During the election, the authorities grew so accustomed to manually controlling the media that once the election ended, they could no longer relinquish that control. The difference between Yeltsin and Putin lies in just one thing: Yeltsin paid the media owners for this control, whereas Putin simply stepped in, seized everything, and threw the owners out or imprisoned them. That's the truth.
Akhmadiev: Marat Aleksandрович, Lebed's campaign. Forgive me for asking such direct, simple questions, but your answers are complicating the narrative. Tell me, whose project was Lebed? Whose project was Lebed's campaign initially?
Guelman: What do you mean, whose project? Generally, it was Soskovets, but Soskovets was part of that alternative headquarters group—the siloviki (security officials). There was a unified front after the 1995 Duma election; everyone was thinking exclusively about how to keep Zyuganov from winning. There was an option—promoted by Gusinsky, I believe—focusing on Yavlinsky. Yavlinsky actually had a decent standing back then. I don't recall the exact figures, but it looked something like: Zyuganov at 28%, Yavlinsky at 9%, Yeltsin at 2%.
Akhmadiev: So Pevchikh’s thesis that Boris Yeltsin was unelectable is true?
Guelman: I repeat, if we hadn't managed to turn that campaign into a "No Return to the USSR" campaign, there is zero doubt he was unelectable. But because it was turned into a "No Return to the USSR" campaign by hook or by crook, through the breaking of the media machinery, it turned out the way it did.
While the first round yielded highly dubious results, when Lebed endorsed Yeltsin in the second round—framed by the choice of either returning to the USSR or keeping Yeltsin—the outcome was what it was. There were "red regions" back then too.
I have friends who later formed a political party called "The First Free Generation." I met them in 1998—the Shmelev brothers. A generation emerged that looked at us as un-free, because our actions were entirely hardwired by this anti-communism.
This needs to be unpacked and understood. But it seems to me the passion of the film is not about understanding. For the most part—I didn't participate, but most of my colleagues say that regarding the loans-for-shares auctions, even though it was horrific, everyone knew about it anyway. Okay. The passion of the film feels like a premature election campaign for a future State Duma of the Russian Federation after... Well, it's disappointing.
But as I speak to you now—this film came out just recently—I think it might not be all that fatal. In the end, it will trigger a discussion genre. Everyone will speak their piece, present their hypothesis, refine the details, bring new information forward, and perhaps the resulting coordination will actually prove effective.
Akhmadiev: Marat Aleksandрович, when Yeltsin was being promoted, was it strictly through media influence, or were there actual electoral falsifications like ballot-stuffing?
Guelman: Ballot-stuffing is hard to verify. Overall, I would put it this way: the general atmosphere was "do not fear the courts." The same applied to that newspaper, and I think the same applied to the governors. There were bound to be certain falsifications in the regions, but we don't know for a fact. What matters is that it fostered the exact atmosphere we see today in its pure form—the notion that you can break the rules as long as you break them in the "right" direction.
Akhmadiev: Where did that directive come from? Did you hear it, did you understand it came from the very top?
Guelman: Naturally.
Akhmadiev: From whom, Yeltsin?
Guelman: It was a given reality, something felt empirically. You just saw it: take two identical violations. Here—nothing, and there—the full weight of the law. I don't know, I don't have a definitive answer. Nobody handed me any direct orders. You just knew that certain violations would be overlooked. Journalists could afford not to double-check their information because they knew Zyuganov wouldn't sue them, and if he did, he would lose. I am trying to recall now if there were explicit conversations about it. But there was a clear sense that we were fighting to avoid going backward. You permitted yourself things you wouldn't permit in any other situation, and you got away with it. That's probably how it was...
Akhmadiev: Didn't you feel, then, that you were defending not just your own worldview—ensuring the Soviet Union wouldn't return—but also someone else's capital, the capital of that Semibankirshchina?
Guelman: No. I had a different focus. I was defending what I saw as Russia's entry into the open world. I had something to protect besides someone else's interests or money. I had my own concrete, equally important agenda. The fact that a person protects themselves or their personal interests is not a crime in itself. The crime begins when you break the system for it. There were free media outlets, and you broke them to protect your interests. That is bad. But protecting your freedom to do what you love, to travel the world, look at art, bring it to Russia, bring Russian art to the world, live where you want, in the cities you want—I think that was no less important to me than Khodorkovsky's millions were to him. Why should I defend someone else's millions? I was defending my own lifestyle.
Akhmadiev: And so you chose a path of deceiving the people to bring them into a free world?
Guelman: That's true. I repeat, I am not justifying what we did back then. Moreover, it's not even just about us committing a deception; it's about the fact that this genuinely cleared a path for Putin to easily concentrate all media in his hands. I am trying to explain myself, not justify myself—that is an important distinction.
Akhmadiev: The main thing is that you understood. I am not demanding a justification either—just an explanation. Because we have Pevchikh's view, and we have yours.
Guelman: I am explaining that the threat appeared so immense to us that the end justified the means—we thought we would be vindicated later.
Akhmadiev: When did you realize it was time to stop playing this artificial game, when were you ready to let the situation develop naturally? Because in the end, it looked like once the deception started, it never stopped.
Guelman: That realization happened for everyone at a different time. It’s an interesting question—when. I believe different people arrive at this understanding due to specific events or circumstances in their lives. Their eyes open, including to themselves. As early as 1999, there was a moment when the Union of Right Forces (SPS)—I was managing the campaign for Kiriyenko, Nemtsov, and Khakamada—and Nemtsov said: "We are going to support Putin in this next presidential election." At that exact moment, Gaidar said: "Some guys want to talk to you. You absolutely must meet them." We met them; it was a delegation from St. Petersburg. They weren't prophets, but overall, they said almost the exact same things about Putin that we know today.
Akhmadiev: Georgy Satarov recounted the same story, if I'm not mistaken.
Guelman: Yes, Satarov participated. This was in 1999. But we decided they were simply too shell-shocked by the fact that Putin was a KGB alumnus. We ignored it. In 1999, on Echo of Moscow, Nemtsov stated for the first time: "We support Putin."
So there were people who understood it in 1999. I don't recall anyone who understood it in 1996. I don't remember anyone of our ideological, liberal-democratic views coming to us back then and saying, "Why are you doing this?" But in 1998 and 1999, they emerged—"The First Free Generation."
As for me personally, in 2004, I initially resolved to step away from any political activity altogether. In 2005, I mounted a project called “Russia-2.” It was the first exhibition that the State Duma explicitly demanded to ban. At that exact time, they simultaneously demanded to ban Sorokin's opera “Rosenthal's Children” at the Bolshoi Theater—an opera based on his libretto—and my exhibition. “Russia-2” was precisely about the fact that two Russias already existed: Putin's political, oil-driven Russia, and our Russia. But back then, it was still expressed through the language of art. I never engaged in... But in 2004, I realized things were going the wrong way, and I wanted to stay away.
Akhmadiev: Marat Aleksandрович, but by then the Communists were already defeated. Why did it take so much time for you and others? The Communists were nowhere on the horizon—who or what were you fighting against?
Guelman: There were different paths in life. Nobody was fighting anyone. Until Khodorkovsky's arrest, I periodically interacted with Alexander Voloshin. My relations with the Kremlin were essentially relations with Voloshin. Once Voloshin left, all of that ceased. In 2002, I left the Foundation for Effective Politics.
Akhmadiev: And became one of the executives at Channel One.
Guelman: Yes. For me, it was important that I stopped being... The FEP transformed from a commercial organization providing expert and intellectual services into an arm of the Presidential Administration, and I had nothing left to do there.
I had several turning points. 2004, when I left the television channel and said I wouldn't return. 2012, during the presidential election when I began defending Pussy Riot and entered a direct conflict with the state. While I had merely distanced myself maximally prior to that, 2012 marked a direct conflict.
There are people who realized it earlier, in 2007 after Putin's Munich speech. He spelled out everything people say about him today. Kasparov is a prime benchmark because he possesses an exceptionally sharp analytical mind, and he realized it in 2007. Many realized it in 2011–2013; the Bolotnaya protests were a turning point for many, I think. Naturally, for many, it was the annexation of Crimea in 2014. And for others, it was February 24, 2022.
I want to say that all these people—both those who knew it in 1998 and those who only realized it in 2022—are on our side of the front line. To have any chance of victory, we need to coordinate all of these people.
Akhmadiev: What kept you connected to the political elite until such a relatively late phase of Putin's rule? What exactly?
Guelman: Connected to what? Until 2012?
Akhmadiev: In terms of ties to the authorities and the political elite. Until 2004...
Guelman: It requires sorting out. In 2008, there were certain illusions tied to Medvedev—Perestroika, modernization... Prior to Medvedev, I wasn't hanging around. In 2004, I declared my departure and didn't engage in any way. I focused on exhibitions. I actually lived in New York for a time and curated three large exhibitions. I lived in India for a year and a half. Naturally, I couldn't envision such horrific transformations back then. I wanted to stay away and focus on my profession. The direct answer is: what kept me going was my highly successful career in art.
But in 2008, this modernization concept... it seduced me. I was invited to give a lecture at the Higher School of Economics, and they displayed a chart: "Technological Modernization vs. Modernization According to Guelman." What I was doing in the Perm Krai was humanitarian modernization. It fascinated me deeply; I believed in it. I had an excellent partner—Oleg Chirkunov, the governor of the Perm Krai. I truly believed we would succeed in building something. A person can be mistaken, after all...
Akhmadiev: Here is a question from the audience. You mentioned a group of Gaidar's associates from St. Petersburg who tried to talk you out of supporting Vladimir Putin in 1999. What arguments did they bring forward?
Guelman: They spoke about his personal qualities. These were people from St. Petersburg who knew him personally. They talked about his traits—that he was malicious, a KGB operative tied to the security services and organized crime. They said terrifying things about him. Paradoxically, almost everything they said was confirmed later. But to us back then, it sounded unbelievable.
Akhmadiev: And you didn't even look into it?
Guelman: The situation was... Nemtsov announced we would support him, and two days later the agreement was signed... It was a situation where you could only double-check with your own gut. We didn't possess the resources to launch an investigation... Those people appeared to us as... you know, there was a term back then: “dem-shiza” (democratic eccentrics).
Akhmadiev: Fascinating. Did Yeltsin know about this—what you were told about Putin?
Guelman: No, I don't think so. It was specifically... Gaidar requested it, the SPS... although Gaidar didn't run in the election because he was unpopular, he was a key figure backing our bloc. He viewed the SPS as the successor to the Democratic Party he had established and led back when he was prime minister. It was Gaidar's explicit request to us. About seven people participated in that meeting, including Satarov.
Akhmadiev: So Yeltsin simply wasn't told about Vladimir Putin?
Guelman: I don't know. None of us had direct access to Yeltsin. That was handling by the SPS...
Akhmadiev: I understand. Pevchikh states that one of the main links to the president was Tatyana Dyachenko. Was she in contact with you at that time?
Guelman: Tatyana Dyachenko was in 1996... while what I am recounting occurred in 1999. Tatyana Dyachenko was connected not to the SPS, but to Unity, which was created by Berezovsky. That was the party of power. The SPS consisted of democrats; we were a group that joined in later. The election was already a done deal by then. That was a political move by Nemtsov, by the way—a move that also carried tragic consequences. Because it was precisely as a result of the democrats supporting Putin that the "syslibs"—systemic liberals—emerged in his team: Nabiullina... all of them. Unfortunately, these people still play a vital role in keeping the regime resilient; the systemic liberals maintain the financial foundation and the structural framework of this regime.
I would say that while the first instance in 1996 was an error—meaning we miscalculated, a form of irresponsibility—we were confident that nothing horrific could happen, that the democratic track was secure. Furthermore, the people we interacted with from that camp, from the administration, assured us that Putin was completely under the control of "The Family." They said his personal traits didn't matter—he would do exactly what he was told. That was the situation.
Akhmadiev: A final question from the chat. It concerns Mikhail Khodorkovsky and many other prominent figures who are currently in opposition to the Putin regime—and you are among them. A listener asks: how can we let these exact people near power after everything that happened? How can we trust you, Marat Aleksandрович—you, Khodorkovsky? How can we trust you with the future changes in Russia? What if you come to power and do the exact same thing, what if you deceive us again? You did it once, so you can do it again...
Guelman: I agree. But my position—and I don't know if others share it—is that in order to break this regime, everyone must unite. People ask me: "Will you become a future minister...?" I say: no way, absolutely not! I do not want to participate in governance ever again, because at the very least, I am discredited by having acquaintances in both camps. There are different stages. There is the immediate task of stopping the war with Ukraine. Frankly, I wouldn't participate in anything if Putin's rule weren't causing deaths every single day. So the question is valid. For my part, I pledge that I will not run for or accept any elected or appointed positions. I believe none of us from that era should enter government. But today, when the task is to break this system and guide the country to its first fair elections, I believe everyone must unite.
Akhmadiev: Marat Aleksandрович, this is not a reproach, but an attempt to understand. Why are you, Khodorkovsky, and others needed for this today? Why are you needed right now? How do you see this goal?
Guelman: We possess certain resources—public resources, the resource of our time and our capacity for action. We are ready to deploy them. I travel extensively now; I was in Portugal and Spain, meeting with relocated citizens of the Russian Federation who are trying to be active. They constantly mention that too few people turn out. Fundamentally, this is a situation where everyone who is ready must unite.
I see that Khodorkovsky accomplishes a great deal. If I step aside, it might not be a massive loss, but if Khodorkovsky steps aside, the media outlets he finances will vanish, and the “Ark” (Kovcheg) project will vanish. He saves a vast number of people. The negotiations he conducts with Brussels, where he commands a reputation, would cease. In short, now is not the time to discard available resources.
