Part Six: Lebed | Putin
Lebed
In the summer and fall of 1996, fate linked me to one of the Russian 'politicians in epaulets'. Actually, by that time he had removed his epaulets, but that didn't change his modus operandi. In his heart, Alexander Lebed remained a general.
I can still recall Lebed's powerful voice in August 1991, when he took my side against the coup leaders. He warned that my unarmed supporters could be easily defeated "by one tank salvo". But he stuck by me. Later, I began to understand that the booming voice and bear-like demeanour disguised the insecurity of an army man who was torn out of his usual element. The man plunged into politics as if making an attack. He scattered jokes and aphorisms. He demonstrated what a tough and unbeatable guy he was. But, at least he had a lively, honest human voice.
I sensed that this extraordinary man was searching for the confidence and security he had known in his old life. I sympathised with him. Journalists sensed this and hastened to tip Lebed as my successor. But, of course, there was no way he could become my successor.
On June 18, 1996, I signed the decree that made Lebed Secretary of the Security Council. The general had wide ranging responsibilities including national security and the war against crime and corruption. But the main issue remained Chechnya. I had promised to end the war. The entire republic was under the control of our troops. But the flames of conflict continued to burn.
The problem was that no one knew how to end the war. A start had to be made on negotiations but with whom? about what? on what legal basis? No one knew. Except Lebed. In total secrecy, he flew to Chechnya, where he met with Aslan Maskhadov, subsequently elected president of the Republic of Chechnya. The manoeuvre was effective. On August 14, Lebed had me sign the Decree on the Settlement of the Crisis in Chechnya. The Security Council assumed strategic leadership for the entire complex of Chechen problems. And two weeks later, terms for ending the war were signed in Khasavyurt. It was agreed that the question of the status of Chechnya would be postponed until the year 2001; there would be a complete withdrawal of forces; and joint commissions would be created. Essentially, Russia acknowledge the legitimacy of the self-proclaimed Chechen Republic while renouncing its aims to reassert control over the territory of Chechnya, to restore Russian law, and to disarm the unlawful army. The Russian military cried treason, the press called it a capitulation, the Duma said it was opportunism. But the Russian people greeted the settlement with enormous relief. They wanted peace.
We had yet to realise that there would be no peace, that the solution to the Chechnya crisis was no solution at all.
For a time, I was persuaded that Lebed would hasten the resolution of our most acute problems. Perhaps he was the young politician I had been looking for to lead Russia into the future. But Lebed soon put me straight. "I wouldn't make a good bureaucrat," he said. He found it impossible to stick by any of the rules of politics. At Lebed's insistence I fired the unpopular ministers who were responsible for the Chechen campaign. But even after Lebed had brought the Defence Ministry under his control, he didn't stop. He began an attack on the Ministry of the Interior and went after Minister Kulikov.
Finally, the raucous foreign policy statements began. Lebed threatened the countries of Europe with "economic sanctions" if NATO were expanded to the East (although no one knew what he had in mind). He said that even though they were rusty, the Soviet missiles were in full combat readiness. He demanded that the city of Sevastopol, located now on Ukrainian territory, be returned to Russia.
Everything that happened during those months at the Kremlin was closely connected to my heart disease. Lebed wasn't clattering so noisily around the corridors of power just by accident. With his entire demeanour, he was illustrating his point: the President is doing badly but I, the general-turned-politician, am ready to take his place.
On October 3, I signed a decree stripping Lebed of his powers over the military including the leadership of the presidential commission on military promotions and postings. Lebed could no longer manipulate the generals.
On October 7, Lebed went to a meeting at NATO headquarters in Brussels. He continued to make startling announcements. Meanwhile, I prepared for his resignation. The issue was not as simple as it might now seem. Lebed's authority in the armed forces and other power ministries was enormous. His credibility rating with the public was thirty per cent, the highest among politicians. He had the Defence Ministry almost in his pocket.
My administration was discussing the worst-case scenario of a military coup with paratroopers landing in Moscow. The paratroopers were the most mobile and well-trained type of ground troops. They idolised Lebed. But it was clear to me that Lebed would not dare do any such thing. I read the expression in his eyes. He had the look of a C student who had forgotten the lesson he had memorised and didn't know what to do.
Lebed sensed his dismissal coming on. Once he came to Gorki-9 without warning. He wasn't let in. He stood outside the gates for a long time, yelling at the guards. He began to call on the city telephone lines, shouting into the handset that he wasn't being allowed to meet the President. Lebed eventually went away, apparently to contrive some new plan of action.
The situation reached the boiling point. Chernomyrdin was forced to call an emergency meeting of the power ministries. Lebed was deliberately not invited. But Lebed found out about the meeting and crashed it. A fight began. Lebed shouted. The ministers were silent.
All of this went so far outside the bounds of the permissible that I was forced to sign a decree dismissing him that very day. Most likely Lebed should have been fired earlier. But strange as it may sound, Aleksandr Ivanovich Lebed reminded me of myself. Only he was a caricature of me, as if I were looking in a fun house mirror.
My attitude toward Lebed remained ambiguous. On the one hand, I was grateful to him for establishing a rapid peace in Chechnya. Although this peace was short-lived and piecemeal, I had neither the moral right nor the political backing to continue the war. On the other hand, Lebed turned out to be a very noisy and very weak politician. Perhaps it is our good luck. Today he is no longer a general but a governor. I would like to believe that life will teach him something. After all, he is quite a vivid, extraordinary person.
Putin
Putin was the man of my hopes. He was the man I trusted, to whom I could entrust the country.
August is the height of the vacation season in Russia. Putin's appointment would be like a bolt from the blue. Everything would heat up instantly. But we did have a few buffer weeks, weeks when people didn't really want to get involved in politics or spoil their holiday cheer.
I summoned Voloshin and told him to begin preparing the documents. Early the next morning, I met with Putin. I explained the state of affairs. A fierce battle loomed ahead. First, there was the election campaign. It would not be easy to keep the entire country under control. The northern Caucasus was very troubled. Some political provocations were possible in Moscow. It was hard to tell whether the current government would be able to keep inflation down. Everything, including the future of the country, depended on the behaviour of the new Prime Minister over the next weeks and months.
"I've made a decision, Vladimir Vladimirovich, and I would like to offer you the post of Prime Minister," I told Putin.
Putin looked at me attentively. He was silent.
"But that's not all," I continued. "Your stance must be restrained but firm. Only thus will you achieve authority and win the parliamentary elections."
"Whom will we rely upon in the elections?" asked Putin.
"I don't know," I replied frankly. "We'll create a new party. But the main thing is your own political resource: your image."
Putin reflected for a while. "I don't like election campaigns," he admitted. "I don't know how to run them."
"But you won't have to run the campaign. The main thing is your will and your confidence. Everything will depend on that. Are you ready?"
"I will work wherever you assign me," Putin replied with military terseness.
"And in the very highest post?"
Putin hesitated. I sensed that for the first time he truly realised what the conversation was about.
"I had not thought about that."
"Think about it. I have faith in you," I said.
After Putin left, I summoned Stepashin and Voloshin.
"Sergei Vadimovich," I said to Stepashin, "I have made a decision today to dismiss you. I will be proposing Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin to the Duma as Prime Minister. In the meantime I would ask you to approve the decree appointing Putin as first vice premier."
Stepashin became greatly agitated and turned red. "Boris Nikolayevich," he managed to stammer. "This decision … is premature. I believe it is a mistake."
"But the President has already made this decision," Voloshin said.
"Boris Nikolayevich, I really beg you. Speak to me in private."
I nodded, and Stepashin and I were left alone in the room.
Stepashin spoke for a long time. His leitmotif amounted to this: "I have always stuck with you and have never betrayed you." Although I knew this conversation was senseless, I couldn't interrupt Stepashin. He was right. He had been faithful. And there were no reasons to dismiss him – except one, the most important. He was not the right man for the current struggle. But how could I explain this to him?
I was losing patience. "All right, go now. I'll think about it," I said as calmly as possible.
I was in a terrible mood. I summoned Voloshin and said angrily, "What are you waiting for? Bring those decrees! You know my decision."
He brought the decrees for my signature.
"Tell Stepashin that he is dismissed. I do not want to meet with him again," I said.
Voloshin didn't argue with me, but he encouraged me to think about my decision over the weekend. "You know better than I that only the President can tell the Prime Minister he is dismissed," Voloshin said.
Of course Voloshin was right. I decided that I would inform Stepashin of my final decision on Monday morning.
The meeting took place at 8am on August 8 in Gorki-9. Putin, Aksyonenko, Stepashin and Voloshin were present. We all greeted Stepashin, but he would shake hands only with me. I did not mince words. "Sergei Vadimovich," I said to Stepashin. "I have signed the decrees on your dismissal and on the appointment of Putin as first vice premier."
Stepashin became flustered. "I will not authorise that decree," he said.
Aksyonenko intervened: "Stop it, Sergei Vadimovich!"
Putin spoke, "It's hard enough for Stepashin. Let's not make it worse."
"All right," Stepashin finally said. "I'll sign the decree. Out of respect for you, Boris Nikolayevich."
On August 9 I made a television address to the nation in which I named Vladimir Putin as my successor and as a worthy candidate for the presidential elections in 2000.
