No Reason to Cheer

By Jill Smolowe

$ In 1917 it took Russia 10 days to shake the world. Last week it took just one. Although the latest revolution unfolded peacefully at the ballot box, the aftershocks were no less unsettling than those triggered by the Bolshevik coup. Ultranationalist Vladimir Zhirinovsky, a golden-tongued demagogue who has been compared with Adolf Hitler, looked to have swept enough votes to establish a powerful bloc for his neofascist party in the State Duma, the lower house of the new Russian parliament.

Although Moscow watchers in the West played down the possibility of a revanchist Russia, panicky East Europeans renewed their entreaties for prompt entry into NATO. Zhirinovsky's past pledge to reincorporate Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania into Russia had leaders of the three Baltic republics huddling to shore up international support for their independence. As editorialists in the capitals of Western Europe and Asia warned of "dangerous fascism," Vice President Al Gore cast Zhirinovsky's views as "reprehensible and anathema to all freedom-loving people."

The squalls stirred by Russia's first real multiparty elections in 76 years may yet prove overblown. In reality, there were no decisive winners -- only losers. Of the eight parties that ran strongly enough in the 13-party free- for-all to secure seats in the Duma, none will enjoy anything near a majority. Zhirinovsky's misleadingly named Liberal Democratic Party stands to claim fewer than 80 seats in the 450-seat lower house of the new bicameral legislature, while reformers will occupy roughly twice that number. A preliminary count suggests that the lower house will be divided almost evenly among democrats, nationalists, Communists and independents -- thus assuring a future of gridlocked misery for the Deputies. Voters also found little cause to celebrate their grand experiment in democracy: nearly as many people stayed home as came out to vote.

As for President Boris Yeltsin, who called the elections last September before crushing a hard-line revolt in a bloody showdown with the former parliament, he is reaping precisely what he sowed. Having chosen to stand above the electoral frenzy and endorse no party, Yeltsin threw his energies into only one contest -- the referendum on a new draft constitution. Yeltsin's popular clout brought in a 58% vote of support for the constitution, which grants him sweeping powers, among them the right to disband the parliament. But the legislative races failed to produce a new guard of professionals who would put constitutional rule and economic reform back on a fast track. Instead he now faces a parliament that promises to be as belligerent as the one he dissolved -- only this time legislators enjoy the same electoral legitimacy that Yeltsin once claimed as uniquely his own.

In the U.S. Zhirinovsky's appeal was read much like the maverick presidential challenge mounted by Ross Perot in 1992. Zhirinovsky, too, campaigned skillfully as an outsider. He slung verbal Molotov cocktails at a system tainted by gridlock and inefficiency. And he aimed right at Russians' pocketbooks, denouncing the economic reforms that have hiked the price of metro tickets from five kopeks to 30 rubles, pushed middle-income households toward the poverty level and withheld wages from such key constituencies as the coal miners. But like the U.S. billionaire, Zhirinovsky had far more to offer in the way of firebrand bombast than coherent policy. "Zhirinovsky has no program and offers no alternatives," says Marie Mendras, a Russia specialist with the National Foundation of Political Science in Paris. "He simply reflects the mood of the population today, which does not want to see the continued deterioration of daily life."

Europeans, who are reminded daily by events in former Yugoslavia just how porous borders can be, were more inclined to see the parallels between Russia and Weimar Germany: vast economic dislocations, hyperinflation, national humiliation and a disaffected officer class. Of course, there are notable differences too. For all its economic troubles, Russia does not suffer the massive unemployment that plagued Germany just after World War I. And rather than being slapped with steep reparations, Russia is receiving aid from abroad.

While reform candidates shrank from direct contact with the people, offering only boring TV speeches and glum-faced round-table discussions on esoteric subjects during the election campaign, Zhirinovsky held regular Saturday- afternoon street-corner rallies drawing crowds that numbered in the thousands. For every constituency, he designed a tailor-made message. The military received pledges of a resurrected and expanded Russian Empire. Fixed- income pensioners and students were promised a decent standard of living. Crime-weary citizens were assured that gang leaders would be executed. Meanwhile, foreigners were offered up as scapegoats, and Jews were blamed for provoking anti-Semitism.

For those watching from beyond Russia's borders, Zhirinovsky's improbable but disquieting suggestions of "new Hiroshimas" and "Chernobyls" were enough to force a swift rethink of strategy. Last week Germans modified their enthusiastic calls for an eastward expansion of NATO, pushing instead for a "gradual and controlled" opening in order to assuage Russia's paranoid generals. In Washington the dominant refrain was to urge the U.S. Administration both to reduce its personal identification with Yeltsin and to broaden its contacts within Russia. And Westerners everywhere read the returns as proof positive that Yeltsin's personal popularity did not translate into broad-based support for Western-style, free-market economy.

Despite the global shudder, the betting is that Yeltsin will lurch forward with his economic and social agenda, his hand strengthened by new constitutional powers. Now, when legislators balk three times at his choice of a Prime Minister, he can call new elections. He can also select his government in sole consultation with the Prime Minister. That makes it unlikely that Yeltsin will offer a post to anyone in Zhirinovsky's camp. If Yeltsin doesn't like a piece of legislation, Deputies will have to corral a two-thirds vote in both chambers to override his veto.

While there was loose talk last week of coalition building, especially between the Communists and Zhirinovsky's followers -- a so-called Red-Brown coalition -- Russia's once daunting mastery of party discipline has gone the way of the honor guard at Lenin's tomb. Any alliances forged in coming days are likely to founder shortly after the Duma convenes in Moscow next month and Deputies get their first real taste of lawmaking. Despite the surprising showing by the Liberal Democrats, Zhirinovsky's power will be much diluted once the Duma gets down to business.

Chastened reformers have been swift to heed the electoral message that when Yeltsin does not offer his coattails, they risk a ride into oblivion. While Yeltsin remained silent after the electoral returns, his confidant Mikhail Poltoranin warned, "Fascism is creeping in the door opened by our divisions and our ambitions." Yegor Gaidar, who heads Russia's Choice, the largest reformist party, and is architect of Yeltsin's economic reforms, was more blunt, calling upon the three reformist parties to "lay aside all ambitions and disagreements" to forge a "united front."

Yeltsin will also have to rethink his strategy. The President can no longer afford to dissipate his energies by constantly squabbling with the parliament. A new posture of conciliation was hinted at last week when Kremlin spokesman Vyacheslav Kostikov publicly allowed that parts of the Liberal Democratic and Communist programs "quite correspond to the social aspects of the President's policies -- that is, the social policy of the state, patriotism, making Russia great."

The biggest clue as to whether Yeltsin is ready to move closer to the political center will come in his dealings with such radical reformers as Gaidar, Finance Minister Boris Fyodorov and Foreign Minister Andrei Kozyrev. The President may decide that the time has come to jettison all or some of them from his team in the interest of building a consensus for reforms that proceed at a slower pace and demand less exacting social sacrifices. Last week he signalled his anger at the nationalists' strong showing by firing his chief legal adviser and the chairman of a television company that broadcasts to most of the former Soviet states.

The West is already girding for a more aggressive Russian line in foreign policy. In recent weeks Moscow has toughened its expressions of concern about the shabby treatment of ethnic Russians in former republics. It has also signalled a vague willingness to retaliate if NATO decides to open its membership to the former Warsaw Pact states. That may mean the parliament balking at the provisions of the Treaty on Conventional Forces in Europe and SALT II. U.S. analysts warn that under the new parliament, Russia's arms sales abroad will rise, as will the budgets of the security and military services.

Perhaps most worrisome to Westerners is how military loyalties will divide if Yeltsin and Zhirinovsky bump heads. "Until now, the army has proved itself to be very mature," says German Foreign Minister Klaus Kinkel. "But after the latest events, we can only hope it stays that way." Strange as it may seem, Zhirinovsky's elevation to a Duma seat may be the best thing for Yeltsin: better to have "Vladimir the Terrible" spouting off in the parliament than rabble rousing in the streets. Then again, Zhirinovsky is now well poised to use his seat in parliament as a launching pad for his presidential ambitions.

With reporting by John Kohan/Moscow, J.F.O. McAllister/Washington, with other bureaus