General Popov (2): Corruption in Russia

Popular Popov

So: in a classic tale of Old Russia, the popular General Popov is being charged with extensive embezzlement – a misappropriated consignment of steel.   A good few years ago I spent a lot of time in Russia and had cause to observe, nay study (it was important) a great many Russian traits at first hand.  Anyone who thinks all humanity essentially behaves the same, and that attribution of national characteristics is rank stereotyping bordering on wickedness, is a fool.  

One of those traits was corruption at the day-to-day level.  You might even say I participated – although it was all perfectly legal from the PoV of US law, because I stuck to “expediting payments” [1] – for which one would get a receipt, since it was known that it needed to be claimed on expenses.  I came to the conclusion that Russian corruption was different in nature to, say, the Subcontinent variant.  In the latter, certain jobs are recognised to be opportunities for informal but systematic tax-farming, and are sought after, indeed competed for, accordingly.  “How much can you typically make on the side?” is a question a friend or family member will make of an acquaintance when discussing their work.  It is proactive, totally transactional, indeed quite businesslike and cheerful.

Russians are not quite like that.  First of all, we need to take a step back.  Russians are very convinced of their exceptional cultural superiority (and as regards basic education, literature and music, they are not wrong).  In that sense they are very nationalistic, but their primary loyalty is essentially to the local network / support system, their команда, of which they are an embedded member.  Everyone else is, more or less, fair game.  (You see how freely I generalise?)

The second aspect of their inner conviction – this one is a bit more difficult – is that their superiority means they shouldn’t have to raise a finger to get their due; it should just sort-of naturally accrue to them.  At the national level this explains why, instead of being outward-looking and purposeful as other “exceptionalist” nations tend to be, Russia is reactive and basically just resentful.  (Why doesn’t the world simply recognise their innate superiority, and award them their place in the sun / seat at top table?)

Here we get to the outright corruption.  When any jobsworth encounters, on his own patch, an outsider on a mission – a functionary from Moscow, a biznizman from abroad – he thinks: this chap has been sent to get something done.  He’ll perhaps be in big trouble back in Moscow if it doesn’t get it done (negative); he’ll maybe get a big bonus if he pulls off his deal (positive).  But me?  I get nothing.  And that’s not fair.  Resentment, never far from the surface, blossoms again: there’s nothing cheerful or proactive in this thought-process.  So: he’s going to have to cut me in: if there are any bonuses (positive or negative) associated with this, there needs to be something in it for me, too.  It’s only fair.

As I discovered in a very different context – the Army – notions of fairness constitute the highest law amongst the soldiery.  They’ll put up with almost anything, as long as by their lights it’s been fairly dished out.  Schoolchildren are the same: the Life Lesson of “life’s not fair” goes down very hard.  And so it is, by different lights, in Russia.  I’m the equal of you, indeed culturally I’m superior.  The apparent differences between us are mere happenstance.  It’s not fair that there should be bonus coming your way and not mine.  So pay some of it across.

The amazing thing is, Russians would readily accuse themselves of all of this!  And they know how it looks to outsiders!  They are not remotely godless (though some are atheists) or amoral (by their own lights); and their loyalty within the команда knows no bounds.  They just wish life would be better.  Spontaneously.  And in the meantime, fairness dictates you cut them in.  And cheating the outsider is, well, that’s what you do: the Man from Moscow or, in former times, the tribute-collecter from the Mongol horde.

Which brings us back to General Popov.  We’ve already said the truth about the embezzlement of the steel may never be known.  But every Russian thinks: yeah, but maybe …  Because any top-down initiative comes from somebody high-up, far away, who badly wants it done – and it comes with resources, too, some of which can be creatively liberated and shared.

Now obviously there are also worldscale kleptocrats in Russia, and gangsters, and highly organised middlemen who know how to fence that steel.  These aren’t the types I’m talking about.  It’s the soldiers who understand how maybe some steel went missing; but anyhow, Gen Popov is a good bloke.  And you know what? - some diesel and tyres went missing in my barracks last week, too …  As long as the rest of the команда gets a cut.

Finally on the good General:  one of the milbloggers wrote: 

Ah well, it seems there was no commissar to be there for him, like Furmanov was for Chapaev – to take him by the sleeve and stand in his way.  “Ivan Ivanovitch, don’t do it!  It’s wrong and it’s not going to do any good.  Here’s your glass, here’s mine.  We’ll knock them back in one, we’ll sleep, and tomorrow we’ll be back in battle.”

This is the classic Russian way of making a potentially contentious point: you recount an incident from an impeccable source (a well-known poem, novel[2], or in this case, the film Chapaev, said to be Putin’s favourite) that makes your point for you.  Even a really good bloke, an authentic hero, might sometimes be tempted off the straight and narrow.  With a bit of luck, there’s someone in the team to head him off.  But hey, we’re all human.

ND

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[1] “This is the traffic police.  Your new car has arrived at the Moscow city boundary.  Its paperwork seems to be in order.  Would you like to take delivery of it now, or in 6-7 weeks?  Now?  Ok, $50.“

[2] Remember that fine Russian education.