L’Express: Twice, in 2001, then in 2008, you wrote for Vladimir Putin. Concretely, how did it go?
Abbas Gallyamov: I entered the Kremlin administration at the age of 29. In the early 2000s, the atmosphere was creative, lively and joyful. We even had parties. Our leaders closed their eyes, but in other departments, such as the Department of Internal Policy, discipline was very strict. Administratively, my position was low. Even though I wrote Vladimir Putin’s speeches, the salaries were very low, like in the days of Boris Yeltsin. In 2002, they suddenly increased. Employees began to receive large bonuses. In some departments, they received envelopes of cash. Everyone knows that Putin pays well those who are loyal to him.
Today, the atmosphere has changed dramatically. It is forbidden to resign, it is forbidden to travel abroad. When an important vote is planned, the deputies must be present. Any absence for medical reasons is subject to verification with the CHU [l’hôpital qui dessert le Parlement et l’administration présidentielle]. Antidepressants and alcohol are in vogue. No one looks to the future, because it is frightening. Everyone looks down. Projects that can be postponed. There is a complete abandonment of grand strategy, everyone is only focused on small technical matters. It’s sinister.
How have Putin’s public speeches evolved since the beginning of his “reign”?
As soon as he came to power, Putin distinguished himself from Boris Yeltsin by his ability to formulate his own ideas. For him, the text is rather a point of reference, he is able to detach himself from it. Besides, he rarely reads them in advance. This is a fundamental difference with Dmitry Medvedev, for example. When he was president, the latter attached great importance to his speeches, he corrected them frequently. It wasn’t his personality, it was his status. Medvedev was, as a leader, only a nominal figure. He was allowed to speak, but he had to coordinate his actions with Putin. That’s why he worked so hard on his texts: they had to be convincing, because he had no right to deviate from them.
In the year, there were, at the time, three or four speeches that Putin carefully prepared. In particular those that he held before the Federal Assembly and that he delivered at the Munich Security Conference. I also remember that in 2001 he prepared his speech in the Bundestag very carefully. It was his first trip to Germany. He had made many corrections to the text. One of them particularly marked me. In the margin, he had written: “Please insert here a quotation from German romantic literature of the 19th century”. There were five of us working on the text and I remember the general surprise: what a president he was! After the invasion of Ukraine, on the other hand, he had nothing more to say, his speeches became empty. Remember his long speech at the signing of the agreements on the annexation of the four Ukrainian regions by the Russian Federation or the one he gave during the last Victory Day parade on May 9: he s is content to vociferate against “Western colonialism”…
Why such a void?
Speeches are just words, a tool that is secondary to politics itself. If politics leads to defeat, no amount of rhetoric can hide it. It’s like trying to cure cancer with cosmetics. No one in the Kremlin can admit defeat, which leads Putin to engage in abstract musings about the nature of good and evil. But the president is not a philosopher, we expect concrete things from him! Previously, Putin provided this clarity, but he has stopped doing so. And people feel that we are leading them by the nose, that we are selling them window dressing.
But no one questions his presence at the head of the Kremlin…
To start talking about a successor before Putin himself talks about it would be seen as a sign of disloyalty. And those who discuss it remain extremely cautious! No one ever speaks openly of defeat. Such formulations are dangerous, so it is said instead: “It would be so nice if he ruled forever, but what if the leader falls ill?”
There were rumors that businessman Yuri Kovalchuk [surnommé le “banquier personnel de Poutine”, NDLR] would have discussed with Putin the candidacy of Sergei Kirienko [éphémère Premier ministre en 1998, aujourd’hui premier adjoint du chef de l’administration présidentielle, NDLR]. But he would have been severely reprimanded for it. It is also said that the oligarch Igor Sechine is betting on Dmitry Patrushev, Minister of Agriculture and son of Nikolai Patrushev, the head of the FSB.
Now, if the Ukrainians enter Crimea and defeat becomes evident, the elites will hold the president to account. Crimea is the symbol of Putin’s entire reign, its peak. When all this collapses, Putin will also collapse like a house of cards. The elites could then openly say, “It’s time to consider a successor.”
Is a civil war possible?
Since the incursion of the Russian Volunteer Corps into the Belgorod region, and since a hundred people occupied the local municipality for more than twenty-four hours, I do not exclude that a revolution will occur on the periphery of power , as in China and Cuba, and not in its center, that is, the Kremlin. The scenario could be the following: the revolutionaries take control of a remote province, they anchor themselves there, create new institutions. Two states would then appear on Russian territory – one with Putin, the other without him. The population will not wage a partisan war against these revolutionaries. People have already understood that Putin destroyed with his own hands what he once built. It brought back the 1990s, or even worse. Few people will want to defend it. Of course, armed clashes are possible. But I can’t imagine a full-scale war like the one in 1917.
How do you interpret recent statements by Prigozhinincreasingly critical of power?
The system is disintegrating. Prigojine feels that he is collapsing, there is no longer any need to respect protocols, respect the hierarchy.
Why does Putin tolerate this?
Someone has to fight! All of Putin’s power rests on the idea that he is a strong leader. If he loses the war, his legitimacy will be nil. Prigojine fights as best he can, while the generals – Gerasimov, Choïgou – trample on the spot. That’s why Putin must tolerate Prigozhin. He got himself into a bind. Thus, Prigozhin, which destroys the system, is at the same time a factor of stability. He has chosen a very interesting role: he is both the precursor of the revolution and the man who can prevent it. He is both Trotsky the Bolshevik and General Kornilov [commandant de l’Armée des volontaires durant la guerre civile contre les bolcheviks, NDLR]. A fantastic dialectic for the Russian revolution which is being born before our eyes…