Still a Land of Possibilities

Ukraine may be rolling back some of the civic gains it made this decade, but it’s hardly ripe for authoritarianism. From openDemocracy.

by Ingo Petz

31 August 2010

Mykola Riabchuk is one of Ukraine’s leading intellectuals. In an interview with Ingo Petz he outlines his views on the failure of the Orange Revolution and the early stages of the presidency of Viktor Yanukovych.

Ingo Petz: Mr. Riabchuk, how is Yanukovych doing as president?

He’s carrying on the old post-Soviet tradition of playing with, rather than by, the rules. What distinguishes him from his predecessors, however, is that his “blue” coalition is far more monolithic and unscrupulous than the “orange” coalition was. The new team is trying to roll out the system they established long ago in the Donetsk region through the whole of Ukraine. They are striving to monopolize all power completely and eliminate any pluralism, be it political, economic or even religious, cultural and linguistic. They will probably not succeed but tensions are likely to grow and violence, even bloodshed, may follow. I’d like to emphasize that the new team is much more unscrupulous (“the end justifies the means”) and authoritarian (“might makes right”) than even Kuchma’s team was.

Mykola Riabchuk: That sounds very dramatic. So are democracy and Western values once more lost to Ukraine? Or will Ukrainians kickYanukovych out when they’ve had enough of his post-post-Soviet politics?

They may not be completely lost, but they are under really serious threat. Ukrainian society was as disappointed by Yushchenko’s chaotic democracy as the Russians were by Yeltsin’s feckless pluralism. They express a similar longing for a “strong hand,” which means primarily they are really fed up with dysfunctional institutions and yearn for some law and order. But, as opinion surveys reveal, Ukrainians are much less ready than Russians to sacrifice, or restrict, their civic liberties for a promise of prosperity. This may result from a different historical legacy. I don’t mean only the western part of Ukraine that, until World War II, had never been part of Russia or the Soviet Union. I mean also central Ukraine, which was historically part of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and was only fully incorporated into the Russian Empire at the end of the 18th century.

But there might be also a structural reason for this attitude. In Russia, authoritarianism may have a broad popular appeal because it is associated with empire, with great-power ambitions, with traditional, deep-rooted anti-Westernism and chauvinism. In Ukraine, it might be attractive only for a small, Sovietophile/Russophile fragment of society. But even they understand that this would definitely be unacceptable for the other, Ukrainophile part of society. And nobody wants bloody conflicts here. So Ukrainians are very cautious about any nationalism, as it could explode the divided country.

Actually, Yushchenko lost not because he was a nationalist, but because he was perceived and portrayed as one. And that was enough. So even if you were to get a strong pro-authoritarian majority in Ukraine, it would inevitably be radically split by a simple question: “What kind of a ‘strong hand’ should it be – Ukrainian or Russian, Ukrainophone or Russophone, ‘aboriginal’ or ‘Creole’?” And, please note, there is also a strong group – maybe not a majority, but a strong pro-democratic minority – that rejects any authoritarianism, Russian or Ukrainian. So in the event of an authoritarian threat, this minority would find situational allies in the pro-authoritarian camp – from that part of the camp who reject not any, but this specific, ethno-cultural brand of authoritarianism.

And, of course, it’s not only Ukrainian society that is divided, but Ukrainian elites, too. The real threat may come from the fact that Yanukovych and his group simply don’t understand the subtlety of the political issues in Ukraine and the complex role of its multiple identities. Yanukovych and his associates come mostly from the Donbas – the most Russified and Sovietized region, which had always been ruled by this group in a virtually totalitarian, mafialike style. They may labor under the delusion that all Ukraine is more or less like the Donbas. And may feel strong temptation to roll out over the whole country the same methods that proved so effective,.

So far, the Western governments have tacitly accepted the parliamentary coup d’etat – probably frustrated by the political instability, internecine wars between the president and the prime minister, and the permanent fruitless elections. They appear to give Yanukovych carte blanche for future reforms, which may be misread by his team as a license for further violations of the law and curtailing civic freedoms. In sum, I don’t think democracy in Ukraine will be successfully eliminated, as it has been in Russia or Belarus. But I’m afraid Yanukovych and his cronies may try it on – and the cost of resistance can be very high.

As a “fan” of the Orange Revolution you must be shattered that Yanukovych won the election.

Yes, of course, it’s a bitter pill. But not totally unexpected. Yanukovych didn’t really win: he received less than 50 percent of votes, and numerically 400,000 fewer than in 2004. But the Orange leaders definitely lost. They fully deserved the defeat and, in fact, did everything possible to facilitate his comeback.

How is he regarded by Ukrainian-speaking intellectuals? Any change in opinions toward him?

Actually, it’s not only Ukrainian-speaking intellectuals. All intellectuals regard him with skepticism. This can, for example, be seen from comments by Mikhail Beletskiy [in Russian]. He is a Russophone activist and ardent critic of Yushchenko’s policies of alleged “Ukrainization,” but he’s not very enthusiastic about the new government either. Yanukovych is a rough, uncultured, autocratic man, with a very narrow, provincial mindset and virtually no strategic vision for the country. His first steps realized our worst fears.

Firstly, he and his team completely disregard the law and defiantly ignore the constitution when politically expedient. Suffice it to say, they have indefinitely postponed the local elections due in May, even though the constitution contains no provision for this. They created a parliamentary coalition and formed the government in an absolutely unconstitutional way, a kind of parliamentary coup d’etat. (The Constitutional Court declared this way of coalition-building unconstitutional in 2008. Now the judges have decided the opposite, reportedly under heavy bribery and intimidation).

Secondly, Yanukovych and his team pursue a vengeful, confrontational policy line that intensifies divisions within the country. One of his ministers, Mr. Tabachnyk, the minister of education, has made extremely Ukrainophobic statements. He has never apologized for them, claiming that his political views have nothing to do with his professional activities in the ministry. Mr. Mogilev, the interior minister, said that Stalin rightly deported all the Crimean Tatars to Siberia because they were Nazi collaborators. Yanukovych’s Russian/Russophone team is pretty xenophobic and very unlikely to bring interethnic accord and consent to the country.

And thirdly, most members of his new team have at various times had serious accusations of corruption brought against them. There are well-substantiated reasons to believe that their skills and will for reforms fall far behind their appetite for looting the economy.

In the West a lot of people think the victory of Yanukovych marks the defeat of the Orange Revolution. Is their view correct?

Yes and no. The Orange Revolution was actually defeated in 2005, when the Orange leaders refused to reform the institutions and society failed to force them to deliver on their promises. All that followed was just the death throes of the revolution, which eventually resulted in Yanukovych’s comeback. At the same time, the legacy of the revolution is much deeper and more durable. This can be seen in the emergence of civil society in Ukraine: it’s not mature enough to bring about fundamental changes in the system, but vibrant enough to resist authoritarian pressure and to protect basic civic rights and liberties in a peaceful, nonviolent way. If we believe in the theory of path dependence, we may say that the revolution failed because in the past we had too little experience of constitutionalism and democracy, and too much lawlessness and autocracy. But, by the same token, we may argue that next time Ukrainians will succeed because now their past contains also some important, albeit short, experience of civic behavior, of mutual trust and solidarity during the revolution.

It seems that the mentality of the homo sovieticus (authoritarian etc.) still dominates the political culture in Ukraine. Is the end of that species in sight? Is there a younger generation of politicians who give you hope for the democratic development of Ukraine?

Homo sovieticus, I believe, is gradually disappearing. Actually, this has been proved by sociological studies: people are becoming more self-confident, less paternalistic and they have more initiative. But the problem of a low social capital still remains, as well as a problem of what George Schopflin calls the “East European political culture.” In this regard, Ukraine (maybe with exception of the western, Catholic part) is not very different from the Balkan states that belong to the same civilizational milieu of Eastern Christianity. If you take a look at our political infighting from this perspective, you would not find much difference between Yushchenko-Tymoshenko, on one hand, and, say, Iliescu-Basescu or any other bad East European politicians, on the other. An ugly rivalry within the Orange camp was actually not very different from political rivalries in most other post-communist countries. The main difference, however, was that in all those countries there was no “third force,” represented in Ukraine by the profoundly anti-national, anti-European Party of the Regions and the Communists. This also means that in all those countries Russia could not play the spoiler role as effectively as it did in Ukraine.

I feel both the Ukrainian elites and society in general are pretty tired with all the lawlessness and institutional dysfunctionality. The popular vote for Tyhypko and Yatsenyuk, who came third and fourth in the first round of the last elections, largely reflects society’s need for (relatively) new faces and, even more importantly, for politicians who position themselves less ideologically – as pragmatists and technocrats. (Actually, Yushchenko won the 2004 elections primarily because he had a popular image, which was eventually eroded by his astounding fecklessness). But the main problem is how to change the rules of game without an external arbiter – what academics call “third-party enforcement.” Popular consent is not enough. Just remember the final scene of Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs. Three gangsters point their guns at one another’s heads and nobody will put his gun down because he may be the first to die. In the Balkans, the EU and NATO played the role of external arbiter with an even bigger gun. And this helped to change the paradigm.

So the way out will not be easy. But I believe that if Ukrainians can prove good will, consent, and a critical mass for change, the EU would help. We (I mean both Ukraine and the EU) lost this chance immediately after the Orange revolution, but I hope we won’t lose the next. We just need to work hard to create it again.

What about a cultural vision for a future Ukraine? Being part of the EU? The West? Or finding its own way, a channel of communication between West and East?

I don’t believe in any “third way,” “channels,” “bridging,” “neutrality.” Or any other hollow rhetoric that is at best naïve, at worst hypocritical, and suits the geopolitical manipulations of the Kremlin. Russians may deceive themselves with “thirdwayism” – as long as they have oil and gas – but Ukraine can’t afford it. Either we make a tremendous effort to join the First World, the “golden billion,” the core of the world economy (in Wallerstein’s terms), or we remain on its periphery (or, like China or Russia, the semi-periphery). For Ukraine, the third way leads directly into the Third World. I’d like our politicians to state this clearly rather than flirt with unviable ideas. True, Ukrainians are divided in their orientations between the West and Russia (or, more precisely, the mythical East Slavonic/Orthodox Christian “umma”). But this choice is not just about politics or geopolitics or even identity. It’s about values, about both level and way of life, about a secure and decent future. This should be clearly stated. Ukrainian divisions don’t mean we should avoid clear choices. It only means that we have to have better explanations, to work more persistently and, perhaps, to move more smoothly and carefully.

In Belarus, for example, a lot of people say: Thank God we don’t live in a chaotic, corrupt Mafia-style country like Ukraine. What would you reply?

If Belarusians, or Russians, are happy with their idea of happiness, then I’m not going to try and persuade them they’re wrong. Personally, I don’t think their countries are less corrupt. Informal censorship merely means they have less information about corruption. And the control of corruption exercised by their authoritarian rulers is more centralized and hierarchical. So if you want me to reply, I would say: well, you have a single mafia headed by your president as the godfather. While we, so far (unless Yanukovych introduces the Belarusian system in Ukraine), have many competing mafias, which creates a kind of pluralism in the country. This is not democracy yet but it could evolve from this pluralism – as it has in Western Europe since the Middle Ages. Ukraine might be more chaotic, but it has some chance for a breakthrough. They don’t. Actually, I like Boris Nemtsov’s comparison of Ukrainian politics to a lunatic asylum, and Russian politics to a cemetery. “In the lunatic asylum, theoretically, you can be cured. In the cemetery, you can’t.”

Ingo Petz is a German freelance journalist. This interview originally appeared on openDemocracy.net.

What Britain could learn from Portugal's drugs policy

A decade ago Portugal took a radical new approach to illegal drugs by treating users as people with social problems rather than as criminals. Could it work in the UK?

Susannah is being treated in the physiotherapy unit of the Centro das Taipas, a vast, pink former mental institutution close to Lisbon's airport, where she is having hot towels pressed on to her lower back. Built during the second world war, the wards of wing 21B are these days committed to the treatment of drug addiction.

Susannah is a long-term drug user and is intelligent but troubled. She first smoked cannabis at 13. At 17, she began taking heroin with the father of her children. Now 37, she has been dependent on drugs – mostly heroin – for almost two decades.

"I lived in Spain for a while," she tells me. "And London for a year, working in the restaurants with a friend. I went there to try to get off drugs but ended up on crack." These days, however, Susannah, who also suffers from a bipolar disorder, is one of the beneficiaries of Europe's most tolerant drug regime. For in Portugal, where Susannah lives, drugs have not only been decriminalised for almost a decade, but users are treated as though they have a health and social problem. Addicts such as Susannah are helped by the law, not penalised and stigmatised by it.

In the midst of the recently resurgent debate in Britain about whether our drug laws are working – or require a major overhaul – the experience of Portugal has become a crucial piece of evidence in favour of a radical approach that has confounded the expectations of even its conservative critics, so much so that in the last month British officials have asked their Portuguese counterparts for advice, with the only caveat being that they avoid mentioning the word "decriminalise".

It is, perhaps, an unnecessary sensitivity. For the reality is that, despite liberalising how it regards drug possession – now largely an administrative problem rather than a criminal offence – Portugal has not become a magnet for drug tourists like Amsterdam, as some had predicted.

British officials are not the only ones who have made the pilgrimage to Portugal in recent years – health specialists, officials and journalists from around the world have all made the journey to see what Portugal is doing right, even as their own countries are still struggling.

Nor has it seen its addict population markedly increase. Rather it has stabilised in a nation that, along with the UK and Luxembourg, once had the worst heroin problem in Europe.

For Susannah – as for the many long-term addicts now on methadone replacement and other programmes, and for the country's health professionals – the country's recent social history is divided into what the world of addiction and drug use was like before Law 30 was approved in November 2000, and what it is like now.

Before the law, which decriminalised (or depenalised) possession of drugs but still prohibited their use, the story of drug addiction in Portugal was a familiar one. More than 50% of those infected with HIV in Portugal were drug addicts, with new diagnoses of HIV among addicts running at about 3,000 a year. These days, addicts account for only 20% of those who are HIV infected, while the number of new HIV diagnoses of addicts has fallen to fewer than 2,000 a year.

Other measures have been equally encouraging. Deaths of street users from accidental overdoses also appear to have declined, as – anecdotal evidence strongly suggests – has petty crime associated with addicts who were stealing to maintain their habits. Recent surveys in schools also suggest an overall decrease in drug experimentation.

At the same time, the number of those in treatment for their addiction problems has risen by about a third

from 23,500 in 1998 to 35,000 today – helped by a substantial increase in available beds, facilities and medical support – with many going on to methadone replacement programmes. The consequence is that perhaps as much as €400m (£334m) has been taken out of the illegal drugs market.

But decriminalisation, as Portuguese officials and others who have observed the country's experience are at pains to point out, was only the most obvious part of what happened 10 years ago in the midst of a similar debate on drugs to the one now going on in the UK.

Then, in a moment of grand vision powered by an inquiry which recommended a wholesale overhaul of Portugal's anti-drugs policy in 1998, the government opted to make wholesale changes to the way Portugal dealt with the issue, giving a huge boost in resources to everything from prevention to harm reduction, treatment and reintegration – creating an entirely joined-up approach to drug abuse under the auspices of a single unit in the ministry of health.

It marked an acceptance that for many, living drug-free was neither realistic nor possible and that what society needed to do was mitigate the risk individuals posed to themselves and a wider population at large by helping them manage their problems.

Susannah's doctor, the head of treatment at the Centro das Taipas, is Dr Miguel Vasconcelos. He frames Portuguese drug laws in a way that I hear repeated several times. Within certain clearly defined limits – an amount equivalent to 10 days' normal use of any particular drug, ranging from amphetamines and cannabis to heroin – possession, he explains, is now considered similar to a traffic offence. It is a notion I find later described in the Portuguese drug strategy document as a "humanistic" approach.

Vasconcelos, 51, is old enough to remember what it was like before, in a country which, two decades ago, barely had a methadone replacement programme at all. In his office, decorated with artworks by his clients, Vasconcelos says: "Critics from the conservative parties were concerned that the new law would make Portugal a place like Amsterdam, but that did not happen.

"You have to remember," he says, "that the substances are still illegal; it is the consequences that are different." And for those arrested in possession of drugs for personal use, that means not a court appearance but an invitation to attend a "dissuasion board" that can request – but not insist upon – attendance at facilities such as the Centro das Taipas for assessment and treatment. "They evaluate if someone is ill or a recreational user, if a person uses sporadically," says Vasconselos. "Even then people have a choice. People can refuse to attend the dissuasion board."

For many, he believes, the experience can be cathartic and he admits being surprised by how open many of the clients who have come to his facility via that system have been .

If there has been a problem with the Portuguese experiment, he believes that it has been one largely of perception – outside Portugal – where decriminalisation has been misunderstood by some as legalisation or a step on the road to it.

Rather, Vasconcelos believes that decriminalisation is a natural consequence of a gradual shift from regarding addicts as social delinquents to regarding them as people in need of help, a view reiterated by Dr Manuel Cardoso, a board member at the Instituto da Droga e da Toxicodependência at Portugal's health ministry, which now co-ordinates the country's approach to drug abuse.

At the centre of Portugal's deeply pragmatic approach are the dissuasion boards. Lisbon's board – which deals with 2,000 cases a year – sits in a modest office on the second floor of a block above a pretty park. There are no lawyers (although they can attend) and no clerks in robes. No uniforms at all.

Last Friday, on one side of the table were Nadia Simoes and Nuno Portugal Capaz, both members of the commission. On the other was a 19-year-old barman in a white T-shirt who allowed the Observer to observe the confidential process but asked not to be named.

Stopped by police with 5.2 grams of cannabis, he is marginally over the limit of what can be dealt with by the dissuasion board alone and has had to appear in court as well. It is the young man's first offence. He looks nervous. But it quickly becomes clear that this is a non-confrontational process, as Simoes explains that while possession of drugs for personal use is not a criminal offence, it is still forbidden.

The man nods his understanding. Simoes explains the risks of smoking cannabis, including schizophrenia, and the sanctions the board can impose for second offences, including a fine or community service. Licences crucial to employment can also be revoked. As the process concludes, the barman looks relieved and promises to stop smoking. As he leaves, Capaz stands up and shakes his hand. The whole thing has lasted less than 10 minutes.

A sociologist by training, Capaz is a vice-president on the board. He believes that far from Portugal becoming more lenient, the reality is that the state intervenes far more than it did before Law 30 and the other associated legislation was introduced. Before, he explains, police would often not pursue drug users they had arrested, interested only in the dealers. "People outside Portugal believe we had a tougher approach under the old law, but in reality it is far tougher now."

Now everyone who is caught with drugs must go before one of the 20 boards in the country to be categorised as either a recreational user, someone with a developing problem, or an addict. And while some 30% choose to refuse to appear at the first summons, most – when threatened with a fine for disobedience – eventually attend.

Capaz has been involved since the very beginning and is struck by two things. The first is how Portuguese society has come to accept that addicts and drug users should be treated as a social rather than a criminal problem. The second, he explains, is that under the old criminal system all of those caught were supposed to be equal before the law. "With this system," he explains, "We do it the other way. We can apply the law in a way that fits the individual."

Indeed, the law recognises that for addicts certain sanctions are not appropriate. While recreational users can be fined, the law prevents addicts from having a financial penalty imposed for fear that in trying to raise the fine they might be driven to commit a crime.

But not everyone is totally convinced. Not even among the people who have dedicated their lives to assisting addicts. Francisco Chaves runs a modern shelter for street addicts close to Casal Vendoso, a place once notorious for its drug problems. "I want to explain first that this is not my profession but a vocation," he explains by way of introduction. He wants, however, to pose a "rhetorical question" which turns out to be more passionate intervention than a debating point.

He is concerned that under the "humanistic approach" enshrined in Portugal's decade-old laws – in its concern for the human rights of the addict – perhaps too much pressure to change may have been taken off addicts. "I worry that it has become too easy being an addict now," he says. "They can say: 'I've got clean clothes. I've got food. Support. So why should I change?'"

He says this sadly, because he agrees that addicts should be treated properly but cannot avoid "the paradox of the situation". "I say it is a rhetorical question because places like this are required. It is a personal, philosophical question." But it is one without any obvious answer.

Outside his office in the large, bright space where addicts are lolling on the sofa, eating or watching television, I encounter Fernando Almeida, 31, who has been a heroin addict since he was 19. A thief – who stole to support his habit – he was recently released from prison and found a place at this centre.

When he arrived six months ago, he weighed 55 kilos. These days he weighs 73kg and appears both lucid and motivated. "In the old days I used to get hassled by the police. Now the police don't interfere with me," he says. "I used to steal. Now I'm not going to steal anymore. For me the solution is to stop. I've discovered food and small things like taking a walk and having a coffee. I'm learning how to work."

Source - Guardian