By JOHN WILLIAMS
The journalist Masha Gessen is a citizen of both Russia — where she was born and now lives, in Moscow — and the United States. Her newest book, “The Man Without a Face: The Unlikely Rise of Vladimir Putin,” is a scathing account of Mr. Putin’s reign. Shortly after after the Russian elections on March 4, in which Mr. Putin won a contentious six-year term, Ms. Gessen discussed on e-mail his rise to power, the use and abuse of that power and the chances for change. Below are excerpts of the conversation.
“The Man Without a Face” by Masha Gessen
Q.
You write: “Possibly the most bizarre fact about Putin’s ascent to power is that the people who lifted him to the throne knew little more about him than you do.” Given how little they knew, why did so many think he could be the answer to the country’s political prayers?
A.
It is not unusual for humans to see what they want to see. In this case, Russians wanted to see a new, young, energetic, worldly leader. Outgoing president Boris Yeltsin had become an embarrassment to the country and a heartbreak to his former supporters. Putin was definitely not Yeltsin: He was indeed younger, he wore well-cut European suits and he did not have a drinking problem. And the vast majority of Russians, as well as the leaders of the Western world and Western media, chose to overlook everything else — like the fact that he was the K.G.B.’s flesh and blood.
Q.
Putin was born in Leningrad in 1952. What was it about the place and time of his upbringing, and his parents’ lives and beliefs, you think is most important in understanding him today?
A.
Here is a fact that Putin has hidden in plain sight: He was born into the K.G.B. His father had served in the secret police, and the boy was brought up dreaming of becoming a secret agent — which is what he became right out of college. As a result, there was virtually no record of his life before he was appointed prime minister of Russia in August 1999 — so he got to shape his own story. The story he chose to tell is that of a street tough, a scrappy, aggressive, vengeful little boy and, later, a man who has trouble controlling his temper or letting go of a fight.
Q.
You move through a catalog of disastrous events in recent Russian history — the bombings of apartment buildings, the quashing of political dissent, the death of journalists — and lay the blame for much of it at Putin’s feet. How much of this is concretely provable? And why is the conventional Western portrayal of Putin, though negative, not as thoroughly damning as yours?
A.
It’s the Catch-22 of closed systems like the one Putin has built: conclusive evidence should be obtained by law enforcement, but that is the last thing that is going to happen so long as Putin is in power. None of the murders or acts of terror that have occurred in the last 12 years have been properly investigated.
Still, there is at least one smoking gun, in the murder of former F.S.B. [Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation] agent Alexander Litvinenko, who died in London of polonium poisoning. That sort of polonium is produced only in Russia, and its release would have had to be approved at the highest level of the Russian government. And, finally, there is this: Putin has been running the country for the last 12 years, and for this reason alone he should be held personally responsible for the fact that dissenters are menaced, physically attacked and even killed on his watch.
Q.
What do you consider the most brazen thing Putin has done while in power?
A.
It is hard to choose, so I’ll go with the freshest insult: the mass violations during the March 4 presidential elections — the blatant ballot-stuffing, the throngs transported from precinct to precinct so they could vote repeatedly, and, finally, the tens of thousands bused in from the provinces to celebrate Putin’s victory while tens of thousands of armed police stood guard.
Q.
There were several moments when the political tide in recent Russian history threatened to change. Of all the developments there since the fall of the Soviet Union, what do you think was the best opportunity for change that slipped away?
A.
I think the greatest missed opportunity in recent Russian history predates Putin. In 1996, Yeltsin and his people, faced with a strong challenge by the communist Gennadi Zyuganov, panicked and rigged the election. It was child’s play compared with the kind of rigging that goes on now, but it sounded the death knell for Russian democracy. If Zyuganov had won in a fair and open election, Russia would have seen some rollbacks in policy, but nothing like what Putin began doing four years later.
Q.
News broke before the election that there had been a foiled plot to assassinate Putin. How does this fit in with the events chronicled in your book?
A.
The Russian blogs immediately filled with jokes about the plot: No one but no one seems to have believed the news. This is how cynical we as a people have become in the Putin era. Imagine there really was a plot: Putin would be the president who cried wolf.
Svenya GeneralovaMasha Gessen
Q.
The reviews of your book have called you brave and courageous. Do you feel safe living in Moscow? Do you think of leaving?
A.
I have thought of leaving, and I have even made plans to leave. The truth is, I don’t want to. I love my home, my friends, my job, my life. And if Putin doesn’t like me, he can leave.
Q.
“The Man Without a Face” ends with last December’s protests, and there are still peaceful protests continuing, but the picture your book paints is a grim one. How does the era of Putin give way to the world the protesters want? How does the Putin you portray allow for that change?
A.
The regime is in agony. Of course, this is not because Putin would consider giving in to the protesters or even, it seems, negotiating with them. But then, he is not the protests’ intended audience. The protesters address themselves — or, more accurately, we address ourselves — to other Russian citizens, who also want to live in a just and open society.
The Putin regime, like all such regimes, is a pyramid. And what the protests are doing is dismantling the bottom rungs of this pyramid. It happens when journalists on state-controlled TV sneak in accurate and sympathetic coverage of the protests. Or when the editor-in-chief of the Yaroslavl state television station writes an open letter to his boss, saying, “I am taking sick leave until after the election because the election is making me sick.” Or when officials from local election commissions in Samara and St. Petersburg come forward and tell the stories of their own parts in the vote-rigging in the December parliamentary election.
Soon — quite soon, I think — too many bricks will have come out of the bottom of the pyramid, and the whole edifice will collapse. This is not dissimilar to the way the Soviet Union ended, and the feeling in Moscow these days is reminiscent of that time. There is hope and there is fear, and the hope wanes occasionally but ultimately prevails.
