Jan 31st 2012, 23:30 by T.W. | BUCHAREST
YESTERDAY Adrian Năstase, Romania's prime minister between 2000 and 2004, became the country's first head of government in the post-communist era to be convicted of corruption. It was a long time coming.
Handing Mr Năstase a two-year prison sentence, the judges ruled that he had used a publicly funded conference of construction companies as a front to raise cash for his unsuccessful presidential campaign in 2004.
This, however, was a minor charge compared to some of the other corruption accusations that have dogged Mr Năstase, all of which he denies. "Năstase seven houses", a reference to his multiple residences, was just one of the nicknames bestowed on him by the press.
Mr Năstase was raised in the communist school of politics, and it showed. During his time in office state-run television and radio stations were obliged to follow a pro-governmental line. Newspapers that printed incriminating stories found their entire circulation had been bought up before they hit the news-stands. Mr Năstase took part in huge hunting sprees that rivalled any of Ceauşescu's, and his two wives were both from the communist nomenklatura.
Mr Năstase's truculence in the face of opposition was legendary. When asked about the significant wealth that he accumulated during his time in office, he invited his detractors to count his balls instead.
Despite such outbursts, Mr Năstase, a much-published professor of international law, cultivated the image of a bourgeois intellectual. This helped pave the way for his rival, the current president Traian Băsescu, whose populist appeal and working-class idiom were a world away from the aloof Mr Năstase. The promise of clamping down on corruption helped Mr Băsescu to defeat Mr Năstase in 2004.
Mr Năstase is the most prominent Romanian politician to be taken down by Romania's National Anticorruption Directorate (DNA). Does this mean that Romania is finally taking the fight against corruption, so often urged on it by the European Union, seriously? The protesters who are braving temperatures of -15 degrees in Bucharest's University Square wouldn't say so. Many of them see little difference between the corruption of the Năstase days and the Romania of 2012.
Mr Năstase, who plans to appeal against his conviction, says that he is a victim of political harrassment, and that Mr Băsescu and the head of the DNA, Daniel Morar, wanted him out of the way. The EU has indeed repeatedly chastised Romania for its politicised judicial system, and Mr Năstase's conviction is undeniably a boon for the besieged Mr Băsescu. The president has a reputation for seeking to bring corruption charges against his opponents.
Others might cite Mr Năstase's loss of clout within his own party as a factor in his downfall. Some members of his Social Democratic Party will certainly be rejoicing. Unless he wins his appeal, Mr Năstase will not be able to hold public office or serve as party president for four years; good news for his many rivals within the party he once dominated.
Mr Năstase may not even serve his jail term; he has promised to take his case to the European Court of Human Rights if necessary. Yet although his sentence is relatively lenient (others indicted in the same case got six or seven-year stretches), what matters is that a former prime minister has been shown to be within the reach of the law. With luck he might stand as a cautionary tale for a political class around which the stench of graft has yet to lift.
Jan 28th 2012, 16:58 by V.P.
THEY have been called "worms", "violent and inept slum-dwellers", and "suckers". And yet hundreds of them, exasperated about austerity measures, political incompetence and lack of public consultation over laws, keep coming out on to the freezing winter streets of Bucharest and other Romanian cities to urge the president and government to resign.
"Now is the winter of our discontent—Suckerspeare" read one banner in Bucharest's University Square—the same spot where anti-Communist protesters were beaten and killed in the early 1990s in clashes with government-controlled miners. Now the demands are more diverse: no to shale-gas exploration and gold-mining with cyanide, yes to the return of the long-defunct monarchy, higher pensions, lower taxes, more bicycle paths.
Others are simply asking for politicians to respect them. And after two weeks of protests, it seems that the politicians have started to listen. Or at least to find some scapegoats.
On Monday Teodor Baconschi, the foreign minister, was sacked after writing about the "violent and inept slums" that were home to the protestors, to be compared with the rest of "hard-working Romania." Then Iulian Urban, a deputy from the ruling Democratic Liberal Party (PDL), resigned after calling the protesters "worms".
On Wednesday President Traian Băsescu finally broke his silence with a televised speech in which he admitted there was a "rupture" between him and part of the population. He said that austerity was needed to restore Romania's economic health, and complained that it was "unfair" to be labelled as a "dictator", as some protestors have done.
Yet Mr Băsescu conceded that he needs to "reduce the blunders I sometimes make in public", such as the one that sparked the protests—his row with a respected doctor who opposed the government's plan to partially privatise the health-care system.
The opposition, meanwhile, is trying to capitalise on the anger movement, by organising parallel demonstrations. General elections are due in November, and the Social-Liberal Union is riding high in the polls with about 60% support, while the PDL languishes at around 11%.
This week Romania's constitutional court gave the opposition another boost by ruling against a government plan to hold local elections at the same time as parliamentary ones. The unpopular PDL had wanted to merge the two so as to postpone the local campaign by a few months.
But the advent of a centre-left government later this year is unlikely to save Romanians from more austerity. The country has contracted another $5 billion loan from the IMF, on top of a $27 billion rescue package agreed in 2009 with the IMF and the EU. And with growth forecasts being slashed all around the region as the euro-zone crisis bites, Romania's winter of discontent has few chances of turning into a glorious summer.
(Photo credit: AFP)
Jan 27th 2012, 17:52 by K.M.
THE "invisible gorilla" experiment (follow the link if you're unfamiliar with this remarkable study) is a useful reminder of how easy it can be to miss what should be obvious. Similarly, the gorilla of sleaze has regularly been an important player in the cosy world of Slovak politics. But too often few Slovaks have chosen to notice it.
“Gorilla” is the codename given to a wiretapping operation in 2005-06, the details of which were, it is alleged, revealed in a secret-service file leaked on to the internet in December. It has shaken Slovak politics to the core.
The file, supposedly compiled by the Slovak Information Service (SIS), does not contain direct transcripts of the wiretaps, but purports to provide raw intelligence based on them. It discusses privatisation deals conducted during the second term of Mikuláš Dzurinda, a reformist prime minister in office between 1998 and 2006 (and foreign minister in Iveta Radičová's current caretaker government).
Some Slovaks have interpreted Gorilla as an unwelcome reminder that the dodgy links between politics and business that thrived in the 1990s, an altogether murkier period in Slovakia, may not have been entirely severed. Today hundreds of Slovaks threw eggs and bananas at the parliament building in protest.
At the heart of the scandal lie allegations that bribes worth millions of euros were paid to officials to win various public-procurement and privatisation contracts. Former ministers, representatives from Austrian, French, Italian and Russian multinationals, and tycoons from Penta, an investment fund dubbed the “fifth coalition partner” in Mr Dzurinda’s second government, are all named in the file. So are all four political parties in Mr Dzurinda's second coalition government.
The intelligence in Gorilla insinuates that Anna Bubeníková, head of Slovakia's state privatisation agency, acted as a go-between for Penta and foreign investors. She is supposed to have attended meetings in a “safe apartment” in central Bratislava and an obscure hotel in the Tatra mountains. Ms Bubeníková was sacked earlier this month. She denies any wrongdoing.
Penta, which employs more than 25,000 people and took in €2.1 billion in revenues in 2010, is one of the dominant investment players in Slovakia’s small market. One of its rivals, J&T, is known for having hobnobbed with members of the centre-left party Direction-Social Democracy (Smer-SD), led by another former prime minister, Robert Fico. Both funds have been aggressive bidders for most public-procurement contracts in Slovakia.
A spokesman for Penta told me that the group denies any involvement in criminal activity. He suggested that the release of Gorilla was designed to intimidate specific (but unnamed) individuals ahead of a general election on March 10th. He says that of the 12 business deals described in Gorilla, Penta took part in only six, and that it won contracts only when its bid was demonstrably the strongest. He added that the group would be taking legal action to protect its reputation.
The Gorilla file has been known to various insiders for some time. In 2009 it reached Tom Nicholson, a prominent investigative journalist, who claims that the security services offered him “millions” to drop it. In the end he was unable to find a media outlet prepared to publish it without corroborating evidence.
Freedom and Solidarity (SaS), a free-market newcomer on the Slovak political scene and a member of the four-party coalition government that collapsed in October*, has admitted that it had the Gorilla file ahead of the last general election, in 2010.
On December 23rd, days after Gorilla's publication, SaS issued a formal complaint to the Office for the Fight Against Corruption, a unit within the Slovak police. A week later the general prosecutor's office said it would set up a team to investigate the claims in the file. On January 9th Daniel Lipšic, the interior minister, put together an investigative team to look into the issue.
Some have questioned the file's authenticity. Mr Dzurinda has said that the entire thing is a fabrication. All the political parties implicated have rebuffed allegations of corrupt dealings. Politicians under suspicion have pooh-poohed Gorilla as kompromat timed to discredit them before the election. (Waggish critics responded by placing a sticker depicting Slovakia’s coat of arms with a gorilla in it at the entrance to the parliament building.)
It is certainly true that no corroborating evidence, such as audio recordings, has come to light. But various statements from officials are chipping away at the doubts. The interior ministry confirmed last week that a wiretapping operation codenamed "Gorilla" took place, and that it was legal. A former senior anti-corruption police officer and a former head of the National Security Bureau have said publicly that the file is authentic and that the information in it is likely to be true.
On January 11th Jaroslav Spišiak, the police chief, told a newspaper that "developments could have happened in the way they are described" in Gorilla. This week Ivan Gašparovič, Slovakia's president, approved the questioning of Karol Mitrík, the SIS director, who is usually bound by an oath of secrecy.
For Mr Dzurinda, a giant on the Slovak political scene, the allegations that massive corruption in public procurement took place on his watch may now spell his political end. (There have been no suggestions that he took bribes himself.)
SDKÚ, which has dominated centre-right Slovak politics for a decade, has plummeted to 8.3% in one opinion poll, down from 15.4% in 2010's election. Other centre-right parties who served in Mr Dzurinda's government have also suffered losses of confidence.
It is not only the centre-right that has been embarrassed by Gorilla. Mr Fico is described as visiting the safe flat in Bratislava to discuss purges in his party and financing with Penta’s co-owner, Jaroslav Haščák. Smer-SD is known to have received about SKK 1.2m (around €40,000) from Penta magnates in the early 2000s. Mr Fico has said that he might have met Mr Haščák, but has made no comment on the content of their meeting.
Still, such funding is not illegal under Slovak law, and Mr Fico has long since cut ties with Penta. In 2008 he said that he likes financial groups “as a goat likes a knife”. After taking power in 2006 his government gave Penta a public rap on the knuckles by cancelling the privatisation of Bratislava airport.
Indeed, Mr Fico looks poised to win a landslide victory in the upcoming election. If the results of one recent poll were repeated on election day Smer-SD would win 81 of the 150 seats in parliament, giving it a healthy majority. No party has ever governed alone in Slovakia since the country threw off its communist shackles.
As the centre-right is dragged through the mud, Mr Fico is likely to gain from the ensuing drop in turnout, as are political novices such as SaS and other fresh faces. SaS fell out of favour after toppling Ms Radičová’s cabinet from within over the euro last autumn, but the Gorilla scandal may help it rally.
The gorilla has been spotted, but it is unlikely to leave.
* An earlier version of this article incorrectly stated that Slovakia's government collapsed in November.
Jan 27th 2012, 15:23 by A.L.B. | BUDAPEST
IT WAS a swift, and surprisingly productive, about-turn. After declaring war on the IMF and repeatedly rejecting calls from the EU to change contentious laws, Viktor Orbán, the Hungarian prime minister, insisted this week in Brussels that he was open to discussion. "We are ready to consult on all issues," he told the Wall Street Journal. "Some disagreements are still there, but I am in an optimistic mood. I think we are very close to our targets now."
Arguably, he had little choice. Hungary wants a financial safety-net from the IMF and EU. But any such deal must be green-lit by the EU, which has launched infringement proceedings against Hungary over its controversial central-bank law, the independence of its data ombudsman and its judicial reforms. In theory it is the Hungarian parliament rather than Mr Orbán that has the say on rewriting laws, but there is little danger of the faithful Fidesz flock objecting to the rapid about-turn.
Mr Orbán's charm offensive had fast, and impressive, results. Markets were reassured: the forint, which had plummeted against the euro ealier this month, rallied to less than 300 to the euro, and yields on Hungarian debt fell.
Mr Orbán was doubtless feeling bolstered by a massive demonstration in Budapest last Saturday, when at least 100,000 protestors (400,000, according to the interior ministry) took to the streets to show their support for the government. The protest, organised in part by right-wing journalists, was one of the largest since the change of system in 1989 and showed that the ruling party can still bring out far greater numbers than the opposition.
Many of the protestors carried placards attacking the EU and the IMF, doubtless unaware that even as they marched for sovereignty, Mr Orbán was preparing to surrender it in Brussels.
But there is still a long way to go before any agreement is signed. The IMF is now criticising Hungary's new flat-tax law, which would need a two-thirds majority in parliament to overturn. José Manuel Barroso, head of the European Commission, remains wary. A separate row over Hungary's budget deficit could lead to the freezing of EU development funds.
The question of judicial independence is likely to remain a sticking-point. Mr Orbán is forcing hundreds of judges into early retirement at the age of 62. Tünde Handó, a friend of the Orbán family and the wife of a prominent Fidesz MEP, has been appointed head of the new National Judicial Authority. (In response government supporters ask why the commission is so quiet about the parlous state of justice in Romania and Bulgaria.)
The United States shares the EU's concerns, says Eleni Tsakopoulos Kounalakis, its ambassador to Hungary. She warns that the judicial reforms place "tremendous power" in the hands of a political appointee for nine years. American suggestions for including checks and balances were all ignored.
Pressure is also rising over media freedom. Vaira Vīķe-Freiberga, a former Latvian president who now heads an EU advisory panel, has sharply criticised what she labels the government's "extraordinary concentration of power". She has called for Hungary to reconsider its media regulation, which, she says, "may be in contravention of various fundamental principles".
Klubrádio, a liberal radio station that has often acted as an unofficial opposition in Hungary, is turning into a cause célèbre in Brussels and an increasing irritant for Mr Orbán's government. The station is immensely popular in Budapest, especially after purges of independent-minded journalists at the state broadcast media. But it will soon be forced off the air in the capital; its frequency has been handed to an obscure rival that submitted a higher bid and that plans to broadcast music rather than talk.
This week in Brussels Neelie Kroes, the digital-agenda commissioner, met György Bolgár, Klubrádio's star presenter, and András Arató, its CEO. Ms Kroes described the latest developments as "worrying", noting that "high music content has been given priority over political commentary and discussion".
No IMF deal will be contingent on the fate of Klubrádio. But the station's uncertain future is certainly not helping Hungary's cause. This may be why Ms Kroes, according to one of her tweets yesterday, has been talking to Tibor Navracsics, Hungary's deputy prime minister, about "a solution for media freedom and pluralism". The station, your correspondent predicts, will be saved.
Jan 23rd 2012, 13:46 by T.J.
THERE were no fireworks and no joyous, flag-waving crowds, although the president, prime minister and speaker of parliament did at least raise a glass to the strains of Ode to Joy.
Yesterday two-thirds of Croats who took part in a referendum on whether their country should join the European Union voted "yes", more than had been expected. The low turnout of 43%, however, meant that only a third of the electorate actually voted in favour. “It’s not great, but it's legal,” was the accurate if underwhelming summing-up of Zoran Milanović, the new prime minister. Still, not a single one of Croatia’s 15 regions voted against.
Indeed, one could fairly make the case that given the steady stream of bad news from the euro zone, Balkan Greece and Croatia's neighbour Hungary, a two-thirds vote in favour of joining was something of an achievement.
Croatia completed its negotiations with Brussels last year and, assuming no hiccups, will become the EU's 28th member on July 1st 2013. It will become the second ex-Yugoslav state, after Slovenia, to join.
Croatia’s EU accession was negotiated by the centre-right Croatian Democratic Union (HDZ), which was turfed out of office in an election in December. But it was backed by Croatia's entire political elite, from Mr Milanović's left-leaning Social Democratic Party to the Catholic church to prominent academics and institutions.
Parts of the nationalist right were opposed to joining, but the wind was knocked from their sails last week when their great hero Ante Gotovina, who is serving a 24-year prison sentence for war crimes, said that Croatia belonged in the EU.
Those against accession argued that Croatia should not seek to join a would-be federation only 20 years after having won its freedom from Yugoslavia. They counted among their supporters Marine Le Pen, presidential candidate for the far-right National Front in France; Nigel Farage, leader of the anti-EU UK Independence Party; and David Icke, a British former television sports presenter who argues that members of the British royal family and American presidents are descended from alien reptiles.
According to Ines Sabalić, the Brussels correspondent for a number of Croatian newspapers, the prevailing mood in Croatia was of fear. Croats have always believed that they are part of “Europe” rather than the Balkans, and have looked west rather than east. But, she says, belonging to Europe today demands a lot of optimism. Croats have had to bet that their future will be better on the inside than languishing irrelevantly, Moldovan-style, on the outside.
The Croatian vote has been greeted with relief in the rest of the western Balkans. A “no” would probably have been catastrophic for the accession plans of other countries in the region. Sceptics about western-Balkan accession in Brussels and elsewhere would have been able to argue that if the Croats did not want to join, the EU should not bother helping the rest of the region to do so.
But with the EU facing one of the biggest challenges in its history in the form of the euro crisis, don't expect much movement on further enlargement any time soon. Croatia may have squeaked in just as the door is closing.
Jan 19th 2012, 11:27 by T.J.
A FEW years ago I spent some time with Zek Morina (pictured). Each year, between May and October he and his family, their 360 goats and eight Sharr dogs troop up the mountains to Tushovice behind the town of Prizren in southern Kosovo. Then, on market day, someone treks down to Prizren and sells the big cheeses you can see on the shelves for €4 a kilo.
If Mr Morina’s cheese was cut into tiny, delicate little morsels, packaged and labelled as organic, natural and good for you (as it is), it could probably sell in London or Paris for at least seven times that amount.
Of course, the problem is that there is no way to get Mr Morina’s cheese from Tushovice to Tesco (or, more likely, an expensive specialist deli). Moreover, Kosovo is not yet ready to export dairy products like Mr Morina’s into the European Union.
Mr Morina’s story came back to me when I read a report on Bosnia's cheese industry by Populari, a Bosnian think-tank. It comes at a time when the country is agog at the prospect of the demise of its dairy sector. Simply put, the Bosnians have not done what they need to do on EU sanitary rules. This means that when Croatia joins the EU next year (assuming a referendum on accession is successful this weekend) it will no longer be able to accept its neighbour's dairy produce.
In fact, now that Bosnians are finally inching towards the formation of a government, and a prime minister has been approved, they may just be able to get their act together in time to avert this catastrophe.
The Populari paper looks at the development of specialist Bosnian cheese producers, who are already several steps ahead of the likes of Mr Morina. It focuses on Eko Vlasic, a co-operative. "Possibly without even realising it," the paper says, "Eko Vlasic is getting ready to take part in what is called the ‘experience economy’. The concept... treats physical products (goods) in the same league as services. It... is no longer enough to offer only goods and/or services, as consumers are now looking for experiences.”
How can these producers get their stuff out to European consumers? First, the report argues, they need to register their cheese names. This can be done in Bosnia, and they can then be protected at the EU level. This, for example, is what stops Welshmen selling Camembert, or Swedes from selling fake Stiltons or Sardos.
The think-tank goes on to point to a possible model. “Just like in Bosnia, the picturesque mountain meadows of Switzerland are suitable for cheese production. Traditional Swiss cheese is not produced in large factories, but in rural small farm dairies.”
The Swiss and cantonal governments have long supported their farmers. “This policy has enabled the farmers to maintain the high level of quality, which together with clever marketing, ensures high profits. The very same story could be told in Bosnia too.”
I look forward to the day I can buy a small Vlasicki in London.
Jan 17th 2012, 16:39 by A.L.B. | BUDAPEST
HUNGARIANS are used to foreign rule. The Mongols, the Turks, the Habsburgs, the Nazis and the Soviet Union have all left their mark. Sometimes the locals help the occupiers, sometimes they get in their way. Usually it’s a bit of both.
These time-honoured tactics have proved less successful under Hungary’s latest overlords: the European Union, especially as the country joined the club voluntarily. Today the European Commission launched legal action against Hungary over three issues: a new central-bank law, which it says opens the door to political control; judicial reforms that will see hundreds of judges forced to take early retirement; and concerns over the independence of the new data ombudsman. Hungary has a month to modify the laws. If it does not do so, it faces being hauled in front of the European Court of Justice.
Today's ruling is a serious setback for the right-wing Fidesz government. The groundswell of concern in Brussels and other western capitals about Fidesz’s relentless centralisation of power is steadily growing.
It also comes as Hungary is seeking financial assistance from the IMF and the EU. Tamás Fellegi, the government’s chief negotiator, is making the diplomatic rounds but so far has nothing to show for it. Christine Lagarde, head of the IMF, made it clear last week that Hungary will have to play ball with the EU before it can receive a penny.
So what next for Viktor Orbán, the Hungarian prime minister? In most countries enduring a fraying economy and a non-stop diplomatic barrage the ruling party would be cracking as potential rivals readied themselves for power. Not in Hungary. The faithful Fidesz flock stick to the party line as happily as their Communist predecessors.
A compromise looks likely to be found on the central bank and data protection. The question of the judges may be more difficult. Assuming the commission sticks to its guns and forces concessions from Mr Orbán, he will be politically weakened. His popularity is already sagging—one poll gives Gordon Bajnai, his technocrat predecessor, a popularity rating of 28%, one percentage point ahead of the prime minister.
Should Mr Orbán refuse to make concessions then the prospect of an IMF deal will evaporate, the forint will plunge further, bond yields will climb yet higher and the prospect of default later in the year will loom ever larger.
Supporters of the government argue that the commission's action is an outrageous attack on Hungarian sovereignty. Fidesz won a landslide two-thirds majority in a free and fair election less than two years ago, they say, giving it an overwhelming mandate for change. Brussels should mind its own business.
It’s a fair point, but as pressure grows on Budapest the focus will likely shift to the lack of a proper mechanism within the EU to bring wayward members into line. Infringement proceedings are serious but can drag on for years. The EU has the Copenhagen criteria to ensure aspiring countries meet membership requirements, but little to ensure that they stick to them once inside.
The markets' reaction to today's development has been muted. Hungary sold three-month T-bills worth €55 billion forints ($226m), 10 billion more than the target and at slightly lower yields.
But Société Générale is already advising investors to sell forints, predicting that the currency may slide to as low as 325 against the euro. (It briefly hit 324 earlier this month.) Recent reassuring comments towards the EU and the IMF from the government may be nothing more than “yet another tactic to calm markets down”, the bank said.
Jan 17th 2012, 13:18 by G.F.
VLADIMIR PUTIN is nothing if not consistent. The Russian prime minister’s latest response to the popular protests that shook his dozen-year rule last month is to contend that only he can steer his country through the shoals of chaos and stagnation. His assertion came in a newspaper article laying out his reasons for seeking another presidential term in March.
The spectre of anarchy is an old trope among Russian rulers seeking to justify their autocracies. No coincidence, then, that Mr Putin, who likes to compare himself to strong-willed 19th-century reformers, titled his manifesto "Russia is Concentrating," a quote from Prince Alexander Gorchakov, the 19th-century foreign minister who described Russia’s renewal following its devastating defeat in the Crimean war.
Mr Putin criticised a “constantly recurring problem in Russian history”: what he called the urge for revolution. “Today people are talking about various ways to renew the political process”, he writes. “But what are we supposed to be negotiating about?”
Mr Putin may be attempting to court the tens of thousands of largely urban, middle-class protesters who took to the streets to denounce the fixing of parliamentary elections in December. But by paying lip service to their demands he has only drawn attention to his central dilemma: crack down and risk bigger demonstrations, or ease up and undermine the carefully cultivated perception of authoritarian dominance.
Yulia Latynina, a political observer, recently pointed out that Mr Putin’s apparent belief that concessions to public opinion display weakness means “you actually do show weakness when you compromise, something the public perceives just like a shark senses the blood of a wounded fish”.
Mr Putin has used his entire political toolbox to try to undermine the opposition. He trotted out President Dmitry Medvedev to issue another call for easing restrictions against political parties. On Monday the Kremlin introduced his most significant promise to parliament: a bill that would revive the direct elections of governors. Mr Putin cancelled these in 2005.
But the vague stipulation that parties nominate candidates “following consultations with the president, who will set the procedures for such consultations” has largely discredited the measure.
Some took the reassignment of Vladislav Surkov, the Kremlin's chief ideologist and the brains behind Russia’s “sovereign democracy”, as the deepest nod to the protesters. But Mr Surkov's appointment to the position of first deputy prime minister actually looks like a reward for his hard work during a scheduled reshuffle.
The choice for Mr Surkov's replacement appears more significant: Vyacheslav Volodin, a loyal enforcer from Mr Putin’s United Russia Party expected to be a reliable overseer of the presidential election. His appointment follows the promotion of other close allies of Mr Putin, including Sergei Ivanov, a steely former KGB officer, to be his chief of staff. The regime appears to be closing ranks.
Finally, the masquerading of Mr Putin’s loyal allies as reformers has returned in the person of Alexei Kudrin, who was forced out as finance minister in September. Mr Kudrin joined the protests last month, but showed his cards soon afterwards when he lauded Mr Surkov’s reappointment as a sign that the government was ready to begin serious reform. Yesterday he admitted that his efforts to act as a mediator between the government and opposition had failed.
Although Mr Putin will almost certainly win re-election in March, how much real power he retains will largely depend on his handling of the election. Experts agree that he will want to win in the first round to preserve his aura of invincibility. The elections commission is set to select final candidates tomorrow. Most predict that either Mikhail Prokhorov, an oligarch, or Grigory Yavlinsky, a veteran liberal, will be ditched. Both are seen as Kremlin-approved figures meant to add a sheen of legitimacy to the process.
Moscow’s next big protest takes place on February 4th. If it attracts a larger and more varied group of protestors than the last demonstration, on December 24th, some think Russia’s elites could start to believe their positions would be more secure under another leader.
Still, the uncomfortable fact for advocates of democracy is that even the apparently progressive middle-class Russians who praise life in western countries benefit from Russia's vast corruption, which gives many of them a stake in the system.
So far Mr Putin’s “concessions” have fallen flat. But the real battle will come if an increasingly emboldened opposition continues to undermine the promises of stability that have underpinned his tenure. Its course may depend on how far he is willing to go to stay in power.
Jan 16th 2012, 13:57 by V.P.
"POLENTA doesn't explode" is the gnomic phrase Romanians use to describe the attitude of resigned acceptance typical to the country. But this weekend something snapped. Thousands of people took to the streets in Bucharest and 40 other towns, venting their anger at their leaders' perceived incompetence in dealing with Romania's economic crisis.
The centre of Bucharest was hit by violence on a scale unseen in two decades. Traian Băsescu, the centre-right president, is the main target of the protesters' ire. "Get out, you miserable dog" they chanted, as they hurled paving stones and smoke bombs at riot police. Water cannons and tear gas were used to dispel the crowds.
Sixty people, including several police officers, were injured in the clashes. The police head admitted that his officers may have been "over-zealous" at times. Earlier today Emil Boc, the prime minister, condemned the violence but conceded that his government's austerity measures had "brought hardships upon people".
The immediate trigger for the riots was the resignation of Raed Arafat, a popular official in the health ministry, who stepped down after clashing with Mr Băsescu over a set of controversial reforms to the health-care system. Mr Boc has now offered to revise the plans, and offered an olive branch to Mr Arafat.
The Palestinian-born doctor, who emigrated to Romania in the 1980s, had helped set up a professional medical emergency system. He disagreed with a government proposal to privatise it, as part of its drive to cut public spending. "Quality does not automatically arrive with privatisation. For the patient, the system will be weaker," he said announcing his resignation. A day earlier Mr Băsescu had called Mr Arafat a liar on television, adding that he had "leftist" views.
Mr Băsescu is well known for his undiplomatic, mercurial manner. On Friday, however, as peaceful pro-Arafat demonstrations spread throughout the country, the president asked the government to pull its draft health-care law. He blamed "media manipulation" and was unable to resist noting sarcastically that "the emergency system works perfectly."
The Social-Liberal opposition (USL) has called for bringing elections forward from their scheduled November date "in what seems to be a non-governed country". Its leader, Victor Ponta, has even offered Mr Arafat a job in a future USL government. But Mr Arafat says he has no ambitions to re-enter politics. He has urged protesters to refrain from violence and to resist being "manipulated" by politicians.
What next? Violent protests are inherently difficult to read. But Cristian Pârvulescu from Pro-Democratia, a respected Bucharest-based think-tank, predicts that they could bring down the government.
Jan 16th 2012, 13:25 by G.F. | PRAGUE
THE Czech Republic’s decision to grant Oleksandr Tymoshenko asylum has prompted speculation about whether the country is becoming a base for exiled allies of his wife Yulia, Ukraine’s jailed former prime minister and the heroine of the Orange Revolution. The answer is: not yet.
Mr Tymoshenko is the second member of his wife's circle to have fled Kiev for Prague. (Last year Bohdan Danylyshyn, her long-time economy minister, settled here.) Mr Tymoshenko has told the Ukrainian service of Radio Free Europe that he left Ukraine because he wanted to deprive the authorities there of a lever to pressure his wife, whom they want to “destroy”.
The seven-year prison sentence handed to Mrs Tymoshenko last year for signing a gas deal with Russia has done more than anything to isolate the administration of her arch-rival, President Viktor Yanukovich. In December the European Union postponed signing a free-trade deal with Ukraine because of the case. Mrs Tymoshenko's supporters say Mr Yanukovich wants to stop her from running in parliamentary elections this October.
The Czech Republic was a natural choice for her husband, who has business interests here and is registered to reside in the upscale suburban village of Lidice. Charged in Ukraine as a co-defendant in newly opened criminal cases against his wife—a billionaire who made her fortune in Ukraine’s murky natural-gas business in the 1990s—Mr Tymoshenko has been tight-lipped about the nature of his Czech dealings, which appear to centre on real estate.
He may also have been encouraged by the Czech authorities’ decision to grant amnesty to Mr Danylyshyn, whom the Ukrainian government accuses of squandering $2m of public funds during his time in office. Mr Danylyshyn ended up here by chance, after Ukrainian investigators lured him from Germany to their Prague embassy for questioning. Promised he would not be detained, he was nonetheless arrested by the Czech police on a Ukrainian request. He applied for asylum from jail.
Still, Mr Danylyshyn points out that Ukrainians have had close ties with Czechoslovakia since at least the 1920s, when many intellectuals and other refugees fled the Communist regime. Although he and Mr Tymoshenko are the sole high-profile asylum cases here, Ukrainians make up the Czech Republic’s largest minority, many of them working in low-paid jobs. Mr Tymoshenko’s speedy asylum bid has angered some of those who have spent years waiting for decisions on their own residency applications.
Prague’s significance to the Ukrainian opposition has undoubtedly grown. Mr Danylyshyn set up a non-profit group here to promote reform in his home country and lobby western governments last year. “We’re trying to unite Ukrainian progressive forces in various countries”, he said, “to develop democracy in Ukraine based on European values”.
The Czechs are also happy to stick it to Ukraine, which has condemned Mr Tymoshenko’s asylum as an excuse to stash money for his wife. Karel Schwarzenberg, the forthright foreign minister, characterised Ukraine’s response to Mr Danylyshyn’s asylum last year as a “fit”. Czech diplomats expect worse this time.
But Czech human-rights groups want Mr Schwarzenberg to do more for Ukrainians. The pipe-smoking Habsburg prince is perhaps the strongest pro-European voice in Prague, and hopes to run in the first direct presidential election next year. But he has said that the decision to grant Mr Tymoshenko asylum was made by the interior ministry alone.
It is not yet clear how much that choice was part of a coherent policy toward Ukraine, and how far it was the shunting ajar of an often tightly-shut door to a well connected figure.
Jan 15th 2012, 20:06 by G.C. | WARSAW
LAST week the excitement surrounding the rush for shale gas in Poland was tempered with some unwelcome news. Seven people were charged with offering or receiving bribes in the allocation of concessions to look for the gas in 2011.
The environment ministry handed out the last of 109 exploration concessions in the second half of last year, most of them to foreign firms or their Polish subsidiaries. The prices, at around €100 per square kilometre, were trivial.
The sums involved in the bribery scandal are also not large: thousands rather than hundreds of thousands of euros, according to Waldemar Tyl, Warsaw's deputy public prosecutor. But Mr Tyl insists that the evidence against those accused is compelling.
The seven include the head of the environment ministry's geology department, two other ministry officials and directors of three Polish companies, all of them linked to Petrolinvest, a large energy concern. Neither the ministry nor any of the three companies were prepared to put someone up for interview.
But perhaps more telling than the investigation is what it reveals about Poland's attitude towards what many have hoped will be its new-found resource wealth. For the last few years the country has been getting ever dizzier at the prospect of ending its dependence on Russian gas and becoming a "new Norway". Last summer a US study heightened the fever by suggesting that Poland had 5.3 trillion cubic metres of accessible reserves, more than had been previously estimated.
But some experts, such as Grzegorz Pytel of the Sobieski Institute, a think-tank, have been warning for some time that Poland is as much like gas-rich Turkmenistan or Uzbekistan as it is Norway.
Starting, like the former Soviet states, with laws designed for a climate in which a handful of state-owned firms would be operating, Poland invited investment from multiple domestic and foreign companies. "If you have a system like this where you know that these licences are potentially worth a lot of money, but you can get them virtually for free, it's bound to be corruption-prone," says Mr Pytel. He says the new corruption investigation may be just the tip of an iceberg. Increasingly active environmental campaigners agree.
The Polish government sold the shale concessions so cheaply because of the speculative nature of the investment, and because the investors would have to bear all of its costs. The country has very little home-grown industry to service shale-gas development. Contrast with Norway, which manages to levy taxes worth 78% of revenues on the likes of Exxon because local service companies look after all the technical difficulties involved in extracting gas.
The Polish government insists that the system is not to blame for any individual wrongdoing. Still, it is working on a new legal framework for shale-gas exploitation. A new geological and mining law [paywall] came into force on January 1st, applying EU regulations and simplifying procedures for investors.
Environmentalists, however, complain that although the law gives concession-holders potential buyout rights to properties where they might want to set up a drill, it says nothing about "fracking fluid"—the huge quantities of water and chemicals that shale-gas extractors pump into the ground in order to crack shale rocks and get to the gas.
In the next three months the government should present a new law on the taxation of shale gas. The concurrent corruption investigation could have a sobering effect on a country caught up in flighty dreams of riches.
Jan 13th 2012, 17:53 by A.L.B. | BUDAPEST
THE honeymoon was brief and halting, and now it is over. Tamás Fellegi, Hungary’s chief negotiator, met Christine Lagarde, the managing director of the IMF, yesterday in Washington DC for talks about financial aid. They do not appear to have gone very well. Here's what Ms Lagarde had to say:
I indicated that, before the Fund can determine when and whether to start negotiations for a Stand-By Arrangement, it will need to see tangible steps that show the authorities’ strong commitment to engage on all the policy issues that are relevant to macroeconomic stability. Support of the European authorities and institutions would also be critical for successful discussions of a new program.”
Decoded, this means two things. One, the key phrase is “tangible steps”, which means that no funds will be forthcoming unless Hungary changes its erratic economic policies, such as nationalising pension funds to help plug the budget deficit or imposing crisis taxes on foreign investors.
Two, and perhaps more significant, Hungary will have to meet the European Union’s three conditions before it can receive any IMF assistance: changing the recent laws on the central bank; reconsidering or reversing judicial reforms that are forcing hundreds of judges into early retirement and that hand enormous power to a friend of the family of the prime minister, Viktor Orbán; and guaranteeing the independence of the data ombudsman.
Mr Orbán has said that although there may be room for negotiation on some points, the EU has no jurisdiction over judges’ retirement ages. Nor were threats to extend the EU’s excessive deficit procedure against Hungary justified. The country’s budget-deficit target of 2.5% of GDP this year would make it the EU’s eighth-best performer, he said.
Meanwhile Zsigmond Járai, a former president of the central bank who also served as finance minister under Mr Orbán, has added to the chorus of criticism of the government’s erratic decision-making. After resigning as head of the Budget Council, Mr Járai told Világgazdaság, a financial daily, that the government needed new economic policies to reassure investors and the IMF.
Still, if the hotseat gets too much for Mr Orbán there may soon be an attractive job vacancy. Hungary's president, Pal Schmitt—dubbed "Mr Rubber-Stamp" by some for his swift approval of any piece of government legislation that reaches his desk—is facing calls to resign after a detailed report in HVG, an economic weekly, alleged that he plagiarised his university dissertation.
HVG’s journalists claimed that Mr Schmitt had copied large parts of his dissertation, entitled "Analysis of the Programme of the Modern Olympic Games", from a similar work by Nikolae Georgiev, a Bulgarian sports historian. Mr Schmitt's submitted his work to the College of Physical Education in 1992, and it was graded summa cum laude. Hungarian Spectrum, a liberal blog, has a detailed discussion of the affair.
Mr Schmitt's office strongly denied the accusations, saying the fact that the dissertation's high grade "speaks for itself". The president acknowledged that he had known Mr Georgiev well, and said the two men had co-operated on their research.
Last year a similar scandal brought down Karl Theodor zu Guttenberg, the highly regarded German defence minister. The University of Bayreuth stripped him of his doctorate after he admitted substantially (although inadvertent) copying from other sources.
Under normal circumstances Mr Schmitt would probably survive, even if the allegations were proven. Resignations from public life, and the concomitant loss of salary and privileges, are extremely rare.
That is unless one is engineered. Budapest conspiracy theorists are feverishly whispering that moving from the prime ministerial to the presidential office might allow Mr Orbán to dodge any backtracking demanded by Brussels and the subsequent loss of face.
Now that Mr Orbán has finished much of his work rebuilding Hungary in his own image and placing his numerous nominees in office, why not take a break from the grind of daily politics and remodel himself as the father of the nation. So goes the theory, anyway. All weekend whimsy, of course—and doubtless no more likely than an economy minister deciding to declare war on the IMF even as the country asks for a bail-out.
Jan 13th 2012, 17:16 by V.V.B
SLOVENIA was thrown into political turmoil earlier this week after parliamentarians rejected the appointment of Zoran Janković (pictured), the mayor of Ljubljana and a former retail tycoon, as the country’s new prime minister, a month after his surprise victory in snap elections. After several parties abstained, Mr Janković received just 42 votes out of 47 cast in the 90-strong parliament.
Mr Janković’s defeat came after coalition talks between his centre-left party Positive Slovenia and other parties proved more difficult than the premier-designate had hoped. The crunch came on January 9th, when the small centre-right Citizens’ List rejected a tie-up, saying its differences with Positive Slovenia were too great.
Danilo Türk, Slovenia's president, now has two weeks to name a new candidate or nominate Mr Janković again. Ten deputies can also submit a proposal for prime minister. If those efforts fail, Mr Türk can call a new election.
The first ex-communist country to join the euro, Slovenia is struggling with increasing debt and the threat of further cuts to its credit rating. Interest rates on its debt have soared above 7%. The export-dependent economy is close to recession. Without political leadership Slovenia’s spreads will surely widen further still.
Slovenia urgently needs to cut public spending to comply with the euro zone's proposed new fiscal pact, proposed by Germany and France as they seek to stem the sovereign-debt crisis in Europe. But austerity measures are deeply unpopular.
Most outsiders believe that the best option for Slovenia is a technocratic government, along the lines of those in Italy and Greece. This should, however, be only a transitory solution to ensure a much-needed capital boost for banks and the adoption of fiscal austerity measures. Slovenia has no time to waste on a lengthy search for a consensus government or new elections.
Jan 11th 2012, 19:23 by A.L.B. | BUDAPEST
THE pressure is piling up on the beleaguered Hungarian government. Today the European Commission threatened it with legal action over several new "cardinal" laws that would require a two-thirds majority in parliament to overturn.
The commission is still considering the laws, but today it highlighted concerns over three issues:
- The independence of the central bank. Late last year the Hungarian parliament passed a law which expands the monetary council and takes the power to nominate deputies away from the governor and hands it to the prime minister. A separate law opens the door to a merger between the bank and the financial regulator.
- The judiciary. More than 200 judges over the age of 62 have been forced into retirement and hundreds more face the sack. The new National Judicial Authority is headed by Tünde Handó, a friend of the family of Viktor Orbán, the prime minister.
- The independence of the national data authority.
That wasn't all the commission had to say today. Hungary also received a ticking-off from Olli Rehn (pictured), the economic-affairs commissioner, for not doing enough to tackle its budget deficit. It may now lose access to EU funds.
Slammed in Brussels, the Hungarian government is also under pressure at home. Earlier this week Gordon Bajnai, who served as Socialist prime minister from 2009-10, fired off a broadside that sent shockwaves through the political and media establishments.
After a year and a half of government by the right-wing Fidesz party, wrote Mr Bajnai in a lengthy article on the website of the Patriotism and Progress Public Policy Foundation, democracy has been destroyed in Hungary. The country, he warned, is scarred by division and is drifting towards bankruptcy and away from Europe.
Mr Bajnai called for a radical change of government and a complete political re-orientation. “A new government must have a programme readily at hand that can be applied without delay: a programme that promotes the republic, reconciliation, and recovery.”
Fidesz is rattled by Mr Bajnai, who since leaving office has been teaching at Columbia University in New York. Understandably so. He headed a technocratic administration which stabilised the economy. Unlike his Socialist predecessor, Ferenc Gyurcsány, he was neither part of the old Communist elite nor connected to it by marriage, and so cannot be smeared as a "Komcsi". He is modern in outlook and well regarded internationally.
Moreover, say those how know him, Mr Bajnai has little patience for the narcissistic exceptionalism that shapes Fidesz’s worldview. Exhibit A: the plaintive cry of János Martonyi, the foreign minister, who lamented recently: “The world will never understand our pains and spiritual wounds.” Such self-pity is unlikely to endear the Hungarian government to Brussels or Washington DC (to where it has sent an envoy this week to negotiate with the IMF).
Fidesz won a two-thirds majority in 2010. But its support is evaporating, and analysts say there is a gap in the political market for a centrist pro-business party committed to democratic norms. Mr Bajnai, who has not ruled out a return to politics, would be an obvious candidate to lead it.
Meanwhile, as Hungarians watch the value of their assets vaporise, in large part thanks to the government’s increasingly erratic policies, Mr Orbán smirks his way through press conferences. Here he is dodging questions from a reporter from HVG, an economics weekly, about his responsibility for the crisis and trying to shift the blame to his old enemy András Simor, president of the central bank. The interview ran as follows:
hvg.hu: Do you feel responsible for the falling/weakening forint?
Mr Orbán: You mean the president of the central bank? He did not comment on it.
hvg.hu: No, you, Mr prime minister!
Mr Orbán: The personal responsibility of the president of the central bank was not discussed over the meeting.
hvg.hu: You, your personal…!
Mr Orbán: That neither.
Surrounded by yes-men and grinning flunkies, Mr Orbán seems increasingly out of touch. His future will likely be decided not in the gilded corridors of the Hungarian parliament, but in Brussels and Washington DC.
What happens next? If his hand is forced Mr Orbán can probably endure policy reversals on the independence of the central bank and the data ombudsman. Sorry, he would say to his loyal followers: national crisis, what can you do.
The dismantling of the judiciary would be another matter. If outsiders keep up the pressure and the judicial changes are judged to be in breach of the EU treaty, Mr Orbán would be in a tricky spot. It’s hard to see how he could declare the 200-plus judges his government has forced into retirement ready for office after all, and still sit in his own.
Jan 7th 2012, 18:41 by T.J.
SIX years ago I made a radio programme for the BBC about the former Yugoslavia and the infamous Eurovision Song Contest. I noted two things. First, despite the devastating wars of the 1990s all the ex-Yugoslav constituent countries voted for one another. The second was that Kosovo, which had not yet declared independence, was not represented in the annual pan-European songfest.
Choosing to capitalise on this Yugoslav solidarity, in 2006 the Bosnians chose as their candidate for the competition Hari Mata Hari, a well-known singer whose fame dated from the Yugoslav days. The gambit almost paid off: his haunting song "Lejla" came third. (It was written by Zeljko Joksimovic, who had represented Serbia & Montenegro in the contest in 2004 and is representing Serbia this year).
In the run-up to the contest Hari travelled across the former Yugoslavia giving concerts and interviews, and generally drumming up support for his bid. His near-victory, propelled by votes from Bosnia's neighbours, was an early example of the so-called "Yugosphere" (which I first wrote about here).
As for the Kosovo Albanians, they are still excluded from the contest. After the war with Serbia in 1999, Kosovars who wanted a chance to enter had to compete for the nomination in Albania proper, hoping that their kinsmen would select them. For the radio programme I met Rona Nishliu and her friends in their girl band Flakareshat (pictured). “I said we will be the winners," Ms Nishliu told me. "We will represent Albania.”
Off mic, however, the Kosovars grumbled that the Albanians would never select anyone from Kosovo to represent them. That was then. On December 29th the Albanians selected Ms Nishliu for this year's contest, in Azerbaijan. (This is her entry.) Although in her heart Ms Nishliu may be representing Kosovo (which is still not a Eurovision member) rather than Albania, this may be an early example of the emergence of an "Albanosphere".
Not only does Ms Nishliu have an impressive voice, she has an interesting story. (See a profile of her I wrote for the European Stability Initiative in 2007.) She grew up in what is now Serb-controlled north Mitrovica in north Kosovo (which we have covered extensively on Eastern Approaches). There is now some irony in the words of the Serbs who expelled Ms Nishliu and her family from their home during the NATO bombing of Serbia:
When the bombing started in 1999, on April 4, men with military uniform came into our home and threatened us and told us we had to leave. They beat my father in front of us; me, my mother, my brother, my aunt and grandmother. They said: "You can't stay. You've got to go!" My grandmother said: "Where should we go?" They said: "Go to your country, go to Albania." My grandmother said: "Kosova is our country. I was born here and have lived 65 years here."
The many Europeans who regard the Eurovision Song Contest as a bit of a joke may not be aware that it is taken rather more seriously in pockets of the continent. Azerbaijan views this year's show as an opportunity to burnish its rather tarnished image.
For Kosovars Ms Nishliu's presence in Baku, on the same bill as Mr Joksimovic no less, will be seen as a great triumph, not least because Azerbaijan and Serbia are close allies. As I wrote here, the pair make common cause because, just as Serbia rejects Kosovo’s independence, Azerbaijan rejects that of Nagorno-Karabakh.
Jan 5th 2012, 19:03 by The Economist online
Our Budapest correspondent discusses a new appointment to Hungary's central bank, opaque lawmaking and the country's emerging bunker mentality
Jan 5th 2012, 11:30 by E.L.
IN THE "Wi(l)der Europe" column at the Economist Group's Brussels-based weekly, European Voice, the columnist has been dishing out his lighthearted bouquets and brickbats for the past year. Last year's Foot In Mouth award for unfortunate public utterances went to Lithuania’s president, Dalia Grybauskaitė. She escapes mention this year, although Hungary's Viktor Orbán, given the Black Box prize for unpredictability, gets another boo. Readers with long memories may recall the 2007 awards, which had a slapstick quality too. So, with the proviso that these are not official Economist prizes or censures, and represent only the view of the author...
The Sleeping Beauty award goes to the protestors in Russia, who finally woke to the corruption and incompetence of their leaders in the demonstrations following the rigged Duma elections in December. All they need to do now is raise their numbers ten-fold, spread to 100 major cities, find some decent leaders and a clear programme and negotiate the regime’s surrender: then 2012 could be the year that Russia exorcises the Chekist curse. Frogs may turn into princes too.
The Steel Tongue award for timely and brave political rhetoric goes to Radek Sikorski, Poland’s foreign minister (disclosure: a friend of mine for 20 years) for his speech in Berlin on the euro crisis. I paraphrased it by saying that Poland now feared German inaction more than Germans in action. Giving explicit Polish backing for a German-led federal Europe not only slayed a historic neurosis inside Poland (showing how out-of-date and marginal anti-Germanism there has become); it also underlined Poland’s emergence as a European diplomatic and economic heavyweight.
For a second year in a row, Estonia wins the Golden Swot award. With 8% GDP growth in 2011, it was Europe’s best-performing economy. Andrus Ansip is almost Europe’s longest-serving prime minister (only the eternal Jean Claude Juncker of Luxembourg beats him). He was re-elected last year, along with Toomas Hendrik Ilves, the country’s waspish American-educated president. Complacency is Estonia’s biggest danger for 2012. Others should be so lucky.
The Alchemy prize goes to Lithuania’s government for its efforts to squeeze gold from the leaden mass of the country’s state-owned industries. This unsung success story, in the teeth of political opposition from corrupt local lobbies, deserves careful study elsewhere (not least in Greece). Running state assets properly produces both public goods and revenues for the state.
The Aladdin’s Lamp goes to the EU energy commissioner, Günther Oettinger, and all those involved in liberalising Europe’s energy market, diversifying its supply sources and building the gas interconnectors that have turned Gazprom from a menace to a nuisance. Gazprom’s own incompetence wins a special Bear’s Kiss commendation, for disillusioning even the Germans about Russia’s potential as a reliable energy partner.
On the other side of the ledger, Hungary’s prime minister, Viktor Orbán, wins the Blue Danube award for political disappointment, having squandered his huge political capital on petty feuds, peripheral issues and political stunts. Hungary deserved so much better and heads into 2012, debt-ridden and misruled, as the region’s basket case. Runners up are the Czech and Slovak governments, which came to power on bold promises of cleaning up corruption, and have done disappointingly little.
Despite its commendable complaints about Hungary’s slide away from democracy, the American administration wins the Invisible Man award for inattention to the region. America’s “reset” with Russia and the EU’s Eastern Partnership jointly share the Crash and Burn prize for snappily named but ill-designed policies that came unstuck in 2011.
The Migraine award goes to the government in Ukraine for creating Europe’s biggest political headache. How do you help a vitally important country that despises and distrusts its potential friends? The jailing of opposition leader Yulia Tymoshenko marked a particularly flagrant example of politicised justice.
The Evil Eye award for malignant incompetence goes jointly to the authorities in Poland and Lithuania, for handing over banking data that enabled the regime in Minsk to jail the heroic human-rights activist Ales Bialiatski on bogus charges of tax evasion. For that, and for the jailing of other political prisoners, such as Andrei Sannikov (Sannikau) the Belarusian authorities gain the dread Mordor Dark Star. May retribution for them, and freedom for their captives, follow swiftly in 2012.
Jan 3rd 2012, 15:45 by A.L.B. | BUDAPEST
THE symbolism was telling. Inside Budapest's Opera House, Hungary’s great and good were knocking back sparkling wine at a gala event to celebrate the inauguration of the country’s new constitution, which came into effect on January 1st. Outside, on Andrássy Avenue, tens of thousands of protestors demanded its withdrawal.
Brushing off the demonstrations, President Pal Schmitt hailed Hungary’s new "basic law" as a brave new dawn. It may well be, but probably not the kind that Hungary’s rulers are hoping for. As the blog Contrarian Hungarian reports, protestors are increasingly taking control of the streets. The Andrássy Avenue march was just the latest in a series of public actions against the government's growing autocratic tendencies and its relentless centralisation of power.
Monday’s protests were significant as well as symbolic. This was the first time that opposition parties—the Socialists, the Democratic Coalition and the green-liberal LMP—had joined forces with street activists. Peter Konya, leader of the Hungarian Solidarity Movement, welcomed what he called “the long absent co-operation between civil groups and parties of the democratic opposition”.
Gabor Ivanyi, a Methodist pastor, told the crowd that “There is no truth where laws are passed forcefully, without consultations, where people live in fear and where people are not equal.” Mr Ivanyi is one of 13 former dissidents and liberal politicians to have signed a letter calling for the European Union to intervene and protect Hungarian democracy.
Government officials deny that Hungarian democracy is in danger. How, they ask, can this be so when an enormous crowd is free to demonstrate outside the very building where they are celebrating? In 2010 the right-wing Fidesz party won a two-thirds parliamentary majority in a free and fair election, they argue, and the government is simply fulfilling its mandate of radical change and renewal.
But as the government brushes off requests from the EU, the IMF, the European Central Bank and the United States to reconsider key legislation that may be in breach of its international treaty obligations, such arguments sound increasingly unconvincing.
Dec 30th 2011, 11:29 by T.J.
OUT of the blue, Bosnia’s leaders have agreed to form a government, almost 15 months after the October 2010 general election. The country's politicians had supposedly been on the verge of agreement for so long that most observers had lost faith they would ever be able to strike a deal. There was even talk of a new election.
The deal came on December 28th. “We did not get what we thought we should, but no one got everything they wanted,” said Milorad Dodik, president of the Republika Srpska, the Serbian-dominated half of the country. A corruption investigation into Mr Dodik was dropped on the same day the deal was struck. Vjekoslav Bevanda, a member of one of the two main Bosnian Croat parties, has been nominated for the post of prime minister.
Mr Dodik and the Republika Srpska usually get the blame for the failure of central institutions in Bosnia. But in this case the formation of the Council of Ministers was held up by bitter disputes between the main Croat parties and the technically multi-ethnic, but mostly Bosniak, Social Democratic Party, led by Zlatko Lagumdzija.
Surprise at the deal soon gave way to relief among many observers, although it could be three more months until the government starts work. But Anes Alic, a local analyst, is sceptical that it will bring much change to Bosnia:
What is left of the ruling parties’ mandate (with 15 months already lost) will be characterized by the traditional political obstruction and nationalist rhetoric which the majority of the electorate has grown to accept as par for the course.
Republika Srpska officials will stay the course of attempting to diminish the power of state institutions, and hints of secession will continue to circulate. Bosnian Croats will continue to work towards the creation of a third entity in the country with a Bosnian Croat majority under the perception that their ethnic identity is under threat. Bosniaks will continue to fight both without any compromise.
Bosnia is in essence a federal state, so most of the everyday work of government is the preserve of its two so-called "entities" (the Republika Srpska and the Bosniak-Croat Federation). But the lack of a central government has stymied European integration, stopped the flow of EU funds and led to a collapse in foreign investment.
Other tasks have been neglected, too. For example, when Croatia joins the EU in July 2013 Bosnia will no longer be able to export eggs, meat and dairy produce to its neighbour because of a lack of agreement on whether it is the state or the entities that should be in charge of veterinary and sanitary regulation.
Bosnia's leaders now say they will tackle several other outstanding issues. One of them is the so-called Sejdic-Finci ruling of the European Court of Human Rights. Under the terms of the Dayton Accords, which ended the Bosnian war in 1995, certain jobs in Bosnia are restricted by ethnicity. Only Serbs, Croats and Bosniaks are eligible for the country’s three-member presidency, for example. The court ruled two years ago that this illegally discriminates against anyone who either is not a member of one of these groups, or who does not want to identify themselves as such.
The inability of Bosnian politicians to get their act together has led to unprecedented levels of gloom about the future of the country. But as Wednesday's deal shows, they are quite capable of working together when they want to. The pity of it is that they have wasted so much time in a country that is already lagging behind in so many areas.
(Picture credit: AFP)
Dec 29th 2011, 13:20 by A.L.B | BUDAPEST
LÁSZLÓ KÖVER is not a man to be messed with. Not only does he have the most luxuriant moustache in Hungary's parliament, he is also speaker of that august institution.
And parliament, he has declared, will not be disrespected. Mr Köver has banned index.hu, Hungary’s most popular news portal, from reporting from the chamber after two of its reporters made a video entitled "Merry Christmas Hungarian democracy".
The video mocks the government, its relentless centralisation and the supine MPs of the ruling Fidesz party. This bunch are so obedient that many have just voted themselves out of a job, after parliament approved a new electoral law reducing the number of MPs from 386 to 200. (Those likely to lose their seats have all been promised comfortable sinecures in the state administration, say diplomatic insiders.)
But behind the seasonal fun, there is a serious point. Parliament is being serially disrespected, say critics: not by journalists, but by a government that has rushed through a tsunami of legislation with barely any consultation, and which ignores or overrides opposition proposals.
Even Mr Köver, a hardcore Fidesz loyalist, has admitted as much. Yet Fidesz MPs’ latest proposal is to further speed up the pace of change.
Parliament’s press office says that Index may return to its gilded corridors once it provides guarantees that its reporters will behave respectfully. For now the news portal is reporting on proceedings via state television, with expert punditry and analysis from "Vak Páli" (Blind Paul)
Meanwhile, in the interests of journalistic solidarity, Eastern Approaches offers the following joke, bravely facing the risk of itself being banned from parliament:
Q: What is the difference between a flock of sheep and the Fidesz parliamentary fraction?
A: Sheep have a mind of their own.
Over to you, Mr Speaker.
Dec 28th 2011, 13:50 by T.J. | PRISTINA AND STEPANAKERT
EARLIER this year Vasily Atajanyan, the acting foreign minister of Nagorno-Karabakh, told me that his "country" would recognise Kosovo if the former Yugoslav province reciprocated. I conveyed this message to Enver Hoxhaj, Kosovo's foreign minister. He declined to take up his counterpart's offer, but thought long and hard about how to do so politely.
This little episode speaks volumes for realpolitik in international relations, especially when it comes to small countries.
In Soviet times Nagorno-Karabakh was a mostly Armenian-populated autonomous region in Azerbaijan. In Yugoslav times Kosovo was a mostly Albanian-populated autonomous province of Serbia.
Armenians fought a war against the Azeris in the early 1990s, and the Kosovo Albanians against the Serbs in 1998-99. Nagorno-Karabakh declared independence in 1991. Serbia’s administration and security forces were expelled from Kosovo by NATO in 1999. The region was then run by the United Nations. It declared independence in 2008.
On the face of it there are plenty of similarities between Soviet breakaway statelets like Nagorno-Karabakh and Kosovo. But there are also many differences. No countries have recognised Nagorno-Karabakh as an independent state, but more than 80 have recognised Kosovo. Western countries emphasise that they believe that the Kosovo case is not a precedent for others.
In Stepanakert, the capital of Nagorno-Karabakh, this argument cuts no ice. Indeed, some have a clear case of "recognition envy". Marcel Petrosian, a foreign-ministry official, says that Nagorno-Karabakh has “stronger arguments” for independence than Kosovo does.
European and other countries that recognise Kosovo are, he says, practising “double standards.” Mr Atajanyan echoes this. “We see Kosovo as a precedent,” he says. “It is a vivid example of how conflicts like ours can be solved.”
The two conflicts see Armenians and Kosovars arguing in favour of a people’s right to self-determination, and Serbia and Azerbaijan defending the the right of a state to defend its territorial integrity.
There are inconsistencies everywhere you look. Russia, an ally of Serbia, does not acknowledge the independence of Kosovo. But, unlike any Western countries, it recognised the breakaway states of Abkhazia and South Ossetia following its war with Georgia in 2008. Serbia might like to make common cause with Georgia but does not wish to irritate Russia. Likewise Georgia won’t work with Serbia because of the potential damage to relations with the United States.
Likewise, the Armenians have been forced to fashion shrewd arguments for not recognising Kosovo's independence in order not to antagonise their Russian patrons. Armenia has not in fact recognised Nagorno-Karabakh, as it reminds American diplomats when they come calling asking for it to recognise Kosovo.
Serbia and Armenia may be on different sides when it comes to territorial integrity. But they have much in common, too. Both are ageing nations with falling populations. Both talk of their respective enemies in the same terms, fearing the respective facts that both Kosovo Albanians and Azeris are young and Muslim, and dominate areas which they consider theirs by historic right.
Hayk Khanumyan, an Armenian journalist and civil-society activist, employs a novel argument. Kosovo, he says, is an “historic region of Serbia” that Albanians have taken. (Albanians, needless to say, would disagree with this analysis.) But the real comparison is between Kosovo and Nakichevan, a large Azeri exclave separated from Azerbaijan proper by Armenian territory.
Nakichevan, says Mr Khanumyan, was once Armenian. It was lost to the Azeris as Kosovo was lost to Albanians. Nagorno-Karabakh, by contrast, has not been lost and must be defended.
Back to Mr Hoxhaj. His message to Mr Atajanyan is that Kosovo can only have formal relations with members of the UN, even though Kosovo itself has not yet joined. "We understand the aspirations of others but we have to be careful," he adds. "We can’t shape the destiny of other small nations but we have to protect what we have and sometimes doing nothing is better than making a mistake."
In other words, just as the Armenians sympathise with the Kosovars but don’t want to annoy the Russians, the Kosovars don’t want to irk their Western backers. Such are the basics of diplomacy in the twilight zone of international relations, in which small states and nations must manoeuvre to secure their best interests.
(Picture credit: Tim Judah)
Dec 27th 2011, 12:59 by T.E. | TIRASPOL
TIME was when Russia's writ ran long and strong in Transdniestria: political analysis consisted chiefly of working out where the political and other largesse was being distributed. Not any more. On Sunday, voters in the self-proclaimed republic inflicted a humiliating defeat on Moscow’s favoured candidate for the presidency. In the final round of voting, Anatoly Kaminsky, whose Renewal party enjoys the backing of Moscow, got just 19.67 per cent of the vote. Yevgeny Shevchuk, an independent candidate, garnered an overwhelming 73.88 per cent. Igor Smirnov, the long-serving strongman president, dropped out after coming third in the first round two weeks ago.
The 47-year-old victor, who not too many years ago was a hard-partying fixture of Seven Fridays and the Cherry Club, late night haunts in Tiraspol, the capital, is widely seen as the candidate of the province’s disaffected young, who are fed up with a state of affairs that locks the province’s 500,000 people in a time-warped world of red stars and Lenin statues, and giving them passports that no other country recognises
He told Reuters that his focus would be on improving relations with neighbouring Moldova and Ukraine, adding: “My first task will be to work with our neighbours to ensure free movement of people and goods.”
The result takes Transdniestria into uncharted territory: since breaking away from Moldova in 1992, the mainly Russian-speaking region has been dominated by Mr Smirnov, who ran the region’s largest metallurgical plant before the break-up of the Soviet Union turned him into the champion of the Russian minority in Moldova against what he claimed was ethno-nationalism by the majority Romanian-speaking population.
It has been clear for some time that Moscow was losing patience with the 70-year-old Mr Smirnov, a peppery and volatile character fond of Black Sobranie cigarettes and salty jokes. It had earlier flirted with Mr Shevchuk, but to no avail. In this election it clearly wanted Mr Kaminsky, promising some $300m to the cash-strapped province to emphasise the point.
Now, according to Kálmán Mizsei, who until this year was the European Union’s envoy charged with finding a resolution to the conflict between Moldova and Transdnistria, the EU needs to embrace Mr Shevchuk. “He is a moderniser, and he took personal risks to get to this point,” he said. Mr Shevchuk was an ally of Mr Smirnov until 2009, when he resigned from his post as speaker of the Supreme Soviet, the province’s parliament, in protest, he says, against corrupt electoral practices.
The subtext, of course, is that, the more support Mr Shevchuk receives from Brussels, which is in a position to put pressure on the government in Chișinău, Moldova’s capital, the more room he will have to manoeuvre against Moscow, which supports the province financially and guarantees its de facto independence by stationing 1,500 troops there.
It would be a great coup for Mr Shevchuk, Mr Mizsei suggests, if he succeeds in re-establishing railway links between Moldova and Transnistria, a 2010 promise which Chișinău has yet to deliver on. That would help Transdniestria (a narrow strip of land between the Dniester river and the Ukrainian border, which contains most of the erstwhiel industrial base of the former Moldavian Soviet Socialist Republic) export its excellent cognacs and textiles. And this is an area where Brussels could apply judicious pressure.
Progress is likely to be slow, and nobody , least of all Mr Shevchuk, expects settlement of the conflict over the province any time soon. He told Itar-Tass: “Russia is a giant country, a peacekeeper-country that protects our citizens and provides aid to Transdniestri. A key priority in my foreign policy will be building stronger ties with Russia, with which we plan to reach a higher level of cooperation.”
Moscow is already looking to the future, smoothing over the snub it has received from the province’s voters by saying it is satisfied with any outcome that sees the back of Mr Smirnov.
But what is clear is that voters have done what they can towards resolving one of the region's longest-running conflicts.
Dec 26th 2011, 13:17 by The Economist online
IN RUDYARD KIPLING'S "The Jungle Book" Mowgli is led astray by the Bandar-log, a tribe of monkeys who, explains Mowgli's chum Baloo, ignore all the rules and “throw nuts and filth on our heads.” Only Kaa the Rock Snake, an old and fickle hunter, is able to entrance these undisciplined apes and make them do his bidding.
Such was the unfortunate image that Vladimir Putin chose to conjure earlier this month when he spoke of his attitude to tens of thousands of Russians who had come out to issue a protest against December 4th's rigged parliamentary election. The demonstrators, claimed the prime minister, were paid by foreign powers: “What can one say, in this case? One can say, in the end, ‘Come to me, banderlogi.’”
Yet if Mr Putin ever had Kaa-like powers of hypnosis, they are failing fast. His suggestion that the protesters were nothing but simian wreckers surely drove only more Russians to join a new rally on Moscow’s Sakharov Avenue on December 24th, as did his assertion that their white ribbons looked like contraceptives.
Up to 80,000 citizens showed up for Saturday's demonstration, about double the turnout for the previous protest, on December 10th. That in turn was the biggest the city had seen for 20 years.
The crowds streamed into the broad avenue in the north of the city, named after the Soviet-era dissident Andrei Sakharov, to face a stage emblazoned with the words, “Russia will be free!”
Among them was Sergei Shashko, 53, a farmer from Kaluga region, in western Russia. “This is a bourgeois revolution against a feudal state,” he said. “Today people have a little more money and they want something different. They’re no longer happy to go to a bureaucrat for help and be kicked or ignored instead.”
On the stage, the diverse leaders of Russia’s political opposition gave fiery speeches. Alexei Navalny, the blogger-lawyer and heart-throb of the protest movement, fresh from serving a 15-day prison sentence following a previous demonstration, cried: “I see enough people here to take the Kremlin and the White House [Russian government] right now. But we are a peaceful force. We won’t do that—yet.”
There was a clear consensus in the crowd. Protestors spoke of endemic corruption and predictable politics. Some expressed their wishes to emigrate. Many demostrators held witty signs or inflated condoms, referring to Mr Putin’s barbs. A giant python on a placard squeezed the life out of Russia. There was a group of banderlogi: young men in chimpanzee masks.
Roman Dobrokhotov, a 28-year-old anti-Kremlin activist, released a huge portrait of Mr Putin on a steel frame, attached to helium balloons. “Crawl away, worm!” read the slogan on one. To cheers, the portrait was sucked into the sky, disappearing from view.
The tipping point for many Russians, said Mr Dobrokhotov, was Mr Putin’s announcement in September that he would return to the presidency next March, replacing his one-term stooge, Dmitry Medvedev.
“The protesters are no longer just classical democrats, the intelligentsia, and pensioners,” he said. “Now they are also students, and people in their thirties and forties with good cars and nice clothes. They feel a lack of freedom. They know they can choose a new phone, choose the food they want. But they can’t choose their political leaders.”
Dec 26th 2011, 10:28 by P L-R | PRAGUE
A Czech of the post-1989 generation offers his personal reflection on Václav Havel's life and times.
In the days since Václav Havel's death, Czechs and citizens from around the world have been slowly saying goodbye, paying their respects to a man who profoundly inspired them and whose moral presence the world so desperately needed. In the three days of state mourning, a space opened in which we have begun to comprehend the immensity of our loss, the depth of what happened to us with his passing. There is, within this space, the recognition of Havel’s great gift to us: not only the courage to hope and to see a future different and brighter than the present, but also the promise that politics itself can be caring and honest, humble and good, that politics can be humane. The gift of a humane politics is one that can now endure only in our hearts and in our efforts; it is a project begun but of course never finished by Havel. He gestured at it—this humanity can always only be gestured towards. It is, as all ideals, unachievable by our flawed and finite selves, the imperfection and vulnerability of which Havel understood so very well. But this, our inheritance from a great and kind man, is worthy of our reflection and, ultimately—as our task—worthy of our support.
Thousands followed behind Havel’s body—in dignity, with hushed voices and solemn steps—from where he had lain in the Old Town, across the Charles Bridge, climbing through the Lesser Quarter to the Prague Castle. As Havel’s casket was moved from the hearse to a horse-drawn military caisson—the same used for Czechoslovakia’s first President, Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk—the procession spread into the square beneath the palatial gates, awaiting the final leg of Havel’s journey before his state funeral.
Dec 24th 2011, 12:18 by K.Z. | PRAGUE
REINHARD HEYDRICH, the wartime Nazi boss of Bohemia and Moravia, is said to have called Czechs laughing beasts. Yes, Czechs can be subversive, disparaging and unpatriotic. Most flee cities to chill out at their country homes on national holidays. Four decades of Communist rule, with its mandatory May Day parades and other empty socialist rites cemented Czech disgust of state rituals.
Václav Havel, a pedantic master of ceremonies, placed importance on forming new public rituals in the newly democratic state. His passing on Sunday showed how to return meaning to public rituals. Thousands of Czechs flocked to the Prague Castle on Friday for the last occasion to bid farewell to their president: Czechoslovakia's last and the Czech Republic's first.
The mourners wore tricolour ribbons in national red, blue and white just as in the days of the Velvet Revolution that brought down Communist rule in 1989. Some said they came to relive the friendly mutuality of those revolution days. "He was a brave man compared to the rest of our politicians. He was not arrogant and he did not steal," said Jana Kubanova, 30, who brought her four-month-old daughter.
Many young people in the crowd would have had only a faint recollection of the Communist rule, if any and the Velvet Revolution that brought Havel to power. We are losing the greatest Czech of our time, of our modern history," said Michal Murad, 25, a law student from Strakonice. "He represents my first memories. I was three years old and I remember him speaking from a balcony."
It did not put off Havel's fans that the pompous state funeral, whose bits were partly modeled on the memorial ceremonies for Czechoslovakia's first president Tomas Garrigue Masaryk, was orchestrated by his arch enemy and successor in office, Václav Klaus. "That is really like a twist from one of his absurd plays," said political analyst Jiří Pehe, Havel's collaborator and former adviser. Klaus, who publicly spoke about Havel three times since he died on Sunday, stayed away from bashing his predecessor. "Those of us who like Havel were worried when Klaus began to speak," said Martina Utikalová, 47, a midwife from Kladno. "I was surprised that what he said was actually nice."
At times it seemed that for his admirers and close associates, Havel has become an infallible God-like cult figure. When this reporter visited the set of Havel's film debut based on his last play, Leaving, she could not find a single detractor. When the film opened, most reviewers took pains not to slam the ex-president. After departure from office, Havel, who was nervous about returning to writing plays instead of speeches, once lamented to an interviewer that it was difficult to elicit an honest opinion of his work from his friends.
But a great number of his fellow countrymen were not enthusiastic about their former leader. Czechs often condemned Havel as a naive elitist, too detached from realities of their everyday lives during the painful transformation from an ailing centrally-planned economy to capitalism. Many blamed the president for the country's economic woes. The overhaul, spearheaded by free-market-worshipping Klaus, was tainted by vast embezzlement and corruption. Havel, himself frustrated with the theft and fraud, turned from the Velvet Revolution's hero to the nation's lightning rod.
Given the amount of criticism he had faced at home, his death sparked almost an astonishing outpouring of national mourning in the streets and the media. The grumbling aside, Czechs lost a leader who made them feel special. "While we were scolding him, we were also proud of him. He made us visible in the world," said sociologist Jiřina Šiklová, a Havel friend and Charter 77 signatory.
When Havel died, Czechs lost an anchor. No longer they can take pride in the fairy-tale hero who preaches those naive yet indispensable cornerstones of life - ethics, courtesy, tolerance, responsibility. They are on their own now. Šiklová compared the loss to a loss of a parent. "People felt that there is someone who will take care of matters. Now we are forced to grow up and look for that figure in our own ranks," she said.
(Picture credit: AFP)
Eastern approaches deals with the economic, political, security and cultural aspects of the eastern half of the European continent. It incorporates the long-running "Europe.view" weekly column. The blog is named after the wartime memoirs of the British soldier Sir Fitzroy Maclean.
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