‘Not all Russians are thugs’

An interview with psychologist Lyudmila Petranovskaya

Lyudmila Petranovskaya is an expert in historical and political psychology. Her recent public speeches have addressed social depression, learned helplessness, the post-soviet generation's trauma, and the psychology of poverty. Meduza special correspondent Katerina Gordeeva sat down with Petranovskaya, the country's most sought-after family psychologist, to discuss Russia's “ugly” national narrative, the threat of mass poverty, and Russians' “accumulated fat,” which Petranovskaya argues is delaying a catastrophic decline in living standards.

They say you can sense the spirit of the times better than others, and that you can feel what direction things are headed. Where are we now, in your opinion? It seems like the peak of aggression has passed?

Yes, for a while aggression was expanding in every direction. What's more, it was spreading horizontally, because the means of expressing it vertically were closed off completely. This suppressed aggression was spilling out.

Remember, there was a case when a woman beat up her child, because she couldn't withdraw cash from an ATM? Such aggression is a sign of our overall depressive desperation—of the feeling that your hands are tied and you have nowhere to go with your problems, which have been accumulating for quite some time and are beginning to overflow.

However, I believe that this condition of horizontal aggression will soon be over, because, in the long run, this blocking of vertical expression is not based on repression, but rather on a social contract (between citizens and the authorities): “We raise living standards for you and you don’t bug us. We do whatever we want.” This was the mutual understanding.

So it was a straight trade of freedom for food?

I wouldn't put it that radically. People in our country got so used to living in poverty and facing the risk of losing everything at any moment, that a break allowing us a rest—a full stomach and a chance to dive into the happiness of consumerism (which Soviet mores prohibited)—was exactly what people needed. In this sense, the population used the 2000s to eat well and restore their internal balance.

You mean people were falling in a bit with the petty bourgeoisie, who were so thoroughly condemned in the Soviet Union?

Something like that. You see, it's not a normal situation, when a person has to break off a part of their own personality. In the USSR, the pressure was coming from all directions. In Soviet times, the newspaper Komsomolskaya Pravda claimed that wishing for a pair of jeans was immoral, that it was consumerism, and so on. That is why this prosperity that fell upon us in the 2000s seems to have been therapeutic, in a sense. This part of our personalities returned from the ghetto, and, damn it, we walked around in high-heel Louboutins for a while.

So you've got nothing against the people who chose jeans and food in 1991, over freedom, as they say today?

No one took to the streets because of jeans, or food, or freedom. Regime change doesn't happen like that. At a certain point, a national consensus emerges, and everyone decides that things can't continue any longer as they have. That’s it. The old life is dead.

And all of us made exactly this decision in 1991. I believe that we, as a society, are currently just around the corner from making the same decision again.

You're saying this is inevitable?

I’m not talking necessarily about a revolution. It’s just that at some point people understand that the old life is dead.

The hardliners don’t seem to think so.

The takeover in 1991 happened not because a certain amount of people went into the streets. The old life was simply over and its voice had become barely audible. This is because the social contract of the old life was the following: He who pays for dinner usually dances with the girl. And this contract was broken. And it wasn't society that broke the deal. You simply cannot get back to the broken contract. When there's no dinner to pay for, the girl isn't likely to fancy a dance.

And what about the sentiments of Russia's “true patriots,” who say we'll persevere, that we're used to it, and that the main goal should be sticking it to our enemies?

When did we have such sentiments? Maybe two years ago, a year ago, even six months ago, when living standards weren't yet falling, while it was still popular to show animosity towards foreigners. Now we've forgotten all this, as we struggle to make it to next month's paycheck.

And it's not like we're talking about scrapping together the money for a new car, or an outing to a restaurant or a water park. People don't have enough money to buy groceries! This is the moment when most people find that they can no longer bear it.

That being said, Russians have lived fairly well for the past several years. We've had more than enough, and—even with the ruble's falling value—our living standards haven't plummeted. The decline has been slow and smooth, and it's varied depending on the region and the local reserves. This is what I mean by “accumulated fat.” In some regions, the collapse will be sudden, and in others it will be drawn out. But the overall meaning is the same and it's quite clear: without money, Russians have no reason to love the regime.

Isn't that true for any regime?

I wouldn't say that. At least the Bolsheviks came to people with beautiful and bright ideas that were able to enchant and charm. There's a reason they attracted truly great and interesting artists, writers, and directors who were listening to the music of the revolution. Yes, they starved and were executed, but they got high on these marvelous ideas, because they were genuinely inspiring. Whereas Putin and his clique do not have any beautiful ideas.

The idea of Russia “rising from its knees,” which scares everyone abroad, seems to be quite popular among the population.

First of all, this idea is not beautiful; it's far from Communist ideas, which were truly bright and noble. It's common knowledge that this is a thug's idea, and the majority of Russian citizens aren't thugs, despite the hypocritical opinion of the liberal opposition, which I don't accept. Kant said that morality is the same for all people. This means that the idea of liking everyone fearing us could be very pleasant, if I'm afraid of everyone. In that case, I wouldn't have to be scared, if everyone were scared of me. But this misses the point, which has more to do with secret (psychological) needs.

I don't believe that many people are seriously thinking about Moscow as the Third Rome or the sacred mission of the Russian people. These passionate people are very few, and they represent a really tiny percentage of the country. Ordinary people are usually interested in whether or not the authorities have a plan for our future. And here comes the problem—this feeling that we'll be dragged back to the Middle Ages, to a caste society, to some kind of pre-industrial Russia.

Well, none of this is what you'd call breaking news.

Okay, but everything is aggravated when social obligations disappear. Education and medical care become more expensive, but money is suddenly more scarce. And everyone sees! Then, society starts asking itself why the hell it should put up with this regime at all.

Okay, let’s say Russians' love for the authorities has ended. But not liking a regime is not enough to bring about change.

That's true. And this is the reason that something has to be done. Sure, it's possible not to sour on the regime and turn to drinking. You can also numb yourself with drugs. But this doesn't work.

The next thing we have to ask ourselves is this: “If we don’t like something, what do we do next?” Unfortunately, we're not great at dealing with this kind of question. Our capacity to address an issue like this has been wrecked and ruined for years now, and we're effectively left naked. We don't know how to respond when we're disgruntled. We don't know how to act.

You could file a petition?

Right. That's the most our society is capable of doing. But putting pressure on your local government to try to effect the improvements you want—this is somehow beyond us. And we couldn't get by without our wonderful liberal democratic oppositionists, who throw up their hands every time people start asking questions that relate concretely to their own lives. The liberals gasp and say, “Oh, dear. These sheep! They still love Putin, so we won't offer them any help. These sheep have Stalin's portrait hanging. They belong with him.” And so on, in this vein.

You know, I've always been astonished by the similarities between the regime and Russia's opposition. They have the same contempt for the citizens and use similar rhetoric.

So what should people in this situation do? We're talking about individuals who aren't going to side with anyone, but they also want change. It seems like small-scale theory fails here.

It fails if you say, “I'll plant a tree. I'll help a kid. I'll help an old woman across the street. And that's it.” If you refuse to go any further. But look up, and what do you see? You see there are bigger problems.

For example, our mayor steals money and doesn't install traffic lights. That's why elderly women need help across the street. You're free to put on blinders and say, “Jesus, it's too much. I can only worry about the old women—not the rest of it,” but you're consciously diminishing and devaluing the bigger issues.

These little stories can transform into forms of civic engagement, developing from the bottom up: people help the elderly across the street, then they get fed up with needing to do it all the time, and they start asking where all the traffic lights are. So they pay a visit to the authorities, without any sinister intentions, and ask, “Are you aware that there are old ladies here crossing the street all day long? Could we get a traffic light?” And officials respond by waving their fingers, saying, “That's none of your business!” Or they just lie. And that's when people begin wondering, “What is this crap?”

And they go write something lovely on Facebook, for example.

That doesn't really happen, no. People say, “Next time, we won't vote for you.” Then the authorities say, “Who cares how you vote! We'll count them as we always count them.” And finally some people will start to think, “Hey now. They've got some nerve!” And that's where the situation begins to change.

To be honest, it's hard to think this could bring about much change. At this pace, how many millennia would it take to develop Russia's civil society?

Consider how much time it's taken in Europe. This kind of thing takes a while. Nowhere has there ever been a sudden, bright, and beautiful revolution, where everyone shows up and says, “Liberty, equality, fraternity. Poof!” and then prosperity rains down. No, there's always a long period of revolutions, counter-revolutions, bribes, fighting, enormous casualties, and finally the colossal work of building a new social consensus.

In our case, everything depends heavily on external circumstances. Say something happens in the Middle East, and oil prices bounce back to $60-$70 per barrel. In this case, everyone would try to turn back the clock, when the “girl” agreed to dance, so long as she got her fancy meal.

Or consider the opposite possibility: oil falls to $10 per barrel, and Russia finds itself rapidly and catastrophically impoverished. State institutions would no longer be able to pay wages or pensions, hospitals would close down, and doctors would barricade themselves in, unable to receive any patients—even those with medical emergencies. Hungry teachers would go on strike, and the regions outside Moscow and St. Petersburg would begin clamoring for more sovereignty.

This is a bad, a very bad situation. It's bad because people in this scenario won't be thinking about improving the country or about the opportunities that freedom brings. Instead, they'll stand guard over their tiny plots of land and look after the potato crops they'll need to feed their families.

And what happens, if things continue as they are now?

I think it would actually be okay: a gradual, not shocking, awakening. There'd be a realization that the former social contract is no longer possible, that the authorities have no golden goose, and that the relationship between the state and society needs to be reconsidered. In other words, people are going to have the time they need to understand that they can't keep feeding the state. And they'll realize they don't want to, either.

You think there are still people out there who have yet to realize that Russia is facing a terrifying spike in poverty?

It seems to me that Russians encountered poverty before they ever managed to fear it. People's understanding of things works at a slower pace than the speed of events themselves. Take the example of the man whose daughter went to school with a plastic bag instead of a backpack, because it turned out he couldn't afford a backpack. When this happened, the man first understood that he didn't have enough money for the backpack, and later he realized that he had become poor.

I assure you that Russians see the current crisis as something similar to what they endured in the 1990s. They think the country's troubles are just temporary, that they just need to wait it out. ”So they're withholding wages—it's only for a month or two. We'll keep working, we'll be patient, and things will pan out.”

In any illness, the first stage is always denial.

You mean we somehow lost our memory and don’t remember anything about what happened to us in the 1990s or 2008?

It was different then. First there was a sharp decline—a catastrophic one—but things got better within a few months, if you survived the initial collapse. Even now, we're being told to hang in there, that it's only temporary. And we want to believe this. Afterall, there was a recovery and some improvement, after each of the past 2-3 recessions. But this time it's different; this is an entirely different kind of crisis.

And gradually, as the year goes on, people will begin to understand that we're on the brink of an irrevocable collapse. The authorities have nothing to offer us, and there will be no recovery! The Kremlin had a single trump card: Crimea. But now even the Crimeans are asking questions, and that's it. Now there are no more cards up the Kremlin's sleeve.

Do you believe that Russians could have affected the course of history, if the protesters who demonstrated in 2011 and 2012 had been more determined? You were one of these people. Did you really believe that you were capable of changing anything?

Not really. It was clear to me even then that it wasn't going to change anything. (That Putin wasn't going to step down.) I'm told that the authorities were entirely unprepared for the events of December 2011 and that many of them nearly had their planes ready to flee the country, but we didn't take things all the way. To be honest, I don’t really believe these stories.

I think they panicked for a minute, but even more determined actions by tens of thousands of protesters wouldn't have changed anything, it seems to me. The nation was still pretty well off, generally speaking, and there was no overwhelming need to change anything. This also applies to May 2012 (when a demonstration became violent). The people who attended then were kind, decent, and educated. There were even young ladies in high heels and pretty dresses, many of whom brought their children (it being a lovely day in May).

Incidentally, it's impossible to imagine a similar rally taking place today. They'd lock up everyone in jail.

But that’s not even the point. Both in December and May, people who came to the square were progressive and intelligent. They wanted modernization, reforms, and a way forward. There are always relatively few such people. They're the owners of small- and medium-sized businesses. They're the journalists, the writers, and the publishers. These are the people who managed to crawl out from under that sense of helplessness and depression ingrained in Soviet life.

But their great burst forward was a kind of false start. They ran ahead of their time and their country, going offsides. Sometimes you look back and you realize that you're all alone—that nobody's coming with you. Most of the people guilty of going this “offsides” distance have since suffered the consequences. Some ended up in prison, some emigrated, and others have tried to keep a lower profile.

And what about you?

Right from the start, I never felt it could change anything. It was very amusing to hear demonstrators chant “We have the power here!’ because, of course, they didn't have any power at all. But I thought it was my duty to be there, just because there were people who were at least doing something, who took a stance. And it was even more disgusting and terrible how cruelly and harshly they were treated. I don’t think I’ve been so up and close to people being beaten since 1989. But there was no brutality there. In May 2012, the men beating people at Bolotnaya were professional berserkers. It was clear that they are ready for anything, that they can do anything.

What role does the state media play in society's failure to grasp that it's been trapped (in a political sense back then, and in an economic sense today)?

What role does an AK-47 play in a murder? It’s a weapon. The state media has been used as a weapon for achieving several goals, and it's effectively served as a weapon, proving itself to be quite efficient.

With things now in something of a stalemate, could we put the mass media to some other use?

Sure, we can stop using the mass media as an AK-47 and make it again a means of communication. But to do so, there have to be people on that side who talk to the people on this side—people for whom the audience is not a herd of cattle, but somebody worth talking to. I don't think there's anybody like that left over there. So there's one answer to your question.

On the other hand, there's something about this that's misguided. We're waiting around for the media's repentance and sense of humanity to kick in, but the media has time and again demonstrated how cynically it regards its audience. Or we can wait for the government to change suddenly, for it to beg forgiveness and become nice and fluffy. But this is unproductive.

I think our goal is to break the parent-child relationship with the government. We aren't the children of the tsar, and the tsar isn't God's chosen ambassador. Everyone is on their own. Only when the state stops being a father can it turn into what it should be in the modern world: a hired employee.

If we're looking for the silver lining in Russia's crisis today, it's that tomorrow offers us the chance to make some changes, so the state is no longer a personality, but a subject, an instrument, and an institution. And that's how we get a new beginning.

Katerina Gordeeva

St. Petersburg