When the passions aroused by Vladimir Zhirinovsky and the threat of fascism in Russia began to wane this spring, Mikhail Gorbachev's former press secretary Andrei Grachyov declared that the real danger in Russia was not mythical "totalitarians," but the very real, concrete bureaucratic structures of the present government. This is the real threat to all -- a threat that was so hard won during the early years of perestroika.


Russia has long been used to the word "bureaucracy." We are accustomed to the image of the evil bureaucrat shuffling papers from one desk to another. However, under the current conditions of the complete redistribution of property and general disarray, the bureaucrat may turn out to be a key figure precisely because of his lack of principles or ideology.


A lack of ideology and an attraction to concrete matters are things in which Mayor Yury Luzhkov and Moscow's ruling elite take pride. While, in the Kremlin and the White House, an ideological struggle was going on -- one which escalated to the level of bullets and tanks -- Luzhkov and his administration were passionately dealing in real estate, waving aside impudent journalists who accused him of protectionism. Today, a number of firms that established themselves at that time are creating their own media outlets. These newspapers and television stations are unlikely to be seriously critical of the mayor, making it unnecessary to frighten them with threats of lawsuits or evictions as was Luzhkov's practice previously.


Luzhkov has also taken a considerable interest in Moscow's system of propiski, or residency permits. It should be recalled that, during the heat of perestroika, in one of its first decisions the Constitutional Court declared the Moscow registration system illegal and a violation of human rights. In what other capital of the world do police wearing bullet-proof vests and armed with machine guns stroll the streets, determining on the basis of skin color whose papers should be checked?


In the light of this it is interesting to consider a recent article in Moskovskiye Novosti that reported that the downtown area is being rebuilt by foreign workers. The article was not talking about the Turks and other nationals of the "far abroad" who are building our expensive and prestigious hotels and restaurants. It was about the more "convenient" nationals of the "near abroad": Ukrainians, Belarussians and refugees from the troubled regions near the Black Sea. These workers get about $200 for 22 working days -- working from 7 A.M. to 9 P.M. They do not have propiski, so they have no right to the city clinics or other social services of which the Moscow government is so demonstratively proud.


On the other hand, the city actively chases down those foreigners who cannot be exploited, and in this regard President Boris Yeltsin's recent decree on crime has come in quite handy. This decree gives unprecedented powers to law-enforcement agencies and was met with enthusiasm by the Moscow city government. Now, suspects can be held for 30 days without trial, and the right of the authorities to eavesdrop on telephone conversations is limited only by the expense of setting up wiretaps.


The city government has also taken an active interest in the cable-television industry. Formerly this industry was completely independent and, in the course of future elections, might have presented alternative viewpoints to the electorate.


Despite rampant inflation and the pressure of racketeers, the cable industry has maintained its administrative independence. It has created its own programming and its own commercial and creative policies, taking the risk of failure upon itself. Recently, however, the city government passed a resolution giving the government control over the programming, budgets and even the studios used by the cable industry.


Scholastic debates have been left to the "social democrats," the "liberal democrats," "patriots," and so on. In the meantime, on the level of real power, a more familiar, real and sinister social organism is forming. Although this structure remains for the time being hollow and without an ideology, its features are easily recognizable.


The federal government is now tentatively raising the issue of putting off the elections, yet Moscow has long had a mayor who came to power in a way that is unclear even to political analysts. Why is it that this former vegetable magnate is now ruling the city?


At one time the city executive was checked by the Mossoviet, which loudly protested against many operations undertaken by the city government with regard to real estate and land. That Mossoviet was unceremoniously dumped amid slogans declaring that we must liberate ourselves from vestiges of our totalitarian past. Now Moscow has a City Duma, but we hear precious little about its work.


Many political analysts describe Russia's current political structure as an oligarchy: A strong presidential team with weak institutional links is governing an amorphous and demoralized populace. Valery Abramkin, a well-known human rights advocate, has spent many years studying our police, courts and prisons. He recently wrote:


"A highly centralized mechanism of repressive organs that is under no one's control is constantly growing stronger. This is a ready-made mechanism for a new dictator. The mechanism of suppression and fear already exists and it is ready to begin its work tomorrow. And that work will be considerably more effective and more technologically advanced than Stalin's. If the fascists come to power, it will not be difficult for the punitive organs to immediately remove 1 or 2 million opponents from Moscow in the space of one week. The mechanism already exists and it is ready."


I don't think there is anything else to say.





Oleg Pshenichny is a freelance journalist. He contributed this comment to The Moscow Times.