n Christopher Nolan’s “The Dark Knight” the Joker, masterfully played by the late Heath Ledger, opines that “This town [Gotham] deserves a better class of criminal. And I'm gonna give it to them.” The line, one among many exceptional ones throughout the film, raises the question: Can you judge a society and its progress by the quality or experiences of its criminals? Federico Varese, a Professor of Sociology at Sciences Po and researcher at the Centre for European Studies and Comparative Politics (CEE), believes that you can, and explores Russia’s post–Soviet history in “Russia in Four Criminals.”
It is a comparably slim volume that explores the lives of four Russian criminals to discern how Russian society has evolved since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Varese uses the lives of these four individuals to tell the story of Russia’s incomplete and failed liberalization. It is an interesting lens through which to view the country’s evolution. Rather than focus on the great and grand, he focuses on the dark underbelly of Russian society.
Varese writes with a certain panache. He brings the stories of the four titular criminals to life, writing them as an elevated form of the pulp thriller interspersed with his own encounters with some of the subjects and his own time in Russia. The brevity of these biographies makes for a swift read, but nearly every page leaves the reader wanting to know more and asking additional questions. Varese’s drive to answer his own queries leaves much unanswered.
Vyacheslav Ivan’kov was a prominent organized crime leader in the Soviet Union, who first came to prominence during the Khrushchev thaw, but thrived in the post–collapse era, seeing the Vory (вор в зако́не, vor v zakone or “thieves in law”) to arguably the apex of its power before a comparable decline and his eventual murder. (Mark Galeotti’s book, “The Vory” is likely the best account on the rise and fall of Russian organized crime). Ivan’kov, like many organized criminals, took advantage of the absence of the rule of law by serving as a fixer or problem solver for businesses and individuals, while taking a cut, of course. The state was weak and untrustworthy, and into this vacuum stepped the comparably more reliable organized criminals. He and the Vory thrived in the parallel, informal economy that developed in the liberalizing, democratizing Russia.
Boris Berezovsky, the mathematician turned oligarch, took advantage of the rapacious and violent economic privatization of Russia, turning financial wealth into political power. His success was enabled by the same weaknesses in the rule of law and institutions that saw people and businesses turn to Ivan’kov. Yet rather than pursue or punish Berezovsky, he was co–opted into the political system. The rule by law, or the capricious abuse of law by those in power, replaced the non–existent rule of law as the West understands it—predictability, equity, and impartiality. His largesse helped maintain the presidency of Boris Yeltsin, kept Yeltsin’s family wealthy, and paved the path for the rise of President Vladimir Putin. Berezovsky later ran afoul of the very ‘power verticals’ he enabled, fleeing to the United Kingdom before allegedly taking his own life.
Arrested for alleged narcotics trafficking, Sergei Savel’ev worked for the state in prison whilea convict. There he witnessed the notorious brutality of the penal system, including systematic rape and torture. Savel’ev used his IT position to download terabytes worth of footage, exposing it to the world with the help of a Franco–Russian non–governmental organization. For Varese the prison system’s brutality is not an aberration, but a feature of Russia’s political evolution as the state, under President Putin, sought to establish primacy over organized crime.
Nikita Kuzmin is a pioneer of sorts. Having developed Gozi, one of the most powerful computer viruses, he created the foundations for cybercrime system–as–a–service, offering up bespoke hacking tools accompanied by a management infrastructure to clients around the world. Kuzmin, like other Russian hackers, enjoyed a complex and volatile relationship with the Russian state. They could not attack targets within Russia and, when asked (told, really) to help the Kremlin, they were obligated to do so. Kuzmin was outgrown by the business he created, with similar enterprises emerging around the world.
Varese’s approach is certainly novel. By looking at the lives of the four titular criminals he aims to answer his central query as to whether Russia ever emerged from the chaos of the post–Soviet economic and political liberalization with the rule of law in place or intact. Each profile, in their own way, demonstrates that the answer is clearly no. The rule of law relies on predictability, constancy, and equality. Every citizen is equal before the law and is guaranteed due process—a process that is transparent.
The Vory’s parallel system of justice provided greater certainty and redress than the official state system—a consistent driver of organized crime across place and time. The oligarchs, like Berezovsky, took advantage of the weakness of the state and legal structures to amass unimaginable wealth at the expense of the public, and translated that wealth to personal and political power. Savel’ev’s experiences in the Russian prison system demonstrated the state’s capriciousness and brutality, and ability to twist the legal system toward its ends. The awkward co–existence of Russian cyber criminals and the state further illustrates the inequality of the judicial system—so long as the criminals were of use, their illicit behavior was tolerated. More significantly, that very tolerance highlighted the fact that the state and its interests mattered more than anything else.
The thesis at the heart of “Russia in Four Criminals” is relatively self–evident from the turning of the first page. Russia does not have a rule of law that the United States or European states would understand. For Russia, the law is in aggregate, not predicable, constant, or transparent. There are parallel systems of justice and inconsistency therein, especially for those at the apex of political and economic power. Especially in Putin’s Russia, the determining factor is not an independent, abstract rule of law, but what benefits the state and benefits Putin.
The stories Varese explores end before the illegal annexation of Crimea and opening of hostilities in eastern Ukraine, and well before February 2022. It is a snapshot in time and interesting in its own right but begs for a follow–on. How have the Vory adapted to the war in Ukraine? Mark Galeotti’s report, “Gangsters at War,” offers a fascinating look at how the state has used organized crime since 2012, answering some of these questions.
How have Russia’s oligarchs adapted to the aggressive sanctions regime? Has a new class of criminal emerged in the sanctions evasion regime? Does the state have as much control as many assume?
There is also a risk in assuming that these four individuals and their unique experiences are indicative of Russian society as a whole. The rule of law does exist on some levels. There is a criminal code. There are police forces. There is a court system. The people can find redress in both civil and criminal proceedings. There is a robust, albeit aggressively repressed, civil society that advocates for reform and justice. It is of course neither a Rawlsian ideal society, but nor is it a free–for–all. This is the central challenge of Varese’s book. Clearly Russia has not fully liberalized economically or politically, and injustice remains.
On its present course it appears that Russia will not achieve a Western standard of either in any realistic time frame, if ever. This matters, arguably, less than the West’s understanding of how the rule of law works within Russia. Changing the country from without is not viable and change from within is strangled for the time being. Washington and other capitals would do well to recognize this truth, illustrated by Varese’s book.
a global affairs media network
Crime, punishment, and Russia’s failed liberalization
Photo by Maxim Titov via Pexels.
November 23, 2024
Federico Varese’s latest book explores Russia’s political and social evolution since the Soviet Union’s collapse through the lives and deaths of four criminals, writes Joshua Huminski.
I
n Christopher Nolan’s “The Dark Knight” the Joker, masterfully played by the late Heath Ledger, opines that “This town [Gotham] deserves a better class of criminal. And I'm gonna give it to them.” The line, one among many exceptional ones throughout the film, raises the question: Can you judge a society and its progress by the quality or experiences of its criminals? Federico Varese, a Professor of Sociology at Sciences Po and researcher at the Centre for European Studies and Comparative Politics (CEE), believes that you can, and explores Russia’s post–Soviet history in “Russia in Four Criminals.”
It is a comparably slim volume that explores the lives of four Russian criminals to discern how Russian society has evolved since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Varese uses the lives of these four individuals to tell the story of Russia’s incomplete and failed liberalization. It is an interesting lens through which to view the country’s evolution. Rather than focus on the great and grand, he focuses on the dark underbelly of Russian society.
Varese writes with a certain panache. He brings the stories of the four titular criminals to life, writing them as an elevated form of the pulp thriller interspersed with his own encounters with some of the subjects and his own time in Russia. The brevity of these biographies makes for a swift read, but nearly every page leaves the reader wanting to know more and asking additional questions. Varese’s drive to answer his own queries leaves much unanswered.
Vyacheslav Ivan’kov was a prominent organized crime leader in the Soviet Union, who first came to prominence during the Khrushchev thaw, but thrived in the post–collapse era, seeing the Vory (вор в зако́не, vor v zakone or “thieves in law”) to arguably the apex of its power before a comparable decline and his eventual murder. (Mark Galeotti’s book, “The Vory” is likely the best account on the rise and fall of Russian organized crime). Ivan’kov, like many organized criminals, took advantage of the absence of the rule of law by serving as a fixer or problem solver for businesses and individuals, while taking a cut, of course. The state was weak and untrustworthy, and into this vacuum stepped the comparably more reliable organized criminals. He and the Vory thrived in the parallel, informal economy that developed in the liberalizing, democratizing Russia.
Boris Berezovsky, the mathematician turned oligarch, took advantage of the rapacious and violent economic privatization of Russia, turning financial wealth into political power. His success was enabled by the same weaknesses in the rule of law and institutions that saw people and businesses turn to Ivan’kov. Yet rather than pursue or punish Berezovsky, he was co–opted into the political system. The rule by law, or the capricious abuse of law by those in power, replaced the non–existent rule of law as the West understands it—predictability, equity, and impartiality. His largesse helped maintain the presidency of Boris Yeltsin, kept Yeltsin’s family wealthy, and paved the path for the rise of President Vladimir Putin. Berezovsky later ran afoul of the very ‘power verticals’ he enabled, fleeing to the United Kingdom before allegedly taking his own life.
Arrested for alleged narcotics trafficking, Sergei Savel’ev worked for the state in prison whilea convict. There he witnessed the notorious brutality of the penal system, including systematic rape and torture. Savel’ev used his IT position to download terabytes worth of footage, exposing it to the world with the help of a Franco–Russian non–governmental organization. For Varese the prison system’s brutality is not an aberration, but a feature of Russia’s political evolution as the state, under President Putin, sought to establish primacy over organized crime.
Nikita Kuzmin is a pioneer of sorts. Having developed Gozi, one of the most powerful computer viruses, he created the foundations for cybercrime system–as–a–service, offering up bespoke hacking tools accompanied by a management infrastructure to clients around the world. Kuzmin, like other Russian hackers, enjoyed a complex and volatile relationship with the Russian state. They could not attack targets within Russia and, when asked (told, really) to help the Kremlin, they were obligated to do so. Kuzmin was outgrown by the business he created, with similar enterprises emerging around the world.
Varese’s approach is certainly novel. By looking at the lives of the four titular criminals he aims to answer his central query as to whether Russia ever emerged from the chaos of the post–Soviet economic and political liberalization with the rule of law in place or intact. Each profile, in their own way, demonstrates that the answer is clearly no. The rule of law relies on predictability, constancy, and equality. Every citizen is equal before the law and is guaranteed due process—a process that is transparent.
The Vory’s parallel system of justice provided greater certainty and redress than the official state system—a consistent driver of organized crime across place and time. The oligarchs, like Berezovsky, took advantage of the weakness of the state and legal structures to amass unimaginable wealth at the expense of the public, and translated that wealth to personal and political power. Savel’ev’s experiences in the Russian prison system demonstrated the state’s capriciousness and brutality, and ability to twist the legal system toward its ends. The awkward co–existence of Russian cyber criminals and the state further illustrates the inequality of the judicial system—so long as the criminals were of use, their illicit behavior was tolerated. More significantly, that very tolerance highlighted the fact that the state and its interests mattered more than anything else.
The thesis at the heart of “Russia in Four Criminals” is relatively self–evident from the turning of the first page. Russia does not have a rule of law that the United States or European states would understand. For Russia, the law is in aggregate, not predicable, constant, or transparent. There are parallel systems of justice and inconsistency therein, especially for those at the apex of political and economic power. Especially in Putin’s Russia, the determining factor is not an independent, abstract rule of law, but what benefits the state and benefits Putin.
The stories Varese explores end before the illegal annexation of Crimea and opening of hostilities in eastern Ukraine, and well before February 2022. It is a snapshot in time and interesting in its own right but begs for a follow–on. How have the Vory adapted to the war in Ukraine? Mark Galeotti’s report, “Gangsters at War,” offers a fascinating look at how the state has used organized crime since 2012, answering some of these questions.
How have Russia’s oligarchs adapted to the aggressive sanctions regime? Has a new class of criminal emerged in the sanctions evasion regime? Does the state have as much control as many assume?
There is also a risk in assuming that these four individuals and their unique experiences are indicative of Russian society as a whole. The rule of law does exist on some levels. There is a criminal code. There are police forces. There is a court system. The people can find redress in both civil and criminal proceedings. There is a robust, albeit aggressively repressed, civil society that advocates for reform and justice. It is of course neither a Rawlsian ideal society, but nor is it a free–for–all. This is the central challenge of Varese’s book. Clearly Russia has not fully liberalized economically or politically, and injustice remains.
On its present course it appears that Russia will not achieve a Western standard of either in any realistic time frame, if ever. This matters, arguably, less than the West’s understanding of how the rule of law works within Russia. Changing the country from without is not viable and change from within is strangled for the time being. Washington and other capitals would do well to recognize this truth, illustrated by Varese’s book.
