Illusions in the Motherland

While advertisements on behalf of British Columbia attempt to remind television viewers of the Vancouver Olympics, public attention has moved on. Though this may come at the disappointment of hockey-crazed Canadians, the faded spotlight could not come more quickly for Russia. But as the host of the 2014 Winter Olympics, Russia will find it difficult to close the door on the glimpse Vancouver has provided of a fake superpower with an ego problem.

You can read about Russia’s resurgence each time Vladimir Putin makes a headline or a Russian billionaire purchases a sports team in the West. In the past year, I have debated the point with anyone who unwittingly mentions the apparent trend in my presence—from basketball fans to Harvard professors. I was most shaken by a discussion with the British journalist Alex Dryden a few months ago while interning for New York City’s National Public Radio station. While Dryden’s pseudo-fictional insights in "Red to Black" merit their own reading (know, at least, that Dryden uses a pseudonym to avoid prosecution by the Russian government), Dryden is just one of the more eloquent voices arguing that Russian authoritarianism never left the Kremlin.

The fall of the Soviet Union will remain a seminal moment in the lives of anyone alive in 1991, regardless of what happened afterward. Yet, 10 years removed from the hope of the 1990s, when Americans could still claim victory in the Cold War and point to a democratic Russia, such optimism provokes derision. Professors point to Gorbachev’s reforms and conclude that current violence against the press oppresses at levels unseen in the 80’s. In business circles, mention “Hermitage Capital Management” and “Russian capitalism” in the same sentence and see what happens. If anyone’s employer has a Moscow office, you will likely be rewarded with a tirade about financial bullying and fraud at the hands of the Russian government. Russian capitalism? The term was actually invented for a new reality television show about oligarchs who gossip with Putin and then buy English soccer teams.

Reality check time—the 2010 Winter Olympics. Vancouver might not have meant much to Americans in the scheme of things: Wall Street had a fling with curling; NBC bled money on Olympics coverage bought before the financial crisis. In Russia, however, the Olympics had a much more dramatic impact. Russia’s headlines cried foul as their country’s dominance of the games ended suddenly and in pathetic fashion.

The collapse of their Olympic juggernaut surprised and troubled many Russians. The aftermath, however, has revealed several gaping holes in the façade of a new era of Russian strength. President Dmitri Medvedev demonstrated petulance unbecoming of such a supposed giant. A Soviet-era leader, faced with such embarrassment, would have summarily sacked those involved—if not found them a new job opportunity in a small Siberian town. President Dmitri Medvedev’s public reaction, however, seems more like Hollywood parody of a Soviet response: Canceling his scheduled appearance at the closing ceremony, Medvedev announced, “[Those responsible] must have the courage to submit their resignation. And if they do not have this resolve, we will help them.” The president of the Olympic Committee and the deputy sports minister have both since resigned. Yet if Medvedev meant to show his control of the situation to his concerned citizens, why not simply fire the officials outright?

Instead, Medvedev seems to have consciously invoked the spirit of the Soviet autocrat and come up short. After Russia’s once invincible hockey team failed to earn a medal, the team’s coach, Vyacheslav Bykov, provided a bitter and ironic response to Medvedev’s posturing: “Let’s put up a bunch of guillotines and gallows. We have 35 people on the hockey team. Let’s go to Red Square and dispatch with them all.”

Bykov’s frustration, however, points to the real weakness Vancouver revealed—the collapse of Soviet-era infrastructure in modern Russia. The Soviet Union prioritized Olympic victories as public relations efforts. Substantial investments in coaching staff, training facilities, and athlete development from a young age would pay off in public relations success and the boost to the people’s morale as medals poured in. Since 1991, however, the new Russia has not sustained these programs. New facilities around Moscow have not functioned properly, and many farther from the capital have been abandoned.

The Vancouver games occurred 20 years after Soviet collapse, and athletes trained by the Soviet infrastructure are now too old to compete. One cannot argue that the new Russia simply doesn’t care—the government invested substantial sums in Vancouver, and failure there induced public dismay. Instead, failure has demonstrated that there can be no quick fix to the collapse of Soviet system infrastructure.

Russia vows to restore its Olympic image at the next Winter Olympics it will host in Sochi. Yet Sochi itself is an aging communist-era resort, and construction there has been condemned for its environmental damage. Do not expect a stunning reversal of fortunes on the podiums and in Russia’s image at Sochi. Instead, heed the warning of Vancouver—Russia’s crisis of identity and a collapsed infrastructure most likely transcend issues far more pressing than Olympic gold.

Alexander R. Konrad ’11, a former Crimson associate editorial editor, is a history concentrator in Quincy House. His column appears on alternate Mondays.