The prime minister promptly flew off to Sochi, on the Black Sea, for a sudden vacation. That prompted more gossip; Sochi in August is routine for Russian leaders. But late February? Next, Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Yakushkin said Yeltsin had “firmly persuaded” Primakov to take a break. A day later, Kremlin chief of staff Nikolai Bordyuzha said there would be an investigation into alleged “corruption” among Primakov’s ministers.
By now, the press was full of speculation that Primakov was about to be sacked. Then reality set in: two days after he met with the president–and indeed had what one NEWSWEEK source says was a “tough” session–Yeltsin was whisked back into the hospital, his bleeding ulcer again requiring urgent treatment. Could Yeltsin, whose health since his re-election in the summer of 1996 has not allowed him to work for more than a few weeks at a time, be so irrational as to fire Primakov from his hospital bed? In the midst of Russia’s still deepening economic crisis? Without an obvious, politically acceptable successor at hand?
Probably not; but it’s not out of the question. Yeltsin, even in his failing, final years, still loves wrong-footing the received political wisdom in Moscow. The Kremlin’s stated intention to investigate alleged corruption in Primakov’s government–widely believed to focus on Deputy Prime Ministers Yuri Maslyukov and Gennady Kulik–came after Primakov’s team had moved against businesses linked to Boris Berezovsky, the infamous oligarch with tight connections to Yeltsin’s family. Primakov is reliably reported to loathe Berezovsky, and a move to link him with corruption was politically popular.
Then came Bordyuzha’s announcement that the Security Council he heads would start an investigation into Primakov’s team. This was widely seen as Berezovsky’s inevitable counterattack. That Primakov might be in trouble suddenly seemed credible; his meeting with Yeltsin on Feb. 25 had been contentious. And at least part of the conflict between the prime minister and the president, NEWSWEEK has learned, focused precisely on the political futures of Maslyukov–a communist who leads Russia’s critical and floundering negotiations with the International Monetary Fund–and Kulik, who presides over agricultural policy.
Yeltsin had been troubled by the fact that the IMF has repeatedly and publicly expressed its dissatisfaction with Russia’s 1999 budget, only to have Maslyukov insist that the fund’s “pressure” was “indecent.” A cool, smart head in Yeltsin’s circle–most likely Oleg Sysuyev, an aide widely respected by the IMF–had evidently told the president that a deal with the IMF was desperately needed. Yeltsin, one informed source says, told Primakov to get rid of Maslyukov. Primakov resisted, saying that the fragile peace he maintains with the communist-dominated legislature would be destroyed if he did. Primakov apparently offered up Kulik instead, but Yeltsin still wasn’t satisfied. In the days since, Kremlin aides have let it be known that they don’t view Primakov as indispensable, and have floated the name of communist Duma speaker Gennady Seleznyovas a possible successor.
Indeed, just as the Russian papers were preparing Primakov’s obituary, Yeltsin did indeed fire somebody. Only it wasn’t Primakov. It was Berezovsky, who for the past year has served as executive secretary for the Commonwealth of Independent States. That’s a nonjob in an organization with no clout–and formally, it isn’t even in Yeltsin’s purview. No matter. In the present, fevered political atmosphere in Moscow, Yeltsin had wrong-footed everyone again. Were there more dismissals to come? Would Primakov return to Moscow secure in his job? Only the bedridden, 68-year-old president with the bleeding ulcer knew. But this long-running farce is the last thing a poor, floundering, deeply troubled nation needs.
