Paul Goble
Staunton,
September 2 -- It was often said at the end of Soviet times that the most
dangerous time for a sick society is when it tries to begin to reform itself
because any efforts at reform inevitably provoke opposition and are exploited
by the reformers not for the benefit of that which is to be reformed but for
themselves.
Tragically, a similar observation can be
made with equal force about what is going on with regard to the Russian
government’s effort to “reform” the Academy of Sciences, a process that has
generated near unanimous opposition in the Academy itself and is being
exploited by some in the Russian government for their own political ends and
personal enrichment.
Consequently, while few doubt that the
Academy itself needs to change given the transformation of the world about it
and its loss of many of the most talented Russians to other employers at home
and abroad if Russian scholarship is to recover, one can only share the fears
of Russian academicians that the government’s proposed cure is much worse than
the disease.
In some respects, the Academy by
resisting change so successfully over the last two decades has made itself into
a tempting target for change from the outside, but the sweeping nature of the
changes the government has proposed represent real threats to academic freedom,
perhaps no surprise in what is an increasingly unfree Russia.
The stakes are high – as Natalya
Solzhenitsyna said, “the destruction of science is state suicide” (za-nauku.ru//index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=7497&Itemid=29),
the outcome is far from certain, but, perhaps most immediately, this case
provides a metonym for the problems of reform as such.
That is precisely the argument
Moscow commentator Aleksey Makarkin,
first vice president of the Center for Political Technologies, made last week
in “Vedomosti” in an article entitled “The Science of Reforming” (vedomosti.ru/opinion/news/15718971/nauka-reformirovaniya).
How to carry out reforms, Makarkin
says, is a key issue for state policy. “When initiating changes, the authorities
clash with the inertia of public opinion, the intensification of political
struggle and the resistance of interest groups, including those with large
amounts of resources at their disposal.”
Failure to recognize this reality
and badly timing the introduction of reforms often has the effect of “closing ‘the
window of opportunities’” for any real progress. That is what happened at the level of the
country as a whole in the closing years of the Soviet Union, Makarkin says; it
is what appears to be happening now in the case of the Academy of Sciences.
And now as then, “reformations
undertaken under conditions of a systemic political-economic crisis cannot
prevent and in some cases will accelerate a collapse.”
The promotion of reforms, Makarkin
writes, inevitably create “anti-reform coalitions, which not uncommonly bear an
externally contradictory character. The lefts unite with the rights, the
ideological opponents of a given reform with opposition figures who in
principle are not against it but consider unpopular measures as the latest
argument against the authorities.”
The government’s proposed “reform”
of the Academy of Sciences, which would reduce its status to a branch office of
the government and unite it with the other academies – has led to “the
formation of a broad front of opponents, ranging from those who are nostalgic
about the Soviet system to supporters of present-day political democracy, for whom
the Russian Academy of Sciences has suddenly been transformed from an archaic
institute into a bastion of academic freedom.”
That is “not surprising,” Makarkin
says, given that the government when it seeks to impose its will is “a priori
conceived by society with suspicion regardless of whether it is promoting
reactionary measures or reforms.”
In the case of the Academy of
Sciences, the situation is complicated by the fact that it involves some 45,000
highly educated scholars as well as 50,000 support personnel and by the reality
that “the corporate interests of its leadership do not always correspond with the
priorities of the development of contemporary scholarship.”
That
hierarchy has resisted reforms in recent years, and this very resistance made
it inevitable that when reforms came they would be from the outside and far
harsher than would otherwise be the case, reforms that may in fact destroy much
of the very values they claim to represent.
That
makes the way in which the government should try to promote any reform
critical, Makarkin says. First of all,
the authorities must present a clear explanation of what it is doing and why
and be prepared for “a serious conversation” about it rather than issue a
diktat and expect everyone to go along.
Second,
these same authorities must view the views of those who oppose them as completely
legitimate and worthy of discussion rather than occasion for scorn or
attack. Third, the government needs to
carefully assemble a reform coalition consisting of those who will benefit from
reform rather than assume that because it can impose its will, support will
follow.
And
fourth, Makarkin concludes, the reform policy of the government must be
consistent rather than tacking now in one direction and now in another,
something that is only a simulacrum of dialogue and not the real thing and that
has the effect of increasing resistance rather than overcoming it.
In
recent months, the Russian government has violated all those principles in
dealing with the Russian Academy of Sciences, and consequently, it is no
surprise that at an extraordinary meeting of the Academy at the end of last
week, the opponents of reform won the day, dug in, and called for the
resignation of key ministers.
That
is not the end of this story by any means, but if the Putin regime keeps up its
attempts to “reform” Russian science in the ways that it is trying to do at present,
Moscow will destroy not only the possibility of reform but also one of the most
important sources for the intellectual and hence political development of the
country in the future.
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