Foreign Policy

Boris Yeltsin: From Dawn to Sunset

by Alexander Korzhakov

Reviewed by Lilia Shevtsova

No man is a hero to his valet" is an old adage that President Boris Yeltsin should have taken to heart--especially given his choice of Alexander Korzhakov as his chief bodyguard and confidante. One year after his fall from grace at the Kremlin, Korzhakov has published a tell-all memoir that has captivated readers with its intimate portrait of the man who holds Russia's highest political office. Reading Korzhakov's book is like peeping through a keyhole--it is detestable, but one cannot help but find it compelling.

This is a story of betrayal and attempted revenge. Yeltsin and his bodyguard once cut their hands and mixed their blood, vowing to be friends "until death." Now Korzhakov lays before us damaging details about Yeltsin and his family, such as how Yeltsin's daughter Tatyana, responsible for drafting the president's schedule, lobbied on behalf of shady businessmen. Taking readers behind the scenes, Korzhakov also offers new interpretations of controversial events: for example, how Yeltsin cut short his visit to Beijing in 1992 not because of political intrigue back in Moscow--as was widely reported--but because he fell terribly ill and became partially paralyzed. Yeltsin was so frightened that, according to Korzhakov, he began weeping. Trying to console him, Korzhakov said, "Remember Roosevelt? He was in a wheelchair but ruled the country."

As an epigraph to his book, Korzhakov chose the maxim of the nineteenth-century French diplomat Charles Maurice de Talleyrand: "Nations would have been horrified if they knew what petty people rule them." What is really interesting about the former bodyguard's memoir, however, is not what it tells us about Yeltsin's weaknesses or numerous under-the-table sweetheart deals--we can guess about many of them. Rather, Korzhakov provides a window onto Russian politics, revealing the style of governance and morality that prevails in the highest echelons of Russian power. He demonstrates that the main flaw of Russian politics is not its weak leaders but its lack of strong institutions and stable rules. That flaw underlies the whole drama of Yeltsin himself who, once the strongest political actor on the Russian scene, now finds himself hostage to an élite entourage that could turn on him at any moment.

Yeltsin managed to undergo an incredible number of transformations, from a communist to a populist, then a liberal, a democrat, and a statist. Over and over this man has risen from the grave at the very moment that observers were composing his political obituary and even his own supporters had virtually written him off. As Korzhakov shows, the president suffers from endless bouts of depression from which he struggles painfully to extricate himself. He is a man who must sense the approaching crash before he can scale the heights, who can turn failure into a vehicle for personal triumph. Yeltsin constantly takes risks; he needs to live on the psychological edge, to sense the threats and dangers, in order to be fit.

In short, Yeltsin is not to be faulted for a lack of political intuition, a failure to understand human nature, or a weak grasp of the mechanics of power. Even more important, he has struck some invisible chord in Russian society. As president, Yeltsin has become the embodiment of what ordinary Russians seek in their leader--a simple, solid, even somewhat crude, pragmatic man with a lot of down-to-earth common sense and a disdain for long deliberations and abstract thinking.

Yeltsin is inclined by nature toward populist authoritarianism ("Someone in this country should be the chief" is his credo), but he lacks the mass support and levers of power needed to implement his policies. Neglecting official institutions, he continues to rely on close advisers like Korzhakov who may suddenly betray him. Now circumstances have presented Yeltsin with a difficult choice. The regime that he has created has demonstrated a fantastic ability to adapt and survive. The Russian system of power no longer needs a warrior or an overconfident personality. Today it requires little more than a symbolic figurehead, someone to enter the scene in case of an emergency. Thus, the president must decide whether to accept a humiliating decorative role or--as he seems to be trying to do--to reinvent himself once again as a reformer.

Everybody in Russia is now busy discussing his imminent departure and possible heirs. Meanwhile, Yeltsin, who recently vowed that he would not run for a third term, can easily choose to forget this promise (as he has done so many times before) and again--his physical state permitting--enter the race and win. . . being the lesser of all evils in the eyes of the Russian people.

Lilia Shevtsova is a senior associate at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace.