Now Who Rules Russia?

By John Kohan/Moscow

The timing was a surprise, but not the act. For months Moscow had wondered when Boris Yeltsin would do it: take sole charge of Russia. Last week he did, dissolving the rebellious parliament, but his hard-line rivals did not slink off into the night. Now there are two Presidents, two Ministers of Defense, two Ministers of Security and two Ministers of the Interior. Two centers of government contend for power, one in the Kremlin and a second in Russia's White House, the seat of parliament. Both issued a flurry of orders and made separate appeals to Russia's 150 million people to rally in support of two competing visions of the future of the nation.

The political stalemate that had brought Russians much of the pain of reform without many of the benefits had finally gone on too long for Yeltsin. He had tried during the past 18 months of struggle with conservative lawmakers to abide by Russia's Soviet-era constitution while he pushed the go-slow parliament to adopt free-market changes. At times he came perilously close to overstepping the law. But he always beat a retreat, fearing that any challenge to the lawful order might destroy the state.

A summer of paralysis took its toll. Yeltsin's economic-reform program was stuck, his authority under constant challenge, his time consumed in inconclusive dickering with his parliamentary opponents. Fed up, Yeltsin finally laid his claim to power on the line. In a prime-time television address Tuesday evening, he announced he was disbanding the legislature, even if it meant violating the constitution, and called new parliamentary elections for December. Angry Deputies quickly denounced Yeltsin's move as a coup d'etat and set up their own government, led by Vice President Alexander Rutskoi, Yeltsin's most implacable enemy. Suddenly, the most serious political crisis since the failed attempt to re-establish communist hegemony in August 1991 had engulfed Moscow.

Yeltsin's gamble appeared to be paying off. Although citizens watched indifferently as political passions raged in and around the White House, parliament issued weapons to a motley band of supporters in the early hours of the conflict. On Thursday night eight armed men tried to break into a Moscow military facility. One policeman and an innocent bystander were killed. Yeltsin immediately ordered the Interior Ministry to confiscate weapons from the supposed defenders of the White House, and deployed hundreds of police, special forces and soldiers around the city. On Friday night columns of troops < established a protective perimeter around the White House.

Inside the building, a rump Congress of the People's Deputies began a hastily convened session by impeaching Yeltsin, but demoralized lawmakers were soon squabbling among themselves about whether to get rid of parliamentary chairman Ruslan Khasbulatov too. Yeltsin's government began to show signs of impatience with the siege, blocking access to the motor pool, keeping out fresh food supplies and, finally, turning off the electricity. As the crowds outside dwindled to several hundred diehards, groups of Deputies gathered by candlelight to plot their next move. But the standoff seemed all but over by week's end.

Escape from communism into the brave new world of democracy is proving immensely difficult for all the pieces of the old Soviet Union. Yeltsin is not the only reformer who has found it nearly impossible to carry out change without violating constitutional norms. Georgian leader Eduard Shevardnadze, who earned his democratic credentials when he resigned as Soviet Foreign Minister in December 1990 to protest "coming dictatorship," also suspended his parliament this month to gain enough power to keep his tiny Caucasian mountain republic together. The question all across the former empire is whether democratic ends can really be achieved by less-than-democratic means.

The West has shown sympathy and unanimous support for embattled reformers who have bent the rules, especially if the alternative is total chaos or a restoration of communist rule. After receiving personal assurances over the telephone from the Russian leader of his intention to hold free elections, President Clinton gave him a ringing endorsement. "I support him fully," said Clinton, adding that he was convinced Yeltsin would act in a way "that ensures peace, stability and an open political process."

Continued support for Yeltsin will depend on how wisely he uses his newly assumed authority. Said a senior U.S. official: "It is the process, not the person, that we are supporting." Yeltsin got critical backing from Defense Minister Pavel Grachev and the military top brass, as well as from the police and security forces. Leaders from Russia's 88 regions and ethnic republics, where public opinion will ultimately decide which of the rival governments prevails, were still testing the winds from Moscow, but it seemed unlikely that they would risk supporting Rutskoi with the balance so clearly tilting in Yeltsin's favor.

The morning after Yeltsin made his move, millions of ordinary Russians showed at least passive support by simply going about their business as if nothing had happened. The efforts of nationalists and neo-Bolsheviks to evoke the people power of August 1991 and stir up passions against a coup were greeted by indifferent shrugs. "Why are they doing this?" asked a Moscow mechanic driving past the makeshift barriers. "No one is going to attack them. These communists can shout themselves hoarse for all I care. Yeltsin made the right decision."

Yeltsin had been dropping broad hints in recent weeks that September would be "a month of battle." He shored up his strength in the hinterlands by inviting regional leaders to join a new consultative body called the Federation Council. Two weeks ago, he traveled to the suburban Moscow headquarters of the elite Dzerzhinsky division of Interior Ministry special forces, whose support would be vital for his plan.

Announcing his dissolution order, the President baldly accused the parliament of "trying to push Russia into the abyss," declaring that the Deputies had "lost the right to remain at the levers of state power." Then, after theatrically pausing to sip from a cup of tea, he outlined plans to hold elections in December for one chamber of a new bicameral legislature, the Federal Assembly, that "would not engage in political games." As Yeltsin explained, "These measures are needed to protect Russia and the whole world against the catastrophic collapse of the Russian state and the reign of anarchy in a country possessing nuclear weapons."

The parliament fought back at a hastily convened midnight session. Lawmakers appointed Rutskoi in Yeltsin's place under an article of the constitution that automatically strips the President of his powers if he suspends the activities of any legally elected organ of state power. Holding up a paperback edition of the much amended Russian constitution, Rutskoi, the Afghan War hero who was Yeltsin's handpicked running mate in the June 1991 elections, swore a new oath of allegiance and proclaimed his former mentor's decrees against the parliament null and void. Before the night was out, Rutskoi had named his own candidates to run the power ministries of Defense, Security and the Interior.

The anti-Yeltsin revolt ran into trouble almost as soon as it began. Officials loyal to the elected President cut off special government telephone lines to the White House, making it all but impossible for Rutskoi to establish reliable communications with supporters in the provinces. The state television network, under Yeltsin's control, refused to carry live coverage of the parliamentary session, fitting events from the White House into pro- Yeltsin broadcasts. Despite an appeal from Khasbulatov for the army and police to disobey Kremlin orders, Rutskoi's newly appointed Minister of Defense, General Vladislav Achalov, could not even gain entry to Russia's Pentagon.

Yeltsin tried to bolster his image as a winner by taking Defense Minister Grachev and Interior Minister Victor Yerin along on a brief walkabout in central Moscow. Mingling with the cheering crowds, the President explained that he was already at work setting up electoral commissions for the December vote. He laughed off any suggestion of compromise with the parliament. "It does not exist, so there is not, cannot and must not be any dialogue," he said. "I think we have had enough of parliament making fools of us." Yeltsin did not say how he planned to bring the standoff with parliament to an end, but promised that there would be "no blood."

Even if the Kremlin does succeed in dispersing the parliament, the future is far too uncertain for Yeltsin to claim victory. With the leaders of the August 1991 coup still involved in a drawn-out trial, the Kremlin will hardly want to begin another political spectacle by arresting Rutskoi, Khasbulatov and other leaders of the anti-Yeltsin revolt and creating a new group of martyrs for the hard-liners. Nor are rank-and-file legislators likely to depart Moscow in silence. Support for Yeltsin in the provinces is soft enough that parliamentary dissidents might be able to stir up plenty of trouble before a December vote.

Yeltsin cannot be certain that all will remain quiet in the military either. Unit commanders in the Russian army may have affirmed their loyalty, but regional mutinies might flare up, led by officers angered at the breakdown of the once mighty Soviet armed forces. "There are forces trying to bring officers to the barricades against each other," Grachev conceded last week. "If the officer corps splits and takes up arms, this could be the start of a genuine civil war."

The Russian leader took pains to demonstrate that business was not just going on as usual at the Kremlin: he wanted to show that the pace of decision making had picked up dramatically without a parliament to thwart him. Yeltsin has reappointed Yegor Gaidar, the original architect of his economic reforms, | to the government, signaling his intent to move back to a more radical course. He played host to an economic summit of leaders from the Commonwealth of Independent States, who pledged him their support. He confirmed central-bank chairman Victor Gerashchenko while taking control of the country's main financial operation, formerly subservient to the parliament. Yeltsin even displayed a willingness to put his own political future on the line by moving up the date for presidential elections from 1996 to June 1994.

Yeltsin's greatest challenge will be to demonstrate that he can govern effectively by presidential decree for the next 11 weeks. That may not seem like a long time, but on Russia's troubled calendar, it can be a political eternity. Should he falter with his reforms now, he will no longer be able to blame parliamentary opposition when critics complain that his policies have done little more than promote corruption and impoverish the population. Yeltsin may just find himself confronting a new parliament that is every bit as ornery as the old one.

With reporting by J.F.O. McAllister/Washington and William Mader/London