Boris Bounces Back

Before Leonid Brezhnev degenerated into an medal-bedecked vegetable in the late 1970s, he had been known as a connoisseur of fast women and fast cars. Conventions of international protocol made it impossible for Western leaders to indulge their Soviet counterpart in the former, but pandering to the latter became almost de rigueur: Brezhnev often brought back home from a foreign visit yet another powerful car to complement his remarkable private automobile collection, and always insisted on personally trying out the new acquisition. Once, in Germany, Brezhnev wished to try a Mercedes he just received as a present. Before bodyguards could react, he jumped behind the wheel and raced away, nearly wrecking the car.

Brezhnev's love of reckless driving was reflected in a popular joke: once, the Leader went through a red light in the posh Kutuzovski Prospect in Moscow, where he had his city apartment. An enraged traffic cop tried to pull the car over, but then saw the driver, and froze in astonishment. When his Captain asked what was the matter, the petrified cop could only blurt out: "I saw Himself passing by." "Who is Himself?" the Captain wondered. "I dunno, but his driver was Brezhnev," the stunned cop explained.

Stunning lesser mortals has always been a privilege of Russian bosses. Boris Yeltsin was particularly good at it: conducting an orchestra in Berlin; sleeping it off aboard his plane, as the Irish Prime Minister patiently waited for him in Shannon in 1994; abruptly resigning on the New Year's Eve in 2000; and hand-picking a virtually unknown Vladimir Putin as his successor. "Who is Mister Putin?" the stunned world kept asking.

Last week, Yeltsin did it once again. On a visit to Belarus, the former Russian President made it quite clear that he remains in charge. "I have meetings every day," he said, "with ministers, with [Prime Minister Mikhail] Kasyanov, Putin — all the time. It is like being a guarantor of stability." It is like being a puppet-master, more likely.

It has never been much of a secret for the political élite in Moscow that Putin and key members of his administration regularly pay visits to Yeltsin and — more importantly — to such key figures of the former Yeltsin regime as his daughter Tatyana Dyachenko or her new husband Valentin Yumashev, once Yeltsin's chief of staff. It has never been much of a secret that Putin is closely surrounded by such key figures of the former regime as Prime Minister Kasyanov, his chief of staff Alexander Voloshin, his propaganda minister Mikhail Lesin, and Anatoli Chubais (whose job is just being Chubais), to name just a few. It has been long rumored that the new team of security services officers and St. Petersburg officials brought by Putin to Moscow has been losing the behind-the-scenes fight to the old team, colloquially known as the Family.

But it was for the first time in Belarus last week that the head of the Family — once nearly dying, now very much his old resolute, no-nonsense and robust self — publicly confirmed his role. Or else, felt it appropriate enough to challenge his hand-picked heir, adding credence to the abundant rumors of the Family being quite unhappy with the Chosen One for not delivering on his commitments to protect their financial and political interests. Well, unlike the wretched cop in the Brezhnev joke, we can now answer the question: Who is Himself? But that raises another question: Who is Putin?