The esteemed Artemy Lebedev got so worked up that he even wrote a post without a single swear word. It’s nice to see, of course, but it would be even nicer to get some substantive answers from him.
So, let’s go through this step by step.
Some time ago, Artemy Lebedev, head of the design studio that bears his name, wrote a post commenting on my presidential bid. It was a vivid and interesting post, full of imagery and colorful epithets.
The gist of the post is that I would make a very bad president because the greatest achievement of my life was being class monitor. I’ve done nothing else, achieved nothing else, and so on.
I took this with understanding, because Artemy Lebedev is a major government contractor, and his company’s prosperity depends on his political stance. If you don’t rush out, bending over backward to defend Sobyanin and Liksutov, you may find yourself without a sweet little contract for some signs in the metro.
I didn’t rush to write a response, especially since, as you can see for yourself from the most popular comments under Artemy’s post, his readers understand the situation perfectly well.
It would be much better, I thought, to remind Artemy and those who share his position about the real projects created by the ACF (Anti-Corruption Foundation). Projects built in the face of government obstruction, unlawful criminal prosecution, funding difficulties, and so on.
I could remind Artemy about RosYama, thanks to which citizens have successfully secured road repairs in many thousands of cases.
Or about RosZhKH, a service used by hundreds of thousands of people.
Or about the investigations, and much else besides. But remembering, once again, Artemy’s main source of enrichment, I thought he would be most interested in the work of the RosPil project, aimed at fighting corruption in public procurement.
Especially since one of RosPil’s first cases was the cancellation of a corrupt 2011 tender for the Bolshoi Theatre website—5.4 million rubles for a website—tailored, as we later learned, specifically for Lebedev’s studio (maybe he’s held a grudge against us ever since).
So I decided to use a concrete example to show that we are in fact capable of quite a lot, and that he is completely wrong in his post.
We compiled, using open-source data, a list of government contracts awarded to Lebedev’s studio. And when we did, we were simply shocked, because for most of these contracts there is no information at all. That runs completely contrary to the law, to common sense, and apparently to the statements made by Lebedev himself and his counterparties.
You constantly see claims like: “Lebedev and Liksutov said the studio made the metro map for 1 ruble!” Sure—today they do something for one ruble, and tomorrow they get another contract worth 117 million rubles. A modest little addition to that one ruble.
Artemy has several legal entities through which government contracts are arranged. For example, LLC “Poor Yorick.” The public-facing name used is “Artemy Lebedev Studio,” although the company of that exact name was liquidated by court order back in 2005.
Here is a typical story involving contracts for the Moscow Metro. In addition to developing the Moscow Metro map for free, the studio also carried out paid work. For example, it worked on the design of floor navigation signage. In the studio’s own words: “At the end of 2013, a tender was announced in Moscow for the design, production, and installation of floor signs in the capital’s subway. Our research institute specialists decided we had to take part. Artemy Lebedev Studio entered the tender together with manufacturing partners: we handled the floor navigation design, while our partners handled production and installation.”
At the same time, the official tender for this work was declared unsuccessful: neither bidder was admitted to participate. And yet the studio did the work, and the navigation system appeared in the Moscow Metro. It is therefore clear that a contract was concluded with Lebedev’s company and/or its partners, but it was never published on the public procurement website. Its final price is also unknown. This cannot be a commercial secret, because the metro is a unitary enterprise owned by the city of Moscow, and its spending must be public and in accordance with the law.
In general, this is a very common pattern with Lebedev’s studio: the portfolio shows an example of work and says the client was Moscow’s Department of X—culture, transport, and so on—but there is no contract on the website.
And most importantly, none of it can be verified. See for yourself. In most cases, the contracts, the prices, and the acceptance certificates are all hidden.
I don’t want to accuse Artemy of anything prematurely, but our experience points clearly to one thing: if they hide the data and the contracts, it means they’re stealing. Stealing a lot. Inflating prices and paying kickbacks.
So we did the proper thing, strictly in the public interest: we requested all the data on all the contracts. Simply so it could be published, and so that we—and you—could look at it.
And what happened next? Artemy Lebedev wrote a heart-rending post, again without a single swear word, in which he cries out, complains, and accuses us (!!) of using administrative leverage (!!).
He recalls 1997, when he was still making money from something other than the state; writes about how many interns and graduates he has; and makes sure to mention that he rides the metro without security.
At the end, for some reason, he writes about being informed on by the ACF and adds, “the informer gets the first lash.” That’s strange. First, this is not informing—it is a demand for transparency in public procurement. And second, if it feels like informing, does that mean there is a crime involved, and that Artemy and his bureaucrat friends have something to hide? Hard to believe, really.
This is especially strange in light of his own statement:
Dear Artemy, we have absolutely no desire to inspect 3,274 projects. We are certainly not interested in your business with private companies. You are free to take pride in your outstanding achievements of 1997 and other years. You work, and you work very well. I once corresponded with you and wanted you to do the design for Sheremetyevo Airport. Recently I ordered from your studio a map showing countries in their true size—for my child’s room. Before that, I ordered a bomb-shaped piggy bank. Two of them. Dasha still has one, and Zakhar has the other. Very cool.
But government contracts come with specific procedures and responsibilities. This is our money—the money of all Russian citizens—that you received from officials. We have every right to know on what terms.
Let’s start with something simple: let the table above include a link to every contract and the price of every contract. Provide us with that data.
This is my demand to you, Artemy, as a citizen, as a candidate, and as a class monitor.
I understand very well that you and people like you very much do not want me to become president. Because for you, that would have a direct consequence: you would have to compete with other studios. No more sole-source procurements. No more government contracts handed out through personal connections. No more money from Liksutov and Sobyanin in exchange for praising them. None of the things that have formed the basis of your business in recent years.
Design, websites, and programming are highly competitive industries. Many talented people in Russia want to make a living from them, and they have every right to do so. Plenty of people would like to build a mobile app for 3.6 million rubles. Or a website for Sokolniki Park for 3.4 million rubles. And for 117 million from the metro, contractors from all over the world would compete. You would have to go out and try to beat them in fair tenders—without kickbacks, without arrangements for “political PR support,” without any of that.
I believe in you, Artemy. You can do it. After all, you did have your moments back in 1997.
In closing, I want to thank you for your attention to my work and for giving me, through your own example, the opportunity to respond to the line from your post: Show me what you’ve done, and then I’ll start trusting you.
Well, among other things, I have done something that will help all residents of Russia better understand your complicated relationship with public money.
Do you trust me now, Artemy?
PS Everyone who wants to help Artemy Lebedev find his way into the world of competition and honest public procurement, sign in support of my nomination.
PPS We are almost certain that, because of Artemy’s extreme secrecy on this subject, we have missed some interesting government contracts of his. But we don’t want to disappoint him with poor work—he craves real action. If you want to tell us something on the subject of “Artemy Lebedev and the state,” write to Black Box completely anonymously.