It’s stupid to end up in a cell if you don’t have slippers and sweatpants

Alexei Navalny, the leader of Russia’s non-systemic opposition, a favorite of Bolotnaya Square (the site of major anti-government protests in Moscow), and an anti-corruption campaigner, is preparing to spend his last hours as a free man. On Thursday, in the city of Kirov, the verdict will be announced in the most high-profile political case of recent years — the Kirovles case. The opposition politician is accused of embezzling state property; prosecutors are seeking a six-year prison sentence in a penal colony and want him taken into custody in the courtroom. Almost no one doubts that the verdict will be guilty. On the eve of his departure for Kirov, Alexei Navalny told MK how he prepared for prison life, why someone on the verge of arrest would run for mayor of Moscow, and what he thinks of the nickname “Lyosha Eight Percent.”

— Alexei, contrary to many people’s expectations, your registration as a mayoral candidate was successful. But isn’t it morally questionable to take signatures from United Russia, which you yourself branded “the party of crooks and thieves”?

— We took what was rightfully ours. When City Hall realized that, because of public pressure, almost no one would recognize an election in which I wasn’t registered, they dismantled their own municipal filter.

— I read on the blog of a United Russia member about your registration as a candidate for mayor of Moscow: now that we’ve let Navalny register, supposedly he’ll “stop tearing our throats out and start eating seeds from our hand.”

— So far it’s turned out exactly the opposite: I brought them some seeds, they pecked at them, and gratefully brought me their signatures. We forced them to let me into the election with the help of their own United Russia people, and in that sense I did a pretty good job of tearing at their throats.

— New polling suggests that Moscow’s protest potential is actually much lower than in the regions. Is this really the right arena to test your strength?

— This isn’t some arena where I’m testing myself; it’s the city where I live and where I do what I’m supposed to do. Even if some poll showed that out of 15 million people I was the only one who thought corruption had to be fought, I’d still do it. Yes, Moscow is the richest city in the country, and social problems are more visible in small towns — as is happening now in Pugachyov. And I wouldn’t say social tension is lower in Moscow; it’s just become even higher in small towns. People got nothing. Over the past 15 years, three trillion dollars’ worth of natural resources have been sucked out of the ground and sold to the West! In Moscow, at least, you can see some traces of that in officials’ Mercedeses or new buildings. But in the town of Pugachyov, you can’t see any sign of it at all.

— And yet you’re running not in Pugachyov but here, where the Levada Center is giving you 8 percent of the vote — how does that strike you?

— Even that 8 percent in the Levada poll puts me in second place, far ahead of everyone else. And that’s despite the fact that federal television says nothing about me except that I’m corrupt, an American agent, and an enemy of the state. Levada’s polling shows that 40 percent of Muscovites don’t know me at all. And the campaign hasn’t even really started yet. So things aren’t so bad. We understand they won’t let us onto television or billboards, but there are places they can’t keep us out of — the streets, the metro, phone calls, door-to-door canvassing.

— Sergei Udaltsov, coordinator of the Left Front and another Bolotnaya figure, also sought to take part in the mayoral election. There were even reports that on the day of the vote on this issue, the Opposition Coordination Council first backed both of you and then only you...

— That didn’t happen; it’s nonsense. You can look at the vote on the Coordination Council website: do you support Navalny, do you support Udaltsov — 59 percent were for my candidacy, 4 people voted against, and 13 didn’t vote.

— One political analyst even put it harshly: “Alexei, where is your brother Sergei?” How is Udaltsov taking this situation?

— He’s under house arrest, so there’s no communication with him at all. To be honest, I was surprised when he put himself forward. I was surprised there wasn’t a party willing to back him. Because you either run through a party or collect 70,000 signatures. A party nomination would have looked more serious. But in general this is a normal situation — there will never be a moment when everyone merges in ecstasy around one person.

— So in your view there’s no basis for conflict, and you and Udaltsov will shake hands when each of you gets out after serving your sentence?

— Udaltsov and I have a lot of political disagreements and a lot of things we agree on. Where we disagree, we’ll argue, and each of us will try to prove to people that we’re right. That’s a normal political process.

— Why do you say they won’t let you on television, when candidates are entitled to airtime?

— The debates will air on channels owned by the city: Moscow 24 and TV Center. In theory, they can’t simply bar me from those channels. But they can just keep me in custody after the verdict is announced. Under Moscow law, authorized representatives can’t take part in debates — only the candidates themselves can. So there’ll be a little sign in the studio saying “Navalny,” and everyone will say, well, he didn’t show up.

— Speaking of the verdict: even if it’s a suspended sentence, you won’t be able to run again in the foreseeable future and improve your election result. Aren’t you afraid of remaining “Lyosha Eight Percent” for years to come?

— They’re already calling me Lyosha the Timber Thief and Lyosha the State Department Agent. These people are hypocritical, disgusting crooks who are afraid of me because I want to kick them out of the places where they steal those billions. And in a way, you can understand them. When some Lyosha shows up and says, “I’m going to rally the people and drive you out,” they do everything they can to stop Lyosha from driving them out. But Lyosha will drive them out anyway.

— Could the verdict take legal effect before election day, so that you would still be removed from the ballot?

— I’m not withdrawing my candidacy — they’re removing me from the election because they’re afraid. We don’t control these things. An appeal is filed within 10 days; after that it can be heard lightning-fast or it may take some time. But if I’m in custody, then of course the big question for us will be whether it makes sense to continue the campaign as an officially registered candidate. Because that’s precisely the goal: to deprive me of the ability to campaign, raise money, meet voters, and then say, ha! look, he only got five percent! That famous internet bubble went to court! The question will be whether we recognize this as an election. I think not.

— So you’re prepared to withdraw your candidacy?

— We’ll see how events develop. There’s no point guessing now. In any case, we can campaign for a boycott, talk about our platform, and debunk the myth that “we have no administrative experience.” And we’ll prove to everyone that “sure, he fights corruption, but he has nothing to offer” is complete nonsense.

— Can you guess whether they’ll remove you as a convicted person or not?

— The authorities live by opinion polls; their strategy is constantly changing. What their next strategy will be, I have no idea.

— Is there any chance of overturning the verdict on legal grounds? For example, Kirov Region Vice Governor Sergei Shcherchkov testified in your favor, but in the prosecution’s final statement his words were quoted as meaning the opposite...

— Yes, they said Shcherchkov acknowledged damages, even though his testimony said exactly the opposite! We’ve posted that testimony on video — he said there were no damages at all, that it was all nonsense.

— Maybe that’s something you can latch onto?

— There’s so much there to latch onto! Aside from Opalyov and his daughter, all thirty-five prosecution witnesses testified in my favor. After that, the judge didn’t allow us to call a single defense witness. The court did not call a single defense witness. They refused to order an independent expert examination. But even all the expert reports in the case also refute the indictment. They say: you stole 16 million rubles, but we have payment orders here for 14 million rubles — in other words, there are mammoth-sized violations all over the place! Fortunately, the trial was videotaped, and anyone can go online and fully убедиться in my innocence; that’s exactly why, even with all this hellish propaganda, Levada’s figures show that an overwhelming plurality — 43 percent to 20 percent — believe the Kirovles case is meant to silence Navalny.

— But when you go to Kirov, will you be going “with your things,” so to speak?

— Last time I went with my things too, because it was clear the judge intended to wrap everything up very quickly. — So you’re fully prepared for arrest?

— The thought doesn’t exactly fill me with joy, but it would be stupid to end up in a cell without slippers and sweatpants. I’ve been in a special detention center twice, which of course can’t be compared with a pretrial detention center, but even so I understand the basic practical things: if you don’t want to lie down on a state-issued sheet, you take out your own and spread it. — It sounds like you’ve studied the issue thoroughly! Who educated you?

— Unfortunately, huge numbers of people in our country, including innocent ones, have gone through this. The internet, stories from acquaintances — all of it is full of that experience. Right now, nearly a million men in our country are under arrest. It’s not exactly esoteric knowledge. There’s even a “what to take with you to pretrial detention” list on Google.

— How do you imagine life in prison and in a penal colony? From books, from stories? — Like anyone who loves Russian literature: both contemporary and classical literature devote a great deal of attention to these questions. Of course, any educated person has read memoirs ranging from Solzhenitsyn and Shalamov to political prisoners from tsarist times. At this stage, what worries me most is contact with the outside world, not daily life. Where will you end up — Chita or Karelia? Will your lawyer be able to visit you? Will I be able to communicate with the Anti-Corruption Foundation so it can keep working? What matters to me is that the foundation’s work continues and that the fight against this feudal order continues. And for a lawyer to travel to Chita to see you, one-way tickets alone can cost 100,000 rubles. Those are the things that concern me.

— How will your projects be financed without you? You’ve said that you put a lot of your own money into opposition work. — From the very beginning, I built my work with the understanding that I could be cut off from all of this. RosPil is completely autonomous; it raises its own money, and it has a well-established system for fighting corruption in state procurement. Our foundation also lives on voluntary donations. Right now, about 30,000 people send us an average of 600 rubles each. If everything follows the negative scenario, people will simply donate more.

— Whom are you leaving behind as the leader of the opposition in your place? — One of the tasks I’ve been trying to solve all this time is to make sure the opposition’s chains of command don’t end with any one person. I’m uncomfortable with that situation; I don’t like it.

— Jealous? While you’re behind bars, the opposition might produce a new presidential candidate?

— Quite the opposite! For many in the opposition, everything has narrowed down to Navalny. But it shouldn’t all hinge on one Navalny. There should be competition. Right now I’ve proved that I’m maximally effective, so I’m claiming a leadership role. But if someone appears who works better than I do, I’ll follow him without any problem.

— Have you already thought about how to build relationships with your cellmates?

— I’m certainly not thinking about what first words I’m supposed to say when entering a cell. There are people everywhere; if you treat them decently, they treat you decently in return.

— You could continue the struggle in the penal colony too, “join forces with the savage bandit world” — I’m quoting the Catechism of a Revolutionary...

— Well, I’m not thinking about things like that. Situations can vary, and it’s not as if I’m planning to stir up riots. Places of detention are, after all, a territory of absolute arbitrariness, even at the level of pretrial detention centers. We’ll deal with problems as they arise.

— Have you studied Khodorkovsky’s experience, given that he managed to conduct himself with dignity in this realm of arbitrariness?

— Naturally, I’ve read his articles. There’s also an interesting book by Pereverzin, who served eight years in the Yukos case. I’ve read that too. What’s interesting is the feeling of a person who is innocent. I’ve already experienced it myself: you know you’re innocent, everyone standing in the courtroom knows you’re innocent, the judge and the prosecutors know you’re innocent, the bailiffs look at you sympathetically, nod, and whisper things like, hang in there. And yet it will still end with them putting handcuffs on you. The feeling is, of course, not a simple one. The important thing is not to become embittered against the whole world.

— And are you prepared for the possibility that you might then get a second sentence, like Khodorkovsky, and perhaps never get out?

— I don’t want to spout heroic nonsense. It’s all a fairly unpleasant subject. But since 2007, when I launched my first cases against Rosneft and Transneft, every single day and in every interview people have asked me: you do understand that sooner or later they’ll imprison you, right? And to be honest, I’m already a little tired of it; the thought even starts creeping in: well then, let them lock me up already!

— Yes, one of my sources in the State Duma seriously assured me on that basis that Navalny is a project of the siloviki (security-service hardliners): just look, they can’t seem to jail him!

— Yes, yes, I’ve often been told that too. And also: “Do you realize what you’re taking on? Those are billions, there’s a whole mafia there!” Okay, and what does that change? I believe in what I’m doing. I don’t believe the country is doomed or that Russians are some lost people. It can’t be that they’ve taken everything from the country’s 140 million people. At best, the oil money goes into insanely expensive Olympics, Universiades, and APEC summits; more often it just goes into houses on the southern coast of France. And “they” don’t even consider those billions stolen. In their view, the Russian people are too insignificant to manage this wealth themselves. Why give it to them? They’ll just drink it away anyway.

— In reality, the people just aren’t ready for democracy.

— That’s exactly what the propagandists on television say, but behind that cherished phrase lies something simple: the cattle wandering the Central Russian Upland and the Ural Mountains can’t be trusted with petrodollars, so it’s better if we spend them on yachts and palaces with fur storage rooms, and then sit there writing articles about how we are the vanguard class and the new elite.

— Let’s imagine: you’re acquitted, and on September 8 you win the election — what happens the next day?

— Putin’s power will turn into a pumpkin. When, in the country’s main city, where 10 percent of the population lives, a person wins who says that these mafia-style principles will no longer apply here, there will be no more falsifications, rallies will be allowed... that’s it. It’s over.

— But it seems to me they could deal with you the way they dealt with Urlashov. For starters, by withholding money for social spending.

— In Moscow that’s impossible. Not unless they fundamentally change the country’s tax system. Moscow has so much money that it is completely autonomous from the federal budget.

— Then the Moscow City Duma would fight you and sabotage your policies.

— The Moscow City Duma is made up of people who were first in Democratic Choice, then in the Union of Right Forces, then in Fatherland, in Unity, and then joined United Russia... If I became mayor tomorrow, it would be hard for me to stop them from joining my party. They’ll kiss up to any power.

— And then some cozy Moscow boyar will come to you and say: Alexei Anatolyevich, please, sir, have some caviar first, and now let’s sign this little contract here, look, it benefits everyone... Human beings are weak, after all!

— If I wanted to reach the point where I could encounter such wonderful temptations, I’d be sitting in United Russia. I want to come to power for a fixed period of time, having entered into a social contract with people: I carry out changes, make their lives better, and then I leave.

— There’s very little time left now — what’s the very last thing before leaving for Kirov with your things packed?

— I need to spend time with my children and give instructions regarding the foundation. I also went through a medical exam, because I was warned that no one would treat you there. Knock on wood, I turned out to be healthy — they checked everything and issued all the certificates. Unfortunately, I’ve just learned that my brother, against whom a case was also fabricated and who has been placed under travel restrictions, is not being allowed to leave Moscow. He won’t even be able to go with me to Kirov for the trial, which means I also need to spend time with his family.

— What about going to the movies, reading a book?

— You can always read a book. But if your child is five now, and in six years will be eleven, then you’ll never again get to play with that five-year-old child. That’s something you can’t postpone or reschedule. So I’m trying to spend more time with my family.

— Will you take it all the way to the Strasbourg court and appeal the ruling?

— Of course we will, but it takes a very long time: Strasbourg is overloaded; it receives 40,000 complaints a year from Russia.

— Don’t you think they don’t give a damn about our human rights over there?

— I don’t think so. They do what they are supposed to do within the framework of legal agreements. But people in Strasbourg, in Europe, and in America definitely will not solve our problems for us. The people wandering the Central Russian Upland have to take this on themselves.

On Russia Day, Alexei Navalny became the opposition’s silent idol (VIDEO)