In democratic political systems, elections are seen as defining moments. They are meant to resolve for a definite period, usually three, four or five years, who is going to govern the country and what sorts of policies will be set in train. They are the moments when the popular will is supreme, when the views of the populace have a defining influence on the contours of political life, when political elites must take account of the views of their constituents. Elections are thus a key to the development of the political system, and they can constitute major points of definition of the future development of the society as a whole; the notion of "realignment elections" in American history(1) is one example of this sort of election. In the lead-up to the presidential election in June-July 1996, this was popularly portrayed as being a crucial defining election. It was seen as being a choice between continuing reform in a democratic market direction and a return to communist rule, between the reformist Yeltsin and the reactionary Zyuganov, between the future and the past. Even allowing for the hyperbole in such descriptions, the election fell far short of the decisive event implicit in these descriptions. Instead of resolving major questions, the election merely highlighted those still remaining and added some other pressing issues to the list. What sorts of issues have been placed on the agenda by the election?
The Question of Power
The announcement of the results after the second round of the presidential election, with Yeltsin defeating Zyuganov 53.8% to 40.3%, seemed to give a decisive answer to the question of "who runs Russia"? Yeltsin had come back from badly lagging behind his rival at the start of the year when his opinion poll rating was in the single digits, to a stunning victory in the summer. This seemed to be an unambiguous and decisive victory, placing the power of the highest office in the land firmly in the hands of its incumbent. However this verdict appeared less certain soon after the poll was declared and the extent of Yeltsin's illness became publicly apparent.
Concerns about Yeltsin's health had been current before this time, perhaps most strikingly in mid-late 1995 when he suffered two heart attacks (in July and October). However the concerns that these evoked seemed to be allayed during the election campaign for the first round of voting when Yeltsin pursued a vigorous and energetic round of public activities. Not only was his campaign schedule punishing, but he seemed to make a special effort to show the world that he was fit and healthy; the much photographed dancing at the rock concert in Red Square is perhaps the best example of this. But this took its toll, and in the two weeks between the first and second rounds of voting, Yeltsin scarcely appeared in public. Indeed, during this time, perhaps on 30 June,(2) he suffered a further heart attack. Henceforth he appeared in public only to vote and at his inauguration, and on both occasions he looked a seriously ill man. The truth was publicly acknowledged by Yeltsin himself when he announced on television on 5 September that he had a heart problem requiring an operation. On 25 September a meeting of heart specialists declared that such an operation was necessary but would have to be postponed for some eight-ten weeks while the patient built up his strength. If the operation was then to take place some time about Christmas, and it was successful, the president would presumably not return to full duty for some four-five months. If this timetable is correct, Russia would be without a functioning president for some ten months, July 1996-May 1997. If the operation was to be cancelled and Yeltsin neither stepped down nor improved dramatically, this timetable would be extended. This has both personal and potential systemic implications.
Constitutionally there is no vice-president to step into the president's shoes in cases of incapacity. Should the president die or be incapacitated during his term of office, the prime minister takes over presidential powers (with some exceptions; eg. he cannot prorogue the State Duma) but must call a new presidential election within three months. Should the president die, this procedure is clear with a definite starting point. However there is no means specified for establishing when the president is incapacitated and therefore when the prime minister should take over. This means that there can be a vacuum, when the president is incapacitated but refuses to acknowledge it and no one has the constitutional power to remove him temporarily from office. In the current situation, Yeltsin has been a president reluctant to give up power. He seems to have passed some of his powers to the prime minister while seeking to retain active control over the political agenda, and has talked about passing his full powers on only for the period he is undergoing the operation. Such a plan is clearly a recipe for a lack of leadership and drift and, if followed, promises to prolong the sense of immobilism that has sat over much of Russian politics since the election.
Yeltsin's incapacity has also unleashed a process of manoeuvring for power among those in his entourage. The struggle for succession which was always bound to occur towards the end of his term of office has thus been brought on right at the start and, should Yeltsin recover, is likely to be a feature of political life until the next election. At this stage, there appear to be three principal contenders, each with their own strengths and weaknesses. In evaluating those strengths and weaknesses, we must keep in mind that in order to be successful, each of these contenders must negotiate two different stages in the process: the consolidation and strengthening of their position within elite political/bureaucratic circles, and the generation of popular support in order to win the election.
Prime Minister Viktor Chernomyrdin is currently the key political actor. As the constitutional inheritor of the president's powers, he is also the closest that there is to Yeltsin's anointed successor. But more important than this, he possesses a significant power base within both the government and the bureaucratic conglomerates which are coming to dominate the economy. The role he has played since becoming prime minister in December 1992 has enabled him to build up a solid constituency within the government and some of its ministries the like of which neither of his two potential challengers possesses. In the internal politics of the elite he seems to have handled himself skilfully. He has not lost many major battles and has been victorious on a range of policy issues, suggesting a capacity for political in-fighting that is highly developed. Furthermore his close association with the fuel and energy sector through Gazprom has given him the sort of bureaucratic constituency which can be very significant in the type of corporatist politico-economic arrangement that seems to be emerging in Russia. His record as an effective economic manager, perhaps appearing more positive than it is because of the comparison with the Gaidar team that went before, and a moderate reformer keen not just to advance the reform process but also to protect some major interests, is also likely to widen his appeal within bureaucratic circles. At the more popular level, the picture is likely to be mixed. He gained much credit, and media exposure, for his successful defusing of the Budennovsk hostage crisis in mid-1995. He is far from a charismatic politician, but does have a political machine in the form of the Our Home is Russia party to get out the popular vote (although it could get only 10.13% of the vote in December 1995). Nevertheless his image does seem to be one of quiet competence and reliability, of being someone in whose hands the reins of power can be left with confidence that they will not be abused. This positive image may be countered in part by the possibility that Chernomyrdin may be blamed for the economic difficulties many people have been experiencing, and in this regard his closeness to Yeltsin could be a handicap.
The second protagonist in the manoeuvring for power is Yeltsin's national security adviser, Alexander Lebed. He is the quintessential political outsider, having been promoted into his position on the strength of his third placing in the first round of the presidential election and Yeltsin's desire to woo his supporters in the second round. Lebed is a former Afghan veteran who came to prominence when, as leader of the Russian army in the trans-Dnestr region of independent Moldova, he mobilised the troops in defence of the ethnic Russian separatist regime and community. This won him much popularity, something strengthened by his image as a tough-talking, uncompromising and incorruptible army officer. Amid an election campaign where there was tangible popular distaste for politicians of many persuasions, this image of a "clean-skin" was attractive to some 14.5% of the electorate. But Lebed took with him into office no established institutional power base that would be of use to him in elite conflict (assuming that he would not seek to use part of the military to resolve civilian political conflict), and the national Security Council which he came to head possessed little in the way of bureaucratic weight in Moscow elite politics. Since his promotion Lebed has been trying to develop such a power base through the defence ministry. His supporter Colonel-General Igor Rodionov was made Defence Minister in place of his opponent Pavel Grachev, and it is assumed that the people Rodionov has been able to appoint will look with some favour on Lebed, although it now seems that Lebed's ability to continue to consolidate his support through such appointments may be significantly restricted in the future (see below). He has thus far been less successful in making inroads into the security apparatus, the FSB.
The third elite figure is Anatolii Chubais, the chief of the official presidential staff. Chubais had overseen much of the official privatisation program before being removed as first deputy prime minister in January 1996 in an attempt by Yeltsin to distance himself from a person whose performance had been subject to controversy. Chubais then worked on Yeltsin's election campaign before being restored to a public office in mid-July after the presidential election. Upon his appointment, Chubais proceeded to strengthen his position. He reorganised the presidential staff,(3) bringing it more effectively under his supervision, brought in a number of people who had worked with him in St Petersburg (most prominently, three of his five deputies, Yarov, Kazakov and Kudrin), and moved to assert his right to act as a gatekeeper for the ailing president; according to some reports, it was Chubais who decided who was to see the president and who was not, while all presidential decrees must pass through his office before being issued. In the public realm, Chubais' profile may be more mixed. To the extent that there is popular resentment at the extent of insider privatisation, it is Chubais who bears the responsibility for this. However it is precisely his role in the privatisation process that may also be a source of strength for Chubais, in the sense that many of those groups who profited from this process will be likely to support him. They could see him as the defender of their gains, someone who could not seek to revisit the results of the privatisation policy without thereby calling into question his own earlier action. In this sense, Chubais may have a diffuse but potentially powerful constituency among the emergent private sector of the Russian economy.
With Yeltsin's incapacity, the manoeuvring among these three has been intense. Most of the public action has centred on Lebed. By taking on responsibility for resolving the Chechen conflict (whether by choice or not), and by seeming to achieve a major breakthrough involving the possibility of peace (even if by postponing the issue which was at the heart of the conflict in the first place, that of Chechen demands for independence), Lebed substantially boosted both his popular profile and the apparent level of popular support. However this was clearly not greeted with universal enthusiasm within governing circles, within the Duma, and within parts of the military. While Chernomyrdin publicly supported Lebed's agreement with the Chechen leaders, his tone was unenthusiastic. Similarly while Lebed's visit to NATO headquarters in October 1996 may have softened his image in the West, his seeming acceptance of NATO expansion left him vulnerable to an avalanche of criticism in Russia. Furthermore Lebed has found it difficult to navigate in the whirling stream of Kremlin politics. For a long time after negotiating the Chechen accord, Lebed was unable to obtain a personal meeting with Yeltsin. He found himself frustrated and thwarted seemingly at each turn, causing him on a number of occasions to threaten to resign; the most spectacular instance of this was when he called for the sacking of Interior Minister Kulikov for treason, blaming him for the fall of Grozny to Chechen fighters in August, but instead of dismissing Kulikov, the president awarded him a medal for bravery. The threat to resign is a high risk strategy for Lebed, who has publicly touted himself as Yeltsin's successor and has even suggested that this could be before the president's constitutional term ends. Those around Yeltsin, including Chernomyrdin and Chubais, dismiss such ambitions, and take measures to subvert them with Yeltsin's support. The most important of these was the appointment on 3 October of the Chernomyrdin-Chubais sponsored Yuri Baturin as the head of the committee which oversees top military appointments. Baturin was Lebed's predecessor as national security adviser, and the appointment was a clear rebuff for Lebed. In the face of palpable distrust by the president, Lebed is finding it more difficult to negotiate the pathways of Moscow elite politics than to appeal to a popular constituency on a nationalist platform.
But although the two insiders, Chernomyrdin and Chubais, may combine to combat Lebed's challenge, they too are in competition. This is not just a power struggle between two individuals. It is a competition between different sets of interests seeking to further their aims through the governmental structure. With the quasi-corporatist structures emerging in Russia whereby large economic sectors unite and seek defence of their interests through "representatives" in the governing structure, leading political figures become associated with such structures in ways which help to determine the policy positions they advocate. In this sort of situation, where economic competition overlaps with political conflict, clearly defined camps can emerge within governing circles. In this context, many argue that Chernomyrdin is the representative more generally of the sectoral interests of the economy (more specifically of the fuel and energy sector, Gazprom), and Chubais of the financial and banking interests.(4) Economic policy thereby becomes not just a matter of economic management, but of political power, and it is a crucial battle ground in the struggle for the Yeltsin succession. The Gaidar experience alone shows the participants how important economic policy can be for political ambition.
But the question of power is not just a personal one; it has important institutional aspects. One of these relates to the efficacy and stability of the decision-making process. The Constitution publicly ratified in December 1993 placed principal initiating power in the hands of the president. The system was structured in such a way that it relies upon an activist chief executive to function effectively; the constitutional division of powers means that if the president is a passive figure, much of the legislative drive and impetus will be missing. The system's capacity to respond to crisis and even to ensure the effective day-to-day conduct of national life may thus be called into question and the whole system thereby thrown out of balance.
At a more practical level, with Yeltsin out of the picture and a struggle occurring between his would-be successors, the decision-making process becomes significantly less predictable. Issues will be more subject to the vagaries of factional conflict and considerations of partisan advantage than they would be were the decision-making circles more stable. It is likely that stasis and gridlock could result as the different forces seek to prevent their competitors from gaining ground in the continuing struggle.
A passive presidency also creates opportunities for those in the legislature who would like to reverse the substantial shift of power achieved with the 1993 Constitution. In early 1994 different elements within the State Duma announced their desire to restore a political system in which the legislature rather than the president was the predominant element. The communists even called for the complete abolition of the presidency. While little of this rhetoric has been evident in recent times, it is clear that elements within the legislature have been chafing under the secondary role they have been accorded under the 1993 constitutional arrangements. Should the presidential arm of state become paralysed, there would be new incentive for people to try to reverse the balance of power. Indeed, the experience of a paralysed Yeltsin presidency would provide strong arguments for those seeking to reduce the power of the chief executive.
A passive presidency, translated into a less dynamic political centre, could also have implications for the federal structure. While much of the alarmist talk of 1992 and 1993 about the possible break up of the Russian Federation is no longer heard, the relationship between the centre and the regions retains a high degree of uncertainty. The different standing of the Russian regions and the constituent republics generally still causes resentment among many of the former, while the special arrangements that have been constructed in a series of bilateral treaties between centre and regions is also a cause of uncertainty.(5) Local opposition to intrusive central direction, perhaps best illustrated in the centre's inability to collect taxes, remains, especially among those areas which would be economically best placed to go it alone. The lessons of the Chechen conflict are unclear; on one hand, it shows the lengths that the centre would go to prevent local independence, but on the other it has shown the incapacity of that centre to forcefully impose its will upon local dissidents. It may be that the centre has learned from this; experience shows that negotiations are more likely to bring success than a forceful approach, and the fact that the Yeltsin administration concluded 14 treaties with different regions in the six months before the presidential poll suggests that it will seek to continue this sort of strategy. But even with such an approach, the existence of these sorts of tensions in federal relations may mean that if the centre were to collapse into illness-induced passivity, it may be that the leaderships in some regions will be tempted to use the vacuum to increase local autonomy.
Thus the paradox of the question of power is that, although the election gave Yeltsin a new mandate to govern, his illness has robbed him of the capacity to exercise that mandate. Thus in this sense the election failed to achieve its principal aim: to establish unambiguously an effective government for Russia.
Lessons for the Political Parties
The legislative election of December 1995 and the presidential election of June-July 1996 generated different problems for the main political parties. The largest party as reflected in both electoral contests was the Communist Party of the Russian Federation. Electoral statistics confirm what many observers have been saying, that this party is the best organised with the most far flung organisational network of any of the Russian parties. But this apparent solid position may be misleading. The presidential election suggests that the party will be unlikely to be able to generate sufficient votes to gain a majority. In the second round, the choice was clearly a communist vs anti-communist one, and in this contest, despite all of the reasons people had for voting against Yeltsin (including economic hardship, the Chechen war, broken promises and doubts about his health), the communists still fell well short of a majority. Furthermore their electorate is likely to shrink in the future. In the legislative elections, their supporters were overwhelmingly much older than those of their main opponents.(6) The communist vote came overwhelmingly from those sections of society most hurt by the economic reforms; pensioners on fixed incomes, middle aged blue collar workers unable to adjust and take advantage of the new opportunities, and the less well educated. This suggests that the propensity to vote communist is determined less by age than by personal situation. This means that, as long as the economy does not continue to deteriorate, as the electorate ages, it will not shift to increased communist support. If this is the case, as existing communist voters die off, they are unlikely to be replaced in the same numbers by new supporters, meaning that the communist electoral base will shrink. The challenge for the KPRF will be to expand its appeal beyond this established support base. But this will be difficult because of the internal party situation (see below).
The geographical distribution of votes also suggests problems for the KPRF. In both the legislative and presidential elections, the strongest centres of communist support were in the so-called "red belt" oblasts of the black earth region of Russia.(7) But perhaps more important is the fact that, in the presidential election, rural areas tended to vote for the communist candidate Zyuganov while the larger cities supported Yeltsin. Even in the regions won by the respective candidates, this held true; in the red belt, many of the big cities voted for Yeltsin, in the northern regions won by Yeltsin, much of the countryside voted for Zyuganov.(8) While this may reflect organisational, with the communist organisational network substantially more intact in the countryside, and demographic, with many old people left on the land as the younger went off to the cities, realities, it would be a worry for the communist future. The party will need to generate policies which will appeal beyond this electorate if it is to gain a predominant position in the political system.
However the KPRF is likely to face significant difficulties in its attempt to construct policy positions which will enable it to break out of its predominantly aged and rural base. The principal difficulty relates to the party itself and what it stands for. As the acknowledged inheritor of the CPSU, the party will always be subject to the sort of anti-Soviet scare campaign run by the pro-Yeltsin media in the lead up to the presidential election. But this inheritance is also a problem in another way. It makes it difficult for the party to decide on a clear policy position: should it support a return to the Soviet Union, or should it opt for a more social democratic line like many of its counterparts in Eastern Europe? There is no agreement within the party on this issue, with the result that there is no basic consensus on where they want to go. In the elections thus far, the party has got around this problem by being vague on policy commitments and vigorous on government criticism. Zyuganov's electoral message differed depending upon the constituency he was addressing. This vagueness allowed the different factions in the party to hang together, but it is not clear that such a strategy is consistent with the sort of expansion of electoral appeal which the party needs. As it works towards what it sees as a more appealing electoral message, policy issues will come up for debate and resolution, and this process will be likely to sharpen the differences which have hitherto been submerged. This will be a difficult process for the party to manage, but given the nature of its electoral base, it may have little alternative but to attempt it.
The "democratic" forces in the political system also face a dilemma, but it is of a different type to that of the communists. Despite the improved performance of the communists in the 1995 election compared with that of 1993, the level of electoral support for the democratic parties actually increased.(9) Like the communists, this figure remains well below a majority. If the democrats are to hope to gain a stable position of primacy within the Russian polity, they must work at extending this electoral support by gaining the adherence both of the supporters of other parties and by encouraging new voters to participate. Should the economy pick up, it is likely that some of the credit for this will flow to these groups. But even if this happens, the democrats will have to work at what has been a major handicap in their political life thus far, disunity. Throughout the life of independent Russia, the democratic side of politics has been plagued by disunity. In part this has been a reflection of policy differences, particularly over the shock therapy policy implemented by the Gaidar administration, but it seems also to have been substantially fuelled by personality conflicts. Leading democrat politicians consistently refused to subordinate their ambitions and egos to the common good. Even when the electoral choice was between Yeltsin and Zyuganov, it was not clear for some time that all of the leading democrat politicians would throw their support behind the president. Certainly Yeltsin himself has been a source of disunity, and the Chechen war has further divided the democratic camp, but such disunity cannot in the long term stabilise democratic politics.
This question of unity becomes even more pressing when it is realised that a major item on the democrats' agenda must be to find a replacement for Yeltsin. Even if Yeltsin does recover from heart surgery, constitutionally he cannot stand for another term as president. Thus when the next election comes around in less than four years, democratic interests would presumably be best served by uniting behind a single candidate. Prime Minister Chernomyrdin clearly has his sights set upon mobilising such support, presenting himself as the person best placed to continue the democratising and marketising reforms associated with Yeltsin, but without the same pain and hardship. Yabloko leader Grigorii Yavlinskii is also an important figure, but it is not clear that he would be able to work with Chernomyrdin in a consistent fashion; one of the concessions Yavlinskii sought for backing Yeltsin in July 1996 was removal of Chernomyrdin. But with the likelihood that both will still be around in leading circles as the next election approaches, the democrats will have to find some way of bridging the differences between these two figures and bringing unity to their ranks.
For the nationalists, the election returns also present problems. In the Duma elections, the nationalist vote dropped from 22.92% of the votes and 64 seats to 19.94% and 57 seats. Although not disastrous, this decline in support was significant. However appreciation of its meaning is clouded somewhat by the role of the KPRF which also pitched its appeal at those within the populace likely to respond to appeals from a "patriotic" direction. Leaving aside the communists, what the vote showed was a halving in support for the largest of the nationalist parties, Zhirinovskii's Liberal Democratic Party of Russia; although the number of seats it won only fell from 64 to 50, its vote fell from 22.92% to 11.18%. All of the other nationalist groups, including the Congress of Russian Communities which was associated with Lebed, performed badly, failing to break the 5% electoral barrier. Similarly in the first round of the presidential election, the leading candidates seeking to represent a nationalist constituency, Lebed and Zhirinovskii, came in a distant third and fifth (with Yavlinskii in between) behind Yeltsin and Zyuganov. The message seems to be clear: nationalism alone will not be sufficient to win majority electoral support. While all political groups must remain sensitive to the sorts of issues which nationalist forces have tried to appropriate (most importantly the fate of Russians in the near abroad), these must be supplemented by established positions on the broader range of policies currently on the political agenda.
Credibility
The third set of problems which the election has thrown up is that of credibility. There are two principal aspects of this. The first concerns the media. If Russia is to have a healthy democracy, it must have a vigorous free press. While formal steps have been taken to establish the basis for this through the privatisation of much of the print and electronic media, their performance during the election campaign gives cause for some concern. In the national media during both the legislative and presidential elections, all pretence at an even-handed treatment of those seeking election was ignored. In both cases, but particularly in the presidential election, the media openly supported the president and vigorously criticised the communists. The presidential election was particularly marked in this regard. Prior to Yeltsin's announcement that he intended running for office, he was the object of widespread criticism and lampooning in both the print and electronic media, especially over the Chechen war issue. However once he entered the race, the media halted its criticism and instead launched a highly partisan campaign of support for the president and opposition to the communists. The high point of this came in the lead up to polling with the running on national television of film clips showing the worst sides of the Soviet period (including the terror and forced collectivisation) and movies critical of the USSR, and in the period between the first and second rounds when Yeltsin had disappeared from view and the media failed not only to discuss his illness, but even to make anything out of his absence. Once Yeltsin had been re-elected, the media reverted to its pre-campaign line whereby the president again became liable to criticism.
The role of the media may be explained by the closeness between media chiefs and the Yeltsin administration. Alternatively it may be as some journalists claimed that they understood that a return of the communists would mean restrictions on the media and that the natural course was therefore to support Yeltsin. But regardless of the reason, the actions of the media were hardly consistent with democratic principles. Furthermore the blatant way in which the media changed, from criticism to slavish support to criticism of Yeltsin, would be likely to generate significant cynicism among the public. If the media can be seen so openly to manipulate the message they are presenting, how can they be trusted to present a balanced perspective on anything they report? The likelihood is that the media's performance has significantly undermined public trust in it and clearly cast its integrity into question.
The second aspect for which credibility may now have become an issue is the system itself. A democratic system relies for its stability in part upon the conviction of its citizens that it is a desirable mode of governance. This must in turn depend upon the system's credibility, which must be related to the perception that it will produce a fair result. Despite the form in which the vote was brought on and the suspicions about fraud which continue to surround the December 1993 election, up until the presidential poll there was little popular questioning of the democratic system. Voting statistics showed increasing levels of participation over the 1993, 1995 and 1996 national polls, even while public opinion surveys suggested there was widespread public apathy and indifference to politics. But it is not clear that the apparent popular belief in the system will survive the presidential poll. It is clear that Yeltsin's illness and its seriousness was kept from the public during the election campaign. Neither the president's campaign team nor the media even raised the question of whether Yeltsin was in a fit state to govern the country, and when the communists tried to give this issue an airing, they were frustrated. The public was misled by the way in which the democratic process was manipulated by one side of politics, and it is likely that this experience will not only make the Russian people more cynical about their politicians, but could even tarnish the system as a whole in their eyes. If this has happened, it will not be easy to correct.
These issues of power, of party development and of credibility are crucial for the future development of the Russian polity. In the sort of situation which now prevails, with powerful economic interests jockeying for position in an emergent pseudo-corporatist structure, with organised crime consolidating itself in various parts of the Russian system, with domestic policy in need of major governmental attention, and with foreign policy challenges emerging right on Russia's frontiers, it is not the time for the system to lapse into a state of drift and indecision. Unfortunately, that is likely to be precisely the result of the illness of the president.
Graeme Gill
Department of Government
University of Sydney
Endnotes
(1) This refers to elections in which basic voting patterns are fundamentally transformed, and has been widely used in discussions of US elections. For the initial outline, see V.O. Key, "A Theory of Critical Elections", The Journal of Politics 17, February 1953.
(2) Izvestiia 30 June 1996.
(3) Rossiiskie vesti 18 September 1996.
(4) eg. Nezavisimaia gazeta 1 October 1996.
(5) For one discussion, see James Hughes, "Moscow's Bilateral Treaties Add to Confusion", Transition 2, 19, 20 September 1996, pp.39-43.
(6) Sarah Oates, "Vying for Votes on a Crowded Campaign Trail", Transition 2, 4, 23 February 1996, p.29.
(7) Robert W. Orrtung & Scott Parrish, "Duma Votes Reflect North-South Divide", Transition 2, 4, 23 February 1996, pp. 12-14 and Robert W. Orrtung & Anna Paretskaya, "Presidential Election Demonstrates Rural-Urban Divide", Transition 2, 19, 20 September 1996, pp.33-38.
(8) Orrtung & Paretskaya, p.33.
(9) The parties included here are Yabloko, Workers Self Government, Russia's Democratic Choice, Forward Russia!, Pamfilova-Gurov-Lysenko Group, and Our Home is Russia. Data from Robert W. Orttung (sic), "Duma Elections Bolster Leftist Opposition", Transition 2, 4, 23 February 1996, p.7.