Christian Lowe

Reuters News correspondent Matt Robinson filed this post from Tbilisi:

Georgian President Mikheil Saakashvili is back. In a marathon Q&A session on Georgian television on Friday he said he himself was in great shape, but that the parliament speaker's heart had recently stopped beating after suffering an allergic reaction to medication.

"As a result his heart stopped, he was in collapse," Saakashvili said, tanned and relaxed. "But then they managed to save him." He pulled his mobile phone from his pocket and read out text messages from his poorly colleague.

As for the prime minister, he's working too hard. "I was calling him at 3 a.m. and he was in the office. I come to work at 11, sometimes 11.15. He's in the office from 8 a.m. I told him he won't last like that."

Saakashvili's relaxed banter dominated the 4-hour show, leaving the impression of a man firmly in control of his government, if not perhaps his train of thought.

The format was familiar. Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin has made a tradition of his annual televised phone-in with Russians, but their styles could hardly be more different. Think more Venezuela's fast-talking Hugo Chavez.

"I'm not planning to die, nor to step down," 41-year-old Saakashvili said.

There was a period recently when it looked as though Saakashvili had dug his own political grave, having attacked breakaway South Ossetia  in August last year and, according to his critics and even some of his allies, effectively walked into war with neighbouring Russia.

He was on the back foot, defending his fateful decision of Aug. 7 and facing renewed criticism of his record on democracy and freedom of speech since coming to power on the back of the 2003 "Rose Revolution".

His late-night briefings and eccentric behaviour -- he chewed his tie on camera before a television interview -- became legendary. His appetite and energy are famous.

But the opposition looks divided.  An opposition rally called for Sunday, Jan 25 was cancelled as leaders bickered over their aims. Saakashvili has quipped that he would have toppled the Georgian government within five months had he been in opposition during such a devastating period. Observers who counted him out
would do well to think again.

"One day (Grigol) Mgaloblishvili won't be prime minister, and one day Saakashvili won't be president, but I'm telling you that as long as I'm in such good shape, no serious collapse threatens our government," he said on Friday.

A mixture of pre-recorded and live studio questions were dominated by social issues, concerns about the economy and the plight of Georgian villagers displaced by the fighting.

But there was little scrutiny of Saakashvili's decision to attack South Ossetia. Many Georgians appear to have accepted his argument that his hand was forced, that the separatists had stepped up shelling of Georgian villages and Russia was sending in armour to help them.

The question of whether the president was to blame rarely reaches Georgian homes. On Friday, Saakashvili steered the debate. Russia is in crisis, he said. "Its economy is standing on fragile glass legs." Georgia, on the other hand, is keeping the global financial crisis at bay.

The difference between Europe having Russian gas as normal and not having it came down, in the end, to three words. They were hand-written next to what looks like the signature of Ukraine's Deputy Prime Minister Hryhory Nemyrya and they were: "With declaration attached".

That was enough to undercut a deal hammered out by Czech Prime Minister Mirek Topolanek, whose country holds the rotating EU Presidency, to deploy monitors along the gas pipeline route -- Russia's condition for turning the taps back on.

The declaration that Nemyrya referred to set out Ukraine's position in a dispute with Moscow over gas prices. It said, among other things, that Ukraine has no outstanding debts to Russia, an assertion with which Moscow strongly disagrees. Russia said the addition of the three words made the monitoring agreement null and void. Deal off.

Which was a shame, because the two sides came tantalisingly close to turning the gas back on.
A few hours earlier, a team of European Union monitors had arrived by bus at the Sudzha gas compressor station in western Russia. They were all set to supervise the resumption of gas flows. They even had a party of journalists in tow to witness the big moment.

In the event, the monitors ate some food, had a tour of the site, and then left for the nearby town of Kursk, presumably to find a hotel for the night. The journalists were loaded onto a bus and driven back to the Ukrainian border where they had come from. For the EU officials trying to get the gas turned back on, it was back to the drawing board. And for people in the worst affected countries in Europe, it meant more days worrying about an energy crisis in mid-winter. 

So whose fault was it? Maybe Topolanek should have stopped Nemyrya inserting those three little words. It's worth asking if these problems would have arisen if the row happened two weeks earlier, when Nicolas Sarkozy still held the EU presidency on behalf of France. Maybe Ukraine should not have tried to amend the agreement by the back door. Maybe Russia should have held its nose and found a way to work around those three words if that was what it took to restore gas flows quickly. Whatever the answer, the episode makes one thing clear: there is total mistrust between the governments of Russia and Ukraine.

The deal could still be resurrected. Russian gas export monopoly Gazprom said early on Monday Ukraine had signed a new version of the agreement, without the conditions. A Russian delegation was on its way to Brussels, possibly to add their signatures to the new version. But even once the deal is done and the gas is flowing again to Europe, the row at the centre of all this, over how much Ukraine should pay for its gas, will still be there. And with so little trust between Moscow and Kiev, as illustrated by the saga of the three little words, that leaves vast potential for new flare-ups.

[CROSSPOST blog: 25 post: 2063]

Original Post Text:
Could it be that the gas dispute between Moscow and Kiev broke out because Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin felt personally slighted by his Ukrainian opposite number, Yulia Tymoshenko?
It may seem far-fetched that two countries would risk leaving half of Europe without gas over something so apparently petty. But a look at the sequence of events that led up to this crisis suggests there just might be something in it.

Rewind back to Oct. 2, and Tymoshenko is meeting Putin at his Novo-Ogaryovo residence outside Moscow. It is a lodge in forested parkland where, as a rule, he only invites people on whom he wants to make a good impression.

The portents were not good. Tymoshenko, often called the "Gas Princess" for the gas business she used to run in eastern Ukraine, has been a driving force behind Kiev’s push to integrate with the West and once wrote an article in a U.S. journal saying Russia had “imperial designs” on its neighbours.

Yet Putin and Tymoshenko seemed to hit it off. The Ukrainian Prime Minister, dressed in a designer outfit and looking much younger than her 47 years (she has since turned 48), radiated charm as she sat opposite her Russian colleague. Putin, the gruff former KGB spy, smiled and cracked jokes at a press briefing with Tymoshenko afterwards. And later that same evening, Putin took Tymoshenko to Gorki, where his boss Dmitry Medvedev has his own out-of-town residence, and they talked late into the night.

Most importantly, the visit ended with a deal on gas: Russia said it would not charge Ukraine market prices for gas straight away, and they agreed a memorandum which would serve as the basis for a new gas contract for 2009.

Now fast forward to December last year and – at least from the Russian perspective – Tymoshenko was going back on her word. The Russian theory goes that Tymoshenko, watching world prices for oil plummet and knowing that gas prices would eventually follow suit, decided that Ukraine should pay less for its gas than she had agreed back in October at Novo-Ogaryovo.

It should be noted that neither side ever made public what was agreed in October so it is impossible to judge if anyone has welched on the deal, and in fact Ukraine says it is Russia that is now failing to honour that agreement.

Either way, the indications from Russian officials are that Putin felt Tymoshenko had betrayed him, and was angry about it. Angry enough to start a gas war? It was probably not the only reason. It is impossible to dismiss the fact that there is a business dispute at play here. And then there is Russia’s well-known dislike for Ukraine’s pro-Western policies. But the theory is at least worth adding to the mix. We already know Putin is a man who takes politics personally. He did, after all, threaten to hang Georgian President Mikheil Saakashvili up by his genitals.

Could it be that the gas dispute between Moscow and Kiev broke out because Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin felt personally slighted by his Ukrainian opposite number, Yulia Tymoshenko?
It may seem far-fetched that two countries would risk leaving half of Europe without gas over something so apparently petty. But a look at the sequence of events that led up to this crisis suggests there just might be something in it.

Rewind back to Oct. 2, and Tymoshenko is meeting Putin at his Novo-Ogaryovo residence outside Moscow. It is a lodge in forested parkland where, as a rule, he only invites people on whom he wants to make a good impression.

The portents were not good. Tymoshenko, often called the "Gas Princess" for the gas business she used to run in eastern Ukraine, has been a driving force behind Kiev’s push to integrate with the West and once wrote an article in a U.S. journal saying Russia had “imperial designs” on its neighbours.

Yet Putin and Tymoshenko seemed to hit it off. The Ukrainian Prime Minister, dressed in a designer outfit and looking much younger than her 47 years (she has since turned 48), radiated charm as she sat opposite her Russian colleague. Putin, the gruff former KGB spy, smiled and cracked jokes at a press briefing with Tymoshenko afterwards. And later that same evening, Putin took Tymoshenko to Gorki, where his boss Dmitry Medvedev has his own out-of-town residence, and they talked late into the night.

Most importantly, the visit ended with a deal on gas: Russia said it would not charge Ukraine market prices for gas straight away, and they agreed a memorandum which would serve as the basis for a new gas contract for 2009.

Now fast forward to December last year and – at least from the Russian perspective – Tymoshenko was going back on her word. The Russian theory goes that Tymoshenko, watching world prices for oil plummet and knowing that gas prices would eventually follow suit, decided that Ukraine should pay less for its gas than she had agreed back in October at Novo-Ogaryovo.

It should be noted that neither side ever made public what was agreed in October so it is impossible to judge if anyone has welched on the deal, and in fact Ukraine says it is Russia that is now failing to honour that agreement.

Either way, the indications from Russian officials are that Putin felt Tymoshenko had betrayed him, and was angry about it. Angry enough to start a gas war? It was probably not the only reason. It is impossible to dismiss the fact that there is a business dispute at play here. And then there is Russia’s well-known dislike for Ukraine’s pro-Western policies. But the theory is at least worth adding to the mix. We already know Putin is a man who takes politics personally. He did, after all, threaten to hang Georgian President Mikheil Saakashvili up by his genitals.

It has been less than a week since Dmitry Medvedev was elected Russian president and he already has the ultimate kitsch accolade: his own matryoshka doll. These are painted wooden figures hollowed out inside to contain a smaller doll, which in turn has an even smaller figure inside, and so on until the penultimate figure opens up to reveal the last tiny doll, usually the size of a fingernail.

The dolls are a Russian folk tradition and a favourite tourist souvenir. Outgoing President Vladimir Putin has long had his own matryoshka. Now his protege does too, selling for 350 roubles ($15) at Izmailovsky market, a vast open-air maze of stalls that sells tourist trinkets.

My wife picked up a Medvedev matryoshka there this week. The stallholder said she ordered the dolls a week before the election. This might have been an audacious business gamble -- if he had lost the vote, there would not be much demand for the dolls. In reality it was just sensible planning. The contest was so one-sided that Medvedev's victory was never in doubt.

Inside Medevedev nestles a slightly smaller Putin, followed in descending order by Russia's first president Boris Yeltsin, last Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev, Leonid Brezhnev, the Soviet leader up to the early 1980s, Josef Stalin, Vladimir Lenin and Tsar Nicholas II. Inside him is a figure who might be Peter the Great, but he is so small it is hard to tell.

There is a big debate underway at the moment over who will really be in charge after Medvedev is sworn in on May 7 -- the new president or the powerful Putin, who will become prime minister. If, in a dark moment, Medvedev is feeling frustrated that he is still in his mentor's shadow, he could take comfort from looking at his matryoshka doll. There at least, he is bigger than Putin.

When Russian newspaper Express Gazeta announced a competition of children's art entitled: "How do you see the future president", the entrants proved astute judges of Russian politics: they all submitted drawings of Dmitry Medvedev, the Kremlin-backed favourite.

Reuters Moscow correspondent James Kilner went along to an exhibition of the artwork to see how children saw life after the March 2 presidential election for Medvedev and outgoing President Vladimir Putin. 

The exhibition -- tucked away in a scruffy hall in central Moscow -- stars Medvedev as Russian president solving the world's problems and Putin as a retired man-of-leisure relaxing on a river bank or walking his dog. "All the entrants in the contest are confident of Dmitry Medvedev's victory in the election," the organisers said in a press release.

"Strong President -- Strong Russia," 16-year-old Yelena from Russia's Far East wrote underneath her drawing of a topless Medvedev holding a kingly golden orb in his right hand and a heavy weight in his left hand.  Any dedicated fitness enthusiast would have been jealous of the body Yelena had drawn on Medvedev. His stomach muscles bulge around a thin waist and his biceps protrude from strong arms. 

There were no pictures of the other candidates in the election. Most of the dozens of Medvedev drawings showed him looking presidential wearing a dark suit, giving an order over the telephone and improving Russia -- better housing, higher pensions, stronger soldiers.

Other pictures, though, had a different flavour. One shows Medvedev and his wife Svetlana celebrating new year. Only coffee cups clutter the table but Medvedev appears to be falling off his chair.

In another Medvedev lounges on a sofa with his arm draped around a blonde woman wearing an evening gown. His fingers brush the woman's shoulder but he is exchanging glances with another woman sitting on his left. 

While the meaning of these two pictures is unclear, another black-and-white drawing by the exit is even more cryptic.  "Dmitry Medvedev in his free time sits at home and conducts scientific experiments," the picture's caption reads underneath a sketch of an expressionless Medvedev sitting in the dark and
mixing chemical test tubes. 

By contrast Putin strikes a far more relaxed tone in the drawings. Apparently with the pressures of work lifted from his shoulders Putin strolls through parks with his black Labrador Connie, practices judo or fishes.

In one picture a smiling Putin sits on a sun-drenched island. A Russian flag flutters in the background. On it is written: "Putin was here".    

Reuters Moscow correspondent Guy Faulconbridge was among a group of journalists invited on Sunday to a shooting range with Vladimir Zhirinovsky, the nationalist firebrand who is running in the March 2 presidential election. Here are his reflections on what he saw and heard:

What better to blow away the election blues than a bit of shooting and vodka? And who better to liven up the atmosphere than Vladimir Zhirinovsky?

Especially when he is accompanied by his new party colleague Andrei Lugovoy, the former KGB agent suspected by Britain of murdering Russian emigre and Kremlin critic Alexander Litvinenko in London.

The venue is a shooting range outside Moscow owned by Lugovoy's private security company. Zhirinovsky, dressed in full combat fatigues, inspects the weapons and picks a giant shotgun. Before shooting he tells the organisers to give the journalists some tranquilisers so they don't get scared.

Three identical cardboard men -- who he says are election opponents Andrei Bogdanov, Communist Leader Gennady Zyuganov and Kremlin-backed frontrunner Dmitry Medvedev - are the targets.

"Three bullets for Medvedev and all hits to the most dangerous places," Zhirinovsky says as he inspects the silhouettes. "Just look at that - I hit Medvedev! Who else can do that?"

The 61-year-old launches into a tirade about Britain, saying London has always been the enemy of Russia. Lugovoy -- who says he had nothing to do with the death of Litvinenko, a former spy -- also shows off his shooting skills for the photographers. For the record, he is an excellent shot. Then we retire for vodka.

After half a litre with Zhirinovsky, we move onto his life: is he not tired of politics? "Tired?" he says with a sad glint in his eyes. "I live for this and the Russian people need me. I always wanted to be a politician. I have power, a little anyway, and people need me. The rest are Kremlin candidates. I alone am for the people."

But people say you are approved by the Kremlin too? "Don't talk rubbish - you English are always trying to cause trouble. People will vote for me and if the elections were fair I would win. Why don't you write that?"

Mellowing, he downs the last vodka, smiles and tells me that not all the English are bad. "You have the Queen, we have Putin and Medvedev. But come with me on campaign and then we will really drink. Then you will see how the people want me as leader."

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5soFcuSrzwQ[/youtube]

This video is an eloquent comment on the Russian presidential election. It is a parody of a televised debate, in this case featuring two of the candidates, Communist leader Gennady Zyuganov and nationalist firebrand Vladimir Zhirinovsky. The spoof moderator says the debate is going out on air at 5:00 a.m. and when the camera cuts to the two debaters, they are both asleep. The moderator wakes them up, but when he asks them to talk about their policies they start reminiscing about 1996, the last time Russia had a hotly-contested presidential election. "Yes, those were the days," says the Zyuganov puppet. "And what do we have now?" With that, they get up and leave the studio.

The video is a bit of fun but in many ways it rings true.  This election really is short on excitement. Dmitry Medvedev, the first deputy prime minister President Vladimir Putin has anointed as his favoured successor, is overwhelming favourite to win on March 2. Opinion polls put Zyuganov and Zhirinovsky, his nearest rivals, nearly 50 percentage points behind him. Medvedev has declined to take part in televised debates, saying he could not fit them into his schedule of visits to the provinces. He has not been challenged in earnest on his manifesto. He has given no press conferences, only chats with groups of deferential provincial journalists. The only one-on-one interview he has given was paid for by his campaign.

So why is the election like this?  The Kremlin's critics say it is because the campaign is slanted in Medvedev's favour. They say he gets the lion's share of air-time on national television, and Mikhail Kasyanov, the opposition candidate who could have injected some edge into the election -- though he had no chance of winning -- was disqualified.

But there is another factor at play that no one should lose sight of. Russians, it seems, want Dmitry Medvedev to be their next president. It's not surprising really. Russia is enjoying the biggest economic boom in a generation. At weekends, the out-of-town hypermarkets that have sprung up under Putin's rule are groaning with people buying washing machines, dishwashers and stereo systems. Rightly or wrongly, many Russians associate their growing disposable income with Putin. He has said he is prepared to stay on as prime minister if Medvedev is elected president. So people calculate that if they vote for Medvedev, the good times will keep rolling.

There is little doubt the election is one-sided. Western governments and election observers could well conclude it is unfair. But that does not necessarily mean the result will not reflect what Russian voters want.