But does not agree with him.
Vladimir Putin met with the participants and organisers at charitable literary-musical evening "The Little Prince" on Saturday. In the opinion of our special correspondent Andrei Kolesnikov, Yury Shevchuk stole the thunder from Vladimir Putin by asking him a lot of uncomfortable questions. One had the impression, though, that the prime minister wanted to hear these questions.
The prime minister met the artists and intellectuals engaged in the concert at the Mikhailovsky Theatre in St Petersburg. At the entrance, an exhibition of children's drawings had been laid out for the benefit of the prime minister or for the children. It was a sunny day so uncharacteristic of St Petersburg and one couldn't help wondering whether the sky above the exhibition was so blue because the clouds had been dispersed artificially – out of concern for the kids, of course.
Even if that were true, it was not in vain because the children (including many cancer patients, wearing protective masks, a harrowing sight for a grown-up) preferred to depict the blue sky in their drawings. The drawings seemed to be filled with wind and the more air there was in every drawing the more they conveyed an eerie sense of un-childlike solitude.
Vladimir Putin paused in front of the drawings, looked around him in a somewhat confused way, asked two or three questions of the children and went inside.
The theatre troupe that was to give a charitable concert – singers and professional actors – was waiting for him. The prime minister spent a lot more time talking to them than to the children – more than an hour. It had been a long time since he had last met with members of the creative intelligentsia in such a format. On the previous occasion he met with writers who later received a lot of flack from bloggers for committing the crime of talking with the authorities (the bloggers themselves had not been invited). Some writers seemed embarrassed by the criticism.
The most interesting character this time around was undoubtedly Yury Shevchuk who, addressing the audience before a recent concert at Olimpiisky Complex, lashed out at the authorities for totalitarianism, a lack of soul and love for the common man. He did not refer to anyone by name, because there was no need to. And now the man who symbolized freedom was meeting the man who was choking freedom.
For starters the prime minister said that "a large centre for children suffering from blood and cancer diseases" was being built in Moscow. He said that in 2005 he had received a letter from a boy, Dima Rogachev, who invited him for a pancake party. The boy was terminally ill.
"Unfortunately, Dima has died," the prime minister said, "but in fact it was he who gave us a push to build the hospital... It occurred to me just now that it would be a good idea to name the centre after Dima Rogachev."
The proposal indeed came as a surprise.
"We should talk to the doctors," said Chulpan Khamatova, one of the leaders of the Give Life Fund.
"Anyway, he was the initiator," the prime minister shrugged, "the spark for the idea... not that he actually asked us to build the centre..."
Actor Leonid Yermolnik said it was a very good idea...
"This is unprecedented. Such centres have never been named after children before."
"The doctors must have the final say." Chulpan Khamatova insisted without explaining why it was up to the doctors to decide and why they might object.
As I looked at glum-faced Yury Shevchuk who seemed oblivious to the conversation. I realised that if the exchange of opinions on the name of oncology center lasted a few more minutes it would make talk about free speech irrelevant. Chulpan Khamatova, in the meantime, asked Vladimir Putin to solve the problem of orphan drugs which are imported from abroad and cost a lot of money because they are not in mass production. The Fund's workers have to go to airports and ask strangers to take the drugs and carry them across the border. People agree on the spur of the moment, but then are seized by panic and fear and dump them before they leave the airport terminal. It turns out that Russia does not have a list of rare diseases and rare drugs, hence the problems with importing drugs and the lack of production. The prime minister promised to look into the matter.
The second request was to exempt the assistance children get from taxes: when children get financial assistance from the Give Life Fund the first time, that assistance is not taxed, but if, for example, a child needs a second operation and the Fund again pays for it, that money is taxed. It often takes a year for the tax notification to reach the child's parents.
"Sometimes, Chulpan Khamatova added, the Fund helps bury the children who die and the bereaved parents later receive a bill."
"Oh, isn't it horrible," actress Liya Akhedzhakova exclaimed.
"We should make amendments to the tax code to make sure that assistance during the course of treatment is tax exempt", the prime minister said.
Just as I was beginning to think that Yury Shevchuk had missed his chance of diverting the conversation from this painful subject, he chimed in:
"May I, Vladimir Vladimirovich?"
"Yes," the prime minister nodded. "I have some questions... Honestly they have been bothering me for some time... The first is freedom. Freedom of the press, freedom of information because what we see in this country... it is a country of social estates with a thousand-year-old history. We have princes and boyars driving cars with blue flashing lights, and then we have all the rest. There is a huge gap between them. You know all that."
He looked doubtfully at the prime minister as if he was not really sure whether he did know. But the prime minister's poker face was inscrutable.
"On the other hand, Yury Shevchuk went on, the only way out is for everyone to be equal before the law: from the boyar to the ordinary people. Miners should not descend into coal mines like fighters on suicide missions. Everything should be human so that the individual in this country feels free and dignified... I see and I am not alone to see it – the intelligentsia, the eggheads, so to speak – we see a great deal".
The prime minister was listening very attentively as if he were hearing all this for the first time. Perhaps he was hearing it for the first time.
"What we see is the poster, the external manifestations..." continued Yury Shevchuk who, when asked by the prime minister to name himself said "Yury Shevchuk, musician." He was obviously very nervous. "The attempt to build up patriotism and conscience in the nation by anthems and marches and so on... we have been there before. Only a civil society and the equality of everyone before the law – absolutely everyone – you and me – then things can start moving forward."
The prime minister nodded for the first time. He probably shouldn't have nodded because Yury Shevchuk felt encouraged:
"But first we need a free press because it doesn't exist today. There are one and a half newspapers and half of a TV channel. In reality what we see on "the box" is not even polemics. It is the same as the marches and anthems. In reality the protesting electorate in the country is growing, you know it yourself. There are many disgruntled people. Do you think, are you planning a real honest liberalisation and democratisation of this country? So that NGOs are not strangled, so that we stop being afraid of the cop in the street? Because today the police serve only their bosses and their purses, not the people."
The prime minister nodded no more. He was silent and his silence was anything but a sign of agreement. "Let me end with this question: there will be a March of Those Who Disagree in St Peterburg on May 31. Will it be dispersed? That's all," Yury Shevchuk exhaled.
"Is that all?" the prime minister sounded mistrustful.
"For the time being," the musician confirmed. He had played all his notes as planned.
"First of all," Vladimir Putin said, "I would like to say that this country will have no future without normal democratic development."
"Of course," Yury Shevchuk responded cheerfully.
"That is an obvious fact because a person can only fulfill himself in a free society. The second thesis: everybody must proceed within the law, you are absolutely right."
Yury Shevchuk liked that last remark rather less because it sounded somehow different coming from the prime minister's mouth.
"From that moment on," the prime minister continued, "we move into territory that requires a professional approach. You have mentioned miners. Why are these things happening? I am told that one of the reasons is that the fixed part of the wages at some mines, such as Raspadskaya, is 45-46% and the rest is paid as bonuses. For the sake of bonuses people sometimes neglect safety rules."
"Yes, I am aware of that," Yury Shevchuk agreed, although I had a feeling that the prime minister no longer needed his agreement.
"I have made the decision and issued instructions so that the fixed part of the wage be at least 70%, Vladimir Putin added. But, Yury, I would like to tell you that this applies to coking coal. There is also energy coal where profitability is much lower. All this is included in the tariff, it is a constant. If we increase it mindlessly, we may face a situation when all the mines that produce energy coal will simply have to be shut down because they will be unprofitable."
Yury Shevchuk wilted before my eyes. He was listening to the prime minister attentively, but I don't think he quite followed what he was saying. Still he was making an honest effort to understand. Ilya Lagutenko, by contrast, was fast losing the taste for life. The prime minister's tactic was clear: to dismiss the rock musician's thesis by an in-depth professional analysis. The prime minister had no problems with that: Yury Shevchuk was not equipped to carry on the conversation at such a level.
"In a market economy they will simply shut down. And I understand that you are in favour of a market economy and not an economy by fiat. They will be shut down. And that is only one aspect..."
Luckily, the prime minister chose not to pass on to the second aspect either out of sympathy for Yury Shevchuk or out of a love for music.
"Now, you say that the police serve only their bosses. There are all sorts of people serving with the police. They are a cross-section of our society. Yes, they are part of the country and they are not aliens from Mars. There are some people who honestly serve their people... They do not think about their own lives and are willing to face bullets. Some traffic cops take bribes from drivers on the road... some of them do... But there are others who cover children with their bodies and put their cars in a criminals' path and die. So I think it is unfair to tar all of them with the same brush."
"I am not doing that," Yury Shevchuk objected.
"You are not tarring them with the same brush, but you did say that the cops served their bosses and not the people."
"For the most part, yes. I will take part in the March of Those Who Disagree. There are 500 of us, and there will be 2500 OMON cops. Have we killed or stabbed anyone to death?"
He went on talking, but the prime minister was talking too.
"I listened to you attentively and I did not interrupt you. If not we'll have a circus instead of a discussion," the prime minister had no intention of yielding to the musician and the musician did not want to yield to the prime minister.
"Regarding the March of Those Who Disagree," Vladimir Putin said.
"Yes," Yury Shevchuk exclaimed.
"There are certain rules and such events are regulated by the local authorities. In addition to the people who stage marches of those who agree or disagree there are other people whose rights we should respect... If you decide to hold a March of Those Who Disagree, I am sorry if I sound rude, in front of a hospital where you will disturb sick children, what local authority would permit you to hold such a march there? And they would be right in forbidding it."
"Can I respond to that?" Yury Shevchuk asked.
"No," snapped the prime minister. "And if you hold your march in a place where people drive to their dachas on Friday or return from their dachas on Sunday evening. They'll give you an earful I am sure. And the local authorities too..."
The prime minister did not intend to yield an inch of territory to the musician.
"Actually I want you to understand," the prime minister went on. "It does not bother me, and I am sure other government leaders, on the contrary, it helps us".
"Yes, of course."
"If I see that people have come out not just to make noise and get publicity but they say something reasonable and concrete and point to specific problems which the authorities must pay attention to – what's wrong with that?"
"Yes," Yury Shevchuk exclaimed.
"And this is how I feel about it," Vladimir Putin exclaimed.
"But you know that the local authorities immediately fill the squares with some kind of merry-go-rounds on that day. There is a lot of hypocrisy there."
"I agree with you there."
"You have great weight..."
"76 kilograms," the prime minister said, casting his eyes down.
At least Yury Shevchuk had his say.
Vladimir Putin did not say a word about free speech, but I am sure that it was not intentional because he has long had a ready answer to that question and had sounded off on the issue many times: the country has so many newspapers and magazines that you can't control them. And there is also the internet...
The conversation drifted to the skyscraper Gazprom was building, with Oleg Basilashvili protesting most vehemently against the plan. The prime minister, though he was careful not to commit himself, seemed to be in favour. ("Let's look what they have in London, let's look at what they have in Paris. They built the Pompidou Centre, and what's in the middle of the Louvre? They have them everywhere in the world...")
Finally Diana Arbenina had her turn. She too had problems she wanted to share with Vladimir Putin. She had given birth to twins four months earlier and the main problem in her life now is that they don't allow her to board a plane (and she is a frequent flier) with a bottle of her own breast milk.
Diana Arbenina, encouraged by the fact that many of those present in the room had made a case for changing Russian law, decided to have a go at it herself.
"I don't want to have to produce a document every time to prove that milk is a vital liquid for babies. It's so absurd, it reminds me of Bulgakov's stories. I would very much like to see a provision in the law to this effect. Because each time I arrive on a tour I go to an airport expecting the worst. I never know whether they will allow me to board the plane.
"You should milk your breasts in front of them," Marina Neyolova suggested.
"Thank you very much for the tip," Diana Arbenina snapped back. It won't help, I have two babies."
"In general it's a great idea," Marina Neyolova pursued the subject.
"To begin with, it is beautiful," Leonid Yermolnik chimed in. However, not everyone was so sure.
"Yes, it's like in that joke," said Emmanuil Vitorgan.
But he had no chance to tell the joke, as the prime minister was already explaining that these were necessary precautions because of the fight against terror.
"But couldn't they check whether it is milk or something else?" Diana Arbenina asked in despair.
"But you won't let them taste it," the prime minister replied, also with despair.
"At that point Yury Shevchuk again popped up:
"I suggest that we all have a drink and get down to business (it was time for the concert to begin – A.K.). May I give a toast? I would like, on behalf of our children ... what country will they live in – dark, corrupt, totalitarian, authoritarian, with one party, one anthem, one thought..."
"The anthem should be one," the prime minister said thoughtfully.
"... or a bright democratic country where everybody is equal before the law," Yury Shevchuk went on relentlessly. "That is all that is needed. Unfortunately we do not have it in this country. I would like our children to live in this country and to be healthy in this country. This is my toast."
Vladimir Putin sighed and drank up. Somebody said in confusion:
"But this is water. You don't drink water for a toast."
"The drink fits the toast." The prime minister sighed again.
"May I go and prepare for my act?" Chulpan Khamatova asked.
"All of you?" the prime minister asked.
"Yes," somebody said. "Would you like to rehearse your lines, ladies and gentlemen?"
Yury Shevchuk was the first to refuse. He had had his say.
Andrei Kolesnikov