At this point, I don’t really care that Boris Yeltsin’s reign as the first democratically elected President of Russia came to a sad, sticky end.
In the light of the authoritarian, police-state Russia has become, I’ve decided to mourn a man of passion. A man who stood up for his nation, and led it — however briefly — into the bright light of a new and exciting democracy.
It was short, but so very sweet…it lived hard, and died fast…much like Yeltsin himself. But during his turbulent, wild-ride of a presidency, there was, at all times, the sense of something new and exciting. Of much hope & opportunity…and a future far removed from the fatalism that seems to be the hallmark of Russian history since Ivan the Terrible.
But it’s gone now — Putin has made sure of it. Russia slowly slides back into being a nation of people carrying papers, and KGB agents around every corner. A nation of cowering, frightened people, unable to express themselves for fear of reprisal…or death. Where life expectancy continues to decrease, and society continues to crumble…
If Russia needs anyone at the moment, it needs someone like the Boris Yeltsin of 1991. The man who stood up to the tanks…the man who stood up to the men who could look only to the past…and forced them into the harsh, cleansing light of the future.
But such a man no longer exists…not in Russia. I’m surprised the government has agreed to honour him with an official day of mourning, as he stood against everything today’s Russia exemplifies.
Shed no tears of sadness for Mr. Yeltsin. Shed them for the Russia that could have been…
