The Russia Conundrum

Before he became the CEO of Rosneft, Sechin worked for the KGB, notably in the late Cold War hot spots of Mozambique and Angola. As noted above, he consolidated his alliance with Putin during Putin’s time as deputy mayor of St Petersburg, becoming his devoted secretary and bagman, rarely leaving his master. Putin has kept Sechin close to him ever since, making him one of the most trusted representatives of the Siloviki clique. Despised and feared in equal measure, Sechin was instrumental in convincing Putin formally to renationalise firms, including Yukos, that had been privatised under Yeltsin, while in fact putting the whole of the oil and gas sector under the control of his own inner circle. Sechin was described by the former US ambassador, John Beyrle, in confidential cables released by Wikileaks, as the ‘grey cardinal’ of the Kremlin, ‘who has sought to break the power of the oligarchs, confiscate and amalgamate their assets into state companies under Siloviki control and to limit Western influence’. The damage he has inflicted on the Russian economy is incalculable.

Sechin is notoriously territorial, willing to go to great lengths to protect his position as Putin’s chief adviser. His anti-liberal convictions pitched him into conflict with Dmitry Medvedev, once regarded as the leader of a liberalising tendency in the Kremlin. In 2016, Sechin moved against his rival by entrapping Prime Minister Medvedev’s ally and minister of economic development, Alexey Ulyukaev, in a sting operation that led to the latter becoming the first serving minister to be arrested in Russia since the reign of Stalin. The move was a risky powerplay that could have backfired, but Sechin was secure in his position. The men he called upon to make the arrest were operatives from the Sixth Service of the FSB’s Internal Security Department, an elite unit that Sechin himself had created back in 2004 and knew he could count on. He had used them previously to carry out delicate operations, including the arrests of regional governors who refused to toe the Kremlin line. On 14 November 2016, Sechin invited Ulyukaev into his office and presented him with a suitcase that was later found to contain $2 million, as well as ordering a basket of sausages made from fresh game personally shot by himself to be loaded into Ulyukaev’s car. Unaware that Sechin was recording their encounter, Ulyukaev gratefully accepted the gifts, claiming later that he thought the suitcase was full of wine. All this ‘evidence’ would be used to charge him with corruption, backed by a sworn statement from Sechin that the money had been ‘extorted’ from him as a payment for Ulyukaev’s rubber stamping of a deal to transfer the Bashneft oil company to Rosneft.

At his trial, Ulyukaev denied all knowledge of the money and the recording produced by Sechin was remarkably unconvincing. Ulyukaev’s defence lawyers suggested that the prosecution was politically motivated, arising from a disagreement between the two men over the shady dealings of Rosneft. They summonsed Sechin to appear in person to be cross examined, but his office replied that he was too busy. When the court sentenced Ulyukaev to eight years in a strict regime labour camp, he compared the proceedings to the Stalinist show trials of the 1930s.

In all the Kremlin infighting, Putin has feigned the role of the ‘good tsar’, ostensibly holding the ring between his competing courtiers, while in reality he has played them off against each other. In the rivalry between Medvedev and Sechin, Putin has favoured the latter, possibly because of Medvedev’s performance during the time he served as stand-in president between 2008 and 2012. Putin had put him in the post merely to keep the seat warm for his own return to the job, but Medvedev let power go to his head, developing aspirations to hold on to the presidency, an uncalled-for show of ambition that angered Putin. As soon as the two resumed their proper offices in 2012, with Medvedev as prime minister, Putin responded by using Medvedev as a lightning rod against the people’s anger at falling living standards and making him take the blame for unpopular pension reforms. When Medvedev was confronted in 2016 by OAPs demanding pension increases, he made a run for it, muttering, ‘There simply isn’t any money at the moment … Hang on in there, all of you. I wish you all the best and hope you have a nice day…’ His vanishing act inspired a rush of comic songs and sketches viewed by millions on social media.