Kursk Disaster Provides Russians, Leaders With a Lesson in Democracy

MOSCOW--If Russia’s military command has learned nothing else from the Kursk disaster, it has learned this: Secrecy backfires.

And if President Vladimir V. Putin and Russia’s political leadership have learned nothing else, they have learned this: Appearances matter.

Perhaps the most surprising aspect of the ongoing drama over the fate of the 118 crew members trapped aboard the sunken nuclear submarine is

requesting foreign assistance or the failure of the president to take charge of the situation--or even to end his vacation.

The most remarkable aspect, rather, may be that the Russian people became enraged and demanded a better performance and higher accountability. And they got them.

“It’s bad that the instinct [for secrecy] took so long to suppress,” said Vladimir P. Lukin, deputy chairman of the lower house of parliament. “But it’s good that it was overcome at all.”

In many ways, the Kursk submarine disaster has been an object lesson in democracy for this country and its leadership.

Consider how different the situation was during the country’s last nuclear disaster--the 1986 explosion of the Chernobyl power plant in what is now the independent state of Ukraine. Even though the policy of glasnost, or “openness,” was already underway, Soviet leaders kept silent about the accident for three days, until they were forced to respond to an outcry from the West.

This time, the outcry came from within. It was the main topic of conversation from kitchens to taxicabs to bus stops.

“What a disgrace!” fumed Vladimir Starodubtsov, a 48-year-old mechanic. “They wasted days with their rescue capsules, and only then did they ask for help. They should have used all available means simultaneously from the very start. I just can’t explain why they acted this way. I’d like to call the military leadership myself and ask them.”

Even former Soviet President Mikhail S. Gorbachev, the leader who tried to keep Chernobyl under wraps, joined the chorus.

Putin “should have gone to the scene and launched the [rescue] operation and made the decision whether or not to permit the participation of our foreign partners,” Gorbachev said in a radio interview. “Knowing him as a decisive and insightful person, I can only think he was either misled or he miscalculated.”

It remained unclear Saturday why the military took so long to acknowledge the submarine accident, which occurred a week earlier but went unreported until Monday. Even then naval spokesmen used strange euphemisms: Instead of saying it had sunk, the press service said only that “malfunctions occurred on the ship, as a result of which the submarine had to lie down on the ground.”

Moreover, officials repeatedly provided incorrect or misleading information. First they said the accident occurred Sunday; then they were forced to acknowledge that it took place a day earlier. They said they were communicating with the crew; they later had to acknowledge that the communication consisted only of knocking sounds. They said they had established an air channel to the disabled sub; it turned out that their diving vessels couldn’t even get close enough to dock.

Such euphemisms and half-truths only ensured that, when the full truth came out, public indignation would be greater. And it was.

“The lies about the Kursk tragedy are drowning the reputation of the military,” wrote the normally staid daily Izvestia. “These information games are becoming deadly. That is, for the crew of the Kursk.”

“ ‘Necessary’ lies have brought us to tragedy,” said another daily, Nezavisimaya Gazeta. “It seems the military and political leadership are making a farce of the rescue of the sunken sub.”

In a phone-in poll conducted by a Moscow radio station, 75% of callers said they did not believe that the military and political leadership were doing everything possible to save the crew.

Putin has not escaped the blast of public anger. He kept silent about the accident for five days, remaining on vacation in the southern Russian resort of Sochi. Perhaps, as he claimed later, he did not want to interfere in the rescue operation. But many Russians saw it differently.

“I don’t think it was political naivete,” said Lika Ionova, a doctor working in a central Moscow health club. “I think he just didn’t want to take responsibility.”

By the end of the week, it was clear that the criticism had hit home. The military was holding media briefings. Admirals were giving TV interviews describing the damage in excruciating technical detail. Naval officials were letting a TV crew film the rescue attempts. Putin was back in the Kremlin and was preparing to travel to the scene.

All of that, however unprecedented for Russia, is a long way from the levels of openness and accountability common in most Western democracies. It will probably take months--if not longer--to learn the truth of what the navy knew when and to judge whether officials really did everything possible to save the crew.

And it will probably also take Putin a while to learn what he did wrong. His instincts still appear to be more like those of a Soviet official following procedure than a Western-style president demonstrating leadership. In comments Friday, he acknowledged that his first question about the accident was whether there was radiation leakage, his second was about the condition of the submarine and only his third was about the fate of the crew.

Still, if there is a silver lining to the Kursk tragedy, it may be that however imperfectly and however painfully, it presented the country and its leadership the chance to learn at least a few lessons in democracy.