October 1993 was immediately called "black". The confrontation between the Supreme Soviet and the president and the government ended with the shooting of the "White House" from tank cannons - it looks like the whole autumn of that time was black. In the center of Moscow, not far from the Krasnopresnenskaya metro station, an informal, or rather just a people's memorial zone has been preserved for many years. There are stands next to them with newspaper clippings that have turned yellow from time to time and strings of photographs with a black border attached to the fence of the square. From them, mostly young and hopeful faces look at passers-by.
Right there, near the fence - fragments of barricades, red flags and banners, bouquets of flowers. This modest memorial arose spontaneously that same terrible autumn, without the permission of the city authorities and to their obvious displeasure. And although all these years from time to time there are conversations about the upcoming clean-up and "improvement" of the territory, obviously, even the most indifferent officials do not raise a hand to this. Because this memorial is the only island in Russia in memory of the national tragedy that unfolded here in late September - early October 1993.
At the center of events
It seems that this old district of Moscow called Presnya is destined to become the arena of dramatic events. In December 1905, there was the seat of an armed uprising against the tsarist government, which was brutally suppressed by the troops. The battles in Presnya became a prelude to the Russian revolution of 1917, and the victorious communist authorities captured the echoes of those events in the names of the surrounding streets and monuments dedicated to the rebels.
Years passed, and the once factory district began to be built up with buildings intended for various institutions and departments. At the end of the 70s of the last century, a pompous building arose on Krasnopresnenskaya embankment, intended for the Council of Ministers of the RSFSR. But, despite the respectable appearance, the rebellious spirit, it seems, had deeply saturated the Presnensk soil and was waiting in the wings.
The Russian Federation, despite its system-forming role, was the most powerless component of the Soviet Union. Unlike other union republics, it did not have its own political leadership, all the attributes of statehood were purely declarative, and the Russian "government" was a purely technical body. It is not surprising that the "White House", so called because of the color of the marble-tiled facades, was on the periphery of the country's political life for many years.
The situation changed when in 1990 the Supreme Soviet of the RSFSR settled on Krasnopresnenskaya embankment. The restructuring of Mikhail Gorbachev reached its climax, the union center was weakening and the republics were conquering more and more powers. At the forefront of the struggle for independence was the Russian parliament, headed by Boris Yeltsin. Thus, the "White House", once a quiet refuge of disgraced officials, found itself in the epicenter of turbulent events.
Yeltsin won incredible popularity as an implacable antagonist of Gorbachev, who by that time seemed to have tired of the whole country with his idle chatter and his rare ability to aggravate old problems and generate new ones. The republics more and more insistently demanded a redistribution of power in their favor. As a compromise, Gorbachev proposed concluding a new Union Treaty that would reflect the current political reality. The document was ready for signing when events took an unexpected turn. On August 19, 1991, it became known about the creation of the State Emergency Committee - a kind of collegial body of high officials under the leadership of the Vice-President of the USSR Gennady Yanayev. GKChP removed Gorbachev from power under the pretext of his illness, introduced a state of emergency in the country, allegedly necessary to combat the anarchy that gripped the country.
The "White House" became the stronghold of the confrontation with the GKChP. Thousands of townspeople began to gather here to support and protect Russian deputies and Yeltsin. Three days later, with no broad public support, no coherent program of action, no authority to implement them, no single leader, the State Emergency Committee actually liquidated itself.
The "victory of democracy" over the "reactionary" putsch was the blow that buried the Soviet Union. The former republics have now become independent states. President of the new Russia Boris Yeltsin issued carte blanche to the government led by economist Yegor Gaidar to carry out radical reforms. But the reforms did not work out right away. Their only positive result was the disappearance of the commodity deficit, which, however, was a predictable consequence of the rejection of state regulation of prices. The monstrous inflation devalued the bank deposits of citizens and put them on the brink of survival; against the backdrop of a rapidly impoverished population, the wealth of the nouveau riche stood out. Many enterprises were closed, others, barely staying afloat, suffered from a crisis of non-payments, and their workers from wage arrears. Private business found itself under the control of criminal groups, which, in terms of their influence, successfully competed with the official government, and sometimes replaced it. The bureaucratic corps was struck by total corruption. In foreign policy, Russia, having formally become an independent state, turned out to be a vassal of the United States, blindly following in the wake of the Washington course. The long-awaited "democracy" turned into the fact that the most important government decisions were made in a narrow circle, consisting of random people and outright crooks.
Many deputies who recently strongly supported Yeltsin were discouraged by what was happening, and voters, outraged by the consequences of Gaidar's "shock therapy", also influenced them. Since the beginning of 1992, the executive and legislative branches of government have increasingly moved away from each other. And not only in the political sense. The president moved to the Moscow Kremlin, the government moved to the back complex of the former CPSU Central Committee on Staraya Square, and the Supreme Soviet remained in the White House. So the building on Krasnopresnenskaya embankment from Yeltsin's stronghold became a stronghold of opposition to Yeltsin.
Meanwhile, the confrontation between the parliament and the executive branch was growing. Former closest associates of the president, the speaker of the Supreme Soviet Ruslan Khasbulatov and vice president Alexander Rutskoy, have become his worst enemies. Opponents exchanged mutual reproaches and accusations, as well as conflicting decisions and decrees. At the same time, one side insisted that the deputy corps was hindering market reforms, while the other accused the presidential team of ruining the country.
In August 1993, Yeltsin promised the rebellious Supreme Soviet a "hot autumn." This was followed by a demonstrative visit by the president to the Dzerzhinsky division of the internal troops - a unit designed to suppress riots. However, over a year and a half of confrontation, society has become accustomed to war of words and symbolic gestures of opponents. But this time, words were followed by deeds. On September 21, Yeltsin signed decree No. 1400 on a phased constitutional reform, according to which the parliament was to cease its activities.
In accordance with the then Constitution of 1978, the president did not have such powers, which was confirmed by the Constitutional Court of the Russian Federation, which recognized the decree of September 21 as illegal. In turn, the Supreme Soviet decided to impeach President Yeltsin, whose actions Ruslan Khasbulatov called a "coup d'etat." The deputies appointed Alexander Rutskoi as the acting president of the Russian Federation. The prospect of dual power loomed before Russia. Now Yeltsin's opponents are reaching out to the White House. Again, for the third time in the 20th century, barricades began to be erected on Presnya …
Parliament: chronicle of the blockade
The author of these lines in those years lived a few hundred meters from the building of the Russian parliament and was an eyewitness and participant in the events that took place. What, in addition to the political background, were the two defenses of the "White House" different?
In 1991, his defenders were rallied by hope, faith in tomorrow and the desire to protect this wonderful future. It soon became obvious that the then ideas of Yeltsin's supporters about democracy and a market economy were utopian, but it is hardly wisdom to scoff at past romantic illusions, let alone renounce them.
Those who came to the Presnensk barricades in 1993 no longer had faith in a bright tomorrow. This generation was twice cruelly deceived - first by Gorbachev's perestroika, then by Yeltsin's reforms. In 93, the people at the White House were united by the present day and the feeling that dominated here and now. It was not fear of poverty or rampant crime, this feeling was humiliation. It was humiliating to live in Yeltsin's Russia. And the worst thing is that there was not a single hint that the situation could change in the future. To correct mistakes, one must admit them, or at least notice them. But the authorities smugly asserted that they were right everywhere, that reforms require sacrifices, and the market economy would put everything in its place by itself.
In 1991, for the defenders of the "White House", Yeltsin and the "democratic" deputies were true idols, the putschists from the State Emergency Committee were treated with contempt and ridicule - they were so pitiful that they did not evoke strong feelings. Those who came to parliament in 1993 did not feel reverence for Khasbulatov, Rutskoi and other leaders of the opposition, but all as one hated Yeltsin and his entourage. They came to defend the Supreme Soviet not because they were impressed by its activities, but because, by chance, the parliament turned out to be the only obstacle on the path of degradation of the state.
The most important difference is that in August 1991 three people died, and their death was a coincidence of ridiculous circumstances. In 93, the number of victims went to hundreds, people were destroyed deliberately and in cold blood. And if August 1991 can hardly be called a farce, then the bloody autumn of 1993 undoubtedly became a national tragedy.
Yeltsin read out his decree on television late on the evening of September 21. The next day, indignant Muscovites began to gather at the walls of the White House. At first, their number did not exceed a couple of hundred. The protester contingent consisted mainly of elderly communist rallies and city madmen. I remember one grandmother who took a liking to a hillock warmed by the autumn sun and from time to time shouted out loudly "Peace to your house, Soviet Union!"
But already on September 24, the situation began to change dramatically: the number of parliamentary supporters began to number in the thousands, their composition became sharply younger and, so to speak, “demarginalized”. A week later, the crowd outside the White House was no different from the crowd in August 1991, either demographically or socially. According to my feelings, at least half of those gathered in front of the parliament in the fall of 1993 were "veterans" of the confrontation with the Emergency Committee. This refutes the thesis that the "Khasbulatov" Supreme Soviet was defended by embittered losers who did not fit into the market economy and who dreamed of restoring the Soviet system. No, there were enough successful people here: private entrepreneurs, students of prestigious institutions, bank employees. But material well-being was unable to drown out feelings of protest and shame for what was happening to the country.
There were also many provocateurs. First of all, in this series, alas, it is worth noting the leader of the Russian National Unity Alexander Barkashov. The ruling regime actively used “fascists” from RNU to discredit the patriotic movement. Armed fellows with "swastikas" on camouflage were willingly shown on TV channels, as an example of the black forces behind the Supreme Council. But when it came to the assault on the White House, it turned out that Barkashov had taken most of his people out of there. Today, the place of the leader of the RNU has been taken by new full-time "patriots" like Dmitry Demushkin. This gentleman was at one time the right hand of Barkashov, so personally I have no doubt at what address this figure receives instructions and assistance.
But back in the fall of 93. By September 24, the people's deputies were actually blocked in the "White House", where telephone communications, electricity, and water supply were cut off. The building was cordoned off by police and military personnel. But for the time being, the cordon was symbolic: crowds of people passed through the huge gaps to the besieged parliament without hindrance. These daily "raids" to the "White House" and back were aimed not only at demonstrating solidarity with the Supreme Soviet, but also at obtaining first-hand information about what was happening, because the physical blockade was supplemented by the media blockade. Television and the press broadcast exclusively the official version of events, usually incomplete and invariably false.
Finally, by September 27, the blockade took on a solid form: the "White House" was surrounded by a continuous triple ring, neither journalists, nor parliamentarians, nor ambulance doctors were allowed to the building. Now it’s not so much to go to the Supreme Soviet - it was a problem to get home: Muscovites living in the vicinity, including the author of these lines, were allowed through only upon presentation of a passport with a residence permit. Militiamen and soldiers were on duty around the clock in all nearby courtyards and side streets.
True, there have been exceptions. Once, it seems, it was September 30, late in the evening I decided to try my luck and go to the "White House". But in vain: all the passages were blocked. Imagine my surprise when I saw Viktor Anpilov, peacefully talking with a group of people like me, unsuccessfully trying to get to the building of the Armed Forces. Having finished the conversation, he confidently went straight to the police cordon, apparently not doubting that they would let him through. Not otherwise, as the leader of "Labor Russia" had a pass - "all-terrain vehicle" …
