I wish I had enough space to reprint in its entirety Mikhail B. Khodorkovsky’s closing statement, as his latest sham trial in Russia came to an end earlier this week. I have never been so moved by the words of a businessman.
Stripped of his company, which was sold off to politically connected insiders, Mikhail Khodorkovsky was convicted of trumped-up tax charges brought by prosecutors acting on behalf of Vladimir V. Putin, who had come to view Mr. Khodorkovsky as a threat.
Statement from Mikhail Khodorkovsky
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Mikhail Khodorkovsky in his glass cage in court in Moscow.
Not that Mr. Khodorkovsky is a businessman anymore. Once the most famous of the Russian oligarchs, he ran Yukos Oil, which under his leadership became the best-run, fastest-growing, most transparent company in the country — a gleaming symbol of hope for Russian industry. Mr. Khodorkovsky, however, has spent the last seven years in prison, much of that time in Siberia. Stripped of his company, which was sold off to politically connected insiders, Mr. Khodorkovsky and his business partner, Platon Lebedev, were convicted of trumped-up tax charges brought by prosecutors acting on behalf of Vladimir V. Putin, who had come to view Mr. Khodorkovsky as a threat.
Then, in 2007, with the prospect of parole on the horizon, the same prosecutors — with what appears to be the complicity of PricewaterhouseCoopers, Yukos’s longtime accounting firm — indicted the two men again, bringing a new round of Kafkaesque charges.
That trial ended on Tuesday. The verdict will most likely be announced in December, not that anyone doubts the outcome. Nor can anyone doubt Mr. Khodorkovsky’s status in Russia. He has become in the Putin era what Andrei Sakharov once was, a courageous dissident standing up to an authoritarian regime, a living, breathing rebuke to the absence of the rule of law.
With the courtroom packed with supporters, Mr. Khodorkovsky stood up in the glass cage that has kept him imprisoned even during the trial. He talked for about 15 minutes, barely mentioning the charges against him. Instead, he spoke profoundly about what his case meant for his country.
“What must be going through the minds of the entrepreneur, or the senior manager, or simply an ordinary educated, creative person, watching our trial, and knowing that its result is absolutely predictable?” he asked. “The obvious conclusion is chilling in its stark simplicity: it is that the siloviki can do anything,” he added, using the Russian slang for the powerful bureaucrats in Mr. Putin’s circle.
“Millions of eyes throughout Russia and the world are watching this trial,” he said. “They are watching with the hope that Russia will still become a country of freedom, and law is above the bureaucrat. Where supporting opposition parties is not a cause for reprisals. Where special services protect the people and the law, and not the bureaucracy from the people and the law. Where human rights no longer depend on the mood of the czar, good or evil.”
“I am not a perfect person, but I am a person with an idea,” he added. “For me, as for anybody, it is hard to live in jail, and I do not want to die there. But if I have to, I will. The things I believe in are worth dying for.”
“Your Honor!” he said, looking directly at the judge. “Much more than our two fates are in your hands. Here and now the fate of every citizen of our country is being decided.”
When he finished, the courtroom erupted. As the crowd yelled “Freedom,” the judge banged his gavel and declared the trial over. At which point, Russia’s most prominent political prisoner was handcuffed and led back to his jail cell.
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There are tragedies within tragedies in the story of Mikhail Khodorkovsky. There is the personal tragedy, of course, of a man tried and convicted of crimes he never committed. There is the tragedy of the Russian political system, once on the verge of real democracy, now little more than an enrichment scheme for Kremlin officials, a mind-set that accelerated once Mr. Khodorkovsky was disposed of.
There is also the tragedy of Russian business. Did Mr. Khodorkovsky do his share of unseemly deals in becoming an oligarch? Almost surely; all the oligarchs did during the early 1990s, an era in Russia now called the Wild, Wild East. But by the late 1990s he had become determined to turn Yukos into a model company, one that would help lead the way toward a new entrepreneurial spirit in Russia.
“He was the most visionary of all the Russian oligarchs,” said William Browder, who runs the Hermitage Fund, and was once the largest portfolio manager in Russia. “He understood that the way to get the best valuation was to run the most transparent company.”
To that end, he brought in Western board members who understood the principles of good corporate governance. He hired foreigners to critical executive positions, unheard of in Russia. A big reason that Russian companies had low valuations was that investors simply didn’t believe their stated numbers — and had no idea how much of the company’s cash flow was diverted for graft. Mr. Khodorkovsky changed that perception at Yukos by working hand in glove with the company’s accountants in the Russian office of PricewaterhouseCoopers, who created an accounting structure that allowed Yukos to report earnings that met Western accounting standards, while satisfying the Russian tax authorities, no mean feat.
According to Bruce Misamore, an American who spent several years as the chief financial officer at Yukos, when Mr. Khodorkovsky was arrested in October 2003, he was in the process of selling a stake of the company to either Exxon Mobil or Chevron, both of which were eager to make an investment. He was also preparing to list Yukos on the New York Stock Exchange. He was worth a reported $15 billion.
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