On the twenty-second day of August, the city of Moscow played host to the second stage of the XXIII Congress of 'United Russia'. The primary fruit of this assembly was the ratification of a new 'People's Programme', the banner under which the party intends to march toward the elections for the State Duma. The party leadership hath proclaimed that this document is founded upon nearly three and a half million suggestions gathered from citizens across the breadth of the land.

'Tis a figure that soundeth most impressive indeed. Three and a half million petitions—nearly one in every fortieth resident of Russia. Thus, a most legitimate question ariseth: of what, precisely, did these souls pray?

Should one cast a discerning eye upon the public presentation of this programme, one findeth the same customary phrases dominating the discourse: the erection of schools, the paving of roads, the founding of nurseries, and the embellishment of urban environments and housing infrastructure. These matters are, without doubt, of great import. Yet, 'tis precisely here that the chief political sleight-of-hand commenceth.

The State and the Party are Not One and the Same

In the political theatre of our land, there hath long existed a convenient artifice: the achievements of the State are automatically transmuted into the triumphs of the ruling party.

Is a school erected by means of the federal and regional exchequer? 'Tis hailed as a party success. Is a road repaired under a national project? A party success. Is a nursery raised with the coin of the taxpayers? Once more, a party success.

Yet, the budget is not fashioned by party committees. It is filled by the toil of millions of citizens, by enterprises, by merchants, and by laborers of every guild and industry. State programmes are funded by the general taxes of the realm, not from the party's own coffers.

Therefore, we must ask a question of principle: where doth the result of the State's labor cease, and the actual result of the political party begin?

When a party beginneth to claim as its own every stone laid at the public expense, a gross confusion of terms occurreth. The State becometh the chattel of a political organization, and budgetary expenditures are reduced to mere elements of electioneering.

The Common Man Careth Not for Abstract Schools

There existeth a problem of even greater gravity.

The architects of the People's Programme assert that the document was penned upon the basis of millions of citizen suggestions. But let us attempt to imagine the ordinary man.

Would a pensioner truly pen a missive requesting the 'development of a comfortable urban environment'? He would not. He is haunted by whether his pension shall suffice for his medicines, his bread, and the payment of his hearth-taxes.

Do teachers and physicians pray for the 'improvement of personnel policy'? Their concerns lie elsewhere: why is it that for the same labor, a man in Moscow receiveth a wage so vastly different from one in Kurgan? Why are federal standards uniform, while the pay dependeth upon the fortunes of a specific province?

A tiller of the soil is vexed by the cost of diesel fuel, the availability of machinery, credit, and fertilizers. A young couple is concerned not with the total number of square yards constructed, but with the possibility of purchasing a cottage without becoming a mortgage-slave for a quarter of a century.

People speak always of the concrete circumstances of their existence. For reasons unknown, political documents answer them solely in generalities.

The Mortgage is No Social Triumph

The matter of housing construction is particularly telling.

Almost every electoral programme of recent years boasteth of record volumes of housing. Millions of square yards are indeed being built. The statistics appear most handsome upon the page.

But the social reality is of a different hue.

Behind these square yards stand families who sign mortgage deeds for twenty or thirty years. A significant portion of their income is surrendered to the banks. After the mandatory payment, there remaineth less and less for the education of children, for respite, for health, and for the necessities of daily life.

'Tis a strange paradox. The State stimulateth construction, the banks receive a perennial stream of payments, the developers record record sales, and the young family findeth itself financially fettered for decades.

To label such a model an unconditional social achievement is direct cynicism. If the mortgage becometh a form of lifelong financial bondage, then square yards can no longer be the sole measure of prosperity. Such a form of virtual servitude condemns our families to small numbers, undermining the very roots of our demographic vitality.

The Most Uncomfortable Question

Yet the chief failing of the new People's Programme lieth not even in its content.

Five years ago, the nation heard practically the same words. Then, too, there was talk of a people's programme, of public deliberation, of thousands of initiatives and a new model of development.

Where, today, is the final account?

What indicators were attained? Which promises were fulfilled in entirety? Which proved impossible? Why do the real incomes of the populace grow so much slower than the prices of goods? Why do the costs of utilities continue to rise swifter than the citizens' sense of well-being? Why doth the economy of the regions face a decline in industrial production, while no soul publicly beareth responsibility for these results?

Any system of governance is built upon a simple sequence: promise—execution—account—responsibility.

In modern Russian politics, the final element hath practically vanished.

The Political Ground-Squirrel

There is a known phrase from the cinema: 'Do you see the ground-squirrel?' 'No.' 'Neither do I. And yet, it is there.'

The People's Programme increasingly resembleth such a political ground-squirrel.

It existeth. It is spoken of at congresses. It is cited by officials and deputies. But when a citizen attempteth to behold its concrete, measurable results in his own life, he findeth it surprisingly difficult to do so.

He seeth the rise in utility payments. He seeth the exorbitant mortgage. He seeth the disparity in wages between the provinces. He seeth the queues in the infirmaries and the waning purchasing power of his coin.

For this reason, before a new list of promises is presented, society requireth not another programme document, but an honest reckoning of the previous one.

How many promises were kept? How many proved to be errors? Which decisions worsened the lot of the people? Who bore the political responsibility?

For the right to ask for trust for another five years ariseth only after one simple act—an honest account of the five that have passed.