Pavel Khodorkovsky today writes in The Telegraph newspaper on the ninth anniversary of his father’s arrest.

“Nine years ago today, Vladimir Putin’s regime arrested my father, Mikhail Khodorkovsky, on trumped-up, politically motivated charges. The Yukos oil company he led, then one of the largest in Russia, was subsequently destroyed, its assets expropriated through forced bankruptcy and rigged auctions.

Those assets were in the spotlight this week, as BP and Rosneft signed their multi-billion-dollar deal. As The Daily Telegraph’s business editor put it: “Rosneft itself is the product of assets appropriated – if stolen is too strong a word – from Yukos.”

My father’s continued imprisonment has had a lasting, damaging impact on Russia, politically and economically. And his prospects for freedom are intertwined with Russia’s current political climate.

Last December, Russians took to the streets to protest against their government – for the first time in two decades – following rigged parliamentary elections. The winter of ballot-stuffing melted into the spring of strong-arming the opposition ahead of March’s presidential election. The outgoing Dmitry Medvedev’s illusions of hope were swept aside by the returning Putin’s unmistakable severity. Pussy Riot punk rockers were locked up, bloggers bugged and any non-profit organisation accepting funds from abroad labelled a menacing “foreign agent”.

The centrepiece of Medvedev’s supposed pro-Democracy reforms, direct elections of regional governors, took place last month – but with the United Russia party’s trademark interference. The opposition activist Evgenia Chirikova was allowed to stand for mayor in Khimki, but her supporters were intimidated by Putin loyalists. A pro-Kremlin media outlet bizarrely suggested her association with the Institute of Modern Russia, of which I am the president, was a reason she lost.

Democracy and human rights in Russia remain fragile. But neither I nor my father has lost hope. More than 82,000 Russians voted online last week in the first Opposition Council election. The results are less important than the fact that more than 165,000 Russians registered, uploading their photos to the election website, and risking reprisals from government forces.

But pro-democracy activists still have a long way to go. The paradox of Putin’s authoritarian rule is this: although his popularity has ebbed in the past year, and the opposition movement grown, a fair election – for the Duma, for regional governors, for president – would have yielded a pro-Kremlin result.

Large parts of Russia still prefer Putin’s style of rule to the alternatives. But instead of capitalising on his position, Putin is jeopardising it by cracking down harder, adding fuel to the opposition fire. Indeed, his authoritarian displays, such as locking up the three women from Pussy Riot for singing a 30-second song in a church, have made him look ridiculous.

But Russia will soon face intensified international attention, given its slaughter-facilitating intransigence on Syria, its recent accession to the World Trade Organisation, and its hosting of the 2014 Winter Olympics. The question for Putin is how to hold onto power peacefully, without looking ever more authoritarian, outlandish and out of control.

My family and I hope that part of the answer could be to free my father. I am not naive enough to think that Putin will suddenly develop a love of the rule of law and loosen his grip on the judiciary. Nor do I necessarily think that he cares about coming across unfavourably around the world. But Western governments, including the US and United Kingdom; respected peace activists, from Elie Wiesel to Aung San Suu Kyi; human rights groups, such as Amnesty International and Freedom House; and noted legal organisations such as the International Bar Association all agree: my father’s freedom would boost Russia’s international legitimacy, open up its market to foreign investors and demonstrate that the nation is serious about the rule of law.

My father has stated often that he has no political ambitions. His only vocational aspirations are to return to philanthropy and education programmes, like the Open Russia Foundation he began a decade ago. He does not want to return to oil.

For now, however, his future decisions are hypothetical. Yet as he sits in jail, he remains a galvanising figure – and a thorn in Putin’s side. His writings on democracy and freedom are read and admired across Russia and the world, his vision of a new Russia reverberating in the minds of every one of us. “I am convinced the only way forward,” he recently told a German newspaper, “is non-violent protest with the objective of attaining the liberalisation of socio-political life… the probability of [liberalisation] is extremely significant in the next three to five years.”

If Putin wanted Mikhail Khodorkovsky to go away, he should have exiled him like so many others, to the anonymity of a New York or London cocktail party. Instead, as he begins his tenth year away from us, my father feels closer – his words more poignant, his ideas more likely to spark something revolutionary – than at any time in the last nine years.”

Pavel Khodorkovsky is president of the Institute of Modern Russia and is based in New York

The original article in The Telegraph can be found here

Pavel Khodorkovsky today writes in The Telegraph newspaper on the ninth anniversary of his father’s arrest.

“Nine years ago today, Vladimir Putin’s regime arrested my father, Mikhail Khodorkovsky, on trumped-up, politically motivated charges. The Yukos oil company he led, then one of the largest in Russia, was subsequently destroyed, its assets expropriated through forced bankruptcy and rigged auctions.

Those assets were in the spotlight this week, as BP and Rosneft signed their multi-billion-dollar deal. As The Daily Telegraph’s business editor put it: “Rosneft itself is the product of assets appropriated – if stolen is too strong a word – from Yukos.”

My father’s continued imprisonment has had a lasting, damaging impact on Russia, politically and economically. And his prospects for freedom are intertwined with Russia’s current political climate.

Last December, Russians took to the streets to protest against their government – for the first time in two decades – following rigged parliamentary elections. The winter of ballot-stuffing melted into the spring of strong-arming the opposition ahead of March’s presidential election. The outgoing Dmitry Medvedev’s illusions of hope were swept aside by the returning Putin’s unmistakable severity. Pussy Riot punk rockers were locked up, bloggers bugged and any non-profit organisation accepting funds from abroad labelled a menacing “foreign agent”.

The centrepiece of Medvedev’s supposed pro-Democracy reforms, direct elections of regional governors, took place last month – but with the United Russia party’s trademark interference. The opposition activist Evgenia Chirikova was allowed to stand for mayor in Khimki, but her supporters were intimidated by Putin loyalists. A pro-Kremlin media outlet bizarrely suggested her association with the Institute of Modern Russia, of which I am the president, was a reason she lost.

Democracy and human rights in Russia remain fragile. But neither I nor my father has lost hope. More than 82,000 Russians voted online last week in the first Opposition Council election. The results are less important than the fact that more than 165,000 Russians registered, uploading their photos to the election website, and risking reprisals from government forces.

But pro-democracy activists still have a long way to go. The paradox of Putin’s authoritarian rule is this: although his popularity has ebbed in the past year, and the opposition movement grown, a fair election – for the Duma, for regional governors, for president – would have yielded a pro-Kremlin result.

Large parts of Russia still prefer Putin’s style of rule to the alternatives. But instead of capitalising on his position, Putin is jeopardising it by cracking down harder, adding fuel to the opposition fire. Indeed, his authoritarian displays, such as locking up the three women from Pussy Riot for singing a 30-second song in a church, have made him look ridiculous.

But Russia will soon face intensified international attention, given its slaughter-facilitating intransigence on Syria, its recent accession to the World Trade Organisation, and its hosting of the 2014 Winter Olympics. The question for Putin is how to hold onto power peacefully, without looking ever more authoritarian, outlandish and out of control.

My family and I hope that part of the answer could be to free my father. I am not naive enough to think that Putin will suddenly develop a love of the rule of law and loosen his grip on the judiciary. Nor do I necessarily think that he cares about coming across unfavourably around the world. But Western governments, including the US and United Kingdom; respected peace activists, from Elie Wiesel to Aung San Suu Kyi; human rights groups, such as Amnesty International and Freedom House; and noted legal organisations such as the International Bar Association all agree: my father’s freedom would boost Russia’s international legitimacy, open up its market to foreign investors and demonstrate that the nation is serious about the rule of law.

My father has stated often that he has no political ambitions. His only vocational aspirations are to return to philanthropy and education programmes, like the Open Russia Foundation he began a decade ago. He does not want to return to oil.

For now, however, his future decisions are hypothetical. Yet as he sits in jail, he remains a galvanising figure – and a thorn in Putin’s side. His writings on democracy and freedom are read and admired across Russia and the world, his vision of a new Russia reverberating in the minds of every one of us. “I am convinced the only way forward,” he recently told a German newspaper, “is non-violent protest with the objective of attaining the liberalisation of socio-political life… the probability of [liberalisation] is extremely significant in the next three to five years.”

If Putin wanted Mikhail Khodorkovsky to go away, he should have exiled him like so many others, to the anonymity of a New York or London cocktail party. Instead, as he begins his tenth year away from us, my father feels closer – his words more poignant, his ideas more likely to spark something revolutionary – than at any time in the last nine years.”

 Pavel Khodorkovsky is president of the Institute of Modern Russia and is based in New York

 The original article in The Telegraph can be found here