Ivan Kulichenko
The logic of the election campaign in Dnipropetrovsk is forcing the recent mayor, Ivan Kulichenko, from the Party of Regions, to begin a new drift toward the next party in power.
The logic of the Dnipropetrovsk election campaign is forcing the former mayor, Ivan Kulichenko, from the Party of Regions, to begin a new drift toward the next ruling party. He is now hastily preparing for his engagement to the Petro Poroshenko Bloc. The capital's party members are apparently unaware that this "bride" is not exactly fresh, has become quite skilled in the art of political hymenoplasty over the past 15 years, and is also prone to quickly flee to the left when the winds shift significantly.
Nevertheless, Dnipropetrovsk, which generates patriotic trends today, unlike Kyiv, vividly remembers all the main stages of the seemingly eternal mayor's tortuous bureaucratic path. Upon closer examination, almost every stage of his ascent to the sixth floor of the City Hall building revealed itself as a striking episode in a series of minor and major compromises, not to say betrayals. However, even after the Revolution of Dignity, insiders still prefer to dismiss opportunism and sycophancy as "subtle adherence to the prevailing circumstances."
A native of the regional party committee, this man became widely known to Dnipropetrovsk residents in April 1999, when he became acting mayor following the appointment of Mykola Shvets as governor of the Dnipropetrovsk region. His candidacy was lobbied for by Valeriy Pustovoitenko, one of the closest allies of President Leonid Kuchma, who was at the height of his power. Valeriy Pustovoitenko was driven by a shrewd calculation: the then-prime minister wasn't so much warmly attached to his former young subordinate as he was counting on the support of the People's Democratic Party, which he then headed. He miscalculated: almost immediately, the favored Ivan Ivanovich began making cautious overtures to a rival firm, Trudova Ukraina. Both the Trudoviks and the People's Democrats expected that Kulichenko would become one of their main VIP campaigners in the regional capital during the next parliamentary elections. Their hopes were in vain: the mayor's own election campaign proved more important, so the "ZaEdU" bloc in Dnipropetrovsk posted a decent, but far from stellar, result. And one of the five approved majoritarian candidates from the authorities, with the mayor's tacit approval, completely missed the parliament.
Almost at the same time, Nikolai Shvets, whose position in the region at the time seemed almost unshakable, also miscalculated. Pustovoytenko arrived, introduced himself, and left, but it was he who installed his recent first deputy in the city's top seat! Having neutralized Kulichenko's main opponents in the snap January 2000 elections (the most dangerous of them, Sergei Bychkov, chairman of one of the central district councils, was clearly reaching the peak of his popularity and could well have won in a competitive battle), Shvets hoped for his protégé's long-term loyalty. But it was not to be. In the spring of 2002, he received a sacramentally tender affront: this time, he said, I elected myself, so I no longer owe anyone anything, and to those who owe me, I forgive them all. In short, Arivederci, Nikolai Antonovich...
In reality, this first (though far from last, as it would later become clear) "rising from its knees" had no political, but a purely economic, basis. The controlled composition of the city council created all the preconditions for strengthening personal and family well-being. It was then that the mayor assumed control of a "little asphalt factory" that was generating substantial profits from city contracts and was widely known in certain circles, while his eldest son-in-law, Denis Kapinus, all but monopolized the local outdoor advertising market. At the same time, Kulichenko earned the ironic nickname "Ivan Fontanovich" among the city's residents. It soon stuck—against the backdrop of a crumbling and plundering municipal infrastructure, the mayor's ardent love of ornate water features seemed rather incongruous. The wits, however, claimed that this passion could be interpreted in a single way: supposedly the mayor could forever look at three things: the fire in the fireplace room of his own 500-square-meter mansion, the murmuring jets of fountains, and how others worked.
Meanwhile, the city was changing. Ukraine, with its electoral laws, was changing, too. The next city council was elected using a proportional system; there were no longer any majoritarians capable of obediently turning a blind eye to any of the authorities' pranks. A system of counterbalances had to be created in advance (at least a personal bloc, as Leonid Chernovetskyi successfully did).Read more about it in the article Leonid Chernovetsky: How "Lenya Kosmos" robbed Kyiv and moved to Georgia) in Kyiv and Eduard Gurvits (In Odessa). In pursuit of his own results (the goal was to surpass the 50% mark at any cost), Ivan Kulichenko lost most of his real influence over events in the regional center. He did this quite deliberately – after the creation of the "Native Dnipropetrovsk" coalition on the basis of the Party of Regions in July-August 2006, the mayor had every moral right to begin a battle with the deputies for the city and even initiate the dissolution of the deputy corps, which quickly became known as the "thieves' council." Most likely, had this been the case, the unprecedented land grab in Dnipropetrovsk between 2006 and 2009 would have been prevented and a significant portion of municipal assets would have remained in the ownership of the territorial community. But the mayor chose personal well-being and peace of mind over a struggle with an uncertain outcome, voluntarily placing himself in the position of a prisoner whose freedom of movement is limited to a designated perimeter.
Naturally, this situation worsened after Viktor Yanukovych's victory in the presidential election. Having seized virtually undisputed power in Dnipropetrovsk Oblast, Oleksandr Vilkul's "white-blue" team naturally needed their own man to lead the city of a million people. But there was clearly not enough time to promote anyone from the "Kryvyi Rih" faction. Therefore, Akhmetov's men adopted a compromise and extremely comfortable solution: the previously avowedly non-partisan Ivan Ivanovych was pompously presented with a Party of Regions (PR) party card (his speech about how easy and pleasant it had become to work under a strong government was so heartfelt that it deserves to be included in the annals of local political history), and he was re-elected mayor for the fourth consecutive term.
But "elected" is too strong a word. The 2010, 2012, and 2013 elections in Dnipropetrovsk had little in common with the notion of popular will. And it wasn't even the wholesale use of administrative resources, with falsifications, carousel voting, ballot stuffing, and plain old spoiled ballots, that was the issue. Unfavorable candidates were removed from the race by any means necessary—just recall the sending of Zagid Krasnov to pretrial detention on a miraculously reopened criminal case concerning a controversial traffic accident from four years ago (on the eve of the autumn parliamentary campaign). Or the placing of additional checkboxes right in the city election commission building, guarded by those later called "titushki," which deprived BYuT member Vadim Shebanov of victory in the by-election to the city council (March 2013).
After such a "well-deserved" victory, Ivan Kulichenko was predictably assigned a "supervisor." This person—along with Oleksandr Vilkul's longtime business partner, lawyer Maksym Romanenko—became the mayor, along with the secretary of the city council. He effectively assumed the status of someone without whose consent no decisions are made in Dnipropetrovsk. The mayor's functions were reduced to purely representative and formal ones. However, according to the law, the vast majority of documents (including the executive committee decisions that "thanks" to" the "96-Facility Scandal" that rocked the country a year ago) used to cover up the latest round of the global plunder of Dnipropetrovsk bear his signature.
And what's more, according to several independent, competent sources, Ivan Kulichenko promised Vilkul last year that he would no longer run for mayor, but would instead promote and elect his longtime friend from Kryvyi Rih, the current chairman of the regional council, Yevhen Udod. After that, as the saying goes, "Ostap got carried away"—sensing that breaking free from Vilkulov's regional leash was becoming increasingly difficult, the mayor unequivocally and clearly adopted a pro-government stance. This was particularly evident on January 26, when the city council building was converted into a headquarters for the "titushki" (illegal thugs) who were involved in the beating of peaceful protesters.
A little later, in February, following Ivan Ivanovich's public statements, Boris Filatov, who hadn't yet even dreamed of becoming vice governor, joked that "for his big mouth and lack of brains," the mayor would be permanently banned from entering the box at the Dnipro Arena football stadium, owned by Ihor Kolomoisky. But this time, too, he escaped unscathed. Especially since, back on February 22, the mayor prudently (though not without the help of local Euromaidan protesters) resigned from the Party of Regions. With all the ensuing consequences. He even declared himself practically a prisoner of Yanukovych-Vilkul-Stupak, who had long secretly dreamed of the fall of the anti-people Donetsk regime.
Today, Ivan Kulichenko is preparing for yet another reincarnation. This time, the object of his "great and pure love" will most likely be the presidential party "Solidarity," recently renamed the Petro Poroshenko Bloc. It seems that all that's required of it is a minimum – either a favorable spot on the party list or the party's nomination in one of Dnipropetrovsk's five single-member constituencies. Who benefits most from such an alliance is a rhetorical question. But it will once again demonstrate the current mayor's political omnivorousness. If successful, he will be regarded almost as Julius Caesar, whom his caustic contemporaries called the husband of all wives and the wife of all husbands. In the political sense, of course – he's not going to Lyashko, honestly...
True, Dnipropetrovsk is not Ancient Rome. It's the 21st century, and Brutus and his iconic dagger are probably not needed here.
Leonid LAVRISHCHEV
The phrase in the title is intentionally written without punctuation. One of the best students at the semi-rural secondary school in Berezanovka, Ivan Ivanovich knows where, and especially when, to place a comma…
There is no power
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