Navalny's long shadow over 2024

Navalny's death shows dissent in Putin's Russia is a dangerous game. Trump's threats show a similar disdain for his adversaries.

Alexei Navalny’s death hit this year’s opening session of the Munich Security Conference like a proverbial ton of bricks.

The conference is where the world’s elite gather to ponder global threats with carefully worded statements and diplomatic posturing. But when Navalny’s wife, Yulia Navalnaya, stepped onto the stage usually reserved for political heavyweights, she transformed the gathering into something far more poignant, far more human.

Her presence, just hours after her husband's reported demise in a Russian penal colony, was a stark reminder of the personal costs of political dissent and ensured his fight wouldn't be forgotten amidst the conference's usual fare of strategic alliances and security dilemmas.

Navalny, Vladimir Putin's most formidable political adversary, succumbed to a fate all too familiar for critics of the Kremlin. His relentless pursuit of a transparent, corruption-free Russia, highlighted by his survival of a Novichok poisoning in 2020, showcased his indomitable spirit. Yet, his return to Russia from Germany, where he had been recuperating, led to his immediate arrest and eventual death.

As condolences poured in, Yulia Navalnaya's resolve was the definition of defiance. She spoke of justice, of a day when Putin and his cronies would be held accountable, a sentiment that resonated deeply in a room full of people more accustomed to discussing troop movements than the moral imperatives of justice.

“I thought: should I stand here before you or should I go back to my children. And then I thought: what would have Alexei done in my place," she pondered aloud, echoing through the halls and perhaps, for a moment, making the world's most powerful figures feel utterly powerless.

credit: POOL/Munich Security Conference

The conference, already set against the backdrop of Russia's aggression in Ukraine, found itself grappling with a more immediate representation of Putin's ruthlessness. And the gloves were off, with the Russian regime branded "evil" in a manner so blunt, it would make a diplomat blush.

Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau called Putin a "monster." US Vice President Kamala Harris, not to be outdone, pledged unwavering support for Ukraine and NATO, in a speech that might as well have been accompanied by an eagle and a stirring rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner."

Navalny's death, reported under suspiciously vague circumstances, was a grim reminder of the fate that befalls those who dare to oppose Putin. It's a list that's growing uncomfortably long, a veritable who's who of critics who've met untimely ends. The Russian regime's pattern of silencing opposition, often leading to the "sudden Russian death syndrome" as some have termed it, underscores the lethal extents to which autocrats will go to maintain power. The message is clear: dissent in Putin's Russia is a dangerous game, one with the highest of stakes.

This narrative, of course, is not unique to Russia. Authoritarian leaders the world over have a penchant for silencing their critics, often permanently. It finds a disturbing resonance in the United States, where former President Donald Trump has openly praised authoritarian regimes, including Vladimir Putin’s Russia, Viktor Orbán's Hungary, and Kim Jong Un's North Korea.

Trump’s threats may not yet have reached the fatal extremes seen in Russia, but the trajectory of his rhetoric and actions points towards a similar disdain for democratic norms and opposition.

Trump has promised a return to power marked by loyalty purges and retribution against his critics. In a recent interview with Univision, Trump made clear his willingness to weaponize federal agencies to settle personal vendettas. His threats to "demolish" political opponents he labels as "vermin" and to use the Justice Department to indict them, coupled with his suggestion that Biden's administration is the true threat to democracy, inverts reality in a way that authoritarian leaders often do to maintain their grip on power.

This all paints a grim picture of what a second Trump term could entail – a dark comedy where loyalty is not just prized; it’s demanded with the fervor of a man who has watched The Godfather too many times.

Trump’s Republican supporters, which at this point constitute most of the party, are happy to oblige. The GOP has shown all the backbone of a chocolate éclair, acquiescing to Trump's whims with a fervor that would have Ronald Reagan spinning in his grave, assuming he could stop laughing long enough at the irony of it all.

The saga of the immigration legislation, where the GOP bent over backward to accommodate Trump's demands, was a performance so spineless, one wonders if the Republican Party's symbol should be changed from an elephant to an invertebrate.

And let's not forget the NATO debacle, where Trump claimed that he would encourage Russia “to do whatever the hell they want” to delinquent NATO members . The threat sent shockwaves through Europe but was met with a collective shrug from most Republicans, a testament to the party’s transformation into a troupe of acrobats skilled in the art of moral flexibility.

Is this who we are counting on to be guardrails if Trump indeed makes good on his threats to go after his opponents?

As we ponder the future in a world where strongmen seem to be multiplying, let's remember Munich. Not just as a conference, but as a moment when the personal and the political collided, reminding us of the very human cost of tyranny.

The conference, with its unexpected turn into the personal tragedy of the Navalnys, was a stark reminder of the stakes involved in the global struggle against authoritarianism.

As the world's diplomats return to their respective corners of the globe, one hopes they carry with them a renewed sense of purpose. If it takes the tragic heroism of figures like Alexei Navalny to remind us of that, then let his memory be a rallying cry for all who value freedom and justice. And to Mr. Trump and his ilk, a reminder: the world is watching, and history has a long memory.