By Chris Monday

Yet another set of rumors have entwined Russia: Friction between the Putin and Medvedev factions is corroding its amphisbaenic power structure. Indeed, Prime Minister Vladimir Putin has become increasingly aggressive.

In a recent interview, Putin claimed Dmitry Medvedev was ''poriadochnyi" which could signify either ''decent" or ''subordinated to the hierarchy." In the low-brow Russian Pioneer, Putin adumbrated optimal methods to fire subordinates ― apparently pointing another barb toward Medvedev.

Meanwhile, President Medvedev has been charting a separate course: he granted interviews with opposition newspapers, released Svetlana Bakhmina (a former Yukos lawyer), castigated powerful police lieutenants and published the incomes of government bureaucrats.

All this has generated talk of a Khrushchev-style thaw, a premise now guiding the Obama administration's tactics.

But the legendarily sinuous path of Russian history has often spawned empty hopes for grand change. Memorably, the sudden implosion of the Soviet Union was framed as a panacea.

Nonetheless, the world soon faced a multitude of fresh threats. The downfall of the Putin regime might create analogous, if less spectacular, conundrums.

What would be the consequences of an oppositional victory over Putin? For President Obama, ''change" is made a popular slogan by flourishing bailouts and subsidies.

But any reform-oriented Russian government, facing a grave economic crisis, would be forced to conduct a series of unpalatable reforms. Firstly, as contended by natural gas expert Jonathan Stern, the Kremlin would be obliged to increase the domestic price of energy.

Other unpopular measures would follow: raising taxes, devaluing the ruble, allowing private companies to fire more workers, and thinning the bloated ranks of government officials.

Thanks to their opportunity to join the European Union and NATO, these kinds of thorny reforms received mandates in Ukraine and Georgia. Unfortunately, Russia lacks this incentive.

In addition, the power base of any post-Putin regime would be undercut. Firstly, the current recession will drastically shrink the middle class.

Secondly, a policy of clean government would surely curtail Vladislav Surkov's vast political machine which sponsors pseudo-political parties, university lecturers, publishing houses, Internet sites, think tanks and student movements. Thus, a potent resource would degenerate into disgruntled opponents.

Thirdly, government corporations, having blossomed under Putin, would be downsized, thus denying the government a powerful lever.

Numerous proposed liberal reforms, while intuitively appealing, will in practice prove unworkable. For example, after a recent police shooting spree in a Moscow supermarket, many have called for reform of the internal security forces; indeed, muckrakers have persistently contended that police officers are involved in racketeering.

The reality is that without the police, small businesses would face incessant shakedowns from a legion of mafia gangs. This was the situation the entire business community faced in the '90s and its resolution is a major reason why Putin continues to be immensely popular.

At a minimum, protection ''services" have been centralized. Ask any taxi driver or prostitute and they will answer: ''at least I know whom to pay."

Furthermore, it is doubtful that liberals would command sufficient coercive powers to deal with a legion of potential threats, ranging from the rise of radical Sunni sects to the swelling tent cities of alienated ''guest" workers.

Rule in the Caucus region is a case study of Weber's charismatic power; in particular, strongman Ramzan Kadyrov considers Putin a father figure. Essentially, the same is true for most regions of Russia, where governors and local elites form states within states, coordinated though tacit understandings.

A public renunciation of Putin would uncomfortably compel leaders at all levels to admit they were dupes. For example, Russian academic conferences, as I have often witnessed, are accompanied by toasts to Putin. After his downfall, these professors ― along with countless sports figures, student leaders and entertainers ― would have to publicly recant.

The current state ideology is necessarily cartoonish, based on boogeyman fears of the West and cheap patriotism.

But how else can ideas gain wide currency in a nation of heterogeneous constituencies and varying degrees of literacy? In place of this ''retrograde" ideology would presumably arrive leaders dependent on the advice of the International Monetary Fund (IMF).

But as William Easterly and Joseph Stiglitz have indicated, this type of support tends to be contradictory. Indeed, it's hard to envision how Russia's fractured opposition could generate any sort of ruling ideology.

Among the current rivals to Putin, there is absolutely no consensus: The Russian opposition is a cacophony of contradictory notions including fascism, pseudo-communism, anti-globalism, monetarism, and Ayn Randish-libertarianism. The protean nature of opposition movements has been the bane of Russian history.

Key members of the liberal opposition are ― for various reasons also deeply rooted in Russian history ― represented by ethnic diasporas and viewed as alien by the majority of Russians. Undoubtedly, racism and anti-Semitism are still real forces in Russia's political life.

Moreover, their protracted interlude from mainstream media has further divorced liberals from the worldview of average Russians; tellingly, liberals on radio shows often can't understand slang-heavy call-ins.

Because of the lack of a media market in Russia, opposition journalists must orient themselves to Western audiences. In fact the liberal idea, while having roots in Russian culture, has never enjoyed strong backing.

Even in the mid-90s, when the liberal Our House controlled the entire state administration, Gazprom, and the police, it could never muster more than 15 percent of the popular vote.

The notion, often expounded in Washington, that a change in Moscow will cure all the region's problems is laughably Russian-centric. (As pointed out by Martha Brill Olcott, U.S. ''Eurasian" studies programs continue to focus exclusively on Russia, viewing other areas as exotic electives).

Post-Putin, intractable territorial disputes in such areas as Nagorno-Karabakh, Transnistria, Abkhazia, and Crimea will not go away; in fact, they may worsen without a Russian scapegoat. Such geopolitical rivals as Poland, the Baltic states, and Georgia will continue to be hostile because the ruling ideology of each of these nations is largely centered on animosity towards Russia.

Moreover, many of these disagreements are founded in obdurate economic conflicts, notably gas and oil routes. As for Russian allies, whose leaders have aped Putin's masculine approach, their admiration will be disabused and they would presumably lose financial sponsorship from a reform-oriented Russian regime.

Such countries as Kazakhstan, Belarus, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan and Armenia would become alienated from and disenchanted with Russia.

Ultimately many of these nations would forge relationships with such regional hegemonies as Iran, the Sunni Muslim community, or China. In turn, these rivals of Russia would surely exploit any power vacuum.

Sadly, the majority of Russia's real challenges ― the demographic crisis, the rise of radical Islam, a malfunctioning educational system, the geographical misallocation of major cities ― are conundrums which have grown for decades and have no obvious solutions. Long hidden from public view, these evils would be blamed on a new government.

Chris Monday is a researcher at Dongseo University in Busan. He lived for eight years in Russia. He can be reached at chrismonday@gmail.com. The views expressed in the above article are those of the author and do not reflect the editorial policy of The Korea Times.