The third and, one imagines, the final book in Boris Yeltsin's autobiographical series once again shows Russia's former president in the best possible light. There is the occasional regret that things might have been done better but in general Mr Yeltsin gives himself praise where it is due and, frequently, when it is not.
Former president Yeltsin's views on the President of Turkmenistan provide a case in point. In a brief summary of his opinions of the leaders of other former Soviet republics he writes: "Saparmurat Niyazov invited me to visit sunny Turkmenistan. Soon everything there would be in bloom. Fruits and melons would fill the tables . . . Niyazov is now trying to use the country's natural wealth in gas and cotton. And why not, as long as he is able to feed everyone without changing the customary precepts and exploiting natural resources?"
Recent visitors have noticed some strange "customary precepts" in that part of the world. Turkmenistan's capital has been transformed into a place of worship to the persona of Mr Niyazov, who now prefers to go by the moniker Turkmen Bashi (Father of the Turkmens). The oddest of these "customary precepts" is a golden statue of Niyazov set on a concrete imitation of the Eiffel Tower. A complicated mechanism ensures that in daylight hours the statue rotates to face the sun at all times. The views of Lawrence Uzzell, head of the Oxford-based Keston Institute which monitors religious freedom, differ starkly from those of Mr Yeltsin. "In Turkmenistan I heard eyewitness accounts of things that have not happened in the Russian Federation since the early 1980s: police raids on worship services, arrests of believers, mass confiscations of Bibles and other religious literature. I stood in the ruins of a Protestant church which the authorities had razed to the ground in late 1999," Mr Uzzell wrote earlier this month.
It should be said, in fairness, that Mr Yeltsin is not the only retired politician to ignore Niyazov's excesses. The "Father of the Turkmens" has reached his current position due in no small measure to the guidance and advice of General Alexander Haig, US Secretary of State under President Ronald Reagan.
But perhaps Mr Yeltsin's comments are simply based on ignorance. There is some evidence in the book which indicates that he has not always been well informed. An entire chapter, for example, is devoted to a scandal involving Russia's Prosecutor General, Mr Yuri Skuratov. It begins with the following words: "I don't even feel like beginning this chapter. Yet the story it contains must be told. So be it."
Mr Yeltsin quickly overcomes his reticence and deals in over 15 pages with what is described in the book as the "Skuratov sex scandal." Skuratov had been investigating corrupt links between the Kremlin and a Swiss construction firm called Mabetex. Yeltsin tried to sack Skuratov but needed the support of the upper house of parliament. The upper house would not comply and, out of the blue, a video appeared on state television of a man resembling Skuratov in bed with two young prostitutes.
In the book, Mr Yeltsin maintains he heard about the Mabetex case for the first time at a meeting with Skuratov after the video had been shown on TV. This is a remarkable assertion. It is extremely difficult to believe that Mr Yeltsin was unaware of an investigation into Kremlin corruption when it was being reported in the Russian media and in newspapers as diverse as The Washington Post, The Irish Times and the Telegraph-Herald of Dubuque, Iowa.
Midnight Diaries includes a number of other revelations on Mr Yeltsin's stewardship of the Kremlin. Their credibility should, perhaps, be judged in the light of the above.
Seamus Martin is International Editor of The Irish Times
