Abramovich, Berezovsky and the real story of Russia's lost billions

It has been bizarre to watch, from the safe distance of Moscow, how the British press has reported the court case between Roman Abramovich and Boris Berezovsky. All the classic ingredients of tabloid fare are there: vast wealth, broken promises, honour, shame, "krysha" – Russian for "roof" but a slang term meaning "protection" – and a few chateaux, yachts and flamboyant women thrown in too.

But I hope the glitz and glamour of these mens' lives has not blinded Russian people, or Britain's media and political class, to what made them rich in the first place. And to many Russians, they are settling their dispute in London not because it has an independent and efficient judicial system, but because the British government cares not at all about the history of their accumulated wealth.

Everybody knows what happened after the fall of the Soviet Union. A few opportunistic businessmen swooped like vultures to claim whole industries for themselves. Quickly, they made hundreds of millions by monopolising them. The Kremlin, whose long slide into autocracy shows no sign of relenting, made deals with several of them, knowing it would be easier to keep them on side than to open up Russia's economy to proper procedures, competition, and fair trade. That's the story people are familiar with. But something is beginning to change. First of all, several of these men – it's almost always men, I'm afraid – have grievances with each other which date back many years; but they have only recently called in their lawyers. So expect more disputes in the manner of Berezovsky v Abramovich soon.

Second, the sheer scale of the losses to the Russian people – in shady deals and contracts, and lost productivity, jobs, and income – is only now becoming clear. My own estimate is that over $500bn has been effectively stolen from the Russian people between 2003-2011; economists I speak to in Moscow suggest it could be more. Russia's struggling citizens have every right to reclaim these funds, and as awareness of this vast sum spreads across the country, so too will intolerance of it. When demonstrations broke out in Moscow before Christmas, it was noticeable how many of the protesters were demanding their money back from the Kremlin.

If that is to happen, the Russian people need help. I have long felt that the people best equipped to hold the powerful to account are journalists, which is one reason why Mikhail Gorbachev and I publish the pro-democracy paper Novaya Gazeta, many of whose reporters have been assassinated. As the digital revolution spreads across Russia, and dissident bloggers such as the notorious Navalny find their voice, a new wave of articulate young soldiers will join our fight.

Brave journalists cannot do it alone, however. Russia's people need the help of the EU, OECD, UN, and IMF. Perhaps Nato and the distinguished guests at Davos might take an interest too. We need the best human rights lawyers, because it is the human rights of the Russian people that have been so violated. But above all, perhaps, our neighbours among national governments need to stop pretending they are innocent bystanders in this battle. And top of that list is the British government.

Businessmen in Russia sometimes ask me why so many of my wealthy countrymen from Russia and the former Soviet Union end up in London. The simple reason is that the British government does not ask too many questions of them.

Together with the autocrats of the Kremlin, some controversial Russian businessmen have come to convey an image of Russia that is cruel, inhumane, and deeply unjust. Actually this nation of tolerant and honourable people is nothing like the stereotype that now prevails. That is why I am trying to draw attention to the issue of holding the powerful to account, and why we cannot let the squabble between two of London's richest men distract us from the real story. A vast deception has been perpetrated against the Russian people; but with the right international support, they can reclaim what rightfully belongs to them.

The Guardian