CHEBOKSARY, Russia -- Chuvashia, one of Russia's 21 ethnic republics, is neither blessed nor cursed. It has none of the mineral wealth of, say, Tatarstan, its oil-rich eastern neighbor. And it has seen none of the separatist violence that still plagues Chechnya and other parts of the North Caucasus.

But it does have a very Soviet sense of hospitality. A visitor to Cheboksary, the capital of Chuvashia, is likely to leave with some pleasant memories, albeit slightly blurry ones: A boat trip on the Volga River is mandatory, as are multiple shots of vodka while on board.

For visiting Americans, the toasts can have the odd ring of détente: “To Russian-American friendship! To our mutual understanding!”

Chuvashia also makes an interesting test case for the Bush administration's policy of promoting democracy around the globe. Following the hostage crisis in Beslan, North Ossetia, last year, Russian President Vladimir Putin moved to consolidate the Kremlin's power, pushing changes to Russian electoral law through a pliant parliament. Putin ended the direct election of governors and regional leaders like Chuvashia's Nikolai Fyodorov and replaced it with a system of direct appointments. In Putin's Russia, loyalty is prized.

Putin has made clear that he does not like to be lectured about democracy, and the Bush administration -- known for employing the sweeping rhetoric of democratization -- has limited criticism of the rollback of Russian federalism to rather feeble expressions of concern. President Bush, perhaps mindful of Russian sensitivities, recently formulated his administration's position this way: “One should not fear democracy, one should embrace democracy. Now, having said that, I recognize that Russian democracy will be different from the United States.”

In many respects, Chuvashia is a good advertisement for Russia's “different” brand of democracy. Cheboksary, the capital, is remarkably neat and tidy compared to the decaying state of some provincial Russian cities. The countryside -- a rolling landscape of farmland and sparse forest -- is not marred by much heavy industry. Fyodorov, the president of the republic, has a reputation for promoting transparency and good governance. Promtraktor, a gargantuan Soviet-era tractor plant in Cheboksary, turns a modest profit.

Thrice elected by popular vote, Fyodorov was re-appointed by the president this year. It was an interesting development: Most regional leaders, anxious to keep their jobs, backed Putin in his quest to consolidate control of the regions. Fyodorov, who had also been Russia's justice minister in the early 1990s, was conspicuously silent.

Speaking on October 24 to a small group of Americans visiting as part of a fellowship, Fyodorov described Russian democracy as “a work in progress,” adding that stable institutions have yet to emerge. But he held out the hope that -- perhaps someday -- Russia might be able to return to direct elections of regional leaders.

“I'd really like to see us develop a more broadly-based democracy, and more appointment by election, for us to head in the direction of direct elections,” he told the visiting Americans. “I'm an advocate of these processes. And to see the political system become more democratic -- today it's very heavy-handed.”

Fyodorov bristled somewhat at the suggestion that he was an appointee, noting that his appointment has to be ratified by the local parliament -- although, he added, “even Kremlin technocrats often phrase it that way, however incorrectly.” But he insisted the change had not diluted his power.

“For me, there's no difference at all: neither in my relationship to the Kremlin, nor with the president of Russia, or in my relations with the people, with the electorate,” he said. “It doesn't affect my authority.”

At the beginning of the first Chechen war in 1994, Fyodorov clashed with Moscow in an effort to keep soldiers from Chuvashia from serving there. The Chuvash people are descendents of tribes that migrated from the Caucasus to the Volga region in the seventh and eight centuries; their language is Turkic, and the bulk of the Chuvash population is Eastern Orthodox. Fyodorov's move (which ultimately failed) coincided with a broader push by national minorities for greater sovereignty within Russia.

Fyodorov, an ethnic Chuvash, also offered visitors a frank observation on the threat of fragmentation within the Russian Federation. The job of the president of the United States, he said, is a “thousand times easier” than in Russia because of the centrifugal forces within the former empire.

“I'm not optimistic, even though the official media paints a rosy picture,” he said.

These were all very provocative points, but candor seemed to have its limits. Local camera crews arrived to film Fyodorov receiving the U.S. delegation; they taped his introductory greetings and then made a quick exit. The question-and-answer session would not make the evening news.

The ostensible purpose of the visit to Chuvashia was to promote understanding: Russia, at least in the view of Russian officialdom, is misunderstood. So troubled is the Kremlin by Russia's image problem that it has backed the creation of an English-language satellite news channel to present a more “balanced” view of Russia. That channel -- Russia Today -- is scheduled to begin regular broadcasts later this year.

Chuvashia is also doing its part for spin control. Yekaterina Melnik, an official of the Chuvash regional administration, hovered nearby as I spoke to a local journalist. According to her title, she worked as the head of “the division for cooperation with the organs of state power” in the local administration, and had escorted the visiting Americans on various visits around the city. She edged in a bit closer.

“Who's interviewing whom here?” she pressed.

Later on that evening, I received an e-mail from the journalist, subject line: “your colleagues would like to inform you.”

Would you believe, after our conversation, the woman from the presidential administration came up to me and read me the riot act. The administration, she said, did not furnish the information you shared in your conversation with the journalist, and that information does not correspond with the facts. And furthermore, no one gave you permission to give him an interview! […]

Basically, the KGB lives on in the minds of my fellow countrymen. They're always afraid that something bad might happen. It's ridiculous and childish to pretend that everything is terrific here.

She also received a reprimand at work. Openness, it seems, has its limits.

On the overnight train back to Moscow, one of Fyodorov's young aides happened to be on board. He was brandishing fresh copies of a local newspaper, Sovietskaya Chuvashia (“Soviet Chuvashia”). Page one, front and center, was a story headlined: “AMERICANS STUDY RUSSIA IN CHUVASHIA.”

The Americans quickly passed the papers around the train compartment, amused to see themselves quoted in the local press: Their quotes were all fabricated. The article was signed: press service, administration of the president of the Chuvash Republic.

Nathan Hodge is currently based in Moscow. His work has appeared in the Financial Times, on Slate, and in a number of U.S. and U.K. defense journals.