The only thing the Russians love more than an underdog is an underdog ousted for running against the crooks of a distrusted regime. On the night he was fired by Boris Yeltsin, Alexandr Lebed became an instant giant in the eyes of the Russian people. PNS associate editor Andrew Meier, currently on an Alicia Patterson Foundation fellowship to write about Russia's "Near Abroad," reports from Moscow.

MOSCOW - "Is this a civilized country -- or a circus?" That's the question I put to Russia's fallen hero, President Yeltsin's National Security Chief, on a Moscow street packed with press on the night he was sacked.

It was late, an hour before midnight, and his bevy of burly bodyguards -- no doubt the core of the private army he was accused of trying to create -- tried to push him into the waiting Mercedes. But Alexandr Ivanovich was in the limelight -- and he wanted to talk. Lebed paused for a beat and then boomed out the bass: "This is a circus."

Washington greeted the alarming news of General Alexandr Lebed's sacking last week with the standard shibboleths: "Yeltsin though sick is active," said White House press secretary Nicholas Burns. "Prime Minister Viktor Chernomyrdin is in charge of the day-to-day business of government," intoned Vice-president Gore. "The Russians have weathered many problems," recalled Defense Secretary William Perry, uncomfortably caught in Moscow during this latest squall. "They'll solve this one too."

But this time the cabal running the Kremlin, and the country, has gone too far. A Russian friend of mine watched Yeltsin on TV trying to explain his sacking of Lebed (all powdered-up and visibly immobile). Was Yeltsin as sick as Leonid Brezhnev was in his 1970s senility? I asked my friend. "No, he's already in rigor mortis," he replied.

Now more than ever since the fall of the USSR, the West has reason to be worried. Lebed is out -- just when Washington thought they had a "man we can work with," as one American diplomat told me in Moscow. After all, Lebed at NATO headquarters last week conceded he needed "to learn a new language," to shape a new non-confrontational relationship with NATO.

When Russia's "power ministers," the heads of the Interior, Defense and Security ministries, began fomenting a strong anti-Lebed chorus in Moscow a few weeks ago, it was obvious to most observers here that someone would have to go. But few imagined it would be Lebed.

Whether it was his Western-friendly face in Brussels or his Chechen-friendly truce in Grozny, the General did not make enough friends in the Kremlin cabal to survive the machinations of the so-called "Party of War," the hard-line militarists who stand to profit far more from continued conflict at home and abroad than from soothing words of peace -- or worse, a premature presidential campaign by Lebed.

Out on the streets that night, the fired security Tsar became an instant narodny kumir -- a giant among the people. The only thing the Russians love more than an underdog is an underdog ousted for running against the crooks of a distrusted regime. This evening was clearly the first night of the General's second presidential campaign.

Earlier, at his packed press conference, Lebed had been his usual blunt self -- this time however, with none of the bluster. "The President," he intoned to the gathered scribblers and shooters, "is a sick old man."

"Where will you go to work tomorrow?" I asked Lebed later on the street. He squared up and returned to the circus-vs.-civilization theme: "I will do all I can to start civilizing this country. We've had enough of these circus acts. We need to join the rest of the 'normal world,' where politics doesn't rule all decisions of government, where people have a chance to work to bring some order and decency to their societies."

But when will this happen?

"Soon," he said.

"In this century?" I asked doubtfully, given that the next presidential vote is not slated to come before the year 2000.

"Civilization will come to Russia in this century," Lebed bellowed. "This is the most important point. By 1999, I promise you that. Stick around and you shall see."

I wanted to say, "I'll come back if you do," but I just couldn't bring myself to be so bold. But it didn't matter; he seemed to hear my thoughts.

"I'm not going anywhere," the buoyant General vowed. "This is not good-bye."