gorodetsky – russia between east and west

RUSSIA BETWEEN EAST AND WEST

The Cummings Center for Russian and East European StudiesThe Cummings Center SeriesRUSSIA BETWEEN EAST AND WESTRussian Foreign Policy on the Threshold ofthe Twenty-first CenturyEditor: Gabriel Gorodetsky

THE CUMMINGS CENTER FOR RUSSIANAND EAST EUROPEAN STUDIES

TEL AVIV UNIVERSITYThe Cummings Center is Tel Aviv University’s main framework forresearch, study, documentation and publication relating to the history andcurrent affairs of Russia, the former Soviet republics and Eastern Europe.The Center is committed to pursuing projects which make use of fresharchival sources and to promoting a dialogue with Russian academiccircles through joint research, seminars and publications.

THE CUMMINGS CENTER SERIESThe titles published in this series are the product of original research bythe Center’s faculty, research staff and associated fellows. The CummingsCenter Series also serves as a forum for publishing declassified Russianarchival material of interest to scholars in the fields of history and politicalscience.

EDITOR-IN-CHIEFGabriel Gorodetsky

EDITORIAL BOARDMichael ConfinoIgal HalfinShimon NavehYaacov Ro’iNurit Schleifman

MANAGING EDITORDeena Leventer

RUSSIA BETWEEN EASTAND WEST

RUSSIAN FOREIGN POLICY ONTHE THRESHOLD OF THETWENTY-FIRST CENTURY

EDITOR:

GABRIEL GORODETSKY

FRANK CASSLONDON • PORTLAND, OR

First published in 2003 in Great Britain byFRANK CASS PUBLISHERSCrown House, 47 Chase Side

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British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

Russia between East and West: Russian foreign policy on the threshold of thetwenty-first century—(The Cummings Center series)

1. Russia (Federation)—Foreign relationsI. Gorodetsky, Gabriel, 1945—II. Cummings Center for Russian and East

European Studies327.4′7′04′009049

ISBN 0-203-49927-1 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-58389-2 (Adobe eReader Format)ISBN 0-7146-5329-2 (Print Edition) (cloth)

ISBN 0-7146-8393-0 (paper)ISSN 1365-3733

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Russia between East and West: Russian foreign policy on the threshold of thetwenty-first century/edited by G.Gorodetsky.

p. cm.—(Cummings Center series)Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 0-7146-5329-2 (cloth)1. Russian (Federation)—Foreign relations. I. Gorodetsky, Gabriel, 1945.

II. Series.DK510.764 R853 2003327.47′009′049–dc21

2002041576

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in orintroduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means,electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior

written permission of the publisher of this book.

Contents

List of Abbreviations viii

IntroductionGabriel Gorodetsky

x

Part I: A Great Power in Transition Faces Globalization

1. The New Russia and the New World OrderL.N.Klepatskii

2

2. The Securitization of Russian Foreign Policy underPutinBobo Lo

11

3. The Transformation of Russia’s Military Doctrine inthe Aftermath of Kosovo and ChechnyaAlexei Arbatov

27

4. After the Empire: Russia’s Emerging InternationalIdentityDmitri Trenin

32

5. Putin’s Foreign Policy after 11 September. Radical orRevolutionary?Alex Pravda

37

Part II: Russia’s Road into Europe

6. Russia and the Dual Expansion of EuropeMargot Light, John Löwenhardt and Stephen White

56

7. Russia’s Place in European DefenceAlyson J.K.Bailes

70

8. Russian Strategic Uncertainty in an Era of US TacticalIntrusivenessAlvin Z.Rubinstein

81

Part III: A Northern Passage

9. Opportunities and Challenges for Russia in the—Baltic RegionPavel K.Baev

92

10. Northern Europe: A New Web of RelationsIngmar Oldberg

104

Part IV: The Southern Tier and the Middle East

11. Russian Policy in the CIS under PutinS.Neil MacFarlane

117

12. The Security Dimension of Russia’s Policy in SouthCentral AsiaLena Jonson

124

13. The Role of Islam in Russia’s Relations with CentralAsiaYaacov Ro’i

141

14. Russia in the Middle East: The Yeltsin Era and BeyondOded Eran

152

Part V: Rethinking the Far East

15. Russia between Europe and Asia: Some Aspects ofRussia’s Asian PolicyMikhail G.Nosov

163

16. Putin’s Foreign Policy: Transforming ‘the East’Richard Sakwa

166

Notes on Contributors 187

Index 190

vii

List of Abbreviations

ABM anti-ballistic missileAPEC Asia-Pacific Economic CooperationASEAN Association of South East Asian NationsBEAC Barents Euro-Arctic CouncilBMD ballistic missile defenceCBSS Council of Baltic Sea StatesCESDP Common European Security and Defence PolicyCFE Conventional Forces in EuropeCFSP Common Foreign and Security PolicyCIS Commonwealth of Independent StatesCMEA(COMECON)

Council for Mutual Economic Assistance

CPRF Communist Party of the Russian FederationCPSU Communist Party of the Soviet UnionEAPC Euro-Atlantic Partnership CouncilEMU European Monetary UnionEU European UnionFIS Foreign Intelligence ServiceFSB Federal Security ServiceFSU former Soviet UnionGNP gross national productGUAM Georgia, Ukraine, Azerbaijan, MoldovaGUUAM Georgia, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan, MoldovaKGB Committee of State SecurityKRO Congress of Russian CommunitiesNACC North Atlantic Cooperation CouncilNATO North Atlantic Treaty Organization

NMD National Missile DefenceOPEC Organization of Petroleum Exporting CountriesORT state Russian television stationOSCE Organization for Security and Cooperation in EuropePCA Partnership and Cooperation AgreementPfP Partnership for Peace R&D research and developmentRRF Rapid Reaction ForceSEV Council of Economic AssistanceSTART Strategic Arms Reduction Talks/TreatyTACIS Technical Assistance to the CISTMD Theater Missile DefenceUN United NationsWEAG Western European Armaments GroupWEU West European UnionWMD weapons of mass destructionWTO World Trade Organization

ix

Introduction

The challenge facing Russia in establishing its new identity bears directlyon its foreign policy. The forging of Russian foreign policy reflects thesearch for identity and an attempt to reconcile traditional national interestswith the newly emerging social and political entity. This process is impededby constraints, imposed by the exigencies of a diffuse New World Order,where contradictory forces such as globalization, regionalism and USunilateralism seem to reign.

The prevalent tendency prior to 11 September 2001 had been to dismissRussia as a Third World nation and to write it off as a major player on theinternational scene. Scepticism about Russia’s capabilities emanated frominherent systemic failings, exposed during the demise of the Soviet Unionand the subsequent arduous transition from communism. Yet, the countryis blessed with tremendous human talent and virtually unparalleled naturalresources. From the geopolitical point of view, even in its reduced state,Russia still covers vast spaces bearing directly on Europe, the Near Eastand the Far East. Finally, it is no secret that Russia stockpiles over 20,000nuclear warheads and maintains probably the largest arsenals of chemicaland biological weapons in the world. Hence, the conclusion that Russialacks the means of maintaining great-power status is highly premature.Paying heed to Russia’s own perception of its international status is thereforeas vital as exploring its immediate capabilities.

This collection of essays attempts to track the mechanism of Russianforeign policy in the transition period, through a comparative study ofcontinuity and change in the policies executed by Russia in diverse conflict-ridden regions. Such a study unveils modes of behaviour and fixed patternsin the conduct of foreign policy, which enable the reader to extrapolatelessons applicable from one arena to the other. The spatial aspect is astriking element in the conduct of Russian foreign policy and warrants acomparative study. The vast and varied cultural and physical spaces whichconstitute Russia’s spheres of interest dictate that different frames of mindbe applied in devising a policy. Little has been done in that direction, asattention is usually drawn to a conflict region when it is already in the eyeof the storm. The analysis in this volume of the Japanese, north-west

European, Middle Eastern and central Asian examples is therefore vital fora better understanding of the multidimensional features of Russian foreignpolicy.

The authors of the chapters, all leading academics or prominentpractitioners, conduct a comparative study of Russia’s relations with theWest and the East in an attempt to establish whether the traces of the ColdWar are fading from Russian military and political thinking. They seek toestablish the extent to which Russian foreign policy has undergone agenuine metamorphosis. The book further attempts to detect those forcesand values which have been filling the vacuum. Most contributors to thepresent volume share the assumption that, despite the semblance of chaosand sporadic whims, Russian foreign policy, covering a vast geographicalentity, is well coordinated. The emerging consensus is that the legacy of thepast—be it ‘Imperial’ or ‘Communist’—weighs heavily on the execution ofcontemporary Russian foreign policy. This legacy pertains both to theRussian perception of its own position in world affairs and to the way therest of the world views Russia. In both cases, relations continue to becoloured by lingering preconceived ideas.

The cornerstone of Russia’s foreign policy remains the relations with itsformer adversary, the USA, though those relations may well be reflected inMoscow’s attitude towards third parties. The process of redefining and re-establishing Russia’s statehood mitigates first and foremost the regulationof relations with the new independent states of the former Soviet Union.Russia’s immediate spheres of influence (now termed ‘the near abroad’)have always been the focal point of its national interests. The intriguingissues addressed by the present volume question the extent to which thenew Russian entity is prepared willingly to abandon its historicalirredentist ambitions. What are the chances for the CIS (Commonwealth ofIndependent States) to turn into an effective strategic alignment? WillRussia forsake vital economic and strategic interests (mostly oil), in theCaucasus, or in the Black Sea region, and condone the gradual Westernencroachment into the region?

The various contributors illustrate how domestic and international issuesintertwine in relations with the CIS. They emphasize how vital it is forRussia to prevent ethnic, economic and social unrest in this area fromspilling over into the mainland. Confronting the unchallenged pivotalglobal power of the USA, Russia may well be tempted, even after 11September, to forge new alliances, mostly in the Eurasian subcontinent, tocounterbalance the Atlantic alliance in an attempt to restore its status as amajor power. The Balkans and the Caucasus are indeed the arenas whereRussia has already chosen to flex its muscles. Its policies in Iraq and Iran,often at variance with those of the USA, strongly suggest the perseveranceof power politics dictated by an age-old legacy of Russian nationalinterests. Various chapters in the book lay bare the same tendency by

INTRODUCTION xi

focusing on Russia’s stratagem in the rarely discussed spheres of northernEurope and the Far East.

The universally declining power of the nation-state and the increasinglydefused open borders, marking the so-called age of globalization, hardlyseem to touch Russia. Russia’s spatial immensity, further accentuated by theintricate fabric of a markedly multi-ethnic society, continue to determinethe principles governing Russian foreign policy. These are solidly rooted ingeopolitical and geocultural premises. The apparent contradictions in theexecution of Russian foreign policy and the tension entailed relate to itsspatial vastness: the need to control this enormous space, which has a lowand uneven population density. Those conditions, fixed and unyielding, arefurther complicated by the boundless extent of its peripheries. Thus thelegacy of the past is anchored in fixed geopolitical conditions. Thehistorical legacy denotes a dynamic reciprocal dialogue between the powerof the state and the territory. The reintroduction of imperial as well asSoviet symbols and language, coupled with the restoration of enduringnational interests and great-power status, are all part and parcel of theattempt to refurbish a national identity, and they bear directly on theconduct of foreign policy. If there is any persistent characteristic in Russianforeign policy it seems to be historical consciousness.

The recourse to symbols of statehood, for instance, lies at the heart ofthe war in Chechnya, the aim of which is to reinstate the indivisibleRussian Federation. The legitimization for the war is typically presentedwithin the historical context of Russian national interests. The second warin Chechnya in 1999 is linked by Arbatov, for instance, to the events inKosovo earlier that year. That war is seen in Moscow as an expression ofhidden Western agendas rather than a fulfilment of a sublime universalmission. The war in Kosovo best illustrates both the aspirations and theconstraints of Russian foreign policy. It highlights the continuedsignificance attached by Moscow to traditional interests, and particularlythe predominance of the concept of spheres of influence. At the same timeit also validates the limits of Russia’s capability for executing a moredynamic, resolute and independent policy. The war was a painfulawakening for the Kremlin. The remaining illusions about a benign NewWorld Order dissipated. Various moments during the war weredangerously reminiscent of the Cold War. Yeltsin even accused the West ofwishing to turn Yugoslavia into a ‘protectorate’. Grave from Moscow’sstandpoint was the realization that the war might set a dangerousprecedent in international affairs, which would permit US intervention inthe domestic affairs of sovereign states while bypassing the United Nations,where Russia still enjoys its postwar status as a major power. VariousRussian initiatives during the war—especially the dispatch of the Black Seafleet to the Adriatic Sea and stealing a march on NATO through a bolddash of Soviet special forces to the airport of Kosovo’s capital, Prishcina—

xii RUSSIA BETWEEN EAST AND WEST

were ecstatically welcomed in Moscow. There were also open expressionsof satisfaction at the controversy which the bombing campaign hadaroused in Europe.

Another case in point is the Nordic—Baltic region discussed by Baev andOldberg. The most promising prospects in the Nordic—Baltic area appearto be in the economic, communications/information, social/ecologicalspheres and other non-state-levels of interaction—often described as the‘soft security’ field—reflecting the spirit of globalization. But these twoscholars suggest that Putin emerges as a hardliner, a security-orientedleader, with clear preferences for various ‘instruments of power’ rangingfrom the secret services to nuclear submarines.

It goes without saying that, on the economic level, the natural resourcesof the southern tier of central Asia and the Caucasus are extremelyattractive to the Russians, notably in the Caspian Basin. MacFarlane,however, argues that security considerations predominate in the Russianapproach. He points out that the strategic environment surrounding theRussian Federation is widely perceived to be hostile and potentiallythreatening. Russia therefore has important security concerns at stake inneighbouring states. MacFarlane defines these as ‘spillover’ of localconflicts, such as refugees, waves of immigration, terrorism and thepossible impact of local trends, such as Islamic revival, which mightdestabilize particular regions of Russia. The situation is further exacerbatedby the fact that the neighbouring countries are far too weak to handlethose issues on their own. Thus, the southern countries serve as a bufferzone with respect to Islamic radicalism, while the western ones act as anobstacle to Europe’s extension of NATO.

Although the term derzhavnost’—an aspiration for a strong state andgreat-power status—is neither fashionable nor ‘politically correct’, anddoes not conform to the spirit of ‘globalization’, the Moscow elite does, forthe most part, perceive itself to be the heir to a great power. Seen throughRussian rather than Western eyes, the romantic liberal vision of foreignpolicy, subjugating Russian interests for the sake of a moral global scheme—the ‘great experience’ of Gorbachev—is seen as a reckless one. Bobo Lo,a keen observer in Moscow of Russian foreign policy in the making,unequivocally recognizes ‘the primacy of political-military over economicpriorities’. He warns, however, that fluidity of policy in the absence of along-term strategic view causes experts to attribute significance to eventswhich might have only passing import, but which conform to preconceivednotions of Russian foreign policy. Trenin and liberals akin to his thinkingin Moscow are haunted by the legend of the phoenix rising from the ashes.Although they would wish to see Moscow’s foreign policy ambitions scaleddown, they witness their leaders championing an anti-universalisticagenda.

INTRODUCTION xiii

The Russian damage control policy, dictated by American hegemonicpower and the geopolitical assets lost at the end of the Cold War, drive hercloser to Europe. Even that is not a rigid principle but rather a pragmaticreactive procedure. Indeed, when advantageous circumstances arise, suchas 11 September, priority is assigned to cooperation with the hegemonicpower. Europe is in no way the haven sought by the Russians. Theirexclusion from key institutions on the continent only brings out the geo-cultural differences between Europe, the near abroad and Russia. The starkcontrasts between neighbouring states and accession states are likely toincrease as the transformation and integration process into Westernorganizations accelerates. Asymmetry is bound to be accentuated as asource of conflict which could spill over into the heart of Europe. Many ofthe writers here point out the fallacies of Western policies, which not onlyfail to address Russian sensitivities but also perpetuate enduringpreconceived ideas and prevent the Cold War from being brought to agenuine end.

Most analysts in the present volume concur that the evolution of Russianforeign policy has been proceeding from idealistically unqualifiedWesternism to realistic pragmatic nationalism. The fanciful, brief,innovative attempt to obliterate the Soviet legacy has slipped into a farmore modest ambition of reconciling with the burden of the past. Seenfrom the Russian vantage point, this is perfectly understandable,particularly in the wake of 11 September. Consequently, the notion thathigh politics and military security have been replaced by the benign lowerpolitics of wealth and welfare is seriously challenged. Faced by the chronicdilemma of whether to toss away the legacies of the past and move forwardtowards a somewhat utopian ‘brave new world’, the geopolitical view ofpolitics, with its pressing constraints but also vast potential rewards, seemsto prevail. The systemic in-built tension between the vision and the legacy,between persisting geopolitical and geo-cultural features and changinguniversal values, mirrors the uncertainty related to the process of forging aRussian national identity. The paradox of the state striving ceaselessly toregain and retain great-power status while resting on fragile foundationsand seeking to accommodate ‘Western values’ remains unresolved. Thisdilemma explains perhaps what Alex Pravda rightly detects as the absenceof a long-term strategy in Putin’s foreign policy.

In the interim period of coping with the tremendous task of restoring thenation-state, the Russians have been shying away from thebipolar confrontation while advocating multipolarity—as clearly emergesfrom Klepatskii’s chapter. Multipolarity envisages an international systemwhich is essentially not antagonistic and is dominated by a limited numberof poles, without any one pole possessing absolute power. Multipolarityfurther appeals to the Russians because it allows them to avoid a Eurasiansolution or the centuries’ old debate on Russia’s position between East and

xiv RUSSIA BETWEEN EAST AND WEST

West. Multipolarity, though, is far from being a sacred principle. In fact,after 11 September, when prospects of acting on a par with the Americansseemed viable, it almost vanished from the lexicon of the Kremlin. Whatseems to be more durable is the pursuit of national interests in thetraditional sense while, verbally at least, reaching an accommodation withglobalization, which is anyway regarded as a euphemism for unilateralism.

Seen from the Kremlin, globalization is an extraterritorial factor whichtranscends the state and may indeed be at times conducive to economicgrowth and an instrument of democratization. The Russians fully recognizethe fact that globalization exerts influence on national interests, and eventransforms their contents, particularly in the economic and financialspheres. But their fear is that globalization is often manipulated by the USAin order to further American national interests and mobilize internationalsupport for that purpose. While open to the economic benefits whichglobalization might entail, they are determined to prevent it fromeliminating or replacing national interests. The great challenge for Moscowis therefore to resolve the intrinsic tension between Russia’s continuedsearch for a dominant position in world affairs and a recognition of thepower of globalization—which seems to eat away at state sovereignty—inthe economic sphere. One solution which seems to emerge, at least for theintermediate period, is an attempt to function within the framework ofglobalization while solidifying relations on an inter-regional basis. The waragainst terror indeed created favourable conditions which allow theRussian to seek the construction of such regional blocs according to theirown vision. President Bush’s acceptance of Russia as a full ally into theunipolar structure after 11 September 2001 is perhaps the outcome of theparadigm outlined by Margot Light et al., according to which ‘there canbe no European security without Russia, nor is European security feasiblewithout the USA’. The proper mechanism for the inclusion of Russia withinthe workings of NATO must therefore be found. What remains to be seenin the long run is to what extent either the ideas of multipolarity or the fullincorporation of Russia in the unilateral system will be genuinely and fullyabsorbed in Moscow and to what extent Putin’s acquiescence is no morethan tactical, and a guise for the reinstatement of the old order based onspheres of influence and balance-of-power politics.

The process of forging a new Russian national identity is a sine qua nonfor a definition of Russia’s role in the New World Order. Paradoxically,the process of nation building is aggravated by the newly achieved libertiesin Russia, which inflame a vociferous debate and elude consensus. Thepublic is living in a bleak present: split over the interpretation of pastaspirations as well as over a definition of future expectations. The obviouschange in policy, since Putin’s assumption of power, however, is a responseto the popular notion that some sort of stability and conformity is

INTRODUCTION xv

necessary for the population to rally behind a national leadership, and thatonly then will the world be able to relate to Russia again as a major power.

Nation building in Russia is thus affected by external and domesticfactors. In the West, the end of the Cold War, the dismembering of theSoviet empire, and the subsequent slow and painful execution of economicreforms instilled a belief that Russia had been stripped of its potential roleas a major power in international politics for the coming decades.Financial and economic aid is therefore geared towards imposing on Russia‘Western’ ideas and bolstering social reconstruction which would continueto render it less imperialist, less militarized and less threatening to itsneighbours and the world. Even the proponents of cooperation withRussia, such as Professor Sacks, Former Deputy Secretary of State StrobeTalbott, Samuel R.Berger and Managing Director of the InternationalMonetary Fund Michel Camdessus, assumed that outfitting Russia with themantle of a ‘civic society’, through the introduction of market economy,would cause it to reconcile with the unipolar New World Order. In otherwords, help it to come to terms with its bankrupt position on theinternational arena. It has hardly escaped Moscow’s attention, of course,that the aid is not simple charity. It is rightly interpreted as a desire toexercise effective supervision over Russia’s nuclear arsenal and to ensurethat communism is not restored.

Gerhard Schroeder’s new Germany, the major creditor of Russia,increasingly finds itself the arbitrator of European affairs. During his firstvisit to Moscow, early in 1999, the Chancellor, like his Americancolleagues, conditioned any future assistance on the progress made in theprocess of democratization. When ‘democratization’ is applied to Russia, itoften denotes successful implementation of a free-market economy. Thiscontroversy is the keystone; a recurrent theme of the present volume. Somewriters argue that the economic factors inspire Russian foreign policy.‘Business’ has surely become a catchword in the execution of Russianforeign policy. Such an approach, however, seems to be confined to a small‘oligarchy’ running the major privatized companies such as Gazprom, thenewly formed oil giants Lukoil and Yuksi (which exceed some of the USA’slarger petroleum corporations in reserves), and Moscow-based banks suchas SBS-Agro, MOST, Menatep and Oneximbank. Lukoil, for instance, hasbeen a major factor in Russia’s accommodating policy towards Iraq. Thepolicy pursued of late by the IMF, Germany and, extremely vigorously, byJapan, of dangling a financial carrot in front of the Russians in anticipationof political dividends, is indeed very transparent. The ‘bait’ affects directlyonly the tip of the iceberg, the so-called oligarchy. But the oligarchy itself isconstrained in pursuing its economic agenda by what is conceived to beRussia’s national interests.

One of the erring tendencies has been the assumption that the chaos,characterizing the evolution of the democratization process, reflects a lack

xvi RUSSIA BETWEEN EAST AND WEST

of purpose. The majority of representatives in the Duma, with almost thesole exception of Yavlinsky’s liberals, are increasingly supportingnationalist agendas. Public opinion, as the Kosovo war and the second warin Chechnya demonstrate, follows a similar pattern. Rather paradoxically,almost a decade after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the nationalist moodseems to have been inflamed by the emergence of the so-called New WorldOrder, more specifically by US incursion into regions which Russia regardsas its own backyard.

Turning to the East, Sakwa suggests that the terms ‘East’ and ‘West’ maybe somewhat anachronistic. Japanese industrialization and marketeconomy is identified as the epithet of Western economic progress. On theother hand, European countries, as Nosov points out, must increasinglycontend with a blend of Asian, African and east European emigrations andcultural influences. Does the East—West division and the introduction ofthe term Eurasia connote a messianic role for Russia, reflecting a deep-rooted philosophy? Or is it a convenient pragmatist standpoint? Sakwaproposes that the East should not be defined within the context of thetraditional schism between the Slavophiles and the Westerners. As the Westseems to be dominated by the USA or Europe, the East offers Russia morepossibilities of maintaining its status as a major power. Rather thanhanging on to the ideological tenets of the nineteenth-century debate, theEast can be constructed on the basis of a rational consensus, anti-universalism and multilateralism. And yet, as becomes clear from thisvolume, Russia predominantly continues to seek association with the West.Even from the economic point of view, its trade with Asian countries, asNosov reveals, is less than 10 per cent of its overall turnover, whileRussia’s share of Asian trade does not exceed 1 per cent. In fact, anyattempt to divert Russia to the East immediately sounds an alarm inMoscow. The centuries’ old fear of isolation continues to haunt the mindof the rulers in the Kremlin.

The collapse of the Soviet Union was by no means, as Gorbachev wouldlike us to assume today, an orderly and inevitable affair. His retrospectiverationale is laden with idealistic and moralist notions, aimed at replacingthe clearly obsolete ideology while discarding the enduring and soundtraditional premises of ‘national interests’. It is indeed most doubtfulwhether, within the framework of Perestroika, the unification of Germany,and the withdrawal from the Baltic and the Black Sea littoral wereenvisaged, not to mention the secession of the southern republics. Thehasty, and in many ways irresponsible, dismantling of the empire createdvast anomalies. The virtual abandoning of the highly strategic hold overthe Baltic littoral created a real conundrum. Throughout Stalin’s reign theSoviet Union secured the integration of the region into the Union through amassive influx of Russian citizens. The deliberate colonization actually

INTRODUCTION xvii

reduced Latvia’s indigenous population to 52 per cent by 1991, with similarpercentages in Estonia.

Russia’s attitude to the Baltic region, Ukraine, Black Sea and the Balkans,on the one hand, and to the Kurile Islands in Far East, on the other hand,will remain the ‘litmus test’ for the course negotiated by Russian foreignpolicy. Russia’s successful return to great-power status will be determinedby the pace and effectiveness of economic reforms, the politicalregroupings, the establishment of functioning constitutional balances, andthe ability to cope with regional conflicts (mostly in the Caucasus). Themethods the Russians use to regain their status in the vital geographicaltriangle, formed by the Pacific Ocean, the Black Sea and the Baltic Sea, willbe decided by domestic and foreign policy factors: at home by the nature ofthe political and economic reconstruction to emerge out of the transitionperiod; in the international arena, through the ability to redefine itsrelations with the ‘near abroad’, Europe, the USA, Japan and China,hopefully by peaceful means based on mutual trust. The success of such apolicy depends to a large extent on the will and ability of the USA torecognize and accommodate Russia’s long-term interests, based essentiallyon its geopolitical disposition. The Kremlin for its part would need todecide whether to resort to force and bellicose alliances or to achieve itsaims through diplomatic and economic means. On top of querying theobjectives of Russia’s foreign policy, attention is therefore drawn in thebook to the modus operandi which it chooses to employ.

And yet, overlooking the ponderous weight of the past, and the ease withwhich it could be recruited to sustain a nationalist line, could becalamitous. The off-handed fashion in which the Americans have imposedtheir new global dominance will surely produce a backlash in the long run.Signs of that were clearly discerned in various European capitals during thewar in Kosovo. A quick glimpse at both Western and Russian newspaperswill show that mutual suspicion lingers. The legacy of the past is never toofar from the surface. It hardly comes as a surprise to find that the Russiansperceive the US bombing of Iraq as a violation of the agreement of the anti-ballistic missile defence treaty signed by Moscow and Washington in 1972.The war in Kosovo, accentuated by political instability at home, furtherrekindled that suspicion. Likewise, the inclusion of Poland andCzechoslovakia in NATO generated much resentment in Moscow.

The key for understanding Russia’s aims, either in the Middle East, thesouthern tier or the Far East, is by relating them to Russia’s broader view ofinternational affairs. Their foreign policy may appear chaotic and senselessat times if examined in isolation, but the Russian encroachment into theseregions often diverges from the main axis of Russian-American relations. Attimes it may be a reaction to the extension of NATO, regarded as aflagrant challenge to Russia’s security assets. Indeed, the extension ofNATO and the failure to activate the NATO—Russia Council preoccupies

xviii RUSSIA BETWEEN EAST AND WEST

Russian policy makers and is constantly in the headlines. NATO’sexpansion to the East is perceived as a blatant American attempt to divideEurope by lowering a new ‘iron curtain’. Even politicians like Yavlinskywere quick to spring to the defence of the government’s decision to use aniron fist in dealing with the uprisings in Dagestan. The marriage ofconvenience celebrated by the Americans and the Russians once the waragainst terror was launched could hardly blur this antagonism. TheAmerican resort to ad hoc alliances, using NATO as its main policing force,often on Russia’s borders, was perceived in Moscow as proof that ‘theworld was descending into dictatorship and arbitrary rule’. But threats onother borders may well promote similar reactions.

Rubinstein argues unequivocally that the extension of NATO is not onlydisastrous for the conciliation of Russia in the future but actually is adetriment to the USA’s own interests. Light et al. agree that the extensionclearly marks the creation of a divide. But even in that case it remains to beseen whether NATO, currently undergoing a metamorphosis, will emergeas a US-dominated contrivance or, as the Russians hope, as a secondaryforce in a more traditional coalition structure. The impotence of NATO inthe recent war against terrorism in Afghanistan seems to encourage theRussians. As Trenin correctly points out, there is a prevalent tendency inRussia to contrast ‘the good West of Europe/EU’ with the ‘bad West ofAmerica/NATO’. NATO is considered to be an instrument of US foreignpolicy, and one of the chief means by which the USA intends to achieveunipolarity.

Eran underscores the continuity in Russian Middle Eastern politics whichis manifested in an increasing involvement with its southern ‘near abroad’and the southern tier of Turkey and Iran rather than the Israeli—Palestinian conflict. Whether this is an indication of the priorities set nowon economics, as the author suggests, or whether political and securityconsiderations remain predominant, is indeed debatable. At an early stage,during the Gulf War in winter 1991, Russia assumed the role of a mediator(alas unsuccessfully). Since then, Russia has been a champion of attemptsto pass a resolution in the Security Council which would lead to lifting thesanctions imposed on Iraq. In summer 2002, while Bush was in the midst ofcontemplating a second campaign against Iraq and seeking internationalsupport within the scope of the war against terrorism, the Russianshastened to conclude an extensive economic agreement with Iraq.

A no less significant arena, from the Russian point of view, is Iran.Russian politicians never tire of justifying their efforts to forge specialrelations with Iran, regardless of the nature of the regime there, even if itplaces them on a collision course with the Americans. The need to pacifyRussia’s southern tier and prevent any turmoil from spilling over into thesouthern republics, heavily populated by Muslims, is an overwhelmingRussian interest. Likewise it is vital for them, as the recent events in

INTRODUCTION xix

Chechnya and Dagestan have proven, to contain fundamentalist Iranianinfluence on the southern CIS through conciliation. Some sort of alignmentwith Iran is also sought in an effort to check the growing Turkish influencein that region. Moreover, many of Russia’s future energy resources are tiedto the Near East and the Caucasus. Russia has been investing massively inIran, not only in the transfer of ballistic missile technology (which hasintroduced a sour note into their relations with Israel); similar effort hasalso been directed to the construction of nuclear power stations and jointprojects executed through Gazprom and local companies, aimed atdeveloping the natural gas region near Isfahan. Similarly ambitious is theconstruction of pipelines transporting oil from Turkmenistan throughIranian territory. Other economic projects, though not on a comparablescale, have been developed with Iraq and Syria. Amicable relations withIran are not only vital for economic and domestic reasons but aremotivated by considerations of a traditional balance of power. The returnof Russia to the Middle East, shortly after Evgenii Primakov’s appointmentas Foreign Minister in 1995, did not mark a regression but rather stabilityand the re-emergence of geopolitics and nationalism as the compass ofRussian foreign policy. The Middle East and the Israeli-Arab conflict lie,therefore, just outside the realm of more vital Near Eastern interests. Theparticipants in the conflict served for decades as pawns in a Cold War‘battlefield’, which vanished almost overnight. Nonetheless, as long asRussia feels that the new global order is dictated in an arbitrary fashion bythe USA, encroaching on Russian interests, its presence is likely topersevere. Paradoxically, Russia, in a permanent state of turmoil andon the verge of bankruptcy succeeds, nonetheless, in punching its weight inthe international arena.

The traditional Russian practice of dressing intrinsic national interests inan ideological cloak has contributed much to diffusing the rational andfixed elements in Soviet and Russian foreign policy. It has deprivedWestern politicians and historians alike from recognizing the unmistakablecontinuity characterizing Russia’s policies. The end of the Cold War—a warwhich in retrospect seems to have been merely a passing episode intwentieth-century history—has proved the relativism of ideology anddemonstrates the need to come to terms with history. Notions of space andgeopolitics, applied to conflicts concerning overlapping interests orregional ethnic issues and manipulated through the instruments of balance-of-power politics, seem to remain the modus operandi for the execution ofRussian foreign policy.

Gabriel GorodetskyTel Aviv, 2003

xx RUSSIA BETWEEN EAST AND WEST

Part I:

A Great Power in Transition FacesGlobalization

1The New Russia and the New World Order

L.N.KLEPATSKII

In the aftermath of the Cold War the structure of international relations isin a state of transformation, and the nature of the New World Orderremains an open question. The international community can and mustdetermine the path it intends to take. One can only hope that its choicewill correspond to the changes taking place in international relations.

Russian policy envisages a multipolar path for the evolution ofinternational relations. This idea is reflected in a range of documents, suchas the new version of the National Security Doctrine (approved by thePresident of the Russian Federation on 10 January 2000). The principle ofmultipolarity has, consequently, been adopted as the official doctrine ofRussian foreign policy. This particular orientation took shape gradually.Although the idea of ‘polycentrism in international policy’ was expressedas early as 1993, in the foreign policy doctrine developed under ForeignMinister Andrei Kozyrev, practical conclusions were never drawn.

It should be noted that Russian political scientists do not share a uniformview of multipolarity. Arguments can be heard that multipolarity is notonly incorrect but even harmful to Russia’s national interests; that itcorresponds to the realities of world development even less than the idea ofUS leadership; that it does not provide a complete picture of thecontemporary world; that it establishes false guidelines, and so forth. Thesedivergent opinions and assessments can be explained mostly by the factthat the problems of the evolution of international relations since the endof the Cold War have been insufficiently studied. But, on the whole,analysis of the various points of view on this topic shows that theopponents of multipolarity are unable to raise serious objections to amultipolar world system. By and large the matter comes down todisagreements over Russia’s foreign policy orientation: some propose a tilttowards the West, others towards Asia, and yet others, towards the USA.

Meanwhile, a multipolar world system is already a reality. In fact, it alsoexisted during the period of bipolarity, but at that time the entire diversityof world development was reduced to the formula of ‘class’ relationsbetween the two military-political blocs and their leaders. As soon as

bipolarity vanished from the stage of world politics, the role of nationalinterests acquired a remarkable new significance. Many states belonging tostructures whose existence had been dictated by the logic of confrontationbetween the two blocs found themselves in an awkward position. Theshadows of the past gradually disappeared leading to an erosion of theformer single-bloc orientation. It is no longer possible to realize nationalinterests within the framework of one bloc alone. This is especially true forlarge states, of which Russia is one.

Multipolarity is created, first and foremost, by economic, military andpolitical factors rather than by global cultural diversity, which is linkedmore with civilizational than with ‘polar’ traits. Secondly, it takes intoaccount, de facto, both the established centres of gravity and influence thathave formed in international relations and the newly emerging ‘poles’ atthe regional and sub-regional levels. Thirdly, multipolarity not only‘continues’ history but also responds to globalization and its consequencesfor international relations. Fourthly, it opens up prospects fordemocratization and the humanization of international relations.

Multipolarity can therefore be seen not just as another ideologicalscheme but also as an objective condition of international relations, whichgradually ripened even at the height of the Cold War but which becameclearly manifested only after its end. Therefore, multipolarity represents anentirely realistic perspective for the further evolution of the contemporaryworld.

Contemporary international relations in the epoch of globalization coulddevelop along a variety of potential paths. This is also true of the possibleconfigurations of multipolarity. One determining factor is globalization,which is changing the economic, social, cultural and informationalenvironment of human life. On the one hand, it leads to increasinginterdependency among countries with regard to practically all aspects oftheir national interests. On the other hand, the vulnerability of countries toexternal factors in their quest to ensure stable and progressive developmentis becoming ever more apparent. Therefore, the state of the internationalarena has become, as never before, a major challenge to nation-states.

It should be noted that the collapse of the bipolar structureof international relations and the concurrent process of globalization hascreated a qualitatively new situation in international relations andgenerated numerous problems that require either new analysis ormodification of previous interpretations. In particular, the question of thesubjects of international relations requires a new analysis. There seem toexist other players in world affairs besides the state. Non-governmentalorganizations and multinational corporations are playing an increasinglyprominent role. Their very existence serves to democratize internationallife. The number of regional organizations of various types is growing, as istheir influence on events on the regional level and beyond. Therefore there

THE NEW RUSSIA AND THE NEW WORLD ORDER 3

is a need for non-traditional approaches to the formation of politicaldoctrines for a modern world system that address the conditions of thetwenty-first century.

Moreover, we should bear in mind that globalization and the furtherevolution of international relations are mutually intertwined, butnonetheless independent, processes. Each has its own roots and its owninternal driving forces of development. At the root of internationalrelations lie the national interests of states. Globalization exerts aninfluence on national interests, transforms their content, particularly in theeconomic and financial spheres, but in no way eliminates or replaces them.It does not eliminate the disparity between national interests, but ratherseeks their compatibility and consolidation in pursuit of security andstability. It would be a serious mistake to ignore the autonomy of these twoprocesses. This remark is necessary, since there are attempts to dissolveinternational relations in the wake of globalization, on the assumption thatthe latter is the totally dominant trend.

One of the positive consequences of globalization is the growing range ofpossibilities that states have for pursuing their national interests asmembers of the world community. Previous limitations on choice aredisappearing and there is an increasing diversification of political andeconomic ties. This is apparent even among members of military-politicalalliances. The emerging multipolarity provides broad opportunities fornational-political autonomy beyond the determining force of economicfactors. Hence, when speaking of multipolarity, it should be rememberedthat states have new possibilities for realizing their national interests. Andyet, it should be borne in mind that globalization can also lead to themanipulation and distortion of the transformation that is taking place in theworld community.

The process of globalization is developing unevenly, and this is mostapparent in the formation of integrated economic ‘poles’ characterized by afairly high level of density of economic connections and complexinterdependency. It is precisely these poles that occupy the leading positionin the world economy today. Their existence and interaction provide thebasis for economic multipolarity in international relations. Therefore, whenthe USA is characterized as the sole superpower in the world, it should notbe forgotten that, for all its significance, its share of gross world productionis just over 20 per cent.

At the present time, several dozen integrated economic coalitions exist,with varying degrees of maturity. The most advanced is the framework ofthe European Union (EU), which has set itself the goal of forming a fullyfledged political entity and pole of international relations with a singlecurrency and economic, foreign and military policy. This will represent theconsolidated interests and functions of the member states of the EU. To a

4 RUSSIA BETWEEN EAST AND WEST

certain extent, we are witnesses to a unique historical experiment—thebirth in Europe of something like a new species of cooperative superpower.

The tendency towards integration on the regional and sub-regional levelsis a general feature of the development of international relations,particularly since the 1970s. Such integration qualitatively changes thestructure and orientation of international collaboration. Moreover, it iscompounded by the development of connections on the inter-coalition andinter-regional levels, as evidenced by the collaboration now gainingmomentum between the EU and Latin American integrated groups,between the regional organizations of Europe and Asia, Asia-Pacific andLatin America. World economic expansion will gradually take shape as aresult of the interaction among integrated unions.

The advantages of globalization are realized precisely on the level ofregions and integrated unions. At the same time, the integration of stateeconomies makes it possible to mitigate the negative aspects ofglobalization, since it is on this level that opportunities appear to createcooperative mechanisms for managing these processes and reducing thecosts of globalization for nation-states. Consequently, integrated unionsfulfil a clearly defensive function. On a global level, mechanisms have notyet emerged for the management of these processes, as demonstrated by thescale of the recent Asian economic crisis which dealt such a painful blow toRussia’s weak market economy. In other words, it is easier to implementmanagement strategies successfully on the level of integrated unions thanon either the national or the global level. Inter-regional ties can also beviewed in relation to the establishment of methods to regulate globalizationprocesses. It is clear that economic integration demands increasinglyintensive coordination between the actions of states in the political sphereas well.

In summing up this brief analysis of these phenomena, I would like toemphasize above all the regional scale of multipolarity, the integratedalliances that form its framework and their growing influence on thebehaviour of states. Their integrative and defensive functions shouldbe examined when considering the further evolution of contemporaryinternational relations.

Of course, not all existing economic groups can become world-classpoles, but their significance on the regional and sub-regional levels cannotbe ignored. Multipolarity in contemporary international relations meanstoday a limited number of poles, without any one pole possessing absolutepower. Let us look into the economic sphere of international relationswhich has changed fundamentally since the 1970s. Today in the economicsphere, the USA and the EU account for approximately 21 per cent each ofgross world production, while the share of Japan, China and ASEAN(Asssociation of South East Asian Nations) amounts to more than 20 percent. Prognoses suggest that, by 2015, the share of both the USA and the


EU will have diminished relatively, while the share of China and Japan willincrease along with that of the entire Asian group, whose share willamount to practically one-quarter of the gross world product.

In this arena, Russia is an insignificant force with slightly over 1.5 percent of gross world production. But this is a country with enormous,though as yet unrealized, potential, possessing 15–20 per cent of theworld’s estimated oil reserves, 42 per cent of its natural gas and 43 per centof its coal. In terms of its GNP, Russia falls between the tenth andtwentieth place among the most developed nations. However, the country’sintellectual property is assessed at US$400 billion and it has significantpotential in the area of high technology.

To economic can be added monetary multipolarity, which is already asalient tendency. Until recently, the world monetary system has been tied tothe American currency—more than half of world trading accounts aresettled in dollars, which has placed the USA in a significantly advantageousposition. However, the introduction by the EU of a single currency hasremoved this asymmetry, undermining the strategic position of the USAand narrowing the dollar’s ‘living space’. The consolidation of Asiancountries in the financial sphere could have farreaching consequences forthe American dollar. This is precisely what was demonstrated by theinitiative of the finance ministers of the ASEAN countries, the Republic ofKorea, Japan and China, at their meeting in Chiang Mai (Thailand), whichhas resulted in the establishment of an Asian monetary fund. As we see,even in this sphere of international financial and economic relations,monetary unipolarity is being eroded.

The USA has unequivocal hegemony in the military sphere and in thefield of high technology. At the same time, the EU’s determination toestablish its autonomous military potential is clearly aimed at overcomingjust this situation. The EU has also announced its intention to ‘catch up’with the USA in the sphere of high technology.

Naturally, there are other states apart from the USA that can be countedas relatively independent ‘poles’. States such as China, India, Russia and anumber of Latin American countries possess sufficient resources to ensuretheir own development (putting aside, for now, an assessment of thequality of this development, which is a separate topic), but even they donot shun various forms of integration with other states.

Of course, multipolarity in international relations does not mean thequest for some kind of ideal recipe or panacea for all the abundant threatsand misfortunes afflicting the human race. Nonetheless, only a multipolarworld system in all its diversity can provide a genuine framework forensuring the balance of interests among the participants in globalprocesses. The main point is not the number of poles but the very nature ofinternational relations, which cannot but reflect multipolarity. Specifically,multipolarity is incompatible with hegemony in international relations. It is


increasingly evident that the urge of a single state or group of countries todominate global politics and economics contradicts the fundamentalprinciples of contemporary international relations. In this sense,multipolarity is the obvious alternative in so far as it is based onconsideration of the national interests and sovereignty of states.

Therefore, when the Russian delegation proposed to the countries of theG8 its doctrine for peace in the twenty-first century, it proceeded from theassumption that the democratization of international relations should be aninextricable element of peace in the coming century. The affirmation andobservation of democratic norms and principles in internal state policy, theestablishment of a civil society, will undoubtedly have a beneficial influenceon international relations, but only on condition that democratic statesapply to international affairs the values that prevail in their own domesticaffairs. The use of military force and interference in the internal affairs ofsovereign states can hardly be included among these democratic values.

A theoretical analysis of multipolarity in international relations issignificant in and of itself, but it also has practical value: it should enablethe Russian government to determine the most appropriate parameters andguidelines for its foreign policy, ones that correspond to the country’snational interests and to all aspects of its security. Russia, and perhaps theother newly independent states of the former Soviet Union, enjoy a certainadvantage in this respect since they have turned out to be, as it were,strays. They are not part of the well-known political, economic andregional military and political structures and have preserved freedom ofmanoeuvre in their choice of foreign, political and economic inclinations.Indeed, the existing global political poles are engaged in fierce competitionfor the foreign policy orientation of Russia.

A country’s role cannot be reduced solely to economic factors. Russia,which in the 1990s has been in a state of political instability and economiccrisis, has somehow managed not to dissipate its weight in foreign policy.It has taken a stand as a firm advocate of preserving the principles ofcontemporary international law, maintaining the role of the UnitedNations in supporting peace and security, and strengthening strategicstability. Russia was supported in these aims by an overwhelming majorityof members of the international community.

In the context of globalization the concept of the ‘West’ should beexamined more closely. Are Japan, India, Malaysia and other growingeconomies also the West or do they remain nonetheless Eastern, Asiaticcounties? Previously, the geographical indicator dominated in determiningwhether a given country was East or West, but now globalization is erasingthe traditional boundaries between the two. We may recall the quiteeloquent recognition by US President Bill Clinton of India as the ‘world’slargest democracy’. The interweaving of traditional concepts into an analysis


of contemporary trends reflects the transitional state of internationalrelations.

It is obvious that a confrontational posture does not correspond in anyway to Russia’s national interests and security. But to ‘merge’ with abroadly conceived West guarantees absolutely nothing—there are enoughfaceless states there even without Russia. In the context of globalizationand a multipolar world, Russia cannot permit itself a one-sided orientationtowards only one pole. To choose the West or the East, Europe or Asia, isa false dilemma. Russia’s choice of a multipolar world system absolves itfrom the need for confrontation in a union with someone against someoneelse. Since such a necessity does not seem likely, at least in the next 15 to20 years, Russia can concentrate its efforts on resolving its domesticproblems, and foreign policy should provide the optimal conditions forthis.

Russia’s national interests are best served by willingness to collaboratewith all powers regardless of the continent on which they may be located.Naturally, however, priority should be given to those powers that arelocated in the European or Asian spheres and also to the USA—with regardto the first two, because of their geographical proximity and the intensityof the integrative processes taking place among them, which have a directinfluence on the degree of Russia’s integration into the world economy.The same is applicable to collaboration with the USA, to which can beadded the massive and multifaceted complex of military issues, whosemanagement depends on supporting and strengthening strategic stability.The Russian conception of multipolarity is sometimes described as anti-Americanism, but it would be just as logical to speak of the anti-Americanism of the EU, which considers itself a pole, not to mention anynumber of other ‘antis’. The experience of Russo-American relations overthe 1990s indicates that there is a wide variety of platforms forcollaboration. Russia’s negative reaction to a number of US actions in thearea of strategic stability—the use of military force to resolve internationalconflicts, ignoring the UN Charter along with the norms and principles ofinternational law—is shared by other countries. It should be kept in mindthat in the context of multipolarity and the transitional state ofinternational affairs, relations are shaped by a combination of balance ofpower and balance of interests, with the weight shifting towards the latterhalf of the equation. The element of force, while still significant, isnonetheless inadequate to deal with contemporary threats. Kosovo is anexample of this.

For Russia’s national interests and security, the optimal choice isbalanced openness which allows freedom for manoeuvre in foreign policy.This is especially important as Russia is a country much in demand, acountry that each of the poles wants to have on its own side. For example,in the framework of transatlantic relations two poles have taken shape: the


USA and the EU. It would be rash to opt for only one of the two; relationswith them should be balanced. This does not mean keeping an equaldistance or equal proximity. It means precisely a balance. Collaborationwith Asian countries and their regional organizations should be moreintensive than at present. This does not mean playing down relations withthe EU and other European states. Currently, 35–40 per cent of Russia’sforeign trade is already with the EU, and if the east European countries areincluded, the figure rises to over 50 per cent. This does not mean that thevolume of foreign trade with the EU should be reduced. The imbalancethat has developed can be corrected through more intensive cultivation oftrade and economic relations with Asian countries.

As one Russian political scientist has noted, Russia can raise its standingas one of the world powers, albeit not at the top rank, by broadeningcollaboration with the former Soviet republics, relations which naturallyhave a preferential character. In the 1990s, the Russian side lost theopportunity to become the ‘locomotive’ of economic integration. Inpractice, Russia has repeated the model of collaboration with the formerSoviet republics that was characteristic of the former Council of EconomicAssistance (SEV), when the USSR supplied fuel and raw materials at lowerthan world prices and received, in return, at inflated prices, industrialproducts of mediocre or even poor technical quality. This experience cannotbe ignored—its historical consequences are well known. TheCommonwealth of Independent States (CIS), which can be defined as aEurasian formation, has enormous potential to become a centre of gravity.Paradoxically, it has already become that, but only for the purpose of itsown disintegration.

Multipolarity is the salient democratic alternative in the development ofcontemporary international relations. A different path might be theexpansionist model of globalization, at the root of which is the acceptanceof the political, economic and technical leadership of the industriallydeveloped countries. However, the striving for hegemony in world politicsand economics on the part of a single country or group of countries canonly provoke resistance—open or concealed—on the part of other centresof influence. Hence there is a need for civilized rules of the game andbehaviour in international affairs. This is certainly possible. First, the worldcommunity, during its many years of evolution, has worked out a wholecompendium of principles and norms of international law to regulaterelations among states and their behaviour in world affairs. Secondly, therehas existed for half a century an organization that is the bearer andembodiment of these principles: the United Nations (UN). For all itsshortcomings and all the doubts about its effectiveness, it remains unique.In many respects there is no alternative to the UN as a mechanism formanaging the system of international relations today and in the long term.


Regional organizations play an ever greater role in the development ofcollaboration among states within their regions. In Europe there is theOrganization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), as well as anumber of sub-regional organizations both in the north and in the south ofthe continent. In Asia the potential of ASEAN and its regional securityforum (ARF) is growing. There are equivalent organizations in Africa andLatin America. In the conditions of globalization, cooperation between theUN and these regional organizations is becoming ever more necessary inorder to coordinate resistance to threats in the field of security and toestablish joint rules of conduct. In this way it will be possible to create apolitical superstructure of multipolarity in international relations.

It is precisely multipolarity in its various dimensions that presents a realplatform for ensuring the balance of interests among the participants inglobal processes. And for the new Russia and its Eurasian position, it is themultipolarity of international relations that can best serve its nationalinterests and promote its international security.


2The Securitization of Russian Foreign

Policy under Putin

BOBO LO

INTRODUCTION: THE CONTEXT OF FOREIGNPOLICY MAKING

When Vladimir Putin moved into the White House in January 2000,Russian foreign policy was in a state of rout. An anarchic institutionalclimate, several very high-profile setbacks—NATO enlargement, Iraq,Kosovo—and a severe deterioration in relations with the USA and majorwest European powers in the latter years of the Yeltsin administration hadgenerated an atmosphere marked by acute pessimism and a maximum ofresentment towards the West. In these unpromising circumstances, the newPresident faced multiple challenges: reestablishing Russia as a more or lesscredible international actor; restoring confidence in government decisionmaking; adopting more effective positions in defence of various nationalinterests; and placing Moscow’s relations with the West on a moreconstructive footing while ensuring that Russia retained its trumpselsewhere (developing ties with China, India and Iran). This chapter seeksto take preliminary stock of Putin’s conduct of Russian foreign policy. Itseeks to examine the extent to which Moscow’s approach to internationalrelations differs from that under Yeltsin. Can one speak about a distinctPutin style, or does the old French adage, plus ça change, plus c’est lamême chose (the more things change, the more they stay the same), holdtrue? What themes and concepts, if any, bind Russian foreign policy in thepost-Yeltsin era?

It must be acknowledged at the outset that the task of answering thesequestions is hardly straightforward. In particular, two critical problems ofanalysis come to mind. The first is the paradox that Putin’s activism—reflected in numerous high-level two-way visits—confuses rather thanclarifies the direction in which Russian foreign policy is heading. Putin hasyet to commit himself to a particular external philosophy or world view,and his comprehensively global approach has been designed, it seems, withthe express purpose of keeping open as many options as possible.Therefore, Putin’s years in office have been marked mostly by

familiarization and image projection, in which he has specifically tailoredmessages to different audiences and purposes. Thus, in meetings withEuropean leaders the emphasis has been on participation in pan-Europeanprocesses; relations with China and India have been dominated by themesof multipolarity, Eurasianism and ‘strategic partnership’; in the formerSoviet Union, a more activist Russian approach has derived impetus fromthe heightened profile of international terrorism and Islamic ‘extremism’;while the relationship with the USA continues to reflect traditionalpreoccupations such as ‘strategic stability’ and closer consultation ininternational conflict resolution. In such a fluid policymaking environment,there is a danger in over-interpreting signals, of seeing each visit,communiqué or policy development as indicative of a larger shift in foreignpolicy when it often simply reflects the concerns of the moment.Consequently, it is vital to adopt long-range views and to recognize theinfluence of political, geographical and institutional context on both thepresentation and substance of policy.

The necessity of standing above the fray, of seeing beyond the detail, isall the more critical given the second of our two problems: the unreliabilityof much of the so-called ‘evidence’. Not only is this frequentlycontradictory, but it also reflects a long tradition of official myth-making—what might be called the Potemkinization of foreign policy—dating back tothe time of Catherine the Great.1 Although the Soviet demise brought withit greater transparency in some areas of political activity, foreign policy hasremained an elite preserve, with correspondingly opaque decision-makingprocesses. In the post-Soviet era, policy documents such as the ForeignPolicy and National Security Concepts have been important less as ameaningful guide to action or as a conceptual framework than as anindicator of political fashion and a mechanism designed to reconcile—atleast in public—sharp contradictions among competing sectoral interests. Bytheir very nature, such documents have been intended to present a pictureof harmony and strategic vision. In examining Putin’s foreign policy,therefore, one needs to beware of interpreting declared policy as necessarilyreflecting actual intentions and commitments. It is one thing for thegovernment to describe a particular issue as a top priority, quite anotherfor such rhetoric to translate into substance; indeed, the vehemence ofofficial utterances and a surface ‘activism’ have frequently acted in the pastas surrogates for genuine action. Given these circumstances, it is especiallyimportant to focus on practical policy outcomes. While not foolproof, theyremain by far the most reliable guide to administration thinking.

FOUR DIMENSIONS OF SECURITIZATION

Unlike Yeltsin’s reign, Putin’s approach to international affairs has beenascribed various traits, ranging from more Eurocentric,2 more ‘Eastern’


(i.e. more globalist and less Westerncentric),3 more confrontational,4 morefocused on internal priorities,5 more ‘economic’,6 and so forth. Thecontention in this chapter is somewhat different, although it borrowselements from other attempts at conceptualization. It argues that the mostsignificant strategic feature of Russian foreign policy since Putin’s comingto power has been its ‘securitization’. It implies, first and most obviously,the primacy of political—military over economic priorities.Notwithstanding talk about the latter’s increasing importance, old-style or‘hard’ security interests remain at the top of Moscow’s external agenda.Moreover, key constructs of geopolitics—zero-sum, balance of power,spheres of influence—have retained their relevance in the calculus of thePutin administration. Secondly, securitization is an ongoing process. It isnot just about reworking themes and priorities from the Soviet and Yeltsineras. Although security conceptions are changing slowly, there are radicaldifferences in their presentation—differences which, at times, have hadimportant policy implications. Thirdly, securitization is not a discretephenomenon, divorced from other trends in Russian foreign policy. On thecontrary, Putin’s first year has been distinguished by the interplay betweensecuritization on the one hand and what might be called the‘economization’ of Russia’s external relations on the other. Although thesetendencies might appear mutually contradictory, with an emphasis on oneassuming a minimization of the other, in many cases the effect has beenjust the opposite, promoting instead a more holistic approach tointernational relations that is at once cooperative and competitive.Fourthly, securitization is as much a matter of personalities and process asit is of substance. In the same way that we might speak of the‘militarization’ of a particular society, or the ‘civilianizing’ of the military,so it is appropriate to understand ‘securitization’ in Putin’s Russia asreflecting the greatly increased role and influence of the security apparatusin foreign policy—both at the individual level and institutionally.

The primacy of security priorities and concepts

One of the more specious arguments, particularly in the West, is that Putinhas redirected Russia’s focus away from traditional geopolitical emphasistowards a more economically driven set of priorities.7 In support of thisthesis, some observers point to the prominence of economic objectives inmajor policy statements such as that of the National Security Concept andForeign Policy Concept of 2000, as well as the President’s numerousreferences to the critical importance of such goals. Thus, the NationalSecurity Concept lists the ‘condition of the national economy’ first among‘threats to the national security of the Russian Federation’,8 while theForeign Policy Concept considers a ‘fundamental task’ of foreign policy tobe the ‘creation of favourable external conditions for the progressive

THE SECURITIZATION OF RUSSIAN FOREIGN POLICY 13

development of Russia’.9 Putin’s speech to the Federal Assembly on 3 April2001 clearly gave more prominence to Russia’s integration into the globaleconomy than to the CIS integration and relations with NATO.10

On the face of it, then, Russian foreign policy seems indeed to beundergoing a process of ‘economization’. And yet the situation remainsunclear. First, as suggested earlier, the pervasive influence of official myth-making demands that a sceptical attitude be adopted towards policystatements of broad intent. Suffice it to recall Moscow’s approach towardsCIS-related issues during the 1990s, when an ambitious agenda was largelynullified by passivity of action, to highlight the truism that saying anddoing are often two entirely different things. One can hardly overlook thefact that it took three years for the 1994 Russia—EU Partnership andCooperation Agreement to enter into force—this despite ties with the EUbeing consistently described as strategic.11 It is also worth rememberingthat the 1997 version of the National Security Concept focused almostexclusively on domestic socio-economic challenges to Russian security12—an emphasis directly at odds with the Yeltsin administration’s ongoingobsession with geopolitical themes such as NATO enlargement, CFE(Conventional Forces in Europe) ‘modernization’, relations with China,Iraq, and so on.

We cannot assume, then, that Putin’s foreign policy agenda is more‘economic’ merely on the basis of official say-so. What matters are the hardrealities. Where, since Putin took office, has Moscow concentrated the bulkof its attention and resources? The answer is security in the hard sense ofthe term—to such an extent that one can speak of Russian foreign policybecoming more rather than less, ‘securitized’. The dominating issues havenot been Russian accession to the World Trade Organization, Paris Clubdebt, development of Caspian energy resources, gas exports to western andcentral Europe or involvement in a new ‘Silk Road’ stretching from thePacific to the Atlantic. Although these matters are assuming greaterimportance, their policy prominence cannot be compared to that of the twoflagship issues of the Putin administration: (1) terrorism, domestic andinternational, and its relationship with questions of territorial integrity andnational sovereignty; and (2) American plans to develop a strategic missiledefence system and the implications for strategic stability. If one conceivesof policy significance as the totality of high-level government interest,domestic political resonance, and wider international profile, then thesetwo issue-areas have ranked consistently above all others in Moscow’shorizon.13 Furthermore, contrary to the case under Yeltsin, the Putinadministration has been active in supplementing rhetoric with concretepolicy action: a vigorous, coordinated, if brutal approach towardsChechnya; and the so-called European Missile Defence Initiative to counterAmerican moves to dismantle the 1972 ABM treaty.14 Whatever we mightthink about the merits of these responses, they highlight at least an


enhanced commitment to the task as well as the enduring primacy ofsecurity interests more generally.

Moreover, this primacy finds expression not only in individual policypositions, but also in an underlying security-based philosophy. There maybe fewer references these days to concepts, popular under Yeltsin, such asthe ‘global multipolar order’15 as well as a less overt emphasis on notions ofzero-sum, balance of power and spheres of influence, but it would bemistaken to conclude from this that Moscow is moving towards a morebenign, positive-sum view of the world, one driven principally by economicconsiderations. Here, it is especially important to distinguish betweenstrategic purposes on the one hand, and the tactics used to prosecute themon the other. For example, in the case of the CIS, it is Putin’s activistapproach which is most pertinent, not his protestations that Moscow doesnot view the former Soviet republics as a ‘sphere of influence’.16 In animportant sense, what we are witnessing is a kind of reversePotemkinization: whereas the Yeltsin administration was apt to describethe former Soviet Union as Russia’s major foreign policy priority while inpractice assigning it second-class status, Putin has adopted a lessdeclamatory approach, but one which in reality is far more serious aboutexercising Russian influence in the periphery, treating the latter as a defacto sphere of influence.

Similarly, much of the motivation in Putin’s courting of westernEuropean countries such as the UK, France, Germany, Italy and others ismotivated principally by geopolitical concerns. While he is interested inexpanding economic ties with western Europe, the long-term prize isloosening the transatlantic security consensus. The methods are less crudethan in the past, particularly after the chastening experience of NATOsolidarity during the Kosovo crisis, but the strategic objective remains thesame. As with the CIS qua ‘sphere of influence’, the Putin administrationprefers not to adopt the lexicon of geopolitics and, indeed, denies anyagenda to undermine Western solidarity. But much of the purpose behindthe European Missile Defence initiative, and Moscow’s encouragement ofdevelopments such as the EU Rapid Reaction Force (RRF) and theCommon Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP), is to assist devolutionarytendencies in Western security. The Russian President can have fewexpectations of early success in such an endeavour, but appreciation of thisreality does not negate an underlying premise that is firmly grounded inzero-sum and balance-of-power ideas. For Putin, and many in the Russianpolitical class, the objective is not a stronger Europe per se, but one whichis able to dilute or counterbalance perceived unilateral tendencies inWashington’s decision making.17 Implicit in this thinking is the zero-sumassumption that an increased role for Russia in Europe is predicated on acorresponding dilution of American preeminence within the same. For only


in this way can Moscow maximize its opportunities for substantiveengagement and influence in continental affairs.

The changing face of securitization

Ultimately, then, the most important difference in the approach of theYeltsin and Putin administrations lies in modalities rather than concepts.Particularly after Kosovo, Moscow understands that more subtle methodsare required to advance long-standing security objectives. Most notably,there has been a sea-change in the way it responds to actions it considersdamaging to Russian interests. Whereas the Kremlin was once apt toexpress outrage and wounded pride or threaten unspecified‘countermeasures’, Putin rarely wastes his breath or his time on theunrealizable. It is significant, for example, that he has largely eschewed therhetoric of multipolarity while taking far more active steps towards a moreglobalist foreign policy. At the same time, his practical style is reflected in ageneral absence of ‘paper’ agreements or compromising entanglements. Incontrast to his predecessor’s penchant for idle promises and ‘boldinitiatives’, Putin has offered up the very image of level-headedreasonableness, committing to little, but leaving open as many options aspossible.

This pragmatic yet geopolitically driven approach to international affairsis especially well illustrated by the Kremlin’s management of relations withEuropean institutions like the OSCE, NATO and EU. On the one hand,Putin has moved away from the idea of the OSCE as Europe’s umbrellasecurity organization to which all other groupings are subordinate. Therehas been no formal rejection of this article of faith so popular during theYeltsin period, but in practice the OSCE has been relegated to the marginsof security thinking. It is seen as unwieldy and cumbersome, intrusive(notably vis-à-vis Chechnya), and incapable of serving as an effectiveinstrument for promoting Russian strategic goals—a view confirmed byMoscow’s belief that no useful purpose would be served by an OSCEsummit in 2001.18 Conversely, under Putin, Russia has in some measureresumed ties with NATO after the hiatus following the alliance’sintervention over Kosovo. It was his invitation to Lord Robertson in March2000—when still only Acting President—that provided the initial impetusfor moves in this direction. It has been followed since by a stream ofreciprocal high-level visits and even some concrete, if minor, achievementssuch as the opening of a NATO information office in Moscow. Putinunderstands that the alliance is by far the dominant security reality inEurope, and that Russia has no choice but to adapt accordingly.

Continuing Russian objections to alliance enlargement and policies,however, make it clear that Putin does not see NATO in benevolentpositive-sum terms, whose widening activities serve only to promote


stability and security in Europe.19 The alliance may be an inescapable fact,and one without alternatives, but that does not oblige Russia to ‘learn tolove’ it. So while it cooperates with Brussels, the extent of this engagementis limited and calibrated; there is no meeting of minds in the broader sense,but case-by-case cooperation in specific areas like joint peacekeepingoperations in Kosovo. Significantly, Moscow continues to view NATO‘expansion’ as a greater threat than EU enlargement, even though it is thelatter that poses potentially far more of a threat to Russian interests,particularly in relation to Kaliningrad. Consistent with this mindset, thePutin administration has tended in the case of the EU to focus on securitydevelopments—the CFSP, West European Union (WEU), RRF—rathermore than trends in economic and social integration.20 Although there isincreased awareness of the implications for Russia of, say, the Schengenvisa regime, such relatively mundane issues are not likely in the foreseeablefuture to displace more emblematic subjects like NATO enlargement.

In short, the securitization of Russian foreign policy under Putin is atonce flexible and pragmatic in presentation and unreconstructed in itsfundamentals. Putin understands the importance of accommodation anddeal making, but he proceeds from an intellectual and philosophical basethat is firmly grounded in geopolitical assumptions. He may not yet be in aposition to follow through on the second part of Theodore Roosevelt’smaxim to ‘speak softly, and carry a big stick’, but this remains the eventualambition. His is not a classical realist, confrontational view of the world,since he accepts interdependency and globalization as part of today’srealities. Nevertheless, his view is informed as much by notions ofcompetition as by cooperation, a consideration that naturally predisposeshim towards the familiar—that is, geopolitical and traditional securitytrumps—rather than towards more liberal, modern, yet alien interpretationsof security that assign prime importance to democratization, an openmarket economy and a civil society. Notwithstanding his claim that Russiais ‘a part of western European culture’,21 the key consideration for Putin isthat it should be a ‘great power’ in the global as well as regional sense.

Securitization and economization under Putin

One of the curiosities of Putin’s foreign policy is that the continuingprimacy of geopolitical and security priorities has been matched by anincreased emphasis on economic interests. Even if we take a properlysceptical view of official statements, there is no doubt that the newadministration has adopted a more energetic approach towards bothmacroeconomic reform in Russia and economic ties with the outsideworld. Important changes in tax laws and practice have been introduced;national budgets are acquiring credibility; the foreign investmentenvironment, although hardly felicitous, is better than at any time in nearly


a century; Moscow is assiduous in chasing down debts from the formerSoviet republics; and its approach to Caspian Sea development issues ismore focused, united and determined than ever before.

The existence of these parallel tendencies—the geopolitical and theeconomic—might seem to signal certain ‘normalization’ in Russian foreignpolicy. Instead of propounding its inherent ‘right’ to be treated as a greatpower,22 Russia is slowly evolving into a ‘normal’, postimperial nation-state, with a balanced slate of external priorities covering the full gamut ofnational interests. The irony is that this parallelism has actually intensifiedthe securitization of Russian foreign policy. Rather than speaking about aprocess of ‘economization’, it is more appropriate instead to talk about the‘geopoliticization’ or ‘securitization’ of economic priorities.

Two aspects of this paradoxical state of affairs stand out: (1) the nexusbetween a strong economy and an assertive foreign policy; and (2) the roleof economic factors in power projection. In the first case, Putin, like manymembers of the governing elite, is conscious of the crippling effect that thepost-Soviet economic crisis had on Russian foreign policy and militarycapabilities. Not only have other countries paid diminishing heed toMoscow’s interests and sensitivities, but the government itself has onlyoccasionally felt able to allocate the resources necessary to sustain anassertive line in, say, the former Soviet Union. It is therefore not a choicebetween either following a more economically oriented foreign policy ormaintaining a geopolitical approach to the world, but of doing both. Thegreat lesson of the Cold War (and after) is that the more prosperous acountry’s economy, the greater its international clout in all, not justeconomic, spheres. Where Putin differs from the West is that he sees astrong economy not only as an intrinsic good—improving the welfare ofthe people, etc.—but also in instrumental terms, as the springboard fromwhich to restore Russia’s international fortunes. He does not want Russiato become a ‘normal’ nation-state if this would limit its status to being thatof a major regional power at best. The objective, albeit one he realizescannot be achieved for many years, is Russia’s return to something like itsformer global eminence, without, of course, the tensions and conflicts ofthe Cold War.

More tangibly, the pursuit of external economic priorities is aboutpower projection. At the crudest level, a capacity to exert economicpressure on others is seen as a prerequisite for ensuring that they followpolicies acceptable to Russia. Thus, an activist approach to Caspian Seaenergy development pays off in a more solid strategic presence in centralAsia and the Caucasus; a tougher line on gas payment arrears translatesinto a more pliable Ukraine, less disposed and/or able to engage with theWest; while Georgia’s dependence on Russian energy requires that it payparticular attention to Moscow’s security interests across the wholeCaucasus region. Under Yeltsin, Russia had the option of exploiting the


linkages between economic interests and power projection, but did not doso to anything like the extent possible. By contrast, the Putinadministration has shed these inhibitions to follow a much harder line inthe CIS, using economical rationalist methods to achieve geopolitical andsecurity goals.23 The result, in keeping with the overall style of the Presidenthimself, has been a far more ‘securitized’ approach in practice.

Even in a more overtly cooperative context, economic complementaritieshave contributed to a renewed assertiveness and capacity to projectinfluence. Arms sales to China and India, in the 1990s essentially a meansof earning export income and sustaining the Russian military-industrialcomplex, are now a practical expression of multipolarity, giving substanceto the ‘strategic partnerships’ with these countries. Nuclear cooperationwith Iran is not only financially lucrative, but underlines Moscow’s role inthe Near East and reminds the West that Russia remains an importantplayer in key aspects of global security, in particular, the non-proliferationof weapons of mass destruction (WMD). In the particular case of westernEurope, the region’s reliance on Russian gas exports24 constitutes ascompelling a reason as any for continuing engagement with Moscow on arange of matters extending far beyond the purely economic. Again, theselinkages were present in some form or other during the Yeltsin years, butthey were rarely exploited to the degree that is evident today. At a timewhen Russian military capacity (conventional and nuclear) remains feeble,economic instruments have become by far the most effective means ofpursuing long-standing geostrategic interests.

The securitization of foreign policy management

If many of the underlying geopolitical assumptions of the Kremlin haveproved remarkably resilient, then the institutional context of foreign policymaking has, on the other hand, undergone significant transformation.Changes in administrative practice have become a critical component in theongoing securitization of foreign policy, affecting matters of substance aswell as ‘style’. At the most literal level, the involvement of the securityapparatus in policy formulation and implementation has increasedsignificantly. Although its role was by no means negligible under Yeltsin—after all, Primakov headed the Foreign Intelligence Service (FIS) before hebecame Foreign Minister—it was difficult to discern a distinct security andintelligence influence as such. It was more the case that the so-called power(silovye) institutions—the Federal Security Service (FSB), FIS, InteriorMinistry, Ministry of Defence—sometimes constituted a strong (but by nomeans always united) constituency for conservative nationalism, one thatheightened the profile of security issues and, more generally, served tocheck the liberalization (or ‘normalization’) of Russian foreign policy.Under Putin, the security apparatus has emerged from its previous near-


anonymity in policy making to assume a much more public profile. Notonly is a former head of the FSB now President of Russia, but his closestconfidant and former KGB/FSB colleague Sergei Ivanov is the nearest thecountry has to a vice-president. Although the full policy implications ofthis securitization of the institutional environment have yet to emerge, it isindubitable that the increased weight of the security apparatus relative tothe other ‘power’ ministries was one of the principal outcomes of Putin’srise to power. If nothing else, it means that security priorities will remain atthe top of Moscow’s agenda for some time to come while ensuring that arelatively pragmatic outlook continues to prevail in the Kremlin.25

This literal securitization of the institutional context has had a crucialimpact on foreign policy conduct. While personalities and not institutionsremain the key to decision making, Putin’s substantial popular mandateand his more even personality compared with Yeltsin have been conduciveto greater bureaucratic certainty than at any time since the Soviet collapse.Although he has surrounded himself with trusted faces from his past, theirintroduction in government has been achieved smoothly. The newPresident has been careful to balance new appointments with the retentionof many familiar figures from the Yeltsin era. Thus, Igor Ivanov remains asForeign Minister; Igor Sergeev survived more than a year with the defenceportfolio (before being moved to an honoured position as the President’sadviser on strategic stability); and in May 2001 former Prime MinisterViktor Chernomyrdin was appointed Ambassador to Kiev—a pivotalposition in Russia—Ukraine relations. As under Yeltsin, no one is in anydoubt about the pre-eminence of the President in Russian political life. Butthe difference now is that Putin’s more understated approach to power andthe institutional stability it has encouraged has generated a far morecentralized, coordinated and disciplined approach to foreign policymanagement. In place of the earlier Byzantine factionalism andsectionalization, the management of Russia’s external relations may be saidto have become securitized in the sense of absorbing the kind of implicitdiscipline commonly associated with the security agencies whence Putincame.

Although the policy implications arising from this more orderedinstitutional context remain to be played out, one can already identify agreater degree of self-confidence and predictability in Moscow’s behaviourtowards other countries. This is evident, for example, in its management ofthe external aspects of the Chechen conflict, where the Kremlin hasmaintained a resolutely unapologetic stance, backed up by action on theground, in the face of sustained Western criticism. More generally, while talkof a new consensus in foreign policy is still premature—particularly giventhe contradictions within its external agenda—Russia these days presents abroadly consistent face to its various audiences, unlike in the 1990s whenpolicy in many areas, notably the CIS (e.g. the Russia—Belarus Union),


fluctuated wildly according to whichever sectional interest was in theascendancy at the Kremlin court. In today’s much calmer operatingenvironment, Putin exercises greater control over policy presentation andcontent, at once avoiding damaging turnarounds and leaving himself plentyof room for manoeuvre. With the policy swings of his predecessorconsigned to the past, this has resulted in a much greater degree ofprofessionalism and confidence in foreign policy management, including adetermination to invest real content into declared objectives.

RUSSIA AND EUROPE IN THE ERA OFSECURITIZATION

One of the more fashionable claims since Putin’s advent to power has beenthe notion that Russian foreign policy has become more ‘European’ incontrast to the Atlanticist bias of the Yeltsin administration.26 There ismuch to be said for this theory. For one thing, Putin is Eurocentric byexperience and conviction. His working background—senior KGB officerin former East Germany, and later Deputy Mayor of St Petersburg withresponsibility for the city’s relations with the outside world—meant thatsuch foreign policy expertise he acquired prior to becoming President waslargely in relation to Europe. Such formative experiences haveclearly contributed to the conviction, expressed in his book Ot pervogolitsa, that Russians are Europeans, wherever they live.27 It is also relevantthat he has invested considerable time and effort in substantiating thisclaim, whether by visiting the major western European capitals,highlighting the importance of closer economic relations with the EU andits member states, or enlisting European support for Russian positions oninternational issues such as strategic missile defence.

In addition to issues of personal preference, there are also objectivefactors advocating a more Europeanized approach towards foreign policy.More than one-third of Russia’s trade is with the EU, a share that someanalysts expect to rise to around 60 per cent after the next wave of theUnion’s enlargement.28 Then there are the obvious implications ofgeographic proximity: a whole raft of issues—security, political, economic,ecological—where Russia and Europe face common problems and where,in many cases, joint solutions are required. Relatedly, Europe’s rise andRussia’s decline have resulted in a rough equivalence in geostrategic terms.Moscow finds in western European capitals a more receptive audience tomany of its security concerns, such as strategic stability, than inWashington.29 And although this relative goodwill or sympathy is oftennot readily convertible into hard political capital, it represents potentiallyfertile soil for the evolution of closer ties between Russia and westernEurope. Finally, there is the matter of American indifference towardsRussia. The fact that the latter had slipped well down the list of


Washington’s priorities prior to 11 September 2001 has reinforced the casefor a geographic reorientation of Moscow’s foreign policy.

In short, inclination and logic would seem to dictate a more Eurocentricoutlook. And yet there are compelling reasons to suggest that this mayprove elusive. The first is the continuing geopolitical strain in the world-view of much of the political class. While many concede intellectually thatRussia needs to become more ‘European’, their instincts remain mouldedby the calculus of international power politics—and this presupposes afundamentally Americacentric approach. For the administration to moveaway from this mindset requires that it absorb more ‘European’ or positive-sum views of continental security in which Russia joins, as a mere equal,with others on issues such as peacekeeping and reconstruction in theBalkans, combating international terrorism and transnational crime, thepromotion of a stable European security space, developing multifacetedeconomic relations, and so on. However, while there are some signs of anincreased willingness to enter into such activities as a ‘normal’ player, theseare more often than not counterbalanced by what Vladimir Baranovskyhas called a ‘not-like-the-others’ mentality.30 There is still a deep-rooted reluctance to accept a diminished, regional role for Russia as justanother important European power; the globalist vision, including the ideaof the USA as Russia’s primary point of strategic reference, remainsconsuming.31

The second major constraint is that, notwithstanding the impressiveperformance of the major western European powers in recent years,American strategic, economic, technological and cultural dominance is formany Russians the all-encompassing reality of today’s world. This trend hasbeen reinforced by the events of 11 September 2001. Putin may ‘feel’European, but he understands also that Russia, like everyone else, cannothelp but be primarily influenced by Washington’s actions, whether instrategic disarmament, economic globalization, or elsewhere. AlthoughRussian foreign policy subscribes to notions of multipolarity, primacy of theUN, the pivotal role of Europe, and so forth, in practice Putin pursues acold-blooded pragmatism. Irrespective of how much it might resentAmerican ‘hegemonism’ and ‘diktat’, it knows it must deal withWashington on the issues that really matter.32 This is why it is likely, in time,to agree to an accommodation over American missile defence plans and thestrategic disarmament agenda, even while it works hard to improve themodalities of an eventual deal. In the European context, it will continue toassume that, when it comes down to the difficult decisions, western Europewill follow Washington’s lead—even those countries such as France andGermany which have often criticized American policies.

Thirdly, the Europeanization of Russian foreign policy will depend lesson Moscow’s inclinations than on the actions and policies of others—theUSA, western Europe, even China. For example, continuation of a


disengaged approach by the USA in international affairs would provide abreathing space for the longer-term development of Russia’s ties withwestern Europe, and facilitate the process of Europeanization in itsexternal outlook. We have already had a taste of this when a period oftransition in American politics—the ‘dead’ months of Clinton’s secondterm, the extended election hiatus, and the settling-in period of the newRepublican administration—coincided with a noticeable reduction inWashington’s international commitments, leaving Russia with littlealternative but to focus on relations with western Europe. On the otherhand, an assertive attitude by Washington in areas such as strategic missiledefence, NATO enlargement and international conflict resolution wouldfeed deep-rooted preconceptions and prejudices—just as it did during thefirst wave of alliance enlargement and at the time of the Kosovo crisis. Inthis event, the USA would return as the prime focus of Moscow’sattention, with western Europe relegated to the largely auxiliary role ofhelping to soften Washington’s positions.

So it is an open question whether the current Eurocentric approach ofthe Putin administration signifies a strategic shift towards a more ‘normal’foreign policy, or whether it is just a passing phase, the product of aparticular concatenation of circumstances. In this context, one should noterecent signs of a more activist approach to foreign policy on the part of theBush administration,33 while European attitudes towards Russia continueto be highly ambivalent. For the time being, the major continental powersare disposed to a qualitative improvement in relations with Moscow,following the stagnation of the later Yeltsin years. But the widening gulf inpolitical and civil values between Russia and western Europe—highlightedespecially in differences over Moscow’s conduct of the Chechen war—could become serious.34 Here, the very securitization of Russian foreignpolicy under Putin could turn out to be the single greatest barrier to aproper rapprochement. While Moscow continues to adopt a narrowlypragmatic, instrumental and morally arid approach to external relations,one based on exploiting the sometimes fortuitous confluence of securityand economic interests rather than on shared values—a commitment tomedia freedoms and diversity, transparent political processes, individualhuman rights—it is unlikely that Russia will be accepted as a fully fledgedmember of a wider European community of nations. In the end, then, theextent to which Russian foreign policy can become ‘Europeanized’ andRussia a part of Europe, comes down to a strategic choice between twodiametrically opposed tendencies: a securitization characterized principallyby a repackaging of essentially old ideas and concepts, and a normalizationthat changes the paradigm and moves decisively beyond the parameters ofcurrent Russian foreign policy thinking.


NOTES

1. One of Catherine the Great’s particular favourites, Prince Potemkin, was inthe habit of putting up facades of prosperous villages (complete with freshlydressed peasants) along the Empress’s carriage route in order to hide fromher the reality of extreme rural degradation and poverty. Since that time, theterm pokazukha (fake show) has come to signify government attempts,especially during the Soviet period, to promote the fiction of wealth andhappiness where little of either existed. In the foreign policy context,Vladimir Lukin, former Ambassador to the USA, was the first to highlightthe Russian ‘passion for mere show, the Potemkin village syndrome’. He wasreferring to Moscow’s approach towards Iraq, specifically the contrastbetween initial triumphalism and subsequent disappointments in mediatingbetween Saddam Hussein and the Western powers—‘Bengalskii ogon varaviiskikh peskahk’, Moskovskie novosti, no. 50, 23–30 October, p. 13.

2. See Viktor Kremenyuk, ‘Vneshnyaya politika Moskvy v poiskakh suti’,Mezhdunarodnaya zhizn, no. 4, 2001, pp. 16–17. See also‘Vneshnepoliticheskii kurs stal bolee sootvetstvovat natsionalnym interesamstrany’, Nezavisimaya gazeta, 7 June 2001, p. 11, an elite survey completedin April 2001 by the Russian Independent Institute for Social and NationalQuestions and the Moscow office of the Friedrich Ebert Foundation. Thesurvey focused on the views of 210 members of the Russian foreign policyestablishment, including Duma deputies and staffers, members of theFederation Council, officials, academics and think-tankers.

3. At the Brunei APEC summit in November 2000, Putin began his address withthe assertion that Russia ‘has always felt itself to be a Eurasian country,’going on to describe it as the ‘distinctive integrating centre linking Asia,Europe and America’; see ‘Rossiya: novye vostochnye perspektivy’,Nezavisimaya gazeta, 14 November 2000, p. 1.

4. This view, favoured by some Western correspondents in Moscow, was alsostrongly implicit in such headlines as ‘Vladimir Putin, Russia’s Post-Cold-Warrior’ (The Economist, 8 January 2000, p. 45).

5. See comments by former Russian Ambassador to the United Kingdom,Anatolii Adamishin, in “‘Kazhetsya za god osobykh oshibok vo vneshneipolitike my ne nadelali”’, round-table discussion in Nezavisimaya gazeta, 28December 2000, p. 11.

6. See ‘Vneshnepoliticheskii kurs stal bolee sootvetstvovat…’, p. 11. See alsoMargaretha Mommsen, ‘Sfinks v Kremle’, Internationale Politik, no. 5,2000, p. 31.

7. See Strategic Survey: 2000/2001 (Institute of International Strategic Studiesand Oxford University Press), pp. 121–2.

8. ‘Kontseptsiya natsionalnoi bezopasnosti Rossiiskoi Federatsii’, Nezavisimoevoennoe obozrenie, no. 1, 14–20 January 2000, p. 6.

9. ‘Kontseptsiya vneshnei politiki Rossiiskoi Federatsii’, Nezavisimaya gazeta,11 July 2000, p. 1.

10. Vladimir Putin: ‘Ne budet ni revolyutsii, ni kontrrevolyutsii’, address to theFederal Assembly, Rossiiskaya gazeta, 4 April 2001, pp. 3–4.


11. In an address to the collegium of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) on26 January 2001, Putin tacitly acknowledged these problems by calling for amajor improvement in the quality and effectiveness of Russia—EUcooperation. See ‘O zadachakh Rossiiskoi diplomatii’, Mezhdunarodnayazhizn, no. 2, 2001, p. 6.

12. As an Australian diplomat in Moscow, I was fortunate enough to receive acopy of the 1997 Concept of National Security. In most respects it was verysimilar to the 2000 version, with one notable difference—the absence of anypreamble about alleged American/Western attempts to impose unipolarityand diktat.

13. Putin gave primary emphasis to these priorities in his address to the MFAcollegium; see ‘O zadachakh…’, p. 4.

14. While short on detail, the Russian proposals for cooperation in ‘non-strategic’missile defence envisaged joint threat assessments, technical cooperation andtechnology sharing. Although no less an authority than Alexei Arbatov hascriticized the proposals as impractical (at a round-table discussion at theMoscow Carnegie Centre on 2 April 2001), they at least represented anadvance on the policy paralysis of Yeltsin’s last year.

15. Notwithstanding Yeltsin’s immodest (and false) reference to ‘my concept of amultipolar world’ in his Midnight Diaries (London, 2001, p. 163), it wasformer Foreign Minister Primakov who assiduously promoted ideas ofmultipolarity and the development of a ‘diversified’ and ‘multi-vectored’Russian foreign policy.

16. See Putin’s comments reported by Arkady Dubnov in Vremya MN, 16December 1999, p. 6 (in Current Digest of the Post-Soviet Press, vol. 51, no.50, 1999, p. 16).

17. This point has been made by Russian commentators, e.g. Dmitrii Danilov, in‘Stroitelstvo vtoroi opory Evropeiskogo soyuza: Ispolzovanie novykhtekhnologii’, in Tatyana Parkhalina (ed.), Evropeiskii soyuz na rubezhe vekov(Moscow, 2000), pp. 51–2.

18. ‘Moskva protiv provedeniya sammita OBSE v etom godu’, Nezavisimayagazeta, 31 March 2001, p. 1. Significantly, also, there was no mention of theOSCE in Putin’s address to the Federal Assembly a few days later.

19. Putin, ‘O zadachakh…’, p. 6; see also his 2001 comments to the FederalAssembly, ‘Ne budet ni revolyutsii…’p. 4.

20. See, for example, Igor Ivanov, ‘Rossiya i Evropa na rubezhe stoletii’,Mezhdunarodnaya zhizn, no. 2, 2000, p. 26.

21. Vladimir Putin: Ot pervogo litsa (Moscow, 2000), p. 156.22. Russia’s ‘right’ to great power status was a constant refrain throughout the

1990s. Yeltsin was especially fixated on this idea, as typified by his claimthat Russia’s participation in the post-Kosovo settlement at the 1999Cologne G8 Summit had ‘reaffirmed its status as an equal political partner,without whom it is unthinkable to resolve world conflicts and decideimportant issues…’ (Midnight Diaries, p. 346). However, even so-calledliberals such as former Foreign Minister Kozyrev claimed that Russia was‘doomed’ to remain a great power (‘Rossiya i SShA: Partnerstvo neprezhdevremenno, a zapazdyvaet’, Izvestiya, 11 March 1994, p. 3).


23. In his MFA address in January 2001, Putin stated that CIS integration wasnot ‘an aim in itself but must bring concrete rather than rhetorical benefits toRussia and its citizens see ‘O zadachakh…’, p. 5. In the specific context ofrelations with Ukraine and Belarus, Arkadii Moshes has described the newrationalist phase under Putin as a’moderate-pragmatic period,’ characterizedprincipally by reduced Russian subsidies to those countries: ‘Ukraina iBelorussiya v Rossiiskoi vneshnei politike 90-kh godov’ (theses of a round-table presentation at the Moscow Carnegie Center on 2 April 2001).

24. See Marina Volkova, ‘Energeticheskii krizis sblizil Moskvu s Evrosoyuzom’,Nezavisimaya gazeta, 31 October 2000, pp. 1, 3.

25. Compared with other power institutions, the KGB—in particular its externaldepartments—was considered by many observers to be more informed andtherefore more pragmatic about the extent of the Soviet system’s weaknesses.It perhaps explains why former Communist Party General Secretary YuriiAndropov, an illiberal figure principally associated with the brutalsuppression of the 1956 Hungarian Uprising and later persecution of Sovietdissidents during the Brezhnev era, should also be the one to introduceliberalizing reforms into the Soviet economy in the early 1980s.

26. Strategic Survey: 2000/2001, p. 122. See also ‘Vneshnepoliticheskii kurs stalbolee sootvetstvovat…’, p. 11.

27. Putin, Ot pervogo litsa, p. 156.28. See figures in Tamozhennaya statistika vneshnei torgovlya Rossiiskoi

Federatsii (Moscow, 2000), p. 7. The Institute of International StrategicStudies puts the EU’s share of Russian foreign trade even higher at over 40per cent (Strategic Survey: 2000/2001, p. 122).

29. Although European attitudes on this question are not uniform, Paris, Berlinand Rome have exhibited a consistently lukewarm attitude towards theAmerican proposals. Even London, Washington’s closest ally, has been farfrom unqualified in its support.

30. Vladimir Baranovsky, ‘Russia: A Part of Europe or Apart from Europe?’,International Affairs, vol. 76, no. 3, 2000, p. 451.

31. One radical expression of this argument is Alexei Pushkov’s view that Russiacannot be politically integrated anywhere, let alone in the West: ‘Rossiya vnovom miroporyadke: ryadom s zapadom ili sama po sebe?’,Mezhdunarodnaya zhizn, no. 10, 2000, p. 39. Consistent with this logic, italso cannot allow itself the luxury of becoming a ‘classical regional power’like Germany or Japan (ibid., p. 42).

32. Even vocal critics of Kozyrevian Atlanticism, such as Pushkov, have warnedagainst ‘excessive’ expectations regarding the Europeanization of Russianforeign policy. According to him, a ‘decisive’ rapprochement with Europe iscontingent first on the development of ‘stable and solid’ relations with theUnited States: see ‘Rossiya v novom miroporyadke…’, pp. 40–1.

33. The fragility of Eurocentrism in foreign policy thinking was amply illustratedby the disproportionate Russian media reaction to the fact and outcomes ofthe Putin-Bush summit at Brdo in Slovenia—see, for example, comments byVyacheslav Nikonov, in Trud, 23 June 2001, p. 2.

34. See Strategic Survey: 2000/2001, p. 116.


3The Transformation of Russia’s MilitaryDoctrine in the Aftermath of Kosovo and

Chechnya

ALEXEI ARBATOV

Strictly speaking, Russia has never existed between Europe and Asia, evengeographically. It has always been an east European nation which from thesixteenth century acquired huge territories in northern Asia—at about thesame time as the west European empires were gaining their vast colonies inSouth and North America, Asia and Africa. The Russian Empire and theSoviet Union evolved as authoritarian, militarized powers owing to thedialectics of external confrontation and internal oppression. ManyEuropean states had experienced similar regimes at various periods of theirhistory, but this model came to be mostly associated with ‘Asian’development (which is scarcely justified when considering India, Japan,South Korea and Taiwan for instance). For various complex historicalreasons, the system survived in Russia until the mid-1980s when itunderwent a drastic transformation, with farreaching and controversialconsequences for Russia’s domestic and foreign policies.

When it came to strategic issues, empty slogans and ceremonious US andEuropean summits could hardly conceal the profound deterioration ofrelations between Russia and the West throughout the second half of the1990s. The US-led NATO military action against the sovereign state ofYugoslavia severely undermined the post-Cold-War framework of security,which allegedly was to be based on an enhanced role for the UN and theOrganization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), strictcompliance with the UN Charter, international law and agreementsbetween Russia and the West (foremost the NATO-Russia Founding Act of1997), partnership between Russia and NATO, joint peacekeepingoperations, and comprehensive arms control and disarmament measures.

It was against this background that the 1999 war in theBalkans triggered a major revision of the Russian National SecurityConcept, defence doctrine and military policy. The new official conceptwas adopted by the National Security Council in January 2000 and the newMilitary Doctrine a month later.1 The document was officially approved byPresident Putin shortly after his inauguration in May 2000.

NEW LOOK AT DEFENCE REQUIREMENTS

Russian military requirements continue to be a subject of domestic debate.Notwithstanding the alterations introduced into the Military Doctrine, it isderived, to a certain extent, from the Principle Guidance on the MilitaryDoctrine of the Russian Federation, approved by the Security Council on 2November 1993 and legalized by Yeltsin in an official decree (No. 1833).This Military Doctrine postulated two main tasks of defence policy:preservation of nuclear deterrence and anticipating and preparing for localconflicts (including peace-enforcement and peacekeeping operations),which, it was assumed, could occur in several places simultaneously.President Yeltsin elaborated these principal doctrinal points openly for thefirst time when appointing the new Minister of Defence, Igor Sergeev, inMay 1997.

Thus, despite the increasing tension with NATO over its enlargementprogramme, the western military districts of Russia (Moscow, Leningradand Ural-Volga) were largely considered rear areas; they were to providesupply and training infrastructure for the forces assigned missions in thesouth and south-east where Russia had security commitments, engagementin local conflicts or peacekeeping operations mainly in the north Caucasusmilitary district, Transcaucasus and central Asia. The defence budgets of1997–99 were structured accordingly, with their predominant portion (upto 70 per cent) allocated to the maintenance of the armed forces, withgreatly reduced numbers (altogether by 30 per cent), while the bulk ofR&D and procurement appropriations went to the modernization ofstrategic forces.

NATO’s military action against Yugoslavia in March 1999 marked awatershed in Russian assessment of military requirements and defencepriorities. This was perceived as a slap in the face for Russia, whichdemonstrated more then ever before the West’s arrogance in its power andintention to overlook Russian interests whenever they diverged from itsown. It was a particularly painful humiliation for Moscow, since PresidentYeltsin had committed himself personally many times to preventing suchaction and had guaranteed Yugoslavia’s security. NATO’s offensive againstYugoslavia appeared to be a clear demonstration of a genuinetransformation of that alliance. Its new strategic concept, adopted at theApril 1999 summit, claimed a much greater mission in the post-Cold-Warworld: to be on at least an equal footing with, and possibly to have muchhigher status and power than, the UN and OSCE. This implied the self-proclaimed right to act independently, without UN or OSCEauthorization, which was regarded as desirable but not necessary for theinitiation of military action by NATO. Moreover, the new NATO strategynow allowed for military action of an offensive nature and beyond theterritories of NATO member states. The new versions of the Russian


National Security Concept and Military Doctrine clearly reflected,therefore, Moscow’s reaction to the Balkan war.

THE NEW PRIORITIES IN DEFENCE POLICY

The principal point of the new National Security Concept (compared withits 1997 version) was the supposition that the military threats to Russiawere growing and that the main dangers emanated from the West:‘Elevated to the level of strategic doctrine the shift of NATO to the practiceof using force outside its area of responsibility and without UN SecurityCouncil sanction threatens to destabilize the entire strategic situation in theworld.’2 An obvious way to respond to this threat was to enhance Russiannuclear forces to deter not just nuclear, but also large-scale conventionalattacks of the type manifested in the Balkans. The new Military Doctrineindeed reserved for Russia ‘the right to use nuclear weapons in response tothe use of nuclear and other mass destruction weapons against Russia andits allies, as well as in response to a large-scale conventional aggression incritical situations for Russia and its allies’.3

The Russian military reform became subject to serious reassessment. Itwas realized that conventional forces might once again be oriented to high-technology warfare against NATO in the west, in addition to involvementin local conflicts in the south and in the east. Nonetheless, the developmentand deployment of sophisticated capabilities analogous to NATO’s massiveprecision-guided conventional air and naval potential will clearly bebeyond Russia’s financial capacity for a long time. Hence, the mostprobable response, which is already taking shape, is an even greateremphasis on robust nuclear deterrence, relying on enhanced strategic andtactical nuclear forces and their C3I systems.4 Accordingly, in 1999 a newlaw ‘On Financing the Defence Contract for Strategic Nuclear Forces’, wasadopted by the Duma and approved by the President. This law envisionedstable long-term funding for strategic forces R&D and procurement at alevel of about 40 per cent of the investment portion of the defence budget.

Nonetheless, some Russian critics claim that the threat of nuclear firstuse would not be a credible deterrent against NATO, which willacquire nuclear strategic and tactical superiority over Russia by 2010because of the shortage of funding for maintenance and modernizationsuffered by the Russian nuclear forces. This explains the new emphasis onthe buildup and modernization of Russia’s conventional air defence, airforce and naval assets.

THE NEW WAR IN CHECHNYA

Another crucial provision of the new National Security Concept andMilitary Doctrine, which is clearly spelled out, is the possibility of

TRANSFORMATION OF RUSSIA’S MILITARY DOCTRINE 29

employing armed forces in domestic conflicts. It should be recognized thatRussia’s war in Chechnya, initiated in the autumn of 1999, and its effectson relations between Russia and the West, were closely related to theevents in Kosovo earlier in the year. The war in Yugoslavia greatly affectedthe Russian leadership and public opinion. The main lessons drawn from itwere that the end justifies the means; that crisis is best resolved by force ifapplied decisively and massively; and that negotiations are of dubious valueused merely as a cover for military action.

The Chechen campaign was officially justified on the basis of the law‘On the Fight against Terrorism’, which formally sanctions the use ofarmed forces for such purposes. However, it should be pointed out thatthis law implies specific operations against specific cases of terrorism whichare well defined. It certainly does not cater for a lengthy, large-scalemilitary campaign deploying aircraft, armour and artillery, the devastationof whole cities and villages, leading to huge losses among federal troopsand still greater ones among the local population. The dubious justificationand weak legal foundation of this war is one of the serious reasons for thestrong condemnation of this action by the West.

Hence, one of the crucial dilemmas of Russian domestic and militarypolicy is whether the domestic employment of armed forces is to belegalized (through amendments to the law ‘On the State of Emergency’),with all the political dangers and devastating implications of such actions,or whether Russia should risk losing control over armed secessionistmovements, armed revolts, violent civil, ethnic and religious conflicts, withwhich internal troops and police are unable to deal effectively.

The growing rift between Russia and the West is reflected in the newofficial documents on the highest level: the National Security Concept andthe Military Doctrine. Their emphasis on nuclear deterrence and nuclearfirst use as principal pillars of Russian security, on robust conventionaldefence against the NATO threat, as well as on the regular employment ofarmed forces to deal with domestic conflicts, all reflect Moscow’s greatsecurity concerns and have huge economic, foreign and domestic politicalimplications.

Despite the circumstantial coincidence of interests between Russia andthe West since 11 September 2001, it is important to forestall the danger ofescalating US-Russian and Russian-Western confrontation. The securitycooperation must be patiently and consistently rebuilt step by step, on apragmatic basis and without excessive expectations, gradually expandingthe zone of cooperation and providing it with solid public support. Revivingthe NATO-Russian Partnership for Peace would be encouraged by athorough reorganization of the peacekeeping operation in Kosovo andother conflict-ridden regions and a revision of the START-III/ABMpackage agreements. Other steps should be a tacit understanding on nofurther NATO expansion over the next several years.


NOTES

1. ‘Kontseptsiia natsional’noi bezopasnosti Rossiiskoi Federatsii’, Nezavisimoevoennoe obozrenie, no. 1, 14–20 January 2000, pp. 1–6; ‘Voennaia doktrinaRossiiskoi Federatsii’, Krasnaia zvezda, 9 October 1999, pp. 3–4.

2. ‘Kontseptsiia natsional’noi bezopasnosti’.3. ‘Voennaia doktrina’.4. ‘Strategicheskaia kontseptsiia NATO’, Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, no.

16, 30 April–6 May 1999; Sergei Sokut, ‘Prioretnyi gosinteres Rossii’, ibid.,no. 17, 7–13 May 1999, p. 1.

TRANSFORMATION OF RUSSIA’S MILITARY DOCTRINE 31

4After the Empire: Russia’s Emerging

International Identity

DMITRI TRENIN

There is an old story told in Russia and believed elsewhere. Once upon atime there was a vast country, but it lost its unity and was overrun bynomads who kept it captive for a quarter of a millennium. Slowly,however, its people gathered their strength, defeated the oppressors andshook off their yoke. Once free again, the country grew even bigger andmore powerful. However, it later stumbled into a severe domestic crisis,lasting three decades and leading to a turmoil which in its turn invited itsneighbours to invade and occupy it. The crisis was so severe, the internaldivisions so deep and the foreigners so rapacious that the great countryalmost ceased to exist. Yet, its people organized themselves, raised an army,chased out the invaders and finally brought their house in order. For thefollowing three centuries, the country expanded in all directions to becomethe biggest and one of the most powerful empires on earth. It, too, fellvictim to internal divisions that its rulers were unable to manage, and againbroke up amid the flames of a civil war and external military intervention.Miraculously but predictably, it was rescued again, restored to its formersplendour and glory. Moreover, it rose to a position and standing it hadnever enjoyed before—that of one of only two poles in the internationalsystem. It is hardly surprising, then, that when that superpower collapsedunder its own weight a little more than a decade ago, many Russians said,we will be back. And some foreigners feared, Russia will always be the same.

I call this tale a phoenix legend. It is certainly very attractive. It doesoffer a crude interpretation of the past. Still, it is very misleading when itcomes to analysing the present and forecasting the future. The reason forthis is the discontinuities in Russia’s structure and behaviour that militateagainst the repetition of the familiar cycle, i.e. passing from imperial break-up to imperial restoration.

First, there can be no isolation or semi-isolation of Russia from theinternational environment, something that in the past was either natural orcould be effectively imposed. Russia has entered the world, and the worldhas entered Russia: neither can be undone. Borders as barriers are beingreplaced by borders as frontiers, interfaces, lines of communication.Likewise, there is no longer a fundamental value gap between Russia and

much of the rest of the world. Both the Third Rome and the ThirdInternational are relics of the past, not pointers to the future.

Secondly, Russia as a monolith is over. The country is still not ademocracy, but it is genuinely pluralistic, economically, politically andspiritually. Concentration of all national resources in one pair of hands ishighly unlikely. Authoritarian rule, even if imposed, will have to take intoaccount the many existing interests at national, sectorial and regionallevels.

Thirdly, now or in the foreseeable future Russia will lack resources(material, financial and psychological) to attempt even a modest projectaimed at imperial restoration. Russia’s gross domestic product (about 1.5per cent of the world’s total) is less than 5 per cent of the USA’s; its federalbudget is between US$20 and US$25 billion; and the sovereign debt standsat US$158 billion, making its repayment an extremely heavy burden. TheRussian armed forces are still vast, numbering over 1 million people, butthey have to survive on a budget of a mere US$4 billion.

Fourthly, Russia is more than ever before dependent on the outsideworld for domestic development, in terms of the required finances,technology and investment.

Fifthly, the international system is clearly emphasizing geo-economicsover traditional geopolitics. However, the long-term geopolitical trendshave reversed themselves. The Russia—dominated Eurasian heartland hasshrunk, giving way to pressure from the rimland. The West, China, Japanand the Islamic world have all been on the rise.

That these points are valid and can be proven by the empiricalexperience does not yet guarantee their acceptance by the majority of theRussian elites and the public. Many leaders and ordinary citizens whoespoused traditional geopolitical thinking once they abandoned Marxist-Leninist dogma clearly believe that Russia is destined, or even ‘doomed’ tobe a great power, a major international pole of attraction, and so on. Inother words, the phoenix legend still holds a promise to them. Yet, whenthey must act, they usually respect the current realities. The result is apeculiar schizophrenia.

Evgenii Primakov, who tirelessly promoted the idea of multipolarity, hadto manage the consequences of Russia’s double devaluation, first of the ruble(coupled with de facto sovereign default, in August 1998), and ofMoscow’s international diplomatic and military weight (in spring 1999,over Kosovo). In a spectacular gesture of protest over the NATO air attackagainst Yugoslavia, Primakov turned his plane back over the Atlantic. He,however, had not been flying to the USA to discuss conflict settlement in theBalkans, but rather to try to persuade the International Monetary Fund toallocate funds to Russia.

It was Primakov again who early on stressed CIS integration as a way ofrestoring Moscow’s influence in the former USSR, but had to concede that,

RUSSIA’S EMERGING INTERNATIONAL IDENTITY 33

in reality, former Soviet republics were moving ever further apart, bothpolitically and economically. By the end of his brief tenure as PrimeMinister, he saw a loose Western-oriented coalition of GUUAM (Georgia,Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan and Moldova) becoming moreconsolidated.

Primakov also dropped the hint of a ‘Eurasian triangle’ linking Moscow,Beijing and New Delhi, only to hear that there was no interest among theother would-be partners in forming a common front, much less one to beled by Russia. A year later, and a few weeks before his own resignation,President Yeltsin thundered from Beijing about Russia’s nuclear might. Hismessage was both trivial and out of place, and it created a mildembarrassment, including for Prime Minister Vladimir Putin, who had totone down Yeltsin’s bombast.

The various conceptual documents approved by Putin even before heformally took office as President in May 2000 are a good illustration of theRussian identity crisis. The National Security Concept has inherited boththe unipolarity/multipolarity dichotomy and the notion of the primacy ofinternal security threats. The Military Doctrine continues to see theWestern alliance as the principal potential adversary, but increasingly hasto take account of the real and likely contingencies along Russia’s southernperiphery. The recurrent theme of the Russian foreign and security policydebate is the absence of allies and the confusion about the adversaries.Typically, top Russian officials in the spring of 1999 branded the NATOcountries as aggressors while at the same time reaching out to the EUmembers as partners in conflict management, simply ignoring the largelyoverlapping membership of the two organizations.

What are the available options for exiting from the crisis and adopting aclearer view of the outside world and Russia’s place in it?

One is marginalization, as a result of Russia’s continued economic andsocial decline. Beyond a certain line, the decline will place Russia in thecategory of a failed state. Two exits are possible from that low point.Either a new brutally nationalistic regime will emerge, externalizing thenation’s frustrations and casting Russia into the role of a rogue state, or thecountry will disintegrate, creating a gigantic vortex in the middle ofEurasia, placing many neighbouring states on the verge of a precipice.

The opposite scenario is integration. Instead of integrating other landsand nations into an ever greater Russia, this scenario calls on the Russiansto make a conscious choice in favour of one of the principal poles ofattraction, and attempt to fit Russia in. In theory, the EU/Europe offers theonly credible option. Economically, Russia gravitates towards westernEurope. Politically, integrated Europe is the most powerful constellation ofcountries on Russia’s periphery. In civilizational terms, Russia is closest toits western neighbours. In practice, for the foreseeable future, Russia—in-the-EU is either a fantasy or a nightmare. The distance separating it not


only from long-standing members of the Union, but its aspirants in centraland eastern Europe, is growing. Unlike NATO’s enlargement, the easternexpansion of the EU can eventually draw a dividing line between Russiaand the rest of Europe.

Russia’s structural problem is that it has become too small to standseparately but continues to be too big and too difficult to be absorbed byinternational, i.e. Western, institutions. In any event, before it can seriouslycontemplate integration, Russia needs to fulfil a formidable domesticagenda. Now and for the foreseeable future, Russia’s principal business isRussia itself.

Thus, there is a need to practise self-concentration. Russia’s elites willhave to recognize that unless they display responsibility and lead the reformprocess, not only will the country go under but chaos and confusion willprobably set in, endangering the elites’ position, possession, and their veryexistence. Those who care about the country’s status in the world agreethat a strong Russia is the one with a sound economic foundation,healthier social relations and practising a genuine form of democracy andfederalism. A policy of self-concentration is not one of self-isolation.Rather than see itself as fundamentally different from the rest of the world,such a policy will seek to find ways to make Russia compatible with themore advanced parts of the world, in order to integrate with them on morefavourable terms.

According to this approach, foreign policy is a resource, and not a drainon resources. Moscow’s foreign policy ambitions need to be scaled downeven more, leaving only a handful of key interests that can be protected orpromoted. Russian diplomacy’s main mission will be to create the bestexternal conditions for domestic transformation. Russia will not be able todevelop its economy without massive foreign investment and a flow ofadvanced technology and know-how. Even before this becomes possible,Russia will need to agree with its foreign creditors about the debt issue,which can substantially advance or retard the economic recovery. Onemajor prerequisite for Russian growth and integration, in the broadestsense of the word, is endowing the country with thousands of modernmanagers, civil servants and other highly trained professionals. This, too,cannot be done without international cooperation and some form offoreign aid.

Russia’s international identity will be informed by the emerging nationalidentity. ‘Joining Europe’, from this point of view, is above all a domesticproject, whose success or failure will be decided in the classrooms aroundRussia, and not in some intricate negotiations with or in Brussels.

How probable is each of the three outcomes? A decade after the end ofcommunism and the collapse of the empire, marginalization, with all itspotentially dangerous overtones, is still a serious threat. Russian elitesremain greedy and short-sighted. For them, personal interests dominate and

RUSSIA’S EMERGING INTERNATIONAL IDENTITY 35

common good is non-existent. The public is disappointed, disillusioned anddisoriented. If anything, they would support the traditional Russian remedyof authoritarianism to bring the house in order. Humiliation suffered byRussia in the world arena in the 1990s provides a breeding ground forrevisionism, nationalism and chauvinism.

A return to isolation and confrontation, a product of domesticdevelopment, can be facilitated by a number of international attitudes anddevelopments, some of which are considered below.

Should ‘temptation of containment’ of Russia or even the ‘Russiafatigue’ prevail over the effort of engagement, this will be echoed byRussian xenophobes and isolationists. Should the USA choose to neglectRussia’s opposition to the National Missile Defence plans, and fail to reachan acceptable compromise with Moscow over the issue, a showdown willbe difficult to avoid. In the worst scenario, arms control can becomeseverely crippled, Moscow will attempt a nuclear build-up, and thedomestic reform agenda can be twisted or scuttled altogether. Otherdevelopments that can push Russia back to the Soviet-style pattern ofbehaviour include NATO’s invitation to the Baltic States to join thealliance, and demonstration of US/NATO involvement in the newlyindependent states, especially Ukraine and the Caspian region. Theprobability of this option will be enhanced if external processes reach theirpeak against the background of yet another severe economic crisis inRussia itself, which cannot be ruled out in the medium term.

Integration, on the other hand, is not a realistic option over the mediumterm. Russia’s chances of making an economic turnaround are minimal. A‘Russian miracle’ is definitely not in the offing. Indeed, the gap between theadvanced countries in Europe and Asia, on the one hand, and Russia onthe other is likely to grow wider, pushing Russia further towards theperiphery of international economics and politics. Under these conditions,the main purpose of the integrationist project is to serve as both an anchorand a beacon. The demonstration effect upon Russia of its former satellites(Poland, Hungary) and provinces (the Baltics) making swift economicprogress will not be entirely lost on the Russian publics.

Self-concentration is not only the rational, but also the optimal choice. Itappeals to the pragmatists and does not provoke the ideologues. It allowsthe rulers to buy time until the population is ready to embrace a positivenational goal. It would avoid unnecessary conflicts with more powerfulstates. However, the odds against drafting and implementing this policy areenormous.

History is not bunk. Russia will never be able to become a Sweden or aPoland. However, when and if it finally rises from the ashes, it will notresemble the old phoenix. It will be a very different bird.


5Putin’s Foreign Policy after 11 September:

Radical or Revolutionary?

ALEX PRAVDA

Politicians and analysts hailed President Putin’s international movesfollowing 11 September 2001 as a remarkable departure in Russia’s foreignpolicy. Western politicians were quick to greet active Russian support forthe war against terrorism as marking the real end of the Cold War. TheBritish Prime Minister Tony Blair was particularly enthusiastic inwelcoming Moscow’s ready cooperation as drawing the decisive line underall remnants of hostility between Russia and the West and ushering in thepost-Cold-War era.1

President George W. Bush echoed Blair in praising Putin as a true friendand an enlightened leader with an internationalist vision strong enough toovercome the doubts of many in Moscow and to ally with the USA againstthe terrorist threat. In siding rapidly and actively with the West after 11September, Putin was seen to have resolved the ambiguities of the Yeltsinera, and as having made Russia a strategic ally and an integral part of thecivilized world.

One may discount some of this instant assessment as part of the politicalhyperbole that usually accompanies dramatic international events,especially when they are on the scale of 11 September. More telling for ourpurposes is the fact that serious analysts of Russia interpreted Putin’smoves as a revolutionary departure in Russia’s foreign policy. One of themost respected observers of the Russian political scene, Lilia Shevtsova,described the steps taken by Putin as a revolutionary and fundamentalbreak, a paradigm leap in Russian foreign policy.2

This chapter raises three sets of questions about Putin’s post-Septemberpolicies and advances three general arguments. First, how great a departuredid Russian foreign policy following 11 September actually represent? Isthere a complete break, a caesura, between Putin’s moves before and afterSeptember? I argue that post-September steps reflect a remarkableradicalization of features discernible in Putin’s earlier policies. Let us beclear: viewing the reaction to 11 September as a radical rather thanrevolutionary turn in Putin’s foreign policy is not to deny its importance asa shift of strategic significance. It simply avoids falling into the trap of

exaggerating pendulum swings in Russian policy and misinterpreting theshift as a complete departure from previous approaches and practices.

Closely related is a second set of questions about the factors shaping themoves after 11 September. Does post-September policy reflect thinking thatis sufficiently innovative to warrant talking about revolutionary policy andparadigm leap? More precisely, what kind of foreign policy thinking shouldwe associate with Putin? Let us distinguish, very crudely, between, on theone hand, a realist perspective, proceeding from concerns with materialcapabilities and relative state advantage, and on the other a liberalperspective, based on institutional cooperation which increases absolutegains. Putin can best be understood as a pragmatic modern realist whothinks in power categories and sees the world as intensely competitive. Asfar as Russia’s place in the world is concerned, Putin continues to think in‘great power’ terms. Those more liberal-minded members of Moscow’spolicy class who acknowledge the decisive importance of economic factorsin international affairs, insist that Russia will long be a power of the secondrank. For Putin, the prominence of economic factors does not mean Russiamust reconcile itself to modest international status. Moscow has to use allavailable resources to become more economically competitive, precisely inorder to be able to play its inherent great power role. At the same time,Putin realizes that a weak international economic hand means that Moscowhas to play an especially skilful game, taking full advantage of allopportunities, hence his rapid response to 11 September.

How stable and robust are the policies that flowed from this response?This forms the core of the third and last set of questions the chapteraddresses. Many have asked how long Putin can pursue active cooperationin the face of widespread criticism within the elite, especially the military.That is not the main problem. The Kremlin can withstand such criticism aslong as the President himself remains committed to the post-Septemberline. Putin’s commitment depends not so much on the amount of elitegrumbling as on how he personally assesses the balance of costs andbenefits. That in turn hinges on how far Washington meets theexpectations of reciprocity which underpinned Moscow’s policy of activecooperation after 11 September. A lack of American reciprocity is likely toencourage Russia to cooperate more closely with Europe. How close suchcooperation, whether with Brussels or Washington or both, becomes in thelonger term depends on fundamental issues of compatibility betweenRussia and the leading states of the international community. As thechapter concludes, it is not simply a matter of Russia competing effectivelyon world markets. In order to become an integral part of that community,Russia needs to become a ‘competition state’, and that requires the kind ofpluralist democracy that scarcely fits in with Putin’s domestic politicalagenda.


WHAT KIND OF A BREAK IN POLICY?

The bold and dramatic manner in which Putin extended support to Bushand the American war on terrorism has tended to colour assessment of thepolicies followed by Moscow in the wake of 11 September. They are tooeasily seen as a revolutionary break with Russian foreign policy in the laterYeltsin period and even in the pre-September months of Putin’s presidency.There is no doubt that the terrorist attacks on New York and Washingtontriggered cooperation from Moscow that was far more active and willinglygiven than any political and security help over the previous decade. At issueis the question of how much of a break September actually marks and inwhat areas its distinctiveness lies.

The break is more evident in the way in which Moscow conducted policytowards the West rather than in the thrust of substantive action oncontentious issues. Under Yeltsin, and especially in the later 1990s, thevoice of Russian foreign policy mixed pledges of friendship withincreasingly loud tones of protest, whether over NATO expansion ormilitary action in the Balkans. There was much indignation about‘unipolar’ tendencies, the excessive power of the USA in all areas; officialspeeches and documents pronounced on the need for Russia to helpreinforce a multipolar world. Sitting uneasily alongside commitments tocooperation there was a rhetoric of irritated assertiveness and appealing toothers, such as China, to help constrain the world hegemon. On coming tooffice, Putin continued to use both vocabularies though he soon ceasedhighlighting multipolarity. The language was often tough, particularly onsecurity issues, but more straightforward than that of the later 1990s. Formuch of the first 18 months of his presidency Putin seemed to be feeling hisway, trying out a range of diplomatic initiatives to strengthen Russia’scredentials as a cooperative player to be reckoned with on the world stage.Where Western leaders showed readiness for closer relations, Putinresponded in a more sober but more consistent manner than Yeltsin. At hismeetings with Bush, in Ljubljana and Genoa, the Russian President tried toestablish a climate of personal trust and seemed partly successful in doingso. These new presidential links did not seem to narrow differences onissues such as the ABM treaty, which remained a bone of contentionthrough the summer of 2001. But the relative success of his contacts withBush encouraged Putin to use the personal approach in the aftermath of 11September. The Russian President was the first foreign leader to call theWhite House after the attacks, and through the months that followed Putincontinued to place a heavy emphasis on direct contact with Bush, on whatGorbachev used to call ‘the human factor’ in international relations. It wasperhaps in part because of his personal investment in the relationship thatPutin took pains to avoid slipping into the traditional Russian vocabularyof complaint and indignation at every unfavourable turn in events. He

PUTIN’S FOREIGN POLICY AFTER 11 SEPTEMBER 39

played down what many in Moscow regarded as highly objectionabledevelopments, such as news in early 2002 of increased US military presencein central Asia and the Caucasus, and asked that they not beoverdramatized. In the realm of style and presentation, then, thedifferences between pre- and post- September are considerable.

When we move from presentation and rhetoric to substantive action, thegap is smaller if still significant. The contrast between Russian policybefore and after September is less marked than it might first appear. Oncloser inspection, Moscow under Yeltsin was more collaborative in actionthan words. Active cooperation after September was less extensive andmore contingent than the accompanying declarations of solidarity andalliance might lead one to believe. Through the most acrimoniousexchanges of the later 1990s, the Kremlin held fast to its established line ofcooperation with the West, largely because Moscow understood that openconflict might jeopardize political inclusion and, not least, the flow ofeconomic support. While continuing to fulminate against the idea of NATOexpansion, Moscow eventually accepted its inevitability and negotiated anew relationship with the organization in the shape of the 1997 FoundingAct. Criticism of NATO action in Bosnia continued alongside politicalcooperation within the Contact Group. The high tensions whichsurrounded Kosovo in 1999 did not prevent Russia from eventuallycollaborating with the Western powers in order to avoid political isolation.Even the last-minute ‘dash’ to take Pristina airport was in essence asymbolic move to try to stake out a claim to territory in a peacekeepingoperation which involved cooperation with Western forces.3 In formerYugoslavia as elsewhere, Russian assertiveness under Yeltsin had a self-limiting quality.4

Putin was sensitive to the flaws of self-limiting assertiveness whichbrought Russia neither the international reputation she sought as anaspiring great power nor the full fruits of partnership with the advancedindustrial states her economy needed. For the first 18 months, Putin seemedto be trying to carve out a more consistent line which would marry thebenefits of cooperation with the dignity of great power status. The events of11 September seemed to offer him the opportunity of cooperating with theUSA on a basis of partnership. Many of the moves associated with whatmay be called a policy of dignified cooperation were dictated by theextraordinary and rapid changes in the international environment.

Let us review briefly the extent and depth of Moscow’s supportivemoves. We have already noted the rapid and unqualified nature of theKremlin’s declaration of political solidarity with the USA and the West inthe war against terrorism. While Putin had little choice about expressinggeneral sympathy, he could have qualified his support for Americanmilitary interventionist action, as Moscow had done on previousoccasions. There were no efforts to use the situation to coordinate critical


stances with China and Third World states. On the contrary, at the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) Shanghai summit in mid-October, heexpressed none of the concerns about proportionate reaction shared bysome participants and backed a full military campaign against globalterrorism.5 Such solidarity was confirmed in a joint Russian-US statementon countering terrorism.

New in its degree and forcefulness, Russian solidarity with America onthis issue reflected a radicalization of Putin’s established position oncombating terrorism. From the outset, he had identified terrorism as themain threat to the security of Russia and had blamed militant Islamicnetworks for destabilizing the north Caucasus as well as central Asia.Moscow had repeatedly called for cooperation and a commoninternational front against terrorism and depicted Russia as the natural allyof the West, or more accurately the North, against terrorist threats fromthe South.6 The events of 11 September created ideal conditions for justsuch a common front, with cooperation admirably serving establishedRussian security interests. So there is an important continuity of purpose atplay here.

What was striking about Russian collaboration was the extent ofoperational support involved. Putin broke new ground in the range anddepth of help he provided for the US campaign against the Taliban.7 Thisoperational help ranged from intelligence collaboration to aid in accessingmilitary facilities in the region. The sharing of intelligence with the USAwas managed through a coordinating group. This operated effectively andMoscow reportedly provided more valuable information than any NATOally. References by Sergei Ivanov, the Minister of Defence, to the need forreciprocity suggest that Moscow saw the Americans as reluctant to matchRussian intelligence provision.8 Cooperation on the Afghan campaignencouraged the development of closer general contacts between intelligenceservices; February 2002 saw the first visit to Washington by a head ofRussian military intelligence.

Significant operational support for the campaign against the Taliban alsocame in the shape of Russian aid to the Northern Alliance on whichWashington had to rely for ground forces. While Moscow strenuouslydenied having any servicemen in Afghanistan, there were reports thatbetween 1,000 and 2,000 Russian technicians, pilots and military adviserswere helping the Northern Alliance in their operations. All told, theAlliance benefited from an estimated US$30–45 million worth of militaryaid.9 Contributing such resources to the anti-Taliban campaign did notnecessarily always serve the common cause, as defined by Washington.Moscow used its long-standing military and political links with theNorthern Alliance to further its own agenda. The Russians reportedlyencouraged their Afghan allies to move fast to take Kabul and themselves


acted quickly to establish a substantial diplomatic presence in the capitaland promote a purely Northern Alliance provisional government.10

The mixed quality of Russian help also extends to the contribution thatMoscow made to clearing the way for American use of military facilities incentral Asia. Initially, both Putin and Ivanov were cautious about theinvolvement of any CIS states in military action against Afghanistan.11 The24 September presidential speech on active cooperation marked a turningpoint and was followed by far more helpful statements on specific facilitiesto be made available in the states bordering Afghanistan. Russian supportin central Asia came in two forms: active help and facilitatingacquiescence. Active help was most clearly evident in the case ofTajikistan, the only central Asian state which can be described as a de factoRussian protectorate. Moscow made available its air base near Dushanbefor retaliatory strikes against the Taliban and must have played a decisivepart in persuading the Tajik government to overcome its initial reluctanceto host US forces.

In the cases of Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan, the Russian role was moreone of acquiescence to these states cooperating with the Americans. Suchacquiescence played a facilitation role. If the decisions to respond positivelyto Washington’s requests for help were taken in Bishkek and Tashkent, abenevolent or at least neutral attitude on Moscow’s part eased the way.Even Karimov, with his record of independence within the CIS, might havecontinued to hesitate to accept the attractive American deals on offer toUzbekistan without knowing that Moscow could live with the outcome.12

Russian readiness to accept a US military presence in central Asiareflected a more flexible stance on the broader issue of NATO influencewithin the CIS. This certainly represented a break with policy underYeltsin. Through the later 1990s, Moscow talked about the unacceptabilityof NATO expanding beyond a kind of Red Line around the borders of theCIS. Under Putin, statements about NATO reach became less categorical.This is not to claim that Putin clearly signalled his later tolerance of USpresence in central Asia. Rather, it is to suggest that even before Septemberhis stance on these issues highlighted a greater capacity for pragmaticflexibility.

While the events of 11 September brought about a step-change inRussian tolerance of US military presence in central Asia, they seemed tomake less difference to Putin’s view of NATO expansion into the BalticStates. During his visit to the USA in November 2001, the RussianPresident conceded that the Baltic States had the right to join NATO if theyso wished. Yet such resigned tolerance was not a product of the 11September. The week before the terrorist attacks Putin had stated thatMoscow recognized the right of the Baltic States, like any others, to seekNATO membership even if he added that there was no objective reason fortheir wish to do so.13 Nor was the line on NATO in general radically


altered by September. On his visit to Brussels in early October, Putin heldout the prospect of Moscow reconsidering opposition to NATOenlargement if it moved from a military alliance to become a politicalorganization—a common refrain of Russian policy. He even added that 11September showed the urgent need for such an evolution, since the attackshad revealed the inadequacy of NATO as a security provider.14

PRAGMATISM OR PARADIGM LEAP?

Even if there is less of a break between Russian policy before and after 11September than might first appear, the new quality of active cooperationwith the USA still calls for explanation. To make sense of post-Septemberpolicies, do we need to identify a shift in policy paradigm, a presidentialreversion, perhaps, to the neoliberalism of the Gorbachev era and the firstyear or so of the Yeltsin period? I would contend that we do not.Interpreting post-September Russian foreign policy in terms of pragmaticresponses flowing from modern realist predispositions and priorities takesus a long way. The experience of September and managing its policyaftermath undoubtedly catalysed some changes in the weighting ofpriorities, but these did not amount to a paradigm shift.

From the beginning of his presidency, Putin took a pragmatic andcalculating approach to the conduct of foreign policy. Pragmatism andpredictability were the features given pride of place in official statements.15

Putin deliberately fostered the image of a cool, controlled decision maker.Among the President’s qualities, one that has struck observers forcefullywas described by the editor of the Wall Street Journal as ‘enormousearnestness’.16 For Putin, foreign policy, as politics and public service ingeneral, is too serious a matter to be dealt with in an emotional andideological manner. It calls for a businesslike managerial approach focusingon effectiveness and the efficient use of resources. The Yeltsin years—andindeed the Gorbachev era—could be seen as graphically demonstrating thepitfalls of a foreign policy led by emotion and ideological vision. Thelessons of these decades surely reinforced Putin’s temperamentalpredisposition to take a dispassionate and pragmatic approach, and thiscame through strongly after September.

One can see two types of pragmatic behaviour at work in Putin’sresponses: passive and active. Both were visible to some extent beforeSeptember and brought out more sharply by the sudden change in theinternational environment. Under the ‘passive’ heading comes what mightbe called reasoned acquiescence—Putin’s readiness to accept powerfuladverse developments. It is within this framework that one should view thetolerance the Kremlin showed towards US military presence in central Asiaand the prospect of NATO expansion into the Baltic States. These policyshifts were essentially decisions not to protest or try to move against


developments over which Moscow had little leverage. At best, theexpenditure of very considerable resources would have yielded meagrereturns. Here Putin seems to have drawn lessons from the ineffectiveness ofpast Russian campaigns of noisy protest against NATO enlargement andWestern military action in the Balkans. Plagued by its own self-limitingassertiveness and others’ overwhelming resources, Moscow’s campaignshad exposed the disparity between rhetoric, policy stance, action on theground and actual impact on developments. The damaging consequencesfor Russia’s credibility were especially clear to a leader like Putin whoplaced so much emphasis on the importance of Russia’s image in the worldas a serious international actor.17 Building such a reputation involvedavoiding dramatic, half-hearted gestures to obstruct developments drivenby forces largely beyond Russian control. It was this kind of pragmaticreasoning that induced Putin well before September, in the early 2001discussions on Russia’s debt, to come down on the side of those in theRussian economic establishment who rejected suggestions of non-paymentand argued for observing the internationally recognized rules of the game.

The general thrust and dynamism of post-September cooperation makessense if we also see it in terms of an active pragmatism, the opportunisticand flexible use of Russia’s foreign policy resources to maximizeinternational returns. This approach emerged much earlier than September.Soon after becoming president, Putin made active use of opportunities tocapitalise on Moscow’s links with Soviet-era allies to try to boost Russia’sstanding as a cooperative member of the international community. At theJuly 2000 G8 summit he capitalized on a high-profile visit to Pyonyang,made en route to the meeting, to put forward a package designed to preventthe development of a North Korean ballistic missile programme. Eventhough the proposals ultimately failed to yield any real progress, theiradroit presentation at the summit helped to establish Putin’s reputationamong his G8 colleagues as an effective leader with whom they could dobusiness. In response to the subsequent cooling of relations withWashington, associated with the early Bush administration, Putin tried touse links with Europe and differences over the ABM treaty to bring theattention of the USA to the need to take Russia more seriously as apartner.

The events of 11 September created a remarkable opportunity to makeuse of Russia’s resources to raise the country’s international standing. TheAmerican need to destroy the Taliban and the al-Qaeda network in centralAsia brought about a highly favourable shift in what might be called theoverall terms of trade in Russia’s relations with the USA. Washington’surgent operational needs suddenly raised the value of Moscow’s diplomaticsupport and, particularly, of its military and security assets in the region.Russian resources and cooperation became more valuable to the USA thanat any time since the end of the Soviet Union. Putin seized the opportunity


to take advantage of the inflated value of his resources to improve Russia’sstanding with the USA and, more widely, to strengthen its position in whatin Soviet times had been termed the international correlation of forces.Here was an unprecedented chance to put on the international scalessecurity assets which might help make up in overall standing for Russia’schronic lack of economic power. Taking advantage of 11 September bycooperating with the USA, rather than standing to one side, could enableMoscow to punch above its economic and technological weight on theworld stage.

Beyond such potential general advantages, September also held out theprospect of active cooperation bringing gains for Moscow in four specificareas. The first was Chechnya. By making al-Qaeda the most importantsingle international threat for Washington, the events of 11 September inthemselves inclined the Americans to take a far more sympathetic view oflong-standing Russian complaints about Islamic terrorism, in general andal-Qaeda in particular, in disrupting Chechnya. Putin was particularlyvehement in denouncing the opposition in Chechnya as bandits and hadlong regarded the reimposition of control over this troublesome republic ashis ‘historical mission’. His strength of feeling on the subject made it likelyPutin would see any war against terrorism as a common cause.Cooperating actively in such a war had a double attraction. It couldproduce more international sympathy with the methods used by Russiaagainst the Chechen opposition or at least stem the criticism levelled atMoscow. Further, cooperation with the USA could help strengthenMoscow’s hand against any attempts by al-Qaeda and the Taliban inretaliation against US attacks to cause trouble in the north Caucasus.

A similar hope figured in the second area where Moscow looked fordividends: ex-Soviet central Asia. Long before September, Moscow hadidentified the Taliban as the main threat to stability in the region and as asource of inspiration and material support for the fundamentalist Islamicmovements that were causing growing problems for the governments ofTajikistan and Uzbekistan. In summer 2000 there was even talk ofbombing Taliban targets, but this was ultimately considered too risky. Thecentral Asian states had inadequate forces to withstand serious counter-attacks and the Russian troops in the region were overstretched.18 Joiningthe US campaign certainly posed some potential risks of attractingretaliation, yet Putin could have no confidence that this would be avoidedby staying on the sidelines. In any case, close, and even allied, relationswith the USA would enhance security in Russia’s southern arc of instability.

The last two sets of expected dividends from cooperation lay beyond thisarc and involved global issues. On the political and security fronts, Putinmight reasonably have thought that support for Washington in its hour ofneed would ease the negotiation of a compromise solution to the vexedquestion of missile defence and the ABM treaty, which had long troubled


relations with the USA and was the main focus of tensions in 2001.Russian cooperation in central Asia could also bring American reciprocityin the economic field. Moscow harboured hopes of US help in reschedulingher large international debt and in advancing towards membership of theWorld Trade Organization.

Interpreting active cooperation after 11 September in terms of pragmaticcalculation takes us quite a long way towards understanding the decisionsmade in the Kremlin. But any attempt to gain a deeper appreciation ofthese decisions must look at the ideas and values that shaped the prioritiesand defined the weightings of the various elements in Putin’s cost/benefitreckoning. One approach is to attempt to locate Putin in terms of twoperspectives which have influenced Russian foreign policy thinking, invarying degree at different stages over the decade. The first is essentiallyrealist, proceeding from a notion of national interest based on materialcapability and on achieving influence, power and prestige in a highlycompetitive world. Widespread within the Moscow policy class, andespecially within the security establishment, this perspective is associatedwith the idea of Russia as a great power which deserves to play a prominentrole in world affairs. A more modest role for Russia, as a power of thesecond rank, forms part of the second, liberal, perspective. Most commonlyfound among the advocates of pluralist political democracy and marketreform, this view highlights the prime importance of economicperformance in international affairs. Development of an efficient marketeconomy is seen as the only path to prosperity and security at home andinfluence abroad. The best way for foreign policy to help the countryadvance along this path is to cooperate and integrate with the leadingdeveloped states and international organizations. In its strongest version,this perspective sees cooperation with states and internationalorganizations yielding benefits to all. In the liberal view, cooperation andintegration are safe as well as necessary, since they tend to produceabsolute gains rather than the relative ones inherent in the competitiveworld that remains central to the realist perspective.

Putin may be best described as a sophisticated modern realist. Heappreciates the economic as well as security components of state power. Heunderstands that Russia has to cooperate with the Western-dominatedinternational system in order to make any headway in what remains aworld of competitive states. Putin’s professional experience helps accountfor his views on security issues. He is traditionally realist in seeing securityas essential to the vigour of the Russian state and central to the Kremlin’sdomestic and international priorities. Where security resources areconcerned, Putin take a more modern realist view. He seems critical oftraditional military concerns with quantitative issues in the nuclear orconventional field. For Putin, it is the quality of resources that matters, andthis applies not just to ‘hard’ military capabilities but to also ‘soft’ security


areas. The key to both lies in a vigorous and advanced economy. Thissophisticated understanding of security needs reinforces an emphasis oneconomic development that also stems from Putin’s state-building agenda.His central project is to build a strong modern state capable of deliveringorder and plenty at home and the capacity to compete effectively within theinternational system. Putin is keenly aware of the enormous distance theRussian economy has to travel before being capable of meeting thesedomestic and international objectives. Awareness of the need to catch upwith the developed West lies behind his insistence on rapid growth. Inspring 2002, he urged the government to be far more ambitious in itsgrowth targets.19

On this and related issues, Putin identifies with the most radical of theliberal economists. He shares their conviction that the best way forwardfor Russia is through adjustment to and adoption of international marketcapitalist standards. In other words, Putin takes important elements fromthe liberal perspective, but he factors them into a modern realist frameworkand a grander vision of Russia’s international role. For liberals, Russia canat best become a more prosperous and more influential power of thesecond rank. For Putin, Russia is inherently a great power, by virtue of itshistory and its scientific, cultural and spiritual resources.20 Putin sees hismission in somewhat de Gaullist terms, as bringing about national revivaland ensuring that Russia achieves the international position it deserves byright.21

Economic dynamism through integration is a necessary rather thansufficient condition for achieving this position. On the one hand, Putinbelieves in close involvement, and in June 2002 underlined the need for‘total immersion’ in the world economy.22 On the other hand, he retains arealist view of the international environment. Russia, he told the FederalAssembly in April 2002, had to be strong and competitive as she wouldhave to ‘fight’ for its ‘place in the sun’.23 In this competitive climate, theway ahead for Russia still lies through cooperative relations with the mostpowerful states and membership in the key organisations. But incooperating, Russia must safeguard its national interests, as do all otherstates. In Putin’s perspective, cooperation and integration must be practicalstrategies to maximize influence and standing.

HOW ROBUST IS POST-SEPTEMBERCOOPERATION?

The policy of active cooperation appears fragile on two main fronts:domestic criticism and inadequate Western reciprocity. Manycommentators have pointed to the wide gap Putin’s responses to 11September opened up between the Kremlin and large segments of the policyelites in Moscow.24 Within the political class, critical comment ranged from


the predictable communist charges of national betrayal to more mainstreamdoubts about the dangers of siding overmuch with the USA. This couldexpose Russia to retaliation and bring little in compensating rewards fromWashington. In private discussions with Putin soon after the attacks on theUSA, the overwhelming majority of party leaders expressed scepticismabout giving the Americans full support.25 Such high levels of privatedissent were not reflected in any organized and effective political protest.The months following September saw none of the kinds of Duma protestwhich used to surface regularly in the earlier Yeltsin years in connectionwith pro-Western moves. And even those had little or no real impact onpolicy. Under Putin’s presidency, the Duma has become a largely tamelegislature unlikely to present the Kremlin with serious problems inpursuing its line of cooperation. This is especially the case as Putin’spopular standing remains high. After initial sympathy with the victims ofterrorism, large sections of the public expressed doubts about the extent ofRussian support being given as well as about the USA as a partner.26 Suchscepticism did not, however, translate into any appreciable decline ingeneral support for Putin’s foreign policy or in his impressive personalratings.27

The strongest scepticism about Putin’s cooperative stance came neitherfrom the public nor from politicians but from the executive, and especiallyfrom the foreign policy and military establishments. The usually cautiousForeign Minister Igor Ivanov, without voicing open criticism, expressedMoscow’s position in a discernibly less enthusiastic fashion, in turn himselfattracting scathing comment from Kremlin associates.28 Privately, manyRussian diplomats considered Putin’s moves unwise and would havepreferred a policy of ‘positive neutrality’.29 More open criticism came fromthe military elite. Predictably, the most extreme objections were voiced byretired communist and nationalist-minded officers, to some extent onbehalf of larger numbers of their serving colleagues.30 Far more serious forPutin was the apparent difficulty of overcoming doubts among leadingmilitary and security officials supposedly close to the Kremlin. SergeiIvanov, Minister of Defence and formerly secretary of the Security Council,in the immediate wake of the terrorist attacks seemed to rule out theAmerican use of military facilities in central Asia.31

While this was the first of several indications of the Defence Minister’smore cautious attitude to cooperation with the USA, it may have reflecteda lack of policy certainty and coordination in the early days after 11September. Widespread executive dissatisfaction with the policy wasperhaps intensified by irritation at being excluded from what was a narrowlypresidential decision-making process. There was apparently no meeting ofthe Security Council in the immediate aftermath of the September attacks.The key decisions seem to have been taken by Putin, in consultation with afew close advisers. Speculative reports about who might have influenced


Putin singled out civilians such as Sergei Prikhodko, Sergei Yastrzhembskiiand Mikhail Margelov.32 It is difficult to believe that Putin would not alsohave consulted his security chiefs and former St Petersburg securitycolleagues now in the presidential administration, although the actualdecision to provide the range of support announced on 24 September maywell have been made by the President himself. As a specialist in securitymatters, Putin would feel confident about taking personal decisions in thisarea. In any case, he had no apparent difficulty in translating his decisioninto policy and no serious problem in asserting his authority to silencepublic questioning of the consequences of his pro-US line. This was thecase with misgivings surrounding US bases in central Asia and theCaucasus, concerns about US withdrawal from the ABM treaty and thespread of US military presence to Georgia.

Unless something untoward happens, such as a major economic crisis, itis well within Putin’s capacity, as a highly popular and vigorous president,to manage critical pressures from the policy elites.

The kind of pressure likely to weaken active cooperation is far morelikely to come from within Putin’s close circle, and most of all from hisown doubts about the evolving balance of costs and benefits associatedwith the policy. In an important sense, the greatest vulnerability of thepolicy lies in its inherent shortcomings as a strategy. Following the events of11 September, Putin made a choice of strategic significance but did notdevelop a strategy to match.33 The decision to provide military supportdoes not appear to have formed part of an elaborated strategy. This wasperhaps one of the costs of the narrowly presidential decision-makingprocess. Little thinking seems to have been given to longer-termimplications or to alternative moves in case developments failed to followthe course initially assumed.

The working assumptions through September were that the Americanledcampaign would be long and hard-fought. This was a perfectly reasonablescenario, shared by most on the Western side. It was also reasonable tohope that Moscow’s close links with the Northern Alliance would give itconsiderable say in shaping the succession to the Taliban. By being anindispensable partner, Moscow might be able even to exercise someconstraint over Washington.34 In any case, the duration and difficulty ofthe conflict would prolong and deepen Washington’s indebtedness toMoscow and so increase the dividends of the active cooperation line.

In the event, such reasonable assumptions proved to be wrong and theUSA achieved its immediate objectives more quickly and easily than mosthad anticipated. Washington failed to respond in kind to the active supportextended by Moscow. Putin hoped his generous response would bring thefruits of partnership if not alliance; Bush conceded only the trappings of anew ‘strategic relationship’. Neither the presidential get-together at theCrawford ranch in November 2001 nor the Moscow summit of May 2002


saw major steps forward in the relationship. The defiant manner in whichthe President claimed success for his policy perhaps indicated his owngrowing concern about its effectiveness.35 From Putin’s standpoint,American moves in these months, across a range of issues, were hardlyencouraging. Criticism of Russian conduct in Chechnya soon resurfacedand was accompanied by adverse comment about the growing pressures onthe mass media. Even though Washington avoided taking any firm standon either issue, Moscow still interpreted the return of criticism of sensitivedomestic affairs as violating the spirit of post-September partnership.36

Further concern about American intentions was aroused by the way inwhich the US military appeared to be settling in for a long stay in centralAsia. Nor was Moscow reassured by statements from Washington that theUSA did not plan to establish permanent bases in the region but wouldmake use of them for however long proved necessary.37 Sensitivity aboutthe creeping extension of American influence into the Caucasus washeightened by the sudden appearance of US military advisers in the PankisiGorge in March 2002. Putin had to assure critics that the deployment inGeorgia was neither a shock nor a tragedy, but he could not have been veryhappy about the way in which the move had been made.38

More damaging to Putin’s hopes for partnership behaviour from the USAwas the cavalier manner in which Washington proceeded on strategicnuclear issues. It simply gave Moscow a week’s notice of the US decision towithdraw unilaterally from the ABM treaty. Moscow had long regardedthe 1972 treaty as a symbol of stability in strategic relations, particularlysince Bush had begun his drive for the National Missile Defence (NMD)system. Putin had repeatedly expressed willingness to amend the treaty in away sufficiently permissive to allow development of the NMD. Whileshrugging off the demise of the ABM, the Russian President must have beendisappointed by Bush’s stubbornness. Similar American obstinacy appearedin the negotiations on nuclear arms cuts. Washington agreed to reducewarheads to a level of 1,700–2,200 over a ten-year period. The subsequentannouncement of plans to store a large proportion of the old warheads incase of future need aroused critical comment from Moscow. Despitecontinued Russian concerns, the Americans refused to change their plans sothat the arms reduction treaty signed at the Moscow summit in May 2002had little substantial importance. For Putin, the substantive military issuesmattered less than the political signals that these American movesconveyed. They scarcely reciprocated the kind of partnership attitudesMoscow had tried to exhibit in September.

Nor did such attitudes stand out in American handling of the difficultquestions of Russia’s relations with Iran and Iraq. There was apparently noconsultation with Moscow before Bush’s denunciation of the ‘axis of evil’in February 2002 which Putin tried to play down as an emotional speechmade for domestic purposes.39 It was left to Sergei Ivanov, as Defence


Minister, to reiterate that Moscow would not support US military actionagainst Iraq. In order to avoid a situation which would place Moscow’srelations with Washington under great strain, Russia continued to promotea political solution to the problem within a UN framework. Should politicalmethods fail, Moscow’s adverse reaction to US military action againstBaghdad still seems likely to be moderate, particularly if the Kremlinreceives assurances that any new Iraqi regime would safeguard Russianeconomic interests.40 National economic interests also figured prominentlyin Moscow’s stance on its relations with Iran. Throughout the monthsfollowing the ‘axis of evil’ speech, Putin stood firm on Russian involvementin building Iranian nuclear power reactors. He countered continuingAmerican objections by accusing Washington of double standards andpointing to US involvement in nuclear plant construction in North Korea.41

What emerges clearly from the case of both Iraq and Iran is Putin’sdetermination to safeguard Russian strategic economic interests. Theeconomic balance sheet is central to the continued viability of the post-September line. Up to summer 2002, the picture here was mixed. FromMoscow’s standpoint, trade relations with the USA remained burdened, ifonly symbolically, by the long afterlife of the Jackson-Vanik Agreement.Washington did, however, fulfil its pledge to recognize Russia as a marketeconomy and showed other signs of helping to support Moscow’s bid tojoin the World Trade Organization (WTO). Full admission to the G8,announced at its June 2002 gathering, also went some way to meeting theKremlin’s expectation of greater inclusion in the key international clubs.

One important litmus test of the willingness to include Russia continuedto be Western attitudes to Moscow’s relations with NATO. The proposalput forward by Prime Minister Tony Blair in November 2001 to create anew Russia—North Atlantic Council was clearly an effort to make a newlycooperative Kremlin feel appreciated. Objections to the scheme inWashington, especially from the Defence Department, diluted its contentand reinforced Russian doubts about its value.42 Apart from being moreinclusive in presentational terms, the new Council of 20, with decision-making rights on selected issues, seemed to give Moscow relatively littlenew of substance. The military reacted to the scheme with predictablescepticism43 and even Putin felt the need to underscore Moscow’sdetermination to have its voice heard and its interests taken into account.44

Moscow expected some real progress towards transforming NATO from adefensive alliance into a political organization dealing with securitythroughout Greater Europe.

On this and other issues, Moscow found many west Europeangovernments more amenable than the USA. As of mid-2002, it lookedlikely that the disappointing dividends yielded by active cooperation withthe US might incline Putin increasingly to turn his attention to Europe.There are good economic and political reasons for the president to focus on


Europe to further his agenda of making Russia a more integral and morecompetitive and weighty member of the international community. The EUhas long been Russia’s most important trading partner and the source ofhalf of total inward investment. The EU was helpful in advancingMoscow’s case for joining the World Trade Organization, just beating theUSA in recognizing Russia as a market economy. In security terms, the EUand the major European states offer a potential counterweight to Americandominance in NATO and also some possible influence over Washington.45

Putin seems also to have some personal inclination to see Russia asinherently oriented towards Europe. And there is a widespread feelingwithin the policy class, and the political public, that Europe and the EUrepresent the most benign face of the West, more accessible and potentiallymost profitable for a Russia seeking to modernize and integrate.

Even so, Russia’s contacts with Europe have long been beset by the slow,bureaucratic nature of the way the EU manages external relationships. Theelaborate framework of processes is too wide and insufficiently focused.Questions such as access to Kaliningrad, where progress would help buildwider confidence, remained unresolved in mid-2002. One might haveexpected the Kremlin to display particular flexibility on the visa issue inorder to improve Russia’s standing with the EU, yet Putin adhered toentrenched positions and even criticized Brussels for trying to imposeunacceptable solutions.46

The disagreements over visa regimes in Kaliningrad flag a fundamentalproblem that Russia is likely to encounter in its efforts to promoteintegration with the West in general and with Europe in particular. Even ifRussia makes good progress on economic, security and general politicalissues, it might come up against a normative barrier. Putin’s notion of amanaged democracy does not fit well with the liberal requirements for the‘competition state’.47 Success on the domestic side of his project of buildinga strong modern state could make it more difficult for Putin to achieve hisambition to see Russia become a powerful, integrated and competitivemember of the international community.

NOTES

1. Trud, 6 October 2001.2. See the transcript of her talk, ‘Putin’s Domestic and Foreign Policy

Challenges’ given at the Carnegie Endowment, March 2002, reproduced inJohnson’s Russia List (hereafter JRL), no. 6121.

3. D.Lynch, ‘“Walking the Tightrope”: The Kosovo Conflict and Russia’,European Security, vol. 8, no. 4, 1999, pp. 57–83.

4. L.Aron, ‘The Foreign Policy Doctrine of Post-communist Russia: ItsDomestic Context’, in M. Mandelbaum (ed.), The New Russian ForeignPolicy (New York, 1998), p. 32.


5. O.Antonenko, ‘Putin’s Gamble’, Survival, vol. 43, no. 4, 2000/2002, p. 50.6. Putin, Russian television 8 July 2000, BBC Summary of World Broadcasts

(hereafter SWB), no. 3888; also see the Foreign Policy Concept, IT, 10 July2000, no. 3889; MID website, SWB no. 3890, B/5–12.

7. For Putin’s 24 September speech, see Kommersant, 25 September 2001,translated in Current Digest of the Post-Soviet Press (hereafter CDPSP), vol,53, no. 39.

8. Kommersant, 28 September 2001.9. I.Korotchenko, Nezavisimaya gazeta, 4 October 2001; P.Felgengauer,

reported by Reuters, 9 October 2001.10. Izvestiya, 20 November 2001.11. Sovetskaya Rossiya, 18 September 2001.12. For estimates of financial benefits, see Moskovsky Komsomolets, 12

February, translated in the JRL, no. 6072.13. Putin in Helsinki, 3 September 2001, JRL, no. 5423.14. Nezavisimaya gazeta, 4 October 2001.15. Foreign Policy Concept, Nezavisimaya gazeta, 11 July 2000; Putin, 9 June

2000, SWB, no. 3864.16. See interview in JRL, no. 6072.17. Putin, 8 July 2000, SWB, no. 3888.18. For a review of the situation, see E.Akerman, ‘September 11: Implications for

Russia’s Central Asian Policy and Strategic Realignment’, Review ofInternational Affairs, vol. 1, no. 3, 2002, pp. 9–10.

19. Izvestiya, 9 April 2002.20. Itar-Tass, 10 July 2000, SWB, no. 3889.21. For his reported admiration of de Gaulle, see Wall Street Journal editor’s

comments in JRL, no. 6072.22. ORT, 24 June, SWB in JRL, no. 6322.23. Rossiiskaya gazeta, 19 April 2002, translated in CDPSP, vol. 54, no. 16.24. For instance, see Y.Fedorov, Moskovkskie Novosti, 16–22 October 2001;

V.Kulagin, Nezavisimaya gazeta, 27 March 2002, translated in CDPSP, vol.54, no. 13.

25. According to Yavlinsky, only 2 of the 21 present agreed with the President’sline; speech on 31 January 2002 at the Carnegie Endowment, in JRL, no.6061.

26. Izvestiya, 5 March 2002.27. Rossiiskaya gazeta, 9 January 2002.28. G.Pavlovsky’s sniping at Ivanov, smi.ru, 13 May 2002, in Radio Free Europe/

Radio Liberty (hereafter RFE/RL), Newsline, 14 May 2002.29. Y.Fedorov, Moskovkskie novosti, 16–22 October 2001.30. Sovetskaya Rossiya, 10 November 2001.31. Rossiiskaya gazeta, 15 September 2001.32. A.Golts and D.Pinsker, ‘Sovetniki tainye I deistvitelnye’, Yezhedelny

Zhurnal, no. 1, 15 January 2002, on www.ei.ru, translated in JRL, no. 6032.33. See the assessment of Dmitri Trenin, one of the most astute analysts of

Russian foreign and security policy, ‘Osennii marafon Vladimira Putina: krozhdeniyu rossiiskoi vneshnepoliticheskoi strategii’, Brifing MoskovskogoTsentra Karnegi, vol. 3, no. 11, November 2001.


34. V.Frolov, Moscow Times, 21 January 2002.35. Kommersant Daily, 23 May 2002.36. Putin, 15 January 2002 as reported by Reuters, JRL, no. 6025.37. Assistant Secretary of State E.Jones as reported by Agence France-Presse, 12

February 2002, JRL, no. 6072.38. V.Nikonov, Trud, 2 March 2002.39. Putin interview in the Wall Street Journal, 11 February 2002.40. Los Angeles Times, 22 May 2002, as cited in S.Charap, RFE/RL, Newsline,

11 July 2002.41. Reuters, 11 July 2002, JRL, no. 6351.42. S.Karaganov, Nezavisimaya gazeta, 28 February 2002.43. See the incisive analysis by Bobo Lo, ‘Integratsiya s ogoborkami? Rossiya,

NATO I evropeiskaya bezopasnost’, Institut nauchnoi informatsii poobshchestvennym naukam, tsentr izucheniyu problem evropeiskoibezopasnosti, Evropeiskaya Bezopasnost: sobitiya, otsenki, prognozy, no. 3.

44. RFE/RL, Newsline, 29 May 2002; for Kvashnin’s derogatory comments, seeI. Korotchenko, Nezavisimaya gazeta, 6 March 2002.

45. For excellent studies on Russia’s relations with the EU, see D.Gowan, HowCan the EU Help Russia, London: Centre for European Reform, 2000; andV.Baranovsky, Russia’s Attitudes towards the EU: Political Aspects,Helsinki: Finnish Institute of International Affairs, 2002.

46. RFE/RL, Newsline, 29 May 2002.47. For analysis of the ‘competition state’, see P.G.Cerny, ‘Paradoxes of the

Competition State: The Dynamics of Political Globalization’, vol. 32, no. 2,1997, pp. 251–74.


Part II:

Russia’s Road into Europe

6Russia and the Dual Expansion of Europe1

MARGOT LIGHT, JOHN LÖWENHARDT AND STEPHENWHITE

INTRODUCTION

In June 1997, the European Council, meeting in Amsterdam, recommendedthat the European Commission should begin negotiations for membershipof the EU with the governments of Cyprus, the Czech Republic, Estonia,Hungary, Poland and Slovenia. A month later, at a NATO summit inMadrid, invitations were issued to the governments of the Czech Republic,Hungary and Poland to begin accession talks. A process began ofseparating Europe into ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’. For no matter howfrequently NATO and EU officials say that they do not intend to redivideEurope, and no matter how many ‘partnership’ agreements they offer tonon-members, it is inevitable that admitting some countries to fullmembership of the two organizations and excluding others will produce‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’. Those countries that are neither EU ‘accession’states (the shorthand term used to refer to the six states in the process ofnegotiating membership) nor ‘pre-ins’ (as Slovakia, Latvia, Lithuania,Romania, Bulgaria and Malta were categorized in October 1999 when theEuropean Commission proposed opening negotiations for their accession)2

are, by definition, outsiders. Being outside affects the way people perceivethemselves and their environment. It also affects their relationships withboth insiders and fellow outsiders. Exclusion from the expanding NATOalliance influences outsiders’ security perceptions and the way they viewtheir role in Europe. The perception of exclusion, therefore, has importantconsequences for the domestic and foreign policies of outsider states.

Russia is the most important example of an excluded state, if onlybecause of its size and strategic significance. Notwithstanding then ActingPresident Vladimir Putin’s widely quoted throw-away remark to DavidFrost on 5 March 2000 that he could see no reason why Russia should notjoin NATO in due course, the Russian government does not seek EU orNATO membership.3 It does not object to EU enlargement, and does notmind if some of the Soviet successor states join the EU. It is vehemently

opposed to NATO expansion, however. It protested very strongly againstthe first round of expansion, and it opposes any further extension ofmembership, particularly if former Soviet states are permitted to join.NATO expansion affects Russia’s relationship both with NATO itself andwith those Soviet successor states that wish to join NATO or which appearto prefer better relations with it than with Russia and the CIS.

The EU and NATO have attempted to allay the anxiety of the Russiangovernment about the enlargement of the organizations. The EU concludeda Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA) with Russia in June1994, for example, but its ratification was delayed because of the first warin Chechnya and it only came into force on 1 December 1997. The EUTreaty of Amsterdam (adopted in June 1997) introduced a new policyinstrument: common strategies to be implemented in fields where EUmember states share important interests. When the treaty entered into forceon 1 May 1999, the first common strategy adopted by the EuropeanCouncil in June 1999 was the Common Strategy on Russia. The Russiangovernment responded later that year with its own medium-term Strategyfor the Development of Relations between the Russian Federation and theEuropean Union (2000–2010).4

Russia was a member of the North Atlantic Cooperation Council(NACC) from March 1992, and it became a member of the Euro-AtlanticPartnership Council (EAPC) which succeeded it in 1997. When NATOlaunched its Partnership for Peace (PfP) initiative in 1994, Russia signed aPfP Framework Document on 22 June 1994. And when NATO heads ofstate and government decided to enlarge NATO, they also began tonegotiate a separate charter with Russia, making great efforts to ensurethat it was adopted before the formal accession of new members. On 27May 1997, the Founding Act on Mutual Relations, Cooperation andSecurity between NATO and the Russian Federation was signed by theSecretary-General of NATO and heads of state and government of NATOand the Russian President in Paris.5

These attempts by the EU and NATO to allay Russian anxiety have notprevented many Russians from feeling isolated and marginalized asenlargement gets under way. They cannot disguise the fact that a widerEurope is being created from which Russia is excluded. This chapterexamines the effects of exclusion on Russian perceptions of Europe. It isbased on the published views of the foreign policy community, on twofocus groups conducted in September 1999, on interviews conducted inMoscow in September and in Kazan’ in December 1999, and on the resultsof our first nationwide survey commissioned in January 2000.6 All theevidence indicates that Russians are deeply affected by exclusion fromEuropean expansion, but that they are more worried about NATOexpansion than about the enlargement of the EU.

RUSSIA AND THE DUAL EXPANSION OF EUROPE 57

While there are distinctions between the foreign policy views of liberalWesternizers’, ‘pragmatic nationalists’ and ‘fundamentalist nationalists’ inRussia, there are few genuine liberal Westernizers left and none of themremain in policy-making positions.7 In general, liberal Westernizers favoura Western type of democratic market society for Russia and want goodrelations with Western countries. Pragmatic nationalists also endorsedemocracy and want good relations with the West, but they put Russiannational interests first. They tend to believe that a market economy has tobe adapted to specific Russian conditions. Fundamentalist nationalists, onthe other hand, believe that Russia can forge its own, specific path ofdevelopment. They see the West as hostile and are nostalgic for the Soviet(or even the Russian imperial) past.8

RUSSIA AND NATO

Liberal Westernizers dominated Russian foreign policy immediately afterthe disintegration of the USSR; it was the issue of NATO expansion, aboveall, that undermined their influence. Both pragmatic and fundamentalistnationalists blamed them for making too many concessions to the West,thus encouraging Western politicians to take further advantage of Russia.One businessman we interviewed, for example, maintained that AndreiKozyrev, the most prominent liberal Westernizer and Russia’s first ForeignMinister, had defended Western, not Russian, interests. Another of ourinterviewees accused Kozyrev of having made ‘unforgivable mistakes’ asForeign Minister. When Russia’s membership of the Partnership for Peacewas debated, liberal Westernizers favoured signing up, while pragmaticnationalists were hesitant, and fundamentalist nationalists wereunambiguously opposed. On the subject of NATO expansion, however,they were united, even if they had different reasons for objecting.9

Whatever his private views, Kozyrev, like Russian officials and politiciansof all persuasions, used every available public opportunity to expressRussia’s opposition whenever the possibility of NATO enlargement wasmooted. After a faux pas in Warsaw when he told President Walesa thatRussia did not mind if Poland joined NATO, President Yeltsin alsoconsistently made it clear that he disapproved of NATO expansion.Moreover, the Russian public believed that NATO expansion would harmRussia: in an October 1996 poll, 32 per cent thought that expansion wouldbe bad for Russia; in March/April 1997, of the 22 per cent of respondentswho were reasonably well informed about NATO, 62 per cent thoughtthat expansion of the Alliance would harm Russia.10

The NATO-Russia Founding Act was intended to reassure Russia thatcooperation between Russia and the Alliance would continue even ifenlargement proceeded. But the ground for future disagreement was laidwhen it became clear that whereas President Yeltsin interpreted the Act to


mean that NATO would have to consult Russia in the Permanent JointCouncil, NATO leaders insisted, as President Clinton expressed it, thatRussia would have ‘a voice in but not a veto over NATO’s business’.11

Moreover, while many people in the West seemed to think that by signingthe Act, the Russian government had signalled its tacit acceptance ofNATO expansion, this did not at all correspond to the Russianinterpretation. Public criticism of expansion did not abate. The publicresponse to expansion was extremely negative (66 per cent in a July 1999poll believed that it represented a direct threat to Russia). Russian analysts,on the other hand, considered expansion a ‘strategic error’, but theyunderstood that Russia could not prevent it from occurring. At thebeginning of 1999, it looked briefly as if Russians had accepted theinevitable, although the new Foreign Policy Concept adopted in June 2000reiterated that ‘Russia retains its negative attitude towards the expansionof NATO’.12

The formal accession of Poland, Hungary and the Czech Republic toNATO in March 1999, followed by the adoption of a new strategic conceptat the 50th anniversary NATO summit in Washington and theannouncement that the door to NATO membership remains open, causedfurther consternation.13 Kosovo was the final straw. NATO’s use ofmilitary force was not discussed by the UN Security Council and nor didNATO consult the Russian government in the Russia—NATO JointCouncil. To Russians this seemed to forebode that NATO was intent ondenying Russia a voice on important European security issues.

The attack on Serbia confirmed the prejudices of those who heldfundamentalist nationalist views, and it undermined more moderate views.NATO had, in Russian eyes, ceased to be a defence alliance. Moreover, itsnew strategic doctrine implied that it might, in future, intervene in theconflicts on the periphery of Russia. During interviews with the foreignpolicy elite in September, our interlocutors across the political spectrumcondemned the air strikes against Serbia, disapproved of NATOexpansion, and argued that the new strategic doctrine undermined Russiansecurity. One fundamentalist nationalist in Moscow, for example, claimedthat the attack on Serbia revealed NATO in its true colours; anotherargued that the conflict in Yugoslavia was simply a testing ground forfurther attacks that NATO intended to undertake. Pragmatic nationalistspointed out that Kosovo had persuaded the army and the general publicthat NATO’s new strategy represented a direct threat to Russia. Angryprotests about NATO’s action were still being voiced in December 1999. InKazan’, for example, an interviewee expressed the view that ‘the US nowopenly says it wants to rule the world’; he believed that the USA was usingNATO as an instrument to reach that goal. In separate interviews inMoscow and Ekaterinburg in December, which had nothing to do with


foreign policy, interlocutors invariably criticized NATO policy in theBalkans.14

Focus group discussions confirmed that Kosovo had made a deep andnegative impression on people at all levels of society. They also revealedthat NATO and the USA were widely seen as synonymous. Oddly, evenamong the elite, far less blame for the attack on Serbia was attached toEuropean NATO members than to the USA. NATO is ‘being used by the USto weaken western Europe’, said a history lecturer in Kazan’, and ‘inessence, the EU was subservient to NATO and the Americans’ in theKosovo conflict.

Russians are deeply concerned that NATO might expand further,particularly to include the Baltic states or Ukraine. Again, this concern isprevalent at all levels of society. In our January 2000 survey, 37 per cent ofrespondents thought that Baltic membership of NATO would present athreat (a large threat or some threat) to Russia, while only 17 per cent sawit as no threat, and 35 per cent did not know. Curiously, however, a largemajority (75 per cent) thought it unlikely that Russia would be attacked inthe next five years, and only 24 per cent thought an attack likely.Nevertheless, 60 per cent of those polled thought that Russia shouldincrease its spending on defence—but they were responding as much to thewar in Chechnya (which they strongly supported—71 per cent supportedthe campaign entirely or in part, while 9 per cent opposed it) as to theexpansion of NATO. When it came to how Russia should respond toNATO expansion, however, realism prevailed. Among the foreign policyelite, fundamentalist nationalists and a few pragmatic nationalists predicteda strong Russian response, suggesting variously that military spendingwould rise, there would be a new arms race, the ‘nuclear factor’ would be‘reconsidered’, and new allies would be found. For the most part, however,interviewees understood that economic weakness limited Russia’s ability torespond. One academic of liberal Westernizer persuasion summed it up asfollows: ‘Russia’s political leaders will have to take measures, but I can’tsee what they can do. They have illusions, their rhetoric is strong, but thereare no measures they could take. They may say that military spending willrise, but there is nowhere from which to take the money for militaryspending.’

RUSSIA AND THE EUROPEAN UNION

Russian views about the EU are generally positive and they contraststrongly with the widespread criticism levelled at NATO. EU enlargementseemed, at first, to be perceived as an acceptable alternative to NATOexpansion, but even after NATO had expanded and the EU could nolonger be seen as an alternative, extension of EU membership to formersocialist states was still regarded favourably. As Dmitri Trenin points out,


there is a tendency in Russia ‘to contrast “the good West of Europe/EU”with the “bad West of America/NATO”’.15

On the other hand, very few people in Russia are informed about theEU. International issues in general have a low profile in the media,compared with the attention given to Russia’s turbulent domestic affairs.Relations with the EU are primarily economic and technical, not thedramatic stuff of news headlines, and European integration has norelevance to people’s daily lives; consequently, the EU gets little mediacoverage.16 This explains why public awareness is low, although given theamount of EU assistance which Russia receives, the European Commissionmight be disconcerted to discover how little awareness there is of what theEU does for Russia.17 Sixty-nine per cent of respondents in our survey at theend of January 2000 did not know where the headquarters of the EU arelocated (answering either ‘don’t know’ or naming the wrong city). Only 20per cent assessed the actions and aims of the EU as very or fairly positiveand, although only 11 per cent assessed them as very or fairly negative, 69per cent responded either that they did not know anything about the EU’sactions and aims or that they did not know what they thought of them. Onthe other hand, nearly 48 per cent of respondents thought that Russiawould benefit if it joined the EU, only 12 per cent thought that it wouldnot benefit, while 40 per cent thought it would make no difference.

Lack of knowledge about the EU among the general public may beunderstandable; after all, European publics themselves are poorly informedabout it, and there is no reason why publics in non-member states should beany better informed. It is less comprehensible, however, why somemembers of the Russian foreign policy community who, given theirprofessional positions, ought to be better informed, seem to lack even namerecognition of the EU. On the whole, people who identify with pragmaticnationalist views are better acquainted with the organization thanfundamentalist nationalists, one of whom told us that ‘if a European Unionis formed, then Russia must be part of it’. Among those who knowsomething about the organization, there is no apprehension about itsenlargement, even if the Baltic countries join, as long as the EU does notattempt to ‘force Russia into a corner’, ‘exclude it‘or ‘turn it into a pariah’.Some thought that enlargement would serve to draw Russia closer to theEU, and they believed that fulfilling EU demands and conditions wouldbenefit the Russian economy. Thus, EU enlargement had the support of thegeneral director of a successful factory that manufactures medicalinstruments who had adopted EU quality standards and hoped to exporteven more goods. Other interviewees were rather more wary, warning of apossible return to a divided Europe. Very few were clear, however, aboutthe potential hazards of an expanding market which excludes Russia. Oneof the few who understood the problem was a leading member of theTatarstan parliament who feared that Russia might become isolated very


quickly. He thought that ‘after EU enlargement in the next five years, itwill become more difficult for Russia to export to Poland and the CzechRepublic, because of the high EU standard in these countries. For Russia thiswill mean a loss of several billions of dollars per year.’

Of course, officials in the relevant ministries who deal with EUexpansion are well aware that EU enlargement may have negativeeconomic consequences for Russia. The anti-dumping measures regularlyinitiated against Russian exports on the grounds that Russia is a state-trading country (although Russia’s PCA refers to it as an economy intransition) have long been a source of friction. They know that problems willarise as the accession countries adopt the EU’s acquis communautaire. Asthe accession countries and the pre-ins gradually reorientate their tradetowards the EU, their trade relations with Russia will be adversely affected.At the same time, Russia’s dependence on the EU, which currently receives40 per cent of Russia’s exports and provides 38 per cent of its imports, willgrow. Although one journalist suggested to us that EU barriers wouldbenefit Russia, since it would enable the government to re-establish thekind of protectionist policies that would revive Russia’s real economy, thiswas not a view shared by these officials.

Of all the potential negative consequences of EU enlargement, the issuethat causes most concern is movement across borders. There is growingconcern among officials and the business community that when the centraland east European countries join the Schengen agreement, Russian citizenswill require visas to travel. Moreover, it is not only the accession countriesthat will introduce stricter visa regimes. Under pressure from the EU, thepre-ins will also sign up. This is a particularly acute problem forKaliningrad, which will in due course become a Russian enclave within theEU.18

Russia’s Medium-term Strategy (2000–2010) which was presented to theEuropean Council in October 1999, reflects these concerns. Section 5 refersto the ‘ambivalent impact’ of enlargement on Russian interests and sets as apriority the task of ‘achieving the best advantages’ and ‘preventing,eliminating or setting off possible adverse consequences’ of enlargement. Itcalls for consultations to secure Russia’s interests as the acquis is adoptedin the CEE countries, and draws particular attention to Kaliningrad’sproblems.19 Russian government officials are only now beginning to realizehow complex the task is of negotiating and consulting with both the EUand the accession states and, particularly, of ensuring that there issufficient coordination across relevant ministries.

At first the decision taken at the Cologne European Council to expandthe EU’s Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) made littleimpression in Russia.20 Even when asked directly in September about whatthe implications would be for Russia, the foreign policy elite revealed littleawareness of the EU’s intention to develop a military capacity. No alarm was


expressed. Foreign Ministry officials directly concerned with relations withthe EU were better informed, but in September 1999 they seemedpreoccupied by the consequences of exclusion for Russia’s economicsecurity, and relatively unconcerned about more traditional forms ofsecurity, particularly in relation to the EU. Of course, this may simplyreflect the problem of compartmentalization which is characteristic of mostbureaucracies but which afflicts Russia particularly severely. In otherwords, they may have been unaware of the EU’s plans because theirbusiness was the economy, while military security was dealt with in otherdepartments, and there was effectively no communication betweendepartments. But the people in defence-related fields whom we interviewedalso knew very little about EU intentions with regard to security anddefence.

The authors of Russia’s Medium-term Strategy were clearly wellinformed on the subject, however, and they took a positive view of theprospect of the CFSP’s acquiring a defence aspect. The preamble to theStrategy maintains that a ‘strategic partnership’ between Russia and the EUcan achieve a pan-European system of collective security based on ‘equalitywithout dividing lines’. This system will not isolate the USA and NATO,but nor will it permit them to dominate the continent. The Medium-termStrategy also calls, in section 1.5.2, for practical cooperation with the WestEuropean Union (WEU) in the area of security ‘which couldcounterbalance…the NATO-ism in Europe’.21 In other words, a militaryaspect to the CFSP was perceived to offer an alternative European securitystructure, which would diminish NATO’s importance in Europe.

In December 1999, at the Helsinki European Council, the EU’s plannedmilitary capacity acquired the name of the Common European Security andDefence Policy (CESDP). It was still not perceived in Russia as representinga threat. On the contrary, the National Security Blueprint, which wasdrafted and discussed in 1999 and adopted in January 2000, includes anextensive list of ‘fundamental threats [to Russian security] in theinternational sphere’. It does not mention the EU at all. Neither doesRussia’s new Military Doctrine which was adopted in April 2000.22

Russia’s Medium-term Strategy indicates a tendency among officials tobelieve that the CESDP will provide a means by which Russia cancooperate with the EU in security matters and which, at the same time, itcan use to drive a wedge between the European members of NATO and theUSA. More sophisticated Russian analysts pointed out, however, thatMinistry of Foreign Affairs officials were in danger of reverting to the kindof zero-sum thinking that was characteristic of the Soviet Union. Inparticular, they were deceiving themselves in thinking that the Westernsystem was a kind of balance in which ‘increasing the “European”’ weightwould automatically weaken the American side of the balance’. In fact,


increasing the European weight was possible only because it would notundermine the transatlantic link.23

The appointment of the former NATO Secretary-General Javier Solana asthe EU’s High Representative for the Common Foreign and Security Policysupported this warning. It was highly unlikely that the person who haddesigned and implemented NATO expansion would take responsibility foran EU policy that was directed towards diminishing or underminingNATO’s influence in Europe. Moreover, EU officials emphasized that theCESDP was intended as an addition, not an alternative, to NATO. EUHigh Commissioner for External Affairs Chris Patten, for example, insisted—calling himself both a committed European and a committed Atlanticist—that the EU was seeking to strengthen the transatlantic relationship. Solanaalso argued, ‘as a former Secretary-General’ of NATO, that the CESDPwould not replace the Alliance. On the contrary, he insisted, ‘an effectiveCFSP will be to the advantage of NATO…[but] NATO will remain thefoundation for the collective defence of its members’. European leadershave made clear, he added, that the objective of the Union is to develop thecapacity to conduct EU-led military operations in response to internationalcrises, but only where NATO as a whole is not engaged’.24

Once it became clear that the CESDP was intended to supplementNATO, Russian policy makers became less sure about the advantages ofthe EU’s developing a military potential. They may also have been taken bysurprise at the rapidity with which developments in the security fieldadvanced. Their own experience within the CIS suggested that agreementsand treaties were difficult to make in multilateral bodies, and even moredifficult to implement. Moreover, the long delay between signature andratification of the Russia—EU PCA, and the lengthy negotiations on whichthe accession countries were engaged, may have led them to believe thatprogress on CESDP would be slow and difficult. In any case, CESDP as anaddition, not an alternative, to NATO seemed to signal the possibility ofeven further isolation for Russia. Moreover, it might require a reassessmentof their previous positive response to EU membership for former Sovietstates. The Foreign Policy Concept published in June 2000 statesenigmatically that ‘the EU’s emerging military-political dimension shouldbecome an object of particular attention’. The Military Doctrine lists, asone of Russia’s main external threats, ‘the expansion of military blocs andalliances to the detriment of the Russian Federation’s military security’.25

The CESDP gives the EU many of the attributes of a military alliance and,seen as an augmentation of NATO, it may be perceived as detrimental toRussia’s military security when it includes new EU members such asEstonia.

At the time of writing, some Russian analysts still believe that the CESDPoffers a means by which Russia can continue cooperating with the Westdespite the tension between it and NATO. Other analysts argue that the


Russia—EU security dialogue cannot act as a substitute for the Russia—NATO relationship. The latter argue that Russia’s first priority ought to bere-engaging with NATO, for only when it has re-engaged will it be able toestablish a constructive relationship with the CESDP.26

CONCLUSION

Russian policy makers frequently contrast the multipolar internationalsystem, which became a possibility after the Cold War and which Russiasupports, to the unipolar world which they believe that the USA nowwishes to construct and dominate. Unipolarity has acquired suchsignificance as the symbol of a world from which Russia’s voice is excludedthat the new Military Doctrine defines ‘attempts to ignore (infringe) theRussian Federation’s interests in resolving international security problems,and to oppose its strengthening as one influential centre in a multipolarworld’ as one of the main threats to Russian security.27

NATO is perceived as an instrument of US foreign policy, and one of thechief means by which the US intends to achieve unipolarity. The expansionof the Alliance enhanced the perception, and the attack on Serbiaconfirmed it. Again, the Military Doctrine indicates how seriously theseevents affected Russian perceptions. The first two factors listed asdestabilizing Russia’s military-political environment are ‘attempts toweaken (ignore) the existing mechanism for safeguarding internationalsecurity (primarily, the United Nations and the Organization for Securityand Cooperation in Europe)’ and ‘the use of coercive military actions as ameans of ‘humanitarian intervention’ without the sanction of the UNSecurity Council’.28

The CESDP seemed, at first, to offer an alternative security systemfor Europe, one more acceptable to Russia. When it became apparent thatCESDP is intended to complement NATO, Russia responded less positivelyto it. Paradoxically, however, one reason why EU officials, particularlyChris Patten and Javier Solana, found it necessary to insist that CESDPwould enhance and not undermine NATO was the fact that Russia saw itas a wedge which might be used to divide the European members of NATOfrom the USA.

Western analysts and policy makers sometimes react as if Russia’s hopesto use CESDP as a wedge were unnatural rather than simply unwelcome.They interpret it as a return to the Soviet past, or at least a sign of thepotential danger that Russia might represent to European security. In fact,when faced by a perceived hostile and superior force, the rational responseis to try to divide it. In other words, it would be unnatural if Russian policymakers did not try to divide what they perceive as a dangerous opposition.Moreover, it was not only the Soviet Union that used this tactic in the past.


It was used just as frequently by the West in its relationship with the Sovietbloc.

The important point, however, is that wedge-driving is a rationalresponse to a perceived hostile alliance. The way to prevent it, therefore, isto alleviate the perception of hostility that makes it a rational response.The EU’s assurances that the CESDP will complement NATO exacerbateRussia’s perception of exclusion from an enlarging hostile alliance ratherthan alleviate it. In other words, if the EU wishes to prevent wedge-drivingon the part of Russia, it should put more effort into improving therelationship between NATO and Russia. One way in which it might dothis is to use its good offices to reactivate the Russia—NATO JointCouncil. It should also ensure that the determination expressed in section 3of the EU’s Common Strategy on Russia, to ‘develop cooperation withRussia in the new European Security Architecture’,29 is translated intopolicy.

EU assurances that the CESDP will complement NATO are not onlyintended to deter Russia from attempting to divide European NATOmembers from the USA, but also directed towards the USA. While the USAlikes the fact that the CESDP might make Europe shoulder a fairer share ofthe Western defence burden, the idea that it could undermine NATO’spredominant role in European security is far from welcome. In fact, theUSA and the Russian Federation have diametrically opposite reactions tothe CESDP. The more the CESDP seems an alternative to NATO, the lesswelcome it is to the USA, and the more attractive it is to Russia—and viceversa. Since Europe itself is ambivalent—it wants to pull its internationalweight by having an effective CFSP, but fears that the USA might revert toa policy of isolationism and withdraw from NATO and Europe—the onlyway out of the general dilemma is to ensure that the relationship betweenNATO and Russia improves.

President Putin has declared that there is nothing to prevent cooperationbetween Russia and NATO ‘if [Russia] is treated as an equal partner’.30

Treating Russia as an equal need not imply giving it a veto over Alliancepolicy, but it clearly requires doing more to ensure that Russia’s voice isheard within NATO than members have been prepared to do up to now.But both sides have to cooperate if the NATO-Russian relationship is toimprove. President Putin and his government also have a responsibility tofoster cooperation. They need, at least, to make a greater effort tounderstand the nature of the dilemma and the role they play in producingit. They might also recall the insights of Mikhail Gorbachev’s ‘newpolitical thinking’, in particular, in relation to the effect Soviet rhetoric hadon producing the ‘enemy images’ that underpinned the Cold War.31

Applying the precepts of Soviet ‘new political thinking’ to some of themore hard-line public statements about international relations (forexample, those made by people such as Colonel-General Leonid Ivashov,


head of the International Relations Department of the Russian Ministry ofDefence)32 might improve the opportunities for cooperation.

EU, NATO and Russian policy makers, therefore, all have similarresponsibilities with regard to cooperation. There can be no Europeansecurity without Russia, nor is European security feasible without the USA.And since the US security role in Europe is enacted via NATO, all threesets of policy makers must concentrate on improving the cooperationbetween NATO and Russia.

NOTES

1. This chapter is based on research conducted by Stephen White and JohnLöwenhardt in Russia in September (Moscow), and December (Kazan’)1999. The research project, entitled The Outsiders: Russia, Ukraine, Belarus,Moldova and the New Europe’ (Project Grant L213252007), is part of theEconomic and Social Science Research Council ‘One Europe or Several?’programme. An earlier version of parts of this chapter appeared as PolicyPaper 02/00 in the Policy Papers series of that

2. A ‘differentiated’ approach will be taken towards the pre-ins, which will takeprogramme. account of each candidate’s progress towards meeting thecriteria for membership. See Regular Report from the Commission onProgress towards Accession, 13 October 1999, IP/99/751, atwww.europa.eu.int/comm/enlargement/report_10_99/intro/ index.htm(accessed 29 April 2000).

3. In conversation with three Russian journalists, Putin maintained that Russiawould not want to be a member of NATO in its present form. However, ifNATO were transformed into a primarily political organization, membershipwould be worth discussing. Ot pervogo litsa: Rasgovory s VladimiromPutinym (Moscow, 2000), p. 159.

4. For Russia’s PCA agreement, see Official Journal of the EuropeanCommunities (hereafter OJ) L 327, 28 November 1997. The EU’s CommonStrategy on Russia is published in OJ L 15, 4 June 1999. For Russia’sMedium-term Strategy, see the Finnish Presidency, ‘Unofficial Translation bythe Russian MFA of the “Medium-term Strategy for Development ofRelations between the Russian Federation and the European Union (2000–2010)” Presented by the Russian Side at the EU-Russia summit in Helsinki on22 October 1999’ (hereafter ‘Medium-term Strategy’). Available atwww.presidency.finland.fi/frame.asp (accessed 29 April 2000).

5. The text of the Founding Act can be found at NATO Handbook, 1998edition. NATO On-line Library, www.nato.int/docu/handbook/1998/v070.htm (accessed 29 April 2000).

6. We interviewed foreign policy elites; in other words, senior party officials,members of the Duma and Federal Council foreign policy committees;prominent businessmen, senior officials in key ministries. The participants ofthe focus groups, on the other hand, were ordinary people, of mixed gender,age and education. The full project will examine the effect of exclusion on


Ukraine, Belarus and Moldova as well as on Russia. Apart from approximately140 elite interviews in the four countries, data will be obtained fromnationwide opinion surveys and 16 focus groups (including four amongmilitary personnel).

7. These terms are used in Neil Malcolm, Alex Pravda, Roy Allison and MargotLight, Internal Factors in Russian Foreign Policy (Oxford, 1996) tocategorize views about Russian foreign policy. They are used for convenienceand are not intended as strict categories, since there are overlaps betweenthem and some individuals change their views over time.

8. A detailed blueprint of fundamentalist nationalist views is offered, forexample, in Aleksei Podberezkin, Russkii put’, 4th edn (Moscow, 1999).Podberezkin was a candidate in the March 2000 presidential elections; hegained 0.13 per cent of the vote, coming tenth of the eleven candidates.

9. For the liberal westernizer arguments about PfP, see the article byA.Konovalov and S.Oznobishchev in Segodnya, 26 March 1994. AlekseiPushkov’s interview with Vladimir Lukin in Moskovskie novosti, no. 16,1994, gives the pragmatic nationalist doubts. See also Alexander Sergounin,Post-Communist Security Thinking in Russia: Changing Paradigms,Copenhagen Peace Research Institute Working Papers, no. 4, 1997, p. 52.

10. Opinion Analysis, Office of Research and Media Reaction, USIA,Washington, DC, 24 January 1997, M-12-97 and 27 May 1997, M-87-97.

11. President Yeltsin’s remarks are quoted in Krasnaia zvezda, 28 May 1997;President Clinton’s Rose Garden speech appears in NATO, The US Mission,President Clinton Hails NATO-Russia Agreement. Available atwww.nato.int/usa/president/s9705l4c. htm (accessed 1 November 1999).

12. Boris Kazantsev, ‘Posledstviia rasshireniia NATO’, Mezhdunarodnaia zhizn’,nos. 11–12, 1997, p. 20. See also I.Maksimychev, ‘K kakim beregam plyvetEvropa’, Mezhdunarodnaia zhizn’, no. 10, 1997, pp. 29–36; P.Ivanov andB.Khalosha, ‘Rossiia-NATO: chto dal’she’, Mirovaia ekonomika imezhdunarodnye otnosheniia, no. 6, 1999, pp. 5–15; The Foreign PolicyConcept of the Russian Federation’, at www.gov.ru/main/ministry/isp-vlast47.html (accessed 23 August 2000).

13. The new strategic concept and the Membership Action Plan are published inThe Reader’s Guide to the NATO Summit in Washington, 23–25 April 1999(Brussels, 1999).

14. These interviews were part of a project conducted by the European Institutefor the Media that monitored the media coverage of the Russianparliamentary elections. The project was funded by the EuropeanCommission through the Initiative for Democracy and Human Rights.

15. Dmitri Trenin, ‘Russia—EU Partnership: Grand Vision and Practical Steps’,in Russia on Russia, Moscow School of Political Studies, February 2000.

16. Igor Leshoukov, Beyond Satisfaction: Russia’s Perspectives on EuropeanIntegration, ZEI Discussion Paper C 26, 1998, Centre for EuropeanIntegration Studies, Rheinische Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universitat, Bonn. We aregrateful to David Gowan for drawing our attention to this paper.

17. From 1990 to 1995, the EU was the largest donor to the newly independentstates (NIS). Russia was the largest NIS recipient, receiving 16.4 per cent ofOfficial Development Assistance and 43.4 per cent of Technical Assistance.


See European Commission, ‘EU cooperation with the New IndependentStates and Mongolia’, at www.europa.eu.int/comm/dg1a/nis/intro/index.htm(accessed 30 April 2000). Total TACIS (Technical Assistance to the CIS)funding to Russia in 1991–1996 was Ecu 927.89 million. The indicativebudget allocation for TACIS assistance to Russia for 1996–1999 was Ecu 0.6billion. See European Commission, ‘TACIS Country Close-up: Russia’, atwww.europa.eu.int/comm/dg1a/tacis/country_closeup/russia/cc_russ_indic.htm (accessed 30 April 2000).

18. V.Pozdniakov and S.Ganzha, ‘Novye strany na poroge Evropeiskogo soiuza’,Mezhdunarodnaia zhizn’, no. 3, 1999, pp. 37–44. On the EU’s Kaliningraddilemma, see Lyndelle D.Fairlie, Will the EU use Northern Dimension toSolve Its Kaliningrad Dilemma?, Copenhagen Peace Research InstituteWorking Papers, no. 21, 1999.

19. See ‘Medium-term Strategy’.20. We are extremely grateful to David Gowan for sharing both his sources on,

and his understanding of, Russian perceptions of an expanded CFSP with us.21. ‘Medium-term Strategy’.22. ‘Kontseptsiia natsional’noi bezopasnosti’, Sobranie zakonodatel’stva

Rossiiskoi Federatsii, no. 2, 2000, pp. 691–704; ‘Voennaia doktrinaRossiiskoi Federatsii’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 22 April 2000.

23. Dmitrii Danilov, ‘Potentsial’nyi soiuznik Moskvy’, Nezavisimoe voennoeobozrenie, no. 47, 3–9 December 1999.

24. The Rt Hon. Chris Patten, speech/99/174 to the WEU Council of MinistersLuxembourg, 23 November 1999; Javier Solana, The Development of aCommon Foreign and Security Policy and the Role of the HighRepresentative’, Danish Institute of International Affairs, Copenhagen, 11February 2000; and see ‘Presidency Reports to the Helsinki EuropeanCouncil’, Bulletin EU, 12/1999.

25. The Foreign Policy Concept’; ‘Voennaia doktrina Rossiiskoi Federatsii’.26. See Danilov, ‘Potentsial’nyi soiuznik Moskvy’, for the first views, and Trenin,

‘Russian-EU Partnership’, for the second.27. ‘Voennaia doktrina Rossiiskoi Federatsii’.28. Ibid.29. OJ L 15, 24 June 1999.30. Ot pervogo litsa, p. 159.31. See, for example, V.Petrovskii, ‘Doverie i vyzhivanie chelovechestva’,

Mirovaia ekonomika i mezhdunarodnye otnosheniia, no. 11, 1987, pp. 15–26, and Shevardnadze’s speech at a conference of diplomats in VestnikMinisterstva inostrannykh del SSSR, no. 15, 15 August 1988, pp. 27–46.

32. In a speech to the Duma on 24 April 2000, Colonel-General Ivashov accusedthe USA of being behind the war in Chechnya and manoeuvring to thwartRussian military operations in Chechnya. Reported by BBC MonitoringInternational Reports from Interfax news agency, atwww.globalarchive.ft.com/search-components/index.jsp (accessed 30 April2000).


7Russia’s Place in European Defence

ALYSON J.K.BAILES1

The subject of this analysis may seem rather specialized, but I will try todevelop it in a way which leads back to some of the larger issues of Russiansecurity in Europe and which, ideally, might also help to illuminate themfrom a new perspective. My personal qualifications for addressing theseissues are slight, especially as I am not in any sense a Russia expert. Butthere is one thing I can claim which is unusual if not unique: namely that Ihave worked in a western integrated institution, West European Union(WEU), which has never experienced the slightest problem with Russia, orvice versa.2 The only frustrations in Russia—WEU relations have arisenwhen one or both sides were not able to exploit the positive potential ofthe relationship as fully as they might have hoped. And this despite the factthat WEU’s activity has been focused on the linkage between two fields,defence and European integration, which have both in themselves been thesource of frequent contradictions in relations between Russia and theWest. Should we conclude that the relative weakness of WEU as anorganization, notably the fact that it has never carried out any significantmilitary operations, has simply left nothing to argue with Russia about?Or, as I would prefer to imagine, is there something about the concept ofEuropean defence, the actual combining of the notions of defence and ofEuropean identity, that opens the way for a more positive Russian responseand a more mutually profitable solution?

It would be important to know the right answer because Europeandefence is about to become big business, taking a greater step forward thanat any time since 1945. For 50 years it has remained an area of confusionand frustration because the Europeans themselves could not agree on whatthe concept really meant, whether it should be pursued inside or outsideNATO, which Europeans should be allowed to take part in it, and so on.For ten years, from 1991 to 2001, WEU tried in its modest way toovercome, or at least reduce these contradictions. It has concentrated onpreparing structures, plans and capabilities for Europeanled crisismanagement missions (‘non-Article V cases’ in NATO language) wherethere is no immediate clash of competence either with NATO’s collectivedefence work or with the EU’s political and economic responsibilities. It

has also tried to bring in the very widest range of interested countries sothat no one has to feel excluded: thus WEU regularly works with a group of28 west and central European democracies and has special relationshipsnot just with Russia but also with Ukraine, Canada, Malta, Cyprus, Israeland six other non-EU Mediterranean states.3 But despite this good politicaland conceptual approach, WEU has not been allowed to lead any militaryoperations; and the overall lack of success in getting Europeans tomodernize their military capacities was exposed all too painfully in Kosovoin 1998 to 2000.

As a short-term reaction to the Kosovo crisis but also, perhaps, becauseof a longer-term evolution that has now reached critical mass, the 15countries of the EU decided in 1999 on a bold institutional change. The EUitself is going to become a defence organization, for the first time in itshistory, by acquiring everything it needs in order to carry out crisismanagement operations directly under its own command.4 At the time ofwriting, new EU committees created for this purpose have already beenmeeting for five weeks on a trial basis within the so-called second pillar;5

the first elements of an EU Military Staff have arrived in Brussels; and theEU’s Defence Ministers have agreed on a process for stimulating each otherto make better military contributions so that in a couple of years’ time theEU should be able to put 60,000 well-trained and harmonized RapidReaction Forces (RRF) on the ground in as little as eight weeks.6 This isremarkable progress by the normal standards of the EU, but to place it inthe correct perspective, it is worth underlining some important limitations.First, the members of the EU are not all going to exchange defenceguarantees; they are only going to work together for non-Article V tasks inthe service of the wider international community, and so the Union is notgoing to turn into anything like an alliance. Secondly, this is not going tobe an area for fully standardized or juridically binding cooperation sinceevery member of the EU will have a free choice whether to give militaryforces or not for any particular operation. Thirdly, for this same reasonand also because of the unpredictability of crisis management tasks, theEuropean forces to be used will not take the form of a standing army but willbe put together to meet the specific needs of each operation, drawing onexisting national and multinational formations which already wear anumber of other ‘hats’.

On the other hand, there are several respects in which the newEU initiative has a rather wide-ranging and even open-ended character.First, the spectrum of tasks that the EU may wish to carry out is the samethat WEU has focused on since 1992 (the so-called Petersberg tasks). Theseare quite diverse, ranging from evacuation of European citizens in dangerthrough many kinds of humanitarian operations, so-called traditionalpeacekeeping and pre-emptive deployments, even up to the possibility of‘peace making’ where the task is suitable for European forces and the

RUSSIA’S PLACE IN EUROPEAN DEFENCE 71

necessary legal base available.7 The EU has not so far made clear whetherit intends to put any geographical limit to the possible scope of suchmissions, saying only that it will act in response to ‘international crises’ andin accordance with the principles of the UN Charter.

Secondly, the EU will have a much wider choice than NATO ofinstruments for intervention inasmuch as it could use paramilitary or non-military elements like police, border controllers, aid workers or medicalspecialists for a part or even the whole of a specific European-led operation.8

At the same time, in any given crisis prevention or crisis managementsituation the EU is almost certain to be involved also as a diplomatic,political, economic and financial player. Consequently, it can directlyharmonize its military action with these others and make sure the militaryelement is always the servant of a broader European policy, not its master.

Thirdly, the EU has already made clear that it intends to find ways ofinvolving not just its own 15 members, but all the other Europeans whohave been part of the WEU family, in its new defence work. The sixnations who are in NATO but not the EU and the others who are applyingto join both organizations will be offered the chance to help in threedifferent ways: in the EU’s general preparations and planning for militarytasks; in the execution of individual missions where they may be able tocontribute forces; and in the assembling of the rapid reaction capabilitiesneeded to meet the EU Headline Goal.9

What does all this mean for Russia? In what follows I will try to tacklethis question from three different perspectives moving from the narrowestto the broadest and from the short to the longer term, as follows. (1) Whatwill be Russia’s direct and practical involvement in the EU’s new defenceactivities? (2) What effects of importance for Russia could this EU initiativehave on the present-day landscape of European and transatlantic security?(3) What longer-term perspectives could this open up for the linkagebetween the European integration process and Russia’s own destiny?

RUSSIA’S INVOLVEMENT IN THE EU’S NEWDEFENCE ACTIVITIES

Russia’s relationship with WEU in recent years has had a double focus:policy dialogue and practical cooperation. The former has involved high-level visits by Russian officials and debates with the 28 nations of the WEUCouncil, including regular sessions with the ambassadors who head theRussian Mission in Brussels. The WEU’s Institute of Security Studies hasalso carried out major projects with the help of Russian experts, resultingin the publication of a detailed study on Russia—WEU relations.10 Practicalcooperation is closely geared to the possibility of WEU operations beingcarried out with Russia’s support and/or participation. It has included thesupply of Russian imagery to the WEU Satellite Centre,11 Russian


observation of a number of WEU crisis management exercises including theone held jointly with NATO in February 2000,12 and negotiations for aWEU—Russia framework agreement on the provision of long-haul airlift.Russia has also made known its interest in dialogue with WEU’s sisterorganization WEAG (Western European Armaments Group), whichaddresses the issues of European armaments policy.13

If Russia wishes to maintain the equivalent types of dialogue and contactwith the EU after the Union takes over WEU’s crisis managementresponsibilities, the door on the European side would seem to be alreadyopen. The EU adopted in June 1999 a Common Strategy on Russia whichincluded as one of its highest aims the joint effort for European stabilityand for global and European security.14 The detailed chapter of theStrategy on this subject mentions not only the possibility of dialogue,coordination of policies on the OSCE (Organization for Security andCooperation in Europe) and its activities, and joint policy initiatives forconflict prevention, arms control and disarmament, but specifically statesthat the EU will consider inviting Russia to take part when it carries out acrisis-management operation using WEU as its agent. It is logical tosuppose that the same will be true when the EU starts carrying out suchoperations directly, and that the EU will then be just as interested as WEUhas been in exploring the various practical modes of Russian support.

It is hard, then, to imagine any problems arising in this specific short-term context, assuming of course that Russia is content to accept the EU asthe inheritor of WEU for this purpose. It should merely be noted that theexact timing of the handover is not yet certain: the EU expected to bepolitically ready to carry out the main part of the transition at the end of2000, but did not exclude that the need for treaty amendment and/orcomplications of a purely practical nature might delay certain aspects ofthe transfer.15 The EU will probably prefer to take things in a logicalsequence, namely to define first its internal decision-making structures andonly then to define the precise modalities of cooperation for strategicdialogue partners such as Russia. So, to sum up, there is ground forconfidence but perhaps a little need for patience on this front.

EFFECT OF THE EU DEFENCE INITIATIVE ONRUSSIA

My second question was about the impact of the European defenceinitiative on the larger security environment, and here it would bepremature to give a clear and simple answer. I can perhaps best try toilluminate the issues involved by mentioning two interpretations which Ithink would not be correct.

First, it would not be correct to see this as an anti-NATO initiative orsomething that implies a two-way split within the Atlantic community.


Although some Americans have expressed such fears, WEU’s Secretary-General Javier Solana has steadily told them that they are mistaken and heis well placed to know the truth, being also the EU’s High Representativefor its new-style security and defence policy. After all, the EU took its keydecisions in June 1999 in the middle of the Kosovo crisis where NATOwas taking the lead and was receiving loyal support in doing so from bothallied and non-allied Europeans. The Europeans know very well that theystill need NATO, not just for carrying tough military operations of thiskind but also to provide a guaranteed framework for US—Europeanconsultation and a barrier to any nationalistic tendencies amongthemselves.

So the EU’s new initiative is in many ways remarkably ‘NATO-friendly’.It is still based on the idea of ‘dual use’ of European command structuresand other valuable military assets developed within NATO; in otherwords, the EU would have the possibility, just as WEU has had up to now,of asking NATO to lend such assets for use under European command andEU political control in a specific operation. More generally, the EU’sapproach is based on the idea of partnership, mutual reinforcement andcomplementarity with NATO since it specifies that the EU will leadoperations only where NATO as an institution is not involved.16 And evenin the field of improving defence capabilities the EU’s leaders have madeclear that they want to achieve improvements that will enhance NATO’sstrength as well, rather than allowing European nations to divert theirefforts towards a conflicting or less demanding set of militaryrequirements.

It will be important for any country that wants to associate itself withthe EU initiative to accept these political realities and to avoid anyapproach that creates unnecessary EU-NATO friction. NATO Secretary-General Lord Robertson, when trying to explain the contradictions inherentin his job during the new age of USA-Europe relations, has used a graphicimage by saying that he is quite capable of ‘riding two horses at once’.17

The Europeans will not thank anyone who tries to destroy their balancingact by shooting one of the two horses beneath them.

On the other hand, it is quite clear that the EU does not intend to beeither a subordinate to NATO or a kind of inferior copy of the Alliance. Itwill be a different type of defence player with a quite different set ofstrengths, including the possibility mentioned above of putting togetherintegrated packages of military and non-military actions. It will reflect adistinct set of European interests, which do not have to be in conflict withAtlantic interests but may objectively differ from them, for example in thedegree of priority and concern that the Europeans attach to certain risks,or in the precise type of military contribution that the Europeans’ culture,history and experience make it possible for them to offer.


In broader terms, as Solana has often stressed, acquiring defencecompetence will make the EU a more credible and capable global actor,better able to promote its specific interests both at the European and (whennecessary) the world level. He sees this greater European strength ashelping, among other things, to ensure that the Union can take fullresponsibility for its expanded territory as EU enlargement goes forward,because it will be better equipped to deal with all the crises and otherpossible dangers—apart from an old-style military attack—which mightthreaten that territory from outside.

In these respects the EU initiative seems to fit well with the idea of amore multipolar world order in which groups of democratic states canlegitimately play different roles and can serve the common cause ofprosperity, peace and order in different ways. As former US Secretary ofState Madeleine Albright said, and as many Europeans have been happy toquote: ‘We’—that is the USA and Europe—‘are cousins, not clones.’18 Andas a final remark, if NATO can learn to live with the EU and respect it asan independent partner, this experience may also make it easier for‘mutually reinforcing’ relationships to emerge between NATO and otherstrategic partners and institutions.

The second incorrect interpretation would, however, be to push thisanalysis too far and to conclude that the EU will now become militarized,or that it could start to present some kind of strategic challenge orcompetition to its neighbours. Such concerns might be felt on the southernas well as the eastern borders of the EU, but it is hard to see any realfoundation for them. The EU is in essence a peaceful organism which triesto build prosperity and democracy through a process of interdependentcooperation with partners both close to its borders and further away. Itwould be the first to suffer from any destabilization in the larger Europeand it has gone to some trouble to reassure its neighbours that its defencepowers will only be used as a last resort, in accord with the principles ofthe UN Charter. Of course, the more successful the EU can be in building aframework for its neighbours and partners to participate directly in EU-ledactions, the less reason those nations will have to misunderstand the natureof such operations or to fear that European strength could be used inimproper ways.

But even if there is not to be a militarization of EU policy, it is legitimateto hope that the new defence competence will lead to a certain‘securitization’ of EU thinking: that is, a greater awareness by the EU of thesecurity consequences of its actions and a greater readiness to combine andadjust its various policy instruments for overarching security goals. Inparticular, if EU enlargement is to be carried out with proper regard foreveryone’s interests and with a positive net effect on stability, it will beimportant for the EU to understand the possible security implications andprepare constructive solutions for them. In south-eastern Europe, the EU’s


Stability and Growth Pact initiative adopted at Amsterdam in June 1997has shown some welcome signs of this security-conscious thinking. In theNordic—Baltic region, the EU has already acknowledged that theexpansion of its borders must take place in a way that respects the integrityof Russian territory and which, specifically, brings new advantages ratherthan new problems for Kaliningrad. As a general proposition I wouldsuggest that the EU needs to give much more concrete support to regionalnetworks which soften the future and present dividing line of the EUfrontier, and that a security-based approach should lead it to give evengreater attention to those networks that involve Russia—the NorthernDimension, the Barents region and Baltic Sea frameworks and the BlackSea Economic Cooperation.19

EFFECT OF THE EU DEFENCE INITIATIVE ON Russia—EURELATIONSHIP

The final question I raised is about how the longer-term Russia—EUrelationship could be affected by bringing European defence into theequation. This means looking ahead into such an uncertain future that itsimplications can only be tackled by exploring another set of questions.First, what prospects is the EU already offering to Russia and how doesRussia feel about taking them up? The EU’s Strategy document mentionedabove talks not just about strategic partnership but also about the‘integration of Russia into a wider area of cooperation in Europe’, as a wayof ‘help[ing] Russia to assert its European identity’. It mentions the idea ofa future free trade area between the EU and Russia—and an influentialBritish academic, Charles Grant, has recently suggested that the terms of thiseconomic relationship could be modelled on those of the present EuropeanEnvironment Agency agreement with Norway and Iceland, which implies avery close degree of integration indeed.20 In fact, about one-third ofRussia’s external trade is already done with EU countries, and if we addedto this Russia’s trade with Turkey and the central European countries whohope soon to join the EU, the proportion would rise to nearly one-half.21

Besides, many parts of Russia’s western territory are already quite involvedin and influenced by patterns of regional trade and cooperation, such asjoint infrastructure developments, which link them intimately with presentor future members of the EU. So the idea of a larger Russia—EU tradecommunity is not without a certain material foundation and some aspectsof it might seem rather attractive for the EU as well, notably the marketthat would be offered by the huge Russian population and the prospect ofbeing able to share in developing Russia’s great natural resources. (Ifcombined with the EU entry of central and east European countries, itwould also have the effect of giving Russia full and equal access again to their


markets, in a way that has not been possible since the end of the Councilfor Mutual Economic Assistance.)

However, when we look at it in the cold light of today’s realities theachievement of this dream seems much more difficult and perhaps evendoubtful. There is a big difference in economic and social conditionsbetween Russia and western/central Europe, and the early imposition offree trade, let alone the free movement of persons and capital, would risksevere destabilization on both sides. Applying EU norms across the wholeof Russian territory, even in the fields directly related to trade, such ascompetition policy and social and environmental standards, would be afrightening task.

There is a further question that needs to be asked, about whether Russiareally understands and accepts what it means to be part of an integrationprocess in the European sense. It is true that Russian attitudes to the Westinclude a strong element of wanting to ‘belong’, and a wish to take partfully and equally in the development of the rules of a free internationalcommunity. It could also be argued that the EU offers a much better settingfor Russia to try to fulfil this goal than NATO does, since the USA will notbe involved, and since the European power structure is more balanced andfluid with obvious areas of strength on both the Russian and the EU sides.However—and this is a point on which the British are well qualified tospeak—living in the EU style brings changes and demands sacrifices whichare very hard to imagine when looking at it from the outside. It meansexposing one’s national identity to a very intimate mixing process with awide range of other European societies and cultures and with quiteunpredictable results. It involves very specific and wide-ranging transfers ofsovereignty—a sovereignty that in Russia’s case appears to have greatpolitical and psychological value and presumably would not be easy tosurrender even in part. In the security field it puts constraints on the kindsof action that can be considered in defence of national interests, bothinternally and externally; and even if it does not involve formal guaranteesit does bring a strong obligation of solidarity towards other EU members introuble. As Austria has discovered recently, these EU common values andthe common standards that they imply are not just a matter of theory butcan lead to political reactions which, to any outside observer, would lookvery like interference by some EU members in other members’ internalaffairs.22 Is life in such a promiscuous community really how Russia seesits future, and is Russia willing to pay the price that it will demand? Indeed,is the EU willing to ‘get into bed’ with Russia in the same spirit, and is itready to contemplate the great changes in the balance of its own cultureand identity which the incorporation of Russia—and a genuine adaptationto Russia’s needs and interests—would bring?


In case these questions are not difficult enough, I will end this analysiswith four others, more specifically related to security, and looking furtherahead into the possible new dynamics of EU-Russia relations:

1. Are current Western policies, including EU policies, on the use andtransport of Eurasian oil and gas resources consistent with a futureRussia—EU economic partnership and, specifically, with EU members’own reliance on Russian gas and oil? Should European policy in thisrespect reflect different interests from those of the USA?

2. In the vision of an EU-Russia free trade area or of an even more fullyintegrated partnership, what would be the role of Russia’s CISneighbours? Might the EU and Russia together be able to find theformula for voluntary, mutually profitable and durable cooperationwith all these states which neither the EU nor Russia could perhapsfind today on its own? What would Russia’s attitude be if theseneighbours also want to establish cooperative links with the EU’s newdefence identity, as Ukraine has done already?

3. Will the EU’s new defence responsibilities in crisis managementgradually lead the Union to adopt more distinctive and strongerpositions on issues of arms control, export control and non-proliferation, and if so, are these positions likely to strengthen or tocomplicate the EU’s strategic partnership with Russia?

4. Do the EU and Russia have conflicting, complementary or parallelsecurity interests towards such neighbours as Iran, Afghanistan, Indiaand China, and towards the Asian and Pacific regions as a whole?Could any deeper involvement of Russia in the European integrationprocess bring lessons and possible new solutions for the organizationof multinational security structures involving Russia in these othergeographical regions? And if not, how difficult would it be for Russiato exist with a strengthened security community on its western borderwhile having to play by a different and more old-fashioned set of rulestowards the east and south?

NOTES

1. The statements in this chapter are made in a purely personal capacity.2. Western European Union, originating from the Brussels Treaty of 1948 and

modified Brussels Treaty of 1954, is a European defence organization withten full member states: Belgium, France, Germany, Greece, Italy,Luxembourg, Netherlands, Portugal, Spain and the UK.

3. In addition to its full members, the WEU offers wide-ranging involvement inits policy-making work and activities to associate members (Czech Republic,Hungary, Iceland, Norway, Poland, Turkey), five observers (Austria,


Denmark, Finland, Ireland, Sweden) and seven associate partners (Bulgaria,Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Romania, Slovakia, Slovenia).

4. The EU’s efforts to develop a Common European Security and Defence Policy(CESDP), involving policy-making work within the ‘second pillar’ of theUnion (in conjunction with the the Common Foreign and Security Policy) andthe identification/enhancement of both military and paramilitary interventioncapabilities, were formally launched at the Pörtschach European Councilmeeting at the end of 1998. Principles and structural arrangements for thenew policy were worked out in stages and published notably in theconclusions of the European Councils at Cologne (3–4 June 1999) andHelsinki (10–11 December 1999).

5. The Helsinki European Council decided that, on full activation of the CESDPmachinery at the end of 2000, the key deliberative bodies below Council ofMinisters level would be a new Political and Security Committee manned byambassadors of the 16 member states permanently located in Brussels and aEuropean Military Committee meeting occasionally at Chiefs of DefenceStaff level but normally manned by senior military representatives. Interimversions of these two bodies began meeting on a trial basis in Brussels fromearly May 2000.

6. The EU’s global target for a military intervention capability was defined at theHelsinki European Council under the name of a Headline Goal. ACapabilities Commitment Conference, where each EU nation declared itsnational contribution to this pool of politically deployable troops, took placein November 2000 (under the French EU presidency).

7. The range of non-Article V ‘Petersberg tasks’ was defined in the WEU’sMinisterial Declaration issued at Petersberg near Bonn on 19 June 1992. TheEU incorporated the same wording, as an indication of the range of Europeanoperations for which it might wish to take political responsibility, in Article17 of the Treaty of Amsterdam, agreed upon on 17 June 1997 and signed on2 October 1997.

8. The Helsinki European Council decided to launch work in 2000 onidentifying the range of non-military (notably police) capabilities that mightbe required for Petersberg-type missions under EU command. The aim is toset a Headline Goal for such forces and identify national contributions, in thesame fashion as the military goals mentioned above.

9. The conclusions of the Feira European Council on 19–20 June 2000 set outmodalities for consultation with, and practical contributions by, a total of 15interested non-EU states in connection with the EU CESDP. The overallframework will cover all central and east European states recognized asapplicants to the EU, plus Cyprus and Malta, and plus Norway and Iceland,which are not applying for EU membership but are members of NATO. Withinthe framework, the six European non-EU Allies (Czech Republic, Hungary,Iceland, Norway, Poland, Turkey) will have somewhat more frequentconsultations and some additional rights, notably concerning the right to joinin EU operations which make use of NATO assets and capabilities.Consultations in these various formats were launched on an experimentalbasis, using the provisional EU organs established in May 2000, in the weeksimmediately following the Feira meeting.


10. Dmitri Danilov and Stephan de Spiegeleire, ‘From Decoupling to Recoupling:A New Security Relationship between Russia and Western Europe’, ChaillotPaper No. 31, WEU Institute Paris, April 1998. Available at www.weu.int/institute

11. The WEU Satellite Centre, sited at Torrejon in Spain, is a subordinate organof WEU devoted to the analysis of space-based imagery, which it can obtainboth from satellites owned by WEU countries (e.g. Helios) and from others(Russia, India, Ukraine among others).

12. NATO-WEU joint crisis management exercise CMX/CRISEX, 17–23February 2000. Observer status for the exercise was granted to Russia,Ukraine, NATO’s and WEU’s Mediterranean dialogue partners and certainother Partnership for Peace nations.

13. The Western European Armaments Group, established in 1993 to promoteEuropean armaments collaboration, is linked with WEU but has a differentmembership structure and procedures (WEU’s ten full members plusDenmark, Norway, Turkey).

14. Common Strategy of the European Union on Russia, adopted at the CologneEuropean Council, 4 June 1999.

15. The European Council held at Nice in December 2000 confirmed the EU’sassumption of its new defence responsibilities, made final provision for theclose-down of WEU’s former crisis management work (leaving WEU withonly its residual Article V competence), and in the process clarified suchmatters as any requirement for EU treaty amendment.

16. Formula used in the Helsinki European Council statement.17. Quoted by Lord Robertson at several press conferences in early 2000.18. Speech by Secretary Albright at the opening of the US Mission to the EU’s

new Chancery building, 10 March 2000. Available at www.useu.be/issues/useu0310.html

19. Charles Grant, ‘How to Help Russia’, Centre for European Reform (CER)Bulletin, February–March 2000.

20. Ibid.21. From OECD trade statistics 1997.22. The reference is to the political sanctions applied by other EU members

against Austria in spring 2000 following the formation of an Austriangovernment coalition including Jörg Haider’s neo-fascist party.


8Russian Strategic Uncertainty in an Era of

US Tactical Intrusiveness

ALVIN Z.RUBINSTEIN

From a geostrategic perspective, the USA’s national interest in Europe isbasically the same today as it was at the beginning of the twentiethcentury: to ensure that no single power dominates the European continent.This may not have been a crucial determinant of US involvement in theFirst World War, but it was certainly at the heart of US policy in theSecond World War, and again in the post-1945 period, as well asthroughout the era of bipolarity and rivalry between the USA and SovietUnion. Once the Cold War ended in December 1991, a dramaticallydifferent geostrategic environment was ushered in—or so it seemed at thetime. In the early 1990s, the international environment in many waysresembled that of the 1920s. None of the major powers was faced by aserious military threat or by a polarizing ideological or military adversary.As in the 1920s, this was the start of an era of assorted transitions inEurope, east Asia and the Middle East in the wake of collapsed empires,while the major powers preferred to look inwards to domestic challenges,with an attendant desire to downgrade foreign policy.

The USA had ‘won’ the Cold War or, as some have argued, the SovietUnion had ‘lost’ the Cold War. The important outcome was that,geostrategically, the USA could dominate the slowly emerging acentricinternational system and influence its evolution much more effectively thanit had been able to. In fact, if the USA had continued to operate within astatus quo NATO, it could have promoted security, reform andcooperation for all the nation-states of Europe; it could have decisivelyshaped both Europe’s security architecture and its political attitudes.Instead, Washington opted for the expansion of NATO. The determiningarguments for NATO enlargement had little or nothing to do with the USnational interest; little to do with a coherent US strategy for Europe andEurasia; and little to do with advancing global security and interests.The mistake has already been made—as an assessment of the worseningstrategic relationship between the USA and Russia will demonstrate. Still,strategy and the US national interest are continually under review, andgiven the capacity of domestically driven foreign policy moves tocompound mistakes into follies, there are grounds for deep concern over

the possibility of further expansion—that is, a second wave that mightinclude the Baltic States, Slovakia, Slovenia and Romania, among others.

NATO enlargement has quite possibly destroyed the best chance theinternational system had for a protracted period of peace and securitycooperation. George Kennan’s prescient words, written of a different era,nonetheless resonate for our situation: ‘Once again, as so often in thecourse of these rapidly moving events, Washington—troubled, hesitant,and ill-informed—had spoken, reluctantly, into the past.’1

Nothing better exemplifies Washington’s post-Cold War mishandling ofits relationship with Russia than NATO enlargement. First, by rammingNATO enlargement through in haste, the USA lost the opportunity tofashion an acceptable Pax Americana-type domination over the entireEuropean continent. NATO enlargement has repolarized the Europeansecurity environment. In 1992, conditions in Europe (including Eurasia)were conducive to a security and peace that had at its centre a USA thatcould provide guarantees to all countries on the continent: not only wasthere a functional hegemon, the USA, which did not covet any country’sterritory, but no country had any prospect of challenging or supplantingthe US position and role of manager, arbiter and benign superpower.Moreover, the non-NATO countries (small as well as large, weak as wellas strong, and vulnerable as well as secure) had a rare chance to lookinwards to develop viable institutions and promote democratization anddevelopment: indeed, the vision of a ‘common European home’, to whichthe Soviet Union’s Mikhail Gorbachev had aspired, was not an impossibledream.

NATO enlargement has upset this short-lived equilibrium among theinterdependent countries on the continent, to the detriment of US strategicinterests. The USA purports to seek security and stability, but these aremutually reinforcing phenomena only in a condition of essentialequilibrium, not in conditions of change. The expansion of NATO to theeast changed the calculus of power and the network of inter-relationships.The admission of Poland, the Czech Republic and Hungary enhanced theirsecurity, but not the security (or stability) of all European states. NATO’senlargement was perceived by Russia to be anti-Russian in character andaim. And there is little doubt that anti-Russian sentiment—undisguised orimplicit—did permeate the American Senate’s hearings on NATOenlargement held in October and November 1997. All advocates ofenlargement made it very clear that excluding Russia from membershipwas essential and inevitable for the indefinite future. As they defined Europe,Russia was beyond the pale. Fear of Russia served as a surrogate for aconvincing strategic rationale—which was never offered or effectivelyexplained.

The second consequence of NATO enlargement is the growingestrangement of Russia from the USA (somewhat modified by the events of


11 September 2001). NATO enlargement has had chilling effects onRussian-American relations. It has reopened a psychological and politicaldivide. The Soviet Union’s implosion at the end of December 1991 pushedthe frontiers of Russia in Europe back to where they had been in the earlyseventeenth century. Territorially shorn of a forward position in the heartof Europe, Russia became a militarily diminished power. Nonetheless, in1992, under Boris Yeltsin, the most pro-Western ruler Russia had everknown, the ‘Westernizers’ in the Russian elite—and the reformers—heldsway; and their aim was Russia’s acceptance in the common Europeanhome. NATO enlargement squelched all of these Russian diplomatic,political, military and cultural aspirations. The rhetoric of partnershipspouted periodically at summit meetings is just that: Moscow does notbelieve it. (If the USA still views Castro’s Cuba as an enemy, what mustMoscow think of the USA?)

Thirdly, NATO enlargement unwisely altered the calculus of Germany’sposition in an evolving Europe. By ending Germany’s position as a borderstate and placing it once again at the centre of Europe, NATO enlargementis likely, in time, to rekindle adversarial and competitive relationshipsbetween Germany and France and between Germany and Russia and, inthe process, complicate the possibility of a prolonged period of peace inEurope, which is a prime US objective and which may require a greater UScommitment, indefinitely, and involving considerably more resources thanwould have been necessary in the absence of enlargement.

Already the most powerful country in western Europe and the EU’sdominant member, within a decade or two Germany should regain theposition of economic and industrial power that it had on the eve of theFirst and Second World Wars. Central and eastern Europe will be morefirmly under Germany’s economic and political influence than they alreadyare. Indeed, the opposition in Poland and the Czech Republic fears that byjoining the EU the way would be open for Germans to buy up formerGerman lands. Another likely consequence of NATO enlargement will beto diminish the relative importance of France and the UK in the alliance.Bitter French criticisms of US hegemony are, in part, veiled hints of Frenchdispleasure with Germany’s increasing tilt towards the USA.

Enlargement answered Germany’s complex Eastern Problem, which hasthree facets: the vulnerability of its borders to unwanted migrations fromeastern Europe and the countries of the former Soviet Union; thepsychological feeling that Germans have of continuing ‘to live at a front-line’; and the sense that Germany should not again be squeezed between twoadversarial blocs but should take ‘its natural geographic place, which is inthe center of Europe, not at an artificial borderline of Europeansubregions’.2 But was it strategically in the US national interest? The USAwants strong allies—but not too strong, lest this result in an independentpolicy line not in the US interest. A bit of anxiety is not necessarily bad, for

RUSSIAN STRATEGIC UNCERTAINTY 83

nations as for individuals; it can spur cooperation and accommodation.From Washington’s perspective, Germany’s uneasiness over its easternborder reinforced its deference as a NATO ally and its need for acontinuing prominent American presence.

Empathetic and astute observers of German policy and cultural angstworry that nationalism rather than Europeanism are beginning to surfacein Germany’s approach to the countries of central and western Europe.While not believing that history must repeat itself, they foresee inevitabletensions which will require Germany to act with exceptional self-restraint.The distinguished historian of German history and politics Fritz Stern,when visiting Germany in early 2000, also spoke of a need for Germanrestraint. Where once the talk had only been of Europe and détente, today,he noted, there is a ‘new vocabulary of interests, great European power,and influence’.3

Fourthly, NATO enlargement has already adversely affected progress inarms control negotiations. Most analysts would, I think, agree that a close,comprehensive and constructive military relationship with Russia is aprimary US security interest. Notwithstanding straitened circumstances anda diminished conventional weapons capability, Russia remains a nuclearsuperpower. Only the USA is equipped to deal effectively with Russia on arange of critical nuclear and nuclear-related issues.

Russia’s nuclear condition is more worrisome now than it was during theCold War. The problems are many: less reliable command and controlsystems; the vulnerability to theft and tampering of nuclear stockpiles; thesale of nuclear technologies to such countries as China, Iran and India; thegrowing danger of nuclear accidents and pollution in a deteriorating socialand security environment in Russia; and, exacerbating and complicating allof this, is the stasis in START II negotiations, which stemmed from theDuma’s anger at NATO’s expansion in the east.

Starting in late 1996, Russian publications revealed a bitter hostility toNATO, whose expansion was widely compared to Nazi Germany’s Drangnach Osten, with the communist press caricaturing NATO Secretary-General Javier Solana’s ‘assurance in the form of a smilingboa constrictor’.4 The conviction that the USA and Germany wereconniving to acquire unchallenged supremacy over the world was sharedby both communists and non-communist nationalists. Aleksei Arbatovcriticized the USA for treating Russia as a defeated power. For him, NATOwas the cause of what had gone awry in Russian-American relations:‘NATO’s expansion to the east [was] undoubtedly a turning point inrelations between Russia and the West in the post-Cold-War period.’5

START II may eventually be ratified by the Duma, but the character anddegree of cooperation originally envisaged and needed to ensure full andexpeditious compliance is a new uncertainty. START III is problematical.Moreover, all signed arms control treaties are on the block, awaiting


Washington’s decision on ballistic missile defence (BMD). As a result ofNATO’s Kosovo war, the Russian military has emphatically committed toa first use’ doctrine of nuclear response, ‘in the event of need to repulsearmed aggression, if all other measures of resolving the crisis situation havebeen exhausted and have proven ineffective’. Acting President VladimirPutin formally issued the national security blueprint (kontseptsiianatsional’noi bezopasnosti) of the Russian Federation in January 2000.6

Fred C.Ikle’, Undersecretary of Defence for Policy in the Reaganadministration and a highly respected strategic thinker, has proved to beright. In testimony before the House Committee on National Security on17 July 1997, he not only expressed his concern that NATO enlargementwould complicate further efforts to proceed with nuclear downsizing, buthe stressed his fear that, in managing NATO enlargement, Washingtonwould be diverted from pressing ahead with Russia on much higher-priority nuclear issues. He noted: There is only so much time in high levelmeetings to cover multiple agendas. The nuclear issues that require Russianaction are so important, so overarching, that we must focus on them allour leverage and influence with Moscow, all the “carrots and sticks” thatwe can command for this continuing negotiation with the Russianauthorities.’7 In the field of arms control, as in other areas and on otherissues, the USA should avoid the triumphant notion that there is nothingRussia can do to prevent NATO’s further expansion. The essential concernis not what Russia will do but rather what it will not do.

Fifthly, NATO enlargement has been justified on grounds that it willstrengthen the alliance, that the ‘gains decisively outweigh the burdens’.Yet, historically, no alliance has strengthened itself by embracing weak,dependent, resource-poor, geographically vulnerable new members, noneof whom is in immediate or remotely foreseeable danger of attack by anypower. In its present geographical and military position, the USA does notneed the territory, know-how or capability offered by the countries ofcentral and eastern Europe. Nor is the security of any other NATO countrysignificantly enhanced by the three new members, whose defence only addsunnecessarily to every NATO country’s burden. As Michael Mandelbaumand others have argued, at a time when Europe is at peace and secure,NATO seems bent not on downsizing military establishments and buildingon the existing series of arms limitation agreements, but on upsetting theunparalleled strategic stability that it has enjoyed since the end of the ColdWar.8

More disturbing, if President Clinton’s statement that ‘NATO first [new]members should not be its last’, is borne out, there is even more troubleahead. Against this background, Russian suspicion was further heightenedin January 1998, when the US-Baltic Charter was signed in Washington.The Charter involves no binding commitments on the USA, but it enablesWashington to sidestep the issue of the next tranche, even while


reaffirming its pledge to keep NATO’s door open. In trying to alleviate thedisappointment of the Baltic States, the US may be opening the way for anew administration to push enlargement in response to domestic electoralconsiderations, even though there is no strategic case. During a three-dayvisit to Estonia in late January 2000, Deputy Secretary of State StrobeTalbott defined the fate of the Baltic States as ‘a litmus test for the fate ofthe entire continent’, and assured these countries that the USA wouldsupport them to become secure, stable, prosperous democracies integratedinto Euro-Atlantic structures.9 Reading public statements and speeches ofwhat US officials asseverate to Russian audiences on NATO’s benignpurposes is to wander into the world of Orwellian doublespeak andobscurantism.

Sixthly, unfortunately for strategic stability, the coincidence of NATOenlargement and NATO’s projection of military power in out-of-areamatters, that is, in regions lying beyond NATO’s mandate, has soundedalarm bells not just in Russia, but in China, India and other countries aswell.

In the past, divergent national interests and ambitions around NATO’svast southern flank have caused serious intra-Alliance tensions. In 1956there was the Suez crisis; in the mid-1960s and again in 1974 there wereTurkish-Greek tensions over Cyprus; in the late 1960s and 1970s, the Arab-Israeli conflict; in the late 1970s and 1980s, the west Europeans’ tilttowards Arab positions on peacemaking and towards the Palestinians, laxcommercial and political relations with Libya and an accommodatingapproach to Iran; in April 1986 the refusal of France and Spain to grant USbombers based in Britain over-flight privileges to attack targets in Libya inreprisal for Qaddafi’s terrorist action against American servicemen inBerlin.

When Yugoslavia imploded in 1991–92, Bosnia precipitatedacrimony and bitterness within NATO. At first, the west Europeans,feeling confident in their ability to manage the situation, sought to developa common approach. However, they soon realized their military limitationsand dependence on the USA for logistical, intelligence and combat support.With their sense of ineptness came a growing resentment at Washington’sequivocation. That mood was aggravated, especially in Paris, byWashington’s often high-handed behaviour, as illustrated by its lack ofconsultation on the timetable for NATO enlargement, the surpriseannouncement by Secretary of Defense William Cohen that Americantroops would be withdrawn from Bosnia by 30 June 1998 (anannouncement subsequently retracted), and rejection of the view of amajority of NATO’s leaders at Madrid in July 1997 in favour of membershipfor Slovenia and Romania (as well as for Poland, the Czech Republic andHungary).10


The high expectations for the US-cobbled Dayton Accords of December1995 have steadily dropped, and American troops in Bosnia have no exitstrategy—and there are pathetically few signs that the objective of the re-creation of a multi-ethnic, multi-religious, democratic Bosnia is realizable:a ‘politically correct’ policy for Bosnia seems beyond even the Americancapability of demonstrating its capacity for social engineering; meanwhile,the costs continue to rise, far exceeding initial US administration estimates.

Compared with Bosnia, Kosovo has spawned even more doleful strategicconsequences for the US policy of pushing NATO into assuming out-of-area roles for which the Alliance was never intended. The full force ofNATO’s military power was directed against Serbia on 24 March 1999,after Serbia refused to accept a NATO demand for NATO-led supervisionof the Serbian province of Kosovo in order to protect the Albanians livingthere. Clinton unleashed NATO’s air power (mostly US planes), expectingan early capitulation. Instead, the Serbs resisted stubbornly. On 7 May1999, US planes mistakenly bombed the Chinese Embassy in Belgrade,evoking sharp criticisms from Beijing of USA’s hegemonic ambitions, all-too-free recourse to military means to get its way, and failure to bring thematter first to the UN Security Council. On 10 June 1999, PresidentClinton reported to the nation that ‘the Serb army and police arewithdrawing from Kosovo. We have achieved a victory for a safer world,for our democratic values and for a stronger America.’11

Critics remain unconvinced. They continue to believe that the war wasavoidable. They contend (1) that the USA could have fashioned a politicalsettlement by working through the UN Security Council in March, as itwas eventually required to do in June, in order to obtain the diplomaticlegitimacy to accompany its triumph on the battlefield; (2) that awillingness to accept Serbian sovereignty over Kosovo at Rambouilletin March 1999, as the UN did in June, might have led Serbian PresidentMilosevic to grant the Albanians official autonomy; and (3) that Clinton’srecourse to NATO and a unilateralist policy was reinforced by his belief inthe US role as ‘the indispensable nation’, which demonstrated just how farhe had departed from his early commitment to multilateralism andconstructive engagement.

The main point to be emphasized here is that NATO’s overwhelming useof power against a small country lying outside NATO’s sphere has hadadverse repercussions for US relations with Russia, China and the UN.Carl von Clausewitz warned of the need always to take account of theunpredictable that occurs in ‘the fog of war’ and to remember that war cannever be separated from political intercourse. The consequences ofNATO’s pummelling of Serbia and occupation of Kosovo are 40,000NATO troops bogged down in an occupation without an exit strategy;costs for reconstruction and development that are not forthcoming fromwestern Europe or the USA; an aggravation of US—Russian relations;


Russia’s position that it is more justified in its application ofdisproportionate force against the rebels in Chechnya than NATO was inattacking Serbia; western Europe’s uneasiness over its dependence on theUSA; and a new arms race as other powers seek to enhance their militarycapability to offset the technological and logistical prowess displayed bythe USA in Kosovo. In retrospect, the strategic consequences for the US—Russian relationship seem likely to intensify their re-emerging adversarialrelationship.

Seventhly, inevitably, NATO enlargement and NATO’s savagedestruction of Serbia’s civilian infrastructure (which, it must be noted,went far beyond the destruction wreaked on Saddam Hussein’s Iraq overthe past decade) have served to focus the Russian military’s attention onsecurity issues in ways that do not augur well for irenic cooperation inbuilding cooperative security in Europe. In the post-Yeltsin era, anyRussian leader is likely to proceed on the assumption that the USA is theprime adversary of and threat to Russian interests; and he may be expectedto engage in skilful manoeuvering and adept use of a variety of oftencontradictory tactics to safeguard and advance Russian foreign policyinterests.

Eighthly, NATO’s Partnership for Peace (PfP) activities in Transcaucasiaand central Asia heighten Russia’s sense of beleaguerment. An adjunct ofNATO enlargement, PfP’s intrusiveness is interwoven with the competitionfor control of oil and natural-gas pipelines and reserves in the region, withthe result that there seems to be emerging a new ‘Great Game’ in Eurasia,involving Russia, the USA, Iran and Turkey. NATO’s intrusiveness is easilycatalogued: in September 1997, for example, US-led military exercises wereheld with Kazakh-Kyrgyz-Uzbek forces; in October 1997, the then USambassador to NATO, Robert Hunter, visited Azerbaijan and Georgiafor discussions on PfP programmes and NATO-sponsored activities to beheld on the territory of these two nations; and in October 1998 the thenSecretary-General of NATO, Javier Solana, spoke in Tbilisi of NATO’sinterest in making the region’s security environment congenial forinvestment and development and described the region as part of Euro-Atlantic security space.12 For his part, Georgian President EduardShevardnadze, who, has been courting NATO in order to offset Russianpressures for military bases, speaks openly of his intention to apply forNATO admission at the earliest opportunity.13 And in late December1999, after a visit to NATO headquarters, Azerbaijan’s Foreign Ministerannounced his country’s interest in applying for membership; in themeantime, Azerbaijan’s parliament has approved a status of forcesagreement with NATO, and Azerbaijan dispatched its first peacekeepingcontingent (a platoon) to the NATO-led operation in Kosovo. Is this allsymbolism? Too much can perhaps be made of these various activities. ButRussian military planners see them through a prism of suspicion as


attempts by NATO to build outposts of influence all along Russia’svulnerable southern periphery. To the extent that Moscow views NATO’sactivism in the region as a quest for strategic advantage, and not just forstrategic denial, its hostility and worst-case interpretations must beexpected.

Finally, how an enlarged NATO is to handle Russia is still an openquestion. In his speech at West Point on 31 May 1997, President Clintoninsisted that NATO enlargement would strengthen the Alliance; that itwould ‘provide a secure climate where freedom, democracy, and prosperitycan flourish’; that NATO would encourage prospective members to resolvetheir differences peacefully; and that NATO enlargement together with PfPwould erase ‘the artificial line in Europe that Stalin drew and bring Europetogether in security, not keep it apart in insecurity’.14

Russia’s President Vladimir Putin is an uncertain factor in the future ofthe overall US—Russian relationship. For the moment, however, at least inthe realm of foreign policy, it is clear that he is a nationalist, a statist and apragmatist. Eager to improve relations with the EU, and especially withGermany, his policy towards Yugoslavia has been geared towards Europerather than the USA. For example, Putin was quick to embrace theelectoral defeat of Slobodan Milosevic; to send the Russian ForeignMinister to urge Milosevic to accept the verdict of the Serbian people andnot resist the turnover of administrations; and to recognize the newgovernment of Vojislav Kostunica. In the uncertain Balkan political-diplomatic arena, Putin will try to exploit west European uneasiness overthe US approach to such issues as National Missile Defence, the ABMtreaty and further expansion of NATO in order to pursue Russia’sobjectives on the continent.

NOTES

1. George F.Kennan, Russia Leaves the War (Princeton, NJ, 1956), p. 517.2. Reinhardt Rummel, The German Debate on International Security

Institutions’, in Marco Carnovale (ed.), European Security and InternationalInstitutions after the Cold War (New York, 1995), p. 187.

3. Roger Cohen, ‘A Peacemaker for the Germans’, New York Times, 8 January2000, p. B9.

4. J.L.Black, Russia Faces NATO Expansion: Bearing Gifts or Bearing Arms?(Lanham, MD, 2000), p. 64.

5. Ibid., p. 95.6. ‘Kontseptsiia natsional’noi bezopasnosti Rossiiskoi Federatsii’, Nezavisimoe

voennoe obozrenie, no. 1, 14–20 January 2000.7. Statement by the Honorable Fred C.Ikle’ before the Committee on National

Security, US House of Representatives, Washington, DC, 17 July 1997.


8. Michael Mandelbaum, The Dawn of Peace in Europe (New York, 1996),passim.

9. As quoted in Jamestown Foundation, Monitor, vol. 6, no. 21, 31 January2000, p. 3.

10. For example, see R.W.Apple, Jr, ‘Clinton on His Foreign Policy: A Rose-tinted World’, New York Times, 18 December 1997, p. A12.

11. ‘Clinton’s Remarks on Balkan War’, New York Times, 11 June 1999.12. See ‘The South Caucasus: Solana in Tbilisi’, Jamestown Foundation, Monitor,

4, no. 180, 1 October 1998, p. 3.13. ‘Shevardnadze Winds Up Landmark Visit to the US’, Jamestown Foundation,

Monitor, vol. 3, no. 142, 22 July 1997, p. 4; see also ‘Georgia Knock-Knock-Knocking at NATO’s Door’, ibid., vol. 6, no. 5, 7 January 2000.

14. See www.pub.whitehouse.gov


Part III:

A Northern Passage

9Opportunities and Challenges for Russia in

the Nordic—Baltic Region

PAVEL K.BAEV

INTRODUCTION

During the transition of power from its first president to his hand-pickedsuccessor, Russia appeared to waver at various crossroads in its internaltransformation and external orientation. Hard choices with high-riskfactors were awaiting decisions from President Vladimir Putin in almostevery political direction except one. The vast north-western area lookedremarkably uncomplicated and problem-free, while offering someattractive cooperative options. But in fact the scale of hidden securitychallenges in this region is no smaller than in the Caucasus, and some ofthem even have the potential of acquiring truly catastrophic proportions.

In the Nordic—Baltic area Russia is most firmly anchored to theemerging new European security order through well-developedinstitutional frameworks. Russia’s north-west has traditionally been its‘window to Europe’ and it now offers a natural interface with well-developed cross-border links. The potential for violent conflicts in this areais by far the lowest around Russia’s borders; recurrent tensions in itsrelations with the three Baltic States have reliable channels for resolution,while the brewing internal crisis in Belarus has little impact on the Baltic-Nordic neighbourhood. Sustained reductions of armed forces in the area,and particularly the massive cuts in Russian defence structures, have inessence led to the demilitarization of the regional security agenda. The newRussian leadership shows interest in exploring the emerging opportunitiesfor expanded cooperation in the area; Russian regional leaders alsorecognize their European interests.

The dilemma of East-West appears irrelevant for Russia’s prospects inthis direction; the soul-searching Eurasian ideas do not seem to make muchsense here. However, one issue that has the potential for escalating into amajor political crisis and blocking cooperation in many fields is the nextround of NATO enlargement. Even without artificial urgency anddeliberate prioritization, this issue looms in the background of many

international initiatives and poisons the political atmosphere. Twounfortunate results of this hidden and postponed crisis are the poormilitary-to-military contacts and the hugely inadequate attention paid inthe West to the increasing problems of Russia’s vast nuclear arsenal in theFar North.1

The aim of this chapter is to examine the unique combination ofopportunities and risks for Russia and its Western partners in the Nordic—Baltic area. It starts by examining the various institutional frameworks inthe area, focusing particularly on the new cooperative agenda with the EU.It then looks into the potential crisis that a new wave of NATOenlargement could cause. Priorities of the Russian leadership, personifiedas the ‘Putin factor’, are evaluated. Lastly, it presents the extraordinaryrisks related to Russia’s poor maintenance of its nuclear structures in theregion.

INSTITUTIONAL FRAMEWORKS AND THE NEWCOOPERATIVE AGENDA

The Nordic—Baltic area is unique in its wealth of various institutionalframeworks which, unlike in some other European sub-regions, actuallywork and perform useful functions.2 Russia is an active member of theBaltic Sea Cooperation Council and the Barents Euro-Arctic Initiative, bothlaunched at the beginning of the 1990s.3 Since these institutions haveprovided for the sustained development of economic, cultural and politicalties, in 1997 and early 1998 it appeared possible that Russia would be ableto achieve a breakthrough towards a deep engagement with qualitativelystronger links to northern Europe, overcoming the numerous controversiesin its relations with the three Baltic states.4 That opportunity was missed inessence owing to the poor state of the Russian economy, which led to, andwas much aggravated by, the August 1998 financial crash. This massiveand sudden crisis showed very clearly the limited effectiveness of theavailable institutional structures for dealing with Russian-scale disastersand their meagre potential for further development both in the economicarea (since Russian markets contracted so greatly) and in the politicalsphere (since Russian politics became introverted).5

The Russian leadership, faced with impending double elections(parliamentary and presidential, with the gubernatorial elections not faroff) which were liable to bring about a massive redistribution of power,generally lost interest in the Nordic—Baltic area. While promisingnew opportunities had started to emerge there, they required hard andsustained work—and promised results only in the medium term. Finland,since joining the EU in 1995, had been planning an initiative that wouldchannel the Union’s activities towards the Baltic States and north-westernRussia. The initiative, named the Northern Dimension, was announced by

OPPORTUNITIES IN THE NORDIC—BALTIC REGION 93

Prime Minister Lipponen in September 1997 in order to prepare the groundfor launching it as a major EU programme during the Finnish presidency inthe second half of 1999.6 Russia was presented with ample opportunities toparticipate in designing and focusing specific projects within thisframework, but appeared slow and inattentive.

Nevertheless, by the end of the 1990s the increased activity of the EU inthe Nordic—Baltic region had made it the major actor there with much moreinfluence, resources and dynamism than all the other institutionalframeworks combined. Many EU-supported cross-border projects havebeen launched involving Russian participants mostly on regional and locallevels.7 Significantly, Russian economic relations with the three Balticstates had shown stability and growth throughout the 1990s, despiteoccasional political rows and scandals (such as with Latvia in spring1998).8 Without going into too much detail on economic interactions(addressed in Chapter 10 by Ingmar Oldberg), we can take it for grantedthat north-western Russia has the best opportunities for direct foreigninvestment (and not just ‘adventure capital’ flocking to Moscow), forproductive cross-border contacts, and for external aid focused on the mosturgent societal problems.9

The region that has best been able to use these new opportunities duringthe past few years has been the Novgorod oblast, where reform-orientedleadership has succeeded in creating an investor-friendly climate. Kareliahas developed useful skills in exploiting Finnish interest in launching jointprojects, without provoking any ‘unhealthy’ nationalistic movements oneither side of the border. Kaliningrad, while sinking into the mire of urbandecay and social fragmentation (much aggravated by pervasive crime,booming drug trafficking and an AIDS epidemic), is consistently seekinginternational aid to struggle with its ills and hoping to find new prospectsby opening up towards its Baltic neighbours.10 St Petersburg, with its hugeindustrial, scientific and cultural potential, aspires to become a naturalcapital of the Europeanized north-western Russia as well as one of thefocal points of the Northern Dimension.11 At the same time, Murmanskand Arkhangelsk oblasts, which had a very promising start in the early1990s with the Barents Initiative, have found themselves on the far fringe ofthe Northern Dimension and are struggling to attract more attention.

Promising as it is, the EU-centred cooperative agenda in the Nordic—Baltic region could be significantly reduced and narrowed down, first of allat the expense of Russia. At the December 1999 EU summit in Helsinki,which was supposed to make a big engagement offer to Russia, theChechen issue very clearly hijacked the agenda and devalued the offer.That issue effected a whole range of cooperative projects involving Russia.Another issue that objectively limits the scale of the whole NorthernDimension in the EU’s activities is Kosovo, which will continue to requirepriority in political attention and resource distribution; for most EU


members the need to stabilize the Balkans is more serious than the need toengage north-western Russia.12 That may result in a shift in focus of theNorthern Dimension towards helping the Baltic states to prepare to jointhe EU, perhaps towards 2010, and the Russian regions might findthemselves neglected and pushed out of the most dynamic frameworks.

WHO NEEDS ANOTHER NATO ENLARGEMENTCRISIS?

In the emotional, disruptive and essentially counterproductive debatesbetween NATO and Russia on the prospects of enlargement in 1993–97,the issue of the ‘Atlanticization’ of the three Baltic states was never far fromthe surface. For Moscow, Hungary’s or the Czech Republic’s membershipin NATO is of little geopolitical importance; Poland certainly has moredirect impact; but the most significant threat is seen in the fact that theentry of three former Warsaw Pact states into the Atlantic Alliance inevitablyopens the prospect of its further expansion to include the three formerSoviet Baltic republics.13 For the solid majority of the Russian political elitethis prospect is simply unacceptable; mainstream commentators and mediapundits, who were so sophisticated in the first round of the NATOdebates, now see no need to produce a list of reasons or any elaborateargument.14

The resolution of the crisis in NATO-Russia relations in May 1997through the Founding Act (a pompous but not legally binding document)was not satisfactory, and neither side perceived the Permanent JointCouncil as a body capable of developing a mature partnership on a newlevel.15 Indeed, these structures of cooperation failed to produce a commonunderstanding over the escalating crisis in Kosovo and then all butcollapsed when NATO resorted to a massive use of air power againstYugoslavia.16 While Russia did play a constructive role in finding a politicalway out of that war (some would say saving NATO from a suicidal failure)and has duly participated in KFOR (the NATO Kosovo Force), the Kosovocrisis made a huge difference in NATO-Russian relations and will continueto generate mistrust and a sense of threat for years to come.17

The normalization of relations with NATO initiated by Putineven before he was elected president does not amount to overcoming therift and restarting the partnership. The key national security documentsapproved in early 2000 clearly imply the possibility of a militaryconfrontation with the Alliance (without directly defining it as the enemy,as the drafts did), a possibility that first emerged as a ‘clear and presentdanger’ against the background of the Kosovo war.18 Certainly, thesedocuments should not be interpreted as guidelines, but the character ofpost-Kosovo contacts between the Russian military and NATO could beperhaps described as controlled hostility, which corresponds to the détente


(quite possibly, short-lived) on the political level. Arms control is again(very much like in the Brezhnev era) being instrumentalized for reducingthe risk of a major confrontation, but the reality of a fundamental conflictis essentially taken for granted by the majority of the Russian politicalelite. As far as the Baltic ‘theatre’ is concerned, the problem is that the1990s saw a massive demilitarization, which on the Russian side isirreversible, leaving Moscow with many strategic weaknesses andvulnerabilities, including Kaliningrad.

On the NATO side, the perceptions might be different and more varied,and the concerns about isolating and alienating Russia are widespread.NATO has to give top priority to sustaining its operations in Bosnia andKosovo, and cooperation with Russia is an important element of both.19

Fresh efforts undertaken by the UK, France and Germany to create anindependent European military capability for dealing with local conflictsare also focused on the Balkans.20 This concentration of attention andresources on the southern flank objectively works against enlarging NATOin the Baltic area (Slovenia has become the most useful candidate). In theUSA, which more or less unilaterally determined the dynamics and thescale of the first wave of enlargement, the drive for expanding the Alliancefurther is all but non-existent. President George W.Bush, who is generallyless interested in European affairs, relies on Republican experts who arguefor consolidating rather than expanding the Alliance and limiting USsecurity commitments.

Although none of the major Euro-Atlantic players is interested in a newphase of NATO enlargement in the Baltic direction, it still might happen.The three Baltic states, following the example of Poland, Hungary and theCzech Republic, could initiate this process by advancing ‘moralresponsibility’ arguments and trying to make Germany the champion oftheir cause. They may become particularly interested in speeding up their‘Atlanticization’ if the EU enlargement proves to be a slow-moving processwith their possible accession dates beyond 2010. In this situation, Vilnius(most active in the Atlantic networks), Riga and Tallinn would hardly findthe Baltic Charter sufficiently reassuring and would most likelyinstrumentalize the ‘Russian threat’ (by playing up the Chechen war) inorder to attract more attention in NATO headquarters.21

Another party that might be interested in a new NATO enlargementcrisis is, paradoxical as it may seem, Russia. The remarkable internalcohesion achieved around Vladimir Putin’s rise to power may prove to beshort-lived as he starts to implement policies challenging the interests of‘oligarchs’ and regional leaders. This might generate a need for a new causefor political mobilization (particularly as public support for the Chechenwar declines), and a new confrontation with NATO could be useful in thisrespect. It should be noted, however, that at the beginning of hispresidency, Putin has demonstrated a clear intention of avoiding such


confrontation. Indeed, he was only too glad to seize on the opportunitiesprovided by 11 September 2001 both to deflect the criticism of Russia’s warin Chechnya and even more to reconcile the relations with the USA andNATO.

A MAN FROM ST PETERSBURG

Several features of Putin’s personal style of leadership and his initialpolitical agenda have direct relevance for Russia’s short-term prospects inthe Nordic—Baltic area. First of all, it is obvious that Vladimir Putin, verymuch unlike previous Russian and Soviet leaders, does not have strongpersonal connections to and feelings for the Russian deep periphery(glubinka); nor does he cherish any of the vague Eurasian ideas thatEvgenii Primakov held so dear. Putin is essentially a man from StPetersburg, which is the most Europe-oriented urban centre in Russia; hisformative experience was acquired in East Germany, perhaps not ashowcase of European civilization but still certainly a part of Mitteleuropa.Therefore, it comes as no surprise to find a ‘natural’ European orientationin the new Russian leader, who might be inclined to give relations withnorth-western Europe more of his personal attention.22

This argument should not be interpreted as an attempt to portray Putinas a Europeanist or a westernizer because, in essence, he is a product of theKGB bureaucracy with all its advantages of professionalism, loyalty andrelative incorruptibility, and disadvantages such as lack of flexibility andimagination. At first it seemed that he was less interested in befriendingEuropean leaders than Yeltsin was; his understanding of ‘big politics’ wasprobably closer to hard bargaining on the top level than to partnershipbased on personal understanding and trust. He has shown skill in strategichorse-trading with the USA but until 11 September could not find manyassets for bargaining in the Nordic—Baltic region. He is very much focusedon the role of the state and, by extension, on inter-state relations, failing torecognize the new supranational quality achieved in the course of Europeanintegration and finding it difficult to relate to the EU as the major player inthe area. Besides, each new step in advancing the political and militaryunion with Belarus, which is widely perceived in the West (includingPoland and the Baltic States) as an authoritarian and inherently unstableoutcast, implicitly complicates Russia’s European positions.

One message that Putin has been trying to get across in his initialEuropean forays is an invitation to invest. While even the most generalcontours of his economic policies have so far remained unclear, thedetermination to cut down on external borrowing and the intention tochange the investment climate from a ‘criminal and risky’ into a ‘friendlyand safe’ one have been declared unequivocally. The hidden problem hereis that the liberal market-oriented prescriptions do not sit well with Putin’s


vision of a strong state modelled on such a vertically integrated structure asthe KGB. His obsession with central control precludes establishment of any‘free economic zones’ (on the Chinese model), for instance, in Kaliningrad.Defying Moscow’s gravitational pull, the new Russian president welcomesevery opportunity to raise St Petersburg’s European profile (despitepersonal tensions with Governor Vladimir Iakovlev) and praises theachievements of Novgorod’s reform-oriented Governor Mikhail Prusak.However, the emphasis on intra-regional and cross-border cooperation,built into the EU’s Northern Dimension programme, runs against Putin’spolitical master plan.

Generally, the contradiction is that the most promising prospects in theNordic—Baltic area are in the economic, communications/information,social/ecological and other non-state-level interactions (often described asthe ‘soft security’ field), while Putin is very much a ‘hard security’ man,with strong preferences for all sorts of ‘power instruments’, from secretservices to nuclear submarines. And that brings us to the most serioussecurity risks in the region.

‘THINKING ABOUT THE UNTHINKABLE’ UP NORTH

One fundamental achievement of the 1990s in the Nordic—Baltic regionwas demilitarization, which has reached the level on which armedconfrontation is practically impossible.23 President Yeltsin’s confidence-building initiatives presented in Stockholm in December 1997 and theresolution of the CFE ‘flank issue’ at the December 1999 Istanbul summitof the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe haveessentially covered a high-profile arms control agenda. Russia in the mid-term perspective could not rebuild a military potential sufficient even foroccupying the three Baltic states.24 There is, however, one crucial exceptionto this picture of disarmament: the massive concentration of nuclearweapons on the Kola Peninsula.

The military dimension was deliberately left out of the Barents Initiative,which allowed cooperation to make an unimpeded start but left the nuclearproblem unattended.25 Military-to-military contacts in the framework ofNATO’s Partnership for Peace programme have been on a very limitedscale and could not make much impact either on the force readiness or onthe mindsets of officers.26 In fact, the ongoing reductions in Russia’sstrategic arsenal do not reduce nuclear risks and may even aggravate themas retired submarines are left to rust with their reactors unprotected and asnuclear warheads are disabled without proper treatment of radioactivematerials. International attempts to assess the scale of this nuclear disasterrevealed such a horrific picture that the Russian authorities, being unableto reduce the risks, opted for suppressing the activities ofenvironmentalists.27


One aspect of the nuclear problem in the Kola Peninsula is technical andfinancial. Most of the nuclear weapons and reactors belong to theNorthern Fleet, which throughout the 1990s was seriously underfinancedand was unable to provide proper maintenance.28 The navy, with itssophisticated weapon systems, is in principle the most vulnerable element ofthe armed forces, and under-resourcing significantly increases the risks oftechnological accidents which (as the Kursk tragedy has reminded us) couldeasily acquire disastrous proportions, or even catastrophic ones whennuclear assets are involved. The second Chechen war is consuming a verylarge portion of the armed forces’ depleted resources,29 and the navy isinevitably suffering from further deprioritization. Russia’s strengthenedpolitical reliance on the nuclear status does not translate into a noticeableflow of funds to the naval strategic systems; Moscow requires only a fewstrategic submarines in order to be able to perform. President Putin mighthave a personal interest in building up a ‘proud’ Russian navy (as reflectedin his Navy Day speech in July 2000 and several statements after the Kurskdisaster),30 but his promises to give more attention to naval problems andallocate more funds to their solution would most probably amount only topolishing the decks of several flagships and would have no impact on theincreasing probability of technological catastrophes.

Another aspect of the nuclear problem is related to the human factor.Underfinancing and the cumulative lack of skilled personnel and shortageof drafted sailors (while the army annually receives with the draft only one-half the number of recruits they need, the navy receives even less) areeroding discipline and morale in the navy. Examples of inadequate reactionin tense situations and irrational behaviour in the barracks are plentiful andthe statistics of suicides are more than just worrisome. This depressingatmosphere in the combat units increases the probability of nuclear-relatedaccidents, particularly since the Russian nuclear forces have no funds tomodernize the old launch-upon-warning system (now partly blind anddeaf due to poor radar coverage and the decline of the satellite fleet) withits many technically outdated control mechanisms.31 Low morale and poortraining of crews also increase the probability of violations of safetyregulations and mistakes in handling minor technical accidents, whichcould lead to their aggravation, as quite possibly was the case with theKursk.

Given this picture of a rusting, undermanned and chronically depressedfleet, it may be worth while to recall the history of mutinies in the Russiannavy in the early twentieth century. This history includes mutinies onbattleships (Potemkin and Ochakov, both in 1905, Pamyat’ Azova in 1906),which were all old and due to be scrapped, and in naval bases (Sveaborg in1906 and Kronshtadt in 1905, 1906 and 1921), which were particularlybadly maintained, besides the ‘heroic’ pages on the role of the Baltic Fleetin the revolutions of 1917.32 Remarkably, in all these cases it was bad food,


poor conditions and officers’ attempts to enforce discipline rather than anyrevolutionary propaganda that were the main driving force behind theviolent uprisings. The military authorities faced serious difficulties insuppressing those uprisings owing to widespread sympathy for the rebelsamong the rank and file as well as among the civilian population onshore.

Reflections on this history do not necessarily lead to predictions ofmutinies in Gremikha or Gadzhievo, but the present situation in theRussian navy is coming alarmingly close to the explosive days of 1905 and1906. One important factor that is lacking is a humiliating naval defeatsuch as that suffered in the Russo-Japanese war of 1904–05;33 on the otherhand, the marines of the Northern Fleet have been involved in some of thebloodiest combat operations of the Chechen wars. But what makes therisks of naval mutinies so much more dangerous today is the fact thatnuclear facilities and weapons would inevitably become involved, whichwould guarantee a resonance far greater than that of Potemkin.

Taking into consideration the obvious lack of combat-capable andsufficiently reliable Russian units in the Leningrad military district and thevery difficult access to many naval facilities from the land, NATO has togive serious consideration to scenarios where a limited military interventionmight become necessary in order to secure certain nuclear assets. Suchplanning could benefit from the history of the British operation inArkhangelsk and Murmansk in 1918–19.34

CONCLUSIONS

The north-western direction where Russia has an interface with the Nordic—Baltic region presents a unique combination of opportunities andchallenges. President Putin does not seem particularly keen to grasp theopportunities, which involve mostly regional and local interactionssupported and coordinated by the EU. At the same time, the Russianleadership is certainly paying insufficient attention to the challengespresented by deteriorating infrastructure and rusting military hardware andremains reluctant to develop international cooperation aimed at reducingthe nuclear risks. The fallout from the second Chechen war continues toreduce the scale and dynamism of many cooperative projects, narrowingRussia’s ‘window to Europe’ to a mere peep-hole. It is in the north-westthat Russia has its greatest opportunities to confirm and reinforce itsEuropean identity, but it also remains perfectly capable of cutting itself offand continuing to slide down in what looks like a spiral of self-destruction.


NOTES

1. The Kursk tragedy in August 2000 drew much international attention to theprolonged decay of the Northern Fleet and to the risks generated by theneglect of this process.

2. Chapters by Pertti Joenniemi and Carl-Einar Stalvant in Andrew Cottey (ed.),Subregional Cooperation in the New Europe (London, 1999), provide a goodoverview. Renata Dwan (ed.) Subregional Cooperation in and around theCIS Space (New York, 2000), in the same series by the EastWest Institute,contains several chapters focused on related problems.

3. On the beginning of the Barents cooperation, see Olav Schram Stokke andOla Tunander (eds), The Barents Region (London, 1994).

4. Several research projects in Moscow at that time explored the opportunitiesin this direction. See Dmitri Trenin, The Baltic Chance, Report of theCarnegie Moscow Center, November 1997; Rossiia i Pribaltika, Report ofthe Council on Foreign and Defence Policy, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 28 October1997. I have argued about the chances for a breakthrough in ‘Bear hug for theBaltic’, The World Today, March 1998, pp. 78–9.

5. See Geir Flikke (ed.), The Barents Region Revisited, Conference Proceedings(Oslo, 1999).

6. I had an opportunity to participate in the inaugural conference The NorthernDimension of the CFSP’, organized by the Finnish Institute of InternationalAffairs (UPI) in Helsinki, 7–8 November 1997. This institute produced auseful series of papers and monographs in 1998 and 1999.

7. See Jakob Hedenskog, The Foreign Relations of Russia’s Western Regions’,paper presented at the 5th Annual Convention of the Association for theStudy of Nationalities (ASN), New York, 13–15 April 2000.

8. Arkady Moshes, Overcoming Unfriendly Stability: Russian—LatvianRelations at the End of the 1990s, Report for the Northern DimensionProgramme (Helsinki, 1999).

9. For instance, in 1999 over 750,000 people crossed the Russian-Finnish borderat the 17 border points in Karelia, a number almost equal to the size of theentire population of that republic. See Oleg Reut, ‘Republic of Karelia: ADouble Asymmetry or North-Eastern Dimensionalism’, Copenhagen PeaceResearch Institute Working Papers, no. 13, 2000, p. 17. An example ofexternal aid is Finland’s investment in the modernization of St Petersburg’ssewage system, which dumps about 1 million cubic metres of untreatedsewage into the Gulf of Finland. See the St Petersburg Committee of ExternalRelations website (www.kvs.spb.ru). Another example is internationalassistance in the struggle against the AIDS epidemic in Kaliningrad. SeeMichael Specter, The Heart of Plague’, International Herald Tribune, 5November 1997.

10. See Ingmar Oldberg, ‘Kaliningrad: Problems and Perspectives’, in PerttiJoenniemi (ed.), Kaliningrad: The European Amber Region (London, 1998);Lyndelle Fairlie, The EU’s Northern Dimension and Kaliningrad, ReportG78, Conflict Studies Research Centre, Sandhurst, 1999.


11. See Jakob Hedenskog, Between Autonomy and Central Government: StPetersburg and Its Relations to the Federal Powers, FOA Report (Stockholm,1999).

12. A good estimate of the scale of the resources necessary for implementing theStability Pact for south-eastern Europe has emerged from the RegionalFunding Conference, held in Brussels on 29–30 March 2000. Only the QuickStart Package was evaluated, at 2.4 billion. See the interview with BodoHombach in European Security: OSCE Review, no. 1, 2000.

13. See David Yost, NATO Transformed (Washington, DC, 1998), particularlypp. 138–9 and 164–6. For an earlier analysis, see Ronald Asmus and RobertNurick, ‘NATO Enlargement and the Baltic States’, Survival, Summer 1996,pp. 121–42.

14. See A.A.Sergunin, ‘Russian Debates on NATO Enlargement’, inA.S.Makarychev (ed.), Rossiia, NATO i novaia arkhitektura bezopasnosti vEvrope (Nizhnyi Novgorod, 1998). A more recent example is Rossiia iPribaltika II, Report of the Foreign and Defence Policy Council, 1999.

15. For an acute analysis see Karl-Heinz Kemp, The NATO-Russia FoundingAct: Trojan Horse or Milestone of Reconciliation?’, Aussenpolitik, 4, 1997,pp. 315–34. One has to see whether the new partnership in NATO, offeredto the Russians, though still as secondary citizens in the wake of 11September 2001, might indeed bring to an end the thorny debate over NATO’sextension and with it a final conclusion of the Cold War.

16. See Dmitri Trenin and Ekaterina Stepanova (eds), Kosovo: InternationalAspects of the Crisis (Moscow, 1999).

17. The presentation of Vladimir Baranovskii at the conference The New WorldOrder: Russian between East and West’, Tel Aviv University, 3–5 April 2000,was convincing in this respect.

18. The National Security Concept was approved by a presidential decree on 10January 2000, and its draft was approved by the Security Council on 5October 1999; see ‘Kontseptsiia natsional’noi bezopasnosti RossiiskoiFederatsii’, Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, no. 1, 14–20 January 2000. Thenew Military Doctrine was approved by a presidential decree on 21 April2000; see ‘Voennaia doktrina Rossiiskoi Federatsii’, ibid., no. 15, 28 April–11 May 2000.

19. See Roland Dannreuther, ‘Escaping the Enlargement Trap in NATO-RussiaRelations’, Survival, Winter 1999/2000, pp. 145–64.

20. See Peter van Ham, ‘Europe’s Common Defense Policy: Implications for theTrans-Atlantic Relationship’, Security Dialogue, June 2000, pp. 215–28.

21. A good example is the strong statement about the possibility of a Russianmilitary attack against the Baltic States, which ‘by implication will be anattack on NATO’, by Latvian President Vike-Freiberga on 30 April 2000. SeeRFE/RL Newsline, 3 May 2000.

22. I have speculated on Putin’s political style in ‘Putin’s Honeymoon Coming tothe End’, Johnson’s Russia List, no. 4114, 17 February 2000.

23. I have argued this in ‘Boris Woos the Baltics, but Are the Russians for Real?’,Jane’s Intelligence Review, March 1998, pp. 9–12.

24. For a solid analysis see Jacob W. Kipp, ‘Russia’s Northwestern StrategicDirection’, Military Review, July–August 1999, pp. 52–65.


25. See Anders Kjølberg, The Barents Region as a European Security-buildingConcept’, in Olav Schram Stokke and Ola Tunander (eds), The BarentsRegion (London, 1994), pp. 187–200.

26. While the efficient help from Norway and the UK in the Kursk rescueoperation could help to reduce prejudices against NATO, the fact of closemonitoring by British and American submarines of the Northern Fleetexercises reflects Cold War stereotypes. See Mikhail Hodarenok, ‘Samaiastrashnaia katastrofa Otechestvennogo Flota’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 22August 2000.

27. The report The Russian Northern Fleet: Sources of RadioactiveContamination (1996), prepared by Tomas Nielsen, Igor Kudrik andAleksandr Nikitin for a project conducted by the Bellona Foundation, remainsthe most informative source on this problem. Aleksandr Nikitin was arrestedby the FSB (Federal Security Service) on espionage charges soon after therelease of this report and acquitted by Russia’s Supreme Court only in April2000. One new target for accusations of nuclear-related espionage is IgorSutiagin, a researcher from ISKAN (USA and Canada Institute), arrested bythe FSB in October 1999.

28. See Ingmar Oldberg (ed.), The Russian Navy Facing the 21st Century,Conference Proceedings (Stockholm, 1996).

29. For a competent estimate, see Mark Galeotti, ‘Costs of the Chechen War’,Jane’s Intelligence Review, January 2000, pp. 14–19.

30. See Aleksandr Gol’ts, ‘Kuda zh nam plyt’,’ Itogi, no. 35, 28 August 2000.31. On that topic, see Deborah Y.Ball, The Security of Russia’s Nuclear Arsenal:

The Human Factor’, PONARS Memo no. 92, October 1999, HarvardUniversity.

32. A reliable English-language source is Evan Mawdsley, The RussianRevolution and the Baltic Fleet (London, 1978). Adam Ulam’s Russia’sFailed Revolutions (New York, 1981) remains the standard reference.

33. The Kursk disaster was in fact directly compared to the catastrophic defeatof the Russian navy at Tsushima in 1905. See William Pfaff, ‘Humiliation inRussia: A Force for Renewal or Collapse?’, International Herald Tribune, 28August 2000.

34. See Benjamin D.Rhodes, The Anglo-American Winter War with Russia,1918–1919 (Westport, CT, 1988).


10Northern Europe: A New Web of

Relations1

INGMAR OLDBERG

Historically, it was in the north that Russia and (western) Europe met mostdirectly. Many wars were fought there and competition over the commandof the Baltic Sea was fierce, but there was also much trade and friendlyexchange.2 This was also the case after the Second World War. Comparedwith other regions, the Soviet Union considered this a relatively quiet one.

Northern Europe traditionally includes the five Nordic states: non-alliedFinland and Sweden, and the NATO states Norway, Denmark and Iceland.These states together form the Nordic Council. When the Soviet Union fellapart in 1991, the region was enlarged by the three Baltic states of Estonia,Latvia and Lithuania, which became observers in the Nordic Council. Allthese countries except Iceland are also situated on the Baltic Sea.

This chapter examines briefly whether Russia’s relations with thecountries of this region are developing towards conflict or cooperation.3

This task is approached by analysing the Russian military-strategic,political and economic priorities as they have evolved in the 1990s. As willbe seen, these priorities are closely interrelated.

MILITARY-STRATEGIC INTERESTS AND NATOENLARGEMENT

It can be claimed that the military-strategic importance of the Baltic Searegion to Russia increased as Russia lost its positions in central Europe,Poland and Ukraine around 1990, and these states turned westwardsinstead. The West crept closer, as it were. Moreover, the strategicimportance of the Kola Peninsula grew as a result of the STARTagreements with the USA concerning the reduction of land-based nuclearforces. The strongest Russian fleet with most nuclear submarines and otherstrategic assets were based in the Kola region and it became vital to securethese for deterrence.4

Despite or because of these strategic interests, Russia in the early 1990sgave priority to détente and disarmament in the Nordic region. FollowingSwedish reports throughout the 1980s about submarine incursions, whichplaced the blame on Russia, Russia agreed to a joint investigation and

could relish later reports to the effect that many incidents could have beeneither mistaken or caused by NATO.5 When, in 1991, Finland abrogatedthe friendship and mutual assistance treaty of 1948 with the Soviet Union,Russia agreed instead to sign a cooperation agreement without securitycommitments. Russia recognized the Baltic states and gradually pulled outits troops, a process that was completed (with minor exceptions) in August1994. Russia started to participate in NATO exercises in the Baltic Seatogether with the Baltic and Nordic states, and the exchange of militaryvisits with the Nordic states was intensified. In 1997, President Yeltsinannounced a unilateral initiative to reduce troops in north-west Russia by40 per cent, and this was accomplished in 1998. The north-western flankof Russia was officially declared to be the most secure.6 It should be noted,however, that this Russian disarmament was carried out not only forfriendship’s sake but also for financial reasons and that some forces weremore needed in the south for the Chechen war.

Furthermore, these Russian steps towards retreat and conciliation wereaccompanied by more assertive ones, which met opposition in northernEurope. When NATO decided to enlarge and the Baltic states applied tojoin, hindering this development became the most important Russianobjective in this region. The possibility of NATO bases in the Baltics, fromwhere Russia had recently withdrawn, was seen as a major threat to theRussian heartland. Moreover, if Lithuania were to follow Poland intoNATO, Kaliningrad would be surrounded by NATO states.7 To this end,Russia applied all kinds of pressure on the Baltic states—from militarythreats to economic sanctions (see below)—but this served only to reinforcethe Baltic states in their resolve to join NATO.

As alternative solutions, Russia offered unilateral security guarantees andseveral confidence-building measures to the Baltic states, or even doubleguarantees together with NATO. Russia was willing to accept the Balticstates’ joining the EU instead of NATO. It further proposed a regional zoneof stability and confidence, which would include the Baltic states, Swedenand Finland, and the old Soviet idea of a nuclear-weapons-free zone, nowstretching from the Black Sea to the Baltic, was dusted off. Another ideawas a joint air surveillance system for all Baltic littoral states.8 Aprominent Russian ex-diplomat thought that such a system could be basedon Gotland or the Åland Islands.9 These ideas were actively propagated byRussian officials in the Nordic states. Thus Yeltsin used his first officialvisit to Sweden in 1997 to launch the idea of the 40 per cent troopreduction. The neutrality policies of Sweden and Finland were praised andheld up as models for the Baltic states.10 In the face of the growing NATOpresence Russia was little concerned with Swedish and Finnish military aidto the Baltic States.11

However, these alternative proposals were rebuffed not only by theBaltic States but by the Nordic states as well: a response that the

NORTHERN EUROPE: A NEW WEB OF RELATIONS 105

disappointed Russians attributed to NATO pressure. Russia also criticizedsigns that Sweden and Finland were diverging from their policy ofneutrality, for example when right-wing political parties and individualsadvocated NATO membership. Russia was displeased by Finland’spurchase from the USA of 64 F-18s for its air force in the mid-1990s.12

Sweden was repeatedly accused of spying on Russia, allegedly even actingon NATO’s orders.13 Russia was gratified by Swedish willingness to have abilateral naval exercise with Russia in 2000, but was disappointed when itwas postponed owing to the Chechen war.14

Concerning the NATO members Norway and Denmark, Russiaappreciated the restrictions they had imposed on NATO bases andexercises during the Cold War, which now could be used as a model forPoland. But Denmark was upbraided for supporting Baltic membership inNATO and participating in the new NATO staff headquarters at theGerman-Polish border town of Szczecin.15 Norway was reprimanded forpermitting NATO exercises with NATO units further north than before.Russia was also concerned about the demilitarized status of Spitzbergenand engaged in spying activities in Norway.16 Currently, the worst irritantis the construction of a large space radar station at Vardö, 60 kilometresfrom the Russian border, which is seen as being directed against Russia inthe context of US plans to build an anti-ballistic missile defence system inviolation of the 1972 treaty.17

NATO’s Kosovo operation and Russia’s second war in Chechnya in1999 separated the Nordic and Baltic states from Russia even more. Thesestates supported NATO’s military efforts to stop Serb repression andcondemned the Russian methods of suppressing the Chechen separatists,whereas Russia adopted the opposite position, giving priority to territorialintegrity over human rights. The good news for Russia in the currentsituation is that NATO is preoccupied in the unruly Balkans, whichprobably makes enlargement in the quiet Baltic region less urgent. Thegood news for the Baltic states is that Russia is bogged down in theCaucasus. Thus, even if the security situation in the north remains stablecompared with other regions, Russia perceives new threats, especially withregard to the Baltic States. NATO’s enlargement and new missions as wellas Russia’s war in Chechnya have clearly impaired its relations with itsNordic neighbours.

POLITICAL INTERESTS

Russia’s interest in military security on its north-western flank was closelylinked to its political interests and ambitions. First was the need to gainrecognition for its borders in the region. As before, there were noterritorial claims from Norway, but the question of the delimitation of theeconomic zone in the Barents Sea and around Spitzbergen remained


disputed and unresolved despite improved relations.18 Nor did Finlandpresent official claims to territory that it had lost during the Second WorldWar, even though there were small groups in Finland who raised this issue,especially when the Soviet Union disintegrated. Russia paid much attentionto these voices, but duly appreciated the official Finnish view—so much sothat a former diplomat suggested that Russia could lease Pechenga on theArctic Sea to Finland.19

More problems arose with the new Baltic states. In negotiations withRussia about border treaties, Estonia and Latvia did at first lay claims toRussian regions as they based their legitimacy on continuity with the statesthat had existed between the world wars and rejected Stalin’s occupationand border changes during the Second World War. But around 1996 theygave up these demands because they received no support in the West andtheir primary goal was to join NATO and the EU, which would not admitstates with unresolved border questions. Instead, Russia started to refuse tosign the border treaties as a means of keeping the states out of NATO,which was a primary objective for Russia.

With regard to Lithuania, some nationalists there indeed wanted toincorporate Kaliningrad, but all consecutive governments renounced suchclaims against Russia. In 1997, a border treaty was signed with Russia, andit was ratified by the Lithuanian parliament in 1999. Instead, Russiannationalists made claims to the Klaipeda region, which Stalin hadtransferred to Soviet Lithuania in 1945, and the Duma (at least the oneelected until 2000) refused to ratify the border treaty, partly in order tokeep Lithuania out of NATO and partly as a means of gaining freer transitto Kaliningrad.20

Another political goal for Russia was to support the Russian-speakingminorities in the new Baltic states, especially in Estonia and Latvia, where,according to the Russians, human rights were being violated.21 It waspointed out that hundreds of thousands of persons (290,000 in Estonia,650,000 in Latvia in 1999) had not received citizenship and were thereforedeprived of political and economic rights, and that the Russian languagewas being suppressed. Concern for human rights in Estonia and Latvia waspopular among Russian nationalists who dominated the Duma until late1999, and it served to exert political pressure on the Estonian and Latviangovernments. Specifically, the resolution of ethnic disputes was also acondition for NATO membership. Moreover, the campaign against Latviasince 1999 could serve as a riposte to Western objections over Russianviolations of human rights in Chechnya.

Russia employed a wide variety of methods to support its compatriots inEstonia and Latvia: military threats, refusal to sign border agreements,economic reprisals, and so forth. However, some Russian officials realizedthat these methods were counterproductive, since they deterred Estonia andLatvia from liberalizing their citizenship and language laws and drew


criticism against Russia in the West.22 The Baltic Russians patently preferto remain in their homes rather than to move to Russia; while Russia,which lacks the financial resources either to take in the Baltic Russians orto support them in their states, in fact wants them to stay and be integratedthere.

Thus Russia has also used the indirect method of making appeals to theUN, the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, the EU andnot least the Nordic states to put pressure on the Baltics. This is why theCouncil of Baltic Sea States has a special mandate for minority questions.Western and Nordic concern has probably been more instrumental inpromoting liberalization of the Baltic laws than Russian pressure. TheNordic states have helped these Russians and promoted their integrationmore than Russia has, a fact that informed Russians are willing to admit.23

A third Russian objective since 1991 has been to gain recognition as ademocratic state and to participate in the integration processes in Europe,thereby promoting Russia’s well-being and internal stability. The fiveNordic states, which had conducted a rather cautious and friendly policytowards the Soviet Union, were seen as instrumental in this regard, eventhough they had supported the Baltic states’ fight for independence.

In 1993, Russia co-founded the Barents Euro-Arctic Council (BEAC)with its Nordic neighbours in order to encourage cross-border cooperationbetween the regions in the Far North, as well as the Council of Baltic SeaStates (CBSS) including the three Baltic states. Political contacts improvedon all levels, and the number of official visits multiplied. President Yeltsinfor example paid official visits to Sweden and Norway, and the royalfamilies of these states made trips to Russia. Russian (and Baltic) townsdeveloped relations with twins in the Nordic states. Visa procedures weresimplified and border crossings were opened with both the Nordic andBaltic neighbours. Russia and Lithuania agreed on visa-free travel forKaliningraders and Lithuanians.24

In sum, Russian political ambitions in the Baltic—Nordic area have beenrather ambiguous, wavering between pressure and great-power politics,mainly with respect to the small Baltic nations, on the one hand, and thedesire to be integrated and efforts to foster stability, on the other.

ECONOMIC INTERESTS IN THE EU CONTEXT

Russia’s transition from a militarized state to a market economy with agrowing emphasis on economic development boosted its interest in tradewith the West, especially Europe, including the Nordic states. Foreign tradewas liberalized and most of it gradually shifted from CIS states towardswestern Europe, which could pay world market prices for Russianproducts and sell high technology to Russia. Russia thus signed its ownpartnership agreement with the EU and did not oppose Sweden’s and


Finland’s joining the Union in 1995. As for Finland, Russia’s main tradingpartner in northern Europe, trade exchange in 1997 returned to the levelsof the late 1980s after the intervening decline.25 In particular, Russian timberexports increased considerably, and 40 per cent of Russian road transportswent through Finland. Russia appreciated the Finnish EU chairmanship inthe second half of 1999, when Finland promoted the Northern Dimensionprogramme, a major goal of which was to develop ties with Russia and tosupport the development of its democracy and market economy.26

When visiting Stockholm in 1997, President Yeltsin suggested building agas pipeline to Sweden and called for investment in Russia. Russia also hadhigh expectations of Sweden’s presidency of the EU in 2001. A governmentnewspaper thus asserted that Sweden’s membership in the EU had severalcaveats which enabled it to conduct an independent economic policy and towithstand anti-Russian sanctions. It also argued that Sweden had problemsin selling its products in the eurozone since it was not an EMU (EuropeanMonetary Union) member. The Swedish government did not exclude thepossibility of a Swedish-Russian free-trade zone, which other states in theregion could join later. Russian exports to Sweden grew, especially ofmanufactured goods, as did Swedish exports to Russia. According to thispaper, Sweden was the sixth largest investor in Russia, ahead of, forexample, France and Japan.27 The opening of an IKEA furniture store inMoscow earlier this year was given wide publicity.28

Russia also developed strong common interests with the non-EU memberNorway (and OPEC, the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries)on maintaining high oil and gas prices, which are vital for the Russian statebudget balance—in opposition to other states led by the USA, which wantto lower the prices.29 The Russian Arctic fishing fleet also made profitsfrom landing catches in Norway and Iceland.

Finland, Norway and Sweden have proved willing to provideenvironmental aid and investments in north-western Russia, since theyare directly affected by industrial pollution and risks of accidents in activeor decommissioned nuclear submarines and surface ships in the Arctic Seaas well as in nuclear reactors on the Kola Peninsula and near St Petersburg.This initiative received support from the EU and other Europeaninstitutions and—concerning nuclear disarmament—the USA. According tothe Russian researcher Alexander Sergounin, the Russian oblasts ofMurmansk, Karelia, Leningrad and Kaliningrad have become moredependent on their western neighbours than, for example, on Moscow.30

Nonetheless, the volume of trade seldom reached the levels of Soviettimes and was relatively small for the Nordic States. Russian trade made upless than 1 per cent of Swedish foreign trade, less than Swedish trade with,for example, Poland, and the Russian share even in Finnish foreign tradewas only about 6.5 per cent. Danish, Norwegian and Icelandic trade withRussia was even less. Thus it is naive to believe that Sweden, for example,


would risk its position in the EU because of dependence on Russian trade.Both states are bound to fall into line with the EU Schengen agreement onimposing stricter external border controls. Thus Finland has restricted visaexemptions for short-term Russian tourists, which Russia has reciprocated,and imposed EU environmental rules on Russian road freight. Indeed,Russia is painfully aware of the problems of remaining outside theexpanding European market.

Furthermore, Western investment in Russia was hampered by Russia’sbad infrastructure, its contradictory, restrictive and ever-changinglegislation, corruption and crime, political instability and recurrenteconomic crises. The ruble crash in August 1998 was a heavy blow to thebanking system and led to a sharp reduction in Russian imports. Withregard to fishing, there were disputes with Norway and Iceland not onlyover economic zones but also over quotas and the size of net meshes.31

Norway tended to follow OPEC in raising oil exports to curb prices.32

Concerning environmental aid, Russians officials could complain thatmost of the money is spent on expensive Western (Nordic) consultants,while Western experts disliked the blackmail that Russia could go onpolluting until it received aid. Moreover, Russia has little money to spendon the environment, which is not seen as the most urgent problem. Besides,environmental projects pay off only after a long time, and nuclear wastedisposal will probably never become commercial.33 Russian militaryinterests also entail reluctance to grant access and provide data toWesterners. One symptom of this was the repeated espionage trials againstthe ex-naval officer Vladimir Nikitin, who had provided Norwegianenvironmentalists with information about the Northern Fleet.34

Another problem was that Russian exports were dominated by rawmaterials—in the above cases, fish and timber. The industriesprocessing these raw materials were left almost empty-handed and paidmuch less in taxes to the state. Thus, in December 1999, Prime MinisterVladimir Putin increased timber export tariffs threefold, which led toprotests in Karelia, and promised more state control in the economy andfederal control over the regions.

Consequently, Russia’s relations with the EU and the Nordic states areburdened by many problems on both sides. Nevertheless, since 1999,industrial production and trade with the West have recovered, at least fromthe August 1998 crisis, and the election of Putin as president may bring morestability and predictability. This may actually bring more Nordic (Western)trade and investments to Russia, even if other partners are still preferred.

Turning now to the three small Baltic states, Russian economic intereststhere were naturally quite different. Thanks to their roads, railways,pipelines and ports, these states were particularly important for the transitof the growing Russian exports to the West, on which Russia became sodependent. The Latvian port of Ventspils thus at times handled 20–30 per


cent of Russia’s total oil exports. Russia was also interested in maintainingits economic positions in the Baltic states, particularly in the energy andraw material sectors, and its big business made investments in the rapidlydeveloping Baltic market economies, often in cooperation with localRussians.35

However, as noted above, Russia, convinced of the Baltic states’dependence on it, often resorted to politically motivated economic sanctionsagainst them. Owing mainly to its citizenship policy, Estonia, which is thefastest developing of these states, has so far not been granted most-favoured-nation status and pays double customs dues. The Duma decidedto impose sanctions on Latvia on account of its discrimination against theRussians, though the newly elected Duma in 2000 rejected this policy,preferring a strong statement of protest instead.36 In order to escape‘exorbitant’ Baltic transit fees, Russia has further decided to build newports in the Gulf of Finland for oil, gas and metal exports.

The problem with such sanctions, however, was that they undermined theprinciple of free trade and hurt Russian private companies and their BalticRussian partners. The construction of new ports both costs a lot of scarceinvestment money and takes a long time. Russian economic pressure alsoreinforced the desire of the Baltic countries to reorient their trade towardsthe West (to which in any case they wanted to belong), and the West wasforthcoming. Amazing results were achieved. Estonian trade with Russiadecreased from above 90 per cent of the total in 1991 to below 20 per centin 1993, with Sweden and Finland taking over the role of first partners. InLatvia and Lithuania, imports from Russia accounted for only 10 and 20per cent respectively in 1999 (data based on nine months); instead most oftheir trade was directed towards Germany and western EU states.37

As mentioned above, Russia has accepted EU membership for the Balticstates as an alternative to NATO membership, partly for military andpolitical reasons, partly because Russian business could thereby gaingreater access to the EU market. But lately, as the Baltic membershipnegotiations are advancing, Russia has begun to point out problems anddemand consultations. Russian criticism of Baltic border claims and ethnicdiscrimination also serves to complicate the states’ EU accession. And if theBaltic countries become members, it will be harder for Russia to applyeconomic pressure on them without antagonizing other Union members.

Finally, Russia was concerned about the Kaliningrad exclave and itstransit across Lithuania. Customs and transport costs made goods fromRussia proper about 50 per cent more expensive in that region. Kaliningradwas compensated by being declared a special economic zone in 1996 withfree import and export with its neighbours. The problem was thatKaliningrad became heavily dependent on imports of foodstuffs, especiallyfrom Lithuania and Poland, which spelled crisis when the August 1998ruble crash occurred. Furthermore, since the zone was used as a loophole


for imports from the West to the rest of Russia, and Kaliningrad’sgovernor Leonid Gorbenko wanted to protect local producers, the customsfreedom was undermined by quotas, which resulted in price hikes.

This problem is aggravated by the EU enlargement process, specificallythe enforcement of the Schengen rules on stricter external border controls,which tends to increase the isolation of the Kaliningrad exclave. In January1998, Poland reintroduced visas for Kaliningrad so as to prepare for EUmembership, even if the costs of the visas were later reduced after Russianprotests.38 Lithuania, on which Kaliningrad is most dependent, willcertainly also adapt to the Schengen rules when it becomes an EU member,but it has declared that it will not impose restrictions before then, asPoland did, and will try to help Kaliningrad obtain special favours from theEU.39 The EU is engaged in technical assistance projects in the region, andSweden vowed to address the problem when it took over the EUpresidency. This was duly noted in Russia, which, however, interpreted thispromise as a sign that Sweden is against isolating Kaliningrad from the restof Russia.40

Thus, Russia’s interest in economic relations with northern Europebecame more pronounced than before, its attitude to the EU and its easternenlargement was positive, and new promising projects emerged. However,this interest was still crippled by systemic problems in Russia and militaryand political considerations. The latter was especially the case with regardto the small Baltic states which had so recently been part of the SovietUnion.

CONCLUSIONS

As the Baltic states became integrated with the Nordic states in the 1990s,while at the same time drawing closer to Europe in military, political andeconomic respects, Russia’s relations with them were increasinglyinfluenced by wider concerns. However, Russia’s foreign policy in thisdirection (and others) was also dictated by its domestic scene and thepriorities of the main actors on it. The Baltic states played an inordinaterole for their size, both because of their location, close to the West and theRussian heartland, and because of their recent past as Soviet republics.

Russia’s relations with the Nordic states, which had formerly been fairlystable and quiet, were thus strongly affected by developments in the Balticstates and the Nordic attitude to them. In the Nordic states, the Balticstates’ efforts to join the West in the form of NATO and the EU were seenas legitimate and welcome, and Russian policy towards them wasconsidered a litmus test of whether Russia was heading for cooperation,democracy and market orientation or confrontation, authoritarianism andstate control. Russia still viewed the Baltic countries as belonging to itssphere of influence, outside the CIS, yet not qualifying for NATO


membership. In the 1990s, Russian military and political interests prevailedover economic concerns, even if the latter received added weight. Russiacontinued to show a penchant for exerting pressure wherever it perceivedsigns of weakness and for making links between military and political issues—policies that were rather counterproductive and detrimental to Russia’sown best interests in the region.

It remains to be seen whether President Putin will rely more on his past asa security agent or on his economic experience from St Petersburg when itcomes to developing the future policy towards the Nordic/Baltic area.

NOTES

1. The finalization of this chapter has profited from a research grant at theKennan Institute of the Woodrow Wilson Center, Washington, DC, in April2000.

2. Dmitri Trenin, ‘Security Cooperation in North-eastern Europe: A RussianPerspective’, in Dmitri Trenin and Peter van Ham (eds), Russia and theUnited States in Northern European Security (Helsinki and Bonn, 2000), pp.16ff.

3. For a similar approach, see Lena Jonson, ‘Russian Policy in NorthernEurope’, in Vladimir Baranovsky (ed.), Russia and Europe: The EmergingSecurity Agenda (Oxford, 1997).

4. See also Alexander A. Sergounin, ‘In Search of a New Strategy in the Baltic/Nordic Area’, in Baranovsky (ed.), Russia and Europe, pp. 325ff.

5. Petr Cherniakov, ‘Shvedy gonialis’ ne za temi podlodkami’, Nezavisimaiagazeta, 15 March 2000. The joint investigation could not agree whichcountry was behind the incursions.

6. Trenin, ‘Security Cooperation in North-eastern Europe’, p. 29.7. NATO decided to admit Poland in July 1997, a decision that took effect in

March 1999.8. See Ingmar Oldberg, ‘No Love Is Lost—Russia’s Relations with the Baltic

States’, in Gunnar Artéus and Atis Lejins (eds), Baltic Security: LookingTowards the 21st Century (Riga, 1998), pp. 152 ff; Ingmar Oldberg, ‘Russiaand its Western Neighbours in the Context of NATO Enlargement’, inIngmar Oldberg (ed.), At a Loss: Russian Foreign Policy in the 1990s(Stockholm, 1999), pp. 34ff; Arkady Moshes, The Baltic Sea Dimension inthe Relations between Russia and Europe (Stockholm, 1999), FOA R 99–01055–180–SE, pp. 16ff; J.L.Black, Russia Faces NATO Expansion (Oxford,2000), pp. 202 ff.

9. Iurii Deriabin, ‘Mery doveriia na Severe Evropy’, in EU and Russia: TheNorthern Dimension, Conference Proceedings, Carnegie Moscow Center, 1–2 October 1999, p. 3.

10. BBC Monitoring Service, Summary of World Broadcasts: Former SovietUnion (hereafter SWB), SU/3088 E/1, 28 November 1997; Petr Cherniakov,‘Novyi etap otnoshenii Moskvy i Khel’sinki’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 20 April2000. A government paper recently claimed (erroneously) that Sweden is


permanently neutral and opposes NATO eastern enlargement: AlekseiChichkin, ‘Shvedskii biznes “v politiku” ne igraet’, Rossiiskaia gazeta, 15April 2000.

11. Pik Paip and Viktor Sokolov, ‘Pribalty otkazali Rossii’, Nezavisimaia gazeta,12 November 1997.

12. Jan-Anders Ekström, ‘Jeltsin Avvisar Finländskt Medlemskap’, SvenskaDagbladet, 17 March 1997; Cherniakov, ‘Novyi etap otnoshenii Moskvy iKhel’sinki’.

13. Sergei Gorlenko, ‘Chto ishchut shvedy v Iantarnom Kraiu?, Rossiiskaiagazeta, 2 March 2000.

14. Vladimir Ermolin, ‘Odinochnoe plavanie Baltflota’, Izvestya, 5 April 2000. Asa kind of compensation, Sweden invited the Russian navy to a ceremony overa Soviet submarine which had sunk in Swedish waters during the war, andRussia gratefully accepted (Itar-Tass, 22 May 2000).

15. Marat Zubko, ‘Datsko-norvezhskaia model’ dlia novykh chlenov NATO?’Izvestya, 27 February 1997; ‘Rossiia-Daniia’, Diplomaticheskii vestnik, no.2, 1999, p. 35.

16. ‘Rossiia-Norvegiia’, Diplomaticheskii vestnik, no. 4, 1999, p. 34; Centre forRussian Studies Database, Norwegian Institute of International Affairs,www.nupi.no/cgiwin/Russland, ‘Norway Fears Russia, Sweden Does Not’, 12July 1995, ‘Norway Expels Russian Diplomats’, 12 March 1998.

17. Anatolii Diakov and Teodor Postol, ‘Protivoraketnyi front na SevereNorvegii’, Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, no. 7, 25 February–2 March2000; Moscow Times, 20 March 2000.

18. Andrei Farutin, ‘Chto nam delat’ so Shpitsbergenom?’, Nezavisimaia gazeta,27 November 1998.

19. Vladimir Fedorov, ‘Karel’skii sindrom’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 30 May 1996;Cherniakov, ‘Novyi etap otnoshenii Moskvy i Khel’sinki’; Sergounin, ‘InSearch of a New Strategy in the Baltic/Nordic Area’, pp. 343ff.

20. Oldberg, ‘Russia and its Western Neighbours in the Context of NATOEnlargement’, pp. 38, 41ff.

21. Since the Nordic states have no Russian minorities, the Russian press hasinstead accused Norway of oppressing its Saami population. Petr Cherniakov,‘Oslo ugnetaet Saamov’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 16 March 2000.

22. For a Swedish reaction, see Elisabeth Crona, ‘Lindh kritiserar Ryssland’,Dagens Nyheter, 18 May 2000.

23. Oldberg, ‘No Love Is Lost’, 158 ff; Sovet po vneshnei i oboronnoi politike,‘Rossiia i Pribaltika-II’, Nezavisimaia gazeta—Stsenarii, no. 9, 13 October1999; Dmitri Trenin, Baltic Chance (Moscow, 1997).

24. Moshes, The Baltic Sea Dimension in the Relations between Russia andEurope, pp. 11ff.

25. Ibid., p. 6; Stefan Lundberg, ‘Ryssar får Finland att Blomma’, DagensNyheter, 9 June 1998.

26. Cherniakov, ‘Novyi etap otnoshenii Moskvy i Khel’sinki’, Nezavisimaiagazeta, 20 April 2000.

27. Aleksei Baliev, ‘Briussel’ Stokgol’mu ne ukaz’, Rossiiskaia gazeta, 1 April2000; Chichkin, ‘Shvedskii biznes ‘v politiku’ ne igraet’, Rossiiskaia gazeta,15 April 2000.


28. Elena Vansovich and Evgenii Leonov, ‘Otsel’ grozit’ my budem shvedu’,Kommersant, 17 March 2000.

29. Petr Cherniakov, ‘Norvegiia posleduet resheniiu OPEC’, Nezavisimaia gazeta,16 March 2000; I.I.Rodionov and S.Z.Zhiznin, “‘Gazovye’ prioritetyrossiiskoi diplomatii’, Diplomaticheskii vestnik, no. 2, 2000, p. 63.

30. Alexander Sergounin, The Process of Regionalization and the Future of theRussian Federation, Copenhagen Peace Research Institute Working Paper, no.9, pp. 9, 15 ff. See also www.bellona.no and Norwegian Ministry of ForeignAffairs, The Barents Region Cooperation and Visions for the Future (Odin:Utenriksdepartementet, UD) at www.odin.dep.no/ud/publ/1999/barents(accessed 11 November 1999).

31. Farutin, ‘Chto nam delat’ so Shpitsbergenom?’32. Cherniakov, ‘Norvegiia posleduet resheniiu OPEC’.33. For analyses of these problems, see Geir Flikke (ed.), The Barents Region

Revisited (Oslo, 1999); see also special issue of Nordisk Östforum (Oslo),no. 1, 2000. For one example, see Centre for Russian Studies DatabaseNorwegian Institute of International Affairs, ‘Primakov meets with hisFinnish counterpart’, 21 February 1999 (www.Nupi.no/cgi-win/Russland/krono.exe/3968).

34. For several articles, see Bellona Foundation, Russia, at www.bellona.no/e/russia (accessed 8 September 1999); and Steven Sawhill, ‘Cleaning Up theArctic’s Cold War Legacy: Nuclear Waste and Arctic Military EnvironmentCooperation’, Cooperation and Conflict: Nordic Journal of InternationalStudies, no. 1, 2000.

35. Moshes, The Baltic Sea Dimension in the Relations between Russia andEurope, p. 9ff; Oldberg, ‘No Love Is Lost’, pp. 166ff.

36. BBC Monitoring Service, SWB, SU/3808 B/8, 6 April 2000.37. Oldberg, ‘No Love Is Lost’, pp. 168ff; Michael Wyzan, The Baltic States:

Still Recovering from the Russian Crisis (Stockholm, 1999), p. 11.38. Ingmar Oldberg, The Kaliningrad Region—a Troublesome Exclave’, in

Daniel R. Kempton and Terry D.Clark (eds), Unity or Separation, Center-Periphery Relations in the Former Soviet Union (New York, 2000), p. 65;V.G.Pozdorovkin and Iu.S. Arutiumov, ‘Kaliningradskii faktor vsotrudnichestve Rossii so stranami Baltiiskogo regiona’, Diplomaticheskiivestnik, no. 1, 2000, pp. 67ff.

39. Vytautas Usackas, ‘Linking Russia with New Europe’, Washington Times, 12January 2000; Home page of the Lithuanian Ministry of Foreign Affairs,Lithuania’s Cooperation with Russia’s Kaliningrad Region, Political Deptand Information and Press Dept of MFA, 1999, at www.urm.lt/political/kaling.htm (accessed: 26 November 1999).

40. Lyndelle D.Fairlie, ‘Will the EU Use the Northern Dimension to Solve theKaliningrad Dilemma?’, in T.Forsberg and Karoliina Honkanen (eds),Northern Dimensions (Helsinki, 2000), pp. 85ff; Chichkin, ‘Shvedskii biznes“v politiku” ne igraet’.


Part IV:

The Southern Tier and the Middle East

11Russian Policy in the CIS under Putin

S.NEIL MACFARLANE

INTRODUCTION

There has been much speculation about the directions in which Russianforeign policy veers under Vladimir Putin. When elected as President, anInternational Herald Tribune headline suggested: ‘Putin is another riddlewrapped in a mystery in an enigma.’ An earlier headline read: ‘Putin hasbig lead, but few know where he is going.’ A reported exchange with areporter prior to the presidential election is symptomatic. When askedwhether he was going to change after the election, he responded, ‘I am notgoing to tell you that.’1

Leadership, however, is not the only important determinant of statebehaviour. The latter depends as much on the conditions faced by policymakers—and notably such factors as the distribution of power, statecapacity and identity—as it does on the personalities and dispositions ofthe policy makers themselves.

In this short chapter, although not dismissing the important role ofpersonality (or, for that matter domestic politics) in foreign policy, Iexamine the context in which the Russian leader makes policy, and theconstraints which that context places upon his policy choices, with specificreference to the southern tier of the CIS.2 The first section looks at themeaning and types of hegemony as a regional structure of power ininternational relations as one possible approach to explaining andpredicting Russian policy in the region and identifies a number ofhypotheses that may be useful in explaining Russian strategy in theFederation’s immediate region. The second section discusses the sources ofRussian engagement in the non-Russian former Soviet republics, focusingon the Caucasus and central Asia and applies the framework of analysis tothe case of Russia in what used to be called ‘the near abroad’.

Before beginning, it is important to state two assumptions that underliethe analysis. First, the analysis assumes that Russia will survive andmaintain its territorial integrity. The second, and perhaps more

controversial, assumption is that Russia will undergo a degree of stateconsolidation and economic recovery under President Putin. ThePresident’s intentions with regard to the reassertion of a greater degree ofcentral control over the regions are clear in, for example, his proposal tocreate seven new super-regions in Russia and to reform the upper house ofthe Russian parliament to remove regional governors and thereby deprivethem of their immunity from prosecution. Although this is a highlycontentious question, preliminary indications (and not least the approval ofthe relevant legislation by the lower house) are that Putin will prevail.3 Asfor the second, there is already clear indication of a degree of economicrecovery, associated not least with rising oil revenue.

HEGEMONY AND RUSSIAN FOREIGN POLICY

The basic proposition in realist international relations theory is that,having to rely on self-help for security, states use their power in order tocontrol areas of potential threat and to expand access to the sources ofpower. Stronger states seek to secure influence over, if not control of, weakerstates. Preponderant states in a region generally seek to exercise a degree ofcontrol over the lesser states around them.

However, a quick historical and comparative analysis of cases ofregional preponderance (e.g. the USA in the Americas, India in south Asia,South Africa in southern Africa, and Russia in the CIS) suggests considerablevariation within the general category. In the first place, the degree ofcontrol sought by the powerful over the weaker varies. It can be loose, aswith US influence over Canada and western Europe, or tight as in thecontrol exercised by the USSR over eastern Europe during the Cold War.The extreme variant here is empire. This is in turn related to a secondpoint: the degree to which the dominant state relies on cooperation andconsent as opposed to coercion and imposition varies historically andregionally. This is related to the extent to which the preponderant state isable to generate public goods (stability, economic welfare) for its weakerneighbours. Thirdly, the means that hegemonic states employ to securecontrol vary. The principal instruments may be economic or military, or,for that matter, ideational and normative. On this basis, one can identify arange of possible patterns of behaviour between two extremes: one consentbased, cooperative and non-militarized and the other coercive, militarized,intensive and intrusive.

There are several possible ways to explain this variation. One set ofhypotheses is external to the state in question. Here the suggestion is thatthe general environment in which a state finds itself is likely to affect itspolicy choices substantially. For example, if the larger environment inwhich a regionally dominant state exists is perceived to be threatening, thismay intensify its perceived need for control over its immediate


surroundings. If, in contrast, the strategic environment of the hegemon ismore permissive, then the dominant state’s strategy is likely to be morebenign.

The capacity of a hegemon to dominate its region is also affected by theexistence of balancing options for weaker states in the region. Where suchoptions exist and are credible, the weaker parties can resist thepreponderant state’s effort to control the space in question throughinformal or formal alliance relationships with third parties. Where suchoptions are not available, this means of protection is ineffective.

A second external variable that may be useful in explaining thebehaviour of regionally dominant powers is the capacity of neighbouringstates to manage their own affairs in such a way as to prevent or tominimize negative spillovers (e.g. political instability, military conflict,smuggling and other criminal activity) affecting the hegemon. Where aweaker state is incapable of managing such issues itself, and where theeffects on the dominant power are damaging, this invites intervention. Theexample of US interventions in Panama in 1989 and in Haiti in 1994 arecases in point, as was, arguably, the Indian intervention in the civil war inthen East Pakistan in 1971–72.

At the level of the state, several issues arise. Most notably, it has beensuggested that democratic states are less likely to go to war than are non-democratic ones, for both institutional and normative reasons.4 Althoughthis may hold for consolidated democracies, some scholars have argued thatstates undergoing processes of democratization may, in contrast, be morewar prone than either democratic or non-democratic states. Elitesthreatened by the widening of popular participation in politics may employnationalist mobilizational and legitimizing strategies that involve theevocation of external enemies.5

A second-unit-level consideration related to the first is that of identity.Does the state in question have a messianic self-understanding? How deepand valued is the state’s (and culture’s) military tradition? To what extentis ‘greatness’ a characteristic value of the political culture? How introvertedor extroverted is the state’s political history and culture? Do politicalactors and the constituencies they represent believe that they have specialrights and responsibilities in their neighbourhood (e.g. the MonroeDoctrine)? To what extent is the cohesion of political society threatened byinternal ethnic or national differences? What are the relative weights ofconflictual versus cooperative understandings of international relations inthe cognitive frameworks of political elites? The answers to these questionsmay strongly inform the responses of hegemonic states to the challengesthey face in their region.

A third consideration here is that the behaviour of a dominant statewithin its own region is likely to depend strongly on its capacity to defineand to marshal the resources to implement it. Weak, incoherent and

RUSSIAN POLICY IN THE CIS UNDER PUTIN 119

underfunded state structures and divided polities in a dominant stateimpede efforts to implement a regional agenda effectively and encourageother states in the region to explore extra-regional balancing options.

RUSSIAN POLICY IN THE CIS

Where does Russia fit in this analytical framework and what does thisimply about Russian policy in the CIS region? First, and focusing on systemicfactors, the strategic environment surrounding the Russian Federationframework is widely perceived to be hostile and potentially threatening.Russia has important security concerns at stake in neighbouring states.These induce Russian engagement in the affairs of its neighbours. One setof concerns arises from the negative externalities of regional instability.These include the spillover of conflict (e.g. refugees from Georgia in NorthOssetia and Krasnodar), broader migration associated with the economiccollapse of Caucasian and central Asian states, terrorism, and thepossibility that trends in central Asia may destabilize particular regions ofRussia (e.g. the impact of the Islamic revival in central Asia on the Muslimpopulations of the Volga Basin).6 Russia’s neighbours are weak states; theydisplay little capacity to prevent negative spillovers. They tend towardsinstability and have considerable difficulty controlling their own territory.Not surprisingly in this context, one of the early leitmotivs of Putin’s policyin the region is a renewed effort at security cooperation in central Asia andfocusing on countering terrorism and criminality.

Moreover, the CIS states serve as a buffer for the Russian Federationwith regard to NATO enlargement. NATO enlargement may favour aRussian policy of regional consolidation in the western CIS. This effect isarguably at work in the evolving Russian-Belarussian military relationship.The same effect may result from the apparent trend within the EU to givethat organization a meaningful security and defence identity and policy.Russia’s neighbours to the south serve as buffers with respect to Islamicradicalism. In a more prosaic sense, it bears mention that the bordersbetween Russia and its fellow CIS members are largely undefended. Theeffective borders of the Russian Federation remain to an important degreethe outer borders of the USSR, with their associated border control and airdefence infrastructure.

The immediate region also exercises an attractive force on Russian policyas a source of potential profit. This concerns the presence and thedevelopment of natural resources, notably in the Caspian Basin. Russiaseeks to share in and influence the development process in such a way as toprofit from it and to limit the extent to which decisions about such issuesas pipeline infrastructure enhance the independence of the smaller CaspianBasin states. The extent to which this is becoming a more significantpreoccupation of Russian policy makers is evident in, for example, the


spoiler role that Putin is playing with regard to the proposed transcaspiangas pipeline from Turkmenistan.7

Russian assertion in the region is facilitated by an important permissivecondition. There are few serious external challengers to Russia’s efforts todominate the region. The western states have never attempted to interfereseriously with Russian military policy in the region.8 Some have suggestedthat this may be changing as a result of the growing interest of the West inCaspian Basin energy reserves. Both in Russia and elsewhere in the region,the possibility of an active NATO role in the Caucasus and central Asiahas been discussed. There is little if any evidence that NATO wouldseriously contemplate enlargement to or basing options in the Caucasusand central Asia. The policies of potential regional competitors such as Iranor Turkey display considerable caution in the effort to expand theirinfluence in the region. Consequently, balancing options for the smallerstates of the CIS are limited. The ‘Great Game’, in other words, is not sogreat.9 In summary, Russia faces strong negative and positive impulses fromits surrounding environment that favour a forward regional policy.

If we now turn to the unit level of analysis, and deal first of all with thecharacter of the political system, Russia is usually considered to be engagedin a political transition to democracy, although the arrival of Putin maydelay or reverse this trend. If the hypothesis that democratizing states aremore prone to war is correct, the strains that democratization places on thepolitical system favour an assertive foreign policy in the region. The dynamicpredicted in the literature on the subject appeared to have been operating inPresident Putin’s selling of the Chechen war and may also have somebearing on the development of a forward security policy in central Asia andthe southern Caucasus.

An assertive and coercive strategy in the region is also favoured by theidentity considerations mentioned above. Russia’s political heritage is oneof force rather than persuasion, coercion rather than consent. There is anapparently strong aspiration within elements of the foreign policy andpolitical elites to restore Russian power and to ensure its recognition bothregionally and globally. The conflictual and competitive perception of theinternational system and belief in the hostility of the West predominatein traditional and current cognitive frameworks of many Russian policymakers. There is a clear tendency—inherited from the Yeltsin era—to claimspecial rights and responsibilities in the region. One of the more consistentaspects of Russian foreign policy since 1992 has been the insistence that theRussian Federation enjoys a droit de regard in what is perceived to beRussia’s ‘backyard’. This is related not only to a lingering post-Sovietnostalgia, but also to a deeper strain of mission in Russian nationalistthought and the place of ‘Eurasia’ in this thinking.10

On the other hand, it bears stressing that Russia remains lacking in statecapacity to implement a hegemonic policy in the CIS. The capacity of the


state to extract revenue in order to finance a more ambitious foreign policyhas shrunk considerably and the balance of power between the centre andthe regions has shifted to the detriment of the authorities in charge offoreign policy. The Russian military is tied down in Chechnya and hassuffered greatly over the past decade of halting reform and fiscal stringency.The various bureaucracies involved in the design and implementation offoreign policy in the CIS have had difficulty in coordinating their actionsand in controlling the activities of groups within them. Russia’s capacity torely on economic relations as a source of power and influence hasdiminished considerably as the Russian economy itself has declined and asRussia’s ties with the other CIS states have weakened. These limitations,however, proved to be less of a constraint under Putin.

SUMMARY

On balance, the analysis indicates that the Russian Federation will remainsubstantially engaged in a quest for influence in the CIS region. Given thesystemic, state, economic, societal and cultural aspects just discussed, theengagement is likely to tend towards the more intrusive, militarized,intensive and intrusive end of the spectrum of preponderance. Given thecapacity problem, the effort might be expected to be ineffective in attainingRussian objectives. The result, given the region’s unresolved conflicts andsubstantial remaining conflict potential as well as the worsening economicconditions of much of the population and the stagnation of political andeconomic transition, is likely to be persisting regional disorder. On theother hand, if Russia does restore a more effective state apparatus whileescaping an authoritarian solution, and if the economy recovers, this maycreate the basis for a more public goods-oriented, consent-based andmutually beneficial form of regional preponderance in the CIS.

NOTES

1. International Herald Tribune, 29 and 23 March 2000.2. I am treating the CIS primarily as a geographical space, rather than as an

institution.3. See, for example, the comments of Alain Rousso, the Director of the Moscow

Carnegie Center, as reported in Reuters, 9 June 2000.4. For a comprehensive treatment of this proposition, see the collection of

articles gathered in Michael Brown et al., Debating the Democratic Peace(Cambridge, MA, 1997).

5. See J.Snyder and Barnett R.Rubin, Post-Soviet Political Order. Conflict andState-Building (London 1998).

6. For a discussion of ‘uncontrolled’ migration, ‘international terrorism’ andconflict in the vicinity of the borders of the Russian Federation as threats to


Russia’s security, see ‘Kontseptsiia natsional’noi bezopasnosti RossiiskoiFederatsiia’, Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, no. 1, 14–20 January 2000.See also the most recent version of the Military Doctrine of the RussianFederation, Nezavismoe voennoe obozrenie, no. 15, 28 April–11 May 2000.

7. President Putin reactivated Russian pipeline diplomacy in the region in May2000, reversing previous Russian uncooperativeness on Turkmen gas exportsand agreeing to increase Russian purchases of Turkmen gas by 10 billioncubic metres every year until total purchases reached 50–60 billion cubicmetres (Reuters, 10 June 2000).

8. Indeed, there were repeated instances of Western expression of support forRussian efforts to maintain stability in the area, not least the 1994acceptance by the UN Security Council of Resolution 937 that authorized theCIS peacekeeping force in Georgia.

9. Anatol Lieven, The (not so) Great Game’, National Interest, no. 58, Winter1999/2000.

10. For a more extensive discussion, see S.Neil MacFarlane, ‘Russian Conceptionsof Europe’, Post-Soviet Affairs, vol. 10, no. 3, July–September 1994.


12The Security Dimension of Russia’s Policy

in South Central Asia

LENA JONSON

The purpose of this chapter is twofold: (1) to identify main elements ofRussian policy with regard to south central Asia in order to find thedetermining factors behind the policy shift during Vladimir Putin’s rise topower; and (2) to identify dilemmas for Russian policy in the region anddiscuss whether these dilemmas may lead to further revisions in Russianpolicy. The analysis concentrates on Russian policy with regard toUzbekistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan. Together they constitute a nest ofinstability and a severe challenge to regional security.

SHIFTS IN RUSSIAN POLICY

After Vladimir Putin became Prime Minister in August 1999, Russianpolicy observably shifted to a stronger emphasis on relations with centralAsia in general and certain central Asian states in particular. This newfocus can be regarded a radical shift by comparison both with Moscow’sinitial lack of interest in central Asian affairs (except for Tajikistan)immediately after the break-up of the Soviet Union and with theambivalent Russian interest during the following years.1

The events in Dagestan in August 1999 when Chechen rebels invadedDagestani territory and the Russian military campaign against Chechnyathat followed, brought the struggle against international terrorism andreligious extremism to the agenda of the Russian leadership. The August1999 attacks by Islamic terrorists in southern Kyrgyzstan contributed tomake the anti-terrorist struggle a central factor in Russian policy towardsthe central Asian states and provided the Russian government with aplatform for proposing closer military and security cooperation with thesecountries. As Russia was searching for a policy to counter its waninginfluence in central Asia, anti-terrorism seemed to be the issue aroundwhich the central Asian leaders could rally. Uzbek President Islam Karimovresponded positively to the Russian government’s proposals, and thetriangle of Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan became key states forRussia’s policy in the region.

The new importance given to central Asian affairs was reflected in visitsand in statements by Prime Minister Putin during the autumn of 1999. Hisfirst foreign trip as Prime Minister was to Tajikistan, in November 1999,just before the Tajik presidential election, and demonstrated continuedRussian support for its ally. The weighty Russian delegation included theDefence Minister, Igor Sergeev, and also the Minister for CIS(Commonwealth of Independent States) Affairs and the director of theRussian Federal Border Guard Service.2 The visit to Uzbekistan whichfollowed in December was no less important, and a series of bilateralagreements on security and military-technical cooperation were signed. TheRussian government also became more active with regard to issuesconnected with the energy export from central Asia. Discussions withTurkmenistan initiated in autumn 1999 resulted in an agreement onrenewal of Turkmen gas exports to Russia and indicated a willingness toallow the transit of larger quantities of Turkmen gas in the future. Thediscussions reflected Russian efforts to counter plans to build atranscaspian pipeline for the export of Turkmen gas to Turkey. However,it was the issue of international terrorism and extremism that produced theshift in Russian policy.

Putin’s address to Russia’s Federation Council on 22 December 1999signalled this new emphasis on policy towards central Asia in general andUzbekistan in particular. Putin mentioned three levels of ‘integration’between Russia and CIS countries. He placed relations with Belarus on thefirst level, relations with the countries of the CIS Customs Union, whichbesides Russia and Belarus includes Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan,on the second level, and Russia’s relations with Uzbekistan on the third.3

With regard to the latter, Putin not only described the bilateral treaty onmilitary and military-technical cooperation of 11–12 December 1999, as a‘turn for the better’ but described Russian-Uzbek relations as a’strategicpartnership’. He even suggested that the bilateral agreement ‘in its scopeand in terms of integration processes…is more significant than theCollective Security Treaty’ of CIS states of 1992, from which Uzbekistanwithdrew in April 1999.

That the Russian government ranked relations with Uzbekistan so highcould be regarded as sensational. Uzbekistan is the potential regionalpower in central Asia, with the largest population and the strongest army,and is therefore of great interest for Russia. However, from the mid-1990sit developed an independent foreign policy, with the aim of reducingdependence on Russia and developing relations with other states, and keptcooperation with the CIS and Russia to a minimum. In April 1999,Uzbekistan left the Collective Security Treaty and joined the GUUAM(consisting of Georgia, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan and Moldova). Itactively participated in the NATO Partnership for Peace (PfP) programmeand developed its contacts with the USA.

SECURITY POLICY IN SOUTH CENTRAL ASIA 125

Putin’s concern for Tajikistan was expected since the country is not onlyRussia’s closest ally in the region but also the weakest state as a result of itsfive-year-long civil war. The civil war ended in June 1997, when a peaceagreement was signed, but the peace process that followed remains fragile.President Imomali Rahmonov, who has been in power since late 1992 andwas re-elected in 1999, is completely dependent on Russian military,economic and material support. Russia has regarded stabilizing Tajikistanand guarding its border with war-ridden Afghanistan as being in itsnational security interest. Putin, when inspecting the Russian border troopsstationed along the Tajik-Afghan border in November 1999, reaffirmedthat these troops ensured the forward defence of Russia itself.4

A NEW PUSH FOR MILITARY AND SECURITYCOOPERATION?

After Uzbek Islamists advanced into the Batken district in Kyrgyzstan on22 August 1999 and took hostages in an effort to force their way fromTajikistan into Uzbekistan through Kyrgyz territory, the Kyrgyzgovernment pleaded for Russian and CIS assistance. The Russiangovernment responded to the Kyrgyz request with military-technicalassistance, including weaponry, ammunition and other military supplies.

Defence Minister Sergeev declared that the central Asian statesthemselves had to play the leading role in eliminating the terrorist groups.Russia’s assistance included generals and officers in the conflict zone of theOsh region, analysing the situation, working out proposals andparticipating in planning.5 Sergeev, however, made it clear that ‘thequestion of sending Russian ground units to the theatre of combatoperations is not being discussed’.6 As Russia had no soldiers or aircraft inthe conflict territory in Kyrgyzstan, Uzbek soldiers and aircraft played thecritical role in defeating the Islamists. Russia delivered attack helicopters toUzbekistan which were used in fighting the extremists.

A wave of Russian activity was initiated with the purpose not only ofresponding to the new threat but also of finding a new basis for futuresecurity and military cooperation. The December 1999 Russian-Uzbekagreement referred directly to the common struggle against this new threat.‘We are ready by joint efforts to put a barrier to the spread of terrorismand extremism’, said Putin after talks with Uzbekistan’s PresidentKarimov. ‘We are convinced that Russia’s help and presence in the regionwill allow us to repel the rampant expansion of extremism and terrorism’,said Karimov.7 The agreement envisaged cooperation between the twocountries’ defence ministries and armed forces on questions ofstrengthening military security, developing and producing militaryequipment and armaments, training military personnel, and the jointstruggle against international terrorism.8


At an emergency session of the CIS Council of Defence Ministers inMoscow on 15 September 1999 (Russia, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan,Tajikistan, Kazakhstan, Armenia and Belarus), Putin announced theestablishment of an anti-criminal coalition in order to handle extremists‘everywhere from the Caucasus to the Pamir’.9 At the CIS summit on 25January 2000 it was decided to work out an interstate programme of jointmeasures to combat extremism, terrorism and organized crime.10 At ameeting of the interior ministers of the CIS countries, in March 2000,Russia suggested the creation of an anti-terrorist centre, to operate on thebasis of the special units of the Russian Federal Security Service (FSB), and,in early April, Russia, Kazakhstan and Tajikistan agreed to create such acentre.11 The Secretary of the Russian Security Council, Sergei Ivanov,asked CIS member states to adopt national legislation that would authorizeRussian special units to operate on the countries’ territories.12 Russia thussuggested coordinated efforts to meet a terrorist threat, but the centralAsian states remained reluctant to commit themselves to the creation ofpermanent structures under Russian leadership. Consequently, they did notagree to the establishment of ‘joint rapid-deployment anti-terrorist forces’under the Collective Security Treaty as Russian official representatives hadsuggested in November 1999.13

Operational military cooperation intensified between Russia and thethree central Asian members of the Collective Security Treaty plusUzbekistan. A joint command-and-staff exercise, CIS Southern Shield 99,was conducted in late October and early November with troops fromRussia, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. The scenario envisaged aresolution by CIS heads of states as the legal basis’ for a collective decisionby defence ministers to launch a joint military operation. The mission ofthe operation outlined was similar to the events in Kyrgyzstan in August,and was summed up as liquidation of bandit-terrorist gangs penetratingfrom nearby states into Kyrgyzstan’s Osh Region and Uzbekistan’sFerghana Region or forming in those territories’.14

This exercise was followed up in early April 2000 by a larger exercise,CIS Southern Shield 2000, which aimed at preventing probable militaryincursion by Afghan extremists into countries of central Asia. Troops fromall member states of the CIS Collective Security Treaty plus Uzbekistanparticipated for the first time in combat training.15 Not only the armedforces but other security ministries—security services, frontier troops,interior troops, etc.—participated.16 Russian Defence Minister Sergeevdescribed the scenario for the exercise as a situation in which religiousnationalist extremism had resulted in attempts to declare territoriesindependent, infringing the constitutions of the countries concerned andconstituting ‘a significant threat to the national security of our countries’.17

Visits of high-ranking Russian military officials became more frequentafter the events in Kyrgyzstan. The anti-terrorist emphasis also added new


impetus to general military cooperation. Although Uzbekistan had notjoined the CIS multilateral agreement on air defence, it participated in amajor air defence exercise held in April 2000 based on the scenario of anaircraft hijacking. Both Uzbekistan and Tajikistan agreed to take a moreactive role in ‘anti-aircraft defence initiatives’ and Kyrgyzstan joined thejoint combat anti-aircraft defence duty of CIS member states. Thus Russiaseemed to be successful in revitalizing military security cooperation withcentral Asian states. The Russian paper Vedomosti commented: ‘It seemsthat Russia is ready to take revenge in central Asia for what it loses in theCaucasus.’18

Statements by individual Russian official representatives reflected that amore activist and militant approach was gaining support within theRussian leadership. Defence Minister Sergeev declared in April 2000 thatRussia had to increase its presence in central Asia since events in theCaucasus and central Asia bore witness to the fact that religious andnationalist terrorism posed a major threat to the treaty’s member states.19

At the Summit of Secretaries of the Security Councils of the members of theCIS Collective Security Treaty (Russia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan,Armenia and Tajikistan), the Secretary of the Russian Security CouncilSergei Ivanov did not rule out ‘pre-emptive strikes’ against terrorist groupsin Afghanistan.20

The main factors that explain the latest shift in Russian policy towardscentral Asia are concerns about: (1) the security situation, (2) the strategicsituation, and (3) local dynamics. The following sections look more closelyat each of these.

RUSSIAN SECURITY CONCERNS

What Putin was now referring to as ‘international terrorism’ hadpreviously been called ‘religious extremism’ by the Russian government. InMay 1998, Russia had entered a political coalition with Uzbekistan andTajikistan with the purpose of preventing ‘the spread of aggressivefundamentalism and extremism in the region’. The agreement addressedwhat has come to be perceived by the Russian and central Asiangovernments as a main threat to central Asian security—that of Islamicextremism.

Since the break-up of the Soviet Union, Russia has followed thedevelopment of Islam closely, and the threat of Islamic extremism wasmentioned indirectly in the draft Russian Military Doctrine of May 1992.21

It referred to local conflicts as a major threat to Russian security—especially those fanned by ‘an aggressive nationalism or religiousintolerance’. The document identified as a central task of the Russianmilitary to actively assist in localizing ‘the source of tension and stoppinghostilities as early as possible’. When, in September 1993, Russia and three


central Asian states decided on the deployment of a CIS CollectivePeacekeeping Force in Tajikistan, the threat of Islam was referred to as‘external aggression’.

The 1994 report by the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR) andits then director Evgenii Primakov, was more explicit in describing thethreat posed by Islamic extremism. The report mentioned as one possiblescenario for the future development of the CIS that the position of ‘Islamicextremists in CIS states with a Muslim population’ was expected to becomestronger, thereby posing a security threat to Russia and the other CISstates. A fear of Islamic extremism spreading from Tajikistan to the rest ofcentral Asia had been reflected in Russian support of the Tajik governmentagainst its adversary, the United Tajik Opposition (UTO), during the Tajikcivil war. Nevertheless, Primakov, who had spelled out the Islamic threat inthe 1994 report, in 1996 introduced the distinction betweenfundamentalism and extremism in government statements. He was also incharge of the 1996 turn of Russian policy in Tajikistan, which resulted inthe signing of a peace agreement between the conflicting parties in June1997.22

Radical Islam had been a limited phenomenon in central Asia but spreadduring the 1990s as part of the general process of Islamization in thesesocieties. Islam became politicized and was exploited by the politicalleadership as well as by the opposition in central Asian states.23 This wasespecially evident in Uzbekistan, where radical Islam had a stronghold inthe densely populated Ferghana Valley.

The May 1998 coalition to prevent ‘aggressive fundamentalism andaggression’ was followed in October 1998 by a declaration on mutualassistance in the event of aggression, which included a clause on militaryassistance.24 In July 1999, further documents on cooperation were signedcalling for regular trilateral contacts to counter ‘aggressive religious andother extremists, terrorists, criminal border infiltrators and drug and armstraffickers’.25 No practical measures of cooperation followed, however.The coalition was not a strong enough reason to keep Uzbekistan in theCollective Security Treaty after it expired in April 1999, and not even theterrorist bombs against government buildings in Tashkent in February1999 made Uzbekistan more willing to stay. It was the offensive by Islamicextremists in Kyrgyzstan in August 1999 that provided Russia with astrong argument with which to persuade Uzbekistan of the benefits ofcooperating with Russia.

The elusiveness of the borders is a serious problem to the states of theregion. The borders between the central Asian states are not yetfunctioning as state borders and there is no proper border control; they aretherefore open to illegal trespassing. The Russian presence at the outercentral Asian borders was radically reduced during the late 1990s. ByJanuary 2000, Russian border troops had been withdrawn from


Turkmenistan and Kyrgyzstan and replaced by national border guardservices of the countries concerned. Russian border guards remain only inTajikistan; however, the numbers were reduced between 1997 and 1999from 16,000 to 11,000.26

RUSSIA’S STRATEGIC CONCERNS

A process of strategic reconfiguration in central Asia was stepped upduring the second half of the 1990s when Russian economic and militarywithdrawal intensified. At the end of 1999, of the central Asian states onlyTajikistan, Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan remained members of the CISCollective Security Treaty. Russian troops were withdrawn from all statesexcept Tajikistan. Russia’s role and influence were reduced and the states ofthe region had started to reorient their foreign policy away from Russia.Turkmenistan adopted an independent course, declared a policy ofneutrality and had its status as a neutral state recognized by the UNGeneral Assembly in 1995. It never joined the Collective Security Treaty,avoided signing multilateral CIS military agreements and reduced itsbilateral military cooperation with Russia. During the first half of the 1990s,Uzbekistan seemed to be developing into a close military ally of Russia. Itcooperated with Russia to bring Rahmonov to power in Tajikistan in1992. After 1995, however, Uzbekistan distanced itself more and morefrom Russia, seeking assistance and investors from the West and the USA,and ceased to participate in multilateral CIS structures on both military andeconomic issues. As has been mentioned, in April 1999, Uzbekistan did notextend its membership in the Collective Security Treaty. Tajikistan andKyrgyzstan, however, needed the assistance of Russia.

The Russian retreat opened the way for investors from other countries.Trade increased between central Asian states and China, Iran, Turkey, theEU and the USA, among others.27 New prospects for the exploitation ofthe energy resources of the Caspian Sea raised the interest and stakes ofexternal powers. Prospects and plans for the construction of oil and gaspipelines circumventing Russian territory threatened Russia’s future roleand influence in the region.

The 1994 report by the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service had warnedthat the West in general and the USA in particular were hindering Russianefforts to integrate the CIS and to restore its former ‘great power’position.28 The report also gave a good deal of attention to what itsauthors considered to be involvement in central Asia by Western andMuslim states, Iran and Turkey being especially mentioned among thelatter. However, at the time the report was published it did not fully reflectgovernment policy.

In his 1996 address to the parliament on national security, PresidentYeltsin, when describing the changing strategic scene on CIS territory,


called ‘actions by states and their alliances…to undermine Russia’srelations with former Soviet republics’ a threat to Russia’s nationalsecurity.29 The draft of Yeltsin’s address, which was prepared by hissecurity adviser Iurii Baturin and published separately, more explicitlypointed to a general trend of disintegration on former Soviet territory andof Russia’s loss of influence. The draft was also more specific with regardto developments in the Caucasus and central Asia.30 The central Asianstates were described as being incapable of following an independent policyand therefore of increasingly being targets for foreign influence. Turkey,Iran, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, the USA and NATO were mentioned as themain external actors. The draft warned that in a worst-case scenario a newbuffer zone could be created to the south-east on former Soviet territory bystates unfriendly to Russia.

During the following years Russia watched with concern how centralAsian states discussed with Western partners plans and projects for theconstruction of oil and gas pipelines from the Caspian Sea region alongroutes that would avoid Russian territory. Security and military issues alsobecame a topic for cooperation between central Asian states and Westernstates. All the states of the region, except Tajikistan, joined the NATO PfPprogramme in 1994 and demonstrated their interest in further developingsuch cooperation. Joint military manoeuvres of the central Asianpeacekeeping battalion were carried out within the framework of the PfPinvolving NATO soldiers in exercises on central Asian territory.

The new Russian Military Doctrine of April 2000 and the new NationalSecurity Concept of February 2000 reflected the Russian reaction to thechanging strategic scene.31 Vladimir Putin participated in the finalizing ofthese documents from April 1999 when he became a secretary of theRussian National Security Council. The documents demonstrated Russianconcern with an ongoing strategic reconfiguration taking place on formerSoviet territory and in the world. The new keywords of ‘multipolarity’ and‘unipolarity’ provided these documents with a conceptual basis for criticismof US policy and for the creation of tactical alliances with states in order tocounter the USA and the West. Special attention was given to theincreasing engagement by the West (mainly the USA and NATO) in theCaucasus and central Asia. Russia’s national interests in the internationalarena were said to be threatened by ‘attempts of other states’ to prevent itfrom asserting its national interests ‘in Europe, the Middle East, theCaucasus, central Asia and the Asia-Pacific region’.32

Thus, Russian and central Asian leaders diverged drastically in theirunderstanding of security and the developments in the region. From theRussian perspective, the engagement of external powers constituted anexternal threat to Russian as well as to central Asian national and strategicinterests. To central Asian leaders, greater involvement on the part of theUSA, Turkey, Iran or China offered instead a guarantee of independence


and a promise of future economic development, and foreign investors werewelcome. Threats were perceived by central Asian leaders as emanatingmainly from within society—from economic underdevelopment—andRussia had little to offer in this regard. Until 1999, central Asian leaders(except the Tajik President) did not respond with enthusiasm to Russianproposals for military cooperation.

Events outside central Asia made Russia more concerned by theprocesses in the Caucasus and central Asia. Russia reacted strongly toNATO’s 1994 decision to enlarge the alliance, and again when theenlargement took place in 1999. The April 1999 NATO Strategic Conceptproviding for out-of-area operations and the bombing of Kosovo andSerbia in spring 1999 left Russia extremely frustrated. This culminated inautumn 1999 in the West’s criticism of Russia’s military offensive againstChechnya.

CONCERNS WITH UZBEKISTAN AND LOCALDYNAMICS

Uzbekistan’s role in the local dynamics of the area adds to Russianconcerns.33 With large Uzbek diasporas in neighbouring countriesUzbekistan influences the domestic life of these states. Growing tensionswithin Uzbek society between the regime and its critics, first and foremostradical Islamists, add a source of tension to an area with a large potentialfor conflict. Uzbekistan also constitutes a challenge to Russia as it has apotential to become a regional power. As long as Uzbekistan remained anally of Russia, Russia accepted Uzbek involvement in neighbouringcountries. When Uzbekistan became more independent from Russia, itthreatened to shift the balance in the region, and Russia tried to restrainUzbek influence.

There is a risk that conflicts will spread across the state borders of centralAsian states. With an ethnically complex population, regional differences,harsh socioeconomic conditions and an ongoing Islamic revival, there is abreeding ground for conflicts and extremism. Large diasporas, particularlyof Tajiks and Uzbeks, constitute an additional source of conflict. TheUzbek population of Tajikistan, which constitutes 24 per cent of the totalpopulation, lives mainly in the north and along the border withUzbekistan. A large Uzbek diaspora can also be found in border areas ofKyrgyzstan (16 per cent), Turkmenistan (9 per cent) and Kazakhstan (2 percent) and in the north of Afghanistan.34 The severe social and economicsituation of these countries and widespread corruption there createconditions in which social discontent and political speculation with regardto national, regional or religious affiliation flourish.

Fear of Islamist extremists led the Uzbek authorities to intervene in theneighbouring countries in spring and summer 1999. Uzbek security services


were ordered onto the territories of Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan to pursueethnic Uzbek Wahhabites there.35 After the 1999 bombings in Tashkent,Uzbekistan closed the Tajik-Uzbek border and the authorities referred toreports of a Tajik connection in the bombings.36 During the events in theBatken district in southern Kyrgyzstan in August 1999, Uzbekistan took anactive role in fighting the terrorists. Uzbek aircraft bombed the area, withpermission from the Kyrgyz authorities, but also bombed villages on theTajik side of the border, which led to protests from the Tajikgovernment.37 Uzbekistan’s President Karimov criticized the Kyrgyzauthorities for not demonstrating greater urgency and ‘resolution’ inresisting the militants.38 The events in Kyrgyzstan created tension inrelations between the central Asian states. The internal problems ofUzbekistan thus constitute a factor of instability for its neighbours.

The Russian approach to Uzbekistan has been ambivalent. On the onehand Russia has tried to counter Uzbek influence in the neighbouringcountries. The Uzbek intervention in Kyrgyzstan in autumn 1999 to fightterrorism once more demonstrated the potential and determination ofUzbekistan to become the dominant power in the region. On the otherhand, Russia has tried to find a common ground for cooperation withUzbekistan. The struggle against religious extremism and internationalterrorism offered a common denominator.

DILEMMAS FOR RUSSIA’S SOUTH CENTRAL ASIAPOLICY

Russian policy towards south central Asia as it is taking shape under Putindemonstrates a shift of emphasis. This shift is apparently an effort tocounter the trend of Russia’s decreasing influence in the region as well as aresponse to new security challenges. The effects of this policy, however,seem instead to increase the ambiguities and contradictions in Russianpolicy, thereby creating several dilemmas. The new situation may thereforepave the way for a more drastic policy revision in the future.

First, there is the dilemma created by Russia’s emphasis on the struggleagainst ‘international terrorism’ as a main theme for developing securitycooperation with the states of the region. The label of ‘internationalterrorism’ indicates a very narrow aspect of a much wider problem andgives too strong an emphasis to the military means to respond to thechallenge. (At the CIS summit of January 2000 this issue was indeedtransferred to the Ministries of Defence.) While Russia makescommitments to provide assistance in this kind of situation, it is not certainthat it is capable of living up to its commitments.

The defeat of the Uzbek Islamists’ incursion into Kyrgyzstan under JumaNamangani in late October 1999 was used in the Russian media toillustrate Russia’s capacity to provide military security assistance in the


event of a crisis in central Asia. The USA, NATO and internationalorganizations were described as incapable of providing any assistance inthis kind of situation. This is probably correct, even if the visit by USSecretary of State Madeleine Albright to central Asia in April 2000indicated a greater engagement in this kind of issue. The question remains,however, whether Russia itself would be capable of assisting if a seriousconflict erupted in the region.

The restraint on future Russian military assistance was reflected in thestatement by Russian Defence Minister Sergeev in September 1999 that thecentral Asian states had to cooperate in order to solve the crisis inKyrgyzstan mainly by themselves. In this way he indicated that Russia isnot prepared to take on the burden and the responsibility as it once did inTajikistan in the early 1990s. During the crisis in Kyrgyzstan, Russiatherefore offered only military-technical assistance and equipment but notroops. Russian military forces and border troops have already beenwithdrawn from Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan and Kyrgyzstan and somewhatreduced in Tajikistan. Russian elite troops are concentrated in the northernCaucasus in order to secure control over Chechen territory, and willprobably have to remain there for a long time; they cannot be sent tocentral Asia.

Russia therefore seems to be able to provide assistance only in minorcrises in some low-intensity conflicts in the region. Several Russiancommentators fear that fighting will start again. It seems evident that if aserious crisis developed in central Asia, Russia would be neither willing norable to send troops. Russia would not be prepared to engage in a centralAsian ‘Chechnya scenario’.

A second dilemma is created by Russia’s emphasis on ‘strategicpartnership’ with Uzbekistan: Russia can hardly expect a long-lasting alliance with the country. As has been pointed out by some Russiancommentators, Uzbekistan’s cooperation with Russia is tactical andUzbekistan is hardly interested in revising its foreign policy or in damagingits relations with the West.

For Russia it may be politically dangerous to rely on Uzbekistan and tobe involved with Uzbekistan on such issues as ‘religious extremism’ and‘international terrorism’. There are several reasons for this, the first beingthat Uzbekistan is an authoritarian regime which does not allow politicalopposition. President Karimov has initiated an offensive against hisdomestic opposition and has labelled more or less all the Uzbek opposition‘extremists’. There could be negative consequences if Russia were to becometoo involved with this repressive regime. Repression and severe socio-economic conditions in Uzbekistan are fertile ground for the flourishing ofIslamist groups. Repression may prepare the conditions for a complicatedand turbulent transfer of power after Karimov. The second reason is thepossible backlash from Russia’s own large Muslim populations if Russia


becomes too involved in fighting radical Islam. Reactions during the war inChechnya have already indicated such a reaction.

The third dilemma concerns the regional consequences if Russia supportsUzbekistan and is therefore bound to accept Uzbek involvement in thedomestic affairs of neighbouring countries. This may be the mostimportant factor that produces negative consequences for Russia’s positionin the region. The incursion by Islamic extremists into Kyrgyzstan seriouslyaggravated relations between Tashkent, Dushanbe and Bishkek. Russianpress reports have warned that a ‘Dagestani scenario’ may follow on theevents in the Batken district of Kyrgyzstan in the sense that Uzbek forceswould march into Tajikistan to destroy bases and camps assisted byartillery and air raids.39 Karimov severely criticized the Kyrgyz authoritiesfor passivity and lack of capacity to handle the situation during the crisis.He declared that Uzbekistan was ‘quite within its rights’ to conduct anoperation against terrorists in Tajikistan. He believed the terrorists hadcrossed the Kyrgyz border not in August 1999 but two years earlier.‘Hence all these criminal raids and the tons of explosives we discovered inthe cities of Kokand, Andizhan and Namangan. It was all brought therethrough the territory of Kyrgyzstan’, he said.40 During spring and summer1999, when the Uzbek secret service were pursuing Islamists on Kyrgyzterritory, Kyrgyz President Akaev and the Kyrgyz government tried to playdown the Islamic threat. Akaev commented in summer 1999 on Uzbekbehaviour more or less to the effect that a small country could not do muchwhen a larger neighbour behaved as the Uzbek security service did inKyrgyzstan.41 His words reflected concern with the Uzbek involvement.

Neighbouring Tajikistan is utterly vulnerable to Uzbek involvement andinfluence and has accused Uzbekistan of supporting anti-government forcesin Tajikistan. If Russian policy prioritizes Uzbekistan it will be more difficultfor Russia to restrain Uzbek influence in Tajikistan. A close partnershipbetween Russia and Uzbekistan may therefore weaken the constraints onUzbek power and influence and trigger a development in the region and areaction from Uzbekistan’s neighbours, which may turn out to bedetrimental to Russian influence in the region. It is therefore a trickybalancing act for Russia to support Uzbekistan in a partnershiprelationship and at the same time counter Uzbekistan’s growing influence.

The fourth dilemma stems from the problem of maintaining stability inTajikistan, which is crucial to regional security. Most Russian politiciansand commentators believe that a continued Russian military presence inTajikistan is necessary. Still there are arguments and proponents in favourof reducing that presence. A long-term troop reduction and reorganizationof the remaining troops have already started with regard to the Russianborder troops. In order to prepare for withdrawals of Russian troops, Russiahas built up and trained the Tajik national army and contributed to thecreation of a national border troop service. Russian border troops have


also transferred tasks along a limited part of the Tajik-Afghan border toTajik national border troops. In the long run, national Tajik forces may becapable of taking over border defence and national security, but for themoment this is far from being realized. The ranks of the Russian 201stDivision have been filled by Tajik nationals. Since 1998, the Tajik ethniccomponent in the officer staff has also increased. In an effort to secure aRussian military presence in the future, an agreement has been signed forreorganizing the 201st Division into a military base with a smaller numberof soldiers for a duration of 25 years. In this way the Russian governmentis able to secure control of Tajikistan and its border with Afghanistan, forwhich a strong presence is necessary. On the other hand, a militarypresence may not be economically defensible in the long run, and a futureTajik government may not favour a Russian military presence in thecountry. As long as war in Afghanistan continues, the situation inTajikistan will remain unstable. Since the Tajik government is not yetcapable of controlling Tajik territory, the country remains a black hole inthe sense that it offers transit routes for drug trafficking, arms smugglingand all manner of illegal trespassing. If Russia reduces its presence,Uzbekistan may fill the vacuum.

The fifth dilemma stems from the threat of Taliban forces advancing intonorthern Afghanistan and the border of the central Asian states. The anti-Taliban Northern Alliance, which is led by the ethnic Tajik Ahmad ShahMasud, and the ethnic Uzbek Abdul Rashid Dostum, and is supported byRussia, has been pushed back by the Taliban and now controls theterritory close to the border to Tajikistan. Since 1998 the Taliban havetried to take control of the northern provinces of Kunduz and Takhar andthereby cut the supply channels of military and other assistance to theNorthern Alliance. They managed to oust Dostum and press Masud up tothe border of Tajikistan. This has prompted different suggestions in theRussian debate as to how the Russian government might best respond tothe situation. One alternative would be to increase support by Russia andthe central Asian states for the Northern Alliance in its struggle against theTaliban.42 A completely opposite policy recommends diplomaticrecognition of the Taliban government and the restoration of diplomaticrelations, an approach that has been suggested by some Russian analysts.This would make it possible to come to agreement with the Talibangovernment on common problems.43 Turkmenistan already follows thelatter recommendation. In contrast to Russia and other central Asianstates, Turkmenistan already has consular relations with the Talibanregime. Trade is developing between the two countries and there are plansfor Turkmenistan to provide the Afghan border regions with electricity.44

The Russian government excludes diplomatic recognition. If Russia insteadchooses to continue its support for the Northern Alliance, it needs thesupport of Uzbekistan.


PROSPECTS FOR THE FUTURE

The new emphasis on strategic concerns regarding developments in southcentral Asia, as reflected in Russian government policy under VladimirPutin, has resulted in several policy dilemmas. Russia’s present policy in theregion is both ambiguous and contradictory and may be counterproductivein the sense that it helps to speed up the weakening of Russia’s position andinfluence. As this chapter has pointed out, giving priority to Uzbekistan inRussian policy may have negative consequences for regional dynamics.

Russia has come to a crossroads in its policy towards central Asia. Itsnew focus on the struggle against ‘international terrorism’ and ‘religiousextremism’ may create illusions both in Russia and in south central Asiathat these kinds of problem can be solved by military means and force. Thecomplex situation in south central Asia and the potential for violent conflictin the area together with the ambiguities and contradictions in presentRussian policy may pave the way for a revision of Russian policy in thefuture. Either Russia has to engage more actively in providing militarysecurity guarantees and assistance in situations of domestic crisis inTajikistan, Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan or it has to initiate a policy in favourof close cooperation with both international organizations and externalpowers in the region in a joint effort to respond to security challenges.Russia has to give priority either to its concern with the intensified strategiccompetition with other external powers engaging in the region or to itsconcern with the security of the region. Against the background of thegreat potential for conflict in central Asia, the overall Russian resourcebase will hardly be sufficient for a competitive situation, or for providingmilitary assistance if a serious violent conflict erupts.

Central Asia is a region with a great potential for conflict. No singleexternal power can take on the task and the burden of acting as a securityguarantor. International cooperation may be the only option if conflicts areto be prevented. There has been growing interest among central Asianstates as well as external powers in creating and participating in securityarrangements, so far mainly of a non-military character. Ultimately thecooperative option for Russian policy may therefore be the best option, andone which will prove to be the most realistic response not only to thesecurity challenges of the region but also to the challenge of Russia’s ownnational security.

NOTES

1. Lena Jonson, Russia and Central Asia: A New Web of Relations (London,1998); Lena Jonson, ‘Russia and Central Asia’, in Lena Jonson and RoyAllison (eds), Central Asian Security Dynamics: The New InternationalContext (Washington, DC, 2001).


2. Nadezhda Alekseeva, ‘Vizit rossiiskogo premera v Tadzhikistan’,Nezavisimaia gazeta, 17 November 1999, p. 1.

3. Jamestown Foundation, Monitor, vol. 6, no. 4, 6 January 2000.4. Russian TV, in BBC Monitoring Service, Inside Central Asia, no. 301, 15–21

November 1999.5. Leonid Ivashov (Main Directorate for International Cooperation of the

Defence Ministry), ‘Rol’ Rossii v uregulirovanii konfliktov usilivaetsia’,Nezavisimaia gazeta, 15 September 1999, p. 3.

6. Leonid Panin, Yuri Stepanov and Igor Shestakov, ‘Uzbek Servicemen Armedwith Russian Weapons to Conduct Operations in Kyrgyzstan’, KommersantDaily, no. 4, 2 September 1999.

7. Jane’s Defence Weekly, 22 December 1999.8. Itar-Tass news agency, Moscow, in Russian, 1126 GMT, 11 December 1999;

and BBC Worldwide Monitoring, 11 December 1999.9. Iurii Golotiuk, ‘Rossiia ne toropitsia otkryvat’ “novyi front”’, Izvestya, 22

September 1999, p. 3.10. Ostankino Radio Mayak, Moscow, 26 January 2000/BBC Monitoring

Service, International Reports, 26 January 2000.11. Segodnya, 4 April 2000/Reuters, 7 April 2000.12. Jamestown Foundation, Monitor, vol. 6, no. 51, 13 March 2000.13. Itar-Tass in Jamestown Foundation, Monitor, vol. 5, no. 206, 5 November

1999.14. Ibid.15. Troops from five states participated, including 13,000 servicemen, 40

armoured personnel carriers, including tanks, a few missile systems, about 20battle helicopters and about 30 fighter aircraft. (In the 1999 exercise, there wasno combat firing and troops exercised mainly on the territories of their ownstates, with the exception of the Tajik unit, which marched across theterritory of Uzbekistan.) Both Armenia and Belarus participated in April2000.

16. On 1 April the combat stage proper started on the Tigrovaia Balka test areain Tajikistan and near the town of Termez in Uzbekistan. According to theplan for the exercises, an armed incursion from Afghanistan was to besuppressed by anti-terrorist military detachments of treaty countries andUzbekistan. Uzbek ground detachments and aviation were to be deployednear Termez and interact with the main anti-terrorist headquarters located inDushanbe. Vladimir Georgiev, ‘Voiska treniruiutsia’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 4April 2000, p. 5.

17. Segodnya, 4 April 2000, p. 4/Reuters, 5 April 2000.18. Vedomosti, 6 April 2000/Reuters, 10 April 2000. On 5 April, the CIS anti-

aircraft defence system held unprecedented headquarters command trainingexercises. Over 50 planes took off in Belarus, Armenia, Kyrgyzstan,Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Ukraine. It was the first time that cooperationbetween the operating control of the anti-aircraft defence systems of thesecountries had been practised in a situation requiring the application ofnational strength and resources to detain hijacked planes. About 20,000servicemen took part in the exercises. Kommersant Daily, 6 April 2000/Reuters, 7 April 2000.


19. BBC Monitoring Service, Central Asia, 3 April 2000/Reuters, 3 April 2000.20. IPR Strategic Business Information Database, 11 April 2000/Reuters, 11

April 2000.21. Flemming Splidsboel-Hansen, The Official Russian Concept of

Contemporary Central Asian Islam: The Security Dimension’, Europe-AsiaStudies, vol. 49, no. 8, 1997, pp. 1501–17.

22. Lena Jonson, The Tajik War: A Challenge to Russian Policy (London, 1998).23. Aleksei Malashenko, ‘Islam and Politics in Central Asian States’, in Lena

Jonson and Murad Esenov (eds), Political Islam and Conflicts in Russia andCentral Asia, Swedish Institute of International Affairs, Conference Papers24, 1999.

24. Iurii Golotiuk, ‘Russia is Joining the Union of the Three’, Izvestya, 13October 1998, p. 1/Former Soviet Union 15 Nations: Policy and Security(Moscow), October 1998, p. 41.

25. ‘SNG: Khronika Sobytii iyun’-iyul’ 1999’, Sodruzhestvo NG, no. 7, July1999.

26. According to their commander, Major-General Aleksandr Markin. Interfax,22 July 1999/BBC Monitoring Service, Inside Central Asia, no. 284, 19–25July 1999, p. 2. Patrolling functions along parts of the Tajik-Afghan borderwere transferred in 1999 to the Tajik national border guard service.

27. Richard Pomfret, Central Asia Turns South? Trade Relations in Transition(London, 1999).

28. ‘Rossiia i SNG: Nuzhdaetsia li v korrektirovke pozitsiia zapada?’, Rossiiskaiagazeta, 22 September 1994.

29. ‘O natsional’noi bezopasnosti: Poslanie Prezidenta RF Federal’nomuSobraniiu’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 14 June 1996, p. 7.

30. The concept was drafted by Iurii Baturin, adviser to Yeltsin. ‘Politikanatsional’noi bezopasnosti Rossiiskoi Federatsii (1996–2000)’, NG-Stsenarii,no. 2 (May 1996).

31. ‘Voennaia doktrina Rossiiskoi Federatsii. Proekt’, Krasnaia zvezda, 9October 1999; final version published in Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, no.15, 28 April–11 May 2000; and ‘Kontseptsiia natsional’noi bezopasnostiRossiiskoi Federatsii’, ibid., no. 1, 14–20 January 2000.

32. ‘Kontseptsiia natsional’noi bezopasnosti Rossiiskoi Federatsii’.33. For an analysis of Russia and Central Asian security dynamics of the Uzbek,

Tajik and Afghan factors, see Jonson, ‘Russia and Central Asia’.34. Note from Anara Tabyshalieva, The Challenge of Regional Cooperation in

Central Asia: Preventing Ethnic Conflict in the Ferghana Valley(Washington, DC, 1999). Tabyshalieva mentions the figure of 45,000 Tajikrefugees in Kyrgyzstan.

35. Similar problems along the Uzbek-Kazakh border led the authorities of aborder region of Kazakhstan, the Makhtaral’skii region, to request that amilitary unit be deployed there. Igor Rotar, ‘Mezhdu otvergnutym proshlym itumannym budushchim’, Sodruzhestvo NG, no. 7, July 1999. See alsoVladimir Georgiev, ‘Moskva obrela novogo soiuznika’, Nezavisimaia gazeta,17 April 1999, pp. 1 and 5.


36. Gulfira Gayeva and Yuri Chubchenko, ‘Russia Names its Principal Ally inCentral Asia’, Kommersant Daily, 26 February 1999, p. 3; Former SovietUnion 15 Nations: Policy and Security, February 1999, p. 85.

37. BBC Monitoring Service, Inside Central Asia, no. 294, 27 September–3October 1999.

38. Uzbek President Karimov said: ‘These things are happening because of theweak policy carried out by the Kyrgyz government. This kind of humaneattitude towards terrorists will lead to this kind of incident.’ However,Kyrgyz National Security Minister Tashtemir Aitbaev responded thatKyrgyzstan had taken ‘very correct steps’. ‘We did not let them drag us into along drawn-out war.’ BBC Monitoring Service, Inside Central Asia, no. 301,15–21 November 1999.

39. Gafarli Mekhman, ‘Narkobiznes i islamskii ekstremizm’, Nezavisimaiagazeta, 23 October 1999, p. 5.

40. Ibid.41. Igor Rotar, ‘Neprostoe sosedstvo’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 2 July 1999, p. 5.42. This was suggested by Colonel Valerii Popov, chief of the operational

department of the Russian border troops in Tajikistan, as late as February2000. Valerii Popov, ‘Ukhodit’ iz Tadzhikistana nel’zia’, Nezavisimoevoennoe obozrenie, no. 5, 11–17 February 2000, p. 2.

43. See articles by Aleksandr Umnov in Nezavisimaia gazeta already in 1998. In1998, the central Asian leaders had started to discuss the possibility ofrecognizing the Taliban government. On the eve of the summit of the CentralAsian Economic Union in August 1998, the question of recognition wasconsidered but left for discussions by Russia and the five central Asiancountries. See Vladimir Mukhin, Professor of the Russian Academy ofMilitary Sciences, ‘Extension of the Zone of Taliban’s Influence MaySignificantly Infringe upon Russia’s Interests in Central Asia’, Former SovietUnion 15 Nations: Policy and Security, August 1998, pp. 18–23. See alsoMikhail Pereplesnin, ‘Taliby pytaiutsia poluchit’ priznanie mira’,Nezavisimaia gazeta, 18 February 2000, p. 6. As these analysts point out,diplomatic relations with Kabul would have prevented situations like the onewhich arose in January 2000, when the Taliban government recognized theindependence of Chechnya.

44. Pereplesnin, ‘Taliby pytaiutsia poluchit’ priznanie mira’.


13The Role of Islam in Russia’s Relations

with Central Asia1

YAACOV RO’I

Islam came to be perceived as a threat to the stability of the Soviet statefollowing the Islamic revolution in Iran in 1978–79 and the formation ofan active Islamic opposition to the Marxist regime in Afghanistan in thesame period. This perception persisted into the Gorbachev period ofglasnost’ and perestroika, and, indeed, into the post-Soviet era of BorisYeltsin and Vladimir Putin. It is not clear to what extent Russia’s newrulers—or their Soviet predecessors—really believed that Islam’spoliticization might jeopardize the country’s stability. To some observers itappeared rather that the theoretical possibility of such a threat waselaborated in order to provide a pretext for repression of what Moscowtermed Islamic extremism or fundamentalism. Certainly, it was a card,which, if cleverly played, might be expected to rally Russian public opinionbehind government policy and to win support for that policy in the USAand western Europe to boot.

The issues at stake were not solely those of foreign policy—relations withthe ‘near abroad’, as the newly independent successor states of the formerUSSR have been dubbed, and with the Muslim world outside and theWest. There was a clear relevance for domestic policy as well, the RussianFederation having a considerable Muslim population of its own, primarilythe Volga Tatars, who comprised the second largest ethnic group after theRussians, but also the Bashkirs and the various north Caucasianethnicities. The link between the enhanced national awareness of the SovietUnion’s numerous nationalities in the last decade or so of its existence andtheir traditional ‘national’ religions was likely to be a factor conducive tointer-ethnic tension within the Federation after independence. In fact,religion seemed to have a role in some of the inter-ethnic conflicts whichbroke out in Russia in the 1990s: apart from the obvious case ofChechnya, there was the strife between Ossets and Ingush. Moreover, therewere manifest instances of strain between Russians and Tatars whichsometimes centred on their religious differences. As in some of the northCaucasian republics, so too in Tatarstan the eponymous population soughtto restrict the confessional activity of the Russians. Similarly, from time totime in certain ‘Russian’ regions, Muslims expressed their disgruntlement

at the insufficient attention paid by officialdom to their religious needs andlooked upon government policy, particularly in the sphere of education, asone of Christianization.2

In this context it was inevitable that Russia would show an interest indevelopments within Islam not only inside its own borders, particularly inthe northern Caucasus, but also in the near abroad. This meant first andforemost central Asia, where about two-thirds of the Muslims of the CIS(Commonwealth of Independent States) resided. Trends that surfaced anddeveloped there would almost certainly have an effect on Russia’sMuslims. Moreover, it was likely that statements by Russian politiciansand military leaders about Russia’s struggle with Islamic fundamentalism’in Tajikistan would encourage inter-faith and inter-ethnic antagonisms inRussia.3

The leaders of the newly independent states of central Asia, four out offive of whom were former republican Communist Party first secretaries,have, for their part, assimilated the CPSU (Communist Party of the SovietUnion) leadership’s understanding of the Islamic threat. The president ofthe most populous of these states, Islam Karimov of Uzbekistan, has madeIslam synonymous with turbulence and opposition: all believers who cometogether in any form of Islamic association not under the direct control ofhis government have been branded opponents of the regime. In this way,Karimov sought to distinguish between the increasingly manifest andubiquitous practice of Islam, on the one hand, and Islamic officialorganizations and institutions, which he isolated and delegitimized, on theother.4

Undoubtedly, at certain stages it appeared as if the common interest ofthe governments of Russia and of central Asia in suppressing, or preventingthe rise of, ‘Islamic fundamentalism’ was one of the major components ofRussia’s rapprochement with Karimov’s Uzbekistan and ImomaliRahmonov’s Tajikistan. Throughout 1992, Karimov kept up a ‘relentlessbarrage of propaganda’ concerning the threat to all of central Asia andRussia from a chain reaction sparked by Tajikistan’s Islamists. AndMoscow heard similar stories from Tajikistan’s own hardliners.5 Indeed,commentators saw in this the raison d’être of Russia’s considerable militaryinvolvement in Tajikistan’s civil war even prior to Rahmonov’s becomingPresident. They interpreted this direct involvement as a reaction to theparticipation of the Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan in the coalitiongovernment, which ruled that country from May to November 1992.6 Bethis as it may, members of the Yeltsin administration, who were reformerswithin Russia, joined up with hardliners in their Islamophobia. Somepeople in Moscow seemed to think that the sovereignty of the former unionrepublics, especially the Muslim ones, could and should be subordinated toRussia’s alleged security interests. In this context they insisted that no


foreign, i.e. Afghan, Iranian or Pakistani, interference in Tajikistan’s affairswould be tolerated.7

According to one scholar, the considerable disagreement in Moscowitself over the direction that Russia’s role in the Tajik civil war should take,was a necessary projection of conflicting opinions among the Russianpolitical elite on the issue of Russia’s relations with central Asia and theCaucasus and its position regarding ‘the Islamic threat’. On the one handwere the conservative centrists—Foreign Ministry officials and someleaders of the Communist Party. They were the heirs of the Russianimperial and Soviet view of central Asia as a legitimate sphere of influence,which was historically combined with anxiety at a possible Islamic threatand a belief in the feasibility of cooperation between the Russian OrthodoxChurch and traditional Islam. Moreover, they feared the total alienation ofthe Muslim areas of the CIS, rejected the idea of opposition and hostilitytowards the Islamic world, and had no desire for an alliance withWashington in a struggle against Islam.8 There was, in their view, neitherrhyme nor reason for Russia to be drawn into the West’s hostilerelationship with the Muslim world. They opted rather for friendlyrelations with the countries of the Middle East, especially Iran and Turkey,the traditional southern flank. To achieve this they were, moreover,interested in employing the good services of the central Asian states,notably Kazakhstan.9

Against these ‘neo-Eurasians’ were the ‘Euro-Atlantists’, who took ‘amuch more ideological and cultural view of the Islamic factor, advocating asignificantly more thorough and sustained containment policy’. This view,favoured by Yeltsin, drew ‘heavily from the predominantly Western,secular and modernist views of Islam as a geo-cultural threat, with seriouspotential for political challenge to Russia’s interests’. It therefore meantallocating to Russia ‘an activist role in the Islamic containment’, indeedindicating that Russia would ‘provide the “front line” of defence’ againstIslamic fundamentalism. It also enhanced Moscow’s ability to justify andobtain support from the West for ‘an ever-expanding political-militaryintervention in Tajikistan’, where Russia became, in essence, the soleguarantor of the Rahmonov regime. Yeltsin’s first Foreign Minister, AndreiKozyrev, sought to demonstrate that Russia would be instrumental inbringing the central Asian states closer to the West, since all of them, aswell as Azerbaijan, had gone on record in expressing their concern over theIslamic threat.10 (A somewhat different assessment of the Russian internaldebate points out that the Islamic factor has been most vigorouslyexploited both by Russian or Slavic-Orthodox nationalists and by the pro-Western Atlanticists.11)

It was thus entirely logical that Russia maintained an armed presence inTajikistan during and after the civil war. These forces consisted of borderguards—comprising a small central Asian contingent from other regional

ROLE OF ISLAM IN RELATIONS WITH CENTRAL ASIA 143

states of the CIS—and the Russian army’s 201st Motorized Rifle Division,deployed in Tajikistan since the Soviet period. Russian and Uzbekistanitroops helped the hardliners in their final drive on Dushanbe in late 1992,and military, KGB and police personnel from both states remained in thecountry to help the new government crush all opposition. By autumn 1993there were 15,000 Russian troops in Tajikistan, and this number grew bythe middle of the decade to 20,000.12 Among the explanations thatMoscow gave for its participation in the ongoing fighting in Tajikistanwere the alleged participation of Afghans and Tajiks in attacks on Russiantroops and, above all, Russia’s strategic interest in combating Islamicfundamentalism.13

In the words of one Western analyst, The painful associations of [thewar in] Afghanistan for many Russians and other citizens of the formerSoviet Union’ enabled ‘the combination of the civil war in Tajikistan andthe rise of the Taliban in Afghanistan’ to stimulate ‘repeated alarms, oftenbased on unsubstantiated or falsified information, of an Islamicfundamentalist drive northward, first into Tajikistan, then into otherCentral Asian states’, finally reaching Russia itself.14 While Russia’s policytowards Afghanistan is extraneous to the theme of our discussion, it isclear that Moscow’s genuine or apparent apprehensions regarding theinstability that might easily spill over from that country into neighbouringCIS states have focused, among others, on Islam. (The other main source ofconcern has been drug trafficking.)

In the second half of the 1990s, however, Uzbekistan’s specialrelationship with Moscow seemed to weaken, although both continued tosee in a politicized Islam a threat to their internal stability and to exploitthis real or imaginary danger to justify anti-democratic procedures in theirrespective territories. Karimov’s Uzbekistan on the Threshold of theTwenty-first Century devotes an entire chapter to ‘great powerchauvinism’, in which the author’s main concern is the persistence ofRussian imperialism.15

In addition to its strictly security implications, the issue under review—the role of Islam in Russia’s relations with the near abroad—has animportant emotional aspect. For Russia, Islam represents, as it were, thevestiges of the traditional antagonism between East and West, legitimizingRussia’s historical role as the defender of Christendom and Westerncivilization against the primitive and sinister aggressiveness of its Asiaticneighbours, which in many ways provided the apologia for its great powerstatus. For the newly independent states of central Asia, in contrast, despitetheir official secularism, Islam is an integral part of the national heritageand culture. They therefore differentiate between ‘moderate’ orestablishment Islam and attempts at Islamic organization or consolidationbeyond the orbit of government control.16 Since even autocratic regimeshave to beware of totally antagonizing their populations, they have found


themselves walking a rather difficult tightrope and giving considerablepublicity to the dangers that Islamic ‘extremism’ poses to social andpolitical stability inside their countries.

The dilemma of the central Asian states emanates from their lack of aneffective security apparatus capable of meeting any serious domesticopposition let alone a significant external menace. The perils inherent inthe region as a result of a possible spillover of the protracted Afghan civilwar made them all, and particularly Afghanistan’s immediate neighboursUzbekistan and Tajikistan, manifestly dependent on Russia’s goodwill andeven concrete military assistance. (Turkmenistan also has a commonborder with Afghanistan, but President Sapurmurad Niyazov haspersistently distanced himself from the regional politics of both Russia andhis central Asian neighbours.) Indeed, the threat of a spillover highlightedthe sharing by the regional states and Russia of a common cause ofconcern. Many observers perceived the civil war in Tajikistan and thecontinued instability there after the war’s termination in 1996 as aprojection of developments in Afghanistan. (Part of the air force of AhmadShah Masud, one of the leaders of the anti-Taliban coalition, was said tobe stationed in Kulob in Tajikistan, and the family of PresidentBirhanuddin Rabbani to have evacuated to Dushanbe.) Tajikistan’s twocentral Asian neighbours Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan, as well asKazakhstan, have all proclaimed their support for decisive action topreserve that country’s territorial integrity.17 Russia, for its part, isinterested in constraining and localizing conflict to the distant periphery ofthe CIS and keeping it as far away as possible from its own borders.Already concerned by the constant hazards of the north Caucasiansituation, the Russian Federation certainly does not desire further Islamicinfluence in the south-east. The nightmare scenario from Moscow’s point ofview would be a link between Islamic forces in central Asia and theNorthern Caucasus,18 or between Islamic forces in Afghanistan and incentral Asia, either of which could turn into an anti-Russian jihad.

The situation became more complex as of 1998. Despite Karimov’sreservations regarding Russia’s great power chauvinism, Moscow, Tashkentand Dushanbe concluded a triple alliance in May 1998 to coordinateefforts in the struggle against extremist tendencies in Islam. The UzbekPresident said specifically that ‘the threat…coming to us from the south’was aimed at both Uzbekistan and Russia. He also told Russian PrimeMinister Viktor Chernomyrdin that Russia and Uzbekistan faced acommon enemy in Wahhabism, which, he claimed, provided theideological underpinning of nationalists in the northern Caucasus and ofthe opposition in Tajikistan.19 In August 1999, however, bringing Karimov’sreservations regarding Russian great power chauvinism to their logicalconclusion, Uzbekistan pulled out of the CIS collective security pact andjoined GUAM, the association of Georgia, Ukraine, Azerbaijan and


Moldova that was designed to constrain Russian imperialism. Yet, in thevery same month, members of the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan movedinto the Batken region of Kyrgyzstan from the Karategin Valley in easternTajikistan, inducing Kyrgyzstan to approach Moscow for further securitycooperation. Russian Defence Minister Igor Sergeev thereupon visitedTashkent, where he stated that Russia would send weapons, ammunitionand other equipment, though not troops, to Kyrgyzstan to resolve the crisis.Indeed, following Putin’s appointment as Prime Minister, relations betweenRussia and Uzbekistan seemed to have improved, and by December 1999Russia, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan and Tajikistan were actively backing theanti-Taliban alliance in Afghanistan in a bid to keep the radical Sunnimilitia away from their borders. In January 2000, the last three countriestogether with Kyrgyzstan took part in a meeting with Putin in which theyemphasized that their primary concern was combating terrorists andextremists. Karimov and Kazakhstan President Nursultan Nazarbaevreportedly proposed a programme for fighting terrorism and religiousextremism across the CIS.20

After being elected President in March 2000, Putin continued in the samevein. In mid-April the police and security chiefs of the Shanghai Five—Russia, China, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan—agreed that theTaliban constituted a meaningful threat to regional stability. They decidedto consolidate ‘military ties for joint strikes against nationalist separatismand religious extremism, internationalist terrorism and the protection ofregional security and stability’. Russia began establishing an air defencenetwork in central Asia to duplicate Western uses of air power for punitivemeasures in Afghanistan in 1998 and in Kosovo in 1999. In May, RussianForeign Minister Igor Ivanov asserted that ‘acts of terror and other actionswhich could damage the interests of Russia and its partners in central Asiaare being prepared on the territory of Afghanistan’. At the same time aKremlin spokesman highlighted an agreement allegedly reached betweenrepresentatives of the Taliban and of Chechen President Aslan Maskhadov,the international terrorist Osama bin Laden and Juma Namangani, head ofthe outlawed IMU. While Karimov and Nazarbaev expressed reservationsconcerning a Russian pre-emptive strike against Afghanistan as suggestedby Moscow, they did not rule out the bombing of that country inretaliation of an Islamic military offensive; Kyrgyzstan President AskarAkaev even favoured a pre-emptive strike.21 Karimov’s doubts evidentlyemanated from fears that Uzbekistan would be the direct victim of theTaliban’s countermeasures to Russian aggression.22

In summer 2000, the IMU struck again. This time, the fighting began inthe mountainous region of Surkhandarya in southern Uzbekistan and soonspread into neighbouring Kyrgyzstan, taking on the form of a regionalcrisis.23 The IMU deployed different tactics from those of the previousyear: rather than mounting a major offensive, they now chose to launch


small-scale incursions and to attack villages and military posts over a largerarea. On 14 August 2000, the IMU announced, a list of demands to theUzbek government, including the release of all IMU members imprisoned inUzbekistan, the reopening of all mosques shut down by the Uzbekgovernment, the imposition of Shari’a law and the sanctioning of Muslimdress.

On the same day the Uzbek, Kyrgyz and Tajik governments formed ajoint headquarters in the Leninabad/Sugd region of Tajikistan tocoordinate their response to the new offensive. Russia quickly becameinvolved, and on 20 August the leaders of these three states met withKazakh President Nazarbaev and Russian Security Council Secretary SergeiIvanov. All five parties pledged the commitment of their governments totake decisive measures to crush ‘terrorist action’.24

The Russians claimed that the insurgents were being successful owing tothe poor coordination of the military efforts of Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan andTajikistan. Presumably, this contention was designed to justify Russia’srole in solving the crisis. Karimov, for his part, and to some extent alsoAkaev, sought to internationalize the crisis in order to establish themselves,in both Russian and Western eyes, as the last barricade preventing militantIslam from marching westwards. The secretary of Kyrgyzstan’s SecurityCouncil claimed that the IMU was backed by international terroristorganizations, including Osama bin Laden’s al-Qaeda, and that its aim wasto destabilize central Asia and increase drug trafficking from Afghanistan.Karimov also insinuated that a direct link existed between CaucasianIslamic radicals and the IMU. Karimov’s theory of Uzbekistan as a wallpreventing the spillover of radical Islam into Russia was intended toencourage Russian and Western aid. It in no way indicated that he ceasedfearing a scenario in which Russia would use the Islamic factor as a pretextto regain a tight grip on central Asian and Uzbek politics.

Following 11 September 2001, the US government embarked on anoperation to ‘uproot’ international terrorism. Initially, the Russianadministration expressed its support for the USA and offered tocooperate in the task of combating terror, but as soon as speculationstarted about Afghanistan being the target of the upcoming Americanattack, the Russian government began stating reservations concerningAmerican military involvement in central Asia. On 14 September 2001,Russian Defence Minister Sergei Ivanov pointed out that ‘central Asia iswithin the zone of competence of the CIS Collective Security Treaty. I seeno reason whatsoever, even hypothetical, for any suppositions aboutconducting NATO operations from territories of central Asian countries,members of the CIS.’25 Putin, dreading the possibility of the Americansgaining influence in a historically Russian-dominated zone, dispatchedSecurity Council Secretary Vladimir Rushailo to discuss with the central


Asian leaders the issue of granting Washington bases, overflight rights andintelligence sharing.

As the dust began to settle, the Russian administration began to searchfor ways to use the new international situation to its advantage. Moscow’smain goal was to depict the Chechen as part of an international terroristconspiracy.26 The Russians also tried to coordinate the global war onterror through the UN and thus deprive NATO of its leading role in thecampaign. Putin and Foreign Minister Ivanov realized that in order toachieve these objectives, it behoved them to mitigate their approach on theissue of American military deployment in central Asia. On 19 September,Ivanov said that every member country of the CIS had the right to decidefor itself whether to allow other countries or alliances to make use ofmilitary bases on its territory.27 On 24 September, Putin declared thatMoscow would send weapons to opposition forces fighting the Taliban inAfghanistan and would open its airspace to humanitarian flights by the US-led anti-terrorist coalition, and hinted that Moscow would not object tothe USA using air bases in central Asia.28

Although Condoleeza Rice, US National Security Adviser, stated on 15October 2001 that Washington did not intend reducing Russian influencein central Asia through its military operations against Afghanistan, theRussians appreciated that they had to loosen their grip on central Asia soas not to be alienated from the international anti-terror campaign.

For the central Asian leaders, the American-led campaign against theTaliban regime created new political opportunities. In addition to beingconducive to the letting up of pressure regarding their abuses of humanrights, Karimov’s and Akaev’s pleas to the West for aid in their ‘war onterror’ were now answered with American aid.29 The possibility of amilitary alliance with the Americans would also provide an alternative forthe central Asian governments who had been strongly dependent on theRusso-Chinese-dominated Shanghai Cooperation Organization (theShanghai Five changed its name when Uzbekistan joined the pact in June2001).30

In conclusion, then, Islam has been an important component in Russia’srelations with the new central Asian states. Whether we accept or reject therhetoric that has accompanied the recurrent joining of forces between thegovernments of Russia and central Asia in order to counter the ‘threat ofIslamic extremism’, there is no way of denying that Islam played a centralrole in creating a pretext, if not a reason, for a continued Russian presencein central Asia. To quote one scholar: ‘the use of labels like“fundamentalist” and “Wahhabi” and playing on unpleasant memories ofthe war in Afghanistan are a significant factor in encouraging uncriticalalarmism about the purported Muslim menace’ and goad Russia intoplaying a more confrontational role not only in the northern Caucasus butalso in central Asia.31 It provided a common language for Russia, as it


forged its policy towards the near abroad, and the local, central Asianregimes, particularly Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, where the Islamic threat’ isdeemed most real. The central Asian states, as they seek to consolidatethemselves and adopt the form of government they consider most viablepolitically, all consider their stability to be endangered by developments inAfghanistan. And until September 2001 only Russia seemed likely, in theirview, to be able to save them from any such menace. Moscow, for its part,was only too keen to encourage and build up this image. In summer 2002the question is whether and how Russia will recover its leadership role ifand when the US lets up its newly won position in central Asia.

NOTES

1. This chapter relates only to Russia’s relations with the new states of formerSoviet central Asia.

2. V.V.Naumkin, ‘Rossiia i Islam’, in Sovremennyi islam: kul’tura i politika(Moscow, 1994), p. 156.

3. Ibid., p. 157.4. Gregory Gleason, ‘Uzbekistan: The Politics of National Independence’, in Ian

Bremmer and Roy Taras (eds), New States, New Politics: Building the Post-Soviet Nations (Cambridge, 1997), p. 590; and Islam Karimov, Uzbekistanon the Threshold of the Twenty-first Century (Richmond, Surrey, 1997), pp.22–6.

5. Muriel Atkin, ‘Islam as Faith, Politics and Bogeyman in Tajikistan’, inMichael Bourdeaux (ed.), The Politics of Religion in Russia and the NewStates of Eurasia (London, 1995), p. 261.

6. The party’s participation in government was the outcome of the compromisereached between President Rahmon Nabiev—another former republican firstsecretary (1982–85)—and the opposition in spring 1992.

7. Atkin, ‘Islam as faith, politics and bogeyman’, pp. 262–3.8. Mohiaddin Mesbahi, ‘Tajikistan, Iran and the International Politics of the

“Islamic Factor”’, Central Asian Survey, vol. 16, no. 2, 1997, pp. 146–7.9. Mohiaddin Mesbahi, ‘Russian Foreign Policy and Security in Central Asia

and the Caucasus’, Central Asian Survey, vol. 12, no. 2, 1993, p. 190.10. Mesbahi, ‘Tajikistan, Iran and the International Politics of the “Islamic

Factor”’, p. 147. Also Lena Jonson, ‘Politika Rossii v Tsentral’noi Azii naprimere Tadzhikistana’, Tsentral’naia Aziia, vol. 2, no. 8, 1998, p. 87. Fordetails of Russia’s involvement in Tajikistan, see Muriel Atkin, ‘Tajikistan:Reform, Reaction, and Civil War’, in Ian Bremmer and Roy Taras (eds), NewStates, New Politics: Building the Post-Soviet Nations (Cambridge, 1997), p.613; and The Rhetoric of Islamophobia’, Central Asia and the Caucasus, no.1, 2000, p. 124.

11. Irina Zviagelskaia, The Russian Policy Debate on Central Asia (London,1995), pp. 10–12.


12. Kadir Alimov, ‘Uzbekistan’s Foreign Policy: in Search of a Strategy’, in RoaldZ.Sagdeev and Susan Eisenhower (eds), Central Asia: Conflict, Resolutionand Change (Chevy Chase, MD, 1995), p. 193.

13. Atkin, ‘Islam as Faith, Politics and Bogeyman’, p. 263.14. Atkin, ‘The Rhetoric of Islamophobia’, p. 127. Two veterans of the Afghan

war, Defence Minister Pavel Grachev and Aleksandr Lebed’, were among theproponents of this position.

15. Karimov, Uzbekistan on the Threshold, ch. 4, esp. pp. 34–9.16. For Karimov’s position, see above.17. Viacheslav Nikonov, ‘Politika Rossii v Tsentral’noi Azii’, Tsentral’naia Aziia,

vol. 2, no. 8, 1997, p. 57.18. In the early 1990s, hundreds of young Chechens and Dagestanis were said to

have studied in underground medreses in the town of Namangan in theFerghana Valley, some of whom, such as Salman Raduev, later became‘rebel’ field commanders. See Sodruzhestvo NG, vol. 6, no. 7, 1998, p. 11.

19. Atkin, ‘ZThe Rhetoric of Islamophobia’, pp. 127, 129. Wahhabism is anepithet widely used in Moscow and elsewhere to depict Islamic extremism.The accuracy of the term is irrelevant to our study.

20. Radio Free Europe (hereafter RFE), 31 August, 1 and 3 September and 10December 1999 and 26 January 2000.

21. Theodore Karasik, ‘Russian Threat to Strike Afghanistan Tests Central AsianPartners’, Turkistan Newsletter, vol. 4, no. 125, 22 June 2000.

22. Steve LeVine and Owen Matthews, ‘Is Putin Picking a Fight withAfghanistan?’, Newsweek, 5 June 2000.

23. Yaacov Ro’i, Islam in the CIS: A Threat to Stability? (London, 2001) p. 78.Western news agencies reported that Putin placed a telephone call toPresident Bush on 12 September 2002 offering him assistance in the fightagainst terror and instructed his staff to assist the Americans. See RFE/RadioLiberty (hereafter RL), Newsline, 13 September, 2001.

24. Ro’i, Islam in the CIS, pp. 79–80.25. Vladimir Socor, Wall Street Journal Europe, 21 September, 2001, as quoted

in Turkistan Newsletter, 24 September 2001. See also RFE/RL, Newsline, 17September, 2001.

26. According to Russian sources, the Russian security services claimed to haveinformation proving that one of the terrorists involved in the 11 Septemberbombings in the USA had participated in the Chechen war. They alsocontended that Chechen militants were linked to Arab finance and had ties tobin Laden. See RFE/RL, Newsline, 20 September, 2001.

27. Ibid.28. RFE/RL Weekday Magazine, 28 September 2001.29. Uzbekistan, for example, was to receive US$160 million in 2002, an increase

of US$100 million from previous years. RFE/RL Weekday Magazine, 31January 2002.

30. Kyrgyzstan’s agreed to grant the USA access to an airbase near Bishkek inorder to assist anti-terrorist operations. The agreement followed a declarationof the Shanghai Cooperation Organization several months before that calledfor the establishment of an anti-terrorist centre in Bishkek to host a jointSino-Russian military force. The establishment of the US base in Bishkek,


along with other US military cooperation agreements with central Asianstates, blocks the establishment of a Sino-Russian condominium in centralAsia. Central Asia-Caucasus Analyst, biweekly briefing, 27 February 2002.

31. Atkin, The Rhetoric of Islamophobia’, p. 132.


14Russia in the Middle East: The Yeltsin Era

and Beyond1

ODED ERAN

In his address to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Russia on 12 May 1998,President Boris Yeltsin argued that Russia had inherited from the SovietUnion a ‘unidimensional power’ namely, ‘a military might placed on a notvery solid economic foundation’. The task of Russian foreign policy, saidYeltsin, was to remedy this disproportion, adding that ‘economicdiplomacy is coming to the fore in our foreign policy’ and that Russiashould enter the world market where it can be most competitive: thearmaments market.2 While this statement is quite revealing as to theRussian conduct towards the Middle East (and for that matter other regionsof the world) in the last decade of the century, it is certainly not the wholestory. Prioritizing economic imperatives over strategic goals is just one oftwo notable reversals of the Soviet Cold War perspective regarding thatarea. The other one has to do with ethnogeography: post-Soviet Russiashifted much of its attention and inputs from the Arab-Israeli zone andrefocused them on two countries that had not been Soviet allies during theyears of Soviet-American confrontation: Turkey and Iran.

One might argue that there is nothing new in Russia’s perception ofTurkey and Iran as the two most essential countries in the region.Historically speaking, the tsarist empire, as well as the pre-Second-World-War Soviet Union, had concentrated their political, diplomatic and, attimes, military pressures on these two states, viewing them as thegatekeepers to the area. The Soviet’s leap-frogging over them into the Arabworld, as of the mid-1950s, resulted not only from the rising opportunitieswithin the Arab nationalist regimes but also from the uninviting politicalcircumstances in these two nations. Turkey has been a constant member ofNATO and a founding member of the regional anti-Soviet militaryalliance. The Shah of Iran, for his part, before he was overthrown by theIslamic revolution, had been a strategic ally of the USA, while therevolutionary regime that followed him showed, maybe for the first timeduring the Cold War, that breaking with Washington did not mean anautomatic affinity with Moscow. To be precise, in the last 20 years of itsexistence, while the Soviet Union had been working hard—and with somedegree of success—to improve its relationship with Ankara and Teheran,

the strategic relationship with the Arab client states nonetheless remained,all along, the focal point of Soviet conduct in the region.

This pattern vanished together with the Cold War. Turkey and Iran havere-emerged as the centre of Russian regional attention, although notnecessarily for the old historical motives. Post-Soviet Russia values thesenewly found regional acquaintances for reasons of economics and politics.To begin with, Turkey and Iran are its largest and most lucrative tradingpartners in the area, capable of servicing their commercial debts, not tomention granting Russia convenient lines of credit. In the reality of a cash-starved Russian economy and the imperative to keep industries—thedefence industries included—going, this must be an overwhelmingconsideration. In 1997, the volume of Russian-Turkish trade reached US$10 billion. In 1998, Moscow and Ankara signed a US$20 billionagreement to supply Russian natural gas to Turkey. A 750-mile pipeline,named Blue Stream, is being laid on the Black Sea bed (construction startedin February 2000) Blue Stream will link the southern Russian town ofIzobil’noe to Ankara and increase the sale of Russian natural gas from 7billion cubic metres a year to 30 billion by 2010. Ankara, for its part, hasprovided Russia with hundreds of millions of dollars of loans in order toboost Turkish exports, primarily textile products, to Russia.3 Turkey hasalso become the first member of NATO to purchase some Russian militaryhardware.4

Likewise, the Iranian economy has become a fountainhead of hardcurrency for Russia, and probably for individual Russians. The Russianmilitary industry has in recent years supplied to Iran four Kilo-typesubmarines, and the Russian civilian nuclear industry has alreadycompleted the construction of an US$800 million nuclear reactor in Busherand signed agreements for three more, for US$4 billion. Russia continues tocovet the Iranian conventional arms market, and the opportunities that itoffers seem irresistible to Russian economic planners. In November 2000,Russia informed the US government that it had decided to withdraw froma secret understanding, from 1995, between Vice-President Al Gore andPrime Minister Viktor Chernomyrdin to stop conventional arms sales toIran (implementation of existing contracts was excluded). Reportedly,Russia is willing now to go ahead with a lucrative deal, allowing theIranians to assemble, under licence, MIG-29 combat airplanes and T-72Ctanks, risking US sanctions.5 What is less clear is the nature and volume ofRussian involvement in the lucrative Iranian military, nuclear and ballisticmissile, projects. US and Israeli sources claim that there is a constant flowof technology and technological know-how from the Russian militaryindustrial complex and scientific establishment to the Iranian militaryprojects, which could significantly shorten the time that Iran would need toacquire weapon-usable fissile material. Furthermore, Iran is reportedlyworking hard on the development of long-range ballistic missiles, not to

RUSSIA IN THE MIDDLE EAST 153

mention that twice, in 2000, Iran tested the Shehab-3 medium-rangemissile. The Russian government claims that it has done its best to curbthat flow, which allegedly is unauthorized and peddled by private andindividual interests. If measures were indeed taken, they do not seem tohave been effective. The Iran Nonproliferation Act of 2000, signed by USPresident Bill Clinton on 15 March, allowed the administration to imposesanctions on ten Russian firms and their scientists who are, allegedly, topproviders of sophisticated weapon technology and material to Iran.6

Nonetheless, its effectiveness remains doubtful as we are dealing with anextremely profitable business.

Of course, the volume of trade and cash flow do not tell the whole story.Russia regards Turkey and Iran as priority countries not the least becausetheir interests and its own are intertwined in an area and issues that extendbeyond the scope of this chapter: the politics and oil economics of centralAsia and the Caucasus. The economic perceptions and considerations ofthese two nations regarding that regional context are often not agreeable toMoscow. Also, these two Muslim neighbours are potentially contenders aswell as possible collaborators with Russia in the competition for influencein the ethnic/religious mix of central Asia and the Caucasus. It should beborne in mind that Russia has strongly pursued its claim to include theseformer Soviet territories in the realm of its security and political interests.Thus far, however, no serious conflict has developed between Russia andthese two nations related to that geographic web. With the exception ofsome limited Turkish political involvement in Azerbaijan and intrinsicsensitivity towards the Chechen crises, no major political drive into theselands was evident on the part of Ankara. On the other hand, some degreeof Iranian acquiescence, if not collaboration, with Russian interests wasmanifest, particularly in the case of Tajikistan.7

The conspicuous shift in Russian priorities towards Turkey and Iran isconcomitant with overtures towards other countries of the region whichhave no recent record of any significant relationship with the Soviet Unionbut may, nevertheless, offer Russia lucrative trade opportunities. Russiandefence industries have been shopping for markets in the Gulf States, butunlike in the case of Turkey and Iran, only with limited success. As Kuwaitcannot be regarded as a novice to Russian armaments, Russia’s only realachievement is with the United Arab Emirates, where it managed toconclude a US$3 billion deal.8

Israel is another case in point, though for diversified reasons. Thevolume of trade between the two countries has never reached the levels ofthat with Turkey or Iran. Thus far, it has ranged between US$300 and US$700 million annually, though the potential of the Israeli economycontinues to attract attention in Russia.9 As a veteran Russian expert onthe Middle East said recently: ‘We want commercial relations with Israel,as its economy is bigger than the economies of Egypt, Jordan, Syria and


Lebanon put together.’10 More essential to the relationship betweenMoscow and Jerusalem are the 1 million former Soviet citizens who haveemigrated to Israel in the past 30 years. This mass of Russian-speakingemigrants has become the largest ex-Soviet diaspora in the world.Furthermore, they have become, in a sense, a power broker in Israelielectoral politics. This vibrant and still growing community is activelycontributing to thriving and multifaceted relations between Russia andIsrael.11 Russia attains two main political benefits from the newlydiscovered acquaintance with Israel: one is regional, reinforcing Russia’sclaim to be a legitimate party to the peace process; the other goes beyondthat and is more elusive. Having experienced the role of Israel, and of theAmerican-Jewish community, on the issue of freedom of emigration forSoviet Jewry during the Cold War, Russian leaders appear to perceiveIsrael as capable of influencing the US government and Congress.

While the demise of the Soviet Union led the new Russia to reprioritizeits bilateral relations with the countries of the region, leaning primarilytowards Turkey and Iran, it would be wrong to argue that Moscow lost itsinterest either in the Arab world in general or in the Arab-Israeli dispute inparticular. What Russia actually lost is the political and military leveragepreviously enjoyed by the Soviet Union in that part of the Middle East. Thecontraction of Moscow’s empire, with the concomitant shrinkage of theRussian power projection and political influence capabilities, has created avacuum. The volume of diverse Soviet activities and military presence isalmost all gone, certainly dwarfed in comparison with the pre-1992 levels.Nonetheless, by discarding regional confrontation with the USA, Russiahas not given up its long-harboured claim to the status of a Middle Easternpower. The Russian navy has kept its access contract to the port facilitiesof Tartus in Syria (the only other ‘foreign base’ that it still contracts is in theCam Rahn Bay in Vietnam).12 In February 2000, Russia sent anothersignal of interest by dispatching an intelligence ship, the Kildin, from itsBlack Sea naval base of Sevastopol, with the mission of monitoring thesituation in the Mediterranean and the Gulf.13 Notwithstanding, since1992, Russia’s conduct, particularly towards the Arab and Arab-Israelizone of the Middle East, has been epitomized by fairly unsuccessfulattempts to rebuild its leverage on regional politics, as well as by exercisesin redefining the legitimacy of its claim.

Generally speaking, since 1992 we have seen two versions of Russianbehaviour in that zone of the Middle East. To be precise, the first one hadappeared in the last years of the Soviet Union and lasted for about twoyears after the implosion. It was embodied by open, if somewhat reluctantsupport, for American regional policies. This line was initiated by the teamof President Mikhail Gorbachev and Foreign Minister EduardShevardnadze and culminated with the Russian vote in the UN SecurityCouncil to authorize the military measures against Iraq. The team of


Yeltsin and Foreign Minister Andrei Kozyrev continued along the samepath, giving its blessing to the US-sponsored efforts to resolve thePalestinian-Israeli dispute and terminate the formal state of war betweenIsrael and Jordan. Despite the weakening of Russia’s regional muscles, itsceremonial participation in the peace process was acceptable to all thepertinent partners: the US government, Israel, Jordan and the Palestinians.By bringing Russia in, Washington probably had in mind encouraging theYeltsin regime to continue along the path of economic reforms andstrengthening him against his—and Kozyrev’s—domestic critics. By then,the latter was already perceived by the opposition as the epitome ofhumility before the West. A more regional perspective may have been toget Russia to subscribe to political arrangements that it might otherwisechallenge in the unforeseeable future.

Nevertheless, Russian participation in the signing ceremonies of the OsloAccord between Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organization inSeptember 1993, and later in the peace treaty between Israel and Jordan inAqaba in October 1994, was somewhat pathetic, which did not gounnoticed at home. At that time the nationalist and communist opponentsof the President were vexing Kozyrev on a whole range of foreign policyissues. In view of the growing criticism to the effect that a submissiveRussia was trying to please the USA, it was becoming harder and harder tocling to the ‘pro-American’ line. Furthermore, popular resentment againstthe liberal economic reforms, combined with the prospect of theparliamentary elections scheduled for December 1995, dictated the needfor more vigorous international behaviour. These domestic pressuresstarted to show in Yeltsin’s policies on a variety of subjects.

Actually, the story of Russian foreign conduct since then cannot beconveyed without appreciating the interaction between internal politicalconstraints and external needs. In the Middle East the change becameevident in 1994. For the first time, Russia called for the lifting of theinternational sanctions against Baghdad and denounced theAmerican bombing of Iraq that year. Almost simultaneously it called forthe termination of the sanctions against Libya. In addition to its inherentdisdain towards American muscle-flexing in the Gulf, Russia has anobvious economic interest in abolishing the UN sanctions against these twocountries, enabling them to resume arms purchases from Moscow, not tomention service their debts from the Soviet period, estimated at US$7billion in the case of Iraq and US$3 billion in the case of Libya.14 (Thesanctions against Libya were indeed cancelled in 1999.) The new look ofRussian foreign policy, which was obvious in a spectrum far broader thanthe Middle East, was of little political help to Yeltsin as the December 1995elections resulted in a communist-dominated Duma. Yeltsin, who had nointention of reversing the reform line as demanded by the communists,made one significant concession to the ‘red brown’ majority in the Duma:


he replaced Kozyrev with Evgenii Primakov as Russia’s Foreign Minister.In a way, the compensation for not withdrawing from the path of reformswas found in a more independent-minded foreign policy which catered tonationalist sentiments.

Primakov’s ascendancy was felt immediately across the board. In theMiddle East, Russia’s strong and explicit opposition to unilateral Americanmilitary measures against Iraq, which had first emerged in 1994, becameconstant, manifesting itself in October 1997, in early 1998 and again in1999. This stance gave Russia, and Primakov personally, a kind ofmediator status, which enabled him, at least in 1998, to claim the credit forplaying a pivotal role in delaying a military showdown with Iraq.

However, there was another dimension to his conduct towards the area,which did not pay off as well: it was the pretence that Russia was still asuperpower with good leverage on regional politics, as if statements ofintention, a show of activity and much diplomatic motion would suffice tobring business back to usual. Primakov lost no time in projecting the imageof renewed Russian activism in the Arab-Israeli space, impressing uponobservers that Moscow could still pull some strings. The two yearsfollowing his appointment as Foreign Minister witnessed an increasedvolume of Russian diplomatic activity in this zone. Primakov arrived in thearea twice, in November 1996 and October 1997, visiting Israel, thePalestinian Authority and the neighbouring countries. Reportedly, in thelatter visit, he transmitted messages between Israeli Prime MinisterBinyamin Netanyahu and Syrian President Hafez Al-Assad, displaying hisability to provide good services on the basis of real or imaginary Russianleverage over Syria.15 On a different occasion, in May 1997, he wasreported to have intervened in the Lebanese crisis, trying to persuade Syriaand Iran to terminate their support for the Hizballah.16 In November ofthat year, Primakov appointed the late Viktor Posuvaliuk as special envoyto the Middle East, matching the American emissary DennisRoss. Primakov organized 1997 as a year of pilgrimage by senior MiddleEastern dignitaries to Moscow: Chairman Yasser Arafat, Prime MinisterNetanyahu, the Lebanese Premier, the Syrian Foreign Minister, CrownPrince Hassan of Jordan and Egyptian President Husni Mubarak all arrivedin the Russian capital. The limits to this ‘photo-op’ policy were particularlyevident in the case of President Assad’s visit to Moscow in July 1999,which took place after Primakov’s brief term as Prime Minister (fromSeptember 1998 to his dismissal by Yeltsin on 12 May 1999). This was thefirst visit of the Syrian President to the Russian capital since the collapse ofthe Soviet Union, and at first it seemed as if the old friendship betweenMoscow and Damascus had been fully restored. A US$2 billion arms dealwas discussed between the sides. Nonetheless, as soon as it became clear tothe Syrians that Russia was no longer prepared to provide the generouscredit for the Syrian purchase that had been customary during the Soviet


period, the euphoria dissipated.17 Furthermore, if a Syrian-Israeli peaceagreement is concluded in the foreseeable future, Syria will probably beinclined to switch alliances and turn to the USA for arming its militaryforces. As Syrian debt to Russia is estimated at US$10–13 billion,18 it doesnot seem that the Russian economy will receive significant cash injectionsfrom trading with Syria.

Primakov’s predilection for trumpeting an imminent Russian comebackto the Middle East and his fondness for making hollow statements,disregarding the fact that Russian ability to influence politicaldevelopments in the area had sunk to its lowest ebb since the mid-1950s,did not enhance Moscow’s regional stature. Neither intense diplomaticactivity nor even Primakov’s personal skills at statesmanship could havetransformed Russia’s current predicament. Adapting an Arab proverb:Primakov’s tongue was by far longer than his hands.

Primakov’s dismissal as Prime Minister had no effect on Russia’s interestin the Arab world in general or in the Arab-Israeli dispute in particular. Tobe sure, Primakov’s fanfare style has gone, but Russia’s basic claim to beinvolved in regional politics remains. To cite just one example, during thevisit to Moscow of Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak shortly after hiselection, President Yeltsin indicated to him that Russia was interested in acentral role in the peace process, offering again his good services inpromoting the Israeli-Syrian negotiations.19 It goes without saying thatYeltsin’s resignation from the presidency in December 1999 hardly changedthis pattern. In February 2000, Moscow co-hosted the multilateral MiddleEast talks and, later that month, Foreign Minister Igor Ivanov telephonedthe Foreign Ministers of Israel, Egypt and Syria to discuss with them thetroubled peace process. During the violent events that took place betweenIsrael and the Palestinian Authority in October and November 2000,Ivanov twice arrived in the region, visiting Syria, Lebanon, Israel and thePalestinian areas, looking for some role for Russia in the diplomatic effortsto reinstate the peace process.20 Russia remains consistent in pursuing itshistorical claim while acknowledging that its leverage in the area is greatlyreduced.

The concept of historical claim suggests continuity, and, indeed, the longand almost uninterrupted sequence of Russian interest in the Middle Eastsince the nineteenth century is obvious. Tsarist Russia claimed strategic andreligious concerns, while the Soviet Union emphasized strategic andideological considerations. Although similarities to the past can bediscerned in the way that the new Russia is making its case for the MiddleEast, an element of innovation is apparent as well. Naturally, since post-communist Russia has discarded its global confrontation with the West, itcan no longer argue in the name of anti-imperialism. Those who seek somesense of mission, which had been so evident in Tsarist and Soviet foreignpolicies, might perceive Yeltsin’s visit to Jerusalem to celebrate the


Orthodox Christmas, several days after his resignation from thepresidency, as signalling a renewed religious attachment and interest ofRussia in the Holy Land. Nevertheless, while being reminiscent ofnineteenth-century Russian claims, the argument of religious affinitycannot be as effective a policy tool at the beginning of the twenty-firstcentury.

Perhaps the best way to understand current Russian conceptions on avariety of international issues is to consult the official materials. In July2000, Vladimir Putin’s government published its newly approved ForeignPolicy Concept, outlining Russian objectives in the international arena ingeneral and in the Middle East in particular. This document becameavailable just a few days after President Putin’s address to the FederalAssembly in Moscow.21 Both texts are quite instructive of the newperspective guiding current Russian thinking on the outside world. Putinmakes it clear that the Concept ‘stipulates the supremacy of internalobjectives over external ones…[and] that this policy is based onpragmatism, economic efficiency and priority of national objectives’. Hesingles out ‘international terrorism and the direct attempt to move thisthreat inside the country’ as a major challenge to Russia’s ‘statesovereignty, territorial integrity’. Consequently, what emerges from thetext of the Concept, in general terms, is that, in our times, Russia is aninwardly looking country, interested in curing its ailing economy andworried about external instability. Relating specifically to the Middle East,what transpires is that Russia’s top objective in that geographical space ispolitical stabilization for the purpose of forestalling the spillover of politicaland military crises endemic to the region into the volatile areas of centralAsia and the Caucasus, inside Russia and out, in its ‘near abroad’. Addingto that goal Russian economic interest in the richness of that area,presumably, first and foremost, in its richer countries, the Concept presentsa regional approach profoundly different from the past Soviet perspective.Although there had always been some economic angle to Soviet courting ofthe Arab nations, this is a glaring departure from the solidarity with theArab ‘revolutionary’ regimes. The focus is no longer on the nature of thepolity in a specific country but on purely commercial considerations.

How would this perspective affect the future conduct of Russia in theArab Middle East? There is no reason to believe that Russia will revert tothe tamed policies of the Gorbachev-Shevardnadze or the Yeltsin-Kozyrevteams, either in this area or anywhere else in the world. In all likelihoodRussia will continue to conduct itself according to its distinct interests,conflicting occasionally with the interests of other Western nations (such ascompetition for the area’s arms markets) and manifesting its disdaintowards any show of force on the part of the USA. Having said that, thedaunting economic crisis facing Russia, as well as the volatile religious/ethnic web inside Russia and within its defence perimeter in central Asia


and the Caucasus, augur strong Russian interest in a politically stableMiddle East. Unlike its predecessor the Soviet Union, which made itsinroads into the Arab world by challenging the existing Western-orientedpolitical order and supporting the revolutionary trend, the new Russia ismore likely to seek an alliance with the existing order, shying away fromextremism. While the imperatives of the Russian economy dictateprioritizing relations with the oil-wealthy Arab countries, the agenda ofpreserving its integrity as one nation-state, as well as maintaining itsinfluence in the newly independent southern republics, portends strongantipathy towards Muslim extremism. Samuel Huntington projected amore conflictual relationship between the (Russian-led) Orthodox and theMuslim civilizations in the twenty-first century.22 Soviet and Russianexperiences with assertive Islamic orientations have been rather traumatic.Afghanistan is not just a bitter memory of the Soviet defeat. A very realthreat to the stability in central Asia, from fundamental extremists, is stillemanating from this country, not to mention Chechnya, which is likely toremain a ‘bleeding wound’ for a long time to come. (Russia’s interest instability in the core of the Muslim world may be analogous to tsaristinterest in maintaining the conservative order in Europe throughout thenineteenth century, when any revolutionary wind was perceived as a threatto its autocratic regime.)

In sum, then, the new leadership of Russia will continue to take an activeinterest in the Middle East but is not likely soon to regain the leverage onregional politics enjoyed by the Soviet Union. Furthermore, economicailments and intermittent threats to the territorial integrity ofthe motherland, and to its ability to project influence into the southern‘near abroad’, portend the supremacy of the domestic perspective inRussian decision making towards the Middle East in the foreseeable future.

NOTES

1. The preparation of this article was made possible by a grant from theMemorial Foundation for Jewish Culture.

2. ‘President Yeltsin’s address to Russian diplomats’, International Affairs, vol.44, no. 3, 1998, pp. 1–6.

3. Agence France-Press (hereafter AFP), Turkey, 27 August 1998; Reuters,Istanbul, 25 August 1998; AFP, Moscow, 18 August 1999; AFP, Turkey, 23October 2000.

4. Robert H.Donaldson and Joseph L.Nogee, The Foreign Policy of Russia:Changing Systems, Enduring Patterns (New York, 1998), pp. 254–6.

5. Reuters, Moscow, 25 November 1998 and 2 February 1999; Reuters,Washington, 28 November 2000; Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty(hereafter RFE/RL), Moscow, 28 November 2000. See also Shai Feldman,


The Return of the Russian Bear’, Strategic Assessment, Jaffee Centre forStrategic Studies, Tel Aviv University, April 1998, pp. 1, 12–16.

6. Reuters, Washington, 17 December 1998; AFP, Teheran, 10 Decmber 1998;Reuters, Washington, 5 February 1999; Reuters, Moscow, 3 August 1999;New York Times, 3 August 1999; Ha’aretz, 13 September 1999; Reuters,Washington, 6 October 2000 (including a statement by American Secretaryfor Nonproliferation Robert Einhorn).

7. Najam Abbas, ‘A Marriage of Convenience: The Emerging Tactical AllianceBetween Iran and Russia’, Analysis of Current Events, vol. 2, no. 5/6, 1999,pp. 10–12.

8. Donaldson and Nogee, The Foreign Policy of Russia, p. 261.9. Robert O.Freedman, ‘Russia and Israel under Yeltsin’, Israel Studies, vol. 3,

no. 1, Spring 1998, pp. 140–69; Russian Ambassador to Israel, Ha’aretz, 15November 2000.

10. Alexei Vasilev, ‘Brown Bag’ lunch presentation, The Middle EasternInstitute, Columbia University, April 1999.

11. Oded Eran, ‘Russian Immigrants, Russia, and the Elections in Israel’,Analysis of Current Events, vol. 2, no. 5/6, 1999, pp. 13–15.

12. Interview with Vice-Admiral Victor Patrushev, Itar-Tass, Moscow, 10 August1999.

13. Reuters, Kiev, 16 February 2000, and Moscow, 5 February 2000.14. ‘Russia and the States of the Middle East/Political Economic Relations’ (in

Hebrew), (unpublished ms) Israeli Foreign Ministry, Research Department,22 March 1998.

15. Feldman, The Return of the Russian Bear’, pp. 1, 12–16.16. Ibid.17. Ha’aretz, 29 January, 8 February, 7 and 10 July 1999; AFP, Moscow, 20 July

1999; Reuters, Moscow, 8 July 1999; Ma’ariv, 23 July 1999; Russianambassador to Israel, Ha’aretz, 15 November 2000.

18. ‘Russia and the States of the Middle East’; Ha’aretz, 29 January and 17 July1999; Reuters, Damascus, 11 June 1998; Russian ambassador to Israel,Ha’aretz, 15 November 2000.

19. Ha’aretz, 3 August 1999; New York Times, 3 August 1999.20. Reuters, Moscow, 23 February 2000; Reuters, 10 October 2000; Russian

Ambassador to Israel, Ha’aretz, 15 November 2000.21. The discussion is based on the following documents: ‘Foreign Policy Concept

of the Russian Federation’, translation from IRA Novosti, Johnson’s RussiaList, 14 July 2000; ‘Russian President’s Address to Federal Assembly’, BBCMonitoring Service, reprinted in Johnson’s Russia List, 9 July 2000; AFP,Moscow, 10 July 2000.

22. Samuel P.Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of theWorld Order (New York, 1997).


Part V:

Rethinking the Far East

15Russia between Europe and Asia: Some

Aspects of Russia’s Asian Policy

MIKHAIL G.NOSOV

One of Russia’s problems is that of identity, or, to be more precise, howthat identity is perceived by the outside world. Many consider Russia to bea European country, while others think it is a part of Asia. In September1999, a poll conducted by Moscow radio revealed that 79 per cent ofRussians consider Russia to be a European country, while 21 per centidentify themselves with Asia. This reflects the situation in which themajority of the population belongs, or considers itself as belonging, to theSlavs, who by language, culture and mentality belong to Europe. However,the European part of Russia is also inhabited by Tatars, the second largestnationality in Russia, as well as by Chyvashes, Bashkirs and many othernationalities which by their origin, culture and religion are Asian. In theAsian part of Russia, where only about 21 per cent of the Russianpopulation live, the majority are Slavs, although the percentage of Asians ishigher there than in the European part of the country.

Historically, Russia passed through a long period of evolution from asystem of state and economic management that was purely of Asian origintowards the basic principles of European state structure. As the father ofRussian Marxism Georgii Plekhanov said in 1889, ‘when Peter the Greatopened a window on Europe he attached European hands to Russia’s Asianbody’. More than a century later the process of Russia’s ‘Europeanization’is still under way. At present the concept of Europeanization no longercarries the connotation of detachment from Asian traditions, but ratherfollows the Japanese definition of internationalization. Russia in that senseis making attempts to correlate its state structure in accordance withuniversal ethics and principles. Thus, for Russia, Japanese managementwould be considered Europeanization regardless of Japan’s geographicallocation.

It is quite obvious that Russia will pursue its orientation towardsEuropean culture, which itself is contending with a blend of Asian,African and Latin American cultures. In Russia the prevalence of Europeanculture is intimately connected with the obvious domination of OrthodoxSlavic culture which leans strongly towards Europe. At the same time,

Russia, by virtue of its unique geographical position and ethnicpeculiarities, has a real chance to become the spiritual and economic bridgeconnecting Europe and Asia. This is not only because Russia can promote agreater understanding of Asia in Europe and Europe in Asia, but mainlybecause of Russia’s participation in the integration processes taking placeon both continents and the creation of the preconditions for their broadinteraction. This development is first and foremost important for Russiaitself. It is vital to create conditions in which not only Russia will beinterested in expanding its interaction with the external world, but theworld too will seek partnership with Russia.

Europe and Asia have been trying for a long time to institutionalize aprocess of cultural and economic interaction. These efforts are taking placethrough the channels of bilateral ties and by the means of a neworganization ASEM (Asia-Europe Meeting), which is devoted to enhancingthe dialogue between the two continents. Unfortunately, Russia does notparticipate in the activity of ASEM, although, by virtue of its geographicaland ethnic characteristics, it could play an important role in it. In manyrespects this lack of involvement is the result of the persistent Eurocentricorientation of Russian policy.

The dualism of Russia’s Eurasian stance strongly influences its foreignpolicy. Since 1992, Russian policy has been oriented towards the West.Despite some successes in its relations with China and Japan, Russia’sdiplomatic efforts were mainly aimed at Europe and America. In a situationin which the economic factor can adversely affect the level of relationsbetween countries, Russia’s trade with Asian countries is less than 10 percent of its turnover, while Russia’s share of Asian trade does not exceed 1per cent.

What is the driving force behind Russia’s Eurocentrism? Obviously Asiais still far from becoming a high priority issue in Russian foreign policy.Russia’s prime goal is an unceasing attempt to bring the USA and Europeancountries to take the interests of Russia into consideration. In economicterms it is associated with Russia’s efforts to seek integration into the global,specifically European, market. In political and military terms, it meansenhancing relations with the USA and Europe as well as opposing NATO’senlargement accordingly. This process runs against a background of Russia’sgradual loss of its economic and political leverage. Those objectives barelytouch on Russia’s economic relations with Asia. In fact there are no Asiancountries on the list of its principal creditors. Having acquired formalmembership in regional organizations, Russia lacks the will to legitimize itsposition. In view of its strong defence posture on the Far East, the Russiangovernment has little concern for the problems of regional security. Thethreat posed by NATO’s extension in the West is far more acute. All thesecircumstances combine to downgrade the Asian element of Russian foreignpolicy.


However, it is obvious that a stable balance between the ‘European’ and‘Asian’ policies should be achieved. This does not mean having to choosebetween London and Beijing, or Tokyo and Berlin—diplomatic initiativesshould be promoted in both directions. Therefore, if Russia were tobecome a bridge connecting Europe and Asia, this would facilitate abalance of political priorities.

Such a bridge evidently requires a firm economic basis. Transportationand communication could become key elements of such a policy. Russia’sassets include a developed transportation network, advanced means ofspace communication and a vast territory. The shortest route from Europeto Asia lies through Russia, which could control the conveyance of goodsall the way from producers to recipients. The benefit of a transport bridgeis beyond doubt: transit deliveries account for more than 40 per cent of thetotal amount of service export in the Netherlands. The shortest routebetween the two continents—the Great Northern Route—may thus be animportant element of a Eurasian bridge. Unfortunately, conveyance by theTrans-Siberian Railway has dropped more than sevenfold compared with1991, contributing to the deterioration of the situation in the Russian FarEast.

Russia’s collaboration on the Eurasian bridge project would galvanizethe economy of the regions housing the transport arteries and increasetrade between Russia, especially the Russian Far East, and the Asia-Pacificregion. An upswing in trade would further Russia’s political and culturalties with both Europe and Asia. It might help the Russian economy, now ata low ebb following a lengthy period of poorly planned reforms whichhave particularly affected the Russian Far East, to recuperate.

Table 15.1 Changes in economic indicators of four Pacific countries, 1990–97

Source: Calculated on the basis of B. Bolotin ‘International Comparison: 1990–1997’,Mirovaia ekonomika i mezhdunarodnye otnosheniia, no. 10, 1998, pp. 118–19,122–3, 126–7.

RUSSIA BETWEEN EUROPE AND ASIA 165

16Putin’s Foreign Policy: Transforming ‘the

East’

RICHARD SAKWA

INTRODUCTION

The debate over Russian foreign policy in the 1990s tended to focus on asingle stark polarity: Atlanticism versus Eurasianism. This in turn was adebate over the attitude towards and meaning of ‘West’ and ‘East’. TheWest was susceptible to a number of geographical and ideologicalinterpretations: geographically, there was a tension between the Americanand the European versions; while the ideological ambiguity of the Westwas reflected above all in the tension between perceptions of the West as amilitary (primarily NATO) identity or as a zone of capitalist prosperity.

The identity and perception of the East was no less multilayered. At leastthree Easts can be identified. The first saw the East as a zone ofgeopolitical contestation and affirmation. While the West may have beendominated by America, in the East, Russia could reaffirm itself as a greatpower. The main actor here was China, and the rhetoric of a Sino-Russian‘strategic partnership’ was an attempt to establish a counter-balance to anincreasingly fraught relationship with the West. A second interpretation ofthe East focused more on geo-economics, with recognition that the PacificRim had overtaken the Atlantic basin as the centre of global economicactivity and increasing prosperity. Despite the economic crisis in the regionin the late 1990s, the economic success of the ‘Asian tigers’ stood in starkcontrast to Russia’s continued struggle to come to terms with modernityand modernization. The chronic under-development of the Russian FarEast would require investment from Asian countries, above all Japan, aswould the effective exploitation of the energy reserves on Sakhalin.1 Thethird East is a geo-ideological one in which the East represents not only aspiritual alternative to Western materialism but a broader alternative to theWest in general. Although India would play a role in such a version of theEast, it was Russia itself that sought to become emblematic of thistendency.

With the accession of Vladimir Putin to the acting presidency inDecember 1999, however, the conceptualization of both East and West

began to be rethought. While Russian foreign policy under the stewardshipof Evgenii Primakov (Foreign Minister between January 1996 andSeptember 1998, and then Prime Minister from September 1998 to May1999) can be characterized by the notion of pragmatism, under Putin a’newrealism’ emerged. It will be recalled that Primakov, both as ForeignMinister and as Prime Minister, repeatedly stressed his non-partisanapproach to issues. The slogan of the Primakov government, like his periodin office as Foreign Minister, was pragmatism. While suggesting a non-ideological approach, pragmatism is itself deeply embedded in anideologized practice. A pragmatic strategy in economics assumes an activerole for the state, while in foreign policy it suggested that the aims wereclear and only the means were to be regulated by the much-vauntedpragmatism. Although Primakov’s pragmatism in practice was relativelyflexible and continued many features of the allegedly super-liberal era ofRussian foreign policy management under Andrei Kozyrev (1990–96),those elements that were distinctively Primakovian harked back to anearlier Soviet era.

Equally, while many of the elements of Putin’s new realism were alreadyin motion under Primakov and even earlier, in particular under Kozyrev,with Putin’s accession to the leadership there was a much sharperrecognition of the limits of Russian power, grounded above all in economicweakness. This did not mean giving up aspirations to global influence, butit did mean the pursuit of a far more conscious attempt to match ambitionsto resources.

THE NEW REALISM: A THIRD WAY BEYOND EASTAND WEST?

It is conventional to talk of a battle between two Russias. The first Russiais the liberal one, inalienably part of Europe,2 what Alexander Yanov hascalled Decembrist Russia.3 The second Russia is one where geopoliticalconsiderations rule supreme and trample the development of civil society; itis one based on the striving to achieve the restoration of territories like theCrimea and Sevastopol, confrontation with the West and autarchiceconomic policies. This is the Russia that Yanov dubs Slavophile.

A third way in foreign policy began to emerge. At its base was an attemptto negotiate a new path between Gorbachev’s and Kozyrev’s perceiveduncritical Westernism, and the sullen rejectionism offered by thecommunist opposition and its rather more urbane but equally ineffective‘pragmatic’ variant offered by Primakov. A blueprint for the new ‘thirdwayism’ was offered by Sergei Karaganov’s Council for Foreign andDefence Policy in a document, the fruit of 14 months of discussion betweennumerous working groups encompassing some 100 individuals, in April

TRANSFORMING ‘THE EAST’ 167

2000. The document talked in terms of a more focused foreign policy and‘selective engagement’.4

At the base of Russian foreign policy already under Yeltsin but far morepronounced under Putin there lay a specific attempt to reforge ‘the East’.The concept of ‘the East’ encompasses both the actual East, howeverdefined, but perhaps more importantly tries to theorize the idea of an Eastthat was not West but at the same time that was not opposed to the West.The end of the Cold War was followed by the unalloyed supremacy, indeedtriumphalism, of ‘the West’. Endless Russian and Chinese talk about theneed to restore a multipolar world reflected concern about the unbalancedworld system that had emerged as a result of the disintegration of the USSR.However, while we had become accustomed in the past to talk in terms ofthe East-West conflict, the new self-conceptualization of ‘the East’ that isemerging brings together a number of themes that are not necessarily inconflict with the West. Instead, the East, in so far as we can conceptualizePutin’s nascent foreign policy, emerges as a distinctive value system thatdoes not necessarily undermine the universal principles of human rightsand democracy but provides a way to make the universal agenda agenuinely universal project.

The tension between universalism and particularism has been apparentthroughout Russia’s often disastrous engagement with modernity andmodernization, and the post-communist experience was only the lateststage in this ambivalent relationship between Russia and the West, betweentradition and modernity. In the past, Russia’s messianism took the form ofthe espousal of communism as an alternative route to modernity; today, onestrand of Russian foreign policy casts the country as a victim ofglobalization, a Third-Worldist perspective espousing multipolarity andresistance to American dominance. It should be noted that ‘multipolarism’reflects an ‘orientalist’ strain in Russian foreign policy, promoted inparticular by the Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR), headed between 1991and 1996 by the specialist on the Middle East, the ‘orientalist’ Primakovand then by another orientalist, Viacheslav Trubnikov.

From this perspective, Russia appears to have achieved a transition fromthe Second to the Third World. Associated with this approach is Russia’simplicit adoption of the ‘Asian values’ agenda, where democracy andhuman rights are subordinated to developmental tasks and where priorityis granted to order and discipline rather than to individual liberty. Thesecond Chechen war, beginning in September 1999, allowed the rhetoricabout the ‘terrorist’ threat to overshadow and even to threaten democraticconsolidation. Russia, indeed, did face a grave threat from the Checheninsurgency, but the federal response endangered the tenuous and hard-fought liberties of Russian citizens, not least in the Caucasus itself.However, as with so many developments under Putin, the evidence ismixed. For example, the appointment of Sergei Lebedev in May 2000 to


head the SVR put an end to the rule of the orientalists. Lebedev hadbecome known to Putin while working in Germany, and his experiencewas of the West alone. It was likely that the SVR, whose role in foreignpolicy formation had by 1998 probably exceeded that of the ForeignMinistry itself, would now diminish, and thus that some of Russia’saggressive posturing on NATO enlargement, Iran, Iraq and Serbia, couldbe modified.

It was in this context that various terms were employed to describe themultifaceted reality that was Putin’s early foreign policy. Some talked interms of engaged isolationism. I argue that some notion of a newEasternism perhaps captures the reality more effectively. The new East inthis understanding is complementary and not in conflict with the West, andthus a distinctive third way would open up between, on the one hand, thetraditional Cold War confrontation between East and West and, on theother, the unabashed reduction of modernization to Westernization. This isthe potential of the ‘new realism’; it may, of course, not be fulfilled. Anynumber of factors could derail Russia’s attempts to forge a newrelationship with its Western and Eastern neighbours while at the sametime rethinking the priorities of its own national identity. While East-Westrelations as a distinctive subject may have gone, ‘the West’ remains arelatively coherent subject of international politics while ‘the East’ hasfragmented. At the base of the geo-ideological conception of Putinism is anattempt to re-create something larger than Russia alone, a new Easternpole in a multipolar world, while allowing Russia autonomy to develop asa state and economy.

THE NEW REALISM AND THE THREE EASTS

Each of the three Easts identified above—geopolitical, geo-economic andgeo-ideological—in turn sustains Russia’s own developing understandingof itself as the exemplar and representative of an Eastern pole, in contrast(although, as stressed above, not necessarily in conflict), with the West.The new conception of the East as the site of complex interactions in whichRussia should be involved takes many forms and involves many aspects. Letus take a look at the three identified above.

Geo-ideology

There is no shortage of Russian thinkers who have tried to set Russia up asthe representative of an Eastern world. For example, the philosopherA.S.Panarin examined recent Russian history in the framework of the maintrends of world development. Panarin argued that world history had swungfrom a Western phase of development to an Eastern one, representing ashift from an emphasis on technological change towards spiritual revival,


towards a post-economic and post-material period. With the exhaustion ofsocialism and liberalism the West has no new idea to offer the world. In itssearch for a new way, Russia, he argued, was redefining its values and itsresponse to the Western challenge.5

This was no longer an Easternism that was provoked by the failure tobecome Western, but an attempt to forge an alternative to Westernmodernity in its entirety. It also represented a move beyond the ‘bridge’metaphor of Russia linking East and West to an affirmation that Russiawas a destination in itself. After all, a bridge is designed to be trampled on.As Andrei Zagorskii had noted several years earlier, the Eurasianist notionof Russia between East and West was a bridge leading nowhere.6

Under Putin, it was the geo-ideological aspect of the East that becamemore prominent. The geopolitical element, and in particular the idea of astrategic partnership with China, was swiftly deemphasized (see below).7

Amid much speculation that Putin’s first visit abroad following hisinauguration on 7 May 2000 would be to an Asian country, the symbolismof his journey to London via Minsk and returning via Kiev was lost on noone. The fact that Putin’s first foreign visit was to London suggested that ifthere were to be a strategic partnership with anyone, it would be withBritain. The contrast with Gorbachev’s continued idealism is striking.During perestroika, Gorbachev had repeatedly argued that the capitalistand socialist worlds could transcend their rivalry yet remain distinct andcontinue to develop in parallel. Echoes of this parallelism resound in theconcept of the new Easternism, whose code words are multipolarity,multilateralism, and the like, yet Putin did not allow the conceptualizationto get in the way of pragmatic deal making. The difference betweenGorbachev and Putin was that the latter well understood the nationalsubject with which he was concerned: Russia, with a defined (althoughevolving) set of national interests. Gorbachev, on the other hand, by about1989, had lost all sense of the USSR as a subject of history with any realnational interests of its own, and hence became increasingly reactive andconcessionary in foreign policy.

Towards a Russian third way and the transformation ofthe East

Viktor Sheinis argued that victory in the December 1999 Duma electionswent to the ‘quasi-centre’.8 The basic policy orientation of this quasicentre,in so far as it has one, is right-wing economics and left-wing politics:economic liberalism accompanied by statist great power politics. Thissuggested not only a continuation of privatization and other economicreforms, but also the continued iron grip of the bureaucracy over the‘market’. According to Sheinis, the elections revealed ‘the minimalmovement towards a self-sustaining civil society’ and ‘the separation of the


political class from the deep layers of society’. This gulf between the powersystem and society was something noted by many other commentators.This is why Sheinis’ notion of a quasi-centre is so suggestive. It does notcome from a historical convergence on the centre ground of policy, butfrom the opportunistic cooptation of politics to ensure regime survival.

A genuine third way, in the manner of Giddens,9 is derived not simplyfrom the repudiation of idealized notions of left and right, reflected intraditional class politics, but from attempts to create a genuinely radicalpolitics of the centre. This is not a trivial political project, although much ofthe writing and commentary about the subject is indeed trite. Theargument here can be reduced to the following. While the third way in theWest is an attempt to come to terms with the apparent exhaustion oftraditional social democracy and represents an attempt to renew it,Russia’s third way, or genuine politics of the centre, is drawn from anolder tradition: liberal conservatism. Writers like Peter Struve and SemenFrank are drawn on to sustain the emerging consensus over a Russian thirdway based on support for the reconstitution of state authority whilecontinuing market reforms and international economic integration. This isthe basis of the new Easternism.

The manifesto presented by Vladimir Putin in the last days of 1999reflected the old theme of liberal conservatism but in a dramaticallymodern idiom—both in form and content, with the document firstappearing on the internet.10 Putin talked frankly about Russia’scomparative economic backwardness and condemned not only the faults ofthe Soviet system but challenged its very status as a modernizing regime.He stressed that an enormous effort would have to be undertaken to putRussia back in the front rank of developed powers, but insisted that Russiawould have to do this in its own way. The nature of the increased role ofthe state in the economy remained unspecified, but the need for a newindustrial policy to develop key branches of the economy and to stamp outcorruption was stressed. As for politics, the manifesto emphasized thetraditional role of the state in Russian life but insisted that this wascomplementary to the development of democracy and human rights.

In his manifesto and in later speeches Putin was evidently trying to movebeyond traditional amorphous definitions of centrism towards a moreradical future-oriented model. How different this was from Primakov’scentrism is a matter of dispute. Putin in the Duma elections sought topresent himself as a symbol of confidence and stability, promising tomaintain Russia’s system of power and property while radically renovatingthe state system and giving political and legal reform a great boost withinthe framework of the existing constitutional settlement. Putin’s policieswere characterized by contradictory formulations. His policies focused onan unstable mix of statist market-oriented moderate centrism combining acommitment to democracy with the appeal to strong leadership while


drawing on both Slavophile and Westernizing ideas. Good relations withthe West were to be based on genuine partnership rather than Russiankowtowing to Washington. The essence of Putinism as a politicalprogramme was the attempt to construct a dynamic and future-orientedpolitics of the centre. By definition, such a programme was in danger ofbecoming amorphous to the point of meaninglessness; but it also had thepotential to transcend traditional divisions and to lead the country on to abalanced developmental path conforming to native traditions whileencouraging integration into the international community.

Although Ludwig von Mises always argued that there was no third wayor third system between the Soviet and the American forms of socialorganization, today, with the end of the Cold War and the ideologicalconfrontation between East and West, the possibility of testing out avariety of paths is more relevant than ever. We do not need to think interms of only a third way, since there is no reason (as Lord Dahrendorf hasstressed) not to think in terms of a fourth, fifth and ever more ways.However, in my conception the notion of a third way is specific to theattempt to overcome the traditionally polarized nature of Russian politicsbetween socialism and capitalism, between market and non-market,between individualistic and collectivist approaches to social development,between Slavophilism and Westernism, and above all between Atlanticismand Eurasianism. In that sense, a third way represents not an abstractionbut a specific response to Russia’s self-identity and problems ofdevelopment today.

This was already apparent in the December 1999 parliamentaryelections. The election marked a turning point in Russian politics in that,for the first time in a decade, there appeared to be a near universalconsensus (as reflected in the various manifestos and programmes) insupport of a distinctively Russian path of development. The extremesof left and right were rejected but the actual content of Russia’s third wayremained vague. In economics, a post-Washington consensus had emerged,what we may call a Moscow consensus. The Washington consensus, theterm coined by John Williamson to describe the neoliberal policies adoptedby a number of Latin American states in the mid-1980s, focused on fiscaland monetary discipline, currency convertibility, price and tradeliberalization and the privatization of state enterprises.11 These policieswere then adopted to varying degrees by India and other countries that hadpursued socialist-inclined developmental strategies. Economies were openedup to international influences and domestic monopolies broken up andprivatized. In the post-communist countries this was accompanied by greatfalls in economic activity, with Russian GNP halving by 1995 and thenhovering between recession and growth until plunged into renewed crisis inAugust 1998 and then recovering on the back of a fourfold ruble


depreciation that made imports expensive hence encouraging importsubstitution.

In economic terms, the Moscow consensus modifies the Washingtonconsensus but means continued engagement with the internationaleconomic system and financial organizations, attempts to service the debtand reach a negotiated way of dealing with it, the attempt to maintainmacroeconomic stability by harsh fiscal measures, and in general a retreatfrom threats of renationalization, unilateral actions and virulentprotectionism. The Moscow consensus now stretched from the liberalsthrough to the Communist Party of the Russian Federation (CPRF), whoseeconomic programme for the parliamentary elections was framed by thewell-known critic of Yeltsinite economic policies, Sergei Glaz’ev. The onlyserious organizations stepping beyond the bounds of this consensus werethe nationalists (for example, the Congress of Russian Communities[KRO], headed by Dmitrii Rogozin) and the radical left. Rogozin went onto head the Third Duma’s Foreign Affairs Committee and adopted arobustly patriotic approach to international affairs.

The radical rejectionists of market-oriented reform had beenmarginalized, and the main issues in the centre of policy debate hadbecome questions of tactics and not of strategy. This is a measure of thedegree to which the 1990s had been a harsh learning experience for manyof the Russian political elite; the majority understood that any attempt toachieve quick fixes outside the constraints of the emerging consensus wouldhave unpredictable and probably dire consequences. The mainmodifications of the Washington consensus focus on a more active socialpolicy, a stronger state role in establishing a more friendly investmentclimate to achieve the recapitalization of the economy, and less tolerance ofofficial corruption.

Geopolitics

In foreign policy the traditional centre of the Russian national securitydebate in the 1990s had been occupied by the ‘statist’ views reflected in theconcept of Eurasianism. The National Security Concept of December 1997had insisted that the greatest threats to Russia’s security came not from theinternational system but from various internal threats. This liberalism,however, was tempered by the continuing insistence that Russia was not asubordinate member of the international community but a major playerwithout whose active participation no political, economic or securityproblem could be resolved. The document acknowledged the threat posedby NATO enlargement but insisted that effective multilateral means forcooperation remained, like the Organization for Security and Cooperationin Europe (OSCE), in which Russia remained central as the only trulyEurasian power.12


The new National Security Concept signed into law by Putin’s decree of10 January 2000, however, was less sanguine about the externalenvironment.13 The use of NATO with an unclear UN mandate to enforceattempts to stop Serbia’s violation of Kosovan human and political rights,together with NATO enlargement, the aftershock of the August 1998economic crash that revealed Russia’s vulnerability to speculativeinternational financial markets, strategic arms control tensions andrenewed war in Chechnya, all conspired to a rethinking of theinternational environment. The new document expanded the list ofexternal threats to Russia’s security, noting in particular the weakening ofthe OSCE, the UN and the CIS. The tension between the emergence of amultipolar world, in which relations are based on international law and anacceptance of a significant role for Russia, and the attempt by the USA andits allies to carve out a unipolar world outside of international law, wasstressed. There was no longer talk of partnership with the West but insteadan emphasis on more limited ‘cooperation’. As in many official documentsof the Putin era, the search for international recognition of Russia’srightful place in the world was a dominant theme:

Russia is perceived to be one of the largest countries in the worldwith a long history and a rich cultural tradition. As a result of itssignificant economic, scientific-technological and military potential,Russia continues to hold a unique strategic position on the Eurasiancontinent irrespective of the complex international situation anddifficulties of an internal character. Objectively, it is asserted, Russiacontinues to play an important role in world affairs.14

The main problem in Russia’s relations with NATO, as Putin noted, wasthat ‘we do not feel ourselves to be full-blooded participants inthe process’.15 The new Military Doctrine (replacing the 1993 version) thatwas approved by presidential decree on 21 April 2000 represented years ofinterdepartmental wrangling, but it also revealed many of Russia’sunderlying concerns. It noted the ‘attempts to weaken (ignore) existingmechanisms for ensuring international security (above all the UNO andOSCE)’, and ‘the use of coercive military actions as means of“humanitarian intervention” without the sanction of the UN SecurityCouncil, regardless of generally accepted principles and norms ofinternational law’.16 Russia’s search for recognition was reflected in thecomment that one of the main external threats was ‘the attempt to ignore(infringe) the Russian Federation’s interests in the resolution of problemsof international security, and to oppose its strengthening as one of theinfluential centres of a multipolar world’.17

It should be noted that, in March 2000, the Security Council adopted adraft version of a new Foreign Policy Doctrine. In the words of Foreign


Minister Igor Ivanov, it was ‘significantly broader, more realistic and closerto the needs of the country’ than the previous version.18 At the samemeeting of the Security Council on 24 March, Putin had once againstressed that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was to be the maincoordinator of foreign policy; and he then went on to give the SecurityCouncil, headed by Putin’s long-time colleague Sergei Ivanov, a far higherprofile. The new Doctrine, however, for long remained unpublished. Itappeared to have stressed the need for Russia to win new markets in ‘thirdcountries’ (i.e. not Western), and reflected the significant input of Russia’smultitudinous security agencies.

The East as a counterhegemonic formation

Speaking at a conference on the Middle East in Moscow on 1 February2000, Putin argued that ‘it is unacceptable to cancel such basic principlesof international law as national sovereignty and territorial integrity underthe slogan of so-called humanitarian intervention’.19 Russia appeared nowto stand as the champion of an anti-universalistic agenda. Opposition tothe idea that the international community had a right to intervene whengovernments were guilty of abusing their own population entailed arepudiation of much of the drift in international politics since the SecondWorld War. On this and other occasions, Putin insisted that the principlesof territorial integrity and national sovereignty should take priority overhumanitarian intervention. The complement to Russia’s anti-universalismwas its espousal of what it sought to portray as a rational consensus basedon international law and multilateral institutions, above all the UN. Theconcept of a multipolar world as espoused by Russia had a somewhatconfrontational edge.

While Russia’s earlier attempts to use the CIS as the basis for a counter-European project had met with ignominious failure, anti-humanitarianismappeared a more viable basis on which to try to build a counterhegemonicbloc. While the former focused on opposition to NATO enlargement, andthus was a largely negative phenomenon, anti-humanitarianism could beseen to be a more generalized defence of the rights of states. Under thesecircumstances Russia was in danger of being perceived as the friend of‘pariah states’, like Iraq under Saddam Hussein and Serbia under SlobodanMilosevic. The Western response to the visit of the indicted war criminal,the Yugoslav Defence Minister Dragoljub Ojdanic, to Moscow in late May2000 obviously took Russia by surprise, and the visit was later explained,unconvincingly, as the result of a mix up.20 The fact that Russia found itnecessary to distance itself from the visit suggested a responsiveness to theconcerns of the West and a realistic appreciation of the political costsRussia would incur if it stepped too far out of line with the US-dominated‘hegemonic consensus’. More broadly, Russia’s long-held commitment to


multilateral institutions like the OSCE became rather less apparent afterthe Istanbul summit of that body in November 1999. Russia was severelycastigated for the behaviour of federal forces in Chechnya. Consequently,Russia’s earlier advocacy of the creation of a European Security Councilwas shelved.

It must once again be stressed that the attempt to create ‘the East’ as thecore of this counterhegemony based on a rational consensus, anti-universalism and multilateralism does not necessarily have to take an anti-Western form. Putin repeatedly emphasized his aspirations for goodrelations with the West. The East was conceptualized as an alternative butcomplementary modernity. This was the way that Gorbachev hadconceived of his renewed socialism, and it remains to be seen whether thisnew variant on the old theme of the third way will be any more successful.

Representations of the East meet the real East

Russia repeatedly stated the view that its presence in Asia was a ‘factor forregional stability’. For most of the late 1990s, Russian diplomacy sought toforge an Indian-Chinese-Russian triangle as a counterbalance to the US andNATO.21 The Indian link in this chain was always the weakest, but eventhe Chinese one was beset with contradictions. While I shall emphasizehere the geopolitical element, it should be noted that the success of China’s‘four modernizations’, launched by Deng Xiaoping in 1979, especially incontrast with Russia’s travails in the 1990s, meant that the Chinese path ofmodernization in which the Communist Party acted as the instrument ofcapitalist restoration, appeared attractive to many in Russia.22 However,the exaggerated shift towards close relations with China, somethingencouraged by Primakov, was largely a reaction to NATO enlargement anda way of ‘cocking a snook’ at the West. As Jonathan Steele pointed out,‘Russia needs good relations with its largest Asian neighbour, but to makethem a lever for solving problems in other regions is dangerous.’23

Meeting with the Chinese Foreign Minister Tang Jiaxuan, in Moscow on1 March 2000, Putin declared that relations between Moscow and Beijing‘resolve the problem of stability in the world on a global scale as much asthey do in bilateral relations’.24 At that time there was much speculationover whether Putin would make his first official visit to China, Japan orIndia, and the fact that these three eastern countries were at the top of avery long list was significant. At the very time that Putin was meeting inMoscow with the Chinese Foreign Minister, a high-powered Russiandelegation was in China headed by Deputy Prime Minister Il’ia Klebanov,responsible for Russia’s defence industrial complex, and including theMinister of Atomic Energy Evgenii Adamov, the Minister of Trade MikhailFradkov, the Minister of Fuel and Energy Viktor Kaliuzhnyi, as well as thehead of the Russian space agency Iurii Koptev. These five vividly reflected


the main spheres of Russia’s civilian economic relations with China.Klebanov actively discussed the issue of arms sales with top Chineseofficials. There were even suggestions that military-technical cooperationhad deepened significantly following the war in Kosovo, with up to 2,000Russian specialists working in Chinese laboratories on advanced weaponsprojects.25

With both Russia and China emphasizing the need for a multipolarworld and a mutual commitment to the territorial integrity of states (thatis, Chinese support for Russia’s war in Chechnya and Russia’s support forthe ‘one-China’ policy that claims Chinese sovereignty over Taiwan), therewere plenty of points in common in the Russian and Chinese view of theworld. The Russo-Chinese link was built on a number of shared concerns:the struggle against unipolar hegemonism; against humanitarianinterventionism (the principle of non-interference in internal affairs);26

Islamic secessionism (Chechnya, Kosova, Xinxiang); arms sales; oppositionto NATO enlargement; basic economic links; some mutual acceptance ofRussia’s hegemony as a guarantor of order in Eurasia. However,Primakovian talk of a strategic alliance with China reflected a basic lack ofunderstanding of the way that China conducts its foreign policy; its refusalto enter into multilateral alliances. In addition, despite a long sharedborder, trade between Russia and China remains low, totalling only US$6billion in 1999 and putting Russia in ninth place as a trading partner, farbelow the US$66 billion between China and Japan and the US$62 billionbetween China and the USA. In a broader context, Russian GNPrepresented only 1.4 per cent of the world total, and without Westernsupport it was unlikely to improve significantly. The concept of a strategicpartnership suggests mutual unconditional support, something that neitherChina nor Russia was ready to commit to.27

Moreover, there were many points of tension in the relationship. Theterritorial issue concerning three islands on the Rivers Argun’ andKhabarovska had not yet been resolved. There were rumours that Putinhad signed a secret decree suspending the transfer of sensitive militarytechnology and know-how to China. Moscow was concerned that Chinawas buying Russian military technology and know-how while avoiding thepurchase of large ready-made stocks of military hardware.28 Already, oneof the world’s most advanced fighter planes, the SU-27, was beingassembled in China. In other words, the perception in Moscow was thatChina sought to achieve technology transfer to develop its own defenceproduction capabilities while lessening its dependence on Moscow. It wasclear that sections of the Russian military and political elite harbouredconcern over a potential military threat from China. Putin’s attempts tomend relations with NATO was obviously not greeted with enthusiasm inBeijing and could provoke a downswing in Sino-Russian relations. WhileChina had earlier enthusiastically joined with Russia in condemning NATO,


there was no immediate cause for the Chinese to be alarmed by Russia’sengagement with NATO, although Russia’s membership in that body, assuggested by Putin in his interview with David Frost (albeit ‘as equals’),29

would be another question. It would also make NATO another type oforganization, one that had become more of a political and less of a militaryorganization, and there was no evidence that the existing members wishedto see such a transformation in NATO’s role.

Already during the visit of the Chinese Foreign Minister mentionedabove, there had been a noticeable shift in the rhetoric away fromoverblown Primakovian talk of a strategic partnership between Moscowand Beijing towards a more modest and far more realistic emphasis ontechnical and economic ties between the two countries.30 The shift inrhetoric marked a change in Russia’s foreign policy priorities vis-à-visChina. American plans for a National Missile Defence (NMD) scheme toprotect the USA from missile attacks together with plans for thedeployment of a theatre missile defence (TMD) system in the westernPacific provoked China into adopting a US$10 billion package forstrengthening its nuclear capabilities. Moscow had long supported China’sopposition to the proposed US-Japanese TMD system in Asia, while Beijingsupported Moscow’s opposition to any weakening of the ABM treaty. Atpresent, China has only some two dozen strategic missiles capableof hitting the North American mainland, making them vulnerable to even alimited NMD system. The Chinese build-up affected not only the USA butalso Russia. China’s predominance in conventional weaponry is offset byRussia’s nuclear strength, but this could be eroded. Fears about thevulnerability of Russia’s vast but underpopulated Russian Far Eastneighbouring China’s land-hungry population endowed the psychologicalclimate with anxiety. Russia’s membership of G8, moreover, and China’scontinued exclusion could not but add a hint of bitterness to therelationship.

It should be noted that China has signed 17 international conventionsand protocols on human rights, and thus any attempt to use China as abattering ram against the emerging universalist consensus on the value of ahuman rights regime is at the very least ambivalent. It was not theprinciples of universalism, as such, that China criticized, but their selectiveand instrumental application by the world’s hegemonic powers. Above all,the whole notion of a multipolar world, according to Karaganov, head ofthe Council for Foreign and Defence Policy, suited Chinese rather thanRussian interests since it drew Russia into the stand-off between China andthe USA. He urged Russia to give up the superpower-style politics that ledRussia into confrontation with the rest of the world and to recognize thatin promoting multipolarism Russia ‘was only an instrument wielded byChina’.31


Traditional ties between Moscow and Hanoi were renewed as part of themodification of Russia’s alleged earlier obsession with Atlantic relations. Onhis visit to Hanoi in February 2000 Igor Ivanov, Primakov’s successor asForeign Minister, talked about the need for the two countries once again toraise their relations to the level of a strategic partnership.32 This was onlythe second time a Russian Foreign Minister had visited Vietnam since thefall of communism in 1991; the first had been by Andrei Kozyrev in 1995.The 25-year lease on the former US base at Cam Ranh Bay was due to endin 2004, and Russia was concerned to maintain a presence there, althoughperhaps on a lower level. The Vietnamese debt to Russia of some US$17billion was the subject of some anxiety on both sides. As for South Korea,the latter sought Moscow’s help in normalizing relations with Pyongyang.Moscow, however, primarily saw South Korea as a potentially lucrativearms market, in part to offset Russia’s US$1.8 billion Gorbachev-era debt.As so often in Russia’s attempts to enter new markets, the US sought toprotect its own markets by a mix of economic and diplomatic coercion.33

Russia’s attempts to restore its international influence under Putin could,however, allow it to play a greater mediating role in the affairs of thepeninsula.

The real test for Putin’s relations in Asia would be his ability tonormalize relations with Japan. Japan had invested considerable efforts inbuilding up a constructive relationship with Yeltsin, and now it was facedwith the challenge of starting anew with Putin. However, there wereadvantages that had not been available earlier—above all, a more reliableinterlocutor with a stronger domestic base. There was also the personalfactor. A telephone conversation of early March 2000 reported by theJapanese media between the then Japanese Prime Minister Keizo Obuchi,and Putin ran as follows: Obuchi: ‘Please wear your judo black belt whenyou come to Japan’. Putin: ‘I’ve been practising judo for the last 20 yearsand I can’t help but love Japan. I can’t help but love Japanese culture andphilosophy. The relationship between Japan and me, if I may describe it ina Russian way, is not something that was established in a minute.’34

Whether Russia and Japan would be able to sign the much-awaitedbilateral treaty by the end of 2000, as promised by Yeltsin and the thenJapanese Prime Minister Ryutaro Hashimoto in 1997, remained very muchin doubt. The fundamental obstacle to the improvement of bilateral tiesremained: the status of the Kurile Islands. It was clear that Japanese PrimeMinister Obuchi was anxious to improve relations with Russia, asevidenced by the apparent reversal of Japan’s earlier condemnation ofRussian actions in Chechnya during the visit of Ivanov to Tokyo inFebruary 2000.35 The meeting between Putin and the new Japanese PrimeMinister Yoshiro Mori, in St Petersburg on 29 April 2000, helped lay thefoundations for further discussions towards the conclusion of a formalpeace treaty ending the Second World War. The resolution of the


territorial issue, however, could only be achieved by concessions on bothsides.

The revenge of geopolitics

It was clear that Eurasianism had died, both intellectually andgeopolitically. It was unable to sustain a coherent foreign policy. However,just at the time that Russia began to reject the logic of geopolitics, the USAappeared resolutely to advance it. While Russia had become a partisan ofgeopolitical pluralism, the USA was perceived by many to have developedever more layers to its hegemonic ambitions.36 It appeared that the post-Cold War world had been unable to sustain the Helsinki approach tointernational order and instead there appeared to be a trend towards areturn to the politics of Yalta: small countries appeared not to matter. Thiswas the great failure of the post-Cold War world. Of course, depending onthe circumstances, small countries do matter. The institutionalmarginalization of the OSCE in the post-Cold War era reflected a largerfailure to sustain the politics of Helsinki.

The great strategic problem facing Russia was the challenge of foreignpolicy diversification by its former brother Soviet states. As noted, it wasclear that the CIS had failed to become the great counter-Europeaninstitution that some in Moscow had hoped it would. In September 1995,for instance, Moscow had tried to transform the CIS into a security body torival NATO, in response to the enlargement of the latter, but thevociferous opposition of most other CIS states meant that the CIS couldnot become the kernel of a new Eastern project. Instead, Russiaconcentrated on bilateral relations with former Soviet states, above allforging ever closer links with Belarus. The CIS as an institution, despiteperiodic attempts to revive it, atrophied.37

On Russia’s southern flank the emergence of the GUUAM organizationin 1998, bringing together Georgia, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan andMoldova (Uzbekistan joined in April 1999), was an implicitly anti-Russianalliance. At one time it looked as if, with American support, GUUAMwould be able to push back Russian influence in the region. However, therelative failure of GUUAM, with almost no achievements to its credit otherthan resisting Moscow’s attempts to revise the Treaty on ConventionalForces in Europe, showed how central Moscow was to the region.Uzbekistan by early 2000 had clearly cooled towards the body, wantingRussian assistance in its struggle against ‘Islamic extremism’, whileMoldova feared antagonizing Russia, suffering from multiplevulnerabilities.38 A rump GAU (Georgia, Azerbaijan and Ukraine) wouldprobably provoke more problems than it would be able to resolve.

It should be noted that the USA had strongly supported the GUUAMinitiative as part of its two-prong strategy of supporting Moscow verbally


at the state level while doing all in its power politically to isolate Russiaand to push it out of its traditional sphere of influence in the Caucasus andcentral Asia. Ukraine was a willing accomplice, and indeed instrument, ofthis strategy. Some went so far as to suggest that American policy hadgiven hope to the secessionists in Chechnya, and hence had to bear some ofthe responsibility for the tragic outcome. It is unclear whether the USAfavoured the disintegration of Russia or not; an ambiguity that in theByzantine politics of the Caucasus would not remain unexploited for long.

The EU’s TRACECA (Transport Corridor Europe-Caucasus-Asia) projectwas another implicitly anti-Russian scheme. The EU’s aim was to establishan East-West transport corridor that would by-pass Russia. In response,Russia in March 2000 outlined its own plans in this area, provisionallynamed Transcam, that would link China, Japan and the Russian Far Eastwith the Near East and the Transcaucasus through Russian territory.39

Geo-economics

On the eve of Igor Ivanov’s visit to Japan, Deputy Foreign MinisterGrigorii Karasin outlined Russia’s three strategic objectives vis-à-vis theFar East. First, Moscow sought ‘maximum participation in [international]security structures’ to help ensure ‘stability and predictability’ in thatregion. Secondly, it aimed to ensure the security of its borders and theimplentation of long-term confidence-building measures. And third, itsought to establish political and economic relations with countries in theregion that could help the development of Russia’s Far East, above alldealing with the energy, transport and high-technology sectors.40 The thirdelement was clearly crucial. There has been much discussion of the‘commercialization’ of foreign policy under Putin, noting an instrumentalapproach to foreign relations where grandiose ambitions weresubordinated to Russia’s developmental (and hard currency) needs. A casein point was the decision in May 2000 to relax restrictions on the export ofRussian nuclear materials and technologies, which would allow Moscow tosell nuclear technologies to countries not subject to the oversight of theInternational Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) based in Vienna.41 It appearedthat the desire to exploit one of Russia’s few high-technology assetsoverrode Russia’s own earlier qualms (Yeltsin in 1992 had banned suchsales to countries not subject to full-scale international monitoring) andinternational opinion. Putin’s decision would allow Russia to build twonuclear reactors in India. It indicated a more independent foreign policyapproach, perhaps in part conditioned by America’s attempts to modify the1972 ABM treaty to allow the development of its nuclear shield.International non-proliferation efforts appeared to be crumbling in the faceof Congressional intransigence (as in its refusal to ratify the ComprehensiveTest Ban Treaty) and Russian assertiveness.


In a manner reminiscent of Catherine the Great’s famous edict that‘Russia is a European country’, Putin on several occasions stressed thatRussia was a European state. At the base of the European orientation ofPutin’s foreign policy were the ever closer economic links between Russiaand the EU. Some 40 per cent of Russia’s exports went to the EU, and 38 percent of its imports came from there. The importance of the relationship forboth sides was confirmed by the EU-Russia summit of 29 May 2000. TheEU delegation was headed by Romano Prodi, President of the EuropeanCommission, and included Javier Solana, responsible for the developmentof the EU’s second pillar, a common foreign and security policy in theframework of ESDI (European Security and Defence Identity). The summitdiscussed the prospects for Russian economic reform, the future of Russia—EU relations in the light of EU enlargement to encompass former Sovietstates, and European concerns over the conduct of the Chechen war. WhileSolana sought to highlight the latter, Prodi’s approach, which continuedthe Blairite line of constructive engagement, focused on economic andgeneral political issues.42

CONCLUSION: ‘THIRDISM’ AND THE NEWEASTERNISM

Jowitt has argued that, in the context of the strong ‘Leninist legacies’ ineastern Europe, traditional attempts to strike a balance between economicdevelopment and democratic participation may not be effective. Liberalauthoritarianism may well be a more ‘desirable alternative’ and a ‘morepractical response than the utopian wish for immediate mass democracy inEastern Europe’.43 It is precisely this tension between the authoritarianreimposition of order and democratic anarchism that Putin sought tofinesse. Putin provides a new approach to the problem of institutionalizingorder between the old-fashioned establishment of a repressive order andthe anarchization of social relations that so characterized post-communistRussia. The key point was precisely the institutionalizing of order, to makeit something not external but vital to the operation of the system. In short,the aim was to achieve the internalization of authority where power movedfrom being despotic and arbitrary to infrastructural and legitimate. The aimwas to shift from power to authority. Between radical liberalism andrestorationist authoritarianism there lay a third way, and this was nowsought by Putin.

German Gref, the head of the Centre for Strategic Development whosetask it was to devise a plan for Russia’s development in the early part ofthe millennium, argued that ‘“the West” as some sort of definition doesnot mean much in particular’.44 It was not ‘the West’ as such that would dothis or the other, but concrete investors. Thus Gref reflected one of thecharacteristic features of the new conception of geo-ideological space: the


disaggregation of the West from a monolithic unitary actor into a moredynamic conception of the West as the site of conflicts, divergent interestsand dynamism. Putin’s own roots lay in St Petersburg, the city created byPeter the Great as a ‘window on the West’, and the symbolism of hisreceiving the first two foreign leaders to visit Russia following his accessionto the presidency, British Prime Minister Tony Blair and Japanese PrimeMinister Yoshiro Mori, in that city was lost on none. There was even talkthat the capital could move to the northern city, although it is probable that,at most, some ministries and part of the legislature could move there. Whatwas already clear, however, was that Putin’s elevation of St Petersburgreflected his calls for close ties with Europe.

Russia has traditionally appeared to be particularly prone to pathophysicapproaches (based on the science of imagining solutions). A new ‘ThirdWorldism’ emerged with Russia at its head. This was clearly anopportunistic response to the failure of having made the First World, andwould in all likelihood be dropped if the economy improved sufficiently tobring Russia into the First World. Neither Russia nor China recognizesitself as a lesser developed country. In a unipolar world, the aim was tocreate a second pole. The concept of the East was an attempt to recuperatean alternative. However, the new conceptualization of the East was notenvisaged as an alternative to the West but as its complement. In broadpolitical terms, Russia sought to be recognized as a serious actor able toresume the role of a great power and defend its national interests in theinternational arena.45

Putin’s attempts to improve relations with the West and to placerelations with the East on a new basis have yet to bear fruit, but hedemonstrated an awareness that the legacy of Primakov’s so-calledpragmatism in foreign policy had been disastrous for Russia, alienating itsfriends and confirming the hostility of those traditionally suspicious ofRussian intentions. Russian foreign policy in the late 1990s was built onfake history and mythopoeic representations of traditional alliances. Putinfound himself in a position remarkably reminiscent of that facingGorbachev when he came to power in 1985: surrounded by sullenneighbours and increasingly robust foes. If nothing else, Putin was forcedto launch a charm offensive, and this he did.

In foreign policy it is clear that Putin devised his own policies toovercome Russia’s isolation and to establish good relations with the West,China and the world. This he has done by seeking a third way between thehumiliating subservience to the West that characterized Russian policy fromthe late 1980s and the mindless great-powerism that predominated in thelate 1990s. This new way would be based on overcoming Russia’straditional idealized view of the world and recognizing a few hard realities:Russia’s economy could no longer maintain any aspirations to superpowerstatus; NATO was here to stay and increasing numbers of Russia’s


neighbours wanted to join it, including (perhaps most humiliatingly for‘pragmatists’ of Primakov’s ilk) Ukraine; and the CIS could not be used asan instrument of policy but would have to be based on genuine partnershipsor it would wither away. At the same time, Russia was too big and toodistinct simply to become part of the West; for geo-ideological, geopoliticaland geo-economic reasons it would always be part of the East. The mainchoice facing the country, therefore, was how to define this East. The greatchallenge facing Putin has been to transform the East while remainingengaged with the West, and this he began to do.

NOTES

1. The broad outlines of the notion of two Easts was suggested by Natasha Kuhrt,‘NATO Expansion as a Factor in Russo-Chinese Relations’, paper preparedfor the PSA Specialist Group conference, SSEES, University of London, 5February 2000.

2. The view defended by Norman Davies, Europe: A History (Oxford, 1996).3. Alexander Yanov, ‘Open Letter to Colleagues in the West’, Johnson’s Russia

List, no. 3410, 26 July 1999.4. Sergei Karaganov et al., Strategy for Russia: Agenda for President—2000

(Moscow, 2000).5. A.S.Panarin, Rossiia v tsiklakh mirovoi istorii (Moscow, 1999).6. Andrei Zagorskii et al., The Commonwealth of Independent States:

Developments and Prospects (Moscow, 1992).7. Jamestown Foundation, Monitor, vol. 6, no. 72, 11 April 2000.8. Viktor Sheinis, ‘Posle bitvy: itogi parlamentskikh vyborov i novaia

Gosudarstvennaia Duma’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 29 December 1999, p. 8.9. Anthony Giddens, The Third Way. The Renewal of Social Democracy

(Cambridge, 1998).10. Vladimir Putin, ‘Rossiia na rubezhe tysiacheletii’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 30

December 1999, p. 4, available at www.pravitelstvo.gov.ru11. John Williamson, The Political Economy of Policy Reform (Washington,

DC, 1994), pp. 17, 20–8.12. Celeste A.Wallander, Russian National Security Policy in 2000, Davis Center

for Russian Studies, Harvard University, Program on New Approaches toRussian Security, Policy Memo Series no. 102, p. 1.

13. ‘Kontseptsiia national’noi bezopasnosti Rossiiskoi Federatsii’, Nezavisimoevoennoe obozrenie, no. 1, 14–20 January 2000, available at http://www.scrf.gov.ru/ Documents/Decree/2000/24–1.html

14. Ibid.15. N.Gevorkiian et al., Ot pervogo litsa: razgovory s Vladimirom Putinym

(Moscow, 2000), p. 156.16. ‘Voennaia doktrina Rossiiskoi Federatsii’, paragraph I.3, Nezavisimaia

gazeta, 22 April 2000, available at www.scrf.gov.ru/Documents/Decree/2000/706–l.html

17. Ibid., paragraph I.5.


18. Valeriia Sycheva, ‘V ekonomike stanet bol’she vneshnei politiki’, Segodnia,25 March 2000, p. 2.

19. Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (hereafter RFE/RL), Newsline, 2 February2000; Jamestown Foundation, Monitor, vol. 6, no. 23, 2 February 2000.

20. Russian Foreign Minister Igor Ivanov in talks with NATO Foreign Ministersin Florence on 24 May 2000 reportedly apologized for Ojdanic’s visit. SeeJamestown Foundation, Fortnight in Review, vol. 6, no. 11, 26 May 2000.

21. For a useful discussion of the issues, see Gennady Chufrin (ed.), Russia andAsia: The Emerging Security Agenda (Stockholm, 1999).

22. One of the most detailed and balanced Russian analyses was published tocommemorate the 50th anniversary of the establishment of the People’sRepublic of China: M.L.Titarenko (ed.), Kitai na puti modernizatsii i reform:1949–1999 (Moscow, 1999).

23. Jonathan Steele, ‘Empty Encounters’, Guardian, 2 June 2000, p. 24.24. Il’ia Kedrov, Dmitrii Kosyrev, ‘Pervyi vizit Putina—v Kitai?’, Nezavisimaia

gazeta, 2 March 2000, p. 1.25. Jamestown Foundation, Monitor, vol. 6, no. 52, 14 March 2000.26. See, for example, Andrei Komarov, ‘Rossiia i kitai kritikuiut gumanitarnoe

vmeshatel’stvo’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 16 March 2000, p. 6. The interviewreported here was with Oleg Mironov, the Russian Human RightsCommissioner, on a visit to China where he shared Russian experience.

27. For a highly sceptical analysis see the interview with the Moscow UniversitySinologist, Vil’ Gel’bras, by Natal’ia Airapetova, ‘Nado li Rossii opasat’siaKitaia?’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 3 March 2000, p. 8.

28. Times of India, 13 March 2000, in Jamestown Foundation, Monitor, vol. 6,no. 52, 14 March 2000.

29. ‘Interv’iu programma ‘Zavtrak s Frostom’ (telekanal Bi-Bi-Si)’, available atwww.putin2000.ru/02/13.html

30. Segodnia, 2 March 2000.31. Segodnia, 4 April 2000; RFE/RL, Newsline, 5 April 2000.32. Jamestown Foundation, Monitor, vol. 6, no. 32, 15 February 2000.33. Kommersant-Daily, 17 May 2000.34. My thanks to Hugo Dobson for providing me with the transcript of the

conversation.35. Jamestown Foundation, Monitor, 15 February 2000.36. The great ‘theorists’ of such an approach were Zbigniew Brzezinski, The

Grand Chessboard: American Primacy and its Geostrategic Imperatives(Boulder, CO, 1998), and from a peculiarly geo-cultural perspective, SamuelP. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations?’, Foreign Affairs, vol. 72, no. 3(Summer 1993), pp. 22–49, and his The Clash of Civilizations and theRemaking of World Order (New York, 1996).

37. See Richard Sakwa and Mark Webber, The Commonwealth of IndependentStates, 1991–1998: Stagnation and Survival’, Europe-Asia Studies, vol. 51,no. 3 (May 1999), pp. 379–415.

38. Jamestown Foundation, Monitor, vol. 6, no. 50, 10 March 2000.39. Nezavisimaia gazeta, 7 March 2000; RFE/RL, Newsline, 8 March 2000.40. RFE/RL, Newsline, 8 February 2000.41. Jamestown Foundation, Monitor, vol. 6, no. 108, 2 June 2000.


42. Ibid., vol. 6, no. 106, 31 May 2000.43. Ken Jowitt, New World Disorder: The Leninist Extinction (Berkeley, CA,

1992).44. Interview with Sergei Parkhomenko, ‘Sostavitel’ kontrakta’, Itogi, 8 February

2000, p. 24.45. This was something recognized by Henry Kissinger, ‘Clinton Must Lay the

Groundwork for a New Relationship with Russia’, Washington Post, 15 May2000. As far as Kissinger was concerned, the last thing Russia needed was yetmore admonitions about its economy or Caucasian policy; it simply neededrecognition that it was an independent actor in world politics whose viewswere legitimate and to be respected. The West, in his view, was to stop actingas if it were part of Russia’s domestic politics. At the same time, he urgedPresident Clinton to ‘stress—against all his inclinations—that geopolitics hasnot been abolished’.


Notes on Contributors

Alexei G.Arbatov is Deputy Chairman of the Russian Duma and DeputyChairman of its Defence Committee. He has published vastly on Russiansecurity policies. Recent publications include the edited book ManagingConflict in the Former Soviet Union: Russian and American Perspectives(1997) and ‘The Transformation of Russian Military Doctrine: LessonsLearned from Kosovo and Chechnya’, Marshall Center Papers, No. 2.Pavel Baev is Senior Researcher at the Peace Research Institute, Oslo(PRIO). He has published numerous articles concerning Russian securityissues, including: ‘Collecting Revolutions: Academic Rigour with Style’,Security Dialogue 32(2)(2001); The Russian Armed Forces: FailedReform Attempts and Creeping Regionalisation’, Journal of CommunistStudies and Transition Politics 17(1)(2001); ‘Does History InformRussia’s Policy in the Great Anti-Terrorist Game?’, Asia and theCaucasus, 1(13), (2002), and ‘Russia as a Security Disaster Area:Possible Conflicts and Interventions in 2015’, Korean Journal of DefenseAnalysis 14(1) (2002).Alyson J.K.Bailes is the Ambassador of the United Kingdom to Finlandand former Political Director of the Western European Union inBrussels. Ambassador Bailes has published numerous articles onEuropean security, among them ‘Europe’s Defense Challenge’, ForeignAffairs, 76 (1997).Oded Eran is an associate member of the Curiel Center for InternationalStudies, Tel Aviv University. He was formerly a member of the IsraeliForeign Ministry and is author of a textbook on Russian Foreign Policyin Hebrew under the title Soviet Foreign Policy from Lenin toGorbachev (1991).Gabriel Gorodetsky holds the Rubin Chair for Russian Studies, Tel AvivUniversity. His most recent publications include Grand Delusion: Stalinand the German Invasion of Russia (2000, also published in German in2001, and in France in 2000) and, co-edited with W.Weidenfeld,Regional Security in the Wake of the Collapse of the Soviet Union:Europe and the Middle East (2002).

Lena Jonson is senior scientific employee of the Swedish Institute ofInternational Affairs (Stockholm, Sweden). She is author of Russia inCentral Asia: A New Web of Relations (1998) and editor, with RoyAllison, of Central Asian Security: The New International Context(2001).Lev Klepatskii is General Consul of the Russian Federation in Munich.He is the former deputy director of the Foreign Policy Planning Staff ofthe Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Federation.Margot light is Professor of International Relations at the LondonSchool of Economics and Chair of the Steering Committee, Centre forInternational Studies. She is author of The Soviet Theory ofInternational Relations (1988) and co-editor, with Karen E.Smith, ofEthics and Foreign Policy (2001). Bobo Lo is a fellow of the Royal Institute of International Affairs,London, and a former Australian diplomat. He is the author of RussianForeign Policy in the Post-Soviet Era (2002) and Vladimir Putin and theEvolution of Russian Foreign Policy (2003).John Löwenhardt is Director of the Institute of Central and EastEuropean Studies, University of Glasgow. Has been writing on Russiaand European Security. Among his latest articles, ‘A Wider Europe: TheView from Minsk and Chisinau’, International Affairs, 77/3 (July 2001),and ‘Russian Perspectives on European Security’, European ForeignAffairs Review, 5/4 (2000).S.Neil MacFarlane is Lester B. Pearson Professor of InternationalRelations at the University of Oxford, a fellow of St Anne’s College, andDirector of Oxford’s Centre for International Studies. He is author ofWestern Engagement in the Caucasus and Central Asia (1999) andeditor, with Rosemary Foot, of US Hegemony and InternationalOrganizations (2003).Mikhail Nosov is First Deputy Director, USA and Canada Institute,Russian Academy of Science, Moscow. Among his numerous publicationsconcerning Russia and Asia is ‘Challenges for the Future’, China Review(February 2001).Ingmar Oldberg is a Senior Researcher at the Swedish Defence ResearchAgency. He has published widely on Soviet and Russian policies in theBaltic area, most recently ‘Kaliningrad between Moscow and Brussels’,Russian Working Papers, 2002.Alex Pravda is Lecturer in Russian and East European Politics at StAntony’s College, Oxford. He is editor, with Jan Zielonka, DemocraticConsolidation in Eastern Europe: International and TransnationalFactors (2001) and is currently completing a monograph on Gorbachev’sforeign policy.


Yaacov Ro’i is Professor of History, Cummings Center for Russian andEast European Studies, Tel Aviv University. Among his most recentpublications are Islam and the Soviet Union (2000), Islam in the CIS: AThreat to Stability (2001) and Democracy and Pluralism in the MuslimRegions of the Former Soviet Union (2003, forthcoming)The late Alvin Rubinstein was a Professor of Political Science atPennsylvania University. His latest edited volume was America’sNational Interests in a Post-Cold War (1994).Richard Sakwa is Head of the Department of Politics and InternationalRelations and Professor of Russian and European Politics at theUniversity of Kent. Recent publications are The Rise and Fall of theSoviet Union: 1917–1991 (Sources in History) (1999), and, co-editedwith Anne Stevens, Contemporary Europe (2000) and Postcommunism:Concepts in the Social Sciences (1999).Dmitri Trenin is Deputy Director, Foreign and Security Policy Program,Carnegie Moscow Center. Recent publications include The End ofEurasia: Russia on the Border between Geopolitics and Globalization(2000), Russia and European Security Institutions: Entering the 21stCentury (2001) and The Baltic Chance: The Baltic States, Russia and theWest in the Emerging Greater Europe (1997).Stephen White is Professor of International Politics, University ofGlasgow. His most recent publications are After Gorbachev (1994) andRussia’s New Politics (1999).

NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS 189

Index

201st Division (Russian) 135, 143ABM treaty 1972 14, 30, 38–2, 44, 45,

48, 50, 88, 177, 181Adamov, Evgenii 176Adriatic Sea xiiAfghan civil war 144Afghanistan xviii, 40–4, 77, 125, 126,

127, 132, 135–5, 140, 143, 144, 145–5, 147, 148, 159

Africa 9aid:

financial/economic xv–xvi;military 41

Akaev, Askar 134, 146, 147Al-Assad, Hafez 156, 157Al-Qaeda network 44–8, 146Åland Islands 104Albanians 86, 87Albright, Madeleine 74, 133Amsterdam, treaty of 56Ankara 152, 153anti-Americanism 7–8anti-humanitarianism 174–4anti-missile defence treaty (1972) xviiianti-terrorism, in south central Asia

123–3, 125–8, 132, 133, 134, 135–5anti-universalism 174Arab world 151–68;

see also specific countriesArab-Israeli dispute xix, 85, 151, 154,

155, 156, 157–6Arafat, Yasser 157Arbatov, Aleksei 84Arbatov, Alexei xi, 26–30Argun River 177Arkhangelsk 93, 99

armaments, Russian sale of:to China 176, 177;to the Middle East 151, 152–2, 156,157;see also military-industrial complex

Armenia 126, 127arms control, and NATO expansion

83–84ASEAN (Association of South East

Asian Nations) 5, 9Asia 4, 9, 26, 80, 163–3;

see also central Asia;Eurasia;south central Asia;specific countries

Asia-Europe Meeting (ASEM) 163Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation

(APEC) Shanghai summit 40Asia-Pacific region 4Asian monetary fund 5Atlantic Alliance xAtlanticization 94, 95Austria 77authority 182Azerbaijan 87–4, 142, 153;

see also GUUAM

Baghdad 50–4, 155Balkan states x, xvii, 21, 26–28, 33, 38,

43, 59, 88, 94, 95, 105;see also specific countries

ballistic missiles xviii, xix, 14, 44, 153;see also National Missile Defence

Baltic Charter 85, 95Baltic Fleet (Russian) 99

190

Baltic Sea Cooperation Council 92Baltic Sea region xvii, 75, 103–12Baltic states xvii;

economic successes 36;ethnic disputes 106–15;and the EU 104, 106, 111, 112;and NATO 35, 42, 43, 59, 81, 104,106, 107, 111, 112;and Russian economic interests 110–20;and Russian political interests 106;and Russian security interests 104–13;see also EstoniaLatvia;Lithuania

Barak, Ehud 157Baranovsky, Vladimir 21Barents Euro-Active Initiative 92, 93,

98Barents Euro-Arctic Council (BEAC)

107Barents region 75, 106Bashkir people 140, 163Batken region, Kyrgyzstan 145Baturin, Iurii 130Beijing 33, 86, 176, 177Belarus 92, 97, 119, 124, 126, 127,

180Berger, Samuel R. xvBerlin 85bin Laden, Osama 145, 146biological weapons ixbipolarity 2–3Bishkek 41Black Sea Economic Cooperation 75Black Sea fleet xiiBlack Sea region x, xvii, 152Blair, Tony 36, 51, 182Blue Stream pipeline 152Bosnia 39, 85–2, 95Brezhnev era 95Britain 76, 99, 169;

see also United KingdomBrussels 42, 70Bulgaria 56Bush administration 23, 44

Bush, George W. xiv, xix, 36, 38–2, 49,95;‘axis of evil’ speech 50, 51

C3I systems 28Camdessus, Michel xvCanada 70, 117Caspian Sea region 35;

energy resources xii, 13, 17, 18,120, 129, 130

Castro, Fidel 82Catherine the Great 11, 181Caucasus x, xvii, xix, 27, 39, 105, 117,

119, 127, 130, 131, 133, 168, 180;Islamic destabilization of 40, 45,142;and the Middle East 153, 158, 159;and NATO 120;natural resources xii;and Russian economization ofpower 18;US bases in 48, 50;see also northern Caucasus;specific countries

CEE countries 62central Asia xii, 18, 27, 39, 44, 87, 117,

119, 180;Afghan campaign 41–5;and Islam 40, 45, 119, 140–57;and the Middle East 153, 158, 159;and NATO 41–5, 120;US bases in 48, 50;see also Commonwealth ofIndependent States;south central Asia;specific countries

central Europe 103Chechen wars 14, 20, 23, 87, 99, 140;

First (1994–96) 56, 153;Second (1999) xi, xvi, 59, 98, 100,120, 121, 123, 131, 133, 134, 153,159, 168, 173, 175;and the Baltic states 96;and China 176;effects of September 11 on 44–8, 49;and the EU 94, 182;and Japan 179;

INDEX 191

and Russian exploitation of theIslamic factor 147;and the Russian Military Doctrine26–30;and Russian-northern Europeanrelations 104, 105, 107;and US policy 180

Chechnya:fundamentalist Iranian influence onxix;and the OSCE 15;and the Taliban 145;see also Chechen wars

chemical weapons ixChernomyrdin, Viktor 20, 145, 152Chiang Mai meeting 5China xvii, 22, 32, 33, 38, 40, 77, 83,

86, 163, 165, 167, 169, 180, 183;as economic pole 6;Indian-Chinese-Russian triangle175;and Islam 145;modernization of 175–5;and NATO enlargement 85, 87;Russian arms sales to (1990s) 18;share of gross world production 5;Sino-Russian relations 10, 11, 18,175–7;and south central Asia 129, 131

Chinese Embassy, Belgrade 86Chyvashe people 163CIS (Commonwealth of Independent

States) x, xix, 8–9, 20, 56, 63–64, 77,173, 175, 180;and the Afghan campaign 41;call for genuine Russian partnershipwith 183;Collective Security Treaty 124, 125,126, 127, 128, 129, 145, 147;and Islam 142, 143, 144, 145, 147;and Kyrgyzstan 125, 127;NATO’s involvement in 41–5;Putin and 13, 14, 18, 117–30;Russian integration with 33, 124,130;and Russian security issues 142,143, 144, 145, 147;Southern Tier states 117–30;

summit, January 2000 126, 133;trade 108;and Uzbekistan 124

CIS (Commonwealth ofIndependent States) CollectivePeacekeeping Force 128

CIS (Commonwealth of IndependentStates) Council of Defence Ministers126

CIS (Commonwealth of IndependentStates) Customs Union 124

CIS (Commonwealth of IndependentStates) Southern Shield 92 126

CIS (Commonwealth of IndependentStates) Southern Shield 2000 126–6

Clinton, Bill 7, 22, 58, 85, 86, 87, 88,153

coal 5Cohen, William 86Cold War x, xi, xiii, xv, xix, xx, 2, 2,

17, 18, 36, 64, 80, 83, 105, 117, 152,154, 167, 168, 171

Cologne European Council 62Common European Security and

Defence Policy (CESDP) (EU) 62, 63–65;as supplement to NATO 63–64, 65;as wedge between Europe and USA63, 65

Common Foreign and Security Policy(CFSP) (EU) 14–15, 16, 62, 65

Common Strategy on Russia 1999 (EU)56, 65, 72, 75

communism ixCommunist Party (Chinese) 175Communist Party of the Russian

Federation (CPRF) 172Communist Party of the Soviet Union

(CPSU) 141Congress (US) 154Contact Group 39Conventional Forces in Europe, treaty

on 180Council of Baltic Sea States (CBSS) 107Council of Economic Assistance (SEV)

8Council for Foreign and Defence Policy

167


Council for Mutual EconomicAssistance 76

criminality 119, 126Cuba 82Cyprus 56, 70, 85Czech Republic:

and the EU 61, 82;and NATO xviii, 56, 58, 81, 86, 94,95

Dagestan xviii, xix, 123Dahrendorf, Lord 171Damascus 157Dayton Accords 1995 86defence see securitization;

security issuesdemocratic states 118democratization xv–xvi, 3, 6, 118, 120Denmark 103, 105, 109derzhavnost’ xiiDostum, Abdul Rashid 136Duma (Russian parliament) xvi, 28, 47,

83, 84, 106, 110, 156, 170, 171, 172;elections (1999) 170, 171–1

Dushanbe 41, 143, 144

East:as counterhegemonic formation174–4;division with the West xvi;geo-economic 165, 168, 183;geo-ideological 165–5, 168, 169,182, 183;geopolitical 165, 168, 173–3, 179–90, 183;identity 165–5;reforging of the concept of 7, 167,168, 169, 182–2;representations of and the real 175–8

east Asia 80eastern Europe 117‘Eastern Problem’ (German) 82–9economic issues:

Asian crisis 4;geo-economics 165, 168, 181–1;

and the imposition of external ideason Russia xv–xvi;integration 3–5, 7, 13, 47;Moscow consensus 172;multipolarity 3–5;prioritization 151;recovery 34–7, 117;ruble crash, August 1998 32, 92,109, 111, 172, 173;Russia and the EU 61, 62;Russian debt 32, 43;Russian defence budgets 27, 32;Russian gross domestic product xx,5, 32, 172, 177;Russian interests in northern Europe108–20;Russian share of world trade 5, 21;Russian weakness 17, 37, 46–47,59, 92, 109, 165, 166, 170, 183;Russian-Asian relations 163, 164;Russian-Middle Eastern relations152–2, 156, 157, 158–8;Russia’s debtors 156, 157, 178;Russia’s federal budget 32;see also trade

economic ‘poles’ 3–4, 5, 6, 8economization 12–13, 17–18, 46, 181Egypt 157elites:

and the economy 172;and EU enlargement 60–7, 62, 63;and Islam 142;and NATO enlargement 58–5;Putin’s angering of 37, 47, 48–2, 96

energy resources xix, 5, 124, 165;Caspian Sea region xii, 13, 17, 18,120, 129, 130;see also natural gas;oil

Estonia xvii, 103;border questions 106;ethnic disputes 106–15;and the EU 56, 64;and NATO 85;and Russian economic interests 110

Eurasia xvi, 87, 121;see also specific countries

INDEX 193

Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council(EAPC) 56

‘Euro-Atlantists’ 142Eurocentrism 20–5, 163–3, 182Europe xiii, xvii, 4, 103;

dual expansion of and the exclusionof Russia 56–66;regional organizations 9;Russia as bridge between Asia and163, 164;and Russia in the era ofsecuritization 20–5;and Russian strategic uncertaintyand American tactical intrusiveness80–88;Russia’s place in the defence of 69–77;Russia’s road into 54–88;and US strategic interests 80, 81;see also eastern Europe;northern Europe;western Europe

European Commission 56, 60European Council 56, 56, 61European Environment Agency 75European Missile Defence Initiative 14European Monetary Union (EMU) 108European Security Council 175European Security and Defence Identity

(ESDI) 181European Union (EU) 4, 15, 88, 97;

accession states 56, 61, 62, 63;anti-Americanism of 8;and the Baltic states 104, 106, 107,111, 112;and cooperation 66;defence issues 5, 62, 63–65, 70–7,72–75, 76–3;enlargement 16, 34, 56, 56, 57, 60–64, 74, 75, 111;and the former Soviet bloc countries56, 56;and Germany 82;Headline Goal 71;Helsinki summit, 1999 94;‘insiders-outsiders dichotomy’ 56,56;and Kosovo 94;

militarization 5, 74–1;and the Nordic—Baltic region 92,93–2, 95, 100;pre-in states 56, 61;Rapid Reaction Force 14–15, 16;Russia—EU Partnership andCooperation Agreement 13, 63;Russian collaboration with 8;Russian integration with 34, 181–1;and Russian trade 21, 61, 75–2, 77,181;and Russian-northern Europeanrelations 108–20;and Russia’s identity crisis 33;Russia’s turn to following September11 51–5;securitization of 75;share of gross world production 5;and the single currency 5;and south central Asia 129;subservience to NATO 59;summit, May 2000 181–1;TRACECA (Transport CorridorEurope-Caucasus-Asia) 180

Europeanization 163–2

Far East xi, xviii, 161–92Federal Assembly 13, 47, 158Federal Security Service (FSS) 19, 126Ferghana region, Uzbekistan 126, 128Finland 93, 103;

and the EU 108;and Russian economic interests 108–17, 110;and Russian political interests 106;and Russian security interests 104,105

First World War 80fishing industry 109–18Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR) 19,

128, 130, 167, 168Foreign Policy Concept 2000 11, 13,

58, 64, 158–7, 174foreign policy establishments:

and EU enlargement 60–7, 62, 63;and NATO enlargement 58–5;Putin’s angering of 48


former Soviet bloc 117;EU membership 56, 56;financial debt to Russia 17;NATO membership 56;Russian collaboration with 8;see also specific countries

Founding Act on Mutual Relations,Cooperation and Security BetweenNATO and the Russian Federation1997 26, 39, 56, 58, 94

Fradkov, Mikhail 176France 22, 82, 85, 95, 108Frank, Semen 170free-market economy xv, 46free-trade areas 77Frost, David 56, 177fundamentalist nationalists 57, 58, 59

G8 countries 6, 178;summit, July 2000 44, 51

Gazprom xv, xixGenoa 38geo-economics 32, 165, 168, 181–1,

183geo-ideology 165–5, 168, 169, 182,

183geopolitical issues xiii;

reversal of trends 32;under Putin 12, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18,19, 21, 166, 173–3, 175, 179–90,183;under Yeltsin 13;US 179

Georgia 18, 48, 50, 87–4;see also GUUAM

Germany xv, xvi, 22, 85, 88, 95, 111;‘Eastern Problem’ 82–9;nationalism 83;and NATO enlargement 82–84;Nazi 83;unification of xvii

Giddens, Anthony 170glasnost 140Glaz’ev, Sergei 172globalization xi, xii, xx–52;

and the East-West divide 7;

and Putin’s foreign policy afterSeptember 11 36–52;Russia and the New World Order 2–9;and Russian international relations3;and Russian Military Doctrine afterKosovo and Chechnya 26–30;and Russian national interests 2, 3;and securitization of Russian foreignpolicy 10–23;as unilateralism xiv

Gorbachev era 42, 43, 140Gorbachev, Mikhail xii, xvi–xvii, 39,

66, 81, 155, 159, 166, 169, 175, 183Gorbenko, Leonid 111Gore, Al 152Gotland 104Grant, Charles 75Great Northern Route 164Greece 85Gulf states 153–2Gulf War xixGUUAM (Georgia, Ukraine,

Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan andMoldova) 33, 125, 145, 180

Haiti 118Hanoi 178Hashimoto, Ryutaro 179Hassan, Crown Prince of Jordan 157hegemony 6, 9;

patterns of 117–8;Russian 121;US xiii, xix, 5, 22, 38, 80, 81, 82,84, 86, 87, 117, 165, 167, 179

Helsinki European Council 62Hizballah 156House Committee on National Security

84humanitarian intervention, devaluation

174–4Hungary 31–8, 56, 58, 81, 86, 94, 95Hunter, Robert 87–4Huntington, Samuel 159Hussein, Saddam 87, 175

INDEX 195

Iakovlev, Vladimir 97Iceland 75, 103, 108, 109IKEA 108Ikle’, Fred C. 84India 77, 83, 118, 166, 172, 176, 181;

as economic pole 6;and NATO enlargement 85;Russian arms sales to (1990s) 18;Russia’s attempt to forgerelationship with 10, 11;Western qualities of 7

Indian-Chinese-Russian triangle 175Ingush people 141integration:

economic 3–5, 7, 13, 47;Russian-CIS 33, 124, 130;Russian-European 20–5, 34–8, 107,163–2, 181–1

intelligence, Russian-US provision afterSeptember 11 40

Interior Ministry 19International Atomic Energy Agency

(IAEA) 181international identity 31–8International Monetary Fund (IMF) xvi,

33International Monetary Union (IMU)

145, 146international relations:

democratization 6;and globalization 3;hegemony in 6, 9;and multipolarity 2, 5, 6, 8, 9;realist theory 117

investment 97Iran x–xi, xviii, xix, 50–4, 77, 85, 87,

120, 142, 151–64;fundamentalism xix;Islamic revolution 79 140;Russian nuclear cooperation with18, 51, 83, 152;and south central Asia 129, 130,131

Iran Nonproliferation Act, 2000 153Iran, Shah of 151–60Iraq x–xi, xvi, xviii, xix, 10, 50–4, 87,

155, 175Isfahan xix

Islamic extremism xii, 11, 40, 44–8,180;destabilization of the Caucasus 40,45, 142;destabilization of central Asia 119;role in Russia’s relations withcentral Asia 140–57;Russian antipathy towards 159;in south central Asia 123–3, 125–8,131–1, 133, 134, 135–5

Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan 145Islamic Renaissance Party 141–1Islamic terrorism:

role in Russia’s relations withcentral Asia 145, 146–6;in south central Asia 123–3, 125–8,132, 133, 134, 135–5;see also September 9,

Islamophobia 142Israel xix, 70, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157–

6;Arab-Israeli dispute xviii, 85, 151,154, 155, 156, 157–6

Ivanov, Igor 19, 48, 145, 147, 157–6,174, 178, 179, 181

Ivanov, Sergei 19, 40, 41, 48, 50, 126,127, 146, 147, 174

Ivashov, Leonid 66Izobil’noe, Russia 152

Jackson-Vanik Agreement 51Japan xvi, xvii, 5, 7, 32, 108, 163, 163,

165, 176–90Jerusalem 154, 158Jiaxuan, Tang 176Jordan 155Jowitt, Ken 182

Kabul 41Kaliningrad 16, 61, 75, 93, 95, 97, 104,

106, 109, 111;visa regime 52, 111

Kaliuzhnyi, Viktor 176Karaganov, Sergei 167, 178Karasin, Grigorii 181Karelia 93, 109, 110


Karimov, Islam 41, 124, 125–5, 132,134, 141, 143, 144–5, 147

Kazakhstan 124, 126, 127, 129, 142,144, 145;Uzbek population 132

Kazan 57Kennan, George 81KGB 96, 97, 143Khabarovska river 177Kildin (Russian intelligence ship) 154Klaipeda region 106Klebanov, Il’ia 176Kola Peninsula 97–6, 103–12, 109Koptev, Iurii 176Kosovo xi–xii, xvi, xvii, xviii, 8, 10, 14,

15, 16, 22, 32–5, 39, 58–5, 70, 73,84, 86–3, 88, 94–3, 105, 131, 145,173, 176;Russian Military Doctrine after 26–30

Kosovo Force (KFOR) (NATO) 94Kostunica, Vojislav 88Kozyrev, Andrei 2, 57, 142, 155, 156,

159, 166, 178Kremlin 39, 46, 52;

and the Chechen crisis 20;fear of isolation xvi;and globalization xiv;Islamic threat to 145;and the Kosovan situation xi;modus operandi xvii;multipolarity xiv;response to 11 September 37, 40,43, 45, 47, 48, 50–4;and Russia’s admission to the G8group 51;under Putin 15, 19,20

Kurile Islands xvii, 179Kursk tragedy 98, 99Kuwait 154Kyrgyzstan 41;

Islamist threat to 125, 126, 127,129, 133, 134, 144, 145, 146;and Russian security policy 123,124, 125, 126, 127, 129, 133, 134,136, 144, 145, 146;Uzbek population 132

Latin America 4, 6, 9, 172Latvia xvii, 56, 93, 103, 106–15, 110–

19Lebanon 156, 158Lebedev, Sergei 168Leningrad 27, 109;

see also St Petersburgliberal conservatism 170liberal Westernizers 57, 59liberalism 37, 46–47, 57, 59, 166, 170Libya 85, 156Lithuania 56, 103, 104, 106, 110–19Ljubljana 38Lokoil xv–xvi

Madrid 86Malaysia 7Malta 56, 70Mandelbaum, Michael 85Margelov, Mikhail 48marginalization 33, 35, 56Maskhadov, Aslan 145Masud, Ahmad Shah 135–5, 144Medium-term Strategy (2000–10)

(Russian) 61–8, 63Menatep xviMiddle East xviii–xix, 80, 142, 151–68;

see also specific countriesMilitary Doctrine 1992 (draft) 128Military Doctrine 2000 63, 64, 130,

174;after Kosovo and Chechnya 26–30;main tasks of defence policy 27;new defence priorities 28–1;new look at 27–28;and Russia’s identity crisis 33

military establishment, Putin’s angeringof 48

military-industrial complex 18;see also armaments

Milosevic, Slobodan 87, 88, 175Ministry of Defence (Russian) 19modernity 167Moldova 180;

see also GUUAMmonetary multipolarity 5Mori, Yoshiro 179, 182

INDEX 197

Moscow x, xii–xiii, 22, 27, 51, 52, 57,109, 126, 153, 174, 175;and arms control 84;and Chechnya xi;and China 176, 177;and the CIS 180;collaboration with the West 10;consensus 172;double-edged nature of Western aidxv;economization of security issues 17,18;and the ‘Eurasian triangle’ 33;and the Far East 181;fear of isolation xvi;identity of 163;Islamic threat to 141, 142, 143,144, 145, 147;and Israel 154;and Kosovo xi–xii, 32–5;and the Middle East 152, 154, 156,157, 158;and National Missile Defence 35;and NATO xviii, 16, 41–5, 43, 51,82, 84, 88;and the Nordic—Baltic region 95;and nuclear power 98;and Putin 97;response to September 11 36, 37,38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46,47, 49, 50;scaling down of foreign policy goals34;securitization 12, 13, 14–15, 16, 19,20, 23, 30;and south central Asia 123;and South Korea 178;summit, May 2002 49, 50;and Swedish trade 108;and the Tajik civil war 142, 143;and Turkey 152

Mubarak, Husni 157multinationals 3multipolarity xiv, 3–9, 11, 14, 18, 38,

64, 167, 173, 174, 176, 178;economic 3–5;

and the EU 74;

and international relations 2, 5, 6, 8,9;lack of consensus regarding 2–2;monetary 5;as official Russian policy 2;as realistic perspective 2, 9;regional scale 4;and Russian national interests 2, 3,8;see also pluralism

Murmansk 93, 99, 109

Namangani, Juma 133, 145nation-building xvnational identity ix, xi, xiii, xv, 76national interests x, xvii, xx;

and globalization xiv, 2, 3;and multipolarity 2, 3, 8;Putin’s support of 169

National Missile Defence (NMD) 13–14, 35, 50, 84, 88, 105, 177–7

National Security Blueprint 2000 62–9,84

National Security Concept 1997 13,173

National Security Concept 2000 2, 11,13, 27, 28, 29, 33, 130

National Security Council (Russian)xix, 27, 48, 130

national sovereignty 174NATO (North Atlantic Treaty

Organization) xii, xviii, 13, 14, 51,52, 76, 165;50th anniversary summit 58;and the Baltic states 35, 104, 106,107, 111, 112;calls for transformation fromdefensive to political alliance 51,177;and the Caucasus 120;and central Asia 120;CESDP as supplement to 63–64, 65;and cooperation 65–2;and European security concerns 62,63–64, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74;and the exclusion of Russia 81–8,87–4;


and former Soviet bloc countries 56;‘insiders-outsiders dichotomy’ 56–2;as instrument of US foreign policyxviii, 59, 64;Islamic threat to 147;Kosovo Force (KFOR) 94;Madrid summit, 1997 56;Partnership for Peace 56, 57, 87–4,98, 125, 130;Putin and 15, 16;Russian acceptance of CIS influence41–5;Russian inclusion xiv;and Russian nuclear capability 99;and Russia’s identity crisis 33;and south central Asia 130, 131,133;Strategic Concept 1999 131;and Turkey 151, 152;and Yugoslavia 26, 27–28, 33;see also NATO enlargement

NATO enlargement xviii, 10, 16, 22,27–29, 30, 34, 38–2, 41–6, 56–6, 63,80–88, 131, 163, 164, 173, 175, 183;and the CIS 119, 180;and the destruction of internationalstability 80–8, 85–3;effect on arms control negotiations83–84;effect on Germany 82–9;effect on Russian security interests87;and the Nordic—Baltic region 92,94–4;perceived as universal threat 85;and Sino-Russian relations 176;and US—Russian estrangement 82;and northern Europe 103–13;weakening effect on the Alliance 84–1

NATO-Russia Founding Act 1997 26,39, 56, 58, 94

NATO-Russia Joint Council xviii, 58,65

NATO-Russian Partnership for Peace30

natural gas xix, 5, 13, 18, 77, 108, 124,152

Nazarbaev, Nursultan 145, 146Nazi Germany 83‘near abroad’ x, xvii, xviii–xix, 117,

140, 143, 148, 158, 159;see also specific countries

Near East 18neo-Eurasians 142Netanyahu, Binyamin 156, 157Netherlands, The 164New Delhi 33New World Order ix, xi, xvi;

new Russia and 2–9;open to question 2;Russia’s role in xv

New York 38Nikitin, Vladimir 109Niyazov, Sapurmurad 144non-governmental organizations 3Nordic Council 103Nordic—Baltic region xii, 92–100;

demilitarisation 92, 95, 97;and the EU 92, 93–2, 100;institutional frameworks 92–2;and NATO enlargement 92, 94–4;Putin and 92, 96–5;and Russian nuclear capability 92,97–7, 100;security issues 92–100, 104–13;underdevelopment of military-to-military contacts 92, 98

North Atlantic Cooperation Council(NACC) 56

North Korea 44, 51;see also Republic of Korea

Northern Alliance 41, 49, 135–5northern Caucasus 140, 141, 144, 145,

148Northern Dimension programme 75,

93–2, 97, 108northern Europe xi, 103–22;

and NATO 103–13;Russian disarmament in 104, 105;Russia’s economic interests in 108–20;Russia’s military-strategic interestsin 103–13;Russia’s political interests in 106–16;see also specific countries

INDEX 199

Northern Fleet (Russian) 98, 99, 109Norway 75, 103, 105, 106, 107, 108–

17Novgorod oblast 93, 97nuclear technology ix, xix, 18, 83, 103–

12, 109;deterrence strategies 27, 28–1;‘first use’ doctrine 84;following September 11 50;human factor 98–7;Russian sales of 18, 51, 83, 152,181;Russia’s maintenance failures in theNordic—Baltic region 92, 97–7,100;warhead reduction 50

Obuchi, Keizo 179oil xix, 5, 77, 108, 110Ojdanic, Dragoljub 175Oldberg, Ingmar 93oligarchies xv–xviOneximbank xviOrganization of Petroleum Exporting

Countries (OPEC) 108, 109Organization for Security and

Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) 9, 26,64, 72, 107, 173, 174, 179;Istanbul summit, December 199997;Istanbul summit, November 1999175;NATO’s desire for equality with/supremacy over 28;Putin and 15

orientalism 167, 168Osh region, Kyrgyzstan 125, 126Oslo Accord 155Osset people 141

Pakistan 118, 130Palestine Liberation Organization

(PLO) 155Palestine/Palestinians xix, 85, 155, 158Palestinian Authority 156, 157–6Panama 118Panarin, A.S. 169

Pankisi Gorge 50Paris Club debt 13Partnership and Cooperation

Agreement (PCA) 56Partnership for Peace (PfP) 56, 57, 87–4,

98, 125, 130Patten, Chris 63, 65Pechenga 106perestroika xvii, 140, 169Permanent Joint Council 58, 94Peter the Great 163, 182‘Petersberg tasks’ 71pipelines xix, 120, 124, 152Plekhanov, Georgii 163pluralism 32;

see also multipolarityPoland 35–8, 103, 105, 109, 111;

and the EU 61, 82;and NATO xviii, 56, 57, 58, 81, 86,94, 95, 104

pollution 109Posuvaliuk, Viktor 156–5power:

and authority 182;projection of 17, 18

pragmatism 37, 42–47, 166, 167, 183pragmatic nationalists 57, 59Prikhodko, Sergei 48Primakov, Evgenii xix, 19, 32–5, 96,

128, 156–5, 166, 167, 171, 176, 178,183

Principle Guidance on the MilitaryDoctrine of the Russian Federation1993 27

Prishcina xiiProdi, Romano 181–1Prusak, Mikhail 97public arena:

and EU enlargement 60;and NATO enlargement 58

‘Putin factor’ 92, 96–5Putin, Vladimir xii, xiv, xv, 33;

angering of the elites 37, 47, 48–2,96;and the CIS 117–30;competitive nature of 16–17, 37;contradictory policies of 171;


differences between declared andactual policies of 11, 13;and economization 17–18;and Europe 20–5, 56–2, 88, 96;and the Far East 165–92;foreign policy after September 1136–52;lack of distinct philosophy/worldview xiii, 10–11;meetings with Bush 38–2;and the Middle East 158;and the Military Doctrine 27;and the National Security Blueprint84;and NATO 66, 94–3;and the Nordic—Baltic region 92,92, 96–5, 99–8;and northern Europe 110, 112;as realist 37, 42–47, 166–91;reasoned acquiescence of 43;on Russian EU membership 56–2;and the Russian navy 98;on Russia’s status as a great power37;and securitization 10–23;and south central Asia 123, 124,125, 126, 127, 130, 132, 136;speeches of 13;and the threat of Islam 140, 145,147;and the timber industry 110

Pyonyang 44

Qaddafi, Moamar al 85

Rabbani, Birhanuddin 144Rahmonov, Imomali 125, 129, 141,

142Rambouillet 86–3Rapid Reaction Force (RRF) 14–15, 16Reagan administration 84realism 37, 42–47, 117, 166–91regional organizations 3, 9Republic of Korea 5;

see also North KoreaRice, Condoleeza 147Riga 95–4

Robertson, Lord 16, 73Rogozin, Dmitrii 172Romania 56, 81, 86Roosevelt, Theodore 16Ross, Dennis 157ruble crash, August 1998 32, 92, 109,

111, 172, 173Rushailo, Vladimir 147Russia ix–xx;

and Asia 163–3;Asian value system of 167–7;as bridge between East and West163, 164, 169;and central Asia 123–46, 140–57;and the CIS 33, 117–30, 124, 130;as ‘competition state’ 38, 46, 47, 52;containment of 35;contrast with the West xiii;Decembrists 166;differences between declared andactual policies of 11, 13, 39;domestic issues xvii, 13–14, 27, 29;as economic pole 6;and European defence 69–77;and European integration 20–5, 21,34–8, 107, 163–2, 181–1;exclusion from the dual expansionof Europe 56–66;exploitation of the Islamic factor142–2, 146, 147;and the Far East 165–92;globalist self-vision of 21–4;great power status of 37, 45, 47,143–4;hegemony in the CIS 121;identity ix, xi, xiii, xv, 31–8, 76,163–2, 181;and Islam 140–57;isolation of xvi, 32, 35, 56, 61, 95,100, 180;liberalism in 37, 46–47, 57, 59, 166,170;marginalization of 33, 35, 56;Medium-term Strategy (2000–2010)61–8, 63;in the Middle East 151–68;Military Doctrine after Kosovo andChechnya 26–30;

INDEX 201

modus operandi xvii, xx;and new Easternism 168;and the New World Order 2–9;and the Nordic—Baltic region 92–100;and northern Europe 103–22;phoenix legend 31, 32, 36;policy for peace 6;political myth-making 11, 13;Putin’s policy after September 1136–52;Putin’s policy in the CIS 117–30;quasi-centre 170;quest for international recognition173;as second-rank power 46, 47;securitization 10–23, 46;self-concentration 34, 36;self-limiting assertiveness 39, 43;Slavophile 166;and south central Asia 123–46;spatial vastness xi;strategic uncertainty and US tacticalintrusiveness 80–88;superpower status 31;‘third way’ of 170–81, 175, 182–2;as Third World nation ix, 167–7,183;Tsarist 158, 159;Tsarist and Soviet legacies of x, xi,xiii, xvii–xviii;see also United States-Russianrelations

‘Russia fatigue’ 35Russia—EU Partnership and

Cooperation Agreement 1994 13, 63Russia—NATO Joint Council xviii, 58,

65Russian army 143Russian Empire 26Russian Federation xi, xii, 13, 64, 65,

174;and the CIS 119, 121;Islamic threat to 140, 144;Muslim population 140;and the National Security Blueprint2000 84

Russian Federation Council 124

Russian navy 98–7, 154;mutiny 99

Russian Orthodox Church 142Russian Security Council 126, 174Russian-North Atlantic Council 51Russian-Uzbek agreement 125Russo-Japanese war 1904–05 99

St Petersburg 93, 96, 97, 179, 182;see also Leningrad

Sakhalin energy reserves 165Saudi Arabia 130SBS-Agro xviSchengen visa regime 16, 61, 109, 111Schroeder, Gerhard xvSecond World War 80, 103, 106securitization, of Russian foreign policy

10–23, 46;changing face of 12, 15–17;and economization 12, 17–18, 46;and Eurocentrism 20–5;four dimensions of 12–20;policy management 12, 19–2;primacy of security priorities andconcepts 12–15

security issues 5;in the CIS 142, 143, 144, 145, 147;European 14–15, 16, 62–65, 69, 70,71, 72, 73, 74, 81;hard xii, 12, 13, 46, 97;National Security Blueprint 200062–9, 84;in the Nordic—Baltic region 92–92,94–4, 97–7, 100, 104–13;Russian defence budgets 27, 32;as Russian priority xi–xii;Russia’s place in the defence ofEurope 69–77;soft xii, 46;in south central Asia 123–46, 141–5, 148;Western devolutionary tendencies14–15;see also Military Doctrine 2000;National Security Concepts, 1997,2000;securitization


Senate (US), Oct./Nov. 1997 hearings81–8

September 11, 2001 ix, xiii, xiv, 21, 22,30, 82, 96, 146, 148;Putin’s foreign policy after 36–52

Serbia 58, 59, 64, 86–3, 88, 105, 131,173, 175

Sergeev, Igor 19, 27, 124, 125, 127,133, 145

Sergounin, Alexander 109Shanghai Five (Shanghai Cooperation

Organization) 145, 147Sheinis, Viktor 170Shevardnadze, Eduard 88, 155, 159Shevtsova, Lilia 36Silk Road 13Slavs 163, 163Slovakia 56, 81Slovenia 56, 81, 86, 95Solana, Javier 63, 65, 73, 74, 83–84,

88, 181–1south central Asia:

border transparency 129;Russian security policy in 123–46;see also specific countries

South Korea 178Southern Tier states xviii–xix;

and Putin 117–30;see also Far East;specific countries

sovereignty 76, 174Soviet Special Forces xiiSoviet Union ix, 26, 80, 103, 104, 106,

112, 154, 167, 169;and eastern Europe 117;irresponsible nature of the collapseof xvi–xvii;legacy 151;and the Middle East 152, 155, 158,159;see also USSR

Spain 85, 86Spitzbergen 105, 106Stability and Growth Pact initiative

1997 (EU) 75Stalin, Josef 88, 106START (Strategic Arms Reduction

Talks) agreements 30, 103;

START II negotiations 83, 84;START III negotiations 84

state xi, xiii–xiv, 96–5;and economic integration 4;identity 118, 120–30;role in Russia 170–80

Steele, Jonathan 176Stern, Fritz 83Stockholm 97, 108Strategy for the Development of

Relations between the RussianFederation and the European Union(2000–10) 56

Struve, Peter 170Suez crisis 1956 85Sunni Islam 145Surkhandarya region, Uzbekistan 146Sweden 103, 104, 105, 107, 108–17,

110Syria xix, 154, 156, 157–6Szczecin, Poland 105

Taiwan 176Tajik civil war 128, 141, 142, 143, 144Tajik-Afghan border 135Tajikistan 41, 45, 153;

Islamic threat to 141–2, 144, 145,146, 148;and Russian security policy 123,124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 130, 133,134–5, 141–2, 144, 145, 146, 148;Uzbek population 132

Talbott, Strobe xv, 85Taliban 40, 41, 44, 45, 135–5, 143,

145, 146, 147Tallinn 95–4Tashkent 41, 144, 145Tatar people 140, 141, 163Tbilisi 88Teheran 152territorial integrity 174, 176terrorism 11;

in central Asia 119, 145, 146–6;domestic Russian 13–14;in south central Asia 123–3, 125–8,132, 133, 134, 135–5;

INDEX 203

war against xiv, xviii, 29, 36, 38,40, 44–8;see also September 11 2001

Theatre Missile Defence (TMD) 177Third World 40TRACECA (Transport Corridor

Europe-Caucasus-Asia) 180trade 8;

Russia and the EU 21, 61, 75–2, 77,181;Russian-Asian 163;Russian-Middle Eastern 152–2;Sino-Russian 176

Trans-Siberian Railway 164Transcam 180transcaspian gas pipeline 120, 124Transcaucasus 27, 87, 180transportation 164Trenin, Dmitri 60Trubnikov, Viacheslav 167Tsarist Russia 158, 159Turkey xviii, xix, 75, 85, 87, 120, 124,

142, 151, 152, 153, 154;and NATO 151, 152;and south central Asia 129, 130,131

Turkmenistan 120, 128, 132, 136, 144

Ukraine xvii, 18, 35, 59, 70, 77, 103,183;see also GUUAM

unipolarity 64, 173United Arab Emirates 154United Kingdom 82, 95;

see also BritainUnited Nations Charter 8, 26, 71, 74United Nations General Assembly 129United Nations Security Council 28, 58,

64, 86, 161, 174United Nations (UN) xi–xii, 7, 9, 26,

28, 64, 87, 107, 147, 173, 174United States (USA) xi, xvii, 2, 7, 76,

77, 175, 178;and Bosnia 86;and central Asia 148;and China 176;dollar 5;

decreased role in Europe 15;and European security concerns 62,63, 65, 73;geopolitics 179;and Germany 82, 83;and globalization xiv;and GUUAM 180;hegemony xiii, xix, 5, 22, 38, 80,81, 82, 84, 86, 87, 117, 165, 167,179;and Iran 152;bombing of Iraq xviii;and Islamic extremism/terrorism140, 146–6, 148;and the Middle East 152–1, 155–5;and National Missile Defence 13–14, 35, 84, 105, 177–7, 181;and NATO 59, 64, 80–8, 84–1;and nuclear disarmament 109;and oil/gas prices 108;share of gross world production 4,5;and south central Asia 129, 130–40,133;unipolarity 64, 173;and Uzbekistan 125;see also United States-Russianrelations

United States-Russian relations:as corner stone of Russian foreignpolicy x, 163;deterioration in 10, 26, 30, 82, 84,87;effect of Israeli-Russian relations on154;and Kosovo 33;and National Missile Defence 35;and NATO xviii, 82, 84, 87;under Putin 11, 88;Russian calls for reciprocity 37–1,39–3, 44, 45, 47–4, 171;and Russian collaboration 7–8;and Russian-Arab armaments sales152–1;following September 11 36–52, 96;and the START agreements 103;and US tactical intrusiveness xvi,80–88


United Tajik Opposition (UTO) 128universalism 178Ural-Volga military district 27US-Baltic Charter 85USSR 8;

see also Soviet UnionUzbekistan 41, 45;

and the Islamic threat 125–5, 127,128–8, 141, 144–4, 146, 148, 180;and Russian security issues 123,124–5, 127, 128–8, 131–1, 133–4,136, 143, 144–4, 146, 148;see also GUUAM

Vardö space radar station 105Ventspils, Latvia 110Vietnam 154, 178Vilnius 95–4von Clausewitz, Carl 87von Mises, Ludwig 171

Wahhabis 132, 145, 148Walesa, Lech 57Warsaw 57Washington 15, 21, 22, 44, 86, 155;

and the Afghan campaign 40–4;and ballistic missile defence 84;EU’s influence on 52;and Iran 152;and the NATO 50th-anniversarysummit 58;and NATO enlargement 80, 81, 84;Russian calls for reciprocity 37, 40,44, 45, 47, 49, 50, 51, 171;and terrorism 38, 142, 147;US-Baltic Charter 85

Washington Consensus 172West 32;

and the Caspian Basin energyreserves 120;deterioration in Russian relations26, 30;division with the East xvi;identity 165, 168, 182;and the Islamic threat 142, 146,147;and the Nordic—Baltic region 92;

and Putin 183;re-examination of the concept of 7;Russian resentment towards 10;and south central Asia 130–40;triumphalism of 167;see also western Europe

West European Union (WEU) 16, 62,69–6, 71–8, 73

West European Union Council 72West European Union Institute of

Security Studies 72West European Union Satellite Centre

72western Europe:

and Bosnia 86;devolutionary security tendencies14–15;and the Islamic threat 140;Putin and 14–15;and Russian gas exports 18;Russian integration into 34–8;Russia’s turn to following September11 51–5;subservience to NATO 59;US control over 117

Western European Armaments Group(WEAG) 72

Williamson, John 172World Trade Organization (WTO) 13,

45, 51, 52

Xiaoping, Deng 175

Yanov, Alexander 166Yastrzhembskii, Sergei 48Yeltsin administration 142Yeltsin, Boris xi, 33, 39, 41, 96, 97;

and the CIS 130;contrast with Putin’s leadership 10,12, 13, 14, 15, 18, 19, 20, 23;and disarmament in northernEurope 104, 105;and the Far East 167, 179;and the Middle East 151, 155, 156,157, 158, 159;and the Military Doctrine 27;and NATO 27, 57, 58, 82;

INDEX 205

and northern Europe 104, 105, 107,108;and nuclear technology sales 181;and the threat of Islam 140, 142

Yeltsin era 36, 38, 42, 43, 47, 121Yugoslavia xi, 26, 27–28, 29, 33, 39,

58, 85–2, 88, 94;see also Bosnia;Serbia;Slovenia

Zagorskii, Andrei 169zero-sum politics 15, 63
