In the grand scheme of things, Armenia is a relatively
insignificant country. No major
transportation routes traverse it. It
has minimal natural resources. Its economy
is stagnant, and its major export is, in fact, migrant workers, a steady flow
of whom has depleted the population by several hundred thousand since
independence. Strategically, it is
entirely dependent on Russia, which supplies most of its arms at preferential
rates, maintains several military bases, guards its 'external' borders, and owns much of its economic infrastructure.
Reports of today's sensational about-turn by Armenia’s current president during a
visit to Moscow should therefore not have come as a surprise; Armenia’s long-standing insistence on initialling the Association Agreement
with the European Union during the Vilnius Summit in November this year – despite of its military-strategic dependence on Moscow – had been far more puzzling. And yet, that policy formed part of a longer
tradition, a ‘silent accord’ whereby Yerevan was allowed to participate in
European integration processes by Moscow, provided it co-operated with Russia on the military front, and did not pursue actual membership of any Euro-Atlantic structures.
That silent accord was cancelled today. After having tentatively and unsuccessfully pressured the
Ukraine and Moldova – two states similarly poised to initial their Association
Agreements with the EU – with its usual “food hygiene” shenanigans, the Kremlin
decided to try with the weakest link in the chain by pushing Yerevan into
line. Outsiders know little of what was
said during the Sargsyan-Putin talks; what is certain, however, is that Armenia
decided to instantaneously undo the results of four years of arduous negotiation
and legislative action, in an about-turn that was nothing short of sensational.
Some might argue that what happened today was simply the culmination of a much longer-term lack of strategic vision on the part of Armenia’s leaders: in view of Armenia’s resulting dependence on Russia, the only reasonable
thing left for Sargsyan to do when ordered to jump would be to ask ‘how high?’. In that sense, the cynicism in the post-meeting statement that Armenia
had made a ‘rational’ choice was palpable. But those pointing to Armenia’s pre-existing
dependence on its northern neighbour as an exceptional circumstance miss
several important points with implications for far larger participants in the Eastern Partnership programme.
Firstly, those who dismiss Armenia as an exceedingly
dependent, and, therefore, unimportant exception should ask themselves why, in
light of its dependence, and Yerevan's almost impeccable record in accommodating
Russia’s concerns, Moscow would still have insisted on its head of state
performing such a humiliating about-turn. Armenia already being so dependent, adding it to the Eurasian Customs
Union would surely have made only a minute difference to the bilateral strategic relationship
with Moscow? Did Russia pressure Armenia
– rather opportunistically - because it
could get away with it? Or did it
pressure Yerevan to make a broader point, to both the European Union and the
near abroad? The odds are that Moscow was
pursuing a rather more substantial prize than little Armenia with its approach.
This feeds into my second point, on the increasingly
imperial nature of Putin’s attitude towards the former Soviet Union. Russia might have mastered the neo-liberal
narratives of ‘economic expediency’, it might keep up the formal niceties of
Westphalian sovereignty (at least outside of Georgia), but it retains a highly hierarchical view of the ‘near
abroad’ which has been reinvigorated in recent years. The various problems with ‘food hygiene’, and
implicit threats against migrants of former Soviet states that would not want
to join Putin’s pet project could (and probably should) be seen as the 21st-century
disciplinary practices of empire, reinforced, in the broader societal narrative, by an uncritical acceptance of Russia’s
colonising past and a profiling of collective ‘Russian’ values against
decadent, individualist ‘Western’ ones.
These claims to ‘civilisational alterity’ from the West, of
cultural specificity – referred to in Russian as samobytnost – have been taken over by pro-Russian
nationalist and traditionalist groups throughout the Soviet Union. They were particularly visible in Armenia, in
the run-up to the volte-face by Serj Sargsyan, with a host of conservative
groups and individuals viciously and at times mendaciously campaigning against
the use of the term ‘gender’ in the country’s EU-mandated gender equality
legislation. Artificially mobilised or
not, these homophobic and misogynistic groups saw the choice between
Russia and the EU as one between two competing value-systems: Russian/Eurasian – based
on authoritarian, patriarchal collectivism – and European – based on liberal, egalitarian individualism.
This creates a double danger further afield, with Europe's soft power being confronted by an entirely warped Russian version of the same. Firstly, by constructing Russian (and former
Soviet) values as fundamentally different, Russia constitutes an
effective mobilising mechanism among its sympathisers throughout its region,
one that can be used, in conjunction with ‘harder’ economic levers, to hammer
home the message of ‘Eurasian separateness’.
This is especially true in places like the Eastern Ukraine, with its Russian
speakers; a little bit of homophobia can do wonders in getting those Eurosceptic
juices flowing. Secondly, and more
importantly, the promise of unfettered authoritarianism being construed as
‘culturally innate’ can sound appealing to semi-criminalised politicians and
oligarchs that litter the region’s elites (as Putin would know).
EU conditionalities can be a pain sometimes; Russian tutelage comes with
no such (domestic) strings attached.
It is, of course, possible that all of this is an
unfortunate misunderstanding, and that president Serj Sargsyan did have a
sudden, miraculous Pauline conversion to the Eurasian Customs Union in the hallowed
halls of the Kremlin today. Alternatively,
Putin might have decided to make a point by humiliating the head of state of
one of his closest allies, in the name of higher aims. In any case,
Europe’s policymakers will ignore this smallish (?) incident at their, and the Eastern Partnership’s,
peril.
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