A few months ago, I posed the question – was Putin’s Eurasian Uniona pre-electoral sideshow, or a fully-fledged quest for renewed empire? I believe this question has been answered
beyond a reasonable doubt in recent days.
But should that surprise anyone? Since 1991, maintaining control over
its ‘Near Abroad’ has clearly been part of Russia’s core interests. Even while the Kremlin paid lip service to
the territorial integrity and sovereignty of ‘its’ former Soviet Republics, it
countered any attempt by them to join Euro-Atlantic structures with subversion, and, in Georgia’s case, successful provocation and open military intervention. Dimitri Medvedev – once supposedly the
‘friendly’, Westernised face of the Putin regime – publicly declared this
policy when he referred to Russia’s ‘sphere of privileged interests’ during the Georgian-Russian war of 2008. And even under Boris Yeltsin, Western
policymakers knew perfectly well that inviting former Soviet Republics to join
NATO would have been inviting mischief; they had enough trouble convincing the
Russians to accept any form of eastwards expansion, full stop.
In a post-Cold War International Society built on liberal
principles, ‘spheres of interest’ are an outdated concept, as is the concept of
‘empire’. But Russia’s elites have, especially
under Putin, held onto principles that cannot but be described as neo-imperial,
reformulating them in 21st-century terms – and turning Russia into a
hydrocarbon-fuelled great power in the process.
The liberal West may find the concept of ‘empire’ anathema; and, in
fact, its discrediting in today’s post-colonial world means that it will be
carefully hidden in a wide range of euphemisms so as not to affect the imperial
power’s standing. But claims to
‘leadership’ – global in the case of
the United States, regional in the
case of Russia – are often dead giveaways in a game that, in a world of formal
sovereign equality, must be conducted with a familiar measure of hypocrisy and
doublespeak.
Russia is still, very much, an empire. And it has never existed except as an empire.
Under the Romanovs, when the word was still a source of international prestige,
it basked in its imperial power, creating an intricate hierarchy of nations
under the rule of an autocrat, a
hierarchy that became increasingly Russo-centric with the emergence of
nationalism in the late 19th century. It remained an empire under the formally
anti-colonial Bolsheviks: all their anti-imperialist rhetoric notwithstanding,
the USSR’s civilising mission was still a
hierarchical affair, and save for a brief, initial period when Russian
chauvinism was seen as ‘the great danger’, Russia
in particular was portrayed as being in the vanguard of the march towards
socialism and the creation of the Soviet man.
The Romanovs and Bolshevik civilising missions might have disappeared,
but Russia’s leaders – who emerged from the dark core of the Soviet regime - haven’t
lost the sense of hierarchy they inherited regarding the peoples of
Eurasia. Two hundred years later, they
still portray themselves as the guarantors of civilisation in a region they still
very much see as their own; only now, they had adopted the liberal terminologies of free market economics - including regional integration - and the upholding of international
law when it comes to rationalising their Eurasian projects.
Putin’s instrumentalisation of the liberal vocabulary is not limited
to the international sphere; his idea of sovereign democracy, where both civil
society and popular sovereignty in effect become hollowed-out shells directed
from behind the scenes by a murky elite, is an almost perfect analogy. On
paper, there are ‘free’ elections – only, with carefully pre-determined
results; laws are promulgated and enforced by the courts – with background guidance
from the executive branch, where necessary; the media are free to print and
broadcast at will – that is, until they cross a line and some regulatory body
or the tax authorities shuts them down. Just like his sovereign democracy,
Putin’s adherence to liberal values in international affairs is one of
stage-management and make-believe, an instrumentalisation of liberal narratives
towards the Russian - still-imperial - state. Just like it ‘creates’ its own
voters, the contemporary Russian state ‘creates’ its own humanitarian victims
to save – lest it be accused of imperialism. The stated need for economic
integration in the post-Soviet space similarly emerges from the need to cloak
an essentially geo-political, imperial project in the mantle of contemporary
liberal Salonfähigkeit.
This presents the Western policymaking community and commentariat with
a particular problem. Russia itself has
adopted liberalism’s economic and political vocabulary, and its policies are
therefore evaluated by their
yardsticks. But this, inevitably, risks
failures of communication that, in turn, lead to situations we have in the
Ukraine today. First, it risks judging
Moscow’s notions of ‘rationality’ by liberal criteria. When, for instance, it is said that an EU
Association Agreement with Ukraine would also economically benefit Russia (the
classical liberal positive-sum argumentation), it runs into Russia’s singular preoccupation
with old-fashioned zero-sum territorial geopolitics. When the Kremlin is judged to have ‘lost
Ukraine’ because of its inability to convince ‘the Ukrainian people’, it is,
again judged by a liberal yardstick of soft power, which the EU possesses in
great quantities (at least for those remaining outside of its borders). Russia has very little soft power in
comparison; it has, however, plenty of relative hard power in ‘its’ near abroad,
and so is left to play by those rules of the game – without acknowledging it,
as that would, again, not be conform to the grammar of contemporary
international relations.
Russia’s leaders talk the talk, but don’t think it, and most
certainly don’t walk it. They have their red lines, and these red lines run somewhere along the outer border of the former Soviet Union. They have their world-view, and it is a
world-view where concepts like international law, human rights, and economic
expediency are instrumentalised towards the state interest, in Machiavellian
fashion. Insofar as they are the
red lines and world-views of a nuclear-armed great power, they should be respected – especially
as they may not change any time soon. Russia’s sense of territorial
hierarchy has survived a revolution, and the end of the Cold War; to pin it on
one person – Putin – and expect it to dissipate with the disappearance of his
regime would be a grave mistake. It runs
much deeper than that; the West, and the unfortunate states on the other side
of Moscow’s red lines will have to live with this knowledge, and incorporate it
into their policymaking, lest they trigger the instabilities that challenges to
a great power’s core interests inevitably produce.
2 comments:
Excellent piece, though I think assuming that the West doesn't have a geopolitical agenda (what you seem to take as a given when contrasting Russian actions with those of the West?) is of course false. In other words, Russia isn't unique in playing this game (even if its still to perfect and polish its techniques), os it?
its an excellent piece. I also though of Russia as imperialist in the way they deal with the nations at their borders. but those same liberal ideas that are manipulated by the russian elite are interpreted quite directly by a growing number of the russian population that do question what all that empire building gives them, they are proud to show their liberalism and will feel the pinch of world ostracism.
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