9 | SOURCES OF FUTURE CONFLICTS
Quo vadis, Russia?
The question has been asked many times. Today, as before, a discussion of this kind is bound to take Nikolai Gogol’s famous scene in his great novel Dead Souls about the speeding troika as its starting point:
And you, Russia of mine—are you not also speeding like a troika which no one can overtake? Is not the road smoking beneath your wheels and the bridges thundering as you cross them and everything being left in the rear, and the spectators, struck with the portent, halting to wonder whether you are not a thunderbolt launched from heaven? What does that awe-inspiring progress of yours foretell? What is the unknown force which lies within your mysterious steeds?
It is a wonderful opening of a great novel, the troika swift as a bird and the awe-inspiring progress. But as a description of contemporary Russia, it is a bit over the top. Are the oligarchs and the siloviki truly overtaking the whole world? Is our troika forcing all nations, all empires, to stand aside? Above all, whither are you speeding, Russia of mine? But there is no answer as yet.
Nor should one exaggerate the speed of our troika. Past attempts to predict future trends in Russia point to the difficulties and limits of such endeavors. Consider one study published in 1990, carried out when Gorbachev was in power and the Soviet Union still existed. Soviet Union 2000: Reform or Revolution? (edited by Walter Laqueur, New York, 1990) assessed the prospects of political change as follows:
The style of Russian politics for centuries has been authoritarian and so has been to a large degree the mentality of rulers and ruled alike. This may change, but only as the result of a cultural revolution affecting wide sections of the population. Such revolutions have occurred, but they have always taken a long time to unfold. It is easy to replace one set of rulers with another. It is infinitely more difficult to eradicate the mentality of unfreedom, to inculcate a spirit of civic responsibility, initiative, tolerance, and willingness to compromise. These features were never ranking high on the tsarist or Bolshevik political agenda. The transition from a totalitarian regime to a democratic system, even a guided democracy, is a period of enormous tensions and difficulties.
The study further assessed correctly the likelihood of authoritarian rule and the improbability of the introduction and maintenance of a democratic system in Russia:
A desire for change will not result in the adoption of Western liberal ideas and values. Liberalism was never deeply rooted in Russian history, its influence was limited, by and large, to sections of the intelligentsia, and even among them it was adopted by only a minority. Today, the general belief is that Western-style liberalism may be well suited for Western-style liberal society, especially for smaller countries in which social and national conflicts are not rampant. But in a society such as the Soviet Union which lacks this, any such institutional change would be a disaster. The country has never yet reached such a degree of maturity needed, nor is it likely to do so in the foreseeable future.
Some leading intellectuals are preaching the virtues of greater tolerance, more freedom of speech, and common sense rather than doctrinaire fanaticism in politics, and they look with envy to the higher political culture of some European countries. Even the greatest optimists among them feel the need for a strong hand to control the reform for a long time to come. They point to the fact that every reform in Russian history from the importation of potatoes onwards has been introduced by order from above, usually against much resistance.
This at a distance of twenty-five years seems a fairly accurate description of Putinism, with its “vertical” style of command politics. What could not be foreseen at the time was the disintegration of the Soviet Union and the subsequent attempts to restore it, the chaotic conditions of the Yeltsin era, and how far the reaction against it would go—the emergence of the oligarchs and the siloviki. Nor was the growing influence of the Orthodox Church fully appreciated. The experience of the Russia 2000 study shows that it was far easier to predict long-term trends than short-term events.
A second study, published by the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), had the great advantage of proceeding after seven years of Putin’s rule, as the country had calmed down and an internal balance of power had emerged. Whereas the 1990 study did not attempt to achieve a consensus among its contributors but merely presented individual opinions, the CSIS study more ambitiously attempted just that, only to realize that there were wide divergences of opinion and a consensus could not be reached.
It presented various scenarios for a ten-year period (2007–17) and got much of it right. But it underrated the extent of the hardening of domestic and foreign policy and the influence of various ideologues of the Far Right on the policy of the regime. It overrated the impact of some trends, including the high level of education of the population; this had been true in the past but has declined in view of the reduction of allocations for education by the government. The diversification of the economy was overrated. All leading spokesmen agreed on the necessity to work toward this aim, but little has been achieved.
Skolkovo, which was to be the center of innovation, ran into serious trouble early on mainly as the result of squabbles among various bureaucracies, and there were charges of corruption. It was one of the reasons for the downfall of Vladislav Surkov, Putin’s long-term chief of staff.
The CSIS study stated, “It is not only entirely possible, but likely, that Russia will be the largest economy in Europe by 2017.” Judging from a 2014 perspective, this seems unlikely; at present, the Russian GDP is trailing not only the German GDP, but those of France, the United Kingdom, and even Italy. This could change, but not in the near future.
Any discussion of Russia’s future has to start with its demographic prospects. The history of such forecasts is replete with mistakes. For the three decades after the Franco-Prussian War of 1870–71, which France lost against Germany, it was commonly assumed that the French would die out. Similar predictions were the fashion in the 1920s, even though France had been among the victors in World War I, but the bloodletting that had occurred had been so horrible that this seemed the obvious perspective. In 1974 the Club of Rome, a greatly respected semiofficial think tank predicted that the world would come to an end very soon as the result of overpopulation because “we were breeding too much and too because fast.”
Since then there has been greater caution; forecasters have often submitted an optimistic as well as a pessimistic scenario, and sometimes even a third somewhere in the middle. Inasmuch as Russia is concerned, the forecasts have ranged from “the bear is dying out” to “the Russian situation is not worse than that of other countries.”
Nevertheless, there are certain figures that are not in dispute; the trends are similar to those of other developed countries. The Russian fertility rate was 6–7 percent a hundred years ago. It went down to about 1.9 percent in the 1960s and is at present 1.6 percent. This is slightly more than in other East European countries but less than the reproduction rate of 2.1 percent. It means that in the decades to come Russia’s population will decline, not immediately but quite substantially in a span of 20–30 years. Russia’s population is 143 million at present; according to U.S. statistics, it will be down to 109 million by 2050. According to Russian statistics, it will decline only to about 130 million. There are many estimates in between. The more optimist projections are based on a number of assumptions such as substantial immigration at the rate of 400, 000 or more a year and improved health services (which will ensure people live longer). Tax relief and direct grants may be given to families with two children or more. To these and other unpredictable factors could be added the possibility that Russia may occupy and incorporate further territories with Russian speakers such as Eastern Ukraine and Transnistria, in which case the outlook will improve from a Russian point of view—certainly in the short run.
On the other hand, a price will have to be paid for most of the measures that may (or may not) be taken to boost the birthrate or the size of the population. Massive immigration of non-ethnic Russians will provoke xenophobia. During the first decade after the fall of the Soviet Union, the majority of immigrants were ethnic Russians from states like Kazakhstan. But most of those who wanted to immigrate have by now done so.
Those who can now be expected to immigrate to Russia are mainly non-Russians. The number of illegal immigrants is unknown; estimates vary between 10 and 20 million. Most illegal immigrants in Russia now, as well as those who are likely to come, are Muslims, which may create social and political problems. According, to the Moscow Institute of National Strategy, if current demographic trends continue, a very high percentage of the population of Russia (including migrants and minorities) will be non-ethnic Russians by the middle of the present century.
Official Russian policy concerning immigration rests on the assumption that non-Russians will be integrated within a relatively short period. But such willingness to be integrated cannot be taken for granted. Historical experience all over the world shows that such integration has seldom if ever taken place quickly, and quite frequently there has been considerable resistance to it. Quite often, it has taken place only superficially—such as acquiring a knowledge of the language of the host country. Russia, unlike Australia, Canada, and the United States, has not been a country with a tradition of accepting and integrating immigrants; xenophobia has been known for a long time. Such a perspective, if true or even if only approximately true, would provide an additional motive for the Russian leaders to incorporate regions of the former Soviet Union inhabited by ethnic Russians.
Why attribute great importance to this issue? Virtually all developed countries face a decline in population, and there are various reasons why this should not necessarily be considered a disaster at all. But Russia is not Belgium or Bulgaria; it is a big country with strong aspirations to great power status, a country that feels it has a mission to fulfill. What is the Russian manifest destiny, and why can it be fulfilled if it counts 150 million citizens but not half or even less?
This has been discussed for a long time, and it will continue to be debated. But before entering these deep waters, mention should be made, even if only briefly, of another consideration: Russia’s great weakness as a Raum ohne Volk (a space without people), or rather with very few people. In 1926 a German writer named Hans Grimm had published a book entitled Volk ohne Raum, which almost instantly became a bestseller and remained one for the next nineteen years. The action took place in Africa, where the author had lived for a long time. He was not a member of the Nazi Party but was deeply convinced that his country was doomed because of a lack of living space. For this reason, there was a vital need for colonies that Germany had lost in World War I. Hitler, like most others of the Far Right, shared Grimm’s conviction but not his concentration on Africa. He did not think that colonies in Africa would solve Germany’s problems. Hence the German expansion eastward and the invasion of the Soviet Union.
Any discussion of Russia’s future must undertake to examine the psychically resonant concept of an eternal Russia with a great messianic mission to fulfill. This dominating mind-set is of considerable relevance in the present context, underlying present and future Russian policy. It has appeared in various forms and under various names and goes back a long time. It serves as a justification for Russian imperial policy and statism, but it is also used as a purely theological concept. For a while, it was thought even by some non-Communists that bolshevism was the Russian idea, the major contribution of the country to mankind. With the fall of the Soviet Union, the need for a new ideology arose. Under Boris Yeltsin, there was a competition for formulating a new national idea. But this was a more complicated endeavor than agreeing on a new national anthem, and it was given up—only to be renewed under Putin. Even daily newspapers participated in the search for national identity.
Since then, a great many suggestions in this direction have been made, mainly by ideologues on the right wing of the political spectrum. Philosopher Igor Chubais, for instance, has proposed Christianity, the gathering of the lands, and communitarianism. On the more sophisticated religious-philosophical level, the search went back to Byzantium, which regarded itself as the only legitimate representative of true Christianity. (After the fall of Byzantium, Russia regarded itself as the only legitimate heir to this tradition.)
The next major impetus in this search for a new ideology came in the nineteenth century. With respect to the formulation of a national idea, there was the famous definition, the so-called triad, by Sergey Uvarov, minister of education (“Orthodoxy, absolute rule, and narodnost”), which first appeared in an office memorandum sent in 1833 to a number of educators. The czar liked the formula, and some leading intellectuals backed it. It became the official formula up to the revolutions of 1917, even though “nationality” (narodnost) was a vague concept and its English translation wholly unsatisfactory.
Later on, the expression “Russian idea” was coined by Vladimir Solovyov in 1888. But the Solovyov concept of a Russian idea concerned itself with spiritual issues rather than empire building. The same was true with regard to Nikolai Berdyaev, the best-known Russian philosopher-theologian of the century after. In his famous book The Russian Idea, he dealt with the eschatological and prophetic character of Russian thought, the Russian people being a “people of the end and Russian philosophy being of a religious character.”
Solovyov and Berdyaev were patriots, but no one has been more devastating in his comments on the paranoia of the Russian extreme Right than Solovyov. And as for Berdyaev’s comments in 1908, the following observation on the chauvinism of the Far Right should suffice: “It was barbaric and stupid, pagan and immoral in inspiration, full of Eastern wildness and darkness, an orgy of the old Russian dissoluteness” (“O russkom natsionalism” in Slovo December 7, 1908). One could hardly think of a harsher judgment. Solovyov and Berdyaev were two of the three authors recommended by Putin to Russia’s senior officials for Christmas reading in 2013. However, while Putin recommended the right authors, he chose the wrong books. He did not include what they had to say about the deformities of Russian nationalism, for they had become part of the emerging state ideology. This became clear from a document published in May 2014 presenting guidelines for official support for a Russian culture (in line with the spirit of the Putin age), based in considerable part on excerpts from speeches made by Putin on various occasions and declaring that “Russia is not Europe.”
It is an interesting statement, even though no one had recently claimed that Russia was Europe. The document argues that while tolerance has always marked Russian history and culture, there must be limits to tolerance; otherwise, it might be interpreted as an ill-placed and dangerous concession to foreign (hostile) influences and as approval of traditions and values alien to the Russian spirit. In other words, it is an all-out attack against modernist trends in Russian and world culture. It mentions, for instance, Kazimir Malevich as an example of worthless artists. Such attacks are not new in history (the “Decadent Art” exhibition in Munich, July 1937). Not all modern art is of the highest value, will last forever, or fetch prices at auctions like at present. Malevich’s Suprematic Composition (1916), sold by Sotheby’s in 2008 for $60 million, the highest price ever achieved for a Russian picture. Whether this is the true worth of this “composition” or whether it is wildly exaggerated is an open question. Some of the paintings highly valued today might be considered preposterous by future generations. For the time being, auction prices will not be greatly influenced by the approval or disapproval of Malevich’s antimodernist compatriots.
One of the authors of the document is the historian Vladimir Medinsky, Russia’s minister of culture (and tourism), a controversial figure, as many of his colleagues claim. However, conservative cultural criticism is not only legitimate but necessary. The authors quote a number of Western and Russian cultural figures to make their case more powerful, including Arnold Toynbee, Sam Huntington, and the early Zionist leader Max Nordau, who wrote a witty, undeservedly forgotten attack against modern art in the 1890s. His name and work are now known to a few specialists only. The Russian authors also adduce as anti-modernist experts for the prosecution several authorities such as I. Rossolimo and I. A. Gundarov, who, if indeed they exist, are unknown even among the specialists. The case made in the document is legitimate inasmuch as a defense of Russian culture is concerned, assuming that such a defense is at all necessary.
If the minister of culture and tourism is guilty of massive plagiarism, as claimed by his critics, his defenders might argue that the same accusations have been made with regard to several contemporary German government ministers (the difference being that in Germany, such charges if found correct had consequences—in Russia they did not).
The fact that Medinsky’s dissertation was passed generated bitter exchanges in the Russian academic world. Writing about early Western visitors to Russia, Medinsky dismissed all those who had something critical to say as liars and Russophobes—for example, Sigismund von Herberstein (1486–1566) an Austrian diplomat who knew some Russian and had therefore more access than other foreigners. His book is one of the earliest detailed reports; it was also translated in English and is generally considered a reliable, detailed source. There is some occasional snobbism in his approach, the cultivated European looking down on the primitive Russian. But since there is little doubt that Europe was at the time on a more advanced cultural level, this is not surprising, nor does it appear in an extreme form. However, for Medinsky, this is Russophobia tout court, and his attitude to other early visitors, including some from England, is the same, such as for instance the report of the poet, diplomat, and traveler Giles Fletcher the Elder (1548–1611), a member of Parliament who wrote Of The Russe Commonwealth. Medinsky says about him: “His writings are evil slander about the Russian state, its rulers and people.” But he failed to show mastery of the sources of his criticism, and many of his opponents compared the level of his writing to that of a first-year student. His defenders, on the other hand, said that though his writing was perhaps somewhat unorthodox, it was permeated with love for Russia, and this in the last resort was what mattered most.
Is it the business of a government to intervene in cultural debates? Assuming that Putin and Medinsky are right in claiming that Russia and Russian culture have nothing good to expect from foreigners, that Russian culture is superior to European culture, that Russia is also morally superior, praising its openheartedness and hospitality—is such boasting helpful and in good taste? The answer could be that contemporary Russia is not a democracy (at least not as understood in the West), that it is a “guided democracy,” a term invented by Sukarno of Indonesia, and that therefore Western yardsticks do not apply.
Why deal with Medinsky and the cultural guidelines of his Ministry of Education and Tourism? Because they point to a certain basic approach that will be taken by Russia’s rulers in the years to come. While education in a patriotic spirit and the inculcation of the population with traditional values, putting the emphasis on achievements rather than shortcomings and failures, is natural and has been practiced everywhere, the wholesale suppression of negative events and trends and the systematic denigration of other cultures are dangerous actions even in wartime, let alone in a period of peace. It creates, perpetuates, and exacerbates conflicts and makes normal relations difficult. Would it not be more appropriate for a government to increase its support for education and cultural purposes in order to halt the decline in standards that has been going on in Russia for some considerable time? The climate of suspicion with respect to foreigners has been traditionally strong in Russia: Unless giving fulsome praise to things Russian without exception—the Russian people’s deep spirituality, the Russian soul, the Russian idea, and the untranslatable shirokaya natura—the foreigner must be considered an enemy out to harm the country and be treated as such.
The whole approach is disconcerting. Official spokesmen of the regime will deny any hostility toward the West, which (they say) would be incompatible with the traditional friendliness and trust shown by Russians toward foreigners. Unfortunately, the evidence points to a different direction, boding ill for Russia’s relations with the outside world in the years to come.
Russophobia and Zapadophobia (fear of the West)
The search for identity continues in Russia, not on the high level of abstraction it did two hundred years ago, but still with a great deal of passion. Underlying it is the conviction that Russia is not Europe and that there is a giant conspiracy to destroy Russia. Accompanying it is another set of beliefs that whatever went wrong in Russia is the fault of foreigners; the idea that Russians too may be responsible is alien and inappropriate. Thanks to this mind-set, Russia has no need even to consider a little self-criticism.
The intellectual roots of this thinking go back to the impact of German romanticism, which coincided with the war against Napoleon and the rise of nationalism in Europe. The German Romantic school had an enormous influence in Russia, and no philosopher was more popular than Friedrich Schelling, who was almost thought to be a Russian philosopher, just as Friedrich Schiller was believed to be a Russian poet. Among Schelling’s correspondents were Fyodor Tyutchev and Sergey Uvarov, the future minister of education and author of the famous “triad” (“Orthodoxy, absolute rule, and narodnost”). Schelling was a philosopher of wide interests, largely responsible for the ideas of a “national soul” and a world soul (anima mundi). These concepts in turn go back much further and had to do with what Schelling called “the spirit of nature”; but they could also be applied to politics. In the case of Russia, they led to messianism and the belief in a manifest destiny. This gave the Slavophiles a new impulse. Konstantin Aksakov wrote that the West (the Western soul) was exhausted and in decline. Conscience was replaced by law, inner motives by regulations. It was Russia’s historical task to continue its search for a national idea from where the West had gone wrong.
Such disillusionment was not, however, limited to the right wing and the Slavophiles. Alexander Herzen had come to the West full of admiration and willing to follow the Western lead, but after a few years disappointment set in. The same with Mikhail Bakunin, who arrived in Berlin a confirmed Westerner. But the first thing he saw on the wall of a building was a giant Prussian eagle, under it an inscription announcing that this was the workplace of a tailor. The inscription read:
Unter deinen Fluegeln
Kann ich ruhig buegeln.
Meaning, “Under your wings can I safely iron.”
But Bakunin and his friends had not come to the West to iron in safety. They hated pragmatism.
From this kind of disillusionment, it was only a step or two away from distancing oneself from the West and the search for a national idea. Much of the time, the Russian intelligentsia could not make up their minds whether their country was moving toward a brilliant future or a disaster.
They were not willing to give up hope entirely: Slavophiles such as Ivan Kireyevsky declared that they still loved Europe. But many believed that only Russia was still in full bloom of its forces in the age of maturity, although even early on in the age of Mikhail Lermontov there were dire forebodings:
The day will come for Russia, that dark day, when the czar’s diadem will fall.
Similar forebodings appeared in European countries, but how seriously should they be taken? It was an age of great confusion, not only among Russians, but also among those who were trying to understand Russia from afar. The Russian intelligentsia was asking: Should we stick with Europe or leave it for good?
Such negativity toward Europe was rooted not so much in disillusionment as in a feeling of inferiority. And since Russia never believed in the virtues of moderation, this led to the dangerous extremes of hostility and suspicion. It would have mattered less if such animosity had been limited to a small minority, such as can be found in every country. But there is reason to believe that it became a majority view from the days of the Slavophiles.
German Romantics were forever in search of the famous blue flower, just as Russian nationalists were looking for the Russian idea. Neither search was successful, for there was no blue flower and no Russian idea except on the level of mythology. But since myths were needed, attempts were made to produce them synthetically. Artifical flowers, if well done, may look like the real thing, but they are not real flowers—and the same goes for the Russian idea. When Berdyaev was looking for the Russian idea, he meant God’s view of Russia. The searches in our time aimed at articulating (or perhaps transforming) a religious and metaphysical search into a pragmatic quest for a state ideology, which the authorities thought was needed to establish unity and a sense of common purpose, away from cosmopolitanism. Those who failed to accept the new consensus were traitors and had to be eliminated.
There is general agreement that Russian attitudes toward the West and democracy have deteriorated over the last decade or two. When asked in 2008 whether Western society was a good model for Russia, around 80 percent said “no,” about the highest negative response rate in Europe and one of the highest in the world. Russia’s Levada Center—an independent sociological research organization based in Moscow—carried out an investigation that reached more positive results: About 60 percent were in favor of democracy rather than a strong hand. But of this 60 percent, about half wanted a democracy in consonance with Russia’s needs, which could be interpreted as Putinism rather than democracy.
These negative attitudes are no doubt closely connected with the negative concomitants of the reforms of the 1990s, the emergence of a class of oligarchs. They were also influenced by massive doses of indoctrination by the official media. It was assumed by some that attitudes toward democracy would change for the better with growing prosperity, but this has not been the case. Standards of living have improved, but this has not generated more democracy.
Even when all allowances have been made, there is no doubt that support for the strong hand in Russia is as powerful as ever and belief in democracy rather weak. If anything, the situation in this respect has deteriorated, and the question arises as to whether and in what conditions it may be possible to witness a lessening of the hostility toward the West and support for freedom and democracy.
However, at the same time, the pressure for regional autonomy has been growing all over this immense country, probably an inevitable process precisely because of its very size. It is by no means identical with separatism, but it still faces bitter hostility on the part of the Kremlin and its insistence on the preeminence of state power and an unwillingness to make concessions. It is easy to foresee tensions in the context of these conflicts. The opposition lost the battle against the government because it showed insufficient patriotism at the time of the reconquest of Crimea. But it could well be that these new tensions, the demand for more regional autonomy, could be the new main battlefield between the central power and a rising opposition—namely, the strong local interests.
A few years ago, the Valdai Discussion Club, a semiofficial Russian institution established in 2004 to promote dialogue between the Russian and international intellectual elite, commissioned a report on the Russian national identity. It consulted men and women from all sides of the political spectrum, and there was general agreement that a Russian identity did exist. But what was it? Historically, the Russian character is freedom-loving and long-suffering: “We are open to other cultures and religions,” it said. “We are brave and cordial. We are showy and talented. We have strong willpower and know how to win. However, we have forgotten most of the qualities on this list in the course of the past twenty years. On the other hand, we allowed ourselves to promote the worst qualities of our national character: sloth, pessimism, predatory individualism, irresponsibility, and total mistrust of others.” The report also mentioned a “finely tuned sense of fairness, which is a wider notion than justice in the Western world.” It noted that over the past twenty years, the values of Russia’s citizens have changed, and not for the better. Among values of today’s Russians, material well-being and consumption take first place: 55 percent in 2006, compared with 31 percent in 1986. Given Russia’s highly unequal income distribution, this leads to an even greater fragmentation of society and growth of social tensions.
The quest for a definition of Russian national character and for the Russian idea of tomorrow is bound to remain elusive. What are the prospects for moderation, for a lessening of anti-Westernism and mistrust, for a restoration at least in part of the values of freedom and humanism, for a turning away from autocracy to greater freedom? If the reactionaries have been strong in Russia, the party of freedom, even if very weak at present, has a deep tradition in the history of the country. What are its prospects in the foreseeable future? Such sea changes in the mood have occurred in many countries throughout history, and they can by no means be ruled out in Russia, even if the chance may appear dim at the moment. In what circumstances are they likely to occur in Russia?
History shows that such changes have taken place, for instance, in the case of a lost war or a major economic crisis. But they have also occurred when the party in power outstayed its welcome and failed to deliver its promise. It has happened out of boredom or with the appearance of a new generation—the result of generational conflict. It has happened for no apparent reason at all or because the party in power and its ideology lost whatever dynamism and attractive power it initially had. There is no full accounting for all these conditions, just as there are no full explanations for the fact that some nations in history rise and others fall, that some recover from setbacks that appear devastating, irreversible, and final, whereas others never recover.
Some of the factors accounting for final decline or sudden recovery can, however, be singled out.
There are many varying economic predictions for Russia, and they come from all quarters. The aforementioned Valdai Discussion Club envisages four scenarios. According to a highly optimistic one, the revenues from oil and gas exports will be high, in the range of $146 per barrel. Therefore the government will be able and willing to carry out long-overdue economic reforms. In this case, Russian growth will be higher than in most other countries, and the per capita income in 2030 will be equal to that of Switzerland at present.
According to a more pessimistic forecast, the price of oil will be low, there will be no reforms, and the Russian economy will stagnate. In this case, Russian growth will be lower than elsewhere, about 2 percent, and per capita income will be about that of the Czech Republic at the present time.
More likely, according to Russian economists, are two “centrist” scenarios. One rests on the assumption that the price of oil will be $94 a barrel, but sweeping reforms will be carried out. The other prognosis rests on the assumption of a relatively high price for oil ($140 per barrel), but there will be few reforms and on a local level only. In this case, a per capita income similar to that of France at the present time is expected. As these lines are written (January 2015), Russian forecasts predict recession—a change in the fortunes expected only in 2017.
In the course of these debates, which took place in November 2012, some interesting facts emerged. Sociologists reported that there is a substantial desire for reforms among those whose income is above average. However, some 68 percent of them want their children to study and work outside Russia at least for a number of years, and 37 percent want them to leave Russia for good. Why? Partly, no doubt, because of the general uncertainty about the future of the country, but mainly perhaps because the prospects of finding a suitable job for talented young people are bad.
Members of the Valdai group believe that the existence of a Eurasian economic sphere, including Kazakhstan, will have a positive effect on economic growth.
Another optimistic report published by Pricewaterhouse Coopers in 2013 sees reasonable chances for Russia to become Europe’s leading economy by 2030 and stay that way, surpassing Germany. However, this projection rests on the utopian premise that strict economic policies, not politics, will be the decisive factor driving the Russian economy.
Less sanguine is the prognosis made by Evsey Gurvich, a well-known Russian economist. He believes that the great majority of Russians want to live well but also wish their country to be a superpower. He doubts that both aims can be combined at the present time. Russia currently spends twice as much (4.5 percent) on military expenditure as the NATO countries, and the money needed for the armed forces will be available only if the health and education budgets are cut. Unless taxes are substantially increased (the current maximum rate is 13 percent), a higher military expenditure will mean lower life expectancy and lower literacy. Even at the present time, according to UN statistics, Russia places 134th out of 207 countries in life expectancy—lower than that in Bangladesh, Guatemala, Honduras, and other countries. Gurvich believes that the 2014 Crimea sanctions will have little immediate effect; however, they could significantly reduce the amount of foreign investment. In this case, the Russian growth rate will not be higher than 2 percent in the years to come and could even decrease to 1 percent.
The desire to have guns and butter at the same time may be psychologically understandable but is very risky. The attempt to accomplish this in the postwar period resulted in the “greatest geopolitical disaster of the century” (Putin), the collapse of the Soviet Union. In order to achieve substantial growth, Russia has to regain the trust of foreign investors; otherwise it will have neither guns nor butter and remain on the level of Turkey or Indonesia. Even at the present time, investments in Russia are relatively low, about 20 percent of the GNP, which is lower than the average for emerging markets. Furthermore, most of the investment at present goes to the energy sector, which is precisely the model from which, everyone agrees, Russia should try to get away, the dependence on the export of natural resources.
The Russian policy to regain some or all of the territories lost with the breakdown of the Soviet Union is acting as a booster of morale and has added to the popularity of its government. But it comes at a price.
Even before the incorporation of Crimea (the cost of which was $7 billion in 2014), Russia had to allocate substantial funds to South Ossetia and Abkhazia and to prop up the regimes in Belarus and Transnistria. The self-proclaimed eastern Ukraine republic owes Moscow at present $4 billion in unpaid gas bills. Russia has given substantial funds to Armenia, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan to maintain its influence in these parts, for keeping military bases in these countries and other purposes. It is unlikely that these allocations will decrease in the years to come.
Exact figures for these outlays do not exist. When Crimea was part of Ukraine, about two-thirds of its budget had to be covered by Kiev; Russia also contributes two-thirds of the Tajik budget. Altogether, the cost of empire at the present time could be in the range of $25 billion to $35 billion a year, which is about 6 percent of the Russian budget, not counting the cost of military and police forces. These are not enormous figures, but they are likely to increase; and if Moscow cannot fulfill its obligations or reduce its allocations, this will cause disappointment and resentment among the recipients, who had great and growing expectations as far as their relations with Russia were concerned. At the same time, there is bound to be grumbling in Russia if Russian health and education budgets are affected along with the funds originally scheduled to pay for the modernization of the Russian economy.
Russia will be able to pay the price for empire—if its economy flourishes. All depends on the price of oil and gas. And the level of oil prices depends on a number of circumstances that cannot be predicted, such as the world economic situation and the demand for oil and gas. It depends on the political situation in the Middle East, whether this region will be able to maintain or even increase its supplies. It depends on the political will of the EU, whether it will be able to agree on a common energy policy in order to lessen its dependence on Russian and Middle Eastern supplies. It depends on technological progress, which may make the use of alternative sources of energy considerably cheaper. It depends inter alia on the state of the infrastructure of the Russian oil and gas industry, whether Russia will be able to extract and deliver the amounts needed at costs to the producers that are not exorbitant.
There is a close connection between the cost of empire and economic factors.
The record of the Russian economy in the Putin years has been impressive. Putin’s main aim as far as the economy is concerned was stability. This was a sensible policy, but the very good years that generated even higher expectations for the future might be over. It seems unlikely that the modernization of the Russian economy will make significant progress in the years to come. It is expensive, and there is much resistance against it, which brings us back to the price of oil and gas. If Europe’s political weakness persists or even deepens in the years to come (which appears quite likely). The Russian economy does not have to fear a collapse. The reconquest of some of the last of their territories may also compensate for painful economic problems. But a weak Europe also means a weak economy and less demand. Given these uncertainties, all attempts to provide a helpful prognosis are bound to lead to a series of major question marks.
The Face of the Younger Generation
Basic political change has sometimes come as the result of an economic crisis, at other times following a war, won or lost. But it has also happened as the result of a new generation coming to the fore. Sometimes this has led to violent change by radical movements of a younger generation, such as fascism and communism. Sometimes such change has happened gradually, without a major upheaval.
One such example is the movement of a younger generation that emerged in France around 1900. Up to that time, the mood of that country had been largely pessimistic (indeed, defeatist) following the lost war against Germany; it was widely believed that France was finished. But then a new generation emerged—bored with the prevailing pessimism, preoccupied with sports, optimistic on the whole in outlook. Patriotic and even militarist rather than pacifist or defeatist, it built the Eiffel Tower, was the first to fly over the English Channel, and believed in the future of France.
The character of the younger generation in Russia, needless to say, is of paramount importance when thinking about the future of the country. Yet traditionally, little attention has been paid to it. In the late 1920s, a German student named Klaus Mehnert went to the Soviet Union and wrote a book that became something of a classic. He had been born in Moscow and in later years was to become a leading German Sovietologist. Mehnert observed that in the early years after the revolution, young people figured prominently in Soviet fiction, embraced as symbols of the country’s future. In later years or under glasnost, however, they were replaced by public opinion polls and sociological investigations.
The younger generation of the 1930s and, to a certain extent, those of the 1950s and 1960s were on the whole optimistic. As the favorite song of the time was putting it, “Molodim vezde u nas doroga” (“For the young all roads are open in our country”).
It was easy to be optimistic at the time when young—little did they know who went to summer camps about the harsh realities of life, about the cruelties of politics. It was the generation in the century before them that had been at the forefront of the struggle against despotism (and among the vanguard of the terrorists)—these young people had been among the most ardent supporters of the Communist regime, at least in the first decades.
As for the present, the investigations report that the key word concerning the young generation is “anomie,” a term coined by the sociologist Émile Durkheim in 1893. It means social disorder, alienation, purposelessness, and even lack of hope. It means a breakdown of social bonds between the individual and society. Mention has been made earlier of the increasing number of young Russians wishing to live abroad—this despite the fact that they have reason to believe they will be better off remaining in Russia (as opposed to immigrating to the West) than were their parents before them.
During the early days after the fall of communism in the Soviet Union, there was much optimism in Russia. Unfortunately, not much has remained of this optimism. How to account for it? According to recent studies, Russian young people feel alienated, misunderstood by their parents, and above all discriminated against. Some blame the high divorce rate and domestic violence. But the fact remains that while the young were until recently optimistic about the economic future of their country, they are now rather pessimistic concerning their own future, their chances to enjoy their careers, and the likelihood of making a decent living. They feel exploited. They believe that outside Moscow it is difficult to get a satisfactory job; in Moscow the chances are better, but the competition is much fiercer.
Their attitudes toward politics are highly contradictory. Support for Putin and his style of governing is greater among the young than among the older generation. But only some 24 percent reveal any interest in politics. Some 80 percent distrust the government, political parties, the parliament, and politics in general. It seems to be a matter of both distrust and boredom. Their knowledge of politics is very limited. They believe that Russia should be a great power not only respected but feared by others. It should be ruled by a strong hand. The main task for the president is to keep order in the country. The most popular politician after Putin is Vladimir Zhirinovsky, which is a sad reflection of their political maturity and moral values, their failure to understand the difference between a vision of the future of their country and a circus performance. The political outlook of this generation is largely shaped by government television. This indoctrination has been defined as “Western-style entertainment minus democracy” and it has been quite effective.
Opinion polls that took place in 2008 and more recent ones from 2014 carried out by the Levada Center1 did not show any major deviation from these trends. On the contrary, Putin’s approval rating following the events in Crimea and eastern Ukraine among respondents eighteen to twenty-four years old rose to 92 percent, higher than in the older age groups. There was overwhelming support for the manifestation of strength, near total identification with government power, and hatred against the enemy—the West and Ukrainian nationalists. More than 70 percent expressed satisfaction that Russia had again become a great power. When asked whether they preferred Russia as a great power respected and feared by other countries or as a country with a high living standard that was not one of the world’s strongest powers, 56 percent expressed their preference for the former variant. Again, such enthusiasm was somewhat lower among the older age groups.
On the other hand, the polls of 2014 showed almost total ignorance about the character of Russian society and its institutions; the knowledge of the younger generation was limited to their immediate surroundings. According to the great majority, there was a national leader deciding all important political issues concerning the present and the future of their country; the rest of the people had no influence on this, and there was no reason to change this state of affairs. Active participation in politics was not an issue, nor were any reforms of the system needed.
These opinion polls do not clarify to what extent these views reflect a permanent state of mind regarded as normal. Nor did they indicate whether this patriotic and profoundly antidemocratic upswing was a temporary phenomenon, likely to be affected by setbacks of the government on the foreign or domestic front. They seemed to show that Putin and other spokesmen of the regime were correct when they pointed out in discussions with the West that there were basic differences between Western democracy and the specific Russian type of “sovereign democracy.”
According to the evidence gathered, money and the adulation of power define the ideology of the younger generation. This is no longer Homo sovieticus. In its place, it seems, we are experiencing Homo putinus.
What has become of the great idealism and the revolutionary spirit of sacrifice of young nineteenth-century Russians? Once upon a time, there was the conviction that money was nothing, all that mattered was the boundless fervor to live in freedom and to build a new society and create a selfless new human being, a model for all mankind. The vision was naïve and utopian, but even those politically remote from these views could not fail to be impressed. The present lack of vision is striking.
For a while in the 1990s, it seemed certain Western fashions would find followers in Russia—punks, rappers, drivers and ravers, BMX, hashish consumers, heavy metal freaks, and young people spraying their slogans on the walls. But this was limited to a few big cities, and it did not last long. Elsewhere there was nothing but the traditional boredom and right-wing patriotism—although no one knew how deep it really went, except that foreigners (and oligarchs) were disliked. However, all across the country having money was thought to be of great importance.
Oppositionists in the younger generation exercised their rebellion through membership in various sects, including Oborona (Defense), Pora (The Time Is Ripe), and Da (Yes); but all of them turned out to be aimless, free-floating, and usually short-lived, thanks to a lack of inspiration on the part of their leaders.
Then someone in the leadership of the ruling United Russia party came to believe that the country needed a youth section (mainly as a counterforce against the possibility of a “color revolution” such as happened in Georgia and Ukraine). So in 2005, Vladislav Surkov, Putin’s chief of staff, created Nashi.
Under Surkov and Vasily Yakemenko, Nashi’s leader, the movement tried to attract conformist young people by using avant-garde techniques. In essence, Nashi was created to appeal to nonpolitical young people who still needed a dream, a certain image of the future. Unfortunately, the highbrow Surkov proved to be too much of a creative ideologist at a time when Russia needed less-politicized “effective functionaries” who could engage in more-concrete actions.
This new policy was outlined by President Putin, who went to one of the main annual camps of Nashi at Lake Seliger (near Tver), and other government speakers. Whether this new policy would succeed still remained an open question.
The political leadership was apparently not aware that a movement of this kind had to emerge from among the youth rather than the ruling elite of an older generation. There was nothing spontaneous about Nashi; there was no genuine need or desire. It was an artificial creation, and those responsible for it seem not to have been aware that such ventures seldom succeed. Nashi had at one time more than one hundered thousand members, but once the “color revolution” danger to the regime has passed, the movement ceased to be a political factor of any importance and lost government support. In 2010, Yakemenko announced that Nashi would cease to exist.
Various youth organizations continue to exist in Russia, including some with an ecological agenda, but the politically active ones are found mainly on the extremist wings, following the lead of the Communists and the neo-Fascists. The ideological differences between these two, once again, are not great. The Communists have little in common with the traditional Left and nothing at all with Marxism and internationalism; they have embraced not only patriotism but big-power chauvinism and have been looking for approval by the church. Those of the extreme Right share much of the program of the Communists. The two extremes have a common enemy—the liberals and the democrats, whom they call “liberasts.” They pretend to believe that all gays are liberals and democrats and vice versa. These two camps have frequently appeared together in demonstrations.
The influence of the extremists has often been overrated because they are the only ones able to mobilize thousands in their demonstrations. It is easily forgotten that such numbers do not mean much in a city of twelve million to fourteen million inhabitants such as Moscow. Given Putin’s strongly nationalist line and his turn against some oligarchs and big business, much wind has been taken out of their sails. But what if the economic situation deteriorated and the expectations of wide sections of the population were not fulfilled? What if overall political support for the present regime were to shrink?
By 2014 Putin and the government had reached the conclusion that Nashi had been a failure; both Surkov and Yakemenko were out of favor. Nashi had been too brash (harassing foreign ambassadors and opposition figures) but not hip enough. Their activities had been belligerent but did not have much response. But when the government faced demonstrations by all kinds of opposition groups at the end of 2011, Nashi failed to mobilize young people and to offer any alternative. Since then, it has almost disappeared from the scene and the headlines.
According to polls by the Levada Center, about 50 percent of Russians believe that their country needs an opposition; only 23 percent think it can manage without one. There is no opposition in the present Duma. The young generation of 2015 will be tomorrow’s voters. It is difficult to see the future opposition in this generation, but unforeseen circumstances may push them in this direction.
This molodaya gvardia (young guard) of 2014–15 is a strange generation, with often contradictory views and attitudes. It admires Putin but has no sympathy for politicians. Political apathy is dangerous, because it could mean that radical minorities may impose their views on the majority at a time of crisis. It is nationalist, but many of its members would prefer to leave Russia. It is also a sad generation: The suicide rate among young Russians is three times higher than in any other European country. According to many reports, the actual figures for youth suicide may be even higher than the official figures suggest because outside big cities “accident” is often given as the cause of death rather than suicide.
It is a conformist generation, in no way revolutionary, but there is nevertheless growing tension. As in other developed countries and societies, there was an unwritten social contract in the past; parents took care of their children, and when the parental generation grew old, the young took care of them. But now there are fewer young people and the old live longer. There will be a heavier burden on those who are young today. It is not an ideal generation for the kind of empire building Putin envisages or indeed for achieving any major purpose unless it can be done quickly and without much effort and sacrifice. The main interest of this generation is in business and financial security rather than the political character of the regime, whether there will be more or less freedom in Russia. The opposition cannot therefore expect much support from this age cohort.
Political and social attitudes may change, but it is too early to say in what direction.
The first years of the Putin era were devoted to economic and political stabilization and consolidation. Once this aim had been achieved, the main task became to strengthen Russia’s foreign political standing. Russia was no longer a superpower, and much territory had been lost. But given an auspicious international constellation, a weakened America, and a disunited Europe, the prospects improved for recovering at least some of what had been lost with the fall of the Soviet Union. Putin’s strategy rested mainly on the idea of a Eurasian project, but one that did not rule out recovering positions lost in Europe. This was based on the assumption that Russia was not only a European power, but also had a major presence in Asia and that Asia was going to play a role of increasing importance in world affairs.
It was a risky strategy. Russia’s presence in Asia is weak as far as its population is concerned—the number of Russians in the Far East has fallen by about 20 percent in as many years. Above all, increased Russian activity in Central Asia could lead to a conflict with China, which has also shown growing interest in these regions.
There had been substantial tensions between these two countries earlier on, culminating in fighting in 1969; but border disputes were settled in the Gorbachev years, and in 1998 a hot line was established between Beijing and the Kremlin to deal speedily with local crises if such should occur. During the last two decades, the border areas have been demilitarized and there have been a series of agreements between the two countries, mainly of an economic character—the energy trade, the building of pipelines to facilitate the export of oil and gas. However, Chinese and Russian interests in this respect are not identical. Both countries want to increase oil and gas output, but Russia wants to keep control over output and wishes to keep prices high, whereas China as a consumer wants low prices. As a safeguard, China has recently purchased several Kazakh oil companies. The Central Asian republics, in particular Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan, fear Russia more than China because of its physical proximity—Russia has military bases in the Central Asian republics, whereas China has not—and would like to play out one against the other. The Russian minority in Kazakhstan has been well treated—so much so that they nominated Nursultan Nazarbayev, the Kazakh president, for a Nobel Prize in 2013. Under a different leadership the situation could deteriorate, but given the country’s delicate situation even a future leadership will probably act cautiously.
The two governments have referred to their relationship as a “strategic partnership.” Russia supported China whenever the Tibet and Taiwan issues came up in an international forum, whereas China always defended Russia’s activities in the Caucasus. Military maneuvers have taken place under the auspices of the six-member Shanghai Cooperation Organization, which is largely preoccupied with the security of the area to face threats of terrorism and separatism. However, the treaty’s cooperation does not extend to an exchange of state-of-the-art military technology; Russia refrained from supplying to China most modern atomic technology.
An energy deal in 2014 envisaging a thirty-year gas supply from Russia to China estimated at $400 billion has been hailed by Moscow as a political achievement of great importance inasmuch as it will lessen Russian energy trade dependence on its European customers. Also in 2014, Russia established the Eurasian Economic Union with Kazakhstan and Belarus. Opinions differ as to the significance of this common market in the political and economic arenas. According to Putin, the long-term intention is to enlarge the customs union to all post-Soviet states (excluding only the Baltic countries). Armenia and Kyrgyzstan have indicated their interest to join the union, although some in Armenia oppose such a move, claiming it would limit its national sovereignty. China and other Asian countries have shown no interest thus far in joining this body, but neither have they opposed its existence.
Broadly speaking, both Russia and China have moved carefully in Central Asia in order not to infringe on each other’s interests. At present, China’s interest is limited to energy supply and certain minerals. Neither Russia nor China has so far shown any interest in the physical occupation of Central Asia. Russia has tried to maintain its traditional dominant political position in the area, but this has not generated any opposition on China’s part as long as its economic interests remain secure.
However, from a long-term perspective it seems doubtful whether Russia will be able to hold on to its present position because the demographic imbalance will probably be overwhelming. The ethnic Russian population in Asian Russia might decrease to below thirty million, whereas the population of the five Central Asian Muslim republics will likely reach eighty million and the Chinese will maintain a population in excess of one hundred million in the border provinces. Such a disproportion is bound to have political repercussions. Russia may still be able to hold on to its presence, but only in a weakened position to which it has not been accustomed in the past and to which it may find difficult to adjust in future.
Which other regions are likely to be bones of contention in the years to come? The Arctic has become an area of dispute between Russia and the West, with conflicting territorial claims by five countries: Canada, Denmark, Norway, the United States, and Russia. These claims also concern the opening of sea routes that have become accessible in the wake of global warming and more pressing now given the deterioration in relations between Russia and the West.
There have been various international agreements based on a United Nations convention, but the law of the seas is not precise, leaving open many questions concerning control of the Arctic maritime region. According to maritime law, there is a territorial water zone of twelve nautical miles that allows coastal states to set laws, regulate use, and exploit resources. In addition, there is a contiguous zone of a further twelve nautical miles that allows the introduction of laws concerning pollution, taxation, and customs. Last, there is an exclusive “economic zone” of two hundred nautical miles to control all living and nonliving resources.
The two-hundred-mile economic zone has given rise to these conflicting claims. Russia, Canada, and Denmark (Greenland) all claim the Lomonosov Ridge, which is as big as half of Europe. The control of the Northwest Passage is yet another bone of contention. These and various other such claims could be peacefully resolved; unfortunately, there is no certainty that this will be the case.
It is further believed that substantial oil and gas fields exist in the region, such that Russian eagerness to own as many Arctic oil and gas fields as possible—despite the technical difficulties and overwhelming expense involved in extracting oil and gas in the area—would be understandable in light of the fact that some fields on the Russian mainland are approaching exhaustion. Hence the call for a strong Russian military presence and demonstration of force in the Arctic voiced, for instance, by Dmitry Rogozin, a leading nationalist spokesman and deputy prime minister: “It is crucially important for our national interests in this region. If we do not do that we shall lose the battle for resources which will mean we’ll also lose a big battle for the right to have sovereignty and independence.”
Russia at one time maintained military bases in the Arctic, but following an understanding about the demilitarization of the Arctic, they were not further developed. However, in May 2014 Putin announced a reopening of the bases to protect Russia’s strategic interests in the Arctic. This in turn led to an announcement by the NATO secretary general to the effect that the members of NATO would have to address the issue in light of Russian actions. The United States has been reluctant to get involved in the Arctic disputes, but other NATO members closer to the scene (such as Norway and Canada) have expressed concern following the Russian military buildup. Some Russian commentators have even predicted a war over the ownership of Arctic oil and gas within the next ten years.
Very little is known outside Russia (and not much more inside the country) about some of the territories that were at one time part of the Soviet Union and whose future status is in dispute. Transnistria is one such region, as are Abkhazia and South Ossetia—the latter two located in the Caucasus. They ought to be mentioned here because according to historical experience, even very small territories can trigger major political conflicts. About the Gagauz, a minority in Transnistria, little is known. Even their origins are in dispute among the experts (Bulgarian or a steppe tribe). Nevertheless, they figure prominently in the conflict and discussions between the Kremlin and the Republic of Moldova.
The Republic of Moldova, with Kishinev (Chisinau) as its capital, came into being with the breakdown of the Soviet Union. Romanian is the official language. However, it is also home to a considerable number of Russians, Ukrainians, and Gagauz. Most of the Russians and Ukrainians had moved during the Soviet period to the area east of the river Dniester and now represent a little more than half of the population, and the Communist Party has remained the strongest political group. The Russian-Ukrainian-Gagauz area felt discriminated against, which led to a split; a law giving this region almost full autonomy had been introduced but was not confirmed by the Moldovan parliament. Armed clashes took place, and in two votes (1991 and 2006) a majority expressed the wish to secede and unite with Russia, whereas Moldova was moving toward the European Union. Russian economic and military influence was strong in the Transnistrian area; Russian troops were stationed in the breakaway region. The area has a national anthem, Russian textbooks are used in local schools, and the Transnistrian currency is the ruble; however, Moscow did not press for unification at an early date. This issue came up only at the time of the Crimean crisis in 2014. Moldova’s economic situation is extremely bad; that of Transnistria is even worse, with a very low per capita income.
The Republic of Abkhazia considers itself an independent state and wishes to remain independent. It is recognized by four member states of the United Nations (Russia, Venezuela, Nicaragua, and the South Pacific island of Nauru). Abkhazia has been fighting Georgia, of which it was a part, several times since the breakup of the Soviet Union. South Ossetia too was part of Georgia but declared its independence in 1990. As the result of almost permanent unrest, many Ossetians fled to Russia’s North Ossetia, whereas many Georgians moved to Georgia. The South Ossetian issue led to the war between Georgia and Russia in 2008. The region is of no strategic importance, exceedingly poor, and economically wholly dependent on Russia.
The real issues at stake regarding the recovery of the Russia Empire are not the splinter regions, but Ukraine and the Caucasus on the one hand and the extent of Russia’s influence on the Eastern European countries on the other. Russia will oppose any close military involvement of these countries with the West; whether it will be able to prevent closer political and economic relations of these countries with Western Europe will depend on the balance of power and Europe’s reliance on Russian oil and gas supplies.
Russian political and economic weaknesses have been discussed in some detail, and a spectacular change for the better seems unlikely in the near future. However, the movement toward European integration, agreeing on a common political, economic, and energy policy, has shown equal signs of weakness. Europe’s weakness could induce a Russian foreign policy aimed at extending its influence, even if the power base on which such a policy rests will be brittle. Russian imperial ambitions might be limited, but Western weakness could lead them into temptation.
There is an abundance of Eurasian political and economic projects, but will they provide stability and prosperity in this part of Asia adjacent to Russia? Of the five Central Asian republics, two are doing relatively well, whereas the present condition and future projects of the others remain dismal. Turkmenistan has substantial oil and gas fields, mainly on the eastern shore of the Aral Sea. Kazakhstan has also become a major supplier of oil, gas, and certain rare minerals. The country attracted considerable investments from the West and the East. It also became the site of an important oil pipeline to China. Under the SCO, the security of the area seems to be safeguarded. But the question remains open whether in an emergency these agreements will provide internal stability. Domestic tensions cannot be ignored.
Tajikistan’s civil war among various clans and ethnic groups (1992–98), barely noticed outside the area, left more than one hundred thousand dead and created more than a million refugees. Full control by the government has still not been established. While regular warfare seems highly unlikely between the republics, other forms of conflict may occur as a result of general misgovernment as well as specific issues such as control of the drug trade, which constitutes an important unofficial part of the gray economy of the area. Local governments are frequently closing their borders, causing considerable hardship to the population even if smuggling continues. Tensions among ethnic and religious groups go back far in the past. While governments such as those in Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan tend to pursue a nationalist secular policy, conservative Islamic trends prevail in many regions, and unrest generated against this background will continue to add to a climate of instability.
It is difficult to assess the prospects of the militant Islamic movement, because most of their activities take place underground. It seems probable that at least some of the militants of the Afghan war will invade the Central Asian republics.
The militant movement most active in Central Asia has been Hizb ut-Tahrir, a pan-Islamic political organization founded in Jordanian Jerusalem in the 1950s and intent on establishing an all-encompassing Muslim state (caliphate). At present, it is banned in almost all countries, including those of the Arab world. Its prospects in some Central Asian countries such as Kyrgyzstan should not be underrated.
On the whole, the Central Asian republics have successfully suppressed terrorist groups. Chinese Uighurs who are Muslim have been arrested and returned to China. However, there is a great deal of dissatisfaction among the population of some regions, and the influx of militants from Afghanistan could change the situation. Given the corruption at the local level, “goodwill” on the part of the authorities could be bought in certain regions; such a state of affairs might appear favorable for the production of weapons of mass destruction. However, similar conditions prevail in other global regions such as Somalia or Yemen that might be considered preferable from a logistic point of view.
So far, mention has been made of a likely recurrence of terrorism in Kazakhstan, but the situation in Uzbekistan is not dissimilar. The roof organization IMU (Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan) has failed so far in its aim to overthrow the government at home, but it may have a second chance with the return of Uzbek jihadists from the battlefields of Afghanistan, Syria, Iraq, and other countries. At present, Uzbek jihadism is based mainly in the Uzbek “diaspora” of neighboring Tajikistan, some Arab countries, and Turkey, where young Uzbeks have been studying and become radicalized. Some of them are only too eager to resume the struggle at home, and the local government may not be able to confront this challenge.
It remains to be seen whether the SCO can deal with these threats. Russia has shown little enthusiasm to include Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan in its Eurasian projects, aware that they would be a burden rather than an asset. From Moscow’s point of view, it would be preferable to install pro-Russian quasi-independent governments. However, such a scheme may encounter domestic nationalist resistance, and the risk of failed countries at Russia’s border would not disappear. Hence the likelihood that parts of Central Asia will remain danger zones.
I have not been dealing with Ukraine and Moldova, with the Baltic republics, or with Georgia and Azerbaijan, all countries that were once part of the Soviet Union or the Soviet bloc. Moscow regards them as part of their zone of influence and does not want any change in this respect. This could be achieved by maintaining a Russian physical presence directly, but it is certain that the countries (or regions) concerned will want to keep a maximum of independence. Whether they will be able to count on support for their endeavor from other powers, including Europe and the United States, no one can say. It depends on the international balance of power and above all the demand and supply of oil and gas. An uneasy arrangement may emerge, but temporary and local conflicts against this background are almost certain.