EPILOGUE: KAMO GRYADESHI, ROSSIYA?—QUO VADIS, RUSSIA?

How do Russians envisage their country’s place in the world fifteen or twenty years from now? A year or two ago there was a great deal of pessimism, but there has been a significant change in the mood of the Kremlin and the country at large, tempered of course, to some extent, by the economic crisis. According to public opinion polls, most Russians think of their country as a superpower; among experts, this view is less widely to be found. As they now see it, the West is in retreat, isolated. The rules of the game dictated by the EU and Washington for a long time are no longer the same. The expansion of NATO and the EU to the Russian periphery has been halted. These views are shared by mainline, moderate Russian commentators such as Sergey Karaganov, Aleksander Lukin, and others, to wit: Until recently, Russian dignity and interests were trampled underfoot. Of particular annoyance to the Russian political class were systematic deceits and hypocrisy and broken promises. Unable and reluctant to toe the line, Russia has now given up attempts to become part of the West.

Now the West is losing its leadership over the world economy, its military advantage is dwindling, and the main reason was the West’s refusal to put an end de facto and de jure to the Cold War. The West systematically pressed ahead with expanding its zone of influence and control militarily, economically, and politically. Russia was treated as a defeated nation, its interests and objections ignored. Yet Russians do not consider themselves losers. Of particular annoyance to Russia’s political class were systematically and hypocritically broken promises and declarations. Russians were told that the “spheres of influence” policy was outdated. But in the rest of the world it was known that this was simply not true, and it was a mockery and caused distrust. The motivation of the EU expansion was to make Russia believe that the geopolitical and sociopolitical retreat of the West was over. It was to camouflage the irreparable crisis of the European integration project. This was very painful to the political class of the Western countries since it questioned its moral and political legitimacy. The West also wanted to sabotage Russia’s Eurasian project to re-create the Asian European Economic Union. The language was not always clear, but the intention was. Russia did not like Europe. It was not part of Europe, and anyway, Europe was finished, or almost finished.

As for the “hypocritically broken promises,” Putin and the other Russian spokesmen have declared many times in later years that the West promised Russia that NATO would not move eastward, but that this promise was not kept. The documents (by President George H. W. Bush, James Baker, and Helmut Kohl) show that Gorbachev did indeed want an undertaking of this kind, but it was never attempted. Instead, Western (above all, German) economic help was promised to avert the then threatening Soviet state bankruptcy. It could be argued that Western leaders should perhaps have accepted such an undertaking in view of NATO’s weakness and its inability and unwillingness to take a strong stand in the case of a threat. But this is not what happened, and the official Russian version of later years about a “betrayal” is therefore based on a misunderstanding or, more likely, invention. Russian statements were very often contradictory, expressing fear and boasts at the same time. On one hand, the Russian leaders maintained that the West was encircling a weakened Russia, on the other, there were almost weekly assertions by Putin and others that there was no country militarily stronger than Russia and that it was able to destroy the United States. If NATO expanded eastwards it was not because America or other NATO members exerted heavy pressure on Russia’s neighbors to join but because these small countries felt threatened by a country so frequently invoking its imperial mission.

Perhaps NATO should not have admitted any further members. But it is by no means certain whether such a concession would have calmed Russian nerves or whether, on the contrary, it would have been interpreted as a sign of weakness and an invitation to Russia to expand.

It was not true that the West tried to keep out Russia all along. It invited Russia to join the G7, the Council of Europe, the World Trade Organization, and other such bodies. But for the emergency help extended in July 1998 by the World Bank and the International Monetary Fond amounting to more than $22 billion, Russia would have been bankrupt—but this fact was seldom mentioned. The impression was created that Russia wanted more. It wanted Europe to join its Eurasian ventures in a way that Russia would emerge as the leading power with the exclusion of the United States. And for such ambitions not much support could be found in the West.

This in broad outline is what leading Russian experts have been saying and writing. But the more sophisticated among them seem to feel that this is not the whole story. Sergey Karaganov, one of the leading contemporary observers of the Russian scene, still feels uneasy, and he is not alone. The decline of the West is welcome news, but there may be a price to pay. Karaganov sees dark clouds on the horizon—economic, demographic, and political. Russia is now at the zenith of its power; fifteen or twenty years from now it will be weaker. If so, Russia should be looking for allies. Perhaps the predictions about China’s future power are exaggerated? Perhaps that country too will face major problems in the years ahead? In any case, Russia might be well advised to keep all its options open, not to end up as a satellite of some future superpower. Putin seems to be dimly aware of such a need, but perhaps it is not yet advisable to say so openly.

The more cautious, less triumphant Russian commentators point out that until the second half of the 2000s, Russia’s strategic goal was integration with Europe on acceptable terms. Moscow emphasized the European nature of the Russian state and Russian civilization and proposed a concept of synergy of European capital and technologies and Russian natural and human resources. This would have made Europe competitive in the global economy. It would have formed a third superpower in the world alongside the United States and China. Russia sought equal integration, and some European countries were interested; but the EU as a whole was not, especially the new (Eastern European) members supported by the United States. Thus another historic opportunity was missed.

Much of this assessment was new and startling to Westerners—the reference to the European nature of the Russian state and civilization, which was strongly denied much of the time; the assertion that a powerful Western propaganda machine was relentlessly engaged much of the time in anti-Russian propaganda, in particular in connection with the Sochi Olympic Games. Westerners must have been surprised to learn that they wanted to continue the Cold War at any price. But above all, they will be baffled by the idea—which allegedly existed and was rejected—of the great lost opportunity of Russia looking for integration in the West.

This remains the position of the moderates, also called “the peace party.” They consider the conquest of Crimea a welcome fait accompli and believe that the pressure on Ukraine should continue. Russia should defend its interests with an iron fist, as Karaganov puts it. But the pressure should be political and economic rather than military, which is too risky and may have undesirable, even dangerous, consequences.

Valery Gerasimov, chief of staff of the Russian armed forces, gave a speech in early 2013 in which he ruminated on the changing character of contemporary war, which is carried out by small special units, political and economic measures, and cyberwarfare. Mass armies, he maintained, are obsolete. Western military thinkers have reached similar conclusions in recent years. There is a war party in Russia arguing that now is the time to hit back at the West in revanche for the collapse of the Soviet Union and to regain much of the power and influence Russia once possessed. The risks are small, NATO is disunited, the mood in America gravitates toward isolationism and even defeatism. If, as President Obama said in 2014, America has no strategy vis-à-vis Syria, it stands to reason that it will not react forcefully in the case of some limited Russian aggressive attack in Eastern Europe. Mutual assured destruction may still be in force in the case of an all-out nuclear attack against the United States. But a limited nuclear strike against a target in Eastern Europe would probably not cause American retaliation. The mood in the West is to a considerable extent mourir pour Narva? Narva is the eastern part of Estonia in which many ethnic Russians live. (Mourir pour Danzig was the phrase coined in 1938 by Marcel Déat, the French socialist leader who became a leading Nazi collaborator). The failure of the West to react would probably lead to the demise of NATO and diminish American prestige in the world even further. Seen in this light, the Russian failure to act would be a missed opportunity, tantamount to losing the initiative in an undeclared war that has been under way for some time.

The point of view of the war party has supporters well beyond the camp of the lunatic fringe and ultranationalists. They admit they want to eliminate the liberals and democrats at home and worldwide; they fervently hope for a confrontation with the West; they believe that Brussels is “the center of world fascism.” These claims are sometimes bewildering because the West has been told time and again that fascism was not really the main enemy (if it was an enemy at all) but “atlanticism” and liberalism and Western-style democracy—those were the great dangers and the great evil. Even a former moderate of sorts like Sergey Kurginyan close to the Kremlin had been explaining to the West that there was much to admire in Hitler at least up to 1939. If so, why the sudden denunciations of Hitler? Because he overstepped a certain border (also called a red line in our time), a point that had also been made many years before by Ivan Ilyin, who has become the principal moral and political guide.

Is it true that a great chance was missed in the 1990s when Russia wanted to join the West and was rejected? This version of recent history is not universally accepted. Consider the view of a leading Russian historian, Yuri Afanasiev (“A New Russian Imperialism?” Perspective [February–March 1994]). His analysis was based on what he called “the Yeltsin doctrine” as well as the official Russian military doctrine of 1993: A strong Russia was needed, assuming the role of peacemaker and defending its legitimate state interests. This was the duty of the Russian, and it had the right to act firmly and toughly. Russia was obliged to defend the interests of Russians living in the near abroad if their rights were violated. In practical political terms, it meant that Russian state interests extended to the entire territory of the former USSR and justified the attempt to impose a particular foreign policy on all countries of the former European socialist camp. It meant the return of the great power ideology (derzhavnost). Such a view should not have been a great surprise even in 1994, and various reasons could be adduced in its defense. But it was difficult to maintain that this was tantamount to the ardent wish to join Europe and become part of it.

From the vantage point of 2015, this is more or less what has happened. The liberals (who were never very strong) became much weaker and eventually lost all influence. What did change was not the Russian aim (to join Europe), but the circumstances in which Russia’s real national interests—regaining its erstwhile position of strength—could be pursued. In 1994, Russia was weak; it needed Western help to prevent bankruptcy. Twenty years later, both the United States and Europe had become weaker, whereas Russia’s position was much stronger. Owing to the oil and gas boom, Russia had again become a great power.

Was it the fault of the West? Was there ever a real chance of Russia’s integration with the West in 1989–91 if the West had only shown greater foresight, magnanimity in victory, a greater willingness to compromise? How intense, how genuine, was Russia’s desire to move toward integration with Europe and the West? Given Russia’s deep economic and political crisis at the time, what exactly was the meaning of “acceptable terms” and “equal partnership”?

A document entitled “Russia’s Military Doctrine,” published by the armed forces general staff every few years, lists the main dangers facing the country. Until a few years ago, NATO and the United States were referred to as a “strategic partner.” No longer: In the 2014 version, Putin and other Russian spokesmen referred to the United States and NATO as the main enemy and were making barely veiled threats referring to Russia’s nuclear arsenal and renouncing the 1987 treaty with the United States, one of several promising to limit the nuclear arms race. Undue importance should perhaps not be attributed to “Russia’s Military Doctrine,” the full text of which has never been published. In any case, there is reason to assume that Russia has disregarded the 1987 nuclear treaty for years. Facts on the ground are more important than official declarations of this kind. And the facts say that Russian military spending between 2007 and 2014 has doubled, whereas NATO spending has halved.

What was the decisive factor in Russian thinking, and what were the main motives? Was it the wish to protect Russian speakers living outside the Russian republic, or was it the wish to restore the borders of the Soviet Union, to re-create the old empire?

These issues will be discussed for a long time to come, when more will be known about Russia’s desire for integration with the West and Western attitudes toward it. According to the evidence available at present, Russian claims about the “missed opportunity” are untrue.

It was no doubt in the interest of Russian patriots to regain great-power status. But since the West had been regarded as Russia’s sworn enemy for such a long time, was it not inevitable that the Russian strategy of integration, even if wholly genuine, should have been regarded with a measure of suspicion or at least hesitation? At the time, Russia was in need of help to prevent a total collapse: should Western help have included restoration of the old borders of the Soviet Union? Would such help have earned Russia’s eternal gratitude?

Some Russian analysts feel a certain unease even at a time of Russia’s triumph. As Sergey Karaganov puts it:

Today Russia is at the peak of its strength. The near future promises no chance that it can get stronger. It looks like Russia has deliberately shifted the focus of competition with the West from soft power and the economic sector to hard power, political will, and intellect. In other words, to where Russia considers its strength lies.

So far the attempt has yielded positive results. But to consolidate its position at least in the midterm, Russia needs to reform its economic and domestic policies, rapidly change its elites, and formulate the goals and national idea shared by the majority of its citizens. Russia has been getting ready. A televised anti-Western campaign unprecedented since the Cold War era helped to shape public opinion. The armed forces underwent a fundamental upgrade. There were other omens of an imminent clash. The interim results are favorable.

Russia has seized and retained the initiative. Russia’s arsenal contains a wide range of economic and political tools until it has achieved its goal, which is a very risky strategy that will complicate relations with the West for a long time. The strategy will weaken Russia’s position in relations with China (its maneuvering room will narrow), although moral authority in the eyes of the non-Western world will grow. This will be the case if Moscow will not lose, of course.

These are interesting ruminations, more prescient than most emanating at this time from Moscow. It is relatively easy to launch a massive propaganda campaign, but how to produce a new elite in a short period? Has Russia given up competition with the West in the economic field—and does it hope to gain its advantages by means of “hard power” and “political will”? Does it mean war? If so, what kind of war?

It should be taken for granted that even though Moscow has moved toward an aggressive nationalist, even chauvinist, policy, no one outside the lunatic fringe actually wants a major nuclear war. There are apparently some in Moscow who believe there will be no competition between Russia and China, because all China wants is to regain Taiwan. Great are the powers of self-deception. There was a time when Mao considered it desirable for Russia to go to war with the United States so that the two superpowers could annihilate or at least incapacitate each other.

Assuming that Russia is now at the peak of its strength, a statement less often heard following the economic crisis of 2014–15 should it not make the most of it? What if such a unique opportunity does not recur? But this would be dangerous, because if Russia again overstretches itself, would not the result be the same as in the past? Would it be able to hold on to what it gained at a time of a favorable constellation? Any territorial advance Russia made now or in the near future would mean a gain in domestic support for the present government. But how long would this gain last?

Russians want their country to be a great power, a superpower if possible. But they also want to live well. Two understandable aims—but can they be combined? Economic experts such as Vladislav Inozemtsev have argued in strong terms that Russia is not a superpower and cannot be one as long as it depends on the outside world, as long as it imports much of what it needs and its exports are limited mainly to raw materials. Even more critical is Russia’s financial dependence on the West.

Russia faces great domestic difficulties and problems, but problems can be solved and difficulties overcome. Again, historical examples have been given, such as France’s recovery after 1870–71 and the German recovery after World War I. In the late Middle Ages and early modern period, the Swedes and the Swiss were known as the best and fiercest soldiers, but this is no longer so. Britain was known as the pioneering industrial country par excellence whereas China was known as the country in which nothing ever changes. Times have changed.

The United States and Europe are passing through a period of great psychological weakness. The European project, the movement toward unity, has been running out of steam. It could be the beginning of the end, but it could also lead to a recovery.

Among the Russian weaknesses is the fatal belief in all kinds of conspiracy theories and strange ideas, such as neo-Eurasianism, neogeopolitics, confabulation, and zapadophobia, accompanied by an enduring persecution mania and the exaggerated belief in a historical mission. Such afflictions are by no means exclusively Russian, but in no Western countries have these and similar ideas gained the legitimacy bestowed upon them by Alexander Dugin and sections of the intelligentsia or been used to influence political policy as determined by Russia’s leaders. Nationalist feelings have been running high in many countries at various times, but it is difficult to think of an accumulation of hatred similar to what has taken place in Russia in recent years. It could be argued that such afflictions may not last forever, they may weaken or even disappear. But at the present time, in the age of weapons of mass destruction, they are a major danger.

Quite recently with the end of the Cold War, the belief prevailed in the West that democracy was the normal state of affairs and all other forms of governance a regrettable deviation from the norm that would not last a long time. This assumption proved to be overoptimistic. The authoritarian mentality of many Russian rulers and ruled alike will change only as the result of a cultural revolution, which has not taken place so far.

This is a matter of some grief to Russian democrats, but the reality must be faced. Events during the last two decades have shown that chaos is much more feared in Russia than authoritarian rule and dictatorship. As long as half of the people believe in the greatness and goodness of Stalin, nothing else can be expected. This may change one day, but in the meantime one can only hope there will be no deterioration in the situation toward an even more severe form of rule. The Russian extreme Right and the lunatic fringe have grown in influence over the years, but full-fledged fascism seems unlikely. To a certain extent, the Stalin experience is still acting as a deterrent for many, and even those who find excuses for it do not want a repeat performance.

But a retreat from authoritarian rule toward a more democratic system seems equally unlikely. The Soviet Union under communism could count on the support of Communists all over the world. A right-wing nationalist Russia may find (or buy) a few sympathizers abroad, but not much more. The Soviet doctrine was based on the assumption that world revolution would eventually prevail everywhere. There can be no such perspective today, which poses natural limits to Russian expansion. But on the other hand, it is difficult to envisage an abdication of the present rulers, unless they are assured (as Yeltsin was) that they will not be prosecuted after their resignation—for instance, with regard to the fortunes amassed while in power.

How to achieve this? Hardly as a result of free and unfettered elections. If it were only for this reason, the transition to a more democratic regime would be difficult indeed. However, there are additional problems, such as the traditional Russian fear of freedom among wide sections of the population. Once persecution mania has become deeply engrained, it may easily turn in the wrong direction—internally, against one’s own people and government. If enemies are hiding everywhere, they might be among one’s neighbors; no one can be trusted anymore. A rising tide of Russian nationalism replacing the old internationalist doctrine is a double-edged sword. Once the chauvinist genie is out of the bottle, not only may it be directed against the West, it could find domestic targets such as national minorities and the millions of guest workers at present in Russia. As the ambassador of one of the Central Asian republics asked his Russian friends in Moscow: “What are you doing to our people working for you? They return home militant Islamists.”

Western freedom of action to promote friendlier relations is limited. Even if Western attitudes toward Russia were guided by unparalleled friendship and respect, responding positively to all Russian demands, there is no certainty that this would have the desired effect. Self-criticism has not been in fashion in Russia for a long time; if something goes wrong in Russia, it is virtually always the fault of foreigners. According to past experience, the feeling of Russia as a besieged fortress is running deep and dates far back. For if Russia were not such a fortress, how to justify authoritarian rule, the many restrictions imposed on the population, the sacrifices demanded, and the shortcomings of the regime? For this reason, the prospects for a lasting reconciliation and better relations with the West seem not to be brilliant at the present time.

There is bound to be change. But when and how and in what direction no one can say with any certainty. Will it be for the better or the worse? Gogol’s troika mentioned earlier, with its bells ringing, makes many appearances in Russian culture; it used to be an essential part of the winter scene. It appears in popular songs as well as in highbrow literature. In a popular song, the yamshik (coachman) gets a kiss from a pretty girl, but there are also disaster stories caused by the drunken yamshik. In old Russia, the coachman had to undergo special training almost as thorough as a London taxi driver. But not all of them did. And who is the passenger in Gogol’s great novel? Chichikov, not one of the most positive heroes in Russian literature, but a con man, the embodiment of poshlost. So Gogol’s troika is galloping on as before, the coach driver is not sparing the horses, and one only hopes he has a general idea where he is going and the way to reach his destination without too much risk to his passengers and the rest of mankind.