The Russia Conundrum

CHAPTER 17

STOP THINKING YOU CAN BE SAFE WITH THE BEAR

While in power, Donald Trump used the language of populism to pledge to ‘make America great again’. Vladimir Putin continues to use the same rhetoric today. Both of them have stirred up resentment among their own population, insisting that their nation has somehow been demeaned and diminished, while promising a return to what they see as its rightful national glory.

The world would benefit if ideas of ‘greatness’ were consigned to the past. Russia in particular would gain from an acceptance that the Soviet superpower is no more and that Russia needs to find a new place in the world, a role that corresponds to the real interests of her citizens who, like citizens across the globe, yearn for freedom, security and economic prosperity. Britain in the 1950s and 1960s went through the painful process of relinquishing its great power status and its old imperial dreams, finding itself a new role in global politics. If the Kremlin were to make the same leap, it would strengthen global peace and stability and would permit a new focus on the civilian economy to the immense benefit of the Russian people. Sadly, such a transformation is unlikely to happen under the current Kremlin administration.

Putin’s imperial thinking is in part explained by Russia’s history. For the last five centuries, Russia has been an empire, an agglomeration of territory invaded and swallowed up by successive tsars, then by the Bolsheviks. Empire has become Russia’s default mode; Russian people have grown used to it and come to regard it as a safeguard for national security. In the twentieth century, it encompassed the satellite states in Eastern Europe, which were seen as protection against invasion from the West.

But the world has moved on; empires are a thing of the past. Russia finds herself in thrall to an outdated system and now she must choose between the discredited past and the way of the future. To me, it seems evident that Russia must plump for the latter, for a unified nation of people of different ethnic origins, whose commonalities are more important than their differences. Such a state can exist only as a result of freedom, self-determination and the rule of law, not through compulsion and the force of arms.

Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, there was a lot of ill-considered enthusiasm in the West about the rapid and trouble- free transformation of Russia into a ‘junior partner’. The West gave Russia lots of advice, but much less in terms of investment or technology. After the crisis of 1998 and the progressive disintegration of the Yeltsin regime, Western enthusiasm for helping Russia move into the twenty-first century quickly faded and was largely replaced by scepticism. Russia was seen as the new ‘sick man of Europe’, no longer worthy of interest or attention. It was an attitude that bore real-world consequences. In the early 2000s, Western governmental and quasi-governmental programmes such as the UK’s Know How Fund were shut down or refocused on Africa and the Far East. Some Western academics who had previously studied the USSR retrained as sinologists. Only those who really understood Russian history warned against writing Russia off: the Russian bear may spend long periods asleep in its den, but the longer it sleeps, the more serious the consequences.

Even those who recognised that Russia was not about to fall apart lost interest in the idea of Russian democracy. There were two streams of Western rhetoric about Russia: the ritualised speeches about the importance of Russia’s transition from authoritarianism and totalitarianism to democracy; and the informal consensus that formed at the end of the 1990s that however much you feed the Russian bear, it will always scurry back to the authoritarian forest. Even worse, there was a growing feeling behind the scenes that, actually, a bit of ‘moderate’ authoritarianism in Russia is both good for the Russian people and for the West; that a ‘moderately’ evil ruler is the best way – perhaps the only way – to keep a very evil and unruly nation under some sort of control. Such a ruler, the reasoning went, would keep Russia from rivalling the West in the struggle for the economic future; and since Russians are not suited to living in a democracy anyway, it would be useful for them to have a moderately authoritarian regime that would not frighten the West with Russia’s social abominations or provoke mass waves of emigration. Such thoughts, together with simple self-interest, played a part in the rise of Trumpism in America and Schröderism in Europe over the past two decades. If Russia isn’t going to fall apart, they suggest, then such an outcome – a sort of enlightened monarchical repression – is not a bad outcome.

Such attitudes are a mistake. Russia can be one of two things: despotic, aggressive and dangerous; or a democratic, strategic ally. The West can never be safe with an authoritarian Russian bear. Such a bear will forever be in search of prey, inventing external enemies on whom to blame internal failures and to rally the Russian people around its leadership. Russian authoritarianism will always be belligerent and aggressive. Its modus operandi will always be messianism, militarism and adventurism. It has no possibility of internal stability; it can be stable only when it is thrusting aggressively outwards. Such is the fate of all empires that refuse to transform themselves into a nation-state.

The paradox is that a weak Russia will seek to assert its strength, to take what it wants by force, to breach the rules of civilised behaviour; while a strong, confident Russia possesses the self-belief to focus on its own problems at home and play by the rules abroad. The security of the West can be assured only if Russia is strong and democratically governed. The West, ironically, needs to encourage a worthy competitor in Russia if it wants to be certain of its own safety. It may seem counterintuitive, but it will be worth it: Europe’s choice is between Russia as a difficult but civilised competitor and Russia as an aggressor, threatening the foundations of European civilisation. Despotism in Russia will always be a threat, no matter how much Europe tries to convince itself otherwise. That is why it is in Europe’s interest to help Russia become a modern, civilised country with a stable economy and predictable policies.

Russia cannot become a modern country while it maintains its current archaic system of governance. It is a burden that weighs it down, condemning the nation to stagnation in industrial or even pre-industrial conditions, while fostering dissatisfaction among society’s most productive forces with their country’s lack of development. The exodus abroad of the most active and educated members of Russian society exacerbates the problem, as the economy suffers from their loss. Like all authoritarian regimes, Putin’s answer is even more foreign aggression, to keep Europe always on the defensive, and – following the invasion of Ukraine – on the brink of war.

If the West wants to protect itself from the threat from the East, it would be a mistake to try to weaken or break up Russia. The consequences of that would be an internal power struggle in Russia with a predictable outcome – power would be seized by the toughest, most unprincipled autocrat who, in order to maintain his position, would inevitably provoke a confrontation with the West. If this is to be avoided, we need democratic states in the East and West to work together. Competing and collaborating with a strong Russia is a much better solution for everyone. As a geographic neighbour and sister civilisation, a future Russia can either be part of the problem or she can become part of the solution to much bigger problems. The creation of a Russian civic state is the greatest goal towards which the people of Russia have laboured historically, but it is yet to be achieved. With greater informational freedom, the internet, social media, international travel and an increasingly integrated world community, that task is now possible.