5 「神祕」的敵人：俄羅斯（1990-2007）

 5 The “enigmatic” enemy: Russia (1990–2007)

🤣😄😭😀😃

以下是針對你提供的章節 〈The “Enigmatic” Enemy: Russia (1990–2007)〉 條列的整理——包含「核心概念」、「重點筆記」與「可延伸問題」，方便你後續引用或分析：

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🧭 一、核心概念（Key Concepts）

1. 身份危機（Identity Crisis）

   • 從蘇聯瓦解以後，俄羅斯在「自我定位」與「對外戰略」上陷入長期混亂。

   • 無法決定自己究竟是「歐洲的一部分」、「亞洲大國」還是「獨立文明」。

2. 地位追求（Status-Seeking）

   • 俄羅斯外交的核心動力是「恢復大國地位」，而非單純安全考量。

   • 這種「地位焦慮」源自失去帝國榮光後的集體心理補償。

3. 被污名化的外部位置（Stigmatization）

   • 在西方主導的國際社會中，俄羅斯長期被視為「非歐洲」、「不完全文明」。

   • 從帝俄、蘇聯到普丁時期皆存在這種被「他者化」的經驗。

4. 「西化」與「俄化」的張力（Westernization vs. Russification）

   • 彼得大帝以降的改革傳統，使俄羅斯一面學習歐洲、一面防範被同化。

   • 這種矛盾塑造了俄羅斯特有的文明自覺：「既屬於歐洲，又超越歐洲」。

5. 文明競逐（Civilizational Contest）

   • 從「真歐洲」（俄國眼中的精神歐洲）對抗「偽歐洲」（自由主義、啟蒙價值）。

   • 普丁延續此傳統，以「傳統價值」自居，對抗「墮落的西方」。

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📘 二、重點筆記（Analytical Notes）

（1）1990–2007的外交搖擺

• 葉爾欽：親西方、尋求融入歐洲，但國內視為屈辱。

• 普丁初期：務實親西方（911後與美合作），但很快轉向對抗。

• 西方觀察者困惑：「普丁是想加入西方，還是利用西方？」（FT, 2002）

（2）地位焦慮與陰謀敘事

• 西方媒體（Guardian, 1997）指出：俄羅斯普遍相信「有一場陰謀阻止其恢復大國地位」。

• 此陰謀論成為民族主義敘事的核心——解釋所有外交挫敗與內部問題。

（3）「被誤讀的俄羅斯」

• 西方對俄羅斯的看法從「民主轉型夥伴」→「失敗國家」→「敵人」。

• 華爾街日報 2006：「該把普丁的俄羅斯視為美國的敵人」。

（4）歷史根源：彼得大帝的雙重遺產

• 改革歐化同時也是一種「防禦機制」，保留俄羅斯主體性。

• 歷代西化都伴隨「模仿—排拒」的循環（模仿歐洲技術，排拒其價值）。

（5）帝國自信與現代失衡

• 俄羅斯在拿破崙戰爭後短暫躋身歐洲中心，但隨著啟蒙與民族主義浪潮，又被排除在外。

• 克里米亞戰爭象徵「帝國夢的破裂」，讓內部改革派（西化派）與保守派（斯拉夫派）對立。

（6）俄羅斯的特殊文明論

• 斯拉夫派主張俄羅斯有自身的「道德文明」使命。

• 西化派主張全面模仿歐洲，以克服落後。

• 兩派爭論構成俄羅斯政治文化的長期張力，延續至蘇聯與普丁時代。

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❓三、延伸問題（Discussion / Research Questions）

1. 身份問題與外交行為

   • 俄羅斯的「地位焦慮」如何影響其外交政策（例如入侵、反西方、尋求戰略自主）？

2. 文明敘事作為戰略工具

   • 普丁政府是否藉由「俄羅斯文明論」重塑合法性，掩飾國內威權化？

3. 與日本、土耳其比較

   • 為何俄羅斯在現代化與西化過程中，最終選擇「對抗西方」，而非像日本那樣「融入西方」？

4. 被誤解的西方化

   • 西方是否誤判了俄羅斯的「親西方」姿態？

   • 普丁時期的「合作」是否從一開始就帶有戰術性（利用西方技術與承認）？

5. 內外困境的鏡像效應

   • 俄羅斯的「內部威權化」與「外部反西方」之間有何相互強化關係？

6. 帝國記憶的再生產

   • 蘇聯解體後，俄羅斯如何重新包裝帝國過去（如蘇聯勝利敘事）以維持民族榮耀？

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📚 總結一句話

俄羅斯的對外政策並非單純的安全策略，而是長期的「文明身份尋回戰」——從彼得大帝到普丁，俄羅斯始終在歐洲的鏡中尋找自己，也在被拒絕中形成了新的「反西方文明意識」。

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是否要我下一步幫你把這些重點轉寫成一份可直接引用於評論或報告的「摘要＋分析稿」（約800字）？

😂😅🥰🥴

Russia’s identity crisis has made it difficult to formulate and pursue a clear and consistent policy toward the outside world.

Andrei Tsygankov, “From International Institutionalism to

Revolutionary Expansionism”

So much of Russian thinking about foreign affairs seems to converge around the idea that there is a conspiracy to prevent Russia resuming its great power status and to halt the “natural” restoration of the Russian imperial complex in some form.

Guardian, March 22, 1997

Boris N. Yeltsin, speaking on Independence Day, told Russians their country remains a great international power, one that is respected instead of feared.

News Service reports, June 13, 1997

Who lost Russia … our new rival? Neither ally nor partner …

Washington Times, February 18, 1998

There is enough uncertainty … about the wisdom of President Vladimir Putin’s new pro-western foreign policy. Is he trying to join the west, or is he trying to use it?

Financial Times, April 15, 2002

For the first time, the Russian president directly questioned the legiti- macy of the approaches, principles, evaluation criteria and even the very ideology of the West in relations with the rest of the world.

BBC Monitoring Former Soviet Union, December 12, 2004

It’s time we start thinking of Vladimir Putin’s Russia as an enemy of the United States.

The Wall Street Journal, November 28, 2006

201

 

Introduction

Is Russia, the former Soviet Union, an ally of the United States and Europe, an enemy of the West, or neither? The jury is still out, and Russian leaders have been giving out confusing signals since the offi- cial end of the Cold War.1 From Yeltsin’s drunken ramblings to the supposed exposure of Putin’s soul,2 Western observers have not been able to figure out a way to read Russia’s intentions. Every couple of years, some policy expert definitively proclaims that Russia is a friend. The next year some incident suggests the exact opposite. If Russia was a riddle wrapped in an enigma during Soviet years, it has since then become a matryoshka doll of foreign policy gestures.

The goal of this chapter is to analyze the foreign policy choices Russia has made since the downfall of the Soviet Union, and sug- gest that Russia’s actions make sense only in a framework of status- seeking in a socially stratified international society of established and outsiders. The status standards that Russia faces now are quite dif- ferent than those Russia, Japan, or Turkey faced in the last centuries. Therefore, Russia’s behavior in the last decades gives us important clues about the future of international society and the future impact of status-seeking behavior within this society.

As with the previous two chapters, Chapter 5 is divided into three sections. The first section gives an overview of Russia’s relation- ship with international society and its status standards prior to the collapse of the Soviet Union. Both imperial Russia’s and the Soviet Union’s relationship with international society will be briefly con- sidered as a precursor to the post-Cold War period. The second sec- tion offers a narrative of the choices Russia made within the foreign policy sphere after the demise of its empire, as well as the domestic debates about which direction Russia should take to regain its sta- tus and overcome its stigmatized position. Of the three cases under investigation, Russia has come closest to dominating international society as a great power, so it is not surprising that Russian domes- tic debates are the most explicit about status-seeking motivations.

1 Owen, “Transnational Liberalism,” 119, 132–5.

2 President George W. Bush’s remark that he looked into Putin’s soul. See e.g. Slevin and Baker, “Bush Changing Views,” 26.

 

The third section will analyze this narrative within the framework discussed in Chapter 2 in regard to responses to stigmatization.

Russia and the West: Émile or Caliban?

Thus, Utkin argues, the standard interpretations of Peter’s role in Russian history – that he either made Russia part of Europe, or that he destroyed traditional Russia but did not succeed in Europeanizing it – are both mis- placed … Rather, the reforms served as a shield which allowed Russia to maintain its independence and originality while it was at the same time included in the sphere of European culture. (Iver Neumann, Russia and the Idea of Europe, p.191)

Russia’s “Westernization” project was the first of its kind3 in the history of the modern states system, and, as we saw in previous chapters, was replicated to some degree by all other premodern empires struggling to withstand European expansion. In fact, Neumann notes that “Trotsky reminds that Russia was one of the first countries to experience the pangs of globalization emanating from the European core … [The] discovery of Russia by the evolv- ing European state system was part of that era we think of as the ‘age of European discovery.’”4 The initiator of the modernization project conceived in response was Peter the Great,5 who introduced Western technologies, practices, beliefs, and personnel,6 changed the language of the state,7 changed the title of the ruler from tsar to imperator, and moved the capital from Moscow to St. Petersburg.8 Peter’s reforms had the consequence of successfully making Russia a

3 See Watson, “Russia and the European States System,” pp. 61–6, for an overview of Russia’s political development trajectory until this juncture.

4 Neumann, “Review,” 350.

5 Reign: 1682–1725. Although, just as in the Ottoman case with Mahmud II, the inception of borrowing from the West pre-dates Peter’s efforts, at least as far back as his grandfather Alexis.

6 And just as in the Ottoman and Japanese cases, Russian attitudes toward the culture which accompanies these innovations were dismissive at first: “They saw that to do this they must learn the military and also the administrative and manufacturing skills of the West, which the Russians disparagingly described as ‘khitry,’ meaning clever and tricky.” Watson, “Russia and the European States System,” p. 63.

7 French became the medium of communication for the upper classes.

8 Neumann, Russia and the Idea of Europe, p. 11.

 

player of some importance in the European states system. The main rival of Russia at this time was the Ottoman Empire, and it was Peter’s desire to forge an anti-Ottoman alliance that led him on his European travels during the first decade of his reign.9 However, the reforms inspired by these travels first bore fruit in the Russian vic- tory over the Swedes in 1709, leading to Russia’s emergence as the predominant Baltic power.10 His campaigns against the Ottomans were mostly failures.11

It would be a mistake to assume that Russia gained entry12 into the great power club of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries sim- ply by adopting a few reforms or through military victory alone. What made Russia successful where the Ottoman Empire and Japan failed subsequently was the Russian state’s success in challenging the meaning of “Europe.” As Neumann demonstrates convincingly, throughout the eighteenth century, “[t]he Russian state formulated, disseminated and insisted upon a geographical definition of Europe as stretching to all the most populous parts of Russia. The idea that Europe ends and Asia begins at the Urals was first presented by a Russian geographer.”13 The Ottoman Empire also attempted something similar in the nineteenth century, with some success –

i.e. the Ottoman Empire was also named a European power in 1856; however, the Russian project was more successful because the Russians already had the other characteristic necessary for inclusion: Christianity. Especially in the eighteenth century, mem- bership of the Westphalian states system hinged on religion and geography.

However, around the time Russia made its case for inclusion as a European power, Western Europe went through some fundamental changes, starting with the French Revolution. In a way, Russia became an “outsider” inside the new European society of states almost as

9 Watson, “Russia and the European States System,” p. 63.

10 Neumann, Russia and the Idea of Europe, p. 11.

11 Interestingly, Peter the Great is known in Turkish history as Peter the Madman.

12 In fact, prior to the Westernization efforts of Golitsyin, the chief minister of Regent Sofia (Peter’s predecessor), the Russian state was not recognized as part of the system at all – as far as the Europeans were concerned, it was ranked lower than even the Ottoman Empire. Watson, “Russia and the European States System,” p. 66.

13 Ibid., p. 12.

 

soon as it managed to gain entry to the club.14 Russia achieved what no other Eastern agrarian empire had managed to achieve by becom- ing a major participant in the Concert of Europe, but the concert itself was very much a product of eighteenth-century politics – revolving around the idea of dynastic legitimacy and reciprocity. As soon as Russia gained entry to the great-powers club, the ground underneath began to shift as the effects of the French Revolution became more and more discernible in Western Europe.

In hindsight, there was plenty of irony in the developments of the early nineteenth century. Having played a leading role in the defeat of Napoleon, Russians felt somewhat secure15 about their standing and stature for the first time since their engagement with Europe: “The journalist Nikolai Polevoi wrote, ‘How can a European boast of his puny little fist? Only the Russian has a real fist, a fist comme il faut, the ideal of a fist. Indeed, there is nothing reprehensible in that fist, nothing base, nothing barbaric. On the contrary, it possesses a great deal of significance, power, and poetry.’”16 Yet, the same develop- ments which had produced Napoleon were continuing to work in this period of perceived Russian success and undermining Russia’s pos- ition in Europe as a result. In fact, we may hypothesize that Russia’s unexpected success against Napoleon had the effect of shielding the Russian monarchy from criticism from below and delayed the con- sideration of reforms taking place in Western Europe. Therefore Russia was in some ways a victim of its own brief success. There is

14 Even before the developments of the nineteenth century, many in Europe were skeptical about the success of Russian transformation. The following passage from Rousseau’s Social Contract (1762) is illustrative of the European mindset vis-à-vis the Russians in the eighteenth century:

“The Russians will never be truly civilized, since they have been civilized too early. Peter had a genius for imitation. He did not have true genius, the

kind that creates and makes everything out of nothing. Some of the things he did were good; most of them were out of place. He saw that his people was barbarous; he did not see that it was not ready for civilization. He wanted

to civilize it when all it needed was toughening. First he wanted to make Germans and Englishmen, when he should have made Russians. He prevented his subjects from ever becoming what they could have been by persuading them that they were something they are not.” See Book 2, Chapter 8

15 Almost too secure – the boasts of Russians in this period smack of the kind of bravado discussed in the Introduction and Chapter 2.

16 Polunov, Russia in the Nineteenth Century, p. 69.

 

a similarity between these developments and those that befell Japan leading up to and after World War I. Just as post-World War I Japan, which had briefly caught up with the West in material terms, was an anachronism, displaying the values of an already disappearing imperialist age, post-Napoleonic Wars Russia, unbeknownst to itself, was also quickly becoming a relic from an age of dynastic privileges. Some in Russia saw the developments in Western Europe as a betrayal of true European ideals as embodied in the ancien régime. Nicholas especially was trapped by his failure to understand the significance of these changes. While Nicholas envisioned Russia as the “gendarme of Europe” and himself a noble defender of the sta- tus quo, public and elite opinion in Western Europe perceived the actions of Russia, even those against the Ottoman Empire, as bar- baric.17 The Russian state, on the other hand, represented itself as the “true Europe.”18 In the meantime, Europeans continued to look upon Russia as a learner.19 In that sense, even though imperial Russia, compared to the Ottoman Empire or Japan, was more successful in gaining formal entry to the European society of states, Russia’s iden- tity as a European power was never entirely complete: “Doubts about the ability of Russians to internalize [European] values were … fre- quently voiced … Parallels, political or otherwise, were frequently drawn between Russia and the Ottoman Empire.”20 However, Russia stands out among the other cases as the only one whose perceived power was exaggerated rather than downplayed.21 This was as true of

imperial Russia as it was of the Soviet Union.

Nicholas’s failure to read the new international system ultimately led to the Russian failure in the Crimean War, because he “did not understand that his personal friendship with conservative English aristocrats such as the Duke of Wellington and Lord Aberdeen, the British prime minister, would not guarantee England’s friendly behavior as a state.”22 Historians have observed that “Nicholas lived

17 Ibid., p. 71. For instance, “Lord Clarendon, the British foreign secretary, called the [Crimean] war a struggle for ‘the independence of Europe,’ for ‘civilization’ against ‘barbarism.’” Britain and France ended up declaring war on Russia on the side of the Ottoman Empire.

18 Neumann, Russia and the Idea of Europe, p. 194.

19 Neumann, Russia as Europe’s Other, p. 27.

20 Ibid., p. 60. 21 Bunce, “Domestic Reform,” 138.

22 Polunov, Russia in the Nineteenth Century, p. 71.

 

in a world of ‘dynastic mythology’23 and placed excessive reliance on personal contacts and ties of blood and friendship within the European elite.”24 The debacle of the Crimean War, however, gave Westernizers the edge they were hoping for. The Westernizers were also a by-product of the Napoleonic Wars: the officers who took part in the occupation of Paris “were impressed by the contrast between its freedoms and prosperity and the ‘bestiality and arbitrariness’ that greeted them at home.”25 Despite the external recognition of Russia as a European power, it was becoming apparent domestically that its developmental problems had not been overcome. Many believed Russia to be backward and called for more freedom. The early half of the nineteenth century had been a time of great turmoil domes- tically for other European powers, as evidenced in the revolutions of 1848. Russia had been spared these revolutions, but temporary escape from this fate only fueled the discontent of disenfranchised parties.26 Coming off the high of the Napoleonic Wars, Nicholas had been able to suppress the Westernizers, but after the Crimean War, reforms could no longer be put off – and they were implemented by Nicholas’s successor Alexander.

This was partly because the Slavophiles, who had high hopes about the outcome of the war, also turned to criticize the Russian state after defeat: “‘Sevastopol did not fall by accident,’ [Slavophile] Ivan Aksakov wrote to his relatives. ‘Its fall was an act of God to expose the true rottenness of the governmental system and all the conse- quences of repression.’”27 Of course, as Robert English notes, the Slavophiles were no less Europeanized than their Westernizer coun- terparts: “Fundamental elements of Slavophilism were indeed bor- rowed from European, primarily German, thinkers, from the idea of ‘organic’ nation to reverence for the traditional peasant commune.”28 Moreover, both groups looked to the past selectively to construct their vision of the future.29 In other words, just as in the Turkish and Japanese cases, the Russian elite had very much internalized

23 See the discussion in Chapter 1.

24 Polunov, Russia in the Nineteenth Century, p. 71.

25 English, Russia and the Idea of the West, p. 20.

26 See e.g. Kropotkin, Memoirs of a Revolutionist.

27 Polunov, Russia in the Nineteenth Century, p. 86.

28 English, Russia and the Idea of the West, p. 20.

29 Billington, Russia in Search of Itself, p. 14.

 

the worldview emanating from Western Europe: and just as in those cases, Russian disagreements in the nineteenth century were not about the validity of that worldview but about what the right response to Russia’s inferior position would be. While the Westernizers held that everything had to be borrowed from the West, the Slavophiles argued Russia had to preserve its unique civilization which was the source of its strength.30 We have seen the articulation of identical positions in both the Turkish and Japanese cases.

The Westernizing reforms of the previous centuries had not gone far enough to please various sections of the intelligentsia who demanded more. Alexander II tried to address the calls for reform by issuing “The Great Emancipation Statute” in 1861, around the same time the Ottoman Sultan was issuing his Tanzimat decrees, and Japan was coming under the Meiji rule. The Statute freed the serfs but compen- sated the landowners for their loss. Just as in the Ottoman Empire and Japan, the reforms created their own backlash. Neither the peas- ants nor the landowners were satisfied with the decree.31 Alexander II, like Mahmud II in Istanbul, also attempted to reform the army, and pushed through several civil and educational reforms. All in all, Alexander’s reforms were the most comprehensive since Peter the Great. Nevertheless, they can, at best, be described as stopgap mea- sures intended to ensure the continuity of the system.

In fact, the debates in the nineteenth century for Russia revolved very much around the same identity issues faced by Turkey and Japan (whose debates had commenced at slightly later dates). James Billington makes the same error as the experts in Turkish and Japanese history when he argues that “no nation ever poured more intellectual energy into answering the question of national identity than Russia,”32 although he is right to draw our attention to the fact that in Russia the two sides, for a while at least, seemed more equally matched.

What originally ignited the debate were two monographs by Peter Chaadaev: Philosophical Letter (1836) and Apology of a Madman (1837). Describing Moscow as a “Necropolis,” Chaadaev (1837)

30 English, Russia and the Idea of the West, p. 21; see also Billington, Russia in Search of Itself, for specific examples of thought from both sides.

31 Mikhailov and Shelgunov, Proclamation to the Younger Generation; Broido, Apostles into Terrorists; Zaionchkovsky and Wobst, Abolition of Serfdom in Russia.

32 Billington, Russia in Search of Itself, p. 12.

 

nevertheless went on to argue that “Russia’s very lateness in devel- opment would enable her to do better than Western nations.”33 Just as their Japanese and Ottoman counterparts would argue only a few decades later, the Slavophiles of Russia tried to find virtue in Russia’s “unique” civilization, “combining the virtues of the Orthodox faith, Slavic ethnicity, and the communal institutions and decision-making procedures of an overwhelmingly peasant population.”34 And Russia, just like Turkey and Japan would be later, was conceived of as a civ- ilization which would not only help itself but one that was uniquely qualified to resolve the tensions created by modernity.

What distinguishes the Russian debate from the Ottoman and Japanese ones is the fact that the Slavophiles were advancing these claims right around the time the Westernizers seemed to be vindi- cated by the reforms of Alexander II. In the Ottoman and Japanese cases, we saw such views articulated strongly only after the attempts to modernize following Western prescriptions – i.e. the Tanzimat and Meiji periods – failed to erase stigmatization. In the Russian case, the Slavophile position pre-dates the reforms – and was merely subdued during their enactment. This difference most likely stems from the longer engagement Russia had with modernization and Westernization pressures. In any case, the Russian trajectory did converge with the other cases after Alexander’s reforms – not only did they fail to defeat the previous Slavophile objections, but created their own backlash.35 In Russia, too, then, liberalizing reforms and increased political openness created expectations that could not be met. Just as new recognitions given to religious minorities in the Ottoman Empire actually increased the activities of secessionist national liberation movements, the civil reforms in Russia served as a catalyst for oppos- ition groups who now demanded a written constitution and a parlia- ment. In response, in both countries, the reform period was followed

33 Ibid. 34 Ibid., pp. 12–13.

35 And the purely materialist reading of these nineteenth-century reforms is as misplaced in the Russian example as it is in the previous cases. The Bolsheviks were as guilty of this as anyone else. For instance, Trotsky’s explanation of the 1861 Emancipation Act as a moment of primitive accumulation misses the identity dynamics involved in the situation (see

History of the Russian Revolution). By that time, these types of reforms had come to be assessed by the Russian intelligentsia according to a rubric of comparison with what was known/imagined about the “West.”

 

by a period of backlash and repression. In the Ottoman Empire, the reign of Abdülhamid, which followed immediately after the Tanzimat opening and recognition of the equal rights of all subjects, was a period of extreme repression of Christians (e.g. the Armenian mas- sacres of 1887–8). Similarly, in Russia, Alexander’s reforms were severely curtailed by his son, Alexander III, and Alexander III’s son, Nicholas II, at least until 1905, when Nicholas II reluctantly conceded a parliamentary assembly.36 However, he was forced to relent because of the growing unification and the increased violence of the oppos- ition following the events of Bloody Sunday, January 9, 1905.37 None of this did much to help Russia’s image abroad: Robert Service points out that no imperial power before World War I was reviled by demo- crats in Europe as much as the Russian Empire.38

In the events leading up to World War I, there were certain simi- larities between the Russian and the Ottoman cases. As a result of Bloody Sunday, Russia was ruled as a parliamentary monarchy between 1905 and 1917; the Ottomans switched to a similar system in 1908. Both countries entered World War I (on different sides) with the hope of rejuvenating their global positions and stopping the dis- solution of their empires. Russia emerged from World War I under Bolshevik control, whereas Kemalist Turkey replaced the Ottoman Empire. However, as discussed in Chapter 3, in terms of foreign pol- icy, the Kemalist government of Ankara followed a very different path than the Bolsheviks in Moscow. This is where the main difference lies, but it should not obscure the fact that both regimes were dealing with the problem of (the stigmatization of) backwardness.

Unlike the Kemalists, the Bolsheviks came to power as a result of a popular, social revolution.39 Lenin and his comrades were ideo- logically driven intellectuals, whereas Kemal and his followers were, above all, pragmatist soldiers. In academic parlance, Russia’s was

36  Service, History of Modern Russia, p. 1.

37 On that day, marchers, including women and children, were gunned down as they walked to the palace to hand a petition to the tsar [January 22, 1905, in the new style].

38 Service, History of Modern Russia, p. 1. For period examples of Russia being characterized as an Asiatic or Oriental country prior to the revolution, see e.g. Farbman, “Present Situation in Russia”; Grovin, “Soviet Russia.”

39 For a discussion of revolutionary conditions, especially as they pertain to Russia, see Motyl, “Why Empires Reemerge.”

 

a bottom-up revolution, and Turkey’s top-down.40 What I want to emphasize, however, is Georgi Derluguian’s point that the revolution- ary movements in these countries were not radically different in terms of developmental aspirations. Derluguian observes that “the modern revolutions have a lot to do with the mobility of states in the geo- graphical hierarchy and axial division of labor in the world-system.”41 He also links revolutions to status aspirations: “revolutions have been at the radical extreme of the more usual reform efforts intended to resist the downward decline of one’s group position (as a country or putative nation) in the world’s ranking order.”42 In other words, revolutions are wholesale attempts at countering “decline and back- wardness, or their perceived effects on social, economic, and cultural fields” by “restructuring the state and social composition of national society.”43 Derluguian’s point is that, in essence, there is much alike in what happened in Turkey and Russia – both had concerns about “backwardness” which stemmed from the similarity in the social space occupied by these two countries vis-à-vis the West. Whereas “liberal national reformers (who sometimes were revolutionary, as Atatürk) normally adhered to the Hegelian or Durkheimian ideas of historical progress and order,” “Marxist-inspired revolutionaries rather saw the answer in the state-creation of industrial proletariat because either ideology associated industrial proletariat with modernity and univer- sal salvation.”44 What both of these ideological programs had in com- mon was the view of the state as the seat of salvation.

The different responses we find to the “developmental” problem in Bolshevik Russia versus Kemalist Turkey are first and foremost attributable to domestic factors such as “the class composition, out- look and administrative capacities of the revolutionary elite.”45 The difference in the ideologies, however, should not lead one to over- look the many similarities between the regimes: “Both pursued shock modernization programs that involved mass mobilization, nation and state building, political centralization, as well as attempts at radi- cal interventions in the realms of society and culture.”46 And what- ever differences may have existed in ideologies substance-wise, the

40 Trimberger, Revolution from Above.

41 Derluguian, Bourdieu’s Secret Admirer, p. 9.

42 Ibid. 43 Ibid. 44 Ibid. 45 Ibid., p. 315.

46  Khalid, “Backwardness and the Quest for Civilization,” 234.

 

ideological end-products in the two regimes resemble each other quite a bit: “both regimes produced an official historiography that shared many elements: a glorious foundational moment and a larger- than-life founding figure; leadership by a group with clearly defined goals, to which the founders remained unwaveringly loyal; and a clear break from the past, so that all connections to the old regime were downplayed.”47 Furthermore, what is remarkable is the fact that both regimes went on to forcefully “civilize” peoples in the territories under their control: “Both the Soviet and the Kemalist states had at their disposal the baggage, common to modern European thought, of evolution, backwardness and progress, of ethnic classification of peo- ples, and, indeed, of orientalism.”48 Where they differed is in the out- ward projection of the respective ideologies. Whereas the Bolsheviks aimed to position themselves (along the earlier Slavophile lines) as an international regime which was an alternative to the West, the Kemalist regime aimed to claim its “rightful” place among the “civi- lized” nations of the West.

The divergence of international strategies has to do with dif- ferences in levels of ontological security of the new regimes. The Ottoman Empire was defeated, dismantled, and occupied as a result of World War I. The Kemalist regime did not emerge until 1920, and did not gain control of the country until it managed to fight off the occupation. Russia also suffered setbacks during World War I, but that was before the Bolsheviks took control of the state and withdrew49 the country from the war before it was over. They also managed to keep the territory of the empire intact, and by 1921 had reconquered some of the previously lost territory in the Caucasus.50 This was a very significant difference – the Russian imperial hab- itus survived into the Bolshevik era whereas the Turks had to face the loss of their empire. In other words, the new Russian develop- mentalist regime did not experience the ontological trauma of the humiliation and confusion accompanying military defeat resulting in imperial collapse.

47 Ibid. 48 Ibid., 251.

49 Some argue that the Russian Army was in a better condition in 1916 than it was in 1914. See Service, History of Modern Russia; Service, Russian Revolution.

50  Service, History of Modern Russia, p. 128.

 

Soviet Russia

During the nineteenth century, the Russian state represented itself as a “true Europe” in a situation where the rest of Europe had failed in its own tradition by turning away from the past values of the ancien regimes. During the twentieth century, the Russian state represented itself as “true Europe” in a situation where the rest of Europe had failed the best in its own tradition by not turning to the future values of socialism. (Iver Neumann, Russia and the Idea of Europe, p. 194)

The main difference between Soviet Russia and Kemalist Turkey is that Soviet Russia intended to secure its status in the world by pur- suing its own unique developmentalist strategy, grounded in socialist state planning. Recognizing the hostility of this strategy, the Western powers initially treated the Soviet Union as an international pariah51 because “diplomatic recognition could not be granted a regime that was founded on principles antithetical to Western values.”52 European powers supported the Whites during the Russian Civil War.53 For their part, Bolshevik leaders spoke aggressively about their expectation for workers’ revolts in Europe.54

However, it would be a mistake to read Bolshevik policies as a complete departure from the constraints of the normative context of the international status hierarchy. The decade after the revolution is remarkable for the pro-market orientation of the New Economic Policy adopted by the Soviet Union.55 Matching the economic policy on the international front was the Bolsheviks’ new-found interest in playing by the normative rules of European diplomacy:56 “When they arrived in Italy, the Bolshevik delegates were not wearing their old revolution- ary uniforms, but instead the frock coats and striped trousers of the traditional international diplomat.”57 Ringmar points out that in this

51 See Ringmar, “On the Ontological Status”; Ringmar, “Recognition Game”; Francis, Russia from the American Embassy; Uldricks, Diplomacy and Ideology; Debo, Survival and Consolidation.

52 Ringmar, “Recognition Game,” 123.

53 Ibid., 123. 54 Service, History of Modern Russia, p. 120.

55 Ibid., pp. 123–49, 294.

56 Even Waltz acknowledges this development (Theory of International Politics, pp. 127–8), but never asks the most interesting question about what he observes: what do frock coats have to do with military power?

57  Laue, “Soviet Diplomacy,” p. 24; Trotsky, Revolution Betrayed, p. 140;

White, Origins of Détente; as cited in Ringmar, “Recognition Game,” 123.

 

decade the Bolsheviks were eminently concerned with being perceived as a legitimate state, and followed the rules in order to get this recog- nition from Europe.58 To this end, they continued to pursue two sets of policies: presenting a diplomatic face to the West, and a revolution- ary face to the East that was supposed to stand as the vanguard of all the oppressed peoples.59 The main difference here with the strate- gies implemented by former powers after defeat is that the diplomatic veneer was intended as a cover for revolutionary activities.60

Faced with the growing threat of Nazi activities in the early 1930s, the Soviet Union joined the League of Nations in 1934, emphasizing the importance of collective security.61 Domestically, the developmental project was bearing fruit under Stalin’s rule. The repressed economic situation in the world market had rendered the New Economic Policy moot, and the Soviet leaders therefore “embarked on a quest to build a modern industrial base without the capitalists.”62 Derluguian argues that three institutions underwrote the Stalinist military-industrial enterprise: “the centralized and all-encompassing nomenklatura system of political-bureaucratic appointment; the forced mobiliza- tion of economic resources and manpower for the war effort; and the establishment of national republics.”63 As the military-industrial complex grew, Stalin came increasingly to define the Soviet Union as a great power equal to European powers.64 According to Ringmar, it was the reluctance of Western powers to recognize the Soviet Union as such65 that turned Stalin to Nazi Germany.66 If the Soviet Union had been able to secure great power recognition within the existing system, alignment with Nazi Germany would have been unnecessary, since Stalin viewed the latter as the less preferable option.67

58 Ringmar, “Recognition Game,” 124.

59 Kennedy-Pipe, Russia and the World, pp. 24–6.

60 Ringmar, “Recognition Game,” 125. 61 Ibid., 125–6.

62 Derluguian, Bourdieu’s Secret Admirer, p. 295.

63 Ibid.

64 Erickson, Soviet High Command, pp. 475–7; Ringmar, “Recognition Game,” 125.

65 See Kennedy-Pipe, Russia and the World, pp. 41–3, for a discussion of reasons behind Western reluctance, including the distaste over Stalin’s purges.

66 Ringmar, “Recognition Game,” 126.

67 See Ringmar, “Recognition Game,” for a more detailed discussion of the evidence for this reading of events.

 

After the war, the Soviet Union was a de facto great power. However, as Ringmar demonstrates, the Soviets continued to feel a degree of ontological insecurity vis-à-vis the United States and the Western world.68 As Larson and Shevchenko point out, “early U.S. acknowledgement of Soviet parity did not extend to the political and diplomatic spheres.”69 As a result, the Soviet Union increasingly with- drew from international activities that were led by the United States, and sought to create its own sphere of alternative recognition. During the Cold War years, the two competing constructions of Russia had resurfaced, but with different emphases. The new manifestation of the perception of Russia as a pupil or learner emphasized the Soviet Union as the barbarian at Europe’s gate. This discourse simulta- neously exaggerated the military threat posed by the Soviet Union70 and attributed moral weakness, laziness, and drunkenness to Russians themselves.71 On the other hand, the view of Russia as “true Europe” also persisted among a minority in the West, and was perpetuated by the Soviet Union. This construction saw Russia as the land of the future, the true resolution of the contradictions of European history.72 On the whole, however, “the Soviets’ impressive coercive capabilities did not persuade Western states to accept the Soviet Union as a polit- ical and moral equal.”73

Even the academic discourse on Russia during this period in the West is telling. For instance, Karl A. Wittfogel made a career out of arguing that Russia always had been (and always would be) an objectively “Oriental” society. In a 1950 article, Wittfogel outlines his argument:

On the managerial plane a much greater similarity exists between Oriental despotism and the USSR … Oriental trends [such as the coercive devices of a strong autocratic state] were by no means absent in pre-Mongol Russia. But these trends were too weak to make early Russia marginally Oriental. Russia crossed the institutional watershed when, under the Mongol rule, from the middle of the thirteenth century to the end of the fifteenth century,

68 Ibid., 128.

69 Larson and Shevchenko, “Shortcut to Greatness,” 94.

70 Neumann, Russia as Europe’s Other; Bunce, “Domestic Reform.”

71 Neumann, Russia as Europe’s Other.

72 Ibid., p. 13; Neumann, Russia and the Idea of Europe.

73 Larson and Shevchenko, “Shortcut to Greatness,” 95.

 

it was part of a marginal Oriental empire. It was during this lengthy period of the Mongol Yoke – a period which, for a number of reasons, has been slighted by most investigators – that the coercive and acquisitive techniques of Eastern statecraft were vigorously imposed, making possible the con- solidation of an Oriental autocratic and bureaucratic system of government and society.74

Despite the social scientific language, it is difficult not to come away from this passage with a feeling that it was the (Asian, Eastern, Oriental) Mongols who “ruined” it for the Russians who may other- wise have turned out as all white races are supposed to. The Soviet apparatus is not a product of the various constellations of geographic, ideological, economic, etc. factors but is somehow directly traceable to the Mongolians of the thirteenth century who must have been car- rying its prototype in their genes. In a 1963 article,75 Wittfogel goes further to make a contorted argument that Russia was an Oriental society of the “nonhydraulic” sub-type. Wittfogel was not the only one making such arguments either; George Guins noted in a 1963 article in the Russian Review that “[b]asing judgment on the present regime and the international policy of the U.S.S.R, many … scholars believe that Russia belongs more to the East than the West.”76 Given what was pointed out in the previous chapters, this is not particularly surprising: owning or utilizing a stigmatized position, refusing to play the game of the established, and trying to demand equal treatment from a supposed position of strength ultimately end up reproducing and in fact deepening the stigma.

To sum up, the Soviet developmentalist strategy from World War I until the end of the Cold War, while very much being in response to the problem of stigmatization, differed from the post-defeat strategies of outsider states in several ways. First, having opted out of World War I, the Bolsheviks were spared the ontological trauma of defeat. Their initial recognition deficit was more akin to the experience of the

74 Wittfogel, “Russia and Asia,” 447, 450.

75 Wittfogel, “Russia and the East.”

76 Guins, “Russia’s Place in World History,” 361. Guins himself actually makes an interesting and rather prophetic argument, given what happened after Gorbachev came to power: “No nation can unite the whole world – Russia no more than any other. If Russia may be said to have any historical mission, it is to become a bridge between newly awakened Asia and the newly reorganizing West.” See 367–8.

 

Ottoman Empire or Japan in the nineteenth century – the Bolshevik regime was originally denied recognition because the principles it embodied did not match European norms. In other words, because the Russian Empire had not officially suffered defeat, its ontological relationship with the international system moved into the twentieth century with some continuity. This is also true of Japan until 1945. What was different, however, compared to the nineteenth-century situation of semi-sovereign states – including Russia – was the fact that the Bolshevik regime itself had its own ideological program for catching up with the West. Unlike the semi-peripheral powers of the nineteenth century that had sought equal recognition by adopting European manners, the Soviet Union demanded equal recognition during the Cold War years for the success of its own domestic sys- tem in producing great power capabilities. This equal recognition was sought both by reinterpreting the teleological rhetoric of Western civ- ilization to conclude that the Soviet state represented the final stage77 and by matching American endeavors in every symbolic gesture asso- ciated with superpower status, from nuclear weapons to international chess tournaments.78 Of course, it bears repeating that in terms of its ontology, the Soviet model was no great break from either modernity or Westernization. Wallerstein puts it best: “Leninism, which posed itself as the radical opponent of Wilsonianism, was in fact its ava- tar. Anti-imperialism was self-determination clothed in more radical verbiage … One of the reasons ‘Yalta’ was possible was that there was less difference in the programs of Wilson and Lenin than offi- cial rhetoric maintained.”79 Derluguian also argues that liberalism and Marxism had consensus on a key element: “the identification of a unilinear historical progression moving through objectively exist- ing stages of development.”80 Both ideologies argued (and believed that) “all countries were moving, albeit at different speeds, along the same evolutionary ladder leading towards the final stage of perfec- tion, which would be the end of history, whether in liberal society or in communism.”81 As discussed in Chapter 2, the Soviet model was just as teleological as the modernization paradigm, and therefore very

77 Neumann, Russia and the Idea of Europe, p. 14.

78 Ringmar, “Recognition Game,”129.

79 Wallerstein, “World-System after the Cold War,” 2.

80 Derluguian, Bourdieu’s Secret Admirer, p. 69.

81 Ibid.

 

much a child of the Enlightenment mindset summarized by Gellner and discussed in Chapter 1. Derluguian’s conclusion sums it up rather well: “As Bourdieu observed, the strongest orthodoxy does not come in one but usually two varieties, in the presumed antinomy of mutu- ally exclusive positions.”82

Gorbachev and “new thinking”

In these circumstances, Gorbachev’s “new thinking” in foreign affairs and domestic reforms can be understood as an attempt to refurbish the Soviet state’s ideological appeal in the world. (Daniel Deudney and John G. Ikenberry, “International Sources,” p. 106)

There is an extensive literature within IR that discusses the causes of the dissolution of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War.83 The main point of contention seems to be how much causality should be attributed to the person of Gorbachev, and also how much of the impetus for change came from domestic vs. international factors. A detailed discussion of the reasons why Gorbachev acted the way he did is beyond the scope of this project.84 However, there are cer- tain aspects to this last period of Soviet thinking that highlight the fact that, despite the Soviet state’s unprecedented success in military industrialization in the semi-periphery, the stigmatization problems of this social space were still plaguing the Soviet state.

For some time, it seemed that the Soviet state had found the semi- periphery’s answer to the developmental gap and had managed to catch up with the core capitalist countries. In the 1970s, the Soviet econ- omy had the world’s second-greatest industrial capacity.85 However,

82 Ibid., pp. 69–70.

83 See e.g. Deudney and Ikenberry, “International Sources”; Mendelson, “Internal Battles”; Mendelson, Changing Course; Checkel, “Ideas, Institutions”; Checkel, Ideas and International Political Change; Arbatov, “Russia’s Foreign Policy”; Bunce, “Domestic Reform”; Risse-Kappen, “Ideas Do Not Float Freely”; Koslowski and Kratochwil, “Understanding Change”; Evangelista, “Paradox of State Strength”; Evangelista, “Norms, Heresthetics”; Brown, Gorbachev Factor; Herman, “Identity, Norms”; Forsberg, “Power, Interests”; Snyder, “Russia”; Stein, “Political Learning.”

84 See Mendelson, Changing Course; Risse-Kappen, “Ideas Do Not Float Freely”; Stein, “Political Learning,” for possible explanations of the mechanisms behind the policy shift.

85  Service, History of Modern Russia, p. 397.

 

the Soviet economy had started running out of steam, and its failures were delayed only because of the unexpected Soviet windfall from the oil crises of that decade. Agricultural policies were highly ineffective, and the living standard of the average citizen was very poor. It need not be pointed out that the Soviet obsession with gaining status parity with the United States had something to do with the mismanagement of resources and the biased attention paid to sectors with symbolic value as great power markers.86

Gorbachev’s reforms were a response to the disastrous state of the Soviet economy,87 but the way they were formulated and justified spoke directly to Soviet concerns about international status: “This strategy promised a magic solution, a shortcut to achieving truly prominent status in the international system and political equality vis-à-vis the West.”88 Deudney and Ikenberry point out that “new thinking” is best seen as an attempt “to refurbish the Soviet state’s ideological appeal in the world.”89 Unlike the Marxist rhetoric, how- ever, the globalist outlook of the “new thinking” offered a “basis for a cooperative relationship with the Western powers.”90 According to “new thinking,” “the Soviet Union would chart a path to better understanding of global problems, interdependence and the need to cooperate, and the priority of ‘universal values.’”91 The similarity between Gorbachev’s rhetoric here and the post-defeat discourse of both Atatürk and Yoshida should be apparent to the reader.

Basically, already at this point the Soviet state had started to dis- play a tendency toward the default strategy choice of defeated powers. This does not mean that Gorbachev and his advisers necessarily envisioned the demise of the Soviet Union; in fact, evidence points to the contrary. Gorbachev, at least in the early years of his govern- ment, continued to be a firm believer in Marxist-Leninism and had no intention of taking either glasnost or perestroika to the point they ultimately ended up going.92 What he did acknowledge, however, is

86  Hazan, Olympic Sports.

87 Deudney and Ikenberry, “International Sources,” 76.

88 Larson and Shevchenko, “Shortcut to Greatness,” 97.

89  Deudney and Ikenberry, “International Sources,” 106.

90 Ibid.

91 Larson and Shevchenko, “Shortcut to Greatness,” 97. They are paraphrasing Gorbachev’s speech in FBIS Daily Report-Soviet Union, February 17, 1987, FBIS-DRSU, 20.

92 Service, History of Modern Russia, pp. 443–8.

 

what Alexander II or Mahmud II had also admitted almost exactly a century before: the Soviet system was falling short compared to the Western alternative. He knew that the Soviet Union had either lost or was about to lose the military competition. In other words, while imperial collapse had yet to happen, military defeat was already on the table, so it is not surprising that Gorbachev came to see the world in similar terms as Atatürk and Yoshida. Having lost out on the strategies of trying to rearrange the normative order, a corrective strategy of emulation, especially one that built on Soviet strength in the community of the stigmatized, was becoming the more attract- ive alternative. By introducing reforms, what Gorbachev did was to demand the rearticulation of the Soviet role in the world: instead of being the exclusive leader of the downtrodden, i.e. the stigmatized East and the South, who would lead them to the top by displacing the established, the Soviet Union would now be the bridge, the medi- ator between the established and the outsiders. The distance between Gorbachev’s New Thinking and Yoshida’s understanding of Japan’s relationship with Asia and Africa is a short one indeed. Furthermore, just as in the Turkish and Japanese cases, despite outside appearances, Gorbachev did not have unwavering support for his vision93 – he had to earn that support by making a compelling argument that would appeal to the sensitivities of the Russian people.

According to Gorbachev, the problems of the Soviet state would be solved only if it could be reintegrated into the capitalist world econ- omy on honorable terms. This desire further explains why secessionist movements were not repressed by force.94 In that respect, the impact of Gorbachev and his reforms repeat the story of the previous cen- tury: the reforms were implemented in order to save the regime, but brought about its demise instead. Once the Soviet Union collapsed, the second condition for the preference of cooperative stigma strat- egies was met: loss of imperial status. This brought to the fore an unresolved question: “Long submerged under the czarist and then Soviet empires, the Russians have never before been forced to define precisely who is a Russian and what the proper limits of Russian ter- ritory should be; now they must find answers.”95

93 Evangelista, “Norms, Heresthetics,” 30.

94 Derluguian, Bourdieu’s Secret Admirer, p. 128.

95 Goble, “Russia and Its Neighbors,” 79.

 

After the Soviet Union: foreign policy choices from Gorbachev to Putin

Is there a “right to be great”? Russia is not alone, but it is extreme in claiming this right. What Russia wants is an agreement that it can control the destinies of other nations; an agreement which reflects not its present weakness but its past, its hopes, its future. (Guardian, March 22, 1997)

“We don’t want superpower status,” Mr. Putin told reporters during an interview at his country house. “We believe this status is deliberately fos- tered within the EU in order to remind [people] that Russia [used to be] the evil Soviet Union.” (Washington Times, September 12, 2006)

After the ascent of Gorbachev to the General Secretariat in 1985, there emerged three camps within Soviet politics that also shaped Russian pol- itics after the demise of the Soviet Union. First, there was a pro-Western group which had considerable influence over the Foreign Ministry in the last years of the Soviet Union and early years of the Russian Federation under Yeltsin’s rule.96 The pro-Western group of “International Institutionalists”97 argued that the best option for Russia was political and economic integration.98 This group believed that Russia is a natural member of Western civilization and that the international environment is, in general, friendly to Russian security:99 “Its discourse positions the ‘normal,’ ‘civilised’ world congruous with the West as the referent for the Russian evolving identity.”100 According to this group, Russia’s main priority should be liberalizing its domestic politics and economy.

Those holding “middle-ground” positions were the moderate lib- erals and moderate conservatives, who may be called “‘statists’ or ‘liberal nationalists’.”101 Moderate liberals also favored a relatively pro-Western policy but emphasized the uniqueness of Russia’s geopol- itical position.102 Moderate liberals are sometimes called the “defensive

96 Arbatov, “Russia’s Foreign Policy,” 9.

97 Alternatively described as “liberals, democrats, Westernizers, Atlanticists.” Kassianova, “Russia: Still Open to the West?” 533.

98 Arbatov, “Russia’s Foreign Policy,” 10; Tsygankov, “From International Institutionalism,” 249.

99  Tsygankov, “From International Institutionalism,” 253–8.

100 Kassianova, “Russia: Still Open to the West?” 824.

101 Ibid., 825.

102 Arbatov, “Russia’s Foreign Policy,” 11. See also Kassianova, “Russia: Still Open to the West?” 825.

 

realists” of Russia because while they do not believe Western inten- tions are “inherently hostile,” they argue that as a competitor, the West had no interest in preserving Russian strength.103 They suggested that “Russia’s role is as a great Eurasianist power that stabilizes and organizes the ‘heartland’ of the continent, serving as a buffer between European and non-European civilization.”104

Moderate conservatives, on the other hand, while not entirely rul- ing out cooperation with the West, believed that Russia should hold onto its “sphere of influence” as a great power.105 This group is some- times called the “aggressive realists” of Russia because they have imperial tendencies, believing the external environment to be gen- erally hostile to Russia’s interests.106 Like the moderate liberals, they emphasized the cultural uniqueness of Russia, and its independent, autarchic, Eurasian civilization that is especially suited for imperial organization.107

Finally, there was (and is) an ultra-nationalist group devoted to the revival of the Russian Empire.108 These “revolutionary expansion- ists” see Russia as an anti-Western state,109 and favor Russia’s expan- sion into China, the Muslim world, and Europe:110 “Their foreign policy discourse exploits highly mythologized narratives of Russian civilisational uniqueness and ‘mission.’” In the immediate aftermath of the Cold War, this group was associated with extremists such as Zhirinovsky and some extreme-left communist factions. This group commanded 43 percent of the votes in the 1993 elections but has not been able to match that showing since then. However, in the last two decades, Russia has at times given signals which worry observers that the weight of the opinions of this group in foreign policy circles might be increasing.

Before getting into an account of Russian political developments post-Cold War, it should be noted that these three camps are best

103  Tsygankov, “From International Institutionalism,” 258.

104 Ibid., 254.

105 Arbatov, “Russia’s Foreign Policy,” 13. See also Kassianova, “Russia: Still Open to the West?” 825.

106  Tsygankov, “From International Institutionalism,” 259.

107 Ibid., 225–6.

108 Arbatov, “Russia’s Foreign Policy,” 13.

109  Tsygankov, “From International Institutionalism,” 256.

110 Ibid., 263. See also Kassianova, “Russia: Still Open to the West?” 825.

 

seen as the current manifestation of a trend that is as old as Russia’s involvement in systemic politics. As Neumann has convincingly argued,111 debates in Russia about which direction the country should take have always been between three positions: those who argue that Russia naturally belongs with Europe and the West (Westernizers of the old days112); those who argue that Russia is a Eurasian country with a unique history, and should therefore pursue its policies accord- ingly (Eurasianists); and finally, those who argue that Russia deserves to be a non-Western superpower/empire/hegemon (Slavophiles). We have also seen that these camps have their counterparts in Turkey and Japan. This repeated pattern of division within domestic debates is a direct consequence of the special social space these countries share within the international system and the relational ontological inse- curity they suffer as a result.

In fact, these camps correspond rather well to the stigma-response strategies articulated in Chapter 2. There are those who favor “cor- rection” in hopes of joining the “normal” civilization, and there are those who favor rejecting standards of “normal” society altogether. In the middle are those who want to exploit the stigma, either as a way of gaining influence among the community of the even more stigmatized, or as a characteristic which demands special accommo- dation. It is not a surprise that we find the same debate repeated over and over again not only in all three countries under investigation, but also across time, and it is especially vibrant in periods which call state identity into question.

In Russia, this time, the debates about identity have lasted longer than they did in Turkey and Japan after their respective defeats. Part of the difference may be that we do not have the benefit of hindsight in this case. In fact, if we bring the analysis up to the present day, it may be plausibly (but not definitively) argued that Russia has finally settled on a steady course (though how that course will be affected by the current global economic crisis remains to be seen). Nevertheless, if there is anything resembling a consensus about the direction of Russia, it is the fact that “the link between the clichéd ‘identity cri- sis’ that Russia has been struggling through ever since post-Soviet

111 Neumann, Russia as Europe’s Other; “Self and Other ”; Russia and the Idea of Europe.

112 See the discussion on pp. 208–210 about the nineteenth century.

 

emancipation and its foreign policy – commonly represented as contradictory, incoherent and lacking strategic vision throughout most of the period – was established early.”113 Russians, just like the Turks and the Japanese, historically have used foreign policy as the principal mechanism of self-identification114 – as long as debate rages about foreign policy direction, it rages about identity, and vice versa. And while many outside observers are quick to declare Russian inten- tions to be one thing or the other, the diversity of opinions regarding what Russia is up to these days is itself evidence of the fact that the question is far from settled.

There are several reasons for the differences in the way the Russian debate is playing out compared to the other cases. First, the way Russia fought its war for recognition was different, and therefore its resolution was different. In other words, the Cold War was not like World War I or World War II – it was a cold war after all, fought to a greater extent in the realm of symbolic gestures and arms races than on the battlefield. Therefore, defeat did not occur on the battle- field. As argued above, the fact of defeat or the unavoidability of it probably became apparent to the Soviet leadership some time in the 1980s. This had two related consequences: the unraveling of the empire was decoupled from the military defeat and no rival occupied either Russia or its previous spheres of influence. The former factor inevitably lengthened the period of uncertainty about Russia’s new identity (as cataclysmic events shaking state identity came in not one but two waves), while the latter gave a degree of breathing room to the rejectionist camp in Russia, the like of which the Japanese or the Turkish reactionary groups never had.

The argument here is that it was much more difficult to plausibly make the “let’s turn to Asia” argument in after-defeat Turkey or Japan (although there were groups in both countries which did make the argument right after defeat) – both had not only lost most of their imperial possessions but also lost most of them to the influence of their former rivals due to the intervention of the League of Nations and the United Nations, respectively. Russia did lose considerable terri- tory, but not to the same extent. And many states which did gain their

113 Kassianova, “Russia: Still Open to the West?” 821. Also see Kerr, “New Eurasianism.”

114 Kassianova, “Russia: Still Open to the West?” 821.

 

independence from Russia were easily brought back under Russian influence,115 either because they were led by people whose background made them amenable to taking orders from Russia or because they had no other realistic alternatives (or both). This brings me to the second main difference: the international backdrop for the Russian debates is rather different than it was for Turkey and Japan – I will deal with that in more detail in the next chapter, but for now, suffice it to say that it is not a context which makes committing to one side or the other par- ticularly rewarding from a status perspective. When we look at how the identity debate actually progressed in Russia, we can observe that its earlier contours very much resembled those in Turkey and Japan, but the response from the outside was different. Let me explain.

The pro-Western camp dominated Gorbachev’s last years and the first years of Yeltsin’s government (up until the mid-1990s). These groups pursued policies with the explicit intent of integrating with the West.116 Indeed, the “new thinking” of the Gorbachev years was for- mulated with the intent of accomplishing Russia’s entry to the West, but as Larson and Shevchenko argue, the rhetoric of “new thinking” was such that Russia was being presented to the world as a leader in collective security matters.117 This thinking was based in a philosophy of humanistic universalism, and by following it Russia was supposed to assume a new role in tampering with the excesses of the capitalist order while simultaneously joining it.118 Under the influence of “new thinking” politicians and advisers, Russia made many “unilateral concessions on matters such as UN sanctions on Yugoslavia, Iraq and Libya; the levels and limitations of weapons permitted under START II; controls on missile technology exports to India and arms sales to Iran; the Western position on the rights of Russian minorities in the Baltic; and the dispute with Japan over the South Kurile islands.”119

The Foreign Policy Concept of 1993 was very much a product of this particular vision, even though it only made one reference to “the innovative contribution of Gorbachev’s ‘New Political Thinking’.”120 The Concept emphasized the “democratic nature of the new Russian

115 Lynch, “Realism of Russia’s Foreign Policy,” 8.

116  See Larson and Shevchenko, “Shortcut to Greatness.”

117 Ibid., 87. 118 Ibid., 86.

119 Arbatov, “Russia’s Foreign Policy,” 23; see also Forsberg, “Power, Interests.”

120 Kassianova, “Russia: Still Open to the West?” 829.

 

statehood.” The document described the West as “one of the most important centres of the world economy and international relations [and] the global civilisational process.” “World’s leading democracies,” “leading industrially developed states,” and “leading economically and democratically developed states” were referenced. The Concept stated that “achieving the main civil and economic characteristics associated with the constitutive qualities and values of ‘the West’” was among the top priorities of Russia.121 While the Concept also discussed possible points of disagreement between Russia and the West, “the overriding importance of shared democratic values and fundamental interests”122 was repeatedly emphasized. The Concept also declared “the end of the East–West confrontation” and hopefully described a future of collabo- ration with NATO and support by Western powers. We can note here that the Russian view of the world at this early point after the collapse of the Soviet Union was very much in line with the views expressed by Turkish and Japanese leaders at the corresponding point in the time- lines after their respective defeats.

Such Russian overtures were greeted with skeptical relief by the West:123 “The Western powers were ready to stop considering Russia as a foe, but politely declined the enthusiastic appeals from Yeltsin and Kozyrev to instantly become allies.”124 This created a backlash within Russian politics, and strengthened the hand of moderate con- servatives as well as the nationalists who accused the pro-Western camp of humiliating the country by a conciliatory stance that achieved nothing.

Yeltsin himself wavered between the two camps. He argued that it was time for Russia to join “the civilized world” by adopting principles of the “market economy,” but also made remarks that he wished to expand Russia at the expense of the former Soviet Republics.125 Faced with for- eign criticism, he had to back-track. Nevertheless, electoral and polit- ical pressures after 1993 forced Yeltsin126 to adopt an awkward middle

121 The Foreign Policy Concept of 1993 as quoted in Kassianova, “Russia: Still Open to the West?” 829.

122 Ibid., 830.

123 Owen, “Transnational Liberalism,” 135.

124 Arbatov, “Russia’s Foreign Policy,” 23; see also Kissinger, “New Russian Question,” 12.

125 Service, History of Modern Russia, p. 520.

126 Motyl, “Why Empires Reemerge.”

 

ground of pro-Western foreign policy abroad, on the one hand, and increasingly authoritarian “Russia first” rhetoric at home, on the other. Malcolm and Pravda term this policy “Pragmatic Nationalism.”127

This shift was very much manifested in the 1997 National Security Concept, which had a remarkably different tone and outlook than the 1993 Foreign Policy Concept. References to democracy and the West were dropped with the exception of a single instance of a “warn- ing against the danger of Russia’s ‘technological dependence on the leading states of the West’ and a mention of discriminatory measures against the Russian goods in the ‘developed countries of the West.’”128 Whereas the 1993 Foreign Policy Concept stated that “achieving the main civil and economic characteristics associated with the constitu- tive qualities and values of ‘the West’” was among the top priorities of Russia,129 the 1997 National Security Concept took “care to maintain equal distancing in relation to the ‘global, European and Asian eco- nomic and political actors.”130 Kassianova notes that the document was marked by “a strained kind of optimism, at least partly relying on the sense of nuclear potential rather than confidence in the benign character of the external environment.”131

Even though Yeltsin, as a masterful politician,132 maintained his tenuous position at the helm well until the end of the decade, by increasingly adding a nationalist veneer to his government – as in the replacement of Kozyrev with Primakov in 1996133 – he could not do much to ensure the success of his economic liberalization policies.134 His popularity waned as the Russian economy deteriorated. The eco- nomic crisis of 1998 effectively ended the Yeltsin era135 and in 1999,

127 Malcolm and Pravda, “Democratization and Russian Foreign Policy,” 541.

128 The National Security Concept of 1997 as quoted in Kassianova, “Russia: Still Open to the West?” 831.

129 The Foreign Policy Concept of 1993 as quoted in Kassianova, “Russia: Still Open to the West?” 829.

130 The National Security Concept of 1997 as quoted in Kassianova, “Russia: Still Open to the West?” 832.

131 Ibid.

132 See Service, History of Modern Russia, pp. 509–41.

133 Freedman, “Russia and Israel,” 140.

134 For a discussion of possible reasons why Yeltsin’s economic reforms fell short, see e.g. Handelman, Comrade Criminal; Roberts and Sherlock, “Bringing the Russian State Back in”; Blasi et al., Kremlin Capitalism; Sergeev, Wild East; McFaul, Russia’s 1996 Presidential Election.

135 Roberts and Sherlock, “Bringing the Russian State Back in,” 477.

 

Yeltsin appointed Putin, a politically unknown figure with a KGB background, as his prime minister and, ultimately, successor. Putin quickly gained popularity during his time as prime minister, helped especially by Russian actions in Chechnya. Within a year, Putin’s popularity rating had soared from 2 percent to 50 percent.136

During the time he was in power, Yeltsin referred back to themes from the “new thinking” years, arguing that Russia was still a great power, but with the added character of benevolence: “Russia’s authority is acknowledged by the world … [b]ut, for the first time in 80 years, this acknowledgement is based not on fear, as it was under Stalin, Brezhnev, and others. Not on the dread of being buried under the splinters of empire.”137 His policies were closely associated with US recommendations. Nevertheless, some obser- vers in the United States remained unconvinced of Russia’s com- mitment to a Western alliance. For instance, a 1998 editorial from the Washington Times remarks that the “direction of Russian for- eign policy … is reminiscent of past Soviet foreign policy … its function is … to support anti-American regimes everywhere.”138 The main disagreement between the United States and Russia dur- ing the Clinton–Yeltsin years was the Balkan disputes over Bosnia and Kosovo. Toward the end of the Yeltsin era, however, there was growing frustration and disappointment over Russia’s failed econ- omy, its constant need for assistance, and desperate clinging to the title of “great power.”

Editorials in the Western press made light of Russia’s pretensions of mediation in the Balkan disputes and its need to be treated as an equal at the same time as it had its hand out for Western aid: “There is one sense – and only one – in which Russia is a Great Power. It still has a large (though aging) nuclear arsenal. But that’s it … Moscow gets away with stuff … precisely because the West lets it”;139 “‘They so desperately want to be treated as equals. But it’s hard to take them seriously when they stamp their feet petulantly and then give in,’ says one military source.”140 Perhaps unsurprisingly, Yeltsin’s

136 White and McAllister, “Putin and His Supporters,” 383.

137 From Yeltsin’s 1997 Independence Day Speech, News Service Reports (June 23, 1997).

138 Perlmutter, “Who Lost Russia … Our New Rival?” A17.

139 Newsweek (June 21, 1999).

140 Christian Science Monitor (June 21, 1999).

 

last year in office was marked by an increasingly belligerent rhet- oric.141 He made menacing remarks about Russia’s ability to use its nuclear weapons, and denounced American culture and values on a trip to China.142

Nevertheless, the Yeltsin years are marked by an important sym- bolic – and mostly inadvertent – accomplishment. In 1994, during the early years of Yeltsin’s rule, Russia was invited to attend G-7 meetings and in 1997, Russia was invited to formally join the organization. It is noteworthy that these goodwill gestures from the West followed two moments of crisis in Yeltsin’s rule, during the 1993 and 1996 elec- tions. Yeltsin responded to both by taking another step toward the nationalist direction, which the West rewarded, interestingly enough, by bringing Russia closer to the inner capitalist club: “The idea was to prop up the flailing Boris N. Yeltsin by making Russia look like a member of the club, even though it didn’t qualify based on income or economic growth,” remarks an editorial in the Baltimore Sun.143 Russia, however, did not really take advantage of this membership until Putin’s presidency.

The first decade of the Russian Federation ended as clouded in uncertainty as it was when it began. Allen Lynch notes in 2001 that:

since 1993, in response to the frustration of early Russian aspirations to join the Western (i.e. G-7) economic, political and security communities, Russian diplomacy has moved in a decidedly unilateralist and frequently anti-Western (often anti-US) direction, reflecting the priority of establish- ing Russia as the integrating power in central Eurasia as opposed to inte- grating Russia within the broader G-7 world.144

He also notes, however, that Russia managed to avoid causing a rup- ture with the G-7.145 Lynch reads the new direction of Russian foreign

141 Despite these developments, Michael McFaul remained optimistic about Russia’s chances for democratization: “Most Russians now believe that their country must develop a market economy and adhere to the principles of market economy … most Russians, although disappointed with Western policies toward Russia, still believe that integration with the West is in Russia’s national interest … If a rollback were going to happen, it would have followed Russia’s financial meltdown in August 1998.” McFaul, “Getting Russia Right,” 59–60.

142 New York Times (December 11, 1999). 143 July 14, 2006.

144 Lynch, “Realism of Russia’s Foreign Policy,” 7–8.

145 Ibid., 8.

 

policy as a realist turn:146 “It fell first to Kozyrev and then to Primakov to make the adaptations required to reconcile post-Soviet Russia to a subordinate position in the international system in a domestic set- ting wherein most Russian elites persisted in assuming Russia’s great power status.”147 If we take realist to be synonymous with “realistic” that explanation could indeed be classified as realist. However, it is much more plausible to read it as the result of a frustrated corrective strategy – Russia wanted to be included among the “established” and was willing to engage in the necessary stigma corrections by adapting a market economy and democratic institutions, but found the Western community aloof to its overtures.

Even after he became the Russian president, Putin’s intentions remai- ned rather opaque to Western observers. Some observers in the West and the former Soviet Republics were skeptical from the start: on June 15, 2000, the Lithuanian deputy speaker described Putin’s foreign policy as Stalinist;148 a Canadian commentator observed that the West should brace itself for the worst as Putin was sure to default on Russia’s $160 billion foreign debt.149 Others did not know what to make of Putin.150 Yet others were positively “giddy” about what Putin’s presidency meant for Russian capitalism.151 If observers had reached a consensus on any one thing, it was that Putin believed in a strong, paternalist Russian state, and did not reject the legacy of the Soviet period.152 What they could not agree on was whether this was a good or a bad thing.

Since taking over from Yeltsin, Putin has argued that Russia can take “its rightful place in the world” by restoring its economic strength.153 In one of his first public speeches, Putin called for a return of Russia’s strong state tradition and argued that Russia has to look out for its own national interests: “Several years ago, we fell prey to an illusion that we have no enemies. We have paid dearly for this.”154 After he was sworn in, he emphasized his desire for Russia to become “a rich, strong and civilized country of which its citizens are proud and which is respected in the world.”155

146 Ibid., 23. 147 Ibid., 23–4.

148 BBC Monitoring Former Soviet Union (June 15, 2000).

149 National Post (June 17, 2000).

150 Washington Times (May 7, 2000); The Wall Street Journal (July 11, 2000).

151 Friedman, “Keep Rootin’ for Putin,” The New York Times (December 27, 2001).

152 Nicholson, “Putin’s Russia,” 870. 153 Ibid., 871.

154 Putin, as reported in Washington Times (January 31, 2003).

155 Putin, as reported in the Washington Post (May 8, 2000).

 

Putin soon unveiled a new foreign policy blueprint that attached great importance to the Group of Eight (G-8) and called for closer cooperation with the European Union.156 In the Foreign Policy Concept of 2000, the category of the referents for defining Russia’s interests and objectives were broadened to “include the ‘world community’ and ‘world economy,’ ‘market economy methods’ and ‘values of democratic society,’ ‘international economic organisations,’ and the familiar but very rarely mentioned ‘leading states of the world’ along with a single reference to ‘influential developing states,’ all complete with thoroughly depersonalized ‘foreign states and interstate associations.’”157 While calling for cooperation and partnership, the document also expressed growing concern about Russia’s inability to influence the structural- economic and legal conditions of the international system.158

Putin made good on his word by insisting on equal-partner treat- ment in the Japan 2000 summit of the G-8.159 He made a strong and determined showing at the summit, surprising the other leaders in the group who were accustomed to dealing with Yeltsin, whose “clownish antics … [had] only cemented their perception that Russia – notwith- standing its nuclear arsenal – lacked a government that could be taken seriously.”160 Putin came to the summit bearing news from his visit to North Korea and impressed the leaders by not asking for debt relief. He continued his impressive showing in foreign policy by engaging in a whirlwind tour of world capitals in the first year of his tenure, as well as issuing declarations about every possible strategic relation- ship of Russia.161 Of course, Putin was very much helped by Russia’s

156 Washington Post (July 11, 2000); South China Morning Post (July 12,

2000).

157 The Foreign Policy Concept of 2000 as quoted in Kassianova, “Russia: Still Open to the West?” 832.

158 Ibid., 833. 159 Reuters News Service (July 13, 2000).

160 Washington Post (July 24, 2000).

161 See e.g. the following headlines: “Putin’s Indian Visit,” ITAR-TASS News Wire (October 1, 2000); “Putin’s Role in Foreign Policy Expands with Serb Crisis,” Washington Times (October 4, 2000); “Putin Says Long-Term Relations with Iran Important,” BBC Monitoring Middle East (October 17, 2000); “Asian Countries Still Top Putin’s Agenda,” China Daily (November 10, 2000); “Putin Stresses Cooperation with Asia Pacific,” Xinhua News Agency (November 9, 2000); “Russia Angles for Bigger Role in Mideast, Israel’s Foreign Minister Will Visit Moscow,” Christian Science Monitor (November 29, 2000); “Putin Says He Will Visit Egypt in 2001,” ITAR- TASS News Wire (December 25, 2000).

 

economic recovery, which freed his hands to pursue international contacts.162

Putin also capitalized quickly on the events of September 11 by supporting American action in Central Asia in return for Western indulgence for Russia’s military campaign in Chechnya.163 This was interpreted as a dramatic pro-Western shift in Putin’s foreign policy, both at home and abroad. Nationalists, especially those within the ranks of the military, initially criticized Putin for these concessions and others, such as the closure of Russia’s spy station in Cuba.164 It was not immediately evident what Russia received in exchange for its uncondi- tional support for US anti-terrorism efforts.165 At this time, Putin also faced some criticism from Parliament for pursuing a too friendly for- eign policy toward the West.166 Nevertheless, Putin’s domestic approval ratings stayed strong, and the strategy played out well by getting some semblance of international legitimacy for Russia’s actions in Chechnya. A 2004 article by John O’Loughlin et al. gives us an interesting take on this episode: “President Putin sought to represent the event as a ‘global Chechnya’ … 9–11 provided the occasion for the development of an innovative geopolitical script that asserted the identity oppos- ition ‘civilised/barbarian’ as a fundamental axis in world politics, (re-) located Russia within the West as a ‘civilised power’ and gave Russian geoeconomic interests priority over traditional geopolitics.”167 The authors also found that while the Russian public continued to harbor suspicions about US intentions in Central Asia, the above-mentioned shift engineered by Putin had significant support across all groups in Russia.168 They further note that:

On one hand, most Russian citizens admire the economic, technological and social achievements of Western countries and are persuaded that Russia must and can reduce her laggard status and reach the same level of economic development as the West. On the other hand, they realize how

162 White and McAllister, “Putin and His Supporters,” 384.

163 Service, History of Modern Russia, p. 544.

164 The Hindu (November 18, 2001); BBC Monitoring Former Soviet Union

(November 17, 2001).

165 Nezavisimaya Gazete editorial, as reported in BBC Monitoring Former Soviet Union (March 11, 2002); Financial Times (April 15, 2002).

166  Financial Times (April 15, 2002).

167 O’Loughlin et al., “‘Risky Westward Turn’?” 4.

168 Ibid.

 

deep the gap remains and how difficult it is to catch up with “the West.”

… Indeed, 71% of respondents to the VTsIOM (All-Russian Centre for Research on Public Opinion) survey held in November 2001 agreed with the statement that Russia belonged to a “Eurasian” civilization and, there- fore, the Western model did not suit her, and only 13% accepted that their country was part of European and Western civilization. These ratios are a kind of compensatory reaction based on understanding that the gap separ- ating Russian and Western standards of living remains important.169

If we did not factor in Russia’s preoccupation with avoiding outsider status, these findings would present a paradox: while the majority of the Russian public in 2001 did not see themselves as part of Western civilization and no longer thought that emulating Western models was a desirable strategy, on average they supported Putin’s efforts to utilize 9/11 to recast Russia as one of the “good guys” within the fold of Western civilization. While some of this probably had something to do with Putin’s ability to secure support for (or at least indifference to) the Russian campaign in Chechnya as a result, such an outcome is also very much in line with the argument in this book. Regardless of what else Russia has done since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the West remains the main referent it defines its identity against – and any conceptual construction which defines Russia as a member of the “established” club is bound to be satisfying to a Russian public still shaped by an imperial-past national habitus. That Putin was able to achieve this redefinition (however briefly) without actually having to commit to any “corrective” domestic strategies made this strategy even more appealing – the choice presented no dilemmas of inauthen- ticity in the short run.

In 2002, Putin emphasized his desire for Russia to join the World Trade Organization, and become a rule-making member of the inter- national economic community.170 He also made frequent references to Russia’s “stronger democracy” and “freer economy.”171 However, if Putin seemed to be inching closer to the West abroad, at home he was doing the opposite: rolling back the political, military, and

169 Ibid., 5–6.

170 Putin’s State-of-the-Nation Address, as reported in BBC Monitoring Former Soviet Union (April 18, 2002).

171 RIA News Agency, Moscow (June 12, 2002).

 

legal reforms of Yeltsin and ruling in an increasingly authoritarian manner.172

Putin resisted joining the US campaign in Iraq and in 2003, he put more distance between Russia and the United States: “the other real- ity underlying Mr. Putin’s doctrine is that for all its military, economic and political might, the U.S. cannot, and should not, be allowed to run the world as a ‘my-way-or-the-highway’ cowboy.”173 He started promoting the notion of an “arc of stability” stretching from Europe through the Caucasus and Central Asia to China and Southeast Asia, and concluded military alliances with the former Soviet Republics of Central Asia and the Caucasus.174

Following these developments, the United States rediscovered its skepticism about Russia’s reliability as a partner toward the end of 2003. President Bush openly criticized Putin for curtailing basic democratic freedoms, in stark contrast to his earlier statements to the contrary.175 Tensions escalated in 2004, and came to a head over developments in Ukraine.176 However, economically, Russia bene- fited from the instability of the world energy markets: “Surging demand from China and India, the costliest natural disaster in

U.S. history, a global war on terrorism centered on the Middle East and Central Asia and other events … rocked energy markets” and spurred Russia into the position of a global energy superpower. As a result, in the 2006 summit of the G-8 nations, Putin put great emphasis on the country’s oil and gas exports as a rationale for its inclusion in the club.177 Western observers grew increasingly con- cerned: “As Russia’s renaissance has progressed, so it has moved away from the European democratic model that its former east- ern European satellites have largely embraced.”178 Worries about Russia’s authoritarian turn deepened when in 2008 Putin hand- picked his successor for the presidency and took for himself the

172 Los Angeles Times (September 21, 2003).

173 The Hindu (July 26, 2003).

174 Ibid.

175 Washington Post (December 14, 2003).

176 BBC Monitoring Former Soviet Union (December 12, 2004).

177  International Herald Tribune (February 11, 2006).

178  Financial Times (April 21, 2006).

 

position of prime minister.179 Observers have noted, especially dur- ing the development of the Russian–Georgian War of 2008, that Putin very much remains the de facto leader of Russia. Whether he will continue to fare as well during the present economic crisis as he has in the last decade remains to be seen.

To sum up, Russia’s post-Cold War policy has been shaped by two men – Yeltsin and Putin – neither of whose motivations have been particularly transparent to outside observers. If Yeltsin was difficult to read and predict because he was hotheaded and impulsive, Putin is more so because he is calm, collected, and discreet. However, leaving personalities aside, it is possible to interpret Russia’s post-defeat strat- egies as amorphous and enigmatic precisely because the international adjustment required of it as a former non-Western “great power” is extremely difficult to chart, even compared to the previous cases of Turkey and Japan.

Whither Russia?

And yet, Russia stands out for its 500 year history of always just having being tamed, civilized, just having begun to participate in European pol- itics, just having become part of Europe … Danger resides on the borders, Mary Douglas argues, and so, as long as Russia is constructed as a bor- der case, it will also be inscribed with danger. (Iver Neumann, Russia as Europe’s Other, p. 46)

In analyzing Russia’s post-defeat choices within the status-seeking framework offered in Chapters 1 and 2, we can start by noting that Russia’s response to systemic challenges during the Gorbachev years approximated the corrective strategy of the arriviste. Russia started with the assumption that after implementing certain reforms it could be smoothly integrated into Europe/the West. This supposition came to influence the New Thinkers of the Gorbachev years (who had been favoring a more mixed strategy earlier on, trying to capitalize on the Soviet Union’s access to the developing world) and very much char- acterized the worldview of the International Institutionalists who

179 Technically, he was nominated by the newly elected President Medvedev, but the outcome was entirely predictable and entirely engineered by Putin.

 

dominated the first Yeltsin administration. This was also the belief that was very hopefully articulated in the Foreign Policy Concept of 1993. We see here a slightly stronger belief in an affinity with the Western club than we have observed in other cases – the difference is that while Atatürk and Yoshida went to great lengths to make the case for the presence of such an affinity, Gorbachev and his cadre assumed it.

Four factors account for the optimism of the Russian elite at this juncture: first, there was a historically recurring theme in Russian identity narratives that defined Russia as truly belonging in Europe, geographically and culturally; second, Russia was part of the Concert of Europe, which made it possible for historical revisionists to view the “Easternness” of the Soviet Union as an aberration; third, of the three cases, the Soviet Union had come closest to achieving great power parity with the West, and therefore was ontologically more secure; and fourth, the aforementioned chronological gap between military defeat and imperial collapse initially allowed Russian national habitus to shield itself to some degree from the kind of trauma both Turkey and Japan had experienced.

However, despite the presence of these factors, (some) Russian lead- ers were also aware that the West might not recognize Russia’s natural place in Europe and therefore attempted to present the country’s new openness as an added value to Western civilization; with its experi- ence in standing up for the “oppressed” peoples of the East, it was supposed to temper the excesses of the capitalist core through its own inclusion. This strategy was popular during the early years of New Thinking, and it gained popularity again as the initial optimism of quickly joining the West faded and the moderate liberals started gain- ing influence. As noted above, this group still favored close relations with the West but emphasized Russia’s unique geopolitical position. Therefore, we can conclude that before 1996, or even 1993, Russia displayed a strategy very much similar to that observed in the previ- ous cases.

The variation after 1996 – in other words, the ascendancy of the views of the Eurasianists, if not the nationalists – can be explained by the changes that had occurred in the international system compared to the 1950s or the 1920s. Straightforward, conciliatory emulation of dominant Western and European norms of democracy and economic

 

liberalization of the early 1990s was not working as a foreign policy strategy because in the international system of the 1990s, following this path would not have accrued Russia any real status gains. We see the disappointment Russian leaders had with the “exclusionary” policies of the West clearly expressed in the Foreign Policy Concept of 1997. In the 1920s, Turkey could adopt norms of modernization, secularization, and Westernization, and hope to be admitted to the privileged club of “civilized countries” who were the only fully sov- ereign states of the system. In the 1950s, Japan could follow a devel- opmentalist trajectory by adopting a capitalist template and hope to raise its rank in the GNP-conscious sphere of the First World. Russia, however, could achieve very little status gain by blindly following the democratization requirements of Europe and the West. The presence of the European Union and its size concerns essentially meant that Russia could never again be an integral part of Europe. If Russia were going to restore its status, it would have to do it without membership recognition from Europe.

Ironically, the one move the West made in order to assuage Russia’s concerns about its status in the new international system also under- mined Russian “Westernization” efforts at home. Also considering the fact that Russia cannot join the European Union, both the social disincentives and incentives for Russia have been minimized to a small enough degree to enable Putin and his cadre to conclude that Russia can afford to pick and choose from the socialization menu, and still maintain domestic support. As discussed in Chapter 2, these are the very conditions that fuel rejection strategies – the lower/nomi- nal members of established groups are exactly in the kind of posi- tion to attempt status enhancement by leading a charge of outsiders. Resources that would have been used to break the barrier into the inner circle are now freed up to use to influence others.

To put it another way, the very factors which would lead one to intuitively conclude that Russia, among the three cases under dis- cussion, would be the most amenable to a smooth integration with the West are actually the reasons why Russia’s path has veered more Eastward than the previous cases. Russia can therefore be thought of as being either the most blessed or the most cursed of the three cases discussed, depending on one’s perspective. Its relative cultural prox- imity to the West and its natural material strength have decreased

 

social constraints on Russia and given breathing room to the more hawkish/hostile elements in Russian society, as compared to both Turkey and Japan after defeat.

For these reasons, the adoption of liberalizing political reforms was doomed. This trajectory was further helped by the United States’ increasing emphasis on “security” after 9/11. The shifting normative criteria gave Putin an opening. The “arc of stability” project, if it worked, could allow Russia to secure recognition from both the Third World and possibly even Europe, but most especially from the Muslim world, as a stable and rational alternative to the “bullying” tendencies of the United States. It should be noted, however, doomsday scenarios of a second Cold War notwithstanding, that the post-defeat strategy Russia seems to have settled on is dissimilar to the anti-systemic, hos- tile development path followed by the Bolsheviks. While the Russia of today is leaning toward what seems once again like the rejection of the ideal norms of the international society, it is not in the position it was in the early twentieth century. For instance, while Russia is not a democracy, it has not altogether rejected the democratic govern- ance180 discourse emanating from the West: Putin’s (and by extension, Medvedev’s) Russia is a “semi-authoritarian regime in democratic clothing. That is to say Russia pretends to be democratic”181 and it is “at once, a regime that offers its citizens consumer rights but not political freedoms, state sovereignty but not individual autonomy, a market economy but not genuine democracy.”182 In other words, for all its protestations of hostility and even at the peak of its post-defeat economic prowess, Russia has not been able to reject the norms of the international order this time around.

There are several reasons why Russia has ended up in this juncture. Russia’s ability to pursue its superficially hostile middle-ground strat- egy has been entirely contingent on its fortunes in the rather fickle energy market, and economically Russia has no choice but to play by the rules of the world market. Finally, the Russian regime cannot mus- ter a normative alternative to the dominant systemic one of Western capitalist triumph. Hence, there is no ressentiment strategy on display

180 See Chapter 2.

181 Shevtsova, “Vladimir Putin,” 34.

182  Krastev, “What Russia Wants,” 48.

 

here. The only real niche Russia can carve is as an alternative enforcer of system norms in a context where many countries cannot or do not want to match the expectations of the United States. All that Russia is doing is to take normative criteria of the West and reinterpret them for Eastern consumption. It is not preposterous, therefore, to conclude that Russia has also become an enforcer of systemic values, however enigmatic, dangerous, or unfriendly it might appear.