In one direction, there are the evolving values of democracy, rule of
law, economic opportunity,
civility, and collaborative foreign policy. In the other lie nostalgia
for the lost Empire and iron-fisted
despotism, suspicion, xenophobia and militarism.
The glaring contradictions of the Russian nation are epitomized by her
current president Boris
Yeltsin, who was described in the memoirs of his former press-secretary
Vyacheslav Kostikov as a
"capricious, willful, fond of drinking, pitiless, authoritarian, kind,
courteous, polite, democratic"
individual.
When the communist system collapsed in 1991 and Yeltsin took over the
reigns of government,
there was a general sigh of relief that the long East-West confrontation
would finally came to an end.
Many hoped that a new era was beginning in world affairs.
Yet the victory march of liberal ideas in New Russia—after a shortlived,
heady, period following the
abortive communist coup— never got off the ground. The mood of the
country was a far cry from
the euphoria exhibited in the West. Russia felt neither vanished nor
liberated. The ingrained mentality
of her people, who never experienced freedom, the limited vision of
her leaders rooted in the
bureaucratic mires of the party nomenclature, and the weakness and
disunity of her democratic
forces provided the psychoogical background for Russia's inability
to face the realities of her new
position in the world. Compounded by clumsy half-hearted economic reforms,
the tension within the
Russian society has reached a dangerous level. Inevitably, it resulted
in the revival of communist
sympathies and the emergence of hitherto dormant chauvinism.
Although communists and nationalists differ in their denunciation of
Yeltsin reforms, they are unified
in their interpretation of developments of the last decade as a national
disgrace and humiliation. They
fuel the popular discontent with moth-eaten stories about foreign conspiracies,
agents of influence,
Jewish penetration of the government, and Caucasian domination on the
market.
Incapable of countering their opponent's ideological assault with anyconstructive
ideas, the Yeltsin
government has started picking up the slogans of the opposition in
the hope to ride out the storm.
The emphasis on Russia's greatness and the uniqueness of her historic
destiny borrowed from the
vocabulary of the communist-nationalist alliance has not been augmented
by a blueprint of a better
future, based on economic diversity, rule of law, and respect for human
rights.
In the same vein, the foreign policy of the present Russian leadership
has reanimated the old image of
an omnipotent, invincible Russia instead of demonstrating, in words
and in deeds, to the world and
particularly to its neighbors that the new Russia has abandoned for
good her imperial designs.
From the very beginning of Yeltsin rule, his treatment of the outside
world reflected old Soviet
thinking. Russian leaders never concealed their growing desire to reestablish
closer ties with the
former Soviet territories, but they were checked in their practical
moves by Yeltsin's earlier
declarations that the former Soviet republics may "have as much sovereignty
as they can swallow."
Yeltsin's magnanimous gesture did not stand the test of time. The Baltic
states, which always felt
trapped by the Soviets, were completely alienated by Moscow's crude
treatment of their
independence and surged forward to cement their long craved for bonds
with the West. Ukraine, the
closest to Russia in blood, language and culture, has been treated
like a stray sheep. However, to
Moscow's amazement, Ukraine has displayed no docility toward Russian
coercive tactics and
encroachment on the Crimea. It stood firm in the negotiations over
the Black Sea fleet, and as
Russian pressure grow she started looking for allies in the Baltics,
the Caucasus and across the
Atlantic.
Classic imperialist policy, 19th century style, has led Russia to a
near disaster in Transcaucasus and
Chechnya. The conflict over Karabakh destroyed a delicate equilibrium
in the early years of
Gorbachev's perestroika as Armenia and Azerbaijan were deliberately
pitted against each other in
hopes to preserve Moscow's control over the republics. The new Russian
leaders did nothing to
mitigate the conflict. They poured arms to Armenia and secretly courted
Baku. In Georgia, they
publicly expressed support for her territorial integrity while simultaneously
arming and inciting the
Abkhaz separatists. The Kremlin's imperial intolerance of dissent,
failure to comprehend the
post-Soviet realities culminated in the tragedy of Chechnya. The small
proud nation was subjected to
most barbaric treatment just because it wanted a measure of independence
from Russia.
However, in the case of Chechnya, the arrogance of power backfired.
It revealed more than
ruthlessness of Yeltsin and his cohorts, which was witnessed by millions
of people throughout the
world in 1993 when the Russian parliament was set on fire by tanks.
The Chechen conflict
demonstrated the essential weakness of the new regime: its insecurity
and failure to draw into its orbit
other people and nations by setting a shining example of economic prowess
and advances in
democratic reforms. Perhaps Russia's poor economic performance has
produced the most
devastating effect on her former possessions. Having survived the initial
shock of separation and in
their search for identity and new supports, they finally realized that
they can survive independently
without Russia. While the Transcaucasus (especially Georgia and Armenia)
have been grappling with
problems of self-preservation and survival relying partly on Russian
props, the Central Asian
republics have been steadily sliding away, bolstered by the promise
of their natural wealth. The oil
producing states of Central Asia and Azerbaijan have been deemed the
new oil emirates of the next
century.
Russia has been jealously and grudgingly watching the process of negotiations
on "the deal of the
century" —the Caspian Sea oil development project— and trying to get
what she perceives as her
fair share of the pie. However, it was the US White House—not the Kremlin—who
convinced
Azerbaijani president Heidar Aliyev to use the multiple routing option
(through Russia and Georgia)
for the export of early oil. By the end of last year as Yeltsin was
recovering from his heart surgery,
Russia had become largely isolated from her neighbors. Her grandeur
turned into a catchword with
empty purse, faltering economy, demoralized army, and rampant crime
behind the facade. There was
no clear-cut policy, no innovations, no fresh approaches, no vision.
"Russia is fencing off the CIS,"
commented Kazakstan president Nursultan Nazarbaev, an early and ardent
supporter of the now
barely kicking Commonwealth of the Independent States (CIS).
As Yeltsin searched for allies in the face of an advancing NATO, he
found only Belarusian president
Alexander Lukashenko willing to join him in his anti-NATO stance. A
desperate attempt to draw
China into the Kremlin scheme brought about only a high-worded declaration
of unbreakable
friendship but no specific pledge to stand up to NATO's expansion.
Surprisingly, it was the rudely interrupted romance with the Belarusian
ruler that exposed a deep
cleavage among the Russian political elite on the issue of further
integration with some of the former
republics. It has also focused attention on the underlying and growing
discussions within the Russian
leadership on the future course of the country's foreign policy. These
discussions have obviously
grown more productive as the younger breed of Russian politicians entered
the government. Their
voice has been heard lately in a number of ways indicating that Russia
is gradually turning away from
old myths and paranoid fantasies and is tilting toward a more benign
and sober assessment of the
world.
The first move in the right direction was made by Yeltsin himself. It
finally dawned on him that Russia
ought to look for other solutions of the Chechen conflict rather than
to go on with brutal and
indiscriminate bombardment of Chechen towns and villages. Despite fierce
resistance of his military
and security aides and defying slashing attacks from the communist
and national opposition, Yeltsin
acted swiftly to reach an accord with the leaders of "the bandit formations."
Initially he used the
services of General Alexander
Lebed, his erstwhile rival and, briefly, political ally to negotiate
a truce. He went even further by
withdrawing Russian troops from Chechnya and granting a semblance of
independence to the
rebellious republic.
To believe that Yeltsin has suddenly turned peace-loving because of
pricks of conscience would be
highly misleading. Yeltsin and his new advisers feared that the flow
of oil from the Caspian sea may
bypass Russian territory and will gradually eliminate Russia's economic
and political presence in the
area.
The paradox of the current situation is that the threat of NATO's eastward
expansion has compelled
the Russian leadership to speed up the review of its foreign policy.
Some of the most hawkish of
Yeltsin's aides have been booted out of policy-making positions which
intensified rumors about
Foreign Minister Eugene Primakov's future. Yeltsin signature on the
long-delayed friendship treaty
with Ukraine is the latest in a series of agreements with the so called
"near abroad." The Russian
media now admits that the five-year long confrontation with Ukraine
has been absurd. The improved
relations with Moldova are treated in a similar spirit.
Of course, economic considerations have been playing a growing role,
and they have made a shift
possible, just as they made it impossible for the time being to merge
with Belarus. It would be
premature, however, to celebrate the victory of common sense. Trumpeting
the great success of
Russian diplomacy in signing a treaty with NATO, Yeltsin warned that
Russia "will quickly re-think
its relations" with the alliance if the latter dares to move on the
admission of former Soviet republics
to NATO. A Russian foreign ministry official was more explicit in his
comments on the Paris accord
for the "Itogi" TV program: "the territory of the former USSR is the
zone of our interest, and we do
not intend to cede it." The old mind-set and habits still persist.
Unless a coherent policy is worked out in Moscow's relations with its
former republics that ties them
to Russia in a natural way — for example, economically— all attempts
to intimidate or blackmail
them will most likely fail. In fact, it will lead to more estrangement,
if not outright hostility, with its
neighbors. (A typical Soviet dilemma born out of the communal living
where sharing the same kitchen
and bath was proclaimed as the future of mankind.)
Furthermore, the intransigence in dealing with its neighbors will inexorably
and adversely affect
Russia's improving relations with the West and at some point may strike
even at the very foundation
of Russia as a federated state. Separatist moods are on the rise in
multinational Russia, and it is not
only Moslem fundamentalists and admirers of secular Turkey who may
pose threat to Russia's
integrity. It is the unhappy regions of the Russian Far East and Siberia
with China lurking in the
background. It is Karelia and former Eastern Prussia. It is the vast
stretches of arable lands from the
Black Sea to the Caspian. It is the region a few hundred miles east
of Moscow, especially Tatarstan,
with its unpredictable president Mintimer Shaimiev. What then will
remain of Great Russia?
Moscovia?
It's not too late to rectify the situation. The new team in the Kremlin
has made a fresh start. Let us
hope they will not let us down this time.