Realism in Russia?

By Peter Zeihan

From an American perspective, the Eurasian
landmass can be both an intimidating and endlessly invigorating place.
Intimidating, because it is the only landmass on the planet save that of
North America that has sufficient resources to nurture and give rise to a
truly global power; invigorating, because the existence of many disparate
powers there make the task of preventing a single power from arising
relatively easy. The sheer size, internal geographic divides and myriad
states and ethnic groups that are native to Eurasia are perhaps the
strongest factor guaranteeing U.S. national strength -- and on a
subconscious level, all U.S. policymakers realize that.

Within
Eurasia, the perception is, of course, different -- and particularly in
Russia, at the heart of the entire region. While the interconnections of
North America's geographic features -- its plains, river systems and coasts
-- promote development and political unification, Russia's endless tracts of
land and sequestered river systems assist with neither.

As a massive
territory with no easily defensible borders, Russia's geography has dictated
major aspects of its political history: It has been, at various points, a
conglomeration of fractured principalities (the era of Muscovy and Tartary),
a region subjected to sweeping and brutal occupations (the Mongol
occupation), and a native centralized tyranny that was able in various ways
to subjugate the principalities (the tsarist era and the Soviet period).


The result is a culture that equates change with pain, and one that
reflexively views the outsider as either a threat or as a parasite. It is a
logic that is difficult to counter. On one hand, Russia's major interactions
with outside powers -- whether Mongol, Polish, German or Islamic -- have not
left it with sweet memories. On the other, it is obvious that Russia's
suffering under outside powers was beneficial to others: For example, the
Mongol occupation of Russia spared Europe a similar experience, while the
Nazi invasion of Russia set the groundwork for the birth of the
American-dominated West we know today.

The resulting cultural impact
could be best described as a sense of besieged entitlement -- and never has
it been more evident in Russian policy than since the Soviet collapse.


At several points in the past 15 years -- NATO's war against
Belgrade, the introduction of U.S. forces to Uzbekistan, the EU accession of
Finland and Sweden, and Ukraine's recent attempts at realignment, to name
only a few -- Russia's initial resistance and defiance was followed by
stunned disbelief.

In retrospect, all of these were events that could
be expected as a once-dominant power weakened, but then why was Russian
preparation for these battles so nonexistent? Why were Russia's reactions to
critical losses limited to anger and rhetoric, as opposed to preparation for
the future? The answer goes deeper than simply a lack of options -- Russia
was, and remains, a powerful country with many tools for making its views
known and its will reality.

What Russia has lacked, however, is an
elite class that is capable of pushing beyond the bounds of what could be
described as fatalistic paranoia. Put another way, the Russian leadership
has suffered from a superiority complex based on an inferiority complex:
Because Russia has suffered greatly, the argument would go, it is both
stronger and entitled to a greater role within the global community than it
feels it has been afforded. While such a viewpoint can be psychologically
comforting, it is frequently less than useful in maneuvering through the
grand and often deadly game of geopolitics.

And so Russia has fallen
back. At least partly as a result of a clouded worldview, it has lost
influence and territory: Nicaragua, Syria, Mozambique, Angola, Vietnam,
Poland, Latvia, Cuba, Serbia, Mongolia, Georgia, Ukraine. But worst of all,
from the standpoint of a Russian, Moscow has yet to demonstrate it is
capable of crafting a response consisting of anything more substantive than
rhetoric.

Russia needs many things if it is to halt this seemingly
unending slide. But perhaps the one thing it needs most urgently is a new
point of view. And earlier this week, it appeared that changes under way at
the Kremlin could be destined to give it just that.

On Nov. 14, two
unusual Russian politicians -- Dmitry Medvedev and Sergei Ivanov -- were
appointed as deputy prime ministers. Their rise signals a sharpening of
Russian policy both at home and abroad, with the Kremlin beginning to take a
clear-eyed view of its positions and policies around the world.

A
New World View?

To understand the potential direction of Russian
policy, it is important first to understand these two men.

First,
Medvedev. The former presidential chief of staff, now first deputy prime
minister, is certainly a pro-Western technocrat. But he is akin to neither
the starry-eyed reformers who applied disastrous shock therapy in the 1990s,
nor idealistic pro-Westerners in the mold of Grigory Yavlinsky who want to
see Western democratic institutions grafted wholesale onto Russia. At 40,
Medvedev is just old enough to fully comprehend how far Russia has fallen --
having been 24 when the Berlin Wall fell -- but just young enough to have a
mindset radically different from his predecessors. Most critical is that he
admires the West despite the fact that -- unlike Putin -- he has never
worked abroad. His respect is rooted in the accomplishments of the West and
what Russia potentially could gain from them, not out of the unrealistic
desire of many of Russia's pro-Westerners to actually "join" the
West.

In contrast with most reformers, Medvedev believes that the
state should play a strong role in the economy -- particularly in key
sectors such as energy. Medvedev was a key, if quiet, figure in the
onslaught against Yukos, and he is chairman of the board for Gazprom,
Russia's state natural gas monopoly -- which just happens to be the world's
largest energy company. These are not the stances and actions of someone who
believes that capitalism is a magic wand that will fix all of Russia's
problems.

Ivanov, who was Russia's defense minister before being
named deputy prime minister, is similar in his uniqueness. Like Putin,
Ivanov spent the bulk of his career in the Federal Security Service (FSB),
and both were stationed in Europe for a time. Thus, he, like Medvedev, has a
healthy respect for military, economic, political, social and technological
capabilities of the West. But where Medvedev sees opportunities in
interactions with the West, Ivanov perceives threats. Thus, he is a magnet
for the siloviki -- a group of foreign policy, military and
intelligence personnel who want to see Russia restored to its former
glory.

Yet while Russia's nationalists in general and the siloviki
in particular consider him their best-known sympathizer, Ivanov is far more
pragmatic than the average nationalist. Unlike many of the defense ministers
who came before him, he is not concerned about NATO tanks rolling eastward --
realizing that the United States, much less the rest of NATO, lacks that
capacity. Instead, he worries about the steady expansion of Western
influence -- which spread first to Central Europe, then the Baltics, the
Balkans, the Caucasus, and now Ukraine. Ivanov views the West as more of a
cultural and economic threat to Russia than as a military juggernaut.


Both Medvedev and Ivanov are pragmatists and patriots -- though they
obviously still hold their own business interests as well -- and thus are
more likely to occupy the middle ground that pure reformers or nationalists
avoid.

Medvedev sees Western-style corporate governance as a sound
ideal to impose on Russia's oligarchs -- but not at Gazprom, which he sees
as a key to future foreign policy. Ivanov sees cooperation with NATO as a
necessary evil, but more as a means of building a more efficient Russian
military than out of any expectation of swaying NATO policy. And both men
see China as an opportunity: It is a customer for Russian energy and
weapons, and -- by forming a political alliance against the West -- a
crucial potential partner in security policy. But, unlike the siloviki, they
are also more likely to take a comprehensive view of the power to the east,
noting the implications of its giant economy and China's recent "Northern
Sword" military exercises, staged on Russia's southern border. It has not
been lost on either that ethnic Chinese in the border region outnumber the
Russians by more than ten to one.

In short, both see threats in
every opportunity, and opportunities in every threat, making them the first
competent, pragmatic, clear-eyed politicians to reach the top of Russia's
political heap since the Soviet breakup.

Yet neither Medvedev nor
Ivanov is a particularly strong candidate to succeed Putin, despite rife
speculation on that score in the Russian press. Medvedev is Putin's prot�g�,
Gazprom's chairman, and the Kremlin's grey cardinal, but so far he lacks a
sizeable political following from which to independently launch his career.
He well could cultivate such a resource in the next three years, but he does
not have it yet.

Ivanov, meanwhile, is likely not someone to whom
Putin would gladly hand the reins. Unlike Medvedev or Ivanov, Putin is an
instinctual Westernizer -- to the degree that the Russian press has often
quipped: Putin Joins West, Russia May Follow.

So why advance Ivanov
into greater prominence? Two reasons. First, Ivanov has the ability to
either unleash or hold back the nationalist tide, a capacity that Putin
would be foolish to ignore. Second, should Putin's goal of Westernizing come
to naught (something that must have at least crossed his mind as Ukraine

peeled away), Russia would be forced into direct confrontation to the West.
If Russia is to be ruled by a nationalist, Putin would prefer that it be
ruled by a nationalist who is capable of viewing the world without the
preconceptions that have cost Moscow so much.

While this shift has
significant implications for Russian policy, it is important not to overplay
what has occurred. The rise of Medvedev and Ivanov is an important first step
in a shift that Putin is trying to engineer -- but not the shift in sum. That
said, it is clear that the rise of these two men will influence policy in
more than simply subtle ways -- particularly since their promotions
coincided this week with other events of note.

Russian Policy:
Through a Prism of Pragmatism

Another aspect of Putin's Cabinet
reshuffle was the unceremonious sacking of Konstantin Pulikovsky, Putin's
envoy to the Russian Far East (and point-man for the Kremlin's North Korea
policy), without the benefit of a follow-on position. And on the same day,
the FSB arrested Igor Reshetin, general director of TsNIIMASH-Export
company, and two of his deputies for (illegally) transferring space
technology to the Chinese.

For the past decade, Russia's Far East
policy has been quite simple: China is a natural ally of Russia and as such
should be extended economic, political, military and technological favors as
a means of solidifying the relationship.

This perception, has not,
however, been reflected south of the Amur River. While the Kremlin treated
China as an ally, Beijing has viewed Russia as an opportunity at best or a
nuisance at worst -- but certainly not an equal. Wary of political strings
Russia tends to attach to deals, China has been focusing on Kazakhstan as a
key source of energy supplies, and sending its money there rather than to
Russia. Meanwhile, Beijing is unofficially encouraging its citizens to
migrate to Siberia, while also buying Russian hardware to upgrade its
military capabilities. And China has steadily siphoned influence away in
North Korea, leaving Russia largely an outside observer in the six-party
nuclear negotiations. None of this would have been possible if Moscow had
been taking a more realistic assessment of Beijing's motives and
actions.

Between Reshetin's arrest, Pulikovsky's dismissal and
Ivanov's rise, a full re-evaluation of Russia's Far East policy appears to
be in the works -- if not the formation of a new policy that will no longer
blindly assist China's rise without consideration of the long-term
consequences for Russia.

Similarly, Russian policies in Central Asia
are being re-evaluated, although here -- where Moscow's direct influence is
much stronger -- the actions are bolder. A mutual defense treaty Putin
signed in Tashkent on Nov. 14 signals light-years of change from the mutual
hostility that characterized the bilateral relationship as little as two
years ago. This is partly because of a shift within Uzbekistan itself:
President Islam Karimov feels that the United States not only engineered the
various color revolutions that have brought about government changes in
Georgia, Ukraine and Kyrgyzstan, but that Uzbekistan was next on
Washington's list.

Despite its many problems, Uzbekistan is the
most powerful Central Asian state, and whoever has the most influence there
can shape events throughout the region. Due to a much more proactive Russian
stance -- influenced in no small part by Ivanov -- that player is no longer
Beijing or Washington, but Moscow. In fact, not only is the airbase the
United States set up in southern Uzbekistan for the Afghan war being
dismantled on Tashkent's orders, but the Nov. 14 treaty raised the
possibility of a Russian replacement.

Russian proactivity in Central
Asia is not limited to the military sector or Uzbek geography. On Nov. 14, as
so many other key changes were being announced, Gazprom -- which, remember,
is chaired by Medvedev -- entered into a five-year deal that locks down
control of all natural gas exported via Kazakhstan. A good chunk of
Kazakhstan's oil may soon be flowing to China, but now Gazprom is swallowing
all natural gas exported by all Central Asian states. Anyone who wants to
purchase Central Asian natural will discover that they actually have to buy
it from Gazprom. Which means from Medvedev -- and thus, from the
Kremlin.

This change is likely to flare open some eyes across Europe
-- particularly in the Baltics and Ukraine, where leaders are used to being
able to purchase natural gas from Turkmenistan as a means of increasing
their independence from Moscow. Now there is only one player in town, and
that player sets all the prices. Russia has threatened for years to charge
states that do not play by its rules more for natural gas, a development
that would cripple most of them. Now there are no barriers whatsoever to
stop Russia from following through as it sees fit.

Implications of
a Russian Shift

Such policies will, of course, have consequences.
China long has taken the existence of an amicably passive Russia as a given.
A Russia that is openly suspicious -- or even one that asks the occasional
nervous question about "Northern Swords" -- is one that Beijing needs to
figure into its planning in a very different way.

Relations with
Europe are bound to get sticky as well. For instance, the question of
Russia's accession to the World Trade Organization likely will move into
limbo. The biggest point of contention is the role that Gazprom plays in
pricing natural gas -- selling supplies domestically at one-fifth the rate
of international sales. The Europeans want the indirect subsidies to end. A
Russia that uses energy as a tool to pressure rivals -- particularly if
those rivals are EU members -- while maintaining artificially cheap prices
at home will generate considerable discomfort in Europe.

At this
point, it is impossible to trace all of the potential ripples from changes
now under way in Moscow. But what is clear is that, with the rise of
Medvedev and Ivanov, Russia is gaining two leaders who both understand some
of the roots of Russia's current weakness, and who have demonstrated an
ability to think outside the traditional Russian box.

Their
ascendance indicates a creeping re-evaluation of Russia's position. It is a
change that will manifest in all of Russia's relations -- particularly in
areas where the Russian position previously has been driven by hopes or
fears rather than cool, pragmatic calculations.

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