59. Kennan, Memoirs 1925–1950, 519.
Chapter 3
Putin and the End of Russian “Empire Fatigue”
In retrospect, 1991 offered the first real chance in modern Russian history to break the infernal cycle of imperialist expansion and colonial subjugation of neighboring peoples. It was not a war that caused the breakup of the empire. The empire collapsed because of its internal tensions: its inefficiently planned economy, its lack of freedom, its corruption, and its bureaucratic overload. “Many Russians were weary of supporting and subsidizing the economies of poorer regions of the USSR, such as Central Asia, and argued that economic reforms and modernization in Russia had a better chance if Russian statehood was dissociated from its colonial past.”[1] For the young, liberal reformers the loss of empire was a real liberation, it was like the loss of a historical ballast. They knew, intuitively, that Russia could only proceed further on the road toward a liberal, Western-style democracy if it were able to shake off its centuries-old legacy of imperial conquest and oppression. According to Igor Yakovenko, “the collapse of the USSR was the luckiest event in the past half-century.”[2] Why? Because, as Brzezinski rightly remarked, “Russia can be either an empire or a democracy, but it cannot be both.”[3] Democracy and empire mutually exclude each other.[4] According to Charles Tilly, “segments of empire can in principle achieve some democracy but whole empires remain undemocratic by definition; at an imperial scale their segmentation and reliance on indirect rule bar equal citizenship, binding consultation, and protection.”[5] Zbigniew Brzezinski, therefore, was right when he wrote: “In not being an empire, Russia stands a chance of becoming, like France or Britain or earlier post-Ottoman Turkey, a normal state.”[6]
Empire Fatigue: A Chance of Becoming a
“Normal State”?
The demise of the Russian empire was an atypical event. Apart from an independence movement in the Baltic republics that had started earlier, it found its basis not so much in the periphery—in the nationalism of the colonized nationalities—as in the nationalism of the colonizing center: Russia. This was one of the contradictory outcomes of the Soviet Union, in which ethnic Russians were in control of the party, the army, the KGB, and the heavy industry, but, at the same time, the Russian national identity was suppressed in favor of an invented, mostly artificial “Soviet” citizenship. Indeed, “a strong Russian nationalist movement . . . was in fact the most potent mobilizing force against the Soviet state. It was the merger of the struggle for democracy, and the recovery of Russian national identity under Yeltsin’s leadership in 1989–91, that created the conditions for the demise of Soviet communism and the breakup of the Soviet Union.”[7]
There existed in the center even a certain resentment against the other nationalities, some of which had a higher standard of living.[8] Others, poorer ones, got subsidies from Moscow to balance their budgets. In the end all profited from the center by buying their energy at cheap, subsidized prices. The subsidies were significant. In 1991, for instance, seven Soviet republics received substantial subsidies from the Union Budget, which, in the cases of Tajikistan and Uzbekistan amounted to almost one half of their state budgets (46.6 percent and 42.9 percent, respectively).[9] It was, therefore, no surprise that in the eyes of the average Russian the empire was no longer considered to be advantageous, but, on the contrary, a heavy burden that only cost them money.[10] Russian nationalism, instead of being a motor of Russian expansionism, had become the motor of the Soviet Union’s disintegration in a process of empire fatigue. This empire fatigue could have been the starting point for a revival of the Russian nation on a fundamentally new basis—that of a democratic Russia that had freed itself from its imperialist drive. Severing the old colonial ties can be advantageous for both the colonial power and the former colonized peoples. Adam Smith had already written during the American Revolution:
“Under the present system of management, therefore, Great Britain derives nothing but loss from the dominion which she assumes over her colonies. To propose that Great Britain should voluntarily give up all authority over her colonies, and leave them to elect their own magistrates, to enact their own laws, and to make peace and war as they might think proper, would be to propose such a measure as never was, and never will be adopted, by any nation in the world. No nation ever voluntarily gave up the dominion of any province, how troublesome so ever it might be to govern it, and how small so ever the revenue which it afforded might be in proportion to the expense which it occasioned. . . . The most visionary enthusiast would scarce be capable of proposing such a measure with any serious hopes at least of it ever being adopted.” . . . If Great Britain, however, would decide to do so and would sign a free trade treaty with its former colony, it would not only save money, but “by thus parting good friends, the natural affection of the colonies to the mother country which, perhaps, our late dissensions have well nigh extinguished, would quickly revive. It might . . . favour us in war as well as in trade, and instead of turbulent and factious subjects to become our most faithful, affectionate, and generous allies.”[11]
Adam Smith spoke wise words. But he also considered it unthinkable that a colonial power would voluntarily give up its colonies. However, this was what happened in 1991 in Soviet Russia. It was not only a huge historical opportunity for developing a democracy in Russia, it was also a unique opportunity for Russia to establish new, friendly relations with the former Soviet republics.
Handling Post-Imperial Pain
Unfortunately the reality was different. The empire fatigue was of short duration. Almost immediately after the empire had actually collapsed, it was followed by post-imperial pain. This is a natural syndrome in former empires. As early as the nineteenth century British authors predicted a national—and international—disaster if the British Empire should ever cease to exist.[12] After the Treaty of Saint-Germain, in September 1919, and the dismemberment of the Hapsburg Empire by the Allies, the inhabitants of the new rump state of Austria experienced, apparently, such a “shock of lost empire.” They lived “in a climate of apathy and general depression.”[13] In the Netherlands, after World War II, there was a popular proverb, “Indië verloren, rampspoed geboren” (“If Indonesia is lost, it will be the beginning of catastrophe”).[14] A similar feeling of national disaster could also be found in decolonizing France, where it led to the emergence of the OAS, a right-wing terrorist resistance organization. Yegor Gaidar described this post-colonial pain in Russia as follows:
There is a medical phenomenon in which a person who has had a limb amputated perceives that limb to be still causing pain. The same phenomenon applies to the post-imperial consciousness. The loss of the USSR is a reality. It is a reality that has led to social pain caused by separated families, the suffering of fellow-countrymen abroad, nostalgic reminiscences of former glory, longing for the geography of the homeland that has shrunk or been lost.[15]
Decolonization is always a painful process. According to the Dutch sociologist Van Doorn, “to colonize is to ‘imprison’ others, but it is also to imprison oneself.”[16] This is because to colonize is for the colonizing nation “an investment, not only in the economic sense, but also culturally and morally.”[17] Van Doorn spoke of the “broad, almost total deception” of the Dutch after the loss of Indonesia, which could explain why “the mourning process of the end of [Dutch] Indonesia has been so difficult.” He mentioned as “an additional fact . . . that Indonesia was almost our entire empire. All colonial powers have wrestled with decolonization after World War II, but while England and France in particular were driven step by step from their global positions, the Netherlands lost everything at once.”[18] This fact, to lose “everything at once,” played a role also in Russia. The decolonization was sudden, unexpected, and total. The Russian frontiers were completely redrawn, and after centuries of almost uninterrupted expansion, the map of the country resembled that of sixteenth-century Russia.
Two Reactions to the Loss of Empire:
To Accept or Not To Accept
There are two reactions to the loss of empire: to accept or not to accept the loss. Unfortunately, in the Russian situation, after a short period of shock, the loss of empire did not result in a gradual acceptance, but in a swelling tidal wave of chauvinism and nationalism. It resulted in nostalgia for lost greatness mixed with revanchism and hatred of the “enemies” who had brought the Soviet Union down. Yegor Gaidar, Yeltsin’s reform minister, told how this process took place. “In Russia,” he wrote, “the peak of the post-imperial syndrome mixed with radical nationalism did not come immediately after the collapse of the USSR, as I had expected, but later.”[19]
And he continued:
[W]e had assumed that overcoming the transitional recession and the beginning of economic growth and an increase in real income for the population would allow people to replace the impossible dreams of empire restoration with the prosaic cares of personal well-being. We were mistaken. Experience showed that in times of profound economic crisis, when it is not clear whether there will be enough money to feed the family until the next paycheck and whether there will be a next paycheck or whether you will be fired, most people do not worry about imperial grandeur. On the contrary, when economic security is growing and confidence that this year’s salary will be greater than last year’s, and that unemployment . . . will not affect you, and you see that life has changed but is returning to stability, you can come home and watch a Soviet film with your family in which our spies are better than theirs, where we always win, and the life depicted onscreen is cloudless, and then talk about how enemies have destroyed a great country and we’ll still show them who’s best.[20]
Gaidar shows very clearly that the Russian nationalist revival was not the consequence of some quasi-Marxist Verelendung of the population, but, on the contrary, developed parallel to a growing material well-being and security that enabled people to look further than the worries of their daily life. But the growing material security was not the only factor that explained the emergence of the new Russian nationalism. There were at least two additional factors that played a role. The first was the almost predictable counterrevolutionary drawback that takes place after every revolution and, second, the deliberate nationalist propaganda campaign that was conducted by the political leadership.
Pitirim Sorokin and the Eternal Cycle
of Ideologies in Revolutions
The counterrevolutionary drawback that takes place after every revolution has been described by Pitirim Sorokin (1889–1968), who, before World War I, was a young liberal opponent of the autocratic tsarist regime. Imprisoned several times under tsar Nicholas II, he became in 1917 the personal secretary to Kerensky, the leader of the democratic Provisional Government that was installed after the February Revolution. He was sentenced to death by the Bolsheviks, but ultimately exiled in 1922. He went to the United States, where he became one of the leading sociologists and founded the sociology department of Harvard University. His personal experiences led him to analyze the phenomenon of revolution and its implications for society. In his book Man and Society in Calamity (1946) he distinguished different phases in revolutions.
Theoretically, we can distinguish in any revolution two phases: first, destructive and “liberating,” second, constructive and “restraining.”[21] . . . [In the first phase] all ideologies that attack the oppressing institutions and values from which the revolutionary group suffers gain rapidly in popularity and acceptance.[22] . . . If the revolution is mainly political, the ideologies are primarily political; if the revolution is also economic the ideologies have an economic character; and if the revolution is religious, the ideologies assume a religious nature.[23] . . . However, since economic revolutions are much deeper than political ones, they hardly ever occur without having at the same time their political, religious, or nationalistic aspects. Ordinarily the greatest revolutions become economic.[24]
Sorokin mentioned the Paris Commune and the October Revolution of 1917 as examples of such economic revolutions. It is clear that the Russian Revolution of 1991, that put an end to communism with its planned economy and, after an absence of more than seventy years, reintroduced a market economy, was not a purely political revolution, but equally an economic revolution and consequently as deep and fundamental in impact and scope as the October Revolution of 1917 that it, finally, buried.
But revolutions are dialectical processes. They carry, as a rule, their negation—the counterrevolution—in their womb. After the first period of revolutionary fervor follows a second period in which the pendulum swings in the opposite direction. Sorokin described this process as follows:
Everyone knows the refrain “It was the fault of Rousseau and Voltaire,” sung in the second period of the French Revolution, when the ideologies of the first phase were giving way to those of Chateaubriand, J. de Maistre, de Bonald, and others. The story repeated itself in the Russian revolution [of October 1917]. In the first period bourgeois science, philosophy, Pushkin, Tschaikovsky and other representatives of the “degenerate aristocracy” and the “bourgeoisie” were assailed. Religion, the emperors and the great military generals of the past, the family, marriage, and sexual chastity were likewise attacked. In the second period, the Revolution banned the Marxian texts of history, restored the family, praised sexual chastity, and elevated Pushkin and Tschaikovsky to even higher positions than they had before. It idealized the great Russian Czars, the famous generals, and even the religious leaders of the past. It exalted patriotism, “Our Soviet Fatherland.” . . . Soviet Russia resumed exactly the same foreign policy as that of the Czarist regime.[25]
According to Sorokin, “ideologies of the second stage represent a revival of the living ideologies of the prerevolutionary society in new dress and colors. The revolution itself, when successful, inherently and necessarily consumes its earlier ideologies and resurrects the living prerevolutionary ideologies. This explains why in practically all great revolutions the ideologies of the first phase turned out to be unpopular in the second.”[26] This process may explain why in present-day Russia the capitalist liberalism of Milton Friedman’s “Chicago Boys,” which guided the reforms of the early 1990s, has fallen into disgrace, together with the protagonists of the perestroika period. Not only of its leaders: Gorbachev and Yeltsin, but also of the liberal reform ministers, such as Yegor Gaidar and Andrey Kozyrev, who are now accused of being responsible for the economic breakdown and the loss of empire. Putin is clearly the representative of Russia’s “restoration” after the chaotic transformation years. It was Putin who called the loss of empire “the greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the twentieth century.” Although he does not want to restore communism, he is the man who exalts in the second phase what had been destroyed in the first: a centralized, strong state, a positive assessment of Stalin’s “geopolitical genius,” a leading role for the secret services, and the eternal glory of the Russian empire.
The Use of Nationalist Propaganda
by the Leadership
A second factor that played a role in Russia’s reemerging nationalism and nostalgia for the lost empire is the deliberate use of chauvinist and nationalist propaganda by the leadership. Putin was not only the providential man, welcomed as the leader who would “restore order” in the second cycle of Russia’s anti-communist revolution, he was also a lucky man, because of the huge rise in export prices of oil and gas that coincided with his first two presidencies. It led the Russian population to ascribe its newfound wealth and prosperity not to blind market forces, but to their active president, who, while not deserving their praise, was quite eager to accept it. His popularity helped him spread the nationalist message. Stalin was rehabilitated as the vozhd (leader), the genial brain behind the victory in the Great Patriotic War. His massacres, purges, executions, and genocides were reduced to historical details, necessary to modernize a backward country, or—even better—they were forgotten and banned from public debate. The archives of the KGB, which had been temporarily ope
ned, were closed again. The great autocratic and imperialist tsars, especially Peter the Great, Catherine the Great, Nicholas I, and Alexander III, were rehabilitated and reestablished in their full glory. In September 2000 tsar Nicholas II was canonized and became an official Orthodox saint. This official revival of old imperial pomp and glory coincided with an increasingly aggressive behavior vis-à-vis the former Soviet republics.
The deliberate nationalist propaganda employed by the new power elite of siloviki who—like the nomenklatura in old Soviet days—once again ruled both the state and the economy, served another goal: to create foreign and internal enemies in the good, old Stalinist tradition. The regime needed vragi naroda (enemies of the people) to absorb the aggression that was building up in a society where there exists no independent judiciary, where democratic freedoms have become a farce, political parties are created by the Kremlin, elections are stolen, the police is not considered as a security force but as a threat by the population, and journalists and human rights activists are regularly murdered. Nationalism is a well-known Ventil—a safety valve—for oppressed populations. This policy of the Russian power elite to deliberately foster nationalism and to propagate fear has been analyzed by the Russian sociologist Lilia Shevtsova, who wrote that “the regime is deliberately trying to keep the minds of the public in a schizophrenic state, obstructing the formation of a civic culture and legal mentality. If the demand for a ‘special path’ and an ‘iron hand’ strengthens in Russia, it will not be because of the inability of Russians to live in a democratic and free society, but because they have been deliberately disoriented and trapped by fears, phobias, and insecurity intentionally provoked by the ruling elite.”[27] By propagating nationalism and stirring up xenophobia—not only against foreigners, but also against Russia’s Muslim minorities, who are often indiscriminately depicted as “terrorists,” the leadership is trying to unite the people under what Hayek has called a negative program.
Putin's Wars Page 8