Putin's Wars

by Marcel H. Van Herpen

  The dominant Kremlin party United Russia has treated both the Liberal-Democratic Party and the Communist Party as extremes on a left-right scale with United Russia in the middle. This had the benefit that it attributed to United Russia the role of a “center” party. It was, as so often in Russia, a pure question of labeling. The “liberal-democrats” and the “communists” share essentially the same ultranationalist ideology and form an extreme right bloc in the Duma. The most important difference between the two parties is a difference in style. Zyuganov is a gray party apparatchik who lacks the personal charisma of Zhirinovsky. He is also less outspoken and does not share Zhirinovsky’s more extreme positions concerning a Russian expansion into Turkey, Iran, and Afghanistan.

  “Unkulturaufstieg”: The Spread of

  Ultranationalist Ideas

  In the first decade of the twenty-first century we can observe in Russia the spread of a new culture and the dissemination of new ideas in society. Sociologists usually describe this as a process of Kultursenkung, which means that “high” culture, starting in the elite, “trickles down” from the elite into the general population. However, such a top-down process does not seem to apply in this case. It is not so much elite culture, as rather Unkultur—a lack of (high) culture—that spreads in society. For this reason it is, perhaps, preferable to call this process Unkulturaufstieg: a bottom-up process in which nonculture spreads from the lower echelons of society to reach, ultimately, the elite circles. An interesting historical example of such a process of Unkulturaufstieg (without calling it so) is given by Andreas Umland. It concerns the spread of anti-Semitism in pre–World War I Germany.[10] Umland observed that the development of anti-Semitism in Germany was marked by a fundamental discontinuity.

  At the end of the 19th century and early 20th century, the young German party system experienced a significant change by the descent of its most explicitly antisemitic components.[11] [This was surprising, because] only a few years before, some seemingly vigorous ultra-nationalist parties, founded during the 1870s–1880s, had been on the rise, and, together with the increasingly antisemitic Conservative Party, won a majority in the 1893 Reichstag elections. Also, a multitude of antisemitic literature had been circulating in Germany for more than two decades at this point.[12] [Yet, this did not prevent the fact that] the electoral fortunes of the antisemitic parties, other than the Conservative Party, declined in the first decade of the 20th century.”[13]

  It could be said that this was good news. But was it? Apparently, it was not, because “the decline of the antisemitic parties was . . . not symptomatic of a decline in antisemitism, for these particular parties had already performed their historic role of moving antisemitism from the street and the beer hall’s Stammtisch into the electoral booth and the seat of parliament . . . . The antisemitic parties had rendered themselves moot. They could quietly disappear, leaving the political terrain to more potent successors who were fit for the next upsurge in antisemitic expression and activity.”[14] In fact, what Umland is describing here is a process of Unkulturaufstieg—the spread of uncivilized ideas “from the street and the beer hall’s Stammtisch [table]” to society as a whole—including its higher echelons. Umland also observed an interesting parallel between the situation in Germany in the first decade of the last century and the situation in contemporary Russia. In the second half of the 1990s we could equally observe a generalized rise of illiberal trends and anti-Western opinions in the Russian population. However, at the same time, “those anti-liberal Russian parties that in the middle of the 1990s still had relative success at the elections (for instance the Communist Party or the Liberal-Democratic Party), despite these tendencies, could not improve their attractiveness for the electorate.”[15] Umland rightly concluded that the German experience should be a warning against premature optimism concerning the state of affairs in Russia. As was the case in pre–World War I Germany, the present period in Russia is one in which chauvinist and ultranationalist ideas are permeating society. This process of Unkulturaufstieg is especially visible in the United Russia party, a party that has put so much effort into presenting itself as a moderate “center” party.

  Putin’s “State of the Union”: Touting Patriotism

  In Russia the mixture of racist street hooliganism, the presence of fascist parties in the Duma, and the spread of fascist and ultranationalist ideas by a multitude of groups, websites, and blogs, have led to a generalized climate in which ultranationalist chauvinism has become acceptable. During Putin’s first presidential term the political elite still tried to distance itself from this overzealous ultranationalist fervor. Responsible for ruling the country, United Russia and the leadership presented themselves as democratic, pragmatic, and middle of the road: not left, not right, trying to keep a safe distance from the LDPR and the CPRF, as well as from radical right wing groups. This neutral, pragmatic, technocratic attitude was, first of all, displayed by Putin himself. Marlène Laruelle, for instance, characterized Putin in this period as follows: “[T]he new president cast himself as a-ideological. He claimed to be working solely in accordance with technocratic objectives, necessary to promoting Russia’s stabilization and then revival.”[16] The same assessment was made by two other analysts, who wrote: “On the whole, however, Putin—as a staff employee of state security who had spent his whole adult life working for the KGB under the ideological control of the Communist Party—had no ideology or political program of his own. He confined himself to general populist phrases. Back in 1999, at the beginning of his tenure as prime minister, he had given the following response to a question about his potential platform in the presidential race: ‘My main objective is to improve people’s lives. We will work out a political platform later.’”[17]

  However, was Putin really this a-ideological pragmatist he pretended to be? Another author wrote: “It seemed entirely natural when, asked at a town meeting ‘What do you love most?’ Putin instantly replied: ‘Russia.’”[18] Russia? It might seem strange for a man saying he loved Russia more than his wife and daughters. On another occasion Putin declared that “Patriotism must become the unifying ideology of Russia,” adding that “patriotism will be vital, when we, citizens of Russia, can be proud of our country today.”[19] Meeting with representatives of the youth movement Nashi, Putin said: “We need our civil society, but one that is permeated by patriotism, a concern for our country.”[20] Are statements like these, that Russia needs a civil society “permeated with patriotism,” compatible with the image of the pragmatic technocrat that Putin so carefully cultivates? It is time to have a closer look at Putin’s deeper self.

  A very interesting document in this context is Putin’s programmatic declaration, published on the website of the Council of Ministers on December 29, 1999. At that time Putin still was Yeltsin’s prime minister. The timing was important: two days later Yeltsin would appoint him to be his successor as acting president of the Russian Federation. At the time of publication the declaration had the status of a prime ministerial document presenting the government’s program for the coming year. As such it would have been no more than a swan song. Yeltsin’s prime ministers were, as a rule, short-lived. Even if Putin could have stayed on to the end, his career as prime minister would have ended anyway a few months later when the presidential election took place. Putin’s appointment as acting president on December 31, 1999, changed everything fundamentally. The program he had presented was no longer the program of an ephemeral government shortly before being dismissed. Suddenly it became the State of the Union of the young, new president of the Russian Federation. Maybe it was even more: the solemn declaration with which a new tsar accepts the throne of the empire. A comparison that is not as far-fetched as it might seem at first glance, because—as in the case of a royal heir—the throne was literally offered to Putin.

  The title of Putin’s programmatic declaration, “Russia on the Verge of the Millennium” (Rossiya na rubezhe tysyacheletii), was up to the challenge.[21] This text must b
e considered as one of the most elaborated pieces of the Putin ideology. Although Putin might wish to be seen as a cool, analytical pragmatist, for whom “ideology” smacked of old-fashioned prejudice, his declaration deserves a closer look. After having described Russia’s economic woes, Putin wrote, under the heading “Lessons for Russia,” “the problem is not only economic. This problem is also political and, I am not afraid of this word, in a certain sense, ideological. To be more precise: ideal, spiritual, moral.”[22] He then went on to develop, what he called, his “Russian Idea.” The core of this “Russian Idea” was consensus. “The fruitful creative work that our Fatherland [tellingly, Putin wrote fatherland with a capital F] needs so much, is not possible in a society that is permanently divided and internally isolated.”[23] Putin denied that he wanted to return to the period after the October Revolution when consensus was created by “strong-arm methods.” He emphasized that “any consensus in our society can only be voluntary.” This consensus was vital, “because one of the main reasons behind our reforms proceeding so slowly and with difficulty, consists namely of the lack of civil consensus.”[24] However, he continued, “I am against the reintroduction in Russia of an official state ideology in any form.”[25]

  Putin’s “Russian Idea”: State, State, and More State

  So, what should be done? Putin came up with three ingredients for the “Russian Idea” that were expected to promote this consensus: patriotism, “great power” status (derzhavnost), and a strong state (gosudarstvennichestvo). Regarding patriotism, he went on to explain,

  [T]his is the feeling of pride in one’s Fatherland, its history and great events. It is the endeavour to make one’s country more beautiful, richer, more powerful, happier. If these feelings are free from national megalomania and imperial ambitions, there is nothing blameworthy, conservative, in them. It is the basis of the courage, the perseverance, the power of the people. If we have lost patriotism, and the national pride and dignity that go with it, we lose ourselves as a people capable of great events.[26]

  Although Putin paid lip service to democratic freedoms, he stated that the “universal principles of the market economy and democracy” should be “organically integrated with the realities of Russia,” because “every country, Russia included, is obliged to seek its own way of modernization.” To adapt the universal principles of democracy to “the realities of Russia” meant that Putin advocated a Russian Sonderweg, a “special course,” implying that these universal principles are in fact not universal, but in need to be adapted to the Russian situation. This, in essence, introduces the theory of “sovereign democracy” that some years later would be developed by Putin’s spin doctor Vladislav Surkov. This theory, therefore, was, perhaps, not so original: Surkov was only acting as his master’s voice.

  Putin’s “Russian Idea” can be summarized as follows: state power, the aggrandizement of state power, and pride of the citizens in this accumulating state power. The three pillars are: great power status for the state externally (derzhavnost), a strong state internally (gosudarstvennichestvo), and patriotism: the pride of the citizen in this external and internal state power. On the first element, Russia’s great power status, a commentator wrote: “The undemocratic and even authoritarian nature of derzhavnost is self-evident. Foreign and security policy implication of this ideology has been so far the assertion of Russia’s national interests which in many fields are considered to be conflicting with those of the West.”[27] On the necessity of a strong state internally, Putin wrote:

  Russia will not soon, if ever, become a second edition of, let us say, the U.S.A. or England, where liberal values have a long historical tradition. In our country the government, its institutions and structures, have always played an exclusively important role in the life of the country, the people. A strong government is for the Russian citizens not an anomaly, but, on the contrary, the source and the guarantee of order, the initiator and main force of any change.[28]

  Putin’s ideology, therefore, begins with the state and ends with the state. The ultimate goal of every Russian citizen should be the aggrandizement of state power and not the aggrandizement of his or her personal freedom and well-being. Putin’s words remind us of the words of Nobel Prize Laureate for Literature John Steinbeck, who, after a visit to the Soviet Union, wrote:

  It seems to us that one of the deepest divisions between the Russians and the Americans or British, is in their feeling toward their governments. The Russians are taught, and trained, and encouraged to believe that their government is good, that every part of it is good, and that their job is to carry it forward, to back it up in all ways. On the other hand, the deep emotional feeling among Americans and British is that all government is somehow dangerous, that there should be as little government as possible, that any increase in the power of government is bad, and that existing government must be watched constantly, watched and criticized to keep it sharp and on its toes.[29]

  National Rebirth and Consensus Building

  It is telling that Putin defined patriotism as the “endeavor to make one’s country more beautiful, richer, more powerful, happier”—as if happiness can be attributed to a country instead of being the exclusive domain of the human individuals who inhabit it. It is a clear indication of the personification of the state by Putin, for whom the state is the ultimate value, an object of worship and veneration. By paying lip service to democracy he conceals the fact that his ideal of a strong state inevitably clashes with the democratic freedoms of the citizens. He expects Russian citizens not to hamper the expansion of state power by political dissension (e.g., by voting for political parties that propose an alternative to Putin’s program). Instead they should remain unified and stand—as one bloc—behind the leader whose supreme task it is to enhance the power of the state, which is the incarnation of the mythical Fatherland (with a capital F). Therefore Putin continuously stresses the necessity of consensus building.

  How important consensus and patriotism are for him is further clarified in the address read by him six months later on the occasion of the combined session of the Duma and the Federation Council.[30] In this text he stressed again “that the growth of society is unthinkable without consensus on common goals. And these goals are not only material. No less important are spiritual and moral goals. It is the patriotism, which is characteristic for our people, the cultural traditions, common historical memory, which strengthen the unity of Russia.”[31] In Putin’s exaltation of a strong state and in his emphasis on national consensus building we find a striking resemblance with Mussolini’s Italy. Like Putin, Mussolini wanted to overcome the internal divisions in the population and to build a national consensus around himself, Il Duce, who was the incarnation of a unified people. Only in this way did he think he would be able to build a strong, militarized, and centralized Italian state. It led in Italy to the suppression of political parties, the abolition of the free press, the persecution of political adversaries, and the introduction of a one-party state.

  Apart from this emphasis on consensus building and the exaltation of state power, there is, furthermore, a third ingredient in Putin’s text that reminds one of Mussolini’s Italy. Two days before his appointment to acting president, Putin said: “Today we find the key for a rebirth and resurrection of Russia in the sphere of government and politics. Russia needs a strong and powerful government and must have this.”[32] In his address six months later, he spoke of “a new Russia” and “the beginning of a new spiritual elevation.”[33] Here we clearly recognize the palingenetic ingredient of a theory of national rebirth, which, according to Roger Griffin, is a fundamental element of fascist ideologies.[34] Curiously enough one can observe a parallel between the positions not only of Putin and Mussolini, but also of Putin and Stalin. According to Aleksandr Yeliseev, “It must be said that neither socialism, nor even the state were in themselves values for him [Stalin]. The leader of the USSR considered them instruments necessary to guarantee what was most important—national indepen
dence. . . . Socialism, in Stalin’s thinking, had to overcome the class divisions inside the nation and make her monolithic and unified in face of all possible foreign challenges.”[35] It is easy to recognize here Putin’s derzhavnost (great power status) and his stress on internal consensus. In the concept of “sovereign democracy” we find the same emphasis on national independence.

  United Russia’s Electoral Success: A CPSU Effect?

  In 2004 United Russia, the “Presidential Party,” had only one task: to reassure the reelection of Putin as president. Although it was the Presidential Party, Putin was not a member. It was a huge bureaucratic apparatus in the service of the president. The party soon became a victim of its own success. After Putin’s reelection in 2004 there was a great influx of new members—especially from amongst bureaucrats, civil servants, and regional leaders, who rallied to “the party of power”—just as they had done before, in Soviet times, when they adhered to the CPSU (though at that time the CPSU was the only choice). This “CPSU effect” had three consequences: