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MOSCOW, 19 May 1999—
It may seem peaceful and far removed from the burnt out buildings of
Belgrade, but in many ways the most explosive aspect of the Kosovo
conflict is taking place on the streets of Moscow.
You
get little idea of the underlying tension by walking round the Russian
capital. Even the American embassy— the most obvious
objective for aggression—
bears few scars apart from the odd histrionically smashed
window and a few splotches from ink bottles thrown at its yellow
walls.
There are a few dozen protestors on the far side of
the street, kept away from their target by a tight cordon of security
after a lunatic tried to launch a grenade at the embassy—
in a move
which largely risked harming fellow demonstrators. Meanwhile, a
significant number of Russians continues to queue for U.S. visas.
But
there is an underlying sentiment of anger and frustration which may
translate into a form of new Cold Peace that lingers long after the
Yugoslavia crisis comes to an end. And for the first time, it is not
just touching the minority of ageing Communist romantics who have lost
so much in the reforms of the past few years. It is also beginning to
radicalise the younger generation who came of age in the post-Soviet
period with no illusions about or desires to return to the past.
There is plenty
that is disingenuous in the Russian hostility to the war—
but plenty that rings at least partially true as well. There is little
doubt that while media censorship no longer exists, most broadcasters
and editors have steered a strongly pro-Serb line. They concentrate
far more on the effects of NATO's attacks than eyewitness reports of
ethnic cleansing from refugees on Kosovo's borders.
But some Russian
journalists—notably on the privately-owned NTV
station—
have shown alternative views. And the lengthy live briefings of
official spokesmen broadcast without the slightest editorialising or
analysis from NATO headquarters or the Pentagon by CNN and the BBC are
hardly any more objective either. Particularly given a number of
well-document errors already propagated and eventually retracted by
the Western side.
President Yeltsin's bloody bombardments of
Chechnya show that while the Russians criticise NATO's strategy today,
they were perfectly prepared to use violence themselves in very recent
memory. Their battle left huge Russian as well as Chechnian
casualties, and the mountainous breakaway republic remains as
troublesome and lawless as ever.
But there is also
some truth in the fact that the disastrous outcome of the Chechnian
conflict has taught Russia a lesson in how not to approach contemporary
warfare—
a
lesson which may have some relevance to Serbia. Yeltsin's own
popularity ratings plummeted to single digits in the aftermath and
have remained there ever since. That, at least, is one warning to the
strategists of NATO.
The Soviet system's disregard for human
rights and the often maverick and partisan performance of the
contemporary court system sits awkwardly with Russian indignation over
the West's cavalier approach to international law in attacking a
sovereign state.
On the
other hand, there is little doubt that the West did ride roughshod over
the normal diplomatic routes—notably the United Nations—
in the face of clear signs that it would
not get its own way in the Security Council with vetoes threatened
from both China and Russia.
There is certainly little
historical justification behind the idea of pan-slavic brotherhood and
solidarity as trumpeted by some Russian commentators. Born out of
nineteenth-century intellectual romanticism, the Serbs and Russians
had occasional pragmatic alliances, matched by far longer periods of
disregard or hostility. Stalin began plotting the assassination of
Tito just after the second world war, and relations have long been
difficult between the two nations.
Support in Russia for
Kosovo's Muslims as well as Orthodox Serbs.
Andwith 15
million or more Muslims in Russia today, any suggestion that Russians
are united with the Serbs by the Orthodox church rings hollow. The
semi-autonomous republic of Tatarstan is among those which has warned
against any unequivocal support for the Christian Serbs, and acted as
a reminder that there is also Russian support for Kosovo's persecuted
Muslims.
But there is a sense that if NATO can launch
military actions in an attempt to stop activities within a third-party
country which do not directly affect or threaten any of its own member
states, then what is to stop the institution in the future taking
similar action against Russia? If Russia launched another Chechnian
war, for example, would Moscow be threatened by enemy bombs?
More
generally, there is a perception that while Mikhail Gorbachev
dismantled the old Eastern Bloc military complex, the West has not met
its side of the bargain by reciprocating. It has instead maintained
and reinforced NATO by adding Russia's former captive states in
Eastern Europe into its fold and edging towards its own borders.
In
many ways, the West side-lined Russia in the build-up to the Yugoslav
bombardments, playing on the fact that it is of small and decreasing
importance on the world stage, with its economy having shrunk to a
rump of the power-house boasted of in official Soviet statistics in
the past. The West calculated that the very need for financial
assistance from international organisations means that Russia dare not
stand out too far.
This may have proved an important
miscalculation. For even aside from the dreaded "too nuclear to
fail" argument, and the economic potential of what remains the
world's geographically largest nation, Russia remains of huge
geostrategic importance, spanning Europe and Asia. And its diplomatic
success in acting as an intermediary and reintroducing itself into the
centre of the talks has shown it still has a significant role to play
as a necessary counterbalance to the West. President Yeltsin's
impulsive sacking of his latest government also shows how
unpredictable he is and how willing to risk upsetting conventional
order.
Can Russia maintain its moderate line?
In
domestic political terms, the now ousted government of Yevgeni
Primakov managed the ugly crisis with which they were presented rather
successfully. While being forced to contribute to anti-Western and
anti-NATO rhetoric to appease more extremist national sentiment, it
safeguarded foreign embassies and apparently stood back from any
direct contribution to the Serb regime. Even if it is difficult to
believe that there was not some quid pro quo for the delivery of the
crashed U.S. stealth bomber by Milosevic to Moscow.
The Russian
government also demonstrated considerable sleight of hand in distancing
itself from the failure of the Rambouilllet talks, at which its diplomats
were present alongside those of the West—
and always
with the ultimate threat of military action if Milosevic refused to
cooperate.
Even if the new government
maintains a moderate stance, the longer the conflict is prolonged, the
more difficult it will be to balance inaction against more radical—albeit minority—
domestic voices. There are a few outspoken characters such as the
extreme nationalist Vladimir Zhirinovksy, who pops up on television
dressed in battle fatigues to exploit the situation to the full. He is
coordinating a recruitment centre for volunteers to go to Serbia's
help, although precisely what help they would prove remains to be
seen. Mr. Zhirinovksy has strangely so far resisted flying to Belgrade
himself to help out on the frontline, wherever that may be.
While his party and the
communists—who hold the balance of
power in the Russian parliament—
may criticise the war, it is providing them with
huge popular support. Support that they are likely to be able to
capitalise on in the general elections scheduled for December, with a
further intensifying of the so-called "red-brown" mix which
draws frightening parallels with the Weimar regime of pre-second world
war Germany.
They are tapping into a broader sense of frustration
with post-Soviet reforms of every sort—
from price
liberalisation and privatisation to democracy. Reforms which have
become closely associated for a high proportion of Russians as being
Western, and as having collapsed into a morass of economic depression,
poverty and corruption. With new World Bank estimates suggesting that
up to 20 per cent of the Russian population will be in extreme poverty
by next year, it is not surprising that people are angry, frustrated
and desperate. All of which provide fertile ground for scape-goats and
nationalist sentiment.
So far, Western Europe has been lucky.
Anger at the bombardments has been focused essentially on the
Americans. Not a bad sleight of hand, given that Europe was just as
keen on action in Yugoslavia, but has always failed to get its own
common defence force together. It has thus been delighted at the
American willingness to intervene, and has seen its wishes implemented
without having to take the brunt of consequences in hostility from
Russia. Up till now.
Andrew
Jack is the Moscow correspondent for the Financial Times and a member
of the editorial board of Culturekiosque.com |
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