by Masha Lipman
What is happening in the Crimean peninsula is not a war, exactly—or
not if bloodshed is the standard for war. It is an ominous, creeping
occupation (for now) of a region of sovereign Ukraine by the Russian
armed forces at the order of the Kremlin. So far there have been no
casualties, almost no shooting. In the predominantly pro-Russian Crimea,
the Russian servicemen are generally welcomed by the local inhabitants.
As Russian troops encircle and block Ukrainian military units in
Crimea, the Ukrainian government in Kiev, the capital, is preparing for
resistance. What will come next—full-blown war, negotiations, or a
prolonged standoff—is anyone’s guess.
The one moment of promising news Sunday came when Russian President Vladimir Putin told German Chancellor Angela Merkel that he would accept her proposal
to establish an international fact-finding “contact group” to discuss
the crisis in Ukraine. Putin, in his conversation with Merkel, however,
insisted that his actions were justified by an “unrelenting threat of
violence” to Russian-speaking people in Ukraine. Merkel, for her part,
called the invasion a contravention of international law.
And yet an occupier, like Putin, who is utterly
confident of his military superiority does not really need a cogent
justification for his intervention. The decision to bring troops to
Ukraine was not preceded by any formal government report. The unanimous
vote Saturday in the Federation Council, the upper house of the Russian
parliament, was based on a brief statement by the chamber’s speaker that
there had been “casualties” in the Crimea during the night of March 1.
The speaker cited no source for this information and did not mention the
number of casualties. In fact, as it turned out, there had been no casualties
at all. No matter. The Russian lawmakers did not ask a single question
from the high-ranking defense and foreign-policy officials who were
assembled in the chamber. They just proceeded to vote to satisfy Putin’s
request to invade.
There was no attempt to talk to the feuding forces or even to
identify them in more than very general terms; there was no attempt to
bring them to negotiations or mediate the conflict, such as it is. Nor
was there even a hint of the role the United Nations should play,
although in numerous earlier international crises it has been Putin who
has insisted, in the name of peace and law, that the U.N. play the role
of mediator.
Putin is not interested in mustering a “coalition of the willing.” He
relies utterly on his own understanding of the global order. He no
longer deems it necessary to offer the West a cogent justification for
his actions. The West is no longer seen as a “partner,” the word Putin
commonly used in the past. The West has become an unequivocal enemy.
It is no exaggeration to say that tensions between Russia and the
West over Ukraine evoke the prolonged division that defined the Cold
War. The geopolitical struggles over Iran, Syria, Georgia, and, now,
Ukraine do not rise to the apocalyptic potential of the Cuban missile
crisis, but the stakes are enormous. One major difference between then
and now is the absence of ideological antagonism: the postwar Soviet
empire proclaimed the advantage of the socialist path over the
capitalist one. Today, Russia’s opposition to the West has evolved as a
purely nationalist project. Russia’s military response to the events in
Ukraine is framed as a protection of “ours”—and “ours” are Russian, no
matter where they live. The idea of Ukrainian sovereignty is totally
disregarded.
This is Putin’s response to Ukraine’s attempt to build a new
nationhood that combines a leaning toward the Western world with the
nationalism of Ukraine’s own west; both wests are regarded by Putin as
utterly hostile to Russian interests. In the words of Dmitry Trenin, an
expert on Russian foreign policy, the fear in Moscow
is that “the new official Ukrainian narrative would change from the
post-Soviet ‘Ukraine is not Russia’ to something like ‘Ukraine in
opposition to Russia.’ ”
The anti-Western nationalist trend has been on the rise in Russia for
nearly a decade; it has become an engine of aggressive and expansionist
action. This presages some powerful shifts at home, particularly a
division of the Russian citizens into friends and foes, and a shift
toward a more dictatorial, police-state mode of dealing with dissenting
opinion. Today, more than a thousand Muscovites dared to protest against
the Russian military intervention in Ukraine, chanting, “No to war.”
Police detained more than three hundred people. The feelings among the
liberal minority in Russia are of anguish, fear, anger, and shame. But
the liberals are powerless to stop the invasion taking shape in Crimea.
Boris Akunin, a famous novelist and a member of the liberal community
in Moscow, warned today that the conflict with Ukraine may be a pretext
for a wider crackdown. Writing on his Facebook page, Akunin counselled
against public demonstrations “until hundreds of thousands are ready to
take to the streets.”
“And now for the main rule,” Akunin wrote. “Let’s be brave. Hard times are coming and we must not lose ourselves.”
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