By intervening in the Bosnian war without telling America in advance, Russia had already signaled that it, too, would pursue its own policies. And on the day before the announcement of Lysenko’s expulsion, Yeltsin had bluntly declared that Russia had its own national interests to protect-including the welfare of Russian-speakers in other countries-and that he intended to protect them. “We understand that sometimes our interests are not the same as those in the West,” said Sergei Karaganov of Moscow’s Institute of Europe.
This is how diplomats who remember the cold war expect great nations to behave. They are meant to cooperate with each other only when it is in their interests to do so; to advance the cause of their allies, and even to spy on each other. On occasion, they are expected to make great noises of outrage for the benefit of domestic audiences. Clinton acts tough by expelling a diplomat; Russians huffily brand the whole spy case a “propaganda counteroffensive.”
Yet familiar though the very language may be to those who lived through the cold war, there is a difference; or at least Americans think there is. With the collapse of communism, Russia and America no longer represent ideological polar opposites; American officials cannot plausibly claim-as they used to-that Russia threatens our very way of life. Hence at the same time that they were getting tough on the spy case, American officials were making approving noises about Yeltsin’s speech. One official said that Yeltsin merely signaled that Russia “expects to be a member of the community of great powers … There is nothing to suggest this is a hostile, confrontational leader out to take on the West.”
But something doesn’t ring true here. If Russia is no longer a threat to America’s way of life; if it is just another member of the community of great powers-a bit like Germany, but colder-why do we spend so much time worrying about it? Is it because Russia is likely to be a raving economic success in whose bounty America is keen to share? Because of all those minerals lying trapped under the tundra? That entrepreneurial dynamism beating in the heart of the meanest babushka? Not exactly; a senior administration official concedes that “Russia won’t be an economic powerhouse in the next century.” If spotting future economic giants drives American foreign policy, Clinton might by now have appointed an ambassador to India.
The truth, naturally, is that however much well-meaning Americans may want to welcome Russia into the “community of great powers.” Russia matters for only one reason. As far as prescience allows us to tell. it has a unique ability to cause trouble. China and India, says a senior official, “don’t have 30,000 nukes. . . . Russia has too much of a history of being a major global power to be ignored.” Indeed, in a Moscow where everyone from confused teenagers to liberal intellectuals are tired of being considered the Sick Man of the World, there is a new mood of arrogant delight in tweaking the West’s nose. “Russia has behaved with more certainty on the international scene lately”, boasts Aleksandr Vasilyev in Komsomolskaya Pravda.
So far, and understandably, American officials do not want to publicly admit that Russia’s power and potential for troublemaking must shape America’s policy. Strobe Talbott, the new deputy secretary of state, is among those who think that nations aren’t leopards; as modern Germany has proved, they can change their spots. For Talbott, U.S. policy toward Russia should be driven by wary optimism; nothing enrages him more than those who equate his view with naive romanticism. In line with such thinking, Clinton argued last week for continued American assistance for Russian economic reform and officials promised that the expulsion of Lysenko was not a “cold war tit-for-tat.”
Is Talbott’s wary optimism justified? Those who think so argue that Russia is now in a uniquely weak position; if you are going to make a modest bet on its future good nature, now is the time. But the Ames case has made optimism much harder to sell in Congress. And pessimists remember that Russia was an expansionist power long before the cold war started. One look at Russia’s recent foreign policy might convince real grown-ups that it will be just as troublesome long after the cold war’s end.
title: “Why Russia Continues To Torment America” ShowToc: true date: “2023-01-02” author: “Scott Faupel”
By intervening in the Bosnian war without telling America in advance, Russia had already signaled that it, too, would pursue its own policies. And on the day before the announcement of Lysenko’s expulsion, Yeltsin had bluntly declared that Russia had its own national interests to protect-including the welfare of Russian-speakers in other countries-and that he intended to protect them. “We understand that sometimes our interests are not the same as those in the West,” said Sergei Karaganov of Moscow’s Institute of Europe.
This is how diplomats who remember the cold war expect great nations to behave. They are meant to cooperate with each other only when it is in their interests to do so; to advance the cause of their allies, and even to spy on each other. On occasion, they are expected to make great noises of outrage for the benefit of domestic audiences. Clinton acts tough by expelling a diplomat; Russians huffily brand the whole spy case a “propaganda counteroffensive.”
Yet familiar though the very language may be to those who lived through the cold war, there is a difference; or at least Americans think there is. With the collapse of communism, Russia and America no longer represent ideological polar opposites; American officials cannot plausibly claim-as they used to-that Russia threatens our very way of life. Hence at the same time that they were getting tough on the spy case, American officials were making approving noises about Yeltsin’s speech. One official said that Yeltsin merely signaled that Russia “expects to be a member of the community of great powers … There is nothing to suggest this is a hostile, confrontational leader out to take on the West.”
But something doesn’t ring true here. If Russia is no longer a threat to America’s way of life; if it is just another member of the community of great powers-a bit like Germany, but colder-why do we spend so much time worrying about it? Is it because Russia is likely to be a raving economic success in whose bounty America is keen to share? Because of all those minerals lying trapped under the tundra? That entrepreneurial dynamism beating in the heart of the meanest babushka? Not exactly; a senior administration official concedes that “Russia won’t be an economic powerhouse in the next century.” If spotting future economic giants drives American foreign policy, Clinton might by now have appointed an ambassador to India.
The truth, naturally, is that however much well-meaning Americans may want to welcome Russia into the “community of great powers.” Russia matters for only one reason. As far as prescience allows us to tell. it has a unique ability to cause trouble. China and India, says a senior official, “don’t have 30,000 nukes. . . . Russia has too much of a history of being a major global power to be ignored.” Indeed, in a Moscow where everyone from confused teenagers to liberal intellectuals are tired of being considered the Sick Man of the World, there is a new mood of arrogant delight in tweaking the West’s nose. “Russia has behaved with more certainty on the international scene lately”, boasts Aleksandr Vasilyev in Komsomolskaya Pravda.
So far, and understandably, American officials do not want to publicly admit that Russia’s power and potential for troublemaking must shape America’s policy. Strobe Talbott, the new deputy secretary of state, is among those who think that nations aren’t leopards; as modern Germany has proved, they can change their spots. For Talbott, U.S. policy toward Russia should be driven by wary optimism; nothing enrages him more than those who equate his view with naive romanticism. In line with such thinking, Clinton argued last week for continued American assistance for Russian economic reform and officials promised that the expulsion of Lysenko was not a “cold war tit-for-tat.”
Is Talbott’s wary optimism justified? Those who think so argue that Russia is now in a uniquely weak position; if you are going to make a modest bet on its future good nature, now is the time. But the Ames case has made optimism much harder to sell in Congress. And pessimists remember that Russia was an expansionist power long before the cold war started. One look at Russia’s recent foreign policy might convince real grown-ups that it will be just as troublesome long after the cold war’s end.
