By Prof. Andrei P. Tsygankov, E-International Relations, 3/9/24

Andrei P. Tsygankov is Professor of International Relations at San Francisco State University. His is the author of (among other works) Russia’s Foreign Policy (Rowman and Littlefield 2022, 6th ed.), Russian Realism: Defending ‘Derzhava’ in International Relations (Routledge 2022) and The “Russian Idea” in International Relations Civilization and National Distinctiveness (Routledge 2023). He teaches Russian/post-Soviet relations, comparative foreign policy, and IR theory. He is a graduate of Moscow State University (Candidate of Sciences, 1991) and the University of Southern California (Ph.D., 2000).

Since the 16th century, many Russians associated change with the rising and increasingly global civilization of the West. At the same time, they have sought to build upon Russia’s own identity and power. The common dilemma of how to borrow from the advanced West while remaining ‘Russia’ has been at the center of Russian political debates for centuries. In the 19th century, the dynamic group of Russian thinkers with Western leanings, known as Westernizers, proposed to resolve this dilemma. They aspired to do so with Russia in their heart, yet primarily on Western ideological and value terms. Russian Westernizers then and now include those viewing Russia’s values as inferior to the West and advocating the country’s integration with Western institutions. While differing in definitions of the West, Westernizers invariably support Russia-Western partnership based on shared values. They tend to view history in progressive terms and believe in a linear, rather than pluralistic, interpretation of human development. Because of their association with the mighty Western civilization, Russian Westernizers have a considerable influence at home whenever the Russian state decides to improve relations with the West.

In my forthcoming book on Russian Westernizers, I identify four broad schools of Russian Westernizers with radical and conservative leanings. I also analyze conditions of their relative influence and marginalization. Finally, I discuss contemporary challenges for Westernizers and the prospects of their development.

Russian Westernizers

Intellectually, Westernizers fall into four distinct groups – Christian Westernizers, economic liberals, political liberals or advocates of the Western-style political system of individual rights, and supporters of the social state. To a considerable degree, their differences are defined by varying images of the West. Christian Westernizers stress the unity of Russia and the West’s religious roots and argue for restoring such harmony. From their perspective, the historical split between Catholicism and Orthodox Christianity should not stand in the way of such unity.

The second group of Westernizers includes admirers of the West’s dynamism in economic development, commercial and technological successes, and financial institutions. Russian economic liberals tend to associate the achievements of Western civilization with the institutions of private property and free market competition rather than geography, scientific discoveries, or any other advantages. This group rose to prominence in the second half of the 19th century when Russia embarked on the path of capitalist development. The views of Russian economic liberals reflected the country’s growing trade ties with European nations. Russia successfully exported grains to Britain and France, while the British-French capital was increasingly present on the Russian exchange market.

The third group favored the development of political freedoms and constitutional legitimacy in Russia. The group became active in the first half of the 19th century under the influence of the Western nations’ transition from absolutist rule to popular sovereignty and defense of individual rights.

Finally, in the second half of the 19th century, Russia followed the West in becoming increasingly industrialized. As a result, Russian Westernizers grew critical of the state’s lack of attention to the economic and social rights of the lower classes. Many Russian Westernizers became socialist, rather than liberal, in their orientation. Even those who were not socially radical became sensitive to what the Russian religious philosopher Vladimir Solovyev defined as “the right to a decent human existence” (dostoinoye suchshestvovaniye).

In addition to different definitions of Western values, Russian Westernizers diverge in perceiving Russia’s goals and methods of their achievement. While viewing integration with the West as the ultimate objective, they disagree on how far Russia should go to accomplish the objective. Radical Westernizers assess the country’s rapid integration with the West as the most practical and perhaps the only way to bring Russia in line with the West. In the view of conservative or moderate Westernizers, the transition toward the West must be based on sufficiently broad support inside the country rather than imposed from the above. For these reasons, Russia’s overall objective cannot be a complete integration with the West but rather a strategic partnership with Western nations based on broadly shared values.

The difference between radical and moderate Westernizers was on display during Russia’s late Soviet and post-Soviet transformation. While radicals supported Boris Yeltsin’s policies of rapid Westernization, moderates or conservatives cautioned against doing so at the expense of established social values and national interests. Radical and moderate trends competed within the pro-Yeltsin party, Democratic Russia. Another liberal party, Yabloko, advocated a gradual transition and development of foreign relations with both Western and non-Western countries. Yabloko-affiliated intellectuals supported pro-Western reforms at home while insisting on Russia’s special interests in protecting national security interests in Eurasia, Europe, Asia, and the Middle East.

Conditions of Rise and Fall

Both Russia and the West are responsible for the success and failure of Russia’s Westernization. The first condition is the West’s relative openness to and demonstration of recognition of Russia. Such recognition can come in different forms. It can include rhetorical support for Russian reforms and reformers. It can also include financial assistance and the development of joint projects in political, economic, and cultural areas. Russian Westernizers depend on such recognition by the West in rallying domestic support for reforms. They are not likely to be successful if, instead of recognition, the West criticizes Russia’s actions or policies that aim to isolate Russia from international and Western markets.

The second critical condition of Russia’s Westernization is the relative openness of Russian society and its political leaders. Russia’s cultural differences have often prevented its leaders from implementing pro-Western reforms. However, other leaders have done so, sometimes taking personal risks to introduce reforms and having to resign because of their commitment to Westernizing Russia.

For the success of the Russia-West rapprochement, both sides must be sufficiently open to initiate and sustain it. This is difficult because the two sides are culturally different and have historically disagreed on various issues. At times, their disagreements were even constitutive of their national self-definition: Russia’s values were defined in terms of their difference from and superiority to those of the West, and vice-versa. In addition to cultural differences, the contemporary interests of Russia and Western nations diverge. The two sides cannot forge a partnership because they have different geopolitical priorities and stakes in the international system.

Challenges and Prospects

Therefore, Russian Westernizers could only be successful if they had sufficient support at home and in the West. Both conditions are missing in today’s Russia. Russia’s war in Ukraine and confrontation with Western nations have encouraged the rallying around the flag effect rather than liberal reforms at home. Western leaders did not hide their goals to degrade Russia’s power, rather than merely support Ukraine’s territorial integrity. They did little to facilitate negotiations and cease-fire. Furthermore, plagued by domestic instability and polarization, the West has also relied on presenting others, including Russia, as threatening its values. As a result, Russian Westernizers have remained weakened and marginalized.

Today, when the West’s global standing is declining relative to those of rising non-Western powers, the ability of Russian Westernizers to influence national discussions will still be more limited. The global transition from the West-centered world to a pluralist international system will make the demand for defining and developing national values and interests all the more pressing. In the best scenario, this predicament may prompt Russian Westernizers to move away from their radicalism, becoming more sensitive to national realities and more critical of the West’s international priorities.

In terms of IR theory, this suggests the need for Westernizers to learn from other intellectual traditions in Russia. Today, pro-Western policies and theories are even less able to serve as a guide to Russia than they have in the past. The post-conflict Russia is unlikely to become a pro-Western Russia. Advocating for improving relations with Europe and the United States following the end of the war in Ukraine may have an appeal in Russia if such relations enhance, not undermine, Russia’s national interests. In the post-Western world, the country’s main priorities include the survival and the reframing of historically built national values, political sovereignty, and strengthening relations with the global South.

Excellent interview from start to finish.

YouTube link here.

By Gordon Hahn, Russian and Eurasian Politics, 4/2/24

Despite Western media reports over recent months and weeks regarding supposed secret talks between Westerners and Russians to settle or at least stop the NATO-Russia Ukrainian War, there are no such talks ongoing. But this does not mean that they cannot emerge.

First we heard of supposedly secret talks between Ukrainian Armed Forces General Staff Chief Gen. Valeriy Zaluzhniy and Russian General Staff Chief Gen. Valerii Gerasimov. Then there were Russian President Vladimir Putin’s alleged ‘signals’ indicating that he seeks negotiations. In reality, there are no peace talks underway between Russia, on the one hand, and the West and/or Ukraine, on the other hand. There are no signals that Putin is seeking negotiations. Although he is willing to hold talks, he expects that any negotiations be requested first by the West and/or Ukrainian President Volodomyr Zelenskiy. The New York Times piece about ‘Putin’s signals’ published just before Christmas was nothing more than another attempt to portray Russia and Putin as ‘losing the war’ and desperate for an exit ramp, and it was nothing less than a contribution in support of US President Joseph Biden’s desperate re-election prospects as the American presidential campaign is about to kickoff.

Nothing could be further from the truth than the tale of Russian desperation told since the war began. This is most evident now for anyone following the recent course of events on the front; a front that is collapsing on the Ukrainian side. In Zelenskiy’s eternal PR mode, the Ukrainian front’s collapse will be framed as an orderly retreat to new defense lines and part of a new defensive strategy replacing the offensive one that so ignominiously failed with this summer’s predictably disastrous counteroffensive. Nevertheless, the hard, cold realities of the summer campaign’s defeat following the fall of the strategic hub of Bakhmut (Artyomevsk) and preceding the fall of the heavily fortified town of Avdiivka (Avdeevka) are trumping Zelenskiy’s simulated reality productions both in the West and Ukraine ever so gradually. 

As Russian forces slowly but but surely advance westward across the entire front ranging from Zaporozhe (and perhaps soon Kherson) to Kharkov — an advance that is likely to accelerate in spring and summer, the Kremlin has no burning need to negotiate. To be sure, Moscow would prefer ending the war, but on its own terms. The longer Washington, Brussels, and Kiev refuse negotiations, the more fluid the situation becomes and the less likely Moscow will be easy to negotiate with before its forces reach the Dnieper River. Some Russian officials are trumpeting a hard line. For example, a month ago Russian ambassador to the UN Dmitri Polyanskiy said that Kiev’s chance for talks had passed and now only capitulation talks are possible (https://t.me/RusskajaIdea/5265 and https://t.me/Slavyangrad/79622).

But Putin appears open to talks. However, he certainly is not desperate for them and may prefer holding off until more Ukrainian military force and territory is attritted. He has indicated numerous times since the war began that he is open to talks. In a speech to the Defense Ministry Collegium last December, Putin summed up the course of the war in 2023 by saying: “This is what everyone should understand: in Ukraine, those in Europe and the USA who are aggressive towards Russia in Ukraine, if they want to negotiate, let them negotiate. But we will do this based only on our interests” (http://www.kremlin.ru/events/president/news/73035). He repeated this for Americans in his interview with Tucker Carlson and for Russians in his most recent interview with Dmitrii Kisilev.

The lack of talks is best explained by the West’s and Ukraine’s unwillingness to negotiate. In fact, since December 2022 Ukrainian law forbids Ukrainians from conducting peace talks with Putin’s Russia. The U.S. has apparently held to its proclaimed policy of ‘no talks about Ukraine without Ukraine’ at least in terms of any peace negotiations, though the US’s CIA chief, William Burns, and his Russian counterpart, SVR chief Sergei Narynskii met a few months back for discussions on undisclosed issues. Therefore, Zelenskiy consistently rejects talks until such time as Russia has withdrawn all of its troops beyond Ukraine’s 1991 borders—the core of his supposed ‘peace plan.’ Obviously, without defeat on the battlefield Russia will not give up Crimea and the four oblasts it now considers to be its sovereign territory. Recently, Zelenskiy rejected negotiations out of hand. Several weeks ago, visiting Turkey, Zelenskiy spurned Turkish President Tayyip Recep Erdogan’s entreaties to start talks with Moscow under Ankara’s mediation. Earlier, Zelenskiy made an unclear statement that talks with Russia were not urgent at this time. He also noted that Ukraine and the West still are working of a “peace formula” that will be handed to Russia as soon as it is ready. If Russia accepts it, then “the issue of negotiations will be relevant,” but the fact that Putin states his goals — neutralization (no NATO membership), demilitarization, and denazification of Ukraine – still hold means he is against talks, stated Zelenskiy (https://strana.news/news/453348-perehovory-ukrainy-s-rossiej-sejchas-ne-aktualny-zelenskij.html and https://t.me/stranaua/133310).

But the above does not necessarily mean that talks may not be in the offing this year or early next year. By then Russian troops will likely have attained the Dnieper River at several points and may even be storming eastern Kiev on the Left Bank. That would be a good time, a logical time for Putin to offer what would then be outright desperate Western capitols and Kiev to begin talks. For Moscow, this stage would also be pivotal. The arrival of Russian troops at, even all along the entire Dnieper, would pose the question of advancing farther in order to force the West and Kiev to negotiate. Russian forces would face the logistical challenge of crossing the Dnieper, which could be mitigated by 1-200,000 Russian and Belarusian troops invading western Ukraine through its northern border with Belarus, and then waging a costly and more escalation-threatening next phase of the ground-air war by moving into more hostile western Ukrainian territory and towards the border with NATO. Russia would be taking on greater costs and risks, while at the same time eliminating the very buffer zone it has been pursuing before and after the February 2022 invasion by way of establishing a neutral Ukraine.

Needless to say, obviously Putin will not accept any obstinacy from the West or Ukraine, as they are at present losing and appear condemned to lose the NATO-Russia Ukrainian War, unless NATO intervenes to prolong the war and/or Putin suffers health problems, sparking a political crisis or shift in Moscow perhaps. The Russians will make tough, perhaps near capitulationist terms but leave some room for actual horse-trading. There would be some limited magnanimity — as was demonstrated by Moscow in the March-April 2022 talks — as Russians do see Ukrainians as a ‘fraternal people’, given their overlapping history, languages, and cultures. But Russia will insist on and likely be able to dictate its core terms: Ukrainian neutrality, “demilitarization” (a small Ukrainian army restricted in its deployment to areas far from the new Russian border), and “denazification” (some limit or bans on political activity by ultranationalists and neofascists). Protections of ethnic Russians’ political, linguistic, and cultural rights or autonomy will also be required by Moscow. A starting position here may also include such protections for Ukraine’s beleaguered Hungarian and Romanian minorities. Ukraine’s political and economic autonomy will not be blocked by Moscow, including possible EU membership. NATO membership is red line for Putin, and any Western or Ukrainian insistence on preserving Kiev’s right to that will scuttle any and all talks with Moscow. Period.

Russia would likely agree to security guarantees for Ukraine as its central compromise with the defeated party. Details that would be acceptable would be those in discussion back in March 2022 under the Istanbul process before the West scuttled them by refusing to back guarantees, convincing Zelenskiy to continue the war. This included dual guarantees from Russia and Western parties and an unclear “international mechanism” perhaps beyond that of a mere treaty (https://strana.news/news/383394-vtorzhenie-rf-dmitrij-medvedev-vyskazalsja-o-harantijakh-bezopasnosti-ukrainy.html). Now, however, 71% percent of the European public wants an immediate end to the conflict (https://szazadveg.hu/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Sovereignty-Conference-Presentation-Results-of-the-Project-Europe-Research-Aron-Hidvegi.pdf).

A key decision for Moscow in deciding whether or not to negotiate will be whether or not, by not crossing the Dniester, to forego seizing Odessa, western Kiev, and a ‘land bridge’ to the pro-Russian breakaway region of Moldova, Transnistria. Taking them would be costly and, again, risky but has its advantages, so any recalcitrance on the West’s and/or Kiev’s part to talk in good faith could lead Putin to opt to cross the Dniester. Regarding Odessa, the city is a Russian-made city, founded by Catherine the Great, and is a lucrative port. On the other hand, leaving the port as part of Ukraine would make the rump Ukrainian state more viable, and Moscow would prefer not having a dysfunctional state on its border. Such a state would be a shaky buffer. Kiev for centuries was part of Russia for centuries and so was called by Russians ‘the mother of all Russian cities.’ It was the seat of one of the first Russian kingdoms — Kievan Rus’ — and incorporated or had close ties with all the others. It was the birthplace of the Russian Orthodoxy and the Russian Orthodox Church. It was removed from Russian sovereignty by what most in the West and many in today’s Russia consider a illegal, criminal regime: the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. Incidentally, Ukraine’s 1991 territory is a conglomeration was cobbled together by Vladimir Lenin and Joseph Stalin. Taking either Kiev or Odessa (as so Kharkov) would be more costly in Russian lives and equipment to take than Mariupol, Bakhmut (Artyomovsk), or Avdiivka (Avdeevka), and they are not majority pro-Russian regions, meaning they would be more difficult to control and integrate into Russia. Finally, in the event of any Western machinations, particularly if the Ukrainian peace treaty fails to hold, Transnistria would be a new focal point in Russo-Western conflict. Russia’s dearth of trust in the West makes being in a position to protect Moldova’s Russian- and Ukrainian-populated breakaway republic.

In sum, the prospects for negotiations occurring, no less bringing a lasting peace are on the decline as Russian forces continue moving west. The configuration of the conflict is becoming exceedingly complex across multiple levels. A watershed moment will be the Russian army’s arrival at the Dnieper in strength and breadth. Moscow will have a complex decision to make, and the willingness of the West and Kiev to propose talks will be weighty in determining that decision. A decision to cross the Dniester and move into western Ukraine is fraught with danger for all, but Moscow’s ‘partners’ may leave Putin with little to no choice. NATO and Kiev also will have their moment of decision: whether to propose negotiations or abandon ‘escalation management’ and send in NATO troops in collective or individual guise on the Macron model. Will it choose to In lieu of a peace agreement, Russian troops’ forcing the Dnieper will increase the likelihood of open NATO involvement in the war and present Moscow with the daunting task of having to put down a hostile population capable of forming a partisan insurgency; one that would certainly be funded, armed, and equipped by the West. The latter would keep the threat of an all-out, full-scale NATO-Russia war alive, threatening not just Ukraine’s future but that of the world.

By Kit Klarenberg, Mint Press News, 3/13/24

As January became February, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) delivered a pair of legal body blows to Ukraine and its Western backers. First, on January 31, it ruled on a case brought by Kiev against Russia in 2017, which accused Moscow of presiding over a campaign of “terrorism” in Donbas, including the July 2014 downing of MH17. It also charged that Russia racially discriminated against Ukrainian and Tatar residents of Crimea following its reunification with Moscow.

The ICJ summarily rejected most charges. Then, on February 2, the Court made a preliminary judgment in a case where Kiev accused Moscow of exploiting false claims of an ongoing genocide of Russians and Russian speakers in Donbas to justify its invasion. Ukraine further charged the Special Military Operation breached the Genocide Convention despite not itself constituting genocide. Almost unanimously, ICJ judges rejected these arguments.

Western media universally ignored or distorted the substance of the ICJ rulings. When outlets did acknowledge the judgments, they misrepresented the first by focusing prominently on the accepted charges while downplaying all dismissed allegations. The second was wildly spun as a significant loss for Moscow. The BBC and others focused on how the Court agreed that “part” of Ukraine’s case could proceed. That this “part” is the question of whether Kiev itself committed genocide in Donbas post-2014 was unmentioned.

Ukraine’s failed lawfare effort was backed by 47 EU and NATO member states, leading to the farce of 32 separate international legal teams submitting representations to The Hague in September 2023. Among other things, they supported Kiev’s bizarre contention that the Donetsk and Lugansk People’s Republics were comparable to Al-Qaeda. Judges comprehensively rejected that assertion. Markedly, in its submitted arguments, Russia drew attention to how the same countries backing Kiev justified their illegal, unilateral destruction of Yugoslavia under the “responsibility to protect” doctrine.

This may not be the only area where Ukraine and its overseas sponsors are in trouble moving forward. A closer inspection of the Court’s rulings comprehensively discredits the established mainstream narrative of what transpired in Crimea and Donbas following the Western-orchestrated Maidan coup in February 2014.

In sum, the judgments raise serious questions about Kiev’s eight-year-long “anti-terrorist operation” against “pro-Russian separatists,” following months of vast protests and violent clashes throughout eastern Ukraine between Russian-speaking pro-federal activists and authorities.

DAMNING FINDING AFTER DAMNING FINDING

In its first judgment, the ICJ ruled the Donbas and Lugansk People’s Republics were not “terrorist” entities, as “[neither] group has previously been characterized as being terrorist in nature by an organ of the United Nations” and could not be branded such simply because Kiev labeled them so. This gravely undermined Ukraine’s allegations of Russia “funding…terrorist groups” in Donbas, let alone committing “terrorist” acts there itself.

Other revelatory findings reinforced this bombshell. The ICJ held that Moscow wasn’t liable for committing or even failing to prevent terrorism, as the Kremlin had no “reasonable grounds to suspect” material provided by Ukraine, including details of “accounts, bank cards and other financial instruments” allegedly used by accused “terrorists” in Donbas, were used for such purposes. Moscow was also ruled to have launched investigations into “alleged offenders” but concluded they “d[id] not exist… or their location could not be identified”.

Nonetheless, the ICJ ruled that Moscow had failed “to investigate allegations of the commission of terrorism financing offenses by alleged offenders present in its territory.” This was due to the Kremlin not providing “additional information” upon Kiev’s request and failing to “specify to Ukraine what further information may have been required.” Ironically, judges conversely condemned Kiev’s allegations of “terrorism” by Russia as “vague and highly generalized,” based on highly dubious evidence and documentation, including – strikingly – Western media reports:

The Court has held that certain materials, such as press articles and extracts from publications, are regarded ‘not as evidence capable of proving facts.’

The ICJ was also highly condemnatory of the quality of witnesses and witness evidence produced by Kiev to support these charges. Judges were particularly scathing of Ukraine’s reliance on testimony supporting a systematic, state-sanctioned “pattern of racial discrimination” discrimination against Ukrainians and Tatars in Crimea since 2014. Statements attesting to this were “collected many years after the relevant events” and “not supported by corroborating documentation”:

The reports relied on by Ukraine are of limited value in confirming that the relevant measures are of a racially discriminatory character…Ukraine has not demonstrated… reasonable grounds to suspect that racial discrimination had taken place, which should have prompted the Russian authorities to investigate.

Elsewhere, Ukraine argued that “legal consequences” for residents of Crimea if they opted to maintain Ukrainian citizenship post-2014 and a “steep decline in the number of students receiving their school education in the Ukrainian language between 2014 and 2016,” amounting to an alleged 80% drop in the first year and a further 50% reduction in 2015, were signifiers of a discriminatory environment for non-Russians in the peninsula.

In support, Kiev submitted witness statements from parents claiming they were “subjected to harassment and manipulative conduct with a view to deterring” their children from receiving “instruction in Ukrainian,” which judges did not accept. By contrast, Moscow provided testimony not only demonstrating that parents made a “genuine” choice “not subject to pressure” to have their children taught in Russian but also “unresponsiveness on the part of parents to some teachers’ active encouragement [emphasis added] to continue having their children receive instruction in Ukrainian.”

The ICJ lent weight to these submissions, noting, “It is undisputed that no such decline has taken place with respect to school education in other languages, including the Crimean Tatar language.” Judges attributed much of the drop in demand for Ukrainian language “school instruction” to “a dominant Russian cultural environment and the departure of thousands of pro-Ukrainian Crimean residents to mainland Ukraine.” Moscow moreover “produced evidence substantiating its attempts at preserving Ukrainian cultural heritage and… explanations for the measures undertaken with respect to that heritage.”

Russia supplied documentation showing that “Ukrainian and Crimean Tatar organizations have been successful in applying to hold events” in the peninsula. In contrast, “multiple events organized by ethnic Russians have been denied.” Evidently, Russian authorities are even-handed towards Crimea’s population – the color of someone’s passport and their mother tongue are immaterial. On the same grounds, judges rejected Kiev’s accusation that “measures taken against Crimean Tatar and Ukrainian media outlets were based on the ethnic origin of the persons affiliated with them.”

Still, the Court contradictorily concluded Russia “violated its obligations of the International Convention on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination,” as Moscow “[did not demonstrate] that it complied with its duty to protect the rights of ethnic Ukrainians from a disparate adverse effect based on their ethnic origin.”

How US and UK Government Propaganda Specialists Collaborated with Nazis in Ukraine

The prominent role of Banderite Neo-Nazis in Ukraine’s government propaganda operations suggests that Nazi apologism has spread into the core institutions of its government – perhaps more than the dominant Western view is able to admit.

KIEV GOES IN FOR THE KILL

The ICJ has now effectively confirmed that the entire mainstream narrative of what happened in Crimea and Donbas over the previous decade was fraudulent. Some legal scholars have argued Ukraine’s acquittal on charges of genocide to be inevitable. Yet, many statements made by Ukrainian nationalists since Maidan unambiguously indicate such an intent.

Moreover, in June 2020, a British immigration court granted asylum to Ukrainian citizens who fled the country to avoid conscription. They successfully argued that military service in Donbas would necessarily entail perpetrating and being implicated in “acts contrary to the basic rules of human conduct” – in other words, war crimes – against the civilian population.

The Court’s ruling noted the Ukrainian military routinely engaged in “unlawful capture and detention of civilians with no legal or military justification…motivated by the need for ‘currency’ for prisoner exchanges.” It added there was “systemic mistreatment” of detainees during the “anti-terrorist operation” in Donbas. This included “torture and other conduct that is cruel, inhumane and degrading treatment.” An “attitude and atmosphere of impunity for those involved in mistreating detainees” was observed.

The judgment also recorded “widespread civilian loss of life and the extensive destruction of residential property” in Donbas, “attributable to poorly targeted and disproportionate attacks carried out by the Ukrainian military.” Water installations, it recorded, “have been a particular and repeated target by Ukrainian armed forces, despite civilian maintenance and transport vehicles being clearly marked…and despite the protected status such installations enjoy” under international law.

All of this could quite reasonably be argued to constitute genocide. Regardless, the British asylum judgment amply underlines who Ukraine was truly fighting all along – its own citizens. Moscow could furthermore reasonably cite recent disclosures from Angela Merkel and Francois Hollande that the 2014-15 Minsk Accords were, in fact, a con, never intended to be implemented, buying Kiev time to bolster its stockpiles of Western weapons, vehicles, and ammunition, as yet further proof of Ukraine’s malign intentions in Donbas.

The Accords did not provide for secession or independence for the Donetsk and Lugansk People’s Republics but for their full autonomy within Ukraine. Russia was named a mediator, not a party, to the conflict. Kiev was to resolve the dispute directly with rebel leaders. These were crucial legal distinctions about which Ukraine and its overseas backers were immensely displeased. They repeatedly attempted over subsequent years to compel Moscow to designate itself formally as a party to the conflict despite Russia’s minimal role in the conflict.

As a 2019 report published by the Soros-funded International Crisis Group (ICG), “Rebels Without A Cause” found, “the conflict in eastern Ukraine started as a grassroots movement… Demonstrations were led by local citizens claiming to represent the region’s Russian-speaking majority.” Moscow only began providing financial and material support to the rebels after Ukraine’s “counter-terror” operation in Donbas started in April 2014. And it was meager at that.

The ICG found that Russia’s position was consistent: the two breakaway republics remain autonomous subjects within Ukraine. This frequently put the Kremlin at significant odds with the rebel leadership, who acted in their own interests and rarely followed orders. The report concluded that Moscow was ultimately “beholden” to the breakaway republics, not vice versa. Rebel fighters wouldn’t put down their arms even if Vladimir Putin personally demanded them to.

Given present-day events, the report’s conclusions are eerie. The ICG declared the situation in Donbas “ought not to be narrowly defined as a matter of Russian occupation” and criticized Kiev’s “tendency to conflate” the Kremlin and the rebels. It expressed hope that newly-elected President Volodymyr Zelensky could “peacefully reunify with the rebel-held territories” and “[engage] the alienated east.”

The 2017 ICJ case explicitly concerned validating allegations of Russia’s direct, active involvement in Donbas. We are left to ponder whether this lawfare effort was intended to secure Kiev’s specious legal grounds for claiming it was invaded in 2014. After all, this could, in turn, have precipitated an all-out Western proxy war in Donbas of the kind that erupted in February 2022.

At the start of that month, French President Emmanuel Macron reaffirmed his commitment to Minsk, claiming he had Zelensky’s personal assurance it would be implemented. However, on February 11, talks between representatives of France, Germany, Russia, and Ukraine collapsed after nine hours without tangible results. Notably, Kiev rejected demands for “direct dialogue” with the rebels, insisting Moscow formally designate itself a party to the conflict in keeping with its past obstructionist position.

Then, as documented in multiple contemporary eyewitness reports from OSCE observers, mass Ukrainian artillery shelling of Donbas erupted. On February 15, alarmed representatives of the Duma, led by Russia’s influential Communist Party, formally requested that the Kremlin recognize the Donetsk and Lugansk People’s Republics. Putin initially refused, reiterating his commitment to Minsk. The shelling intensified. A February 19 OSCE report recorded 591 ceasefire violations over the past 24 hours, including 553 explosions in rebel-held areas.

Civilians were harmed in the strikes, and civilian structures, including schools, were apparently targeted directly. Meanwhile, that same day, Donetsk rebels claimed they thwarted two sabotage attacks by Polish-speaking operatives on ammonia and oil reservoirs in their territory. Perhaps not coincidentally, in January 2022, it was revealed that the CIA had been training a secret paramilitary army in Ukraine to carry out precisely such strikes in the event of a Russian invasion since 2015.

So, on February 21, the Kremlin formally accepted the Duma’s plea from a week earlier to recognize Donetsk and Lugansk as independent republics. And now here we are.

by Ian Proud, Antiwar.com, 4/2/24

Ian Proud is a former British diplomat and was the Economic Counsellor at the British Embassy in Moscow from July 2014 to 2019. While in Russia, Ian advised UK Ministers on Russia’s political economy, and that of neighbouring former Soviet states, including Ukraine. He recently published his memoir, a Misfit in Moscow: how British diplomacy in Russia failed, 2014-2019.

In his recent article on attritional warfare, Alex Vershinin at the Royal United Services Institute remarked that ‘war is won by economies, not armies’. Put another way, the country that can outspend its rival in military endeavour will ultimately prevail. [https://www.rusi.org/explore-our-research/publications/commentary/attritional-art-war-lessons-russian-war-ukraine]

To defeat Russia, Ukraine would need economic resources that it does not have and will not be able to obtain.

It isn’t just that Ukraine’s economy is now more than ten times smaller than Russia’s. The problem runs much deeper. Since the Ukraine crisis started in 2014, Ukraine has ducked opportunities to enact the structural reforms it needs to tackle deep-seated corruption and diversify/strengthen its economy.

Ukraine needed either to set a course towards an economic model that exports and has spare capital to invest, including overseas, or towards an economic model that is comfortable to import and can attract foreign investment to offset the difference. At the moment, Ukraine is neither and it can’t make the cardinal shift while war is raging. Real economic reform in Ukraine has therefore sat in the pending tray for a decade.

Data from the National Bank of Ukraine shows that the country consistently imports more than it exports. Not since 2022. Since 2006, the year after the Orange revolution. While on average, Ukraine’s yearly trading shortfall was $11bn in the ten years before war broke out, that figure almost tripled to $31.6bn in 2022 and 2023. Yes, exports of goods have fallen since war broke out, by 17% and 30% in 2022 and 2023 respectively compared to the average. But, critically, imports of services have also doubled since 2021. Ukraine’s trading surplus in services amounted to $3bn p.a. between 2012 and 2021; since 2022 it has slumped to a deficit of $9.8bn.

Service imports have in large part been driven by the large scale relocation of Ukrainians to other countries. Ukrainian people spending Ukrainian money in other countries counts as an import, just as spending by foreign tourists in London counts as a service export for Britain. For Ukraine, that imbalance won’t be resolved until war ends and its citizens return en masse.

Why does this matter? When a country imports more than it exports, it burns up supplies of foreign currency. If it runs out of foreign currency, then it can’t pay for imports and external debt. Just look at what happened in Sri Lanka in 2022, which ran out of reserves and defaulted for the first time in its history. Functional economies avoid this trap by attracting foreign investment, look at the US and the UK for example, which consistently run deficits but maintain healthy foreign exchange reserves.

Ukraine, however, isn’t a functional economy. Few foreign companies are making productive investments in Ukraine, and this challenge dates back to 2014, and the onset of the Ukraine crisis. Foreign investment into Ukraine’s private sector since then has averaged a paltry $2.2bn p.a. compared to $15.6bn p.a. from 2010 to 2013. That’s mostly because investors generally avoid zones of conflict and war. But it is also partly driven by the power vertical in Ukraine in which a handful of Oligarchs maintain an iron grip on business interests across the country.

The war hasn’t changed and won’t change that fundamentally negative economic picture. Ukraine can’t attract significant foreign capital while at war. And efforts to boost its exports have run into headwinds, particularly in Europe, with EU farmers rebelling against the flood of cheap imports from Ukraine.

So Ukraine needs to depend on a friendly lender of last resort. In the Soviet Union, that would have been Russia. Today, it is western donor nations. Look at Ukraine’s balance of payments and you’d see that it received on average $5bn p.a. in secondary income between 2010 and 2021; largely hand-outs from other governments. In 2022 and 2023 respectively it received massive inflows of $28bn and $24bn, to help stabilise its current account and prevent a collapse in foreign exchange reserves.

More concerning, with Kyiv now spending an astonishing half of its ballooning budget on defence it has been forced to go to the lenders as well, borrowing a staggering $40bn in the two years since 2022, or almost one quarter of its current GDP. That’s a 2000% increase in central government borrowing compared to the average in the ten years prior to war. After much huffing and puffing, Victor Orban reluctantly agreed the EU’s most recent programme of support to Ukraine, amounting to 50bn Euro which runs to 2027. But 33bn Euro of this is loans, equating to another 19.9% of Ukraine’s current GDP.

Today, Ukraine’s gross external debt is already around 90% of GDP. In a downside scenario, the EU has predicted that Ukrainian debt could hit 140% of GDP as early as 2026. If that doesn’t worry you, it should. With war widening Ukraine’s current account deficit, western nations will need to provide ever greater amounts of macro-financial assistance just to prop up the country’s reserves. Because if Ukraine ran out of reserves and had to devalue the Hryvnia, then it would simply not be able to service its debt and would go into economic meltdown, requiring even greater western assistance.

Across the line of contact, much boiler plate analysis is churned out daily about Russia’s putative economic woes, but what does the data from Russia’s Central Bank tell us? Despite the structural challenges it faces, and notwithstanding the legally questionable freezing of $300bn (or around half) of its foreign exchange reserves, Russia is anything but short of liquidity.

With western journalists blowing a collective raspberry at the rouble’s collapse after war broke out, Russia nevertheless brought in a staggeringly large current account surplus of £238bn in 2022. That’s more than Ukraine’s pre-war yearly economic output, and over two times the value of western financial and military assistance to Ukraine in 2022. It is almost four times larger than Russia’s average current account surplus in the ten preceding years. Russia’s current account surplus stabilised to $50bn in 2023, which is consistent with the long-term trend, and from the first two months of data, may come in slightly higher in 2024.

The Russian economy is trimmed to export and reinvest earnings. The country hasn’t run a yearly current account deficit since 1998, the year it defaulted. Largely because of this, Russia has very low external debt, at less than 20% of GDP. Russia’s military spending could rise to 10% of GDP this year, with defence spending comfortably outstripping Ukraine’s by three times. It doesn’t need to borrow significantly and has enough liquidity left in the tank to fund huge social programmes, which mean consumer spending in the economy remains strong.

Russia’s current economic model brings downside risks in terms of the country’s inability to diversify into new, more value-adding sectors of industry. These risks have been acknowledged by Putin but are too long-term to affect decision making on Ukraine. For now, Russia holds a significantly better economic hand in prosecuting an attritional war.

No credible western military analyst now predicts a complete victory by Ukraine in this war that would push Russia back to its pre-war (let alone pre-2014) lines. But, in any case, it is clear that victory hinges on the balance sheet, more than on the battlefield. Ukraine will never have the economic resources it needs to out gun Russia. So, setting aside issues of weapons’ supplies to Ukraine and, indeed, who will pay the reconstruction bill when war ends, how long are western powers prepared to keep plying Ukraine with more debt as it prosecutes an unwinnable war?

The economic policy no-mans-land that Ukraine has chosen to occupy didn’t start in 2022, but rather in 2014, when the Ukraine crisis began. We were told that Ukraine wanted to make a ‘European choice’ and cast off the rusted-over shackles of Soviet era mismanagement. It is therefore an irony that western assistance has not prompted a genuine and meaningful effort at reform in Ukraine that would speed the process towards eventual EU membership. Rather, it has created and will continue to solidify a state of truculent dependence which weakens Ukraine economically and leaves it as ungrateful for western support as it was for Russian.

Ukraine could still make its European choice. But first that would require painful political choices. A choice to end the war through negotiations and a choice, for the first time, to face down vested interests and undertake meaningful reform in Ukraine. It’s far from clear to me that Zelensky has the power to make either choice. For now, and to paraphrase from the movie Top Gun, I fear Zelensky’s ego is writing cheques his country can’t cash.