How Vladimir Putin is waging war on the West- and winning
How Vladimir Putin is waging war on the West- and
winning
By: Anne Applebaum
Taken From: The Spectator
Last month,
the speaker of the Russian parliament solemnly instructed his foreign affairs
committee to launch a historical investigation: was West Germany’s ‘annexation’
of East Germany really legal? Should it be condemned? Ought it to be reversed?
Last week, the Russian foreign minister, speaking at a security conference in
Munich, hinted that he might have similar doubts. ‘Germany’s reunification was
conducted without any referendum,’ he declared, ominously.
At this,
the normally staid audience burst out laughing. The Germans in the room found
the Russian statements particularly hilarious. Undo German unification? Why,
that would require undoing the whole post-Cold War settlement! Which is indeed
a very amusing notion — unless you think that this is exactly what the Russian
speaker, the Russian foreign minister, and indeed the Russian President, a man
who once called the collapse of the Soviet Union ‘the greatest geopolitical
catastrophe of the 20th century’, are in fact trying to achieve.
I concede
that this plan does sound preposterous. Twenty-five years after the fall of the
Berlin Wall, the old Soviet empire is no more. Most of the old Warsaw Pact
countries have joined the European Union and Nato. Central Europe’s transition
from communism to democracy has been widely acclaimed as a huge success, and
indeed is widely copied and studied the world over. Poland, Hungary, the Czech
Republic, Slovakia, even Romania and Bulgaria are all more open and generally
more prosperous than ever before. Germany is triumphantly unified, and Europe
is whole and free.
Can
Vladimir Putin really pick all of this apart? Well, while most of us weren’t
watching, he has certainly tried. We’ve spent the past decade arguing about
Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, almost anything but Russia. Meanwhile, Russia has been
pursuing a grand strategy designed to delegitimise Nato, undermine the EU,
split the western alliance and, above all, reverse the transitions of the
1990s.
Much of the
time, they are pushing on an open door. The Kremlin doesn’t invent
anti-European or anti-establishment ideas, it simply supports them in whatever
form they exist, customising their tactics to suit each country. They’ll
support the far left or the far right — in Greece they support both.
Despite its
economic plight, the new Greek government’s first act was not a protest against
European economic policy but a protest against sanctions on Russia. Only then
did it tell its European creditors that it might not pay them back.
If need be,
Russia will court select members of the political and financial establishment
too. In Britain, Russia has friends in the City, but also sponsors RT, the
propaganda channel which features George Galloway and other titans of the loony
left. In France, Russia keeps in close touch with industrialists, but a
Russian-Czech bank has loaned Marine Le Pen’s far-right National Front €9
million, with another €30 million said to be on the way.
Still,
Britain and France are established democracies, each with a relatively strong
political class and relatively solvent news-papers, and Greece is a longstanding
member of the EU. With very little effort, the Kremlin can achieve a lot more
in smaller countries where the political class is impoverished, the media
downright broke and Europe still a new idea. On a recent visit to Prague, I was
surprised to hear so much Russian spoken in the streets, and said so to a
friend. He rolled his eyes: ‘Prague has become the poor man’s London.’ Russians
who can’t afford Mayfair buy flats in the Baroque city centre. While there,
they’ve discovered that the price of manipulating Czech politics is strikingly
low.
Here again,
they didn’t invent the Czech backlash against transition. Not everyone has got
what they wanted in the past 25 years; the dissatisfied young don’t remember
the bad old days. The Iraq war created disillusion with the transatlantic
alliance, and the financial crash of 2009 created scepticism of the ‘West
European model’ that the Czechs used to admire. Since 2013, when the Czech
government collapsed following a bribery scandal, the Czech internet has heaved
with invective and insult, attacks on ‘our corrupt political class’ and ‘two
wasted decades’. In this atmosphere, a tiny bit of Russian media funding,
especially in a country where most newspapers lose money, goes a long way. One
former minister told me that the same Czech internet portals which attacked him
— he says falsely — for corruption are now attacking Ukraine and supporting
Russia’s annexation of Crimea.
A little
bit of money goes a long way in Czech politics too. The election campaign of
the current president, Milos Zeman, was openly financed in 2013 by Lukoil, the
Russian energy company. Since then President Zeman — who doesn’t, fortunately,
control the government — has argued vociferously against Russian sanctions,
dismissed the Russian invasion of Ukraine as a ‘bout of flu’ and invited western-sanctioned
Russian oligarchs to Prague. Nor is he alone. In Prague, I was invited to
debate a close associate of Vaclav Klaus, Zeman’s predecessor, who complained
at length about the pernicious influence of Germany and the EU. I asked him
whether German companies had ever paid for Czech presidential election
campaigns, as Lukoil does. He couldn’t answer.
The EU
doesn’t use anonymous trolls to manipulate the media, as Russia does all over
central Europe. Nor does it fund any far-right political parties, as it does in
Budapest as well as Paris. Nevertheless, Hungary’s centre-right prime minister,
Viktor Orban, has adopted a piece of Russia’s anti-transition message too. Last
year he secured a Russian loan — the details of which were secret — for the
construction of a new nuclear power plant. A few months later, he told ethnic
Hungarians in Romania that it was time to abandon western ‘dogmas and
ideologies’ such as liberal democracy, the form of government which was, once
upon a time, the central goal of Hungary’s transition.
Infamously, Orban then
explained that he preferred the ‘illiberal democracies’ of Turkey, China, and
of course Russia. Putin is visiting Budapest this week.
As in
Prague, the relationship between Russian money for Orban’s projects and Orban’s
pro-Russian and illiberal views is murky. But other things besides money may be
at stake. Orban is famously nostalgic for ‘greater Hungary’, which hasn’t
existed since the first world war. A small slice of that fabled lost territory
is now part of Ukraine — a point the Russian foreign minister also brought up,
curiously, in Munich. Perhaps this was a hint: if Russia successfully
partitions Ukraine, maybe Budapest will get a slice too.
Even if
Hungary doesn’t, in the end, succumb to the charms of illiberal democracy,
others might. In Serbia, which is not yet an EU member (and Russia would like
to keep it that way), Russian firms control the most important oil and gas
companies, and Putin was recently welcomed with the largest military parade in
30 years. Slovakia has a prime minister who flirts with hardline nationalism —
he has said that his country was established ‘for Slovaks, not for minorities’
— and also feels doubtful about sanctions on Russia.
Even in
Poland, probably the most successful nation in central Europe and the most
reliably pro-Nato, internet trolls talk of a ‘disastrous’ 25 years, and
mainstream opposition politicians in full campaigning mode have been heard to
dismiss Poland’s ‘Third Republic’ — 1989 to the present — as a catastrophe.
Those who consider themselves ‘losers’ of the Polish transition are a minority,
but they do exist. No one is fond of Russia in Poland, but that isn’t the
point: Russia doesn’t need Poland, Hungary or Slovakia republic to be ruled by
pro-Russian governments. They just need anti-German governments in central
Europe, or anti-western governments, or simply incompetent governments that can
persuade the rest of Nato to throw up their hands and say ‘we won’t fight for
these people’.
A Czech or
Romanian government which would join the Greeks in opposing sanctions on Russia
would also be useful. A Hungarian or Bulgarian government willing to torpedo
any unified European policy towards Russia, especially one which concerns oil
and gas, would be better still.
If a
significant number of obstreperous central Europeans came to power, it isn’t at
all hard to imagine how a chunk of central Europe could break off from the
European Union. Indeed, it isn’t hard to imagine how bits of what we used to
call western Europe could break off from the European Union too. Greece is
halfway there already. President Le Pen in France and a far-left Podemos
government in Spain would also want to redraw the political map. And if the
resultant economic and political crisis happened to hit Germany particularly
hard, perhaps the Germans would decide to strike out on their own too,
abandoning their European partners and the transatlantic alliance both.
If you were
Vladimir Putin, wouldn’t you at least try it? There are still plenty of
ex–Stasi informers in the eastern Lander, and plenty of former Russian agents.
Nobody will notice if a few dodgy companies pay a few converted roubles into
the accounts of Germany’s anti–European parties.
Thanks to
the Snowden affair, and the alleged bugging of Chancellor Merkel’s phone, the
Germans are already pretty angry at the Americans. They’ve long since ceased to
treat the British as serious geopolitical players. It wouldn’t take that much
money or that many trolls to keep a drumbeat of anti-western, anti-American,
anti-EU rhetoric going for a few years, as long as it takes.
We will
know that it’s succeeded when the next Russian foreign minister declares the
post-Cold War settlement null and void — and nobody laughs.
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