At the Fence of Metternich's Garden
- -
- 100%
- +
Any nation is largely built on ‘invented traditions’, and Russia is no exception to the rule. But very few nations center their identities almost thoroughly on historical myths, and very few national myths are so expansive, so militant and, alas, so broadly accepted as ‘historical truths’.
A ‘Russia first’ policy, based on these myths as well as on cynical Realpolitik, seems to be the main if not the only rationale for Western ambiguity about Ukraine and for Western reluctance to treat it as equal to any other nation on the continent, with the same rights, same chances and prospects for EU membership as Albania, Turkey or, say, Bosnia and Herzegovina. It does not mean that unreformed, stagnant, oligarchic Ukraine could and should be admitted to the EU. It means only that such a Ukraine should be rejected for that very reason articulated openly, and not because Russia might feel ‘isolated’ and perhaps ‘unhappy’, as some Western leaders equivocally suggest. “Tough love” (in Heather Grabbe’s words)—this is exactly what Ukraine needs: more ‘love’ for the nation, with clear incentives of future membership, and more ‘toughness’ for the political leaders, who should come in line with their domestic and international obligations.
So far, EU policy towards Ukraine has been nearly as ambiguous and equivocal as that of Ukraine towards the EU, although the reasons for this are different. From such a policy, probably no one can figure out whether Ukraine is barred from prospective membership simply because of its poor political and economic performance, or rather because of the nation’s assumed intrinsic inferiority and congenital Russian vassalage.
Some statements made by EU officials rather deepen the confusion than dispel it. Suffice it to mention Romano Prodi’s notorious remark that Ukraine “has as much reason to be in the EU as New Zealand” (because New Zealanders, in his words, also have a European identity). Or the no less controversial quip by Günter Verheugen that “anybody who thinks Ukraine should be taken into the EU should perhaps come along with the argument that Mexico should be taken into the U.S.”2
It does not matter that neither do New Zealanders strive to join the EU, nor Mexicans for U.S. accession. And that none of them stage an ‘orange revolution’ to assert their Europeanness. In both exemplified cases, grotesque and essentially absurd arguments were set forth by respectable politicians in such a way as to stultify their potential opponents, to mock and discredit their arguments in advance, and to thereby make any further discussion impossible. In other words, the goal was not to clarify anything whatsoever but just to convert political power into discursive or, as Michel Foucault would have put it, to monopolize the discourse of ‘normality’ and push all opponents beyond that discourse, into the realm of insanity and obsession.
The double standards will probably be ingrained in EU policy vis-à-vis Ukraine, and the duplicity will not disappear, as long as the EU does not decouple Ukraine and Russia and refuses to recognize their absolutely different strategic agendas. The EU still has to decide whether “it can agree in principle to Ukraine being inside the EU while Russia remains outside” [Kuzio 2003: 30]. This cannot come easily, and Ukrainians must recognize that ‘enlargement fatigue’ is a reality in Europe. And that the timing is really bad for their country after the decision to start membership talks with Turkey and the accession of 10 new countries in 2004. For too many Europeans, as Martin Wolf put it, Ukraine and Turkey, by virtue of their size and location, are “twin nightmares” haunting the EU (Financial Times, 1 February 2005). Too many of them perceive these countries as not just too poor, too big, and too different, but as thoroughly alien, even hostile. Xenophobia is primarily a biological, not a sociological phenomenon. It comes from a basic instinct that can be controlled or not, can be tamed by culture and education, or released and exploited by populist ideologies and political forces.
Ukrainians may be surprised, even exasperated by the fact that the European Neighborhood Policy elaborated by the EU places them in one bag with North African and Middle Eastern countries, but this decision reflects the profound mode of Western thought: all these countries, including Ukraine, are perceived as not really ‘European’, and the name ‘European Neighborhood Policy’ (instead of ‘EU Neighborhood Policy’) is not just a minor political incorrectness but an essential view, a part of the Weltanschauung. In a sense, the Europeans are right: all the profound differences between East Slavonic and Middle Eastern or North African countries notwithstanding, all of them “are involved in a more or less open civil war which seems to be fed by a disagreement on the adoption of Western values” [Langer 2004]. What is common between Morocco and Belarus, Lebanon and Ukraine is that in all of them “the EU is challenged by another spiritual power”—Muslim orthodoxy in one case, Russian ‘Eurasian’/neo-Soviet imperialism in the other.
For many Ukrainians, this is a difficult truth to accept. From their point of view, the ENP rather excludes them from Europe proper than facilitates their inclusion. This not only contradicts Ukraine’s stated strategic goal of full EU membership, but also poses a challenge to Ukraine’s identity, which historically evolved under permanent threat of Russification and therefore made the nation’s alleged ‘Europeanness’ a sort of life belt, a means to legitimize and secure its cultural and political emancipation. The Europeans, who tend to ignore this sensitive issue, simply do not understand its symbolic importance. For many Ukrainians, the denial of Ukraine’s European prospects means a denial, or undermining, of their identity, an implicit attempt to throw them back into the Russian ‘Eurasian’ bag and, worse, to cynically settle relations with Russia at Ukraine’s expense.
From the very beginning, ‘return to Europe’ has been seen by Ukrainian nation-builders as a return to the norm, a fixing of historical injustice and perversion, a healing of a developmental pathology. Such a romantic approach emerged naturally from modern Ukrainian nationalism which, from its very inception in the first half of the 19th century, had to emphasize Ukraine’s ‘otherness’ vis-a-vis Russia [Riabchuk 1996]. This meant, in particular, that Ukrainian activists not just praised the alleged Ukrainian ‘Europeanness’ as opposed to the demonized Russian ‘Asiaticness’; they had volens-nolens to accept the whole set of Western liberal-democratic values as presumably ‘natural’ and ‘organic’ for Ukrainians (yet allegedly ‘unnatural’ for Russians).
In a recent examination of the correlation between a strong Ukrainian national identity, and adherence to democracy, market reforms, and westernization, Stephen Shulman concluded that the crucial factor was Ukrainians’ self-image. That is, Ukrainian nationalism claims that Ukrainians historically and culturally were particularly individualistic and freedom-loving.
Elite proponents of this identity typically contrast ethnic Ukrainians and Ukraine historically and culturally with Russians in Russia, a people and a country that are perceived to have strong collectivistic and authoritarian roots. At the same time, elite proponents of this identity argue that Ukrainians have much in common culturally and historically with Europe (…) [Therefore] democracy and capitalism symbolically raise the status of ethnic Ukrainians, spread the values alleged to be associated with ethnic Ukrainian culture throughout the country, and are more likely to function effectively in a country based on perceived ethnic Ukrainian values. Further, since the main ‘Other’ of this identity, Russia, is seen as having a history and culture estranged from individualistic and freedom-based development models, rejection of non-democratic and non-capitalistic models symbolically and actually maintains the perceived cultural distance between Ukraine and Russia and thereby reinforces the Ethnic Ukrainian national identity. Finally, precisely because European and ethnic Ukrainian culture are seen as close, and Europeans are associated with democracy and capitalism, these models are likely to be favored because they symbolically and actually reinforce the cultural similarity between these two peoples and elevate the status of ethnic Ukrainians in Ukraine as a core group [Shulman, 2005: 67].
The problem with this analysis, however, is that this type of identity has never dominated Ukraine—at least until recently. In a sense, it was a “minority faith,” as Andrew Wilson [1997] defined it, because it was repressed for decades by the Russian-tsarist and then Russian-Soviet state, which promoted imperial Russian/Soviet/East Slavonic identity.
Even though the correlation between language, identity and social/political attitudes disclosed by Shulman is not direct, it is statistically significant and useful for political prognosis as well as (alas) manipulation. Apparently, the highest level of national self-awareness and the strongest commitment to European integration and Western liberal-democratic values is to be found in the least Russified, western part of the country, while the lowest level of national consciousness and strongest Sovietophile, anti-Western attitudes can be found in the most Russified/Sovietized south-eastern regions.3 This creates a very strong temptation to conceptualize Ukraine simplistically in Manichean terms as a place with a ‘nationalist’ West and a ‘Sovietophile’ East.
A long way ahead
During the Orange Revolution in Ukraine, the West—in both national and international terms—scored a victory. In geopolitical terms, Ukraine’s further European advance might be as important as Turkey’s. In one case, the whole Muslim world would see that “Islam is compatible with secular democracy” (The Wall Street Journal, 8 February 2005). In the other case, the entire post-Soviet world, including Russia, will see that the Soviet legacy can be overcome, the post-Soviet “void of values” filled, and “disintegration of all levels of society” recovered from [Langer 2004].
The regime change that occurred in Ukraine at the end of 2004, and the EU enlargement that made Ukraine an immediate neighbor of the EU since May 2004, urged both sides to reconsider their relations in both practical and conceptual terms. The revision would not be a simple task since the ‘big-bang’ had been planned long ago, with all the adjacent policies and documents, while the Orange revolution occurred unexpectedly, at least for the Europeans, brining many more difficult questions than easy answers to the agenda.
Ukrainians may once again become the ‘unwanted step-children’ of some grand continental events, this time—of the Great East European Revolution that swept away authoritarian regimes west of Ukraine in 1989 but reached Kyiv only with a regretful 15-year delay. The new Ukrainian authorities are supposed to take a pragmatic stance vis-à-vis the EU. On the one hand, they could and probably should remain critical of the EU policy towards Ukraine, pointing out, exactly as their predecessors, its short-sightedness and duplicity. Yet on the other hand, they should accept the proposed programs and mechanisms of cooperation, however feeble and superficial, and—unlike their predecessors—make proper use of these programs, putting an end to a weird ambiguity, at least on the Ukrainian side.
In other words, they should put the ball in the EU’s court by completing all the required reforms and programs and exposing thereby the EU’s inadequate, biased and double-standard approach to Ukraine—as long as the EU denies Ukraine’s membership aspirations but accepts Turkish, Albanian, and Macedonian bids. At the moment, it seems to be the only option available for Ukrainians—to work hard, to improve the country’s image, and to press the West diplomatically with a hope that even the most reluctant Europeans will sooner or later run out of excuses for keeping a reformed and dynamic country outside.
It would take much time and even more effort from both Ukrainians and Europeans to come to terms with some simple truths and complicated reality. So far, the Ukrainian stance articulated by the President’s first aide looks quite measured and reasonable: “We agreed not to say ‘tomorrow’ while they [EU leaders] agreed not to say ‘never’.” It looks promising that the person assigned to coordinate Ukraine’s European integration began with sober self-criticism rather than anti-Brussels complaints and self-indulgence. “We have just entered the elementary school,” he reprimanded his fellow-countrymen half-jokingly, “and right away demand the university diploma!” (Ukrayinska pravda, 21 February 2005).
The best answer the Europeans can make to this stance has been unofficially (as yet) formulated by the Polish President Aleksander Kwasniewski: “There is no argument not to open negotiations with Ukraine. The question is of time, of procedures, but not why or if” (United Press International, 2 February 2005). Giscard d’Estaing and his colleagues may have a different opinion, but it is up to Ukrainians to prove they are wrong.
2005
1 Quoted in “New Neighbourhood—New Association. Ukraine and the European Union at the beginning of the 21st century,” Policy Papers 6. Warsaw: Stefan Batory Foundation (March 2002): 11.
2 As reported by Varfolomeyev, O. 2002. “The EU’s Unwanted Stranger?” Transition Online. July 12.
3 Symptomatically, the geopolitical preferences of both Ukrainians and Russians in western Ukraine clearly differ from the geopolitical preferences of both Ukrainians and Russians in the east. In other words, “regional rather than ethnic affiliation determines geopolitical preferences” (Reznik, O. 2001. “Zovnishniopolitychni oriyentatsiyi naselennia,” in Vorona, V., Shulha, M. (eds.), Ukrayinske suspilstvo: desiat rokiv nezalezhnosti. Kyiv: Instytut sotsiolohiyi NANU: 243.
(4) ‘Eurasian’ Othering
The term ‘Eurasia’ has many meanings but all of them can be subsumed under two main rubrics. The first is purely geographical, referring to a formidable landmass stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific and considering Europe and Asia as a single continental entity, with the former as a peninsula of the latter. The second meaning is much more versatile but in all its multi-faceted representations it refers typically to a Greater Russia, to some space dominated historically by the Russian Empire and its Soviet (and post-Soviet) reincarnation. The term is rather political, cultural, and ideological than purely geographical. It entails not only the idea of Russian political dominance, whether justified or not, whether legitimate (in terms of mission civilisatrice and/or ‘liberation’ of neighbors from somebody else) or illegitimate (in terms of imperial conquest and subjugation). It also promotes the idea of the cultural/civilizational peculiarity of the region, suggesting that it is neither Europe nor Asia but some mixture of both that represents a separate and very special ‘Eurasian’ civilization. Its essence is Russian culture—but rather imperial than national. The common imperial past and some imprints of Russian imperial culture are the only thing that draws together the nations that otherwise are worlds apart in all possible terms, like the Ukrainians and Turkmens, or the Moldovans and Chukchi, or the Belarusians and Buryats. It would be rather impossible to pack them all into one bag if there were not a common denominator—a Greater Russia.
One need not be an expert in critical discourse analysis to figure out that such a labeling is highly harmful in both political and cultural terms for all the parties involved. First, it mystifies the reality. It features the Russian/Soviet imperial legacy and post-imperial influence as the only or the main factor that determines virtually everything in today’s (under)development of post-Soviet republics. In some cases this factor is really important, in other cases many more historical and present-day variables are involved that, unfortunately, are neglected or undermined. Secondly, the ‘Eurasian’ labeling implicitly encourages Russian imperial feelings and great-power politics, endows it with some international legitimacy, and discursively resonates with the most chauvinistic, crypto-fascist tenets of today’s Russian ‘neo-Eurasianists’. And thirdly, it discursively excludes all the European nations of the former Soviet empire from Europe and effectively marginalizes pro-European forces in all these countries (including Russia itself), making them easy prey for Russian/pro-Russian profoundly anti-Western nationalists.
In other words, the term ‘Eurasia’ lacks not only precision (which is hardly achievable in any taxonomy) but also impartiality—and this is a very serious flaw in international politics, especially where it plays into the hands of a former empire that still seeks to re-establish its neocolonial dominance. Indeed, the main thing that the ‘Eurasian’ countries have in common (at least in the European realm of the former Soviet empire) is their profound internal divide between pro-Western and anti-Western forces—a divide that reflects not only opposite geopolitical orientations but also systems of values, historical narratives, and, still worse, national identities.
In this regard, Ukraine, and Moldova, and Belarus can be considered as ‘not-quite-European’. There is nothing wrong in admitting this fact—as an important factor that precludes their European integration and, probably, modernization. But labeling them ‘Eurasian’ is another matter. It means, in fact, interference in domestic ideological infighting and taking the side of ‘Eurasian’, pro-Russian, profoundly anti-European forces. It helps to shift a tough balance between rival parties in the ‘Eurasian’, anti-Western direction. No alternative to the term ‘Eurasian’ is perfect but, in most cases, the term ‘post-Soviet’ looks more precise and far more neutral than the term ‘Eurasian’.
Taking the Russian side
The power of labeling, othering, and exclusion inherent in presumably neutral geographic terms was noticed long before the classical studies by Edward Said, Larry Wolff, or Maria Todorova were published. Milan Kundera and his colleagues from Poland, Hungary, and Czechoslovakia had desperately rebelled against the term ‘Eastern Europe’ as allegedly excluding them from Europe as a family of free nations and placing them implicitly into a legitimate Soviet sphere of influence. ‘Eastern Europe’ became like a stigma that signified the inferiority of the region, its primordial backwardness, lack of political freedom, civic liberties, rule of law. To escape from this dangerous, disreputable place they invented the term ‘Central East Europe’, which included primarily Poland, Hungary and Czechoslovakia but was embraced also in Romania, Yugoslavia, West Ukraine, and the Baltics by local dissenting intellectuals.
It was a just attempt to overcome an exclusion imposed upon them by the dominant West European discourse. But their own discourse proved to be equally exclusivist vis-à-vis other East European neighbors. Slovenians claimed they had nothing to do with the ugly ‘Balkans’ because they had always been Central European. Croatians followed suit by becoming ‘Mediterranean’. The Balts declared they were ‘Nordic’ and certainly should not belong to the post-Soviet club since they had been occupied by the Soviets (as if Georgia or Ukraine or anybody else had joined the USSR voluntarily). All this made the renowned Canadian historian John-Paul Himka quip: “What’s the new geography? Western Europe, Central Europe and … Eurasia. Europe has a West, it has a Center, but holy cow! it has no East. Foucault would have loved this geographical gaping wound.”
Today [2010], as all the non-Soviet countries of the former Communist block have been either admitted to the EU or placed on a firm track towards membership, the process of othering and discursive exclusion/inclusion has changed its forms but not its essence. ‘Eurasianism’, in this respect, can be defined in a Saidian way as an attempt to control and manipulate the so-called ‘Eurasia’, which is merely a code-word for the post-Soviet republics. Russian ‘Eurasian’ discourse is aimed primarily at dominance over and re-integration of the post-Soviet space. Western ‘Eurasian’ discourse is aimed primarily at marginalization of the post-Soviet republics, their exclusion from the European project, and placing them within the Russian sphere of influence and, presumably, responsibility.
Ignorance might be one reason for such a Western approach. Neither Ukraine, nor Georgia, nor Belarus have ever existed on the mental maps of the Europeans. All these nations have been always perceived through the lenses of Russian historical myths broadly accepted in Western media and academia as ‘scientific truths’. The imperial likeness of big Western powers has also facilitated their uncritical acceptance of Russian imperialistic views of the ‘near abroad’. The alternative views and voices of the subaltern nations have been silenced, marginalized, or discredited as ‘nationalistic’.
Yet Realpolitik and, in particular, a notorious Russia-first policy pursued by major West European countries seem to play a decisive role in the exclusion of the post-Soviet nations of Eastern Europe from ‘European’ discourses and ceding them to the Moscow-centered discourse of ‘Eurasianism’. Perhaps the clearest, even though the most cynical, example of such reasoning comes from a staff columnist of the influential Asia Times daily, one Spengler:
The West has two choices: draw a line in the sand around Ukraine, or trade it to the Russians for something more important. My proposal is simple: Russia’s help in containing nuclear proliferation and terrorism in the Middle East is of infinitely greater import to the West than the dubious self-determination of Ukraine. The West should do its best to pretend that the ‘Orange’ revolution of 2004 and 2005 never happened, and secure Russia’s assistance in the Iranian nuclear issue as well as energy security in return for an understanding of Russia’s existential requirements in the near abroad […] Russia has an existential interest in absorbing Belarus and the Western [sic] Ukraine. No one cares about Belarus. It has never had an independent national existence or a national culture; the first grammar in the Belorussian language was not printed until 1918, and little over a third of the population of Belarus speaks the language at home. Never has a territory with 10 million people had a sillier case for independence. Given that summary, it seems natural to ask why anyone should care about Ukraine. That question is controversial; for the moment, I will offer the assertion that partition is the destiny of Ukraine” (August 19, 2008).
Virtually the same ideas, even though in a subtler form, can be found in numerous Western reports on political developments in Ukraine (as well as in Belarus). Neither of them is treated as a really sovereign nation, with its own particular interests that might be different from or even opposite to those of its former colonial master: “From the Baltic to the Black Sea, Russia is faced with NATO or would-be NATO states and, as a much invaded country, gets nervous about the future. Paradoxically in this situation the best result for the people in both countries [Belarus and Ukraine], at least in the short term would seem to be a vote [in forthcoming elections] against the Western tendency” (French News, March 2006).
Even though ‘Eurasian’ rhetoric is not employed explicitly in these statements, all their major premises are based on a strong belief that Ukraine is a natural part of some primordial Russian-Eurasian space: “The West must appreciate Ukraine’s historic closeness to Russia and realize that many Ukrainians consider themselves members of the East Slavic group, composed of Russians, Ukrainians and Belarusians” (Religious Intelligence, 16 June 2008).
A very frivolous if not overtly ignorant treatment of historical and geographical facts is a lesser problem of this type of writing. What is really striking here is a 19th century essentialism that looms large in the quoted texts. Even though Western ‘Eurasianists’ recognize, in most cases, that Ukrainian, Moldovan, and Belarusian societies are divided in their identities and geopolitical orientations, they not only unabashedly invent a Russian/pro-Russian (‘Eurasian’) majority where it barely exists but also claim that this very group, with such an identity, is ‘natural’ and ‘traditional’ while the alternative is alien and artificial, imposed by some sinister Westernizers.