A fundamental question that remains central to understanding Russia concerns the nature of Russian statehood. Is Putin’s regime a particular manifestation of Russia’s authentic — perhaps even its only possible — “hardcore” condition, to which the country will inevitably return after any temporary “lighter” deviations? Or is Russia capable of other stable, long-term forms of existence in which it poses a threat neither to itself nor to those around it?
From a strictly practical perspective, this is far from an abstract question. The answer will shape security policy towards Russia, at least in Europe, for decades to come.
One scenario follows if Russia’s fundamental nature is immutable and, under different names and political systems, the country will continue, for as long as it exists, to produce some of the worst forms of totalitarian, militarised society, inclined towards permanent external aggression.
The scenario is entirely different if we accept, at least in principle, the possibility of an alternative Russia — one that does not fit into the paradigm of the oprichnina, Bolshevism, Putinism, and so on.
A direct and honest answer to the question of whether Russia can be fundamentally different from what it is today — not merely for a decade and a half, but in a lasting sense — is therefore a cornerstone of Europe’s security architecture in the first half of the 21st century.
Regardless of whether we are prepared to answer that question here and now, it is important to recognise it as fundamental: one that requires careful examination and deserves a broad public debate.
I am not prepared to say that I have reached a definitive answer of my own. Like everyone else, I am confronted with an enormous body of contradictory historical evidence.
For now, however, I lean towards the view that an “Alternative for Russia” is possible.
Below, I will outline the factors that lead me towards this conclusion rather than the opposite one. At the same time, I am genuinely prepared to listen to the arguments of those who, looking at the same historical record, reach the opposite conclusion.
- The fifth year of the war launched by Russia is hardly the best moment for an objective assessment of the nature of Russian society and state power. At such a time, the country’s entire preceding history can appear merely as the prehistory of the catastrophe — a chain of facts and events whose clear and direct consequence was aggression.
The same happened with Germany, whose entire history was once interpreted as preparation for Hitler’s rise to power. It happened with France, whose history could be seen as little more than a prelude to the Napoleonic Wars. And today, the same is happening with Russia.
In retrospect, however, such interpretations of a country’s history and prospects have proved one-sided. I would therefore hesitate to conclude that Russian aggression is historically predetermined simply under the pressure of the immediate circumstances created by Putin’s war. On the contrary, I would try to abstract from those circumstances when considering the broader historical question.
- The Russian historical tradition is indeed anti-democratic, imperial and militaristic — something that is difficult to deny. But these characteristics have been common to all global empires, each of which, at a certain stage in its history and in its own way, sought to overcome them — and almost none succeeded completely.
The fact that Russia, as an empire, has lagged behind in this development and has so far achieved little progress does not necessarily mean that this path is closed to it or that it is fundamentally incapable of overcoming its anti-democratic and expansionist tendencies. Perhaps it simply has not yet had enough historical time.
- At the same time, the Russian political tradition is not exclusively imperial and militaristic. For the sake of objectivity, it should be acknowledged that Russia also has a humanist and democratic tradition stretching back more than two centuries.
It was never the dominant tradition, of course, but it was strong enough to produce several major democratic transformations and revolutions, both from above and from below, including perestroika.
Ultimately, the peaceful self-determination of the former Soviet republics, the largely peaceful character of the revolutions in Eastern Europe, and even the relatively smooth reunification of the two German states did not come about through bitter struggles for independence comparable to the Anglo-Boer War. They resulted largely from an internal movement for political liberation within Russian society itself, which at that historical moment supported the national liberation aspirations of the empire’s periphery and its satellite states.
- Even today, it is impossible to draw straightforward conclusions about the true condition of Russian society or the attitudes prevailing within it. What we see on the surface is the product of historical inertia and state propaganda, multiplied by an enormous fear of repression.
At the same time, the processes unfolding beneath the surface of public consciousness are contradictory and moving in different directions. A powerful imperial tendency increasingly encounters a countervailing demand for justice, democratisation and modernisation.
Which of these tendencies will become dominant if the post-totalitarian system breaks down will depend on many factors. In any case, the outcome cannot be predicted with certainty.
- The condition of Russia’s elites is even more ambiguous than that of Russian society as a whole. The authorities’ proclaimed Drang nach Osten in reality inspires relatively few people.
Much of the elite continues to see itself culturally as a distinct but nevertheless integral part of Europe — which is only natural — and experiences the rupture with Europe painfully, regarding it as a historical oxymoron.
The breakdown of the current system would most likely release this aspiration among the elites from existing political constraints and could turn it into a new structural force shaping Russia’s development.
