HOW TO TALK WITH RUSSIA?

By: Kadri Liik, senior policy fellow at European Council on Foreign Relations (ECFR).

Edited by AALEP

Russia and the West have fundamentally different understandings not only of what constitutes acceptable international behaviour, but also of the goals and “natural” drivers that underpin it. And we are unable to have a direct conversation about our differences. Different frameworks combined with miscommunication have grown, over time, into self-perpetuating antagonistic narratives.

In this context of cultural alienation, is it still possible to talk to Russia, and what would that take?

This is the question that now plagues the EU.  EU discussions are all too often driven by bureaucratic political logic. A desire to have “a positive conversation” alongside (or instead of) sanctions, fosters the hope that, if engaged positively, Russia will mellow and a “new deal” might be found that turns Russia towards co-operation again. In the latter context, cooperation between the EU and Eurasian Economic Union is often mentioned as a potential deal-maker.

While the desire to have “a positive conversation” is in itself understandable, and cooperative co-existence with Russia should definitely remain Europe’s long-term strategic goal, a shallow approach to the issue holds considerable dangers. Our differences run so deep that they cannot be papered over with another bureaucratic initiative, however well-intentioned. Worse still, in the context of mutual miscommunication, raising expectations based on false assumptions will not just lead to disappointment. Given our history of disillusionment, each future disappointment is likely to be more emotional than the last, and cause a more dangerous backlash. 

That Russia wants to be treated as “an equal” is a phrase that often comes up in conversations with Russian policymakers and experts. However, the definition of “equal” is elusive. Institutionally, one could argue that Russia has been treated as more than equal: it has been admitted to all the Western organisations it wished to join without necessarily qualifying for them. The West has also done its utmost to link Russia up with the EU and NATO as a like-minded “strategic partner”. But Russia still feels less than equal and humiliated. How come?

For Moscow, being “equal” means having the right to set and tweak the rules, not just to advance its own interests within the post-Cold War European system with its common set of rules. It means having geopolitical veto rights and uncritical acceptance of the nature and practices of its domestic regime.

Contrary to what many would claim, Russia is not an expansionist power. It does not want to dominate the world, conquer Europe or even restore the Soviet Union. But it wants a sphere of control in the area that the EU calls its Eastern neighbourhood, and it wants spheres of control as such to be accepted as an organising principle of international life. Russia does not have an ambitious global agenda: its approach to the Asia-Pacific region is inspired more by its Western and great power relationships than by any local context. Likewise, its actions in the Middle East have less to do with the region itself than with Moscow’s counter-revolutionary stance and the “principle of inviolability of regimes”. These are issues that have troubled Russia in the Western context, rather than the Eastern one, as Russia views the West as having engineered most of the popular revolutions of the last few decades.

While these actions do not constitute a global challenge to the West – reminiscent of the Cold War times – they do nevertheless constitute a sharp clash of paradigms that is bound to manifest itself again and again.

This clash is magnified by the accompanying misunderstandings and miscommunications. Decision-makers in Russia view Western actions through their own paradigms: they seem to sincerely believe that the West is engineering “colour revolutions” with the aim of weakening Russia’s sphere of influence and strengthening its own. They suspect that the ultimate goal is to bring about regime change in Russia.

The West in turn has until recently been largely oblivious of the extent to which Russia sees the world and its working principles differently. It has interpreted Russia’s actions as aberrations, misunderstandings, or as inspired by domestic  considerations.

Russia has an interesting double-track behaviour when it comes to rules and norms. While it can be very rigid and legalistic in clinging to the letter of the law, it can also freely ignore its spirit. It can also use the letter of the law to evade the spirit. But such behaviour is often driven by Russia’s notion that by so doing, it in fact engages with the “real conversation,” beneath the veneer of public norms.

In the absence of a workable policy with an acceptable price tag, what should Western dialogue with Russia look like? Counter intuitively, we should start the Russia-West conversations not with commonalities – as would be a diplomat’s instinct – but on the differences.

The primary aim of communication should be to rationalise the context and to agree on the nature of disagreements. If this could be achieved, then the differences would still be there, but they would be less dangerous. Once Moscow is convinced that even though the West tries to defend its principles in Ukraine, it is not in fact plotting an attack on Moscow, then the chances of a pre-emptive attack on Western allies or assets would be much reduced. Likewise, once Russia is convinced that even though the West may be desperate for cooperation with Russia, it is ready to be tough when it comes to defending some basic principles, then the danger of a “next Ukraine” will be much reduced.

On the institutional level, we should consider re-shaping some of the discussion formats to suit today’s needs. Most, if not all formats that unite Russia and the West are based on the assumption that we share interests or even values. That has been the source of much frustration on both sides. Russia has felt permanently criticised, while Western allies have felt they need to choose between good relations with Russia and their sense of truth. We could get rid of that frustration by redesigning the discussion in ways that do not imply like-mindedness.

We should also try to engage with Russia’s civil society, even though the Kremlin has made it difficult.  Some Russian NGOs are remarkably active and well-organised, and clearly incubators of Russia’s future elite.  Their activities in Russia are hindered, but many have branched out to the West, while still maintaining influence in Russia. Europe should support such organisations and socialise the activists into Western discussions. For the time being, it is impossible to reach out to wider Russian audiences who are recipients of the information the Kremlin chooses. But NGO activists are usually eager to have contacts. And it is they who will almost certainly become opinion leaders in Russia when the TV dictatorship ends.

We should also continue the conversation with Russia’s expert circles. While many experts undoubtedly serve as spokespersons for the regime, many others have retained a desire to actually understand events, and some are balancing between the two. It may be hard to change these people’s minds, but it is possible for good personal relationships to emerge, which – at time of crises – will be useful to get a better understanding of the other side’s thinking and policy drivers.

In short, Europe should launch a multi-layered conversation with Russia about our differences without the immediate aim of solving them via some grand bargain. We should talk about differences in order to rationalise them. To compartmentalise the relationship and find areas for co-operation would still be fine, but only if such co-operation is understood by both sides for what it is. But embarking on a symbolic positive project in the framework of misunderstandings will be dangerous, as raised expectations, if unfounded, are bound to generate a dangerous backlash – more dangerous each time it re-occurs.