Non-Linear War
Peter Pomerantsev
Vladislav Surkov is back. Back inside the ever-shrinking sanctum around Putin; on the elite list of Russian officials hit with visa bans and asset freezes in the west. The enemies who were so recently converging around Surkov, threatening charges of corruption and much more, have fallen silent. On 12 March, Surkov published a new short story, in Russky Pioneer (under his pseudonym Natan Dubovitsky). ‘Without Sky’ is set in the future, after the ‘fifth world war’. The story is told from the point of view of a child whose parents were killed in the war. He was brain damaged, and can only see and understand things in two dimensions:
There was no sky above our village. So we had to go to the city to see the moon and the birds. To the other side of the river. The city-dwellers didn’t like us. But they didn’t stop us. They even gave us one hilltop as a viewing platform, near the brick church. Because for some reason they thought us drunks, they put a beer stall there, next to the pay-per-view telescope and the police station.
I understand the city dwellers. They suffered much from the anger and jealousy of newcomers. And though we were offended that they thought us, their closest neighbours, strangers, I could understand them. And they understood us too. They didn’t force us out. Whatever their websites might say, they never forced us out...
Because everyone could understand it wasn’t our fault we lost the sky...The Marshalls of the four coalitions chose our sky for their great battle. The sky above our village was the best in the world. Flat. Cloudless. The sun poured over it in a smooth river. I remember the sun well. And the sky.
It’s no coincidence Surkov went for a war story: perpetual mobilisation is the new political model he and the other political technologists in the Kremlin are busy creating. Russian television is full of hysteria about enemies of the state, fascists taking over Ukraine in a rerun of the Second World War, the great conflict with the godless gay West. Any potential opposition has been branded as a fifth column (there’s even a website where good citizens can identify traitors), and the Liberal Democrat leader Vladimir Zhirinovsky wants to ban the letter ы for being foreign. For the moment the strategy is working: Putin’s ratings are up. The rhetoric began as a reaction against the protests of 2011-12, long before the current crisis in Ukraine, but events there fit conveniently into the Kremlin’s narrative of perpetual war.
Though it might be a disservice to Surkov the writer (he has his moments) to see his story as merely another piece of sly propaganda, he is always quietly massaging in the underlying mindset that makes the Kremlin’s war effort possible. The whole of the opening passage above pulls at the post-Soviet sense of common grievance mixed with irony, tragedy and nostalgia that unites the former empire far more than any of the new surface pronouncements about Russia’s ‘conservative mission’. The draw is not so much about nostalgia for Soviet success, but the feeling that ‘we survived it together.’ (Russian TV broadcasts ironic, gently anti-Soviet films from the 1970s to Ukraine and Moldova, keeping the ‘near abroad’ near, and makes a cult out of the anti-Soviet singer Vyssotsky.)
But ‘Without Sky’ does more than tug at the past, and its war is no ordinary conflict:
It was the first non-linear war. In the primitive wars of the 19th and 20th centuries it was common for just two sides to fight. Two countries. Two groups of allies. Now four coalitions collided. Not two against two, or three against one. No. All against all.
And what coalitions! Not like the ones you had before… It was rare for whole countries to enter. A few provinces would join one side, a few others a different one. One town or generation or gender would join yet another. Then they could switch sides, sometimes mid-battle.
Their aims were quite different. To take over a disputed coastal shelf. To forcefully introduce a new religion. Raise ratings. Try out new lasers. To stop humans being divided into men and women as gender differences undermine the unity of a nation.
Most understood the war to be part of a process. Not necessarily its most important part.
It’s naive to assume the Kremlin is simply stuck in a Cold War (or 19th-century) mindset. Annexing Crimea was rather a sign that Russia is so confident of its position in a globalised world that no one will dare to act against it: the US and EU cannot afford to impose meaningful sanctions (or so the Kremlin hopes). The Kremlin takes – or projects – a paranoid view of globalisation. A sense of global conspiracies, of higher, hidden powers manipulating the world, is one of the main ways it’s selling the war inside Russia: even many among the urban middle classes who are sceptical about Putin can nevertheless be convinced that shadowy forces were behind the revolution in Ukraine. The cynicism that Russians justifiably feel about Soviet and post-Soviet politics can easily be spun into a conspiracy-driven vision of everything that happens in the world. (From another angle the above passage is a good description of internal Ukrainian and internal Kremlin politics.)
As a smiling Surkov left the hall in the Kremlin after Putin’s ‘reuniting Russian soil’ speech on 18 March, he was stopped by a reporter from TV Rain, which like much independent media is being squeezed to death by the Kremlin. The reporter asked Surkov about the sanctions list he has been placed on by the West. ‘Won’t this ban affect you?’ the reporter asked. ‘Your tastes point to you being a very Western person.’
Surkov smiled and pointed to his head: ‘I can fit Europe in here.’
He later said: ‘I see the decision by the administration in Washington as an acknowledgment of my service to Russia. It’s a big honour for me. I don’t have accounts abroad. The only things that interest me in the US are Tupac Shakur, Allen Ginsberg and Jackson Pollock. I don’t need a visa to access their work. I lose nothing.’
And yet, right at the end of the interview with TV Rain, his firmness seemed to be undermined by an odd laugh – was it rueful?
At the end of 'Without Sky', the boy sets out on a do-or-die mission:
Our very thoughts lost their height. Became two dimensional. We understand only ‘yes’ and ‘no’, ‘black and white’... So we couldn’t survive, needed permanent looking after. But we were dumped. Were left unemployed, without benefits... So we had to unite to survive. We created a society. Organised a rebellion of two-dimensional people against the complex and cunning. We are against those who never say ‘yes’ or ‘no’... who know the third word. There are many third words... confusing the ways, darkening truth… in these darknesses and cobwebs hides and multiplies all the dirt of the world. They are the house of Satan. There they make money and bombs... We begin tomorrow. We will win. Or lose. A third is not available.
It’s a deliberate tease of an ending: where does Surkov, a master of the ‘third word’ himself, fit in with all of this?
The day before Surkov’s travel ban to the EU was set to kick in on 21 March, his wife’s Instagram account showed them enjoying themselves in Stockholm, along with members of the Russian jet set.
‘I would take a close look at Surkov, his Stockholm photos,’ the hugely influential journalist Oleg Kashin wrote, speculating on who would be the first of Putin’s inner circle to break ranks. ‘He will hardly like the prospect of imaginary membership in the Ozero Co-operative [of Putin's cronies] with its real consequences... Putin has turned into the hero of a thriller, who doesn’t yet know from which dark corner he should expect threats. There is expectation of the first betrayal – the Americans have made that the chief factor in Russian politics.’
Comments
Putin and 'many among the urban middles classes' are right. Shadowy forces were behind the [counter-]revolution in Ukraine.
Putin's actions are defensive, not offensive. Since 1990, Russia has faced the betrayal by the US and its satraps in the guise of the endless expansion of NATO. Georgia and Ukraine were the last key dominoes to fall. Georgia and Ukraine as merely entrées for the dismantling of Russia itself. Yugoslavia as Exhibit A.
Then no resistance will be met in the dismantling of Syria, then of Lebanon and on to Iran. And the winners are?
That Putin is crushing potential vibrancy and freedoms in Russia is obvious, and tragic. But that's what happened during the Cold War I, on both sides of the Iron Curtain. Indeed, some cynics (Chomsky?) earlier suggested that this domestic repression might have been the dominant thrust of Cold War I. And it's happening again in Cold War II (or as far as the NeoCons are concerned, Cold War I reheated), again on both sides of the divide. But Putin is not the lead actor in this resurrection of the show.
Is everybody in anglo land now suckling on the Telegraph's milk?
Then there are the misleading analogies. Yugoslavia? More or less dismantled by its own rival nationalities and clever ex-communists, who suddenly allied themselves with old-fashioned chauvinists (and a few “fascists”) -- after all, the Party bosses and the apparatchiks were the only folks with actual political experience. The fact that many of these politicians (especially in Serbia and Croatia) drove separatist events in order to aggrandize their careers and gain control of what might happen next is irrelevant to the fact that the nationalities themselves wanted the dissolution of the Yugoslavian state for the same reason they wanted it 90 years ago. That’s right, within five years of joining the “Kingdom of the Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes” (soon to be renamed Yugoslavia) in 1918-19, the Croats and Slovenes were already regretting their decision, and interwar politics in that country was driven by these rivalries. Read a little real history, farthington, and stop fretting over the sinister, shadowy, unnamed powers behind the scenes. For a variety of reasons only Tito (a man whose vices matched his virtues) was able to hold this fragile and artificial entity together, and its dissolution started the day after his death. The specter that always loomed in the minds of its Slovene, Croat, Macedonian, Bosnian-Muslim, and Albanian Kosovar citizens was not communism (a fait accompli after 1945) but that of “Greater Serbianism”.
How about I rewrite the choice portions of farthington’s stupefying third paragraph: “Since 1990 Russia has faced the entirely internal consequences of a legacy of 70 years of misrule and the cultivation of a class of thugs and kleptocrats who were once validated by “communism” and are now validated by “capitalism”. It was, in other words, a thoroughly corrupt and incompetent society led by men who specialized in theft and other pernicious behaviors. It had, of course, to come to terms with nationalities it formerly repressed who were naturally attracted to NATO membership in order to defend their independence from a likely revival of Russian imperialism, but it refused to shoulder this burden in any sensible or rational way. It preferred the path of paranoia.” Well, it’s tendentious, no doubt about that, but a little closer to the truth than farthington’s version of reality, which seems heavily ideologically blinkered.
And then there is this eyebrow- aiser: “Then no resistance will be met in the dismantling of Syria, then of Lebanon and on to Iran. And the winners are?” Which leaves the obvious question not only unanswered but not even posed: If the Syrian pre-rebellion status quo is restored, who will be the winners? The Syrian people? Don’t make me laugh.
And, finally, the encroachments by their own governments on American and other western-nation civil liberties during the Cold War (it did happen) are not even in the same ballpark as Russian official attitudes and practices when it comes to the responding to the behavior (and thought-crimes) of its citizens. It’s a pea versus a bowling ball. Please, farthington, get real, as they say on the streets.
In the meantime, Mr.Pomerantsev and Mr. Timothy Rogers could learn something about why Putin feels the way he feels concerning the Ukraine just by reading Anderson's brief summary of Mr Brzezinsky's book, The Grand Chessboard, which appeared in these pages not so long ago: http://www.lrb.co.uk/v21/n23/perry-anderson/a-ripple-of-the-polonaise It would be better, of course, if they read the whole book.
For example, on 17 March, Russia's Foreign Ministry issued a 'Statement on a Support Group for Ukraine', which the Financial Times described as:
Russia's 'first offer of a negotiated solution'.
The FT story continues:
'The document appeared to make clear that Russia’s main “red line” was future Nato membership for Ukraine, after the toppling of president Viktor Yanukovich last month and the arrival of a pro-western government in Kiev.
'Mr [Dmitri] Trenin[, head of the Moscow Carnegie Centre,] said it was unlikely that Kiev or the West would agree to that. “Which means that, for the foreseeable future, Ukraine will be a geopolitical battleground,” he added.'
-- Kathrin Hille & Neil Buckley, 'Russia's First Offer for Talks Dismissed', FT, 18 March 2014, p. 7.
Russia is not innocent here: its use of force will make the idea of Nato membership more appealing to Ukrainians who see the need for some form of protection (until now, most were opposed to joining). Still, this is an important dimension of the present tensions, and one overlooked by most Western media reports.
So, what does the preceding have to do with actual events on the ground in the region sometimes called Central Europe? The answer is unknown (or at least, I don’t know). Is it all just ancient history that becomes more irrelevant with each passing year? Perhaps, perhaps not. The disintegration of Yugoslavia seemed to revive many of the specific animosities and the language of national self-definition that characterized events in the region during the late Habsburg years and their immediate aftermath during the interwar years, as if the “return of the repressed” could be applied to whole societies as well as individuals. In distinction to this revival of old competing claims, as communism imploded, then vanished, The Poles gave up their claims to lands east of the 1945 boundary set by the USSR, in return for which they expected Germany to give up its claims on the parts of Germany that were now in Poland (not just East Prussia, most of which is now the Russian enclave of Kaliningrad [Koenigsberg] but also the long strip of Silesia that had been heavily Germanized during the previous 200 years). This was a linked process in their minds that would be necessary for Poland’s integration into a Europe that would respect its current boundaries. And, so far, this yielding by both nations has proved successful.
As Ash pointed out, during the post-WWII era “Central Europe” as an organizing concept had been banned from public discussion for two very different reasons. First, it had bad connotations due to the way Hitler grabbed onto the notion of a totally German-dominated Mitteleuropa. Second, it was taboo in the USSR and enforced as such in its satellite states, where history had to be rewritten to be friendly and appreciative of Russia’s role in the region, though few of the locals actually believed the official version of reality. And, as he also noted, it was not clear if Central Europe as an idea meant much at all to many or most of the citizens of the nations that formed it – it was a term used by political and cultural intellectuals in order to abate Russian influence and turn to the west. It meant a lot to Kundera and some of his counterparts in Poland and Hungary.
A good place to see what a “Central European sensibility” is meant to look and sound like is Pavel Vilikovsky’s short story, “Everything I Know about Central Europeanism (With a Little Friendly Help from Olomouc and Camus” (translated from Slovak into English by C. D. Sabatos). The narrator of this story, on his way to that Moravian city to act as a judge in a "Miss People's Democracy" beauty contest, meets the French philosopher at the Brno train station. They travel together and exchange views on Central Europe, about which the narrator has mixed feelings and resentments over being pigeonholed by outside observers. Of course the writer-narrator of this story may be caught in a trap that he sets himself – or perhaps just a verbal double-bind with an ironical design – by his gloomy meditations on the misuse by others of "Central Europe" as a place evoking gloomy meditations. In response to this Vilikovský’s fictional Camus would say, "how very Central European!", indicating that he too is snared in the same conceptual loop. As is fitting in a dialogue with the renowned author of ““The Myth of Sisyphus, the narrator points out that in his part of the world (Central Europe) the ancients and Camus got it slightly wrong – not only does man constantly return the boulder to the top of the mountain, he carries it back down too. The authorities – who are god-like in this respect – would never let it roll down the hill when they can extract some more pointless work from their subjects; extracting pointless work is a both a sign and a perquisite of divinity, especially in its incarnation in the Party’s leadership. This is all very funny in a bleak, farcical way, and perhaps Central Europe will wind up as a conceit used only by writers – but don’t bet on it yet, because the idea might still prove to have some political utility and even be attractive to those Ukrainians whose ancestors participated in its life over the centuries.