Deciphering the Russian Bear: An Ottoman Perspective (Part I)

With the conflict in Ukraine having moved beyond Crimea into the eastern part of the country, and with the chilling prospect of a Russian intervention seemingly looming as the Ukrainian military begins to make progress against the separatists, a term thought to be a relic of the past has found its way back onto the lips of writers, journalists, academics and politicians: imperialism.  More to the point, many have called Russia’s involvement in Ukraine imperialism in its most classic form, with places like Mariupol, Slavyansk, and Donetsk becoming household names, at least among geopoliticos.  What’s perplexing, however, is that people seem to be surprised by Russia’s apparently imperialistic ambitions to disrupt, sever, and ultimately annex its neighbour a piece at a time.

   by  Imaginary Museum Projects: News Tableaus 

The fact of the matter is that Russia has been an imperialist power for more than 300 years, and though perhaps not as obviously successful at it as, say, 19^th century Great Britain or France, one could easily argue that Russia has been one of the most adaptable imperial powers the world has ever seen.  Russian ambitions have long been able to shape the country’s domestic politics into useful imperial tool.  You would think that the collapse of Czarist Russia with the Bolshevik Revolution would have dampened the imperial impulse, but the reality is that Soviet leaders merely replaced the ideology that they were using toward that end.  Between the end of WWII and the end of the Cold War, the USSR merely masked Russian imperial ambitions for territorial and sphere-of-influence expansion with a communist ideology, which cleverly spoke to more people around the world and thus extended Russia’s reach beyond the traditional reach of the old Russian Empire.  To see a few examples of this, we need only look at the conflicts in Korea, Vietnam, and the ever-present Arab-Israeli conflict (which continues to an extent to this day with Russian support for Bashar al-Assad’s Syrian regime), among others.

Even if the ideology were to change depending on Russia’s internal circumstances, given that Russia’s overall goals have remained the same, it is reasonable to assume that Russia’s tactics for achieving those goals would also remain consistent, albeit adapted to contemporary circumstances.  So what are these tactics?  Simply put: divide and conquer in its purest form, often deliberate but occasionally opportunistic.

How does one apply the axiom of divide and conquer to the real world?  In the case of Russia, this routinely revolves around minorities, be they religious, ethnic, linguistic, or even class-based (in certain historical cases).  In almost every situation, Russian leadership identifies a strategic objective, long-term or short-term, in another (usually) neighbouring country that will serve Russia’s interests.  The next stage is the identification or construction of a disaffected or repressed minority which can be manipulated and drawn into Russia’s orbit.  This minority is then encouraged to seek better rights for itself, autonomy, and often ultimately independence from its host country, with Russia encouraging it every step of the way and actively or passively defending it in cases of pushback from that host.  With Russia acting as a protector of said minority, if and when it is able to achieve a measure of autonomy, it is often encouraged to then declare outright independence, naturally with Russian support.  As a result, a Russia acquires, at the very least, a puppet or buffer state, which is often ultimately annexed into Russia proper.  Historically, this has been Russia’s traditional approach to expanding its sphere of influence and indeed its territory (e.g., the Ottoman Empire, Georgia in 2008, present day Ukraine (first Crimea and now the eastern part of the country), and potentially even the Baltics).  Occasionally though, the expansion is less deliberate and more opportunistic, such as in the case where Russia intervenes in a region, usually (though not necessarily) where its chosen minority is being oppressed in some manner, real or manufactured, and then simply doesn’t leave once the minority’s rights and well-being have been secured, a classic example of which is the expansion of the Soviet Union to include Eastern Europe post-WWII.

A Satirical View of Europe from 1877

One example mentioned above is a representative model of Russia’s divide and conquer tactics over an extended period: the Ottoman Empire.  If we look at Ottoman-Russian relations over the course of the 18^th and 19^th centuries, Russia’s actions seem to fit this pattern of using minorities against a majority for strategic gain in a very clear way, particularly in the final decades of the Ottoman Empire which ultimately succumbed in WWI.  Russia during this period saw itself as the protector of the Orthodox Christian and Slavic populations of the Ottoman Empire, or at least portrayed itself as such.  Indeed, many of Russia’s 19^th century wars against the Ottomans were launched using the pretext of some repression or suppression of a Christian minority, real or imagined.  Or, and perhaps more important in today’s context, in the case of Russia’s involvement in Crimea, the pretext of defending Orthodox locals against the predations of an Ottoman vassal (the Khanate of the Crimean Tatars), beginning in 1735.

How well Christian minorities in the Ottoman Empire were treated was directly tied to how powerful the Ottoman state was perceived to be.  Indeed, during the earlier days of the Ottoman Empire, when it was expanding rapidly at the expense of older, more established neighbouring empires, many such regional minorities flocked to the Ottoman banner to one degree or another in the hopes of securing a guarantor of sorts.  While Ottoman authority was strong, these minorities were often restive, or at least had no real ambitions beyond advancing themselves within the Ottoman system, which was simply accepted as the lay of the land.  With the decay of the Ottoman Empire, however, these Renaissance-era loyalties began to weaken as well, creating an almost symbiotic relationship between Orthodox Christian Ottoman subjects and the new kid on the block, namely Russia.  The push for rights and later autonomy by these millets, though justifiable and indeed necessary if the Ottoman state was to reform itself to adapt to changing circumstances, were quickly coopted by an expansionist Russia.  In effect, some Orthodox minorities saw which way the wind was blowing and sought to look after their own interests, which included drawing support from Russia against an Ottoman government that they felt no longer served those interests.  In many cases, it remains unclear (or at least heavily politicized) to what degree Russia was involved in creating the initial unrest, though this definitely cannot be ruled out.  That said, once the unrest developed in a formerly restive minority, Russia’s willingness to use this for its own purposes was (and is) quite evident.

Nor did this tactic fall into disuse when the Czarist Russian Empire collapsed during WWI with the October Revolution of 1917.  Instead it evolved from an emphasis on a Slavic or Orthodox identity to a focus on a more social and economic identity: the global proletariat.  Moreover, the tactic of divide and conquer by pushing self-determination for minorities didn’t go away with the collapse of the USSR either.  Interestingly enough, it seems to have reverted back to the old Slavic/Orthodox Christian emphasis, just with a new twist: Russian language ties.  The prevalence of the Russian language in the USSR left many pockets of Russian-speakers (and actual ethnic Russians in some areas) across many of its former territories.  We need only look at the fact that Azeris, Armenians, Poles, Ukrainians, and even people from Baltic countries and Central Asia can communicate with one another in the Russian language, despite having very different ethnic and native linguistic backgrounds.

So what does all this mean?  Simply put, history and the present-day conflict in Ukraine show that there is a common method to Russia’s actions over the last 300+ years, which is merely adapted to suit contemporary realities.  It’s actually quite understandable.  After all, if something has worked so well in the past, why not keep using it?  And it has indeed been quite effective.  The divide and conquer tactics that Russia has regularly used have given that country a political weight that far surpasses the traditional measures of power such as military might and economic strength, both of which Russia has never possessed in a significant manner at the same time (except maybe during WWII because of a wartime economy feeding a military machine).  In essence, Russia’s actions vis-à-vis its neighbours are a poor man’s empire-building tools.  Not possessing overwhelming conventional military power or a particularly resilient and strong economy, Russia has traditionally not been able to pursue its interests in the same blatant manner as its contemporary competitors (whoever they may be).  As such, it has always sought to expand its sphere of influence in a more subtle manner than pure conquest, namely by turning a local population against its rival and then breaking off a piece at a time.  This requires more patience, but less in the way of resources, and shifts much of the risk off of Russia and onto the local population that it is manipulating.  But with patience comes habit, and if Russia’s actions in Ukraine are any indication, old habits are hard to break, especially if one doesn’t want to.  And really, nobody should be surprised that Russia is just being the Russia that history has shown that it is.

As of the publishing of this article the blame game over who is responsible for shooting down Malaysia Airlines flight MH17 in the skies over Ukraine’s Donetsk region continues, and OSCE investigators are still being denied access to the crash site by the local separatist militias.  My heart goes out to those who have lost family and friends in this tragedy, and I hope politics can be put aside for the sake of bringing justice for the 298 people who lost their lives and closure for their loved ones.