The Rebuilding of Greater Russia: Putin's Foreign Policy Towards the CIS Countries

The Rebuilding of Greater Russia

This book describes the strategies used by President Putin from 2000 onwards to recreate ‘Greater Russia’, that is, a Russia that controls most of the territory of the former Soviet Union. It shows the subtlety of the means of control, often through creating economic dependencies in the ‘near abroad’, including exploiting energy dependency, through prolonging other political and military dependencies, and sometimes through traditional ‘power politics’. It argues that after seven years in power the results of this strategy are beginning to show. It provides comprehensive coverage of Russia’s relations to the former Soviet territories of the CIS countries, including Ukraine and Putin’s role in the events surrounding the ‘Orange Revolution’, Belarus and the attempts to form a union, the Caucasus and Russia’s role in the various conflicts, Moldova, including the Transdniester conflict, and Central Asia. This is an important subject, for international relations scholars generally, not just Russian studies experts. Bertil Nygren is Associate Professor of Political Science at the Swedish National Defence College and the Department of Political Science, Stockholm University. His research interests focus on politics in Russia and the CIS countries, security, strategy and international relations. His publications include Russia as a Great Power, Dimensions of Security Under Putin (edited by Jakob Hedenskog, Vilhelm Konnander, Bertil Nygren, Ingmar Oldberg and Christer Pursiainen), Routledge, 2005.

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The Rebuilding of Greater Russia Putin’s foreign policy towards the CIS countries

Bertil Nygren

First published 2008 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2007. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2008 Bertil Nygren All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN 0-203-93990-5 Master e-book ISBN ISBN10: 0-415-43600-1 (hbk) ISBN10: 0-203-93990-5 (ebk) ISBN13: 978-0-415-43600-7 (hbk) ISBN13: 978-0-203-93990-1 (ebk)

To Olga

Contents

Acknowledgements List of abbreviations Map

xi xii xiv

PART I

The Russian regional security complex and Russian foreign policy towards the CIS countries 1 Introduction

1 3

1.1 The general idea and purpose of the book 3 1.2 Regional security complexes – concepts and application 9 1.3 The birth of Greater Russia – history 12 1.4 Russia and its place in the world at the turn of the millennium – the greater picture 17 1.5 Putin and his strategic starting point in 2000 19 1.6 The structure of the book 22 2 The regional organizations of the Russia-led regional security complex 2.1 Russia and the CIS and other regional organizations – introduction 24 2.2 The CIS as a means of defence integration – the Collective Security Treaty 31 2.3 The CIS as a means of economic integration – the Single Economic Space 37 2.4 The Shanghai Cooperation Organization and other regional organizations 41 2.5 CIS and other regional organizations – summary and conclusions 44

24

viii

Contents

PART II

Russia and the European security sub-complex – relations with Belarus, Ukraine and Moldova 3 Russia and Ukraine 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6 3.7

66

Introduction and general developments 66 The Russia–Belarus Union idea under Yeltsin 67 The changing Union idea under Putin 70 Military and defence cooperation 74 Other political issues in Russia–Belarus relations 75 Energy issues 76 Belarus presidential elections in spring 2006 79 Russia–Belarus relations – summary and conclusions 80

5 Russia and Moldova 5.1 5.2 5.3 5.4 5.5 5.6

49

Introduction and general developments 49 The NATO enlargement issue in Ukraine 54 The Russia–Ukraine border issue 56 Trade and economic cooperation 58 Energy issues 59 Ukraine elections – the ‘orange revolution’ 62 Russia–Ukraine relations – summary and conclusions 64

4 Russia and Belarus 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5 4.6 4.7 4.8

47

82

Introduction and general developments 82 Russia and the Transdniester conflict 86 Politico-cultural issues – ‘language politics’ 94 Politico-economic issues – trade and energy issues 96 Moldova, NATO and the EU 99 Russia–Moldova relations – summary and conclusions 99

PART III

Russia and the Caucasus security sub-complex – relations with Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia and the regional conflicts

101

6 The Nagorno-Karabakh conflict

105

7 Russia and Azerbaijan

110

Contents

ix

8 Russia and Armenia

114

9 Russia and Georgia

119

9.1 9.2 9.3 9.4 9.5 9.6 9.7

Introduction and general developments 119 Russia and the Chechen problem in Georgia 125 Russian military bases in Georgia 131 Russia and the Abkhazia conflict 133 Russia and the South Ossetia conflict 144 Energy issues – gas and electricity 150 Russia and Georgia – summary and conclusions 152

10 The Caucasus, the EU, NATO and the United States

154

10.1 Caucasus, NATO and the United States 154 10.2 Caucasus and the EU 158 PART IV

Russia and the Asian regional sub-complex – relations with Kyrgyztan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan

161

11 The Caspian Sea basin – borders, oil and gas

167

12 Russia and Kazakhstan

175

12.1 12.2 12.3 12.4

Introduction and general developments 175 Defence and security 176 Economic cooperation, trade and energy issues 177 Other bilateral problems 179

13 Russia and Kyrgyztan 13.1 13.2 13.3 13.4

Introduction and general developments 182 Defence and security 183 Economic cooperation, trade and energy issues 184 Other bilateral problems 185

14 Russia and Tajikistan 14.1 14.2 14.3 14.4

182

Introduction and general developments 188 Defence and security 189 Economic cooperation, trade and energy issues 193 Other bilateral problems 194

188

x

Contents

15 Russia and Uzbekistan

196

15.1 Introduction and general developments 196 15.2 Defence and security 197 15.3 Economic cooperation, trade and energy issues 200 16 Russia and Turkmenistan

202

16.1 Introduction and general developments 202 16.2 Politico-cultural problems 203 16.3 Economic cooperation, trade and energy issues 204 17 Central Asia, China, NATO and the United States

207

PART V

Russia as a regional great power – analysis of the past and future of Putin’s attempt to rebuild Greater Russia – objectives, strategies, policies, instruments and prospects for success

217

18 Conclusions

219

18.1 Putin – country by country, summary of developments in Russia’s relations with CIS organizations and with individual CIS countries 219 18.2 Putin – regional security complex by complex, developments in Russian relations with the three regional security complexes – the larger picture 225 18.3 The politico-military, politico-economic and politico-cultural arenas and the instruments applied – banks or tanks? 231 18.4 Russia’s relations to the Russia-led security complex – after Putin 248 Notes References Index

251 273 315

Acknowledgements

This book has been in the making since Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin became president of the Russian Federation on 1 January 2000 and is the result of many work hours since then. As the ultimate source of inspiration for the book, I am grateful to President Vladimir Putin for his many invigorating speeches. I am also grateful to Radio Free Europe and Radio Liberty for their frequent quoting of President Putin and the other presidents of the CIS countries, without which the work would have been immensely more tiresome, and to the many analysts at Eurasia Insight, Moscow Times and RFE/RL who have inspired me. I am also grateful to my two organizational homesteads which have made the research for this book possible and to the inspiration found among colleagues there, the Department of Political Science at Stockholm University and the Institute of Security and Strategy at the Swedish National Defence College. I am particularly grateful to Professor Bo Huldt who gave me the initial push and resources to write about Russia again after too many years of absence from research, and to Professor Jan Hallenberg who has generously provided me with time and resources to remain on that research track. A rudimentary language editing has been done by Susanna Lindberg who has saved me from some embarrassing language mistakes. Needless to say, the person to whom I devote the book, my wife Olga, has been the ultimate inspiration to go ahead with the research and finalize the book. Some of the ideas presented in this book have been presented at various conferences and also published in various research reports at the Swedish National Defence College (e.g. Nygren 2002a, 2003) as well as in some recent anthologies (Nygren 2005a, 2005b, 2006, 2007a, 2007b). Bertil Nygren Stockholm

Abbreviations

ABM BTC BTE CACO CAEC CASFOR CEC CEC CFE CIS CPC CST CSTO EEC ENP EU GUAM GUUAM IMU IPAP JCC JCC KGB NATO NIC NMD OSCE PACE PfP RSC RSCT SCO

Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty Baku–Tbilisi–Ceyhan pipeline Baku–Tbilisi–Erzurum pipeline (or South Caucasus Gas Pipeline) Central Asian Cooperation Organization Central Asian Economic Community Caspian regional security and peacekeeping force Central Election Commission (Abkhazia) Central Election Commission (Ukrainian) Conventional Force in Europe Treaty Commonwealth of Independent States Caspian Pipeline Consortium Collective Security Treaty Collective Security Treaty Organization Eurasian Economic Community European Neighbourhood Policy European Union Georgia, Ukraine, Azerbaijan, Moldova Georgia, Ukraine, Azerbaijan, Moldova, Uzbekistan Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan Individual Partnership Action Plan Joint Control Commission (Transdniester) Joint Control Commission (South Ossetia) Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti (Committee for State Security) North Atlantic Treaty Organization newly independent countries National Missile Defence Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe Partnership for Peace Regional Security Complex Regional Security Complex Theory Shanghai Cooperation Organization

Abbreviations SES SSPM UES UN UNOMIG US$ USSR VAT WMD WTO

Single Economic Space Stability and Security Pact for Moldova Unified Energy Systems United Nations UN Observer Mission in Georgia US dollars Union of Soviet Socialist Republics value added tax weapons of mass destruction World Trade Organization

xiii

Minsk

SYRIA IRAQ

ARMENIA

Yerevan

Tehran

UZBEKISTAN

IRAN

Ashgabat

TURKMENISTAN

AZERBAIJAN

Caspian Sea Baku

RUSSIA

Russia and its southern perimeter (source: Swedish Defence Research Agency).

ISRAEL

LEBANON

Ceyhan

TURKEY

Tblisi

CHECHNYA

Moscow

GEORGIA

Ankara

Black Sea

MOLDOVA

Chisinau

UKRAINE

Kyiv

BELARUS

Mediterranean Sea CYPRUS

GREECE

BULGARIA

ROMANIA

HUNGARY

SLOVAKIA

POLAND

Bishkeks

AFGHANISTAN

PAKISTAN

Islamabad

TAJIKISTAN

CHINA

KYRGYZSTAN

Kabul

Dushanbe

Tashkent

KAZAKHSTAN

Astana

Part I

The Russian regional security complex and Russian foreign policy towards the CIS countries

1

Introduction

1.1 The general idea and purpose of the book This book is about the development of Russia’s relations to its closest geographical, political, economic and social neighbours – the CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States) countries – under Putin’s presidency. The perspective adopted here on these relations is thus not only Russian, it is ‘Putinist’ in the sense that it deals with President Putin’s basic foreign policy strategies towards the CIS countries. The book takes its starting point in the idea of a separate Russia-led regional security complex and largely leaves out the dynamics of this (Russia-led) regional security complex in its relations to the three larger security complexes that surround Russia geographically – the European, the Asian and the Middle Eastern security complexes. The penetration of ‘external’ powers, notably the United States and China, into the Russia-led security complex is dealt with only to the extent that it influences Russian policies towards CIS countries or the inner dynamics of the Russia-led security complex. The theoretical focus is on regional security complex theory and draws heavily upon leading theorists in the field, especially Buzan (1991), Lake and Morgan (1997) and Buzan and Waever (2003). The purpose is basically to present a descriptive analysis with respect to the intentions and features of Putin’s foreign policy behaviour towards the countries of the Commonwealth of Independent States (or the blizhnee zarubeshie, ‘near abroad’). This descriptive analysis is structured in a way that in itself almost suggests a theory of Putin’s foreign policy, but which is, in effect, rather a thesis about the general foreign policy strategy of Putin throughout the book. The most general thesis is that Putin has been aiming not only at restoring a strong Russian state (or ‘strengthening the vertical’), but also at restoring Russia as a strong regional political, military and economic power, as the indisputable leader of the Russia-led security complex of Eurasia and the major ‘orderer’ of the countries in the CIS region. In doing so, this thesis suggests, Putin has occasionally had to resist traditional Russian geo-political thinking in order not to push these countries further away from the Russian orbit, and combine traditional great power goals and perspectives with geo-economic goals and perspectives, with the ultimate strategic purpose of rebuilding ‘Greater Russia’ in much

4

Security and foreign policy towards CIS

the same way as the EU countries were integrated (Morgan 1997: 37, 38). This is, in my view, the most characteristic feature of Putin’s domestic and foreign policies: to restore a powerful Russia and rebuild ‘Greater Russia’. As such, Putin’s perspectives and strategies could be referred to as ‘imperialist’, but since the CIS territory today was part both of the Tsarist Empire and of the Soviet Union, I prefer to call Putin’s strategy one of rebuilding Greater Russia, a postimperialist perspective. Such a rebuilding suggests both geo-political and geoeconomic strategies.1 The general argument is that Putin very consciously and from the very outset of his first presidential term tried to distance himself from some elements of the more traditional Russian (or ‘Primakovian’) geo-political thinking (despite Putin’s own involvement in the formulation of such policies as Head of the Federal Security Service – FSB – and subsequently Prime Minister), in favour of a more modern geo-economic thinking. In suggesting that Putin’s foreign policy is based more on ‘geo-economic’ than ‘geo-political’ goals does not suggest that economic strategies or goals are the more ‘final’ goals. Nor does it suggest that geo-economic means and goals may not be used for purposes of political dominance. It simply suggests that geo-economic behaviour, ideas and arguments seem to be more important for Putin than geo-political ones, for whatever purpose or reason. The description as such is structured around this thesis and starts from the assumption that Putin is the major actor in Russian foreign and security policy, with the power to verbalize and to some extent also execute Russian foreign policy. In discussing the foreign policy of Russia, a distinction is made between the practical sphere of Russian foreign policy, as seen in diplomatic practice and diplomatic orientation, on the one hand, and declared foreign policy, on the other (cf. Trofimenko 1999: 50). In the chapters below, both the verbal foreign policy and the practice and outcome are relevant objects of study. I am thus concerned with ‘actual’ foreign policy behaviour as outcomes, assuming that verbal behaviour more or less directly reflects the intentions of President Putin. The motivations for behaviour offered by Putin himself constitute in essence a teleological explanation of the executed policy. Therefore, there are both Russian foreign policy behaviour outcomes and verbal statements by Putin (and a few official government representatives in his immediate leadership sphere, particularly his Prime Ministers Mikhail Kasyanov and later Mikhail Fradkov, Foreign Ministers Igor Ivanov and later Sergey Lavrov and Defence Minister Sergey Ivanov). Occasionally, there are obvious differences in their statements, or so it seems, in which case this will be duly noted. But generally speaking, given the broad outlines and general strategies of the foreign policy behaviour with which this author is concerned, it is not the differences as much as the concerted unity of views, behaviour and strategies that are in focus. The book is predominantly concerned with such intentions and outcomes that are ascribable to Putin’s general political strategy rather than to the nitty-grittys of everyday politics, to bureaucratic politics, to the domestic strife for different goals of individual politicians, parties and bureaucratic entities. The inevitable short-term twists and

Introduction

5

turns of policy-making are of interest only to the extent that they say something about Putin’s own foreign policy ideas and objectives. The method used is one of descriptive structured analysis, an analysis based on an interpretation of intentions, strategies and goals and based on verbal as well as non-verbal foreign policy behaviour in a way that ‘reveals’ these same interests, strategies and goals. The book is structured according to several criteria, apart from a geographical dimension – three regional sub-complexes and 11 bilateral relationships – and a chronological – from January 2000 to late 2006 – and a thematic description of Putin’s foreign policy statements and individual behaviour. In addition, there are three foreign policy arenas on which Russia plays with the CIS countries: the politico-military (or geo-political) arena – security, military and defence cooperation as well as conflict issues, border issues, separatist issues; the politicoeconomic (or geo-economic) arena – economic cooperation and conflict issues – especially energy issues and Russian take-overs of companies in the CIS countries; and the politico-cultural arena – ethnicity and identity issues, migration and ‘language politics’.2 Apart from these three broader policy arenas and the policy issues directly derived from them, there are also a few secessionist problems in Russia’s relations with CIS countries, Abkhazia and South Ossetia in Georgia, and Transdniester in Moldova.3 There is also the inter-state NagornoKarabakh conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan. These ‘frozen conflicts’ have all been inherited from the early 1990s, but have inevitably both distorted and supplemented Putin’s policies in the respective regional sub-complex. There has been somewhat of a controversy as to whether geo-political or geoeconomic goals dominate in Putin’s thinking. While Lo argues that geo-political motives still are dominant and that the very notion of an ‘economization’ of politics generally under Putin is incorrect (Lo 2003a: 14–15, 18), Sakwa suggests that the discussion about a ‘commercialization’ of Russian foreign policy under Putin is not conclusive (Sakwa 2003: 190).4 The issue of the future of CIS and Russia’s leading role in it is directly tied to whether or not Putin’s strategies will succeed, and is the most evident underlying issue of this book. This issue, too, is not entirely uncontroversial: for example, Trenin’s basic argument is that globalization has made a Russian re-imperialization impossible, that the ‘Phoenix’ will not fly this time (Trenin 2002: 18, 95, 304). It could also be argued that globalization has not hit the CIS region as hard as other parts of the world, that the structural ties from the Soviet era are still strong and act as a ‘glue’ between the CIS states, and that Russia is still very much involved in the political, social and economic lives of the countries of the region. Tendencies are thus contradictory. The book is about leadership politics and leadership relations, and bilateral inter-state relationships are mostly described in terms of relations between the leaders of the states. The focus is on Putin himself. The general proposition is that Putin has been the engine of the new foreign policy strategy that has been in use since Yeltsin, that Russian foreign policy has become more personalized and

6

Security and foreign policy towards CIS

‘presidential’, especially after 11 September (Lo 2003b: 121), and is, according to Sakwa, ‘a classical case where individual leadership can stamp its preferences on a period, although of course constrained by the conditions of that time’. Leadership is especially important in Russia and it is often argued that Russia ‘has a cultural predisposition towards strong personalized leadership’, particularly in periods of turmoil like the late Yeltsin years. Putin came to power partly to remedy the situation; he was ‘the president of hope’ (Sakwa 2004: 73–4). Generally, in transition societies, the role of political leadership is particularly important, and in Russia it is ‘the decisive factor for change’. Putin opted for continuity and change at the same time and he kept a system of governance which remained ‘a hybrid’ of incompatible blocs (Shevtsova 2005: 99–100). In preserving such a ‘hybrid system’, Putin ‘succeeded in projecting the image of a leader who could at once appeal to all sectors of society and political groups’. In Shevtsova’s view, by late 2002 Putin had emerged as ‘a traditional Russia modernizer’ who wanted to ‘stop the decay, to strengthen the state, and to include Russia in the West’ (Shevtsova 2005: 101). He was fairly alone in this general reformulation of foreign policy (Shevtsova 2005: 103; Lo 2003b: 121).5 Because of this focus on leadership and on Putin himself, also structural parameters that generally are part of any full-fledged description of foreign policy have largely been left out, although structural constraints are part of Putin’s decision-making situation.6 Putin has shown a partly new way in which Russia could rebuild itself as a regional great power, or re-establish what I choose to call ‘Greater Russia’, a way where both Tsarist-like, Soviet-like and general Great Power-like behaviour towards its neighbours has been complemented by a modern and ‘EU-like’ policy of economic re-integration for economic as well as political purposes. To a large extent, the book is thus about Putin’s foreign policy rather than Russian foreign policy, and a few words are needed on President Vladimir Putin himself in his capacity as architect and executor of Russian foreign policy. Nevertheless, the question ‘who is Putin’ will not really be answered below. Shevtsova offers the relevant background of President Putin, and a few characteristic features should be stressed. First of all, and although more important to domestic than to foreign policy, Putin’s early background in the Soviet KGB has most likely influenced him in the way politics is conceived; a KGB background offers most of all a way of thinking that is ‘characterized by hostility towards dissent of any kind, an inability to tolerate variety in the environment, the rejection of everything alien or not easily understandable, an excessive suspiciousness, and a tendency to make decisions in secret’. Shevtsova suggests that Putin’s work in the Petersburg city government may have ‘cut the corners’ of the KGB inheritance, that Putin listens to his interlocutors, he invites new people to the Kremlin, and those who meet him often change their minds about him (Shevtsova 2003: 81). Putin is often seen as a pragmatic and intelligent leader, he works ‘extremely hard’ and has ‘a brilliant memory’, he appears both methodological and intellectually curious. With time, Putin brought in ‘old colleagues’ from the power structures and several new circles formed around him,

Introduction

7

for example the ‘liberal technocrats’ (including Chubais) or his friends from St Petersburg or colleagues from the KGB (including Sergey Ivanov, today’s Minister of Defence, Nikolai Patrushev, today’s head of FSB, Dimitry Kozak, Igor Sechin and Dimitry Medvedev) (Shevtsova 2003: 85–86).7 The ideologies, doctrines, policies, statements and decisions are thus seen from the perspective of Putin. When particular foreign policy outcomes or statements are presented, it is assumed that Putin is, if not personally involved, at least not distancing himself from those policies and ideas. Nevertheless, this indeed raises the issue of whether or not Putin himself is the leader, or if he is being lead, if he is in the driver’s seat or in the passenger seat? On the one hand, whether or not Putin is in the driver’s seat is not really the issue either; the real issue is whether or not the policies expressed by him or (on occasion) executed in his name are indeed directly attributable to Putin. Partly for this reason, statements and speeches by Putin are not ‘reflections’ of Russian foreign policy; they are Russia’s (verbalized) foreign policy, and quotes fill many of the pages below.8 As far as non-verbalized behaviour is concerned, we have to be much more careful as to whether Putin ‘is behind’ the behaviour of those acting in his name (especially his closest ministers, Minister of Defence and Foreign Minister). Most often, such behaviour can be assumed to have his general authorization, but the further away the executors of state policies are found (for example, powerful local military leaders in local conflict areas like Abkhazia and Transdniester), the less likely that Putin ‘is behind’ the activities. Sometimes, it is evident that he is not. Such a ‘mono-person focus’ is in more than one sense an analytical construct; Russian foreign policy (like that of most countries) is much more correctly described as a mixture of many interests, only some of which tend to coincide with the more general and dominant goal. Putin’s foreign policy, I argue, is overshadowed by a primary and fundamental goal, that of restoring a strong Russian state and re-create its domination of the old empire.9 This seems to suggest that Russia is on ‘mission impossible’, that Putin has not learnt his Russian history well, that traditional ‘power instruments’ are the only ones available, and that ideas of a ‘liberal empire’ are not on Putin’s mind. I have a different view. There are a few key-words to guide us in finding a starting point to understanding Putin’s policies. One is the disastrous (to Russia) effects of losing an empire (which Putin called ‘a major geopolitical disaster of the century’ in his speech to the Federal Assembly in April 2005), which relegated Russia to the level comparable only to the poorest of European countries. Another key-word is the disastrous social and economic conditions of large sections of the population that followed in the 1990s, super-inflation and epidemic ‘kleptomania’, half-hearted privatization and loss of production capacity, permanent in-fighting among different groups and elites kept in balance only by President Yeltsin, the richness and inconsistencies of laws (which created a total mess of judiciality), and worst of all – a weak, sick and tired (and occasionally also intoxicated)

8

Security and foreign policy towards CIS

leader that was not held in respect by a large majority of the population. In short: a lack of order in a country where order for centuries has been much more important than any other societal parameter. As Lo has noted, by the end of the 1990s there was a general feeling that Russia ‘had hit rock bottom’ in its impotence on the international arena, particularly in the relationship with the United States which was ‘almost absurdly unequal’ (Lo 2003b: 23, 24, 25). This is where Putin fits in. The contrast to President Yeltsin’s foreign policy activities, especially its reactive character, is deafening: Putin indeed ‘marks a dramatic change from his predecessor’ in the foreign policy arena (Herspring 2003: 225). Or, as Lo has put it, Putin did not have to do much to convey the idea that a new era had arrived (Lo 2003b: 30). From the very outset, he was most of all the orderer, and his task was as formidable as his instruments were few. Still, he will most likely go down in Russian history books for exactly this: he came, he saw, and he created order out of disorder, no matter what we may think of that order. He is in the driver’s seat most of the time and when in the back seat he is a typical ‘back seat driver’. Putin is also the orderer when it comes to Russia’s relations with the outside world. In Putin’s mind, the dissolution of the USSR was a catastrophe because of the greatness of Russia that was lost in the process. The total inability of Russia to put up some joint leadership function in the region undoubtedly made a strong impression on Putin. Like on the domestic scene, the ‘orderer’ sees order not as a moral or normative issue, but as order per se, for its own sake. Order means predictability, which increases security, which in turn is necessary for all societal, political and economic life to prosper. The order is based on Russia’s perceived great power role of security and welfare provider in the region, as an inescapable task to itself and to the rest of the world. By now, it should be evident that my understanding of Putin’s foreign policy towards the CIS countries is driven by one single and comprehensible goal – to rebuild ‘Greater Russia’ by other (or less) than violent means, to re-establish Russian control over geographical areas where it originally established the Tsarist empire, i.e. in the largely non-contested Central Asian region, in the much-contested and turbulent Caucasus region, and in the traditional ‘Russian’ region of the three Slavic countries. A rebuilding of Greater Russia requires both a horizontal and vertical growth of influence over the genuinely Russian resources and over the geographic neighbourhood, a skilful combination of economic, political and military means. This might very well rebuild, if not something similar to the former Union, at least a region in which Russia enjoys all-dominant influence. After all, this was how the first imperialization of Greater Russia succeeded (Cohen S.B. 2003: 187–188). To rebuild ‘Greater Russia’, many instruments are available. Russia’s major ‘hard power’ instrument is its military strength, whether in the form of border guards, peacekeepers, or regular armed forces. Russia’s major ‘soft power’ instrument towards the other CIS states includes state-owned or state-controlled oil, gas and electricity production entities and energy transit capacities, the

Introduction

9

indebtedness to Russia and the need for Russian investments and know-how. Russia’s major social and cultural instrument involves the Russian citizens in the CIS countries, which most often have both Russian citizenship and citizenship in the country of living, the state and local language requirements, schools, press and radio/TV broadcasts in the Russian language.10 As indicated several times above, maybe the major difference between Putin’s foreign policy instruments and those of his predecessor is this greater reliance on ‘soft power’ instruments.

1.2 Regional security complexes – concepts and application In this book, the CIS region is treated as an entity analytically distinguishable from the rest of the world. It is assumed that Russia and its remaining 11 neighbour states in the CIS have something important in common, something that is stronger than any one of the member states has with any state outside the CIS. This is the general idea with regional security complexes – RSCs – the most general ‘ordering’ dimension in this volume. Regional security complexes linguistically imply at least three dimensions, the geographical notion of a region as part of something larger – the international or the global, the security dimension of state and inter-state relations, and the ‘closeness of relations’ that makes it a complex. Below, these notions are treated in some detail. In more than a geographic sense, it is natural to think of the remnants of the former Soviet space, the CIS countries, as a regional entity. Since the end of the Cold War, several regional orders have emerged, orders that were subsumed to the superpower competition during the Cold War, and either escalating or suffocating local and regional conflicts (Lake and Morgan 1997: 3–4). When lifted, this super-structure gave way to the ‘regionalization’.11 The (CIS) region is here defined as states linked by geography together with culture or stage of development in much the same way the CIS region has been defined by the CIS states themselves: dependent on each other for security as well as well-being (cf. Lake and Morgan 1997: 11). The second term, security, will be linked to the ‘regional’ as an adjective to complex, to identify a specific dimension on which the more general notion of a complex can be created. In his seminal monograph on security, Buzan (1991) introduces the regional sub-system as an object of security designed precisely ‘to highlight the relative autonomy of regional security relations’. The regional level of analysis is located between the international and the state levels, and constitutes a level with a ‘security dynamic that would exist even if other actors did not infringe upon it’ (Buzan 1991: 186, 187). The notion of a security complex suggests that there exists a ‘distinct and significant subsystem of security relations’ among the neighbouring states, but also that there are patterns of amity (ranging from genuine friendship to expectations of protection and support) and enmity (relations set by suspicion and fear). In the Russia-centred regional security complex (as in complexes more generally), such patterns of amity and enmity arise from ‘border disputes, interests in ethnically related

10

Security and foreign policy towards CIS

populations, and ideological alignments, to longstanding historical links, whether positive or negative’. Regional security complexes are thus formally defined as ‘groups of states whose primary security concerns link together sufficiently closely that their national securities cannot realistically be considered apart from one another . . . and . . . emphasize the interdependence of rivalry as well as that of shared interests’ (Buzan 1991: 189–190).12 This is the classical security complex theory that regards regional sub-systems as objects of analysis and hold states to be the main actors and with a focus on the political and military sectors (Buzan et al. 1998: 9, 11). There is one particular aspect of this definition that has been mind-boggling with respect to the developments of the CIS regional security complex under Putin: the role of so-called external powers in the region. The basic empirical problem has to do with those other important actors (like the United States and China) that are neither geographically, nor economically, socially or culturally adjacent to the region, but nevertheless have had a great influence on its recent developments. This problem has been dealt with in an edited volume by Lake and Morgan (1997), which in turn is based on Buzan’s (1991) thinking on regional security complexes. While Buzan’s 1991 definition was indeed based on geographic affinity, Lake and Morgan argue that this is an unnecessary limitation, that ‘geographic proximity is not a necessary condition for a state to be a member of a complex’. This suggests that great powers not geographically located in the region but with the ability to ‘project force over distance’ should be considered constituent members of the regional security complex. The example used is the United States as part of the European or Middle Eastern regional security complexes (see Lake and Morgan 1997: 12).13 Morgan criticizes Buzan’s limitation to physical geography, arguing that great powers operating within a region cannot be ‘outside’ that regional security complex, that both Russia and the United States ‘remain integral to Europe’s security complex’ (Morgan 1997: 28–29). Morgan’s own definition illuminates the difference: a regional security complex has a geographic location, but this is not necessarily an exact guide to its members. The location is where the security relationships of consequence exist; the members are states that participate profoundly in those relationships. The participants see their security as much more closely bound up with some or all of the other members, and with their interactions in that geographical area, than with states that are not participants in those interactions. (Morgan 1997: 30) This interpretation of a regional security complex has direct bearing on the empirical work here, since geographically ‘external’ penetration has been substantial in the RSC under consideration. The major institutional feature of the Russia-led RSC – the CIS – has been on the verge of breaking up precisely because of this ‘external’ penetration.

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11

In a recent volume on Regional Security Complex Theory – RSCT – Buzan and Waever (2003) refute the sort of inclusion of geographically distant great powers into a RSC that Lake and Morgan argue for. Their counter-argument is that ‘most threats travel more easily over short distances than over long ones’ and therefore ‘security interdependencies are normally patterned into regionally based clusters’ (Buzan and Waever 2003: 4). In their discussion on how to separate the region as a distinguishable level of analysis, Buzan and Waever see the main problem not in separating the region from the units – the states of which they consist – but rather to separate the RSC from the global level (Buzan and Waever 2003: 27).14 The region ‘refers to the level where states or other units link together sufficiently closely that their securities cannot be considered separate from one another’. The regional level of analysis ‘is where the extremes of national and global security interplay’. The main point of a RSC is that ‘[b]oth the security of the separate units and the process of global power intervention can be grasped only through understanding the regional security dynamics’ (Buzan and Waever 2003: 43). This is the position adopted here. The mechanism through which global powers influence regional security complexes is precisely the ‘mechanism of penetration’ which ‘occurs when outside powers make security alignments with states within an RSC’ (Buzan and Waever 2003: 46). There is nothing strange in this, Buzan and Waever argue: while the ‘standard form for an RSC is a pattern of rivalry, balance-of-power, and alliance patterns among the main powers within the region’, to this should be added ‘the effects of penetrating external powers’. An RSC is defined by the ‘degree of security interdependence’ which should be ‘sufficient both to establish them as a linked set and to differentiate them from surrounding security regions’. It is a question of degree, of course, but nevertheless, one that creates a qualitative difference: RSCs are defined by ‘the relative intensity of security interdependence among a group of units, and security indifference between that set and surrounding units’ (Buzan and Waever 2003: 47, 48). The standard RSC does not contain a global power and unipolar RSCs are centred on one great power like, for example Russia in the CIS region (or a superpower like the United States in Latin America) – or a RSC that is integrated by institutions rather than by a single power (like the European Union) (Buzan and Waever 2003: 55–56). The RSCs of today are: the European RSC, the Middle Eastern RSC, the North American RSC and South American RSC, the Central African RSC, the Southern African RSC, the West African protocomplex, the Horn proto-complex, the South Asian RSC, the East Asian RSC, the Asian super-complex, and the Russian RSC (Buzan and Waever 2003: 350). Russia is also an actor, although not a central actor, in three different superregional security complexes: the European, the greater Middle East, and the Asian super-complex. The Russia-led regional security complex is thus a complex surrounding Russia – the post-Soviet space excluding the Baltic states – and centred on Russia. This RSC borders on other RSCs with great powers – the European complex under the EU – and the Asian great power complex with China and

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Japan, and the diversified Middle East (Buzan and Waever 2003: 397–398). There are thus three principal borders – West/Europe, Islamic South and Asia/Pacific (Trenin 2002: 131), or six geopolitical regions – Europe, the Middle East, the Mediterranean, Central Asia, China and the Far East (Selezneva 2003: 19, 21), or ‘three geopolitical fronts’, the West/Europe, the South/and Muslim world, and the East/Asia (Trenin 2002: 20). Russia is the ‘dominant power’ in its own RSC that ‘helps stabilize the region by containing and resolving conflicts among the successor states, providing border defences and bolstering domestic regimes, yet it simultaneously forms, in many cases, the most salient threat to the security of member states’ (Lake and Morgan 1997: 17). Indeed a strange bedfellow. Russia has been described not only as the regional great power but also as the regional hegemonic great power (Papayoanou 1997: 132–133), where Russia’s policies vis-à-vis the CIS countries is a combination of ‘a Bismarckian system . . . and outright domination’. The major obstacle was the very existence of ‘clear security externalities’, but also ‘substantial economic interests given the level of integration achieved under the former Soviet Union’ (Papayoanou 1997: 134).15 Russia’s role is diversified within the three regions of the Russia-led RSC.16 Most security dynamics in this RSC ‘are more unconventional’ (with the exception of the very conventional Nagorno-Karabakh conflict) (Buzan and Waever 2003: 408–409). The states of Caucasus and Central Asia have either a short or an uncertain history, and have been tied to Russia for the last 200 years or more. The eastern and southern theatres of the Russia-centered RSC are mostly about domestic security since the states are extremely weak, while the western part is different in this respect. Furthermore, security is also to a considerable extent linked to specific ‘externalities’ like crime and environmental threats, and the fact that some 25 million ethnic Russians live outside Russia.17 The importance of the Russia-led RSC to Russia itself goes far beyond the more specific issues involved: it has to do with the very identity of Russia as a great power. To Russia, the regional security complex is not only an end to itself, but also a way of reintroducing itself on the global arena, to ‘secure a larger role outside its region and to legitimize its regional empire’ (Buzan et al. 1998: 398). Therefore, also the bottom-line strategic threat to Russia is that ‘if Russia is to remain a great power able both to defend itself and to assert some influence globally, it needs to retain its sphere of influence in the CIS’ (Buzan and Waever 2003: 409–410). To achieve this goal, Russia would need to make the CIS a security community (see Bellamy 2004).

1.3 The birth of Greater Russia – history18 In this section, I describe the horizontal, geographical expansion of the early Muscovy state and later Moscow-based Russia, including the Soviet period up to the demise of the USSR. Below, in the introductory chapters to each of the three parts as well as the chapters on bilateral relationship, the developments in the Yeltsin period will be described. The purpose of dividing the ‘histories’ in this

Introduction

13

way is to differentiate between the longer time horizons and Putin’s own time horizon. Although today’s Russia encompasses only 70 per cent of the USSR territory at its peak, 50 per cent of its population, and 60 per cent of its industrial capacity, modern post-Soviet Russia covers a geographically huge territory. The change in size is just a reflection of the fact that Russia has expanded and contracted throughout its history (Trenin 2002: 2; Cohen S.B. 2003: 189). The ‘cradle story’ of geographical Russia is not a straightforward one, partly depending on the definition of what ‘Russia’ is as a nation-state, partly on contesting histories of where to place geographically the beginning of Russia as a nationstate: Novgorod, Kiev or Moscow. Russia as a nation-state has its historic core either in the medieval principality of Kievan Rus or in Novgorod. The general history is that Rurik, a trading Viking from Sweden, founded a dynasty in Novgorod in AD 862 which soon became a major trading post and later the fourth basic centre of the Hanseatic League, with its location along the river routes to the Caspian and Black Seas. In AD 879, Rurik’s successor Oleg transferred to Kiev, then centre of the Kievan Rus state, and one year later his brother Vladimir defeated Oleg and began to conquer areas to the south and west of Kiev from Bulgars and Byzantines. Kiev became the seat of this ‘state’ basically because of its location along the Dnieper, well suited to connect Scandinavia and Constantinople. Kiev remained the capital of Kievan Rus until in 1237–38, when also Kiev gave in to the Mongol armies which then ruled for almost 300 years. When the Kievan Rus statehood thus broke up, the power moved to the north. Under the Tatar yoke, Vladimir Suzdal (close to Moscow) for some time became the main political, economic and religious centre, but the city of Moscow turned out to be a strategic crossroad also for the traders of the time, located as it is along a river that connects both the Caspian Sea and the Baltic and White Seas. When Moscow city was taken by the Mongols in 1238 it was still small, but by 1328 Moscow had already emerged as the political, economic and religious centre, and in 1380 Moscow became the capital of a unified Russian state. The Mongol empire of the ‘Golden Horde’ was not entirely overthrown until 1552 when Ivan the Fourth (the ‘Terrible’) took Kazan (the capital of the Tatar khanate of Kazan), located some 500 km to the east of Moscow and the gateway to the Urals. In 1581, the Urals were crossed by Cossacks (free peasants) who also took the city of Sibir in 1598 (the capital of the Tatar khanate of Sibir). The territorial expansion to the east, into and through Siberia, followed fairly swiftly. The Cossacks reached the Sea of Ochotsk in 1649 and established a trading post but were fairly soon ousted by Chinese military forces. While the fur trade was the main rationale for this eastward expansion in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the mining business took over in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Thus, the eastward expansion was a fairly swift and fairly unbloody story, involving hunters and traders in the first wave, and small military contingents only at a later stage (and more designed to confirm the seizure of land than to

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conquer it from someone). The vast areas themselves were not easily inhabited, of course, and the Siberian vast land is still today a desolate area except for a few large cities. Ukraine was the main trophy in the western direction of the Russian expansion. When Kiev Rus was liberated from the Mongols in the late fourteenth century, it was conquered by Lithuania/Poland (unionized in 1569), while the Crimea remained in the hands of the Tatars. In the Russo-Polish war of 1667, Russia received the eastern bank of the Dniester (today’s Transdniester) while Poland received the western bank. After the partitionings of Poland in 1772, 1793 and 1795, Catherine the Great annexed also western Ukraine from Poland. Belarus was also conquered by the Duke of Lithuania and remained under its rule to the end of the Polish wars in the late eighteenth century when it came under Russian rule, as did Lithuania itself. With the First World War, these western areas once again changed allegiance. The Baltic states and Finland were restored by the end of the Russian civil war, and Poland re-conquered western Ukraine and Belarus. It would take Russia another world war to regain control of these territories. From very early on, Russia sought to establish a warm-water port (Archangelsk was the only Russian port until the early eighteenth century). The Northern war of 1700–21 ended with the peace at Nystad in which Russia was given today’s Estonia and part of today’s Latvia. St Petersburg was founded in 1703 and made capital of Russia in 1712. Tsar Peter the Great was the man behind this feat, beating first and foremost Charles XII of Sweden. But it would take another 100 years for Russia to also take Finland (as a result of the Napoleonic wars in Europe) and to annex much of Bessarabia (in present-day Moldova) in 1812. This was the first phase of Russia’s territorial expansion to the west, establishing Russia as a north European power. By the end of the Napoleonic wars, Russia had become a major European power. There still was no year-round warm-water port though. Such a port was to be found only in the south, and Peter the Great also began the conquest of the south. In 1696, he conquered (and kept for a decade) the north eastern part of the Black Sea, but it was only under Catherine the Great and her wars against the Ottomans in the late eighteenth century that the northern Black Sea region was finally annexed by Russia, the Crimea in 1783 (ending the khanate of Crimea) and Odessa in 1791. In the early nineteenth century (1806–55), the Caucasus became the target of Russian imperial expansion. Russia conquered the eastern shores of the Black Sea from Greater Georgia, and Batumi, Erevan and Tbilisi became part of Greater Russia. In the Crimean war in 1853–56, European powers helped the Ottomans to cut Russia off from the Mediterranean Sea by controlling the Bosporus and Dardanelles. In the latter half of the nineteenth century (1868–84), Russia expanded into Central Asia and re-took the south eastern shores of the Caspian Sea (from Persia) and the southeastern part of Central Asia (1864–78). The Bukhara and Khiva khanates remained nominally independent as Russian protectorates, while Kazakhstan had already been taken (in wars from 1730 to 1840) from Tatar khanates.

Introduction

15

While the Cossacks established their fur trade in Siberia, they met almost no opposition from the native population. To the south of western Siberia, settlers established themselves as farmers and cattlers, and it was from this area that later moves into eastern Siberia began in the mid-nineteenth century. At the time, a weak China made it possible to establish Russian strongholds north of the Amur river and east of the Ussuri river, and to move further on to the shores of the Pacific Ocean. In 1860, Russia thus returned to the Pacific coast and established a military post at Vladivostok (a city that grew in importance after the Russo–Japanese war of 1904–05), and also occupied Manchuria. Sakhalin (explored by Russians already in the seventeenth century) was divided with Japan after the 1905 war and Russian jurisdiction was regained only in 1945. It should be noted that Russia’s expansion to the north and east was basically peaceful, and that expansion southward combined peaceful settlements and military conquests. In the west, the situation was altogether different: Russian westward expansion was intimately connected with European wars, and early on conquests were rather for the sake of territory. Lithuania and Poland were the main buffers in the eighteenth century, and the German and Habsburg empires were Russia’s main opponents. At the onset of the First World War, imperial Russia was at its territorial peak, covering territory from the Baltic Sea to the Pacific Ocean, from the northern polar waters to the Caspian and Black Seas. Russia’s population was 145 million, heavily concentrated in the European parts, although Russian largescale settling in Siberia from 1890 had increased its Siberian population to eight million. After the First World War and the Russian revolution, the three weak states of the south, Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan, did not survive for more than a couple of years before they were incorporated into the Soviet Socialist Union in 1922 (together with Russia, Ukraine and Belarus). As a result of the civil war in Russia, the three Baltic states gained independence, as did Finland. Later, between 1924 and 1936, the Central Asian republics were established as part of the Soviet Union and cut loose from the Russian republic. The Second World War again changed Russia’s European borders, and Russia regained much, but not all, of what had been lost in the First World War and its revolutionary aftermaths. Most importantly, the Baltic states were reconquered, and parts of eastern Finland and eastern Poland were gained from the war effort, as was Kaliningrad (from Germany). In the east, Sakhalin and the Kurils were gained, but in the south Turkish and Iranian territories were lost. The territorial space of the USSR was almost as large as that of Russia at its peak. By 1989, when the USSR fell apart, ‘five hundred years of heartland expansion ended’ (Trenin 2002: 88). In conclusion, the Russian expansion to the north and east encountered virtually no competition from other powers, and the basic incentives for the territorial expansion were economic rather than political. The expansion to the south, on the other hand, more resembles a military contest over territories for basically

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geo-political objectives, with other great powers – the British, Chinese and Ottoman powers – aiming at securing borderlands and buffer zones. The westward expansion was also of a military and geo-political nature, and increasingly aiming at securing buffer zones from invading western great powers. Therefore, Russia has evolved both in isolation from other great powers (in the east) and in competition with them (in the south and west), from which some of its characteristic imperialist features stem. Russia’s territorial expansion was (in the words of Trenin) ‘mandated by geography, historical circumstances, and the particular mentality of Russian leaders’, and Russian imperial policy ‘was marked by typical dualism’, involved in traditional European diplomacy on the one hand, and aiming for territorial gains and buffers, on the other (Trenin 2002: 71).19 The implosion of the USSR itself, beginning in 1991 after the loss of its east European dominions, in effect constituted an enormous de-imperialization process of a system based on eight decades of ‘internal terror and fear of external enemies’ (Buzan and Waever 2003: 404). This implosion reduced the territory of ‘Greater Russia’ (in the form of the USSR) from 8,600,660 to 6,592,735 square miles, and its population from 293 million to 154 million. While Russians in the USSR constituted only 53 per cent of the population, Russians in Russia constitute 82 per cent. This ‘de-imperialization’ of ‘Greater Russia’ was to be followed by the almost complete destruction (by decentralization and regionalization) of the remaining Russian Federation in the later Yeltsin years. The reason was rather weakness than design. The basic problem for Yeltsin to re-establish control of the CIS region was the fact that a re-union was not built on even domestic consensus, that his administration ‘was never able to maintain a consistent position on either the balance of priorities or even the criteria by which they should be measured’ (Lo 2002: 123), and Russia simply did not take the CIS states seriously. The basic goal was to keep others out of the area and to manage conflicts (Lo 2002: 128). The history of Russia’s relations to these newborn states under Yeltsin is basically one of neglect and indifference and is closely tied to that of the CIS – the Commonwealth of Independent States – founded in December 1991, at the same time as the USSR was dissolved. The bottom-line strategic threat was that, ‘if Russia is to remain a great power able both to defend itself and to assert some influence globally, it needs to retain its sphere of influence in the CIS’ (Buzan and Waever 2003: 409–10).20 After the first two years of euphoria for the west under Foreign Minister Andrey Kozyrev, the CIS surfaced as the expressed highest priority in Russia’s foreign relations. The organization itself has been all but successful ever since, and despite a few half-hearted attempts to reorganize it, it has generally been seen as ‘the world’s largest fig leaf’ (quoted in Roeder 1997: 219). By the time Putin became President of Russia in January 2000, Russia was not only internationally a midget, but a weak one at that. Putin’s historic mission was to change this. In the Russia-led European sub-complex, the first problem to solve after 1991 was the retrieval to Russia of nuclear weapons. Once that issue was gone, the

Introduction

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obvious driving force in the 1990s (which could not but keep Russia alert) was the wish of the Baltic states to become members of the West European security and economic structures, NATO and the EU. The fact that Ukraine (Russia’s most politically important neighbour by far) also aimed for closer relations with NATO and the EU explains why Ukraine was treated heavy-handedly. At the same time, Belarus was the model state for integration, seen in the effort to create a Union of the two. Moldova, on the other hand, was severely wounded by secessionist forces and civil war, and more or less forced to accept Russian military presence in Transdniester due to the lack of interest of the rest of Europe. The Caucasus sub-complex has been the most unstable and conflict-ridden since the break-up of the USSR. Apart form the Chechnya war on Russia’s own territory, civil war in Georgia itself, secessionist wars in Abkhazia and South Ossetia, and in addition a regular inter-state war between Armenia and Azerbaijan over Nagorno-Karabakh strongly coloured regional developments. Russia has not been inactive in these conflicts, and its military forces (under different guises) have been both stabilizers and part of the problem. The Central Asian sub-complex was largely neglected and to the extent that Russia has been interested, it has been preoccupied with issues related to crime, identity-shaping and Russians in exile, borders and pipelines. Terrorism has been the most obvious problem, to a large extent an offspring of developments in Afghanistan (since the mid-1990s) which fanned existing social and cultural conflicts (in the Ferghana Valley). Russian troops have guarded most of the ‘external’ borders of the Central Asian states. The general foreign policy history of the Yeltsin era has been dealt with in many good scholarly works and need not be repeated here.21 Instead, I only present the broadest possible picture of Russia’s place in the world in the late 1990s, by the time of Putin’s arrival in the Kremlin, and with a special focus on developments outside the Russia-centred regional security complex.

1.4 Russia and its place in the world at the turn of the millennium – the greater picture At the time when Putin became Prime Minister of Russia in August 1999, the most dominant foreign policy theme in Russia was the extremely adverse attitudes towards NATO and the United States. There were several reasons for this. One was NATO enlargement into former Soviet space from the mid-1990s, which was further reinforced by the humanitarian intervention in Kosovo, the air bombings of Serbia (based on the new NATO strategy of ‘out-of-area’ operations) in spring 1999. In the eyes of Russia, this pointed directly at Russia and the ghost of NATO operations in the traditional Russian sphere of influence was evoked. Russia broke off relations with NATO, and in its agony Russia was comforted by China. Another disappointment had to do with the US abrogation of the Anti Ballistic Missile Treaty to construct a Nuclear Missile Defence. In his resistance to the NMD plans, Putin tried to drive a wedge between the USA

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and Europe and even proposed a common European/Russian missile defence system. These openly anti-US and anti-NATO policies changed only at the first summit between Presidents Putin and Bush in Ljubljana in June 2001 which suggested a fundamental shift in Russian priorities and goals. The full pendulum swing was completed on 11 September with Putin’s immediate, resolute and unconditional bandwagoning with the United States in its ‘war on terrorism’. Putin’s decision to side with the United States was highly controversial in Russia and became even more so when Putin approved of US airbases in Central Asia. When Putin and Bush met at their second (November 2001 Texas) summit, both the NMD and the NATO expansion issues were lifted from the agenda. In my view, Putin had simply realized that there was nothing more that Russia could do about NATO expansion. Russia had not entered the forefront of world politics, almost on equal footing with the world hegemon, and changed Russia’s foreign policy quite drastically.22 In May 2002, the NATO–Russia Council was created, but the opposition by France, Germany, China and Russia to the upcoming intervention in Iraq showed again the potential for creating an alternative and powerful anti-US pole in world politics (China, Russia and Europe).23 In its relations to Europe, the economic dimension has been dominant: Europe is Russia’s largest trading partner and the main importer of Russian gas and oil. Putin has strived for good relations both with separate European great powers and with the European Union. The EU enlargement has generally not been resisted. Russia sees itself as a major great power also in Asia, where China is its major country of interest. Since 1996, Russia and China have enjoyed a ‘strategic relationship’, and in 2001 they signed a Treaty on Good Neighbourliness, Friendship and Cooperation. Russia has not resisted China’s involvement in the exploitation of energy from Siberia, and China had already become the largest export country for the Russian arms industry. Putin has also continued Yeltsin’s policy towards Japan. With respect to Korea, Yeltsin concentrated on relations with South Korea, while Putin has tried to play a political role in North Korea for a few years (until 2003 when Russia held naval exercises together with the United States, Japan and South Korea off the Korean coast). Putin has continued the policies of his predecessor with India, the second biggest export country for Russian arms and also made India ‘a strategic partner’. The most obvious change in the Russia-led regional security complex under Putin that could be derived from the two greater security complexes described above – the ‘meaning of the greater picture to the narrower picture’ – concerns Russia’s changed relations with the United States after 11 September.24 Contrary to what might have been expected, the US military presence in Russia’s ‘sphere of influence’ in Central Asia seems in fact to have put on track Russian policies that up to then had been rather unfocused. By the time Putin entered the Kremlin, Russia’s relations with the former Soviet republics were still infected

Introduction

19

by some of the left-over problems of the break-up of the USSR. On its ‘Western front’, Russia had already lost the three Baltic states, and on the ‘Southern front’ several new worries were evident: the Taliban in Afghanistan threatened Central Asia with the spread of Islamic extremism, and the great power race for the Caspian Sea and Central Asian oil and gas resources was in full swing. More generally, the political and social instability of the Caucasus and Central Asia regions had come to the forefront, regions where Russia for almost two centuries had been the great power with responsibility for security (and quite often without their expressed consent). September 11 was the window of opportunity that Putin needed to strengthen his own hand in Central Asia and the Caucasus.

1.5 Putin and his strategic starting point in 2000 Most often, foreign policy changes grow from a long period of vacillations and reformulations and only sometimes result from paradigmatic shifts. The doctrinal character of such changes is not unusual in Russia, quite the contrary.25 The implosion of the Soviet Union itself created both the need and the basis for a new Russian foreign policy, and the first years of ‘reactive’ pro-Western foreign policy in the euphoric Kozyrev period (1992–93) only emphasized the lack of a strategic outlook. The new Foreign Policy Concept that followed in April 1993 placed the CIS countries first (Donaldson and Nogee 2002: 117–118). This attempt to re-define Russia’s role in the world was largely bred by a new, reasserted nationalistic Russia, a re-invention of Russia that was a necessary part of the general syndrome of a disintegrating former empire. What was later to become a ‘Russian Gaullist’ foreign policy was to a large extent handled by Evgeny Primakov, a survivor from the Soviet era and a stern proponent of Russia’s geo-political interests. By the end of the Yeltsin era, Russia’s foreign policy was nevertheless ‘neither consistent, nor effective’ (Herspring and Rutland 2003). The Primakovian re-orientation was finally verbalized (after several years in progress) in the National Security Concept (adopted on 10 January 2000) and in the Foreign Policy Concept of the Russian Federation (adopted on 28 June 2000) which became, in effect, the ‘starting point’ for Putin’s foreign policy, and I will point to a few of the guidelines that were to be influential in the years to come, although not rigidly adhered to.26 In the National Security Concept of the Russian Federation, there is in the very first part a description of ‘Russia in world society’ which gives a few indications as to how Russia’s general position in the world was perceived. The document was the result of a lengthy internal debate and heavy criticism of the 1993 National Security Concept which it superseded. With respect to Russia’s status, the National Security Concept notes that Russia is ‘one of the most powerful countries in the world with a history of many centuries and rich cultural traditions. . . . It objectively continues to play an important role in world processes in accordance with its significant economic, scientific–technological and military potential, and unique strategic location on the European continent.’ Russia’s national interests ‘consist of the securing of sovereignty to strengthen the

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position of Russia as a great power – one of the influential centers of a multipolar world, in the development of equal and mutually beneficial relations with all integration associations, first of all with governments – the members of the CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States) and traditional partners of Russia’ (Diplomatichesky vestnik, no. 2, 2000: 3–4). While the National Security Concept focuses on the ‘harder’ issues in Russia’s foreign relations, the Foreign Policy Concept of the Russian Federation (Diplomaticheskiy vestnik, no. 2, 2000: 3–4) was at the same time much broader and somewhat more detailed with respect to ‘what it is all about’ and also the most important source to understand Putin’s foreign policy legacy from Yeltsin. The ideological tenor was ‘Primakovian’, but the Concept suggests that the ‘more traditional security goals’ were aimed at the well-being of the Russian economy.27 The fundamental foreign policy objectives or general principles according to the Concept include ‘to create favourable external conditions for the steady development of Russia’, and ‘to form a good-neighbourly belt along the perimeter of Russia’s borders, and to promote the elimination of existing and prevent the emergence of potential hotbeds of tension and conflicts in regions adjacent to the Russian Federation’. The ‘growing trend towards the establishment of a unipolar structure of the world with the economic and power domination of the United States’ is the major problem, and the recipe is that the world order ‘must be based on mechanisms of collective resolution of key problems, on the priority of law and broad democratization of international relations’ and on the development of ‘regional and sub-regional integration in Europe, the Asia–Pacific region, Africa and Latin America’. In this scheme, the United States was a direct threat to Russia’s fundamental objectives and seen as a problem. The geographical priorities were indicated by the order in which geographical areas and issues were mentioned. The order is more than a formality; it indicates the very preference order of the geographical ‘layers’ of foreign policy, quite apart from the geographical (east/west/south) ‘directions’ of foreign policy. The main foreign policy objectives as stated in the introduction of the Concept are therefore worth noting. First, there is a clear reference to the UN and its charter as one of the very building blocks of Russian foreign policy, based as it is on state interests and on inter-state relations. Second, there is a clear focus on the ‘near abroad’. Third, there is a certain criticism of the ‘integration processes, in particular, in the Euro-Atlantic region’ which are seen as being ‘quite often pursued on a selective and limited basis’, a reference to NATO. Fourth, Russian foreign policy ‘has been predetermined by the geopolitical position of Russia as one of the largest Eurasian powers, requiring an optimal combination of efforts along all vectors’ (i.e. geographical directions). The geographical priorities thus seem to be graded. Mentioned first under the heading of regional priorities we find the CIS, a ‘priority area in Russia’s foreign policy’ in which Russian foreign policy is to ensure ‘the conformity of multilateral and bilateral cooperation . . . to national security tasks’. A distinction is made between the CIS as a whole and the more narrow associations within it.

Introduction

21

Europe is mentioned second, and relations with the European states are ‘Russia’s traditional foreign policy priority’ where the main aim is the ‘creation of a stable and democratic system of European security and cooperation’. Relations with the EU are of ‘key importance’ to Russia, and the EU is seen as ‘one of [Russia’s] main political and economic partners’ with which Russia seeks ‘intensive, stable and long-term cooperation free from the fluctuations of expediency’. With respect to NATO, the tone was altogether different: NATO’s present policies ‘do not coincide with the security interests’ of Russia and ‘occasionally directly contradict them’. Relations with the larger powers in Europe – the UK, Germany, Italy and France are given particular mention, after which relations with central and eastern Europe are dealt with. Third in the priority listing is Asia, which ‘enjoys a steadily growing importance in the context of the entire foreign policy of the Russian Federation – something which is due to Russia’s direct affinity with this dynamically developing region and the need for an economic upturn in Siberia and the Far East’. Special reference is made to the ‘developing of friendly relations’ with the bigger states, ‘primarily with China and India’, with which Russia shares ‘fundamental approaches . . . to the key issues of world politics’. The main task is to ‘bring the scale of economic interaction in conformity with the level of political relations’. After Asia, the rest of the world follows – the Middle East, the countries of Africa and Central and South America. This same precise geographical priority list popped up regularly – the CIS countries first, Europe second and Asia third, up to 11 September (Nygren 2002a). The ‘economization’ of Russian foreign policy is seen in the focus on economic development. Furthermore, Putin abandoned some of the ideas of the Concept at an early stage (Lo 2003b: 121; Nygren 2003). All this is perhaps best seen in Putin’s addresses to the Federation Council, especially in 2003 and 2004 (Putin’s address 16 May 2003; Putin’s address 26 May 2004).28 In the very first years of Putin’s rule, there certainly were some shifts in general foreign policy. While some aspects of foreign policy have been consistent all through Putin’s reign (so far), some important changes took place very early on, others somewhat later, and some foreign policy stances have been more inconsistent and some indicate obvious retreats into ‘old’ thinking. Although Russian and Soviet foreign policy often has been based on general principles and doctrines, why should we expect Putin to be tied up by the above tenets? This is a difficult question, indeed, but generally speaking (and this is the traditional argument), doctrines are by definition guiding instruments for behaviour. Whether or not the guidelines or tenets are being adhered to is, in the end, an empirical and not a definitional issue. But there are also some good reasons to believe that Russia should be either sensitive to more serious deviation from the doctrinal tenets or be heading in approximately the same ‘deviant’ direction. If not, there is a conflict over more fundamental foreign policy goals. No doctrinal text is written in stone, any text can be ignored, neglected or changed. Furthermore, it is the privilege of the President to be the first to

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Security and foreign policy towards CIS

interpret and re-interpret, or even to break the basic tenets of the doctrine. For a state to make serious foreign policy changes, a leader is the most likely supporter or originator of that very change: otherwise, he is rather being lead than leading. But even a strong leader has to be rather certain that a proposed change will be accepted by the important elites, or he faces a problem of resistance to change. An ‘outdated’ doctrine will sooner or later be superseded by another one: old tenets will all end up on the graveyard of outdated ideas. As much as verbal politics is but one dimension of politics, so is non-verbal foreign policy activity: sometimes the two complement each other and sometimes they seem opposed to each other. In the chapters that follow, I sometimes talk of Putin’s foreign policy, sometimes of Russian foreign policy, and sometimes a distinction is made with respect to verbalized and non-verbalized foreign policy. At times, this may create a picture of ‘unity’ in foreign policy, sometimes the opposite; neither is evident only by the quotes made. But in the chapters below, unity is indeed assumed to be common, and disunity assumed to be an exception to the general rule in Putin’s closest entourage. In conclusion, Putin is (today) one of the very rare people in Russian history who has a clear perspective on Russia’s past and future, of where Russia is going and why, both in domestic and foreign policy. In my view, one of the more evident features of Putin is his steadfast direction in Russian policies vis-à-vis the newly independent countries of the CIS, his attempts to establish not only a strong and self-confident Russia domestically, but also a strong leader of the CIS area, or the re-builder of Greater Russia. Again, whether this is good or bad news for Russia and even more so for its neighbours is, of course, another matter.

1.6 The structure of the book Before diving into the bilateral relationships, there is first a chapter on the CIS as an organization, forum for and instrument in Russian foreign policy, and on the Collective Security Treaty Organization, the Shanghai Cooperation Organization, the Eurasian Economic Community, and some other regional organizations. The chapter analyses how the CIS has been used and the extent to which it has been effective or ineffective as an integrationist tool. Then three parts follow dealing with the three regional security sub-complexes, one by one, starting with the ‘western’ or European sub-complex, followed by the Caucasus, and the Central Asian sub-complexes. The three sub-regions used in this study are sturdy enough to be used simply out of convenience and familiarity. Furthermore, given that we are talking of sub-regions – the states of which for at least three quarters of a century have been part of one of the most centralized and authoritarian units in world history (the USSR) – there is reason to believe that this fact by itself warrants a fairly homogeneous regional complex. Therefore, Russia’s attempt to rebuild ‘Greater Russia’ could be seen in ‘uni-sectoral’ terms, or, more to the point, that the political sector is dominant among them (Buzan et al. 1998: 166–167).29

Introduction

23

The editorial approach in the book is ‘problem-oriented’ in that the individual problems of each bilateral relationship have been used as an organizing instrument to present the developments in the relationship. This also means that the chapters on bilateral relations inevitably include aspects particular to the individual relationship. Within the three parts of the book, Russian policies are described in bilateral terms. The major ‘frozen’ conflicts in the regions will be taken out of the bilateral state-to-state relationship and treated separately since these conflicts imply more general Russian objectives and are not only ‘part of’ bilateral relationships. In each of the three regional sub-complexes, the question of external actors will be dealt with either in the bilateral or in the regional context. There is also a more implicit structuring of the book in the many dimensions according to which the separate parts and chapters are structured. Apart from the three super-regions (Asian, Middle Eastern and European), or directions (the east, south and west) or sub-complexes (Central Asian, Caucasus and European), there are also the three major policy arenas, the politico-military, the politico-economic and the politico-social, according to which actual policy issues will be sorted wherever appropriate. Although the down-to-earth policy issues vary between the 11 bilateral relationships, they do constitute a third dimension according to which the empirical descriptions are sorted.30 To repeat, in the chapters below, the basic aim is to let Putin speak for himself, and also let his interlocutors speak (i.e. the leaders of the other CIS countries). Needless to say, the abundant quotes are believed to be illustrative, and at times much more revealing as to the thinking of the leaders than any interpretation of mine. I am a strong believer in the way in which verbal statements by political leaders, especially the less prepared ones in press conferences, may actually tell more than what immediately meets the eye. Putin’s own homepage contains many of the more formal statements and addresses of the Russian president. Verbal statements by Putin and others could certainly be found in many media outlets, but for the present book the Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty material has been a major source, particularly for its frequent quotes. With respect to the analytical parts, sources are to an overwhelming extent also taken from the most renowned Western journalist sources dealing with the CIS countries, in particular Eurasia Insight. The above sources are chosen because of their easy internet availability, free of charge and in archives. In addition, Moscow Times is at times used as a complementary source (the archive is open only for a fee).

2

The regional organizations of the Russia-led regional security complex

2.1 Russia and the CIS and other regional organizations – introduction The Commonwealth of Independent States – the CIS – is the most obvious organizational option for promoting Russian influence in the post-Soviet space and a good starting point for analysing integration and Russia’s attempt to recreate its former grandeur. The CIS was founded by the signing of the Belavezh accords on 21 December 1991 by the presidents of 11 former Soviet republics (Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, Moldova, Russia, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Ukraine and Uzbekistan).1 Early on, it was agreed that Russia should guard the outer borders of the CIS countries as ‘a historic duty’ (Kozyrev, quoted in Roeder 1997: 222). In 1997, the former Soviet border guards left Azerbaijan, Moldova and Ukraine, and new agreements were concluded with Belarus, Armenia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, Tajikistan and Georgia, including altogether 25,000 border troops, the majority of which were locals, sometimes with Russian passports (Trenin 2002: 109). They left the Georgian–Turkish border in 1999 (Trenin 2002: 111). In 1992, six of the more committed signatories (Armenia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, Russia and Tajikistan) signed the CIS Collective Security Treaty. In the Russian doctrinal document ‘Basic Directions of Foreign Policy’ from April 1993, Russia’s role was described as the defender of unity of the CIS area. Yeltsin had basically three goals with respect to the CIS: to strengthen the CIS itself, to consolidate relations with its core states, and to ‘bilateralize’ relations (Sakwa 2002: 383). In the first two years of independence, Russia more or less neglected the CIS countries, but after that, the Russian foreign policy towards the CIS countries turned into creating an integrated political and economic community of states. The ‘principal manifestation’ of this policy was to opt for closer economic cooperation, while security cooperation was more problematic (Zagorsky 1998: 281). By 1994, Russia had also established peacekeeping forces in Tajikistan, Georgia and Moldova. An attempt to create a joint CIS Security Council and to integrate military forces failed, though (Roeder 1997: 223, 224). In the first year, Russia pushed for security cooperation, while the other CIS

The Russia-led regional security complex

25

members wanted economic cooperation (which Russia rather resisted) (Malcolm et al. 1996: 8). In 1994, the CIS presidents promised to create a free-trade zone within the CIS, an idea that resurfaced again in 1998, but never really took off. In September 1995, Yeltsin decreed an economic, political and defence union. Ambitions were high, but developments continued to be slow, and only when Primakov took over the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in 1996 did it become obvious that the CIS partners had really become a ‘priority’ in Russian foreign policy (OMRI DD 17 January 1997), but also that ambitions had been lowered and that economic integration was at the fore (Jonson 2001: 97).2 The major goals in the Yeltsin era were related to re-integration based on instruments like Russian minorities, energy dependence on Russia, guarding extended borders and avoiding ethnic conflicts (Adomeit 1998: 43). The major dangers to CIS have come from within rather than from the outside (Sakwa 2002: 387). There have been a few persistent problems throughout the history of the CIS. One is the Russian involvement in separatist enclaves of some CIS countries (Georgia, Azerbaijan and Moldova) which has been seen as attempts to influence the domestic situation of those countries. In general, there has been a general fear among CIS members of too strong a Russian domination, a fear of getting trapped in a Russian embrace again. This has been particularly evident in the sphere of security and defence in the mid to late 1990s. The most severe of such accusations claimed that Russia would use the CIS as a way of recreating the USSR.3 The CIS has been haunted by the fact that Russia is so dominant in size, power and prestige, and the very fact that the Russian language has been the lingua franca within the organization has only underscored this fact (see Sakwa 2002: 383). The fact that Russia offered Russian citizenship (also dual citizenships) to citizens of other CIS countries and reserved the right to intervene to evacuate them further underscored Russia’s privileged position within the CIS (Roeder 1997: 232). A second problem has been the survival potential of the organization which has been low, and a typical prophesy in the second Yeltsin term was that the CIS had no future, that it rather was a vehicle for the peaceful disintegration of the USSR. Interestingly, Yeltsin himself acknowledged that the creation of the CIS in 1991 was the only way ‘to save what could be saved’ from the collapse of the USSR (OMRI DD 6 December 1996) and Leonid Kuchma and Aleksander Lukashenka said the CIS allowed a ‘mostly civilized’ divorce of the former Soviet republics (RFE/RL Newsline 5 November 1997 and RFE/RL Newsline 4 March 1998, respectively). As late as 2005, also Putin suggested that the CIS was created for a civilized divorce (RFE/RL Newsline 4 April 2005). A third problem is that the history of the CIS is full of many formal meetings and agreements and of close-to-zero implementation.4 This early habit of signing agreements that were never ratified or implemented continued for most of the Yeltsin years. At the belated fifth anniversary CIS summit in March 1997, Aleksander Lukashenka called the CIS ‘a club for meetings between heads of state’ and added that ‘the present [level of] cooperation within the CIS represents an imitation of integration’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 April 1997). At the next

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Security and foreign policy towards CIS

CIS summit (in October 1997) Yeltsin called the ‘chronic rift’ between decisions and their implementation ‘ruinous’ and blamed this partly on ‘bureaucratic inertia’ and partly on the ‘groundless fears’ of some states that ‘someone will snatch away part of their sovereignty’ (RFE/RL Newsline 24 October 1997). The disastrous fact that the CIS was an agreement-generating organization with no force to implement its decisions was both obvious and at the same time difficult to tackle. Criticism of the organization and its inabilities continued from CIS leaders in the last Yeltsin years.5 Regular summits of presidents, premiers, foreign and defence ministers have been the most evident feature of the CIS, also under Putin. The more we look for evidence of more tangible results, the larger looking-glasses we need. A fourth problem for the CIS over the years has been the ‘splinter movements’, or the creation of counter-alliances within the organization itself. Already in 1996, there were four alliances within the CIS: the Central Asian Union, the Union of the four (Russia, Belarus, Kyrgyztan and Kazakhstan), the Union of Belarus and Russia, and GUAM (Georgia, Ukraine, Azerbaijan and Moldova (Uzbekistan joined later, turning GUAM into GUUAM). The GUAM (created in 1998), the most serious of these movements, was the driving factor behind which was a pro-West orientation and general mistrust of Russia (Fuller 2005d; Lieven 2000). In general, Russia perceived GUAM as a pro-Western organization intended to undermine the CIS from within. As a result of the obvious crisis of the CIS in 1996–97 and of the feeling that ‘nothing happens’ within the CIS, there were frequent talks about reorganization. In October 1997, Yeltsin advocated a restructuring of the CIS apparatus, especially the Secretariat, to reduce its personnel to ensure better functioning. In June 1998, Berezovsky noted that the roots of the CIS’s problems were to be found in its bureaucratic administration which was ‘cut off from reality’ (RFE/RL Newsline 8 June 1998). Berezovsky took the issue of reorganization seriously and tried to make some administrative changes in late 1998, and in February 1999 the Russian government designed a plan for reorganizing the CIS. The issue of how to re-model the CIS was thus beginning to take shape in the last Yeltsin years, and in March 1999 Berezovsky suggested that while the former Soviet Union was totally unsuitable as a model, the European Union was the most acceptable development model for the CIS (RFE/RL Newsline 3 March 1999). This was the general situation for the CIS by the time Putin entered the stage. The same type of arguments about the CIS that were found in the Yeltsin years was also heard in Putin’s reign. The argument about Russian domination of the post-Soviet space through the CIS was reinforced by Putin’s own openly professed ambition to lead the former Soviet space, like his statement (in January 2001) that Russia was ‘the natural nucleus’ of integration among the CIS states (RFE/RL Newsline 29 January 2001). Or, for that matter, by the type of law (adopted by the Russian State Duma) which allowed Russia to incorporate either all or part of other countries, alluding to the Russian-populated enclaves in

The Russia-led regional security complex

27

Georgia and Moldova (RFE/RL Newsline 9 July 2001). Another theme that soon became official Putin policy contributed to the sensitiveness of Russia’s neighbours – that Russia should do more to protect its citizens abroad: ‘We obviously do not do enough to protect our diaspora, to protect Russian culture and the Russian language’ (RFE/RL Newsline 29 January 2001).6 The more serious problems became evident in the conflict-ridden regions of the former USSR where eruptions of violence occurred again in 2003 and 2004 (especially in Georgia and Moldova). In summer 2004, Putin predicted that the CIS was facing a tough choice, either to turn itself into an ‘effectively functioning, influential regional organization’ or cease to exist as a geo-political player (Torbakov 2004h). There has been a persistent threat also in the Putin years of a disintegrating CIS. The very argument that the CIS was about to die was particularly common right after 11 September with the US engagement in Central Asia, which was seen as splitting the CIS.7 In 2005, the ‘colour revolutions’ in several CIS countries were also seen as evidence that the CIS was indeed dying (RFE/RL Newsline 5 January 2005).8 Putin seemed determined to counter the ‘attack from the West’, however (Blagov 2005a; Blank 2005a). By September 2005, it seemed evident that Russia was searching for a new approach to distinguish between the ‘loyal’ and the ‘disloyal’ CIS neighbours and use its energy resource and pricing to reward friends and punish enemies (Torbakov 2005e). Much more serious a problem to Russia was the substantial threat that some CIS countries would simply leave the organization. By the time Putin entered the Kremlin, such threats were real. The two most obvious candidates to leave the CIS were Moldova and Georgia, both of which had experienced direct Russian involvement in the frozen conflicts on their territories and both of which were members of the competing organization GUUAM – an organization that in itself was a direct threat to the coherence of CIS. In 2000 and 2001, influential political forces in Moldova suggested that Moldova leave the CIS to join the European Union. The Moldovan President Petru Lucinschi did not cherish that notion, though, and it never became official government policy. The new President Vladimir Voronin in 2001 continued to defend Moldovan membership in the CIS and claimed that the CIS had proved its necessity in its ten years of existence (RFE/RL Newsline 21 November 2001).9 The proCIS orientation of Voronin would not last very long: with the continuous haggling with Russia over the Transdniester, it seemed that Moldova had to make a choice between CIS and the EU. Voronin did not agree, he said that although European integration remains the main goal, Moldova did not intend ‘to become the grave digger of the CIS’ (RFE/RL Newsline 28 July 2003). Nevertheless, it was a common argument that Moldova would leave the CIS only if EU accession required such a move (RFE/RL Newsline 13 August 2003). When Moldova was considered for the European Neighbourhood Policy in 2004, the issue came to the very fore, but the official line still was that European integration ‘does not . . . require Moldova’s exit from the CIS’ (RFE/RL Newsline 24 September 2004). In April 2005, after re-election, Voronin continued to resist new demands to leave the CIS (RFE/RL Newsline 14 April 2005).

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Security and foreign policy towards CIS

Georgia has been another obvious candidate to leave the CIS. While the Georgian Parliament often demanded this in the early Putin period, the Georgian President Eduard Shevardnadze continuously rejected the idea (RFE/RL Newsline 3 April 2001).10 After 11 September, there was some renewed turmoil on the issue of Georgia leaving the CIS when Shevardnadze (in a speech at Harvard University) reportedly said that Georgia’s foreign policy orientation focused on NATO and the West and therefore did not exclude the possibility that Georgia would ‘soon’ quit the CIS (RFE/RL Newsline 4 October 2001).11 Later parliamentary demands were also rejected by Shevardnadze who regarded the notion as ‘premature and impermissible’ (RFE/RL Newsline 28 August 2002). Even in October 2002, when Russian–Georgian relations were the most tense (due to the Chechens operating in Pankisi Gorge), Shevardnadze suggested that the CIS could play ‘a positive role in overcoming the current difficulties in Georgian–Russian relations’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 October 2002). Demands for leaving the CIS have remained strong also under the new Georgian presidency since 2004. In November 2005, the Georgian Parliament voted to leave the CIS, while the government chose not to follow the advice. Even during the deep crisis in 2006, Georgia did not leave the CIS (although leaving the CIS Defence Council and not attending the CIS summer summit), although the new President Mikhail Saakashvili hinted at the possibility (RFE/RL Newsline 3 May 2006 and RFE/RL Newsline 4 May 2006). The particular problem for the CIS with the ‘splinter movements’ continued to threaten CIS cohesion also in Putin’s reign. GUUAM was the strongest alternative with the aim of ending the ‘over-lordship’ of Russia (Torbakov 2001a). September 11 constituted a setback for ‘splinter movements’ like GUUAM, however: both Moldova and Uzbekistan began to doubt the usefulness of GUUAM and in June 2002 Uzbekistan suspended its GUUAM membership (for some time) (Kuzio 2002b). In July the same year, Voronin complained that GUUAM had become an ‘atrophied’ body (RFE/RL Newsline 23 July 2002). GUUAM survived on the free-trade zone idea instead, an idea joined by all except Uzbekistan in July 2002. By summer 2003, the economic dimension prevailed, with customs and transportation issues high on the agenda. Only Ukraine had ratified the free-trade zone agreement, though (Kuzio and Blagov 2003). By summer 2004, GUUAM was in trouble again when the two most powerful members of the GUUAM – Uzbekistan and Ukraine – began discussions on creating the first free-trade zone within the CIS space. The general stalemate within the GUUAM had also ended the discussion on a GUUAM free-trade zone (Fuller 2005d). Developments took a new turn in May 2005, when Ukraine suggested turning the GUUAM into a permanent organization with other goals. The Organization for Democracy and Economic development was set up to promote democratic values and economic development, to increase security and deepen European integration (Fuller 2005d; Saidazimova 2005b). This was a new geopolitical alignment, but Russia saw no ‘anti-Russian factor’ in the new GUAM (RFE/RL Newsline 24 May 2006). The GUUAM took a major loss when Uzbekistan left the organization in 2006 and rejoined the CSTO instead.

The Russia-led regional security complex

29

Despite the negative aspects, Yeltsin’s heritance was clear in that the CIS countries were to remain prioritized in Russian foreign policy. As seen above, in the Foreign Policy Concept from June 2000, the CIS was the noted first priority, and Putin himself often said that expanding ties with the CIS remained ‘our absolute priority’ (RFE/RL Newsline 29 January 2001). From early 2001, when Putin had already established good relations with many of the CIS countries that had been neglected by Yeltsin (Ukraine, Azerbaijan, Moldova), Putin’s focus with respect to the CIS also changed. He now seemed to have decided to deal with the CIS countries on a bilateral basis, to rely on market mechanisms rather than on inter-government agreements. Sergey Ivanov frankly stated that Russia did not want to be tied down by multilateral arrangements (Nezavisimaya Gazeta on 7 February 2001, p. 5). The crisis in the CIS was evident, and in spring 2001 Putin set out to re-inject some energy into the dying organization. In May, the executive secretary of the CIS launched ‘an operation to save the CIS’ and visited all CIS capitals (RFE/RL Newsline 18 May 2001). There were also some minor attempts to re-integrate the CIS countries when Russia and the CIS decided to create a common educational space and to set up university branches in each other’s country. Other integration efforts included a common banking system. In an interview on the status of the CIS, Putin re-affirmed that the CIS remained the number one priority of Russian foreign policy (Putin press conference 1 August 2001). September 11 itself generated a boom of integration on ‘soft’ security issues. In October 2001, the Russian Security Council secretary Vladimir Rushailo urged the CIS to coordinate the work of security bodies, and the tax enforcement agencies were urged to work closely to prevent money laundering and related crimes (RFE/RL Newsline 15 October 2001). As a matter of principle, of course, Putin could not but be optimistic about CIS developments. At the CIS tenth anniversary summit in late 2001, he said that the CIS had served as ‘a necessary and inevitable’ vehicle for integration between the post-Soviet states (RFE/RL Newsline 3 December 2001; Putin appearance 30 November 2001).12 In his annual address to the Federation Council in April 2002, Putin reassured that the CIS remained the ‘main priority’ in Russia’s foreign policy (Putin 18 April 2002). To further boost integration, in summer 2002 Putin established a new Main Administration for CIS Affairs within the presidential administration. In 2003, Russia tried to use the fact that the USA was tied down in Iraq to strengthen its hold over the CIS countries that had become wary of US change of engagement (Torbakov 2003a). Again, in his annual address to the Federation Council in May 2003, Putin emphasized that the strengthening of CIS relations was the highest priority of Russian foreign policy (Putin 16 May 2003). In 2004 and 2005, two developments within the CIS sphere were evident, both of which, at least on the surface, strengthened CIS integration efforts. One was the new Russian policy of arranging economic relations in a fashion similar to that of the European Union. In June 2004, Putin made the most clear allusion of the Russian goals with the CIS in saying that the CIS ‘are now working to restore what was lost with the fall of the Soviet Union but are doing it on a new,

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Security and foreign policy towards CIS

modern basis’. The difference was, of course, that in the new ‘Eurasian Union’, Russia would be the primus inter pares (RFE/RL Newsline 18 June 2004).13 Later, at a Security Council session, Putin reaffirmed that ‘stable development and economic progress’ was ‘the fundamental principle and the starting point’ for all Russian activity in the CIS (Putin speech 19 July 2004). However, he also warned that ‘we are faced with an alternative: either we achieve a qualitative strengthening of the CIS – or this structure will be washed away from the geopolitical space’ (RFE/RL Newsline 20 July 2004). The fact that the type of integration effort was a different one was soon to become evident. In August 2005, Lavrov explained that relations between the CIS states from now on should be based on international law and not on a privileged situation, suggesting that Soviet-style dependency relations and solutions would cease to exist in the organization (RFE/RL Newsline 24 August 2005; Saradzhyan 2005b). Putin asked the CIS leaders to ‘work out a new model of integration’ (Putin speech 26 August 2005; Medetsky 2005b), and Lavrov underscored that the CIS needed to reform and to end programmes that did not work (RFE/RL Newsline 13 January 2006). Trade liberalization had become the basic issue (Lissovolik 2005). This effort will be discussed more in detail below. The other new development in 2004 and 2005 was the implications of the ‘war of norms’ between Russia and the West during the ‘colour revolutions’. While the general issue was the Western effort to change the rules for elections in Eurasia, the more specific point was that Russia believed itself to be the example of governance set for the region. The ‘rose revolution’ in Georgia in late 2003 and the ‘orange revolution’ in Ukraine in late 2004 showed an alternative way, and were used by Russia as evident examples of Western attempts to influence the political map of Eurasia.14 The Kyrgyz ‘tulip revolution’ in March 2005 was (although very different) generally seen as another attempt at ‘colour revolutions’ likely to be followed by others, to which the regime response would be violent. The OSCE was particularly targeted by Russian officials calling its approach ‘one-sided’ in its focus on the CIS sphere (RFE/RL Newsline 6 April 2005), and the ‘colour revolutions’ were seen as ‘coordinated campaigns’ against Russia by the West in official Russian statements (RFE/RL Newsline 10 May 2005). Putin himself was no stranger to this argument, although using it with some caution (RFE/RL Newsline 14 June 2005). Later, he warned that democratic reforms could plunge CIS countries into chaos (RFE/RL Newsline 6 September 2005).15 In conclusion, the CIS has been permanently tormented by its own weaknesses, and by the fear that Russia would use the organization for its own objectives. Verbally, ambitions have been high, but in practice the agreements have remained ink on paper. The importance of the CIS to Russia lies elsewhere, as a means to handle integration in the military and economic fields. Security and defence integration, on the one hand, and economic integration on the other have been two very evident issue areas in Putin’s presidency.16 Below, I will first describe the CIS as an instrument for defence and security integration since its

The Russia-led regional security complex

31

inauguration, and then turn to the CIS as an instrument for economic integration. These are parallel developments and not as unrelated as the separation of stories below indicate.

2.2 The CIS as a means of defence integration – the Collective Security Treaty No joint CIS military forces have ever been created. In December 1991, CIS created a Joint Military Command (on paper), but dissolved it in July 1993 (Donaldson and Nogee 2002: 160). CIS peace-keeping forces were agreed upon in 1992 (Cimbala 2001: 153). By the turn of the millennia, the peace-keeping function of the CIS has been complemented by an anti-terrorism function (Jonson 2001: 104–105). Before looking closer at the Collective Security Treaty signed by some of the CIS states and its integrative capacities, a few simple facts of defence integration in the larger CIS context should be noted. Some factors were indeed pointing in the direction of the CIS turning into a defence oriented organization in the second half of the 1990s. The most evident was related to the threat of Islamic fundamentalism spreading from Afghanistan into Central Asia and the Caucasus, which also coloured the Russian security response.17 Strong words were used by the presidents of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan and by the Russian Prime Minister Viktor Chernomyrdin in discussing the situation in Afghanistan in 1997. In August 1999, Yeltsin urged Tajikistan and Uzbekistan to unite with Russia in an effort ‘to raise a barrier to the Taliban’ (RFE/RL Newsline 17 August 1998). It would take very much more to unite the CIS countries under a common defence idea, however, and although individual bilateral defence relations developed quite well (Russian defence relations with Armenia, Belarus and Tajikistan were the most prominent), a common threat perception was missing.18 The other major factor that pushed the CIS into a defence-oriented organization in the 1990s was the NATO enlargement process. Under Yeltsin, the CIS was at times seen as a counterweight to NATO, and it was important to Russia that the CIS countries had a common stance on NATO although that was not at all Yeltsin’s official position (OMRI DD 6 December 1996). By late 1998 and early 1999, Russian anti-US and anti-NATO feelings were transmitted also into the CIS. The NATO air strikes in Yugoslavia in spring 1999 increased Russian efforts to find a common CIS platform, and the defence ministers of Azerbaijan, Armenia, Belarus, Kyrgyztan, Russia and Tajikistan adopted a joint statement that condemned the air strikes as ‘inhuman’ and ‘a threat to peace and security’ (RFE/RL Newsline 26 March 1999). Russia was not successful, however, in uniting all of CIS against NATO air strikes in Serbia. There have been some successful practical defence cooperation attempts in the CIS since the mid-1990s, though. Defence cooperation generally was the field of some successful integration within the CIS under Yeltsin, and the air defence system was the most successful integration attempt (Trenin 2002: 113). At a CIS summit in January 1996, security and defence issues dominated the

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agenda, with particular focus on external borders and on an integrated air defence system.19 The CIS Air Defence System, which was directly tied to NATO enlargement, was inaugurated in summer 1996 when the Russian, Belarusian, Kazakhstani and Georgian air defence forces went on joint patrols. Armenia, Kyrgyztan and Tajikistan joined later. Air defence integration has continued under Putin who claimed it to be ‘a sphere of our most efficient cooperation’ (RFE/RL Newsline 11 December 2003). After 11 September, the meaning of ‘Islamic terrorism’ changed drastically. Not only did Russia find it convenient to use the US war against the Talibans to fight its own war in Chechnya, but 11 September also gave a boost to security cooperation within the CIS at large. Already by the end of September 2001, senior military commanders from nine of the 11 other former Soviet republics (all except Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan) met in Moscow to coordinate their counter-terrorist and border security policies. Putin, calling the CIS countries Russia’s ‘brothers’, noted the common heritage as ‘multicultural and multireligious’ states, and their commitment in the fight against terrorism. Putin begged for a CIS Antiterrorist Centre and promised to pay 50 per cent of its budget (RFE/RL Newsline 1 October 2001). Anti-terrorism thus gave the CIS a boom, and the embryo to a defence organization that existed when Putin became President of Russia took root. The more formal defence cooperation efforts within the CIS has been conducted within the framework of the Tashkent Treaty on Collective Security that was signed in May 1992 by nine of the former 15 Soviet republics (Russia, Belarus, Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, i.e. all except the three Baltic states, Ukraine, Moldova and Turkmenistan). The status of the CST was unclear in its first years of existence, but if one looks at its provisions, it is obvious that the CST has little to do with collective security (Zagorsky 1998: 285).20 The treaty constituted an embryo of a joint defence organization to counter external threats but did not see much of actual military integration (Jonson 2001: 104). There are basically three regionally based army groups corresponding to the three regional sub-complexes, the Russia–Belarusian in the west, the Russia–Armenian in the Caucasus and the Russia–Kazakh–Kyrgyz in the east. As an anti-NATO alliance, the CST has basically failed (Bugajski 2004: 57). The CST was in a deep crisis in spring 1999, however, since only six countries (Russia, Armenia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan and Tajikistan) extended their participation in the organization when it expired in April (leaving Georgia, Azerbaijan and Uzbekistan on the outside).21 In May, Russia proposed a coalition military strategy comparable to that provided for by the Russia–Belarus Union, and in fall 1999, Russia was prepared to provide antiaircraft systems and fighters to CIS countries on a ‘long-term lease’ basis, probably as a way of gluing the Treaty states together. A certain degree of desperation was felt on the Russian side by the time Putin entered the scene. It would take a new turn of events for the situation drastically to change;

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while house bombings in Moscow and a second Chechnya war was not enough to re-inject new life into the CST, the attack on the Twin Towers in New York started a process that increased the status and importance of the CST and Russia’s defence-related role in the CIS as a whole. As we recall, the conflict with the United States over the abrogation of the ABM Treaty, the new NATO doctrine and the NATO expansion plans were soon forgotten after 11 September. The US retaliation against the Taliban in Afghanistan had to be handled by the CIS countries, though. While Russia at first gave a typical backbone reaction, opposing US bases in Central Asia (Sergey Ivanov), Putin and his Foreign Minister Igor Ivanov soon changed the tune. On 19 September, Igor Ivanov said that every CIS country had the right to decide for itself whether to allow third countries to make use of the military bases on its territory.22 Of course, already from the beginning the general Russian feeling was that Russia had indeed been ousted from the Central Asian scene by the United States. One of the immediate effects for the CIS, however, was rather a boom of anti-terrorism activities of the CIS itself. In effect, 11 September gave Putin an opportunity to enhance the importance of CIS and its security arrangements (Alibekov and Blagov 2003). The anti-terrorism theme was to become a standard argument from now on within the CIS and the CST. It was obvious that the new post-11 September situation would inspire also Russian defence planners. In October 2003, a new Russian military reform doctrine devoted to modernization was presented by Putin (Putin address 2 October 2003; RFE/RL Newsline 3 October 2003). Among other things, the doctrine suggested the possibility of Russia launching pre-emptive military strikes within the CIS. Before its formal adoption, Sergey Ivanov outlined situations in which Russia might carry out pre-emptive military strikes: if there was a distinct, clear and inevitable military threat to the country; if it was threatened with reduced access to regions where it has crucial economic or financial interests; if a complex, unstable situation developed, or if there was a direct threat to Russian citizens or ethnic Russians (RFE/RL Newsline 6 October 2003). The new doctrine worried some neighbouring states, of course, especially those that were implicitly pointed at (Moldova and Georgia).23 Under Putin, the organization of the security aspects has been the most intense in the realm of the Collective Security Treaty. Although the Taliban threat had been on the Russian security agenda since the mid-1990s, Putin had a particular interest in pursuing the new type of threat – terrorism – as a method for strengthening the CST. Immediately after Putin’s election victory in 2000, then Russian Security Council Secretary Sergey Ivanov urged his colleagues in Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, Armenia and Tajikistan to fight the spread of narcotics, illegal migration and terrorism. He could not rule out ‘pre-emptive strikes’ against terrorist groups in Afghanistan (RFE/RL Newsline 10 April 2000). In May, the presidents of the CST countries agreed to increase cooperation in response to the growing threats of international terrorism and extremism and adopted nine documents that opened the ‘possibility to use force and collective security means’. Putin said that ‘a mechanism has been worked out to make

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this treaty a viable instrument capable of responding to the changing world not only today but also in the future’. Furthermore, a joint statement said the adopted documents opened the ‘possibility to use force and collective security means’ (RFE/RL Newsline 25 May 2000). In June the same year, the CIS created an anti-terrorism centre in Bishkek which Putin welcomed as ‘a crucial step forward in the fight against religious terrorism and extremism in the postSoviet space’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 June 2000). In October, the six CST presidents expressed concern for the increased threat posed to Central Asia by international terrorism and political and religious extremism emanating from Afghanistan. They also decided, in principle, to create a joint rapid deployment force of four battalions that could counter a threat of external aggression or terrorism, to which I return further below. What this shows is that Russia was well ahead of the USA in actually contemplating conventional military force against international terrorism. The greatest change was yet to come, however. At a summit in May 2002 to mark the tenth anniversary of the CST, the defence and foreign ministers of the six signatory states suggested that the Treaty be transformed into an international regional organization, the Collective Security Treaty Organization. Despite some initial Russian hesitation, in April 2003, the presidents signed the new Treaty of the Organization of the Treaty on Collective Security (CSTO).24 The organization would have its own budget, secretariat, military staff and rapid-deployment force. Its main military base would be at the Kant airfield in Kyrgyztan (not far from a recently established US military installation for its Afghanistan operations). Putin emphasized that the CSTO, as opposed to the CIS or SCO, had a military component and the military purpose was to ‘ensure the security, territorial integrity and sovereignty of member countries’ (Putin press conference 28 April 2003). Lukashenka suggested that the organization should contain NATO, but Putin disagreed (Nezavisimaya Gazeta 29 April 2003).25 CSTO cohesion was further cemented by the united front to the Iraq war. At the CIS summit in October 2002, Russia attempted to persuade the other CIS member states to refrain from involvement in the military operation against Iraq (Moscow Times 8 October 2002; RFE/RL Newsline 8 October 2002; Nezavisimaya Gazeta 8 October 2002). This did not succeed. Instead, in November 2002, Foreign Minister Igor Ivanov called on the CSTO countries to ‘demonstrate the efficiency of the organization’ by showing that they ‘are not indifferent to what is going on along the CIS borders and in the region in general’, that the organization should ‘act within the framework of the single UN strategy’ (RFE/RL Newsline 5 November 2002). In March 2003, at the onset of the invasion of Iraq, the CSTO adopted a joint statement expressing ‘profound concern’ that the invasion did not meet the formal approval of the UN Security Council and therefore was ‘fraught with possible serious consequences’ for the common security system (RFE/RL Newsline 22 March 2003).26 This transformation of the CST into an organization with some clout was the most important formal aspect of the CST development in Putin’s first term. But there were also others, including practical matters that indeed bore some integra-

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tion potential, the most successful of which was the principal agreement in October 2000 to create a joint rapid reaction force that could be sent to any of the member states to help counter a threat of external aggression or terrorism.27 In April and May 2001, two summits of the six CST presidents agreed to proceed with the creation of a joint 3,000-man rapid reaction force with headquarters in Bishkek, especially focusing on the Taliban threat. In August 2001, the first command staff exercise of the rapid reaction force took place. Frequent military exercises were seen as the backbone of the Rapid Reaction Force which held their ‘South – Antiterror 2002’ staff exercises in Bishkek with some 500 troops designed to improve cooperation in combating an invasion by ‘bandit formations’, meaning the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan (which was believed to be on the border between Afghanistan and Tajikistan) (RFE/RL Newsline 13 June 2002). In December 2002, Russian combat aircraft were delivered to Kant airbase for the Rapid Reaction Force (ten fighters, five training aircraft, two transport planes and two helicopters). Putin suggested that the aircraft gave the CST forces ‘an entirely different qualitative significance’ (Putin statement 5 December 2002). In January 2003, an agreement was reached on the terms under which Russian fighter aircraft would be deployed at the Kant airbase, and in April, some 500 Russian soldiers arrived. In Kyrgyztan, the official explanation for the Russian air forces at the Kant airbase was to supplement the presence of US air forces at the Manas airbase, and that both would be involved in neutralizing threats to regional security.28 In June 2003, a summit of the CSTO countries established ways and means of cooperation between the CSTO and NATO (Nezavisimaya Gazeta 16 June 2003), and in November, the CSTO foreign ministers met to discuss CSTO relations with NATO and the situation in Afghanistan. The organization decided to work with NATO instead of competing with it.29 There remained some uncertainties in Kant airbase in Kyrgyztan, however, and the inauguration of the base was postponed until September. The agreement on the Kant airbase was the result of many months of negotiations (particularly over funding issues), and the final agreement specified that Russia would fund the base but it would not have to pay rent. At the signing ceremony in October, Putin commented that the opening of the Kant base was the first step in augmenting Russian presence in the Central Asian region: ‘Central Asia is a very important region for us’ (RFE/RL Newsline 23 September 2003). Putin called the Kant airbase ‘an aviation haven for the swift deployment forces for Central Asia’ that makes possible ‘efficient response to possible threats’ (Putin speech 23 October 2003). He also called it the first Russian base after the demise of the USSR that had ‘a sound legal basis’ (Putin press statement 23 October 2003). Putin later said that unlike the anti-terrorism coalition base at Manas airport, the Kant airbase was a ‘permanent’ establishment (RFE/RL Newsline 27 October 2003 and RFE/RL Central Asia Report 24 October 2003). According to Putin, the Rapid Reaction Force together with the Kant airbase was to be the backbone of the CSTO (see Putin speech 23 October 2003; Putin address 10 December 2003).

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The Kant airbase was soon to become more forceful. In early 2004, the number of military personnel stationed at the Kant airbase rose to 800, and the number of aircraft stationed at the base was doubled. In May, the Kyrgyztan Parliament ratified an agreement that granted immunity to Russian servicemen deployed to the Kant airbase (the same status as US troops stationed in Kyrgyztan). In August, there were joint military exercises of the CSTO on counterinsurgency tactical training of the Rapid Deployment Forces, known as ‘Rubezh (Frontier) 2004’, first in Kazakhstan, then in Kyrgyztan, with some 2,000 troops. In April 2005, the CSTO military exercises ‘Rubezh 2005’ were held in Tajikistan. In August, several functions of the CIS defence cooperation seemed to be moved to the CSTO instead, including air defence, and military exercises formally under the CIS flag included only the CSTO countries (Kaczmarski 2006). In October 2005, another military development was initiated when the Secretary General of the CSTO announced that ‘a large group of force’ would be created in Central Asia of the same type as the two in Belarus and Armenia (the Russia–Belarusian and Russian–Armenian integrated army groups), with the purpose of defending the territories of the CSTO countries (RFE/RL Newsline 12 October 2005). Late in the year, Sergey Ivanov declared the possibility of enlarging the CSTO to include new members, while Lavrov urged cooperation between the CSTO and NATO (RFE/RL Newsline 9 December 2005). In summer 2006, Uzbekistan joined the CSTO after it had left GUUAM in the spring, to the joy of Russia. In August 2006, the CIS held military exercises ‘Rubezh 2006’ which in effect involved only the CSTO countries. In more than one sense, the Russian security interests in Central Asia increased from 1999 and further still after 11 September, but it was vehemently rejected that it was a reaction to US deployments in the region. Russia’s higher profile was rather ‘dictated by Russia’s foreign political interests’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 December 2002). The fact is, however, that the mutual anti-terrorism interests of Russia and the United States indeed contributed to increased CST cooperation. The involvement of the USA in Central Asia thus heightened also Russia’s profile in the regional sub-complex. September 11 was in a sense the catalyst without which Russia’s security interests in the region might have remained at a fairly low level, as it definitely was in the Yeltsin years. Putin used the US post11 September presence in Central Asia to increase Russia’s own profile in the years that followed. Only much later, by 2004 and 2005, did it become evident that Russia would keep its military presence and postures in Central Asia regardless of whether the United States would withdraw or not. Russia’s interests in making something real of the CST is evident from the general interest of turning the CIS countries orientation to security, but also from pure necessity and need. Russia feels responsible not only for the security of Russia, but also for that of the former Soviet space (see Putin Annual address 10 May 2006).

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2.3 The CIS as a means of economic integration – the Single Economic Space The other integration glue of the CIS has been the attempts at coordinating trade and economic cooperation. Of these attempts, the idea of a free-trade zone or a customs union within the CIS has been most persistent. The CIS presidents signed a framework agreement on establishing a free-trade zone already in April 1994. The agreement was never implemented, however, and no concrete measures for achieving a customs union was ever prepared in Yeltsin’s years (Fuller 1998). In October 1997, the presidents of the ‘Big Four’ (Russia, Belarus, Ukraine and Kazakhstan) adopted a document providing for the introduction of unified customs duties by the end of 1997.30 The new CIS Executive Secretary Boris Berezovsky resurfaced the idea in 1998 and succeeded in getting the support of the CIS presidents for a detailed plan to implement the agreement. He was fired before he managed to implement the plan though (Fuller 1998). Putin early on opted for an evolution of the former CIS structures in the economic sector. One of the reasons was that trade turnover between the CIS countries had fallen to one-third of the 1992 level. Soon after the Russian presidential elections in 2000, new initiatives surfaced, but a summit of the CIS customs union (now consisting of Russia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan and Tajikistan) failed to reach agreement on a free-trade zone within the union. Armenia was also a possible newcomer to the union. A wider free-trade zone within the CIS was still on the agenda, though, and in June 2000 all 12 CIS presidents approved a programme of ten specific steps to establish a CIS free-trade zone.31 At a CIS summit in Minsk in June 2001, Putin noted that: ‘. . . a free-trade zone practically has almost been formed. The Russian Federation has signed bilateral agreements with all CIS states. The question remains unresolved only with Ukraine’ (RFE/RL Newsline 4 June 2001; Putin statement 1 June 2001). In August the same year, some CIS ambassadors concluded that although the CIS had made no progress for the past eight years, it might in the relatively near future become something like the European Union (RFE/RL Newsline 22 August 2001). This new economic stance of resembling the EU was predicted to be the tool of survival for the CIS.32 After the failure to create a customs union in 1999, Putin initiated another idea of an economic structure, the Eurasian Economic Community – EEC – created by the five CIS customs union members in October 2000 and went into effect in April 2001 (Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, Russia and Tajikistan – the same state as those in the CST except Armenia). He intended to transform the existing customs union into a common economic space, but also said the new union would have ‘social and humanitarian’ aspects that he hoped would bring ‘positive results for the people’ (RFE/RL Newsline 11 October 2000).33 In May 2001, the five EEC presidents approved a number of founding documents (including regulations for the EEC’s governing bodies) and said in a statement that the EEC’s priority tasks were to form a full-fledged customs union and a ‘common economic space’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 June 2001). A year later, in

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May 2002, Kazakhstan’s President Nursultan Nazarbaev described EEC’s problem as coordinating trade policies once all states had become members of the World Trade Organization. The organization obviously had a growth potential and both Moldova and Ukraine were granted observer status.34 Later in 2002, Putin assured that the EEC had a great potential precisely because, unlike the CIS, it is ‘directed solely to dealing with economic problems’ (Putin statement 5 December 2002). By December 2002, a definite treaty on a CIS free-trade zone was presented as the more general trade issue also within the Russia–Belarus Union (where such discussions had come the furthest). This time (nothing had become of the 1994 and 1998 attempts), the issue was quickly developed and the ‘CIS Big Four’ (Russia, Ukraine, Belarus and Kazakhstan) formally agreed to create a ‘joint economic space’ with the purpose of creating a new economic alliance to replace the CIS. Such a treaty would (in the words of the prime ministers) ‘open a new stage in the development of trade relations within the CIS’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 December 2002). The approach was one of different paces of integration, and the general idea was to begin with those countries that were the most willing to integrate (or to have integration at different speeds) (Bugajski 2004: 58). In January 2003, the Ukrainian President Leonid Kuchma said that such a zone would ‘help us feel safe in the rough sea of globalization’ while the Belarusian President Aleksander Lukashenka prophesied that such a zone would also liquidate other economic and semi-economic formations like the Eurasian Economic Community or GUUAM (RFE/RL Newsline 30 January 2003). Optimism was high. The idea acquired a more definite shape a month later when the presidents of ‘the Big Four’ at an unexpected meeting in a Moscow suburb reached an agreement in principle to create a ‘joint economic space’ to be formalized in September after a period of coordinating economic policies. The ultimate goal was to create a regional integration organization where economics would rule over politics, an idea similar to that of the EU project idea that Putin had floated earlier. By April 2003, the main stumbling blocks for a single economic space had already been detected, but Putin was still optimistic on the timetable for a basic framework to be signed in September. He also wanted to link the CIS countries to a ‘single economic space’ with the EU. By August, some of the problem issues had been lifted out of the negotiations: Ukraine did not want to coordinate its entry into WTO with Russia any longer, and the four states were no longer considering a common currency or a common customs union. Despite this, there was still some fear that members would be deprived of their state sovereignty, especially in Ukraine which feared that its course toward Euro–Atlantic integration and the WTO would be hampered by the arrangements of the ‘Big Four’. The CIS summit in Yalta in September 2003 proved a success for the idea of a free-trade zone and many draft documents on a CIS free-trade zone were agreed upon. The presidents of Russia, Ukraine, Belarus and Kazakhstan signed the accord on the creation of a single economic space – the SES. Optimism was running high. Kazakhstan’s President Nazarbaev called the SES ‘a very serious

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step toward real integration in the 12-year history (of the CIS)’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 September 2003), and Ukraine’s President Kuchma suggested that the SES allowed for a switch to a ‘subsequent, higher stage of mutual relations’, adding that ‘when the European markets are closed for us . . . it is better to have a real bird in the hand than two in the bush’. Putin reassured those who feared that the SES represented a step toward restoring the Soviet Union that this idea was ‘pure nonsense’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 September 2003).35 In a first stage, the countries were to form a free-trade zone that ruled out the use of anti-dumping and non-tariff market-protection measures. At the close of a CIS summit in Yalta, Kuchma said that the implementation of the documents would allow CIS members to create a full-scale free-trade zone and to switch to a ‘subsequent, higher stage of mutual relations’, and reassured that ‘[w]e have reached consensus on practically all issues’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 September 2003). This twostep approach of establishing the SES among the ‘Big Four’ at the same time as agreeing on CIS free-trade zone measures was a new strategy similar to the one that at the time was to be adopted by Germany, France and the UK within the EU.36 After 2003, the SES issue developed slowly. In April 2004, members of the high-level working group for the SES announced that the necessary agreements would be ready only by the end of the year and that a significant number of legislative hurdles remained before the SES could become a reality. The agreement on the SES seemed safely ashore, though, and the ratification of the SES treaty took place in April 2004 in all four countries. Optimism was still high, and Kuchma and Putin called the ratified treaty a crucial event that opened new opportunities for developing political dialogue as well as economic and cultural cooperation. Putin wanted the SES treaty to develop into ‘an economiccooperation charter to regulate the procedures for our joint work in the areas of transport, tariffs, communications, [and the] movement of people and goods’ (RFE/RL Newsline 26 April 2004). In May, Putin stated that he was prepared to create a ‘full-fledged free-trade zone’ despite likely Russian short-term losses (RFE/RL Newsline 17 May 2004). At a Crimean summit of the ‘Big Four’ in May, there were evident problems, though, and Putin did not succeed in convincing the other leaders of adopting a single ‘economic constitution’, and in the end 61 separate agreements were drafted instead (to be presented to the next SES summit in Astana in September). The four presidents of Russia, Ukraine, Belarus and Kazakhstan pledged that they would proceed with the implementation of the SES treaty: ‘The primary objective of the next stage in the evolution of the [SES] is to formulate as quickly as possible a workable regulatory and legal basis for economic cooperation’, Putin said (RFE/RL Newsline 25 May 2004).37 Putin also stated that the agreement should be ‘practical in content’, and that the economic integration and ‘free movement of goods, services, capital and labour will become a powerful driving force for economic growth and modernization of our countries’ (Putin speech 24 May 2004). He also noted that ‘certain elements’ of the SES already existed in the Russia–Belarus relationship and that trade turnover

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therefore was three times greater than that between Russia and Ukraine despite the much greater potential for trade of the latter relationship (Putin statement 24 May 2004). In his address to the Russian Federal Assembly in May 2004, Putin emphasized the importance of the integration within the CIS and especially within the SES and the EEC, calling it a ‘condition of regional and international stability’ (Putin address 26 May 2004). At the September summit in Astana, the four presidents signed an agreement on the value-added tax (VAT) on a destination-country principle and decided to develop documents to ease border-crossings for citizens of member states. Putin noted that Russia was at least initially taking losses from its energy exports (Putin speech 15 September 2004). In December, senior officials reached agreement on the free transfer of persons, their vehicles and funds across state borders. The Ukrainian ‘orange revolution’ was bound to cause problems to the process, although Ukraine’s new leadership did not seem to immediately change attitudes towards the creation of SES, or as Viktor Yushchenko stated, as long as ‘it corresponds to [our] national interest and does not obstruct [Ukraine] moving toward other markets’ (RFE/RL Newsline 25 January 2005). In March 2005, when Putin met with Yushchenko on his first visit to Ukraine following the ‘orange revolution’, the SES was on the agenda and Putin said that ‘[w]idening our bilateral cooperation will depend in large part on how successful we are in forming a Single Economic Space’ and continued with a conviction ‘that if we can effectively implement this idea, it will give our countries more opportunities for developing trade and mutual investments in order to strengthen the competitiveness of our economies’ (RFE/RL Newsline 21 March 2005). In May, at another summit between Putin and Yushchenko, the latter affirmed that the SES and a free-trade zone were priorities in the bilateral relationship (RFE/RL Newsline 9 May 2005). In August, however, there were some contradictory signals on the subject and Ukraine opposed the creation of a customs union (RFE/RL Newsline 16 August 2005), and was said even to be able to withdraw from the SES (RFE/RL Newsline 22 August 2005). The other signatories of the SES proceeded with the SES project and promised to sign 29 documents by December and another 15 by March 2006. Yushchenko now promised that Ukraine would enter the SES only gradually and only ‘insofar as it does not obstruct Ukraine’s move toward Europe’ (RFE/RL Newsline 29 August 2005). The process towards a SES was obviously running into more serious problems, but in part also overtaken by the developments of the EEC. In February 2004, the EEC governments signed documents to ‘harmonize and coordinate positions on entry into the WTO’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 March 2004). In April, a presidential summit of the EEC endorsed a priority programme for the next four years which included the creation of a common customs area, the development of energy resources, the establishment of a transport union, and a common agricultural market, as well as common efforts to combat drug trafficking, and to find a common migration policy. At an EEC summit in June, the member states signed a treaty on harmonizing legisla-

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tion and Putin called the EEC the ‘locomotive of integrationist processes in the CIS’. Uzbekistan and Ukraine announced that they would create the first freetrade zone in the CIS (RFE/RL Newsline 21 June 2004). Not much more followed, though, although in 2005 there was a general upgrading of the EEC when CACO and EEC merged (RFE/RL Newsline 7 October 2005). The prospects for a positive development had already become seriously dimmed by now, though. In spring 2006, Uzbekistan joined the EEC, which was hailed by Putin to further the integration process, as did the creation of an EEC bank (Putin statement 25 January 2006). The prime goal was now to coordinate WTO entrance of the member states. Progress was slow, though, and the Sochi summit in August was ‘mostly symbolism’ since conflicts held up the creation of the customs union (RFE/RL Newsline 17 August 2006). In conclusion, the SES and EEC have seen the same pattern as the CIS at large, the tendency to sign principal agreements only later to negotiate the details and then, if successful, to ratify them. In this case, too, this seems to be the wrong strategy. What is more, this strategy increased suspicions that Russia needed the SES simply to buy ‘the most valuable and profitable enterprises’ in the CIS (RFE/RL Newsline 26 May 2004). The fact that the purposeful attempts of Ukraine to integrate with the EU could be seen as a problem to the SES has not made Putin’s strategy anyway easier. While the future of the SES is still dim, the attempt to create the SES among the ‘Big Four’ suggests the seriousness of Putin’s attempt to re-integrate the economies of ‘the most willing’. Similar to Putin’s infusion into the CIS of new vitality for some (brief) time, so did the SES issue in September 2004 infuse some hope of organized economic integration, only later to fade away in the face of realities and new political constellations (Fuller 2005g). The fate of the EEC is similar.

2.4 The Shanghai Cooperation Organization and other regional organizations In the setting of the Shanghai Five (later) Shanghai Six and (still later) Shanghai Cooperation Organization, ‘soft’ security issues were the most important. The initial goal was to regulate borders in Central Asia, Russia and China, and reduce military forces along borders (Burnashev 2002: 136). The history of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization parallels the general Russian foreign policy reorientation, first under Primakov and the development in Afghanistan in the late 1990s, and then with Putin’s post 11 September foreign policy re-orientation. It all began when Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, Tajikistan and China signed border agreements in Shanghai in 1996. In 1998, a summit of the five agreed that the 7,000kilometre border had now been turned into a ‘frontier of co-operation, friendship, and complete trust’ (RFE/RL Newsline 3 July 1998). In July 2000, the Shanghai Five became the ‘Shanghai Forum’ (Mamadshoyev 2000a). Anti-terrorism was a prime motivation for Putin’s policies in Central Asia even before 11 September (Gleason 2001). In April 2001, the foreign ministers

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of the ‘Shanghai Forum’ signed an international treaty committing them to fight against terrorism, separatism and extremism. At a summit in June when the five turned six – Uzbekistan joined – Putin called for reinforcing the fight against extremism and terrorism in Central Asia, and promised that Russia was ‘a natural, very good, and promising partner not only for China’ (RFE/RL Newsline 14 June 2001). At the summit, the SCO was born (although not yet formalized) and Putin said that the slogan ‘security by cooperation’ engulfed the very essence of the organization (Putin statement 15 June 2001). In August the same year, the security agencies of the five states met in Bishkek to discuss the implementation of an agreement to create a combined anti-terrorist centre. Russia’s foreign policy goals with respect to Central Asia were specified at a conference of foreign ministers from the ‘Shanghai Six’ when Igor Ivanov stressed that a global anti-terrorist system should rely on regional structures (RFE/RL Newsline 7 January 2002). In a joint statement, the foreign ministers pledged to expand their role in the international anti-terrorist coalition led by the United States and to contribute – on national, regional and global levels – to the prevention of terrorism, extremism, separatism and drug trafficking that might originate from Afghanistan (RFE/RL Newsline 8 January 2002). Security and ‘anti-terrorism’ further heightened in April 2002 (Blagov 2002b). The ‘Shanghai Six’ became a full-fledged international organization – SCO (Shanghai Cooperation Organization) – in June 2002 when the member states signed the legal charter at yet another summit. Putin insisted that Russia ‘bear[s] a special responsibility for security and stability in Central Asia’ (Putin statement 7 June 2002; Putin press conference 7 June 2002; RFE/RL Newsline 7 June 2002). The Secretariat was to be located in Beijing and an anti-terrorism centre in Bishkek (Blagov 2002d). In December 2002, on a trip to Asia, Putin openly pushed for the SCO to counter the United States in Asia (Blagov 2002h). The next summit of the SCO took place in May 2003, when Putin met with the presidents of China, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan to adopt a budget, symbols and statutory documents and to establish headquarters in Beijing (see Putin statement 29 May 2003). By now, it was decided that Uzbekistan would take over the chairmanship and that the regional anti-terrorism centre would be established in Tashkent (rather than in Bishkek) (RFE/RL Newsline 3 June 2003).38 In August, anti-terrorism exercises were initiated in Kazakhstan and continued in Xinjiang (in China) a few days later (McDermott 2003). In September, the general prosecutors of the six SCO members approved a strategy for fighting international terrorism, religious extremism, drug and arms trafficking, and international organized crime, particularly focusing on narcotics, human trafficking and economic crimes. There were official denials that the SCO was directed at the West or the United States, although that seemed to be the general interpretation at the time. In March 2004, the SCO was specifically said never to become an anti-Western military or political alliance, and that the SCO was ‘not moving toward a military alliance’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 March 2004). There was also a certain movement from the military to the economic field of activity when Uzbekistan

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officially called for ‘developing a unified approach to the creation of a common regional market’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 April 2004). At the SCO summit in June, Putin said that the focus was the fight against extremism, the threat of drug trafficking, and efforts to increase economic cooperation (Putin 17 June 2004; RFE/RL Newsline 17 June 2004). The SCO prime ministers later met in Bishkek and discussed the transportation, telecommunications, energy and agricultural sectors (Mite 2004). Astana harboured the next SCO government meeting in July 2005, where an anti-terrorism plan was adopted among the seven agreements (RFE/RL Newsline 7 July 2005). The observer states Iran, Pakistan and India asked for the timetable for US withdrawal from Afghanistan, soothed by Putin (Kimmage 2005c). There were also some suggestions of creating larger army forces within the SCO, like those between Russia and Belarus (RFE/RL Newsline 12 October 2005). In October the same year, some commentators saw in SCO an anti-NATO organization, while Putin called the SCO an ‘influential factor’ in world politics. Putin also suggested that the SCO ‘had begun expanding its activities far beyond the scope of its initially declared mission. . . . Economics is becoming an increasingly important part of our organization’s work’ (Putin introductory remarks 26 October 2005; RFE/RL Newsline 27 October 2005; Isachenkov 2005). At the SCO government summit in November, the organization had nevertheless acquired the reputation of being the ‘NATO of the east’. Russia’s influence in the Central Asian region has increased with membership in SCO, and the fact that China is another major power of the organization does not contradict that. In effect, the joint membership of Russia and China empowers both in their respective relations with the United States (Bendersky 2005). The issue of the status was important, however, and in April 2006 Sergey Ivanov emphatically declared that the SCO ‘is not a military alliance’ but that it had a focus on anti-terrorism activities. Anti-terrorism exercises were held in Uzbekistan in March, and there were plans for anti-terrorism exercises also in 2007 (Hutzler 2006). There seemed to be a rift between Russia and China as to the future focus of the organization in the economic sphere, quite apart form differences as to the identification of the enemy threat (Blank 2006a; Cohen 2006).39 There were also some other organizations of interest in Central Asia. In the immediate aftermath of 11 September, there was a general drive to create new security-oriented organizations in Central Asia. The Kazakh President Nazarbaev was the main figure behind creating also the 16-member Conference on Cooperation and Confidence-Building Measures in Asia (CCCBMA), thought of as another Asian equivalent to the OSCE.40 The inauguration summit was postponed from November 2001 until June 2002 when confidence-building measures were adopted. In July 2003, the members of the CCCBMA drafted a catalogue of rules to ensure security and resolve conflicts, and also adopted some economic and tourism measures. In February 2002, the Central Asian Cooperation Organization – CACO – was created by transforming the Central Asian Economic Community – CAEC –

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in 1994 by Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan (Afghanistan was invited to join the CACO somewhat later). In July 2003, the presidents of the four CACO member states signed several documents on the use of water and energy resources and to ensure food supplies. In June 2004, Russia joined the CACO, when the former member states of CACO decided to set up a single Central Asian market, and Putin commented: ‘[a]s part of this organization, we hope, first of all, to develop our practical capabilities in fighting such threats as terrorism and regional extremism – I mean religious extremism in our region – in fighting illegal drug trafficking and other challenges’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 October 2004; Putin press statement 18 October 2004). The CACO member states agreed to draw up a list of terrorist and religious-extremist organizations banned within the organization’s borders. The CACO merged with the EEC in October 2005 due to the similarity of their goals (Bigg 2005).

2.5 CIS and other regional organizations – summary and conclusions While there seemed to be a certain degree of realism also in Yeltsin’s handling of Russian CIS relations in that Russian national interests were promoted within the organization (Adomeit 1998: 46), there were also several inconsistencies, some of which stemmed from ‘old habits’ from the Soviet era of ‘agreeing to agree before agreeing on matters of substance’, resulting in a multitude of formal agreements with no ratification or implementation processes. The CIS as such, while heralded as an integration vehicle of sorts, was in fact not working as one. Part of the problem was that Russia had not got its priorities quite right. In Putin’s reign, there seems to be a hierarchy of organizational arrangements within the CIS, starting with the broadest base – the CIS – the overarching organization, followed in the economic sphere by the EEC, the SES of the ‘Big Four’, bilateral relations, and in the security sphere by the CSTO/SCO, and bilateral relations. Putin has regarded the CIS as a fairly uninteresting organization known for its many proclamations and for its very few implemented projects. According to Sakwa, the Russian support for the CIS as an organization is an offspring of the fact that the CIS legitimizes Russian military presence in several CIS countries, and makes possible the Russian (rather than CIS) peacekeeping forces in South Ossetia and Transdniester (Sakwa 2002: 386). According to Bugajski, unlike the European Union (where member states surrender some sovereignty), Russia wants ‘asymmetric sovereignty’ in the CIS where the other CIS members give away some of their independence to Russia (Bugajski 2004: 55). Under Putin, the CIS has promoted the idea of ‘integration at different speed’ and also of differentiating between bilateral and CIS relations (Bugajksi 2004: 58). While much of the criticism levelled at the CIS stems from the Yeltsin reign, Putin’s CIS policies have not been altogether clear or consistent either. They have been somewhat detached, probably due to his aversion for multilateral fora. It is nevertheless true that Putin has been trying to lift the organization to a de facto integration vehicle (Bugajski 2004: 56). There have

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been two basic strategies in his endeavour, one security-oriented and one economy-oriented. With respect to security-oriented changes, 11 September changed Russia’s evaluation of the CIS as a security vehicle. First of all, Putin gave the CIS a new focus in reinvigorating its anti-terrorism functions. Although immediately after 11 September, CIS cohesion was indeed shaken by the US-led international antiterrorist coalition for all that it promised in terms of moral and economic support, the CIS did in effect assume a much higher profile for Russia after 11 September. The CIS Collective Security Treaty countries did develop into an integrative organization as a result: old conflicts were set aside, Russian troops in Central Asia were invited to stay, Russian awareness of the importance of the region increased. The joint Russia–US anti-terrorism efforts increased CST cooperation in Central Asia and the United States’ involvement in Central Asia thus considerably heightened Russia’s own profile in the region and in effect functioned as a catalyst to Russia to get its security interests in the region on track after a decade of neglect. At least from September 2004, the CIS was clearly oriented to security issues and ‘anti-terrorism’ (Torbakov 2004h). With respect to economic integration, the record is more indecisive than in the field of security. In the Yeltsin years, the CIS simply did not work well as an economic integration tool. Russia’s bilateral relations with individual CIS member states under Putin suggest a much more successful story than relations within the CIS itself. The attempt at a multilateral approach for economic integration has been largely unsuccessful, and while it might be too early to make definite judgements on the end result, the CIS structures in more than one sense seem to be too old-fashioned for the ‘liberal empire’ that Putin is trying to create within the CIS space since 2003 (with ‘banks rather than tanks’ or ‘banks as well as tanks’, banks where possible and ‘tanks’ where needed). As indicated above, there has been a hierarchical structure in Russia’s approach to economic integration, with an increasing level of Russian efforts the further down the hierarchical ladder one looks. At the highest (most multilateral level – all CIS countries), Russia has not been as active as it has on an intermediate level – the EEC and CSTO – where activities have been more targeted, and at the second lowest level – the Big Four with the SES, the intensity of operations have been the highest and economic attempts to control the resources of the other countries have been the most obvious. At the bilateral level, relations with the CIS countries have been the most pronounced and intense, a fact to which we will turn in all later chapters. Russia has thus continued to strengthen bilateral relations with the CIS countries despite the multilateralism of the CSTO and SES. There are good reasons for using bilateral relations as a back-up strategy should the multilateral approach fail, but a purely strategic reason is the more likely. In any bilateral relationship with CIS countries, Russia has the upper hand; it is simply easier for Russia to dominate in bilateral than in multilateral relations, because in the latter, Russia faces the possibility of unified resistance. Putin’s policy vis-à-vis the CIS has, in Sakwa’s words, been ‘ruthlessly realistic’ – Putin realized that the CIS was not going to be a vehicle for

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integration (Sakwa 2004: 230). Putin has instead developed bilateral links with the CIS countries and tried to reinvigorate the CST and the EEC, which is another way of saying that Putin has made distinctions between the ‘less and more willing’ (Sakwa 2004: 231–232). The future of the CIS is still questionable, as it has been ever since its creation and all through the 1990s (Shaw 1998). There is something in the words of the Moldovan President Voronin’s analysis of the CIS ‘as a trunk without a handle, which is too heavy to carry but [which] one does not wish to throw away’ (RFE/RL Newsline 7 October 2002), or in Sakwa’s characteristic of the CIS as ‘an unloved child’ (Sakwa 2002: 386). The CIS remains an amorphous organization with very little clout on the world political and economic scenes. To the extent it has been important, it has rather been as a meeting place to develop ideas with those more willing to discuss real integration; one might question whether the EEC or SES would ever have been possible without a (failing) CIS. Russia’s goal with the CIS is to establish a tighter federation, ‘highly dependent’ on Russia but ‘without necessarily expanding Russian territory’, with ‘an economic union patterned on the EU’ – the EEC (Bugajski 2004: 55).

Part II

Russia and the European security sub-complex Relations with Belarus, Ukraine and Moldova

Introduction The European sub-complex consisting of the two Slavic states Ukraine and Belarus and the small non-Slavic state Moldova has a special status among the three sub-complexes of the larger Russia-led regional security complex. The importance and centrality of this sub-complex to Russia is evident in almost any dimension of social activity, and all through history. It remains as important to Putin, but at the same time the European sub-complex has been the subject of the US and NATO hunt for prime spoils after the fall of the Soviet empire. The history of the Yeltsin years is well known and will be dealt with in an introductory summary to each chapter. In general terms, in the early euphoric Western-oriented Kozyrev foreign policy period, the basic problem was to retrieve to Russia nuclear weapons stationed in the region, aided in this endeavour by the United States. That process ended in the mid-1990s. When Russian foreign policy towards the West turned more assertive in the mid-1990s, this sub-complex too revealed its ‘hard security’ dimension. The basic reason for this, in turn, was the fact that the East European and Baltic states clearly aimed to put as much political, military and economic distance as possible to Russia and to trust their security and economic concerns with the West European structures. When Russia basically ‘lost’ the Baltic states, the next geographical ‘buffer’ to Europe and NATO became all the more important, i.e. Belarus, Ukraine and Moldova. By the end of the Yeltsin era, Russia’s neglect of the problems in this region was slowly remedied, and Russia’s main strategic problems (nuclear weapons and the Black Sea fleet) were basically solved by the time Putin came to power. On the other hand, Ukraine, Russia’s most important neighbour by far, opted for closer relations with NATO and the EU, which caused another round of negative security spiralling. Belarus was another story, the safest and most faithful ally of Yeltsin’s Russia, seen first and foremost in the extensive military cooperation and the political unification process of the two countries. Belarus

had its own security problem worsened by the westward drift of Poland and the Baltic states. The dilemma for Belarus was to create a Belarusian nation at the same time as it was trying to remedy these new threats from the West by allying with Russia. Russia, in turn, hesitated to become too involved in the plans for a union with Belarus since the Russian elites did not see a win–win situation, and Putin would look at Belarus with very different eyes than Yeltsin. Moldova, finally, has been yet an altogether different story. Torn by secessionist forces, mainly in Transdniester, and early Romanian claims on its territory and with no evident international ally, it was forced to accept the continuous Russian military presence in Transdniester and economic dependence on Russia. There was no comfort to be sought in Ukraine or in Europe either; Moldova was left on its own and basically forced to accept whatever Russia did in the region.1

3

Russia and Ukraine

3.1 Introduction and general developments Ukraine is a large country, second in Europe only to Russia (and larger than France), and with its 48 million citizens it is a potential great power. Ukraine is located to the west of Russia, with Belarus in the north, Poland, Slovakia, Hungary and Moldova in the west and with the Black Sea in the south. The history of Ukraine is closely knit to that of Russia, and in some respects older as well: Kiev Rus was created in the ninth century and prospered for some time as trade routes between the north and south and between west and east. The Mongols invaded in the mid-thirteenth century and ruled for several centuries. Western Ukraine remained free for some time but came under Polish rule in the fourteenth century and Polish society and culture dominated. This rule was fought by Ukrainian free peasants – the Cossacks – who allied themselves with Moscow. In the seventeenth century, Ukraine was split up between Poland and Russia. When Poland was divided in the eighteenth century, Russia expanded to the west. It would take until the late eighteenth century before Russia defeated the Crimean khanate in the south. With the industrialization of eastern Ukraine and a large inflow of Russians in the nineteenth century, nationalist tensions developed. In the first decade of the Soviet era, Ukraine was flourishing in its quasi-independent status; Ukraine was the second most important Soviet Republic. It was also the one republic suffering the most for its nationalist expressions when Stalinist repression also hit Ukraine in the 1930s. Since 1991, Russian relations with Ukraine have been the most important bilateral CIS relationship to Russia by far. Apart from history and the identity link of Russia to Ukraine, the reason is the obvious interdependencies of Russia and Ukraine in the peaceful dissolution of the USSR. Although Ukraine decided the faith of the USSR by claiming independence in the fall of 1991, it also was the major co-founder of the CIS (the charter of which it never signed though). Ukraine has sought independence from Russia quite actively since 1991, and nationalist issues have been strong. In Ukraine, ‘imperialist revanschist Russia’ was seen as the main threat (Moshes 1998: 129). Domestic political developments have been filled with conflicts and reshuffles, basically as a result of the

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division of power between the president, parliament and prime minister, representing different economic interests. The adoption of a Ukrainian constitution in 1996 somewhat eased the tensions. Ukraine’s first President, Leonid Kravchuk, was openly West-oriented, and his follower from 1994, President Leonid Kuchma, continued that foreign policy orientation. Ukraine was the first among the CIS countries to set up independent armed forces (Moshes 1998: 130). Ukraine signed up for future NATO membership quite early and was the first CIS country to sign a Partnership for Peace (PfP) agreement in 1994.1 Ukraine resisted CIS integration and was the cofounder of its rival organization GUAM in 1997. Ukraine also signed up for a future EU membership and was the first CIS country to sign a Partnership Agreement with the EU in 1994. In 1999, a EU Common Strategy for Ukraine was adopted, and in 2004 Ukraine was included in the European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP). There are several geo-political and geo-economic reasons for the importance of Ukraine to Russia. One has had to do with territory. As one of the many border anomalies of the Soviet era, Crimea was transferred from the Russian republic to the Ukrainian republic in 1954, which caused a conflict to surface in 1991. The considerable tension with respect to Crimean independence in the early years was largely defused only in 1996 when Crime was allowed its own constitution. The tension in Crimea is rooted in the fact that some two-thirds of the population claim adherence to Russia, and in the fact that the history of Russia linked Crimea to the very ‘Russian idea’. Another reason for the importance of Ukraine to Russia was the issue of how to divide the defence capacities left over from the Soviet era, the most important of which were the nuclear weapons stationed on Ukrainian territory. The issue was solved after several years of negotiations involving also the United States; the last nuclear warheads left Ukraine in 1996. The issue of how to divide up the Black Sea Navy between Russia and Ukraine and what to do with the naval base in Sevastopol in Crimea was a more difficult one that would pester the relationship for many years. The tensions were partly lifted when Russia officially recognized Crimea as part of Ukraine in 1997, in exchange for principal Russian naval basing rights in Sevastopol finally agreed upon in 1999 (see Moshes 1998).2 The ‘Western orientation’ of Ukraine was the most worrying geo-political aspect of all, though. Yeltsin’s own ‘bullish’ style and his constant refusal to delink the Black Sea Fleet issue from the issue of the status of Crimea and from signing a Treaty of Friendship and Cooperation caused a tense stalemate that lasted for years. There were fairly few summits, government meetings and foreign policy declarations in the second half of the 1990s. The signing of the Friendship Treaty and the final resolution of the Black Sea Fleet issue in spring 1999 did not yield the momentum expected for solving other long-delayed conflict issues (such as the delimitation of common borders, gas, oil, electricity and customs issues), since the new NATO strategic doctrine and the Kosovo war in spring 1999 refuelled tension in the Russian–Ukrainian relationship.

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Despite the fact that Ukraine has basically had the same type of problems as the Russian economy, economic dependence has largely been unidirectional in the relationship. In the privatization scramble in Ukraine, Russian capital has been active only very late, since 1999. Most importantly, Ukraine has been dependent for its energy on Russia, while Russia has been dependent on energy transit routes to Europe; payments have been uneven, debts have been accumulating, outright thefts have been common. This was the situation Putin inherited in spring 2000. Bilateral relations were not yet fully normalized, but the most important problem areas had been defused. However, while Putin chose to stick to much of Yeltsin’s general foreign policy orientations (as expressed in the June 2000 Foreign Policy Concept) for a little more than a year (opposition to NATO enlargement and support of the Primakov ‘multipolarity’ doctrine), he chose not to stick to the Concept in his policies towards Ukraine. Quite the contrary, from the very beginning of his presidency, Putin persistently opposed the Yeltsin heritage and turned bilateral policies around 180 degrees. The development of the new general Russian–Ukrainian relationship in the first years can be described in terms of seemingly good personal relations between the two presidents, and was, in a nutshell, a success story. Two weeks after being elected President, Putin met with the Ukrainian President Leonid Kuchma to strengthen their strategic partnership. At the next meeting between the two (in June 2000), Kuchma suggested that Putin ‘[means] a really new Russia and a new policy’, one that is ‘more pragmatic, understandable, and predictable’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 June 2000). In less than a year, by early 2001, the two countries had definitely broken the decade-long negative dynamics in their relations. In this first year as president, Putin and Kuchma met no less than eight times, and trade increased 20 per cent. At a summit in February 2001, Putin acknowledged that he and Kuchma ‘changed the quality of relations. Frankly speaking’, he continued, ‘I think this was one of the main achievements of Russian diplomacy last year’ (RFE/RL Newsline 8 February 2001; Romanova 2001). Apart from the high-level meetings, defence cooperation and joint arms production also boomed, and in January 2001 a cooperation plan for 52 joint projects was signed, foreseeing among other things a joint command post in Sevastopol and a joint rescue detachment of the divided Black Sea Fleet. Several joint arms production deals were also concluded and agreements on joint arms sales. The real boost in the relationship came in May 2001 with the appointment of former Russian Prime Minister Viktor Chernomyrdin as Ambassador to Ukraine. Putin commented on the appointment that ‘the time has come to approach seriously the development of relations with one of our basic partners – Ukraine, and for this we must create the necessary preconditions, including in personnel’ (RFE/RL Newsline 11 May 2001). With his status and clout, Chernomyrdin soon established himself as the ‘Russian Governor in Ukraine’. With this move, Putin elevated Ukraine to the highest ranking target of the Russian Foreign Ministry.

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September 11 and the US–Russian cooperation that followed in the ‘war against terrorism’ had positive effects on the Russian–Ukrainian relationship since the two Slavic countries came out on the same side. By the end of 2001, Putin proclaimed 2002 the ‘Year of Ukraine in the Russian Federation’, and in the Ukrainian parliamentary elections in spring 2002, Russian interference was obvious. Chernomyrdin confessed that Russia did support parties and election blocs that wanted to deepen relations with Russia, while concerned with those that did not (RFE/RL Newsline 21 March 2002). As a result of the May 2002 Russia–NATO accord, there was no conflict any longer between Russia and Ukraine on NATO enlargement either. When Putin met with Kuchma after the Bush–Putin summit in May, he noticed that ‘the quality of relations . . . has recently enhanced’ and also assured that ‘one would not like to change anything’ in these relations. Kuchma was even more poetic, declaring that ‘[t]here are no clouds over us, the air is clean and transparent, and the temperature is appropriate – neither too warm nor too cold, just normal’ (RFE/RL Newsline 20 May 2002).3 The good atmosphere remained a common feature in the Kuchma reign. At a December 2002 summit, Kuchma said that he could ‘not see the future of my country without the warmest possible relations with Russia’, and proclaimed 2003 ‘the Year of Russia in Ukraine’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 December 2002). In May 2003, Igor Ivanov concluded that relations between Russia and Ukraine ‘have matured to such an extent that these two countries can set themselves more ambitious and long-term objectives’ (RFE/RL Newsline 20 May 2003). In June, Ukraine was named Russia’s ‘strategic partner’, a euphemism for the closest of friends (RFE/RL Newsline 1 July 2003). Despite this, the confrontation in the fall of 2003 over the Tuzla islet showed the shaky groundwork of the relationship. When the ‘Kuchma-gate’ scandal destroyed Ukraine’s relations with the USA in 2004, Kuchma turned to Russia for comfort, even offering for a time a 180 degree turn in security relations away from NATO and into the familiar Russian ‘bear hug’ (Kuzio 2004). It was too late for a change in security orientation, however. The upcoming presidential election in Ukraine with its dramatic development took over the agenda, and the ‘orange revolution’ showed the dangers involved in a personalized inter-state relationship. Putin placed his bet on Kuchma’s crown prince Yanukovich against the ‘Western’ candidate Viktor Yushchenko, which did not bode well for what had been achieved under Kuchma. After the ‘orange revolution’, there were far-fetched fears both in Russia and in the West that the sprawl over the Ukrainian elections would inflict on Russian–Ukrainian relations, but in early 2005 the tone was conciliatory on both sides. Putin hoped that the ‘electoral rhetoric in Ukraine will be replaced by a pragmatic attitude’ and suggested that Ukraine was an irreplaceable partner to Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 10 January 2005). The new Yushchenko government promised that Russia’s strategic interests would not suffer under the new regime (RFE/RL Newsline 12 January 2005). Yushchenko’s first trip abroad went to Moscow, in January, and after meeting with Putin, he stated that Russia was

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Ukraine’s ‘eternal strategic partner’, that bilateral relations would become ‘better, easy, and transparent’ (RFE/RL Newsline 24 January 2005; Putin 24 January 2005). Putin, in turn, confessed that his attitude towards Yushchenko in the fall of 2004 had been influenced by his relations to the former Ukrainian leadership (RFE/RL Newsline 25 January 2005). In introducing his new foreign minister in February (Boris Tarasyuk – generally seen as pro-Western and antiRussian), Yushchenko repeated that Russia was Ukraine’s ‘eternal strategic partner’ and stressed that Ukraine’s strife for the European Union was impossible until some unresolved issues with Russia had been settled (RFE/RL Newsline 8 February 2005). After his meeting with President Bush somewhat later, Yushchenko again reaffirmed that ‘Russia is our strategic partner’ (RFE/RL Newsline 23 February 2005), and in the European Parliament he noted that Ukraine would not ‘go European’ alone, but wanted Russia to be part of the drive for Europe (RFE/RL Newsline 24 February 2005). In March, Putin made a formal state visit to Ukraine, the first after the ‘orange revolution’, and the meeting with Yushchenko was successful. Putin afterwards said that ‘[i]n my original statement, I had the phrase that we have different views on some issues, but now I retract it. . . . We have different approaches, but the same understanding of the issues’ (RFE/RL Newsline 21 March 2005). Conflicts were to develop somewhat later, though: in the summer, the border issue, the SES (Single Economic Space) issue and the gas pricing issue further deteriorated the relationship. In October, Lavrov warned that Russia ‘cannot fence itself off from Ukraine as it is our nearest neighbour, old partner, and close relative’, that Ukraine would have to take into account the price of distancing itself from Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 12 October 2005). The first year after the ‘orange revolution’ ended with the gas pricing debacle which explained the meaning of Lavrov’s words better than anything else. When a deal then was made on a gas price for Ukraine, it caused a domestic storm of criticism in Ukraine which eventually brought down the government, causing a blow to what was left of the enthusiasm of the ‘orange revolution’. In spring 2006, there was also a smaller row over issues related to the Russian Black Sea naval base in Crimea, rented until 2017. Ukraine wanted to double the rent.4 This was followed by a Crimean demand for a referendum on the status of Russian as a ‘second language’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 February 2006). There was also a ‘meat war’ in spring 2006 when first, Russian meat imports from Ukraine were banned, and then retaliated by a Ukrainian import ban on Russian meat. In the summer, the nagging continued when some visiting US naval vessels in Crimea also caused a stir.5 The election of Yanukovich as the new Ukrainian Prime Minister looked promising for a re-orientation and Yanukovich vowed to prioritize relations with Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 16 August 2006). A December summit with Putin, the first since spring 2005, took place in December 2006 and Yushchenko pledged that the two countries were united by ‘the common goal of building a united Europe without dividing lines’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 December 2006). These are the general developments in the relationship. Below, the most

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important problem areas will be discussed one by one: the politico-military NATO enlargement and the border issues, and the politico-economic issues of economic cooperation and energy politics, to conclude with the politico-cultural issues emerging out of the ‘orange revolution’.

3.2 The NATO enlargement issue in Ukraine The Russia–Ukrainian road was not altogether smooth even in the early Kuchma period. First, the fact that Ukraine openly flirted with the idea of NATO membership did not pass easily in Russia. Officially, Russia was ‘categorically against NATO’s expansion to the East’, while the official Ukrainian view held that it was ‘the sovereign right of each state to choose its own path’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 January 2001). Since bilateral relations had improved by early 2001, this conflict was no longer at the forefront of the relationship. By the summer of 2001, the official Russian view was that Russia’s interest was not harmed by Ukraine’s good relations with NATO.6 The fundamental change in Russian foreign policy caused by 11 September, i.e. the band-wagonning with the USA in its ‘war against terrorism’ and support of the Afghanistan operation, reinforced Putin’s determination to continue the re-integration of the neighbouring countries. This was now alleviated since both Russia and Ukraine increasingly found themselves ‘on the same side’ with respect to the United States and even on NATO expansion, most clearly seen in Kuchma’s view on the US–Russian ‘anti-terrorism front’: What am I to think, since the strategic partner of Ukraine is Russia, whose President Vladimir Putin has stated that he is considering the possibility of joining NATO? I think that, today, there is a deep sense in these words of Putin – there are no longer two camps that were in confrontation with each other. (RFE/RL Newsline 7 November 2001) Furthermore, after the establishment of the joint NATO–Russia Council in May 2002, the former cleavage between Russia and Ukraine with respect to the NATO enlargement issue by implication became less dramatic. The Joint NATO–Russia Council was officially hailed by Kuchma, and in the immediate aftermath of the May summit, there was even an element of competition between Russia and Ukraine in improving their relations with NATO. There was a difference, though: while Russia was ahead in the number of representatives in Brussels, Ukraine was ahead in terms of actual military cooperation with NATO (Kalashnikova 2002). At the NATO enlargement summit in November 2002, the NATO–Ukraine commission adopted a Ukraine–NATO Action Plan. Nevertheless, the fundamental Russian problem with Ukraine’s continued and outspoken desire to join NATO remained in the relationship as a sour piece of meat. At the same time, the ‘Russia first’ policy pursued by the United States, NATO and the EU after 11 September rendered Ukraine a back seat in this

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competition for friendship with NATO. Kuchma himself turned out to be a problem, too, for the Ukrainian integration with the West. The Ukraine–NATO Action Plan that entered into force in January 2003 basically left it to Ukraine to be ‘worthy’ of NATO membership. The plan talked of Ukraine’s ‘full integration into Euro-Atlantic security structures’ (Ukraine NATO Action Plan 2002). The Iraq war helped Kuchma to improve his relations with the USA that had deteriorated after ‘Kuchma-gate’. Later in 2003, Ukraine tried to bring its military structure more in line with NATO standards, and when Ukraine’s military reforms were praised by NATO defence ministers in December 2003, Russia’s listening ears were wide open. Although Russia had no formal objections to these Ukrainian steps, the Russian Black Sea Fleet naval base in Sevastopol has made NATO membership more questionable in the short term because of the 20-year lease signed with Ukraine in 1997. The NATO Membership Action Plan did not foresee a speedy Ukrainian membership either, and by summer 2004 the NATO membership issue had already become directly tied to democratic values, and Kuchma’s attempt to turn Ukraine’s defence policy 180 degrees around in late 2004 as a reaction – with a new Ukrainian defence doctrine pointing to defence cooperation with Russia instead of NATO – is now but a footnote in history (Nezavizimaia Gazeta 28 July 2004). Nevertheless, the actual NATO enlargement and the clarification of Ukraine’s (low) status by the end of the Kuchma era did help Putin to tie Ukraine closer to Russia. The real point, however, is rather that Putin did not allow the NATO membership issue to poison the relationship. This kind of behaviour stands in sharp contrast to the behaviour of much of the Russian security establishment as well as to the recommendations of the Foreign Policy Concept of the Russian Federation: Putin simply did not play the ‘geo-political game’. The ‘orange revolution’ again changed Ukraine’s foreign policy direction when Yushchenko made it abundantly clear that Ukraine did make a serious bid for NATO membership. The initial Russian position was double-edged. On the one hand, as Lavrov put it in early January 2005, Russia respected ‘the right of each state . . . to choose its own partners’, but on the other, they could not rely on privileged economic relations with Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 4 January 2005). In February, it was evident that Ukraine would not submit its application for NATO membership, although relations with NATO were said to have been elevated to a ‘qualitatively new level’ (RFE/RL Newsline 18 February 2005). In April, Yushchenko ordered the military doctrine to be prepared for NATO membership. Later in the fall of 2005, Yushchenko reaffirmed the NATO membership plans for Ukraine. By now, it was evident there were serious apprehensions in Ukraine that public opinion would be against membership. In spring 2006, a referendum on NATO and EU membership was proposed by the opposition and some 4.5 million signatures were collected to that effect (RFE/RL Newsline 13 March 2006), while the government assured that the NATO application was valid (RFE/RL Newsline 2 May 2006). In May 2006, the Russian Head of General Staff told Ukraine and Georgia that ‘You may join

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[NATO] but do not create tension on our borders’ since Russia cared about the ‘situation in adjoining areas’ (RFE/RL Newsline 15 May 2006). In summer, Putin criticized a further NATO expansion (RFE/RL Newsline 5 June 2006), and Lavrov threatened that NATO membership contradicted the Treaty of Friendship, Cooperation and Partnership signed in 1997 (RFE/RL Newsline 7 June 2006). The Russian opposition to a further NATO expansion seemed to influence also the United States and a planned visit by the US president to Ukraine was cancelled as was NATO participation in naval exercises. In September, the domestic Ukrainian division over the NATO issue was confirmed when Yanukovich – now Prime Minister – during a visit to NATO in Brussels said that Ukrainian membership plans would be put on hold, a statement that was promptly condemned by President Yushchenko (RFE/RL Newsline 15 September 2006 and RFE/RL Newsline 18 September 2006). Late in 2006, a ‘referendum’ was held in Crimea against NATO membership, while a Ukrainian referendum on membership would take place only after an Action Plan with NATO had been signed.

3.3 The Russia–Ukraine border issue Another politically stale potato that has been on the Russian–Ukrainian agenda since 1992 is the question of border delimitation. The delimitation of the Ukrainian–Russian 2,000 kilometre land frontier seemed to involve few problems, and the delimitation was (reportedly) ‘practically’ concluded by the end of 2000 (RFE/RL Newsline 1 November 2000), or ‘at 95 per cent’ concluded by July 2001 (RFE/RL Newsline 18 July 2001), and ‘totally’ concluded by November 2001 (RFE/RL Newsline 16 November 2001). Only in January 2003 did Kuchma and Putin finally sign a border delimitation treaty after four years of negotiations. The issue of actual border demarcation was another matter; here the generally accepted view was not to demarcate the border at all, largely for practical reasons.7 The extent to which borders remained sensitive in the relationship became evident in October 2003, when Ukrainian sabre-rattling over the Tuzla islet in the Kerch Strait on the entrance to the Sea of Azovsk developed into a major crisis with Russia. Russian regional authorities had issued a plan to build a dam connecting Russia and the Tuzla islet in order to protect the Russian shore. The Ukrainian Foreign Ministry at an early stage warned Russia that such a dam might violate Ukraine’s state border and territorial integrity. The real crisis took off in mid-October when the Ukrainian parliament warned that all measures would be taken to ‘protect the sovereignty of the [Ukrainian] state on its territory’ should the dam construction continue. Several dozen Ukrainian border guards, bulldozers and excavators were sent to the Tuzla islet to mark a division line in the Kerch Strait with buoys. Kuchma called the Russian construction of the dam an ‘unfriendly’ action (RFE/RL Newsline 20 October 2003). In a Ukrainian diplomatic note, Russia was warned that it would be held fully accountable for any potential border conflict.

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As the dam builders approached the Tuzla islet and the Ukrainian parliament held a hearing on how to meet the threat was discussed, Putin and Kuchma were eager not to let the issue get entirely out of hand. While they agreed over the phone that their Prime Ministers should meet immediately, the newspaper headlines talked of war (see Nezavisimaia Gazeta 22 October 2003). Igor Ivanov reassured Ukraine that the dam project was dictated by economic and ecological considerations and was not at all connected to the border talks on the Sea of Azovsk (Nezavisimaia Gazeta 23 October 2003). As is often the case, conflicts tend to live a life of their own, and crisis-related events developed rapidly. Kuchma cancelled a planned Latin American tour and instead visited the Tuzla islet. A couple of days later, 17 Ukrainian jet fighters held an exercise, involving firing missiles into the water not far from Tuzla, and the Ukrainian parliament passed a resolution calling for ‘the removal of the threat to Ukraine’s territorial integrity’ and also recommended that the UN General Assembly discuss the dispute at its current session (RFE/RL Newsline 23 October 2003). The leading Ukrainian opposition politician Victor Yushchenko said that we ‘have never discussed so actively the possibility of an armed conflict even when we were dividing the Black Sea Fleet’ (RFE/RL Newsline 24 October 2003). When the two premiers, Kasyanov and Yanukovich, met to discuss the dispute, it was agreed that Russia should suspend the construction of the dam and that the Ukrainian side should withdraw its border guards from the island. This watered the fire, but Russian nationalists had by now picked up steam, and Kuchma pitied Putin’s situation of being ‘forced to take into account neo-colonial sentiments in Russian society, in the Russian ruling class, and among the Russian generals’ (RFE/RL Newsline 29 October 2003; Schreck 2003). On 30 October, the Russian and Ukrainian foreign ministers agreed that the Tuzla issue should be resolved by working groups together with other issues related to the Sea of Azovsk and the Kerch Strait. In December, the Ukrainian and Russian presidents finally signed an agreement on the use of waters of the Kerch Strait and the Sea of Azovsk. The agreement provided for the delimitation of the state border on the bottom and the surface of the sea (Diplomatichesky Vestnik no. 1, 2004: 66ff.; Putin 24 December 2003). The border agreement on the Kerch Straits and the Sea of Azovsk marked the end of the long and difficult border delimitation negotiations. Putin referred to the land border as one that should ‘unite our citizens’ (Putin 23 April 2004). The typical Ukrainian argument is that the border issue has been used by Russia to slow down Ukraine’s integration into Europe and NATO (Vickery 2003; RFE/RL Poland, Belarus and Ukraine Report 29 October 2003; RFE/RL Poland, Belarus and Ukraine Report 20 January 2004; Felgenhauer 2003). Putin, on the other hand, was eager to solve the issue of delimitation before Kuchma was to be replaced in November 2004. The Tuzla issue indicates that Putin was not prepared to sacrifice the newly won good Russian–Ukrainian relationship, especially not for geo-politically insignificant localities. It is evident that Putin’s and Kuchma’s personal relationship in the end saved the situation from getting entirely out of hand. In May 2005, there was a postlude to the

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Tuzla conflict when Yushchenko proposed to settle the remaining border issues and finally to settle the Kerch Strait situation.

3.4 Trade and economic cooperation While political interests dominated Russian–Ukrainian economic relations in the 1990s and often resulted in conflicts, Putin broke this vicious circle in his first term. The importance of this in itself to Russia is difficult not to appreciate. On the one hand, Russian–Ukrainian economic relations have probably saved Ukraine from recession, but on the other hand, the Ukrainian dependency on Russia has become manifestly high: since 2000, Russian investments in Ukraine have concentrated on strategic branches like energy, aluminium, defence, telecom and banking. Economic cooperation boomed after the re-orientation of Putin’s foreign policy in 2000 and the two economies complemented each other (according to Putin) (Putin 25 July 2001), some 60 per cent of Ukrainian companies worked together with Russian companies (Putin 23 August 2001). After a summit in November 2001, Putin and Kuchma signed a treaty on a ‘free economic zone’, and a few weeks later the two presidents met at a forum of some 600 Ukrainian and Russian business executives in Kharkiv (hailed as a breakthrough in trade relations) (Putin speech in Kharkov 14 December 2001). It was announced that Russia and Ukraine should jointly strive to become members of the World Trade Organization. During summer 2002, some problems related to trade tariffs and barriers slowed down trade development (some talked of a ‘trade war’) and became the topic of another summit in August the same year.8 By 2002, almost 50 per cent of Ukrainian industry was owned by Russian capital and the business elites of the two countries are closely connected. This situation nourishes Ukrainian arguments about Russian ‘economic imperialism’; during Ukraine’s privatization process, the Ukrainian national security was supposedly threatened by Russian acquisitions of ‘oil refineries, raw-aluminium production, communications, and many other strategic enterprises’ (RFE/RL Newsline 28 February 2003). In January 2004, Putin emphasized economic relations as ‘the main focus’ in the relationship (Putin 23 January 2004). Obviously, the issue of a Single Economic Space ties Ukraine closer to Russia and is seen as an alternative to EU association. Ukraine had openly expressed its intentions of joining the EU as a high-priority goal already in 1998 (after Kuchma had paved the way in 1995 and 1996). In 1999, Kuchma decreed integration into the EU by 2007, the first steps of which would be to join the WTO and to be followed by a free-trade agreement with the EU as an associated member. The EU remained cool, however. In 2002, the refusal to grant Ukraine the status of a market economy (which Russia had been granted a couple of months earlier), crushed Ukrainian hopes. At the EU–Ukraine summit in October 2003, Kuchma accused the EU of a lack of interest in Ukraine and of forcing Ukrainian integration within the CIS (Tymchuk 2003), and argued that the increased Russian influence in the CIS could at least partly be blamed on the EU.

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Immediately after the victory in the presidential elections, in late 2004, Yushchenko made it clear that Ukraine would join the European Union and that it needed to resolve all outstanding issues with Russia and to remove all trade barriers, but also that there was one condition: ‘Putin must not block our way into the European Union’ (RFE/RL Newsline 4 January 2005).9 It soon became evident that the EU Action Plan did not mention any membership, although Yushchenko claimed that there was a plan to start negotiations in 2007 on membership. Ukraine’s entry into the Union was his primary goal: ‘Ukraine is ready to walk the distance to meet the Copenhagen criteria for EU membership’ (RFE/RL Newsline 24 February 2005). The new Ukrainian President Yushchenko’s interest in the SES was, correspondingly, lukewarm. The SES was of interest to Ukraine only to the extent that it did not dim the prospects for a Ukrainian EU membership which was the main objective under Yushchenko’s presidency, but it was also evident that Ukraine had a long way to go before it could become a member. To Ukraine, the SES meant much less than EU membership, but there is an iron dynamic in economic dependencies too that Yushchenko had to face: he was up against influential forces. Russia has three major tools: energy, trade and credits (Bugajski 2004: 85, 88). In November 2005, the EU granted Ukraine free market status. By this time, Russia had already begun to draw serious attention to the price that Ukraine would have to pay. In November, Fradkov said that Ukraine should be careful to take Russia’s interest into view, not to infringe on Russia’s national interest, in the process of joining the EU (RFE/RL Newsline 29 November 2005). It was obvious that Ukraine had become ‘the major tug of war’ (Bugajski 2004: 80). The economic instrument was to become the main tool of Russian foreign policy towards Ukraine in 2005. First, when the Yushchenko government decided to re-privatize some economic entities in Ukraine, the appetite of some Russian financial groups was whetted. The evident instrumental character was to be seen in the pricing sector, first of Russian petrol in April, but nowhere was the price instrument in foreign policy as evident as in the case of Russian gas exports to Ukraine, presently to be dealt with.

3.5 Energy issues Ukraine’s energy dependence on Russia and the Russian transit dependency on Ukraine have been constant features of Russian–Ukrainian relations and another sour issue inherited from the Yeltsin era. The first problem to be dealt with by Putin was the issue of gas deliveries and pipeline constructions through Ukraine. These issues were particularly sour in spring and summer 2000 when the Ukrainian gas debt to Russia developed into a major conflict issue. Putin and Kuchma tried to solve it by including the gas debts in the general Ukrainian state debt to Russia (to be paid for by future cooperation in the field). The gas debt issue continued to poison the relationship and only in November 2000 did Russia agree to grant Ukraine an eight-year delay on paying its debt for gas

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deliveries, and when the deal was finally cut, Kuchma referred to it as a historic ‘breakthrough’ (RFE/RL Newsline 4 December 2000). The related issue of gas thefts had made discussions and possible agreements on debt even more difficult: allegations that Ukraine had been stealing ten billion cubic metres of gas from Gazprom – a third of which had then been re-exported to countries in Eastern Europe – were numerous. Soon after the presidential elections in 2000, state-owned Gazprom Chairman Viktor Chernomyrdin tried to play down the issue in a meeting with Kuchma, but the issue continued to pop up again and gas thefts continued to mar the relationship (Moshes 2002: 61). Gas deliveries have also been linked to the issue of transit gas pipelines in Ukraine. Russia had repeatedly threatened to bypass Ukraine in its gas exports to Europe despite the high costs involved, and Russia’s Gazprom and Germany’s Ruhr gas continued to discuss the construction of such additional pipelines. The fact that Poland had a stake in the alternative pipeline did not make the issue any easier. In June 2002, the gas pipeline issue took a giant leap forward when Putin and Kuchma, together with the German Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder, decided to create a joint gas transport consortium for the joint development and exploitation of the existing pipeline infrastructure for both oil and gas through Ukraine to Western Europe (see Putin statement 10 June 2002). This was for all practical purposes an end to alternative plans to build a bypass pipeline. In August 2002, the tripartite consortium was set up and in April 2003 the prospecting work began. Another energy issue developed in summer 2003 and was related to oil pipelines. It involved the same type of reciprocal dependency as in the case of gas – the 674 kilometres long Odessa–Brody pipeline was built to pump Caspian oil to Europe but had been idle since it was completed in 2002. The pipeline had great symbolic value to Ukraine since it signified a ‘return to Europe’. The Odessa–Brody pipeline had been connected to the Druzhba pipeline in 2001 (the pipeline that provided Central Europe with oil from the former USSR), but since Ukraine was unable to find exporters in the Caspian region to use the pipeline, it looked more like a failure. In summer 2003, Russian appeals to employ the pipeline in the ‘reverse mode’, i.e. to pump oil in the opposite direction, immediately touched a ‘nationalistic’ chord in Ukraine; the pipeline was used as a lever in negotiations both with Russia and the European Union. In November, Ukraine and Poland signed an agreement, with EU participation, on the development of the Odessa–Brody–Plock pipeline for Caspian oil, i.e. an attempt to link the Polish and Ukrainian oil-transport systems by reloading oil in Brody and transporting it by rail to Plock in northern Poland, awaiting plans to build a Brody–Plock oil pipeline link. Progress has been lacking on the project, though. The general Ukrainian argument was to diminish Ukrainian dependency on Russian oil by tapping also Caspian oil on route to Europe. In July 2004, a decision was made to actually build the link from Ukrainian Brody to Polish Plock. Oil and gas agreements had by now become a cornerstone of economic relations between Russia and Ukraine (see Putin 19 August 2004). As so often is the case, implementation was another matter, and the extension of the

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Odessa–Brody oil pipeline to Poland never really materialized despite some new promises in 2006 (RFE/RL Newsline 1 March and RFE/RL Newsline 7 September 2006). Another related issue, that of gas exports to and through Ukraine, dimmed the prospects further. From summer 2005, the issue of gas pricing lead to a long and intense discussion that in the end would lead to a virtual ‘gas war’ by the end of December 2005. In June, there were some rumours that the old gas agreement was to be exchanged for one based on market prices for deliveries and transit of gas, rumours that were probably tied to the accusation by Gazprom that gas had disappeared during the ‘orange revolution’ in Ukraine (valued by Gazprom to US$1.25 billion). Ukraine tied the Russian gas transit (to Europe) to the pricing issue. The issue of ‘stolen gas’ soon reached the highest political level, and Putin tried to alleviate the problem in stating that the debt for gas would not have to be paid all at once (RFE/RL Newsline 15 June 2005). The issue of the stolen gas continued for some time before it was settled, but was overtaken by the issue of the gas pricing. From January 2006, the price would be raised from US$50 to a planned US$160 per thousand cubic metres. In negotiations, Gazprom suggested a price of US$180, which was not accepted by the Ukrainian side, and negotiations stalled. In October, the war of words deteriorated when Naftohaz Ukrayiny threatened to tap the gas from Gazprom’s pipelines destined for Europe if there was no settlement on the price. This, in turn, was seen as ‘the language of threats and blackmail’ by Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 21 October 2005). Towards the end of the year, the gas pricing issue took on a more serious character, and in late November Fradkov postponed a visit to Ukraine because of the lack of agreement on the gas price. The Ukrainian gas company recognized that the issue had now become a ‘strictly political’ one (RFE/RL Newsline 28 November 2005). The fact that Gazprom wanted an agreement on the gas transit to Europe made it all the more difficult to agree on gas prices to Ukraine. In early December, both Yushchenko and Putin got involved and the general feeling for some time was that the matter would get solved. The general agreement to use market prices had, according to Putin, been reached a long time ago and the time when Russia would be ‘directly pumping from the Russian budget to the Ukrainian budget around US$1 billion’ was gone (Putin 8 December 2005). In mid-December, Yushchenko promised that Russia had been guaranteed access to transit pipelines through Ukraine (thus indicating that there would be no ‘thefts’ or tapping in Ukraine). Closer to Christmas, Yushchenko seemed confident that a compromise would be found once the political side of the conflict was taken out of the picture. The last days of the year would show how serious the conflict really was. First, Turkmenistan and Ukraine agreed on the price for Turkmen gas, while the Ukrainian Prime Minister claimed that Ukraine had the right to take 15 per cent of the gas that Russia transited through Ukraine to Europe. Since Russia wanted both sales and transits to be settled by cash payments and not by barter, this was totally unacceptable. Negotiations in Moscow between energy ministers did not yield any solution, especially since the

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Gazprom price bid now had gone up to US$230 from the current US$50, and Ukraine threatened to take the deal to the Arbitration Court in Stockholm. Putin complained that there had been time to discuss the prices since March 2005 and that the crisis had been created by the negligence to take on the issue by those most closely concerned (Putin 29 December 2005).10 The ‘gas war’ ended in January 2006 when Gazprom reached a complicated compromise agreement according to which it would provide gas to a joint intermediary company Rosukrenergo based in Switzerland (and 50 per cent owned by Gazprom) for US$230 which in turn would resell it to Ukraine for US$95. At the same time, Ukrainian transit rates were increased by 50 per cent. Yushchenko and Putin hailed the deal (RFE/RL Newsline 9 January 2006; Abdullaev 2006a; Putin press conference 11 January 2006), but Ukrainian domestic criticism was hard, and a week after the deal was concluded, the Ukrainian government fell on the issue, and the signing of the gas agreement was delayed.11 When severe weather in Russia in late January then cut off gas deliveries to Europe and Ukraine, Putin accused Ukraine of gas thefts which brought some new fuel to the heated debate (Putin Press Conference 31 January 2006). Domestic Ukrainian demands to cancel the January gas deal continued all through the spring and summer, but Yushchenko remained steadfast on the issue. Putin continued to defend the Gazprom deal (Belton 2006c). Putin claimed that criticism of the gas deal was ‘political’ and not understandable ‘outbursts of emotions’ (RFE/RL Newsline 28 June 2006), and rhetorically asked why Germany should pay US$250 while Ukraine paid only US$50? (RFE/RL Newsline 5 July 2006). In August, the new Ukrainian Prime Minister Yanukovich visited Moscow to discuss gas issues, and an agreement was reached for the rest of 2006 and for 2007 on what was called ‘price parameters’ (Maksymiuk 2006d; RFE/RL Newsline 16 August 2006; Korchagina 2006). In September, gas volumes were agreed for the 2007–09 period, and in October it was revealed that from 2007 Ukraine was to buy all its gas from Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan (RFE/RL Newsline 4 October 2006; RFE/RL Newsline 10 October 2006; Kupchinsky 2006b), and that the price would be US$130 (RFE/RL Newsline 25 2006). Domestically, criticism as to whether political concessions had been made by Ukraine or not were denied by Yushchenko (RFE/RL Newsline 27 October 2006).

3.6 Ukraine elections – the ‘orange revolution’ The ‘war of election norms’ between Russia and the West was a rather typical politico-cultural issue that was to deteriorate Russia’s relations with some governments and improve relations with some others. In Ukraine, presidential elections took place on 31 October 2004. In the early stages of the election campaign, the poisoning of opposition party leader Viktor Yushchenko was the most ominous feature, and the involvement of Putin in Prime Minister Viktor

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Yanukovich’s campaign the most obvious foreign involvement. Already from the start, Putin noted that Russia ‘is not indifferent to the choice that the people of Ukraine will make in the presidential election’ (RFE/RL Newsline 12 October 2004), and he also showed open support for Yanukovich. Several weeks before the elections, mass opposition demonstrations took place and grew in size the closer the election date, rising to some 100,000–150,000 in Kiev. The mass demonstrations were a shock for Russia (Matkov 2004; Putin 27 October 2004). A few days before the elections, Putin visited Kiev and again expressed open support for Yanukovich. Russia’s involvement generally in the elections was ‘unprecedented’ (Moscow Times 1 November 2004; Tarasyuk 2004). The Ukrainian Central Election Commission (CEC) initially gave Yanukovich 40 per cent and Yushchenko 39 per cent of the vote. Mass demonstrations continued. The official result was presented about a week later, and this time Yushchenko was declared the winner. A second round was necessary anyway since neither candidate received the necessary 50 per cent. Once again, Putin visited Ukraine and supported Yanukovich (Popeski 2004; Petrovskaya 2004). Rerun elections took place on 21 November, and this time Yanukovich was declared the winner with 49 per cent of the vote to Yushchenko’s 47 per cent. Exit polls showed a clear victory for Yushchenko, though, and mass demonstrations reached 100,000 again, supported by international protests (see Moscow Times 24 November 2004).12 The EU threatened that the future of EU–Ukraine relations was at stake, while Putin, in turn, seriously criticized the European Union and the OSCE for their support of Yushchenko (RFE/RL Newsline 24 November 2004; Medetsky 2004b; Petrov 2004; Aslund and McFault 2006). The Ukrainian Supreme Court ordered a new run-off to be held on 26 December. The German Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder persuaded Putin to accept new elections in Ukraine and internationally assisted negotiations between Yushchenko and Yanukovich continued, while Putin considered Western support for the ‘orange revolution’ to be ‘intolerable’, and prophesied that the Western meddling would create ‘new divisions in Europe’ (RFE/RL Newsline 7 December 2004). Yanukovich called it ‘a creeping coup d’état’, and threatened to send thousands of his supporters to Kiev after the repeat elections ‘to prevent a revolt’ (RFE/RL Newsline 15 December 2004: Kagarlitsky 2004). Yushchenko urged some 80,000 people in Kiev’s Independence Square to ‘defend their choice’ in the repeat run-off elections (RFE/RL Newsline 23 December 2004). The situation was tense. New repeat elections took place on 26 December and Yushchenko received 52 per cent of the vote and Yanukovich 44 per cent. Yushchenko spoke at Independence Square, promising that: [e]verything will change in Ukraine from today . . . that criminal authorities, falsehood, [and the] torture of people will all become things of the past. . . . We were independent for 14 years but we were not free. There was tyranny in this country for 14 years. . . . Today, we can say that all of this is in the past.

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Victory was sweet. Russia immediately recognized the election results and Putin emphasized good personal relations with Yushchenko (RFE/RL Newsline 28 December 2004). The ‘orange revolution’ sent strong signals to the other Eurasian states, and all elections that followed in 2005 and 2006 felt the impact of the Ukrainian refusal to accept rigged elections. West European democracy norms were set against those of a ‘managed democracy’. Russia was on the losing side, and Putin had made a major mistake in supporting the loser. He was to learn a lesson from this in the elections to come in other CIS states. In March 2006, Ukrainian parliamentary elections took place, with the same figureheads as in the ‘orange revolution’: Yanukovich, the leader of the most important opposition party (Party of Regions), on the one hand, and Yushchenko’s party, Our Ukraine, on the other. The many disappointments to the followers of the ‘orange revolution’ in the past year had given Yanukovich reason to believe in a come-back. The situation was opposite as compared to November 2004: the elections gave Yanukovich’s party a clear victory. This was the first election since the beginning of the ‘colour revolutions’ where Russia and Western observers came out on the same side in their judgements. The lesson from fall 2004 had been learned: no open interference in Ukrainian elections.

3.7 Russia–Ukraine relations – summary and conclusions After Putin had become president in 2000, Russian–Ukrainian relations changed dramatically for the better, and in a few years the two countries rather became allies in the political, military and economic spheres. This was the result of a very conscious and active attempt by Putin to reverse the negative spiral inherited from the Yeltsin era. He did so by discussing pragmatic solutions to economic problems (oil and gas deliveries and pipelines, trade agreements) and to political problems (border delimitations and demarcations). In the politico-military arena, the strategic conflict over relations to NATO was defused in the aftermath of 11 September, and the former conflict over the Black Sea fleet and the naval facilities instead generated some military cooperation. In the politico-economic arena, the crucial gas and oil transit issues, as well as joint production of military and civilian technologies, soon became a bone of satisfaction in the relationship. The joint efforts of Kuchma and Putin during Putin’s first presidential term to aim for cooperation with the West together and not in opposition to each other, perhaps paradoxically also offered a chance of integrating economically with each other. The gravest danger to Ukraine was that of energy dependency on Russia. This Russian–Ukrainian embrace was strongly tied to Kuchma personally and partly a result of Kuchma’s isolation by the West after ‘Kuchma-gate’. Kuchma himself was the guarantor of Ukraine’s willingness to side with Russia – whether Ukraine should ‘go European’ or ‘go Russian’ did become an important issue in the upcoming presidential elections in Ukraine in fall 2004. With the new Ukrainian president after the ‘orange revolution’, this happy reunion of the two largest former Soviet republics was bound to change.

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Putin’s economic policy has been aiming at transforming Soviet-type relations based on subsidized prices into normal market economy relations. In this effort, there has been an evident element of ‘economic imperialism’, i.e. an attempt to increase Ukrainian dependency on Russian energy deliveries, and diminish Russia’s dependency on transit through Ukraine by controlling pipelines. The energy brawl in December 2005 and January 2006 suggests a continued conflict over these issues. Many Ukrainian strategic assets are in Russian (although private and semi-private) hands, and Russian influence over Ukraine’s development is bound to increase. At the same time, the new gas pipeline across the Baltic Sea will, when finished, further neutralize the Ukrainian ‘transit weapon’. Putin’s relations with Ukraine were (up to the ‘orange revolution’) an example of pragmatic foreign policy based as much on immediate geo-economic as on long-term geo-political interests. The economic and energy cooperation that was initiated under Putin’s first term is not running smoothly, and the new Ukrainian leadership is not strong enough to withstand Russian economic interests. Ukraine is economically dependent on Russia in more than one respect, perhaps best seen in the fields of energy and capital (cf. Bugajski 2004: 88–89). In the next few years, Russia and the West will continue to fight over Ukraine, where Ukrainian security interests must be balanced with its economic interests. The outcome of the fight will to a considerable extent be decided on the Ukrainian domestic political and economic scene.

4

Russia and Belarus

4.1 Introduction and general developments Belarus is a small country with some ten million citizens located between Russia proper in the east, Latvia, Lithuania and Poland in the west, and Ukraine in the south. Its history includes being part of Kiev Rus in the very early middle ages, later to become part of Lithuania and then Poland. When Poland gradually fell apart in the eighteenth century, what is today’s Belarus became part of Russia. Belarusian nationalism surfaced only in the nineteenth century after rather severe Russification attempts. The fact that Belarus was one of the early four Soviet Republics in 1922 (and later member of the UN General Assembly after 1945) testifies to its somewhat elevated status. Today, many of its citizens regard themselves as Russians (ethnic Russians do constitute some 10 per cent), and Belarus nationalism, although diligently propagated in the 1990s, has not yielded any strong anti-Russian sentiments. Although Belarusian is the official language, Russian was made an official language as well in 1996 and then gradually took over as the language of communication. Geography is important in the Russia–Belarus relationship, precisely because Belarus historically has been the fairly easily penetrable land through which Western invaders have reached central Russia and Moscow. Belarus thus constitutes an important geo-political asset, which explains much of the benevolent development of relations since 1991: Belarus has been the dearest and closest of Russia’s CIS neighbours. Belarus joined the Collective Security Treaty and established joint air and border defences with Russia. In the early 1990s, Belarus also followed the early Russian westward orientation in its foreign policy and did not oppose Russian requests for the withdrawal of nuclear weapons to Russia (as did Ukraine). It signed partnership agreements with NATO and the EU, and President Bill Clinton paid a visit in 1994. When Aleksander Lukashenka was elected president in 1994, this Westward orientation gradually turned into a Russian orientation. In February 1995, Russia and Belarus abolished border controls, and in May 1996, a Belarusian referendum decided on closer economic relations with Russia. From now on, Belarus more or less turned its back on the EU and NATO, largely as a reaction to the double enlargements, later to be reinforced by the mutual animosity with respect

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to Belarus’ human rights record. Belarus is the only European country that is not a member of the Council of Europe, and the Partnership Agreements with NATO and the EU were never realized. Belarus has persistently followed a road of defiance towards the West, and the authorities have eliminated both opposition politicians and journalists, forced Western embassies to relocate (in 1997), closed the OSCE office (in 2002) and closed the only non-state university (in 2004), enforced strict control of media and closed even Russian state TV channels. Lukashenka was re-elected in 1999, and after a constitutional referendum, he was re-elected for a third term in spring 2006. Belarus is today generally seen as the ‘last dictatorship in Europe’. What is more, the Belarusian economic sector became subject to more direct presidential control. Privatization has been very limited and Russian capital has not to any substantial extent been invested in Belarus; the trend is rather to keep Belarusian assets in Belarusian hands. The Belarusian economic dependency on Russia has been most evident in the energy sector, but at the same time Russia needed transport corridors and pipeline transits via Belarus to its European markets. The special relationship with Russia for a long time avoided the main issue of how to integrate economies based on two opposite principles, that of a Russian market economy and of a Belarusian state economy. Russia’s interests in Belarus were primarily security-related in the Yeltsin years (Donaldson and Nogee 2002: 168). Russia has regarded Belarus as the major buffer state against NATO expansion, long before Poland and Lithuania became NATO members. Defence cooperation, especially air defence, as well as arms and military technology cooperation has been an important asset in the relationship ever since 1991. The country itself has remained ‘Soviet’ to an extent that Russia itself has not, which at times has been a problem to Russia. Belarus has actively sought political integration, and a possible union with Russia has been a major issue. Russian relations with Belarus have in Russia been seen as a model for integration within the CIS, and Belarus is still today Russia’s closest ally. The closest possible political relation to any Russian ‘near abroad’ state is, of course, to be joined in a union state, and the only such attempt that has occurred since the demise of the Soviet Union is the attempt to create the Russian–Belarusian Union. Therefore, the history of the Union is singled out as a particular issue below.

4.2 The Russia–Belarus Union idea under Yeltsin Although proposals to unite Russia and Belarus occurred already in 1993 (Nesvetailova 2003: 152), the first real attempts to formalize the efforts to create a union took place against the backdrop of the upcoming presidential elections in Russia in summer 1996 and with the new Russian foreign minister Yevgeny Primakov.1 In April 1996, a treaty between Russia and Belarus – the Russian–Belarusian Community Agreement – on deepening integration was signed, foreseeing a merger of economic and legal policies and the formation of a ‘community’ with supranational institutions.2 It was obvious from the start that

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the treaty created strong dividing lines within the Russian political elite.3 As a result of the existing constellation of forces in the Russian State Duma the treaty was formally endorsed and then ratified. After Yeltsin had won the presidential elections in July 1996, Lukashenka soon became disappointed at the slow pace of the integration process, although there were several meetings of the Executive Committee of the Russian–Belarusian Community.4 In October, Russian Prime Minister Viktor Chernomyrdin urged Belarus to synchronize its reforms with Russia’s, adopt a civil code, unify its tax code and speed up privatization. Chernomyrdin stated openly what everyone knew – that six months after the Community was formed the treaty ‘remain[ed] ink on paper’ and that there were no positive results so far (OMRI DD 21 October 1996). In 1996 and 1997, a few issues strongly influenced the drive for a union. Cooperation agreements were signed, for example ten military cooperation agreements, among them an agreement to create a single air defence system, a concept for a joint defence policy, and an agreement on joint training and joint use of military bases and facilities. The most important unifying issue was the intensified Russian (and Belarusian) opposition to the wave of NATO enlargement. The integration effort was used as a lever vis-à-vis NATO, as a ‘counterthreat’ to NATO enlargement, used both by Lukashenka and Yeltsin.5 Discussions on a deeper integration effort, developing from a community to a union followed and this time Yeltsin took the initiative by proposing a referendum on unification. It was evident at the time that the April 1996 agreement had largely not been implemented. By now, however, Lukashenka had become apprehensive about unification and responded by outlining three basic principles for a union with Russia: that Belarus would retain its sovereignty and statehood as an equal partner, that Belarusian soldiers would never have to fight outside Belarus, and that an alliance must be mutually beneficial. This reluctance on Lukashenka’s part was, of course, in great contrast to the situation some nine months earlier and an indication that Yeltsin was expected to be around also in the years to come and that Lukashenka’s own ambitions of becoming the president of a future union had waned. Yeltsin now urged that relations between Russia and Belarus should be further developed to ‘achieve a level of integration that exceeds integration in Europe and other parts of the world’ (OMRI DD 10 March 1997). Joint opposition to NATO enlargement was an important driving force for a new draft of a Union Treaty between the two countries signed in April 1997. The draft treaty was watered down, however, declaratory in nature and shorter than the one discussed previously, but with the important change that the Community should be transformed into a union where top priority would be given to security policies and border controls, but not a single currency. The disappointment among union supporters who had hoped for much more was evident; the new draft treaty was generally seen as too shallow, and Yeltsin, too, admitted that it was only a first step towards integration (RFE/RL Newsline 7 April 1997). A month later, Yeltsin publicly announced that he himself

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favoured a complete merger of Russia and Belarus as the culmination of the integration process, stating that the Union would be ‘very close’, to the point of ‘being a single state’ (RFE/RL Newsline 15 May 1997). This, in turn, was criticized in Belarus, where it was categorically stated that ‘under no circumstances will the statehood of Belarus be placed in doubt’ – the fear of losing influence in such a union was obvious (RFE/RL Newsline 16 May 1997). At the same time as the final Union Treaty was signed, Yeltsin and Lukashenka also signed a Charter on the Russia–Belarus Union according to which decisions in the Supreme Council must be signed by both presidents. It was obvious that this Charter too would please neither supporters nor opponents of the Russian–Belarusian Union.6 In 1998, there was a new Belarusian drive for a union, and Lukashenka proclaimed the Union to be in a ‘transition stage toward restoring the formerly powerful unity of nations’ (RFE/RL Newsline 5 May 1998) and his foreign minister hoped to see a ‘Slavic Orthodox state’ (RFE/RL Newsline 26 May 1998). The drive for a union was reinforced by Primakov’s appointment as Prime Minister: he proposed a strengthening of the strategic partnership and promised that the two countries now would focus on ‘reaching concrete results instead of exhibitionism’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 October 1998).7 In December 1998, Yeltsin and Lukashenka signed an agreement which (in their view) pointed towards a new ‘union of Russia and Belarus’, with a staged integration of the economic and political systems. Again, Lukashenka was the major proponent of a closer union while Yeltsin seemed more hesitant now that the next Russian presidential elections were in the making. This was also the major engine behind Lukashenka’s increasing interest in a union, since he probably saw himself as the future president of the Union.8 There was, however, also a constitutional twist to the matter which surfaced in 1999. The fact that Russia did not seem intent to change its constitution would later become a major stumbling block, since this in effect meant that the only way for Belarus to ‘unite’ with Russia would be to join it as one of the subjects of the Russian Federation. Lukashenka accused Russia of unwillingness to pursue real unification (RFE/RL Newsline 8 April 1999). Later in spring 1999, the Union issue became directly tied to the Kosovo war when Yeltsin and Lukashenka discussed a joint defence concept. With Primakov’s removal as Prime Minister in May 1999, however, the unification process had, according to Lukashenka, ‘come to a dead end’ (RFE/RL Newsline 14 May 1999). The final draft treaty under the short Stepashin premiership stipulated a ‘soft confederation’ in which both states would preserve their functions as sovereign states and supranational bodies would be advisory only. No presidency was envisaged, but Lukashenka nevertheless repeatedly said that he might run for the Union presidency should there be such a post.9 The replacement of Stepashin by Vladimir Putin in August 1999 was openly regretted by Lukashenka. Notably, Lukashenka was by this time more eager to have just any treaty than to have a far-reaching one, while Putin was hesitant about the very treaty itself. In September, Yeltsin signed a new draft treaty on the Russia–Belarus Union, which

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Lukashenka called ‘a laughing stock’ that did not differ from the existing Union Treaty (RFE/RL Newsline 28 September 1999). Putin announced his hesitancy, noting that integration is ‘a complicated matter’, not to be rushed (RFE/RL Newsline 8 October 1999). Yeltsin nevertheless approved the draft treaty. The major issue for Lukashenka was more immediate integration with Russia, but again under very distinct conditions – that Belarus would remain an independent state: there would be ‘no question of our joining Russia as six oblasts’. Belarus would accept only ‘equal conditions’ of integration with Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 17 November 1999). The obvious reason for Lukashenka’s hurry at this time was the upcoming Duma elections in Russia, the outcome of which (for the Union Treaty) was not easy to foresee. The Belarusian attempt swiftly to push the treaty through was successful, and in early December Lukashenka and Yeltsin signed the new Union Treaty.10 After signing the treaty, both Yeltsin and Lukashenka agreed that yet another treaty was needed in order to establish a common state. Lukashenka noted that the treaty was ‘a framework document’ that was ‘not binding in any way’ (RFE/RL Newsline 9 December 1999). Both the Russian Duma and the Belarusian Parliament swiftly ratified the treaty. The new Duma – elections were to be held a few days later – would most likely show a different attitude to the issue, which of course was the very reason for hurrying the treaty through.

4.3 The changing Union idea under Putin Yeltsin handed over the new Union Treaty to Putin as one of his very last deeds. After Putin’s victory in the presidential elections in March 2000, he visited Minsk within a couple of weeks and firmly placed the economic aspects of the Union at the centre of discussions rather than the political, security or defence aspects.11 Putin and Lukashenka met again in June to discuss the future of the Union, with no concrete result, and in August Lukashenka complained to the Russian Communist Party leader, Gennady Zyuganov, that Russian opposition to the treaty had stopped interaction from evolving (RFE/RL Newsline 31 August 2000). At a meeting with Lukashenka in November, Putin again noted that integration ‘is a very subtle process’ and that a union actually meant that some elements of sovereignty had to be given up (RFE/RL Newsline 30 November 2000). In the first half of 2001, there were some more complaints on the side of Lukashenka, and in June he strongly criticized Russia for creating impediments to the development of the Union (RFE/RL Newsline 6 June 2001). After 11 September, the Union issue took a new turn, as it soon became evident that Putin and Lukashenka had very different perspectives on integration. At a meeting between Putin and Lukashenka in November 2001, the two leaders decided ‘not to speed up processes of a purely political character’, and that a constitutional act was to be the beginning (RFE/RL Newsline 29 November 2001). At another closed-door summit in December, Putin altogether declined to discuss the approval of the Union Constitutional Act (which was supposed to put the creation of a single state to a nationwide referendum in both

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countries). In January 2002, Lukashenka admitted that, although ‘the aims of the Belarusian–Russian Union’ were defined, the ‘tactics’ for the construction of the union ‘are not yet agreed upon’ (RFE/RL Newsline 4 January 2002). The issues at hand – the form of integration and Belarus’ status within the union – were by now highly inflammatory subjects, and Lukashenka promised that he would never make Belarusians ‘secondary people’ in a union with Russia, and that the Union would be built ‘on the principles of equality and fraternity. There will be no unequal union’ (RFE/RL Newsline 13 February 2002). These were buzzwords for a Union where Russia and Belarus would have equal clout. At yet another summit between the two presidents in April 2002, Putin stressed that ‘the common economic space must be in the centre of our union’. Lukashenka expressed his dissatisfaction with the failure to adopt a Constitutional Act of the Union (RFE/RL Newsline 12 April 2002). In June 2002, Lukashenka again met Putin to discuss the prospects for a formal union, the introduction of a common currency, elections to a union parliament and a unified customs policy. Something went wrong at the meeting, however, and Putin accused Belarus of trying to recreate the USSR on the basis of Russia’s economic might, saying that ‘[o]ne cannot restore something like the USSR at the expense of Russia’s economic interests, because that might weaken Russia’, and continued: ‘If Belarus, whose economy equals just 3 per cent of Russia’s, wants to guarantee its rights of veto, sovereignty, and territorial integrity, then Russia wants this too.’ Putin opposed the creation of a ‘supranational organ with undefined functions’ and he was seriously displeased with the integration scheme proposed by Lukashenka – a scheme that largely had been endorsed in the past. Instead, Putin seemed to be offering Belarus nothing more than the status of a subject of the Russian Federation, i.e. to become part of Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 14 June 2002). Back in Belarus, Lukashenka summoned his government and aired his anger at Putin’s recent criticism: he had known for long that Russia did not wish ‘to move toward union. . . . Now we have heard it from the top level. . . . Now we know the position of Russia’s leadership’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 June 2002).12 Lukashenka suggested that Putin’s real goal was to absorb Belarus into the Russian Federation and stressed that ‘[w]e’re not going to be the north western or north eastern edge of any state’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 June 2002).13 Putin, however, reiterated his criticism of Lukashenka’s proposals, saying that unification must proceed ‘unconditionally’ on the basis of a single state with a single parliament and a single government. Lukashenka’s draft of the Union Constitutional Act, according to Putin, preserved Belarus’ sovereignty, its territorial integrity and its right of veto, all of which were unacceptable to Russia. Belarusian reactions to Putin’s statements were, of course, intense, and Putin’s remarks were also used by the Belarus opposition against Lukashenka (RFE/RL Newsline 25 June 2002). In July 2002, there were rumours that relations had become even chillier and that a meeting between Putin and Lukashenka had been cancelled. Just before yet another, later summit in the middle of August, Putin warned that ‘building a

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united state is a tense process that will not move along without disputes and difficulties’ and that equal market conditions were needed as well as ensuring the rights of citizens and enterprises. However, he also said that the two countries would build a ‘unique state that has no analogue in history’ (RFE/RL Newsline 14 August 2002; see also Nezavisimaia Gazeta 14 August 2002, pp. 1, 5). The August meeting made the conflict even worse, and the situation became truly strange when Putin at a press conference after the meeting stated that Russia and Belarus could create a unified federal state after a May 2003 referendum in both countries, with elections to a joint parliament in December 2003, a common (Russian) Union ruble to be introduced by January 2004, and elections for a president of the new state in March 2004. The dates offered by Putin coincided with the dates of the Russian Duma elections and presidential elections (RFE/RL Newsline 15 August 2002). Lukashenka was stunned by this statement and did not respond. However, the real shock for Lukashenka was that, according to Putin, the functioning of the institutions of the new state would be in accordance with the Russian, not the Belarusian constitution, ‘because Belarus is a unitary state while Russia is a federation, and the new country will also be a federation’. Putin added that if Lukashenka was not ready to move rapidly, the alternative was for unification to be ‘modelled on the European Union’, in which case the integration process should be dealt with by the Union’s parliament. The problem with this solution, according to Putin, was that while the countries of the European Union have similar economies, Russia and Belarus have very different economies (Putin press conference 14 August 2002; RFE/RL Newsline 15 August 2002). Returning from Moscow, Lukashenka obviously chose to take Putin up on his challenge. He commented in quite abusive terms that unification in a single state on the basis of the Russian constitution was simply ‘unacceptable to Belarus’. He also made a ‘rhetorical translation’ of Putin’s proposal: ‘Do you agree to dividing Belarus into seven parts, including these parts into the Russian Federation, and granting to these seven Belarusian parts equal rights with Russia’s regions? What will Belarus’ citizens answer? It is not hard to guess – [there will be] a categorical rejection, a categorical “no”. Therefore, there is no sense in discussing this variant’ (RFE/RL Newsline 15 August 2002).14 Lukashenka’s abusive tone continued in the days that followed: Putin’s proposal was ‘a road to nowhere’, he said. Putin was pushing his alternative option – a union similar to the EU – knowing that the first option was not realistic and, in effect, an attempt to put the blame for failure on Lukashenka (RFE/RL Newsline 19 August 2002). Lukashenka continued his criticism of Putin’s ‘ultimate integration’, which were ‘absolutely unacceptable proposals of an insulting character to us. Even Lenin and Stalin did not go so far as to try to dissolve Belarus and make it a part of Russia or even of the Soviet Union’ (forgetting, apparently, that Belarus was a part of the Soviet Union from 1922 to 1991). The alternative, ‘EU-like’ proposal was also criticized as in effect nullifying the 1999 Union Treaty Lukashenka had signed with Yeltsin, a treaty that had cost him and Yeltsin ‘a lot of blood and sweat’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 August 2002).

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Lukashenka also rejected the proposal for a referendum as ‘totally absurd’, a proposal that ‘cannot be drawn up sober-mindedly’ (RFE/RL Newsline 23 August 2002). While the Kremlin had been fairly quiet during the brawl, in September Putin himself tried to calm things down by saying that ‘[t]he course toward unity of Russia and Belarus will stand political and historical tests and, by joint efforts, we will manage to accomplish the ambitious tasks of ensuring decent living conditions for the present and future generations of the Russian and Belarusian peoples’ (RFE/RL Newsline 3 September 2002). In a letter to Lukashenka, Putin confirmed his views on the three possible integration scenarios (a full merger of Russia and Belarus into a single state, a supra-state formation like the EU, and unification on the basis of the 1999 Union Treaty). Lukashenka called the letter a propaganda move: ‘The same story – to divide Belarus and incorporate it by pieces’ (RFE/RL Newsline 9 September 2002). The unification issue did, of course, get cooled off for some time after this clash between the two presidents, although the Union idea was not altogether dead (especially not among left-wing politicians).15 At a summit in January 2003, no decisions were taken (see Nezavisimaia Gazeta 21, pp. 1, 2 and Nezavisimaia Gazeta 22 January 2003, p. 5), but by March there were some positive developments on the Union issue when the parliaments of the two countries agreed on a Constitutional Act that suggested the two countries remain sovereign within a union, but with a union government of its own (a Supreme State Council – no president – and a Council of Ministers) as well as a (bicameral) legislature. The draft was finalized in April, and by this time Lukashenka seemed to have accepted the ‘one country, two systems’ approach. The extent to which Russia was fed up with the political (as opposed to economic) integration talks was most clearly felt in spring 2003 when discussions on a ‘single economic space’ for Russia, Ukraine, Belarus and Kazakhstan took place. Such an agreement (in principle) was reached in February 2003 (as seen in the previous chapter), but there soon turned out to be (in Lukashenka’s words) a ‘fundamental disagreement’ on the declared goals, and disagreement even ‘of a conceptual character’ and on ‘the essence of a joint economic area and a free-trade zone’. Lukashenka warned that Belarus had other options than ‘crawling into Russia’ or ‘remaining under Russia’s foot’ (RFE/RL Newsline 12 March 2003). The real test of Putin’s attempt to make something out of the Russia–Belarus Union idea concerned the common Union currency. Already in April 2001, a formal decision to introduce the Russian ruble as the sole currency (on 1 January 2005) and a new union currency (on 1 January 2008) had been taken.16 The currency issue remained a major stumbling block and at a summit in January 2003, after the August 2002 debacle, a formal rift over currency and monetary controls was obvious: Russia wanted full control while Belarus wanted to have a joint central bank. In summer 2003, Lukashenka argued that a monetary union could go into effect only after all other Belarusian–Russian agreements on the union had been implemented. Putin concluded that the time had come to make the final

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decisions on the proposed single Russian–Belarusian currency: ‘[w]e have come to the point at which we must decide to go one way or the other’ (RFE/RL Newsline 12 August 2003). Lukashenka continued his crusade against Putin, telling his home constituencies that ‘we might be left without money, wages, and pensions’ if Belarus signed the agreement (RFE/RL Newsline 2 September 2003). Another summit in September brought no solution to the issue (Moscow Times 15 September 2003; Putin remarks 15 September 2003). The idea of the Russia–Belarus Union was officially proclaimed dead by the Russian Premier Mikhail Kasyanov and the fact that the eight years of discussions had not produced any signed and ratified bilateral agreement indicated irresolvable differences (RFE/RL Newsline 10 September 2003).17 In 2004, the discussions and later principal agreements on a Single Economic Space and a free-trade agreement more or less superseded the discussions on the common currency of the Russia–Belarus Union (see the previous chapter). In April 2005, at a CIS summit in Sochi, Putin and Lukashenka agreed to further delay the introduction of a single currency but no new timetable was offered. Again, in summer 2006 there were rumours of an impending referendum on the Union and of an almost – 99 per cent – ready Constitution (RFE/RL Newsline 25 August 2006). In November, probably as a sign of desperation, Lukashenka claimed a Belarus–Ukrainian Union to be more feasible than the Russia–Belarusian Union (RFE/RL Newsline 27 November 2006). In conclusion, Russia’s relations with Belarus under Putin went contrary to the spelling in the Foreign Policy Concept adopted in June 2000 and contrary to Yeltsin’s heritage. From the very outset, Putin held a low profile in his relations with Lukashenka on the Union issue. The 11 September volte-face with respect to Russia’s US relations and the Russian–NATO rapprochement of May 2002 probably helped Putin to take a definite stand on the Union issue in 2002, and constituted a deadly blow to ideas of a ‘political’ Union. Putin’s pragmatism left no room for pompous political declarations and economic integration between the two clearly was the name of the game for Putin. The Union remains but a façade without much content.

4.4 Military and defence cooperation Despite the failure of the unification efforts and the open Putin–Lukashenka conflict, military and defence cooperation had been fairly successful.18 In the field of military co-production, Lukashenka in 2000 proposed a Russia– Belarusian joint defence force of some 300,000 troops, and in spring 2001 there were indeed some attempts to draft a military doctrine for the Russia–Belarus Union with a united or separate command. Kasyanov said that the joint Russian–Belarusian military exercise in August 2001 (Neman-2001) constituted the ‘final exam’ for Belarus in adapting itself to the Russian military doctrine: the new joint military doctrine would be the Russian doctrine with some minor amendments involving nuclear strategy (RFE/RL Newsline 30 August 2001).

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Putin called the shots, however, and a conflict developed between Putin and the Russian defence forces on the issue. In April 2002, the Russian Defence Minister, Sergey Ivanov, complained that ‘political decisions’ were lacking and that ‘we, the defence ministers, pass relevant proposals all the time’ (RFE/RL Newsline 17 April 2002). The general showdown between Putin and Lukashenka in fall 2002 killed all initiatives for some time, but when Sergey Ivanov suggested the creation of a joint Russian–Belarusian army a year later, Lukashenka backed down, believing that this might be used as a lever. In October 2003, the strategic, long-range radar station ‘Volga’ was put on duty (a radar station that substituted the Skrunda radar base in Latvia abandoned by Russia in 1998), and there was also a large-scale military exercise (‘Clear Skies 2003’) in Belarus to establish a joint air defence. In April and July 2004, however, it was announced that the establishment of a joint air defence had been delayed. A year later, at the Sochi summit in April 2005, air defence was again a priority. At a meeting between Sergey Ivanov and Lukashenka, it was announced that the two countries were planning to introduce a unified communications and troop control system in the first half of 2006. In September, an agreement on delivery of surface-to-air missiles to Belarus was signed, and by March 2006 four Russian air defence units with S-300 were stationed in west Belarus. The two states formed a joint Regional Group of Forces that held joint military exercises in June – ‘Union Shield 2006’ with some 8,000 troops, tanks, airplanes and even Russian bombers (RFE/RL Newsline 20 June 2006). Obviously, there have been some cooperation successes in the defence sector, although Putin did not want to be ‘kidnapped’ by Lukashenka’s bad reputation in the West and Lukashenka knows that Putin has an ‘economized’ agenda that spells problems to Lukashenka. Putin does not need to use the evidently good relations between the military structures of the two countries as a foreign policy instrument since the defence cooperation is as strong a Belarusian as a Russian interest.

4.5 Other political issues in Russia–Belarus relations Although the ‘unification process’ has been at the centre of the Russia– Belarusian relationship since the mid-1990s, there have also been other issues, the most evident of which has been the foreign policy problem created by Lukashenka’s rule in Belarus for Putin’s policies towards the West. Here, Lukashenka has been an evident liability especially since Putin’s major foreign policy direction has been towards Europe (before 11 September) and also the United States (after 11 September). Putin’s reluctance to side with Lukashenka was particularly evident in his lack of support for Lukashenka in the Belarusian presidential elections in September 2001 (which Lukashenka duly noted). Inherited from Yeltsin, there were some attempts to coordinate foreign policies, partly driven by Russia’s relationship to the West in the aftermath of the Kosovo war (e.g. in early 2000, a two-year agreement on coordination of foreign

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policies was signed). In the first months of Putin’s presidency, mutual relations to NATO and the United States continued to play a unifying role in the Russian–Belarusian relationship for a short time. Generally speaking, it seems that when Russian–American relations were tense (as they were in spring 1999), Russia–Belarusian relations grew better. Also, when Russia–Belarusian relations cooled off, Belarus attempted to ‘punish’ Russia by (unsuccessfully) flirting with the United States. Putin’s ‘going West’ seemed more or less automatically to have shoved Lukashenka aside. Things would get much worse for Lukashenka with the closer relationship that developed between Russia and the United States after 11 September, and with Russia’s new relationship with NATO from May 2002. True, Lukashenka did pay some lip service to the NATO–Russia accords (as he did to Ukraine’s bid to seek NATO membership), and in September 2002 Lukashenka even suggested that Belarusian relations with Europe and the United States constituted ‘a priority of Belarus’ multi-vector policy’ (RFE/RL Newsline 18 September 2002). He complained about the lack of Russian support in improving Belarusian relations with the West, though. Although placing Russia and Belarus on the same side of the fence, the Iraq war (in the coming) did not really result in a closer understanding between Putin and Lukashenka. At times, Putin must even have felt some embarrassment for Lukashenka’s open mockery of the USA. With the outbreak of the war in Iraq, Lukashenka urged Russia to take a tougher stand and warned that Russia and Belarus could become the next victims in the ‘clash of civilizations’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 March 2003). To some extent, this was probably an attempt to avoid becoming the next victim himself in the US fight against ‘evil’. Later, the Belarusian position vis-à-vis the United States became acute because of the Belarus Democracy Act in the US Congress, which was interpreted as yet another attempt to impede the Russia–Belarusian unification process.

4.6 Energy issues Belarusian energy dependence on Russia has been blatantly used by Russia. Russia has tried to take economic control of the transit pipelines to Europe at least since spring 2002 (Putin speech 12 April 2002; Putin press conference 14 August 2004). After the Putin–Lukashenka showdown on the Union issue in August 2002, Russian oil and gas deliveries soon became a major irritant in the relationship. By November 2002, Gazprom had fulfilled its export contracted for 2002, and, in order to deliver extra gas, Gazprom wanted a higher price, which in Belarus was seen as a way of exerting economic pressure. In the end, Belarus gave in to necessities. The problem with respect to gas deliveries continued in 2003 with some new spices being added. One had to do with the transit of Russian gas through Belarus to western Europe, another involved the privatization of Belarusian petrochemical enterprises. By summer 2003, Lukashenka backed down on a previous promise and proclaimed that Belarus would not sell the Belarus gas-

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pipeline operator Beltranshaz to Russia’s Gazprom ‘for nothing’; that the stakes in Beltranshaz would be sold only at ‘the market price set by Belarusian experts’ (RFE/RL Newsline 25 June 2003). The basic argument was that if Belarus sold control of Beltranshaz, it ‘would sell control of the country’ (RFE/RL Newsline 31 July 2003). Yet a third energy issue was the Russian oil companies in Belarus, and in September 2003 Belarusian authorities decided to freeze some of the assets of the Russian oil companies in Belarus: Russia was certain to defend its ownership rights of the pipelines located in Belarus. Russia’s pricing of gas deliveries to Belarus was a problem too, and in September 2003 Gazprom announced that it intended to stop supply of natural gas to Belarus at subsidized prices by 1 January 2004. The issue was directly linked to the deadlocked issue of selling shares in the Belarusian gas transit company Beltranshaz. In Belarus, the question of raising gas prices was interpreted as part of Putin’s personal strategy vis-à-vis Belarus and seen as evidence of a ‘hardening of [Russia’s] foreign-policy course in relation to Belarus’ (RFE/RL Poland, Belarus and Ukraine Report 2 September 2003). The linkage between the issues of the Union common currency, the selling of shares in Beltranshaz, and the pricing of gas became evident at a Putin–Lukashenka summit later in September, when the two leaders agreed in principle on market-based pricing and on creating a joint pipeline company (Putin press conference 15 September 2003). In October, Belarus agreed to sell a non-controlling share of Beltranshaz to Gazprom in exchange for a quota of cheap Russian gas under a 2002 agreement. The pricing issue soon took on an ugly character in what was really a ‘gas war’. On 1 January 2004, Gazprom ceased gas supplies to Belarus because of the failure to reach an agreement on the creation of a joint company to run Beltranshaz. Gazprom explained that it did not want to be a milk cow any longer, Gazprom had ‘subsidized the Belarusian economy and budget for several years, supplying gas at a loss and having nothing in return’ (RFE/RL Newsline 23 January 2004). Other Russian gas companies entered the scene, but these companies too halted deliveries after Belarus had repeatedly consumed the contractual volume of gas. Lukashenka phoned Putin to discuss the issue, without success (RFE/RL Newsline 26 January 2004). New negotiations with Gazprom also failed, and the Gazprom head Aleksey Miller noted that ‘[t]he “romantic” period is over’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 January 2004). Both Lukashenka and Igor Ivanov tried for a while to downgrade the issue, all in vain (RFE/RL Newsline 30 January 2004; RFE/RL Newsline 3 February 2004). In February, the other two Russian gas companies halted the supply of Russian gas two times due to ‘the lack of a contract between economic entities’ (RFE/RL Newsline 18 February 2004). Gazprom halted gas transit completely as a response to the siphoning off of Russian gas in transit to third countries, and Belarus recalled its ambassador to Russia for consultations. The Belarusian government issued a statement complaining that ‘such an unprecedented step as the disconnection of gas from people in winter with the temperature nearly 20 degrees below zero has not taken place since the Great Patriotic War [1941–45]’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 February 2004). The same day, Lukashenka accepted the

78 Russia and European security sub-complex Russian terms.19 Lukashenka called the halt of deliveries ‘an act of terrorism at the highest level’, taking natural gas away ‘from people half of whom have Russian blood in their veins, when it’s minus 20 degrees outside’ (RFE/RL Newsline 20 February 2004). Belarussia unilaterally raised its gas transit fee.20 In response, Russia accused Lukashenka of ‘trying to divert criticism from himself and shift responsibility for his own mistakes to Russia’ (RFE/RL Newsline 23 February 2004). Lukashenka yielded to the pressure and warned against politicizing the recent row which he called ‘solely economic’, and an agreement on a loan that would allow gas deliveries to Belarus to continue was signed. In March through May 2004, the extremely short-term purchases of Russian gas continued, and only in June, an agreement for the rest of 2004 was finally signed. There was no ‘repeat war’ in winter 2004/05, even though Lukashenka kept on grumbling about the high prices: an agreement was signed with Fradkov in December 2004 to avoid a repetition (RFE/RL Belarus and Ukraine Report 23 December 2004). Lukashenka continued to complain about the price (even though the price was as low as in 2004, i.e. US$47 per 1,000 cubic metres). By fall 2005, when Gazprom announced the introduction of market prices for gas, there were fears in Belarus of a price hike although Lukashenka argued that Putin had promised the same prices for 2006 as in 2005. In December 2005, Gazprom indeed confirmed that the same prices as in 2005 would be exacted, arguing that the reason was the foreseen creation of a Union state of Russia and Belarus. Later, Fradkov frankly stated that Russia’s gas-pricing policies differed sharply as compared to the policies conducted towards Ukraine, Moldova and the Baltic states. The last days of December then saw a gas pricing deal for 2006 with the same unchanged prices as in 2005 at the same time as the Ukraine ‘gas war’ began. In anticipation of what the future would bring, Lukashenka warned his countrymen that there would be no cheap gas in the future (RFE/RL Newsline 13 January 2006). In spring, Gazprom began to threaten with higher European-level gas prices for 2007 (some US$200) (RFE/RL Newsline 31 March 2006; RFE/RL Newsline 4 April 2006; Kupchinsky 2006a), while Lukashenka still opted for ‘a price close to the Russian level . . .’, and suggested the same gas price increase as in Russia itself (i.e. 11 per cent) (RFE/RL Newsline 30 May 2006).21 The jockeying over prices preceded actual negotiations that began in June. They were soon stalled. As in the preceding years, Gazprom wanted control of Beltranzhas which Belarus refused to give away unless it got access to exploitation of Russian fields in return. Belarus used the ‘transit weapon’ to have a say on the gas prices (Karol 2006). In September, Lukashenka complained that Belarus had been offered higher gas prices than Germany (RFE/RL Newsline 2 September 2006 and RFE/RL Newsline 5 September 2006), to which Russia responded that Belarus might get cheaper gas if Russia was allowed to acquire 50 per cent of Beltranshaz (RFE/RL Newsline 6 September 2006). Lukashenka threatened that ‘a price hike to such levels (as those in Germany) would unambiguously mean full severance of all ties’ (RFE/RL Newsline 2 October 2006). There was no choice, though, and despite a virtual barrage of Belarusian attempts to cut a deal,

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with Belarusian threats to close transit pipelines to Europe, Lukashenka had to give in, literally in the very last hour of the year: a lower price for a greater Russian share in Belarusian gas pipelines. The ‘gas war’ in spring 2004 shows the discrepancies of views on the part of Putin and Lukashenka, the former arguing along market lines and the latter along ‘Soviet’ lines. The fight is over the economic system that is to prevail, and Russia is not likely to give in on this fundamental issue. Russian capital is to buy up Belarusian industries of interest, and Lukashenka fears a complete sell-out of the one lever he has, i.e. gas transit. Geo-politics took a first seat in late 2005 and 2006, however, and Russia indeed took a step off the main (market based) road in granting Belarus beneficial gas prices not given to Ukraine and Moldova. But the price was high, and Belarus finally had to give up its monopoly on control of its gas pipeline network to Gazprom to avoid the threatened international price levels.

4.7 Belarus presidential elections in spring 2006 Lukashenka would find some comfort in Putin’s support during the Belarusian presidential election in spring 2006. Belarus’ relations with the West had by 2004 and 2005 become a problem also in its relations to Russia. The eastward NATO and EU expansions which moved the borders of the West closer to both Russia and Belarus constitute the most evident cases. This was nothing, however, in comparison to the impact of the tumultuous ‘war on election norms’ that followed in the aftermath of the ‘orange revolution’ in Ukraine. To begin with, in a referendum largely controlled by himself in October 2004, Lukashenka had made a third term possible for himself. In Senate hearings in January 2005, the US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice called Belarus ‘outposts of tyranny’ and compared Belarus to countries like North Korea and Cuba (RFE/RL Newsline 20 January 2005). When a Belarusian oppositionist was jailed, there were widespread protests both in the United States and in the European Union, which resulted only in scorn from Lukashenka (RFE/RL Newsline 19 April 2005). Lukashenka promised to take ‘harsh and adequate’ steps against any attempt to destabilize Belarus; he was ‘flatly opposed to a scenario of a democratic change of political elites unwanted by the West’ (RFE/RL Newsline 20 April 2005). Russia, United States and the EU had by now dug their trenches in the ‘war of norms’, and when Rice called Belarus ‘the last true dictatorship’ in Europe, Sergey Lavrov came out in defence of Lukashenka in warning the West that democracy was not to be ‘imposed from the outside’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 April 2005). In Belarus, the West was accused of trying to influence elections, and the Belarusian KGB warned that foreign countries would ‘finance a velvet revolution’ in Belarus (RFE/RL Newsline 13 May 2005; Maksymiuk 2005a). Opposition demonstrations resulting in arrests of opposition politicians were commonplace long before the election campaign began and many opposition

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leaders were arrested at one time or another (see Maksymiuk 2005b; Maksymiuk 2005c; Maksymiuk 2005d). Several restrictions on political parties were also imposed. In September, the opposition nevertheless managed to unite around a common candidate, Aleksander Milinkevich.22 The confrontation continued in the fall, and the EU decided to grant financial support to Western broadcasting in Belarus since media was a first victim in preparations for elections. During the official campaign in spring 2006, the police was merciless and did not even refrain from beating up and arresting a presidential candidate (see Karmanau 2006a; Karmanau 2006b; Makhovsky 2006; Petrov 2006; Danilova 2006). The seriousness of the threat of a ‘colour revolution’ was disclosed by the Head of the Belarus KGB just before elections, who explained that ‘a violent attempt to seize power is being planned in the country’, and that participants would be viewed as ‘terrorists’ (RFE/RL Newsline 16 March 2006; RFE/RL Newsline 17 March 2006; Karmanau 2006c; Shepherd 2006). In the 19 March 2006 elections, Lukashenka received some 83 per cent of the vote, while his main opponent Milinkevich received 6 per cent. There were some demonstrations after the elections, not at all comparable to those in Kiev more than a year earlier, though. Belarus constituted a virtual battlefield over ‘democracy norms’ between Russia and the West. Although there was no chance of success in Belarus, tension was high and repressions severe. While the EU kept a high profile in the elections, Russia kept a fairly low profile. After all, there was really no need to interfere in a process that would run its full length in the ‘right’ direction anyway.

4.8 Russia–Belarus relations – summary and conclusions The Union issue was drastically transformed under Putin’s first term. To the same extent that the new NATO strategic concept of 1999 was a driving force between the two states for unification in the late Yeltsin period, so the Russian–NATO rapprochement of May 2002 was a deadly blow to ideas of a ‘political’ Union. Putin’s pragmatism simply left no room for pompous political ‘Union’ declarations at the expense of good relations with the United States, or, for that matter, economic integration between Russia and Belarus. The ‘Putin twist’ of the Union idea was strongly resisted by Lukashenka who feared a more or less total incorporation of Belarus into the Russian Federation. Russia–Belarus relations have thus seen a downward spin under Putin, and the grand design for political integration inherited from the Yeltsin era was effectively stopped by Putin’s ‘economization’ of Russian foreign policy. The real question for Belarus is whether or not to give in to Putin’s demand for economic integration, which would mean a privatization of the Belarusian economy with Russian capital. The energy and pipeline sector has been a prime object of Russian interest. While the Russia–US rapprochement had some impact on Putin’s decision to finally set the score straight with Lukashenka, he certainly seemed to have

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decided on the general roadmap a long time before that. Later developments, e.g. the fact that Russia and Belarus found themselves on the same side of the fence in the Iraq war have been more of an embarrassment to Putin than something that helped boost the integrative efforts. The ‘colour revolutions’ in 2004 and 2005 have increasingly forced Putin and Lukashenka to the same side of the fence against the democratization drive of the West, and this could indeed change the conditions also for further integration of Russia and Belarus. Despite the adverse personal relationship between Putin and Lukashenka, military and defence cooperation has continued to flourish under Putin. Only at the highest strategic level has Putin hesitated, and there has been an evident twolevel game in Russia. Strategic or geo-political considerations are not easy to avoid, and in the end Putin might have to choose between support for US ‘democratization’ goals (with respect to Belarus) and/or engulfing Belarus economically (at high costs), or simply accepting a looser Union leaving Belarus more or less on its own. At the same time, Russia and Belarus constitute the closest military allies that exist in the post-Soviet space, and the importance of this fact should neither be overlooked, nor overemphasized. There are still some unresolved issues with respect to military cooperation (e.g. how far defence integration should go), since the Russian political establishment resists further military integration.

5

Russia and Moldova

5.1 Introduction and general developments Moldova is a small country which borders on Ukraine in the north, east and south, and on Romania in the west. It is located inland (to the northwest of the Black Sea) and has some 4.3 million inhabitants, out of which some one million are Ukrainians and Russians. There are two larger ethnicity-based areas: the Gaugaz, a Christian Turkish people who live in the south, and Russians/ Ukrainians who live in the east, Russians particularly in Transdniester, on the east side of the Dniester river. Many peoples have lived in the area today called Moldova, and the origin of Moldova is complicated. Many peoples have been chased out of the region by newcomers for the last several thousand years. In the early middle ages, the Bessarabian area (west of Dniester) belonged to the Bulgar state before the Mongols and Magyars divided the country. Today’s Moldova is the centre of the Bessarabian region, which became part of the Moldovan fiefdom. Moldova was later part of the Ottoman Empire, and after the Napoleonic wars, it came under Russian hegemony for some hundred years. After the Russian revolution, Bessarabia joined Romania (except for today’s Transdniester area, which became part of the USSR). Bessarabia was then again re-united with the USSR as a result of the Molotov–Ribbentrop pact in 1939, and Russians and Ukrainians continued to immigrate to Moldova. To no one’s surprise, today’s Moldovan culture has thus been influenced by the Romanian, Turkish and Russian cultures.1 Moldovans speak a dialect of Romanian, and in the late 1980s, when Moldovan nationalism surfaced, the Moldovan language was declared the official language. This triggered violent opposition first of all in Transdniester. After the dissolution of the USSR, there were political movements in Moldova that advocated joining Romania, and the general Moldovan policy was clearly oriented towards the West and away from Russia (Jackson 2003: 84). Proclamations of independence from the two districts Gaugaz and Transdniester followed in December 1989, and in 1990 a local Transdniester referendum voted in favour of independence. The Moldovan declaration of independence was immediately followed by a corresponding Transdniestrian declaration, and the

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Moldovan presidential election in December 1991 was countered by a similar presidential election in Transdniester. A short war followed when the central Moldovan government tried to take control of Transdniester in spring 1992. Transdniestrian forces, in turn, were supported by the large Russian military contingent – the 14th Army – based in Transdniester since 1945 (but largely containing local Transdniestrian Russians).2 In summer 1992, a peace agreement was reached and a peace force established with Moldovan, Russian and Transdniestrian personnel. The status of Transdniester was left for future negotiations. The fact that Transdniester had its own army, currency and border guards indicates the seriousness of the matter. The mixed ethnicity pie along Soviet-drawn borders did not make things easier.3 Since then, Russia’s relations with Moldova have been strongly influenced by the self-proclaimed Transdniester republic (which sometimes is referred to as Russia’s second Kaliningrad) (Bugajski 2004: 99). While the conflict has been fairly low-key since 1992, the instability of the region has been reinforced by the large amount of weapons stored from the Soviet era and has drawn the attention of somewhat shadowy interests not seldom directly connected to the political leadership in the region itself (Bugajski 2004: 109). The Moldovan nationalistic drift towards Romania in the early 1990s distanced Moldova from Russia, and only in 1994 did a new Moldovan constitution guarantee certain independence to Gaugaz, but the situation in Transdniester did not allow for a similar recognition. In 1994, Russia promised to withdraw its troops by 1997 (it did withdraw some troops, lowering the numbers from 10,000 to 5,000 men in 2001 and to 1,500 men in 2003). The last troop contingents and weapon storages remained in Transdniester, partly in protest against NATO enlargement, but formally because the Russian Duma never ratified the 1994 agreement on troop withdrawals.4 There were also other problems in the Russia–Moldovan relationship. In the late 1990s, there were attempts at economic reform in Moldova, despite heavy domestic resistance. Combined with the insecure political situation, this sent Moldova into an evil negative economic spiral. In addition, Moldova was heavily dependent on Russia for its food exports and for energy imports. Moldova became deeply indebted also to the West and has had enormous problems with criminality and emigration. Nevertheless, the relationship could have been even worse when Putin took over as President of Russia. In November 1999, some of the Transdniester problems seemed to get solved when Yeltsin at the OSCE Istanbul summit promised to withdraw the remaining Russian soldiers and scrap the large amounts of ammunition (some 40,000 tons) and some 50,000 firearms stored in Transdniester. These promises would turn out to be worth very little when Putin took over. In any event, Russia agreed to restructure Moldova’s debt to Russia despite the fact that negotiations on a Romanian–Moldovan basic treaty had come quite far, the text of which went ‘far beyond’ a regular treaty on good neighbourly relations and emphasized their ‘community of history, civilization, culture, and language’, all to the detriment of good Russia–Moldovan relations (RFE/RL Newsline 27 April 2000).

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In June 2000, Putin made the first Russian state visit to Moldova since the demise of the USSR. The visit resulted in a ‘special commission’ headed by former Premier Yevgeny Primakov to ‘accelerate’ a solution to the Transdniester conflict. Putin also promised to withdraw Russian troops and armaments by the end of 2002 but also warned that Moldova’s sovereignty required ‘the respect of the interests of all ethnic groups in Moldova and in particular those [residing] in the Transdniester region’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 June 2000). In November 2000, a government crisis developed in Moldova and early parliamentary elections were necessary. They were held in February 2001, and the Communist party won and Vladimir Voronin was elected president. His victory was generally believed to improve Moldova’s ties with Russia. Voronin went to Moscow only ten days after his election, proclaiming that ‘Russia has always been, is, and will be, a strategic partner’ in all areas, including ‘joint actions on the international stage’. He stressed that ‘we need to join our efforts precisely in the integrating processes and in restoring a lot of what has been destroyed during [the last] 10 years’. Putin suggested that Russia and Moldova would ‘work to sustain our economic links in order to reach together the targets that Moldova has set for itself’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 February 2001). Indeed, Moldovan foreign policy now turned east for some time, and prospects for better relations with Russia had never been as high – a Friendship Agreement confirmed the changing winds. Voronin said that relations with Russia were ‘strategic’ for Moldova and admitted that the Russian troops in the Transdniester region could be withdrawn ‘only after the arsenal itself has been withdrawn’ (RFE/RL Newsline 5 March 2001). This was to become the Russian official line with respect to the troop and equipment withdrawal from Transdniester. In April 2001, a military cooperation agreement that had been signed in 1997 (but never ratified by the previous Moldovan parliament) was finally ratified. As the story below will tell, this cosy relationship was not to last very long. In August 2001, a new Basic Treaty between Russia and Moldova was drafted, a rather radical treaty with respect to the interpretation of the Transdniester conflict. The Treaty condemned ‘separatism’ and the two sides pledged to refrain from aiding ‘separatists’ or any infringement on each other’s ‘sovereignty, independence, and territorial integrity’. But the Treaty also stipulated that the Russian language played an ‘important role’ and Moldova pledged to ‘ensure the necessary conditions for Russian-language instruction’ in schools (RFE/RL Newsline 13 August 2001).5 The new Treaty envisaged Russia as a mediator in the negotiations under way with Transdniester and Igor Ivanov called the treaty ‘a landmark’ (RFE/RL Newsline 6 November 2001). The Treaty was signed by Putin and Voronin at their seventh meeting since March the same year. Voronin commented that their views were ‘either close or coincide’, and Putin said that he was ‘personally convinced that it is in Russia’s national interest to settle the Transdniester conflict on the basis of Moldova’s territorial integrity and sovereignty, while respecting the interests of all ethnic groups living in Moldova, including [those living in] Transdniester’. The Treaty condemned ‘separatism in all its forms’ and the two sides promised not to support

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separatist movements. Russian-language instructions were pre-ordained, and Voronin said that he preferred ‘all Moldovans to speak Russian’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 November 2001 and RFE/RL Newsline 20 November 2001).6 The change of Moldovan government also changed Moldovan–Romanian relations. Romania threatened to re-examine the relationship, especially since Voronin insisted that Moldova would implement its strategic relationship with Russia to the detriment of Romania, and suggested that Romania’s colonial attitude to Moldova was a thing of the past (RFE/RL Newsline 11 March 2002). The Moldovan foreign policy change had indeed turned as pro-Russian as the Russian foreign policy had become pro-Moldovan. Moldovan opposition forces that protested against this change continued to be very active against Russia and its involvement in Transdniester, however. By fall 2003, demonstrations had become a common feature also outside the Russian embassy in Chisinau, and by November the demonstrations became high politics when Putin cancelled a visit to Chisinau. In January 2004, Moldovan opposition burned a Russian flag and a portrait of Putin (RFE/RL Newsline 6 January 2004). Protesters turned on the Moldovan government and demonstrations continued every Sunday at the place where Moldova’s independence movement began 15 years earlier. It was evident that the Moldovan president had stepped on more than one toe in his endeavours to solve the most problematic Transdniester issue with Putin. In connection with the demonstrations in Chisinau, Moldovan–Romanian relations also deteriorated. This situation was not to last for very long, though, and when Romania entered the EU, Voronin had probably already decided to head for EU membership too. In consequence, the Moldovan–Romanian relationship took a turn for the better, and Voronin suggested that ‘the current mutual mistrust’ was a thing of the past (RFE/RL Newsline 26 January 2004). In fall 2004, Voronin wanted to ‘raise to the highest level’ Moldova’s relations with Romania and vowed to promote ‘a very attractive good-neighbourly policy’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 September 2004). In January 2005, Romania announced that Moldova’s road to Europe would go through Romania (RFE/RL Newsline 12 January 2005 and 21 January 2005), and Voronin admitted that relations had been ‘abnormal’ and hailed the new relationship (RFE/RL Newsline 24 January 2005). Moldova’s better relations with Romania as well as with the USA, NATO and the EU did interfere negatively in the good Moldovan–Russian good relationship that had developed from 2001. The Transdniester problem nevertheless remained the most difficult nut to crack in the relationship and Russia held Voronin responsible since fall 2003. Before the Moldovan presidential elections in spring 2005, Russia supported Voronin’s opponents and Voronin even accused Russia of trying to assassinate him (Abdullaev 2005a). This was the result of another Moldovan turn away from Russia and turn to the West, and the circle was closed: from bad to good Moldovan–Romanian relations and then a full reverse again.7 Nevertheless, in early 2006, Voronin concluded that the ‘strategic partnership with Russia defines the future of our country’ (RFE/RL Newsline 31 January

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2006). Both the gas pricing problem and a wine ban in spring 2006 caused some irritation, but after the first Voronin–Putin summit (since 2003) in August 2006, Voronin expressed some satisfaction (RFE/RL Newsline 10 August 2006). While the gas price hike did fall hard also on Moldova, it was never as serious as in Ukraine.

5.2 Russia and the Transdniester confllict 5.2.1 Transdniester – conflict and negotiation developments Peacekeeping in Transdniester had by and large worked quite well in the 1990s, and armed clashes have been absent in Transdniester since the end of the civil war. Transdniester has been run by local authorities in opposition to Moldovan central government, and no solution to the formal status of Transdniester within Moldova had been found. The ‘hardest’ security issues at the time Putin entered the Kremlin was the fact that Russian troops were still stationed in Transdniester and that armaments from the Soviet times were still located there. Putin’s arrival on the scene was generally seen as positive for the Transdniester problematique, and the OSCE also expected Putin to take a more active role in the dispute. The former Russian Premier Yevgeny Primakov was appointed to lead a Russian state commission on the settlement of the Transdniester conflict, and he confirmed that the Russian and the OSCE positions on the conflict ‘coincided’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 July 2000). Primakov suggested that Crimea might serve as a model for solving the Transdniester conflict, although he doubted that the conflict in the Transdniester could be solved by granting autonomy to the region because ‘the problems there are very complex’ (RFE/RL Newsline 3 August 2000). A draft agreement drawn up by Primakov involved ‘a combination of federative and confederative ideas’, and the two sides should create a ‘common state’ in which the Transdniestrian Republic would have its own constitution and legislative, executive and judicial bodies (as well as its own flag, coat of arms and anthem).8 The Moldovan government accepted the draft but prospects for progress were dim before the upcoming presidential elections in Moldova (RFE/RL Newsline 10 November 2000). By January 2001, Romania took over the chairmanship of OSCE, which brought an additional problem in solving the Transdniester conflict. The Transdniester leadership refused to attend the OSCE meeting in Bratislava, which resulted in a harsh Russian response that its patience with Tiraspol was ‘running out’ (RFE/RL Newsline 26 March 2001).9 Once the Moldovan presidential elections had been held, the Transdniestrian leader Igor Smirnov agreed to resume negotiations with the new President Vladimir Voronin. During a two-day visit to Moscow in April, Voronin and Putin signed a common declaration that called for a quick and peaceful solution to the conflict by preserving Moldova’s territorial integrity. Primakov suggested that ‘favourable conditions’ existed for solving the dispute (RFE/RL Newsline 20 April 2001). Smirnov was not happy

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with Primakov.10 In May, Voronin left for negotiations with Smirnov in Tiraspol, and some less significant agreements were signed. Putin declared that territorial integrity where due respect was to be paid to the citizens of Transdniester was needed (Putin press conference 1 June 2001). The situation seemed to head for the better. In June 2001, however, the Russian Duma refused to ratify the OSCE Istanbul 1999 resolution and Voronin threatened to end negotiations arguing that Transdniester was ‘playing the game of negotiations, but are in fact afraid of an honest and frank dialogue’ (RFE/RL Newsline 20 June 2001). As expected, the two leaders failed to reach any agreement during their June meeting, and the next negotiating round with the two leaders was scheduled for August in Tiraspol,11 but Smirnov failed to show up in protest against a change of Moldovan custom seals, which amounted to an ‘economic blockade’ (RFE/RL Newsline 4 September 2001). This so-called ‘customs blockade’ soon became the official reason for Transdniester’s negligence of negotiations. Voronin denied that there was any economic blockade in force, but simply new custom rules, which ‘caused a painful reaction’ in Tiraspol because its leaders ‘will no longer be able to carry out illegal operations which earned them up to 1 billion US dollars’. Voronin said that Transdniester had been turned into ‘a CIS and a European black hole’ that allowed ‘international mafia clans’ to indulge in illegal transactions with oil, alcohol, drugs and armaments and make ‘enormous profits’ and that the Transdniester leadership was under the influence of these traffickers (RFE/RL Newsline 6 September 2001). In November, the negotiations finally resumed (with participation of the Russian–Ukrainian–OSCE mediators), but in December, Voronin withdrew from the negotiations with Smirnov after four meetings in realization that ‘nothing can come out of those discussions’ (RFE/RL Newsline 7 December 2001).12 In January 2002, Voronin was again fed up with Smirnov and suggested that Putin simply ‘instructed’ Smirnov ‘to leave Transdniester in peace’ since the Transdniester problem could not be solved as long as Smirnov and his ‘gang’ continued to indulge in illegal trafficking of arms and drugs, and in largescale smuggling (RFE/RL Newsline 15 January 2002). Nothing changed for several months and negotiations resumed in Kiev only in July 2002. Both Moldova and Transdniester prepared their own drafts. Russian pressure mounted both on Moldova and on Transdniester to accept the OSCE’s federalization plan as the basis for a ‘mutually acceptable version’. Smirnov, too, confirmed that the July meeting in Kiev had resulted in ‘absolutely new conceptual principles concerning the construction of relations between Transdniester and Moldova’ and the ‘full rejection of the obsolete views of the Republic of Moldova’s statehood’ (RFE/RL Newsline 6 August 2002). Voronin invited Smirnov and the mediators to a ‘marathon summit’ in Chisinau to draw a ‘final version’ of the OSCE plan for Moldova’s federalization, but this idea was immediately rejected by Transdniester (RFE/RL Newsline 14 August 2002). Renewed negotiations followed in Chisinau, but no real progress was made; while Moldova wanted the OSCE proposal to serve as a

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basis for negotiations, Transdniester now came up with its own ‘more realistic’ proposal (RFE/RL Newsline 26 August 2002). When negotiations continued in October, Smirnov linked the draft to the so-called Moldovan ‘economic blockade’ of Transdniester, and stalled negotiations again (RFE/RL Newsline 30 October 2002). In November, Voronin concluded that the negotiations had become ‘fruitless’ (RFE/RL Newsline 20 November 2002). In December 2002, negotiations were resumed in Moscow in the presence of the three mediators, and Russia asked the parties in the conflict to show ‘more political will’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 December 2002). In February 2003, Putin met with Voronin and the two agreed that negotiations must continue with the OSCE, Russia and Ukraine as mediators. Voronin proposed to draft a new constitution together with Transdniester authorities which Transdniester called ‘a public recognition of previous mistakes’ by Voronin (RFE/RL Newsline 14 February 2003), and signalled that ‘Moldova was giving up its former ambitions’ (RFE/RL Newsline 18 February 2003). At last, things seemed to be heading in the right direction. In March, a new round of negotiations started in Chisinau (together with the three mediators), focusing on the OSCE plan and Voronin’s proposal on a new constitution jointly with Tiraspol. In late April, a new round of negotiations began in Tiraspol, where the main issue was to set up a Joint Constitutional Commission – JCC – to elaborate Moldova’s federal constitution with both Moldovan and Transdniester representatives. The meetings of the JCC were delayed over and over again, and only in July did the Moldovan and Transdniester representatives reach an agreement on the procedural rules. In April, the OSCE presented the idea of establishing a multinational peacekeeping force in Transdniester in talks with Voronin and Smirnov (RFE/RL Newsline 3 April 2003). The EU was now intervening more forcefully and threatened to take measures against the Transdniester leadership if it continued to apply ‘brakes’ on the negotiations process (RFE/RL Newsline 18 April 2003). The EU clearly backed the Moldovan federalization plan. The question of OSCE peacekeepers (together with Russian troops) negatively influenced the negotiations, and Russia feared that the idea could ‘aggravate the very difficult negotiations’ underway and urged international organizations to ‘avoid statements’ that ‘distract participants [in the negotiations] from the most pressing issues and are made without preliminary diplomatic discussions using the established negotiations mechanism’ (RFE/RL Newsline 21 July 2003). The OSCE then withdrew the proposal. In September, the OSCE resurfaced its July offer for EU peacekeepers, adding that the EU would take part in the negotiations. Not unexpectedly, Russia signalled opposition to the idea (RFE/RL Newsline 15 September 2003). In the meantime, the JCC met to discuss citizens’ rights and freedoms, and very soon Transdniester again demanded its own constitution in addition to a federal one: Transdniester wanted the federal state to be based on two distinct subjects while Moldova envisaged a classic federation with a single constitution. In congruence, Transdniester insisted on two classifications of citizenship while

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Moldova wanted a unified citizenry. A joint draft constitution was nevertheless completed by the JCC but the negotiations were stalled because of the Transdniester insistence on a separate Transdniester citizenship. In September, Smirnov threatened to withdraw altogether from negotiations if there would not be ‘a contractual federation consisting of two equal states’ (RFE/RL Newsline 2 September 2003). The negotiations had lost impetus. At a CIS summit in September, Putin tried to give ‘a new breath to the Transdniester settlement’ and appointed the Russian presidential deputy chief of staff Dimitri Kozak to represent Russia in the Transdniester negotiations (RFE/RL Newsline 18 September 2003). This received a positive response in Moldova where Kozak was praised as a ‘reputed jurist’ and a ‘representative of reform forces’ within Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 19 September 2003). In October, the three mediators drafted a ‘basic political document’ outlining yet another compromise proposal for rekindling negotiations, referring to an ‘asymmetrical structure with a very clear delineation of jurisdiction’ between Moldova and Transdniester (RFE/RL Newsline 3 November 2003). The number of drafts on the table was to increase even more. In November, Putin announced that Russia had drafted its own plan for setting up a federal state in Moldova, drawn up by Dmitri Kozak. This so-called Kozak plan also envisaged an ‘asymmetrical federation’ between Moldova and Transdniester with unified defence, customs and finance systems and a single currency. Voronin at first reacted positively to the Kozak plan, recognizing its resemblance to the OSCE proposal: ‘[h]istory is offering us a unique chance’, he said, and political leaders must now ‘leave narrow party interests behind and think of the country’s future’. Smirnov also reacted positively, even if the draft was ‘not an ideal one, but is a good basis for joint work’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 November 2003). The Kozak plan seemed to promise a new start. Putin was to sign the Kozak plan together with Voronin in Chisinau. The day before the visit, Voronin backed off from the agreement and Putin cancelled the visit. This turn of events was to colour Putin’s relations with Voronin for a long time to come. For Voronin, the situation was politically dangerous, evident from the many thousand demonstrators that had taken to the streets of Chisinau to burn Russian flags and portraits of Putin and shouting that ‘Voronin is a traitor’. Kozak himself expressed deep disappointment saying that ‘. . . at the very last moment, on the eve of the official signing [of the document], the Moldovan leadership decided to renounce the agreements which had already been reached’. He deplored ‘the inconsistency of the Moldovan leadership, which constantly changed its position’. In Kozak’s view, Voronin lacked both ‘political courage . . . [and] . . . the political will to engage in a dialogue with the population’ (RFE/RL Newsline 26 November 2003). Street protests had intensified and some 30,000 protesters called for the resignation of Voronin who made the most obvious political retreat in the face of the protests.13 It seemed that Russia was totally unprepared for this turn of events (Abdullaev 2005). The OSCE was unable to decide on the many plans for Moldova’s federalization that had been presented. Voronin promised that Moldova would ‘soon’

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present new proposals that would be a ‘symbiosis’ of the Kozak plan, the earlier OSCE plan and the earlier Moldovan proposals. The mediators met in Sofia in January 2004 to resume the negotiations that had been interrupted when Voronin refused to sign the ‘Kozak plan’. The talks focused on whether a new federalization plan should replace the versions separately proposed by the OSCE and Russia, or if the two should be combined into one. A tentative ‘working program’ was drafted and Moldova and Transdniester both offered some counterproposals.14 When the mediators resumed negotiations in Belgrade in March, a new Moldovan proposal ‘nearly identical’ to the ‘Kozak Memorandum’ was presented (RFE/RL Newsline 10 March 2004). Finally, after five months, the five-party negotiations were resumed in Tiraspol in April, basically to see which of the many proposals still remained on the table. Transdniester immediately demanded negotiations toward a ‘joint federal state’ and withdrew from negotiations (RFE/RL Newsline 30 April 2004). The negotiations thus seemed dead. In June, Voronin launched the Stability and Security Pact for Moldova – SSPM – a plan to be signed by Moldova, Russia, the USA, the EU, Romania and Ukraine to facilitate a speedier conclusion of the negotiations.15 Smirnov later explained that Transdniester now agreed to a ‘real federation’ with Moldova, a ‘federation of full equals of Moldova and Transdniester’ (RFE/RL Newsline 11 June 2004); this was a major concession. When the negotiations were to resume again in late June, the Transdniester representatives failed to show up, though. Smirnov had decided to play hard-ball, and one of his instruments was the school situation in response to Voronin’s so-called economic blockade (to be treated below). From now on, Voronin seemed to have given up and said that he would resume negotiations only after Transdniester had been ‘liberated from the junta that has stolen the right to speak for the region’, when the ‘fascist-like totalitarian regime’ led by ‘a handful of [Russian] carpetbaggers and oligarchs’ had been ousted (RFE/RL Newsline 24 August 2004). In September, he suggested that the ‘Transdniestrian regime is and will stay a puppet, as it is actually ruled by Russia and Ukraine’. Only Russia could solve the problem (RFE/RL Newsline 3 September 2004). Smirnov again toughened his tone with a military parade and Russia responded that ‘Chisinau is no less responsible’ for the deterioration of the situation than is Tiraspol, that both sides ‘lack the political will to reach a compromise’ (RFE/RL Newsline 30 September 2004). Voronin also confessed that he had become ‘. . . considerably cooler toward the federalization idea’ and wanted the five format negotiations (in existence for 12 years) to be exchanged for one in which the EU and the USA would be involved (RFE/RL Newsline 1 October 2004). By now, the EU had endorsed the SSPM launched by Voronin in June. The OSCE meeting in December ended without any signing of the SSPM, though, and it would take a whole year for the negotiations to resume. In the meantime, Moldova reiterated its wish that the EU and United States were granted observer status (RFE/RL Newsline 4 January 2005), while Transdniester defended the existing framework for negotiations. In May, both Transdniester

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and Moldova agreed to involve the United States and the European Union in the settling of the conflict, while Russia still hesitated about the need for an expansion of the five format. The Moldovan and Ukrainian parliaments worked on a draft plan that granted greater autonomy to Transdniester, but Russia complained about the coercive nature of the plan, and announced that it would draft a new ‘Kozak plan’ to be based on the first one from 2003 instead (RFE/RL Newsline 13 June 2005). The stalemate continued. In August, there were again some meetings between the mediators to resume talks and in late September Russia gave up its resistance on a larger negotiation format and accepted EU and the US observers in the negotiations. In October, the second Russian Kozak plan was presented, which Moldova immediately rejected as promoting the ‘disintegration’ of Moldova (RFE/RL Newsline 24 October 2005). In December, a second round of talks between the negotiators failed to yield results. In February 2006, Transdniester announced that a referendum on independence would be held later in the year, with Kosovo as a model. In April, Smirnov said that negotiations would restart only after Transdniester customs controls had been restored (RFE/RL Newsline 25 April 2006), a clear indication of what the real stakes were. The referendum was held in September and 97 per cent voted in favour of independence.16 The referendum gave Smirnov the mandate to claim his non-interest in a union with Moldova and Transdniester seemed heading for independence. The OSCE did not give up, though, and produced a compromise plan, for negotiations to restart in October. In December, Smirnov was re-elected for a fourth term and promised not to follow Moldova into the EU but instead move closer to Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 2 December 2006 and RFE/RL Newsline 18 December 2006). The negotiations on the status of Transdniester have been difficult mainly because of the many interested parties and the deeply conflicting interests of the main actors. The many ups and downs in the negotiations and the obvious obstructions and threats from both main contestants make the mediator’s role more than necessarily difficult. The fact that Russia always has an upper hand in the negotiating team (because of its relations to Smirnov) has made Voronin opt for assistance elsewhere. These negotiations on the status of Transdniester have run in parallel to the issue of the withdrawal of weapons and troops from Transdniester, a problem to which I now turn. 5.2.2 Transdniester – withdrawal of Russian weapons and troops Russian weapon destruction/decommissioning and troop withdrawal from Transdniester has been one of the most persistent and sour issues in the Russian–Moldovan relationship. In November 1999, at the OSCE meeting in Istanbul (that nominally decided several issues related to Russia’s military troops and weapons in Moldova and Georgia), Igor Ivanov promised that Russia was willing to reduce its military strength in Georgia and Moldova in order to meet the ceilings of a revised CFE treaty and signed the European Security

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Charter. There was much controversy in Russia on the issue (Black 2004: 13–14). Smirnov complained that the decision was ‘invalid’, that Russia had assumed obligations that were ‘contrary to its previous statements on the importance of synchronizing the troop withdrawal with the settlement of the Transdniester problem’, and asked Putin (as the Prime Minister) not to implement the Istanbul decisions (RFE/RL Newsline 2 December 1999). Putin seemed to listen, and in spring 2000 Russia re-interpreted the decision to mean that a synchronization of troop withdrawal with a resolution on the status of Transdniester was needed. According to Moldova, this was a distortion: instead, Russia had undertaken to withdraw or destroy its arsenal by the end of 2001 and to withdraw all its troops by the end of 2002 (RFE/RL Newsline 12 January 2000). In spring 2001, Yevgeny Primakov (the chairman of the Russian State Commission for the settlement of the Transdniester conflict), explained that the Russian troops would ‘sooner or later’ be withdrawn, but that it was impossible to speak about timing since ‘a withdrawal cannot take place in conditions of an unsolved conflict’ (RFE/RL Newsline 20 April 2001). A month later, there was again a turn of the Russian position when Russia and OSCE issued a joint statement in which they agreed on the procedure of removing troops and arsenal. According to the Russian side, the agreement demonstrated ‘Russia’s scrupulous respect of international commitments . . . in implementing the [November 1999] Istanbul summit decisions’ (RFE/RL Newsline 30 May 2001). In August, Russia promised that ‘the first stage in the withdrawal and reconversion of Russian military equipment from Transdniester would indeed be completed by the end of 2001’ (RFE/RL Newsline 3 August 2001). Smirnov protested that Russia was ‘betraying the interests of Transdniester’ and that the armament demolition ‘needed synchronization with a normalization of relations between Chisinau and Tiraspol’ (RFE/RL Newsline 24 August 2001). In November, seven freight trains carrying Russian artillery equipment left Transdniester, and the OSCE concluded that Russia now had ‘fulfilled its international obligations’ assumed at the 1999 OSCE summit in Istanbul (RFE/RL Newsline 15 November 2001). It was also announced that Russia would withdraw 12,000 tons (of the total 42,000 tons) of ammunition in the first half of 2002.17 With respect to the troops remaining in Transdniester, the general idea was that Russia would ‘gradually’ reduce them from 2,500 to 1,600 men in pace with the removal of the military equipment (RFE/RL Newsline 29 November 2001). The armament withdrawal was a serious political issue for Transdniester and by January 2002, the local authorities began to disturb the pull-out by preventing the OSCE mission from inspecting trains that were about to leave Transdniester. Transdniester blamed the disturbances on Russia’s failure to cancel a US$100 million debt owed by Transdniester for Gazprom gas deliveries (RFE/RL Newsline 7 May 2002). This was a typical example of blackmail of the Transdniester regime, and the OSCE accordingly blamed the Transdniester authorities and not Russia for this failure (RFE/RL Newsline 11 July 2002). In September,

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Russia signed an agreement with Transdniester according to which the withdrawal would be resumed and Russia would write off US$100 million of the debt for Russian gas. There were delays, though, and at a EU–Russia summit in Brussels, Putin openly blamed the Transdniester authorities: ‘Russia has not only assumed the obligation, but is itself interested in withdrawing its troops from the Transdniester. Unfortunately, the Transdniester leadership is made up of people with whom it is difficult to discuss issues of this kind. They have their own interests, their own concepts of national interests’ (RFE/RL Newsline 12 November 2002). The December 2002 summit of the OSCE set 31 December 2003 as the new deadline for removing Russian troops and armament from Transdniester. The postponement was recognition of the Transdniestrian power to control the local situation. In June 2002, the Transdniester authorities again blocked the evacuation of weapons and ammunition, claiming that Russia had not met its obligation to write off part of the US$100 million gas debts (RFE/RL Newsline 1 August 2002). Only in November did the two trains (blocked since June) leave Transdniester. Russia confirmed that it would not be able to complete the withdrawal by 31 December 2003 as promised, because there was not enough time (Shafir 2003). In January 2004, another train was stopped, and only in March did the first train with armaments (for the year) leave Transdniester. Russia continued to claim that the Russian troops were unable to leave the depots unguarded and that ‘not everything on this issue depends on [Russia’s] will’ (RFE/RL Newsline 9 April 2004). Since March 2004, and especially in June, the USA and NATO tightened the screws on Russia, and urged Russia to respect its 1999 commitments on troop withdrawal from Transdniester using the CFE Treaty as a tool. In October, Sergey Ivanov (during a meeting with NATO defence ministers) said that the 1,500 Russian troops would stay until the evacuation of Russian weaponry had been completed (RFE/RL Newsline 5 November 2004). In December, the tone hardened on all sides again, and the United States and the EU were urged to more actively pursue a settlement (RFE/RL Newsline 1 December 2004). Russia suggested that ‘the reason the withdrawal of Russian weapons [has been halted] is known: the deterioration of Chisinau–Tiraspol relations after the refusal of the Moldovan authorities to sign [in November 2003] the Kozak memorandum – a document which represented a real solution [for solving] the Transdniester conflict’ (RFE/RL Newsline 8 December 2004). The linking of the two issues indicates that Russia was not, after all, as innocent as claimed with respect to the halted evacuations. This Russian argument continued all through 2005 (RFE/RL Newsline 10 November 2005 and RFE/RL Newsline 8 December 2005) and 2006 (RFE/RL Newsline 6 February 2006). It was evident that the Russian arms withdrawal from Transdniester would be completed only after a comprehensive deal on the status of Transdniester had been reached with Moldova. The withdrawal of weapons and troops from Transdniester thus remains an unsolved issue. Since Moldova backed off the Kozak plan in fall 2003, Russia

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has resisted a solution. Although blaming the Transdniestrian authorities for the hindrance of the actual evacuation of weaponry, the blame for the evacuation problems should be put on Russia which has had the force but not the desire to solve them. Furthermore, Russia has not been a stranger to using the situation in Transdniester to further its other interests, especially evident in the attempt to link the withdrawal to NATO enlargement.

5.3 Politico-cultural issues – ‘language politics’ There are a number of issues that have a direct impact on Russian–Moldovan relations apart from the Transdniester problematique. Most of them have in one way or the other been tied to what I choose to call ‘language politics’, i.e. attempts to use minority languages and related cultural issues as instruments in the political struggle. In Moldova, this has taken several different features, some of which are treated below. In July 2001, after Voronin had become president, it was announced that Russian would obtain the status of an official language in Moldova (RFE/RL Newsline 27 July 2001), and the authorities promised to ‘ensure the necessary conditions for Russian-language instruction in schools’ (RFE/RL Newsline 13 August 2001). This notion was strongly protested among nationalists in Moldova. In spring 2002, Voronin believed the chances of making Russian the country’s second official language were ‘quite realistic’ and Putin thanked Voronin for his efforts to solve ‘the problems related to the Russian language’ in Moldova (RFE/RL Newsline 4 March 2002). Opposition continued to be strong and Voronin’s attempt failed but was in no way dead. In 2001 and 2002, what initially seemed to be a question of the status of the Russian language in Moldovan schools soon turned out to be a highly explosive issue with far-reaching consequences both domestically, with respect to Transdniester, and internationally, especially to relations with Romania and Russia. In 2001, the governing Communist party proposed to introduce compulsory Russianlanguage classes at all school levels, which so far had been optional. The opposition accused the communists of ‘Russification’, and teachers protested. In February 2002, the government was asked to ‘suspend or nullify’ the decision, because the protests were leading to ‘the division of society along ethnic lines’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 February 2002). The harm was already done, though, and this retreat did not pacify the situation since other identity issues added to the fire.18 The school protests had turned into anti-communist and anti-Russian mass demonstrations. With 60,000 protesters on the streets of Chisinau, the Moldovan government annulled the decision to introduce compulsory Russian-language classes. Voronin called the ongoing demonstrations an ‘attempted putsch’ (coup), and claimed that Moldova had been ‘infected by the virus of nationalism, extremism, and insanity’ (RFE/RL Newsline 25 February 2002). The language issue surfaced again, when (in July) Voronin said that reintegration was a strategic goal for the Moldovan society as a whole: ‘The only way we can achieve that is by getting rid of the heavy burden of [mutual] mistrust,

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nationalism, and xenophobia, by rising above personal ambitions and facing today’s realities.’ The text of this National Policy Concept claimed that Moldova’s statehood has been based on ‘Moldovan’ and Russian bilingualism, and that the ‘Moldovan language’ must be the country’s state language, while Russian must be a ‘language of interethnic communication’ used ‘in all spheres of state and society’ (RFE/RL Newsline 28 July 2003).19 The next time school curricula or language issues figured on the highest political agenda was in summer 2004 when the separatist Transdniester authorities attempted to run their own version of discriminating language preferences. The first trick was to take over administrative power of Transdniester schools: a local Transdniestrian education permit was needed since the ‘Romanian language and literature – as well as Romanian history taught in Moldovan schools – instill in the minds of the children values contrary to those of the Transdniester Republic’. The second trick was to create physical problems for the schools by shutting them down and cutting off electricity. Criticism was harsh not only from Chisinau but also from OSCE (RFE/RL Newsline 13 July 2004), and even the Russian Foreign Ministry urged Transdniester to take a ‘balanced and constructive approach’ toward Moldovan schools in the region and ‘refrain from any administrative action . . . until the future status and curriculums of the schools are agreed by negotiations’ (RFE/RL Newsline 21 July 2004). Voronin threatened with sanctions and to stop issuing export certificates to Transdniestrian enterprises and to suspend all customs procedures (RFE/RL Newsline 22 July 2004). Russia tried to persuade Transdniester ‘to prevent events from getting out of political control’. The Transdniester authorities continued their evictions of schools, and Voronin called Smirnov and his entourage a ‘group of transnational criminals’ with whom Moldova would no longer negotiate, that to call them ‘separatists’ was ‘too honourable’ for those ready to ‘hold children hostage today’ (RFE/RL Newsline 29 July 2004). By now, also the United States and the EU were considering sanctions against Transdniester. When Moldova did impose what was to be called ‘economic sanctions’ on Transdniester (section below), Russia again expressed ‘deep concern’ and warned that an escalation of the conflict was ‘fraught with unpredictable consequences and has the potential to affect the situation in the region as a whole, Russia urged both sides ‘not [to] allow the situation to get out of control’ and to ‘hold urgent talks’ and also asked for negotiations to be resumed, but Moldova refused to do so until the school issue had been solved (RFE/RL Newsline 4 August 2004). Things were to get even worse when Transdniester accused Moldova of preparing for military actions and called up several thousand reservists. Smirnov said that Transdniester was ‘marching on the road to setting up an independent, sovereign state’ and called on Russia to increase its peacekeeping force in the region and on Ukraine to decide ‘where its interests lie’ in the conflict (RFE/RL Newsline 6 August 2004). Transdniester also cut electricity supplies to some 55 Moldovan villages in protest at the Moldovan ‘economic sanctions’. The escalation was condemned both by the EU and by the United States (RFE/RL Newsline

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9 August 2004). In mid-August, Javier Solana went to Chisinau to help resolve the conflict. Putin said that violence must be avoided ‘at all costs’ (Putin press conference 19 August 2004). Russia, Ukraine and the OSCE handed over proposals for settling the school conflict and Transdniester authorities seemed to yield. By the time schools were supposed to begin for the year, only three of the eight closed schools were opened. International protests did not seem to influence the Transdniester authorities, and it would take until spring 2005 before the schools were beginning to operate normally. While a serious humanitarian issue, it should be noted that the school issue itself did not affect Russian–Moldovan relations as such. Instead, the linked customs issue, to which the school issue was a reaction, did (to be dealt with below).

5.4 Politico-economic issues – trade and energy issues Moldova relies to a large extent on energy imports from Ukraine and Romania, (Pamir 2004: 127), but only Russian gas imports have been possible, and as with other former Soviet republics, Moldova has also been the occasional subject of gas delivery problems. Every winter in Putin’s first term, gas deliveries were halted because of outstanding debts (in 2000, of some US$190 million, the total debt amounted to US$900 million including the Transdniester debt of some US$700 million). Gazprom resumed supplies after receiving payments for recent debts. Putin was to change the situation, and in April, Moldova and Gazprom agreed to reschedule the debt for 20 years. During the June 2000 state visit, Putin promised that Moldova would have to pay less for Russian gas supplies, and in return, Russia would get more shares in a joint gas company. Similar gas delivery problems followed the next winter, however, and by February 2001 Gazprom again threatened to stop gas supplies but after negotiations, payments were made. For the third winter in a row, the same procedure was repeated in February 2002. Russia once again promised to supply inexpensive Russian gas and electricity, this time in exchange for contracts to reconstruct the Moldovan Hydropower Station. Russia’s Unified Energy Systems (UES) also began to deliver electricity at reduced prices in exchange for a majority share in a joint electricity company. As the next winter approached, in September 2003, Gazprom was willing to swap the Moldovan gas debt for ownership of several Moldovan companies in an asset-for-debt deal (including electricity distributors and three companies of the former Soviet military-industrial complex), and also accept an additional 35 per cent stake in the national gas company Moldovagaz. In summer 2004, a domestic political fight in Moldova developed over how to settle the gas debt to Gazprom when Voronin urged the parliament to approve an agreement to settle Moldova’s debt to Gazprom (which had agreed to write off half the debt) (RFE/RL Newsline 16 June 2004).20 In March 2005, Gazprom threatened to increase its gas prices to Moldova.21 In September, Gazprom announced its intentions to increase gas prices from

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US$80 to US$160 per 1,000 cubic metres for Moldova (the same price as for Ukraine). In October, it became evident that Gazprom wanted to have Transdniester’s part of Moldovagaz (a joint Russian–Moldovan project) to reduce Transdniester’s debt to Gazprom.22 In November, Gazprom did the same to take control of Moldova’s main power station after Transdniester had cut off supplies to parts of Moldova. Transdniester itself was also opting for cheaper gas prices, negotiated directly with Gazprom. In early January 2006, Moldova was hit by a ‘gas war’ when Gazprom shut off gas supplies because of lack of a new price agreement for 2006. This time, Gazprom asked for a controlling share of Moldovagaz as well (RFE/RL Newsline 4 January 2006). Instead, Moldova offered its own shares in Moldovagaz in Transdniester to Gazprom to alleviate the negotiations on gas prices. Negotiations resulted in a gas price agreement for three months with a price set at US$110 and with no sales of shares in Moldovagaz, after which a new price would depend on whether or not Gazprom could buy a larger stake in Moldova’s gas pipelines. In summer, the price was raised to US$160. Negotiations for 2007 continued, and Moldova wanted a five-year agreement on prices (RFE/RL Newsline 27 October 2006). Only in December did the negotiations finalize a deal, according to which Moldova would pay US$170 in 2007, a slight increase which would be followed by annual increases up to US$250 in 2011 (RFE/RL Newsline 21 December 2006; RFE/RL Newsline 27 December 2006). It is thus an indisputable fact that Gazprom not only has been an important energy supplier in Moldova, but increasingly also as an owner of physical energy and other assets. Moldovan inability to pay old and current energy debts to Gazprom has been used by the Russian gas giant to acquire desirable Moldovan assets. Moldova was thus one of the first of the former Soviet republics to experience this situation. From a purely economic point of view, the situation from the Russian side is quite simple: if the (state) customer cannot pay in cash, it should pay with whatever there is to pay with. To Moldova, the issue is somewhat alleviated by the fact that a large part of the energy debts stem from Transdniester consumption rather than from regions that the Moldovan federal state controls: neither of the two major conflict parties – the Moldovan government and the Transdniester government – are likely to pay the debts of the other. Since Transdniester occupies a large part of Moldova’s border to Ukraine, border and customs issues have been a problem which has also affected Russian–Moldovan relations. Before 2001, Transdniester was able to export products without clearance by Moldovan customs. Moldova had asked Ukraine for joint border checkpoints since Moldovan customs officers were not allowed on ‘Transdniester territory’. In spring 2002, Moldova put some pressure on Transdniester and froze negotiations, explaining that the talks would not resume ‘until reliable barriers to smuggling are set in place’ along the border between the separatist region and Ukraine. At an Odessa summit with Voronin, Kuchma and Putin, an agreement on joint controls was indeed reached but Transdniester refused to sign it, demanding that Transdniester be allowed to export commodities without

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clearance from Moldovan customs (as was the case before September 2001) (RFE/RL Newsline 26 March 2002). A year later, in May 2003, the Ukrainian government agreed to recognize the Moldovan customs seal (instead of the Transdniestrian seals) at Ukrainian border-crossings. During the high-strung conflict in summer 2004 over Romanian-speaking schools in Transdniester, Voronin threatened to ‘stop issuing export certificates to all Transdniestrian enterprises . . . and . . . suspend all customs procedures on behalf of economic entities from that region’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 July 2004). In August, the commodity export via all border checkpoints situated along the Transdniester border with Ukraine was redirected to checkpoints on the Moldovan-Ukrainian border. Moldova was attempting to ‘establish order in the sphere of exports and imports’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 August 2004). In September, Voronin asked the OSCE and the EU to monitor the Moldovan–Ukrainian border in order to ‘ensure a customs and border-control system according to European standards’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 September 2004). Putin called these ‘economic sanctions’ against Transdniester ‘destructive’ and Kuchma also opposed them. Moldova, in turn, blamed Ukraine for not toughening its border control, a border that had become ‘a zone of smuggling, including . . . weapons’ (RFE/RL Newsline 30 September 2004). In 2005, after the ‘orange revolution’ in Ukraine, Ukraine promised the EU to control the border to Transdniester (RFE/RL Newsline 25 February 2005), and that Moldovan import licences would be needed for Transdniestrian goods (RFE/RL Newsline 31 January 2005). Moldova and Ukraine also agreed to set up joint border controls along the common border and the EU promised assistance, beginning its monitoring function in November. The Moldovan restrictions on Transdniester goods were lifted only in July 2005, and it was obvious that they caused severe losses to Transdniester now that all goods had to pass Moldovan customs rather than Transdniester border controls (RFE/RL Newsline 2 September 2005). Moldova was not the only one playing it rough on the economic scene, though, and in April 2005 Russia imposed restrictions on meat imports from Moldova, followed in May by restrictions on imports of Moldovan wines (constituting twothirds of Russian wine imports). The official explanation was that Moldovan products did not meet the necessary quality standards and that there were no political motives.23 Russia claimed the Moldovan export control to be against earlier Transdniester agreements (RFE/RL Newsline 14 March 2006 and 15 March 2006), and recalled its ambassador to Moldova. The Russian wine ban was also reintroduced in retaliation for the new Moldovan customs control in Transdniester. Voronin accused Russia of politicizing wine exports (RFE/RL Newsline 18 May 2006). Negotiations followed on the issue and in June, Moldova initiated stricter quality controls. In Transdniester, there were some bomb explosions attributed to the export control issue (RFE/RL Newsline 30 October 2006). In November, Putin promised to lift the wine ban after Moldova had improved its quality controls and promised to support the Russian WTO bid (RFE/RL Newsline 30 November 2006 and RFE/RL Newsline 1 December 2006).

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5.5 Moldova, NATO and the EU Moldova sees itself as a bridge between the European Union and the states of the former Soviet Union. Since Voronin became president in spring 2001, Moldova has been eager to speed up Moldova’s EU accession which has not really been a problem in the Russian–Moldovan relationship. The new (August 2002) Basic Treaty did not mean that Moldova was ‘distancing itself from Europe’, especially since Russia was improving its relations with Europe ‘faster than other CIS countries’ (RFE/RL Newsline 2 August 2002).24 While the Moldovan opposition argued that there had to be a choice between the two economic structures, Voronin aimed for a more slow integration and EU membership was only a long-term goal.25 The popularity of the goal of entering European structures was most clearly seen in November 2003 when all three political parties represented in the Moldovan parliament signed a joint declaration on Moldova’s European integration as a ‘fundamental strategic objective’ (RFE/RL Newsline 18 November 2003). In January 2004, Voronin concluded that European integration was an ‘absolute priority’ for Moldova (RFE/RL Newsline 29 January 2004) and in June it was decided to author an Action Plan.26 In spring 2005, the ENP Action Plan was approved by the Moldovan parliament. After the elections in March 2005, Voronin repeatedly promised to take Moldova into the EU (RFE/RL Newsline 5 April 2005; RFE/RL Newsline 3 November 2005). Moldova’s possible NATO accession was an altogether different matter – there simply was no such issue since, according to Voronin, ‘Moldova is a neutral country . . .’ and since Russia ‘has established close relations with NATO . . . [w]e no longer need to make a choice between West and East’ (RFE/RL Newsline 2 December 2002). The pro-Romanian and pro-NATO voices in Moldova did not give up, and Voronin continued to argue that Moldova did not strive for NATO membership, but ‘remain a neutral state’ since ‘we are a peaceful country needing international support from everybody – the UN, the EU, and the Council of Europe’ (RFE/RL Newsline 24 March 2004). In fall 2004 when the situation in Transdniester had become very tense, NATO supported Moldova morally while at the same time avoiding criticism of Russia.27 Despite discussions on the matter, NATO is not likely to get involved in the complicated Transdniester conflict.

5.6 Russia–Moldova relations – summary and conclusions Russian–Moldovan relations have been strained ever since the demise of the USSR. The fact that no state visits took place until Putin went to Moldova in summer 2000 testifies to that. Initially, Putin seemed to take a fresh view of the relationship, but it soon became obvious that the promises at the 1999 Istanbul OSCE summit on the withdrawal of Russian troops and weapons from Transdniester would not be kept. The issue soon became somewhat of a trap to Putin, since the implementation of the accords turned out to be unrealistic in the local

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setting of Transdniester. It would have taken a hard hand to fulfil the promises, and at the same time the politics of dragging its legs served Russia fairly well in the larger picture. There was thus a Russian general unwillingness, especially on the side of the military, to stick to the 1999 agreement, but in addition, there was also a serious problem with the Transdniester leadership. Although at times openly strained, Russia has been able to use the Transdniester leadership to extract concessions from Moldova. The linking of the troops and weapons withdrawal has not made a solution any easier – troops are needed also to guard the weapons as long as they are not evacuated or destroyed, but at the same time the same troops are not able to stop Transdniestrian authorities from disturbing weapon evacuation and destruction processes. In addition, the 2004 NATO enlargement has made a bargaining chip out of the withdrawal issue. The main controversy under Putin has been the actual status of Transdniester within Moldova. Although insisting on the ‘territorial integrity’ of present-day Moldova, Russia has found it more and more difficult to accept anything but a fairly far-reaching independent status with Transdniester. The ‘Kozak plan’ and the proposals following from that have not been able to solve the basic issues of federalization – how much independence for Transdniester is acceptable. With time, this issue has also become intertwined with the withdrawal issue, and Moldova has at times, almost in despair, sought support from outside to handle negotiations, so far without success. Apart from Transdniester, but often linked to it in one way or the other, the swings in Moldovan foreign policy itself have both been a reaction to Russian behaviour and to domestic opposition. Moldovan relations with Russia are also reflected in Moldovan relations with the CIS and the latest integration tool, the SES (which Moldova has not joined) and relations to GUAM, Romania, EU and NATO. The cleavages in Moldovan society itself, quite apart from the Transdniester problem, are also difficult to handle, and Voronin has had to fight quite substantial domestic opposition in his attempts to navigate between Russia and EU/NATO/USA. After the March 2005 elections, there has even been talk of NATO membership in Moldova. Putin has responded with economic sanctions on Russian imports from Moldova in 2005 and 2006. The same economic instruments as in Ukraine have been used in 2006 and the same politico-military instruments as in the Georgian secessionist regions (to be treated below). All three political arenas have been used in the relationship, although Russia has not itself played more than very generally on the politico-cultural arena.

Part III

Russia and the Caucasus security sub-complex Relations with Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia and the regional conflicts

Introduction In the grander scheme, Caucasus could be defined as part of several other larger regional security complexes (e.g. the greater or ‘super’ Middle East regional security complex) or other sub-complexes (e.g. the Caucasus/Caspian Sea/Black Sea sub-complex), but it is also possible to regard it as a sub-complex in its own right.1 As such, it is suggested here that the security of one Caucasian state not only affects the security of the other states in the sub-complex, but that Russia and the three former Soviet republics of Georgia, Azerbaijan and Armenia are so strongly interlinked as to be almost oversensitive to changes in any one of the other relationships in the sub-complex, as well as to changes in general power balances. As part of Russia’s own regional security complex, it is indeed the most unstable and therefore volatile of the sub-complexes. In terms of ethnic, religious and language differentiation, Caucasus is probably the most densely knit mosaic in the entire world, and while the region had been fairly stabilized in some of its conflict patterns during the Soviet era, already from the late 1980s, i.e. before the demise of the Soviet Union, it was evident that the Caucasus mosaic had been set in motion.2 In addition, the fact that state and other borders in the Caucasus are not political borders but rather borders of a geographic and topographic nature (mountain passes) makes them more or less penetrable. Conflicts in the Caucasus are not ‘new’ and ever since the demise of the USSR old and ‘new’ collisions have been a permanent headache for Russia’s leadership. The region was full of previously and currently ‘frozen conflicts’ (Kaldor 1999). In Dimitri Trenin’s scheme of ‘border models’, the newly independent states of the Caucasus could be understood with the help of the ‘buffer’ notion. Russia had a ‘middle layer cake of territories’, the outer of which are Turkey/Iran, and the inner of which are Chechnya, North Ossetia and Dagestan. In between, there are present-day Armenia, Georgia and Azerbaijan (Trenin 2002: 47, 169, 179–180). Borders are uncertain, of course,

and Russia and Azerbaijan have agreed only on some 70 per cent and Russia and Georgia on some 40 per cent (Trenin 2002: 181). North and south Caucasus has always been, still is, and will certainly remain the politically most unstable part of Russia’s inner and outer rim, by far. In the early years of former President Yeltsin, the Caucasus sub-complex saw one interstate war – between Armenia and Azerbaijan (over the NagornoKarabakh region located within the borders of Azerbaijan, two secessionist civil wars – in Abkhazia and in South Ossetia, and also a few new ethnicity-based aspects to bolster the boiling kettle of greater Caucasus (misplaced peoples in Dagestan, the two Chechen wars and its spill-over effects to other parts of the Caucasus). The Yeltsin era of Russia–Caucasian relations is full of alliance shifts and other developments out of control of official state authorities.3 Therefore, it should come as no surprise that any short-hand description of the recent history in the region is bound to be insufficient. In order to add to a broader understanding of the problems in the Caucasus sub-complex, one would also have to start in earlier history. To the extent that such historic backgrounds are at all possible, they will be given in the chapters below.4 Below, some of the more general security dependencies will be traced, and then I turn to the more ‘artificial’ bilateral framework in describing Putin’s foreign policy in the region. Since many of the issues in the Caucasus are linked one way or the other to energy, oil and gas resources and transportation routes, outlets and pipelines, the region is unavoidably part of the ‘Great Game’ in which both Russia and the United States are major players. Energy issues are thus unavoidable to understand the greater picture of the region. This dimension of Russian foreign policy is seen in several of the bilateral relationships, but also dealt with specifically in the Caspian Sea context (in Part 3). Furthermore, the four major armed conflicts in the region (Nagorno-Karabakh, Abkhazia, South Ossetia and the Chechen wars) have coloured Russia’s relations to the three nominal but admittedly very weak states and will be treated separately from other issues. The starting point of Putin’s coming to power was the second Chechnya war. Needless to say, the early Putin period is full of traces of the Yeltsin era negligence, especially in Chechnya. Still in Putin’s second term, Chechnya figures both directly and indirectly in his attempts to build new relations to the three south Caucasian states. While 11 September showed the rest of the ‘old’ world that the nature of warfare had changed, that change had been evident to Russia all through the 1990s. Therefore, to Russia, 11 September suggested that Russia had now been joined in the fight against the new type of enemy by the world’s most powerful actor, the United States. Russia’s own problems in Chechnya have since 11 September insistently been interpreted as an offspring of international terrorism, and Western criticism of Russian abuses of human rights in Chechnya has been rebuked as an element of obvious ‘double standards’ in judging Russia’s situation.5 Furthermore, the terrorist threat, most clearly seen in the many Chechnya-related terror attacks (e.g. the Dubrovka Theatre in October 2002, the Muzorka military hospital in July 2003 and the Beslan school in Sep-

tember 2004) have, of course, been much more evident in Russia than in the West generally. Even before 11 September, there was a general and evident fear in Russia that the United States and NATO would enter the Caucasian region. In March 2000, the Armenian President Robert Kocharian argued that the Russian military bases in Armenia and Georgia should be incorporated into an envisaged south Caucasus security system based on the ‘3 + 3 + 2’ format (i.e. an agreement between Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia, with Russia, Iran and Turkey as guarantors and the USA and the EU as sponsors) (RFE/RL Newsline 31 May 2000). A new Russian foreign policy in the region became evident only somewhat later, in January 2001, when Russia launched a charm offensive in the Caucasus. In June the same year, Putin made some attempts at multilateral summits to discuss more general Caucasian affairs; he met first with the Armenian President Robert Kocharian and then with the Azerbaijan President Heidar Aliev and later with the Georgian President Eduard Shevardnadze (the so-called ‘Caucasus Four’) to discuss security related regional problems and unresolved conflict issues; Putin suggested that relations with the south Caucasus countries had become ‘a priority of Russian foreign policy’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 June 2001). September 11 did speed up Russian–Caucasian developments. The three south Caucasus states were all concerned that unresolved conflicts in their region would be forgotten in the post-11 September world agenda, and Georgia openly accused Russia of taking advantage of the situation to further its own interests in the region. Armenia was concerned that Azerbaijan would frame the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict as a terrorism issue ‘in the hope of gaining the sympathy of the international community’ (RFE/RL Newsline 31 October 2001). During the CIS summit in December 2001, Putin again met with the three south Caucasus presidents (separately) to discuss regional conflicts and security issues.6 Although not very encouraging, these were the most positive signs to be found in the regional security complex as a whole since Putin entered the scene. In 2002 and 2003, Russia’s relations with the states in the region were strongly coloured by ‘spill-overs’ of the Chechnya war and the emerging US engagement and support for a Caucasus more independent of Russia. In October 2003, Putin said that ‘the transformation of the Caucasus region into an area of stability and economic cooperation is our most important common goal’ and that ‘Russia is willing to continue acting as a peacekeeper in the settlement of conflicts in the Transcaucasus region together with its partners in the CIS’.7 Only in late 2003 was there an obvious change in Putin’s mind, most of all with respect to the strategies to be employed. The Russian assistance in solving the dangerous situation during the ‘rose revolution’ in December 2003 and then in the Ajaria and Abkhazia election conflicts in 2004 is one side of such a new strategy. The increasingly evident economic methods vis-à-vis the Caucasian states is another strategy which has met with resistance in all three Caucasian states. Furthermore, the US engagement in the Caucasus region has countered the Russian attempts to control regional developments. Despite this, the main

‘frozen conflicts’ in the region, those in Nagorno-Karabakh, Abkhazia and South Ossetia, are still not solved (by 2006), and they will unavoidably remain high up on the Russian foreign policy agenda for a long time. With respect to the ‘inner rim’ (i.e. the Russian part of Caucasus), policies have changed after the Beslan hostage drama in fall 2004. The longer the war in Chechnya continues, the more evident it is, despite scorn by critics in the West, that Putin has a fairly good grasp of the actual (and horrible) situation in north Caucasus and of the problems Russia is facing. In connection with the Beslan school disaster in fall 2004, Putin talked of creating a system for emergency military administration in north Caucasus, and operative groups to coordinate the anti-terrorism activities of all security agencies (RFE/RL Newsline 10 September 2004). Putin also said that the ‘North Caucasus is a vital strategic region of Russia . . . [which] is currently a victim of bloody terror, but at the same time it is also its breeding ground’. The roots of terrorism in the Caucasus are the ‘miserable socioeconomic situation’ with its mass unemployment and low level of education (RFE/RL Newsline 14 September 2004).8 The ‘international’ terrorism aspect was also evident in Russian statements. In 2005, the decision to set up a new Russian mountain brigade (to be completed in 2008) testifies to the Russian interest in continuing its stabilization role in the Caucasus. The two bases of which the brigade should be created were bordering on Georgia and Azerbaijan, and believed to replace the two Russian military bases in Georgia that are to be withdrawn in 2007.

6

The Nagorno-Karabakh conflict

The Nagorno-Karabakh conflict has been one of the most persistent ethnic violent conflicts since the demise of the USSR. Already in 1988, large demonstrations followed in Armenia after the refusal of USSR to transfer NagornoKarabakh (an enclave of a 200,000 majority of largely Christian Armenians within the territory of Muslim Azerbaijan) to Armenia from Azerbaijan where it had been since 1936. Azeris fled the enclave and Armenians in Azerbaijan were harassed, Azerbaijan closed its borders to Armenia and in December 1989 Armenia declared Nagorno-Karabakh part of Armenia. In 1990, there were armed clashes between Armenians and Azeris in Nagorno-Karabakh. In September 1991, after the Moscow coup, Armenia voted to include Nagorno-Karabakh in Armenia. From late fall 1991, para-military groups engaged in armed clashes which developed into a civil war in which some 800,000 Azeris and some 400,000 Armenians were displaced and some 25,000 died, a very significant war toll. Armenian troops helped to ‘cleanse’ Nagorno-Karabakh and the Lachin corridor (connecting Nagorno-Karabakh to Armenia) from Azeris. Initially, Russia took the Azeri side but later changed its support to the Armenians. A cease-fire agreement was negotiated in 1994, brokered by Russia and Kyrgyztan, but there was no follow-up resolution of the conflict itself. In 1997, NagornoKarabakh declared its independence.1 The same year, the OSCE created the socalled Minsk Group (consisting of Armenia and Azerbaijan, Russia, the USA and France) to mediate in the conflict and offered a peace plan, which the Armenian nationalists opposed. In the turmoil that followed, Robert Kocharian, an astute Nagorno-Karabakh defender, was elected president of Armenia. This was Yeltsin’s heritage to Putin with respect to the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. From 1999, there have been direct talks between the two presidents of Armenia and Azerbaijan over the conflict under OSCE leadership. In June 2000, the two Presidents Heidar Aliev and Robert Kocharian met again to talk about the conflict, but it was obvious that domestic opposition was strong in both countries (Diloyan 2000). During a UN General Assembly summit in September the same year, the two presidents met again (Diamond 2000). Early in the next year, Putin made several mediation attempts to move the issue forward (under the slogan ‘without victors or vanquished’) (RFE/RL Newsline 10 January 2001) and promised that Russia would be the guarantor of a peace agreement, but in

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vain (RFE/RL Newsline 21 May 2001).2 At a couple of more or less ‘enforced’ summits between the two presidents (in Paris in March and in Florida in April), there was renewed hope for a time that an agreement would be reached at least on the main terms. This hope turned out to be futile, too, and a new summit was postponed without explanations.3 Negotiations stalled. In fall 2001, the Armenian president Kocharian agreed that the existing OSCE Minsk Group was the ‘most acceptable’ format for mediation efforts since the effectiveness of his recent bilateral meetings with the Azeri president Aliev ‘[was] not high’ (RFE/RL Newsline 23 October 2001). There still was some optimism in late fall 2001 (Khalilova 2001), and Russia officially admitted that mediation was ‘extremely complex’ (RFE/RL Newsline 11 December 2001; Khachatrian 2001c). In early 2002, Putin again offered to mediate a solution and to act as a guarantor of a peace agreement (RFE/RL Newsline 28 January 2002). A solution to the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict at the time seemed to benefit from the post-11 September mood and with the increased US involvement in the Caucasus. In a response to President George W. Bush, Azerbaijan president Aliev appealed to the USA for ‘the quickest, just resolution’ of the conflict, and hoped that Bush’s and Putin’s commitment to find solutions to territorial conflicts in the former USSR also would pay off in the Karabakh conflict (RFE/RL Newsline 29 May 2002). At the eighteenth four-hour summit of the two Caucasus presidents since 1994, no break-through was visible, and Kocharian honestly complained that the ‘process is quite complicated’ (Danielyan 2002b). At later summits with Putin, Aliev asked Russia for help to solve the conflict (despite Russia’s earlier bias toward Armenia) (RFE/RL Newsline 24 September 2002).4 In January 2003, Putin stressed the importance of maintaining balanced relations with Armenia and Azerbaijan and looked for a solution to the Karabakh conflict ‘based on compromise and justice that will suit both countries’ (RFE/RL Newsline 21 January 2003). Not much happened in the first half of 2003, and at the OSCE Minsk Group meeting in September, Aliev seemed increasingly frustrated with the mediators, accusing them of ‘trying to avoid getting involved in a practical resolution of the conflict’ (RFE/RL Newsline 5 September 2003). In November, the Azerbaijani Defence Minister even threatened a new war over Nagorno-Karabakh (RFE/RL Newsline 24 November 2003). In December, the French, Russian and US mediators visited the region and met first with Aliev, then with Kocharian, and later with the president of the unrecognized NagornoKarabakh Republic and arranged a meeting in Geneva between Kocharian and Aliev, where the three proposed a new approach to resolving the conflict. In 2004, Azerbaijan suggested re-starting negotiations from scratch, an idea that Armenia rejected (Danielyan 2004). The Nagorno-Karabakh conflict had now become more internationalized, and in February the European Parliament called for stronger EU involvement to solve the conflict with assistance from Russia and Turkey (RFE/RL Caucasus Report 30 January 2004). Turkey, which had been the closest ally of Azerbaijan, considered re-establishing relations with Armenia while Azerbaijan threatened to withdraw from negotiations. The two presidents managed to settle their differences for the time being, though (Katik

The Nagorno-Karabakh conflict 107 2004). In July, the three mediators of the OSCE Minsk Group met to discuss the conflict, leaving them with different interpretations on whether or not NagornoKarabakh representatives should participate.5 In September, Kocharian and Aliev met for five hours at a CIS summit (Khachatrian 2005a) and in October Azerbaijan demanded a UN General Assembly debate on the Karabakh conflict and on the non-compliance with the four UN Security Council resolutions adopted in 1993. Such a debate was indeed granted; Russia criticized the UN General Assembly for allowing it, believing it to be detrimental to a solution of the conflict (RFE/RL Newsline 4 November 2004). Between March and November 2004, the Armenian and Azeri foreign ministers also held talks in Strasbourg and Prague and reportedly made ‘serious progress’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 November 2004). The Armenian president was pessimistic about the peace process, however, identifying two major obstacles to a negotiated settlement – Azerbaijan’s refusal to acknowledge representatives of Nagorno-Karabakh as a full-fledged party to the conflict, and Azerbaijan’s reluctance to embark on regional cooperation (RFE/RL Newsline 16 November 2004). The Azerbaijan president, in turn, responded that if Armenia wanted Azerbaijan to negotiate with the Nagorno-Karabakh authorities, then it should first ‘withdraw its troops from occupied territory’ and stop subsidizing Nagorno-Karabakh (RFE/RL Newsline 16 November 2004). In December, the Armenian and Azerbaijani foreign ministers met again a couple of times together with the OSCE Minsk Group, and the tone turned somewhat more optimistic, even if they could not unite on a conclusion as to what had been said.6 Nevertheless, in his New Year’s address, Aliev talked of 2004 as ‘a turning point’ in the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict and added that ‘a new stage of the Armenian–Azerbaijani conflict over Nagorno-Karabakh had almost started’ because of the international attention it had received of late. The talks had shifted to a ‘phased’ or ‘stage-by-stage’ approach according to which Armenia was to withdraw from Nagorno-Karabakh (RFE/RL Newsline 5 January 2005). The same tune was played by the Armenian Foreign Minister: ‘We were able to eliminate the obstacles that appeared recently on the way to resumption of the negotiations around the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict’ (Khachatrian 2005a). Although the Armenian and Azeri foreign ministers met several times they did not reach ‘full agreement’ (RFE/RL Newsline 12 January 2005). In general, then, 2004 did bring some new optimism on both sides. In January 2005, the PACE decided to take the Azeri side and called for the withdrawal of troops according to the 1993 UN Security Council resolution and for a conference to resolve the conflict once and for all. The notion was downplayed in Armenia, but hailed in Azerbaijan (Fuller 2005a). In February and March, however, several violations of the cease-fire took place in NagornoKarabakh (causing at least six deaths up to summer 2005). Accusations were thrown from all sides and Armenia believed that Azerbaijan was preparing for an offensive into Nagorno-Karabakh (Kasbarian 2005; Baguirov 2005). In April, the Azeri and Armenian foreign ministers went to London for discussions with the Minsk group one by one (Fuller 2005c; Martirosyan 2005; Gerstle 2005; Danielyan 2005a). In May, presidents Aliev and Kocharian met in Warsaw at a

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Council of Europe summit to discuss the conflict; they agreed on some points, but there were different interpretations on whether or not Armenia should withdraw from the seven districts in Azerbaijan that surrounded Nagorno-Karabakh. It was evident that there was no detailed plan on the table, although discussions had focused on the Armenian withdrawal from occupied Azeri territory bordering on Nagorno-Karabakh.7 In June, the Armenian and Azeri foreign ministers again met with the OSCE Minsk Group and the talks were reportedly ‘constructive’ (RFE/RL Newsline 21 June 2005). Discussions now concerned the return of displaced persons and the return of Azeri territory surrounding Nagorno-Karabakh. Progress thus seemed evident, and in July it was announced that an agreement had been reached according to which Armenia should return five of seven districts surrounding Nagorno-Karabakh (excluding the Larchin corridor) to an international peace force for some 15 years, after which the residents of Nagorno-Karabakh should hold a referendum on independence or on becoming part of Armenia or Azerbaijan. The OSCE Minsk Group met first with Aliev and then with Kocharian to discuss the agreement, and it was obvious that the issue of a referendum was provocative to the Azeris since it implied that NagornoKarabakh could in effect become part of Armenia. Aliev stated that independence of Nagorno-Karabakh could not be a subject for discussion ‘today, tomorrow, in 10 years, or in 100 years’, suggesting that the other alternative (becoming part of Armenia) was even less likely (RFE/RL Newsline 22 July 2005). In August, the tone on both sides deteriorated again, despite some presummit optimism (Abbasov 2005), and OSCE and PACE discussions of the conflict reinforced the feeling that an agreement was imminent. At the same time, armed incidents with fatalities did take place in Nagorno-Karabakh both in July and later in September. In November 2005, after the Azeri elections, Kocharian concluded that the elections had opened an opportunity to solve the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict before the next election cycle (in Armenia in 2007–08) (RFE/RL Newsline 14 November 2005). In Nagorno-Karabakh, doubts about a solution to the conflict were frequent and outspoken. The OSCE also expressed certain optimism that the conflict would be solved during 2006, and also Aliev recognized that the past year had brought some progress to the conflict solution (RFE/RL Newsline 29 December 2005). In 2006, the development remained tumultuous, though. A new meeting between Kocharian and Aliev was planned for, and in January the foreign ministers of Azerbaijan and Armenia met with the OSCE Minsk Group in Paris. Sergey Ivanov met with Aliev to discuss the possibility of Russian peacekeepers in Nagorno-Karabakh after a ‘political-diplomatic’ solution to the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict had been reached, a top priority for Russia, he said (RFE/RL Newsline 25 January 2006). The OSCE Minsk Group believed that 2006 would see a solution to the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict (RFE/RL Newsline 1 February 2006; RFE/RL Newsline 13 March 2006), and the mediators met with Aliev and Kocharian to arrange for a summit.8 The summit of the two presidents failed to give even a joint statement on general principles despite the several hours’ long meeting: positions on some issues were simply too far apart

The Nagorno-Karabakh conflict 109 (RFE/RL Newsline 13 February 2006).9 Putin offered to mediate and invited Kocharian and Aliev separately (RFE/RL Newsline 23 February 2006). In Azerbaijan, demands for war were heard (RFE/RL Newsline 16 February 2006), and there were mutual accusations of cease-fire violations. Pessimism after the failed February summit was obvious (Ismailzade 2006b). Aliev threatened Armenia not to delay peace talks (RFE/RL Newsline 17 March 2006), but he also ruled out territorial concessions (RFE/RL Newsline 22 March 2006). Another attempt to solve the issue was made (at the US–Russian Dartmouth conference) and a new plan was presented, with a phased approach where Nagorno-Karabakh would get an intermediate status. The plan did not predict a referendum. This was followed by Russian talks with Armenia, US talks with Azerbaijan, and EU talks with Nagorno-Karabakh, while the OSCE mediators met with Azeri and Armenian officials, all calling for a new summit. Accusations continued to flow from all sides in the conflict (Muradova and Abbasov 2006). In May, the Armenian and Azeri foreign ministers met again, while military exercises took place in Nagorno-Karabakh. There were renewed EU pressures on Aliev for peace talks, and the two presidents Aliev and Kocharian met again in Budapest with the OSCE Minsk Group, but failed even to give a statement to the press.10 In June, a referendum on a Nagorno-Karabakh constitution was scheduled. Pessimism reigned (Danielyan 2006a). Aliev called the peace process ‘ineffective’ because of Armenia’s ‘unconstructive position’ (RFE/RL Newsline 26 June 2006).11 Armenia accepted to discuss the peace plan (RFE/RL Newsline 12 July 2006). In fall, Azeri groups again called for war (RFE/RL Newsline 26 September 2006). In the UN General Assembly, Armenia criticized Azerbaijan of not being ‘interested in a negotiated peace’ while Azerbaijan criticized Armenia for an ‘unconstructive position’ in the negotiations (RFE/RL Newsline 27 September 2006). Foreign Minister and Defence Minister peace talks resumed in October 2006, and in November there seemed to be some progress, especially since another (sixth) summit between Aliev and Kocharian was arranged by the OSCE mediators as the latest step in the so called Prague process to bring a solution to the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. Again, the parliamentary elections in Armenia in 2007 and presidential elections in both countries in 2008 were seen as major impediments to the process (Fuller 2006g). In conclusion, Putin’s more neutral stand towards the conflicting parties (in comparison to the Yeltsin period) helped to defuse the conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan over Nagorno-Karabakh. This new Russian stand – as a real mediator rather than a party to the conflict – may be a result of the increased US and EU interest in the Caucasus, but also a realization that Russia had nothing to gain from a continued conflict. After all, Putin’s choice is all of Caucasus, not parts of it; better relations with Azerbaijan yield worsened relations with Armenia, and the other way around. Let us now turn to other issues between Russia and the two conflicting states, Armenia and Azerbaijan, and see if, and to what extent Putin has brought a change also in the bilateral relations with Armenia and Azerbaijan.

7

Russia and Azerbaijan

Azerbaijan, a country of some eight million inhabitants, is located at the western shores of the Caspian Sea, bordering on Georgia and Russia (Dagestan) in the north, Armenia in the west and Iran in the south. There is also one Azeri enclave – Nachichevan – located between Armenia and Iran and Turkey and with some 20 million Azeris. Azeris, who speak a Turkish language, have had four different alphabets: Arabic, Latin and Cyrillic alphabet and today a Turkish style Latin alphabet. The Azeris were under Persian vassals at least since 500 BC, they were then conquered by the Romans for some centuries around the birth of Christ and then re-conquered by Persia in the third century. Azeris were then conquered by Arabs and converted to Islam in the seventh century, conquered by Turks in the eleventh century, by Mongols in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, re-conquered by Persia in the sixteenth century. In early to midnineteenth century, Azerbaijan was divided up between Persia and Russia. After the First World War, the chaotic 1918–20 self-determination ended with a Red Army conquest in 1920, and the joining of the USSR within the Transcaucasus Republic in 1922. In 1936, Azerbaijan became a Soviet Republic. Azerbaijan’s greatest assets have been oil production (since late nineteenth century), and even today, Azerbaijan relies on its oil and gas resources in two offshore fields (Pamir 2004: 125). Even before self-determination in fall 1991, there were serious civil disturbances in Azerbaijan. The president elected in 1992 fled the country in 1993 and Heidar Aliev asserted the presidency. The defeat of the Azeri troops in NagornoKarabakh made a heavy imprint in the years that followed. Nevertheless, in 1997, Russia and Azerbaijan signed a Treaty of Friendship, Cooperation and Security (see Black 2004: 228). Aliev was re-elected in 1998, and again, after constitutional amendments in 2002, he first opted for a third term, and then virtually handed the presidency over to his son Ilham Aliev in October 2003. Russia–Azerbaijan relations have been rather tense since 1992 because of Russia’s biased support of Armenia in the Nagorno-Karabakh war and because of joint Russian–Armenian military exercises and Russian military assistance to Armenia.1 Chechnya has also figured occasionally in the relationship but not at all as serious as in the Russian–Georgian relationship. Furthermore, since Azerbaijan still is a major centre for both oil production and a pipeline hub, almost

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everything that concerns oil and gas in and around the Caspian Sea has coloured also Russian–Azeri relations. Some 90 per cent of Azerbaijan’s export income refers to oil, but the export has been hampered by the fact that one pipeline, via Chechnya to Novorossiisk at the Russian Black Sea coast, has been very insecure (to put it mildly), and the other to Supsa on the Georgian Black Sea coast has been altogether inadequate. In 1999, the US-supported Baku–Tbilisi– Ceyhan pipeline was projected to alleviate the export problem. Russia–Azeri relations improved considerably with Putin’s high-profile visit to Azerbaijan in January 2001, most evident in the Azeri President Heidar Aliev exclamation that ‘we have reached mutual agreement on all the questions we have discussed, and this gives me great satisfaction’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 January 2001) and Putin’s comment that relations had taken a step ‘towards a new phase’ (‘Putin’s Baku . . .’ 2001). The two presidents signed a ‘Baku Declaration’ which outlined the expansion of bilateral political, economic and especially military relations over the next decade (RFE/RL Caucasus Report 11 January 2001). This was truly a change (Black 2004: 236–237). Aliev mused, saying that ‘Russia has definitely begun paying more attention to the Caucasus and is trying to be as objective and correct as possible’ (RFE/RL Newsline 23 January 2001), and half a year later Putin reflected on the relationship in the same vein (RFE/RL Newsline 19 October 2001). In January 2002, both presidents praised the development of their bilateral relations (RFE/RL Newsline 30 January 2002; Sochetqizi 2002), and in September the same year, Putin expressed satisfaction that relations ‘have been developing so intensively of late’ (RFE/RL Newsline 24 September 2002; Putin 23 September 2002). Aliev now regarded Russia ‘a strategic partner’. Even more important, Aliev expressed ‘full support for Russia’s struggle against international terrorism on [its] national territory’ (RFE/RL Newsline 25 September 2002). One of the more interesting developments in the Russian–Azerbaijani relationship was the handling of issues related to Chechnya. One might have expected the religious and cultural affiliation of Chechnya and Azerbaijan to play some role, but the bilateral relationship was never even close to being reduced to these parameters.2 The somewhat uncertain policy stand changed after relations had improved in spring 2001, and from this time on many of the estimated 8,000 Chechens were indeed extradited to Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 28 March 2001). Despite this, after 11 September, Russia was not satisfied with the fact that Chechen refugees were allowed to stay in Azerbaijan at all, and Russia demanded extraditions of all Chechen refugees. In spring 2002, further anti-Chechen measures were taken by Azerbaijani authorities to the delight of Russia.3 After the Beslan tragedy in September 2004, Russia tightened border control and imposed restrictions on movements from Azerbaijan and Georgia for more than a month, and in May 2005 there were also some accusations that Azerbaijan harboured Chechen rebels, but generally speaking, there have been no serious spill-overs from the second Chechnya war in the relationship. Down-to-earth military cooperation soon followed from the general improvement in 2001 and the similarity of views with respect to ‘terrorism’ in the

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Caucasus.4 After 11 September, in 2002, the issue of the strategically important Gabala radar facility in central Azerbaijan was settled: Russia would lease it for ten more years.5 The Caspian Sea joint naval exercises in 2002 were also praised in both countries. In spring 2003, a military cooperation agreement was signed, paving the way for ‘large-scale cooperation’, (RFE/RL Newsline 28 February 2003; Ismailzade 2003). In April, the two countries signed a border cooperation agreement, and in September Aliev said that ‘our task is to ensure that the relations . . . develop like [those of] strategic partners’ (RFE/RL Newsline 17 September 2003; Nezavisimaia Gazeta 29 September 2003, p. 12). In October then Prime Minister Ilham Aliev assured that ‘relations with Russia remain our top priority’ (RFE/RL Newsline 9 October 2003). In December, after President Heidar Aliev died and was replaced by his son, the Prime Minister Ilham Aliev, nothing essential was changed, rather the contrary. In January 2004, a ‘Moscow Declaration’ was signed by Aliev and Putin, reaffirming the commitments undertaken in the 1997 Friendship and Cooperation Treaty and the Baku Declaration signed three years earlier. The declaration reaffirmed the commitment to cooperate in the fight against terrorism and to refrain from any military, economic or financial measures directed against the other.6 The next month, in February the same year, the new Azeri president signed a military cooperation agreement with Putin, according to which Russia would supply Azerbaijan with badly needed military spare parts and expand training for Azerbaijani officers at Russian military academies. Further military cooperation was announced in fall 2006 (RFE/RL Newsline 9 August 2006) which strangely enough did not seem to worry Armenia. After the breakthrough in relations in January 2001, also trade and economic cooperation between Russia and Azerbaijan took a turn for the better. In December 2001, several agreements were signed (Sohbetqizi 2002). In both 2002 and 2003 there were discussions of increased oil transit volumes via the Baku–Novorossiisk oil pipeline, but no definite agreements were made. In March 2004, Anatoly Chubais, the head of Russia’s Unified Energy Systems (UES) signed a memorandum on linking the power grids of the two countries and in December an agreement that paved the way for an exchange of electric power between Russia, Azerbaijan and Iran was signed. Trade between Russia and Azerbaijan increased by 50 per cent in 2004, and in 2005 trade was up to US$1 billion (RFE/RL Newsline 22 February 2006). In February 2006, Putin made a state visit to Baku to inaugurate the ‘Year of Russia’ in Azerbaijan and emphasized the ‘closely linked . . . destinies’ of the two countries (Putin speech 21 February 2006). Late in 2006, oil exploration agreements were signed. There are no serious politico-cultural problems in the relationship, although the Azeri language is the only official language (in the constitution) and Azerbaijan adopted the Latin script in 2001. In 2003, there were some discussions about the role of the Russian language since a large majority of the Azeris (including those living abroad) speak Russian (Peucht 2003).

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In 2005, another development brought, quite unexpectedly, Azerbaijan closer to Russia: the ‘war of election norms’. In Azerbaijan, the November 2005 parliamentary elections had an unusually long and violent foreplay. Leading opposition newspapers were subjected to high fines and harassment. Both the EU and the United States criticized the Azeri authorities for its behaviour, and the Council of Europe and the OSCE urged for amendments to the election law (Fuller 2005h).7 The frequent public demonstrations were met with violence and several demonstrators were arrested and freed only after international pressure (Fuller 2005f). The Azeri authorities even accused the opposition of planning a coup d’état, causing the EU to warn Azerbaijan of exclusion from the European Neighbourhood Policy talks (RFE/RL Newsline 5 August and 7 October 2005). After the election, the OSCE and Council of Europe monitors all concluded that the elections ‘did not meet a number of OSCE commitments and Council of Europe standards for democratic elections’ (RFE/RL Newsline 7 November 2005). Russia, on the other hand, downplayed the irregularities: ‘[t]he elections on the whole were held in accordance with the acting Azerbaijani legislation. There were violations. There are always violations in elections. They were registered by Russian observers as well. However, the scale of the violations does not call for questioning the legitimacy of the election results’ (RFE/RL Newsline 9 November 2005; Sultanova 2005a). Post-election demonstrations followed with tactics, borrowed from other ‘colour revolutions’, some with as many as 20,000 participants, but there never was any real threat to the authorities (Ingram 2005b; Wall 2005; Sultanova 2005b). This Russian support of the Azeri elections shows, in a nutshell, the conflict over election norms between the West and Eurasia, used by Russia to keep Azerbaijan within its orbit. Russia’s profile in the election was fairly low, probably because there never was any serious threat to the party in power. In conclusion, the Russian–Azeri relationship took a turn for the better as a result of Putin’s very conscious attempt to improve bilateral relations with Azerbaijan in his second year as president. The improvement showed first of all in the politico-military arena, where the Chechnya war could indeed have worsened rather than improved relations. The fact that Russia has begun to treat all three Caucasus states more on an equal economic basis has benefited Azerbaijan the most. The two states also hold similar views on the common use of the Caspian Sea (to be dealt with in a separate chapter below). Among the few existing irritants, the closer Azeri relations to the EU and NATO are the most obvious. In general terms, though, the Russian–Azerbaijan relationship has improved considerably under Putin, and with no serious repercussions in the Russian–Armenian relationship.

8

Russia and Armenia

Armenia has been Russia’s main ally in the Caucasus since the break-up of the USSR. Armenia’s geographical location between Georgia in the north, Azerbaijan in the east and Iran in the south and a traditionally hostile Turkey in the west suggests a land-locked enclave in an unfriendly environment, extremely vulnerable. Armenia is a very old country, and at its largest, in the first century BC, Armenia reached from the Mediterranean to the Caspian Sea. It was later conquered by the Romans and Persians, and came under the Muslim yoke in the seventh century, was a free semi-state between the ninth and eleventh centuries, then crushed by the Turks, and divided up between the Ottomans and Persians in the seventeenth century. Armenians already then took refuge in the Russian hug and largely welcomed the Russian partial conquest in the early nineteenth century. In the aftermath of the First World War, Armenia proclaimed its independence, fought wars with Georgians and Azeris, was conquered by the Red Army in late 1920 and forced into the USSR in 1922 as part of the larger Transcaucasian Republic. The small population of some three million inhabitants and the large exile groups in the west (some 2.5 million) and in Russia/CIS (some 1.5 million) constitutes telling evidence of the problems in Armenia. Apart from Russia, Armenia’s other ally in the region is Iran (which fears the large minority of Azerbaijanis living on the Iranian side of Nachichevan to the south of Armenia. In the Soviet era, Armenia had many military–technological facilities which have only partly survived the break-up of the USSR. Despite Armenia’s weakness, it was the Armenians in Nagorno-Karabakh that set out to leave Azerbaijan and thus was the immediate cause of the Nagorno-Karabakh war. Below, I briefly present some bilateral issues in the Russian–Armenian relationship that have not been directly related to the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. Generally speaking, the Russian–Armenian relationship has not changed very much under Putin. Throughout the 1990s, Russian–Armenian military relations were close (Blagov 2004e). In 1997, Yeltsin signed a Treaty of Friendship, Cooperation and Security with ‘substantial military cooperative contents’ (Black 2004: 228). In 2000, Armenia allowed Russian troops to stay in Armenia until 2025. Verbal indicators of the positive relationship include the designation of being ‘strategic partners’. In signing a ‘Declaration on Cooperation in the

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twenty-first century’ in fall 2000, Putin referred to Armenia as Russia’s ‘traditional ally’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 September 2000), and in spring 2001, Russia was claimed to be the chief guarantor of Armenia’s national security (RFE/RL Newsline 26 April 2001). September 11 made the positive Russian–Armenian relationship even more pronounced. In spring 2002, several Russian government officials noted that Armenia ‘was and will be Russia’s only strategic partner in the south Caucasus’ (RFE/RL Newsline 30 May 2002). Despite being the strongest military power of the three south Caucasian states, Armenia had to ask for Russian arms supplies, threatened as it was also by the increased Turkish defence cooperation with Georgia and Azerbaijan (Danielyan 2002a). In January 2003, the Armenian President Robert Kocharian called the relationship ‘close to ideal’ (RFE/RL Newsline 21 January 2003), and characterized Russia’s presence in Armenia a ‘strong stabilizing factor’ (Blagov 2003b; Blagov 2003e). Putin also referred to a strategic partnership (Putin speech 6 October 2003). Other indicators of the very special relationship include military cooperation and assistance in guarding Armenia’s southern border to Iran and Turkey. There were more than forty bilateral accords on military cooperation signed already before Putin came to power, and still more agreements followed after 11 September. In spring 2001, the two countries created a joint military unit that would ‘play a large part in ensuring security’ in the south Caucasus, but with ‘no aggressive aims’, and joint air patrols also began (RFE/RL Newsline 17 April 2001). Since 1996, Russia also has a military base in Armenia (free of charge), further strengthened when the joint military unit was set up; a new Russian military base was also considered (as a compensation for the Russian bases to be closed in Georgia). In early 2003, a new military–technical agreement was signed and Kocharian described the Russian military presence as ‘a stabilizing factor’ and considered new Russian bases in Armenia not to ‘significantly’ change the balance of forces in the region (RFE/RL Newsline 17 January 2003). In November, new agreements designated the 3,000-man Russian military facilities in northern Armenia to be merged into one military base, and according to another agreement, Russia was to supply Armenia with weaponry of ‘a purely defensive nature’ (RFE/RL Newsline 13 November 2003). Joint military exercises with the local Russian forces have been annual events in Putin’s reign, the most interesting aspect of which is their traditional character (defending territory against an invader and not anti-terrorism exercises as in most other CIS countries). In August 2002, joint exercises were seen as a counter-offensive against an invading army. In September 2003, the joint military exercises included tanks, artillery and aircraft. In August 2004, military exercises included also helicopter gunships. In October 2005, after the annual Russian–Armenian military exercises, Russia and Armenia were said to be ‘the closest allies’ among the CSTO countries (RFE/RL Newsline 24 October 2005). In January 2006, Sergey Ivanov promised to continue to hold military exercises in Armenia and train Armenian officers, and to transfer material from the Russian bases in Georgia to Armenia (RFE/RL Newsline 27 January 2006). The main changes in the relationship under Putin are found in the economic

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sphere. Armenia’s economic problems have been plentiful. In 1991, the economy was in a shambles and the Nagorno-Karabakh war drained the economy further. Only in the late 1990s did the economy recover somewhat, but the damage was already done. Iran and Russia were the main helpers in the Armenian economic plight. The most persistent problem was the Armenian debt to Russia, and an ‘asset-for-debt’ agreement surfaced in Putin’s early years. In fall 2001 and spring 2002, principal agreement on which (five) state-owned Armenian enterprises should be included in an agreement to repay the US$100 million debt to Russia was reached. The largest thermal power plant in Armenia – the Hrazdan thermal power plant – and some military-industrial plants were included. It took some time to hammer out the details of the payments, though, and only in November 2002 had the details fallen into place and the ‘debt-forassets’ arrangement was signed by Kocharian and Putin. In January 2003, at another summit between Putin and Kocharian, it was noted that economic cooperation with Russia had not yet reached the same level as the political and military cooperation (although Russia was the single largest investor in Armenia). Many economic agreements were signed to raise the trade level, and at another summit between Putin and Kocharian later in the year, the two reviewed implementation plans. In May, Russian investors announced their purchase of control of Armenia’s largest chemical plant (a leading strategic industrial assets during the Soviet era), which had recently been declared bankrupt (US$27 million in overdue debts) as the latest in a series of Russian purchases of Armenia’s strategic assets after the more controversial US$100 million ‘debt-for-assets’ arrangement in November 2002. The general Russian strategy with respect to the Armenian debt was to take control of the Armenian energy sector.1 These attempts became evident in 2003. After several months of negotiations on payments for nuclear fuel to restart the Armenian Medzamor nuclear power plant, agreements were reached.2 Kocharian seemed to agree to hand over the financial management of the plant to the Russian Unified Energy Systems (UES) in order to pay off the US$32 million debt to the Russian nuclear fuel supplier (and cover the purchase of another US$8 million worth of nuclear fuel). In September 2003, the management of the Medzamor nuclear power station was transferred to the UES for a five-year period.3 In 2003 it was also announced that the ownership of six hydroelectric power plants on the Hrazdan River (which generated approximately 15 per cent of Armenia’s energy) would be transferred to Russia as additional payment for the nuclear fuel. In late 2003, a more drastic attempt to solve the debt problem took place when another ‘assets-for-debts’ agreement was signed, according to which Russia acquired three Armenian research institutes, a thermal power plant and an electronics plant.4 The Armenian energy sector was in most respects under Russian control by now (Iksyan 2004). In May 2004, Putin hailed the Russian purchase of a chemistry plant and the fact that a Russian bank was established in Armenia (Putin 14 May 2004). In August it was announced that Russia would acquire the Hrazdan Thermal Power Plant (Armenia’s largest) and planned to use it to produce electricity for export

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to Turkey. Russia would write off some US$65 million in Armenian debts in exchange for the plant. By now, the World Bank warned Armenia to sell more of its assets to Russia: the Russian UES had by now acquired control of 80 per cent of Armenia’s power-generating capacity through a series of assets-for-debt agreements to repay Armenia’s total US$100 million debt (RFE/RL Newsline 24 August 2004). The extent to which Armenia needed foreign energy resources is seen in the fact that Iran was eager to help. In May 2004, Armenia and Iran signed an agreement on the construction of a new gas pipeline linking the existing net, and in July Iran began to build its 100-kilometre section of the planned 140-kilometre pipeline. In November, the construction of the natural gas pipeline began in southern Armenia. The extent to which things had changed in the Russia–Armenian relationship (to market orientation) became evident to Armenia in late 2005 when Russia in its general attempt to raise export gas prices for 2006 did not exclude Armenia. The price was to be raised from US$56 per thousand cubic metres in 2005 to US$110 from January 2006, i.e. the same price as for Georgia (but cheaper than for Moldova and Ukraine). Ironically, at the same time, Putin hailed the conclusion of the ‘Year of Russia’ in Armenia (Putin 16 December 2005). In January 2006, Gazprom agreed to postpone gas price increases for Armenia to April (RFE/RL Newsline 17 January 2006), and Kocharian went to see Putin in Moscow on the gas pricing but failed to reach an agreement (RFE/RL Newsline 24 January 2006). Gas price negotiations continued, and in April Gazprom acquired the fifth power unit of Hrazdan Thermal Power Plant (of which it owned the other four already) in a comprehensive deal where Gazprom would sell gas worth US$250 million in return (which was a 10 per cent price increase). By now, the Russian UES had acquired complete control over the Armenian electricity distribution network. Also in spring 2006, the Armenian–Iranian gas pipeline was under construction as a main component of Armenian energy security, and there was also an Armenian–Iranian agreement on electricity grids and power stations. In fall 2006, Armenia, Iran and Georgia agreed on energy cooperation and a second Iranian gas pipeline to Armenia and Georgia was discussed. There were also some other economic problems in the relationship. In August 2004, there was a crisis in the strategic Armenian diamond-cutting business, which had sharply decreased in the first half of the year after a tenfold production increase since 1998. Kocharian attributed it to the decreased Russian export of uncut diamonds to Armenia, while Putin attributed the decline in bilateral trade in 2003 to the (temporary) closure of an aluminium plant in Erevan (owned by Russia’s Rusal) (RFE/RL Newsline 23 August 2004). There were also some trade difficulties, and in August 2004, Putin complained about the long transport routes (Putin press conference 20 August 2004). Then, after the Beslan catastrophe, Russia closed for some time a bordercrossing with Georgia (and re-opened it in October) – the mountainous Verkhny

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Lars border-crossing point – before it allowed freight traffic to resume to Armenia.5 Russia tried generally to persuade Georgia and Azerbaijan to agree to open the transport corridors between Russia and Armenia, and also criticized Georgia for not allowing rail traffic from Russia via Abkhazia. Attempts to solve the transport issue failed since Georgia insisted that the restoration of rail traffic via Abkhazia and Tbilisi to Armenia had to await a solution to the Abkhaz conflict. Azerbaijan was not to open its border to Armenia (which had been closed since 1992) and had forced all exports and imports to be by road or air. In January and October, Russia and Georgia signed agreements on ferry and rail traffic from Russia, which would also greatly improve the transport situation for Armenia. In March 2005, Putin opened the ‘Year of Russia’ in Armenia and discussed the asset-for-debt agreement with Kocharian. The Armenian domestic brawl on the Russian investments (according to the November 2002 agreement) continued, however, since Armenia was ‘not satisfied’ with the low Russian investment rates. Putin and Kocharian again met in June 2005 at a CIS summit and discussed the Russian investments. Also in 2005 and then in 2006, the acquisition by the UES of the Armenia Energy Network caused a problem in the relationship. The acquisition of the management rights had been upheld because Armenian government approval was necessary, which it gave only in October (Danielyan 2006b). In October 2006, Putin complained about the low rate of Russian investments in Armenia (Putin meeting 30 October 2006). In conclusion, there have been some changes in Russia’s relations with Armenia since Putin came to power, first in the ‘economization’ of the relationship, but also increased military cooperation. Not that the traditionally close relationship itself has deteriorated, but it has definitely changed in the economic sphere. At the same time, the closer Russian relationship with Azerbaijan did not seem to inflict damage on the Russia–Armenian relationship. Security and defence cooperation has not diminished, rather the opposite, but on the other hand, the Sovietstyle debt build-up was broken by the ‘debt-for-asset’ arrangements, which basically meant that Russian state-controlled companies acquired energy production resources in Armenia. The Armenian energy dependency on Russia has thus in a formal sense shifted from lenient state debt collectors to private Russian companies. Price increases on energy followed and the economic relationship is today basically formed on a more ‘normal’ state-to-state economic foundation than in the Yeltsin years. Of late, Armenia has also been forced to accept higher gas prices and has tried to improve its energy security by importing gas from Iran.

9

Russia and Georgia

9.1 Introduction and general developments Georgia with its five million inhabitants (two thirds of which are Georgians) borders in the north to Russia (Kabardino-Balkaria, North Ossetia, Chechnya and Dagestan) and in the south to Turkey, Armenia and Azerbaijan. Georgia is very old, and it has an alphabet of its own (since the fifth century). Georgia was split up in the sixth century, united in the twelfth century, conquered by the Mongols in the thirteenth century, then falling apart and dominated by Turkey and Persia. Georgian princes sought Russian protection and Russia occupied Georgia in the first half of the nineteenth century. The Caucasus has been both a battlefield (between Persia and Turkey) and a buffer zone (Jackson 2003: 116). Self-determination was regained in 1918, ending with the invasion by the Red Army in 1921, and joining Armenia and Azerbaijan in the Transcaucasus Republic of the USSR in 1922, becoming a Soviet Republic in 1936. From the very outset of the Yeltsin reign, in 1992, Georgia became Russia’s greatest strategic and foreign policy problem in the Caucasus (Jackson 2003: 119). The basic reason was Abkhazia at the eastern shores of the Black Sea, where armed clashes had broken out already in 1989 (and including Soviet forces). In 1990, Abkhazia opted for independence and chose its own president after Zviad Gamsakhurdia had been chosen president of Georgia. In December 1991, armed clashes broke out in Tbilisi, Gamsakhurdia fled the capital and Shevardnadze took over in the interim. Russian forces stayed in Georgia to avoid a ‘security vacuum’, and saved Georgia’s government (Jackson 2003: 120, 136). In 1992, the Abkhaz secessionist policies soon developed into a civil war that lasted for two years. Several hundred thousand ethnic and Christian Georgians were chased away by ethnic (Muslim) Abkhazians, creating a huge refugee problem. The Georgian regular army was also chased out of Abkhazia by late 1993 with large casualties (around 10,000). Russian forces stationed in Abkhazia were not altogether neutral in the conflict, siding with Abkhazian forces. Despite this, the new Georgian President Eduard Shevardnadze had to ask Russia for assistance in stabilizing Abkhazia and established a demilitarized zone between Georgian and Abkhazian forces (Jackson 2003: 136). From 1993, Russia refused to support Abkhaz independence and in 1997 actually forced

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negotiations upon the parties in the conflict. A cease-fire agreement was drafted in 1998 but never signed, and in 1999 a referendum on Abkhazian independence received a large majority vote (of those remaining in Abkhazia). This was the ‘frozen conflict’ that Putin inherited.1 Another region of Georgia, South Ossetia was also marred by a secessionist war after Tbilisi had revoked its autonomous status in 1990 and responded militarily. In 1992, the population of South Ossetia voted in favour of joining (Muslim) North Ossetia and thus the Russian Federation.2 Georgian attempts to restore its jurisdiction together with armed rebellion by ethnic Georgians in South Ossetia were crushed by North Ossetian and other Russian troops (with some 1,500 casualties), after which an agreement to deploy Russian peacekeepers in the conflict zone was signed. Although there have been some armed skirmishes also later (e.g. in 1995) the region has largely been ridden of violent excesses. Russian troops have remained in the region (like in Abkhazia); the conflict itself is thus ‘frozen’. A third Caucasian melting-pot problem is an offspring of the two Chechnya wars (in 1994–96 and from 1999 and onwards), a problem that stems from the perforated borders of the former Soviet Union. Chechen warriors have been able fairly easily to cross the Russian/Chechen border to Georgia where there is a Chechen residual population. Even today, after seven years of fighting, the borders remain porous, and occasional armed clashes occur in border areas. This conflict between Chechen warriors and Russian forces is all but ‘frozen’. In addition to these ethnicity-based conflicts (to be treated separately below), there is also a somewhat unrelated issue of the four Russian military bases on Georgian territory remaining since the Soviet era. The issue was nominally solved only in the OSCE November 1999 Istanbul summit when Yeltsin agreed to withdraw the Russian bases. Putin had other plans, however. Generally speaking, in the Yeltsin years, and as a result of the state weakness of Georgia, Russia has been able to reasonably influence Georgian developments. The Russia–Georgian relationship is one of the very few bilateral relationships that have deteriorated since Putin entered the Kremlin. The second Chechnya war from fall 1999 immediately spilled over into the relationship and developed into serious confrontation in the aftermath of 11 September. Regarding the CIS, Georgia was pressured by Russia to join the CIS, including its Collective Security Treaty, in 1993 in connection with the serious domestic strife in Georgia proper and the civil war in Abkhazia (Lynch 2000: 139). Domestic Georgian demands to leave the CIS have been frequent ever since, although President Shevardnadze himself has rejected that option. Tensions with the CIS have remained also under Putin. New discussions on a friendship treaty providing for extensive political, military and economic cooperation to supersede the 1994 treaty (which never was ratified by the Georgian Parliament) also began, and in summer 2001 ‘a major bilateral framework treaty’ was just about to be signed (RFE/RL Newsline 27 July 2001). The tensions provided by developments on the Chechen–Georgian border

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and in Abkhazia could not but negatively affect the negotiations, especially since the post-11 September anti-terrorist struggle offered fresh ammunition: rather than uniting Russia and Georgia, both sides used the ‘other’s’ terrorism to support their own standpoints. After 11 September, Georgia accused Russia of taking advantage of the world situation to further its own interests, while Putin affirmed that Georgia constituted a ‘weak link’ in the struggle against international terrorism since Chechen fighters could retreat to Georgian territory for training and build-up (RFE/RL Newsline 13 November 2001).3 Formal negotiations on a treaty were halted in June 2002 and a summit in January 2003 between Shevardnadze and Putin was characterized by the latter as ‘productive’ and ‘useful’, while Shevardnadze noted that there were still ‘some unresolved issues’ in bilateral relations (RFE/RL Newsline 29 January 2003). The chill was obvious. The intensified Georgian–US cooperation was an additional irritant in the Russia–Georgian relationship. Formal talks on a new framework treaty were resumed in May 2003, but in August Russia left the negotiation table angered by continued protests outside its embassy in Tbilisi. The Georgian parliamentary elections in November 2003 showed some unexpected sides of Putin, and Russia’s role in the revolutionary events is worth recalling for that reason. Two typical election problems caused disarray (in Georgia as elsewhere in the former Soviet Union): the issue of forged voting lists and the use of government funds to support the government’s candidate. Shevardnadze called the election ‘the fairest and most transparent election ever held in Georgia’ while OSCE and Council of Europe observations described the voting as falling short of many international standards (RFE/RL Newsline 3 November 2003). Thousands of demonstrators immediately took to the streets to protest the vote count, and the major opponent Mikhail Saakashvili threatened Shevardnadze with ‘a revolution’. The tensions foreboded clashes, especially since the Ajar leader Aslan Abashidze – a regional clan-head – sent his supporters to ‘maintain constitutional order’ (RFE/RL Newsline 7 November 2003). Mass demonstrations continued, despite some meetings between Shevardnadze and the opposition, Saakashvili, Nino Burdjanadze and Zurab Zhvania (Dzhindzhikhashvili 2003a; Arnold 2003; RFE/RL Caucasus Report 12 November 2003). After two weeks of demonstrations and during violent clashes in southern Georgia, Shevardnadze talked to Putin on the situation, without any solution. When the Central Election Commission – CEC – finally announced the results of the election after three weeks of counting exercises, the Shevardnadze–Abashidze bloc was given a total of 123 of the 235 seats, which the opposition refused to accept. When some 30,000 Saakashvili supporters assembled around the government and parliament buildings and parliament deputies were assaulted, Shevardnadze declared a state of emergency. The Russian Foreign Minister Igor Ivanov now went to Tbilisi and met both with opposition leaders and then with Shevardnadze. After a brief meeting, Shevardnadze decided to resign.4 This was the ‘rose revolution’. Russia’s role was restricted to formal mediation, but Saakashvili nevertheless

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praised Ivanov’s role, somewhat surprised, it seems: ‘I simply did not expect it of him. He just arrived and turned the whole situation around, appearing at a meeting of the opposition and expressing support for us’ (RFE/RL Newsline 25 November 2003). Burdjanadze later met with Putin, Igor Ivanov and Sergey Ivanov and the talks were described as open, sincere and a step toward overcoming mutual hostility (RFE/RL Newsline 29 December 2003). In conclusion, Russia actually assisted in avoiding a new dangerous civil war in Georgia. New presidential and parliamentary elections were to be held in January and March respectively, and conditions for better Russian–Georgian relations seemed fairly good (Torbakov 2004a; Cohen 2004). Upon inauguration, Saakashvili swore to restore Georgia’s territorial integrity, to establish control over Abkhazia and South Ossetia. In February, Saakashvili went to Moscow, where he blamed both the previous Georgian leadership and Russia for the present bad state of relations. After meeting with Putin, he said that Georgia’s history was linked with that of ‘the great Russia’, and Putin referred to ‘very positive signals oriented toward reviving relations between Georgia and Russia’ (RFE/RL Newsline 11 February 2004). The two leaders agreed to resume talks on Abkhazia, on the return of displaced persons, and on energy supplies. The situation thus seemed to have turned all for the better, although Russia was still uncertain about the basic orientation of Georgia (Saradzhyan 2004a, 2004b; Peucht 2004a; Blagov 2004a). Russia was waiting to see where the new leadership would go (Torbakov 2004c, 2004d). There were more surprises in store with respect to Russian behaviour when the new Georgian president began to assert his powers. Russia now supported the new Georgian leadership in its attempt to subjugate the Ajarian leader Aslan Abashidze (who had ruled Ajaria, a small region bordering on Turkey, as his own feudal estate since 1991 and was a supporter of Shevardnadze). Abashidze refused to allow presidential and parliamentary elections to take place in Ajaria and declared a state of emergency; talks with the new Georgian Prime Minister failed to yield any results. Only when then acting President Burdjanadze went to Moscow for talks with Putin did Abashidze give in to the demand for elections. The conflict deepened when an opposition Ajaria movement was created with the explicit aim of replacing Abashidze, and street fighting began in Batumi. In March, Saakashvili was stopped from entering Ajaria, and when he took counter measures, Ajar militia forces closed the internal border to Georgia proper for a time, but after a stand-off Abashidze gave in (Beridze 2004; van der Schriek 2004a; Felgenhauer 2004b; Dzhindzhikashvili 2004a, 2004b; Heintz 2004; Saradzhyan 2004c; Ostrovsky 2004a, 2004b; RFE/RL Caucasus Report 19 March 2004). After the parliamentary elections, however, Saakashvili declared that all ‘illegal armed groups’, including those in Ajaria, should disarm. One Georgian general took the side of Abashidze and Saakashvili issued an ultimatum for Abashidze to step down. Georgian military exercises began close to Ajaria, and Abashidze troops blew up two border bridges. The situation was dangerous (Devdariani 2004a; Melnichuk 2004; Blua 2004; Chkikvishvili 2004). In Batumi (the capital of Ajaria) itself, the police used violence to disperse some 15,000

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opposition demonstrators who ignored Abashidze’s curfew and remained encamped on the streets overnight, with many local police joining the demonstrators (Gendzekhadze 2004). At this juncture, Putin sent his national security adviser (and former foreign minister) Igor Ivanov to offer Abashidze a safe haven in Moscow, which was accepted. Abashidze flew with Ivanov to Moscow, and Saakashvili imposed presidential rule in Ajaria (Blagov 2004b, 2004f; Gendzhekhadze 2004; Medetsky 2004a; Arnold 2004b). Once again, mass demonstrations had threatened a new civil war on Georgian territory, and Russian involvement contributed to a peaceful solution. Russian–Georgian relations seemed to be moving in a positive direction and confidence was high on both sides. The Russian assistance to the new Georgian leadership in its first showdown with regional chieftains did not pass unnoticed in Abkhazia and South Ossetia, of course. The positive atmosphere in Russian–Georgian relations largely continued in high-level meetings in 2004, despite problems on specific issues. In May, Igor Ivanov assured that Russia wanted ‘stable and friendly’ relations and wanted to see swift solutions to the many bilateral problems (RFE/RL Newsline 25 May 2004). In July, renewed talks on a framework treaty ended inconclusively, since ‘certain controversies persist’ with respect to certain ‘defence and security’ provisions. In effect, Russia continued to insist on a clause prohibiting the deployment of any foreign military forces within Georgia (RFE/RL Newsline 19 July 2004). In September, Saakashvili met with Putin and held talks that were noted as ‘frank and productive’, heralding a new stage in bilateral relations (RFE/RL Newsline 20 September 2004). The permanent low-intensity conflicts in Abkhazia and South Ossetia deteriorated in 2004 after the new Georgian president Saakashvili decided to unite all of Georgia, which in turn inevitably drew Russia deeper into the separatist conflicts. In addition, the spectre of US civil and military involvement in Georgia fanned Russian oral fires further still. In fall 2004, in connection with Saakashvili’s attempts to subjugate Abkhazia and South Ossetia (treated in separate chapters below), the tone in the bilateral relationship changed. While Lavrov warned against solving problems by force, Burdjanadze accused Russia of ‘double standards’ when it was fuelling separatism in Abkhazia and South Ossetia by offering Russian citizenship to the inhabitants (RFE/RL Newsline 2 November 2004). Negotiations on a new framework treaty were postponed for spring 2005. In December 2004, Saakashvili accused Russia of seeking to ‘destroy and enslave Georgia’ and to ‘explode the domestic political situation’, and accused unnamed ‘neo-imperialist’ forces in Russia to try to resolve Russia’s own problems by ‘bringing Georgia to its knees’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 December 2004). The tone had changed for the worse. In February 2005, new talks on the Framework Treaty failed due to disagreement over Georgia’s right to ‘strategic partnership’ and military cooperation with third countries, or in practice, Georgia’s right to host foreign military bases on its territory. Several working groups were set up, though, to report to Saakashvili and Putin within two months.5 Nothing came out of a possible

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summit in Moscow to sign the treaty, though (Saradzhyan 2005a). Despite the agreement on the withdrawal of the remaining Russian bases in Georgia in May (also to be treated below), the temperature rose again in September 2005 with new Georgian accusations of Russian support of separatist movements in Georgia. In October, a government business commission and a business forum were both cancelled as a consequence of demands by the Georgian Parliament that Russian peacekeepers withdraw from Abkhazia and South Ossetia. By early 2006, the relationship again turned extremely tense, and there did not seem to be any easy way out of the situation with the separatist republics, despite prospects on other issues. A new framework treaty was stalled by Russia and could be signed only after relations had been ‘normalized’ and the current ‘anti-Russian campaign’ ended (RFE/RL Newsline 4 January 2006). A gas pipeline from Russia caused a crisis in early winter, and in February Russia stopped issuing visas to Georgians. Putin accused Georgia of searching ‘external enemies’ to divert attention from its domestic problems, while Saakashvili accused Russia of air intrusions (RFE/RL Newsline 23 February 2006; Torbakov 2006a). In March, a Russian ‘wine ban’ was seen as punishment for Georgian ‘bad behaviour’, which Saakashvili called ‘political’ acts (as he also did when Georgian mineral waters were banned in April and May) (RFE/RL Newsline 31 March 2006 and RFE/RL Newsline 20 April 2006; Corso 2006a). Georgia did, however, take some police actions on wine producers. Despite the ‘trade war’, several hours of talks between Putin and Saakashvili at the G8 meeting in St Petersburg in June 2006 seemed to somewhat clear the air – Saakashvili considered the talks ‘useful, sincere’ (RFE/RL Newsline 14 June 2006). Worse was to come, though, in a crisis that developed very fast in the wrong direction when four Russian military officers were arrested and accused of spying. Both Sergey Ivanov and Lavrov called the arrests ‘gangsterism’ and Russia recalled its ambassador from Georgia (RFE/RL Newsline 29 September 2006; Petriashvili 2006c). Putin himself accused Georgia of ‘state terrorism’ and said that Georgia wanted ‘to pinch Russia in the most painful way, to provoke it’, while Saakashvili called Putin’s accusations ‘absurd’. Both the EU and OSCE urged caution (RFE/RL Newsline 2 October 2006; Dzhindzhikhashvili 2006d; Petriashvili 2006d). Russia escalated the crisis and implemented an air transport and mail blockade and blamed Georgia of violations of various agreements. Even President Bush discussed the crisis with Putin. Georgia then handed over the ‘spies’ to OSCE as a goodwill gesture, saying that ‘enough is enough’, but also that Georgia could not be treated ‘as a second-rate backyard’ any longer (RFE/RL Newsline 3 October 2006: Abdullaev 2006c). In Russia, Georgians were harassed, and Russian visa requirements were severed (Latynina 2006c; Lukyanov 2006). Putin announced that quotas on immigrants would be set according to the country of origin (RFE/RL Newsline 6 October 2006; Lebedev and Medetsky 2006), and 180 Russians were evacuated from Georgia. Saakashvili now urged Georgians to leave Russia while the UN Security Council urged Georgia to exercise restraints (RFE/RL Newsline 16 October

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2006). Russian sanctions on Georgian business in Russia continued and Georgia called Russian naval exercises in the Black Sea ‘an obvious provocation’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 October 2006). This is the general story of Russian–Georgian relations. Below, I turn to four major conflict issues in the relationship: the problem of Chechen warriors along the Russian–Georgian border, the Russian military bases in Georgia, and the two separatist conflicts in Abkhazia and South Ossetia.

9.2 Russia and the Chechen problem in Georgia The problem of the valley Pankisi Gorge in Russia–Georgian relations is basically a border problem linked to the Chechnya wars. The valley is the only habitable place along the Georgian–Chechen border, situated about 50 kilometres from Chechnya, and reachable through several mountain passes into Chechnya. The border itself is some 80 km long. There has been a population of ethnic Chechens – the Kists – in the Pankisi Gorge since the early nineteenth century. Chechnya had figured seriously in relations between Russia and Georgia on at least four occasions before the outbreak of the second Chechnya war: first, when the first Georgian president, Gamsakhurdia (after he was ousted in 1992) used Chechnya as a safe haven and then launched an attempt to regain power in Georgia in 1993; second, when the Chechen field commander Shamil Basaev with his men sided with Abkhazian forces against the Georgian military forces during the civil war; third, during the first Chechnya war in 1994–96 when Georgia officially supported the Russian effort to suppress the separatist Chechen warriors; and, fourth, when the Chechen Chief of Staff, Aslan Maskhadov, went to Tbilisi in 1997 and met Shevardnadze in an attempt to revive good relations, to Russia’s dismay. In 1999, at the start of the second Chechnya war, the Kists welcomed altogether some 7,000 Chechen refugees in the Pankisi Gorge, together with 1,500 Chechen warriors, and the valley was soon riddled with organized crime (Felgenhauer 2002b). Russia issued warnings not to support the Chechen warriors or allow them to transit to Chechnya and threatened with severe punishments (RFE/RL Caucasus Report 24 September 1999). To Russia, the general Pankisi Gorge problem has been the Chechen warriors hiding out among the Chechen refugees in the Pankisi Gorge, while to Georgia the problem has been to withstand Russia’s demands to take action against them. The typical Russian catalogue of arguments from the very beginning of the second Chechnya war in fall 1999 includes the accusation that Georgia has allowed Chechen warriors safe recuperation havens and ‘springboards’ for military actions into Chechnya, and for establishing some 20 military bases there. Such accusations have usually been denied by Georgia. Russian countermeasures against the Chechens in the Pankisi Gorge have taken the form of air intrusions, when, for example, Russian combat helicopters entered Georgian airspace twice in fall 1999 and again in February 2000. Georgian protests were strong, of course, but Russia denied responsibility.

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Later in 2000, the possibility of repatriating the estimated 7,000 Chechen refugees who had fled to Pankisi Gorge was raised. By now, Shevardnadze at times admitted that Chechen warriors indeed had infiltrated among the Chechen refugees, but he also feared that the Russian military was trying to draw Georgia into the Chechen conflict. In September 2000, there were some bilateral attempts to deal with the issue by Russian and Georgian military authorities, but in October, after 60 Chechen warriors had entered Georgia from Ingushetia, and Russian requests of extradition did not lead to anything (since the Chechen warriors went back to Ingushetia after they had been denied free passage to Azerbaijan or Turkey by Georgian authorities), Russia used this as an example of Georgia’s inability to guard its borders. A similar incident in December resulted in similar accusations and in Georgian rejections to allow Russian ‘mopping-up’ operations in the Pankisi Gorge. In early 2001, Georgia tried to ease tensions by re-registering the 7,000 Chechen refugees in Pankisi Gorge in order to locate the warriors, and by increasing the number of Georgian–Chechnya and Georgian–Ingushetia border posts. Several top official meetings kept a dialogue going on the issue of Chechens in Pankisi Gorge in the spring. In late summer, Russian accusations of Georgian support of Chechen terrorism increased, however, also of links between foreign Islamic organizations and the north Caucasus Wahhabis. In the immediate post-11 September environment, Georgia feared clear-cut Russian military actions against Chechen warriors on Georgian territory. Russian government officials linked the terrorist attacks in the United States with actions by Chechen militants: Arab mercenaries were said to be involved in Chechnya which called for coordination with the United States in the fight against ‘international terrorism’. Putin himself openly linked Chechnya developments with international terrorism: ‘[t]he events in Chechnya cannot be considered outside of the context of the struggle with international terrorism’ (RFE/RL Newsline 25 September 2001). Sergey Ivanov argued that Afghanistan and Chechnya were ‘two branches of one tree . . . the roots of [which] are in Afghanistan’ (RFE/RL Newsline 4 October 2001). The presidential aide Sergey Yastrzhembski said that bin Laden was directly involved in sending terrorists to Chechnya, although they were rather few at the moment (RFE/RL Newsline 12 October 2001).6 In December 2001, the situation in Pankisi Gorge deteriorated further still, and Russia now claimed that the problem posed ‘an acute threat to the national security of Russia’, that Pankisi Gorge was ‘practically occupied’ by Chechens, and calling Georgian inaction ‘an unfriendly act’ against Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 21 December 2001). The Russian verbal assault continued and in February 2002 Igor Ivanov claimed that the Pankisi Gorge had become a ‘stronghold of . . . international terrorists’, and Sergey Ivanov claimed that Georgia was unable to control the Pankisi Gorge on its own (RFE/RL Newsline 20 February 2002). Georgia was shaken by the seemingly identical Russian and US position. The US support for the Russian efforts in Pankisi Gorge was somewhat upset in spring 2002 with the effort to provide 150 US instructors to train and equip a Georgian battalion for security operations in the Pankisi Gorge. This was seen

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by some Russian top officials to ‘further aggravate the situation in the region’, but Putin himself took a different view, arguing that Georgia (like the Central Asian states) should allow US troops on its territory: ‘[e]very country, in particular Georgia, has the right to act to protect its security. Russia recognizes this right’ (RFE/RL Newsline 4 March 2002).7 President George W. Bush also offered some verbal support to Russia, stating that ‘terrorists working closely with Al-Qaeda operate in the Pankisi Gorge near the Russian border’. After talks with US Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, Sergey Ivanov disclosed that ‘the connection between the militants who trained on the territory of Afghanistan and those who are still fighting in Chechnya is unquestionable’, and that ‘the closest cooperation’ between Russia and the USA was necessary to enable Georgia to mount a successful operation against those fighters (RFE/RL Newsline 14 March 2002).8 In my view, the uncertainty about what the final position of the United States would be on how to treat the Chechen warriors in the Pankisi Gorge helped to defuse the Pankisi Gorge crisis for some time in spring 2002. It also showed the different assessments of Putin and his defence and foreign ministers. In early summer, some other developments with respect to the Chechen warriors in Georgia also seemed to have eased the situation.9 The famous May 2002 summit between Presidents Bush and Putin seemed to have defused the issue of US instructors in Georgia. Despite this temporary rapprochement, the air intrusions by two helicopters on two different occasions again poisoned relations. Renewed Russian accusations of Chechen warriors supposedly hiding out in Georgia also contributed to the spiralling conflict (RFE/RL Newsline 23 May 2002). In the summer, a rather persistent theme developed on the Russian side, possibly raised in the Russian–American talks, that of joint Russian–Georgian military operations in the Pankisi Gorge. Putin claimed that ‘neither the American Special Forces nor specially trained units of the Georgian military can resolve the problem of terrorists in the Pankisi Gorge without the direct and active participation of Russian special forces’ (RFE/RL Newsline 25 June 2002). Shevardnadze claimed that Georgia was capable of establishing order in the Pankisi Gorge without Russian assistance (RFE/RL Newsline 9 July 2002), and after several meetings with Putin’s envoy (the Russian Security Council Secretary Vladimir Rushailo), it was agreed that no joint military operation would take place (Nezavisimaia Gazeta 10 July 2002; RFE/RL Newsline 11 July 2002). Tension increased in the fall. In August, new fighting erupted along the Chechen–Georgian border and Russian troops severely beat some 100 Chechen warriors, using both aircraft and combat helicopters. Putin personally rebuked Georgia for not preventing Chechen incursions and the Russian Foreign Ministry deplored Georgia’s ‘reluctance to take practical steps against terrorism’ and advocated ‘targeted retaliatory operations’ by Russian military forces, which official Georgian sources, in turn, referred to as ‘a call for war’ (RFE/RL Newsline 2 August 2002; see also Areshidze 2002a; Areshidze 2002b). Reciprocal official high-strung statements continued, and the United States detected what a tight rope it was walking.

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At the same time, Georgian troops entered the Pankisi Gorge for the first time since the second Chechnya war began and captured some warriors. This was not enough for Russia, though, and when another 500 Russian troops were dispatched to the Chechen–Georgian frontier, Shevardnadze predicted that Russia was about to launch a military operation in Pankisi Gorge (RFE/RL Newsline 13 August 2002; Blagov 2002f; Nezavisimaia Gazeta 13 August 2002). New air intrusions by four (presumably) Russian unmarked aircraft engaged in a bomb raid with some casualties, and Georgia sent an official protest note with severe accusations. Although Georgian popular demands to shoot down Russian intruders were plentiful, Shevardnadze himself tried to calm things down, arguing that Putin himself probably had not ordered the bombings (RFE/RL Newsline 27 August 2002). The question of who was flying the planes and who was dropping the bombs was never really answered, though. The severity of the situation was caught by the United States, who got ‘deeply concerned’ and (this time) offered its ‘strong support’ for Georgia’s independence (RFE/RL Newsline 27 August 2002), and the USA officially called the Russian military ‘liars’ (Felgenhauer 2002b).10 Russian mistrust in Georgian attempts to do something about the situation in Pankisi Gorge was evident, and when Shevardnadze later announced that Georgian forces would launch an ‘anti-criminal and anti-terrorist’ operation to establish ‘peace and stability’ in the Pankisi Gorge, the Russian Foreign Ministry dryly commented that several such crackdowns had been announced in the past (RFE/RL Newsline 20 August 2002). A week later, some 1,000 heavily armed Georgian troops did enter the Pankisi Gorge, but by now the Chechen warriors had already left. Putin personally sent Shevardnadze a letter complaining about the ‘tactic of peacefully squeezing out the terrorists from the Pankisi Gorge’, and instead insisted on ‘decisive, concrete, and purposeful actions for the destruction of bandit formations’ (RFE/RL Newsline 26 August 2002). Putin wanted the Pankisi Gorge blocked and all warriors disarmed and turned over to Russia, offering to send Russian officials to assist (RFE/RL Newsline 5 September 2002). The situation rapidly grew worse, and Putin warned that Russia would take appropriate self-defence actions, and that ‘nobody can deny . . . that those who had a hand in the terrorist attacks in the United States one year ago and the perpetrator of [the 1999] apartment bombings in Russia have taken refuge in Georgia’ (RFE/RL Newsline 9 September 2002). In a note to the United Nations and the OSCE, Putin claimed that Russia had largely succeeded in destroying the ‘terrorist infrastructure’ created in Chechnya, but some Chechen militants had taken refuge in Georgia with the support from the Georgian political leadership. Putin also complained that Shevardnadze had not reacted ‘constructively’ to Putin’s proposal for joint military actions and accused Georgia of violating the UN Security Council’s antiterrorism resolution No. 1373. Putin also threatened that Russia would act ‘in strict accordance with international law’ to neutralize the ‘terrorist threat’, if Georgia failed to do so (RFE/RL Newsline 12 September 2002; Devdariani 2002c). There was an obvious war scare in the air, and offers of international mediation reinforced the perceived sincerity of the situation (Felgenhauer 2002b).11

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The harsh Russian reaction was obviously inspired by the US position on terrorism, which caused a dilemma to the USA (Torbakov 2002c). Worrying about a possible military showdown, the United States came out in strong support of Georgia, opposing ‘any unilateral military action by Russia inside Georgia’, and adding that the United States ‘takes strong exception’ to Putin’s statements. Bush urged Putin to give Georgia time to clear the Pankisi Gorge (RFE/RL Newsline 12 September 2002).12 Sergey Ivanov instead suggested that ‘Russia reserves the right to use any method of action approved by the UN Charter to repel possible aggression from Georgian territory’, and that Russia as a victim of international terrorism originating from Georgian territory would ‘use military force to resist them, with all the consequences that might bring’. He further warned that Russia would ‘use all the avenues accepted by international law and United Nations resolutions on combating international terrorism’ (RFE/RL Newsline 26 September 2002). The war scare did grip Georgia by the throat, and rightly so. In October 2002, Putin and Shevardnadze met and agreed to appoint permanent special envoys. Both seemed satisfied with the talks, and Shevardnadze called them a ‘turning point’ in the relationship. Coordination of border patrols was agreed upon, although not joint military action (RFE/RL Newsline 8 October 2002). Cooperation on joint patrols was all but smooth, though, and Russia concluded that the planned joint border operations would not yield real cooperation, since there was ‘no political will’ in Georgia (RFE/RL Newsline 15 November 2002; Blagov 2002g). The reason for the Russian disappointment was not evident: perhaps Russia did not want the cooperation to work, perhaps Russia needed the Pankisi Gorge conflict to keep a bargaining chip for the future. In any event, the relatively small number of Chechen warriors still left in the Pankisi Gorge was not proportional to the high degree of tension that was generated by their presence. The most interesting consequence of the many Russian threats, in my view, was precisely that nothing really happened: the open threats were never carried out, which remains something of a mystery. In early 2003, Russia continued to claim that Pankisi Gorge was crowded with Chechen warriors, and the United States urged Georgia to expel those remaining warriors to Russia. Georgia now urged Russia for help to seal the border (Blagov 2003a).13 In March, new Georgian efforts to clean up the Pankisi Gorge were undertaken, but Russian accusations that Chechen warriors operated in the Pankisi Gorge continued, although Putin and Shevardnadze tried to turn the tide (but with no obvious success) (Devdariani 2003c). The bilateral security pact between Georgia and the United States (signed in April 2003) further irritated Russia. Quite likely, the Russian tactic was to keep the USA from getting too deeply bedded down in this most unruly part of the former Soviet Union (Blagov 2003c). In June 2003, Putin promised Shevardnadze financial and administrative assistance to fight terrorism, and Georgia invited Russia to Pankisi Gorge to convince itself that there were no warriors left. Putin insisted, however, that terrorists close to Al-Qaeda still were in the Pankisi Gorge (RFE/RL Newsline 25 June 2003). In June 2003,

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there were also reports that some 150 of Ruslan Gelaev’s warriors were preparing to enter Chechnya from Pankisi Gorge, including mercenaries linked with Al-Qaeda. The Georgian State Security Minister met with the Russian FSB Director and insisted that it was ‘completely impossible’ for Chechen fighters to enter Russia from Georgia (RFE/RL Newsline 29 June 2003). New Georgian denials followed in September, while the Russian military said that Chechen warriors were still crossing the border. In October, the Russian new military doctrine was presented, a doctrine that suggested Russian launching of pre-emptive military strikes within the CIS. This, of course, caused some stir in Georgia (RFE/RL Newsline 10 October 2003).14 When Shevardnadze criticized the doctrine, the Russian defence minister responded rather aggressively: ‘the doctrine was not elaborated in order to be liked or disliked by anyone’; it was a response to the real threat pattern that exists to Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 14 October 2003). Immediately after the Georgian ‘rose revolution’, the situation seemed better for a while, but in January 2004 Russian accusations and Georgian denials were back on track again, however, and Russia complained about the Georgian inability to clean out ‘terrorists’ who were able to maintain camps and ammunition depots in the Pankisi Gorge (RFE/RL Newsline 23 January 2004). The new Georgian president suggested joint patrols of the shared border (Nezavisimaia Gazeta 15 January 2004, p. 5). In spring, a border protection agreement was signed to the effect that border guards would jointly patrol Georgia’s borders with Ingushetia, Chechnya and Dagestan to reduce the mutual accusations of failing to prevent border violations. Indeed, in August, Chechens in Pankisi Gorge complained about raids by Georgian Security forces. Georgian effectiveness with respect to border security had evidently increased. In September 2004, there was a new series of Russian accusations and Georgian rebuttals on the issue of Chechen warriors in Pankisi Gorge after the Beslan catastrophe. The United States also joined the Russian choir of complaints. Putin again hinted at the possibility of chasing terrorists also abroad (Isachenkov 2004). After further Russian pressure, Georgia launched a special operation to verify the identity of Chechen refugees living in the area and then offered Russia a list of all people living in Pankisi Gorge. The northern Georgian border was searched together with officials from the OSCE, the USA and with Russian security representatives in an operation aimed ‘to show that Georgia’s law enforcement bodies have the situation in control, and there is no chance for terrorists and paramilitary units to find shelter’ (RFE/RL Newsline 4 October 2004). The relationship thus seemed to stabilize. After bilateral relations had taken a turn for the worse again in early 2005, Sergey Ivanov threatened that Georgia might be targeted for Russian air strikes, which he claimed to be ‘codified in a resolution by the United Nations adopted after the tragedy in Beslan’ (RFE/RL Newsline 7 March 2005). In July, Ivanov announced that Russia would reinforce its borders with Georgia, since Georgia still was ‘a weak, corrupt state’ where foreign mercenaries could easily pass into Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 12 July 2005). Similar allegations followed in October.

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This notion that Georgia more or less willingly accepted Chechen and mercenary warriors on its territory and actually allowed them to use the Pankisi Gorge for their operations into Chechnya has thus been a permanent theme in the Russian–Georgian relationship since the beginning of the second Chechnya war in fall 1999. In hindsight, it is obvious that Chechen warriors indeed used Pankisi Gorge as one of their bases for operations in Chechnya. It is also quite evident that Georgia was unable to secure the Pankisi Gorge border to Chechnya, at least until recently. The number of Chechen warriors has probably diminished quite substantially over the years, and in this respect the problem ought to have been defused. Most importantly, in my view, the entire Russian argument seems to assume that there is only one side to a border, and to the extent that Georgia was unable to seal its side, so was Russia on the Chechen side.

9.3 Russian military bases in Georgia The issue of Russian military bases in Georgia has been linked to other bilateral issues in the relationship and has largely been locked. Already in May 1992, Russia signed an agreement to transfer the former Soviet military bases, arms depots and military equipment from Georgia. Later, however, Russia linked this agreement to a resolution of the Abkhaz conflict. The base issue has continued to mar Russian–Georgian relations ever since. An agreement in September 1995 suggested that Russia should keep troops and maintain bases for a period of 25 years in Akhalkalaki (in southern Georgia) and Vaziani (near Tbilisi), at Batumi in Ajaria and at Gudauta in Abkhazia. The agreement was contingent on a solution to the conflict in Abkhazia and was never ratified by the Georgian Parliament. Georgian concern about the Russian bases became particularly acute in 1998 when Russia was accused of military involvement in an attempted assassination of Shevardnadze and of forcing about 30,000 returning Georgian refugees from Abkhazia to flee once again to Georgia.15 In November 1999, however, at the OSCE summit in Istanbul, Russia suddenly conceded to demands to close the four Russian military bases in Georgia – two in the immediate future (Vaziani and Gudauta, to be closed by 1 July 2001), and the other two (Akhalkalaki and Batumi at a later date). The issue of the Russian military bases was thus nominally solved just before Putin became president. Putin obviously had second thoughts about abandoning the bases. In 2000, Russia instead suggested that the base in Gudauta was to be transformed into a training centre for the Russian (CIS) peace-keeping force in Abkhazia. Several rounds of negotiations did not solve the status of the Gudauta base.16 In early 2001, Russia reaffirmed the mid-2001 withdrawal deadline from the Vaziani and Gudauta bases with some reservations, but there still was no agreement on withdrawal from the other two bases at Akhalkalaki and Batumi (which Russia wanted to keep for another 15 years while Georgia had offered three years). By the agreed deadline, Russia left the Vaziani base, but not the Gudauta base (because of a blockade by local Abkhaz and Russians). A diplomatic crisis was inevitable: both sides accused the other of not complying with the withdrawal

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deadline; of ‘not withdrawing’ and of ‘not ensuring the safe withdrawal’ (as the respective argument ran). Further talks resulted in Russia leaving some small number of troops to guard the base and its equipment. Russia blamed Georgian ‘unfriendly policy’ for the refusal to leave the other two bases (RFE/RL Newsline 16 November 2001). In spring and summer 2002, rising tension in Abkhazia and Pankisi Gorge was used as an excuse for further delays. In spring 2003, Russia reduced its demand for full withdrawal from 14 to ten years, but nothing came out from these negotiations (RFE/RL Caucasus Report 3 January 2003). In September 2003, negotiations were resumed, but the ‘rose revolution’ in Georgia changed the situation. In the ‘breakthrough talks’ between Putin and the new Georgian president Saakashvili in late December 2003, the old Russian formula was reiterated, and the withdrawal issue was now linked to renewed negotiations on a new framework treaty (Felgengauer 2004a; Mchedlishvili 2004; Bellaby 2004; Torbakov 2004f). Sergey Ivanov seemed to be the sternest opponent of an earlier retreat. In summer 2004, bilateral talks on the timetable were postponed, but in August Russia offered a ‘seven- or eightyear’ timetable for the withdrawal (RFE/RL Newsline 11 August 2004). This timetable too was unacceptable to Georgia, although it had been changed in the right direction. The situation would turn worse before it turned for the better. In spring 2005, developments were swift. The Georgian Parliament declared the two Russian bases ‘illegal’ and set the date for withdrawal to 1 January 2006 (‘Georgian Lawmakers . . .’ 2005; ‘Thorny Talks . . .’ 2005). By April, progress was evident in the negotiations, however, and the remaining details concerned the dates for the beginning and completion of the Russian withdrawal. Saakashvili announced, somewhat prematurely it would turn out, that ‘this year, for the first time in 200 years, we can resolve the issue of pulling the Russian troops out of Georgia and Georgia’s de-occupation once and for all’ (RFE/RL Newsline 26 April 2005). Lavrov also hinted that the base issue might be solved soon (Ingram 2005a; Peucht 2005d; Corwin 2005). Further defence minister discussions on the timetable also failed, and President Bush promised Saakashvili to take the issue up with Putin in May (Corso 2005a). In the meantime, the Georgian Parliament continued its ‘blackmail’ and Putin criticized Georgia for its demands for a swift withdrawal, but also asked for reassurances that there would be no foreign bases in Georgia (RFE/RL Newsline 24 May 2005; Klimchuk 2005). Then, surprisingly, in May, the Russian and Georgian foreign ministers signed an agreement on the closure of the two remaining military bases, according to which the withdrawal of armaments would begin in 2005, and the troop withdrawal from the base at Akhalkalaki would be finished by October 2007 and from the base in Batumi by the end of 2008. Compromises had been struck on several details (Parsons 2004; Corso 2005b; Martirosyan and Ismail 2005). Saakashvili praised Putin’s ‘courage’. Sergey Ivanov declared that Russia would establish two new military bases close to Georgia with three mountain brigades before the withdrawal from Georgia had been completed (Fuller 2005e). In November, Putin and

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Saakashvili agreed to sign a formal agreement on the base withdrawal, which finalized the issue of the withdrawal of Russian military bases from Georgia. Even during the tense spring 2006 in the relationship, Russia confirmed its intention to close the military bases by the end of 2006, which it did (RFE/RL Newsline 6 March 2006).

9.4 Russia and the Abkhazia conflict Abkhazia is situated at the north-western part of Georgia and borders on the Black Sea and on Russia. Abkhazia became part of Georgia only in 1931, when assimilation into Georgia was imposed (Jackson 2003: 116). By 1989, Abkhazians represented only some 18 per cent while the Georgians represented some 46 per cent of Abkhazia’s total population. Armed clashes between Georgians and Abkhazians broke out in July 1989. Vladislav Ardzinba was elected Abkhazian ‘president’ in late 1990, after Zviad Gamsakhurdia had become president in Georgia. Conflicts remained low-key from 1991 to September 1993 (Jackson 2003: 114). Ardzinba’s struggle for independence from Georgia continued after Shevardnadze’s return to Georgia as a saviour. In August 1992, the Georgian National Guard attacked the Abkhazian Parliament (which had rejected the Georgian constitution), forcing the Abkhaz members of parliament to flee to the Russian military base in Gudauta. During the civil war that followed in 1992–93, Abkhazian forces drove the regular Georgian military forces out of Abkhazia. In the first phase of the war (August–October 1992), a front between Sukhumi and Gudauta was established. The Russian forces deployed in Abkhazia intervened in favour of the Abkhaz separatists (they assumed ‘peacekeeping’ responsibilities only since mid-1994). In September 1992, a ceasefire agreement was reached after Yeltsin’s intervention, but local incidents followed. In November 1992, two SU-25 aircraft were used to defend Russian positions, and in February and March 1993, Russian aircraft openly attacked Georgian positions around Sukhumi and a Russian pilot was shot down (Lynch 2000: 137). In July, a cease-fire agreement was signed. New fighting broke out, however, and in September Abkhazian forces seized Sukhumi and by late 1993 Abkhaz forces had recaptured most Abkhaz territory. Casualties in the civil war were high, around 10,000, and more than 200,000 Georgians fled Abkhazia (Fawn 2003: 133). The return of these Georgian refugees to Abkhazia has been a major conflict issue ever since. In May 1994, another cease-fire was signed, and some 3,000 Russian peacekeepers were stationed along the border between Abkhazia and Georgia proper. The Russian forces used ‘a coercive strategy’ in the 1992–93 civil war and exploited the conflict to force Georgia to join the CIS (Lynch 2000: 28, 30). Later, from October 1993 (to early 1997), Russia instead pressured Abkhazia to compromise with Georgia, and in 1995 Russia formally promised that it would never recognize an independent Abkhazia. Since then, Russia and Georgia have agreed in principle on ‘asymmetrical federalism’ in Georgia, while Abkhazia has insisted on confederation ties (Lynch 2000: 142–148).17 In 1997, then

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Russian Foreign Minister Primakov organized direct negotiations between Abkhazia and Georgia which resulted in an agreement to create a Coordination Commission. The Abkhaz obstructed negotiations, and illegal Georgian paramilitary forces conducted sabotage activities in Abkhazia. Another short war forced about 30,000 Georgians who had returned to flee again. A cease-fire agreement was drafted in fall 1998 but never signed. In October 1999, an Abkhazian referendum (in which only resident Abkhazians took part) voted in favour of independence from Georgia. This was the situation that Putin inherited with respect to Abkhazia. In summer 2000, OSCE suggested that the UN should get involved in solving the Abkhaz conflict after 15 Abkhaz policemen had been killed (presumably by Georgian paramilitary troops made up of Georgians exiled from Abkhazia). Russia was seriously concerned at these increasing terrorist attacks, but in September Russia stalled the UN Security Council treatment of Abkhazia. Abkhazia rejected negotiations with the formal (and since 1999) standard argument that the Abkhaz population had already voted for independence (RFE/RL Newsline 25 January 2001). In March 2001, Georgia accused Russia of blocking discussions on the UN proposal by its refusal to accept UN forces instead of Russian (CIS) peacekeeping forces, while Abkhazia acknowledged that ‘Russia . . . plays the stabilizing role in the region, and therefore there is no need for the internationalization of the CIS peacekeeping force’ (RFE/RL Newsline 23 May 2001). Further talks on a UN peacekeeping engagement were never resumed (Diamond 2001a). The multitude of actors involved in the conflicts in itself made negotiations difficult. The fact was that there were ‘terrorists’ on both the Georgian and Russian side of the conflict and that the post-11 September mood did not really help in identifying the ‘good’ from the ‘bad’. Fighting between Abkhaz forces and Georgian paramilitary troops occurred now and then. From 11 September onward, the issue of the Russian peacekeeping forces in Abkhazia was closely intertwined with the resumption of fighting between Georgian paramilitary troops and Abkhazian forces. In late September 2001, some 450 Chechen warriors infiltrated Abkhazia’s Kodori Gorge (a Georgian-populated enclave within Abkhazia and a haven for paramilitary troops, including Chechen warriors) and several hundred more gathered on the Georgian side of the border between Abkhazia and the rest of Georgia. Russia urged Georgia to prevent the terrorist operations (RFE/RL Caucasus Report 12 October 2001). The participation of Chechen warriors on the side of (Christian) Georgian paramilitaries against Abkhaz (Muslim) forces blurred the conflict still further. As a result, rhetoric increased on both the Russian and Georgian sides. The Abkhaz believed that a withdrawal of Russian peacekeepers would lead to large-scale war, and Shevardnadze argued that Georgia would, as a last resort, go to war to keep Abkhazia inside Georgia, and that the only way to avoid a new war would be to accept a single Georgian state since the Russian peacekeeping forces had ‘failed to achieve its primary objective’ (RFE/RL Newsline 17 October 2001). After a UN helicopter had been shot down in Abkhazia in October (probably

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by Chechen forces under Gelaev) and UN observers withdrawn as a consequence, the UN Secretary General Kofi Annan again called on the Abkhaz and Georgians to resume talks and criticized Georgia for failing to restrain the paramilitary forces (RFE/RL Newsline 30 October 2001; Diamond 2001b). The situation had deteriorated as a result of the intense fighting in the Kodori Gorge. In December, Russia officially called on Georgia to withdraw its army units from the Kodori Gorge to help ease the tensions created by the Georgian and Chechen warriors in Kodori Gorge. Accusations and counter-accusations continued on all sides all through the year, and by the end of 2001 the UN had concluded that the Russian peacekeepers could not be withdrawn from Abkhazia.18 Another related problem in the Kodori Gorge just after 11 September was the air bombings in October and November, executed by unmarked aircraft and helicopters entering from Russia, which Georgia considered a ‘large-scale provocation’. Shevardnadze threatened a severe response (RFE/RL Newsline 10 October 2001). Another similar incident occurred about a week later when six helicopters bombed Kodori Gorge villages and two SU-25 aircraft entered Georgia from Russia, called ‘intolerable’ by Shevardnadze (RFE/RL Newsline 17 October 2001). Several new intrusions followed later and Georgia delivered a formal protest note. Again, Russia denied involvement. In late November, new bombings in the Kodori Gorge were characterized as ‘open aggression against a sovereign neighbour state’ (RFE/RL Newsline 30 November 2001). Another incident took place in January 2002 when several unidentified aircraft bombed in the Kodori Gorge. Shevardnadze did not believe that Putin knew of the decision to bomb Georgian territory; he rather believed that the bombing decision had been taken at a lower level (RFE/RL Newsline 29 November 2001). He also stressed that Georgia would not risk starting a war by shooting down aircraft (RFE/RL Newsline 30 November 2001). The intrusions were probably inspired by the American air raids in Afghanistan, and the similarity of these raids to the Russian raids that occurred almost a decade earlier (later confirmed as Russian raids) is telling: the question of whether they were sanctioned by the highest authorities is an open question, though. A UN Security Council resolution on 31 January 2002 called on both the Abkhaz and the federal Georgian government to take that document. Shevardnadze called the resolution ‘the most serious’ document so far (RFE/RL Newsline 28 January 2002). The document defined Abkhazia as ‘a sovereign law-based entity within the framework of the Georgian state’, as a basis for reaching a solution to the conflict (RFE/RL Newsline 11 February 2002). In January 2002, the mandate for the Russian peacekeepers was running out, with no mandated decision by Georgia (Devdariani 2002a). Russia repeatedly urged Georgia to decide on the mandate, which Georgia failed to do. The situation grew intolerable, and Georgian troop deployments in the Kodori Gorge (since October 2001) severed the situation. Russia threatened to withdraw its troops. Official talks on the Georgian withdrawal from the Kodori Gorge began in February 2002, and in March Shevardnadze and Putin finally agreed that the mandate of the Russian peacekeeping force would be altered.

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Kodori Gorge nevertheless kept its prominence in the Abkhaz conflict also in spring 2002 since the Chechen field commander Ruslan Gelaev again entered Abkhazia from some other part of Georgia. In March, Russia characterized the situation as ‘explosive’ since Chechen warriors posed ‘a real danger to the Abkhaz population’ (RFE/RL Newsline 13 March 2002).19 Accusations and counter-accusations were again exchanged among the many parties to the conflict. There were some positive developments in Kodori Gorge later in the spring, though: first, border guards would replace military troops and Abkhazia was ready to resume UN-sponsored talks with Georgia on confidence-building measures. Second, the UN Observer Mission in Georgia and the Russian peacekeeping force resumed joint patrols of the Kodori Gorge. Third, Georgia and Abkhazia signed a protocol on the withdrawal of their troops in Kodori Gorge. The situation soon turned worse again when the Georgian troops had been withdrawn from Kodori Gorge; some 200 Russian peacekeeping troops set up control posts, which Georgia in turn interpreted as a provocation. Russia withdrew its troops after Shevardnadze and Putin had talked over the phone, and Shevardnadze claimed that had it not been for Putin’s swift reaction ‘wide-scale military actions would probably have begun and led to the renewal of the conflict in Abkhazia’ (RFE/RL Newsline 15 April 2002). The situation continued to be tense in the Kodori Gorge. In May 2002, Shevardnadze contributed to the escalation of the crisis by openly expressing support for a ‘strong and united’ guerrilla movement of former Georgian residents of Abkhazia (RFE/RL Newsline 17 May 2002). Only in June did the situation get somewhat defused when a group of experts was set up to solve the Kodori Gorge situation. In August 2002, the crisis in the Kodori Gorge deepened once again when the Russian peacekeeping force wanted to open a permanent post to prevent Chechen fighters from entering Russia via Kodori Gorge, which Georgia refused to accept. Fighting broke out in the Georgian-controlled parts of the Kodori Gorge, and additional war accusations followed from all sides, and only in late September were there some new attempts to break the impasse, this time also involving the United States. The different issues concerning Abkhazia were all interlinked, of course, including the question of the formal status of Abkhazia within Georgia. In October 2002, the Georgian Parliament amended its constitution and made Abkhazia an autonomous republic within Georgia, but as expected, the Abkhaz Prime Minister noted that Abkhazia’s status as a sovereign state was enshrined in its own constitution (i.e. independence). In November, Georgia submitted a request to Kofi Annan for an open discussion on the Abkhaz conflict, but Russia stalled the Security Council session which was postponed once again, and both sides blamed the other for the impasse. In January 2003, new abductions and shootings occurred in Abkhazia, while both Russia and the UN intervened to initiate negotiations between Georgia and Abkhazia. The expiring mandate of the Russian peacekeeping forces once again made Putin threaten to leave Georgia altogether (RFE/RL Newsline 30 January 2003). Both Georgian and Abkhaz military forces offered themselves to replace

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the Russian peacekeeping forces. Shevardnadze then launched the more serious idea of mixed forces, but Abkhazian reactions were basically negative (RFE/RL Newsline 4 February 2003). Shevardnadze had by now become deeply drawn into the conflict and he was accused domestically both of wanting to start a new war and of bearing ‘the main responsibility for losing Abkhazia’ (RFE/RL Newsline 21 January 2003). Georgia and Abkhazia traded fresh accusations of using terrorists in the conflict (RFE/RL Newsline 27 January 2003 and RFE/RL Newsline 28 January 2003). In February, new killings took place, and the Friends of the UN Secretary-General for Georgia met in Geneva to draw up new proposals dealing with economic, humanitarian, political and security issues. Somewhat later, the Georgian government too presented a plan for resolving the Abkhaz conflict. By now, Putin himself got drawn into the process of finding a solution to the many problems in Abkhazia, and at a March 2003 summit in Sochi he tried to find a settlement with Shevardnadze. In a joint statement, the two presidents agreed to expedite the return, first to Abkhazia’s southernmost Gali district (and then to other districts) of Georgian displaced persons who fled their homes during the 1992–93 civil war. An agreement was also reached on the creation of a joint Georgian–Abkhaz–Russian police force and joint administration for Gali, but the Abkhazians rejected the proposal (RFE/RL Newsline 12 March 2003; RFE/RL Caucasus Report 10 March 2003). Conditions for success seemed better than ever, but a crisis developed within the Abkhaz government, which resigned (to be dealt with in more detail below). As a result, the direct Georgian–Abkhaz talks on the important repatriation issues were postponed. In May, a new federation plan was published (McMahon 2003). In June, a new Abkhaz government asked for resumed direct talks with Georgia under the UN-sponsored Coordinating Council, talks that had been broken off some 18 months earlier. High-level talks were resumed also between representatives of Georgia, Russia and the United Nations in order to implement the Sochi agreement signed some three months earlier on the repatriation of Georgians to south Abkhazia. While Abkhazia resisted, both Putin and Shevardnadze insisted. Direct Georgian military threats against Abkhazia followed. This time, too, Shevardnadze came out on the same side as Putin, and by association also with Abkhazia. The picture was not altogether bright, though, as Russia at the same time was accused of violating Georgian airspace. Furthermore, three members of the UN Observer Mission in Georgia (UNOMIG) were abducted in the Kodori Gorge, only to be released after negotiations between Georgian authorities and the abductors, probably involving paid ransom (since the kidnappers were given free passage out of Kodori Gorge, a procedure that was strongly condemned both by Russia and the United Nations). As a result, the UN patrols of Kodori Gorge were once again suspended and a UN Security Council resolution condemned the failure to apprehend those responsible. It would take another one and a half years (to February 2005) until patrols of the Kodori Gorge resumed. The consequences of the Sochi summit in March 2003 were important, and a

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few of the developments could be understood only in the light of the prolonged government crisis in Abkhazia. In April 2003, the issue of security guarantees for the repatriated persons (once they had moved back to Gali) turned out to be a problem, as did the re-establishment of a railway line from Sochi in Russia to Tbilisi via Abkhazia and the repatriation of displaced persons in the Gali district. The Abkhaz leadership used the unrest in the Gali district as a pretext for introducing a nationwide state of emergency: mistrust was widespread. The repatriation issue turned out to be a hard nut to crack. Georgia suggested that ‘everything depends on whether Russia can persuade the Abkhaz leadership to accept the international community’s recommendations concerning the political aspects’ of resolving the conflict (RFE/RL Newsline 20 June 2003). A Georgian parliamentary debate on Abkhazia was repeatedly postponed but when it was revealed that a new military operation against Abkhazia had been drafted, the situation deteriorated further. There were hunger strikes with demands for the withdrawal of Russian peacekeepers from the conflict zone and an emergency session of the Georgian Parliament, demanding a UN intervention in Abkhazia. Shevardnadze wrote to Putin and Kofi Annan to protest the ‘policy of double standards’ that Russia had been pursuing since 1996 vis-à-vis Abkhazia (RFE/RL Newsline 31 July 2003). As if this was not enough, even the issue of a ferry line that was to open between Abkhazia and Russia made it to the conflict agenda when the Georgian Coast Guard warned that it would interfere. The general issue was, of course, who should be in control of Abkhaz territorial waters, Georgia or Abkhazia? When the ferry resumed traffic, Georgia delivered a formal protest note to Russia calling the resumption of traffic ‘an act of piracy’ (RFE/RL Newsline 30 July 2003). The repatriation issue was the trickier issue, though. When the members of the Friends of the UN Secretary-General for Georgia resumed talks, both Georgian and Abkhaz government delegations participated, for the first time. The talks were hampered by the killing of four Abkhaz customs officers in the Gali district, blamed on Georgian paramilitaries. In September, there were several high-level meetings to discuss the implementation of the Sochi agreements, but the talks between Georgia and Abkhazia were postponed since the Abkhaz delegation failed to show up. The murder of three Abkhaz border police made the Georgian and Abkhazian authorities sign an agreement ‘to cooperate and take immediate measures to stop criminal activities . . . that have a serious impact on security’ in the conflict zone, and to cooperate fully with the UN police force that was to be deployed in the conflict zone (RFE/RL Newsline 9 October 2003). The situation did not change for the better, though; a hostage affair and the Abkhaz police killing of some Georgians raised tension further. Then in November–December 2003, the ‘rose revolution’ postponed other developments for some time. The next year – 2004 – was coloured by the presidential elections in Abkhazia (not tied to the presidential elections in Georgia). The final stages of these elections are worth recalling, since they showed that Putin was not altogether stuck in ‘old thinking’ even with respect to Abkhazia.

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To begin the story from the outset: in April and May 2003 there was a government crisis in Abkhazia which further destabilized the Abkhaz situation. After mass protests by the opposition political movement, the Abkhaz government resigned, and the Abkhaz Parliament proposed to amend the constitution on parliamentary and presidential elections. The ailing Abkhaz President Vladislav Ardzinba named his Defence Minister Raul Khadjimba to head the new Abkhaz government. All through the period up to the Abkhaz presidential elections in October 2004 a year later was unruly. President Ardzinba himself was undergoing medical treatment in Moscow from summer 2003 but refused to give in to opposition demands to step down before his presidential term expired (RFE/RL Caucasus Report 3 July 2003). When the new Georgian president Saakashvili decided to unite all of Georgia in January 2004 after the ‘rose revolution’, tension rose again in Abkhazia: a bomb was discovered on a commuter train and seven Georgian police officers were killed and injured in armed clashes. A Georgian counter operation did not stabilize the situation (Lederer 2004). There were several obvious attempts by the outgoing president Ardzinba to exclude a prominent member of the Abkhaz diaspora as a candidate. In June, an opposition leader was murdered, and several ministers in the Abkhaz government submitted their resignations. Putin openly supported Khadjimba. On 3 October 2004, the Abkhazian presidential elections were held. Now the real crisis began, since the reporting of the election result went altogether wrong. First the Central Electoral Commission (CEC) suggested that Khadjimba had won with 53 per cent over Sergey Bagapsh (who received 34 per cent). Election officials soon afterwards retracted the results and announced that none of the five candidates had received the necessary 50 per cent which resulted in immediate protests from both Khadjimba and Bagapsh supporters (Dzhindzhikhashvili 2004g, 2004h). One week later, the CEC turned around and declared Bagapsh the winner with ‘some’ 50.08 per cent of the vote, which Ardzinba called ‘illegal and absurd’ (RFE/RL Newsline 12 October 2004). By now, several members of the CEC resigned, including its chairman, and many thousands took to the streets demonstrating both for Bagapsh and for Khadjimba (RFE/RL Caucasus Report 14 October 2004; Devdariani 2004d). Somewhat later, the Abkhaz Supreme Court declared Bagapsh the winner, and Khadjimba supporters stormed the Supreme Court building, after which the Supreme Court reversed its decision and announced once again that a new election would be held in two months, resulting in renewed protests. Khadjimba supporters picketed the government building and prevented a parliamentary debate on the Supreme Court ruling, and Bagapsh supporters surrounded the television building (McMahon 2004). Both Bagapsh and Khadjimba went to Moscow to seek support but only met with the Russian Security Council Secretary Igor Ivanov and with Federal Security Service head Nikolai Patrushev (RFE/RL Newsline 3 November 2004; Bullough 2004; RFE/RL Caucasus Report 5 November 2004). After the trip to Moscow, the two contestants held bilateral talks to resolve the deadlock, without success. Now, Bagapsh’s supporters

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occupied the government building in an attempt to oust Ardzinba and Khadjimba. Russia warned that if ‘illegal’ actions continued, Russia would be compelled ‘to take steps to protect its interests’. Russia seemed somewhat confused (Blagov 2004f). The solution to the deadlock came when the Abkhaz Council of Elders ruled that Bagapsh was the legal winner of the presidential election, but that Khadjimba should occupy a leading post. The Abkhaz Parliament then appealed to outgoing President Ardzinba to ‘respect the will of the people’ and to recognize Bagapsh as the winner (RFE/RL Newsline 29 November 2004). At this time, high-ranking Russian officials went to Sukhumi and warned that its borders with Abkhazia would be closed in the event of further ‘unconstitutional actions’ by Bagapsh, whom they believed to be supported by ‘criminal elements’ (RFE/RL Newsline 2 December 2004; Freese 2004). Khadjimba and Bagapsh began talks mediated by Russia, and it was agreed that the two contestants should jointly participate in a new presidential ballot in which Bagapsh would seek the presidency with Khadjimba as vice-president, a post that hitherto had not existed. A new law was passed to that effect, and a repeat ballot was to be held in January 2005 (Blagov 2004g; RFE/RL Caucasus Report 10 December 2004). By now, Bagapsh tried to repair his standing in Moscow and stressed that Russia had ‘helped Abkhazia resolve problems peacefully’ (RFE/RL Newsline 17 December 2004). Putin realized that he had bet on the wrong horse all along, but also that there was nothing he could do about it now. Generally, Russia had done very little to impose its will and to support its candidate in the elections. This is not traditional Russian behaviour. The repeat elections took place on 12 January 2005, and Bagapsh won (Freese 2005a). To turn back to the situation in relations between Georgia and Abkhazia, we note that just after the ‘rose revolution’, the peace talks under the UN aegis were to begin in February 2004. But since Saakashvili had pledged to restore Georgian control over Abkhazia, Abkhazia now demanded that any further talks should focus on Abkhazia’s Constitution while the UN planned for the UNdrafted plan to be on the agenda. In January 2004, prospects for a rapprochement thus appeared minuscule, but after talks with the UN special envoy, Abkhazia seemed prepared to resume talks with no preconditions. Another exchange of fire in which six Georgian policemen were killed hampered the process. The UN Security Council discussed Kofi Annan’s recent report on the situation in Abkhazia and Georgia urged the UN to redouble its efforts to resolve the Abkhaz conflict. Saakashvili offered Abkhazia the same type of autonomy as he offered South Ossetia (RFE/RL Newsline 28 January 2004; Brand 2005). Ardzinba, in turn, appealed to the UN and Russia to make Georgia refrain from undermining the peace process. He also warned that Abkhazia ‘has the means to protect . . . its sovereignty and territorial integrity’ (RFE/RL Newsline 29 January 2004). In February, an Abkhaz government delegation went to Tbilisi for talks with the Georgian leadership mediated by the UN, and a follow-up meeting in Sukhumi was decided on for May. In his speech to the UN Security Council, the

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new Georgian president Saakashvili accused the Abkhazian authorities of deliberate ethnic cleansing and urged the UN Security Council to exert pressure on Abkhazia to accept a solution offering Abkhazia ‘the highest degree of autonomy’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 February 2004). Before the next round of the UN-led Georgian–Abkhazian talks in May, Abkhazia accused Georgia of preparing for a military campaign in the Gali district and deployed its police forces. The now Secretary of the Russian Security Council Igor Ivanov flew to Tbilisi and presented a settlement plan for Abkhazia that defined Georgia as a federal state within which Abkhazia was a sovereign entity. The proposal was similar to the earlier UN draft. Saakashvili promised to restore his authority over Abkhazia, where ‘evil will not reign for long’; he predicted a peaceful regime change in Abkhazia comparable to that in Ajaria (RFE/RL Caucasus Report 20 May 2004; RFE/RL Newsline 21 May 2004). In June, yet another peace plan was published in Georgia which defined Georgia as a federal state within which Abkhazia was a sovereign entity. Saakashvili claimed to be open to discuss ‘any model of a federal state’ that would grant Abkhazia and South Ossetia ‘enlarged autonomy’ and international security guarantees (RFE/RL Caucasus Report 10 June 2004; RFE/RL Newsline 11 June 2004). Abkhazia denounced the plan, stating that a single state was ‘out of the question’ and referred to its constitutional declaration of Abkhazia as a sovereign state (RFE/RL Newsline 27 May 2004). The situation in Abkhazia continued to be tense, and the only positive sign was the involvement of the international community and the many proposals on federalization that were indeed on the table. There were also some very practical applications of the status of Abkhazia that turned up as serious problems. In July and August 2004, the status of the sea territory of Abkhazia hit the agenda of the negotiations. The Georgian–Abkhaz talks were suspended when a Turkish cargo ship was shelled by Georgia off the Abkhaz coast. Abkhazia criticized the incident as a breach of the cease-fire agreement which ‘demonstrates that the Georgian side has embarked upon a policy of wrecking the process of peaceful settlement of conflicts’ (RFE/RL Newsline 2 August 2004). Both Russia and the UN urged both sides to refrain from actions which could have a negative effect on the peace process, but the two sides instead threatened with further military actions. Russia condemned Saakashvili’s warning of opening fire on any vessels attempting to enter Abkhazia since Russian tourist boats went from Sochi to Sukhumi. Sergey Ivanov condemned Saakashvili’s statement as ‘piracy’ and ‘inconsistent with international law’, while Georgia rejected the Russian statement as ‘aggressive and inappropriate’ (RFE/RL Newsline 5 August 2004). In Russian–Georgian government talks that took place in Moscow, Russia used the familiar argument that it would ‘not remain indifferent to the fate of its citizens in [the Georgian regions of] Abkhazia and South Ossetia’, that Russia would ‘defend their interests and security’ (RFE/RL Newsline 13 August 2004). Saakashvili thus seemed to turn the threat versus conciliation theme off and on. In September, when tension was still high, Saakashvili outlined a plan for

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resolving both the Abkhaz and the South Ossetian conflicts in an address to the UN General Assembly, calling for confidence-building measures, demilitarization of the conflict zones, the deployment of UN observers along the border between Abkhazia and Russia, and the granting of ‘the fullest and broadest form of autonomy’ to the two republics. The Abkhaz and Ossetian languages and cultures would be guaranteed, as would self-governance, fiscal control and ‘meaningful representation and power-sharing’ at the national level. Both Abkhazia and South Ossetia immediately rejected the plan as unacceptable (RFE/RL Newsline 22 September 2004; RFE/RL Newsline 23 September 2004). By now, the upcoming presidential elections in Abkhazia stalled further negotiations on repatriation or federalization, and it would take to December 2004 until the direct talks between Georgia and Abkhaz resumed. In January 2005, yet another draft plan on the status of Abkhazia (and South Ossetia) based on the September plan saw the light. It included a ‘federal arrangement’ that would give the two breakaway republics the ‘highest possible degree of autonomy’ in a ‘common state’ (RFE/RL Newsline 5 January 2005; Mackedon and Corso 2005). After the repeat presidential elections in Abkhazia, relations between Tbilisi and Sukhumi seemed to take a turn for the better, and it was agreed that the UN-led negotiations would be resumed in Geneva. The Georgian leadership soon resorted to harsh language again, and Bagapsh called Saakashvili’s PACE speech a ‘declaration of war’ (RFE/RL Newsline 28 January 2005). The repatriation issue remained a major stumbling block to both sides. The Geneva talks were postponed. In March 2005, Saakashvili suggested a ‘Tyrol’ solution, and in April the UN-led talks in Geneva finally resumed. There was a somewhat softer tone in summer, with no visible breakthroughs, though. In August, renewed talks under the UN aegis began, this time in Tbilisi. In October, the two sides met in Sochi (Russia) to discuss the repatriation in the Gali district, while the UN-led talks were postponed. Both in September and in November, there were new armed clashes in the Gali district, triggered by the negotiations on repatriation. Kofi Annan visited Tbilisi. In December, the situation looked somewhat brighter, when the UN and the EU began talks on Abkhazian reconstruction, and a preliminary agreement on security measures was reached between Tbilisi and Sukhumi on repatriation in the Gali district. The situation in Abkhazia did not improve in 2006. Georgia accused Abkhazian ‘bandits’ of attacking Georgians who returned to Abkhazia (RFE/RL Newsline 10 January 2006), while Abkhazia accused Georgian warriors of killings (RFE/RL Newsline 17 January 2006 and RFE/RL Newsline 18 January 2006). The UN envoy met with both Saakashvili and Bagapsh. Abkhazia then introduced a peace initiative to the UN, hailed by Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 26 January 2006), but opposed by Georgia since it dealt only with practical issues (like train traffic and repatriation) (RFE/RL Newsline 27 January 2006). Russia now withdrew its 2002 support for a UN draft peace plan for Abkhazia; Putin said that there was a need for ‘universal principles’ to settle ‘frozen conflicts’ like those in Kosovo, South Ossetia and Abkhazia (RFE/RL Newsline 1 February 2006).

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In May, Georgia and Abkhazia agreed to restore bilateral discussions under UN auspices (RFE/RL Newsline 16 May 2006; Fuller 2006c), but the talks were postponed. In June, Abkhazia rejected a ‘road map’ presented by Georgia (RFE/RL Newsline 2 June 2006), while Putin clarified that Russia had no territorial ambitions: ‘Russia has never raised the question of the attachment of territories outside its boundaries. We do not have such plans.’ Putin emphasized that territorial integrity must be respected (RFE/RL Newsline 5 June 2006). Abkhazia had by now become the frontline ‘secessionist republic’, and leaders from South Ossetia, Abkhazia and Transdniester met there to discuss common strategies. Abkhazia continued to warn against the withdrawal of Russian peacekeepers and appealed to the international community for help (RFE/RL Newsline 19 July 2006 and RFE/RL Newsline 20 July 2006; Fuller 2006e). The situation turned worse when Georgia launched police operations and deployed military troops in Kodori Gorge to arrest the Svan clan leader, and there was some fighting which resulted in Russian warnings (RFE/RL Newsline 31 July 2006).20 Russia called for the withdrawal of Georgian forces and Abkhazia cancelled the peace talks (RFE/RL Newsline 2 August 2006) and Abkhazia appealed to UN and Russia. In October, Saakashvili offered a new road map, calling the earlier agreements ‘obsolete’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 October 2006). A Russia-supported UN Security Council resolution calling for Georgian restraint was hailed as a victory by both sides (Corso 2006b). Abkhazia held military exercises and repeatedly asked for association with Russia. The UN and the USA continued to beg for restraints and resumption of negotiations in November, and in December the EU suggested that any solution would have to grant Abkhazia (and South Ossetia) ‘broad, far-reaching autonomy’ (RFE/RL Newsline 13 December 2006). The Abkhazian conflict continues to be one of Putin’s absolutely greatest headaches. He is trapped by several commitments, e.g. with respect to the Abkhazians who have Russian citizenship and to the international community. In Abkhazia (as in Transdniester and South Ossetia), there are many players and it is not obvious whose loyalty is for real and what the actual objectives of the players are. Putin has at times been fairly helpless in handling the twists and turns in the conflict. In addition, while Russia’s position in Abkhazia helps it to influence politics generally in Georgia (Fawn 2003: 135), it also locks Russia’s room for manoeuvre still further. Negotiations on several levels and in several fora have so far yielded no results except for some practical measures for refugees to return and some transportation cooperation. A major lesson to be learned from the 2004 election debacle in Abkhazia is that Russia’s possibilities of influencing political developments in the region are, after all, fairly limited. The border problematique of Russia and Georgia is rather particular when it comes to Abkhazia; borders are open and there is no visa requirement for citizens of Abkhazia to enter Russia, most of which hold Russian passports anyway. Other problems are also unique, e.g. the transportation routes over the Black Sea and the train routes along its eastern coastline. There are some similarities, though, to the other major separatist conflict in Georgia, that in South Ossetia, to which I now turn.

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9.5 Russia and the South Ossetia conflict South Ossetia was included in the Georgian Republic in 1922, while North Ossetia became part of the Russian Republic.21 A conflict over its status within Georgia began in 1990 and intensified after the break-up of the USSR and resulted in a civil war that lasted up to June 1992 (in which some 60,000 Ossetians fled to North Ossetia). In 1992, the South Ossetian population voted in favour of joining the Russian Federation; more than 50 per cent of the region’s population already had Russian passports. Georgia regarded this as a threat to Georgia’s own territorial integrity, and conflict was certain. According to the 1992 peace agreement, Russia, Georgia and South Ossetia would each deploy 500 peacekeepers in a conflict zone that divides South Ossetia from Georgia proper. With its 30 per cent ethnic Georgians, tension remained high for most of the 1990s, but the peacekeeping force has enforced normalization quite effectively. In November 2001, the breakaway republic of South Ossetia elected Eduard Kokoity its ‘president’. The status issue has been tied to that of Abkhazia (Lynch 2004: 31). Russia supports South Ossetia both politically, economically and militarily despite its formal claims not to support separatism. In 2003, there were some signs that armed clashes might develop in the region and South Ossetia tightened the control of the border (Devdariani 2003d). Shevardnadze denied that Georgia would start an armed conflict, though: ‘as long as I am president of Georgia, I will not allow the use of arms against Abkhazia or South Ossetia’ (RFE/RL Newsline 2 July 2003). Kokoity was not convinced, and wrote a formal letter to Putin to have his republic accepted as a subject of the Russian Federation, that is, to become ‘Russian’ (RFE/RL Newsline 7 July 2003). During talks in the Hague between the Georgian and Russian governments in October, no progress towards clarifying South Ossetia’s status within Georgia was made. In November, during the ‘rose revolution’, South Ossetia heightened security. The new Georgian leadership intensified South Ossetian ambitions to become a subject of the Russian Federation, and Igor Ivanov held several meetings with the Abkhaz and South Ossetian leaders. Putin himself seemed ambivalent, realizing that Russia could not insist on its own territorial integrity while denying the same right to Georgia, but at the same time stating that ‘[t]he highland peoples form a kind of community and Russia cannot ignore this’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 December 2003). The new Georgian leadership held talks in Moscow with Igor Ivanov, Sergey Ivanov and Putin to overcome the mutual Russian–Georgian hostility, also on South Ossetia. The new Georgian unification drive after the ‘rose revolution’ would bring problems also to South Ossetia as it did to Ajaria and Abkhazia. In January 2004, Kokoity believed that Georgia was preparing for a military campaign, based on the outspoken goals by Saakashvili that Georgia’s territorial unity would soon be restored (RFE/RL Newsline 27 January 2004). In April, negotiations between Russia, Georgia, the Russian Republic of North Ossetia and South

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Ossetia, together with the head of the OSCE Mission in Georgia, resumed for the first time since the ousting of Shevardnadze. In May, Saakashvili seemed prepared to discuss with Abkhazia and South Ossetia ‘any model of a federal state’ that would grant them ‘enlarged autonomy’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 May 2004). A new Georgian plan defined Georgia as a federal state within which Abkhazia and South Ossetia would be sovereign entities. Although a bold attempt, this met with heavy resistance both in Abkhazia and in South Ossetia. Negotiations and political rhetoric were not the sole means used in the conflict. In May, Russian peacekeepers in the Georgian-populated parts of South Ossetia threatened to destroy newly established Georgian police posts (that had been set up to prevent smuggling from Russia via South Ossetia to Georgia); Georgia deployed some 300 Interior Ministry troops. Kokoity, in turn, warned that South Ossetian armed forces would respond ‘with the appropriate measures’ to any Georgian military incursion. Tension heightened before the Georgian troops were withdrawn. Kokoity had been alerted, though, and complained that there were up to 5,000 Georgian soldiers concentrated on Georgia’s internal border with South Ossetia, ‘ready for large-scale intervention’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 June 2004; RFE/RL Newsline 2 June 2004; see also van der Schriek 2004b). Feelings were running high on all sides, and the South Ossetian Parliament appealed to the Russian State Duma to recognize South Ossetia as an independent state, while the Russian Federation Council accused Georgia of undermining the June 1992 agreement on peacekeeping in the conflict zone, saying that Georgia’s actions ‘have led to an escalation of tension and threaten peace and stability across the Caucasus’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 June 2004; see Devdariani 2004b).22 In this high-tension situation, the next session of the JCC was cancelled, later to meet in Moscow instead of Tbilisi (van der Schriek 2004c). Russia warned Georgia against attempts to resolve its conflict with South Ossetia by force, noting that ‘many’ inhabitants of South Ossetia had acquired Russian citizenship, and Russia would not remain indifferent if their lives were threatened (RFE/RL Newsline 30 June 2004). Georgia cancelled participation in the postponed JCC for a while due to a ‘hostage’ affair (Titova 2004). An agreement was then reached in the JCC that Georgia would remove 18 checkpoints that had been set up without the consent of the JCC. But as so often in a situation with many actors involved, something else came up, not necessarily related to the negotiations. Georgian Interior Ministry troops stopped a Russian military convoy in the South Ossetian conflict zone, while South Ossetian police detained some 50 Georgian peacekeepers. Lavrov called the interception of the Russian convoy an outrageous violation of the early June agreement, and Ivanov demanded the immediate return of the confiscated military equipment (Blagov 2004d; Dzhindzhikhashvili 2004c). In the next few days, several exchanges of fire between South Ossetian forces and Georgian Interior Ministry troops were reported. Georgia put the blame for the tense situation squarely on Kokoity and threatened to ‘force Kokoity to express regret’ for humiliating Georgians and called him ‘a criminal’ (RFE/RL Newsline 9 July 2004). Kokoity ordered defence reinforcement around

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Tskhinvali (the capital of South Ossetia) and Russian peacekeepers twice intercepted Georgian Interior Ministry troops. Lavrov said that Georgia provoked the situation when it ‘illegally brought its military units there’ (RFE/RL Newsline 12 July 2004). Georgia refused to return the 200 Russian missiles that had been seized from the Russian convoy in South Ossetia and the duelling over the confiscated missiles continued. Sergey Ivanov stated that the situation ‘became explosive when Georgia failed to keep its obligation concerning peacekeeping in the conflict zone’, while Saakashvili asked the Georgian military to be prepared to fight ‘foreign invaders’, threatening that ‘[i]f they want to come to Georgia and spill blood, then let them come’ (RFE/RL Newsline 14 July 2004; see also Felgenhauer 2004c; Arnold 2004c; Dzhindzhikhashvili 2004d). Russia called the statement ‘bewildering and unacceptable’. Kokoity said that ‘[w]e are now at the brink of an armed conflict and we believe every effort must be made to . . . sit down at the negotiating table’ (RFE/RL Newsline 14 July 2004). At a JCC meeting, Georgia insisted on the total demilitarization of South Ossetia, which was called ‘an enclave of bandit groups, stuffed with weaponry’ (RFE/RL Newsline 15 July 2004; Lawless 2004). Russia insisted that demilitarization must apply equally to South Ossetian and Georgian illegal armed groups. After another JCC meeting, Georgia and South Ossetia signed a protocol that affirmed their intention to withdraw all military forces except the peacekeepers from the conflict zone (RFE/RL Newsline 16 July 2004). Saakashvili did not contribute to defusing the tension by stating that ‘sooner or later’ South Ossetia would be ‘smoothly and calmly’ integrated into the Georgian state, and that ‘we are strong enough to repulse any provocations’. He also said that Georgia would not withdraw its Interior Ministry troops or dismantle the extra checkpoints in South Ossetia (RFE/RL Newsline 19 July 2004). Kokoity responded that this would ‘lead to a war’, and that South Ossetia would ‘take appropriate steps’ in response to a Georgian aggression (RFE/RL Newsline 21 July 2004). A couple of days later, there were some softening signs on both sides when Georgia returned the confiscated missiles, but positions were locked; Saakashvili asked OSCE to prevent Russia from supplying ‘huge quantities’ of arms to South Ossetia (RFE/RL Newsline 27 July 2004; Devdariani 2004c). After an exchange of fire for several hours, including artillery fire, some moderating voices were being heard in Georgia, and the JCC agreed to establish a joint Russian–Georgian–Ossetian checkpoint near the South Ossetian capital Tskhinvali. Russia warned that the recent fighting could escalate into a new armed confrontation and asked Georgia to withdraw its superfluous Interior Ministry troops from the conflict zone (promised in June). Despite the armed clashes, there seemed to be some hope of improvement. The OSCE decided to increase its number of observers along the border between South Ossetia and Georgia proper, and the Georgian Defence Minister went to Moscow to review the Abkhazian and South Ossetian situations with the purpose ‘to settle issues confronting Georgia and Russia’, declaring that Georgia ‘will not permit an armed conflict’ to erupt in South Ossetia or Abkhazia, that ‘Georgia will resolve the conflict by peaceful means’. A joint agreement was

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then made for the withdrawal of all but legitimate peacekeeping troops from the conflict area (RFE/RL Newsline 12 August 2004).23 The next day, renewed clashes between Georgian and South Ossetian forces involved artillery, mortar and anti-aircraft fire, with a few casualties and many wounded. The convening of ‘an emergency meeting’ of the JCC was called for, and an emergency meeting of the Georgian National Security Council was held, where Russia was asked to ‘decide once and for all that it is indeed a peacekeeper’. Georgia now sought the internationalizing of the peacekeeping forces (RFE/RL Newsline 13 August 2004; Dzhindzhikhashvili 2004e). After talks between the United States and Russian Defence Ministers, Sergey Ivanov said that the situation ‘is developing rapidly into a dangerous scenario’. Ivanov characterized Georgian accusations that Russian peacekeepers were biased as ‘nonsense’ and also denounced calls for the OSCE monitoring group, stating that ‘[t]he threat of a resurgence of a military conflict lies exactly in the place from which calls for the internationalization of the peacekeeping operation originate’. The Georgian Parliament criticized the Russian peacekeepers for ‘condon[ing] smuggling’ and Russia for using them ‘as a means of preserving its political influence’ in the south Caucasus so as to exert ‘pressure on a sovereign state’. Sergey Ivanov immediately rejected this as ‘nonsense’. A JCC meeting ended with a cease-fire agreement, but new shooting with casualties continued nevertheless (RFE/RL Newsline 16 August 2004). Cease-fire violations continued with more casualties. The OSCE, the EU and the United States called for ‘more vigorous efforts’ to prevent an escalation of the conflict. Sergey Ivanov said that Russia ‘do[es] not need a war near our border’, but he also reminded that ‘most South Ossetia residents are citizens of Russia and we should care about them’. The South Ossetian side continued to violate the cease-fire agreement with more casualties among Georgian peacekeepers. There were too many irregulars operating in the region, of course, and the Georgian and South Ossetian defence ministers met to discuss the role of this ‘third force’ which carried out attacks on Georgians and thus ‘prevent[ed] the parties from fulfilling the cease-fire agreement’ (RFE/RL Newsline 18 August 2004). While Putin himself had kept a low profile in the conflict so far, in Sochi he said that Russia was ready to mediate and serve as guarantor of any agreements that might be reached, that Russia was neutral in the conflict. ‘From time to time we hear the assertion that the conflict is taking the form of a Russian–Georgian confrontation,’ Putin said, ‘[b]ut it is not like this and it cannot be like this’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 August 2004). Seven more Georgian peacekeepers were killed and there seemed to be no end to the evil circle. Russia blamed the central Georgian government for ‘unleashing combat operations’ and called for ‘tough measures to be taken against those who consciously violate the accords that have been reached’. A formal note also said that ‘the time left for stopping movement along this dangerous and risky path is growing shorter and shorter’. Saakashvili assured that he wanted ‘to use all methods to avoid conflict and use what is a last chance for achieving peace’ (RFE/RL Newsline 20 August 2004; Bagrov 2004).

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After this, the situation seemed to brighten again; excess Georgian units were withdrawn, and the joint Russian–Georgian–Ossetian peacekeeping force together with OSCE observers began searching for ‘third forces’. Both the United States and OSCE hailed the development, but also urged the parties to take up negotiations again. International involvement in the peace process was also beginning to show (RFE/RL Newsline 23 August 2004; RFE/RL Newsline 24 August 2004; Dzhindzhikhashvili 2004f; Torbakov 2004g). In his address to the UN General Assembly in September 2004 (see the section above on Abkhazia), Saakashvili committed Georgia to resolving its conflicts with Abkhazia and South Ossetia solely by peaceful means (RFE/RL Newsline 22 September 2004). South Ossetia (as well as Abkhazia) categorically rejected the proposals, saying that it would ‘under no circumstances become part of a Georgian state’ (RFE/RL Newsline 23 September 2004). In October, Russia was accused of supporting ‘separatism’ in South Ossetia and Abkhazia: ‘It is impossible to fight separatism in Chechnya and support it several kilometres from its border, in Georgia’ (RFE/RL Newsline 8 October 2004). During a seven-hour meeting of the JCC in Tbilisi, it was agreed to hold the proposed meeting in Sochi, at which Georgia and South Ossetia signed a new agreement on demilitarization under which Georgia would dismantle military installations and withdraw the 2,000 men Georgia had pledged to withdraw three months earlier. The political status of South Ossetia was not discussed (Devdariani 2004e; Peucht 2004b). The dismantling process dragged on and the agreement was only partly implemented. In January 2005, in a new proposal, Saakashvili promised Ossetians ‘everything they want’, more autonomy than North Ossetia had within the Russian Federation, but again also indicated that Georgia might indeed use non-peaceful means if the conflict was not solved peacefully (RFE/RL Newsline 25 January 2005). Kokoity rejected the proposal and repeated the old formula that the status of South Ossetia had been decided in the independence referendum in 1992 and that 95 per cent of the population already had Russian passports. While the United States approved of the proposal, Russia was somewhat more hesitant, although not rejecting it altogether (RFE/RL Newsline 27 January 2005). The effect of Saakashvili’s proposal was contradicted also by open threats to use armed force if the conflicts in Abkhazia and South Ossetia were not solved peacefully (RFE/RL Newsline 31 January 2005). The double talk continued, but there were some new arguments as well. In March, Saakashvili urged South Ossetia and Abkhazia to consider a model used for South Tyrol in Italy, which turned out to be similar to the earlier January proposal (RFE/RL Newsline 10 March 2005). This was Saakashvili’s third attempt to put a new proposal on the agenda, rejected all three times (Corso 2005d; Freese 2005a, 2005b, 2005c). The demilitarization of the conflict zone as agreed in Sochi continued, although the process was slow (RFE/RL Newsline 31 January 2005). In September, there was also some more threatening language used both in Russia and Georgia. In the meantime, and parallel to the negotiations on the status of South

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Ossetia, abductions and armed violence continued in spring 2005 involving telephone negotiations on the highest political levels (Peucht 2005a; Freese 2005a). In May, there were more killings of Ossetian and Georgian policemen and four Georgian civilians were kidnapped in retaliation. All sides blamed each other, and in its footsteps other incidents were inevitable. Georgia even accused Russia of involvement in bombings (RFE/RL Newsline 18 July 2005; Freese 2005c). Georgian counter-abductions followed in August, which the South Ossetian leadership blamed directly on Georgian special services. In September, an artillery attack was blamed on Russia. Russia sent an official protest to Georgia for its retaliatory fire, the United States also protested, and the OSCE called for immediate disarmament in the zone. Partly as a consequence of all this, the Georgian Parliament drafted a resolution on the withdrawal of the Russian peacekeepers from both South Ossetia and Abkhazia since ‘they do not fulfil their mandate’. As a result, another round of abuse from all sides in the conflict was launched, especially since the Russian peacekeepers were accused of ignoring murders, abductions, smuggling, arms trafficking and other crimes (RFE/RL Newsline 30 September 2005). An artillery attack on the South Ossetian capital in late September further fed the flames of the conflict. In October, after a lengthy debate in the Georgian Parliament, a resolution was finally approved to the effect that Russian peacekeepers should behave according to their mandate or else face replacement by an international force. In November, the new Georgian National Military Strategy was made official with its claim that the Russian peacekeepers in South Ossetia and Abkhazia constituted a ‘threat to its security’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 December 2005). New abductions on both sides followed, and a Russian–Georgian foreign minister meeting tried to defuse the tension. Kokoity presented an alternative peace plan (to Saakashvili’s peace plans earlier in the year) in a letter to Putin and Saakashvili. The plan was, in effect, an endorsement of Saakashvili’s October plan to solve the conflict in three stages, with a first stage of demilitarization and confidence-building measures, followed by a second stage of social and economic reconstruction, and only as a third stage a decision on the political status of South Ossetia. The proposal was hailed both in Moscow and in Tbilisi, and the JCC was infused with new enthusiasm. In early 2006, however, there was again a repetition of the earlier pattern of rejecting talks on the status of South Ossetia. Like in Abkhazia, Georgia claimed that Russian peacekeepers ‘are not fulfilling their mandate’ (RFE/RL Newsline 18 January 2006 and RFE/RL Newsline 7 February 2006). After discussions on the Russian peacekeepers, the Georgian Parliament finally voted for their withdrawal.24 Russia and South Ossetia continued to claim that it would be disastrous to withdraw Russian peacekeepers from South Ossetia (RFE/RL Newsline 30 March 2006; RFE/RL Newsline 18 April 2006). In June and July, Lavrov accused Georgia of planning an attack on South Ossetia (while Georgia accused South Ossetia of planning attacks on Georgian forces) (RFE/RL Newsline 2 June 2006; Saradzhyan 2006). Russia warned Georgia against a military invasion of South Ossetia (RFE/RL Newsline 17 July 2006), just before the Georgian Parliament again voted for the expulsion of Russian peacekeepers in South Ossetia.25

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In August, South Ossetia began to issue passports of its own and planned a referendum on its status. In September, the tension increased because of referendum preparations (Kurashvili 2006; Blagov 2006c), and renewed violence erupted and South Ossetian troops fired on a helicopter in which the Georgian Defence Minister was travelling. Georgia again proposed international peacekeeping forces in South Ossetia to replace the Russian forces and announced a ‘new road map’ that included a demilitarization of South Ossetia (and Abkhazia) (RFE/RL Newsline 25 September 2006).26 In November, Kokoity was re-elected for a second term and a South Ossetian referendum confirmed the support for independence. Georgia called for a new format to the negotiations since the JCC was deemed ineffective (RFE/RL Newsline 6 December 2006). The negotiations seemed stalled once again. In conclusion, the Russian Foreign and Defence Ministries were heavily involved in the South Ossetia conflict while Putin held a fairly low profile in the conflict that developed after the ‘rose revolution’. The relative calm in South Ossetia in Putin’s first term was mostly a reflection of the fact that Georgia had lost control over the region, and as in Abkhazia, the many local interested parties had begun to treat the region as their own fiefdom. The Georgian reassertiveness since 2004 could not but meet strong resistance in Abkhazia and South Ossetia. The international community that hitherto had shown little interest in South Ossetia (as opposed to Abkhazia) now seemed to have sided with the Georgian government and left Russia fairly alone on the side of the South Ossetians: Russia has ended up on the wrong side, again, not necessarily by design. Negotiations are still being interrupted by the whims of the South Ossetian leadership, and frequent violent eruptions and military movements in the region make any agreement difficult to foresee.

9.6 Energy issues – gas and electricity Georgia has also suffered from the energy networks established under Soviet rule and has been totally dependent on Russian and Armenian electricity supplies (Pamir 2004: 126). To ensure a safe and steady gas supply, Georgia has in recent years therefore been interested in diversifying imports while Russia has been equally resistant to ease its grip over the energy sector. Energy issues became strongly politicized in Georgia in summer 2003, when Georgia signed a 25-year framework cooperation agreement with Gazprom, according to which Gazprom would supply Georgia with gas, renovate its pipelines, and also to export gas to Armenia. Georgia did not cede control of its pipelines, though.27 The agreement was never ratified because of strong Georgian parliamentary opposition, and the revolutionary development closer to the end of the year postponed the project. Electricity too became a source of Georgian domestic conflict in summer 2003 when a subsidiary company of Russia’s Unified Energy Systems (UES) acquired a 75 per cent share in a Georgian electricity distribution company

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(bought from an American company). Since then, the UES controls not only the electricity system of Georgia, but also the right to manage several power plants (the Khrami-1 and Khrami-2 power stations) and owns 50 per cent of the Transenergy nuclear power plant and all of the Mtkvari power plant. The head of the UES, Anatoly Chubais, stressed in talks with the Georgian leadership that the acquisition of the Georgian electricity company was the result of purely commercial rather than political interests, and that Russia would not blackmail Georgia by threatening to cut off supplies (RFE/RL Newsline 7 August 2003). While Shevardnadze welcomed the Russian acquisitions, his domestic opponents rather saw in it a Russian drive to control Georgia’s strategic infrastructure, aimed to restore its geopolitical dominance: ‘[t]his time [Russia is] using banks rather than tanks’ (Georgian parliamentarian quoted in Khachatrian 2003). The Russian economic offensive in Georgia was seen as yet another attempt to use the only ‘true ally’ of Russia, its enormous natural resources, as an instrument to increase Russian leverage in the Caucasus: the UES acquisitions correspond to similar acquisitions elsewhere in the former Soviet space. They also correspond to the ideas of its CEO, Chubais, to establish a ‘liberal empire’ in Eurasia (Torbakov 2003d). In May 2004, Fradkov promised that Russia would increase electricity supplies and participate in joint ventures in the oil, gas and transport sectors in Georgia. In June, the Russian Economic Development and Trade Minister German Gref went to Tbilisi together with some 100 Russian businessmen to participate in a Georgian–Russian business forum. By now, Georgian analysts debated whether or not Putin’s new policies suggested a change of tactics of ‘keeping Tbilisi under its thumb by means of private sector investment into key sectors of the Georgian economy’. The UES’ attempt to take control of the electricity distribution and Gazprom’s attempt to seek monopoly status with respect to gas deliveries were seen as the key instruments in this strategy (Areshidze 2004a). In January 2005 (when relations were again at a low), a Russian– Georgian consortium purchased a manganese plant and another hydroelectric power station, while Russia’s Vneshtorgbank acquired a majority share in the United Bank of Georgia. Gazprom now bought the main Georgian gas pipeline that had been agreed upon in principle two years earlier, and in exchange part of Georgia’s debt to Russia was restructured. Saakashvili was accused of selling out Georgian strategic assets, and even his close associates complained about the deal.28 In summer, energy pricing became an issue in the relationship when the Russian Duma (in response to the Georgian Parliament decision to oust Russian peacekeepers) proposed that Russia stopped its ‘gas socialism’ and ‘special treatment’ (i.e. low pricing) (RFE/RL Newsline 11 July 2005). In November, Gazprom announced that it would raise gas prices also for Georgia (and Armenia) in 2006 (RFE/RL Newsline 30 November 2005; Corwin 2005).29 Georgia depends almost 100 per cent on Russian gas, which was directly felt with the gas pipeline sabotage which closed the Russian gas pipeline to Armenia and Georgia in January 2006. Georgia accused Russia of sabotaging its own gas pipeline in order to take over the Georgian pipeline (RFE/RL Newsline

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24 January 2006; Petriashvili 2006a; Yasmann 2006a). Saakashvili blamed ‘dark barbaric forces’ for sabotage of the gas pipelines (RFE/RL Newsline 27 January 2006).30 It is quite likely, though, that the pipeline was simply worn out.31 One effect was, however, that Georgia would try to buy more gas from Azerbaijan from 2007. Gas pricing hit the relationship in late fall, and Gazprom suggested a price level of US$230 per 1,000 cubic metres (instead of the US$110 paid in 2006), or a cheaper price in exchange for stakes in the Georgian energy sector. Georgia did not give in to the ‘energy blackmail’ and settled for the high gas price (RFE/RL Newsline 8 November 2006; RFE/RL Newsline 27 December 2006).

9.7 Russia and Georgia – summary and conclusions By the time Putin entered the Kremlin, Russian–Georgian relations were still infected by some of the more serious problems of the break-up of the USSR. At the same time, relations were affected by the ongoing oil and gas race to the Caspian Sea, the new Chechnya war, the general political and social and economic instability of the area. Even apart from the more than decade-long trouble-spots of the breakaway republics of Abkhazia and South Ossetia, the other sour spots, e.g. the Chechen warriors crossing the border between Russia (Chechnya) and Georgia, the military bases left in Georgia, or the Georgian energy dependence on Russia were quite enough to hinder relations. September 11 moods inspired Russia to show a more aggressive approach to the Pankisi Gorge problem and there were strong inclinations among the Russian military to solve the problem the same way the United States solved the problems of the Taliban in Afghanistan. The strong US resistance to a Russian military operation on Georgian territory showed to Russia the negative side of being ‘partner’ to a giant. Another general problem in the relationship is the many actors with different objectives and aspirations within the Georgian state which makes negotiations on any issue difficult. The interest of the USA itself in the region after 11 September has changed the scenery, and the fact that there are ‘terrorists’ on both the Georgian and Russian side of the conflict has also made US involvement more delicate. The post-11 September mood has not really helped in distinguishing the ‘good’ from the ‘bad’. Fighting between Abkhaz military and militia forces and Georgian paramilitary forces has occurred from time to time, and all parties, including Russian peacekeepers, are involved in the only lucrative business in the area, smuggling, which makes solutions to the problem even more difficult. As opposed to Abkhazia, South Ossetia has been fairly calm up to Putin’s second term. Here, too, actors are many, and it is not always clear what their bottom-line objectives are. A mixture of political, economic, social, cultural and purely criminal interests makes certain that there are no easily negotiated solutions. The Russian peacekeeping forces both in Abkhazia and South Ossetia have both had a stabilizing effect and at the same time acted fairly independently from the Kremlin, increasing the confusion. In Russia’s relations with

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Georgia, there are thus all the ingredients of a continued drama: old nationalist, ethnic, religious and political conflicts, flavoured with hegemonic global and regional great power involvement, and with a dose of international terrorism, make any prediction of the future uncertain. In fact, Russia seems to prefer ‘manageable instability’ or an ‘inconclusive status quo’ (Buzan and Waever 2003: 420). The negotiation situation in Abkhazia and South Ossetia seemed as bleak by the end of 2006 as it ever had been.

10 The Caucasus, the EU, NATO and the United States

10.1 Caucasus, NATO and the United States The EU, United States and NATO have all made several inroads into south Caucasus after 11 September, and while the three south Caucasus countries have all to various degrees welcomed it, it was basically Russia’s own better relations with the United States and NATO after 11 September that ‘opened the gates’ for these ‘Western’ actors into the region. The USA sent military advisers to Georgia and lifted its arms embargos (since 1993) on Armenia and Azerbaijan (Torbakov 2002b; Danielyan 2002c). NATO had flirted with all three Caucasus states since 1997 (Black 2004: 229), and both Georgia and Azerbaijan are heading for NATO membership. The desire for membership was boosted by NATO Secretary-General Robertson’s comment that NATO’s doors ‘remain open’, although the road ahead was ‘long and tough’ (Derdaraini 2003a). Of course, Russia has been worried about the possibility of actually ‘losing’ Georgia and Azerbaijan to NATO (Torbakov 2003c). Below, I describe these ‘Westernization’ developments in Armenia, Azerbaijan and in Georgia. While Armenia has tried to keep a balance between Russia and the West ever since 1992 (Coppieters 1998: 56), the post-11 September mood has affected also Armenia – and to some small extent also its relations with NATO, the United States and Russia. Armenian leaders have repeatedly stressed that Armenia is not seeking NATO membership and there has not been any serious debate about that possibility in the country; Russia is too close a partner and too close a security provider to even risk the possibility of losing it. Armenia has been taking part in related NATO activities, though, and Armenia is a member of the PfP.1 In late 2003 and all through 2004, Armenia’s contacts with NATO and the United States intensified, and there were even talks about possible bilateral Armenia–US military exercises. Armenia decided to draft an Individual Partnership Action Plan – IPAP, the closest relation possible with NATO short of membership – to formalize and further its relations with NATO. In November 2004, the NATO Secretary-General Jaap de Hoop Scheffer visited Armenia and described its relations with NATO as ‘developing very well indeed’ (RFE/RL Newsline 8 November 2004). In June 2005, the IPAP was presented: it contained three key issues, institutionalizing NATO–Armenian

The Caucasus 155 relations, reforming Armenia’s defence system and participation in NATO peacekeeping operations. In December, NATO formally approved the IPAP. Armenia’s deepened relations with NATO were repeatedly said not to be at the expense of relations with Russia, and the relations with NATO did not seem to have a negative impact on Armenia’s relations with the CSTO either. In May 2006, Kocharian again emphasized that Armenia would not join NATO (RFE/RL Newsline 3 May 2006). Armenia’s relations with the United States have also developed fairly well and not to the detriment of relations with Russia. In March 2005, Armenia signed an action plan for participation in the US Millennium Challenge programme for a total of US$900 million (but the USA reduced the sum to US$175 million). In July, the USA prolonged an aid programme on law enforcement, initiated in 2001. In December 2005, the United States offered an aid package of US$235 million (over five years) for infrastructural projects, although conditioned on developments in the field of Armenian human rights and democracy. The 2007 imbursement was conditioned in the same terms. Azerbaijan has been drawn closer to NATO and the USA over the years, against the backdrop of a closer relationship also with Russia. This dual policy of Azerbaijan can only be explained in terms of the ‘great game’ for energy resources and pipelines and the need for all parties to stay friends with major participants in this game. Azerbaijan has been taking part in both NATO activities and in the PfP. After the United States cancelled its trade restrictions in 2002, Russia has been somewhat worried about the Azeri closer relations with the USA and with Turkey. In April 2004, President Aliev for the first time publicly stated that Azerbaijan would apply for NATO membership, that it had quietly been implementing all the necessary measures needed to qualify for membership (RFE/RL Newsline 22 April 2004). The official Russian response was cautious, suggesting that a membership would still be only far into the future and that a ‘great deal depends on the terms of admission, the time frame of admission, how the process of NATO’s own transformation from a military bloc into a political organization goes, and many other issues’ (RFE/RL Newsline 24 April 2004). In May, Aliev submitted Azerbaijan’s IPAP (Individual Partnership Action Plan) for future cooperation with NATO. The relationship with NATO was not altogether without its problems, though; in September, there were some serious hang-ups in Azerbaijan’s NATO relations due to a NATO invitation also to Armenia for joint military PfP exercises (and later also in a NATO seminar on Caucasus security in Baku when Azerbaijan refused to issue visas).2 In 2005, the upcoming elections and the harsh situation for the Azeri opposition basically froze relations with NATO, and in spring 2006 the IPAP was reviewed. NATO was worried about the situation in Nagorno-Karabakh. Azerbaijan’s relations to the United States were also quite harmonious up to 2005. For one thing, Azerbaijan has allowed US transit flights and sent troops to Afghanistan in November 2002 (RFE/RL Azerbaijan Report 22 November

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2002). From late 2003 and in the first half of 2004, there was much talk of bilateral military cooperation with the United States. Some of the offered US assistance was directly connected to energy interests in the Caspian Sea and energy security; rumours of a US military base were in the air for a long time to come, refuted by both the USA and Azerbaijan. When the US Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld visited Baku both in December 2003, in August 2004 and in April 2005, he thanked Azerbaijan for its assistance in the ‘war on terrorism’ and for its troop deployments in Kosovo, Afghanistan and Iraq (RFE/RL Newsline 11 August 2004). The US–Azeri relationship took a turn for the worse in connection with the Azeri elections in 2005. In May that year, Azeri police resorted to violence against a demonstration in Baku, resulting in severe US protests. The closer the elections, the more frequent were the visits by US senators who warned of unfair elections. Despite some changes in the Azeri election laws in June and October 2005, they were deemed unsatisfying (Girogosian 2005). The elections were violent and the United States was very concerned. In spring 2006, Aliev met with President Bush in Washington, and talks included energy security, Nagorno-Karabakh and Iran. The one country in south Caucasus that has been a serious candidate for NATO membership in response to its own security problems is Georgia, which opted for NATO assistance in 1992 (Coppieters 1998: 56, 60–62). Georgia had also been the main beneficiary of military assistance from NATO, which had provided US$20 million worth of equipment each year since 1998 (Kuzio 2001; Devdariani 2003a). In 2000, Georgia announced its intention for NATO membership, and at the November 2002 NATO summit in Prague, Shevardnadze made an official bid for membership (Peuch 2002). Later, he predicted that it would take Georgia ‘more than one or two years’ to reach the standards required by NATO (RFE/RL Newsline 5 February 2003). In March 2003, Georgia was accepted as a NATO aspirant, although NATO officials stated that Georgia still had a ‘very long road ahead’ before it could be accepted as a member (RFE/RL Newsline 6 May 2003). Georgia was unlikely to join NATO before 2010. In April 2004, the new Georgian president Saakashvili went to Brussels to hand over Georgia’s IPAP with NATO as a way of ‘taking concrete steps to join the alliance’ (RFE/RL Newsline 7 April 2004). At the Istanbul NATO summit in June the same year, the heads of state expressed their intent of ‘engaging with our partners in the strategically important regions of the Caucasus and Central Asia’ and welcomed the decision by Georgia (as well as Azerbaijan and Uzbekistan) to develop Individual Partnership Action Plans with NATO (RFE/RL Newsline 29 June 2004; RFE/RL Caucasus Report 2 July 2004). In November, the North Atlantic Council approved the Georgian, first ever IPAP. There were different bids about the timetable for Georgian membership in NATO. Saakashvili predicted that Georgia would do so ‘while I am president’, while NATO itself said that Georgia ‘has a long way to go’ before it qualifies for NATO membership (RFE/RL Newsline 5 November 2004).3

The Caucasus 157 During his visit to Georgia in May 2005, President Bush stopped short of endorsing Georgia’s NATO membership (Fuller 2005e). In all of this, Russia kept a formal attitude outwardly, but in essence Russia was not accepting Georgia’s (and Ukraine’s) escape to NATO; in September 2005, Sergey Ivanov threatened that Russia would change its policies towards both Ukraine and Georgia should they decide to join NATO, and that these changes would ‘not touch only on the military aspects’ (RFE/RL Newsline 14 September 2005). In February 2006, Saakashvili appealed to be accepted into NATO to expedite solutions to the Abkhazian and South Ossetia conflicts and left the CIS defence group to facilitate the entrance (RFE/RL Newsline 6 February 2006; Dzhindzhikashvili 2006a), and expressed his hope to join NATO in 2008 (RFE/RL Newsline 15 February 2006). Georgia’s relations to the United States have also caused some Russian shivers of anger. While Russia grudgingly accepted the training assistance – the ‘Train and Equip’ programme – of border troops from the United States in 2002 (Devdariani 2002a; Fawn 2003: 138), there were some other issues that fed the negative spiralling. For example, just before the Iraq war in March 2003, Shevardnadze had offered the US air bases in Georgia for attacks on Iraq. The very fact of Georgian open support of the US attack on Iraq further fertilized the tension (see Kandelaki 2003; Miller 2003).4 In summer 2003, when Russian-Georgian tension was at a peak due to the Pankisi Gorge battle, Russia reacted strongly to US reconnaissance flights, although such reconnaissance flights had taken place before. This one was, according to the Russian military, ‘even more alarming’ than earlier ones (RFE/RL Newsline 10 July 2003; Kandelaki 2003).5 After the ‘rose revolution’ in Georgia, the US–Georgian relationship went into a new positive spin. Although the new Georgian leadership chose first to visit Moscow, shortly afterwards, in February, there was a very pompous Georgian five-day state visit to the United States. Saakashvili noted that the US ‘Train and Equip’ programme (that was about to end) would not be the end to assistance, since the USA would continue to train ‘thousands’ of Georgian service personnel (RFE/RL Newsline 25 February 2004). Indeed, in March, Georgia and the USA signed a new bilateral agreement on security assistance under which the USA would provide almost US$2.5 million to reform and modernize Georgian lawenforcement agencies. The US Secretary of State Powell explained that the US military instructors were in Georgia to help it ‘organize better protection of its territory’ and ‘provide security in the Pankisi Gorge, because it is there where terrorist activities that threaten Russia are taking place’. He also said that the United States was not trying to ‘squeeze Russia out of the Caucasus’ which was not altogether convincing to the Russian ear (RFE/RL Newsline 26 January 2004).6 In July 2006, Saakashvili visited the United States and was promised more funding for the Georgian military and also signed a military training agreement with some US$40 million. Saakashvili called the renewed discussions with NATO a ‘breakthrough’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 September 2006). The NATO summit in November 2006 did give some hope in aiming for mid-2007 for Georgia to qualify for a Membership Action Plan.

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10.2 Caucasus and the EU The Caucasus has not been of very much concern to the European Union, although since 1996 there have been cooperation agreements with Azerbaijan, Armenia and Georgia. The EU has made some attempts at engagement in the region of late, though. In July 2003, the EU appointed a special representative for the south Caucasus to assist the countries of the south Caucasus to carry out political and economic reforms, to resolve conflicts, promote the return of refugees and engage with neighbouring regional states and support intraregional cooperation. Armenia’s relations with the European Union developed further in 2004 and 2005, when the EU (in June 2004) decided to include also the three south Caucasus states in its European Neighbourhood Policy – ENP. In March 2005, a EU country report was presented, which included promotion of democratic elections, the rule of law, respect for human rights, anti-corruption measures, economic reform work, and actual closure of the Medzamor nuclear plant. The EU started negotiations on the action plans somewhat belatedly, and the action plan was approved in December 2006 for Armenia as well as for the other two Caucasus states. Azeri relations with the EU also took a turn for the better when the EU decided (in summer 2004) to include Azerbaijan in the ENP. The country report in spring 2005 emphasized the rule of law, democracy and constitutional reform, observance of human rights and independence of media. In the foreplay to the violent parliamentary elections in November 2005, these EU demands were intensely employed also by the Council of Europe and the OSCE, and some changes in the election procedures were made as a result. The EU itself even threatened to exclude Azerbaijan from talks on the Action Plan if fundamental election procedures were violated. In April 2006, a EU delegation met Aliev and demanded political reforms (RFE/RL Newsline 24 April 2006), and in December the Action plan was approved. Georgian relations with the EU had been fairly low-key, as in the case of the other two Caucasus states. But like them, the EU included Georgia in its ENP in summer 2004, and with the same stress on democracy, pluralism and respect for rule of law and human rights. The Action Plan was finalized in December 2006. In conclusion, while external actors have been present for a long time in the Caucasus, in the Yeltsin era there were basically three types of actors, the neighbouring countries Iran and Turkey, and attempts by various European states and the United States to get involved. The latter constituted real competition to Russia in the region. The European Union has of late tried to establish relations with the three Caucasus states. However, the real penetration of ‘external’ forces occurred only in Putin’s reign, and especially after 11 September with its renewed opportunities to remake the maps of alliances. True, the initiative was largely on the US side; arms embargoes were lifted and military aid changed the situation also with

The Caucasus 159 respect to ‘hard security’. Support for the Afghanistan and Iraq military operations was forthcoming from all three (although fairly limited). The United States has got increasingly involved in most spheres of society, but particularly in police, border and military activities. The major impediment to US involvement has been the slow development of democracy in the region. Of these relationships with the USA, it is basically only the American relations with Georgia that have caused irritation in Moscow. All three Caucasus states have PfP membership and have been involved in PfP exercises. The Azeri NATO membership plans in spring 2003 were probably more surprising than the Georgian plans advocated since fall 2002. In 2004, both these states signed the IPAPs and by late 2006 at least Georgia is on the road towards NATO membership, while Azerbaijan has been held up in the process. In late 2005, Armenia also signed an IPAP and in the last couple of years heightened its relations with NATO, but there is no talk of a membership application. Of the three, Georgia is in direct need of a NATO protective shield and the realization of this fact in the West in 2006 might speed up an accession. The EU has also become more involved in the Caucasus during Putin’s reign, particularly in attempts to carry out political and economic reforms. The inclusion of all three Caucasus states in the European Neighbourhood Policy is of major importance here, as are the Action Plans which point in the direction of a new attention of Europe to this Russian sub-complex.

Part IV

Russia and the Asian regional sub-complex Relations with Kyrgyztan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan

Introduction Central Asia as a distinct region is both old and new and has in large parts until quite recently been inhabited mainly with nomadic peoples.1 The first dynasty in today’s Central Asia was at its height in the eighth century BC, later conquered by Persian tribes and then invaded in the second century BC by the Huns from the east. Then Turkish tribes invaded, only to be conquered in the seventh century AD by the Arabs who created the Islamic centre of the East in Bukhara (which Persians in the ninth and tenth centuries made their capital). In the eleventh century, Turks created an enormously wide empire that dominated Central Asia, Persia and the Middle East for two centuries, conquered in turn in the thirteenth century by the Mongols (who created the largest land-based empire in world history stretching from the Pacific Ocean to eastern Europe and the Middle East). Timur Lenk, of Turkmen origin, freed the region from the Mongols by the end of the fourteenth century and created an empire with Samarkand as its capital. This new empire lasted until the Silk Road had become obsolete in the sixteenth century, and by the seventeenth century Uzbek tribes ruled three khanates (Kokand in the Ferghana Valley, the Bukhara and the Khiva khanates). Kazakh nomads constantly attacked the khanates and weakened them, and in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries nomadic Kalmyks (from Mongolia) raided the area. Some of the Kazakhs sought support from Russia and from the end of the eighteenth century Russia controlled northern Central Asia and in the early nineteenth century also the southern part. Militarily, Russia then conquered Central Asia between 1865 and 1884 when the weakened khanates gradually gave in and Russia established itself as a colonial power in Central Asia.2 During the Russian civil war, there were several attempts to establish supremacy based on earlier capitals, but in the end there was not enough military power to withstand the Red Army. In 1924, five Central Asian entities were created, based

on anti-Islamism and nationalist policies (Steinberger 2003: 221). Only in the early 1930s did the Central Asian locals accept Russian domination and revolts ended. Central Asia had thus been under Russian rule for some 130 years upon independence in 1991. In all of Central Asia, Islam had been fairly secular and played only a limited role in its governance (Steinberger 2003: 221). Today, Central Asia is a distinct sub-complex in the Russia-centred regional security complex and developed as such from the very outset in 1992. The very concept of Central Asia is to some extent ‘artificial’ (Malashenko 1998: 158), and the very notion of Central Asia is difficult to place even geographically; it might be seen as part of Asia, part of the (greater) Middle East – its most northern tier, and it could have (but did not) become an arena for a great game between Iran, Turkey, Russia and China after the demise of the USSR. Central Asia occupies enormous vast lands and has more than 50 million inhabitants. It is a region of both weak states and weak powers, with low interaction capacity and weak national and ethnic identities (Buzan and Waever 2003: 423–424).3 The region is locked in by Russia in the north, China in the east, and Iran and Afghanistan in the south, sparsely populated and extremely poor. Russian interest (and of late also that of other great powers) has been concentrated on energy resources. The ‘outer borders’ of Central Asia have been guarded by Russian border troops since 1991. Border conflicts in Central Asia abound, especially in the Ferghana Valley where Kyrgyztan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan meet. Stalin himself carved out the territories on a map (Trenin 2002: 187). Borders are generally not demarcated and often not even delimited. The most general problem of the region is not the borders as such but rather the fact that state borders do not correspond to clan borders.4 Related to the clan structure, in all Central Asian states, independence came from above and the Communist Party leaders of 1989 were still in power a decade later; the presidents of Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan were former Communist Party first secretaries and they all believe themselves to be as much philosophers as presidents (Smith et al. 1998: 77). Democratic development lasted only for a short time after 1991 before it faded away, and the ‘skeletons’ of the Communist Party have remained (Smith et al. 1998: 80, 83). All five Central Asian states are thus ‘neo-khanates’ ruled by authoritarian maffia-like regimes (Gleason 2001; Hill 2001; Rumer 2002: 3). In the very early years after the demise of the USSR, Russia was uninterested in Central Asia (as witnessed by the fact that its foreign minister Kozyrev did not visit any Central Asian state for two years) (Jackson 2003: 154). Central Asia was basically ‘lost’ to Russia, mostly because of its lack of capacity to deal with the new states (Jonson 2004: 43). Russia’s economic relations with Central Asia stagnated, trade fell sharply and investments were close to zero, although Russia remained the largest trading partner to the Central Asian states (at a lower level). Trade with the United States, Iran, Turkey and the EU increased throughout the 1990s (Jonson 2004: 46, 48). Russia reacted strongly when the Taliban took over in Afghanistan in 1996,

and Russia supported the Uzbek anti-Taliban leader in Afghanistan. The Islamist attacks in Central Asia in 1999 and 2000 increased Russia’s concern about Afghanistan as a terrorism feeding-ground ‘in a belt from Chechnya over Central Asia into Xinjiang in China’ (Jonson 2001: 113). By the time Putin came to power, Russia was already losing its role ‘as the “security manager” in Central Asia’, and Russian military troops remained only in Tajikistan and Russian border troops in Tajikistan and Kazakhstan. But after the 1999 and 2000 incursions from Afghanistan, Russia increased its influence in Uzbekistan, Kyrgyztan and Kazakhstan (Jonson 2001: 119). Already as Prime Minister in fall 1999, Putin paid greater attention to Central Asia (Jonson 2004: 63–65). Anti-terrorism brought a new dimension to Russian foreign policy towards Central Asia, something that previously had been lacking (Jonson 2004: 67). Putin used the ‘policy window’ to deal with Islamic warrior incursions and moved anti-terrorism to the top of the Russian agenda, and also invited China to take part (Jonson 2004: 80–81). The August 1999 terrorist incursions into Kyrgyztan (and Dagestan) stimulated Russia to introduce ‘international terrorism’ as the major threat and helped to establish an ‘anti-criminal coalition’ with Uzbekistan, Kyrgyztan, Tajikistan, Kazakhstan, Armenia and Belarus (Jonson 2001: 108–109). Russian interests today in Central Asia are mainly related to security and energy. Security problems in Central Asia are most often transnational rather than interstate, and linked to all features of the ‘weak state’ – corruption, trafficking, smuggling, terrorism and extremism. Another issue in Russia’s relations to Central Asia is the ten million Russians remaining there after the break-up of the USSR. Half of them live in northern Kazakhstan, which has the most heavily concentrated Russian population outside Russia and Ukraine. In the attempt to find a national identity, ‘language politics’ in the form of adopting language laws became common in 1989 and 1990 as a first vehicle to nationalize the five Central Asian states. The Russian language was recognized as the language of ‘inter-ethnic communication’ though, but Russians were soon removed from all administrative positions (Smith et al. 1998: 150–151). Many Russians left in the 1989–96 period (from Tajikistan 52 per cent, from Uzbekistan 23 per cent, from Kyrgyztan 23 per cent, from Turkmenistan 21 per cent and from Kazakhstan 12 per cent) (Smith et al. 1998: 206). Many remained nevertheless, and in 1997 there were 32 per cent Russians in Kazakhstan, 15 per cent in Kyrgyztan and 7 per cent in Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan respectively (Smith et al. 1998: 153). The fact that Russians live in Central Asian states has in itself been frequently used by Russia in its dealings with these states, but it has also restrained these countries from taking too harsh a nationalist stance. Generally speaking, the ‘cultural’ question has not been as difficult as one might have expected. Up till 11 September, Russia first and China second were the most important actors in the Central Asian regional sub-complex. The United States was not very visible, although the second Clinton administration employed ‘all its instruments of power to establish itself as a major player in Central Asia’ (Blank

2001: 127). September 11 and the general Russian foreign policy volte-face towards the United States changed the situation also in Central Asia. Immediately after 11 September, Putin consulted with all Central Asian presidents to discuss cooperation in combating terrorism, and the Russian Security Council Secretary Vladimir Rushailo visited Central Asia and continued these discussions. A week later, Putin again consulted all Central Asian presidents on the international counter-terrorism campaign. Putin was in other words busy persuading (or not raising obstacles to) cooperation with the United States on the Afghanistan invasion. The general view (in Russia and elsewhere) was that Russia had allowed the United States into its very own backyard and thus lost influence there. This was not true for very long, however; while Russia certainly lost in prestige and influence in the immediate aftermath of 11 September (particularly in a perceived zero-sum game), the US engagement also ignited Russian foreign policy: a strong security and economic dimension turned out to be the glue previously missing in the Central Asian region. In the aftermath of 11 September, statements by Russian leaders and some of those in Central Asian states pointed to a cementing of regional security complex ties. This is best seen in Russian relations with those states most dependent on Russian support against Islamic fundamentalism and in the involvement of Russia, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan in support of the ‘Northern Alliance’ in Afghanistan. The threat of Islamic fundamentalism in Central Asia, and the catalysing effect of 11 September on Russian relations vis-à-vis individual Central Asian states are discussed below. The Taliban threat had been with Central Asia at least since 1996, and there were fairly widespread fears in Central Asia and Russia that the Taliban in Afghanistan would also use religion as a tool in Central Asia. In summer 2001, that fear was particularly evident in Uzbekistan. When an attempt on the life of an antiTaliban leader in Afghanistan took place just before 11 September, Russia invited officials from Iran, India, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan for urgent consultations. Immediately after 11 September, there were official warnings that a US attack on Afghanistan would result in large refugee flows into Central Asia (and eventually also into Russia). Border controls were tightened and the Russian Chief of Staff Anatoly Kvashnin claimed that the Russian regions ‘adjacent to the Central Asian states are not safe’ (RFE/RL Newsline 15 October 2001). Refugee flows and illegal migration had been a problem for quite some time already, but these problems were much more highlighted now that a ‘terrorist’ dimension was added. There were also ‘harder’ security issues, although most often dressed in the clothing of ‘anti-terrorism’ activities. The most evident example is the Kant air base in Kyrgyztan, where a rapid-reaction force has been based since 2001 and where Russia has stationed a smaller contingent of fighter aircraft and helicopters (both in the CST framework) since 2003. The CST itself, as an important instrument for integration in the region, increased in importance after 11 September and Central Asia also became an open arena for cooperation and competition between Russia, China and the United States.

In the military sphere, alignments seemed unstable and unendurable; while Russia supported (in principle) the US position in Central Asia in the name of the ‘anti-terrorism’ struggle, Russia’s later rapprochement with China had an evident anti-US edge. In the economic sphere, oil and gas production and transit have become an object of some obvious competition, on the one hand between individual Central Asian states and Russia (as competitors, buyers/sellers and as transit operators), and on the other between competing buyers (China and Japan as the most evident examples). In the cultural sphere, the normative struggle over election procedures and human rights issues after the ‘colour revolutions’ in Georgia and Ukraine spread also to Central Asia, where the most severe result was the clash between Uzbekistan and the USA after the Andijon events which eventually led to the ousting of the US military from Uzbekistan. Today, Central Asia is as much an object in world politics as it is a subject. Russia has been using the post-11 September atmosphere to re-establish its influence in Central Asia and thus picked up the glove thrown by the United States. The Iraq war offered an excellent opportunity to unite, and Russia did make good use of it to bolster its own influence. The definite victory was won with the US ‘assault on Eurasian democracy’ in 2005, which back-lashed and drew the Central Asian authoritarian regimes even closer to Russia. At the same time, the softer security problems have remained, and the Central Asian Islamic terrorist organizations, including Hizb ut-Tahrir al-Islami, Eastern Turkestan Islamic Movement, Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan, and Uighur separatists in Xinjiang in China, are all involved in narcotics trafficking. The Ferghana Valley, with its territorial mix of Uzbekistan, Kyrgyztan and Tajikistan was again ridden by violence (in Osh in southern Kyrgyztan and in Andijon in Uzbekistan), and there does not seem to be any short-term solution to those problems. As with the other chapters in this volume, Russian integration strategies in Central Asia will be traced bilaterally, and apart from the attempts that have been made in the CIS and SCO framework. First, however, the more general Central Asian problems related to the Caspian Sea are treated.

11 The Caspian Sea basin Borders, oil and gas

Politics rather than economics dominated the interests of great powers in the Caspian Sea region in the Yeltsin era, although geo-economics and geo-politics are interwoven in the Caspian Sea region (see Blank 2001: 136, 138). The demise of the USSR increased the number of independent states bordering the Caspian Sea from two (the USSR and Iran) to five (Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Russia, Turkmenistan and Iran) and thus called into question the international treaties signed on the use of the sea between the Russian Soviet Federated Socialist Republic and Iran in 1921, and the USSR and Iran in 1940. Despite numerous rounds of talks over the years, the five littoral states have still not reached agreement on a convention defining the legal status of the sea and how to divide its resources. Russia’s interests in the Caspian Sea are still as much related to strategy as to energy.1 Russia first of all wants to keep other actors out. But the border delimitation itself is directly related to the natural resources in the Caspian Sea, especially since there are resources also at the bottom of the sea. Those countries with oil close to their coasts wanted to divide the sea bottom into national zones (Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan and Azerbaijan), and those that wanted the sea open for common use (Russia up to 1998 and Iran) suggested that the resources could be divided only after an agreement among the five states had been reached. Turkmenistan has large oil and gas reserves on its shores (which has severed relations with Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan). Turkmenistan is also locked in and has had severe problems in exporting energy products to the world markets until 1998 when a gas pipeline to Iran was opened. From the mid-1990s, Russia has ‘watched with concern’ the construction of oil and gas pipelines being constructed to avoid Russian territory (Jonson 2001: 98), Russia has cooperated with Kazakhstan in the exploitation of three offshore oilfields and also in the transit of oil via the Caspian Pipeline Consortium – the CPC pipeline (which has been in operation since 2001) and via the Atyrau–Samara pipeline. The Russian Gazprom has (from 2002) become the major transporter of gas from Central Asia and also the intermediary between sellers and buyers of gas to other Central Asian states. Some of the five Caspian Sea littoral states have signed bilateral agreements on the delimitation of their respective sectors of the Caspian Sea. Russia signed

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such an agreement with Kazakhstan in 1998, and Azerbaijan did likewise with Kazakhstan in 2001 and with Russia in 2002. And those three countries then signed a trilateral agreement in May 2003 fixing the point at which their respective sectors meet. These agreements are based on the principle of dividing the seabed into national sectors, while allowing all five states the use of the waters and surface of the sea, an approach that theoretically enables each country to proceed with the extraction of hydrocarbon resources beneath the seabed. Azerbaijan has not, however, concluded comparable bilateral agreements with either Iran or Turkmenistan. While Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan and Russia advocate a division of the sea along the so-called median line, Iran rejects this approach, arguing that the Caspian Sea should be divided to give each a 20 per cent share (the median line division would give Iran the smallest share, some 14 per cent). Turkmenistan, for its part, disagrees with Azerbaijan’s criteria for determining the median line. Immediately after becoming president, Putin took an operative interest in the Caspian Sea region and in the production and transportation lines of hydrocarbon products. In April 2000, Putin made clear that Russia must strengthen its position and defend its interests in the Caspian Sea region, and that the current interests of the USA, Turkey and the UK in the region was the consequence of Russian inactivity. At the same time, he warned that the Caspian Sea region should not be turned into ‘a zone of confrontation’ (RFE/RL Newsline 25 April 2000). In May, Putin appointed Viktor Kalyuzhnyi special envoy to the Caspian Sea region, and in July Kalyuzhnyi proposed that Russia and Kazakhstan jointly develop four north Caspian oilfields located on their respective territories. Then he held discussions with Turkmenistan’s president Niyazov on how to solve the impasse on the division.2 Turkmenistan threatened to stay out of discussions until Iran was invited to participate (RFE/RL Newsline 17 July 2000). By August, it was evident that Kalyuzhnyi had failed to get support for his proposal to divide the Caspian Sea bed into national sectors. Putin on several occasions held telephone negotiations with Niyazov on how to reconcile their opposing views on the status of the Caspian Sea, to no avail (RFE/RL Newsline 29 August 2000 and RFE/RL Newsline 5 January 2001). After many attempts to arrange a summit on delimitation, there finally seemed to be one on its way in Turkmenistan in March 2001, only later to be postponed. By now, it was evident that Turkmenistan opted for dividing both the seabed, surface and waters into equal national sectors as ‘the only acceptable approach’ to defining the status of the Caspian Sea; Iran seemed to go along with this. Both Russia and Kazakhstan advocated a division only of the seabed and leaving the surface and waters in common use. Azerbaijan opposed any modification of the existing median line dividing the Azerbaijan and Turkmen sectors (RFE/RL Newsline 15 February 2001). In general then, Turkmenistan and Iran insisted on a 20 per cent share of the Caspian Sea, while Russia, Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan insisted that the Caspian Sea be divided along median lines. Although taking place at a time when the success of the Russian charm offensive in the region had become evident, the tensions arising from the

Caspian Sea basin – borders, oil and gas 169 border delimitation issue was an indication that the Caspian Sea region as such had become increasingly important also to outside actors. In April, it was agreed that the summit must again be postponed for the coming fall. The three southern Caspian Sea states – Iran, Turkmenistan and Azerbaijan – had by now developed a serious conflict that stalled the negotiations (Iskenderov and Wall 2001). In August, Putin claimed that the Kazakh and Azeri positions were very close to his own, and he proposed a meeting of the three presidents with Turkmen president Niyazov for further discussions. Turkmenistan insisted that Iran should participate or that talks should wait until the Caspian summit (now scheduled for October 2001) (RFE/RL Newsline 6 August 2001). Although not directly connected, after 11 September, the Caspian Sea delimitation issue quickly developed for the worse. Now, Russia wanted all disputes to be solved by a series of bilateral accords rather than by a single multilateral agreement according to the median line principle – modified ‘to the benefit of those countries to whom nature was less generous’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 November 2001). According to this principle, Russia’s sector accounted for 16 per cent of the Caspian Sea, Iran’s for 14 per cent, Azerbaijan’s for 20 per cent, Turkmenistan’s for 21 per cent and Kazakhstan’s for 29 per cent. In January 2002, Ivanov held talks with Niyazov on a new date for the planned summit of the Caspian Sea states. Niyazov argued that the Caspian Sea should be divided on the condominium principle, with each state having a coastal zone of 10–20 miles (RFE/RL Newsline 10 January 2002; Lelyveld 2002a). Niyazov also argued that the five littoral states should abstain from exploiting disputed hydrocarbon deposits until a final agreement on the legal status of the sea had been reached. The devil was in the details, however (RFE/RL Newsline 22 February 2002). The summit of the Caspian states in Ashgabat that had repeatedly been postponed since spring 2001 was now set to take place in April 2002. Hopes were not high (Lelyveld 2002b). When convened, it failed to yield any results. Putin listed the many problems that remained to be solved (Putin appearance 25 April 2002; Nezavisimaia Gazeta 23 April 2002, p. 6; Nezavisimaia Gazeta 24 April 2002, p. 5). In July, Putin and Nazarbaev signed a protocol on the equal division of three oil fields in the northern Caspian and also defined the median line dividing the respective sectors of the Caspian Sea. Iran condemned the Russian–Kazakh agreement as illegal (on the ground that all states would have to agree). In September, Putin again suggested a division of the seabed and the common use of waters and surface (i.e. what had been agreed upon in principle by Russia, Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan) in the hope that it would be accepted also by Turkmenistan and Iran in the end. Aliev went to Moscow to sign the long-awaited agreement on the delimitation of the Russian and Azerbaijani sectors of the Caspian Sea. Turkmenistan and Iran reaffirmed their previous position. Maybe as a way of unlocking the situation, Azerbaijan offered to resume bilateral negotiations with Turkmenistan, since ‘it is vitally important for both sides to agree on the middle line demarcating the Caspian Sea’ (RFE/RL Newsline 24 September 2002). Iran and Turkmenistan still rejected the principle underlying the Russia-Azerbaijani and Russia–Kazakhstani agreements, though.

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In spring 2003 there were new attempts, first by Iran and Azerbaijan, whose positions were drawing closer. The next summit of the five, scheduled to take place in Tehran in January was also postponed because of Turkmenistan’s refusal to attend. Some positive developments followed in April, when it was announced that Azerbaijan and Iran were close to a final agreement on the division after several high-level meetings. In May, a working group of the five Caspian Sea states (at their ninth meeting) reported some progress in drafting a convention; the sections dealing with environmental issues and the implementation of the convention had been agreed upon, while fishing and navigation issues remained unsolved, as was the crucial definition of the Caspian Sea itself. Kazakhstan, Azerbaijan and Russia signed a trilateral agreement on the demarcation lines between their sections (after three years of talks), said to be an example of how the Caspian states could reach an accord. The agreement gave 19 per cent of the Caspian seabed to Russia, 29 per cent to Kazakhstan and 18 to 19 per cent to Azerbaijan (see Blagov 2003d). In July 2003, Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan adopted a draft agreement on the dividing line between the two countries and agreed that the next step in the process should be trilateral talks including also Azerbaijan to find the exact delimitation of the three countries’ shares of the seabed. A tenth round of the working group’s talks ended in consensus on some 30 per cent of a draft convention. At the next round of talks in September, Azerbaijan offered to resume bilateral negotiations with Turkmenistan (that had broken down in May 2001), and in January 2004 there was some hope that Turkmenistan would break away from the Iranian position. In March, the Russian envoy Kalyuzhnyi met with Turkmen president Niyazov to coordinate positions, said to be ‘a very productive meeting’ with ‘no serious differences of opinion between Russia and Turkmenistan on the issue of defining the Caspian’s status’ (RFE/RL Newsline 11 March 2004). In March 2004, the thirteenth round of talks of the working group succeeded in coordinating several more paragraphs of the draft convention on the Caspian Sea. Talks between Azerbaijan and Turkmenistan were resumed, but Iran denounced all agreements as illegal until all five states had reached agreement on the status of the Caspian Sea – Iran continued to demand that the sea be divided into five approximately equal sectors. In April, a meeting of the foreign ministers of the five states failed to achieve any breakthrough on demarcation.3 The situation seemed to be at an impasse again, and the next session of the working group was postponed. In November 2004 and January 2005, there were some contacts between Turkmenistan and Iran, but the session of the working group entailed no visible results.4 The planned (third) summit on the legal status of the Caspian Sea, first scheduled for December 2004 and then for January 2005, was postponed once again. By May 2005, it was reported that the negotiating states had agreed on some ‘75 to 80 per cent’ of the accords, although ‘difficult parts’ remained to be settled (RFE/RL Newsline 18 May 2005). There were no breakthroughs in 2005 and 2006. One of the more obvious reasons for the difficulties in defining the borders in

Caspian Sea basin – borders, oil and gas 171 the Caspian Sea is directly linked to the natural resources themselves under the seabed, and the exploration and exploitation of those resources. Turkmenistan and Azerbaijan have a dispute over the Hazahr (Azeri), Osman (Chirag) Altyn Asur (Sharg) and Serdar (Kyapaz) fields; Iran and Azerbaijan dispute the ArazSharq field, and Russia and Kazakhstan dispute the Kurmangazy field. All through the years of negotiations and talks, there were also some practical implications for explorations tied to the negotiations on the status of the Caspian Sea and its delimitation.5 Tied to the efforts of dividing the Caspian Sea was also the issue of its demilitarization. While some of the littoral states wanted the Caspian Sea to remain demilitarized, others did not. There were also good reasons for concern: in August 2001, there were some military incidents involving Iranian and Azeri vessels.6 After 11 September, Russia used the ‘terrorist threat’ to defend the Russian position not to demilitarize the Caspian Sea: ‘[w]e cannot support a plan to demilitarize the Caspian Sea region, no matter how inviting this objective may seem’ because such a plan could negatively affect the fight ‘against international terrorism’ (RFE/RL Newsline 26 March 2002). Putin also explained in the same vein why Russia needed a military presence (Putin 25 April 2002; Putin appearance 25 April 2002). In August 2002, the largest ever naval exercises (since 1991) took place, with participation of some 60 vessels and 10,000 soldiers and including Azerbaijani units; these exercises constituted a new phenomenon, the purpose of which were fairly unclear (Blagov 2002e; Moaveni 2002; Lelyveld 2002c; McDermott 2002). Putin later confirmed that Russia would defend its economic and political interests in the Caspian Sea region, which (together with Siberia) was the most interesting region to her (RFE/RL Newsline 17 September 2002). Kazakhstan’s own need for a naval build-up to protect its Caspian oil fields was rejected by Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 28 February 2002; Isakova 2005: 287). In spring 2005, Russia suggested creating a rapid reaction force similar to the one created in the Black Sea, and in July Putin met with military officials from the Caspian Sea states and suggested that a force was necessary to fight terrorism, drug trafficking and organized crime.7 In August, the Caspian ‘Antiterror 2005’ exercise (with security forces from ten CIS countries and observers from Iran) took place, the first of its kind. In October, Putin again suggested establishing a Caspian regional security and peacekeeping force – CASFOR – also to include Iran (RFE/RL Newsline 25 October 2005). The suggestion was repeated by Lavrov in January 2006, suggesting that CASFOR should prevent ‘the threat of terrorism and WMD proliferation . . . and illegal trafficking of weapons and drugs’ (Ismayilov 2006a). It would be difficult to understand the greater picture in the Caucasus without looking for the ‘great game’ in and around the Caspian Sea, especially since one of the more ‘hard-to-solve’ issues for Russia in the Caucasus region has been the oil and gas pipelines in and around the Caspian Sea region. Here, more than anywhere else – with the possible exception of the Persian Gulf area – it is obvious that oil and gas production facilities and pipelines do not only constitute

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huge financial investments for economic purposes; they also create an obvious power base for those in control of the territories where these production facilities and pipelines are located. Russia has been taking an active part in this game; in fact, oil and gas pipelines in the former Soviet space have been seen as the fabric through which the former Soviet Union is still being preserved.8 The geo-politics of oil, gas and pipelines is complex in the Caspian Sea region. Oil and gas pipelines in effect link the Central Asian and the Caucasian regional sub-complexes, and to some extent also the European sub-complex together. There is also a strong domestic Russian factor involved in the Caspian Sea region since the Chechnya war and the instability of some north Caucasus regions have deprived Russia of its inherited Soviet pipeline routes and forced the construction of new transit pipelines, to the north and to the south of the north Caucasus. The need for new pipelines and outlets was not only a geo-economic issue to those most involved, but also an obvious geo-political one. ‘Pipeline politics’ is, generally speaking, a little bit of both. In addition, oil and gas reserves have also involved out-of-area companies, and when new resources are found, the five Caspian Sea states have to reopen discussions on which state they belong to, and thereby also the solution to the question that never had to be posed in Soviet times: how to divide up the Caspian Sea between the littoral states. Infrastructurally important oil and gas pipelines prospected in the area – especially the Trans-Caspian gas pipeline from Turkmenistan’s central Karakumi gas fields under the Caspian Sea to Azerbaijan – have caused considerable headaches in Russia since the late 1990s, as has the connectable oil and gas pipelines across the mountainous south Caucasus to Turkey. Both these projects aim to diminish transit dependency on Russia. The Trans-Caspian underwater pipelines have been considered environmentally risky, and their actual construction is still in doubt.9 The construction of the Baku–Tbilisi–Erzurum – BTE – or South Caucasus Gas Pipeline to deliver natural gas from the Shah-Deniz (and later also from Azeri-Chinag-Gunashli) gas fields in Azerbaijan began in 2004 and is in use since fall 2006. The BTE gas pipeline has been sponsored by the United States and designed to diminish Georgia’s (and Turkey’s) energy dependency on Russia. The gas pipeline runs parallel to the BTC oil pipeline. In 2006, Turkmenistan and Turkey also wanted to build a Trans-Caspian gas pipeline (planned for already in 1991) but the legal basis of such a pipeline is unclear and protests are ascertained. It is obvious that the gas resources of the Caspian Sea by now had become the object of heavy competition between Russia, China and the United States (Belton 2006d). In December, Turkmenistan and Azerbaijan moved somewhat closer in negotiations over a pipeline, but Iran continued to claim its illegality. By 1992, Russia controlled two oil pipeline routes from the Caspian Sea area. One taps the Mangyshlak and Tenghiz oil fields in Kazakhstan and runs north through Russia to the Baltic Sea. The other runs from Makhachkala in Dagestan on the north-western shores of the Caspian Sea via Chechnya to Novorossiisk on the Russian Black Sea coast. This pipeline was supplemented only in 2001 by a

Caspian Sea basin – borders, oil and gas 173 much larger pipeline that runs from Mangyshlak and Tenghiz fields in Kazakhstan and bypasses Chechnya to Novorossiisk. The Kashagan oil field (probably the largest detected in the last 20 years, opened in 2005) will also be tapped into this pipeline. Or, it may be tapped through an underwater pipeline running to Baku, to be connected to the Baku–Tbilisi–Ceyhan (BTC) pipeline, which in turn was projected and later built from Baku via Tbilisi to Ceyhan in southern Turkey. To add to the picture of pipelines in the Caucasus, Caspian and Black Sea regions, Russia has also built a gas pipeline under the Black Sea from Novorossiisk to the Turkish Black Sea port of Samsun (and further to Ankara). The geo-politics of all this has been increased by the aim of the United States to end Russian pipeline dominance in the region, which initiated another ‘Great Game’ over Central Asia and is likely to drive Russia and Iran closer together. In the end, however, oil is the ‘honey’ that attracts the West into the region (Black 2004: 224). In February 2000, the construction of the Caspian Pipeline Consortium – CPC – oil pipeline was a response to the ‘southern’ route for Caspian area oil, running from the Tenghiz oil fields in Kazakhstan to Novorossiisk in Russia (1,700 km and completed in summer 2001) and seen as ‘a national priority’ as the most feasible of all export pipeline options for Kazakhstan.10 By this time, it had become evident that Russia was not necessarily interested in Caspian oil being exported to the West via other than Russian routes, since it would give Western countries greater influence over governments in the region. Kazakhstan was the first to ‘get trapped’ by Russia – at a SCO summit in June 2002, Putin and Nazarbaev signed a 15-year agreement on the export of Kazakh oil via Russia. In 2004, there was some direct Russian involvement in trying to find new opportunities for oil transit via Georgia. A joint Russian–Georgian working group was set up to conduct a feasibility study for an oil pipeline to transport Russian and Kazakh oil from Novorossiisk in southern Russia via Georgia’s Black Sea coast to the Turkish terminal at Ceyhan on the Mediterranean coast.11 This project was meant to re-establish some Russian control over the oil export flow from the region. By far the most controversial oil pipeline construction in the region has been the 1,700 km Baku–Tbilisi–Ceyhan oil pipeline (BTC) from the Azeri oil fields in the Caspian Sea via Tbilisi in Georgia and crossing the Turkish heartland to the south to the Mediterranean port of Ceyhan. The BTC pipeline would at its peak carry one million barrels a day. This US$3 billion pipeline has irritated Russia since it was not only avoiding Russian territory but also avoiding the parts of Georgia where Russia has some influence (Abkhazia and Ajaria). In this, the persistent Russian geo-political thinking has been evident. After eight years of planning, the BTC construction finally started in February 2003. Security issues have haunted the project.12 Kazakhstan decided to join the BTC project and transport oil from the western Kazakh town of Aqtau by tankers to Baku from where the oil would be loaded into the BTC pipeline. Russia was unhappy and went quite far to persuade Kazakhstan to remain faithful to the ‘traditional’

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Russian routes.13 Closer to its inauguration, the BTC pipeline was threatened by other developments. In March 2004, the Georgian president Saakashvili warned that an attempt to block or change the route of the BTC oil export pipeline could be expected by foreign political forces in order to delay its completion. The construction of the Georgian section of the pipeline was launched in April 2004, which together with the Azerbaijani section became operational in late 2004. Environmental issues haunted the project, and in July the BTC construction was halted for one month.14 There were also other and more directly securityoriented threats. In November 2004, Saakashvili accused Georgia’s ‘enemies’ of planning attacks on its energy facilities, after unidentified perpetrators had attacked the other Georgian oil pipeline, the Baku–Supsa oil pipeline. This was seen as a ‘trial run’ in preparation for further ‘Russian’ attacks. Russia dismissed the whole thing as ‘absurd and groundless’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 November 2004). In October 2005, the Georgian section of the BTC was inaugurated by the presidents of the three BTC countries, with the participation of the Kazakh president. In December 2005, Kazakhstan announced that it might build an underwater pipeline in the Caspian Sea to connect to the BTC (RFE/RL Newsline 29 December 2005). In June 2006, Kazakhstan definitely joined the BTC, and in July the BTC was formally inaugurated. In conclusion, the Caspian Sea, the Caucasus and the Black Sea regions are closely interlocked when it comes to oil and gas production and transportation. Putin has for a long time tried to develop relations with neighbouring oil and gas exporters that would tie them harder to Russian pipelines. Russia has also been resisting alternative outlet routes. Although there are good economic reasons for precisely such a strategy, it is also evident that Russia has had more than a relaxed economic attitude to these developments. The striving of the United States for geo-political and geo-economic competition in the Caucasus and Central Asia has drawn the two former superpowers into conflict over their respective puppets in the Caucasus and Central Asian regions (Blank 2001: 143). This is likely to continue.

12 Russia and Kazakhstan

12.1 Introduction and general developments The large deserts, semi-deserts and steppes of Kazakhstan are located to the south of the Ural mountain ridge and the west Siberian lowland, with the Russian Volga basin and the Caspian Sea in the west, the Altai mountains in the east and the Aral Lake and Uzbekistan in the south. The country has historically been inhabited by nomadic tribes of Mongol and Turkish origin and since the nineteenth century (when Russian administration was enforced) also by Russians and Ukrainians. In Soviet history, several ethnic groups were deported to Kazakhstan, many of which left after 1991 (the largest being Russians and Germans), while Kazakhs abroad returned. Today, Russians are concentrated in the north and the Kazakhs in the south. The population amounts to some 15 million. Islam was introduced among the nomads only in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and the country is fairly secularized. In 1924, a KazakhKyrgyz Autonomous Republic within Russia was created and in 1936 Kazakhstan became a Soviet Republic. Kazakh anti-Russian and nationalist demonstrations began in 1986. Language politics were important in the search for a Kazakh identity; the Kazakh language (a Turkish language) is the official language since 1989. Frequent calls in Russia to incorporate parts of Kazakhstan in the 1990s and other ‘neo-imperialist’ thoughts caused suspicion in Kazakhstan. When Kazakh became the state language in 1996, more Russians left Kazakhstan (Russian was spoken only by some 60 per cent of the entire population and Kazakh only by some 1 per cent of the Russians) (Everett-Heath 2003: 186–187). Russian remains the lingua franca among the many ethnic groups, though (Smith et al. 1998: 151). Russian demands for greater self-determination in northern Kazakhstan were followed by a move of the Kazakh capital from Alma Ata to Astana in 1997. The country has been ruled by the former Communist Party leader Nursultan Nazarbaev (president since 1990, last time elected in 2005 for seven years). There have been demands both in Russia and Kazakhstan for changed borders and in Kazakhstan for closer relations with both the West, China and with other Central Asian states – ‘being friends with everyone’ – but Kazakhstan remains a close ally of Russia and holds Russia as ‘top priority’ (Rumer 2002: 38, 41). An

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American oil company (Chevron) began to develop the gigantic Tengiz oil field in the Caspian Sea and an international consortium has built a pipeline to the Russian Black Sea coast to tap it. Since 1997, China has been investing heavily in oil exploitation and a pipeline to China was inaugurated in late 2005. Kazakhstan is a member of the PfP, has a Partnership Agreement with the EU and is a member of the CST, EEC and SES. Russia–Kazakh relations have intensified of late, and in 2005 there were as many as ten summits between Putin and Nazarbaev. In January 2006, Nazarbaev called the Russia–Kazakh relationship the ‘most effective model for bilateral cooperation in CIS’ and Putin called Kazakhstan ‘one of the most consistent supporters of the integration process in the post-Soviet space’ (RFE/RL Newsline 13 January 2006), and in April, Nazarbaev said that Russia and Kazakhstan constituted the ‘locomotive of all integration processes in the postSoviet area’ (RFE/RL Newsline 5 April 2006), and in May he said that Russia and Kazakhstan were ‘fated by history itself to be eternal friends’ (RFE/RL Newsline 9 May 2006). Nothing could have been better, it seemed.

12.2 Defence and security All nuclear weapons were removed from Kazakhstan by the mid-1990s. One of the uncontested issues in the Russia–Kazakhstan relationship has been the many Russian military installations left in Kazakhstan after the break-up of the USSR. In 1997, when Russia signed agreements on further leasing of defence facilities, Kazakhstan was said to be Russia’s most reliable partner in the region (RFE/RL Newsline 31 October 1997). In 1998, Yeltsin and Nazarbaev signed a declaration of eternal friendship and alliance which provided for mutual military assistance in the event of aggression by a third party. In 1999, Nazarbaev claimed that there were no outstanding issues to be resolved between the two (RFE/RL Newsline 26 February 1999). With the beginning of the second Chechnya war in fall 1999, Kazakhstan was eager to help Russia and established additional border checkpoints at ports and railway stations and suspended ferry traffic with Azerbaijan to control Chechen refugees.1 The relationship was thus both stable and good-natured when Putin entered the Kremlin and there were no sour ‘left-overs’ in the relationship. At a summit in June 2000, Putin characterized the relationship as ‘progressively developing at a very high level’ in both the political and economic sphere (RFE/RL Newsline 20 June 2000). When Putin visited Astana in October the same year, Nazarbaev said that their views coincide on ‘the entire spectrum of political issues’, and Putin attributed the consensus to the shared aspiration to seek mutually acceptable solutions to all problems that arise (RFE/RL Newsline 10 October 2000). September 11 reinforced the harmonious Russian–Kazakhstan relationship despite Kazakhstan’s announcement that it was ready for ‘the strongest possible cooperation with the USA and the world community in combating international terrorism’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 September 2001). In October 2002, Putin char-

Russia and Kazakhstan 177 acterized relations as ‘a strategic partnership’ and called Kazakhstan ‘Russia’s closest and most consistent ally’ (RFE/RL Newsline 23 October 2002). In February 2003, Nazarbaev attended the formal inauguration in Moscow of ‘2003 – the Year of Kazakhstan in Russia’, a project to boost economic, scientific, educational and cultural relations. Putin then described Kazakhstan as a ‘reliable’ and ‘strategic’ partner while Nazarbaev emphasized the new ‘oil alliance’ between the two countries (RFE/RL Newsline 19 February 2003). In April 2004, Putin told Nazarbaev that he was ‘concerned about the developing situation in Central Asia regarding the struggle against terrorism’, and Nazarbaev stressed that ‘Kazakhstan unwaveringly supports a further deepening of the mutually beneficial partnership with Russia’ (RFE/RL Newsline 21 April 2004). In September the same year, there was a crack in the façade, however, when Kazakhstan reacted negatively to the new Russian military doctrine (which contained the provision for pre-emptive strikes abroad). Nazarbaev approved of the notion, but with one key qualification: ‘Russia has the right to do this now that the United States has already announced its intention to act preemptively against terror worldwide’, but ‘[p]reemptive strikes should be conducted only by the states on whose territory terrorist bases are located’ (RFE/RL Newsline 13 September 2004). Kazakhstan did not stay idle on the terrorism issue, and in October a major counter-terrorist exercise took place, and four terrorist organizations were banned. In November, the Kazakh security forces broke up a terrorist group – Mujahidin of Central Asia – with links to Al-Qaeda. There was also intense military and defence cooperation in the relationship with some 50 military and defence agreements. Russian weapon export was rich, and in February 2000 Russia announced that it would supply military hardware to replace that which Kazakhstan received after the collapse of the USSR. In 2001, Russia and Kazakhstan established a bilateral commission on militarytechnical cooperation, a rather natural consequence of the fact that Kazakhstan had 20 defence enterprises inherited from the Soviet era. In 2002, a new agreement on defence cooperation over the next nine years was drafted and in June 2003 Russia and Kazakhstan finalized a draft agreement on the joint use of troops to enhance common security, to make military cooperation ‘more intense and closer’ (RFE/RL Newsline 9 June 2003). In January 2004, efforts to integrate defence policies peaked when agreements on the establishment of a joint air defence, air force and joint naval systems were signed. In 2006, Kazakhstan announced its interest in buying the Russian air defence system – S300 PS (RFE/RL Newsline 16 June 2006).

12.3 Economic cooperation, trade and energy issues Gas and oil production and transportation have been at the core of the relationship both under Yeltsin and Putin. Problems have been related to the oil and gas exported via Russia, and also to exploration and exploitation of gas and oil resources. In spring 2000, Kazakhstan opened up for exporting gas to Turkey via both Russia and Azerbaijan. At the same time, Kazakhstan welcomed

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Gazprom to take the place of a former Belgian company to manage Kazakhstan’s gas distribution network and a Russian–Kazakh joint venture in gas exploitation and transportation was set up. One and a half years later, in November 2001, Kazakhstan and Russia signed an agreement on development of gas deposits and on gas export. Oil transportation via Russia has also been a problem to Kazakhstan. In April 2000, an agreement to increase Kazakhstan’s oil exports via Russian pipelines was signed, partly via the new 1,500 km Russian pipeline from Makhachkala to Novorossiisk (and thus bypassing Chechnya), and partly via the Atyrau–Samara pipeline. In addition, the Caspian Pipeline Consortium completed a new pipeline in summer 2001. In February 2001, the need for a long-term agreement on Kazakh oil exports via Russia was noted, but all practical problems were not solved until a year later. In June 2002, a draft agreement stipulating the amount of oil to be exported via Russia over the next 15 years was signed. The agreement was important since Kazakhstan planned to increase its oil exports by three times during this period. Later, there were also some starters with respect to joint oil extraction in Kazakhstan. In January 2004, Putin and Nazarbaev signed an agreement which focused on joint development of Kazakhstan’s oil fields at the northern end of the Caspian Sea, the transit of Kazakh oil and gas via Russia to world markets, and cooperation in developing the electric power industry. Putin promised that Russia and Kazakhstan would increase energy production (Putin address 9 January 2004). In February, Kazakhstan signed an agreement with the international consortium that was developing the Kashagan oil field in north-west Kazakhstan – scheduled to start producing in 2007 or 2008. In the first six months of 2004, Putin and Nazarbaev met six times, indicating a hausse in the relationship (Torbakov 2005a). In January 2005, they met again to discuss energy cooperation and the Caspian Sea Consortium which Putin referred to as a priority issue (RFE/RL Newsline 13 January 2005). In March, Russian LUKoil and the Kazakh state-owned gas company decided on a joint venture to develop the Khvalynskoye oil field (a follow up on the agreement signed in May 2002 between Putin and Nazarbaev). In July 2005, Russia and Kazakhstan signed a 55-year production sharing agreement for the development of the Kurmangazy oil field, of which Russian Rosneft would own 25 per cent and a Kazakh company 50 per cent. Total investments were estimated at more than US$30 billion. In January 2006, it was announced that Russia would develop the Kurmangazy and Khvalynskoye three oil and gas fields on a 50/50 basis (RFE/RL Newsline 25 January 2006), hailed by Putin (Putin statement 4 April 2006) and in summer 2006, the construction of a joint Russian–Kazakh gas-processing plant in Russia was agreed upon (RFE/RL Newsline 17 July 2006). In the fall, there were discussions also on nuclear energy cooperation, where the general idea was that Russia would build a nuclear power station in Kazakhstan (Putin Joint press conference 3 October 2006). In December, a joint venture on uranium extraction was inaugurated.

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12.4 Other bilateral problems Despite the generally good Russian–Kazakhstan relations, there have been a few minor problems in the relationship. One is the border issue, or the fact that the two countries hold a common 7,000 km border which never has been demarcated, resulting in a constant flow of contraband and migrants. Demarcation had begun in 1999, but Putin seemed to take the issue more seriously than Yeltsin, and in April 2000 Russian troops were deployed to guard the border. Developments were slow, though, and in June 2001 even the State Customs Committee complained about the conditions along the border where people passed unchecked (RFE/RL Newsline 7 June 2001).2 After 11 September, the predicted wave of refugees from Central Asia resulted in renewed calls for reinforcing the border, and Russia and Kazakhstan agreed to demarcate approximately half of their shared land border. Putin seemed to be somewhat hesitant to demarcation, though: in July 2002, he claimed it to be a mistake to build border facilities along the border with the former Soviet republic if the countries intended to create a common economic space (RFE/RL Newsline 10 July 2002). This vacillation was to become a permanent feature in Russian discussions on border demarcation in Central Asia. There were different opinions in Russia on whether or not to strengthen border security; those engaged in foreign trade preferred open borders, while security officials would like borders to be more closed to reduce the flow of illegal immigrants and narcotics. At a Russian Security Council session in March 2003, Russia’s border with Kazakhstan was considered to be the most problematic of all Russia’s borders: no crossings or demarcation lines had been constructed since 1993, largely because of the costs involved.3 The Russian vacillation was reinforced by the Eurasian Economic Community’s agreement on visa-free travel which caused an increase in illegal migration from Central Asia via Kazakhstan into Russia. Nevertheless, delimitation of the border (not demarcation) continued, and by September 2004 the Kazakh–Russian border delimitation had been finished to some 99 per cent. In January 2005, Putin and Nazarbaev finally signed a border delimitation agreement, which Putin called ‘a new stage in the strategic partnership’ (Putin press statement 18 January 2005).4 Another conflict issue that haunted the Russia–Kazakhstan relationship (especially in the first years of Putin’s reign) was the situation of the Russian minorities in Kazakhstan, which account for some 40 per cent of the country’s 15 million population. In April 2000, the situation took a rather strange turn when Russia was struck by the Kazakh trial of 11 Russian citizens accused of planning to establish an independent Russian republic in eastern Kazakhstan. The situation required involvement, however, and in October 2000 Putin met in Astana with an association representing Kazakhstan’s Russian minority. In spring 2001, Russians in Kazakhstan created a new political party, the primary objective of which was to lobby for proportional representation for Russians in state and government bodies. Later, the issue became a serious issue also in Russia, and the Communist Party leader Gennady Zyuganov wrote a letter to Nazarbaev

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expressing ‘alarm and concern’ at the intensification of ‘political persecution’ in Kazakhstan (RFE/RL Newsline 31 May 2002). In June, an open letter was sent to Putin asking him to provide moral and political support to the Russian population of Kazakhstan (RFE/RL Newsline 20 June 2002). Tied to the discrimination issue was the issue of state language in Kazakhstan, and in February 2002 the Russian language was asked to be designated a state language in Kazakhstan, to no avail. In 2006, Nazarbaev also raised the issue of whether the Kazakh language should switch from the Cyrillic to the Latin script in the future (RFE/RL Newsline 25 October 2006). Another long-time issue in the relationship has been the Baikonur cosmodrome (which Russia had leased in 1994 for a 20-year period for US$115 million annually but only began paying in 1999). The dispute over the Russian use of the cosmodrome was settled after a meeting with Putin and Nazarbaev when an agreement on the terms for the continued Russian use was reached in November 2001. In 2002, Putin announced that Russia planned to phase out its use of the Baikonur space centre and use the military launch pad in Plesetsk instead, so as to regain Russia’s ‘space sovereignty’, but only after the present Baikonur lease expired in 2014 (RFE/RL Newsline 23 January 2002). In December 2002, however, Russia requested an extension of its lease, and in January the next year Putin and Nazarbaev signed an agreement on the long-term use of the Baikonur space centre up to 2050, with the same rent as before. In March 2005, new investments in Baikonur were agreed upon. Elections have never been a problem in the relationship. While elections in Kyrgyztan in March 2005 and especially in Azerbaijan in November 2005 also had seen some elements of protest, there did not seem to be any hopes for a ‘colour revolution’ in Kazakhstan where presidential elections took place in December 2005. After the parliamentary elections in September 2004, there were many signs of repression; one opposition party was forced to dissolve after several arrests, and another party was banned after the Kazakh president signed an ‘antiextremism’ bill. The media also had a difficult time. After the presidential elections, Nazarbaev was immediately announced to have won a ‘landslide victory’ with 91 per cent of the vote. While the CIS election monitors claimed that the elections had been ‘free and open’, the OSCE stated that ‘the presidential election did not meet a number of OSCE commitments and other international standards for democratic elections’, and it further noted that ‘numerous and persistent examples of intimidation by the authorities’ had taken place and that ‘overall media bias in favour of the incumbent’ and a vote count assessed as ‘bad or very bad’ (RFE/RL Newsline 5 December 2005; Heintz 2005b; Toktogulov 2005b). Russia kept a low profile in the elections; there was no need to rock the ‘steady’ Kazakh boat, and the elections did not infringe on the Russian–Kazakh relationship. In conclusion, Russian–Kazakh relations have been almost without tensions ever since the demise of the USSR. The fact that Kazakhstan has been a proponent of

Russia and Kazakhstan 181 integration in the CIS sphere is all the more a sign of its actual needs; Kazakhstan is as much locked in by Russia and the Caspian Sea as any other Central Asian state and consequently in need of transits for its energy production. It is also evident that Kazakhstan needs Russian know-how to develop its gigantic underground energy resources. Kazakhstan and Russia have of late signed very long-term agreements in the energy sector, and the two economies are likely to continue developing in tandem. The Kazakh support of the US forces in Afghanistan was not seen as side-tracking Putin. By and large, Kazakhstan is not likely to have done much without the consent of Putin anyway, and its behaviour after 11 September vouch for that.

13 Russia and Kyrgyztan

13.1 Introduction and general developments Kyrgyztan is a small country with five million inhabitants bordering on Kazakhstan in the north, Uzbekistan in the west and Tajikistan and China in the south, with a majority Kyrgyz population and some 20 per cent Russians. Most citizens live in the north and in the Ferghana Valley. The Kyrgyz was a nomadic people until recently and has an old history of ruling the region from the ninth century until the Mongols took over in the thirteenth century. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, an independent Kyrgyz state was created, later to break up in clan-based smaller societies. Russia took over in the mid-nineteenth century (the Kokhand khanate), and repeated Kyrgyz revolts have been crushed. Islam is the major religion since the seventeenth century, although Kyrgyztan is a secularized country. In 1918, Kyrgyztan was included in the Turkestan Autonomous Republic (which in 1924 became a Kazakh–Kyrgyz Autonomous Republic) and in 1936 Kyrgyztan became a Soviet Republic. Nationalist tension resulted in armed clashes in 1989 and 1990 with Tajiks and Uzbeks in Kyrgyztan. Many Russians emigrated after 1989 because Kyrgyz became the official language.1 Formally, Kyrgyztan is a parliamentary democracy with a strong presidency. Askar Akaev was elected president in 1990 and has since increased his powers until he was ousted in 2005. In his reign, there have been conflicts with Tajikistan and Uzbekistan over borders and water resources in the Ferghana Valley. Hizb-ut-Tahrir (a movement aiming to create an Islamic state in all of Central Asia) has been very active, especially in the south, and developments in Afghanistan and Uzbekistan have constituted a serious headache to the Kyrgyz government in the 1990s. Furthermore, in 1999, Islamic fundamentalist warriors from Uzbekistan (IMU) intruded into the Ferghana Valley and engaged in clashes with the Kyrgyz army (see Levine 1999), and in fall 2000 Islamic warriors from Afghanistan entered via Tajikistan and engaged the Kyrgyz army in heavy fighting. IMU has also been engaged in terror bombings in 2002 as a response to the Kyrgyz support of the US-led antiterrorism war. Kyrgyztan allowed the stationing of some 2,000 Americans at the Manas airbase outside Bishkek for operations in Afghanistan. Despite this, relations

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with Russia intensified after 11 September and Kyrgyztan openly aspired to become Russia’s ‘main strategic partner’ in Central Asia (RFE/RL Newsline 3 December 2002). Presidents Putin and Askar Akaev signed a treaty on security cooperation (in December 2002) and Russia was allowed to station some 700 soldiers at the Kant airport (inaugurated in 2003 as the first new Russian airbase in a former Soviet republic since 1991). Kyrgyztan has also established cooperation with Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan in the fields of security, economics, trade, customs and visa issues. Kyrgyztan is a member of the PfP, SCO, and since 1998 also the WTO. Kyrgyztan exports raw material (gold, mercury, lead and uranium) and might have some commercial oil and gas resources.

13.2 Defence and security Kyrgyztan is the second most Russia-dependent state in Central Asia, once considered the most democratic, and ruled by the former Communist Party leader Askar Akaev since 1990. With respect to the Taliban threat, developments have been similar to those in Tajikistan, even though Russian border guards were withdrawn from Kyrgyztan in 1999. In view of Kyrgyztan’s geographical location, the country has remained a security consumer, and in 1999 Akaev said that Russia would remain Kyrgyztan’s ‘main strategic partner’ (RFE/RL Newsline 9 July 1999). There was a connection between Islamic armed operations in Kyrgyztan and Tajikistan to developments in Chechnya, which was emphasized in bilateral discussions in 1999 and 2000, and was in itself a sort of integration glue of Tajikistan and Kyrgyztan with Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 13 April 2000).2 While many states wanted to help, Russia was the most concerned: in April 2000, Putin and Akaev agreed to ‘prevent another Afghanistan emerging in Central Asia’ (Rashid 2000). Akaev told his parliament that Russia always had been Kyrgyztan’s principal strategic partner (RFE/RL Newsline 3 July 2000). In July 2000, Akaev and Putin signed a declaration on eternal friendship and a ten-year economic cooperation programme. Akaev stressed that Kyrgyztan had always regarded its ‘strategic partnership’ with Russia as a foreign-policy priority and expressed gratitude for Russia’s military assistance to chase Islamic militants out of Kyrgyztan the previous year. Putin, in turn, expressed appreciation for making Russian an official language in Kyrgyztan (RFE/RL Newsline 28 July 2000). After 11 September, Kyrgyztan jumped on the ‘terrorism’ train and officially asked for help to cope with the Uzbek Islamist movement, the IMU militants who had been raiding in 1999 and 2000 (RFE/RL Newsline 19 September 2001; Schnepp 2001). Although discussions on the subject were all but new, military cooperation was increasingly emphasized after 11 September. In June 2002, the IMU prepared new incursions into Kyrgyztan from Afghanistan and Tajikistan (similar to those in 1999 and 2000). Sergey Ivanov held talks with Akaev and several bilateral cooperation agreements were signed, including one that permitted Russia to maintain its military installations for up to 15 years. In July, Russia

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provided equipment to modernize the Kyrgyz air defence. When Putin visited Kyrgyztan in December, Akaev confessed that Kyrgyztan aspired to become Russia’s ‘main strategic partner’ in Central Asia (RFE/RL Newsline 6 December 2002). Russia used Kyrgyztan’s weakness to establish Russia’s power in the region (Torbakov 2002d). Russia’s higher military profile in Central Asia was not, it was said, a reaction to US deployments in the region after 11 September, but rather ‘dictated by Russia’s foreign political interests’. In effect, Russia and the United States might have increased cooperation in the region precisely because of their mutual antiterrorism interests (RFE/RL Newsline 19 December 2002).3 In 2003 and 2004, the new CIS/CST basing at the Kant airport became the major focus of defence and security and there were many implications and spill-over effects.4 The air base was officially opened in October 2003, and in 2004, the airbase was enlarged in men and planes (see Chapter 2). In summer 2005, there were rumours about another Russian base to be opened in Osh in southern Kyrgyztan, a request made by Russia in 2001. There were also some rumours about a Chinese base (RFE/RL Newsline 31 May 2005 and 2 June 2005; Torbakov 2005d). In summer 2005, the Russian military also showed an interest in doubling its troops at the Kant air base (RFE/RL Newsline 14 July 2005 and RFE/RL Newsline 15 July 2005; Blua 2005), and in 2006 it was clear that Russia would increase the number of soldiers at the Kant base (from the existing 500 soldiers) and triple the number of aircraft (from 20 aircraft) (RFE/RL Newsline 25 April 2006). The focus of Russian–Kyrgyz military exercises remained on simulated terrorist incursions, the need for which was seen in the actual terrorist incursions from Tajikistan in May 2006.

13.3 Economic cooperation, trade and energy issues Nowhere in the former Soviet space has the Russian ‘assets-for-debts’ policy been as evident as in Kyrgyztan. It should immediately be said that the initiative seemed to be on the Kyrgyz side; already in 2000, Kyrgyztan offered Russia several state-owned firms (including gold and uranium processing plants) in payment of its debts (RFE/RL Newsline 23 October 2000). In March 2001, Akaev proposed to Putin to pay Kyrgyztan’s US$150 million debt to Russia by offering part ownership of Kyrgyztan’s 20 largest industrial enterprises. An agreement was reached that approximately one-third of Kyrgyztan’s debt to Russia would be repaid between 2003 and 2015. In September 2001, some 27 Kyrgyz industrial enterprises were transferred to Russia in partial repayment of Kyrgyztan’s debt, and Russian participation in developing gold deposits and in the construction of two hydroelectric power stations were agreed upon (RFE/RL Newsline 12 September 2001). In March 2002, a Kyrgyz parliament delegation proposed paying some US$59 million of Kyrgyztan’s now total US$168 million debts by offering goods, services and a stake in Kyrgyz enterprises, including munitions factories.

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In September the same year, the Kyrgyz Prime Minister met with Mikhail Kasyanov to continue discussions on Russian participation in the construction of the two hydroelectric power stations, the export of electricity to Russia, and the joint development of gold deposits. In November, Kyrgyztan considered signing over to Russia state-owned stakes in four large industrial enterprises in payment of its debts, and Putin promised further development during his state visit to Kyrgyztan (Putin speech 5 December 2002). In April 2003, the two governments offered guarantees to private investors in the construction of the two hydroelectric plants agreed upon earlier in exchange for control over part of the water collected by the associated dams. The sale of Kyrgyz electricity to Russia began in August and represented a major breakthrough in economic relations between the two countries. In October, Putin attended a Kyrgyz–Russian Investment Forum in Bishkek and told participants that Russia was particularly interested in investing in Kyrgyztan’s transport and energy sectors. An agreement was also reached on the Russian acquisition of shares in a number of Soviet-era military plants to reduce Kyrgyztan’s debt. At the Forum, the signing of US$100 million contracts and the Russian purchase of shares in some key Kyrgyz industries were decided upon. In December, one Kyrgyz electricity company signed a long-term contract with Russia for delivery of Kyrgyz electric power to Russia.5 Also in 2003, Russia engaged itself in gas deliveries to Kyrgyztan, and the Kyrgyz government signed an agreement with Gazprom on cooperation in exploring and developing Kyrgyz oil and gas fields (and in repairing and building new gas pipelines to transport Russian gas to Kyrgyztan).6 Everything was not going smoothly though, and in January 2004 it was announced that four military equipment producers would not be transferred to Russia as partial payment of Kyrgyztan’s debt (as agreed upon earlier). In August, the Kyrgyz Prime Minister and Anatoly Chubais (head of Russia’s UES), signed a memorandum of understanding to finish the construction of Kyrgyztan’s two hydroelectric power stations.7 In October, Lavrov met with Akaev to discuss debt forgiveness, handing over a list of Kyrgyz enterprises in which Russia would accept a stake in exchange for debt relief (RFE/RL Newsline 13 October 2004). After the tumultuous events in Kyrgyztan in spring 2005, the new Kyrgyz President Kurmanbek Bakiev offered Putin several idle companies as payment for debts (RFE/RL Newsline 9 May 2005), and later suggested further Russian investments in mining and energy development (RFE/RL Newsline 27 July 2005). In 2006, Gazprom entered a joint venture on the exploration of possible oil and gas deposits in Kyrgyztan.

13.4 Other bilateral problems The Russians in Kyrgyztan have caused some problems in the relationship. In 2000, approximately 700,000 (or 17 per cent) of the total five million population in Kyrgyztan were Russians who had experienced some serious problems

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recently. Half a million Russians, most of them qualified professionals, were at the time believed to have left Kyrgyztan since 1992 (RFE/RL Newsline 1 March 2001). In late 1999 and early 2000, the Russian emigration was again boosted by several factors and in May 2000 Akaev issued a special decree designed to improve the situation of Kyrgyztan’s ethnic Russian minority in order to stem the accelerating flow of Russian emigrants. Kyrgyztan also designated Russian an ‘official language’ (together with the state Kyrgyz language), for which Putin expressed his gratitude (RFE/RL Newsline 29 May 2000).8 The problem could be solved by dual citizenship, it was thought, and in August 2001 Akaev told Putin that the Kyrgyz constitution might be changed to make Russian an official language. In December, the Kyrgyz Parliament finally granted the Russian language status of an official language, and Akaev signed the constitutional amendment into law. Putin praised Akaev for the move (RFE/RL Newsline 28 December 2001; RFE/RL Newsline 12 February 2002). The language problems were not over, though, and in January 2004 there were serious discussions on a draft law according to which all Kyrgyz officials should have sufficient command of Kyrgyz. This was a blow to many ethnic Kyrgyz and Russians in the north of Kyrgyztan who have limited command of the Kyrgyz language. Akaev tried to ease the situation in suggesting that the implementation of Kyrgyz as the state language should take place gradually up to 2015 (RFE/RL Newsline 26 March 2004). In fall 2005, there were also some requests by Kyrgyz organizations to end the status of the Russian language in Kyrgyztan, and President Bakiev had to promise Russian-speakers that the official status of the Russian language would be kept (RFE/RL Newsline 18 November 2005). The kind of language politics that was being played by Kyrgyz nationalists was not likely to have a happy ending. Propositions to change the status of the Russian language from an official language to a language of interethnic communication continued in 2006. Labour migration was another unsolved problem. In February 2002, the number of Kyrgyz citizens working in Russia was estimated to be 500,000 – approximately 10 per cent of the entire Kyrgyz population (RFE/RL Newsline 16 July 2002). The emigrant workers did not live an easy life, and in September 2003 Akaev visited Moscow to sign a bilateral agreement that obliged Russia to provide benefits to Kyrgyz citizens working in Russia. In January 2004, Kyrgyztan asked Russia to give Kyrgyz migrant workers the same status that was enjoyed by Belarusian workers (which amounted to almost the same rights as Russian citizens enjoyed). Elections in the aftermath of the ‘orange revolution’ in Ukraine did cause some turmoil in Central Asia, but the Russia–Kyrgyz relationship did not suffer. In the clan-divided country of Kyrgyztan, parliamentary elections were due in late February 2005 (and presidential elections in October). The Kyrgyz opposition was highly unstructured; opposition demonstrations began one week prior to elections and continued up to election day, and there were elements of copying

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the ‘orange revolution’ (Huskey 2005; Saidazimova 2005a; Kabulov 2005). The CIS observers deemed the elections ‘transparent, open, and legitimate’ while the OSCE said that they ‘fell short of OSCE commitments and other international standards in a number of important areas’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 March 2005; Heintz 2005a). Run-off elections were to follow two weeks later. Opposition protests continued and Akaev blamed the protests on ‘irresponsible political operators who are ready to sacrifice innocent people for their ambitions and craving for power’ (RFE/RL Newsline 11 March 2005). The run-off elections resulted in an overwhelming victory of Akaevsupporting parties and it turned out that the opposition would only receive about 10 per cent of the parliament seats. The election results sparked new protests all over Kyrgyztan, and government and other official buildings were occupied. Akaev accused the opposition of trying to drag the country into a civil war (RFE/RL Newsline 14 March 2005; Bukharbayeva 2005). Police officials ‘defected’ to ‘people’s power’, Akaev was shaken, and in a televised speech, he condemned ‘home-grown revolutionaries’ as ‘guided by foreign directives . . . while receiving funds from abroad’ (RFE/RL Newsline 23 March 2005; Toktogulov 2005a; Bukharbayeva 2005; Medetsky 2005a; Walters 2005; Kimmage 2005b). In late March, several thousand demonstrators stormed the government building and Akaev fled to Kazakhstan (and then to Moscow). Looting and violence in Bishkek claimed at least three lives and left hundreds injured (Kimmage 2005b; Walters 2005; van der Schriek 2005). New presidential elections were called for which resulted in victory for the acting president Kurmanbek Bakiev in July. In this ‘colour revolution’, Russia refrained from openly supporting any side. Russia was highly irritated at the OSCE, though, the assessments of which were used ‘by those who destabilized the situation in the country’, something that Russia could not ignore (RFE/RL Newsline 31 March 2005). In conclusion, Kyrgyztan has been extremely dependent on Russia in security and defence and in economic terms. Apart from being a weak clan-run state, Kyrgyztan has also been the victim of direct aggression by Islamist fundamentalist warriors from abroad, drawing the country into the greater game. In the security and defence areas, therefore, relations with Russia have been good, with an obvious standing request from the Kyrgyz leadership that Russia take care of its security problems. The US airbase in Kyrgyztan for operations in Afghanistan (which Putin did not mind at the time) has been countered with a Russian airbase that is still growing in size, and likely to remain there long after the US base has been closed. The strong Kyrgyz economic dependency on Russian energy and on investments into its economy has been further reinforced by Russian acquisitions of Kyrgyz companies in partial payment of the Kyrgyz long-time debt to Russia. Kyrgyztan is thus firmly resting in Russia’s embrace. At the same time, however, Kyrgyz nationalism has made life difficult for the rather large Russian population, which is an itch in the relationship, as is the large number of Kyrgyz migrant workers who live in Russia under difficult conditions.

14 Russia and Tajikistan

14.1 Introduction and general developments Tajikistan is a small country with some six million inhabitants, located with the Ferghana Valley in the north and bordering on Uzbekistan, Kyrgyztan China and Afghanistan in the south. The Tajiks are of Persian origin since the millennia before Christ and the language is Persian. Arabs invaded in the eighth century and stayed for a couple of centuries before the Mongols invaded and ruled for several more centuries. Islam came early, with the Persians, and was the upperclass religion in cities like Samarkand and Bukhara (in today’s Uzbekistan). Before the Russians arrived and made the Bukhara khanate a vassal state in the nineteenth century, Uzbeks exercised strong influence on Tajiks. The many Tajik insurrections that followed were severely crushed by the Russians. The Tajiks became part of Turkestan in 1924 and became a Soviet Republic in 1929. Tajikistan is the one Central Asian state where a civil war raged for many years. While Russia remained fairly indifferent to Central Asia in general up to about 1996, Tajikistan was the obvious exception (Jackson 2003: 144). After independence and elections of Rakhmon Nabiev as president in November 1991, demonstrations followed. Violent clashes in spring 1992 escalated into civil war in May 1992. In September, a coup forced Nabiev from the capital, and in December, Russian and Uzbek forces helped to push the Islamic opposition forces into Afghanistan. The former Communist Party leader Emomali Rakhmonov came to power with Russian assistance in 1994, and military campaigns followed in the mountains bordering on Afghanistan (Jackson 2003: 141). The civil war raged from 1992 up to 1997, causing at least 60,000 victims and almost one million refugees. Most Russians left Tajikistan and many Tajiks also left for Russia. In May 1993, Russia and Tajikistan signed a friendship, cooperation and assistance agreement and also agreed on Russian military and border guards (Jackson 2003: 164). A cease-fire agreement was signed in September 1994 under UN observation (but effectuated only in 1997). In May 1995, under Russian supervision, an agreement between the conflicting parties in Tajikistan was signed. This did not help, and the civil war continued; the Russian 201st Army had to get involved in what was seen as the first ‘drug war’ in the former USSR (Jackson 2003: 166–167).

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In January 1996, Russia began to pressure the Tajik leadership into a compromise with the opposition. By now, there were altogether some 25,000 Russian troops (of different sorts) in Tajikistan (Jackson 2003: 147–148, 168). In 1998, there was another armed uprising, this time in the north. This was an immediate danger also to Uzbekistan and maybe also to Kyrgyztan and Kazakhstan. Russia therefore found allies in its effort to intervene in Tajikistan (Solodovnik 1998: 231). In 1999, Islamic warriors entered from Afghanistan in the south and crossed Tajikistan into Uzbekistan and Kyrgyztan. Since then, the three Central Asian states have had some anti-terrorism cooperation. A large 20,000 Russian peace-keeping force and border troops to guard the southern border to Afghanistan remained in the country, and Tajikistan remained heavily dependent on Russian assistance for its security (Jonson 2004: 46).1 Today, the Tajiks are in the majority and many Tajiks live abroad.2 Tajikistan is a clan-divided state (north/south) and the only Central Asian state with Islamic parties in the parliament (up to 2003), although cooperating against Islamic fundamentalism (the IMU) with Uzbekistan. Tajikistan has also been an object of interest for many Asian states since 1991, in particular Pakistan, India and Iran, but Russia remains the major ally. Tajikistan has several natural resources, among which uranium and aluminium are the most well known, but also water, a precious item in Central Asia for the electricity it generates.

14.2 Defence and security Tajikistan has had several domestic civil conflicts with international connotations since the break-up of the USSR, and has been dependent on Russian security support to cope with its problems. Tajikistan is the only CIS country without an army of its own, which has further increased its dependency on Russia. In the Tajik civil war, the pilots were Russian, and the Russian 201st Motorized Infantry Battalion actively fought on the side of the Tajik central government (Panfilov 2000). Tajikistan is the Central Asian state that has been the most influenced by developments in Afghanistan in the 1990s, and has also been seen as the most likely inroad to Central Asia of Islamic fundamentalism and its warriors. In 1996, the Russian Foreign Minister Yevgeny Primakov envisaged a ‘domino theory’ for Central Asia: if Russian forces were to leave, he said, ‘a wave of destabilization could sweep across all Central Asia’ (OMRI DD 31 January 1996). Later the same year, he noted that the situation in Tajikistan had ‘a direct effect on the strategic interests of Russia’ (OMRI DD 15 May 1996). When the Taliban took control of Kabul in September 1996, there was immediate anxiety in Moscow and Dushanbe, particularly since the Tajik opposition was based within Afghanistan. Russia feared that the Taliban victory would spark a wave of regional instability in Central Asia, and in December the same year, a cease-fire was concluded among the warring parties in Tajikistan (under Russian auspices), followed in June 1997 by a peace accord. Russian troops remained in Tajikistan, however, and in January 1998 a bilateral agreement on defence cooperation was signed.3

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When the fighting in Afghanistan advanced to the Tajik border in summer 1998, Russia was the only power there to defend the Tajiks. If the Taliban were not restrained, there was a risk that Afghanistan would ‘turn into one more seat of international terrorism’, dangerous enough to invoke articles in the CST on countering aggression (RFE/RL Newsline 13 August 1998). Yeltsin promised that Russia, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan together were ‘fully capable of resisting the Taliban’ (RFE/RL Newsline 14 August 1998), and a joint statement calling for the ‘close interaction’ of signatories to the CST in protecting the Tajik–Afghan border was issued (RFE/RL Newsline 20 August 1998).4 In November 1998, there was also fighting in the north of Tajikistan and both Uzbekistan and Kyrgyztan strengthened their forces along the Tajik border (RFE/RL Newsline 10 November 1998). The Tajik government was grateful for the Russian support. When Russia again (in 1999) claimed that it could not hand over control of the border, warning of ‘a serious threat . . . for the entire region’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 February 1999), Tajikistan agreed, calling Russia ‘the only reliable partner and [guarantor] of stability and security in Tajikistan’ (RFE/RL Newsline 8 February 1999). In spring 1999, a joint protocol on military cooperation allowed Russia to maintain a military base in Tajikistan, the exact terms yet to be appreciated (Panfilov 2000; Abdullayev 2004), and a declaration allowed Russian troops in Tajikistan. In September the same year, the strategic partnership was confirmed and Russian and Tajik forces held joint exercises to deter an armed invasion. This was the situation when Putin entered the Kremlin. Actually, Putin made his first visit as premier to Tajikistan in November 1999. In spring 2000, both the Tajik president Imomali Rakhmonov and Putin were concerned at the escalating armed clashes close to the Afghan–Tajik border. Military exercises with some 13,000 troops from Russia, Kazakhstan and Kyrgyztan were held in Tajikistan (simulating the intrusion of a terrorist group). In summer 2000, it was announced that the CIS (Russian) peace-keeping activities in Tajikistan were to be replaced by efforts to combat ‘international terrorism’ and ‘extremism’ when the current peace-keeping mandate ended in September (RFE/RL Newsline 22 June 2000). Rakhmonov praised the ‘strategic partnership’ with Russia and warned that as long as the conflict in Afghanistan was not solved, there would be ‘no stable system of security in Central Asia’ (RFE/RL Newsline 31 July 2000). In September, the Russian 201st army division and border guards in southern Tajikistan were placed on alert several times as fighting between Taliban forces and the Northern Alliance in Afghanistan advanced close to the Tajik border. Russia and Tajikistan also held joint exercises close to the Afghan border. In spring 2001, Russia claimed that Central Asia would remain in the Russian sphere of influence and Tajikistan reaffirmed that ‘Russia is our chief strategic ally’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 February 2001). When fighting between the Taliban and the Northern Alliance in Afghanistan again reached the very borders of Tajikistan, Russia was alarmed, and in summer 2001 the murder of Rakhmonov’s foreign policy adviser was blamed on Osama bin Laden. Afghanistan was the centre of the boiling kettle.

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Immediately after the American announcement that the Taliban were responsible for the 11 September terrorist acts, the 201st Russian Motorized Rifle Division in Tajikistan was put on ‘red alert’ (RFE/RL Newsline 17 September 2001) and Tajikistan was said to be ‘in the forefront’ of the struggle against international terrorism (RFE/RL Newsline 20 September 2001). By the end of the fatal September month, Russia had accepted that US forces could use the Russian airbase near Dushanbe for strikes against the Taliban in Afghanistan. In October, Rakhmonov and Putin discussed joint efforts in the anti-terrorist campaign in Afghanistan (Rodin 2001), and in January 2002 Tajikistan was characterized as ‘Russia’s direct strategic partner’ (RFE/RL Newsline 14 January 2002). It was also re-affirmed that the Russian force deployed on Tajikistan’s southern border would remain there ‘at least for the next 10–15 years’ (RFE/RL Newsline 24 January 2002). The situation in Central Asia had drastically changed, but as far as Tajikistan was concerned, Russia was its most evident provider of security. Despite some lingering apprehension about the US military presence in Central Asia, it was evident that Russia’s relations with Tajikistan improved after 11 September. The improvement was not as much a result of Russian as of Tajik interests, though. Military exercises kept their focus on terrorist incursion from Afghanistan also after 11 September. In October 2002, some 5,000 Tajik defence troops and two regiments of Russia’s 201st Motorized Division again held joint exercises to strike back at foreign terrorists. Sixth months later, in March 2003, joint military exercises involved the 201st Motorized Infantry Division as well as Russian border guards, with the aim of repulsing international terrorists.5 In March 2004, there was a repetition of the exercises one year earlier in southern Tajikistan, and in June, military exercises to repulse a chemical attack with Russian border and defence troops were held. In August 2005 and April 2006, there were again military exercises related to the incursion of international terrorists. Borderrelated exercises against terrorist incursions where Afghanistan figured prominently had become the main objective of the joint defence efforts. Terrorist bombings in the first half of 2006 were proof of the need for such exercises (Kimmage 2006c). Military exercises were not the only form of military cooperation in the relationship, though. In April 2003, Putin decided that CIS citizens could serve in the Russian armed forces, and in Tajikistan this was seen as a direct request. This was tied to the issue of whether or not to establish a permanent Russian military base in Tajikistan which had formally been agreed upon in 1999 but never implemented. But in summer 2003, the Tajiks expressed interest in changing the status of the 201st Motorized Infantry Division into a regular army base. Negotiations followed, but they were slow throughout 2003. After a lengthy extradition issue, in spring 2004, the military base issue seemed to go off the ground (Abdullayev 2004). Uncertainties were evident, though, and domestic Russian support was not ascertained, although the Russian military seemed all for it. The Tajik government officially supported the idea of creating a Russian military base with the reservation that it should have ‘a very clearly defined

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framework for functioning’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 May 2004). Finally, during a presidential meeting in Sochi in June, Putin and Rakhmonov reached a ‘political decision’ on the permanent Russian military base in Tajikistan with only ‘a few technical issues’ to be resolved (RFE/RL Newsline 8 June 2004). In October, the new Russian military base to house Russia’s 201st Motor Rifle Division with its 6,000 men was opened by Sergey Ivanov. Putin, who also attended the opening, called it ‘a crucially important and necessary decision for two friendly, allied states that serves the basic interests of our peoples and acts to strengthen the peace and stability of Central Asia and the security of the entire CIS’. Rakhmonov called it ‘a momentous event in the history of relations between Russia and Tajikistan’ (Putin speech 17 October 2004).6 A closely related issue was that of Russian border guards on Tajikistan’s border to Afghanistan. In December 2002, Russia handed over the guarding of Tajikistan’s border with China to Tajik soldiers. In January 2003, Putin suggested to Rakhmonov that their two countries’ intelligence services should cooperate more closely to stop the flow of drugs from Afghanistan via Tajikistan to Russia and Europe (RFE/RL Newsline 29 January 2003). There seemed to be a domestic strife in Tajikistan on the border guard issue; while the Tajik border troops claimed to be ready to take over the guard on a section now guarded by Russian border troops (RFE/RL Newsline 22 September 2003), the Tajik government did not share that opinion and instead wanted the Russian border troops to stay. So did the Russian military (Abdullaev 2003; RFE/RL Newsline 12 November 2003). But in January 2004, Russia seemed actually to support the idea of Tajik border guards gradually taking over the responsibility for the Tajik–Afghan border (RFE/RL Newsline 12 January 2004). In May, there was still confusion as to whether Russian border guards were to actually hand over control of the Tajik–Afghan border, but Russian troops nevertheless began to withdraw from two sections of the border. The Tajiks claimed this to be premature since not all of the necessary documents for a withdrawal had yet been signed, and even the Russian ambassador to Tajikistan argued that ‘it is still too early to talk about the terms of conditions’ of transferring control over the border to Tajikistan. Talks were under way, though, and ‘[o]ur attitude to this process will in many respects depend on how tightly the Tajik side will protect the border with Afghanistan’. In June, Rakhmonov met with Putin and asked him to postpone the handover of border duties to Tajik forces until the end of 2006 (RFE/RL Newsline 7 June 2004). Problems with Tajik border guards were recognized (Herrman 2004e). In summer 2004, Russian–Tajik border talks finally began with a focus on the transfer of one section to Tajik control. There was some Russian opposition on the issue (RFE/RL Newsline 20 September 2004), but in October, Putin and Rakhmonov signed the actual agreement on the transfer of the Tajik–Afghan border from Russian to Tajik jurisdiction, according to which Russia was to transfer another 880 km-long section of the Tajik–Afghan border by the end of 2004, with the remainder of the handover to be completed in 2006. In November and December, the handover of border controls began (Pannier 2004). During

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2005, the completion of the transfer of border guards to Tajikistan continued sector by sector for the full length of the 1,300 km border to Afghanistan, and in July the final transfer took place at a ceremony, thus marking the end of the Russian control of the Tajik border to Afghanistan. Putin promised continued assistance, as did the EU.

14.3 Economic cooperation, trade and energy issues Tajikistan is estimated to possess gas reserves of one trillion cubic metres but has few resources to develop them itself. In May 2003, Gazprom signed a 25year cooperation agreement according to which the company undertook to explore and develop new gas fields in Tajikistan. Exploration is going on. Electricity production and grids became an issue in the relationship in 2003, when Rakhmonov sought assistance also to develop Tajikistan’s hydropower resources. A year later, an agreement was signed with Russia’s Unified Energy Systems (UES) to export 1.4 billion kWh of electricity a year to southern Russia for a period of five years (generated by the Norak hydroelectric power station and transited via Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan). Larger issues were at hand, though. In June, the UES began to negotiate with Tajikistan and Iran to create a consortium to build the Sangtuda hydropower station. The head of UES Chubais confessed that he had received ‘direct instructions from the Russian president to be involved in developing the hydropower sector in Tajikistan’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 June 2004). In August, Russia and Tajikistan reached a preliminary agreement for Russia to acquire a majority share in the Sangtuda hydropower plant for US$100 million. In October, an ‘energy for debt’ discussion followed when Presidents Putin and Rakhmonov signed bilateral agreements according to which Russia would receive the spacesurveillance station in Nurek to pay off the Tajik debt and by giving Russia the majority share in the Sangtuda plant, in which Russia would invest another US$200 million to complete its construction by 2008. Putin talked of US$2 billion investments in the next five years (Putin press statement 16 October 2004). In December, the UES signed a protocol that confirmed Iran’s and Tajikistan’s intention to cooperate on the Sangtuda hydropower plants. In 2005, Russia began work at the Sangtuda-1 power plant, and in 2006 Iran began the construction of Sangtuda-2 power plant. Furthermore, the Russian Aluminium (Rusal) was to invest US$560 million in Tajikistan’s Roghun hydropower plant and over US$700 million in aluminium production facilities in the country.7 The construction of the Roghun hydropower plant began in 2006. Putin said that Russian state-owned and private companies would invest altogether US$2 billion in the Tajik economy over the next five years (RFE/RL Newsline 7 April 2005). In 2006, it was announced that Gazprom would develop four gas fields in Tajikistan, and it would then hold 75 per cent of the joint company (RFE/RL Newsline 29 March 2006). What it all shows is the Russians’ firm intent to use its advantages to take control of the energy resources of Tajikistan.

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14.4 Other bilateral problems Temporary work migration is a common phenomenon in Central Asia in general, but has become most pronounced in the case of Tajikistan where migration issues have marred the Russia–Tajikistan relationship.8 The economic importance to Tajikistan’s economy of this seasonal migration is significant, estimated to be as large as the annual Tajik budget. After 11 September, the situation for ‘illegals’ in Russia worsened, and repatriation issues became a common feature in the relationship. In April 2003, Putin said that the main obstacle to Tajik labour migration to Russia was the fact that Tajikistan was a transit route for contraband and drugs heading for Russia and Europe (RFE/RL Newsline 29 April 2003). Local conditions aggravated the problem for the migrants. In spring 2004, it was evident that travel restrictions had had the desired effect, since the number of Tajiks travelling to Russia in search of work had diminished. In August, the introduction of a passport requirement for travel to Russia and other EEC states (agreed upon by the EEC) was predicted to create serious difficulties for Tajik migrant labourers. The timetable for the introduction of the requirements was too short, and Russian authorities had to give Tajik citizens until April 2005 to comply with the new regulations. As a result, in 2005 there was a noticeable decline in labour migration from Tajikistan to Russia. After the ‘orange revolution’ in late 2004, all Eurasian political leaders were at an edge with respect to a repeat performance of opposition forces in their own countries. The first election to take place after the ‘orange revolution’ was the parliamentary elections in Tajikistan in February 2005 (presidential elections were to take place in November 2006). Complaints about election procedures were plentiful and there were many media violations. The ruling party won 55 of the 63 mandates, and while the CIS observers claimed that the elections had been ‘free and transparent’ (RFE/RL Newsline 28 February 2005), OSCE observers said that the elections ‘failed to meet many key OSCE commitments and other international standards for democratic elections . . . large-scale irregularities were evident, particularly on election day’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 March 2005). Opposition members were arrested in the aftermath of the elections, media violations continued, but there was nothing even close to a ‘colour revolution’ in Tajikistan. Russia kept an extremely low profile in the elections, certain of the end result. In conclusion, Tajikistan has been and still is a major security recipient from Russia, and this will continue to be the situation as long as the Afghanistan situation is not stabilized. The fact that the Soviet-era Russian troops have been established on their own military base is in itself an indication of this. The handover of the border guard services to the Tajiks has been important to Tajikistan but is still regarded as a ‘bad card’ in Russia – the Russian trust of the effective-

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ness of the Tajik border guards is not high. On the other hand, the ranks of the border guards have for a long time been filled with citizens of Tajikistan (rather than of Russia) so the change might not be that great after all. The economic aspects of the relationship have also developed strongly in the second Putin term, evident from the major investments in the Tajik energy sector.

15 Russia and Uzbekistan

15.1 Introduction and general developments Uzbekistan is located between the large rivers of Amu-Daria and Syr-Daria and more than half of its territory is desert. It borders on Kazakhstan in the north and west, on Turkmenistan, Afghanistan and Tajikistan in the south, and Kyrgyztan in the east. It is the most populous of the Central Asian states with more than 26 million inhabitants, most of which are Uzbeks while the rest belong to a large variety of ethnicities, including Russians. The Uzbek language is a Turkish language, and Islam is the dominant religion. Uzbeks are of Turkish and Mongol origin from the thirteenth century and see themselves as the followers of Dgengiz Kahn. They created an empire in the early sixteenth century consisting of three khanates, Chiva, Bukhara and Kokand. When the British advanced to the north from the Indian Ocean and the Russians advanced south, Russia conquered the three khanates and created Turkestan, an administrative unit within Russia with considerable selfdetermination. In the very late nineteenth century, insurgencies against Russia were frequent, but all crushed. The Red Army beat the last resistance in 1922, after which (in 1924) Turkestan was divided up in so-called autonomous republics. Uzbekistan became a full-fledged Soviet Republic in 1936. In 1989, before the break-up of the USSR, violent clashes took place in Ferghana Valley. Many Russians emigrated in the early years of independence because of the violence and the Uzbek nationalist surge with its demand on citizens to learn the Uzbek language. Ethnically inspired conflicts have usually emanated from Afghanistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyztan (Everett-Heath 2003: 190–191). The role of Islam has been a persistent problem in creating an Uzbek national identity (Everett-Heath 2003: 193). The former Communist Party leader Islam Karimov has since been repeatedly re-elected and in 2001 he was elected president for life. Politics is most often a contest among five regions, where the Ferghana Valley and Tashkent are the most important (Everett-Heath 2003: 196). In the early post-Soviet years, Uzbekistan seemed to become a close Russian ally, but from 1995 it distanced itself from Russia and soon became the most overtly anti-Russian state in Central Asia (Smith et al. 1998: 147). In 1999, it left the CST and joined the GUAM instead, and

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Russia feared losing Uzbekistan altogether since it had few levers (Jonson 2004: 45–46). Uzbekistan has been struck by Islamic fundamentalism in the form of a terrorist organization with 4,000 warriors – IMU – which took part in the civil wars in Tajikistan and Afghanistan and raided the Uzbek–Kyrgyz border between 1997 and 2000 in attempts to create an Islamic state in the Ferghana Valley (see Jonson 2004: 54ff.). After being driven out of Tajikistan by Russian forces, the IMU bases were moved to Afghanistan, but whenever the IMU acted in Uzbekistan, Tajikistan was certain to be blamed (Mamadshoyev 2000b; Zamon 2001). Radical Muslims have been severely punished, especially those belonging to the Hizb-ut Tahrir, which also advocates a united caliphate in Central Asia (like the IMU) but proclaims to be against violence. After another aggressive attempt by the IMU in 2002, the four Central Asian states began to cooperate against Islamic fundamentalist warriors. In 2004, there were several bomb explosions in Tashkent directed against the USA and Israel. In summer 2005, the Andijon events with its many civilian victims severely damaged Uzbekistan’s reputation in the eyes of the West.

15.2 Defence and security The Russian–Uzbek relationship is more complicated than most other Russian relations with former Soviet republics. In the Central Asian region, Uzbekistan has also been somewhat of a contester of Russian power, seen in the fact of joining alternative security structures – the GUUAM – and in the fact that the Uzbek President Islam Karimov’s first official meeting with Yeltsin took place only in 1998 when the Afghan problematique had hit Central Asia. Karimov then promised to coordinate efforts to fight the spread of fundamentalism in the former Soviet space (RFE/RL Newsline 7 May 1998). When Yeltsin made his first official visit to Uzbekistan later the same year, the two presidents promised to assist each other should the other be attacked (RFE/RL Newsline 12 October 1998). But in 1999, when a new conflict between Russia and Uzbekistan developed as a result of Russian interference in a dispute between Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, Uzbekistan withdrew from the Collective Security Treaty in retaliation. In fall 1999, with Islamist intrusions into Kyrgyztan, the situation changed and with Putin’s rising star in 1999, there were some signs of improvements (Jonson 2001: 106); a military cooperation agreement was signed, marking ‘a qualitatively new level of relations in security matters’. During his second state visit abroad, Putin went to Uzbekistan where he claimed Uzbekistan to be ‘Russia’s strategic partner for many, many years’ (RFE/RL Newsline 13 December 1999). As newly elected president, Putin did not wait to improve relations. Already in April 2000, Uzbekistan was presented as Russia’s ‘strategic ally’ and Russia pledged to help Uzbekistan against attacks by international terrorists (RFE/RL Newsline 11 April 2000). In May, he paid an official visit to discuss military and energy cooperation with Karimov.1 Karimov made it clear, however, that

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Uzbekistan would not re-join the CST and that no Russian troops would be deployed on Uzbek territory. But since military-technical assistance from Russia was needed, additional agreements on military cooperation were also signed. In August, Russia also offered assistance in fighting the IMU and also warned against Islamic extremism emanating from Afghanistan. Putin expressed concern at the ongoing fighting (RFE/RL Newsline 17 August 2000).2 In September, Karimov recognized Russia’s interests in Central Asia, but also noted that ‘[t]hey also need to be discussed with the leaders of the Central Asian states. We need to know what Russia will be doing tomorrow in our region and how it will defend its interests. Russia has to pursue a serious and well-thoughtthrough policy in Central Asia’ (RFE/RL Newsline 28 September 2000). At the CIS summit in December, Putin and Karimov promised to resolve the problems in their bilateral relationship (RFE/RL Newsline 4 December 2000), and Karimov recognized that Russia would remain a priority partner for Uzbekistan although he had some complaints.3 In February 2001, Russia held talks with Uzbekistan on several defencerelated issues on military-technical cooperation, regional security, the threat from the IMU and from Afghanistan. In April, Anatoly Kvashnin, the head of the Russian General Staff, visited Uzbekistan to assist in its defence against an expected onslaught of Islamist warriors, and during a state visit in May, both Karimov and Putin recognized that relations had improved. Karimov termed Russia’s presence ‘a fundamental guarantee of security and stability in the region’ (RFE/RL Newsline 7 May 2001). After 11 September, Karimov and Putin discussed the situation in Afghanistan on several occasions, and Russian generals were sent to Uzbekistan to help coordinate defensive measures.4 So, even if Uzbekistan was the first to welcome US deployments in Central Asia and to offer airfields, and even if Karimov was considered to be the most anti-Russian of Russia’s Central Asian neighbours, he nevertheless accepted the need for a Russian presence in the intensified anti-terrorist struggle. In summer 2003, some new developments changed the relationship. The Russian Federal Security Service (FSB) made a joint operation with Uzbek police in Moscow in which more than 100 terrorist suspects were arrested. Half of them were said to be members of the Uzbek Hizb ut-Tahrir network and was engaged in recruiting mercenaries and arming terrorists. Most of the suspects were from ‘Mediterranean countries’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 June 2003). Karimov re-oriented Uzbekistan towards Russia. A June meeting with Putin was referred to as ‘a landmark’ in the relationship (Carlson 2003). In spring 2004, there were new terrorist attacks with heavy fighting for several days and with severe casualties (Islamov 2004a, 2004b; Herrman 2004a, 2004b, 2004c; Nezavisimaia Gazeta 31 March 2004, pp. 1, 5). The USA several times offered to assist Uzbekistan in its counter-terrorism efforts (RFE/RL Newsline 6 April 2004; Cohen 2004). Karimov complained to Putin that terrorists were acting too fast for the international anti-terrorism coalition to react. Putin assured Karimov that ‘in your struggle against these acts, you

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can count on Russia’s full and unconditional support’ (RFE/RL Newsline 16 April 2004). This time, Uzbekistan declared its willingness to take ‘radical and decisive’ steps to boost relations with Russia (Torbakov 2004f). By now, the United States’ criticism of Uzbekistan’s human rights record further nourished good relations with Russia, especially since Russia acknowledged that whatever happened in Uzbekistan was Karimov’s business. In May, Sergey Ivanov met with Karimov and noted that increased cooperation was needed to combat the ‘terrorist plague’ (RFE/RL Newsline 13 May 2004; Naritov 2004). Russia had now assumed the elevated US position in Uzbekistan’s foreign policy (Blank 2004a). In summer 2004, relations took an even more definite turn for the better when Putin (on his journey through Central Asia) signed a treaty on strategic partnership in the political, economic, military-technical and trade areas with Karimov. Karimov commented that the treaty ‘lays the basis for a qualitatively new level of long-term relations between our countries’ and Putin added that ‘[i]t is indeed a new stage in conducting relations between our governments’ (Putin statement 16 June 2004; RFE/RL Newsline 17 June 2004). New agreements followed later in the summer. In August, after new terrorist bombings in Tashkent, Russia arrested five members of Hizb ut-Tahrir and the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan. Karimov now announced that Uzbekistan and Russia would hold large-scale military exercises in Uzbekistan the next year, explaining that ‘[w]hat is at issue is not a routine exercise but a very serious one . . . [which] is further proof that there is a high level of trust between the armed forces of Uzbekistan and Russia’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 August 2004).5 The Russian–Uzbekistan relationship thus developed in a positive direction in conjunction with a deteriorating US–Uzbek relationship. The full Uzbek volta-face took place in 2005, though. First, Uzbekistan left GUUAM. Second, Uzbekistan became increasingly irritated at the US criticism of the human rights situation in Uzbekistan after ‘Bloody Friday’ in Andijon in May, when Uzbek forces killed several hundred demonstrators (Torbakov 2005b; Kimmage 2005b). Together with the EU, the United States urged for an international investigation, while Lavrov blamed the Andijon events on ‘outside extremist forces’ (RFE/RL Newsline 16 May 2005). Sergey Ivanov even hinted at a connection to Chechen terrorists (an argument immediately picked up in Uzbekistan) (Torbakov 2005c; Tarzi 2005). While Putin and Karimov concluded that militants from Afghanistan had infiltrated Uzbekistan in a professional and ‘thoroughly planned operation’ (which was to remain their common line), the UN began its own investigation of the events (RFE/RL Newsline 29 June 2005). In July, as a direct consequence of the US criticism of the Andijon events, the US military in Uzbekistan were asked to leave and the airfield to be closed. Sergey Ivanov denied any Russian influence on the decision (RFE/RL Newsline 2 August 2005). There was thus an obvious improvement of Uzbek relations with Russia even prior to the Andijon events. The best proof of the new strategic situation was maybe that the first ever joint military exercises between Russia and Uzbekistan

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took place in September 2005 (devoted to liberating a population centre taken by terrorists). In October, their strategic partnership was openly hailed by Lavrov and Karimov (RFE/RL Newsline 24 October 2005). In November, Russia and Uzbekistan signed an agreement that according to Putin represented ‘the highest degree of trust in relations between sovereign countries’, which gives ‘a completely new quality and takes [relations] to a maximum level of closeness’ (Putin press statement 14 November 2005). In 2006, Russia and Uzbekistan held joint counter-terrorism military exercises for a second time, and in December 2006 Russia and Uzbekistan signed an air-basing right agreement.

15.3 Economic cooperation, trade and energy issues Despite the mistrust of the Yeltsin years, there were nevertheless some cooperation attempts with respect to joint oil and gas extractions in Uzbekistan. In summer 2002, further discussions took place on Russian investment in developing Uzbek oil and gas deposits, and in December Karimov and Gazprom head Aleksey Miller signed a ten-year contract to supply Uzbek natural gas to Russia beginning in 2003.6 In summer 2003, Karimov and Miller met again to discuss joint gas-related projects. The Uzbek government planned to construct a new gas export pipeline to avoid Turkmenistan, and Putin promised to cooperate (Putin statement 6 August 2003). In spring 2004, the Uzbek state-run gas company signed a 15-year productionsharing agreement with Gazprom on gas extraction at the Shakhpakhty gas field, and in June Russia’s LUKoil signed a US$1 billion production-sharing agreement for 35 years with the same Uzbek company to develop the Kandym gas field. Putin suggested that this was a pure business deal for the Russian companies (RFE/RL Newsline 17 June 2004). In August, Karimov praised the Russian business presence in Uzbekistan: ‘It is pleasant to note that today Russia regards Uzbekistan as a reliable and loyal partner. For our part, we regard Russia as the state that has been present in the country for a long time and this presence will further develop and strengthen’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 August 2004). After the Andijon events in summer 2005, Russia and Uzbekistan signed several more cooperation agreements, including agreements on trade and cooperation in energy and agriculture. There was also another gas deal signed with Gazprom, according to which Turkmen gas would be transited via Uzbekistan to Russia. In 2006, the prices of Uzbek gas sold to Russia increased (from US$44 to US$60) while Uzbek gas would be sold to others for US$100–120. It was also announced that Gazprom would invest US$1 billion in Uzbek gas projects (RFE/RL Newsline 19 May 2006). Economic relations had definitely entered the relationship and went hand in hand with political developments. Putin was highly involved in this improvement of relations, aided by the increasingly difficult Uzbek domestic developments. Karimov had landed firmly on Putin’s lap. In conclusion, while Russia had no real problem in increasing its influence after 11 September in both Tajikistan and Kyrgyztan even from a rather high level of

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interaction, Russian relations with Uzbekistan remained on a much lower level of trust resulting from the Yeltsin heritage. Only in 2004 did the relationship take a definite turn for the better, based to some extent on the anti-terrorism struggle that followed from terrorist activities in Uzbekistan. The Andijon events and the closing of the US airbase further knit Russia and Uzbekistan together, and defence cooperation is now firmly established after the Uzbek rejoining of the CSTO. Finally, energy transits have spoken its own language, closed in as Uzbekistan is behind Russia as the most realistic export route to Europe.

16 Russia and Turkmenistan

16.1 Introduction and general developments Turkmenistan borders on the Caspian Sea in the west, Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan in the north, and Afghanistan and Iran in the south. The five million population lives along the coastline and in the Amu-Darya river valley (the Kalahari Desert is by and large uninhabitable). Turkmens are of Mongol and Turkish origin and have lived in today’s Turkmenistan since the eighth century. They have then been fighting with Persian tribes for power, lost to the Mongols in the thirteenth century and then conquered by the Turkmen leader Timur Lenk in the fourteenth century. The Turkmens never managed to create a state of their own; instead, the southern part belonged to Persia and the northern part belonged to the khanates in Chiva until the eighteenth century, when also the northern tribes came under Persian rule. Russia conquered the country only in the late nineteenth century, and after the Russian revolution and its civil war, the Red Army re-conquered Turkmenistan only in 1922 when the Central Asian autonomous republic of Turkestan (including Uzbekistan and Tajikistan) was created. Today’s Turkmenistan was founded in 1936. Islam is the major religion, but fairly secular in the clan-based society. Turkmenistan remained a one-party state after independence in 1991, and power has been concentrated in the hands of the president Saparmurad Nyazov (Turkmenbashi – leader of all Turkmens), who had been elected for life in 1999. Turkmenistan declared itself ‘neutral’ in 1993, and in 1999 it ended its agreement on border cooperation with Russia (Jonson 2004: 45). Minorities today include Russians and several of the Central Asian ethnicities. Opposition has been severely persecuted, especially after a 2002 assassination attempt. Turkmenistan is today fairly isolated but has close relations with Turkey. Turkmenistan is a passive member in the CIS, but not a member of the CST or any of the economic integrationist organizations in the CIS area. It also left the CIS visa-free regime in 1999. Turkmenistan has been a member of the PfP since 1994, and concluded an agreement in 1998 with the American oil company Mobil. Turkmenistan refused to help the anti-terrorism coalition in Afghanistan but allowed humanitarian aid to be transited through Turkmenistan. The export is mainly gas, to Russia (since 1999 also to Iran), and cotton. Oil and gas

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pipelines contracted in the late 1990s have not yet been constructed. Gas pipelines to China and to Pakistan via Afghanistan have also been discussed. Of the former Soviet republics, Turkmenistan is the one state in which Russia has had the greatest difficulties in creating a stronghold. For these reasons, there is not very much to be said about ‘hard’ security issues in the relationship. Instead, Russian–Turkmen relations have in the Putin period been coloured by politicized citizenship issues and negotiations on gas deliveries.

16.2 Politico-cultural problems In the early Putin years, relations were fairly low key. During Putin’s visit to Ashgabat in May 2000 (together with then Gazprom head Rem Vyakhirev), Putin termed Turkmenistan a ‘leading partner’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 May 2000). Developments were slow: after 11 September, there were some contacts with respect to terrorism issues, but not very much commitment. In 2002, Putin and Niyazov signed a traditional friendship and cooperation treaty to supersede an earlier one from 1992, and a ferry line with both military and civilian functions between Makhachkala and Turkmenbashi that functioned during the Soviet era resumed traffic. There were some obvious problems in the relationship. In 2002, Russia officially complained about the lack of Russian-language media in Turkmenistan. In November the same year, there was a purported coup attempt at Nyazov which was to affect the Russian–Turkmen relationship, first as an extradition issue, then when Turkmenistan tightened the screws on Russian citizens in Turkmenistan. First, in January 2003, when the issue was still very hot, the Russian Security Council Secretary Vladimir Rushailo held a five-hour discussion with Niyazov on Russian assistance in the investigation of the alleged assassination attempt, and during a telephone conversation, Putin accepted an offer by Niyazov to expel four of the five Russian citizens implicated in the assassination attempt of altogether 32 assumed plotters. In April, a security cooperation agreement was signed together with a significant gas agreement (to be discussed below). Second, in spring 2003, another problem superseded the one connected to the assassination plot: the dual citizenship issue. The Turkmen exit-visa regime had been temporarily suspended in 2001, but was restored again in March 2003 in reaction to the purported coup attempt. When Putin and Nyazov signed the security cooperation agreement and the 25-year gas agreement in April 2003, they also signed a protocol on ending dual citizenship. Putin explained that dual citizenship was no longer needed because those ethnic Russians who wanted to leave Turkmenistan had already done so, a remark so different from the actual situation that it was generally thought that this had been a demand by Niyazov as a price for the long-term contract on the sale of Turkmen gas to Russia that Russia had been trying to obtain for several years.1 Niyazov then signed a decree giving Turkmen residents with both Turkmen and Russian citizenship two months to decide which citizenship to keep. The

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Russian-speaking population of Turkmenistan panicked since this would mean that they lost the right to travel to Russia without visas. Russia criticized Turkmenistan for its ‘unilateral and hasty action’ in implementing the protocol that ended dual citizenship and pointed out that Russia had not yet ratified the document. Many Russians with dual citizenship were stopped trying to leave via the Uzbek–Turkmen border. What the ‘gas-for-people’ deal suggested was that Russia had abandoned its fellow citizens to the mercy of the Turkmen authorities, and the issue soon hit the Russia Duma where serious concern about the situation of ethnic Russians in Turkmenistan were expressed. During his state visit in June 2003, Niyazov agreed to discuss the revocation of the dual citizenship with Putin. Russia’s interpretation was that the agreement on dual citizenship was still in effect, and assured that it would defend the interests of ethnic Russians in Turkmenistan.2 By the time of the June deadline for changing citizenship, Putin suggested that the protocol he and Nyazov had signed in April was intended only to future applicants for dual citizenship, not to those who already had it. He also claimed that Niyazov had agreed to this interpretation (RFE/RL Newsline 25 June 2003). In July and August, the situation eased somewhat and there were reports of Russian citizens leaving Turkmenistan without Turkmen exit visas. The fact remained, though, that anyone with a Russian passport would from now on be treated as any foreigner in Turkmenistan. In September, Russia formally attacked Turkmenistan for its revocation of dual Russian–Turkmen citizenship. The issue had by now caused demonstrations in Moscow, and, probably as a result, Niyazov did not take part in the CIS 2003 summit in Yalta (RFE/RL Newsline 18 September 2003). The situation did not change, and in December Igor Ivanov said that Russia would try to solve the problem through the UN, OSCE and other international organizations, since talks with Turkmenistan were difficult. Some 200 Russian diplomatic notes remained unanswered by Turkmenistan (RFE/RL Newsline 8 December 2003). The jockeying over the issue continued until late 2004 when the visa requirements were cancelled.3

16.3 Economic cooperation, trade and energy issues Traditionally, Turkmen gas has been exported to Russia and further via Russian territory to the West. By the end of the 1990s, a Trans-Caspian pipeline to avoid Russia was under consideration. At the same time, Turkmen gas could in the near future also be transported to Turkey via the Russian Blue Stream pipeline across the Black Sea (expected to be completed in 2001). In December 1999, an agreement between Nyazov and Gazprom on the resumption of exports of Turkmen gas via Russia was signed, according to which Turkmenistan was prepared to export 100 billion cubic metres annually to Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 20 December 1999). Putin’s state visit in May 2000 resulted in an agreement to purchase an additional ten billion cubic metres of Turkmen gas annually, and later in the year Gazprom was able to buy another 30 billion cubic metres of gas in 2001 (RFE/RL Newsline 14 November 2000).

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In January 2001, Turkmen gas deliveries were suspended for three days after Gazprom and Turkmenistan had failed to agree on the price. Russia was now to learn a lesson on the instrumentality of ‘energy politics’ which it was later to use towards its own customers. Putin had a telephone discussion with Niyazov to solve the issue, and in February Turkmenistan signed an agreement according to which the former would sell the same amount of gas as the previous year (ten billion cubic metres), but at a slightly higher price. A year later, a similar agreement was signed for 2002. In January 2002, following three hours of talks with Niyazov, Putin suggested that a gas cartel composed of Russia, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan be created to secure the balance between supply and demand of natural gas and protect the interests of ‘Russia’s and the Central Asian states’ consumers’. Putin suggested that the four-country gas alliance would implement a ‘single export channel policy’, the basis for which could be Gazprom’s pipeline network in the region (RFE/RL Newsline 22 January 2002). Nothing came out of this obvious attempt by Russia to control the Central Asian export links. A year later, in February 2003, Gazprom head Aleksey Miller met with Niyazov to discuss further cooperation in the exploitation of Turkmen gas and its export via Russia, and in April Putin and Niyazov finally signed a strategic long-term energy agreement according to which Turkmenistan would supply gas to Russia through 2028.4 In August, Turkmenistan signed an agreement with Gazprom on the reconstruction of the gas-pipeline system connecting Central Asia with Russia (which was necessary in order to fulfil the April agreement). In December 2004, Russia was again subjected to its own type of ‘energy politics’ tactics when Turkmenistan warned that it might cut supplies of gas to Russia and Ukraine unless a price agreement was reached. This threat followed several unproductive rounds of negotiations on gas exports to Russia and Ukraine for 2005. In January 2005, Turkmenistan indeed cut off gas supplies to Russia for more than a week during the price negotiations (hitherto set at US$44 per 1,000 cubic metres and Turkmenistan wanting US$58). In February, Gazprom head Miller met with the Turkmen president on several occasions to negotiate the issue, but only in April did the price negotiations end in an agreement to keep prices at the same level as before (but to be paid in cash and with no barter trade). In October 2005, Niyazov again asked to raise prices for the 25year agreement (signed in 2004), since the gas prices in Russia had tripled (RFE/RL Newsline 21 October 2005). Negotiations on the issue soon ended in an impasse. Negotiations continued in summer 2006 on the future price of gas and there was again disagreement on prices. An agreement on prices was finally reached in September 2006 (Blagov 2006b). In conclusion, Russian–Turkmen relations under Putin show a very different pattern from Russia’s relations with other Central Asian states. The reason is first of all the fact that the Turkmen president has turned Turkmenistan into a sultanate (or Turkmenbashi) with a personality cult. Russia has had to accept the situation since Turkmenistan has been fairly independent of Russia also in the

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economic sphere (as a result of its own energy resources and its own borders to the south). Most importantly, Turkmenistan has stayed out of deep engagements with Russia in the security and defence sphere and at the same time refused to enter alternative structures. Turkmenistan has been the most ‘neutral’ of all new post-Soviet states. But it has also been a problem to Russia in the energy sector, partly because of its attempts to find exit transit routes of its gas resources not passing Russia, partly because of its price policies. The new political leadership that took over after Nyazov died in late 2006 might yield some changes in the Russian–Turkmen relationship, of course, but they are not likely to be radical.

17 Central Asia, China, NATO and the United States

After 11 September, Central Asia received a hitherto never earned attention for the first time since the Middle Ages (or at least since the Great Game in the nineteenth century). In Putin’s first term, the United States made its heavy imprints on the Central Asian sub-complex and in his second term, Central Asia appeared as a contest ground also between Russia and China. These ‘external’ actors have, of course, to some extent also influenced Russia’s relations with the individual Central Asian states, which is the reason for treating them here. The development of Russian Central Asian policies following the request by the United States to use Central Asia in its military operations in Afghanistan after 11 September was indeed remarkable. Putin held intense consultations with domestic and CIS heads of state (over the phone) during the week that followed 11 September. There were some initial uncertainties as to whether Russia actually did accept US presence in Central Asia; the Russian Defence Minister Sergey Ivanov unhesitatingly announced that he was against the USA launching an attack on Afghanistan from bases in Central Asia, echoing the standpoint of the Russian military (RFE/RL Newsline 17 September 2001). Igor Ivanov, the Russian Foreign Minister, went to Washington, DC to meet with President Bush, and he assured that it was up to the individual CIS states to decide whether or not to allow base rights (RFE/RL Newsline 20 September 2001). Sergey Ivanov continued his opposition to the idea of letting NATO into Central Asian airfields for some time (Cohen 2001). After a couple of weeks, Putin had strengthened his position and remained firm in his support of the United States and of allowing it into Central Asia. He went to great lengths to convince Russian government officials and explained his points in a nationwide broadcast (Jonson 2004: 83–86). With his approval of the Afghanistan operation, Putin in fact ‘opened the gates’ for the Americans into Central Asia. Igor Ivanov was to spread the word – every CIS member had the right to allow third countries to use its military bases (RFE/RL Newsline 26 September 2001). The Russian media debate on the issue of US bases in Central Asia was very frank, and there was also a fairly lively discussion as to what this acceptance meant in the long run.1 On the other hand, it had already become customary in Moscow to say that ‘it is better to have the Americans in Afghanistan and Uzbekistan than to have Basaev in Moscow’ (RFE/RL Newsline 18 October

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2001), meaning that Russia should be grateful for assistance in its own fight against Islamic fundamentalism. The United States repeatedly claimed that the US presence in Central Asia was not directed against Russia.2 There is no doubt that Putin meant what he initially said about a US military presence in Central Asia. He later repeatedly stated that the ‘presence of American partners in the region must be solved by Washington and the related countries on a bilateral basis’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 January 2002). Sergey Ivanov stepped into line fairly quickly six months later, suggesting that the US military presence in Central Asia was positive for Russia, since it prevented the Taliban threat from spilling over Russia’s borders: ‘Afghanistan was a link in a hotbed of instability that stretched from the Philippines to Kosovo; now this link is out and terrorists throughout the whole world including Russia are no longer training in Afghanistan.’ However, Ivanov also noted the importance of abiding by promises that the Americans would leave once the Afghan operation had been finished (RFE/RL Newsline 13 February 2002). There continued to be some disagreements within the Russian political elite throughout spring 2002. The Putin–Bush summit in May 2002 was a success for the new US–Russian relationship, and Igor Ivanov applauded US–Russian cooperation on fighting international terrorism: ‘we have almost done away with the threat to Russia and other CIS member countries through the defeat of terrorists on the territory of Afghanistan’ (RFE/RL Newsline 21 May 2002). Putin re-affirmed that he was not worried about the US forces stationed in Central Asia, since relations between Russia and the United States now could be characterized as ‘cooperation instead of competition’. He did, however, demand ‘transparency’ from the USA on the basing issue (RFE/RL Newsline 21 May 2002). Putin continued to meet with the Central Asian leaders and in July he had ‘working meetings’ with the presidents of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan on the situation in Afghanistan. Soon, however, official worries increased that the United States had come to Central Asia to stay, and in 2003 Russian demands that the United States should set a date for its withdrawal from Central Asia were commonplace. Speaking in Beijing, Igor Ivanov wanted the United Nation’s Security Council to set a timetable for the US forces in Central Asia, saying that Russia viewed the US presence strictly within the framework of ending the Taliban regime in Afghanistan (RFE/RL Newsline 28 February 2003). In 2004, these positions were further reinforced. Both the United States and the relevant Central Asian states were interested in soothing Russian fears and continued to claim that they were unfounded. There was a certain new independence of views in the Central Asian states, though, and the fact that Central Asian states participated in the Istanbul NATO summit in June 2004 (in which Russia did not participate) did not pass unnoticed in Moscow.3 Russia attempted to avoid the very possibility of a prolongation of the foreign military presence by developing a ‘frank and open dialog with the United States’ and attempted to convince the Central Asian states that there were better ways to protect their security than by accepting

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foreign military bases. Russia also reminded those countries that, in a worst-case scenario, the presence of foreign military bases could make their territory the target of retaliatory military actions (RFE/RL Newsline 17 August 2004). The timetable for withdrawal continued to poison Russia’s relations with the United States and the relevant Central Asian states. In July 2005, the SCO formally asked the United States for a timetable which the USA refused to offer, instead arguing that it would stay as long as those Central Asian governments wanted them to do so (RFE/RL Newsline 7 July 2005; RFE/RL Newsline 11 July 2005). Rumsfeld visited the Central Asian states in July to recover US positions. Russian policy was somewhat inconsistent though; when the SCO demanded the withdrawal of US bases from Central Asia, Russia suggested that the time was not yet ripe since the US was said to be ‘in a very difficult situation’ in Afghanistan (RFE/RL Newsline 6 October 2005). Lavrov, too, reassured that there was ‘no conflict of interest’ between Russia and the USA with respect to Central Asia (RFE/RL Newsline 11 October 2005). But on the other hand, he warned the CSTO countries to keep Russia’s interests in mind when they considered new foreign bases on their territory (RFE/RL Newsline 12 October 2005). During her visit to Central Asia in fall 2005 (after the closing of the American airfield in Uzbekistan), Condoleezza Rice assured that the USA did not seek a ‘permanent military presence in Tajikistan’ (RFE/RL Newsline 14 October 2005; Cohen 2005c; Blagov 2005d). It was obvious that the USA feared that Uzbekistan had set a pattern also in other Central Asian states. Below, I make a tour-de-horizon of bilateral US–Central Asia state relations to see what exactly is at stake for the United States and by implication also for Russia in Central Asia. Kazakhstan is a PfP member, but does not ‘aspire to become a member’ of NATO (RFE/RL Newsline 9 April 2004). Kazakhstan nevertheless unequivocally stood up for the United States after 11 September. One week after 11 September, the Kazakh foreign minister said that Kazakhstan was ready for ‘the strongest possible cooperation with the US and the world community in combating international terrorism’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 September 2001). Many projects were also opened in the aftermath of 11 September. For example, in October 2003, Kazakhstan began building its first military base on the Caspian Sea with financial support from the United States. In January 2004, just before a summit with Putin, Kazakhstan announced plans to modernize its anti-aircraft defence system with assistance from the United States, Great Britain and Germany. The Russian Defence Ministry commented that this would violate a 1995 CIS agreement on a common air defence system, and after Nazarbaev’s talks with Putin, the Kazakh plan for an international tender was dropped (RFE/RL Newsline 13 January 2004). In February, a five-year draft plan for military cooperation between Kazakhstan and the United States was presented (the first such document to be signed between the United States and any Central Asian state), implying a strengthening of Kazakhstan’s air defences and the military infrastructure of the Caspian region and procurement of US military

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equipment (RFE/RL Newsline 9 April 2004). Despite promises not to make deals with NATO countries on air defence, in June Kazakhstan signed a US$1 billion contract with a British arms manufacturer. Russia got upset since it believed it would give NATO access to parts of the CIS unified air defence system and expressed its extreme dissatisfaction (RFE/RL Newsline 16 June 2004). In 2005, relations between Kazakhstan and the United States and NATO improved further. Kazakhstan announced a wish for an individual action plan with NATO (IPAP), and later in the year several US high-level visits to Kazakhstan took place (among them Condoleezza Rice). In March, Kazakhstan and the USA held anti-terrorist military exercises (RFE/RL Newsline 27 July 2005). Despite this, Kazakhstan had become alerted to the competition of the United States, China and Russia in Central Asia. Russia had made its voice heard, and Kazakhstan had succumbed (Blank 2005b). Nevertheless, in February 2006, military exercises with the USA and the UK were held, and the new Kazakh military doctrine adopted in March the same year included cooperation with NATO. In September, NATO held anti-terrorism exercises in Kazakhstan and a BushNazarbaev summit took place in Washington, DC. The total US investments (since 1992) were now up to US$12 billion (RFE/RL Newsline 9 May 2006). Kyrgyztan, also a PfP member, early on got involved in the military operations of the international anti-terrorism coalition in Afghanistan. Russia initially had no objections to Kyrgyztan’s offer to use its airfields (RFE/RL Newsline 17 December 2001). In March 2002, Akaev said that the US contingent in Kyrgyztan and the airbase could remain as long as it takes to stabilize the situation in Afghanistan (RFE/RL Newsline 8 March 2002). Russia was not altogether happy, and when Akaev asked NATO Secretary-General Lord George Robertson for help in securing Kyrgyztan’s borders (RFE/RL Newsline 14 July 2003), Russia was alerted.4 The issue of the US base issue popped up every now and then in the Russian–Kyrgyz relationship. In September 2003, Kyrgyztan explained that it would not ask for the closure of the base since there still was a threat from Afghanistan. In addition, the IMU had by now been designated an international terrorist organization by the United States because of its ties to AlQaeda and the Taliban in Afghanistan, which further motivated a continuation of the base agreement. A year later, in September 2004, an accord not to hand over United States’ citizens to the International Criminal Court was signed, which further strengthened the US position in Kyrgyztan.5 However, in February 2005, the USA was denied permission to base AWACS aircraft at the Manas base. After the Andijon events in Uzbekistan in summer 2005, there were some rumours that the Manas base would be closed, although denied by Kyrgyztan (Saidazimova 2005c). In October, it was announced that the USA would rather expand its base, although US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice explained that here was no need for a permanent US base in Kyrgyztan (RFE/RL Newsline 12 October 2005; Gearan 2005). After the closing of the US base in Uzbekistan, the focus of the US–Russian competition turned to Kyrgyztan (Blank 2005d). In 2006, US–Kyrgyz relations made a few pendulum swings. Negotiations about the US base were stalled for some time in

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2006 on financing issues. On the other hand, US exercises were held in Kyrgyztan. But then again, in August, two US diplomats were expelled on uncertain grounds (RFE/RL Newsline 2 August 2006). Tajikistan is also a PfP member. In order to protect Tajikistan from ‘spillover’ effects of the military operations in Afghanistan, the United States, NATO and even the EU have been interested in assisting Tajik border control, especially since Russia’s gradual pull-out from border control cooperation. The one issue most likely to distort Russian–Tajikistan relations after 11 September, however, was rather the possibility that the United States would set up a military base (which never happened).6 It seemed that Russia had won the competition with the United States over Tajikistan (Arman 2004a; Arman 2004b). When a SCO meeting in July 2005 requested a timetable for the withdrawal of US forces from Central Asia, Tajikistan hinted that the situation had been stabilized in Afghanistan and that NATO bases were no longer needed in Kyrgyztan and Uzbekistan (RFE/RL Newsline 20 July 2005). After being ousted from Uzbekistan, rumours about a US base to be opened in Tajikistan as a compensation were emphatically denied by Rakhmonov (RFE/RL Newsline 26 September 2005). In 2006, the United States offered more aid to border security, and Rumsfeld made another visit to Tajikistan. Uzbekistan had been somewhat of a problem to Russia in the Yeltsin years. Uzbekistan became even more of an irritant to Russia immediately after 11 September, when a US airbase was allowed at Khanabad close to Afghanistan. Karimov almost mocked Russia, stating that Russians ‘do not like the fact that Uzbekistan is carrying out its own independent policy with regard to [US use of its facilities in the counter-terrorism effort]. But let me say once again that when the Soviet army invaded Afghanistan in 1979, starting a big war, no one asked for our approval’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 September 2001). Russia kept to its belief that there was no ‘legal basis’ for American troops to remain in Uzbekistan after the completion of the anti-terrorist campaign in Afghanistan (RFE/RL Newsline 17 October 2001; Baird 2001). At the time, the general view in Russia seemed to be that the United States backed Uzbekistan and Russia backed Tajikistan in their competition for Central Asia. In effect, the USA had become a security guarantor of Uzbekistan (Jonson 2004: 89). Actually, the Russian warnings seemed to have had some effect, since the Uzbek position began to change. In December 2002, Karimov warned against the militarization of Central Asia in the shadow of the Afghanistan operations: ‘[m]ilitary rivalry between the great powers in an overheated region is counterproductive’ (RFE/RL Newsline 13 December 2002). Relations with the United States remained good, however, and in 2003 security cooperation with the United States did take place, including semi-military exercises.7 In September, Uzbekistan was the only Central Asian country to be invited to participate in the NATO exercises in Romania, and during a visit by NATO Secretary-General Lord George Robertson, Uzbekistan was said to be a model for other NATO partner states. The United States was trying to reform the Uzbek armed forces and also provided military equipment (RFE/RL Newsline 26 September 2003).

212 Russia and Asian regional sub-complex In 2004, this trend continued. During a three-day visit by the US Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, it was announced that the US military base in Uzbekistan could remain a permanent basis, although Rumsfeld denied that the United States had any plans to set up permanent military bases in Central Asia (RFE/RL Newsline 25 February 2004). When Uzbekistan ran into terrorism problems on its home turf in spring 2004, the United States offered support. At the same time, the Uzbek human rights record forced the United States and NATO to protest.8 In December, Uzbekistan continued to support the US-led war on terrorism until the ‘mission in Afghanistan is over’ (RFE/RL Newsline 30 December 2004). In 2005, however, US relations to Uzbekistan worsened due to the increased US criticism of Uzbekistan’s human rights record. After the Andijon events, this criticism culminated, and in fall 2005 the US base in Uzbekistan was closed as a result (Cohen 2005a; Synovitz 2005; McMahon 2005). This was a definite turn in US involvement in Central Asia. Sergey Ivanov was happy about this turn of events, of course (Goltz 2005). In 2006, Uzbekistan criticized the ‘information aggression’ of the United States (Kimmage 2006), and closed several US NGOs, as well as a US mining company. The UNHRC also had to leave, probably because the UN insisted on an investigation of the Andijon events (Saidazimova 2006). Uzbekistan was lost to Russia. Turkmenistan never had any close relations with the United States but actually offered assistance in flying in humanitarian aid to Afghanistan after 11 September. Only in October 2004, the NATO Secretary-General Jaap de Hoop Scheffer met with Niyazov to discuss the possibility of getting air and land transit corridors through Turkmenistan for its operations in Afghanistan. In 2005, there were several meetings with US officials, and there were rumours of a possible US base request in Turkmenistan; but if there ever was such a request, it was denied (RFE/RL Newsline 8 September 2005). Some believed it simply to be Russian disinformation (Blank 2005c). Summing up, the argument here is that the United States’ involvement in Central Asia significantly heightened Russia’s own profile in the region, and that 11 September was the catalyst without which Russia’s security stance in the region might indeed have remained low key. In a sense, Russia rediscovered Central Asia and was alerted to its own security relations in the region and made it reinvest resources. When the USA withdraws from its present military engagement, the region will become even more dependent on Russia than it has been in the past and will develop into an area almost effortlessly regained by Russia (Nygren 2003; Pershin 2003; Feiser 2003). But then again, there is China. China has been an active economic player in Central Asia since the demise of the USSR. Since 1991, China has trade missions in all five Central Asian countries and has invested altogether US$1 billion (O’Rourke 2005). The role China is playing in the SCO is also proof of an evident security-oriented interest. There are basically five sets of reasons for China to be interested in Central Asia:

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politically and economically because of its energy importance, a bridge between Asia and Europe, bilaterally to develop cooperation, increase stability in Xinjiang in northern China, and reconstruct the Silk Road (Xing 2001: 152–153). Today, China is in Central Asia also to help Russia exclude the United States from the regional sub-complex (McDermott 2003). This is partly the result of Russia’s inclination to regard China as an ally to counter the power of the United States. The energy potential of the region and China’s own energy needs coupled to Russia’s need for investments in the Far East are powerful forces for Sino–Russian relations as well, and Putin has been keen to leave the door open for closer relations with China since he came to power. The potential for further cooperation with China in Central Asia is growing, and today the Russian–Chinese competition in Central Asia seems to concern Russian planners more than the US military presence there (Blagov 2002a). Maybe because of that, in the last days of 2004, Fradkov agreed to the construction of the US$18 billion oil pipeline from Irkutsk (in western Siberia) to Nakhodka (on the Sea of Japan), a pipeline of 4,200 km to avoid Chinese territory and designed to export to the entire Pacific region (including the United States) (RFE/RL Newsline 4 January 2005; Vazhenkov 2005). In an important speech on China in August, Putin specifically mentioned oil and gas exports to China as a field of cooperation, to alleviate China’s disappointment at the decision to circumvent China (RFE/RL Newsline 10 August 2005). In 2004, Kazakhstan developed security cooperation with China and thus became an arena for competition with Russia (Alibekov 2004). In October, the two raised cooperation ‘in fighting international terrorism, extremism, organized crime, and the drug business to a qualitatively new level’ (RFE/RL Newsline 13 October 2004). Kazakhstan explained that ‘stable and predictable’ relations with China were a top priority, and that future military exercises with China ‘should be aimed at counteracting specific threats posed by terrorist organizations’ (RFE/RL Newsline 16 December 2004). In 2005, China also promised military aid to Kazakhstan, and the two countries established a strategic partnership during a Chinese state visit to Kazakhstan. China has also been involved in Kazakhstan’s biggest oil pipeline project ever, in building and financing a pipeline worth an estimated US$9 billion, the first oil pipeline from Central Asia not crossing Russian territory (Rashid 2000; Pannier 2003). The construction from Kazakhstan to China of the 2,400 km oil pipeline began in 2003 and the first 450 km was finished in spring 2004. The two sides were said to take ‘an active approach to the project’ (RFE/RL Newsline 8 April 2004). In May 2004, an agreement on the other 1,000 km section to the Chinese (Xiniang) border was signed during an official visit by Nazarbaev to China, and the construction began in September 2004. The Kazakh oil pipeline to China was inaugurated in November 2005 and Kazakh oil began to flow to China in May 2006, fully operational in late 2006. In October 2006, China bought part of a Kazakh oil field, and a December summit between the two sides envisaged further cooperation in the oil industry. Nuclear energy cooperation

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also became a fact in 2004, and in November 2005 Kazakhstan also signed a US$10 billion agreement on selling electricity to China. China made its entrance into Kyrgyztan in 2003 when the foreign ministers of the two countries signed a treaty of cooperation and friendship, praising China’s contribution to regional security. Kyrgyztan was at the time interested in attracting Chinese investments in developing the Kyrgyz hydroelectric capacity and transportation and communications networks. In August 2004, new military cooperation efforts were intended primarily to combat the threat of international terrorism, and in September a number of agreements were signed including technical and economic cooperation. In August 2005, the Kyrgyz, Kazakh and Tajik defence ministers visited China during the historic Russian–Chinese military exercises. In summer 2006, Kyrgyztan and China signed another 13 bilateral agreements and there were serious Chinese investments in Kyrgyz infrastructure projects, among them in nuclear energy. Tajikistan’s relations with China developed late and only in summer 2006 did a summit take place. Joint military counter-terrorism exercises were held in September. Not only Russia’s relations with Uzbekistan took a turn for the better from 2004 when the Uzbek–US relations turned worse, so did China’s relations with Uzbekistan. In June 2004, the Chinese President Hu Jintao met with Karimov and signed several cooperation agreements; Karimov noted that the two countries stood united in their fight against the ‘three evils’ of international terrorism, separatism and extremism (RFE/RL Newsline 16 June 2004). Russia did not seem to mind the development, although it ought to (Blank 2004b). In May 2005, it was announced that a US$600 million Chinese investment into Uzbek oil and gas fields had been agreed upon, and in September 2006 China began to explore oil and gas resources in Uzbekistan. In addition, Uzbekistan and China signed a security agreement. China’s relations with Turkmenistan have so far been limited. China–Turkmen oil pipeline discussions in the 1990s did not take off due to the high costs involved (Rashid 2000). In January 2006, plans for Turkmen gas export to China were announced (RFE/RL Newsline 18 January 2006; Kimmage 2006a). In March, there was a Turkmen–China summit, and in the fall a Turkmen–China gas pipeline agreement was finally signed after long negotiations; export was to begin in 2009 (Torbakov 2006b). The most spectacular Chinese security development in the region took place in summer 2005. In August that year, the first ever joint Russia–China military exercises (named ‘Peace Mission 2005’) took place with some 10,000 troops and with the Russian Pacific Fleet naval vessels and Russian long-distance bombers (from the Pskov Airborne Division). Putin called the exercises ‘. . . probably . . . the largest war game in the history of our relations [with] the most advanced weaponry from our side and major military contingents on the part of our Chinese partners’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 August 2005).9 In Russia, there was much speculation about the real objectives of the exercises and whether or not

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the exercises were directed against the United States. In fact, there were some statements to the effect that Russia and China would work together to shape the world in the twenty-first century (RFE/RL Newsline 22 August 2005). Sergey Ivanov noted that such joint exercises might become regular, and that ‘the games raise Russian–Chinese relations to a higher level’ (RFE/RL Newsline 24 August 2005), and his Chinese counterpart suggested that the games ‘. . . reflected a change in the international situation’ (RFE/RL Newsline 25 August 2005). There were no discussions of establishing a military alliance with China, although speculations to that effect appeared in Moscow (Cohen 2005b). In conclusion, both the United States and China have become involved in the Russia-led Central Asian regional sub-complex although partly for different reasons. While the United States largely became involved only for pragmatic politico-military reasons after 11 September, China got involved long before Putin entered the stage, and largely for economic reasons. While the USA has caused some problems to Russia in Central Asia, China seems not to have done that. This is particularly evident in the politico-military sphere where Russia and China have come much closer with the creation of the SCO and the antiterrorism struggle of Central Asia. While the USA has an agenda that at times directly contradicts that of Putin in Central Asia – e.g. the ‘export of democracy’ – China seems to be on the same side as Putin with respect to Central Asia. Whether or not this will hold for very long depends first of all on the United States, both as an external actor in Central Asia but also because of its ‘gluing function’ in relations between Russia and China.

Part V

Russia as a regional great power Analysis of the past and future of Putin’s attempt to rebuild Greater Russia – objectives, strategies, policies, instruments and prospects for success

Introduction In this concluding chapter, a general analysis of President Putin’s attempt to rebuild ‘Greater Russia’ is made. As opposed to the geographical, thematic and chronological descriptions in the chapters above, the structure of this chapter is slightly different. To the extent that the above chapters basically constitute ‘analytical descriptions’ of 11 bilateral relationships, this concluding chapter rather aims at an ‘interpretative’ analysis of some of the more general aspects of Putin’s re-integration strategies vis-à-vis the CIS countries. The empirical material used in the above chapters is ‘recycled’ for the analysis. The first sub-chapter below basically contains summaries of the more important developments of the respective bilateral relationship. The result is a sort of ‘map’ of Putin’s bilateral policies over time. The more general the pattern of the bilateral relationships is, the more of the pattern may be attributable to Russia (and not the other actor in the bilateral relationship), and inversely, the more diverse policies are in the various bilateral relationships, the more the pattern may be attributable to relationship-specific phenomena. The second sub-chapter compares Putin’s strategies and policies in the three regional security sub-complexes in search of the ‘larger picture’, i.e. the extent to which Russian strategies and policies in the sub-complexes are part of a greater game with external powers like China (in the Central Asian subcomplex), Iran, Turkey, the EU, NATO and the USA in the Central Asian and Caucasus sub-complexes, and the EU, USA and NATO in the European subcomplex. The third sub-chapter deals with the three basic policy arenas of Putin’s foreign policy vis-à-vis the CIS states, the politico-military, the politico-

economic and the politico-cultural arenas. Here too, traits of continuity and change are equally important in drawing more general conclusions, or to say something about the ‘homogeneity or heterogeneity’ of the regional subcomplexes, e.g. whether or not they differ with respect to political and economic issues. The role of security and energy politics in rebuilding Greater Russia is of particular interest. There is also reason to compare the Russian handling of the conflict-ridden hot spots within the CIS space, the Transdniester, Abkhazian and South Ossetian separatist conflicts, and the Nagorno-Karabakh inter-state conflict, since the Russian involvement at times seems more to be the result of inability or unwillingness to find solutions than to actual support of the actors involved. In the fourth sub-chapter, an attempt to evaluate the prospects for success of Putin’s foreign policy strategies in the Russia-led regional security complex will be made. Is it possible, on the basis of the above analysis, to draw some general conclusions about Russia’s foreign policy towards the CIS countries and its degree of survivability after 2008?

18 Conclusions

18.1 Putin – country by country, summary of developments in Russia’s relations with CIS organizations and with individual CIS countries Below, the focus is on the general developments of the relationships during Putin’s reign, not looking too much into the details of the different arenas. First, however, the multilateral context and the organizations of the CIS region are looked into. The CIS as an organization inherited several of its problems from the Yeltsin era, the most important of which is the lack of incentives to enforce and implement agreements on principles reached among heads of state. The states of the CIS have generally been reluctant to accept more than verbal adherence to the broader principles of cooperation. The huge number of agreements that never were ratified or implemented rather suggests a failure of the organization. Simply too many interests are involved, some of which directly oppose Russian re-integration interests. Concentric circles of CIS states that are closing in on Russia or distancing themselves from Russia (in 2006) suggests the following situation. Table 18.1 Russia’s relations with the CIS countries in 1999 and in 2006 Closest relations

Very close relations

1999 Russia and:

Belarus

Armenia Kyrgyztan Kazakhstan Tajikistan

2006 Russia and:

Belarus

Armenia Kyrgyztan Kazakhstan Tajikistan

Fairly close relations

Azerbaijan Uzbekistan

Not close relations

Hostile relations

Ukraine Turkmenistan Azerbaijan

Georgia Uzbekistan Moldova

Ukraine Moldova Turkmenistan

Georgia

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Table 18.2 Membership structures of integrative organizations in 2006

Russia Belarus Armenia Kyrgyztan Kazakhstan Tajikistan Azerbaijan Uzbekistan Moldova Turkmenistan Ukraine Georgia

EES

SES

CST

SCO

EEC EEC – EEC EEC EEC – EEC – – – –

SES SES – – SES – – – – – SES –

CST CST CST CST CST CST CST CST* – – – –

SCO – – SCO SCO SCO – SCO – – – –

Path development 1999–2006 anti-/pro-Rus pro-Rus pro-Rus pro-Rus pro-Rus pro-Rus uncertain anti- then pro-Rus anti- then pro- then anti-Rus ‘neutral’ anti- then pro- then anti-Rus anti-Rus

Note * Uzbekistan joined in 2006.

The future of the multilateral institutions depends on the extent to which the Russian leadership will continue to value their existence. Under Putin, Russia has actively developed a capacity to deal with its problems and prospects on a bilateral basis, which remains its major strategy. The history so far does not contradict the statement that Russia is the major party in any of the 11 bilateral relationships under investigation here, and its experience with multilateral relations in multilateral fora is coloured by the ineffectiveness of earlier attempts to use them for integrative purposes. The only political integration attempt worth mentioning is the Russia–Belarus Union, which from its birth in the mid-1990s has remained almost a virtual organization with very little substance. Putin was reluctant to continue the inherited project, and instead tried to turn it into a real ‘integration-to-death’ project (which Lukashenka found impossible to accept). Economic integration was a pre-condition for any closer political relations between the two. The more successful integration attempts from Russia’s point of view are rather to be found in the bilateral relationships where Russia in recent years has been able to buy itself control of considerable parts of the domestic energy sectors: oil, gas and electricity production facilities and distribution networks. This rather aggressive strategy has been fairly successful in all three subcomplexes because of the indebtedness of many CIS states to Russia or their need for investments and know-how. The energy dependence of the poorest of those states has rather increased with the assets-for-debt solution since domestic energy production and distribution now often belong to Russian state-owned or state-controlled companies. The most significant change from the Yeltsin era in the European sub-complex is the immediate attempts by Putin in 2000 to come to terms with Russia’s most

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important neighbour Ukraine. While the most contentious issues had already been solved (the withdrawal of nuclear weapons, the Crimean status, the division of the Black Sea fleet) by the time Putin entered the Kremlin, Putin’s offensive was made against the backdrop of a possible Ukrainian NATO membership. Putin managed to turn the relationship around in the first years, helped by Kuchma’s increasing international isolation. The fact that Russia and the United States then joined forces in their resistance to international terrorism defused (for a while) the NATO enlargement issue. The Tuzla events in fall 2003 showed that Putin had decided not to let minor issues stand in the way of the larger ones, that of integrating Ukraine with Russia. The economic issues of the relationship initially focused on energy. The settlement of the gas debt in 2000 and the continuous discussions on gas and oil deliveries and transits opened the gates for a more serious development of economic relations. The greater issue is that Russian capital has been quite active in Ukraine and managed to take control of much of the infrastructurally important industries, including gas and oil distribution facilities. Unfortunately for Putin, the objectives that all worked well for him in his first term in office also turned against him with the advent of a new Ukrainian president and the rejuvenated attempts to join the EU and NATO. With the Ukrainian ‘orange revolution’ itself in late 2004, Putin entered a different game board and found himself involved in a virtual ‘war of election norms’ with the West, which he lost. In the struggle that followed with the new Ukrainian leadership, Russia’s options to influence Ukraine were fewer, but still strong. The increases of energy prices in 2005 and 2006 have not destroyed the Ukrainian economy, but the economic dependency will most certainly be felt for the simple reason that Russia is much more important to the Ukrainian economy than the Ukrainian economy is to Russia. Ukraine’s only antedote to Russian dominance is the ‘transit weapon’, the effectiveness of which is very doubtful in the long run. Relations with Belarus have since the mid-1990s focused on the Union issue. While the Union has not materialized in the way Lukashenka once wanted, Putin was to make things even worse for him. Putin neglected the general idea of linking up with Belarus on an equal basis. More importantly, there would be no political integration without prior economic integration: relations would be ‘economized’. Putin played the modern integration game – political integration as a consequence of economic integration rather than the other way around. With this strategy, Russian capital would simply swallow the Belarusian economy. To Putin, the major economic issue has been energy transit and infrastructure. Lukashenka needed a few repeat lessons before he learned the hard lesson that the ‘transit weapon’ is less effective if one is dependent on that same energy producer. Cheap Russian energy was a thing of the past, and when Lukashenka closed the pipelines, he only re-invigorated the Russian desire to get control of the pipeline system. Defence cooperation is the one sector where cooperation has been successful already from the beginning of the post-Soviet relationship. In practical terms,

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the defence relationship is the closest within the CIS and is seen as a model relationship that has continued in Putin’s years, although at times Putin seems to have pulled the breaks. By 2005, Putin and Lukashenka found some comfort in their common resistance to Western attempts to bring electoral democracy to Belarus. The fact that Putin and Lukashenka ended up on the same side in the ‘war on election norms’ after the ‘colour revolutions’ in 2004 and 2005 changed the situation for Lukashenka. Putin is now Lukashenka’s only major friend, a risky position to be in. While Yeltsin more or less ignored Moldova and never paid it a state visit, Putin went there almost right away. In 2001, Putin joined the new Moldovan president in the now victorious anti-Romanian stance of the Moldovan government. Russia’s relations with Moldova have, ever since 1992, been strongly coloured by the Transdniester conflict. There seemed to be a willingness on Putin’s side to come to terms with the conflict issues, but very soon, it became obvious that the 1999 OSCE Istanbul agreement on withdrawal of Russian troops and weapons would not be implemented. There were too many actors involved (and some with murky motives), and the Transdniester leadership was sometimes opposite to Putin’s. Very often, Putin seemed to give in to the demands of the Transdniester leadership and the Russian military that linked the withdrawal to NATO enlargement. The many disturbances to the evacuation process of weapons and troops that had begun were accompanied by attempts to spoil also the negotiations on the future status of Transdniester, negotiations that in themselves were difficult because of the totally opposite interests of the Transdniester and Moldovan leaderships with respect to federalization plans. The federalization issue and the withdrawal issue were strongly linked, and when the Transdniester regime began to use ethnic, language and school issues in their attempt to sabotage the negotiation process, Russian–Moldovan relations were also negatively affected. In conclusion, while Yeltsin was a more passive observer of development in Moldova, Putin was more active but also more firm in his goal not to give up Transdniester. Immediately upon arrival in the Kremlin, Putin set out to improve relations with Azerbaijan to solve some of the Caspian Sea issues that hampered developments and production of hydrocarbon resources in the region. Russia needed Azerbaijan and Kazakhstan in an attempt to find common ground, particularly since Turkmenistan and Iran were likely to continue their opposition to any deal that would render them less fortunate than the other littoral states. Russian–Azeri relations have improved ever since, and the fact that Azerbaijan has been looking for membership in EU and NATO has not overly disturbed Russia. Relations with Armenia have been very close, and part of the reason is the Armenian security dependency on Russia. Putin has managed to improve the defence capabilities of Armenia at the same time as he has improved Russia’s relations with Azerbaijan, no small feat by a traditionally heavy-handed great power. Putin has also changed economic relations with Armenia: here, Russia

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has managed to get paid for old debts by collecting assets, particularly in the energy sector, to an extent not seen in any other relationship. Of late, Armenia has been looking to the EU which does not seem to bother Russia much. The fact that NATO is no option seems to be a satisfactory enough guarantee for Russia of future Armenian allegiance. Russian relations with Azerbaijan and Armenia have been coloured by the attempts to find a solution to the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. The conflict remains a problem to Putin in handling relations with Armenia and Azerbaijan, but at the same time the conflict also to some extent keeps other powers out of the region. Putin’s somewhat greater eagerness to find a solution to the interstate conflict is also a way of increasing energy security in the region. Putin’s relations with Georgia have been the worst by far of all relations with other CIS countries. At its worse, US interference helped to avoid the most flagrantly violent Russian excesses. There are many reasons for Putin’s problems with Georgia. One is the fact that success or failure in the second Chechnya war is partly dependent on the possibilities to clear Georgian territory of Chechen warriors. In fall 2002, Russian armed intrusions in Pankisi Gorge were barely avoided. When the United States contributed to Georgia’s ability to guard its borders, the situation was truly strange from Putin’s perspective: the United States was siding with Georgia and thus stopping Russia from chasing ‘international terrorists’ on foreign territory, the inspiration for which was the US chase of the Taliban in Afghanistan. Another Russian problem with Georgia was Yeltsin’s promise in 1999 to withdraw Russian troops and weapons, a promise that Putin hesitated to fulfil. The protracted conflict over the withdrawal of bases and troops, solved only in the last years of Putin’s second term, has been linked to the other obvious Russian problems in Georgia, that of the two ‘frozen conflicts’ in Abkhazia and South Ossetia. The problems of Abkhazia have never been close to a solution since 1993. Part of the problem is Georgia’s total inability to control its own territory and that Abkhazia is controlled by Abkhazian troops and Russian peacekeepers. Abkhazia is determined not to enter into any federation with Georgia and would indeed prefer to become part of Russia. In all practical terms, Abkhazia is a ‘de facto’ state (Lynch 2004). In Abkhazia, there are many actors, too, and many with guns. First, the Abkhazian government military and paramilitary forces; second, the Russian peacekeeping force, those same troops that supported the Abkhazians during the civil war (but also prevented the worst excesses of ethnic cleansing); third, the many paramilitary troops consisting of Georgians who had fled Abkhazia; fourth, the armed militias of different clans; and fifth, the many criminal groups operating along all borders in the region, including Chechen warriors. The many actors create problems with respect to solving the most practical issues, those of transportation, visas and foreign travel. The new Georgian leadership after the ‘rose revolution’ used threats of military violence to solve the conflict, but with no success. The deadlock is total. After the ‘rose revolution’, South Ossetia (which had been comparatively calm throughout the

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1990s) appeared as another stage for armed violence in Georgia when the new Georgian government attempted to regain control of the region. Also here, the South Ossetian leadership rejects a permanent federalization solution and rather prefers to join Russia. This conflict, too, is based on the contradictory goals of independence versus integration, and actors in the region are many. In Central Asia, there are also some serious conflicts, although no ‘frozen conflicts’. Here, geo-political and geo-economic conflict aspects are the more obvious, and not only because of the many ‘external’ powers: the bounty itself – oil and gas resources and pipelines to markets in Asia and Europe – are increasingly influencing developments. The geo-strategic game plays out most clearly in the Caspian Sea region where a militarization is taking place. Russia is one of five international actors bordering on the sea, but without any agreement on how to divide up the seabed, many economic activities are inhibited. Nevertheless, in the medium- to long-term perspective, the resources will be extracted, and the only power effectively denying others to do that is Russia. The Caspian Sea epitomizes the link between Central Asia and the Caucasus, and Russia is inevitably involved in both these sub-complexes, most evidently seen in ‘pipeline politics’ (pipelines will either have to pass Russia or pass the Caspian Sea and the Caucasus to find international markets). The link to the Black Sea further adds to the Great Game since it involves also Turkey. The fact that there is now also an emerging exit alternative for Central Asian oil and gas to China and South Asia adds to the geo-politically spicy soup. Kazakhstan has continued as a close political, military and economic ally under Putin despite Kazakhstan’s ‘openness’ to China and the United States. Kazakhstan does not have very many options when it comes to finding alternative security allies because of its geographical location and is not likely to leave the Russian embrace. Economic and social relations also help to cement the two together. Russian relations with Kyrgyztan have been almost as close, but for different reasons. Kyrgyztan has been heavily indebted to Russia and has no alternative security provider. Kyrgyztan’s problems are basically domestic and assistance from other external actors is but marginal. Russia is very likely to remain Kyrgyztan’s major ally, despite some Kyrgyz flirtations with the United States and China. The fact that Russian capital has operated diligently to take control of much of Kyrgyztan’s few valuable industrial assets binds Kyrgyztan even closer to Russia. Relations with Tajikistan have been strongly coloured by the large security deficit of the country and its lack of resources to counter hard and soft security threats arising from the perforated borders with neighbouring countries, especially Afghanistan. Russia is the security provider par excellence which is evidenced by the recent establishment on its territory of a Russian military base. In economic terms, Tajikistan is in a situation similar to that of Kyrgyztan: much has been bought by Russian capital, especially in the energy sector. Tajikistan is not likely to fall prey to external powers. Relations with Uzbekistan have changed drastically over the post-Soviet period, from being the major contestant to Russian domination in Central Asia in the 1990s, then the closest US ally in

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the region after 11 September, and then a return to the Russian bosom in summer 2005. In the economic sphere, the Uzbek dependency on Russia is based on its need for energy transits. Relations with Turkmenistan are the most uncertain of Russia’s relations in Central Asia. The basic reason is the domestic political situation in Turkmenistan and the fact that Turkmenistan is not entirely dependent on Russia in security and economy terms since it has its own energy resources and has alternative energy export outlets. In conclusion, what are Putin’s general foreign policy goals towards the CIS countries? Is it at all possible to talk of general foreign policy goals? In my view, it is. Today, by the end of Putin’s second term, these goals and the priority between them seem fairly clear in the three policy arenas. This in itself is not strange, since they correspond to the arenas of Soviet disintegration a decade earlier, the destruction of Russia’s ‘cultural, political and economic identity’ (Tsygankov 2003: 105). Russia’s prime interest is to stabilize Eurasia through politico-military balancing and state-organized geo-economic projects in the region (Tsygankov 2003: 108). The general strategy today currently has the epithet of the ‘liberal empire’, a notion that was quickly seized by the neo-Eurasianists since it provided ‘an ideological rationale for pursuing a controlling interest’ in the CIS area (Torbakov 2003d). The leading spokesman for and introducer of the notion of a ‘liberal empire’ was Anatoly Chubais, Russia’s former privatization head and today the head of Unified Energy Systems. In September 2003, he gave a policy speech and wrote an article in which he argued that Russia’s top twenty-first century goal should be to develop ‘liberal capitalism’ and create a ‘liberal empire’, the strategic tasks of which would be to re-engage itself as the economic and cultural ‘natural and unique leader’ of the CIS. Chubais argued that Russia should ‘develop, strengthen and enforce its leading positions in this part of the world for the next 50 years’ (quoted in Jonson 2004: 193).1 The aim was not to restore the former Soviet Union but to be guided by the liberal values of democracy, market economy and economic cooperation, and the means would be Russian culture, Russian business, and support of freedom, human rights and democracy (Jonson 2004: 193–194).

18.2 Putin – regional security complex by complex, developments in Russian relations with the three regional security complexes – the larger picture The purpose here is to search for shifts on emphasis among the three subcomplexes, and to investigate the extent to which external powers have influenced Putin’s policies in the sub-complexes. The extent to which Russia has shifted its focus from one to another sub-complex will also be dealt with. The implicit question stems from questions like ‘is Russia going Asian’ or ‘is Russia going European’, or to use a Russian political terminology, are there any shifts in Putin’s choice of foreign policy vectors?

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Since the sub-complexes are not in any way homogeneous with respect to their constituent (state) parts, it is inevitable to draw the individual countries of the regions into the picture once again. It is, nevertheless believed that a separation of the ‘region-ness’ of the three sub-complexes is possible and will yield similarities and dissimilarities as well as changes over time. The one thing that verbally seems the same under Putin as under Yeltsin is the claim that relations with the CIS countries rank the highest of all Russia’s foreign relations. This notion has had a doctrinal character ever since the 1993 Foreign Policy Concept. This is also the ranking in the Foreign Policy Concept from June 2000, and in virtually all important foreign policy speeches by Putin since then. It is important to note that Putin does not necessarily refer to the CIS as an organization but the CIS countries as such; Putin has preferred to deal with the CIS countries bilaterally. This is important for several reasons. First, a bilaterally based foreign policy is much simpler than a multilaterally based foreign policy, both in terms of ideology and objectives and in terms of organization. Second, in all bilateral relations with CIS countries, Russia is the ‘big brother’ and by far the greatest power, and the possibility of actually ‘uniting against Russia’ is much less effective when the hegemon conducts its foreign policy on a bilateral basis. The type of foreign policy instruments at Russia’s disposal fits much better bilateral than multilateral relationships. Putin’s different general world view, doctrine, strategies and policies (compared to Yeltsin’s) are not directly identifiable in the ‘European’ sub-complex, which is a reflection of the fact that this sub-complex has held and still holds the greatest rewards as well as the greatest dangers to Russia’s future status as a great power. The ‘Western vector’ is as important to Putin as it was to Yeltsin. While Yeltsin managed to keep Ukraine, Belarus and Moldova out of the ‘claws of the Western wolves’, that was more because of Western negligence than Russian activity. Yeltsin focused on putting a brake on Western expansion into Eastern Europe and the Baltic states, not on precluding a further expansion into the heartland of Greater Russia.2 The three countries of the sub-complex are very different and each has a particular position in this contest for influence, and they are treated separately. Among the three, Ukraine is by far the most important, both as a bounty and as a country much too important to Russia and its past and future not to be fought over. Belarus is more or less taken for granted as quasi-Russian territory anyway, and there is no real contest over it, and Moldova is far too unimportant to all sides – what the game amounts to is, again, the future of Ukraine. First of all, Ukraine is the major contestant to Russian power in the former Soviet space, even if this does not account for much in an open conflict with Russia. Second, historically, culturally, socially, economically, militarily and politically, Ukraine is the closest (and almost inherent part) to Russia. Third, the political and economic potential of Ukraine to Europe and Russia is larger than often suggested (second only to Belarus). In terms of security, Ukraine has been orienting itself towards NATO since the mid-1990s. At the same time, Russia has made it a major political objective to resist any further eastward enlargement

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of NATO to include former Soviet republics (after the ‘loss’ of the three Baltic states). The fact of the closer Russia–NATO relationship in the post-11 September environment should not fool anyone as to Putin’s deep-felt feelings about a Ukrainian NATO membership. While there seemed to be an open window of opportunity for Putin for a short while in summer 2004, it was closed with the orange revolution. The new Ukrainian leadership sees no reason to change the course towards NATO membership today and the only obstacle is the Ukrainian people itself (which is deeply split on the issue). In the economic sphere, there has been a similar Ukrainian vacillation between Russia and Europe. Ukraine opted for EU membership in the late 1990s, and in Putin’s first term Kuchma was the major brake towards EU membership. The fact that the EU did not foresee Ukrainian membership in its ENP structure was a disappointment to the new Ukrainian leadership which has consistently argued that the road ahead is in the western direction. The prospects are far from evident. One of the major problems is the attempt of the Ukrainian economy to withstand the influence of Russian capital in major industrial enterprises. Putin (or his successor) is not likely to give up Ukraine without resistance, and is assisted by structural advantages. Belarus is a much less likely object for contest in the European sub-complex, and the future of Belarus will be decided by the fate of its present political leader. In security terms, Belarus is an asset more than a burden to Russia since it constitutes the ‘front country’ against Western influence (emanating from the Baltic states and Poland). This is fully in line with traditional Russian geopolitical thinking. No surprise then that the defence cooperation of Russia and Belarus is still used as a model for military integration within the CIS. Paradoxically, without an impetus into privatization and integration into world markets, Belarus is even more likely an easy prey for Russian capital once inevitable privatization is let loose in Belarus. Moldova is a different story altogether. The security dimension in the Russia–Moldovan relationship has two basic ingredients; one is prospects for EU membership and the other is Transdniester. Historically, it is difficult to claim a close relation of Russia to Moldova, and Dniester has for long been a sort of border river between the ‘Slavs’ and the ‘Europeans’. There are today no real prospects for Moldova in NATO although fairly strong forces in Moldova want it (even at the price of giving up Transdniester). Russia is not a security provider to Moldova, but it is a strong economic interlocutor. The poverty of Moldova has caused some hesitation in the EU, and the Moldovan leadership has been reluctant to see the strife for EU membership as a choice between Russia/CIS and Europe, although most political forces see the EU as the more attractive future. With respect to the Caucasus regional sub-complex, the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict effectively blocks any development towards a ‘positive’ security community. Russia has felt responsibility for solving the conflict, but also for not drawing external actors into the region. Georgia has remained the unavoidable problem to Putin. Yeltsin’s concession to the West in 1999 to withdraw

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bases from Georgia was opposed by Putin. Part of the reason was strategic (not letting anyone else in), part was related to the Chechnya war and the Pankisi Gorge problem, and part to the fact that Putin did not want to let go of the two secessionist enclaves Abkhazia and South Ossetia. Here, the stakes are high, and one should always remember that the areas as such, especially Abkhazia, is not necessarily ‘Georgian’ (unless one accepts Stalin’s re-drawing of maps). Putin’s dilemma is that most of today’s Abkhaz population have Russian passports and feel closer to Russia than to Georgia, and at the same time he is principally against secession. The equation does not add up, of course, and therefore Putin has been pursuing a status quo ‘in-security’ policy. The increased focus of the West on the Middle East has added fuel to the suspicion in Russia that the Caucasus is indeed being ripped away from the map of Greater Russia. September 11 and the Iraq war reinforced an important parameter in the Caucasian scenery that emerged in the mid-1990s: the presence of the United States, NATO and the European Union. The United States has been fairly active in all three Caucasus states, both in economics and in defence and has been accompanied by the EU in the first and NATO in the second arena. The very presence of the United States, NATO and the EU in the Caucasus has changed the political, military and economic maps. Most important, it has put into question the very existence of this sub-complex as part of the larger Russia-led regional complex. When the new Georgian political leadership asked for the obvious – control of its recognized territories – Putin was faced with a dilemma from which it is difficult to withdraw. The external penetration has its roots in much of Russia’s own mismanagement of its hegemonic role in the region, especially with Georgia. But even so, the loss even of parts of Caucasus to external security providers would be a loss of something that was hard fought over for centuries. Putin’s charm offensive in 2000 yielded the best results in relations to Azerbaijan, although Azerbaijan has managed fairly well in ‘neutralizing’ Russian influence, partly on its own, and partly because of the support it received from the United States, NATO and the EU. The further into Putin’s second term we dive, the more obvious it is that a very active Russian strategy is needed not to lose more of its security influence. After all, NATO and EU are influential competitors. Armenia is much less likely to be lured into the NATO embrace, while the EU still is an attractive alternative. Paradoxically enough, Russia is aided by the lack of progress in all three Caucasus states with respect to the basic criteria spelled out for membership both in NATO and the EU, i.e. in the development of democracy, civil society and market economy. Here, Russia has an indisputable benefit in its reliance on historic bonds, similarity of political system, and of late also the increasingly strong dependence of both Armenia and Georgia in the economic sphere. The heightened focus on terrorism and Afghanistan spill-overs into Central Asia was directly inherited from the Yeltsin administration and fuelled by repeated intrusions into Tajikistan and Kyrgyztan of Islamic forces. Nevertheless, 11 September and the allied NATO response reinforced Russia’s attitude to Central Asia in at least two important ways.

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First, what had previously been the ‘internal’ problem of Central Asia had now become part of an ‘international problem’ with new powerful security providers – the United States and China. Russia had run into some serious security competition in a region where it had seen no competition for centuries. This heightened Russia’s interest in the Central Asian sub-complex, which in the long run most likely leaves Russia with the better hand. From the US point of view, its security engagement has basically been tied to the Afghanistan operations, and the United States is not likely to survive even as a limited security provider in Central Asia once the situation in Afghanistan stabilizes. China, on the other hand, is in for a long-term relationship, which Russia does not seem to mind. Indeed, the two seem to be working jointly in creating a less threatening security environment, based on the common interest in securing the area from extremism and separatism. Second, the increasingly economic involvement in the region of the USA and China also brought forward an economic competition which sharpened the Russian tools of operation, particularly evident in the energy sector: there is obviously more to pipelines than economic interest. Russia has used the very fact of foreign debts and the land-locked situation of most of the Central Asian states for both economic and political purposes and used the foreign debts of some Central Asian states and their lack of investment resources skilfully. In a comparison of Putin’s policies in the three regional sub-complexes, it is evident that the European sub-complex is the most important by far. Two of the three countries – Ukraine and Belarus – remain the highest priority in Putin’s foreign policy. All three are ‘strategic partners’ and all three are seen as ‘artificial constructions that would sooner or later merge into a wider political structure’ (Bugajski 2004: 61). The major ‘battlefield’ and treasure is Ukraine. As a bounty, Belarus is already won and Russia needs only to wait for the Belarusian leadership to realize this fact. The Transdniester conflict in Moldova will retain a final say on the uncertain future of Moldova. All three states are strongly dependent on Russia economically, and the extent to which Russia is able to convert that influence also into political currency is most likely the clue to the final result of the contest with the West in this sub-complex. Evidently, should Ukraine ‘be lost’, Russia indeed loses its empire and Putin his dreams of rebuilding Greater Russia. Ukraine is not only the jewel in the crown, but epitomizes the very idea of Greater Russia. The end result of that ‘battle’ will very much depend on the relationship between Russia and the EU in the economic sphere. The whole issue of rebuilding Greater Russia might be just another way of establishing a truly Greater Europe, in which case we are all to be congratulated. The Caucasus sub-complex is also on the game table, and Russia is about to lose Georgia, a hard-won bounty. By and large, Russia has deserved the loss, since it (in 2006) returned to its worst behaviour of the 1990s. The other two Caucasian states are sound in taking note of the fate of Georgia. The only Russian instrument left in Armenia is the total security and economic dependency on Russia, which is a truly difficult instrument to play on. Azerbaijan is in

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a much better position to resist Russian influence, and it also has something to offer Europe. The general and big question mark is the future development in the Caspian Sea region which is at the crossroads of the Greater Asian and Greater Middle East security complexes and is now moving in the direction of the Greater European security complex. The Central Asian sub-complex is different to the other two in terms of Russia’s possibilities. Here, the major Russian contestant is China, which is the emerging power in Central Asia and the state with which Russia has the longest borders (some 4,300 km). Today, Russia is reconstituting itself as the Greater Russia in Central Asia in a replay of the Great Game, where the USA supports Azerbaijan and Georgia and parts of Central Asia and has about as little a chance of success as Britain, because of Russia’s ‘overwhelming geo-political advantage in a contest with the West for strategic influence over the Black Sea, the Caucasus, the Caspian Sea, and interior Central Asian areas’ (Cohen, S.B. 2003: 187). In conclusion, while Russia is losing ground in its European security subcomplex to the Greater European security complex (although with an uncertain end result) and also to some smaller extent in the Caucasus sub-complex, the Central Asian sub-complex will remain firmly in the Russian embrace. Putin’s objectives today are – and here I am supported by Bugajski (2004: 219–220) – to expand Russia’s foreign policy influence, to promote economic monopolization, to consolidate political dependence, and to limit Western enlargement while rebuilding global influence by eliminating US uni-polarity. In the CIS region, Russia is in fact establishing its own version of a ‘Monroe doctrine’, and ‘to establish a tighter federation highly dependent on the Russian centre but without necessarily expanding Russian territory’. Russia is out to establish ‘asymmetric sovereignty’ where CIS countries ‘surrender elements of their independence’ to Russia (Bugajski 2004: 54–55). In this strategy, Putin has been the main architect. Ukraine is still on the game table, while Belarus is already won, and Moldova might very well end up on the fence. The United States, the EU and Europe have little to offer in terms of security to most of the other CIS countries and not so very much more to offer in economic terms. The iron laws of economic dependency have a tendency to have the last word, and this might very well be the tragedy of those triumphant victors of the 1991 and 2004/2005 waves of democratization in the former Soviet space. As previously, there are five alternative logical scenarios for the Russia-led regional security complex today (cf. Roeder 1997: 241–242): a re-unified state (possible but not at all likely), a collective security management (possible but not very likely), a regional concert or balance of power (not likely). These three scenaria rest on the assumption that external powers will not manage to make serious break-ins into the Russia-led security complex. Or, there will be a continued competition with external great powers for many years to come (most likely scenario), which in turn might lead to a Russian ‘victory’ (quite likely), or to a dissolution of the Russia-led regional security complex (the least likely scenario). In my view, Putin has been much more successful than Yeltsin in fulfill-

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ing one and the same basic objective: to keep the Russia-led regional complex out of foreign control. His means have been different, though: while Yeltsin used fairly traditional Russian heavy-handed strategies, Putin has been much more innovative in handling the competition from outside structures and external actors and even adopted EU-like strategies. The most important question with respect to the ‘2008 problem’ (i.e. who and what will follow after Putin) with respect to the rebuilding of Greater Russia is whether Putin’s strategies are successful or not. In other words, what are the ‘objective’ factors that point towards a re-integration of the CIS countries or towards a successful rebuilding of Greater Russia? The clue is, according to Selezneva (2003: 21), the Russian military-industrial complexes that operate in the CIS area, and the close cooperation that follows from that, aided by cultural factors like the common civilization, language, history and traditions. In the end, the question is rather if Russia will indeed continue to aspire for a hegemonic role in its regional security complex, and what means it is prepared to employ to that end.3 The future of Greater Russia is thus still very much an open question, and very much depends on how Russia and her neighbours are being treated by the United States and NATO, by the EU and other European organizations. A renewed competition over the last vestiges and spoils of the demise of the USSR is possible, although not desirable. In addition, we have to realize that ‘what is good for Russia’ is not necessarily good for its neighbours. There is thus good and bad news both for Russia and for her individual neighbours. The good news for Russia is that Russia will most likely remain the major power in the CIS region and the Russia-led regional security complex will resist external penetration. The bad news is that Russia is used to the role and has had problems shouldering the responsibilities that go with it in the past. This is also bad news for Russia’s neighbours. The only good news for them is that they are used to it.

18.3 The politico-military, politico-economic and politico-cultural arenas and the instruments applied – banks or tanks? 18.3.1 The arenas The underlying question in the more traditional politico-military arena is to what extent Putin has used, kept or changed the more traditional Russian heavyhandedness in dealing with neighbours within its immediate reach. One focal point is on Russia’s reluctance to let anyone else into the area of the former USSR, another on the handling of the ‘frozen conflicts’ in the post-Soviet territory. The first is the Great Game, i.e. the struggle with other great powers over the control of the area. In Putin’s reign, this spells the EU, NATO and the United States. The second concerns the involvement of Russian troops in conflicts on foreign territory (Transdniester, Abkhazia, South Ossetia and NagornoKarabakh) and how it is tied to the more general Russian integration goals within the CIS.

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The politico-economic integrative mechanisms include attempts at trade regimes as well as state or privately based economic cooperation, but especially energy and pipeline relations, and debts. The effectiveness in using economic dependency and especially Russia’s energy policies is of obvious interest in an attempt to rebuild Greater Russia. The intellectual foundation of this approach is most likely the experience of the European Union with respect to the spill-over effects of economic integration into other arenas. In any event, economic integration as such is destined to increase Russian influence in the CIS region, and Greater Russia is to be rebuilt with the help of the purse rather than the sword, or with ‘banks rather than tanks’. The politico-cultural instrument has developed differently in the bilateral relationships and does not seem to be part of Putin’s more general strategies. It surfaces mainly with respect to Russian compatriots abroad. Migration issues, language politics and citizenship issues have all to different degrees been part of the bilateral relationships treated in the chapters above, but have been handled differently enough not to suggest a more general Putin strategy in this arena. The exception is the common interest in ‘democratic values’ of late. 18.3.2 Putin’s use of the politico-military arena – security issues in relations with the CIS states – politics of denial Putin has been an ardent ‘securitizer’ of Russian foreign policy, and security issues are implicit in most or all of Russia’s foreign policy goals (Lo 2003a: 14, 16).4 Russia energetically strives for a hegemonic role in its own regional security complex and since Russia’s strategic environment is generally believed to be hostile and threatening, the CIS states are also seen as a buffer against NATO, and maybe also to China (cf. Macfarlane 2003: 128–129). In the politico-military arena, the most general security goal is ‘antiterrorism’ and ‘anti-extremism’, or stability and predictability, and to integrate Russia into the international security system and engage with the industrialized international community (Isakova 2005: 305). Russia never really retreated mentally from the ‘Eurasian geographical space’, and the Russian elites think that Russia’s problems in its immediate neighbourhood are geopolitical and that the losses of the 1990s are not irreparable (Tsygankov 2003: 102). A new orientation became obvious after 11 September, but had been in the coming since 1999 and 2000 with the terrorism activities in Kyrgyztan and Uzbekistan. The terrorism issue was successfully internationalized by Putin who used the window of opportunity brought about by 11 September. These changes in Russian foreign policy were most evident in Central Asia, but were later accompanied by new policies also in Georgia (Jonson 2004: 171–172; Nygren 2005a). With respect to the multilateral organizational attempts at recreating Greater Russia, the integration efforts within the CIS have rendered few positive results. Integration efforts in the politico-military arena have been heavily influenced by security aspects after 11 September which has helped to re-invigorate the

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Collective Security Treaty Organization, especially in Central Asia. Although there is no reason to believe that the CSTO might eventually develop into a defence alliance, it has de facto become a defence organization aimed at countering low-level armed conflicts, insurrections, terrorism and to some degree also aimed at crime prevention. The Central Asian states have been more than willing to gather round Russia in this anti-terrorism struggle, while the Caucasus states have been much more hesitant to rely on Russia (Azerbaijan) and partly relied on other structures to find security against Russia (Georgia), or partly stayed out of the anti-terrorism struggle and remained traditionally defence oriented (Armenia). The three European countries have also been concerned primarily with traditional state-to-state security problems, and two of them – Ukraine and Moldova – have sought shelter in other European structures. The third – Belarus – has a similar situation to Armenia, but here the perceived enemy is rather a copy of the Cold War threat – NATO. While the CIS and the CST/CSTO have regarded the Caucasus and Central Asia as the main stages for terrorism, in the latter region there is also another alternative organization dealing with ‘anti-terrorism’ – the Shanghai Cooperation Organization – which received a virtual boom from the post-11 September mood and the international ‘war against terror’. Of late, the SCO has also aired alternative goals (countering the United States’ in Central Asia), but with limited Russian enthusiasm. Obviously, the CSTO and the SCO have some overlapping objectives and instruments. Both have anti-terrorism centres as well as rapid-reaction forces, and both have regular military exercises aimed at foreign terrorist intrusions. The focus of the CSTO and the SCO is clearly on Central Asia rather than the Caucasus and Europe. Security in the Caucasus and in the European subcomplexes is basically of a traditional state-to-state nature and therefore handled within the common CIS framework for defence and border cooperation. But it is also here we find the two most reluctant CIS states, Georgia and Ukraine, and occasionally accompanied by Azerbaijan. Below, I look into some of the bilateral security issues that are not directly related to the contest with ‘external’ powers or to the institutionalized frameworks of the CSTO or SCO. These security issues are both of a positive and negative nature, and I start with relationships where the former dominates. Russia’s positive bilateral security relationships have been fairly stable in Putin’s reign, and they include first of all relations with Belarus, Armenia, Tajikistan, Kazakhstan and Kyrgyztan. The negative security relationships are all inherited from the Yeltsin era and include first of all relations with Ukraine, Moldova and Georgia, and the basic reasons for the conflicts remain. Security relations with Azerbaijan and Uzbekistan have changed since the Yeltsin era and also over the Putin years, while security relations with Turkmenistan are tied solely to the Caspian Sea problematique. Defence cooperation with Belarus has been successful, firmly based on mutual interests in guarding the western borders which became a border to

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NATO when the Baltic states and Poland joined in 2004. Defence cooperation concerns first of all a common air defence system (including production facilities) but also the joint use of military facilities in Belarus. A long-range radar station (Volga) was inaugurated in late 2003. While the joint air defence was delayed in 2004 and 2005, in 2006 the joint communication and control system was set up and the first deliveries of surface-to-air missiles took place. By late 2006, there were four S-300 missile defence units in Belarus under joint command, and a joint regional group of military forces was set up. Military exercises take place on a regular basis since the mid-1990s, the most wellknown of late clearly indicated that the traditional NATO military threat is still very much alive. Security relations with Armenia have been directly tied to the dangerous defence position of the country, between Azerbaijan and Turkey. Although Armenia is by far the strongest military power of the three Caucasian states, since the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict began Russia has guaranteed the security of Armenia. Russia also guards Armenia’s southern borders to Iran and Turkey. From 2001, there are also joint air patrols and a Russian air defence regiment is stationed in Armenia. The Russian military bases set up since 1996 (the latest in 2003) have been complemented by Russian weapon procurement to the Armenian army. Joint military exercises have taken place on an annual basis. In Central Asia, the Caspian Sea itself has been subjected to a naval build-up in Putin’s reign, motivated by the ‘terrorist threat’ but evidently also with strong geo-political overtones (witnessed by the joint naval exercises). Azerbaijan, Turkmenistan and Iran also have small naval forces, and of late also Kazakhstan has begun a naval build-up. Russia has of late been eager to develop a joint Rapid Reaction Force modelled after the Black Sea equivalent, and the first ever multi-national military exercise took place in 2005. Since the break-up of the USSR, the Russia–Kazakh security relationship has been very close and Russia has kept many military installations in Kazakhstan. Military and defence cooperation has been a common feature and Russia has supplied modern military equipment. Furthermore, military-technical cooperation has developed from the many defence production facilities remaining in Kazakhstan after 1991. From 2003, agreements to set up joint troops and a joint air defence, air force and naval system have been signed. The build-up of the Kazakh naval force since then has caused some irritation in Russia, though, since Kazakhstan looked elsewhere for naval procurements. Russian security relations with Kyrgyztan are based on the dependency of the latter for protection against terrorist incursions after the Russian withdrawal of border guards in 1999. Such incursions have been frequent since the late 1990s and emanated from Afghanistan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. Russia had kept some military installations in Kyrgyztan and provided it with military equipment. From 2003, a major defence issue developed with respect to the Kant airfield, in legal terms a CSTO operation but in practice a Russian airbase in Kyrgyztan. The airbase has been reinforced over the years and remains a major Russian installation in Central Asia.

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Security relations with Tajikistan are in more than one sense tied to those with Kyrgyztan. After the civil war and throughout most of the 1990s, some 25,000 Russian border troops stayed on. Tajikistan has on several occasions been invaded by Taliban warriors from Afghanistan en route to Kyrgyztan and Uzbekistan, and Russia has had to intervene to avoid clashes between Central Asian national forces. Tajikistan has been heavily dependent on Russian assistance of peacekeeping forces and border troops, especially since Tajikistan lacks armed forces of its own. In 2004, the Russian army division stationed in Tajikistan was turned into a regular army military base. Military exercises with an anti-terrorist twist have been a common feature since 11 September. The Russian border troops stationed in the south along the Afghan border have been withdrawn and exchanged for Tajik troops since 2004. Some security relationships have undergone changes under Putin. One is Russia’s relations with Azerbaijan, which for the entire length of the 1990s was directly coloured by Russia’s support of Armenia in the Nagorno-Karabakh war. Strange as it may seem, with the second Chechnya war, Azerbaijan took Putin’s side and (as opposed to Georgia) took some measures to help Russia. After 11 September, the security relationship developed further, and in 2002 a long-term agreement was signed which gave Russia the right to lease a most important strategic radar station in the Caucasus. Several other military cooperation and military-technological agreements followed, and by 2006 Azeri ties with NATO had cooled considerably. Security relations with Uzbekistan have also changed in the Putin period. Relations were problematic ever since Uzbekistan in the mid-1990s contested Russian hegemony in Central Asia. By the late 1990s, however, frequent terrorist incursions from Afghanistan, via Tajikistan and Kyrgyztan, caused problems not only with the terrorists but also with Uzbekistan’s closest neighbours. Russia intervened and anti-terrorism cooperation slowly developed. The Uzbek decision after 11 September to let airfields to the United States was, however, seen as proof of Uzbekistan’s anti-Russian stance, despite assurances to the opposite. By 2003, however, Uzbekistan began to reorient itself towards Russia and slowly shifted its institutional homestead from GUUAM to CSTO. A treaty on strategic relationship was signed, and joint anti-terrorism exercises took place in 2005. After the Andijon events in summer 2005, Uzbekistan took the final steps of strategic re-orientation, and Russian–Uzbek security relations have since taken a full turn for the better, leaving GUUAM and rejoining CSTO. Of the three bilateral security relationships that have remained more or less negative in the CIS region, two are directly tied to the secessionist conflicts in Moldova and Georgia, and will be dealt with shortly. A few notes should be made on the bilateral relationship with Ukraine, although the major security issue is tied to Ukraine’s NATO aspirations. Georgia also has had other security problems than those related to Abkhazia and South Ossetia, and both are worth some attention.

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After 1991, Ukraine decided to develop its own armed forces and soon expressed its intention to join NATO. In Yeltsin’s years, the remnants of the USSR in the form of nuclear warheads and the naval base in Crimea were the major security issues. Later, when these issues had been solved, there was in the early Putin period a boom in arms production cooperation, and some security-related agreements with respect to the Black Sea were also signed. The sensitivity of security issues became evident in the Tuzla incident in fall 2003 over a seemingly uninteresting border issue saved by the good personal relationship of Kuchma and Putin. By the time Kuchma was to leave the Ukrainian scene, he was re-orienting Ukraine towards Russia. With the new Westernoriented Ukrainian leadership, the animosity of the two has resurfaced and Ukraine is drifting towards NATO again. Apart from the secessionist problems which have indeed dominated Georgia’s relations with Russia since 1991, there have been a few other issues as well in the Putin period. One has had to do with the Chechnya war and the Chechen warriors who hide out on de jure Georgian territory. From Russia’s point of view, the real problem was not only that Georgia has been unable to control its side of the border, but that Russia was not allowed to chase down Chechen warriors on Georgian territory. Unrecognized air intrusions took place, probably inspired by the 11 September mood. By fall 2002, the situation was very tense and war preparations were being made. After some US assistance, the situation cooled down, and with the new Georgian leadership from 2004, this problem has taken a back seat. Russian threats of pre-emptive strikes have remained on the agenda though. The other poisonous Russia–Georgian security issue has been that of the Russian military bases left in Georgia since 1991. The four bases, although not necessarily logically linked to the secessionist problems in Georgia, have been used as a bargaining chip by Putin. Despite promises in 1999 to withdraw the bases, Putin changed his mind and the withdrawal process was dragged out. Only in 2005 did Putin decide to take a step back on the issue and promised to withdraw also the remaining two bases by the end of 2006. One of the major traits in Russian foreign policy has been its treatment of the so-called ‘frozen conflicts’ in South Ossetia, Abkhazia and in Transdniester and the inter-state conflict in Nagorno-Karabakh.5 While the four territorially based conflicts look much the same from the perspective of separatism and secessionism, of social problems and organized crime, there are also differences worth noting. Take, for example, the prospects of the four de facto states to develop into de jure states, and it is obvious that while Nagorno-Karabakh and Abkhazia have a potential, South Ossetia and Transdniester have not (Lynch 2004). There is a slight possibility that the two states involved in the NagornoKarabakh conflict might be forced to accept some sort of agreement from the outside, e.g. enforced by the EU and/or NATO/USA. Such an agreement would have to wait an immediate post-election situation in either or both of the two

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countries involved since any candidate opting for less than an ‘all and everything’ solution will sign a political death sentence. Furthermore, any solution is likely to involve a time dimension – the Nagorno-Karabakh enclave would ‘belong’ to neither or both for some time, and most definitely controlled by an international peace force. In any event, Russia has really nothing to gain from an unresolved conflict, rather the opposite: Russia needs both Armenia and Azerbaijan within its orbit of influence, and a continuous state of ‘almost war’ between the two states would ruin that possibility. Abkhazia’s political and ethnic identity is strong and is separated from that of Georgia, and at the same time sufficiently independent of Russian decisions to stand a chance of survival on its own. It is extremely difficult to see how a reintegration with Georgia would come about: either the Georgian refugees that left Abkhazia will return, in which case they will be the largest ethnic population in Abkhazia, or Abkhazia will join a federation structure that would render it close to zero powers. To agree to either would be to contradict Lynch’s argument about the special features of de facto states: these are driven by other forces and factors than those of de jure states (Lynch 2004). South Ossetia, on the other hand, is not only small in population and size but is almost nothing but a bandit formation surviving on contraband. Here, the likelihood of full independence is dim indeed. While the more or less likely integration into Georgia probably would have to be enforced, the likelihood of integration with North Ossetia (in Russia) is more difficult to see because of the fairly large portion of Georgians in the secessionist enclave. There is no future for South Ossetian independence; Georgian federalization attempts are therefore more likely to succeed here, although not in the near future. In the case of Transdniester, finally, the situation is altogether different. First of all, there are three ethnic groups about equally strong – Russians, Ukrainians and Moldovans. Second, although there are indeed some prospects for an economic future despite its abundant organized crime, Transdniester is not likely to survive economically without direct support from Russia. Furthermore, Putin (or his successor) is not likely to respond positively to a break-up of today’s Moldova, and Russia does not want another exclave to handle (apart from Kaliningrad). Therefore, in the end, some model of federalization with Moldova is the most likely outcome. But Russia will not make haste in finding such a solution. With respect to the three ‘frozen conflicts’, Russia’s policies thus seem to be contrary to its policies in other countries.6 Part of the reason, and part of the problem of the ‘frozen conflicts’ are the CIS (or in effect Russian) peacekeepers themselves as legitimizers of Russian military presence, which have ‘retained a strong neo-imperial flavour’ (Sakwa 2002: 389). Despite Putin’s assertions that Russia has no territorial ambitions (‘Russia has never raised the question of attachment of territories outside its boundaries’, RFE/RL Newsline 5 June 2006) in the worst of scenarios for the future, Russia may indeed have ‘more ambitious long-term objectives in attaching portions of neighbouring territories to a “Greater Russia” . . . within an expanding Russian Federation’ (Bugajski 2004: 60).

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18.3.3 Putin’s use of the politico-economic arena – the ‘economization’ of relations with the CIS states – politics of control In the politico-economic arena, the ‘economic prosperity’ of Russia is the ultimate goal, both domestically (where the strengthening of the state and its economic potential is Putin’s major objective). This foreign policy goal is a very general one that includes all of Russia’s foreign policy relations (and not only the CIS countries) – at least judging by a Russian Security Council document from May 2002: ‘Russia has to avoid being cornered by ideological notions of division between friends and foes. Economic benefits for Russia should become the main factor and criteria for its foreign policy orientations’ (quoted in Isakova 2005: 28).7 By 2002 and 2003, the strategies behind the general economic goal emerged, and one might refer to this ‘economization’ as ‘Putinism’, or the ‘highest stage of Russian capitalism’. The major goal is to achieve economic prosperity and to regain actual political and economic control of much of the former Soviet space. Evidently, this is a very different strategy in comparison to the first Russian imperialization strategy, or for that matter, different from how the Soviet Union was kept together. The pressure for economic integration has rather been felt from within the states than from the multilateral economic organizations and institutions as such. The CIS as an organization has been riding on a wave of perceived necessary economic integration all through its history, but at the same time such integration objectives have usually been ground down upon entering the agenda of domestic economic elites, or come up against heavy popular resistance in the process of creating national identities. Despite this, many of the CIS states individually have had difficulties in resisting a re-integration into Greater Russia because of a debt trap. The most far-reaching integration vehicle to date – the SES – has encountered basically the same fate as the CIS as a whole, i.e. it has started as an agreement on general principles which has then been followed by negotiations on details which have failed and stalled the process. The SES was (until 2005) an endeavour by a few of Russia’s closest and most willing allies to create a common economic space, but the Ukrainian re-orientation after the ‘orange revolution’ towards the EU does not bode well for the future of the SES either. A crippled SES might very well move Belarus to the forefront in Russian foreign economic relations and give a boost to other structures. The EEC as a follow-up to the CIS customs union has also been revived under Putin and an actual customs union might eventually develop into a common economic space. The joint entry into the WTO became the major glue of the organization. Present-day EEC might very well be the end result of some 15 years of Russian attempts to re-integrate economically the former Soviet space in a multilateral design. The centrifugal forces are too many. The most obvious and down-to-earth economic instrument in Putin’s hand with most of the CIS states is related to energy production and energy transit routes,

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hydrocarbon and electricity. Here, Russia is both a provider of energy, an importer and a manager of transits of energy, its own and others.8 Russia today has a vital interest in gaining control over the energy resources of other CIS countries (Bugajski 2004: 59). To sell energy and transit services to those better off is, of course, easier than to sell to the not-so-well-to-do countries. With the latter, the accumulated debts from the 1990s have been a particular problem, and Russian strategies to deal with it have developed in the Putin period – the assetfor-debts strategy aims in the end to increase dependency (on Russia) rather than decrease it. Big business is Putin’s obvious instrument in this endeavour. The pricing of oil and gas deliveries played out the most dramatic in the two countries that controlled the Russian transit routes to Europe – Ukraine and Belarus. The games played out differently in the two countries, and there are several interesting aspects to be noted, since the games involved as much sticks as they did carrots, and since the end games have not been played out yet. Below, Russian transit dependency is treated first, in another section further down, that of others on Russia. In between, the pricing issue is treated for those countries where transit issues have not been at the core of the relationship. Very early on, in his very first year in the Kremlin, Putin did seem intent on eliminating some of the long-standing obstacles to a more direct use of economic means of foreign policy. His attempt to lift Ukraine to the top of the Russian CIS agenda was evident in his attitude to solve the Ukrainian energy debt issue which had poisoned the relationship all through the 1990s. In effect, the general problem was not the debt issue as such, but of finding a way to create a safe and stable long-term energy and general economic relationship with Ukraine. The energy relationship included an issue much more important to Russia – that of energy exports to Europe and the revenues generated from that – and the most important transit routes across Ukraine (or Belarus). Russia had threatened to build new alternative pipelines that would by-pass Ukraine. This effort to boost energy transit issues was evidenced also in the appointment and later activities of the new Russian Ambassador to Ukraine, Viktor Chernomyrdin, who not only was the highest possible ranking Russian in Ukraine as the former Premier for many years, he was also intimately tied to the energy policies of Russia, especially in the gas sector. In general, the first years of the new strategy paid off quite well, and not only in the energy sector: Russian capital was invested in industries primarily using Russian raw material, and in taking over production facilities in Ukraine. A possible breakthrough on the transit issue came in summer 2002 with the creation of a joint Russian–Ukrainian–German gas transport consortium to run the existing pipelines through Ukraine to Western Europe. The project soon ran into problems with connecting pipelines as well as the general political developments. In summer 2003, another pipeline issue surfaced, the oil pipeline that was planned to connect Odessa on the Black Sea with the larger oil pipeline to Europe, but did not attract any oil from the Caspian basin. The oil and gas transit issues with Ukraine were in no small part due to the improved political relationship between Putin and Kuchma. The new

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government in Ukraine after the ‘orange revolution’ was bound to change the political climate. From summer 2005, discussions on real market prices for gas to Ukraine developed into an actual ‘gas war’ in Ukraine in winter 2005. While Russia asked for a tripling of the gas price, Ukraine threatened to steal gas en route to Europe. Russia wanted also to settle the price of gas transit for Europe, which made the connection between Ukrainian gas dependency and Russian transit dependency all the more obvious. Negotiations saw no solution to the basic problem of market pricing when the winter cold advanced. In the first weeks of 2006, the situation developed in a dangerous direction of threats and actual cut-offs in gas deliveries. The Ukrainian government encountered heavy domestic criticism for its final subjugation to the new price policy and had to resign. By the end of 2006, the gas pricing issue seems solved, and Ukraine may lose part of its ‘transit weapon’ with the proposed new Baltic Sea underwater pipeline to Germany. Even the seemingly closest politico-military ally to Russia in the 1990s, Belarus is totally dependent on Russia for its energy. The Belarus transit network is less important to Russia than the Ukrainian one with respect to export to Europe. Kaliningrad, on the other hand, is in direct need of transit through Belarus. By the time Putin entered the scene, this had become all the more evident with the swiftly rising prices for oil and gas on the world market. To continue heavily subsidized energy exports even to friends was an irritant to the economic-minded young president. In Belarus, Russia has been trying to take control of the transit pipelines at least since 2002 but met with heavy resistance from Lukashenka, who tied the price of gas to the price of transit of gas. After Russian demands for higher prices in winter 2002, Belarus backed off an unofficial agreement to let Russia buy more stakes in the Belarus gas pipeline company that ran the transit. This was to become a standard procedure in the winters to come due to the fact that delivery volumes were agreed upon in advance, while price negotiations stalled. In fall 2003, Gazprom warned that it would not continue to sell cheap gas to Belarus, and it was evident that the pricing was connected to the issue of Belarus’ refusal to sell control of its gas pipelines to Gazprom. Summits in fall 2003 seemed to solve the issue principally with the creation of a joint pipeline company and a smaller share in the existing transit company in exchange for cheaper gas for yet another winter. When negotiations on the creation of the joint company stalled, Gazprom simply shut off the gas flow, and a ‘gas war’ was fought over prices and deliveries in the first months of 2004. While Russia shut off gas to Belarus, Belarus shut off another gas pipeline to Kaliningrad, and the message was clear in both cases – pay or freeze. The next winter, 2004, there was no repeat war since Lukashenka had learned the lesson and accepted the higher prices, although still far from reaching world market levels. In fall 2005, when Gazprom announced that it would also charge world market prices for its gas for CIS countries, Belarus was exempted after several high-level negotiations. The price remained on the 2005 level also in 2006, but was possibly to be raised significantly in 2007 unless a deal was reached on the

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Belarusian gas pipeline company. It is evident that the exemption of Belarus in 2006 from the general raise in Russian export gas prices had both economic and political motives and that the threat of a four-times increase in gas prices for 2007 finally made Belarus give in to the long-time Russian demands to control the gas pipeline system in Belarus in the last dramatic hours of 2006. The poorest recipients of Russian energy exports, and by implication also the most sensitive to the Russian use of the energy instrument, include friends as well as foes. But these poor recipients also constitute problems for Russia because of their inability to pay energy debts or to pay current and future deliveries. To Russia, these countries constituted, on the one hand, easy prey but, on the other, they also brought with them real costs in the form of export subsidies and insecure investments. Moldova is one of the very poor recipients of Russian energy. Putin set out immediately to remedy the situation and the coming to power of a new Moldovan leader in 2001 for some time put the Moldovan westward orientation on hold. Energy delivery problems had occurred every winter in the early Putin years because of Moldovan failure to pay its debts for earlier deliveries. A longterm debt-restructuring agreement was believed to solve the problem, and Russia received some energy-related assets in return. The situation was complicated also by the fact that much of the debt was owed by the Transdniester secessionist government not under control of the Moldovan government. In 2005, when Russia threatened to introduce the international market price level, Moldova was the first to suffer, and in the end Moldova gave in on higher 2006 prices after Gazprom had shut off the deliveries for some time. In contrast to Ukraine and Belarus, Moldova had little to offer in return and attempts of transit threats were ineffective. Armenia has for long been in direct need of economic assistance for its very survival. While hydropowered electricity has offered some self-reliance, nuclear energy supplies ceased after the demise of the USSR, as did oil and gas supplies from Azerbaijan as a result of the Nagorno-Karabakh war. Armenia was struck by the pricing issue despite the fact that it was a close ally of Russia. In 2004, Armenia succeeded in getting an agreement with Iran for the construction of a gas pipeline, but apart from that Armenia is still dependent on Russian gas via Georgia. With the advent of the new gas prices in fall 2005, Armenia had to pay the same price as Georgia but a lesser price than Moldova and Ukraine. As the most serious victim of Russian political and economic abuse in the 1990s, Georgia was also heavily indebted to Russia for past energy deliveries. From the late 1990s, Georgia has been trying to divert its energy import dependency over to Azerbaijan, and since the two countries had a common interest in cooperation – Azerbaijan in finding an alternative outlet of oil resources via Georgia to Turkey (since Iran and Armenia were out of the question), and Georgia in finding an alternative energy supplier – the only thing needed was a financial boost. This was provided by the USA in the early Putin period; the interest of the world market in Caspian hydrocarbon resources avoiding Russian

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transit routes also helped. It looks like Russia is losing one of its major foreign policy instruments in dealing with Georgia, that of energy dependency. Gas pricing in Georgia has also been strongly linked to the issue of letting go of the control of energy production and energy networks. When Georgian resistance was at its height in the latter part of 2005, Russia proposed doubling the gas price to Georgia (and to Armenia, which was connected to the same pipeline). Georgian reactions were negative, of course, and the transit fees of gas to Armenia were also raised to indicate that Georgia indeed had learnt half the lesson from Ukraine and Belarus. Tajikistan and Kyrgyztan are two other poor recipients of Russian energy, both of which are heavily indebted to Russia and with few means to pay for them. Debts had accumulated in the 1990s and prospects for repaying them were scant. The few energy resources they had were either undeveloped or lying idle, and the more fortunate neighbours, especially Uzbekistan, were rather trying to compete with Russia over influence in Central Asia than helping its closest neighbours. The energy instrument has also been used as a means of state policy in those relationships where debts had not accumulated and where energy dependency did not exist. To these countries, the problem was rather one of transit of their own energy resources. Geography had given them a bad hand, Azerbaijan in the Caucasus, and Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan in Central Asia. Russia has used the ‘transit weapon’ in much the same way as Ukraine, Belarus and Moldova have used it against Russia. Azerbaijan was immediately approached by Putin in 2000 because of the economic benefits to be reaped from cooperation in the oil and gas sectors. Azerbaijan is a key player in the Caspian Sea area, especially in developing the Caspian Sea resources and transit from the region to the world markets. Partly because of its attempts to avoid Russian territory, Azerbaijan was seen also as a competitor to Russia. The change was rather in the strategy, from one of opposing Azeri attempts at independent routing of oil and gas, to one of co-optation and cooperation and mutuality of interests. The basic issue here has been whether or not Russia is able to attract more transit volumes from Azerbaijan (to the Russian Black Sea export ports) since the pipelines under construction aim precisely to avoid dependence on Russian transit. Kazakhstan is the major Central Asian exporter of oil and gas, and to secure alternative or supplementary outlets for its increasing exports it has attempted to link up with Azeri pipelines. At the same time, gas exploration and extraction has been too big a potato to chew for Kazakhstan, and Gazprom got involved early on. One problem has been to increase export volumes, at the same time as Russia did the same within the existing pipeline networks. For this reason, too, Kazakhstan has been eager to find supplementary transit routes. A long-term agreement on oil export transits via Russia was agreed upon in 2002, and oil extraction has benefited from Russian know-how, as has the exploration of the Caspian Sea fields. By 2005, the two states signed a 50-year agreement on developing some new Caspian Sea fields.

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There have also been some cooperation efforts with Uzbekistan, and in 2002 agreements were reached on oil and gas extraction cooperation. In 2003, a gas transit agreement was signed with Gazprom to avoid Turkmenistan, which had been the major problem in Uzbekistan’s attempts to find alternative outlets. In 2004, a 35-year agreement to share gas field exploration and development was reached. The more Uzbekistan drifted towards the Russian cage in Putin’s second term, the more agreements in the energy field were agreed upon. Russia’s energy relations with Turkmenistan have also been one of transit dependency: Turkmenistan needs Russian pipelines to reach the world markets. But in contrast to Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan has some alternative routes which it has tried to develop. For Turkmenistan, the problem of transit via Russia has basically been one of pricing. In 2003, Putin signed a 25-year agreement on gas transits of Turkmen gas via Russian pipelines, and in 2004 and 2005, when Turkmenistan wanted higher prices for the gas exports to Russia, Russia was to taste the same medicine as Russia offered others: cuts in supply. In conclusion, the Caspian Sea and Central Asia gas and oil transit routes are important for Russia as well as for the other actors in the region. Both the BTE gas pipeline and the parallel BTC oil pipeline from Baku to Turkey via Georgia have been built in order to diminish the transit dependency of the Caspian Sea exporters on Russia. While these pipelines cause but marginal economic losses to Russia, they do neutralize Russia’s ‘transit weapon’ to some extent. The other major strategy to create energy-related dependencies, particularly in the not so well-to-do countries of the CIS, is the asset-for-debt policy. This policy appeared in 2000, but it was only in 2002 that the general Russian strategy on the matter saw the light, that Russia was to claim its debts in the form of assets which in turn would perpetuate old and create new dependencies. The general strategy focused wherever possible on energy-related structures. This strategy had been tried in Kyrgyztan from 2000 and in Moldova even before 2000, but was played out in full in Kyrgyztan, Tajikistan, Armenia and Georgia from 2002 and 2003. A short résumé reveals the strategy. In 2002, Moldova had to sell more shares in gas delivery companies and in electricity-generating power stations in exchange for Russian (cheap) electricity. In 2003, the accumulated Moldovan gas debt to Russia was in part paid in an asset-for-debt deal that included Moldovan energy distributors, and in 2005, gas debt payments caused a domestic row in Moldova when Russia took over shares in a joint gas company in Transdniester. Future prices for gas have been contingent on Gazprom’s ability to purchase control of the gas pipeline network. In late 2006, a five-year agreement of subsequent price rises up to world market level in 2011 was signed. The most evident victim of the Russian asset-for-debt strategy in the Caucasus is Armenia, Russia’s closest ally in the region. Already in 2001 and 2002, there were serious discussions of selling Armenian assets to pay for the Armenian energy debt to Russia, including some electricity-generating plants, and in

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late 2002 the official asset-for-debt agreement was signed at the highest level. In 2003, Armenian nuclear and hydro-energy development that had been stalled for a decade was re-initiated when the Russian electricity giant UES took over the control of a nuclear plant and several hydropower plants. By 2004, the UES controlled some 80 per cent of the energy produced in Armenia and in 2005 serious domestic opposition to further sell-outs of Armenian energy-related assets developed. In 2006, the UES bought the rest and today controls 100 per cent of Armenian electricity production and distribution. Georgia has fared no better. In 2003, Gazprom tried to take control of the only gas pipeline running from Russia to Georgia in return for guaranteed supply and distribution of gas in a 25-year agreement. The attempt should be seen in the context of the new Azeri BTE gas pipeline soon to become operational. The take-over attempt was heavily resisted in Georgia and there was no ratification of the deal. Also in 2003, the Russian UES made its investment entrance into Georgia, with the same purpose: to acquire a dominating share of the Georgian electricity production and distribution system. After the ‘rose revolution’, Gazprom continued its investments offensive on the Georgian energy market, and in 2005 it managed finally to buy the one gas pipeline in Georgia while the UES bought yet another power station. Other significant Russian investments, including those in the main Georgian bank, contributed to a feeling among Georgians of actually being bought by Russia. In Kyrgyztan, the assets-for-debts strategy appeared in 2000, but more clearly in 2001 and 2002, when Kyrgyztan suggested that its accumulated debts to Russia for energy deliveries should be paid with Kyrgyz industrial assets. Russia took over several assets, including hydropower energy stations to produce electricity for the Russian market. In 2003, Gazprom made its entrance in exploring Kyrgyz oil and gas deposits and also to substitute the gas supplies that Uzbekistan for political reasons failed to provide. The UES was also active, and in 2004 it was agreed that the UES should re-initiate previous attempts to finalize the construction of two large hydropower stations in Kyrgyztan in partial payment of some of the Kyrgyz energy debts. The final goal was to take control of the energy production in Kyrgyztan. With respect to assets-for-debts, the situation for Tajikistan was different from that of Kyrgyztan. The large Tajik gas reserves (which Tajikistan has been unable to develop on its own) constituted the irresistible honey that in 2003 enticed Gazprom to strike a 25-year deal on the exploration and development of Tajik gas resources. In the same year, the UES was invited to develop Tajikistan’s hydropower resources for future export to Russia, and the UES did not hide the fact that it was acting on Kremlin orders. Investments were enormously large and the deal included writing off some of Tajikistan’s debts to Russia. Iran was another major investor in the project. In conclusion, Gazprom and the UES have been expanding their holdings in the most vulnerable CIS states with the help of the assets-for-debts policy. There is no real reason to believe that this combined offensive of Gazprom and the UES

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was coincidental, or indeed that the strategy was not part of a centralized and coordinated effort designed to establish control of the energy resources and its distribution networks on CIS territory. Quite the contrary, when it was announced (in December 2005) that Gazprom would raise prices to Ukraine, Moldova, Azerbaijan, Armenia and Georgia, it was seen as a general price hike not directed at anyone in particular. Putin himself noted that the price of gas was dictated by economic considerations only (RFE/RL Newsline 19 December 2005). The selection of countries rather confirms this. But there were exceptions as well, once the actual price levels were announced. In July 2006, the Gazprom Head Miller announced that it would treat Europe and CIS alike (RFE/RL Newsline 3 July 2006), and Russia later claimed all relations with CIS were to be built on ‘a sound economic reason’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 September 2006). Apart from using the energy dependence of some CIS countries, Russia has also had a much more active (and cooperative) energy, oil and gas policy since 2003, evident from the many long-term agreements on exploration and exploitation and on the transit of exports from Central Asia. Russia has also become much more confident in using its energy corporations to achieve geo-economic objectives. For this reason alone, traditional ‘power talk’ based on political and military might has become less necessary (even if occasional retreats to old Russian habits are obvious, e.g. in policies towards Georgia in summer 2006). The fact is that in many cases convincing with the ‘purse’ in hand seems to be much more effective than with the gun (Nygren 2007a). This ‘energy imperialism’ of increasing prices unless concessions are made has become a dominant feature by the end of Putin’s reign (Yasmann 2006a). However successful at the time, it should be remembered that interdependency itself created from economic integration may indeed limit Russia’s policy options under certain circumstances (Isakova 2005: 277). The price that Russia has had to pay so far in terms of diminished confidence on the part of the other CIS states is difficult to estimate, but it is evident that many of them are going to fairly great lengths to avoid the energy dependency trap. 18.3.4 Putin’s use of the politico-cultural arena – the ‘culturalization’ of relations with the CIS states – politics of affinity The status of the politico-cultural arena is much lower than that of the other two arenas and has not been as evident in Putin’s foreign policy towards the CIS countries as the other two arenas. This is partly an effect of the difficulty of identifying the arena itself, which is fairly broad in content and includes more general phenomena (such as ‘common Soviet culture and history’ which indeed figure from time to time in Russian foreign policy). The political issues in this arena have not been dominant, but in the relationships where they have been politicized, they basically boil down to one of three issues: the situation of the Russian citizens in the CIS countries (with ‘friendly’ countries like Kazakhstan and Kyrgyztan or with ‘hostile’ countries like Georgia and Moldova), or to language and citizen issues (Turkmenistan), or to migration issues (Tajikistan and

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Kyrgyztan). The one issue that seems to have acquired special ‘cultural’ status is the contest over ‘election norms’ with the West after the ‘orange revolution’. The politico-cultural arena is evident, however, in the general protection of ethnic Russians or Russian citizens in other CIS countries when language or citizenship or migration issues are addressed. As Putin put it in 2002: Russia has ‘special interests’ in the CIS area as far as national security is concerned, based on the fact that ‘there are over 20 million of our compatriots living in the CIS countries, and Russia cannot and will not abandon its responsibility for the way they live, and how their rights are observed’ (RFE/RL Newsline 3 June 2002). To begin with language issues, not much has changed since Yeltsin’s days (see Bugajski 2004: 57). In Belarus and Ukraine, the language issue has only occasionally been employed by Putin. In relations with Belarus, common history and ‘relatedness’ referred to more than the preservation of the Russian language. In the case of Ukraine and Crimea, the status of the Russian language has popped up every now and then, as in the Caucasus and Central Asia, where they have been prominent only in a few cases. In Armenia and Azerbaijan, the politico-cultural arena in general has rarely been used by Russia. In some of the Central Asian states, language issues have developed as a result of the identityshaping efforts of the political regimes of the Central Asian countries. While in relations with Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan the language issue was more or less solved in the 1990s, it was not the case in Kyrgyztan and Turkmenistan. But also here, the language issue never dominated and was rather used to defend Russian compatriots against too discriminate nation-building measures. In Kyrgyztan, the status of the Russian language has been directly tied to the issue of dual citizenship of the Russians remaining in the country to stem the brain-drain after a rather significant exodus. In Turkmenistan, when the possibility to hold dual citizenship was revoked, the citizenship issue became serious for some time and even turned domestic Russian opposition against Putin. In Moldova and Georgia, the language issue has been directly tied to the citizenship issue in the ‘frozen conflicts’, but even so, the politico-cultural arena has not been as dominant as the other two arenas. Furthermore, it is rather Moldova and Georgia that have used the arena with respect to the secessionist regions and the citizenship issue and not Russia. Language politics figured prominently on the Moldovan political scene before spring 2001, but the new Moldovan president tried to give the Russian language official status against strong nationalist resistance. He failed, as he did with the attempt to make Russian the second official language in Moldova, and the attempt to make Russian a compulsory school subject. The language issue was used as a weapon by the Transdniester authorities, however, when they closed down Moldovanspeaking schools in the secessionist region. This was not part of a Russian policy, though, but when the school conflict was countered by Moldovan economic measures, Russia got involved. In Georgia’s two frozen conflicts, citizenship rather than language has been an important Russian instrument since an absolute majority of the populations of both Abkhazia and South Ossetia carry

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Russian passports. The citizenship issue strengthens Russia’s involvement in the two secessionist regions, and the often repeated Russian promise to defend Russian citizens abroad acquires a threatening meaning. Labour migration issues have been of a conflicting nature for some Central Asian countries. For years, the Russian treatment of Tajik and Kyrgyz illegal migrant workers has been protested. New Russian policies still remain an infectious part of Russia–Central Asian relations, and the fact that traditionally Russia-bound Georgians were added to the group of illegal migrants in 2006 did not help solve the issue for the other CIS states. New immigration laws have been adopted recently in Russia, and Putin has concluded that Russia needs to regulate the flow of migrants (RFE/RL Newsline 6 October 2006). The other basic issue in the politico-cultural arena concerns elections and human rights norms and values. Beginning with the ‘orange revolution’ in Ukraine, and all through parliamentary and presidential elections in the CIS countries since then, the issue of ‘electoral democracy’ has become a prominent feature in Russia’s relations with the West, but also, in effect, in Russia’s relations with individual CIS countries, since the notion of ‘sovereign democracy’ – a particular form of Eurasian democracy – was used as a platform for Eurasian unity. Here, the official Russian position has been that the West (the EU, the OSCE, the Council of Europe and the United States and NATO) was responsible for the increased tension in several CIS countries.9 Georgia is a special case; the Russian involvement in the ‘rose revolution’ was rather one of mediation and support of opposition than of defending the leadership. In Ukraine, on the other hand, the ‘orange revolution’ revealed the real stakes at hand: a pro-Russian or a pro-Western course. Putin was persuaded to accept Yushchenko as the new leader only after interventions from Western leaders in a situation that looked dangerous. The ‘orange revolution’ was a serious lesson to Putin, but from now on Putin picked up the glove and argued for non-Western interference in elections in CIS countries. There were fears that ‘colour revolutions’ were contagious and would spread to the elections that were to follow in several CIS states in 2005. Riots in Kyrgyztan in March had only few elements of a ‘colour revolution’, but Western criticism of human rights in Andijon brought Putin close behind the Uzbek leader. Other elections followed, and in Azerbaijan, Russian and Western election norms once again hit the agenda. The issue hit with full force in the presidential elections in Belarus in spring 2006, where the West had virtually no carrots, and the regime remained firmly seated. Putin has thus reinforced his influence over the not so democratically minded leadership in many CIS states. The concept of ‘sovereign democracy’, although borrowed, became a catchword for the Eurasian version of democratic development. Putin compared the colour revolutions to disorder (RFE/RL Newsline 31 January 2006), and Sergey Ivanov said with respect to Belarus that ‘democracy is not a potato that grows wherever you plant it’ (RFE/RL Newsline 6 February 2006).

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These are the three arenas where Putin’s foreign policy has been played out in the CIS region. With respect to the chronological order when the arenas first appeared in practical policies, the evidence shows the order to be from the politico-military ‘terrorism’ security issues in the very early Putin period, to the politico-economic and energy issues in his late first term, to the politico-cultural ‘election norms’ issue in his late second term.

18.4 Russia’s relations to the Russia-led security complex – after Putin The fate of the individual bilateral relationships is easier to predict than the fate of the project of rebuilding Greater Russia. The prospects for a future close relationship to Russia of the 11 former Soviet republics are developed below in a time perspective of about ten years. The starting point is, of course, the integration picture offered above. In the European sub-complex, Ukraine is the evident first trophy for any winner, and a loss of Ukraine to those who dream of Greater Russia will take the actors involved to the highest game levels. The developments in Ukraine itself after the ‘orange revolution’ point to a Russian victory, if Europe and the West choose not to give the necessary carte blanche to save Ukraine from a firm Russian embrace. Tragedy, yes, unpredictable, no. Belarus will undoubtedly remain the most dependent of the CIS states on Russia, not only because of its isolation from the rest of the (Western) world, but because it will be more or less defenceless against Russia both as a security provider and as a provider of economic safety and energy. Belarus’ economic dependency on Russia is still being vigorously fought by Lukashenka, but he will in my prediction have to give in to the ‘Big Brother’ in the end. Moldova is, unfortunately, a small and fairly uninteresting bounty for any external power, but fortunately it is not very much prioritized by Russia either. The basic conflict issue – the Transdniester conflict – is not likely to find a legal solution acceptable to all parties in the years to come, which will in turn remain an effective obstacle to an alternative Moldovan orientation. Only a fool would dare to predict even general developments in the Caucasus. Armenia rests in a firm Russian embrace, while the other two states are less likely to end up there. In the longer perspective, Azerbaijan might be co-opted in the Western sphere provided that Turkey ends up there too; if Turkey remains on the outside, Azerbaijan may have to choose between an extremely uneasy marriage with Turkmenistan and/or Turkey or return to the more familiar ‘Russian house’. Georgia, finally, and I am happy to be wrong, will have a tough road ahead since Russia will continue its policy of subjugation. In the worst-case scenario, Georgia will again fall prey to its own weakness. In Central Asia, Russia will in the medium to long term come out on top after the US military presence is finalized. Here, all except Turkmenistan will remain close to Russia. In this regional sub-complex, security and economic dependencies will play out in the full. Kazakhstan will remain close because of tradition

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and a certain irresolution as an independent actor, and Kyrgyztan and Tajikistan will remain close because of their evident security and economic dependencies. Uzbekistan has already given up its ambition to resist Russian domination and will stay close to Russia in the years to come. Turkmenistan is the most unpredictable of the five Central Asian states, but will most likely remain stuck on the fence between Russia and Turkey for some time. Since Putin has been a major reformer both domestically and internationally, we may be wise to consider what it is that Putin has done and put him in some perspective before we look into the crystal ball. As Sakwa has noted, Putin from the very beginning set out to drastically transform the Russian political system despite a weak political base (Sakwa 2004: 74–76). Putin is what Sakwa calls ‘a conviction politician’ who ‘remained loyal to a core set of beliefs about the type of state and society he wished to see established in Russia’ (Sakwa 2004: 77–78). He became a consensual and centrist politician, but of a radical type who envisaged a ‘third way’ (Sakwa 2004: 79, 80). Putin’s leadership style was not evident on the foreign policy arena from the beginning; it became evident only after 11 September. Shevtsova points out that ‘[t]here are times when leaders make history. There are also times when history makes leaders. That is what happened in fall 2001 in Russia, when the terrorist attacks on the United States forced the Russian president to make a choice that turned a mediocre politician into a leader who amazed the world by proposing a completely new role for Russia’. September 11 was the catalyst that Putin needed to take an open stand, and the entire foreign policy orientation changed (Shevtsova 2003: 207ff.). In the greater picture, Putin has indeed kept Russia on the main stage of world politics despite strong Eurasian sentiments in Russia during his reign. In this sense, he has remained what Jackson calls a ‘liberal westernizer’ (Jackson 2003: 6). But where is Putin on the scale of ‘Eurasianism’ created by Tzygankov (2003: 106ff.) – does he belong to the expansionists, the civilizationists, the stabilizers, the geo-economists? Here, I have to admit, Putin appears a fairly ‘split personality’. In his endevours to rebuild Greater Russia, he might be seen as an expansionist, but not in the traditional geo-political sense of acquiring new territory, but rather of denying others influence. This is, in my view, the main explanation to Putin’s policies with respect to Ukraine, Moldova and Georgia. But Putin also has a mission – as a civilizationist – in the sense that he wants to restore Greater Russia precisely on the foundation of a common history and traditions of the old Russian and Soviet empires. This has been most evident in his arduous defence of election procedures in the not so democratic countries of many CIS states, but also in his attitudes towards the plight of Russian minorities in Central Asia and his inability to see the plight of illegal migrants in Russia. In terms of security and defence, Putin certainly is a stabilizer, an orderer who attempts to create predictability by denying influence to forces not complying with his own notion of Greater Russia. Finally, Putin constitutes the first Russian geo-economist leader in the way in which he attempts to subdue

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other nations with the help of the purse rather than the sword. The probability that Putin’s successor would have even remotely the same mix of political genes is low. For this reason, the question of whether or not Greater Russia will indeed be rebuilt, that Putin’s re-integration attempt will succeed, is an open one. Now then, what are the perspectives of ‘Putinism’ after Putin – what is the result of the post-imperialist strategy described in the chapters above or the reintegration attempt of the CIS countries? As noted by Trenin in the 1990s, while Russia is too large to be integrated into something, it can itself regain capacity to re-integrate others (Trenin 1998: 3). The most obvious factors pointing to a success of the re-integration attempt of the CIS countries are the common socioeconomic, socio-cultural and national security factors (Selezneva 2003: 21). The extent to which Russia will be integrated into an increasingly globalized polity and economy may, indeed, also provide an answer to the question of success for the project on Greater Russia. To the extent that Russia is firmly aboard the globalization train, or lost to the ‘forces of diversity’, then the very incentives to rebuild Greater Russia might be lost, as Trenin suggests (Trenin 2002: 304). But Greater Russia itself might also be a foreign policy pre-condition for the reinstatement of Russia as a super power, as Hill implies (Hill: 2001), which therefore upholds incentives to rebuild it. In the end, there are also other actors and institutions in the world that influence the process of rebuilding Greater Russia, the most important of which are the United States, the EU and NATO, and to some extent also China. There is an evident risk that a Greater Russia is being rebuilt as a security and defence counter-weight to NATO in Eurasia, and that it is being rebuilt as an economic counter-weight to the EU (cf. Bugajski 2004: 56). In such a scenario of new dividing lines, of which the world has seen far too many, the idea of Greater Russia might indeed turn into another rebuilt empire, to the detriment not only of Russia’s neighbours but also of Russia itself as a great nation and state.

Notes

1 Introduction 1 There is no question in my mind that Russia is a regional great power in the Putin era, the indisputable leader of the CIS region. September 11 and its aftermath has emphasized this. For an analysis of this re-entrance into the world scene as a Great Power and a ‘security player’, see Neumann 2005. 2 To describe this as three policy arenas largely corresponds to notions of foreign policy objectives and instruments. But since I am concerned with President Putin as an actor largely in bilateral relationships, I find it more accurate to speak of arenas where strategies, policies and instruments are being played out. One could also speak of political, economic and cultural arenas, of ‘hard’ and ‘soft’ policies, or of security, economics and identity policies. For a discussion of ‘hard’ and ‘soft’ policies in Russian foreign policy, see Lomagin 2005. For a discussion of Russian counterterrorism policies and measures, see Stepanova 2005 and Baev 2005. 3 Abkhazia, South Ossetia and Transdniester all include the following ingredients: a Russian military presence, a Russian political interest, an armed regional resistance to the central, federal government, a mixed ethnic content, an aspiration to independence from the federal government, and a direct linkage to the Russian Federation. Historically, there have been a few more such breakaway regions, the most loaded of which was the Crimea in Ukraine. 4 Lo argues that if one judges from the documents and talks in the early Putin period, foreign policy does seem to be going through a process of ‘economization’. But he also suggests that one cannot trust documents and speeches, that one has to look for where Russia has concentrated its bulk of activities (Lo 2003a: 15). In other words, Lo suggests that there is a difference between verbalized politics and other foreign policy outcomes. Lo also suggests that the most important feature of Putin’s foreign policy is ‘securitization’ and ‘hard security issues’, despite his talk of economic priorities (Lo 2003a: 14). But Lo also suggests that there are underlying security considerations in Putin’s foreign policy (Lo 2003a: 16); that Putin has taken a broader perspective where geo-political concerns have been matched with an emphasis on economic interests, and that there are parallel tendencies in Putin’s foreign policy, both geo-political and economic. Lo suggests that we talk of this as a ‘geopolitization’ or ‘securitization’ of economic priorities (Lo 2003a: 19). I will return to this basic question of priorities in the concluding chapter, but let it be noted that my concern is not with the issue of what goals dominate but rather with how they are related. As Nesvetailova has said about the integration within the Russo–Belarus Union, the ‘economic/politics divide’ is artificial in real life and can only serve analytical purposes (Nesvetailova 2003: 160). Generally speaking, in approaching the question of ‘what is Putin’s dominating objective’ with respect to the CIS regional security complex, one should realize that there are several more or less likely logical

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possibilities: from a unified state with Russia, to a total dissolution of the Russia-led security complex. Roeder argues that in between the extreme results, there is also the possibility of a collective management of security, a regional concert or balance of power, or involvement of great powers from outside the region. A regional concert or the dissolution of the complex are the least likely alternative futures (Roeder 1997: 242). In 2005, Putin himself described the time of his arrival in the Kremlin in the following words: ‘Individual savings were depreciated, and old ideals destroyed. Many institutions were disbanded or reformed carelessly. Terrorist intervention and the Khasavyurt capitulation that followed damaged the country’s integrity. Oligarchic groups – possessing absolute control over information channels – served exclusively their own corporate interests. Mass poverty began to be seen as the norm. And all this was happening against the backdrop of a dramatic economic downturn, unstable finances, and the paralysis of the social sphere (Putin speech 25 April 2005). Indeed a bleak picture of a fallen Great Power. Had Putin added the losses in the CIS area after the demise of the USSR, he might have come up with a list of defeats and disasters to include the extremely bitter experiences of ethnic clashes on former Soviet territory, the wars in Nagorno-Karabakh, Tajikistan, South Ossetia, Abkhazia, Transdniester and Chechnya in a few years caused at least some 100,000 deaths and some US$15 billion (Sakwa 2002: 387–388). Wallander suggests that ‘leadership politics’ is one out of three traditional approaches (where the other two are ‘political structure’ and ‘ideology’). In her view, the perspective of ‘leadership politics’ is rather one that I would refer to as ‘bureaucratic politics’ or ‘government politics’, something much closer to the in-fighting and personal relations within the political elite (Wallander 1996: 6–7). Here, leadership politics rather refers to ‘the politics of the leadership’. The distinction might seem insignificant, but to me it is not: while Wallander tries to explain Russian foreign policy, I am instead trying to describe and analyse Putin’s foreign policy. Prime Minister Mikhail Kazyanov was largely kept as ‘a boy for beating’ up to early 2004 (Shevtsova 2003: 88). The same goes, in principle, for the recipients of Putin’s foreign policy towards the CIS states, i.e. the heads of states, who are also frequently quoted below. Macfarlane suggests that Russia’s tradition in dealing with its neighbours is rather ‘one of force than persuasion, coercion rather than consent’, that Russia lacks ‘the state capacity to implement a hegemonic policy in the CIS’ (Macfarlane 2003: 129, 130). Of the 26 million ethnic Russians living abroad, some 15 million are in the west – Ukraine, Estonia and Latvia – and some six million in northern Kazakhstan and some five million in Uzbekistan, Kyrgyztan, Turkmenistan and Tajikistan (Trenin 2002: 168). Regions became more evident features in world politics, and the question of whether the Russia-centred region of the CIS states is sufficiently different from other regions to warrant an approach of its own is in my view entirely a question of the level at which a comparison of regions takes place. Generally speaking, the more general the levels of abstraction, the more likely that regions are indeed comparable. The opposite is also true: the lower the level of abstraction, the more likely that the CIS constitute a very special case (cf. Lake and Morgan 1997: 3–4, 8–9). In a later book on ‘securitization, sectors and levels of analysis’, Buzan et al. conclude that this definition has to be changed to a more general one: ‘A regional security complex is defined as a set of units whose major processes of securitization, de-securitization, or both are so interlinked that their security problems cannot reasonably be analyzed or resolved apart from one another’ (Buzan et al. 1998: 201). Apart from the changed focus from a more realist to a more constructivist notion in the definition, the major difference between the two has to do with the sector thinking

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and the actors involved. Since the focus here is on states and their highest formal representatives, my choice of formal definition is on the ‘early’ Buzan. This fact in itself makes a regional security complex rather distinct from regional orders. Security externalities break up the ‘region-ness’ of the RSC. This is best seen in the biggest problem of all: to conclude whether great powers or super powers are global powers or regional powers (Buzan and Waever 2003: 33). Buzan and Waever present definitional criteria for a three-tiered scheme – superpowers and great powers at the global level, and regional powers at the regional level (Buzan and Waever 2003: 34). For discussions of superpowers, see Buzan and Waever (2003: 34–35), great powers (2003: 35–37), regional powers (2003: 37). The answer is that regional powers are those whose ‘capabilities loom large in their regions’, i.e. whose influence is felt first and foremost in that particular RSC and not globally (Buzan and Waever 2003: 37). A hegemonic great power may in principle adopt a ‘balancer approach’ or it may attempt to create ‘a Bismarckian alliance system’ – a network of alliances with smaller powers in the region. Or it may establish an order based on ‘hegemonic stability theory’. In principle, in the Russia-centred RSC, ‘one of five possible orders seems likely: hegemony, balance of power, concert, collective security or a pluralistic security community’ (Papayoanou 1997: 132–133). It is evident, for example, that in all three major regions of the former Soviet Union, ‘Russia is the major antagonist, the primary ally of each side, or the principal mediator’. With respect to Ukraine and Moldova, Russia has been the major antagonist in ‘the Russo–Ukrainian dispute over the Black Sea Fleet, nuclear weapons, and the Crimea, and the Russo–Moldovan dispute over Trans-Dniestria’ (Roeder 1997: 224–225; Buzan and Waever 2003: 409). In the Caucasus, Russia has ‘been the primary ally of both sides, and the principal mediator in the search for a resolution, of the three wars that have scarred this region – the Armenian–Azerbaijan war over Nagorno-Karabakh and Georgia’s wars with Abkhazia and South Ossetia’. In Central Asia, all five states ‘have accepted Russia’s leading role in managing security’ (Roeder 1997: 225). This argument holds even more true today, despite the competition from the United States. The western region does not in itself constitute a sub-complex, while the Caucasus and Central Asian states both constitute two separate sub-complexes (Buzan and Waever 2003: 419). The Caucasus sub-complex has a very strong Russian component in the north and south Caucasus conflicts. Central Asia is a region of both weak states and weak powers, with low interaction capacity, and with weak national and ethnic identities (Buzan and Waever 2003: 423–424), and its security problems are rather transnational than inter-state (Buzan and Waever 2003: 429). The western theatre ‘is both the least and the most security-intense’ of the sub-regions of the Russia-centred RSC, since it is more stable than other sub-regions, but at the same time also more significant because of the Russian identity question that is raised by the sheer existence of Belarus and Ukraine. The Western sub-region is also crucial for the defence of Russia and for linking Russia to the rest of Europe (Buzan and Waever 2003: 416). This sub-chapter on early history is adopted after Cohen, S.B. (2003: 189–202). Or, in the words of Henry Kissinger: ‘. . . for centuries, imperialism has been Russia’s basic foreign policy as it has expanded from the region around Moscow to the shores of the Pacific, the gates of the Middle East and the centre of Europe, relentlessly sub-jugating weaker neighbors and seeking to overawe those not under its direct control. . . . Russia on the march rarely showed a sense of limits; thwarted, it tended to withdraw into sullen resentment’ (Henry Kissinger, quoted in Trenin 2002: 30). Trenin offers two basic types of factors that explain Russia’s first imperialization: geographic factors – ‘when Russia was weak, nature offered it little protection; but when it grew strong, there were few geographical barriers to stop it from projecting its power in virtually all directions’; and cultural factors – Russia as a ‘land bridge’

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between western Europe and the ‘genuine’ Asia of the Far East, emphasizing ‘the uniqueness of Russian culture and civilization’ and its mission being ‘to unify the entire Eurasian landmass’ (Trenin 2002: 31–35). Trenin has also offered three models of expansion, the collecting lands model of the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries, the moving of borders model from the sixteenth century, and the strategic borders model (a more permanent feature) (Trenin 2002: 37ff., 42ff. and 46ff.). 20 Or (in Trenin’s words): It is impossible for Russian leaders and the public alike not to see their country as a great power, but it is extremely difficult for them to come to terms with the huge and growing discrepancy between the country’s geographical size and its currently negligible economic and trade weight and the low ‘social status’ among the nations of the world. (Trenin 2002: 11) 21 For some of them, see Malcolm et al. 1996; Wallander 1996; Petro and Rubinstein 1997; Blank and Rubinstein 1997; Mandelbaum 1998; Donaldson and Nogee 2002. 22 After 11 September and up to winter 2002/03 when the Iraq invasion was ‘on the go’, Putin never once talked of the necessity of creating a ‘multipolar world’ (see Nygren 2002). In fall 2002, as we shall see, Russia tried to use the common stance on international terrorism to threaten Chechens in Georgia (see Nygren 2005). 23 For an analysis of Russia’s relations to the USA and NATO, see Godzimirski 2005. For a more detailed analysis of Putin’s foreign policies in the world arena, see Oldberg 2005. 24 For current accounts of this Russian foreign policy change towards the United States in just one English-speaking Russian newspaper in the 12 months following 11 September, see for example, Zolotov 2001; Editorial in Moscow Times 10 October 2001; Rutland 2001; Podlesny 2001; Weldon 2002; Frolov 2002; Yavlinsky 2002; Trenin 2002; Vershbow 2002. 25 Ideas of ideological character include pan-Slavism in the late nineteenth Century, Marxism-Leninism in Soviet times, ‘new thinking’ (or liberal internationalism) under Gorbachev (Donald and Nogee 2002: 111). For an analysis of the Russian ‘national interest’ since the demise of the USSR, see Skak 2005. 26 A few general characteristics of Putin’s foreign policy were developed at an early stage of his first term, and since they have some bearing on what will be analysed below, let me point them out briefly. First of all, Putin’s foreign policy was very much more ‘active’ as opposed to Yeltsin’s more ‘reactive’ foreign policy (Herspring 2003: 225, 250). Second, Putin was an ‘advocate of realpolitik’ who wanted to restore Russia as a great power, although non-ideological, not bound by doctrinal tenets, he simply was ‘a calculating pragmatist’ (Herspring 2003: 225–226). According to Lo, the ‘genesis’ of Putin’s foreign policy lies in ‘the duality of his inheritance’, i.e. to form a consensus on the Russian national identity and to reform the Russian political system and restore order at the same time as ending Russia’s ‘international downfall’. Putin’s inexperience with high-level Russian politics, his St Petersburg homestead, and his KGB background made him look clean and innocent. In short, Putin’s ‘apparent weakness made him attractive’, and he offered more of a rational approach and therefore greater predictability (Lo 2003b: 29–30). The very need for such a doctrine in Russia is in itself a sort of de javu for students of Soviet foreign policy. This foreign policy concept was fairly clear-cut and accepted in the foreign policy elite. Putin need not have been a passive bystander in the process that brought about the document. Quite the contrary, his formal position as Prime Minister and then President-to-be at the very latest stages of the creation of the document, and before that as Head of Yeltsin’s Presidential Administration and Head of the Federal Security Service during the earlier and formative stages of the document, points in the opposite direction. 27 A more thorough account of the document is offered in Nygren (2002).

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28 For an analysis of these speeches along the lines of my argument here, see Fedorov (2004). 29 Buzan et al. themselves refer to the situation as one in which the ‘sector linkages resemble the ultimate consequence of Karl von Clausewitz’s dictum: ‘War is the continuation of politics with a mixture of the other means’ (Buzan et al. 1998: 166–167). 30 Buzan and Little (2000) refer separately to international military-political systems, international economic systems and international socio-cultural systems in their attempt to trace the development of international systems for the last 5,000 years (Buzan and Little 2000: 95). The danger of dividing analyses into arenas is that they might be conceived of as ‘closed’, i.e. regarded as unrelated (cf. Buzan et al. 1998: 167). I prefer notations like the politico-military, the politico-economic and politico-cultural arenas of foreign policy to make clear that it is the political aspect of activities in these spheres that are of interest in describing and analysing the re-integration attempt. This could be compared to Tsygankov’s division of goals (Tsygankov 2003: 104) or to Trenin’s description of factors behind Russia’s enlargement (Trenin 2002: 31ff.). 2 The regional organizations of the Russia-led regional security complex 1 Azerbaijan left the CIS in 1992 but rejoined in late 1993, and Georgia was more or less forced to join in 1993. Of the former 15 Soviet Republics, only the three Baltic states never even considered membership. In 1992, a visa-free agreement was signed by the CIS members. 2 From February 1994, after the first years of euphoria for the West, the ‘near abroad’ (and especially the CIS) was claimed to have the highest priority in Russia’s foreign relations. In January 1994, Kozyrev said that ‘Russia’s vital interests are concentrated in, and being threatened from, that space’. At the same time, Yeltsin stressed that Russia must be ‘the first among equals’ in the region (quoted in Roeder 1997: 227). 3 In particular, in 1997, Karimov claimed that Russia had not ‘renounced the imperial vision with regard to former USSR republics’, and suggested that relations should be developed ‘on an equal basis’ and not ‘according to Russia’s desire’ were particularly to the point (RFE/RL Newsline 18 September 1997). When the CIS summit was postponed in 1997, it was partly because of the publication of a Russian blueprint for subverting several CIS member states. Reactions were sure to follow, and the Azeri president Heidar Aliev criticized the CIS for ‘not being built on a parity basis but rather revolving around Russia’ (RFE/RL Newsline 14 October 1998). 4 In April 1993, the Uzbek president Islam Karimov complained that he had had to reject as many as 270 agreements as unacceptable (Fuller 2005i). Often, CIS agreements were signed only by a few (Malcolm et al. 1996: 6–7). 5 In March 1998, Izvestiya calculated that of a total of 886 documents signed by CIS presidents or premiers, only 130 contained the signatures of representatives from all 12 CIS member states. It was also noted that only 259 of those 886 accords had been implemented and that only five of the 108 agreements that required ratification had been ratified by all CIS member states, among them the CIS Collective Security Treaty (RFE/RL Newsline 19 March 1998). Selezneva (2003: 20) concludes that in ten years, the EU signed 60 agreements and passed 1,500 laws, while in the CIS, 1,200 agreements were signed and no laws passed. Criticism was especially hard from Lukashenka, who in 1999 claimed that ‘the CIS . . . doesn’t even fulfil the role of a political club’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 May 1999). 6 For one of the best examples of why the CIS sphere is the most important to Russia, see Putin’s interview to the Chinese People’s Daily in June 2002, when he said that ‘Russia openly states that it has special interests within [the zone of] the Commonwealth of Independent States as far as the protection of its . . . national security is concerned’, but that this aspect of Russia’s foreign policy was not intended to dominate

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its neighbours, but dictated by humanitarian factors: ‘[t]here are over 20 million of our compatriots living in CIS countries, and Russia cannot and will not abandon its responsibility for the way they live and how their rights are observed’ (RFE/RL Newsline 5 June 2002). Critics of the CIS dismissed it as a dead organization. In November 2001, a group of experts reached a consensus that the CIS had failed in all but one respect – the relatively peaceful disintegration of the Soviet Union (RFE/RL Newsline 30 November 2001). In October 2002, these negative aspects of the CIS were particularly evident among analysts; see Nezavisimaya Gazeta 7 October 2002, pp. 10, 11. Again, in late 2005, some influential Russian analysts believed it to be high time to declare the death of the CIS (RFE/RL Newsline 27 December 2005). Even ‘the funeral service’ of the USSR was itself said to be dead (RFE/RL Newsline 22 March 2005). The typical argument in the Moldovan opposition was that Moldova remained a hostage of Russia within the CIS (RFE/RL Newsline 3 September 2002). In 2000 and 2001, Georgian parliamentarians discussed leaving the CIS because of the new visa regime that had been announced by Russia (RFE/RL Newsline 22 November 2000). Putin reacted calmly to the notions of Georgia leaving the CIS, stating that ‘the withdrawal of Georgia [from the CIS] would only reduce the burden which Russia has taken on itself in view of the special relations with the republic in the political sphere’ (RFE/RL Newsline 15 October 2001). When a group of experts responded to the issue, they concluded that it would not lead to the demise of the CIS as a whole if Georgia left the CIS (RFE/RL Newsline 16 October 2001). Analysts were of a different opinion, the CIS indeed failed to politically re-integrate the former Soviet republics, but it helped to avoid a Yugoslav scenario and also helped to ‘ideologically camouflage the process of the USSR’s collapse, the emergence of new states and the coming to power of the new regional elites’ and ‘created the space for the lower-level integration’ – connecting transport, power and communications networks (Knox 2001; Torbakov 2001b). Putin’s speech was devoted to Eurasian integration and globalization. He also said that chauvinism, nationalism and personal ambitions of leaders were impediments to Eurasian integration. ‘But we are intelligent people, so let me conclude with an appeal: Intelligent people of the world, unite!’ Putin claimed a leading role for Russia in Eurasian cooperation, saying that ‘Russia is the very centre of Eurasia’. Nazarbaev had been promoting the concept of a ‘Eurasian Union’ for the past decade (RFE/RL Newsline 18 June 2004). Lavrov accused the United States of ‘double standards’ with respect to the US support for colour revolutions (RFE/RL Newsline 31 January 2005). Doubts as to whether the CIS would survive were plentiful also in summer 2005 as a result of the ‘colour revolutions’ (Corso 2005c; Mite 2005; Blagov 2005c). The one important exception to integration is the CIS 1992 visa regime from which Russia withdrew in 2000 as an effect of the second Chechnya war. Kuchma complained: ‘who needs the CIS in such circumstances?’ (Goble 2000). There were new visa rules for Belarus, Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Armenia and Moldova. By 2005, several more CIS states (Kazakhstan, Belarus, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan) had withdrawn from the visa-free agreement. See Black 2004: 207–208. Even before the Taliban had taken over in Kabul, then Security Council Secretary Aleksander Lebed noted that if the Taliban combined forces with the Tajik opposition operating in northern Afghanistan, they could easily ‘sweep away Russian border posts in Tajikistan, and the road to the north across the plains will be open’ (OMRI DD 2 October 1996). There was in the late 1990s a consensus in the Russian elites that Russian military intervention was justified if it helped to maintain Russia’s status as a Great Power, protected Russian nationals abroad, prevented the spread of instability from abroad,

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concerned important geo-political interests and is supported by Russian public opinion (Cimbala 2001: 153). The air defence system would include nine of the 12 CIS countries (all except Azerbaijan, Moldova and Turkmenistan). For the external border patrolling, see Bugajski 2004: 57. For its organizational structure, see Zagorsky 1998: 282ff. Georgia demanded unspecified amendments and Azerbaijan complained that the treaty failed to end Armenia’s aggression (RFE/RL Newsline 5 February 1999). The Uzbek President Islam Karimov complained that ‘when the Taliban captured the northern part of Afghanistan and were pointed toward us, no one from the CIS helped us’ (RFE/RL Newsline 11 February 1999). Ivanov’s comments were a direct reaction to newspaper reports that the Russian government would exercise a veto over possible NATO or American use of bases in Central Asia (RFE/RL Newsline 20 September 2001). One year later, at least Kazakhstan’s president seemed to have accepted Russia’s right to pre-emptive strikes at terrorists on CIS territory: ‘Russia has the right to do this now that the United States has already announced its intention to act pre-emptively against terror worldwide.’ He had, however, one major qualification: ‘Pre-emptive strikes should be conducted only by the states on whose territory terrorist bases are located’ (RFE/RL Newsline 13 September 2004). Initially, Putin and the other five heads of state seemed reluctant to the idea (RFE/RL Newsline 15 May 2002). For Putin’s analysis after the summit, see Putin 14 May 2002; Putin statement 14 May 2002. The summit did not agree on establishing a joint military command under Russian leadership, however (Isachenkov 2002; Blagov 2002c). The Russian seriousness with respect to the CSTO was also reflected in the fact of withdrawal from its costly foreign military bases in Vietnam and Cuba in summer 2003, the reason for which Sergey Ivanov explained to be to increase its presence in the CIS countries (RFE/RL Newsline 20 June 2003). The CSTO members first supported the French–German–Russian position to avoid a war, then stood up against the attack on Iraq without a UN Security Council approval and thus following the Russian line. (For the consequences for the CST, see Putin remarks 21 March 2003.) The creation of the rapid-reaction force was at the time seen as a potential watershed for the CST (De Temple 2001; Khachatrian 2001b). In addition to the air group and a battalion of tactical troops from Russia, the CST Rapid Reaction Force was to include an airborne-assault battalion provided by Kazakhstan, a mountain-infantry battalion from Kyrgyztan, and an airborne-assault or infantry battalion from Tajikistan (RFE/RL Newsline 29 April 2003 and RFE/RL Newsline 30 April 2003). The two airbases were said to have different functions: the US Manas base exclusively supported operations in Afghanistan, while the Kant airbase was to protect the security of the Central Asian members, serving as the air component of the CIS rapidreaction force (RFE/RL Newsline 10 July 2003). The presidents also approved in principle a request by Tajikistan to be admitted to the Customs Union. The importance of such a zone was obvious from Kuchma’s remark that if the CIS did not create a free-trade zone, its political prospects would be ‘illusory’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 June 2001). An article in Nezavisimaya Gazeta (11 September 2001) predicted that the CIS was not going to break up ‘since it served the interests of bankers and traders, not just diplomats’ (RFE/RL Newsline 12 September 2001). The EEC was the invention of Kazakhstan’s President Nursultan Nazarbaev who had outlined such measures in January 1998. The initial focus was to be purely economic, and contributed to Nazarbaev’s grandiose 1994 vision of a new Eurasian Union. The broad outlines of a five-year programme foresaw macro-economic stabilization, an

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improvement of the investment climate, and adequate food supplies (see also Black 2004: 276). In July 2002, the EEC wanted to upgrade the observer status of Ukraine and Moldova to full membership, and in April 2003 Armenia too received observer status in the EEC. Lukashenka was cautious, noting that ‘[i]f Russia, Ukraine, and Kazakhstan make real steps forward, we will keep abreast’, but also added that ‘[i]f there are some reservations, a different pace or different levels of integration, Belarus will stay away, because it costs a lot and there is a prospect of repeating the CIS fate’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 September 2003). The signing of the accord caused serious controversies even within the Ukrainian government (RFE/RL Poland, Belarus, and Ukraine Report 23 September 2003; see also Nezavisimaya Gazeta 18 September 2003). Putin himself referred to the popularity of the SES in the countries concerned. (See Putin press conference 19 September 2003.) There were reservations from those left outside the SES. Shevardnadze said that Georgia might participate in the SES provided that it did not infringe on its sovereign rights. The Moldovan President Voronin was ‘disappointed’ by the decision to set up a SES, which in his view would lead to ‘a depreciation of the CIS stock’ and that ‘the possible modernization of the CIS has been abandoned for good’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 September 2003). Putin recommended documents on foreign trade, customs tariffs and the business environment, Nazarbaev recommended beginning with establishing a customs union, while Kuchma suggested to start with a free-trade zone (Maksymiuk 2004). Putin admitted that he had spent 90 per cent of his time in arguments with the other SES leaders about the adoption of a single ‘economic constitution’, but that the four parties would define the priority of the 61 agreements at the September summit in Astana (Putin press statement 24 May 2004; RFE/RL Newsline 25 May 2004). Uzbekistan had been lobbying for the creation of a UN-sponsored anti-terrorism centre in Tashkent. The question of the location of the anti-terrorism centre was not yet solved, however, since the SCO member states had agreed earlier that the antiterrorism centre would be located in Bishkek. In the end, the centre was set up in Tashkent in early 2004. Critics have called the SCO ‘a club of dictators’ without much substance (RFE/RL Newsline 26 April 2006 and RFE/RL Newsline 30 May 2006). The 16 members were Afghanistan, Azerbaijan, China, Egypt, India, Iran, Israel, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, Mongolia, Pakistan, Palestine authorities, Russia, Tajikistan, Turkey and Uzbekistan.

Part II Russia and the European security sub-complex – relations with Belarus, Ukraine and Moldova 1 For a general overview of Putin’s policies in this regional sub-complex, see Hedenskog 2005. 3 Russia and Ukraine 1 For the early history of the Ukraine–NATO relationship, see Bilinsky 1999: 19ff. 2 This agreement on the Black Sea Fleet signed in 1997 gave Russia 80 per cent of the naval ships and 50 per cent of the Sevastopol naval base facilities. For an analysis of Russia’s nuclear weapons and the Black Sea Fleet issue in Yeltsin’s days, see Donaldson and Nogee 2002: 162ff. 3 Expert comments were almost as positive; see Nezavisimaia Gazeta 14 May 2002, p. 6; Nezavisimaia Gazeta 18 May 2002, p. 5; Nezavisimaia Gazeta 11 June 2002, p. 6. 4 Ukraine accused the Russian navy of using 96 facilities that did not belong to it (RFE/RL Newsline 1 February 2006). For an analysis, see Bellaby 2006a.

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5 For an analysis, see Maksymiuk 2006c; Bellaby 2006b; Bellaby 2006c. 6 For an analysis at the time, see Motyl 2003 and Sheer 2003. 7 While Ukraine wanted the Sea of Azovsk to be divided both by the bottom and the surface, Russia wanted to treat it as internal waters of the two countries, the bottom to be divided and the surface to be available for joint use by both countries. The possibility of oil and gas reserves on the shelf did not facilitate a solution to the different approaches. 8 For expert analyses, see Nezavisimaia Gazeta 12 August 2003, p. 1, 2. 9 Yushchenko could upon his inauguration still use the triumphant mood of the opinion, and in addressing 500,000 people on Independence Square, he said that: Ukrainians will occupy their rightful place in the community of nations. Ukraine will be neither a buffer zone, nor a playing field for somebody else’s competition. . . . We, with the [European] nations, belong to the same civilization. We share the same values. History, economic perspective [and] the interests of our people give us a clear answer to the question: Where is our destiny? Our place is in the European Union and my goal is ‘Ukraine in United Europe’. (RFE/RL Newsline 24 January 2005) 10 The row over gas in late December was criticized as ‘political’ in Europe and the United States (RFE/RL Newsline 6 and 9 January 2006; Belton 2006a). 11 The transit weapon was to be kept, and Yushchenko promised not to sell the Ukrainian gas pipelines to Russia for cheaper gas prices (RFE/RL Newsline 18 January 2006). Whether the gas price was indeed fixed for five years or not – as rumours held it to be – was questioned, and several other questions remained unanswered (RFE/RL Newsline 3 February 2006; Maksymiuk 2006a; Belton 2006b), especially on the Ukrgazenergo company set up by Rosukrenergo and the Ukraine company Naftogas. The ownership of the two companies was obscure. 12 The OSCE concluded that Ukrainian authorities and CEC ‘displayed a lack of will to conduct a genuine democratic election process’ (RFE/RL Newsline 22 November 2004) while Putin stated that ‘[t]he race was fierce – but open and fair – and the victory is convincing’ (RFE/RL Newsline 23 November 2004). 4 Russia and Belarus 1 The revival of pan-slavist and ‘Slavic unification’ ideas is a post-imperial syndrome (Karbalevich 2002). At least three reasons for this revival stand out: the interconnectedness of the economies (the Russian, Ukrainian and Belarusian economies), the (Soviet) culture of the political elites, and the ethnic–linguistic factor (Haran and Tolstov 2002). For the reasons of the Russian policy, see Nygren 2002a. Earlier versions of this sub-chapter are found in Nygren (2005b) and Nygren (2006). 2 These were to include a Union Council consisting of the two presidents, the two heads of government and the speakers of the two parliaments. The two states would remain independent and decisions would be made on a consensus basis. 3 The treaty was hailed by Gennady Zyuganov, leader of the Communist Party and Vladimir Zhirinovsky of the Liberal Democratic Party and opposed by Grigory Yavlinsky of the reformist Yabloko bloc (OMRI DD 3 April 1996). 4 The Russian–Belarusian Executive Committee met for the first time in April 1996 when it granted the citizens of each country equal rights to education and medical care in the other country. The Joint Assembly met for the first time in June 1996 when six committees were set up (for legal affairs, economics, social issues, foreign policy, crime and the environment). 5 See, for example, Lukashenka’s controversial speech in the Russian Duma in which he proposed ‘adequate measures’ to oppose NATO expansion (OMRI DD 14

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November 1996) or Yeltsin’s attempt to use unification with Belarus to oppose NATO expansion (OMRI DD 14 January 1997). The Russian Duma and the Federation Council ratified it a few days after that. Yeltsin then signed the Union Treaty and the accompanying Charter into law and the Union Treaty entered into force in June 1997. The new Russian–Belarusian Parliamentary Assembly was set up and met for the first time in June 1997. The Belarusian Parliament suggested that Primakov’s appointment would ‘deepen the integration process’ (RFE/RL Newsline 3 November 1998). Russian Foreign Minister Igor Ivanov put a brake on the enthusiasm, saying that the declaration was merely ‘a declaration, not a treaty of further unification’, while Lukashenka suggested that the union should have supranational authority and administrative bodies (RFE/RL Newsline 28 December 1998). In summer 1999, there was also some speculation that Yeltsin might take advantage of the creation of a union presidency to remain in power since he would not be able to run for a third term as President of Russia (Maksymiuk 2002d). The full text of the treaty was published in Nezavisimaia Gazeta on 9 December 1999. Putin said that economic ties should be the root of integration and that ‘defence and political plans cannot be built on a shaky economic foundation’. The two countries should concentrate on a single tax policy and customs area and joint tariff regulations, Putin said (RFE/RL Newsline 17 April 2000). Referring to Putin’s remark that the Belarusian economy amounted to only 3 per cent of Russia’s, Lukashenka said that: ‘It is not nice . . . to make us freeloaders. It is an insult to the Belarusian people. Nobody has allowed himself [to voice such an insult] during the ten years of Belarus’ independence and sovereignty’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 June 2002). Lukashenka later commented that the opponents were ‘already choking, to put it mildly, with their own sewage and burying the rapprochement of Belarus and Russia. But it’s too early for that’ (RFE/RL Newsline 20 June 2002). Even Yeltsin said that he did not understand why Putin was backtracking on the agreement he had signed with Lukashenka in December 1999: ‘What is unclear is why all of a sudden there is an urge to change [the 1999 accord]. It was a good agreement about a union state’ (RFE/RL Newsline 24 June 2002). For later analyses of the situation, see Maksymiuk 2002a; Kuzio 2002a; RFE/RL Poland, Belarus and Ukraine Report 18 June 2002. The reaction in Russian political circles varied; some interpreted Putin’s proposal ‘not as an ultimatum, but a businesslike offer’, not as an expression of ‘imperial ambitions, but a path for the democratic development of the Russia–Belarus Union . . . giving Belarus a chance to get away from the path of Lukashenka’ (RFE/RL Newsline 16 August 2002). For an analysis of the unification issue by the end of the year, see Maksymiuk 2002c and 2002d. The issue was first discussed in 1993 (Nesvetailovo 2003: 154–155). For analyses, see Nezavisimaia Gazeta 14 October 2003, p. 5, Nezavisimaia Gazeta 15 October 2003, p. 2. There were many joint military exercises. Some 40,000 Russian troops remained in Belarus after Belarusian independence in 1991 (Bugajski 2004: 66). The very Belarusian company that Russian Gazprom wanted to have a controlling stake in (i.e. Beltranzhaz) now cut off natural gas supplies to the Russian enclave Kaliningrad. The Kaliningrad Governor appealed for immediate assistance from Putin and Kasyanov, after which a gas pipeline between Latvia and Lithuania that had not been in use for the past 14 years was reactivated. The next day, the gas supply was normalized again. For an analysis, see Korchagina 2004; RFE/RL Belarus and Ukraine Report 18 February 2004; RFE/RL Belarus and Ukraine Report 2 March 2004.

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21 Russian gas prices vary domestically between US$29 and US$55 in 11 zones (Kupchinsky 2006a). 22 For an analysis, see Maksymiuk 2005e. 5 Russia and Moldova 1 In 1989, some 65 per cent were Romanians, some 13 per cent Russians and some 14 per cent Ukrainians. 2 For the war and its conclusion, see Lynch 2000: 112ff.; Jackson 2003: 82–83; Bugajski 2004: 99. 3 Transdniester borders on southwestern Ukraine and has one-third Russian and another one-third Ukrainian population of the total 555,000 (in 2004). 4 For the pre-Putin history of Russia’s relations with Moldova, see Bugajski 2004 and Jackson 2003: 107. 5 The first basic treaty that was signed in 1990 was never ratified by Russia since it lacked provisions for the interests of Transdniester. 6 The Moldovan parliament ratified the Treaty despite opposition from the nationalistic Popular Party Christian Democratic (RFE/RL Newsline 28 December 2001). The Russian Duma ratified the new treaty only in April 2002 after long discussions on the Transdniester provisions. 7 Below, the Transdniester conflict will be treated more in detail; both the negotiations on its status within Moldova, and the issue of weapons and troop withdrawals. This division of the Transdniester problematique into more than one issue is a deliberate attempt to grasp the details more than the general picture: the full picture is more complicated than the analytically separable issues suggest 8 The ‘common state’ would deal with foreign policy and border guards, while ‘internal borders’ should be ‘mutually transparent’ and ‘not subject to customs’. There would be two armies, security forces and police corps, which would not be able to operate on the other’s territory (RFE/RL Newsline 7 September 2000). 9 The continuation of the conflict suits the Transdniester leadership because ‘uncertainty daily drips money into their pockets’, Boris Pastukhov (Chairman of the Russian Duma’s Committee on CIS Affairs) said, since these leaders are ‘kings in a lawless kingdom where common sense no longer works’ (RFE/RL Newsline 26 March 2001). 10 Smirnov claimed that Primakov did ‘not express the official Russian position’ and also claimed that a solution ‘cannot be envisaged in the next 100 years’ and that Transdniestrians would ‘continue the edification of their own independent state’ (RFE/RL Newsline 25 April 2001). 11 In an interview in July, Voronin claimed that the Transdniester conflict would not be solved as long as Smirnov remained in power, that Transdniester was ‘a black hole flourishing on corruption and contraband trade’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 July 2001). 12 A ‘presidential election’ was due in Transdniester, and after a change of the regional constitution, Smirnov was able to run for a third term. He won more than 80 per cent of the votes. 13 Afterwards, Voronin claimed that the reason for backing off from the agreement was the clause on Russian continued presence in Transdniester, which he called ‘humiliating’ (RFE/RL Newsline 13 December 2004). 14 The issue of international peacekeepers aggravated the situation and in early 2004 Transdniester said it would consider a foreign peacekeeping contingent ‘a foreign military intervention’ in reaction to a Moldovan call for the international community to ensure ‘stabilization’ (RFE/RL Newsline 12 January 2004) and later threatened that ‘any attempt to exploit the current situation . . . will result in . . . a possible outbreak of new hostilities’ (RFE/RL Newsline 25 February 2004). 15 The SSPM plan was anchored on five principles that all signatories would pledge to

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respect: Moldova’s territorial integrity, full societal participation in the democratization process, promoting ethnic, cultural and linguistic diversity, neutrality, and settling the Transdniester conflict on the basis of a federal solution. The referendum was not recognized in Moldova, Ukraine, in the EU or in the United States. For analyses of the situation, see Tominc 2006; Yasmann 2006b; Abdullaev 2006b. For reactions in Ukraine, Moldova, the EU and in the USA, see RFE/RL Newsline 19 September 2006 and RFE/RL Newsline 20 September 2006. 26,000 tons would be recycled on the site at a special plant that was under construction, financed by the OSCE. The withdrawal of heavy arms had already been completed. For example, some 30,000 demonstrators protested in Chisinau against the government’s decision to replace the teaching of the ‘History of Romanians’ with the ‘History of Moldova’, and the Communist response was that ‘for 12 years, the Moldovan education system has prepared young people to become Romanian citizens – the time has come to prepare the young generation to be Moldovan citizens’ (RFE/RL Newsline 15 February 2002). The Moldovan government also introduced a ‘moratorium’ on the decision to replace the teaching of the ‘History of Romanians’ with the ‘History of Moldovans’ (RFE/RL Newsline 25 February 2002). The demonstrations faded for some time, and the problem was fairly diplomatically solved a year later (August 2003), when a new ‘integrated history’ course was introduced in Moldovan schools. The issue of the Transdniester anthem also shows the extent to which the language issue was a hot potato: it was to be sung in all three official languages – Russian, Moldovan and Ukrainian (RFE/RL Newsline 26 September 2003). By now, Moldova owed a total of US$1.26 billion to Gazprom, out of which Transdniester owed US$961 million. Moldova by now owed Gazprom some US$660 million including some US$540 million for Transdniester. In August, the Russian Duma suggested that Russian export prices on oil and gas should generally be set according to the foreign policies of the importing country (RFE/RL Newsline 5 August 2005). Gazprom had acquired 50 per cent of the company in 1999 (and 33 per cent belonged to Moldova and 13 per cent to Transdniester). Moldovan exporters lost between 40 and 80 per cent of their income (RFE/RL Newsline 2 December 2005). For an analysis, see Nezavisimaia Gazeta 26 August 2003, p. 5. The Transdniester conflict has haunted also Moldova’s relations to EU and NATO. In March 2003, the United States and the European Union imposed a travel ban on members of the Transdniester leadership. Moldova was the first EU neighbour with which the EU worked out such a plan, a plan that in the end would enable Moldova to start negotiations with the EU on associate status as early as 2007. The plans were part of the EU’s new ‘European Neighbourhood Policy’ to include Moldova, Ukraine, Morocco, Tunisia, Jordan, Israel and the Palestinian Authority (and later also the three Caucasus states). It was stressed that the ‘neighbourhood policy’ was ‘not an enlargement policy’. The policy was ‘a substantial offer . . . of much deeper cooperation and progressive integration into certain EU policies and programmes’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 December 2004). Voronin assured the visiting NATO Secretary-General that Moldova had no intention to sign an individual ‘action plan’ with NATO and that the Partnership for Peace programme suffices for cooperation with NATO. He added that Russia remains Moldova’s ‘strategic partner’ as stipulated in the 2002 basic treaty (RFE/RL Newsline 1 October 2004).

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Part III Russia and the Caucasus security sub-complex – relations with Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia and the regional conflicts 1 In this, I follow Buzan and Waever (2003). 2 Although several ethnicities are very old, most lived outside present-day Caucasus until quite recently (Smith et al. 1998: 65). 3 In addition, other actors, especially Turkey, saw an opportunity to become a ‘bridgehead’ of the West into Caucasus and Central Asia (Coppieters 1998: 56). 4 For a general history of the region in the Yeltsin era, see Donaldson and Nogee 2002: 175ff. 5 In November 2004, Sergey Ivanov announced that Russian forces in the north Caucasus (i.e. on Russian territory) had killed ‘terrorists from 52 countries of the world’. But Russia did not, he said, ‘accuse the state whose passport he carries of aggression against Russia’ (RFE/RL Newsline 5 November 2004). 6 Shevardnadze suggested that the meeting constituted ‘a turning point in Georgian–Russian relations’, a great misjudgement (RFE/RL Newsline 3 December 2001). 7 There are some 3,000 Russian peacekeeping troops since July 1994 (under the CIS aegis) in the Abkhaz conflict zone, and a smaller Russian contingent in the unrecognized Republic of South Ossetia (500 Russian, 500 Georgian and 500 South Ossetian peacekeepers). 8 Putin explained that ‘unemployment here is several times greater than the Russian average. Republics like Ingushetia, Chechnya and Dagestan have truly mass unemployment. . . . Virtually every republic in the north Caucasus has extremely high childmortality figures.’ These problems create grounds for ‘ideologues of international terrorism’, who are very active in the region (RFE/RL Newsline 14 September 2004). 6 The Nagorno-Karabakh conflict 1 For an analysis of the history of the Nagorno-Karabakh war, see Khachatrian 2004. 2 Azerbaijan demanded that Armenia not only unconditionally withdraw from occupied territories but also be suspended from the CIS Collective Security Treaty: ‘Armenia is an aggressor state . . . [which] pursues a policy of terrorism and separatism’ (RFE/RL Newsline 21 May 2001). Putin himself assured that Russia would not pressure any of the two conflicting parties (Putin press conference 25 May 2001). 3 There were even threats of war made; see Khachatrian 2001a. 4 The Armenian President Kocharian did not see any immediate solution to the conflict since both he and Aliev were reluctant to make more than minimal concessions (RFE/RL Newsline 1 July 2002). 5 In August, week-long military exercises by Nagorno-Karabakh armed forces did not alleviate the situation. 6 The Azeri foreign minister said that the talks had focused on a ‘phased’ solution to the Karabakh conflict, while the Armenian foreign minister said that Armenia continued to advocate a ‘package solution’ to the conflict (RFE/RL Newsline 15 December 2004). 7 Optimism was noticeable, however (see Danielyan 2005b; Matirosyan and Ismail 2005a; Alpeyrie 2005). 8 For an analysis of the future of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, see Fuller 2006a and Giragosian 2006b. 9 For two pessimistic analyses of the summit, see Ismailzade 2006a; Khachatrian 2006. 10 For an analysis of the summit claiming that nothing would happen before the Armenian parliamentary elections in 2007 and the presidential elections in Armenia and Azerbaijan 2007, see Fuller and Girogosian 2006. 11 The OSCE Minsk Group revealed information on the Nagorno-Karabakh peace plan

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– a phased withdrawal of Armenian forces from several Azeri districts. For an analysis, see Fuller 2006d; Parsons 2006; Abbasov and Ismailova 2006. 7 Russia and Azerbaijan 1 A secret weapon agreement was signed between Russia and Armenia in 1997, the revelation of which caused a further freeze in the Russia–Azerbaijan relationship. 2 True, in the very early Putin presidency, there were some accusations and counteraccusations as to actual Azeri support of Chechnya. For an analysis, see Hadjy-Zadeh 2000 and Torkunov 2000. 3 After the Moscow theatre hostage crisis, Azeri authorities cracked down on Chechens in Azerbaijan (van der Schriek 2002). In December 2003, four young men who recruited volunteers to fight in Chechnya were sentenced (RFE/RL Newsline 12 December 2003). 4 For example, in May 2001, Aliev claimed that Russia and Azerbaijan had ‘an identical understanding’ of the terrorism threat, and that military cooperation was expected. Russia specifically pointed to the extradition to Russia of ‘dangerous terrorists’ as a friendly act (RFE/RL Newsline 16 May 2001). 5 The radar station allowed Russia to monitor missile launches in the Persian Gulf area and in the Indian Ocean. 6 The agreements expanded the commitments of the Friendship and Cooperation Treaty of 1997 and were related to the Baku Declaration signed in 2001. Speculations about Azerbaijan foreign policy change and geo-political ambitions continued (Torbakov 2004c). 7 Some election procedures were indeed changed to remedy some of the complaints, in turn hailed by the Council of Europe, the OSCE and the United States (RFE/RL Newsline 27 October 2005). The most sincere demand by the opposition, to have larger representation in the election commissions, was not met, however (Fuller 2005j). 8 Russia and Armenia 1 For the general energy background, see Rimple 2005. Armenia has no other energy resources than hydropower (Pamir 2004: 124). 2 The Medzamor plant had been closed for several years after the 1988 earthquake and partly reopened only in 1996. 3 Armenia would retain ownership of Medzamor and responsibility for its safety and technical condition, while the UES would be responsible for finances. The power plant was old and located in a dangerous seismological area, and there were many suggestions by the EU simply to close it down. When running, Medzamor would provide more than 50 per cent of Armenia’s energy needs. 4 A conflict soon developed over the five Armenian enterprises ceded to Russia in payment of the debt. In January 2004, the assets-for-debt deal was rumoured (in Armenia) to be renegotiated (RFE/RL Newsline 30 January 2004). 5 There were at the time more than 1,000 vehicles and 250 heavy trucks and freight carriers destined for Armenia stranded along the Russian–Georgian border for nearly a month. 9 Russia and Georgia 1 For an analysis of the background to the Abkhazian conflict, one needs to know iron production history, the origin of local statehood, the ethnic composition of the ancient and medieval population in south Caucasus, the Abkhazian Kingdom founder in the eighth century AD and how Christianity entered the region (Smith et al. 1998: 53). 2 In the early Soviet era, North and South Ossetia had been an autonomous republic, the Mountain Autonomous Republic.

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3 For an analysis of arguments, see Felgenhauer 2002. 4 For an analysis, see Dzhindzhikhashvili 2003b, 2003c; Asriyan 2003; Blagov 2003f. 5 There was one working group on the framework treaty, others on the closure of Russia’s two military bases, the delimitation of the border, the visa regime, a possible joint anti-terrorism centre, and the conflicts in South Ossetia and Abkhazia (For an analysis of the negotiation situation in February, see Corso and Devdariani 2006.) 6 Russia also officially thanked the United States for seeing the Chechens as terrorists, and alleged that some of those who took part in the 11 September terrorist attacks had been trained in Chechnya, and also that Chechens had been trained at bin Laden camps. The US Secretary of State Colin Powell recognized that Russia was facing terrorism in Chechnya, although also noting that the problems could be resolved only by political dialogue (RFE/RL Newsline 5 October 2001). 7 Igor Ivanov put it quite differently, though: ‘The Caucasus is an area of special importance as far as Russian national interests are concerned, so any activities in the region cannot pass unnoticed by Russia’ (Devdariani 2002a). The Russian domestic conflict on the issue was obvious and when the Russian Duma almost unanimously adopted a resolution stating that the presence of US troops ‘may complicate the already difficult situation in the region’, expressing the hope that US military aid to Tbilisi ‘[would] not lead the Georgian leadership into seeking a military solution to armed conflicts in Abkhazia and South Ossetia’; the Georgian Foreign Ministry condemned the resolution as ‘a gross violation of international law’, but Shevardnadze tried to downplay its significance by pointing to the pronouncements by Putin (RFE/RL Newsline 7 March 2002). 8 Although the issue thus seemed to have been solved by Russia and the United States, it lingered for some time in the Russian Ministry of Defence, where one official said that ‘[t]he presence of American divisions in Georgia should worry any Russian soldier’ (RFE/RL Newsline 19 April 2002). 9 One such development was the recognition that it had been a mistake to deny the presence of Chechen rebels in Georgia, and that an ‘objective picture’ of their presence should have been provided instead of the numerous government denials (RFE/RL Newsline 19 April 2002). The Georgian Minister of National Security also confessed that there were an estimated 700 Chechen fighters and 100 Arab mercenaries in the Pankisi Gorge (RFE/RL Newsline 22 May 2002). A new census of Chechen refugees was made and concluded that there were by now only some 3,700 Chechen refugees in the valley as opposed to the more than 7,000 refugees from Chechnya in 2001 (RFE/RL Newsline 30 April 2002). For an analysis of the Pankisi Gorge situation with respect to Chechen warriors, see Silverman and O’Ceallaigh 2002. 10 Intrusions of unmarked aircraft had occurred also in the early 1990s, and only several years later did the Russians admit that the aircraft were Russian. There were several suggestions as to who flew the planes, including one that the aircraft with Russian markings were flown by Georgian pilots (RFE/RL Newsline 29 August 2002). The bombs themselves also became objects for closer investigation, without any definite conclusions. For an analysis of the situation in July and August, see also Areshidze (2002a). 11 Shevardnadze now admitted that Georgia could not completely control the Georgian–Chechen border (RFE/RL Newsline 12 September 2002). Shevardnadze chaired a four-hour meeting of his National Security Council to discuss the response to Putin’s threat, and the Georgian Parliament appealed to the United Nations, the OSCE, the European Union, the Council of Europe and NATO for protection from anticipated ‘Russian military aggression’. There were also some offers of mediation, e.g. from Armenia and Ukraine. Some believed that Putin’s threat was directed at the United States (Torbakov 2002c). 12 During a meeting between the Russian and US defence ministers, Sergey Ivanov repeated his uncompromising position on the Pankisi Gorge situation, arguing that

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16 17 18

19 20 21 22

23

24 25 26 27

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Russia had ‘tons of evidence’ that terrorists from Chechnya and from Arab and Muslim countries were operating in the Pankisi Gorge, and that some of them had links to al-Qaeda. The Georgian Foreign Minister addressed the UN General Assembly, calling Putin’s statement an open threat of aggression against Georgia and a ‘smokescreen’ to conceal Russia’s inability to end the Chechnya war. There were also some high-level bilateral talks on the situation between Russian Foreign Minister Igor Ivanov, Russian Defence Minister Sergey Ivanov, US Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, and US National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice (RFE/RL Newsline 20 September 2002). Georgia also admitted that only some 60 ‘criminals’ were left in Pankisi Gorge (RFE/RL Newsline 7 February 2003). The Russian Defence Minister was not easily convinced though and even claimed that the hostage crisis in Moscow’s Dubrovka Theatre had involved terrorists based in Georgia (RFE/RL Newsline 25 February 2003). For an analysis, see Nezavisimaia Gazeta 21 February 2003. The Russian State Duma deputy Dimitri Rogozin, known for his hawkishness, had already in August proposed that Russia had the right to attack Georgia to hunt Chechen warriors down, causing turmoil in the Georgian parliament (RFE/RL Newsline 20 August 2003). One closely related issue, that of the Russian border guards protecting Georgia’s borders, was resolved in 1998 when an agreement in principle on the withdrawal of the border guards was signed. In October 1999, the last Russian border guards left the Georgian borders (except for the Russian–Abkhazian border which was guarded by Abkhazians). For an analysis, see Lieven 2001. Since 1994, the 3,000 Russian forces in Abkhazia have been deployed under CIS mandate along the internal border between Abkhazia and the rest of Georgia, renewed at six-month intervals. In a major concession to Russia, Shevardnadze accepted that the CIS peacekeeping force should remain in Abkhazia as long as necessary (thus defying the Georgian parliament’s demand that they be withdrawn immediately) (Nezavisimaia Gazeta 4 December 2001: 7, 9). A hostage crisis (Georgian para-militaries seized four members of the Russian peacekeeping force) resulted in immediate emergency talks between Georgian, UN and Russian representatives (Silvermann 2002). For an analysis, see Fuller 2006f; Girogosian 2006c; Antidze 2006; Dzhindzhikashvili 2006c. For a history, see Smith et al. 1998: 59–60. Also in June, Georgia formally protested at a Russian convoy of some 150 military vehicles moving from North Ossetia to South Ossetia, which Saakashvili denounced as an ‘unfriendly act’. Russia denied the movement of troops and in turn repeatedly accused Georgia of not withdrawing their Interior Ministry troops (as agreed upon in May) saying that Georgia’s actions ‘do not contribute to normalizing the complex situation in the conflict zone’ (RFE/RL Newsline 14 June 2004). There were also new armed clashes, and Georgia protested against an incident involving an overflight by ‘a plane from the direction of the Russian Federation’ of South Ossetia and along the border area with Georgia proper (RFE/RL Newsline 9 August 2004). Russia denied the claim (RFE/RL Newsline 11 August 2004). For an analysis, see Blagov 2006a; Fuller 2006b; Corso and Jibladze 2006; Dzhindzhikashvili 2006b. For an analysis, see Fuller 2006e. For an analysis, see Blank 2006b. This one gas pipeline from Russia was the only one that is Georgian at present, until the US-sponsored BTE (Shah-Deniz) gas pipeline from Azerbaijan to Erzurum in Turkey via Tbilisi was inaugurated (in late 2006). The United States was not happy with the agreement.

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28 The sale also caused rifts within the government. The United States too was against the sale, since it could jeopardize ‘the realization of the Shah-Deniz project’ (Peuch 2005b). 29 The increase was from US$60 to US$110 per 1,000 cubic metres. Georgia would also increase its transit fees for gas to Armenia (RFE/RL Newsline 21 December 2005 and RFE/RL Newsline 22 December 2005). Both Ukraine and Georgia reacted immediately; see Corwin 2005. 30 For an analysis of the gas cut-off, see Girogosian 2006a; Petriashvili 2006a; Latynina 2006a. 31 Experts say that Russia’s pipeline systems are generally in very bad shape (RFE/RL Newsline 3 November 2006). 10 The Caucasus, the EU, NATO and the United States 1 In June 2003, for example, ten-day PfP military exercises were held in Armenia (named ‘Cooperative Best Effort 2003’) involving troops from 19 countries, including Russia. 2 The US European Command General visited Baku to oversee preparations for the ‘Cooperative Best Effort 2004’ PfP exercises. He stressed that the exercises should not be disrupted by the Armenian military presence. The Azeri-based Karabakh Liberation Organization immediately staged mass demonstrations (RFE/RL Newsline 10 September 2004). The Azerbaijani parliament appealed to NATO Secretary-General Jaap de Hoop Scheffer to cancel the invitation to the Armenian military delegation to the PfP exercises (RFE/RL Newsline 13 September 2004). Since Azerbaijan refused to issue visas to the five Armenian officers that had been invited, the exercises were promptly cancelled by NATO (see Fuller 2004). 3 Saakashvili’s first presidential term expires in January 2009, and under the Georgian Constitution he may run for a second term (RFE/RL Newsline 5 November 2004). 4 Georgia was also involved (on the margin) on the Iraq scene with the international stabilization force since August 2003. 5 The head of the Russian State Duma Committee for CIS Affairs said that the recent AWACS reconnaissance flights constituted ‘an unfriendly act’ (RFE/RL Newsline 11 July 2003). 6 An editorial in Izvestiya (on 20 August 2004) ridiculed Saakashvili’s ‘romantic dreams’ of full support from the United States, support that in the end might be ‘an illusion’. The reason was, according to the newspaper, that it was ‘very unlikely that the United States will put its good relations with Russia on the line because of Georgia’ (RFE/RL Newsline 20 August 2004). Part IV Russia and the Asian regional sub-complex – relations with Kyrgyztan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan 1 For an introduction to the early years, see Brill Olcott, M. (2001: 16ff.). 2 For a history of the Central Asian states and the Russian conquest, see Kort 2004; Jonson 2004. 3 Central Asia consists of ‘pre-modern states’ (Buzan and Waever 2003: 24). 4 Another problem is that the very civilizations in Russia and Central Asia are different (Malashenko 1998: 158). 11 The Caspian Sea basin – borders, oil and gas 1 The Caspian Sea problematique strongly influences both the narrower Caucasus security sub-complex and parts of the Central Asian sub-complex. 2 Kalyuzhnyi proposed a phased approach to resolve the question of the legal status of

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7 8 9

10 11

12 13

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the Caspian first and leaving oil and gas to a later stage, but Niyazov argued that environmental and other issues should be addressed only after the median line had been defined (RFE/RL Newsline 19 July 2000). In June, Kazakhstan urged that ‘[t]he delay in resolving issues related to the Caspian does not meet the national interests of the littoral states and worsens the problems related to this unique system’ (RFE/RL Newsline 10 June 2004). The issue was, of course, oil (Arnold 2004a). For an analysis of the situation at this time, see Fuller 2005b. The failure of Azerbaijan and Turkmenistan to agree on the demarcation of the respective sectors of the Caspian has effectively prevented exploitation of the oil field known in Turkmen as Serdar and in Azeri as Kyapaz, believed to contain 150–200 million tons of oil. Niyazov proposed to Aliev to ask international organizations to rule on whether development of Serdar/Kyapaz was permissible, which Aliev declined (Fuller 2005b). Turkmenistan threatened to take the issue to the United Nations. Putin expressed concern at ‘the tension that has arisen in the south Caspian Sea because of the recent incident involving Azerbaijani and Iranian ships’ (RFE/RL Newsline 3 August 2001). Aliev proposed to demilitarize the Caspian Sea to defuse the possibility of armed conflicts in the future (RFE/RL Newsline 31 August 2001). The Caspian Sea force would be similar to the Black Sea Naval Cooperation Task Force (BlackSeaFor) of the Black Sea littoral states. For an analysis, see Blagov 2005b. Izvestiya 15 October 2001, in an article ‘The Soviet Union Continues to Live with the Help of Pipelines’ argued precisely along these lines (RFE/RL Newsline 16 October 2001). An alternative underwater gas pipeline has been considered to the Iranian sea coastline, and an oil pipeline from Kazakhstan to Baku and from Turkmenistan to Afghanistan (via Pakistan), showing the intensity with which Caspian Sea littoral states are seeking alternative buyers and transit routes. Turkey has a veto on oil transit through the Bosporus and could in effect make the transit of more oil via Novorossiisk difficult for environmental reasons. Russia would save some US$500 million to US$700 million annually in transport costs (RFE/RL Caucasus Report 3 March 1998), In June, LUKoil decided to step up its involvement in Caspian oil projects by investing US$13 billion to develop various projects in the Caspian, tied to LUKoil’s investments of US$1.5 billion in Kazakhstan. Azerbaijan, Georgia and Turkey signed a security agreement in early 2002, one of the purposes of which was to protect the BTC (Torbakov 2002a). From Kazakhstan’s point of view, the BTC pipeline would be one of several oil outlets. In March 2001, when Kazakhstan revealed its plans to export its oil also via the BTC pipeline, Russia reacted negatively (RFE/RL Newsline 8 March 2001). In February 2004, Russia offered yet other alternative Russian routes on a long-term basis, but Nazarbaev declined the offer although admitting that Russia would remain ‘export route No. 1’ for Kazakhstan (RFE/RL Newsline 1 March 2004). The pipeline had sparked widespread opposition by environmental groups, and in October 2004 Georgia and BP agreed to allocate US$25 million for additional security measures to protect the BTC pipeline.

12 Russia and Kazakhstan 1 The Chechens considered Kazakhstan their ‘second homeland’ since their ancestors had been deported there by Stalin in 1944. 2 In July, an Izvestiya article reported that a group of journalists had spent three days travelling along what was supposed to be the border between Russia and Kazakhstan but failed to find the demarcation markers (RFE/RL Newsline 12 July 2001).

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3 The construction of 1 km of border with international standards costs about US$1 million (RFE/RL Newsline 3 March 2003). 4 As a postlude, in October 2006 the two countries signed an agreement on how to handle inhabitants in the border regions. 13 Russia and Kyrgyztan 1 In 1996, the Russian language was again recognized as an official language in areas where Russians lived. 2 In April 2000, Russia argued that there was a link between the fighting in Chechnya and the incursion of Islamic fighters into Kyrgyztan in 1999 and affirmed that Kyrgyztan as a ‘strategic partner’ would ‘immediately’ be assisted in the event of a new terrorist incursion (RFE/RL Newsline 13 April 2000). 3 In 2002, there was some discussion in Russia on the possible success of the new Russian ‘neo-imperialist’ strategy in Central Asia and on the obvious advantages Russia enjoyed in any competition with the USA or China in the region (Torbakov 2002e). 4 One was that Kyrgyz military pilots may be drawn into the operations at the base, another that Kyrgyz citizens could serve on a contract basis in the Russian army (RFE/RL Newsline 28 April 2003). 5 Previously, Kyrgyztan’s main foreign electricity customers included Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan and Tajikistan. 6 Kyrgyztan had had serious problems for several years with gas supplies from Uzbekistan which had regularly shut off deliveries because of payment problems. 7 Chubais estimated that the project would cost about US$2 billion. Work on KambarAta No. 1 and No. 2 began in the 1980s, but was only half finished (RFE/RL Newsline 23 August 2004). 8 Almost 30,000 Russians left Kyrgyztan in 1999 and 2000, a flow that constituted a real ‘brain drain’. 14 Russia and Tajikistan 1 For a more comprehensive history of the Russian–Tajik relations in the Yeltsin period, see Jonson 2004: 50ff. 2 There is a fairly large Tajik population in Afghanistan and Uzbekistan, which in itself has caused several conflicts (Jonson 2001: 110–111). 3 Peacekeeping forces from Uzbekistan, Kyrgyztan and Kazakhstan withdrew, and in June 2000 the CIS mandate changed (Jonson 2001: 107). For an analysis, see Parshin 2001. 4 Despite this, the number of Russian troops was cut from 16,000 in 1997 to 11,000 in 1999; see Jonson 2001: 108. 5 During a visit to the 201st Motorized Infantry Division base, Putin said that ‘[l]ately our special services, including the Defence Ministry, have reported a significant increase in activities and a rebuilding of Taliban structures, Al-Qaeda’s structures and so on’, and ‘[a]s a result, the efforts of the international coalition fighting the terrorist threat must be upgraded and stepped up. . . . A truly peaceful and stable Afghanistan is still a very long way away’ (RFE/RL Newsline 28 April 2003). 6 Twenty fighter planes and helicopters were to be deployed outside Dushanbe in 2005. The US reaction to the base was positive. The de jure status of a military base was gained in September 2005. For an analysis, see Arman 2004c. 7 Rusal’s total investments in Tajikistan over the next ten years would total US$1.5 billion. 8 In early 2000, an estimated 600,000 Tajiks went to Russia annually for seasonal employment, most of them illegally. By 2004, the estimated figure was 800,000, up to 90 per cent of whom were in Russia illegally.

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15 Russia and Uzbekistan 1 Igor Ivanov seemed sceptical about the implementation ‘in practice’ of those promises, though (RFE/RL Newsline 19 May 2000). 2 Sergeev explained that there were more than 5,000 warriors in the IMU (RFE/RL Newsline 28 August 2000). 3 Karimov complained that ‘more accent has been placed on “powerful” than on “equal” ’ in Russia’s relations with Uzbekistan and that ‘we want our relations to be built on an equal basis’ (RFE/RL Newsline 15 December 2000). 4 Igor Ivanov noted that Russia and Uzbekistan ‘share common fundamental approaches to the formation of a new world order based on civilized democratic standards’, to the struggle against international terrorism, and the reconstruction in Afghanistan (RFE/RL Newsline 10 January 2002). 5 In late August, Karimov explained that the EU needed to take stronger measures against Hizb ut-Tahrir: ‘Take London, for example, where Hizb ut-Tahrir has its headquarters ... and ... [p]arty members go about their business unimpeded, collecting money, hiring lawyers, and spreading their views’ (RFE/RL Newsline 27 August 2004). 6 Uzbekistan would supply five billion cubic metres in 2003 and ten billion cubic metres annually by 2005. The agreement also provided for cooperation on gas-transportation systems and the joint development of the Shakhpahty gas field. 16 Russia and Turkmenistan 1 Officials at the Russian Embassy in Ashgabat said that it would take years to process all outstanding applications for Russian passports (RFE/RL Newsline 18 April 2003). For an analysis of the deal, see Torbakov 2003b. 2 The differences in viewpoints of the two sides might be illustrated by the different Russian and Turkmen numbers of people with dual citizenship: Russia estimated them to be at least 100,000, while Turkmenistan admitted only 47 (RFE/RL Newsline 19 June 2003). 3 Another issue coloured the relationship in 2004, when Turkmenistan stopped recognizing foreign diplomas, which targeted the Russian-speaking population (RFE/RL Newsline 4 June 2004). State employees who had received their diplomas abroad would be dismissed. Russians in Turkmenistan appealed to Putin (RFE/RL Newsline 25 June 2004). 4 Initially the amount of gas that Russia would be able to purchase would be limited by an existing agreement to deliver certain quantities to Ukraine, but when that agreement expired in 2006, Russia would purchase 60–70 billion cubic metres per year, later to rise to 70–80 billion per year. 17 Central Asia, China, NATO and the United States 1 For example, an influential article said that ‘the involvement of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyztan, and Tajikistan in the operation against the Taliban will be determined in and by Moscow’, while Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan (who were not signatories to the Collective Security Treaty) could pursue a more independent course (Nezavisimaia Gazeta 18 September 2001). The media debate often centred on Russia’s right to influence in the region. In an influential article, it was claimed that ‘Washington [now] recognizes Russia’s right to a ‘natural dominance’ in the post-Soviet states’ (Nezavisimaia Gazeta 23 October 2001). According to yet another article in the same newspaper, the United States and Russia expanded their competition into Central Asia with US support of Uzbekistan and Russian support of Tajikistan (Nezavisimaia Gazeta 27 October 2001). For other influential articles, see Nezavisimaia Gazeta 11 October 2001, Nezavisimaia Gazeta 26 October 2001.

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2 The US National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice said that the USA had ‘no plans to squeeze Russia out’ of the region (RFE/RL Newsline 16 October 2001). 3 Central Asian presidents Nazarbaev, Akaev and Rakhmonov attended the NATO summit. While Akaev expressed his gratitude toward NATO forces for ensuring stability, Rakhmonov spoke about the ‘threat of drugs’ and instability in Afghanistan. For an analysis of the Russian responses, see Blagov 2004c. 4 NATO had provided help to Kyrgyztan in 1999 and 2000 when IMU militants invaded the country. 5 The United States had signed similar agreements with Kazakhstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. 6 In August, Tajikistan formally stated that the United States had not made any request to deploy military forces in Tajikistan (RFE/RL Newsline 18 August 2004). 7 There was an international exercise in the Ferghana Valley under the PfP programme in natural-disaster relief, the first exercise of its kind in Central Asia, where 1,000 Uzbek military and civilian rescue personnel participated along with some 200 colleagues from 20 foreign countries. 8 The US Secretary of State Colin Powell explained that the USA was willing to assist in the counter-terrorism efforts, since the IMU had been ‘the dominant threat [in Uzbekistan] in the past’ (RFE/RL Newsline 1 April 2004). For an analysis, see Cohen 2004. Later, in October, during a visit, NATO Secretary-General Jaap de Hoop Scheffer stressed the need to ‘focus efforts on defending and supporting institutions of democracy, basic freedoms, and legality in our countries’ because ‘terrorism finds a breeding ground where there is a lack of these principles’ (RFE/RL Newsline 21 October 2004). 9 The exercises took place on the Chinese coast with some 140 Russian naval vessels from the Russian Pacific Fleet in the first phase (in the Russian Far East Military District) and the second phase on the Shandong Peninsula and the Yellow Sea of China. 18 Conclusions 1 During a later television debate in October 2003, Chubais forcefully defended his thesis, asserting that ‘a combination of market economic practices and aggressive expansion should serve as the foundation for Russian foreign policy’. Without economic and political expansion, Russia would not be able to preserve its own territorial integrity and resources, and only by combining liberal values and a programme designed to re-establish its empire would Russia ‘occupy its natural place alongside the United States, the European Union and Japan, the place designated for it by history’ (Torbakov 2003d). 2 There are some exceptions, though, to this general pattern: one is related to the Baltic Sea Fleet and to Crimea, where Yeltsin did find some solution. The other is the Russo–Belarusian union, where Yeltsin seemed more passive than active. In Moldova, Transdniester was close to a de facto state and not really run by Russia. 3 Macfarlane (2003: 126–127) suggests that there are variations in terms of the degree of control sought by a hegemon, and to the actual mix of cooperation and coercion in its relationships with others. Since Russia has a ‘messianic understanding’ of its role, there is not really any question of ‘if’, but of ‘how’ it will proceed. 4 Lo argues that Putin has prioritized politico-military goals over economic priorities, a conclusion that might have been correct in the first Putin years but is somewhat less certain in 2006, in my view (Lo 2003a: 14). 5 My conclusions might serve as a follow-up to some conclusions found in the books written by Dov Lynch on Russian peacekeeping forces in the CIS, although the aspects are somewhat different (Lynch 2000, Lynch 2004). 6 There are basically three Russian foreign policy orientations relevant for how to handle the armed conflicts on CIS territory – that of ‘liberal westernist’ (which includes

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economic and political as well as military issues), ‘pragmatic nationalist’ (active involvement, including military force) and ‘fundamentalist nationalist’ (zero-sum unilateral force) (Jackson 2003: 6). 7 One could regard Russia’s CIS policies as ‘a microcosm’ of Russia’s more general foreign policy and ‘search for a new international role and policy in the modern postSoviet world’ (Jonson 2004: 171). 8 It is sometimes said that Russia’s only true ally in the twenty-first century is its vast energy resources (Torbakov 2003e). Russia today holds the largest gas reserves in the world, Russia has the eight largest oil reserves. Energy accounts for some 40 per cent of Russia’s total exports and 13 per cent of its GDP (Pamir 2004: 129). 9 In late 2005, Igor Ivanov in a quite telling statement ‘revealed’ what the ‘colour revolutions’ were really all about: ‘what we see are practical attempts to interfere in the political life of new independent states under the guise of advancing democratic values and freedoms, by putting pressures on authorities via protest processes’ (RFE/RL Newsline 30 November 2005). The ‘colour revolutions’ soon gave rise to demands that Russia should adapt price levels on energy exports according to the foreign policy of the recipient countries within the CIS (RFE/RL Newsline 5 August 2005).

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References 295 RFE/RL Newsline 14 September 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 20 September 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 21 September 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 22 September 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 23 September 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 24 September 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 27 September 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 30 September 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 1 October 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 4 October 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 8 October 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 12 October 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 13 October 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 19 October 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 21 October 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 2 November 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 3 November 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 4 November 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 5 November 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 8 November 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 10 November 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 16 November 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 22 November 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 23 November 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 24 November 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 29 November 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 1 December 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 7 December 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 8 December 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 13 December 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 15 December 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 16 December 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 17 December 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 23 December 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 28 December 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 30 December 2004. RFE/RL Newsline 4 January 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 5 January 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 10 January 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 12 January 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 13 January 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 20 January 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 21 January 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 24 January 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 25 January 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 27 January 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 28 January 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 31 January 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 8 February 2005.

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References 297 RFE/RL Newsline 22 August 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 24 August 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 25 August 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 29 August 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 2 September 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 6 September 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 8 September 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 14 September 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 26 September 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 30 September 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 6 October 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 7 October 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 11 October 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 12 October 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 14 October 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 21 October 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 24 October 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 25 October 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 27 October 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 3 November 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 7 November 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 9 November 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 10 November 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 14 November 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 18 November 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 28 November 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 29 November 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 30 November 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 1 December 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 5 December 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 8 December 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 9 December 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 19 December 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 29 December 2005. RFE/RL Newsline 4 January 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 9 January 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 10 January 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 13 January 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 17 January 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 18 January 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 24 January 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 25 January 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 26 January 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 27 January 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 31 January 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 1 February 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 3 February 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 6 February 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 7 February 2006.

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References 299 RFE/RL Newsline 25 August 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 2 September 2002. RFE/RL Newsline 5 September 2002. RFE/RL Newsline 7 September 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 15 September 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 18 September 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 19 September 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 20 September 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 25 September 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 26 September 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 27 September 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 29 September 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 2 October 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 3 October 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 4 October 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 6 October 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 10 October 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 16 October 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 19 October 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 25 October 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 27 October 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 30 October 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 3 November 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 8 November 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 27 November 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 30 November 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 1 December 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 2 December 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 6 December 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 13 December 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 18 December 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 21 December 2006. RFE/RL Newsline 27 December 2006.

Media sources on the internet Eurasia Insight can be reached at www.eurasianet.org/departments/insight/articles/ index.shtml. Moscow Times is a newspaper which also has internet access via www.themoscowtimes. com/indexes/01.html. Abbasov, S. (2005) ‘Azerbaijan: a road, if not a referendum, for Nagorno-Karabakh’ Eurasia Insight 17 August 2005. Abbasov, S. and Ismailova, Kh. (2006) ‘Azerbaijani hopes for peace dwindle with Karabakh disclosure’ Eurasia Insight 13 July 2006. Abdullaev, N. (2005) ‘Meddling raises stakes in Moldova’ Moscow Times 24 February 2005, p. 1. Abdullaev, N. (2006a) ‘Putin, Yushchenko defend gas deal’ Moscow Times 12 January 2006, p. 1.

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Abdullaev, N. (2006b) ‘Transdniester voters back union with Russia’ Moscow Times 19 September 2006, p. 1. Abdullaev, N. (2006c) ‘Russian officers return from Tbilisi’ Moscow Times 3 October 2006, p. 1. Abdullaev, Z. (2003) ‘Border troop controversy underscores Tajik–Russian tension’ Eurasia Insight 7 October 2003. Abdullaev, Z. (2004) ‘Tajikistan, Russia probe military partnership’ Eurasia Insight 4 March 2004. Alibekov, I. and Blagov, S. (2003) ‘New security organization could help expand Russia’s reach in Central Asia’ Eurasia Insight 29 April 2003. Alibekov, I. (2004) ‘Kazakhstan tilts toward Russia’ Eurasia Insight 18 February 2004. Alpeyrie, J. (2005) ‘Azerbaijan, Armenia probe for Nagorno-Karabakh peace while on war-footing’ Eurasia Insight 27 May 2005. Antidze, M. (2006) ‘Kodori Gorge under Georgian control’ Moscow Times 28 July 2006, p. 2. Areshidze, I. (2002a) ‘Chechen incursions prompt flare-up of Georgian–Russian tension’ Eurasia Insight 7 August 2002. Areshidze, I. (2002b) ‘Georgian parliament calls for Tbilisi’s withdrawal from CIS in response to Russian raid’ Eurasia Insight 27 August 2002. Areshidze, I. (2004) ‘Will Russian investment win Georgia’s heart?’ Moscow Times 11 May 2004, p. 8. Arman, K. (2004a) ‘Tajikistan shuns United States, tilts toward Russia’ Eurasia Insight 16 June 2004. Arman, K. (2004b) ‘US political position takes hit in Tajikistan’ Eurasia Insight 13 July 2004. Arman, K. (2004c) ‘Russia and Tajikistan: friends again’ Eurasia Insight 28 October 2004. Arnold, C. (2003) ‘Will anything change with clash in Georgia?’ Moscow Times 11 November 2003, p. 11. Arnold, C. (2004a) ‘It all comes down to how you define “Sea” ’ Moscow Times 6 April 2004, p. 4. Arnold, C. (2004b) ‘In Georgia, Ivanov’s the angel of political death’ Moscow Times 11 May 2004, p. 9. Arnold, C. (2004c) ‘South Ossetians feel a strong pull to the North’ Moscow Times 13 July 2004, p. 11. Asriyan, V. (2003) ‘An official Russian view on Georgia’s past and future’ Eurasia Insight 26 November 2003. Bagrov, Y. (2004) ‘Heavy fighting rages near South Ossetian capital’ Moscow Times 20 August 2004, p. 3. Baguirov, A. (2005) ‘No compromise in Karabakh’ Moscow Times 5 April 2005, p. 10. Baird, A. (2001) ‘New alliance brings United States, Uzbekistan into long-term embrace’ Eurasia Insight 18 October 2001. Bellaby, M. (2004) ‘Ivanov sees no hasty Georgia withdrawal’ Moscow Times 15 January 2004, p. 3. Bellaby, M. (2006a) ‘Black Sea fleet faces “fair market” prices’ Moscow Times 18 January 2006, p. 4. Bellaby, M. (2006b) ‘Ukrainians keep up anti-NATO protest’ Moscow Times 2 June 2006, p. 2. Bellaby, M. (2006c) ‘Battle brews over NATO in Crimea’ Moscow Times 7 June 2006, p. 4.

References 301 Belton, C. (2006a) ‘Rosukrenergo as winner in gas war’ Moscow Times 10 January 2006, p. 1. Belton, C. (2006b) ‘Gazprom on the march in Ukraine’ Moscow Times 7 February 2006, p. 1. Belton, C. (2006c) ‘Putin steps up Gazprom defence’ Moscow Times 28 April 2006, p. 1. Belton, C. (2006d) ‘Caspian Great Game back on’ Eurasia Insight 5 May 2006. Bendersky, Y. (2005) ‘Intelligence brief: Russia in the SCO’ Eurasia Insight 7 November 2005. Beridze, M. (2004) ‘Political tension rises between Georgian government and recalcitrant region of Ajaria’ Eurasia Insight 2 March 2004. Bigg, C. (2003) ‘Post-Soviet grouping unite’ Eurasia Insight 8 October 2005. Blagov, S. (2002a) ‘Russia probes to bolster its authority in Central Asia’ Eurasia Insight 27 March 2002. Blagov, S. (2002b) ‘Shanghai Cooperation Organization prepares for new role’ Eurasia Insight 29 April 2002. Blagov, S. (2002c) ‘Failure to forge closer CIS ties leaves Russia with difficult strategic options’ Eurasia Insight 16 May 2002. Blagov, S. (2002d) ‘SCO continues to search for operational framework’ Eurasia Insight 11 June 2002. Blagov, S. (2002e) ‘Ex-president, Caspian confusion cloud Russo–Azerbaijani relations’ Eurasia Insight 1 August 2002. Blagov, S. (2002f) ‘Moscow may seek international backing for Pankisi military operation’ Eurasia Insight 14 August 2002. Blagov, S. (2002g) ‘Moscow personally targets Shevardnadze amidst ongoing Georgian–Russian row’ Eurasia Insight 14 November 2002. Blagov, S. (2002h) ‘Russia seeking to strengthen regional organization to counterbalance Western influence’ Eurasia Insight 4 December 2002. Blagov, S. (2003a) ‘Military issues block Russia–Georgia détente’ Eurasia Insight 6 January 2003. Blagov, S. (2003b) ‘Kocharian’s Moscow visit underscores strengthening Armenian– Russian security cooperation’ Eurasia Insight 21 January 2003. Blagov, S. (2003c) ‘US–Georgian security cooperation agreement provokes outcry in Russia’ Eurasia Insight 16 April 2003. Blagov, S. (2003d) ‘Caspian states make progress on accord, but territorial differences remain’ Eurasia Insight 15 May 2003. Blagov, S. (2003e) ‘Armenia and Russia reasserts bonds amid Georgia’s crisis’ Eurasia Insight 17 November 2003. Blagov, S. (2003f) ‘Russia wary of Georgia’s regime change’ Eurasia Insight 26 November 2003. Blagov, S. (2004a) ‘Saakashvili “makes friends” with Putin during Georgian leader’s Moscow visit’ Eurasia Insight 12 February 2004. Blagov, S. (2004b) ‘Amid celebration in Batumi, Georgian authorities move to reassert authority in Ajaria’ Eurasia Insight 6 May 2004. Blagov, S. (2004c) ‘In Central Asia, Russia pushes back against NATO influence’ Eurasia Insight 2 July 2004. Blagov, S. (2004d) ‘Fresh crisis threatens peace in South Ossetia’ Eurasia Insight 8 July 2004. Blagov, S. (2004e) ‘Strong ties bind Russia and Armenia at Karabakh talks’ Eurasia Insight 14 September 2004.

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Blagov, S. (2004f) ‘Abkhazia crisis adds to Russia’s political headaches in the Caucasus’ Eurasia Insight 15 November 2004. Blagov, S. (2004g) ‘Presidential candidates strike deal in Abkhazia’ Eurasia Insight 6 December 2004. Blagov, S. (2005a) ‘Russian leaders mull geopolitical moves in 2005’ Eurasia Insight 4 January 2005. Blagov, S. (2005b) ‘Russia eyes stronger clout in Caspian region’ Eurasia Insight 15 July 2005. Blagov, S. (2005c) ‘The CIS: the end of the road?’ Eurasia Insight 29 August 2005. Blagov, S. (2005d) ‘Russia seeks to keep pressure on United States in Central Asia’ Eurasia Insight 25 October 2005. Blagov, S. (2006a) ‘Russia and Georgia spar over South Ossetia, Abkhazia’ Eurasia Insight 9 February 2006. Blagov, S. (2006b) ‘Russia bows to Turkmenistan’s gas pricing demand’ Eurasia Insight 6 September 2006. Blagov, S. (2006c) ‘South Ossetia referendum plans raises temperature in the Caucasus’ Eurasia Insight 18 September 2006. Blank, S. (2004a) ‘Threats to America’s position in Uzbekistan become clear’ Eurasia Insight 21 May 2004. Blank, S. (2004b) ‘Russia mulls measures to check Chinese influence in Central Asia’ Eurasia Insight 29 July 2004. Blank, S. (2005a) ‘Changes in the CIS: what to expect in 2005’ Eurasia Insight 5 January 2005. Blank, S. (2005b) ‘Kazakhstan’s foreign policy in time of turmoil’ Eurasia Insight 27 April 2005. Blank, S. (2005c) ‘Turkmenistan base rumour likely part of a Russian disinformation campaign’ Eurasia Insight 7 September 2005. Blank, S. (2005d) ‘Focus of Central Asia’s geopolitical contest set to shift to Kyrgyzstan’, Eurasia Insight 5 December 2005. Blank, S. (2006a) ‘The Shanghai Cooperation Organization: cracks behind the façade’ Eurasia Insight 21 June 2006. Blank, S. (2006b) ‘Bracing for conflict: Russia and Georgia in South Ossetia’ Eurasia Insight 26 September 2006. Blua, A. (2004) ‘Georgian leader gives ultimatum to Adjaria’ Eurasia Insight 3 May 2004. Blua, A. (2005) ‘Kyrgyzstan: Russia hopes to double troops at base, as future of US base in doubt’ Eurasia Insight 16 July 2005. Brand, C. (2005) ‘Saakashvili offers regional autonomy’ Moscow Times 27 January 2005, p. 4. Bukharbayeva, B. (2005) ‘Riots give way to tense standoff’ Moscow Times 23 March 2005, p. 1. Bullough, O. (2004) ‘Abkhaz rivals turn to Moscow’ Moscow Times 3 November 2004, p. 4. Carlson, C. (2003) ‘Uzbekistan: Karimov says improved relations with Russia not at expense of US ties’ Eurasia Insight 6 September 2003. Chkikvishvili, D. (2004) ‘Saakashvili warns he will use force’ Moscow Times 17 March 2004, p. 4. Cohen, A. (2001) ‘The US is developing a Russian and Eurasian strategy against Islamic terror’ Eurasia Insight 22 September 2001.

References 303 Cohen, A. (2004) ‘Bush administration backs Uzbek response to March militant attacks’ Eurasia Insight 14 April 2004. Cohen, A. (2005a) ‘Uzbekistan: a policy proving ground for Washington’ Eurasia Insight 31 May 2005. Cohen, A. (2005b) ‘Military maneuvers cement Chinese–Russian rapprochement’ Eurasia Insight 24 August 2005. Cohen, A. (2005c) ‘United States goes on geopolitical counter-offensive in Central Asia’ Eurasia Insight 21 October 2005. Cohen, A. (2006) ‘What to do about the Shanghai Cooperation Organization’s rising influence?’ Eurasia Insight 21 September 2006. Corso, M. (2005a) ‘Georgia, Russia renew base-withdrawal dispute’ Eurasia Insight 6 May 2005. Corso, M. (2005b) ‘Some in Georgia worry that the Russian base withdrawal deal comes with a catch’ Eurasia Insight 1 June 2005. Corso, M. (2005c) ‘CIS struggles for cohesion’ Eurasia Insight 6 June 2005. Corso, M. (2005d) ‘Georgia promotes South Ossetia peace plan’ Eurasia Insight 12 July 2005. Corso, M. (2006a) ‘Georgia pursues campaign against espionage’ Eurasia Insight 31 March 2006. Corso, M. (2006b) ‘Both Moscow and Tbilisi claim UN resolution a “victory” ’ Eurasia Insight 16 October 2006. Corso, M. and Devdariani, J. (2006) ‘Lavrov trip does little to ease Georgian–Russian tension’ Eurasia Insight 18 February 2006. Corso, M. and Jibladze, K. (2006) ‘Uneasy calm prevails in South Ossetia conflict zone’ Eurasia Insight 16 February 2006. Corwin, J. (2005) ‘Georgia: Tbilisi, Kyiv seek energy alliance with West’ Eurasia Insight 18 December 2005. Danielyan, E. (2002a) ‘Russia boosts alliance with Armenia as US gains foothold in Georgia’ Eurasia Insight 9 June 2002. Danielyan, E. (2002b) ‘Summit offers no quick fix for Karabakh conflict’ Eurasia Insight 19 August 2002. Danielyan, E. (2002c) ‘Westward foreign policy shift brings unease in Iran’ Eurasia Insight 5 October 2002. Danielyan, E. (2004) ‘Hopes fading in Yerevan for rapid progress on Karabakh settlement’ Eurasia Insight 27 February 2004. Danielyan, E. (2005a) ‘International mediators see new opportunity for Karabakh settlement’ Eurasia Insight 18 April 2005. Danielyan, E. (2005b) ‘Armenia, Azerbaijan appear to edge closer to Karabakh peace’ Eurasia Insight 20 May 2005. Danielyan, E. (2006a) ‘Armenia, Azerbaijan again fail to break Karabakh deadlock’ Eurasian Insight 8 June 2006. Danielyan, E. (2006b) ‘Russia tightens control over the Armenian energy sector’ Eurasian Insight 17 October 2006. Danilova, M. (2006) ‘A newspaper in Minsk goes out in envelopes’ Moscow Times 7 March 2006, p. 1. DeTemple, J. (2001) ‘Central Asian Rapid Reaction Force support gathered’ Eurasia Insight 3 May 2001. Devdariani, J. (2002a) ‘Fresh UN resolution fails to generate optimism’ Eurasia Insight 7 February 2002.

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Devdariani, J. (2002b) ‘US and Georgian officials move to next phase of military deployment’ Eurasia Insight 4 March 2002. Devdariani, J. (2002c) ‘Putin ultimatum raises stakes in Georgia’ Eurasia Insight 12 September 2002. Devdariani, J. (2003a) ‘US and Georgian officials move to next phase military deployment’ Eurasia Insight 4 March 2003. Devdariani, J. (2003b) ‘NATO interest in Caucasus security confirmed by Secretary General’s visit’ Eurasia Insight 19 May 2003. Devdariani, J. (2003c) ‘Rumors of terrorists prevail in Georgia’s Pankisi Gorge’ Eurasia Insight 29 May 2003. Devdariani, J. (2003d) ‘South Ossetia leader tightens control over breakaway Georgian province’ Eurasia Insight 11 June 2003. Devdariani, J. (2004a) ‘Georgian authorities plan Ajarian end-game’ Eurasia Insight 21 April 2004. Devdariani, J. (2004b) ‘Georgia keeps pressure on South Ossetia’ Eurasia Insight 7 June 2004. Devdariani, J. (2004c) ‘New peace process needed for South Ossetia’ Eurasia Insight 27 July 2004. Devdariani, J. (2004d) ‘Georgia’s government grapples with promoting the rule of law in Western provinces’ Eurasia Insight 18 October 2004. Devdariani, J. (2004e) ‘Expectations low for Georgia–South Ossetia talks’ Eurasia Insight 4 November 2004. Diamond, T. (2000) ‘Central Asian, Caucasus leaders heading home after busy UN summit’ Eurasia Insight 11 September 2000. Diamond, T. (2001a) ‘UN opens new drive to solve Abkhazia dilemmas’ Eurasia Insight 1 August 2001. Diamond, T. (2001b) ‘UN Secretary General reports on Abkhazia, as Georgia unravels’ Eurasia Insight 1 November 2001. Diloyan, M. (2000) ‘Armenia and Azerbaijan probe for breakthrough on Karabakh peace’ Eurasia Insight 9 August 2000. Dzhindzhikhashvili, M. (2003a) ‘Put President on trial: Tbilisi rally’ Moscow Times 6 November 2003, p. 4. Dzhindzhikhashvili, M. (2003b) ‘Shevardnadze goes to Adjaria’ Moscow Times 24 November 2003, p. 1. Dzhindzhikhashvili, M. (2003c) ‘He was seen as a Soviet-era holdover’ Moscow Times 24 November 2003, p. 1. Dzhindzhikashvili, M. (2004a) ‘Adzharia declares state of emergency’ Moscow Times 16 March 2004, p. 4. Dzhindzhikashvili, M. (2004b) ‘Tbilisi warns a defiant Adzharia’ Moscow Times 23 March 2004, p. 4. Dzhindzhikhashvili, M. (2004c) ‘South Ossetia detains peacekeepers’ Moscow Times 9 July 2004, p. 3. Dzhindzhikhashvili, M. (2004d) ‘Georgia: South Ossetia threat passed’ Moscow Times 13 July 2004, p. 3. Dzhindzhikhashvili, M. (2004e) ‘3 killed in South Ossetian fighting’ Moscow Times 13 August 2004, p. 3. Dzhindzhikhashvili, M. (2004f) ‘Georgian troops withdraw’ Moscow Times 23 August 2004, p. 3. Dzhindzhikhashvili, M. (2004g) ‘Opposition leading in Abkhaz vote’ Moscow Times 5 October 2004, p. 4.

References 305 Dzhindzhikhashvili, M. (2004h) ‘Bagapsh claims victory in Abkhazia’ Moscow Times 6 October 2004, p. 3. Dzhindzhikashvili, M. (2006a) ‘Georgia to quit CIS defence group’ Moscow Times 6 February 2006, p. 2. Dzhindzhikashvili, M. (2006b) ‘Georgia votes to oust peacekeepers’ Moscow Times 16 February 2006, p. 3. Dzhindzhikashvili, M. (2006c) ‘Tbilisi withdraw some troops from Gorge’ Moscow Times 31 July 2006, p. 3. Dzhindzhikhashvili, M. (2006d) ‘Russian troops on high alert’ Moscow Times 2 October 2006, p. 1. Feiser, J. (2003) ‘Finding a new Central Asian doctrine of lucid flexibility’ Eurasia Insight 15 July 2003. Felgenhauer, P. (2002) ‘Brinkmanship in Georgia’ Moscow Times 10 October 2002, p. 9. Felgenhauer, P. (2003) ‘From Tuzla to Great Russia’ Moscow Times 30 October 2003, p. 9. Felgenhauer, P. (2004a) ‘Motives in Georgia are base’ Moscow Times 13 January 2004, p. 11. Felgenhauer, P. (2004b) ‘Adzharia needs cool heads’ Moscow Times 16 March 2004, p. 11. Felgenhauer, P. (2004c) ‘Cutting the Ossetian knot’ Moscow Times 13 July 2004, p. 11. Freese, T. (2004) ‘Abkhazia: at war with itself’ Eurasia Insight 3 December 2004. Freese, T. (2005a) ‘Gori residents search for reasons behind recent car-bombing’ Eurasia Insight 4 February 2005. Freese, T. (2005b) ‘Tension again on the rise in South Ossetia’ Eurasia Insight 29 July 2005. Freese, T. (2005c) ‘A Georgian war on terrorism?’ Eurasia Insight 2 August 2005. Frolov, V. (2002) ‘Or just irrational exuberance’ Moscow Times 21 January 2002, p. 10. Fuller, L. (1998) ‘Berezovskii as Mr Fix-it’ End note RFE/RL Newsline 24 November 1998. Fuller, L. (2004) ‘NATO cancels planned maneuvers in Azerbaijan’ End note RFE/RL Newsline 14 September 2004. Fuller, L. (2005a) ‘Analysis: Council of Europe calls for talks between Azerbaijan, Karabakh leadership’ Eurasia Insight 26 January 2005. Fuller, L. (2005b) ‘Accord on Caspian legal status still hostage to rival claims’ End note RFE/RL Newsline 2 February 2005. Fuller, L. (2005c) ‘Nagorno-Karabakh: OSCE to unveil new peace plan’ Eurasia Insight 9 April 2005. Fuller, L. (2005d) ‘Ukraine aspires to leadership role in revitalized GUUAM’ End note RFE/RL Newsline 27 April 2005. Fuller, L. (2005e) ‘Bush gives Georgia half a loaf’ End note RFE/RL Newsline 10 May 2005. Fuller, L. (2005f) ‘Does Azerbaijan opposition have grounds to claim moral victory?’ End note RFE/RL Newsline 10 June 2005. Fuller, L. (2005g) ‘Death notices serve to revive moribund CIS’ End note RFE/RL Newsline 30 August 2005. Fuller, L. (2005h) ‘Azerbaijani leadership ignoring election pressure’ End note RFE/RL Newsline 30 June 2005. Fuller, L. (2005i) ‘Death notice serve to revive moribund CIS’ End note RFE/RL Newsline 30 August 2005.

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References 307 Herrman, B. (2004d) ‘Tajiks worry about border’ Moscow Times 30 June 2004, p. 4. Hill, F. (2001) ‘The changing face of Eurasia’ Eurasia Insight 20 August 2001. Huskey, E. (2005) ‘The next coloured revolution?’ Moscow Times 20 January 2005, p. 8. Hutzler, C. (2006) ‘Shanghai group to hold war games’ Eurasia Insight 27 April 2006. Iksyan, K. (2004) ‘Armenia in Russia’s embrace’ Moscow Times 24 March 2004, p. 10. Ingram, J. (2005a) ‘Lavrov tells Tbilisi that bases could go soon’ Moscow Times 26 April 2005, p. 3. Ingram, J. (2005b) ‘15,000 Azeris rally as pressure builds’ Moscow Times 10 November 2005, p. 1. Isachenkov, V. (2002) ‘Putin, 5 leaders failed to beef up security agreement’ Moscow Times 15 May 2002, p. 4. Isachenkov, V. (2004) ‘Putin threatens pre-emptive strikes’ Moscow Times 20 September 2004, p. 3. Isachenkov, V. (2005) ‘Putin praises clout of security group’ Moscow Times 27 October 2005, p. 3. Iskenderov, M. and Wall, T. (2001) ‘Caspian Sea disputes flare, raising doubts about oil and gas exploration’ Eurasia Insight 31 July 2001. Islamov, E. (2004a) ‘Fighting rages for third straight day in Uzbekistan’ Eurasia Insight 30 March 2004. Islamov, E. (2004b) ‘Uzbek events could prompt geopolitical shift’ Eurasia Insight 31 March 2004. Ismailzade, F. (2003) ‘Russia strives to boost political, military presence in Azerbaijan’ Eurasia Insight 3 March 2003. Ismailzade, F. (2006a) ‘Azerbaijanis see small chance for peace in Nagorno-Karabakh’ Eurasia Insight 13 February 2006. Ismailzade, F. (2006b) ‘Azerbaijan: slim chance for peace’ Eurasia Insight 16 March 2006. Ismayilov, R. (2006) ‘Azerbaijan ponders Russian Caspian defence initiative’ Eurasia Insight 1 February 2006. Kabulov, E. (2005) ‘Kyrgyz law-enforcement officials on high alert as parliamentary election nears’ Eurasia Insight 25 February 2005. Kaczmarski, M. (2006) ‘Russia creates a new security system to replace the CIS’ Eurasia Insight 11 January 2006. Kagarlitsky, B. (2004) ‘The Ukraine reality show’ Moscow Times 16 December 2004, p. 11. Kandelaki, G. (2003) ‘U2 spy flights over Georgia help raise US–Russian tension’ Eurasia Insight 27 March 2003. Karmanau, Y. (2006a) ‘Security agents beat up a Belarusian candidate’ Moscow Times 3 March 2006, p. 1. Karmanau, Y. (2006b) ‘Pressure on opposition mounts as election nears’ Moscow Times 16 March 2006, p. 3. Karmanau, Y. (2006c) ‘KGB chief calls protests terrorism’ Moscow Times 17 March 2006, p. 1. Karol, S. (2006) ‘Controls, subsidies, and cheap gas in Belarus’ End note RFE/RL Newsline 16 March 2006. Kasbarian, A. (2005) ‘Karabakh tension part of new great game’ Moscow Times 14 March 2005, p. 8. Katik, M. (2004) ‘Azerbaijan and Turkey coordinate Nagorno-Karabakh negotiation position’ Eurasia Insight 23 April 2004.

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Index

Abashidze, Aslan 121–3 Abkhazia: armed clashes 119, 133, 139; authorities 138, 141; constitution 136, 139–41, 158; Council of Elders 140; culture 142; diaspora 139; government 137–40; government crisis 138–9; independence 119; leadership 138; military forces 136, 223; para-military forces 223; parliament 139–40; population 134, 136, 228, 237, 246; president 122, 133, 139; presidential elections 138–42; referendum 120, 134; Russian troops in 120; separatists 133; status of 136, 141–2; supreme court 139; territorial waters 138; territory 133, 141; UN draft peace plan for 142 Abkhazians 119, 133–4, 137, 143, 223 Afghanistan 17, 19, 31, 33–5, 41–4, 126–7, 135, 152, 155–6, 162–4, 181–2, 188–94, 196–9, 202–3, 207–12, 223–4, 228–9, 234–5; military operation in 54, 159, 187, 207, 211; problematique 197; territory 208 Africa 20–1 Ajaria 103, 122–3, 131, 141, 144, 173 Akaev, Askar 182–7, 210 Akhalkalaki, southern Georgia 131–2 Aliev, Heidar 103, 105–9, 169 Aliev, Ilham 110, 111–12, 115, 155–6, 158 Alma Ata 175 alphabet: Arabic 2; Cyrillic 2; Latin 2, 110; Georgian 119; Turkish-style Latin 2 Al-Qaeda 127, 129–30, 177 Altai mountains 175 Altyn Asur (Sharg) 171 aluminium: Armenia 117; Tajikistan 189, 193; Ukraine 58 Amu-Darya 202

Amur river 15 Andijon, events in 165, 197, 199–201, 210, 212, 235, 247 Annan, Kofi 135–6, 138, 140, 142 Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty (ABM) 17, 33 anti-Islamism 162 anti-NATO: CST 32; Russia 18, 31; SCO 43 anti-terrorism 32, 41–2, 45, 163, 233, 235; activities 33, 43, 104, 164; campaign in Afghanistan 191, 211; centre 34, 42, 233; coalition in Afghanistan 35, 42, 198, 202, 210; cooperation 189, 235; front 54; function 31, 45; interests 36; military exercises in Armenia 115; military exercises in Kazakhstan 42, 210; military exercises in Uzbekistan 43, 235; struggle 121, 165, 198, 201, 233; system 42 apartment bombings 128 Arabs 110, 161, 188 Aral Lake 175 Araz-Sharq field 171 Arbitration Court in Stockholm 62 Archangelsk 14 Ardzinba, Vladislav 133, 139–40 armed clashes in: Abkhazia 119, 133, 139; Georgia 119–20; Kyrgyztan 182; Nagorno-Karabakh 105; South Ossetia 144, 146; Tajikistan 190; Transdniester 86 armed forces see military force; respective country Armenia: air defence 115, 234; Armenia Energy Network 118; Armenian–Azerbaijani conflict see Nagorno-Karabakh; Armenian–Iranian agreement, electricity grids and power

316

Index

Armenia continued stations 117; Armenian–Iranian gas pipeline 117; asset-for-debt 116–17, 243; assets 116–17, 244; defence system 155; demonstrations 105; economic problems 116–17; electricity distribution 117, 150; electricity production 244; energy debt 243; energy sector 116, 150, 223–4; foreign minister 107–9; government 118; human rights 155, 158; nationalists 105; national security 115; population 114; president 103, 105–9, 115; presidential elections 109; strategic assets 116; UES in Armenia 116–18, 244; see also European Union; Kocharian; NATO; United States Armenians 105, 114 arms industry, Russian 18 army groups: Russia–Armenian 32, 36; Russia–Belarusian 32; Russia–Kazakh–Kyrgyz 32 Ashgabat 169, 203 Asian great power complex 11 Asia-Pacific region 20, 213 assassination attempt: Nyazov 202–3, Shevardnadze 131 asset-for-debt agreement: Armenia 116, 118, 243–4; Georgia 243–4; Kyrgyztan 243–4; Moldova 96, 243; Tajikistan 243–4 Astana 39–40, 43, 175–6, 179 Atyrau–Samara pipeline 167, 178 Azerbaijan: anti-Chechen measures 111; authorities 111, 113; Azeri–Chinag–Gunashli gas field 172; demonstrations 113, 156; election laws 156; elections 113, 156, 158, 247; foreign minister 107–9; president see Aliev; presidential elections 109; territory 105, 107–8, 111; see also Caspian Sea; NATO; US Azeris 105, 108, 110, 112, 114 Bagapsh, Sergey 139–40, 142 Baikonur cosmodrome, Baikonur space centre 180 Bakiev, Kurmanbek 185–7 Baku 112, 155–6, 173, 243; Declaration 112 Baltic Sea 15, 65, 172, 240 Baltic states 11, 14–15, 17, 19, 32, 47–8, 78, 226–7, 234 bargaining chip, Putin’s 100, 129, 236 barter, barter trade 61, 205 Basaev, Shamil 125, 207

Basic Directions of Foreign Policy, Russia 1993 24 Batumi (Ajaria) 14, 122, 131–2 behaviour: foreign policy 3–5; geo-economic 4; Great Power-like 6; guiding instruments for 21; non-verbalized 7; Soviet 6; Tsarist 6; verbal 4; see also Russia: behaviour Beijing 42, 208 Belarus: air defence 32, 66–8, 75; Belarus Democracy Act (US Congress); constitution 67, 69, 72, 74; demonstrations 79–80; economy 67, 71, 77, 80, 221; election campaign 79; energy issues 76–9; gas pipeline company 241; government 71, 77; KGB 79–80; language 66; leadership 229; military and defence cooperation 74–5, 81; nationalism 66; opposition 67–8, 70–1, 79–80; parliament 70–3; people 71, 73, 77–8; presidential elections 67–70, 72, 75, 79–80, 247; referendum 66–8, 70, 72–4, 79; state economy 67; tyranny 63 Belarus–Ukrainian Union 74 Belavezh accords 24 Beltranshaz 77–8 Berezovsky, Boris 26, 37 Beslan school tragedy 104, 111, 113, 130 Bessarabia 14, 82 Big Four (Russia, Belarus, Ukraine, Kazakhstan) 37–9, 41, 45; president of 37–9 bilateral agreements: Armenia 115, 117; Azerbaijan–Iran 168; Azerbaijan–Turkmenistan 168; Caspian Sea 167, 169; Georgia 129; Georgia–US 157; Kyrgyztan 183, 186; Kyrgyztan–China 214; Tajikistan 189, 193 bilateral cooperation agreement 20, 40 bilateral (inter-state) relations 5, 12, 22–3, 31, 37, 40, 44–5, 49, 51, 53–4, 74, 102, 109, 111, 113, 120–1, 130, 198, 209, 217, 220, 226, 232–3, 235, 248 bilateralize 24 bin Laden, Osama 126, 190 Bishkek 34–5, 42–3, 182, 185, 187 Black Sea 13–15, 49, 82, 125, 133, 143, 171, 173, 204, 224, 230, 234, 236, 239, 242; Black Sea Fleet 47, 49–51, 57, 64, 221; coast 14, 111, 119, 172–3, 176; naval base in Crimea 53, 55; region 14, 173–4

Index 317 Bloody Friday see Andijon Blue Stream see oil pipeline bombing: Abkhazia 139; Georgia 128, 135, 149; Serbia 17; Tajikistan 191; Transdniester 98; Uzbekistan 197, 199 border: Abkhazia–Georgia proper 133–4, 136, 138, 140; Abkhazia–Russia 142–3; Afghanistan–Tajikistan 35, 190–3, 224; Armenia–Iran 115, 234; Azerbaijan–Armenia 102, 105, 108, 118; Azerbaijan–Georgia 104, 110; border models (Trenin) 101; Caspian Sea 167; Caucasus 101; Central Asia 41, 162; CIS 24, 32; defence 12, 66; disputes 9; external, of Central Asian countries 17; facilities 179; Georgia–Chechnya 120, 125, 127, 129–31, 152, 223, 236; Georgia proper–South Ossetia 144–8; Georgia–Turkey, Ajaria 24, 122; Kazakhstan 175, 179; Moldova–Ukraine 82, 97–8; patrols, Georgia–Chechnya 129; problematique, Russia and Georgia 143; protection agreement, Russia–Georgia 130; Russia 12, 20, 230; Russia’s European 12, 15; Russia–Georgia 119, 125–7, 130; Tajikistan–China 192; Uzbekistan–Kazakhstan 196; Uzbekistan–Kyrgyztan 190, 197; Uzbekistan–Turkmenistan 204; violations, Georgia 130 border agreements: Central Asia–China 41; China–Kazakhstan 213 border checkpoints: Kazakhstan 176; Transdniester border with Ukraine 97–8 border conflict: Central Asia 162; Tajikistan–Uzbekistan 182; Ukraine 56–7 border controls: Moldova–Ukraine 98; Russia–Azerbaijan 111; Russia–Belarus 66, 68; Russia–Georgia 56; Tajikistan 164, 211; Ukraine 56 border cooperation: Azerbaijan–Turkmenistan 202; Azerbaijan–Russia 112 border crossing: Moldova–Ukraine 98; Russia–Georgia 117–18; Russia–Kazakhstan 40 border delimitation: Caspian Sea 167, 169–70; Russia–Kazakhstan 179; Russia–Ukraine 50, 56–7, 64 border delimitation agreement: Kazakhstan 179; Russia–Ukraine 56

border demarcation: Kazakhstan 179; Russia–Ukraine 56, 64 border guards: CIS 8; Georgia 130, 136, 138; Kyrgyztan 183, 234–5; Moldova 83; Russian in Tajikistan 190–5; Soviet 24; Tajikistan 188; Ukraine 56–7 border issue: Kazakhstan 179; Moldova 97; Ukraine 53–4, 57–8 border security: CIS 32, 34; Georgia 130; Kazakhstan 179; Tajikistan 211 border talks: Russia–Tajikistan 192; Russia–Ukraine 57 border troops: Georgia 24, 157; Kyrgyztan 35; Russia–Central Asia 162; Russian in Tajikistan 163, 189, 192, 235 Bosporus 14 Britain 209, 230 British arms manufacturer 210 Brussels 54, 56, 93, 156 BTC see oil pipeline Baku–Tbilisi–Ceyhan (BTC) BTE see gas pipeline Baku–Tbilisi–Erzurum (BTE) Budapest 109 buffer 15, 47, 101, 232; state 67; zone 16, 119 Bugajski, J. 32, 38, 44, 46, 59, 65, 83, 230, 237, 239, 246, 250 Bukhara 161, 188; khanate 14, 161, 188, 196 Bulgars 13; Bulgar state 82 Burdjanadze, Nino 121–3 bureaucratic administration 26; entities 4; inertia 26; politics 4 Bush, George W. 18, 52–3, 106, 124, 127, 129, 132, 156, 207–8, 210 business elites 58; forum 124, 151 Buzan, B. 3, 9–12, 16, 22, 153, 162 Byzantines 13 CACO see Central Asian Cooperation Organization capital, Russian 51, 58; in Belarus 67, 79–80, 221, 224, 227, 239; in Ukraine 65 capitals: Alma Ata 175; Astana 175; Batumi 122; Bukhara 161; Kazan 13; Kiev 13; Moscow 13; Samarkand 161; St Petersburg 14; Tbilisi 119; Tskhinvali 146, 149 capitalism, Russian 225, 238 Caspian: ‘Antiterror 2005’ exercise 201; Caspian basin 239; Caspian Pipeline Consortium (CPC) 167; CPC pipeline

318

Index

Caspian continued 167, 173; hydrocarbon resources 168–9, 222, 241; oil fields 169, 171–3, 175; regional security and peacekeeping force 171 Caspian Sea 13–14, 19, 101, 102, 110–11, 113–14, 152, 156, 165, 167–76, 178, 181, 202, 222, 234, 243; area 172, 242; border delimitation 169; Caspian Sea Consortium 178; exporters 243; fields 242; joint naval exercises 112; littoral states 167; problematique 233; region 167–9, 171–2, 224, 230; seabed 168–71, 224; sectors 167, 169; states 169–72; status of 168, 170 Catherine the Great 14 Caucasus: 31, 174; Caucasus–Caspian Sea–Black Sea sub-complex 101; Caucasus Four 103; mosaic 101; region 19, 174; sub-complex 23, 172; see also South Caucasus CCCBMA see Conference on Cooperation and Confidence-Building Measures in Asia cease-fire: Abkhazia 133; Nagorno-Karabakh 105, 107; Tajikistan 189 cease-fire agreement: Abkhazia 120, 133–4, 141; South Ossetia 147; Tajikistan 188 cease-fire violations: Nagorno-Karabakh 109; South Ossetia 147 Central America 21 Central Asia 12, 14, 18–19, 27, 31, 33–6, 41, 43, 45, 161–5, 173–4, 177, 179, 182–4, 186, 188–92, 194, 197–9, 207–13, 215, 224–5, 228–30, 232–5, 242–3, 245–6, 248–9 Central Asian: airfields 207; authoritarian regimes 165; autonomous republic of Turkestan 202; Central Asian Cooperation Organization (CACO) 43–4; ethnicities 202; governments 209; leaders 208; presidents 164; region 8, 19, 35, 43, 161, 164, 174, 197; regional sub-complex 17, 22, 23, 162–3, 172, 207, 215, 217, 229–30; republics 15; states 17, 162–5, 175, 196–8, 205, 207–9, 229, 233, 246, 249; Union 26 Central Election Commission (CEC): Abkhazia 139; Georgia 121; Ukraine 63 Central Europe 60 Ceyhan 173 CFE treaty 91, 93

Charles XII of Sweden 14 Chechnya: Chechen–Georgian border 120, 125, 127–8; incursions 127; militants 12, 99, 111, 121, 125–31, 128–9, 134–6, 152, 223, 236; population 120, 125; refugees 111, 125–6, 130, 176; terrorism 126 Chernomyrdin, Viktor 31, 51–2, 60, 68, 239 China: base, Kyrgyztan 184; energy needs 213; investments in Kyrgyztan 214; security development 214; state visit (Kazakhstan) 213 Chinese relations with: Kazakhstan 213–14; Kyrgyztan 214; Turkmenistan 214; Uzbekistan 214 Chisinau 85, 87–90, 92–6 Chubais, Anatoly 7, 112, 151, 185, 193, 225 CIS see Commonwealth of Independent States citizens: Belarus 72; CIS 25, 40, 181; Kazakhstan 179; Kyrgyztan 182, 186; Russia 9, 27, 33, 66, 72, 147, 186, 203–4, 245–7; Tajikistan 184, 195; Transdniester 87–8; Ukraine 49, 57; United States 210; Uzbekistan 196 citizenship, dual 25, 203–4, 246; Russia 25, 123, 141, 143, 145, 186, 246–7; Transdniester 88–9; Turkmenistan 203–4 civil war: Abkhazia 17, 119–20, 125, 133, 137, 223; Georgia 17, 122–3; Kyrgyztan 187; Moldova (Transdniester) 17; Nagorno-Karabakh 105; Russia 14–15, 202; South Ossetia 17, 144; Tajikistan 161, 188–9, 235; Uzbekistan 197; see also war Clinton, Bill 66; Clinton administration 163 Cold War 9, 233 Collective Security Treaty, Collective Security Treaty Organization 22, 24, 31–4, 45, 66, 120, 197, 230, 233 colour revolutions 27, 30, 64, 80–1, 113, 165, 180, 187, 194, 222, 247; see also Georgia; Ukraine commercialization: of Russian foreign policy 5 customs union 37–8, 40–1, 238 common security 177 Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS): air defence system 31–2, 36, 68, 209–10, 234; ambassadors 37; anti-aircraft system 209; anti-terrorist

Index 319 centre 42; apparatus 26; borders 34; citizenship 9, 25; coherence of 27; common economic space 37–8, 40, 71, 179, 238; common educational space 29; customs union 37–8, 40–1, 238; defence cooperation 31–2, 36, 51, 55, 67; election monitors 180; framework agreement 37; free-trade zone see free-trade zone; heads of state 25, 207, 219; integration efforts 29, 232; Joint Military Command 31; membership in 27; military forces 24, 31, 234; observers 171, 187, 194; peacekeeping forces 44, 134; peacekeeping function 133; population 10; presidential elections 247; summit 25–6, 28–9, 31, 34–5, 37–9, 41, 74–5, 89, 103, 107, 118, 198, 204; territory of 4, 33, 245; visa-free regime 202 Conference on Cooperation and Confidence-Building Measures in Asia (CCCBMA) 43 confidence-building measures: Abkhazia 136, 142, 149; South Ossetia 142, 149 conflict: border 56; cultural 17; ethnic 25, 105; frozen 5, 23, 27, 101, 120, 142, 223–4, 231–2, 236–7, 246; local 7; low-intensity 123; regional 9, 101, 103–4; separatist 125, 143, 218; social 17 Constantinople 13 constitution: Abkhazian 136, 139–40; Azerbaijan 110, 112; Belarusian 72; economic, of Big Four 39; Georgian 133, 136; Kyrgyz 186; Moldovan 83, 88–9; Nagorno-Karabakh 109; Russian 69, 72; Transdniester 86; Ukrainian 50 Constitutional Act, Russia–Belarus Union 70–1, 73–4 cooperation: anti-terrorism 189, 235; bilateral 20, 40, 176, 183; border 112, 202, 233; border control 211; CST 36, 45; cultural 39; defence 5, 31–2, 36, 51, 55, 67, 74–5, 81, 115, 118, 177, 189, 201, 221, 227, 233–4; economic 5, 24–5, 37, 39, 43, 54, 58, 65, 103, 112, 116, 120, 183, 214, 225, 232; energy 65, 117, 178, 197, 213; Georgian–US 121; intraregional 158; military 48, 54, 64, 68, 74, 81, 84, 111–12, 115–16, 118, 123, 156, 177, 183, 190–1, 197–8, 209, 214, 235; military–technical 177, 198, 234; military technology 67; oil and gas extraction 243; regional 107; security

24, 32, 42, 118, 183, 203, 211, 213; transportation 143; US–Russian 52, 208 Copenhagen criteria 59 Cossacks 13, 15, 49 Council of Europe 67, 99, 108, 113, 121, 158, 247 counterterrorism: campaign 164; military exercises, Tajikistan/China 177, 200, 214; policies 32 counterterrorism effort: Kazakhstan 211; Uzbekistan 198 crime: organized 42, 125, 171, 213, 236–7; prevention 233; threats 12 Crimea 14, 50, 53, 56, 236, 246 Crimean khanate 49 CST see Collective Security Treaty CSTO see Collective Security Treaty Organization Cuba 79 culture 9, 27, 49, 82–3, 142, 225, 245 customs: blockade, Transdniester 87; controls, Transdniester 91; duties 37; issues 28, 97; policy 71; procedures, Transdniester 95–6, 98; seals, Moldova 98; union, CIS 37–8, 40–1, 238 Cyrillic alphabet 110, 180 Dagestan 101–2, 110, 119, 130, 163, 172 Dardanelles 14 debt forgiveness, Kyrgyztan 185 debt relief, Kyrgyztan 185 debt-restructuring agreement, Moldova 241 declaration: on cooperation in the twenty-first century (Armenia) 114–15; on eternal friendship (Kyrgyztan) 183; on eternal friendship and alliance (Kazakhstan) 176; of independence 82; on Moldova’s European integration 99 de facto state 236 defence: agreements 177; alliance 233; border 12, 66; capabilities 222; capacities 50; concept 69; cooperation 31–2, 36, 51, 55, 117–18, 123, 221, 227, 233–4; enterprises, Kazkahstan 177; facilities, Kazakhstan 176; forces 32, 74–5; integration 30–2, 81; minister 26, 31, 34, 75, 86, 127, 130, 132, 139, 146–7, 150, 207, 214; minister talks, Armenian–Azeri 109; Ministry 150, 209; organization 31–2, 233; planners 33; policy 55, 68; production facilities, Kazakhstan 234; relations 31; sector 75; system 32, 6, 155, 177, 209–10; union 25

320

Index

defence cooperation: Belarus 67, 74–5, 81; Kazkahstan 177; Tajikistan 189; Uzbekistan 201 de-imperialization process 16 de jure states 236 delimitation, demarcation see border demilitarization: Abkhazia 142; Caspian Sea 171; South Ossetia 146, 148–50 democracy: Belarus 76, 79; electoral 222, 247; managed 64; norms 64, 80; sovereign 247 democratization 20, 81, 230 Dgengiz Khan 196 dictatorship: Belarus 67, 79 disarmament: South Ossetia 149 Dnieper 13 Dniester (Transdniester) 14, 227 Dniester river 82 doctrine: defence doctrine, Ukraine 55; multipolarity doctrine 51; NATO strategic doctrine 33, 50 doctrine, military: Kazakhstan 210; military reform doctrine, Russia 33; Russia 74, 130, 177; Russia–Belarus Union 74 domino theory: Central Asia 189 drugs 192, 194; business 213; trafficking 40, 42–4, 87, 171 Dubrovka Theatre 102 Duma, Russian State 26, 68, 70, 83, 87, 145, 151, 204; elections 70, 72 Dushanbe 189, 191 East, the (Asia) 12 eastern Europe 21, 161 Eastern Turkestan Islamic Movement 165 economic: alliance 38; assistance, Armenia 241; blockade, Transdniester 87–90; competition 229; development 128; dimension 18, 28, 164; imperialism 58, 65; integration 25, 30, 39, 45, 74, 80, 220–1, 232, 238, 245; interaction 21; interests 12, 50, 65, 71; monopolization 230; prosperity 238; reform 83, 158; re-integration 6; safety 248; sanctions, Transdniester 100; sector 37, 67; union 46 economic cooperation: Armenia 116–17; Azerbaijan 112; CIS 24–5, 37, 39; Georgia 120, 150–1; Kazakhstan 177–8; Kyrgyztan 183–5; SCO 43; Tajikistan 193; Turkmenistan 204–5; Ukraine 58–9; Uzbekistan 200 economic dependence: 48, Belarus 67, 76,

248; Kyrgyztan 187, 249; Tajikistan 189, 249; Ukraine 51, 59 econmic relations: Armenia 222; Azerbaijan 118; Belarus 66, 238; Central Asia 162; Kyrgyztan 185; Ukraine 55, 58, 221; Uzbekistan 200 economization: economized agenda, Belarus 75; economized relations, Belarus 221; of politics 5, 21, 80, 118, 238 EEC see Eurasian Economic Community elections see respective country election campaign: Belarus 79; Ukraine 62 election norms 62, 79, 113, 222, 246–7 electoral democracy: Belarus 222 electricity: Armenia 116–17, 150, 244; Georgia 150–1, 244; Kazakhstan to China 214; Kyrgyztan 185, 244; Moldova 95–6, 243; production and grids 8, 50; Tajikistan 189 193 emigration: Transdniester 83; Kyrgyztan 186 empire: Habsburg 15; liberal 7, 45, 151, 225; Mongol 13, 161; Ottoman 82; regional 12; Russian 7, 229, 249; Soviet 19, 47, 249–50; Tsarist 4, 7–8; Turkish 161 energy: agreement, Turkmenistan 205; distribution networks 117, 150–1, 178, 220–1, 244–5; energy ministers 61; export 40, 225, 239–41; imperialism 245; imports, Moldova 83, 96; infrastructure, Belarus 60; pricing, Georgia 151; security, Armenia 118, 223; supplier, Moldova 97; supplies 122, 241; transit, Uzbekistan 201, 225 energy cooperation: Armenia 117; Kazakhstan 178; Ukraine 65; Uzbekistan 197 energy debt 241; Armenia 243; Kyrgyztan 244; Moldova 97 energy deliveries: Georgia 241; Kyrgyztan 244; Ukraine 65 energy dependence 25, 220, 242, 245; Armenia 118; Belarus 76; Georgia 152, 242; Ukraine 59, 64 energy issues: Armenia 115–18; Belarus 76–9; Georgia 150–2; Kyrgyztan 184–5; Moldova 96–8; Tajikistan 193; Turkmenistan 204–6; Ukraine 59–62; Uzbekistan 200 energy politics: Turkmenistan 205; Ukraine 54 energy production 118, 178, 181, 220, 238, 242, 244

Index 321 energy relations: Turkmenistan 243; Ukraine 239 energy resources: Armenia 117; Azerbaijan; Kazkahstan 44, 181; Kyrgyztan 44; Tajikistan 44; Turkmenistan 206; Uzbekistan 44 energy sector: Armenia 116; Belarus 67; Georgia 150, 152; Kazkahstan 181; Kyrgyztan 185; Tajikistan 195, 224; Turkmenistan 206 ENP see European Neighbourhood Policy Erevan 14, 117 Estonia 14 ethnic: Abkhazians 119; Chechens 125; cleansing, Abkhazia 141, 223; conflicts 25; groups 84, 175, 237; Georgians 119–20, 144; identity 162, 237; Kyrgyz 186; minority 186; Russians 12, 33, 66, 186, 203–4, 246; violent conflicts 105 Eurasia/Eurasian 3, 30, 113, 151, 225, 250; Eurasia Insight 23; Eurasian Economic Community 22, 37–8, 179; Eurasian Union 30; Eurasianism 249; geographical space 232; governments of 40; sentiments, in Russia 249 Euro-Atlantic: integration 20; security structures 55 Europe 10, 12, 14, 17–18, 20–1, 40, 47–9, 51, 53, 57, 60–3, 67–8, 75–6, 79, 85, 99, 159, 192, 194, 201, 213, 224, 226–7, 230, 233, 239–40, 245, 248 European: complex 11; continent 19; Europeans 227; integration 27–8, 99; markets 39; Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) 27, 50, 113, 158–9; Parliament 53, 106; powers 14; structures 17, 21, 99, 233; Security Charter 91–2; security subcomplex see security sub-complex; Union 11, 18, 26–7, 29, 37, 44, 59–60, 63, 72, 79, 91, 99, 158, 228, 230, 232; wars 14 expansion: eastward 13; EU 79; geographical 12; heartland 15; imperial 14; NATO 18, 33, 54, 56, 67, 79; Russian 14–15; southward 15; territorial 13–16; Western 226; westward 15–16 export: of democracy 215 external: actors 23, 158, 207, 215, 224, 227, 231; aggression 34–5; enemies 16, 124; forces 158; penetration 10, 228, 231; powers 3, 10–11, 217, 224–5, 230, 233, 248; security provider 228; threats 32 externalities: security 12 extradition 111, 126, 191, 203 extremism 33–4, 42–3, 94, 163, 190,

213–14, 229; anti-extremism 180, 232; Islamic 19, 198; regional 34; religious 34, 42, 44 Far East 12, 21, 213 Federal Assembly, Federation Council, Russian 29, 145 Federal Security Service (FSB) 4, 130, 139, 198 federalization: Georgia 141–2, 224, 237; Moldova 87–90, 100, 222, 237 Ferghana Valley 17, 161–2, 165, 182, 188, 196–7 ferry line, ferry traffic: Abkhazia 138; Azerbaijan 176; Georgia 118; Turkmenistan 203 Finland 14–15 First World War 14–15, 110, 114 food export: Moldova 83 foreign minister see respective country foreign policy: activity 22; architect 6, 230; behaviour 2, 4, 5; changes 19, 22; declared 4; directions 20, 23; executor 6–7; Gaullist 19; history 17; ideas 5; influence 230; instruments 7–9, 25, 94, 217, 226, 231, 233, 242; non-verbal 5, 7, 22; objectives 20; pragmatic 51, 65; presidential 6; principles 20–1; pro-Western 19, 26, 53, 247; Putin’s 2, 4–9, 19–22, 58, 75, 217–18, 225–6, 229, 245, 248–9; reformulation of 6; Soviet 21; strategy 1, 3, 5; vectors 20, 225; verbal, verbalized 4–5, 7, 19, 22–3, 30, 114, 126 foreign policy arenas: geo-economic 5; geo-political 5; politico-cultural 5, 23, 100, 217–18, 225, 231, 245–7; politico-economic 5, 23, 100, 217, 225, 232, 238; politico-military 5, 23, 100, 113, 217, 225, 231–2 Foreign Policy Concept: April 1993 19, 226; June 2000 19–20, 29, 55, 74, 226 framework agreement CIS 37 framework treaty, Georgia 120–4, 132 Fradkov, Mikhail 4, 59, 61, 78, 151, 213 France 18, 21, 39, 49, 105 free-trade (zone) agreement 25, 28, 37–9, 58, 73–4 Friendship Agreement, Moldova 84 Friendship and Cooperation Treaty: with Armenia 114; with Azerbaijan 110, 112; with Kyrgyztan 214; Kyrgyztan and China 24; with Turkmenistan 203; with Ukraine 50, 55–6

322

Index

Friends of the UN Secretary-General for Georgia 137–8 FSB see Federal Security Service fundamentalism see Islamic fundamentalism fur trade 13, 15 Gabala radar facility, Azerbaijan 112 Gali district 137–8, 141–2 Gamsakhurdia, Zviad 119, 125, 133 gas: cartel (Russia, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan) 205; distribution facilities 221; export 60–1, 178, 205, 213, 243; production facilities 171–2, 193, 220, 234; resources 19, 102, 110, 172, 183, 206, 214, 224, 244; thefts, Ukraine 62; see also pipeline gas agreement: Turkmenistan 203–5; Ukraine 60–2; Uzbekistan 243 gas debt: Moldova 96, 243; Transdniester 93; Ukraine 59, 227 gas delivery: Belarus 76–8, 239; Georgia 151; Moldova 92, 96, 243; Turkmenistan 203, 205; Ukraine 59–60, 62, 64, 239–40 gas fields: Azerbaijan 172; Kazkahstan 178; Kyrgyztan 185; Tajikistan 193; Uzbekistan 214 gas pipeline: Armenia 117, 151, 241; Baku–Tbilisi–Erzurum (BTE) (or South Caucasus) 172, 244; Belarus 79, 240–1; Black Sea 173; Caspian Sea 171–2, 243; Georgia 117, 151–2, 244; Iran 117, 166; Kyrgyztan 185; Moldova 86, 97, 243; Trans-Caspian 172; Turkmenistan 166; Turkmenistan–China 214; Ukraine 60 gas pricing: Armenia 117–18; Belarus 77–9, 241; Georgia 151–2, 242; Moldova 86, 96–7; Turkmenistan 205; Ukraine 53, 61, 240 gas supply: Armenia 244; Belarus 77; Georgia 150; Moldova 96; Turkmenistan 205, 243; Uzbekistan 200 gas transit: agreement 243; Belarus 77–9; dependency 59, 172, 239–40, 243; gas transport consortium, Ukraine 60; transportation routes 51, 102, 172–4, 206, 238–9, 242–3; Ukraine 61, 239–40 gas war: Belarus 78–9, 240; Moldova 97; Ukraine 61–2, 240 Gaugaz 13, 82–3 Gazprom 60–2, 76–9, 86, 92, 96–7, 117, 150–2, 167, 178, 185, 193, 200, 203–5, 240–5

Gelaev, Ruslan 130, 135–6 Geneva 106, 137, 142; Geneva talks 142 geo-economic arena 5; competition 174; conflict 224; goal 3–4; interests 65; objective 245; projects 225; strategies 4; thinking 4 geo-economics 166 geo-economists 249 geography 9–10, 16, 66, 242 geo-political arena 5; competition 174; considerations 81; dominance 151; fronts 12; game 55; goals 4–5; interests 19, 65; motives 5; objective 16; player 27; reasons 50; space 30; strategies 4; thinking 3–4, 173 Georgia: abductions 136, 149; air bombings 128, 135, 149; air intrusions 124–5, 127–8, 135, 223, 236; air transport blockade 124; armed clashes 119–20; armed groups 122, 146; armed violence 149, 224; business 124–5, 151–2; coast guard 138; constitution 121, 133, 136, 139–41; debt 151; defence minister 130, 132, 146–7, 150; demonstrations 121, 123; economy 151; energy dependence 152; energy market 244; energy sector 150, 152; federalization 141–2, 224, 237; forces 119–20, 122–3, 125, 127–8, 130, 133–6, 143, 146, 149, 152; foreign minister 132, 149; framework treaty 120–4, 132; frontier 128; gas pipeline 151–2; Georgia–Ingushetia border 126; Georgian–Russian business forum 124, 151; Georgian–Russian foreign minister meeting 149; Georgian–Russian government talks 141; Georgian–Russian military operations 127; government 28, 119, 121, 135, 137, 141, 144, 147, 150, 224; government crisis 139; interior ministry troops 145–6; IPAP with NATO 156; leadership 122–3, 128, 140, 142, 144, 151, 157, 223, 228, 236, 247; mail blockade 124; military bases 104, 120, 123–5, 131–3; military exercises 122; military forces 123, 125, 127, 133, 146; military incursion see Pankisi Gorge; military threats 137; mineral waters 124; national guard 133; national military strategy 149; National Security Council 147; oil pipeline see pipeline; Pankisi Gorge see Pankisi Gorge; paramilitaries or paramilitary forces see forces;

Index 323 parliamentary elections 121–2, 124, 131–3, 136, 138–9, 147, 149–51; political leadership 128, 228; president 119–20, 122–3, 125, 130, 132–3, 137, 141; presidential elections 138; prime minister 122, 136; princes 119; proper 120, 122, 133–4, 146; refugees 125–6, 130–1, 133, 143, 158, 237; regular army 30, 103, 119, 121, 130, 132, 138–40, 144, 150, 157, 223, 247; rose revolution 30, 103, 121, 130, 132, 138–40, 144, 150, 157, 223, 247; soldiers 145; state security minister 130; state weakness 120; strategic assets 151; territorial integrity 140, 143–4; territory 120–1, 123, 126–7, 129, 131, 135, 152, 157, 223, 236; troops 127–8, 134–6, 143, 145; Georgian–US cooperation 121; withdrawal of Russian military bases see military bases; see also Abkhazia; Ajaria; European Union; NATO; South Ossetia; United States Georgians 114, 119–20, 124, 133–5, 137–8, 142, 144–5, 147, 223, 237, 244, 247 Germans 175 Germany 15, 18, 21, 39, 60, 62, 78, 209, 240 globalization 5, 38, 250 goal: basic 16; economic 5, 238; fundamental 7; geo-economic 3, 5; geo-political 4, 5, 16; Russian 29; security 20; strategic 3, 94; ultimate 3, 38, 238 gold 183; gold deposits, Kyrgyztan 184–5; and uranium processing plants, Kyrgyztan 184 Golden Horde 13 governance 6, 30, 162 government: Abkhazia 137–40, 223; Armenia 118; Belarus 71, 77; Central Asian 209; EEC 40; Georgia 28, 119, 121, 135, 137, 141, 144, 147, 150, 224; Kazakhstan 179; Kyrgyztan 182, 185, 187; Moldova 27, 83–6, 94, 97, 222, 241; Russia 4, 20, 26, 115, 126, 207; SCO 43; Tajikistan 189–92; Transdniester 86, 94, 97; Ukraine 50, 52–3, 55, 59, 62, 98, 240; Uzbekistan 199–200 government business commission, Georgia 124 government crisis: Abkhazia 138–9; Georgia 139; Moldova 84

Great Game 102, 155, 162, 171, 207, 224, 230–1 Greater Asian security complex 230 Greater Europe 229, 230 Greater Georgia 14 Greater Middle East security complex 230 Greater Russia: ‘de-imperialization’ of 16; re-build 3–4, 8, 12, 22, 217–18, 229, 231–2, 248–50; re-builder of 22; territory of 14, 16 great power 10–12, 16, 19–20, 49, 162, 167, 211, 226, 231; external 230; hegemonic 12; major 18; race 19; regional 6, 12, 153, 222; role 8; Western 16 Gref, German 151 Gudauta (Abkhazia) 131, 133 GUUAM 26–8, 36, 38, 197, 199, 235; free trade zone 28; membership in 28 Hague, the 144 Hanseatic League 13 hard security 47, 159 Harvard University 28 Hazahr (Azeri) 171 hegemon 18; hegemonic great power 12, 153; hegemonic role 228, 231–2; hegemony 13, 235 Hizb ut-Tahrir (al-Islami), Uzbekistan 165, 198–9 Hoop Scheffer, Jaap de 154, 212 house bombings, Moscow 33 Hrazdan thermal power plant 116–17 Hu Jintao: President China 214 humanitarian: aid to Afghanistan 202, 212; intervention 17; issue, Transdniester 96 Hungary 49 Huns 161 identity: ethnic 237; issues 5, 94; Kazakh 175; Uzbek 163, 196; of Russia 12 illegals 194 immigrants 124, 179 imperialism: economic 58, 65; energy imperialism see energy; neo-imperialist forces 123; neo-imperialist thoughts 175; post-imperialist 4, 250 imperialization 5, 8, 238 implementation 25–6, 39, 42, 44, 60, 99, 116, 138, 170, 186 independence: Abkhazia 119–20, 133–4, 136; Armenia 114; Baltic States 15; Central Asian states 162; CIS states 44, 230; Crimea 50; Gauagaz 82–3;

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independence continued Georgia 128; Moldova 82, 85; Nagorno-Karabakh 105, 108; Russia 24; South Ossetia 148, 150, 237; Tajikistan 188; Transdniester 82, 91, 100; Turkmenistan 202; Ukraine 49; Uzbekistan 196 indebtedness 9, 220 India 18, 21, 43, 164, 189 Indian Ocean 196 Individual Partnership Action Plans (IPAP), NATO: Armenia 154–5, 159; Azerbaijan 155, 159; Georgia 156, 159; Kazakhstan 210 influence: global 11–12, 230; orbit of 237; Russian 8, 16, 24, 43, 58, 147, 163–5, 173, 200, 228–30, 232, 242; security, Uzbek 188, 242; sphere of 12, 16–18, 190; Western 173, 227 instruments: cultural 94; economic 100; hard power 8; politico-military 100; power 7; soft power 9; see also foreign policy: instruments integration: associations 20; CIS 26, 29–30, 40, 50, 181; defence 30–2, 81; economic 25, 30–1, 37–9, 41, 44–5, 74, 80, 202, 221, 232, 238, 245; Euro–Atlantic 38; European 27–8, 99; level of 68; military 81, 227; political 67, 73, 80, 220–1; process 20, 41, 68–9, 72, 176; regional 38; strategy 165; sub-regional 20 interdependence 10–11, 49, 245 Interior Ministry troops, Georgia 145–6 international: anti-terrorist coalition 42, 45, 198, 210; arena 8; community 141; counterterrorism campaign 164; force, South Ossetia 149–50; law 30, 128–9, 141; markets 224, 241; peacekeeping forces, South Ossetia 44; relations 20; terrorism 33–4, 42, 102, 111, 121, 126, 129, 163, 171, 176, 190, 208–9, 213–14, 221; terrorists 191, 197, 223 International Criminal Court 210 inter-state conflict, Nagorno-Karabakh 5, 17, 218, 236 investments 9, 40, 58, 118, 162, 172, 178, 180, 185, 187, 193, 195, 210, 213–14, 220, 241, 244 IPAP see Individual Partnership Action Plans (IPAP), NATO Iran 15, 43, 101, 103, 110, 112, 114–18, 156, 158, 162, 164, 167–73, 189, 193, 202, 217, 222, 234, 241, 244

Iraq: intervention 18; invasion of; 29, 156–7; military operation in 34, 159; war in 34, 55, 76, 81, 157, 165, 228 Islamic, Islamist: armed operations 183; attacks 163; extremism 19, 198; forces 208; fundamentalism 31, 164, 189, 197, 208; fundamentalist warriors 187, 197; intrusions, in Kyrgyztan 197; Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan (IMU) 35, 165, 199; opposition forces 188; state 182, 197; terrorism 32; terrorist organization 210; 165; warriors 163, 189, 198 Italy 21 Ivan the Fourth (the ‘Terrible’) 13 Ivanov, Igor 4, 33–4, 42, 52, 57, 77, 84, 91, 121–3, 126, 139, 141, 144–5, 169, 204, 207–8 Ivanov, Sergey 7, 29, 33, 36, 43, 75, 93, 108, 115, 122, 124, 126–7, 129–30, 132, 141, 144, 146–7, 157, 183, 192, 199, 207–8, 212, 215, 247 Japan 12, 15, 18, 165, 213 Joint Constitutional Commission (JCC), Transdniester 88 Joint Control Commission (JCC), South Ossetia 145–50 Kabardino-Balkaria 119 Kalahari Desert 202 Kaliningrad 15, 83, 237, 240 Kalmyks 161 Kalyuzhnyi, Viktor 168, 170 Kandym gas field, Uzbekistan 200 Kant air base 34–6, 164, 183–4, 234 Karabakh conflict see Nagorno-Karabakh Karakumi gas fields 172 Karimov, Islam 196–200, 211, 214 Kashagan oil field (Kazakhstan) 173, 178 Kazakhs 161, 175 Kazakhstan: air defence 177, 209–10, 234; air force 177, 234; ally 175, 177, 224; anti-Russian demonstrations 175; border delimitation, Kazkah–Russian 179; borders 175, 179, 196; electricity 214; foreign minister 209; gas company 178; gas distribution network 178; government 179; identity 175; joint venture, gas exploitation and transportation 178; Kazakh–Kyrgyz Autonomous Republic 175, 182; language 175, 180; military doctrine 177, 210; nationalist 175; naval force

Index 325 234; naval systems 177; nomads 161, 175; oil and gas see gas; oil; oil pipeline see pipeline; population 175, 179; president 162, 174–5, 180; presidential elections 180; security forces 177; see also Caspian Sea; European Union; NATO; United States Kazan, khanate of 13 Kasyanov, Mikhail 4, 57, 74, 185 Kerch Strait 56–8 KGB: Belarusian KGB 79–80; inheritance (Putin) 6; Soviet KGB 6–7 Khadjimba, Raul 139–40 khanates 14, 161, 196, 202 Kharkiv 58 Khiva khanate 14, 161 Khrami-1 and Khrami-2 power stations, Georgia 151 Kiev 13, 63, 80, 87 Kievan Rus 13–14, 49, 66 Kists, Chechens in Pankisi Gorge 125 know-how, Russian 9, 181, 220, 242 Kocharian, Robert 103, 105–9, 115–18, 155 Kodori Gorge 134–7, 143 Kokand khanate 161, 195–6 Kokoity, Eduard 144–6, 148–50 Kosovo 90, 142, 156, 208; humanitarian intervention in 17; Kosovo war 50–1, 69, 75 Kozak, Dimitri 7, 89–90 Kozak plan 91, 93, 100 Kozyrev, Andrey 16, 24, 162; Kozyrev period 19, 47 Kravchuk, Leonid 50 Kremlin 6, 17–18, 27, 73, 86, 120, 152, 176, 190, 221–2, 239, 244 Kuchma, Leonid 25, 38–9, 50–2, 54–8, 60, 97–8, 221, 227, 236, 239 Kuchma-gate 52, 55, 64 Kurils 15 Kurmangazy oil field 171, 178 Kvashnin, Anatoly 164, 198 Kyrgyztan: air defence 184; armed clashes 182; army 182; asset-for-debt see asset-for-debt; borders 196, 210; constitution 186; debt 184–5, 187, 242, 244; defence and security 183; demonstrations 186; economic dependency 187; electricity 185, 244; energy issues 184; ethnic Russian minority 186; foreign minister 214; government 182; hydroelectric capacity 184–5, 214; joint venture 185; Kyrgyz–Russian Investment Forum 185;

language 180, 183, 186; leadership 187; migrant workers 186–7, 247; nationalism, nationalists 182, 186–7; oil and gas see gas; oil; opposition 186–7; parliament 182–4, 186–7; population 182, 185–6; president 162, 182–3, 185, 187; presidential elections 186–7; prime minister 185; population 182; Russian acquisitions of Kyrgyz companies 187; tulip revolution 30; see also NATO; United States labour migration: issues 247; Kyrgyztan 186; Tajikistan 194 Lachin corridor 105 Lake, D. 3, 9, 10–12 language, of inter-ethnic communication: Central Asia 163; Kyrgyztan; minority 94; Moldova 95 language, official: Azerbaijan 112; Belarus 66; Kyrgyztan 182, 186; Moldova 82, 94; politics 5, 94, 163, 175, 232, 246; state 95, 180 Latin alphabet 110, 112, 180 Latin America 11, 200, 57 Latvia 14, 66, 75 Lavrov, Sergey 4, 30, 36, 53, 55–6, 79, 123–4, 132, 145–6, 149, 171, 185, 199–200, 209 lead 183 leadership: individual 6; political 5; relations 5; style (Putin) 6, 249; see also respective country legal status: of Caspian Sea 167, 169–70 Lenin 72 level of analysis 9, 11 liberal empire see empire lingua franca 25, 175 Lithuania 14–15, 66–7; Duke of 14; Lithuania/Poland 14 littoral states: of the Caspian Sea 167, 169, 171–2, 222 Ljubljana 18 Lucinschi, Petru 27 Lukashenka, Aleksander 25, 34, 38, 66–82, 220–2, 240, 248 LUKoil 178, 200 Magyars 82 Makhachkala (Dagestan) 172, 178, 203 managed democracy see democracy Manas airbase, Kyrgyztan 35 Manchuria 15 Mangyshlak oil fields, Kazakhstan 172–3

326

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market economy 58, 65, 67, 225, 228; market prices 61, 68, 240 Maskhadov, Aslan 125 means: economic 239; geo-economic 4; military 8; political 8; violent 8 median line (Caspian Sea) 168–9 mediator: Nagorno-Karabakh 106–9; Transdniester 84, 87–91 Mediterranean countries 198 Mediterranean Sea 12, 14, 114, 173 Medvedev, Dimitry 7 Medzamor nuclear power plant 116, 158 mercury 183 Middle East 11–12, 21, 101, 161–2, 228, 230 migrants 179, 194; illegal, in Russia 247, 249 migration: illegal 33, 164, 179; issues 194, 232, 245–6; labour 186, 194, 247; policy 5, 40 Milinkevich, Aleksander 80 militarization: of Caspian Sea region 224; of Central Asia 211 military: campaign 141, 144, 148; command staff exercises 35; component 34; conquests 15; contest 15; contingents 13, 83, 214; CST 32; integration, Belarus 227; invasion of South Ossetia 149; purpose 34; reform doctrine 33; sector 10; staff 34; staff exercises 35; strategy 32, 139; strength 8, 91; threat 33, 137; training, US in Georgia 157; unit 115, 146 military actions: Georgia 125–6, 128, 136, 141; Transdniester 95 military agreements: Kazkahstan 183; Uzbekistan 198 military alliance: with China 215 military assistance: Armenia 100, 115; Kazkahstan 176; Kyrgyztan 183; NATO to Georgia 156 military base: Armenia 103, 115; Georgia 157; Kazakhstan 209; Kyrgyztan see Kant air base; Tajikistan 191–2, 194; Chief of Staff 125, 164 military cooperation: Armenia 115–16, 118; Azerbaijan 111–12, 115–16, 118, 156; Belarus 68, 81; Georgia 123; Kazkahstan 177, 209–10; Moldova 84; NATO 54; Tajikistan 190–1, 197; United States–Azerbaijan 235; Ukraine 54, 64; Uzbekistan 197–8 military doctrine: Belarus 74; Russia 74, 130, 177; Ukraine 55

military equipment: Georgia 131–2, 156; Kazakhstan 210, 234; Kyrgyztan 184–5, 234; South Ossetia 135; Transdniester 84, 92; Uzbekistan 211 military exercises: Abkhazia 143; Armenia 110, 115, 154, 234; Belarus 75; China, Peace Mission 2005; Clear Skies 2003; CST 36; Georgia 122; Neman-2001 74; Korea 18; Kazakhstan 190, 210–11, 213; Kyrgyztan 184, 190; Rapid Reaction Force (CST) 35, 233; Rubezh (Frontier) 2004 36; Rubezh 2005 36; Rubezh 2006 36; ‘South – Antiterror 2002’, Kyrgyztan 35–6; Tajikistan 191, 235; Union Shield 2006; Uzbekistan 199–200 military facilities; Armenia 114–15; Belarus 68, 234; Kazakhstan 176; Ukraine 64 military force: Abkhazia 133, 136, 143, 223; Belarus 74, 234; Chinese 13, 41; CIS 24, 31; Georgia 119, 125, 129, 133, 143, 149; Russian 17, 34, 75, 120, 127, 133, 171, 189, 191, 197, 199; SCO 43; Tajikistan 190, 192, 197, 235; Ukraine 50, 236; US 208, 211; Uzbekistan 199, 211 military-industrial plants 116 military installation: Kazakhstan 176, 234; Kyrgyztan 183, 234; South Ossetia 145–8; US 134 military operation: Abkhazia 138; Afghanistan 159, 207, 210–11; Iraq 34, 159; Pankisi Gorge 127–8, 152 military presence 17–18, 36, 44, 48, 115, 171, 208–9, 213, 237, 248 military-technical agreement: Armenia 115; Azerbaijan 235 military-technical assistance, Uzbekistan 198 military-technical cooperation: Belarus 167; Kazakhstan 177, 234 Miller, Aleksey 77, 200, 205, 245 mining business 13, 185, 212 Minsk Group, OSCE (Armenia, Azerbaijan, Russia, United States, France) 105–9 missile defence system (European/Russian) 18 Moldavian Hydropower Station 96 Moldova: anti-Romanian stance 222; Basic Treaty 84, 99, 83; border with Ukraine see border; customs 89; customs blockade, Transdniester 87, 95–8;

Index 327 customs control 91; debt, to Russia 83, 92–3, 96–7; declaration of independence 82; demonstrations 85, 94; energy distributors 243; export control, wine to Russia 98; federal state controls 97; federalization plan, Transdniester 87–90, 100, 222, 237; foreign policy 84–5, 100; gas debt 93, 96, 243; government 27, 83–6, 94, 97, 222, 241; government crisis 84; independence movement 85; language 82–3, 95; leader, leadership 83, 87, 89, 222, 227; Moldovagas 96; Moldovan–Romanian relations 85; nationalism 246; opposition 85–6, 94, 99, 100; parliament 84, 91, 96, 99; president 84–6, 94; presidential elections 83–6, 94, 99; society 94–5, 100; territory 48, 97; see also EU; NATO; Transdniester; United States Moldovans 82, 85, 237 Molotov-Ribbentrop pact 82 monetary union 73 money laundering 29 Mongols 13–14, 49, 82, 110, 119, 161, 182, 188, 202 Monroe doctrine 230 Morgan, P. 2, 4, 9–12 Moscow 12–13, 32–3, 38, 49, 52, 61–2, 66, 72, 84, 86, 88, 105, 117, 122–4, 139–41, 144–6, 149, 157, 159, 169, 177, 186–7, 189, 198, 204, 207–8, 215 Moscow coup 105 Moscow Declaration, Azerbaijan 112 Moscow Times 23 Mtkvari power plant (Georgia) 151 Mujahidin of Central Asia 177 multilateral: agreement 169; approach 45; arrangements 29; cooperation 20; economic organizations 238; fora 24, 220; institutions 220; relations, relationships 45, 226; summits 103 multipolar world 20 multipolarity doctrine 51 Muscovy state 12 Muslim: Abkhazians 119; Azerbaijan 105; yoke 114 Muzorka military hospital 102 Nabiev, Rakhmon 188 Nachichevan 110, 114 Naftohaz Ukrayiny 61 Nagorno-Karabakh: armed clashes 105; conflict 102–9; constitution 109; enclave

105, 110, 114; foreign minister talks (Armenia, Azerbaijan) 107–9; region 102; Republic 106; war see war Napoleonic wars 14, 82 narcotics 33, 42, 165, 179 National Policy Concept, Moldova 95 national security: Armenia 115; Russia 123; Ukraine 58 National Security Concept 2000 19–20 National Security Council, Georgia 147 NATO: accession 99; air strikes, in Yugoslavia 31; assistance, Georgia 156; in the Caucasus 154–7; in Central Asia 207–12; countries 210; defence ministers 55, 93; doctrine 33, 50; enlargement 17; exercises, in Romania 211; NATO–Russia accords 76; NATO–Russia Council 54; NATO–Russian rapprochement 74, 80; ‘out-of-area’ operations 17; peacekeeping operations 17, 34, 155; strategic concept, doctrine 1999 50, 80; strategy 17; summit, Istanbul June 2004 208; summit, Prague November 2002 156; NATO/US 100, 236 NATO membership: Armenia 154; Azerbaijan 154–5, 159; Belarus 76; Georgia 154, 156–7; Moldova 99–100; Ukraine 54–6, 221, 227 natural resources 151, 167, 171 naval: base, Crimea 50, 53, 55, 236; build-up in Caspian Sea 171, 234; facilities 64; forces 234; procurements, Kazakhstan 234; system, Kazakhstan 177, 234; vessels, Pacific 214 naval exercises: Black Sea 56, 125; Caspian Sea 112, 171, 234; Pacific 18 Nazarbaev, Nursultan 38, 43, 169, 173, 175–80, 209–10, 213 negotiations: on Abkhazia 120–1, 123, 134, 136–7, 141–3; on Crimean borders, Ukraine 50, 56–7, 59–60; on military bases in Georgia 130–2; on Nagorno-Karabakh 106–7, 109; on SES 38, 238; on South Ossetia 144–5, 148–50, 152; on status of Caspian Sea 169–71; on Transdniester 83–4, 87–91, 95, 98, 100, 222 negotiations on gas pricing: Armenia 116–17; Belarus 77–8; Moldova 96–7; Turkmenistan 205; Ukraine 61, 240 neo-Eurasianists 225 neo-imperialist forces (in Russia) 123; thoughts 175

328

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neo-khanates 162 New York 33 NMD see Nuclear Missile Defence nomadic peoples, tribes 161, 175 Norak hydroelectric power station 193 North Atlantic Council 156 North Caucasus 124, 126, 172 Northern Alliance in Afghanistan 164, 190 North Korea 18, 79 North Ossetia 119–20, 144, 148, 237 Novgorod 13 Novorossiisk 111–12, 172–3, 178 nuclear: cooperation 213; energy 214, 244; fuel 116; strategy 74; weapons 16, 47, 50, 66, 158, 221, 236 Nuclear Missile Defence 17–18 nuclear power plant: Armenia 116; Georgia 151, 158; Kazakhstan 178 Nyazov, Saparmurad 202–4, 206 objects of analysis 10; objects of study 4 Odessa 14, 60–1, 97, 239 Odessa–Brody (Plock) oil pipeline 60–1 offshore fields, oilfields (Kazakhstan) 110, 166 oil: distribution facilities, networks 220–1; exploitation 18, 60, 78, 166–7, 171, 176–8, 205, 245; exploration 245; exporters 60, 174, 243; extraction 168, 178, 200, 242–3; and gas production and transit 61, 77–8, 165, 171, 174, 239–40; oil industry 213; pipelines 60, 64, 102, 155, 167, 171–4, 178, 185, 224, 242–3; production facilities 171–2, 220; refineries 58; transit routes, routing 51, 172, 238–9, 242–3; transits 81, 201, 221, 239, 242; transportation 178; see also pipeline oil pipeline: Baku–Novorossiisk 111–12, 172–3; Baku–Tbilisi–Ceyhan (BTC) 172–4, 243; Blue Stream (Black Sea) 204; Brody–Plock 60–1; BTC construction 173–4; BTC countries 174; BTC oil (export) pipeline 172, 174, 243; BTC project 173; Irkutsk–Nakhodka 213; Makhachkala–Novorossiisk 178; Odessa–Brody–Plock 60–1; see also pipeline Oleg 13 orange revolution see Ukraine order 1, 3, 8–9, 20, 121, 127, 248; orderer 3, 8, 249 organized crime 42, 125, 171, 236–7 Osama bin Laden 126, 190

Osman (Chirag) 171 OSCE 30, 43, 63, 67, 86, 88–9, 91–3, 96, 98, 108, 113, 134, 146, 180, 187, 204, 247; federalization plan, Transdniester 87–90, 92, 95; Istanbul 1999 agreement 222; leadership 105; meeting in Bratislava 86; Minsk group 105–9; Mission in Georgia 124, 128, 145; monitoring group, observers 147–9; observers 124, 158, 194; resolution 87; summit 83, 91–2, 99, 120, 131, 222 Osh 165, 184 Ossetians 144, 148, 150 Ottoman Empire 16, 82; Ottomans 14, 114 Our Ukraine 64 outlets: media 23; oil and gas 102, 172, 225, 242–3 PACE 108, 142 Pacific coast 15; Pacific Fleet 214; Pacific Ocean 15, 161; Pacific region 12, 20, 213 Pakistan 43, 189, 203 Pankisi Gorge: ammunition depots in 130; arms depots in 131; Chechen refugees 111, 125–6, 130, 176; Chechen warriors 120, 125–31, 134, 136, 152, 236; Russian intrusions in Pankisi Gorge 124, 127–8, 135, 223, 236 Paris 106, 108 parliamentary elections 247; Abkhazia 139; Armenia 109; Azerbaijan 113, 158; Georgia 121–2, 138, 150; Kazakhstan 180; Kyrgyztan 182, 186; Moldova 84; Tajikistan 184; Ukraine 52, 64 Partnership for Peace (PfP): Armenia 154; Azerbaijan 155; exercises 155, 159 Partnership for Peace (PfP) member: Kazakhstan 176, 209; Kyrgyztan 183, 210; Tajikistan 211; Turkmenistan 202; Ukraine 50 Party of Regions (Ukraine) 64 Patrushev, Nikolai 7, 139 peace agreement: Moldova 83; Nagorno-Karabakh 105–6; Nystad 14; South Ossetia 144; Tajikistan 189–90 peacekeepers 8; Abkhazia 103, 124, 131, 133–8, 143, 149, 151–2, 223; CASFOR 191; Nagorno-Karabakh 237; peacekeeping forces (Russian, CIS) 31, 44, 237; South Ossetia 120, 124, 144–9, 151–2; Tajikistan 24, 189, 235; Transdniester 86, 88, 95 peace plan: Nagorno-Karabakh 105, 109; Abkhazia 141–2

Index 329 peace process: Abkhazia 141; Nagorno-Karabakh 107–9; South Ossetia 149 peace talks: Abkhazia 140; Nagorno-Karabakh 109 penetration, external 2, 10–11, 158, 228, 231 Persia 14, 110, 114, 119, 161, 202 Persian: rule 202; tribes 161, 202; vassals 110 Persian Gulf 171 Peter the Great 14 PfP see Partnership for Peace Philippines 208 pipeline: Baltic Sea pipeline 65, 240; Blue Stream 204; bypass 60, 173, 178; company, Belarus 240–1; constructions 59, 173; dominance 173; infrastructure 60; Iran 117; networks, Kazakhstan 242; politics 172, 224; relations 232; transits 67; see also gas; oil piracy 138, 141 Poland 14–15, 48–9, 60–1, 66–7, 77, 227, 234; culture 49; partitionings of 14; rule 49; society 49; wars 14 policy: of economic re-integration 6; issues 5; policy window 163; see also foreign policy political climate 240; Belarus 67, 80, 220–1; concessions 62; dependence 230; elite 68, 79, 208; groups 6; integration, interests 19, 36, 58, 151, 171; party 179; sector 22; structure 229; system 69, 228, 249; terminology 225 politicizing: Belarus 78; Moldova 98 politico-cultural: arena 5, 100, 218, 231, 245–7; problems 112, 203 politico-economic issues 54, 96 politico-military: ally 240; arena 5, 23, 64, 100, 113, 217, 231–2; balancing 225; reasons 215; security issues 248; sphere 215 politics: bureaucratic 4; dimension of 22; high 85; leadership 5; verbalized 22; world 18, 21, 43, 165, 249 population see respective country post-11 September: anti-terrorist struggle 12; atmosphere 165; mood 106, 134, 152, 154, 233, 236; reorientation 41; world agenda 103 post-imperialist: perspective 4; strategy 250 post-Soviet period 224; space 11, 24, 26, 81, 176; territory 231

potential: economic 226, 238; energy 213; military 19; scientific-technological 19 Powell, Colin 157 power: electric 112, 178; grids 112; instruments 7–8; structures 6 power plants, hydro, nuclear: Armenia 116–17; Georgia 151, 244; Kazakhstan 178; Kyrgyztan 184–5; Moldova 243; Tajikistan 193, 244 powers: colonial 161; dominant 12; Eurasian 20; European 14; external 3, 10–11, 217, 224–5, 230, 233, 248; global 11; weak 162 Prague 107, 156; Prague process 109 pre-emptive (military) strikes 33, 130, 177, 236 premier, prime minister 26, 57, 74, 190, 239; see also individual names president: of Big Four 37–8, 39; of CACO states 44; of CST states 33; of SCO states 42; see also individual names presidential elections see respective country pricing of oil and gas: Armenia 117, 241; Belarus 77–8, 240; Georgia 151–2, 242; Moldova 86; Ukraine 53, 59, 61, 77 Primakov, Evgeny 19–20, 25, 41, 51, 67, 69, 84, 86–7, 92, 134, 189 primus inter pares 30 privatization: Belarus 67–8, 76, 80, 227; Russia 7; Ukraine 51, 58 production capacity 7; entities 8; facilities 171–2, 193, 220, 234, 239; resources 118; sharing agreement, Uzbekistan 178, 200 proto-complex: Africa’s Horn 11; West African 11 pro-Western 19, 26, 53, 247 Pskov Airborne Division 214 Putin: arrival in the Kremlin 17, 222; behaviour 1, 7; charm offensive 103, 168, 228; as civilizationist 249; closest entourage 22; economic policy 65; ‘economization’ of Russian foreign policy 5, 21, 80, 118, 238; election victory 33; foreign policy directions or goals see foreign policy; historic mission 16; leadership style 249; as modernizer 6; period of reign 26, 28, 44, 115, 159, 179, 219, 231, 233–4, 245, 249; Putin–Bush summit, May 2002 208; Putinism 238, 250; re-integration attempt 217, 231, 250; as reformer 249; strategies 5, 45, 217–18, 226, 231–2

330

Index

Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty 23 rapid deployment force, rapid reaction force, Rapid Reaction Force 34–6, 171, 234 Rakhmonov, Imomali 188, 190–3, 211 reconnaissance flights 157 Red Army 114, 196, 202 referendum: Abkhazia 120, 134; Belarus 66–7; Crimea 53, 56; Nagorno-Karabakh 108–9; on Russia–Belarus Union 68, 70, 72–4, 79; South Ossetia 148, 150; Transdniester 82, 91; Ukraine 53 refugee flows 164 refugees: Abkhazia 119, 133, 143, 158, 237; Central Asia 164, 179; Chechen 111, 125–6, 130–1, 176; Tajikistan 188 regional: concert 230; conflicts 9, 101, 103; developments 17, 103; empire 12; entity 9; great power 6, 12, 153; group of military forces, Belarus 75, 234; instability 189; level 42; level of analysis 9, 11; market 43; orders 9; organization 22, 24, 27, 40–6; priorities 20, security 35, 198, 214 regional security complex (RSC): 9–23, 101, 103, 164; Caucasian 101, 227–8; Central African 101; Central Asian 163, 215; CIS 10; East Asian 11; of Eurasia 2; European 10–11; Middle Eastern 10, 101; North American 11; Russia-centred 3, 9, 11, 17–18, 47, 101, 162, 218, 230–2; Russian 11; South American 11; South Asian 11; Southern African 11; standard 11; super complexes (European, Greater Middle East, Asian) 11; see also sub-complex Regional Security Complex Theory 3, 11 regional security dynamics 11; regional stability 40; regional structures 42; regional sub-complex 5, 23, 32, 34, 36, 38, 101, 172, 213, 217–18, 229, 248; regional sub-system 9–10; regionalization 9, 16; region-ness 226 regions: geo-political 12; sub- 22; super- 23; of the Russia-led security complex 19 re-imperialization 5 re-integration: of the CIS countries 6, 25, 231, 238, 250; of the neighbouring countries 54; re-integration strategies 217; Russian interests 219 repatriation issue: Abkhazia 137–8, 142; Tajikistan 194 Rice, Condoleezza 79, 209–10

road map: Abkhazia 143, 150; South Ossetia 150 Robertson, George 154, 210–11 Roghun hydropower plant 193 Romania: culture 82; history 95; language and literature 95; Romanian–Moldovan basic treaty 83; Romanian-speaking schools in Transdniester 98 Romans 110, 114 rose revolution see Georgia Rosneft 178 Rosukrenergo 62 RSC see Regional Security Complex RSCT see Regional Security Complex Theory Ruhr gas, Germany 60 Rumsfeld, Donald 127, 156, 209, 211–12 Rurik 13 Rusal (Russian Aluminium) 117, 193 Rushailo, Vladimir 29, 127, 164, 203 Russia: administration 16, 26, 29, 104, 175, 228; air base in Kant see Kant air base; air defence units 75; air strikes 130 see also Pankisi Gorge; armed forces 8, 191; arms industry 18; arms supplies 115; arms withdrawal, Transdniester see Transdniester; ‘assets-for-debts’ policy see asset-for-debt agreement; behaviour 25, 94, 100, 122, 140, 151, 226, 229, 242; bombers, Belarus 75; bombers, China 214; border guards see border; business 58, 151, 200, 225, 239; charm offensive 103, 168, 228; citizens 9, 25, 27, 33, 49, 57, 72, 141, 143, 147, 179, 182, 203–4, 245–7; citizenship 123, 145, 186, 232, 247; civil war see war; constitution 72; culture 9, 27, 82, 225; disinformation 212; domination 7, 12, 20, 25–6, 162, 224, 249; emigration 182, 186, 196; Federation 16, 19–21, 37, 52, 55, 69, 71–2, 80, 120, 144–5, 148, 230, 237; financial groups 59; forces see military forces; foreign relations see respective country or organization; generals 57, 198; government 4, 20, 26, 115, 126, 207; hegemony 13, 235; history 7–8, 12–18; idea 50; identity 12, 49, 225; imperial policy 16; imperialization strategy 238; intruders 128; investments 9, 40, 58, 118, 162, 172, 180, 185, 187, 193, 195, 213, 244; involvement 25, 27, 123, 173, 218, 247; leadership 71, 101, 220; media debate 207; military-industrial complex 96, 231;

Index 331 military see military force; minorities in Central Asia 179, 202, 249; missiles 75, 146, 234; mountain brigade 104, 132; national interest 19, 44, 59, 84; naval basing rights 50; officials 30, 40, 115, 126–8, 140, 207; passport 24, 143–4, 148, 204, 228, 247; population 7–8, 13–16, 50, 120, 144, 148, 161, 163, 175, 179–80, 185, 187, 200, 204, 246; presidential elections 60, 67–70, 72; protection 9, 119, 157, 234, 246; Republic 15, 144; republic in eastern Kazakhstan 179; revolution 15, 82, 202; Russia–Azerbaijan agreement 168; Russia–Belarus Union see Union; Russia-centered RSC see regional security complex; Russia–Kazakhstan agreement 168; Russian–Belarusian army 32, 36, 75; Russian–Belarusian Community Agreement 67–8; Russian–Belarusian currency see Union currency; Russian–Chinese competition in Central Asia 213, 229; Russian Soviet Federated Socialist Republic 167; Security Council 29, 30, 33, 127, 139, 164, 238; society 57, 95, 228, 239; state 3, 7, 13, 26, 30, 67–8, 84, 86, 145; state commission on the settlement of the Transdniester conflict 86, 92; State Customs Committee 179; territory 13, 15–17, 46, 167, 173, 204, 213, 226, 230, 242, 249; threats 27, 129, 236; visa requirements 124, 204; warnings 125, 143, 164, 211; weapon export 177; weapon procurement 234 Russian ambassador: to Georgia 124; to Moldova 98; to Tajikistan 192; to Ukraine 239; see also Chernomyrdin, Viktor S-300 missile defence units, Belarus 75, 234 Saakashvili, Mikhail 28, 121–5, 132–3, 139–43, 145–9, 151–2, 156–7, 174 St Petersburg 6, 7, 14, 124 Sakhalin 15 Sakwa, R. 6, 44–6, 249 Samarkand 161, 188 Sangtuda hydropower station, Sangtuda-1 and Sangtuda-2 power plants, Tajikistan 193 Scandinavia 13 Schroeder, Gerhard 60, 63 SCO see Shanghai Cooperation Organization

Sea of Azovsk 56–7 Sea of Japan 213 Sea of Ochotsk 13 secessionism 236; policies, Abkhazia 119; problems 5, 236; regions 100, 246–7; secessionist enclave 237; secessionist forces 17, 48 Sechin, Igor 7 sector: agricultural 43; defence 75, 221; economic 37, 67; energy 43, 67, 80, 116, 150, 152, 181, 185, 195, 206, 220, 223–4, 229, 239; gas 151, 239, 242; hydropower 193; military 10; pipeline 80; political 10, 22; transport 43, 151 security: agencies 42, 104; agenda 33; alignment 11; community 12; complex see regional security complex; cooperation 24, 203, 211, 213; dependencies 102; dimension 9, 227; dynamic 9, 11–12; engagement 229; externalities 12; global 11; guarantor 211; interdependence 11; manager 163; object 9; officials 179; problems 156, 163, 165, 187, 233; provider 154, 224, 229, 248; recipient 194; relationships 10, 223, 235; stance 212; vacuum 119 separatism 42, 84, 123, 144, 148, 214, 229, 236 separatist conflicts 123, 125, 143, 218; enclaves 25; movements 85, 124; region 97; republics 124; Uighur 165 separatists: Abkhazia 123; Transdniester 84, 95 September 11 6, 18, 21, 27, 28, 32–3, 36, 41, 43, 45, 54, 70, 74–6, 102–3, 106, 111–12, 115, 120–1, 126, 134–5, 152, 154, 158, 163–5, 169, 171, 179, 181, 183–4, 191, 194, 198, 200, 203, 207, 209, 211–12, 215, 225, 227–8, 232–3, 235–6, 249; see also post-11 September Serbia, air bombings of 17 Serdar (Kyapaz) fields 171 SES see Single Economic Space Sevastopol 50–1, 55 Shah-Deniz gas field, Azerbaijan 172 Shakhpakhty gas field 200 Shanghai: Five 41; Forum 41–2; Six 41 Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO): anti-terrorism centre 42, 233; anti-terrorism exercises 42–3; antiterrorism plan 43; governments of 43; military alliance 42–3; ‘NATO of the east’ 43; presidents of 42; Secretariat 42; summit 42–3

332

Index

Shevardnadze, Eduard 28, 103, 119–22, 125–31, 133–8, 145, 151, 156–7 Shevtsova, L. 6, 249 Siberia 13–15, 18, 21, 171, 175, 213; population 15 Sibir: Tatar khanate of 13; city of 13 Silk Road 161, 213 Single Economic Space (SES) 38–41, 44–6, 53, 57–9, 73–4, 176, 220, 238 Skrunda radar base (Latvia) 75 Slavic countries 8, 47, 52; Slavic Orthodox state 69 Slavs 227 Slovakia 49 Smirnov, Igor 86–92, 95 smuggling: Central Asia 163; South Ossetia 145, 147, 149, 152; Transdniester 87, 97–8 Sofia 90 Solana, Javier 96 South America 11, 21 South Asia 11, 224 South Caucasus 102–3, 115, 147, 154, 156, 158, 172; countries, states 103, 154, 158; security system 103; see also Caucasus South Korea 18 South Ossetia: armed clashes 144, 146; armed forces, groups 144–6, 148, 145; armed rebellion 120; artillery or mortar fire 146, 149; checkpoint, Georgian–Russian–Ossetian 145–6; conflict zone 120, 138, 144–6, 148; demilitarization 142, 146, 148–50; disarmament 149; independence 148, 150; leadership 149–51, 224; parliament 145; population 120, 144, 148, 237, 246; status of 142, 144, 148–9 South Ossetians 150 sovereignty 19, 26, 34, 38, 44, 56, 68, 70–1, 84, 140, 180, 230 Soviet: army 211; culture and history 245; empire 47, 249; era 5, 12, 19, 44, 49–50, 83, 86, 101, 114, 116, 120, 172, 176–7, 185, 194, 203; forces 119; history 175; KGB 6; military bases 131; military-industrial complex 96; pipeline routes 172; republic 18, 24–5, 32, 49, 64, 66, 96–7, 110, 119, 175, 179, 182–3, 196–7, 203, 227, 248; rule 150; Soviet Socialist Union 15; space 9, 11, 17, 24, 26, 34, 36, 81, 151, 172, 176, 184, 188, 197, 226, 230, 238; states 29; territory 13

Soviet Union 4, 12, 15, 26, 39, 72, 238; disintegration 225; fall of 29, 67, 101; former 99, 101, 120–1, 129, 172, 225; implosion of 19; population 16 sphere: cultural 165; defence, military 165, 206, 215; economic 43–4, 64, 115–16, 118, 165, 176, 206, 225, 227–9; of influence 12, 16–17, 190; security 44 SSPM see Stability and Security Pact for Moldova (SSPM) Stability and Security Pact for Moldova (SSPM) 90 stabilizers 17, 249 Stalin 49, 72, 162, 228 state: authorities 102; debt 118; of emergency 121, 138; newborn 16; sovereignty 38; terrorism 124; unified 230 state, independent: Belarus 70; Kyrgyztan 62; South Ossetia 145; Transdniester 95, 101 state language: Kazakhstan 175; Moldova 95 Stepashin, Sergey 69 Strasbourg 107 strategic: conflict 64; doctrine, concept (NATO) 50, 80; interest 52, 189; location 19; problem 47, 119; region 104; relationship with China 18; relationship with Uzbekistan 235; threat 12, 16 strategic assets: Armenia 116, Georgia 151, Ukraine 65 strategic partnership: Armenia 114–15; Azerbaijan 111–12; Belarus 69, 229; China–Kazakhstan 213; Georgia 123; India 18; Kazakhstan 177, 179; Kyrgyztan 183–4; Moldova 84–5, 229; Tajikistan 190–1; Ukraine 51–4, 229; Uzbekistan 197, 199–200 strategy: economic 103; EU common 50; general 116, 174; imperialization 238; military 32; nuclear 74; political 4; Putin 41, 77, 232; UN 34; see also foreign policy: strategy strengthen the state 6, 238; strengthening the vertical 1 SU-25 aircrafts 133, 135 sub-complex 5, 22–3, 32, 36, 225–6, 229; Caucasus 17, 101–2, 172, 217, 224, 227–30; Central Asian 17, 22, 162–3, 207–8, 213, 215, 217, 224, 229–30, 248; European 16, 22, 47, 159, 220, 227, 248 Sukhumi 133, 140, 142

Index 333 summit: Armenian–Azeri, on Nagorno-Karabakh 106–9; Bush–Nazarbaev 210; China–Kazakhstan 213; China–Tajikistan 214; China–Turkmenistan 214; on Caspian Sea delimitation 168–70, 173; of the CIS 25–6, 28–9, 38–9, 198, 204; Crimean, of the ‘Big Four’ 39–40; of the CSTO countries 34–5; of the EEC 40–1; EU–Russia 93; EU–Ukraine, October 2003 58; of the five (SCO) 41–3, 173; NATO, Prague November 2002 156; NATO, Istanbul June 2004 156, 208; OSCE 93; OSCE, Istanbul 1999 83, 92, 99, 120, 131; Putin–Aliev 103, 106; Putin–Bush, Ljubljana June 2001 18; Putin–Bush, Texas November 2001 18; Putin–Bush, Moscow May 2002 52, 54, 127, 208; Putin–Kocharian 116, 118; Putin–Kuchma 51–2, 58, 97; Putin–Lukashenka 70–5, 77, 240; Putin–Nazarbaev 176, 209; Putin–Rachmonov 192; Putin–Saakashvili 124, 142, 148; Putin–Shevardnadze 103, 121; Putin–Voronin 86–7, 89, 97; Putin–Yushchenko 52–3; of the SES 37, 39–41; Sochi March 2003 137–8; Sochi April 2005 74; Sochi August 2006 41; see also respective country super-inflation 7 superpower 11, 174; competition 9 super-regions 23 Supsa 111, 174 surface-to-air missiles 75, 234 Suzdal, Vladimir 13 Svan clan 143 Sweden 13–14 Switzerland 62 Syr-Daria 196 Tajikistan: ally 189; armed clashes 190; armed forces 235; armed uprising 189; border see border; civil conflicts 189; civil war see war; debt 193, 242, 244; defence and security 189; defence troops 191; demonstrations 188; economy 193–4; electricity 193; energy issues 193; energy sector 195, 224; gas reserves 193, 244; government 189; hydropower resources 193; language 188; leadership 189; migrant workers 247; opposition 188–9, 194; parliament

189, 194; president 188, 192–3; presidential elections 194; Russian troops 189–92, 194, 235; territory 224; see also NATO; United States Taliban 19, 31–3, 152, 162, 164, 189–91, 210, 223; forces 190; leader 164; threat 33, 35, 164, 183, 208; victory 189; warriors 235 Tarasyuk, Boris 53 Tatar khanates 13–14; Tatar yoke 13 Tbilisi 14, 111, 118–21, 125, 131, 138, 140–2, 145, 148–9, 151, 172–3 Teheran 170 Tengiz oil field, Kazakhstan 176 territorial ambition 143, 237; concessions 109; conflicts 100; expansion 15–16; gains 16; integrity 34, 56–7, 71, 84, 87, 100, 122, 140, 143–4; peak 15; space 15; unity 144 terrorism 17, 34, 42, 44, 52, 78, 80, 104, 111–12, 121, 127, 129–30, 134, 137, 152, 157, 163–4, 171, 177, 183, 198, 200, 208, 212, 228, 232–3, 235, 248–9; incursions into Kyrgyztan and Dagestan 163, 184, 191, 234–5; infrastructure 128; international 16, 33–5, 102, 104, 111, 121, 126, 129, 153, 163, 171, 176, 190–1, 197, 208–10, 213–14, 221, 223; Islamic 32; issue 103, 203; Kazkahstan 177, 190; organizations 165, 197, 213; plague, Uzbekistan 199; problems 212; state 124; threat 102, 128, 171, 234 terrorist attacks 102, 134, 198; bombing 182, 199; Chechen 126, 128, 199 Texas 18 Timur Lenk 161, 202 Tiraspol 86–8, 90, 92–3 trade: barrier 59; liberalization 30; regime 232; restrictions 155; routes 49; turnover 37, 39; war see war trafficking: arms 42, 87, 149, 171; drug 40, 42–4, 87, 165, 171; human 42 ‘Train and Equip’ programme, US 126 Transcaucasus region 103; Transcaucasus Republic 110, 119 Transdniester 5, 7, 14, 17, 27, 44, 48, 82, 86–96, 218, 222, 227, 229, 231, 236–7, 240–1, 243, 246, 248; ammunition 83, 92–3; armament withdrawal 84, 86–7, 92–3; armed clashes 86; authorities 88; border controls 98; citizenship 89; customs controls 91; economic blockade 87–8, 90; government 86, 94, 97; independent sovereign state 95, 145;

334

Index

Transdniester continued leadership 86–8, 93, 100, 149–50, 222; mediators, Russian–Ukrainian–OSCE 87–91, 106; presidential elections 83; referendum see referendum; Republic 83, 86, 95; Russian troops in 86, 91, 92–3, 99, status of 83, 86, 91–5, 100, 120, 142, 144, 148–9, 151; schools, school issues 90, 94–6, 98, 102, 246; settlement 86, 89, 92–3; status 86, 91; weapon storages 83; withdrawal of weapons and troops 84, 91–4 transit: capacity 8; corridor 212; dependency 59, 65, 172, 239–40, 243; gas and oil 77–8, 221, 240, 242; pipelines 60–1, 76, 79, 165, 167, 172, 178, 240; rates 62, 242; routes 51, 206, 238–9, 242–3; weapon 65, 78, 221, 240, 242–3 transport 28, 39, 43, 143, 174, 177–8, 214, 223; route 67, 102, 117–18; 168; union 40 Trenin, D. 5, 101, 250 troops 17, 36, 45, 74–5, 88, 91–3, 105, 107, 110, 120, 127, 128, 128, 131–2, 134–6, 136, 143, 145–7, 163, 177, 179, 184, 189–91, 194, 198, 214, 222, 231 troop withdrawal: Georgia 124, 131–8, 143, 147, 149, 192, 222–3, 236; Transdniester 83–4, 86, 91–3, 99–100, 222–3 Tsarist Empire 4, 8 Tskhinvali 146 Turkestan 165, 188, 196; Turkestan Autonomous Republic 113, 202 Turkey 101, 103, 106, 110, 114, 115, 117, 119, 122, 126, 155, 158, 162, 168, 172–3, 177, 202, 204, 217, 224, 234, 241, 243, 248–9 Turkish: cargo ship 141; culture 82; defence cooperation with Georgia and Azerbaijan 115; language 110, 175–6; origin 175, 196, 202; people 82; territories 15; tribes 161 Turkmenbashi 202–3, 205; exit-visa regime 203; leadership 206; opposition 202; president 168–70, 202, 205 Turkmenistan: demonstrations 204; energy issues 204–6; gas 200, 202–6, 214; gas export to China 203, 214; population 202; Russian diplomatic notes 204; Turkmen–China gas pipeline 214; Turkmen–China summit 214; see also Caspian Sea; United States

Turkmens 202 Turks 110, 114, 160 Tuzla islet 52, 56–8, 221, 236 Twin Towers 33 two-level game 81 Tyrol, Italy 148; Tyrol solution 142 Tzygankov, A.P. 249 UES see Unified Energy Systems Ukraine: armed forces 50, 236; arms production 51, 236; border see border; constitution 50; demonstrations 63; economic cooperation 54, 58–9; election campaign 62; energy debt 59–61; energy issues 59–62; foreign ministry 56–7; gas dependency 240; government 50, 52–3, 55, 59, 62, 98, 240; leadership 40, 53, 65, 221, 227, 236; orange revolution 30, 40, 52–5, 61–5, 79, 98, 186–7, 194, 221, 227, 240, 246–8; parliament 56–7, 64; presidential elections 59, 62; people 63; re-orientation 53, 58; Supreme Court 63; territory 50, 56; Ukraine–NATO Action Plan 54; see also Black Sea; EU; NATO; United States unification: Georgia 144; issue 73; process 69, 75–6; referendum on Union, Belarus 68, 70–1, 72, 73, 74; Russia–Belarus Union 48, 68–9, 71–3, 80 Unified Energy Systems (UES): in Armenia 116–18, 244; in Azerbaijan 112; in Georgia 150–1, 244; in Kyrgyztan 244; in Moldova 96; in Tajikistan 193, 244 Union, Russia–Belarus 67–74, 78, 80, 220–1; Council of Ministers 73; currency 72–3, 77; draft treaty on 69; government 73; parliament 71–2; Supreme Council 69, 73; Union Charter 69; Union Constitutional Act 70–1; Union Treaty 68–70, 72–3 United Bank of Georgia 151 United Kingdom 39, 168, 210 United Nations (UN) 34, 124, 134–6, 138, 140–3, 188, 212; Charter 129; forces 134; General Assembly 57, 66, 105, 107, 109, 142, 148; intervention, Abkhazia 138; Observer Mission in Georgia (UNOMIG) 136; observers 135, 142; patrols, Kodori Gorge 137; peacekeeping engagement 134; police force, Abkhazia 138; resolutions 107, 129; Secretary General see Annan, Kofi;

Index 335 Security Council 34, 134, 136–7, 139–41, 143, 208; Security Council session 30, 136, 179; special envoy, Abkhazia 140; UN-led Georgian–Abkhazian talks 141–2; UN-sponsored Coordinating Council 137; UNHRC 212; see also UN Security Council resolutions United States: arms embargos on Armenia, Azerbaijan 154; assistance 156–7, 209, 212, 236; attack on Iraq 157; criticism of Uzbekistan’s human rights record 199, 212; deployments 36, 184, 198, 210; exercises in Kyzgystan 211; forces in Central Asia, 181, 191, 208, 211; instructors in Georgia 126–7, 157; investments 210; military presence, Central Asia 18, 208–9, 213, 248; Millennium Challenge program 155; oil company 176, 202; Special Forces in Georgia 127; transit flights, Azerbaijan 155; troops 36, 127; US–Azeri relationship 113, 156; US–Central Asia state relations 154–8, 209; US–Russian competition 210; US–Russian cooperation 52, 208; US–Russian Dartmouth conference 109; war on terrorism 18, 156, 212; see also US UN Security Council resolutions: of 31 January 2002 129; antiterrorism resolution 1373 128; Nagorno-Karabakh 1993 107 Ural mountain ridge 175; Urals 13 uranium 183–4, 189; uranium extraction 178 US airbase: in Azerbaijan 156; Khanabad, Uzbekistan 201, 211–12; Manas, Kyrgyztan 35, 182, 187, 210; in Tajikistan 211; in Turkmenistan 212 US engagement: in Caucasus 103, 106, 152; in Central Asia 27, 159, 164 US military involvement: in Caucasus 159; in Central Asia 36, 45, 212, 229; in Georgia 123, 152; in Nagorno-Karabakh 106 USSR see Soviet Union Ussuri river 15 Uzbekistan: anti-Russian demonstrations 196, 198, 235; armed forces 211; border, Uzbek–Kyrgyz 182, 196; defence and security 197; energy 200; gas 200; government 199–200; human rights 199, 202, 247; Islamist movement 163, 183, 187; language 196, 201; national identity 196; nationalism 196;

oil and gas deposits 200, 244; police 198; president 196–7; Russian ally 196–7; Russian troops 198; territory 196, 198; tribes 161; see also United States Vaziani (Georgia) 131 Verkhny Lars border crossing point (South Ossetia) 117–18 Viking 13 visa requirement: Abkhazia 143; Georgia 124; Turkmenistan 204 Vladivostok 15 Vneshtorgbank 151 Volga basin 175 Volga, long-range radar station in Belarus 75, 234 Voronin, Vladimir 27–8, 46, 84–91, 94–100 Vyakhirev, Rem 203 Waever, O. 3, 11–12, 16, 153, 162 Wahhabis 126 war: against the Ottomans 14; against the Taliban 32; against terrorism 54, 233; Armenian–Azerbaijan, over Nagorno-Karabakh 102–10, 114, 116, 155–6, 228, 223, 227, 231, 234–7, 241; Chechnya 17, 32–3, 102–4, 111, 113, 120, 125, 128, 152, 172, 176, 223, 228, 235–6; Cold War 9, 233; Crimean War, 1853–56 14; drug war 188; on election norms 79, 222; European wars 15; First World War 14–15, 110; gas war, Belarus 61–2; gas war, Moldova 97; gas war, Ukraine 78–9, 240; Georgia–Abkhazia 17, 102, 119–20, 133, 137, 223; Georgia–South Ossetia 17, 102, 120, 144; Great Patriotic War, 1941–45 77; Iraq 76, 81; Kosovo 69, 75; meat war, Moldova 53, 98; meat war, Ukraine 53; Napoleonic Wars 14, 82; Northern War, 1700–21 14; Polish wars 14; Russo–Japanese War, 1904–05 15; Russo–Polish War 1667 14; secessionist 17, 102, 120; Second World War 15, 77; trade war, Georgia 124; trade war, Moldova 58; trade war, Ukraine 58; see also civil war Warsaw 107 Washington 208 West, the 12 West European security and economic structures 17

336

Index

White Sea 13 window of opportunity 19, 232 wine: ban 86, 98, 124; export 98; import 98 WMD proliferation 171 World Bank 117 world community 176, 209; hegemon 18; markets, 167, 178, 227, 242–3; politics 18, 21, 43, 165, 249 World Trade Organization 38 Xinjiang (China) 42, 163, 165, 213 Yanukovich, Viktor 52–3, 56–7, 62–4 Yastrzhembski, Sergey 126 Year of: Kazakhstan in Russia 177; Russia

in Armenia 118; Russia in Azerbaijan 112; Russia in Ukraine 52 Yeltsin 5–8, 16, 18, 20, 24–6, 29, 31, 44, 48, 50–1, 68–70, 72, 75, 83, 102, 114, 120, 133, 177, 179, 190, 197, 222–3, 226–8, 230–1; era 6, 12, 16, 17, 19, 25–6, 36–7, 44–7, 59, 64, 67, 80, 102, 109, 118–20, 158, 166, 176, 200, 211, 219–20, 233, 236, 246; legacy 19, 29, 51, 74, 105, 201 Yerevan 117 Yushchenko, Viktor 40, 52–3, 55–9, 61–4, 247 Zhvania, Zurab 121