Russia's European Choice

Russia’s European ChoiceEdited by Ted Hopf

ussia’s european choiceCopyright © Ted Hopf, 2008.All rights reserved.First published in 2008 byPALGRAVE MACMILLAN175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 andHoundmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire, England RG21 6XS.Companies and representatives throughout the world.PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the PalgraveMacmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd.Macmillan® is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom andother countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union andother countries.ISBN-13: 978-0-230-60586-2ISBN-10: 0-230-60586-9Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication DataHopf, TedRussia’s European choice / edited by Ted Hopf.p. cm.Includes bibliographical references and index.ISBN 0-230-60586-91. European Union—Russia (Federation) 2. Russia (Federation)—Relations—European Union countries. 3. European Union countries—Relations—Russia(Federation) I. Hopf, Ted, 1959-HC240.25.R8R89 2008341.242’2—dc22A catalogue record of the book is available from the British Library.Design by Scribe Inc.First edition: June 200810 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1Printed in the United States of America.

vi ● Contents7 Boundaries of Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration: 187Rethinking “Conflict” between Russia and the EUVadim Kononenko8 The Stalemate in EU-Russia Relations: 215Between “Sovereignty” and “Europeanization”Sergei MedvedevReferences 233Index 259

IllustrationsFigures3.1 Governmental actors 623.2 The internal structure of the Russian Foreign 64Ministry (related to European policy making)3.3 The Security Council of the Russian Federation 723.4 The Russian foreign policy decision-making system 83(government and nongovernment levels)5.1 Advertisement of the DVTG Group 125(Rossiiskaya Gazeta 23.3.2005)5.2 A passage through the courtyard 133(photograph by author)5. 3 At the opening of Chita-Khabarovsk road 134(February 26, 2004)Tables2.1 The role of Russia in the reconstitution 53of European international society6.1 Four common spaces 1726.2 Common economic space 1736.3 The degree of economic integration in 175EU-Russian relations

viii ● Illustrations6.4 Russia’s foreign trade structure, 2005 177(not CIS)6.5 Russia’s trade with main partners, 2005 1786.6 EU trade with main partners, 2006 1786.7 European Union, imports from Russia 178(Mio euro)6.8 European Union, exports to Russia (Mio euro) 1796.9 Theories of integration and EU-Russian relations 179

IntroductionTed HopfThe very title of this book, Russia’s European Choice, conceals several ofthe contested assumptions about Russia’s relations with Europe. Themost conventional question concerns whether or not Russia is choosingEurope at all; if it is rejecting Europe, crafting for itself its own authenticallyRussian way; or if Russia is already confident that it is Europe.The second issue is whether or not Russia can choose to be Europe in thefirst place, or whether it is not more accurate to say that Europe can chooseRussia, but Russia cannot choose Europe. In fact, the title has misidentifiedthe agent in the relationship. Russia can want to be Europe desperately, butin fact only Europe can confer that status and identity on Russia.The third misdirection is the title’s presumed treatment of Russia andEurope as unitary, as if only the central government in Moscow is choosingto be European or not, and the European Commission is choosing to permitRussia to be European or not. In fact, the Russian state, let alone its society,has a multiplicity of agents, each of whom has different relations to Europe,both substantively and materially, discursively and ideationally. Likewise,the European Union (EU) itself has different institutional bodies, but justas important, the EU is still composed of member states that have bilateralrelationships with Russia as well.The title also assumes that there is actually a choice to be made, as ifthere is an agent deliberating and deciding. But in fact, Russia’s relations withEurope are being constituted daily by myriad interactions among a plethoraof agents: from individual Russian tourists in Italy to Gazprom executivesconsidering sources of investment capital. The resultant identity relationshipbetween Europe and Russia, itself an ongoing daily process, is an unintentionalstructural byproduct of these many interactions, not an intentionalchoice by anyone.

2 ● Ted HopfFinally, the title implies some finality to the choice, as if once thechoice is made, Russia will then be an unproblematic European partner ina cooperative relationship with Europe. One possibility, rarely entertainedby scholars and policymakers alike, is that Russia can be European and inboth daily conflict and cooperation with Europe.Each of these five themes, misleadingly hidden in a short, snappy booktitle, are present in the eight chapters constituting this book. In what follows,I develop each of these themes, making reference to the contributionsto this volume and then providing a more literal roadmap of the volume.Before turning to the substance of the book, we must acknowledge ourdebt to its financial supporters. The contributors to this volume summarizethe main findings from “Russia’s European Choice: With or Into the EU?”that has been funded by the Academy of Finland as part of a wider “Russiain Flux” Research Program (2004–7). In addition to the academy, we wouldalso like to acknowledge the financial support the project has receivedfrom the Ministry for Foreign Affairs and the Ministry of Transport andCommunications of Finland.Europe: Yes or No?As a matter of historical perspective that is relevant to contemporaryRussian-European relations, it is important to recall the pre-Petrine daysof Muscovy when the issue of Russia choosing to be European or notdid not even emerge (Neumann, this volume). Even once the issue arose,Russians either understood themselves as already naturally European,becoming European, or transcendant of the European project altogether.These three broad positions remain active to this day (Medvedev, thisvolume). Being naturally European implies a Russia that is already confidentthat it is as European as Germany, Italy, or France, a Russia that need notbe tutored as to what constitutes European identity. In fact, some contemporaryRussians argue that Russia is the true Europe, one that has not succumbedto globalizing, homogenizing practices.At the other end of the spectrum, but with similar implications, is theargument that Russia is uniquely irreducible to European, Asian, or evenEurasian, but instead its own unique combination of characteristics. Therefore,choosing Europe is nonsensical; Russia already is something else thatboth includes and transcends features and practices that constitute Europe.But once Russia regards itself as becoming Europe, we are on more conventionalterrain. At this point, we can speak of Russia choosing Europe asa “norm-taker” rather than as a “norm-maker” for Europe and the world(Neumann, Haukkala, Saari, this volume). This brings us to the question of

Introduction ● 3whether Russia is choosing Europe, or if Europe is conferring a Europeanstatus and identity on Russia.Whose Choice?A social identity is social because it is constituted in interaction between twoor more agents, and it is not in the capacity of an agent to merely declareherself to be what she wishes or considers herself to be. In this sense, poweris transferred to others. In this case, Europe had and has the power to declareRussia European or not. This power often has taken some institutional form:whether or not to include Russia in peace conferences in the eighteenthcentury and in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, or how much toinclude Russia in the EU. In the past, as in the present, Russian membershiphas been denied or limited based on a single criterion: domestic conductdeemed unworthy of being an authentic European of the age (Neumann,Haukkala, Saari, this volume). European power was and is assumed tobe material and ideational. Until Russia stops doing this, or begins doingthat, it cannot expect to participate in these trade relations or diplomaticnegotations. On the other hand, it is assumed that Russia is waiting, as well,to receive the European “seal of approval” for its European identity. Russia’sassertions that it is inherently European, therefore, are claims that power goesboth ways, that Europe should be held to Russian standards of Europeanness,too. Russia has an interest in a Europe with plural identities, a broad enoughdefinition of Europe to entail contemporary Russian deviations from the oneon offer from the West (Medvedev, this volume).Which Russia? Which Europe?While it is always useful to warn against treating any state as a rationalunitary actor, it remains the conventional default when discussing Russian-European or Russian-EU relations. Russia’s policy toward Europe is managedby a bewildering array of governmental institutions and nongovernmentalactors (Sergunin, this volume). And those actors change across time andacross issue areas, such that it is far more accurate to say that at any givenmoment, Russia is both choosing and rejecting Europe, as its many agentsare in fact doing just that, at a minimum. Within the Russian governmentitself, the Presidential Administration, National Security Council,Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Ministry of Defense, other executive agencies,and the Duma all compete for influence over various aspects of policytoward Europe. Meanwhile, if that were not complex enough, localand regional governments carve out their own policy domains, hoping to

4 ● Ted Hopfforge relationships with Europe independent of Moscow’s concerns. In addition,nongovernmental actors, such as business lobbies, interest groups, thinktanks, and so on, weigh in as they can. In effect, there is no Russian-Europeanrelationship, let alone a Russia choosing or not choosing Europe. Insteadthere are thousands, if not millions, of choices being made in the relationshipevery day, diffused throughout Russian state and society, each of which contributesto the outcome, the collective choice, for or against Europe.This multifarious Russia is faced with an equally multivocal Europe(Medvedev, this volume). The Russian state itself interacts with manydifferent Europes. Just on an institutional level, the European Union, itscommission, parliament, and myriad organizational branches—the Councilof Europe and the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe—each provides a different Europe with which Russia’s own collection ofministries and bureaucracies develops different relationships. Meanwhile,the Russian state and its constituent parts develop bilateral relationshipswith individual European states, most importantly with Germany, France,the United Kingdom, and Italy. In this way, it is misleading to speak ofRussia’s European choice and more accurate to speak of the many choicesmany different Russias are making with regard to many different parts ofEurope (Kononenko).What Decision?Identity relations are not only chosen, they are also constructed throughinteraction among agents who have only the most partial control over thestructures of identity within which they operate and which they reproducethrough their mundane daily practices and use of language (Pynonniemi, thisvolume). One way of thinking about this is to pose a thought experiment.Which of the following two scenarios are indicators of deeper integrationbetween Russia and Europe? The first scenario is where “evroremont” is thetaken-for-granted way of saying you have a newly modernized apartment,and every single one of the history textbooks in Russian public schools onRussian history automatically situates Muscovy, Petrine Russia, Imperial Russia,the Soviet Union, and contemporary Russia within European history. Dowe think such a reality, one that is not deliberately or consciously chosen byanyone, is less indicative of Russia and Europe’s co-constitutive relationshipthan the alternative scenario measured by levels of foreign investment, trade,and agreements on visas or product liability law? Any account of Russia’sEuropean choice has to take into account the millions of non-choices madeevery day that nonetheless end up reproducing an integral relationshipbetween Russia and Europe, whether intentionally or not.

What Are Cooperation and Conflict,and What Are They Good For?Three Possible AnswersIntroduction ● 5This book ends with three alternative perspectives on Russia’s relationswith Europe. Rather than trying to artificially reduce and homogenize alldifferences surfaced in the previous chapters, Pursiainen, Medvedev, andKononenko offer three different analyses on the prospects for Russian-European “integration.”Pursiainen takes up the challenge of assessing Russian-European relationsfrom the perspective of most of the available theoretical perspectives onoffer: functionalism, neofunctionalism, institutionalism, regime theory, andothers. His bottom line, presented regrettably, one might say, is that wecan only hope for limited “institutionalized cooperation between autonomousrational actors in certain fields of common interests” (Pursiainen, thisvolume). This rather sober conclusion, as I said, is presented with somedisappointment, as if we should hope for more.Medvedev and Kononenko beg to differ and do so in quite different andimaginative ways. Medvedev points out that EU-Russian relations, if notEuropean-Russian relations (a very important distinction), are at a stalematecovered up with all sorts of razzamatazz (Pynonniemi): summits, strategies,road maps, and so on. Both Russia and the EU have adopted very modernstrategies of coping with the intrusive and disruptive effects of globalization:sovereignization and assimilation. This is a collision course promisingnot much more than limited pragmatic cooperation, punctuated by realand overt conflicts over real differences. While Russia aspires to reduce theunexpected through protecting itself from violations of its sovereign orderat home, the EU is busily implementing a neoimperial strategy of makingall states on its borders like itself, thereby reducing its uncertainty abouttheir subsequent conduct.Medvedev’s solution is, basically, let’s live with it. Russia should pursuebilateral and regional relationships that pass under the radar of EU surveillanceand discipline. The EU should get over its civilizing mission inRussia and accept that Russia’s European identity, though fundamentallyat variance with the EU’s own twenty-thousand page list of characteristics,is still European, but on Russia’s unique terms.Kononenko’s conclusion is that there is no solution, because there maybe no problem. In implicit response to Medvedev, Kononenko observes thatit is only our theoretical and political commitment to modern conceptionsof sovereignty, territoriality, and borders that compels us to see thesovereignty-Europeanization binary. As a consequence of these modern a

6 ● Ted Hopfpriori assumptions, we see much more conflict than in fact exists, especiallysince the myriad daily cooperative interactions, at both the most local andmost elite levels, are obscured by our theory-guided focus on difference.Theory, as Kononenko observes, simplifies, but it simplifies in a skeweddirection, toward binarization either in Europe or out of Europe, either ofconflict or cooperation, when in fact, every day Russian-European relationsare characterized by both ends of the continuum and countless ambiguousrelationships in between.So, we are left with three very different views. Russia can choose Europe,but only if Europe chooses Russia, the latter occurring only after a domestictransformation according to the EU model. Or Russia and Europe can justget used to being different, respect those differences, cooperate when desirable,and clash where necessary. Or Russia and Europe can jointly realizethat they are already in a relationship that is rendered problematic only by acontinued commitment to a modern sovereign ontology.A Preview of ChaptersThis book is divided into four parts. Part 1 contains two chapters analyzingthe history of Russian-European relations since the fifteenth century. Part2 contains two chapters, one of which analyzes Russian policy makingtoward Europe, the other on EU policy making toward Russia. Part 3 alsocontains two chapters, dealing with substantive relations between the EUand Russia: the death penalty and international transport corridors. Finally,Part 4 offers three different conclusions about possible trajectories for EU-Russian relations.Part 1: Russia and Europe, Historically SpeakingIn Iver Neumann’s chapter, “Russia’s Standing as a Great Power, 1494–1815,” he argues that international relations (IR) and social theory havegiven two accounts of why doubts lingered about Russia’s standing as a greatpower before the Napoleonic Wars. Realists treat great powerhood as a matterof having and being able to project material and especially military power,and this may account for why Russia was increasingly recognized, but notfor the lingering doubt. Constructivists focus on intersubjectivity betweenstates and stress the degree to which a power accepts a confluence of norms;this may explain some of the doubt. Neumann, however, offers a third andcomplementary account based on the concept of governmentality, whichfocuses on regime types and their representations by other powers. Whereasthis reading is something new in social theory and IR, Neumann points

Introduction ● 7out that a nontheorized prototype of it is fairly prominent in the work ofRussian historians.Hiski Haukkala analyses the historically changing parameters of Russia’slegitimate role in European international society from the NapoleonicWars until the end of the cold war in “A Norm-Maker or a Norm-Taker?The Changing Normative Parameters of Russia’s Place in Europe.” Heargues that the constitutive principles of European international societyhave varied and evolved over time. In essence, it has been the Great Powersthat have been in a position to condition Russia’s role in Europe. Most ofthe time, Russia has been the taker of European norms, and the end of thecold war represented the recontinuation of an older historical pattern, asonce again Russia has been asked to come knocking on Europe’s door. Thistime the difference is that European international society is more denselyinstitutionalized and normatively elaborated than ever, making the processof adaptation much more difficult and painful for Russia.Part 2: Russia and Europe: Making PolicyAlexander Sergunin, in “Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making onEurope,” focuses on how Russia’s foreign and security policies towardEurope have been made in the post-communist era. In particular, he highlightsthe powers, roles, and functions of actors and institutions participatingin the decision-making process. He examines both governmental andnongovernmental actors. He both assesses the effectiveness of the foreignpolicy and national security mechanism and explores the major problemsin its organization and functioning.Part 3: Russia and Europe: Relationship under ConstructionSinikukka Saari, in “Russia’s Creeping Challenge to European Norms: EuropeanCooperation and Abolition of the Death Penalty in Russia,” looksat the ways in which the European organizations—the EU, the Councilof Europe (CE), and the Organization for Security and Cooperation inEurope (OSCE)—promote human rights and liberal democratic norms inRussia, and how Russia has responded to these efforts. Through a detailedstudy of the promotion of abolition of the death penalty in Russia, Saaridescribes the cooperation between these organizations and Russia as oneof “form but not function.” Despite active, multilevel cooperation, actualresults have remained modest. Saari concludes that despite European efforts,Russia has not been socialized to the European norm of abolition of thedeath penalty. Russia has managed to negotiate more room to maneuver

8 ● Ted Hopfon the issue than other European states. Contrary to expectations ofthe constructivist socialization literature, Russia has gradually challengedthe applicability of the common European interpretation of the norm ofabolition of the death penalty to its case. Saari warns that if an exceptionto the general norm is granted to Russia, the normative base for Europeancooperation will be weakened. In the long run, this could have a negativeimpact on the legitimacy of European organizations in general.In “Pan-European/International Transport Corridors at the Conjunctionof Geography and Politics in Russia,” Katri Pynnöniemi explores thequestion of what happens when the basic understanding, shared widely inRussian discourse, that the sheer size of the country enhances its “standingin European and international politics is shifted, and a kind of gestalt shiftemerges that allows us to focus on a closely related but still very differentquestion: how does this ‘power’ come about?” Pynnöniemi argues thatpower is not something that is intrinsic to space or sovereign territoriality.It is emergent in the practices and infrastructures that change distance intoproximity, allowing us to traverse along a passage in and through time andspace. She reconstructs the connections between power and space throughthe analysis of the instances of language use. Speech act theory providesthe means of doing this, because it is positioned at the crossroads of theformal logic of practical reasoning and practices of language use in everydayaction, and thus provides a means of inquiry into not only what is meantby an utterance, but even more importantly, what is done with it at thatparticular moment, under those aspects, and in that particular context.Part 4: Russia and Europe: Three Possible ConclusionsChrister Pursiainen, in “Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations,” analyzes the possible trajectories of EU-Russian relationsbased on an exhaustive survey of available IR theory on the topic ofintegration. He argues that of all the efforts at regional integration, theEU’s efforts are generally regarded as the most successful and dynamic. Itis therefore no wonder that the majority of social and economic theoriesaiming at explaining regional integration processes are about European integration.As to the relationship between the EU and Russia, however, theseapproaches are rarely used to illustrate, explain, or predict the developmentof the relationship. By definition, theories of integration compete with eachother, especially when it comes to the question of causal factors or levels ofanalysis. Because of this, they are difficult to combine into a harmonizedapproach. However, they can still be discussed against the case of EU-Russian

Introduction ● 9relations in comparative perspective. What explains the development of theserelations? Are EU-Russian relations characterized by growing integration,or is it a question of mere intergovernmental cooperation in different fields?What are the future prospects for EU-Russian integration?Pursiainen discusses these questions from such perspectives as functionalism,federalism, neofunctionalism, intergovernmentalism, economic integrationtheories, the legal approximation approach, Marxist and interestgroup theories, institutionalism, constructivism, and transnational regionalism.He concludes that should one rely on these theories, the institutionalfuture of EU-Russian integration does not look very promising. Whilefor sure there will be more and more cooperation in different fields, withits ups and downs, the dilemma is that without supranational elements,traditional integration meets its limits rather soon. What would remain,in the best-case scenario, is some form of intergovernmental bargaining.Nevertheless in the longer run, the convergence of legal systems as well astransnationalization of capital and civil societies may well bring the societiescloser to each other through the general processes of globalization.Vadim Kononenko, on the other hand, critically engages with the verynotions of conflict and incompatibility in Russia-EU studies in “Boundariesof Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration: Rethinking ‘Conflict’ BetweenRussia and the EU.” He examines the concept of incompatibility and itsrole in research from three directions: (1) assumptions about sovereignty,territoriality, and borders; (2) assumptions about Russia-EU interaction;and (3) policies pertaining to the Russian-Ukrainian border. Kononenkopoints out the centrality of the notion of incompatibility in the analysis ofRussia-EU interaction and follows up the consequences and effects of it forscholarly interpretations of Russia-EU relations. Concerned with the idea ofreflection and an awareness of the normative choices in Russa-EU studies,Kononenko discusses the possiblilties of rethinking “conflict” and “incompatibility”in favor of plurality and ambiguity in reality and research.In the third possible conclusion, Sergei Medvedev explores the discursivefoundations of the current crisis in EU-Russia relations in “The Stalematein EU-Russia Relations: Between ‘Sovereignty’ and ‘Europeanization.’” Heargues that the problem lies in contrasting readings of sovereignty in Brusselsand in Moscow. The Kremlin is bent on Westphalian readings of “gosudarstvennost,”or stateness and promoting visions of a “sovereign democracy”and a strategy of bureaucratic centralization. Meanwhile, the EU pursues astrategy of Europeanization, seeking to transform nations and spaces along itsperimeter to its own image and liking. In deconstructing “Europeanization,”the chapter challenges conventional readings of the EU as a postmodern

10 ● Ted Hopfactor and argues that the EU’s external policy has embarked on an essentiallymodern strategy of “bureaucratic imperialism,” rooted in traditionalreadings of Westernness as goodness. The collision of two modernist projects,Moscow’s bureaucratic centralization and Brussels’s “bureaucratic imperialism,”is a key structural impediment in EU-Russia relations.

PART 1Russia and Europe,Historically Speaking

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CHAPTER 1Russia’s Standing as aGreat Power, 1494–1815 *Iver B. NeumannIntroductionNo doubt about it, Russia is a challenge. When observed from theWest, there is an economic and political incompatibility aboutthe place that spells fascination. Sometimes, this fascination turnsinto outright fear. We know about the immediate historical causes for this—the pangs of transition from communism to something else, communismitself being the nineteenth-century experience of keeping the ancien régimethat other European powers discarded one by one. These experiences certainlyaccount for the incompatibility. They do, nonetheless, raise a furtherquestion that has to do with our understanding of the roots of that incompatibility.It makes a difference whether the Russian empire was acceptedinto the European order on a par with other entities, only to slip away afterthe Napoleonic Wars, or whether Russia was really always different. In thischapter, I will try to answer this question by surveying Russia’s standingin Europe before the Napoleonic Wars. The story to be told is, first, oneof how Russia made its presence felt in the sixteenth and seventeenthcenturies, but not in a degree strong enough to be a presence as the modern* Thanks are due to the Institute for Human Sciences in Vienna, where, as a guest inDecember 2002, I commenced work on this piece. Thanks also to Kristian Gerner, HiskiHaukkala, Pål Kolstø, Ole Jacob Sending, Shogo Suzuki, William Wohlforth, and particularlyTed Hopf for comments on earlier drafts.

14 ● Iver B. NeumannEuropean system of states congealed into place. Secondly, it is the story ofhow Peter the Great established Russia as a power in the North, and how,during the eighteenth century, Russia was gradually accepted as a greatpower. In the extant literature, there is no consensus about when Russiaactually became a great power. For this reason, this chapter starts withan exegesis of the concept of “great power.” From early contacts betweenMuscovy and the Holy Roman Empire, through the rapid increase in contactduring and following Peter the Great’s reign, and finally during the Sovietperiod, Russia has often met the conditions for great-power status set outin rationalist and even constructivist treatises on great-power status. At allpoints, however, among European contemporaries, doubt has remainedabout Russia’s great-power standing. This suggests a residual that has notbeen adequately accounted for. I argue that this residual is rooted in a factorthat is read out by almost all International Relations (IR) literature, that onthe balance of power, namely as it relates to governance.The second section gives the background story of pre-Petrine contactsbetween Russia and Europe. Drawing on the first section, the third part ofthe chapter discusses the various claims that have been made about Russia’sstanding as a great power. I conclude that doubts remain about Russia’s greatpowerstanding that have to do with the emergence of differing models ofgovernance followed in Russia and in the West.The Case of MuscovyIn the standard work on early contacts between Russia and Europe, MarshallPoe (2000, 12–13) notes that “despite the lore of a long scholarly tradition,Russia was not ‘discovered’ by Europeans in the first quarter of the sixteenthcentury,” when early travelers like Sigismund von Herberstein arrived, forthere had been continuous contacts between the east Slavs and the politicalentities around the Baltic since the time of the Vikings, and there had alsobeen more scattered contacts with the continental powers. Poe also stresses,however, that “Muscovites knew little or nothing about ‘refined’ Europeancustoms before the early sixteenth century” (209–10), thus attesting tothe absence of a common body of practices for official encounters. Withthe weakening of the Byzantine Empire and the fragmentation of theMongol Golden Horde in the course of the fifteenth century, the east Slavswere able to strengthen their polities, to wage war, and to build symboliccapital by marriage (the most famous of these being Ivan II’s marriage toSophia Paleologue, the niece of the last Byzantine emperor). Muscovy senttraveling ambassadors first to Livonia, Sweden, and Lithuania in 1480 andthen in subsequent decades to Hungary, Moldavia, the Holy Roman Empire,

Russia’s Standing as a Great Power, 1494–1815 ● 15and Milan. Muscovy considered European diplomats potential spies, but theestablishment of formal contacts was not marked by the kinds of ceremonialcrises one finds, for example, in the European-Chinese encounters, wherethe Chinese demanded that everybody who was granted an audience shouldkowtow to the emperor, which proved a major and long-lasting stumblingblock. Although kowtowing (bit’ chelom) was ubiquitous in Russia, as ithad been at the court of the Golden Horde when Russian princes and theirrepresentatives had visited it (Zorin 1959, 140), there seem to be no recordedinstances of the tsar demanding that European envoys should be madesubject to it.Those early formal contacts were, nonetheless, not without their problems.In 1486, a noble knight by the name of Nikolai Poppel arrived inMoscow carrying a letter from the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick III.The Holy Roman Empire came to know Muscovy as a polity separatefrom the Polish-Lithuanian state. Upon Poppel’s return to the empire, hestarted to spread the word about the Russian state and about the riches andpower of its ruler. Here is the official Soviet diplomatic history’s version ofwhat ensued:In 1489, Poppel returned to Moscow, now already as the official agent of theEmperor of the Holy Roman Empire. In a secret audience he suggested to IvanIII that he should petition the Emperor to confer upon him the title of king.From the point of view of Western European political thought, this would bethe only means of legalising a new state and to introduce it into the commonsystem of European states—and at the same time place it in a certain state ofdependence on the Empire. But in Moscow, another point of view held sway.Ivan III answered Poppel with dignity: “By God’s grace, we are the ruler of ourland from the beginning, from the first of our ancestors, it has been given us byGod, and as it was for our ancestors, so it is for us.” (Zorin 1959, 262)Ivan III insisted on signing his written answer to the emperor with thetitle “Great Ruler of all of Rus’ by God’s grace,” with Rus’ being the nameof the polity, and for the next three generations, there ensued a tug-of-warbetween Russian and Western courts regarding titles. Already in 1508, Ivan’sson Vasiliy sent a letter to the emperor asking for an alliance in his war againstLithuania. In 1514 the emperor, somewhat belatedly, sent his envoy GeorgSchnitzenpaumer back with an encouraging letter in German. Instead ofwriting “tsar,” he wrote Kaiser. “Kaiser” may be translated back into Russianas Imperator, and so the letter was taken by the Russian court to mean thatthe emperor acknowledged Vasiliy as a fellow emperor. In Maximilian’s letterof August 4, 1514, however, where he confirmed an alliance against the

16 ● Iver B. NeumannLithuanian king Sigismund, there was no mention of the Russian king beinga kaiser. Russia was not satisfied in its quest for recognition as an empire. Ofcourse, further west, kings also struggled to establish themselves as being onpar with the Holy Roman Emperor. To pick but one example, under HenryVIII, England launched a campaign to be seen as an empire. The Russiantrajectory differs from the others in two key ways, however. First, the shiftfrom seeing the king’s body to seeing the territory of his state as the locus ofgovernment, which we can already see in England in the sixteenth century(empire, not emperor), was willfully held back. Second, Europe shifted awayfrom being accepted as an empire in the direction of being accepted as asovereign state. There were empires, but the logic of recognition revolvedaround the term sovereignty, or around terms like emperor or empire. Again,there was no such development in Russia, which continued to play the oldgame long after others had embarked on a new one.Contacts were also hampered by cultural practices. For example, Herbersteinnoted that non-Orthodox Christians were considered unclean. Thismeant that rank-and-file Muscovites had a reason to stay away from them,and that the aristocrats who did meet with them and followed the Europeancustom of shaking hands ritually washed themselves after the encounter.As late as the 1660s, when a number of European diplomats, soldiers, andmerchants had been invited to the realm, a key observer talked about theirseparate quarters as “the diseased parts of the state and the body politic”(Krizhanich, quoted in Poe 2000, 83). It was only during this decade thatambassadors were allowed to walk the streets of Moscow alone.Poe stresses that “nonetheless, the Russian authorities realized thatdiplomacy and mercantile relations with European powers were necessaryaccoutrements of great power status” (2000, 41). From the very beginning,then, where Russia should fit in the hierarchy was a bone of contentionbetween Russian and European rulers, with Russia in principle aiming fora top position. For the next two hundred years, which was the gestationperiod for the European states system, Russia was a peripheral presence. Itsresources were not plentiful enough to make it a presence on the continent,so there is no rationalist case for great-power status here. Constructivistswould highlight that the principle on which legitimacy and recognition wassought—divine kingly sovereignty over territory—was the same, and theywould also draw attention to the doubt that ensued on both sides aboutwhether the other party could be considered properly Christian. I wouldhighlight that Russia’s despotic regime marked it as “barbarous.” Eitherway, although Russia made a principled bid for great-power status, as seenfrom Europe, Russia was not a ranking power by any criterion used atthe time or indeed later. There were, however, cultural and organizational

Russia’s Standing as a Great Power, 1494–1815 ● 17borrowings during this period, and these were sped up and diversified underTsar Alexei (1645–76). Still, it was only during the reign of his son Peterthat Russia undertook a self-conscious European socialization process. After ashort lag—when the War of the Spanish Succession ended with the Treatyof Utrecht in 1713, Russia was still not among the signatory powers—Peterlaunched a campaign for Russian great power status.In 1993, Russia and Denmark celebrated the five-hundredth anniversaryof their diplomatic relations. The year 1493 is as good as any otheras a shorthand for the first formalization of diplomatic contacts betweenMuscovy and another Northern polity. A conventional year for the placingof Russian-English relations on a similar footing is 1553 (Anderson 1958).Richard Chancellor landed at the mouth of the River Dvina, carrying aletter from Edward VI of England addressed to “all kings, princes, rulers,judges, and governors of the earth, and all other having excellent dignitieon the same, in all places under the universall heaven” (quoted in Dukes1990, 1) The letter suggested that trade relations be established, giving asthe reason that God had placed things in different regions “to the ende thatone should have neede of another, that by this meanes friendship mightbe established among all men” (quoted in Dukes 1990, 1). Chancellor wasduly invited by the tsar to visit Moscow.Invariably, the hosts exposed these embassies to much more directtactics of impression management than those that regulated similar occasionswithin Roman Christendom. Under the chapter heading “Legatus adMoscoviam,” Poe notes that “Muscovite officials were quite suspicious offoreign envoys and thus took steps to ensure that they did not learn too muchabout Russian affairs or receive the ‘wrong’ impression of the tsar’s realm.Accordingly, visiting ambassadors were kept in special quarters, surroundedby officially appointed attendants, and discouraged from wandering aboutor engaging Muscovites in discussions. Moreover, the court presented visitingdiplomats with a variety of propagandistic rituals designed to emphasizethe authority of the tsar, the wealth of the realm, and the subservience of thepopulation” (2000, 40).Already from 1585 on, one may find an English merchant fulfilling anumber of functions that both we and contemporary observers would referto as councillary. That these functions were first taken care of by merchantsis in keeping with a general pattern that may be observed in a number ofdifferent places at different times. There was a degree of formalization of thisarrangement in 1623, which was followed by a break when Charles I wasexecuted. France tried to establish a residency in 1629, only to be rebuffed.There was a continuous Swedish presence from 1631 on, but it was onlyin the 1670s that the institution of resident presence became permanent.

18 ● Iver B. NeumannEven at this time, however, Brandenburg’s attempt at establishing a residencycame to naught (Zorin 1959, 316).In 1613 Michael was elected tsar and initiated the Romanov dynasty. Hisadministrative apparatus was rudimentary. Running business was handledmainly by a set of prikazy, or chancelleries, and decisions were mostly takenin the tsar’s privy council. A representative council, the boyar duma, met on aregular basis, and the zemskiy sobor met from time to time.Although the basic structure of the system—a political tension betweenthe tsar and the nobles and an administrative tension between an apparatusconsisting of offices and a group of councilors—was the same as thatof the other polities around the Baltic, the action capacity of Muscovy wasnot up to the level of the strongest of those other polities. Still, Muscovywas a distinct presence. In 1617, the reestablished polity concluded thePeace of Stolbovo with Sweden, and Gustavus Adolphus withdrew fromPskov and Novgorod. Russia, on the other hand, lost its access to the Balticcoast. The Peace of Stolbovo was concluded with the offices of the Netherlandsand England, and the latter’s envoy was present at the proceedings(Zorin 1959, 293). Russia’s dealing with other powers had now become amatter of major interest to key states. In 1618, Russia concluded an armisticewith Poland. By the eve of the Thirty Years’ War, which would provepivotal in melding the states around the Baltic and the states further southmore firmly into one system of states, Russia was established as a power. BothGustavus Adolphus and the Porte put out feelers for alliances against thePoles. Russia took an active role in supporting one party against another,among other things by providing Denmark with subsidized grain. The principleof legitimacy at this time was dynastic, which means that dynastic tiesand hence intermarriage patterns played a particularly important role whenit came to gauging how Russia fit into European political life. As part of theearly initial efforts by Russia to reach beyond the Baltic, an attempt was madeto forge ties with the Stuarts. As to the Baltic states, the Romanovs tried toupgrade their ties by proposing marriages. The first move by the Romanovsin the direction of intermarriage was made in 1642, when Tsar Michael senta special mission to Denmark to offer the hand of his daughter Irene to theson of Christian IV, Prince Waldemar. The instructions given to the envoysin Moscow must have seemed more than a little strange in Copenhagen:a customary overture to such negotiations, the delivery of a portrait, wasto be avoided with the explanation that the taking of portraits could bedangerous for the health of Russian princesses, who in any case were tobe viewed whether in the flesh or in effigy by close relatives only. The possibilityof Waldemar becoming one of the latter nearly foundered at the beginningof his determination to remain a Lutheran, and when he traveled to Moscow

Russia’s Standing as a Great Power, 1494–1815 ● 19on the understanding that he would not have to convert to Orthodoxy onlyto find his prospective father-in-law a fervent proselytizer, a stalemate ensuedthat kept the prince under close house arrest (Dukes 1990, 13).In the end, there was no marriage. What we see here is a court thatdoes not conform to established norms for marriage, that has not partakenin the sixteenth-century process of establishing cuius regio eius religio (thereligion of the subjects follows that of the king) as a baseline for how toget religious pluralism to dovetail with the reality of multiple sovereignties,and that does not acknowledge freedom of movement for visitingroyalty. With the Thirty Years’ War out of the way, the density of contactsbetween Muscovy and other polities increased. Official Soviet historiographyheld that “beginning from the mid-seventeenth century onwards, Russiaalready played a most important role in the political life of Eastern Europe,so that no international problem could any longer be solved without herparticipation” (Zorin 1959, 293). Even if this generalization was accepted,however, what was at stake at this time was no longer what had afterthe Thirty Years’ War become the regional issue of Baltic politics, but theEuropean-wide states system. This is implicitly accepted when the observationis made by Zorin about the attempt of the empire to influence thecourse of what has been called the First Northern War between Russia andPoland, which goes to show that the Russian-Polish conflict had at this timelost its local character and become a matter of all-European importance(Zorin 1959, 295).Anisimov concurs when he usefully sketches out a tripartite journeyinto international society that “the first step that Russia took into the Westphalianworld of international relations was its participation in the FirstNorthern War (1655–60), a step determined by the decision of 1654 on thesubjugation of the Ukraine. The next step was taken in 1686 by the EternalPeace with the Rech Pospolita [that is, Poland-Lithuania]” (1993, 23). Thisis not only due to the way both parties now largely proceeded to draw upthis treaty according to the general standard of the day but also becauseRussia at this time succeeded in its long struggle to form an alliance withkey powers (with the empire, Venice, Brandenburg, and Poland-Lithuaniaagainst the Porte). The third step, Anisimov argues, was taken hot on theheels of Peter’s Grand Embassy (1697–98), when he grasped the potential ofalliances for war against Sweden, Poland-Lithuania, and the Porte with statesthat his predecessors had considered untouchable for religious reasons. Hisfirst attempt at playing the alliance game failed, however, and the ensuingwar waged against the Porte was called to a halt at the Congress of Carlowitz(1698–99) without Russia being present.

20 ● Iver B. NeumannThese three steps all concern Russia’s maneuvering in the direction of amore central role within what by century’s end had become the Baltic subsystemof international society. These steps were, however, not followed upby increased recognition from the major polities making up the embryonicinternational society. An early example of Russia being recognized asa factor in a European disposition, but not being recognized as having adroit de régard (right of being taken into account), is Louis XIV’s campaignto put Jan Sobieski on the throne of Poland-Lithuania. Poland, andparticularly its Ukrainian part, was a key conduit between internationalsociety and Muscovy, as witnessed by the (characteristically lagging) translationof administrative literature. In the late 1670s, Russian overtures toPoland and Austria for help against the Porte failed, and in 1681, Russiahad to sign the humiliating Treaty of Bakhchisarai. Already at this time,however, Russia could muster an army of perhaps as many as two hundredthousand—six times as many as half a century earlier (Dukes 1990, 47).These forces were trained with the help of manuals translated from Westernlanguages by officers who were imported from the West. Translationswere first undertaken in the second half of the seventeenth century. Militarymanuals were among the first to be translated. A characteristic lagis evident in the pattern in which the powerful new administrative ethosof neostoicism spread across Europe. In the standard work on the topic,Gerhard Oestreich mentions Russia in his entry for Poland, which isreproduced here in toto: “We may gauge the enduring popularity of Lipsiusin Poland by the chronological spread of the translations. Such popularityis not surprising, seeing that the Jesuit order had great influenceover Polish education. As early as 1595 the Politics was translated by asecretary of King Sigismund III; a new edition came out in 1604. Onlya year before the outbreak of the French Revolution a translation of theMonita et exempla politica appeared. This work was also translated intoRussian in the eighteenth century” (Oestreich 1982, 102).Russians at this time held a deep skepticism about representations ofhumans. Throughout the pre-Petrine period, the tsars adamantly refused toput their personal signature on documents. All these treaties carry only theseal of the realm and the signature of a high official. Only Peter broke withthis habit when he put his signature to the treaty with Poland in 1698 (Zorin1959, 337–38). Granted, that diplomacy, and particularly the diplomacy ofthe European states system, is usually defined as written communication;this was of course a key problem. Furthermore, portraits were not taken,which was a problem in terms of the all-important game of connubium.The interface with Europe was also broadened by Michael granting to acouple hundred merchants (so-called guests, or gosti) a charter whereby they

Russia’s Standing as a Great Power, 1494–1815 ● 21were exempted from taxes and allowed to travel abroad. England was giventhe right to trade without paying duties, whereas the Dutch were requiredto pay only half duty (Dukes 1990, 2). These discriminatory moves are, inaddition to the feelers for alliances, examples of how Russia had begun toplay the different powers against one another, thus partaking in the workingof the system of states.The greater density of societal contacts between Russia and other politiesgenerated new dimensions for foreign policy. In 1649, outraged at the fate ofhis English brother-monarch and with his officials expressing concern aboutthe possibility that English subjects in Russia were spreading dangerous ideas,the tsar stripped English merchants of certain privileges and barred themfrom travelling from St. Petersburg to other cities in his realm. Russia refusedto acknowledge Cromwell’s republic, and the tsar kept inquiring about thehealth of Charles’s widow and even provided funds for the campaign of theirson to take what he saw as his rightful place on the throne (which, of course,duly happened). At this time, Russia also made a habit of delivering officialprotests about publications issued in foreign countries that they found to beslanderous to Russia. For example, it protested to Sweden about a pamphletpublished in Riga about the rebellion of Sten’ka Razin. In its 1650 treatywith Poland, Russia even succeeded in having a paragraph included that wasmeant to limit what could and could not be printed in Poland about the tsarand his state (Zorin 1959, 316, 349).By the end of the seventeenth century, there were two particular areas inwhich Russia’s distance from international society was still marked. 1 The firstwas its lack of permanent missions to other states. Russia seemed to havedecided to establish a permanent mission in Sweden in 1634, but it onlylasted for one and a half years and was not renewed. It therefore came toappear much like an old-style embassy that could often last for one, two, oreven three years. Instead of permanent residencies, Russia fell back on a formof representation that had similarities with the ancient Greek proxenos systemas well as with the present system of honorary consuls when, in 1660, theygave the English citizen Sir John Hebdon the title comissarius to England andthe Netherlands. Russia’s first fully fledged resident thus became Vasiliy Tyapkin,who took up residency in Poland from 1673 to 1677. Once Peter was onthe throne, permanent missions became the rule. He sent an “extraordinaryand plenipotentiary ambassador” to the Netherlands in 1699, a “resident”to Sweden in 1700, a “minister” to Vienna in 1701, and so on (Zorin 1959,344). Peter encouraged the European powers to establish permanent representationsin St. Petersburg, and he himself established such missions in Paris,London, Berlin, Vienna, Dresden, Stockholm, Copenhagen, and Hamburg(Dukes 1990, 105).

22 ● Iver B. NeumannThe second area where cultural difference was considerable concerned theintense jealousy with which Russia guarded court procedures, as hosts andas guests. In an age marked by elaborate and hierarchical court ritual, Russiastill stood out for the tenacity with which it guarded every conceivable aspectof meetings between the tsar and foreign envoys and the display of hierarchy.This would begin at the border, where an embassy would be met andescorted to the capital. Once on Russian soil, he would be presented with aliberal amount of food and drink (korm). This made for a problem in termsof reciprocity when this way of treating foreign envoys gradually changed inthe West. When reaching the capital, the visitor would be paraded in by aninfantry escort, music was played, and people would throng the streets. However,no formal contact between the visiting envoy and Russians was allowedto ensue before their envoy had been received by the tsar. It was the orderof the day that visiting diplomats were ranked according to the perceivedimportance of the courts that they represented. In Russia, however, the tsarwas extremely discriminate in his use of the term “brother” to refer to othermonarchs. On occasion he would only receive the envoys of the most powerfulstates, leaving it to the diplomatic chancellery to take care of the rest.The Vasa kings of Sweden were held to be particularly lowly, of the order ofvassals; and in the early years, the tsar tried to put an end to direct contactand to instead channel relations through the envoy from Novgorod. The discriminatingpractice of receiving only those held to be representatives of themost powerful states continued until the middle of the eighteenth century(see Zorin 1959, 370).Once he did meet them, it happened according to a set procedure. Onepart of this procedure that caused continuous resentment up until Peter’stime was that envoys were not allowed to carry their swords for receptions.Another was the procedure by which Christian envoys were required to kissthe tsar’s hand, only to watch as he immediately washed his hands in a silverbowl that was held forth for him for this purpose. The official reason givenfor this was cleanliness, but this explanation was not accepted. 2 There werealso incidents over specifics, for example in 1566, when the Lithuanian representativerefused to step down from his horse and walk up to greet the tsar.On formal occasions, the tsar would receive the corps diplomatique sitting onhis throne in full robes (v bol’shom naryade): golden caftan, with Monomakh’shat on his head, orb and sceptre in hand. Around the throne, there would beyouths in white caftans, golden hatchets in hand. Boyars would be presentto entertain the hosts. The choreography obviously owed much to Byzantinemores (see Neumann 2006), but also to the reports given by the Russianenvoys who had journeyed West.

Russia’s Standing as a Great Power, 1494–1815 ● 23The tsars’ envoys were forbidden, sometimes on pain of death, from formallymeeting any representative of the state to which they were sent beforethey had been received by its head. Since the Western rule was that such areception was precipitated by dinners hosted by noblemen en route to andalso in the capital, as well as talks with officials of the court, this createdtensions. By the same token, Russian envoys insisted on personally handingdocuments from the tsar to the king, to whom it was addressed, rather thanto an official of the court. The insistence on the personal contact and theadversary relationship to intervening bureaucratic layers was a thoroughlycomplicating factor for Russian embassies. Furthermore, the Russian envoyusually insisted on seeing the king without there being other envoys present.Since this demand was often widened to block the king receiving otherenvoys on the same day, the key factor here again seems to have been markingrank, not security. Once receptions did take place, the envoys were notactually trusted with negotiations, just with relaying information, whichmeant that suggestions or even questions were usually answered with the setphrase, “we will also ask the Great Tsar about that, when, God willing, we seehim ourselves” (“i my o tom skazhem ego tsarskomy velichestvy, kak, bog dast,uvidim ego svetlye ochi”). During the reception, the Russian envoy wouldnot only insist on reading out all the tsar’s titles, which was in accordancewith general diplomatic practice, but would also object to points of order,such as when the receiving king bared his head. For example, during P. I.Potemkin’s visit to the Spanish king in 1687, the king took off his hat whenPotemkin greeted him on bended knee but kept it on while Potemkin readout the tsar’s titles. Potemkin objected, and there was an incident.To sum up, from its emergence in the late fifteenth century and throughoutthe seventeenth century, Russia considered itself great on transcendentaland moral grounds; the tsar and his country simply had a superior tie toGod. The problem, however, was that this self-understanding was not sharedby any other political entity. Russia’s claim to being a power of the firstrank (anachronistically, a “great power”) was noted, but not taken seriously.Powers were ranked within a tightly scripted ritual-based system. Russia keptto other rituals; hence it simply was not a player. Russia’s material resourcesdid not allow for much projection beyond its own borders, which meantthat there were no other grounds to take cognizance of it, either. Russiawas excluded on the grounds that its Christianity was strange (importanteven in the midst of strong Catholic-Protestant skirmishes) and that it was adespotic regime—that is, its system of governance was uncivilized.

24 ● Iver B. NeumannPeter’s Century:Russia and the Other Anciens RégimesDrawing on rationalist arguments, historians universally stress the role ofthe Great Northern War (1701–21) in establishing Russia as a central playerin international society. It was this war that broke out on the eve of the newcentury that really brought Russia in. 3 Paul Kennedy (1988, 96) holds thatRussia and Prussia added themselves to France, the Habsburg Empire, andBritain at the end of the Great Northern War. In 1721, “an exhausted,isolated Sweden finally had to admit to the loss of most of its Balticprovinces in the 1721 Peace of Nystad. It had now fallen to the secondorder of powers, while Russia was in the first.” (Kennedy 1988, 96) PaulDukes holds that Russia “joined Europe at the beginning of the eighteenthcentury” and that Poltava was “the cause of Russia’s wider recognitionthroughout Europe” (Dukes 1990, 72, 112). The official Soviet diplomatichistory makes no specific comment on this, but it nods indirectly in thisdirection by noting that, as Peter laid the plans for his Northern campaign,“the international situation in Europe seemed to be favorable for therealization of these plans. Western Europe’s strongest powers—France, England,Austria and the Netherlands—were busy preparing for the War ofthe Spanish Succession and were not able to meddle in the struggle aroundthe Baltics” (Zorin 1959, 337). Anisinov argues that “the end of the GreatNorthern War in 1721 registered not only the collapse of Sweden as a greatworld power but the appearance in its place of a new empire, the Russian”empire (Anisinov 1993, 25).It is clear that Peter’s reign marked a tremendous upsurge in Russia’sstanding. Drawing on English diplomatic correspondence, Janet Hartley(2001) demonstrates just how quick and thorough the change in other states’assessment of Russia under Peter was. For example, on the eve of his greatembassy to the West, the English undersecretary of state in the Hague hadwritten to William Trumbull, secretary of state, that “towards the end ofthe week we are to expect ye Empr & his Rabble here. . . . It were to bewishd the Czar loving ye Sea as he does, might discover ye North passage (ifthere be any such) into Persia, which would be a real advantage that wouldjustify his ramble” (quoted in Hartley 2001, 54). Hartley rightly observesthat during the next two decades, that is, “both during and after the GreatNorthern War . . . Britain attempted to restrain Russian ambitions throughthe formation of coalitions against her, which is itself indicative of a newrespect for Russian power” (Hartley 2001, 61–62). The leading eighteenthcenturyhistorian Hans Bagger even argues that “the Peace of Nystadt on30 August 1721 confirmed the position that Russia had attained as a great

Russia’s Standing as a Great Power, 1494–1815 ● 25power during the Great Northern War. . . . As a consequence of its new statusas a great power, Russia became a European state insofar as the RussianEmpire had to be incorporated into the system of European internationalrelations” (1993, 36). Bagger’s point is that Russia’s predominance in whatwas known as the equilibrium of the North, combined with its strengthvis-à-vis Austria and Turkey, was enough for it to “shake the overall equilibriumof Europe,” and so “the courts of Europe could no longer ignore Russiaas a semibarbarian state” but had to take it into account (1993, 36). Thisis true, but neither Bagger nor anyone else has demonstrated that Russia,at this time, had resources on a par with or was indeed a fixation in themilitary dispositions of the key Continental powers (as opposed to Northernones). On rationalist scores, doubt must remain about Russia’s greatpowerstatusin the early eighteenth century. Despite pleas from its Swedishally, for example, Lord Bolingbroke, who was secretary of state for theBritish Northern Department at the time, did not take Russia all that seriously(Warner 2001). Charles Whitworth, who had served as minister bothin Russia and in Prussia, noted in internal correspondence in 1722 that“the Czar may be a Bug-Bear to his Neighbours; But neither his Power, norDesigns can immediately affect Great Britain” (quoted in Hartley 2001,64–65).Furthermore, note that Bagger explicitly brackets how Russia was stillclassified as semibarbarian (as opposed to civilized) when he confers greatpowerstatus upon it. The tension identified by Bagger, where Russiais concerned, between clear military potential on the one hand and a deficiencyon the civilizational level on the other mirrors the tension in the IRtheorizing of great-power status established above. Furthermore, Bagger producesa quote from Russian Vice-Chancellor Peter Shafirov to demonstratethat Russian statesmen themselves perceived the situation in similar if notless pejorative terms. Due to Peter’s “transformation of Russia,” Shafirovwrote, the European powers now sought out Russia as an ally, “despitethe fact that a few decades ago, in the states of Europe people thoughtand wrote of the nation and state of Russia in the same way as they did ofthe Indian, Persian and other nations . . . [that had] no intercourse withEurope whatsoever, apart from a little trade” (Shafirov 1973, 1–10, quoted inBagger 1993, 37). Shafirov, furthermore, was keenly aware of the limitsbeyond which Western recognition did not stretch: “We know very well thatthe greater part of our neighbours view very unfavourably the good positionin which it has pleased God to place us; that they would be delightedshould an occasion present itself to imprison us once more in our earlierobscurity and that if they seek our alliance it is rather through fear and

26 ● Iver B. Neumannhate than through feelings of friendship” (Shafirov to a French colleaguein 1721, quoted in Dukes 1990, 77).Crucially, as seen by this key Russian statesman, Russia had the materialpower but lacked the social mores required to be fully recognized. Shafirovwould turn out to be the first in a long series of Russians who saw things thisway. Shafirov’s view was, furthermore, typical for his day, and it bears outvery well the limitations of material resources as a measure of great-powerstatus. Russia had the necessary resources and had proven itself in battleagainst an already recognized great power, but that was not sufficient tobe recognized as a suitable alliance partner. It follows that, on constructivistcriteria, where recognition is seen as intersubjective, it is impossible to acceptthe assessment held by so many historians that Russia was acknowledgedas a great power following the Great Northern War. When Peter celebratedhis victory in 1721 by taking the title of emperor (Imperator, referringto the Schnitzenpaumer correspondence as precedence), this was roundlyresented, particularly by the Habsburgs (see Nekrasov 1972). 4 Althoughother Northern powers were relatively quick to acknowledge the new title(the exception was Poland, which waited until 1764), Austria and GreatBritain did not do so before 1742, and France only in 1744 (Florinsky1955, 353).An added constructivist argument against Russian great-power status inthe early eighteenth century concerns the key alliance-forming practice of theday. Dynasticism spelled connubium as a criterion, and Peter tried to marryinto the kingly houses of Europe. Russia was certainly actively involved, butit did not succeed in intermarrying with the other leading royal houses of itsday, targeting instead other Northern powers. In 1724, Peter married off hisdaughter Anna Petrovna to the duke of Holstein-Gottorp on Swedish behest.In 1745, Elizabeth received feelers from Charles Edward Stuart, pretenderto the British throne, but these came to naught. As late as the century’s end,when Paul tried to marry off his daughter to the king of Sweden, the projectstill ran aground on the issue of religion. On constructivist criteria, an initialassessment is that we should be wary about Russia’s great-power statusduring the period of the anciens régimes.During the sixty years following the Great Northern War, Russiabecame gradually more successful in being recognized as a worthwhile ally,a power entitled to participation in peace settlements and a power mentionedin treaties as a guarantor of the peace. Russia attended its first peacecongress at Soissons in 1728–30 (Bagger 1993, 52). In 1732, Russia concludedan alliance with Prussia and Austria, codified in the Berlin Treaty.In the War of the Polish Succession, Russia, by dint among other things of

Russia’s Standing as a Great Power, 1494–1815 ● 27having fielded an army about thirty thousand men strong, was definitely aplayer. Russia was conspicuously absent from the peace settlement, however(Craig and George 1990, 24). But come the Seven Years’ War (1756–63,known in the United States as the French and Indian War), Russia wasa key player in the basic change in alliance patterns that precipitated thewar. On the rationalist criterion of objective resources and systems-widereach, this is when Russia became a great power: “By the Seven Years Warthe Russian army was the largest in Europe, the establishment aimed for atits commencement consisting of 162,430 men in field regiments, 74,548garrison troops, 27,758 men in the landmilitsiia, 12,937 members of thecorps of engineering and artillery, and 44,000 irregulars” (Dukes 1990,129). The Seven Years’ War seems to be an important breaking point alsoin the sense that Russia seemingly restrained its military campaign short ofcrushing Prussia in order to keep that state in a shape where it could play acontinuing important part in the working of the balance of Europe. Russia,in other words, had entered into the management of the states system to theextent of downplaying immediate interests for what was held to be morelong-term ones. Note that the Seven Years’ War is also the period whenthe term “great powers” emerges. We have found no indication that theshift from talking of powers of the first rank to talking about great powersis related to the tentative entry of Russia into the category, however.During the following decades, Russia also fulfilled the added rationalistcriterion of being a great responsibility of the system. This factor is treatedas crucial by the so-called English School of International Relations. Inthis regard, Adam Watson (1985, 70) points to Empress Elizabeth’s secretnegotiations with the heads of France and Austria in 1760 as the crucial date.Certainly, by dint of the role Russia played in all three of Poland’s partitions,this criterion was firmly fulfilled by century’s end. If 1760 was an informalbreakthrough, the Treaty of Teschen concluded in 1779 was a formal oneinasmuch as it became for the first time a guarantor power. The importanceof Teschen has been underlined particularly by German historians such asHellmann (1978) and Oestreich who writes thatJoseph tried to round off his Austrian territory by acquiring Bavaria and soto effect a notable shift of power within the Empire. Frederick opposed him;he appealed to Russia, who joined with France in guaranteeing the Peace ofTeschen, which ended the War of the Bavarian succession. In this way thegreat power of Eastern Europe became obliged to defend the status quo inthe Empire. The rise of Russia had taken place in the eighteenth century:she had stood united with the imperial army of Prince Eugene on the Rhinein 1735, and in the Seven Years War she had fought to crush Prussia and

28 ● Iver B. Neumannplundered Berlin. From now on Russia was a card to be watched in the gamefor internal unity [of Austria]. (Oestreich 1982, 255)The official Soviet diplomatic history stresses how Russia’s conventionwith Turkey from 1783, as well as developments in the Law of the Sea, gaveRussia a practical role in the formation of international law—definitelyanother breakthrough in terms of managing the system (Zorin 1959, 369).By century’s end, Russia was a fully fledged participant in the formationof alliances. For example, in 1780, Russia was a member of the League ofArmed Neutrality, which also counted Denmark and Portugal. Twenty yearslater, a successor was formed, now consisting of Russia, Denmark, Sweden,and Prussia. In 1800, the new Russian emperor Paul ordered the Collegeof Foreign Affairs to draw up a comprehensive analysis of Russia’s currentstanding and future prospects in terms of foreign policy. In the report, thecollege characterized Russia as “the world’s leading power,” a “Hercules”(Bagger 1993, 60).To a political realist, there is no doubt that Russia was a great powerby century’s end. On constructivist criteria as well, the socialization intothe states system that had taken place would appear to be strong enoughfor Russia to qualify. There remained no doubt about its Christian credentials;the principle of legitimacy was the same as in the other powers;and dynastic intermarriages had become common. How, then, shouldwe account for the ubiquitous European complaints about Russia’s lackof civility and the continuing doubt about the extent to which it shouldbe considered to be of Europe? (Being a great power and being Europeanare different, correct?) Russia was still not seen as weighing heavily in thescales of civilization, as when David Hume complained that “the two mostcivilized nations, the English and French, should be in decline; and thebarbarians, the Goths and the Vandals of Germany and Russia, should bein power and renown” (quoted in Horn 1945, 18–19). Variants of thiscomplaint were heard in other forms and in other arenas. For example, in1804, the French ambassador Hédouville complained to his foreign ministerTalleyrand that “there is no other foreign court where the diplomatic corpsis less informed on political dispositions and proceedings than here” (quotedin Grimsted 1969, 19).We may answer this question by turning away from the problematicof order and toward that of governance. This allows us to highlight twofactors. First, as underlined by Frederick the Great and other contemporarypoliticians, Russia was regarded as a less successful police state thanothers. The capacity for state action was less efficient and more limited.

Russia’s Standing as a Great Power, 1494–1815 ● 29Hamilton and Langhorn (1995: 74) highlight how Peter’s reforms alsoembraced the state apparatus: A “new college of foreign affairs was established,and unlike some of Tsar Peter’s reforms survived a period of near chaos afterhis death and grew to have 261 members at the accession of Catherine theGreat in 1762. The college had a president, vice-president and two chancerycouncillors at its establishment, and during the eighteenth century steadilylost its responsibilities for internal provincial (also Central Asian) administration,ecclesiastical administration, for tax gathering and for the postalsystem, which was separated in 1782.” The result was that, as late as at theeve of the nineteenth century, “compared to the smaller and more efficientforeign offices of many other European powers, the Russian ministry countedon its rolls an extraordinary large number of officials, from those of higherranks to clerks, codifiers, translators, and copyists. The exact number of menfunctioning at a given time is almost impossible to ascertain because the rollslisted many persons who rarely or never served” (Grimsted 1969, 26).Second, the order-centered discussion of Russia so far has not takennotice of the eighteenth-century process discussed above, whereby inEurope, societies emerged and states changed their way of handling societiesfrom direct rule to indirect governance. In Europe, this period sawthe gradual emergence of liberal forms of governing that replaced thoseof the police state, and society gradually replaced territory as the objectof reference for governing. Beginning in Britain, liberalism understood asconcrete social practice firmed its grip. Russia eventually had to take cognizanceof the change. In summing up Catherine the Great’s reign, BruceLincoln places the emphasis on Russia’s “status as a Great Power” as a causeof changes in Russia’s social policy, imposing an imperative for civil peace,which again imposed heightened efficiency in the Russian administration.Lincoln then adds another factor that added to this imposition, namely thata number of young Russian bureaucrats held that, to a Europe dominatedby Enlightenment thinking, “the pre-modern military and fiscal concerns ofMuscovite tsars confirmed poorly to the image of a Great Power that theirsovereigns hoped to project. To be sure, Russia’s military needs continuedgreater than ever [sic], but, as a Great Power, she also must exhibit someproper concern for her citizens” (Lincoln 1982, 3; compare 175).To paraphrase, a new ethos of what governing a state entailed was settinga new standard not only for what a state had to be in order to be consideredwell ordered but also, and as a corollary, for which states should be consideredgreat powers. Liberalism formulated an imperative whereby lettinggo of the state’s direct control of society was becoming a necessity not onlyfor reasons of efficiency (producing a surplus that could feed state need,

30 ● Iver B. Neumannincluding a military capacity) but also and more fundamentally for reasonsof conforming to a new Europe-wide standard of governance (the need toappear “normal”). Given nineteenth-century European thought’s penchantfor thinking about world history in terms of stages taking place in the sameorder and leading to the same goal, furthermore, the lack of normality wasread more specifically as an insufficiently quick civilizational development. 5Russia was a laggard learner and, in this sense, inferior.ConclusionHiski Haukkala’s chapter in this book covers the post-Napoleonic periodfrom the vantage point of constructivism. At Vienna, Russia’s role as greatpower was institutionalized, most conspicuously in its being among the fivepowers that were given the right to have ambassadors plenipotentiary andextraordinary.From its emergence in the late fifteenth century and throughout the seventeenthcentury, Russia considered itself great on transcendental and moralgrounds. The problem was that this self-understanding was not shared byany other political entity. Russia’s claim to great-power status was notedbut not recognized. Russia was excluded on the grounds that its variety ofChristianity was strange and that it had an uncivilized system of governancethat was seen as despotic. As Russia’s ability to project itself grew, epitomizedby its victory over what was considered the first-rank power of Sweden in1721, European rulers came more directly up against Russian claims aboutparity or superiority to their own, and certainly different, governing structures.I hypothesized that it was the lack of social power to have these governingstructures accepted that accounts for Russia’s lingering problems in beingrecognized as a great power. I gave as a symptomatic quote in this regardRussian Vice-Chancellor Peter Shafirov’s view that due to Peter the Great’s“transformation of Russia,” the European powers now sought out Russia asan ally but that “if they seek our alliance it is rather through fear and hatethan through feelings of friendship” (Shafirov to a French colleague in 1721,quoted in Dukes 1990, 77).This analysis seems to have bearings on the present-day situation. Beginningin the late 1980s, post-Soviet leaders themselves began to identify theroot cause of their uneasiness vis-à-vis the West in civilizational terms. Oneof the key slogans of the perestroika period was the need to “rejoin civilization,”a slogan that logically implied that the Soviet path had somehow ledRussians away from it (Neumann 2005; compare Haukkala’s chapter in thisbook). With the fall of communism, the official Russian self-understandingof the Soviet past came to blame a mistaken system of governance for the

Russia’s Standing as a Great Power, 1494–1815 ● 31lingering problems in what was frequently referred to as the civilized world.For example, when Vladimir Putin addressed the nation at the millennium,he said,Soviet power did not let the country develop a flourishing society which couldbe developing dynamically, with free people. First and foremost, the ideologicalapproach to the economy made our country lag increasingly behind(otstavanie) the developed states. It is bitter to admit that for almost sevendecades we travelled down a blind ally, which took us away from the main trackof civilization . . . The experience of the 1990s vividly shows that the genuineand efficient revival of our Fatherland cannot be brought about on Russian soilsimply by dint of abstract models and schemata extracted from foreign textbooks.The mechanical copying of the experiences of other states will not bringprogress. . . . Russia will not soon, if ever, be a replica of, say, the U.S. or GreatBritain, where liberal values have deep-seated traditions. For us, the state, withits institutions and structures, always played an exclusively important role inthe life of the country and its people. For the Russian (rossiyanin), a strong stateis not an anomaly, not something with which he has to struggle, but, on thecontrary, a source of and a guarantee for order, as well as the initiator and mainmoving force of any change. Contemporary Russian society does not mistakea strong and effective state for a totalitarian one. 6This may be read as a plea for recognition of great-power status on newterms, namely those of democracy and market economy. Ostensibly, this isa liberal model. But note that the Russian leader, like both IR theory andpolitical theory, is trapped within a problematic of order, with a strong stateappearing as the guarantor of the system of governance. The problem is thatthe model of governance that Russia pledges to implement here runs directlyagainst a key liberal trend, where the question is always how the state maygovern less. Putin’s view of what a state should do is the exact opposite. TheRussian state should rule in direct fashion, not govern from afar. What thismeans is that Russia is once again evolving a rationality of government thathas firm precedents in Western Europe but that has, at the time of Russia’sadopting it, been left behind by Western European states themselves.One corollary of evolving a different rationality of government is that thespecific social practices to which those rationalities give rise will differ. Andindeed, notable differences exist between Russia and Western Europe regardingownership, freedom of contract, judiciary and penal practices, healthadministration, and a whole swath of other practices. Another corollary isthat, as seen from Western Europe, Russia is once again rigged with a systemof governance that jeopardizes its possible standing as a great power.

32 ● Iver B. NeumannRussia’s standing as a great power must be in serious doubt. Russia’s nucleararsenal and what a realist would judge to be its sphere of influence in CentralAsia count in its favor. So does the size of its armed forces, but the weightof this factor evaporates if we correlate for quality of personnel and equipment.As seen by its inability to use military power efficiently and effectively,most conspicuously in Chechnya, Russia falls short of a key criterion usedby realists, namely, an ability to project military power that is on par with(other) great powers. It also falls short of most other material criteria suchas technological innovation, not to mention size of population and of grossnational budget.Russia ostensibly shares a moral purpose and a whole string of normswith the system’s (other) leading powers. It is one of five permanent membersof the UN Security Council, and, following the demise of the SovietUnion, it became a member of the G7, making it the G8. It is also amember of key international institutions such as the World Trade Organization(WTO) and partakes in a whole gamut of international regimes.It remains a fact, however, that Russia’s membership portfolio is patchy,with key economic institutions lacking and the overall total of institutionaland regime memberships being considerably smaller than, for example,that of France. Furthermore, it is a recurrent theme of the literature onRussia’s role within international organizations such as the UN system orwithin regimes such as those in the area of human rights that Russia tends towield its influence by veto rather than by initiative. It rarely plays a leadingrole within these institutions. These observable facts all sow doubt about thedegree to which Russia actually does share a moral purpose with the otherpowers in the system.I have argued that we may account for the Russian lack of “socialization”on the international level by taking into account social practices and thesystem of governance in particular. I have highlighted how professionalproducers of knowledge about Russia outside the discipline of IR, most notablyhistorians, have stressed this factor. Finally, regarding state practice itself,I have given a number of examples that historically, European statesmenand diplomats were quite explicit about the way in which they wielded thecriterion of government in sizing up Russia. It seems to me that this practicecontinues. In order to account adequately for why Russia has been seen to bea great-power manquée, even at the apex of its material power in the 1810sor 1940s, we need to look beyond the question of moral purpose, towardthe concrete and underlying question of in what degree Russian governanceand Russian governmentality are compatible with the versions that dominatein global politics at any one given time. I conclude that, even if Russia may

Russia’s Standing as a Great Power, 1494–1815 ● 33currently be said to have adequate resources to count as a great power, toshare in the management of the system and to share a principle of legitimacywith other great powers, all of which are in some doubt, Russia’s standing isstill in doubt due to its professed system of governance.If this argument has merit, then it suggests that the overall research agendaof students of International Relations needs updating. During its heydey inthe nineteenth century, liberalism posed the question of great-power statusin terms of a “standard of civilization.” Liberalism came to dominate insuch a degree that this became the “natural” way in which to discuss globalpolitics. At present, neoliberalism imposes a similar discursive order by bringingto bear a set of criteria in global politics that centers on governance. Likeliberalism in an earlier era, it is rapidly emerging as the “natural” way todiscuss global political questions such as the relative standing of powers. Theissue of compatible rationalities of government is at the heart of strugglesover globalization and system transformation. In a number of discourses (forexample, that on development or on women’s rights), neoliberal standardsfor what should be considered good governance have become dominant longsince and are already well described empirically and thoroughly theorized. Itis high time that scholars working within the field of International Relationsget rid of their presuppositions about the nonimportance of social factorsfor state relations and begin to note that the rise of hegemonic neoliberalismis relevant for other discourses on global politics, such as the one on greatpowerstatus, as well.Notes1. The following paragraphs are based on Zorin 1959, 303–18, except whereotherwise indicated.2. And rightly so; the case in point seems to have been a taboo on contact withinfidels, for (a) non-Christians were not allowed to kiss the tsar’s hand at all, (b)nobles who dined with foreign guests were sometimes observed washing theirhands afterwards, and (c) in 1588 the Russian envoy to the Persian shah causedan incident by refusing to kiss the shah’s foot (Zorin 1959, 306).3. New century indeed: “Time itself was made to recognize the grandiose ideas forchange that the Tsar had developed during the Great Embassy, as the calendarwas adapted for the year to begin on 1 January rather than 1 September and tobe numbered from the birth of Christ rather than the supposed creation of theworld” (Dukes 1990, 69).4. There is a parallel here to reactions when Ivan III and Ivan IV declared themselvestsars.

34 ● Iver B. Neumann5. Note that the thinking in civilizational terms was not specific to liberalism butwas representative of the entire nineteenth century (cf. Haukkala’s chapter inthis book for examples of how a radical like Karl Marx and conservative likeFriedrich List were at one in holding Russia to be lacking in civilization).6. http://www.government.gov.rus/government/minister/article-vvp1.html(accessed February 14, 2001). For an analysis, see Neumann 2005.

CHAPTER 2A Norm-Maker or a Norm-Taker?The Changing Normative Parametersof Russia’s Place in Europe *Hiski HaukkalaIntroductionIn the post–cold war era, the main prism through which Russia’s placein Europe has been probed in the academic debate has been that ofidentity. 1 In this book, Iver Neumann’s treatment shows in this vein howRussia has sought recognition for its own representations of its great powerhood(see also Ringmar 2002, which discusses the same issues in the contextof the Soviet Union). This chapter treads another, complimentary pathof analyzing how Russia’s place in Europe—and consequently its roomfor maneuver both internally as well as externally—has been conditionednot only by ideational but by material factors as well. As such, the mostrecent post–cold war period can be seen merely as the latest stage in thelonger historical pattern of the evolving normative constitution of Europeaninternational society and Russia’s relationship with that “Europe.”A caveat is in order here as “Europe” as a concept is of course of ratherrecent origin, and as a political entity (in the form of the European Union)is still—and in all likelihood will also remain—a work in progress. Beforethe eighteenth century, Europe was merely a geographical expression, and itsinhabitants thought of themselves as members of the wider Christian community(Jackson 1999, 435–38). It was only in the nineteenth century after* I want to thank Harto Hakovirta, Mika Harju-Seppä, Ted Hopf, Iain Lauchlan, MarkoLehti, Arkady Moshes, Iver Neumann, and Tiina Tarvainen for helpful comments andcriticism on earlier drafts of this chapter.

36 ● Hiski Haukkalathe Congress of Vienna that “Europe” was taken to mean a collectivity inwhose name the Great Powers could act and take decisions. Paradoxically forRussia, Tsar Alexander I was instrumental in creating the notion of Europe asa diplomatic entity (Watson 1985b, 72).This chapter traces and reconstructs developments from the beginning ofthe nineteenth century when Russia emerged for the first time as a preponderantEuropean power to the end of the cold war 2 . The tale that follows isone of the evolving constitution of European international society and theplace of Russia in that process. More specifically, it is a narrative that seeksto reconstruct the development of Russia’s legitimate role in Europe. On thenormative side of things, without brief exceptions, Russia has almost neverbeen able to engage herself in devising these parameters. Usually it has beenEurope—or to be more precise, the Great Powers in Europe—that has setthe terms with regard to Russia’s legitimate place on the continent. To a greatextent, the relationship has been asymmetrical, with the power, values, andideologies of the European powers being imposed on Russia (Lieven 2003, ix).Thus having largely been excluded from the processes where parameters forlegitimate actorness in Europe have been drawn, most of the time it has beenthrough her power—what LeDonne (1997, 348) has called “the permanentforward movement” between 1700 and 1917—that Russia has forced herway into European politics and the evolving web of institutions in Europe.It is indeed within international institutions—which, following Robert O.Keohane can be defined as “persistent and connected sets of rules (formaland informal) that prescribe behavioral roles, constrain activity, and shapeexpectations” (1989, 3)—that the two key concepts of this chapter, ideas andpower, come together and form the evolving normative parameters as wellas the actual practices that construct and constrain Russia’s legitimate role inEurope. As will be argued here, historically this role has varied significantly.The Development of European International SocietyOne should not assume that examining Russia’s role as a European poweris a straightforward business. Even less should we expect that the changingparameters that have been set for that role have been entirely—or even atall—rational. As Martin Malia (1999, 7–8) has argued, the West’s sense ofdifference from Russia has fluctuated dramatically over time, and the qualityof these perceptions, ranging from demonizing to divinizing, has to asubstantial degree been influenced by the endogenous processes within theWest that have had nothing to do with the “objective” or “real” characteristicsof Russia itself (the fluctuation of Russia’s fortunes over time has been aptlycaptured in Watson 1985b, 61). But before we can discover Russia’s place in

A Norm-Maker or a Norm-Taker? ● 39well (Halliday 1994, 112; for a fuller discussion, see chapters 5 and 10 inhis book). This homogeneity differs from Waltzian neorealism by beingmore profound than just the similarity existing between functionally alikeunits (cf. Waltz 1979, 96–97). It also goes beyond the theoretical reachof the English School that sees the commonality existing only in the formof common culture at the level of international society, with the quality andnature of the domestic arrangements remaining apart from the homogeneityof international norms and practices (Halliday 1994, 263n24).Adam Watson has touched on the logic of homogeneity inherent inthe expansion of European international society. According to his observation,the Europeans have traditionally applied a “standard of civilization”to non-Europeans who have been “judged not merely by how theyconducted external relations, but also by how they governed themselves”(Watson 1987, 151; see also Jackson 1999, 442–43). As a permanentsemi-outsider, Russia has to a large extent been subjected to the same treatmentas the other non-European others. But it is important to take note ofthe fact that the expectation of homogeneity has operated also within theEuropean international society, and that the degree, nature, and content ofthat homogeneity have fluctuated over time. Thus, we also need to keepan eye on the processes through which the essential elements of sovereigntyget reconstituted.The existing literature remains somewhat vague about these mechanisms,however. For neorealists, the onus is on the changing materialstructure, discounting the question of changing normative constitutionentirely. 5 Fred Halliday (1994, 101) has pointed out how the EnglishSchool notion of international society is in fact a “communitarian” one,implying a group with shared values. The English School therefore adoptsa rather conservative stance advocating the relative sameness of the constitutionalarrangements in the international society and does not answer thequestion of change in this respect. Nor have scholars with constructivistleanings been forthcoming with unambiguous answers. For example, forRobert Jackson, sovereignty “is periodically renovated to respond to new historicalcircumstances,” and when those circumstances change, “requirementsfor order and stability also change, and the practices of sovereignty mustchange too” (1999, 433, 434). In a similarly vague vein, Georg Sørensen’s(1999) attempt at separating change in sovereignty’s regulative from its morestatic constitutive rules shies away from explicating the exact mechanismsthrough which the actual change takes place.The most helpful contribution in this respect is the work of DanielPhilpott who has spelled the intersubjective nature of sovereignty mostexplicitly. For him, to assert the constitution of international society “is not

40 ● Hiski Haukkalato insist upon a fantastic construction but to exhume and reveal somethingwe take for granted” (Philpott 1999, 568). He then goes on to trace thechanges in the constitution of sovereignty by looking at key events that hecalls “constitutional revolutions” (577). But despite establishing four differentchanges in the constitution of sovereignty since Westphalia and goingthrough the content of the changes in some detail, he fails to show whyand through what mechanisms these changes have happened in the firstinstance. Instead, he takes them as a given and asserts that “the concept ofthe constitution of international society offers us a way of characterizinginternational relations, not by its distribution of power, not by its economicopenness, not by its mechanisms for resolving conflict or maintaining peace,but by its very configuration of constitutional authority” (588).But Philpott’s celebration is premature in at least two respects. First,his definition amounts to a tautology (i.e., the constitution of the internationalsociety spells out the constitution of the international society). Moreimportantly, the problem with Philpott’s work—as well as with all otherconstructivist writers discussed in this section—is that of monocausality. Itis not either ideas or power, but both that will be required to make sense ofthe constitution of European international society and Russia’s role in it. Inessence, all of the views previously discussed rest on too passive an understandingof the reconstitution of sovereignty. It does not just change (byitself), but it is changed by willful actors who happen to be in a position toeffect that change in the constitution of international society. A closer readingof Philpott’s work actually reveals that he, too, acknowledges the role ofagents in effecting changes in the constitution of sovereignty. Thus for him,it is the role of “revisionist states” to challenge and overturn the prevailingnorms of sovereignty (Philpott 2001, 359). Similarly, it was “the victors” inthe aftermath of Thirty Years’ War that sought new provisions that wouldhave freed the princes from all imperial control (363).The view adopted here contends that it is important to take note ofthe fact that the constitution of sovereignty is not only based on sharedintersubjective understandings (a “shared” or “common” culture) of whatcounts as legitimate actorness. It is also something that is—at least potentially—imposedon others. 6 As such, the efficacy of the given notion of sovereigntyis dependent on power in two respects: on the one hand, the powerof those who are strong enough to effect the content of sovereignty (thenorm-makers); on the other, the power of those who are strong enoughto resist that normative pressure in order to avoid the fate of becominghapless norm-takers (see also Barkin 1998, 231; Biersteker and Weber 1996,3; Camilleri and Falk 1992, 33).

A Norm-Maker or a Norm-Taker? ● 41The Evolving Face of Sovereigntyand Russia’s Place in EuropeAccording to J. Samuel Barkin (1998), since Westphalia, the constitutionof sovereignty—and also the parameters of legitimate actorness in Europefor Russia—has gone through four mutations. 7 On every occasion, thepattern has been roughly the same, following the logic spelled out earlier inthis chapter. First, the norms of international behavior have been contestedby some actors in the international society. In most cases, a major war and athorough upsetting of the previous balance of power has enabled the victorsto become—or remain—norm-makers and to reconstitute what legitimatesovereignty entails in the new circumstances. Only twice—in the aftermathof the Napoleonic Wars and of World War II—has Russia been in a pivotalposition effecting change in the normative structure of Europe. On otheroccasions, the ensuing mutations of sovereignty have meant additional challengesfor Russia in mastering them and (re)securing her legitimate placein Europe. In the rest of the chapter, these mutations and their impact onRussia’s place in Europe are discussed.The Congress SystemIn the aftermath of the Napoleonic Wars, the order of Westphalia was replacedwith a conservative and antiliberal one, stressing the centrality of legitimatemonarchy as the constitution of the European international society. Thefree-for-all balance of power of the eighteenth century was supplanted withthe system of the Holy Alliance headed by Tsar Alexander I of Russia andForeign Minister Metternich of Austria that pledged to defend “the spiritual,religious, and social values of their common European civilization” againstthe revolutionary forces rampant in Europe (Watson 1985b, 71–72). Now itwas the task of the victors participating in the Congress system of the GreatPowers to make sure that “[I]f domestic political developments threatenedto undermine a legitimate monarch, [they] could legitimately intervene tosupport the old regime, or in fact to reinstate it if it had already been overthrownby a liberal revolution” (Barkin 1998, 239; see also Murphy 1996, 96;Barkin and Cronin 1994, 117).The Vienna settlement and the congress system that ensued enabled Russiato reach her apogee as the leading power on the continent. For nearly halfa century—until the humiliating defeat in the Crimean War in 1853–54—Russia was to be the main and at times even the sole guardian of the systemin Europe. But Russia’s triumph was not to last. Russia’s preponderancealso invited fear and enmity—the fate of all hegemonic or near-hegemonic

42 ● Hiski Haukkalapowers in international politics (see Gilpin 1981). Most importantly—anddevastatingly for Russia—it was Britain, a previous ally in the campaignagainst Napoleon, that now turned into a bitter rival. This rivalry wouldsap the best part of Russia’s strength and undo most of her gains especiallyduring the latter part of the century (for a discussion, see LeDonne 1997,308–45).In a sense, Russia’s triumph against Napoleon and ascension to a fullyfledged and recognized European actorness—even preponderance—cameat the very last moment. Already, the latter part of the eighteenth centuryhad witnessed a change in the way the term Europe was understood. Withthe advent of the Enlightenment, Europe was no longer only about powerand the reason of state but also, and increasingly, a community based onshared ideas with a strong liberal component in them. Deeper cultural andsocietal undercurrents were at play in Europe that managed to undermineRussia’s relative position and highlight the backward nature of her government,economy, and society. Thus, Russia was to run into more profoundforms of resistance and challenges than British arms. Crucially, modernityentailed the closing off of alternative avenues of societal development andthe possibility of permanent relegation to an inferior status in Europe. Thus,the road ahead was once again already mapped out for Russia. In order tokeep up with Europe, Russia had to be transformed into a constitutionalmonarchy and a legal state (Chernukha and Anan’ich 1995, 55–56).This was indeed what the Tsar Alexander I embarked on to achievewith the first of the three rounds of reforms during the nineteenth century.But despite the best of intentions, the Tsar’s vacillation and delays inthe implementation of the program resulted in the emergence of the firstgeneration of Russian revolutionaries. The death of Alexander I in 1825and the Decembrist uprising that soon followed signaled a decisive breakwith the reformist program and augured the reign of Nicholas I, whoseunderstanding of Russian statehood differed manifestly from the emergingEuropean norms. He intended to reign in the spirit of Peter the Great’slegacy, which in effect included autocracy backed by military and a bureaucraticgovernment (Chernukha and Anan’ich 1995, 93–94; see also Malia1999, 92). Whereas Western Europe was moving toward constitutional andlater parliamentary monarchies, Russia was further consolidating its autocracy(Szamuely 1974).Therefore, despite Russia’s key role in its inception, the nineteenthcenturyconstitution of European international society was one into whichRussia could only apparently fit well. Initially, this fit was assured byRussia’s power and role as the leading power in the Holy Alliance. But by themiddle of the century, the stability of the post-Napoleonic normative order

A Norm-Maker or a Norm-Taker? ● 43was under serious strain. The challenge came from two sources. First, thecombination of liberal ideas and Romantic nationalism in Western andCentral Europe challenged the normative foundation of the Concert ofEurope (Murphy 1996, 96–97). Second, Russia’s humiliating defeat in theface of mere expeditionary forces from Britain and France in the War ofCrimea showed that the main guarantor of the order had lost its steam andwas no longer deemed a reliable bulwark of that order. As a consequence,the Holy Alliance was unable to sustain and subjugate the tide of powerfulunification movements in Europe that emerged during the latter part of thecentury in Italy, Germany, and the subsequent emergence of nationalism inall of Europe. After 1871 and the unification of Germany, it was clear thatRussia now faced a major new rival, the rise of which signaled the beginningof an era of industrialized nation-states.Behind Russia’s military weakness lay a more profound systemic malaiseof the Russian state and society. The hand of the autocratic tsar laid heavilyon Russia, and this in turn acted as an insulator and incubator withinwhich the negative dynamics within the Russian society brewed for manydecades. The domestic societal conflict on almost all fronts led Russia underNicholas II to opt for a fully fledged police state to hold the crumblingimperium together (Lieven 2003, 285). 8 But the tighter internal controlsonly meant that Europe as a model and as an ideal was further slippingaway from Russia’s grasp. Malia has suggested that here we have the decisivemoment and the driving force in the consequent Russian/Soviet/ Russianhistory. As Russia increasingly came to lag behind other European powers,the challenge of imitation and adaptation grew increasingly complex,until “when she chose to adapt, she was compelled to telescope into decadesdevelopments that elsewhere had taken a century, thereby only aggravatingthe dislocations within her existing skewed and laggard order” (Malia 1999,142; see also Bunce 1993, 135).After the Crimean War, Russia experienced a half century of reformsand reformers, from Nikolai Miliutin to Count Loris-Melikov and—perhapsmost famous of them all—Sergei Witte. In essence, the main sourcebehind the reformist drive during the latter part of the nineteenth centurywas external: the need to compete with and adapt to the demands of theWest (Mosse 1996, 269). But there was more to the reformist drive than justthe economic and military imperative. Larisa G. Zakharova (1995, 98) hassuggested how, in addition to considerations of utility, Russian reforms werealso an attempt to overcome Russia’s political isolation and negative imagesin the eyes of European public opinion. Thus, a significant audience of thereforms was to be found in Western Europe.

44 ● Hiski HaukkalaBefore Witte’s time, some important gains had already been made,however: serfdom had been abolished, and new systems of municipal andprovincial government had arrived. Also interior communications wereimproving (Dukes 2005, 199). Witte sought to take these gains much further.Especially during the 1890s, the European parts of Russia experiencedrapid industrialization and economic growth. By the turn of the century,Russia was beginning to find her way into the web of interlocking economicrelationships of trade and crediting and borrowing in Europe (Malia 1999,172). But even this was not enough, as the other European societies didnot stop on their tracks to wait for Russia to catch up; they were constantlyevolving and progressing (Mosse 1996, 270). In addition, the results of thereforms were ambiguous in their effects on the Russian state and society.Growing urbanization and industrialization brought diversification, liberalization,and radicalization of the Russian society that found itself increasinglyat odds with the “military-autocratic” mode of governance in late imperialRussia (Chernukha and Anan’ich 1995, 95–96). 9 The ill treatment of theworking class ensured that it, too, had little interest in the perpetuation ofthe existing order (Hosking 2002, 382–83). Additionally, the reforms failedto tackle the endemic poverty ending in traumatic societal conflicts, first in1905 and again in 1917 (Gatrell 1999, 89). When combined with the dramaticlosses and blunders during the World War I, it is no wonder that TsaristRussia collapsed under these multitude strains on its constitution, paving theway for the communist period in Russian history.Nationalism between the World WarsThe dramatic change within Russia coincided with an equally tangiblechange in the constitution of the European international society. Withthe additional collapse of Wilhelmine Germany and of Austria-Hungaryin 1918, the days of empires were through, and the monarchialism of thecongress system was finally replaced with nationalism as the constitutiveprinciple for sovereignty. This time, it was the main victor in the Great War,the United States, who was instrumental in putting the new order in place.President Wilson’s famous Fourteen Points entailed that now recourse to anation became the source of legitimacy for sovereign statehood in the eyes ofinternational society (Barkin 1998, 241; Jackson 1999, 445).The October Revolution in Russia entailed a break with these developmentsin at least two important respects. First, having violently overthrownthe legitimate government in Russia, the Bolsheviks were seen as lackinglegitimacy, and their government was denied sovereignty by the Westerncapitalist powers. This was manifested in the civil war (1918–22) when

A Norm-Maker or a Norm-Taker? ● 45the Western powers directly intervened with the internal affairs of Russiain the form of economic and military support given to the “white” side inthe war. Second, the Bolshevik government headed by Lenin willfully withdrewitself from the political concert of Europe and renounced the previousemulation of the European standards in and by Russia (Kennedy-Pipe1998, 11). In essence, this amounted to the most radical challenge to thenorms and procedures of European international society since 1789. It wasa conscious attempt on the part of Soviet Russia to cease being a taker ofEuropean and wider international norms. More importantly, it amountedto an attempt at creating a competing set of norms for the future constitutionof international society. The competing normative constitution drewits inspiration from the Marxist-Leninist teleology of the impending worldrevolution and sought the abolition of the bourgeois state system and withit, the international society in the form it is understood in this chapter.At first, this implied that the new Soviet Russia (and from 1922 onward,the Soviet Union) wanted nothing to do with the “petty bourgeois” order inEurope and even refrained from formulating any foreign policy principles(Gorodetsky 1994, 30). These views were well summed up by the Commissarfor Foreign Affairs Lev Trotsky (quoted in Gorodetsky 1994, 31),who brashly announced how “the victorious revolution would not botherseeking recognition from the representatives of capitalist diplomacy” whosefate had for all means and purposes already been pre-determined.But it soon became clear that an immediate world revolution was not onthe cards. This disappointing state of affairs had two consequences for theSoviet government. On the one hand, the doctrine of socialism in one countrywas adopted in 1925 with its corollary, the notion that the developmentof communism was to be an endogenous process within the Soviet Unionlargely based on autarchy. On the other hand, Lenin and later especiallyStalin were in a desperate need for international stability that would buythem the time necessary for both recovering from the revolution and thecivil war and consolidating Soviet power within their own borders (Hosking2002, 487; Gurian 1950, 267). In order to achieve these aims, the SovietUnion was soon forced to reengage itself with European international society,seeking at first diplomatic recognition from Western powers, and lateralso membership in Western international institutions, becoming in the processan adept player in the European power politics of the 1930s and 1940s(Gurian 1950, 267).But opting for this dual path dictated by realpolitik had the effect ofcreating the problem of how to align the two conflicting goals—the protectionof the Soviet state within the international system while rejecting itssocietal elements and indeed plotting for the final demise of that system

46 ● Hiski Haukkalaat the same time—into a single foreign policy (Gorodetsky 1994, 30; Rice1991, 145–48). 10 At the ideological level, this tension was never solved,at least not before Mikhail Gorbachev redefined the key tenets of Sovietforeign policy at the end of the 1980s. At the practical level, however,things turned out to be different. By the end of the decade, Moscow hadlearned the hard way that it could not, after all, count on the unconditionalsupport from the world proletariat: the dream of a world revolution hadproven to be an illusion. This made the reassessment of foreign policy prioritiesan urgent matter.But this was easier said than done, as international recognition from theGreat Powers had been slow in the coming. Once again joining the ranksof European international society entailed normative adaptation and conformismon the part of Russia. Already in the Genoa Conference in 1922—which was the first occasion for the Bolsheviks to engage themselves withthe other powers in Europe in a multilateral setting—the Soviet delegationmade a point of dressing formally for the occasion in striped trousers andlong coats when meeting their counterparts. Later, a member of the delegation,Maxim Litvinov, remarked how this was done in order to counter therumors rife in the Western media according to which the Bolsheviks wereexpected to arrive wearing red shirts and black waistbands, boots and tallfur hats. (Kennedy-Pipe 1998, 27).But normative adaptation took place in more profound matters as well,at least superficially. A case in point is the drafting and acceptance of thenew constitution (adopted in 1936), which in essence sought to createthe impression that the Soviet regime was indeed compatible with the Westerndemocratic norms (Gurian 1950, 273). 11 Although purges and severeinternal repression soon took the fig leaf of democratic legitimacy away fromStalin, the important point is that he, too, felt compelled to imitate—atleast on paper—the norms prevailing in the European international societyat the time.Yet although the Soviet Union was making inroads toward becoming amember of European international society, it took the brief Western-Sovietalliance during World War II and the thorough disruption of the balanceof power in Europe that followed to ensure Russia’s emergence as a pivotalplayer in Europe yet again. But although Stalin and the Soviet Unionwere instrumental in dictating the new constitution of Europe in the postwarsituation, it cannot be said that the new constitution would have beenformed under the rubric of common culture. Instead, it was more akin toa precarious equilibrium among the Soviet Union, Western Europe, andthe United States. The precariousness of the postwar settlement is indeedthe key to understanding the cold war, because at no time did the Soviet

A Norm-Maker or a Norm-Taker? ● 47Union—save the final years of Gorbachev at the turn of the 1990s—ceasefrom harboring revolutionary and subversive intentions vis-à-vis its Westerncapitalist neighbors in Europe, nor did the Western powers cease from “containing”the Soviet threat in the hope that one day it would result “in eitherthe break-up or the gradual mellowing of Soviet power” (Kennan 1947/1997,169; see also Malia 1999, 353, 387–88; Halliday 1994, 175–77).Territorial Control and the Cold WarThe Wilsonian interwar constitution and with it the final vestiges of Europeanpreponderance imploded during World War II. After the war, theUnited States and the Soviet Union were in full control of the destinies of notonly Europe, but of the whole globe. They were also in an unrivaled positionto reconstitute the normative order of the by now increasingly global internationalsociety. The cold war and especially the emerging nuclear stalemate ofthe Mutually Assured Destruction made both actors, despite their ideologicalgrievances, unwilling to commit to all-out war, which would only result inthe utter annihilation of the world. In this situation, it was the principle ofterritorial legitimation that came to the fore in the constitution of sovereignty.As such, national borders became sacrosanct, and it was now the relationshipbetween state and territory—not state and people, as previously—thatconstituted sovereign statehood in international society (Barkin 1998, 244;Jackson 1999, 446). This principle found manifestations in the respectiveforeign policies of the two adversaries: the doctrine of peaceful coexistence inthe case of the Soviet Union and the aforementioned policy of containmentin the case of the United States.But the cold war order was a fairly unstable one, succumbing to repeatedcrises between the two main culprits. It was not until the Conference onSecurity and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) at the beginning of the 1970sthat the cold war constitution of territorial control was fully institutionalized—atleast in Europe. On the face of it, the Helsinki Final Act in 1975represented a resounding victory for the Soviet Union. It recognized thestatus quo in Europe, thus enabling Russia to codify a normative order inEurope that was to a large extent her own making and to her liking. But theHelsinki Accords also included the so-called Basket Three of Political andHuman Rights, which kept these questions alive in the East and consequentlyopened the door for the legitimate criticism of Soviet domestic politics(Kennedy-Pipe 1998, 148; Stent 1991, 142). As such, the CSCE became amirror that could be held against the uglier sides of the Soviet face, exposingthe nakedness of Soviet power politics and domination in Eastern Europe

50 ● Hiski Haukkalalaunched in 1986 gave the rapprochement increased impetus as the SovietUnion could hardly risk being excluded from what looked like becomingperhaps the most dynamic economic area in the world (Stent 1991, 143). Itwas for this reason and to this end that Gorbachev started his charm offensiveby declaring 1987 the “Year of Europe.” The Soviet initiative yielded swiftresults, as already in June 1988, the EC and CMEA adopted a “CommonDeclaration” establishing diplomatic relations, followed by a host of bilateralTrade and Cooperation Agreements with all of the members of CMEA, theSoviet Union included.In essence, Gorbachev’s agenda was that of selective imitation and carefuladaptation of Western models and ideas. 15 It is worth emphasizing that at notime did he have plans for renouncing communism or Lenin—in fact, hewanted to resteer the Soviet Union back to the “original” path of Leninism ashe saw it (Gorbachev 1995, 173). He did not believe the task at hand was oneof merely learning from the capitalist countries, and he had no intentions ofsubscribing to and implementing the Western liberal agenda in full (cf. Bunce1993, 120; Malcolm 1991, 57). But like all of Gorbachev’s reforms, NewThinking also contained paradoxical and largely irreconcilable elements (foran analysis of the contradictions in the economic components of perestroika,see Zweynert 2006). An expression of this came in the form of the CommonEuropean Home Initiative, which was articulated most clearly by Gorbachevin his book Perestroika: New Thinking for Our Country and the World (1987,190–209). 16 The book portrayed a drastic break with the key Soviet tenetsfor Europe. Instead of making a clear demarcation between “true” and “false”Europe, the Common European Home recognized the essential culturalwholeness of the continent (Neumann 1996, 162; for the historical roots ofthe binary concept, see Neumann 1996; Malia 1999, 139–46). Nevertheless,it is important to point out that Gorbachev’s blueprint for Europe neverentailed the total eradication of systemic and societal differences betweenthe Soviet Union and Western Europe. In fact, this train of thought was oneagainst which Gorbachev himself spoke in his writings and public speeches.In his book Perestroika, he argued that although “the [common European]home is common . . . each family has its own apartment, and there are differententrances, too.” He continued, it “is only together, collectively, and byfollowing the sensible norms of coexistence that the Europeans can save theirhome, protect it against a conflagration and other calamities, make it betterand safer, and maintain it in proper order” (Gorbachev 1987, 195).For Gorbachev, this “sensible norm of coexistence” was essentially Westphaliansovereignty. This interpretation is given currency by another passagein Perestroika, where he contends that “universal security in our time rests on

A Norm-Maker or a Norm-Taker? ● 51the recognition of the right of every nation to choose its own path of socialdevelopment, on the renunciation of interference in the domestic affairs ofother states. . . . A nation may choose either capitalism of socialism. This isits sovereign right” (Gorbachev 1987, 143). 17Furthermore, in a speech in July 1989, Gorbachev explicitly warnedagainst thinking that “the overcoming of the division of Europe is theovercoming of socialism. That is a course for confrontation” (quoted inNeumann 1996, 165). Instead, the idea behind Common European Home—just like that of the policy of perestroika—was that of gradual convergenceand cooperation between the two systems that would leave their basic differencesin place (Malcolm 1991, 70–71; see also Kubálková 2001, 129). Ina sense, both policies were defensive maneuvers in the face of economicallydynamic and normatively consolidating Europe.Writing in 1990, Ole Wæver (1990, 482) noted how the CommonEuropean Home had turned from a charm offensive to a part of a defensivepolicy whose main aim was to prevent the exclusion of the Soviet Union fromEurope. 18 A year later, Neil Malcolm (1991, 51) noted how the CommonEuropean Home “concerns less the changes which the country’s leadershipmight envisage occurring in Europe as a whole, and more the ‘Europeanization’of the Soviet Union itself, conceived of by many Russians as an essentialcondition for its inclusion in the common European house.” (For the sameargument, see Timmermann 1991, 169–70; Camilleri and Falk 1992, 165.)Gorbachev’s hopes for an equal role in Europe ended therefore in failure.Instead of embracing the idea of a Common European Home, WesternEurope continued, or restarted, the imposition of its normative basis on theSoviet Union yet again. Moscow was not in a position to resist this stateof affairs. This was partly due to the already mentioned poor performanceof the Soviet system. Equally important, however, were the unintended consequencesof Gorbachev’s reforms that managed to erode his chances of success.One of those was the emergence of a group of liberals who advocatedthe copying of and learning from Western models in order to qualify fora membership in “civilization” (Neumann 1996, 167; see also Neumann2002). This intellectual openness to Western models was further augmentedby the Soviet Union’s rapidly deteriorating standing in Europe. In the face ofthe tumultuous events in 1989 in Central and Eastern Europe and in themidst of its own rapidly advancing disintegration, Gorbachev and the SovietUnion were in no position to put forth their own models for the future developmentof Europe. 19 Instead, it was the Western powers and increasingly theEC and its member states that were able to seize the initiative in laying downthe rules for the emerging “New Europe.” The Soviets were forced to concur.

52 ● Hiski HaukkalaThis is highlighted in the words of Foreign Minister Edouard Shevardnadze,who in January 1990 noted how Moscow could not resist the “objectiveprerequisites for economic integration” and the gravitas of the politicalstructures developed in Western Europe that “exert a pull to rapprochement”on the Soviet Union (quoted in Malcolm 1991, 66).In a sense, this process culminated in the Charter of Paris for a New Europein November 1990, which was endorsed by all the members of the CSCE,including the already frail Soviet Union. The document emphasized the roleof peace, democracy, human rights, and the rule of law and economic libertyas the guiding principles in the building of a “New Europe” (CSCE 1990Summit). It also erased the clear distinction between the internal and external—domesticand foreign policies—by obligating all European countries todevelop not only their mutual relations but also and primarily their domesticpolicies in line with these principles. Even if one removes the pompouswording of the document, one is faced with the fact that the Paris Charterrepresented a drastic and final break in the bipolar normative constellationin Europe. In short, the Paris Charter discredited the socialist experiment asa credible alternative to Western modes of liberalism, the market economyand the democratic rights of individuals. Convergence was not to take placebetween the systems, as the convergence theorists and even Gorbachev hadassumed, but it was the Soviet Union and communism that essentially capitulatedat the end of the 1980s by subscribing in full to the normative agendadeveloped by the West. By signing the Paris Charter, Gorbachev signaledthe end of a competing Soviet normative agenda for the future developmentof the European international society. Once again it was Europe’s turn tocondition Russia’s place in Europe.ConclusionThe end of the cold war heralded the fourth mutation in the constitution ofthe European international society. The new constitution was based on thenorms already advocated by the EC during the CSCE process in the beginningof the 1970s, but the primacy of human rights was complemented witha more wide-ranging cocktail of Western liberal values, such as democracy,rule of law, and market economy. The new era entailed once again closing offalternative avenues for the constitution of Europe. As such, Russia returnedto her longer historical trajectory, trying to locate her own place in the emergingnew constellation.To a certain degree, the new game was in fact the continuation of anolder and familiar one that has been reconstructed in this chapter and thatis summarized in Table 2.1.

A Norm-Maker or a Norm-Taker? ● 53Table 2.1 The role of Russia in the reconstitution of European international society.The ConstitutiveThe Name of the Era Norm-maker(s) Principle Role of RussiaWestphalia No decisive victor Religious settlement Initially not part ofthe system, then anorm-takerCongress system The Great Powers Legitimate monarchy At first the key norm-(Russia, Austria,maker/enforcer ofBritain, Prussia)the Concert, then ahesitant norm-takerInter-world wars The United States Nationalism Not part of thesystem until the1930s, then asuperficial norm-takerCold war The United States Territorial control Key norm-maker, andthe Soviet Unionat the turn of the1990s a tentativenorm-takerThe post-cold war era “The West” Liberal democracy A norm-taker, anEuropean and market aspiring member ofinstitutions, esp. economy; human the “EuropeanCoE, EU, OSCE rights Community of Values”The table shows how only twice during the time span covered by thischapter has Russia been a pivotal player in the European international societythat has been able to make—or to be a part of the coalition that made—thenorms that constitute sovereignty. On all other occasions, Russia’s lot has beento be the taker of European norms. But even on the occasions when Russiahas been the norm-maker, her position has been based on the temporarymight of her arms achieved through tremendous internal mobilization andeffort. Russia has been a “Prodigal Superpower” (Rosefielde 2005) with feetof clay, without the help of commensurate preponderance in her economicperformance and societal organization. On both occasions, then, the Russianmoment only lasted for about half a century, ending with a humiliating defeatand a retreat from Europe. Furthermore, apart from communism, Russia hasbeen unable to come up with an ideology or a set of normative claims thatwould have acted as a legitimate and widely recognized international rallyingcall. Even communism was an imported ideology—notably of WesternEuropean origin, as Russians themselves like to point out these days.This is the historical trajectory to which Russia returned in the beginningof the 1990s. As in Westphalia, once again Russia had not been present atthe creation of the constitution of the post–cold war European international

54 ● Hiski Haukkalasociety. This symmetry is no accident but something that reveals a recurringtheme in Russia’s relationship with Europe. Essentially it has been Europe(and in the latest instance perhaps the “West”) that has had the opportunityto reconstitute the international society and the changing normativeparameters for Russia’s legitimate place in Europe. As Table 2.1 suggests,Russia has been less than successful in rising to the occasion. The adjectives“tentative” and “superficial” before the word “norm-taker” reveal thatalthough in principle it is possible to agree with Lilia Shevtsova’s (2005) argumentthat the history of Russia is also the history of its Europeanization, it isonly attempted Europeanization that we are talking about in this historicalcontext. There is nothing historically inevitable in the process, and it does notnecessarily entail progress or a closer fit between Europe and Russia. Russiahas in fact always been ill at ease with Europe, as it is now with its most recentmanifestation, Europeanization. As a consequence, Russia has been either ademander or an apologetic, but it has almost never been an equal participantof the European international society.In a sense, the end of the cold war and the dissolution of the Soviet Uniondid not translate into a Fukuyaman end of history after all. Instead, the historicalanalysis above gives grounds to an assertion that a return of history ismore appropriate—as the basic incompatibility between the Western and theSoviet systems were eradicated, Russia resumed her historical quest of findingher rightful place in the European international society. 20 Once again,Russia has been forced to come a-knocking on Europe’s door. But in certainimportant respects, the situation is not a mere continuation of history a la1917. The Europe of the 1990s provided Russia with unprecedented normativedepth and institutional thickness and, as a consequence, a much morechallenging normative landscape into which she could—and indeed must—try to position herself than the one Russia left behind at the end of theWorld War I. To a certain degree, the societas created at Westphalia had beenreplaced with a new secular universitas proclaiming the principles of Westernliberalism, especially democracy, market economy, and human rights, withthe EU residing at its most highly institutionalized postsovereign core. It isindeed in the highly explicit nature of this conditioning that the qualitativechanges in Russia’s place in Europe in this last instance become apparent.Therefore, the question is not just that of having seats at the right tables.Once again, Russia has to wrestle with the question of how much she can—and wants to—converge toward the constitution of the European internationalsociety that has been made without her being present at its creation.The outcome is uncertain, but that Russia must try is not: this questionhas, after all, been the driving force of both Russian and to a lesser extentEuropean history for at least the past three centuries.

A Norm-Maker or a Norm-Taker? ● 55Notes1. For the seminal work, see Neumann (1996). For a survey of the existing literatureas well as an innovative theoretical treatment and extensive case studiesabout the subject, see Hopf (2002).2. The story will be continued in my forthcoming work that will tell the post–coldwar part of the story in more detail.3. The key text in this respect is, of course, Bull (1977/1995). For an overviewabout the English School and its central theoretical tenets, see Buzan (2004, esp.6–26).4. A clarification of the usage of the terms “European international society” and“international society” is perhaps required. To a large extent, they are used interchangeablyin this chapter. Traditionally, European international society has beenseen as the “core,” the expansion of which has resulted in the more encompassingpresent global international society. For treatments, see Bull and Watson (1985)and Watson (2003).5. For neorealists, the “constitution of the international society” (a term they wouldnever use themselves, by the way) equals the structure of the international systemand the dispersion of relative material capabilities within it.6. Halliday (1994, 102) has sought to explicate how the (constitution of the) internationalsociety can indeed rest on the coercion of its more powerful members.7. But see Jackson (1999), who identifies only three: Westphalian, imperial, andpopular sovereignties, and Philpott (2001, 367), who sees essentially only onesignificant change from Westphalian sovereignty to the European Union.8. The techniques of control employed in late imperial Russia have been discussedin Moon (1999) and Lauchlan (2005).9. For more about the notion of military-autocracy, see Owen (1999, 108–11).10. Walter Gurian (1950, 268–69) has labelled these two faces of the Soviet foreignpolicy as “utopianism” and “cynical realism.” For a longer discussion about thisbasic tension, see Kennedy-Pipe (1998, 1–8).11. Gurian (1950, 270) also shows how reengaging with the international societyresulted in other internal changes, as well, for the Soviet Union. For example,Stalin and his associates assumed the “hated tsarist” titles of prime minister andminister—ostensibly in order to increase their compatibility and prestige in theeyes of the new capitalist partners and rivals.12. For a more conceptual exposition of the “Normative Power Europe,” see Manners(2002). During the post–cold war period, this role became, for obviousreasons, more accentuated, but as has already been mentioned, these events gobeyond the scope of this article.13. The role of the EC and its European Political Cooperation in broadening theagenda has been discussed in detail in Thomas (2001) and van Ham (1993,109–14).14. The scholarly community seems to be largely in unison over this point. See,for example, Bunce (1993, 113), Laird (1989, 231), Timmermann (1990, 106,108–9), and Wettig (1991, 89).

56 ● Hiski Haukkala15. Moltz (1993, 308–9) has called this process borrowing, where leaders deriveknowledge from the international arena in order to increase their political efficacywithout experiencing more profound changes in underlying goal structures.16. This is not saying much about the clarity of the concept, however. Neil Malcolm(1989) has pointed out how the main characteristic of the common Europeanhome concept in fact was always its vagueness.17. For an excellent discussion of the fluctuating content of sovereignty in Sovietthinking, see Jones (1990).18. See also Timmermann (1990, 121) for the same conclusion. In an article writtena year later, William C. Wohlforth (1991, 50) argued, using neorealist parlance,that Gorbachev’s Soviet Union had become a status quo power withoutthe power to stop its collapse.19. This is nothing new, however. According to Iver Neumann (2002, 205) apartfrom communism—now lying on its deathbed—Russia has been historicallyunable to produce alternative models to the “hegemonic” European ones.20. This is the point that Iver Neumann makes in his chapter as well.

PART 2Russia and Europe:Making Policy

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CHAPTER 3Russian Foreign-PolicyDecision Making on EuropeAlexander SerguninIntroductionThis chapter focuses on how Russia’s policies toward Europe have beenmade in the post-communist era. In particular, it pays attention tothe powers, roles, and functions of actors participating in the decision-makingprocess. Both governmental and nongovernmental actors areexamined. It further assesses the efficiency of the foreign policy mechanismand identifies major problems in its organization and functioning.It should be noted that a country’s decision-making system not onlyreflects foreign policy debate in the society, but it also is to some extent aproduct of this debate and an instrument that helps put ideas into practice.Decision-makers are simultaneously part of this debate, consumers of theproducts of discourse, instruments of implementation and feedback.The collapse of the USSR and the reemergence of the independent Russianstate had many serious implications for the country’s foreign policydecision-making system. Decision-makers had to operate within a completelynew political environment—domestic and international. The new politicalsystem included new institutions, political actors (such as the presidency),interest groups, multiple parties, and think tanks. The roles and functionsof the old players—foreign, defense and security agencies, the legislature,the mass media, and public opinion—were all reconsidered. The purposesand motivation of the foreign policy mechanism radically changed as well.

60 ● Alexander SerguninThe country’s international strategy was no longer oriented to the strugglewith capitalism or competing for global hegemony with the United States.Instead, Russia redefined its international status and resources to cope withits absolutely new set of security challenges and a new system of nationalinterests. It is also important to emphasize that Russia had to create a newdecision-making mechanism simultaneously with and in the course of nationbuilding. This multiple transition was extremely difficult and the causeof many mistakes and lapses. This process is still far from complete: bothinstitutions and decision-making procedures are still evolving.The decision-making process involves two types of actors—governmental(the presidency, numerous executive agencies, the Russian parliament,regional and local governments, etc.) and nongovernmental (interest groups,political parties, religious organizations, think tanks and—to a certainextent—the mass media). 1 Government ActorsThe government decision-making mechanism for Russia’s European policies(see Figure 3.1) took its current shape by the mid-1990s. A proper legaland doctrinal basis (the Russian Constitution of 1993, presidential decreesof 1992–93) was followed by a series of decisions establishing the status ofdifferent agencies in foreign policy (federal laws on national security [1992],international treaties and foreign trade [both, 1995], delimiting powersbetween the federal center and regions in the sphere of international politics[1999], the concept of foreign policy [1993], military doctrine [1993], thenational security concept [1997], etc.). A more-or-less clear division of laborbetween various executive agencies as well as between the executive branchand the legislature was established (although some squabbling between themoccasionally occurs even now). Foreign policy and national security agencieshave finalized internal structural and procedural reforms.On a more general note, by the mid-1990s, the Russian political, military,and business elites completed their consolidation under the Yeltsin regime,and a sort of foreign policy consensus emerged in the country (Blackwilland Karaganov 1994, 53–55; Malhotra and Sergunin 1998, 403–9; Sergunin2003, 85).There are three levels of foreign-policy decision making in Russia amongstate actors: federal, regional, and local. The first (federal) level is represented(as elsewhere) by the executive and legislative branches. Among thefederal executive bodies two main types can be distinguished: president-related(the president and his administration) and Cabinet of Ministers–related

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 61(ministries, committees, services, etc.); although some agencies have a doublesubordination, to the president and the prime minister. Among executiveagencies involved in Russia’s shaping of European policy, four categoriescan be singled out: diplomacy/policy (Ministry of Foreign Affairs); nationalsecurity (Ministry of Defense, intelligence community, etc.); economy(Ministry for Economic Development and Trade [MEDT], Ministry ofFinance, Customs Committee, etc.); and society/culture (Ministry of SocialDevelopment and Health Care, Ministry of Culture, Ministry of Educationand Science, etc. [see Figure 3.1]).According to current legal regulations, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs(MFA) is a key executive agency in the decision-making mechanism (includingEuropean issues). The MFA was entrusted with the function of coordinatingand monitoring work by other ministries to ensure a unified politicalline by Russia in its relations with foreign states and its participation ininternational organizations. Executive agencies should coordinate draftagreements with other states, the publication of forthcoming visits abroadby Russia’s state leaders, foreign leaders’ visits to Russia, and reports of theirprogress with the MFA.The role of the MFA in decision making varies because its ground ruleswere rather unstable (especially in the 1990s). From the very beginning, theMFA has never been the only or ultimate decision-maker of Russia’s Europeanpolicy. Despite the fact that the ministry was the only agency withformal responsibility for overseeing European/international policy, otherministries (such as the Ministry of Defense, the intelligence community, theCustoms Committee, etc.) and especially the president and his administrationinterfered with policy making. As far as Europe is concerned, the MEDTis the main rival of the MFA because the lion’s share of EU-Russia relationsconcerns the economy, trade, the WTO accession process, Kaliningrad, andso on, where MEDT has priority.The MFA has the following responsibilities in the policy-making process:• Gathering and processing data on Russia-Europe relations and providingthe president, prime minister, and other relevant executive agencies andthe parliament with such information• Writing policy papers with the aim of attracting the attention of key playersto particular problems and suggesting recommendations for solution• Making predictions about EU-Russia relations and on Europeanintegration• Negotiating with the EU and particular European countries on specificissues and drafting treaties and agreements

62 ● Alexander SerguninFigure 3.1 Governmental actors.• Diplomatic correspondence with European countries, EU organs, andother multilateral organizations—OSCE (Organization for Securityand Cooperation in Europe), CBSS (Council of the Baltic Sea States),BEAC (Barents-Euro-Arctic Council), etc.• The organization of official Russian delegations’ trips to Europe and thereception of European visitors to Russia• Maintaining routine connections with Russian embassies, consulates, andtrade missions in European countries

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 63• Coordinating the foreign policy activities of Russian executive agencies atall levels (federal, regional, and local)The MFA has two types of structural units (departments): regional andfunctional. Three regional European departments and the functional Departmentfor Pan-European Cooperation are in charge of European affairs. Anumber of other functional units (the Department for International Organizations;the Department for Security and Disarmament; the Department forInternational Humanitarian Cooperation and Human Rights; the Departmentfor Liaison with Members of the Russian Federation, Parliament,and Political and Public Organizations; the Legal Department; the ProtocolDepartment and the Consular Service) are also involved in the makingof Moscow’s European policy (see Figure 3.2). There is also a ForeignPolicy Planning Directorate who writes policy papers, makes recommendationson coordination measures and topical issues, as well as provides theminister with predictions about future developments in particular areas ofworld politics.Along with these departments, the MFA administrative structure includesa collegiate body and a consultative group that is comprised of deputy ministers,department heads, the minister’s executive secretary, and his adviser.The collegiate body discusses mainly internal administrative matters suchas improving the structure of the ministry, the Russian missions abroad,and the consular service. The executive secretariat assists the minister inmanaging the work of the MFA There is also a group of advisers, staffed bysenior diplomats, and ambassadors at large assigned special responsibilitiessuch as conflict resolution or arms control negotiations. Deputy ministers’responsibilities relate to particular functional or regional areas of Russianinternational policy and include overseeing the work of other departments.National security–oriented agencies are represented first of all by theMinistry of Defense (MoD). The MoD was formally established in March1992. According to the Russian Constitution, the Law on Security of 1992,and the Law on Defense (October 1992), the president is the commander-in-chiefof the armed forces, operating through the General Staff. TheSecurity Council is the political body that controls Russia’s military establishment.Between 1996 and 1998, the Defense Council played an importantrole in military-reform planning. The MoD is responsible for the developmentand implementation of military, technical, and personnel policy.The functions of the General Staff include developing proposals relating toRussian military doctrine and to the structure, composition, deployment,and tasks of Russian armed forces. While the MoD was assigned political

64 ● Alexander SerguninFigure 3.2. The internal structure of the Russian Foreign Ministry(related to European policy making) 1Foreign MinisterFirst Deputy MinisterDeputy MinistersExecutive Secretariat Group of Advisers Ambassadorsat LargeFunctional departments Regional departments1. Department for International 1. Department for Pan-EuropeanOrganizationsCooperation2. Department for Security & Disarmament 2. First European Department3. Department for Humanitarian (Andorra, Belgium, Cyprus,Co-operation & Human RightsFrance, Greece, Italy,4. Department for Liaison with the Members Luxembourg, Malta, Malteseof the Russian Federation, Parliament,Order, Monaco, Netherlands,public & political organisationsPortugal, San Marino, Spain,5. Legal Department Turkey, Vatican)6. Protocol Department 3. Second European Department7. Information and Press Department (Denmark, Estonia, Finland,8. Consular Service Ireland, Island, Latvia,Lithuania, Norway, Sweden, UK)4. Third European Department(Albania, Austria, Bosnia &Herzegovina, Bulgaria, Croatia,Hungary, Czech Republic,Liechtenstein, Germany,Macedonia, Poland, Romania,Serbia & Montenegro, Slovakia,Slovenia, Switzerland)1Source http://www.mid.ru/nsite-sv.nsf/msndoc/03.04and administrative functions, the General Staff directed operational andstrategic planning and the management of troops (Yeltsin 1992).From the moment of its creation, the MoD appeared to be engaged ina determined struggle to recapture the influential position in foreign policymatters occupied by its Soviet predecessor. Although in the new regime theMoD’s approval was formally required for any decisions affecting its sphere

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 65of competence (and its representatives were routinely included in delegationsdealing with arms control and defense matters), there was a strong sense (atleast in the early 1990s) that its views were being ignored and that optionsfor the future were being foreclosed. Remarkably, the first Russian defenseminister, Pavel Grachev, became a full member of the Security Councilonly after he proved his loyalty to the president by supporting Yeltsin in hisconfrontation with the Supreme Soviet in September/October 1993.At the same time, the weakness of central authority and the lack of asound decision-making system in the first half of the 1990s meant thatthe Russian military establishment enjoyed considerable autonomy andwas gradually able to increase its influence on security policy. Its linkswith civilian politicians and expatriate communities provided the defenseestablishment with additional channels of influence on Russian decisionmaking. Along with the foreign minister, the defense minister became amember of the Security Council’s Inter-Agency Foreign Policy Commissionin December 1992. The General Staff dominated the process of draftingmilitary doctrine in 1992–93. According to some accounts, at a meeting ofthe Security Council on February 28, 1993, Yeltsin asked the high-rankingmilitary leaders to draft not only military-technical sections but also thepolitical chapter of the new military doctrine—a prerogative that, in principle,belonged to the Security Council or the president himself (Malcolmet al. 1996, 253). The final version of the doctrine reflected military ratherthan civilian preferences.In the early 1990s, the MoD often prevailed over other foreign policyinstitutions in Russia’s relations with the Baltic States. In early September1992, the Russian and Lithuanian military authorities reached an agreementon a timetable for Russian troop withdrawals. The MFA received the agreementtwo days before it was to be signed, and they were physically unableto make the necessary amendments (Crow 1993, 52). A few weeks later,the MoD announced that withdrawals would be suspended, when suitableaccommodation was not yet ready for particular units on Russian territory.Then on October 29, the Russian president, influenced by the military, signeda directive stopping the withdrawal for a short period. The MFA claimed notto have been consulted about this move either. In 1993–94, the MFA managedto play a more visible role in negotiating and concluding agreementson troop withdrawals from Latvia and Estonia. However, the MFA had torevise its previous position under the pressure of the military establishmentand implement a “linkage tactic” to secure the rights of retired officers andthe Russian-speaking population in these two countries. In January 1994,the foreign minister even called the Baltic States a “source of threat to Russia,”referring to the lack of progress on negotiations on troop withdrawal

66 ● Alexander Serguninfrom Estonia and Latvia and incidents between the Latvian militia Zemessardzeand Russian servicemen stationed in this country (Kozyrev 1994).From 1993 to 1995, the MoD put formidable pressure on the MFA tonegotiate an agreement on military transit with Lithuania (to and fromKaliningrad). The MFA initially planned to link this issue with a comprehensivepolitical agreement with Vilnius. However, facing both the Lithuanianand Russian MoD’s reluctance to accept such a linkage, the MFA hadto agree to settle the issue of military transit on a separate basis (the BalticIndependent, February 3–9, 1995, 6). It should be noted that even after theformal resolution of this problem, Lithuania complained about numerousviolations of its airspace by Russian aircraft, and the MFA was often put onthe spot or otherwise held responsible for wrongdoing by the military.The MoD officials, at odds with the MFA, felt themselves free to expresstheir opposition to military intervention in the former Yugoslavia. In lateApril 1993, the MoD announced that Russia would not send additionalpeace-keeping forces there (Crow 1993, 50). Underlying these moveswas the fear that Russia could be drawn into a war that had the potentialto spread beyond the Balkan region. The MoD also criticized MFA’spro-Western policy on the former Yugoslavia, in sharp contrast with thetraditional Russian pro-Serbian course. However, the MFA’s subsequentcriticism of NATO air strikes against Serbs in Bosnia helped to bridge thegap between the two ministries’ positions.In 1999, the MoD and General Staff demonstrated their “independence”of other foreign policy and national security agencies in case of the Kosovocrisis. They deployed military vessels (mostly reconnaissance ships) to theconflict zone and shared military intelligence data with Milosevic. Thischange of tack included a surprise move of Russian peace-keepers fromBosnia to Pristina (Kosovo), which led to a conflict with British peacekeepersin the area. However, many experts believe that this move wassanctioned by Yeltsin, who wanted to demonstrate to NATO that he was stillable to control the whole situation.The MoD was quite independent in the sphere of military diplomacy. Forexample, in late July 1992 Yeltsin endorsed the MoD’s proposal to negotiateon military cooperation with Bulgaria, Hungary, Poland, Romania, andthe Czech Republic, irrespective of progress in negotiating political treatieswith these countries (Crow 1993, 51). In September 1994, Grachev signedmilitary cooperation agreements with Denmark, Finland, and Norwayduring a visit to Copenhagen (the Baltic Independent, September 16–22,1994, 2). He also offered the Baltic States the same bilateral security agreements.However, these proposals (which did not fully correspond to the

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 67Russian diplomatic line in the region in any case) were rejected by the Balticleadership as “premature.”The MoD was quite active in military-technical cooperation with theWestern European Union (WEU), which was seen as the EU’s military armin the mid-1990s. The space and aviation industries were the main areasof cooperation. The MoD also cooperated with a number of the formermembers of the Warsaw Treaty Organization (e.g., Bulgaria), who weredependant on Russia for spare parts.Along with the Foreign Intelligence Service, the MoD was one of the earliestcritics of plans to expand NATO eastward. The ministry was especiallyconcerned with the possibility of NATO replacing the UN in peace-keepingor even extending NATO’s peace-keeping activities into the Commonwealthof Independent States (CIS) area.The MoD was also a leading agency for the arms control process inEurope. The MoD was a significant player in the revision of the ConventionalForces in Europe (CFE.) Treaty. From the very beginning, the Russianmilitary establishment regarded this treaty as unjust, having resulted fromGorbachev’s unilateral concessions to the West. The so-called flank issue wasthe main area of contention between Russia and the West. Because of flanklimitations, Russia was allowed to deploy only 18 percent of its treaty-limitedequipment (TLE.) in the Leningrad and North Caucasus Military Districts,together covering more than half of its units deployed on one-quarter ofRussia’s territory. This asymmetry of deployment was also illustrated by thefact that Russia could have six times the number of tanks and fifteen timesthe number of armored combat vehicles in the tiny Kaliningrad SpecialDefense District than in the whole flank zone (SIPRI 1996, 718).Meanwhile Russia had to protect its northwestern and southern borders,taking into account its new geopolitical situation and the rise of unfriendlyregimes. Russian demands to revise the CFE Treaty were mainly related tothe North Caucasus Military District where the Chechen war broke out.Grachev played a crucial role in negotiating a compromise agreement withhis American counterpart William Perry in October 1995. The Perry-Grachevcompromise excluded a number of Russian regions from the flank zones andthus allowed Moscow to deploy more troops and armaments in the vulnerableareas (SIPRI 1997, 476–79).Under Putin, the MoD has continued to lose its influence on foreignpolicydecision making (including European affairs). The president hasassigned the MoD predominantly internal missions such as military reform,the war in Chechnya, and so on. Even the collective security system of theCIS, including peace-keeping operations in the post-Soviet space and inthe Balkans or arms control, are no longer the MoD’s preferential areas. 2

68 ● Alexander SerguninThe ministry looks often more like an instrument of implementing policiesrather than a decision-maker.To summarize, there were ups and downs in the MoD’s influence on thedecision-making process. Being created and properly institutionalized laterthan many other governmental bodies, the MoD and General Staff havehad to wage permanent bureaucratic warfare to secure their interests andauthority. This often resulted in open confrontations with the MFA and thepresidential structures as well as inconsistencies in Russia’s policies in Europe.In the 1990s, the military establishment managed to retain its positions inareas such as CIS military integration, peace-keeping in the post-Soviet spaceand Balkans, arms control, military-technical cooperation with Europeancountries, and military-to-military contacts. The military lobby’s influenceincreased in the periods when the president badly needed the army’s supportin domestic political struggles (i.e., the confrontations with parliamentin 1993 and 1998, wars in Chechnya) and decreased when the Kremlin’spositions were more-or-less stable. The general tendency, however, has beenthat with a strong president and foreign minister and the pressing goal ofmilitary reform, the defense agency’s attention has eventually turned frominternational to domestic issues.The intelligence community includes four major services: the ForeignIntelligence Service (FIS), military intelligence—the GRU (GlavnoeRazvedavatel’noe Upravlenie [Main Intelligence Directorate of the GeneralStaff]), the FSB (Federal’naya Sluzhba Bezopasnosti [Federal Security Service]),and the Committee on Financial Monitoring (CFM).The FIS is the most important agency in terms of decision making.Through its stations in Europe and analytical services in Russia, the FISgathers a huge amount of information that often serves as a crucial factorin decisions taken by key Russian actors. The GRU is focused on militaryespionage, and its possibilities for influencing the decision-making processare quite limited. In addition, the GRU is subordinated to the General Staffand the defense minister and so is unable to be an independent actor, unlikethe other members of the intelligence community.The FSB is mostly preoccupied with counterintelligence and rarelyinvolved in purely intelligence operations. However, after the series of the“colored” revolutions in the post-Soviet space in 2004–5 (Georgia, Ukraine,Kyrgyzstan), Putin assigned the FSB the task of monitoring the situationin the “near abroad” (with an emphasis on potential uprisings and terroristactivities). It remains unclear whether the FSB has such capabilities, becausetraditionally this function belonged to the FIS which, incidentally, was quiteskeptical (and to some extent jealous) about the presidential decision. The

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 69CFM is a key agency in controlling financial flows to and from Russia. Thisbody is considered as crucial for the economic and financial security of thecountry. Since the EU is Russia’s main trade partner, the CFM pays specialattention to all transactions with European countries in order to preventillegal activities.The power/national security–oriented sector also includes the Ministry ofthe Interior and the Committee on Drug Control. Together with the BorderGuard Service (a part of the FSB) and the Customs Committee, their contributionis crucial to EU-Russia cooperation in fighting organized crime.Cross-border crime constitutes an important area and is a common concernfor both the EU and Russia, particularly as to the trafficking of drugs,money, goods, stolen vehicles, and even people. These types of activities havea significant impact on people’s lives and the pace of economic and politicalreforms and also undercut government revenues. At the operational level, thepolice, customs and special services, and border guards need to be trained tounderstand the implications of international laws and conventions signed bytheir government. Continued training for officials from these agencies alsoincreases their ability to counteract illegal activities.Russia cooperates with Europe both at the bilateral and multilateral levelsin this field. For example, a Russian-British Memorandum of Understandingon combating organized crime was signed in October 1997. Since 1996,the Task Force on Organized Crime in the Baltic Sea Region (Visby Group),developed under the auspices of the CBSS, has taken a leading role in buildingcooperation between regional law enforcement agencies (Vaz 2000, 56).The group deals with and coordinates action on illegal migration, moneylaundering, stolen cars, highly taxed goods, and trafficking in women, drugs,and corruption (Council of the European Union 2000). All partner countriesof the so-called Northern Dimension Initiative (NDI) are involved.Cooperation at the subnational level takes place to fight cross-border crime.The European Commission participates in the work of the task force, andthe EU presidency and Europol are regularly invited. The task force has beenconducting joint, multidisciplinary law enforcement operations through itsOperative Committee. A communications system allowing for an intensiveexchange of information (BALTCOM) operates twenty-four hours a day.From the start, Russia has been one of the most active members of the taskforce. For example, Kaliningrad participated in a series of operations againststolen vehicles (the Kaliningrad Project, 1998), drugs (Channel, 1999),and illegal migration (Baltic Guard 1997–98 and VIVAN, 1999). Thesejoint operations have contributed to confidence building and the improvementof “soft” security in the Baltic Sea area. Thanks to this, the perception

70 ● Alexander Serguninof Kaliningrad is today much better in the region than it was in 1996when the task force started its work (Commission of the European Communities2001).In March 2000, an EU plan on combating organized crime, focusingon EU-Russia judicial cooperation in criminal matters, was adopted. Russiasubsequently endorsed the plan as a suitable basis for cooperation. Theplan concentrates on measures to combat double invoicing as an instrumentof organized crime in trade between the EU and Russia (Councilof the European Union 2001, 6). The Roadmap to the EU-Russia CommonSpace on Freedom, Justice, and Security (adopted at the EU-Russiasummit in May 2005) also highlights fighting organized crime as an importantpriority for the joint cooperative agenda.Among the economy/trade-oriented agencies, the MEDT is a leadingactor. Its international policy-related functions include:• running Russia’s foreign trade;• daily control over the Russian foreign trade missions abroad;• trade-related negotiations with individual foreign countries and internationaleconomic organizations, including the EU and the WTO;• the economic/trade aspects of the Kaliningrad problem.This has inevitably led to the numerous (however, not publicized—atleast when compared to tensions with the MoD) conflicts with the MFAThe latter blamed the MEDT for its nonprofessionalism and its intrusioninto the MFA’s fields of jurisdiction. The MFA insisted that the MEDT’sactivities should be coordinated with the diplomatic agency and that all theministry’s officials should clear their statements with Smolenskaya Square. 3The MFA has also demanded that the heads of Russian trade missions inforeign countries should regularly report to ambassadors, who are seen asRussia’s supreme representatives abroad. Under Putin, the interpersonalrelationships between the liberal-minded head of the MEDT, German Gref,and the rather conservative foreign ministers, Igor Sergeev and Sergei Lavrov,have also been problematic.The Customs Committee does not play any independent role in Russia’sdecision making on Europe. Rather, it is a typical body of policy-takers overseeingimplementation. However, since its huge bureaucracy deals in practicalterms with the movement of people, goods, and services through EU-Russiaborders, it is important that customs officers and rules correspond to international/Europeanstandards. For example, at its 1996 Visby Summit. the CBSSadopted an ambitious program aimed at subregional cooperation, including

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 71the need to train Russian border guards and customs officers (DiplomaticheskiyVestnik 1996, 8: 9–11). The BEAC has developed a methodology fordirect and very successful cooperation between Nordic and Russian customsauthorities that could be applied also elsewhere. At the same time (as seenfrom the case on Kaliningrad), the Customs Committee can also be a sourceof rather destructive initiatives that hamper EU-Russia cooperation.The Ministry of Finance is also of secondary importance for decisionmaking on European affairs (although it is crucial in domestic politics). Itis responsible for allocating funds for Russia’s foreign policy apparatus andEU-Russia joint programs. It also oversees whether there are any violations inthe use of budgetary money or not. The ministry has its own contacts withsimilar agencies in European countries and discusses the partners’ financialpolicies on an occasional basis.Since the EU and Russia have quite considerable trade in agricultural goodsand the EU has initiated a number of agricultural projects in Russia with theaim to improve technology, management, and labor productivity, the RussianMinistry of Agriculture is involved from time to time in the formulation ofMoscow’s European policies. Similar to many other governmental agencies,its role is of a more technical, rather than political, character.The cultural/societal bloc in the Russian government is represented by theMinistry of Social Development and Health, the Ministry of Culture, andthe Ministry of Education and Science. They are often consulted by the realdecision-makers on European affairs. Despite not being independent actors(all of them coordinate their activities with the Foreign Ministry), they developedrather intense and fruitful cooperative links with Europe. For example,the Ministry of Education and Science is a party to a number of EU cooperativeprograms, such as TEMPUS-TACIS (inter-university cooperation),INTAS (research cooperation), SIRIUS (lecturing program), and so on.The Ministry of Education and Science is crucial in terms of Russiajoining the so-called Bologna Process that aims to harmonize and integratethe European higher education system. Russia has pledged to complete thereform of its university system (in order to comply with Bologna requirements)by 2010, though there is a great deal of skepticism among expertsabout whether it will actually be achieved. The ministry has selected severalinstitutions to serve as “pilot universities,” where things like a two-level system(bachelors and masters) instead of the specialist scheme, the European CreditTransfer System (ECTS), and diploma supplement and mutual recognitionof European and Russian diplomas, will be introduced.Given the impressive number of Russian governmental foreign policyactors, the problem of coordinating their activities is obvious. Initially, this

72 ● Alexander SerguninFigure 3.3: The Security Council of the Russian Federation 1SecretariatChairman(President of the RF)Permanent Members Interdepartmentalmembers (head, General Staff, Russian commissions(prime minister;armed forces; minister ofchairmen of thefinance; president, RussianState Duma andAcademy of Science; attorneythe Council of the general; minister of justice;Federation;minister of civil defense andsecretary of theemergency; seven presidentialSC; defense minister; envoys in the federalforeign minister; districts)director of theForeign IntelligenceService;director of theFederal SecurityService; minister ofinterior; first deputyprime minister; headof the presidentialadministration1Source: http//www.scrf.gov.ru/personnels/members.shtmlfunction rested with the Security Council created by Yeltsin in 1992 (inaccordance with the Law on Security). The council consists of the president(chair), secretary, prime minister, and the heads of the key national securityrelatedagencies. The council has a secretariat with numerous subdivisions,expert groups, and so on. The council also serves as an umbrella for variousinteragency groups that were created to solve or monitor specific problems(most of them are of a temporary character) (see Figure 3.3).According to the Law on Security, the council• determines the foundations of Russia’s domestic and foreign policies;• identifies the country’s vital interests, as well as internal and externalthreats to its security;• supervises the country’s military, economic, social, and informationsecurity;

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 73• makes recommendations to the president on issues of external and internalpolicy;• drafts presidential decrees on national security matters, such as foreignpolicy, defense, military-technical cooperation with foreign countries,organized crime, etc. (Yeltsin 1992).In reality, however, the council has been unable to fulfill its coordinating rolefor a number of reasons:• Being a collective body, the council consists of the representatives of differentagencies that often have conflicting interests (the same is true forthe council’s secretariat). They often use sabotage tactics to torpedo theirrivals’ initiatives without a direct confrontation with the president or thecouncil’s secretary.• Foreign policy issues are not a very important priority for the council andare discussed on an occasional rather than regular basis.• Due to its institutional organization, the council is unable to maintaindaily control over the activities of the foreign policy agencies and has tolimit itself only to strategic/conceptual issues.• The council has a powerful competitor, the presidential administration,that does not want to lose its control over the foreign policy apparatus.• The Council now has a figurehead role, merely rubber stamping decisionsmade by others.It seems that the presidential administration is the real coordinator ofRussian-European foreign policies. In September 1997, a special Directorateon Foreign Policy was established within the administration. The directorateshould draft executive initiatives and assist in drafting international treaties,plan foreign trips (in collaboration with the MFA), nominate foreign policy–making candidates, and collect foreign policy information for the president.Unsurprisingly, many of these functions overlap with those of the SecurityCouncil and make the latter a marginal or nominal player. With the start ofhis second presidency, Putin appointed Sergey Yastrzhembsky as a SpecialAssistant on EU Affairs and charged him with coordinating all Russian foreignpolicy agencies with European agendas (plus the Kaliningrad problem).This appointment, however, has provoked some disgruntlement on the partof the MFA and MEDT, who perceived this position as one more redundantbureaucratic structure.To sum up, the problem of coordinating the executive agencies’ Europeanpolicies is not solved yet. Even under Putin (famous for his centralistspirit), there is a lot of unhealthy competition and tension between variousgovernmental institutions. Russia still lacks a single (governmental) voice in

74 ● Alexander SerguninEuropean affairs, and Moscow’s European partners are often unsure of whoto talk to and who to listen to.The Russian parliament is another player on the federal political arena.In the well-developed democracies, the legislature is a crucial and integralpart of the foreign policy decision-making process. However, in Russia thesituation is different. With adoption of the Russian Constitution in December1993, the president became a key figure in foreign policy making. Thepresident “directs the foreign policy of the Russian Federation,” withinthe framework set by the constitution and laws of the country (Constitutionof the Russian Federation 1993, Articles 80 and 86). He no longer needsparliament’s approval for ministerial appointments, or the approval of theSecurity Council (Article 83).The bicameral legislature (the Federal Assembly), then, has quite limitedpowers in the field of foreign policy. On the other hand, it is able toinfluence the executive in some ways. The president needs the legislature’sapproval of his ambassadorial appointees (Article 83 [m]). The lower house,the State Duma, and the upper house, the Council of the Federation (“Senate”)ratify and denounce international treaties (Article 106 [g]). Parliamentalso drafts legislation related to foreign and national security policies (foreigntrade, defense, conversion of the defense industry, national security, etc.).However, its power over legislation is less effective because of the extensiveuse of executive decrees and the president’s right of veto.The legislature can also adopt nonbinding resolutions that have limitedimpact on the executive but cannot be fully ignored by the president. It hassome voice in the budgeting process and may cut or increase appropriationsfor particular foreign policy agencies. The legislature may undertake investigations.The Council of the Federation exercises the sole parliamentary sayin the sending of armed forces abroad. Legislators can also appeal to publicopinion to block some executive initiatives. Finally, the Federal Assemblydevelops cooperation with foreign parliaments and parliamentary assembliesof international organizations (the Council of Europe, European Parliament,NATO, OSCE, etc.). However, none of these prerogatives affords parliamentmuch leverage over policy, and even the legislators themselves acknowledgethis (Rybkin 1995, 28). The Russian parliament’s powers and impact onforeign policy cannot be compared to those of, say, the U.S. Congress.The parliament has an institutional framework for making and even conductingforeign policy. The State Duma has three committees that deal withinternational affairs: the Committee for International Affairs, the Committeefor Defense, and the Committee on Economics (foreign trade, negotiationswith the EU and WTO). The Council of the Federation has, similarly, three

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 75specialized bodies. These committees are comprised of rather competentspecialists. For example, Dmitry Kosachev, current chairman of the Duma’sCommittee for International Affairs, is a graduate of MGIMO (Moscow StateInstitute of International Relations) and has a solid foreign service record.It should be noted that, in contrast with domestic policies, the Russianlegislature rarely clashes with the executive branch in the domain of internationalpolitics (with the possible exception of Moscow’s policies in the“near abroad”). Rather, it usually backs the president in case of internationalcrises or his talks with the EU, Kaliningrad, or the Russian minorities in theBaltic States.For example, the parliament supported Yeltsin during the Kosovocrisis in 1999. There were a number of extremists (mainly from the LiberalDemocratic Party and the Communist Party factions) who called forimmediate military-technical assistance to Serbia and creation of a trilateralunion among Russia, Belarus, and Serbia (Rossiyskaya Gazeta 1999, 1).However, the vast majority of both the State Duma and the Councilof the Federation was against Russia’s direct involvement in the BalkanWar. Moreover, although the Council of the Federation approved funds forsending Russian peace-keepers to Kosovo, many senators expressed theirconcerns about the financial and security implications of peace-keepingoperation for Russia.As in the case of the Yugoslav conflict, the government and parliamenthave often played the famous game of good cop, bad cop with the executivehaving to use a tougher tone with the West because of legislative pressure.Although the legislature does not play any significant role in Russia’sforeign-policy decision making, even Yeltsin realized the need to establisha liaison/consultative mechanism to avoid or prevent unnecessary conflictswith the Federal Assembly. The positions of presidential representatives inthe State Duma and the Council of Federation have been created in responseto these needs. These officials not only monitor the situation in both housesbut take an active part in committee hearings and plenary sessions. They alsodraft legislation, consult deputies, present president-sponsored legislation,invite experts, make a legal assessment of bills pending in parliament, introducepresidential nominees, and deliver presidential messages to parliament(Sergunin 1999). The presidential representatives get secretarial supportfrom the special unit of the presidential administration, which has aroundtwenty-five employees.The post of Representative of the Prime Minister in the Federal Assemblyand Constitutional Court has also been established. One of the high-rankingmembers of the cabinet used to assume this position ex officio. For example,

76 ● Alexander Serguninin June 1999 Pavel Krasheninnikov, the minister of justice, was appointedrepresentative of the government in parliament and to the ConstitutionalCourt (Rossiyskaya Gazeta, 11th June 1999, 26).The legal directorates of both the presidential and cabinet administrationsare responsible for cooperation with parliament in areas such as drafting legislationas well as legal assessment of legislation adopted by the State Duma.The Main Directorate on Domestic and Foreign Policies of the presidentialadministration is charged with gathering information on deputies’ attitudeto president-sponsored legislation. Interestingly, liaison offices not onlyparticipated in the legislative process but also organized training programsfor government officials.Some informal liaison structure has emerged as well. The Foreign andDefence Ministries often sponsor conferences, seminars, and round tableswhere experts from parliament are invited. Different Russian think tanksare also used for informal cooperation between agencies and parliamentarycommittees. These informal channels of communication have been ratherhelpful in reaching an executive-legislative consensus on issues such asNATO and EU enlargement, CFE Treaty, NDI, Kaliningrad, Russia’s policiesin the Baltic Sea region, and so on.However, the existing liaison mechanism is far from perfect. It is reactiverather than proactive. It often simply follows events and developments inEurope rather than foresees or shapes them. The presidential and cabinetliaison structures often duplicate each other. There is a lack of coordinationbetween different executive agencies: this frequently thwarts the government’sschemes and undermines presidential leadership in parliament. Thereis also the impression that the liaison mechanism sometimes looks like anindividual (executive) business rather than a joint executive/legislative venture:while presidential officials are rather persistent in pursuing their interests,the legislature remains passive and indifferent.On a more general note, the legislature could play a more significantrole in Russian foreign policy, making both through its own parliamentarydiplomacy and providing scrutiny and accountability of the executive (perhapsthe main function of the legislature in a democratic society).The second (lower) level of government actors is represented by the membersof the Russian Federation. Prior to the early 1990s (when the Sovietmodel of federalism was camouflage for Unitarianism), the Russian regionshad no say in foreign policy making. However, with the rebirth of the Russianfederative system, many regions saw the development of their internationalcontacts as an important resource both for solving their internal problemsand putting pressure on the federal center (to negotiate more concessionsfor their loyalty to Moscow).

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 77Specialists distinguish two main forms of the regions’ internationalactivities: direct (developing external relations of their own) and indirect(influencing federal foreign policies). Direct methods include:• Creating a regional legislative base: Yeltsin’s regime performed regionalnormative acts aimed at legitimizing the foreign policy of the membersof the federation. By doing this, regional elites tried to carve out theirown policies and thus become more independent from Moscow. In fact, anumber of these acts either contradicted the Russian Constitution or wentbeyond what was envisioned in it. Spheres that in the constitution wereascribed to Moscow exclusively appeared as areas of joint jurisdiction inmany documents. For example, Moscow’s treaties with Bashkortostan,Kabardino-Balkariya, North Ossetia, and Tatarstan granted these republicsthe right to defend their state and territorial integrity. Yekaterinburg,Tatarstan, and Udmurtiya gained authority over the functioning of defenseindustries and arms export. In some documents, regions (Bashkortostan,Tatarstan) had authority to establish relations and conduct agreementswith foreign states. Tuva granted its local parliament the right to declarewar and peace. The Tuvinian constitution even envisaged the right ofsecession. Areas identified in the constitution as spheres of joint authorityappeared in later treaties as the exclusive jurisdiction of regions,including cooperation with foreign governments and international organizations(Bashkortostan, Tatarstan). However, sometimes local legislationhas forestalled its federal counterpart: for example, in encouragingforeign investment and land ownership (e.g., Novgorod the Great).• Treaty-making: Despite the heated debate on the treaty-making powers ofthe center and members of the federation, the regions were quite activein this area. In the 1990s, the Russian regions concluded more than threehundred international agreements, which used to be prepared solely withthe assistance of the MFA. However, some of the agreements that weresigned bypassed Moscow completely. For example, in 1995 Moscowannulled the trade treaty between Kaliningrad and Lithuania because itcame into conflict with federal legislation. Despite these conflicts, thetreaty-making activities of the regions were one of the most effectiveinstruments for strengthening their international prestige.• Establishing representative offices: To facilitate direct cooperation withforeign countries, the regions used to set up trade and cultural missionsabroad. For instance, Tatarstan established offices in sixteen countries.In 1994, upon Tatarstan’s request, Yeltsin sanctioned the establishmentof a Turkish General Consulate in Kazan. Since federal law stipulatedthat representative offices should be at the expense of the regions, few

78 ● Alexander Sergunincould afford having missions abroad. Many regions prefer to rely onfederal structures—Russian embassies and trade missions—to developtheir external relations.• Attracting foreign investment: Some regions succeeded in getting foreigninvestment (Moscow, St. Petersburg, Novgorod) that was crucial for theirdynamic development.• Creating a region’s positive image: To attract foreign investors, many regionslaunched dynamic PR campaigns. They arranged exhibitions and tookpart in international fairs. Moreover, regional leaders undertook foreigntrips with PR purposes. The regions published English-language periodicalsoriented to foreign audiences.• Cooperation with international organizations: To confirm their status asglobal actors, many regions try to develop relations with international organizations.For example, Tatarstan cooperates with UNESCO, UNIDO,the European Congress of Municipal and Regional Governments, and theCouncil of Europe. Furthermore, Tatarstan is a member of the EuropeanRegions Assembly. The northwest regions of Russia cooperate with theCBSS, the Hanseatic League, and the BEAC. It should be noted thatcooperation with international organizations is important for regionsnot only in terms of getting additional leverage in the power strugglewith Moscow, but also in terms of opening up them to the worldwideprocesses of globalization and regionalization.The following are indirect methods:• Influencing federal legislation: Local legislation not only legitimizes theexternal relations of the regions but also affects federal legislation. Forexample, the Nizhny Novgorod Law on International Agreements(1995) has been used by the federal parliament in drafting a law on coordinatingthe external relations of the members of the federation (1999).The comments made by the Nizhny Novgorod regional legislature onthe drafts of federal laws on international treaties of the Russian Federation(1995), state regulation of foreign trade (1995), visas (1997), andthe foreign policy powers of the federation and its members (1999) haveall been taken into account by the State Duma.• Taking part in federal diplomacy: Since federal law envisions the regions’participation in international treaty-making, their representatives usedto be included in official delegations and consulted about the contentof agreements. For example, the representatives of Karelia and Krasnodarassisted the Foreign Ministry in preparing treaties with Finlandand Cyprus, respectively. This was quite helpful in harmonizing federaland regional interests.

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 79• Conflict prevention and resolution: With time, federal authorities realizedthat regionalization can serve as an instrument for problem solvingwith neighboring countries. For example, Kaliningrad’s close cooperationwith Lithuania, Poland, and Germany prevented the rise of territorialclaims on their part and dampened their concerns about excessive militarizationof the region. Cooperation between Finland and Karelia alsoeased Finnish-Russian tensions on the Karelia issue.• “Verbal diplomacy”: To influence federal foreign policies, regional leadersoften make statements about particular international issues. For example,Yuri Luzhkov, the Moscow mayor, protested against the division of theBlack Sea Fleet between Russia and the Ukraine and insisted on Russianjurisdiction over Sevastopol and Crimea. Former Nizhny Novgorodgovernor Boris Nemtsov made a number of negative statements aboutthe prospects of the Russian-Byelorussia Union, thus generating anannoyed response from Minsk. This “verbal diplomacy” demonstrated thegrowing influence of the regions over Russia’s international strategy andhe absence of a political culture among regional elites. In other words, their“diplomacy” was rather detrimental to the Russian national interests.• Exploiting the parliament: The regions use the legislature to lobby fortheir foreign policy interests at the federal level. The Council of the Federation,the upper chamber of the parliament, which under the Yeltsinregime was made up of the regional leaders (governors and speakers oflocal legislative assemblies), was the most popular vehicle for regionallobbying. For example, Prusak, being a chairman of the Foreign AffairsCommittee of the Council of the Federation and the vice president of theParliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe, often used his officialposition to promote Novgorod’s interests. Under Putin, this practicehas been continued, though the composition of the upper chamber hasbeen changed: Now it is composed of regional representatives elected bylocal legislatures.• Capitalizing on federal infrastructure: To influence federal foreign policy, theregions use the institutional structure created by Moscow in the periphery.For example, the Foreign Ministry has established a special unit on interregionalaffairs. The Foreign Ministry, Ministry of Commerce, CustomsCommittee, and Federal Border Service all have offices in those regionsengaged in intensive international cooperation. Theoretically, these agenciesshould coordinate and control the regions’ international contacts.However, they often serve as the regions’ instrument of pressure uponMoscow, rather than the center’s lever over the regions. The problem isthat these agencies are dependent on local authorities in terms of housing,basic provisions, and professional careers. They are usually staffed

80 ● Alexander Serguninby the locals with close connections to regional elites. Another alarmingimplication of regionalization is the dependence of the so-called “powerstructures” (armed forces, police, special services) on local authorities.Given their lack of funds and shortage of food, energy, and accommodation(especially in the 1990s), many military commanders had to applyfor assistance from local governments. This casts doubts on the loyaltyof the “power structures” to Moscow.• Exploiting international organizations: To put pressure on Moscow, theregions managed to use not only federal institutions but also internationalorganizations. For instance, to get a more privileged status (specialeconomic zone, visa-free regime with Lithuania and Poland), Kaliningradquite skillfully exploited venues such as the CBSS and the EU NorthernDimension. The northern areas of Russia are represented at the RegionalCouncil of the BEAC and develop direct ties with neighboring regions inFinland, Norway, and Sweden. With the help of the OSCE, the Councilof Europe, and the Red Cross, Ingushetiya managed to increase the flowof humanitarian assistance to refugees from Chechnya.It should finally be noted that in real life, the regions combine both directand indirect methods of influencing policy because they are complimentaryrather than mutually exclusive.Operationally, there are three main levels of regions’ international activities:bilateral cooperation with the subnational units of foreign countries,cooperation between the interregional associations and foreign partners, andcross-border and transregional cooperation.Bilateral cooperation between members of the Russian Federation andforeign countries (or their subnational units) ranges from economic, social,environmental, and cultural matters to security issues. For example, NizhnyNovgorod has rather close relations with the North Rhine-Westphalia region,Italian Lombardy, and the French Buche-du-Rhone, as they have much incommon with the Nizhny Novgorod economy.The second level of international cooperation is through the externalrelations of the Russian interregional associations. There are a number ofinterregional associations or blocs such as the Northwest Association, theGreater Volga Association, the Chernozem Association, the Ural Association,and the Siberian Accords Association, mainly dealing with economic andsocial issues. The members of these associations meet several times each yearto discuss issues of common interest that need coordination (e.g., transport,communication, food and fuel supplies, and joint projects). However, alongwith domestic affairs, these blocs are increasingly engaging in internationalrelations. For example, the Northwest Association, led by St. Petersburg,

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 81coordinates the foreign economic relations of its members with the Baltic/Nordic countries.The third level of international cooperation is cross-border (cooperativeprojects between regions in neighboring countries) and transregional(collaboration with and within multilateral organizations). For example,Russia’s northwest regions cooperate closely with Nordic countries: Finlandand Karelia traditionally cooperate in areas such as the economy, transport,communication, tourism, ecology, and culture. It should be noted thatcooperation with foreign countries was crucial for many Russian regions interms of survival. For example, after the 1998 financial meltdown, Polandand Lithuania provided Kaliningrad with humanitarian assistance.Along with bilateral channels, there are multilateral institutions such asthe CBSS, BEAC, Nordic Council, Arctic Council, and Black Sea CooperationForum. At the May 1996 Visby Summit, the CBSS adopted an ambitiousrogram for regional cooperation in economics, trade, finance, transportation,communications, conversion, ecology, border and customs control,and fighting organized crime. Within the BEAC, two working groups—the Environment Task Force of the Barents Council and the EnvironmentCommittee of the Barents Regional Council—proved to be successfulin identifying ecological problems in the region and seeking funds forthe implementation of joint projects. Both organizations have been veryhelpful in implementing the so-called Northern Dimension EnvironmentalPartnership (NDEP).The EU is also an important player in transregional cooperation. In the1990s, EU members Finland and Sweden were especially important, sincethey border Russia. Finland was particularly enthusiastic about the so-called“Northern Dimension” of EU policy and hoped to serve as a bridge betweenthe EU and Russia. To promote economic cooperation between the EU andnon-EU countries, Brussels has allocated resources for investment and otherprojects in a program named Interreg. Under the program, Finland couldenlist the economic support of the Russian regions if the partners are ableto provide 50 percent in matching funds. Two of the four Interreg programscovered the northern parts of Russia: Interreg Barents (with a budget of ECUthirty-six million) and Interreg Karelen (with a budget of ECU thirty-twomillion). After the May 2004 EU enlargement, the EU acquired new membersthat border Russia: Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia. Currently,these countries are not very keen on intensive cooperation with Russia (forvarious reasons), but some sustainable transborder links have already beenformed between them and the northwestern Russian regions (Kaliningrad,Pskov, Novgorod, and Leningrad/St. Petersburg).

82 ● Alexander SerguninThe third (and the last) level of governmental actors in Europe-Russiarelations is local government. To date, both Russia and the EU have preferredto focus on intergovernmental or supranational levels (and from timeto time, on the members of the Russian Federation), virtually ignoringthe role of local government. Cooperation at this level is underdeveloped.Meanwhile, it has become commonplace to ascertain that microlevel negotiationsmay be crucial for establishing horizontal networks that couldserve as a solid basis for mechanisms of interdependency. In the 1990s, anumber of the most dynamic Russian cities, such as Moscow, St. Petersburg,Samara, Nizhny Novgorod, Novgorod the Great, Kazan, Kaliningrad,Petrozavodsk, Yekaterinburg, and so on, tried to develop their own relationswith Europe, although each of them had different experiences (both positiveand negative).For the Russian northwestern/border municipalities, the EuroregionsProject (based on engagement of local governments from neighboringcountries) became an important instrument for cooperation with theirEuropean counterparts. As the European experience demonstrates, theEuroregions Project is an efficient tool for solving transborder problems andovercoming socioeconomic and cultural disparities between neighboringregions. It could be a promising venue for subregional cooperation.Currently, local governments from three Russian border regions are partof the Euroregions initiative: Kaliningrad, Karelia, and Pskov. Kaliningardis the most dynamic Russian region in terms of Euroregions participation.Currently, the Kaliningrad region includes five Euroregions (Baltic, Saule,Neman, Sesupe, and Lyna-Lava). Municipalities from Poland, Lithuania,Latvia, Belarus, Denmark, and Sweden cooperate with Kaliningrad townsand counties in the framework of these Euroregions. They deal with issuessuch as the development of regional and municipal transport infrastructure,the energy sector, agricultural technologies, the treatment of waste and sewage,environment, culture, and so on (Sergunin 2006). The same problemsare on the agenda of the Karelian and Pskov Euroregions.Despite some successful projects that were implemented within the frameworkof transborder cooperation (especially the Baltic and Karelia Euroregionsthat exemplify success stories), the overall results of local governmentinternational activities remain rather modest. The Euroregions are basicallyreduced to what common Russians call “bureaucratic tourism” (i.e., exchangesbetween municipalities). With rare exceptions, they do not promote economiccooperation and horizontal links at the people-to-people or NGOlevels. There is no clear division of labor between Euroregions (especially incase of the five Kaliningrad Euroregions). In some cases, there is an unhealthy

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 83competition for funds (EU and Russian) between different Euroregions. Inother words, the Euroregions concept—being a potentially important toolfor subregional cooperation—does not work properly.Nongovernmental ActorsCivil society in Russia is still in embryonic form, and for this reason its impacton foreign policy making is either relatively insignificant or sporadic/chaotic.At the same time, in a democratic society, nongovernmental actors (civilsociety institutions, NGOs, interest groups, etc.) play quite an importantrole in the shaping of a country’s international course. They have severalhelpful functions:• Articulation of foreign policy interests of various interest groups• Formulation of foreign policy objectives of various social groups• Mobilization of public support through political campaigns and massmedia• Ensuring that all actors involved are supplied with useful information onthe subject of public discussion• Lobbying the government to make a relevant foreign policy decision• Providing public control over the governmental international activities• Providing a mechanism for feedback (both positive and critical) about theeffects of governmental policiesAmong the Russian nongovernment actors trying to affect Moscow’sEuropean policy that can be mentioned are the business community, humanrights NGOs (nongovernmental organizations), religious organizations,environmentalists, and public policy centers (see Figure 3.4).Figure 3.4. The Russian foreign policy decision-making system(government and nongovernment levels)Government actorsBusiness community/ Human rights NGOs Religious Environmentalists Public policy centers/lobbies communities think tanksN e t w o r k i n g

84 ● Alexander SerguninThe Business CommunityThere are several Russian business groups interested in economic and tradecontacts with Europe: the energy sector, forestry, fisheries, transport companies,trade firms that specialize in the export and import of consumer goods,and tourism companies. Their roles and influence in Russian decision makingon Europe are different and vary from time to time.It is obvious that energy lobbies—the oil and gas industries and the Russianelectricity company RAO EES—are the most powerful players amongthe various interest groups engaged in the policy-making process. Thesecompanies are major suppliers of energy to Europe. In the future, Europewill be greatly dependent on Russian gas, and one important pipeline will gothrough northern Europe. According to some sources, Russian gas will makeup between 40–70 percent of total EU gas consumption by the year 2020(Leshukov 2000, 31). This makes Europe the largest natural export marketfor Russia’s gas, so there is a clear meeting of interests. Europe will need Russiaand vice versa.For this reason, energy companies are interested in stable economic andpolitical relations between Moscow and Europe. Interestingly, in the 1990s(when Russia’s relations with the Baltic States were quite tense for variousreasons), the energy companies were opposed to economic sanctions againstthe Balts and pressed the government to normalize its political and economicrelations with these countries. Testimony to the strength of this lobby is thatunder its influence, Moscow insisted on including a special provision onenergy purchases in a larger package settling Russian-Lithuanian relations. Atthat time, the gas/oil lobby had a powerful agent in the Russian government,Prime Minister Chernomyrdin, a founding father of Gazprom and a leaderof the Russian gas industry.Over the last decade, the Russian and European energy sectors havehad ambitious plans to develop regional energy infrastructure. They heavilylobbied the EU and the Russian government to create an institutionalframework for these projects. One of the early positive results of such lobbyistactivities was the creation of the EU Commission’s Baltic Energy TaskForce, to deal with energy projects in the region, in which Russia was alsoactively involved.As a result of joint business-government initiatives, the Baltic Sea RegionEnergy Cooperation (BASREC) has been launched. Four ad hoc groups havebeen created within the areas of electricity, gas, climate issues, and energy efficiency(Council of the European Union 2001, 8). In the Barents Euro-ArcticCouncil, a wide network of actors working with energy efficiency, energysavings, and renewable energy resources has been established as well.

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 85Reflecting the pressure of Russian and European energy companies, theEU Northern Dimension Action Plans (NDAPs, 2000–3 and 2004–6)defined the following strategic objectives with regard to the energy sector:the creation of conditions for trading energy across borders without any discriminationdue to national affiliation; the integration of energy markets,climate issues, energy efficiency, and renewable energy; and using the BalticSea region as a testing ground for the Kyoto flexible mechanisms (Councilof the European Union 2000; Commission of the European Communities2003). The CBSS was seen as the main vehicle for NDI activities in theenergy sector.At the same time, Russian energy companies (which are strictly controlledby the government) were concerned about their overdependence on theBaltic States and Poland for of oil and gas transit. One issue that they wereunsatisfied about was the high transit fees: Russian companies had to payseven hundred million dollars a year to Latvia for oil transit. Between 1992and 1999, these companies paid more than five billion dollars in transitfees. 4 In addition, Russia disliked EU political demands to break up its energysector and split oil, gas, and electricity giants into smaller companies. This iswhy instead of developing cooperative projects with the EU in the sphere ofenergy infrastructure, the Russian business community (with the full supportof the government) has opted for unilateral actions or bilateral (country-tocountry)projects.The construction of the Baltic Pipeline System (BPS) was the first largescaleproject of this sort. The BPS, operational since 2002, ships oil from theRussian high north and Urals to the coastal terminal in the Leningrad region(150 kilometers north of St. Petersburg). It brings sixty-five million tons ofcrude oil to European countries, which in terms of capacity is comparablewith the terminals on the Black Sea coast (Novorossiysk, Tuapse). Accordingto a representative of Transneft (a member of the consortium that runsthe BPS), Russia saves two hundred million dollars by bypassing Latvia viathe Russian Baltic ports.Another project that is underway is the North European Gas Pipeline(NEGP). This pipeline is planned to bring gas from the Arctic Ocean shelfto Germany and probably to other European countries (Denmark and theUK) via Russian territory and then the bottom of the Baltic Sea. This projectignores earlier proposals by Finland, the Baltic States, and Poland to constructa land-based version of this pipeline via their territories. Gazprom andits German partners also ignore environmental concerns related to potentialdisasters involving the underwater pipeline or the risk to damage Germanchemical weapons buried in the Baltic Sea after World War II. The membersof the NEGP consortium believe that a new pipeline will free them from

86 ● Alexander Sergunintransit fees, political blackmailing from the transit countries, and make gasshipment to Europe more reliable. This issue, however, has become a bone ofcontention among EU countries as well as between the EU and Russia. ThoseEU countries that perceive themselves as losers obstruct both the energy dialoguebetween Brussels and Moscow as well as the beginning of EU-Russianegotiations on a new cooperative agreement that should replace the existingPartnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA).To sum up, the influence of the Russian energy sector plays a rather contradictoryrole in EU-Russia relations. On the one hand, it is interested inexpanding energy dialogue and cooperation with Europe, but on the otherhand, it presses the Russian government to opt in favor of unilateral or bilateral(country-to-country, company-to-company) rather than multilateralprojects, complementary to the logic of the EU.Other business groups are less influential in Russian decision making onEurope. For example, in the 1990s, the Russian timber industry put pressureon Moscow to increase quotas for exporting timber to European countries(Neva News 1996, 6). However, the federal government preferred to developtimber processing in the country so that it could produce furniture, paper,cardboard, and building materials. For this reason, both central and regionalauthorities favored foreign investment and foreign know-how in this sectorof the Russian economy. Some Russian regions, such as Novgorod Oblastand Karelia, were quite successful in establishing joint ventures with foreignpartners and promoting their local products on the domestic andinternational markets.Russian transport companies enthusiastically supported EU-Russia plansto upgrade and develop the existing transport infrastructure in western andnorthwestern Russia. They were particularly interested in developing twopan-European transport corridors: (1) Berlin-Warsaw-Moscow-NizhnyNovgorod-Yekaterinburg and (2) Helsinki-St. Petersburg-Moscow-Kiev-Crete. Kaliningrad’s business community was especially interested in developingtwo branches of the second corridor—via Baltica and via Hanseatica.Russian tourism companies are also very keen on establishing stable anddynamic relations with European partners. In some regions they succeededin establishing special associations to lobby local and federal authorities aswell as foreign embassies to ease visa and border control regimes. For example,in the late 1990s, the Kaliningrad Tourist Business Association concludeda series of agreements with the local representative offices of the RussianForeign Ministry, State Customs Committee, and Federal Border Serviceto simplify visa, customs, and border control formalities for tourists. Thisscheme was quite efficient until both Lithuania and Poland introduced anew visa regime with Russia in 2003.

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 87In other words, the influence of the business community on Russiandecision making about Europe is growing.Human Rights NGOsThese organizations have focused their activities on two areas:• Domestic issues. Russian human rights activists tried to mobilize European/international support for solving Russian domestic problems, such asintroduction of an alternative military service and the protection ofyoung soldiers from bullying in the armed forces. The leading internationalhuman rights organizations (Amnesty International, TransparencyInternational, etc.) cooperate with Russian NGOs and even establishlocal representative offices to monitor the situation from inside thecountry. Human rights–oriented European organizations (the Councilof Europe, OSCE, European Parliament, NATO Parliamentary Assembly,etc.) also help Russian NGOs and send fact-finding missions to themost problematic regions.• International issues. Human rights NGOs are mostly interested in protectingRussian-speaking minorities in the post-Soviet republics (the BalticStates, Trans-Caucasus, Moldova, Central Asia). The Russian Society forCooperation with Compatriots Abroad (est. in 1990) is the leading organizationthat has, since the early 1990s, tried to help the twenty-sevenmillion ethnic Russians abroad to migrate to the motherland or to protecttheir rights in the country of their residence. Although human rightsactivists’ rhetoric often was a product for domestic consumption ratherthan a serious alternative to government policies, these NGOs succeededin attracting public attention to the problem and forced the governmentto develop a special strategy on the Russian-speaking minorities abroadand charge Russian diplomatic trade and other missions with the protectionof their rights.Religious OrganizationsDepending on the nature of their confession, different religious groups hadvarious foreign policy interests. Yet the main religious influence, the RussianOrthodox Church (ROC), had (and still has) two major priorities in regardsto European politics:• The ROC was one of the first protectors of Russian national minoritiesin the post-Soviet countries. At the same time, the church has specificallyruled out the use of force to protect Russians living in the “near abroad.”

88 ● Alexander SerguninIt has proposed that the Russian government should conclude bilateralagreements on national minorities’ status within the ex-Soviet republics.The government should also use the law enforcement mechanisms of theUN, OSCE, and other international organizations dealing with humanrights. The church itself has tried to influence those governments involvedin human rights violations through its numerous international contacts,especially by participating in the work of the World Council of Churches,the Conference of European Churches, and other ecumenical bodies(Petlyuchenko 1993, 65).• Another concern of the ROC is the aggressive infiltration of foreign confessions(Catholicism, Protestantism, etc.) and sects (including totalitarianones). The church has charged these missionaries with dishonest behavior:they have used Orthodoxy’s financial difficulties to undermine itsinfluence in Russia. By distributing humanitarian aid and free literature,buying newspaper space, and broadcasting time, they have tried to divertpotential Orthodox believers from their religion. Particularly alarming forthe church is that some of those missionaries/sects have tried to persuadepeople that the Orthodox religion supports them. They have borrowedcomponents of Orthodox doctrine and used Orthodox religious symbols,a practice that the church has seen as outright sacrilege (Petlyuchenko1993, 69–70).The ROC has even called for the Russian government to stop anti-Orthodox activities. The church insisted that the Russian Foreign Ministryand security services should pay more attention to the “subversive” activitiesof various foreign sects in Russia.Other Russian religious groups have been less interested in Europeanpolitics. Perhaps the only exception is the efforts of the Tatar Muslims toestablish their relations with the Tatar migrant communities around Europe.Kazan occasionally organizes the World Tatar Congress and uses its Islamicconnections to bring in the most authoritative Tatar leaders from abroad.EnvironmentalistsThe environmental movement has rapidly spread in post-Communist Russiaand for a while became influential in domestic politics. Indeed, a great numberof post-perestroika leaders started their political careers as environmentalists.The Russian “greens,” for example, succeeded in promoting AcademicianAlexei Yablokov to the post of State Counsellor on Ecology and Health Care,thus becoming their major voice in the government.

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 89Under the pressure of environmentalists, nearly all of the leading schoolsof political thought included an ecological dimension in their concept ofsecurity. A special section on ecological security was put into the RussianNational Security Concepts of 1997 and 2000 (Yeltsin 1997).Environmentalists believe that traditional diplomatic methods are notsufficient for resolving the ecological problems that have now tended tobecome global rather than national. They believe that Russia, along withthe entire world, should develop New Thinking based on a common interestin survival in the face of global problems (Plimak 1996). Environmentalistsare quite radical in their recommendations regarding solutions to globalproblems. They recommend the dissolution of political boundaries and ade-ideologizing of international relations (except, of course, for environmentalismitself). In order to cope with ecological problems, they say thathumankind should be able to forecast both the near and distant future,considering all the components of these problems in their historical andphysical developments. Since only scientists are able to make good forecasts,this stratum should be elevated to the very top of society and charged withpolitical management as well. National and international economies shouldbe based on new technologies targeted at the rational exploitation of naturalresources. Furthermore, transnational rather than national bodies should bein charge of global problems, as nation-states are unable to cope with themany longer (Burlak 1992).The environmentalists’ pressure on both the Russian government and theEU resulted in the establishment of the NDEP in 2001. The NDEP aims ataddressing environmental hot spots in the Northern Dimension area, whichare largely a legacy of the former planned-economy period and have crossboundaryimpacts. Within the Russian NDI area, the NDEP focuses particularlyon problems such as wastewater and nuclear waste treatment. TheNDEP gives priority to the Archangel, Kaliningrad, Leningrad, Murmansk,Novgorod, and Pskov oblasts. The partnership pools the financial resourcesnot only of the EU but also of regional and global financial institutions.Public Policy CentersIndependent think tanks are quite a new phenomenon for Russia. In theSoviet era, foreign policy expertise was concentrated either in party/governmentagencies or in the academic institutions working for the government.The rise of independent public centers is an important characteristic of Russianpolitical and intellectual life in the post-communist era. Most of thecenters were created for purely political purposes such as monitoring and

90 ● Alexander Serguninproviding expertise. For this reason, few of them have been oriented to purelyscientific research.Among the centers, belonging to the first group (servicing foreign policymaking), Sergei Karaganov’s Council on Foreign and Defense Policy (CFDP)is the biggest and most influential. The council was established in February1992 as an independent nongovernmental organization. The councilis directed by an assembly consisting of prominent figures in government,business, academia, and the mass media. The council has a small permanentstaff and a number of part-time staff for specific projects.The council’s activities include regular meetings and informal discussionsamong policy analysts and decision makers; conferences, seminars, anddiscussion groups; research projects; an education campaign in the massmedia; and consulting and training for technical and social assistance programs.The CFDP does not conduct projects at the request of governmentstructures but chooses the topic of research on its own initiative.Although the council claims that it is not an analytical think tank, itunites the leading Russian specialists in foreign and defense policy and aimsat providing decision-makers with recommendations on the following topics:Russian national interests, threat assessment, the development and evaluationof new strategic concepts, regional and global security, ethnic and religiousconflicts, arms control, conversion, and so on (Sergunin 2003, 63).The Russian Foreign Policy Foundation (RFPF) was another influentialnongovernmental actor in the decision-making process. The foundationwas established in 1992 on the initiative of the Foreign Ministry by theDiplomatic Academy, International Affairs magazine, and several powerfulRussian banks (Incombank, Avtovazbank, Menatep) and companies(KAMAZ, LUKoil, and others). From the very beginning, the RFPF wasdesigned to bring together the Russian foreign policy and business communityas well as harmonize their interests. For this reason, it paid moreattention to practical rather than research activities.The foundation held several conferences a year and published their proceedings.These included conferences on conflict prevention and resolutionand disputes in the Caspian Sea and Black Sea regions, Kaliningrad, andAsia-Pacific. The RFPF was very active in establishing contacts with Russianregions, such as Kaliningrad, Karelia, Krasnodar, Novosibirsk, and the RussianFar East and opened regional offices in Krasnodar and Novosibirsk.Among other policy-oriented independent centers, the Foundation ofPolitical Studies (Andrei V. Fedorov), the Politics Foundation (VyacheslavA. Nikonov), the Russian Public Policy Center (Alexei Salmin), Russian-American University Corporation (Alexei Podberezkin), the Center forEthno-Political and Regional Studies (Emil Pain), the Center for National

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 91Security and International Relations (Sergei Rogov), the Institute for DefenseStudies (Viktor Surikov), and others should be mentioned. The secondgroup of independent research centers that tries to combine applied andfundamental research includes the Moscow Carnegie Center (notably AlexeiMalashenko, Nikolai Petrov, Dmitry Trenin, and Lilia Shevtsova), the formerMoscow Public Research Foundation (Andrei Kortunov), the Centerfor Strategic Assessments (Sergei Oznobishchev, Alexei Konovalov), theCenter for Russian Political Research (Vladimir Orlov), and the GorbachevFoundation (Dmitry Furman and Victor Kuvaldin).Interestingly, independent think tanks have emerged outside of Moscowas well. For example, the St. Petersburg expert community includes theBaltic Research Center (Russian policies in Northern Europe, EU-Russiaenergy dialogue), the Center for Integration Research and Programs (politicsin the Baltic Sea region, Russian policies in East Europe), and the Baltic Club(Baltic studies). The Nizhny Novgorod region also has policy-oriented researchcenters: the Nizhny Novgorod Center for Socio-Economic Expertise (Russiansecurity policies in Europe, Russian foreign policy making), the NizhnyNovgorod Policy Study Center (NATO-Russia and EU-Russia relations),and Rus-Expert-Transit (European security architecture, EU-Russia energydialogue, conversion of Russian defense industry), among others.Of course, the roles and authority of these think tanks differ from centerto center. Most of them are useful in terms of generating public discussionson Europe-Russia relations, rather than influencing Russia’s decision-makingprocess at the level of policy. However, they certainly make the intellectuallandscape of the Russian expert community more interesting and diverse.ConclusionsThe Russian decision-making system on Europe has evolved rapidly over thelast fifteen years. One can make the case for both positive and negative orproblematic changes. Looking on the bright side of this dynamic process, wecan identify the following promising trends:• Russia’s European policy has become less ideological and more pragmatic,oriented to national interests.• The chaos of the early 1990s has been overcome, and a more-or-less stabledecision-making machinery on Europe has been created in the executivebranch of government.• A more-or-less reliable civilian control over the military and other socalled“power” agencies have been established. The Defense Ministry andthe Russian intelligence community are of secondary importance in the

92 ● Alexander Sergunindecision-making process. They are guided by the political structures(the presidential administration and cabinet) rather than being (semi-)independent actors.• Elements of parliamentary control over the decision-making process havebeen created. The Russian legislature (although it is much weaker than itsU.S. or European counterparts) has some important functions, such as the“power of the purse,” parliamentary investigations, and diplomacy.• An executive-legislative liaison/consultative mechanism has been established,and it facilitated the dialogue between the Kremlin and the legislatureon European politics.• The role of the Russian regional and local governments became moresalient in foreign policy making. The federal center had to take into accountregional interests and preferences as regards their relations with Europeanpartners. Moscow has also had to allow some sort of horizontal or networkedtype of relationships between regional and local governments andtheir corresponding equals in Europe. Cross- and trans-border cooperationbrought about a number of success stories in several Europe-orientedRussian regions—Kaliningrad, Karelia, Novgorod, Murmansk, etc.• Nongovernmental actors have some say in foreign policy making. TheRussian business community (especially the energy sector) has become aninfluential player in Moscow’s European policy making. Relatively newpolitical actors, such as human rights and environmental NGOs, religiouscommunities, and independent think tanks became an integral part ofthe decision-making process. In contrast with the Soviet period whenforeign policy making was a purely elitist business, the current Russianpolitical leadership has to take into account the various interests of differentsegments of an emerging Russian civil society.At the same time, numerous problems in the organization and practical operationsof the Russian decision-making mechanism can be found:• First, the decision-making system of the government is still far from ideal.There is a lack of a proper division of labor between different executiveagencies regarding European politics. These agencies differ in their conceptualapproaches to Russia’s European policy. There is an unhealthycompetition between them for influence, funds, resources, personnel, andaccess to information.• Russia’s parliament has too few powers to take an active part in the shapingof Moscow’s European policy. It is also unable to provide proper publicscrutiny and accountability. This makes the Kremlin too independentin its European policy initiatives.

Russian Foreign-Policy Decision Making on Europe ● 93• The role of Russian regional and local governments in foreign policy makingis still ambivalent. The federal center is too jealous of its foreign policypowers. A number of promising international regional projects (NorthernDimension, Euroregions) have found themselves in a bind because ofthe lack of federal support. It is a long way to go to revive these projectsand put them in line with European standards (though the potential andresources are still there).• Although civil society and its institutions have come into the picture andnow have some minor say in foreign policy making, it should be noticedthat a lot has been done to transform nongovernmental actors into fullfledgedpolicy players. There is still discrepancy between the interests ofRussian foreign policy elites and the civil society that often wants a differentEuropean strategy from the government. What is especially important isthat the Russian government actors treat expertise, including expertisehoused in think tanks, with respect. In sum, a more reliable feedbacksystem from civil society is needed.Notes1. The vast majority of the Russian academic community does not view the Russianmass media as an independent actor, neither in domestic nor foreign politics.Rather, Russian experts believe that the mass media is used by other, more powerfulactors, such as oligarchs, political parties, government, and so on, as an instrumentin their power struggle.2. Even Putin’s 2007 decision to suspend the CFE Treaty until the NATO countriesratify this agreement is better explained by the general change of Moscow’sforeign policy rather than by MoD’s influence.3. The location of the MFA in Moscow4. http://www.nefte.ru/projekt/r20.htm.

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PART 3Russia and Europe:Relationship under Construction

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CHAPTER 4Russia’s Creeping Challengeto European NormsEuropean Promotion of Abolitionof the Death Penalty in RussiaSinikukka SaariIntroductionEuropean intergovernmental organizations, such as the Council ofEurope (CoE), the Organization for Security and Cooperationin Europe (OSCE), and the European Union (EU), have taken up thetask of actively promoting human rights in Russia. Europeans have becomeincreasingly active in their practice of promoting human rights in otherstates since the end of the cold war. The collapse of communism in the late1980s was generally seen as a victory of Western liberal norms. Organizationsbased on those norms were eager to tie the liberated Eastern European statesmore closely to their structures of cooperation. The transitioning states, onthe other hand, wanted to improve their international standing and domesticlegitimacy by engaging in normative international cooperation. At the time,the picture looked fairly clear-cut: Russia, among other East European states,was to transform itself into a liberal democratic state based on respect forhuman rights, rule of law, and a functioning market economy. By internalizingWestern norms and values through international cooperation, Russiawould become a full-fledged member of “common European home.”As we now know, reality turned out to be more complex than wasenvisaged at the time. Only a few Eastern European states have been fullyintegrated into European structures with undoubted commitments to liberalvalues; some other states have developed into autocratic states where

98 ● Sinikukka Saariviolations of human rights are an everyday occurrence. Some states, includingRussia, hang on the edges of the European “solidarist state society” (Bull1966)—not clearly inside or outside of it.To this day, Russia continues to be actively engaged in human rightscooperation within the OSCE, the CoE, and the EU. Results of cooperationand assistance have been modest. Normative change has provedto be extremely hard to promote from the outside, and on many issues,Russia is still nowhere near meeting European standards (Mendelson 2001).Paraphrasing the old functionalist slogan, one could describe the normativecooperation between Russia and the European organizations as “form butnot function.”This development would seem to go against the expectations of constructivistsocialization literature, which aims to explain the normative influenceof international actors on states. This chapter explores the explanatorypower of these ideas by contrasting theoretical assumptions on socializationto empirical developments in Russia. The process of norm socialization isexamined through a case study on how well the European norm of abolitionof the death penalty has been internalized by Russia. The goal of thischapter is to find out if the socialization literature’s assumptions on internationalnorm transfer are applicable to the relations between Russia andthe European organizations.Explaining Normative Cooperation and Domestic ChangeFairly recent theories on state socialization have attempted to explain normative,ideational domestic change—for example, the decision to start liberalizingand opening up an authoritarian state, or to commit to internationalagreements on human rights.The constructivist socialization literature has attempted to offer a theorylikemodel for change and the causal relations embedded in it. Constructivisttheorists have directed their attention to the ways in which internationalrules and norms are transferred from one party to another, usually from astate, international organization, or transnational network to another state(Zürn and Checkel 2005, 1045–79). The socialization literature looksat fundamental domestic social change as a multilevel process of normadaptation and endeavors to reveal the causal mechanisms and modes ofaction involved in the transformation process. The socialization literaturehas not been restricted to the study of human rights and democratic norms,but it also covers broader topics, for example, transference of securityand environmental norms (Evangelista 1999; O’Neill, Balsiger, and Vandeveer2004).

Russia’s Creeping Challenge to European Norms ● 99The most comprehensive attempt to formulate a multilevel model ofsocialization has been in a volume titled The Power of Human Rights: InternationalNorms and Domestic Change (1999), edited by Thomas Risse, StephenRopp, and Kathryn Sikkink. Risse and Sikkink outline a particular modelof socialization to human rights, which is claimed to be universally applicable;socialization to human rights norms is expected to happen throughthe same pathways in all social contexts. The “spiral model” draws a trajectoryof state socialization to international human rights and identifies thecausal mechanisms as well as the dominant actors at play in each of the stagesof the development. It embraces the interplay between international, state,transnational and substate levels. The most important factor in the processis claimed to be formation and sustainability of a transnational humanrights advocacy network. The network links domestic and transnationalactors together with international organizations, Western public opinion,and Western governments (Risse and Sikkink 1999).The Risse-Sikkink socialization model is constructivist in that it mixesrationalist, material, interest-based mechanisms (bargaining, instrumental calculations)with more socially constructed mechanisms (argumentative rationality,habitualization). Its analysis is rooted in constructivist understanding,which asserts that states seek to act according to their identities. Identitiesare definitions of self in relation to others, and they are constructed—andreconstructed—in intersubjective processes between states and internationalstructures (Katzenstein 1996). States care about their international reputationand can become entrapped in their own words. Alongside material gainsand power, values and ideas matter in international relations. 1The Risse-Sikkink Model of SocializationThe five-phase socialization model starts with a repressive society where humanrights norms are denied. Only if and when the transnational advocacy networksucceeds in putting the norm-violating state on the international agenda doesthe process move to the next phase. During the second phase, denial, thereis growing international awareness of human rights violations taking placein the target state. Transnational advocacy groups gather information onviolations and internationally lobby for the cause. The government is expectedto deny the validity of international human rights norms and insist thatany criticism is a violation of the noninterference principle in internationalrelations (Risse and Sikkink 1999, 22–24).However, if international pressure continues and escalates, the governmentis likely to make minor concessions to pacify international critics.The third phase is thus characterized by tactical concessions on human rights

100 ● Sinikukka Saariissues by the repressive government. The government acts purely out ofinstrumental calculations: it is trying to get something out of the concessionin the field of human rights (economic assistance, for example). The spiralmodel expects concessions to eventually facilitate further social mobilizationin the target country. At this stage, the state moves toward more enduringchanges in human rights and democratization; or, alternatively, it maylaunch a backlash against human rights. However, the potential backlash isexpected to be merely a temporary suspension in the progress toward humanrights socialization. During the phase of tactical concessions, the dominantmechanisms at play are strategic bargaining and instrumental adaptationon the government side, and consciousness-raising, dialogue, and persuasionon the advocacy network side. When the next phase is approaching,an “argumentative self-entrapment” takes over, and argumentation andpersuasion will become the dominant causal mechanisms. It is expected thatonce the government opens the door for limited liberalization, socializationto democracy and human rights will almost automatically follow. Thegovernments seem to have only little say in this as they are bound to become“trapped in their own words” and lose control of the situation (Risse andSikkink 1999, 26–27).The next stage, prescriptive status, denotes that the target state’s governmentaccepts the validity of human rights norms without reservations. Thestate commits itself domestically and internationally to the implementationof human rights norms and standards. The government creates institutionalarrangements in order to secure human rights for its citizens. There maystill be some problems in the implementation of international human rightsstandards, but the government is firmly committed—both in words andin deeds—to the values and strives for the implementation of the norms.The official discourse on the norm becomes consistent on human rights.During this phase, the dominant mechanisms at play are consciousnessraising,dialogue, and persuasion (Risse and Sikkink 1999, 29–31).The final stage in the socialization to human rights is rule-consistentbehavior. Risse and Sikkink maintain that during this final stage, the processesof institutionalization and habitualization reign, and norms becomefirmly internalized by the target state and its society. During this phase,human rights are fully institutionalized, and norm compliance becomes ahabitual practice (Risse and Sikkink 1999, 31–35).Debates around SocializationThe Risse-Sikkink model is naturally not the only model of socialization.Indeed, many researchers have outlined their own models and research

Russia’s Creeping Challenge to European Norms ● 101agendas for the study of state socialization. Regardless, the spiral model isalmost always used as the reference point in subsequent articles and books.Even though there has been a vivid debate on state socialization, the maintheses of the Risse-Sikkink model have not been challenged (Alderson 2001;Thomas 2001; Schimmelfennig 2002; Thies 2003; Checkel 2005; Zürn andCheckel 2005; Flockhart 2006). However, many of these contributions havehelped to ameliorate some of the shortcomings of the model.One of the most crucial points of criticism has been the bias againstruling elites embedded in the model. Socialization to international normsnaturally does not always happen because of transnational network and civilresistance. Sometimes the change in a state takes place through top-downprocesses: that is, elites internalize norms first, and society gradually followsafter them. There are more possible pathways to internalization than theRisse-Sikkink model suggests (Checkel 2001; Flockhart 2006).Another addition to the model has been the realization that domesticstructures such as culture may condition the socialization effect of internationalnorms. Daniel Thomas, for example, has claimed that domesticidentity should be added to the analysis as an independent variable. Heclaims that gaps between rhetoric in the international arena and actualimplementation of norms domestically stem from incompatible domesticand international identities. A change in identities can either encourage ordiscourage socialization. Thus, according to Thomas, domestic structuresmatter more than the Risse-Sikkink model suggests (Thomas 2001). Otherresearchers have made similar points on the importance of domestic structures(Checkel 1999; Thies 2003).More generally, a considerable amount of work has been done in identifyingscope conditions for normative impact of international norms—anissue that the Risse-Sikkink model leaves almost untouched. For example,according to Frank Schimmelfennig, one of the preconditions for successfulsocialization on the international level is an asymmetrical relationshipbetween the international actors and the state in question. This structuralcondition makes the state more sensitive to the policies of organizations.For softer argumentative and ideational socialization processes to occur,the organizations need to have normative power. This arrives from unquestionedauthority and legitimacy of the organization. In terms of initiatinginstrumental socialization mechanisms, the organization will need to havegood material bargaining power. It needs to be able to pursue coercive actioneffectively and credibly (Schimmelfennig 2002).In his book The Power of Legitimacy among Nations, Thomas Franckargues that international rules have a stronger ability to induce voluntarycompliance by states if rules and the rule-making processes are characterized

102 ● Sinikukka Saariby determinacy, symbolic validation, coherence, and adherence (Franck 1990).Determinacy means the transparency and textual clarity of the norm: theclearer the norm, the more likely its implementation (see also Legro 1997,31–61). Symbolic validation means that some ritualistic act or traditiongives the norm stronger legitimacy, and thus there are stronger imperativestoward implementation. For instance, signing a treaty or passing a law createsan air of legitimacy around international agreements. Coherence impliesthat the norm is interpreted and implemented widely and consistently.Adherence refers to a norm hierarchy: there needs to be an organized chain ofnorms. For example, there exists a primary rule of respect for human rightsand secondary rules about its practical interpretation and implementation.The rule is likely to obligate if there exists the framework of an organizednormative hierarchy (see also Raustiala and Slaughter 2002). Additionally,in a commonsensical way, it has been argued that the less material resourcesthat are needed to carry out the changes, the more likely their implementation(O’Neill, Balsiger and VanDeveer 2004, 149–75). Finally, some authorsargue that technical norms are more easily adopted by states than political ones(Schimmelfennig 2002).There are also several domestic conditions that influence the efficiencyof international socialization efforts. The efforts are enhanced if there is astrong domestic salience of the norm in question. This means that the domesticnorms, values, interests, and practices do not clash with that norm that isbeing promoted by the international actors. The more domestic salience theinternational norm has, the more likely are the mechanisms of argumentation,persuasion, and ultimately institutionalization. Also, domestic structuresplay an important role in defining which pathways of socialization are likelyto be decisive. The structures determine whose interests are likely to prevailwhen the norms are contested (Schimmelfennig 2002).Ernst Haas has also suggested in his work on learning that change inbehavior is more likely when there are high levels of desirability, possibility,and urgency (Haas 1990). These points can be generalized into a hypothesison state socialization. The desirability of normative change means thatthere is problem that needs to be solved, or that there is strong pressure frombelow, above, or outside to adopt the norm in question. There is possibilitythat denotes the means of reassessment are available (for example, newinformation and knowledge on the issue). Urgency, on the other hand,means that change is more likely when there is the time pressure of a crisissituation.Despite vivid discussion, the points of convergence in the debate onsocialization have been more dominant than points of divergence. There are

Russia’s Creeping Challenge to European Norms ● 103three typical features of the constructivist socialization research in internationalrelations:1. The dominance of international and (sometimes) domestic structuresover agents. Once certain conditions have been met and the process hasbeen kicked off, the process progresses almost automatically. There is littleneed for agency or politics after the initial kick-off stage, and socializationpathways are structurally predetermined.2. Norms are the moving forces of the socialization process. Norms areoften considered little black boxes that are and will always remainthe same regardless of context. The ideational and cultural side ofsocialization is considered—if indeed considered at all—to be of onlysecondary importance.3. Socialization is essentially considered a one-way adaptation process to thecontents of those little black boxes called norms. Norms are transferredfrom the international system to the domestic. Socialization may fail, butthe failure only affects the target state: It does not reflect back to the systemfrom whence it came, nor does it affect the norms generated there.In the next section I will test these assumptions on socialization throughthe exploration of European attempts to transport the norm of abolition ofthe death penalty to Russia.Testing the Assumptions on Socialization:Russia and the Abolition of the Death PenaltyAbolition as a European NormThe death penalty can be defined as a judicially ordered execution of a convictas a punishment for crime. Since the mid-1980s, Europe has acted asa global pioneer in the development of the norm of abolition of the deathpenalty. The current European abolitionist norm includes abolition of thedeath penalty both in practice and in law 2 . There is a strong trend towarderadication of the death penalty without exception. In 1983 the Council ofEurope accepted Protocol No. 6 to the European Convention for the Protectionof Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms (commonly known asEuropean Convention on Human Rights, ECHR) concerning the abolitionof the death penalty for ordinary crimes (ECHR 1950 with amendmentsand additional protocols) 3 . The use of the death penalty during war formilitary crimes was excluded from the protocol. This protocol has been ratifiedby all twenty-seven EU member states and all CoE member states with

104 ● Sinikukka Saarithe exception of the Russian Federation (RF). Further, in 2002 the CoEadopted Protocol No. 13 to the ECHR concerning the abolition of the deathpenalty in all circumstances, including military crimes during war (ECHR1950 with amendments and additional protocols). This protocol has beenratified by twenty-two EU member states and thirty-seven CoE members.The remaining five EU member states have already signed the protocol andare in the process of ratifying it. 4The European norm is thus tied to the formal abolition: de facto abolitionismis not considered enough. 5 The norm is based on the idea that thedeath penalty is not an issue of the criminal justice sustem of every sovereignstate, but an international issue of human rights.Norm-specific conditions are generally favorable for norm adaptation.The norm has been defined in a clear manner in two legally binding documents(Protocol No. 6 and No. 13 to the ECHR). Clearly worded, legallybinding documents also imply that requirement for symbolic validation ishigh (Franck 1990). Likewise, the coherence of and consensus on the normis high in Europe: the requirement of abolition and practical implementationof the norm is the same for all CoE members. Finally, adherence to thenorm is strong, and a clear hierarchy has been established (Franck 1990).Abolition has to be done according to certain formalized procedures, whichare outlined in the protocols. Hence, according to Franck’s criteria, thereshould be a strong pull to adopt and implement the norm in practice by theCoE member states. The implementation of the norm does not require vastresources to be carried out, at least in countries where the death penalty wasapplied restrictively. The only scope condition that implies potential difficultiesin the socialization process is that the norm has a high political profile.European Attempts to Promote Abolition of the Death PenaltyDespite the fact that the CoE, the EU, and the OSCE are all proabolitionorganizations, their individual strategies for promotion of abolition differconsiderably. The most lenient of the three is the OSCE, whose membershipis not dependent on it. The organization does encourage discussionon the topic, requires more transparent and human application of it, andpromotes the goal of abolition. It also monitors the situation in all of itsmember states. 6 Seven of the OSCE’s fifty-six member states continue toretain the death penalty in some form (OSCE 2007). 7The early post–cold war East-West discussion on the abolition of thedeath penalty took place almost exclusively within the Conference forSecurity and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) 8 ; but later on, the CoE and

Russia’s Creeping Challenge to European Norms ● 105the EU took the lead in campaigning for the abolition of the death penalty.The CSCE/OSCE has moved in the background. The abolition issue is nota high-priority one for the OSCE, and its modest strategy attempts to invokeargumentative rationality. Russia is expected to socialize the norm by regulardiscussion on the topic and through gradual exposure to the normal practicesof the majority of the OSCE states. The methods are very delicate and soft.Pressure and coercive means are not used, and the engagement level on theissue is low. The organization has low leverage on the issue, as the stronglyretentionist United States has been a OSCE member from the outset.By applying for CoE membership in 1992, Russia committed herselfto the requirements that came with it. In the early 1990s, the CoE was ina very good position to influence Russian policies on the death penalty.Russia wanted to become a member and was willing to be judged by thesame standards as everyone else in the CoE. Further, there was a strongasymmetrical relationship between the actors. The organization was anauthoritative institution, and Russia wanted to get recognition from it.The CoE norms had been agreed without Russia’s involvement. As HiskiHaukkala argues in his chapter, at this time the CoE was clearly the normgiverand Russia the norm-taker. The CoE had bargaining power on humanrights, and its engagement level was high on the issue.The CoE’s policy on the death penalty aimed at invoking all three mechanismsof change: bargaining and instrumental rationality, persuasion andargumentative rationality, and the formal institutionalization of norms inRussia. By taking Russia into the organization in 1996, the CoE lost its mostefficient material bargaining tool, namely premembership conditionality.The organization has used instruments such as monitoring, political pressureand moral shaming, dialogue, technical assistance, and education. Coercivemethods to insure implementation are possible but difficult to employ inpractice (See Wohlwend 1999).The EU shares the CoE’s strong commitment to the norm of abolitionof the death penalty. Within the EU, development has been rapid. Withthe end of the cold war, human rights and the issue of the death penaltygained significance both internally and externally (Manners 2002, 235–58; Smith 2003). The final act of the Treaty of Amsterdam included adeclaration on the EU commitment to abolition (European Union 1997).Today all EU member states have abolished the death penalty by ratifyingProtocol No. 6 of the ECHR, and a majority of them have already ratifiedProtocol No. 13. The EU also actively promotes the abolition of the deathpenalty in non-EU countries. In fact, the campaign for the abolition of thedeath penalty has become one of the most visible areas of EU external policy.

106 ● Sinikukka SaariThe Council of Ministers adopted guidelines for EU policy toward non-EUstates on the abolition of the death penalty in June 1998. This document setsout the objectives and means of intervention (European Union 1998). TheEU employs the tactics of moral shaming, political dialogue and monitoringof the issue.In the case of Russia, the EU has combined the use of technical assistance,monitoring, potential conditionality, and diplomatic instruments to pushits abolitionist goal. In 1999, for example, the EU—together with the CoE—launched a public awareness campaign on the issue of the death penalty overtwo years to provide information for the general public, legal experts, andparliamentarians in Albania, Turkey, Russia, and Ukraine. All of the majoragreements and documents on EU-Russia relations mention the goal of abolitionof the death penalty (Manners 2002). Even though treaty conditionalityhas not been used in practice on the question of the death penalty, it couldstill be an effective strategy. For example, if Russia were to start executionsagain, the EU could suspend its assistance and treaty obligations.The EU thus attempts to invoke the logic of arguing through moralshaming, discussion, and political pressure. There may be an asymmetricalrelationship between the actors, but the EU still has very little bargainingpower, as Russia is not a member nor does it seek to become a member ofthe EU. It has few effective instruments at its disposal vis-à-vis Russia, andtherefore it has opted for pooling together with the CoE on the issue. Fromthe Russian perspective, the EU is an external actor who should not have asay on Russian matters.The Abolitionist Development in RussiaFrom Tactical Concessions toward True Commitment?Even in the Soviet Union, the death penalty was a controversial issue. Thecommunist party considered it incompatible with socialist ideals, but itremained an almost daily practice. Due to this contradiction, its provisionalcharacter was constantly stressed in law. During Soviet rule, capital punishmentwas abolished in law altogether three times, but each time it was quicklyreinstated (Mikhlin 1999).In the late 1980s and early 1990s, two mutually contradictory trendsreflected in the debate on the death penalty in Russia. The first one was thegeneral growth of both perceived and real insecurity in a society undergoingdramatic transition. The rise of economic uncertainty, corruption, and socialproblems hardened public opinion, and there was increasing pressure to makepunishments harder in the name of restoring order and respect for rules. The

Russia’s Creeping Challenge to European Norms ● 107general public had never supported the abolition of the death penalty, andthese developments made their opposition to abolition even stronger.On the other hand, Russia was a target of growing international pressureto limit and eventually to abolish capital punishment. In 1994 the Council ofEurope decided to make abolition of the death penalty (by ratifying ProtocolNo. 6 to the ECHR) one of the key conditions for membership in the organization(Council of Europe 1994). This provision applied to Russia as it hadapplied for CoE membership in 1992. The membership aspect gave the CoEsuperior bargaining power vis-à-vis Russia. Russia was vulnerable to coerciveaction by the CoE and thus likely to react in the desired way.The new Russian constitution of 1993 confirmed the limited use of thedeath penalty. Nevertheless, it also stated that it was only a temporary measureand that it would be abolished in the future. Article 20, paragraph 2allows the establishment of the death penalty “until its abolition thereof”The constitution also confirmed that capital punishment could only be usedin the case of especially grave crimes against life. 9 Article 20, paragraph 2continues, “The accused shall be granted the right to have his case examinedby trial with jurors” (Constitution of the Russian Federation 1993). However,at that time only a fraction of the federation’s subjects had created such acourt, and therefore Article 6 of the constitution stated that previous proceduresshould be retained until a new operating federal law established anew procedure for the consideration of cases by the juror courts. 10As the formulations of the constitution suggested, the stated strategy of theRussian authorities was gradual change toward complete abolition. The Europeanorganizations welcomed this approach and supported the leadership inits endeavors. The president of the Russian Federation and the PresidentialPardons Commission were seen as the most important advocates of abolitionof the death penalty in Russia. The Pardons Commission was created in 1992in an attempt to expand the use of clemency, particularly in the case of thedeath penalty (Pristavkin 1999, 129–38).The Russian public did not support these early steps toward abolition yetthe prospects of successful norm socialization were hardly grim. This is notsurprising for two reasons. First of all, in most states, abolition had not beensupported by a majority of people at the time the decision had been made.This decision is often a principled, identity-related decision with which thestate communicates to other states its dedication to humanistic values.Second, Russia’s liberalization overall was not a result of growing demandsand activism from the public. It, too, was an elite-led project. The Russianstate-society relations were—and are—such that public opinion mattersrelatively little; the state, in particular the president, sets the agenda andimplements policy without much public interference (Smirnov 2001, 524).

108 ● Sinikukka SaariDespite the fact that the norm of abolition did not resonate with the publicat large, it did resonate with the liberal-mined intelligentsia and theruling elite. The ruling elite may have supported abolition based more oninstrumental calculations, but for the liberal-minded intelligentsia, it wasan important, identity-based value. The biggest achievement during theseearly years was that the RF publicly committed itself to the goal of abolitionand to the integration into European abolitionist institutional frameworks.The Russian abolitionist strategy was gradualist: first, the limitationof its use and, second, its total abolition by ratification of Protocol No. 6.The European organizations played a significant role in the process that ledto the placement of abolition on the agenda of practical politics in Russia.The scope conditions were generally positive for norm adoption byRussia. The norm was strengthened when ratification of the Protocol No. 6became a membership condition of the CoE and more more states ratifiedit. The norm’s coherence, its symbolic validation, as well as the norm hierarchyand determinacy all strengthened considerably during this period. Thenorm became more consistently applied and backed by an institutionalizedframework. Even the fact that the norm had high political profile does notseem to have played a negative role at this point. On the contrary, the normsoon gained symbolic value as a sign of “Europeaness.” The Russian discoursesuggested that this was also the reason why Russia should implementthe norm as soon as possible. Also, the asymmetrical relationship betweenEuropean actors and Russia implied that the European organizations couldinfluence Russian politics. The Russian state was in a new situation and opento new ideas and the values of the European organizations. Russia was in thesearch for a new identity after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Russia, facedwith major challenges without precedent, desperately needed new solutions.The European society of states was willing and able to engage with and assistRussia in its search. The CoE and its standards became the new referencepoint for Russia. Russia seemed to be willing to accept the European normswithout hesitation. The desire to see Russia as a “normal,” “civilized” state wasso great that the issue of being patronized by Western states and institutionsdid not yet raise high emotions among the elite (Sakwa 2002, 351). Althoughthe general public did not support the abolitionist goal, domestic structurewas supportive to the adoption of the norm of abolition of the death penalty.Russia’s top-down societal structure suggests that the ruling elite’s abolitionistview would override the general public’s more conservative views.At this time, Russia’s socialization to the norm of abolition of the deathpenalty seemed fairly straightforward: Russia was expected to adopt the Europeannorm and to implement it in practice. The socialization model wouldsuggest that after the Soviet Union’s collapse, Russia started to move from the

Russia’s Creeping Challenge to European Norms ● 109phase of tactical concessions to the phase of prescriptive status. This, indeed,seemed to be the case—despite the fact that the change was a top-downprocess (unlike what the model would have). There was considerable progressin terms of the consistency of official discourse and legislative action. Therewere also major political decisions aimed at preparing Russia for the practicalimplementation of the norm.Emerging Irregularities in the Phase of Prescriptive StatusThe war in Chechnya started in late 1994. As a response to the human rightsviolations taking place there, the CoE decided to suspend the considerationof Russia’s membership application (Council of Europe 1995b). After theCoE’s decision, the highest representatives of the Russian state sent a letter tothe CoE. In the addendum of the letter, the leaders promised—among othercommitments—that Russia would “examine Protocol No. 6 (abolition of thedeath penalty) for the purpose of ratification” (Annex 3, Council of Europe1996b). The letter was a sign of Russia’s sensitivity to the CoE’s coerciveaction. Positive, urgent reaction and a reinstated commitment to the normswas exactly what the CoE hoped to achieve with its punitive measure. Thecoercive action by the CoE can thus be considered successful. The applicationprocess was reopened in October 1995 (Council of Europe 1995a).In November 1995, the CoE and the EU started a comprehensive two-yearassistance program aimed at assisting constitutional arrangements, institutionbuilding, and legal reform. A month later, Political Affairs Committee of theParliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe (PACE) adopted a draftopinion in favor of Russia’s membership. The report mentioned the deathpenalty as one of the most pressing issues. The report included a detailedadvisory and control program that was aimed at guaranteeing Russia’s swiftcompliance with CoE norms (Council of Europe 1996a). This program wasa sign that Russia was already at the doorstep of the organization and wouldsoon be invited in.Finally, on February 28, 1996, the Russian Federation became the thirtyninthmember of the CoE—despite the fact that it did not meet quite a fewof the official membership conditions, including the ratification of ECHRand its protocol on abolition. (Council of Europe 1996d). At the time ofaccession, President Yeltsin promised to pass a moratorium on executions.There was an understanding that Russia was to abolish the death penaltywithin three years of accession.By accepting Russia into the organization, the CoE lost its most efficientinstrument, namely the membership negotiations. On the other hand, itsengagement intensified after membership was granted. Now that Russia was

110 ● Sinikukka Saaripart of the in-group, the ideational, cultural side of socialization was expectedto gain strength. The membership was expected to invoke the mechanismsof norm institutionalization and habitualization. The granting of membershipwas a sign of political will on both sides to integrate Russia with theEuropean structures.Several positive steps followed the membership in the question of thedeath penalty. The new criminal code restricted the use of the death penalty,and in May 1996 the president issued a decree “on stage-by-stage reductionof execution of death penalty in connection with the Russian federation joiningthe Council of Europe.” After the presidential elections, Yeltsin decreedan official moratorium on the execution of the death penalty in August 1996(Moscow Times, May 17, 1996).However, a considerable blow on Russia’s credibility as a CoE memberoccurred in December 1996 when it was revealed that Russian authoritieshad been carrying out executions during the first half of 1996 despitethe CoE membership. In January 1997 the CoE published a report thatconcentrated exclusively on the question of the violation of the declaredmoratorium on the death penalty. It confirmed that at least fifty-threeexecutions had taken place in Russia since Russia’s accession. The reportargued that the Committee on Legal Affairs and Human Rights “feelsthat the Assembly needs to take action in accordance with its monitoringprocedure to sanction this particular violation of an important humanrights commitment by Russia, lest the credibility of the Council of Europebe damaged” (Council of Europe 1997). Russia apologized, and it had,in fact, already ceased carrying out executions by the time informationbecame public.In March 1997 the State Duma considered a bill on the moratorium onexecutions but rejected the proposal by a clear majority: 177 votes against and75, with 6 abstentions (Batygin 1997). At the time of the vote, 688 prisonerswere on death row in Russia. Despite the Duma’s decision, however, PresidentYeltsin signed Protocol No. 6 to the ECHR in April 1997, although withoutratification, it did not officially bind Russia.In Europe, action against the death penalty strengthened. In October1997, the Council of Europe held a summit where the heads of governmentcalled for the universal abolition of the death penalty and outlined themain elements of its anti–death penalty policy. It was to consist of a combinationof several elements: general demarches, action on individual cases,the reporting of the human rights situation, and other initiatives includingassistance programs. That same year the European Union signed theAmsterdam Treaty, which confirmed its devotion to abolition of the death

Russia’s Creeping Challenge to European Norms ● 111penalty. The strengthening of European action to abolish the death penaltycontinued the following year. Also in June 1998 the EU issued practicalguidelines for its anti–death penalty policy toward non-EU states (EuropeanUnion 1998).The Duma considered the issue of abolition of the death penalty againwith the ratification of the ECHR in February 1998. The session was precededby a heated debate in the newspapers. In the end, the Duma ratifiedthe ECHR but refused to ratify Protocol No. 6 (Vandenko 1998).Negative trends further strengthened in Russia where the debate grewincreasingly critical of abolishing the death penalty and the policies ofthe international organizations on the question. The following June in1998, Minister of Justice Pavel Krasheninnikov made a public case formaintaining the death penalty on the basis of growth in crime, and therewas strong public support for maintaining it (Suhova 1998). Krasheninnikovwas far from the only representative of the executive who defendedthe death penalty. In fact, in November 1998 even Prime Minister EvgeniPrimakov criticized the official goal of abolition by claiming in a populistfashion that Russian government should reintroduce the death penalty(Astahova 1998). These pro–death penalty comments by major politicalfigures and high state officials created confusion and raised seriousdoubts about Russia’s intentions in European institutions concerned withhuman rights.The scope conditions changed during this period. On the one hand, thenorm-specific conditions strengthened in Europe as more and more statesabolished the death penalty. The norm also became one of the cornerstonesof the EU’s external policy. On the other hand, the CoE’s material bargainingpower and asymmetry between the organization and Russia diminishedduring this period. The CoE believed that Russia’s membership wouldencourage its socialization to European norms by strengthening the moralauthority of the organization and evoking processes of persuasion and institutionalization.However, the general political environment started to change.Relations between Russia and Europe became more strained as NATO airstrikes bombarded Serbia and as former socialist states sought to join NATO.There was a growing feeling of disappointment with Western-dictatedreforms and their results in Russia. Russia became less open to Europeannorms and values during these years. Engagement with the European institutionsstarted to be seen in merely instrumental terms based on gainingconcrete material benefits. The norm of abolition had always been a symbolof Europeanness, and in the new domestic atmosphere, this quality becameincreasingly unpopular. Yeltsin’s grip of power was not particularly strong

112 ● Sinikukka Saariduring this period that neutralized the structural advantage the elite enjoyedin Russia. The domestic norm salience thus decreased during this period.The European organizations did have an impact on Russia’s policies,although not as much as had been hoped for. The initial goal of the CoEhad been the abolition of the death penalty before accession. This goal waslater degraded to the ratification of Protocol No. 6 in three years time and thesuspension of executions from the day of accession. Russia was not ready tomeet the formal abolition requirement but, nevertheless, in practice it didcease executions. The protocol was not, however, adopted within the deadlinegiven by the CoE, and the official discourse showed increasing signsof inconsistency. Nevertheless, after 1996 the European institutions weresuccessful in ensuring that the practical implementation of the norm wasconsistent in Russia. It is unlikely that this would have happened without theorganizations’ active engagement in the issue. Russia’s modest hesitation overthe issue did not stand out during this period in Europe. Russia was far fromthe only state struggling with the implementation of formal requirements ofthe norm. Russian discourse clearly did not contribute toward strengtheningthe consensus on the issue, but otherwise, its impact on the European levelor on the interpretation of the norm was modest.The socialization model still seems to describe the dynamics of the developmentsto some extent. Russia’s progress in practical implementation andofficial commitment to the norm stayed at a high level even though somediscursive hesitation started to emerge. Russia could be claimed to be in thephase of prescriptive status of norms. The progress was still relatively weakwith regard to the legislative reforms and institutionalization of the norm, buton a practical level, progress was undeniable. However, the general attitudeand discourse did not support the abolitionist goal. The problem seemed tobe that after Russia’s membership, the effectiveness of the organizations graduallyshrank. The processes of argument and persuasion, institutionalization,and habitualization did not take over as the model would predict. Instead, theloss of superior bargaining power and the lack of material incentives reflectednegatively in Russia’s progress toward the implementation of the Europeannorm on the abolition.Russia’s Request for an Exception to the European RuleBefore long, however, the fragile moratorium on the death penalty was unexpectedlystrengthened. In February 1999 the Constitutional Court ruledthat Russian courts should stop imposing death sentences until a law on jurytrials had been passed in all federal subjects. At the time, jury courts existed in

Russia’s Creeping Challenge to European Norms ● 113nine (out of eighty-nine) regions. Even regions where jury courts existed hadto cease passing new death sentences in order to guarantee the principle ofthe equality of all Russian citizens before the law. This was an important stepbecause there is a qualitative difference between a moratorium on executionsand a moratorium on passing death sentences by courts. After the ruling,Russia could be classified as a de facto abolitionist state—at least temporarily(Liukaitis 1999a; Hood 2002, 31). However, the Russian courts could startissuing death sentences once the jury court system had been established in allregions. 11 The Pardons Committee decided to seize the moment and get ridof death row altogether. During the first five months of 1999, the PardonsCommission considered a record-breaking seven hundred cases (Liukaitis1999b). These developments gave some hope to the European organizationsthat despite earlier hesitation, there still might be enough political will inRussia to abolish the death penalty in the near future.However, the positive wave of abolitionist spirit soon came to an end.With the start of the Second Chechen War in 1999, the fight against terrorismbecame more increasingly dominant in the Russian political agenda.Terrorist attacks against civilians considerably strengthened support for thedeath penalty in Russia. The Russian press launched a populist pro–deathpenalty campaign, and many public figures and politicians gave their supportfor the campaign. Many observers also feared that the new Russian presidentVladimir Putin would foster pro–death penalty sympathies. This fearhas not materialized, however, and the goal of abolition has continued to besupported officially by the Russian president (see for example Interfax July 9,2001 and February 7, 2006).The resuming of hostilities in Chechnya also created an extremely volatilesituation and Russia—CoE relations deteriorated once more. The tensionculminated in coercive action by PACE. In April 2000 PACE decided to suspendRussia’s voting rights in the assembly (Council of Europe 2000). Thistime around, the Russian reaction to the coercive action was not a positiveone from the council’s point of view. The Russian State Duma replied to thesuspension decision by adopting a declaration criticizing the decision madeby the PACE. The Duma stood firmly behind the Chechen War. It “deeplyregretted” the position adopted by the assembly. It considered PACE’s decisionunjust and unfounded, claiming that full-scale cooperation could onlyresume if the assembly reversed its “discriminatory” decision (See Councilof Europe 2001a). The Russian side offered no concessions on the issuebut challenged the decision by CoE directly. The reaction by Russia leftthe CoE in an awkward position. It seemed that the Russian side was notgoing to give in on the issue, but the CoE could not suspend Russia’s votingrights forever.

114 ● Sinikukka SaariIn January 2001 the Political Affairs Committee commented again onthe situation in Chechnya. It regretted the stance that the Russian delegationhad taken. It seems that the tables had unexpectedly turned: what hadstarted as CoE pressure on Russia had become Russian pressure on theCoE. PACE had to admit that if Russia was actually expelled from the CoE,the organization would have to invent a completely new role for itself in thenew Europe. PACE decided to grant full voting rights to Russia without anymajor concessions having been made on the Russian side. Even though theCoE may have had structural advantage vis-à-vis Russia, Russia’s uncompromisingbehavior forced PACE to yield. The CoE’s moral shaming clearly didnot work and, in the absence of material bargaining tools, the organizationwas at a loss with Russia.The status of the death penalty in Russia also caused debate within theCoE. In May 2001 PACE President Lord Russell-Johnston gave a declarationon the death penalty debate in Russia. In it he stated that “recentstatements made by high-level Russian officials in favor of suspending themoratorium on the executions are therefore highly regrettable. These statementscome against the background of serious concerns with regard toRussia’s human rights record in Chechnya and its commitment to the freedomof media. They are worrying sign of either ignorance of, or blatantdisregard for Russia’s commitments and obligations as a member state ofthe Council of Europe.” Further, he claimed that a decision to end themoratorium would be challenging “the credibility of Russia’s commitmentto our organization’s values and principles . . . [and] this would inevitablylead to the questioning of whether Russia is to continue as a member of theorganization” (Council of Europe 2001b).In February 2002 the State Duma rejected once more the ratificationof Protocol No. 6, again by a large majority, with some members ofthe parliament even going as far as introducing an appeal to the presidentto reintroduce capital punishment. This was shocking news to PACE. InMarch it commented on these developments in a monitoring session: “Theassembly is shocked by the vote in the State Duma on 15 February 2002,asking President Putin to reintroduce the death penalty. . . . the assemblynevertheless urges the Russian authorities to abolish the death penalty dejure and to conclude the ratification of the Protocol No. 6 of the EuropeanConvention on Human Rights” (Council of Europe 2002a). In 2002 theCoE Council of Ministers decided to discuss the question of the abolition ofthe death penalty at six-month intervals until de jure abolition occured in allmember states (Council of Europe 2002b). Also, the general secretary of theCoE wrote an article in defense of abolition in Rossiiskaia Gazeta in March

Russia’s Creeping Challenge to European Norms ● 1152002 (Schwimmer 2002). Thus, the CoE’s reply was increased monitoringand attempts to convince the Russian representatives of the importance ofthe measure.All this did little to prevent pro–death penalty comments from Russianofficials. The most serious of these attacks was Deputy Prosecutor VladimirKoleshnikov’s advocacy of the cancellation of the moratorium in February2005. His comments were sent to the Federation Council, which was consideringanti-terrorist legislation. These comments were even more worrisomeas the Constitutional Court ruling on the application of the death penaltywas about to become void: the only region still without a jury court wasChechnya. This episode was repeated in February 2006 when the deputyprosecutor general publicly expressed his wish that the only terrorist behindthe Beslan school attack still alive should be executed. Interestingly enough,Pavel Krasheninnikov—this time as a chairman of the legislative committeeof the Duma—spoke against exceptions to the moratorium, and PresidentPutin has periodically expressed his conviction that the death penaltyshould not be reintroduced (RIA Novosti, February 9, 2006). In May 2006Nurpashi Kulayev, the Beslan terrorist, was sentenced to life imprisonmentwith a reference to the moratorium on the death penalty in force (RIANovosti, May 26, 2006).In May and June 2005 the Council of Europe published a report onRussia by the Human Rights Commissioner and PACE reporters. The reportsremained firm in their criticisms of the failure to abolish the death penalty inlaw and to bring to justice those found responsible for human rights violationsin Chechnya (Council of Europe 2005a; Council of Europe 2005b).However, the issue of the death penalty was not placed on the action agenda,and no one questioned Russia’s position as a member because of its shortcomings(unlike Russell-Johnston in his statement only four years earlier). Russiathus seems to have been successful with its call for an exception to be madein its case.The EU has also paid attention to human rights and the issue of the deathpenalty in EU-Russia relations. It has created new, softer mechanisms toengage with Russia on human rights. The EU and Russia have been havingsemiannual confidential consultations on human rights issues since 2005,and the issue of the death penalty and the ratification of Protocol No. 6has been taken up in the meetings. This softer EU measure, nevertheless,seem to be as unproductive as the CoE’s engagement on the question of thedeath penalty.To sum up, despite the fact that practical adherence to the norm ofabolition was strengthened by the constitutional court decision in 1999,

116 ● Sinikukka Saarithe Russian Federation seemed increasingly resistant to the socializationefforts of the European organizations. Russia showed blatant disregard of itsmembership conditions and its initial promises to ratify the protocol in threeyears time after its accession to the organization. Official discourse did notfeature an apology or make new promises of implementation but insteadindirectly challenged the European norm’s applicability to the Russian case.Russia’s action suggests that Russia is pressuring the European organizationsto make an exception in its case.The coherence of and the consensus on the European norm on abolitionof the death penalty further increased in the early to mid-2000s. Secondarynorms backing the grundnorm 12 of abolition were developed further withthe adaptation of Protocol No. 13 on the complete abolition of the deathpenalty. This coherence was further enhanced as country after country ratifiedthe protocols. Russia’s action is endangering further progress. Today,when a great majority of CoE members have already ratified ProtocolNo. 13, Russia stubbornly refuses to ratify Protocol No. 6.The recent shifts in international and domestic balance have made Russialess prone to socialization efforts by European organizations. The asymmetrybetween the European structures and Russia was diminishing after the turnof the millennium. Russia’s economy is much stronger, and the president isextremely popular among the Russians, which gives the state more freedomof action. Russia has become increasingly self-confident as an internationalactor, and this is reflected in its unwillingness to comply with Europeannorms. Instead of desiring to be a normal European state, Russia has effectivelyasked the organizations to apply different norms and standards toRussia than those at use with other European states. The European materialbargaining power has significantly decreased during this period. The sense ofurgency to find novel solutions has long passed, and high oil prices have alsocontributed to the general growth of the Russian economy and general satisfactionwith the current political leadership by its public. Russia has becomeincreasingly resistant to outside influences.Russia’s noncompliance with the European norm of abolition is notdue to lack of political or material resources. After all, Russia had alreadyimplemented abolition and only refused to comply with the European legislativerequirements on the issue. Noncompliance on the question seemedto concern Russian identity formation. Noncompliance with the Europeannorm seems to have become a symbolic, principled issue for Russia and a signof Russia’s independence of action. Calls for noncompliance are not signs of“ignorance or blatant disregard” (Council of Europe 2001b) of Russia’s commitments(like Lord Russell-Johnston suspected), but, in fact, an indirect

Russia’s Creeping Challenge to European Norms ● 117challenge to the CoE’s authority on normative matters. Russia does not wantto play the part of a norm-taker any longer.The dynamics of the developments in Russia during the Putin years differfrom the path of development envisaged by the socialization model. Russia,expected to be in the prescriptive phase with this norm, not only failed tomeet the criteria but challenged the applicability of the once agreed-uponnorm. Russia considers European pressure on the issue to be out of place.There has not been any major backlash as the model would suggest, butthe Russian challenge has taken place indirectly while cooperating withthe organizations. Russia never officially declared its denial of the norm,yet it does not believe that the European organizations should have a sayon the matter. The indirect challenge has to do with the exclusive authorityof European organizations’ actions and their right to interpret commonnorms. The socialization model seems unable to detect these dynamics atplay on the issue of abolition of the death penalty.ConclusionIn the case of the death penalty abolition, there has been considerableprogress in the practical implementation of the norm, but the shortcomingsconcern the low level of rhetorical commitment by the authorities andthe failure to meet the formal, legislative commitments set by the Europeanorganizations.The scope conditions were generally positive in the case of the abolition ofthe death penalty. The European norm was high in determinacy, coherence,and adherence; there was a European-wide consensus on the issue as well asstrong symbolic validation of the norm. There is a formal, legally bindinginternational agreement on the issue, and its ratification is required and theprocess closely monitored by the CoE vis-à-vis all its members.The only scope conditions that could explain the some of the difficultiesof socialization by Russia are the norm-specific conditions on the technical/politicalcharacter of the norm and the domestic salience of the normscombined with changes in domestic and international structures. Indeed,the norm has very high political- and identity-related profile. As long as thepro-Western attitude reigned in Russia, the environmental and internationalscope conditions were in favor of socialization and the issue’s high politicalprofile seemed to be an asset in the process of implementation. Only later,when the pro-Western attitude faded and asymmetry between the partiesweakened did this feature turn against socialization.It thus seems that scope conditions that relate to the distributionof material power seem to reflect fairly directly onto the degree of norm

118 ● Sinikukka Saarisocialization. A norm with a high political profile has suffered from thefact that Russia’s structural position vis-à-vis the European organizations hasstrengthened. This indicates that the European organizations have not beensuccessful in evoking softer mechanisms of persuasion, argumentation, andinstitutionalization and that their success in Russia is still very much dependenton material bargaining and instrumental calculations on Russia’s side.The socialization model by Risse and Sikkink claims that in order to engenderenduring human rights change, certain types of causal mechanisms mustbe present in the process of socialization. These causal mechanisms for enduringchange are (1) instrumental adaptation and strategic bargaining, (2) argumentationand persuasion, and (3) institutionalization and habitualization.With regard to abolition of the death penalty, these causal mechanismshave not been equally present. Based most likely on strategic calculations,Russia agreed to be bound by the European norm. This was done in orderto gain access to the CoE. There have been considerable efforts to convincethe Russian authorities and public alike that abolition is in their interestand the proper thing to do as a human rights–respecting state and a CoEmember. These efforts seem to have been in vain. The Russian authoritiesand public have not been convinced by the arguments, and they have disregardedthe European efforts. On the practical level, there has been somemodest institutionalization. As a result of this institutionalization, it doesnot seem likely that Russia would revert back to issuing death penalties andcarrying out executions. Neither, however, does this mean that there will befurther progress in implementing the norm.Progress in the case of the death penalty also seemed to follow theexpectations of the socialization model during the early years of cooperationon the issue between Russia and the organizations. The Russian leadershipseemed to be committed to the implementation of the norm; there wasconsiderable progress in the limitation of the death penalty; and the discoursewas consistent. The hurdles were believed to be chiefly practical innature, and it was believed to be only a matter of time before Russia ratifiedProtocol No. 6. However, while other new CoE members went ahead andratified Protocol No. 6, progress stalled in Russia. Today, Russia is the onlyCoE member that has not ratified the protocol. In recent years it has evencast doubt on the general goal of ratifying the protocol (RIA Novosti, May29, 2006).Contrary to the expectations of the model, Russia has proved to be resistantto active international pressure and to more positive encouragementalike. Risse and Sikkink argue that noncompliance is possible during theearly stages of the model if the state is independent enough and does not care

Russia’s Creeping Challenge to European Norms ● 119about being excluded from international cooperation, or, later in the phase ofprescriptive status, if there is not enough international attention to the actualimplementation of the norm. This was not the case with Russia and the abolitionof the death penalty: it was already in the phase of prescriptive status,and there was plenty of international attention to the state of implementationin Russia. Whilst failing to comply with this fundamental European norm,Russia was simultaneously engaging and cooperating actively with all of theseEuropean organizations.Instead of complying with the model’s expectations and being persuadedby the international actors, Russia has sought to demonstrate that it willengage with the European organizations on its own terms only. Throughits use of uncompromising, interest-based politics, Russia has gained moreroom to maneuver vis-à-vis the organizations. Instead of direct denial of thenorm (which could be interpreted as a regression to the phase of denial),Russia has challenged the norm and the European organizations’ authorityon the matter indirectly through its ignoring of the European callsfor implementation.The failure to explain the developments in this case derives from thepotential problems that were outlined at the beginning of this chapter. First,the Russian development has not followed the general presumption thatinternational factors and structures would suffice to trigger developmentalong the lines of the spiral model. In particular, the presumption that therewould be some semiautomatic process of verbal self-entrapment seems illfittedto the Russian case. On the contrary, the ruling elite has been skilledin using the discursive structures and in arguing in order to escape the firmEuropean criteria for implementation. Because politics and active politicalchoices are by and large excluded from the model, the criteria for each of thestages fail to grasp the essence of the change.Second, the socialization model assumes that the norms are fixed, givenentities. It seems that Russia has rather successfully negotiated a partialexception for itself on the question of the abolition of the death penalty. Anexception to a general norm may weaken the coherence and consensus onthe norm in Europe, and this could have an impact on the working of theEuropean organizations.Third, and related to the previous point, this case study demonstrated thatthe process of socialization is not necessarily a one-way street. The cooperationprocess surrounding the norms has not simply been about the effectivetransference of norms from one party to another. Russia has indirectlychallenged the authority of the organizations. The European consensus onthe norm has been weakened by Russia’s noncompliance. How profoundly

120 ● Sinikukka SaariRussian policies will affect the development of the European norm of abolitionnevertheless remains to be seen.It thus seems that Russia has been socialized to the practice of cooperationwith European organizations, but it clearly has not been socialized tothe norms and values of the organizations. Russia is willing to cooperatewith European organizations and has many times called for even closer tieswith them. However, it is only willing to do it on its own terms, which arebased on its interests and not on shared values and identities.In the light of the issue explored in this chapter, it seems that question isreally about the choice of Europe on Russia: will European organizations bewilling to give Russia more room to maneuver than the other members of theEuropean state society and allow for exception to some of its norms? Or willthey stand firm behind their principles and confront Russia head on? Bothof these options are risky, and organizations do not seem politically ready tomake a strategic choice on Russia. It is likely that an unsatisfactory stagnationin relations will continue until some unexpected political change or eventdisturbs the fragile balance between the actors.Notes1. Naturally, there are different variations of social constructivism: mainstream“modernist,” “rule-based,” “commonsense,” and more postmodern constructivists.Despite all their differences, the points made here are common to all of theseapproaches. On different variations of constructivism, see, for example, Adler1997, 319–63 and Pettman 2001, 249–65.2. This norm of abolition of the death penalty has long roots, but the norm as itstands today is a recent one. It only came about after the cold war. The originaltext of the ECHR explicitly states that the death penalty may be applied bystates under certain conditions. The traditional sovereignty-based interpretationstarted to be questioned by international nongovernmental human rights organizations,such as Amnesty International, and by the Parliamentary Assemblyof the Council of Europe (PACE) during the 1970s and 1980s. See Wohlwend1999, 55–67.3. The protocol was opened for signatures on April 28, 1983. Twelve of the thentwenty-one members signed the protocol on that day. It entered into force withfive ratifications on March 1, 1985.4. The latest Amnesty International report (April 2007) on the situation is availableat http://amnesty.org/en/report/info/act50/003/2007.5. De facto abolitionism means that a state retains the death penalty, but in practiceit has not applied capital punishment during the past ten years or more, or it hasmade an international commitment not to carry out executions (Hood 2001,331–54).

Russia’s Creeping Challenge to European Norms ● 1216. The OSCE participating states agreed on the OSCE principles concerning thedeath penalty in 1989 in the Concluding Document of the Vienna Follow-upMeeting, the Document of the 1990 Copenhagen and 1991 Moscow HumanDimension Meetings, and the Concluding Documents of the 1992 Helsinki and1994 Budapest summits. In 1999, the OSCE’s Office for Democratic Institutionsand Human Rights started to publish an annual review on the use of thedeath penalty in which the international standards and the use of the deathpenalty by OSCE states are studied. The data in the report comes from theparticipating states themselves. See information at http://www.osce.org/odihr/item_2_224.html?print=1.7. Only Belarus, the United States, and Uzbekistan are completely retentionist.The figure includes de facto abolitionist (such as Russia) as well as partly abolitioniststates (such as Latvia, which has adopted Protocol No. 6 to the ECHR).8. In 1995 the CSCE changed its name to Organization for Security and Cooperationin Europe.9. The then prevailing criminal code allowed for much wider application of thedeath penalty, but the practice followed the constitution. The new criminal codewas passed in 1996.10. See Article 6 of the Constitution of the Russian Federation 1993. Jury courtsexisted in nine regions out of eighty-nine subjects of the RF. Gradually thesituation has changed: since April 2003 only one federation subject has not hada jury court (Chechnya).11. In November 2006, the State Duma postponed the establishment of jury trialsin Chechnya until 2010. See RIA Novosti, November 15, 2006.12. Underlying basic norm.

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CHAPTER 5Pan-European/International TransportCorridors at the Conjunction ofGeography and Politics in Russia *Katri PynnöniemiPan-European Transport Corridorsand the New Order of EuropeUntil recently, it was plausible in the EU to use simple logic to say thatbecause Russia’s export infrastructure is directed toward Europe, it isin Russia’s interest to engage in cooperation with Europe (EuropeanCommission 2004, 6). Such optimism is rare these days, and on the contrary,oil and gas pipelines, ports, and other transport-related infrastructureare seen as a means to further Russia’s state interests in Europe (to the detrimentof the latter). Both narratives are in a way right, but we would do wellto beyond these simple constructions and take a look at how geography andpolitics are entangled in Russia’s relations with Europe.A point of departure is a simple notion that in the early 1990s, the networkof pipelines, electric transmission lines, railways, and roads between Europeand Russia were labeled as symbols of strategic partnership in the making(European Council 1999, 7). An idea of a durable, common space that boththe West and the East could share was written into the charter for a new* This chapter is a part of my doctoral research project funded by the Academy of Finland’sresearch project, “Russia’s European Choice—with or into the EU?” at the Finnish Instituteof International Affairs.

124 ● Katri PynnöniemiEurope signed in 1990. The first Pan-European transport conference, held inPrague in October 1991, was a turning point in the sense that it was the firstofficial announcement of a need to formulate a common understanding onan all-European Transport Policy. This declaration called for an identificationof “the most important major transport routes linking the European countriesand regions.” This was intended as a “formal and concrete expression”of the need to engage in building a transport infrastructure network for thenew Europe (Pan-European Transport Conference 1991, 1).The prioritization of the nine Pan-European transport corridors in 1994was a symbolic act aimed to foster a new spatial as well as temporal orderfor the enlarged Europe 1 (Second Pan-European Transport Conference 1994;European Parliament 1994). The new status—the Pan-European transportcorridor—was the formal expression of a new order in terms of the set of roadand rail connections, border crossing points, sea ports, airports, and the like,in purposive relation to each other. In the EU context, the new arrangementwas primarily envisioned as a part of eastern enlargement. Consequently,the EU committed itself to finance the development of the Pan-Europeancorridors within the territories of the new member states. 2 The extension ofthree of the nine corridors (No. 1, 2, and 9) to the territory of Russia set thestage for further cooperation between the EU and Russia in the sphere oftransport and infrastructure development. 3The growing interest in improving transport infrastructure within theenlarged EU area, as well as between the EU and Russia, stems from the factthat the trade between the EU27 and the Commonwealth of IndependentStates (CIS) is expected to grow substantially in the foreseeable future (Kandogan2006, 216–17, 229; Lautso et al. 2005, 39–41). The reorientationof the trade flows and the enlargement of the EU are two parts of the samecoin—a coin that quite literally creates contours for a spatial and temporalreordering of Europe. The question I pose in my research work is, whathappens to this coin when it is flipped around in the Russian discourse ontransport and infrastructure development? What kind of “currency” is it, andwhat is it used for? The purpose of this analogy is to suggest that the verycombination of the words “Pan-European” and “international” and their usein the articulation of Russian policy objectives vis-à-vis the development oftransport infrastructure convey the extent of the change (or the continuation)in Russia’s engagement with Europe.In the first part of this chapter, I will suggest how we may picture thepuzzle of Russian international transport corridors. It is argued that it consistsof two layers, the foreground and the background that are nested intoan “assemblage,” the combination of change and continuity in present-dayRussian politics. The opening of the Chita-Khabarovsk road in February

Pan-European/International Transport Corridors ● 1252004 illustrates features of “razzmatazz” in Russian politics, as well as a way tostudy the use of language characteristic for policy making in Russia.The Puzzle of Russian International Transport CorridorsPicturing the Dynamism of ChangeThe historian J. N. Westwood summarized the problem of transport in Russiain the following way: It is “a consequence of the geographic feature ofRussia, the union of an enormous territorial expanse into a single economy”(Westwood 2002, 79). The paradox depicted in this formulation is that “anenormous territorial expanse” does not readily transform into “a single economy”or to “coherent sovereign space.” However, official discourse in Russiaaddresses ambiguities involved in the building of a “united transport system”as temporal obstacles that can be done away with by way of improving the systemof governance. This being the permanent feature of the tsarist Soviet andsubsequent Russian discussion on transport and infrastructure modernizationalso makes it a convenient starting point to study how the “internationaltransport corridor” concept figures against the background of already existingpolicies and a purported constellation of geography and politics in Russia.Figure 5.1 Advertisement of the DVTG Group (Rossiiskaya Gazeta March 23, 2005)

126 ● Katri PynnöniemiThe advertisement of the DVTG Group forwarding company helps us topicture the hypothesis put forward in the article.This advertisement envisions the future of Russia as a bridge betweenAsia and Europe. The advertisement says, “Whatever your cargo. Whereverits destination.” The territory of Russia is envisioned as a blue sky, and thestars in the sky are the company’s freight centers. The freight centers, ratherthan the thin dotted-line marking the border, constitute an interface oflocal/global and outside/inside of Russia. “Europe,” “Russia,” and “China”are locations in the semantic space—text fragments rather than real entities.Moscow, usually represented as the nexus of the Russian space, is, in thisimage, just one of the stars. The yellow figure against the blue backgroundstands for an international transport corridor. The figure of the corridor is infact a service offered by the company. It is the company that makes movingthrough Russia fast, reliable, and safe. The DVTG advertisement visualizesan arrangement of Russian space where the space is orderly in relation to theglobal markets. The form of this constellation derives from its function inthe global trade network. Thus, it is the figure of the yellow corridor, ratherthan the blue background, that is illuminated.In the government policies on transport corridors, the relation betweenthe figure of the corridor and the background is turned the other way around.In order to understand this shift, we may start with the notion of a “unitedtransport system” (Edinaya Transportnaya Sistema [ETS]). It captures what isregarded as an essential feature of the system. Starting from the early 1930s,the concept was used to describe the main state task of the development oftransport. The three main attributes of the ETS are integrity (tselostnost’),or unity of the infrastructure network; hierarchy (ierarhichnost’) of thedifferent modes of transport; and synthesis 4 (vzaimoproniknovenie or sintez)of the operation of the system as a whole (Galaburdy 1996, 15). With theemphasis on tselostnost,’ this means integrity and unity but also, in a morediffuse sense, something that is intact. The arrangement of space becomes acall for effective governance.In an analytical sense, there is a shift from the foreground: a yellow“figure” of the corridor to the background of a blue “sky” denotes a shift inthe purpose order of the Russian space. The foreground—the figure of thecorridor—is a constellation of the Russian space formed in accordance withthe principle of competitiveness in the global markets—whereas the bluebackground signifies unity of power over sovereign territory. Two versions ofspatiality—the “space of flows,” or global networking, and sovereign territorialityare not seen a priori as mutually exclusive but rather as two coexistent,spatial domains of politics (Ruggie 1993; Castells 1996; Agnew 1999;Allen 2003). What is here suggested is that we look at an advertisement as a

Pan-European/International Transport Corridors ● 127multistable image, or to use a more familiar expression, a puzzle picture thatis here put in use as a hypothesis of a possible way “to look and see” into theword “corridor” and similarities and differences in its usage 5 (Wittgenstein1953, 66).The puzzle is composed of two layers: the “figure” of the corridor that isset against the “background” or “underground” of the blue “sky.” The notionof “foreground” and “background” goes back to ideas first encountered ingestalt psychology and the basic finding that visual perception of the figureis only possible against the background. The background sets out—it givescontours to the figure while at the same time it stays unnoticed (Kharkhordin1999; Hanks 1996). In other words, it is the background that enablesus to understand literal meanings and against which the semantic contentof utterances functions (Searle 1983, 148). But words of caution are clearlyrequired. An understanding of the gestalt is usually saved only for the “trulyheroic philosophical achievements” that allow us to see everything in a newangle. Therefore, I would like to emphasize that the puzzle picture is hereused heuristically. It is proposed as a summary image of the hypothesis ofthe study, and it outlines the point of departure to the analytical approachby which the research problem can be solved (Rorty 1998, 10; Kuhn 1996;Mitchell 1995).To solve the puzzle, we should thus pay attention to the dynamism inherentin the use of language, being understood as a language game played byrules whereby the shift between the foreground and the background actualizes,and the two layers merge together to form one complete pictureagain. 6 The research hypothesis is that what we may see emerging is a kindof “assemblage” or “nesting” of the foreground and the background. I shouldemphasize that in this chapter I may only hint at what can be seen as foregroundand background and suggest on the way that they are nested at theinstance of policy making.The Foreground: Russia as a Bridge from Asia to EuropeIn the context of Russian politics, the development of Pan-European corridorsmarks the conjunction of the three major processes: the fragmentationof the post-Soviet space, the reorganization of the Russian polity, andthe integration of Russia into global markets and with the EU. 7 Lookingback at this process, the Russian minister of transport, Sergei Frank, notedin 2003 that the development of transport corridors in Russia has evolved“from an idea of enlarging the system of Pan-European transport corridorsinto Russia to the development of our own system of ‘international’and domestic transport corridors, on the basis of which the main transport

128 ● Katri Pynnöniemiinfrastructure projects will be realised” (Frank 2003, 3). The agreementsbetween the transport ministries of participating Pan-European corridorcountries (for example, between Russia and Finland) were negotiated andconcluded between 1995 and 1996. The Russian government’s positionon the development of the corridors was formulated before the Third Pan-European Transport Conference in 1997, where Russia proposed includingthe Euro-Asian linkages in the map of Pan-European corridors. The issuefell into the background of Russian politics due to the August economiccrisis in 1998 but surfaced again in 2000 with the positive trend in theRussian economy.The point of departure of Russian state policy on the corridors is formulatedin the Federal Target Program: modernization of the transportsystem of Russia approved by the Russian government in December 2001.It is argued that “since Russia comprises thirty percent of the territory ofEurasian continent and has a well-developed transport system, it objectivelyis a natural bridge providing a set of transit connections in this direction”(Ministry of Transport of RF 2001, 13). The naturalness of the bridge islinked with features of “bridgeness” that Russia possesses.But what does it take for something to function as a bridge? The sufficientcondition is that the thing creates a stable connection between twopoints separated by something that would otherwise be impossible to crossover. In the Searlean sense, the use of something as a bridge is a questionof the intrinsic features of the thing—the structure of an object that makesit usable to function as a bridge. It is important to note, however, that torecognize something as functioning as a bridge, we do not need words orother status markers. When the thing already exists, it has its (languageindependent)intrinsic features that precede the collective imposition of newmeaning. It is only the latter move whereby the thing becomes part of theinstitutional realm. 8This clarification may seem unnecessary since it is clear from the contextthat the notion “Russia is a natural bridge between Europe and Asia”is not a statement reporting this state of affairs as a matter of fact. In thisconnection, the word “bridge” is used metaphorically to represent, to standfor—in general—to mean something beyond the brute physical features ofthe thing represented. The shift that we perform when we assign the newstatus-function “bridge” or “international transport corridor” to an objector collection of objects is predominantly a linguistic move that “can onlyexist if it is represented as existing” (Searle 1995, 68). In the case of internationaltransport corridors, maps and road signs (e.g., The trans-Europeanroad “E20”) are examples of status-indicators that mark the presence of

Pan-European/International Transport Corridors ● 129international transport corridors. But the point is that since there is nothingthat would distinguish “corridor” from its negation (non-corridor), the verydefinition of an international transport corridor establishes conditions interms of which certain directions of routes, specific infrastructure artifacts,investment projects, or administrative practices count as an internationaltransport corridor. This denotes a sense of a bridge understood as a locution,a space that emerges through the action. The symbolic and practical meaningsof that thing are “tied to the very act of gathering, building of the bridge”(Heidegger 1997, 108).In the context of Russian politics, the idea of “gathering” is expressedwith the word obustroistvo (the rebuilding of Russia):International transport routes cross our country along the shortest distance,with a minimal number of crossings over state borders, and on a territory thatcomprises an united legal space, thus providing for a faster delivery of goods.Besides, in the direction of the main international freight flows Russia hasa well developed network of railways and waterways with a reserve of theirtransport capability; a developing network of motor roads, and this will allowto avoid the necessity of large investments to “rebuilding” (obustroistvo) theinternational corridors. (Government of RF 2000)The Russian word obustroistvo means to rebuild or to put in order, andit is used in connection with the fixing of an apartment and refers to thoselittle things (furniture, curtains, bed linens, and more technical things [e.g.,TV sets or microwave ovens]) that give a personal look to an apartment.In connection with the international transport corridor, the word refers tospecific conditions—for example, service areas along the highways, warehouses,and other infrastructure objects (or even administrative practices)that finally transform the road into an international transport corridor.To have the status of international transport corridor, the route mustcomply with the following criteria: It must have technically well-equippedtransport communications; it must already be part of the main transport route(magistral); and it must also concentrate on foreign trade and transit cargoand passenger flows, or at least have a favorable probability for addressingthe above-mentioned flows. The route should also have significant reservesfor freight capacity. The price and throughput time of cargo should also becompetitive throughout the entire freight route; and the quality of transport(security, services, IT technology to guarantee full information) shouldbe high and should coincide with the set of international transport corridorsagreed to by the international community (Government of RF 2000;Centre of Strategic Research 2000; Ministry of Transport of RF 2001).

130 ● Katri PynnöniemiThe selection of specific routes and infrastructure objects for the corridorbasically consists of three criteria: (1) the type of existing or potential cargoflow (foreign trade and transit), (2) technical status (expected to be high),and (3) linkage with existing network of international transport corridors.What these criteria imply is that the Russian international transport corridorseffectively consist of the already existing main transport arteries thatcross Russia in the east-west or north-south direction (Government of RF2000; Ministry of Transport of RF 2001, 20).In the case of transit corridors, the point of departure is to argue that transitthrough Russia is the shortest and the fastest route between Europe andAsia. This is because “transit routes through the territory of Russia are shorterthan alternative ones,” (e.g., the Transport Corridor Europe-Caucasus-Asia[TRACECA]). Russian territory is a “coherent legal space,” and there is a“minimal number of border-crossings” in comparison to competing routes.One premise of this argument is based on a simple observation. The sea routebetween Europe and Asia through Suez Canal is approximately twenty-onethousand kilometers, whereas the length of the route through Russia (theTrans-Siberian Railway) is approximately eleven to twelve thousand kilometers(Izmailov 2002; Government of RF 2000).The second premise of this argument is equally simple. After the collapseof the Soviet Union, it was no longer acceptable to omit the real costs oftransport. On the contrary, currently “sell[ing a] change in location,” as KarlMarx wrote in Capital, is seen as a major source of revenue for the state budget,often compared with the energy exports (cited in Harvey 2001, 243).The comparison is telling, for besides transit, the development of internationaltransport corridors in Russia is closely tied with the improvement oftransport infrastructure serving the country’s foreign economic interests.The Background: A Country at the Dead EndThe second international Euro-Asian transport conference in St. Petersburgwas held on September 12, 2000. This was just five days after a governmentmeeting where the concept of the international transport corridor wasofficially included in the glossary of federal transport policy. Speaking foran international audience, Minister Frank emphasized that Russia does notenter the transit transport markets as an “aggressive competitor” but as a“partner that offers transit services for the needs of the new century.” Russiawas also willing to cooperate “as an equal” with those countries that see itfirst and foremost as a competitor in a “fight (bor’be) for transport flows.”“This approach,” concluded Frank, “can be considered constructive from theviewpoint of priorities of integration and stabilization.” (Frank 2000a, 6)

Pan-European/International Transport Corridors ● 131Later in the same speech, Minister Frank referred again to unspecified “foreignpartners” who in recent years believed that “Russia as a country is a dead end,its communications are routes intended for the export of minerals and theimport of finished products to the Russian market. Today, along with oil andmetals, Russia offers the world community a new national product, namelythe export of transit services. We are ready to produce and sell this producton mutually beneficial terms with our foreign partners” (Frank 2000a, 6).The use of the metaphor “dead end” captures the sensitivity of the issue.Instead of running through the Trans-Siberian Railway, Asian manufacturedproducts are transported via the Suez Canal to European ports. Even productsdestined to Russia are first carried to the ports of Finland and only then bytrucks or railways to St. Petersburg and Moscow. On the eve of the transportconference at St. Petersburg, an article appeared in the Ministry of Transport’snewspaper, Transport Rossii, that referred to this practice by writing that“everyone who can carries cargo past Russia.” 9The general point to make is that Russia is currently able to attract onlya fraction of the cargo traffic between Europe and Asia. In the future, theRussian Ministry of Transport (Mintrans) aspires to increase the share ofRussian transit to 330–400 thousand TEU annually (Izmailov 2002, 5).Plans to increase the volume of international traffic must be offset against thedecline in traffic volumes after the peak year of 1989. From the late 1980s,the volume of containers shipped westward along the Trans-Siberian routehad steadily decreased from 125 thousand to 50 thousand containers in 1998.The drop was a result of several factors, including delays at the ports andcustoms that hampered the punctual delivery of shipments as well as theftand other disturbances (e.g., “the war on rails” in May 1998). After 1998,container shipments along the Trans-Siberian route have grown steadily from15,100 TEU in 1998 to 48,300 TEU in 2002. In terms of punctuality of theservice, by 1999 the situation on the Trans-Siberian Railway had improvedinsofar as the distance between the Far Eastern Russian ports and Europeantransport hubs was counted in hours rather than days: “A container sent froma Japanese port to Germany,” writes Westwood, “would most likely make thetrip in 477 hours, of which 292 hours would be taken by the rail transit overRussian and Belarussian railways to Brest (10,390 kilometers, of which 623kilometers were over Belarussian tracks).” But this applies mainly to the setof “block-trains” running under special regulation (Westwood 2002, 131).The drastic decrease of domestic transport volumes pushed railways todevelop international transport services (Babaeva 1994). At the first stage,efforts concentrated to the development of international transport along theTrans-Siberian Railway. International transit transports on that route hadin fact started already in the early 1970s when the set of special trains was

132 ● Katri Pynnöniemiorganized to run from the Far East to the eastern European (COMECON)countries, Scandinavia, or Iran. By 1979 the route had succeeded in capturingabout 10 percent of the total traffic and a quarter of that between Japanand northwestern Europe (Rodgers 1990, 212). It is this experience that isreferred to in current visions of increasing the bulk of transit along theTrans-Siberian Railway.To this end, Russia is identified not just as a “bridge” but an “interface”between Europe and Asia. As argued by Minister Frank, “the geographicallocation of Russia and the level of development of its transport infrastructure”offers a solution to the problem of how to create an optimal interface(interfeisom) between Europe and Asia (Frank 2000b, 11). The use of the borrowedword interface widens the scope of the solution. The task, as suggestedby Minister Frank at the St. Petersburg conference, is to create “software” thatis adjusted to manage transit flows effectively. In this way, Russia will becomemore than just a point of conjunction between Europe and Asia. The identificationof the need for “harmonization” of rules and practices constitutiveof transit transportation (e.g., customs regulations) coexists with the call for“operationalization” of those practices as a foreign policy resource in the fightfor transit flows (Frank 2000a, 2000b).The definition of a set of connections as “international transport corridors”gives a convenient way out of the “dead end,” a condition resultingfrom the disintegration of the former Soviet-era transport network and itsadministrative system. On the other hand, it gives a plausible way to argue avision for a future where Russian operators carry foreign trade cargo and thecargo destined for third countries instead of being forced to merely acknowledgehow (and how much) international operators (and other countries)benefit from Russian foreign trade flows. This brings a new challenge: eitherRussia succeeds in developing transportation services that fulfil internationalcriteria, or it has to face loosing this lucrative business.I have chosen the opening of the Chita-Khabarovsk road section toillustrate what possible forms the “nesting” of the two layers, the “foreground,”and the “background” may take. The event also illustrates the phenomenonof “potemkinization” in Russian politics. The rest of the chapter is used toexplain how we may analytically tackle this phenomenon.From a Symbolic Act of Reality to a Matter of FactThe Ceremonial Opening of a Passage through Russian TerritoryThe ceremonial opening of the “through traffic route” (skovznogo proezda)on the federal road Amur between the cities of Chita and Khabarovsk tookplace in the town of Khabarovsk in Siberia. 11 It was late February 2004, and

Pan-European/International Transport Corridors ● 133Figure 5.2 A passage through the courtyard (photograph by author) 10the road was concealed beneath packed snow. Present at the ceremony wasPresident Putin together with other high-level officials from Moscow. Whilethe regional media was understandably filled with descriptions of the eventand the president’s visit, the news about the opening of the new road waswelcomed with excitement and pride in Moscow as well. 12 Indeed, the federalTV channel Rossiya in its main news program Vesti showed a special newsclip dedicated to the opening. It stated that “‘Amur’ is not just a road frompoint ‘A,’ Chita, to point ‘B,’ Khabarovsk. Now, one may drive by car onthis route from Moscow to Vladivostok. It is the longest road in the world,its length is ten thousand kilometres—people living in the Far East of Russianame it nothing less than an automotive Trans-Siberian” (Kozhevin 2004).The head of the Duma’s Committee on Energy, Transport, and Communications,V. A. Jazev, echoed what soon became a mainstream interpretationof the significance of the event. In his congratulation telegram to ActingTransport Minister Frank he announced that “this wonderful event opens notonly a direct road link between Moscow and Vladivostok. It will also lead tothe development of regional economies in Siberia and Far East, and the securingof Russia’s security interests. I am sure that this event contributes to newprogress in the transport sphere in general” (Government of RF 2004).What the text declined to say explicitly was that until the completionof this road section, there was no direct, year-round road linkage betweenEuropean Russia and the Far East. But the usage of the word “completion”

134 ● Katri PynnöniemiFigure 5.3 At the opening of Chita-Khabarovsk road (February 26, 2004) 14in this connection proved to be exaggeration. Lengthy sections of the routewere left unfinished, and passage through the entirety of the route was onlypossible by a heavy truck or bulldozer rather than by a normal car. 13 At thesame time, the new bridge and sections of the road near Chita had beenalready in use for two years before the ceremonial opening actually took place(Kolesnikov 2004). So what was opened in that case if not a new road anda bridge?In the above-mentioned telegram sent to Minister Frank, it was assertedthat the ceremony was organized for the opening of the through-traffic routeon the Chita-Khabarovsk federal road (2,165 kilometers), not just betweenChita and Khabarovsk, but along the whole distance of 12 thousand kilometersfrom Paris, Berlin, and Moscow to Vladivostok. The acting ministerof transport, Sergei Frank, was asked whether the road was really part of theParis-Vladivostok road. “Yes,” answered Frank to the journalist’s question,“and no one has a choice, neither the French nor us. Today we have only oneroad. And it already has traffic.” The journalist then asked if it was “throughtraffic,” and Frank responded, “A little, yes,” adding, “We will continue theconstruction” (Kolesnikov 2004; Kolesnikov 2005, 343–45).

Pan-European/International Transport Corridors ● 135After the blue, white, and red colored ribbon was successfully cut by oneof the road construction workers, the governor of the Khabarovsk region,Viktor Ishaev, uttered, “And now that the through traffic route is opened,soon the Far East will become closer!” (i skoro Dal’nii Vostok stanet Blizhnim).After Ishaev’s ambiguous declaration—for his words can also be translatedto mean that “soon the Far East becomes the Near East”—a column oftrucks drove to the bridge with placards placed on their roofs, on which waswritten, “New Road! New Life! New Russia!” (Kolesnikov 2005, 346).The performative speech act, “a through traffic route is (hereby) opened,”fulfils Austin’s procedural conditions for happy performances (Austin 1965,60–61). It is not a simple statement describing that “the through traffic routeis opened.” For it is uttered on the occasion of an opening ceremony with dueregard to an accepted procedure and performed by an authorized person.The formal authorization for the opening derives from a decision signed bythe head of the Federal Road Agency Igor Slunyayev. 15 But we may askwhether this ceremonial act, performed in the presence of President Putinand other high-level officials from Moscow, was required since the abovementioneddecision had already authorized the opening of the road. Searlegives us a partial answer when he writes, “Where the institution demandsmore of its participants than it can extract by force, where consent is essential,a great deal of pomp, ceremony, and razzmatazz is used in such a wayas to suggest that something more is going on than simply acceptance of theformula X counts as Y in C” (Searle 1995, 118).The notion of Skvoznogo proezda (through traffic) does not carry withit any special technical meaning related to road engineering in particular.The adjective skvoznoi is often used with the words traffic (dvizhenie), train(poezd), and route (marshrut); and it stands for “accomplishment of movementbetween two points without change of carriage or route.” 16 By insistingon the opening of a through-traffic route, Ishaev and other authorities werein fact referring to something beyond the practical functioning of the road.The use of the phrase in this connection was the expression of the politicalwill to connect Siberia and the Russian Far East with the heartland of Russia.The razzmatazz was also required because the federal authorities werebehaving as if the opening of the through traffic on the Chita-Khabarovskroad marked the further confirmation of an “opening of the international(road) transport corridor “East-West.” Later in June 2004, the new ministerof transport, Igor Levitin, explained that “the notion of an internationaltransport corridor ‘East-West,’ to which the Trans-Siberian railway and theroad Kaliningrad-Vladivostok belong, is already functional. Within the next

136 ● Katri Pynnöniemifive years, the whole length of the road will have a hard surface. It is anotherthing that currently only road sections from the westernmost border of Russiauntil Nizhniy Novgorod comply with the international requirements”(“Tranzitnaya Historiya,” 2004).It is, of course, obvious that by only saying the new road between Chitaand Khabarovsk does exist we cannot make it real. But insisting that what wasopened was not just a road section but an “international transport corridor‘East-West’” takes us one step in that direction. This is because the impositionof the new status function of an international transport corridor is a kindof currency—a code word that may help to draw foreign direct investments(FDI) as well as domestic (budget) resources to that particular route project.When the use of this symbolic status is followed by authoritative actions—forexample, in the form of investments—the corridor is established “as a matterof fact.” The other forms that institutionalization corridors might haveare briefly discussed below.The International Transport Corridoras a System of Constitutive RulesOne of the fascinating features of the present discussion on infrastructuremodernization in Russia is the relative easiness by which the word “corridor”was taken into the Russian glossary. This by no means implies that theuse of the term has been unambiguous. Nevertheless, in a very basic sense,the adoption of similar terminology enhances opportunities for successfuldialogue between Russia and the EU.The etymology of the word corridor can be traced back to the Italianword corridore, a “gallery,” and the Latin word currere (current, “to run”).It was originally used of fortifications in the sense of “long hallway” andfirst appeared in this usage in 1814. In this sense, the word corridor refersto a durable arrangement that is designed to enable movement through space.This word did not appear in the Soviet dictionaries, possibly because therewas nothing extraordinary in its use. In the new explanatory dictionary ofRussian language, the word stands for “1. A long passage that links parts of abuilding, premises, apartment. 2. A narrow, long space, passage, limited fromboth sides” (Kuznetsov et al. 2001, 457).The first category of meaning refers to a long narrow corridor or a passage(proezd) that is located inside a building or an apartment. In this basicsense, the function of a corridor is to connect different parts of a building orrooms in an apartment. The second category of meaning refers to a purposefularrangement of space in general. In this sense, the corridor is a negotiatedconcept, an arrangement that requires for its existence a certain imposition

Pan-European/International Transport Corridors ● 137of meaning. The definition of a corridor as a space restricted from bothsides refers also to a conception of a corridor as part of a larger whole. Anexample given in the Russian Explanatory Dictionary refers to the vozdushnyikoridor—air (transport) corridor. 17 This is actually one of the most frequentlyappearing uses of the word in the press.Other examples include the notion of currency corridor, humanitariancorridor that was used mostly in connection with the war in Chechnya, andthe corridor of illegal immigration that refers to the passage to Western Europethrough Smolensk Oblast in Russia and the Vitebsk and Mogilev regions inBelorussia. The most often used sense of the word corridor in the press isaccompanied with the Russian word vlast’—power. The phrase v koridorahvlasti—at the corridors of power—refers basically to phenomena that inthe West are called “lobbying” (“Novosti ekonomiki SNG i Baltii,” 1996;“Vogrug Chechni,” 1996; “Novosti SNG i Stran Baltii,” 1997; Aleksandrov1995). Here the use of the phrase refers especially to phenomena calledapparatnaya vlast,’ that is, bureaucratic, administrative power. It is thusused to denote the way in which authority and power works in Russia. Inthis sense, the corridor is a venue of policy making and often linked witha concrete location—the Kremlin. The phrase refers to the mechanism ofpower: to the application of informal as well as unwritten rules at the eventof policy making. The unwritten rules, 18 as Alena Ledeneva suggested, are“meta-rules” that define “rules of the game” as a whole. “Unwritten rulesare the know-how needed to ‘navigate’ between formal and informal sets ofrules, and between the rules and their enforcement” (Ledeneva 2001, 6).The last example already suggests where the crux of corridor policieslies. The creation of transport corridors is hoped to reinforce the idea ofproximity rather than remoteness. In other words, transport corridors areordered arrangements of space that aim to change the tempo (and oftenalso direction) of movement in space. Corridors impose certain rhythm andsynchrony to movement in space. The technical innovations in the sphereof telecommunications technology or container transport have had crucialimportance for the emergence of global markets. The current technologyallows the speeding-up of the movement of goods and people as well as monitoringtheir spatial movements. 19 Consequently, the principle of sovereignautonomy on territory and the free flow of commerce have had conflictingimplications on certain policy issues, for example, in regard to commercialaviation over flight rights.Even if technical developments in transport technology and telecommunicationshave had a crucial impact on the development of internationalcommercial transport flows, the nontechnical aspect of the corridors iseven more fundamental. The reduction of uncertainty and unpredictability

138 ● Katri Pynnöniemiin international trade is achieved through the development of a body ofinternational agreements that regulate movement between “international” or“sovereign” spaces. 20 In general, corridor agreements deal with a wide rangeof issues such as infrastructure, customs efficiency, bottlenecks, infrastructureinvestment, and the practices of movement (rights and responsibilities)within and between domestic and international realms. The durability ofspace is in this case a feature of institutional facts.Institutional facts are linguistic constructs that create a possibility of newtypes of practices taking place. They are grounded in the collective acceptanceof authority attached to a thing or phenomena that is thus transformedfrom a mere object into a site of action. Searle explains this by saying that“there is a socially created normative component in the institutional structure,and this is accounted for only by the fact that the institutional structureis a structure of rules, and the actual rules that we specify in describing theinstitution will determine those aspects under which the system is normative”(Searle 1995, 146–47).Searle’s thesis is that the creation of institutional reality can be explainedwith the formula “X counts as Y in C.” The construction of social realityin the Searlean sense draws from epistemological realism, and thereforethe metaphor of construction is used quite literally. Thus, it is argued thatthe construction of institutional reality presupposes the existence of tangiblethings, even if the very creation derives from an intersubjective agreementto count certain things as institutional facts.The locution is the name given to the process of imposing a status functionthrough agreement to its meaning. Furthermore, when the practice of imposinga status function becomes regularized and established, then it becomes aconstitutive rule. Not all speech acts impose a function. Indeed, in order tohave consequences, the performance of the speech act has to fulfill certainconventional criteria: it has to have sufficient authority and proper context(Searle 1970; Searle 1995, 44, 191; Austin 1965, 13–15). This is only anabridged version of a longer story, but it suffices for us for the time being.The Features of Razzmatazz in Russian PoliticsThe Building of the Road between Chita and KhabarovskThe ceremonial opening of the Chita-Khabarovsk road was performed asan authoritative confirmation of the opening of the “international transportcorridor ‘East-West.’” Given the above discussion on the collective impositionof a new function constitutive of the institutional reality, it is important

Pan-European/International Transport Corridors ● 139to take a look at what the performative naming of the corridor “East-West”actually accomplished in this case.For over thirty years, the Chita-Khabarovsk project had carried an infamousstatus of dolgostroi (protracted construction). The project was approvedby the Soviet government on July 13, 1966, and it was planned to be ready bythe year 1980. Actual construction work had began in 1978, and until January2003, 1,224 kilometers of the total 2,165 kilometers was built, of whichapproximately 600 kilometers had an asphalt-betony surface. During theSoviet period, construction work proceeded with a “socialist tempo”: between1978 and 1995, only 35 kilometers of road were built per year (the sectionsnearby Chita, Blagoveshensk, and Khabarovsk cities); while during the lasthalf year (between Autumn 2003 until January 2004), work progressed at arate of one kilometer per day (Shirokov 2004; Izdan 2004).The opening of through traffic on a route that actually was not yet ableto carry such traffic made sense when seen in the context of a more generalpolicy. In the year 2000, the development of international transport corridorswas declared as a “new accent of Russian economic policy,” and this wasconfirmed in later policy documents where the major infrastructure investmentswere categorized in accordance with the Russian international transportcorridors: the East-West (Trans-Siberian Railway), the North-South,and the Northern Sea Route. The opening of the traffic along the East-Westcorridor, not just the road between Chita and Khabarovsk, was, in that sense,an appropriate identification of the “matter of fact.”The first phase of the construction of the new route section was to becompleted in 2003 with the “through route.” Thus, the opening of theroute was punctually performed on the eve of the forthcoming presidentialelections in March 2004. The third and the last phase, the laying of theasphalt-betony surface along the whole length of the route between Chitaand Khabarovsk, is to be completed in 2008. Some sections of the road haveacquired funding from the European Bank of Reconstruction and Development(EBRD) loan (together with the St. Petersburg bypass), but the mainpart of financing is from the federal budget as outlined in the federal targetprogram Modernization of the Transport System, 2002–10 (Ministry ofTransport of the RF 2001). By January 2007 over 80 percent of the roadwas built, of which slightly over 20 percent had the asphalt surface (AmurOblast Administration 2007). What this means, all things considered, is thatthe forthcoming ceremonial completion of the construction in 2008 willrepeat the features of razzmatazz present in the first round of “opening” of theAmur route.

140 ● Katri PynnöniemiThe Performative NamingSymptoms of “potemkinization,” or features of “razzmatazz,” as it is calledin this study, refers to “the administration’s use of major policy statementsto convey an impression of unity and sincerity of purpose that was fundamentallyat odds with the real—fragmented and opportunistic” natureof a particular policy (Lo 2002, 67; see also Prozorov 2006). What thismetaphor purports to say is that the policy statements form a facade, themain purpose of which is to hide the fact that there is no policy. Politicsacquire features of nonseriousness when the Kremlin “corridors of power”start to look like a Hollywood movie set. 21 But this discussion is leading usin the wrong direction.An idea to begin with is that performatives that have features of razzmatazz(“potemkinization”) are not necessarily irrational or parasitic in theAustinian sense. Austin described conditions under which saying somethingunder ordinary circumstances counts as doing something. Most importantly,the speech act must follow an accepted conventional procedure; the personspeaking must have required authority to do so; and the procedure has to beexecuted correctly and completely. Austin also defined a set of anomalies,abuses, and misfires that, if present, mean that the speech act is not beingproperly performed (Austin 1965, 15–17).What we have here is actually one of the key controversies of speech acttheory. The question in the debate was whether the illocutionary force is tiedwith its utterance origin (as Austin would have it), or to the conventionalstructure of language used (Derrida’s suggestion) (Searle 1975; Winspur1989, 171; Searle 1998, 143–45; Derrrida 2000, 7–9). It suffices at this pointto note that action, as suggested above, is not just any kind of behavior. It is“behavior under aspects of intentionality” where what is intentional is linkedto the notion of background and institutionalized patterns of behavior.Philosopher Henrik von Wright argues that to understand behavior asintentional is “to fit it into a story about an agent.” This story consists of theinterplay among situational change, intentionality, ability, and motivationaland normative background—in other words, the logic of events within whicha certain action makes sense. The key point is that the change in what Wrightcalls societal determinants of action, that is, in the institutionalized behaviorpatterns, will result in different actions (Wright 1983, 52). The contextto which Wright refers to is the sediment of existing institutional practicesand “ways of doing things.” The primary challenge of cultural analysis thusbecomes to define the nature of the logic in accordance with which certainpractices are counted as actions (Swindler 2001, 76).The word razzmatazz refers to razzle-dazzle, exciting showiness that isdesigned to be impressive and exiting, especially in the context of a stage

Pan-European/International Transport Corridors ● 141show or spectacle. It also means double-talk, a language that appears to beearnest and meaningful but in fact is a mixture of sense and nonsense. 22And thirdly, the word means a complex maneuver (as in sports) designed toconfuse an opponent. 23In the Soviet context, and subsequently in Russia, features of razzmatazz inpolitics refer to practices where “words, gestures and pictures have their symbolicmeanings and ritual itself means accomplishing something.” (Susiluoto1990, 79) Susiluoto writes that “when something was solemnly planned,commanded or shouted (“davai, davai”) it was already as if achieved”(Susiluoto 1990, 79). In the Soviet economic environment, symbolic confirmationof “no-nonsense attitude” toward a construction project wasparticularly important since the feasibility of the project rested on its statusin the overall plan. Since the “status” was not easily convertible to economiccost-effectiveness calculations, the feasibility of the project rested on itsrepresentation as such. 24 Eduard Uspenskii describes this phenomenon inhis much-loved children’s book Krokodil Gena and His Friends. The rationaleduring the Soviet era, as the administrator Ivan Ivanovitsh in Uspenskii’sstory says, was to complete the task only “halfway,” but the official ideologyrepresented this “halfway act” as if the task had been completed in full(Uspenskii 2002, 173–77; also Laitinen 1983, 13).The point is that the phenomenon of razzmatazz in Russian politics isnot simply about the building of facades: surfaces or layers that are meantto hide the incompleteness of Russia’s transformation along the lines of theWestern path. Brune Zevi’s suggestion of how to approach architecture canbe applied to the study of the Russian politics as well: “Anyone entering thestudy of architecture must understand that even though a plan may haveabstract beauty on paper, the four facades may seem well-balanced and thetotal volume well-proportioned, the building itself may turn out to be poorarchitecture . . . to grasp space, to know how to see it, is the key to the understandingof building” (Zevi 1993, 23).What does knowing how to see entail? I suggest that we take a look at thefacade, not as something that restricts us from seeing what is hidden behindit, but as a structure that supports the building. The notion of a facade is heremeant as a reference to Wittgenstein and his thesis that “natural language”could not be reached by going deep into language, but on the contrary, wasright at the surface in the everyday use of language. What I will look at is afaçade, but what I hope to see is a structure supporting the building. 25 Evenif I find the analogue of building a plausible way to explain my heuristicstarting points, I should stress that it is by no means an uncontroversial one.It is here used in a very literal sense to direct our attention to the process ofconstruction of institutional reality.

142 ● Katri PynnöniemiThe use of borrowed words, newly invented words, or the words thatcan be traced back to ideological language (language used in a poetic ratherthan referential function) at the occasion of public rituals and other publicinstances of language use (e.g., official government documents and speeches)is how, to use the metaphor of building again, a void is enclosed within a supportingstructure that prevents the roof from falling down. The “existence”of what is spoken of does not simply consist in the fact that people talk ina certain way, but also that those words spoken need to be applied as well:“What the ‘existence’ of whatever it is amounts to is expressed (shows itself)in the way people apply the language they speak” (Winch 1987, 113–14).What the “using of words” entails, says Austin, is that “once we realize thatwhat we have to study is not the sentence but the issuing of an utterance ina speech-situation, there can hardly be any longer a possibility of not seeingthat stating is performing an act” (Austin 1955, 139).ConclusionThe use of the notion of the “international/Pan-European” transport corridoris one form of discursive practice: a context in terms for which certain actionsbecome possible or required. But in the light of the “ceremonial opening ofthe Chita-Khabarovsk road” the question is not about an “anchoring practice”that potentially changes the constitutive rules that shape and constitutea given culture (Swindler 2001, 81–83). It is not the walls that hold theroof from falling down, but on the contrary, the roof (krysha) that supportsthe building.Paradoxically, the features of razzmatazz in Russian politics did not disappearwith the introduction of the “power vertical” in Putin’s Russia. Afterinitial success in establishing new regulations and practices in the sphere ofeconomics and administration (e.g., the tax reform implemented in 2000),the “administrative reform” has not provided predictability to economicenvironment. On the contrary, the red tape and corruption is coupled withthe concentration of political and economic power in the Kremlin.It is in this latter sense that the features of the razzmatazz are linked tothe double-talk with an intention to confuse the opponent. A comparisonamong Soviet language use, the transformation of the Russian language intocliché nonsense “filled with meaningless expressions often naming nonexistentphenomena,” (Beraha 1997, 47) and current discursive practicescannot be straightforward. Rather, the question is about the emergenceinto official discourse traces of slogans about a “brighter” tomorrow. In theeveryday policy making, the politics is transformed along the lines VenediktErofeev envisioned in his famous late Soviet novel Moskva-Petushki: into a

Pan-European/International Transport Corridors ● 143complete absence of distinctions, a position of neither/nor (Erofeev 1980;Martin 1997; Beraha 1997; Yurchack 2006).With the notion of international transport corridor, the referent is shiftedto the sphere of “international” agentive context from the more diffusePan-European space. This reinforces rather than undermines the feasibilityof preservation of strict contours among sovereign, local, and global spheresof action. This interpretation becomes even more plausible when it is setagainst the particular functions assigned for the development of internationaltransport corridors. No positive interdependency is attributed to the developmentof transport connections with the “other countries,” rather what issought is maximum independence from the use of transport infrastructureof “others” to preserve and enhance Russia’s foreign economic interests. Thislargely boils down to improvement of infrastructure to provide for facilitatingenergy exports, oil and oil products, and other raw materials. At thesame time, the restructuring of the existing infrastructure network, and withit, the diversification of Russian economy, is the stated goal of “tomorrow.”Accordingly with this purpose, the building of the Amur road is highlightedin the discourse on Russian international transport corridors.Notes1. I follow here Hedley Bull (1995) and his notion of “purposive order.”2. The accession of new countries to the EU in April 2004 led to the significantmodification of the “Pan-European partnership” policy. The new member stateswere now eligible to acquire funding for their Trans-European transport Network(TEN-T), and therefore there was no longer a need for the special “corridor”arrangement. In accordance with that, the corridors were regrouped into whatis now called “European transport axes” (European Commission Directorat-General for Energy and Transport [2003]; European Commission [2003]).3. The Pan-European transport corridor 9 consists of transport connections betweenHelsinki, Finland, and the Greek town of Alexandropoulos. In my study I havefocused on the so called Northern branch of the Corridor that connects (Turku)Helsinki, St. Petersburg, and Moscow.4. In current international usage, the equivalent term of synthesis would be multimodality,which means carriage of goods by two or more modes of transport,irrespective of the types of freight, within a single transport chain.5. I apply here ideas developed under what is called “pictorial turn,” seen oftenas a parallel with “linguistic turn,” both identified with Ludvig Wittgenstein’sphilosophy of language (Mitchell 1995; Usvamaa-Routila 2007).6. In my research, John Searle’s formula “X counts as Y in C” provides the analyticallogic to reconstruct the argumentation for a Russian government policy on internationaltransport corridors. Wittgenstein’s concept of language game is used inthe methodical application.

144 ● Katri Pynnöniemi7. I follow here Zaki Laidi’s example, and instead of speaking about transition asa path with a fixed point of beginning and an end, the process of change isunderstood as a triple dislocation—territorial, political, and economic (Laidi1998, 45).8. Here Searle departs, for example, from Bruno Latour who argues that the thingsare constituted in an interaction between the “user” and the thing. For example,a bridge does not have intrinsic features that make it a bridge. In other words,the bridge, whatever it is made of (e.g., wooden logs haphazardly tied together,or elements requiring technically advanced engineering work), is a bridge if it isused as a bridge (Latour 1999; 2000).9. The article cited Soviet-era figures saying that the yearly sum of money from thetransit services acquired was twenty-five billion dollars. Today, transit servicesamount to approximately fifteen times less (“Transit dolzhen vozrastat” 2000).10. A green garage visible behind the white-walled building closes the passagethrough the courtyard. Thus, the text “passage” written on the wall is actuallyanecdotal rather than informative. The same humorous sense applies also to atext “entrance to metro” written on a door of the same building.11. The city of Khabarovsk is the capital of the Khabarovsk region in Siberia. Thedistance between Moscow and Khabarovsk is 6,147 kilometers, and the distancebetween Khabarovsk and Vladivostok is about 300 kilometers.12. In the media, the opening ceremony was compared to the opening of the Trans-Siberian railway in 1903. See Kozhevin 2004; Ivanov 2004; “Amur Oktrylasya,”2004; Ministry of Transport of RF 2004a; Ministry of Transport of RF 2004b.13. The head of the Russian Road Agency (Rosavtodor), Igor Slunyayev confirmedthis in an interview for the Russian radio station Mayak (Nekrasova 2005).14. This picture was published at the Ministry of Transport Web pages photo chronicle(26.2.2004). See http://www.mintrans.ru/Pressa/Chita_Khabarov_26022004/Chita_Khabar_8b.jpg.15. Earlier in the same year, a special commission had traveled from Chita toKhabarovsk and, based on the estimations of this commission, had given a rightto open the road section for through traffic. Izdan 2004. http://www.rosavtodor.ru/shownewsn.php?id=714.16. Other uses of the word skvoznoi also refer to the movement through a space, be itwind blowing through the courtyard, or a two-way entrance from the courtyard(Kuznetsov et al. 2001, 1194).17. Britain was first to declare sovereignty over adjacent airspace in 1911. This wasfollowed by most European states, and by 1914 there was a de facto norm ofstate sovereignty over air space. The right of innocent passage, as well otheraspects of jurisdiction, was developed in the interwar years and formulated intoa Convention on International Civil Aviation in 1944. The controversial issuein this convention is the question about transit through sovereign state territory.The disagreement between the EU and the Russian Federation about flightsover Siberia is a case in point (Zacher and Sutton 1996 91–93; Kuznetsov et al.2001, 457).

Pan-European/International Transport Corridors ● 14518. Searle uses the term “constitutive rules,” which is close to what Ledeneva meansby “unwritten rules.”19. For example, in the European Agreeement on Important International CombinedTransport Lines and Related Installations (AGTC) parties agree that “thereshall be, no stops at the border or, if unavoidable, only very short stops (of nomore than 30 minutes)” (United Nations Economic Commission for EuropeInland Transport Committee 1991, Annex IV). In an inventory of AGTCstandards and parameters carried out in year 2000, it is, however, noted thata relevant number of border-crossing points do not meet the target value of 30minutes (United Nations Economic Commission for Europe Inland TransportCommittee 2000).20. The three jurisdictional norms, which have some of their roots in the seventeenthcentury and have been effectively developed since the nineteenth century,cut across the main international transport spheres (shipping, aviation industry,telecommunications, and postal services). These norms are the state’s right offree access to international space (freedom of high seas and open skies), the rightof innocent passage through other sovereign state’s jurisdictional spheres, andthe state’s right to exclude foreign services and firms from sovereign territories.Zacher and Sutton argue that international regimes (such as norms that regulateinternational shipping) are grounded on mutual interest among states and notimposed by a hegemonic state or a grouping of the most powerful countries.Writers subscribe to Stephen Krasner’s definition of international regimes as“sets of implicit and explicit principles, norms, rules and decision-making proceduresaround which actors’ expectations converge in a given area of internationalrelations.” (Cited in Zacher and Sutton 1996 14)Although I am not using theconcept of regime in my study, the idea of corridors as systems of constitutiverules neatly fits into this overall picture (Zacher and Sutton 1996, 213).21. Viktor Pelevin, in his famous book Generation P, takes this point further bysuggesting that Russian politics is simulacra, spectacle, and invention that has noconnection whatsoever to reality (Pelevin 2000; Baudrillard 1983).22. The idea of double-talk was a ubiquitous feature of Soviet politics where ideologicalliteracy increasingly became seen as a technical skill. Discourse consistedof prefabricated “blocks” of discourse with predetermined and context-independent“literal meanings.” In the process, “official Party speeches and documentsbecame subject to increasingly meticulous and publicly invisible editing with thegoal of producing texts without ‘a single step sideways from the norm’” (Yurchak2003, 489–90; Medvedev 1995; Yurchack 2006).23. See e.g. Meriam-Webster’s Online Dictionary (entry razzle-dazzle and doubletalk)URL: http://www.m-w.com/dictionary/razzmatazz. See also Wikipediawhere ‘razzmatazz’ is described as meaning ‘ambiguous language’. URL: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Razzmatazz.24. In the case of the construction project, launching the groundwork was only astarting point, although a crucial one in terms of actual completion of the building.Continuation of the building work required that the site be included in the

146 ● Katri Pynnöniemipriority list of start-up facilities in accordance with distributed scarce resourcesand funding (Neshchadin 1995, 88–89).25. I should again stress that the epistemological starting point of my research isthe Searlean speech act theory. Martin’s interpretation of Wittgensteinianlanguage-games is the methodical application of Wright’s practical inferencescheme (Martin 1976; Wright 1971; 1983; 1999, 213).

PART 4Russia and Europe:Three Possible Conclusions

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CHAPTER 6Theories of Integration and theLimits of EU-Russian Relations *Christer PursiainenOf all the efforts at regional integration, the European Union (EU) isgenerally regarded as the most successful and dynamic. It is thereforeno wonder that the majority of social and economic theoriesaiming at explaining regional integration processes, as well as practical modelsto that effect, are about European integration (Rosamond 2000; Chryssochoou2001; Cram 2001; Kelstrup 1998; Michelmann and Soldatos 1994).As to the relationship between the EU and Russia, however, these theoreticalapproaches are rarely used to illustrate, explain, or predict its development.By definition, theories of integration compete with each other, especiallywhen it comes to the question of causal factors or levels of analysis. Becauseof this they are difficult to combine into one harmonized approach. However,they can still be discussed against the case of EU-Russian relations ina comparative perspective. What explains the development of EU-Russianrelations? Are EU-Russian relations characterized by growing integration, oris it a question of mere intergovernmental cooperation in different fields?What are the future prospects for EU-Russian integration?* A number of people have been very kind with their time and comments during the seminars,where the earlier drafts of this chapter have been discussed. The author’s particular thanks goto Hiski Haukkala, Ted Hopf, Iver Neuman, and Sinikukka Saari. The author is also gratefulto the Finnish Ministry for Foreign Affairs and Russian-European Centre for Economic Policy(Moscow), which both have financially facilitated the process of producing this chapter.

150 ● Christer PursiainenThis chapter discusses these questions from the perspectives of functionalism,federalism, neofunctionalism, intergovernmentalism, economicintegration theories, the legal approximation approach, Marxist and interestgroup theories, institutionalism, constructivism, and transnational regionalism.It is concluded that, should one rely on these theories for makingpredictions, the institutional future of EU-Russian integration does not lookvery promising. While there will be more and more cooperation in a varietyof different fields, with its ups and downs the dilemma is that withoutsupranational elements, traditional integration meets its limits rather soon.What would remain, in the best-case scenario, is some form of intergovernmentalbargaining. Nevertheless, in the longer run, the convergence oflegal systems as well as the transnationalization of capital and civil societiesmay bring the societies closer to each other as part of the general processesof globalization.A Functional Necessity or a Federalist Idea?One of the most influential of the (post-WWII) classical integrationtheories is functionalism (Mitrany 1943/1966; see also Mitrany 1975;Haas 1958/1996), which came with the idea that modern society had createdsuch technical problems that its resolution would require the collaborationof experts in some specific field or functional area (rather than politicians)across national borders. While the basic spirit of functionalism is connectedto the idealistic goals of peace and welfare through integration—and originallyfunctionalism did not actually propose solely European but universalintegration 2 —integration is supposed to be reached not through “high politics”but through technocratic cooperation within certain functional fields.This cooperation in turn creates or necessitates new power centers, to whichgradually more and more legislative power will be granted.However, functionalist interpretations on and methods of European integrationwere challenged early on by a more idealistic idea about integrationas a tool for peace in Europe—federalism (Burgess 2000). 3 Federalistsemphasize the necessity of the creation of supranational institutions bypolitical decisions. While functionalism implicates a somewhat apoliticalcharacter of integration, federalism sees that from the very beginningintegration must be a political enterprise. The parties were supposed tovoluntarily and consciously give up political sovereignty and autonomy. Theain motivation in this normatively oriented model was originally nationalsecurity. According to the federalists, the European integration processwas necessary, first and foremost, because of the historical experience ofcenturies of contradictions between state actors, Germany and France in

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 151particular. Merging national economies would finally end the era of confrontation.Later on, welfare-related arguments also found their way intofederalist thinking.Functionalism and federalism constituted in many ways opposed viewson integration. Functionalism was based on the so-called collaborativemodel, and federalism proposed a firm supranational model. In these forms,they were easy targets of criticism, since they seemed to exaggerate thefunctionalist-collaborative and federalist-supranational aspects of integration,respectively. Therefore, it is no wonder that these models were graduallysoftened, coming closer to each other.Thus, the federalist theory of European integration grew more gradual,not calling for a sudden transfer of state sovereignty to a “constitutionalassembly,” but emphasizing a more gradual transformation toward supranationaldecision making. To make the distinction between the old and thisrevised federalism more clear, this orientation is sometimes called neofederalism.Functionalism was also modified and connected explicitly to theEuropean integration process. Neofunctionalism became the mainstream anddominant theory of European integration from the late 1960s onward (Haasand Schmitter 1964; Haas 1964, 1970). 4Compared with functionalism and federalism, neofunctionalism was muchmore focused on describing and explaining the process than the normativeend result of integration. It emphasized, first, the necessary preconditions ofintegration such as joint economic interests, similarity of economic system,interdependence, political pluralism, and the similarity of elite groups. Second,neofunctionalism paid attention to the starting phase of integration.Collaboration would begin in the field where the needs of cooperation weremost urgent. Third, after the initial phase, cooperation between states wouldboth deepen and spill over to other, related fields. For instance, cooperationin one energy sector was supposed to be followed by cooperation in the otherenergy-related sectors; the integrative efforts in one field cannot be properlycarried out without starting similar processes in the related field. Thus, thedemands of different functional tasks are not separate, as in functionalism,but linked, which causes integration in theory to snowball. This technicalspillover is also easily extended into territorial or geographical spillover by thevery logic of functional interdependence.However, instead of seeing integration as an automatic, politically neutralprocess like functionalists did, neofunctionalists started to emphasize thatthe technological and practical problem-solving approach would reach limits,giving way to political conflicts. They argued that the technical spillovereffects of collaboration from one area to another assumed that the interests ofactors would be redefined in terms of regional (rather than purely national)

152 ● Christer Pursiainenorientation. Further, this redefinition of interests would be assisted by thedevelopment of common welfare programs in the regional polity. In this way,neofunctionalism added to original functionalism the basically federalist ideathat political leaders have to become interested to partially shift their loyalties,expectations, and political activities beyond existing national bodiesto the interstate level. It also suggested that they had to become willing toreallocate national economic and political power to supranational politiesfor integration to become possible in practice.If we consider EU-Russian integration from the perspective of the abovetheories, we may draw some explanatory and normative lessons. First, froma neofunctionalist perspective, we should pay attention to the preconditionsof integration and consider whether those preconditions are fulfilled. Are theeconomic interests and the economic systems of the EU and Russia similarenough to enable integration? Do both parties share political pluralism as abasic value? Are the elites “similar”?While the absence of these preconditions seems to be enough to explainwhy there was never any integration between Western and Eastern Europeancountries during the cold war, or between the European EconomicCommunity (EEC) and the Soviet Union, it might be claimed that todaythere are still enough differences in the economic and political systems ofthe EU and Russia to hinder the process of genuine integration. Russia isnot seen as truly democratic or pluralist by those in the EU, and its economicsystem is considered to be too state-centric in many fields to be called a realmarket economy.Second, from the functionalist/neofunctionalist point of view, integrationshould be regarded as a long-term and gradual process, not as somethingto be achieved within a few years. One should patiently start with thosefunctional fields, where the need for collaboration is most urgent, and thentry to widen the sphere of integration to related fields.Indeed, we may interpret EU-Russian relations such that functional motivationsform the vehicle of the integration process and that the tempo ofcreating cooperative regimes is higher in those fields, where functional needsare most concrete and topical. These functional priorities of cooperation wereexplicitly and jointly defined by the EU and Russia in drafting the so-calledFour Common Spaces (see Tables 6.1, 6.2). 5However, EU-Russian relations seem not to follow the functionalistpremise that this process of deepening functional cooperation would motivatefurther political integration in terms of supranational decision-makingcenters and loyalties. That is why a third neofunctionalist/federalist lessonis that the true integration of Russia into Europe is not possible if leading

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 153political elites in Russia and the EU are not ready to reallocate economic andpolitical decision-making power to supranational levels. Nothing like this iscurrently in sight, setting the overall frame for EU-Russian relations.Integration Constrained by Rational InterestsNeofunctionalism was especially criticized by those who were to becomeintergovernmentalists among integration theorists. Intergovernmentalism,sometimes labeled as liberal intergovernmentalism when the emphasis ismore focused on domestic interest politics, two-level games and interdependencies(Hoffman 1966; Moravsick 1993, 1994; Moravcsik and Nicolaïdis1999), draws more or less explicitly on traditional realist or rationalist theoriesof international relations. It claimed that the neofunctionalist viewon the connection between functional problem solving and politicalidentification with supranational solutions was too simple and naïve andthus did not reflect the realities of how nations work on the basis of stateinterests. More profoundly, the willingness of states to transfer politicaldecision-making power to supranational bodies would fall short when questionsabout “high politics,” such as security, came into the picture. Thus, thespillover effect could work only in “low politics” matters, at best. A stronger(neo)realist argument would be that the neofunctionalist theory fails innot considering the overall structural power relations in the internationalsystem as a causative background factor.However, while criticizing other approaches, intergovernmentalism,whether in its stronger or more “liberal” forms, could not easily developany coherent theory of integration of its own, since its starting point was toemphasize the limitations of supranational integration. Its main argumentremains that the decisions of governments on different aspects of integration,even when they are creating institutionalized supranational cooperativeregimes, are best explained by relying on the assumption of rational actorsbehaving according to their interests and relative power vis-à-vis each other(Grieco 1995, 1996).As for today, it seems that although the intergovernmentalist approachmay not be the ultimate explanation of EU-Russian relations, both Russiaand the EU surely follow the intergovernmentalist (traditional realist orneorealist) logic in their cooperative interactions, defending their autonomyand sovereignty wherever they can. While there seems to be a basic willingnessto bring Russia closer to Europe on both sides, there is a rather limitedreadiness to accept the consequences of true integration—the necessity togradually establish joint supranational decision-making bodies and respectjoint rules.

154 ● Christer PursiainenThe spirit was perhaps more optimistic, even utopian, in terms of Russia’sintegration into the EU in the immediate aftermath of the collapse of theSoviet Union and the establishment of the Russian Federation (RF). Inthe course of the early and mid-1990s, President Boris Yeltsin and PrimeMinister Viktor Chernomyrdin used to make occasional but repeated pronouncementson the possibility of Russia’s EU membership over the longterm. Today, while almost all the other European countries have joined orare striving to join the EU, Russian membership is now considered bothimpractical and undesirable.In the EU, the idea of Russian membership was always questioned. Even ifall possible formal criteria and the full body of all EU legislation which mustbe adopted by all new member states (acquis communautaire) were met, acommon underlying belief is that Russia is simply too vast in terms of territoryand population, and militarily too independent and important a globalactor, to join the club. As such, Russia’s membership would alter the wholebalance and nature of the EU.While this attitude was initially seen negatively in Moscow, as one that discriminatedagainst Russia, Russian politicians no longer speak of membershipas a realistic or even desirable goal. The change toward a more pragmatic andself-confident line vis-à-vis the EU took place in late 1990s. Consequently,as stated in The Russian Federation Middle Term Strategy toward the EuropeanUnion (2000–2010), relations between the EU and Russia should be basedon the “objective need to establish a multi-polar world,” with Russia beingone of the “poles”: “During the period under review, partnership betweenRussia and the European Union will be based on the treaty relations, i.e.without an officially stated objective of Russia’s accession to or ‘association’with the EU. As a world power situated on two continents, Russia shouldretain its freedom to determine and implement its own domestic and foreignpolicies, using the status and advantages of a Euro-Asian state and as thelargest country of the CIS, the independence of its position and activities atinternational organizations” (Russian Federation 1999).The Russian idea of a multipolar world also includes understanding theEU as a “pole,” potentially balancing together with Russia and other greatpowers against the hegemony of the United States. Thus, President VladimirPutin underlined exactly this perspective in his article celebrating thefiftieth anniversary of the European Union, widely published in Russian andEuropean media in March 2007. In this article, Putin also repeated the 1999policy line toward the EU:We view European integration as an objective process, representing an integralpart of the emerging multi-polar world order. . . . The development of

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 155multifaceted ties with the EU is Russia’s principled choice. It is true that in theforeseeable future, for obvious reasons, we have no intention of either joiningthe EU or establishing any form of institutional association with it. Viewingthe situation in a realistic light, Russia intends to build its relations with theEU on the basis of a treaty and a strategic partnership. In this regard I agreewith [the former president of the EC] Romano Prodi’s formula of our relationshipwith the EU: “Everything but institutions.” 6 (Putin 2007)Thus, the Russian leadership has explicitly chosen to see the world fromthe traditional (neo)realist great-power perspective, which virtually excludesthe option of Russia’s EU membership and any other forms of supranationalgovernance in the key areas of state policy.While the membership option is excluded, the current approach tocloser EU-Russia cooperation is that the EU and Russia should create“common spaces” in four areas of cooperation: the Common EconomicSpace; the Common Space of Freedom, Security, and Justice; the CommonSpace of Cooperation in the Field of External Security; and theCommon Space of Research and Education, including Culture (see Tables6.1, 6.2). While these priorities are reflecting the self-interest needs of bothparties in a rather interdependent environment, there is nevertheless no sensethat this cooperation should lead to any limitations on state sovereignty.Integration as a Source ofEconomic Growth and WelfareThe above theories are often regarded as “political” as opposed to “economic”theories of integration. Most economic theories of integration are based onclassical liberal economic theory, which emphasizes the general benefits ofthe free markets resulting from integration. The “goals of integration,” then,should be enabling the optimal international division of labor, the resultingoptimal economic growth, the provisioning of equal rights in economicactivity, a more even income distribution, and an increase in freedom ofchoice (Streeten 1961).From the economic integrationist point of view, which is generallyregarded as the core motor of integration, the Common (European) EconomicSpace (earlier CEES, now CES) becomes interesting. The idea of theCES came up rather surprisingly in the EU-Russia Summit in May 2001. 7This activity resulted in The Common European Economic Space (CEES)Concept Paper in 2003. It defines the CEES as follows: “The CEES meansan open and integrated market between the EU and Russia, based on theimplementation of common or compatible rules and regulations, includingcompatible administrative practices, as a basis for synergies and economies

156 ● Christer Pursiainenof scale associated with a higher degree of competition in bigger markets. Itshall ultimately cover substantially all sectors of the economy” (CEES 2003).The basic instruments of this concept are “market opening,” “regulatoryconvergence,” and “trade facilitation.” In May 2005 the EU and Russiaagreed on the Road Maps for the above-mentioned four Common Spaces(Road Maps 2005), altogether fifty-two pages with a list of priorities andaction plans, including a Road Map of the CES (Table 6.2).What kind of a relationship does the CES indicate between the EU andRussia? Following the classical categorization (Balassa 1961), we can distinguishamong five different types or degrees of economic integration: freetrade area, customs union, single market, economic union, and full economicintegration. Let us consider the CES concept in light of these categories.A free trade area (FTA) refers to a group of countries that have agreedto eliminate tariffs, quotas, and preferences on most goods traded amongthem. Typical FTAs are, for instance, the European Free Trade Association(EFTA) and the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA). As a matterof fact, the original idea was exactly to create an FTA between the EUand Russia. The idea came from the Russian side during the Partnership andCooperation Agreement (PCA 1994) negotiations at the beginning of the1990s. Russia did not reach its original objective, which was that the PCAwould define the date to start negotiations on an FTA between the EU andRussia. However, an article was added to the PCA, which stipulated that the“parties shall examine together in the year 1998 whether the circumstancesallow the beginning of negotiations on the establishment of a free tradearea” (Article 3). In January 1998, when the parties met for the first timeafter the ratification of the PCA, it was jointly concluded that an FTA wasnot timely.However, the goal of an FTA is included also in the EU documents andstrategies drafted after the PCA. Thus, in the EU’s Common Strategy towardsthe Russian Federation from 1999, the EU announced that it would examine“how to create the necessary conditions, in addition to World TradeOrganization accession, for the future establishment of an EU-Russia FreeTrade Area.” In the strategy, the question is connected to Russian WTOmembership, the development of Russia’s own legislation and standardsaccording to the PCA (i.e., harmonization with EU legislation), and alsomore indirectly to the development and stabilization of democracy and therule of law in Russia (European Council 1999). The Russian Federation MiddleTerm Strategy towards the European Union (2000–2010) is also based on thefuture prospect of “creation of the Russia–European Union free trade zone”(Russian Federation 1999).

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 157After these documents, the goal of an FTA has been overshadowed byRussia’s effort to achieve WTO membership and was removed from the activeagenda. However, in May 2006, the European Commission again signaled theprospect of an FTA with Russia as part of talks on the possibility of a renewedPCA (perhaps retitled as a Strategic Partnership Agreement) to be negotiatedbetween the partners sooner or later, as the current agreement formally endedin 2007 (and is currently temporarily prolonged). In any case, one can say thatat the declaratory level, both parties are loosely committed to the future of theFTA, although it does not seem very realistic in the short run.Is the CES supposed to become or include an FTA? In fact, while theConcept Paper from 2003 notes that the scope of the CES “shall be broaderand deeper in comparison to the WTO and PCA provisions” (CEES 2003,7), it does not include the term FTA. Instead, the Concept Paper refers to“eliminating obstacles and creating opportunities” in four areas of economicactivity, namely the “cross-border trade of goods,” the “cross-border tradein services,” the “establishment and operation of companies,” and “relatedaspects of movement of persons” (CEES 2003, 7, 8) The Road Map from2005 to some extent details these overall goals, but it does not mentionanything about an FTA.In the preparation of the Concept Paper, however, the parties commissionedseveral economic impact studies, and at least one of them (Brenton2002; see also Brunat et al. 2004) took the idea of an FTA literally. Nevertheless,relying on official documents so far, it seems clear that the CES shouldbe something more than the PCA and the WTO membership, yet it remainsunclear whether at the same time it is supposed to be and FTA or perhapsmore or less than such an arrangement.A customs union, in turn, is an FTA with a common external tariff, thatis, the members of a customs union have the same policies and commonrules (customs duties, quotas, preferences, and so forth, to all goods enteringthe area) with respect to nonmembers. Examples of customs unions includethe European Community/Union, the EU-Turkey Customs Union, and theSouthern African Customs Union, for instance.Neither the Concept Paper nor Road Map mentions the prospect of a customsunion. By contrast, while it seems not to be on the agenda at least forthe time being between the EU and Russia, it has been one of the main issuesbetween Russia and some former Soviet republics, indicating that Russia aimsat a much closer level of integration with these countries compared to theprospects of EU-Russia integration. 8Whatever the future result of these post-Soviet or Commonwealth ofIndependent States (CIS) integration efforts, as to the impact of these

158 ● Christer Pursiainenarrangements to the EU-Russia CES, it remains very unclear how anyform of post–Soviet area economic integration and EU-Russian economicintegration should be combined, and how the elements of a customsunion would fit the concept. In many ways, Russia is in a trap betweenthe CIS and EU-Russian integration, because their forms and goals are notreadily compatible.A single market is a customs union that also has common policies onproduct regulation and freedom of movement for all the factors of production(goods, services, capital, and labor). Examples of single markets includethe European Community (EC) and the European Economic Area (EEA).There clearly are elements of a single market in the CEES Concept Paperand the CES Road Map, even if the term is not used. Instead, both theConcept Paper and the Road Map speak about an “open and integrated marketbetween the EU and Russia” (Road Maps, 1). Furthermore, there is talk ofremoving most obstacles to the free movement of goods, services, capital,and labor. Without being a customs union, however, the CES would notfollow the traditional definition of a single market.A very developed form of economic integration, an economic union,means everything specified above and the harmonization of national economicpolicy norms, rules, and regulations, generally through supranationalinstruments and decision making under legal obligation. Should one combineit with the supranational governance of different sectors of economicpolicy, this union would reach the stage of full economic integration. An eventighter definition adds to it the establishment of a monetary union, witha common currency and monetary policy. The Euro-zone within the EUfulfills these criteria. However, there are no signs whatsoever that theEU or Russia would be willing to lead the CES process as far as the creationof supranational bodies to govern common economic policies.The discussion above, summarized in Table 6.3, shows that the CES is arather novel combination compared to traditional forms of economic integration.It seems to incorporate some elements of an FTA, but excludes thecustoms union. At the same time, it has some features of a single market,and through regulatory convergence it also includes some elements of aneconomic union. But at the end of the day, it does not fulfil the criteria of anyexisting form of economic integration.Two rival hypotheses could be proposed on the basis of this ambiguity.First, relying on neofunctionalist logic, the flexibility of the CES can be seenas its strength, starting a more dynamic process in deepening EU-Russianintegration. The rationale of this approach and interpretation is that a rathertechnical functionalist and sector-specific approach is preferable to idealisticgoals that could not be implemented anyway, thus not repeating the rather

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 159unsuccessful experience of CIS integration. Too-optimistic goals would onlyfreeze the process by creating too many unsolved problems. Instead, movingon the long road of practical and area-specific problem solving will finallyshow where the road leads.Second, one might also claim that the lack of a clear-cut goal and solutionin the current conception of the CES should be interpreted exactly asits weakness, leading to half-hearted compromises and exceptions rather thanreal integration. At the same time, the vague CES concept allows both sidesto continue indefinitely the diplomatic game, pretending that the relationsare in progress.The current CES with its Road Map, being actually a list of prioritiesrather than a road map, is lacking two things in particular: a clear-cut goaland a schedule. In order to go beyond the current approach, the first stagewould be to detail the CES so that the clear goal of an FTA, followed by asingle market, would be articulated. The second stage would be to work outa detailed and realistic schedule toward these goals, with sectoral transitionalperiods safeguarding both EU and Russian short-term interests.Integration by LawLegal approximation is more like a practical effort than a theoretical approach.However, it is philosophically and theoretically based on the thesis of classicaleconomic liberalism that the convergence of legal systems will in the long runstabilize and strengthen national economies, creating a healthy competitiveenvironment. The underlying idea is to make the international conditions forthe movement of goods, capital, services, and people similar, automaticallydeepening integration.In today’s world, the phenomenon of legal approximation is connectedwith globalization. The main motivation lies in the fact that increased tradeand rapid communication have created large regional and global markets.Greater harmonization makes sense, especially from the business perspective,since global markets require that firms operate in a number of legal spheres.Uncertainty and practical problems created by variations in the approachtaken by different authorities can impose significant costs on these firms.There are several models that could be used in legal harmonization betweenRussia and the EU, including a more or less gradual and formal convergenceof legal regimes (Kashkin 2005; Isaev 2005; Kellermann 2005). In principle,this approach is included in the official EU-Russian strategy of how Russiawould be integrated into the EU. The active partner in this respect would beRussia, who should voluntarily and consciously harmonize its legislation with

160 ● Christer Pursiainenthat of the EU, not the other way around. The problem is that the process isnot automatic but Russia has to have the political will to do it.Russia had this will in 1994 when the PCA was signed. The legal approximationapproach between the EU and Russia is based on Title VI, Article55 of the PCA. It states that “Russia shall endeavour to ensure that itslegislation shall be gradually made compatible with that of the Community”(PCA 1994, 48, 49). The process of legal approximation and regulatory convergenceis also understood as one of the basic instruments of implementingthe CES, and the prioritized areas mentioned in the PCA are basically thesame as those in the CES Road Map (Table 6.2).The idea of Russia imitating the EU is, of course, controversial for manyRussian politicians. The basic philosophy of this approach could be questionedby asking why it is only Russia who should harmonize: why couldnot the EU also harmonize its legislation with Russian legislation? To thisobjection there are rather natural reasons for defending unilateral harmonizationby Russia—if the goal is integration. First, most or almost allof the legal harmonization issues are of economic nature, and the sheerdifference of the size of the economies of the EU and Russia suggests thatthe reverse process is unrealistic. Second, the EU is also overwhelminglyRussia’s largest foreign trade partner with more than a 50 percent share,while the EU’s foreign trade with Russia is much smaller, in relative terms(Tables 6.5–6.8). Third, it is generally accepted that European legislation ismore advanced as well as more suitable for enforcing regional integrationisttendencies than Russian legislation, which is based on a protectionist philosophyin many fields.However, there may be some mechanisms to provide Russia with thepossibility of effecting European legislation informally during the preparatoryphase and not merely blindly adapting its own legislation to that of theEU. During the earlier phases of European integration, association wasconsidered one of the possible ways in which a country could integrate into theEU (then the EEC or the European Community) without full membership.Following this train of thought, some mechanisms were proposed bylegal specialists of how an associated country could have the possibility ofconsultation in preparing European legislation without becoming formallyinvolved in Community decision making. After that, the associated countrywould voluntarily harmonize its own legislation. This kind of mechanism,in one form or another, could perhaps be developed between the EUand Russia.It is also worthy of mention that between the EU and Russia, the vocabularyused is “approximation” or “regulatory convergence” and not total“harmonization.” Thus, Russia is not supposed to adopt European legislation

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 161as such, but to consider Russian particularities as well. Moreover, Europeanlegislation is only one part of the legislation of EU Member States; a lotof competency and sovereignty remains at the level of national parliaments,even within the EU. Similarly, only part of Russian legislation needs convergewith EU legislation.Nevertheless, what remains to be proven is Russia’s willingness to implementthe legal approximation article of the PCA, which would require newmechanisms from the Russian legislative bodies to ensure the compatibilityof Russian legislation with its European counterpart. Should Russia sincerelytry to approximate European legislation, a further challenge would be to createformal or informal mechanisms of communication already implied in thepreparatory phase of EU legislation.Currently, the legal approximation approach is not applied in any systemizedway, and there exist neither formal controlling mechanisms nor timeschedules that would ensure that the relevant parts of Russian legislationwould be harmonized with those of the EU. However, a starting point tothis effect might be the so-called “Regulatory Dialogues,” which the EUhas opened with certain countries important to the EU. With Russia, thisstarted in the fields of financial services, intellectual property rights, andpublic procurement in 2006. However, it has so far only been a question ofsome individual meetings where information was exchanged, rather than anyinstitutionalization of legal approximation.Marxist Theories and Interest Groups’ Politics:The Winners and Losers of IntegrationMarxist approaches do not belong to the mainstream of integration theories.However, a trend can be traced from the 1960s onward of critical analysis ofEuropean integration with a clear connection to Marxism. The basic issuein all Marxist analyses is to see conflict as the motor of European integration.However, there are slightly different approaches within Marxist analysisrelating to exactly where the nexus of the conflict lies (Shaw 2004; Van derPijl 1998; Cocks 1980).A basic view, perhaps accepted by most Marxist analysts, is that regionalintegration is just another phase of capital accumulation, based on the differentphases of capitalist development. When the nation-state becomes ahindrance for capital accumulation, capitalism goes regional or global andthe capitalist class with it, thus becoming a transnational capitalist class.From this perspective, the mode of late capitalism demanded a change inthe relationship between European nation-states and the economy, leadingto an attempt to restructure regional economic control. That is why the

162 ● Christer Pursiainencapitalist class has forced a reform of state intervention in the economy,reshaping the state to better serve the interests of the capitalist class. InEuropean integration, the issue was a shift from Keynesianism to neoliberalism,allowing inter-European ownership of production. This shift fromthe previous limits of the nation-state is most notably evident in separatingeconomic decision making from national legislative parliamentarism. Thisdepoliticization is particularly evident in monetary policy, with the EuropeanMonetary Union (EMU) isolating national parliaments from the elaborationof monetary policy.This approach sees the state as an instrument in the hands of the capitalistclass; and at European level, the European institutions are understoodas forums through which the capitalist class is using its class agency to craftnew rules for the game. A more complex view is that neither the state northe European institutions are purely tools of the dominating class, but theyare arenas where the class struggle crystalizes. The outcomes of historical classantagonism give rise to the functions and forms of the present state vis-à-visthe European integration.Some analysts within the Marxist school of European integration put moreemphasis on intercapitalist rivalries as the central conflict behind integrativedevelopments. It is a question of the redistribution of capitalist space. Herewe can again find two tendencies. On the one hand, European integrationcan be interpreted as the result of interimperialist rivalries between U.S. andEuropean capitalist classes. European integration thus would be caused bythe pressure from American capital, being a defensive reaction of Europeancapital. On the other hand, some analysts emphasize the fragmentation ofthe European capitalist class, and especially the conflict between national andtransnational capitalist interests. National bourgeoisie protecting nationalcapitalists favor protectionism, while those capitalists and their politicalallies with transnational interests favor free trade. This rivalry—similar tothe rivalry between the working class interests and the capitalist interests—is then mirrored in the policies of nation-states toward integration (Vander Pijl 1998).It is especially from the perspective of the latter approach that theMarxist analysis of European integration has a lot to offer to the analysisof EU-Russian relations, even if from a non-Marxist point of view. Thecontemporary Marxist theories are often located within International PoliticalEconomy (IPE). As a matter of fact, the politically more neutral trendwithin IPE often uses explanatory elements similar to those in Marxism.An approach drawing on domestic politics theories combined with the newpolitical economy emphasizes interest group politics (Zysman and Schwartz1998). This approach, like some Marxist analyses, would suggest that when

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 163the interest groups supporting integration have more influence than thoseopposing integration, the integration process will proceed. In other words,integration in terms of regional trade arrangements, custom unions, and soon has great redistributive consequences, creating both winners and loserswithin the member states themselves.If we look at the foreign trade structure of Russia, it is obvious that oil, gas,and rather low-value-added metal products constitute the overwhelming partof Russian exports, while Russia imports mainly capital and produced goodssuch as machinery, equipment, chemicals, consumer goods, and food (Table6.4). When it comes to EU-Russian trade, the same structure prevails and haseven been reinforced by the rapid growth of EU-Russian trade over the pastfew years. We also notice that the EU is overwhelmingly Russia’s main tradepartner, accounting for about half of Russia’s foreign trade, whereas Russia’sshare of the EU’s external trade, despite being the EU’s third-largest tradingpartner after the United States and China, remains only around 10 percent(though this varies greatly among the member states). In other words, the EUis much more important for Russian foreign trade than vice versa. Nevertheless,the EU is very much dependent on Russian gas, and this dependency isgrowing rather rapidly (Tables 6.5–6.8).It is, however, hard to make any general conclusions on this basis alone,except that it seems natural that the Russian state’s self-interest calls for effortsin respect of diversification and the balancing of its foreign trade structuresuch that Russia will not remain simply a raw material and energy producerfor the rest of the world, heavily reliant on outside technology.For a Marxist or an IPE analysis, however, this trade structure suggeststhat different parts of the Russian economy may have clearly contradictoryinterests vis-à-vis European integration. From this perspective, the role of theRussian business elites becomes important. The role, nature, and influenceof the Russian business elites, the so-called oligarchs or financial-industrialgroupings, is a much-discussed theme in any analysis of Russian politics. Itis generally thought that while the business elites, or the oligarchs, were onceactively involved in high-level political decision making, today the politicalelite is more and more involved in the business elites’ decision making. Thisdevelopment is sometimes described as a change from “oligarchic capitalism”toward “bureaucratic capitalism.” In this kind of a system, the interests ofRussia and the rules of the game in the economic field are defined withinthe network of the Russian state bureaucracies and Russian business elites.Policies of integration and protectionism arise from this process.It is generally regarded that the majority of Russian business eliteshave a positive attitude toward deeper integration with the European and

164 ● Christer Pursiainenworld economies and consequently do not categorically oppose the liberalizationof foreign economic relations and domestic markets. Among theprospective benefits of integration are growing export markets, simplifiedimporting, growing foreign investments, greater possibilities to receive foreignloans, and the transfer of technical know-how to Russia. However insome sectors, integration is seen as a threat rather than a possibility, sincethese sectors do not have a realistic potential of penetrating European markets(for economic, political. or quality-related reasons). These sectors thusconcentrate on domestic markets and support protectionism (Pursiainen2007; Doty, Forsberg, and Pursiainen 2000).As the role of the Russian state in this kind of “bureaucratic capitalism” isemphasized, some analysts have tried to divide the Russian business sectorsinto “sensitive” and “nonsensitive” sectors with regard to market opening andintegration. While some sectors might be sensitive from military or economicstrategy points of view, or both, there are sectors that have a low-level sensitivity,from national strategic perspectives, and that are therefore more open tointegrative features (Liuhto 2007). Yet these state interests have to be harmonizedwith those of the businesses.Parts of the Russian business sectors (or capitalist class) are not only lookingat the benefits of integration for Russian-based industries but are activelyseeking for the transnationalization of Russian capital, especially in the formof foreign direct investments (FDI). Gas, oil, metallurgy companies, andmaritime transportation make up the major part of this transnationalization.Territorially, about a half of Russian FDI is in the enlarged EU, and a quarteris in the United States; the three main individual countries are the UnitedStates, Poland, and Germany, together totaling over a half of all RussianFDI. While the big Russian companies are often state-controlled companies,meaning that their foreign trade strategies are intermingled with Russianforeign policy in one way or other, there is also a growing number of freemarketers led by economic rationality in their foreign operations. However,the natural resource–based companies close to the state apparatus are alsoseeking markets and efficiency, and EU markets are often prioritized becauseof the superior profits available compared with, for instance, the CIS (Vahtraand Liuhto 2004).In other words, EU-Russian integration will create winners and losers inthe Russian economy. Moreover, while the different Russian business elitesdo not have identical interests, they do not have equal lobbying capacitiesor access to political decision making. The same goes naturally for the EU,too. For instance, the EU textile industry and metallurgy sectors are oftenlobbying for protectionism against imports from Russia.

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 165The normative lesson of the above perspectives is that should one wantEU-Russian integration to proceed, one should seek to buttress those economicand political elites that see their own self-interest as connected tofurther integration. The analytic lesson is that in order to understand theprocess of integration between Russia and the EU—both successes andfailures—we should carefully consider the respective sector’s internal elitepower structure and interests and estimate the sectoral elite’s influence onthe decisions taken in the Russian (as well as EU) federal, regional, and localdecision-making environments (Pursiainen 2007).From this perspective, Russia’s political and administrative decisions onEuropean integration are not a result of any geopolitical master plan, butof compromises, conflicting interests, and different types of formal andinformal influence networks, where the central actors are the central stateapparatus, national and regional political-administrative elites, and thesectoral business elites. This decision-making complex is also, to a varyingextent, influenced by external actors and factors, such as other countries,international organizations, international business corporations, the Russianmedia, and civil society.Integration through Institutions and Practices 9Most mainstream International Relations theories have something to offerthe analysis of integration. Neoinstitutionalism, or regime theory (Rittberger1993; Hasenclever, Mayer, and Rittberger 1997), comes close to “liberal” versionsof intergovernmentalism. This approach claims that cooperation needsinsti¬tutions that by their very existence change the cost-benefit calculationsof member states. According to the institutionalist view, institutions work asschools for cooperation. Since institutions represent long-term cooperationin contrast to a cooperation based on case by case, they create a “shadowof the future” and help states to build strategies on cooperative efforts,rather than mere self-interest. For this to happen, however, states shouldbe politically willing to abandon short-term calculations on relative gains(who wins more?) and concentrate on absolute gains (where both win) andreciprocal relationships. This “tit-for-tat” approach makes it possible forstates to abandon short-term calculations and concentrate on the net benefitsof continuing cooperation. Repeated institutionalized cooperation will teachstates to trust each other, and this experience makes them willing to makecompromises, since in the long run everyone wins.Examining EU-Russian relations from this point of view, we shouldconcentrate on the institutions. To begin with, there is no lack of formalEU-Russian institutions. The most important regulative mechanism has

166 ● Christer Pursiainenbeen the Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA 1994), whichdefines basic principles, goals, procedures, rights, and so on in EU-Russianrelations. The PCA, negotiated between 1992 and1994, was signed in 1994and ratified in December 1997, in effect for ten years. Most bilateral institutionalmechanisms are defined by the PCA, with some modifications andnew institutions. 10Yet there are contradictory views on the functionality of these institutions.While Russia has been unhappy with existing institutions longer, theEU position has been quite clear: existing institutions and mechanisms havebeen sufficient for a considerable enhancement of EU-Russian relations—ifRussia would have had political will. From the point of view of the EU, thePCA, for instance, has been seen as a vital and well-functioning instrumentshould Russia want to be more closely integrated into Europe, and the EUhas therefore not wanted to open the agreement.However, the PCA ended formally at the end of 2007. As the negotiationson a new agreement will be considerably delayed, 11 the current PCA willbe temporarily continued until a new agreement is concluded. This newagreement will probably reflect especially Russia’s concerns as to the basicinstitutional solutions.From the EU’s point of view, Russia has always been more interested informs and formalities than in substance and implementation. Many commentatorsfrom the EU side argue that the Permanent Partnership Council(PPC), established in 2003 on Russian initiative, does not actually differ inany crucial way from the previous Cooperation Council (CC). While somecommentators remark that Russia aspired to imitate the Russia-NATOCouncil, others point out that Russia just wanted to replace “cooperation”with “permanent partnership,” because it sounds better.Both sides acknowledge that the PCA’s nine subcommittees, 1 where thereal work should be done, do not work properly. According to EU commentators,the reason is not in the form but the fact that Russia cannot decideits position concerning the questions on the table, so it postpones or cancelsmeetings. From the EU perspective, Russia could work effectively within thecommittees, if it only wanted to do so.Another more principled reason for the restructuring of diplomatic relationsis that Russia would like to conduct negotiations in the 27(+1)+1form with the EU (as with NATO), that is, with all the EU member statesadded by the Commission, instead of Troika (the Commission and the currentand future presidency country). While Russia would see this kind ofcooperation as being more “equal,” from the EU point of view, this would,on the contrary, mean that Russia would become too involved in theEU’s internal decision making. This Russian approach is also seen by some

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 167EU representatives as a sign that Russia sometimes does not properly understandwhat belongs to the jurisdiction of the European Commission, thecountry holding the presidency, or the member states themselves. However,in some particular and specific issues, such as transport, the EU has agreed towork informally in line with the 27(+1)+1 formula.Thus, even if EU-Russian relations are rather institutionalized, the kind oflogic neoinstitutionalism proposes seems to be absent. While the institutionswithout doubt enhance and facilitate EU-Russian cooperation, they at thesame time create new conflicts. As a matter of fact, the main criticism againstneoinstitutionalism is exactly that it supposes that the mere existence of institutionswill change the cost-benefit calculations of states. The experience ofthe EU-Russian relations seems to confirm this criticism.Since the mere existence of institutions does not explain why integrationsometimes proceeds and sometimes does not, neoinstitutionalist explanationsare often challenged or accompanied by social constructivism. Constructivism,either in its mainstream or more poststructuralist forms (Katzenstein1996; Kratochwil 1993; Onuf 1998; Wendt 1999), focuses on the necessityof shared informal and implicit values, norms, and rules—identities—as aprecondition of successful cooperation and integrationFor some constructivists, a shared state identity is seen as constructedin everyday practices and contacts among individual decision-makers. Thispoint has undoubted relevance to EU-Russian relations. Indeed, one hearsoften, especially from the EU side, that most significant problems arise notfrom the inefficiency of the formal institutions between the EU and Russia,but from the behavioral culture of these relations.From the EU point of view, the Russian style of negotiations, for instance,is seen as very confrontational. From the European perspective, there is a“natural Russian tendency” to think about international negotiations andinternational cooperation as a zero-sum game: if you win, I lose. Russia’sfocus is on relative gains, not on long-term reciprocity in a win-win game.This notion implies that the worldviews of Russian and of EU leaders differin many respects: Russian decision-makers have adopted a realist, self-helpworldview, while the EU’s policy is shaped around the idea of the importanceof international institutions and positive interdependence.Should one agree with these notions, from a normative perspective onecan conclude that both the EU and Russia should pay special attention to thepractice and the basic philosophy of their relations. It is important to considerwhether the behavioral culture in the cooperation practices is basedon or produced by the shared implicit values, norms, and rules, and whichpractices in the longer run would bring identities closer together. Currently,it might be claimed that the slogan of shared values is only superficially added

168 ● Christer Pursiainento any EU-Russian documents (such as the Common Spaces Road Maps)but not taken seriously at the level of practice. The analytic task in turnwould be to study the concrete EU-Russian interaction practices.Transnational Regionalism: Communication MattersOne of the classical integration theories of the 1950s and 1960s is known asthe transactionalist or communications school of thought. This approach wasnot explicitly concerned with European integration and in fact did not presupposeany tight territorial and institutional organization, but rather a flowof communication between relevant actors (Deutsch 1954, 1966; Deutsch etal. 1967). Its essence was that mutual transactions or communications (travel,trade, telecommunication, etc.) combined with mutual responsiveness mightgenerate a sense of community in certain conditions. This kind of a responsivecommunity, or even “pluralistic security communities,” would be theresult of a complex and slow learning process, which increasingly involvedthe sharing of symbols, identities, habits, memories, values, and norms.While Deutsch focused mostly on “elite-led attempts to institutionalizeand formalize the initial functional linkages” (Rosamond 2000, 47), somecontemporary analysts carry these ideas further by putting more emphasison the societal level—the level of citizens and civil societies rather than thatof the elites or decision-makers—as the basis from which identities grow. Atthis level, the preconditions for “Russia joining Europe” were laid long beforethe collapse of the communist economic and political system. Although thepopulation of the Soviet Union was cut off from spontaneous transnationalconnections, it did not stop youth movements and dissidents from appropriatingideas from the West, nor did it keep the elite and masses alike fromyearning for Western lifestyles and consumer goods. According to some sociologists,this especially took hold in the 1970s, “a period of major social andsocio-psychological shifts” with far-reaching consequences in terms of theoverall modernization of society. The essence of these changes was that “anindustrial society was definitely formed” in the country, and “the process ofurbanization was completed and a new generation grew up, shaped by theconditions of Europeanized city life” (Kagarlitsky 1990, 284).Currently this Europeanization of standards, values, norms, and behavioralcultures in different fields of Russian society is going on through several“informal” means of transnational communication (tourism, media, Internet,etc.). In terms of formal processes, the same development takes place,for instance, through the pan-European higher education integration process(the so-called Bologna process), which ultimately will harmonize or at leastmake comparable the higher education systems of Russia and the EU and

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 169consequently further academic mobility and the convergence of the academiclabor market.A school of thought—influenced by constructivist ideas—that could belabeled as “transnational regionalism” questions the whole state-centerednature of contemporary international politics. Part of this literature suggeststhat the emphasis in international relations is more and more on “low politics”between regions and nonstate actors, which “assumes a far more co-operativenature” than the traditional emphasis on interstate “high politics” betweenRussia and its neighbors (Joenniemi 1998, 194).While the sovereignty of states may not disappear, national borders arebecoming open, giving added space for transnational or global civil societyactivities (Makarychev and Bradshaw 2001). In other words, a movementof nongovernmental organizations from the local to the global level can beidentified, largely due to the globalization of communication via the Internet,which makes it physically and financially feasible for civil society actorsto establish and maintain transnational cooperation (Willetts 1997).Thus, what is happening in EU-Russian relations from this perspectivewould be a transnational or global civil society development “from below,”beyond official EU-Russian relations. This kind of transnationalism opens upmany kinds of interrelationships between Russia and the outside world at thesocietal level. For instance, Russian civil society actors—and through them,Russian society as a whole—may be affected by outside actors and tendencies.Or Russian civil society actors may themselves be active in influencingthe outside world. Or Russian civil society actors may collaborate with theirtransnational nongovernmental or governmental partners in efforts to dealwith some common global or regional questions beyond national borders.In this process, however, it is not only Russian civil society that becomestransnational; European societies are influenced as well. This activity may leadto a genuine multicultural dialogue overcoming traditional statist boundaries.While this transnationalization of civil societies may not have a greatimmediate or direct impact on EU-Russian relations, indirectly it certainlyshapes the conditions of cooperation, which, in turn, may be reflected inRussia’s and the EU’s or member states’ official policies in the longer run.The EU (and other regional organizations) together with the Russianstate may play a role in this development by either hindering or facilitatingthe process. Several things reflecting current EU-Russian relations, such associoeconomic dividing lines, soft security threats as a source of conflict,a visa regime and a tightened Schengen border, bureaucratic border practices,Russia’s centralization and problems of region-to-region cooperationassociated with that, the Russian state’s rather conservative attitude towardtransnational civil society cooperation, protectionism hindering trade, and

170 ● Christer Pursiainenso forth may disturb the transnationalization of civil societies. On the otherhand, some of these very same issues can also enhance cooperation. Forinstance, soft security threats may not only be a source of conflict but also asource of cooperation and joint projects between Russian and EU-based civilsocieties, regional authorities, and the businesses.Conclusions:The Limits and Possibilities of EU-RF Integration?This analysis has briefly reviewed the main integration theories, both classicaland more recent, and discussed EU-Russian relations from those pointsof view. The theories are mainly used to interpret and illustrate EU-Russianrelations rather than serving as a test of these theories. Even so, this approachmay give us reason to draw some analytic and normative conclusions aboutEU-Russian relations (summarized in Table 6.9).Functionalism and neofunctionalism propose a functionally motivatedsector-by-sector approach, and especially the latter emphasizes the spillovereffects and the creation of supranational power centers during this process ofdeepening and widening cooperation. It was concluded that one could wellinterpret EU-Russian relations from this functional point of view. However,there are no signs that any supranational elements would be added to theserelations, as there is no political will on either side to limit decision-makingautonomy. For the same reason, we can find no evidence that would giveprivilege federalist theories’ interpretations of EU-Russian relations.At the same time, intergovernmentalist approaches to integration basedon some form of realism seem to reflect rather well contemporary EU-Russian relations. From this point of view, the EU-Russian relationship doesnot have so many integrationist features but is rather only some kind ofextended, institutionalized cooperation between autonomous rational actorsin certain fields of common interests.Classical economic theories were analyzed through their typologies ofdifferent degrees of integration, and this discussion was applied to the conceptof the Common Economic Space (CES). It became clear that the idea ofthe CES, at least so far, remains very vague. While it may provide a practicalsolution for how to progress from a situation where no one knows exactlywhere to go, it also might remain just another concept based on rather mundaneeconomic cooperation rather than genuine integration. Yet there aresome elements, such as the prospect of the FTA, that surely would deepeneconomic cooperation and lead to convergence of the economic systemsbetween the EU and Russia, if only there were the political will and effectivemechanisms to implement these rather abstract goals.

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 171One of the tools to further economic integration is legal approximation.It was concluded that there exists a basic understanding—though contestedby some Russian actors—that Russia should approximate to or harmonizeits legislation with that of the EU, mainly in those fields connected to theCES. However, the practical steps are still largely to be taken, and there existsno clear-cut mechanism of how to do this.Marxist analysis and interest group politics applied to Russian businesselites in particular provide some new insights. Starting by understandingintegration as a conflict, this approach, Marxist or not, argues that if Russianeconomic interest groups have some influence on EU-Russian relations, theremust be several rival interests involved. There are both winners and losers inEU-Russian integration, and their mutual balance of power with regard topolitical decision-makers becomes important. This approach reflects ratherwell the difficulties in finding practical solutions to problems in economicand trade relations, even if both sides are in principle in favor of integrationand even if the majority of business elites do not oppose closer ties withEurope. The long and difficult negotiations on Russia’s WTO membershipare a case in point, and EU-Russian relations show the same features of practicalproblems, that is, the dilemma of choosing between integration andprotectionism, in the crossfire of different and often competitive businesssector interests.(Neo)institutionalism emphasizes the significance of formal institutionsin facilitating cooperation. However, it was concluded that while EU-Russianrelations are rather institutionalized, the institutions are not automaticallyworking as mainstream institutionalism proposes, that is, by changing theparties’ cost-benefit calculations toward more cooperative policies.That is why a social constructivist approach, emphasizing the importanceof shared identities, values, cultural factors and behavioral practices was addedinto the picture. This approach, whether applied to elite or societal levels, hasthe ability to shed light on some interesting features of EU-Russian relationsand reveals some reasons why basically the society is ready for closer integrationbut also why there sometimes are problems in handling these relations.The transnational regionalism approach was shortly reviewed to picture thepossibility of transnational or global civil society development “from below,”beyond the official EU-Russian relations.Each of the previously discussed theoretical approaches has its own focusand sees causal relations differently. And in theoretical terms, they are ratherdifficult to combine. In practice, however, all the discussed elements aresimultaneously present in EU-Russian relations. To sum up, there are severalfactors that either hinder or further the development of EU-Russian cooperationand integration: societal and elite identities, state interests, sectoral

172 ● Christer Pursiainenor class interests, functional necessities, legal systems institutions, behavioralpractices, transnational communication channels. Thus, taken together, thesepartially incommensurable approaches offer a toolbox of factors and instrumentsthat are crucial if the normative goal is to further Russia’s integrationinto Europe.The dilemma is that without supranational elements, integration meetsits limits rather soon in its traditional meaning. In the more postmodernmeaning of integration, however, the market-driven convergence of legal systemsas well as the transnationalization of capital and civil societies may wellbring the societies closer to each other in the longer run through the generalprocesses of globalization.Table 6.1 Four common spacesFour Common SpacesCommon economic spaceCommon space offreedom, security andjusticeCommon space ofexternal securityPrioritiesGeneral issues of trade and economic cooperationTrade facilitation and CustomsNetworks: telecommunication and transportEnergySpaceEnvironmentFor a more detailed summary, see Table 2FreedomThe movement of personsBorder issuesMigration policyAsylum policySecurityTerrorismFalsified documentsTransnational organised crimeAnti-money laundering regimeNarcotic drug problemTrafficking in human beingsCorruptionTrafficking in stolen vehicles and items ofcultural and historical valueJusticeEfficiency of the judicial systemCooperation on criminal mattersCooperation on civil mattersStrengthened cooperation and dialogue on theinternational sceneFight against terrorismNon-proliferation of the weapons of mass destruction

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 173Table 6.1 Four common spaces (continued)Four Common SpacesCommon space of researchand education, includingcultural aspectsPrioritiesCooperation in crisis managementCooperation in the field of civil protectionResearch, science and technology, aiming atStructuring a knowledge-based society in theEU and RussiaPromoting competitiveness and economic growthEnhancing the link between research and innovationMaintaining small and medium size entrepreneurshipin the field of research and innovationEducationAdopting higher-education comparablecurricula and degrees (the so-calledBologna process)Promoting academic mobilityPromoting life-long learningIncreasing the attractiveness of the Highereducation systems of the EU and RussiaCulturePromoting cultural cooperation and exchangePromoting cooperation of the cultural industriesStrengthening the European identity “withoutdividing lines”Source: Road Maps 2005Table 6.2 Common economic spaceMain issues Sub-issues ObjectivesGeneral issues of trade and Regulatory Dialogue on Harmonized and compatibleeconomic cooperation industrial products, standards, regulations andespecially in:conformity assessmentproceduresICT, Radio andTelecommunicationEquipmentElectrical Equipment andMachineryMedical DevicesAutomotive industryTextiles

174 ● Christer PursiainenTable 6.2 Common economic space (continued)Main issues Sub-issues ObjectivesPharmaceuticalsForest-based and relatedindustriesPublic procurementIntellectual, industrialand commercialproperty rightsCompetitionInvestmentEnterprise policy andeconomic dialogueInterregional andcross-border cooperationFinancial services(banking, insurance,securities)Accounting/auditing andstatisticsAgriculture, forestry,timber, fisheries.Sanitary andphyto-sanitarymeasuresTransparent, competitionbased systems of publicprocurementImprovement of thelegislative and law enforcementsystems in order to enhancecompetitiveness andimproving investment climateApproximation of competitionlegislation and strengtheningof implementing ofcompetition policyImproving investment climate,transparency, predictabilityand simplification ofregulationIn-depth dialogue oneconomic reform andenterprise policy, especially in:Automotive industryTextile industryMining and metallurgicalcomplexChemical industryAerospace industriesDeepening and diversificationof interregional cooperationStability and sound financialsystem, protection of servicesconsumersTransparency, share-holderprotection, favorableinvestment conditionsRegulatory convergence

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 175Table 6.2 Common economic space (continued)Main issues Sub-issues ObjectivesTrade facilitation andcustomsTo facilitate, to standardizeand to automate external tradeoperationsNetworks: Telecommunications, EU-Russia Informationtelecommunication information society and Society areaand transporte-businessEnergySpaceEnvironmentTransportThe complementarity of theRussian and EU transportsectors and gradual integrationof transport networksIntensifying the EU-RussiaEnergy Dialogue insustainability, reliability,distribution, transportation,energy efficiency, energysavings and renewableenergiesEffective EU-RussiacooperationPromoting the commitmentto and implementation ofinternational environmentalagreementsSource: Road Maps 2005Table 6.3 The degree of economic integration in EU-Russian relationsRelevance for EU-RussianDegree of integration Description economic relationsFree trade area (FTA) A group of countries that Unclear, but probably the mosthave agreed to eliminate logical solutiontariffs, quotas andpreferences on mostgoods between them. FTA is mentioned in the PCA(1997) as a possible futuresubject of negotiations, if thecircumstances will allow it.FTA is also mentioned in theEU strategy on Russia (1999)

176 ● Christer PursiainenTable 6.3 The degree of economic integration in EU-Russian relations (continued)Relevance for EU-RussianDegree of integration Description economic relationsand Russian strategy on theEU (1999) as a future goal.Not mentioned explicitly inthe CEES Concept Paper(2003) or the CES Road Map(2005). Some signs of arenewed interest from the EUin speaking about the FTAfrom 2006 onwards.Customs union A FTA with a common Problematic, not in sightexternal tariff; themembers of a customsunion have the same The CEES Concept Paperpolicies and common (2003) or CES Road Maprules (customs duties, (2005) does not mention thequotas, preferences and prospect of a customs union.so forth to all goodsProblematic from theentering the area) with perspective of the customsrespect to non-members. union plans of Russia withBelarus, Kazakhstan and theUkraine, which might not becompatible with EU-Russiancustoms union perspectives.Single market A customs union, Unclear, possible, but not in itsbuttressed with common traditional formpolicies on productregulation, and freedom There are elements of a singleof movement of all the market in the CEES Conceptfactors of production, Paper (2003) and the CESthat is, goods, services, Road Map (2005), even if thecapital and labour.very term is not used. Theproblem is that the traditionaldefinition of a single marketalso includes a customs union.Economic union Everything above No practical relevancecombined with theharmonisation ofWhile there exist some signsnational economicof regulatory approximation,policy norms, rules and there are no signs whatsoeverregulations, withthat the EU or Russia wouldsupranationalbe willing to lead the CESinstruments andprocess as far as the creationdecision-making under of supranational bodies to

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 177Table 6.3 The degree of economic integration in EU-Russian relations (continued)Relevance for EU-RussianDegree of integration Description economic relationsMonetary unionlegal obligation.Full economic integrationcombined withsupranational governanceof different sectors ofeconomic policyCommon currency andmonetary policygovern common economicpolicies.Everything aboveTable 6.4 Russia’s foreign trade structure 2005 (not CIS)Product groups Export % Import %Food products and 1,1 17,0agricultural raw materialsMineral goods (gas, oil, 67,5 0,9petrol, ores, coal etc.)Chemical products and 5,5 17,9rubberLeather raw materials, 0,1 0,3furs and their productsWood, timber, pulp and 3,4 3,4paper goodsTextiles and footwear 0,2 3,3Precious stones and 3,2 0,3precious metalsFerrous and non-ferrous 14,5 5,1metals and productsMachinery, equipment and 3,6 48,2transport equipmentOther goods (which are 0,9 3,6not mentioned above)Total 100 100Source: Foreign trade of Russia 2005

178 ● Christer PursiainenTable 6.5 Russia’s trade with main partners 2005ImportExportPartners Mio euro % Partners Mio euro %World 77.900 100 World 191.173 1001 EU 34.904 44,8 1 EU 107.494 56,22 Ukraine 6.250 8,0 2 China 10.489 5,53 China 5.819 7,5 3 Ukraine 9.949 5,24 Japan 4.695 6,0 4 Turkey 8.729 4,65 Belarus 3.709 4,8 5 Switzerland 8.410 4,4Source: EU-Russia Relations 2007Table 6.6 EU trade with main partners, 2006ImportExportPartners Mio euro % Partners Mio euro %World 1.348.317 100 World 1.164.719 1001 China 191.342 14,2 1 USA 267.672 23,02 USA 175.813 13,0 2 Switzerland 86.392 7,43 Russia 136.847 10,1 3 Russia 71.791 6,24 Norway 79.019 5,9 4 China 63.248 5,45 Japan 75.631 5,6 5 Turkey 46.350 4,0Source: EU-Russia Relations 2007Table 6.7 European Union, imports from Russia (Mio euro)Share ofProducttotal EUgroup 2002 % 2004 % 2006 % importsTOTAL 61.999 80.722 136.847 10,15Primary 44.752 72,2 57.895 71,7 101.298 74,0 21,20productsof whichEnergy 37.302 60,2 48.749 60,4 89.534 65,4 28,34Agricultural 2.523 4,1 2.215 2,7 2.697 2,0 3,10productsManufactured 7.114 11,5 9.131 11,3 11.173 8,2 1,73productsSource: EU-Russia Relations 2007

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 179Table 6.8 European Union, exports to Russia (Mio euro)Share ofProducttotal EUgroup 2002 % 2004 % 2006 % exportsTOTAL 34.279 45.832 71.791 6,16Primary 4.862 14,2 5.312 11,6 7.671 10,7 5,22productsof which:Agricultural 4.222 12,3 4.571 10,0 6.318 8,8 9,20productsEnergy 182 0,5 247 0,5 461 0,6 0,98Manufactured 28.781 84,0 38.820 84,7 51.359 71,5 6,44productsof which:Machinery 10.920 31,9 16.341 35,7 17.024 23,7 7,45Chemicals 4.659 13,6 6.341 13,8 10.688 14,9 5,88Transport 3.693 10,8 4.970 10,8 8.087 11,3 5,53equipmentSource: EU-Russia Relations 2007Table 6.9 Theories of integration and EU-Russian relationsApproachintegration Focus, hypotheses Prospects for EU-RussianFederalism Integration presupposes Very Low: EU and Russia arecreation of supranational currently not willing to createinstitutions, and the supranational institutions toparties are supposed govern any areas of theirvoluntarily to give up interaction.parts of their politicalsovereignty and autonomyFunctionalism Integration as a result of Possible, but not at sight:functional necessity of Cooperation exists in manytechnocratic cooperation functional fields, such asof experts, which in turn energy or transport, but therecreates new power are no signs of a creationcenters to facilitate of interstate or supranationalthis cooperationpower centers that wouldchallenge the decision-makingsovereignty or autonomy of

180 ● Christer PursiainenTable 6.9 Theories of integration and EU-Russian relations (continued)Approachintegration Focus, hypotheses Prospects for EU-Russianthe EU or Russia in thiscooperation.Neofunctionalism Preconditions: Joint Possible, but not at sight:economic interests, Preconditions partiallysimilarity of theabstaining. Rathereconomic systems, institutionalized cooperationinterdependence, exists in many functionalpolitical pluralism, fields, but there are no signssimilarity of elite groups of willingness to shift loyaltiesStarting phase: The or decision-making powercollaboration would from national to interstatestart from the field, or supranational levels.where the needs of Spillover process does notcooperation are most seem to proceed automaticallyurgent.either.Spill-over effect:Integration will bothdeepen and spill over toother, related fields.Political will: Politicalleaders have to becomeinterested to partiallyshift their loyalties,expectations, andpolitical activitiesbeyond existing nationalbodies to the interstatelevel, or even becomewilling to reallocatenational economic andpolitical power tosupranational levels.Intergovernmentalism, The decisions of Very low: The EU-Russianrealism governments on different relations can, in all aspects,aspects of integration are be explained/described bybest explained by relying relying onon the assumption of a intergovernmentalist/realistrational actor behaving arguments, thus forecastingaccording to its interests. that both the EU and Russiawill defend their sovereigntyand autonomy as muchas possible, even wheninstitutionalized cooperationin different fields exists.

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 181Table 6.9 Theories of integration and EU-Russian relations (continued)Approachintegration Focus, hypotheses Prospects for EU-RussianEconomic liberalisation Emphasis on the general Proceeding slowly, with mixedeconomic growth and signals and results: The currentwelfare -related benefits goal of the Commonof a free market as a result Economic Space (CES) is aof integration. The degree rather novel combinationof integration can be compared to traditional formsdefined by looking at of economic integration. Itwhether it fulfills the incorporates some elementsconditions of free trade of a free trade area, butarea, customs union, excludes the customs union.single market, economic It has some features of a singleunion, or full economic market, and also includesintegration.some elements of an economicunion. But it does not fulfillthe criteria of any existingform of economic integration.In practice, the process goes onslowly, with no clear-cut goalsor schedule.Legal approximation Based on the assumption Proceeding slowly, but takesof classical economic time and requires political will:liberalism, the idea is that Russia’s willingness toconvergence,implement the legalapproximation, or approximation approachharmonization of legal would require newsystems will in the long mechanisms from the Russianrun stabilize and legislative bodies to controlstrengthen national the compatibility of theeconomies and will create Russian legislation with thea healthy competitive European one. A furtherenvironment. The challenge would be to createconditions for movement formal or informalof goods, capital, services, mechanisms of how thereand people become could be communicationsimilar, whichalready in the preparatoryautomatically would lead phase of EU legislation, whichto deepening integration. Russia then would partiallyadopt. Currently, the legalapproximation approach is notapplied in any systemized way.Marxism, IPE, interest Integration is understood Possible, with mixed signalsgroup politics as a conflict, including and results: Especially thecapitalist class versus inter-capitalist rivalryworking class rivalry, as between “transnationalists”

182 ● Christer PursiainenTable 6.9 Theories of integration and EU-Russian relations (continued)Approachintegration Focus, hypotheses Prospects for EU-Russianwell as inter-capitalist and “protectionists” is relevant.rivalry. Integration has The majority of Russiangreat redistributive and European business elitesconsequences, creating is positive toward Russia’sboth winners and losers deeper integration withwithin the participants. Europe and world economy,When the interest groups and, consequently, do notthat win with the oppose the liberalization ofintegration (transnational mutual economic relations andcapitalist class) have more domestic markets. However,influence than the there are important “nationalloosing-with-integration business elites” in some theinterest groups (national business sectors defendingcapitalist class, working their domestic interests againstclass), the integration foreign capitalists, resulting inprocess will proceed. protectionist policies.Neoinstitutionalism Formal institutions work Rather low: Even if theas kinds of schools for EU-Russian relations arecooperation, representing rather institutionalized and thelong-term cooperation, in institutions enhance andcontrast to cooperation facilitate EU-Russiancase by case. States should cooperation, at the same time,be politically willing to they create new conflicts andabandon short-term are not effective enough. Thecalculations on relative mere existence of institutionsgains and concentrate on seems not to be enough toabsolute gains and change the cost-benefitreciprocal relationships, calculations of the EU orthat is on the net benefits Russia. The institutionalof a continuingchanges have not made a greatcooperation. Repeated difference in practice.institutionalizedcooperation will teach thestates to trust on eachother.Constructivism The necessity of shared Possible, but takes time:informal and implicit However, currently thevalues, norms and rules— worldviews of the Russianor identities and and the EU leaders/elitesworldviews—as a differ in many respects;precondition of successful the Russian leaders havecooperation and adopted a clear realist self-helpintegration. This shared worldview, while the EU’sidentity is seen as being policy is more shaped on the

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 183Table 6.9 Theories of integration and EU-Russian relations (continued)Approachintegration Focus, hypotheses Prospects for EU-Russianconstructed in everyday idea of the importance ofcommunication and international institutions andpractices and contacts interdependence.between the decisionmakers.Transnational regionalism The emphasis in Possible, but takes time: Ininternational relations is the longer run, furthermore and more on “low globalization of standards andpolitics” between regions practices, for instance,and nonstate actors rather through convergence ofthan between the states. educational systems, mayWhile the sovereignty of bring the worldviews andstates may not disappear, behavioral practices closernational borders become to each other. A transnationalopen through tourism, or global civil societytravel, migration, labor development “from below”markets, trade, and the may challenge the officialInternet, thus giving EU-Russian relations. Whileadded space forthis transnationalization oftransnational or global civil societies may not have acivil society activities. great immediate or directimpact on EU-Russianrelations, indirectly it shapesthe conditions of cooperation,which, in turn, can bereflected in Russia’s and EU’sor member states’ officialpolicies in the longer run.Notes1. Mitrany, who’s motivation was related to the conditions of international peaceagainst the evil of nationalism, was opposing regional integration and territoriallyorganized power in general and preferred a universal integration, or internationalsociety or world community, created by functional cooperation instead.Functionalism, however, became one of the theories of European integration aswell, against the original purpose of Mitrany. It has been argued that the two keyarchitects of the starting shot of the contemporary EU, the creation of the EuropeanCoal and Steel Community (ECSC), Jean Monnet and Robert Schuman,“borrowed key aspects of what might be termed the functionalist method, without

184 ● Christer Pursiainenadopting Mitrany’s central goal: the dissolution of territorially based authorities”(Cram 2001, 54).2. Compared to functionalism, federalism, connected most notably to such pioneersof European integration as Altiero Spinelli and Sergio Pistone, has beenmore about practical political ideas and approaches than about theoretical andscientific scholarship.3. It was Ernst B. Haas who created the basic theses of this revised functionalistversion called neofunctionalism and later developed it. Other prominent namesinclude Philippe Schmitter, Leon Lindberg, Stuart Scheingold, and Joseph S.Nye. Neofunctionalism has been seen as resulting not only as a synthesis of functionalismand federalism, but also arising from a critique of the realist school,dominating at that time international relations studies. It also draws on someparts of work of Karl Deutsch that pay attention to communication, sharedidentities, and values (Cram 2001, 56).4. The categories of Table 6.1 and Table 6.2 are the author’s summaries based onthe structure and prioritized issues identified in the Road Maps of Common Spacebetween the EU and the Russian Federation, from May 10, 2005.5. While in the official Kremlin English version of Putin’s article, this is actuallyexpressed as “anything but institutions”; the original Russian version with “vse,krome institutov” comes closer to the original. Putin apparently refers to Prodi’swell-known keynote speech: “A Wider Europe—A Proximity Policy as the keyto stability” (speech by Romano Prodi 2002). In that speech, Prodi stated, “Onother occasions I have already referred to this concept, which I described as‘sharing everything with the Union but institutions.’ The aim is to extend to thisneighbouring region a set of principles, values and standards which define thevery essence of the European Union” (Prodi 2002).6. It was the then the president of the European Commission, Romano Prodi, whoproposed it to President Vladimir Putin. After a while, a High-Level Group,headed by Commissioner Chris Patten and Deputy Prime Minister ViktorKhristenko, was established to elaborate the idea further.7. There have been many declarations on a customs union between Russia andsome other CIS states since the mid-1990s. Among the many partially overlappingeconomic integration efforts in the post-Soviet space, the most far-reachingdevelopment is about a Single Economic Space (SES) between Belarus, Kazakhstan,Russia, and Ukraine (SES 2004). However, the agreements are written inthe spirit of a step-by-step process, and the full implementation of the customsunion or even an FTA among the countries still has a long way to go.8. This section’s arguments about the differences between the EU and Russian attitudestoward the formal EU-Russian institutions as well as the differences inbehavioral cultures are based on the author’s subjective conclusions from severaldiscussions with and interviews of EU and Russian authorities during 2004–6,when the author spent two years in a Moscow-based research institute (financedby the EU) and worked for both the EU and the Russian governments.

Theories of Integration and the Limits of EU-Russian Relations ● 1859. They include two summits each year; the recently established Permanent PartnershipCouncil (ministerial level, from the EU side, represented by Troika,including the commission), which replaced the earlier cooperation councils thatmet once a year; cooperation committees (senior official level) meeting as oftenas necessary; subcommittees (working level) dealing with technical issues; a jointparliamentary committee; specific cooperation committees for certain matterssuch as Kaliningrad; TACIS Programme (from 2007 onward the EuropeanNeighbourhood Partnership Instrument); CEES High Level Group; “specificdialogues,” such as Energy Dialogue, Transport Dialogue, and Regulatory Dialogue;meetings and summits in the framework of regional programs such asthe Northern Dimension. Additionally, one should mention several unilateral orbilateral strategies and action plans in different fields.10. Poland vetoed the decision to open negotiations on a new EU-Russian agreementin spring 2007 due to Russia’s long-lasting boycott against importingPolish meat. While this particulal conflict was resolved in late 2007, some analystshave forecasted that it will take perhaps several years before a new agreementwill be reached, because of many similar problems in EU-Russian relations.11. The following nine subcommittees exist according to the PCA: (1) trade andindustry; (2) energy, environment, and nuclear issues; (3) science and technology,human resources, and social cooperation; (4) transport, telecommunications,and space; (5) coal and steel, mining, and raw materials; (6) competition,IPR, approximation of legislation, and fighting against crime; (7) customs andcross-border cooperation; (8) agriculture, fisheries, and consumer protection; (9)financial and economic issues and statistics.

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CHAPTER 7Boundaries of Sovereignty,Frontiers of Integration *Rethinking “Conflict”between Russia and the EUVadim KononenkoOur task is to turn our borders from barriers to bridges of friendship and goodneighbourhood. 2Our task is to promote a ring of well-governed countries to the East of theEuropean Union with whom we can enjoy close and cooperative relations. 3IntroductionIt has become a truism to argue that the Russia-EU relationship is problematic.Occasionally, the word “conflict” is used to describe it, especiallywhen both parties succumb to mutual bickering over a contentious issue.In recent years, there have been low points in Russia-EU relations, which someclaim are manifestations of conflict. Examples include the much-discussedissue of energy security or the emergence of “sovereign democracy” in Russiaunder Putin. 4 In addition, political changes in the EU-Russia “near abroad”arguably present room for conflict (Davidson 2006). One of the commonexplanations for this hypothetical ongoing conflict is that Russia and the EUhave incompatible interests and goals vis-à-vis their common neighborhoodand that these incompatibilities stem from internal intrinsic features andidentities (Lynch 2005).* This chapter is part of a research project, “Russia’s European Choice with or into theEU?” funded by the Academy of Finland and conducted at the Finnish Institute ofInternational Affairs.

188 ● Vadim KononenkoYet, despite an abundance of contentious issues, conflict and incompatibilitybetween Russia and the EU are not self-evident. The two quotationsabove indicate that Moscow and Brussels regard, at least on therhetorical level, their goals in similar terms: both envisage stability and “goodneighborly” relations with each other. Given the essential ambiguity of rhetoricand policies on both sides, descriptions and scenarios of conflict betweenRussia and the EU are as equally problematic as the relationship itself.Taking these ambiguities into account, one could argue that conflict ispart of the actual political process. Such a usual explanation, however, risksexplaining nothing: If conflict is inherent in social interaction, then at whatpoint does one draw the line between conflict and cooperation? This is preciselythe question this chapter aims to discuss. If conflict and cooperationare the two sides of the same coin, it is reasonable to examine how and whythe coin gets tossed in the air in such a way that the sides constantly rotate.Furthermore, recognizing that social reality is multidimensional, it is difficultto conceptualize conflict as a finite quality, as if reality consisted of clearlydefined moments of certainty and uncertainty, conflict and cooperation.In fact, the possibility of seeing both conflict and cooperation taking placesimultaneously appears to be constrained in research. Elements of conflictcan be exaggerated, unintentionally or on purpose. Likewise, the perspectivesfor cooperation can be either emphasized or their significance downplayed.Probing the ambivalence of conflict necessarily involves a choiceor rather a series of choices on the part of a researcher, above all given thefact that elements of conflict and cooperation coexist. Conventional theoriesand concepts are employed to enable understanding and provide forexplanations of a reality that normally appears in flux. Yet, while recognizingthat theories are instrumental and influential in understanding reality, thischapter treats them as part of the problem of choice indicated above. In theirown ways, theories affect perception of whether the coin is still in the air orhas already reached the ground with one side turned to the viewer, anotherhidden. Then there is the element of reflexivity–not only between theoriesbut research practices in general— that needs to be brought back to therealm of research of Russia-EU interaction. 5The analysis that follows is three-pronged. The concept of incompatibilityand its role in research is examined in three situations: (a) assumptions aboutsovereignty, territoriality, and borders; (b) assumptions about Russia-EUinteraction; and (c) policies pertaining to the Russian-Ukrainian border.Representations and explanations of incompatibility are examined in all threecontexts. Even though the last section is particularly empirically focused, therest of the analysis has empirical implications: the understanding of eachother as incompatible affects both the ambiguity of the reality in question

Boundaries of Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration ● 189and the particularities of Russia-EU studies as field of research. The argumentin this chapter is important for concepts of choice, understood as a setof interrelated options pertaining to problems of understanding and critiquein research. These choices need not to be taken in isolation or, worse, takenfor granted. It is in this sense that the ideas of reflexivity and the “plurality oftruth” are probed in this chapter (Ojanen 1998). 6Conflict and IncompatibilityThe problem of conflict is central to international studies and the socialsciences in general. Yet, more often than not, the problem of conflict appearsnot as a subject of enquiry per se but as an expected point of reference thatserves the normative needs of research. Should the normative prescriptionsbe put into practice, the reasoning goes, conflict would be alleviated if notdisappear altogether.While approaches to conflict may vary through theoretical disciplines, 7there is little debate in international studies about the overall nature ofconflict. Realists and liberals (in their neo consensual guise) see conflictin rationalist terms as a condition of an incompatibility of the involvedparties’ positions. The underlining sources of incompatibility may vary and,depending on one’s point of view, can be defined in terms of clashing interestsor actors’ (mis)perceptions. Ensuing policies or strategies can be foundincompatible and therefore lead to conflict escalation. The rise of constructivismas the third major paradigm in International Relations theory hasonly reinforced this consensual understanding of conflict as an outcome ofincompatibility. Whereas realists would hold as a starting point the incompatibilityof “positions of power” (Waltz 1979), constructivists would regardconflict as nested in incompatible identities or enmity as an identity. Conflictitself is framed as a process of discursively communicating positions.To paraphrase Wendt, conflict, just like anarchy, “is what states make of it”(Wendt 1992, 391–425; 1999).Seen in this light, the conventional strategy to understand conflict iscircular: if conflict is determined by a specific communicative process, incompatiblesubject positions are only reinforced in the same process, thus causingeven larger conflict. In other words, a researcher is expected to discover the“contours” of incompatibility in order to understand conflict. Interestingly,the term that is taken as the centerpiece in these theoretical frameworks—“incompatibility”—is frequently understood as a mere starting point in theanalysis of various “how” and “why” questions regarding the constructionof conflict positions. Thus incompatibility is treated as a necessary given,a sort of ontological gravity point for research. Rarely, if ever, do analysts

190 ● Vadim Kononenkoask whether the social situations under scrutiny themselves should be treatedas conflict or as anything but conflict. Indeed, starting one’s analysis byquestioning its very ontological underpinnings (that is, reflecting on whetherin a given situation a conflict exists) is potentially hazardous for the studyas a whole: the conflict must be explored—often with the use of “relevant”theoretical frameworks—but must not be questioned as such.The “uncontestedness,” or unquestioned acceptance of incompatibility,is even more important as the term itself remains the central if not the soleconceptual benchmark with which observers normally gauge conflict. 8 Thisis evident particularly in the field of policy analysis, which portrays itself asfocused on “practice” and therefore detached from arcane questions of epistemologyand theoretical validity. Rather, the purpose of “policy-relevant”scholarship is to “be useful” to practitioners, whatever this category includes(Nincic and Lepgold 2000). In this respect, the goal of research is seen asworking out a set of practical recommendations as to how to resolve or preventa certain conflict.The overall goals of attaining practical value and making research relevantto concrete needs and policy objectives might lead research somewhataway from generalization to an examination of concrete occurrences ofconflict. As a consequence, exploration into a conflict is conducted within apredefined problem field that perpetuates the assumption that conflict orconflict potential exists prior to the investigation. In other words, the moveaway from theorizing to practical policy analysis does not solve the problemof understanding the relationship between posited incompatibility and theensuing conflict. For example, most conflict studies make the assumptionthat incompatibility leads to a conflict. However, a closer look at researchpractice reveals that the reverse takes place: a researcher attempts to understandsomething that is already defined as a conflict by applying differentvariations of “incompatibility.” These understandings of incompatibility—assumptions about the cause and nature of conflict—are directly related tothe “policy recommendations” that are normally a part of policy research.There is thus a corresponding link between the rationalization of the objectof research and the conclusions or answers at which the researcher claimsto have arrived. This may become a real constraint to critical investigation.In this respect, despite presenting themselves as strictly empirical, suchresearch methods might lead to surprisingly “unempirical” results, reminiscentof connecting the dots, inasmuch as both the dots and causal connectionsare deliberately adjoined and may have little to do with the actual problemof research.Incompatibility, therefore, is not a category of conflict per se, or somethingthat is perceived as conflict, as much as it is a category of analysis. Logically,

Boundaries of Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration ● 191the understanding of a conflict should include an analysis of the understandingsof conflict, that is, the analysis of standpoints and explanations as well asresearch strategies that are not only related to the conflict but also shape theways the conflict is comprehended (as conflict). Undoubtedly, incompatibleconflict positions can be perceived or constructed by the parties involved,but they also can be construed in the process of knowledge construction,theory building, and most importantly, making critiques of extant analysis onthe subject.Incompatibility and What Theories Make of ItThe problem of starting one’s research with the assumption that agents onthe empirical level are constrained by the impasse of incompatibility canbe explained—among other factors—by the subject of analysis. It happensfrequently that a researcher may feel pressured to accept some of the assumptionsthat were given previously by other scholars. In many instances, suchas in the case of long-standing international or domestic conflict, the initialontological choice of defining something as conflict often appears to havebeen made primarily by the parties to the conflict but also by “underlying”analytical factors that cause conflict. Beliefs and assumptions about certainthings are often structural elements of the social reality under scrutiny, andin this way they may seem to escape a scholar’s critical gaze. 9That said, not all of the crucial choices are made by a researcher or priorto him starting his own work. On the contrary, there is a general idea thatresearch should be critical and reflective about the meanings and assumptionsmade regarding its subject, or that the assumptions actually constitute,to a degree, the subject of the research, and this evokes even more challengingdilemmas. There is the choice of whether to focus on examining socialreality as opposed to various representations, theoretical interpretations, andscholarly discourses about it, or whether to embrace the social action underscrutiny in toto, attaining the understanding of the social action in question“from within” (Hollis and Smith 1991). Related to that, there is the choicethat is the most difficult of them all, namely the one between the view thatthere are many interpretations of conflict (and explanations of incompatibility)and the extreme pluralist view that there are as many conflicts asthere are representations. 10As compelling as they might be, these challenging questions nonethelessget probed, if not fully resolved, in the course of actual research. Clearly, theoriesplay an important role in the research process (e.g., as track switchesfrom one explanation to another or as a “conceptual toolkit” for analysis).One should bear in mind, however, that the utility of theories to enable

192 ● Vadim Kononenkounderstanding might be undermined by the lack of consensus betweenapproaches. Instead of enabling understanding, theories obscure it by givingpartial answers, casting light and shadow on reality according to theirinternal agendas and interests. On the other hand, theories can also beproblematic in giving too parsimonious representations of the realities inquestion, translating social action into the language of a certain theoreticalparadigm (Ojanen 1998, 347–51). There is thus the possibility of compatibilityand incommensurability between paradigms of intertheoretical conflictand dialogue. It is therefore instructive to examine the conceptual underpinningsof the problem at hand. In this respect, the effects of theory need to beconsidered, since the interpretations of incompatibility and ensuing conflictmay originate from theoretical considerations. Understandings of conflict, toa degree, can be seen as the outcome of theorizing rather than an element inan external causal relationship that can be empirically observed.In the following section, there is an analysis of some aspects of researchpractices that are pertinent to producing conceptions of incompatibility andconflict in Russia-EU studies. The analysis shows how particular assumptionsabout incompatibility crystallize from an initial ambiguity of realityto sharply delineated binary oppositions. I argue that factors leading to thiscrystallization of views include, among others, the normative considerationsof research, the intentions of critique, and the conceptual “borrowing”between disciplines and different strands of theorizing.The Ambiguity of BoundariesAs is often noted, most of the literature on borders has developed on themargins of several different social science disciplines, including politicalgeography, anthropology, political science, and international relations. Yet,despite this apparent marginality, there are several obvious issues of concernto both the subfield of border studies and the discipline of international relations.The most obvious point of convergence is the firm and long-standingfocus on the state. The preoccupation with the state, both empirical andtheoretical, on the part of most international relations and border studies’theorists has lead to an interesting symbiosis in which claims about the stateand borders are mutually reinforced in both subfields. One can see this inthe naturalization of the state as the primary actor in international politics,and borders as the primary institution of the state-based internationalsystem. Second, both disciplines work with a narrowly defined understandingof “space”—the locus of the political being embodied in the principleof sovereignty—as politically bounded territory. As Agnew puts it, “themerging of the state with a clearly bounded territory is the geographical

Boundaries of Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration ● 193essence of the field of international relations” (Agnew 1994). This is reflectedin how international borders are regarded as either boundaries of exclusion(the realist view) or zones and frontiers of integration (the liberal view). 11Finally, a common platform between the disciplines can be found in thatthey all are somewhat preoccupied with conflict in international politics.Finding ways to diminish conflict is one of the commitments of IR as a discipline.While this normative concern with conflict is understandable, it affectsperceptions of how research should be conducted. 12A Tentative Consensus: Boundaries, Sovereign States,and International SystemsJohn Prescott’s classical study of political boundaries is a good starting pointfor a discussion of how borders are regarded in international relations. In hisPolitical Frontiers and Boundaries, Prescott is very explicit about the origins ofpolitical boundaries when he states that “there is no excuse for geographerswho use the terms ‘frontier’ and ‘boundary’ as synonyms” (Prescott 1978). 13For Prescott, frontiers are zones, whereas boundaries are lines. The rootsof boundaries are then linked to the origins of the state: frontiers becomereplaced by boundaries in the process of state building. 14 Characteristically,sovereignty is formulated in Weberian terms as ability of the state to reignsupreme over certain territory and establish an effective border as a line ofdivision and instrument of domestic order. In subsequent chapters, Prescottpresents his view on how boundaries should be negotiated by national governmentsand then placed on maps and territory in order to minimize the riskof conflict (Prescott 1978, 63). Although Prescott tries to avoid generalization,he nonetheless gives a few remarks as to the cause and nature of borderconflicts. These reveal his general assumptions and meanings of internationalpolitics. For Prescott, the emergence of a conflict is determined by (a) theaim of a government of one country to seek additional territory and (b) bythe fact that the boundary between the two states is incomplete. For instance,according to Prescott, the dispute between China and the Soviet Union overthe island of Damansky in 1969 was caused by the ambiguous boundarydefinition of the 1861 treaty, which failed to specify the course of the boundaryin the vicinity of the island (Prescott 1978, 94). Seen in this light, bordersare legal instruments of the states to bind their otherwise immanent interestto expand.Prescott’s classical work is a median in the spectrum of views on bordersas the outer limits of state sovereignty. It proposes the idea that borders areindispensable instruments in preventing conflicts that otherwise might eruptonce sovereignty over certain territory becomes an issue of contest. However,

194 ● Vadim Kononenkothis view of borders is ambivalent both in terms of the distinction between“frontier zones” and “border lines” (which is very different to find in practice)and in the way that borders are simultaneously understood as institutionsto prevent conflict and a source of potential conflict. It is in fact verydifficult to foresee when borders trigger a conflict and when they temperit. In international studies, this inherent ambiguity of boundaries has beendisaggregated into two positions.The first view can be summarized as “good fences make good neighbors.”Borders need to be policed, secured, and defended. They themselves providesecurity for states and their populations in the world of anarchy, “state rivalry,zero-sum manifestations of state competition for power, lebensraum, or animagined historical identity” (Simmons 2004, 3). This view is often describedas closely associated with the realist school of international relations. 15Also worth noting is the collaboration of realist thought and the so-called“classical geopolitics” represented by such writers as Mackinder, Haushofer,and Mahan. 16 Central to the idea is that borders literally mark the areaswhere power and interests of two or several states overlap, thereby causingtensions and possible conflicts.The second view starts where the realists leave off, but instead of a contestbetween states, it stresses their interdependence. In such a reading, theimportance of boundaries is as undisputable as the first view. Yet, in contrastto positing borders as fences or springboards for expansion, the interdependenceschool argues that borders increasingly have a role as interfaces of cooperationand trade. Furthermore, as regime theorists would claim, cooperationacross borders provides “mutual benefits” for states and diminishes sharplythe probability of conflict. Critics of the realist take on borders argue thattheir view is restricted to military-political aspects only. As Malcolm Andersonpoints out, borders are institutions and should be assessed as any othersocial institutions (Anderson 1996). In this regard, the scope of functionspertaining to national borders needs to be expanded to include not only thedefensive functions but also the facilitation of trade and exchange.On a closer look, then, there is not much disagreement between the twoviews. Both contend with the idea that borders are desirable, constitutivenorms of international and domestic order. One could easily see how thisconception of borders fits into the overall theoretical framework of bothstandpoints. In emphasizing different aspects of international relations—thesecurity dilemma on one hand and economic interdependence on the other—realists and liberals effectively use the image of a “state border.” Importantly,it should be noted that in their turn, these two views of borders are based onparticular understandings of the state. It is not any border that these theories

Boundaries of Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration ● 195are interested in, but only those related to a specific, idealized version of theterritorial state.It is instructive to examine this seemingly unexpected conformity in internationalstudies in more detail. Some scholars argue that the link should beseen in the context of a metanarrative about the state that has been commonlyheld as a given across all of the social sciences and international relations(Sahlins 1991). The metanarrative under question is one about modernity asan era of territorial sovereign states and the time locus of present social andpolitical life (Blaney and Inayatullah 2000). Inasmuch as this highly persuasivesystem of meaning has been appropriated by border studies, one couldsee it as implicit in the analytical distinction drawn between “frontiers” and“boundaries.” The border/frontier distinction was noted before in Prescott’sand many others’ work, but it is worth following up. Frederick Jackson Turner’sThe Frontier in American History sets the tone as to how the modern stateshould be regarded as an organic entity that evolves across time and spacefrom a “frontier state” into a “border state” (Turner 1920). For Americans,this process simultaneously involved a transformation from a colony into asovereign democracy. Likewise, in the European tradition, frontiers are attributedto empires, whereas borders are seen as befitting modern nation-states(Sahlin 1991). As Agnew points out, this static ontology can be seen as partof the process whereby borders are perpetually reinstated (Agnew 2007, 6).In essence, the root of political boundaries is seen in the modern territorialstate, in line with the centrality of the concept in Western political thought.In international relations studies, this state-centrism has for a long time beentreated as a necessary given, not only from the point of view of research, butalso as an ontological condition. 17 Thus it is not surprising that a paradigmthat subscribes to the “Westphalian” interpretation of international politicssimultaneously takes on the vision of borders as compulsory institutions thatdo separate or connect sovereign states, but more importantly uphold theexistence of the international system of states. This is another (and for thisstudy, the most important) effect of the inherent ambiguity of the concept ofinternational borders. Contrary to expectations, realists and liberals are notmaking incompatible claims about the role of borders. Instead, what comesto the fore is a sort of deep-seated consensus about borders as fundamentalbuilding blocks of the contemporary international order, “a standard of conductbehind which all sovereign states can rally” (Jackson 2002, 87–106). Toan extent, one could see this consensual understanding of borders as “buildingblocks” of international order as a standard of conduct around which allmainstream theories could unite.

196 ● Vadim KononenkoIncompatibility as a Practice of Making Critique:Sovereignty and Integration as Incompatible LogicsIt was argued in the section above that incompatibility can be seen as aninherent part of intertheoretical exchange. We have also observed that incompatibilityor mutual exclusiveness in views and values can be exaggerated inorder to highlight the relevance of one theoretical approach over another inexplaining reality. Incompatibility can also emerge as an unintended effectof development within a theoretical discipline that strives for parsimoniousexplanations. However, as the example of liberal and realist conceptions ofboundaries shows, it is not impossible for two opposing positions of thoughtto actually agree on some principles or ways of thinking. In the latter case,these consensual principles represented the ontology of the internationalsystem (territorial sovereign states). In this consensual ontology, interstateboundaries were regarded as desirable if not the only elements of its constructionand perseverance.In contrast to this deep-seated consensus is the equally recurrent incompatibilityof two mainstream logics in international relations theorizingidentified here as sovereignty and integration. The incompatibility betweensovereign and integrationist logics is relevant for our task in two respects.First, it empirically and theoretically involves borders and territoriality in thecore discussion in international relations. Second, it reveals just how crucialthis incompatibility is for the practice of making critique.This hypothesized incompatibility of sovereignty and integration can beseen as a result of “splitting” in international relations theories (and the socialsciences in general), a process where construing two sides as “opposite anddistinct tendencies” means to represent them as the only plausible alternatives.In Benjamin’s words, this is “a polarization in which opposites can nolonger be integrated; in which one side is devalued, the other idealized” (Benjamin1988, quoted in Blaney and Inayatullah, 2000, 45). In contemporaryIR, this “splitting” underlies the core of the debate between globalists andpluralists. The former put forward the ideal of integration associated withglobalization, liberal universal values, and economic interdependence, whilethe latter emphasized the benefits of sovereignty and the independence of thestate within its borders, as well as the possible dangers of global unificationand homogenization. However, it is important to note that this theoretical“splitting” can also be seen as an outcome of the critique of both globalistand pluralist positions. In this sense, the incompatibility of pluralist andglobalist views provides an opening for criticism of those conventions towhich the two views cling together and that no longer hold sway if one wantsto look beyond their binary opposing logic. Indeed, behind the critique of

Boundaries of Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration ● 197splitting lies a deep discontent with any idea of the clear-cut distinctions inIR between internal and external realms of politics and subsequently withthe two variants of sovereignty (Agnew 2005). It can further be argued thatthe reconstitution of binary oppositions and their immediate problematizationis a necessary step in taking our theoretical debate to another level,even a prerequisite for some sort of progress in science. This, however, raisesonce again the problem of choice, namely a choice of direction after the“incompatibility” of views has been criticized.Revisiting Ambiguity and IncompatibilityAt first, it is only fair to acknowledge the value of criticizing the Westphalianconsensus. Indeed, with the rise of dissidents questioning assumptions aboutthe desirability of the internal/external division in IR, the concept of politicalboundaries has been returned to its inherent ambiguity. Such authors asAgnew, O’Thuathail, Paasi, O’Loughlin, and many others have pointed outmultiple discrepancies in the conventional understanding of national bordersas unproblematic demarcations of sovereign territorial statehood. Furthermore,the binary opposition of sovereignty and integration gets blurredwhen one takes into account the sea change of the international environmentfollowing the end of the Cold War. The European Union provides evidenceof a new situation where the external borders of member states are managedeffectively through supranational agreements and policies but in whichthe EU’s external borders are patchy and represent frontiers rather than theusual lines. The experience of EU member states contrasts profoundly withthe models elaborated by political geographers like Prescott and picked upby IR theorists in which the sovereignty of the state would be effectivelyhalved between internal and external realms. But the EU example is notalone. Russia and the other republics of the Soviet Union, particularly in theearly years after 1991, provide rich evidence that the linear narrative of statebuilding underlying the “frontier-border” model is too straightforward whenit comes to complex processes of recreating political space after the collapseof a state. 18This statement should be qualified. As much as this radical criticism helpsto recognize the complexities of boundary making and the related ambiguityof sovereignty and integration, it may lead to an incompatibility of itsown. As van Houtum notes, most of the studies that seek to understandthe relationship among territory, sovereignty, and identity, using the lens ofborders, are antideterministic, antiessentialist, and “not focused on the lineper se.” 19 In other words, what started as a powerful critique of a consensualhegemonic discourse has developed into yet another consensual position. 20

198 ● Vadim KononenkoAll this can be frustrating if one takes the notion of “progress” in science asa linear motion from one theoretical debate through criticism to another,arguably one better suited to categorization of the constantly changing andovertly ambiguous subject of research. Instead, the development appears tobe circular and contradictory.To sum up, this incompatibility of views and logics can be seen as partof intellectual practices of explaining ambiguous reality and more precisely,practices of criticism. This chapter has shown how the use of certain“incompatibility devices” contributes to the splitting of ambiguous conceptssuch as “sovereignty,” “state,” or “boundary” into binary oppositions andconflicting dichotomies. Yet, as was also shown with the example of thepoststructuralist critique of the Westphalian narrative, the deconstruction ofintertheoretical binaries does not warrant absolute “freedom of opinion”;this move often implies circularity and the tendency to merely restate theincompatibility of its own position with the one it criticizes. In other words,deconstruction comes with a price tag in a sense that a consensual understandingmight be shattered into pieces in order to be rearranged in yetanother version of reality.Understanding Russia-EU Interaction:Searching for Incompatibility?In Russia-EU studies, one can be struck by a strong presence of the idea andpractice of incompatibility. In many analyses, the starting point for describingthe relationship between Russia and the EU is precisely one that statesthat their positions are somehow incompatible. There could be differentexplanations for this “incompatibility,” but the fact of its recurrence suggeststhat it is deemed to be fairly unproblematic, a seemingly secure position forintroducing one’s view of how the relationship between Russia and Europe isdeveloping and will evolve in the future. Almost invariably, this is defined innegative terms as a sign of conflict between Russia and the EU. Noting oneinstance of incompatibility—the view that Russia and Europe are detachedfrom one another politically, economically, and culturally—Mark Webberrightly points out that “there is an inherent tendency toward friction andcompetition” (Webber 2000, 2). On the other hand, a depiction of Russiaand the EU as being increasingly interdependent (for example, on the issuesof energy or Eurasian external security) explicitly hinges on the possibilityof conflict (Lynch 2005).When reading accounts of Russia-EU interaction, it is important toexamine not only what is considered incompatible but also why incompatibilityis presented in the first place and what role it served for the analysis

Boundaries of Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration ● 199in general. Two interrelated aspects need to be followed up particularly carefully:first, the link between incompatibility and the normative underpinningsof research and second, the relationship with other critical approaches.It is hardly possible here to trace all of the representations of incompatibilityand conflict between Russia and the EU in extant research. Therefore,this chapter examines only issues related to the borders of Russia and theEU, thematically linking the empirical section to the conceptual discussionon borders.The Elephant and the Bear on a Collision Course?Most analysts of Russia and the EU define their mutual incompatibilityas stemming from diverging trajectories of development. It may not be anoverstatement to say that there is a sort of a “grand narrative” on Russia-EUrelations, one that encompasses the institutional aspects of Russia’s relationshipwith the EU and extends into the much broader controversiesand ambiguities of Russia’s interaction with “Europe.” 21 In this broad andpowerful system of assumptions, the dynamics of Russia’s relations withEurope are defined solely in terms of divergence or convergence: Like twogalaxies, Russia and Europe are invariably bound to orbit on mutuallydiverging or converging paths (Malia 2000). Incompatibility is thus madeto serve the role of both the starting point and the reason for initiating theirstudy—probing into the causes of incompatibility would arguably make itpossible to understand the intricate geometry of the galaxies’ orbits, perhapseven preparing for the moment of the next eclipse. Clearly, in practice, thisneat picture is contrasted by a multitude of ambiguous events and controversialconsequences. Still, in trying to make sense of vagueness, even themost practice-oriented policy research falls back on implicit theorizing, thustaking up some of the conceptual pitfalls discussed above. Related to theconvergence/divergence model is the tendency of Russia-EU studies to leanon concepts that are represented as binary oppositions in other disciplinesof international studies. For example, there are such conventional binaryconcepts as “geopolitics and integration,” “sovereignty and integration,” or“postmodern and modern state.” There is an ongoing process of borrowingfrom different strands of theorizing in international studies, a process thatoften goes unnoticed even though it has direct implications to how researchersperceive Russia and the EU.One such concept that has been incorporated into Russia-EU studies isthat of the Westphalian state. The concept of a territorial state with linearborders and with a clear distinction between “external” and “internal”dimensions of sovereignty is regarded as a metaphor, and simultaneously

200 ● Vadim Kononenkoit is a benchmark against which to measure the degree of incompatibilitybetween Russia and the EU. In his work on the subject, Michael Emersondescribes “the pivotal concept [a]s that of the ‘modern’ Westphalian state.”Indeed, “this is one Europe’s bequests to the world, but one beyond which itis now moving” (Emerson et al. 2001, 7–9). In this model, the Westphalianstate is a gradient, and Russia and the EU are located on different ends: Russiabeing closer to the modern gradient (or going back to premodernity onsuch issues like social development and infrastructure), the EU evolving intoa postmodern entity. The related idea is one of delineating political space: asthe “postmodern” EU advances toward Russia’s “modern sovereign” space,the two are on a potential collision course. The presupposition of a possibleconflict is illustrated by Russia’s sensitivity about the EU’s rapid encroachmentinto Russia’s “near abroad,” a trend that has been implicitly visible inthe accession of the Baltic States but that has now become an explicit sourceof tension as the EU has developed special relations with Ukraine, Moldova,and Georgia in the framework of its European Neighborhood policy. Russia’ssensitivity over its borders (both state borders and the more ambiguouslyand loosely delineated contours of the near abroad) is regarded as a sort of“modernity syndrome,” a painstaking process of becoming a modern stateafter decades of Soviet deferral.This “cross-pressure” view has led some authors to develop the modelof the EU and Russia as two empires (Waever 1997; Aalto 2006; Emerson2001). In fact, the image of the Westphalian state is hardly applicable toeither: Russia has never been a nation-state in the Western sense, and the“stateness” of the EU might be a far-fetched argument. In this respect,the outer limits of Russia and the EU represent “imperial frontiers” ratherthan lines. Central to the cross-pressure view is the assumption that whateverfrontiers or linear borders exist, the conflict is bound to happen when thepressure reaches a dangerous degree. Clearly, this perspective can be seen asanother variation on the theme of incompatibility. This is because the twoempires are not seen as equivalent. The order that the EU is promoting inits neighborhood is based on different values from those that Moscow triesto maintain. If the EU is an empire, it is a benign one that possesses positivemagnetic power, strictly contrasting with the kind of power that Moscowwants to project in the region. This view has come to the fore particularly inthe context of energy security and the “gas spats” among Russia, its neighbors,and the EU in 2005–6. Again, what is notable in these disputes is theincompatibility between the dynamic, blurred, and outward-looking frontiersof the EU and Russia’s own outer lines, seen as defensive barriers against theexpanding EU. To an extent, this imperial analogy in Russia-EU relations canbe linked to the self-image of Europe as a postmodern liberal empire found

Boundaries of Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration ● 201in the writing of Robert Cooper, for example (Cooper 2002). Understoodthus, the enlarging frontiers of European integration represent theidea of progress and Europeanization, central to the future of the EU itself(Rehn 2006).Critical Voices—But Still Clinging to Incompatibility?Critical voices are emerging that stress the importance of reflection in Russia-EUstudies, particularly with regard to the lack of theoretical accountabilityfor various representations of conflict in the field. 22 As Prozorovpoints out, “rather than explaining the descent and development of conflictbetween the two parties, the existing interpretations are frequentlythemselves complicit in the articulation of conflict discourses and thusfunction more in the modality of the explanandum rather than the explanans”(Prozorov 2006, 11). In what is probably the most profound critiqueof existing approaches in Russia-EU studies to date, Prozorov identifies twomajor intellectual positions delineating the field—transitionalist and traditionalist.23 Both approaches, in Prozorov’s words, function “in tandem”and are based on a narrow presupposition: if not transition, then tradition.Since both ends of this binary equation represent mirror images of Russiaand the EU—narrowly defined in terms of the “Self-Other” relation—theconflict is determined by the very structure of this theoretical dichotomy.Prozorov offers an alternative model for interpreting and understandingconflict between Russia and the EU based on actual conflicting discourse.At first glance, Prozorov’s model appears to be essentially attractive andreflexive as a basis for further research since it presents itself as an apparentbreak with the tenacious binary discourse of mainstream Russia-EU studies.As it is focused on the process of interaction as such with all incumbent“facticity,” it promises the possibility of endless interpretation and analysis ofthe ongoing process of interaction. More precisely, this approach allows forthe recognition of Russia and the EU not as opposing poles (on a scale ofdivergence/convergence) but as dynamic and flexible subjects that deployvarious integrationist and sovereign responses and impulses.Nevertheless, the gap between the interpretative model elaborated byProzorov and other approaches might not be so wide. Common to all is thepreoccupation with conflict. Notwithstanding the earnest intent of a bottom-uppractice-based type of analysis, the overall goal to interpret conflict inRussia-EU relations can be seen as a real epistemological presupposition anda working interpretative framework. In effect, it can lead to generalizationand bias similar to that produced by “traditionalist” approaches that focuson the ideas of “continuity” or “transition,” driven by the idea of “progress.”

202 ● Vadim KononenkoIn fact, whereas “mainstream” approaches ground the cause of conflict inassumptions about Russia’s primordial difference and failure to adopt to theEU’s integrationist policies, Prozorov locates conflict within a broad discourseof integration itself, which is driven by the intent to work out a normativeideal for a community and a desire to transfer this ideal beyond the limitsof this community.Curiously, the image of political boundaries in Prozorov’s profound critiqueof integration is also drawn from a state-centered discourse, but as thereverse image of the cross-pressure view described above. He links the drawingof borders to the idea of preserving plurality in the face of homogenization(represented by the mondialist view). Borders are necessary in a world wherethe overlap of frontiers becomes the prevalent mode of interaction. All inall, as far as the employment of borders is concerned, there can hardly be aconcept more befitting the story of the Russian-EU relations than one withsuch a rich “philosophy of bordering and othering” 24Overcoming Incompatibility—But on What Terms?Incompatibility as such has a certain negative value in analysis: it is a disturbingsituation that has to be explained and possibly improved. Its causalrelationship with conflict is notable but understandable, as a large part ofinternational studies and the social sciences in general regard conflict insimilar terms. This attitude, which can be more or less explicit in differentaccounts, suggests that there exist certain normative motivations to retainthe notion of incompatibility at the center of analysis. This is not to say thatnormative considerations necessarily undermine research or are somehowwrong, as they might be implicitly present in any social science analysis. It israther to say that they should not be overlooked.The particularities of normative views in Russia-EU studies vary, eventhough they are almost unanimously attached in one way or another to theconvergence/divergence model. It is evident that an equal number of authorsdo not see full compatibility as either realistic or a desirable option. Absolutecompatibility is regarded as a utopian, utterly unattainable, and irrationalconception (Prozorov 2006). Although there are differing views as to howdifferences understood as incompatible could be practically overcome, theywere developed on different conceptions of incompatibility in the first place.Since incompatibility is seen in binary terms, this difference boils down toa choice as to which side of the equation gets the lion’s share of the blamefor a lack of progress in Russia-EU relations. Neither Russia nor the EU iscast directly as the cause of conflict—in most contemporary research, theblame is attached to institutions or even personalities. Very often it is certain

Boundaries of Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration ● 203intellectual paradigms or “logics” that are made to take the guilt of producingconflict, as the debate on sovereignty and integration illustrates. On theother hand, it is worth bearing in mind that as much as these paradigms arerelated to concrete policy practices, they transfer a part of the criticism withwhich they are associated onto the agents. In this sense, it becomes almostimpossible for a researcher to avoid falling into the trap of taking a side inthis tough binary contest of concepts, paradigms, and ultimately the “maincharacters”—Russia and the European Union.All in all, the dynamics of these normative considerations show how thenotion of incompatibility as a concept with which to describe Russia-EUrelations is deeply associated with the overall aim of understanding thisrelationship. Embarking on the quest to decipher incompatibility at anycost, research habitually recreates this binary opposition, thereby overlookingor leaving out important aspects that might be equally important. Onthe other hand, the problematic outcome of such a method might not bethat the resulting picture is somehow incomplete or distorted: rather, theend image might turn out to be too clear, reminiscent of an overdevelopednegative. Instead of myriad shades of gray, the picture shows only twocontrasting colors.To sum up, the persistence of the perception of incompatibility does notfade away with criticism, even though black-and-white binary representationsof reality are usually easy prey for empirical criticism. An examinationof normative considerations reveals that the tendency to regard Russia andthe EU in terms of incompatible logics is resilient and perhaps even strongerthan the initial intention of a researcher to rethink critically the conceptualunderpinning of the respective disciplinary discourse. On the other hand, thereliance on the notion of incompatibility might even increase with the criticaleagerness of a researcher: a desire to revisit consensual assumptions mightlead to a particularly radical departure (in its own right, somewhat detachedfrom other approaches) from the fuzzy and dynamic reality at hand.Back to Ambiguity: The Russia-Ukraine Border and the EUIt would be misleading, however, to explain that such a long-standing romancewith the notion of incompatibility in Russia-EU studies is determined byparticularities of research practices only. Obviously in some instances, bothRussia and the EU employ policies or rhetoric that may seem incompatibleor even conflict prone. Curiously, the development of Russia-EU studiesfrom the early 1990s is interlinked with the actual course of development inRussia-EU relations. The eventual departure from the “Common EuropeanHome” discourse of the early 1990s and the instatement of the “strategic

204 ● Vadim Kononenkopartnership” with a more protected variant of Russian sovereignty has beenfollowed up by investigations of the concepts of sovereignty, identity, andsubjectivity. 25 Here we are again reminded of the importance of tracing dialoguesbetween different but related processes of knowledge construction.While the first two sections of this chapter looked at the relationship betweenRussia-EU studies and international studies in general, this last section looksat the intricacies of making a case study and the challenges that might comefrom the empirical ground.The question that a researcher faces when examining assumptions ofincompatibility and even conflict (e.g., as a discursive “act of grievance”) isabout precisely how to tackle them, as a source of evidence for a familiarframe of reference or a stepping stone into a completely new problem field?When a Russian official declares that Russia strives to make its western borderthe “bridge of friendship and cooperation,” similar to how a Brusselsofficial would present the EU’s neighborhood policy, should it be interpretedas a sign of possible convergence or divergence in disguise, incompatibilitywrapped up in the clout of diplomatic parlance? In tackling these questionsit is worth keeping in mind that any interpretation of Russia-EU relations asincompatible is just one version of reality, and it could and should be assessedaccordingly. Only when binary oppositions acquire the authority of hegemonicdiscourse does the issue of reflexivity become particularly pertinent.That said, reflexivity should not only concern “internal” aspects of researchsuch as the attitude to existing research or methodological concerns but alsothe “external” relationship that is the subject of study itself. The case of theRussian-Ukrainian border can be used to delineate two practical aspectsof dealing with the ambiguity at hand: the ambiguity of policies and thatof discourse. Both aspects need to be taken into account when constructing,deconstructing, or reflecting on the assumptions of incompatibility inRussia-EU studies.The Ambiguity of (Policy) ChoicesResearchers usually address the question of incompatibility by referring tothe choices facing the subjects of analysis. 26 Often the criteria of a choice arenot clear—it is a matter of interpretation as to whether and what “choice”actual policies correspond to or whether this choice has actually been madeor deferred.A good example of such an ambiguity can be drawn from the Russian-Ukrainian border. The processes of “border making” (e.g., the border andcustoms control, cross-border cooperation, and policing) are normallyperceived as “low politics,” technical, and very practical policy areas. On

Boundaries of Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration ● 205the other hand, these processes are distinctively centered on the notions ofinclusion and exclusion, which constitute a “distinctly sovereign regime”:arguably, “sovereignty” is not an abstract notion but a very concrete policypractice employed everyday. 27 Moreover, it is a policy area that touches uponwider political problems. For example, in the words of an expert, “Ukrainecannot keep both of its borders open simultaneously. Ukraine has to make achoice between Poland and Russia.” This means that Ukraine has to “choose”a solid direction for its integration policy with the EU, as opposed to keepingequally good relations with both the EU and Russia (Baronin 2001,quoted in Zhurzhenko 2005, 14). According to this reasoning, if Ukrainewishes to be taken seriously as a prospective candidate for membership, itshould facilitate its pro-EU commitment by strengthening its eastern borderwith Russia. Likewise, the EU is often referred to as facing a particularchoice regarding its outer border with Ukraine, notably one between a softand permeable interface of integration (flexible visa regimes, advanced crossbordercooperation projects, support of regional initiative) and well-policedborders of the “fortress Europe” type.Many commentators have criticized this Janus-like approach of the EUas a somewhat hypocritical and unproductive process of balancing betweeninclusion and exclusion vis-à-vis its new members. 28 Yet, assuming that this“choice” is somewhat metaphorical, one can still pose the question of whois supposed to make it and whether the two possibilities that constitute thechoice are actual alternatives one can intentionally choose between.In fact, the reasons for this dualism and its discrepancies can be understoodas stemming from EU member states concerned with both their security needsand their internal interests. Grabbe points out that there are two sets of viewsheld by different policy makers (the representatives of the interior ministersand ministries for foreign affairs) in the EU. The representatives of interiorministries press for extending EU policies to the applicants’ eastern bordersto ensure that third-country nationals cannot travel through these countriesto the EU. On the other hand, their counterparts in the EU foreign ministriesare concerned with the promotion of good relations with their neighborsand thus stress freedom of movement (Grabbe 2000, 524). In this respect,making a firm step toward one option—for example, the “relaxation” of borderpolicies—might run into difficulties in accommodating the interests ofa large part of the political elite in the member states. On the other hand,as Guild notes, the objectives of firm external control expressed by memberstates’ interior ministers will enter into conflict with the softening of theborder for neighbors. If the authorities of the neighborhood are persuadedto take repressive measures against their own nationals who seek to travel inthe EU on the basis of the common fight against illegal migration (part of

206 ● Vadim Kononenkothe ENP), then the interests of neighboring citizens may diverge not onlyfrom those of EU citizens but also from the action of their own authorities(Guild 2005). This observation goes to show that there is a more complexinterlink between policy action, actual or hypothetical, and its effect thanconveyed by a simple view of “choice.” If one disaggregates these choices intothe particular interests and agendas of respective agents, then it not easy todiscern what alternative would be more plausible than othera.Ukraine is a case in point as far as the actual complexity of policy choiceis concerned. In light of the change of leadership in the course of the OrangeRevolution, Ukraine’s pro-Europe orientation has been seen as a departurefrom the previous course of President Kuchma. 29 Since ascending to power,President Yushchenko has stressed the “new foreign policy” of Ukraine thatlooks forward to full integration with the EU while simultaneously realizing“great strategic interests” concerning Russia (Yushchenko 2005). Itsambivalence to the EU is usually explained by differing attitudes to institutions,which are presumed to originate in the differences between regions.Further cooperation with the EU may require a toughening of controlover Ukraine’s border with Russia, thus restricting contact between thepopulation on both sides of the border. This has political repercussions,particularly in Eastern Ukraine.Clearly, Ukraine’s border regions have an obvious stake in developingrelations with Russia. 30 Their apprehension about the government’s plans tostrengthen the border regime as part of Ukraine’s integration with the EU isunderstandable. On the other hand, an observation that often crops up in thedebate about Ukraine is that the “regional” imbalance of interests is beneficialfor regions themselves. The regional divide between the east and west (or therest) of Ukraine is a political issue that was played on by the political partiesin both the Orange Revolution and the parliamentary crisis of spring 2006(Wilson 2005). The discourse of pro-Western Kiev and the pro-Russian easternregions is even more visible at the regional level. For example, the arrivalof the president’s appointee as head of the Kharkiv region administration,Arsen Avakov, was greatly disapproved of by the Kharkiv Regional Council,dominated by the Party of Regions. 31 In June 2006 the conflict went so faras to the impeachment of Avakov by the Regional Council. The motion forimpeachment was allegedly based on the accusation that as the head of theregion’s government, Avakov disregarded the obvious economic interests ofthe Kharkiv region with neighboring regions in Russia. At this level, one isable to see the dualism of local politics, Kharkiv being presented as balancingbetween taking into account the interests and policies of Kiev and its ownregional initiatives as regards (for instance) the neighboring Belgorod Oblastin Russia. In another sector of Ukraine’s Russian border, Lugansk, similar

Boundaries of Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration ● 207apprehensions of regional leaders have been reported, this time regarding thepolicies of the government to strengthen the border regime with Russia. 32Of course, neither the EU nor Ukraine is somehow unique in the ambiguityof policy choice. For Russia, the “choice” is even wider and concernsseveral different contexts: bilateral relations with Ukraine (and other neighborsin the CIS), relations with the EU, and just as important the domesticinterplay of relations between the center and the regions. Given this complexityof Russia’s situation, it is difficult to construct the choice for thecountry as one based on binary oppositions of Europeanization integrationor sovereignty. In fact, the opposite might be the case: since the number ofoptions and alternatives is very wide and itself contradictory, actors mightopt for a continuing ambiguity instead of making a definite choice.On the other hand, the presentation of this choice is “natural” when oneconsiders the length of their existence in the discourse. It could be argued thatthe binary oppositions that mark the policy dilemmas of the actors involvedshould not be seen as static and linear, even though the actors that put theseclaims forward often legitimize them as “traditional” or “long-standing”dilemmas that require long-term strategies and genuine commitment. Inthis respect, two things should be taken into account. First, the claims thatpolicy dilemmas are “traditional” or “historical” should not be taken as if theactual meaning and content does not change over time. Second, the persistentduality of policy claims and the preponderance of binary oppositionsthat necessitate a certain choice might not mean that the choice was actuallymade or that this entailed wholehearted endorsement of one view andthe abandoning of another: decisions are made on an everyday basis, but towhat degree do they reflect broader dilemmas? One should therefore distinguishbetween rhetorical “choices” and those “crossroads” presented on paperand ensuing decisions made in practice. Undoubtedly, policy argumentationand policy decisions are interrelated, but tracing the link in practice is anempirical problem.Ambiguity of DiscourseWhile the ambiguity of policy choices can seem confusing, the ambiguityof discourse can be overwhelming. Still, it is in discourse that there is mostof the building material from which the representations of policy choices andincompatibilities are construed in the actual research process. Two aspectsshould be noted as regards the issue of reflexivity outlined throughout thechapter. First, there is an ongoing interplay within the field of research,one in which researchers and the agents that are subject of research areequally involved. Inasmuch as policy analysis research and the policy world

208 ● Vadim Kononenkoare interlinked discursive fields, meanings and assumptions may circulatebetween these two spaces. That means that the issue of incompatibility frequentlyevoked in policy discourse (both in the EU and Russia) has probablybecome ingrained with the conceptions of incompatibility that are sowidespread in Russia-EU studies. Likewise, the concepts of sovereignty andintegration are widely political per se but have become particularly politicizedin Russia-EU relations. As early as 1996, the leader of the Russian Communists,Gennady Zyuganov, spoke about the “incompatibility of the Westernbourgeois civilization and the Russian civilization” (quoted in Patomäki andPursiainen 1998, 32). In the same vein, strong themes in favor of preservingsovereignty-based diversity in the face of the threat of Western-centricglobalization can be traced as far back as the Eurasianists, themselves an offspringof the debate between zapadniki and Slavophiles (Pursiainen 1998;Neumann 1996). Many elements of this discourse are still in existence todayin the concept of “sovereign democracy” evident in the political program of“United Russia.” These examples go to show just how fine the line is betweenacademic and policy discursive fields.Second, it is worth bearing in mind that the public sphere in Russia—aswell as in the EU—is densely populated with images, narratives, and scriptsof all kinds. In this way, analysts as much as other social agents produce constantlynew discursive “literary artifacts” according to the rules of genre andstyle (Burke 1992, 126). It is also timely to recall the words of Hayden White,who observes that historians organize their accounts around recurrent plotsor mythoi (White 1974). One is certainly able to find such plots and storiesin abundance in the field of Russia-EU studies. The idea of reflection is thusnot to dispel these stories as mere myths or literary conventions (opposed totexts worthy of the name of “scientific analysis”) but to reveal the plurality ofthis respective discursive field.Conclusions: Welcoming Conflict?Central to this chapter was the argument that the assumptions of conflict andincompatibility in Russia-EU interaction reflect both the ambiguity of realityand a certain lack of self-reflexivity in this field of studies. It is true to say that“incompatibility” and “conflict” are not more ambivalent terms to describeand understand social reality than others (for example, “progress” or “continuity”).Yet, it does matter what role these concepts play in the actual processof research. Inasmuch as the reality under scrutiny is inherently ambiguous,those who wish to understand and explain it face a difficult dilemma. Onthe one hand, understanding—making sense—of reality normally calls forabstract theoretical constructions to serve as benchmarks, however vague they

Boundaries of Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration ● 209might be. Furthermore, the process of understanding involves taking actionon the part of the researcher: it is difficult to comprehend reality withoutmaking an effort to formulate another version of it. Taken together, these twoaspects represent the initial challenge in research—one that affects the choiceof what gets to be accepted and what revisited.This challenge comes to the fore in two aspects of the research process:the role and practice of critique and the role of concepts. As far as practicesof critique are concerned, they often lead to “splitting”—the emergence ofbinary viewpoints representing opposing claims as background to introducea third viewpoint. The latter might lead to a subsequent round of criticismoften resulting in the construction of another dichotomy. The key here is theuse of concepts that are self-contradictory and paradoxical, such as politicalboundaries and the associated views on sovereignty and integration. Nicoland Minghi nail down the problem by asking, “If there is a continuing relevancefor traditional approaches, how can these approaches be recast tofit the new conceptual approaches? Can they hope to incorporate both thetheoretical, discursive and pluralising accounts into a more powerful bodyof work; work which authorises and legitimises the study of borders both assites unique to national territorialism impulses as well as framing referents forthe more general process of mediation between local and global impulses?”(Nicol and Mighi 2005, 683).In this respect, a similar question can be addressed to approaches that lookat EU-Russia interaction. This analysis hopefully showed that the notion ofa border is not a coherent instrument, that sovereignty is not a clear conceptfor those agents normally viewed as unitary actors who face certain metapoliticalchoices or are at different stages of development (therefore possessingincompatible identities or interests vis-à-vis each other). The ways that analysesof Russia-EU relations (not to mention a large part of the IR literaturein general) have been informed by the Westphalian consensus have directimplications as to how the EU’s and Russia’s boundaries are regarded alongthe axis of “imperial frontiers,” “linear borders,” and “barriers” or “bridges.”Moreover, this is the conceptual lens that is often used to probe into theempirical question of whether Russia and the EU could “coexist” in their“common neighborhood.” The border is then regarded as a “testing ground”that is supposed to provide evidence for theories regarding the plausibility ofRussia-EU interaction in their “near abroad.” The evidence that this chapterbrings to this debate does not prove the validity of either argument. Rather,this analysis of the making of the Russia-Ukraine border shows that Russia,Ukraine, and the EU are now inseparable from this constellation andhave a complex set of interests, visions, and policies toward their commonboundaries. These shifting positions may or may not “objectively” point to

210 ● Vadim Kononenkoa conflict; in fact, it is this ambiguity itself that makes it possible to think ofa future conflict or, on the contrary, cooperation.This chapter also argued that often it was the framework of interpretingdiscourse, be it a theoretical discussion or policy debate, that has ledto the endorsement of certain assumptions and conclusions concerningthe nature of Russia-EU interaction. Borders and border policies are understoodagainst the images of zones of interaction or sealed walls. As far asRussia-EU interaction is concerned, it is often understood in dichotomousand allegedly incompatible terms of cooperation or conflict, interaction orintegration, interdependence or self-exclusion. In practice, these dichotomouspairs are rarely the case. One can see them as rhetorical tools that point tocertain choices that need to be made, either in terms of choosing a relevanttheory or an appropriate policy action. However, the conventional wisdomthat there is always more than one possibility does not necessarily pointto the existence of one central view, one likeliest scenario: if the startingpoint was to suggest the intersection of two options, why should it then benarrowed down to just one of those offered? Instead of trimming the options,research can progress toward deepening the analysis and widening of therange of possibilities. 1In light of this, the notion of conflict can paradoxically be seen as havinga positive function in terms of giving an impetus for development to theresearch field. Conflict needs not to be seen as something to overcome ormitigate. On the contrary, the absence of conflict would signify a certainstagnation of the field of research in general. Therefore, one is able to welcomeconflict, hoping that it will produce more alternative and self-reflectiveunderstandings of Russia, the EU, and their interaction.Notes1. Lozhinin 2003.2. A Secure Europe in a better world. EU Security Strategy 2003.3. See a good example in the piece of commentary entitled “Russia and the EUenergydialogue or energy conflict?” available at http://www.euractiv.com/en/energy/russia-eu-energy-dialogue-energy-conflict/article-156246.4. For another take on reflexivity, see Saari’s contribution in this book.5. The author wishes to acknowledge that the argumentation of this chapter isgreatly inspired by Ojanen’s analysis.6. In international relations, for instance, the problem of conflict—commonlyexplored at the level of interaction between states—is the grease on the wheel ofthe recurring debates between the two central positions of thought: realist andliberal. Realists emphasize the intrinsic character of conflict as stemming from

Boundaries of Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration ● 211the absence of a governing authority in the anarchic international system andthe preponderance of states to maximize their power on the international arena.The liberals or idealists claim that even though relations between states are oftenconflict-prone, the likelihood of conflict can be tempered through cooperativeinstruments such as regimes of interdependence, mutually binding agreements,and international institutions.7. Conflict analysis includes a great deal of taxonomy that, once again, revolvesaround the concept of incompatibility. For instance, Rittberger, Efinger,and Zurn distinguish between differences of opinion, irreconcilable claims,and incompatible positions of difference. It is emphasized that of the three types,only incompatible positions qualify as conflict, which is itself disaggregatedinto the categories of “latent” and “manifest,” depending on whether actors“pursue incompatible goals” or perceive each other’s goals as mutually incompatible(Rittberger, Efinger, and Zurn 1989).8. A great deal of sociology of science literature discusses this very issue. Tostart with, one could consult two seminal works by Foucault (1979) andDerrida (1976).9. For a discussion on that, see Searle 1997; Walt 1998.10. For realists, territory is a source of conflict, whereas liberals tend to regard itin terms of facilitating cooperation between states, for example, by taking intoaccount the factor of geographical proximity (Goertz and Diehl 1992).11. A similar argument is made about the preoccupation of integration studies withthe idea of progress (Ojanen 1998). More generally, see Prozorov 2006.12. One might also consult Prescott’s earlier work of 1965 (Prescott 1965).13. To some extent, one could sum up the distinction as an argument that frontiersare typical for early states or nonstate entities such as tribal communities,whereas boundaries are the only institutes befitting of modern states (Prescott1978, 78).14. Evidence that this view on borders is well in line with realist thinking can befound in the writings by Morgenthau, a political realist par excellence (Morgenthau1962).15. For a good discussion on geopolitics as part of the realist agenda, see Haslam2002.16. Blaney and Inayatullah call this condition “the Westphalian deferral,” meaningthat the principle of state sovereignty only defers the problem of difference anddiversity of states, making them formally similar “actors” of world politics, butit does not solve the problem of difference nor make it less topical. (Blaney andInayatullah 2000).17. Related to that is the fact that a decade after the Soviet collapse, the formerSoviet republics, excluding the Baltic states, have relatively relaxed and fussy“internal” borders within the CIS and much stricter delineated “external”borders which once were part of the Soviet Union’s Iron Curtain.18. According to van Houtum, “borders are now predominantly critically investigatedas differentiators of socially constructed mindscapes and meaning. The

212 ● Vadim Kononenkoreturn to geopolitics in the guise of critical geopolitics is telling in this respect”(Houtum 2005).19. Houtum calls it a “bordering script,” “a template largely based on the works ofpost-structuralists like Foucault, Derrida and De Certeu, that is used in studyingthe everyday social construction of border X in case Y” (Houtum 2005, 667).20. In this narrative, “Europe” has many names. As Ortmann puts it, “a metaphoricalimagined space where boundaries are drawn by adherence to the universalvalues to democracy and human rights, and at the same time as a necessarilylimited geographical space which is identifies as the true origin of these values”(Ortmann 2006). See also Malia 2000.21. One can perhaps tentatively call it the “interpretative school” in Russia-EUstudies. For example, see Prozorov 2004; Morosov 2003; Makarychev 2006.22. In Prozorov’s convoluted writing, “The traditionalist discourse constructs a corpusof ‘tradition,’ ‘mentality’ or ‘culture’ and reifies these conceptual abstractionsby assigning them an empirical function of attenuating change, discontinuityand disruption in the domain of practice. The transitionalist discourse operateswith a concept of change whose direction is teleologically predetermined by theliberal doctrine to the extent that the event of change vanishes in a monotonousand continuous advance, whereby the rich facticity of contingent practices iscast in terms of mere deviation to be remedied either through Russia’s progressin domestic reforms or the elimination of institutional obstacles to communication”(Prozorov 2005, 16).23. van Houtum (2005), quoted in Agnew (2007). One could, of course, point atanother equally ambiguous and politicised concept, namely “identity.” Theseissues are dealt in more detail in Ortmann and Kononenko (forthcoming).24. Partly this is evident in the wide proliferation of discourse analysis and identityas a method and an explanatory variable in Russia-EU studies.25. For example, this chapter has been prepared in the framework of a research programentitled “Russia’s European Choice: With or Into the EU.” But, of course,the EU is referred to in similar terms as facing a choice between enlargement andinternal reform (deep or wide integration); other states (e.g., Ukraine, Turkey,or Belarus) are referred to as making or failing to make an important politicalchoice as regards EU, Russia, or democracy and sovereignty.26. As Pratt puts it, such practices lie “at the intersection of sovereignty and governmentality”(Pratt 2005).27. See, for example, Groenendijk; Guild; Minderhoud 2003. In a study of the EU’sENP and its effect on border management, Elspeth Guild examines the EuropeanCommission’s strategy to attain the stated objective of “free movement.”Guild identifies eight steps that the EU envisions to take as regards its objective,which include long-stay visa policies, an efficient and friendly system for smallborder traffic, assisting neighboring countries’ efforts to combat illegal migrationand return policies; and readmission agreements with all the neighbors asa crucial element in joint efforts to curb illegal migration. For Guild, almostall measures are mutually contradictory and even self-exclusive. For example,

Boundaries of Sovereignty, Frontiers of Integration ● 213the elements that involve the creation of the free market between the EU andthe neighboring states may conflict with economic and trade relations betweenthe neighboring countries and their neighbors outside of the EU. One couldexplain this inconsistence by the problems with EU’s internal political workings:the political bargaining between the Council, Commission, and individualmember states.28. Recent commentary, however, stresses the continuity of Ukraine’s policy of closeassociation with Europe (Moshes 2004).29. See trade statistics between Ukraine’s and Russia’s regions, available at the Website of the Association of Heads of Administration of Cross-Border Regions:http://www.cross-border.org.ua.30. Author’s interviews with local policymakers in Kharkiv in June 2006.31. Lugansk nedovolen novoj granizej s Rossijei (Luhansk shows discontent asregards the new border with Russia), Korrespondent: http://www.korrespondent.net/main/153904.32. Such is the view that seems to be emerging in the field of political geography, inparticular in the subfield that looks at borders. John Agnew puts it nicely: “Wemust be more open to being theoretically and empirically surprised by what theworld throws up. But we can only be surprised, and then act appropriately, ifcollectively we stand open to it” (Agnew 2006).

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CHAPTER 8The Stalemate inEU-Russia RelationsBetween “Sovereignty” and “Europeanization” *Sergei MedvedevA plague o’ both your houses!—Mercutio; HamletThe Problem: A Troubled RelationshipIn terms of Russia’s relations with Europe and the “near abroad,” 2006 wasa year of trade wars. In early January at the height of an unusually coldwinter, a “gas war” between Russia and Ukraine led to a shortage of gassupplies for customers in both Eastern and Western Europe. Later, EU-Russiarelations were complicated by further disputes, from Russia’s unwillingness toratify the European Energy Charter to the EU’s concern over Russia’s ban onwine imports from Georgia and Moldova. In November 2006, an EU-Russiasummit in Helsinki failed to open talks on the new Partnership and CooperationAgreement (PCA) due to a Polish veto in protest of the Russian banon the import of Polish meat. On top of all things, Russia threatened to banall food imports from the EU on January 1, 2007, because of the unsettledphytosanitary issues with new EU member states Bulgaria and Romania.In a sense, there is always some plat du jour, a trade dispute on the menuof EU-Russia relations, from the “gas war” to “meat wars.” These issuesmay seem purely technical, yet in fact many of them can be easily resolved.* This chapter is based on research carried out by the author at the Finnish Institute of InternationalAffairs in the framework of the project on “Russia’s European Choice” in 2005–6.See Medvedev 2006.

216 ● Sergei MedvedevStill, they reveal a larger problem of EU-Russia relations—mistrust, mutualfrustration, and broadly speaking, an institutional stalemate producingpermanent outbreaks of contention. As grimly observed by Alexander Rahr,“the basis for the EU-Russia partnership is as narrow as it has ever been”(Rahr 2004).Stalemate may be the most appropriate definition of the present qualityof EU-Russia relations. In a different sense, EU-Russia relations can be characterizedby a word from the late Brezhnev era, zastoi. Literally this means“stagnation,” or “muddling through.” In the 1970s and early 1980s, the crisisaffecting the ailing USSR was disguised by high oil prices and by the inflow ofpetrodollars, as well as the immense symbolic economy of the Soviet system:pompous party congresses and May Day parades, exaggerated five-year plans,and triumphant reports. By the same token, the current state of EU-Russiarelations is disguised by massive East-West hydrocarbon flows (as articulatedby the latest Russian impact on “energy security”) and by impressive symbolicactivity, including heady summits, strategies, road maps, and ritual invocationof a “strategic partnership.”These oil and gas flows and symbolic diplomacy conceal a troubled relationship.The agenda is overburdened with permanent bureaucratic squabblingover technical issues such as Russian steel quotas, royalties (from Europeancarriers) for flights over Siberia, the Kaliningrad transit problem, and Russia’sconcerns over Schengen visa policy. Moreover, increased EU demandfor Russian oil and gas has become a source of permanent tension, with theEU looking for guarantees of supply (e.g., by securing safe and cheap energytransit through the Russian territory and enforcing the Energy Charter) andRussia looking for guarantees of demand (e.g., by trying to buy a stake inEuropean distribution chains, “the last mile” to the European customer).Broadly speaking, it is not just the past year, but the entire “noughties”that have been a period of disillusionment in EU-Russia relations. WithPutin’s coming to power—and the rise (or rather, the return) of a semiauthoritarianbureaucratic state in Russia—the EU is increasingly disappointedby the prospects for the “Europeanization” of Russia. For Russia, too, the EUlooks much less attractive than in the 1990s: “an over-bureaucratized formation,pursuing socialist economic policies that stifle economic growth,” in thewords of Dmitry Trenin (Trenin 2006, 370–71).This mutual frustration is all the more striking, considering the fact thatthe EU and Russia are vitally interdependent of their external and domesticsecurity and humanitarian issues and because the EU accounts for over50 percent of Russia’s external trade as well as most of the FDI (ForeignDirect Investment) in Russia. The paradox of the situation is that the closerthe EU and Russia get to each other territorially or economically, the

The Stalemate in EU-Russia Relations ● 217more problematic their relationship becomes, so that interdependence andcontiguity turn into a source of permanent frustration.Yet another paradox is that on paper the relationship looks just fine. Therehas never been a shortage of framework documents in EU-Russia relations,from the Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA), which was signedin 1994 and came into effect in 1997, to various strategies (including theEU’s Common Strategy on Russia adopted in 1999 and Russia’s reciprocalMid-Term Strategy for Relations with the EU). 1 However, the proclaimed“strategic partnership” has not been supported by the clear mechanisms ofimplementation, timelines, benchmarks, and criteria, which, by contrast,characterize EU relations with European applicant countries. Without theprospect of Russian membership into the EU, the entire corpus of EU-Russian paperwork remains largely a declaration of intent, an instrument ofpolicy avoidance rather than clear guidelines.In this sense, the recent failure of the EU-Russia summit in Helsinki toopen negotiations on the new PCA (coming into force following the expiry ofthe current PCA in December 2007) does not seem to create a legal vacuum.At present, both sides seem content with the idea of renewing the currentagreement (according to Article 106, this can be done infinitely until bothsides decide to replace the agreement) without embarking on the laboriousprocess of renegotiating and pursuing an almost improbable ratification ofthe new framework document. As observed by Timofei Bordachev,The format of political and legal relations between Russia and the EU doesnot essentially influence the development of real integration wherever there ismutual interest. Many countries that have much closer and effective ties withthe EU than Russia do not seek to formalise their commitments by ratifyingthem in parliament and making them a part of national law. One of thesecountries is the United States, which has a visa-free regime and a huge tradeturnover with the European Union: Yet, it makes do with general politicaldeclarations accompanied by a package of bilateral agreements and bindingworking plans on specific issues. (Bordachev 2006, 55).The same is true of the most recent addition to the EU-Russian body oftexts, the four Road Maps, corresponding to the Four Common Spaces: theCommon Economic Space; the Common Space of Freedom, Security, andJustice; the Common Space of External Security; and the Common Spaceof Research, Education, and Culture. Adopted at the EU-Russia summit inSt. Petersburg in May 2005, the Road Maps present some four hundredbulleted action points, mainly phrased in the language of “cooperation” and“dialogue” but vague on implementation mechanisms. Lacking strategic

218 ● Sergei Medvedevguidance, policy instruments, or even precise definitions, Michael Emersonhas called the Common Spaces “the proliferation of the fuzzy” in EU-Russianrelations (Emerson 2005, 3). To this effect, Emerson quotes French philosopherPaul Thibaud writing on the EU Constitutional Treaty on the eve ofthe French referendum: “The constitutional treaty . . . turns its back on history,which it seems, was just a painful experience, and remains indefinitelyextensible for its geography and its competences. The proliferation of thefuzzy is a manner of being for the European Union, and something whichthe Constitution . . . did not want to end” (Thibaud 2005).By the same token, Andrei Makarychev has described the language of theCommon Spaces as “the EU discursive strategy of uncertainty” that leavesas much room as possible for different interpretations of basic concepts thatform the background of EU-Russian relations (Makarychev 2005a, 31).Similarly, an oft-cited report by the Moscow-based Council for Foreign andDefense Policies criticized the Common Spaces for being merely a transitorystage in EU-Russian relations that reflected a lack of vision on both sides(Karaganov 2005, 1.4.2–1.4.4).Indeed, there is a lack of strategic perspective on the future of EU-Russianrelations in both Brussels and Moscow. Neither side can articulate the longtermgoals of their relationship, or the common values, norms, and intereststhat underlie the “strategic partnership.” Most notably, by the mid-2000s,official Russian policy regarding the EU has been reduced to the flat statementthat “Russia does not seek membership of the European Union.” Itis obvious that such a negative pronouncement cannot inform a strategicagenda (Karaganov 2005, 1.2.2).The Discourse: Sovereignty and EuropeanizationThe failure to formulate the long-term goals of the bilateral relationship isnot just the result of a lack of political will. There is an objective logic atwork, namely a difference in the EU and Russian domestic discourses relatingto sovereignty.The fundamental difference is that strategic thinking in Moscow is deeplyembedded in Westphalian notions of sovereignty. The comeback and consolidationof the nation-state has been and continues to be the key issue onthe agenda of both Putin’s presidential terms. The visions of a “sovereigndemocracy” and “nationalization of the future” have been made public by theKremlin’s chief ideologist, Vladislav Surkov (Surkov 2006a, 2006b). As DerekAverre has put it, “The current drive to strengthen state power, accepted bythe majority of Russian political elites as necessary both as an instrument fornational reconstruction and as a corrective to the disorder of the Yeltsin years,

The Stalemate in EU-Russia Relations ● 219produces neither the internal stimulus to reform nor the external point ofreference which would allow multifaceted engagement with Europe, especiallyin the context of a changing international system and developing notions ofsovereignty” (Averre 2005, 175).From the “sovereignty” point of view, Russia has not quite figured outhow to deal with a new sort of political animal, the European Union. The EUis a difficult counterpart, described alternately a “unique, not to say strange,political actor, with divided and clashing institutions, unclear sovereignty, aweak sense of common interest and few institutions in the political arena yetable to achieve its declared ends” (Lynch 2003, 78), and as “a bureaucraticbody almost without political leadership” (Makarychev 2005b, 5). From thisperspective, it is not clear to Russia where political power in Europe lies:is it in the national capitals, the council, or the commission? Russian decision-makersare sometimes compelled to repeat the frustrated remark HenryKissinger used to make back in the 1970s: “If Europe has a foreign policy, Iwish someone would tell me its phone number!” Quite often, Russia resortsto tried and tested bilateralism, only to find out that bilateral agreements(e.g., Gazprom’s deals with European governments) run into EU regulations,and Russia faces a much less cooperative EU Commission.The missing sense of direction in Russia’s relations with the EU alsoreflects a wider feeling of ambiguity about the future of the European projectfollowing the failure of the EU Constitutional Treaty in the Dutch andFrench referenda in 2005. The EU is currently at a crossroads, facing a choicebetween a federalist future, represented by the Constitutional Treaty, and amore minimalist kind of integration, a “Common Market Plus.” Alternatively,the choice is between wider integration, with the eventual membershipof Ukraine and probably Turkey, and stopping at the current stage ofenlargement, including Bulgaria and Romania. This ambiguity about thefuture format of the EU adds to Russia’s strategic indecision with respect tothe EU.The EU, too, lacks a long-term strategic vision for its relations with Russia.For EU policy makers, the basic structural impediment is that Russia doesnot have a so-called “vocation for membership,” and they have difficultiesin dealing with their enormous nonacceding neighbor. After half a centuryof successful integration and adaptation to the outside world, the EU is stillessentially an integrationist machine. At its core is a set of bureaucratic rules,procedures, and institutions aimed at transforming nations and spaces to auniversal standard. However, as Michael Emerson has observed, the EU doesnot have a well-defined model for exporting these laws, norms, and values“beyond suggesting weak and fuzzy derivatives of the enlargement process,while it cannot afford to overextend the real enlargement process for vital,

220 ● Sergei Medvedeveven existential reasons” (Emerson 2005, 4). Once it appears that a nationcannot integrate, the technocratic integrationist mentality fails to producea strategic outlook and a coherent policy. The EU operational mode istherefore best described as technocratic and bureaucratic, rather than politicaland strategic.The technocratic integrationist logic of the EU largely explains the“intrusive” nature of the EU’s policy toward Russia that so often irritatesthe Russian side. In an apparent desire to shape Russia in its own image, theEU projects its values, norms, and regulations (but also fosters its materialinterests), expecting Russia to comply with the EU-defined code of conduct.In short, this is an extension of the EU’s internal logic—the EU acted thesame way with respect to Slovakia or Estonia—but without the added benefitof EU membership.The extrapolation of the EU’s internal logic is evident throughout thedocuments intended to govern its relations with Russia, such as the PCA,the Common Strategy on Russia, the European Neighborhood Policy(which Russia does not want to be covered by), and Road Maps for theEU-Russian Common Spaces. All these documents have been written usingEU bureaucratic language. Starting from the original PCA, prepared duringthe early 1990s when Russia was seen as a “nation in transit” in needof advice, assistance, and mentorship, these documents are all based on apurely EU conception of how its neighborhood relations should be organized.According to Emerson, the long text of the PCA was a watered-downderivative of the Europe Agreements signed with the newly independentCentral and East European countries that were seeking accession to theEU: Russia was then one of the new boys in the class of post-communiststates (Emerson 2006). By the same token, the European NeighborhoodPolicy “is itself a weak and fuzzy derivative of the EU’s enlargement process.This neighbourhood policy is embracing the same comprehensive agendaof the EU’s internal policy competences and political values, but withoutthe mega-incentive of accession. The four common spaces [between Russiaand the EU-Sergei Medvedev] are now a weaker and fuzzier still derivative ofthe neighbourhood policy” (Emerson 2005, 3). 2The entire set of EU policies and instruments intended to govern the EU’srelations with its external environment can be summarized under the headingof Europeanization. By this term, the Brussels-based Center for EuropeanPolicy Studies means the “transformation of national politics and policymaking in line with modern European values and standards” through• legal and institutional obligations flowing from the norms and rules ofthe EU and the Council of Europe;

The Stalemate in EU-Russia Relations ● 221• objective changes in economic structures and the interests of individualsas a result of integration;• subjective changes in beliefs, expectations, and identity (CEPS 2005).Europeanization is a traditional Eurocentric discourse that falls in linewith the historical constructions of Westernness (positing Western values andpractices as universal and nonnegotiable, with a civilizing mission incumbenton the West) and Easternness (positing the East as barbarian, devoidof morality and rule of law, a space to be converted and transformed) (Lehti1999, 22). According to Jutta Weldes, something of a compulsion is entailedwithin the Western cultural frame that sees the West as having the “right,”even the “obligation,” to intervene in the social development of others and to“assist” them in finding the true Western path to social justice and prosperity.Armed with such an “obligation,” the West is therefore seen to have every justificationto insist on the reproduction of its values and institutions elsewhere(Weldes 1999, 131). In this context, Slavoj Zizek speaks of the “Eurocentricprocedure of imposing its own hegemony by means of the exclusionary discursivestrategy of devaluating the Other” (Zizek 2000, 231).For all its postmodern imagery and the “rejection of power” (Kagan 2002),the European Union is a direct descendant of the Western missionary tradition(Larsen 2000). Looking at the very origins of the EU, one finds Westernnotions of democratic peace theory—the idea that liberal democracies donot go to war with each other. The EU was constructed in order to reconcileFrance and Germany, the two nations that stood at the origins of threeEuropean wars in a span of seventy years (1870–1939). This “peace mission”has been central to subsequent enlargements of the EU and provides a rationalefor the further extension of EU borders and the dissemination of liberaldemocratic values across its external frontiers (Browning 2003, 45). To quoteformer EU Commission president Romano Prodi, “Europe needs to projectits model of society into the wider world. We are not simply here to defendour own interests: We have a unique historic experience to offer. The experienceof liberating people from poverty, war, oppression and intolerance. Wehave forged a model of development and continental integration based onthe principles of democracy, freedom and solidarity and it is a model thatworks” (Prodi 2000).In this respect, Christopher Browning describes Europeanization as “developing”outsiders up to “our standards” and entails a representation of othersas somehow devoid or lacking in moral fiber, irrespective of empirical reality.This is further inscribed by the fact that membership in the EU requires thatapplicant states be vetted against established criteria of democracy, the ruleof law, human rights, economic structures, and so forth, in order to assess

222 ● Sergei Medvedevtheir “fitness” as potential members (Christriansen and Joennimi 1999, 90).Failure to live up to these standards, in turn, represents a failure to achieveequal subjectivity with EU members and condemns one to remain excluded(Browning 2003, 57). This is precisely what happened to the EU’s image ofRussia as soon as it had become clear that it no longer fits the ideal “European”normative model and moved toward a semiauthoritarian bureaucraticstate. Disillusionment in the Europeanization of Russia has led to its subsequentmarginalization and isolation in EU discourses and practices.In response to the EU discursive offensive, Russia has come up with theidea of “exceptionality.” As put by Gleb Pavlovsky, “The state entity with itscenters located in Strasbourg and Brussels is not a hotbed for those living inKiev or Moscow, even if they think of themselves as Europeans” (Pavlovsky2004, 4). However, even if this discursive defense succeeds, portraying Russiaas an “exception,” a “special case” argument leads to the implicit acceptance ofEuropeanization as the hegemonic “norm.” In this model, the “exceptional”Russia will be tolerated rather than accepted in its otherness.The Challenge: Global Risk ManagementFor all their obvious differences, Russia’s recent impact on the notions ofsovereignty and Europeanization have one thing in common: They are twodifferent reactions to the forces of globalization, two different ways to managethe ambiguity and global risks that have emerged in the noughties. Inshort, the current stage of globalization puts to test the key parameters ofmodern politics: sovereignty, stateness, and bureaucracy, while the EU andRussia are coming up with their respective responses.Indeed, globalization is Janus-faced: At first sight it appears to be aforce for unification, integration, and standardization. It is heralded by theuniversal spread of free markets and information networks, accompaniedby a specifically American face of Western culture (“Coca-Colonization”)and legitimized by the acceptance of democracy and human rights asuniversal values. One obvious political corollary of globalization is “desovereignization”and the decline of the nation-state as the basic unit ofinternational relations.But there is the other face of globalization, including international terrorism,global criminal networks, and flows of illegal migrants that necessitate amobilization of the residual powers of nation-states. And finally, there are allsorts of identity movements that emerge by resisting globalization, and yet arethemselves invariably global: Chechen Separatists, Mexican Zapatistas, andAum Shinrikyo, just like the antiglobalists themselves, all go online, createglobal networks, and transcend state borders.

The Stalemate in EU-Russia Relations ● 223The name of the game is globalization versus adaptation (or outright resistance).This collision has been called different names by different authors:The Net and Self (Castells 2004), McWorld and Jihad (Barber 1996), and theLexus and the Olive Tree (Friedman 1999). Almost any trend toward unificationand integration is offset by the adaptation strategies of nation-states,indigenous cultures, groups and individuals, and the emergence of variousresistance identities:• Denationalization, desovereignization, and debordering are counterbalancedby renationalization, the nation-state’s reclamation of its inherentmonopoly on violence, security, and borders.• Integration (as manifested, for example, by EU enlargement) is counterbalancedby the forces of fragmentation (e.g., in the former Yugoslavia orin Georgia).• Global markets’ striving toward homogeneity and the universal applicabilityof neoliberal strategies is offset by the reemergence of the nation-stateas an anchor of identity and the focal point of cultural resistance toglobalization. There is also a clear drive toward greater protectionism andeven renationalization of strategic industries (“resource nationalism”), ashappened recently with the oil industry in Bolivia.• The Americanization of global culture is met with increasing anti-Americanism,in Europe, Russia, and the Third World.• The rise and fall of the “New Economy” is matched by the heavy weight ofthe Old Economy and its main commodity, oil, which is just as importanttoday as it was in the twentieth century. In all likelihood, the importanceof hydrocarbons for the economy will grow, even in developed countries,with the attendant global patterns of competition and dependence.• The rise of the “liberal imperialism” of the West (Cooper 2002) and thepromotion of the New World Order (as seen, for example in Kosovo,Afghanistan, and Iraq) is met with the increasing force of global terrorismand the threat of “Coming Anarchy” (Kaplan 2001), while regionalinstability emerges in Europe’s turbulent neighborhoods.In all these cases, the key variable, and point of contention, is the role ofthe nation-state: Is it being fragmented, diminished, and dissolved by theforces of globalization, marketization, and integration? Or is it being reinstatedand reinvented by the forces of resistance, localism, protectionism,and identity? What strategies of adaptation are available to the nation-state?Does it consolidate sovereignty, enhance stateness, and emphasize traditionalnationhood, or does it pool sovereignty with other nations, yield to supranationalgovernance, and develop new identities?

224 ● Sergei MedvedevThese questions strike at the heart of the current transformations of therelationship between the EU and Russia. The EU is going through a difficultperiod of coming to grips with the level of integration achieved by 2005,when the EU expanded to twenty-seven and stood on the verge of becominga quasi-federative state by adopting a Constitutional Treaty. Debatesabout the “Old Europe” versus the “New Europe”—the caricature imagesof the “Polish plumber” stealing jobs in the West, Ukraine’s emerging bidto join the EU, and especially the controversy around the idea of includingTurkey in the EU—have all overstretched and questioned the limits of theEuropean project.Meanwhile, the Islamic factor came to the fore with the heated debateabout headscarves (hijab) in French schools in 2004, race riots in major Europeancities in November 2005, and the imminent threat of Islamic terrorismin Europe following the Madrid and London bombings in 2004–5. Whatwas previously seen as an external challenge to Europe turned into a domesticsocial, security, and identity issue. With the image of a “clash of civilizations”brought back home, the Turkish bid for EU membership has become evenmore problematic.Against this background, Europeanization can be seen as the strategy ofglobal risk management. The EU wants to minimize the ambiguity of itsexternal environment (Ukraine, Russia, Turkey, North Africa, energy security)by extending its own bureaucratic norms and regulations. Under theguise of European values, the EU pursues a peculiar kind of bureaucraticimperialism that seeks to modify and partially control EU’s neighborhoodthrough various instruments like the European Neighborhood Policy (ENP),the Common Spaces, the Energy Charter, and so on. This is a rather oldfashionedstrategy of risk management aimed at controlling contingenciesrather than adapting to them.Russia, too, is going through a difficult period of adaptation to global risksthat is making it redefine sovereignty and government. During the revolutionary1990s, the Russian state retreated and shrunk to levels unseen sincethe civil war of 1918–21. At the same time, the country had opened itselfto globalization in an unprecedented manner. Ideas of joining the EU andNATO were given serious consideration in the early 1990s, while Russia’sregions were allowed, according to President Yeltsin, “to take as much sovereigntyas they could swallow.” At some points, the situation deteriorated intopure anarchy, as the state lost its monopoly on violence (e.g., in Chechnya in1996 to 1999) and became corrupted by the oligarchs. This was accompaniedby social atomization and ideological chaos, with traditional Russian ideasof statehood being marginalized by the ruling liberal ideology.

The Stalemate in EU-Russia Relations ● 225There was increasingly a quest for order and stability in the late 1990s,which eventually paved the way for the rise of Vladimir Putin. After becomingpresident on December 31, 1999, he headed Thermidor, a classic counterrevolutionaryact, heralding the return of the state. Both of Putin’s termsin office have been devoted to rebuilding the Russian state and to reclaiminglost ground from business elites, civil society, the press, and the West.The state is the key to understanding the Putin phenomenon. Initially,he treated the state as a means of modernizing Russia and for adapting itto globalization: for him, Russia’s national idea was “competitiveness.” AnalyzingPutin’s agenda back in 2000, Peter Rutland observed that his taskwas to adapt the Russian state to the challenges of the global environment: to“customise” global practices and requirements to suit Russian conditions. . . .All around the world, national leaders have been struggling to protect vulnerablesocial groups and preserve national cultures while adapting to the competitivepressures of the global market place. In the East, it led to the opening ofChina and sparked the “Asian values” debate. In the West, it caused liberals andsocialists to embrace free trade and fiscal conservatism. The “Putin enigma”can be understood as part of an arc of political transformation that stretchesfrom Mohammed Mohatir and Deng Xiaoping to Tony Blair and Bill Clinton.(Rutland 2000, 316)However, after the YUKOS affair in 2003, and especially after the terroristact in Beslan in 2004 that prompted a sweeping campaign for centralization,the state for Putin has become an end in itself, a means of preserving power,a self-propelled bureaucratic enterprise. While it is likely that the Putinregime (and probably himself personally) will stay in power after the 2007–8elections, the state will most likely remain the key player in determiningthe future of Russia in the medium term.Bringing the state back in and stressing sovereignty, Russia displays adifferent strategy of global risk management, a bureaucratic-conservativestrategy of centralization, aimed at minimizing or excluding external risks(e.g., prohibiting any involvement of the West with civil society in Russia,as seen in the infamous NGO law, or in limiting the access of Westerncompanies to key oil and gas deposits like Shtokman and Sakhalin-2).“Sovereignty” and “Europeanization” are two competing bureaucraticstrategies of managing globalization, one aimed at protecting internal order,and another aimed at projecting internal order. Russia is reinforcing domesticstateness as a conservative means of minimizing the ambiguity of global challenges,while the EU projects its domestic structures as a means to manageambiguity along its periphery. In fact, Russia and the EU have inverted the

226 ● Sergei Medvedevglobal roles they have played during the second half of the twentieth century,when the USSR sought to export its model and the EC was inward-oriented,refraining from any foreign policy initiative. These days, it is vice versa: Russia,for the first time in five hundred years, refrains from territorial ambitionsand concentrates on domestic issues (Medvedev 2004, 55–56), while it is theEU that turns into a revisionist player and seeks to remodel its neighborhood.Katinka Barysch has called this a “paradigm shift in the EU”: “Looking internallyfor the past 50 years, [it is] now turning outwards, seeks to define itsrole in the world and will see to have more influence on developments withinits immediate neighborhood (without, however, ‘internalizing’ that challengethrough further enlargement)” Barysch 2005).Both strategies of risk management are essentially modern, aimed ateliminating or minimizing ambiguity. (A truly postmodern strategy wouldhave been to integrate and internalize ambiguity in a pluralist way.) Themodern modus operandi is largely explained by the fact that both strategieshave bureaucracies at their core that seek to reproduce and reinforce theirinfluence by eliminating difference (Putin’s authoritarian project) or bytransforming difference according to one’s own model (the EU’s bureaucraticimperialism). Andrei Makarychev has observed the paradoxical symmetry ofpolitical logics in Moscow and in Brussels, quoting to this effect Jef Huysmans’sreasoning that the “most radical form of political articulation is . . .a desire to overcome all estrangement—that is, the fact that we have to livewith others who are not like us—either by eliminating or radically marginalizingthose who are different or by turning those who are different into thesame as us” (Huysmans 2006, 21). This is exactly what makes one perceiveEuropean and Russian policies as two poles of the same chain of politicaloptions, opposing each other but being subsumed to the same political logic(Makarychev 2006c).While it is commonplace to list Russia along with China and India as thekey global players that follow the political script of modernity, the EU, too,for all its alleged political postmodernism, is engaged in a typically modernpractice of othering and transforming the Other (or, at a minimum, toleratingthe Other), rather than accommodating and integrating difference.The Forecast: EU-Russian GridlockThe collision of two modernist bureaucratic projects is a key structuralimpediment in EU-Russia relations, and a background for all recent crises.Thus, the midterm forecast for EU-Russia relations is not particularlyoptimistic. Most likely, we are in for a protracted stalemate. The EU-Russiandialogue will be plagued by loose institutions, hollow summits, and a

The Stalemate in EU-Russia Relations ● 227bureaucratic tug-of-war. The rhetorical heading of this ambiguous policy settingwill be the Four Common Spaces with their nonobligatory Road Maps.Indeed, new policy documents may appear, like a renegotiated PCA after2007, but given the long tradition of noncommittal EU-Russia paperwork,they will hardly change much.The key problem will remain the systemic incompatibility between asemiauthoritarian Russia bent on “sovereignty” and “hard power,” and theEU integration machine, with its “bureaucratic imperialism,” which is structurallyincapable of accommodating a Russia disinclined to submit itself tointegrationist pressures. Unless significant changes occur in Russia’s internaland external policy, as well as in the EU’s approach to Russia, their relationshipwill remain stagnant and crisis-prone.On both sides, policy will lack consistency and cohesion and will be reactiverather than proactive. EU policy toward Russia will be decentralized,and competing visions of Russia will proliferate, from the traditional andpersonalized approaches of France, Germany, and Italy, to the historical mistrustof Russia on the part of new member states from Eastern Europe. As aresult, bilateral policies will come to the fore. A good example is the currentdisagreement within the EU concerning the Nord Stream (North EuropeanGas Pipeline), seen as favoring Germany and other nations of “old” Europe,while undermining the position of the East Europeans and the common EUstance vis-à-vis Russia.Russia, too, lacks a long-term vision of its relations with the EU and willpursue a reactive policy of damage limitation. Obsessed with the threat of“colored revolutions,” Moscow will warily watch, and try to counterbalance,EU policies in their joint neighborhood, considering the potential of Ukrainianand Moldovan membership as a threat to Russian national interests.Meanwhile, Moscow will be happy to explore the benefits of bilateralism,trying to exploit internal EU disputes and differences between Europe andthe United States (e.g., on Iraq).Of the areas of cooperation between Russia and the EU, some substancewill be left in the economic sphere—if only to solve issues arising fromRussian energy and raw materials exports, and food imports from the EU,though many of those will be increasingly covered in the WTO framework,to which Russia is preparing for accession. Humanitarian issues will be highon the agenda, although these will fade as they lack a solid institutionaland legal foundation. Meanwhile, questions of internal and external securitywill become increasingly contentious, with issues like visas, migration,readmission, and EU-Russian rivalry in the CIS coming to the fore. Thisrivalry will be all the more problematic, since Russia has excluded itself fromthe ENP, which is now seen as aimed against Russia, in an area perceived as

228 ● Sergei MedvedevRussia’s natural sphere of interest. In fact, many of Russia’s commentatorsview the ENP as an attempt by Brussels to erect a cordon sanitaire on itseastern border, further isolating Russia.Various types of EU “dimensionalism” (Northern Dimension, EasternDimension) and cross-border regionalism, especially in the peripheral BlackSea and Baltic and Nordic areas, might provide some compensation forthe decay in the relationship. However, given the current policy setting inMoscow and Brussels, neither of these projects will be given high priority,and different regional initiatives will remain in the same low-profile andunder-financed condition they have been in for a good part of the pastfifteen years.Time wise, the gridlock in EU-Russian relations will be long lasting, withno incentives, actors, or political will to break it. Domestic entanglements onboth sides will most probably prevent Moscow and Brussels from starting aserious dialogue on the future of their relationship any time soon. Russia willenter the 2007–8 election season, the prime goal of which will be the reproductionof the current corrupt regime, exhibiting an attendant authoritariandrift (“managed democracy”), great-power rhetoric, and rituals of enemyconstruction. The EU is likely to be seen as a challenger to Russian interests.Meanwhile, the EU will be too busy with domestic developments, accommodatingthe “Big Bang” enlargement with twelve new states (includingRomania and Bulgaria in 2007) and reconsidering the future of the EUConstitution following the failure of referenda in 2005. Given these conditionsof uncertainty, Russia will not be at the top of the EU’s priority list;rather, it will be viewed as yet another external threat, the impact of whichhas to be minimized.In other words, both sides, preoccupied with domestic developments,will see the other’s actions as threats: Russia will see the EU as an “orange”challenge to its internal undemocratic system, while the EU will see Russiaas a threat to its energy security, democracy promotion, and enlargementplans. This naturally leads to a policy of damage limitation on both sides.However, both sides also have to show tolerance and restraint. Moscowhas to be tolerated by Brussels for the sake of energy supplies (especially asthe North Sea deposits are almost exhausted, the Middle East is becomingincreasingly volatile, and Caspian reserves turn out to be overvalued) andglobal security (Weapons of Mass Destruction [WMD], terrorism). Brusselshas to be tolerated by Moscow for the sake of energy demand, issues of jointneighborhood, and in general, because Brussels is a gateway to the West.Mutual irritation and damage limitation, combined with forced tolerationand the need to avoid major crises, lead to the phenomenon of an “enforced

The Stalemate in EU-Russia Relations ● 229partnership” between Russia and the EU (Herd 2003), heavy on rhetoric butlight on implementation.Looking beyond 2008–9, change will not come easily. The problem is notof a passing nature, and is not only connected with Russia’s authoritarian driftduring Putin’s second term, or with the EU’s current travails of enlargementand constitutional reform. Nor does the problem lie in the poor quality ofEU-Russian relations, which could be corrected by some good policies andproper documents. Once again, the real issue is the systemic incompatibilityof the EU and Russia, who undergo different cycles in the evolution of theirspatial governance, 3 display contrasting reactions to globalization, and engagein modern rituals of othering.A Recommendation: Going beyond Modern ScriptsRevoke the Rituals of OtheringA more positive outlook for the EU-Russia partnership requires a mentalchange on both sides. The Russian elite needs a less isolationist and securitizedimagination of the outside world, getting rid of various conspiracytheories and fears of the “orange revolution” coming from the West. In thissense, rather than policies of fear and damage limitation, Russia should belooking for ways to accept the European Other, and for institutionalizedforms of cooperation.The EU, too, will have to do its homework. In particular, the mechanismsof foreign policy making will have to be detached from the ideologyof integration and from the practice of offering weak derivatives of enlargementas a substitute for a strategy for external relations. Like Russia, theEU foreign policy machine needs to be debureaucratized and given a boldpolitical vision, based on Europe’s interests, not on “European values” definedin terms of civilization.The magnitude of change seems all the greater since it involves mechanismsof identity formation. By the mid-2000s, after the accession ofthe (largely Russophobic) East European nations to the EU and after the“colored revolutions” in the post-Soviet space, the EU and Russia returnedto the opposing positions of constitutive Others in their respective identityprojects. Russia’s new great-power identity is increasingly formed in oppositionto the West (e.g., the official state holiday, National Unity Day, isnow held on November 4, the day the Poles were expelled from Moscowin 1612, and this holiday has a decidedly anti-Western sound). For Europeans,too, discourses othering Russia are evoked at every opportunity, be itWorld War II victory celebrations in Russia in 2005, the 2006 G8 summit in

230 ● Sergei MedvedevSt. Petersburg, or the Litvinenko poisoning affair later the same year. In thissense, any realistic prospect of an EU-Russian partnership requires a changein identity patterns.Work beyond the Moscow-Brussels FrameworkConsidering that stagnation in EU-Russian relations will prevail in the shortrun and that partnership is not likely to occur without systemic political andpsychological change in both the EU and Russia, the obvious policy advice isto avoid the structures and rhetoric of partnership or, indeed, any permanentarrangement or legally binding framework for EU-Russian relations. Oneneeds to lower expectations in order to avoid disappointment.In fact, the question may arise whether the entire complex of interactionsbetween Russia and the European countries is bound by EU-Russian relationsor, indeed, by the heavily bureaucratized dialogue between Moscow andBrussels. EU-Russian relations are too important (one could say existential)to be left to the bureaucracies on either side. Other avenues of dialogue exist,first of all the traditional web of bilateral relationships: Russia-Germany,Russia-France, Russia-Italy, and Russia-Finland. Fears that these relationshipsmight ruin a “common” EU approach are groundless since there is no commonapproach to begin with.Likewise, dormant regional initiatives, like the EU’s Northern Dimension,as well as the non-EU Council of Baltic Sea States (CBSS) and the BarentsEuro-Arctic Cooperation, could become useful interfaces for engagingregions, local communities, and groups of people across borders. So far, theseinitiatives have been underresourced on both sides, but given the overall looseEU-Russia institutional framework, they should be given a second chance.Out-of-the-Box Thinking: Problematizing “Sovereignty”and “Europeanization”The tool kit of EU-Russian relations is clearly not adequate for overcomingthe stalemate. Apart from bilateral and regional diplomacy, some innovative“out-of-the-box” thinking is needed to jump-start the relationship from itscurrent stasis. This may seem far-fetched, idealistic, and politically suicidalfor the incumbents, but at some point one has to question the fundamentalsthat underlie the policy thinking in Moscow and Brussels, namely, “sovereignty”for Russia and Europeanization for the EU.For Russia, problematizing its cherished “sovereignty” (defined in strictlysecurity terms) could mean the abolition of visa requirements for EU citizens,a “unilateral visa disarmament” (Skidelsky and Erochkine 2003). This could

The Stalemate in EU-Russia Relations ● 231have a groundbreaking effect on EU-Russian relations, and Brussels will feelobliged to reciprocate, significantly simplifying the Schengen visa regime forRussian citizens, with a view to abolishing visas altogether.By the same token, Russia and the EU could experiment with the establishmentof “pilot regions” along the common border, which could becometest grounds for the adaptation of EU legislation and for visa-free exchanges.The first of such regions could be Kaliningrad. The idea of the Kaliningradenclave assuming the status of an “overseas territory” of Russia was brieflyentertained in early 2005 but dumped by the Kremlin, which feared the lossof sovereignty it would entail, and by Brussels, which was unwilling to grantRussia any kind of “exceptionality.” Still, the idea of a voluntary adaptationby parts of Russia of some of the EU acquis (the body of EU law), not becauseof pressure from Brussels but for purely pragmatic reasons, merits consideration(Pursiainen and Medvedev 2005).As for the EU, the key problem in its relations with Russia is the “sacredcow” of Europeanization that “offers Russia the option, either of being imperializedwithin its [Europe’s] folds, or, alternatively, remaining marginalizedon the periphery of Europe” (Browning 2003, 45). Whether authoritarian ordemocratic, Russia will never feel comfortable as the subject of a “civilizing,”“educational” discourse. In this sense, Europeanization can hardly become asolid foundation for an equal relationship.By the same token, Russia’s “exceptionality” cannot be a good foundationfor EU-Russian relations either, since it will rest on the implicit acceptance ofthe hegemonic European “norm” within which Russia will not be accepted,but tolerated.This brings us back to the question of globalization. In adapting to itsrisks and challenges, Russia and Europe default into traditional modernistdiscourses. For Russia, the return to “sovereignty” in the 2000s means fallingback on the modern origins of Russian statehood of the past five centuries,formed in opposition to the West (Poe 2003). Meanwhile, for the EU, Europeanizationmay sound postmodern but, in practice, means a retreat to anessentially modern teleology of progress and to a colonialist interpretation ofWesternness as goodness. In questioning “sovereignty” and Europeanization,Russia and Europe will have to go beyond their modern thinking and therituals of othering and try to accept the Other as a given, rather than somethingto be opposed or transformed. The result could be Euro-pluralism, anew discursive foundation for a durable EU-Russian partnership.

232 ● Sergei MedvedevNotes1. For the analysis of the Common Strategy on Russia (CSR), see Haukkala andMedvedev 2001.2. As the author further concedes, the EU “has worked out for itself a well-identifiedcorpus of law, norms and values. But it does not have a well-defined modelfor exporting these.” (Emerson 2005, 4).3. According to Makarychev, “both Russia and the EU are entities in a state offlux. In Vladimir Kaganski’s analysis, Russia herself is an example of unformedspace, which needs to be reassembled. Though in a different sense, the EU is farfrom being based upon a well established spatial structure of governance. Therefore,one may wonder whether the two entities in transition are in a position toconstitute a durable set of spatial arrangements.” (Makarychev 2006a, 43).

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IndexThe letter n following a page number indicates a note on that page.actorness, legitimate, 36–37, 40–43Adler, Emanuel, 120nAdolphus, Gustavus, 18Agnew, John, 192-93, 195, 197, 213nAlexander I, Tsar, 36, 41–42Alexei, Tsar, 17Americanization of culture, 222–23anciens régimes, 23, 26Anderson, Malcolm, 194Anisimov, Evgeniy, 19Austin, John L., 135, 140–42Austria, 20, 24–28, 41, 44, 53Averre, Derek, 218–19Bagger, Hans, 24–25BALTCOM, 69Baltic Pipeline System (BPS), 85Baltic Sea Region Energy Cooperation(BASREC), 84Barents-Euro-Arctic Council (BEAC),62, 71, 78, 80–81Barkin, J. Samuel, 41Barysch, Katinka, 226Benjamin, Jessica, 196Berlin Treaty, 26Blaney, L. Davis, 211nBolingbroke, Lord, 25Bolsheviks, 44–46Bordachev, Timofei, 217border, Russian-Ukrainian, 9, 188,203–7“border making,” 204borders, role of in internationalrelations, 193–203border studies, 192–95Bosnia, 66Brezhnev, Leonid, 49, 216Browning, Christopher, 221Bulgaria, 66–67, 215, 219, 224, 228Bull, Hedley, 37, 55n, 143nBunce, Valerie, 56nbureaucratic capitalism, 163–64bureaucratic centralization, 9–10, 225bureaucratic imperialism, 9–10, 224–27bureaucratic tourism, 82business community, 84–87Byzantine Empire, 14Catherine the Great, 29Chancellor, Richard, 17Charles I, King, 17, 21Charter of Paris, 51Chechnya, 32, 67, 68, 80, 109, 113–15,121n, 137, 224Chernomyrdin, Viktor, 84, 154China, 15, 163, 178, 193, 225, 226Chita-Khabarovsk road, 124, 132–35,138–39, 142Christianity, 16, 18, 22–23, 38, 30,33n, 35classical geopolitics, 194cold war, 7, 36, 46–52, 53–54, 105,120n, 152Committee on Financial Monitoring(CFM), 68–69

260 ● IndexCommon Economic Space (CES),155–60, 170–76, 181, 217Common European Home, 48, 50–51,56n, 97, 203Common Space of External Security,155, 217Common Space of Freedom, Security,and Justice, 155, 217Common Space of Research, Education,and Culture, 155, 217Common Spaces, 152, 155–56,172–73, 217–18, 220, 224, 227Commonwealth of Independent States(CIS), 67–68, 124, 154, 158–59,164, 184n, 207, 211n, 227communism, 13, 44–45, 48–53, 56nfall of, 30, 97, 168Communist Party, 48, 75, 106Concept Paper (CEES), 155–58, 176Concert of Europe, 43, 45Conference on Security andCooperation in Europe (CSCE),47–49, 52, 104–5, 121nSee also Organization for Security andCooperation in Europe (OSCE)conflict, 5–6, 9, 79, 201cooperation and, 187–89incompatibility and, 189–91, 202in international relations, 210ninstitutions and, 182integration as, 171, 181, 202Marxist analysis of, 161–62positive function of, 209–10representations of, 201soft security threats as source of,169–70territory as source of, 211nconflict analysis, 211nconflict prevention, 79, 90, 194conflict resolution, 63, 79, 90Congress of Carlowitz, 19Congress of Vienna, 36congress system, 41–44, 53constitutional revolutions, 40constructivism, 6, 8, 9, 16, 26, 28, 30,39–40, 98–99, 103, 120n, 150,167–71, 182–83, 189containment, United States policy of,46–47Conventional Forces in Europe (CFE)Treaty, 67, 76, 93nCooper, Robert, 201Council for Economic MutualAssistance (CMEA), 49–50Council of Europe (CoE), 4, 7, 53,74, 78–80, 87, 97–98, 103–10,112–18, 220Council of the Baltic Sea States (CBSS),62, 69–70, 78, 80–81, 85, 230Council of the Federation, 74–75, 79Crimean War, 41, 43Cromwell, Oliver, 21customs union, 156–58, 176, 181,184nDe Certeau, Michel, 212ndeath penalty, 7–8abolition of as European norm,103–4, 120ndevelopment of abolition of inRussia, 106–120European attempts to promoteabolition of, 104–6Decembrist uprising (1825), 42decision-making, 7, 59–60, 91–92,145neconomic, 162–63of the EU, 166, 176–77federal government actors in, 60–76local, 165local government actors in, 82–83nongovernmental actors in, 83–91,92regional government actors in, 76–82supranational, 151–53, 158Denmark, 17–18, 28, 66, 82, 85depoliticization, 162Derrida, Jacques, 140, 211n, 212nDeutsch, Karl, 168, 184nDirectorate on Foreign Policy, 73double-talk, 141–42, 145nDukes, Paul, 24Duma, Russian State, 3, 18, 72, 74–76,78, 110–15, 121n

Index ● 261DVTG Group, advertisement of,125–26economic integrationCES and, 155–58, 181degrees of, 156, 175–77economic union as, 158EU-Russian, 158, 175–77full, 158legal approximation and, 171prerequisites for, 51–52Edinaya Transportnaya Sistema (ETS),126Edward VI, King, 17Efinger, Manfred, 211nEmerson, Michael, 200, 218–20Energy Charter, 215, 216, 224England, 16–18, 21, 24, 28English School of InternationalRelations, 27, 37, 39, 48, 55nEnlightenment, 29, 42environmentalists, 88–89Erofeev, Venedikt, 142–43Estonia, 65–66, 81, 220European Commission, 1, 69, 157, 167,184n, 212nEuropean Community (EC), 49–52,55n, 152, 157–58, 160, 226European international society:development of, 36–40homogeneity in, 38–39Russia’s role in reconstitution of, 53use of the phrase, 55nEuropeanization, 9, 51, 207definitions of, 220–22disillusionment in, 216, 222global risk management and, 224history of, 54integration and, 201, 207sovereignty and, 5, 207, 218–22,225, 230–31transnational communication of, 168European Neighborhood Policy (ENP),205–6, 212n, 224, 227–28European norms, 7abolition of death penalty as, 103–4,116Nicholas I and, 42Russia’s acceptance of, 108, 118Russia’s noncompliance with, 116European Political Cooperation, 55n“Europe” as a concept, 35–36Euroregions Project, 82–83, 93EU trade with main partners, 178federalism, 9, 76, 150–51, 179, 184nFederal Security Service (FSB), 68–69First Northern War, 19Foreign Intelligence Service (FIS),67–68Foucault, Michel, 211n, 212nFour Common Spaces, 152, 155–56,172–73, 217–18, 220, 224, 227Fourteen Points (Wilson), 44France, 2, 4, 17, 24, 26–27, 32, 43,150, 221, 227Franck, Thomas, 101–2, 104Frank, Sergei, 127–34Frederick III, Holy Roman Emperor, 15Frederick the Great, 27, 28free trade area (FTA), 156–59, 170,175–76, 184nFrench Revolution, 20functionalism, 5, 9, 150–52, 170, 179,183–84nG8, 32, 229Genoa Conference, 46geography, political, 192, 213nGermany, 4, 28, 43–44, 79, 85, 150,164, 221, 227, 230Gerner, Kristian, 13nglasnost, 48globalization, 2, 159, 169, 172, 183,208, 222–25, 231Golden Horde, Mongol, 14, 15Gorbachev, Mikhail, 46–52, 56n, 67Gorbachev Foundation, 91“gosudarstvennost” (stateness), 9governmental actorsfederal, 60–76local, 82–83regional, 76–82Grabbe, Heather, 205

262 ● IndexGrachev, Pavel, 65–67Great Northern War, 24–26Great Powers, 7, 35–36, 41, 46, 53,154–55great-power status, 6, 14, 16–17, 23,25–33, 229GRU (Main Intelligence Directorate ofthe General Staff), 68Guild, Elspeth, 205–206, 212nGurian, Walter, 55nHaas, Ernst, 102, 184nHalliday, Fred, 38–39, 55nHam, Peter van, 55nHamilton, Keith, 29Harju-Seppä, Mika, 35nHartley, Janet, 24Haslam, Jonathan, 211nHaukkala, Hiski, 7, 13n, 30, 34n, 105,149nHebdon, Sir John, 21Hédouville, Thomas, 28Hellmann, Manfred, 27–28Helsinki Final Act, 47, 49Henry VIII, King, 16Herberstein, Sigismund von, 14, 16Holy Roman Empire, 14–15Hopf, Ted, 13n, 35n, 55n, 149nHoutum, Henk van, 197, 211nhuman rights NGOs, 87Hume, David, 28identity relations, 1, 4Inayatullah, Naeem, 211nIndia, 226institutionalism, 5, 9, 150, 165, 167,171integrationSee economic integrationinterest group theories, 9, 150, 162–63,171, 182intergovernmentalism, 9, 150, 153,165, 170, 180International Political Economy (IPE),162–63, 181international society, definition of, 37Ishaev, Viktor, 135Ivan II, 14Ivan III, 15, 33nIvan IV, 33nJackson, Robert, 38–39, 55nJazev, V. A., 133Jones, Robert A., 56nKaganski, Vladimir, 232nKaliningrad, 61, 66–67, 68–71, 73,75–90, 92, 185n, 216, 231Kennedy, Paul, 24Keohane, Robert O., 36Koleshnikov, Vladimir, 115Kolstø, Pål, 13nKononenko, Vadim, 5–6, 9Kosachev, Dmitry, 75Kosovo, 66, 75, 223Krasheninnikov, Pavel, 76, 111, 115Krasner, Stephen D., 38, 145nKulayev, Nurpashi, 115Laidi, Zaki, 144nLaird, Robbin F., 56nLanghorne, Richard, 29Latour, Bruno, 144nLatvia, 65–66, 81, 82, 85, 121nLauchlan, Iain, 35n, 55nLavrov, Sergei, 70Law on Security, 63, 72, 73League of Armed Neutrality, 28Ledeneva, Alena, 137, 145nLeDonne, John P., 36legal approximation, 9, 150, 159–61,171, 181Lehti, Marko, 35nLenin, Vladimir Ilyich, 45, 49–50Liberal Democratic Party, 75liberal imperialism, 223liberalism, 29, 33, 34n, 52, 54, 159,181Lincoln, Bruce, 29Lindberg, Leon, 184nLithuania, 14–16, 19–20, 22, 65–66,77, 79–82, 84, 86Litvinov, Maxim, 46Loris-Melikov, Count, 32

Index ● 263Louis XIV, King, 20Lozhinin, V. Valeriy, 210Makarychev, Andrei, 218, 226, 232nMalcolm, Neil, 51, 56nMalia, Martin, 36, 43, 212nMarx, Karl, 34n, 130Marxism, 9, 45, 150, 161–63, 171, 181Medvedev, Sergei, 5, 9Michael, Tsar, 18military-autocracy, 44, 55nMiliutin, Nikolai, 43Milosevic, Slobodan, 66Ministry for Economic Developmentand Trade (MEDT), 61, 70, 73Ministry of Culture, 61, 71Ministry of Defense (MoD), 3, 61,63–68, 70Ministry of Education and Science, 61,71Ministry of Finance, 61, 71Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA), 3,61–68, 70, 73, 77, 93nMinistry of Social Development andHealth, 61, 71Mitrany, David, 183–84n“modernity syndrome,” 200Moltz, James, 56nMonnet, Jean, 183nmonocausality, problem of, 40Moon, David, 55nMorgenthau, Hans, 211nMoshes, Arkady, 35nMuscovy, 2, 4, 14–23Mutually Assured Destruction, 47Napoleon, 42Napoleonic Wars, 6–7, 13, 41nationalism, 43–47, 53, 183nNATO, 66–67, 74, 76, 87, 91, 93n,111, 166, 224neofederalism, 150neofunctionalism, 5, 9, 150–53,158–59, 170, 180, 184nneoinstitutionalism, 165, 167, 171, 182neorealism, 39, 55n, 56n, 153–55Netherlands, 18, 21, 24Neumann, Iver, 6, 35, 38, 55n, 56nNew Europe, 51–52, 114, 124, 224New Thinking, 48–50Nicholas I, Tsar, 42Nicholas II, Tsar, 43nongovernmental actors, 3–4, 7, 59, 62,83–93nonintervention, 38normative adaptation, 46normative cooperation, 98–103“Normative Power Europe,” 55nnorm-makers, 2, 40–41, 53Northern Dimension Action Plans(NDAPs), 85Northern Dimension EnvironmentalPartnership (NDEP), 81, 89Northern Dimension Initiative (NDI),69, 76, 85, 89, 93, 185n, 228, 230North European Gas Pipeline (NEGP),85, 227Nye, Joseph S., 184nOctober Revolution, 44–45Oestreich, Gerhard, 20, 27–28Ojanen, 210nOrange Revolution, 206, 229Organization for Security andCooperation in Europe (OSCE),4, 7, 62, 74, 80, 87–88, 97–98,104–105, 120–21nOrtmann, 212nPaleologue, Sophia, 14Pan-European/International TransportCorridors, 6, 86, 123–32, 137–39,143Partnership and Cooperation Agreement(PCA), 86, 156–57, 160–61, 166,185n, 215, 217, 220, 227Paul, Emperor, 26, 28Peace of Nystad, 24–25Peace of Stolbovo, 18Pelevin, Viktor, 145nperestroika, 30, 48, 50–51Perry, William, 67Peter the Great, 14, 17, 19–22, 24–30,42

264 ● IndexPeter’s Grand Embassy, 19Pettman, Ralph, 120nPhilpott, Daniel, 39–40, 55nPistone, Sergio, 184nPoe, Marshall, 14, 16–17Poland, 15, 18–21, 26–27, 66, 79–82,85–86, 164, 185n, 205, 215Poppel, Nikolai, 15Porte, the, 18–20Portugal, 28Potemkin, P. I., 23“potemkinization,” 140Pratt, 212nPrescott, John, 193, 195, 197, 211nPresidential Administration, Russian,73–76, 92Presidential Pardons Commission, 107,113Prodi, Romano, 144, 184n, 221progress, 112, 117–18, 197–98, 201–2,208, 211n, 231Protestant Reformation, 37Prozorov, Sergei, 201–2, 211n, 212nPrussia, 24–28, 53public policy centers, 89–91Pursiainen, Christer, 5, 8–9Putin, Vladimir, 70, 133, 135, 184nappointment of Yastrzhembsky by, 73authoritarianism of, 216, 226, 229death penalty under, 113–16decision to suspend CFE treaty by,93non the EU, 154–55exploiting the parliament under, 79FSB under, 68MoD under, 67, 93n“power vertical” under, 142“sovereign democracy” under, 187“the state” under, 31, 218, 225Pynnöniemi, Katri, 8“razzmatazz,” 125, 135, 138–42, 145nrealism, 6, 28, 32, 153–55, 170, 180,184n, 189, 193–96, 210n, 211nreforms, nineteenth century, 43–44religious organizations, 87–88Risse, Thomas, 99–101, 118Risse-Sikkink model of socialization,99–101, 118Rittberger, Volker, 211nRoad Map of the CES, 156–60, 168,176, 184n, 217, 220Romania, 66, 215, 219, 224, 228Romanov dynasty, 18Ropp, Stephen, 99Russell-Johnston, Lord, 114–16Russian Federation, 63, 72, 74, 76, 78,80, 82, 103, 107, 109–10, 115,121n, 144n, 154Russian Foreign Ministry, 64, 71, 78,79, 86, 88, 90Russian Foreign Policy Decision MakingSystem, 59, 83, 91–93Russian Orthodox Church (ROC),87–89Russian-Ukrainian border, 9, 188,203–7Russia’s foreign trade structure, 163,177Russia’s trade with main partners, 178Rutland, Peter, 225Saari, Sinikukka, 7–8, 149n, 210nScheingold, Stuart, 184nSchimmelfennig, Frank, 101Schmitter, Philippe, 184nSchnitzenpaumer, Georg, 15, 26Schuman, Robert, 183nSearle, John, 128, 135, 138, 143–46n,211nSecurity Council of the RussianFederation, 63–65, 72–74“Self-Other” relation, 201Sending, Ole Jacob, 13nSerbia, 66, 75, 111Sergeev, Igor, 70Sergunin, Alexander, 7–8, 149n, 210nSeven Years’ War (French and IndianWar), 27–28Shafirov, Peter, 25–26, 30Shevardnadze, Edouard, 51–52Shevtsova, Lilia, 54, 91Sigismund III, King, 20Sikkink, Kathryn, 99–101, 118

Index ● 265single market, 49, 156, 158–59, 176Sobieski, Jan, 20social identity, 3socialization theories and assumptions,98–118Sørensen, Georg, 39sovereign democracy, 9, 187, 195, 208,218sovereignty:boundaries and, 193–97Europeanization and, 5, 207,218–22, 225, 230–31legitimate actorness and, 37–38“mutations” of, 41–52nonintervention and, 38as a social construct, 38Westphalian, 9, 37–41, 50, 55n, 195,197–200, 209, 218Soviet Union, 168, 193Chita-Khabarovsk project in, 139in the cold war, 47–54collapse of, 30–32, 54, 56n, 108,154, 197, 211ndeath penalty in, 106, 108dictionaries/language in, 136,141–42, 145nEuropeanization of, 51federalism of, 76foreign policy expertise in, 89, 92great-power status in, 14normative adaption of, 46–52official diplomatic history of, 15, 19,24, 38Putin on, 31razzmatazz in, 141realpolitik of, 45–46rejection of European norms by, 45transport network of, 132, 144nSee also USSRSpain, 23Spinelli, Altiero, 184nspiral (Risse-Sikkink) model ofsocialization, 99–101, 118“splitting” of IR theories, 196–97, 209Stalin, Joseph, 45–46, 55nStuart, Charles Edward (the“pretender”), 26Surkov, Vladislav, 218Susiluoto, Ilmari, 141Sutton, Brent A., 145nSuzuki, Shogo, 13nSweden, 14, 17–22, 24, 26, 28, 30,80–82Talleyrand, Charles, 28Tarvainen, Tiina, 35nterrorism, 113, 172, 222–24, 228Thibaud, Paul, 218think tanks, 4, 59–60, 76, 89–92, 93Thirty Years’ War, 18–19, 37, 40Thomas, Daniel, 55n, 101Timmerman, Heinz, 56ntransactionalism, 168“transformation of Russia,” Peter theGreat’s, 25, 30transnationalism, 169transport corridors, 6, 86, 124–43,143nTreaty of Bakhchisarai, 20Treaty of Teschen, 27–28Treaty of Utrecht, 17Trenin, Dmitry, 91, 216Trotsky, Lev, 45Trumbull, William, 24Tsarist Russia, 15, 17–23, 29, 33n,41–44, 48, 125See also individual tsarsTurkey, 25, 28, 77, 106, 157, 178, 219,224Turner, Frederick Jackson, 195United Nations Security Council, 32Uspenskii, Eduard, 141USSR, 59, 216, 226See also Soviet UnionWæver, Ole, 51War of the Polish Succession, 26War of the Spanish Succession, 17, 24Watson, Adam, 27, 37, 39, 55nWeapons of Mass Destruction (WMD),172, 228Webber, Mark, 198Weldes, Juan, 221

266 ● IndexWendt, Alexander, 189Western European Union (WEU), 67Westphalia (Treaty of), 19, 37–41, 3–54“Westphalian deferral,” 211nWestphalian state/sovereignty, 9, 37–41,50, 55n, 195, 197–200, 209, 218Westwood, J. N., 125, 131Wettig, Gerhard, 56nWhite, Hadyn, 208Whitworth, Charles, 25Wilson, Woodrow, 44, 47Witte, Sergei, 43–44Wittgenstein, Ludvig, 141, 143n, 146nWohlforth, William C., 13n, 56nWorld Trade Organization (WTO), 32,61, 70, 74, 156–57, 171, 227World War I, 44, 54World War II, 41, 46, 47, 229Wright, Georg Henrik von, 140, 146nYablokov, Alexei, 89Yastrzhembsky, Sergey, 73“Year of Europe,” 50Yeltsin, Boris, 60, 65–66, 72–79,109–11, 154, 218, 224Yugoslavia, 66, 223YUKOS affair, 225Zacher, Mark W., 145 nZakharova, Larisa G., 43zastoi, 216Zevi, Brune, 141Zizek, Slavoj, 221Zorin, V. A., 19, 33nZurn, Michael, 211nZyuganov, Gennady, 208