On Russian imperialism and Ukrainian borderland
Since the very start of the war, I’ve been grappling with this question: “Russia is fighting the war of pure evil, akin to Germany in 1939. So what is it about Russia that makes it likely — or unlikely — to repent, as Germany did after 1945?”
A naïve assumption about common Russians’ humanism
With this war, we all go through stages of grief. The first stage is denial. Mine manifested through refusing to believe that people — ordinary Russian people —would ever support Russia’s unprovoked attack on Ukraine, let alone be prepared to die for it. I wrote a letter to Russians. I advocated for open dialogue. I also argued —with my starry-eyed humanistic assumptions in the background — that surely, a popular uprising in Russia is only a matter of time (months, perhaps, — not decades). I analysed how to dismantle the Russian propaganda wall, — a feat worthy of a McKinsey-style business case, but hardly an actionable strategy to a student of history with an understanding of propagandistic speech.
I’m an academic, so questioning my assumptions is in the job description. That naturally prevents me from being stuck in my naivete (or denial) for too long. This assumption in particular has been wrong: that ordinary humanism of common people applies regardless of Russia’s historical path (an imperialistic one), current and past governance structure (an autocratic one), and culture (one of self-proclaimed superiority over Ukrainians). Plainly, my assumption of unconditional humanism of common Russian people is too simplistic to be useful in producing any realistic model of Russian behaviour.
The more realistic assumptions about Russians:
- Russia has a long-running history of imperialism-driven conquest, and the current war is nothing but a continuation of that historical pattern. The implication? Absolving ordinary Russians from any responsibility for this war means remaining blind to the fact that the Russian people are not passive recipients of Putin’s propaganda —quite the contrary, —over multiple generations, the Russian culture planted the seeds of “Russian exceptionalism” from which Putin’s very propaganda sprouts. Putin did not invent Russians’ imperialistic sentiments, — he’s just proven highly skilled at exploiting them.
“But the Russian people cannot change the past!” — you might object. True, and neither can the Brits (who once presided over the largest empire in the world), nor Australians (who killed at least 20,000 Aboriginal people in the early years of colonization), nor Americans (who sent their military to Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan). The way forward is not to change the past course of history, but to correct the current one — after taking responsibility for the mistakes of the past. In this, the difference is glaring: unlike Americans, Australians or Brits, — whose civil society actively works through issues of colonial guilt, collective responsibility, and reconciliation, — Russian society is far from even comprehending how centuries-long territorial expansion of the Russian Empire has been a form of colonization.
2. Because Russia is ruled by an autocrat, Russians are (wrongly!) spared the responsibility for this war.
Since the start of the war, I’ve witnessed a debate between the two camps: one victimizing Russians and another assigning blame to them for supporting the war en-masse. It seems beyond doubt that most Russians do support the war. That begs the question: in the face of atrocities in Bucha, Irpin’, Mariupol and many more to be revealed still, — how should we assign moral responsibility to the people (Russians) governed by an autocrat (Putin)?
The crux of the issue, to me, is that in liberal democracies, there is a link, however imperfect, between the will of the people and the actions of the government. There are also mechanisms (like protests, free press etc.) to voice one’s position without the fear of being persecuted.
In Russia, however, the regime is an autocracy, sliding towards totalitarianism. In that regime, the will of the people counts for little, and that will, — in any case, — is shaped by state-controlled misinformation, and enforced with criminal persecution .
Autocracy or not, from the incentives standpoint, failing to assign moral responsibility to the Russian people creates a “free-rider problem”. The problem is this: the whole population of 145 million Russian people are receiving an indulgence letter up-front, forgiving their moral failure to stand up against the horrific atrocities ordered by Putin and executed by the Russian army. Westerners’ humanistic sentiment to spare Russians the responsibility is misplaced, as it exacerbates the incentives problem in the very place where incentives (to end the war, change the regime etc.) are scarce as they are.
3. The Russian culture has been a messenger (actually, a loud-speaker!) of imperialistic narratives.
Another lively debate centers around how to treat Russian cultural heritage— from literature to music to theatre. Erase Tolstoy? Cancel Chekhov? The proposition sounds senseless. What’s needed instead, is an in-depth re-interpretation of Russian literature, with a keen eye for issues of nationalism and imperialism. Literature scholars should place Russian literature within the context of postcolonial theory and discourse, thus balancing out the historical forces that favored colonial masters and their point of view.
Still not convinced what’s literature got to do with the current war and its propaganda? Look no further than this Twitter thread by Kamil Galeev, a Russian scholar of Literature and Modern History (He discusses a poem by Joseph Brodsky “On the Independence of Ukraine”):
The tectonics of being a borderland
We just had a sober look at the historical and cultural context shaping the Russian society. Given that context, can Ukraine’s victory indeed inoculate the Russians against imperialistic sentiments now and forever?
When I likened a much hoped-for Russia’s defeat to the defeat of Germany in 1945, I colleague of mine (who happened to represent one of the top international organizations in Ukraine some years ago) pointed out the role of demilitarization and reconstruction of Germany — which played no small role in the subsequent repentance and German collective guilt mentality. An outcome of that proportion — a division and demilitarization of Russia — sounds too far from reality for now (though I wouldn’t declare it outright impossible).
That leaves Ukraine to face the tectonic forces of history for some time to come. Ukraine remains a borderland — not in the geographical sense, but in being on the frontline of two competing narratives —about individual’s right to freedom.
Back to the original question: will Russia repent?
One part of the answer depends on whether — upon losing the war to Ukraine, — Russia is able to rid itself from its imperialist ambitions, and abandon any future attempts to destroy another nation. Given that the external occupation of Russia is unlikely, and the internally-driven change perhaps less likely still, I wouldn’t put my money on the “yes”.
Another part of the answer depends on how Ukraine manages the tectonics of its borderland position. The Russia-Ukraine war is also a war between two governance philosophies: those placing individual agency at the top (think Western democracies), and those denying individual agency and giving it up to an autocrat in charge (think Russia or China). Akin to lying on the border of tectonic plates, Ukraine is likely to experience colliding forces for some time to come.
Managing those forces effectively requires a strong nation — in terms of military force, national and cultural identity, economy and more. This time, however, I have every faith that Ukrainians will rise up to the challenge. From this war, we learnt that nothing is impossible.
