U.S.-Russian Partnership:  Meeting the New Millennium

19. CHANGING PERCEPTIONS of the MILITARY ROLES in POST-SOVIET RUSSIA

Vladimir Baranovsky

INTRODUCTION
The ongoing domestic transformation of Russia has created unprecedented conditions for debates on the roles of the military. Indeed, there has never been such a broad spectrum of ideas on the tasks and prospects of the armed forces discussed by military experts, civilian strategists, academicians, journalists, governmental officials, and politicians. This debate has permitted comparison of different threat assessment patterns, to suggest a variety of approaches for the developments of the military and to identify the range of available choices in this area. The latter has ceased to be the exclusive domain of the military, allowing for a broader impact on the part of the emerging civic society.

It should be noted that the price to be paid for such openness—all its advantages notwithstanding—was certain disorientation with respect to the "great lines" of Russia’s military developments. This lack of cohesion in terms of strategic thinking, together with zigzags of domestic developments and dramatic financial problems undermining Russia’s ability to maintain adequate military spending, has created a formidable inconsistency of the country’s theoretical perspectives and practical policy in the military sphere. Moreover, this is only aggravated with the number of actors on the domestic scene increasing, their interests becoming more diversified and the practice of consensus building still dramatically deficient.

However, it seems possible to highlight a number of major themes that are becoming predominant in Russian debates on the roles of the military. To a certain extent they have been introduced into the official documents issued by the presidency, the government, the parliament or other bodies, such as the Security Council of the Russian Federation. A number of quasi-official and nonofficial propositions that have been developed in this context also deserve attention—although it is true that some of them remain a matter of controversy, others are still either vague or insufficiently articulated.

It is quite clear that significant changes in Russia’s thinking on the role of the military factors—both for the national defense and in terms of the country’s international interests—are associated with the overcoming of the Cold War era confrontation. The most important change is that the scenario of a global East-West conflict has become by and large irrelevant. Preparing for such a conflict was considered the main function of the military in the Soviet times, which constituted the foundation of Moscow’s strategic and operational thinking as well as determined its practical efforts in building the armed forces and developing the military industry. This major rationale does not exist any longer.

Indeed, the argument requiring high level readiness of forces to respond to a large-scale attack against the national territory has lost much of its validity. Even the most conservative, backward-oriented political forces in Russia could hardly consider "a Western aggression" as a viable scenario, at least for the immediate and medium-term future. Their ideologically motivated hostility toward the West cannot be translated into politically acceptable and economically feasible recommendations for mobilizing the national resources to meet such developments.

As for the opposite part of the domestic political spectrum, its representatives—all their differences notwithstanding—were simply inclined to renounce to speculate along this line. Russia’s interaction with the West could be cooperative or competitive. However, even a model of a new rivalry would have no chances to evolve into anything similar to the "balance of terror" pattern that existed during the Cold War. The West, according to this logic, would have no incentives even to contemplate a possibility of a war against Russia, and the latter should develop its military potential without having such eventuality in mind.

The official National Security Concept of the Russian Federation, adopted by the President’s decree in December 1997, underlines: "Taking into account deep changes in the character of Russian Federation’s relations with other leading states, it is possible to conclude that in the forthcoming future the threat of a large-scale aggression against Russia practically does not exist." Actually, one could argue that the basic feature of the initial post-Soviet thinking in Russia with respect to the role of the military consisted in the fundamental erosion of its orientation against the West, which used to be overwhelming and all-embracing. However, this basic assessment has to be accompanied with at least two important qualifications.

First, with "anti-Westernism" as the raison d’être of the country’s military organization eliminated (or at least significantly downgraded), Russia has found itself in a kind of confusion and even frustration, since it was not clear what could become a substitute. Indeed, there was an urgent need to identify new tasks for the armed forces, and this in a time of great flux and uncertainties concerning practically all basic aspects of Russia’s existence—its domestic situation, its immediate geopolitical environment, and its international prospects in a wider sense.

Second, relations with the West have turned out more complicated and less idyllic than was believed by many proponents of the democratic changes in Russia at the initial period of its post-Soviet developments. This has resulted in a certain reassessment of the earlier hopes and illusions inscribed into the "end of history" model.1 The Russian thinking about the role of the military factors in ensuring national defense and the country’s international interests was affected as well.

In particular, the context of Russia’s relations with the West is no longer considered as irrelevant with respect to the country’s military status, especially in terms of the longer run perspectives. "Russia does not need to exhaust itself by militarization. But the situation could change, especially if Russia continues to become weaker."2 The above-mentioned National Security Concept stresses that Russia should be prepared for a possibility of "force rivalry" (silovoye sopernichestvo).

Russian officials, analysts, and the public are well aware of the country’s limited resources, which makes it impossible even to consider a model of a "military parity" with the West (whatever this might mean). But the need to have an efficient (even if considerably smaller) military potential is widely recognized; otherwise Russia’s political vulnerability with respect to the West could be only aggravated. Without sufficiently developed military tools, Russia will be unable to support its position even in low-profile disputes (for instance, with respect to activities in open seas), which could only invite Russia’s opponents to be more demanding and less compromise oriented. Furthermore, the worst case scenario in Russia’s interaction with the West, however unrealistic it might seem for the time being, is not to be excluded as something that can never and under no circumstances emerge. In particular, Russia’s nuclear potential is to be thoroughly preserved as a guarantee against such extreme eventuality.

One could hypothesize about the reasons of changing accents in Russian military-related thinking, writing, and (to a lesser degree) policy making. Assume in the broadest sense it is connected with the growing disappointment by the low pace of Russia’s integration into "the community of civilized countries"—even if caused by Russia’s slow adaptation abilities rather than by its partners’ lack of enthusiasm. Indeed, if Russia becomes a full-fledged participant in the world club of developed democratic states, the military component of its relations with other members becomes meaningless—like, for instance, between France and Germany. However, this has not happened; Russia still remains a specific case, all symbolic gestures to the contrary notwithstanding. If so, the pattern of "demilitarized" attitudes toward each other might seem at least premature.

This syndrome is aggravated by Western concerns that Russia might turn backward and become more authoritarian and assertive, if not totalitarian and openly aggressive. For the Western side (as well as for the former Moscow’s clients and satellites in "outer" and "inner" empires), such concerns seem fully legitimate (and even justified by Russia’s erratic developments in the post-Soviet period). For Russia, this is a serious reminder that things could turn bad in relations with the West. The issue of NATO enlargement seems in the respect to have been decisive: if Russia is regarded as a possible troublemaker that has to be contained by the military alliance’s efforts, then Moscow should also assume that the military confrontation pattern might re-emerge and should not be disregarded.

If such speculations might only seem theoretical, there are also practical evidences of U.S. and NATO military preparations aimed at responding to Russia-related contingencies. It is true that Moscow is inclined to disregard efforts toward restructuring NATO and adapting it to a nonconfrontational international environment. However, what seemed a "normal" and routine pattern during the Cold War (such as increasing ASW capabilities in the areas contiguous to the Russian basing points on the Kola peninsula) becomes a challenge ten years after it is over—or, at least, an invitation to tacitly accept a "business as usual" formula.

It is also necessary to mention the growing concern that the West should not be necessarily considered Moscow’s loyal supporter in a multitude of problems that Russia is facing in relations with its immediate and more distant neighbors. The West’s overall reluctance to be militarily involved does not mean that its involvement is inconceivable in principle. In such eventuality, it is important for Moscow that Russia’s military strength is not regarded by the West as something that does not count.

Russia’s ambivalent attitudes toward the West notwithstanding, its threat perceptions have radically shifted southwards.3 There are at least three areas of concern that make Moscow consider its military potential as an important factor of protecting and promoting Russia’s interests.

First, it is the Transcaucasus and its vicinities representing an increasingly volatile geopolitical landscape. The area’s immediate proximity to Russia’s troublesome North Caucasus provinces is only one, albeit extremely important, dimension of Moscow’s concerns—in particular, about the external support of military separatist activities, like in Chechnya. Other dimensions include uncertainties about domestic developments in all three Transcaucasian post-Soviet states, the existence of unresolved armed conflicts there, and the prospects of extracting energy resources from the Caspian oilfields.

Moscow is becoming extremely sensitive to what is perceived as the growing involvement of out-of-area actors in the region threatening Russia to be squeezed out of the Transcaucasus. The U.S. activism in the area is an especially irritating factor. Washington increasingly regards the Transcaucasus in terms of its vital interests, American investments there are rapidly developing, and the United States is obtaining powerful levers of influence over the region of growing strategic importance, both for Russia and in terms of broader geopolitical considerations. A dramatic reading of this phenomenon, increasingly common in Moscow, suggests that the next twist of the spiral of Russian-U.S. rivalry for spheres of influence will be in the Transcaucasus and around the Caspian Sea4.

If so, a more activist course on Russia’s part is urgently required, with military components being a significant part of such policy. Two military roles are of special importance in this regard. On the one hand, Moscow’s military involvement in conflict management in South Ossetia, Abkhazia, and eventually in Nagorno-Karabakh could consolidate Russia’s presence in the area as an indispensable actor. On the other hand, military assistance (or political assistance with a strong military backing) could become a means of influencing the political orientation of the recipient states—as in the case of Georgia and especially Armenia.

Second, the post-Soviet Central Asia risks to become another huge "gray zone" where Russia considers expedient to consolidate its influence and prevent the overall destabilization of the region. Many Russian analysts consider that the failure to achieve these goals is fraught with dramatic implications for the country, opening it to uncontrolled flows of narcotics, illegal weapons supplies, and refugees across unprotected borders. Another obsession is the threat of Islamic fundamentalist spillover onto Russia that might affect its Moslem population.

Russian military efforts in the region are focused upon Tajikistan—which is only natural in light of the four-year civil war in that country. Indeed, Russia’s military presence, in the framework of a formal Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) peace-keeping force, has proved both stabilizing and conducive to political settlement sponsored by Moscow. However, development in neighboring Afghanistan has dramatically increased Russia’s sensitivity and alarm as well as its disposition toward using more significant military means to protect the frontier—especially since the success of the fundamentalist Taliban movement is believed to be strongly backed by Pakistan.

Third, Russian concerns are assumed connected with China. Meanwhile, the official relations between the two countries are excellent; in particular, Moscow and Beijing have been successful both in removing from their agenda the issue of military confrontation and in developing some confidence-building measures along their 4,000-km frontier.

Nevertheless, a growing China represents a kind of "existential challenge" to the neighbor in the North. Whether this challenge might touch upon military issues is an open question, but it seems quite significant that the substance and, more importantly, the extent of Russia’s weapons sales to China has become a matter of controversial debates in the country. It is noteworthy that some experts argue it would be unreasonable to sell the most sophisticated Russian aircraft and other combat systems to the country that eventually might use them against the supplier. It should be noted, however, that the latter proposition is usually associated with a quite distant future even by the most alarmist analysts.

In Russian thinking about interaction with the external world, special attention is paid to the overall geopolitical space of the former Soviet Union. Although Russia has neither the resources nor the political will to reintegrate it on the basis of the "USSR minus the Baltics" formula, the importance of the "near abroad" is underlined by Russia’s official position of giving priority to the CIS in its foreign policy. However controversial this approach might be in terms of its practical implementation, Russia seems interested in making the military aspects of relations with other CIS countries more prominent. This may be attributed to a number of reasons.

Thus, the readiness of Russia to create a CIS-based structure similar to the defunct Warsaw Pact was proclaimed by President Yeltsin in the context of his decree of September 14, 1995 on "Russia’s strategic course with respect to the CIS member states." The decree stipulated the need "to move toward forming a collective security system" and "to promote the intention of the member states to unite in a defensive union."5

A number of publications authored by high-ranking officers outlined specific components of the proposed CIS military alliance building. The latter would include common or joint systems of strategic deployment, communications, intelligence, early warning, air defense, infrastructure, planning, maintenance, command structures, and so on. The collective military security was to be provided by regular forces with the capacity for rapid and massive action both in local conflicts and large-scale warfare. A joint chiefs of staff was to be created under the chairmanship of the head of the Russian Armed Forces General Staff, and coalition groups of forces were also to be created regionally (the western strategic direction, the Transcaucasus and Central Asia).6

Such ambitious plans were in sharp contradiction with the CIS political realities and in fact were doomed to failure from the very beginning.7 However, some CIS-based (or CIS-shaped) military-related developments have been more or less successfully initiated and led by Russia. Among them are the Tashkent Treaty on Collective Security (1992) that remains largely symbolic; the agreement on creating a joint air defense system (1995) aiming at restore dramatically eroded control over the airspace of the former USSR; the treaty on cooperation in protecting the CIS external borders (1995) allowing for Russia’s involvement; and the establishment of the controversial CIS framework for peace keeping (giving Russia a multilateral mandate for such activities in Tajikistan and Abkhazia). More importantly, Russia’s record include numerous bilateral military-related agreements with a number of the CIS countries—including those which proclaim the parties’ intention to combine armed forces (as with Kazakhstan) or legalize the deployment of Russian military bases (as with Georgia).

Russia’s thinking on its military roles in the CIS area remains controversial, but not more so than Russia’s policy making. On the one hand, illusions about a CIS-based military alliance led by Russia had to be abandoned as unrealistic, whereas Russia’s financial and military abilities have turned out more than limited for consolidating its status as recognized (even if not welcomed) protector and guarantor of the post-Soviet neighbors’ stability and security. On the other hand, concerns are growing in Moscow about the military implications of its shrinking position and competing influences in the CIS (as in the case of Ukraine’s eventual drift toward NATO). This might become an extremely serious incentive for reconsidering Russia’s military roles in the "near abroad" and making it more assertive and intrusive.

One of the most specific features of Russia’s post-Soviet reassessment of its military roles concerns nuclear weapons. The 1993 military doctrine reversed the former Soviet policy of no-first-use and nonuse of nuclear arms against non-nuclear states. Russia now reserves the right to use nuclear weapons also in response to a conventional attack launched by a state allied with a nuclear power (or in the event of joint actions by such states in carrying out or supporting an attack upon Russia or its allies).

This change in Moscow’s declared policy reflected a growing Russian sense of conventional vulnerability in relations both to the West and to eventual threats from the south. This option was assumed reinforced by the belief that nuclear weapons form the most reliable and well-controlled component of the Russian armed forces; that they require relatively less expenses to be adequately maintained and modernized; and that both these factors are especially important in a period of major restructuring of general-purpose forces and doubts about their combat capabilities.

Although this change in Russia’s nuclear policy only brings it into line with that of NATO, Moscow’s "modified" approach reveals a number of worrisome trends and uncertainties with respect to political and military roles of nuclear factors. Most importantly, it may mark a step back from the general recognition that nuclear weapons are essentially unusable. Indeed, a number of military and civilian experts developed strong arguments in favor of articulating the first-use policy more energetically (for instance, by envisaging a nuclear response to any conventional attack), considering an option of immediate use of strategic nuclear forces under conventional attack conditions, and even adopting a launch-on-warning pattern for strategic weapons.

In a broader sense, the political goal of eliminating nuclear weapons has been practically abandoned. Instead, the stabilizing role of nuclear weapons is underlined, with uncertainties in the international developments becoming more alarming and fraught with unpredictable consequences. Another set of considerations are obviously political, being related both to Russia’s international status and to the fact that a kind of parity with the United States is possible only with respect to nuclear weapons. Some Russian analysts warned against possible new U.S. initiatives on "de-nuclearization," arguing that this could be only aimed at further diminishing Russia’s role and consolidating the NATO/American lead in the conventional forces.

In this context, Russia’s interest in continuing nuclear arms control efforts seems motivated less by security considerations per se than by the desire to maintain the symbolic parity with the United States or, rather, to prevent it from turning into an excessive disparity. Noteworthy, the controversial debate around ratification of the START II treaty highlighted two main points: reduction costs for Russia and its poor prospects for preserving strategic nuclear forces due to financial constraints. Indeed, under the present financial support the balance between the United States and Russia will change in 10 to 12 years from approximately the 1:1 current ratio to 3:1, if START II is ratified, 6:1 if START II is not ratified, and 2:1 if both START II and START III are implemented.8

Against this background, Russia’s insistence that ABM limitations be preserved is only natural, especially in light of forthcoming problems with C3I; ensuring its effectiveness and reliability would require at least as much financing in the next decade as all strategic weapons development and procurement combined. It is clear that politically important symbolic measures, such as mutual de-targeting of strategic nuclear forces, could hardly become a real substitute in terms of traditional security calculations.

Two points of uncertainty in Russia’s current attitudes toward nuclear roles deserve mentioning. One concerns the lack of serious thinking about nuclear deterrence in the post-Cold War era—the deficiency that is not uncommon to other nuclear states as well. Indeed, even if the inconsistencies of traditional approaches under new international circumstances are recognized, it would be hard to identify any significant intellectual breakthrough that would allow rationalization of the continuation of nuclear deterrence thinking and to suggest any convincing ways to put it into effect. In the Russian case, this is also manifested by the lack of clearness on the issue of nuclear guarantees to the CIS (or the Tashkent treaty) partners.

Another ambiguity concerns the issue of nuclear nonproliferation. Noteworthy, Russia’s attention to nonproliferation seemed to have almost disappeared after a nonnuclear status for Ukraine was achieved. This lack of concern on the Russian side is paradoxical indeed, since it is contrary to any rational considerations (political interest in preventing the enlargement of the club of declared nuclear states, which provides Russia with somehow exclusive status, plus security interest in preventing the emergence of new nuclear weapons countries in Russia’s proximity which would inevitably increase the vulnerability of its territory). The 1998 nuclear tests in India and Pakistan might change this complacency, although Russia’s initial reaction does not necessarily provide grounds for such forecasts.

Moscow’s changing emphases with respect to nuclear weapons highlight the importance of Russian self-assigned military roles for maintaining or promoting the country’s international status. Apart from the area of nuclear weapons, this is of special relevance in Russia’s policy within the post-Soviet geopolitical space (as was already mentioned). It seems also indicative that President Yeltsin, when observing spectacular naval exercises on board of Piotr Velikiy (Peter the Great) atomic cruiser in August 1998, instructed the Security Council of the Russian Federation to develop a concept of political use of the Navy in support of Russia’s international interests.9

There are other manifestations of this function of Russia’s military. Thus, in light of Russia’s dramatically reduced international horizon, the area of the arms control in a broader sense, including both its nuclear and conventional aspects, remains one of the few channel of the country’s involvement onto the global level of the international system. This global connection endures, however significant the erosion of Russia’s super power mentality and actual capabilities might be.10

Another dimension concerns arms sales. Financial rationale undoubtedly plays a predominant role, whereas political implications are less clear and seem definitely underestimated or disregarded by Moscow. The latter seems to nourish significant hopes (and illusions) that this might become a miraculous means of saving both the defense industry and the armed forces from collapse. Indeed, Soviet weapons and military equipment were supplied to approximately one-third of the globe, and their maintenance and modernization might in itself represent a considerable market for Russia. At the same time, today the most sophisticated modern weapons and equipment developed by Russian producers are often reported to be supplied first to foreign recipients, because the Russian armed forces are unable to purchase them.

In theory, these factors, as well as Russia’s efficient military roles may contribute to promote Russia’s armed export. In practice, its share in the world export of major conventional arms has decreased, from 39 per cent in 1989 to 14 per cent in 1997, according to SIPRI data.11 Similar figures are provided by experts from Russian MoD research institute,12 but the anticipated considerable increase in this area, time and again reported by Russian officials from "Rosvooruzhenie," seems excessively optimistic.13 Under such conditions, facilitating procedures for arms export, as recently reported, might result in worrisome erosion of export control.

The most significant new manifestation of Russia’s growing attention to international parameters of its military roles could be found in the area of peace keeping and related or similar activities (humanitarian rescue operations and so on). Discussed in chapter 7, the issue deserves here only brief mention here.

Even very limited participation of Russia in international peace-keeping efforts in former Yugoslavia (i.e., outside the former Soviet territories) has brought significant political results, which seem to have convinced Moscow that such practice should be continued and expanded—although, like in any other military activities, limited resources affect the implementation of this line. Russia’s initial skepticism with respect to joint activities within the Partnership for Peace program is also being slowly overcome. Joint naval exercises emphasizing humanitarian activities were agreed upon by Russia, the United States, and Great Britain in 1992; Russian-American maneuvers, Cooperation on Sea, have been successfully carried out four times in the Pacific.14 By and large, this might be considered as a sign of "new thinking" with respect to future military roles of Russia in the new international context.

The issue of the military reform has been broadly discussed in Russia during the whole decade, but its practical implementation started only in 1997. Three main reasons have determined the urgency of this process: limited financial resources, which put under question the very existence of the armed forces; worsening demographic situation, which was dramatically reducing conscription; and the necessity to adapt the armed forces to new tasks under the post-Cold War international circumstances.

The reform is to be carried out in three stages:

As of mid-1998, significant and often painful decisions on restructuring the armed forces have been adopted and partially implemented.15 Military space forces (responsible for development, launching, and maintenance of military satellites) and missile space defense (with early-warning systems) were included in the strategic missile forces, with total personnel reduced by 85,000 and 57 units and other structural elements eliminated. The air defense (formally a separate service) was integrated with the air forces, which would allows reduction of total personnel by almost half (from 340,000 to 180,000).

The existing eight military districts, four fleets, seven districts for interior forces, six border control districts, and nine regional centers of the Ministry for emergency have to be replaced by six operational/strategic (territorial) commands controlling all forces in the areas of their responsibility. Deep reorganization has been carried out in the command structure of the ground forces. The total number of the ground forces divisions is to be reduced by half, with the main current efforts focused upon establishing only 3 to 4 fully equipped and staffed divisions. The overall personnel of the armed forces was downsized, during 1997-98, by 300,000 to 1.2 million, with further reductions envisaged for the future.

Thus, the ideology of the on-going reform consists in radical reorganization of the command structures and downsizing the armed forces. Rationalization of the armed forces would make them more flexible and allow development of adequate responses to military-related challenges, which will presumably be local rather than global. Resources have to be re-channeled onto combat training (with allocated funds to be increased by twelvefold) and adequate weapons and equipment procurement (with their share in total military expenditure to be tripled by 2001 and quadrupled by 2005).

There is less information on how the reform would allow to response to the challenges of the revolution in military affairs. Some systems developed and produced in Russia do represent the highest technological achievements, well above the world standards—as in the cases of S-300 air-defense system and T-90 combat tank. However, the low level of funding could not but considerably affect Russia’s R&D potential, whose budget dropped (from $60 to $5 billion during 1990-95, compared to the $35 billion spent by the United States on R&D in 1997).16

If Russia’s military output, by the end of 1996, was just one-eighth of the 1991 level; the largest falls were registered in the electronics and communications equipment industries (whereas, for instance, shipbuilding was less affected because of foreign orders for civilian vessels).17 In 1997, shortly after the appointment of reform-oriented Igor Sergeev as Defense Minister, funding cuts for at least 220 of 1,670 R&D institutes and design bureaus were announced, and they were encouraged to sell their services and technology directly to foreign firms.

The budgetary constraints endanger the overall implementation of the military reform. Thus, the reduction of the personnel requires considerable resources that will be, during initial years, superior to the costs of maintaining the current size of the armed forces. Continued underfunding of the MoD might once again become a stumbling block in the efforts to reform the Russian Armed Forces.

The above overview suggests that Russia’s understanding of its military roles allows both for conflicting and cooperative relations with other great powers. Cooperation might develop along the following lines:

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Last Update:  January 24, 2003