Belarus and the Failure of the Russian World
Chris Miller
Moscow’s plans to make Belarus a cornerstone of its Eurasian integration project are looking like an increasingly bad bet.
In April 2014, a month after annexing Crimea, Russian President Vladimir Putin declared himself the defender of the Russkiy Mir—a “Russian world” dominated by ethnic Russians and encompassing most of the territory of the former Soviet Union. Observers in Russia and abroad had long interpreted the Kremlin’s interest in Eurasian integration as a thinly veiled effort to re-establish Moscow’s sphere of influence in the post-Soviet space. The seizure of Crimea was supposed to function as a demonstration of Russian resolve and a message to Moscow’s neighbors about the risks of resistance.
Three years have passed since Russia annexed Crimea. How is the “Russian world” project proceeding? Not well: In fact if anything it has gone in reverse. Putin himself has shelved the term. Excluding the Donbass and Crimea, Russian influence in Ukraine is at its lowest ebb since Catherine the Great. The Kremlin’s efforts to build the Eurasian Economic Union into a functioning trade bloc have scored mixed results at best. But the best evidence of the Kremlin’s failure to enhance its influence in the former Soviet space is its deteriorating relations with the country that long seemed the most natural candidate for entry into the Russian world: Belarus.
Relations between Moscow and Minsk have always been close yet complicated. Over the past several years, however, Belarussian President Aleksandr Lukashenko has reasserted Belarussian sovereignty, repaired some ties with the West, and demanded more benefits from Russia in exchange for preserving the two countries’ tentative friendship. Minsk and Moscow are now in the middle of a contentious negotiation over gas, which Russia has historically provided to Belarus at below-market levels. Subsidized gas is the price of Minsk’s willingness to tolerate Russia’s Eurasian integration agenda. But Belarusian demands keep increasing. The cost of retaining influence in Minsk has increased even as the Kremlin’s budget for buying friends has shrunk.
Since 2014—when Russia seized Crimea and the price of oil slumped—Lukashenko has offered reduced influence to Moscow but demanded more cash. There are three reasons why. First, rather than incentivizing obedience, the Crimean example gave Lukashenko a reason to hedge against Russian influence and defend Belarussian sovereignty. Second, the West responded to Crimea in part by reopening ties with Belarus, giving Minsk diplomatic options besides Moscow. Third, the oil-induced economic crisis hit Belarus as hard as Russia, so Lukashenko now needs extra Russian cash to address discontent at home, as the recent protests showed. He is driving a harder bargain with Russia, leading to the sharpest disagreements between the two countries in a decade. The cost of maintaining Belarus’ participation in the Russian world has gone up.
Compared to all other former Soviet republics, Belarus did the least to develop a unique national identity after independence in 1991. Russian is spoken far more widely than Belarusian; even Lukashenko usually speaks in Russian. The cultural links between Russia and Belarus motivated a movement to merge the two countries, though no progress was made beyond visa-free travel and extensive economic integration. Still, Belarus is more closely linked with Russian than any other post-Soviet country.
The annexation of Crimea, however, changed how the Belarusian elite approached the question of sovereignty. Suddenly cultural similarities with Russia represented a threat to the ruling regime in Minsk, lest the Kremlin use the pretext of defending Slavic brethren to unify the two countries by force. In 2014, Lukashenko started giving speeches in Belarusian. He refused to recognize Russian rule in Crimea, and positioned himself as a neutral mediator during peace talks between Moscow and Kyiv rather than a Kremlin lackey.
When Russia demanded access to airbases in Belarus, Minsk refused, even though the two countries ostensibly have a joint air defense system. After months of negotiations, Moscow has quietly shelved the issue, admitting that it lacks the tools to compel or coerce Belarus into handing over an airbase. Despite Lukashenko’s refusal to allow the basing of Russian planes in his country, Moscow agreed to give Minsk new military technology that it had previously refused to transfer—a concession from Moscow, and a victory for Minsk.
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But Moscow’s plans to make Belarus a cornerstone of its Eurasian integration project look increasingly unsuccessful. Minsk may be a founding member of the Eurasian Economic Union, but from Russia’s perspective it has also become the most frustrating member, constantly demanding new funds while simultaneously improving ties with the West. Strong-arming Minsk ought to be easy, but Russia has discovered how few tools it has to coerce Belarus, especially when the Kremlin’s budget is tight. Given its culture, history, and economy, no country is a more natural member of the “Russian world” than Belarus. Over the past two years, no country has done more to demonstrate the weakness of Russian efforts to reestablish hegemony in the post-Soviet space.
Full article
https://www.the-american-interest.com/2017/04/04/belarus-and-the-failure-of-the-russian-world/
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