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Being one of 121 Australians whose names have been put on a list by Vladimir Putin’s government that stops us from travelling to Russia doesn’t really affect my life. So, in a narrow, personal way, the Kremlin’s posturing doesn’t mean much.
The list itself is like an Arnott’s biscuit random assortment. Maybe this shows that Russian intelligence penetration of Australian institutions and policymaking is not as deep as we might have expected.
But it tells us one big thing about Putin and his regime: like autocrats through history, he is threatened by free speech and those who use it to expose his crimes and abuses, such as his horrific war in Ukraine and his arrests, abuses and killings of domestic critics and opponents.
The contrast between me sitting here in Canberra having my name on a list and a journalist in Russia or a political opponent like Alexi Navalny having their name appear on a Kremlin list is stark. For those brave men and women it means arrest, psychological and physical abuse, and years in a Russian jail.
For someone like Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, it means Russian Speznaz death squads being sent to find him and kill him.
Thousands of Ukrainian men, women and children didn’t get put on a list but have been killed by Putin’s military since he ordered his war to begin on 24 February.
So, I think about the courage of those within Putin’s reach who still speak out—and, in the case of Ukraine, who risk their own lives in a battle that matters for all of us.
Freedom of speech and expression is what the Ukrainian people are fighting for and what Putin’s opponents within Russia want for the Russian people too. We have that here in Australia. This latest sign of anxiety from Putin is a powerful reminder of the value of our freedoms and the threat they pose to autocrats like the one in Moscow and his strategic partner in Beijing.
Putin’s barbarity and vindictiveness show why he must lose his war. And people living in freedom who share the values of the Ukrainian people must do all we can to help this happen.
Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese will feel this personal weight if he decides to visit Ukraine when he travels to Europe later this month. I, along with everyone else on Putin’s strange list, will support him in that.
When US President Joe Biden and Russian President Vladimir Putin held their first summit in Geneva last month, cyber weapons played a larger role on the agenda than the nuclear kind. Clearly the world has changed since the Cold War, but what, if anything, did Biden accomplish?
For more than two decades, Russia has proposed a United Nations cyber treaty. But the United States regarded such a pact as unverifiable. Unlike nuclear weapons, the difference between a cyber weapon and other computer code can depend simply on the programmer’s intent.
Instead of a treaty, Russia, the US and 13 other states agreed to voluntary norms, outlined by UN-sponsored groups of governmental experts, prohibiting attacks on each other’s civilian infrastructure and barring states from knowingly allowing wrongful acts to be staged from their territory. Although these norms were reaffirmed at the UN this past spring, sceptics note that shortly after it agreed to a 2015 report, Russia attacked Ukraine’s power grid and interfered in the 2016 US presidential election.
Unlike the US, which established a Cyber Command (USCYBERCOM) in 2010, Russia has never formally admitted to having offensive cyber capabilities. Both countries penetrate each other’s networks to gather intelligence, but it is sometimes difficult to draw a line between espionage and preparing the battlefield. That is why the US complained earlier this year about the Russian attack on the American firm SolarWinds, which is said to have infected at least nine major government agencies and more than a hundred significant corporations.
Even if formal arms control treaties are unworkable, it may still be possible to set limits on certain types of civilian targets and to negotiate rough rules of the road. For example, despite deep ideological differences, in 1972 the US and the Soviet Union negotiated an ‘incidents at sea’ agreement to limit naval behaviour that might lead to dangerous escalation.
Espionage isn’t against international law, and an agreement to ban it wouldn’t be credible. Nonetheless, the US and Russia might negotiate limits to their behaviour regarding the extent (not the existence) of their cyber spying. Or they might agree to set limits on their intervention in each other’s domestic political processes. Even if there’s no agreement on precise definitions, they could exchange unilateral statements about areas of self-restraint and establish a regular consultative process to contain conflict.
This seems to have been the approach explored by Biden in Geneva. According to press accounts, he handed Putin a list of 16 areas of critical infrastructure—including energy, health, information technology, financial services, chemicals and communications—that he said ‘should be off limits to attack, period’.
In one sense, this wasn’t new. The list of what Americans regard as critical infrastructure has long been posted on the website of the US Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency. But it’s different when one head of state hands a list to another.
After the meeting, Biden disclosed that he had asked Putin how he would feel if Russian pipelines were taken out by ransomware, as the US Colonial Pipeline was in May by criminals operating from Russia. That would be very costly for Russia’s economy, which depends heavily on pipelines to export its natural gas. The Americans didn’t attribute the ransomware attack on Colonial to the Russian government, but US experts have noted that criminal gangs in Russia seem to operate with impunity so long as they don’t attack Russian targets.
In his press conference after the summit, Biden said: ‘I pointed out to him that we have significant cyber capability. And he knows it. He doesn’t know exactly what it is, but it’s significant. And if, in fact, they violate these basic norms, we will respond with cyber. He knows.’ In other words, Biden was implying a deterrent threat if Russia continued to violate the voluntary norms prohibiting attacks on civilian infrastructure and use of its territory for harmful purposes. Putin is smart, and he certainly heard the message, but whether Russian behaviour will improve depends on Biden’s credibility.
Drawing red lines can be tricky. Some critics worry that by specifying what needed to be protected, Biden might have implied that other areas were fair game. Moreover, red lines must be enforced to be effective. The critics argue that the focus of the warning should have been on the amount of damage done, not where or how it is done.
By analogy, one doesn’t tell a party host to turn off all their music; you warn them that if the noise becomes intolerably loud, you will call the police. How Putin interprets Biden’s message remains to be seen in the months to come, but the two presidents did agree to establish a cyber working group that could try to define the limits of ‘tolerable’.
The US will need to state unilaterally the norms that it pledges to stand by. When Russia crosses such a line, America will have to be prepared with targeted retaliation, such as emptying the bank accounts of some privileged oligarchs, releasing embarrassing information or disrupting Russian networks. USCYBERCOM’s strategy of forward defence and persistent engagement can be useful for deterrence, but it must be accompanied by a process of quiet communication.
Criminal groups often act as state proxies in varying degrees, and the US will have to make clear that acting as a haven for cybercriminals will lead to retaliation. And because the rules of the road will never be perfect, they must be accompanied by a regular consultative process that establishes a framework for warning and negotiation. Whether Biden succeeded in launching such a process in Geneva, or whether Russian and American cyber relations will remain their bad normal, may well become clearer in the coming months.
Russia has published an official executive order (ukaz) titled ‘Basic principles of state policy of the Russian Federation on nuclear deterrence’.
It entered into force on 2 June when it was signed by President Vladimir Putin. This is the first time in the almost 30-year history of the Russian Federation that an explanation of Russia’s nuclear warfighting policy has been made public.
The relatively short, six-page document sets out a series of blunt messages designed to impress on its potential enemies just where Russia stands. While it considers nuclear weapons ‘exclusively as a means of deterrence’ and characterises their use as ‘an extreme and compelled measure’, this official declaration sets out in some detail the conditions that could trigger nuclear conflict.
The clear messages are ‘the inevitability of retaliation’ in the event of nuclear attack on Russia and that Russia intends to maintain forces capable of inflicting ‘guaranteed unacceptable damage’ on a potential adversary. Precisely what such unacceptable damage might involve is not spelled out, but in the Cold War it implied that the enemy would cease to exist as a modern functioning society.
The main military risks that might evolve into direct military threats to Russia are identified as:
Most importantly, this document sets out publicly for the first time the situations in which Russia would contemplate using nuclear weapons as follows:
The executive order also notes that the decision to use nuclear weapons is taken by the president of Russia, who might, if necessary, inform the leadership of other states and international organisations about Russia’s readiness to use nuclear weapons or about the decision taken to use nuclear weapons, as well as about the fact that nuclear weapons have been used.
This Russian statement presents welcome areas of clarification. But some of them are distinctly worrying: especially the clause that confirms Russia’s declaratory nuclear doctrine is one of launch on warning. This has always been recognised as a very risky concept because it is crucially dependent upon early warning systems not malfunctioning, which might not be a dependable basis on which to go to nuclear war.
Nuclear attack indicators are likely to face even shorter warning times in the future with the deployment of hypersonic manoeuvrable glide vehicles, as well as such devices as directed-energy weapons. Strategic warning is already being complicated by the deployment by the US of prompt global strike ballistic missiles with conventional warheads, which makes the task of differentiating between conventional and nuclear armed intercontinental ballistic missiles in a crisis practically impossible.
The other issue of concern surrounds Russia’s declaratory policy that it will consider using nuclear weapons against a conventional attack ‘when the very existence of the state is in jeopardy’. This is the so-called escalate to de-escalate element of Russian nuclear strategy involving the threatened use of tactical nuclear weapons against an overwhelming NATO conventional attack. This, of course, is the mirror image of NATO’s own Cold War nuclear policy of deterring an overwhelming Russian conventional attack on Europe. An interesting question here is what constitutes Russian territory, given Putin’s attitudes to what he terms ‘the near abroad’—the territories of former Soviet republics, such as the Baltic countries, where there are large numbers of ethnic Russians.
It is probably not a coincidence that the release by Moscow of this unprecedented public document about Russia’s nuclear deterrence policy and its war-fighting implications comes at a time of the complete breakdown in talks between the US and Russia about nuclear arms control and verification. Both sides have stopped talking to each other about this central issue to global nuclear security. By comparison, in the Cold War, crucial nuclear arms control treaties were signed and resulted in agreed verification and inspection measures that were quite intrusive.
Now, such important arms control treaties as the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty, the Intermediate Nuclear Forces Treaty, and the Treaty on Open Skies have all been terminated by the US, in 2011, 2019 and 2020, respectively. In addition, New START, the treaty between the US and Russia that limits each side to 1,500 deployed nuclear warheads (although both have total deployed and non-deployed nuclear warheads in excess of 6,000 each), is due for extension early next year.
Washington is insisting that China be included in any such strategic nuclear treaty, but China has resolutely refused. The bets are that New START also will be terminated, especially if President Donald Trump is re-elected. That would herald the way to a full-blown strategic nuclear arms race.
Russia is not synonymous with President Vladimir Putin, or with his United Russia party, or with Yevgeny Prigozhin, the head of a private military company carrying out the Kremlin’s wishes in Syria and eastern Ukraine. Rather, Russia is embodied by its 146 million citizens, most of whom just want to live in a civilised world, and in a country where freedom and human rights are respected and upheld by credible independent institutions.
The real voice of Russia often goes unheard, both within the country and abroad. Outside observers might think that the current government has the support of the population. But it isn’t so. The mass protests in Moscow and other cities in 2019 show that while formal power remains in the hands of Putin and his party, Russians are ready to assert their rights and demand democracy.
On the world stage, Putin falsely claims to wage his hybrid wars in our name. Yet there’s never any formal declaration of war. And the Kremlin consistently denies that it is conducting military operations in Ukraine, because it knows that the Russian military’s presence in Donbas and Crimea is illegal.
The Putin regime itself can be understood as a hybrid. Formally, Russia has a constitution that guarantees the rule of law, upholds the separation of powers, establishes an independent judiciary, and vests ultimate authority in the people. But, in reality, the Russian people have no influence over the authorities; all branches of government answer to Putin and his inner circle.
Likewise, while Russia holds formal elections, political representatives at the federal and regional levels are selected by the regime. And at the local level, decisions are made by regional governors, who are ultimately dependent on the central administration. Whenever necessary, the regime resorts to various methods to prevent genuine competition in elections: barring opposition candidates from standing, blocking media coverage of opposition campaigns, and engaging in outright election fraud.
Consider the case of the anti-corruption lawyer Alexei Navalny. In March 2018, Navalny was the effective leader of Russia’s democratic opposition, but he was prevented from running for president, and Putin easily clinched re-election in a field of Kremlin-picked candidates.
But in regional elections later that year, a massive protest vote signalled Russians’ dissatisfaction with the regime. Many of United Russia’s gubernatorial candidates—particularly those who had been pictured shaking Putin’s hand before election day—were trounced, despite having had all of the administrative and propaganda resources of the state on their side. In Vladimir Oblast, the incumbent, Svetlana Orlova of United Russia, lost to Vladimir Sipyagin of the Liberal Democratic Party. When asked by journalists why they had voted as they did, many people answered that they didn’t even know Sipyagin; they just wanted ‘anyone but Orlova’.
In 2019, the authorities ‘corrected’ their previous electoral ‘mistakes’ by simply banning pro-democracy opposition candidates in particularly difficult regions. In some cases, even ‘pocket’ opposition candidates (those from parties with seats in the Duma who run with the Kremlin’s tacit imprimatur) were banned, including in remote regions such as Transbaikal. Nonetheless, in elections to the legislative assembly for Khabarovsk Territory, where pocket candidates were still allowed, the Liberal Democratic Party won out over United Russia.
I myself ran in elections to the Moscow City Duma, in which independent, democratically selected candidates were barred from running on the basis of absurd trumped-up charges, such as allegations of forging petition signatures to qualify for the ballot. In fact, we had significant support from our constituencies, and we appealed these illegal decisions in the courts. But, because the judiciary, too, is under the Kremlin’s heel, justice wasn’t served. Having been denied their choice of elected representatives, Muscovites by the tens of thousands took to the streets.
The authorities reacted to these protests with a wave of repression, detaining several thousand people and filing criminal charges against pro-democracy groups. Night searches were carried out in our houses, and dozens of people were jailed. The independent Anti-Corruption Foundation was declared to be a foreign agent, and our bank accounts were frozen. In late July, Navalny was poisoned with an unknown substance while under a 30-day administrative detention.
Putin was so scared of the Moscow elections that he deployed the full power of the courts, police, prosecutors, the Ministry of Justice, Roskomnadzor (the official censorship body) and other resources to derail the democratic opposition. The reason for this full-court press is obvious: an opposition victory in the capital would have destroyed the myth that Russians actually support Putin and his party, and that the democratic opposition represents just a small share of the population.
Putin has come to rely heavily on this myth, long a staple of state propaganda at home and abroad. Free and fair elections in Moscow would have given the lie to his claim to legitimacy, and the other regions across Russia would have taken note of what was happening in the capital.
The Kremlin could not permit such a dangerous precedent. Putin wants the world to think that he represents the Russian people. But there can be no more compelling evidence that his power rests on a lie than his violent crackdown on Russians who are demanding that their representatives be allowed to put that power to the test in free and fair elections.
The Kremlin is on a roll. Under President Vladimir Putin, Russia has replaced the United States in Syria, continues to intervene in Eastern Ukraine, and recently hosted an African summit in Sochi. Appearances, however, can be deceiving. True, Russia retains a vast nuclear arsenal, equal in size to that of the US, and it used force effectively against Georgia in 2008 and Ukraine in 2014, provided military assistance to save Bashar al-Assad’s regime in Syria, and has used cyber means to disrupt US and other elections. But Russia can only be an international spoiler. Behind the adventurism, it is a country in decline.
In 1959, the Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev famously boasted that the Soviet Union would overtake the US by 1970 or 1980. Instead, in 1991, the Soviet Union collapsed, leaving a significantly shrunken Russia, with three-quarters of the USSR’s territory, half its population, half its economy and one-third of its military personnel. Its GDP is only US$1.7 trillion, compared with US$21 trillion for the United States. In 1989, the Soviet economy was twice the size of China’s; today, Russia’s GDP is one-seventh that of China. Moreover, Russia is heavily dependent on energy exports; high-tech products account for only 11% of its manufactured exports (compared with 19% for the US).
While language, history and labour migration provide Russia with some soft power in its near-abroad, few foreigners elsewhere watch Russian films, and Russian universities aren’t ranked among the global top 100. The political institutions for an effective market economy are largely missing, and robber-baron state capitalism lacks the kind of effective regulation that creates trust. The public health system is weak, and average Russian life expectancy, at 72 (male and female), is five years shorter than in Europe. United Nations demographers project that Russia’s population may decline from 145 million today to 121 million by mid-century.
Many futures are possible, but at this point, Russia is a ‘one-crop economy’ with corrupt institutions and serious demographic and health problems. Former President Dmitri Medvedev laid out plans to surmount them, but little was implemented and pervasive corruption has made modernisation difficult. While Putin has been a successful tactician in restoring Russia’s presence on the world stage, he has not been a skilful strategist in addressing the country’s long-term problems.
One of Putin’s successful tactical manoeuvres has been an alignment with China. After incurring Western sanctions for his attack on Ukraine, Putin declared China ‘our key strategic partner’. In return, President Xi Jinping declared Putin ‘my best friend and colleague’.
Traditional balance-of-power politics would predict such a response to US power. In the 1950s, China and the Soviet Union were allied against the US. After Nixon’s opening to China in 1972, the US and China cooperated to limit Soviet power. That alignment ended with the collapse of the Soviet Union. In 1992, Russia and China declared their relations a ‘constructive partnership’. That became a ‘strategic partnership’ in 1996, and in July 2001 they signed a treaty of ‘friendship and cooperation’. They have cooperated closely in the UN Security Council, taken similar positions on international control of the internet, and used various diplomatic frameworks such as the BRICS grouping and the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation to coordinate positions. They now share non-nuclear military technology and conduct serous joint exercises.
Nonetheless, there are serious obstacles to a close Sino-Russian alliance that goes much beyond tactical coordination. Residual mistrust persists. In the 19th century, no country took more land from China than Russia did, and the current demographic situation in the Far East—where Russians number 6 million, and the population on the Chinese side of the border is up to 120 million—is a source of anxiety in Moscow.
Russia’s economic decline has increased its concern about the rise of China. While trade has increased, investment lags, and Russia ranks only 10th among China’s export markets. As The Economist recently reported, Russia worries about becoming the alliance’s junior partner—more dependent on China than China is on Russia. According to Feng Yujun of Fudan University, ‘The most important relationship for us is the one with America. We don’t want to repeat the mistakes of Stalin and Mao.’
America, however, must not take comfort in the decline of Russia and treat it like a second-rate power. After all, declining powers tend to be less risk-averse, as was true of Austria–Hungary in 1914. They have less to lose than rising powers. Russia still poses a potential threat to the US, largely because it’s the one country with enough missiles and nuclear warheads to destroy it. And Russia’s relative decline has made it more reluctant to renounce its nuclear status.
Even a declining Russia possesses enormous scale, an educated population, skilled scientists and engineers, and vast natural resources. It seems unlikely that Russia will again possess the resources to balance US power in the same way that the Soviet Union did during the four decades after World War II. But, because of its residual nuclear strength, its oil and gas, its skills in cyber technology, its proximity to Europe and the potential of its alliance with China, Russia will have the ability to cause problems for the US, and Putin’s reliance on populist nationalism provides an incentive. Declining powers merit as much diplomatic attention as rising ones do. At some point after President Donald Trump leaves office, the US will need to develop the serious Russia strategy that it now lacks.
During Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin’s joint press conference following the summit, the Russian president proposed that special counsel Robert Mueller use the 1999 US–Russia Mutual Legal Assistance Treaty to make a formal request for Russian investigative assistance in the charges against 12 current Russian intelligence officers for interference in the 2016 US elections.
Specifically, he said that if a formal request was approved, Mueller’s team could even be present for any interviews conducted by Russian law enforcement. But he also attached a condition that Russia be allowed to investigate and interrogate American law enforcement and intelligence officials in the US—presumably on the election interference claim and unrelated politically based complaints that Russia has against a British citizen and former US officials.
Trump, apparently without any consultation with his law enforcement or security experts, declared this to be ‘an incredible offer’. It’s not.
I agree with many who have said that it wasn’t really a serious offer by Putin, but rather was political posturing or, perhaps, messaging. However, assuming for a moment that it was in any way a serious offer, it certainly did not merit serious consideration.
Mutual legal assistance treaties (MLATs) can be a valuable law-enforcement tool for formally requesting and receiving evidence and other investigative assistance between countries. Yet, particularly in the digital age, they are often an imperfect tool, requiring compliance with elaborate formal procedures, including the packaging of evidence justifying the request. It can take many months or over a year to actually produce any evidence. And that’s in the best of cases, when the interests of the two countries are aligned, and there’s trust between them. There’s little current alignment or trust with Russia.
In my experience as a longtime federal cybercrime prosecutor and later diplomat, the MLAT process on cybercrime cases with Russia was extremely difficult and, with few exceptions, largely ineffectual. Requests would often go completely unanswered. Sometimes they would become the platform for seemingly endless requests for more information, or the subjects of the requests would simply disappear. That led to speculation that the subjects of the requests were acting as proxies of the government, or at least were acting with some official or unofficial protection.
Many believed that the most talented hackers had been recruited by the government once they had been identified by US or other law enforcement agencies. The long list of unfulfilled MLAT requests from both sides became a regular issue in bilateral discussions, including the high-level bilateral cybersecurity discussions I helped lead with Russia—back when we had those dialogues before they were suspended after Russia’s incursion into Ukraine.
Partly in response to the lack of any meaningful cooperation in a number of cybercrime cases originating from Russia, the US began indicting Russia-based hackers and arresting them in third countries. That drew repeated protests from Russia, which wanted all evidence sent to Moscow so that any Russian defendants could be charged and prosecuted there—though given their track record, there was little reason to believe they would take action.
Of course, in many ways, this is all beside the point because, in this case, members of the Russian intelligence service acting on behalf of the Russian government are the defendants. In my many years as a prosecutor, the number of cases I jointly investigated with the defendants was, not surprisingly, zero.
Even if the MLAT process with Russia were a model of cooperation and efficiency, it makes little sense to ask the Russian government to investigate itself and hope that would yield any useful information. Even if US investigators were allowed to be present when Russian officials questioned their colleagues, it’s hard to believe it would be anything other than an elaborate stage play.
Moreover, it is clear from the indictment that Mueller already has a wealth of information and evidence and doesn’t need to engage in this process for the unlikely prospect of getting more. While the US would gain nothing, the Russians would gain legitimacy and shift blame—seeming to partner with the Americans to find the ‘real’ perpetrators while declaring their innocence (a strange echo of the O.J. Simpson defence).
Indeed, this is Moscow’s attempted standard operating procedure in a host of recent events in which it has been implicated. The Russians offered to do a joint investigation with the Dutch into the shooting down of MH17, which was refused. They offered to do a joint investigation with the United Kingdom into the Salisbury poisonings, which was also refused.
It is also important here that the indictment charges not only state actors but also state intelligence operatives and lays bare their actions and identities with striking precision. It’s a sure bet that the Russian government wants to know how its tradecraft and operatives were so thoroughly exposed. A joint investigation, or use of an MLAT that may require disclosure of the evidence underlying the indictment, would give Russian intelligence insight into the investigative sources and methods used to uncover their operatives and activities.
Putin made an additional play for this kind of information during the press conference when he suggested that ‘any specific material [related to election interference] if such things arise, we are ready to analyse together. For instance, we can analyse them through the joint working group on cybersecurity, the establishment of which we discussed during our previous contacts’.
Whatever the fate of some future possible working group, such a platform is not an appropriate place for sharing investigative information and it would be a mistake to do so. Although the indictment goes into great detail, the evidence and methods for discovering Russian intelligence activity have not been released and disclosure would only aid Moscow in concealing future activities. None of this inures to the benefit of the United States or its future ability to repel and respond to future attacks.
Finally, there’s another reason to reject this ‘incredible offer’ out of hand. Putin’s pre-condition of a quid pro quo is unacceptable. His request, expressly involving long-time Putin foe William Browder, and now apparently including former US ambassador to Russia Michael McFaul, appears to be based on conjecture and politically motivated. Indeed, Interpol has consistently refused to issue ‘red’ notices (which allow international arrests of fugitives) for Browder because it has found that his prosecution by Russia is a political matter.
MLAT requests are evaluated on their individual merits, requiring evidence of an actual crime that would be a crime in both Russia and the US. The MLAT with Russia excludes political crimes. There’s no reason that the US should subject American citizens or others to a politically motivated Russian investigation. In addition, subjecting a former US ambassador to politically motivated questioning by the country in which he served creates a dangerous precedent and rightfully drew bipartisan scorn. It is amazing that the White House said they were still considering such an arrangement. Thankfully, they finally turned it down, though after far more consideration than it deserved.
Donald Trump is now expected to hold a summit meeting with Vladimir Putin possibly as early as next month. His self-assessment of the success of his meeting with Kim Jung-un is probably a factor. President Putin has said that he’d be open to a meeting ‘whenever Washington is ready for such a summit’. Trump’s presence at the upcoming NATO gathering in Brussels over 11–12 July might provide a good opportunity for the summit meeting, which could be held in Vienna or Helsinki. There are many important issues that would under normal circumstances warrant such a summit.
Summits are generally arranged to address problems in bilateral relations that only national leaders have the authority to resolve, or common threats to their security that require an agreement on the way forward at the highest level. In the 23 Cold War–era summits between 1953 and 1991, US presidents and Soviet leaders dealt with issues ranging from German reunification and proxy wars to nuclear and chemical arms control—all against the background of potential nuclear conflict.
It’s easy to see why Trump met with Kim. North Korea’s prospects were bleak under sustained sanctions and the accelerating economic gap with the South would eventually have undermined the Kim regime. The US faced an unpredictable nuclear-armed state with a growing capability to target the US mainland. The Trump administration’s security and defence policy documents outline a more dire threat from Russia.
The US sees Russia’s international activities being designed ‘to shape a world antithetical to US values and interests’ and ‘to undermine the legitimacy of democracies’. The December 2017 US National Security Strategy also declares, ‘Russia is using subversive measures to weaken the credibility of America’s commitment to Europe, undermine transatlantic unity, and weaken European institutions and governments.’
Moreover, the Trump administration says that Russia ‘interferes in the domestic political affairs of countries around the world’. Russia’s ‘ambition and growing military capabilities’ are creating ‘an unstable frontier in Eurasia, where the risk of conflict due to Russian miscalculation is growing’. Through its invasions of Georgia and Ukraine, Russia ‘demonstrated its willingness to violate the sovereignty of states in the region’.
The 2018 US National Defense Strategy claims that Russia aims ‘to shape a world’ consistent with its ‘authoritarian mode’ and that it ‘pursues veto power over the economic, diplomatic, and security decisions of its neighbours’. Defense Secretary Jim Mattis depicts an ideological struggle where Putin desires to ‘diminish the appeal of the western democratic model’ and ‘undermine America’s moral authority’. All very disquieting for the Americans.
Among other topics Trump could explore is the Russia–China relationship. The NSS labels the two states as strategic competitors of the US, noting that ‘China and Russia aspire to project power worldwide’. Indeed, Russia’s growing closeness with China, especially in the context of the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation, is of geopolitical concern to many observers.
This SCO bloc now includes India and Pakistan as well as the Central Asian ’stans. Iran and Mongolia have observer status. Its membership now covers the Eurasian continent from the Pacific to the Black Sea and the Eastern border of Europe, plus South and West Asia. Bolstered by China’s Belt and Road Initiative, it is an emerging geostrategic presence that’s committed to, among other things, ‘practical interaction in the political, security, trade and economic areas’. Given the pace of geopolitical transition, the US president should be trying to gauge the ambitions of this organisation.
In normal times and under previous administrations, these alarming assessments—which the presumably the administration accepts—would be sufficient for a president to want to personally confront a counterpart and make clear that this behaviour can’t continue. Any former president would make clear to Putin that Russia’s foreign policy aims and its strategic objectives, as understood in these policy documents, are inimical to the US and its allies and therefore unacceptable.
However, the prospect of a Trump–Putin summit comes with a number of apprehensions. Foremost must be the capacity of Trump to conduct such complex business with the experienced, subtle and capable Putin. The Russian president has flagged that he wishes to discuss the ‘renewed arms race’, a subject in whose details he is undoubtedly steeped.
Trump’s inability to speak on complex issues in a coherent, connected and logical way has been patently clear over his time in office. Even if he did comprehend the ins and outs of the issues, his clumsy syntax and limited vocabulary would test any interpreter over an extended period. The geopolitical, strategic and security issues that might come up between Putin and Trump will be technical and complex with broad implications.
Also worrying, especially for the US’s European allies, will be Trump’s utterances on the justification of Russia’s annexation of Crimea on the basis of linguistic affinity, and his expressed desire for Russia to be readmitted to international forums before any withdrawal from the Ukraine.
What he might concede to Putin inadvertently through ignorance, incompetence or lack of preparation is frightening. Furthermore, Trump’s predilection for playing to his domestic political base could mean that he’ll be more focused on leveraging the outcomes of the meeting to discredit the Mueller investigation.
In modern times, a number of US presidents—Roosevelt, Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan and George H.W. Bush—have employed summits to manage strategic relations with their Russian counterparts. Between them they managed to avoid a conventional war in Europe, prevent global nuclear war, and shape much of the contemporary world.
It remains to be seen what the current president might achieve. But the contemporary interests of the NATO allies that stood with the US through those years may not command his attention at any summit.
Vladimir Putin’s re-election to a fourth term as Russia’s president was a foregone conclusion. The Kremlin undoubtedly orchestrated ballot-box stuffing and other measures to ensure that Putin received at least 70% of the vote across all regions. Yet, even without such shenanigans, Putin probably still would have cruised to victory on the nationalist wave created by his 2014 annexation of Crimea.
Less predictable than the election outcome is Putin’s policy agenda for the next six years. The Russian economy is showing some signs of improvement, but growth remains far weaker than in the boom years of Putin’s first years in power. At the same time, the diplomatic divide between Russia and the West continues to widen.
Putin has assembled competing teams of economists to draft policy proposals for the coming years, but few observers expect genuine reforms to follow. The economy’s long-term prospects will remain dim as long as the security state maintains its hold on Russian businesses and society.
Moreover, it is hard to see how Russia can improve its economy without first improving its relations with the West. The investments needed to boost growth are being held back by Russia’s limited access to key technologies and global financial markets, and by sanctions on Russian companies and oligarchs close to Putin.
Putin apparently believed that the West’s reaction to his aggression in Ukraine would be short-lived, as it was after Russia’s military intervention in Georgia in 2008. When that turned out not to be the case, and Western sanctions became increasingly painful, the Kremlin began seeking investment and trade opportunities with China.
But the Kremlin’s hope of a deeper partnership with China was dashed when Chinese President Xi Jinping invited US President Donald Trump to a state dinner in Beijing’s Forbidden City—an honour never extended to a Soviet or Russian leader. Likewise, the prospect of warmer ties with the US has gone up in smoke, owing to revelations of Russian meddling in the US 2016 election.
The Kremlin also failed to predict events in Ukraine. Despite Russian incursions into Eastern Ukraine, the Ukrainian government did not collapse. Rather, it pursued reforms and concluded an association agreement with the European Union.
Finally, in Syria, Putin has proclaimed ‘Mission accomplished’ time and again, yet Russian mercenaries on the ground there keep dying. To be sure, Russia has been able to test new military hardware while shoring up Syrian President Bashar al-Assad’s regime. But peace and stability are still nowhere in sight.
Trying to exude confidence in his annual address to the Federal Assembly this month, Putin nonetheless revealed his fears about the future. For example, his promise of economic growth was familiar, but he was far more explicit than usual in warning that Russia could fall behind other countries. ‘The speed of technological progress is accelerating sharply,’ he observed. ‘Those who manage to ride this technological wave will surge far ahead. Those who fail to do this will be submerged and drown in this wave.’ There can be little doubt that Russia currently risks drowning.
Similarly, Putin devoted the bulk of his speech to a multimedia show of sophisticated new strategic weapons: super-heavy intercontinental ballistic missiles, hypersonic strategic attack weapons, gigantic futuristic underwater torpedoes and nuclear-powered cruise missiles with unlimited range. But in his attempt to prove that Russia can overcome any new strategic defence measures the US might put in place, Putin betrayed his fear that Russia’s strategic nuclear arsenal could be rendered irrelevant.
Aside from Russia’s nuclear arsenal and the veto power that it enjoys as a permanent member of the United Nations Security Council, its foundation of strategic influence is weak. Even after adjusting for differences in purchasing power, Russia’s economy is closer in size to Italy’s. If Putin is serious about sustaining a strategic arms race with the US, he will have to force significant sacrifices on other key economic sectors—and a lower standard of living on ordinary Russians.
On the other hand, Putin recently expressed openness to deploying a UN peacekeeping mission in Ukraine’s Donbas region. And it is possible that his gadget show was meant to underscore the need for more strategic arms control and open dialogue. If so, he chose an odd way to convey that message.
Even if Putin did want to open a dialogue with the West, one cannot ignore the nerve-agent attack on former Russian double agent Sergei Skripal and his daughter in Salisbury, England, this month. As with the 2006 polonium attack that killed Russian defector and former spy Alexander Litvinenko, the British government has concluded that the Kremlin ordered the operation against the Skripals.
Russian security agencies may have a ‘license to kill’ defectors with whatever sophisticated methods they can muster. But, like the polonium attack a decade ago, the first-time use of a sophisticated nerve agent, Novichok, did not go undetected, and the Kremlin is now resorting to a crude arsenal of lies and disinformation to try to hide its tracks. Needless to say, a regime that murders and lies is not an inviting partner for cooperation.
But this doesn’t make serious talks between the US and Russia any less necessary. Both countries are modernising their nuclear arsenals, and there is a real risk that new technologies could erode longstanding arms-control measures or render them obsolete.
The future of Putin’s extended reign is highly uncertain. Domestic reforms are not likely to be forthcoming, and the Kremlin’s unleashing of its security forces abroad has undermined the prospect of rapprochement with the West. While a new arms race would pose significant dangers for Russia—and for everyone else—it would also almost certainly bring the country to ruin, as the Soviet Union’s last leaders could no doubt attest.
Over 108 million voters are eligible to have their say in Russia’s presidential election on Sunday. As the outcome seems clear well in advance, many will focus on the voter turnout instead of speculating on the winner. The turnout will show how tired Russians are of being under the direct or indirect rule of the same man for 18 years. And it will show whether the main opposition leader, Alexey Navalny—who was barred from running—was successful in convincing his fellow citizens to boycott the election.
The golden number (from Vladimir Putin’s viewpoint) is 70: 70% of all eligible Russians casting a ballot, with 70% of them putting Vlad first. For the first time, the current president is standing as an independent candidate rather than running for the United Russia party. He seems confident enough that he’s not really bothered campaigning much. Should the holy grail of 70/70 be reached on Sunday, the Kremlin will be happy, and will claim that it confirms Russians’ backing of Putin’s policies.
But the Russian populace isn’t interested in politics—not surprisingly, with the same program on repeat since 2000. Just 47% of the country’s eligible voters trotted out to the 2016 parliamentary elections. Participation in major cities was particularly low. For example, only 28% of eligible Muscovites bothered to vote.
The voters haven’t forgotten the street protests following the 2012 presidential election, when hundreds of thousands of Russians voiced their discontent with the government and questioned the legitimacy of the election. They also remember the Kremlin’s crackdown in response.
Putin’s administration would prefer not to repeat 2012 and is trying to create a different image. It’s especially cautious about rigging the turnout. Consequently, volunteers are in the streets trying to convince as many Russians as possible to vote on Sunday, preferably for the current occupant of the Kremlin. They’ve been getting creative, including offering free iPhones for the best polling-station selfies.
To help create an image of ‘fair and democratic’ elections, the administration allowed seven other candidates to appear on the ballot—similar to prior elections. But the fact that state-owned pollsters ascribe support of less than 10% to some of these other candidates speaks volumes.
In the run-up to Sunday’s elections, Russians saw new candidates enter the race and (many) others drop out. The drop-outs included journalist Yekaterina Gordon and Gennady Zyuganov, the long-time leader of Russia’s Communist Party. In a surprise move, Zyuganov was replaced by Pavel Grudinin, the CEO of the Lenin Sovkhoz farm. He’s a businessman, a capitalist who allegedly has millions of roubles in foreign bank accounts, and a former member of United Russia.
He offers his experience from his business enterprises to appeal to the party’s supporters, with a platform of economic success benefitting the people, a focus on rural areas, more money for children, families and pensioners, fighting oligarchs, and ensuring affordable housing.
Vladimir Zhirinovsky, something of an institution in Russian politics and sometimes referred to as the ‘Russian Trump’, is the far-right nationalist Liberal Democratic Party candidate. He advocates for imperial symbols and a return to the Russian borders of 1985. Other than that, his program is all over the place, including limiting migration, fighting obesity, offering free health care, a minimum wage and a state-regulated economy.
Then there’s Maksim Suraikin, the leader and candidate of the Communists of Russia party. A Stalin fan and would-be restorer of the Soviet Union, he criticised Grudinin’s nomination as a business man unfit to be the Communist Party’s candidate.
The Russian All-People’s Union candidate, Sergey Baburin, has a nine-point plan, including calls for government reform and more authoritarian rule (!), strengthened border controls and controlled immigration.
There are liberals (by Russian standards) too, such as Ksenia Sobchak, the only female candidate and much younger than most of the field. The 36-year-old socialite and TV anchor is the daughter of the first democratically elected mayor of St Petersburg, the late Anatoly Sobchak, and Putin’s mentor until his death. Because of that, many question Sobchak’s independence and see her as a tool put in place by the Kremlin, which she denies. Her campaign line is running ‘against all’—all of the other candidates and everything that previous politics stands for. Her positions have a very liberal touch, including LGBTIQ rights.
Finally, there are a couple of candidates with economic platforms. Boris Titov, a politics newcomer for the Party of Growth, is a businessman, who targets corporate leaders and advocates for a free market economy. Grigory Yavlinsky, the Jabloko (Apple) party candidate, is an economist with a program strongly focussed on economics.
Earlier this month, Putin gave his state-of-the-nation address (see commentary by Paul Dibb and Michael Shoebridge), which was also somewhat of an election pitch. He showed what Russians voting for him (and the rest of the world) could expect for the next six years, regardless of how many turn up on Sunday. A 70/70 result would just boost his confidence.
Russian President Vladimir Putin’s 1 March 2018 speech to the Russian parliament wasn’t about new nuclear weapons or about the United States. I know that sounds remarkable given international reporting on it.
Putin certainly spent considerable time describing a series of new weapons. He waxed long and lyrically on the United States’ alleged resolute pursuit of ballistic missile defences that would undercut Russia’s nuclear arsenal. He then unveiled the weapons that ‘thousands of our experts, outstanding scientists, designers, engineers, passionate and talented workers have been working on for years, quietly, humbly, selflessly, with total dedication’.
Paul Dibb has given an excellent description of these weapons, their potential capabilities and Russian military doctrine for their use, so I needn’t repeat any of that here.
President Putin knows that US missile defence systems can’t defend against Russia’s nuclear arsenal. He knows that existing intercontinental nuclear ballistic missiles with multiple, manoeuvring warheads—launched in numbers—will overwhelm current and projected US missile defences. He knows, similarly, that Russia can’t defend itself against the US nuclear arsenal. That’s the point of nuclear deterrence. So, what was his speech about?
Putin’s speech was about Russia falling behind the rate of change in the world. This creates a civilisational-scale challenge that Russia will fail unless it makes major changes.
His central theme is that Russia’s future economic and societal health and stability is at risk:
[T]he speed of technological change is accelerating sharply. It is rising dramatically. Those who ride this technological wave will surge far ahead. Those who fail to do this will be submerged and drown in this wave … Technological lag and dependence translate into reduced security and economic opportunities of the country, and, ultimately, the loss of its sovereignty. This is the way things stand now.
Most starkly, ‘[i]t is not a question of someone conquering or devastating our land. No, that is not the danger. The main threat and our main enemy is the fact that we are falling behind.’
His speech puts a positive gloss on multiple problem areas, channelling an old election line from Tony Blair: ‘We have come so far, but we still have so far to travel.’
Throughout, the Russian president used statistics from the low point after the Soviet Union’s fall to show how much he had achieved since then. This provides a patina of progress to cover the enormous gaps in Russia’s healthcare, infrastructure, industrial base, energy grid, rail system and city infrastructures, as well as ongoing problems like corruption. His speech recognises that these gaps show that Putin’s isn’t delivering the quality of life or the prosperity the Russian people want.
But post-Soviet stats only go so far. To note two of the many challenges Putin mentions: 20 million of Russia’s 144 million people still live in poverty, and Russian GDP would have to grow by 50% by 2025 to fund Putin’s commitments.
This is what made the new weaponry so important. Putin used the weapons as tangible demonstrations that Russia has the scientific, engineering and technical capacity—and the skilled people and knowledge—to achieve ‘genuine breakthroughs’. His logic is that ‘if we can do this with these amazing weapons, we can make similar breakthroughs in medicine, healthcare, digitised industry, and reinvent Russian cities and towns’.
The problem isn’t that some of these weapons may actually not exist or only be in early development. The problem President Putin faces is that the massive transformation he says is required across the Russian economy, government and society require money for investment that Russia doesn’t have, and skilled people in numbers that Russia doesn’t have.
Putin’s speech reveals the pressures and ambitions that drive him. Read properly, in the context of recent Russian decisions and actions, it’s quite revealing.
Its reception in Western media has shown that the sensational trumps the important in our news, and that Putin has an unerring ability to play the international media.
Putin’s mastery of international media is part of the larger phenomenon that is Russia today. As his speech reveals, Russia’s economy is stagnant, but mathematics, science and technology research in the defence sector are strong—because they’ve been protected and prioritised during the time of Russia’s economic weakness. Putin’s intent seems to be to use Russian strengths to re-establish Russia’s power and influence in the world, but in a novel way.
The Russian military used hybrid warfare in Crimea and in Ukraine. Putin seems a leader who will use the combination of military power, cyber power and media management in ways that surprise and disconcert Russia’s adversaries. He’s a hybrid leader.
As Russia struggles to deliver on the domestic challenges he recognises, we can be pretty sure Putin will use Russian power and its role in international affairs to distract the Russian people and to stoke their pride in their great and historic civilisation.