Iver B. Neumann
Russia and the Idea of Europe: A Study in Identity and International
Relations
Conclusion
Iver B. Neumann. Russia and the Idea of Europe: A Study
in Identity and International Relations. London and New York:
Routledge, 1996. 253 p.
ISBN 0415113709

Neumann @ Amazon.com
The book outlines the Russian debate about Europe as it has unfolded
over the last two hundred years and demonstrates how - despite
enormous changes in setting - the debate has nevertheless turned
around a tightly limited number of ideas. The author demonstrates
how this debate is central to the current Russian political situation.
Conclusion
The Russian debate about Europe has focussed on
a tightly limited number of questions, which has been answered
by a very limited number of ideas. The preceding chapters have
demonstrated how these ideas have been generated and transformed
by one another within a public political space controlled by the
Russian state. In discussing Europe, the Russians have also clearly
been discussing themselves, and so the debate is an example of
how Russians have talked themselves into existence.
Having spent the eighteenth century copying contemporary
European models, the Russian state went on to offer its citizens
two different models to identify with. During the nineteenth century,
the Russian state represented itself as 'true Europe' in a situation
where the rest of Europe had failed the best in its own tradition
by turning away from the past values of the anciens rйgimes.
During the twentieth century, the Russian state represented itself
as 'true Europe' in a situation where the rest of Europe had failed
the best in its own tradition by not turning to the future values
of socialism.
What will be the position of the state in the Russian
debate about Europe at the threshold of the twenty-first century?
There always exists the possibility that some entirely new idea
will appear and be adopted by the state - perhaps as a reaction
to some unexpected new development in Europe. It seems highly
likely, however, that such a new idea would have its roots in
European thinking. This prediction is made bearing in mind that
all the participants in the debate have drawn on European
ideas to forge their own. Where the constitutionalists and, later,
the liberals are concerned, they always acknowledged their intellectual
debt to Europe. Yet the romantic nationalists as well as other
positions which are not for the time being present in the debate
- like populists and Bolsheviks - and who frequently protested
their independence of European thinking, were nevertheless also
deeply indebted to it. It was demonstrated above how the early
romantic nationalists adopted German romantic national thinking
to their own ends, how the populists paid homage to European thinkers,
and how the Bolsheviks predicated their ideas on European ones.
When a contemporary anti-modern romantic nationalist like Solzhenitsyn
rails against Western civilisation, he does so within European
literary genres like the novel and the essay, availing himself
of European-developed media like the newspaper, in a public debate
upheld by conventions developed in Europe, in a formal language
with its roots in Europe, availing himself of linguistic archaisms
in the way pioneered by German romantic nationalists. In short,
it has always been the fate of Russians and others who have wanted
to forge a non-European, anti-hegemonic debate that such debates
cannot fail to maintain ties to Europe, if only inversely so,
because of the very fact that they are patterned as attempts to
negate the European debate, and therefore remain defined by it.
Given the incremental development of the debate
demonstrated above, however, it seems unlikely that some entirely
new idea will emerge and then be taken over by the state. It is
far more probable that the basic elements of the state's position
already exist somewhere in the bowels of the debate. If the above-standing
genealogy does not warrant specific predictions about the position
of the state, then it may be used to predict which ideas will
dominate the debate in the middle - and perhaps even in the long
- term (Wжver, Holm & Larsen, forthcoming). This may be done
by using the genealogy as a catalogue of the major frameworks,
moral assessments and ideas about the Russian relationship to
Europe which are in circulation at the present moment, and also
previous ideas which are only one step removed from ideas which
are already in circulation, and which can therefore easily be
reinserted into the debate. I sum up the debate by first summarising
the romantic nationalist position, then proceed to the liberal
position, and make comparisons and predictions as I go along.
One prediction can, however, be made immediately:
as the stigma of socialism left by the collapse the Soviet Union
and the Bolshevik position and the fascination of the liberal
position to westernisers start to taper off, some kind of social
democratic or socialist position will re-constitute itself. So
many of the ideas presented in the past by Russian socialists,
populists, Mensheviks and Bolsheviks retain their contemporary
relevance that it would indeed be remarkable if, for the first
time since the 1840s, the debate about Europe should be without
one or even two variants of a socialist position for much more
than a few years.
The romantic nationalist framework gives pride
of place to the organic nation, understood as a living being where
each part is dependent on the others, and where no basic conflict
of interest can therefore exist. The state is seen as the 'head'
of the organic nation, embodying its will, defining its interests
and defending it against harmful internal microbes and external
onslaughts. The well-being and good fortune of nation and state
are guaranteed by God or a functional equivalent thereof - for
example the course of history.
At the end of the Gorbachev period, a new alliance
between old Bolsheviks and romantic nationalists began to take
shape. The similarities between the frameworks of the old Bolshevik
position and the romantic nationalist position are such that it
takes little effort to latch some old Bolshevik ideas onto the
romantic nationalist position: If 'the party' is substituted for
'the nation' in the definition of the romantic nationalist framework
given above, then it reads like a definition of the old Bolshevik
framework. The Bolsheviks also set great store by the organic
tie between the party and the people, the absence of conflict
and the coincidence of interests: 'Plany partii - plany naroda'
- 'The plans of the party are the plans of the people' - was a
ubiquitous slogan in the old Soviet Union. And if most romantic
nationalists see God as supporting their position, then Bolsheviks
have always seen History as being on their side.
There exist empirical examples of what such variants
of romantic nationalism might look like in the Eurasianism and
smenovekhovstvo of the 1920s, and in the writings of Antonov
and others in Veche during the early 1970s. Whereas these
coteries were made up of romantic nationalists who had to accomodate
themselves to the limits of debate laid down by the Bolshevik
state, however, the new 'National Bolshevism' will be formulated
by old Bolsheviks who attempt to accomodate themselves to a romantic
nationalist position which is already in place, and which aspires
to become the state's position.
The romantic nationalist position incorporates
two different moral assessments of Europe, and it is the difference
in thinking at this level which defines the two variants of the
position - the xenophobic and the spiritual. Since there is no
clear-cut line either between the thinking of the two wings or
between its carriers, they must be considered parts of a continuum.
The most xenophobic elements see Europe as being clearly morally
inferior to Russia - an enemy at the gate with its tentacles inside
the living Russian nation. During the last two years, this variant
has almost crowded out the spiritual nationalists. Two other moral
assessments made by romantic nationalists have therefore been
marginalised: Pozdnyakov's drawing on Danilevskiy's that Europe
belongs to another civilisational type and therefore defies moral
classification by Russian criteria, and Likhachev's drawing on
Solov'ev's that Russia and Europe are moral equals.
Different proposals for the relationship between
Russia and Europe arise from the different moral assessments.
The xenophobic romantic nationalists stress defence or even a
national liberation struggle against Western 'occupation'. One
possible relationship which has once again begun to be spelled
out by Prokhanov and others, is Ustryalov's idea that Russia's
foreign policy must be unabashedly aggressive and imperialistic,
and that only a physically powerful state can possess a great
culture. Danilevskiy's and Trubetskoy's suggestion for all-out
war is only one move away from that. This idea may re-emerge when
the xenophobic romantic nationalists once again decide to go on
the offensive against the state, as they did in September 1993.
The marginalised views within the position, which may come back
to resuscitate the pluralism of the position, belong to Pozdnyakov
and Solzhenitsyn, who want to move in the direction of isolation
(although the latter also stress the aspect of Kulturkampf),
and Likhachev, who wants a spiritual partnership.
If the romantic nationalist framework stresses
nation, state and the harmony of interest between the two, then
the liberal framework stresses state, society, individual and
the possible conflict of interests between them. In order to keep
the always latent conflicts in check and secure a certain degree
of harmony, the state should be a Rechtsstaat, where -
to use Spinoza's classical formulation - the King's documents
should take precedence of the King's will. In other words, the
state should guarantee and implement a state of law where written,
non-retrospective rules regulate relations between as well as
within state and society. The latter should be a civil society,
that is, it should to some extent have an existence independent
of the state, in the economic as well as in other spheres. The
individuals constituting society should have rights guaranteed
by the Rechtsstaat, and should have the opportunity to
participate in the organisation of civil society.
The differences between the liberal and the romantic
nationalist frameworks have been much discussed by the participants
in the Russian debate. For example, romantic nationalists from
Odoevskiy, Shevyrev and especially Konstantin Aksakov to Shafarevich
have contrasted their own organic framework to the liberal mechanistic
framework. They have seen Russian political life as a struggle
between a harmonious Land which embodies their own ideal, and
a conflict-ridden city society which demonstrates the horrors
of the liberal ideal. When Shafarevich ridicules the multi-party
system as the guarantor of civil war, he applies a general romantic
nationalist critique of the liberal position and Europe to one
of its contemporary manifestations. In this way he also demonstrates
in what sense he and other romantic nationalists are warranted
in seeing Russian 'westernisers' - today represented by the liberal
position - as a 'westernised' and therefore alien element whose
political position dovetails with the one which is dominant in
Europe and the West.
Since the liberal and the romantic nationalist
frameworks are incompatible as to basic questions like the ontological
status of the individual and the state and the nature of the good
life, and since they - after two hundred years - show few signs
of dialectical potential, the debate about their relative merits
seems set to continue in the same tracks. As seen in the moral
assessments made by its xenophobic wing, however, the romantic
nationalist framework opens for a Gleichschaltung of the
nation whereby its organic character is attempted secured by rooting
out the carriers of the liberal position. Indeed, if there cannot
exist any basic conflict inside the nation and the liberals nevertheless
insist on perpetrating one, then they must constitute an illness
in the body politic. They should therefore be surgically removed
before they can contaminate the entire organism. If the xenophobic
wing of the romantic nationalists should succeed in their bid
to take over the state apparatus and should spell out this possible
implication of their position, it seems likely that they would
attempt to redefine public political space in such a way that
the romantic nationalist position would be the only position left
in the debate.
The liberal framework gives rise to an even more
tightly circumscribed set of moral assessments of Europe than
does the romantic nationalist framework. The romantic nationalist
framework allows for moral comparison to be based on different
criteria, and therefore opens for a shifting of the ground of
comparison in cases where Europe may be seen to be superior in
some fields, but not in others. The Russian debate about Europe
furnishes a number of examples of how romantic nationalists, when
confronted with the lower economic output, standard of living
or military capability of Russia as compared to Europe, have written
off such comparisons as insignificant compared to others. For
example, faced with the more efficient European economic model
of industrialisation, slavophiles insisted that Europe had paid
for it by its spiritual death, while Russians had retained a richer
spiritual life and were therefore morally superior to Europe.
Furthermore, slavophiles hinted that the greater European military
prowess was due to the inherently violent nature of European states,
while the Russian state was peace-loving by comparison and therefore
less effective militarily, but more advanced morally. An argument
similar to the former is made by Solzhenitsyn, who, following
the slavophiles and Dostoevskiy, argues that the Russians are
morally superior to people of the West because they have grown
spiritually as they have been faced with hardships such as communism,
which have not been present in the West. Shafarevich writes that
the West may be richer than Russia, but then again it is more
prone to economic crises. The two are at one in insisting that
Western economic models are morally inferior to their own vision
of a Russian old-style village economy because the latter is ecologically
sounder.
Liberals cannot shift the ground of moral comparison
in the same way: for them, the moral assessment unequivocally
rests on the degree in which the Rechtsstaat, civil society
and individual rights are in place and are functioning. Consequently,
Europe has always been regarded by liberals either as morally
superior to Russia if viewed synchronically, or as morally equal
to Russia if viewed diachronically. They tend to see Russia as
steadily developing along the same lines as Europe, and therefore
as being of a kind with it - practically as well as morally. The
proposed relationships with Europe are, therefore, those of partnership
or apprenticeship.
One classical formulation of this was made by Turgenev
when he - in refutation of Gertsen's insistence that Russia was
a cousin of Europe who had taken little part in the family chronicle
but whose rustic charms were fresher and more commendable than
those of her cousins - held that Russia was a girl no different
from her older European sisters, 'only a little broader in the
beam' (Turgenev, 1963: 65). The anthropomorphisation aside - that
was hardly out of character for an eighteenth century constitutionalist
but would, if only for its organic connotations, certainly have
been so for a contemporary liberal - this insistence that Russia
is just like Europe, only a little slower and a little less subtle,
was initially the assessment made by the Russian state under Yel'tsin's
leadership. The state took over the liberal position, and tended
to see Russia as an apprentice returning to European-based 'civilisation'.
This did not last long, however, before the idea
of apprenticeship had to give way to the idea of partnership.
The idea of apprenticeship was marginalised as most liberals and
also the state rooted their positions not only in a moral assessment
of Europe, but also of Asia: If it is true that the liberals cannot
shift the functional ground of moral comparison, they are
as free as are the romantic nationalists to change the geographical
ground of comparison. When Dostoevskiy wrote that 'In Europe we
were hangers-on and slaves, whereas we shall go to Asia as masters.
In Europe we were Asiatics, whereas in Asia we, too, are European.
Our civilizing mission in Asia will bribe our spirit and drive
us thither' (Dostoevskiy, 1954: 1048), it can be taken as a recommendation
to perform just such a change of the geographical ground of comparison.
And indeed, whereas Eurasianist romantic nationalists took up
this line of reasoning in the 1920s, today both romantic nationalists
and liberals are doing so, and always to circumvent comparisons
with Europe only.
Eurasianist liberals still want Russia to copy
European models, but they want it to proceed not at a breakneck
pace, and they want the debate about Europe to be complemented
by a debate about Asia, ostensibly so that Europe will not serve
as the only basis of comparison. In this way, comparisons with
neighbouring countries will not be so demoralising, and the chances
that Russia may keep up westernising reforms will increase. The
Eurasianist liberals respond to the dilemma formulated by Russian
liberals from Milyukov to Sakharov - that is, how to criticise
domestic opponents who are seen as non-European without compromising
Russia's Europeanness in the eyes of Europe itself - by refusing
to admit the dilemma and representing Eurasianism simply as a
necessary detour to further westernisation.
As noticed at the end of the preceding chapter,
however, the state's move from one variant of a liberal position
to another may not be enough to bring about the needed stable
configuration of political space. The state has proven too weak
to banish the romantic nationalists from the debate and keep its
own position unchanged. If the state is not to be taken over by
them, it must either accept the use of phisical force as a regular
technique to keep them from taking over, or it must steer towards
some middle ground in the debate. Since the romantic nationalist
and liberal positions do not seem to have much dialectical potential,
holding the middle ground may be tricky. Yet there exists a variant
of romantic nationalism which shares with the liberals a moral
assessment of Europe as equal with Russia. True, spiritual nationalism
is for the time being marginalised in the debate, and it does
not look more promising as a lasting state rhetoric than did the
liberal variant of seeing Russia as an apprentice to Europe. It
is therefore not obvious that the state's moving towards this
destination would be sustainable, or that it would dampen the
tension in the debate. The xenophobic nationalists may simply
be encouraged to renew their assaults on the states. Nevertheless,
if the state should decide to make a new move, a move in this
general direction seems most likely. In practical terms, the state
would then start dabbling in organic rhetoric, emphasising the
unity of people and state. It would emphasise the 'destiny' of
Russia in taking the practical and spiritual lead in the former
Soviet Union and the Balkan, as Europe's representative. National
pride would become a key concern. There would be an obvious tension
between the declared goal of acting as Europe's representative
in the traditional Russian sphere of interest on the one hand,
and maintaining good relations with Western Europe and the United
States on the other. This would spell the return of the dilemma
faced by tsarist Russia throughout the nineteenth century, and
coming to a head at the time of the Crimean War. That parallel
is also a reminder that some contemporary variant of the 'official
nationality' of that period may easily be the result, should the
state begin to steer in the direction of romantic nationalism.
I would, however, like to round off this book not
by predictions about the Russian state's future position on Europe,
but by reflecting on its place among the growing number of works
on culture and international relations (Neumann & Eriksen,
1993). The justification of such studies is sometimes seen simply
as a matter of salvaging what may be called little, local stories
(Lyotard, 1984):
Thus the significance of the concept of culture
in the analysis of contemporary international relations is
not that it offers a convenient category of socio-scientific
explanations, or a convincing account of human nature, or
a helpful classification of the difficult forms of human practices
there have been. Rather it hints at all the uncertainties
of modernities, and at a multitude of struggles - on the grounds
of tradition or postmodernity, of gender, race, religion and
ethnicity, or socialism and capitalism, of the Other, of the
future, of the local community, of the state and of the planet
- to reconstitute the conditions of human existence in the
face of tremendous structural transformation (Walker, 1991:
12-13).
Granted, it has value to excavate the different
Russian ideas about Europe, both in and of itself as a reminder
of the variety of international thinking, and instrumentally because
they colour not only today's Russian political process generally,
but may also colour the state's position specifically.
Privileging the state's position is, however, already
to move beyond the territory claimed for studies of culture by
Walker, and to approach the question of the importance of the
system of states for Russian ideas about Europe. In addition to
all the little stories, two grand narratives of how European hegemony
formats the Russian debate about it are lurking in the material
presented above. The first is Marx', of how the capitalist mode
of production forces other modes of production out of business.
The second is that of the mercantilists and international relations
'realists', of how the anarchical structure of the system of states
forces states to copy the most effective models for sosial organisation
around. Invoking this theory and referring to it as no less than
the goddess of fate, Kenneth Waltz (1979: 127-128) has formulated
this idea in the following manner:
The fate of each state depends on its responses
to what other states do. The possibility that conflict will
be conducted by force leads to competition in the arts and
the instruments of force. Competition produces a tendency
toward the sameness of the competitors. [...] It is this 'sameness',
as effect of the system, that is so often attributed to the
acceptance of so-called rules of state behavior. Chiliastic
rulers occasionally come to power. In power, most of them
quickly change their ways. They can refuse to do so, and yet
hope to survive, only if they rule countries little affected
by the competition of states.
Indeed, the material presented here seems to support
the idea that the exigencies of the states system impose a certain
'sameness'. As demonstrated time and again in the Russian debate
about Europe during the last two hundred years, it is likely that
any regime, no matter how bent it may initially be on following
a specifically Russian path of development, will discover that
maintaining the position of Russia in its international setting
may demand a certain copying of European models. This was the
thrust of Minister of Finance Reutern's advice to Tsar Alexander
II more than 130 years ago, when he warned that
Without railways and mechanical industries
Russia cannot be considered secure in her boundaries. Her
influence in Europe will fall to a level inconsistent with
her international power and her historical significance (quoted
in von Laue, 1963: 9).
In other words, if the Russian state should disregard
those developments in Western political and economic models which
translate into a consolidation of Western hegemony and superior
Western military capabilities, and should instead give priority
to another path of development, the price may be further international
marginalisation. Indeed, the Bolshevik state went for exactly
such an anti-hegemonic strategy, and it ended in tears: it was
probably the insight that the state's economic base could not
sustain the concurrent level of political and military activity
which made Gorbachev call off the state's anti-hegemonic strategy
and go for some kind of accomodation to Western hegemony.
Utkin, whose ideas about Europe were the last to
be discussed above, is in the exalted company of Gertsen, Trotskiy
and Trubetskoy when he takes the consequence of the pinch identified
by Waltz and insists that Russia cannot simply disregard Europe's
dynamism. Moreover, when I have had the chance to present the
material to experts on Ottoman, Persian, Japanese, Chinese or
other civilisations which have struggeled with coming to terms
with European hegemony, they have immediately and invariably spotted
a structural similarity between the Russian debate and the debates
inside those other states. (McNeill, 1963: 605 et passim).
This suggests that the states which possess the most effective
economic and political models, and which by this token will in
the long term form the core of the states system, exert a structuring
influence on the debate about the core in peripheral states.
This question has vexed theoreticians from Hegel
to Marx to Gramsci to Gilpin to Fukuyama, and I do not intend
to enter that debate in its full historiosophical range. Instead,
I would like to make two points about processes precipitating
it. The first concerns the making of such positions, and the second
the proclivity of their bearers to take over the state.
First, although a main conclusion which can be
drawn from the material presented above is that developments in
the Russian debate about Europe are gradual, and that even discontinuities
on the level of the position of the state have deep roots in the
debate itself, one cannot for these reasons alone rule out the
coming of new anti-hegemonial positions, chiliastic or otherwise.
All one can say is that such a new position will in all probability
to a large extent be made up of elements already present in the
bowels of the debate, and that it will need to be in gestation
for some time. Drawing among other things on the present genealogy,
the analyst should have ample time to spot it even before it has
formed into a fully fledged position.
Secondly, few would argue that what constitutes
a rational analysis rooted in the exigencies of the system of
states will necessarily deter romantic nationalists or others
from trying to impose their position on the state. One thing is
that the ideas of the romantic nationalists about Russian-ness
(russkost') may be seen as defying rationality altogether:
'The rhetoric of russkost' does not merely defy logic in
the conventional use of the term. It defies the very idea of logic,
fact intellect, rationalism, learning, and objective truth. The
very use of facts by the opposition is suspicious - somehow unspiritual
and un-Russian' (Parthй, 1993). On a more balanced note, if what
is real is rational, it also means that not yet imposed schemes
are 'real' to those who hold them. In today's Russian debate,
there only exist two models which challenge the Western ones,
and they are both equally ill-defined. The main romantic nationalist
model favours a tightly disciplined, militaristic society, while
an even more diffuse model turns on resuscitating an idealised
version of the pre-Petrine Russian pastorale. Yet the characterisation
of these models as 'un-rational', 'diffuse', 'unrealistic' and
the like by Russian liberals and other outsiders will hardly deter
Russian romantic nationalists (or future revolutionaries for that
matter) from trying to implement them. Whether or not it is a
fair prediction that the implementation of these models will only
increase the power discrepancy between Russia and Europe and will
- if only for this reason - have to be abandoned at some later
stage, is immaterial in this regard. The example of the Iranian
reaction to the coming of modernity in the late 1970s is a reminder
against thinking otherwise.
While it is a fair point that the existence of
a system of states imposes a certain 'sameness' on its member
states, and, it may be added, on their debates about the outside
world, it is hardly logically necessary to oppose this to the
working of hegemonic rules. The point of departure for this study
was how Russians, in trying to impose ideas of Europe on one another,
were also trying to impose their own idea of what Russia's
political order should look like. This was not set out as a hypothesis
to be tested, and so it has not been proven or even explained.
However, I hope the material has demonstrated how such a perspective
is warranted and how it can deepen our understanding of this process
(Hollis & Smith, 1991a: 68-91; 1991b). If this point is taken
seriously, however, then the question is not one of whether or
not the rules as they emanate from European-dominated international
interaction structure the Russian debate. Not only do they structure
them; they constitute them. The question I have tried to answer
is how (Baudrillard, 1977).
The epistemological underpinnings of the present
study make it only partially fit to answer the bugle calls of
a Walker or a Waltz. The place in the literature that I would
like to claim for it is rather as a complementary critique of
the literature on 'international society'. As noted above, an
international society was defined by Hedley Bull as 'a group of
states, conscious of certain common interests and common values',
which by dialogue and consent have formed 'a society in the sense
that they conceive themselves to be bound by a common set of rules
in their relations with one another, and share in the working
of common institutions' (Bull, 1977: 13; Bull & Watson, 1).
Members of the 'English School' writing on international society
have often drawn attention to the cultural underpinnings of international
society:
all historical international societies have
had as one of their foundations a common culture. On the one
hand, there has been some element of a common intellectual
culture - such as a common language, a common philosophical
and epistemological outlook, a common literary or artistic
tradition - the presence of which served to facilitate communication
between the member states of the society. On the other hand,
there has been some element of common values - such
as a common religion or a common moral code - the presence
of which served to reinforce the sense of common interests
that united the states in question by a sense of common obligation
(Bull, 1977: 316).
However, although there has been no lack of calls
for empirical research into how these underpinnings come about
and are reproduced (e.g. Wight, 1977; Vincent 1980; Buzan, 1993),
the attempts to do so have either focussed on the expansion of
international society itself (Bull & Watson, 1984), or on
diplomatic culture (Gong, 1984). By setting out Russian reactions
to having been as it were 'expanded upon' by the historical European
core of international society, I hope to have demonstrated how
in one instance the process of expansion divided the intellectual
culture of one particular state. That divide will hardly dissipate
before, and if ever, Russians, Europeans and third parties alike
talk about Russia as forming part of the core of international
society.
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