The immediate cause of the conflicts in the post-Soviet space was the end of the USSR which, as the 20th century incarnation of the historical Russian empire, had kept much of the conflict potential among the hundred-plus ethnic groups over which it ruled under a tight lid. It is occasionally argued that the Soviet Union was overturned by the forces of national liberation that had managed to prevail in its constituent republics, leaving the central government isolated and impotent. On the face of it, this looks plausible. After all, the USSR was formally dissolved on 8 December 1991 by the leaders of its three founding members — Russia, the Ukraine and Belarus — assembled at a hunting lodge on the Polish border. This was preceded by a pro-independence referendum in the Ukraine, the second largest republic, and by independence declarations adopted by parliaments in all other Soviet states. Yet, the decisive factor was the split within the Moscow élite, the more radical part of which had opted early on for a strategy of coming to power by upgrading the status of the Russian republic to full sovereignty and thus obviating the reform-shy Soviet authorities. The Russian radicals were hardly interested in the fate of the other fourteen republics. With regard to the national liberation movement, it manifested itself in but a few places, mostly the Baltic states, and to a lesser extent in Georgia and Moldova. Apart from several incidents, in which a total of three dozen people lost their lives during 1990-1991, the central government was unable and unwilling to provide serious opposition to the champions of independence.

There is some confusion over the use of the term ‘empire’ when applied to the USSR. Unlike the traditional maritime empires of Britain, France, Portugal, and others, the Russian state grew through its relentless overland expansion, annexing or otherwise acquiring territories populated by scores of ethnic groups without, however, destroying their homelands, or religious affiliations. The result was a huge multi-ethnic, multireligious country, spreading over one-sixth of the earth’s surface, which lacked a clear distinction between metropolitan territory and colonies. The imperial nobility included barons and princes drawn from virtually all its ethnic groups, and Russian peasants — the bulk of the population — were as much oppressed as their peers in Central Asia or the Caucasus, and even more so than their rather more fortunate cousins in Poland or Finland. Effectively, ‘Russia’ meant that part of the world, extending from Poland in the west to Port Arthur on the Yellow Sea, ruled by the Tsar. Thus, ‘Russian’ denoted any subject of the Tsar, irrespective of ethnicity. Since the Russian Orthodox Church was de facto an arm of the state apparatus, and was never allowed to play an independent role since the late 17th century, it was the national interest in religious affairs, or better said Staatsraison, that clearly prevailed. If comparisons have to be made, the Russian state had much more in common with the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian monarchies than with the classical Western European colonial empires. The Soviet Union added much to this unique historical experience, but it did not change its very essence. Ironically, however, the USSR’s historic mission has turned out to be of great help to the various nations in achieving eventual independence from Russia. Doubly ironic, it was the Russian component within the Soviet Union, the former relentless ‘gatherer of lands’, that now paved the way for the independent existence of these countries.

Thus, in a most remarkable way, except for Chechnya — a very special case to be discussed below — not a single armed conflict in the post-Soviet space is of a colonial nature, resulting from a clash between the former metropolitan power (the Russian Federation) and one or several of its former colonies. What is doubly remarkable, is that there have been no direct conflicts so far between the newly independent states — although Armenia and Azerbaijan came very close in the Karabakh conflict. This latter phenomenon may be attributed to a range of factors, from the awareness of their own weaknesses to the peculiar solidarity among the republican level sections of the former Soviet nomenklatura whose leaders assumed power in the new states. Probably of greater importance was the common concern that, should any boundaries among the Soviet republics be contested, this would open a Pandora’s box, leading to all boundaries being contested, with the new states likely being overwhelmed by the double challenge of external irredentism and internal separatism. It is precisely this separatism which is a clear and present danger throughout the former Soviet space.

Within the USSR, only the 15 title nations of the constituent republics of the Union were formally entitled to secede — although there was no mechanism for this until 1991, and until Gorbachev’s perestroika, even a discussion of such a possibility was regarded as high treason. All other ethnic groups that had territorial autonomy within the USSR were placed under the formal authority of one of the constituent republics. In reality, most decisions were taken at the union level. As the union started to crumble, some of the autonomous entities, ever resentful of ‘their’ republics, claimed full independence. Thus, as republics were leaving the union, several autonomous regions were breaking away from these republics. The situation resembled that of a matryoshka — the traditional Russian nest of dolls — except that it was not at least as light-hearted.

Unlike the dismantling of the union, this second level disintegration was not considered legal, and armed conflicts were often the result. Abkhazia, Chechnya, Karabakh, South Ossetia, Transdniestria all fought wars against, respectively, Georgia, Russia, Azerbaijan and Moldova — and all won (the result of the second conflict in Chechnya is still pending). The five tiny states, albeit unrecognised, have become a reality of the post-Soviet space. What is remarkable is that relatively few conflicts of this nature occurred, and some of the potentially most explosive ones, such as the Crimea versus the Ukraine, and Tatarstan versus Russia, were successfully managed through political means.

Further, some of the ethnically homogeneous states experienced difficulties with nationbuilding. Of these, Tajikistan became the site of a protracted civil war (1992-1997) fought among the various regional clans for the control of the central government.

All states in the former USSR, with the exception of the three Baltic states, remain extremely weak, with some of them failing. Russia experiences particular difficulties with building a genuine federation. The unitary governments, such as the Ukraine, are being confronted with the issue of regionalisation. Across the former USSR, post-Communist transformation of the whole fabric of society is fraught with conflicts of every kind. Of particular relevance is the challenge of militant political Islam which is strongest where the temporal authorities are most corrupt and inefficient — as in the North Caucasus and Central Asia.

NATURE OF POLITICAL TERRAIN

All newly independent states of Eurasia have Russia in common, as a neighbour and an historical hegemon. Russian dominance in this region lasted at least for a century, and often much longer. The peculiar nature of the Russian empire, and of the Soviet Union was discussed above. The current Russian Federation is very close to the new states geographically. It is not separated from them by any stretch of water, and regards all the new states as areas of vital national interest. One salient factor is the presence in this area of some 25 million ethnic Russian residents. Despite all its enormous and apparently intractable problems, Russia, while certainly down, is definitely not out. It is true that Russian political, economic and military influence is waning. But, as the old links between Moscow and the former borderlands become eroded, new ones are sought. The Russian language, although no longer the official medium, remains the lingua franca throughout the entire region.

The unsung hero of the post-Soviet space is the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS), which has been constantly ridiculed for its impotence as a vehicle for new integration. However, this has never been the true vocation of the CIS. The institution deserves the highest marks for helping to dismantle the huge authoritarian empire in the smoothest and most orderly, even legalistic way. Its corollary mission has been to assist the new states — in 1991, states in name only — toward actual independence. The CIS provides a network of useful contacts for the leadership, and facilitates communication — including mostly visa-free travel — among the public. The replacement of the USSR with the CIS in December 1991 soothed the blow of Soviet collapse for many, buying vitally important time for psychological adjustment.

Both the Russian presence and the CIS are variations of recent realities. The end of the USSR marked some important discontinuities as well. The old Soviet border, effectively sealing off one-sixth of the world from the other five-sixths, is no more. Moscow’s attempt to control borders jointly — essentially Russian controlled — has largely failed. Rather, the former barrier became an interface for all kinds of interaction. Some of the historical players, such as Turkey, Iran and China, are back again. Some new actors, such as private Islamic foundations, extended their area of operation far to the north. Afghanistan, invaded by the Soviet army in 1979, has become a generator of tension across the former Soviet Central Asia. To the envy and dismay of the Russian élite, the United States has become the prevailing power across Eurasia.

All the states of the former USSR, whether their location is in Europe or Asia, inherited membership of the Organisation for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) from the old union. The OSCE effectively means an institutionalised Western presence in the whole CIS area with a mission to prevent conflict, monitor human rights, and help with democratisation and post-conflict rehabilitation.

NATURE OF INTERVENTION

The Soviet Union — having boasted that it has ‘solved the nationalities issue’ — was much too complacent to deal with simmering ethnic conflicts. When it began to react in force, since 1989, it was already too late. At best, Soviet military interventions brought only temporarily stability, as in the Ferghana valley and Tajikistan in 1990. Worse, such interventions contributed to the collapse of the union, as in Georgia in 1989 and Lithuania and Latvia in 1991. At the very worst, the disintegrating Soviet army became enmeshed in the fighting in Karabakh in 1991, and its arsenals became the prime source of weapons and ammunition for ethnic warriors.

When the Soviet Union disintegrated, the Russian government concentrated on the issue of economic reform. The foreign ministry was busy promoting new friendly ties with the West, while Russia did not even have diplomatic missions in the newly independent states. The task of containing conflicts and stopping violence was de facto left to the Russian army, or rather former Soviet military garrisons taken over by the Russian Federation which were located near the scenes of conflict. It was up to these forces and their commanders to act as peacemakers. They were an unlikely group to perform the task, but there were no other takers.1

The critics of Russian peacekeeping usually claim that Russia was hardly impartial or disinterested, and of course it was neither. Moreover, with the confusion reigning in Moscow, the military high command in the capital and the local commanders in the field were given wide authority by default. On balance, however, Russian intervention helped to curb violence in South Ossetia and Transdniestria, and lower the level of violence drastically in Tajikistan (all in 1992). Russian politico-military mediation was also crucial in arranging a cease-fire in Karabakh, which has held without a peacekeeping force on the ground, since 1994. It was in Abkhazia that the Russian military really failed in their role as peacekeepers under the 1992 accord and helped the Abkhaz to defeat the Georgian forces and take over the entire province in 1993. Be that as it may, until the eruption of the first Chechen war in late 1994 all other seats of armed violence in the former USSR had been successfully contained by Russia.

The Russian actions had been legitimised at local level. The warring parties agreed, sometimes ex post facto, to Moscow’s peacekeeping role. In South Ossetia, Transdniestria and Abkhazia, a so-called tripartite form of peacekeeping operation was first developed. The two parties to each conflict, and Russia established joint commissions to monitor cease-fire agreements, and fielded joint forces to police them.

When Russia intervened, it did so at its own behest. Moscow tried, and failed, to get the United Nations involved in any but a very minor role. It also predictably failed to gain international recognition as the sole power responsible for making peace across the CIS. The international community suspected that Russia had a secret agenda aimed at restoring its imperial control.2 Although the UN had subsequently endorsed Russian peacekeeping, and sent its observers to some of the conflict areas, as had the OSCE, it never issued a mandate to Russia to operate on its behalf.

In this situation, Moscow sought the CIS mandate for the most difficult and controversial of its operations, in Abkhazia and Tajikistan. In the former case, the extension of the mandate has become one of the few instruments of pressure which the Georgian government can wield in Moscow, to make Russia toughen its stance vis-à-vis the Abkhaz. No other CIS country appears interested, and the issues of the CIS mandate and of the implementation of CIS resolutions have become part of complicated Russian-Georgian-Abkhazian relations.3

As has been referred to, the CIS has been helping former Soviet republics to become truly independent states over the years. As must be expected, independence to them means first and foremost independence from Russia. By the end of the decade, it has become evident that some of the new states were ready to assert themselves vis-à-vis Moscow.

The first Russian peacekeepers were regular forces who were never trained for such a mission. They intervened with force, either to impose a cease-fire, as in Moldova in June 1992, or to defeat and expel one of the warring factions, as in Tajikistan in December 1992. In one case (Abkhazia, 1993) during the political turmoil in Moscow, the Russian military commanders breached their obligations and helped the Abkhaz to prevail over Georgia. Progressively, Russian peacekeepers have become more professional. Russia’s participation in the UNPROFOR, IFOR/SFOR and KFOR operations in the Balkans helped to gain expertise and develop a culture of modern Russian peacekeeping. Although peacekeeping within the CIS was regarded to be of an inferior order by the Russian soldiers themselves for a number of reasons, there has been some positive spillover effects.

Since the Russian government and the military have come to regard peacekeeping primarily as a tool of national policy, they sought to keep third parties out of the region. They were especially concerned by the prospect of having the Romanians on the ground in Moldova, the Turks in Azerbaijan, and NATO forces in Georgia.

RESULTS ACHIEVED

The most immediate result of Russian intervention was the cessation of armed conflicts. Russia’s forces were weak, but the antagonists were usually much weaker. Those in the West and elsewhere who had feared the restoration of the Russian empire by means of peacekeeping operations, were relieved, for Russian power and influence continued to decline, including in the countries that played host to Russian peacekeepers.

It also became possible to contain the geographic spread of violence. Had it been impossible to stabilise Tajikistan, however imperfectly, the neighbouring countries of Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan and probably Kazakstan would have been affected. A continuing conflict over Karabakh might have drawn in Turkey, provoking a direct conflict between this NATO country and Russia.

Violence was stopped and conflicts were contained, but political solutions were lacking. Except in Tajikistan where a peace agreement, jointly brokered by Moscow and Teheran, took effect in 1997, all conflicts were suspended and remained unresolved. From the mid-1990s, Moscow attempted to energise its peacekeeping diplomacy, but was too weak and too distracted to make the conflicting sides reach lasting agreements.

In contrast, more successful peace enforcement operations led by the US in Bosnia-Herzegovina changed the perception across the CIS area of the effectiveness of Russian peacekeeping. What had been seen as largely positive (cessation of violence) thus far, came to be viewed less charitably (no final settlement in sight, no funds for reconstruction made available).

Thus, as the decade drew to a close, violence has been stopped and political solutions are in the making, but the danger of conflicts resuming remains.

POINTERS TO THE FUTURE

The first post-Soviet conflict to resume, was the one in Chechnya. No political solution was reached in the three years since the cease-fire had been agreed upon and Russian forces left the republic. The Chechens, for their part, have not been able to create a functioning state. Moreover, Chechnya has become the prime source of tension and instability in the region. The new conflict, instigated by what the Russian government has branded a terrorist organisation, is unlikely to end soon. As long as it lasts, it will absorb much of Russia’s attention and resources. The outcome of the war in Chechnya will have decisive implications for many latent or simmering conflicts in the North Caucasus. Eventually, any solution will have to be a political one, but the role of outsiders is likely to be limited to the provision of humanitarian assistance, occasional short visits to the area, and remote monitoring of developments there. A return of the permanent OSCE presence as a facilitator of dialogue between Moscow and the Chechen authorities is improbable, except in the case of an unlikely Russian defeat.

Of the remaining conflicts, international mediation is moving the peace process in Nagorno-Karabakh forward. Crucial to this process is the combination of the political will of the participants to the conflict, the goodwill of mediators from the US, Russia, France and other countries assembled in the Minsk group, and the overall legitimacy conferred by the OSCE on the search for peace.

Slow progress toward settlement is also registered in Moldova, where Russia has insisted that its military withdrawal is conditional on the agreement on the final status of Transdniestria.

On the other hand, Abkhazia and South Ossetia are as far away from a peace accord as ever, due to the growing deterioration of Russian-Georgian relations.

Despite the 1997 peace agreement and the 1999 presidential elections in Tajikistan, the country remains a hotbed of tensions in the region. It is likely that, in the coming decade, it will function as a base for Islamic guerrillas aiming to topple the post-Soviet regimes of Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and other states. In the absence of other credible protectors, these regimes will be turning to Moscow for support and military aid. The outside pull for Russian involvement in Central Asian security will grow in the next decade. This involvement, however, can hardly be described as peacekeeping.

Should a new conflict break out in the CIS area, however, Russia will find it difficult, due to the lack of resources, to perform the role of a third-party peacekeeper. It will either need to co-operate with an international organisation, such as the UN or the OSCE, or enter into a coalition with others in the region. With reference to Central Asia, such a coalition could include countries in the region and China. Annual summits of five parties to the 1996 Shanghai border agreement can provide a useful framework for such contact.

The role of the CIS is likely to decline even further, as some of its members challenge Russia on the issue of peacekeeping, while others lose their last vestiges of interest in it. The very success of the CIS formula — turning the former Soviet republics into states — makes the Commonwealth itself increasingly irrelevant.

The regional organisations within the CIS area that do not include Russia, such as the Central Asian Union and the GUUAM (Georgia, the Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Moldova), are still too weak to be able to shoulder the burden of regional peacekeeping.

The role of the OSCE in the resolution of conflicts is likely to grow as Karabakh and Transdniestria edge towards a lasting peace accord.

The European Union, now complete with a common foreign and security policy, will probably seek to enhance its profile along the eastern periphery of the EU, which includes the CIS states.

NATO’s new ‘strategic concept’ emphasises out-of-area activities. Even now, the mere spectre of NATO involvement as a peacemaker in the Caucasus raises fears in Moscow and encourages those in the area who view Russia as a threat. So far, NATO’s strategy in this regard has been cautious, but consistent. Within the Partnership for Peace (PfP) programme, NATO has been engaged in training local peacekeepers in Central Asia (CENTRASBAT) and the Caucasus (for pipeline protection).

LESSONS LEARNED FROM POST-SOVIET PEACEKEEPING

It has long been argued in the West that Russian peacekeeping offered few positive lessons, and certainly no model, to the outside world. This was based on the conclusion — an accurate one — that it differed too widely from the UN practice of peacekeeping. However, NATO’s subsequent experience in Bosnia and especially in Kosovo sets limits on the utility of the UN model, discredited as it had been by the unfortunate UNPROFOR experience.

The Russian model of the early 1990s is not to be emulated by the Russians themselves, who, in Chechnya once again, are emulating various American tactics. Future military engagements in the CIS space are likely to follow a very different pattern from the regional separatism that has marked the 1990s. The states that have survived separation from the USSR relatively unscathed, will not be challenged by this type of conflict in the near future, and the cleft states will probably be somehow reconfigured to become federal/confederal structures. Most future conflicts will be of the kind now faced in the North Caucasus of which Kyrgyzstan also caught a glimpse in 1999. The established authority will be challenged by Islamic revolutionary plotters and rebels who will protest against the corruption of the upper classes and the utter poverty of the masses, and whose goal will be the creation of a Moslem state. Thus, the second Chechen war is the first major conflict of a new generation.

The post-Soviet experience shows that stopping violence through the use of force is crucial, but only a first step. Conflict resolution takes much time and effort, and requires substantial resources. In fact, very different types of qualities and resources are required for achieving a cease-fire, guaranteeing the implementation of agreements, and the resolution of a conflict. As elsewhere, the premium is on preventing conflicts or, should these break out nevertheless, on acting without delay, and sending in a military force quickly and in sufficient numbers.

The conflicts in the post-Soviet space reveal links between peacekeeping and geopolitics. In the absence of a world government with universal legitimacy, peacekeeping remains an instrument of the foreign policies of nations that have broader interests. Even if several of these nations act together as an international community, in the name of the norms and principles which they hold to be universal, their action can be perceived as geopolitically minded.

The former imperial power has both advantages and disadvantages when it decides to act. On the one hand, there is knowledge of the area and the players involved; geographical proximity; no language barriers; a surviving post-imperial infrastructure; a political clientele, and more. On the other hand, there is widespread suspicion of its ultimate goals; rejection of its role by significant segments of the population; the role played by former provincial lobbies in the former imperial capital; the undue influence of the military; political and ideological cleavages in society regarding intervention in the former borderlands, to name but a few.

When the international community is apathetic, the former imperial power is left alone to do all the work. Its resources are heavily taxed, but it is virtually unconstrained by outside meddling. The credibility of third-party peacemaking is limited, as it is virtually impossible for a former imperial power to stay impartial and disinterested. Even if it does not wholly support either party to a conflict, it can never be entirely neutral regarding its own national interests.

When the outside world becomes interested, geopolitical rivalry may be the result. At the very least, broader international involvement in handling conflicts within a former empire would aim at reducing the influence of the former dominant power. While the former hegemon may regard peacekeeping as a form of politico-military presence on the ground, the outsiders could politically gain from breaking that monopoly.

The parties directly involved in conflicts are very much prone to play geopolitical games. Thus, whereas Georgia and Moldova demand international peacekeeping with a strong Western presence, their separatist Abkhazian and Transdniestrian opponents prefer to rely on and attempt to use Russia.

International organisations such as the UN continue to play a legitimising role, but their role overall has become more limited. The Iraq and, in particular, Kosovo experiences have demonstrated that the Security Council is progressively paralysed as a result of mounting tensions between its permanent veto-wielding members Russia, China and the US. NATO’s decision in the spring of 1999 to break the impasse and go ahead with its own, non-UN mandated military intervention in Yugoslavia has further undermined the UN role.4 Yet, legitimacy is of key importance. There cannot be any effective resolution of conflicts without it.

Organising neighbourhood peacekeeping associations, as the CIS experience demonstrates, is fraught with difficulties rooted in history, psychology, diverging national interests, inequalities, leadership problems, lack of resources for proper functioning as a regional peacekeeping body, and much more. Despite these shortcomings, it is still preferable that one country single-handedly engages in regional peacekeeping than not at all.

Endnotes

See the following Russian publications on this issue: V N Vartanov, V A Gavcrilov & N Ya Shepova, Mirotvorcheskie sily: oput sozdaniya i primemeniya v vooruzhennykh konfliktakh, Institute of Military History, Moscow, 1996; A I Nikitin, O N Khlestov, Yu E Fedorov & A V Demurenko, Mirotvorcheskie operatsii v SNG, MONF, Moscow, 1998.



See, for example, L Jonson, Keeping the peace in the CIS, Discussion Paper 81, Royal Institute of International Affairs, London, 1999, p 1.



See the following: R Allison, Peacekeeping in the Soviet successor states, Chaillot Paper 18, Institute for Security Studies of the WEU, Paris, 1994; H G Ehrhart, A Kriekemeyer & S Zagorsky (eds), Crisis management in the CIS: Whither Russia? Nomos Verlag, Baden-Baden, 1995; L Jonson & C Archer (eds), Peacekeeping and the role of Russia in Eurasia, Westview, Boulder, CO 1996; D Trenin, ‘Russia’s use of military forces in intra-state conflicts in the CIS’, Berichte des Bundesinstituts fuer Internationale und Ostwissenschaftliche Studien, 32, 1996.



For an analysis of Russian views of the Kosovo conflict, and its impact on the international system, see D Trenin & E Stepanova (eds), Kosovo: mezhdunarodnye aspekty krizisa (Kosovo: International aspects of the crisis), Carnegie Moscow Center, Moscow, 1999.