STRATFOR often discusses how Russia is on a bit of a roll. The United States
distraction in the Middle East has offered Russia a golden opportunity to
re-establish its spheres of influence in the region, steadily expanding the
Russian zone of control into a shape that is eerily reminiscent of the old
Soviet Union. Since 2005, when this process began, Russia has clearly
reasserted itself as the dominant power in Armenia, Belarus, Kazakhstan,
Azerbaijan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Ukraine, and has intimidated places like
Georgia and Turkmenistan into a sort of silent acquiescence.
But we have not spent a great amount of time explaining why this is the case.
It is undeniable that Russia is a great power, but few things in geopolitics
are immutable, and Russia is no exception.
Russian geography, strategy and demographics
Russia's geography is extremely open, with few geographic
barriers to hunker behind. There are no oceans, mountains or deserts to protect
Russia from outside influences - or armies - and Russia's forests, which might
provide some measure of protection, are on the wrong side of the country. The
Russian taiga is in the north and, as such, can only provide refuge for
Russians after the country's more economically useful parts have already fallen
to invaders (as during the Mongol occupation).
Despite its poor geographic hand, Russia has managed to cope via a three-part
strategy:
Lay claim to as large a piece of land as possible.
Flood it with ethnic Russians to assert reliable control.
Establish an internal intelligence presence that can monitor and, if need be,
suppress the indigenous population.
Throughout Russian history, this strategy has been repeated until the Russian
state reached an ocean, a mountain chain, a desert or a foe that fought back
too strongly. In many ways, the strategies of the Kremlin of 2010 are extremely
similar to those of Catherine the Great, Ivan the Terrible or Joseph Stalin.
But it is no longer the 17th century, and this strategy does not necessarily
play to Russia's strengths anymore. The second prong of the strategy - flooding
the region with ethnic Russians - is no longer an option because of Russia's
demographic profile. The Russian birth rate has been in decline for a century,
and in the post-Cold War era, the youngest tranche of the Russian population
simply collapsed. The situation transformed from an academic debate about
Russia's future to a policy debate about Russia's present.
The bust in the birth rate in the 1990s and 2000s has generated the smallest
population cohort in Russian history, and in a very few years, those post-Cold
War children will themselves be at the age where they will be having children.
A small cohort will create an even smaller cohort, and Russia's population
problems could well evolve from crushing to irrecoverable.
Even if this cohort reproduces at a sub-Saharan African birthrate, even if the
indications of high tuberculosis and HIV infections among this population
cohort are all wrong, and even if Russia can provide a level of services for
this group that it couldn't manage during the height of Soviet power, any
demographic bounce would not occur until the 2050s - once the children of this
cohort have sufficiently aged to raise their own children. Until 2050, Russia
simply has to learn to work with less. A lot less. And this is the best-case
scenario for Russia in the next generation.
Simply put, Russia does not have the population to sustain the country at its
present boundaries. As time grinds on, Russia's capacity for doing so will
decrease drastically. Moscow understands all this extremely well, and this is a
leading rationale behind current Russian foreign policy: Russia's demographics
will never again be as “positive” as they are now, and the Americans are
unlikely to be any more distracted than they are now. So Russia is moving
quickly and, more important, intelligently.
Russia is thus attempting to reach some natural anchor points, eg, some
geographic barriers that would limit the state's exposure to outside powers.
The Russians hope they will be able to husband their strength from these anchor
points. Moscow's long-term strategy consistently has been to trade space for
time ahead of the beginning of the Russian twilight; if the Russians can expand
to these anchor points, Moscow hopes it can trade less space for more time.
Unfortunately for Moscow, there are not many of these anchor points in Russia's
neighborhood. One is the Baltic Sea, a fact that terrifies the Baltic states of
Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. Another is the Carpathian Mountains. This
necessitates the de facto absorption not only of Ukraine, but also of Moldova,
something that makes Romania lose sleep at night. And then there are the Tien
Shan Mountains of Central Asia - which brings us to the crisis of the moment.
The crisis in Kyrgyzstan
The former Soviet Central Asian republic of Kyrgyzstan is not a particularly
nice piece of real estate. While it is in one of those mountainous regions that
could be used to anchor Russian power, it is on the far side of the Eurasian
steppe from the Russian core, more than 3,000 kilometers (1,800 miles) removed
from the Russian heartland.
The geography of Kyrgyzstan itself also leaves a great deal to be desired.
Kyrgyzstan is an artificial construct created by none other than Stalin, who
rearranged internal Soviet borders in the region to maximize the chances of
dislocation, dispute and disruption among the indigenous populations in case
the Soviet provinces ever gained independence.
Stalin drew his lines well: Central Asia's only meaningful population center is
the Fergana Valley. Kyrgyzstan obtained the region's foothills and highlands,
which provide the region's water; Uzbekistan gained the fertile floor of the
valley; and Tajikistan walked away with the only decent access to the valley as
a whole. As such, the three states continuously are jockeying for control over
the only decent real estate in the region.
Arguably, Kyrgyzstan has the least to work with of any of the region's states.
Nearly all of its territory is mountainous; what flat patches of land it does
have on which to build cities are scattered about. There is, accordingly, no
real Kyrgyz core. Consequently, the country suffers from sharp internal
differences: Individual clans hold dominion over tiny patches of land separated
from each other by rugged tracts of mountains. In nearly all cases, those clans
have tighter economic and security relationships with foreigners than they do
with each other.
A little more than five years ago, Western non-governmental organizations (and
undoubtedly a handful of intelligence services) joined forces with some of
these regional factions in Kyrgyzstan to overthrow the country's pro-Russian
ruling elite in what is known as a "color" revolution in the former Soviet
Union.
Subsequently, Kyrgyzstan - while not exactly pro-Western - dwelled in a
political middle ground the Russians found displeasing. In April, Russia proved
that it, too, can throw a color revolution and Kyrgyzstan's government switched
yet again. Since then, violence has wracked the southern regions of Jalal-Abad,
Batken and Osh - strongholds of the previous government. In recent days, nearly
100,000 Kyrgyz residents have fled to Uzbekistan.
The interim government of President Roza Otunbayeva is totally outmatched. It
is not so much that her government is in danger of falling - those same
mountains that make it nearly impossible for Bishkek to control Osh make it
equally difficult for Osh to take over Bishkek - but that the country has de
facto split into (at least) two pieces. As such, Otunbayeva - whose government
only coalesced due to the Russian intervention - has publicly and directly
called on the Russians to provide troops to help hold the country together.
This request cuts to the core weakness in the Russian strategy.
Despite much degradation in the period after the Soviet dissolution, Russia's
intelligence services remain without peer. In fact, now that they have the
direct patronage of the Russian prime minister, they have proportionally more
resources and influence than ever. They have proved that they can rewire
Ukraine's political world to expunge American influence, manipulate events in
the Caucasus to whittle away at Turkey's authority, cause riots in the Baltics
to unbalance North Atlantic Treaty Organization members, and reverse
Kyrgyzstan's color revolution.
But they do not have backup. Were this the 19th century, there would already be
scads of Russian settlers en route to the Fergana to dilute the control of the
locals (although they would certainly be arriving after the Russian army), to
construct a local economy dependent on imported labor and linked to the Russian
core, and to establish a new ruling elite. (It is worth noting that the
resistance of Central Asians to Russian encroachment meant that the Russians
never seriously attempted to make the region into a majority-Russian one. Even
so, the Russians still introduced their own demographic to help shape the
region more to Moscow's liking.)
Instead, Russia's relatively few young families are busy holding the
demographic line in Russia proper. For the first time in Russian history, there
is no surplus Russian population that can be relocated to the provinces.
And without that population, the Russian view of the Fergana - to say nothing
of Kyrgyzstan - changes dramatically. The region is remote and densely
populated, and reaching it requires transiting three countries. And one of
these states would have something to say about that. That state is Uzbekistan.
The Uzbek Goliath
After the Russians and Ukrainians, the Uzbeks are the most populous ethnicity
in the former Soviet Union. They are a Turkic people who do not enjoy
particularly good relations with anyone. Uzbekistan's ruling Karimov family is
roundly hated both at home and abroad; the Central Asian country boasts one of
the most repressive governing systems in modern times.
Uzbekistan also happens to be quite powerful by Central Asian standards. There
are more Uzbeks in Central Asia than there are Kyrgyz, Turkmen, Tajiks and
Russians combined. The Uzbek intelligence services are modeled after their
Russian counterparts, interspersing agents throughout the Uzbek population to
ensure loyalty and to root out dissidents. It is the only country of the five
former Soviet states in the region that actually has a military that can engage
in military action.
It is the only one of the five that has most of its cities in logical proximity
and linked with decent infrastructure (even if it is split into the Tashkent
region and the Fergana region by Stalinesque cartographic creativity). It is
the only one of the five that is both politically stable (if politically
brittle) and that has the ability to project power. And it is also the only
Central Asian state that is self-sufficient in both food and energy. To top it
all off, some 2.5 million ethnic Uzbeks reside in the other four former Soviet
Central Asian states, providing Tashkent a wealth of tools for manipulating
developments throughout the region.
And manipulate it does. In addition to the odd border spat, Uzbekistan
intervened decisively in Tajikistan's civil war in the 1990s. Tashkent is not
shy about noting that it thinks most Tajik, and especially Kyrgyz, territory
should belong to Uzbekistan, particularly the territory of southern Kyrgyzstan,
where the current violence is strongest. Uzbekistan views many of the Russian
strategies to expunge Western interests from Central Asia as preparation for
moves against Uzbekistan, with the Russian-sponsored coup in Kyrgyzstan an
excellent case in point.
From March through May, Uzbekistan began activating its reserves and
reinforcing its Fergana border regions, which heightened the state of fear in
Bishkek from shrill to panic mode. Given Uzbek means, motive and opportunity,
Moscow is fairly confident that sending Russian peacekeepers to southern
Kyrgyzstan would provoke a direct military confrontation with an angry and
nervous Uzbekistan.
In STRATFOR's view, Russia would win this war, but this victory would come
neither easily nor cheaply. The Fergana is a long way from Russia, and the vast
bulk of Russia's military is static, not expeditionary like its US counterpart.
Uzbek supply lines would be measured in hundreds of meters, Russian lines in
thousands of kilometers. Moreover, Uzbekistan could interrupt nearly all
Central Asian natural gas that currently flows to Russia without even launching
a single attack. (The Turkmen natural gas that Russia's Gazprom normally
depends upon travels to Russia via Uzbek territory.)
Yet this may be a conflict Russia feels it cannot avoid. The Russians have not
forward-garrisoned a military force sufficient to protect Kyrgyzstan, nor can
they resettle a population that could transform Kyrgyzstan. Therefore, the
Russian relationship with Kyrgyzstan is based neither on military strategy nor
on economic rationality. Instead, it is based on the need to preserve a certain
level of credibility and fear - credibility that the Russians will protect
Kyrgyzstan should push come to shove, and Kyrgyz fear of what Russia will do to
it should they not sign on to the Russian sphere of influence.
It is a strategy strongly reminiscent of the US Cold War containment doctrine,
under which the United States promised to aid any ally, anytime, anywhere if in
exchange they would help contain the Soviets. This allowed the Soviet Union to
choose the time and place of conflicts, and triggered US involvement in places
like Vietnam. Had the United States refused battle, the American alliance
structure could have crumbled. Russia now faces a similar dilemma, and just as
the United States had no economic desire to be in Vietnam, the Russians really
do not much care what happens to Kyrgyzstan - except as it impacts Russian
interests elsewhere.
But even victory over Uzbekistan would not solve the problem. Smashing the only
coherent government in the region would create a security vacuum. Again, the
Americans provide a useful corollary: The US "victory" over Saddam Hussein's
Iraq and the Taliban's Afghanistan proved that "winning" is the easy part.
Occupying the region over the long haul to make sure that the victory is not
worse than the status quo antebellum is a decade-to-generational effort that
requires a significant expenditure of blood and treasure. Russia desperately
needs to devote such resources elsewhere - particularly once the US is no
longer so preoccupied in the Middle East.
Russia is attempting to finesse a middle ground by talking the Uzbeks down and
offering the compromise of non-Russian troops from the Collective Security
Treaty Organization, a Russian-led military organization, as an alternative to
Russian forces. This may resolve the immediate crisis, but neither the Uzbeks
nor the challenges they pose are going anywhere. And unlike Russia, Uzbekistan
boasts very high demographic growth.
The bottom line is this: Despite all of Russia's recent gains, Moscow's
strategy requires tools that the Russians no longer have. It requires Moscow
delving into the subregional politics of places that could well bleed Russia
dry - and this is before any power that wishes Russia ill begins exploring what
it and the Uzbeks might achieve together.
Peter Zeihan is vice president of analysis for STRATFOR.
(This report is republished with permission of STRATFOR.)
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