Both within and outside the region, the Caucasus is increasingly described as a time bomb waiting for a major upheaval. To prove this case, observers and analysts list recent negative developments, or the lack of positive ones: the oil “boom” has gone “bust”, the ethnic conflicts are no closer to a solution than six years ago and pose a constant impediment to stability, development and democracy; Chechnya is in flames again; corruption and popular impoverishment are reaching new heights; leaders are aging or weakened. As if this was not enough, external meddling in Caucasian states’ affairs is on the ris

e again. Since Vladimir Putin came to power in Russia in mid-1999 and launched the second Chechen war, South Caucasian states have found themselves increasingly pressurized by Moscow, in particular the perhaps weakest of the three states, Georgia. The present situation raises several questions. First, are alarmist reports warranted? How bad is the situation in the Caucasus, and what are the direct threats to its stability? Is there a potential following for the often-mentioned social explosion? Turning to the role of Russia, is there a Russian attempt to reassert control over the Caucasus? How does Moscow’s current policy fit into the pattern of the 1990s? And finally, what can the US and Europe do, once they have understood the characteristics of the situation, to alleviate the problems?

The optimism of the late 1990s

Three years ago, there was hope in the air in the Caucasus. The brutal Chechen war had by August 1996 ended in a humiliating Russian defeat, revitalizing pro-western forces in the South and appearing to trash Russian imperialist designs on the independent states. An ‘oil boom’ was rapidly changing the face of Azerbaijan’s capital, Baku, accompanied with increasing international interest in the region both in the business and political realms. Pipeline politics looked rather promising, with the Baku-Supsa pipeline being built to carry ‘early oil’ to markets, and progress on the eventual implementation on the Main Export Pipeline from Baku via Tbilisi to Ceyhan. The TRACECA transport corridor project was being launched, aiming to make the Caucasus a throughway in Europe-Asia commerce; these effects were especially heralded in Azerbaijan and Georgia, whereas Armenia remained mainly on the side of these economic projects. However, Armenia muddled through thanks to its Diaspora, enjoyed enviable political stability, even accounting for the palace coup unseating Levon Ter-Petrosyan in early 1998, and was making some notable structural reforms. Democratization progressed, somewhat slowly, but Georgia was accepted into the Council of Europe in 1999. Economic development, it was hoped, would contribute to the resolution of the debilitating ethnic conflicts. The overshadowing conflict, that between Armenia and Azerbaijan, twice seemed to move toward an imminent solution. The first was when Ter-Petrosyan accepted the OSCE Minsk Group’s ‘phased solution’ approach, only to be forced to step down from power partly due to his conciliatory attitude. His successor, the former president of the self-proclaimed Mountainous Karabakh republic, President Robert Kocharian, soon realized the imperative of resolving the conflict through compromise, and was arguably in a stronger position to push a deal through the Armenian political system than his predecessor had been. At no time was the conflict closer to a solution than in the late Summer of 1999, when direct negotiations between Kocharian and Azerbaijani president Heydar Aliyev brought about a considerable change of atmosphere in the peace process. According to sources in leading positions in the two countries, a preliminary agreement on principles was to be signed at the November OSCE Istanbul summit.[1]

The Fall of 1999 was nevertheless a breaking point in the region. Of course, ominous signs had existed before that. The attempt on Georgian President Eduard Shevardnadze’s life in February 1998 shook the region; there remained considerable doubt regarding the economic viability of the Baku-Ceyhan pipeline, and oil exploration was partly disappointing. However, the discovery of large Natural Gas resources in Azerbaijan’s Shah-Deniz field compensated for this, and served to diversify Azerbaijan’s future export earnings. Most worrying, however, was the failure of the Chechen leadership to, having won the war, also win the peace. Chechnya’s failure in building a functioning state was certainly to a great extent related to the abhorrent conditions faced by Chechen leaders, war psychology among its youth, and the absence or disappearance of reconstruction money from Moscow. Moreover, Moscow consistently undermined Chechnya’s attempts to reach out to the world and develop a functional economy and polity. Internally, the Chechen political system displayed its inability to stay united in peacetime and to recognize the authority of the legitimately elected political leadership. Warlords and regional leaders asserted their autonomy, and President Maskhadov’s government’s authority dwindled. Chechnya became a no-go area for foreigners due to the surge in criminality, smuggling, and abductions for ransom, and what is more, affected its surrounding regions negatively. Dagestan, in particular, was affected by Chechnya’s instability. Certain political groups in both republics were actively working for a union of the two, a united and independent Islamic Emirate. However, both official Grozny and official Makhachkala, not to speak of Moscow, repudiated the idea, although little was done to thwart the activities of the ‘unionists’.

The Fall of 1999 and the dashing of hopes

Events in Chechnya and Armenia during the Fall of 1999 undid much of the optimism mentioned above. Although, as will be mentioned, more underlying factors also built up the crisis atmosphere reigning in the Caucasus at the beginning of the present decade, two events are symptomatic of the downturn of the regional situation: the renewed war in Chechnya, and the destabilization of the Armenian political scene.

Chechnya

In August 1999, a Chechnya-based ‘Islamic militia’ under the command of Chechen field commander Shamil Basayev and the Jordanian-born Khattab invaded border districts of Southwestern Dagestan, prompting a Russian military reaction. Meanwhile mysterious explosions destroyed several apartment buildings in Moscow, killing close to two hundred people. With officials blaming ‘Chechen terrorists’ for the bombings, Russian public opinion turned rapidly in favor of war, and provided a ground for the renewed Russian invasion of Chechnya a month later. This episode is full of enigmatic and contradictory elements. The apartment bombings in Moscow are the most mysterious, given that they were never linked by evidence to Chechens, and that no action of the type has occurred in Russia ever since. Moreover, the federal security services were caught placing explosives in the basement of a building in Ryazan just South of Moscow only days after one of the Moscow explosions. The FSB officials claimed it had been a training exercise, but did not explain the need to use genuine explosives for this ‘exercise’, and despite the immense implications thereof, speculation mounted in Russia and abroad that the FSB had been responsible for the earlier explosions. The decision by Basayev and Khattab to invade Dagestan is equally mystifying. As the fighters, composed mainly of ethnic Dagestanis (mainly Avars from Southwestern Dagestan) as well as Chechens and others, occupied villages, they were genuinely startled to see that they were not welcomed as liberators by the locals, which they obviously expected. It is difficult to understand what Basayev and Khattab’s actual aims were. Did they really think they could occupy Dagestan with less than two thousand fighters? More likely, their intelligence sources had apparently led them to believe Dagestan was ready for rebellion against Russia, and that their invasion would be the triggering factor in a popular revolt that Russia would have no chance of suppressing. Given that the reality was totally different—most Dagestanis fought side by side with Russian forces to defend their villages from what they obviously interpreted as a foreign invasion—the question is where Basayev and Khattab’s intelligence reports had originated, and how they could be so far from the truth. Even more interesting is that regional experts in the U.S. military claim they were informed by Moscow already in April 1999 of a plan of military action in Chechnya in the Fall, with the month of August specifically mentioned. The fact that August was indeed the month when dramatic events seemingly outside Moscow’s control unfolded is perplexing, to say the least.

 In any case, these events were instrumental in bringing about the sacking of Russian prime minister Sergei Stepashin, and his replacement by Vladimir Putin, the little-known head of the intelligence forces. Putin immediately capitalized on the public opinion switch, launched himself as a strong and vigorous leader able to forcefully handle Russia’s problems, and moved to strike the problem at its roots—in Chechnya. Whereas Stepashin had publicly expressed his fear that Russia ‘might lose Dagestan’, Putin quelled the rebellion within two weeks, and subsequently sent Russian troops into Chechnya, easily occupying the northern lowlands of Chechnya without much fighting. As had probably been the plan, Putin’s popularity skyrocketed. Then, on New Year’s Eve, Boris Yeltsin announced his resignation from the presidency, paving the way for Putin’s succession, legitimized through a March 2000 election which, incidentally, included severe irregularities.

Armenia

Meanwhile, in Armenia, a slight pro-western trend had begun to emerge during 1999, based on obvious disenchantment with Armenia’s dependence on Russia, which had not brought it anything concrete except tons of Russian arms and military equipment. The increased US role in the mediation process had been silently welcomed, as Armenia, much like Azerbaijan, saw the US as a power genuinely interested in peace. Georgian and Azerbaijani officials and independent observes had continuously been arguing that Russia did not desire peace in the Caucasus. The only way for Moscow to maintain its interests and role in the region, accordingly, was to divide and rule, maintaining an entrenched Armenia dependent on Russian military supplies against Azerbaijan and Turkey. Resolution of the Mountainous Karabakh conflict would make Armenia far less dependent on Russia, and therefore decrease Russia’s influence in the region. Towards the end of the 1990s, an increasing number of Armenian voices echoed this perception, prompting a re-evaluation of Armenian interests and priorities. Prime Minister Vazgen Sarkissian had, despite his image as a Russian ally, established a good rapport with the American administration, and Armenia seemed to act on its declared policy of ‘complimentarity’ in foreign policy, hoping to be able to boost relations with Washington while safeguarding its Russian alliance. The Armenian political spectrum had found a functioning balance among its three main figures, president Kocharian, Prime Minister Sarkissian, and parliament speaker Karen Demirchian. The prospects of solving the Mountainous Karabakh issue or at least bringing it considerably forward seemed to have a base in a broad consensus among these three political figures. But on the evening of 27 October 1999, Sarkissian escorted US deputy secretary of state Strobe Talbott to the airport, concluding the latter’s his first-ever visit to the Caucasus. Upon returning to the parliament and addressing a plenary session, Sarkissian was shot dead, together with Demirchian and other leading figures, by a mysterious group of terrorists. The truth behind this terrorist attack has never been solved and may never be. But it shattered Armenia’s political stability. Circles close to President Kocharian were accused of complicity, and senior figures taken in for questioning. Speculations and insinuations multiplied, whereas the investigation process became politicized and lost the confidence of the population. No one seems to believe the crime will be resolved; more interestingly, the common feeling in Armenia today seems to be fear of the truth: no one wants to know who, if anybody, was behind the killings.

The consequence was a reduction of President Kocharian’s power and legitimacy, an escalated political role of the military, and an increasingly fragmented political scene. With his position weakened, Kocharian had little prospect of having a peace deal, which would require serious compromise on both sides, approved in Armenia. After all, Kocharian had been one of the masterminds behind the unseating of Ter-Petrosyan and was very aware of the danger of the same happening to himself should he sign a compromise deal.

Heydar Aliyev, too, had certainly drawn a lesson from Ter-Petrosyan’s demise. Whereas the population in both countries had grown extremely war-weary by the late 1990s and desired nothing but peace and development, the fact remained that the political opposition was both nationalistic and strong both in Armenia and Azerbaijan. Despite their authoritarian tendencies, the two countries have at various occasions shown that the leadership needs to gauge the political consequences of their actions. Neither Aliyev nor Kocharian could force a peace deal detrimental to their national interest through their respective political systems, as is often believed by observers simplistically defining these countries, and especially Azerbaijan, as one-man dictatorships.

The regional picture

Beyond these major events, earlier expectations were not coming through.[2] Peace remained elusive in the region, with an awkward ‘no peace, no war’ situation dominating for the better part of a decade. Meanwhile, the 1998 drop in oil prices to under US$10/barrel had rendered Caspian oil temporarily unprofitable. Baku’s oil boom suddenly seemed to be very hollow; several companies closed up and left the city in order to cut losses. Only the Shah-Deniz find in mid-1999 re-energized the oil business, rendering some hope that after all, there were substantial reserves in the Caspian. The mid-2000 Kashagan find in Kazakhstan’s sector corroborates this. Most worrying, however, were two related, ‘structural’ developments. First of all, the population of the Caucasus saw no improvement to their abhorrent living conditions. Promises of imminent wealth and economic improvement came to nothing, with a worsening energy situation in both Georgia and Azerbaijan, shortages causing heating and electricity supplies to fail during the winter of 1999-2000. Development projects remained inadequate, largely due to the unresolved conflicts and an unwarranted perception that development can only take place after conflict resolution; only a glance at the quality of the livestock and grains that produce the staple foods of the Caucasus show how much could be done with comparatively little effort to improve living conditions. Second, political apathy is on the rise. People are disenchanted with politics, government, opposition, democracy, elections, and anything related thereto, even independence. The social bulwark of support for the political classes is rapidly shrinking, mainly due to mismanagement and the indescribable levels of corruption in all spheres of life. The lack of turnout in national elections—official figures may show turnout of 60-80 percent but the reality is between 20 and 30—is related partly to a (generally indisputable) feeling that voting is useless due to fraud, but also to the fact that most people really see the opposition forces as no better than the incumbent regimes. Few would object to authoritarian but effective leaders reinstalling ‘order’ and able to put the countries on their feet, be it at the expense of political liberties. Stability in both Azerbaijan and Georgia depends to a worrying extent on the personal authority of their respective presidents. Political maneuvering in both countries is geared on succession politics. In Georgia, tensions within the ruling Citizen’s Union are checked chiefly by Shevardnadze’s authority, and it is unlikely that the diverse party can survive the forced or voluntary retirement of Shevardnadze. In Azerbaijan, the problem is even more pronounced.[3] Whereas Shevardnadze is in good health at 73 years of age, the 78-year old Heydar Aliyev is weakened by a heart surgery in 1999. Currently, he seems to be grooming his son Ilham as his successor. Ilham appeared on all electoral posters of the ruling New Azerbaijan Party in the campaign for the 2000 parliamentary elections. However, the falsification of the election could not hide Ilham’s lack of popularity, instead showing the strength, despite its internal divisions, of the opposition. Ilham was not chosen as speaker of parliament, as had been forecasted, perhaps due to a realization by the regime that his association with an illegitimate parliament could harm his standing rather than boost it.[4] Meanwhile, divisions within the ruling party are increasing. Most importantly, the head of the presidential apparatus, Ramiz Mekhtiev, is seen as a figure with possible presidential aspirations that are countered by the younger wing of the party. But much like in Georgia, politics are geared to the ultimate retirement of the President. Elements of insecurity abound. The risk of mysterious assassination attempts against top political leaders is a constant factor to be weighed into any analysis; President Shevardnadze miraculously escaped death on two occasions, in 1995 and 1998 respectively, as attacks on his armored limousine left his bodyguards dead and a burning wreckage of the car. The attack on the Armenian parliament was successful, on the other hand, and to that followed by an attempt on the life of Mountainous Karabakh’s self-proclaimed president Arkady Ghukasyan that left him seriously wounded. Security measures have been beefed up, but no one knows if, when or where a new attempt on a Caucasian leader’s life will occur, and whether it will be successful. The Caucasian polities do not possess strong institutions capable of handling sudden, or even planned, successions of power, and risk being bogged down by personal rivalries and foreign meddling in the eventual transitions of power.

The role of Russia: Renewed pressure on the Caucasus

In all of this, where does Russia fit in? Views on the former hegemonic power of the Caucasus and Central Asia vary greatly. On the one end of the spectrum, russophile forces in European and North American politics and press view Moscow as a power defending its legitimate interests in its near abroad, exposed to encroachment by the hostile and imperialistic NATO alliance. The imperative, according to them, is to keep Russia’s process of political democratization and economic reform on track. Being too hard on Russia and denying it the status of a great power would create a ‘Weimar syndrome’, and fuel the already strong nationalist, anti-western, and imperialist forces personified by Vladimir Zhirinovsky. Russia needs to be appeased, lest a backlash obliterate the progress made since the fall of the Berlin wall. Encouraging the Caucasian states’ ‘irresponsible’ yearn for NATO membership is, accordingly, out of the question. As for Chechnya, Russia is seen as defending not only itself but the rest of the free world against the specter of Islamic Fundamentalism. Hence whereas Russia’s overkill of violence is regrettable, there is a wide understanding of its imperatives to quell the unrest in Chechnya. On the other hand, other observers see Russia as basically the cause of all evil that has happened in the Caucasus, Central Asia, and elsewhere in the 1990s. Russia is seen as pursuing a clear-cut imperialistic policy, bullying its smaller neighbors into obedience through overt and covert measures including the manipulation of ethnic tensions, subversive methods and assassinations of political leaders, economic coercion, etc. Russia needs to realize that imperial thinking is outdated, that territorial control is no longer the sole evidence of power and influence, that it take its place as a European nation like others, relinquishing its claims on influence over its neighbors. As for Islamic fundamentalism, Russia created the calamity in Chechnya by its 1994 invasion, when the Chechens were not significantly using Islamic symbols in their struggle. Without international support for reconstruction, Chechnya had no choice but to choose the Islamic path to stay alive.[5]

Analyzing the political developments of the last 18 months, however, there is a clear tendency. Since Vladimir Putin’s arrival to power, Russian foreign and domestic policies have gone through a qualitative change. Internally, the Kremlin has cracked down on one of the main successes of Russian democracy, the independent media which displayed all the horrors of the first Chechen war. Moreover, president Putin has attempted to centralize power in the executive, as illustrated by the creation of the seven super-regions, aimed partly at reducing the authority of the ethnic republics; basically, Russia is slipping into increased authoritarianism. Externally, Moscow has been increasing its profile in both the Caucasus and Central Asia; has been more aggressive in dealing with its neighbors; has been utilizing its remaining levers on Caucasian states to the extreme, and threatened them with military action over alleged support for Chechen rebels. The chief target has been Georgia, the perhaps weakest state of the Caucasus. The most direct example is Russia’s imposition of a visa regime on Georgia, allegedly in order to prevent Chechen fighters from crossing the border between the two countries. Whereas this move has grave economic implications for Georgia given that Georgians working in Russia remit around a billion dollars a year to their families in Georgia.[6] However, Russia waived the visa requirement for Georgian citizens from the breakaway regions of Abkhazia and South Ossetia, which are outside Tbilisi’s control. This move is a clear violation of Georgia’s territorial integrity.

In addition, Russia has at selected occasions been cutting gas supplies to Georgia, thereby causing a breakdown of the electricity network. The last instance took place this winter, when the capital Tbilisi received as little as four hours of electricity a day, and rural regions were totally cut off.[7] Russia, and some of its friends such as Greece, maintains that this is a simple commercial dispute concerning Georgian failure to pay its debts. But looking at the evidence, Russia’s actions can hardly be legitimized by commercial concerns. The timings of the cutting of energy to Georgia have been carefully chosen: just before parliamentary elections; just before presidential elections; or during negotiations over the status of Russian military bases in Georgia, such as currently. Clearly, political concerns dominate. This is proven by the fact that the American company AES, responsible for electricity supplies in Tbilisi, also saw its supplies cut in spite of having paid in advance for deliveries. Likewise, Russia openly linked the imposition of a visa regime on Georgia, affecting its large émigré population in Russia, to Georgian concessions on reneging on its earlier demands to close the two Russian military bases in Vaziani and Gudauta. Clearly, Russia’s recent pressure toward Georgia is a desperate attempt to cling on to its military presence in that country.

With regard to Azerbaijan, Moscow has adopted a slightly different policy. Rather than using the stick as in Georgia’s case, the Kremlin is trying the carrot. Given Heydar Aliyev’s apparent design to launch Ilham as his successor, and the indeed very faulty parliamentary elections of November 2000 that damaged Azerbaijan’s image internationally, Moscow seems to have believed that Azerbaijan could be distracted from its hitherto decidedly pro-western course. In the fall of 2000, Russian press (by now state-controlled) began issuing reports portraying Ilham Aliyev in a positive light, and president Putin himself publicly spoke well of the ‘throne pretendent’. Moscow proposed a military partnership to Baku, also hinting at developing a more benevolent stance in the Armenian-Azerbaijani conflict. In January 2001, Putin visited Baku, hoping to extract significant concessions. Clearly, by applying the ‘stick’ to Georgia and the ‘carrot’ to Azerbaijan, the policy was geared to disturbing and if possible breaking up the increasingly solid Georgian-Azerbaijani axis. This has been consistent with Russia’s policy of weakening the increasingly solid GUUAM alliance of Georgia, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan and Moldova. The Georgian-Azerbaijani axis is arguably the most important one in the chain GUUAM and Silk Road chain, geographically linking Central Asia to Eastern Europe. Recent reports of Romanian and Polish interests in joining GUUAM have undoubtedly increased fears in Moscow of GUUAM’s institutionalization rendering the CIS utterly dispensable.[8]

However, at first sight, Putin’s visit seems to have been a failure. Although western press, undoubtedly relying heavily on reports from the state-controlled Russian media, talk of stark Azerbaijani concessions, nothing of the kind can be witnessed on the ground—however, very little s known of what was secretly discussed in Baku between presidemts Aliyev and Putin. It nevertheless remains apparent that Russia is again trying to assert its exclusive influence over the Caucasian states. The question is if, and how, the current Russian actions fit into the general pattern of Russian foreign policy since the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Are the present efforts to pressure Caucasian states merely tactical moves with short-term political motivations, or do they form part of a larger strategy? There is clear evidence pointing to the latter. In fact, a review of Caucasian developments in the 1990s from Moscow’s perspective is helpful in bringing the current situation into the larger picture.

The 1990s reviewed

At the end of the 1980s, the Caucasus was slipping out of Soviet control. Nationalist forces had come to dominate politics in both Armenia and Georgia. This carried few external implications, but nationalist agitation was also mounting in Azerbaijan, the largest of the Caucasian states and the only one with kinship ties to external powers such as Turkey and Iran. In order to quell the unrest in the region and restore Soviet control, the Soviet military suppressed a peaceful demonstration in Tbilisi on 9 April 1989, killing 20 people. The horrors of this operation were placated by the inaugural event of the 1990s: the bloody and brutal Soviet crackdown on a nationalist demonstration in Baku on 20 January 1990—an event whose 11^th anniversary will be commemorated on Saturday. Naturally, these two events only served to bolster anti-Soviet and nationalist feeling among the populations of Georgia and Azerbaijan.

Dissolution, independence, and the beginning of ‘reconquista’[9]

In late 1991, the union dissolved, catapulting Armenia, Azerbaijan and Georgia to independence. All three were plagued by ethnic conflict: Armenia and Azerbaijan with each other, and Georgia with its separatist province of South Ossetia, with problems in its Northwestern region of Abkhazia still unsettled. Independence meant an imminent and very tangible loss of Moscow’s control over the Caucasus. Furthermore, a fourth republic had declared independence in the same period as the three mentioned states: under the leadership of a former air force General, Jokhar Dudayev, Chechnya aspired to membership in the community of independent nations, thereby seceding not only from the Soviet Union but also from the Russian Federation. However, as will be seen shortly, Moscow initially focused its energy on reasserting control over the South Caucasus, ignoring the Chechens’ de-facto independence for almost three years. Interestingly, this corresponds very well to the Russian incorporation of the Caucasus in the 19^th century. In fact, Russia achieved control of the South Caucasus through peace treaties with Iran in 1813 and 1828, by which date Russian control was indisputable. But the struggle continued in the North Caucasus for three decades. Only in 1859 were the Chechen-Dagestani rebellions subdued, whereas the Circassian tribes kept fighting until 1864.

The reconquista can be said to have begun almost immediately after the dissolution of the union. Moscow was heavily involved in the conflict over South Ossetia, threatening military action against Georgia on more than one occasion, and played an important role in all conflicts of the region given its ability to provide arms for various fighting factions, often simultaneously. Overtly, a clear Russian policy towards the South Caucasus evolved rapidly, based on three major principles. Firstly, the Caucasian states should be members of the Commonwealth of Independent States (Azerbaijan had not ratified membership in this organization, and Georgia never signed it). Secondly, the ‘external’ borders—meaning Soviet external borders with Iran and Turkey—of these states were to be guarded by Russian border troops. Thirdly, Russian military bases should be present on the territory of the three states. This, again, was overtly declared Russian policy.

Armenia and Georgia: the early successes

In practice, Moscow first succeeded in asserting control over Armenia. This was logical, given Yerevan’s rapidly developing involvement in warfare on the territory of Azerbaijan. Turkey’s increasingly pro-Azerbaijani stance, and its economic embargo enforced on the country compelled Armenia to accept any support it could receive, and Russia was more than forthcoming. A military agreement was signed in May 1992, whereby Armenia complied to the three Russian demands mentioned above. After Armenia, Russian policy focused on Georgia. In July 1992, Moscow enforced a cease-fire agreement between Georgia and South Ossetia which led to South Ossetia’s de facto independence, and the interposition of Russian troops on the administrative border separating the former autonomous region from the rest of Georgia. Continuously, Russia had offered Georgia military assistance conditional on its acquiescence to Russia’s three demands. Georgia, led by former Soviet foreign minister Eduard Shevardnadze since March 1992, refused. As soon as the guns went silent in South Ossetia, turmoil began in the northwestern Autonomous republic of Abkhazia. Abkhaz leaders displayed a self-confident attitude and claimed that Abkhazia was ‘strong enough to fight Georgia’ in spite of a debilitating numerical inferiority: the Abkhaz nation numbers only 100,000 individuals, whereas Georgians are over four million. As Abkhazia reverted to its 1925 constitution, amounting to a declaration of independence, undisciplined and uncontrolled Georgian paramilitary forces invaded Abkhazia, committing grave violations on their way. By October, Georgian forces faced a well-armed Abkhaz counteroffensive, supported by heavy artillery, North Caucasian volunteers, and air support. The origins of these weapons are mysterious, acquired at a time when Abkhaz forces possessing mainly handguns were entrenched near the Abkhaz-Russian border. Later in the war, Russia’s direct involvement was blatantly exposed as an unmarked Sukhoi fighter was shot down, whose pilot turned out to be a Russian air force officer in full uniform. By October 1993, Abkhazia had militarily gained the upper hand, evicted Georgian forces as well as over 200,000 ethnic Georgian civilians from the territory of Abkhazia. Again, Russia during the entire war offered Georgia direct military support should it consent to the three Russian demands of CIS membership, Russian border troops and military bases. Georgia kept refusing, and hence lost Abkhazia. After the loss of Abkhazia, a large-scale mutiny suddenly took place in the Georgian military, threatening to lead to the total disintegration of the Georgian state. Shevardnadze was forced to accept Russia’s demands, and Russian forces moved in to crush the mutiny as quickly as it had emerged. Russia took control over Georgia’s Turkish borders, and established four military bases in strategic locations around Georgia: at Vaziani just outside the capital; in Gudauta in Abkhazia; in Batumi in Ajaria, an autonomous republic independently ruled by a local chieftain; and in Akhalkalaki, center of the restive Armenian minority. Georgia however never ratified these agreements, making the legal status of the Russian military presence highly doubtful.

Azerbaijan: a narrow failure

The center of events had during Summer 1993 moved to Azerbaijan. In early 1993, a successful Azerbaijani military commander in the war with Armenia, Surat Husseinov, had withdrawn his troops from the front, leading to the Azerbaijani loss of Kelbajar to the west of Karabakh. He retreated to his home town of Ganja, where the Russian 104^th airborne regiment was based. Husseinov established his quarters next door to the Russian military base. Earlier, the Azerbaijani government had managed to secure Russian agreement to withdraw the base by the end of 1993, despite Russian assurances that if granted a long-term presence, the 104^th regiment could be very useful to Azerbaijan in its war with Armenia.

In late May 1993, without informing the Azerbaijani government, the 104^th regiment suddenly left Azerbaijan. Only, they left the better part of their armament in Ganja, arms that were immediately appropriated by Husseinov. The latter then moved to challenge the government’s authority, demanded president Elchibey’s resignation, and marched on Baku. As the regular army did not challenge Husseinov’s advance (it is unclear whether they were ordered not to shoot or whether they simply disobeyed orders) the government crumbled. Elchibey appointed Heydar Aliyev, Azerbaijan’s former Communist leader and a major political figure in the Soviet Union’s early 1980s, speaker of parliament. When Elchibey left Baku several days later, Aliyev became caretaker president. In a sense, it can be said that Aliyev stole the coup from Husseinov. Aliyev was forced to strike a deal with Husseinov, and the latter assumed the position of prime minister, as well as the portfolios of defense and interior. Azerbaijan suffered heavily from the coup: an army in disarray now fled Armenian advances to the south and east of Karabakh, leading to the ethnic cleansing of an additional several hundred thousand Azerbaijanis. Aliyev implemented Azerbaijan’s accession to the CIS, and promised substantial discussions on basing rights and border troops, but demanded that wait until the war in Karabakh ended. Aliyev was thereby able to obtain the release of armaments from Soviet military depots, and could now thwart the Armenian offensive and even regain some lost ground. By early 1994, the conflict had come to an equally hurting stalemate for both sides, and a cease-fire was signed, which has held ever since.

Aliyev nevertheless proved to be a master negotiator, and continued to refuse Russian border troops or military bases. Instead, he focused on developing the oil resources of the Caspian sea, and speeded up negotiations with foreign, mainly American, oil companies. Hence Azerbaijan started slipping away even before Russia had managed to get a grip on it. Development of oil resources with American and western companies would not only bring Azerbaijan economic resources, it would also increase the country’s value in western capitals, and increase western interest in the region. Even officially, Russia remained adamantly opposed to unilateral exploitation of oil resources by littoral states of the Caspian. Hence it should have come as no surprise that only days after the signing of a US$7 billion oil deal that earned the name ‘the contract of the century’, Husseinov attempted another coup, this time to unseat Aliyev. Aliyev nevertheless managed to capitalize on his public support to deflect the coup, forcing Husseinov to flee the country. Aliyev had thus managed both to secure an albeit detrimental cease-fire and to rid himself of his main contender for power. Azerbaijan did not look set to succumb to Russian influence anytime soon.

One way of controlling Azerbaijan, however, was through the very factor which could bring it true independence: its oil resources. The only operational pipeline able to carry Azerbaijani oil to world markets was the Baku-Novorossiysk pipeline, or the so-called ‘northern route’. Oil companies were to decide on the main export route, and faced a major challenge in identifying the best route. The most economic route through Iran was ruled out for political reasons; a pipeline to the Turkish Mediterranean coast was both expensive and dangerous, passing through or in the vicinity of areas that were then plagued by a bloody war between Turkish troops and the Kurdish-Marxist separatist PKK. Clearly, oil companies would tend to prefer the existing Russian route, which could be upgraded for a reasonable cost to carry the envisaged amounts of oil. The only problem was that the pipeline route passed through Chechnya, where an erratic nationalist general was presiding over a self-proclaimed independent state that the oil companies would be unlikely to entrust their oil resources to. Whereas Moscow would have preferred to, just like in the 19^th century, establish control over the South Caucasus before dealing with the problems in the North, Russian predominance in Azerbaijan had now become directly related to control of Chechnya. Numerous other factors intervened, but a major reason for the imperative to invade Chechnya in late 1994 was undoubtedly related to Azerbaijani oil.

Chechnya: the remedy that wasn’t, and the slipping of the Caucasus

Imagining for a moment that Russia had succeeded in subduing Chechnya, it is fairly likely that it would  also have succeeded in remaining the dominant power in the South Caucasus. However, that did not happen. After months of fighting that revealed the incompetence and brutality of the Russian armed forces, Chechen rebels managed to conquer Grozny in August 1996 in the perhaps most important event of the Caucasus in the 1990s—save the dissolution of the Soviet Union. The victory of the Chechens and the utter humiliation of the Russian forces dramatically changed the profile of the Caucasus. Azerbaijan increased its pro-western orientation and investments in its oil industry grew at a massive speed; it was joined by Georgia, which despite its Russian troops and border guards developed an equally pro-western attitude adamantly opposed to Russian imperialism. In Central Asia, Uzbekistan joined in the chorus, with president Islam Karimov denouncing perhaps more harshly than anyone the imperial tendencies and policies of the Kremlin. Western attention grew commensurately: The U.S. in particular declared its strong interest in the region by early 1997, with the EU moving in to sponsor the TRACECA transport corridor program, most overtly by a 1998 conference in Baku fittingly entitled the ‘Silk Road’. After its miscalculations in the early 1990s, Turkey now re-engaged the Caucasian states, supporting the restructuring of the Azerbaijani military and rapidly developing its ties to Georgia to the level of a strategic partnership. By 1998, Georgia and Azerbaijan openly spoke of their aim of NATO membership, Azerbaijan even going so far as to float the idea of NATO military bases on its territory. Meanwhile, Russia desperately hung on to its regional anchor Armenia, delivering among other complimentary arms shipments worth over US$ one billion. Likewise, as Uzbekistan challenged Russian authority in and in fact launched itself as a regional power in Central Asia, rivaling Russia, Moscow adopted a similar policy and focused on military and political ties to its de facto protectorate, Tajikistan. By 1999, even Armenia had begun to question its excessive dependence on Russia, and Armenian leaders became frequent visitors in Washington. Imminent headway in negotiations over Mountainous Karabakh threatened to deprive Moscow of its Caucasian anchor, as peace with Azerbaijan would also in all likelihood lead to the partial normalization of Turkish-Armenian relations, and thereby reduce dramatically Armenia’s dependence on Moscow.

Chechnya, round two: dealing with the problem at its roots

If this was indeed the perception in Moscow, the root of Russia’s weakness must also have been easy to identify: Chechnya. It was the defeat in Chechnya that had relegated Russia from a superpower to a second-range power; that had emboldened anti-Russian and pro-western forces in the South Caucasus and arguably also Central Asia; that had extinguished the prospects of the Baku-Novorossiysk pipeline. In fact, it was the defeat in Chechnya that prevented Moscow from projecting its influence in the South Caucasus while other powers increasingly did so. Only by addressing the problem t its roots, obliterating the source of instability and restoring firm control over the North Caucasus could Russia reclaim its lost ground in the South. This would also send a signal to the west that Russia was not to be discounted, that the Caucasus would remain a Russian prerogative, and that western involvement there would take place on Russia’s terms.

Initially, the policy seemed to pay off. The Russian military seemed to have learnt some from its last failures, and moreover, the rhetoric emanating from Tbilisi, Baku, and Tashkent suddenly softened dramatically. Everyone’s eyes were set on Chechnya; leaders knew very well that if Chechnya succumbed to Russian arms, Moscow’s reconquista would not stop there—someone would be next. President Putin also showed his diplomatic skills. When the army was caught using vacuum bombs on Chechen civilians, or when the executive cracked down on the independent media, Mr. Putin toured European capitals, telling European leaders exactly what they wanted to hear: Russia is not slipping into authoritarianism, it merely needs to establish law and order, protect itself against Islamic ‘terrorism’, and crack down on corruption. The President thereby ensured European criticism would remain at a manageable level. Whereas the U.S. would be a tougher nut to crack, Mr. Putin was aided by America’s preoccupation with its upcoming presidential election. It is hardly a coincidence that Russia’s latest arm-twisting on Georgia, including the cutting of energy-supplies and the introduction of a visa regime, occurred precisely when world attention was concentrated on the hung presidential election in Florida. Russia justifies its pressure on Georgia by alleged Georgian support for the Chechen separatists. There is no doubt that individual Chechens use the territories of Azerbaijan and Georgia in order to obtain supplies, or for passage to the outside world. However, the assertion that either Georgia or Azerbaijan is actively and intentionally supporting the Chechen rebels has yet to be ascertained. Moscow has provided little or no evidence to support its allegations, and given the resources of the Georgian and Azerbaijani states, the level of Chechen cross-border activity is actually relatively limited. Russian troops in Tajikistan have proven unable to guard the mountainous border between that country and Afghanistan, and armed militants belonging to the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan have been able to cross that border by the dozens. Russia’s assertion that ‘if Georgia cannot control its border with Chechnya, it should let Russia do so’, hence does not hold up to closer scrutiny.

Presently, Moscow is entangled in a situation in Chechnya from which it seems unable to find a way out. It cannot win the war, neither can it afford to lose it. The high oil prices enable the Kremlin to continue spending billions of dollars on its war effort; however a drop in oil prices would pose a significant challenge to the state finances, which are largely dependent on export of oil, gas, and minerals, and perhaps make the war effort economically untenable. Meanwhile, the option of negotiating with the Chechens is no less attractive. Whereas the Chechen forces were under a unified command in the first war, it is highly doubtful whether this is the case today, partly due to Russia’s actions. Negotiating with Maskhadov is politically a very tough decision for president Putin, who publicly referred to the Chechen leadership as criminals; even if the Kremlin chooses that option, it does not guarantee an end to the war, given that more radical Chechen groups would be likely to challenge Maskhadov’s authority—several field commanders have even threatened to eliminate Maskhadov should he strike a deal with Moscow. In this situation, Chechnya is likely to remain a bleeding wound for Russia; moreover, the situation displays worrying parallels to the earlier developments in Afghanistan: a fragmentation of the warriors, coupled with an increasing Islamic radicalization, the destruction through years of war of the fabric of traditional society, and the creation of a mass of refugees marked by the experience of war and hardship, marks that are unlikely to be erased by time. As in Afghanistan, the risk is apparent of Chechnya developing into a protracted zone of insecurity, criminality, and conflict adversely affecting the entire region, not least adjoining Muslim areas of the Russian Federation. If coupled with this scenario, the South Caucasus fall into increased instability—an event which a succession crisis gone wrong has the possibility to generate—the risk of the meager progress made in the Caucasus in later years being undone is present. Substantially increased Russian pressures on Georgia or Azerbaijan through either covert or overt means, neither of which can be ruled out, is the one factor most likely to exacerbate the situation and plunge the region into instability.

What should be done? The role of the U.S.

U.S. and European policies toward the Caucasus and Central Asia have been torn between two lines of thought. One line claims these regions do not present any vital interests, are too far away, too volatile, and are not significant enough either strategically or in energy matters to warrant a high-profile engagement. Moreover, too great a level of involvement in these countries is likely to jeopardize relations with Russia. From an American perspective, the task of achieving a deal with Russia on missile defense, additionally, dictates a need to grant Moscow concessions in its ‘near abroad’. Moreover, again in this line of thought, Russia is needed to combat Islamic fundamentalism, bring Osama Bin Laden to justice, counter the Taliban in Afghanistan, and perhaps also to counterbalance a rising China. In view of these larger goals, the Caucasus is expendable, especially if Moscow is willing to let American firms operate freely in the region. In the region itself, Washington’s recent joining of forces with Moscow over Afghanistan is seen an example of this; furthermore there are fears that a more national interest-oriented approach, as expected with the Bush administration, will come to these conclusions.

Central Eurasia’s importance to the west

Especially from a national interest-oriented approach, there are compelling reasons to refute such a Russia-first policy. The Caucasus and Central Asia are areas that carry a deep importance for Eurasian security, and affect the west profoundly. First, the region’s chronic instability permits the operation and growth of terrorist movements that often have a global and specifically anti-American scope. Second, and related to this, the surge of the drugs trade throughout the region targets western societies and provides a major source of funding for terrorist groupings. Third, the Caspian is an emerging oil producing region vital to unimpeded energy access, and an important alternative to Middle Eastern oil on which the developed world is increasingly dependent. Finally, regional conflicts in this volatile area have the potential of developing into major power confrontations that cannot but affect the security of the U.S. and its allies. Arguing that the west lacks interests in this region is hence untenable.

As for the possibility of working in tandem with Russia, the U.S. and the Europeans have spent a decade trying to portray their activities in this region to the Russian leadership as a win-win situation. Russia, it is argued, will benefit as well from the opening up of the region to the world economy. However, the Russian élite to a large degree still reasons in terms of a zero-sum game. Appeasing Russia by granting it concessions in the Caucasus and Central Asia may not necessarily lead it to accept the U.S. stand on other policy priorities such as missile defense. Quite to the contrary, appeasement may be understood as a sign of weakness, prompting increasing Russian inflexibility on such issues.

On a more principal level, the U.S. claim to leadership in today’s world is not based simply on its superior might compared to other states. Rather, the U.S. claims to support freedom and liberal market principles as ways to promote stability and peace. As Zbigniew Brzezinski has noted,  American primacy serves to prevent the emergence of a destructive international anarchy which would in the end affect America itself: there is a historical opportunity for the U.S. to promote an enduring framework for geopolitical cooperation.[10] Nowhere is the risk of such anarchy developing and spreading higher than in Central Eurasia, surrounded as it is by major powers such as Russia, China, India, Pakistan, Iran, and Turkey. The configuration of power in this region is more than anywhere else characterized by multipolarity and instability, and as a result the U.S. by virtue of its global primacy can have a major influence in the developments there. In order to do so, the U.S. needs a strategy. In the late 1990s, the U.S. has been engaging the region, but has done so in an ad hoc manner, with a policy characterized more by reactive tactical measures than proactive policies based in a strategy aiming to affect the situation positively. Basically, the U.S. has not had the initiative in the developments in the region. More than any other power, America has had the potential of projecting stability into this unstable region. However, by its lack of predictability and endemic insecurity regarding its commitment to the regional states, U.S. policy has as often been destabilizing as stabilizing. The recent decision to join forces with Moscow over Afghanistan is an illustration of this. Having been on the sidelines of the Afghanistan conflict in the 1990s, Washington was better positioned than anyone else to act as a mediator in future negotiations between the Taliban and the Northern Alliance, and moreover as a facilitator in the relations among regional powers with interests in Afghanistan. However, Washington forfeited this advantage, made itself a party in the conflict by imposing unilateral sanctions on one of the belligerents, thereby in practice militarily supporting the Northern Alliance.[11]

The imperative of a central Eurasia strategy

The incoming administration needs to address these past setbacks. Most pressingly, it needs to devise a strategy for Central Eurasia, outlining clearly to Russia and regional states its commitment to the region, and clarifying for itself and for the world the place of the region in America’s global strategy. With respect to Russia, Colin Powell’s observation that Russia is ‘neither partner nor enemy’ is fundamentally correct, and likely to remain true in the foreseeable future.[12] While dealing with Russia must remain a high priority, Washington must rid itself of remaining illusions of Russia’s current leadership. The Kremlin in its current configuration is firmly grounded in traditional, zero-sum geopolitical lines of thinking and will continue to formulate its policies accordingly. This may mean there is a certain predictability to Russian policy, once its fundaments are understood, that can be made use of; it also means Moscow’s decisions will be based on rational calculations of power and interests. Washington must convey a clear message to the Russian rulers: there exist standards for the acceptable conduct of international relations to which no state, including Russia, is exempt. The use of vacuum bombs against its own citizens, or the use of subversive methods to destabilize neighboring countries, are practices that clearly do not meet these standards. Continued adherence to such methods, it should be made clear, will lead to commensurate reactions from the west. In this context, Europe shares this important responsibility with the United States. As far as possible, a united approach to Russia and Central Eurasia should be adopted, preventing Russia from its traditional tactics of utilizing rifts between major western powers. The recently inaugurated Swedish presidency of the EU, coinciding with the advent to power of the new American administration, provides an extraordinary opportunity in this regard.

A major priority for the new Administration in Washington is to decide who its friends are. America has gained a reputation of neglecting long-time allies, and, indeed, suddenly giving up on states that are going through difficult times but have previously sacrificed a great deal for the U.S. Turkey, for example, carried a disproportional burden in the Cold War defense of the free world. In the Gulf War, Ankara sacrificed enormous financial resources in solidarity with the U.S. Although American policy on Turkey has remained far better than Europe’s attitude, frustration is growing in Turkey with a lack of solidarity and predictability on the part of America as regards northern Iraq, Cyprus, and not least the ‘Armenian Genocide’ issue. Even more worrisome are the current attitudes in Washington regarding Pakistan. Increasingly, priority is given to relations with India. Whereas India is undoubtedly a major Asian actor, there is no justification for giving in to Indian pressures that relations with India must mean reduced ties to Pakistan. And although U.S. policy-makers occasionally reiterate their commitment to Pakistan, voices in Washington increasingly display a total lack of understanding for the political realities shaping Pakistan’s foreign and domestic policies, for example with relation to Afghanistan. Increasingly, the view in Washington is that the ‘logic behind the U.S.-Pakistani partnership died with the Soviet Union’, as expressed in a recent diatribe.[13] Even worse is the increasing identification of Pakistan as a ‘rogue Islamic state’, showing little understanding for the deep social and political problems of the country. America would be better served by committing itself to supporting the current regime, while engaging Islamabad on areas of disagreement. Especially with respect to Afghanistan, Washington can make use of the fact that Pakistan is actually the only country with some form of influence on the unruly Taliban.

In the Caucasus, the U.S. has so far avoided major mistakes like the one it is currently committing in Pakistan. Yet the administration’s inability to repeal section 907a of the Freedom Support Act of 1992, denying Azerbaijan government-to government assistance, has caused America a lot of goodwill among the Azerbaijani public, and continues to impede American interests in the region. On a more general note, the unpredictability of America’s policies has worried leaders like Aliyev, Shevardnadze and Karimov. In the latter case, Uzbekistan had been one of the globally most pro-American countries during the entire 1990s; when threatened with an Islamic insurgency in 1999, Karimov requested U.S. assistance which was refused—forcing Tashkent to forge closer links to China, hardly something lying in the American interest.[14] In sum, Washington needs to identify crucial geostrategic pillars in Central Eurasia and build its policy based on commitment to and dialogue with these powers. Clear examples of such countries are Turkey, Georgia, Azerbaijan, Uzbekistan and Pakistan. While none of these countries is devoid of problems or ideal democracies and market economies, these are all genuinely pro-western states trying to build their stability and independence, which have all shown a remarkable loyalty to the U.S. in the past. America should reward that. Indeed, engaging these countries will give the west greater influence over their processes of democratization, and the new administration should consider separating democratization issues from security and strategic issues. In addition, there is no reason to withhold U.S. support, direct or indirect, for the GUUAM alliance. The alliance is notable as it is a grouping of states that came into being voluntarily on the basis of common interests, not on coercion. GUUAM has the potential to act to mutually enhance the independence and stability of its member states. Moreover, it can become a key actor in the spheres of peacekeeping, pipeline protection, and cooperation against drug trafficking. As such, both Europe and the U.S. should work with GUUAM and support their cooperative bid.

 

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Author Bio:

Svante E. Cornell is Co-chairman of Cornell Caspian Consulting, and a lecturer in the department s of peace and conflict research and East European Studies, Uppsala University. This article is adapted from a presentation delivered at the Central Asia-Caucasus Institute of the Johns Hopkins University’s Nitze School for Advanced International Studies on 17 January, 2001.