Strategic Developments in Eurasia After 11 September 2003019747, 9780714655857, 9780714684710, 9780429233593

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STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENTS IN EURASIA AFTER 11 SEPTEMBER

Books of Related Interest Is Southeastern Europe Doomed to Instability? A Regional Perspective Dimitri A.Sotiropoulos and Thanos Veremis (eds) Realignments in Russian Foreign Policy Rick Fawn (ed.) Greek-Turkish Relationship in the NATO Context Fotios Moustakis Turkish-American Relations Mustafa Aydin and Cagri Erhan The New Geopolitics of Eurasia and Turkey’s Position Bulent Aras The Caspian Region Moshe Gammer

STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENTS IN EURASIA AFTER 11 SEPTEMBER Editor

SHIREEN HUNTER

First published 2004 by FRANK CASS PUBLISHERS Published 2014 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY, 10017, USA Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business Copyright © 2004 Frank Cass & Co. Ltd British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Strategic developments in Eurasia after 11 September 1. World politics–21st century— 2. Security, International 3. Eurasia—Foreign relations 4. Eurasia—Politics and government–21st century 5. Russia (Federation)—Foreign relations I. Hunter, Shireen 327.5 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Strategic developments in Eurasia after 11 September/editor Shireen Hunter. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. National security—Europe. 2. National securiy—Asia. 3. World politics– 1995–2005. 4. International relations. 5. Security, International. 6. Europe—Strategic aspects. 7. Asia—Strategic aspects. 8. War on Terrorism. 2001– I. Hunter, Shireen. UA646. S76 2004 355´.03305–dc22 2003019747

ISBN 13: 978-0-714-65585-7 (hbk) ISBN 13: 978-0-714-68471-0 (pbk)

This group of studies first appeared as a special issue of Journal of Southeast Europe and Black Sea Studies, ISSN 1468–3857, Vol. 3, No. 3 (September 2003) published by Frank Cass and Co. Ltd. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Contents

Introduction Shireen T.Hunter

1

Toward a Global Geopolitical and Geoeconomic Concert of Powers? Theodore A.Couloumbis

17

NATO-Russia Relations after 11 September Robert E.Hunter

29

Seismic Shifts in Eurasia: The Changing Relationship Between Turkey and Russia and its Implications for the South Caucasus Fiona Hill

57

The Economics and Politics of Caspian Oil Andreas Andrianopoulos

77

Silk Road, Great Game or Soft Underbelly? The New US-Russia Relationship and Implications for Eurasia Celeste A.Wallander

93

Balkan Security: What Security? Whose Security? Spyros Economides

105

The Evolving Security Concern in the Black Sea Economic Cooperation 131 Ioannis Stribis Abstracts

163

Biographical Notes

167

Index

169

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Introduction SHIREEN T.HUNTER

The terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001 on the World Trade Center in New York and the Pentagon in Washington, DC and the crashing of the United Airlines plane in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, shocked not only the United States but the entire world. The events also triggered significant changes in the character of relations among major international and regional actors. Most notably, they generated widespread consensus about the necessity and urgency of dealing with international terrorism which, as demonstrated by the events of 11 September, had acquired new dimensions. Consequently, an important question has arisen: can 11 September be considered as the defining moment of the beginning of the twenty-first century, in terms of the issues of war and peace, the nature of international relations and the character of the international system? And depending on the answer, can at least the first decade of the twenty-first century be characterized as the “post-11 September era?” To answer this question, it is necessary to see how wars have defined important stages of the evolution of the international system in the twentieth century. WAR AND THE INTERNATIONAL SYSTEM IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY The history of the twentieth century was marked by three great wars: the First World War of 1914–1918; the Second World War of 1939–1945; and the Cold War of 1946–1988. Indeed, various periods of the twentieth century were defined in terms of world-changing wars. Thus the period 1919–1939 is known as the ‘inter-war years’. The Cold War years are also often referred to as the post-Second World War era and, of course, the period roughly from 1989 to 2001 is known as the ‘post-Cold War era’, even if chronologically speaking this definition is not strictly correct. Within each of these periods, there were stages with their specific characteristics that were often also defined by wars, albeit of a more limited nature geographically, in terms of destructive impact, and their overall systemic

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consequences. For example, in the Middle East, reference often is made to the era of the post-Suez War of 1956, the post-1967 Arab-Israeli War, the post-October 1973 War and the post-Persian-Gulf War of 1991. The Vietnam War and its aftermath were even more important watersheds in terms of the nature of international relations because of their impact on the United States’ attitudes towards a wide range of global issues and the conduct of US foreign policy. In fact, many aspects of US foreign policy in the 1970s and, to a lesser extent, in the 1980s were affected by the so-called Vietnam syndrome. Most important, the Vietnam War and its consequences affected the US approach to the use of force as an instrument to achieve its global objectives, and it generated reluctance to become deeply involved in regional conflicts or in the management of various regions, with the US preferring to do so through regional allies. The Soviet-Afghan War (1979–1989) did not have immediate global consequences, although it did lead to the enunciation of the Carter Doctrine by the US administration in regard to the Persian Gulf, which stated the US willingness to use force if the Soviet Union went beyond Afghanistan and tried to advance into Iran and hence the Persian Gulf: An attempt by an outside force to gain control of the Persian Gulf region will be regarded as an assault on the vital interests of the United States of America, and such an assault will be repelled by any means necessary, including military force. But the long-term consequences of the Soviet-Afghan War for the nature of international relations and the character of the international political system were enormous, because it contributed to Gorbachev’s policy of internal reform and external accommodation with the Soviet Union’s principal adversary—the US— in the late 1980s. This process ultimately led to the Soviet Union’s demise. In short, by contributing to the Soviet Union’s disintegration, the Soviet-Afghan War helped fundamentally to transform the character of the post-war international system. Moreover, after each of the three major wars—and at times after significant regional wars—there were efforts to shape the character of the international system according to a set of ideas and principles espoused by the major powers. THE INTER-WAR YEARS 1919–1939: FAILED EFFORTS AT CREATING A LAW-BASED WORLD ORDER It is generally agreed that the First World War fundamentally altered the nature of warfare. It was the first war beyond a single continent; it was during this war that civilian casualties reached very high levels, blurring the line between the

INTRODUCTION 3

combatants and civilians; its human cost was the worst ever—the British Empire lost 908,371 killed, France 1,357,800, Russia 2,500,000, Austria-Hungary 1,200,000, and Germany 1,773,700—and for the first time propaganda was used systematically as an instrument of warfare, reached especially high levels and was aimed at demonizing the enemy. The consequences of the war were also life-changing. Two great empires, the Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman, collapsed, although they already had been considerably weakened. Their demise gave birth to a dozen new states extending from the Danube to Euphrates. Some of these new states—the European—were fully independent; others, nearly all Muslim, were under some form of great power tutelage. The collapse of the Tsarist regime in Russia was also hastened by the vagaries of the war, although the Bolsheviks managed to retain—or regain —most of the Tsarss’ colonial possessions, thus perpetuating the empire in the form of the Soviet Union. With hindsight, however, perhaps the most important consequence of the First World War was the emergence of a new global power with a revolutionary ideology for the organization of the world and international relations—the United States of America. Indeed, the emergence of the United States as the embodiment of liberal democracy with a sense of mission to spread its ideals, together with the victory of Bolshevism in Russia with its own universalist and Utopian aspirations, ushered in the ideological age of international relations. The United States had entered the First World War with the proclaimed goal of making ‘the world safe for democracy’. In fact, only two decades after the end of that war, another ideology—Nazism—would plunge the world into another world war. SELF-DETERMINATION AND THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS Viewed from the United States, the First World War was the inevitable culmination of European power politics and imperial rivalries. The nature of the European governments—which, with few exceptions, were either undemocratic or insufficiently so—was the other culprit. The answers that America offered for preventing similar calamitous wars were: (1) the application of the right of national self-determination to all peoples and the spread of democracy; and (2) the creation of an international institution which would guarantee the conduct of inter-state relations on the basis of law and not force. Belief in the power of law was so strong at the time that, on 27 August 1928, the foreign ministers of France and the Unites States brokered a multilateral pact providing for the ‘frank renunciation of war as an instrument of national policy’, in other words to make the settlement of international disputes through force illegal—the famous Briand-Kellogg Pact. Yet the right of self-determination

4 STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENTS IN EURASIA AFTER 11 SEPT

was applied in a skewed and haphazard way, thus sowing the seeds of more future troubles, some of which are still with us. A League of Nations was created. But the refusal of the US Senate to ratify the treaty establishing it effectively meant that it was stillborn. With the United States withdrawing to the safety of its two wide oceans, Europe once again plunged into its old habits of bickering and rivalry. Meanwhile, two totalitarian ideologies, Communism and Fascism, took root in an impoverished and bewildered Russia and in Italy and Depression-era Germany. The League of Nations proved ineffective in preventing Italy’s aggression against Ethiopia or the remilitarization of the Rhineland by Germany and, worst of all, the German takeover of Czechoslovakia in March 1939. With the outbreak of the Second World War in September 1939, the fate of the League of Nations was sealed, and the first experiment in a law-based international system failed. However, one aspect of the League remained strong, in terms of the need for an international organization to regulate the conduct of international affairs according to a set of laws and principles—albeit in a more robust form and more in tune with the realities of international power.

THE SECOND WORLD WAR AND ITS AFTERMATH The Second World War was even more all embracing, both in its geographical scope and in its use of instruments of warfare. Perhaps more important, it was the first ideological war of the modern era since Napoleon Bonaparte tried to spread the values of the French Revolution by force to the rest of Europe and fought wars of expansion in the name of liberal principles. Another interesting feature of the Second World War was that two opposing ideological camps—communist Soviet Union and liberal West—made common cause against Nazi Germany. However, this alliance was made possible by the miscalculations of Germany which, by invading Russia, led to the nullification of the Nazi-Soviet Pact of August 1939. Had Germany not attacked the Soviet Union, a different kind of alliance might have had different consequences. In short, the wartime Western-Soviet alliance was one of convenience and necessity, rather than the coming together of nations and states which shared similar values. This aspect of the wartime alliance would have significant consequences for the character of the post-war international relations and system. Last, but not least, the Second World War ushered in the nuclear age, when the United States used the atomic bomb against Japan, thus crossing a critical threshold for instruments of war in terms of their destructive power.

INTRODUCTION 5

MORE EMPIRES BREAK UP Another significant consequence of the Second World War was the rise of anti-colonial movements which, over a period of three decades, led to the disintegration of the remaining European empires, resulting in the emergence of several score new countries. The emergence of these new countries added greatly to the complexities of international affairs. Its impact was particularly strong in the workings of the United Nations, which had replaced the League of Nations as the institutional foundation of the post-Second World War international system. A NEW BALANCE OF GLOBAL POWER The Second World War resulted in the weakening of Europe militarily, economically and politically, thus effectively eliminating European powers as major determinants of international politics for many years. The emergence of Communist governments in East European countries and the establishment of Soviet tutelage over them further eroded Europe’s ability to affect the course of international events. It also led to the emergence of the United States and the Soviet Union as the two principal international actors. Their possession of nuclear weapons greatly contributed to this status. Another important outcome of the war was the victory of communist forces, led by Mao Tse-tung, over the nationalists in China and the establishment of a communist system in Mainland China. This new pattern of global power resulted in a so-called bipolar international system because most countries clustered around the system of alliances formed by the two major powers. However, this bipolarity was essentially military-strategic. As the post-war decades progressed, the world became more complex in terms of the distribution of economic and political power. The economic revitalization of Europe, coupled with the process of European integration, the rise of Japan and the Sino-Soviet split—leading to sharp rivalry between China and Russia—led to a greater degree of multipolarity at the economic and political levels. Nevertheless, the US-Soviet strategic balance and the competition between Soviet communism and Western liberalism for the hearts and minds of the rest of the world were the determining influences shaping the character of the international system.

6 STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENTS IN EURASIA AFTER 11 SEPT

THE UNITED NATIONS: A DELICATE BALANCE BETWEEN LAW AND POLITICS Despite the failure of the League of Nations to prevent great power aggression and, worse, another world war, faith in the future of a law-based international system—although this time with a more realistic sense of power—did not completely disappear; hence the creation of the United Nations in 1945 with large-scale responsibilities in security as well as in social and economic matters. The drafters of the United Nations Charter tried to avoid the mistakes that had led to the League’s failure. One was that the League had not paid adequate attention to disparities of power among its members and how this would affect the League’s functioning. The UN Charter was designed to avoid such a mistake by giving the status of permanent members of its Security Council to the world’s five major powers and endowing them with the power to ‘veto’ any resolution which they did not approve. Moreover, resolutions of the UN General Assembly, where the principle of one-country, one-vote prevailed, were non-binding on the member states. These provisions have provided the UN with greater longevity than the League of Nations, but it also has not proved effective as the foundation of a more law-based international system. Therefore, in the era which followed the end of the Second World War, it was the dynamics of great power politics and rivalries which essentially shaped the character of international relations. The UN, at best, became another arena where these rivalries were acted out. Even in the social and economic spheres, the UN’s role was drastically curtailed with the creation of the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (IBRD), otherwise known as the World Bank, where the great powers, especially the US, exert controlling influence. In short, the UN has lasted longer than the League of Nations, but its record in preventing, managing and solving conflicts or protecting the powerless against the powerful has not been radically better than that of the League. Although the UN has been blamed for many of the world’s problems, the fact is that the UN does not have an independent personality beyond that of its members, especially its most powerful members. The UN has always reflected the realities of international power and nearly invariably has applied the logic of power instead of principle. THE BALANCE OF TERROR During the post-Second World War (Cold War) era, it was not international law that provided a modicum of order to international relations, but rather the balance of terror between the two nuclear protagonists. As throughout human history,

INTRODUCTION 7

the weak states and nations suffered most from the dynamics of the Cold War, as they became either battlegrounds for great power competition or were used as proxies to fight great power wars. Yet the balance of terror imposed some restraints on the great powers in terms of their treatment of smaller states. Notably, direct use of force against other states became more difficult and other techniques of indirect intervention— engineering coups d’état or manipulating internal elements—became more widespread. Furthermore, the East-West competition, despite all of its drawbacks, had some advantages for the smaller countries, because both sides wanted to conquer the hearts and minds of their peoples and thus provided them with economic and other assistance. Encouraging development and closing the gap between the rich and poor became important, albeit mostly declaratory, goals of the powerful nations’ diplomacy. THE END OF THE COLD WAR AND THE SOVIET COLLAPSE: WHAT AFTER BIPOLARITY? There is often a confusion between the post-Cold War and post-Soviet eras and the two are frequently used interchangeably. However, they are quite separate and easily distinguishable episodes. The post-Cold War era began when President George H.Bush met Mikhail Gorbachev on 8 December 1989, and ended with the official end of the Soviet Union on 31 December 1991. This period marked the end of the so-called zero-sum competition between the United States and the Soviet Union and heralded the beginning of a willingness on the part of the Soviet Union to co-operate with the US on a number of issues, including existing or impending regional conflicts. The end of the Cold War had other significant consequences, ranging from the fall of the Berlin Wall to the de-Sovietization of Eastern Europe, as communist-dominated governments fell one by one. Further afield, in the Persian Gulf, the end of the Cold War led to the Soviet acquiescence to the projection of massive American—and allied—military power in response to Saddam Hussein’s August 1990 invasion of Kuwait, notwithstanding the existence of a treaty of friendship and security dating from 1972 between Iraq and the USSR. Yet as long as the USSR survived and could potentially be expected to revive economically and militarily, the basic bipolar structure of the world remained intact. Moreover, the very existence of the USSR, despite its more co-operative posture in the late 1980s, acted as a restraint on the actions of the other major power, the United States. All these conditions changed with the Soviet Union’s disintegration.

8 STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENTS IN EURASIA AFTER 11 SEPT

THE SOVIET COLLAPSE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES The Soviet Union was different in many ways from traditional colonial empires. But that it was an empire is beyond doubt. It is for this very reason that the process of reform initiated by Mikhail Gorbachev and intended to strengthen and revitalize the Union led to its demise, partly by unleashing the long-repressed nationalist and autonomist tendencies of its diverse ethnic groups. The Soviet Union’s disintegration resulted in the emergence of fifteen new independent states (including Russia). It also strengthened centrifugal tendencies within the Russian Federation, which in the case of Chechnya led to a bloody civil war. Even before the official end of the Soviet Union, developments there, notably the end of the Cold War, had strengthened centrifugal tendencies and inter-ethnic conflicts, both within many of the USSR’s constituent republics and in other multiethnic countries of southeast Europe, most notably Yugoslavia, as well as in the Caucasus and in the wider Black Sea region. In fact, the process of Yugoslavia’s unraveling began before the Soviet Union’s disintegration, and civil wars broke out in Azerbaijan and Georgia as early as 1988. The Soviet break-up also altered the pattern of regional alliances and enmities in the immediate and more distant neighborhood of the Soviet Union, including the Black Sea region. SYSTEMIC TRANSFORMATION The Soviet Union’s disintegration, but even more important the rapid economic and military meltdown of Russia—the legal successor state to the Soviet Union —dramatically altered the nature of international relations and the character and dynamics of the international and regional systems. At the international level, the Soviet Union’s demise led to the emergence of the United States as the preeminent global power, or as has often been said, the ‘sole superpower’. The characterization of the United States as the ‘indispensable power’ by the former US Secretary of State, Madeleine Albright, fully illustrates America’s own sense of its unique power and position and its determination to shape the world according to its values and interests, without feeling unduly constrained by the concerns of its allies or the reactions of its enemies. This US preeminence led to the coining of the term ‘unipolar world’ as a way of explaining the character of the new international system within which a single power exercised near-hegemonic influence over much of the world. During the first decade of the post-Soviet era, largely because of the uncertainty over Russia’s future, most notably the risk of the emergence of a nationalist and

INTRODUCTION 9

anti-Western government in Moscow, plus continued uncertainties about the fate of the new democracies of the former Warsaw Pact members, the United States continued to nurture its old alliances, especially NATO, despite occasionally significant strains in US-European ties. US-Russian relations also followed an uneven course, punctuated by periods of serious discord over issues ranging from Russia’s behavior in Chechnya to its opposition to NATO expansion, the handling of Yugoslav crisis, and Russia’s relations with so-called rogue states such as Iran and Iraq. US-European relations also suffered because of the same factors. By the beginning of the twenty-first century, with the failure of attempts by Russia, China and even France, to counter US predominance and to create a so-called multipolar world, the centrality of US power in shaping international affairs was recognized, even if resented. However, beyond certain regions, such as the Middle East and parts of the former Soviet Union, the United States essentially continued to work within the framework of existing regional (NATO) and international (UN) security systems. In particular, the United States remained hesitant in the unilateral use of force as an instrument of policy, especially if there were serious opposition to it, either within the Western alliance or the United Nations. 11 SEPTEMBER AND ITS AFTERMATH: ANOTHER SYSTEMIC EARTHQUAKE? What occurred on 11 September 2001 was not a war. But in its long-term impact on the nature of international relations and the future character of the international system, it may prove to have had similar fundamental consequences as the major wars of the twentieth century. Although the terrorist attacks of 11 September did not amount to conventional aggression, nevertheless, both in their magnitude and their impact on the collective psychology of the American people, they went far beyond any ordinary terrorist attacks witnessed before. The instruments used by the terrorists to carry out their heinous acts—American commercial passenger planes—went beyond the normal paraphernalia of terrorism. At the same time, the targets attacked and the damage inflicted was larger than any other terrorist had dared to do before. And the attacks led to large casualties. More Americans died during the 11 September attacks than during the Persian Gulf War of 1991 (150 during the war and 3,000 in the terrorist attacks). Therefore, it is quite natural and understandable that America saw these attacks as a declaration of war—albeit unconventional. It was natural that 11 September should shatter America’s sense of invulnerability, thus leading to a refocusing of its domestic and foreign policy priorities to providing for homeland security and fighting international terrorism. Given America’s tremendous

10 STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENTS IN EURASIA AFTER 11 SEPT

weight within the international system, such a refocusing of its priorities could not but affect the dynamics of international relations. THE ANTI-TALIBAN WAR AND THE COALITION AGAINST INTERNATIONAL TERRORISM The first important consequence of 11 September was the launching of attacks against the Taliban regime in Afghanistan—which harboured Osama bin Laden and his terror network—primarily by the United States but widely supported by the international community. Indeed, the immediate consequences of 11 September were (1) closing of ranks within the Transatlantic Alliance (NATO)—e.g., without prompting by the United States, NATO invoked Article 5 of the Washington Treaty in support of the US, and (2) a sharp improvement in Russian-American relations, with wide-ranging regional ramifications. Most important among the regional consequences of this rapprochement was the expansion of the US military presence in Central Asia and the Caucasus, areas traditionally viewed by Russia as its special sphere of influence. The events of 11 September also led to improvements in Sino-American ties and the strengthening of the burgeoning Indo-American strategic alliance. These shifts changed the political context of many strategically important regions, including the Black Sea region and the Caspian basin, and cast many of the old issues such as the pipeline routes in a new light. A potential danger of post-11 September events was that the war on international terrorism could be misinterpreted, at least by some segments of the Muslim world, as being an acting-out of the theory of the clash of civilizations. Whether this perception is correct, the fact is that in the post-11 September world religion has become a more important variable in politics than it had been since the creation of the modern nation-state. THE CHANGING US STRATEGIC VISION. THE AXIS OF EVIL AND WAR AGAINST IRAQ The events of 11 September, the anti-Taliban war, and in general their after-shocks also resulted in a fundamental shift in US strategic and foreign policy doctrines, from one based essentially—albeit not consistently—on the principles of containment and acting principally through multilateral means to one of pre-emption and even prevention of actual or potential threats, through more pro-active and change-oriented policies carried out, if necessary, unilaterally and by the use of military power. Furthermore, the new US vision included generating fundamental changes in the political systems and governing regimes of countries,

INTRODUCTION 11

mostly located in the Middle East and South Asia, with overwhelmingly Muslim populations. This change in US strategic thinking became clear during President George W. Bush’s State of the Union address to the US Congress on 29 January 2002, when he identified Iraq, Iran and North Korea as an ‘Axis of Evil’ ‘arming to threaten the peace of the world’. And he pledged that ‘the United States of America will not permit the world’s most dangerous regimes to threaten us with the world’s most destructive weapons’. The first test case of the new strategy was Iraq. The question of how to deal with Iraq’s challenge, notably its stock of biological and chemical weapons and its determination to develop nuclear weapons, plus the Iraqi regime’s purported links with terrorist groups, caused major rifts between the United States and some of its major European allies, notably Germany and France, as well as putting into question the future of the newly developing US-Russian strategic partnership. Meanwhile, the Iraq issue brought Russia closer to Germany and France. Furthermore, the Iraq question split Europe itself into two opposing camps, one supporting the US position and the other opposing it. Within the Black Sea region, Turkey’s refusal to allow US troops to use its territory to launch attacks on northern Iraq strained a close and long-standing alliance, with unforeseen consequences for the region. The Iraq issue also caused tremendous strains within the UN, thus clouding its prospects as a viable international institution. In short, although the events of 11 September did not amount to traditional war, in their long-term systemic consequences they may prove to be as far reaching as those of other major wars of the past century, in large part because they set the stage for the US decision to use force to deal with the threat posed by Saddam Hussein. At this stage, it is difficult to evaluate the nature and extent of the systemic consequences caused indirectly by the events of 11 September because it is as yet impossible to assess the long-run impact of the Iraq war. What is clear is that they have already caused significant changes in the configuration of regional and international alliances and relationships. THE PRESENT WORK Throughout the present volume it is acknowledged that the 11 September attacks and the developments that ensued have affected the way in which international relations are evaluated. In addition, the developments have upgraded the erstwhile textbook concept of asymmetric threats, including large-scale international terrorist attacks, into genuine dangers threatening international security. Accordingly, several questions have been raised concerning the wisdom of the conventional mindset over issues of war and peace, of existing alliances

12 STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENTS IN EURASIA AFTER 11 SEPT

and partnerships, even of the character of the international system. Although it might be rather premature to suggest that these developments have fundamentally changed the character of the international system, this volume touches upon a number of issues that shed light on patterns of change and continuity in the post-11 September evolution of international relations in Eurasia. Theodore Couloumbis begins by explaining how the current international system has suffered from a destabilizing vacuum stemming from the rapid disintegration of Cold War era bipolarity and warns that this vacuum should not be allowed to degenerate into global chaos and anarchy following the events of and after 11 September. The author advocates that a tolerable and reasonably predictable global order could be better understood in the context of a global great power consensus stemming from the legitimizing mechanisms such those of the UN, NATO, the Group of Seven and its modalities (to include, at times, Russia and China), as well as the Quartet (US, Russia, UN and the EU). Alternatively, an enhanced and adequately institutionalized Group of Nine could be developed as a complement to the UN Security Council through which North-South problems could be more effectively addressed; both structures can function as global legitimizing agencies in the application of strategies of conflict prevention, conflict management and, if agreed upon, preemptive intervention. For Couloumbis, the outer circle of global order can be supplemented by the inner circle of the Euro-Atlantic institutions of which Washington and Brussels constitute the major poles. The logic stemming from this analysis is that the world has become too dangerous and unpredictable for the international community to remain passive in regard to co-operational schemes and legitimizing structures which could make it easier for the United States to act in concert with others in exerting its influence for peace at the global level. By shifting the focus of this volume to more regional questions, Robert Hunter examines the change in Russian policy toward the United States and NATO as a result of the events of 11 September. Drawing from his experience as a former US ambassador to NATO, Hunter advocates that in the immediate aftermath of the 11 September events, Russia demonstrated its willingness to co-operate and co-ordinate its actions with those of the West in the fight against terrorism. However, it remains to be seen whether Russia’s intention to engage with Western powers and institutions involves a strategic priority or simply takes advantage of the circumstances in order to pursue Moscow’s immediate interests in the region. Hunter analyses Russia’s relations with NATO during the last decade in order to show that there was a gradual yet slow improvement in NATO-Russia relations in the post-Cold war era which accelerated after 11 September. Russia reportedly provided intelligence support to the United States and, in general, made it clear that it would not in any way exploit America’s difficulties; that neither terrorists nor their supporters could look to Moscow for

INTRODUCTION 13

anything but condemnation; that it would be supportive rather than obstructive of US military efforts in Afghanistan; and that Russia would even in the following months see an emerging partnership with the United States in the struggles against ‘international terrorism’. The establishment of the NATO-Russia Council in May 2002 seemed to have crystallized the Russian shift towards the West while offering a new pattern of relations that may prove extremely useful to America’s interests in the Greater Middle East region. Russia’s improved relationship with the West also partly explains the shift in relations between Russia and Turkey. This is the issue dealt with in detail by Fiona Hill. She argues that the dynamic in the foreign policies of the two states changed during the 1990s, bringing the two countries into more compatible lines of co-operation than previously observed. Both countries find themselves in complex negotiations with the European Union, despite the fact that Russia does not have a customs union agreement with the EU and has not been declared a candidate country for EU accession, as Turkey has. Both are compelled to transform basic elements of their foreign and domestic policies in order to fulfill EU requirements that underpin the relations of both countries with Brussels. Irrespective of whether Russia and Turkey will acquiesce to the EU instructions and directives, both seem to have developed compatible regional interests. According to Hill, issues such as energy supplies (oil and gas) have also increased the level of co-operation between the countries, yet some friction remains regarding transportation routes and the question of Armenia. However, Turkey presents a more blurred picture as regards its future EU membership as well as its expediency in domestic reform, notwithstanding its pro-European yet inexperienced new government that has pledged substantial domestic changes in line with the EU membership criteria. Nevertheless, Hill adopts a more optimistic approach when she argues that the relations between the two countries will continue improving since this is also encouraged by the shifts in regional security priorities of both Russia and Turkey after 11 September. Relations between Russia and the West are discussed in detail by Celeste Wallander. She believes that maintaining the improvement in US-Russia relations depends on two conditions. The first condition is whether the United States succeeds in eradicating terrorist networks in Afghanistan, Central Asia and the Caucasus. According to Wallander, if the US presence and operations in the region do not bring stability and security while fueling further extremism and terrorist attacks, it might be difficult for Putin’s Moscow to manage and silence domestic discontent created by America’s presence in Central Asia. The second condition upon which a positive relationship will be sustained regards the definition of threats in the region and the subsequent nature of the campaigns to address them. For example, the US interpretation of Iran’s role in global terrorism creates problems in US-Russia relations, the general positive climate

14 STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENTS IN EURASIA AFTER 11 SEPT

notwithstanding. The two countries could easily find themselves disagreeing about the extent and methods of fighting terrorism in the region, if conditions deteriorate in Uzbekistan or Georgia and especially in relation to cross-border conflict in the Russian Federation. Moreover, if instability spreads to Pakistan and affects India, then Moscow may consider its good relationship with the latter at risk and thus become impatient with Washington’s strategies. By presenting the economic priorities and interests of Moscow and Washington in the region, Wallander suggests that the promotion of multilateral structures of regional co-operation in the Caucasus and Central Asia might become an effective instrument for the economic development and integration of all states of the region. Wallander proposes the Eurasian Silk Road model that focuses on regional co-operation as a means for integration, development and globalization, thus providing multidimensional sources of stability and security as well as strengthening the US-Russia relationship. Following on the issue of energy sources in the Caucasus and Central Asia, Andreas Andrianopoulos argues that Caspian oil has been upgraded into an issue of significant geo-strategic proportions. The levels of drilling, exploitation and transportation have ceased to be dealt with as solely commercial issues for regional countries and other interested groups. Instead, the entire debate on oil reserves and pipeline routes has been guided by competing national strategies that tend to overlook market needs and economic indicators. From an institutional point of view, Ioannis Stribis explains the changes that have taken place in the context of the Black Sea Economic Co-operation (BSEC) as an organization that used to deal with security only indirectly and solely as a result of concrete economic co-operation. According to Stribis, major changes took place at the end of the 1990s and especially after 11 September in BSEC regarding the upgrading of security into a concept of major regional concern that is treated almost with priority in most recent legal documents. Stribis explains the evolution of this process as well as the co-operational schemes provided by the legal documents of the BSEC touching upon issues such as the fight against international terrorism and organized crime. According to Stribis, the declared commitment of the BSEC member states against terrorism, networks of organized crime and other aspects of criminal action threatening regional security has been unprecedented and needs to be fully materialized. This, in turn, points to the pragmatism with which the BSEC member states conceive contemporary challenges as well as their willingness to co-operate in this direction. A similar yet more critical approach is presented by Spyros Economides in his article dealing with perceptions of security in the Balkans after 11 September. He stresses that in the Balkans there have been elements of both change and continuity. The dramatic changes that have taken place in the post-11 September era had a direct impact primarily on the conception of national security of the

INTRODUCTION 15

United States which, because of its predominance in the international system, has shaken its foundations. Economides uses the paradigm of ‘asymmetrical threats’ in order to explain the nature of more recent security threats in southeast Europe in the post-11 September period. He argues that irrespective of the evolution of types and targets of threats, national and by extension international security still dominates the agenda. According to Economides, the examples of international intervention in the former Yugoslavia show that there are six levels of security that form a hierarchy. This hierarchy functions from the top down, rather than the bottom up. The top level is that of international security, followed by continental, regional, national, group and individual security. Economides argues that the key level in this hierarchy is national security. If the West does not see a threat to its national security interests, then it will act in a less decisive and forceful manner, especially with regard to issues of individual and group security. When national security, and the interests of the western world, are perceived to be under threat this can trigger a response that moves up in the hierarchy and transforms the threat into one of grave international significance demanding forceful intervention. Although the argument primarily derives from the realities of western intervention in southeast Europe, it is also a particularly useful guide in understanding contemporary western military responses against various types of threats that have emerged in the post-11 September era. All in all, the contributions point to significant changes as well as continuities in international relations in the post-11 September era. The volume clearly demonstrates the important transformations which are taking place in the nature of the international system and the character of inter-state relations, although the final contours of the new system are still unclear.

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Toward a Global Geopolitical and Geoeconomic Concert of Powers? THEODORE A.COULOUMBIS

THE OUTER CIRCLE: TOWARD A GLOBAL CONCERT OF POWERS With the 2003 war against Saddam Hussein behind us, analysts and commentators are still seeking to assess the impact of the 11 September 2001 tragedy on global politics. They can be divided, roughly, into pessimists and optimists. The pessimists assume that we are moving towards a period of increasing disorder, disorientation, fluidity, ethnic separatism, fanatic terrorism and escalating economic protectionism. As evidence they list scores of hybrid wars1 that have been plaguing much of the troubled South of our planet, with the western Balkans, the Middle East, Central Asia and sub-Saharan Africa at the apex of global conflict (see for example Rumsfeld 2001, 2002; Kissinger 2001; Klare 2001; Mearsheimer 1994/1995). The optimists, on the contrary, argue that there is still a chance for humankind to develop a new ‘world order’ based on premises of respect for the territorial integrity of states, sustainable economic development, enhancement and consolidation of democratic institutions, protection of human rights, and institutionalization of structures and processes for the peaceful settlement of international and intrastate disputes.2 The thesis of the present essay is that in a world where some states (potentially non-state actors as well) possess awesome military capabilities, especially weapons of mass destruction, there is no rational substitute for a system of global order founded on concerted decision making of major centres of military and economic power. Such as system —let us call it a global concert of powers—can provide adequate institutional mechanisms for the peaceful and tolerably just settlement of disputes. The destabilizing vacuum that has been created by the rapid disintegration of Cold War bipolarity must not be allowed to drift into global anarchy and chaos. There was, despite its dangers, an inherent stability to a bipolar system, which had been premised on the mutually deterring balance of nuclear terror.

18 STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENTS IN EURASIA AFTER 11 SEPT

The new architecture of global security, even after the war in Iraq, should be based on an implicit, if not explicit, consensus on fundamental premises shared by the world’s major and multidimensional centres of power. It goes without saying, however, that a great-power consensus on the rules of the international game will not be able to survive without acceptance by a considerable number of small and intermediate states. If what appears to be a global great-power consensus, as reflected in the relatively veto-free decisions taken at the UN Security Council in the last twelve years,3 multilateral legitimizing mechanisms such as NATO, the Group of Seven (G7), the Quartet, etc. will continue providing the basis for a reasonably predictable and tolerable global order.4 In the rapidly integrating global economy, the impact of major centres of economic power (the G7) will continue to be reflected mainly through institutions such as the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Trade Organization (WTO). The careful widening of this system to include Russia (G8) and even China (G9) will reflect, if done prudently and realistically, the structural imperatives of globalization. Further, the activities of multinational corporations and multinational banks will continue to strengthen patterns of economic interdependence that will certainly reduce the likelihood of conflict among entities that could be likened to economic Siamese twins. Following the European Union’s (EU) prototype, regional integration trends could also multiply in number and importance with evolving organizations such as the North American Free Trade Agreement, the Association of South-East Asian Nations, the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries, the Gulf Cooperation Council and the Black Sea Economic Cooperation among others. In the narrow security/political field, NATO should remain the cornerstone of the new Euro-Atlantic security order. However, this great post-war regional security organization will have to continue to adapt to post-Cold War and post-11 September circumstances. With the dissolution of the Soviet bloc and the rise of asymmetric threats, NATO’s central function will be to maintain and manage the historic partnership between North America and Europe (on this topic see Papacosma and Laurent 1999; Coker 2002). The Atlantic Alliance can and should shift progressively to the status of a grand organizational experiment whose main function will be to prevent the drifting apart of its two strong pillars and to preserve conditions of Euro-American interdependence based on premises of equality and partnership, thus forming a stable core around which global security can be structured for generations to come.5 Following the logic of institutional complementarily (concentric, overlapping, adjacent), NATO, as a security-producing structure, is likely to be enhanced by the projected acceleration of EU integration. This union of 25 European states will invariably emerge as a pluralist yet quasi-homogeneous entity not only in the

TOWARD A GLOBAL CONCERT OF POWERS? 19

economic but also in the political and security dimensions.6 The EU, following its absorption of the Western European Union (WEU), is slowly developing credible instruments for the formulation of common security and defence policies. The birth of the euro as the common currency of twelve member states is likely also to generate a multiplier effect in the unification process. It must be clearly understood, however, that a solitary global island of stability —a two-pillared Euro-Atlantic community—surrounded by a sea of disorder will be doomed to a sorry fate, sliding ultimately to global confrontation between the haves and the have-nots of the world. Today, therefore, there is a crucial need for the establishment of complementary and overlapping security structures in areas of actual or potential conflict such as the western Balkans, the former Soviet Union, East and Southeast Asia, the Middle East and the Mediterranean, Africa and Central and Latin America. The institutional vacuum that has been created by the dissolution of East European international organizations, such as the Warsaw Pact and the Council for Mutual Economic Assistance, is being filled, at least partially, by parallel sets of partnership, stability and association agreements between the countries of central, eastern and southeast Europe and NATO and the EU respectively. The EU and NATO enlargement processes will continue to provide a major integrative momentum. However, with democratization proceeding at varying rates in the erstwhile Socialist camp, there are still a number of problems (chief among them, the challenge of ethnic-autonomist movements) that could easily cross the threshold of armed conflict (see Boniface 1998; Veremis 2002a). The Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) appears also to be slated for a role beyond democratic standard setting and confidence building and will include conflict prevention, peacekeeping and peacemaking. The Gulf War in 1991 and Saddam Hussein’s subsequent and continuing intransigence have sharpened the sensitivities of global, Middle Eastern and Mediterranean powers regarding the need to develop ad hoc as well as long-lived institutional mechanisms for the settlement of unresolved conflicts such as the Arab-Israeli and the Palestinian-Israeli disputes, and long-simmering crises involving states threatened by partitionist movements throughout the world. The jury is still out (at the time of writing) on post-conflict developments in Iraq. Saddam’s fate, however, is sealed, and international institutions are being invited to fill a part of the vacuum. Institutional patterns of the North, especially the OSCE, hopefully can be modified for application to regional settings such as the Mediterranean, the Middle East, South Asia, East Asia, Africa and Central and South America. However, the disappointing record of conflict management during the wars of Yugoslav succession, has been a harsh reminder of the unpreparedness of global and regional institutions to prevent or control complicated intrastate and interethnic conflicts.7

20 STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENTS IN EURASIA AFTER 11 SEPT

Finally, ascending the institutional ladder, we must not lose sight of the great potential for peacekeeping and peace enforcement still available to the United Nations through the reinforced role of the Security Council and the Secretariat. Here, despite recent setbacks, we must point out the remarkable cohesiveness and staying power demonstrated by a coalition of diverse powers operating under the legitimizing umbrella of the United Nations Security Council, which was brought to bear in order to reverse a clear-cut case of aggression-occupation-annexation perpetrated in 1990 by Saddam Hussein’s Iraq. I predict, as well as wish, that the UN will be invited relatively soon to assume an important role in the political administration of post-Saddam Iraq. At this point, however, we should hasten to point to the relatively antiquated construct of the UN Security Council, especially its veto-holding permanent members. The main criticism of the Security Council’s structure, 58 years after the end of the Second World War, is that its permanent members comprise only the victors of that catastrophic war. Clearly, there are two strategies available to address this need to reflect contemporary political and economic realities in the United Nations: The first strategy involves adding Japan and Germany to the group of permanent members. But, as we know, this highly needed step opens the door to additional applicants for permanent membership such as India, Brazil, Canada, and/or the EU (in place of Britain and France). The second strategy involves the parallel strengthening—de facto—of a global ‘economic security council’ that has adopted the modest title of the Group of Seven (G7), which has been recently functioning also as a Group of Eight (G8) with the inclusion of Russia. If, adequately institutionalized, the G8 (in fact, the G9, if one chooses to invite economically advancing China) can develop itself as a complement—not a competing alternative—to the UN Security Council. Its makeup, interestingly, escapes the rusty logic of ‘winners’ and ‘losers’ of the Second World War, for it brings together both sides. The United States, Canada, Britain, France, Russia and China represent the erstwhile winners; Germany, Italy and Japan the erstwhile losers. The G7/8/9, will be in a position to address the problems of North-South relations well into the twenty-first century and can act as a global legitimizing agency for strategies of conflict prevention (trade, aid and investment packages), as well as conflict management (peacekeeping and peacemaking, elections and human rights monitoring, humanitarian assistance and, when agreed upon, pre-emptive intervention). If we accept the problematic outlined so far, we should not be surprised that the conflicts of the twenty-first century will continue surfacing in the global South. However, unless timely corrective measures are taken, these problems will spill over into the vulnerable and porous North, especially in the sensitive sectors of refugee movements, illegal migration, drug and women trafficking and

TOWARD A GLOBAL CONCERT OF POWERS? 21

international terrorism. It would make sense for the major powers of the stable pole of the planet (the United States, the EU, Japan and—despite their difficulties —Russia and China) to address in concert the challenges of the South with collectively authorized preventive measures, including peacekeeping, peacemaking, humanitarian and development assistance (Carnegie Commission 1997). THE INNER CIRCLE: THE STATE OF RELATIONS IN EUROATLANTICA Are trans-Atlantic relations currently at their lowest point? My own answer is no. On the political side, relations have had their peaks and valleys over the past 50 years. One should remember Suez in 1956, Vietnam 1965–1975, and Charles De Gaulle’s multi-azimuth options, including France’s withdrawal from the military structures of NATO. On the economic side, butter, bananas, biotechnology, chickens, steel, patents and culture have often topped official and public opinion agendas. We could best describe today’s state of affairs as one of matching misperceptions leading to what meteorologists would call ‘inclement weather’: On the European side, we frequently hear cries of disapproval for what is dubbed as the Cheney, Rumsfeld, Rice, Wolfowitz and Perle, ‘axis of unilateralism’. Furthermore, the Bush administration’s negative policies on the Kyoto Protocol, the International Criminal Court, and the creation of ‘regime changes’ through pre-emption, are rubbing against the European grain. On the US side, one hears voices of exasperation with what is perceived as a soft and accomodationist Europe. Europeans have been viewed condescendingly as speaking with 15 discordant voices,8 not spending enough on defense (only 1.5 of GDP on average), not modernizing, not upgrading military capabilities and not respecting intellectual rights, among other complaints. We may yet weather this latest storm. After all, governments and administrations on both sides of the Atlantic come and go. The glue, however, that sustains the unity of EuroAtlantica, historical memories of co-operation in critical times and the sharing of fundamental values, remains. It is worth mentioning in this connection some of the findings of a German Marshall Fund of the United States survey which was recently released (CCFR/GMFUS 2002). The survey found a remarkable convergence of public opinion in the United States and Europe with respect to Euro-Atlantic issues. For example, 65 per cent in the United States and 60 per cent in Europe believed that the United States should only invade Iraq with UN approval and with allied support. Only 20 per cent in the United States and 10 per cent in Europe supported the United States ‘going it alone’ in Iraq. That was a remarkable finding indeed. There was a clear majority

22 STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENTS IN EURASIA AFTER 11 SEPT

of Americans who differed with the Bush Administration and favoured the ratification of the Kyoto Accord as well as America joining the International Criminal Court. Assuming that such findings continue to reflect public opinion on both sides of the Ocean, one could argue that the greatest threat to the stability of the planet in the twenty-first century could arise by the break-up of the Euro-Atlantic partnership (Kupchan 2002). It would be disastrous indeed to witness multi-azimuth, as well as redundant, defence planning developing on both sides of the Atlantic. However, it would be a wrong to assume that the Europeans, by competing with American military power, could keep the Americans at bay, thus re-introducing a global balance of power system. Even if attempted, an arms race with the United States would prove costly and unwinnable as well as politically unacceptable. Europe, simply, could not afford such a drastic increase in defence expenditure. In conceiving Europe’s future schematically, we could return to Jacques Delors’s concept of ‘concentric circles’. However, in the case of the Euro-Atlantic community, we would have to employ two hard cores, in Washington and Brussels respectively. NATO, the OSCE, the Council of Europe, and the ‘alphabet soup’ of proliferating international organizations will provide successive concentric circles around both cores. The outermost circle would involve the United Nations and its specialized agencies, including the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Trade Organization (WTO). Also, as discussed in the previous section, there is a dire need for a universal legitimizing mechanism forming around the UN Security Council and the G7 to cover the economic dimension, the G8 to take in the Russians, and the G9 to engage the Chinese. We should especially emphasize the vital role of economic organizations: the World Bank, IMF, WTO and other specialized agencies supporting the kind of institutional edifice that will continue setting the basic rules of the international game. This may not prove to the satisfaction of neo-conservatives in the United States, but will keep America better off in the long run. A global concert of powers system will provide the United States with needed ‘exit strategies’ should America become involved in future ‘Vietnams’. With the willingness to act in concert, and with the capacity to react to a cautious and conservative public opinion at home, the United States will be better able to exert its influence through multilateralism. The frustrating sequence of events in post-Saddam Iraq should make it adequately clear for policy formulators in Washington that unilateralism, once prolonged, leads to isolationism. The twenty-first century will be a century of North-South, as opposed to East-West, strategic relationships. There are two ways of reacting to the problems of the South that spill over to the North. The first way, and it ought to be tried collectively, is fire-fighting. Here America’s ‘hard power’ has a clear-cut

TOWARD A GLOBAL CONCERT OF POWERS? 23

comparative advantage. The second way is fire prevention. Here the European Union enjoys a comparative advantage. By emphasizing ‘soft power’, and helping to cut the distances that separate the world’s rich from the world’s poor, Europe will address issues such as poverty, despair and the growing income and quality of life gap. One often encounters a naive view asserting that Bin Laden and all these terrorists that attacked the Twin Towers and the Pentagon were rich and educated people. Therefore, the argument continues, it is utter nonsense to talk about a proletarian, revolutionary response to inequity in the world. One, however, should consider that revolutionary elites have been over the centuries educated and well-to-do persons with a special guilt complex about being rich and comfortable. The views in this essay differ from those of two fine scholars, Thanos Veremis (2002a,b) and Charles Kupchan (1998, 2002). The former considers the Europe of today as the equivalent of ancient Greece facing a militarily powerful Rome (the United States). The latter equates Europe with the Byzantine Empire challenging a tiring and fractious Western Roman Empire (the United States). Both believe that military imbalance can lead to considerable turbulence in Euro-Atlantic relations. I find Andrew Moravcsik’s analysis more convincing. In an article published in Newsweek (Moravcsik 2002), he presented Europe as ‘a quiet super power’. It is worth mentioning some of his supportive evidence. He reminded his readers that US defence expenditures exceed those of Russia, China, Britain, France, Germany, Japan and India combined. So America, he concluded, is the only superpower with a global reach. For research and development purposes alone America has spent more than the entire UK defence spending package. America, also, continues to have unique mobility and intelligence capabilities and unmatched technological prowess. On the other hand, Moravcsik argued, European soft (mainly economic) power could be translated into tangible influence. But in order to translate economic power into influence Europe has to decide on a set of common objectives. There are, according to Moravcsik, plenty of remaining advantages that Europe enjoys. He argued, for example, that Serbia and Montenegro have not parted ways thanks to the self-restraining impact of eventual accession to the European Union. Javier Solana would visit the region and say, ‘Thou shalt not divorce’. So both entities have so far remained politically uncomfortable bedfellows. Other advantages of soft power include total European development aid, which is four times greater than that of the United States. We must not forget, also, that Europe has spent $3.5 billion for reconstruction of the Palestinian Authority region, which Likud and Ariel Sharon, on one side, and Palestinian suicide bombers, on the other, have demolished. If Europe, in the future were to co-ordinate its resources with those of the United States and with the rest of the Quartet, the

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peace process between Israelis and Palestinians may once more be revived. Finally, Moravcsik has argued that the EU members have sent over ten times as many men and women for peacekeeping and peace-making duty in the past decade, including 50 per cent of the total in Kosovo and 84 per cent in Afghanistan. One important remaining question is what to do with ‘Berlin plus’.9 The issue of EU-NATO defence interface is probably a storm in a teacup. If the Euro-Atlantic community had possessed an effective mechanism for peaceful settlement of disputes, we would not have been arguing about including/ excluding certain areas within/from the purview of the ‘European Army’. There is, also, the related issue of defence interoperability and co-ordination. There is no problem with a NATO rapid response force next to an EU rapid reaction force. The former would logically have a global mission of Petersberg (peace keeping/making) tasks and the latter could best be seen as a collective security, peacekeeping and enforcement mechanism for the EU and its immediate vicinity. SOME PARTING WORDS A few thoughts might be in order in connection with five important questions. The first question relates to the future role of NATO. A central, in fact vital, requirement is institutionalized consultation between the two sides of the Atlantic. Consultation, however, will require some time and added patience on both sides of the Atlantic. The second question relates to NATO’s collective defence function. Nowadays, there is not much activity in this respect. The Soviet bloc is no more, NATO is enlarging to include a total of 26 members, and Russia is blending its interests and objectives with those of its Euro-Atlantic partners. However, there remains a vital collective security aspect to NATO with emphasis on ‘Petersberg plus’ tasks envisioned for application out of area, perhaps globally. The third question deals with the debate on the merits and demerits of soft versus hard power. Lord Ismay, the first secretary general of the Atlantic Alliance, used to argue that NATO was first established ‘to keep the Americans in, the Russians out, the Germans down’. In our time, the consensus is to keep everybody ‘in’. Mutual engagement from San Francisco to Vladivostok is expected to deter the kind of strategic thinking in Washington which would consider as a paramount American objective the neutralization of a putative hegemonic power controlling Eurasia. This was the kind of logic that led the United States to intervene in the First and Second World Wars. Both interventions were designed to support the side that was losing, thus preventing Eurasian hegemony by one single centre of power. The same logic, preventing Soviet domination of Eurasia, applies to the Cold War as well. And, in current American strategic thinking, an EU that is enlarging all the way to Vladivostok, and becoming independent and competitive

TOWARD A GLOBAL CONCERT OF POWERS? 25

in terms of defence capability, would send a message that spells ‘friction, friction, friction’. The fourth question is whether Europe should compete with the US in military capabilities. The prudent answer is no. Should Europe complement the US? The wise answer is yes. We, in Europe, should remember our not so distant past: colonialism, irredentism, Balkan wars, world wars, the Cold War and the recent wars of Yugoslav succession. A good concept for us to keep firmly in mind is Karl Deutsch’s ‘security community’. States within security communities do not fortify their borders. That is what we, as Greeks, hope to accomplish with our neighbour Turkey; to defortify safely our border regions. This notion may appear overoptimistic at this time, but by developing institutions for peaceful settlement of disputes within the Euro-Atlantic nexus, and by including the new countries that are joining the family through enlargement, what appears as wishful thinking today may turn into reality tomorrow. Last question: what kind of Europe? I read, many years ago, a fine book about decision making and the ‘British way’, that of ‘disjointed incrementalism’ (Braybrooke and Lindblom 1963). Its philosophy is not to try to get directly to the grand design, but to continue moving; to repair little cracks here, and pot holes there; to respond to finite problems. Some people call it pragmatism. That is perhaps the way to go. If we postpone incremental action, until we all agree on the grand design, we may just be condemning ourselves to paralysis. NOTES 1. This term denotes a combination of elements of civil conflict with heavy international involvement. 2. For initial assessments echoing George Bush senior’s early optimistic visions, see Fukuyama 1992. See also Kupchan 1995, 1998; Ikenberry 2001, 2002. 3. The French and Russian ‘pocket vetoes’, in connection with the Iraq operation, can be considered a seasonal rather than permanent alienation among the five permanent members of the UN Security Council. 4. The early phases of the Kosovo-Yugoslav bombardment in the spring of 1999 came close to destroying the implicit consensus of the early and mid-1990s. The eventual settlement, however, involving the active participation of Russia, the EU and the UN in the negotiation and implementation phases, appears to have returned the pendulum to a consensual position. The same could be said in the see-saw between unilateralism and multilateralism accompanying the international community’s campaign to disarm Iraq’s nuclear, biological and chemical weapons of mass destruction. 5. The Euro-Atlantic partnership will complement (rather than hinder) much needed enhancement in the relations of Europe and the United States with major global actors in Asia, such as Japan, China and India.

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6. Following the current phases of enlargement the EU will comprise—assuming ratification processes proceed smoothly—25 member states and NATO 26. 7. The jury is also still out on the final assessment of NATO’s intervention in Kosovo. I have likened the experience to a ‘stress test’ or a ‘CAT scan’ on the state of health of Europe’s security architecture. For a very sharp critique of the Clinton-Albright handling of the Kosovo question, see Mandelbaum 1999; see also Veremis 2002a. 8. Richard Holbrooke, during the Imia/Kardak crisis early in 1996, was talking about having to make 15 different phone calls across the ocean and awakening everybody. He did not, of course, make reference to the fact that Europe is five, six or seven hours ahead of Washington. 9. This phrase refers to the process of working out acceptable arrangements for EU defence activity (ESDP) whenever it will require the use of NATO assets.

REFERENCES Boniface, Pascal (1998): ‘The Proliferation of States’, The Washington Quarterly, 21/3, pp. 111–27. Braybrooke, David and Charles E.Lindblom (1963): A Strategy of Decision: Policy Evaluation as a Social Process, New York: Free Press of Glencoe. Carnegie Commission (1997): Final Report, New York: Carnegie Commission on Preventing Deadly Conflicts. CCFR/GMFUS (2002): Worldviews 2002, Chicago Council on Foreign Relations and German Marshall Fund of the United States, . Coker, Christopher (2002): Globalisation and Insecurity in the Twenty-First Century: NATO and the Management of Risk, Adelphi Paper 345, London: The International Institute for Strategic Studies. Fukuyama, Francis (1992): The End of History and the Last Man, New York: Free Press. Ikenberry, G.John (2001): After Victory: Institutions, Strategic Restraint, and the Rebuilding of Order after Major Wars, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Ikenberry, G.John (2002):‘America’s Imperial Ambitio’, Foreign Affairs, 81/5, pp. 44–60. Kissinger, Henry A. (2001): Does America Need a Foreign Policy? Toward a Diplomacy for the Twentieth-first Century, New York: Simon and Schuster. Klare, Michael T. (2001): ‘The New Geography of Conflict’, Foreign Affairs, 80/3, pp. 49–61. Kupchan, Charles A. (1998): ‘After Pax Americana: Benign Power, Regional Integration, and the Sources of a Stable Multipolarity’, International Security, 23/2, pp. 40–79. Kupchan, Charles A. (2002): ‘The End of the West’, Atlantic Monthly, 290/4, pp. 42–4. Kupchan, Charles A. and Clifford A.Kupchan (1995): ‘The Promise of Collective Security’, International Security, 20/1, pp. 52–61. Mandelbaum, Michael (1999): ‘A Perfect Failure: NATO’s War Against Yugoslavia’, Foreign Affairs, 78/5, pp. 2–8. Mearsheimer, John J. (1994/1995): ‘The False Promise of International Institutions’, International Security, 19/3, pp. 5–49.

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Moravcsik, Andrew (2002): ‘The Quiet Superpower’, Newsweek, 17 June. Papacosma, S.Victor and Pierre-Henri Laurent (eds) (1999): NATO and the European Union: Confronting the Challenges of European Security and Enlargement, Kent, OH: The Lyman L.Lemnitzer Center. Rumsfeld, Donald H. (2001): ‘A New Kind of War’, New York Times, 27 September. Rumsfeld, Donald H. (2002): ‘Transforming the Military’, Foreign Affairs, 81/3, pp. 20– 32. Veremis, Thanos (2002a): Action Without Foresight. Western Involvement in Yugoslavia, Athens: ELIAMEP. Veremis, Thanos (2002b): Ta TOU [Polyvios Said], Kathimerini, 15 September.

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NATO-Russia Relations after 11 September ROBERT E.HUNTER

11 September 2001. This date has already entered international parlance as a single set of numbers that needs no further explanation: ‘9–11’ (‘nine-eleven’). The shock to the United States was also a shock to the international system, to a degree and in a way that is still not entirely apparent. One immediate result of 11 September was a change in Russian policy toward the United States and— eventually—toward NATO. This change, which will be described and analyzed below, may prove to be only tactical—a set of moves by Russian President Vladimir Putin to take advantage of circumstances—or it may prove to be of strategic significance, presaging a more lasting Russian engagement with the West, its powers and its institutions. To assess the possibility of such a more lasting engagement, it is first necessary to understand what has happened in Russia’s relationship with the West and—in particular for this essay—the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. THE REMAKING OF NATO IN THE 1990S Following the end of the Cold War, NATO remade itself during the 1990s to deal with radically transformed conditions of security on the European continent. The Soviet external empire had collapsed and all of its European ‘colonial’ possessions had gained both their independence and relief from communism. The Soviet Union itself collapsed, in history’s most radical peaceful transformation of state fortunes. Meanwhile, Germany was reunited, Yugoslavia was sundered into warring mini-states, and, in sum, the Cold War came to an end, ‘not with a bang but a whimper’,1 and with it the 75-year-old European civil war moved toward a close. At the same time, despite predictions to the contrary, ‘history’ did not ‘come to an end’ (Fukuyama 1992); NATO was not consigned to the ash heap of history, but rather acquired a status akin to that of God in Voltaire’s formulation: if it had not existed, it would have been necessary to invent it; and the alliance took on new duties, indeed, nothing less than the historical task of trying to help create

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a ‘Europe whole and free’ (Bush 1989). In short, that meant an effort to fashion a new security system in Eurasia and across the North Atlantic, based on the NATO association and American power, presence and leadership, that could provide lasting benefits for all European countries prepared to take part and to be at the expense of none. As it was reinvented during the 1990s, NATO was adapted around five grand propositions, each linked to the others: • To keep the United States engaged as a European power. • To preserve the best of NATO’s past, including its unique integrated military command structure and, fostered along with the European Union, the development of a European Civil Space within which war had been abolished. • To ground the states of Central Europe firmly and confidently in the West. • To reach out to Russia, seeking to draw it productively out of its 70-year self-imposed isolation and to ally it to Western society. • As an act of ratifying the significance of these building blocks for the future, to stop conflict within Europe proper, notably in Bosnia and then Kosovo. To pursue these ends, in the 1990s NATO purposefully took a series of steps that together, like the grand propositions, were interlocked, interdependent and mutually reinforcing. In 1997, it admitted three new members to the alliance, and promised to take in more, as far as European states were ‘ready and willing to shoulder the burdens of NATO membership’ (Hunter 1997). It created a Partnership for Peace (PFP), designed both as a preparatory school for states aspiring to NATO membership and a means for their gaining added security even if they did not pass that threshold—indeed, PFP has included states as far east as the Transcaucasus and Central Asia, in addition to virtually every non-NATO European state, including the Russian Federation. In parallel, NATO created a Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council (EAPC) with the same membership; and in 1997 concluded with Russia a Founding Act and set up a NATO-Russia Permanent Joint Council (PJC), while also negotiating a NATO-Ukraine Charter and launching a commission. In military steps, the Alliance streamlined and modernized its command structures, including the inauguration of new Combined Joint Task Force (CJTF) headquarters; and it developed its relations with, first, the Western European Union (WEU) and, later, the European Union directly, through the device of a European Security and Defense Identity/Policy (ESDI/P) that was to be allied with the EU’s Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP). And, finally, NATO conducted the first two military campaigns in his history, first to stop the fighting in Bosnia and then to end and then reverse the ‘ethnic cleansing’ by Serbia in Albanian-majority Kosovo (for a full discussion of all these developments, see Hunter 1999).

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REACHING OUT TO RUSSIA This was a major set of goals and actions to implement them. But of all the efforts undertaken by NATO during the 1990s, none was more problematic—and arguably none was historically so significant—as the effort to reach out to Russia. It had only recently been the focal point of enemy territory and political direction; now it was to be treated not as a defeated foe but rather as a country that could be weaned from its historical pattern as imperial power and brought, eventually, within the compass of the European Civil Space. None of this was idly or easily done. But there was precedent. During most of the first half of the twentieth century, European security was at the mercy of one great unresolved problem: the presence of the German behemoth in the midst of the continent, precisely at the time when the possibilities and practices of the old balance of power politics in Europe were proving to be outmoded and unworkable, not least because of the rise of ideologies and the difficulty of fashioning lasting and predictable coalitions to deal effectively with the growth of German power. The result of the collective failure to manage European security effectively were two world wars—and, indeed, major elements of the third—a war that stayed ‘cold’ in its central elements because of the enormity of common consequences if it turned ‘hot’. But following the Second World War, the victors, led by the United States, embarked on an experiment to try to contain the re-emergence of the problem of German power; rather than punishing Germany, traducing it, and isolating it as had been done in 1919, the Western powers sought to re-establish democracy, repair the damaged (western) German economy, foster new political and social institutions, and integrate Germany into the family of nations rather than keeping it firmly outside, as penitent. This ambition was, of course, aided by the re-emergence of Soviet power and communist purpose, but it had its deepest roots in memories of failures following the First World War. The success of (West) Germany’s transformation after 1945—to the democratic, prosperous European nation that we see now—seemed to be testimony that there could be a viable alternative to the old balance of power, and that a different ideology—Western democratic capitalism—could successfully replace the totalitarian and millenarian philosophies that had rent the continent in the previous period. But this success also had a major institutional component. The Marshall Plan (European Recovery Programme) was followed by the European Coal and Steel Community, and that by the European Economic Community and EURATOM, then the European Communities (an amalgam of all three), and finally by today’s European Union. While prosperity and political integration—including the diminishing of sovereignty—is the EU’s central organizing principle today, finding a way to deal with the ‘German problem’— through enmeshing resurgent German economic power in a larger framework—

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was the initial and prime motivating force for the so-called European Movement of the late 1940s and afterward. By the same token, NATO was created to contain Soviet power, but it also had the undeclared purpose of making sure that West Germany, in both its political and revived military power (after 1955), was firmly embedded in a larger association. West German forces were completed integrated within NATO; the United States was omnipresent and led the alliance; and the division of Europe also included the tacit—though potentially deadly— collaboration of the West with the East in insuring that, whatever else might happen, Germany would not again pose a threat to European security. By the time Germany was united at the end of 1990, it could be safely said that the ‘German problem’ had been solved, as far as any geopolitical ‘problem’ can ever be said to be solved, partly through the evolution of politics and society within the Federal Republic, partly through studied reconciliation of the two major competing western European nations, France and Germany, and partly through the continuation of the two great engines of institutional integration, the EU and NATO—if as nothing more than quiet insurance against anything untoward every happening again. Indeed, to the extent that it had a choice in the matter, the Soviet Union agreed that a unified Germany should be merged within NATO, rather than insisting that Germany-as-a-whole should somehow be neutral or should ‘float’ in the centre of Europe, in the contemporary term of art. The dawning of the twentieth century’s last decade thus left the matter of European security with only one great unresolved question, among minor questions like those posed by Yugoslavia as it began to be pulled apart: would the Soviet Union, then Russia, pose a continuing historic problem of power, or could something be done to bypass a recrudescence of the difficulties posed before by the very fact of the size, presence and position of such a great colossus on the edge of the European heartland? Was the retreat of Soviet power something that could be made permanent, or would Europe, at some point, find that this was only respite, as had been true of the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk nearly three-quarters of a century before? What transpired was an inspired gamble by the West, led by the United States, to treat Russia like (West) Germany after 1945 rather than the Germany that emerged from the Great War. This meant that, instead of glorying in the defeat of the Soviet Union—as it happened, through a hollowing out occasioned by its inability both to adapt to the demands of taking some part in the modernizing global economy and to retain its political as well as economic autarchy—the West would seek its revival along Western, democratic and capitalist lines, and in the process not stigmatize its role in the outside world but help to nurture it to play a productive role—albeit according to rules of fashioning security in Europe designed not in common but in the West.

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TRYING TO MAKE IT WORK Such was the design, indeed, a truly ‘grand design’ to try to avoid what otherwise could be the awful repetition or mimicking of the terrible and sometimes terrifying developments of the Cold War period, around the unresolved matter of coping with Soviet (Russian) power in a larger system; but the fulfilment of this has, at least so far, been far from successful. Part of the shortfall has stemmed from the sheer size of the task, which has had to begin with the transformation of the society (politics, economics, etc.) of the Russian Federation itself—to say nothing of the necessary parallel transformation and modernization of the states that emerged or re-emerged from the wreckage of the external and internal Soviet empires. Reforming an industrial state from a command-economy basis to a ‘free market’ basis has proved to be immensely daunting, and has so far succeeded, relatively, only in countries far smaller and with far less effective grounding in communist doctrine—notably Poland; and the capital requirements, themselves, hampered by the emergence of a Russian kleptocracy, have been mammoth, along with the complexities of moving the Russian economy in the direction of full engagement with the globalizing economy—the freely convertible rouble, after a number of difficult fits and starts, must itself be judged a considerable achievement. Further, Western states have been slow or reluctant or simply unprepared to be of much assistance to the Russian economic experiment, in part because of Russian shortcomings in fostering necessary confidence on the part of external capital, in part because of early diversions out of Russia, in major part by the so-called oligarchs, of much if not most of early Western capital flows, in part because of often-valid suspicions about Russian political-economic ambitions in former satellite territories (Belarus, Ukraine, parts of central Europe), and in part because investments in Russia have been either unattractive, too risky, or too much promoted according to political rather than economic criteria. But while promoting a lasting security in Europe (or Eurasia) that embraces the Russian Federation may depend to a major extent on the success of the internal Russian political, social and economic experiment and on success in linking a reformist Russian economy to that of the outside world, in the 1990s most attention, as least in the West, was focused on military and political-military elements of European ‘security’, including those regarding Russia’s future role; hence the NATO-Russia Founding Act of 1997 and a number of other, often bilateral, actions to try to engage Russia’s strategic future pacifically with the West. Most of these efforts were led by the United States. For example, the United States worked hard to secure the engagement of Russian troops in the NATO-led Implementation Force (IFOR) and then Stabilization Force (SFOR) in Bosnia. This was ratified by agreement between US Secretary of Defense William Perry

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and Russian Minister of Defense Pavel Grachev in November 1995. To the surprise of many, Grachev accepted that Russian troops would, in practice if not in theory, serve in an American army division under effective NATO command; he sent some of his best troops to undertake these duties; and Russian cooperation with NATO troops has been virtually without untoward incident from that time until now. Meanwhile, Russia finally—and reluctantly—agreed to join NATO’s Partnership for Peace (after having demurred, on the ground that it could not consider joining an institution in which it would theoretically be on the same footing as Albania). THE NATO-RUSSIA FOUNDING ACT OF 1997 The signal event was the forging of a NATO-Russia Founding Act in May 1997 (for a NATO-prepared chronology of events between 1991 and 1997 in the evolution of NATO-Russian relations, see NATO 2000a). This was closely connected to NATO’s decision, soon to be put into practice at its July summit in Madrid, to begin admitting to full membership, beyond the Partnership for Peace, countries that had formally been part of the Warsaw Pact. To that point these were central European rather than former Soviet states, but symbolic nevertheless of Russian ‘defeat’ and so perceived by a large fraction of unreconciled Russian opinion, especially among former communist leaders, some military leaders and the civilian nomenklatura. The allies, however, understood that designs to treat Russia ‘like Germany after 1945 rather than Germany after 1918’ depended in part on not humiliating it—at least purposefully, on not giving it cause to believe that it would face a new strategic or military threat, on not ignoring its reasonable political requirements, and on not isolating it, as separate from new security arrangements for the continent—all the more so because the ‘new’ arrangements would be carried out through an institution, however much reformed for the post-Cold War era, that had the ‘old’ name, NATO (on two occasions, in the author’s presence, senior Russian officials argued for a change in the name ‘NATO’ precisely for this reason). The NATO-Russia Founding Act was thus in part a concession by NATO to Russian internal politics and amour propre; but it also recognized that the effort to create a Europe ‘whole and free’ did require that Russia be brought within the ‘family’ and not be left outside, in both symbol and substance. But there were two specific constraints. First, NATO should not lose its capacity to be effective, both politically and militarily; thus the allies rejected (largely by ignoring it) the Russian suggestion that NATO transform itself into a largely political alliance, along the lines of the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE). Indeed, the Russians regularly championed OSCE over NATO as the preferred centrepiece of future European security. Second, the interests of the

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central Europeans should be fully protected—most important, they should be linked irrevocably and unmistakably to the West, fully participating in Euro-Atlantic institutions, and fully covered by Western (especially US) security guarantees. Thus, the NATO-Russia Founding Act was, at one level, a sop to Russian sensibilities, while both preserving NATO’s military capacities and striking a balance with the interests of central Europeans that in no way compromised the interests of the latter. At another level, however, NATO did accept giving practical assurances to Russia about its military security, however far-fetched NATO countries thought such a need to be. Thus, while gaining Russian acquiescence that NATO could develop military infrastructure in new allied states, the Allies included two ‘unilateral statements’ in the Founding Act, that purportedly were free-standing and not the product of negotiation with Russia (thus not to be perceived by central Europeans as concessions at their expense) but that in fact were largely tailor-made for the occasion—the second statement clearly so. The first unilateral NATO statement related to nuclear weapons. In major part the relevant passage stated: The member States of NATO reiterate that they have no intention, no plan and no reason to deploy nuclear weapons on the territory of new members, nor any need to change any aspect of NATO’s nuclear posture or nuclear policy—and do not foresee any future need to do so. (NATO 1997) The other key formulation related to the possible deployment of NATO conventional military forces on the territory of new members, but also, by implication, on the territory of old members: NATO reiterates that in the current and foreseeable security environment, the Alliance will carry out its collective defence and other missions by ensuring the necessary interoperability, integration, and capability for reinforcement rather than by additional permanent stationing of substantial combat forces. Accordingly, it will have to rely on adequate infrastructure commensurate with the above tasks. (NATO 1997) But the NATO-Russia Founding Act and the Permanent Joint Council (PJC) that it created were not just for window-dressing—a way to provide the Russian government of President Boris Yeltsin with a way to help justify the inevitable and unstoppable course of NATO expansion, a way to ‘soften the blow’. The PJC was also given a comprehensive agenda for developing relations between the Western Alliance and the Russian Federation. Indeed, it was assigned three

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distinct activities: consultation, the developing of joint initiatives for parallel statements or actions and—if consultations led to consensus—even joint decisions and the undertaking of joint actions. These would be decided and done on a ‘case-by-case basis’, and they would include equal participation in the ‘planning and preparation of joint operations’, which could include peacekeeping operations mandated either by the UN Security Council or the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe—the two bodies recognized universally in NATO and among other OSCE members as having the legal competence to act in this way, even if not exclusively so (the US view).2 This was a most ambitious agenda, especially the concept of potential ‘joint action’. And lest there be any doubt about the seriousness of the project, the Founding Act laid out no less than 19 separate areas for potential co-operation between NATO and Russia—primarily in the military field, but also lapping over into more general political issues—and with the potential for choosing yet more areas in common.3 Furthermore, the Russians established a permanent mission at NATO in March 1998 (NATO 2002a). Nevertheless, the scope of the agenda and the range of possible areas for NATO-Russia co-operation only served to obscure the major issues that still remained. In retrospect—indeed, at the time—it is clear that neither party was yet ready to implement in major measure what they had agreed at Paris. This was a wish list, a prospectus, a concertation on what might someday become possible, but not now. Indeed, implementing fully the promise of the Founding Act and Permanent Joint Council would have implied a radical restructuring, certainly of policies but even more of attitudes—attitudes with a long history and obsolescent but not totally obsolete strategic concerns on both sides. Not surprisingly, the PJC, which met most often at the level of ambassadors4 though twice a year at the level of ministers—one such meeting was held in September 1997 at the United Nations in New York, ‘on the margins’ of the annual convening of the UN General Assembly—tended to be more about protocol, exchanges of pleasantries and discussion of rudimentary issues than about serious bargaining over serious matters. Even so, there was major political value in PJC meetings. Russia was actually sitting down with NATO at NATO headquarters; for PJC purposes it gained a form of equality, even though NATO states were pointed in indicating that they caucused among themselves beforehand to try to arrive at common agreed positions to be then discussed with the Russian representatives; and there was a signal sent to all and sundry that Russia did have a special place in the future of European security and that NATO recognized that special place. Form was more important than substance, but was nonetheless significant. Despite these mutual efforts, however, the PJC proved to be too much, too soon, at least in terms of expectations. Russia still felt essentially isolated from key discussions and decisions taken by the NATO allies—indeed, the Founding

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Act specifically provided that neither party could veto the independent actions of the other.5 NATO AND KOSOVO These arrangements finally bumped up against political reality at the time of NATO’s military intervention in regard to Kosovo in the spring of 1999. Even though the Russians had been fully part of the so-called Contact Group (the United States, Russia, Britain, France, Germany and Italy) that had engaged in negotiations with the Yugoslav government, it strongly opposed direct NATO military action. Several reasons have been advanced for the intensity of this Russian opposition: the lingering psychological effects of having (as the Soviet Union) lost the Cold War; resentment at seeing NATO advance militarily into Central Europe, precisely at a time when it was ratifying the admission of three new members from the former Warsaw Pact;6 residual fears of being ‘encircled’, and certainly at being ‘excluded’ from a serious European security venture (though largely because of Russia’s abstention); opposition to some elements of NATO’s revised Strategic Concept adopted at the April 1999 summit in Washington; concern that NATO was acting without a formal remit from either the UN Security Council or the OSCE (although Russia was prepared to block a decision in both bodies), thus weakening some inhibitions of international law; and the vestiges of historic Russian relations with Serbia and between the Russian and Serbian Orthodox Churches (see Hunter 1999b). Be that as it may, when it became clear that NATO’s prosecution of the war would not slacken and that Russia’s informal ‘client’, Federal Republic of Yugoslavia President Slobodan Milosevic, was going to suffer a humiliating defeat —with which Russia would gain nothing from being associated in impotence— the Russians came to support NATO conditions for ending the war. This change in Russian policy also came in the immediate aftermath of the Cologne meeting of the Group of Eight (G8), which ratified efforts at diplomacy by a team led by Finnish President Martti Ahtisaari and Special Envoy of the President of the Russian Federation for the Balkans (and former prime minister) Victor Chernomyrdin (G8 1999b). This was done in the context of G8 agreement on something that Russia very much wanted: relief for its mammoth external debt.7 Soon thereafter, with Russia joining in the ‘encirclement’ of his position, Milosevic accepted Western conditions and the war ended. One incident engaging the Russians did mar the end, the so-called ‘dash to Pristina’ by a relatively small Russian military contingent from the Stabilization Force (SFOR) in Bosnia. This led to some acrimony between US and British NATO commanders and a good deal of uncertainty about Russian intentions— if this was, indeed, more than a local-commander’s decision. But it did not have

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a lasting impact, and it might, indeed, have helped Yeltsin at home with restive ‘public opinion’.8 The Kosovo conflict was the low point in NATO-Russia relations, at least in the period following the NATO-Russia Founding Act and leaving aside ongoing Russian unhappiness about NATO’s formal incorporation of three central European states. From then on, for the same reasons of mutual advantage—if not of necessity—that led to compatibility if not coalescence of positions over Kosovo, these relations began to get back on track. NATO and Russian foreign and defense ministers were able to meet again for the first time after the Kosovo conflict in May and June 2000.9 And, after several years of effort by the allies and Russian temporizing, a NATO Information Office was finally opened in Moscow in February 2001 (NATO 2002a). Foreign ministers met again at Budapest in May 2001 and focused mostly on issues related to the Former Yugoslavia, as well as on the current ‘work programme’ for the PCJ. For example: Ministers noted a Progress Report on the implementation of the PJC Work Programme for 2001 and expressed their satisfaction with the broad range of issues addressed in the PJC since their last meeting. These included, inter alia, Russian proposals for non-strategic missile defence, nuclear weapons issues, including inter alia NATO proposals for Confidence and Security Building Measures in the nuclear field, defence reforms, arms control, problems of proliferation, the retraining of discharged military personnel, combating international terrorism as well as dialogue on ways and means to improve cooperation in the EAPC and PFP. Ministers in particular welcomed the progress achieved in NATO-Russia cooperation on search and rescue at sea. (NATO 2001b) The parallel meeting of defense ministers at the beginning of June covered a roughly similar agenda, with not much more to report: Ministers expressed their satisfaction with the broad range of issues addressed in the PJC since their last meeting, including defence reform, arms control, problems of proliferation, the retraining of discharged military personnel, combating international terrorism, as well as dialogue on ways and means to improve cooperation in the EAPC and PFP. Ministers pursued discussion on Russian proposals for non-strategic missile defence and agreed to continue this exchange of views in the PJC. They also addressed nuclear weapons issues, including inter alia NATO proposals for nuclear Confidence and Security Building Measures. Ministers endorsed a Progress Report on the implementation of the work programme on cooperation in search and rescue at sea under the auspices of the

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NATO-Russia PJC, and a work programme for July-December 2001. They also welcomed the Memorandum of Agreement on the opening of an ‘Information, Consultation and Training Centre’ on the Resettlement of Military Personnel due for discharge or discharged from the Russian Federation Armed Forces. (NATO 2001a) 11 SEPTEMBER This pattern of slow improvement in NATO-Russia relations was interrupted decisively by the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon in the United States on 11 September 2001, but for reasons that were not directly germane to those relations. The following day, for the first time in its history, the Alliance invoked Article 5 of the Washington Treaty—the so-called Three Musketeers, ‘one for all and all for one’, clause—that, among other things, commits each member, ‘if such an armed attack occurs [to] assist the Party or Parties so attacked by taking forthwith, individually and in concert with the other Parties, such action as it deems necessary, including the use of armed force’ [emphasis added] (NATO 1949).10 Less noted at the time, the NATO-Russia Permanent Joint Council met the same day in extraordinary session. While Russia was by no means bound by any decision taken by the allies, it did join in strong expression of condemnation of the terrorist attacks. Perhaps the fact that this statement was generally ignored had to do with the press of other developments; but it also reflected the changing nature of relations between the West and Russia, in practice as well as in theory. More to the point, these words paled against the actions taken by Russia’s president. Vladimir Putin reacted almost instantaneously to the terrorist attacks. He was reportedly the first foreign leader to reach President George Bush by phone. He promptly offered the United States assistance in doing what it had to do to find and punish the perpetrators. And in the ensuing period, Putin blessed US use of bases and other assets in Central Asia, countries that had been part of the Soviet Union. While he might have had little choice but to put a good face on the inevitable—the United States could negotiate its own arrangements, and each of the cooperating Central Asian states had its own national reasons for being helpful —Moscow’s verbal support on this point was still useful to Washington. In addition, Russia reportedly provided intelligence support to the United States and, in general, made clear that it would not in any way exploit America’s difficulties; that neither terrorists or their supporters could look to Moscow for other than condemnation; that it would be supportive rather than obstructive of US military efforts in Afghanistan; and that Russia would even in the following

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months see an emerging partnership with the United States in the struggles against ‘international terrorism’. Indeed, some commentators even argued that Russia was of as much or more practical use to the United States than was NATO in regard to Afghanistan, at least outside the direct effort to overthrow the Taliban regime, in particular because Russian political support in the region, plus intelligence co-operation, could not come from US assets on their own, whereas, with the exception of Britain, what the allies provided in terms of military support in Afghanistan was—it was argued—of relatively marginal importance.11 Of course, Putin had motives beyond altruism and building good will with the Americans. These became apparent in the following months, and included a significant muting of US criticism of Russian military actions in Chechnya;12 and US tolerance of—or indifference to—Moscow’s policy of limiting efforts for various forms of autonomy from the Russian Federation on the part of constituent elements, such as largely-Muslim Tatarstan. In addition, Russia looked with even greater expectations to the United States for economic engagement in a variety of areas, including its continued pursuit of membership in the World Trade Organization (WTO), presumably without having first to meet all of the WTO’s stringent requirements for entry. And Putin looked to forge some sort of limited but expanding partnership with the United States, burying, in the process, old disputes like the fate of the Anti-Ballistic Missile (ABM) Treaty and even vigorous Russian opposition to NATO expansion—issues that, for Putin, had clearly never been of strategic or military importance, as opposed to symbolic and political concern, not least a sense of humiliation at dropping out of the ranks of superpowers. Most important, however, was whether Putin was simply exploiting US needs for his own and Russia’s advantage, short-or long-term; or whether he was seizing upon this moment to carry decisively forward an ambition to link Russia’s destiny with the West that—if accurately assessed—could be gleaned from his earlier actions: going all the way back to indications he had given to US President Bill Clinton in June 2000 that he was not necessarily wedded to the ABM Treaty, unchanged,13 or even to his predecessor’s acceptance of the Founding Act as ‘compensation’ for the first round of NATO’s expansion into Central Europe. At least in its presentation, Putin’s sudden series of efforts to increase Russian engagement with the West was a global concept: not trying to play off the US and Europe against one another, or to give preference to one or the other (though Putin could not ignore America’s overall primacy as sole superpower and leader of the Western Alliance), but rather to seek everywhere for opportunities to become part of the West. Economically, this clearly made sense; whether it makes sense for Russia politically, especially in terms of the evolution of domestic politics, is still to be seen. But Putin clearly was abandoning, at least for the time being, a set of policies that had sometimes been identified with former foreign

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minister and prime minister (under Yeltsin), Yvgeniy Primakov, first to look to Western Europe rather than to the US, and second, when that proved sterile, to look to build some sort of counterweight to American power, in the form of the so-called Shanghai Group.14 With this new orientation to the West—whether solely self-interested (and hence likely to be only tactical) or committed to a broader process of give-and-take engagement (and hence likely to be strategic)—it would have been surprising if Putin had not also begin seeking a new relationship with NATO, certainly to recast the existing relationship, institutional and political, in new terms, in order to go beyond the poor experience of recent years. In parallel, it would have been surprising if he had not also sought to increase Russian co-operation and engagement with the European Union. And for their part, both NATO and the EU were interested in proceeding down these same parallel tracks, as part of their original strategies of engaging and eventually integrating Russia— borrowing from the post-Second World War model for Germany. TOWARD THE NATO-RUSSIA COUNCIL The immediate upshot was agreement at the regular series of NATO ministerial meetings near the end of 2001 to negotiate a new relationship with the Russian Federation and to give it fresh expression in some sort of NATO-Russia council that would at least go beyond the Permanent Joint Council. Thus the politics of a new effort to build some practical forms of co-operation were set; what remained was to use the process of negotiation to develop the terms of that co-operation and to assess whether it could be real or whether it would prove to be inadequate, as the Founding Act and Permanent Joint Council had proved to be in face of the domestic stresses in Russia posed by NATO’s military operations over Kosovo. A slight problem, however, was that the Founding Act had been crafted too well; the PJC had been given too many of the obvious tasks to pursue in NATO-Russia relations. But for reasons of politics—post-Kosovo, post-11 September—it was necessary that the new relationship at least have the appearance of being new. There was also the renewal of the struggle to strike an appropriate, politically and strategically sustainable balance between the interests of Russia and those of central European states: the balance that had been struck in 1997 might not be adequate in the new circumstances of Russian movement toward the West. On the first matter, Russia and the allies agreed that the structure of the PJC would be changed in a few ways. The PJC had a triple chairmanship—NATO secretary-general, Russian ambassador to Belgium, and one of the NATO national permanent representatives. The new council would have only one chairman, the

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secretary-general. But lest that be seen as reducing Russia’s role and authority, it could be argued that these had increased, because the new council was to act as a whole, with Russia putatively on a completely equal footing with each of the NATO allies. Under the PJC, the allies quite deliberately were seen to meet among themselves beforehand and to work out common positions on the issues to be discussed with the Russians; and then the different arguments to be made at the PJC on each issue were parceled out to different allies. Under the new scheme, in theory the allies would not ‘pre-cook’ their positions, but rather each would supposedly arrive at the meeting with the Russians without having agreed with allied partners beforehand on positions to be advanced. This was a fiction, but not so transparent as to vitiate the value of this conceit. In the term of art, the old PJC relationship, dubbed ‘19+1’ (‘nineteen-plus-one’), for the 19 NATO allies and the one Russian Federation, respectively, would become a council ‘at 20’, with the presumption of equality, and with formal adoption of the NATO practice (which also obtained in the PJC) that consensus was required for agreement on anything—i.e., that no vote would ever be taken, but the secretary-general would advance a proposition, after discussion, and it would be approved if no country objected. As debate progressed in the spring of 2002, however, the balance began to shift. The war in Afghanistan was over, the ‘war on terrorism’ had settled down for a long season, with what seemed to be less of a requirement for direct Russian help, and the issue of Iraq and weapons of mass destruction had not yet become so dominant in US foreign policy and within the Western Alliance—although President Bush had already made his ‘axis of evil’ speech, singling out Iraq, Iran and North Korea. NATO countries were feeling less generous toward Russia, therefore. Furthermore, central European countries began to fret that, despite NATO promises, Russia would be given a preferred position in NATO councils, including on issues that could prove to be at their expense. And some of the European allies also began to worry about the place that Russia would be accorded in the long term—even though, by mutual agreement, the new arrangements were specifically crafted on the basis that this was in no way a step toward Russian membership in NATO.15 This European concern about Russia’s place was especially important because the development of a new relationship was coming at a time when there was growing concern about the importance the United States was according NATO—and seemed likely to accord NATO in the future, what with the US shift in emphasis to the so-called Greater Middle East, and to a degree to its bilateral relationship with Russia. And the United States also saw some risk that its influence at NATO could be diluted if the new council with Russia gained plenary powers and became more important on some issues where Russia had a legitimate claim to be involved (e.g., counter-proliferation, ballistic missile defense on the continent, counter-terrorism, peace-making and peace-keeping),

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but where the United States might want clearly to retain the ability to exclude Russia at some point.16 NATO thus offered a balanced approach: the agenda for meetings of the 20 countries—for a time provisionally called the ‘Council of 20’ by many commentators—would be agreed in common—i.e., with any member having the right to veto even the consideration of an issue. There could be consultation on a wide range of issues, common decision and even, on a case-by-case basis, common action—a set of possibilities that was, in fact, an extension of provisions already in the Founding Act of five years earlier. At the same time, however, at the behest of some of the smaller allies, as well as the three new central European allies, any member of the new council could pull an issue off the agenda (as well as having the right to veto any decision)—thus ensuring that the North Atlantic Council (NAC) could retake custody of any issue and exclude consultations with Russia in the new forum. Of course, Russia would have the same right—e.g., regarding some issue of importance to itself that it would not want to be on the new council’s agenda, although, of course, it could not then prevent the North Atlantic Council from considering the same issue on its own. In sum, therefore, on procedural issues, the Russians gained three things that they had not already had in the PJC: a name that connoted equality —‘NATO-Russia Council’; a formal discussion-and decision-making process that was to be represented as ‘at 20’, and the presumption, with political rather than juridical weight, that issues affecting NATO that were also of interest to the Russian Federation would be considered by the NATO-Russia Council and not just be reserved to the NAC—although the NAC was not barred from considering the same issue in parallel. Politically, therefore, the Russians had achieved a somewhat better arrangement; but procedurally, at least on paper as opposed to potential practice, the Allies had fully preserved all of its rights including one— the right of any single ally to pull an item off the agenda—that was implicit but not spelled out in the construction of the PJC. The new NATO-Russia Council was ratified and inaugurated at a summit in Rome on 28 May 2002—like the Paris summit that saw the signing of the Founding Act in 1997 in that the date was set, and hence the presumption of agreement accepted, before the negotiating had been completed. Its salient provisions, though designed to foster ‘a qualitatively new relationship between NATO and the Russian Federation’, were remarkably similar to those of the Founding Act, as set out in the Rome Declaration of Heads of States and Government: NATO member states and Russia will work as equal partners in areas of common interest. The NATO-Russia Council will provide a mechanism for consultation, consensus building, cooperation, joint decision, and joint

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action for the member states of NATO and Russia on a wide spectrum of security issues in the Euro-Atlantic region… It will operate on the principle of consensus. It will work on the basis of a continuous political dialogue on security issues among its members with a view to early identification of emerging problems, determination of optimal common approaches and the conduct of joint actions, as appropriate. The members of the NATO-Russia Council, acting in their national capacities and in a manner consistent with their respective collective commitments and obligations, will take joint decisions and will bear equal responsibility, individually and jointly, for their implementation. Each member may raise in the NATO-Russia Council issues related to the implementation of joint decisions. (NATO 2002b) As forecast, NATO’s secretary general would chair the council, which would meet at least once a month at the level of ambassadors, twice a year each at the level of foreign and defence ministers, and occasionally at the summit level. There were also provisions for preparing NATO-Russia Council meetings, through a Preparatory Committee that could also ‘draw upon the resources of existing NATO committees’—in Alliance bureaucratic management, an important inclusion of Russian representatives—and for meetings of various military officials, including at least monthly meetings of military representatives and twice-yearly meetings of national military chiefs of staff (NATO 2002b). Of course, substance was also important—though, arguably, not as important as process, since the issues dealt with by the new council could change, and indeed this was provided for, while process, once established, is much harder to alter. Given that the original Founding Act of 1997 had embraced so many topics for possible consideration by the PJC, it is not surprising that, as the PJC was being supplanted,17 its areas of activity were appropriated wholesale: The NATO-Russia Council, replacing the NATO-Russia Permanent Joint Council, will focus on all areas of mutual interest identified in Section III of the Founding Act, including the provision to add other areas by mutual agreement. NATO member states and Russia will…continue to intensify their cooperation in areas including the struggle against terrorism, crisis management, non-proliferation, arms control and confidence-building measures, theatre missile defence, search and rescue at sea, military-to-military cooperation, and civil emergencies. (NATO 2002b) In regard to these eight areas, the Rome summit spelled out a series of concrete areas of co-operation.18

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In sum, in the first formal act of the new NATO-Russia Council, the heads of state and government of the twenty governments averred that: Today, we have launched a new era in NATO-Russia cooperation… We enter into this new level of cooperation with a great sense of responsibility and equally great resolve to forge a safer and more prosperous future for all our nations…[and] we are united in our resolve to overcome the threats and challenges of our time. (NATO 2002b) AFTER THE ROME SUMMIT After the Rome Summit, NATO began the practical work of developing the NATO-Russia Council. It was not the most important item on the overall NATO agenda, however. Partly this was because the United States was paying increasing attention to Iraq, and this naturally also affected interests and concerns at NATO headquarters. Partly, the Russians were still a bit slow in providing new staff for their expanded mission to NATO, and the projected replacement of their chief representative on the political side was delayed. And partly, NATO had a full agenda leading up to the Prague summit on 21–22 November 2002, which, billed as the ‘transformation summit’, had a lot more to do with issues relating to Iraq and the war on terrorism than to practical arrangements to engage Russia in some of NATO’s deliberations. As NATO itself was not to have a formal role in either of the two US preoccupations—though NATO allies would be engaged as independent nations—so much more so the Russians would not have a role to consider within the formal structures of the Atlantic Alliance. Nevertheless, the allies and Russia did press forward with their new experiment (see NATO 2003), and they reported on several significant efforts— certainly compared to the work of the old PJC—at a September 2002 meeting in Warsaw of the NATO defence ministers and their Russian counterpart, a now-traditional part of the annual ‘retreat’ of NATO defence ministers. As summarized by the NATO secretary general: All ministers agreed that the record of the NATO-Russia Council in the defence field is already a remarkable one. We have successfully injected a new dynamism into a wide range of projects. Some working groups, including those on Theatre Missile Defence and Peacekeeping, have already produced impressive results. For example, we have agreed on a generic concept of joint NATO-Russia peacekeeping operations… NATO and Russia are at this moment conducting a joint civil emergency preparedness exercise in Russia… The ‘twenty’ reasserted their determination to stand shoulder-to-shoulder together in the campaign against terrorism. We are

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planning a major conference on the role of the military in this campaign in Moscow in December. Other important forthcoming events reviewed by Ministers included a meeting in early October between Allied and Russian experts on defence reform… In short, there was a shared sense of satisfaction with results already achieved and great hopes for future achievements. (NATO 2002c) The NRC also met at the level of foreign ministers at the summit meeting in November 2002—which Vladimir Putin did not attend, presumably lest he appear to be blessing formally (as opposed to informally—which was already done) the admission of seven more countries to NATO, including three (the Baltic countries) that had once been part of the Soviet Union. Thus Lord Robertson, in his role as NRC chairman, reported progress achieved in intensifying cooperation in the following areas: • in crisis management, where NRC Ambassadors agreed on a political framework to take work forward on future NATO-Russia peacekeeping operations…; • in the struggle against terrorism…[and] looked forward to the NATO-Russia Conference on The Role of the Military in Combating Terrorism’ on 9 December in Moscow; and welcomed steps to meet more effectively contemporary security challenges, in particular terrorism and the proliferation of Weapons of Mass Destruction; • in defence reform, where the October 2002 Rome Seminar has paved the way for a more fruitful dialogue within the NRC and increased cooperation in adapting military forces to meet shared security threats; • in theatre missile defence, where an ambitious work programme has set forth a road to interoperability of Allied and Russian systems; • in civil emergencies, where the September 2002 exercise hosted by Russia at Bogorodsk has provided an impetus for increased cooperation; and • in non-proliferation, where work is underway for a joint assessment of global trends in the proliferation of NBC agents and their means of delivery. (NATO 2002d) Furthermore, immediately following the Prague summit, President George W. Bush traveled to St Petersburg to meet President Vladimir Putin briefly on the latter’s home ground, and Putin said: At least within the Group of 20 [the NATO-Russia Council], we are interacting, are cooperating in a very well way, in a very good way.’19

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However consequential these initial efforts in the NATO-Russia Council prove to be, the most important points are political: that a NATO-Russia Council was created; that Russia was accorded the apparent status as an ‘equal’ for a range of issues (though it did not gain exclusive competence for dealing with these issues with NATO); that the bad blood over Kosovo had been washed out; and that there was a dramatization of Russia’s engagement with the West, as its first and preferred option, perhaps also to become permanent. Russia was also being treated with respect; the US superpower was, to an extent, paying court to it beyond what Russia’s immediate political, economic and military power would require; and the European allies were in a position to assert a role in the burgeoning US-Russian partnership (which begs the question, even now, whether that partnership can survive a winding down of the war on terrorism and efforts against weapons of mass destruction, as well as a potential rising of differences of interests and viewpoint between Russia and the US—and other NATO countries—in different parts of Asia, in particular.) Nevertheless, this new NATO-Russia relationship is important and ratifies a significant break with the past, as the world, in general, passes beyond the post-Cold War period into something else, defined psychologically by what happened on 11 September and, especially, because of the US reaction to it: the ‘sole superpower’ was able to set the mode among the world’s major powers and in much of the global system, even if 11 September did not fundamentally change the nature of the international system and certainly did not eliminate any of the classical problems of power in current times. The post-Rome Russian engagement with NATO—in its practical details largely a recycling of the Founding Act and its implementation, but politically something ‘new’—even led to a seeming reversal of the process of connecting NATO-Russia relations to NATO’s enlargement. It can be argued that, in 1997, NATO offered Russia the Founding Act as informal ‘compensation’ for admitting three countries to membership (although this linkage was always denied); whereas in 2002, it can be argued that NATO went so far as to invited seven more countries to membership, including the three Baltic states, in part as ‘compensation’ to them—e.g., added reassurances of security against a revived and potentially revanchist Russia—as a price for the creation of the NATO-Russia Council which, while not much different from the PJC, did carry with it the intention of the United States to draw closer to Putin’s Russia and to forge a relationship, enduring or not, with a country as proximate as any NATO ally save Turkey to the locus of America’s most important immediate strategic and domestic politics preoccupations. What transpires in NATO-Russia relations in the future—as well as in the parallel developments of EU-Russia relations—is most difficult to predict, especially given the uneven record over the past several years, as external events

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have had such an impact. Nevertheless, what has already been done does open the way for Russia’s further integration, however slow, with the West, and it offers a framework for working out a new pattern of relations, certainly in ‘good times’, but perhaps this time in ‘bad times’, as well. NATO-Russia relations also help to reduce, for the European allies, the potential problems of a diversion of US strategic interest away from Europe, and especially in the direction of regions where, in some ways, Russia can be more relevant to America’s interests, at least in the short-term, than are most of the Europeans. In this sense if in no other, the new NATO-Russia Council can be beneficial, an act presaging the possibilities of a new era. NOTES 1. ‘This is the way the world ends/This is the way the world ends/This is the way the world ends/Not with a bang but with a whimper’ (Eliot 1925). 2. The Founding Act states:

The Permanent Joint Council will engage in three distinct activities: consulting on the topics in Section III of this Act and on any other political or security issue determined by mutual consent; on the basis of these consultations, developing joint initiatives on which NATO and Russia would agree to speak or act in parallel; once consensus has been reached in the course of consultation, making joint decisions and taking joint action on a case-by-case basis, including participation, on an equitable basis, in the planning and preparation of joint operations, including peacekeeping operations under the authority of the UN Security Council or the responsibility of the OSCE. (NATO 1997) 3. Article III, Areas for Consultation and Cooperation, reads:

In building their relationship, NATO and Russia will focus on specific areas of mutual interest. They will consult and strive to cooperate to the broadest possible degree in the following areas:

• issues of common interest related to security and stability in the Euro-Atlantic area or to concrete crises, including the contribution of NATO and Russia to security and stability in this area; c

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• conflict prevention, including preventive diplomacy, crisis management and conflict resolution taking into account the role and responsibility of the UN and the OSCE and the work of these organisations in these fields; • joint operations, including peacekeeping operations, on a case-by-case basis, under the authority of the UN Security Council or the responsibility of the OSCE, and if Combined Joint Task Forces (CJTF) are used in such cases, participation in them at an early stage; • participation of Russia in the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council and the Partnership for Peace; • exchange of information and consultation on strategy, defence policy, the military doctrines of NATO and Russia, and budgets and infrastructure development programmes; • arms control issues; • nuclear safety issues, across their full spectrum; • preventing the proliferation of nuclear, biological and chemical weapons, and their delivery means, combatting nuclear trafficking and strengthening cooperation in specific arms control areas, including political and defence aspects of proliferation; • possible cooperation in Theatre Missile Defence; • enhanced regional air traffic safety, increased air traffic capacity and reciprocal exchanges, as appropriate, to promote confidence through increased measures of transparency and exchanges of information in relation to air defence and related aspects of airspace management/control. This will include exploring possible cooperation on appropriate air defence related matters; • increasing transparency, predictability and mutual confidence regarding the size and roles of the conventional forces of member States of NATO and Russia; • reciprocal exchanges, as appropriate, on nuclear weapons issues, including doctrines and strategy of NATO and Russia; • coordinating a programme of expanded cooperation between respective military establishments, as further detailed below; • pursuing possible armaments-related cooperation through association of Russia with NATO’s Conference of National Armaments Directors; • conversion of defence industries; • developing mutually agreed cooperative projects in defence-related economic, environmental and scientific fields;

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• conducting joint initiatives and exercises in civil emergency preparedness and disaster relief; • combatting terrorism and drug trafficking; and • improving public understanding of evolving relations between NATO and Russia, including the establishment of a NATO documentation centre or information office in Moscow. Other areas can be added by mutual agreement. (NATO 1997), 4. These were the 16 (later 19) NATO Permanent Representatives plus the Russian ambassador to Belgium, who was also responsible, without formal diplomatic status other than as a member of the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council, for Russia’s relations with NATO. Ironically, the PJC adopted what it called a ‘troika’ chairmanship: the NATO secretary-general (who is also chairman of the North Atlantic Council), the Russian ambassador, and one of the NATO ambassadors, rotating each quarter by country according to the English alphabet. 5. The act reads:

Provisions of this Act do not provide NATO or Russia, in any way, with a right of veto over the actions of the other nor do they infringe upon or restrict the rights of NATO or Russia to independent decision-making and action. They cannot be used as a means to disadvantage the interests of other states. (NATO 1997) 6. The war in Kosovo began nine days after Poland, Hungary and the Czech Republic were formally inducted into NATO on 15 March 1999. 7. The G8 Cologne Summit communiqué stated:

We welcome the outline agreements recently reached by Russia with the IMF and the World Bank and look forward to their speedy implementation as a further important step in Russia’s reform program. Once an IMF agreement is in place, we encourage the Paris Club to act expeditiously to negotiate a debt rescheduling agreement with Russia. In order to support Russia’s efforts towards macroeconomic stability and sustainable growth, we encourage the Paris Club to continue to deal with the problem of the Russian debt arising from Soviet era obligations, aiming at comprehensive solutions at a later stage once Russia has established conditions that enable it to implement a more ambitious economic reform program. (G8 1999a: para.6) 8. For a discussion of NATO-Russia relations that includes this period, see Hunter 2000. 9. See NATO 2000b. For details, see NATO 2000c,d.

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10. It is useful to note that Article 5 does not, in fact, require allied nations to go to war. In this sense, it is more of a political than a military commitment, but still forceful for all that:

The Parties agree that an armed attack against one or more of them in Europe or North America shall be considered an attack against them all and consequently they agree that, if such an armed attack occurs, each of them, in exercise of the right of individual or collective self-defence recognised by Article 51 of the Charter of the United Nations, will assist the Party or Parties so attacked by taking forthwith, individually and in concert with the other Parties, such action as it deems necessary, including the use of armed force, to restore and maintain the security of the North Atlantic area. 11. The United States deliberately did not engage the NATO alliance in managing the war in Afghanistan. NATO’s declaration of Article 5 was not asked for by Washington, but rather was an expression of allied political solidarity plus an effort not to be sidelined in the ensuing conflict. It is important to note, however, that NATO countries have in fact provided substantial direct assistance in regard to Afghanistan:

Our Allies have delivered on that [Article 5] obligation with concrete actions, both individually and collectively: • All 19 NATO Allies and the 9 NATO ‘aspirants’ have provided blanket overflight rights, access to ports and bases, refueling assistance, and increased law-enforcement cooperation. NATO AWACS (Airborne Warning and Control System) crews logged over 3,000 hours patrolling and protecting American skies while US planes were called to Afghanistan. • Sixteen Allies now support Operations Enduring Freedom (OEF) in Afghanistan and the global campaign against terrorism, Operation Noble Eagle. Fourteen Allies have deployed forces in the region. Nine Allies are participating in combat operations in Afghanistan. • Allies and other partner countries have deployed nearly 4,000 troops to Afghanistan and also provide 95% of the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF), led first by the United Kingdom and now by Turkey. (US Department of State 2002). 12. See, for example, the following exchange in an interview of President George W. Bush by Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty:

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Q. President Vladimir Putin has equated his war in Chechnya with the US war on terrorism. Do you agree with that equation, or do you still feel, as was stated during your election campaign, that Russian forces are committing brutalities against innocent Chechen civilians? THE PRESIDENT: I think that Russia should be able to—or hope that Russia should be able to solve their issue with Chechnya peacefully. That’s not to say that Vladimir shouldn’t do what it takes to protect his people from individual terrorist attacks. But this is a different kind of war that we face. This is a war where we’re dealing with people who hide in caves and kind of shadowing corners of the world and send people to their suicidal deaths. It’s a war that I believe can lend itself both to chasing those people down and, at the same time, solving issues in a peaceful way, with respect for the human rights of minorities within countries. (Bush 2002). 13. See Clinton and Putin 2000, and especially a key paragraph: ‘8. They recall the existing provision of the ABM Treaty to consider possible changes in the strategic situation that have a bearing on the provisions of the Treaty, and, as appropriate, to consider possible proposals for further increasing the viability of the Treaty’. 14. China, Russia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan (after June 2001 including Uzbekistan and renamed the Shanghai Cooperation Organization). Strikingly, by the time of the Prague NATO summit in November 2002, China was sending observers to NATO and was indicating the desire for an ongoing dialogue—in full realization that this was at variance with the promulgations of the Shanghai Group, from whose putative strictures on accommodating to US power Russia had already departed. 15. For a variety of reasons, Russia has long ruled out the possibility of joining NATO, although it, like most NATO allies, goes through the ritual of not excluding Russian membership for all time. Obviously, a Russia-in-NATO would fundamentally change the alliance: among other things, that would require that other allies give Russia an Article 5 guarantee against all comers, including China. Thus, if Russia were to join NATO, both the Alliance and global politics would be radically different from what they are today. 16. For a discussion of many of central issues involved in creating the NATO-Russia Council, see Hunter, Rogov and Oliker 2000. 17. For a discussion of issues related to whether the PJC should have continued in parallel with the NATO-Russia Council or be supplanted, see Hunter, Rogov and Oliker 2000: 21–2. 18. The areas of co-operation are:

Struggle Against Terrorism: strengthen cooperation through a multi-faceted approach, including joint assessments of the terrorist threat to the Euro-Atlantic area, focused on specific threats, for example, to Russian and NATO forces, to civilian aircraft, or to critical infrastructure; an initial step will be a joint assessment of

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the terrorist threat to NATO, Russia and Partner peacekeeping forces in the Balkans. Crisis Management: strengthen cooperation, including through: regular exchanges of views and information on peacekeeping operations, including continuing cooperation and consultations on the situation in the Balkans; promoting interoperability between national peacekeeping contingents, including through joint or coordinated training initiatives; and further development of a generic concept for joint NATO-Russia peacekeeping operations. Non-Proliferation: broaden and strengthen cooperation against the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction (WMD) and the means of their delivery, and contribute to strengthening existing non-proliferation arrangements through: a structured exchange of views, leading to a joint assessment of global trends in proliferation of nuclear, biological and chemical agents; and exchange of experience with the goal of exploring opportunities for intensified practical cooperation on protection from nuclear, biological and chemical agents. Arms Control and Confidence-Building Measures: recalling the contributions of arms control and confidence-and security-building measures (CSBMs) to stability in the Euro-Atlantic area and reaffirming adherence to the Treaty on Conventional Armed Forces in Europe (CFE) as a cornerstone of European security, work cooperatively toward ratification by all the States Parties and entry into force of the Agreement on Adaptation of the CFE Treaty, which would permit accession by non-CFE states; continue consultations on the CFE and Open Skies Treaties; and continue the NATO-Russia nuclear experts consultations. Theatre Missile Defence: enhance consultations on theatre missile defence (TMD), in particular on TMD concepts, terminology, systems and system capabilities, to analyse and evaluate possible levels of interoperability among respective TMD systems, and explore opportunities for intensified practical cooperation, including joint training and exercises. Search and Rescue at Sea: monitor the implementation of the NATO-Russia Framework Document on Submarine Crew Rescue, and continue to promote cooperation, transparency and confidence between NATO and Russia in the area of search and rescue at sea. Military-to-Military Cooperation and Defence Reform: pursue enhanced military-to-military cooperation and interoperability through enhanced joint training and exercises and the conduct of

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joint demonstrations and tests; explore the possibility of establishing an integrated NATO-Russia military training centre for missions to address the challenges of the 21st century; enhance cooperation on defence reform and its economic aspects, including conversion. Civil Emergencies: pursue enhanced mechanisms for future NATO-Russia cooperation in responding to civil emergencies. Initial steps will include the exchange of information on recent disasters and the exchange of WMD consequence management information. New Threats and Challenges: In addition to the areas enumerated above, explore possibilities for confronting new challenges and threats to the Euro-Atlantic area in the framework of the activities of the NATO Committee on Challenges to Modern Society (CCMS); initiate cooperation in the field of civil and military airspace controls; and pursue enhanced scientific cooperation. (NATO 2002b). 19. His full remarks were:

As regards our relationship with the alliance as a whole, as the alliance keeps transforming—and this is something that Mr President talked about recently—we do not rule out the possibility of deepening our relations with the alliance. Of course, in the case if the activities of the alliance are in accord with Russia’s national security interests. At least within the Group of 20, we are interacting, are cooperating in a very well way, in a very good way. (Bush and Putin 2002). A less sanguine interpretation of Putin’s acquiesce in NATO enlargement, in addition to or in contradiction to the argument that Russia now has a potentially more positive and mutually respectful relationship with NATO, is that the more allies there are in NATO the less potent it will be as a military alliance. Whether true or not, one US concern in the 1990s, before basic propositions about taking in new members had a chance to be tested, was that Russia would reverse course and urge NATO to be catholic with its invitations, thus potentially moving the Alliance more in the direction of the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, a long-standing Soviet and later Russian goal.

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REFERENCES Bush, George H.W. (1989): ‘A Europe Whole and Free’, speech to the citizens of Mainz, Federal Republic of Germany, 31 May, . Bush, George W. (2002): Interview by Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, Office of the White House Press Secretary, 18 November 2002, at . Bush, George W. and Vladimir Putin (2002):, Remarks By President Bush And RussianPresident Putin In Photo Opportunity, Catharine Palace, St Petersburg, Russia, 22 November 2002, Office of the White House Press Secretary, at . Clinton, William J. and Vladimir Putin (2000): Joint Statement By The Presidents Of The United States Of America And the Russian Federation On Principles Of Strategic Stability, The White House Office of the Press Secretary, 4 June 2000, at . Eliot, T.S. (1925): ‘The Hollow Men’, available at . Fukuyama, Francis (1992): The End of History and the Last Man, New York: Free Press. G8 (1999a): Excerpts of G8 Kosovo draft resolution, Cologne June 8, 1999, available at . G8 (1999b), Group Of Eight Cologne Summit Communiqué (Debt, Trade, Aid Initiatives Advanced), 20 June, available at . Hunter, Robert E. (1997): ‘Enlarging NATO: Reckless Or Requisite?’, U.S. Foreign Policy Agenda, 2/4, at . Hunter, Robert E. (1999a): ‘Maximizing NATO: A Relevant Alliance Knows How to Reach’, Foreign Affairs, 78/3, pp. 190–203. Hunter, Robert E. (1999b): Russia and the West after Kosovo, CSIS Corporate Briefing Series, 25 May, at . Hunter, Robert E. (2000): ‘Russia on the Eve: Solving Russia: Final Piece in NATO’s Puzzle’, The Washington Quarterly 23/1, pp. 115–34, available at . Hunter, Robert E., Sergey M.Rogov and Olga Oliker (2000): NATO and Russia, Bridge-Building for the 21st Century: Report of the Working Group on NATO-Russia Relations, Washington, DC: RAND, available at . NATO (1949): The North Atlantic Treaty, Washington D.C.—4 April 1949, available at . NATO (1997): Founding Act on Mutual Relations, Cooperation and Security between NATO and the Russian Federation, Paris, 27 May 1997, available at .

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NATO (2000a):, Major Milestones in NATO-Russia Relations: A Chronology of Important Events, available at . NATO (2000b): NATO Fact Sheets (2000): Russia-NATO Relations, available at . NATO (2000c): Statement: NATO-Russia Permanent Joint Council Meeting at [Defence] Ministerial level held in Brussels on 9 June 2000, available at . NATO (2000d): Statement: NATO-Russia Permanent Joint Council Meeting at [Foreign] Ministerial level held in Florence on 24 May 2000, available at . NATO (200la): Statement: NATO-Russia Permanent Joint Council Meeting at Defence Ministers Level Held in Brussels on 8 June 2001, available at . NATO (200 1b): Statement: NATO-Russia Permanent Joint Council Meeting at Ministerial Level Held in Budapest on 29 May 2001, available at . NATO (2002a): NATO Fact Sheets (2002): NATO-Russia relations, available at . NATO (2002b): NATO-Russia Relations: A New Quality: Declaration by Heads of State and Government of NATO Member States and the Russian Federation, available at . NATO (2002c): Press Statement by NATO Secretary General following the Meeting of NATO Defence Ministers with the Russian Minister Sergei Ivanov, available at . NATO (2002d): Statement by NATO Secretary General, Lord Robertson, in his Capacity as Chairman of the NATO-Russia Council at the NATO-Russia Council Meeting at the Level of Foreign Ministers, November 22, 2002, available at . NATO (2003): NATO-Russia Relations: A New Quality, NATO website, . US State Department (2002): Fact Sheet, Washington, DC: US Department of State, Bureau of European and Eurasian Affairs, available at .

Seismic Shifts in Eurasia: The Changing Relationship Between Turkey and Russia and its Implications for the South Caucasus FIONA HILL

INTRODUCTION May and June 2002 were the months of ‘Russian summits’—the US-Russia summit, which consolidated the steady progress made in relations since 2001, the Russia-NATO summit, which inaugurated a new Russia-NATO Council; the Russia-European Union (EU) summit, which gave the first acknowledgement of Russia’s status as a market economy; and the G8 summit, which saw Russia finally accepted as a member of the club of advanced economies after a decade of distinctly second-class status. Together, the series of summits consolidated the positive trajectory in US-Russian relations and thus in Russia’s relations with the West since the events of 11 September 2001. Disagreements over the war in Iraq aside, this improvement in US-Russian relations could ultimately have a transforming effect on the geopolitics of Eurasia and particularly of the South Caucasus, in part because it opens up the possibility of a new relationship between Russia and Turkey, America’s strategic ally in the region. After centuries of imperial competition, frequent wars and Cold War rivalry, a rapprochement and a pragmatic, stable economic and political partnership between Turkey and Russia in Eurasia would be tantamount to the reconciliation of France and Germany after the Second World War in Europe. It would change the nature of conflicts in the South Caucasus that have often been shaped by Russian and Turkish enmity. And it would open up prospects for economic development and integration in the Caucasus and elsewhere in Eurasia.1 SEISMIC SHIFTS FROM EUROPE TO THE MIDDLE EAST AND ASIA From the perspective of the United States and its European allies, the terrorist attacks on the United States on 11 September 2001 underscored how much the world has changed in the decade since the dissolution of the Soviet Union. In the

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1990s, while foreign policy strategists and western governments were preoccupied with the final shape of the post-Cold War European order, the major strategic dilemmas shifted from Europe to Asia. Today, they are concentrated in a broad zone stretching from the Middle East into Central Asia and South Asia, containing four nuclear states (Russia, China, Pakistan and India), one NATO member (Turkey), and significant hydrocarbon resources in the Middle East and the Caspian Basin. As a result of this shift, both Turkey and Russia are now at the heart of the current strategic dilemmas rather than at their periphery. In stark contrast to the past, today, Turkey’s and Russia’s strategic locations are beginning to bring them together rather than pushing them apart. For three centuries, Russia saw Turkey as blocking its approaches from the Black Sea to the Mediterranean and the world’s seaways. The two states vied with each other for military, political and economic influence in the Balkans and the Caucasus. Indeed, since the reign of Catherine the Great in the eighteenth century, Russia and Turkey have fought repeated wars for control of the territory around the Black Sea, culminating in the Russo-Turkish War of 1877–1878, which consolidated Russian gains in the Caucasus, but saw Russia pushed back from the Balkans by the intervention of the European Great Powers. During the Cold War, the USSR and Turkey confronted each other across the Caucasus. Turkey was the southern flank of NATO—the furthest bulwark of European security against the Soviet Union—and the government in Ankara greatly feared the extension of Communist influence into Turkey. In the immediate post-Cold War era, Russia, divested of its former imperial holdings with the dissolution of the USSR, came to view Turkey as a proxy for the United States in the Caucasus and Central Asia. Russia and Turkey found themselves in diametrically opposed camps in the 1990s on a number of crucial issues such as Bosnia, Kosovo and Chechnya—due to Turkey’s close historic association with the Turkic Muslim peoples of the region and the presence of significant Balkan and Caucasus Muslim diasporas on Turkish territory. Turkey’s position in NATO, and the threat of NATO enlargement beyond eastern Europe to the Caucasus, further rankled Russia. This all combined to produce a consistently tense bilateral relationship. Today, however, for the first time in several hundred years, Turkey and Russia have lost their direct border.2 Turkey has maintained its role as a bulwark for Europe, and Russia’s position has changed dramatically. It is has graduated from the status of the former Soviet enemy of Europe, and, like Turkey, become a bastion against instability in the Middle East and across Asia. Together, Turkey and Russia stand between Europe and conflict in the Middle East, the US confrontation with both Iran and Iraq, continued chaos in Afghanistan, the prospect of nuclear war in South Asia, the uncertain outcome of reform in China, and a nuclear North Korea. Turkey is the frontline state for Iran and Iraq and maintains ties with its Ottoman-era Arab colonies throughout the Middle East.

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Russia has extensive borders with Central Asia, China and North Korea. Both Turkey and Russia share borders with the South Caucasus. Russia has long-standing economic and political relations with Iraq and Iran, and a strategic partnership with India. Turkey and Russia both have a long history of relations with Afghanistan. The early Turkish republic after the First World War was instrumental in assisting the first political reforms in Afghanistan, and, in June 2002, Turkey stepped forward to assume command of the new international security force for Afghanistan (ISAF) for a six-month period. Russia’s engagement with Afghanistan was more troubled in the Soviet period, moving from economic and military assistance to invasion and protracted conflict. But, in sum, Russia and Turkey have a complex web of relationships in each of the regions that have been elevated in post-11 September American and European security priorities. THE CHANGING DYNAMIC OF TURKISH AND RUSSIAN FOREIGN POLICIES In the 1990s, the dynamic of both Turkish and Russian foreign policies shifted considerably. Russia gradually withdrew from its global military and political role to focus its foreign policy on the transformation of the former superpower relationship with the United States and its relationship with Europe, and on the development of relations with the other states immediately on its borders. Turkey’s foreign relations also changed, with an expansion of its focus beyond the strategic partnership with the United States, and the management of its volatile relationship with Greece, to increasingly strenuous efforts to become a member of the European Union. In the wake of the series of summits in May and June 2002, between Russia and the United States, Russia and NATO, Russia and the EU, and the G8, Turkey and Russia are increasingly on the same page. The sting has been taken out of the US-Russian relationship, as well as out of NATO enlargement, mitigating two of the factors that have complicated Russian-Turkish relations, and both Russia and Turkey find themselves in complex negotiations with the EU that have critical implications not only for the development of their economies but for their future political and cultural identities as European countries. Although, unlike Turkey, Russia does not have a customs union with the European Union, it is closely tied to Europe by virtue of its status as one of the primary energy suppliers to the European market. The EU currently imports more than 50 per cent of Russia’s total oil exports, which accounts for 16 per cent of EU oil consumption; and over 62 per cent of Russian gas exports, which in turn amounts to 20 per cent of the EU’s overall gas consumption.3 In 2001, Russia concluded an ambitious agreement with the European Union on long-term energy co-operation that would increase these exports. With the potential future enlargement of the EU

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to the east and countries like Poland, Russia is poised to become the major force in EU energy supply. The importance of the energy relationship with Europe cannot be underestimated. Oil and gas account for nearly a quarter of Russian GDP, about half of its export earnings, and around one third of government tax revenues (Gaddy and Hill 2002). But beyond issues of energy and trade, Russia and Turkey’s relationships with Europe have more political resonance and symbolism—will they eventually become accepted as part of Europe or will they forever remain on its fringes? In many respects Turkey and Russia have been grappling with this same question for the last 500 years, in which both have been respectively designated the Muslim, or Russian Orthodox and East Slavic ‘other’, the final frontiers for Europe to the south and east. Since the dissolution of the USSR, both Russia and Turkey have become members of the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), which has brought them together on a range of issues with European Union member states, as well as with each other, but relations with the EU itself have been fraught with difficulty. Turkey was declared a candidate country for EU accession at the Helsinki Summit in December 1999, having been initially rebuffed in 1997. But its prospects for accession remain clouded by, among other issues, difficulties in meeting the stringent political and economic criteria for entry, persistent tensions in the relationship with Greece, the continued division of Cyprus, which will become an EU member in May 2004, and cultural differences.4 For Russia, even candidacy is an unlikely prospect in the foreseeable future, and for many observers in Moscow, Turkey’s failure to become a member would make Russia’s relationship with the EU even more difficult, especially if the perceived cultural differences with Turkey prove insurmountable for Europeans.5 European political commentators have frequently expressed alarm at the idea of an EU border with Iraq, if Turkey were to become a member, or effectively with China, if Russia were brought into an association. Furthermore, prevailing Russian and Turkish views on the use of military force in internal conflicts, on human rights, and international law are quite similar, but are also both out of step with EU norms. If Turkey is unable to find an accommodation with the European Union on these issues, it may find itself drawn away from Europe and closer to Russia. In addition to Europe, Russia and Turkey have found common ground on other foreign policy issues, particularly in the Middle East. As a result of their respective geographical locations and strong mutual energy and trade interests with Iraq and Iran, Russia and Turkey have both tried to maintain economic relations with these two states in spite of pressure from the United States to sever ties. Turkey’s southeastern region of Adana remains heavily dependent on trade with Iraq, for example, while Ankara has foregone an estimated $30 billion in revenues due to the curtailing of Iraqi oil flows and US sanctions imposed on Baghdad since the

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Gulf War.6 Likewise, Russia is owed approximately $8 billion in outstanding Soviet-era debt by Baghdad. Its largest oil company, LUKoil, has also held preferential contracts for the refurbishment of Iraqi oilfields, which would have been worth several billion dollars had sanctions been lifted.7 Popular and elite opposition in both countries to the US-led war in Iraq ran high in early 2003, greatly complicating relations with the United States. Turkey and Russia were both concerned by the aftermath of the United States attack on Iraq and the removal of Saddam Hussein. Turkey feared the disintegration of Iraq and the creation of an independent Kurdish state in the country’s north, as well as the further disruption of cross-border trade and refugee flows. While Russia sought to head off a unilateral American campaign, and to ensure that its economic stakes in Iraq would not be completely negated by US action. Both states, as a result, found themselves standing together as anxious observers of US policy and activity in the Middle East before the outbreak of war. With Iran, Turkey and Russia have more complex relations. Both have strong trade interests in Iran—Turkey in purchasing Iranian gas and Russia in selling civilian nuclear technology and arms to Iran (which has brought Moscow into sharp disagreement with the United States)—but there is also a degree of rivalry. Russia has tended to see Iran as one of its most important strategic allies in the Middle East. It has welcomed Tehran’s support for Moscow’s position in the war in Chechnya, and Iran’s unwillingness to support any of the radical groups operating there or elsewhere in the Russian Federation. But differences have also emerged. Although Moscow and Tehran were initially in consensus on the division of the energy resources of the Caspian Sea in the early 1990s, they have since moved apart. Since 1999, Russia has pursued a series of bilateral agreements on demarcation with other littoral states, in spite of Iran’s strong preference for a multilateral agreement among all the states. This has caused friction in the relationship, and a feeling in Moscow that the two states may not always remain partners.8 Turkey and Iran already see themselves as political rivals in the region, and respectively as opposing secular and religious state models for the Muslim world. Ankara has been greatly concerned by evidence of Tehran’s support for marginal Islamic and terrorist groups in Turkey, which has cast a shadow over the more positive bilateral trade relationship (Karmon 1997). In addition, Turkey and Russia have moved toward increasingly close links with Israel since 1991. Turkey has forged a security alliance with Israel based on mutual concerns about Syria’s military intentions in the region, as well as both states’ strategic relationship with America. Moscow’s relations with Jerusalem have developed as a consequence of Jewish immigration from Russia to Israel. Since 1989, almost one million Jews have left the former Soviet Union for Israel. Native Russian-speakers now account for an estimated 15 per cent of Israel’s population, becoming an important cultural and political force in the state, as

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well as facilitating trade between the two countries.9 All three states, Turkey, Russia and Israel, share the same interest in containing radical Islamic movements that either originate in, or have links to, the Middle East. Although Russia’s relationship with Iran has provided some cause for alarm in Israel, Moscow has tended to push secular and moderate Sunni Muslim Turkish examples as models for relations between the state and religion in regions of the Russian Federation, such as Tatarstan, with large Islamic populations. Even previously contentious issues such as Chechnya and the Kurds have begun to retreat as major flash points in Russo-Turkish relations. During the first war in Chechnya, in 1994–1996, Chechen and other North Caucasus diaspora groups in Turkey, including Abkhaz and Cherkess, were active in their support for the Chechen cause. Groups raised money, engaged in demonstrations, and in some instances seized hostages to draw attention to the war—including a celebrated case in 1996 where a militant group seized a Turkish Black Sea ferry with a large number of Russian passengers on board and threatened to blow it up in the Bosporus.10 The Turkish government did not take particularly aggressive action in response. Likewise, Russia turned a blind eye to the activities of Kurdish associations with links to the PKK based in Moscow, which continued to operate with impunity (Nissman 1995). However, in 1999, in spite of rumors to the contrary, Russia did not provide sanctuary to PKK leader, Abdullah Ocalan, who was later captured by Turkey. And, since the beginning of the second round of war in Chechnya, Turkey’s response to the activities of Chechens on its soil has been markedly different. In contrast with the first war, Islamic groups in Turkey became the main source of support for the Chechen cause after 1999. Ankara’s fears of Islamic fundamentalism and of the radicalization of its own Islamic groups encouraged a major change in attitude. After a series of incidents, including the hijacking of a plane, and a raid on Istanbul’s Swisshotel in 2001 by some of the same people involved in the 1996 ferry episode, the Turkish government moved to curb the activities of militant groups. In the wake of the 11 September terrorist attacks, in January 2002, during a visit by Russian Chief of the General Staff, Anatoly Kvashnin, to Turkey, Moscow and Ankara concluded a military co-operation agreement that also involved an undertaking to prohibit the operations of terrorist organizations on their soil that could threaten the other.11 Kvashnin’s visit was a particularly significant event in Russo-Turkish relations. It was the first by a highly placed Russian military official to Turkey since the collapse of the USSR.12 Not long after this meeting, in light of persistent difficulties in negotiations between Turkey and the EU, one of Turkey’s most prominent Generals, Major General Tuncer Kilinc, the secretary of the National Security Council, remarked that Turkey should perhaps abandon its efforts to secure EU membership and seek out alternative alliances with other neighbors such as Russia or Iran (Matthews 2002). The comment underscored

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that fact that seismic shifts in Eurasian geopolitics, mutual interests, and mutual difficulties are gradually pushing Russia and Turkey together. FROM COMPETITION TO COOPERATION IN THE 1990S Calls for a closer relationship with Russia from a Turkish General would have seemed very much out of place a decade ago. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, the history of Russo-Turkish rivalry and ruinous war seemed to set the scene for an intense post-Cold War geopolitical competition between Turkey and Russia in Eurasia. The scene, however, did not play out quite as anticipated. After the independence of the South Caucasus and Central Asian states, neither Turkey nor Russia gained a great deal of new traction in the regions. Instead, increasing trade, tourism, and especially large-scale gas exports from Russia to Turkey, changed the nature of Turkish-Russian relations. In the 1990s, although the South Caucasus and Central Asia were placed relatively high on its foreign policy agenda, Turkey did not live up to expectations. Late Turkish President Turgut Ozal had a fairly clear vision for Turkey’s role in the regions as a model of secular Muslim political and economic development (Aral 2001). There was a great deal of anticipation in Turkey that the 1990s would be a new era for Turkish influence in Eurasia (Winrow 1995). And the idea that Turkey would come to the aid of its cultural brethren and help them to achieve post-Soviet modernization was widespread in Turkey itself, as well as in the South Caucasus and Central Asia. But, apart from a considerable increase in trade and communications, the creation of cultural programmes such as the funding of mosques, schools, scholarships for regional students to study in Turkey, and some military assistance to Azerbaijan and Central Asia, Turkey was unable to project itself as a major political influence in either the South Caucasus or Central Asia. Turkey’s soft power was never translated into hard power. In part, this was the result of the ethno-political conflicts in the South Caucasus, particularly in Nagorno-Karabakh, given the legacy of Turkey’s tragic history with Armenia and its historic support for, and cultural affinity with, Azerbaijan. But, in larger part, it was the result of Turkey’s financial weakness, its own preoccupation with internal political and economic problems and the demands of competing foreign policy priorities in Europe and the Middle East. In the course of the 1990s, Turkey became fixated on finally establishing its credentials as a Western state and becoming part of Europe and the EU. Politicians in Ankara gradually left the development of relations with Eurasia to marginal political groups, non-governmental organizations, and, most importantly, the business community.

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The same holds true for Russia. In spite of its strong historical ties and economic and political interdependencies with the regions from the Soviet era, Moscow saw its influence in the South Caucasus and Central Asia steadily decline. New inter-state political and economic arrangements that excluded Russia—such as the GUUAM group that brought together Georgia, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan and Moldova—became increasingly attractive to regional states.13 Russia’s influence faded through its own economic crises, and as trade between and among the South Caucasus, Central Asia, Iran, Turkey and Ukraine increased, along with US and other Western regional investment. Russia’s strategic communication routes with the South Caucasus were cut off by regional conflicts and Russia’s own dubious role in these conflicts soured its relations with the states even further. In the early-mid 1990s, Russia often intervened in Caucasus conflicts in such a way as to promote their escalation and/or continuation instead of resolution. As a result, Russia compromised its position as a political honest broker. In Georgia and Azerbaijan, in particular, Russia came to be viewed as an overbearing and volatile neighbor to build firewalls against by forging strategic alliances with the United States and other regional powers. By the end of the 1990s, only Tajikistan and Armenia remained dependent on Russia and then primarily out of desperation, faced by economic deprivation, political instability and perceived threats from immediate neighbours. And, again, like Turkey, Russia was diverted from the region by competing foreign policy priorities, also in Europe, but, moreso in defining its post-Cold War relationship with the United States. Russia’s weakening influence in Eurasia in the 1990s and Turkey’s inability to fill the vacuum had a discernible effect on inter-state relations in the South Caucasus and Central Asia. The growing interest and investment of US and international energy companies in the rich oil and gas deposits of the Caspian Basin, the thrust of US policy toward pipelines and energy security, declarations by Georgia and Azerbaijan that they intended to join NATO, and increasing military-military ties between the United States and Central Asia, all led to sharp differences between Russia and the United States. In addition, Russia, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan and Iran squabbled continuously over dividing the spoils of the Caspian Sea, with Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan periodically attempting to play Russia, Iran, Turkey and the United States off against each other to gain advantage. For most of the decade, Russia tried to preserve the old Soviet-era legal regime for the Caspian, which would have precluded the division of its sub-sea resources. It also fiercely resisted US plans to break its pipeline monopoly and to transport Caspian oil across the Caucasus to Turkey. Regional rivalries served to divide states into camps, with Russia, Armenia and Iran firmly on one side, the US, Turkey, Azerbaijan and sometimes Georgia, on the other, and the other states manoeuvring in between.

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However, at the same time that this geopolitical competition raged around Caspian oil, the bilateral relationship between Russia and Turkey developed apace in a surprisingly pragmatic fashion—in large part thanks to gas, which became the primary element and driving force in Russian-Turkish relations. Indeed, one might even describe gas as the transforming force in the bilateral relationship. Disputes over oil may have divided regional states, but agreements on gas served to bind Russia and Turkey together. GAS AS A TRANSFORMING FORCE IN BILATERAL RELATIONS Although the Caspian was touted in the 1990s as a new global source of oil, its future is also in gas. The bulk of reserves are in Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, with some significant new finds in Azerbaijan, which are already destined for export to Turkey. But it is Russia that is the dominant player in gas. Russia has the world’s largest gas reserves—about one third of total world supply. Most of Russian gas is concentrated in Siberia rather than in the Caspian, but Russia also enjoys considerable control over Central Asian gas production and exports. All existing gas export pipelines run through Russia, and international energy companies have failed to make the same inroads into Central Asian gas production as they have in Caspian oil.14 Along with Eastern Europe and the European Union, Turkey is Russia’s major market for gas, purchasing more than 10 billion cubic meters of gas a year. Seventy per cent of Turkey’s gas imports come from Russia (US Energy Information Administration 2001). Russia’s gas monopoly Gazprom has concluded deals to supply Turkey with natural gas that extend well into the next two decades. In addition to the extremely ambitious Blue Stream pipeline and gas export project across the Black Sea,15 some of the largest energy business deals in Russia have been signed with Turkey, including a $13.5 billion deal in 1997 between Gazprom and the Turkish government to construct gas pipelines and carry out equipment upgrades (Shermatova 1997). In recent years, Russia and Turkey have also discussed constructing gas pipelines from Russia through Georgia and Armenia to the Turkish market, building a pipeline under the Mediterranean to Haifa in Israel, which would capitalize on Turkey’s strategic partnership with Israel in the Middle East, constructing a Middle East gas loop stretching to the Gulf of Oman, and building additional pipelines from Turkey to Greece to offer more routes for Russian gas to the Balkans and then the rest of Europe (Haddadin 1999). In each of these cases, Turkey and Russia have a clear shared interest—Turkey in purchasing energy and levying transit fees, and Russia in exporting its gas and earning hard currency from the energy sales. Russia would also have control over the supply and a direct stake in the transportation routes in the projects. This

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shared interest in gas exports has opened up some interesting possibilities for the future. Russia is beginning to see Turkey as a partner in its energy development rather than simply as an export market, or as a source of competition in the Caspian Basin. In October 2000, for example, during a visit to Ankara to discuss Russian gas sales to Turkey, Russian Prime Minister Mikhail Kasianov noted that ‘Russia and Turkey are not rivals but partners, and our governments will from now on proceed from this understanding’ (Freedman 2002:9). In fact, in the 1990s, Turkey became one of Russia’s most important overall trading partners, with total annual trade amounting to $10–12 billion (ibid.). Turkish construction companies, such as Enka, have concluded multi-billion dollar contracts in Russia, including undertaking a number of high-profile projects in Moscow such as the refurbishment of the ‘White House’—the former building of the Russian parliament and now the home of the Russian government—which was severely damaged during President Yeltsin’s military standoff with the parliament in 1993 (Planck 1998). Russian shuttle traders flocked to Turkey to purchase goods for resale at home, pushing the numbers of special charter flights between Moscow and Istanbul to an average of 40–50 per week in the mid-1990s. (Freedman 2002:11) And tourists from Russia have made Turkey their preferred vacation destination, with Russians dominating resorts such as Antalya on Turkey’s Mediterranean coast.16 Although the total volume of Russian-Turkish trade fell off sharply as a result of the 1998 Russian financial crisis and repeated financial crises in Turkey in 1999–2001, the overall trend in trade since the collapse of the USSR has been extremely positive. Indeed, tourism and trade have fostered a set of human contacts, close connections and alternative means of communication between entrepreneurs, local politicians and diplomats in both countries. With a patient and pragmatic approach, the Turkish business community built up an equity stake in Russia in the 1990s that is now being mirrored by Russian energy companies such as Gazprom and LUKoil in Turkey. All of this activity and these mutual stakes have created a popular base for further progress in political relations. TRANSFORMING THE SOUTH CAUCASUS While Russia and Turkey themselves clearly have much to gain from their evolving economic and political relations, the South Caucasus, in particular, seems most likely to benefit from the development of a Russo-Turkish partnership in Eurasia. Independence has not been kind to the countries of the South Caucasus. The transition from the Soviet command economy and authoritarian political system has been much more complex and difficult than anticipated, and progress in market reforms, institutional development and democratic reform has been limited. Attempts at macro-economic reform have led to economic stabilization

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but, in the process, extensive borrowing from international financial institutions has also saddled the states with high debt burdens. Intractable ethnic conflicts in Nagorno-Karabakh, Abkhazia and South Ossetia, as well as across the Russian border in Chechnya, threaten further progress. Over the course of the 1990s there has been a massive exodus of highly skilled members of the population from the South Caucasus. Expert estimates suggest, for example, that more than one million people may have left Armenia alone— in effect de-populating what was one of the most advanced republics in the USSR and stripping it of the human resources vital to its economic recovery. Not only does Armenia lack a natural resource base, but it has seen the collapse of its once significant manufacturing sector, and has been bypassed in regional transportation and pipeline projects to Turkey as a result of the conflict with Azerbaijan. The country is now dependent on international assistance and the support of its diaspora population in Russia and the West. Indeed, remittances from diaspora and migrant populations are crucial to all three South Caucasus economies. The annual income of an estimated one million Azerbaijani migrants in Russia, for example, ranges between $700 million and $1 billion according to different estimates from international financial institutions,17 while more than 500,000 Georgian workers in Russia are thought to produce about one quarter of the country’s GDP (Baran 2001). The loss of human resources in the region through out-migration and persistent dependencies on Russia for temporary and migrant employment and remittances, have all skewed development. Russia also serves as the main market for South Caucasus goods, primarily foodstuffs, especially as other international markets remain closed thanks to political instability in the region and a dearth of transit routes, as well as trade tariffs. Turkey’s new importance as a commercial partner to Russia, its trade potential and its economic links to Europe are significant factors for the South Caucasus. Like Russia, Turkey has become a window to Europe and the United States for the South Caucasus, and Istanbul is now a transportation hub for the region. Turkey has diaspora as well as linguistic links with the Caucasus and there has been no perceptible backlash to date to the influx of Russian-speakers from the region into Istanbul and other Turkish cities. Turkish merchants and tour operators have, in fact, moved quickly to accommodate the newcomers with Cyrillic signs, while Azeris can communicate freely within Turkey in their own language. Turkish trade with the region increased considerably in the 1990s in parallel with the rapid development of Turkey’s trade with Russia. In spite of the absence of diplomatic relations, tentative economic relations between Armenia and Turkey also developed after the 1994 ceasefire in Nagorno-Karabakh. These have been facilitated by flights between Istanbul and Yerevan, and the establishment of non-governmental organizations to foster relations, such as the Turkish-Armenian Business Development Council, which

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was set up in 1997 to create trade links between Armenian businesses, the Armenian diaspora and Turkish businesses in Anatolia (TABDC 2002). However, for Armenia, the closure of its land border with Turkey as a result of the conflict over Nagorno-Karabakh has proven to be one of the most significant obstacles to its economic development, costing the country an estimated $62 million annually in blocked exports, and leaving it dependent on tenuous lines of communication through Iran and Georgia (Friend 2000). Opening the Armenian-Turkish border would have a profound effect not only on Armenia but on the rest of the Caucasus, where the full development of regional economies has been stymied by the ongoing conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan and the stalemate in Armenian-Turkish relations. Open borders between the South Caucasus and Turkey will provide additional transportation and communication linkages to the West as well as to the Middle East. It will also pave the way for realizing promising economic prospects in Caucasus tourism and freight forwarding from Central Asia and the Caspian to the Black Sea and Europe, as well as from Russia to Turkey and Iran. During the Soviet period, the three South Caucasus republics were major tourist destinations within the USSR, with millions of visitors annually. Tourism was a major factor in regional economies, but dropped off sharply after independence as a result of the violent conflicts and border closures, with the sharpest decreases in Armenia, and little subsequent revival. The World Bank and a number of other international institutions operating in the region have initiated a series of programmes to revitalize the sector.18 Many regional groups anticipate being able to tie these programmes to the already booming tourist industry in Turkey, given the prospective ease of travel between Turkey and the Caucasus and the similarities in topography and climate. In Turkey, the tourist industry is one of the country’s most important sectors, earning it $12.5 billion in revenues in 2001 (roughly equivalent to 6 per cent of 2001 GDP).19 The stalemate in Armenian-Turkish relations remains one of the most significant obstacles to moving forward. But the gradual development in Russo-Turkish relations, combined with the recent improvement in US-Russian relations, has created some space for a new dialogue between Turkey and Armenia. Ironically, so has the lifting, in early 2002, of the restrictions on US-Azeri relations and co-operation under the Section 907 amendment to the 1993 Freedom Support Act. These restrictions were imposed by the US Congress against Azerbaijan in response to its blockade of Armenia in the early stages of the war in Nagorno-Karabakh and precluded the implementation in Azerbaijan of a range of US government programmes, including military assistance, otherwise offered to former Soviet states under the terms of the Act. The US government responded to the congressional amendment by foregoing military co-operation with both Azerbaijan and Armenia. The two countries’ support for

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the American campaign in Afghanistan and the war against terrorism, after September 2001, paved the way for lifting these restrictions, and the initiation of US military co-operation with Armenia and Azerbaijan. In addition, their support for the American campaign also effectively made Armenia, Azerbaijan, Russia and Turkey all part of the same—albeit loose—coalition with the United States for the very first time. The fact that Turkey and the US, on the one hand, and Russia on the other, are no longer seen to be in opposing camps after 11 September has transformed the South Caucasus from an object of competition among the three powers to a potential arena for mutual contact and cooperation. In response, Turkey has pushed to improve relations with Armenia.20 In summer 2002, there were several significant developments, including a meeting between Armenian Foreign Minister Vartan Oskanian and Turkish Foreign Minister Ismail Cem at a summit of the leaders of the member countries of the Black Sea Economic Cooperation organization in Istanbul (Gorvett 2002). Rumours circulated in the Caucasus on the initiation of secret talks between the two states.21 And, on 26 June 2002, the Armenian Foreign Minister formally announced that Armenia sought a dialogue with Turkey that could lead to full diplomatic relations.22 CLOUDS ON THE EURASIAN HORIZON In spite of these positive developments since 11 September, clouds remain on the Eurasian horizon. There are obstacles to a more rapid development of Russo-Turkish relations beyond the bilateral relationship. While Russia is moving forward in building ties with the United States and Europe, Turkey is becoming increasingly bogged down in a confluence of internal and external problems. Turkey’s economy is still in crisis following the financial collapse of 2001, and the challenges of implementing domestic restructuring under the conditions of its new IMF reform programme are immense. In addition, the increasing ill-health of Prime Minister Bulent Ecevit, a weak coalition government, and an unreformed political party system all led to early elections in November 2002. The elections brought in a new and untested government led by the AK (Justice and Development) Party and Recep Tayyip Erdogan, the former Mayor of Istanbul, who was designated as Prime Minister in March 2003.23 The ouster of seasoned (although unpopular) political elites, at a time of intense pressure on Turkey by the United States to provide support for its attack on Iraq, cast an additional pall of uncertainty over the Turkish political scene. Overall, Turkey’s external international environment is highly unpredictable. This threatens to distract the state from domestic reform, if not overwhelm it entirely. A crisis with Europe over Cyprus has loomed for some time, as the division of the island persists in spite of intense efforts by the United Nations to

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broker a compromise arrangement between the Greek and Turkish sides in early 2003,24 The European Union is now poised to accept the Greek Republic of Cyprus as a member—to the evident disadvantage of the Turkish population of the island. Cyprus is a national issue for Turkey and any development in Brussels that is seen to threaten the status of Turkish Cypriots will lead to a popular backlash, undermining Turkey’s already tense relationship with the EU. Turkish officials fear that a clash with the EU over Cyprus could derail Turkey’s economic reform programme and the progress Turkey has made so far in meeting the criteria for EU accession.25 Not least, the US invasion of Iraq and the overthrow of Saddam Hussein’s regime cast a shadow over every other issue for Turkey. Senior officials in Ankara still fear that a crisis in Iraq could lead to complete political destabilization given the range of other issues Turkey has to deal with.26 In the South Caucasus, residual suspicion lingers between Turkey and Russia. The long history of rivalry cannot be quickly erased—nor can the other stains of the past. Turkey and Russia are still at odds over issues such as the construction of the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan pipeline for Caspian oil, and Turkish objections over the increased passage of Russian oil tankers through the Bosporus. And, in October 2002, Chechnya re-emerged as a point of contention after Chechen terrorists seized hundreds of hostages in a theatre in Moscow and were reported by the Russian Interfax news agency to be in contact with ‘accomplices’ outside the Russian Federation, including in Turkey. Russian officials also complained about the press coverage of the hostage crisis in Turkey, which they saw as unduly sympathetic to the Chechens and critical of the Russian government.27 If bilateral relations are to progress, this and other sensitive issues will have to be handled carefully by both Turkey and Russia. In addition, the Armenian diaspora in Europe and the United States remains resistant to Armenia’s rapprochement with Turkey—absent an acknowledgement of responsibility for the terrible events of 1915, and an explicit admission of genocide, which Turkey refuses to entertain. This is compounded by the fact that Turkey’s ally in the South Caucasus, Azerbaijan, has serious reservations about a new relationship between Armenia and Turkey and its implications for Baku. A substantial portion of Azerbaijani territory is still under Armenian occupation after a major military offensive in the war over Nagorno-Karabakh in 1993. Unlike in Armenia, where refugees from the war over Nagorno-Karabakh have often left the Caucasus for Russia, in Azerbaijan the population was internally displaced and has been stuck in temporary camps and shelters for a decade. Internally Displaced People (IDPs) in Azerbaijan form a disaffected political force that is an obstacle to improved relations with Armenia.28 Although Turkey has consistently stressed that any progress in its own relationship with Armenia is contingent on an Armenian withdrawal from the occupied territories, Azerbaijan fears that the desire to secure a diplomatic

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breakthrough in Ankara will eventually outweigh these considerations. As one proposal for moving forward, Baku has pushed for an Armenian withdrawal from four of the occupied territories that would be immediately reciprocated by the simultaneous re-opening of both the Turkey-Armenia border and the Baku-Nakhichevan-Yerevan railway line. This would restore the pre-conflict network of communications among Azerbaijan, Iran, Armenia and Turkey. The synchronicity of the proposal, however, would clearly be ruptured by a bilateral Turkish-Armenian move to open their border.29 From the point of view of Baku, as well as of the Armenian diaspora in Europe and the United States, Ankara’s negotiations with Yerevan are a trilateral if not quadrilateral affair, and not a bilateral matter. Azerbaijan is also a potential source of friction in Turkey’s relations with Russia in the event of a succession crisis after the death of Azerbaijan’s elderly President, Heydar Aliyev. Turkey has, in the past, tried to play a direct role in Azerbaijani politics, while, one of Azerbaijan’s opposition leaders, former Communist leader and first Azeri President, Ayaz Mutalibov has been in exile in Moscow for several years and has been seen as one of Moscow’s ‘candidates’ for the Azeri succession (Cornell 2001). In addition, Vagit Alekperov, the influential head of Russia’s giant oil company, LUKoil, is an ethnic Azeri with roots and substantial contacts in Baku and has occasionally been touted in the Russian press as another possible contender for Azerbaijan’s presidency (Jack 2001). Both Turkey and Russia will have to tread cautiously in their response to this eventuality to prevent damage to their bilateral relationship as well as to their individual relations with Azerbaijan. There is a precedent, however, for Russian-Turkish co-operation in Azerbaijan in a recent incident in the Caspian Sea. In July 2001, an Iranian gunboat forced a British Petroleum oil exploration vessel to retreat from waters claimed by Azerbaijan but disputed by Iran. This was followed by Iranian warplane incursions into Azerbaijani airspace in August 2001 (Lelyveld 2001). Turkey responded forcefully to the Iranian action with diplomatic complaints as well as arranging a symbolic over-flight of Turkish warplanes over Azerbaijan. Russia’s response was more cautious and less demonstrative, but Moscow also signalled its support for Azerbaijan’s claim and its displeasure with Iran’s show of force during an August 2001 summit with other regional leaders in the southern Russian city of Sochi (Dubnov 2001). After a decade of rivalry in Azerbaijan, Turkey and Russia were seen, for the first time, to be on ‘the same side’. Beyond Armenia and Azerbaijan, instability in Georgia and extremely poor relations between Georgia and Russia pose perhaps one of the most serious problems for Turkey-Russia bilateral relations. The increasing unpopularity of Georgian President Eduard Shevardnadze, social unrest, entrenched corruption, increasing criminality, the spill-over of fighters and refugees from Chechnya, armed clashes between militant groups and the threat of the possible resumption

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of war in Abkhazia all make the future of Georgia extremely unpredictable. Although in April 2002, the introduction of US military trainers to strengthen the capacity of the Georgian military gave a boost to the Georgian government and improved the country’s general security,30 by September 2002 Russia-Georgia relations had deteriorated dramatically over the presence of Chechen forces in Georgia’s Pankisi Gorge. Following a tense period of mutual recriminations, covert Russian bombing raids inside the Gorge and Russian threats to send troops into Georgia, the Georgian government launched its own operation in the Pankisi Gorge. A number of Chechens, and Arab militants with reported links to Al Qaeda, were rounded up and handed over to Russia and the United States respectively.31 This operation and a Russo-Georgian agreement to carry out joint border patrols were seen, however, as only temporary solutions to the festering problems in relations extending well outside Pankisi. Russia and Georgia continue to be at odds over Abkhazia. Having played a significant role in the initial secession of Abkhazia, Russian forces continue to man the cease-fire and demarcation line with Georgia in the disputed Gali region. Russia also remains Abkhazia’s only link with the outside world and the secessionist republic’s economy depends heavily on its ties to Russia. The Russian rouble is the republic’s official currency and, in summer 2002, Moscow also issued passports to Abkhazian residents in place of their expired Soviet-era travel documents. Ethnic Abkhazians, Armenians, Greeks, Russians and others living on Abkhazian territory became citizens of the Russian Federation—turning the secessionist region’s de facto dependence on Russia into a quasi-de jure status. Around 70 per cent of the Abkhazian population has now assumed Russian citizenship and Tbilisi has sharply protested Moscow’s intervention (Khashig 2002). These developments greatly complicate Russia-Georgia relations as well as efforts to find a solution to the conflict between Abkhazia and Georgia. With both Abkhazian and Georgian diasporas on its territory, Turkey is watching events unfold with some anxiety. While there is every reason for anxiety, especially in the wake of the series of tumultuous events in Turkey and the Caucasus in summer 2002 and concerns over the US war in Iraq in 2003, the trajectory of the last ten years gives greater grounds for optimism in the future. The expansion of economic, commercial and personal connections between Russia and Turkey, the changing dynamic of Turkish and Russian foreign policies, and shifts in regional security priorities after the events of 11 September 2001, all point toward continued improvement in Turkish-Russian relations. In sum, in spite of the persistent problems, the prospect of a partnership between Turkey and Russia over the long term appears as a bright spot on what has tended to be the rather gloomy horizon of Eurasia since the collapse of the Soviet Union.

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NOTES 1. The general conclusions of this article are drawn on the basis of interviews conducted by the author with Russian officials in Moscow in February 2002, and Turkish officials in Istanbul and Ankara in May 2002. 2. Russian border guards do technically still man the frontier between Armenia and Turkey. 3. This increases to 24 per cent of Europe’s gas consumption if non-EU members are factored in. See ‘EU/Russia Energy Dialogue: An Overview’, 1 June 2001, . 4. For a detailed discussion of Turkey’s relations with the EU, see Erdogdu 2002. 5. Interview with Russian official in Moscow, 5 February 2002. 6. Interviews with Turkish officials in Ankara, 16–17 May 2002. 7. See ‘Russian Energy Minister in Baghdad’, RFE/RL Newsline: Iraq Report, 2 February 2, 2001. Iraq abruptly canceled LUKoil’s contracts in December 2002 in apparent protest at Russia’s support for UN resolutions against Iraq. The Iraqi government later offered contracts to other Russian energy companies (see ‘Russia Strikes Iraq Oil Deal’, , BBC News, 17 January, 2003, at . 8. Interview with Russian official in Moscow, 5 February 2002. 9. See Jason Keyser, ‘A Decade Later, Russian Jews and Israel have Profoundly Changed Each Other’, Associated Press, 15 December 2001. 10. For a review of these incidents see ‘Hostage-taking Action by Pro-Chechen Rebels Impairs Turkey’s Image’, China People’s Daily, 24 April 2001, . During the first war in Chechnya, Turks tended, erroneously, to regard Chechens as ethnically Turkish, which bolstered general popular sympathy for their cause. 11. TUSIAD-US, Selected News on Turkey, 14–20 January 2002. 12. See ‘Russian Chief of General Staff Ends Visit to Turkey’, RFE/RL Newsline, 17 January 2002. 13. Uzbekistan announced in 2002 that it would withdraw from full membership in GUUAM and only participate in the group’s activities on a case-by-case basis. 14. For a detailed discussion of Central Asian energy issues, see the Energy Information Administration country analysis briefs at . 15. The Blue Stream project was first announced in 1996 as a joint venture between the Russian gas monopoly, Gazprom, and the Italian energy company, ENI, to bring Russian gas 1,400 km by pipeline across the Black Sea. After a series of crucial inter-governmental agreements in 1999, the project secured sufficient funding to move ahead with construction in 2000. The final stages of the pipeline under the Black Sea were completed in October 2002, well behind the original construction schedule. The project remains one of the most ambitious in the region—Blue Stream is the world’s deepest underwater pipeline, hitting an unprecedented depth of 2,150 m. See Lelyveld 2002.

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16. ‘Russian Tourists Prefer Turkey’, Turkish Press Review, 13 August 2001, citing a 13– 22 July 2001 poll in the Russian newspaper, Moskovski Komsomolets, in which Turkey gained 36.76 per cent of preferred responses, followed by Spain with 22.89 per cent. 17. Bilik Dunyasi news agency, Baku, in Russian, 4 June 2001, extract reprinted in English in ‘Azeri Migrants in Russia Generate over 700mn dollars per year’, BBC Monitoring Service, Trans-Caucasus Unit, Azeri-Russia-Economy, 4 June 2001. 18. Information on World Bank regional initiatives in the South Caucasus is available on the Bank’s website at . 19. Interview with the Secretary General of the Banks Association of Turkey in Istanbul, 14 May 2002. 20. Interviews with Turkish Foreign Ministry officials and representatives of parliament in Ankara, 16–17 May 2002. 21. ‘Azeri Paper Says Secret Turkish-Armenian Talks Under Way’, BBC Monitoring Service, Trans-Caucasus Unit, 12 June 2002, citing Ekho, Baku, in Russian, 12 June 2002. 22. TUSIAD-US, “Armenia Asks for Improved Relations with Turkey’. Selected News on Turkey, 24–30 June 2002. 23. Erdogan, the AK party chairman, was unable to run in the November general elections because of a conviction for inciting religious hatred. He had to wait for the Turkish parliament to amend the constitution to allow him to stand for election in 2003. 24. In March 2003, talks led by UN General Secretary Kofi Annan to hold a referendum on a UN-sponsored plan to reunify the island were declared a failure when the Turkish Cypriot leadership balked at the concessions they would have to make regarding land and population movements. See ‘Cyprus Talks End in Failure’, Turkishpress.com Daily News, 11 March 2003 (from Anadolu press agency). 25. In October 2002, the European Union’s evident reluctance to offer Turkey a date for the beginning of accession talks at the December 2002 Copenhagen Summit was seen as a further blow to Turkey-EU relations and the progress of reforms. See, for example, ‘Turkey Again Disappointed By The EU’, Turkishpress.com Daily News, 31 October 2002 (summarizing a column by Derya Sazak in Milliyet). At the Copenhagen Summit, the EU agreed that if Turkey was able to meet the criteria for entry by the time of an EU Council meeting in December 2004, then negotiations could begin at that juncture to set a date for accession. 26. Interviews with Turkish business leaders and government officials in May 2002. 27. See ‘Turkey Seeks to Heal Russia Ties in Chechen Row,’ Reuters, 30 October 2002. 28. The United Nations High Commission for Refugees estimates that there are still more than 573,000 IDPs in Azerbaijan. See UNHCR 2002. 29. Interviews with Azeri diplomats in Washington, DC, June 2002. 30. ‘U.S Advisors Prepare to Help Train Georgian Military in Counter-Terrorism Operations’, 21 May 2002, Eurasianet.org, .

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31. ‘Georgia Extradites 5 Suspected Chechen Militants, Associated Press, 4 October 2002; “Russia, Georgia Agree to Patrol Border Together’, Associated Press, 7 October 2002; Baker, 2002.

REFERENCES Aral, Berdal (2001): ‘Dispensing with Tradition? Turkish Politics and International Society During the Ozal Decade, 1983–1993’, Middle Eastern Studies 37/1, pp. 72–88. Baker, Peter (2002): ‘15 Tied to Al Qaeda Turned Over to U.S.’, Washington Post, 22 October 2002, p. A17. Baran, Zeyno (2001): Georgia Update, 10 January, Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies. Cornell, Svante (2001): ‘Democracy Falters in Azerbaijan’, Journal of Democracy 12/2, pp. 118–31. Dubnov, Arkady (2001): ‘Tehran Guns for Caspian Oil’, Institute for War and Peace Reporting, CRS Number 95, 24 August, available at: . Erdogdu, Erkan (2002): ‘Turkey and Europe: Undivided but not United’, Middle East Review of International Affairs 6/2, pp. 40–51. Freedman, Robert (2002), ‘Putin and the Middle East’, Middle East Review of International Affairs 6/2, pp. 1–16. Friend, Janin (2000): ‘Abandoning a Sinking Country’, Business Week, 30 October, p. 4. Gaddy, Clifford and Fiona Hill (2002): Putin’s Agenda, America’s Choice, Brookings Institution Policy Brief No. 99, April 2002. Gorvett, Jon (2002): ‘Armenia, Turkey Move Cautiously Towards Rapprochment at Istanbul Meeting’, Eurasia Insight, 28 June. Haddadin, Haitham (1999): ‘United States, Turkey Try to Speed Baku-Ceyhan Pipeline’, Journal of Commerce, 23 April. Jack, Andrew (2001): ‘A Better Class of Baron’, Financial Times, 1 December, p. 11. Karmon, Ely (1997): ‘Radical Islamic Political Groups in Turkey’, Middle East Review of International Affairs, 1/4, . Keyser, Jason (2001): ‘A Decade Later, Russian Jews and Israel have Profoundly Changed Each Other,” Associated Press, December 15. Khashig, Inal (2002): ‘Abkhaz Snap up Russian Passports’, Moscow Times, 1 July 2002, p. 1. Lelyveld, Michael (2001): ‘Iran: Hurdles Remain In Improving Ties With Azerbaijan’, RFE/RL Newsline, 21 August. Lelyveld, Michael (2002): ‘Russia: Blue Stream Pipeline A Technological Feat, But an Economic Misadventure’, RFE/RL, 23 October. Matthews, Owen( 2002): ‘Europe’s Orphan: A Showdown is Brewing Between Turkey and the EU’, Newsweek International, 22 April, p. 22.

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Nissman, David (1995): ‘Competition for Pipeline Route Heats Up’, Caspian Crossroads Magazine, 1/1, . Planck, Nina (1998): ‘Builders of a New Russia: Turkish Firms are Quietly Winning Scores of Big Contracts in the Former Soviet Union’, Time Magazine, 15 June, p. 16. Shermatova, Sanobar (1997): ‘Gas Brings Turkey and Russia Closer’, Moscow News, 25 December, p. 6. TABDC (2002), Turkish-Armenian Business Development Council Celebrates Fifth Anniversary, Press Release, 3 May, available at . US Energy Information Administration (2001): ‘Turkey Country Report’, available at . UNHCR, Basic Facts, ‘Refugees by Numbers 2002 Edition: Estimates of Major Populations of IDPs of Concern to UNHCR’, available at . Winrow, Gareth (1995): Turkey in Post-Soviet Central Asia, London: Royal Institute of International Affairs.

Note Added in Proof This article was first produced in July 2002 and revised in March 2003 just before the outbreak of war in Iraq. The war in Iraq had a significant impact on relations between and among some of the major players, including the United States, Turkey and Russia. It triggered, in particular, a period of debate in both Washington, DC and Ankara about the future of the US-Turkish strategic partnership. Subsequent events in the South Caucasus also introduced new considerations. In summer 2003, President Aliev of Azerbaijan’s health failed dramatically, prompting the sudden elevation of his son, Ilham, first to the post of prime minister and then to acting president to position him and the ruling party for presidential elections in October 2003. Georgia was plunged into further political turmoil with a contentious political campaign surrounding parliamentary elections in November 2003. An escalation in violence along the cease-fire line between Armenia and Azerbaijan, in the same period, also raised the spectre of renewed conflict over Nagorno-Karabakh even as the new Turkish government continued talks with Armenia about normalization of relations. Although these and other developments offer additional nuances for consideration, the central argument of the piece still stands. Major changes in the international system over the last decade have presented a real opportunity to effect a fundamental improvement in Turkish-Russian relations and thus a more positive political dynamic in Eurasia.

The Economics and Politics of Caspian Oil ANDREAS ANDRIANOPOULOS

The collapse of communism triggered a radical reappraisal of the political importance of the various regions that constituted the Soviet empire. New countries emerged and gradually became important regional actors. Among the regions that acquired new economic and political significance are those parts of the south Caucasus and south Asia bordering the Caspian Sea. The importance of the Caspian Sea region derives principally from its being the depository of large oil and gas reserves that are only now beginning to be fully developed. Developing these resources and getting them to world markets has given rise to increased competition among oil companies, regional countries and key international actors. The question of Caspian oil has evolved into an issue of important geopolitical proportions. It is no longer about commercial interests. Economics have been replaced by political considerations. It is the thesis of this article that the current debate on the size of oil reserves of the Caspian region and pipeline routes has been guided by competing geopolitical concerns that tend to overlook market needs and economic realities. CASPIAN OIL ECONOMICS Final estimates of Caspian region reserves do not correspond to initial predictions of a ‘new Persian Gulf’. They nevertheless constitute a substantial hub for world energy security. Current estimates of proven oil reserves in the Caspian basin have been modestly lowered to between 70 bbl (Wood Mackenzie consultancy), 90 bbl (US Department of Commerce former special advisor Jan Kalicki at the DC Bar Association in 1998) and 100 billion barrels (Baker Institute, State Oil Company of Azerbaijan). Most of Azerbaijan’s oil resources (proven as well as possible reserves) are located offshore, and perhaps 30–40 per cent of the total oil resources of Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan are offshore as well. It appears that at the time of writing (October 2002) the most objective estimates about total proven oil reserves for the entire Caspian Sea region (sea and overland areas) must approach

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18–34 bbl, comparable to those in the United States (22 bbl) and the North Sea (17 bbl). There are analysts, influenced by recent ambitious finds in Kazakhstan, who insist that those reserves are in the area of 68bbl. It remains to be seen whether those estimates are finally accurate. Caspian oil can in the long run represent about four per cent of global production. Its direct significance for US energy security, however, is not crucial. The United States relies on direct sales from the Gulf states for six to seven per cent of its total oil consumption. By 2010, it is estimated that this figure might be further reduced! It is therefore improbable that oil from the Caspian Sea would become indispensable for the US market at any time in the foreseeable future. It will be, however, important for other countries currently dependent on Persian Gulf oil. Caspian oil will help ease the West’s dependence on OPEC. The Caspian could very soon represent three per cent of global oil output and five per cent of non-OPEC oil production. It is therefore easy to assume that Caspian oil, although not directly important to US oil security, may shortly relieve the pressure that other oil-consuming clients may, in a case of oil shortages or during an emergency, exercise upon the sources (Atlantic coast oil-producing countries) that the US relies on directly for its own energy supplies. THE SHAKY PIPELINE DREAMS The considerably high costs of oil production in the Caspian on-and offshore fields (archaic soviet infrastructure and need for new equipment, difficulties in transporting heavy machinery and semi-submersible rigs to the area by means of hazardous Russian waterways, expensive refining of sulfur-ingested Kazakh oil) in conjunction with the ongoing quarrels among the littoral states concerning demarcation zones in the sea’s continental shelf and with some hitherto disappointing drilling results in three Azerbaijani fields has pinpointed the difficulties and has sobered up somehow expectations and investors’ initial boundless enthusiasm. The problem of exporting the products of this landlocked region has thus taken a different dimension. Costs are paramount in deciding the optimal export routes. And costs do not seem to keep up with political considerations and geopolitical strategies. The Caspian Pipeline Consortium (CPC) pipeline has finally gotten off the ground after a long delay and endless obstacles created by the various Russian regional authorities. The Azerbaijan International Operating Company (AIOC) in the south is, despite the relevant rhetoric, reluctant to commence work on a main pipeline route since the financial situation is changing constantly and estimates go up and down. Based on realistic expectations about the available volume of oil, a long route to the Mediterranean shores through south-east Turkey

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would carry a cost of about 2.8 $/bl, excluding possible tariffs levied by Turkey and Georgia. Alternatively, the cost per barrel through a pipeline only to Supsa and from there on with tankers to the ports of Italy, would amount to only 1.40 $/bl. All other export routes via the Black Sea (Thracian pipeline, pipeline to the Sea of Marmara, unloading to Costanza or a Burgas-Alexandroupolis pipeline) fall within the same nexus. The Azerbaijani Consortium appears in recent months more optimistic about the Baku-Ceyhan main pipeline since discovered real reserves in Azerbaijan are considered by experts as substantial. Unless, however, aggregate volumes of oil, from both sides of the Caspian, are exported through this route, the Baku-Ceyhan project will probably never get off the ground. The CPC project, however, as well as the agreements Kazakhstan has concluded with China, for a long eastward pipeline across Xinjang and for a southern one to Iran, are putting this idea in relative jeopardy. At the same time, oil swaps between eastern Caspian states (Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan) and Iran are being negotiated, with the US administration, before giving its approval, agonizingly attempting to assess whether their realization may endanger the feasibility of the east-west route through Turkey. In short, the construction today of a Baku-Ceyhan main pipeline (estimated cost $4bn) would end up adding a transport cost differential to the oil companies involved of about $1.1m/day, which could lead to a revenue loss of about $1bn/ year. At the same time, the government of Azerbaijan stands also to lose dearly by absorbing in its reduced intakes part of the above cost. For the time being, therefore, and on the basis of real volumes of oil to be extracted from the area, an upgraded Baku-Supsa pipeline complemented by the old Soviet line to Novorossisk (either through a new one bypassing Chechnya and turbulent Daghestan or following the old route) seems—political considerations aside—to satisfy the commercial needs of the parties involved in the Petrol Sharing Agreements (PSA) in Azerbaijan. The oil companies which will finance the construction of the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan pipeline have been at times sceptical, fearing that the planned route and the anticipated total volume of oil from Azerbaijan make the project economically risky. There have been, however, in the last couple of years some developments which indicate that political pressures for the construction of this pipeline might be bringing some results. In October 2000, the State Oil Company of Azerbaijan (SOCAR) signed an agreement in Baku with a group of seven international oil companies that agreed to finance a $25m basic engineering feasibility study on construction of the planned pipeline. Turkey, Azerbaijan and Georgia have already approved, albeit with a large delay, the final route. Participants in the group of sponsors will automatically become members of a company called the Main Export Pipeline Company (MEPCO). In February 2001,

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Chevron, which along with ExxonMobil has long opposed Baku-Ceyhan, decided to join the group of sponsors. This was very important since up to that point only SOCAR members had participated in the sponsorship group. That is, only companies who are members of the consortium which is developing the off shore fields (Azeri, Chirag and Gunashi) expected to provide the oil to be exported. With Chevron’s participation the project acquired a higher profile reflecting optimism for its future prospects. Support of the project by Chevron and its decision to join the sponsorship group came as a surprise. Skeptics’ concerns were eased and a new thrust for the realization of the pipeline was added. Chevron’s participation appeared to provide MEPCO with sufficient volume to satisfy those worried about its feasibility and consequent profitability. Chevron is not a partner of AIOC. It nevertheless has a stake in the Absheron field, in offshore Azerbaijan. This is one of the richest fields in the area and its oil reserves could provide additional quantities of oil for the Baku-Ceyhan project. The realization of such an endeavour would make obsolete any need of oil from the Kashagan field in Kazakhstan, which, nevertheless, still remains undeveloped. It is not coincidental that many Azeri officials repeatedly have stated—without, however, abandoning the scepticism of international oil experts—that Baku-Ceyhan is viable without Kazakh oil. In the meantime, Kazakhstan has not been stable in its support for the Baku-Ceyhan pipeline. The Kazakhs prefer to keep all their export options open. It is typical for the officials of Kazakhstan to make contradictory statements at different points in time. In March 2001, for example, Kazakh President Nursultan Nazarbayev appeared to give his support for Baku-Ceyhan, stating that the first oil from Kashagan in 2004 would flow through MEPCO. In June 2002, however —during a visit to Altana by the Greek President K.Stefanopoulos—he was quite forthcoming in declaring his support for the Burgas-Alexandroupolis pipeline project, which rivals directly the Baku-Ceyhan route. Finally, BP, which is the main operator of the AIOC consortium, appears to have decided to throw its support behind the Baku-Ceyhan pipeline. BP had been opposed to the project, citing doubts that enough oil has been found to justify the high costs. However, BP seems to have revised downwards, with the help obviously of relentless US and Turkish pressure, the amount of oil that would be needed to make the pipeline financially viable, from 6 bbl to a more feasible 4– 4.5 bbl. In the spring of 2001, Sir John Browne, head of BP, repeatedly expressed his company’s basic support for this project, as well as BP’s readiness to participate in its financing. Coincidentally, at the same time, the US administration was expected to rule on a possible merger of BP with a major American oil company. With the completion of the basic engineering study in May 2001, Bechtel was named as the winner of a tender to carry out a final, $150m, detailed engineering feasibility study for the pipeline. Bechtel will carry out the work in Azebaijan and

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Georgia, while the Turkish pipeline company Botas will undertake the work in Turkey. The six-month study, which began in June 2001, constitutes the design phase of the final project, covering all issues relating to the final details of the route, including the type of line pipe to be used, the pumps and pumping stations requirements, and the basic engineering. If the pipeline progresses on schedule, construction was expected to begin in early 2002, and oil could possibly flow before the end of 2004. As things stand at the time of writing in November 2002, however, most of the above have not materialized. There is strong speculation concerning the reasons for the new delays. Nevertheless, in mid-September 2002 final arrangements were made for the abrupt opening of the construction project. On 18 September the first stone was laid for the initial stage of the main export pipeline project. With the presidents of Turkey, Azerbaijan and Georgia present as well as with major officials from the United States and the major oil companies appearing at the ceremony a message was sent that the project will get off the ground. For many observers, however, the meaning of this eager commencement of the construction work was an indication of the urgency felt by all the parties involved to present the project as a fait accompli, before an American invasion in Iraq took place. Prior, that is, to the possibility of the immense Iraqi reserves flooding the world markets and casting doubts on the commercial value of this costly transport pipeline. ROUTES ACROSS THE CASPIAN SEA The amount of oil that is sent by barge across the Caspian Sea is expected to rise further with expansions to pipeline, port and rail infrastructure in the Caspian region countries. In addition to the large volume of oil that already is being shipped by barge across the sea, several trans-Caspian oil export pipeline options have been proposed. As Caspian region production increases, trans-Caspian oil pipelines could bring increasing volumes of oil and gas from Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan across the Caspian. The trans-Caspian pipelines would connect with other export pipelines from the Caspian region, such as the proposed Main Export Pipeline. Eventually, the cross-Caspian pipelines could be connected on the east with export routes flowing eastward as well. In December 1998, Royal Dutch Shell, Chevron and Exxon/Mobil signed an agreement with Kazakhstan to conduct a feasibility study for twin oil and gas pipelines that would pass across the Caspian Sea from Aktau in western Kazakhstan to Baku. However, the idea of constructing trans-Caspian pipelines thus far has met with resistance. In addition to the legal issues relating to the use of the sea, Russia and Iran have raised environmental concerns about the impact of pipelines on the seabed and have opposed the laying of undersea pipelines on ecological grounds. The Caspian seabed is earthquake

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prone and contains steep gorges that render any pipeline laying a very hazardous enterprise. There are also still pending very serious territorial disputes that need to be resolved as well. As far as the export options for the region’s gas are concerned, in order to export any gas at all, the area’s producers have either to sell their gas to Russia at below market prices or pay Gazprom a transit fee, then export the gas to former Soviet states that cannot pay fully in cash or are tardy with payments for supplies already received. Turkmenistan’s economy, which is concentrated mainly in oil and gas, experienced a huge 25 per cent drop in GDP in 1997 when Gazprom denied Turkmenistan access to its pipeline network over a payment issue. Although Gazprom and Turkmenistan resolved the dispute in 1998, in order to reach its full gas export potential, Turkmenistan and the other Caspian region gas producers must solve the problem of getting their gas to consumers and getting paid promptly in hard currency. COUNTRY POLITICAL CONSIDERATIONS The political considerations that actively embrace the actions of states and companies that are involved in the area are very different. After years of relative indifference the US administration is now engaged in a tough game of diplomatic activity. American national interests are thought to be better served by ensuring that the Caspian riches, whatever these may be, are brought to hard currency markets by avoiding the routes through Russia and Iran. To ensure the economic and political independence of the Caucasian and Central Asian states, the United States believes that an east-west transport corridor, which in the future might expand to include rail lines, communication networks and highways, would connect unobtrusively the economies of the Former Soviet south countries with the markets of the world. Thus, Iran and Russia will diminish in significance and will not be able to dominate the region. The Baku-Ceyhan project, therefore, is for the United States a matter of paramount geostrategic significance. ‘The question is not whether the route is commercially viable. The idea is to persuade the companies to work out plans so that it becomes economically attractive’ (Ambassador Richard Morningstar, then assistant secretary of state and special advisor to the president on Caspian energy diplomacy, Washington, DC, Nov. 1998). For the transcaucasian and central Asian republics reliance on foreign aid and investment is crucial for their economic survival. Therefore, the choice of pipeline routes becomes an issue of political convenience. Should the United States and the investing companies opt for a specific option the countries of the region will not raise any serious objections. There are only two exceptions. The first relates to the feasibility of the chosen option, and the second concerns the pressures that

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might be applied by other regional powers, i.e., Russia, Iran and China. Thus, Kazakhstan supports the east-west corridor idea provided it leads to the creation of export pipelines in a relatively short time. Otherwise, it is quite feasible that it may work with China and Iran for the speedy realization of alternative export routes. Turkmenistan, although it agreed eagerly to a transcaspian gas pipeline across Turkey, has nevertheless, bowing probably to pressures from Iran and expressing its displeasure with Azerbaijan’s position on the division of the Caspian seabed, declined to sign the symbolic October 1998 Ankara Declaration in support of the Baku-Ceyhan route. Likewise, the current economic crisis that has besieged Turkey has cast serious doubts on the possible realization of this particular project. Azerbaijan appears to side aggressively with the United States in favour of the route through Turkey, despite its good relations with Iran and its profound loss of revenues from this option. It is evident, however, that Baku ties its compliance with this policy on the high expectation that the United States will be more successful than Russia in suppressing Armenian nationalism and that, in the face of Moscow’s suspected schemes to stir unrest among separatist elements in the south Caucasus and destabilize the region, Washington would, somehow, also guarantee pipeline security. The evident beneficiary of the latest twists and turns in the Caspian pipeline diplomacy is Turkey. Although seemingly unable to contribute any funds towards the construction of the Baku-Ceyhan pipeline, Ankara has benefited enormously from Washington’s determination to push ahead with this project. Having drawn the US to its way of strategic thinking, Turkey now offers only minor concessions to the oil companies by means of tax breaks and low tariffs. Having neglected up to very recently to work in detail the exact costs and the route hazards for the pipeline, Turkey has emphasized the risks from traffic congestion in the Bosporus and relies on US efforts to line up some American agencies to help finance the project. By threatening to regulate navigation across the straits, something that Ankara actually cannot do unilaterally under the provisions of the Montreaux Convention, Turkey argues that the costs of this shipping route may skyrocket. Likewise, the congestion of the straits argument cannot be objectively upheld since the total amount of the ‘main oil’ volume to be transported out of Baku (about 800,000 bls/day) can be shipped by means of a large supertanker. This single tanker, albeit a smaller one, already traverses the Bosporus today, carrying the daily ‘early oil’ supply from Novorossisk! Inasmuch as Greece lies at the periphery of the Eurasian landmass its national interests are directly affected by developments there. The choice of Turkey as the main export route for the Caspian riches not only harms Greece’s economic prospects—by rendering the Bourghas-Alexandroupolis pipeline inoperative— but also diminishes its aspirations as a major regional player. If Turkey becomes

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the hub for the transportation of most Central Asian resources to world markets its international status and prestige is automatically upgraded. Its regional adversaries, among them Greece because of the two countries’ Aegean Sea disputes and the 1974 Turkish invasion of Cyprus, will suddenly find themselves up against considerable world interests lined up behind Turkey. Greece does not oppose the westward oil export routes. It is, however, concerned by the prospect of Turkey commanding a monopoly position in controlling the routes of oil to world markets. The Greek position relies heavily on the use of the Russian Black Sea port of Novorossisk, as the export hub for the Caspian resources, as well as on the good will of the Bulgarian regime for the realization of a southern Balkan oil transport pipeline. The weakness of the Greek project becomes obvious by the fact that it is still not clear whether the Russian routes will be utilized for the transport of the Caspian oil supplies. Consequently, the quantities of oil that will arrive at Novorossisk for transport across the Black Sea are still unknown. This is the more so if recent Russian preferences for the northern outlets (the Arctic and the Baltic Sea) are taken into account. It is therefore no wonder that oil companies avoid committing themselves to specific volumes of oil to be transported by means of this route. Hence, nobody can be sure as to whether the Burgas-Alexandroupolis pipeline will finally get off the ground. In the meantime, the Greeks have neglected to negotiate, i.e. with the Georgians, the possibility of a third option—that is, the loading of oil to supertankers at the port of Poti and henceforth transporting the quantities to Burgas. Greece’s chances are totally tied up with the Russian prospects of becoming a trusted partner of the West and therefore nullifying the chances of a Baku-Ceyhan line. In view of recent developments in the international energy scene, this is no longer such a remote prospect. The distrust that has enveloped relations between the USA and Saudi Arabia along with Russia’s eagerness to appear willing to supply the west with ample quantities of reasonably priced oil encourage the drawing of similar conclusions. Uncertainty however still persists. Because there are still many skeptics in the West who distrust Russia and press hard to get the Baku-Ceyhan line going. They are doing so for the purpose of safeguarding energy security from any future turbulences in the Kremlin. THE CASPIAN SEA LEGAL STATUS STILL UNRESOLVED The Caspian Sea littoral states are still in disagreement as far as the legal status of the sea is concerned. Before the collapse of the USSR, only two countries—the Soviet Union and Iran—bordered the Caspian Sea, and the legal status of the sea was governed by the 1921 and 1940 bilateral treaties. Under their rulings, the

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two countries were sharing equally whatever was discovered on the seabed. With the collapse of the Soviet Union and the emergence of Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan and Azerbaijan as independent states, ownership and extraction rights in the sea have been called in question. Currently, there is no agreed-upon convention that delineates the littoral states’ ownership of the sea’s resources or their development rights. Fierce disagreements have arisen over mutual claims to different regions of the sea. Russia and Iran would opt for the area to be considered a lake, so that its resources would be split equally among all littoral countries. Azerbaijan, Turkmenistan and Kazakhstan would rather prefer for the region to be considered a sea so that the related stipulations of the Law of the Sea would be applicable here as well. That is, each country would have a right on its related continental shell and therefore be free to exploit its own resources without regard to the intentions of the other countries bordering the sea. At the same time, Turkmenistan and Azerbaijan remain locked in a dispute over the Serdar/Kyapaz field, while Azerbaijan has objected to Iran’s decision to award Royal Dutch Shell and Lasmo a license to conduct seismic surveys in a region that Azerbaijan considers to fall within its territorial jurisdiction. Furthermore, Turkmenistan claims that portions of the Azeri and Chirag fields—which are called Khazar and Osman respectively by the authorities in Ashkabat, Turkmenistan’s capital city— lie within its national waters rather than Azerbaijan’s. Turkmenistan has insisted that work at the Azeri and Chirag fields, which is being carried out by the AIOC, should be stopped. Finally, Iran has repeatedly aired its objections to explorations of the seabed without its tacit agreement. As recently as July 2001, Iran sent its gunboats to stop British Petroleum (BP) in its efforts to strike an offshore bottom field. Tehran has made it quite clear (September 2002) that no agreement to divide the Caspian Sea can be acceptable without the explicit guarantee that Iran has secured 20 per cent of the sea’s resources. In April 2002, the Caspian littoral states finally failed to reach an agreement on sharing the riches of the sea’s continental shelf. The Ashkabat summit ended without a resolution and the five states decided to act unilaterally in signing agreements and proceed with projects and ventures. This development would mean possibly the exclusion of Iran from sharing in any of the spoils and likewise put the Russian Federation in a relatively difficult position. Both of these states would have liked an equal shares agreement which, however, is rejected outright by the rest of the Caspian shoreline countries. Russia may take these events lightly, since after 11 September its relations with the West have significantly improved and its oil companies participate in most of the Caspian projects. It is not coincidental that, within the light of these developments, Moscow reiterates that the fruitless Ashgabat meeting was ‘a big success’ (Russian Deputy Foreign Minister V.Kalyuzhny’s statement at the Halki International Conference in

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September 2002). Iran, on the other hand, is profoundly offended. Its reactions may be unpredictable and do not exclude the possible use of force in the area. OBSTACLES TO THE MAIN EXPORT PIPELINE FINANCING There were also difficulties for the arranged partial financing of the pipeline by the aforementioned American agencies since, with the merger of BP with Amoco, the equity owned by US companies in the AIOC has fallen to beneath 24 per cent. There were some initial thoughts to bypass the problem by setting up a separate pipeline consortium with American equity majority, but the idea was initially received with mixed signals by the countries in the region. It appears that recently this line of thought has earned powerful supporters. The efforts of American diplomacy and Turkish persuasive techniques have brought significant results. As I have previously mentioned there has been a recent initial agreement to set up a separate Main Export Pipeline Company (MEPCO), with US equity majority, to bypass obstacles of this nature. In an uncharacteristic fashion Turkey even threatened the AIOC leaders BP/ Amoco some years ago (late 1998) with sanctions in the Turkish market because they appeared to oppose the Baku-Ceyhan project. The primacy of political considerations became clear in the words of the then Turkish minister of energy, who claimed that his country’s state refineries may consider excluding the products of those two companies since they do not seem to be ‘interested in the future prospects of Turkey’. This action, along with covert but strong American pressures, might have influenced the latest change of heart in favour of the Baku-Ceyhan pipeline by the aforementioned leading European oil company. On the other hand, Turkey’s strong arm tactics towards Syria and Cyprus, for the purpose of pacifying its southeastern Kurdish provinces (which lay dangerously close to the pipeline corridor) and of easing tensions in the eastern Mediterranean around the port of Ceyhan, have met with considerable success. Turkey has hitherto crushed the PKK-led Kurdish insurrection while it has managed to avert the installation of Russian-made S-300 missiles in Cyprus. Likewise, its declared formal alliance with Israel has contributed significantly in rallying support in Washington for the projects Ankara pursues in the Caucasus and the Middle East as well as allowing it more room for manoeuvre in the volatility of the region’s politics. RUSSIAN, IRANIAN AND CHINESE INTERESTS The Russian Federation views the situation with extreme suspicion. Unable to accept its exclusion from the energy resources of the region, Moscow may

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undermine many a carefully laid plan to produce instability and chaos. For the time being Russia speaks with many voices on the Caspian energy issue (Ministry of Energy, Foreign Ministry, oil companies) and it is therefore difficult to extrapolate accurately about its future behaviour. Notwithstanding the recently established closer cooperation between Washington and Moscow the two powers still do not see eye to eye on the Caspian issue. After their meetings in Shanghai and Camp David Presidents Bush and Putin failed to give any signals indicating that there may be some changes to their known differences on Caspian oil politics. More recently, Moscow appears willing to replace Saudi Arabia as a bastion of oil security for the West. It still feels uneasy, however, over the fact that Washington has not shelved its plans to push for the Baku-Ceyhan pipeline. The Russian Federation detests any effort to cut it off from the Caspian oil riches. Kremlin strategists feel still capable of aborting similar plans. Moscow obviously retains the means to stir separatist fervour in Georgia’s breakaway regions of Abkhazia and South Ossetia in the Caucasus, to threaten Azerbaijan’s stability through internal and external unrest, to raise tensions with Turkey by encouraging the Kurdish revolt, to strangle Kazakhstan economically by undermining the routine operation of the CPC pipeline and by stirring trouble among that country’s ethnic Russian population, to delay drilling work in the Caspian by posing obstacles in the transportation of equipment by means of its inland waterways and by invoking urgently questions of environmental protection, seabed ownership and demarcation zones in the Basin. Moscow can only be effectively appeased if parts of the southern Caspian oil find their way to Novorossisk and, possibly, if it gains a stake in the various business operations. The latest expression of intent by LUCOIL to secure a 7.5 per cent stake in the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan consortium could be a sign that Russia may have positive second thoughts about the project. Some observers, however, believe that by joining this particular business venture (although LUKOIL stands definitely to gain, e.g. by escaping home-imposed heavy taxes and fees) Russia may be in a position to undermine it more effectively from the inside (reject feasibility studies, object to routes, delay approval of financial deals). Some even suggest that LUKOIL’s chairman Alekperov, who is an Azerbaijan national, may be planning to opt for the Azeri presidency in the forthcoming elections, thus securing for Moscow the unexpected bonus of controlling Azeri politics (and, inevitably, pipeline export routes) from the inside. It appears, however, that ever since Russia secured a position of trusted partner with the West, and the United States in particular, its business concerns overwhelmingly bypass its strategic considerations. The privatization of major Russian oil conglomerates, the introduction by them of state-of-the-art marketing strategies and the adoption of world-standard book-and account-keeping methods as well as the effort to acquire

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or merge with serious foreign business entities profoundly indicates those new trends. There cannot be any other explanation for the sudden decision by Lucoil to pull out from a number of projects in Azerbaijan (Azeri-Chiraq-Guneshli (ACG), Shah Deniz gas field) creating furore among the Azeri officials. On 17 November, a company press release stated that the decision to sell its shares in the ACG project fell within its strategy to follow a program of ‘asset optimization’. By thus downgrading the business potential of its Azerbaijani involvement the Russian company forced some Baku officials to retaliate by hinting that LUKOIL would be ‘barred from future projects in their country’ (Financial Times, 18 Nov. 2002). It appears that, although Putin has made it clear that he wishes to increase his country’s involvement in the Caspian, senior Russian oil executives have agreed with the Kremlin to utilize their energy receipts for projects within Russian national territory. At any rate, if Russia remains unwillingly excluded from the westward pipeline projects—and dependent on the circumstances of its political condition—the Kremlin’s reaction could be fierce. Russia has behaved recently as a serious business partner of the West, replacing Saudi Arabia as the echelon safeguarding the West’s energy security. Russian exports of oil have recently increased considerably, stabilizing the markets where necessary. At times Russia is producing and exporting more oil than Saudi Arabia while its production quotas remain standardized, thus assisting markets to stabilize and prices to lose their volatility. At the July 2002 G8 meeting in Canada, President Putin did not hide his intention to guarantee the constant flow of oil to world markets as well as turning Russia to a reliable paragon of global price stability. If this situation finally consolidates itself it is presumed that Russia would demand in exchange some kind of active participation in the exploitation and/or transportation of the Caspian region’s reserves. It is not coincidental that, while LUKOIL appears sceptical about its business involvement in Azerbaijan, a number of other Russian companies, namely ITERA, Rosneft and Zarubezhneft, decided to actively participate in oil and gas projects in Turkmenistan. The Russian companies are poised to buy shares in Zarit—a Turkmen company registered in Moscow and holding rights in offshore Caspian blocks as well as in projects on the right bank of the Amudarya river. Although running in circles, Russian strategic and business interests appear to converge in the fact that the Kremlin is justifiably concerned about the Caspian Basin but its oil companies will not get involved in regional projects on the basis of strategic considerations only. This appears to be the case in the terrible imbroglio that has enveloped the projected construction of the oil pipeline to connect Russia’s Angarsk field with the Daqing oil field in China (based on the statements by Andrei Illarionov, economic adviser to President Vladimir Putin, as quoted by Interfax, 6 July 2002).

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Initial plans between Russia’s oil conglomerate Yukos and the Chinese state oil Company CNPC (China Petroleum and Chemical Corporation) to build the pipeline fell apart when in late November 2002 the Chinese announced their decision to withdraw from the consortium. It seems that Beijing has been offended by Moscow’s quiet encouragement of the construction of another route to bring oil to the Russian Far East. The Russians believe that an oil route to the Pacific port of Nakhodka, although longer and more costly, would simultaneously service the import needs of China, provide Russian oil to other East Asian markets (thus replacing today’s Persian Gulf oil monopoly) and bypass the scarcely populated and vulnerable to Chinese immigration Siberian southern regions. Due to the complex interaction between business and strategic considerations the riddle of the final destiny of the project still remains unsolved. As a littoral state of the Caspian Sea, Iran cannot easily accept the geostrategic notion of an exclusive east-west transport corridor. Besides, the principle has already been violated by the acceptance of a southeastern pipeline route via Afghanistan to the port of Karachi in Pakistan. The American oil company Unocal already had, under the previous Taliban regime, a head start in the project, with the US administration’s blessings, despite the fact that Pakistan had already developed weapons of mass destruction (as Iran is often accused of doing) and had a strong Islamic fundamentalist movement in place. Iranian officials argue that the only difference is that Pakistan does not have disputes with Israel and that along with Turkey they build an Islamic pro-Israeli shield. On the basis of those assumptions, Tehran is convinced that US-Iranian relations, which might prove to be the catalyst for Iran’s participation in the Caspian export jamboree, pass through Jerusalem. This is despite Zbignew Brzezinski’s warning before a Senate Foreign Relations subcommittee in July 1998 that Iran may be led to join up with Russia against the interests of the West if it is isolated and excluded from most Caspian oil projects. ‘Some [US] accommodation with Iran’, Brzezinski asserted, ‘is in the mutual interests of both countries’. Following the war in Afghanistan and the destruction of the Taliban Iran’s relations with the West are not as distant as they used to be. With the advent of war in Iraq the United States will inevitably need to build a functioning relationship with Iran. Whether that would lead to an ultimate lifting of sanctions and to Tehran’s participation in the world market mechanism is anyone’s guess. The oil companies, though, would celebrate a development such as this. Nevertheless, as things stand today Iran exerts considerable influence on Turkmenistan, works on a number of hitherto not very successful swap agreements with Kazakhstan and, in co-operation with China, looks forward to a north-south pipeline which would connect its northeastern refineries with the Atyrau and Aktau Kazakh oilfields.

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China, finally, has her own plans for the region. Thirsty for oil, China has surprisingly won some remarkable bids in Kazakhstan and is poised to build a long pipeline from there to its densely populated southeast. Already China has contracts with some Kazakh projects (Shymkent, Kumkol) and imports oil by rail to its Xinjang capital Urumchi. It actively aims to form on the energy field strategic alliances with Iran and Russia to keep the necessary oil flowing when its mounting needs dry up its reserves and overwhelm its present suppliers. The recent economic crisis in Asia has somehow slowed down China’s increasing needs but the prospect remains that sometime soon China may need to consume the total daily oil production of Saudi Arabia. China, of course, is not directly involved in the current debate over Caspian oil export politics. Eyeing, however, the energy riches of Kazakhstan and probably whatever Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan can produce for export, China casts a heavy shadow upon the viability of expensive pipelines that aim to drive that same produce to different directions. If there can ever be a question about US energy security with respect to the Caspian, this relates to the possibility of the Chinese overbidding for Gulf oil and hence sending Japan, some western Europeans and the other Asian consumers to the markets that traditionally supply the United States. In such a situation, Russian and Central Asian oil may then have to play some role in market stabilization. With high oil prices, then, even the longest pipelines may prove to be profitable. Situations such as these, however, have their own endemic problems. If oil prices are surging, the tariffs levied by the countries hosting the pipelines will start to rise considerably. No agreement will ever be signed without a clause taking this possibility into consideration. Likewise, the rise in energy demand would most probably mean healthier world economies and an increase in domestic consumption. This is so because any indication of a world economic upsurge would rapidly translate to higher energy consumption and an increase in the demand for oil. Under these circumstances, the littoral Black Sea states (Russia, the Ukraine, Moldova, Belarus, Romania, Bulgaria and Turkey) would have to achieve some modest level of growth. In such a case, however, those states would need to consume a considerable amount of the oil produced and transported in a westerly direction out of the Caspian Sea (about 1.4 million bl/ day). In 2000, net oil exports in Kazakhstan totaled 452,000 bl/day while Azerbaijan yielded 155,000bl/day. Overall, Caspian Sea region oil exports in 2000 amounted to about 800,000bl/ day (of the 1.3mbl/day produced). If the numerous oil projects in the region slated to boost production in the coming years materialize, the region’s net exports could increase to over 3 mbl/day in 2010, and possibly, in an optimistic estimate, to another 2 mbl/day on top of that by 2020. Before that time, and if of course the optimistic estimates become a reality, not much oil would remain

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to serve the strategic interests of the West and decisively affect the world price of oil. National strategies, therefore, are paramount in determining the course of events in the Caspian. Pipelines are discussed and designed on the basis of the national interests of the states involved. Economic considerations come a poor second. National aspirations therefore rise and fall in accordance with the final decisions of the principal actors. The United States, in taking the lead and throwing its weight behind one of the many alternative export routes, is perilously close to getting entangled in a local web of political rivalries and complex regional and ethnic conflicts. This policy neglects also the impressive U-turn of Russia in appearing now as a willing business partner of the West, departing from its traditional role of the suspect foe. American foreign policy will now have to come to terms with the formidable task of appeasing an extremely suspicious Russia, of securing peace and stability in and among the southern Caucasus nations, of persuading Greece and the other Balkan states that the United States is not working against their own economic and national interests, of keeping Iran for a long time excluded from developments in the area and of motivating the oil companies to spend millions of overhead dollars in a project imperiled by enormous financial burdens and insuperable local political complexities. Not an enviable task indeed! ACKNOWLEDGEMENT This article was researched and drafted in Washington DC while the author was a Woodrow Wilson Center Public Policy Scholar. Thanks are also due for research and writing facilities to the Athens Attica Traditional Educational Foundation.

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Silk Road, Great Game or Soft Underbelly? The New US-Russia Relationship and Implications for Eurasia CELESTE A.WALLANDER

INTRODUCTION The impact of the US war against Al Qaeda and the Taliban in Afghanistan brought Russia into a closer relationship with the United States and set it more firmly on the path of security, political and economic integration with the West. Putin’s decision to support US policy (with acceptance of US forces and bases in Central Asia, the offer of overflight rights and support for search-and-rescue missions, sharing of substantial intelligence, and endorsement of US military trainers in Georgia), his silencing of official dissent, concrete policy concessions (the ABM treaty, offensive arms talks, and NATO enlargement) and priorities (WTO, trade deals, and investment) are evidence that there is more to the Russian orientation toward the United States than feel-good politics and personal relationships. The US counterterrorist campaign in Afghanistan and the reality of US presence and influence in Eurasia for the foreseeable future created a huge opportunity for Putin’s Russia, which Putin has mostly successfully seized. It shifted the focus of US security policy and threat perception to extremist Islamic terrorism in Eurasia, based not only in Afghanistan but also in the Caucasus. Although experts can make reliable distinctions between Russia’s war in Chechnya and US operations in Afghanistan, it is extremely difficult to make those distinctions in a convincing way in public diplomacy, resulting in reduced public US pressure on Russia in Chechnya. The US has taken over the problem of the Taliban and its destructive role in Central Asian security, a problem which increasingly dominated Russian security concerns in the 1990s. It created a sense in US foreign policy circles that other areas of the US-Russia relationship needed to show progress, particularly in the economic and business sphere that was Putin’s priority. Two questions will determine whether the positive opportunity to advance Putin’s agenda is sustained. The first is whether the United States succeeds in defeating terrorist networks in Afghanistan, Central Asia and the Caucasus. If US presence and operations do not bring stability and security throughout the region

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—and especially if they exacerbate the problems by fueling extremism and terrorist attacks—then the fundamental advantage of an improvement in relations with the US and advancing the economic agenda will be negated by an immediate increase in insecurity to Russia. It is one thing for Putin to manage and silence discontent created by American presence in Central Asia if he can point to a better security outlook for a Russian public that still sharply remembers the 1999 apartment bombings and incursions outside Chechnya. It would be quite another to defend his welcome of the United States if the result is greater instability, terror and insecurity for Russians. The second question is whether the apparent common interest against Eurasian terrorism is sustainable. How the threat is defined will affect how the campaign is conducted over the medium term. We have already seen how disagreements about Iraq’s role in global terrorism create serious problems in US-Russia relations, even in the midst of the overall positive context. If conditions deteriorate in Uzbekistan or Georgia, and especially in relation to cross-border conflict in the Russian Federation, the United States and Russia could quickly find themselves disagreeing about the extent and methods of fighting terrorism in the region. If instability spreads to Pakistan, Russia may see its investment in a promising relationship with India at risk, and may become impatient with a United States that does not prevent the spread of the conflict. Most of all, Putin’s core priority for economic development underpins his acceptance of US priorities and initiatives across a range of security issues. If that economic opportunity is erased by conflict and instability throughout Eurasia, the fundamental calculation is virtually certain to change. Russia right now is discounting near term weakness and subordination for longer term benefit. Without that long-term prospect, other short-term strategies, especially competitive and obstructionist ones, may look more promising for a Russian leadership that wants to maintain a Russian Federation with a Great Power role. Central Asia is not intrinsically important to Russia’s Eurasian security and economic policies and ambitions, but it is unavoidably located right in the middle of many of the opportunities and threats for Russian objectives. RUSSIA’S INTERESTS The Russian economy grew by 5.4 per cent in 1999, 8.3 per cent in 2000, 5.2 per cent in 2001, and is growing at 3–4 growing per cent for 2002. In the first two years, growth was primarily due to the effects of devaluation of the rouble (and thus the effects of import substitution as Russian goods became more competitive), and favourable international oil and gas prices. Since then, the Russian economy confounded pessimistic expectations as the effects of reduced costs and increased competitiveness fueled growth driven to a greater degree by

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demand and consumption. Industrial output grew by 4.9 per cent in 2001, and a growing percentage (over 61 per cent) of Russian enterprises are reported to be profitable. Real wages and real disposable household incomes continued to grow in 2001 (at 16.7 per cent and 5.4 per cent respectively), which contributed to continued strong domestic consumption. Fixed capital investment increased by 8.7 per cent in 2001, and capital outflows decreased from $2.3 billion per month at the beginning of 2001 to $1.5 billion per month in the third quarter (the most recent period for which World Bank figures are available). Russia’s trade surplus was $51.1 billion in 2001, and the government budget surplus was 2.4 per cent of GDP (Bush 2002). However, despite the overall positive picture, there are clear problems. Russia’s economy remains too concentrated in natural resources exports (which account for 70 per cent of the total), and the positive investment figures remain concentrated in the extractive industries. Only energy and food production have maintained their growth rates in the past year. And although overall industrial growth was a respectable 4.9 per cent, it was flat in the fourth quarter. Russia’s lack of a system for financial intermediation means that small and medium businesses still have a difficult time getting started, limiting Russia’s ability to diversify its economy. Although Russia will likely maintain economic growth even if the price of Urals crude oil falls as low as $13/bl, any reduction in global prices for energy reduces resources: it is estimated that every $1 change in the price of a barrel of crude oil is worth $1.2 billion to the Russian economy, with about one-third of the amount going to the government budget in taxes and duties. Inflation in 2001 was 16 per cent (higher than the 12 per cent government target), and the rouble appreciated by 7 per cent in real terms in 2001, reducing import substitution competitiveness. Indeed, Russian imports increased $7 billion and exports decreased $2 billion in 2001. The country needs to invest some $2.5 trillion over the next 20–25 years to replace ageing Soviet infrastructure and make up for the absence of investment in the 1990s. Therefore, Russia is running a race it can only win by creating new industries and developing new sectors, even as it remains dependent on international energy markets. Energy exports create benefits that ripple through the private economy and government budget, but they undermine competitiveness by causing appreciation of the rouble. Eroding competitiveness reduces production in the consumer sectors that did well after August 1998, and their slowdown depresses demand in the machine-building sector. Without a system by which profits and savings can be invested in new enterprises, investment and productivity will remain locked in the extractive sectors. In addition, it is important to understand that the manufacturing sectors of the Russian economy that are internationally competitive are military arms, nuclear power plants and space technology. The domestic market for all three is very

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limited, which is one reason why foreign markets are important. The first two sectors pull Russian foreign policy toward countries like China, Iran and India, which have an interest in the goods, ability to pay and difficulties in western markets. Russian arms sales in 2000 were about $4 billion, while the official Russian defence budget was just under $8 billion. Virtually none of Russian defence spending is for procurement, which means that Russian foreign arms sales are keeping its defence enterprises open and operating. This is significant not only in economic terms, but also politically, because many of Russia’s defence plants are located in single-factory towns as a consequence of Soviet-era industrial practices, and the populations of those towns are entirely dependent on the military economy for survival. The result is a Russian foreign policy dependent on foreign markets for energy, yet at the same time seeking investment and trade across a broader array of businesses. It is a Russian foreign policy that seeks to maintain traditional trade partners in traditional sectors, yet seeks new opportunities with countries— particularly those of Europe, developed Asia, and the United States—that can bring capital and experience to diversify the Russian economy. It is a Russian foreign policy that seeks to sell arms to China, and join the WTO, all as part of the same set of incentives and constraints. US POLICY AND RELATIONS US security policy is now dominated by the fight against global terrorism, and by the struggle to prevent future attacks from involving the use of biological, chemical or nuclear weapons. During the 1990s, it was clear that post-Soviet Russia was not a major threat to US security, but it was not clear whether the two countries could co-operate in meaningful ways in security, political or economic spheres. Russia’s primary role in US security policy was the problems it posed: how to move the country toward economic and political reform, how to prevent it from Soviet-style domination of its neighbours and—most important —how to prevent Soviet weapons of mass destruction from falling into the hands of those willing to threaten their use against the United States and its allies (Talbott 2002). However, Russia-as-problem was not a very promising basis for US-Russian co-operation in Eurasia. It meant that policy was dominated by the United States making demands on Russia—how it needed to reform internally, what it should not do in the Caucasus and Central Asia, that it accept NATO enlargement, and that it spend scarce funds and political efforts on American priorities for preventing WMD proliferation. With the shift in the Putin leadership’s priorities and potential in the economic sphere, the relationship had already begun to change. With the attack on the

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United States in September 2001, two things changed. The United States found a clear focus for its security policy, and the definition of the threat posed to the United States meant that Russia plays a role in the solution to the problem and the threat. For some time, Russian officials had been seeking US co-operation against the Taliban, and more generally had sought to gain US agreement on the priority of confronting terrorism in post-Soviet Eurasia. Russian forces had long supported and co-operated with the Northern Alliance in Afghanistan. As a result, Russian military and intelligence had the information, contacts and presence to offer very tangible assets to the United States when it began its campaign to defeat the Taliban and Al Qaeda in the fall and winter of 2001. Russia shared valuable intelligence, and its forces fought with the Northern Alliance against the Taliban in the operations co-ordinated with US forces. As a result of 11 September and the changes it caused in US priorities and policy, it became possible for Russia to play a different role in the relationship: Russia-as-partner. Most of all, Eurasia—stretching from Central Asia into the Caspian and Caucasus—became a place that American leaders and the public know. Geopolitical interests do not mean much in policy if leaders and citizens cannot locate regions or countries on a map. Maps of the region now consistently locate the region and its importance in America’s daily newspapers. The numbers are apparent not only in military terms, but in dollars. American private investment in the Central Asian countries stands at over $20 billion, with billions more planned by western energy companies. Official US government assistance has grown to over $800 million per year, and is likely to grow further as a result of the US presence. American interests in the region are not merely both in the security and economics areas, they are a combination of economics and security. US policy supports the development of sovereign and independent countries of the former Soviet Union, both on its own terms, and because it helps to reinforce Russia on its post-imperial transition to democracy. Independence in Central Asia means largely energy independence and multiple options for development. In addition to these security interests, the US has a clearly articulated interest in increasing the number and reliability of sources of energy for global markets, as articulated in the vice president’s report on US energy policy. The US policy is to create an environment of security in Eurasia that allows governments to make hard economic choices. The long-term security objective is stability, which in the US view requires democratization, liberal tolerance of diverse ethnic and religious traditions, and balanced economic growth. That is not going to happen in Eurasia unless Russia and the regional countries successfully develop energy assets and diversify their economies. In the US view, it is more likely to happen if Russia is not left to dictate terms to the Eurasian countries.

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In addition, the United States is facing changes in the campaign on terrorism in the next six months. The military action in Afghanistan is already shifting to mopping up and small-scale search-and-destroy operations, which are likely to be vulnerable to casualties, less evident success, and less visible acts of technological dominance and impressive military achievement than were the opening months of the operation. Tensions are increasing between the United States and its European allies about the scope, sources and solutions to global terrorism. That is evident not only in the case of US Iraq policy, but also in the case of Iran, and the huge gulf in US and European policy on Israel and Palestine. When terrorism vaulted to the top of the US priority list, many very important issues seemed to disappear from view. They are coming back, and are likely to affect US policy and options in the region. The India-Pakistan relationship is one important issue that has not gone away, and which has the potential to significantly alter the working status quo of the US Central Asian presence (Mehta and Schaffer 2001). If war between Pakistan and India makes South Asia a zone of conflict, a US presence in Central Asia becomes all the more important for containing and eliminating global terrorist elements in Afghanistan, and possibly in Pakistan itself. India’s economic potential and energy demands make for interesting complications. India currently buys 9 per cent of its oil from Iran, which is a source of irritation in relations with the US. It is looking to Central Asian markets for meeting its growing needs, but the options are complicated, since routes go through Iran, Afghanistan and/or Pakistan. US security interests since before 11 September pushed for a closer relationship and better dialogue with India. A US stake in India and South Asia is likely to reinforce the trend toward long-term importance of strategic and economic interests for the United States in Central Asia, by extending the reach and scope of interests beyond narrow counterterrorism and energy development. EURASIA Central Asia and the Caucasus are landlocked and geographically isolated from such lucrative markets as Europe and North America. Their access to global markets depends largely on the political and economic interests of large neighbours, including Russia, China, India, Iran and the European Union (Moldasheva 2001). The problem of development for Eurasian countries, therefore, becomes not merely one of extraction or creating modern productive capacity, but of transportation. In the crucial early years of transition, this can add unnecessary burdens to government revenue, impacting the viability of social safety nets, making further reforms politically impossible (or, just as damaging, inconsistent), yielding the result of diminished foreign investment and further regression (Alam and Banerji 2000; Esanov, Raiser and Buiter 2001).

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Therefore, the evocative development idea of a ‘Eurasian Silk Road’ in which the countries stretching from the Black Sea to Mongolia are able to link transportation for integration into the modern economy is inescapably geopolitical as well as economic. Given the economic thrust of Russia’s foreign and security policy, and given the new US presence and focus on Eurasia and its implications for US security, the US-Russia relationship is likely to have a determining effect on Eurasia’s ability to emerge from its recent history of isolation and backwardness into global potential. Compounding the problem of distance is the immediate environment; Eurasia’s countries are surrounded by unattractive neighbours, would-be hegemons and war-torn states, including one another. This not only threatens political stability within each country, but has effects that limit development potential. Economically rational routes for proposed pipelines can be non-starters with international investors, or the governments thereof, who are to finance them (as is the case because of the poor state of US-Iran relations)(Einhorn and Samore 2002). Multilateral institutions may offer avenues for regional co-operation, leading to both regional and global integration. In February 2002 the Central Asian Economic Community (CAEC) became the Central Asian Cooperation Organization (CACO) with four Central Asian countries (Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan) seeking to find a basis for addressing security, Afghanistan, illegal migration and possibilities for further economic integration. Particularly stressed was the hoped-for emergence of free trade zones, improvement in general infrastructure, and greater co-operation on the rational use of water resources. Competing with CACO, however, is the Shanghai Cooperation Organization, which includes Russia and China as well. With the two largest regional powers as members, the SCO has more potential and resources for tackling regional problems, such as cross-border crime and terrorism and transnational development projects. However, it also is more likely to advance the agendas of its two major powers, which may come at the expense of its Central Asian members (Gleason 2001; Misra 2001). The only promising multilateral regional organization that spans the Caucasus and Central Asian regions of Eurasia has been GUUAM (for Georgia, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan and Moldova). Conceived to some extent as a instrument of balance against Russian influence and policy, GUUAM has not had a very productive history. It was weakened by Ukraine’s improved relations with Russia given Ukrainian President Kuchma’s priority for mending the relationship with Russia. Most recently, its potential has been undermined by Uzbekistan’s decision to withdraw in June 2002. Although the Uzbek government explained its decision in terms of the organization’s ineffectiveness, Uzbekistan’s improved status by

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virtue of its bilateral relationship with the United States probably was more important for the decision, especially in light of the fact that Uzbekistan was never able to take a leading role in the regional organization. Another alternative multilateral structure for regional co-operation conceivably could be NATO. Ukraine has now applied to be considered a candidate, the Georgian leadership repeatedly articulates its goal of joining, Azerbaijan has held successful exercises under the Partnership for Peace programme, as have several of the Central Asian countries (Bhatty and Bronson 2000). There are two problems with a NATO model for regional security co-operation. The first is that the main avenue for successful co-operation to date —Partnership for Peace—is actually not a multilateral mechanism, but bilateral: between NATO and individual partner members. While multiple partners have been involved in PfP exercises or activities, PfP is limited with respect to multilateral security co-operation (RAND 1999). Second, since Russia did not have a positive experience with NATO or PfP in the 1990s, a growing role for NATO in the region runs the risk of heightening zero-sum calculations and working against the pragmatic thrust of Putin’s economic priorities in the region. Such a development would steer Eurasia away from the Silk Road model of co-operation and integration toward the Great Game version of competitive geopolitics. This may change if the new NATO-Russia relationship proves successful, but that condition merely highlights once again that Eurasia’s prospects for cooperation and integration remain highly dependent on the US-Russia relationship. Russia’s interest in good relations with the West and the Putin leadership’s priority for integration have been key to the evolution of a more pragmatic and realistic foreign policy, which has had beneficial effects in Eurasia. The balance has tilted away from exclusivist geopolitical competition in the region, toward joint policies to profit from energy development and exports. Russia’s pragmatic shift has fueled an improvement in relations not only in the West, but with potential markets in central, south, and east Asia (Trenin 2001). Russia’s energy strategy has begun to diversify with different trends in oil and gas. Russia’s oil companies are largely privatized, and commercial calculations dominate in the oil sector as a result. The Russian oil industry, for the most part, does not listen to the Russian government. And to a limited but significant degree, it is the oil companies that tell the Russian government what they need. The oil companies are interested in new technology, more processing of oil and oil products themselves, and in limiting price volatility. Production has not recovered from its 1990s crash from Soviet levels of 11mbl/day, but they have now recovered to 7mbl/day, and may reach 10mbl/day in the next decade. Russian oil companies not only seek investments, they are seeking to make investments, primarily in eastern and central Europe. Russian oil companies have

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invested in refineries and pipelines in the region, and continue to seek additional opportunities, including in new markets in Central and east Asia (Ebel 2002). Russia’s natural gas sector remains state owned, and its interests are as a consequence not as clearly or strongly commercial. Natural gas remains a source of influence in Russian relations with countries such as Georgia and Ukraine. However, at the same time that natural gas exports creates dependencies for importers that might affect Russia’s interests and policies in Central Asia, it creates dependencies for Russia itself. Building pipelines, for example, through Kazakhstan to China, or south through Central Asian countries and Afghanistan to Pakistan and India, creates a long-term commercial interest in maintaining sales that can create Russian political interests as well. Whether Russia can leverage gas exports for foreign policy interests depends in very large measure on the alternatives available to customer countries. US presence in Central Asia should be expected to mitigate the negative effects on sovereignty and independence on the foreign policies of regional countries from importing needed Russian supplies. However, the region faces a worrisome security situation, and Russia’s constructive engagement is not yet assured. The emergence of Eurasia as a source of transnational terrorism and theatre for the US-led campaign to eradicate its sources is focused on Afghanistan, but broader regions of Central Asia and the Caucasus are involved as well. Furthermore, we cannot forget that before 11 September, very tough territorial disputes, as well as internal ethnic and religious conflicts, threatened the stability and security of the region. The countries in this region are some of the poorest of post-Soviet Eurasia, and face tremendous social, economic, environmental and health problems that make them vulnerable to extremist politics and vulnerable to economic and security shocks (Jones-Luong and Weinthal 2002; Alison and Jonson 2001). While traditional security issues such as missile defence, strategic nuclear weapons and NATO were resolved in a series of successful meetings in May 2002, the real security challenges that Russia faces will not only persist, but are concentrated in the region. The generally positive US-Russia relationship (and the clear trend of Russian support for and co-operation with US counter-terrorism efforts in the region) suggest that there is a good chance that Russia and the West will be able to co-operatively tackle Eurasian security. But the truth is, the resources available for Russia to play a major constructive role are already quite limited, and are likely to diminish even further in the near future. Putin’s pragmatic Russia is unlikely to itself pose major security problems for the United States, but it will be a part of the solution to only a limited degree.

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IMPLICATIONS The geopolitical and geoeconomic picture that emerges from this survey of economic and strategic conditions in Eurasia may be understood in terms of three alternative models of future co-operation and integration of the region. The first is the current, one-dimensional understanding of Eurasia as the source of instability, terrorism, and threat to the United States and Russia: Eurasia as the ‘soft underbelly’. For Russia, Eurasia is a source of threat because of geography. For the United States, Eurasia is a global source of vulnerability and threat, because of the transnational reach and operation of terrorism. It is this meshing of threat that has created a basis for improved US-Russia relations, and that is to be welcomed. However, it is an extremely limited, distorting and potentially self-destructive basis for future Eurasian security. A simple counterterrorism focus in US and Russian policy risks a simple military approach to Eurasian security, which may exacerbate rather than ameliorate the fundamental sources of terrorism in poverty and repression. The second model is a modern Great Game, the kind of geopolitical competition that engaged Russia and Great Britain in the region in the past, and that periodically has drawn in other regional powers such as India, China, Iran and Turkey. A modern Great Game would mean that the United States and Russia —and other engaged regional powers—see primarily competitive economic, political and military interests in the region. They would seek to dominate transportation routes and ownership of resources, would focus on building sets of competing alliances and relationships with countries in the region, and would view success by other powers as defeats for their own interests. At the present time, the United States and Russia do not define their interests and relations in the region in this way. But given the historical dominance of this model in the region, it cannot be ruled out as we survey the coming years. The third model is a Eurasian Silk Road that focuses on regional cooperation as a means to integration, development and globalization. In the Silk Road model, countries inside and outside the region have to cooperate in order to prosper and be secure. Favouring this model of development is Russia’s new longer-term perspective on economic development, and the United States’ deeper appreciate of the multidimensional sources of security and Eurasian stability as they directly affect US interests. As the United States settles in for a long-term military and political presence in the region, issues of long-term development and stability are likely to become more important in US priorities. It is widely understood in US foreign policy circles that it is not enough to fight terrorists, and that over the long term, Eurasia will be a potential source of threat unless its citizens face a hopeful economic and security future.

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Yet this long term perspective comes into conflict with US and Russian interests in Central Asia’s role in global energy security and prosperity. Strong common interests in energy wealth and development could lead to instability if Central Asian governments and economic interests are not encouraged to find paths to balanced growth and diversification of their economies. As it stands, the trend for substantial co-operation in US-Russian relations are quite clear. Iran will remain a sore point in the relationship, but in most other issues where there has been distance between US and Russian positions (including Iraq, China, nuclear weapons and NATO) the gap has been steadily narrowing. Russian officials, still uncomfortable with US presence in the region, do concede that their discomfort with growing Chinese presence and influence has been mitigated by a United States apparently more disposed to co-operating with Russia in managing the counterterrorism mission and in seeking out energy development and transportation projects. China’s foreseeable economic potential dwarfs Russia’s in the region, so oil and gas partnerships with European and American companies offer Russian companies a leverage—or at least balance— unimaginable in the Russia-China relationship. This is why, as I proposed at the outset, the key questions remain whether the Russian leadership continues to hold economic restructuring and reform central to its priorities, whether the US military mission in the region remains on a successful track, and whether the United States and Russia manage to sustain a generally consistent view of terrorism and the threat it poses both countries, in Eurasia and globally. If so, then the US-Russia relationship can be the basis for a successful Silk Road future for Eurasia. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I would like to thank Alan Esser and Thomas Krepp for their valuable research assistance. REFERENCES Alam, Asadand Arup Banerji (2000): Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan: A Tale of Two Transition Paths, Policy Research Working Paper No. 2472, Washington, DC: World Bank. Allison, Royand Lena Jonson (eds) (2001): Central Asian Security: The New International Context, Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press. Bhatty, Robin and Rachel Bronson (2000):, ‘NATO’s Mixed Signals in the Caucasus and Central Asia’, Survival 42/3, pp. 129–45. Bush, Keith (2002): Net Assessment of the Russian Economy: June 2002, Washington, DC: The Center for Strategic and International Studies. Ebel, Robert (2002): ‘Russian Oil’, Oxford Energy Forum 49, pp. 12–15.

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Einhorn, Robert J. and Gary Samore (2002): ‘Heading off Iran’s Bomb: The Need for Renewed U.S.-Russian Cooperation’, Yaderny kontrol 7/3, pp. 9–24. Esanov, Akram, Martin Raiserand Willem Buiter (2001): Nature’s Blessing or Nature’s Curse: The Political Economy of Transition in Resource-based Economies, EBRD Working Paper No. 65, Washington, DC: World Bank. Gleason, Gregory (2001): ‘Inter-State Cooperation in Central Asia from the CIS to the Shanghai Forum’, Europe-Asia Studies 53/7, pp. 1077–95. Jones-Luong, Pauline and Erika Weinthal (2002): ‘New Friends, New Fears in Central Asia’, Foreign Affairs 81/2, pp. 61–70. Mehta, Mandavi and Teresita Schaffer (2001): ‘India and the United States: Security Interests’, South Asia Monitor, 34. Misra, Amalendu (2001): ‘Shanghai 5 and the Emerging Alliance in Central Asia: The Closed Society and its Enemies’, Central Asian Survey 20/3, pp. 305–21. Moldasheva, Gulnara B. (2001): ‘International Competition: The View from Central Asia’, Central Asia Monitor, 3. RAND (1999): NATO and Caspian Security: A Mission Too Far, Santa Monica, CA: RAND, available at . Trenin, Dmitri (2001): The End of Eurasia: Russia on the Border Between Geopolitics and Globalization, Washington, DC: The Carnegie Endowment for International Peace.

Balkan Security: What Security? Whose Security?

SPYROS ECONOMIDES

INTRODUCTION For over a decade security studies, if not the entire field of international relations, were dominated by the paradigm of the end of the Cold War. The phrase, ‘in the post-Cold War era’ was established as the standard introductory statement to any work in these fields. This paradigm has now been replaced by a new ‘buzzword’, ‘post-11 September’, purportedly heralding the beginning of a new stage in the evaluation of international security and its study. Has the world, and our conception of international relations, changed so dramatically since that fateful, late summer’s day in 2001?. The answer is an ambivalent yes and no. The dramatic change that has occurred is that the most conflictual and violent features of the international system have had direct impact on the core of the ‘West’ and the world’s remaining superpower, the United States. Its response in the form of the ‘war on terror’, the depiction of an ‘axis of evil’, and the campaign against Iraq culminating in ‘regime change’ have indeed transformed the security landscape after Cold War. The United States has embarked on an aggressive policy of redefining its own security concerns which, through its hegemonic role in the international system, has shaken the very foundations of the system and through its predominance dragged many of its members in its wake (to a greater or lesser degree—willingly or unwillingly). Despite the shocking nature of the Al Qaeda attacks on New York and Washington, DC, one has to question whether 11 September actually indicates a novel form of security threat and whether this has elicited a novel form of international security policy in response to it. The victims of 11 September were unarmed civilians; non-combatants going about their daily lives. But they were not the target. The target was the United States and by implication the West, its allies and its interests. The response of the Bush administration has been to change the terminology—and some of the instruments—of security policy but not its focal point, which remains national security. ‘Homeland security’ was initiated

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and institutionalised by way of protecting the physical integrity of the United States and its inhabitants and gave rise to the perception of a new form of national defence against a non-state-based terrorist threat. But national defence remains. It may be distinct from a purely military form of defence, operating as it is against an informal, non-military and non-state based threat and not totally reliant on the armed forces for its success. Nonetheless, while the means may be different, the ends remain the same; the safeguarding of US interests and security through a physical defence of the homeland based on a variety of means. And yet, US security concerns post-11 September are primarily being met in foreign fields far beyond its shores; the first line of defence is to be found in Eurasia, central Asia and the Middle East (not forgetting east and southeast Asia). The war against the Taleban and the continuing US and international presence in Afghanistan was the first step in America’s new international security policy as part of the war on terror. The campaign against Iraq (and potentially other points on the axis of evil) are the subsequent steps in America’s drive to recast the international order to meet its security needs. As a consequence, US perceptions of threats to its own security and its responses have recast international security concerns in its own image. International security is still primarily visualized through threats to the security and integrity of state entities, even though these threats may be emanating from non-traditional actors and sources. The response to these threats is also defined on traditional bases; national defence (in this case in the form of homeland security) and offensive, coercive security policy internationally aiming to maintain stability and to contain—if not eliminate—potential threatening actors. This is not far too distant from the reality of the Cold War period. The perceived threat was of a different order and magnitude but it was met through national defence premised on the nuclear deterrent, and farther afield by NATO and other defensive alliances. The Cold War forward strategy centred on locations like Indochina, the Fulda Gap, Nicaragua or Angola. Today the targets are different but, as then, international security, in Western terms, is still defined by the basic tenets of national security. This article is concerned with a more recent series of security threats, located in southeast Europe, in the interregnum between the end of the Cold War and the post-11 September period. Yugoslavia’s wars, and the threats arising from them, had immense implications in principle and practice for the security policy of the United States and its allies. Arguably, questions of principle, and the protection of humanitarian and ethical standards, were at the vanguard of the justifications for Western policy, especially with regard to Bosnia-Herzegovina and Kosovo. It is argued here that in each and every one of the Western-led international initiatives with respect to Yugoslavia’s wars the primary consideration was the protection and the defence of the West and hence of its

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view of international security. If this encompassed ethical and humanitarian concerns then a double purpose was served. What this shows is that there is an identifiable continuity between the Cold War, the post-Cold War period and post-11 September in terms of evaluating and responding to security threats. Irrespective of the evolution in types of threats and targets of threats, national, and by extension international, security still dominates the agenda. The interests of the nation-state, and the international state system, still form the hierarchy in terms of international security. WHAT SECURITY? The crises and conflicts, real and potential, which have emerged in the Balkans in the last decade—centred on the wars in former Yugoslavia—are multidimensional and can be explained and understood at multiple levels. As noted by one scholar, ‘Any attempt to study security has to face the problem of the seamless web’ (Buzan 1991:187). Balkan security also has to be explained along all its dimensions and at all levels. To address the specifics of the region under consideration, one must initially define certain types of security. There is a burgeoning literature on what constitute the basic premises of post-Cold war security in international affairs.1 For the purposes of this article I have employed six different levels or categories of security. These are individual security, group security, state or national security, regional security, continental security and international security.2 This is neither an exhaustive list, nor are the categories mutually exclusive; there is a great degree of overlap between them.3 Its main value is that it makes possible a breakdown of threats to and breaches of security which have occurred as a result of Balkan crises, and which could do so again in the future.4 Individual security stems from the acceptance of the existence of certain universal, fundamental human rights, which we are entitled to have secured; ‘The individual represents the irreducible basic unit to which the concept of security can be applied.’5 The most basic of these rights is right to life, plus a number of essential political and civil rights. Accordingly, there is a growing acceptance that through emerging universal standards these rights can, and should, be defended or ‘secured’: ‘Contemporary appeals to universal human rights are also relatively unproblematic because they rest on a moral claim that we are all equally human and, as a result, are equally entitled to certain goods, services, opportunities and protections’ (Donnelly 1998:21). Nevertheless, these rights are challenged and violated on a regular basis throughout the international system. This was very much the case during the process of Yugoslavia’s disintegration. There are countless examples of how these rights were violated in the Bosnian war, thus leading to a breach of individual security. The death of any civilian non-combatant

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in the Bosnian war can be characterized as the ultimate violation of the fundamental right to life and hence of individual security. This is also the true in the cases of rape and ethnic cleansing. In the case of the systematic rape of women in Bosnia, the violation of rights, and hence security, is self-evident. In the case of ethnic cleansing, it was not only death but also the creation of vast numbers of refugees, which demonstrated the infraction of basic rights and thus security at the individual level. The same criteria for and description of violations of individual security also apply to Serbian actions in Kosovo prior to and especially during the NATO air campaign. The rights and individual security of individual Kosovar Albanians were openly and often violently flouted. These examples suggest that there is a basic level of security that pertains to the individual and the protection of his/her essential rights. Inevitably, any threat to and breach of security at the group, national/state or international levels will by nature pose a threat to or be in violation of individual security. Group security refers to the security of groups of people at the sub-state or sub-national level. These are groups of people who are, or feel, bound together through a sense of belonging, identity and community, be it ethnic, religious or political.6 It could be that others identify them as a group, making them either a target or even fostering a group mentality. Any threat to the security of such groups is effectively a threat to the individuals who comprise them. But what sets this level apart from that of individual security is that these individuals are not indiscriminately targeted. They become targets as a function of their membership of or affiliation to a real or imagined group. Ethnic and racial minorities, religious groups and even political movements are the most obvious examples of groups at this level: they have inherent rights as a collection of individuals, but they may also have acquired rights as a group. For example, the rights of ethnic minorities, and the extent to which they should be guaranteed and protected, is an increasingly important issue for academics and practitioners alike. In fact, it is increasingly argued that not only have human rights ‘become a (small) part of the post-Cold War calculus of political legitimacy’, but that the defence against genocide ‘is at the core of an emerging post-Cold War minimum standard of civilisation’ (Donnelly 1998:20, 16). The Yugoslav wars, and the general Balkan political scene, point to a variety of examples of threats to group security. The Bosnian Muslims, the Kosovar Albanians, and the Krajina Serbs are all obvious cases of groups whose security has been both threatened and violated in the context of the Yugoslav wars. Beyond the former Yugoslavia, many other, primarily ethnic, groups have or have claimed to have had their rights—and hence their security—threatened or violated. Usually with these groups, their sense of insecurity and any threat to their security is a result of their status as an ethnic minority within a state. Albanians in the

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former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYROM), Greeks in Albania, Muslims in Greece, Turks and Roma in Bulgaria, let alone the Kurds in Turkey are but a small selection of such cases. In the last 10–15 years, to a greater or lesser extent, these ethnic and/or religious groups have felt insecure and, at times, been subjected to harsh treatment. It is at this level of groups that the most identifiable, recent threats to security have taken place in the Balkans.7 National or state security as a category is self-evident. Issues of national security, and the defence of the state, are traditionally viewed as forming the core of international relations. In the last decade, issues of national security in the Balkans have arisen with monotonous regularity. As with elsewhere in the world, Balkan national security issues have been real or perceived, and have included threats to the security of nascent states. The collapse of Yugoslavia could be characterized as consisting of a series of threats to and violations of national security. The move to independence of the breakaway republics of Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovina and FYROM could be portrayed as a massive violation of the national security of the federal Yugoslav state. At least, this was the argument initially put forward by the Yugoslav leadership, Slobodan Milosevic and the higher echelons of the Yugoslav National Army (JNA). This was especially true with respect to Bosnia-Herzegovina after it was recognized by members of the international community in the spring of 1992. The Bosnian Serb resort to arms was presented, by many, as an attack prompted, controlled and maintained by the Serb dominated rump-Yugoslavia on the security and territorial integrity of the independent state of Bosnia.8 While FYROM’s drive to independence was not as violent as those of other seceding republics, the threat emanating from Belgrade was considered real enough to warrant the creation of a preventive peacekeeping force known as UNPREDEP, in December 1992. Initially UNPREDEP was manned by a Nordic contingent, later augmented by the deployment of some 550 US troops. This force, though small and never numbering over 1,500 troops, patrolled the borders between the new Yugoslavia, Albania and FYROM and formed a formidable bulwark and trip-wire.9 FYROM was also at the centre of another much-debated Balkan dispute, which brought a national security threat to the fore in the Balkans. Its turbulent relationship with Greece in the early and mid 1990s derived from a perceived threat to Greek national security. Meanwhile, Greece has had to contend with two other disputes with neighbouring states, Turkey and Albania, which threaten its national security. Relations with the former are structured around disagreements in the Aegean and over Cyprus. With Albania, relations have been strained due to the claims and counter-claims of extremist nationalists in both countries with respect to the status of southern Albania and the northern Greek province of Epirus.

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Another fallout of the Kosovo war which posed direct national security threats to neighbouring states, Albania and FYROM, was the flood of refugees caused by Milosevic’s policies, plus the NATO air campaign. Other Balkan states also have long-standing disputes, which thankfully, have been kept in check throughout the last ten years. These include Bulgaria and Turkey, Romania and Bulgaria, and Bulgaria and Macedonia, all of which have disputes over territory or ethnic minorities. With the unfolding of the Yugoslav wars regional security also became a major issue. Some Western policy-makers feared that a ‘Third Balkan War’, involving a combination of other southeast European states, could become a likely and logical outcome of Yugoslavia’s violent disintegration.10 In the light of the hazardous web of national security threats and counter-threats, it was not difficult to paint a picture in which the Yugoslav wars would lead to a regional war. Yugoslavia’s neighbours were being buffeted by the physical spill-over of war, especially in terms of the vast movements of refugees. More importantly, some of these states were being buffeted by negative economic and political spill-over of Yugoslav conflicts. In the case of Greece, the ‘Macedonian question’ reappeared on the foreign policy agenda and caused intense domestic political problems. The effects of Yugoslavia’s collapse were more intense in relation to those Balkan states which had become recently free from the constraints of communism and were attempting to take their first steps towards democratic and market reforms. Bulgaria and Romania were especially vulnerable to the fallout of war in Yugoslavia. The imposition of mandatory international economic sanctions was politically destabilising and economically debilitating for these two states. The main international preoccupation of the Romanian and Bulgarian governments throughout the 1990s was to build the political and institutional links that would gradually bring them both into the West European and transatlantic process of integration. Future membership in the EU, and NATO, to a great degree, depended on their good international behaviour in addition to meeting the challenges of domestic reform and adapting to the requirements of European institutions. Therefore, when the issue of imposing economic sanctions on Yugoslavia arose, Romania and Bulgaria found themselves in an extremely difficult position. To be seen as ‘good citizens’ and good European neighbours, they had to support the imposition of sanctions. But to do so was detrimental to their economies, as sanctions physically cut them off from the markets of central and western Europe, and deprived them of vast amounts of income traditionally generated by intra-Balkan trade, or the shipment of goods across their territories and along the Danube. The political cost was equally great. They had to deal with publics that did not readily understand and accept the belt-tightening which resulted from the process of economic liberalisation and market reform. Nor did

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they understand the necessity for further economic austerity resulting from the sanctions, even if going along with their imposition was seen as beneficial to the national interest. Moreover, sanctions were primarily targeted at Serbia, more of a traditional ‘friend’ of Bulgaria and Romania than the secessionist Yugoslav states, which made them incomprehensible to many Bulgarians and Romanians. These indirect consequences of the Yugoslav wars intensified fears that these might lead to a wider conflict involving other Balkan states. Therefore, the good of maintaining regional stability and security acquired great urgency. Simultaneously, the containment of the Yugoslav wars within the confines of the borders of former Yugoslavia became a top priority of the ‘international community’. A distinct pattern could be observed in this policy of containing the Yugoslav conflicts which started with the secession of Slovenia and Croatia, and the ensuing wars, and leading up to the conflicts in Bosnia and Kosovo. In each case the primary goal of the ‘international community’ was to limit the potential of the spread of violence because the spread of violence beyond the confines of Yugoslavia would not only threaten regional security but could potentially also threaten the security of the entire European continent (continental security or European security). There was a widespread fear that regional instability would also lead to broader European insecurity. It was feared that such a threat could derive from massive flows of refugees into Austria and Hungary, or worse, Russia’s direct involvement in the Yugoslav conflicts. Russian behaviour, which at times was obstructive, could be explained in light of two sets of factors: the historic Russian-Serbian friendship based on ethnic and religious ties, and the state of Russian-Western relations. Although at the popular level there was great support for Serbia based on ethnic and religious ties, Russian policy towards Serbia was not influenced by these factors to any great degree. Rather, factors such as anger at NATO’s eastward expansion, a sense of humiliation because of dependence on Western loans and aid, the loss of superpower status, and the periodic rise of nationalist sentiments played more important roles. Russia found in the Yugoslav wars the timely opportunity to reassert itself as an equal and important player on the international scene.11 It was the combination of these factors that coloured Russia’s attitude towards the Yugoslav wars, and not some ‘special relationship’ with Serbia based on ethnic and religious affinities. Therefore, it was feared that Russia could become physically entangled in the Yugoslav wars not in support of the Slavic Serbs, but to make a point about the West’s treatment of Russia. Russia would thus ensconce itself in what it saw as its rightful position in the hierarchy of states—especially in relation to what it considered to be its sphere of influence in central and southeast Europe. This inevitably would provide a severe challenge to the maintenance of security on the European continent.

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Ultimately, it is the wish to maintain international security that predominates. It is this wish that impels states to intervene in conflicts such as those erupting from the disintegration of Yugoslavia. And it is the principle of the maintenance of international peace and security, as enshrined in the UN Charter, which enables and allows states to legitimately carry out an interventionary policy. International security is both a concept and a reality. As a concept it emphasizes the benefits to be had by individual nation-states and the state system as a whole from relative peace and stability. As a reality, it concentrates on the need to constantly address and diminish the relative insecurity that exists internationally. Yugoslavia’s bloody demise, as outlined above, spewed forth threats to security at different levels. If these threats are considered cumulatively, what they amount to is a threat to international security both in principle and in practice. The secession of Slovenia and Croatia from federal Yugoslavia posed a challenge to international security both in principle and in practice. The right of secession has always been a controversial issue in international affairs. In principle, it is not always clear which units or entities have this right, and this was very much the case with these two Yugoslav republics. In practice, secession is by and large resisted, as it is a fragmentary process that can have the effect of causing friction in the international system, and can result in conflict. This too was the case in former Yugoslavia. Therefore, the secession of Slovenia and Croatia has to be viewed not only in light of the politics of the dismemberment of Yugoslavia but also in light of the challenge it posed to international security both in principle and in practice. The recognition of Bosnia-Herzegovina also posed a challenge to international security. What emerged from a highly politicised process of determining whether the seceding Yugoslav republics, such as Bosnia, should be recognised by the EC/ EU member states was that there were no clear principles of when and how these emerging states should be granted recognition. The fundamental question here in terms of international security is: When is a state a state, and what are the rights and duties of third parties in granting and/or guaranteeing the rights of this nascent state? The international recognition of Bosnia was arguably the final move in convincing the Bosnian Serb leadership that their aims would only be achieved through the use of force. They thus pursued a conflict launched in the aftermath of the Bosnian referendum on independence, which was a stipulated precondition for international recognition.12 This conflict quickly became a prime threat to international security. Again, international security could be seen to be under threat both in principle and in practice. A third example of a threat posed to international security both in principle and in practice emerges from the Kosovo conflict. When should a minority ethnic group, harboured within the borders of a sovereign state, be defended? That is, when is there just cause for an international intervention on humanitarian grounds

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and under what authority should it be conducted?13 In principle, this is a highly contentious issue in which there are some agreed norms, such as those relating to genocide, but which are applied sporadically and highly selectively. In the case of Kosovo, while there were strong moral and ethical foundations for intervention, the legality of the operation was highly debatable.14 In turn, any intervention in the internal affairs of a sovereign state, especially one that takes the battle to the heart of the target state—as was the case with the air campaign against Serbia—poses a serious threat to international security in practical terms. These three examples provide ample fodder for debate and evidence supporting the argument that any of the other five levels of security outlined above can be construed as a threat to international security. The question still remains as to whose security was pinpointed as needing protection in the Balkans in the past decade. WHOSE SECURITY? What has the West been attempting to achieve through various diplomatic, economic and military incursions into southeast Europe post-1990? The use of the term ‘the West’ is deliberate. The vast majority of policy initiatives with regards to the resolution of recent, or the pre-emption of future, Balkan conflicts, have been developed, promoted and implemented by the US, the states of western Europe and the Western alliance more broadly speaking. It is the Western world, with as its mainstay the Atlantic alliance, which is the flag-bearer, framer and enforcer of the so-called ‘international community’.15 The legacy of the triumph of liberal democracy and market economics over communism, and George Bush Snr’s presumption of ‘a new world order’, has been a system of international security dominated by the interests of the Western states.16 This is particularly true in the Balkan context. As argued above, there have been instances in the Balkan context, in which Western-led international initiatives have addressed humanitarian concerns, and the security of individuals and groups. Bosnia-Herzegovina and Kosovo stand out as examples in which intervention was based on the premise of upholding certain ethical and humanitarian norms with respect to the security of individuals and specific groups; the so-called ‘project of international rescue’ (Wheeler 2000:33). In Bosnia, UNPROFOR was initially deployed solely to provide support for humanitarian relief operations.17 This was not a traditional peacekeeping operation in which ‘blue helmets’ would provide a firebreak, or patrol buffer zones after an agreed cease-fire between warring parties. UNPROFOR was to perform an objective, impartial role in enabling the supply of resources to meet the basic needs of those hundreds of thousands made homeless or fleeing the ravages of a vicious civil war and ethnic cleansing. There was no front line to

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police nor was there a clear mandate for a peacemaking or peace-enforcement operation against one party or another. Western governments found it impossible to ignore the breach being committed to the security of individuals and groups on the European continent, which was being widely publicized through the media and especially on our television screens. Their instinct was still to muddle through; to mediate a cessation of hostilities, freeze the situation on the ground, and then attempt to find some longer-term solution that would bring stability to Bosnia. While the short-term policy impetus emerged from human suffering and the violation of individual and group rights, the long-term view was one of creating the conditions whereby the conflict in Bosnia no longer provided a threat to the security interests of the West. This was particularly true of the US position on Yugoslavia in general, and Bosnia in particular. With the onset of Yugoslavia’s disintegration, the United States, the most powerful and dominant actor in international security matters, took a low-key position. James Baker, the US Secretary of State, intimated to the local leaders in 1991 that the United States, while disapproving, would not use military force to prevent the break-up of Yugoslavia or, to put it more colloquially, ‘we have no dog in this fight’ (Holbrooke 1999:27; see also Gompert 1996:126–7; Holbrooke 1999:26–7; and Woodward 1995:161–2, for Baker’s position in 1991). In American eyes this was a European conflict which should be dealt with by the Western Europeans, especially at a time when they were negotiating the development of a strong and coherent EU Common Foreign and Security Policy, bolstered by premature statements about the arrival of the ‘hour of Europe’. The United States was in the initial stage of ‘post-Iraq American fatigue’ (Holbrooke 1999:26), and was far more apprehensive about developments in the former Soviet Union which could literally provide a direct threat to US security. The Bush administration continued to pursue this line when conflict erupted in Bosnia. The Clinton presidential campaign in 1992 was forced to pay greater attention, if only because human suffering on the ground had touched a raw nerve in some policy-making and Congressional circles, and was beginning to register an impact on general public opinion. Progressively, from 1993 onwards, the Clinton administration increasingly saw the war in Bosnia as a Serbian-perpetrated war of aggression. As this view of the Bosnian war evolved in Washington, there emerged a strong lobby in favour of what became known as the ‘lift and strike’ policy. This would involve lifting the arms embargo on the Bosnian government, allowing it to better defend itself against the perceived Serbian aggressor. This in turn would be followed up by US air-strikes against the Bosnian Serbs, halting their territorial conquests in Bosnia and assisting the Bosnian government’s military campaign. This would also fulfil the desire for a limited US involvement, especially one not necessitating a land force intervention.18

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Despite the increased recognition of the Bosnian problem on the part of the Clinton administration, EU/UN sponsored peace initiatives came and went without much by way of strong US diplomatic support and certainly not military involvement. Arguably, war in Bosnia was still seen as a ‘small conflict in a far away place’, in which the Europeans had the lead with the United States playing a secondary role mainly through the UN Security Council. The Vance-Owen plan for Bosnia confronted the dual force of US reticence for direct involvement in Bosnia and the evolving position which increasingly characterised the Bosnian Serbs (and Serbia in general) as being the aggressor and holding sole responsibility for the horrors witnessed during the conflict. When David Owen attempted to promote the plan he met hostile opposition in Washington from members of the administration, both houses of Congress, and the media. The plan, calling for a ‘cantonisation’ of Bosnia, was considered by many in Washington to be a sell out, and a caving in, in the face of aggression. The plan was rejected by the self-styled Bosnian Serb parliament in Pale after it had been signed, under extreme duress, by the Bosnian Serb leader Radovan Karadzic. The lack of US support for the plan—if not hostility towards it—dealt it a fatal blow.19 It was only in 1995 that the United States would lend its full military and diplomatic might to finding a resolution to the fighting in Bosnia, a situation Warren Christopher would come to refer as ‘the problem from Hell’.20 In the interim it promoted the creation of ‘safe-areas’ for civilians and refugees, airdrops of food supplies, and the implementation of the ‘no fly zone’ over Bosnia (Operation Deny Flight), and initiated a series of more forceful but covert operations (Gow 1997:132–55). Despite the large-scale human suffering occurring in Bosnia—some of it abetted rather than minimized, by the ‘safe areas’, as in the case of the Srebrenica massacre—the United States would not commit its military might to the protection of the security of individuals and groups. Other western states, notably Britain and France, had pursued a more proactive policy, and contributed heavily and effectively to UNPROFOR. British and French lives were being risked in the serious attempt to safeguard the individual and group rights of civilians, victims of war and ethnic cleansing, by escorting and protecting convoys transporting basic necessities and at times people themselves. In their case too, there was no short-term prospect of forceful intervention to create the conditions whereby the security of individuals and groups would be guaranteed. On the one hand, it was clear that a successful military intervention, other than in the form of a UN-authorized peacekeeping mission, could not be accomplished without the full participation of the United States. On the other hand, it was also clear that despite public concern for the victims of the war in Bosnia, London and Paris could not commit themselves to a full-scale military intervention where the security threats to their own interests

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and the interests of the western world were unclear. As long as the war in Bosnia could be contained within the confines of Bosnia itself and not threaten regional security (or continental security for that matter), Britain and France would defend the rights of groups and individuals; but only under the auspices of a UN peacekeeping mission with a restricted mandate. British and French support for the Vance-Owen plan was indicative of their desire to see the codification and implementation of a peace which reflected the complex realities of the ethnic and political situation in Bosnia. From the beginning of Yugoslavia’s decomposition, Britain and France had maintained realistic and pragmatic positions. Initially advocating the maintenance of a single state, they then pursued attempts to forge a peace that would not identify with one or another of the warring parties. To some this seemed to be a pro-Serbian position. In truth, it showed a reluctance to become more deeply involved in a war that was not a direct threat to their primary security interests.21 This was even truer of the American position. While the identification of an enemy, the Serbs, made it relatively easier for the Clinton administration to call for strong military action, there still lacked a focus and consensus to act forcefully. This has been referred to as the ‘triumph of the lack of will’ (Gow 1997). In reality what was lacking was not will, but a strong enough threat to the security interests of the United States, the West, and international security in general to warrant large scale US military intervention.22 The security of individuals and groups was fundamentally and violently violated throughout the Bosnian conflict. It was this aspect of the war that both prompted an initial reaction from the West in the form of a peacekeeping, or military peace support mission, and captured public attention in the western world leading to calls for a more vigorous and effective response. While the possibility existed that the Bosnian war would spill over into a regional confrontation, the western world was on alert. Containment of the conflict was of paramount importance. Any regional confrontation could, in theory, drag in allies such as Italy and Greece, and potential allies and partners such as Austria and Hungary. Containment, nonetheless, neither entailed resolution of the conflict, nor enhanced protection of individual and group security within Bosnia.23 What factors, therefore, transformed US perceptions (and to a lesser extent those of Britain and France), to the extent that military intervention was pursued, culminating in the Dayton Agreement? It certainly was not only the humanitarian case of protecting the rights of individuals and groups. If this had been the real cause then the Western alliance would not have turned a blind eye to the ethnic cleansing perpetrated by the Croatian Army in the Krajina in the summer of 1995. Nor would the architects of the Dayton Peace Plan, the Contact Group under US tutelage, have been satisfied with an agreement that in effect was not too far different from the so-called HMS Invincible package (the ‘Union of the Three

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Republics’ plan), which Owen promoted with his new co-Chairman Thorvald Stoltenberg after the collapse of the Vance-Owen plan (Burg and Shoup 2000:268–81; Owen 1995:185–222; Woodward 1995:310–11). The two plans proposed the same end result: the freezing of the military situation on the ground, the creation of political entities based on that freeze, the establishment of internally ethnically homogenous entities, the institution of a loose federal or confederal structure, and the perpetuation of the myth that the end result would be a single Bosnian state. What impelled NATO, and especially the United States, to act more forcefully was a combination of factors, primarily driven by the fear of humiliation.24 Throughout 1995, Britain and France had increasingly veered towards the withdrawal of its UNPROFOR contingents from Bosnia. Their troops had been subjected to threats and use of force that could not be countered solely under the provisions of the relevant Security Council resolutions pertaining to peacekeeping missions. A British and French Rapid Reaction Force was deployed in Bosnia in July 1995 to defend their colleagues serving under UN colours. Peacekeepers had been taken hostage by Bosnian Serb forces and London and Paris saw no gain by maintaining a vulnerable peacekeeping presence in Bosnia. The US reluctance to commit ground troops in Bosnia was tempered by a commitment to assist in any British/French evacuation from Bosnia under the auspices of NATO. Under NATO OPLAN 40104, the US would have to commit up to an estimated 25,000 troops to provide the defensive and logistics requirement to allow for the safe withdrawal of UNPROFOR. This inevitably would put US troops in the front line, something the administration had wished to avoid from day one of Clinton’s presidency. In addition, there was a strong fear in Washington that while the UU-assisted withdrawal would create a vacuum in Bosnia from which would erupt a renewed sequence of wholesale fighting, its political cost to the United States was deemed to be even higher. Richard Holbrooke is said to have compared the possibility of a US-led NATO operation to cover the withdrawal of UNPROFOR—which in fact would have been NATO’s first ever operation— to the fall of Saigon and the US withdrawal from Vietnam; by any standards an unmitigated political disaster (cited in Williams 1999:379). Apart from the political consequences of a US-led operation, both internally and internationally, it was also feared that this operation would lay the blame for UNPROFOR’s withdrawal squarely at the feet of Washington and ‘make the United States rather than Europe primarily responsible for the Bosnian issue’ (Daalder 2000:60). Therefore, while the US could not easily renege on this commitment, there still existed no security imperative for a full-scale US intervention to push back the Bosnian Serbs. What ensued was the pursuit of a via media. The United States embarked on a vibrant round of diplomacy accompanied by selective American-led NATO air strikes against a variety of Bosnian Serb targets, and

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continued acceptance of the military gains which were being made by the Bosniak and Croatian forces on the ground. What was at stake, in American eyes, was reputation and the coherence of the Western alliance. European attempts to reach diplomatic solutions to the Bosnian war had not succeeded. While the United States often questioned the effectiveness of EU foreign policy, be it under the guise of EPC or CFSP, it could not stand back and see the credibility of its major trading partner and ally totally undermined. The credibility and coherence of NATO, as the major international alliance and defender of the new post-Cold War international order, was another major consideration, as was the credibility and power to effect change of the United States itself, as the sole remaining superpower and defender of western interests. As a result, the United States and NATO intervened—three years after conflict had broken out in Bosnia—to safeguard the security and interests of the western world as perceived in Washington. An extremely important by-product was the cessation of hostilities that had led to the massive violation of individual and group rights within Bosnia. At Dayton, aggression was rewarded. In name, the new state of Bosnia and Herzegovina would be a single federation. In practice, it comprised two distinct ‘entities’, that of the Bosniak-Croat Federation and the Serb Republic (Republika Srpska), a division that legalized the ethnic divides; the result of so much bloodshed. The Bosnian Serb ‘entity’ was granted 49 per cent of Bosnian territory, even though according to western leaders the Bosnian Serbs had perpetrated a war of aggression and ethnic cleansing, and much of its leadership had been or would be indicted for war crimes and crimes against humanity. Decisive western intervention only took place when it was deemed that western security interests were at stake either in terms of national or international security. The western-led international response to Bosnia, had shown that while individual and group security were accorded some recognition internationally—and hence action was taken in the form of diplomacy and peacekeeping—it was only when national, European or international security was perceived to be threatened that more effective measures were taken. The same could be argued with respect to Kosovo, the other major Balkan crisis that prompted western intervention. While the ‘international community’ was embroiled in the Bosnian wars until December 1995, little or no attention was given to the possibility of serious unrest in Kosovo. The symbolic importance of Kosovo in Serbian nationalist mythology has been well chronicled, as has the significance of Kosovo to Milosevic’s rise to power. With the signing of the Dayton Accords it was Kosovo’s turn to provide the next instalment of Yugoslavia’s wars, and with it the next chapter in western intervention in the Balkans. Kosovo’s problems were kept off the agenda of the Dayton talks. Many Kosovar Albanians thus felt a sense of betrayal with the international community’s inaction

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with respect to their situation. From 1996 onwards, the policy of passive resistance against the Serbian government, which had been led by the moderate Ibrahim Rugova, was progressively undermined by growing support for the Kosovo Liberation Army’s (KLA) calls for confrontation. Attacks against Serbian policemen and others were met by Serbian reprisals, and by early 1998 the outside world realized that a crisis was imminent. In February 1998, the United States’ special representative to the region referred to the KLA as terrorists, suggesting that the Serbian authorities had a right to respond to provocation through the use of force in what was ultimately an internal issue within Yugoslavia.25 Dialogue between the moderate Kosovar Albanian leadership and the Yugoslav authorities was encouraged in an attempt to find a solution which would grant Kosovo a degree of autonomy short of independence. This would in turn undermine the armed campaign, which was now openly underway by the KLA. Despite these proposals and the threat both of economic sanctions and military intervention against the Milosevic regime, fighting in Kosovo was constantly escalating. By the summer of 1998, the Yugoslav Army (VJ) was openly operating against the KLA especially in the countryside and in villages that were said to harbour KLA ‘terrorists’. By September 1998 the scale of fighting was such that the UN Security Council passed Resolution 1199 demanding an immediate cease-fire. This was accompanied by a threat of international intervention against Serbia as a follow up to a threat of NATO aerial bombardment which had been issued in June. Under great pressure, Milosevic agreed to withdraw up to 4,000 Serbian Special Police troops from Kosovo and allow a 2,000 strong OSCE force, the Kosovo Verification Mission (KVM), to verify the withdrawal.26 The gradual withdrawal of these forces did not have the expected calming effect. The KLA, sensing the implicit support of the western world, continued to step up its armed campaign. Milosevic, emboldened by the US definition of the KLA as terrorists and his belief that the West would not intervene in what in effect were the internal affairs of a sovereign state, continued to meet fire with fire. In January 1999, the bodies of 45 Kosovar Albanians, said to have been massacred by Serbs near the village of Racak, were discovered. Violence spiralled, resulting in an international ultimatum to both sides in the dispute and the convening of the Rambouillet peace talks. These talks were conducted under the aegis of the reconvened Contact Group, which had been so heavily involved in the Bosnian end game, and was chaired by Britain and France, while including a strong US input. The western world was in a quandary. Human rights—the individual and group rights of the Kosovar Albanians—were being openly violated. There was a strong case for direct intervention against the Milosevic regime in defence of these rights, especially at a time when the western world and especially the governments of the United Kingdom and the United States

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were championing the ethical dimension to their foreign policies. Nevertheless, Kosovo was part of sovereign Yugoslavia, the KLA had adopted a provocative armed effort, and the containment of the conflict within Kosovo in the name of maintaining regional security were of paramount importance.27 Initially, neither the Kosovar Albanians nor the Yugoslavs wished to sign the Rambouillet Agreement. To the former the agreement fell far short of immediate independence, promising only a NATO-led oversee of extensive autonomy. To the latter both the promise of any degree of autonomy and the presence of foreign troops on Yugoslav soil proved totally unacceptable. While a highly divided Albanian delegation finally agreed to the proposals on 15 March 1999, Yugoslavia found them unacceptable.28 The Western world could either now carry out its threat of intervention or face humiliation. The situation was reminiscent of the Bosnian case in mid-1995. What was at stake were not only the individual and group rights of the Kosovar Albanians. The credibility and coherence of the Western alliance, and hence the national interests of the western states were at stake and had to be protected. The resulting paradox was that NATO embarked upon a 78-day campaign of aerial bombardment against Serbian forces and positions in Kosovo, and against Serbia itself, but this aerial intervention led to the fully-blown Serbian drive to depopulate Kosovo of its Albanian population. By the end of the bombing campaign on 9 June 1999, nearly one million ethnic Albanians refugees were displaced either internally or externally. This amounted to a large proportion of the pre-conflict Kosovar Albanian population. The air campaign obviously failed to put an end to Milosevic’s tactic of attacking the KLA and arguably resulted in his strategy of the forced expulsion of Kosovo’s Albanian population, and NATO sought recourse in the threat of a ground campaign, which it had for so long attempted to avoid.29 The preparations for a ground invasion were adequately threatening to coerce Milosevic into accepting a cease-fire. Yugoslav withdrawal from Kosovo was finalized by the Kumanovo Military-Technical Agreement on 9 June, and was reinforced by the reinvocation of the Rambouillet plan and UN Security Council Resolution 1244 dealing with political and constitutional issues. All Serb military and paramilitary units would withdraw from Kosovo. An international military force would police the Kumanovo agreement and the protectorate created by the UNSCR 1244. An international civilian agency, the ‘interim administration’ would govern Kosovo pending a final resolution to the conflict. In principle, Kosovo would remain an integral part of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. In practice, and by intention, it became an international protectorate. The Kosovar Albanians were granted a degree of self-government, a concession that fell far short of their demands for independence.

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As with the Dayton Accords, the Kosovo peace deal provided a cessation of hostilities and a freezing of the situation on the ground. Refugees were repatriated from neighbouring Albania and the FYROM, and those internally displaced were returned to their homes. But humanitarian concerns, and concerns with the security of individuals and groups, had again taken second place to the bigger concerns of national and international security as perceived by the Western powers.30 The United States and its NATO allies faced total humiliation if they backed down from the challenge posed by Milosevic’s actions. While the air campaign may have been prompted by the policy of violence conducted against Kosovar Albanians and especially the KLA, it was not unleashed until almost 18 months after unrest in Kosovo became apparent. There was almost one year of diplomatic activity by the international community, including the insertion of the KVM and the Rambouillet conference, before the use of force. Arguably, this could be depicted as attempting to ‘give diplomacy a chance’, as part of a patient and coherent strategy at meeting the Serbian challenge. But it also indicates the lack of a direct security threat to the state interests of the West, and its version of international security, which arrested NATO from taking forceful action at a much earlier stage and in a more decisive fashion. As with Bosnia, the primary concern until March 1999 was the containment of the conflict within the confines of Kosovo. Subsequently, the coherence and credibility of NATO became of paramount importance, and compelled the western powers to intervene.31 Once the West was locked into war, which may have had as its origins humanitarian concerns, the strategic interests so clearly mapped out by Prime Minister Blair in his parliamentary statement came to the fore and captured the whole policy. It was only then that the decisive step to contemplate and threaten an effective form of intervention on the ground was taken. CONCLUSION The conflicts in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Kosovo have provided the western world with their biggest European challenges to post-Cold War international order. In both instances humanitarian concerns at the individual and group security levels provoked an earnest but ineffectual response from the western-led international community. In both instances, individual and group security, and to a lesser extent regional security, were subordinated to the demands of continental and international security. Only when the national security interests of the West (and especially the United States), were threatened either through the possible loss of prestige and leadership, or ruptures in alliance coherence and credibility, was forceful intervention undertaken. Strong, purposeful action, therefore, only took place when a threat to a ‘higher level’ of security was perceived.

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In effect, the six levels of security discussed above—in relation to Yugoslavia —form a hierarchy. This hierarchy functions from the top down, rather than from the bottom up. The top level is that of international security followed by continental, regional, national, group and individual security. The key step in the hierarchy is national security. If, as in the case of Bosnia and Kosovo, the West does not see a threat to its national security interests, then it will act in a less decisive and forceful manner, especially with regard to issues of individual and group security. When national security broadly defined is considered under threat this can then trigger a response which moves up the hierarchy and transforms the threat into one of grave international significance demanding forceful intervention. Realpolitik, rather than moralpolttik,32 is still a dominant motivating force of the more internationally active Western states, especially the United States, Great Britain and France. Despite the rising importance of humanitarian issues in the foreign policies of these states, there still remains a vast gulf between the rhetoric employed by their respective leadership and their actions abroad. Intervention to defend individual and group security has been, and will continue to be, a selective enterprise for the foreseeable future. So called humanitarian intervention is still a function of the national interests of realist-motivated foreign policy. The ‘international community’ took the fight to Saddam Hussein, in 1991, as vital Western economic interests were at stake and there existed an identified and defeatable enemy. The same ‘international community’ stood back and watched Russia’s treatment of Chechnya as no real national interests were at stake and intervention against Russia was not a realistic military option. In the cases of Bosnia and Kosovo, the ‘international community’ intervened ineffectually when individual and group rights were breached, while effective military intervention took place only when certain western interests were at stake. As one author’s depiction of this situation suggests, ‘the best we can hope for is a happy coincidence where the promotion of national security also defends human rights’.33 There may be nothing wrong in this, but it sits uneasily with the ‘thick’ moralising, interventionist tone adopted by the protagonists of western leadership. This is particularly true of Tony Blair and his first foreign secretary, Robin Cook, who had launched the idea of foreign policy with an ‘ethical dimension’. Come the spring of 1999, at the height of the Kosovo campaign, perhaps some of the lessons of Britain’s Balkan policies began to become apparent. Speaking in the United States, Prime Minister Blair made it clear that the ‘ethical dimension’ to foreign policy so loudly trumpeted a year before had to be muted. It would be replaced with an acceptance that ‘our actions are guided by a more subtle blend of mutual self interest and moral purpose in defending the values we cherish. In the end values and interests merge’ (Blair 1999a).

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I would like to thank Professors Christopher Hill, William Wallace and Susan Woodward for their encouraging, constructive commentary on earlier versions of this essay. NOTES 1. Some of the more stimulating examples of this literature are Buzan 1991; Buzan, Waever and de Wilde 1998; Matthews 1989; Rothschild 1995; Ullman 1995; see also Baldwin 1995. 2. This is not meant to be a novel typology, but rather is derived from broader formulations of the range of concepts of security in the post-Cold war world such as Buzan Waever and de Wilde 1998. This book challenges the ‘primacy of the military element and the state in the conceptualization of security’, and divides the world up into the ‘wideners’ of the security debate and the traditionalists who maintain an ‘old military and state-centred view’ of security (p. 1). Indeed the authors state that new security considerations can be divided up into ‘military, political, economic, environmental and societal’ (p. vii). This builds on Buzan’s earlier work (1991:1, 14)in which he invokes the categories of ‘individual, national and international’ security, and suggests that there is no ‘consensus’ of what wider conceptions of security should resemble. 3. One could add environmental, economic and global security to this list; see, for example, Dyer 2001; Cable 1995; Rogers 2000. 4. It also enables the marriage of the theoretical elements of ‘new security’ to a concrete set of examples, in this case set in southeast Europe, of which there is a paucity. 5. Buzan 1991:35. Or, as noted by Vincent, ‘human rights are the rights that everybody should have by virtue of his or her humanity’ (1991:111). 6. A variant of this formulation defines a similar category as that of ‘societal security’, in which the ‘referent objects’ are seen as ‘tribes, clans, nations, civilisations, religions and race’ (Buzan, Waever and de Wilde 1998:119–20, 123). 7. There is a general trend to ascribe ethnic/nationalist origins to the vast majority of the tensions and conflicts in southeast Europe. One notable exception to this rule is Mueller 2000. 8. This issue is an interesting one and one of immense contemporary relevance if viewed in conjunction with some of the allegations made against Slobodan Milosevic in his indictment by the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia. A key point in the indictment attempts to link Milosevic to the war in Bosnia. It asserts that he ‘exercised effective control or substantial influence’ over the Bosnian Serb leadership, and other alleged perpetrators of crimes, in what is called the ‘joint criminal enterprise’, and hence should be considered equally responsible, and culpable, for crimes committed in Bosnia. In effect, this part of the indictment reinforces the opinion that the involvement of Milosevic, as the

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9. 10. 11. 12.

13.

14.

15. 16. 17.

18.

19.

20. 21.

22.

‘dominant political figure’ in Serbia and subsequently Yugoslavia was indeed a foreign intervention into the affairs of a sovereign, independent state. See ICTY 2001, especially paragraphs 23, 24 and 25. For a good account of UNPREDEP and its role in conflict prevention see Clement 1997; see also Berdal 1993:18.. Some would argue that the wars of Yugoslavia’s collapse were in fact the ‘third Balkan War’. For example, see Glenny 1996. For a broader account of Russia’s relations with the Western alliance see Dannreuther 1999–2000; see also Haslam 1998. For the specifics of the Bosnian case and an explanation of the importance of international recognition to the development of Yugoslavia’s wars, see Woodward 1995. The two best sources which provide definitions, typologies and case studies of humanitarian intervention are Ramsbotham and Woodhouse 1996 and Wheeler 2000. See also Garrett 1999., The issues and positions relating to the ‘morality’ versus ‘legality’ debate with respect to NATO’s intervention in Kosovo are best set out in Guicherd 1999 and Roberts 1999. Or, as more starkly put, ‘to invoke the security of NATO is little from invoking that of the West’ (Buzan, Waever and de Wilde 1998:55). For a powerful and evocative argument on the need to reconstruct liberal internationalism to cope with the stresses of the post-1989 era, see Hoffman 1995. This phase of the operation has been referred to as ‘military peace support’ (see Gow 1994:15). This is further developed in Gow 1997:108–18. See also Berdal 1993:21, 28. This was the beginning of what some have called the ‘Clinton Doctrine’. The clearest, brief, exposition of this doctrine is in Ikenberry 2000:87. Ikenberry writes that as part of this doctrine, ‘the United States cannot respond to all humanitarian disasters and human rights transgressions, but that it will use its power and good offices if doing so will make a difference and the costs are acceptable’. Much has been written about the Vance—Owen Peace Plan. Lord Owen’s account of it, and the diplomacy surrounding it, provides the most breadth and depth (Owen 1995: 89–184). For a more dispassionate account, see Burg and Shoup 2000 214– 63. Warren Christopher, cited in Daalder 2000:83. For a recent trenchant attack on British policy towards Bosnia see Simms 2001. Simms characterises the British Conservative government in power during the Bosnian War both as ‘hyper-realists’ (2001:2), and as suffering from ‘conservative pessimism’ (2001:xi). Others lay the blame on ‘false premises, faulty analyses and wishful thinking [rather] than in amoral intent or lack of will’ (Glitman 1996–1997:66–7). In a more caustic indictment one journalist pinned extra blame on President Clinton himself, ‘whose pronouncements on Bosnia came to resemble a church spire weathercock spinning in a hurricane’ (Vulliamy 1998:82).

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23. An extreme version of this explanation is to be found in Vulliamy 1998:75. Here, as the subtitle of his article highlights, Vulliamy accuses the leaders of the West of appeasement in a particularly graphic manner: ‘Appeasement is a pejorative and historically tendentious term but it seems a good enough word to describe three years of diplomat-to-diplomat barter between the leaders of t he democratic West and Radovan Karadzic—now a fugitive wanted for genocide—beneath the chandeliers of London, Geneva, and New York’. 24. At a meeting at the Oval Office including the main foreign policy actors in the Clinton administration, the President is said to have remarked that, ‘the United States can’t be a punching bag in the world anymore’ (Daalder 2000:73). Also cited in Daalder is a memorandum from Anthony Lake, the national security adviser, to the President, emphasising that he was ‘really worried that Bosnia will again come to be the definition of American foreign policy and obscure all other things that we have done’ (Daalder 2000:84). For a variant of this argument see Woodward 1998:44 25. Robert Gelbard’s exact comment was ‘We condemn the very strong terrorist actions in Kosovo. The UCK (KLA) is, without any questions, a terrorist group’ (Judah 2000: 138). Judah also presents the clearest and most prescient account of the rise of the KLA and the onset of the troubles in Kosovo. 26. Judah 2000:187–96. For a good general account of the diplomacy surrounding the rising tension on Kosovo in 1998, see Caplan 1998. 27. One author (Bell 2000:450–52, 455–7) has made the argument that the whole intervention in Kosovo was ‘norm driven’ rather than ‘interest driven’. She argues that in fact the major consideration for the West was between preventing a humanitarian catastrophe in Kosovo, and protecting the sovereign rights of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. This she characterizes as a war of norms. Even though I argue that western interests were a hugely significant factor in deciding the timing and nature of the intervention, the author does make an interesting and subtle argument. The clash between humanitarian values and sovereign rights is also at the core of an argument put forward by Michael Mandelbaum. He is adamant that the West’s intervention in Kosovo was driven on by humanitarian norms: ‘NATO waged the war not for its interests but on behalf of its values. The supreme goal was the well-being of the Albanian Kosovars’. But he goes on to argue that the nature of the initial intervention, that is the air campaign, not only did not uphold the humanitarian norm, but also damaged the norm of sovereign rights of states by furthering the cause of Kosovar Albanian independence, which had been actively opposed by the West (Mandelbaum 1999:3, 5). 28. The best account of the Rambouillet process is Weller 1999. 29. For all the inter-alliance politics surrounding the debates on whether to conduct a ground campaign, and for a general overview of the politics and military action of NATO’s military intervention in Kosovo, see the rather self-serving account in Clark 2001. The general debates surrounding the effectiveness, or not, of air power in the context of the Kosovo war are best outlined and explained in Byman and Waxman 2000.

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30. For a watered down version of this, see Mayall 2000:320–21. 31. British Prime Minister Tony Blair made perhaps the most interesting attempt to explain the interplay between values and interests in western policy towards Kosovo in his statement to the House of Commons on the eve of the bombing campaign. He set out the basic rationale for intervention as being to ‘primarily avert what would otherwise be a humanitarian disaster in Kosovo’, and further on states that ‘to walk away now would not merely destroy NATO’s credibility; more importantly, it would be a breach of faith with thousand of innocent civilians whose only desire is to live in peace, and who took as at our word’. Yet sandwiched between these humanitarian grounds for intervention are also to be found a catalogue of interests which are at stake: ‘We act also because we know from bitter experience throughout this century, most recently in Bosnia, that instability and civil war in one part of the Balkans inevitably spills over into the whole of it, and affects the rest of Europe too... If Kosovo was left to the mercy of Serbian repression, there is not merely the risk, but the probability of reigniting unrest in Albania, of a destabilised Macedonia, of almost certain knock-on effects ion Bosnia, and of further tension between Greece and Turkey. Strategic interests for the whole of Europe are at stake. We cannot contemplate, on the doorstep of the EU, a disintegration into chaos and disorder’ (Blair 1999b). 32. This is a term employed to describe and defend ‘the advisability of forceful intervention on humanitarian grounds in Emmerson 1999–2000. 33. Wheeler 2000:30.

REFERENCES Baldwin, David (1995): ‘Security Studies and the End of the Cold War’, World Politics 48/ 1, pp. 117–42 Bell, Coral (2000): ‘Force, Diplomacy and Norms’in Albrecht Schnabel and Ramesh Thakur, eds, Kosovo and the Challenge of Humanitarian Intervention: Selective Indignation, Collective Action, and International Citizenship, Tokyo: United Nations University, pp. 448–62. Berdal, Mats (1993): Wither UN Peacekeeping?Adelphi Paper No. 281, London: Brassey’s for the IISS. Blair, Tony (1999a): ‘Doctrine of the International Community’, Speech to the Economic Club of Chicago, Hilton Hotel, Chicago, 22 April 1999, available at . Blair, Tony (1999b): ‘Statement on Kosovo’, Hansard, HC (series 5) 328, cols 162–3, 23 March 1999, available at . Burg, Steven L. and Paul S.Shoup (2000): The War in Bosnia-Herzegovina: Ethnic Conflict and International Intervention, Armonk, NY: M.E.Sharpe. Buzan, Barry (1991): People, States and Fear: An Agenda for International Security Studies in the Post-Cold War Era, London: Harvester Wheatsheaf.

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Buzan, Barry, Ole Waever and Tim de Wilde (1998): Security: A New Framework for Analysis, Boulder, CO: Lynn Rienner. By man, Daniel L. and Matthew C.Waxman (2000): ‘Kosovo and the Great Air Power Debate’, International Security 24/4, pp. 5–38. Cable, Vincent (1995): ‘What is International Economic Security?’, International Affairs 71/2, pp. 305–24. Caplan, Richard (1998): ‘International Diplomacy and the Crisis in Kosovo’, International Affairs 74/4, pp. 745–61. Clark, Wesley K. (2001): Waging Modern War: Bosnia, Kosovo and the Future of Combat, New York: Public Affairs. Clement, Sophia (1997): Conflict Prevention in the Balkans: Case Studies of Kosovo and the FYR of Macedonia, Chaillot Paper No. 30, Paris: Institute for Security Studies of WEU. Daalder, Ivo H. (2000): Getting to Dayton: The Making of America’s Bosnia Policy, Washington, DC: The Brookings Institution Press. Daalder, Ivo H. and Michael E.O’Hanlon, Winning Ugly: NATO’s War to Save Kosovo, Washington, DC: The Brookings Institution Press. Dannreuther, Roland (1999–2000):‘Escaping the Enlargement Trap in NATO-Russian Relations’, Survival 41/4, pp. 145–64. Donnelly, Jack (1998): ‘Human Rights: A New Standard of Civilization’, International Affairs 74/1, pp. 1–24. Dyer, Hugh (2001): ‘Environmental Security and International Relations: The Case for Enclosure’, Review of International Studies 27/3, pp. 441–50. Emmerson, Donald K. (1999–2000): ‘Moralpolitik: The Timor Test’, The National Interest 58, pp. 63–8. Garrett, Stephen A. (1999): Doing Good and Doing Well: An Examination of Humanitarian Intervention, Westport, CN: Praeger. Glenny, Misha (1996): The Fall of Yugoslavia: The Third Balkan War, 3rd ed., London: Penguin. Glitman, Maynard (1996–1997): ‘US Policy in Bosnia: Rethinking a Flawed Approach’, Survival 38/4, pp. 66–83. Gompert, David C. (1996): ‘The United States and Yugoslavia’s Wars’, in Richard H. Ullman, ed., The World and Yugoslavia’s Wars, New York: The Council on Foreign Relations, pp. 122–45. Gow, James (1994): ‘Nervous Bunnies: The International Community and the Yugoslav War of Dissolution’, in Lawrence Freedman, ed., Military Intervention in European Conflicts, Oxford: Blackwell and Political Quarterly Publishing, pp. 14–33. Gow, James (1997): Triumph of the Lack of Will: International Diplomacy and the Yugoslav War, London: Hurst and Co. Guicherd, Catherine (1999): ‘International Law and the War in Kosovo’, Survival 41/2, pp. 19–34. Haslam, Jonathan (1998): ‘Russia’s Seat at the Table: A Place Denied or a Place Delayed’, International Affairs 74/1, pp. 119–30. Hoffman, Stanley (1995): ‘The Crisis of Liberal Internationalism’, Foreign Policy 98, pp. 159–77.

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Holbrooke, Richard (1999): To End a War, New York: Modern Library. ICTY (2001): Indictment against Slobodan Milosevic, Case No. IT-01-51-I, available at . Ikenberry, G.John (2000): ‘The Cost of Victory: American Power and the Use of Force in the Contemporary Order’, in Albrecht Schnabeland Ramesh Thakur, eds, Kosovo and the Challenge of Humanitarian Intervention: Selective Indignation, Collective Action, and International Citizenship, Tokyo: United Nations University, pp. 85–100. Judah, Tim (2000): Kosovo: War and Revenge, London: Yale University Press. Mandelbaum, Michael (1999): ‘A Perfect Failure: NATO’s War Against Yugoslavia’, Foreign Affairs 78/5, pp. 2–8. Matthews, Jessica (1989): ‘Redefining Security’, Foreign Affairs 68/2, pp. 162–77. Mayall, James (2000): ‘The Concept of Humanitarian Intervention Revisited’, in Albrecht Schnabeland Ramesh Thakur, eds, Kosofo and the Challenge of Humanitarian Intervention: Selective Indignation, Collective Action, and International Citizenship, Tokyo: United Nations University, pp. 319–33. Mueller, John (2000): ‘The Banality of “Ethnic War”’, International Security 25/1, pp. 42– 70. Owen, David (1995): Balkan Odyssey, New York: Harcourt Brace & Company. Ramsbotham, Oliver and Tom Woodhouse (1996): Humanitarian Intervention in Contemporary Conflict: A Reconceptualization, Cambridge: Polity Press. Roberts, Adam (1999): ‘NATO’s “Humanitarian War” over Kosovo’, Survival 41/3, pp. 104–9. Rogers, Paul (2000): Losing Control: Global Security in the Twenty First Century, London : Pluto Press. Rothschild, Emma (1995): ‘What is Security’, Daedalus 124/3, pp. 53–98. Simms, Brendan (2001): Unfinest Hour: Britain and the Deconstruction of Bosnia, London: Allen Lane. Ullman, Richard H. (1995): ‘Redefining Security’, in Sean M.Lynn-Jones and Steven E. Miller, eds, Global Dangers: Changing Dimensions of International Security, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, pp. 15–39. Vincent, R.J. (1991): Human Rights in International Relations, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press with the RIIA. Vulliamy, Ed (1998): ‘Bosnia: The Crime of Appeasement’, International Affairs 74/1, pp. 73–92. Weller, Marc (1999): ‘The Rambouillet Conference on Kosovo’, International Affairs 75/ 2, pp. 211–51. Wheeler, Nichola J. (2000): Saving Strangers: Humanitarian Intervention in International Society, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Williams, Michael C. (1999): ‘Perceptions of the War in Bosnia’, International Affairs 75/ 2, pp. 377–82. Woodward, Susan (1998): ‘The US Perspective: Transition Postponed’, in Sophia Clement, ed., The Issues raised by Bosnia and the Transatlantic Debate, Chaillot Paper 32, Paris: Institute for Security Studies of WEU, pp. 45–54.

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Woodward, Susan L. (1995): Balkan Tragedy: Chaos and Dissolution after the Cold War, Washington, DC: The Brookings Institution.

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The Evolving Security Concern in the Black Sea Economic Cooperation

IOANNIS STRIBIS

INTRODUCTION The end of the Cold War was marked by a renewed interest in regional and sub-regional cooperation leading to the emergence of new regional arrangements and organizations. In 1992 11 states of the wider Black Sea area1 launched their regional experience, establishing the Black Sea Economic Cooperation (BSEC) as an informal and flexible forum of cooperation with the ambitious aims to achieve further development and diversification of their bilateral and multilateral co-operation, to foster their economic, technological and social progress, and to encourage a market economy and free enterprise (BSEC 1992b:3). A few years later the participating states acknowledged that in order to attain its goals BSEC should be endowed with permanent institutions2 and therefore decided to transform the BSEC initiative into a fully fledged international organization, with an international legal personality. To this effect they negotiated and signed the founding treaty, the Charter of the Organization of the Black Sea Economic Cooperation, in Yalta on 5 June 1998. The charter entered into force on 1 May 1999. This essay addresses the question of the security ‘ability’ of the BSEC, especially after 11 September. In doing so the focus is put on the documentation and study of the statutory provisions and other legally binding texts (unilateral BSEC acts, international agreements concluded in the BSEC framework) that set up the institutional and legal capacity of the BSEC’s involvement in security matters. Awareness of the BSEC’s functions and actual working methods is a prerequisite for understanding the route followed by the organization in its efforts to grasp security issues. A more compelling reason for the method chosen stems from the character of the BSEC as an economic institution. This feature requires systematic examination and documentation of the institutional and legal prospects of the organization to get involved in security issues, in the absence of authorization in the constitutive and other legally binding documents. This approach facilitates

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the presentation of the gradual extension of the BSEC’s reach in security issues in parallel with the ongoing argument over the legal permissibility of such expansion of the organization’s functions as well as over its scope and limits. When addressing the question of what BSEC has achieved in the sphere of security, one has to recognize that a great deal of the BSEC’s contribution rests upon the cultivation of a climate of trust, understanding and dialogue among its eleven members. In a region marked with unrest and insecurity, the BSEC’s role as a confidence-building mechanism should be thus highlighted. This essay elaborates also the way in which core security concerns have come to be included in the BSEC agenda. Although the BSEC has a clear economic orientation as an organization, the present article argues that despite its explicit aim in promoting regional stability through economic cooperation, recent developments in the BSEC framework have introduced issues related to security concerns. Perhaps the first more important initiative in this direction has been the adoption of soft security measures of combating organized crime. The main tool in this policy shift has been the adoption of legally binding agreements providing for the material and the institutional framework for cooperation in this area. It was not until the 11 September attacks in the United States and their aftermath that core security issues, including the fight against international terrorism, appeared in the BSEC’s cooperative mechanisms, nourishing a debate over the political and legal margins of such an endeavour. SECURITY CONCERNS: THE BSEC ‘METHOD’— SECURITY THROUGH ECONOMIC COOPERATION Charter of the BSEC The organization of the Black Sea Economic Cooperation is defined in Art.l of its charter as ‘a regional economic organization’. By this statutory provision the policy options of the early years of the BSEC has been vested with a legally binding character. This fundamental orientation of the organization is further elaborated in the enumeration of the principles and objectives of the BSEC (charter, art. 3) as well as in the list of the areas of cooperation fostered by the organization (charter, art. 4). Suffice it to note that throughout the operational part of the charter there is no reference whatsoever to security issues, which is not surprising taking into account the main premise on which the BSEC was established. However, the member states could not have been unaware of the ‘strategic location’ (BSEC 1998c:19) within which the BSEC operates and its associated important security and stability questions in the region. Although not present in the operational part

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of the BSEC Charter, such concerns filter through its preamble, wherein some minor references to security or related notions (peace and stability) do appear. In particular, the signatories of the charter highlight in the preamble (par. 9) ‘the common vision of their regional cooperation as a part of the integration process in Europe, based on human rights and fundamental freedoms, prosperity through economic liberty, social justice, and equal security and stability which is open for interaction with other countries, regional initiatives and international organizations and financial institutions’ (BSEC 1998d:3, emphasis added). Furthermore, its members ‘express the desire of their countries and peoples for constructive and fruitful collaboration in wide ranging fields of economic activity with the aim of turning the BSEC Region into one of peace, stability and prosperity’ (preamble, par. 11) (ibid., emphasis added). Summit Declarations With respect to the aforementioned references to security and stability, the preamble of the BSEC Charter did not enter in unknown territory: previous documents of the BSEC initiative establish a more or less direct link between regional economic cooperation and security issues. The references go back to the Summit Declaration on Black Sea Economic Cooperation (Istanbul, 25 June 1992), which marks the official launch of the BSEC. In this seminal document the founding fathers of the BSEC ‘recognizfed] that a prosperous and united Europe will evolve on shared values such as democracy based on human rights and fundamental freedoms, prosperity through economic liberty and social justice, and equal security for all countries’ (BSEC 1992b:3, emphasis added). In this connection they further ‘confirm[ed] the intention to develop economic cooperation as a contribution to the CSCE process’3 with the ‘aim to ensure that the Black Sea becomes a sea of peace, stability and prosperity, striving to promote friendly and good-neighborly relations’.4 These initial pronouncements indicate that in the mind of the BSEC’s founders, economic cooperation was considered as the prime aim of the newly established regional initiative. At the same time this key goal was recognized also as a means for enhancing the security situation in the Black Sea area. In this context, security was therefore addressed indirectly in the sense that regional economic cooperation can avert or settle conflicts, while there was by no means mention to fighting against an actual threat. This initial indirect approach over security issues is confirmed in the subsequent summit declarations. In their Moscow Summit Declaration (25 October 1996), the heads of state or government of the BSEC participating states, after ‘expressing the desire of their countries and peoples for constructive and fruitful mutual cooperation in various fields of human activity with the aim of making the Black

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Sea region a zone of peace, stability and economic prosperity’ (BSEC 1996b:ix) and their ‘support [to] the efforts to provide peace and stability in Europe’ (ibid.:x), they elaborated in some detail the doctrine of security and stability in the Black Sea region through developing economic cooperation within the BSEC framework. In ch. 3 of the declaration, entitled Regional Stability, the member states view[ed] the economic cooperation and partnership as the cornerstone of lasting regional stability and as a practical mechanism of reducing the political risks and preventing destabilization. They agree[d] upon the necessity of joint efforts to ensure stability in the region and they attach [ed] special importance to the adoption of urgent concrete measures for combating organized crime, violence, terrorism, illicit drugs weapons and radioactive materials trafficking, and illegal migration, etc. (ibid.: 12) In this statement, the participating states presented, in a condensed manner, the BSEC vision on economic cooperation, security and stability, thus establishing the relationship among these concepts for BSEC purposes. Furthermore, they announced the practical steps to be taken in order to implement this relationship, through concrete measures generally labeled ‘soft security measures’. The policy of economic cooperation that leads to security and stability in the region has been positively appraised in the Yalta Summit Declaration (adopted immediately after the signature of the BSEC Charter on 5 June 1998), where the BSEC members declared their mutual conviction ‘that the considerable progress achieved in the multilateral economic cooperation contributes to enhancing peace, stability and security to the benefit of our countries’ (BSEC 1998c:19 [par.1]). The same assessment was proclaimed in the Istanbul Summit Declaration (17 November 1999). On that occasion the aforementioned terms were more emphatically noted as being resulted by the previous BSEC practice in the security field: We share a common view that during its seven years of existence, the BSEC has contributed substantially to the process of enhancement of peace and security in the BSEC area by applying the pragmatic concept that economic cooperation is an effective confidence-building measure and serves as a pillar in the new European architecture. (BSEC 1999a:23 [par.3]) Accordingly the BSEC members ‘solemnly reaffirm[ed their] political will to contribute to peace and security in the BSEC area by means of multilateral

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economic cooperation’ (ibid.). The idea expressed in these statements is that there is a BSEC method in fostering security and peace in the Black Sea region. This approach is based on the empirical observation (this is the idea underlying the notion of pragmatic concept) that the economic development and the deepening of regional economic cooperation contribute to the promotion of a more secure environment in the region concerned. The Istanbul Summit Declaration of 1999 contains another conspicuous reference to the issues of security and stability that is worth mentioning. After having praised, in the first place, the role of the OSCE and its activities for European security, the declaration continues by expressing the belief that ‘enhanced cooperation between the BSEC and the OSCE in their respective fields of competence will serve the goals of a stable peace and prosperity in the whole of the OSCE area’ (ibid.). This move follows the previous practice of iterative references to the OSCE committing BSEC to the aims and objectives of this organization (BSEC 1992b:3 [paras 1, 5]; 1998c:20 [par.7]), and its conflict management attributions. It is however to be noted that this pronouncement, inspired also by the particular context of the 1999 BSEC Summit (convened on the eve of the November 1999 OSCE Summit) has been the last specific mention of the OSCE process in the BSEC documents; references to OSCE activities have faded since. The previous extracts show that some security concerns have been rather indirectly presented in the BSEC framework since its inception, especially in the documents adopted at the meetings of the highest echelon (heads of state or government) and therefore vested with the strongest political significance. For this reason it is surprising to note that all these pronouncements at the level of heads of state or government have not been implemented. A careful reading of the resolutions and decisions of the ministers of foreign affairs, who were the ordinary decision-making body of the BSEC initiative, makes it abundantly clear that security concerns have never been an issue of the regular business of the BSEC. This is also confirmed by the study of the activities of the BSEC Working Groups. This leads to the conclusion that since the foundation of the BSEC the focus of interest of the participants has been the economic aspect of the organization and its prospects in the context of the newly launched cooperation process. However, the issue of security and stability has been considered as a question of ‘high polities’, dealt with by political declarations at the highest level, but lacking the legal compulsory character and implementation at the operational level of the BSEC activities.

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The Stability Pact Factor The lack of implementation of the top-level statements on security issues that we already discussed had been the overall approach of the BSEC activity on this matter. There has been, however, one occasion in which the organization (and its member states) did not follow the aforementioned established pattern of general political statements without a follow-up but tried to work out a scheme of involvement in security matters through cooperation with another regional arrangement, namely the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe. This case is important in that it shows the dynamics of interaction between actors at the regional and sub-regional levels and makes the case for a more active coordination among these actors through mutual involvement in their respective activities. Cooperation with the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe (Cologne, 10 June 1999) has been of major importance to BSEC. It can be considered as an outside ‘push’ that triggered an internal reaction, the upshot of which has not been yet fully examined but has undoubtedly influenced the subsequent thinking on security in the BSEC. In the Stability Pact the participants inserted a paragraph, shaped also due to the active participation of BSEC organs in the elaboration of this pact, referring to the BSEC with the following terms: We note the role of the Organization of the Black Sea Economic Cooperation in promoting mutual understanding improving the overall political climate and fostering economic development in the Black Sea region. Welcoming its engagement to peace, security and stability through economic cooperation, we invite the BSEC to contribute to the implementation of the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe’ (para. 35). As to its contents this clause reiterated the well-known pragmatic principle and method of the BSEC of security through economic cooperation. What is more important however, is the recognition of the BSEC role in contributing to the implementation of the objectives of the Stability Pact. Consequently, the BSEC, along with other sub-regional initiatives, was given the status of a facilitating organization of the Stability Pact eligible for participation in its three Working Tables (on democratization and human rights, on economic development, on security issues) as well as in the Regional Table which provides guidance to them. The request for a BSEC contribution to the implementation of the Stability Pact brought the security concerns from the pinnacle of the organization to its regular business. The BSEC organs have had to devise practical means and methods in order to effectively contribute to the realization of the Stability Pact aims. Respectively, one of the main issues discussed was the capacity of the BSEC to deal with security issues (core concern for the Stability Pact). On this occasion

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some questions were raised by member states regarding the extend to which the BSEC should be involved in the Stability Pact affairs and what steps should be practically adopted in this direction. Different stances emerged on these issues. The view of the Permanent International Secretariat of the BSEC (PERMIS) that the Organization can also participate in the Working Tables on democratization and human rights and on security issues based on its overall experience in confidence—building through economic cooperation and in particular on the implementation of the Agreements of the BSEC Member States on Combating Crime and on Emergency Response (BSEC 2000a:26) missed the significant specific features of each Working Table and therefore had not had compelling results. The uneasiness culminated with the reluctance of the then seasonal chair of the organization, Greece, to represent BSEC at a meeting of the Working Table on security issues (scheduled for 13–14 October 1999) on the grounds that the BSEC participation in the said Working Table cannot find justification in the character of the Organization which is primarily of an economic nature and therefore a BSEC participation cannot take place. The fact that issues of BSEC concern, like Justice and Home Affairs, are included in the Draft Agenda of the Meeting cannot counterbalance the inclusion of items dealing with issues completely out of BSEC’s reach like Defense and Security.5 The opinion expressed by the Hellenic Ministry of Foreign Affairs reflected the uncertainty and ongoing discussion launched within the BSEC with respect to the security issues after the invitation of the organization to contribute to the implementation of the Stability Pact. The merits of the views expressed during the debate leads to the ‘principle of speciality’ applicable to the activities of international organizations. According to this principle international organizations exercise only the attributions conferred expressly by their constituent treaties as well as implied powers to the extend they are necessary for the efficient performance of the statutory functions. In this case, it is necessary to examine the activities of the third Working Table of the Stability Pact on security issues in order to assess their compatibility with these of the BSEC. The third Working Table is endowed with three sets of attributions: (1) justice and home affairs, migratory issues, combating organized crime, corruption, terrorism and all criminal and illegal activities, trans-boundary environmental hazards, (2) transparency and confidence-building measures in the region (as well as arms

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control), and (3) defence/military issues and conflict prevention and management. This organization of activities in the three distinct groups leads to an analogous divisibility of the application of the speciality principle. Following this reasoning, it would have been compatible with the BSEC statutory functions for the organization to participate in the consideration of issues under the first set (see below), while the third category of questions is undoubtedly outside the attributions of the BSEC. With regard to the second set of attributions, the BSEC could consider in principle its participation but not before a concrete examination of the issues involved in this group would had been conducted. The aforementioned interpretation can be traced in the resolutions of the 1st Meeting of the Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs (Thessaloniki, 27 Oct. 1999) related to the contribution of the BSEC to the implementation of the Stability Pact. In this respect the Council decided that In accordance with the BSEC principles and objectives defined in the Charter, and with reference to the article 16 of the Stability Pact, the BSEC is ready to participate actively in the working table No. 2 concerning the economic reconstruction, development and cooperation, as well as in the working table No. 3 on justice and home affairs. The participation of the BSEC will be secured in the working table No. 2 by the Presidency, the PERMIS, the Black Sea Trade and Development Bank (BSTDB) and the BSEC Business Council and in the working table No. 3 by the Presidency and the PERMIS. (BSEC 1999b:131 [paras 8, 9]) The above text begins with the affirmation of the respect for ‘the BSEC principles and objectives defined in the Charter’, which constitutes the starting point of the reasoning. But contrary to the opinion expressed on the global incompatibility of the participation of the BSEC in the activities of the third Working Table of the Stability Pact, the Council made a clarification in that it limited the BSEC involvement to the ‘working table No. 3 on justice and home affairs’. By even renaming the relevant organ of the Stability Pact (official title: Working table on security issues), the Council made it clear that only this expressly referred type of items can be of BSEC interest and be also compatible with its statutory ‘principles and objectives’. The same stand was adopted by the heads of state or government of the BSEC member states as well at their summit held in Istanbul, three weeks after the Thessaloniki Council, on 17 November 1999. More specifically, the BSEC members expressed their ‘appreciation for the role attached to the BSEC by the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe in promoting mutual understanding, improving the overall political climate and fostering economic development in the BSEC area’ and ‘welcome [d] the fact that the Stability Pact emphasizes the

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BSEC engagement to peace, security and stability through economic cooperation and invites our Organization to participate in its implementation’ (BSEC 1999a: 23–4). In addition, they went on by declaring that ‘We are committed to contribute to the implementation of the Stability Pact objectives in full conformity with the BSEC objectives and goals’ (ibid., emphasis added). The insistence of the member states on the strict observance of the BSEC principles, objectives and goals in any involvement of the organization in security and stability related activities is obvious in two key documents adopted within one month’s period is not a mere coincidence. Both the Thessaloniki Council (27 Oct. 1999) and the Istanbul Summit (17 Nov. 1999) are the first of their kind to have been convened after the entry into force of the BSEC Charter. The latter, as it has been noted earlier, has introduced legally binding lists of BSEC principles and objectives as well as of areas of cooperation. These obligations compel the member states neither to transgress them nor to act in a way compromising their authority. The implication of the transformation of the informal BSEC structure into a full-fledged international organization can explain the reference to the scrupulous respect of the BSEC objectives and goals, as enshrined in the founding treaty of the organization both in the 1999 Istanbul Summit Declaration and in the legally binding resolutions of the 1st Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs. Since the charter does not contain provisions on security issues, the drafters of the aforementioned documents were careful to draw up their contents in a fashion respectful of the BSEC Charter and to underline that nothing in these pronouncements could be construed in a way contrary to the ‘constitution’ of the organization. This position was later adopted by the PERMIS in the elaboration of the Consolidated Document on the Contribution of the BSEC to the implementation of the Stability Pact for South-Eastern Europe (BSEC 2000a:26) and was reiterated in the resolutions of the 2nd Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs (Chisinau, 27 April 2000), thus completing the elaboration of the modalities regarding the contribution of the BSEC to the implementation of the Stability Pact objectives which involved a rather narrow interpretation. In particular, the BSEC contribution had to ‘strictly observe the statutory goals of the Organization by means of the development of programs and projects in its framework beneficial to the BSEC area at large’6 The discussion raised by the adoption of the Stability Pact for South-East Europe revealed the complexity of the security issues in the BSEC. At the same time it created the opportunity for a wider consideration of this issue for the first time by the regular decision-making organ of the organization, the Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs. In addition, due to the fact that it intervened immediately after the entry into force of the BSEC Charter, it allowed centering the debate on the statutory provisions and in particular on the areas of combating

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organized crime, illicit trafficking of narcotic drugs and psychotropic substances, weapons and radioactive materials, all acts of terrorism and illegal migration— issues where the international cooperation amounts to what is currently called ‘soft’ security measures. ‘SOFT SECURITY MEASURES’: FIGHT AGAINST CRIME In connection with the question of BSEC participating in the activity of the third Working Table of the Stability Pact on security issues, it has been stated that the first category of attributions of the said Working Table (justice and home affairs, migratory issues, combating organized crime, corruption, terrorism and all criminal and illegal activities) is covered by the statutory provisions of the organization of the BSEC. Article 4 of the charter (areas of cooperation) provides that ‘the Member States shall cooperate in the following areas:…combating organized crime, illicit trafficking of drugs, weapons and radioactive materials, all acts of terrorism and illegal migration’. This area of cooperation appears for the first time in the charter; it was not included in the areas of cooperation enumerated in the Istanbul Summit Declaration founding the BSEC back in 1992. As a result not only the security concern but also the struggle against criminality were not embraced by the BSEC agenda before the transformation of the informal initiative into an international organization. Yet the fight against crime that was absent from the statutory texts and other legally binding texts (resolutions and decisions) or almost allusively present only in some political statements, came, rather covertly, into the BSEC scene as early as 1996 through the practice of the participating states, namely, the Joint Statement of the 1st Meeting of the Ministers of Internal Affairs of the BSEC Participating States (Yerevan, 17 October 1996) and the Joint Declaration of the 2nd Meeting of the Ministers of Internal Affairs (Istanbul, 22 October 1997). One should also mention the seminal in this respect Recommendation of the Parliamentary Assembly of the BSEC (PABSEC) 15/1996 of 12 June 1996 on cooperation among the PABSEC Member Countries on combating organized crime. These developments amounted to the elaboration and signature at the 3rd Meeting of Ministers of Internal Affairs of the BSEC Participating States (Kerkyra, Greece, 2 October 1998) of the Agreement among the Governments of the BSEC Participating States on Cooperation in Combating Crime, in particular in its Organized Forms (hereafter: Agreement on Combating Crime). The new area of cooperation concerning the fight against crime and the conclusion of the relevant agreement has been anticipated by the BSEC Charter on 5 June 1998, that is, before the signature of the Agreement on Combating Crime. It is not therefore erroneous to say that, despite the fact that the charter was not formally in force at the time

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of signing the Agreement on Combating Crime, its aforementioned Article 4 has provided for the necessary ‘constitutional’ legitimacy of the conclusion of the Agreement on Combating Crime. The previous discussion traced the emergence of the fight against crime within the BSEC framework. This development occurred in a somewhat mute fashion, without direct reference to security concerns. Despite the consensus that crime, in particular in its organized forms, constitutes a security threat, the BSEC participating states justified the conclusion of the Agreement on Combating Crime on the grounds that ‘national and international crime, in all its forms, poses a serious threat to the health, security and welfare of human beings, and adversely affect the economic, cultural and political foundations of society’ (Agreement on Combating Crime, par. 2). In this respect the adoption of the BSEC Economic Agenda (4th Meeting of the Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs, Moscow, 27 April 2001) represents a watershed. Part III, bearing the heading ‘Soft Security Measures in the Framework of Multilateral Economic Cooperation’ and the subtitle ‘Cooperation in Combating Organized Crime, Illegal Trafficking of Drugs and Arms, Terrorism, Corruption and Money Laundering in the Wider European Context’, establishes for the first time formally a clear bond between combating criminal activities and regional/European security and stability. It states that: As a regional economic organization, the BSEC is not directly involved in peace-keeping and conflict management, [thus] making its contribution to security through economic cooperation. However, this contribution of the BSEC to European security and stability may be an act of major political importance and an answer to the invitation extended to the BSEC by the international community to participate in the Stability Pact for Southeastern Europe. The Economic Agenda goes on by the affirmation that the BSEC ‘has embarked on “soft” security measures’ and suggests that the organization should intensify its cooperation in the fields covered by the Agreement among the Governments in Combating Crime, in particular in its organized forms as well as the Agreement among the Governments of the Participating States of the BSEC on collaboration in Emergency Assistance and Emergency Response to Natural and Man-made Disasters. The link between the fight against organized crime and the security concerns of the BSEC’s member states is therefore solemnly asserted.

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Agreement Among the Governments of the BSEC Participating States on Cooperation in Combating Crime, in Particular in its Organized Forms The decision in principle to conclude in the BSEC framework a multilateral agreement on cooperation in combating crime was taken by the ministers of internal affairs of the BSEC participating states at their 1st Meeting (Yerevan, 17 October 1996) (BSEC 1996a:140). The initial consideration of the contents of the prospected agreement started during the 2nd Meeting of the Ministers of Internal Affairs of the BSEC Participating States (Istanbul, 22 October 1997) that resulted in a preliminary draft, the finalization of which was entrusted to an ad hoc Group of Experts (BSEC 1997:148). The negotiations were conducted in a constructive way while the agreement was finalized and signed at the 3rd Meeting of Ministers of Internal Affairs of the BSEC Participating States in Kerkyra, Greece, on 2 October 1998. The short period of time during which the agreement was elaborated signals the considerable consensus of the participants regarding the need for a legally binding international instrument providing the framework for a transnational fight against crime in the BSEC area. This was confirmed by the rapid entry into force of the agreement (4 October 1999, one year after the signature). In addition, this agreement has achieved, in a rather expedient fashion, substantial participation (ten out of eleven member states—as of December 2002, Albania was the single member state that had not ratified the agreement) and without reservations,7 a fact that demonstrates the importance the member states attach to this area of cooperation. Indeed, from all the conventional texts concluded in the BSEC framework, only the charter of the organization has been ratified by all participating governments. As for the substance of the agreement, it has a wide scope aiming to cover a great deal of criminal activities. According to Article 1, par. 1., the parties shall cooperate for the prevention, suppression, detection, disclosure and investigation of crimes, inter alia of acts of terrorism, organized crime, illicit cultivation, production, manufacture and trafficking in narcotic drugs and psychotropic substances, illegal trafficking in weapons, including biological, chemical and radiological weapons, ammunition, explosives, nuclear and radioactive materials, as well as poisonous substances, international illegal economic activities and legalization of proceeds (money laundering) deriving from criminal activities, suspicious economic and banking transactions and abuses in the investment field, smuggling, criminal activities related to migration, illegal crossing of borders and illegal trafficking in human beings, sexual exploitation of women and minors or children, counterfeiting and forgery of banknotes, credit cards, documents, securities, other values, and identity documents, violent crimes against human life and property, illicit trafficking in items of historic and cultural heritage, works

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of art, precious stones and metals, intellectual property, as well as any other valuable items, corruption, ecological crime, high-tech crime, including computer crime, kidnapping and trade of human organs, maritime crime (maritime fraud, piracy etc.), theft and illegal trafficking in vehicles. No doubt, several of the criminal activities included in this list are directly connected with serious security concerns of the state parties to the agreement. In order to realize cooperation among the parties in combating the aforementioned reprehensible activities, the agreement provides for concrete forms and means of implementation. The standard forms of cooperation in this respect are the exchange of information and experience in the domains covered by the agreement, the planning and adoption of coordinated actions against criminal networks, education and training of personnel of the law enforcement agencies of the parties, meetings of experts, and scientific research activities. The agreement provides also for cooperation in controlling deliveries of narcotic drugs, other psychotropic substances and precursors used for their production. However, the key practical means of implementation of the Agreement on Combating Crime can be found in the mechanism regarding the request for cooperation (Art. 5). Such requests for cooperation are considered the basis for the implementation of the agreement. Requests on any subject covered by the agreement are submitted by the competent authorities of the interested parties in writing or, in emergency cases, verbally. In the latter case, a confirmation in writing should follow within the next three days using, inter alia, technical means of communication. There is an apparent ambition to avoid excessive formalism and to set up a flexible and efficient tool for cooperation among law enforcement agencies. Once the request for cooperation is received, ‘the competent authorities of the Parties shall take all the appropriate measures to ensure the prompt and complete compliance’ with it (Art. 5, par. 4). Given the nature of the subject-matter concerned and the potential far-reaching implications of the fight against criminal activities, the agreement provides for a safeguard clause enabling each party addressed with a request to totally or partially, reject a request for cooperation, if the compliance with the request for cooperation endangers the sovereignty, security, and public order or other essential interests of its State, or is contrary to its legislation or its international obligations. The rejection of a request for cooperation is served in writing to the requesting Party without delay. (Art. 5, par. 3) A further safeguard is provided for the party that has received a request and has complied with it by communicating to the requesting authorities documents or other pertinent information. This information ‘shall be kept confidential when so requested and be used in compliance with the purposes to be determined by

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the delivering Party’. In addition, all material should not become available to third parties ‘without the prior authorization of the providing Party’ (Art. 9, par. 3). With regard to the institutional component of the Agreement on Combating Crime, it is based on two pillars. First, there is the provision for the establishment of a Working Group as a permanent structure for cooperation, exchange of information and best practices as well as a deliberating and consultative body for all issues pertaining to the implementation of the agreement and the expansion of the cooperation in the field of combating crime. Second, there is the provision for the organization of a system of national contact points which should serve as channels of direct communication among the agencies of the parties entrusted with the implementation of the agreement.8 The cooperation in the various fields of interest of the BSEC has been, since the beginning, organized through the establishment of Working Groups composed of experts from the member states, whose tasks are to consider prospects and proposals for cooperation in their respective fields and present appropriate recommendations to the decision-making bodies of the organization. This well-trodden path has been followed also with respect to crime fight (Art. 6). The establishment of the Working Group has been considered an urgent issue and was materialized as a BSEC subsidiary body by the 12th Meeting of the Ministers of Foreign Affairs (MMFA) (Sofia, 22 October 1998) (BSEC 1998a:61 [par. 11]). The Working Group was established almost three weeks after the signing of the Agreement on Combating Crime, and with the same name as the agreement: Working Group on Cooperation in Combating Crime, in Particular in its Organized Forms. This expediency of the 12th MMFA, however, posed some legal questions with respect to the establishment of a structure provided for by an international agreement before the entry into force of the agreement itself. Be it as it may, the newly established Working Group met for the first time in Antalya on 24–26 May 1999, again before the entry into force of the agreement. One has to admit that it is rather hard to explain the situation in legal terms.9 Since its first meeting the Working Group has proven a genuinely multilateral organ and a valuable tool for the implementation of the Agreement on Combating Crime, including the promotion of cooperation among the BSEC member states in this direction. It has met seven times since its establishment—the number of meetings runs higher than the average of the other BSEC Working Groups—and it can present a positive record in creating conditions for closer cooperation among the law enforcement bodies of the BSEC member states and in elaborating an additional framework for the strengthening of the existing cooperation schemes both in terms of substance and of its institutions (see below). The second institutional pillar provided for by the Agreement on Combating Crime is the appointment by the parties of ‘their competent authorities and/or

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contact points through which direct communication is ensured’ (Art. 4, par. 2). The finality of this clause is to enable direct contacts and consultation among the competent authorities of the parties by setting up this means of cooperation in the framework of the agreement. The cooperation system envisaged in this provision is of a mixed character since it sets the multilateral framework for a dense and efficient, mainly bilateral cooperation between the parties to the Agreement on Combating Crime. The rationale of this clause rests on the idea of encouraging the parties to exchange information and experiences on a bilateral basis for the implementation of a multilateral agreement. The bilateral orientation of the contact point pattern becomes more obvious by the possibility envisaged by the same provision that the parties ‘if necessary shall exchange liaison officers’. Be that as it may, the drafters of the agreement attached great importance in the institution of national contact points and, in order to ensure its prompt functioning, they agreed that each Party shall submit to the Depository a list of its competent authorities and/or contact points within a two-month period following the entry into force of this Agreement. The Parties shall inform the Depository of any changes in their lists of competent authorities and/or contact points. (Art. 4, par. 3) The stipulation of such a short time limit in a text that has systematically avoided rigid solutions in any other of its provisions is rather surprising, even if one understands the concerns of the signatories of the agreement to give to the latter the optimal conditions for successful implementation through a structured system of direct communication, information and consultation. Nevertheless these good intentions have not materialized. Contrasting with the swift establishment of the Working Group on Cooperation in Combating Crime, in Particular in its Organized Forms and its successful record, the provision on the national contact points has not been applied so far. Despite the fact that already ten (out of eleven) member states are parties to the agreement, no one has determined its ‘competent authorities and/or contact points’ as required by Art. 4, par. 2. Additional Protocol to the Agreement on Cooperation in Combating Crime Establishing a Network of Liaison Officers It can be reasonably assumed that the idleness of the clause for the appointment of contact points of direct communication among the competent authorities of the parties led to the debate on the establishment of a structure that could be able to allow the regular flow of information among the law enforcement agencies of

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the parties to the agreement, necessary for the prevention, detection, investigation and suppression of criminal activities addressed by the agreement. In this context the idea to complement the institutional aspect of the agreement on combating crime with a view to enhancing its implementation has matured. The debate was opened by a Romanian proposal tabled at the beginning of 2000 to conclude an additional protocol to the agreement with four features: the designation ‘as soon as reasonably’ by the parties of their competent authorities ‘entitled to carry out operational exchanges of data and information covering concrete cases and fields of cooperation (Art. 1); bilateral exchanges of delegations ‘for acquiring documentation and exchanging experience’ in the matters covered by the Agreement on Combating Crime, for training and for support in concrete cases (Art. 3–6); establishment of a Permanent Joint Committee ‘for the practical implementation of the activities foreseen’ in the proposed additional protocol (Art. 9); and establishment of the Working Group provided for in the Art. 6 of the Agreement on Combating Crime (Art. 2). The different proposals contained in the Romanian draft displayed some confusion over the anticipated results of the additional protocol to be concluded. The proposal to establish the Working Group was superfluous since the Working Group on Cooperation in Combating Crime, in Particular in its Organized Forms was established in October 1998 and has been operational since May 1999 (see above). The appointment of the national competent authorities and the bilateral aspect of their cooperation were already in the main agreement; the new element was the scraping of the non-observed two-month time limit for the nomination of the national authorities and/or contact points and its replacement by a ‘reasonable’ time span for such nomination. In this respect the proposal amounted to a non avowed but clear proposal for amendment of Art. 4, par. 3 of the main agreement. With respect to the Permanent Joint Committee, the relevant provision of the Romanian draft was too succinct and failed to demonstrate the necessity of another multilateral structure next to the already functioning Working Group nor its specificity or expected added value with regard to the latter. The Romanian initiative had nevertheless launched the reflection in the BSEC about the institutional strengthening of the cooperation in the field of combating crime. In this context, Turkey came up with the proposal to establish a Police Liaison Centre. In a paper entitled ‘The Project on Establishment of the BSEC Police Liaison Centre’ (tabled in June 2000) the Turkish authorities pointed out the increasing challenges of the fight against crime in the BSEC area as well as the insufficient level of cooperation among the competent agencies of the BSEC member states. They also suggested that ‘the desired level of cooperation may be reached upon the establishment of a ‘Liaison Centre’ consisting of police liaison

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officers appointed by each member state, so more rational and economic organization can be provided’. The Turkish proposal contained a brief presentation of the aims and duties of the prospected Liaison Centre: its target should be to provide coordination by ‘preventing loss of time and duplication of the works’ of the national law enforcement bodies as well as in establishing a computer analysis and information exchange network among the competent national authorities ‘in fighting against terrorist acts, trans-border crimes, [and] international organized crime’. The Liaison Centre should achieve the above aims by collecting, comparing and analyzing data and documents, by transmitting information among the appointed contact points of the parties, by helping the authorities of the parties in inspections and investigations and conveying all related information to them, by improving expert knowledge on the investigation procedures and putting forward proposals about investigations, and by promoting effective and productive usage of the resources that are available at the national level for the operational activities. Moreover, the Turkish proposal provided for the establishment or appointment of ‘National Bureaus’ to serve as the exclusive connections of the national competent authorities and the Liaison Centre. The Turkish proposal was inspired to some extend by the blueprint of the SECI Centre on Trans-border Crime in Bucharest. This organizational pattern would amount to a new structure, the international status of which, as well as its status within the BSEC was not addressed. Furthermore, this Centre would inevitably entail financial and human burden for the parties not easy to address in a region suffering from scarcity in financial and human resources. Last but not least, the functions assigned to the proposed Centre concerned the actual conducting of inspections and investigations of concrete cases and could be considered quite intrusive by the member states. The two aforementioned proposals were considered by the Working Group on Cooperation in Combating Crime (Istanbul, 7–8 Dec. 2000). At this meeting the delegations reached a difficult consensus with regard to setting up the BSEC Liaison Centre on Combating Crime. They further drafted the objectives of the Centre in line with the Turkish proposal and elaborated a puzzling list of its tasks and functions, which were of bureaucratic than operational nature (‘elaboration of proposals on the directions of the cooperation development for the Working Group on Cooperation in Combating Crime; participation in the coordination of interaction between competent law enforcement bodies of the BSEC member states in combating trans-national crime; analysis of information on the stage, dynamics and trends in the development of trans-border crime in the BSEC region; creation of a computer data base on international criminal activities and sending of required information to the parties upon their requests in accordance with Article 9 of the BSEC Agreement; promotion of upgrading of professional

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skills and knowledge of specialists in the field of combating crime; participation in the preparation and holding of international conferences, seminars, experts meetings; facilitation of the experience and information exchange between the law enforcement bodies of the BSEC member states in the field of combating trans-national crime; establishment and maintenance of working contacts with international centers and organizations dealing with combating crime’) (BSEC 2000b: par.9 and Annex III). From this long enumeration, established on a Russian initiative, it becomes clear that the tasks of the Liaison Centre were close to these of the Working Group on Cooperation in Combating Crime with a predictable risk of overlap. Moreover, the negotiations stumbled on all the remaining issues of the status of the Centre in the BSEC framework, its legal capacity and standing in the domestic law of the parties as well in international law, its privileges and immunities, and the status of the officers serving at it. No solution was also possible regarding the financial regulations of the Centre, its location, organization and operation neither with respect to the national contact points nor the observers to the activities of the Centre (ibid.). The draft prepared at the December 2000 meeting of the Working Group on Cooperation in Combating Crime has been submitted to the criticism of several BSEC member states. The strongest opposition came from Bulgaria, which stated that the idea of establishing a Liaison Centre on Combating Crime ‘was unacceptable to the Bulgarian side’. The latter referred to two main reasons for this plain rejection. In the first place invoking the decisive stage of the European integration process of Bulgaria, the Ministry of Interior of the Republic of Bulgaria stated that ‘the Bulgarian side cannot afford to ignore the recommendations of the Justice and Home Affairs Directorate of the European Union, which strictly require for such initiatives to be coordinated with EU member states’. Moreover, from the Bulgarian point of view, the country ‘was still in the process of developing its administrative capacity’ and ‘bearing in mind the experience [it] gained in the difficult process of setting up the SECI Centre on Trans-border Crime in Bucharest and [its] commitments regarding this Centre’, it expressed the conviction ‘that the establishing of new centres and structures would be beyond the abilities of [the] country in terms of financial and human resources and it would make the work of our law enforcement authorities still more difficult’.10 The risk of duplication between the existing SECI Centre on Trans-border Crime and the prospected BSEC Liaison Centre on Combating Crime and the financial and human strains imposed by the co-existence of these two Centres were concerns shared also by other BSEC member states participating in the Bucharest Centre on Trans-border Crime in their capacity as SECI participants. The idea of re-examining the issue of establishing the BSEC Centre gained ground

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and it was reflected also in the BSEC Economic Agenda, adopted by the 4th Meeting of the Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs (Moscow, 27 April 2001), through ‘the proposal to set up a Police Liaison Center in order to combat crime, in particular in its organized forms should be studied at expert level’. Following these developments, the Working Group that met in Istanbul on 14–15 May 2001 preferred over the BSEC Liaison Centre on Combating Crime the establishment of a Central Network of Liaison Officers, as a first step for setting up an institution allowing the closer cooperation of the BSEC member states in the field of combating transnational crime (BSEC 2001b: par. 7). The reason for this reversal was the flexibility provided by a network of liaison officers, both in terms of its form and in its functioning. Actually the concept of network is a very trendy one in modern international law and politics. It is the process-oriented nature of the network that makes it so appealing in adopting it as a practical means of addressing international problems. This preference goes in line with the contemporary tendency not to rely constantly on formal structures but on lithe cooperation of domestic agencies with their counterparts on the basis of practical needs (Inglehardt 1997:188–90). This is very important in the case of combating crime. Networks can build trust and foster relationships among the participating liaison officers. The regular exchange of information, including the daily activities of the law enforcement agencies, can contribute to developing databases of best practices, which can intensify the coordination of activities to combat trans-border crime. By its flexibility and its informality a network of police officials can expand the operational reach of the participating agencies, allowing them to keep up with criminals, including terrorists (that they operate in a network pattern) (Naim 2002). Networked threats require a networked response. As it has been rather vividly demonstrated by the reaction of the American government in the wake of the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, the Bush administration immediately set about assembling a coalition of like-minded states to assist the United States in the so-called war on terrorism. Public attention focused on military cooperation, but the networks of law enforcement agencies sharing vital information on terrorist aspects as well as on terrorism assets and their freezing have been equally important. Leading experts in the ‘new security’ threats assert that the establishment of networks of national law enforcement agencies together with those responsible for customs, food security and regulation of all kinds can be the effective response to the terrorist hazards (Slaughter 2002). It can be therefore foreseen that after its establishment and mainly the start of its operational activities, the network will provide a valuable forum for consultations and exchange of information covering the major security concerns of the BSEC member states participating to its activities.

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The retained solution of the establishment of a Network of Liaison Officers presented further advantages to the negotiation process of the draft Additional Protocol. It did not entail financial or human burden to the parties and did not pose the questions of legal status and capacity, privileges and immunities or location. The removal of these thorny issues allowed the delegations to re-examine also the tasks and functions of the network and to elaborate the final, shorter list and more appropriate to the aims sought by the network (see below). A further session of the Working Group was necessary (Istanbul, 10–11 Dec. 2001) in order to finalize the provisions on the organization and operation of the network and to address the issue of the protection of information and personal data exchanged in the functioning of the network. At this session also the final title (by dropping the adjective central) Network of Liaison Officers was adopted. The Additional Protocol to the Agreement among the Governments of the BSEC Participating States on Cooperation in Combating Crime, in particular in its Organized Forms establishing the Network of Liaison Officers was opened for signature at the 5th Meeting of the Ministers of Interior of the BSEC Member States (Kyiv, 15 March 2002). Eight member states signed the Additional Protocol on that date. Greece signed this protocol on 16 April 2002 while the signatures of Azerbaijan and Russia are pending. The Additional Protocol needs to be ratified or acceded to by three member states in order to enter into force (Art. 11, par. 2). As of November 2002, two member states (Bulgaria, Turkey) have informed the PERMIS on the ratification of the Additional Protocol and on the forthcoming deposit of their instruments of ratification. Consequently the network has not yet been established. Once established the Network of Liaison Officers will strive to enhance cooperation in the field of crime control, to provide for coordination of interaction between the competent bodies of the parties and to establish an information exchange network among the law enforcement bodies of the member states to effectively fight against crimes and criminals in accordance with the BSEC Agreement on Combating Crime (Art. 2). In order to achieve these objectives the liaison officers of the network shall have the following practical tasks and functions: to send the requests forwarded by other liaison officers to their respective countries for urgent cases within a day and for the other cases in three days, in accordance with the provisions of Art. 5 of the BSEC Agreement on Combating Crime, to send the required information to the parties upon their requests in accordance with the provisions of Art. 9 of the BSEC Agreement on Combating Crime, to meet periodically to consider the trends of transnational crime in the region in order to identify new forms of cooperation among the law enforcement agencies of the BSEC member states, to report and propose to the respective bodies additional measures in enhancing cooperation; and to facilitate the exchange of legislative documents and practical experience among the law

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enforcement agencies of the BSEC member states in the field of combating transnational crime (Art. 3). Hence, through the network, a shift has occurred towards a far more effective cooperation at both operational and practical levels since the network is a structure complementary to the Working Group on Cooperation in Combating Crime, not duplicating the latter’s activities. The exact status of the network within the BSEC is not prejudged by the Additional Protocol; the drafters preferred to leave the issue the Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs to decide. It is nevertheless stipulated that the network will be established as a cooperation group in the sphere of combating crime, in conformity with the provisions of Art. 6 of the BSEC Agreement on Combating Crime (Art. 4) and that the network will fulfil its tasks under the authority of the Working Group on Cooperation in Combating Crime and report to it (Art. 6, par. 5). These provisions subordinate the network to the Working Group, a BSEC subsidiary organ. It is therefore submitted that the network also will be a subsidiary organ under Art. 12 of the BSEC Charter, which does not limit the BSEC subsidiary organs exclusively to Working Groups. The network will be operational upon the appointment by the parties to the Additional Protocol of their liaison officers and their alternates. The appointments of the liaison officers (as well as their withdrawal) will be notified to the BSEC PERMIS, which should inform the BSEC member states. In addition the parties are required to determine for the purposes of the network a national point of contact inside their national law enforcement authorities, preferably dealing with international cooperation (Interpol, SECI Center for Combating Trans-border Crime, etc.) with a view to serving as a focal point coordinating all the national activities related to the functioning and activities of the network. The Additional Protocol does not contain a great deal of organizational and operational details. Another course of action would have been contrary to the choice to establish a network based on the flexibility of its functioning. One can also anticipate that, once the network is established and becomes operational, the liaison officers will elaborate specific regulations appropriate to the practical needs of the cooperation in the network frame. The few clauses relative to the functioning of the network aim primarily at ensuring the continuity of its activities. It is therefore stipulated that the Network shall meet periodically, at least once a year (Art. 6, par. 4). In order to avoid blockage situations, as it was the case with previous negotiations on the location of the Liaison Centre, the Additional Protocol foresees that the network will normally hold its meetings at the BSEC Permanent International Secretariat premises, unless the BSEC Chairman in Office suggests the liaison officers to decide otherwise. As it has been pointed out earlier the establishment of a Network of Liaison Officers was accepted as a first step for setting up an institution allowing the closer cooperation of the BSEC member states in the field of combating

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transnational crime (BSEC 2001b: par. 7). Some member states have not definitively abandoned the idea of the creation of a formal entity, on the pattern of the proposed BSEC Liaison Centre on Combating Crime. On the other hand, the reservations of other member states concerning the utility of the network to be established and the risks of overlapping with other similar or analogous structures have been muted but they have not disappeared. For those reasons it was agreed to provide for a test period of two years following the entry into force of the Additional Protocol, after which ‘the parties will proceed to an interim review of the results yielded by the implementation of the provisions of the present Additional Protocol’ (Art. 11, par. 7). The final clause of the Protocol provides also for ‘a final evaluation’ of the results of the activities of the network that ‘will be made four years after its entry into force, with a view to agreeing on the necessary measures for further improvement of the cooperation.’ (ibid.). In this way the Additional Protocol adopts an opening to the future and a clear result-oriented approach, valuable in such endeavors that have the ambition to yield practical advantages for the participating countries. THE AFTERMATH OF 11 SEPTEMBER 2001 The abhorrent terrorist attacks of 11 September in New York and Washington, DC have marked the spirit of everyone. The shock created in humanity was incommensurable and its imprint pervaded every aspect of human activity. At the international level major actions have been launched; from the foundation of a coalition against terror to the legal mobilization for the eradication of the terrorist phenomenon. All this is too well known to dwell on. This article will focus on the consequences that 11 September have had within the BSEC framework. Respectively, two important developments need to be singled out. The first relates to the terrorist phenomenon itself and more specifically with the venture to strengthen the regulatory BSEC framework regarding the struggle against terrorism by the elaboration of a distinct additional protocol to the Agreement on Combating Crime dealing specifically with terrorism. The second, more challenging and far-reaching development, involves the crossing of the traditional limit of the BSEC ‘pragmatic concept’ of security through economic cooperation and the opening of the organization to ‘pure’ security concerns. Struggle against Terrorism The fight against terrorist acts has been a constant concern for the BSEC since it engaged in the field of combating crime. The fight against terrorism is clearly mentioned as an area of cooperation in the BSEC Charter (Art. 4). Moreover the 1998 BSEC Agreement on Combating Crime names terrorism as the first criminal

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activity for the prevention, detection, investigation and suppression of which the parties shall cooperate. This prominent position of terrorism in the crimes to be fought against show the concern of the BSEC member states about this phenomenon. It is of course related also to the much averred fact that terrorism is closely linked, some times inextricably, with other serious forms of criminality such as human trafficking, money laundering, illicit arms trafficking, illegal migration, drug trafficking, etc. Consequently, by suppressing such illegal activities, the law enforcement agencies can stifle terrorism and its various manifestations which threaten international peace and security. The conception of terrorism as an international criminal activity requiring police cooperation and repression is based on the belief that terrorism is often more effectively contained through the combination of police and other law enforcement agencies working closely together (as well as through judicial cooperation) and of security arrangements, rather than by relying solely on the latter. This method has been confirmed by the major strategic document of the BSEC, the Economic Agenda, where it is stated that ‘Whatever the motive, terrorism in all its forms and extremism in all its manifestations have to be condemned and eradicated. The BSEC member states should enhance their efforts to prevent the financing and commission of such acts on their territories and deny perpetrators safe havens.’ In this respect, the BSEC was not unprepared at the legal and conceptual level to deal with the post-11 September terrorist challenge. Hence the BSEC Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs, which held its 5th Meeting in Antalya on 26 October 2001, issued a Statement on Joint Measures in Combating International Terrorism (BSEC 2001c:223) condemning ‘the terrorist attacks in the USA’ and in general ‘international terrorism in ail its forms as a global challenge to peace and security, highly dangerous threat to political, economic and social stability of the international community, to the development of multilateral and bilateral cooperation’. The council invited also the BSEC member states to strengthen the legal arsenal of combating terrorism by becoming parties to the UN conventions relating to the combat against terrorism and by implementing the latter as well as all relevant UN Security Council resolutions (including 1373/2001). The council underlined also the necessary respect of rules of international law in combating terrorism. Turning to the specific BSEC context, the council ‘underlines that cooperation in combating terrorism is provided for by the BSEC Charter’. Without explicitly reiterating the scope of the 1998 BSEC Agreement on Combating Crime, the council ‘urges the relevant authorities of the Member States to go ahead with the implementation of this Agreement. More importantly realizing the danger of international terrorism ‘the Council expresses its determination to take all the necessary steps to prevent and fight against international terrorism and calls upon the relevant BSEC organs to consider new

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means of cooperation within the mandate of the BSEC’. In similar terms, the Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs condemned the seizure by Chechen gunmen of hundreds of innocent people as their hostages in a Moscow theatre (BSEC 2002c). Pursuing the call of both the Statement on Joint Measures in Combating International Terrorism and the Statement Condemning the Hostage Taking in Moscow by Chechen Terrorists to consider new means of cooperation against terrorism within the mandate of the BSEC, the Russian delegation proposed to the Working Group on Cooperation in Combating Crime the elaboration of a new (second) additional protocol to the 1998 Agreement on Combating Crime concerning cooperation against terrorism. In addition, the Russian side assumed the task of submitting to the Working Group a draft additional protocol for consideration. The draft was circulated to the member states in January 2002 and was taken up for consideration by the Working Group on Cooperation in Combating Crime at its meeting on 6–7 June 2002. At that stage the delegations expressed their general views on the usefulness of an additional protocol to the 1998 BSEC agreement and the measures necessary for the elaboration of a new Additional Protocol on Combating Terrorism. The representatives of the member states agreed on the necessity of a binding international document for widening the cooperation in counter-terrorism within the BSEC. However, they argued that the submitted draft needed further elaboration, taking into account the proposals of the competent authorities of the member states. A second round of negotiations on the draft Additional Protocol was held by the Working Group in Moscow (10– 11 December 2002) where the delegations, through a careful examination, managed to finalize the preamble and the first four paragraphs of the operational part of the draft and agreed to remain seized with the elaboration and finalization of the draft at a later stage. Despite the fact that the second Additional Protocol is still under consideration, some general tendencies can already be drawn at the present stage of its elaboration. The draft provides for an exchange of information of mutual interest related to acts of terrorism planned and directed against state leadership, persons under international protection, members of the diplomatic and consular missions, officials of inter-governmental organizations, participants in state visits and participants in other national/international political and sporting events, to terrorist organizations, groups and persons threatening the security of the parties as well as contacts between such terrorist organizations, groups and persons, and to terrorist attempts and actions aimed against the sovereignty and territorial integrity of the BSEC member states. The exchange of information shall also cover acts of terrorism and threats of such acts in the territory of the BSEC member states against facilities and units under increased technological and ecological danger, terrorist organizations and groups acting in the territory of the

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BSEC member states, their tactics and methods, leaders, members, as well as the persons involved in and/or supporting the activities of such groups or organizations. The illicit trafficking of weapons, including ammunition, explosive substances and devices, nuclear and radioactive materials and sources, chemical and biological weapons and their components, committed by organized criminal groupings and persons, and the channels used for their illegal transportation through the territory of the BSEC member states shall also be within the scope of the exchange of information among the parties to the Additional Protocol. Last but not least, the exchange of information concerns the detected and suspected sources and channels of financial, logistical or other kinds of material support to terrorist organizations and groups. The draft Additional Protocol provides also for exchange of practices and legislation on counter-terrorism. The afore-mentioned tasks are to be realized by direct communication among the competent authorities of the parties through contact points entrusted with the monitoring of the implementation of the Additional Protocol on Combating Terrorism and also through consultations and meetings of the competent authorities of the parties as well as through coordinated actions on the issues covered by the protocol. There are also proposals to include the ability to conduct, upon special agreement, joint exercises of counter-terrorist units or joint scientific research in the sphere of combating terrorism, as well as in the sphere of working out means of detecting explosive substances and devices, means of technical protection for antiterrorist units, special equipment and weaponry. The experience of the two meetings that the Working Group devoted to the elaboration of the draft Additional Protocol on Combating Terrorism has shown the increased security concerns that the BSEC member states desire this protocol to address. Provisions concerning cooperation against terrorist organizations, groups and persons threatening the security, the sovereignty and the territorial integrity of the BSEC member states provide a clear proof of this shift in the member states’ interest. On the other hand, this perceived ‘politicization’ of the BSEC process renders the ongoing negotiations on the draft Additional Protocol on Combating Terrorism more complex and lengthier. Istanbul Decennial Summit Declaration: A Greater Engagement of the BSEC in Security Issues? We have been referring to the upgrading of security issues in the BSEC framework especially with regard to the fight against crime and its organized forms and more recently to the struggle against terrorism. However, the most serious element indicating the shift in the attitude of BSEC member states towards a direct focus on security issues is found in Decennial Summit Declaration (Istanbul, 25 June 2002) adopted on the occasion of the tenth anniversary of the launch of the BSEC. One

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could argue, that this Summit Declaration almost broke the mould regarding the stance of the BSEC and its member states towards the issues of security. The Decennial Summit Declaration quite expectedly includes a sizeable reference on terrorism: We [Heads of State or Government] firmly condemn terrorism in all its forms and manifestations as a profound challenge to peace and security and a highly dangerous threat to political, economic and social stability of States and the international community as a whole, adversely affecting the market economies and the development of multilateral and bilateral cooperation. We reaffirm our resolution to take all the necessary steps, while firmly respecting human rights and fundamental freedoms as enshrined in applicable instruments, countering terrorism and other linked illegal activities. We deem it imperative that the relevant BSEC organs and national competent authorities enhance the implementation of the BSEC Agreement on Cooperation in Combating Organized Crime, in particular in its organized forms and, furthermore, consider new means of cooperation within the mandate of the BSEC. (par. 9). This paragraph is the result of thorough drafting and gives a comprehensive account of all the main points of the BSEC discourse on terrorism. All these elements were already present in several pronouncements of the BSEC organs, but not in such structured and inclusive way. Indeed, par. 9 of the Declaration should be considered as the leading, authoritative and concise statement on this issue. The landmark provision however of the Decennial Summit Declaration is to be found in par. 4, which reads: The political, economic and security developments in Europe clearly indicate that peace on the continent depends on the stability and prosperity of its regions. They also demonstrate that the Black Sea region is in need of further efforts towards security and stability. We encourage the BSEC Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs to consider ways and means of enhancing contribution of the BSEC to strengthening security and stability in the region. One can see that the link between security and economic development (prosperity), although present, is not as focal as it used to be in the previous practice of the BSEC. The centre of gravity moves towards purely security concerns, such as the need for further efforts towards security and stability in the Black Sea region and the mandate given to the Council of Ministers of Foreign

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Affairs to consider ways and means of enhancing contribution of the BSEC to strengthening security and stability in the region. The statement on security of the Decennial Summit Declaration was one of the vexed and more arduously debated topics of the declaration. Although the effort by a number of delegates to incorporate stronger language on committing the BSEC to pure security issues into the declaration proved rather successful, at the same time the character of the declaration did not directly challenge the cardinal economic orientation of the organization which would have required an amendment of the charter of BSEC. However, it will not be accidental if an amendment of the charter will be requested sooner rather than later by the council in order to materialize the contribution of BSEC ‘to strengthening security and stability in the region’ (see below). In this final form the relevant par. 4 of the declaration was agreed at the first meeting of the Committee of Senior Officials dedicated to the elaboration of the Declaration of the Heads of State or Government (Istanbul, 27–28 May 2002) (BSEC 2002a). A new conception of security made thus its way in the BSEC. It is larger than the traditional doctrine of security through economic cooperation in two main aspects. In the first place security is perceived as an ‘autonomous’ concept, without a necessary linkage with economic cooperation. Furthermore, the Decennial Summit Declaration acknowledges in more precise terms the regional dimension of security issues. It is clearly mentioned that the Black Sea region needs more security and stability and that the efforts of the BSEC should focus on the regional approach of these issues. Following the mandate of the Decennial Summit Declaration, the Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs (Tirana, 25 Oct. 2002) considered the issue of ways and means of enhancing the contribution of the BSEC to strengthening security and stability in the region. The differing positions of the delegations regarding the substance remained with some delegates to be in favour of expanding the reach of BSEC to encompass security and stability issues and others to be much more reserved at that stage wishing to consider the matter more thoroughly. In order to proceed efficiently with the implementation of the mandate given by the heads of state or government the council invited the member states and BSEC Related Bodies to send through the PERMIS their comments on the issue of security and stability in the BSEC region. Furthermore it was agreed that the International Centre for Black Sea Studies (ICBSS, the BSEC-related body in the field of academic cooperation) would organize an ad hoc Study Group with participants from the member states and respective international organizations, to produce a working paper concerning the implementation of the aforementioned mandate, to be considered by the Committee of Senior Officials (BSEC 2002b:2, par. 5–8).

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From the above it can be assumed that the members still do not have a concise picture of the direction they wish to follow within the BSEC on the issues of security and stability. The initial dichotomy between those members eager to embrace a new domain of cooperation in security issues and those reluctant or sceptical of such a development in the BSEC framework has not been bridged. This is not surprising, taking into account the major turn that these issues have gone through in the Decennial Summit Declaration and the change in the mentalities that its full implementation would require. These reasons can explain the choice of a study group, which will not be composed of government officials. What is actually asked of this ad hoc study group is brainstorming on the general options and future directions of security concerns in the BSEC upon which the member states could shape a more concrete policy. PROSPECTS FOR THE FUTURE The prospects of the BSEC for engaging more actively in security issues are rather blurred. Yet a comprehensive approach on security and stability has been inaugurated in the BSEC. The opposition that most of the member states have expressed on this matter in numerous occasions waned after the events of September 11th. However, the established view is very well rooted in the attitudes of the BSEC member states and it cannot be abandoned in a short span of time. The only member state (Turkey) that has so far expressed its views on the follow-up of the groundbreaking statement of the Heads of State or Government at the Decennial Summit Meeting has adopted a view closer to the traditional doctrine of security through economic cooperation. Some new elements were however added to this doctrine that broaden in some ways its scope. There is no longer any hermetic barrier between BSEC and a comprehensive approach on security and stability while it can be advocated that security concerns have moved from the sidelines into the centre stage of the BSEC process. It can be therefore anticipated that the development occurred at the Decennial Summit Meeting will form part of the BSEC acquis while security issues will be more intensively present in the future in the BSEC proceedings. Another element that will affect the future of the BSEC concerns the eventual implication of the organization’s enlargement, the process of which has been initiated. More relevant is the consideration of the influence of the admission of the two candidates, FYROM and Serbia and Montenegro, which have been already declared eligible for membership in the BSEC (BSEC 2002b:4, par. 16). Taking into account the specific situation of both candidate members, their actual entry in the organization will affect in certain ways the BSEC attitude on security issues in terms of supporting a more comprehensive approach on security concerns.

THE EVOLVING SECURITY CONCERN IN BSEC 159

Naturally one will have a clearer vision of the prospects of security concerns in the BSEC after the completion of the work of the ad hoc study group established at the 7th Meeting of the Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs. However, one can advocate that unless the charter is amended accordingly, any active engagement of the BSEC in security and stability issues beyond the generally accepted view of security through economic cooperation and the fight against organized crime will be highly problematic to be promoted at the institutional level. Nevertheless for the time being the necessary consensus for a formal amendment of the charter seems unattainable. Therefore a more flexible solution of small steps may be preferred, bypassing the cumbersome amendment process of the charter. This approach however will not completely rule out the question of an ultra vires expansion of the reach of the organization. From the presentation of the BSEC gradual involvement in security issues, it follows that the BSEC Charter and the by-laws as they stand seem to have reached the outer point where interpretation can be used for encompassing security concerns within their four corners. Any further steps in order to accommodate the new security concerns (which may eventually arrive at a sort of BSEC ‘security dimension’) cannot make the economy of a revision of the existing legal framework. NOTES 1. Albania, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Bulgaria, Georgia, Greece, Moldova, Romania, Russia, Turkey and Ukraine. 2. A Permanent International Secretariat was established in early 1994 in order to provide secretarial services to the BSEC bodies. 3. Ibid., par. 5 (italics added). Compare par. 1: ‘Taking into account the profound and rapid changes in Europe and the determination of the peoples of the continent to shape a new era of peace and security on the basis of the principles laid down in the Helsinki Final Act and follow-up CSCE documents and particularly in the Charter of Paris fora new Europe’. 4. BSEC 1992b: par. 8, p. 4. Compare the acknowledgement, contained in the Bosphorus Statement adopted at the same day, that the establishment of the BSEC ‘could usher in an era of peace, stability and development in the region and agreed that they would all strive in good faith to achieve these goals’ (BSEC 1992a:9). 5. Verbal Note of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Hellenic Republic No. AS. 445, 13 October 1999. 6. BSEC 2000a:19 (paras 20–21). ‘The Council expressed the opinion that the BSEC participation in the implementation of the Stability Pact should strictly observe statutory goals of the Organization by means of the development of programs andprojects in its framework beneficial to the BSEC area at large’. 7. See however the Declaration of the Georgian Parliament, accompanying the instrument of ratification of the Agreement on Combating Crime that ‘Georgia

160 STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENTS IN EURASIA AFTER 11 SEPT

will not be responsible for violations of the provisions of the Agreement on the territories of Abkhazia and Tskhinvali Region, before the full restoration of the territorial integrity of Georgia’, Note of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Georgia No. N10–17/197, 12 June 2000. 8. A proposal to establish also a Black Sea Police Organization was not taken on by the drafters of the argeement for both organizational and legal reasons (see BSEC 1998b:305 [par. 9]). 9. A way to rationalize this experience at odds with the strict compliance with the agreement is to consider the ‘premature’ establishment of the Working Group as a provisional application of a clause of the agreement pending its entry into force following the agreement of the negotiating states expressed by their decision at the 12th MMFA (cf. Art. 25, par. 1, litt. (b) of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, 23 May 1969). 10. Note of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of Bulgaria No. 04–19–9 dated 7 May 2001 (sent anew on 4 Dec. 2001 and appended as Annex V in BSEC 2001a:2.

REFERENCES BSEC (1992a): ‘The Bosphorus Statement, Istanbul, 25 June 1992’, in Handbook of Documents, Vol. 1, Istanbul: BSEC, 1995. BSEC (1992b): ‘Summit Declaration on Black Sea Economic Cooperation, Istanbul, 25 June 1992’, in Handbook of Documents, Vol. 1, Istanbul: BSEC, 1995. BSEC (1996a): ‘Joint Statement of the Meeting of the Ministers of Internal Affairs of the BSEC Participating States, Yerevan, 17 Oct. 1996, Annex IV to BS/IM/R(96)1’, in Handbook of Documents, Vol. 3, Istanbul: BSEC, 1998. BSEC (1996b): ‘Moscow Declaration of the Heads of State or Government of the Participating States of the BSEC, 25 Oct. 1996’, in Handbook of Documents, Vol. 2, Istanbul: BSEC, 1996. BSEC (1997): ‘Joint Declaration of the Second Meeting of the Ministers of Internal Affairs of the BSEC Participating States, Istanbul, 22 Oct. 1997, Annex V to BS/IM/R(97) 1’, in Handbook of Documents, Vol. 3, Istanbul: BSEC, 1998. BSEC (1998a): ‘Meeting of the Ministers for Foreign Affairs, Sofia, 22 Oct. 1998, Resolutions, Decisions and Recommendations, Annex V to BS/FM/R(98)2’, in Handbook of Documents, Vol. 4, Istanbul: BSEC, 2000. BSEC (1998b): ‘Report of the Second Meeting of the Ad Hoc Group of Experts of the Ministries of Internal Affairs of the BSEC Participating States, Athens, 29 June–1 July 1998, BS/IM/GE/R(98)2’, in Handbook of Documents, Vol. 3, Istanbul: BSEC, 1998. BSEC (1998c): ‘Yalta Summit Declaration, 5 June 1998’, in Handbook of Documents, Vol. 4, Istanbul: BSEC, 2000.

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BSEC (1998d): ‘Charter of the Organisation of the Black Sea Economic Cooperation, Yalta, 5 June 1998’, in Statutory Documents, Istanbul: BSEC, 2001. BSEC (1999a): ‘Istanbul Summit Declaration, 17 Nov. 1999’, in Handbook of Documents, Vol. 4, Istanbul: BSEC, 2000. BSEC (1999b): ‘Report of the 1st Meeting of the Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs, Thessaloniki, 27 Oct. 1999, Annex V to BS/FM/R(99)2’, in Handbook of Documents, Vol. 4, Istanbul: BSEC, 2000. BSEC (2000a): ‘Report of the 2nd Meeting of the Council MFA, Chisinau, 27 April 2000, Attachment 2 to Annex VII to BS/FM/R(2000)1’, in Handbook of Documents, Vol. 5, Istanbul: BSEC, 2002. BSEC (2000b): ‘Report of the Second Meeting of the Working Group on Cooperation in Combating Crime’, Istanbul, 7–8 Dec. 2000, Doc. BS/CC/WG/R(2000)1. BSEC (200la): ‘Report of the Fourth Meeting of the Working Group on Cooperation in Combating Crime’, Istanbul, 10–11 Dec. 2001, Doc. BS/CC/WG/R(2001)2. BSEC (200 lb): ‘Report of the Third Meeting of the Working Group on Cooperation in Combating Crime’, Istanbul, 14–15 May 2001, Doc. BS/CC/WG/R(2001)1. BSEC (2001c): ‘Statement of the Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs of the Organization of the BSEC on Joint Measures in Combating International Terrorism, (Antalya, 26 October 2001), Attachment 2 to Annex V to BS/FM/R(2001)2’, in Handbook of Documents, Vol. 5, Instanbul: BSEC, 2002. BSEC (2002a): ‘Committee of Senior Officials, Report of the Meeting’, Istanbul, 28 May 2002, Doc. BS/SOM/R(2002)3, Annex III. BSEC (2002b): ‘Report of the 7th Meeting of the Council MFA’, Tirana, 25 Oct. 2002, Annex VI to Doc. BS/FM/R(2002)2. BSEC (2002c): Statement Condemning the Hostage Taking in Moscow by Chechen Terrorists, unanimously adopted at the 7th Meeting of the Council, Tirana, 25 October 2002, Doc. BS/FM/R(2002)2. Inglehardt, R. (1997): Modernization and Postmodernization: Culture, Economic and Political Change in Forty-Three Societies, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Naim, Moises (2002): ‘Al Qaeda, the NGO’, Foreign Policy, 129 (March/April), pp. 99– 100, . Slaughter, Anne-Marie (2002): ‘The Future of International Law: Ending the U.S.-Europe Divide’, Crimes of War Project Magazine, September 2002, .

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Abstracts

Toward a Global Geopolitical and Geoeconomic Concert of Powers? THEODORE COULOUMBIS The current international system which has suffered from a destabilizing vacuum stemming from the rapid disintegration of Cold War-era bipolarity should not be allowed to degenerate into global chaos and anarchy, especially following the events after 11 September. Instead, a tolerable and reasonably predictable global order could function in the context of a global great power consensus stemming from the legitimizing mechanisms such those of the UN, NATO, the Group of Seven (G7) (and its modalities) as well as the Quartet (US, Russia, UN and the EU). Alternatively, an enhanced and adequately institutionalized G8/9 could function as a complement to the UN Security Council through which problems of North-South could be more effectively addressed. Both structures can operate as global legitimizing agencies in the application of strategies of conflict prevention, conflict management and if agreed upon, preemptive intervention. The second premise of the article is that stability in the twenty-first century presupposes a meaningful and cooperative Euro-Atlantic relationship. The world has become far too dangerous and unpredictable for the international community to remain passive in the face of a growing politico-economic gap between the rich in the North and the poor in the South of our planet. Multilateralism ultimately is the best option for the leaders of major centers of global power. NATO-Russia Relations After 11 September ROBERT HUNTER 11 September 2001. This date has already entered international parlance as a single set of numbers that needs no further explanation: ‘9–11’ (‘nine-eleven’). The shock to the United States was also a shock to the international system, to a degree and in a way that is still not entirely apparent. One immediate result of

164 STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENTS IN EURASIA AFTER 11 SEPT

11 September was a change in Russian policy toward the United States and— eventually—to NATO. This change, which will be described and analyzed below, may prove to be only tactical—a set of moves by Russian President Vladimir Putin to take advantage of circumstances; or it may prove to be of strategic significance: presaging a more lasting Russian engagement with the West, its powers, and its institutions. To assess the possibility of such a more lasting engagement, it is first necessary to understand what has happened in Russia’s relationship with the West and—in particular for this article—the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. Seismic Shifts in Eurasia: The Changing Relationship Between Turkey and Russia, and its Implications for the South Caucasus FIONA HILL May and June 2002 were the months of ‘Russian summits’—the US-Russia summit, which consolidated the steady progress made in relations since 2001; the Russia-NATO summit, which inaugurated a new Russia-NATO Council; the Russia-European Union (EU) summit, which gave the first acknowledgement of Russia’s status as a market economy; and the G8 summit, which saw Russia finally accepted as a member of the club of advanced economies after a decade of distinctly second-class status. Together, the series of summits consolidated the positive trajectory in US-Russian relations and thus in Russia’s relations with ‘the West’ since the events of 11 September. Disagreements over the war in Iraq aside, this improvement in US-Russian relations could ultimately have a transforming effect on the geopolitics of Eurasia and particularly of the South Caucasus, in part because it opens up the possibility of a new relationship between Russia and Turkey, America’s primary strategic ally in the region. After centuries of imperial competition, frequent wars, and Cold War rivalry, a rapprochement and a pragmatic, stable economic and political partnership between Turkey and Russia in Eurasia would be tantamount to the reconciliation of France and Germany after the Second World War in Europe. It would change the nature of conflicts in the South Caucasus that have often been shaped by Russian and Turkish enmity. And it would open up prospects for economic development and integration in the Caucasus and elsewhere in Eurasia. The Economics and Politics of Caspian Oil ANDREAS ANDRIANOPOULOS The development of the oil and gas reserves of the Caspian Sea region and the emergence of the transportation projects of these reserves to world markets have generated an increased competition among oil companies, regional countries and

ABSTRACTS 165

key international actors. Although the commercial perspective remains important, political considerations and competing geopolitical concerns prevail and therefore tend to underestimate market needs and economic realities. Silk Road, Great Game, or Soft Underbelly? The New US-Russia Relationship and Implications for Eurasia CELESTE A.WALLANDER The impact of the US war against Al Qaeda and the Taliban in Afghanistan brought Russia into a closer relationship with the United States, and set it more firmly on the path of security, political and economic integration with the West. Putin’s decision to support US policy, his silencing of official dissent, concrete policy concessions and priorities are evidence that there is more to the Russian orientation toward the United States than feel-good politics and personal relationships. Two questions will determine whether the positive opportunity to advance Putin’s agenda is sustained. The first is whether the United States succeeds in defeating terrorist networks in Afghanistan, Central Asia and the Caucasus. The second is whether the apparent common interest against Eurasian terrorism is sustainable. If so, then the US-Russia relationship can be the basis for a successful Silk Road future for Eurasia that focuses on regional co-operation as a means to integration, development and globalization Balkan Security: What Security? Whose Security? SPYROS ECONOMIDES Yugoslavia’s wars of succession have posed a threat to security on a number of levels, ranging from individual security through to group, national and international security. This article raises and addresses two main questions. First, what types of security threats have emerged conflicts in Southeastern Europe over the last decade? Second, what is the real or perceived security threat which has prompted the western-led ‘international community’ to intervene militarily in Southeastern Europe? Much has been made of the humanitarian concerns, which resulted in military intervention in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Kosovo. It is argued here that while there were indeed humanitarian concerns, which resulted in intervention, the main driving force behind effective military action was primarily the concern with the protection of the interests, be they national or international, of the interventionary states. Realpoltiik rather than moralpolitik is still a dominant motivating force of the more internationally active Western states, especially the US and the UK.

166 STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENTS IN EURASIA AFTER 11 SEPT

The Evolving Security Concern in the Black Sea Economic Cooperation IOANNIS STRIBIS Since its inception the BSEC has had economic goals aimed at strengthening the economic cooperation among its members. The present article argues that despite this clear finality the developments in the BSEC environment propelled security among the concerns of this regional economic structure. This has happened gradually, starting from the adoption of soft security measures in the field of combating crime. The 11 September attacks in the United States inaugurated a shift in the BSEC approach towards security. The fight against terrorism became a growing concern of the BSEC. Moreover the debate over a more active BSEC contribution in security in the region has been launched.

Biographical Notes

Andreas Andrianopoulos is a former minister and member of Parliament (1974–1994) and former Mayor of Pireaus (elected in 1986). He has served at various ministerial posts (Social Services, Foreign Affairs, Culture and Science; Trade, Industry, Energy and Technology) from 1976 until 1992 when he withdrew from his position as Minister of State and from politics in general to focus on academia and work in the private sector. He has been a Visiting Scholar at St Edmund’s College, Cambridge University (1995–96) and a Public Policy Scholar at the Woodrow Wilson Center in Washington, DC (1998–99). His recent publications include: In the Heart of Islam; Globalization and the New Economy; Democratic Capitalism and the Knowledge Society. Theodore Couloumbis is Professor Emeritus of International Relations at the University of Athens and Director General of the Hellenic Foundation for European and Foreign Policy (ELIAMEP). His most recent books include…71– …74: A Professor’s Notes (Athens: Patakis, 2002) and (with Theodore Kariotis and Fotini Bellou) of Greece in the 20th Century (London: Frank Cass, 2003). Spyros Economides is a Lecturer in International Relations and European Politics at the London School of Economics. In 2001–2002 he was a Research Associate at the International Institute for Strategic Studies in London. His most recent publications include: The Economic Factor in International Relations (with Peter Wilson); and Philip Windsor’s Strategic Thinking: An Introduction and Farewell (edited with Mats Berdal). Fiona Hill is a Senior Fellow in the Foreign Policy Studies Program at The Brookings Institution. Her previous positions have included Director of Strategic Planning at the Eurasia Foundation in Washington, DC, and Associate Director of the Strengthening Democratic Institutions Project (SDI) at Harvard University’s John F. Kennedy School of Government. She has presented and written extensively on topics related to Russia, the Caucasus region and Central Asia. Shireen Hunter is the Director of the Islam Program at the Center for Strategic and International Studies in Washington. She previously served as

168

Director of the Mediterranean Studies program with the Centre for European Policy Studies in Brussels (1994–1998), deputy director of the Middle East Program CSIS (1983–1993), as a guest scholar at the Brookings Institution, and research fellow at the Harvard Center for International Affairs. Some of her publications include The Future of Islam and the West: Clash of Civilizations or Peaceful Coexistence? (Praeger/CSIS, 1998), Central Asia Since Independence (Praeger/CSIS, 1996). Robert Hunter is Senior Advisor at the RAND Corporation in Washington, DC. From 1993 to 1998, he was US Ambassador to NATO and represented the US to the Western European Union. In the Carter Adminstration, he was Director of Western European and Middle East Affairs at the National Security Council. Ioannis Stribis was the Legal Adviser of the BSEC Permanent International Secretariat from 1999 to 2000. Member of the Athens Bar, he has been Legal Adviser of the Association of Chambers of Commerce of Greece. He taught at the Law Faculty, Athens University (1991–1994) and the Law Faculty, Clement Ohritsky Sofia University (1993). He graduated the Law Faculty, University of Athens. He holds a DEA in Public International Law and International Organizations (Paris I University), a DESS in Common Market Law (Paris I University) and PhD in Public International Law (Paris I University). Celeste Wallander is Director and Trustee of the Russia and Eurasia Program at the Center for Strategic and International Studies in Washington DC. Prior to that, she was a Senior Fellow at the Council on Foreign Relations and an Associate Professor of Government at the Davis Center for Russian Studies and the Weatherhead Center for International Affairs at Harvard University. Since 1997, she has also been director of the Program on New Approaches to Russian Security, funded by the Carnegie Corporation and the MacArthur Foundation. Some of her publications include Mortal Friends, Best Enemies: German-Russian Cooperation after the Cold War (Cornell, 1999), and (as co-editor) Imperfect Unions: Security Institutions over Time and Space (Oxford, 1999).

Index

11 September attacks on the United States, v, 8–15, 22, 27, 39, 41, 46, 56–6, 62, 68, 96, 101, 129, 149, 151–3 as a paradigm shift for international security 104–106 psychological impact of , 9

Baker, James, 114 Balkans, 18, 23, 104–25 US involvement in, 29, 33, 106, 109, 113–24 Belarus, 33, 89 Belgium, 41 bin Laden, Osama, 9 biological and chemical weapons, 10, 142 Black Sea Economic Cooperation (BSEC), 14, 18, 68, 129 as a means of resolving security concerns, 132–60 agreements to cut crime across, 133, 137, 139–60 Black Sea Trade and Development Bank (BSTDB), 137 Charter of, 129–31 cooperation with the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe 135–9 democratic and liberalising mission of, 132–3, 136–7 Network of Liason Officers within, 149–51 Permanent International Secretariat of the BSEC (PERMIS), 136, 149, 157 Police Liason Centre, 146–52 struggle against terrorism, 152–8 Summit Declaration on Black Sea Cooperation, 132 Black Sea Region, 7, 9–10, 61, 67, 83, 89, 129–60 geostrategic importance of, 132

Afghanistan, 2, 13, 39, 58, 87, 96–8, 100– 101 Africa, 18 Ahtissari, Martti, 37 Al Qaeda, 71, 91, 96, 104 Albania, 33, 108–10 Albright, Madeleine, 8 Alekperov, Vagit, 70 Aliyev, Heydar, 70 Angola, 106 Armenia, 13, 82 relations in the Caucasus, 64–4, 67–71 Turkish-Armenian Development Council, 67 Association of South-Asian Nations (ASEAN), 18 Austria, 111, 116 Austro-Hungarian Empire, 2 Azerbaijan, 7, 64, 68, 70–71, 78, 84–5, 88 Azerbaijan International Operating Company (AIOC), 77–80, 85–6 migration from, 67 oil reserves of, 65, 76–7, 84–5 Petrol Sharing Agreements, 78 State Oil Company of, 79 169

170 INDEX

Blair, Tony, 122 Bonaparte, Napoleon, 3 Bosnia-Herzegovina, 107–108, 110, 112– 17 British involvement in, 115–18, 121 Dayton Agreement, 116, 117 Implementation Force (IFOR), 33 NATO role in. 29, 33, 106, 117–19 Russian and Turkish attitudes towards, 57 Stabilisation Force (SFOR), 33, 37 UNPROFOR, 113, 115, 117 Vance Owen Plan, 116–18 Brazil, 19 Briand-Kellog pact, 3 Browne, Sir John, 80 Brzezinski, Zbignew, 89 Bulgaria, 83, 89, 148 effects of Balkan wars on, 108–11 Bush, George H.W., 6, 113 Bush, George W., 10, 20, 39, 41, 46, 86 administration of, 21, 104 Canada, 19, 88 Caspian Basin, 9, 67 importance for oil, 76–90 legal status of the Caspian sea, 84 Main Export Pipeline Company, 79, 86 oil companies operating around, 79– 81, 85–7 Caucasus, 7, v4–14 relations with Russia 56–71, 81–90, 96–7 relations with the United States, 56, 58, 63–3, 67, 68, 77, 80 South Caucasus, 56–71, 76 Cem, Ismail, 68 Central Asia, 13–14, 29, 39, 57, 62–2, 67, 98 Central Asian Cooperation Organization (CACO), 99 Central Asian Economic Community (CAEC), 99 US relations with, 39, 98, 101

Chernomyrdin, Victor, 37 China, 4, 11, 19, 22, 57–7, 60, 98, 103 inclusion into the G9, 11, 18, 21 oil interests, 82, 86, 88–90, 100 relations with Russia, 4, 58, 95, 99 relations with the United States, 8–9 Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO), 99 Christopher, Warren, 115 Clinton, Bill, 40, 114, 117 administration of, 114, 116 Communism, 3, 4 conflict management, 18–19 Cook, Robin, 122 Couloumbis, Theodore, 11–12 Council for Mutual Economic Assistance, 18 Croatia, 108, 110–13, 116 crime, 14 agreement in combating crime in the Black Sea Region, 133, 137, 139–60 impact of 11 September upon cooperation against, 152–9 trafficking, 20, 133, 142 CSCE, 132 Cyprus, 59, 69, 86, 109 Turkish invasion of, 83 Czechoslovakia, 3 Delors, Jacques, 21 Deutsch, Karl, 24 diasporas, 57, 61, 71 Ecevit, Bulent, 68 Economides, Spyros, 14–15 election monitoring, 20 Ethiopia, 3 ethnic cleansing, 107–108, 116 Eurasia, 24 different models for understanding, 101–102 Eurasian silk-road, 13–14, 98, 100, 102–103 geopolitics of, 56–72, 98–101

INDEX 171

relations to the United States, 91–3, 96–7, 99, 101, 102, 106 Europe, 19–20, 22, 27, 57, 60 Council of Europe, 21 desire to deal with the German problem, 30–31 EU Common Foreign and Security Policy, 30, 114 European Coal and Steel Community, 31 European Development Aid, 23 European Economic Community (EEC), 31 European integration, 4, 18–18, 29– 30 expansion of, 13, 23, 110 Helsinki Summit, 59 involvement in the Balkans, 109–24 Marshall Plan (European Recovery Programme), 29 relations with NATO, 23, 29 relations with Russia, 12–13, 24, 41, 47, 56, 58–9, 65, 111 relations with the United States, 8, 12, 20–25, 29, 31, 68, 97, 117 relations with Turkey, 12–13, 23, 58, 59–9, 62, 69 Western European Union (WEU), 18, 29 Fascism, 3 Federal Republic of Yugoslavia see Yugoslavia Finland, 37 France, 2, 3, 8, 19, 22, 36 involvement in the Balkans, 115–18, 121 relations with Germany, 31, 56 Georgia (ex-Soviet Republic), 7, 64–4, 67, 70–71, 80–81, 91, 99 relations with Russia, 64–4, 67, 71–2, 100 Germany, 2–3, 6, 10, 19, 22, 24, 41

historic role in Europe, 30–31 inclusion into the security council, 19 National Socialist (Nazi), 2–3 oil pipelines through, 78 post-war containment of, 30 relations with NATO, 31–2 reunification of, 6, 30 globalization, 18 Gobachev, Mikhail, 2, 6–7 Grachev, Pavel, 33 Great Britain see United Kingdom Greece, 71, 83–4, 108–109, 116, 136 relations with Turkey, 59, 69 the Macedonian question, 109 Group of Eight, the (G8), 11, 18, 21, 37, 56, 59, 88 as a legitimizing agent of foreign policy, 19 membership of, 19 Group of Nine, the (G9), 11, 18, 21 Group of Seven, the (G7), 11, 18, 19, 21 widening of, 18, 19 Gulf Cooperation Council, 18 Gulf War, 2, 7, 9, 18 sanctions since, 60 GUUAM Group, 63, 99 Hill, Fiona, 13 Holbrooke, Richard, 117 humanitarian, assistance, 20, 113 intervention, 20 justifications, 106–107 Hungary, 111, 116 Hunter, Robert, 12 Hussein, Sadam, 7, 11, 18–19, 60, 69, 121 India, 19, 22, 57 potential conflict with Pakistan, 97 relations with Russia, 91, 95, 100 relations with the United States, 98 International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (World Bank), 5, 18, 21, 67, 94

172 INDEX

international borrowing, 66 International Criminal Court, 20–2 International Monetary Fund (IMF), 5, 18 support for Turkey, 68 Iran, 8, 10, 41, 63–3, 67, 70–71, 78, 81– 2, 84–5, 89, 89, 97 relations with Russia, 60–61, 95, 103 relations with the United States, 13, 97, 103 relations with Turkey, 58, 62 Iraq (see also Gulf War), 7–8, 10, 41, 60, 72 alleged links to terrorism, 10 relations with Russia, 58, 60, 103 relations with the USSR, 7, 8 relations with Turkey, 58, 60–61 United States involvement in, 44 US policy towards, 80, 89, 97, 103, 114 Ismay, Lord, 24 Israel, 89 1967 Arab-Israeli War, 2 1973 Arab-Israeli War, 2 Arab-Israeli conflict, 2, 18 international atttitudes towards conflict within, 97 Likud, 23 relations with Russia, 61, 65 relations with Turkey, 61, 65 Italy, 3, 19, 36, 77, 116 Japan, 4, 19–20, 22 Kalicki, Jan, 76 Kalyuzhny, V, 85 Karadzic, Radovan, 115 Kasianov, Mikhail, 65–5 Kazakhanstan, 64–4, 89–89, 100 oil related issues, 66–80, 87, 89–89, 100 Kilinc, Tuncer, 62 Korea see North Korea and South Korea Kosovo, 23, 41, 57, 106, 110, 112–14 British involvement in, 119, 121

Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA), 118– 21 Kosovo Verification Mission (KVM), 118, 120 NATO role in, 29, 36–41, 106–107, 109, 118–23 Rambouillet Peace Talks, 119–2 United States involvement in 29, 36– 41, 106–107, 109, 118–24 Kyoto Protocol, 20–2 Kuchma, President, 99 Kupchan, Charles, 22 Kuwait, 7 Kvashnin, Anatoly, 62 Latin America, 18 League of Nations, 4 failure of, 3–5 formation of, 2–3 Mao Tse-tung, 4 Middle East, v, 10, 18, 57–7 Greater Middle East, 41 Persian Gulf, 6, 77 provision of oil to the United States, 77 relations with Russia, 41–3 United States relations with, 12, 106 Milosevic, Slobodan, 37, 108–10, 118–22 Missile Defence (see also Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty), 45, 101 Moldova, 89 Montenegro, 23 Moravcsik, Andrew, 22–4 Morningstar, Richard, 82 Mutalibov, Ayaz, 70 National Socialism (Nazism), 2–3 Nazi-Soviet Pact, 3 Nicaragua, 106 North American Free Trade Area (NAFTA), 18 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 8–10, 18–18, 21, 99 Combined Joint Taskforce, 29

INDEX 173

Council of, 19, 42 enlargement of, 24, 35, 26, 40, 57, 59, 64, 91, 110–12 Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council, 29 France’s withdrawal from, 20 NATO-Russia Council (NRC), 41, 42–8, 56 NATO-Russia Founding Act, 33–6, 40–41, 43, 46 NATO-Russia Permanent Joint Council (PJC), 29, 35–6, 38–9, 41–3 NATO-Ukraine Charter, 29 Partnership for Peace (PFP), 29, 33, 99–100 post-Cold War, 27–39 relations with Germany, 31–2 relations with Russia, 12, 27–47, 56, 58, 91, 96, 100–101, 103 relations with the Soviet Union, 30–31 relations with the United States, 29, 33, 36, 37, 106 role in Bosnia, 29, 33, 106, 117–19 role in Kosovo, 29, 36–41, 97–107, 109, 118–23 Russian membership of, 41 North Korea, 10, 41, 58 North-South relations, 22 nuclear weapons, 4, 103 Anti-Ballistic Missile (ABM) Treaty, 40, 91, 101 avoiding proliferation of, 46, 96 decommisioning of, 38, 40, 42 nuclear deterrence, 6

interests of Russia, 65, 81–90, 100– 101 interests of the United States, 77, 80– 84, 86–87, 89 interests of Turkey, 78–80, 83, 86–7, 89–89 of the Caspian Sea, 61, 65, 76–90 pipeline routes, 76–90, 97–8 relations between the EU and Russia, 59 significance of to Russia, 59 Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE), 18, 21, 34–5, 59, 118, 134 Kosovo Verification Mission (KVM), 118, 120 Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC), 18, 77 Oskanian, Vartan, 68 Ottoman Empire, 2 Owen, David, 115 Ozal, Turgut, 63

Quartet, the, 11, 23

Öcalan, Abdullah, 62 oil and gas, 14, 60, 65, 69, 102 Caspian Pipeline Consortium (CPC), 77, 87 in the South Caucusas, 59–9, 61, 64, 69 interests of Azerbaijan, 65, 76–7, 84–5 interests of China, 82, 86, 88–90, 100 interests of Kazakhstan, 76–80, 87, 89–89, 100

refugees, 20, 60 produced by the wars in the former Yugoslavia, 107 Robertson, Lord, 45 Romania, 89, 145–6 effects of Balkan wars on, 109–11 Rugova, Ibrahim, 118 Russia (see also Union of the Soviet Socialist Republics), 2, 7, 10–11, 13, 18 19–20, 22, 36, 57, 89, 94–5, 98, 102

Pakistan, 57, 93, 98, 100 potential conflict with India, 97 Palestinian, 23, 97 peacekeeping, 18–20 Perry, William, 33 Primakov, Yvgeniy, 41–2 Putin, Vladimir, 13, 27, 39–40, 45–7, 86, 88, 91, 96, 99, 101

174 INDEX

as possible NATO member, 41 effect of Balkan wars on, 36–7, 111 fall of the Tsar, 2 inclusion into the G8, 11, 18, 21 NATO Partnership for Peace (PFP), 29, 33, 99–100 oil and gas interests of, 65, 81–90, 100–101 relations with China, 4, 58, 95, 99 relations with Eurasia, 24, 102 relations with Georgia, 64–4, 67, 71– 2, 100 relations with Iran, 60–61, 95, 103 relations with Iraq, 58, 60, 103 relations with Israel, 61, 65 relations with NATO, 12, 27–47, 56, 58, 91, 96, 100–101, 103 relations with Serbia, 36–7, 111 relations with the European Union, v 2–13, 24, 41, 47, 56, 58–9, 65, 111 relations with the Middle East, 41–3 relations with the South Caucasus, 56– 71, 81–90, 96–7 relations with the United States, 8–10, 12–14, 24, 29, 39–40, 41–3, 44–8, 56, 58, 60–61, 63, 68, 91–93, 95–7, 99–102, 114 relations with the Ukraine, 33, 63, 99– 100 relations with Turkey, 12, 56–72 Russo-Turkish War (1877–1878), 57 Shanghai Cooperation Organisation (SCO), 99 treatment of and repercussions from Chechnya, 7, 40, 57, 61, 67, 69, 71, 91–3, 122, 153 use of economic assistance, 40 Saudi Arabia, 88, 89 security, community, 24 different conceptions of, 97–108, 113 September 11 see 11 September

Serbia (see also Yugoslavia and Kosovo), 23, 158 relations with Russia, 37, 111 Shanghai Group, 41 Sharon, Ariel, 23 Shevardnadze, Eduard, 71 Slovenia, 108, 110–13 Solana, Javier, 23 South Asia, 57–7, 76 Soviet Union see Union of the Soviet Socialist Republics Stefanopoulos, K., 79 Stoltenberg, Thorvald, 116 Stribis, Ioannis, 14 Suez War, 20 postwar situation, 2 Syria, 61, 86 systemic transformations, 7 Tajikistan, 64 Taliban, 9, 96 anti-Taliban war, 9–10, 91 terrorism, 10, 12–13, 20, 38, 97, 118, 133, 139, 146–7, 149, 151 Al Qaeda, 71, 91, 96, 104 desire to combat post 11 September, 12–13, 20, 39, 41, 45, 62, 101–102, 151–159 emergence of, 101 Palestinian suicide bombers, 23 Turkey, 10, 57, 61, 63–3, 109, 146, 158 AK (Justice and Development) Party, 69 aspiring membership of the EU, 23, 59–9, 62 concerns about Iraq, 60 geostrategic significance of, 58–9, 83 influence on oil production and supply, 78–80, 83, 86–7, 89–89 involvement in the former Yugoslavia, 109 relations with Greece, 59, 69 relations with Iran, 58, 62 relations with Iraq, 58, 60–61

INDEX 175

relations with Israel, 61, 65 relations with Muslim peoples of the Balkans and Caucasus, 57 relations with Russia, 12, 56–72 relations with the European Union, 12–13, 23, 58, 59–9, 62, 69 relations with the United States, 10, 12, 60–61 Russo-Turkish War (1877–1878), 57 support for the Chechens, 62 treatment of the Kurds, 61–62, 86–7, 108 Turkish-Armenian Development Council, 67 Turkmenistan, 64–4, 76, 78, 81, 84–5, 89 Ukraine, 89 NATO-Ukraine Charter, 29 relations with Russia, 33, 63, 99–100 United Kingdom, 2, 19, 102 casualties of World War One, 2 involvement in Bosnia, 115–18, 121 involvement in Kosovo, 119, 121 involvement in NATO, 22, 36–7 involvement in the League of Nations, 3 relations with the United States, 40 United Nations, 4–5, 8, 10, 19, 21, 36, 111 as peacekeepers, 19 conventions on combatting terrorism, 153 General Assembly, 5 involvement in the former Yugoslavia, 108–10, 113–16 relations with Turkey, 68 responsibilities of, 5 role of power within, 5–6 UNPREDEP, 108 UNPROFOR, 113, 115, 117 United Nations Security Council, 11, 18, 19, 21, 35, 37, 114, 117, 120 expansion of, 19 Union of the Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR), 2, 97

collapse of, 6–8, 18, 23, 27, 31–2 internal transformation of, 2 relations with Iraq, 7, 8 relations with NATO, 30–31 relations with the Caucasus, 67 relations with the United States, 4 rise of, 2–3 United States of America (USA), 2–2, 8, 19–20, 22–4, 30, 57 Carter Doctrine, 2 development aid, 23 in a unipolar world, 8 influence of oil on production and supply, 77, 80–84, 86–7, 89 involvement in the Balkans, 29, 33, 106, 109, 113–24 involvement in Kosovo, 29, 36–41, 106–107, 109, 118–24 Marshall Plan (European Recovery Programme), 29 military capability of, 22–4 post-September 11 changes in security concerns, 9, 104–106 post-Second World War, 30 promotion of liberal democracy, 2, 31 relations with Central Asia, 39, 98, 101 relations with China, 8–9 relations with Europe, 8, 12, 20–6, 29, 31, 68, 97, 117 relations with Eurasia, 91–3, 96–7, 99, 101, 102, 106 relations with Iran, 13, 97, 103 relations with NATO, 29, 33, 36, 37, 106 relations with Russia, 8–10, 12–14, 24, 29, 39–40, 41–3, 44–8, 56, 58, 60–61, 63, 68, 91–3, 95–7, 99–102, 114 relations with the South Caucasus, 56, 58, 63–3, 67, 68, 77, 80 relations with the USSR, 4 relations with Turkey, 10, 12, 60–61 unilateralism of, 20–2

176 INDEX

war on terrorism, 12, 91–3 101, 104, 149 war in Afghanistan, 91, 96–7 war in Indochina, 2, 20, 22, 106, 117 Uzbekistan, 13, 89, 91, 99 Vietnam War, 20 as analogy for future conflict, 22, 117 impact on US foreign policy, 2, 117 Veremis, Thanos, 22 Voltaire, 27 Wallander, Celeste, 13–14 Warsaw Pact, 18, 33, 37 weapons of mass destruction (WMD, see also, chemical and biological weapons and nuclear weapons), 96 women, rape of, 107 trafficking of, 20, 142 World Bank (see International Bank for Recontruction and Development) World Trade Organization (WTO), 18, 21, 91 Russian desire for membership of, 40, 95 Yeltsin, Boris, 35, 66 Yugoslavia, 7–8, 15, 27, 31 former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, 108–110, 158 groups whose security was threatened within, 108, 112 UN involvement in the former Yugoslavia, 108–10, 113–16 wars of succession, 19, 27, 31, 106–24 Yugoslav National Army, 108