A Forgotten History
If the narrative we followed brought us to this, of what use was the narrative?
(Contributor/Getty Images)
We live in an age where the narrative
is king. What is true, what is false, what is fact, what is fiction:
These are distinctions that have been rendered meaningless by the power
of the narrative.
Consider: How many people do you suppose remain convinced that it was Russia that paved Donald Trump’s way from Page Six to
the presidency? Allegations of collusion between the Trump campaign and
the Russian government is a conspiracy theory as wild and improbable as
Pizzagate. Shown to be false by both the Mueller and Durham reports, the idea that Hillary Clinton owes her loss to a foreign power—rather than to herself and an inept campaign—remains an article of faith among millions of our fellow citizens thanks to the power of the narrative.
Today, U.S. foreign policy confronts no bigger challenge than the war in Ukraine. And here the narrative is simplicity itself: There would have been no war but for Vladimir Putin the Aggressor. As such, Ukraine ought to be seen as the West’s first line of defense, or, as Russiagate’s most toxically dishonest partisan Adam Schiff has said, the U.S. must aid Ukraine so “we can fight Russia over there, and we don’t have to fight Russia here.”
This narrative leaves little, if any, room for the actual
history of the conflict between Russia and the West. Yet correct
prescription requires correct diagnosis, and, as it pertains to the war
in Ukraine, the narrative—whatever its uses to the elite in stirring up
the passions of the media and the mob against this, America's latest
foreign enemy du jour—necessarily obscures the nature of the current crisis.
The task of bringing clarity to this climate of fog and lies is often a thankless task, at best.
But history matters. And Russia’s history, replete as it has been
with invasions across its vast, indefensible Eurasian steppe, has not
yet been, as it has been here in 21st century America, relegated to the
province of books and movies and museums. No, Russia has a tradition of zhivaya istoriya,
or living history. And if the memories of the suffering endured by
Russians during the Second World War remain fresh, the memories of the
humiliating post-Soviet decade of the 1990s—during which Russia
experienced the largest economic and demographic collapse ever record in
peacetime—remains more so.
And so, the legacy of the forty-year Cold War are alive and well in
the minds of Russia’s current generation of leaders, perhaps especially
so in the mind of its paramount leader, who rather helplessly witnessed
the collapse of the Soviet empire from an outpost in Dresden.
Post-Soviet legacies are, if anything, even more germane to the
current crisis in East-West relations. David P. Calleo, a longtime
professor of political science at the John Hopkins School of Advanced
International Studies, once tartly observed that “American statesmanship
seems to have been a good deal more enlightened at the beginning of the
Cold War than after its end.” The proof of this is in how U.S.
policymakers, including the sitting president, bungled the U.S.-Russian
relationship in the post-Soviet era.
The expectation widely accepted and promoted in the aftermath of the
Cold War, that Russia would meekly agree to play a subservient role to
the American imperium and allow what had been its wide sphere of
influence in Eastern Europe and Central Asia to be reduced to staging
posts and landing strips for NATO, was bound to be disappointed. The
idea that Russia would also accept American tutelage with regard to its
domestic political arrangements was even less grounded.
The West's failed, indeed disastrous, introduction of American-style
finance capitalism to Yeltsin’s Russia; the series of NGO-U.S.
government supported “color revolutions” on Russia’s periphery; the post
9/11 U.S. forever wars; and last but certainly not least the
American-led policy of NATO expansion, do much to explain the present,
perilous state of affairs.
For years, the U.S. national security establishment was warned by voices from the right, left, and center
that America needed to change its policy toward Russia. It was warned
that Russia could not be defeated in their near abroad. It was warned
that Kiev—by launching an “anti-terrorist” campaign against its Russian
speaking citizens—was recklessly antagonizing Russia. It was warned that
making a semi-deity out of a corrupt tool of Ukrainian oligarchs was an
obvious mistake. It was warned against conflating the interests of
ethno-nationalist far-right factions in Kiev and Lviv (and their allies
in Warsaw, Riga, Tallinn, and Vilnius) with U.S. national interests. It
was warned to take President Putin’s numerous protestations against NATO
expansion seriously.
Yet America’s bipartisan ruling elite decided to ignore these warnings, and the results speak for themselves.