
When was the last time you read about an out and out tank battle? I recognize I fall on the younger end of people who pay attention to such things, but for me, tank battles are a distinctly 20th century phenomenon. We're in the information age. Conflicts, to me, play out between terrorist nodes, networked special forces teams and house-to-house efforts to win over the locals. Tank warfare between two sovereign states (I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, Georgia) is downright retro.
I don't mean to be glib about the reality or brutality of what's happening in Georgia and South Ossetia. This past week has been a tragedy for families in those areas. But how did we regress back to tank battles in Eastern Europe? An article in the Economist exploring the roots of the conflict in Georgia brings to my mind a history lesson I think I heard when a sophomore in high school, about World War I. The thing that stuck out to me about The Great War, I remember, is how many petty, almost personal, were the rivalries and feuds that drove it from the beginning. Unlike World War II or the Cold War, it was "Great" only in the sense that it entailed massive loss of life, not because it bore out a huge gulf between opposing ideals.
So too, in Georgia, we find pettiness and national pride at mostly at stake on both sides. Writes the Economist:
Georgia was once the jewel of its empire, and Russia has never psychologically accepted it as a sovereign state. Nostalgia for the Soviet empire has long been the leitmotif of Russia's ideology. This month it re-enacted its fantasy with aircraft and ground troops...
The fact that Georgia is backed by the West made it a particularly appealing target. In fighting Georgia, Russia fought a proxy war with the West--especially with America (which had upgraded the Georgian army). All this was a payback for the humiliation that Russia suffered in the 1990s, and its answer to NATO's bombing of Belgrade in 1999 and to America's invasion of Iraq. "If you can do it, so can we," was the logic.
Russia was also drawing a thick red line on the map of Europe which the West and NATO should not cross. And, as in any war, there were powerful subjective reasons in play. Mr Putin's personal hatred of Mr Saakashvili, and his ability to deploy the entire Russian army to fulfil his vendetta, made war all but inevitable.
I suspect it would be a shock to most Americans that Russia sees in Georgia a proxy for its grievances with the West, particularly the United States; as President Bush has repeatedly said over the past few days, "the Cold War is over." But this is one example of many, I fear, in which the United States will pay dearly for its actions in Iraq; in Russia's eyes, we have no right to rebuke other countries for acting aggressively in pursuit of our national interest. Not to say that U.S. actions in Iraq are comparable with Russia's in Georgia--that's simply not the case. But it doesn't matter. The damage is done and Russia can get away with murder now. Again, from the Economist article cited above:
While its forces were dropping bombs on Georgia, the Kremlin bombarded its own population with an astonishing, even by Soviet standards, propaganda campaign. One Russian deputy reflected the mood: "Today, it is quite obvious who the parties in the conflict are. They are the US, UK, Israel who participated in training the Georgian army, Ukraine who supplied it with weapons. We are facing a situation where there is a NATO aggression against us."
In blue jeans and a sports jacket, Mr Putin, cast as the hero of the war, flew to the Russian side of the Caucasus mountain range to hear, first-hand, hair-raising stories from refugees that ranged from burning young girls alive to stabbing babies and running tanks over old women and children. These stories were whipped up into anti-Georgian and anti-Western hysteria. Russian politicians compared Mr Saakashvili to Saddam Hussein and Hitler and demanded that he face an international tribunal. What Russia was doing, it seemed, was no different from what the West had done in its "humanitarian" interventions.
There was one difference, however. Russia was dealing with a crisis that it had deliberately created. Its biggest justification for military intervention was that it was formally protecting its own citizens. Soon after Mr Putin's arrival in the Kremlin in 2000, Russia started to hand out passports to Abkhaz and South Ossetians, while also claiming the role of a neutral peacekeeper in the region. When the fighting broke out between Georgia and South Ossetia, Russia, which had killed tens of thousands of its own citizens in Chechnya, argued that it had to defend its nationals.
But as Mr Bildt argues, "we have reason to remember how Hitler used this very doctrine little more than half a century ago to undermine and attack substantial parts of central Europe." In the process of portraying Georgia as a fascist-led country, Russia was displaying the syndrome it was condemning.