Hans Rustad Russlands synkende innflytelse har ikke ført til noen besinnelse, kun et dårlig selvbilde og et ønske om oppmerksomhet og innflytelse for enhver pris. Derfor går Russlands rolle mer og mer ut på å spille rollen som «vanskelig», som beskytter røverstater og blokkerer vestlige initiativ.
Denne rasjonale bak Russlands politikk er heller ikke noe norske medier belyser. Det er en nasjon i tilbakegang, økonomisk og demografisk vi ser, og Putin-systemet har ikke noe svar, annet enn å si nyet.
Rollen som bråkmaker og bølle (jfr. Georgia) er noe som burde interessere land som deler grenser og økonomiske soner med Russland.
Once upon a time, the two powers bargained in good faith. Back in the Boris Yeltsin years, for instance, Russia allowed U.S. operatives to enter the region and help bring nukes back from Ukraine and Kazakhstan after the fall of the Soviet Union—an act Moscow would now certainly see as an intolerable breach of sovereignty.
Today, obstructing the United States is Russia’s main diplomatic gambit, and it’s not hard to see why. It no longer commands a train of satellite nations, competitors in the region (notably China) are gaining ground, and its economy is tanked. As Moscow’s power wanes, it clings to relevance the only way it knows how—by playing the nuisance card.
To remain important, Russia has to be seen as an obstacle. «Russia’s policymakers are totally lacking strategic vision of the world,» says Nikita Zagladin, a senior analyst at the Institute of World Economy and International Relations in Moscow. «They are neurotic about other countries ignoring Russia, consigning her to the status of a former superpower.» That is why, in a vain grasp at international clout, Moscow has allied itself with pariah regimes like Venezuela, Syria, and even Iran. (Now, the road to cutting off those baddies runs through Moscow.) At the same time, it has made a point of vetoing any and every U.S. security initiative in Europe.
Ikke noe illustrerer Russlands negative rolle bedre enn holdningen til det amerikanske rakettskjoldet. Russland blåste seg voldsomt opp over planene om å utstasjonere radar og antirakett-raketter i Polen og Tsjekkia. Russland hevdet det var for å oppnå førsteslagsevne. Men russiske raketter mot USA går ikke vestover, de går over Nordpolen og østover.
Barack Obama syntes ikke rakettskjoldet var verdt prisen, og nedgraderte rakettene og plasserte dem i Bulgaria og Romania, på god avstand av Russland. Likevel presterer utenriksminister Sergej Ivanov å si at denne versjonen er enda verre enn den forrige.
Washington furnished a less-threatening alternative last week: SM-3 interceptors to be deployed in the Black Sea territorial waters of Romania and Bulgaria, 400 miles from Russia—a solution that the Kremlin itself suggested a year ago during talks with Hillary Clinton. But suddenly that’s «just as bad or even worse,» according Deputy Prime Minister Sergei Ivanov.
Denne reaksjonen demonstrerer Moskvas svakhet: protest for protestens skyld. Politikken har ikke noe sakelig innhold. Man forsvarer ikke genuine interesser. Kun symbolpolitikk.
In fact, there’s nothing Washington could propose that Moscow would agree to, and it has nothing do with the missile shield (SM-3s have a range of 300 miles and it takes 10 of them to shoot down a single advanced missile). It’s because opposition is an all-purpose diplomatic lever to bargain for what Russia needs. Keeping NATO’s influence out of Russia’s front yard is probably the most important Kremlin objective. But staying at the table of top nations is important to Moscow’s pride too—and making problems is an effective, if not very constructive, way to make the world take you seriously.
Dette er ikke en kommentar fra en amerikansk høyrekonservativ, men fra Owen Matthews i liberale Newsweek.
Det er en utvikling russiske myndigheter ikke liker. De forsøker å påvirke journalistikken og skremme Newsweek.
Sist uke ble det lagt ut en video på nett som viste redaktøren for den russiske utgaven av Newsweek som snortet kokain og hadde sex.
THE video shows Mikhail Fishman, editor of the Russian edition of Newsweek magazine, sitting on a sofa in T-shirt and jeans, next to a young woman wearing only a shirt.
Caught by two hidden cameras, Fishman leans over a stool where he cuts what appears to be a line of cocaine, then snorts it. He leans back on the sofa, smiling at the girl, then moves towards her.
The grainy film cuts to a scene in which Fishman, 37, walks naked to the sofa, his clothes strewn around. He puts on his underpants before taking another snort.
In separate sequences, also filmed surreptitiously, Fishman and two opposition activists appear to be offering to bribe a traffic policeman.
The editor, who denies bribery, was advised not to comment on the sex and drugs allegations after the film was posted on the internet last week. «I’ve no doubt that the security services played a role in this,» he said. «This was a well planned operation. I was followed and set up.
«I don’t yet know who exactly is behind it but clearly it’s an attempt to force us to change our editorial policy. It’s a signal to all independent journalists to keep a low profile.»
Fishman, who is married, was the latest victim of what Russia’s beleaguered opposition believes is a burgeoning smear campaign against critics of the Kremlin.
Ilya Yashin, an opposition activist, recognised the woman in the Fishman video. He had been lured to the same flat. «I was there,» Yashin wrote in his blog. «Her name is Katya Gerasimova, nicknamed Moomoo, and she works in a modelling agency.»
Dr. No
Russia’s new diplomatic strategy is cheap and counterproductive. But playing the pest is the only way for Moscow to claim relevance.
