If Russia places an embargo on your country’s most popular edible exports, chances are the Kremlin is none too pleased with you. Moscow’s most recent political collateral is Ukrainian chocolate, banned from the Russian market July 29. This week, Russia stopped importing Ukrainian goods almost entirely.
After claiming to find traces of the carcinogen benzopyrene in the Ukrainian sweets, Russia’s consumer standards agency, Rospotrebnadzor, stopped import of chocolates from Ukraine’s infamous Roshen company, which garners about $40 million in profit from the Russian market per year. The confectioner’s other top markets–Moldova, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan and Belarus–continued to import the chocolate, however, as they found no evidence of carcinogens.
In the past, Russia’s political disagreements have sparked embargoes on Polish meat (Russian babushki could only dream of Polish kielbasa from 2005-2007), Belarusian dairy, and Georgian wine (happily returning to the Russian market this year).
Ukraine, however, was not lucky enough to escape with only one affected market. Yesterday, Moscow launched what many are describing as a full-on trade war against Kyiv. All Ukrainian goods have been labelled potentially dangerous, and are subject to lengthy inspections before crossing the border into the territory of the Eurasian Customs Union of Russia, Belarus, and Kazakhstan.
As Ukraine’s economy is heavily reliant on exports, 23.7% of which go to Russia, this is a serious issue for Kyiv, but not entirely unexpected; Moscow’s seemingly drastic actions are intended to pressure Ukraine into shunning the EU’s offers of Free Trade and Association Agreements in favor of beefing up its ties with Russia and joining the Eurasian Customs Union.
It’s a poorly thought out move on Russia’s part. Though the cessation of Russian exports could be devastating to Ukraine’s economy, Russia’s bullying might finally inspire the EU to decisive action; Ukraine has had a less than stellar reform record and has done little to curry favor with Brussels, so hopes for an association agreement at the Eastern Partnership’s Vilnius Summit this fall were murky at best.
But Russia’s pressure on the Ukrainian economy–not to mention the obvious motivation behind it–has a chance of awakening the EU’s hero gene, which has played a decisive role in the dissipation of regional conflicts in Georgia, Belarus, and Ukraine itself in the past ten years. The Russian government’s short-term memory is shockingly bad; its economic strong-arming was one of the major causes of the Orange Revolution. This time around, the EU has the bureaucratic structure (the EaP) and a few well-respected pro-Ukraine cheerleaders (Poland, Sweden) that will look past Ukraine’s failings and use an Association Agreement as a shield against an increasingly aggressive Russia.
It seems that among its “carcinogenic” chocolate, Ukraine has found its golden ticket to the West.
This post is part of my series on Polish-Russian relations. Read the introduction here.
In my last post, I discussed how “Georgia shock” in the wake of the 2008 Russia-Georgia War led Poland to finally establish the Eastern Partnership Program by capitalizing on Europe’s sudden realization that Russia maybe, just maybe, could one day pose a threat to the continent.
Feeling threatened by Russia was nothing new for Poland; even after it brought down the communist system in 1989, defending itself against its eastern neighbor was high on its priority list, and rightly so. If you lived in a country that had been partitioned, attacked, and occupied by a neighboring state all in the span of two hundred years, you’d probably feel threatened too. Poland responded to Russia’s aggressive tendencies through a more active use of Western security apparatuses, a decision which has solidified Poland’s position as a major central European power and continually aggravates Polish-Russian relations.
Since 2002, American plans to establish a NATO Missile Defense system in northern Poland have been on the books in some form or another. The Bush Administration announced its deal to place missile interceptors in Poland (in exchange for some fighter jets and America’s thanks) in 2002. Obama quickly rolled back the Bush plan–which had solicited the criticism of most Western European capitals and the ire of Moscow–in 2009, during the age of the short-lived US-Russia Reset. (Unfortunately for his administration, the move was announced on the anniversary of the Soviet WWII invasion of Poland. Oops.) Instead, Obama favored a “phased adaptive approach,” which would deploy interceptors to Poland much later. In March, this plan was further delayed, but Russia continues to demand that the NATO shield in Poland will never be used against it. Unsurprisingly, NATO has refused to give this assurance.
Poland has–understandably–been a little peeved with the US for not delivering on a decade’s worth of promises. As Ian Brzezinski of the Atlantic Council writes, the American track record has caused Poland to think that, for the US, “security relations with Central Europe [are]…a trade-off in the effort to build a partnership with Russia.”
The United States is not only making light of the important Polish-American relationship (Poland was a longtime supporter of American efforts in both Iraq and Afghanistan), but missing the important role it could play in either reconciling Poland and Russia (at least in terms of missile defense) or asserting American defense dominance over Putin’s playground.
Rather than attempting to placate Russia by changing plans for the shield and subsequently offending Poland (again), the United States–and NATO–need to make a choice. NATO may have been born in an answer to Cold War-era defense, but the organization has long been searching for its post-Cold War identity. Perhaps this new identity should include regionally-based cooperation on issues like missile defense. It’s a wild and slightly naive notion, particularly since the US and Russia have such a hard time cooperating on less contentious issues (civil society, for instance). The US has floated the idea before, and was met with much feather ruffling in both Warsaw and Moscow. Unfortunately, we haven’t pushed the envelope since then.
If we aren’t willing to take the high road, at the very least we should be willing to publicly admit that a missile defense system in Poland might one day be used in defense of our allies against not just Iran, not just Russia, but any potential aggressor.
The pressure is on for Obama to cancel an upcoming meeting with Vladimir Putin over Russia’s granting of asylum to NSA whistleblower Edward Snowden. In Congress, representatives of both parties including Chuck Schumer (D-NY) and John McCain (R-AZ) are calling for the White House to pull out of the meeting, at the very least, while others call for more serious repercussions.
Were Obama to concede and cancel the meeting–which he seems to be seriously considering–the move would be nothing short of diplomatic child’s play. Russia, like a bully on the playground, has stolen something we want while we had our backs turned. It won’t share! So now we’re giving it the silent treatment. Ouch.
And what does it say about the United States that this is the issue we move to “extremes” over? We could have reacted as sharply when Russia unceremoniously booted our USAID mission from the country last fall. Or over concerns about the upcoming Sochi Winter Olympics. Or–perhaps most importantly for the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize and supposed gay rights “champion”–as disturbing trends emerge in the wake of Russia’s anti-gay law.
Instead, we’re most concerned about the fate of a twentysomething who caused us some embarrassment on the international stage. Whose image image needs bolstering now?
This post is a part of my series on Polish-Russian relations. Read the introduction here.
Getting in and getting to work
I’ve spent a good portion of the last six years battling the “three Ps” of Poland: pierogi, piwo (beer), and polka. Those who specialize in Polish studies lament the fact that most Westerners are familiar with only these three facets of Polish culture, and not Poland’s major accomplishments in the past twenty years, including the first democratic elections in the former Communist bloc and a successful capitalist economic policy that has left its economy (nearly) untouched, even in the face of the global economic crisis.
Over the past five years, Poland has attempted to put these experiences to good use, serving as a model and mentor for six “Eastern” countries in need of guidance via the Eastern Partnership Program (EaP).
Aiding its neighbors in their political and economic transitions was always one of Poland’s goals after it “returned to Europe,” becoming an EU member in 2004. But the EU wasn’t quite so gung ho; it was wary of taking on the financial burden of weak Eastern economies, and faced criticism for granting Romania and Bulgaria accession before they reformed fully. Its European Neighborhood Policy, the EaP’s predecessor, which vaguely sought to promote stability in Europe’s widely-defined near-abroad (including North Africa and the Middle East, along with Eastern and Southern Europe), was criticized by post-Communist countries for lacking incentive–in particular, the distant promise of accession–for neighboring countries to reform. It seemed that enlargement fatigue had set in among “Old Europe,” and that Poland would have to wait to change the course of its neighbors’ history.
Georgia Shock gives the EaP a green light
The realization that the EU needed some sort of coherent Eastern policy hit the organization in the form of the August 2008 five-day war between Russia and Georgia. Though the cause of the war was ostensibly mounting tension between the two countries over breakaway republics South Ossetia and Abkhazia, many experts view NATO’s promise of membership for Georgia and Ukraine earlier that year as the true cause of Russia’s provocation.
Regardless of the reasons for the conflict, the popular opinion of Russia in the EU plummeted after the EU-negotiated peace treaty was signed. The Union’s big brother to the East was now seen as belligerent. Speaking in support of Georgia, Polish President Lech Kaczynski worried about Russia’s next move: “Today Georgia, tomorrow Ukraine, the day after tomorrow the Baltic states, and then, perhaps, the time will come for my country, Poland.”*
“Georgia Shock” allowed Poland to gain support for the Eastern Partnership Program, pioneered by Polish Prime Minister Radek Sikorski and his Swedish counterpart Carl Bildt, a longtime critic of Russia. When attempting to ascertain exactly what the EaP’s goals are, the curious soul is generally sent into a tailspin of bureaucratic jargon. Put simply: the EU gives monetary and moral support to its six “Eastern Partners” (Belarus, Ukraine, Moldova, Azerbaijan, Armenia and Georgia) to aid them on the path to EU accession. More reforms and more “harmonization” with EU policies and standards leads to more monetary support, and somewhere down the road, the signing of Deep and Comprehensive Free Trade Agreements (DCFTAs) and Association Agreements with the EU, two steps that are precursors to membership itself.
While none of Russia’s attacks were directed at Poland specifically, the Kremlin was well-aware that Poland acted as the EaP’s champion in Euro politics and, along with Sweden, contributed the lionshare of the $560 million in aid the program doled out. And Russia was not soon to forget Poland’s support of Ukraine’s 2004 anti-Russian Orange Revolution. A Russian acquaintance of mine summed the situation up nicely: “if not for Poland’s meddling, Russia would be prepared to engage in normal, peaceful relations with Poland, as it does with the other countries in the former socialist camp.”
Vilnius Summit 2013 and Beyond Luckily for Russia, the Eastern Partnership hasn’t been extremely successful. Poorly funded from the beginning ($560 million from the entire EU is really a paltry amount for countries as troubled as these six), the global economic crisis forced the EaP to the bottom of the EU’s priorities. Faced with economic problems of their own and wavering EU support, countries like Belarus and Ukraine courted further support from Russia. Frozen conflicts in the South Caucasus remain unresolved, while highly corrupt, anti-reform regimes retain their firm grip on national politics. Only little Moldova seems to exude a glimmer of hope for ever achieving EU accession.
This month, Lithuania assumed the EU presidency. As one of the main supporters of the Eastern Partnership with its own transitional experiences to share, Lithuania and other EaP supporters have big plans for this fall’s EaP summit in Vilnius. Poland in particular sees the summit as a defining moment for its flagship program, for the future of Ukraine, and for the future of Polish-Russian relations.
In Foreign Minister Sikorski’s yearly address to the Polish congress this past March, he discussed Ukraine’s “fundamental dilemma…a choice between modernity and democracy on the one hand and a different civilizational model on the other. If Ukraine creates the conditions for the signing of an Association Agreement, Poland will provide the country with a ‘European perspective’ at the Eastern Partnership Summit in Vilnius.”
Russia’s repeated response has been to present Ukraine with an ultimatum: either Ukraine chooses the European path, or reaps the benefits of open borders and increased trade with Russia and its Customs Union, an argument that President Putin made most recently during a joint Russian-Ukranian celebration of the 1025th anniversary of the baptism of the ancient state of Kievan Rus. Based on cultural and historical similarities, Putin maintained that Ukraine belongs with Russia, not Europe.
While Ukraine and the other five Eastern partners continue to play the field and reap the benefits of two major powers attempting to maintain their influence and relevance, the Eastern Partnership will remain a bilateral sticking point between Poland and Russia no matter the choices made by EaP countries. The goals of Russian and Polish foreign policy are diametric opposites, and that won’t be reconciled any time soon.
Commit or Quit However, if the EU made the Eastern Partnership a policy priority, positive changes could occur in regards to both Polish-Russian relations and the EU’s influence in the East. The EU should fund the EaP as seriously as any aid program within its own borders. By adequately funding the Eastern Partnership, the EU would ensure that Russia did not view the EaP as “a partnership structured against Russia,” funded and coordinated by its number one critics. This support would, in turn, reduce the risk of dangerous political and economic developments, troublesome not only for Eastern partners but the EU members with which they share borders and the Union as a whole. Lastly, increased support would send a positive message to Eastern partners, ensuring them that the EU’s promises are not empty, while informing Russia that the EU means business, whether that business is palatable to Russia or not.
The plight of the Eastern partners isn’t only Poland and its post-Communist neighbors’ cross to bear. The EU strives for a Europe “whole, free, and at peace.” If that’s truly the case, it should reaffirm its commitment to the Eastern Partnership at the Vilnius Summit, and perhaps the EaP and Poland’s “meddling” will cease to be a bilateral issue between Poland and Russia. Then they’ll only have history, energy, defense, and conspiracy theories to worry about…
*Lukasz Kulesa, “Poland’s Policy Regarding the Georgian Conflict.” Yearbook of Polish Foreign Policy 01 (2009): 207-22.
Polish-Russian relations. The very connotation of the phrase is packed with a millenium of history. It causes journalists to slough off their descriptions of the problem as “complicated,” and has inspired no dearth of poor quips from academics such as “you could write a book or two about that.”
As is the case with most stereotypes, those describing the “unique” Polish-Russian relationship exist because they are rooted in truth. I’ve lived and breathed Polish-Russian relations for the past six years, and I don’t see the topic getting any less interesting or important as Russia maintains its pseudo-imperialist rhetoric and Poland’s influence in Europe continues to grow…though sometimes I suspect I’m the only one that feels that way.
My interest in Poland and its troubled ties with its Eastern neighbor are embedded in my very person. I am a Polish-American; my grandfather found himself in the United States in 1952 after being deported from Eastern Poland (now Ukraine) by the Soviets at the start of the Second World War, living several years in a work camp in northern Russia, traveling the Former Soviet Union and Middle East with the Anders Army, and finally, marrying in England before emigrating to the US. Understandably, my first childhood associations with Russia were none too kind. As a college student, I decided to pursue a Slavic language and since Polish wasn’t offered at my university, I took up Russian, falling in love with the language, culture, and people.
A few years later, as a student in Russia, I was surprised that my Polishness often helped me connect with native Russians. They referred to me as their “Slavic sister,” or even “svoi chelovek”–one of ours. I was both honored and befuddled. Where was the animosity I expected?
Oddly enough, the Smolensk plane crash, in which Polish President Kaczynski and nearly 100 other Polish dignitaries were killed on their way to a Katyn Massacre commemoration ceremony, furthered my sense that there might yet be hope for Polish-Russian reconciliation. In Saint Petersburg, my teachers and friends offered me their condolences after the tragedy. At the leadership level, the two nations seemed to be acting diplomatically or even civilly toward each other for the first time in recent memory. And this progress was squandered to feed the propaganda monster that still rages in both post-communist countries today.
As I see it, the antagonism between the two nations is fueled by four categories of disagreement: Poland’s attempts to bring countries like Ukraine and Belarus into the European fold through the EU’s Eastern Partnership program, Poland’s plans to allow a NATO missile shield on its soil, economic disagreements, particularly as related to energy politics in region, and lastly, the years of history and bad blood propagandized by both countries whenever a new disagreement flares up.
On Wednesdays over the next few weeks, Wiczipedia will be offering a primer on current Polish-Russian relations. Unlike the Russian and Polish media, which rarely offer unbiased accounts of relations, and the American media, which oversimplifies the issues surrounding them, I will provide the unique understanding of a Polish-American student of Russia and its environs. I hope you’ll join me for the ride!
On Thursday, June 27, the Center for Strategic and International Studies hosted a discussion on the security concerns surrounding the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics with Sergei Markedonov, a visiting fellow with CSIS’s Russia and Eurasia Program. Markedonov presented his main concerns regarding the security of the Sochi Games, launching in just seven months.
I was lucky enough to spend a week in Sochi in 2010, as Russia began its preparations for the Games. The gorgeous mountains, seaside, and Olympic propaganda plastered on every billboard revealed little of the region’s precarious geopolitical position and fraught ethnic history. Of course, I dug deeper, both during my trip in interactions with locals and as a graduate student. What follows–I hope–is a digestible primer on the issues surrounding the 2014 Winter Olympics, based on my own knowledge and views presented by Markedonov.
Sochi is located between the Black Sea and the famed North Caucasus mountains (the range where the Ancient Greeks thought Prometheus was chained to his famed rock). Sochi was enveloped by the Russian empire in the late 19th century after the Caucasian War, and since then, it has developed the reputation of Russia’s “Summer Capital,” where good Russian and Soviet citizens–the last Tsars, Stalin*, and Putin among them–flock to get their fill of sea air and sunbathing.
That’s what you’d find on the back of a postcard, anyway. Markedonov has a different view of regional geography: he finds Sochi’s proximity to instability paramount. The city is situated just 200 kilometers from the Russian republic of Kabardino-Balkaria, which Markedonov cited as the third most active terrorist zone in Russia. While terrorist activity in the North Caucasus region has declined in recent years, a Dagestani militant group has openly threatened the 2014 Games.
The causes of these protracted conflicts are varied and impossible to pinpoint, yet all have at least a shade of nationalism at their core. The Caucasian War, which brought more than 50 indigenous ethnic groups into the Russian Empire largely against their will, fomented these nationalist feelings. The end of the war was sealed with the forcible expulsion and eradication of one of the ethnic groups–the Circassians–from the region, referred to by many academics, human rights activists, and anti-Russian governments as the Circassian Genocide. The Circassian Congress claims 400,000 ethnic Circassians were killed, while 497,000 were forced to migrate to Turkey, leaving only 80,000 ethnic Circassians in their native lands at the end of the Caucasian war.
On top of terrorism and genocide, Sochi is also in close proximity to the international conflict between Russia and neighboring Georgia, which resulted in armed conflict in August 2008. Since the Five Day War, the disputed territories of South Ossetia and Abkhazia, which fall within Georgia’s borders, have become de facto Russian republics, cut off from Georgia and its government. Russian-Georgian reconciliation has been essentially non-existent; until Bidzina Ivanishvili was elected as Prime Minister last fall, the Georgian government threatened to boycott the 2014 Games. And who can blame them, with threat of terrorism, the ghost of genocide, and ongoing international disputes surrounding the host city?
With seven months before the opening of the Games, Russia has some scrambling to do to improve Sochi 2014’s image at home and abroad. Markedonov posited that with “creativity in public relations” and “a high standard of security service and inter-ethnic understanding,” the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics might just get off the ground without incident. Russia, of course, cannot afford “incidents.” The Games are of symbolic importance to the country; being the first held in Russia since the fall of the Soviet Union, Markedonov believes they represent Russia’s return to the “major leagues” of international policy.
I have no doubts regarding Russia’s ability to create a physically secure environment for Sochi 2014. They’ll just send in rows of OMON–riot police–like they have for years. Add a few security checkpoints, no doubt ethnically targeted, and the event will be secure in Russia’s eyes. But public relations and inter-ethnic understanding have never been Russia’s strong suit, and the very security precautions taken in 2014 may simply provide new fodder for old conflicts.
*Interesting fact: Stalin had a summer house in Sochi, complete with bunker and underground tunnel to the shore. You can visit it when you’re in town for the Olympics.
I was thrilled to be headed back to Gdańsk again. Something about the flat, Germanic facades and the history of Solidarity, arguably one of the most influential social movements of the 20th Century, invigorated me. Łukasz (my second cousin once removed, a “close relation,” according to my mom) and I sped along Highway 1, recently completed for the 2012 EuroCup. Like many things I noticed since touching down in Warsaw (the welcoming pink placards and shiny glass everything at Chopin Airport, the presence of multilingual signs, cleaner, brighter public spaces), so much of Poland’s infrastructure had been positively influenced by EU funds. Since my last visit, three years ago, Poland had become noticeably more European.
Just as I remembered, the shipyard cranes soon peaked up above the horizon. The features of the lively city — blocks of flats, billboards for new, Western-style shopping malls, and the outline of the Old Town — began to appear.
We parked and set off on foot in the direction of the Old Town’s main market. Thanks to the annual St. Dominic’s street fair and a brisk but sunny August day, the downtown was teeming with tourists and consumerism. Tents selling tiny, hand-painted cat figurines, trendy clothing, World War II-era antiques, and plenty of food snaked along squares, side streets, and the waterfront.
Music drifted across the rynek from open air cafes, but one melody with a more lilting, exotic tonality caught my ear. I turned to see a small girl with light, ratty hair and sad eyes sitting on a stool in the shadow of St. Mary’s Basilica, playing a tiny accordion that could have been from a nearby antique booth. On the ground in front of her stood her case, with a few measly złoty inside, and a hand-scrawled sign that read, in Polish, “money for a new accordion.”
“She’s pretty good,” I said to Łukasz, who was about to snap a photo of her. And then I realized that she wasn’t your average child street performer. Maybe it was her hair that had thrown me off. Maybe it was because we were in Poland, in Gdańsk. But there she was. A blonde, Polish-speaking, accordion-playing gypsy.
(Forgive my use of the politically incorrect term. My brain–like most Western brains, I suspect–is littered with words I would never dare use in a public, analytical forum. But, as this corner of the internet is a place for honest introspection about “Eastern” issues, I’m trying to provide you with a dose of truth.)
Łukasz decided against taking a photo. “As a photographer, it’s hard to walk by something like that,” he explained, “but you don’t want to perpetuate it.” I tried to wrap my mind around what he meant, but I had a hard enough time looking ahead as we walked toward lunch. Strains of the little girl’s melody kept making their way to my ears.
We sat down to eat at a seafood restaurant on the waterfront and ordered a few beers. A chesnut-skinned, dark-haired woman came up to Łukasz and asked him something that I didn’t quite catch in hushed Polish. He shooed her away. I raised an eyebrow. “She was just panhandling. Selling perfume.”
Curious. Two gypsy sightings in one day. In Russia, I had two sightings over a period of six months in a crowded metro car.
And then I became aware of a presence behind me. No–three presences. Three young girls had wedged themselves between the back of my chair and the table next to ours. They stood behind me silently, palms outstretched. They stood so close I could feel their breath on my neck. A waitress came by and they scurried away, repeating the process at other tables and restaurants along the waterfront.
After about a half hour of this cat and mouse, an argument erupted between the group of girls, their mother, and the waitress. The oldest daughter was yelling and cursing (in what was perfect Polish to my ears) at the waitress, who was threatening to call the police. The girls’ mother joined in, screaming in her accented Polish, turning heads all along the waterfront in her direction. The oldest daughter defiantly stuck her hand out and honked the waitress’s right breast. The waitress, turning a deep shade of red, took a deep breath and ordered them away. The family walked down the waterfront and out of sight.
These experiences seemed anachronistic in the “new” Poland I had observed over the past few days, but with European status come European problems; namely, how to respect the human rights of a population you would really prefer to not have around.
According to the Visegrad Mayors for Roma Inclusion Forum, there are between 15 and 20 thousand ethnic Roma in Poland, a statistic supported by the Union of Polish Roma. The population has undergone significant changes in the last thirty years; after the attempted systematic destruction of Roma culture and tradition by the communist regime, in the era of privatization many Roma who had become more assimilated lost access to social services–including free healthcare, schooling, and guaranteed employment–on which they depended. Since 2000, 60% of the Roma population has emigrated to other European countries as a result of EU travel liberalization policies. And yet the Roma are still the “least tolerated minority in Poland.”
Poland’s Roma intolerance extends past the denial of basic social and welfare services. As reported by Amnesty International, in April 2013 the city government of Wrocław notified the local Roma population that it would be evicted from an informal settlement housing more than 60 people, including children. In a letter to the mayor, community representatives underscore their attempts to assimilate, and desire to remain Wrocław residents: “We feel a part of this city. We have nowhere to go. Can we ask you to let us settle somewhere else in the city?” In early May, Polish Radio reported that the eviction decision lay with the city court, though if affirmed, the city would offer social housing alternatives for the community.
Poland is hardly the only EU member state that has had difficulty reconciling its European identity with fair treatment of its Roma population, nor is it the state with the worst record. But events like those unfolding in Wrocław mar Poland’s image of the democratic Eastern leader that it tries so hard to project.