The Caucasus Globalization

Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 1 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

THE INSTITUTE OF STRATEGIC STUDIES OF THE CAUCASUS

THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Journal of Social, Political and Economic Studies Conflicts in the Caucasus: History, Present, and Prospects for Resolution Special Issue Volume 6 Issue 1 2012

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Editorial Council

Eldar Chairman of the Editorial Council (Baku) ISMAILOV Tel/fax: (994 12) 497 12 22 E-mail: [email protected]

Kenan Executive Secretary (Baku) ALLAHVERDIEV Tel: (994 – 12) 596 11 73 E-mail: [email protected] Azer represents the journal in Russia (Moscow) SAFAROV Tel: (7 495) 937 77 27 E-mail: [email protected] Nodar represents the journal in Georgia (Tbilisi) KHADURI Tel: (995 32) 99 59 67 E-mail: [email protected]

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Editorial Board

Nazim Editor-in-Chief (Azerbaijan) MUZAFFARLI Tel: (994 – 12) 510 32 52 E-mail: [email protected] (IMANOV)

Vladimer Deputy Editor-in-Chief (Georgia) PAPAVA Tel: (995 – 32) 24 35 55 E-mail: [email protected]

Akif Deputy Editor-in-Chief (Azerbaijan) ABDULLAEV Tel: (994 – 12) 596 11 73 E-mail: [email protected] Volume 6 IssueMembers 1 2012 of Editorial Board: 3 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Zaza D.Sc. (History), Professor, Corresponding member of the Georgian National Academy ALEKSIDZE of Sciences, head of the scientific department of the Korneli Kekelidze Institute of Manuscripts (Georgia) Mustafa AYDIN Rector of Kadir Has University (Turkey) Irina BABICH D.Sc. (History), Leading research associate of the Institute of Ethnology and Anthropology, Russian Academy of Sciences (Russia) Douglas Professor, Chair of Political Science Department, Providence College (U.S.A.) W. BLUM Svante Professor, Research Director, Central Asia-Caucasus Institute, Silk Road Studies E. CORNELL Program, Johns Hopkins University-SAIS (U.S.A.) Parvin D.Sc. (History), Professor, Baku State University (Azerbaijan) DARABADI Murad D.Sc. (Political Science), Editor-in-Chief, Central Asia and the Caucasus, Journal of ESENOV Social and Political Studies (Sweden) Jannatkhan Deputy Director, Institute of Strategic Studies of the Caucasus (Azerbaijan) EYVAZOV Rauf Ph.D. (Psychology), Leading research associate of the Center for Strategic Studies GARAGOZOV under the President of the Azerbaijan Republic (Azerbaijan) Archil Ph.D. (Geography), Senior fellow at the Georgian Foundation for Strategic and GEGESHIDZE International Studies (Georgia) Elmir Director of the Department of Geoculture, Institute of Strategic Studies of the GULIEV Caucasus (Azerbaijan) Shamsaddin D.Sc.(Economy), Professor, Rector of the Azerbaijan State Economic University HAJIEV (Azerbaijan) Jamil HASANLI D.Sc. (History), Professor at Khazar University (Azerbaijan) Stephen Professor, Russian and Eurasian Studies, Mount Holyoke College (U.S.A.) F. JONES Akira Ph.D., History of Central Asia & the Caucasus, Program Officer, The Sasakawa MATSUNAGA Peace Foundation (Japan) Roger Senior Research Fellow, Department of Politics and International Relations, University MCDERMOTT of Kent at Canterbury; Senior Research Fellow on Eurasian military affairs within the framework of the Eurasia Program of the Jamestown Foundation, Washington (U.K.) Roin D.Sc. (History), Professor, Academician of the Georgian National Academy of METREVELI Sciences, President of the National Committee of Georgian Historians (Georgia) Fuad Ph.D. (Economy), Counselor of the Chairman of the Board of Directors of the MURSHUDLI International Bank of Azerbaijan (Azerbaijan) Michael Associate professor, Near Eastern Studies Department, Princeton University (U.S.A.) A. REYNOLDS Alexander Professor, President of Georgian Foundation for Strategic and International Studies RONDELI (Georgia) Mehdi SANAIE Professor, Tehran University, Director, Center for Russian Studies (Iran) Avtandil D.Sc. (Economy), Professor, Tbilisi University of International Relations, Corresponding SILAGADZE member of the Georgian National Academy of Sciences (Georgia) S. Frederick Professor, Chairman, Central Asia-Caucasus Institute, Johns Hopkins University-SAIS STARR (U.S.A.) James Professor, Director of the International and Regional Studies Program, Washington V. WERTSCH University in St. Louis (U.S.A.) Alla D.Sc. (History), Professor, head of the Mediterranean-Black Sea Center, The Institute YAZKOVA of Europe, Russian Academy of Sciences (Russia) Stanislav D.Sc. (Economy), Senior researcher, The Institute of World Economy and International ZHUKOV Relations, Russian Academy of Sciences (Russia)

The materials that appear in the journal do not necessarily reflect the Editorial Board and the Editors’ opinion

Editorial Office: THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION © The Caucasus & Globalization, 2012 98 Alovsat Guliyev, AZ1009 © CA&CC Press®, 2012 Baku, Azerbaijan © The Institute of Strategic Studies of WEB: www.ca-c.org the Caucasus, 2012 4 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Journal of Social, Political and Economic Studies Volume 6 Issue 1 2012

Conflicts in the Caucasus: History, Present, and Prospects for Resolution Special Issue

CONTENTS

PREFACE Nazim MUZAFFARLI 7

GEOPOLITICS

THE REGIONAL SECURITY SYSTEM IN THE CENTRAL CAUCASUS: POLITICAL STRUCTURE Jannatkhan AND CONFLICTS EYVAZOV 8

THE FORCE OF LAW AND THE USE OF FORCE Kamran IN INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS SHAFIEV 22

CONFLICTS IN THE POST-SOVIET SPACE: Alla AN ABKHAZIAN CASE-STUDY YAZKOVA 32 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 5 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

LEGITIMACY OF THE ESTABLISHMENT OF “THE NAGORNO-KARABAKH REPUBLIC” IN COMPLIANCE Przemys³aw WITH SOVIET LEGISLATION ADAMCZEWSKI 39

GREAT POWER PREDICAMENTS AND THEIR ROLE Hans-Joachim IN THE CAUCASUS CONFLICTS SPANGER 48

THE “VULTURES” OF Grigory THE CAUCASIAN PEOPLES TROFIMCHUK 57

GEO-ECONOMICS

ECONOMIC COMPONENT OF THE RUSSIAN-GEORGIAN Vladimer CONFLICT PAPAVA 61

THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF PROTRACTED CONFLICTS: ABKHAZIA, Giulia SOUTH OSSETIA, AND PRELZ VIOLENCE MITIGATION OLTRAMONTI 72

SOUTH CAUCASIAN ENERGY TRANSIT: PROBLEMS AND Alexander PROSPECTS KRYLOV 81

GEOCULTURE

THE FUTURE OF RELIGION IN THE CENTRAL CAUCASUS: FROM THE SOVIET UNION’S DISINTEGRATION Elmir TO THE NEW CAUCASIAN POLICY GULIEV 89

THE ABKHAZIAN-GEORGIAN CONFLICT: THE PAST AND Lyubov PRESENT OF ETHNOCULTURAL TIES SOLOVYEVA 111 6 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION GEOHISTORY

“THE IRANIAN EPOPEE” OF THE BOLSHEVIKS: THE DEEPENING CONFLICT IN THE SOUTHERN CASPIAN Jamil (1920-1921) HASANLI 119

EVOLUTION OF RUSSIA’S GEOPOLITICAL INTERESTS AND PRIORITIES Oleg IN TRANSCAUCASIA KUZNETSOV 145 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 7 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

P R E F A C E

Dear Readers!

The Institute of Strategic Studies of the Caucasus (ISSC) is preparing for an international conference called “Conflicts in the Caucasus: History, Present, and Prospects for Resolution.” The participants in this Conference will discuss not only those conflicts that have already led to wars and local armed clashes, but also the so-called latent conflicts, and since the ISSC’s understanding of the Caucasus comprises a much wider area than is generally accepted, the geographic range of topics has proven extremely extensive. Unfortunately, the Caucasus, this relatively small but incredibly rich and geostrategically important area, is currently one of the most conflict-prone regions of the world. More than twenty years have passed, but the Nagorno-Karabakh, Abkhazian, and South Ossetian conflicts in the Central Cau- casus and the Chechen conflict in the Northern Caucasus are still fraught with the risk of a resumption in hostilities. Several other ethnopolitical problems in the northern (the Russian Caucasus), southeastern (the Iranian Caucasus), and southwestern (the Turkish Caucasus) areas not only remain unresolved, but are gradually worsening and could become severely aggravated in the near future. The entire Caucasus continues to quietly simmer, ready to erupt at any moment, while it is clear that suppressed conflicts are often more explosive than open ones. Holding a discussion of the conflicts in the Caucasus is relevant not only and not so much in the academic respect as in the political-applied and practical context. Judging from the number of applications from potential participants, it is clear that the Conference is arousing great interest among the expert community, and not only at the regional, but also at the international level. We have received applications from more than 30 countries. Specialists in conflict proneness, the history of regional conflicts, the political and other aspects of their settlement and prevention, as well as in post-conflict rehabilitation of the affected territories have submitted more than 100 reports to the Conference Or- ganizing Committee. Many of them are interesting not only for a narrow range of conflict specialists, but also for a wider circle of experts, which has prompted us to publish a special volume of The Cau- casus & Globalization. All four issues of our journal for 2012 have been compiled from Conference reports. We hope that they will be interesting and beneficial not only for the expert community, but also for state officials making political decisions.

Editor-in-Chief The Caucasus & Globalization Nazim Muzaffarli 8 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

GEOPOLITICS

Jannatkhan EYVAZOV

Ph.D. (Political Science), Deputy Director of the Institute of Strategic Studies of the Caucasus, Deputy Editor-in-Chief of Central Asia and the Caucasus (Baku, Azerbaijan).

THE REGIONAL SECURITY SYSTEM IN THE CENTRAL CAUCASUS: POLITICAL STRUCTURE AND CONFLICTS

Abstract

n this article, the author assesses the poses of assessing conflict development in I impact of the political structure of a re- the region. The studies of the security sys- gional security system on its proneness tem of the post-Soviet Central Caucasus to conflict. Political factors (obviously not presented in the article suggest that the the only explanation for regional tension) specifics of the regional political structure belong to the sum-total of factors that were conducive to the emergence of armed should primarily be discussed for the pur- conflicts and their preservation.

Introduction

It is well known that the political structure of a region can either stimulate moderation in interstate relations or stir up conflicts among its states. Though the specifics of the political structure of a regional security system cannot be the only explanation for the conflicts in the region, an assessment of their relations is not only of theoretical but also of practical interest. In the post-Soviet Central Caucasus1 the regional security system has been developing amid sharp conflicts inside the regional states and between them, which ultimately plunged the region into

1 Here I rely on the geopolitical structuralization of the Caucasus suggested by Dr. Eldar Ismailov, who looks at the region as an entity of three spatial segments: the Northern (administrative units of the North Caucasian and South- Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 9 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION armed conflicts. The war between Armenia and Azerbaijan, as well as the Abkhazian and South Os- setian conflicts, put the region on the list of conflict-prone zones in the post-Cold War world. It should be said that the specifics of this region’s political structure contributed to the preservation of the conflicts. To correctly assess conflicts in the regional security system functioning in the post-Soviet Cen- tral Caucasus from the viewpoint of structural factors one should answer the following key questions: How do structural factors influence the development of the regional political systems? Within what macro-system should the Central Caucasus’ structural specifics be assessed? What are the general specifics of the conflicts and how are they related to the dynamics of the security relations between the regional states? What are the main parameters of instability of the regional political structure and how does it affect the conflicts in the region?

Structural Factors and the Development of Regional Political Systems: A Theoretical Approach

At the theoretical level, neorealism offers the most detailed explanation of the structural factors of the conduct of states. According to Kenneth N. Waltz, who was the first to formulate this theory, the structure of the international political system, which stems from interaction of its elements (states), is responsible for its conduct.2 The anarchical nature of the structure of the international system and the unevenness of power distribution have already created a situation in which survival is seen as the cornerstone of conduct in a world where the security of states remains highly vulnerable.3 This means that in the neorealist context the conduct of states is mainly determined by the material structure of the international political system. The classical conception of Regional Security Complexes (RSC) formulated by Barry Buzan4 is based on a similar approach; it is political factors, or rather the pattern according to which power is spread among the elements, which determine the functionality of RSCs. Here, as well as in the neo- ern Federal Districts of Russia); the Central Caucasus (the independent states of Azerbaijan, Armenia, and Georgia); and the Southern Caucasus (the northeastern ils of Turkey and the northwestern ostans of Iran) (see, for example: E. Is- mailov, Z. Kengerli, “The Caucasus in the Globalizing World: A New Integration Model,” Central Asia and the Cau- casus, No. 2 (20), 2003; E. Ismailov, V. Papava, The Central Caucasus: Essays on Geopolitical Economy, CA&CC Press® AB, Stockholm, 2006; E. Ismailov, V. Papava, Tsentralny Kavkaz: istoria, politika, ekonomika, Mysl Publish- ers, Moscow, 2007). 2 See: K.N. Waltz, Theory of International Politics, McGraw-Hill, Boston, 1979, pp. 91-92. 3 See: Ibid., p. 92. 4 The concept of regional security complexes was first formulated in 1983 by Barry Buzan in: B. Buzan, People, States and Fear: The National Security Problem in International Relations, Harvester Wheatsheaf, Hemel Hempstead, 1983. This work, as well as its second edition (B. Buzan, People, States and Fear. An Agenda for International Security Studies in the Post-Cold War Era, Second Edition, Lynne Rienner Publishers Boulder, Colorado, 1991), offered the classical approach to the security complexes conception. In later works written by Buzan together with other authors (B. Bu- zan, O. Wæver, J. de Wilde, Security. A New Framework for Analysis, Lynne Rienner Publishers Boulder, London, 1998; B. Buzan, O. Wæver, Regions and Powers, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2003), an attempt was made to go beyond the limits of the classical conception of security complexes. To remedy the main disparities between their present approach and the classical conception of security complexes (concentration on the military and political spheres of interstate relations and insufficient attention to the non-state actors, the conduct of which creates additional vectors of intersec- toral interdependence), the authors postulated two types of security complexes—homogeneous and heterogeneous—as well as the securitization conception. 10 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION realist approach, the conduct of states is determined by their strength/weakness. At the same time, the structuralism offered by Waltz and Buzan is not one and the same thing. Classical (Waltzian) neorealism looks at the structure of the international political system as the result of objective power differ- entiation among states (among the strongest of them) and ignores the factors at the regional and national level. Whereas Buzan in his initial RSC conception within the essential structure of the security complex in addition to the principle of the “arrangement of the units” and the “distribution of power among them,” envisages the “pattern of amity/enmity.”5 The latter allowed the author to assess the system-level stimulators together with the region-level and unit-level factors when assessing the functionality of an RSC. Later, the securitization conception underpinned this theory. On the whole, however, the political bias of the theory of regional security complexes (TRSC) was preserved, while the range of functional factors was widened and the dependence between them and the objective distribution of power in the international system was “loosened.” The classical neorealism of Kenneth N. Waltz related to assessing the functioning of the international political system deliberately leaves aside such social factors as the specifics of ethnic and confessional ties and relations. Barry Buzan, on the other hand, pointed out, within the scope of his classical conception of security complexes, that the forms and structure of the RSC are determined, among other things, by cultural (including religious and racial) factors, which create a strong, but not the main, impact.6 On the whole, however, they cannot compete with the political factors in terms of impact. The initial structuralism of the TRSC is obvious to all. Political relations and the distribution of power among the states of the RSC are responsible for the amity/enmity vectors in their relations.7 When Barry Buzan and Ole Wæver8 introduced a securitization category and thesis of the autonomy of this process in the TRSC, they moved quite far from the initial excessive structuralism of the theory. This means that the latest modernization of the TRSC suggests that ethnic and confessional factors are not merely catalysts but sometimes become independent securitization determinants in the RSC states and the corresponding security relations among them. In the theoretical-methodological respect, the securitization phenomenon allows the TRSC to rise from the “Procrustean bed” of positivism. In other words, Waltzian structure or, to be more exact, distribution of power in the system is not the main stimulator of the elements’ behavior. It is not the main trigger of securitization as well. As a relative phenomenon, the latter wholly depends on the actor: “Different actors securitize differently: different political and cultural situations enable securitization in different sectors and they have different dynamics.”9 This suggests that the central security interests of an actor are a product of the securitization process unfolding here and now and open to the impact of many factors, including classical political and other factors (ethnic and confessional) of the region’s social structure. In fact, the latest changes in the TRSC do not so much devalue the impact of structural factors on states’ conduct as try to fit them into the limits of individual regions and study them with due account of their regional specifics (ethnicities, confessions, the history of their relations, etc.). The structure itself, which is no longer an international but a regional political system, preserves its role as an important endogenous assessment parameter. The pattern of power distribution among the members of an RSC directly affects the stability/instability of its political structure.

5 B. Buzan, People, States and Fear. An Agenda for International Security Studies in the Post-Cold War Era, p. 211; B. Buzan, O. Wæver, J. de Wilde, op. cit., p. 13. 6 See: B. Buzan, People, States and Fear. An Agenda for International Security Studies in the Post-Cold War Era, p. 197. 7 See: Ibid., p. 190. 8 See: B. Buzan, O. Wæver, Regions and Powers: The Structure of International Security, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2003, pp. 86-87. 9 Ibid., p. 87. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 11 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION The Central Caucasus in the Security System of a Post-Soviet Region

The system that existed in the Soviet Union at the turn of the 1990s went through structural transformation which ended in the disintegration of the Soviet state and the appearance of fifteen newly independent states. In the context of security system evolution, this meant a transfer from one strictly hierarchical actor to a regional anarchical system or, to be more exact, to a regional security complex. The RSC that came into being in the post-Soviet space was very specific; its size and the structural and political features set it apart from standard RSCs10 within which security interests are closely connected because of geographic proximity11 and are localized by a geographically compact interstate constellation, and in which “the security dynamics of the region are not dominated from the unipolar power at its center.”12 According to Buzan and Wæver, the regional system of the post-So- viet space is a “centered great power regional security complex.”13 At the same time, the newly independent states formed their own local interstate systems—the regional security sub-complexes in the European part (Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia; Belarus, Moldova, and Ukraine); in the Caucasus (Azerbaijan, Armenia, and Georgia); and in Central Asia (Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan). The regional sub-systems were relatively autonomous, however Russia preserved its function of a center which bound them together into a “web” of interdependence of the Post-Soviet Security Macrocomplex (PSM). In this structure Russia was the only geopolitical actor that could consistently project its influence on the regional scale and it was the key security factor for all the newly independent states in all the sub-systems mentioned above. This meant that the development of local complexes and the dynamics of the security relations among the member states and their ties with the “external” power centers were dependent not only on the endogenous factors but also on Russia’s geopolitical activities. It is not my task here to discuss the stable/transitional nature of the PSM structure; I will limit myself to saying that during its evolution the PSM revealed certain changes which speak about its transitional nature.14 Today, after the twenty-odd years that have elapsed since the Soviet Union’s disintegration and in view of the structural changes that have already taken place during these two decades, the PSM consists of Russia and three RSCs: Central Europe,15 the Central Caucasus, and Central Asia.

10 The TRSC offers various types and forms of regional complexes; the most general typology distinguishes between standard and centered RSC. According to Barry Buzan and Ole Wæver, in the centered RSC, the dynamics of security relations are determined by one power found in its center. The authors go on to identify three forms (depending on the specifics of “the central actor”) of this type: centered on a great power—Russia in the post-Soviet space; on a superpow- er—the United States in North America; and, finally, on an institution (institutional RSC)—the European Union (see: B. Buzan, O. Wæver, op. cit., pp. 55-61). 11 See: B. Buzan, People, States and Fear. An Agenda for International Security Studies in the Post-Cold War Era, pp. 188, 189, 191, 195. 12 B. Buzan, O. Wæver, op. cit., p. 55. 13 Ibid., pp. 55, 62, 343. 14 For more detail, see: J. Eyvazov, “Some Aspects of the Theory of Regional Security Complexes as Applied to Studies of the Political System in the Post-Soviet Space,” Central Asia and the Caucasus, Vol. 12, Issue 2, 2011, pp. 17- 24; idem, “Central Eurasia through the Prism of Security: A Regional System or a Sub-System?” The Caucasus & Glo- balization, Vol. 5, Issue 1-2, 2011, pp. 6-15. 15 Here I refer to the concept of Central Europe suggested by Dr. Eldar Ismailov as part of a novel approach to the region and its place in the spatial-political units of Eurasia. According to his concept, Central Europe consists of the political spaces of three post-Soviet states (Belarus, Moldova, and Ukraine); together with the Central Caucasus (Azerbaijan, 12 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Thus, the political system of the Central Caucasus is part of the PSM; the importance of this thesis will be fully revealed in my discussion of the structural factors of conflicts in the region. Here I will limit myself to saying that the formation of the Central Caucasian RSC revealed certain specifics that inevitably affect the dynamics of regional security relations. Throughout the whole of its long history, the Central Caucasus has remained an object of geopolitics, which means that the exogenous vectors of power played an important role in shaping the security sphere of the region. Russia, Turkey, and Iran form the traditional external power triangle with the corresponding ideological factors: Orthodox Christianity, Sunni Islam, and Shi‘a Islam, a fact which played an important role in creating the amity/enmity vectors in the region’s societies. In the 20th century, the great powers of Western civilization developed a much greater interest in the Caucasus and displayed correspondingly greater involvement there, which, in turn, made the region relatively more open than before. This was an important precondition for setting up a regional security system there—forming national states, material components of interdependence of their security, and stable perceptional amity/enmity constructs among the local states and between them and the external poles of power. Disintegration of the Soviet Union in the early 1990s created an anarchically organized political system in the post-Soviet space. When applied to the Central Caucasus it was restoration of the earlier RSC that had existed back in 1918-1921.16

Conflicts in RSC Development in the Post-Soviet Central Caucasus

Very much as at the dawn of its development (1918-1921), in the post-Soviet era the RSC in the Central Caucasus displayed mainly negative dynamics in the security relations among the states involved. Not infrequently, territorial disputes and disagreements over the status of ethnic minorities, the power struggle between political groups inside the states, and their relations with the external power poles exceeded the limits of non-violent relations to erupt as armed clashes. The Armenian- Azeri conflict over Nagorno-Karabakh and the conflicts in Georgia (Abkhazia and South Ossetia) stand apart because of their regional repercussions. Though sharp conflicts were inherent in all the post-Soviet Caucasus (one can recall the conflict between the Ossets and Ingushes in North Ossetia and the armed conflict in Chechnia), here I will limit myself, very much in line with the approach specified above, to the Central Caucasian conflicts. They share the following features: n First, they have both obvious political and non-political components: the political status of the ethnic minorities who live in compact groups and the political relations among the regional states and their relations with the external actors are combined with the specifics of history (and practice) of social relations. But for all that political components dominate over

Armenia, and Georgia) and Central Asia (Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan), Central Europe belongs to Central Eurasia (for more detail, see: E.M. Ismailov, “Central Eurasia: Its Geopolitical Function in the 21st Century,” Central Asia and the Caucasus, No. 2 (50), 2008, pp. 7-29). 16 National states appeared in the Central Caucasus in the second decade of the 20th century after the Bolshevik revolution and disintegration of the Russian Empire. They were the Azerbaijan Democratic Republic (1918-1920), the Georgian Democratic Republic (1918-1921), and the Armenian (Ararat) Republic (1918-1920), the relations among which were characterized by a high degree of security interdependence. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 13 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

other components; this should be borne in mind when describing these conflicts as “ethnopolitical.” n Second, none of these conflicts can be described as a domestic conflict: stimulated by internal processes in each of the three states, they can also be described as a product of external influences. While from the very beginning the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict was, and remains, mainly a conflict between two states (this was how the international community described it), the Abkhazian and South Ossetian conflicts were not free from external influences, which came into the open during the 2008 August war between Russia and Georgia. n Third, these conflicts developed into armed confrontation and active hostilities with the use of heavy armaments. The most active phase coincided with the early stages of the RSC’s post-Soviet development in the Central Caucasus (1991-1994), which ended in an armistice; the conflicts were and remain frozen. So far, international structures (the U.N., OSCE, and EC) have failed to settle them. n Fourth, the unsettled conflicts remain high on the list of state security priorities in the Central Caucasian RSC, therefore, they greatly affect the policy of the states involved. The security interests of Azerbaijan, Armenia, and Georgia are closely interconnected, which means that their region can be described as a RSC. The conflicts described above show the linchpins of their interdependence, which means that the dynamics of the security relations within RSC are mainly negative. Even cooperation is largely suggested by the conflicts: the relations (rapprochement/estrangement) between Armenia and Azerbaijan with Georgia to a considerable degree are formed by the changes in the relations between Georgia and its two Central Caucasian neighbors. The conflict-prone specifics clarify the question of the level of RSC development in the post- Soviet Central Caucasus. We will remind that, according to the TRSC, changes in the security complex structure either change it or transform its inner dynamics, while preserving the RSC structure intact. Regional political integration (several states merge into one political actor) can be described as the final point according to the first scenario.17 Anarchy as the main attribute of relations within the RSC develops into a hierarchy very close to that present inside the states. The TRSC says that structural changes may occur in the regional security system even if the general structure of the complex remains intact. They are based on the differences in the dynamics of security relations within given RSC. A transfer from one level of dynamics development to another is stimulated by changes in the amity/enmity relations. As distinct from the previous scenario, in this case the regional system remains anarchically organized, while the changes are limited to the perceptional-behavioral component of regional interdependence. The TRSC offers a general model of these changes and identifies the initial, final, and intermediary levels (chaos-a regional conflict formation-security regime-security community).18 An analysis of the empirical side of the post-Soviet development of the RSC in the Central Caucasus suggests that the dynamics of security relations at the first stage (1991-1994) of its development largely corresponded to the level of “regional conflict formation” in its original conception.19

17 See: B. Buzan, O. Wæver, J. de Wilde, op. cit., p. 12. 18 According to B. Buzan, in the conditions of chaos, the entire set of the security relations in the region is determined by enmity since each of the regional actors sees an enemy in the others. As distinct from the initial level, amity is possible even at the first intermediary level—regional conflict formations—dominated by conflict relations among the actors. At the next intermediary level—security regime—regional states cooperate in order to settle the conflicts and avoid a war; they rely on mutually acceptable forms of behavior to achieve security in their relations. At the final stage of the transfer within the functioning security complex and according to Buzan’s conception, a security community appears in which conflicts have been resolved to the extent that none of the members fears aggression from any of the other members of the community. 19 The conception of the “regional conflict formations” was first formulated by Raimo Väyrynen (see: R. Väyrynen, “Regional Conflict Formations: An Intractable Problem of International Relations,” Journal of Peace Research, Vol. 21, 14 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

At the same time, at the later stages of its evolution the Central Caucasian RSC demonstrated changes in the dynamics of the security relations of the states involved, insufficient, however, for a transfer to the “security regime,” but clear enough to expand our ideas about the regional conflict formations. The stage at which the Central Caucasian RSC has been and remains since about the mid-1990s can be described as a moderate regional conflict formation with the following specifics: n first, stabilization of the domestic political situation in the RSC states and their stronger role as the system’s key actors; n second, the conflict potential has been preserved and still prevails in the dynamics of regional security relations; it is much less intensive—this is confirmed by the absence of large-scale and persistent armed clashes. The problems which led to armed conflicts and their repercussions have not yet been fully resolved, therefore hostilities are not excluded. n Third, the relations between states are more stable and institutionalized, however, the unresolved conflicts and an acute security dilemma are stirring up elements of enmity within the RSC. From this it follows that proneness to conflict has been and remains one of the striking features of the functioning and development of the Central Caucasian RSC. As an indicator of security interdependence in the regional system, conflicts are products of certain factors connected, among other things, with the specifics of the local political structure. Since the latter is part of a larger PSM structure, a better understanding of the structural factors of conflicts in the Central Caucasus requires that the structural specifics of the entire PSM be taken into account.

Structural Instability and the Dynamics of Regional Conflicts

A region’s political structure may stimulate either moderation or conflicts in the relations of its states. From this point of view, the stability/instability of the political structure of the regional security system is very important for the problems discussed in the present article. (In)stability of a political structure is determined by three factors: inner weakness/strength of the states in a regional sys- tem20; (a)symmetry of strength and (a)symmetry of vulnerability among them; and (im)maturity of their mutual relations.21 The PSM is obviously asymmetrical in terms of the weakness/strength, threats, and vulnerabilities; it is created mainly by the states with weak sociopolitical cohesion and inadequate cooperative experience in regulating the security dilemmas present in their relations. The numerous conflicts still broiling in this space are the best evidence of the above. Even if we disengage ourselves from any common macro-system, we cannot miss the fact that the Central Caucasian RSC political structure is mainly unstable. The following table offers a glimpse

Issue 4, November 1984, pp. 337-359). He described a regional conflict formation as “a complex mixture of international, intraregional, and extra-regional conflicts of violent character” (ibid., p. 344). 20 Within the original RSC concept, the level of sociopolitical cohesion is the strength/weakness parameter. It is obvious that in view of the current RSC development level in the Central Caucasus, this parameter cannot be regarded as the only one. Here I use the “modern state” type; when talking about its strength/weakness, we should also contemplate some other, classical, parameters, such as economic and military capabilities (the table below supplies economic and military parameters that are indispensable for assessing states’ relative strength/weakness: GDP, per capita GDP, GDP growth rates, military budget, the size of military forces and the main type of military hardware). 21 For more detail, see: J. Eyvazov, “Structural Factors in the Development of the Regional Security Systems (A Post- Soviet Central Eurasia Case Study),” Central Asia and the Caucasus, Vol. 13, Issue 1, 2012, pp.79-102. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 15 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION Table to Sociopolitical Cohesion The Most Serious Challenges

open and latent conflicts in relations with neighbors— Azerbaijan (Nagorno-Karabakh), Turkey (Eastern Anatolia), Georgia (Javakhetia)—and the resultant isolation from the main economically profitable regional energy and transportation projects (BTC, BTE, KATB); dependence on external actors (Russia, the diaspora). occupation of southwestern regions and related sociopolitical and economic problems; potential threat of separatism in the areas where ethnic minorities live in compact communities, tension with some submarines)

— Conflict with Armenia,

Navy (warships/ Navy

(aircraft/helicopters)

Air Force Air

Guns

Vehicles

Vehicles/Armed

Infantry Fighting Infantry Main Type of Military Hardware Tanks Battle Main

339 111/357 425 41/35 18/

Armed Forces Armed

Numerical Strength of Strength Numerical Population

the States of Central Caucasian RSC (2010)

) $m ( Budget Military

Certain Economic, Military, and Sociopolitical Descriptions of

) $ ( GDP Capita Per

) % ( Rates Growth GDP

) $b ( GDP State . 1 Armenia 9.23 1.2 2,987 434.0 3,090,379 48,570 110 104/136 239 16/33 — Territorial claims which cause 2 Azerbaijan 52.2 2.3 5,846 1,590.0 8,933,928 66,940 No 16 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION to Sociopolitical Cohesion The Most Table (continued) flict in Abkhazia and Serious Challenges

of the neighboring powers caused by their regional and ethnic policy (Iran, Russia). South Ossetia, which Tbilisi no longer controls; forced migrants; separatist threats in other places where ethnic minorities live in compact communities; continued tension with Russia and its military, political, and economic repercussions (the August 2008 war; recognition of the independence of Abkhazia and South Ossetia by Russia; the increase and legalization of Russian military presence in these regions and the loss of the Russian market for Georgian products).

submarines)

Navy (warships/ Navy

(aircraft/helicopters)

Air Force Air

Guns

Vehicles

Vehicles/Armed

Infantry Fighting Infantry Main Type of Military Hardware Tanks Battle Main

Armed Forces Armed

Numerical Strength of Strength Numerical

Population

) $m ( Budget Military

, The International Institute for Strategic Studies, London, 2011.

) $ ( GDP Capita Per

) % ( Rates Growth GDP

4.5 2,690 420.0 4,219,191 20,655 93 63/137 185 12/29 17/ — Con

) $b ( GDP The Military Balance 2011 : State . S o u r c e 3 Georgia 11.3 No Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 17 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION of some of the qualitative and quantitative descriptions of the states on which the regional specifics of the Central Caucasus depend. The figures quoted above vividly illustrate the current specifics of the political structure of the Central Caucasian RSC. In order to gain an authentic idea of its structure’s development, we need to return to the period of its restoration, that is, the early 1990s. On the whole, the entire PSM was engulfed by a wave of armed conflicts among the states or inside them with a greater or lesser degree of external intervention. This can be described as a point of reckoning, the beginning of the development of this political structure, and an important stability/ instability indicator. In the early 1990s, the vehemence of the conflicts and their dynamics differed from one post-Soviet region to another. Ethnopolitical conflicts unfolded dynamically in the Central Caucasus, which allows us to detect their more precise ties with the inner weaknesses of the regional states with the recently restored independencies and, as a result, with the instability of the political structure of the RSC functioning there. The early period of post-Soviet independence of the Central Caucasian states (1991-1994) can be described as a period of their greatest inner weakness. This was when regional security relations reached their peak of negativity. Inner weakness and political instability were largely the product of specific objective features of the sociopolitical, economic, ideological, and axiological context created by the Soviet Union’s unexpectedly rapid disintegration. At the beginning of the long road of post- Soviet development the states had to deal with the social and economic difficulties created by the need to transfer to a market economy; considerable shortcomings in distribution of economic resources inside society; the quest for national identity; the exacerbation of ethnopolitical conflicts; inadequate legitimacy and de facto impotent central governments; and the lack of necessary political skills of the new generation of political leaders. It was at this stage that the Armenian-Azeri war reached its peak, as well as the civil war and armed ethnopolitical conflicts in Georgia (South Ossetia and Abkhazia). In both cases, there were endogenous political factors together with an exogenous factor, Rus- sia’s indirect presence.22 Irrespective of the answer to the question of whether the conflicts in the post-Soviet Central Caucasus were caused by endogenous factors or developed under the impact of external forces, one thing is clear: weakness and the low level of sociopolitical cohesion of the regional states made the external geopolitical impact effective. This is true of the entire post-Soviet space and is amply confirmed by the comparison between the Central Caucasus and the Baltic states, another post-Soviet area. The three Baltic states are fairly heterogeneous in the ethnic and confessional respect; their numerous communities are tied ethnically and linguistically to Russia.23 All the newly independent states felt the impact of the economic and sociocultural disintegration of the Union state; Russia’s geopolitical interest in retaining its domination in the Baltic region was as strong as, for instance, in the Central Caucasus. This means that if we regard the exogenous political factors as the most important, along with the ethnic and confessional structure of the post-Soviet space, the Baltic states were no less prone to conflicts than Central Caucasian. Things proved different in reality. The three Baltic states sailed through the transition period without conflicts; in 2004, they acceded the EU and joined NATO; in the Central Caucasus, meanwhile, external factors are still actively manipulating the conflict potential of the regional states.

22 Russia is part of the PSM along with the Central Caucasian RSC. Hence, the term “exogenous” as applied to Russia’s impact on this RSC should take into account their interconnection in the common PSM structure. 23 In 2009, ethnic Russians in Estonia comprised about 26% of the total population; in 1989, on the eve of the So- viet Union’s disintegration, Russians made up 30% of the population. The figures for Latvia are about 30% in 2009 and 34% in 1989; and about 6% in 2009 and 9.4% in 1989 in Lithuania. 18 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

The Table shows that the three states of the Central Caucasian RSC have a low level of sociopolitical cohesion and that there is a clear asymmetry of strength/weakness among them. The three states of the Central Caucasian RSC are fairly vulnerable in terms of their sociopolitical cohesion. From time to time their vulnerability is obviously associated with what their neighbors do. In the early 1990s, armed conflicts deprived two of the states (Azerbaijan and Georgia) of control over parts of their territory populated by ethnic minorities. The inner tension in Georgia is fed by the continued tension with Russia. In August 2008, it developed into a war. Georgia’s relatively weak economic potential allows us to describe the challenges to its sociopolitical cohesion as much more obvious than in the case of Azerbaijan and Ar- menia. In the Armenia-Azerbaijan duad the former is less vulnerable because of its ethnic and religious homogeneity, among other things. At the same time, these countries’ negative interdependence due to their involvement in the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, Armenia’s weak economy, as well as its dependence on external actors, equalizes risks to the sociopolitical stability in both states. As a result of the conflict over Nagorno-Karabakh, Azerbaijan lost about one fifth of its territory (the part very important in the cultural-civilizational respect). During the war of 1991-1993, each of Armenia’s military successes plunged Azerbaijan into a grave political crisis and regime change. Today, the Nagorno-Karabakh issue remains the most important factor of the split/unity of Azerbai- jani society. Armenia, which won the war and established its control over this part of Azerbaijan populated by Armenians, has to spend more on the arms race; the logic of the security dilemma has made it dependent on external actors (Russia) for its security; it was excluded from the economically advantageous regional transportation and energy projects and must be prepared to confront its economically stronger opponent. This can hardly be described as a positive factor when assessing the sociopolitical situation in Armenia. The political crisis during the last presidential election of Feb- ruary 2008 demonstrated that society was split and there was no agreement on the issues described above.24 The Nagorno-Karabakh issue, which ties the two states together, determines the dynamics of their military and political rivalry in the region. This also explains the asymmetry of strength between them. Both Armenia and Azerbaijan regard this territory as a vitally important component of their national security. Azerbaijan treats it as part of its territory according to international law; its loss might weaken its position in the regional balance of power. Given the military-strategic specifics of Azerbaijan’s central and western parts and Armenia’s military-technical capabilities, Armenia’s continued military control of Nagorno-Karabakh (even if Azerbaijan restored its sovereignty over the valley regions of Karabakh) will threaten a large part of Azerbaijan’s territory (crisscrossed by the Baku-Supsa and Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan oil pipelines and Baku-Tbilisi-Erzurum gas pipeline—the main sources of the republic’s income). To a certain extent, the weakening of Azerbaijan in this context is related to the negative political repercussions inside it. As most other multinational states, Azerbaijan cannot relinquish part of its territory in order to avoid a possible domino effect; other compact ethnic communities might try to detach themselves from Azerbaijan. In 1993, the country found itself on the brink of similar developments when there were attempts to set up a “Talysh-Mugan Republic” in the southeast of Azerbaijan.

24 During the presidential election in Armenia, the bulk of the protesting electorate supported Levon Ter-Petros- sian, who wanted integration with the West, less dependence on Russia, and better relations with neighbors. According to the official figures, he gained 21.5% of the votes against 52.8% gained by Serzh Sargsyan, who represented the ruling party. The opposition accused the country’s leaders of falsifications and started mass protest actions; about 10 people died in the armed clashes; a state of emergency was introduced. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 19 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Armenia, in turn, is seeking control of Nagorno-Karabakh because of its mainly Armenian population, which fears continued Azeri sovereignty over this territory.25 There is another, structural- political explanation of Armenia’s continued occupation of the southwest of Azerbaijan. According to the aggregate indices of its national power (territory, population, and resources), Armenia is much weaker than Azerbaijan. To compensate for the imbalance and in view of the far from simple previous relations, Armenia needed military-strategic advantages in the form of control over the strategically important Nagorno-Karabakh with its predominantly Armenian population. Today, the Armenia-Azerbaijan duad presents the greatest source of instability in the Central Caucasian RSC and is responsible for the regional arms race. The military and economic inequality of the two countries is behind the asymmetry of strength. According to official declarations, the armed forces of Azerbaijan outstrip Armenia (see the Table). However, to assess the real correlation of forces, we should take into account the capabilities of Armenia’s armed forces in Nagorno-Karabakh and around it.26 This presents a different picture: the numerical strength of both sides is more or less the same, while Armenia has many more tanks, infantry fighting and armored vehicles, and guns. For geographical reasons, these components of the armed forces are critically important for establishing a real military balance between the two states. Azerbaijan is much stronger economically; its military budget is three times larger than that of Armenia. The gap will increase in the course of time because of Azerbaijan’s much faster economic growth. However, in the future, the reliance of Azerbaijan’s economy on the revenues from the export and transportation of energy resources might develop into a problem.27 The obvious signs of military and economic asymmetry bring to mind the Waltzian formula: the “vicious circle” of the security dilemma. The asymmetries are mutually stimulating: Azerbaijan’s better economic situation urges Armenia to build up its military capabilities, while Azerbaijan is steadily expanding its economic capabilities to respond to Armenia’s efforts in the military sphere. The future for both states looks sad: large-scale and ineffective economic investments in the military sphere in Azerbaijan vs. still greater military-technical and economic dependence on external actors for Armenia. Georgia, which has its share of economic problems, also tends to spend more on defense. This is suggested not so much by its relations with its Central Caucasian neighbors as by its relations with Russia or, rather, with the separatist regimes in South Ossetia and Abkhazia supported by the Russian Federation. At the same time, Georgia, as member of other duads, may become involved in other structural asymmetries. Tension in the Georgia-Armenia duad might increase in view of the still burning contradictions over Javakhetia populated by Armenians and the development of mutually advantageous economic cooperation with Azerbaijan. The conditions in which the Central Caucasian political system developed were hardly conducive to a more or less rapid enhancement of the maturity of interstate relations.28 The space in ques-

25 See, for example: H. Tchlingirian, “Nagorno-Karabagh: Transition and the Elite,” Central Asian Survey, No. 18 (4), 1999, p. 445. 26 There are informal military units on the occupied Azeri lands presented as “self-defense forces of Nagorno-Kara- bakh”: there are about 18,000 people, 316 tanks, 324 infantry fighting and armored vehicles, and 322 guns. They should be regarded as part of Armenian’s real military capabilities. 27 According to the official statistics, in 2009 the share of Azerbaijan’s oil and gas industry was 44.8% (see: Az- erbaijan in Figures 2010, State Statistical Committee of the Republic of Azerbaijan, available at [http://www.azstat.org/ publications/azfigures/2010/en/010.shtml]). 28 The maturity of interstate relations remains a very specific parameter of structural (in)stability. (Im)maturity of relations is not a direct product of states’ weakness or strength; it is determined by a socially and practically confirmed bias toward exploiting (manipulating) the weaknesses (vulnerabilities) of the opponents for the sake of its own political interests. Maturity is, therefore, a quality of the state duads (systems), in which the level of confidence is sufficient for cooperation among states, at least in the solution of common security issues. The highest degree of maturity is reached when a state is prepared to sacrifice its sovereignty for the sake of a common political entity, that is, for political integration. Two main factors come into play here: the social affinity/diversity between states and the practice of their relations. The 20 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION tion is a conglomerate of ethnicities and religions. Samuel Huntington wrote that the line of clash of civilizations runs across these and similar areas. The practice of relations among the Central Caucasian states has not contributed to their maturity. The history of independent development of the region’s political units is very short: for long periods the ethnicities living there were parts of external imperial systems. Their Heartland location (to borrow the term from Halford Mackinder) made them the coveted targets of external actors (Rus- sia, Turkey, Iran, and the West). In fact, the mechanisms the external actors used to achieve their aims—resettlement, pushing ethnic borders at will, and manipulations with ethnicities in the “divide and rule” style—never contributed to good neighborly relations in these regions. The problems inherited from the imperial past still cast a pall over the relations among the newly independent states. Besides, in the post-Soviet era, the Central Caucasus remained geopolitically attractive to the great powers.

Conclusion

Early in the 1990s, restoration of the anarchical political structure in the Central Caucasus was accompanied by acute conflicts. The conflicts in Nagorno-Karabakh, Abkhazia, and South Ossetia developed into armed confrontations which proved extremely destructive for the entire region. They emerged and remain smoldering for many reasons, which means that complete understanding of the problem calls for taking the fullest possible account of all the causes and factors. At the same time, this should not be taken to mean that we must ignore the range of the key factors of regional instability. If we treat the region as a regional security system and, in particular, try to apply the RSC concept in its initial interpretation we should admit that the structural-political factors were the main determinants of the context of armed conflicts. Further development of the TRSC and the securitization conception in particular suggests that we also look for other factors, and that the factors which underlay the region’s conflict dynamics are conventional and autonomous. The three conflicts in the Central Caucasus are primarily a product of the political relations among the region’s states, as well as between them and the extra-regional powers. This obvious cir- cumstance does not allow us to limit an assessment of them to the framework of local ethnic, confessional, and other social relations, even though social factors are also present. They are of secondary importance and either increase or decrease (but not in all cases) the impact of the political factors. Otherwise it would have been hard, if possible at all, to explain why the social similarities/distinctions between states are unrelated to the amity/enmity between them. Indeed there are the Azerbaijan- Georgia, Georgia-Turkey, and Armenia-Iran duads, on the one hand, and the Georgia-Russia and Azerbaijan-Iran, on the other. In the first three duads ethnoconfessional distinctions do not interfere with political closeness, while in the latter two cases social closeness did not prevent mutual mistrust, enmity, or even a war (the August 2008 war between Russia and Georgia). An assessment of the political factors of the Central Caucasus’ proneness to conflict inevitably raises the question of the region’s political structure. This brings to the fore two key parameters: the stability/instability of the region’s political structure and its involvement in a wider security macro- system. The (in)stability of the political structure of the regional security system alone cannot account for the region’s proneness to conflict; at the same time, it is responsible for the conditions conducive former is ensured by ethnic, linguistic, and confessional specifics and shared or not shared political values (institutions and ideologies). The latter is created by the states’ history: what prevails in the history of their relations—amity or enmity. In other words, confidential relations among states, the predictability of their conduct and, therefore, their cooperative relations depend on their social affinity, friendly relations, and the absence of conflicts in the past. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 21 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION to amity/enmity of the political relations in the region. In this way, it affects the regional actors’ determination to use force to settle their disagreements. The (in)stability is determined by three factors: inner weakness/strength of the states in a regional system; (a)symmetry of strength and (a)symmetry of vulnerability among them; and (im)maturity of their mutual relations. The (in)stability of a political structure can be described as an independent endogenous variable of a RSC, if only the latter does not belong to a large system (in this case, it follows the development pattern of the larger system). The political structure of the Central Caucasian RSC is unstable; the sociopolitical cohesion of states can hardly be described as high. Their independent development, especially in the early and mid-1990s, was aggravated by serious internal problems and an acute feeling of vulnerability. At the same time, different countries have different ideas about their vulnerabilities and threats; the levels of their weakness are likewise different, which points to the system’s structural asymmetry. Moreover, the relations among the states in the region have not become mature and cooperative enough to play down the negative impact of their weakness, vulnerability, and structural asymmetry. The Central Caucasian RSC is part of the Post-Soviet Security Macrocomplex. Today, a complete understanding of the security relations within the Central Caucasian RSC is possible only within the web of interdependences of the regional system of the post-Soviet space. This means that when talking about the structural factors of conflicts in the Central Caucasus we cannot ignore the structural specifics of the entire PSM. Russia is the only pole of power in the PSM; this means that the relations between the states within all the three sub-complexes are shaped largely depending on its security interests, regional policy, and relations with the extra-regional powers. The Russian Federation has succeeded to a much greater extent than the other powers also interested in the post-Soviet space in making regional conflicts its political instrument. The August 2008 war with Georgia and the postwar developments (recognition of South Ossetia and Abkhazia, legalization of its military presence in these Georgian provinces, etc.) speak volumes about Russia’s direct involvement in the regional conflicts. On the whole, the political structure of the Central Caucasus encourages continued conflicts; it looks as if the dynamics of the security relations typical of moderate regional conflict formation will prove to be a fairly consistent stage in the development of the Central Caucasian RSC. The relations in the Armenia-Azerbaijan duad contain the most acute security dilemma for the region. This means that Azerbaijan should spend more money on its military component while Arme- nia should seek external patrons; this spells its greater dependence on Russia. Large-scale and prolonged military action in the zone of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict are hardly possible in the near future for the simple reason that this will revise the relations between the Central Caucasian states with Russia, something which the only power pole of PSM hardly needs. This equally applies to the conflicts in Georgia, where the situation was clarified by the August 2008 war. This war and recognition of South Ossetia and Abkhazia by Russia and some other states did not transform them into independent political actors in the region. In fact, they became even more dependent on the Kremlin. NATO membership for Georgia, which will bring the alliance directly to Russia’s borders, is one of the most serious external threats to Russia’s security and the war with Georgia was a geopolitical instrument designed to avert this threat. While the threat remains on Rus- sia’s security agenda, it will continue using the conflicts as its instrument of regional policy. This means that in view of the structural specifics of the PSM, armed conflicts will be preserved in their frozen forms across the entire space of Russia’s “near abroad.” 22 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION Kamran SHAFIEV

Judge at the Constitutional Court of the Azerbaijan Republic (Baku, Azerbaijan).

THE FORCE OF LAW AND THE USE OF FORCE IN INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS

Abstract

his article analyzes the principle of the to self-defense, as well as the concept of T non-use of force and its place in the humanitarian intervention. It justifies the international relations system. It exam- need for avoiding double standards in con- ines the possibilities of exercising the right flict settlement.

Introduction

The 20th century was marked by two brutal world wars which resulted in major changes in the world balance of power among the largest military-political nations of that time. The Cold War that began (1946-1989) divided the world into two opposing sociopolitical camps; that is, it brought about the establishment of a new geopolitical bipolar world order. Correspondingly, after the end of World War II, significant changes also occurred in the international relations system, the main one being the establishment of the United Nations (U.N.). One of the main purposes of this organization was to maintain international peace and security and, to that end, take efficient collective measures for the prevention and removal of threats to peace and for the suppression of acts of aggression and other breaches of the peace. The main principles of international law are set forth in the U.N. Charter, the most important of which are refraining from the use of force, the inviolability of borders, and territorial integrity. The principles of international law regulate the most important aspects of international law. They are fundamental, generally recognized regulations with the highest legal force and are universal in character. The collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War have greatly changed the breakdown in forces in international relations. Disputes are more likely to be resolved using force. This situation has prompted some legal experts to claim that the law is losing its influence in international relations. Rigorous observance of the principles of international law is of particular significance in the Central Caucasian region, since for decades now, under the pretext of granting peoples the right to self-determination in the Nagorno-Karabakh region of Azerbaijan, and in Abkhazia and South Osse- tia (Georgia), plans to forcefully change the borders of these countries recognized by the international community are being implemented with the use of force. So it seems important to analyze the principle of the non-use of force and its place in the contemporary international relations system. In this context, resolving the contradiction between the right of Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 23 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION peoples to self-determination and the territorial integrity of states, which became aggravated at the end of the 20th-beginning of the 21st centuries, is also a very important issue today.

The Non-Use of Force

Establishment of the rule prohibiting the threat or use of force began way back in the past. The Covenant of the League of Nations limited the right of states to resort to war. Several documents of the League of Nations address the issue of a war of aggression; in particular, the draft of the Declara- tion concerning Wars of Aggression adopted by the League of Nations Assembly in 1927 defines it as an international crime. The Paris Agreement (Kellogg-Briand Pact) of 1928, providing for the renun- ciation of war as an instrument of national policy, was the first international agreement that renounced wars of aggression.1 The principle of the non-use of force or threat of force was first embodied in the UN Charter. Art 2 of the Charter says that “all Members shall refrain in their international relations from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state, or in any other manner inconsistent with the Purposes of the United Nations.”2 This principle was further specified in other international documents—the Declaration on Prin- ciples of International Law concerning Friendly Relations and Cooperation among States in accordance with the Charter of the United Nations of 1970, the Declaration on the Definition of Aggression of 1974, and the Declaration on the Enhancement of Effectiveness of the Principles of Refraining from the Threat or Use of Force in International Relations of 1987. The Declaration on Principles of International Law concerning Friendly Relations and Coop- eration among States in accordance with the Charter of the United Nations says that every State has the duty to refrain in its international relations from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any State, or in any other manner inconsistent with the purposes of the United Nations. Such a threat or use of force constitutes a violation of international law and the Charter of the United Nations and shall never be employed as a means of settling international issues. The Declaration on the Enhancement of Effectiveness of the Principles of Refraining from the Threat or Use of Force in International Relations states that the principle of refraining from the threat or use of force in international relations is universal in character and is binding, regardless of each State’s political, economic, social or cultural system or relations of alliance. In order to clarify the content of this principle, we must first clarify the meaning of force. It primarily means a war of aggression. According to the U.N. resolution of 14 December, 1974, aggression is the use of armed force by a State against the sovereignty, territorial inviolability or political independence of another State. The resolution contains a list of acts that can be qualified as an act of aggression. They include the invasion of or attack by the armed forces of a State on the territory of another State, or any military occupation, bombardment of territory, the blockade of ports, forming and sending of armed bands, and so on. Thus, the occupation of Azerbaijani territory by Armenia, the occupation of Palestine, and similar acts by Iraq with respect to Kuwait in 1990-1991 can be qualified as acts of aggression. Despite the fact that the Armenian side categorically refuses to recognize its occupation of Azerbaijani territory, noting that Armenia is not mentioned in the corresponding resolutions of the U.N. Security Council (the body authorized to define aggression), the following must be noted. The term “aggression” is in general seldom used in international legal documents—its analogy is the concept “occupa-

1 See: Kellogg-Briand Pact 1928, available at [http://www.yale.edu/lawweb/avalon/imt/kbpact.htm]. 2 [http://www.un.org/en/documents/charter/]. 24 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION tion,” which is also used in the U.N. Security Council resolutions on the Armenian-Azerbaijani Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. In international legal practice, the term “occupation” is applied exclusively to interstate conflicts, while the term “controlled territories” is applied to domestic conflicts (which Armenia insists on). Moreover, the resolutions of several regional international organizations note the occupation of Azerbaijani territory by a neighboring state (for example, Resolution 1416 of the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe of 2005). The principle of refraining from the use of force means prohibiting forceful acts against people fighting for liberation from colonial domination. From this viewpoint, the approach to national liberation movements is interesting. Such conflicts used to be considered intrastate. The situation changed when Additional Protocol I of 1977 to the Geneva conventions of 1949 was adopted. The Protocol applied the provisions of the conventions to armed conflicts in which peoples are fighting against colonial domination and alien occupation and against racist regimes in the exercise of their right to self-determination, as enshrined in the Charter of the United Nations and the Declaration on Princi- ples of International Law concerning Friendly Relations and Cooperation among States in accordance with the Charter of the United Nations. Wars against colonial domination were associated with the postwar era of decolonization and were waged by colonial peoples against state metropolises. The right of peoples to self-determination in the form of establishing independent states was applied to colonial territories. It was primarily di- rected against colonialism with the aim of liberating colonies from foreign domination. Decoloniza- tion itself, while ensuring the right to self-determination, did not violate the principle of territorial integrity. For example, the Declaration on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries and Peoples approved by Resolution 1514 (XV) of the U.N. General Assembly of 14 December, 1960 emphasizes that all peoples have the right to self-determination; by virtue of that right they freely determine their political status and freely pursue their economic, social and cultural development. Whereby it is stipulated in particular that any attempt aimed at the partial or total disruption of the national unity and the territorial integrity of a country is incompatible with the purposes and principles of the Charter of the United Nations. The Declaration on Principles of International Law of 1970 again enforces the following important restrictive provision: “Nothing in the foregoing paragraphs shall be construed as authorizing or encouraging any action which would dismember or impair, totally or in part, the territorial integrity or political unity of sovereign and independent States conducting themselves in compliance with the principle of equal rights and self-determination of peoples as described above and thus possessed of a government representing the whole people belonging to the territory without distinction as to race, creed or colour.”3 After the collapse of colonial empires, the question of self-determination of peoples with respect to the establishment of independent national states was largely resolved. This principle was called upon to put an end to colonial domination and could not serve as grounds for dividing up independent countries. Today the right of peoples to self-determination must be resolved in the context of ensuring the territorial integrity of states. The intention to use it with respect to national minorities is an infringement on the right of peoples to live as they see fit within the state boundaries that exist. This right prohibits occupying the territory of another state. The Declaration on the Enhance- ment of Effectiveness of the Principles of Refraining from the Threat or Use of Force in International Relations states that neither acquisition of territory resulting from the threat or use of force nor any occupation of territory resulting from the threat or use of force in contravention of international law will be recognized as legal acquisition or occupation. A similar thought is also expressed in the Dec- laration on Principles of International Law concerning Friendly Relations and Cooperation among

3 [http://www.unrol.org/files/3dda1f104.pdf]. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 25 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

States in accordance with the Charter of the United Nations: “The territory of a State shall not be the object of military occupation resulting from the use of force in contravention of the provisions of the Charter. The territory of a State shall not be the object of acquisition by another State resulting from the threat or use of force. No territorial acquisition resulting from the threat or use of force shall be recognized as legal.” So development of the principle of refraining from the use of force has logically led to recognizing the illegality of occupation, annexation, or other ways of alienating territory, as is the occupation by Armenia of Azerbaijani territory or the occupation of Palestinian land. The principle of territorial integrity of states that protects a State’s right to integrity and inviolability of its territory is a vital means of ensuring state sovereignty. Territory is the main prerequisite of a State’s existence, the sphere of activity of its sovereignty. International law prohibits the use of force against the territorial integrity of states in the form of invasion, annexation, occupation, and so on. However, international law does not entirely exclude the use of force. The U.N. Charter envisages two cases of legal use of armed force: for the purpose of self-defense (Art 51) and in compliance with a resolution of the U.N. Security Council in the event of a threat to peace, breach of peace, or act of aggression (Arts 39 and 42). Art 41 of the U.N. Charter contains a list of measures “not involving the use of armed force. These may include complete or partial interruption of economic relations and of rail, sea, air, postal, telegraphic, radio, and other means of communication, and the severance of diplomatic relations.” “Should the Security Council consider that measures provided for in Art 41 would be inadequate or have proved to be inadequate, it may take such action by air, sea, or land forces as may be necessary to maintain or restore international peace and security. Such action may include demonstra- tions, blockade, and other operations by air, sea, or land forces of Members of the United Nations” (Art 42). The only exception from the prohibition to use force is self-defense of a state in the event of an armed attack on it by another state. In accordance with Art 51 of the U.N. Charter, nothing in the present Charter shall impair the inherent right of individual or collective self-defense if an armed attack occurs against a Member of the United Nations, until the Security Council has taken measures necessary to maintain international peace and security. That is, measures taken by Members in the exercise of this right of self-defense are only legal if an armed attack occurs against a state. Art 51 of the U.N. Charter directly excludes the use of armed force by one state against another in the event the latter exercises economic or political measures. In such situation or even if the threat of an attack is obvious, the state may resort to countermeasures only if the principle of proportionality is observed.4 The Declaration on the Enhancement of Effectiveness of the Principles of Refraining from the Threat or Use of Force in International Relations of 1987 says that States have the inherent right of individual or collective self-defense if an armed attack occurs, as set forth in the Charter. Thus, international law envisages individual and collective self-defense. Individual self-defense is carried out by the state that falls victim to a criminal armed attack on its own. On the other hand, it may make a decision on collective self-defense and ask other states to do the same. Without such a request, other states do not have the right to exercise collective self-defense measures. The International Court states in its judgment on the Nicaragua v. the United States Case (27 June, 1986) that “there is no rule permitting the exercise of collective self-defence in the absence of a request by the State which is a victim of the alleged attack, this being additional to the requirement that the State in question should have declared itself to have been attacked.”5 An example of this self-defense is the measures carried out by states to assist Kuwait after Iraq attacked it in 1990. On 29 November, 1990, the U.N. Security Council adopted Resolution No. 678,

4 See: Mgzhdunarodnoe pravo, ed. by Iu.M. Kolosov, I.G. Kuznetsov, Mezhdunarodnye otnosheniia, Moscow, 1998, p. 37. 5 Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), available at [http://www.icj-cij.org/docket/index.php?sum=367&code=nus&p1=3&p2=3&case=70&k=66&p3=5]. 26 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION in accordance with which, if Iraq did not fulfill the Security Council resolution as of 15 January, 1991, the states cooperating with Kuwait would have the authority to use all means necessary to maintain and execute Security Council resolutions. It was precisely in accordance with this resolution that the hostilities against Iraq began. In order for the contemporary international security system to function efficiently, double standards must be avoided when executing U.N. Security Council decisions. For example, Security Council resolutions No. 678 of 29 November, 1990 On the Situation in Relations between Iraq and Kuwait and No. 1973 of 17 March, 2011 On the Situation in Libya were executed very quickly, while resolutions Nos. 822, 853, 874, and 884 of 1993 adopted in response to Armenia’s aggression against Azerbaijan have still not been executed. In these resolutions, the U.N. Security Council confirmed Azerbaijan’s territorial integrity and demanded the withdrawal of Armenian troops from the occupied Azerbaijani territories.

Self-Defense as Grounds for Using Force

In the practice of international relations of the 21st century, the concepts being examined tend to be broadly interpreted in the political interests of states. Furthermore, the representatives of interested states leave the question of the extent to which a specific situation corresponds to the legal use of force in the exercise of self-defense not only to the discretion of the Security Council, but also, in essence, to the discretion of the states themselves. This has led to formulation of the concept of preemptive use of force as a natural development of the concept of self-defense, which, admittedly, is contested by several countries and lawyers.6 As was noted earlier, the use of armed force in self-defense is legal only if an armed attack against a state occurs. The problem of contemporary international law lies in how to interpret the concept of an armed attack. Great Britain made use precisely of the right to self-defense against Ar- gentina during the Falkland crisis in 1982. So any country which finds its territory occupied as the result of aggression has the right to use force as self-defense and liberate its territory. At the same time, there is an opinion that the right to self-defense may be exercised not only if an armed attack has occurred. Today, the use of armed force is often justified by loosely interpreting the concept of armed attack. We are talking in this case about preemptive self-defense. Until recently, two viewpoints were singled out with respect to the right to self-defense. The advocates of the narrow approach think that self-defense may only be exercised if an armed attack has occurred. In their opinion, the U.N. Charter, having prohibited the use of force in international relations, permits states the unilateral use of armed force only for the purpose of self-defense after an armed attack has occurred. This position is also supported by the U.N. International Court, which stated in its judgment on the Nicaragua v. the Unit- ed States Case that “whether self-defense be individual or collective, it can only be exercised in response to an ‘armed attack’.”7 The broad interpretation of the right to self-defense permits the possibility of exercising this right in the event of an imminent threat of an armed attack on a state. It is believed that in order to prevent an attack in the future, which could have onerous consequences, a state has the right to resort to preemptive self-defense. Countering threats posed by terrorism, including by terrorist organiza-

6 See: M.V. Oparina, “Pravovoe regulirovanie primeneniia sily v mezhdunarodnykh otnosheniiakh,” Bulletin of the Russian State Humanitarian University, No. 4, p. 81. 7 Case concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 27 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION tions in the territory of foreign states, is one such justification for exercising preemptive self-defense. After the events of 11 September, 2001, the U.N. Security Council confirmed in its resolutions Nos. 1368 and 1373 that any act of international terrorism constitutes a threat to international peace and security and that states have the inherent right to individual or collective self-defense as recognized by the Charter of the United Nations. Thus, the U.N. Security Council equated an international terrorist act with an armed attack on a state in the sense enshrined in Art 51 of the U.N. Charter. In so doing, the Security Council broadly interpreted the concept “armed attack,” including in it large-scale terrorist acts committed by an international terrorist organization clearly supported by the state authorities of a particular country or acting under its patronage against another state. To sum up examination of this issue, it can be stated that international law permits the use of armed force for the purpose of self-defense against terrorist organizations. Furthermore, a terrorist threat must be real and the U.N. Security Council should be informed about the use of force. These measures should be carried out until the Security Council has taken measures necessary to maintain international peace and security. And most important, the adopted measures must be proportional to the threat, that is, there should be irrefutable proof of the imminence of a terrorist attack that could lead to onerous consequences for the population and the country’s territorial integrity. It should be noted that there is also an opposite opinion that proceeds from the fact that Resolution No. 1368 of the U.N. Security Council only mentions the inherent right to self-defense in the preamble and does not sanction the use of force. The supporters of this viewpoint think that the U.N. Charter does not envisage the use of force against non-state organizations at all. To support their position, they refer to the judgment of the International Court on the Case concerning Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (Democratic Republic of the Congo v. Uganda), which expresses the opinion that Uganda did not have the right to use force in self-defense because the acts it referred to were committed by anti- Ugandan armed groups and not by the armed forces of the Congo.8 Moreover, the Ugandan side did not appeal to the U.N. Security Council and did not present corresponding facts that could justify recourse to the use of force in the territory of the Congo. A proportional counterstrike must also be dealt, whereby it should not be detrimental to the peaceful population or state property. Things are more complicated when it comes to targeted killing in the international war against terrorism. In this case, strikes on terrorist camps must be distinguished from the targeted killing of a specific terrorist. In the latter case, the goal should be to arrest the terrorist and hand him over to the law. That is, catch the terrorist and bring him to justice. Otherwise, we will be dealing with a situation that is likened in the literature to the Wild West, when countries remove undesirable elements at their own discretion. The U.N. Charter instituted a specific system for maintaining international peace and security— a collective security system. Collective coercive measures not relating to or relating to the use of armed forces against a state for the purpose of maintaining and restoring international peace and security may only be used in compliance with a Security Council decision in the event of actions by this state that threaten peace, are a breach of peace, or an act of aggression. Individual self-defense is possible and permissible, but within a strictly limited framework and boundaries, until the collective security system recognized by the U.N. Charter comes into force; that is, until the Security Council has taken the measures necessary to maintain international peace and security. Measures taken by members in exercise of this right to self-defense shall be immediately reported to the Security Council and shall not in any way affect the authority and responsibility of the Security Council under the present Charter to take at any time such action as it deems necessary in order to maintain or restore international peace and security.

8 See: Case Concerning Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (Democratic Republic of the Congo v. Uganda), ICJ, 19 December, 2005, available at [http://www.icj-cij.org/docket/files/116/10455.pdf]. 28 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION Humanitarian Intervention

The problem of humanitarian intervention is closely related to the principle of the non-use of force. Some international lawyers who are supported by politicians think that force may be used against a country for the purpose of protecting human rights both without a U.N. sanction and without permission from the legal government of the state in question. Nowadays, some states justify the use of their armed forces in the territory of another state for the purpose of protecting human rights in the context of so-called humanitarian intervention. In so doing, it should be noted that present-day international acts, including general (universal) and regional conventions or bilateral interstate agreements, do not use the term “humanitarian intervention.” And on the whole, there is no one standard or legal definition of humanitarian intervention today. The cornerstone of the concept “humanitarian intervention” is the thesis that the observation of human rights cannot be considered a purely internal affair of a particular state and that the international community has the right to interfere in humanitarian crises. Some states directly permit the possibility of interference in internal conflicts under the pretext of humanitarian disasters without sanctions from the U.N. Security Council. The position of another group of countries places the emphasis on the inviolability of the principles enshrined in the U.N. Charter—in particular, on the exclusive prerogative of the U.N. Security Council to sanction measures of enforcement, including military force. Be that as it may, this problem is also directly related to other important principles of international law, such as human rights, sovereignty, territorial integrity, and non-interference in the internal affairs of states. The proponents of humanitarian intervention refer to the protection of human rights, while its adversaries point to the protection of sovereignty, territorial integrity, and non-interference in the internal affairs of states. The U.N. Charter enforces all the above-mentioned principles of international law. Art 2 of the U.N. Charter states that nothing contained in the present Charter shall au- thorize the United Nations to intervene in matters which are essentially within the domestic jurisdiction of any state. However, protection of human rights is named as one of the purposes of the Organ- ization’s Charter. According to Arts 55 and 56 of the Charter, on the other hand, all Members pledge themselves to take joint and separate action for the achievement of the purposes of the United Na- tions, including universal respect for, and observance of, human rights and fundamental freedoms. The principle of non-interference in the internal affairs of states proceeds from sovereignty, the basic element of which is the state’s independence when exercising its internal function. The principle is called upon to protect the state’s internal function, which is one of the aspects of the state’s full and sovereign authority exercised by it in its own territory within the limits of its borders. In compliance with this principle, the state has the right to independently establish its political and economic systems, dispose of its natural resources, impose taxes and duties, customs regulations, that is, independently, without interference from the outside or under any pressure resolve the problems of the domestic life of its citizens in its own territory. One of the important documents enforcing the concept of sovereignty is the Declaration on Principles of International Law concerning Friendly Relations and Cooperation among States of 24 October, 1970. The Declaration states that no State or group of States has the right to intervene, directly or indirectly, for any reason whatever, in the internal or external affairs of any other State. No State may use or encourage the use of economic, political or any other type of measures to coerce another State in order to obtain from it the subordination of the exercise of its sovereign rights and to secure from it advantages of any kind. Every State has an inalienable right to choose its political, economic, social and cultural systems, without interference in any form by another State. The Declaration on the Inadmissibility of Intervention and Interference in the Internal Affairs of States of 9 December, 1981 states that no State or group of States has the right to intervene or interfere in any form or for any reason whatsoever in the internal and external affairs of other States, and that it is the sovereign and inalienable right of a State freely to determine its own political, economic, Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 29 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION cultural and social system, to develop its international relations and to exercise permanent sovereignty over its natural resources, in accordance with the will of its people, without outside intervention, interference, subversion, coercion or threat in any form whatsoever. The judgment of the U.N. International Court in the Nicaragua v. the United States Case says, “…a prohibited intervention must be one bearing on matters in which each State is permitted, by the principle of State sovereignty, to decide freely (for example the choice of a political, economic, social and cultural system, and formulation of foreign policy). Intervention is wrongful when it uses, in regard to such choices, methods of coercion, particularly force, either in the direct form of military action or in the indirect form of support for subversive activities in another State.”9 At the same time, the main documents within the framework of the protection of human rights and international humanitarian law were adopted after World War II. These are the Universal Decla- ration of Human Rights, the International Convention on Civil and Political Rights, the International Convention on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights, the Convention on the Prevention and Punish- ment of the Crime of Genocide, the Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrad- ing Treatment or Punishment, the Convention on Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination, the Convention on Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women, the Convention on the Rights of the Child, and several others. Four Geneva conventions of 1949 and two additional protocols to them of 1977 form the basis of international humanitarian law. Whereas just recently it was thought, in accordance with the principle of state sovereignty, that the entire sphere of a state’s interrelations with its own people was essentially an internal matter regulated at the national level, today state sovereignty in the world is no longer absolute. It is limited both from the outside, owing to the actual interdependence of countries and peoples, which is legally expressed in the subordination of states to international law and the appearance of international organizations with supranational powers, and from the inside, since the sovereignty of a state even in its own territory is restricted to inherent personal rights and freedoms and the state’s responsibility to its citizens. In cases of genocide and the mass destruction of people, a state must not remain aloof, justifying its position by state sovereignty. Nor may a state, referring to its sovereignty, punish its citizens on the basis of political, race, or religious differences. Former U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan described humanitarian intervention in detail in his reports as follows: “Some critics were concerned that the concept of ‘humanitarian intervention’ could become a cover for gratuitous interference in the internal affairs of sovereign states. Others felt that it might encourage secessionist movements deliberately to provoke governments into committing gross violations of human rights in order to trigger external interventions that would aid their cause. Still others noted that there is little consistency in the practice of intervention, owing to its inherent difficulties and costs as well as perceived national interests — except that weak states are far more likely to be subjected to it than strong ones. “I recognize both the force and the importance of these arguments. I also accept that the principles of sovereignty and non-interference offer vital protection to small and weak states. But to the critics I would pose this question: if humanitarian intervention is, indeed, an unacceptable assault on sovereignty, how should we respond to a Rwanda, to a Srebrenica — to gross and systematic violations of human rights that offend every precept of our common humanity? We confront a real dilemma. Few would disagree that both the defense of humanity and the defense of sovereignty are principles that must be supported. Alas, that does not tell us which principle should prevail when they are in conflict. “Humanitarian intervention is a sensitive issue, fraught with political difficulty and not suscep- tible to easy answers. But surely no legal principle — not even sovereignty — can ever shield crimes against humanity. Where such crimes occur and peaceful attempts to halt them have been exhausted, the Security Council has a moral duty to act on behalf of the international community. The fact that we

9 [http://www.icj-cij.org/docket/index.php?sum=367&code=nus&p1=3&p2=3&case=70&k=66&p3=5]. 30 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION cannot protect people everywhere is no reason for doing nothing when we can. Armed intervention must always remain the option of last resort, but in the face of mass murder it is an option that cannot be relinquished.”10 Although speaking in favor of humanitarian intervention, Kofi Annan made several important reservations. n First, in his speech after the beginning of the operation in Kosovo, Kofi Annan emphasized that the Security Council as a structure directly and immediately responsible for maintaining international peace and security must be involved in any decisions on the use of force. n Second, as already mentioned above, he excluded the possible use of the concept of humanitarian intervention for unsubstantiated interference in the internal affairs of sovereign states, particularly of small states. n Third, humanitarian intervention “might encourage secessionist movements deliberately to provoke governments into committing gross violations of human rights in order to trigger external interventions that would aid their cause.” For example, ethnic cleansing carried out by secessionist groups in controlled zones could provoke countermeasures by the central government under pressure from the population, particular refugees. It stands to reason that there is no point in talking about observing the regulations of international humanitarian law in such a conflict. In such cases, the principle of “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth” will be followed, and one round of violence will provoke another. Of course, standing aloof and watching a regime destroy its citizens is not only irresponsible, but also goes against the conscience and right of people to protect their lives. In such cases, the international community must protect the people from a regime of tyranny that intends to slaughter its own people. The U.N. has repeatedly examined situations with human rights in different countries and issued corresponding resolutions. Forceful measures were adopted in Haiti, Somalia, East Timor, and so on. In 1990, a regional organization—the Economic Community of West African States—interfered in the situation in Liberia with the aim of putting an end to the civil war. This armed act was later approved by the Security Council in Resolution 788. Turkey’s action in Cyprus in 1974, Tanzania’s in Uganda in 1979, and Vietnam’s in Cambodia in 1979 serve as examples of humanitarian intervention aimed at putting an end to citizen slaughter. It was Vietnam’s humanitarian intervention which abolished Pol Pot’s criminal regime that destroyed around three million Cambodians. Practice shows that human rights issues no longer relate to a state’s domestic jurisdiction. At the same time, an analysis of this problem reveals double standards in exercising “humanitarian intervention.” Force is not always used on time and not necessarily in those instances when mass murder is committed. This intervention is used selectively. The world community essentially did not undertake decisive measures to stop the genocide in Rwanda. Humanitarian intervention is often carried out for the sake of resolving military-political tasks that meet a country’s national interests, including to gain access to energy resources. Not infrequently, such tasks are related to a change in regime in the “country being humanized.” Despite its positive purposes, this action has paved the way to a loose interpretation of such fundamental provisions as sovereignty and the non-use of force in international relations, making the gloomiest presuppositions about the fate of Third World countries in the face of the world powers. It created a dangerous precedent which could have negative consequences in the future and become justification for unsubstantiated intervention in the internal affairs of states.11

10 Report of the U.N. Secretary-General We the Peoples: The Role of the United Nations in the Twenty-First Centu- ry, U.N. Document A/54/2000, Paragraphs 216-219. 11 See: W.E. Ratliff, “Madeleine’s War” and the Costs of Intervention. The Kosovo Precedent. Harvard Internation- al Review. Winter 2001, pp. 70—75. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 31 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

The use of force might be justified for the purpose of protecting the peaceful population. But there can no legal grounds for military intervention when groups of militants who do not have anything to do with the political opposition fight against central authorities recognized by the world community. When the insurgents are not peaceful, but well-armed people who intentionally violate public order, it is the country’s internal affair to set its government troops against them. In this case, there can be no talk about any liberating mission in the name of peace and protection of the population. The U.N. International Court indicated in its judgment that “with regard to the practice of States, the Court notes that there have been in recent years a number of instances of foreign inverven- tion in one State for the benefit of forces opposed to the government of that State. It concludes that the practice of States does not justify the view that any general right of intervention in support of an opposition within another State exists in contemporary international law…”12 The right to self-defense cannot serve as a way to change the regime using armed forces. Force may not be applied to a sovereign state with a government recognized by the world community without the presence of an internal ethnic conflict and which is not in a state of war with its neighbors. This would clearly contradict Art 2 of the U.N. Charter, which clearly guarantees territorial inviolability, political independence, and non-interference in the internal competence of any state. Civil wars on the whole remain outside the regulating zone of international law (apart from areas relating to international humanitarian law, in particular methods of waging an armed struggle and protection of the civilian population). Nor does the U.N. Charter contain provisions relating to internal conflicts. English international lawyer Michael Akehurst says that international law contains no provisions against civil wars. “Art 2(4) of the U.N. Charter prohibits the threat or use of force in international relations only. It is possible that each side will regard the other side as traitors from the point of view of municipal law, but neither insurgents nor the established authorities are guilty of any breach of international law.”13

C o n c l u s i o n

The globalization processes in today’s world have raised the significance of international law. The foundation of present-day international law was laid by the U.N. Charter, one of the most important provisions of which is the principle of the non-use of force. In so doing, a universal collective security system was created that is based on the principles enshrined in the U.N. Charter. The collective security system consists of the joint efforts of states to prevent wars and armed conflicts. The principle of the non-use of force is the foundation of this system. Only the Security Council has the right to use force in the collective security system and only in the instances recognized by the U.N. Charter. The only exception is in the event of self-defense and even then only until the U.N. Security Council has taken the necessary measures. In order for the collective security system to function effectively, the resolutions of the U.N. Security Council must be explicitly executed and double standards in conflict settlement avoided, whereby the use of force may not be exercised selectively.

12 [http://untreaty.un.org/cod/ICJsummaries/documents/english/ST-LEG-SER-F-1_E.pdf]. 13 M. Akehurst, Modern Introduction to International Law, New York, 1997, pp. 318-319. 32 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION Alla YAZKOVA

D.Sc. (Hist.), Professor, Director of the Center for Mediterranean-Black Sea Studies, The Institute of Europe, Russian Academy of Sciences (Moscow, the Russian Federation). CONFLICTS IN THE POST-SOVIET SPACE: AN ABKHAZIAN CASE-STUDY

Abstract

he author delves into the national pol- in the Caucasus. Abkhazia and the far T icy of the Russian Empire, the Soviet from simple relations between Georgia Union, and the Russian Federation and the Russian Federation relating to it (particularly its power component) to ex- are used as the starting point for analyz- plain the appearance of the numerous ing the regional conflicts and their reper- ethnoregional and ethnoterritorial conflicts cussions.

Introduction

The Soviet Union left behind numerous ethnoterritorial and ethnopolitical conflicts which had been gaining momentum even before the collapse of the common state. Initiated during perestroika, they were ill-fitted to the democratization policy of the time, which explains why the Soviet state and party functionaries dismissed the settlement efforts as “opposition to the democratic reforms” and “attempts by the local corrupt nomenklatura to hang onto its privileges.” Neither the ideologists of perestroika nor the conservative politicians who resisted perestroika proved able to accept the parade of sovereignties of the Union and then autonomous republics triggered by the failed putsch of August 1991. On the whole, the “national question” was put on the backburner— political issues were high on the agenda. Mikhail Gorbachev later admitted: “Much of what went wrong in the national issue was caused by our delayed or even wrong moves,” and hastened to add that it was “Russia’s sovereignization” that prevented the search for a new formula of relations. It started a chain reaction among the Union and then autonomous republics, which also proclaimed independence.1 There were blunders and there were errors, but we must accept the fact that amid perestroika and democratization, the Soviet Union and later Russia repeatedly used force to suppress the national movements in Tbilisi, Baku, and the Baltic countries. In the Caucasus, Russian troops were involved in the national conflicts and civil wars in Georgia and Azerbaijan, to say nothing of the two Chechen wars. This means that we need to go to the very core of the matter and discover the origins of the Soviet nationalities policy.

1 See: M. Gorbachev, Zhizn i reformy, Book 1, pp. 472, 525. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 33 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION The Origins of the Nationalities Policy

For many reasons and for many centuries the Russian Empire, the Soviet Union’s predecessor, developed as a multinational power which, while expanding in all directions in search of safe borders, assimilated the peoples living in the newly acquired territories. According to the 1897 population census, which asked about native language rather than ethnic affiliation, 47% of the Empire’s population chose Russian. By that time, many subjects of the Russian Empire of different ethnic affilia- tions had been using Russian; this meant that by the end of the 19th century Russians were no longer the numerically dominant ethnicity. The peoples brought together in one country used different languages and had different life styles, cultural traditions, level of social and economic development, and, finally, religions. Accord- ing to official statistics, Orthodox Christians comprised 70.8% of the total population; Catholics amounted to 8.9%; and Muslims to 8.7%. The administrative division into gubernias did not leave space for ethnic territories. In short, the Russian Empire was a conglomerate of peoples and cultures tied, in one way or another, to Russian statehood. The nationalities policy radically changed when the Soviet Union replaced the Russian Empire; during the struggle against autocracy, Lenin favored the idea of a unitary state. After the 1917 Octo- ber revolution in the turmoil of the Civil War, however, the Bolsheviks had to turn to the political leaders of what had been the empire’s national fringes. This made federalization and independent national-state units tied together by treaties inevitable; it became clear that cultural national autonomies, both in the territorial and ex-territorial respect, should be established. Those who insisted that the national question should be resolved through territorial self-governance of nations and nationalities within a common statehood (Stalin’s idea of “autonomization”) realized their approaches in the Soviet Union. It seems that when promoting his idea Stalin was firmly convinced that a “united and indivisible Russian Empire” should be restored (strange as it may seem, this fully coincided with what the white emigration leaders wanted for Russia) and that the national question came second after the question of power. It should be said that the new “ideocratic” empire (Abdurakhman Avtorkhanov’s term) still preserved the Great Power ideas inherited from the past and highly arrogant treatment of the non- Russian nationalities. The general results of the intensive and highly successful expansion of the 18th-19th centuries were explained, very much in violation of the “class approach” to politics, by Russia’s “specific messianic potential” (this became especially evident in the 1930s and 1940s), while unification of the non-Russian peoples within Russia by force was described as a necessary and objectively progressive act. This made the Soviet Union an alliance of “titular nations” of a very special kind, in which some peoples enjoyed limited sovereignty in the form of Union republics, others were even more limited as autonomous republics, while still others had no, no matter how limited, sovereignty or, worse still, were deprived of it for their “crimes.” The hierarchy of the Union and autonomous republics made the situation still more complicated. The totalitarian (authoritarian) regimes that replaced one another throughout Soviet history inevitably fed the latent and steadily mounting urge for national renaissance caused by the desire to preserve the national languages and ethnic specifics. In the mid-1980s, sociologists pointed to an upsurge of national protest which extended into 1990 and 1991, the last year of the Soviet Union.2 The history of relations between Georgia and Abkhazia unfolded as follows. On 31 March, 1921, after the Georgian Democratic Republic of 1918-1921 had been suppressed by force, an inde-

2 This was amply confirmed by the collection of documents published by Russian historians Nesostoiavshiisia iubi- ley. Pochemu SSSR ne otprazdnoval svoego 70-letia?, Moscow, 1992. 34 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION pendent Soviet Socialist Republic of Abkhazia was set up. Abkhazia preserved this status until De- cember 1921 when it became part of the Georgian S.S.R. under a Union treaty. In 1931, it became an autonomous republic (the Abkhazian A.S.S.R.) of Georgia.3 The leaders and public figures of Abkhazia had good reason (accepted by at least some of the Georgian politicians and public figures) to ask the Center to broaden the republic’s national rights and powers. In 1994, while in Moscow, Niko Chavchavadze, Director of the Institute of Philosophy and Deputy of the Georgian parliament, admitted in one his interviews that a small number of Georgian intellectuals were prepared to take the interests of the Abkhazians into consideration; others were concerned about Georgia’s territorial integrity.4 It turned out that the issue, however, was much more complicated than that. Most Georgian politicians remained undecided far too long, thus allowing the disagreements to turn into a fierce conflict and later the war of 1992-1993.

The Conflict Goes Deeper

The prerequisites of the present Russian-Georgian conflict should be sought at the stage of the Soviet Union’s disintegration. In April 1989, Georgia became the first Soviet republic in which the Soviet army used force to disperse a peaceful rally. The civil war, which began shortly after Georgia held an independence referendum in March 1991, brought Eduard Shevardnadze, a pro-Moscow politician, to power. However, he was not liked by some of the Russian top military and members of the communist-patriotic opposition. The conflict in Abkhazia became the highest stumbling block in the relations between Russia and Georgia. In this, very much as in many other cases, the idea of national self-identification was pushed forward to camouflage the vehement contradictions of group (clan) interests—economic, political, and criminal—in Abkhazia and outside it. The events of late 1980s-early 1990s unfolded against a background of sharp contradictions in the Center between those who wanted to carry out the democratic reforms supported by the Congress of People’s Deputies and the conservative-minded part of the Politburo of the C.C. C.P.S.U., along with the party leaders of the Union republics, who were against them (the reforms). The leaders of the numerous autonomous republics tried to capitalize on these contradictions by meandering among the conflicting groups. The Georgian-Abkhazian conflict developed under the pressure of the following factors: Georgia refused to broaden Abkhazian autonomy, while the Abkhazian side placed its stakes on the conservative forces in Russia and the mounting movements for broader autonomous rights in the North Caucasian autonomous republics.5 On 18 March, 1989, 30 thousand Abkhazians gathered in the village of Lykhny for a congress convened by the conservative leaders of Abkhazia; it ruled that Abkhazia should withdraw from Georgia and restore its status as a Soviet republic.6 The documents stirred up protests among the Georgians inside Abkhazia and outside it. Late in March and early April, the situation in the republic rapidly deteriorated until an unsanctioned meeting of several thousand gathered outside the House of Government in Tbilisi to discuss urgent issues. Several days later the situation became unbearable; on 9 April, the demands to liquidate the autonomy of Abkhazia were accompanied by demands to withdraw from the Soviet Union.

3 See: A. Zverev, “Etnicheskie konflikty na Kavkaze. 1988-1994,” in: Spornye granitsy na Kavkaze, Moscow, 1996, p. 41. 4 See: Stolitsa, No. 22, 1994, pp. 10-11. 5 See: A. Zverev, op. cit., p. 46. 6 See: Konflikty v Abkhazii i Iuzhnoy Ossetii. Dokumenty 1989-2006 gg., Moscow, 2008, p. 94. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 35 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

The meetings in the C.C. of the Georgian Communist Party and the C.C. C.P.S.U. in Tbilisi sanctioned the use of force against the demonstrators. Units of Soviet army and riot police from several Russian cities arrived to disperse the gathering with rubber truncheons, tear gas, and entrenching tools. About 4 thousand were injured.7 The public abroad was stirred up by the fact that force was used against a peaceful and unarmed rally. Moscow’s response to the Tbilisi events brought into bolder relief the disagreements in the Center between the conservative-minded Communist Party functionaries and the democratic wing of the Con- gress of People’s Deputies of the U.S.S.R. The decision “to fulfill the request of the republic’s leaders to help them normalize the situation” was passed by a meeting held on 7 April after talks with leaders of the Communist Party of Georgia D. Patiashvili and B. Nikolskiy. It was chaired by Egor Ligachev and attended by V. Chebrikov and D. Yazov, who in August 1991 joined the State Committee for the State of Emergency (GKChP), as well as by A. Lukyanov, who supported the GKChP. The Concluding Docu- ment of the Commission of the Congress of People’s Deputies set up in the wake of the events of 9 April pointed out that the proceedings and decisions of the meetings in the C.C. C.P.S.U. of 7 and 8 April had not been recorded. Militia and army units had been dispatched to Georgia on the strength of the meetings’ oral decisions. According to the Commission, this violated the laws under which the right of decision-making on similar issues belonged to the state rather than party structures.8 The Concluding Document said, in particular, that Georgia was embarking on the “road of democratic development, which is impossible without constant manifestations of all sorts of people’s social activity,” while “the use of force against a peaceful rally or demonstration is unthinkable because it delivers a blow to perestroika and democracy.”9 The document described in detail how the peaceful meeting had been suppressed and why people who had taken part in the events of 9 April had been killed. Signed by prominent politicians A. Sobchak, V. Lukin, N. Nazarbaev, E. Shengelaya, A. Yakovlev, and others, the document was approved by the Congress of People’s Deputies; many of those who took part in dispersing the meeting were later dismissed from their posts. For the next two and a half years (1990-the summer of 1992 when the Sochi agreements were signed), South Ossetia was Georgia’s hottest point. The irresponsible decisions of the then President of Georgia Zviad Gamsakhurdia triggered a civil war in which towns and villages were destroyed and thousands of people had to leave their homes, while the Russian and Georgian sides were driven into the quagmire of an armed conflict. On 24 June, 1992, the conflict was temporarily suspended by an agreement on the principles of settlement of the Georgian-Osset conflict signed by Shevardnadze and Yeltsin in Sochi.10 The conflicts in Georgia and the Southern Caucasus, however, went on unabated. In the summer of 1992, the conflict between Tbilisi and its separatist-minded autonomies shifted to Abkhazia; like in almost all the other cases, the origins, dynamics, and results of this conflict are better seen when placed in the political context.

The 1992-1993 War

So far, the internal reasons for the 1992-1993 armed conflict in Abkhazia have remained unclear even though Georgian and Abkhazian authors indulge in frequently opposing interpretations. In his

7 This information can be found in Bulletin of RIA Novosti of 9 April, 2009, available at [www.ria.ru/politics/ 20090409/167605226.html]. 8 See: Zakliuchenie S’ezda narodnykh deputatov SSSR po rassledovaniiu sobytiy, imevshikh mesto v Tbilisi 9 aprelia 1989 goda, available at [http//sobchak.orgh/rus/docs/zakluchenie.htm]. 9 Ibidem. 10 See: Konflikty v Abkhazii i Iuzhnoy Osetii, pp. 252-253. 36 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION recent book, the then President of Georgia Eduard Shevardnadze covers the tragic events in detail.11 The documents he quotes and his assessments are of great importance for those studying the history of the armed conflict in Abkhazia. He is convinced that the personal factor played an important role in building up tension in the republic: President Gamsakhurdia, a well-known dissident, had no practical experience of governing others. Abkhazia was ruled, under an agreement with Gamsakhurdia, by Vladislav Ardzinba, one of the leaders of a reactionary all-union bloc called Soyuz. Eduard Shevard- nadze is convinced that this played an important role in what happened in Abkhazia.12 Later it became clear that the events of 12-14 August, 1992 signified a step toward war. Accord- ing to the documents Russian academic Svetlana Chervonnaya published shortly afterwards, the Abkhazian leaders started the war on the pretext that the State Council of Georgia had brought its armed units into Abkhazia. Approved during a phone conversations between Shevardnadze and Ar- dzinba, this was done to liberate the Georgian ministers taken hostage by supporters of former Pres- ident Gamsakhurdia.13 More armed units were brought into the autonomous republic to guard the railway via which military cargoes were moved. According to Shevardnadze, this measure was prompted by the incessant complaints of Russia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan that their trains were being plundered in Georgian territory.14 On 31 July, 1992, Georgia, which had been recognized by over 30 states as an independent state with two autonomies (Abkhazia and South Ossetia), became a U.N. member. Early in August the Georgians celebrated the event on a grand scale. According to sociological polls, by that time 65% of the people living in Tbilisi supported the State Council, while 75% pinned their hopes of drawing out of the crisis on Shevardnadze.15 Outside the Georgian capital, however, there was no stability: those who supported the former president became more radical, while the conservative forces in Abkhazia placed the stakes on their partners in Russia. When dealing with the Caucasus, Moscow was inconsistent and contradictory: decision-making on many issues was appropriated by conservative groups in the military and political establishment. This led to an armed conflict in Abkhazia; on 14 August, Vladislav Ardzinba (contrary to the agreements with Tbilisi) called on the Abkhazians to start a “patriotic war.”16 The war proved to be a grim test for Georgia coping with internal strife. The Abkhazian army consisted mostly of new recruits armed with weapons taken from the arsenals of the Russian troops stationed in Abkhazian territory. Moscow and President Yeltsin stood firm: Russia should stay away from the conflict; it supported Georgia’s territorial integrity, but troops of the Transcaucasian Mili- tary District were involved in the hostilities. On 17 August, the Confederation of the Mountain Peo- ples of the Caucasus in Grozny declared its solidarity with Abkhazia; this triggered a flow of all sorts of military units and armed people from North Caucasian republics to Abkhazia. Sooner or later the history of the war in Abkhazia must be studied in detail; today, however, we should be aware of the grave crimes committed by all sides. In her book, Svetlana Chervonnaya describes the blood-chilling events witnessed by Dmitry Kholodov of Moskovskiy komsomolets, who reg-

11 See: E. Shevardnadze, Kogda rukhnul zhelezny zanaves. Vtrechi i vospominaniia, Evropa, Moscow, 2009, pp. 317-378. 12 See: Ibid., p. 324. 13 See: S.M. Chevonnaya, Abkhazia—post-kommunisticheskaia Vandeia, Moscow, 1993, pp. 136-137. In August 1992 S. Chervonnaya, a well-known Russian ethnologist, found herself in the epicenter of the armed conflict in Abkhazia where she went with scholarly purposes on an invitation from Slaviansky Dom. Her book written shortly after the events “in the genre of operative and pressing ethnopolitics” offers eyewitness assessments and valuable documentary evidence. 14 See: E. Shevardnadze, op. cit., p. 337. 15 See: S.M. Chervonnaya, op. cit., p. 127. 16 See: Konflikty v Abkhazii i Iuzhony Osetii, pp. 150-152 (Decisions of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of Abkhazia on Mobilization of the Adult Population and Transfer of Weapons to the Regiment of the Internal Troops of Ab- khazia of 14 August and An Appeal of the Supreme Soviet of Abkhazia to the Supreme Soviet of the Russian Federation of 16 August). Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 37 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION ularly sent reports to Moscow from Abkhazia.17 The young journalist never wavered from the truth: the Abkhazians, Georgians, and Russians were equally guilty of the crimes perpetrated during the hostilities. This cost him his life: upon his return to Moscow he was murdered under unclear circumstances. The talks on a cease-fire were a slow uphill job; early in September Georgia and Russia (Shev- ardnadze and Yeltsin) began negotiations in which Ardzinba was also involved. The sides signed a document that sanctioned Georgia’s military presence in Abkhazia and said nothing about Georgia’s federative order.18 The agreement was violated in October 1992; hostilities were resumed and went on until the summer of 1993. On 27 July, 1993, the Georgian, Abkhazian, and Russian sides signed a cease-fire agreement in Sochi and devised a monitoring mechanism.19 The document envisaged a cease-fire, pullout of the Georgian troops, and mutual delimitation of the warring sides. It also stipulated that the human rights of Abkhazia’s multinational population should be observed, while refugees should be returned to their homes. The last two conditions were never fulfilled, which created tension between Tbilisi and Sukhumi. In December 1993, the first round of Georgian-Abkhazian talks took place in Geneva under the U.N. aegis: the sides pledged not to use force against each other and signed a memorandum on mutual understanding. Before and after these agreements Russian diplomacy actively promoted mutual understanding.

Hard Talks

Finally, on 3 February, 1994, during President Yeltsin’s visit to Tbilisi, the Russian Federation and the Republic of Georgia signed a Treaty of Friendship, Good Neighborly Relations, and Coopera- tion. Art 1 of the Treaty stressed the sides’ willingness to build their relations as friendly states, mutually respect their sovereignty, territorial integrity, and inviolability of borders, and faithfully fulfill their obligations under the treaty. Art 4 stipulated the sides’ mutual pledge to keep away from alliances or blocs aimed against any of them. Art 3 envisaged cooperation in building up defenses, in particular, in creating Georgia’s armed forces, effective realization of the agreements on temporary deployment of Russia’s armed units in Georgia, and joint guarding of the agreed stretches of the state border. Significantly, the Treaty was expected to promote economic cooperation and create conditions conducive to business activities and oil and gas transportation systems. The joint communiqué on the results of the Russian President’s official visit tied together implementation of the treaty and conflict settlement in Georgia. The Georgian parliament ratified the treaty in March 1996; the Russian State Duma refused to comply, however, even though the President and Foreign Ministry of Russia presented the treaty three times for ratification. The document of the Duma Committee for the CIS published by Nezavisimaia gazeta said by way of explanation that “by assuming obligations to Georgia in the Caucasus, which even Russia will hardly be able to fulfill, we shall lose the confidence of the other sides in the conflict and impair our peacekeeping missions.” In the same issue, the newspaper gave the following comment: the document “perfectly fits the well-known conception of Russia’s policies related to its neighbors in the new abroad; specifically, to those that stand opposed to drawing the post-Soviet space into the sphere of Moscow’s vital interests; Georgia, to be more exact.”20 The democratic factions in the Duma energetically supported ratification; they referred to international laws on which the provisions of Georgia’s territorial integrity were based. After World War II, the

17 See: D. Kholodov, “Nikto ne khotel ustupat,” Moskovskiy Komsomolets, 29 July, 1993, p. 4. 18 See: Nezavisimaia gazeta, 4 September, 1992. 19 See: Konflikty v Abkhazii i Iuzhnoy Osetii, pp. 274-276. 20 Nezavisimaia gazeta, 24 February, 1994. 38 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION state borders in Europe were established on the principle of territorial integrity borrowed from Roman law “uti posedis juris.” Art 1 of the U.N. Charter registered “the principle of equal rights and self- determination of peoples”; later documents on European security treated the principle of territorial integrity as a priority. In 1994-1997, Georgian academics and prominent cultural figures frequently visited Moscow to remain in contact with the Russian public and Russian politicians. Russian politicians and experts visited Georgia and Abkhazia and were aware of everything going on there. Late in October 1994, members of the Permanent Peacekeeping Mission for the Conflict in Ab- khazia, among whom there were Nikolai Diko of the Diplomatic Academy of the Foreign Ministry of Russia and Alla Yazkova of IMEPI RAS, visited Abkhazia. The latter summed up the mission in a detailed commentary based on the meetings with the Abkhazian leaders, in which she described the appall- ing situation in which the refugees from Abkhazia had found themselves and had the following to say about Russia’s policy: “Russia today is far from being united and the statements of the opposition forces cannot but cause concern. They provoke the Georgian opposition to make responses and take retaliatory action… Not everyone can objectively assess the importance of the presence of Russian troops.”21 In April 1995, Founder of Obshchaia gazeta Egor Yakovlev received representatives of Geor- gian intelligentsia Elza Zurabian and Alexey Gherasimov, members of the Public Council under the Head of State, and astrophysicist Georgy Machabeli, who said: “We have common historical values, common historical roots, and our mentalities are similar, which means that we should preserve our spiritual ties. Today, Russia pretends that it is neutral. It cannot be neutral! It should abandon intrigues and openly describe its interests in the Caucasus, which will make it easier for the heads of state to start talking… There are ‘parties of war’ in Russia and in Georgia—how much longer will we remain dangling on their hook?”22 Early in the 2000s, there were several meetings within the framework of the unofficial Russian- Georgian dialog which involved public and political figures of both sides.23 The Russian and Geor- gian sides summed up the meetings in their Analytical Reports. The Russian side pointed out that Sukhumi would never accept the broadest possible autonomy for Abkhazia suggested by Tbilisi as a way out of the war and its repercussions… The Abkhazian side was prepared to discuss a confederation of Georgia and Abkhazia.24 The report said, in part, that in these conditions “it is advisable to discuss a formula of asymmetric federalism and sign corresponding agreements between Georgia, on the one side, and Abkhazia and South Ossetia, on the other.”25 The Georgian side, in turn, pointed out that “Russian mediation proved ineffective”26 and mentioned the suggestion Georgia had presented to the U.N. Security Council: Abkhazia as a federation member within Georgia with the broadest possible rights known in the world.27 The sides preferred to ignore the suggestions of the partners; the talks were frozen until 2005 when, according to Russian information agencies, former president of Abkhazia Sergey Bagapsh said that he was only prepared to discuss the status of Abkhazia within Georgia with Mikhail Saakashvili if most of the refugees driven from Abkhazia did not return, the Abkhazian leaders’ monopoly on power was recognized, and the plundered property of the evicted residents of Abkhazia was legalized, that is, if the current status quo was preserved.28 There have been no further developments.

21 “Tam, za rekoy Inguri,” Russian Diplomatic Courier, November 1994, p. 3. 22 Obshchaia gazeta, April 1995. 23 See: Rossisko-gruzinskiy dialog 2002-2003, Moscow, 2003, Collection of documents published by the Commit- tee for Foreign Policy Planning and the Institute of Strategic Assessments with support of the Ebert Foundation. 24 See: Ibid., p. 35. 25 Ibid., pp. 35-36. 26 Ibid., p. 68. 27 See: Ibid., p. 67. 28 [http://www.abkhazeti.ru/pub/abkhtoday/18 03 2005 c//]. Lenta.ru informed at that time that Saakashvili was prepared to talk to Bagapsh in Tbilisi; foreign information agencies doubted this information. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 39 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION Conclusion

Everything that happened later around the conflicts in the territories of Abkhazia and South Ossetia drove Russian-Georgian relations into an impasse, where they remain to this day. Throughout the last decade the conflict around Abkhazia remained smoldering until August 2008, when as a result of the five-day war between Russia and Georgia Abkhazia was proclaimed independent. In one of his interviews, Foreign Minister of Russia Sergey Lavrov said that relations between Russia and Georgia would never be the same as before. In a way, he was right; however Russia stands to lose as much as Georgia.

Przemys³aw ADAMCZEWSKI

Ph.D. (Hist.), Vice Principal of the Higher School of Humanitarian Sciences and Economics (Sieradz, Poland).

LEGITIMACY OF THE ESTABLISHMENT OF “THE NAGORNO-KARABAKH REPUBLIC” IN COMPLIANCE WITH SOVIET LEGISLATION

Abstract

his article examines the legal status of rabakh Autonomous Region did not have T Nagorno-Karabakh in Soviet legisla- any powers or rights with respect to en- tion and analyzes the legitimacy of actment of the region’s unilateral withdraw- establishing the Nagorno-Karabakh Repub- al from Azerbaijan and that not one of its lic on this basis. It shows that the Soviet decisions on this issue has legal implica- of People’s Deputies of the Nagorno-Ka- tions.

Introduction

Although more than two decades have passed since the collapse of the Soviet Union, attempts are still being made to show that establishment of the unrecognized Nagorno-Karabakh Republic was legal under the Soviet legislation in effect at the beginning of the 1990s. These attempts are aimed at legitimizing its existence and, in so doing, promoting recognition of its independence by the international community. Good cases in point are the frequent attempts to legitimize establishment of an independent Nagorno-Karabakh Republic both by Russian authors, for example, Andrey Areshev in his article “Karabakhsky konflikt: istoricheskie i politiko-pravovye aspekty” (The Karabakh Con- 40 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION flict: Historical and Political-Legal Aspects) published in Mayendorfskaia deklaratsiia 2 noiabria 2008 goda i reaktsiia na ee priniatie (The Meyendorff Declaration of 2 November, 2008 and the Response to Its Adoption), and, as stands to reason, by Armenian authors, for example, Levon Melik- Shakhnazarian and Ashot Khachatrian, who presented their arguments on this count in an article called “Nagorno-Karabakhskaia Respublika v svete mezhdunarodnogo prava” (The Nagorno-Kara- bakh Republic in the Light of International Law). Of course, there are many works that address the issue, to one extent or another, of whether the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic was established in compliance with Soviet law. This question has also been repeatedly raised by Armenian politicians, both at the state and international level. All of these arguments are based primarily on several events, the most important being: n The decision of a special session of the regional Soviet of the Nagorno-Karabakh Autono- mous Region (NKAR) of 20 February, 1988 on asking the Supreme Soviets of the Armenian S.S.R., Azerbaijan S.S.R., and U.S.S.R. to examine and come to a positive conclusion on transfer of the NKAR from Azerbaijan to Armenia; n Adoption by the Supreme Soviet of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. on 30 August, 1991 of the Decla- ration on Restoring State Independence of the Azerbaijan Republic. This led to proclamation of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic in 1991 in compliance with the Soviet law in effect at that time, which took place at a joint session of the Nagorno-Karabakh regional and Shahoumian district Soviets of People’s Deputies of 2 September, 1991; n The fact that, after establishment of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic, it was an independent entity in the Soviet Union and did not belong to Azerbaijan; n The fact that independence of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic was established on the basis of a referendum held in December 1991, this being confirmed by the collapse of the Soviet Union at the end of the same month. However, a close look at the matter shows that the arguments relating to the authority to create the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic in compliance with Soviet law are full of contradictions and, primarily, they ignore everything that does not coincide with the thesis accepted a priori.

The Legal Status of Nagorno-Karabakh in Soviet Law

In order to study the possible legitimacy of the secession of Nagorno-Karabakh from Azerba- ijan in compliance with Soviet law, we must first study its legal status. It was mainly set forth in three documents. Art 87 of the U.S.S.R. Constitution of 1977 says that the Nagorno-Karabakh Autonomous Region (NKAR) belongs to the Azerbaijan S.S.R., while Art 86 points out that the law on the autonomous region, in accordance with the statement of the Soviet of People’s Deputies of the autonomous region, is adopted by the Supreme Soviet of the Union republic to which the region belongs. The Constitution of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. also addressed the question of the NKAR in Arts 83, 84, and 138. However, the basic document defining the status of the NKAR was the Law on the Nagorno- Karabakh Autonomous Region of 16 June, 1981 adopted by the Supreme Soviet of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. in accordance with a statement by the NKAR Soviet of People’s Deputies. It laid down the basis for organizing and carrying out the activity of the autonomy’s power bodies, their powers, and their relations with the republican and Union authorities. The definition of the competence of the NKAR Soviet of People’s Deputies set forth in the said documents was extremely important with respect to the attempts to substantiate secession of the Nagorno-Karabakh Autonomous Re- Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 41 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION gion from Azerbaijan. The powers of this local body were mainly concentrated on socio-cultural and economic activity. In compliance with Soviet laws, both Union and republic, not one document endowed the NKAR Soviet of People’s Deputies with the competence to examine questions at its sessions concerning secession of the region from the republic. Such rights were only granted to the Union republics. The Law of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. on the Nagorno-Karabakh Autonomous Region adopted by the Supreme Soviet of the Az.S.S.R. in 1986 significantly expanded the provisions of the U.S.S.R. Constitution of 1977 concerning the NKAR. While the U.S.S.R. Constitution did not mention that the territory of an autonomous region could not be altered without its consent (such mention related only to autonomous republics), the republican law of 1986 indicates specifically that “the territory of an autonomous region cannot be altered without the consent of the Soviet of People’s Deputies of the Nagorno-Karabakh Autonomous Region.”1 In so doing, the fact must be emphasized that Art 78 of the U.S.S.R. Constitution indicated that the territory of a Union republic cannot be altered without its consent. If such consent were obtained, it had to be approved by the U.S.S.R. Supreme Soviet. So the Constitution established that the Union authorities would make the final decision concerning any territorial changes to the republics. The constitutions of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. and Armenian S.S.R. also mentioned the need to reach mutual consent in issues regarding border changes between republics. Attempts to begin the formal-legal process of secession of the NKAR from the Azerbaijan S.S.R. began in 1988. On 20 February, a special session of the NKAR people’s deputies asked the Supreme Soviets of the Armenian S.S.R., Azerbaijan S.S.R., and U.S.S.R. to examine and come to a positive conclusion on the transfer of the NKAR from the Azerbaijan S.S.R. to the Armenian S.S.R. As early as June, the Supreme Soviet of the Armenian S.S.R. consented to making the NKAR part of the republic. Keeping in mind this positive response, a decision was adopted at the session of the NKAR Regional Soviet of People’s Deputies of 12 July, 1988 to secede from the Azer- baijan S.S.R.2 The absence of Azerbaijan’s consent meant that this decision violated Art 78 of the U.S.S.R. Constitution and the Constitution of the Azerbaijan S.S.R., to which all decisions adopted by the Soviet of an Autonomous Region had to correspond. Moreover, in correspondence with Art 42 of the Law of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. on the Nagorno-Karabakh Autonomous Region, the NKAR Soviet of People’s Deputies could make a decision within the limits of the powers granted it in compliance with Soviet and Azerbaijan S.S.R. law. On the basis of the same article, if Union or republican laws were violated by a regional Soviet of People’s Deputies, the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. could cancel such a decision. This happened as early as 13 July, when, referring to the above-mentioned legislative acts, the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. deemed the decision of the NKAR Soviet of People’s Deputies of 12 July, 1988 on the autonomous region’s unilateral secession from the Azerbaijan S.S.R. to be in contradiction to current law and, consequently, devoid of all legal implications.3 This question was also examined by the U.S.S.R. Supreme Soviet, which adopted a corresponding resolution on 18 July. It was emphasized that, as a result of the decision of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. Supreme Soviet, it was impossible for the NKAR to accede to the Armenian S.S.R., since this would violate the constitutionally established national-territorial division of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. and Ar-

1 Law of the Az.S.S.R. on the Nagorno-Karabakh Autonomous Region, available at [www.iatp.am/gharabagh_ conflict/zak2.htm], 15 June, 2012. 2 See: “Nagorno-karabakhsky konflikt,” available at [http://dic.academic.ru/dic.nsf/politology/1839/%D0%9D% D0%B0%D0%B3%D0%BE%D1%80%D0%BD%D0%BE], 15 June, 2012. 3 See: K. Ali, “‘Nezavisimost’ Karabakha, vkliuchennogo v Armeniiu. Tupik chetvertyy,” available at [http://www. novosti.az/analytics/20100316/43324955.html], 29 March, 2010. 42 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION menian S.S.R. This decision ensued from Art 78, according to which the borders of a union republic cannot be altered without its consent, and Art 87, which says that the NKAR belongs to the Azer- baijan S.S.R. On 17 September, 1989, the Supreme Soviet of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. adopted a document that had a significant impact on subsequent events. This document stated that the Supreme Soviet of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. has the right to establish and eliminate autonomous formations in its territory.4 This was obviously the legal basis to be referred to should the republic’s authorities adopt a decision to eliminate the NKAR. Until the constitutional law was adopted, the provision of the 1981 law was in effect that said that the borders of the NKAR could not be altered without the consent of its authorities. This law expanded the provision of the U.S.S.R. Constitution of 1977 in correspondence with which the provision that the borders of an autonomous formation cannot be altered without the consent of its authorities related only to autonomous republics; this provision did not extend to Nagorno- Karabakh, which was an autonomous region. So the act adopted on 17 September by the Supreme Soviet of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. set forth the legal procedure that corresponds to the U.S.S.R. Consti- tution. Moreover, the declaration of 5 October, 1989 by the Supreme Soviet of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. regarding the republic’s sovereignty in the U.S.S.R. was also important. Art 6 said that the laws of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. are in effect throughout the territory of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. Laws of the U.S.S.R. that do not violate the sovereign rights of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. are in effect in the territory of the Azerbaijan S.S.R.5 However, at the joint session held on 1 December, 1989, the Supreme Soviet of the Armenian S.S.R. and the National Council of Nagorno-Karabakh adopted a decision On Reunification of the Armenian S.S.R. and Nagorno-Karabakh. The decision was adopted contrary to the Union laws, since the law did not envisage the existence of such a body as the National Council of Nagorno-Karabakh. Moreover, it was a violation of Art 78 of the U.S.S.R. Constitution, which stated that the borders of a Union republic cannot be altered without its consent. All of this was set forth by the U.S.S.R. Su- preme Soviet in a resolution of 10 January, 1990.6 In order to create additional semblance of the legality of the Nagorno-Karabakh’s accession to the Armenian S.S.R., on 13 February, 1990, the Supreme Soviet of Armenia adopted a resolution on deeming illegal the decision of the Caucasian Bureau of the C.C. of the Russian Communist Party (Bolsheviks) of 5 July, 1921 on the accession of Nagorno-Karabakh to Azerbaijan.7 This was related to the fact that the Armenian side believed that a party authority could not adopt decisions on the borders of republics that at that time were de jure independent. The Azerbaijani side thought that the Supreme Soviet of the Armenian S.S.R. had exceeded its powers and that it could not adopt decisions on alterations to the borders of other Union republics.8 Even without examining the legality and substantiation of the mentioned decision of the Caucasian Bureau, Nagorno-Karabakh’s affiliation to Azerbaijan was confirmed in several government documents, including the U.S.S.R. Constitution of 1977. Thus, even without taking into consideration the legality of the Communist Party’s decision of 1921, the fact that Nagorno-Karabakh belonged to the Azerbaijan S.S.R. could not be disputed in accordance with Soviet law. On 3 April, 1990, the U.S.S.R. Supreme Soviet adopted a key document, the Law of the U.S.S.R. on the Procedure of Secession of a Union Republic from the U.S.S.R. (hereafter referred to as “The Law on the Procedure”), on the basis of which attempts are being made to this day to

4 See: V. Krivopuskov, “Miatezhnyy Karabakh,” available at [http://armenianhouse.org/krivopuskov/karabakh/ 009-125.html], 14 June, 2012. 5 See: Konstitutsionnyy zakon o suverenitete Azerbaidzhanskoi SSR, available at [http://constitutions.ru/archives/ 2893], 14 June, 2012. 6 See: S. Lavrenov, “Karabakhskiy uzel,” available at [http://constitutions.ru/archives/2893], 14 February, 2009. 7 See: V. Bogdanovich, A. Manachinsky, Iu. Egorov, Konflikty i voyny posle raspada SSSR, Kiev, 2008, p. 375. 8 See: I. Mammadov, T. Musaev, Armiano-azerbaidzhansky konflikt, Tula, 2006, p. 59. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 43 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION legalize the establishment of the so-called Nagorno-Karabakh Republic. It set forth the procedure for the secession of republics from the Soviet Union in accordance with Art 72 of the U.S.S.R. Constitution, which said that each Union republic has the right to freely secede from the Soviet Union.9 In this respect, the law was aimed at setting forth steps to be taken in the event a Union republic decided to secede from the U.S.S.R. According to the Union laws, the decision of a Union republic to secede from the U.S.S.R. must be made by means of a referendum. The Supreme Soviet of the Union Republic wishing to secede from the Union called for it to be held. It is also important that, according to the law, if the Union Republic had autonomous formations within its borders, referendums were to be conducted separately in each of them. The people residing in the autonomies had the right to independently decide whether to remain in the Soviet Union or in the seceding republic. Moreover, referendum results were to be considered separately for the territory of a Un- ion Republic with a compactly settled ethnic minority population which constituted a majority in that particular territory of the Republic. A referendum was considered successful if no less that two-thirds of the citizens with the right to vote who live permanently in the Union republic at the time of the referendum were in favor of secession. The referendum results were then to be reviewed in the republic’s Supreme Soviet together with the Supreme Soviet of the autonomous formation or with the relevant Soviets of People’s Deputies. In accordance with the Law, the Supreme Soviet of the Union Republic was to report on the referendum results to the U.S.S.R. Supreme Soviet. The referendum results were then submitted to the U.S.S.R. Congress of People’s Deputies, which also took into account the opinion of the government bodies of the corresponding Union formations regarding the adopted decision. The Congress established an interim period that was not to exceed five years, during which all problems arising in connection with the secession of the Republic from the U.S.S.R. were to be resolved. It envisaged creating joint committees for engaging in issues relating to borders and military facilities, financial matters, and so on. At the end of the interim period or preliminary resolution of all matters envisaged by the law, the Supreme Soviet was to convene a Congress of People’s Deputies of the U.S.S.R. to make a decision confirming that all issues had been completely resolved and the demands, both of the Union republic and of the Soviet Union, as well as of the autonomous formations and ethnic groups living in the particular republic, had been met. In so doing, the final decision belonged to the Congress of People’s Deputies of the U.S.S.R., and only it had legal implications. The key event that was used as the basis for Nagorno-Karabakh’s legal secession from Azerba- ijan was adoption by the Supreme Soviet of Azerbaijan on 30 August, 1991 of the Declaration on Restoring State Independence of the Azerbaijan Republic. It declared restoration of Azerbaijan’s independence, referring to the Azerbaijan Democratic Republic that existed in 1918-1920. This document was repeatedly used in attempts to legalize establishment of the Nagorno-Kara- bakh Republic.10 In particular, it was mentioned in the Declaration on its proclamation, which said that “ascertaining proclamation by the Azerbaijani Republic of ‘restoration of 1918-1920 state independence,’” the joint session of the Nagorno-Karabakh regional and Shahoumian district Soviets of People’s Deputies with the participation of deputies of Soviets of all levels proclaims the establishment of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic.11 This argument is also often supported by the fact that reference was made to the Azerbaijan state of 1918-1920, as well as to the preamble of the Constitu- tion of the Azerbaijan Republic of 1995, in which illegal seizure of power by the Communists in this country in 1920 was recognized. In this way, according to some political scientists, Azerbaijan de-

9 See: Zakon SSSR “O poriadke reshenia voprosov, sviazannykh s vykhodom soiuznoi respubliki iz SSSR,” available at [http://sevkrimrus.narod.ru/ZAKON/1990.htm], 19 January, 2010. 10 See, for example: L. Melik-Shakhnazarian, “Svidetelstvo o nezakonnom rozhdenii,” available at [www.voskanapat. info/news/2009-10-20-72], 9 March, 2010. 11 See: Declaration on the Proclamation of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic, available at [http://www.nkr.am/en/ declaration/10/], 14 June, 2012. 44 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION prived itself of a legal basis for claiming the state borders of the Soviet period and, consequently, there are no legal grounds to claim that Nagorno-Karabakh is part of Azerbaijan.12 Nevertheless, the Azerbaijan Declaration of 30 August, 1991 does not have any international legal implications since it is only a manifesto containing a reference to the tradition of Azerbaijan statehood after World War I. This ensued from the principle that the succession of states is not violated by interstate agreements on border issues, which is expressed, among other things, in Art 11, Item “b” of the Vienna Convention of the Succession of States in Respect of Treaties adopted in 1978.13 If its principles were not followed, many absurd situations would appear in international relations. For example, Russia, as the successor of the Soviet Union, assumed rights and obligations under contracts entered by the U.S.S.R.14 Among them were agreements on the external borders of the Union state and therefore, if there had not been a compulsory rule about the succession of borders, Russia could have claimed the state borders of the Soviet Union. Following the logic that Nagorno-Karabakh does not belong to Azerbaijan, since the latter referred to the Azerbaijan state of 1918-1920, another interesting fact is revealed. Had the R.S.F.S.R. Congress of People’s Deputies or, possibly, the Supreme Soviet of the Russian Federation made similar claims, at the beginning of the 1990s the country might have returned to the prerevolutionary borders of czarist Russia and in so doing included, in particular, Finland and a large part of Polish territory along with Warsaw in present-day Russia. In so doing, the fact that the Azerbaijan Republic referred to inheriting the Azerbaijan Democratic Republic could only have symbolic meaning and in no way entail international legal implications. What is more, even in Azerbaijan, the Declaration of 30 August, 1991 is not considered an act of establishment of the independence of this country. It was established by a “constitutional act on state independence of the Azerbaijan Republic,” which was not adopted by the Supreme Soviet until 18 October.15 Moreover, the reference in the Preamble of the Azerbaijan Constitution to the Azerbaijan Dem- ocratic Republic cannot be a basis for interpretation through the prism of the 1918-1920 borders, since it is only of a declarative nature. For example, in the preamble to the Polish Constitution there is a reference to the First and Second Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth (Rzeczpospolita),16 but this is not an international legal argument for declaring that Vilnius and Lvov be included in the present- day Polish borders. Nevertheless, Armenian politicians and some political scientists wishing to legalize the establishment of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic refer to the fact that in mid-1991 Azerbaijan began the process of secession from the Soviet Union, which, in turn, in compliance with the Law on the Proce- dure permitted Nagorno-Karabakh to declare the establishment of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic on 2 September, 1991. Then holding a referendum was to have led to the fact that when the international community recognized the independence of the Azerbaijan Republic, the former NKAR would no longer be a part of it. So establishment of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic was supposedly carried out without violation of international regulations and the territorial integrity of Azerbaijan. The fact that Nagorno-Karabakh was still part of the Soviet Union in December 1991, that is, before the official collapse of the Soviet Union (this occurred at the end of December), should have made it possible to hold a referendum on the basis of the Law on the Procedure. Its results, in turn, would have led to acquiring independence.

12 See: G. Melik-Shakhnazarov, “Politizatsiia istorii kak istochnik napriazhenia mezhnatsionalnykh otnoshenii,” in: Mayendorfskaia deklaratsiia 2 noiabria 2008 goda i reaktsia na ee priniatie, Moscow, 2009, p. 317. 13 See: Vienna Convention on Succession of States in Respect of Treaties, available at [www.vilp.de/Enpdf/e013. pdf], 9 March, 2010. 14 See: “Note of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Federation to the Heads of Diplomatic Representa- tive Offices in Moscow of 13 January, 1992,” in: Mezhdunarodnoe pravo: sbornik dokumentov, Moscow, 2000, pp. 73-74. 15 “Prazdniki Azerbaidzhana,” available at [www.dipinfo.ru/gk/azerbaijan/azerbaijanfestival#8], 20 October, 2011. 16 See: Constitution of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, available at [http://www.sejm.gov.pl/prawo/konst/ polski/wstep.htm], 14 June, 2012. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 45 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

The main legislative act on which supporters of the legality of secession of Nagorno-Karabakh from Azerbaijan relied was the Law on the Procedure of Secession of a Union Republic from the U.S.S.R. and in particular its Art 3, which said: “In case the Union Republic has autonomous republics, autonomous regions or autonomous territories within its borders, referendums are to be conducted separately in each of the autonomies. The people residing in the autonomies are given a right to independently decide whether to remain in the Soviet Union or in the seceding Union republic, as well as to decide on their state legal status.” In so doing, the fact is ignored that declaration of the establishment of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic violated several provisions of this Law, in particular: —Art 4 (The Supreme Soviet of a Union republic is to form a commission with participation of all interested parties); —Art 6 (In a Union republic that has autonomous republics, autonomous regions, autonomous territories or territories with compactly settled national minority population, as mentioned in the second part of Art 3 of the present Law, within its borders, the results of the referendum are to be reviewed by the Supreme Soviet of the Union Republic jointly with the Supreme Soviet of the Autonomous Republic and respective Soviets of People’s Deputies); —Art 7 (The Supreme Soviet of a Union Republic then submits the results of the referendum along with the necessary conclusions and suggestions made by the respective state authorities to the Supreme Soviet of the U.S.S.R. If it is verified that the referendum is conducted in accordance with the law, the Supreme Soviet of the U.S.S.R. takes it to the Congress of the People’s Deputies of the U.S.S.R. for review. In case the law is violated during the course of the referendum, the Supreme Soviet of the U.S.S.R. makes a decision to conduct a second referendum within three months); —Art 9 (Results of a referendum are to be reviewed by the Congress of People’s Deputies of the U.S.S.R. which sets an interim period); —Art 14 (During the interim period the Council of Ministers of the U.S.S.R., bodies of state government of Union republics and autonomous formations shall settle property and financial matters); —Art 20 (Confirmation at the U.S.S.R. Congress of People’s Deputies of the fact that the differences between the Union republic seceding from the U.S.S.R. and autonomous entities belonging to this republic have been settled). According to Armenian politicians, proclamation of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic led to the fact that it became a direct administrative unit in the Soviet Union. However, in the Soviet period, this interpretation did not have a legal basis. Moreover, it could lead to a paradox if we proceed from the fact that the decisions of the Armenian S.S.R. and NKAR concerning secession from the Azerbaijan S.S.R. would have had legal implications. So the indicated Declaration does not correspond to the decision of 1 December, 1989 on the accession of Nagorno-Karabakh to Armenia, or to the Declara- tion on Armenia’s Independence of 23 August, 1990, which indicates that the independence of the Republic of Armenia is declared, among other things, in correspondence with the provisions of the resolution of 1 December, 1989 adopted at a joint session of the Supreme Soviet of the Armenian S.S.R. and the National Council of Nagorno-Karabakh.17 Thus, if the legality of the two decisions is recognized, they would clearly contradict each other. However, the referendum of 10 December, 1991 should not be equated with the referendum envisaged by the Law on the Procedure, since they addressed different issues. The latter related to the question of further existence in the U.S.S.R. or in the seceding republic, whereas the referendum held in

17 See: Deklaratsiia o nezavisimosti Armenii, available at [www.parliament.am/legislation.php?sel=show&ID= 2602&lang=rus], 18 November, 2010. 46 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Nagorno-Karabakh looked at the following question: “Do you accept that the proclaimed Nagorno- Karabakh Republic be an independent state independently determining the forms of cooperation with other states and communities?”18 This referendum was not enforced by Soviet law, so holding it cannot be justified under the latter. What is more, the Law on the Procedure did not permit the Soviet of Peo- ple’s Deputies of the autonomous formation belonging to the Union republic that made the decision to secede from the Soviet Union (we are not examining here the question of whether the decision of the Supreme Soviet of the Azerbaijan Republic of 30 August is a legal act of secession from the Soviet Union) to make a unilateral decision on secession of the autonomous formation from the republic. In this case, other contradictions appear when trying to prove the legitimacy of establishment of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic in compliance with Soviet laws. Political scientists, such as Andrey Areshev, show that the decision of the special session of the NKAR People’s Deputies of 20 February, 1988 corresponded to the law. In this respect, an important question arises: Did Nagorno-Karabakh belong to Azerbaijan or Armenia before 2 September, 1991? If it belonged to Azerbaijan, all of Arme- nia’s efforts to withdraw the region from Baku’s jurisdiction should be deemed invalid. Difficulties would also have arisen in interpreting the Declaration on Armenia’s Independence, in which there is reference to the decision on unification with Nagorno-Karabakh. If, however, Nagorno-Karabakh belonged to Armenia, we would have the absurd situation of Nagorno-Karabakh’s secession from Armenia and not from Azerbaijan in the fall of 1991. So any decision regarding proclamation of Azerbaijan’s independence is not grounds for justifying the legality of establishment of the Nagorno- Karabakh Republic. The logic of the defenders of Soviet law, who make it imperative with respect to secession from a Union republic, is also violated in the following case. In accordance with the decision of the U.S.S.R. Supreme Soviet of 3 April, 1991 On Introduction of the Law of the U.S.S.R. On the Proce- dure of Secession of a Union Republic from the U.S.S.R., any action relating to posing the question of secession of a Union republic from the U.S.S.R. and contradicting the Law of the U.S.S.R. On the Procedure of Secession of a Union Republic from the U.S.S.R. taken both before and after it came into effect do not have any legal implications for either the U.S.S.R. or for the Union republics.”19 So it can be asserted that proclamation of Azerbaijan’s independence contrary to the Law did not have any legal implications and so it remained part of the Soviet Union until December 1991. As a result, Nagorno-Karabakh would not have any legal grounds for seceding from Azerbaijan. A similar situation could also be applied to Armenia, which, like all the other Union republics, did not observe the Law on the Procedure either. The reason for this was that adoption of this law was dictated by need owing to the growing trend toward decentralization in the republics that emerged at the end of the 1980s. In fact, its adoption was not meant for regulating the procedure of secession from the Soviet Union, but on the contrary was aimed at blocking this possibility in accordance with Art 72 of the Constitution. The procedure created was so complicated it was essentially impossible to observe. It was understood that, by introducing this law, national minorities could become a fifth column of union dissidents who could influence the course of events in certain republics. Azerbaijan did not secede from the Soviet Union and did not declare its independence in accordance with Soviet law. In the fall of 1991, a special Congress of People’s Deputies of the U.S.S.R. was held, which examined the statehood of entities of the Soviet state,20 and the Law on State Power and Government Bodies in the Interim Period was adopted.21 On its basis, the U.S.S.R. National Coun-

18 “Referendum,” available at [http://www.nkr.am/ru/referendum/42/], 13 June, 2012. 19 Resolution of the Supreme Soviet of the U.S.S.R. of 3 April, 1990, available at [http://lawrussia.ru/texts/le- gal_346/doc346a546x339.htm], 13 June, 2012. 20 See: “Pervoe zasedanie Gossoveta: suverennaia politika pri ekonomicheskom sotrudnichestve,” Izvestia, 9 Sep- tember, 1991. 21 See: Zakon SSSR “Ob organakh gosudarstvennoi vlasti i upravleniia Soiuza SSR v perekhodnyy period” ot 5 sentiabria 1991 goda, available at [http://pravo.levonevsky.org/baza/soviet/sssr0036.htm], 30 March, 2010. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 47 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION cil was created, which was to resolve domestic and foreign policy matters concerning the republics’ common interests. In addition, the Congress declared an interim period for developing a new system of interstate relations, the purpose of which was to enter an agreement on a Union of Sovereign States. The desires of the republics to become entities of international law and member states of the U.N. were supported. The Congress expressed respect for the Union republics (other administrative units, like autonomous regions, for example, were not mentioned), which adopted a declaration on sovereignty and acts of independence. The fact was also emphasized that non-accession to the new union would make it necessary to hold talks with the Soviet Union to resolve a set of issues relating to secession, as well as to immediate accession of the independent republics to the Nuclear Non- Proliferation Treaty, as well as to the Final Act of the CSCE and other relevant acts and international agreements.22 Azerbaijan was also quickly recognized by other states as a full-fledged participant in international relations. The basis for this was the uti possidetis iuris principle. This is a generally accepted rule that applies to post-colonial territories and former union members in which adiminstra- tive borders exist that functioned in the preceding political system.23 In so doing, it is not ethnic criteria that are taken into account, but only the fact that the borders of new states should correspond to the borders of the Union republics that already existed. The uti possidetis iuris principle was confirmed in 1986 when the U.N. International Court recognized it as the main component of international legal order.24 So, in correspondence with the uti possidetis iuris principle, at the time Azerbaijan declared its independence in 1991 and this fact was recognized by the international community, its borders were established on the borders of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. and so the territory of the former NKAR also became part of it. This is shown by serveral Soviet legislative documents, and primarily by the U.S.S.R. Constitution, the Constitution of the Azerbaijan S.S.R., and the Law of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. on the Nagorno-Karabakh Autonomous Region. From the viewpoint of international legal acts, even abolishment of the NKAR as an administrative unit by the Supreme Soviet of Azerbaijan of 26 November, 1991, would not have led to its secession from the existing republic.25

Conclusion

Attempts to justify the legality of establishment of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic based on Soviet legislation are unjustified and contradict each other. The assertions that Nagorno-Karabakh seceded from Azerbaijan on the basis of the Law on the Procedure of Secession of a Union Republic from the U.S.S.R. have propagandistic implications, since they are in no way justified. The thesis that the Declaration on Proclamation of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic was adopted in correspondence with Art 3 of the Law on the Procedure is commensurable with attempts to prove that Ilham Aliev could become president of Armenia. This would have followed from the fact that the Elections Code of the Republic of Armenia envisages that the president of the country can only be someone older than 35. In keeping with this kind of logic, regardless of whether it contradicted other provisions of

22 See: Postanovlenie S’ezda Narodnykh Deputatov SSSR “O merakh, vytekaiushchikh iz sovmestnogo Zaiavleniia Prezidenta SSSR i vysshikh rukovoditelei soiuznykh respublik i reshenii vneocherednoi sessii Verkhovnogo Soveta SSSR” ot 5 sentiabria 1991 goda, available at [www.bibliotekar.ru/mihail-gorbachev/84.htm], 18 January, 2010. 23 See: A. Pellet, “The Opinions of the Badinter Arbitration Committee. A Second Breath for the Self-Determina- tion of Peoples,” European Journal of International Law, No. 3, 1992, pp. 178-185. 24 See: S. Oeter, ‘The Right of Self-Determination in Transition Deliberations on the Debate on Self-Determination, the Right of Secession and ‘Premature’ Recognition,” Law and Society, No. 49/50, 1994, p. 153. 25 See: Zakon Azerbaidzhanskoi Respubliki “Ob uprazdnenii Nagorno-Karabakhskoi avtonomnoi regioni Azerbaid- zhanskoi Respubliki” ot 26 noiabria 1991 goda, available at [www.zewo.ru/laws/0279-xii.html], 19 March, 2010. 48 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION the Code, the only important thing would be that Ilham Aliev corresponded to this prerequisite. The situation is the same with the Law on the Procedure. Not only is there no evidence that the conditions set forth in Art 3 were executed when forming the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic, nor is there any proof that the other requirements set forth by the Law on the Procedure were carried out. Another key issue is the question of competence. The NKAR Union of People’s Deputies did not have the relevant legal competence for settling issues relating to the decision on national independence and so could not adopt resolutions on secession from Azerbaijan. Following the logic of the arguments of politicians and political scientists who think that the decision of 2 September, 1991 was legal, we can claim that the administration of the Derbent District, for instance, could make a final decision to secede from Russia and become part of Azerbaijan. Attempts to legalize the creation of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic on the basis of Soviet legislation are farcical and aimed only at those not well-versed in the basic documents that apply to the NKAR. These attempts are even more surprising since the question of the international community recognizing the independence of the Nagorno-Karabakh Republic will not be based on whether it was formed in accordance with Soviet law or not. The subjectivity of a state and its capacity to participate in international relations is determined by recognition by other states, which in turn is a political act. On the other hand, the decision to recognize independence or not is the sovereign affair of every state. International recognition of the independence of the Azerbaijan Republic and Republic of Armenia at the beginning of the 1990s was not based on whether they appeared in correspondence with Soviet law or not. It was a political issue. The attempts to prove by all means that the unrecognized Nagorno- Karabakh Republic was established in correspondence with the Soviet law are more detrimental than helpful to the promulgators in reaching their intended goal. At the same time, the impression is created that the authors of this approach do not have enough other arguments to prove that the Nagorno- Karabakh Republic deserves recognition by the international community as an independent entity of international relations. And we wonder if this is even possible.

Hans-Joachim SPANGER

Ph.D. (Political Science), Member of the Executive Board and Head of the Research Department on Governance and Societal Peace at the Peace Research Institute Frankfurt (Frankfurt, Germany).

GREAT POWER PREDICAMENTS AND THEIR ROLE IN THE CAUCASUS CONFLICTS

Abstract

ompared to other conflicts, the great The only exception to their virtual absence C powers have played only a limited role was the August war in 2008, in which Rus- in conflict resolution in the Caucasus. sia and the EU became directly and the U.S. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 49 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION indirectly involved. The war revealed fea- conservatives and liberal internationalists, tures of the great power interplay that are on the one hand, and pragmatic realists, instructive for the broader picture. on the other. The latter prevailed, but only For Russia, the August war was a after Obama assumed office. Within the defining moment in its role as an independ- European Union, the war equally intensi- ent power center. This is still relevant to- fied the fundamental differences concern- day. In the U.S., the Caucasian War called ing Russia and the nature of the Russian into question fundamental assumptions in regime. However the French president was its policy toward Russia and the CIS, but it able to prevent the Union from being com- also revealed the deep split between neo- pletely deadlocked.

Introduction

The conflicts in the Southern Caucasus have one thing in common: they have produced only losers. Territories were seized, but only at the price of remarkable losses in population: in Abkhazia the number of people decreased from 525,000 to 200,000, in South Ossetia from 99,000 to 34,000, and in Nagorno-Karabakh from 200,000 to 145,000, not to mention the occupied Azerbaijani territories that have been completely emptied. Large groups of people were “ethnically cleansed” and, as of today, more than a million of refugees are forced to live in deplorable conditions. National economies have stalled, state budgets are overburdened, and only one segment in the state and society seems to be thriving: the military.1 This has been going on for two decades with not much change and no end in sight. This raises the question, why? Obviously, rational actors are in short supply, which is the essence of war. Hence suffering alone has hardly ever been sufficient reason to make peace; and the proponents of letting wars bleed out have never managed to determine a plausible level of suffi- ciency. But what about external support? In our times, terminating war is in most cases brokered and in some instances even forced upon the warring parties by outside great powers displaying a measure of rationality and disposing of the necessary sticks and carrots. However, apparently not so in the Caucasus. This is all the more surprising as the Caucasus is by no means a remote spot on the map of world politics. Just the opposite: its geostrategic location is of vital importance to many great powers. Iran, Afghanistan, and energy are only three of the currently most contentious issues in which the area holds many keys. Nevertheless, engagement has been miniscule, confined to OSCE missions, inter- mittent mediation, and a negligible presence (the 110-mile-long ceasefire line between Azerbaijan and Armenia, for instance, is monitored by only six unarmed observers from the OSCE).2 This is true of the U.S., the European Union, and Russia. And it is all the more striking if compared to direct military interventions such as those in Kosovo, Iraq, Libya, the great efforts aimed at achieving a peace settlement in Bosnia (the Dayton Agreement), and high-profile diplomatic activities such as the current preoccupation with the civil war in Syria. The low profile of the great powers is hard to explain. Their interests invariably point in the direction of engagement, but that, obviously, is only one of the minimally required condition. Yet awareness, certainly another of the more important minimally required conditions, has varied. The CNN factor, for instance, has been as conspicuously absent most of the time as the rivalry between the great powers in pursuing their interests in the region.

1 Between 2006 and 2008 Georgia and Azerbaijan had the highest increases in military spending globally. 2 See: Th. de Waal, “Armenia and Azerbaijan Are at it Again,” 30 March, 2011, available at [http://nationalinterest. org/commentary/armenia-azerbaijan-at-it-again-5087]. 50 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

The latter raises the question as to how and to what extent the conflicts in the Caucasus influence great power relations. These conflicts could be a divisive force or the opposite, i.e., situated at the receiving end of great power relations. Being a bone of contention in its own right, the respective conflicts in the Caucasus could translate into a deterioration of great power relations proper. Con- versely, the state of these relations could also be reflected in the ways the conflicts in the Caucasus are developing and how they are being dealt with—from escalation via mediation to neglect. The only noticeable exception to the virtual absence of the great powers was the August war in 2008, when one of the allegedly “frozen” conflicts raised tension to boiling point: Russia and the EU became directly involved—the former militarily, the latter diplomatically—and the U.S. stopped short of showing an equally high profile. The war revealed a number of features of the great power interplay that are also instructive for the broader picture. Some came and went, while others are of a more lasting nature. It is therefore worth looking back at how these powers—notably Russia, the U.S., and the EU—perceived the war and each other and what role the war played in their overall predicament.3

RussiaAssertive and Offensive

For Russia, the August war 2008 was a defining moment for putting into practice what previously remained merely declaratory: its role as an independent power center to be reckoned with. Since 2007, the latest—i.e., Putin’s legendary speech at the Munich Security Conference—basic premise of Moscow’s foreign policy has been that besides the U.S. and China, as well as to a lesser extent India or Brazil, Russia is the only country capable of having a “truly independent foreign policy.”4 This notion has several implications. For one, it ought to be evident that the vision of Russia as an ultimate part of the West has def- initely become obsolete.5 This expectation of liberal internationalism was just as illusionary from the very beginning as Francis Fukuyama’s postulate that history had come to an end with the victory over the socialist system. Moreover, it has become part of the standard repertoire of officially announced self-affirmation that during the first decade of the new millennium Russia managed to return “to global politics, the global economy and finance as an active, fully-fledged actor.”6 Since in the view of Moscow’s political class this is not being sufficiently noticed or appreciated elsewhere, it is linking its demands to be given a hearing, to be allowed to participate on an equal footing, and to have its interests taken into consideration with the rejection of any kind of “lecturing” and “colonial-style restrictions” handed down from the 1990s.7 The demand for a multipolar world order is based on this. And the present world order is greeted with dissatisfaction because Russia has no appropriate place in it. Criticism of the U.S. is correspondingly militant.

3 The following is partly based on: M. Dembinski, H.-J. Schmidt, B. Schoch, H.-J. Spanger, “After the Caucasian War: Engaging, not Containing Russia,” PRIF Reports, Frankfurt/M, No. 86, 2008. 4 V. Putin, Speech and the Following Discussion at the Munich Conference on Security Policy, 10 February, 2007, available at [http://archive.kremlin.ru/eng/speeches/2007/02/10/0138_type82912type82914type82917type84779_118123. shtml]. 5 This was ascertained by a critic some time ago, who called for the West “to calm down and take Russia for what it is: a major outside player that is neither an eternal foe nor an automatic friend” (D.B. Trenin, “Russia Leaves the West,” Foreign Affairs, Vol. 85, No. 4, 2006, p. 95). 6 S. Lavrov, “Russia and the World in the 21st Century,” Russia in Global Affairs, Vol. 6, No. 3, 2008, p. 10. 7 V. Putin, Transcript of Annual Big Press Conference, 14 February, 2008, available at [http://archive.kremlin.ru/ eng/speeches/2008/02/14/1011_type82915_160266.shtml]. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 51 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

However, Russia as an autonomous gravitational center in a multipolar cosmos is still ham- pered by capabilities not exactly commensurate with its ambitions: even in the narrow orbit of the CIS its gravitational force remains so small that no formative power in international politics can be derived from it.8 Thus the Caucasian War provided the opportunity to achieve great effect at a relatively small price. And this signal was not only sent to the immediate neighborhood but equally beyond—to the West and its efforts to draw individual CIS member states into its own orbit, in particular into NATO. Yet the Caucasian War also lent new meaning to the Russian postulates of equality as Moscow practiced and declared the very same it had been reproaching Washington for: an explicit declaration of its own sphere of influence and an implicit departure from its previous understanding of international law. As justification of its military intervention Moscow simply adopted the Western discourse: “humanitarian intervention” and “responsibility to protect,” which it had previously denounced as a flagrant violation of international law and flimsy legitimizing formulae for geostrategically motivated expansion by the West.9 And with regard to unilateral recognition it enacted the right to “national self-determination” and referred to a peculiar (Western) role model it had previously completely rejected: “We have taken the same course of action as other countries took with regard to Kosovo,”10 embellished with the astounding finding that, “according to international law, a new state becomes a subject of law, as the lawyers say, from the moment it gains recognition from at least one other country.”11 In contrast to Western practice in Kosovo, however, Russia in 2008 did not make the slightest effort to enlist the aid of the U.N. in at least lending some legitimacy to its violation of both principles. So far, however, Moscow has also shied away from applying this precedence to Nagorno- Karabakh as well. Hence, it will hardly be possible in the future to dedicate Russia to the power of justice in opposition to the alleged Western justice of power. It sounded hollow when Putin, on the occasion of Vic- tory Day 9 May, 2012, reiterated: “I stress today that strict respect for international law, state sovereignty and the independent choice of each people is one of the crucial guarantees for ensuring that the tragedy of World War II never happens again. Russia is consistent in its policy of strengthening secu-

8 Moscow still shies away from being banded together with the “axis of evil” and the likes. This is true despite the fact that Medvedev, in the wake of the 2008 war, indicated that “any” state which strives for friendly relations with Russia will receive a “friendly response” (“Transcript of the Meeting with the Participants in the International Club Valdai,” 12 September, 2008, GUM Exhibition Center, Moscow, available at [www.kremlin.ru]). In this way, adopting zero-sum logic, Moscow is cultivating relations with governments which like Venezuela, Syria, and Iran are targeted by the U.S. Based on the conviction “that the future world order will be based on competitive interactions of principal centers of power,” Russia is clearly focusing its interests on Eurasia: “Russia would like to use its assets in remote parts of the world, such as Latin America and Africa, to strengthen its positions in the Eurasian space. For example, it appears that Moscow’s interest in cooperation with non-conformist states of Latin America—Venezuela, Nicaragua, Bolivia and Ecuador—grew markedly as the United States increased its presence in the post-Soviet space” (F. Lukya- nov, “Rethinking Russia: Russian Dilemmas in a Multipolar World,” International Affairs, Vol. 63, No. 2, Spring/ Summer 2010, pp. 19-32). 9 This has also been systematically reinforced by the “five principles” announced by the president on 31 August, 2008. These reiterated not only Russia’s multipolar leanings (“The world should be multipolar. A single-pole world is unacceptable. Domination is something we cannot allow. We cannot accept a world order in which one country makes all the decisions, even as serious and influential a country as the United States of America”). More specifically it confirmed Moscow’s determination to protect its “citizens” wherever they happen to live (“Protecting the lives and dignity of our citizens, wherever they may be, is an unquestionable priority for our country”) and it admitted the quest for a special sphere of interest (“As is the case for other countries, there are regions in which Russia has privileged interests. These regions are home to countries with which we share special historical relations and are bound together as friends and good neighbors”) (see: Interview given by Dmitry Medvedev to television channels Channel One, Rossia, NTV, 31 August, 2008, available at [www.kremlin.ru]). The final item, as Medvedev clarified on request, is not limited to neighboring states alone, because “our priorities do not end there.” 10 See: President of Russia Dmitry Medvedev. Interview with BBC Television, 26 August, 2008, available at [http:// archive.kremlin.ru/eng/text/speeches/2008/08/26/2131_type82915type82916_205790.shtml]. 11 Interview given by Dmitry Medvedev to television channels Channel One, Rossia, NTV, 31 August, 2008. 52 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION rity in the world.”12 In light of this “consistency,” it is not by chance that none of Moscow’s CIS allies wanted to follow Russian recognition. They find themselves in a similarly inferior position relative to Russia as Russia finds itself in relative to the U.S., and they view themselves, therefore, as just as dependent on the promised protection offered by the standards of international law. In principle Moscow adheres to a foreign policy that pursues classic realism. Thus the premise applies that one is simply and quite pragmatically pursuing one’s own interests contrary to the “ide- ologization of the world” cultivated by the West with its export of democracy. Yet ideological formu- lations that point to different and even competing “development models” are still around. In mid- 2008, Foreign Minister Lavrov even placed this competition in a world historical context commensurate with Russia’s size: according to this, the end of the Cold War marked the end of a 400-500-year- long period in world history that had been dominated by European civilization or the “historical West.” Now in contrast an alternative existed, that either the world adopted Western values and became a “Greater West” (much in the sense of the “end of history”), or—the Russian view—competition would become “truly global,” including also “values and development models”. In July 2008 this became part of Russia’s official foreign policy concept.13 The model Russia espouses, however, is not yet clear. This does not necessarily come as a surprise since the de-ideologized competition between political concepts is meant to serve the purpose of multipolarity in the first place. This entails recognizing the “multiformity of the contemporary world” without imposing “borrowed value systems.” And irrespective of substance it also entails rejecting the “different, unifying approach” attached to the West, which “would lead to interventionism—a strategy that is hardly realistic, since its effectiveness can be achieved only in a transition toward global imperial construction.”14 Moscow’s response to the Color Revolutions, which it ascribes to this kind of mindset and to Western complaints about the growing value gap, consequently focuses entirely on the geostrategic elements. Putin thus keeps complaining that, in the “ever more complicated and tougher” world, “lofty slogans of freedom and an open society are sometimes used to destroy the sovereignty of a country or an entire region” that Russia regarded as a particularly important target because of its “God-given” resources.15 Or he denounced elections as an instrument of the West’s democratization policy, a new form of “colonialism” designed to strip Russia bare: “Today, ‘civilization’ has been replaced by democratization, but the aim is the same—to ensure unilateral gains and one’s own advantage, and to pursue one’s own interests.”16 This gulf between Russia and the West has not widened since 2008. But it has by no means disappeared. Concentrating on common interests—the rationale of the reset policy between Obama and Medvedev—has only let a little steam out of the hotpot. Here wrangling over zones of influence, in particular over Russia’s self-declared backyard, is probably the hottest issue.

The U.S.Indecisive but Vocal

In Washington, the Russian intervention of 8 August, 2008 was felt in many ways to be a “turning point” in bilateral relations. Following the election year, however, it took a turn in a direction

12 Speech at the Military Parade Celebrating the 67th Anniversary of Victory in the Great Patriotic War, 9 May, 2012, available at [http://eng.kremlin.ru/news/3780]. 13 See: S. Lavrov, op. cit., p. 8; The Foreign Policy Concept of the Russian Federation, Approved by Dmitry A. Med- vedev, President of the Russian Federation, on 12 July, 2008, available at [www.mid.ru]. 14 S. Lavrov, op. cit., p. 11. 15 V.V. Putin, Speech at the Expanded Meeting of the State Council on Russia’s Development Strategy through to 2020, 8 February, 2008, available at [www.kremlin.ru]. 16 Putin’s Address to the Federal Assembly at the end of April 2007, available at [www.kremlin.ru]. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 53 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION unforeseen by the pundits of the Bush administration. And only in one respect did the outgoing and incoming administrations concur: the Caucasian War elevated Russia’s status in the U.S. political discourse. In the American debate on the causes and consequences of the Caucasian War, two broad positions can be distinguished. The first is represented by neo-conservatives and defenders of U.S. su- premacy, i.e., the most vocal quarters of the Bush administration, as well as by liberal intervention- ists, i.e., prominent representatives of the Obama administration. In their view, the Kremlin bore sole responsibility for the war. Russian aggression was seen as the direct expression of its strategic objective to roll back Western influence in the former Soviet Union.17 “Russia’s actions in Georgia constituted just one more front of a comprehensive campaign to reassert Russian dominance in the region through both coercive and cooperative means,” stated Michael McFaul, currently U.S. Ambassador to Russia and prior to this Barack Obama’s Senior Advisor on Russia in the National Security Council.18 This assessment was shared by many Republican senators and representatives who perceived a direct line from Budapest 1956 to Prague 1968 and to Gori 200819 and warned against a domino effect, which could affect the Ukraine and the Baltic states next.20 The Bush administration essentially adopted this view. Its leading members blamed the Russian strategy for intimidating Georgia as a motive for the outbreak of the war,21 and stressed the risk of further attempts by Moscow to apply pressure on its “near abroad.”22 Segments of the Bush administration around his vice president even contemplated dispatching the U.S. navy.23 The second position was adopted by representatives of the liberal spectrum, pragmatic realists, and the few supporters of an isolationist course who jointly back a purely interest-based approach in dealing with Russia. The latter see the war as a corroboration of their long-standing criticism of Bush’s costly world policy which involved the risk of dragging the U.S. unnecessarily into the disputes of others. Instead of blaming Russian ambitions, they stressed the danger of aligning America with unreliable foreign powers, as former presidential candidate Patrick J. Buchanan bluntly put it: “If the Russia-Georgia war proves nothing else, it is the insanity of giving erratic hotheads in volatile nations the power to drag the United States into war.”24 Proponents of the liberal camp and the pragmatic-realist approach had for quite some time argued for a policy toward Russia based on common interests. They held American negligence of Rus- sia’s concerns and interests at least partly responsible for the deterioration in relations between Amer- ica and Russia.25 Thus Samantha Power, advisor in Obama’s election campaign for a while, de-

17 Cf. R.D. Asmus, R. Holbrooke, “Black Sea Watershed,” Washington Post, 11 August, 2008, A15; R. Kagan, “Putin Makes his Move,” Washington Post, 11 August, 2008, A15. 18 See: M. McFaul, Prepared Statement, U.S. Congress House, Committee on Foreign Affairs, Hearings: U.S.-Rus- sia Relations in the Aftermath of the Georgia Crises, 9 September, 2008, p. 2. Going one step further, Zbigniew Brzezin- ski compared Russian policy out of hand with that of Stalin and Hitler (see: Zb. Brzezinski, “Russlands Vorgehen ähnelt dem Hitlers,” Welt Online, 11 August, 2008). 19 Cf. J. McCain, “We are all Georgians,” Wall Street Journal, 14 August, 2008 (see also: Th. McCotter, “Russia’s Invasion of Georgia. What Should the United States do about Moscow’s Attack against its Neighbor,” Washington Times, 11 August, 2008). McCain’s intervention in favor of Saakashvili appears in a dubious light however, since his security policy advisor Randy Scheunemann with his lobbying firm “Orion Strategies” was rewarded handsomely by Georgia for representing the country’s interests in Washington (cf. M. Mosk, J. Birnbaum, “While Aide Advised McCain, His Firm Lobbied for Georgia,” Washington Post, 13 August, 2008, A3). 20 See: L. Graham, J. Lieberman, “Russia’s Aggression is a Challenge to World Order,” Wall Street Journal, 27 August, 2008. 21 See: D. Fried, The Current Situation in Georgia and Implications for U.S. Policy, Testimony before the Senate Committee on Armed Services, Washington D.C., 9 September, 2008. 22 See: R. Cheney, “Vice President”s Remarks at the Ambrosetti Forum,” 6 September, 2008, available at [www. whitehouse.gov]. 23 See: R.D. Asmus, A Little War that Shook the World, Palgrave, New York, 2010, pp. 186-187. 24 P.J. Buchanan, “Who Started Cold War II,” Medium, 19 August, 2008 (see also: T.G. Carpenter, “What Russia Wants,” The American Conservative, 22 September, 2008). 25 Cf. St.L. Myers, “No Cold War, but Big Chill over Georgia,” New York Times, 16 August, 2008. 54 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION nounced the long list of Russia’s humiliations, beginning with American triumphalism over the Cold War victory, through NATO expansion, to the recognition of Kosovo.26 Francis Fukuyama passed a similar judgment: “Diplomacy, such as it was, consisted of persuading Russia to accept all of the items on our list and telling them their fears and concerns were groundless.”27 From this perspective two aspects of Bush’s policy toward the Caucasus region appeared particularly problematic. On the one hand, there was the unbalanced assessment of democratic qualities. While independent observers gave an equally critical assessment of both Georgia’s and Russia’s democratic credentials, the Bush administration castigated a return to authoritarian rule in Russia while lauding the Georgian president as a beacon of democracy in the region.28 And on the other hand, there was an overestimation of American power, which immunized the Bush administration against the possibility that Russia could challenge America at all. This feeling of unparalleled strength also led to the uncritical support of Georgia and thus the “irresponsible encouragement of the Georgian president” in his actions.29 The Caucasian War thus called into question fundamental assumptions in America’s policy toward Russia and the CIS. For the first time, NATO expansion encountered resolute Russian resistance and moreover the prospect of NATO membership obviously did not allow the U.S. to exert any moderating influence on the Georgian leadership and did not lead to responsible behavior. This experience not only cast doubt on the assumption of a virtuous circle, the ultimate fate of the Color Revolution governments also called into question the whole idea of a secular trend toward democracy. And last but not least, the war demonstrated that Russia’s interests could no longer safely be ignored. Instead, Moscow demonstrated that it possesses the means to react to challenges in its vicin- ity and that it is ready to lend emphasis to its “red lines.”

The European UnionQuarrelling and Acting

Whereas for Washington, relations with Russia and beyond are one problem among many, for the European Union, they are one of the most important tasks of European politics. This task, as the Caucasian War painfully demonstrated, is also most difficult to solve. On the one hand, developing a constructive relationship with Russia has become more difficult due to Russia itself, which has also moved away from the West following Putin’s domestic political Thermidor. While on the other hand, it is due to fundamental differences within the EU concerning Russia and the nature of the Russian regime, as well as differences concerning relations with other states in the region such as Ukraine or Georgia. The Caucasian War further intensified these opposing views. The loudest criticism of Russian action in the Caucasus came from some of the newcomers that former French president Jacques

26 See: S. Power, “A Question of Honor,” Time, 14 August, 2008. 27 F. Fukuyama, “Russia and a New Democratic Realism,” Financial Times, 3 September, 2008. 28 See: P.J. Saunders, “Georgia’s Recklessness,” Washington Post, 15 August, 2008, A21; idem, “Lessons of the Russian-Georgian War and its Implications for U.S. Policy, Testimony before the U.S. Commission on Security and Co- operation in Europe,” 10 September, 2008, available at [www.nixoncenter.org/georgiatestimony.doc]. 29 D.K. Simes, “Talking Sense on South Ossetia,” The National Interest, 8 November, 2008 (see also: A. Lieven, “The West Shares the Blame for Georgia,” Financial Times, 14 August, 2008). Anthony Cordesman of the Washington Center for Strategic and International Studies takes the same view: “...we almost certainly played an inadvertent role in convincing a ‘rabbit’ that it could provoke a ‘bear.’ If anything, we are lucky that the ‘bear’ did not eat the ‘rabbit’” (A. Cordesman, “The Georgia War and the Century of ‘Real Power,’ Commentary,” CSIS, Washington D.C.). Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 55 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Chirac once preferred to keep quiet. While Hungary, Slovenia, and the Slovak Republic were as ret- icent as Bulgaria and Rumania, exceedingly harsh tones came from Poland, the Baltic States, and parts of the political class of the Czech Republic. According to the Polish President, “Russia has yet again shown its true face.” Without consulting on the European level, he called upon his colleagues from the Baltic States to undertake a journey of solidarity to Tbilisi even while the fighting was still going on.30 In their view, the war threw a spotlight on the dangers of Russian revisionism, which directly threatened all countries of the former Warsaw Pact. Their reading of NATO expansion markedly differed from the post-Bush insights in Washington: through its decision not to offer Georgia any concrete membership perspective, NATO had even encouraged Russia in its military policy of spheres of influence. Against the backdrop of this analysis Poland and the Baltic States declined to return to business as usual after the war.31 Germany and France assumed the opposite standpoint, supported by Italy and Spain. In Germa- ny, a cross-party consensus emerged according to which both Russia and Georgia were to blame for the outbreak of the war. Isolation of Russia was to be avoided, and the prospect of its institutional inclusion was to be maintained.32 In this way Berlin found itself aligned with the French government, whose policy was dictated by the slogan, “No to sanctions, yes to dialog.”33 These discrepancies in the evaluation of the causes of the war and the question of appropriate reactions reflect fundamental differences among the European states in their policy toward Russia and, by extension, toward the CIS. Hence, forging a common line has proven a true challenge, only partially eased by the Russian-Polish realignment after the Smolensk air crash in 2010. During the crisis, however, the EU proved capable of action, although only due to a very favorable combination of factors. One was the French EU Presidency, which succeeded in negotiating a ceasefire and creating the preconditions for a Russian withdrawal of troops from core Georgia. Fur- thermore, Nicolas Sarkozy arranged the deployment of the European EUMM observer mission and convinced the conflicting parties to commit to a political process aimed first of all at the settlement of practical issues. Never before had the European Union demonstrated such a presence in the Caucasus region, where it previously preferred to work around the conflicts and has now decided to take at least one conflict head on. So far, however, the bold start has not achieved much. The European capacity for action in a crisis was encouraged by three more factors. n Firstly, despite the differences there was some European common ground. The EU was united over the cornerstones of a program for overcoming the crisis: Russia must withdraw its troops, the independence of South Ossetia and Abkhazia would not be recognized, and the resolution of the Bucharest NATO summit to eventually admit Georgia and Ukraine would not be revoked, pro forma at least. Finally the EU would intensify its commitment to the independence and democratic orientation of the countries in its neighborhood program. n Secondly, and more importantly, Nicolas Sarkozy made clever use of the institutional opportunities of EU presidency so as to place the Union in a common position. He convinced the EU foreign ministers to acknowledge his negotiated Six-Point Agreement and shroud this document in a European mantle.34 The European Council upheld this line of action at its extraordinary meeting on 1 September, 2008.

30 See: Das Parlament, No. 35/36, 25 August-1 September, 2008, p. 17. 31 See: V. Pop, “EU-Russia Talks Likely to Resume in November,” EUobserver, 22 October, 2008, p. 3. 32 See: A. Schockenhoff, “Russlands Wahl: Partner oder Widerpart,” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 16 Septem- ber, 2008, p. 10. 33 S. Besancenot, “EU-Krisenmanagement zwischen Atlantizismus und Pragmatismus—Die Sicht aus Paris,” in: Krieg um Südossetien. Analysen und Perspektiven aus Hauptstädten der Welt, ed. By P. Bungarten, M. Buhbe, Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, Berlin, 2008, S. 25-28. 34 See: Council of the European Union: Press Release, Extraordinary Meeting General Affairs and External Rela- tions, 12453/08, Brussels, 13 August, 2008. 56 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

n Thirdly, this capacity for action was achieved thanks to compromises with the group of EU countries critical of Russia. The first concession was not very far-reaching: negotiations over the new EU-Russia Partnership Agreement were suspended, and their resumption made con- ditional on keeping the Six-Point Plan. However, at the EU-Russia summit on 14 November the resumption of talks was announced, although according to the EU reading the requirements of Russia’s critics had not been met. Under dispute to date are the interpretations of the provision reinforced by the European Council’s resolution of 1 September that the Russian troops should withdraw “to the positions held prior to 7 August.”35 The member states critical of Russia understand this to include the 7,000 soldiers that Russia has stationed in South Ossetia and Abkhazia. In contrast, member states favoring a rapprochement with Russia do not insist on such a withdrawal. After discussions with Georgia and Russia about the implementation of the Six-Point Plan, an EU delegation under the leadership of Council President Sarkozy confirmed the withdrawal of Russian troops from “core Georgia,” but said nothing about the additional troops in both rebel provinces.36 The second compromise concerned the attitude toward neighboring countries, in particular Ukraine. Here a gradual change in direction was agreed upon. While before the war the EU was care- ful to run relations with the neighboring countries in parallel to those with Russia, later it started to prioritize relations with Ukraine and others, obviously for purely geostrategic reasons. For instance, the EU enhanced the Eastern Partnership, originally dating back to a Swedish-Polish initiative of the summer of 2008, thereby placing a new main emphasis on its neighborhood policy. It furthermore offered Ukraine an Association Agreement, whereas before the war talk was merely of replacing the existing Partnership and Cooperation Agreement signed in 1998 with a New Enhanced Agreement. The agreement, however, fell far short of the demands by Poland and the Baltic States to open up the prospect of membership to Ukraine. And finally, the EU started a—yet short-lived—rapprochement with Belarus. This process was also accelerated by the war, and here too Poland and Lithuania were the driving forces.37

Conclusion

The 2008 August war and the subsequent Russian-sponsored secession of South Ossetia and Abkhazia has laid two of the three conflicts in the Southern Caucasus to rest, at least for the time being. Does that mean anything for the third conflict in and around Nagorno-Karabakh? Probably not. More than 30,000 casualties and much deeper running memories and claims have made this conflict incomparably more entrenched in both societies. Moreover, it is a territorial conflict between two states of comparable size and stature. And the foreign powers have neither particularly pronounced stakes in the conflict, nor do they necessarily find themselves on the opposite sides of the warring parties: rather, since 1997 France, Russia, and the U.S. have jointly chaired the OSCE Minsk Group. Incidentally, these three were the most active foreign powers—and to some extent even parties—in the 2008 war, and Russia, for obvious reasons, was subsequently the most active in getting the Karabakh peace process up and running again along the lines of the 2007 Madrid Principles. Hence, in this conflict, the competition among these powers is not about their position, rather about the most promising mediation. And their competition does not serve broader objec-

35 Council of the European Union, Conclusions of the Chair: Extraordinary Meeting of the European Council of 1 September, 2008 in Brussels, 12594/08, Brussels, 6 October, 2008. 36 Cf. Council of the European Union, Council Conclusion of Georgia/Russia. 2897th External Relations Council Meeting, Luxemburg, 13 October, 2008. 37 See: Ph. Runner, “EU States Still Keen to Relax Belarus Sanctions,” EUobserver, 30 September, 2008. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 57 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION tives, but remains within the scope of the conflict itself. In other words, it is less about furthering their own much broader interests as it is about meeting their much narrower normative duty. This obviously is not enough of a driving force.

Grigory TROFIMCHUK

First Vice President, Center for Modeling Strategic Development; Member of the Expert Azerbaijan-Russian Group at Moscow State University; Expert at the Center for National Policy, Moscow State University; Expert at the REX Information Agency (Moscow, the Russian Federation)

THE “VULTURES” OF THE CAUCASIAN PEOPLES

Abstract

he author looks at a set of myths re- out that the myths of European identity and T lated to the civilizational, ideological, Euroatlantic orientation as the tempting and religious and financial threats the peo- highly desirable developments are the most ples of the Caucasus are facing and points dangerous of all.

Introduction

In the new emerging world, the Caucasus, a unique geopolitical entity, needs a survival model best suited to the interests of its peoples. Today, the region attracts numerous threats best described as vultures that have flown in together to feast on one more prey. Unable to find a common platform, the three Transcaucasian states (Georgia, Azerbaijan, and Armenia) cannot rebuff their attacks; in the absence of ideological landmarks, alien models look tempting; this means that the Caucasus has little chance of remaining united. Independence is the key to Caucasian survival and Caucasian longevity.

The Caucasus is the main Eurasian knot, a so far integrated national platform between Europe and Asia. Strange as it may seem, the region, unaware of its own importance, has not yet plumbed the depths of its unique geographic location. 58 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Its countries prefer to describe themselves as European even though the logic of geography describes them, at best, as West Asian. Geographic disorientation gives birth to absurdities: some of the Central Asian countries, up to the Chinese borders, insist on being parts of Europe. In this case, Africa is found in America, while the Antarctic is Australia. This strange desire to fit a “better” (as compared with one’s own) mentality into a context where the center of world politics and trade is shifting to the Asia Pacific Region (that is, from the West to the East) means that the Caucasus as a whole and each of its countries individually refuse to accept Asia as a civilized part of the world with a future; they have no clear ideas about the balance of power in the future world and, therefore, cannot aspire to find their place in it. Disorientation, the blame for which lies on the region, is a direct consequence of its withdrawal from the Russian gravitation zone in the hope of landing in a different “new brave world.” My discussion of the Caucasian strategies will not include Russia in order to avoid the old overused banalities and scrutinize the region and its problems in their pure form. The Caucasus should learn an objective truth: the West remains polite when dealing with it as long as there is Russia as a coun- terbalance.

So far, the Caucasus (or the Transcaucasia, to be more exact) can be described in the geographic and political space as a benign natural link between the Caspian and the Black Sea. So far, Georgia, Azerbaijan, and Armenia are described, from force of habit, as the Southern Caucasus; in the West, this region is more and more frequently referred to as the Central Caucasus, as a geopolitical center loaded with responsibilities and facing the threat of becoming an epicenter of future catastrophes. World history and the lives of individual countries are following the peace/war cycle. In the case of the Caucasus, this means that despite the long period of peace (nearly 100 years), which is still going on by inertia, there are signs that this period is coming to an end. The Caucasus as a single whole contains three sovereign states squeezed into its very limited space; the population density is high, as is the number of conflict zones. The Caucasian peoples should spare no efforts to preserve their unity and the living soul of their region. So far, however, they are satisfied with the role of a banal “bridge,” a transit territory; in other words, a battlefield on which the West will clash with the East and the U.S. will confront China. Several centuries ago, the region was divided into south and north; tomorrow it might find itself cut into west and east. To avoid another bout of catastrophes and calamities, the Caucasus must answer (without listening to promptings from the north, south, east, or west) several difficult questions on which the future life (or death) of its nations depends: n Will the Caucasus become another global victim when the Iranian file has been closed? n Will the appearance of a “new Iran” defrost the Caucasian conflicts and formulate claims with respect to all the Caucasian genocides (Azeri, Armenian, South Ossetian, etc.)? n How unpredictable might a new player that takes Iran’s place in the Caspian be? n Will new sovereign states appear, Southern Azerbaijan, Artsakh, and others, which will change the geography of the entire Caucasus? These questions deal with one issue only; there are many other just as important issues, such as the mounting Chinese influence and the religious factor, which comes into play when and where it is needed. The Caucasian countries should accept concerted tactics (at least in relation to Tehran): time is running short, which means that the three capitals can no longer indulge in deliberations and mul- tivectoral policies. Recently, several Iranian spies were arrested in Azerbaijan; this means that one out Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 59 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION of the five Caspian states has moved toward becoming a new extra-regional player strong enough to disdain the claims of the others. In the last two decades, not one of the international alliances (on which the Caucasian countries pinned their hopes) has developed into an efficient structure. I have in mind GUAM, Eastern Partner- ship, the Caucasian Platform, the Georgia-Azerbaijan Confederation, etc. This should not be taken to mean that these alliances were malignant, harmful, or absolutely out of the Caucasian context, or that the Caucasian states were not ready for independence. It certainly means that they are not welcome anywhere and that no one is prepared to support them in earnest. This is the market for you: nothing is gratis any longer. Indeed, if the old structures proved inefficient, there is little hope that alliances to which the Caucasian countries might be invited tomorrow would be viable, especially against the background of the pressure being put on Iran. The administrative structures that have been suggested—the United States of the Caucasus, the Caucasian Federation, or the Fortress of the Caucasus (as if it were under attack)—look neither opti- mal, nor harmonious, nor natural. Such states, unions, federations, and cantons will stir up unprofuc- tive memories. They have one thing in common: any of them can be easily destroyed by temporary and insignificant financial aid from the outside to even one of the three main South Caucasian units: Georgia, Azerbaijan, or Armenia. This is what is being done today. So, these countries’ inability to come to an agreement among themselves is their main, vitally important, problem. On the other hand, today the Caucasus has found itself in a much better position from which it can watch the fascinating decline of Greece, Rumania, Hungary, and Slovakia; it can see that the leaders of “old Europe” are not prepared to share their riches with their new friends, even though they have already devoured Iraq and Libya brimming with energy resources. Some fifteen years ago, the Caucasus would have been determined to join Europe to become another “Greece” with graver problems and numerous conflicts. Today, there is a clear understanding that the delay has probably saved the Caucasus and its nations: their own national dress, albeit far removed from European haute cou- ture, is much closer to the heart. The region has moved dangerously close to disintegration not only because it has failed to find its bearings in the geographical context—its ideology and mentality are far removed from the democratic standards adopted in Europe. In fact, these standards are ill fitted to the Caucasian realities even though the three countries are moving toward “high standards,” which, however, might prove to be impossibly high. It is common knowledge that the political elites in any of the Caucasian countries will extend, in one way or another, their term in power, more often than not in the non-European uncivilized form of ruling dynasties, groups, families, and clans. The Caucasus is not yet ready to accept the set of European social and public values in their totality (up to and including the rights of homosexuals): gay pride parades in any of the Caucasian capitals strain the imagination. Taken together, these and other basic elements blend into a very specific Caucasian mentality which, so far, strikes a discordant note from time to time when talking to the West; the Caucasus has no reason to demonstrate firmness and uphold its opinions. With European integration unfolding on a greater scale, this set of values will automatically become a landmine. The Caucasus belongs to the East rather than to the West; it is part of Asia to a much greater extent than it is part of Europe. The rest depends on whether these truths are finally recognized and accepted. An edifice thus erected will either rest on lies and delusions or on a foundation of well-justified, firm, and promising convictions.

III

This means that the Caucasus needs an acceptable model of joint survival unknown anywhere else in the world; it cannot be copied or stolen as a high-tech gimmick. It should rest on independence, 60 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION which has nothing to do with notorious Caucasian neutrality, a fairly popular yet fairly vague idea. Caucasian independence is part and parcel of the spirit of the Caucasian peoples, their historical experience and political instinct. The time has come to stop looking elsewhere for dubious advice and rely on time-tested formulas.

Conclusion

Unfortunately, the Caucasus is still unable to set itself up for being a subject rather than an object, becoming a center rather than a periphery. It is not a bridge, a pipe, or a cog; it should abandon its plans to become a so-called state or, broadly speaking, canton. It can and should become an inte- gral and self-sufficient Eastern Market. The familiar, artless, and romantic myths of the Caucasian peoples belong to the past; today the region is under attack. Each of the four black vultures—civilizational, ideological, religious, and financial—can kill the Caucasus; together they can deprive the region of its riches and advantages—its culture, strategic location, nature, and resources—as well as its people, the region’s main asset. Its people are unique, but too credulous. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 61 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

GEO-ECONOMICS

Vladimer PAPAVA

D.Sc. (Econ.), Professor, Senior Fellow of the Georgian Foundation for Strategic and International Studies, Principal Research Fellow at the Paata Gugushvili Institute of Economics, Ivane Javakhishvili Tbilisi State University (Tbilisi, Georgia).

ECONOMIC COMPONENT OF THE RUSSIAN-GEORGIAN CONFLICT

Abstract

his article analyzes the experience in spite of this flare-up in Russian-Geor- T Georgia and Russia have accumulat- gian relations, trade and economic contacts ed in their economic relations. It fo- between Russia and Georgia have never cuses in particular on the evolution of Rus- been interrupted. The experience gained at sian-Georgian economic ties in the context the talks between Russia and Georgia on of the gradual aggravation of relations in the former’s accession to the WTO and the general between Moscow and Tbilisi and positive outcome of these talks give every delineates the trend toward drawing Geor- reason to hope that Moscow and Tbilisi can gia into Russia’s Liberal Empire network. eventually find and launch real mechanisms The author draws attention to the fact that to resolve the accrued problems.

Introduction

The development of relations among the former Soviet republics has not received sufficient attention during the post-Soviet period. It stands to reason that, as the Soviet Union’s successor, Rus- sia’s relations with each of the former Soviet republics deserve special analysis. 62 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Before the Russian-Georgian war of August 2008,1 study of the relations among these countries was more spontaneous than systematic. And, unfortunately, post-Soviet economic relations among them have received even less attention,2 although after the war the first joint publications on this topic appeared on the initiative of international organizations.3 Unfortunately, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, political relations between Georgia and Russia have mainly been characterized by the term “conflict.” At the present time, this conflict is far from being resolved. Despite the fact that diplomatic relations between the two countries have broken down in the post-war period, economic relations continue unabated. This situation, where there are no official interstate relations between Russia and Georgia while economic relations seem to be developing under their own steam, requires in-depth study. The aim of this article is to identify the main problems that have recently been hindering and continue to prevent the normal development of economic relations between Russia and Georgia.

“Economic Divorce”

Within the framework of the Soviet Union, economic relations between Georgia and Russia were akin to interregional relations within the single national economic complex of the command economy. It is important to note that due to its relatively small size, Georgia was included in the Tran- scaucasian economic district in the Soviet economic zoning system, as were other relative small So- viet republics of the Caucasus (Azerbaijan and Armenia).4 The disintegration of the Soviet Union also meant the collapse of the command economy, which naturally led to a gradual breakdown in the customary industrial communications among individual enterprises of what is now the post-Soviet expanse. This trend occurred at an accelerated rate in Geor- gia. In particular, at the beginning of the 1990s, Georgia’s first post-Soviet leadership declared an economic blockade on Russia, which was accomplished by closing the railway junction in the town of Samtredia. This resulted in the industrial communications between Georgian and Russian enterprises (and not only between them) being broken earlier and faster than in other post-Soviet republics, whereby it was Georgia that suffered economically from this.5 So it was the erroneous steps taken by the Georgian leadership that caused the first economic damage to Georgian-Russian relations. How- ever, it is important to emphasize that Russia nevertheless continued to be Georgia’s top trade partner. While remaining in the ruble zone, in the fall of 1992, Georgia (like other former Soviet republics) was unable to receive Soviet ruble banknotes (Russian rubles were not introduced to replace Soviet rubles until the summer of 1993),6 which was Russia’s reaction to the central banks of some former Soviet republics (including Georgia) transferring nonexistent money to Russia, that is, remittances unbacked by corresponding funds. This also accelerated Georgia’s introduction of coupons of the National Bank.7

1 See: The Guns of August 2008: Russia’s War in Georgia, ed. by S.E. Cornell, S.F. Starr, M.E. Sharpe, Armonk, 2009. 2 An exception is the following article: I.M. Ivanov, “Ekonomicheskie otnosheniia Rossii i Gruzii,” in: Gruziia: problemy i perspektivy razvitiia, ed. by E.M. Kozhokin, Vol. 1, Russian Institute of Strategic Studies, Moscow, 2001. 3 See: Russia and Georgia: The Ways out of the Crisis, ed. by G. Khutsishvili, T. Gogueliani, ICCN, Tbilisi, 2010; Russia and Georgia: Searching the Way Out, ed. by K. Gogolashvili, GFSIS, Tbilisi, 2011. 4 See, for example: Zakavkazskiy ekonomicheskiy rayon. Ekonomiko-geograficheskiy ocherk, ed. by A.A. Adames- cu, E.D. Silaev, Nauka Publishers, Moscow, 1973. 5 See: V. Papava, T. Beridze, “Problemy reformirovaniia gruzinskoy ekonomiki,” Rossiyskiy ekonomicheskiy zhurnal, No. 3, 1994. 6 See: R. Gotsiridze, “National Currency of Georgia—The Lari,” in: Central Eurasia: National Currencies, ed. by E.M. Ismailov, CA&CC Press, Stockholm, 2008, pp. 163-166. 7 See: Ibid., p. 166. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 63 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Almost immediately after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) was established, to which all the former Soviet republics, apart from the Baltic states, belonged. Georgia joined the CIS later, at the end of 1993, after the Georgian armed forces had to leave Abkhazia in the struggle over the country’s territorial integrity which produced a multi-thousand wave of internally displaced persons (IDPs). In the hope of regulating relations with Russia, the Georgian leadership decided to join the CIS in order to find favor with Moscow, which from the very beginning supported the separatist movements not only in Georgia, but also in other former Soviet republics.8 Despite the fact that numerous important agreements promoting the establishment of economic contacts among its members were adopted within the framework of the CIS, according to popular opinion, the Commonwealth encountered integration difficulties from the very beginning due to the striving to create integration systems on a market basis inherent in the production cooperation characterized by the relatively closed Soviet economic system.9 The mid-1990s is characterized by the fact that both countries, Georgia and Russia, were em- broiled in their own problems of making the transition to a market economy, while interstate economic relations were established on the basis of the economic interest of specific economic entities in these countries. Russia’s currency and financial crisis of August 1998 had a particularly negative effect on the Georgian economy. It also had a negative influence on the stability of the exchange rate of Georgia’s national currency, the Lari, and on its economy as a whole.10 As a result, Turkey was the only country to take precedence over Russia (and not for long) in Georgia’s external trade. This continued until 2006, that is, until Russia closed its market to Georgian wines and mineral water, as well as to all Georgian agricultural products. Special attention should be paid in Russian-Georgian relations to the Georgian parliament’s compulsory ratification of the agreement on the so-called zero option, according to which Georgia was to relinquish the assets of the former Soviet Union in exchange for restructuring its debt to Russia in keeping with a scheme proposed by the International Monetary Fund and coordinated with the Paris Club.11 Although the initialed text of this agreement said that it did not apply to the diamond fund and accounts in the former Vneshekonombank of the Soviet Union, the official text signed in 1993 no longer featured such a provision, which the Georgian side did not notice until after it was signed. Despite the numerous protests by the Georgian authorities, the Russian side refused to change anything in the signed text, and when Georgia needed to restructure its external debt to Russia, the latter demanded ratification of this agreement in the form in which it had been signed. Since restructuring the external debt was imperative, Georgia had no other alternative but to ratify the agreement on the zero option in the rendition that differed from the initialed text to the detriment of its national interests. The transportation of Azerbaijani natural resources through Georgia has always held a special place in Russian-Georgian relations. In particular, Russia thought (and unfortunately still thinks) that implementation of this project poses a threat to its national security and contradicts its interests.12 As

8 See: Crossroads and Conflict: Security and Foreign Policy in the Caucasus and Central Asia, ed. by G.K. Bert- sch, C. Craft, S.A. Jones, M. Beck, Routledge, New York, 2000; D. Lynch, Engaging Eurasia’s Separatist States. Unre- solved Conflicts and De Facto States, United States Institute of Peace Press, Washington, D.C., 2004. 9 See: R.S. Grinberg, L.Z. Zevin, et al., 10 let Sodruzhestva nezavisimykh gosudarstv: illiuzii, razocharovaniia, na- dezhdy, RAS IMEPI, Moscow, 2001; M.B. Olcott, A. Åslund, S.W. Garnett, Getting It Wrong: Regional Cooperation and the Commonwealth of Independent States, Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, Washington, D.C., 1999. 10 See: M. Kakulia, “Before and After the Introduction of the Lari: Georgian National Currency in Retrospect,” in: Central Eurasia: National Currencies, pp. 183-184. 11 See: N. Broladze, “‘Nulevoy variant’:” za i protiv,” Nezavisimaia gazeta, 17 January, 2001, available at [http:// www.ng.ru/cis/2001-01-17/5_variant.html#]. 12 See: A. Rondeli, “Pipelines and Security Dynamics in the Caucasus,” Insight Turkey, Vol. 4, No. 1, 2002. 64 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION a result, Russia was not only not interested in developing a transport corridor through Georgia and particularly in building pipelines through its territory, but also continued to use every possible way to prevent the implementation of these projects.13 Moreover, according to Russian experts, Russia is waging an energy war against several former Soviet republics, including Georgia and Azerbaijan.14

The Danger of Becoming a Captive of the Liberal Empire

A particular place in Russian foreign policy is occupied by the idea of creating a Liberal Empire, according to which Russia can and should restore its economic influence throughout the post-Soviet expanse by means of economic expansion.15 In particular, according to the intent of its architects, the Liberal Empire should be created not by means of forced armed occupation of the former Soviet republics, but by gaining possession of the basic economic facilities (by acquiring and developing assets) located in their territories.16 Armenia was the first Caucasian country to become part of the Liberal Empire fashioned by Russia. In particular, as early as the end of 2002, the Russian-Armenian agreement on Property in Exchange for Debt17 was executed, according to which Russia received enterprises from Armenia, the total cost of which proved enough to fully cover Armenia’s debt to Russia of $93 million. Later, Ar- menia’s economy essentially became totally incorporated into Russia’s Liberal Empire.18 However, the fact that Georgia and Azerbaijan are located between Russia and Armenia creates a geographical obstacle to uniting the Armenian and Russian economies into a single economic space. In order to achieve this unification, the Georgian route is much more realistic than the Azerbaijani owing to the Armenian-Azerbaijani conflict. If Georgia is successfully incorporated into the Liberal Empire, it will easier to encompass Azerbaijan in this empire system since all of its main transport and communication arteries, including the strategic pipelines, pass through Georgia. Georgia’s integration into the Liberal Empire began as early as 2003 when RAO UES bought shares and other assets of the Silk Road American Electrochemical Company which owned the Tbilisi power distributing network, thus enabling RAO UES to gain control over 75% of the country’s elec- tricity network.19 After the Rose Revolution in November 2003, Russian companies and their subsidiaries registered in third countries bought up most of the new facilities the Georgian government put up for sale

13 See, for example: S. LeVin, The Oil and the Glory: The Pursuit of Empire and Fortune on the Caspian Sea, Ran- dom House, New York, 2007; M. Tsereteli, “Beyond Georgia: Russia’s Strategic Interests in Eurasia,” Central Asia-Cau- casus Institute Analyst, 11 June, 2008, available at [http://www.cacianalyst.org/?q=node/4879]. 14 S.B. Druzhilovskiy, “K voprosu ob alternativnoy strategii Rossiyskoy Federatsii v sfere energeticheskoy politiki,” in: Sredizemnomorie-Chernomorie-Kaspiy: mezhdu Bolshoy Evropoy i Bolshim Blizhnim Vostokom, ed. by N.P. Shmelev, V.A. Huseynov, A.A. Iazkova, Granitsa Publishing House, Moscow, 2006, p. 80. 15 See: A. Chubais, “Missiia Rossii v XXI veke,” Nezavisimaia gazeta, 1 October, 2003, available at [http://www. ng.ru/printed/ideas/2003-10-01/1_mission.html]. 16 See: K. Crane, D.J. Peterson, O. Oliker, “Russian Investment in the Commonwealth of Independent States,” Eur- asian Geography and Economics, Vol. 46, No. 6, 2005. 17 See, for example: A. Zeybert, “Balans interesov Armenii i Rossii nuzhdaetsia v pereotsenke,” Delovoy ekspress (Express.AM), No. 4, 9-15 February, 2006, available at [http://www.express.am/4_06/geopolitics.html]; H. Khachatrian, “Russian Moves in Caucasus Energy and Power Sectors could have Geopolitical Impact,” Eurasia Insight, Eurasianet, 25 September, 2003, available at [http://www.eurasianet.org/departments/business/articles/eav092503.shtml]. 18 See: G. Minassian, “Armenia, a Russian Outpost in the Caucasus?,” Russie.Nei.Visions, No. 27, February 2008, p. 9, available at [http://www.ifri.org/downloads/ifri_RNV_minassian_Armenie_Russie_ANG_fevr2008.pdf]. 19 See: T. Gularidze, “Georgian Authorities, UES Chief Pledge for Cooperation,” Civil Ge., 7 August, 2003, available at [http://www.civil.ge/eng/article.php?id=4724]. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 65 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION under insufficiently transparent privatization schemes.20 The Russian Industrial Investors Holding Company was one of those typical companies that managed to acquire the main gold mine and then half of a plant producing gold alloys.21 Gazprom, the gas monopoly controlled by the Russian state, also took active steps aimed at establishing control not only over Georgia’s gas industry, but also over the only gas pipeline via which Russian gas could be pumped both to Georgia and Armenia. Only U.S. interference in the talks between the Georgian government and Gazprom prevented the sale of the pipeline to the latter.22 In 2005, Vneshtorgbank bought the controlling set of shares in the privatized United Georgian Bank—the third largest bank in Georgia.23 This bank was subsequently nationalized by the Russian government. It should be noted that in 2004, state-owned Vneshtorgbank of Russia also acquired a controlling set of shares belonging to Armsberbank of Armenia.24 These examples show that Russia’s active efforts to incorporate Georgia into the Liberal Em- pire, which began even before the Rose Revolution, significantly intensified after the revolution,25 which the Georgian leadership openly promoted.26 In the context of the real steps Russia took to envelop the Caucasus (primarily Armenia and Georgia) in the network of the Liberal Empire, the opinion that Russia has entirely lost Georgia from the economic perspective27 (or that Georgia and Armenia are of minimum economic value for Russia)28 indicates the prevalence of the political component (compared with the economic) in Moscow’s actions in Georgia.

Aggravation of Relations, or the Economy beyond Politics

Supposedly due to the low quality of Georgian wines29 and mineral water30 (although Georgia understood this as the punishment Moscow was inflicting on it for its pro-Western orientation), in

20 See: N. Gujaraidze, M. Barbakadze, K. Gujaraidze, R. Mchedlishvili, K. Kakhaberi, “Aggressive State Property Privatization Policy or “‘Georgian-Style Privatization’,” Green Alternative, OSI, Tbilisi, 2007, available at [http:// www.greenalt.org/webmill/data/file/publications/Privatizeba-Eng4.pdf]; idem, “Aggressive State Property Privatization Policy or ‘Georgian-Style Privatization’-2,” Green Alternative, OSI, Tbilisi, 2010, available at [http://www.greenalt.org/ webmill/data/file/publications/privatization_report_GA_2010(1).pdf]. 21 See: “Aktivy Madneuli pereshli k rossiyskoi gruppe ‘Promyshlennye investory’,” Alfa-Metall, 7 November, 2005, available at [http://www.alfametal.ru/?id=news_details&news_id=10505]. 22 See: J.D. Gordon, “Russia’s Foreign Policy Ace,” Paterson Review, Vol. 8, 2007, pp. 85-86, available at [http:// www.diplomatonline.com/pdf_files/npsia/Paterson%20Review%20Vol%208%202007_BYPRESS2b.pdf]. 23 See, for example: “Vneshtorgbank (VTB) Rossii priobretaet kontrolnyy paket aktsiy kommercheskogo ‘Obed- inennogo gruzinskogo banka,’” Finam.Ru, 18 January, 2005, available at [http://www.finam.ru/investments/newsma 000010201D/default.asp?fl=1]. 24 See, for example: “Vneshtorgbank priobrel kontrolnyy paket aktsii Armsberbanka,” Vedomosti, 24 March, 2004, available at [http://www.vedomosti.ru/newsline/news/2004/03/24/16606]. 25 See: V. Papava, F. Starr, “Russia’s Economic Imperialism,” Project Syndicate, 17 January, 2006, available at [http://www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/Russia-s-economic-imperialism]; V. Papava, “The Political Economy of Georgia’s Rose Revolution,” Orbis. A Journal of World Affairs, Vol. 50, No. 4, 2006, pp. 663-665. 26 See: V. Papava, “The Essence of Economic Reforms in Post-Revolution Georgia: What about the European Choice?” Georgian International Journal of Science and Technology, Vol. 1, Iss. 1, 2008, p. 3. 27 See: S. Lounev, “Central Asia and the Southern Caucasus: Geopolitical Value for Russia,” Central Asia and the Caucasus, No. 3 (39), 2006, pp. 24-25. 28 See: Ibidem. 29 See: Z. Anjaparidze, “Russia Continues to Press Georgian Wine Industry,” Eurasia Daily Monitor, The Jamestown Foundation, 20 April, 2006, available at [http://www.jamestown.org/single/?no_cache=1&tx_ttnews%5Btt_news%5D= 31602]; M. Tsereteli, “Banned in Russia: The Politics of Georgian Wine,” Central Asia-Caucasus Institute Analyst, 19 April, 2006, available at [http://www.cacianalyst.org/?q=node/3904]. 30 See: R. Parsons, “Russia/Georgia: Russia Impounds Georgian Mineral Water,” Radio Free Europe / Radio Liberty, 19 April, 2006, available at [http://www.rferl.org/featuresarticle/2006/04/e3ee1b53-6b14-4553-a05d-4aa389364dd0.html]. 66 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

2006, Russia’s chief sanitary inspector closed the Russian market to these commodities and to all Georgian agricultural products in general. This had a negative effect on the Georgian economy,31 on the one hand, while it significantly helped Georgian commodities to find access to other markets,32 on the other. Russia’s blockade on Georgia added fuel to the fire when Moscow halted air, rail, sea, road, as well as postal communication with it.33 When Moscow decided to ban the import of Georgian agricultural products into Russia, the prohibition did not extend to Abkhazia.34 Following in Russia’s footsteps, Abkhazia also banned Georgian wines and mineral water,35 although Moscow’s decision regarding Abkhazian wines was essentially different to the one it made with respect to Georgian wines.36 The tension in Russian-Georgian relations reached its peak during the Russian-Georgian war of August 2008, after which official diplomatic relations between the two countries were interrupted. The war itself, as well as Moscow’s unilateral recognition of the state independence of Abkhazia and South Ossetia that followed, cast doubt on the expediency of the CIS’s existence, which only formally recognizes the inviolability of the borders of those states belonging to it.37 After Russia’s aggression, it came as no surprise that Georgia withdrew from the CIS.38 The Russian-Georgian war made it extremely difficult to use Georgia as a transit corridor for transporting Azerbaijani energy resources. In particular, during this war, Russian aviation also bombed the pipelines passing through Georgian territory39 that were far from South Ossetia, the protection of which was supposedly the reason for the beginning of the war. The war cast doubt on the security of the transport corridor in Georgian territory through which the pipelines passed.40 There is reason to believe that one of the aims of the Russian aggression was to intensify doubts about the security of the pipelines passing through Georgia.41 Fortunately, it did not take too much time to restore trust in the transportation of energy resources through Georgia.42 Furthermore, the fact that Moscow was unable to establish control over these pipelines by military means,43 that is, completely

31 See: E. Livny, M. Ott, K. Torosyan, “Impact of Russian Sanctions on the Georgian Economy,” in: Georgia in Transition, ed. by L. King, G. Khubua, Peter Lang, Frankfurt am Main, 2009. 32 See: J. Mackedon, “Russian Economic Pressure Has Georgia Thinking About Life Outside the CIS,” Eurasianet.org, 8 May, 2006, available at [http://www.eurasianet.org/departments/business/articles/eav050906.shtml]. 33 See: “Rossiia obyavila blokadu Gruzii,” Lenta.Ru, 2 October, 2006, available at: [http://lenta.ru/news/2006/10/ 02/blockade/]. 34 See: E. Arsiukhin, “Oranzhevoe preduprezhdenie. Rossiia zapretila vvoz gruzinskikh fruktov,” Rossiyskaia gazeta, 21 December, 2005, available at [http://www.rg.ru/2005/12/21/mandariny.html]. 35 See: “Vsled za Rossiey gruzinskie vina i mineralnye vody zapretila Abkhaziia,” News.Ru, 15 May, 2006, available at [http://www.newsru.com/finance/15may2006/abhasia.html]. 36 See: A. Gordienko, “Vinno-politicheskiy obgon. ‘Buket Abkhazii’ vernetsia na rossiyskiy rynok ranshe ‘Khvanchkary’,” Nezavisimaia gazeta, 17 October, 2007, available at [http://www.ng.ru/cis/2007-10-17/6_obgon.html]. 37 See: R. Allison, “Russia Resurgent? Moscow’s Campaign to ‘Coerce Georgia to Peace,’” International Affairs, Vol. 84, No. 6, 2008, p. 1161. 38 See: “Georgia to Quit CIS,” Civil.Ge, 12 August, 2008, available at [http://www.civil.ge/eng/article.php?id=19064]; “Parliament Supports Quitting CIS,” Civil.Ge, 14 August, 2008, available at [http://www.civil.ge/eng/article.php?id=19143]. 39 See: A. Jackson, “IA Forum Interview: Vladimer Papava,” International Affairs Forum, 14 August, 2008, available at [http://ia-forum.org/Content/ViewInternalDocument.cfm?ContentID=6377]. 40 See: S.F. Jones, “Clash in the Caucasus: Georgia, Russia, and the Fate of South Ossetia,” Origins: Current Events in Historical Perspective, Vol. 2, Iss. 2, 2008, available at [http://ehistory.osu.edu/osu/origins/article.cfm?articleid=20]; J. Mouawad, “Conflict Narrows Oil Options for West,” The New York Times, 13 August, 2008, available at [http://www. nytimes.com/2008/08/14/world/europe/14oil.html]; J. Roberts, “Georgia Falls Victim to Pipeline Politics,” BBC News, 12 August, 2008, available at [http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/7557049.stm]. 41 See: P. Hassner, “One Cold War Among Many?” Survival, Vol. 50, No. 4, 2008, p. 250. 42 See: V. Socor, “Business Confidence Returning to the South Caucasus Transport Corridor,” Eurasia Daily Mon- itor, The Jamestown Foundation, Vol. 5, No. 186, 28 September, 2008, available at [http://www.jamestown.org/single/ ?no_cache=1&tx_ttnews%5Btt_news%5D=33978]. 43 See: A. Cohen, L.F. Szaszdi, “Russia’s Drive for Global Economic Power: A Challenge for the Obama Adminis- tration,” The Heritage Foundation, 30 January, 2009, Backgrounder No. 2235, available at [http://www.heritage.org/research/RussiaandEurasia/bg2235.cfm]. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 67 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION monopolize the transportation routes of energy resources from the former Soviet Union in the west- erly direction, prompted the Americans and Europeans to step up their efforts even more to find ways to develop oil and gas transportation routes as an alternative to Russian routes.44 The aggravation in relations between Georgia and Russia gave rise to the impression that there were no economic relations between these countries either. This of course is not true since Georgia “exports” manpower to Russia and Russia is one of Georgia’s main investors. In light of the narrow range of external trade operations, trade between Georgia and Russia is extremely limited at present, although it has not been entirely halted. For example, according to the official statistics, the share of Georgian exports to Russia in Georgia’s total export volume dropped from 17.8% in 2005 (that is, one year before Russia declared its ban on the import of food products from Georgia) to 2.0% in 2008, while in 2010 and 2011 it amounted to 2.2% and 1.7%, respectively.45 The same trend is also seen in the drop in the share of Russian imports to Georgia: whereas in 2005 imports from Russia to Georgia amounted to 15.4%, in 2008, this index dropped to 6.7%, while in both 2010 and 2011 it was 5.5%.46 It should be emphasized that in 2010, Russia ranked fifth in Geor- gia’s external trade turnover (after Turkey, Azerbaijan, Ukraine, and Germany), while in 2011 it ranked sixth (after Turkey, Azerbaijan, Ukraine, China, and Germany).47 It is known that many Georgian citizens, as well as ethnic Georgians who have managed to obtain Russian citizenship, live in Russia,48 and some of their earnings are sent to their relatives living in Georgia. Russia’s introduction of a visa regime with respect to Georgia, as well as the ostracism in 2006 of ethnic Georgians living in Russia (including Russian citizens),49 in addition to the development of the banking system, promoted an increase in the use of banking channels for remittances, which largely replaced the well-established system in the post-Soviet expanse of sending money to relatives through acquaintances returning home.50 Even the Russian-Georgian war of August 2008 could not affect this trend. In particular, in 2005 (that is, one year prior to the ostracism of Georgians in Russia), a total of more than $403 million were sent to Georgia, including more than $240 million from Russia, which amounted to 59.6% of the total amount of all remittances. As early as 2008, the total amount rose 2.5-fold compared with 2005 and reached $1,002 million, while remittances from Russia increased 2.6-fold and amounted to almost $634 million, that is, 63.3% of the total amount of all remittances.51 In 2009, the global financial crisis caused remittances to Georgia (a total of $842 million) to drop to 84 percent of the amount transferred in 2008, while this amount was even less from Russia—only 71.0% ($450 million or 53.5% of the total volume of all remittances to Georgia),52 which is primarily explained by the particular severity of the economic crisis in Russia. Compared with 2009, remittances to Georgia in 2010 rose both on the whole (a total of $940 million) and from Russia (a total of $530 million), whereby the share of

44 See: I. Krastev, “Russia and the Georgia War: The Great-Power Trap,” Open Democracy News Analysis, 31 Au- gust, 2008, available at [http://www.opendemocracy.net/article/russia-and-the-georgia-war-the-great-power-trap]. 45 See: “External Trade of Georgia by Countries,” The National Statistics Office of Georgia, available at [http:// www.geostat.ge/index.php?action=page&p_id=137&lang=eng]. 46 See: Ibidem. 47 See: Ibidem. 48 The problem of labor immigration is one of the most urgent for Russia (see, for example: S.V. Antufiev, “Realii trudovoy immigratsii v sovremennoy Rossii,” Pravo i bezopasnost, No. 3 (16), August 2005, available at [http://dpr.ru/ pravo/pravo_16_18.htm]). 49 See: V. Papava, “Russia’s Illiberal ‘Liberal Empire’,” Project Syndicate, 28 February, 2007, available at [http:// www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/russia-s-illiberal—liberal-empire-]. 50 See: M. Kakulia, “Labour Migrants’ Remittances to Georgia: Volume, Structure and Socio-Economic Effect,” Georgian Economic Trends, October 2007, p. 56. 51 See: “Workers’ Remittances by Major Partner Countries, Money Transfers by Countries,” National Bank of Georgia, available at [http://nbg.gov.ge/index.php?m=306&lng=eng]. 52 See: Ibidem. 68 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION remittances from Russia to Georgia also grew and amounted to 56.4%.53 Compared with 2010, in 2011 the given indicators amounted to more than $1,268 million for the country as a whole and more than $655 million from Russia, respectively, although the share of remittances from Russia to Georgia decreased and amounted to 51.7%.54 The situation with Russian (and not only Russian) investments in the Georgian economy is much more complicated since statistical information is so incomplete that it does not allow justified conclusions to be drawn about the actual situation. This is primarily caused by the fact that many companies carrying out direct investments are registered in offshore zones, which makes it essentially impossible to trace where the money comes from. Furthermore, according to the official statistics, Russia ranked fifth in the volume of foreign direct investments into Georgia in 2010, and sixth in 2011.55

The WTO: A Bone of Contention or Path to Rapprochement

Georgia acceded to the World Trade Organization (WTO) on 14 June, 2000.56 Russia has been trying to accede to the WTO since 1993,57 and the long talks did not end until 16 December, 2011. This was preceded by signing an agreement on 9 November, 2011 between Georgia and Russia on the latter’s accession to the WTO. As a member of the WTO, Georgia was willing from the very beginning to give its consent to Russia’s accession to this organization providing it could open customs control check points on the Abkhazian and South Ossetian sections of the border with Russia. Tbilisi’s conditions were based on the fact that movement of commodities at the borders of the two neighboring countries should be executed on the basis of national customs legislation. It must be emphasized that at this time the Kremlin had still not recognized the state independence of Abkhazia and South Ossetia, so Moscow officially recognized the Abkhazian and South Ossetian sections of the border with Russia as part of the Russian-Georgian border. The situation was complicated further by the five-day war between Russia and Georgia in Au- gust 2008 and Moscow’s unilateral recognition of the state independence of Abkhazia and South Ossetia immediately following it. Moscow regarded economic (and not only economic) relations between Russia, on the one side, and Abkhazia and South Ossetia, on the other, as interstate, regardless of Tbilisi’s reaction, as well as that of international organizations and most states of the world. On the whole, the Georgian leadership has not changed its prewar position with respect to Rus- sia’s accession to the WTO. Moscow interpreted Tbilisi’s conditions on this issue as exclusively political, although the Georgian side emphasized that its demands fully complied with the system of trade relations since these relations could only be executed by goods crossing the borders of the trading states.

53 See: “Workers’ Remittances by Major Partner Countries, Money Transfers by Countries.” 54 See: Ibidem. 55 See: “Foreign Direct Investments 2011,” The National Statistics Office of Georgia, p. 3, available at [http:// geostat.ge/cms/site_images/_files/english/bop/FDI_2011-eng.pdf]. 56 See: “Georgia and the WTO,” World Trade Organization, available at [http://www.wto.org/english/thewto_e/ countries_e/georgia_e.htm]. 57 See: K. Barysch, R. Cottrell, F. Frattini, P. Hare, P. Lamy, M. Medvedkov, Y. Yasin, “Russia and the WTO,” Center for European Reform (CER), London, 2002, available at [http://www.cer.org.uk/pdf/p394_russia_wto.pdf]. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 69 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Abkhazia and South Ossetia were displeased with the agreement reached in Geneva. The thing was that it envisaged the appointment of international observers to monitor the goods crossing the border with Russia, which Abkhazia and South Ossetia perceived as an infringement on their sovereignty.58 According to Moscow’s official position, on the other hand, the indicated agreement between Georgia and Russia does not infringe on the independence of Abkhazia and South Ossetia.59 Although the accession process to the WTO usually takes six years, it has taken Russia three times as long, largely owing to the inconsistent steps by the country’s leadership with respect to this accession.60 This was most likely also promoted by the economic skepticism regarding Rus- sia’s accession to the WTO. It was based on approximate calculations, according to which the most Russian companies could gain from accession to the WTO was estimated at $23 billion, while the appearance of foreign companies in the Russian domestic market could reap losses of up to $90 billion a year.61 Furthermore, Moscow found it well worth drawing attention to the fact that Russia, as a participating country in the Group of Eight, is not a member of such a large international organization as the WTO, the share of the member states of which accounts for more than 95% of the world trade turnover. Russia was also the only country in the G-20 that was not a member of the WTO. So it was unacceptable for Russia, which has every reason to consider itself a world leader, to, even for political considerations, not be a member of a world organization that directly forms trade rules on a global scale. And from the economic viewpoint, Moscow is extremely interested in participating in drawing up international trade rules, keeping in mind that the WTO member countries account for 92% of Russia’s trade turnover. This explains Russia’s particular interest in accession to the WTO. The possibility of the U.S. cancelling the derogatory Jackson-Vanik amendment also played an important role, which was expected to happen after Russia acceded to the WTO.62 The talks on Russia’s accession to the WTO, and even more the agreement reached with Geor- gia, confirm the reality yet again that Russia’s interests do not always coincide with the interests of Abkhazia and South Ossetia in everything. And this stands to reason if we keep in mind not only the fact that Russia is territorially much larger than these two states, but also has greater international significance.63 At the same time, however, it is important for Moscow to advocate the state independence of Abkhazia and South Ossetia it has recognized. Switzerland’s mediation in the talks between Georgia and Russia created a more or less acceptable opportunity for both sides to reach an agreement, for they were able to discuss and come to terms

58 See: “Abkhazia, South Ossetia Alarmed by Russia-Georgia WTO Compromise,” EurasiaNet, 9 November, 2011, available at [http://www.eurasianet.org/node/64480]; “Abkhaz Opposition Groups Slam Russia-Georgia WTO Deal,” Civil.Ge, 8 November, 2011, available at [http://www.civil.ge/eng/article.php?id=24114]; B. Baratelia, “Russia’s Acces- sion to the WTO: Likely Impact on the Abkhaz Economy,” International Alert, December 2011, available at [http:// www.international-alert.org/our-work/caucasus-dialogues-perspectives-region/russia%E2%80%99s-accession-wto-likely- impact-abkhaz-economy]; L. Taniia, “Vstuplenie Rossii v WTO—vygody i riski. Abkhazskaia tochka zreniia,” Apsny press, 25 December, 2011, available at [http://apsnypress.info/analytic/5043.html]. 59 See: “MID RF: Protokol po WTO ne ushchemliaet nezavisimosti Abkhazii i Iuzhnoy Osetii,” IA REGNUM, 10 November, 2011, available at [http://www.regnum.ru/news/1465809.html]. 60 See: A. Åslund, “Why Doesn’t Russia Join the WTO?” The Washington Quarterly, April 2010, available at [http://www.twq.com/10april/docs/10apr_Aslund.pdf]. 61 See: M. Rubchenko, A. Koksharov, “Zaderzhis na poroge,” Ekspert, 6 November, 2006, available at [http:// expert.ru/expert/2006/41/shans_prodat_rossiyskie_rynki_podorozhe/]. It must be noted that there are also entirely opposite economic assessments of Russia’s accession to the WTO (see, for example: I. Tochitskaya, “Russia’s Accession to the WTO: Impacts and Challenges,” CASE Network E-briefs, No. 1, 2012, available at [http://www.case-research.eu/upload/ publikacja_plik/37125535_2012-01_Tochitskaya.pdf]). 62 See: B. Gwertzman, “Impact of Russia’s WTO Entry on U.S.,” Council on Foreign Relations, 10 November, 2011, available at [http://www.cfr.org/russian-fed/impact-russias-wto-entry-us/p26473]. 63 See: S. Markedonov, “Vstuplenie v VTO: Abkhazskoe i iugo-osetinskoe izmerenie,” Center of Political Technol- ogy, Politkom.RU, 10 November, 2011, available at [http://www.politcom.ru/12858.html]. 70 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION on the proposals of a third side—Switzerland, which put forward a compromise solution. In particular, observers from a private certified company specializing in customs operations to be recommended by the Swiss side will be appointed in Russian territory to the de facto border with Abkhazia on the River Psou and to the de facto border with South Ossetia at the northern point of the Roki Tunnel, as well as at the Kazbegi-Verkhniy Lars control point on the Military Georgian Road (which links Geor- gia and Russia through North Ossetia beyond South Ossetian territory).64 This solution to a controversial issue between Georgia and Russia in the context of the interests of Abkhazia and South Ossetia can be interpreted ambiguously.65 On the one hand, Tbilisi could regard using the same observation regime in the customs sections of the borders between Abkhazia and South Ossetia and Russia, as well as at the Kazbegi-Verkhniy Lars check point, as Moscow’s indirect recognition that the border between Georgia and Russia also passes through sections of the latter’s borders with Abkhazia and South Ossetia. On the other hand, precisely the use of identical observation regimes in the customs sections between Russia and Abkhazia and South Ossetia and at the Kazbegi-Verkhniy Lars check point could indirectly mean that Russia has the same regime with all three bordering independent, from Moscow’s viewpoint, states—Abkha- zia, Georgia, and South Ossetia.66 There is also an essential difference between Abkhazia and South Ossetia. The thing is that the agreement reached between Georgia and Russia applies only to land borders, while trade relations between Russia and Abkhazia are also executed using sea transport. And the sea borders between Russia and Abkhazia are not monitored by international observers. South Ossetia does not have this opportunity. Nor will the air borders between Russia and Abkhazia be monitored, although Abkhazia’s airports are for the time being only designated for receiving passenger and military cargo planes. It must be admitted that carrying out border observation over goods traffic is essentially an additional barrier to international trade. Furthermore, it should be kept in mind that this barrier applies not only to Abkhazia and South Ossetia but is created equally at all three above-mentioned check points. However, due to the ban Moscow introduced in 2006 on the import of Georgian agricultural products into Russia, as well as taking into account the relative diversification of Georgian external trade ties (for example, finding new sales markets for Georgian wines), this new barrier will essentially not create any particular additional difficulties for Tbilisi. In all likelihood, South Ossetia will suffer much more from this barrier since the Russian Fed- eration accounts for the entire volume of its external trade and it is carried out exclusively by land. As for Abkhazia, it is in a slightly more preferable position, whereby not only because this barrier will not apply to goods transported from Russia by sea. The thing is that Russia accounts for only

64 The insufficient information available to the public about the agreement reached between Georgia and Russia, particularly the lack of clarity concerning the so-called trade corridors through which freight should move from the Rus- sian city of Adler through Abkhazia to the Georgian city of Zugdidi and from the North Ossetian village of Nar through South Ossetia to the south of the Georgian city of Gori (see: “Georgia-Russia WTO Deal in Details,” Civil.Ge, 18 November, 2011, available at [http://www.civil.ge/eng/article.php?id=24158]), gives reason to think that customs posts will also be opened in territory controlled by Tbilisi at the borders of the separatist regions, which is evaluated as Tbilisi’s failure at these talks (see: L. Tchantouridze, “The Damage to Georgian Sovereignty: On the Agreement to Accept Russia into the World Trade Organization,” State Interest, 4 January, 2010 (in Georgian), available at [http://stateinterest.wordpress.com/2012/01/ 04/%e1%83%96%e1%83%98%e1%83%90%e1%83%9c%e1%83%98%e1%83%a1%e1%83%90%e1%83%a5%e1% 83%90%e1%83%a0%e1%83%97%e1%83%95%e1%83%94%e1%83%9a%e1%83%9d%e1%83%a1%e1%83%a1%e1% 83%a3%e1%83%95%e1%83%94%e1%83%a0%e1%83%94/]). 65 See: V. Papava, “Russia’s Accession to the WTO: The Perspective from Tbilisi,” International Alert, December 2011, available at [http://www.international-alert.org/our-work/caucasus-dialogues-perspectives-region/russia%E2%80% 99s-accession-wto-perspective-tbilisi]. 66 This argument also has a weak side, since this regime does not apply to the fourth Caucasian entity bordering on Russia—Azerbaijan. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 71 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION two thirds of Abkhazia’s external trade and its second largest trade partner is Turkey, with which it trades by sea. In our opinion, introduction of the above-mentioned customs monitoring could yield a positive result for the entire region, the gist of which will lie in a cutback in smuggled goods traffic (at this stage it is not possible to give a more or less adequate quantitative assessment). It should be kept in mind that after Russia accedes to the WTO, the rules of this international organization will apply to most of the countries of the region, since Armenia and Turkey, as well as Georgia, are its members. This will create principles for developing regional trade since the WTO offers legal mechanisms for trade development, primarily by resolving trade conflicts. In so doing, it should be remembered that the WTO institutionally creates the necessary conditions for augmenting trade transactions, although membership in the WTO in itself is not sufficient for increasing these transactions. It is important to note that the talks between Georgia and Russia on accession of the latter to the WTO has taught the Abkhazians and South Ossets another lesson, showing them that they must learn to live with the fact that Moscow far from always can and wants to reckon with their interests in everything.67 Furthermore, neither Sukhumi and Tskhinvali, on the one hand, nor Tbilisi, on the other, are used to this yet. However, essentially “a precedent of complete disregard for Abkhazia’s opinion and interests has been created. And precedents, as we know, have the tendency to repeat themselves.”68 Russia’s accession to the WTO will create new opportunities for those Georgian companies that decide to return to the Russian market, particularly if they have documents that confirm the quality of their food products. If Moscow does not change its decision to close the Russian market to Georgian commodities, the WTO format could serve as a tool for resolving this controversy.

Conclusion

Despite the difficulties in Georgian-Russian relations, particularly after the August 2008 war, economic relations between the two countries continue unabated. In particular, they are still trading with each other (although at a qualitatively low level), while Russian capital is being much more vig- orously invested in the Georgian economy and Georgian manpower (just as the manpower from other former Soviet republics) is actively engaged in the Russian economy and remits some of its income to relatives living in Georgia. Georgia (like other post-Soviet countries) must deal with Russia’s striving to integrate its economy into the Russian economy through the mechanisms of the Liberal Empire, which Moscow is actively engaged in implementing. Several urgent problems have accumulated in Georgian-Russian economic relations, the resolution of which requires special attention. They primarily relate to the return of Georgian products to the Russian market. The positive result of the Russian-Georgian talks on Russia’s accession to the WTO gives good reason to expect constructive steps from both Moscow and Tbilisi toward resolving the many other burning problems.

67 See: S. Markedonov, op. cit. 68 L. Tania, op. cit. 72 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION Giulia PRELZ OLTRAMONTI

Teaching and Research Assistant, MA in Conflict, Security and Development from King’s College, London, Doctoral Program at the Department of Political Science, Université libre de Bruxelles (Brussels, Belgium).

THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF PROTRACTED CONFLICTS: ABKHAZIA, SOUTH OSSETIA, AND VIOLENCE MITIGATION

Abstract

n order to comprehensively elucidate oretical framework of the political economies I the dynamics of a conflict, we need to of war. After an initial review of the litera- look at the causes while taking into ac- ture, stakeholders in the war economies and count mobilization strategies. The two are the processes of boundary activation are closely intertwined, as causal factors lead identified. We then go on to address the to, contribute to, and support mobilization role of these stakeholders as violence en- strategies, while mobilization and organiza- trepreneurs showing that, although the in- tion allow for motivations to be expressed terests embedded in the political economies through collective violence instead of nonvi- of the protracted conflicts were geared olent engagement. We address the cases against resolving the stalemate itself, they of the prolonged conflicts of Abkhazia and were also, for the most part, against the South Ossetia in relation to the existing the- resumption of high-scale violence.

Introduction

When we look at the Abkhazian and South Ossetian conflicts and decide to explore the timeframe between the ceasefire agreements of the early 1990s and the resumption of the full-scale conflict in 2008, we are immediately confronted with a stumbling block. The very definition of these fifteen years is problematic, given the state of relative war and relative peace that characterized it. In- deed, both cases are protracted conflicts that cannot be considered resolved due to the lack of peace agreements, even though there has been little full-fledged confrontation. The question that we ask here—what was the role of the war economies in the protraction of the Abkhazian and South Ossetian conflicts?—touches upon the dynamics that sustained this state of affairs. The question does not specifically focus on a search for the exclusive causes and origins of war. While the causes and origins have repeatedly been explained by mono-causality, as scholars searched for an all-encompassing explanation, a more multifaceted—and somewhat modest—understanding of war is emerging from the long list of previous failures. According to this approach, which this paper adopts, there is a concomitance of factors causing war and affecting its development, be they Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 73 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION political, geopolitical, social, economic, cultural, or religious, whereby in each case the balance among them differs. While the goal here is not to prove the primacy of the political economic perspective in explaining every aspect of the ongoing war and its developments, this paper aims to elucidate the impact of the economic factors throughout the various phases of the protracted conflicts. A political economic analysis of war unearths some of the incentives for increasing or decreasing the levels of violence and protracting or ending the conflict. It is also, however, an eye-opener on war economies and the feasibility of conflicts. This paper will therefore touch upon both the “whys” and the “hows” of war and of its development.

The Political Economies of War

In order to comprehensively elucidate the dynamics of a conflict, we need to look at the causes while taking into account mobilization strategies. The two are closely intertwined, as causal factors lead to, contribute to, and support mobilization strategies, while mobilization and organization allow for motivations to be expressed through collective violence instead of nonviolent engagement. Surely this relationship between the two can be exploited by violence entrepreneurs or mitigated by peace entrepreneurs.1 In the first case, we would then be confronted with causal factors that are crafted to support mobilization; in the second case, we would be confronted with one of the cases of conflict that did not happen. But in order to understand the role of violence entrepreneurs, peace entrepreneurs, and all the actors in between, we need to explore our case studies, as it is unlikely that a template of causes and mobilization strategies will fit all past and ongoing wars. Although the body of literature on the political economies of war is vast, there are astonishingly few definitions of what is meant by the political economy of war. What is more, most of the existing definitions tend to be reductive, focusing on one aspect as the dominant factor.2 I have adopted Wen- nmann’s fairly broad definition: “The Political Economies of Conflict is devoted to the study of the relationship between political and economic spheres in affecting the dynamics of armed conflict as well as the relationship between the material environment and motivations in the organization of the use of force.”3 The economic factor in war has traditionally been associated with the financing of war, and therefore a specific component of organization and mobilization. The sources of financing conflict are extremely diverse, as well as the way finances are employed and vary according to the actors involved—state or non-state actors, for example, the conflict setting, the presence of external support, resources to exploit, and so on. As of late, however, there has been a conceptual shift in the understanding of the issue, as scholars have investigated economic agendas as a cause or driver of conflict.4 If we are to understand the intricacies of the political economy of a given conflict, we first need to have a sound grasp of the war economy itself, that is, “all economic activity carried out in wartime.”5 Let

1 While the phrase “violence entrepreneur” is widely used, I have crafted “peace entrepreneurs” for lack of an appropriate idiomatic expression. 2 See: D. Keen, The Economic Functions of Violence in Civil Wars, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1998; M.R. Berdal, D.M. Malone, Greed and Grievance: Economic Agendas in Civil Wars, Lynne Rienner, Boulder, 2000; P. Le Billon, The Political Economy of War: What Relief Agencies Need to Know, ODI, London, 2000. 3 A. Wennmann, “What is the Political Economy of Conflict? Delimiting a Debate on Contemporary Armed Con- flict,” Presented at the World International Studies Conference, Ljubliana, 23-26 July, 2008. 4 M. Berdal, D. Keen, “Violence and Economic Agendas in Civil Wars: Some Policy Implications,” Millennium- Journal of International Studies, No. 26 (3), 1997, p. 795; D. Keen, op. cit.; P. Collier, A. Hoeffler, “On Economic Caus- es of Civil War”, Oxford Economic Papers, No. 50 (4), 1998; P. Collier, A. Hoeffler, D. Rohner, “Beyond Greed and Grievance: Feasibility and Civil War”, Oxford Economic Papers, No. 61 (1), 2006. 5 M. Pugh, N. Cooper, War Economies in a Regional Context: Challenges of Transformation, Lynne Rienner, Boulder, 2004, p. 8. 74 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION us first point out that the normative concept of war as a negative and irrational state of chaos usually pairs up economic activity during war with the characterization of criminal or illegal. It would be useful however to treat war economies according to the legal vacuum in which they exist, and which is characteristic of war and post-war contexts. Given these legal vacuums, not only is the focus on legality then conceptually misleading, it also undermines a sound analytical approach to the case studies. If we maintain the categorization of legal versus illegal economic activities, we are then led to join under the same umbrella the ministry of defense employee, the person who does not take bribes, and the supplier of arms, food or services to the national army, and pitch them against a group formed by the resident of a borderland area who “smuggles” jeans or tomatoes across the border or ceasefire line to feed his family, businessmen who “smuggle” primary resources or arms to non-state combatants, and non-state combatants themselves. Clearly, the focus on the illegality of economic dynamics and the criminalization of many of these actors does not tell us much about what drives these actors, how and why. More useful categorizations have been drawn in terms of combat, shadow, and coping economies, leading to a better understanding of the motivations, incentives, and dynamics of different actors.6 n First, as defined by Pugh and Cooper, “combat economies include both (1) the capture of control over production and economic resources to sustain conflict and (2) economic strategies of war aimed at the disempowerment of specific groups.”7 The main actors of such groups are combatants, members of military structures, and their political backers, whether state or non-state8 ; their key activities are varied and span from taxation and external financial support to trade, asset stripping, and looting. What draws them together is the motivation that drives their economic activity, namely funding the war effort or achieving military objectives. n Second, the shadow economy includes activities aimed at making a profit on the margin of conflict. These activities rely on the environment created by the war, exploiting, for example, the legal vacuum or the emergence of new borders. The rationale behind all the activities, which are extremely varied, however, is of an economic rather than military nature. Similarly lacking a military rationale are the activities of the coping economy, the goal of which is “to cope and maintain asset bases through low-risk activities, or survive through asset erosion.”9 In fact, these two last categories overlap considerably, mirroring the multiplicity of interests of some actors and the inapplicability of clear-cut distinctions among residents, elites, businessmen, the military, and the government. The resident of the borderland area who trades in jeans or tomatoes across profitable ceasefire lines is an actor of the coping economy as long as he feeds his family, whereas he becomes a participant of the shadow economy when he starts trading a few tons of tomatoes, adding to that remunerative gasoline and cigarettes, and accumulating a certain amount of capital out of his trade. But the question of whether there is a need to differentiate between the two is pertinent. And while it is difficult to assert that there is a clear-cut distinction, there is a marked dif-

6 J. Goodhand, “From War Economy to Peace Economy? Reconstruction and State Building in Afghanistan,” Jour- nal of International Affairs, No. 58 (1), 2004, pp.155-175; M. Pugh, N. Cooper, op. cit. 7 M. Pugh, N. Cooper, op. cit., pp. 7-8. 8 The need to move beyond a rebel-centric approach has become increasingly apparent, including a shift toward consistent analyses of the role of governments and third parties, their combatants, and their military structures (see: K. Ballen- tine, H. Nitzschke, The Political Economy of Civil War and Conflict Transformation, Berlin, 2005, p. 4). 9 J. Goodhand, “From War Economy to Peace Economy?” in: State Reconstruction and International Engagement in Afghanistan, Joint CSP/ZEF (Bonn) Symposium, 30 May-1 June, 2003, p. 4. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 75 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION ference between the exploitation of a conflict environment and the ensuing legal vacuum, as well as survival through adaptation to that very same environment. It is also difficult to draw lines among purely combat, shadow, and coping economic activities. Trade is a good case in point: trade of licit or illicit resources (gems, drugs, but also gasoline and cigarettes) may fund the war-waging effort; trade in all sorts of commodities and consumer goods is the backbone of most shadow economies; and petty trade largely supports the communities of conflict- affected areas. Similarly, asset stripping is a component of all war economies, but clearly with different aims and at different levels. All this shows that case study analyses are needed in order to understand the “who” (the actors), the “why” (the motivations and incentives), and the “how” (the key activities) of all three sectors of the war economy, or, more specifically, the stakeholders.10 This, in turn, supports the inquiry into the effects and impacts on the conflict itself of the various strands of the war economy, their actors, their activities, and the relationships that they form. While the study of political economies of war has initially centered on Sub-African cases, it subsequently expanded its field of inquiry to numerous non-African regional conflict complexes. The conflicts of the Caucasus, however, remained largely unexplored from this perspective. While some international organizations have carried out a few studies on the war economies of some of the protracted conflicts, mostly aimed at delivering development aid and carrying out confidence-building programs, the academic research community has steered clear of such issues. As mentioned above, this paper does not aim to prove the primacy of the political economic perspective in explaining every aspect of the protracted conflicts of Abkhazia and South Ossetia, as well as their developments. How- ever, a political economic analysis of war elucidates some of the incentives in increasing or decreasing levels of violence and protracting or ending conflict. It is also an eye-opener on war economies and the feasibility of conflicts. A few considerations shall be examined in order to address the cases of Abkhazia and South Ossetia in light of the theoretical framework spelled out above. When looking at wars, scholars and practitioners have mostly focused on the timeframe that covers wars until a ceasefire agreement is signed and high-intensity violence ends. More recently, attention has also been devoted to the topic of peace-building. Peace-building, however, customarily implies that a peace agreement is in sight, or has already been signed, which in turn indicates that some sort of a formal agreement has been found on a range of issues, and not only in terms of a halt to the fighting. A peace agreement implies solid- ified channels of communication between the parties and allows for external actors to intervene in a defined legal framework. In many cases, however, this is not how events unfold. The parties may agree on the cessation of high-intensity hostilities for a number of reasons, which might include mediation, exhaustion, or strategic calculations, but fail to, or purposefully refuse to, agree on anything else. We hence have a case where a ceasefire agreement is signed, but no peace agreement is in sight or even sought after. Tension remains high—to varying degrees—but a high-intensity war does not necessarily resume. This is indeed what happened in the cases of Abkhazia and South Ossetia. While the appellation that was given to the state of affairs, namely “frozen conflicts,” is misguided, as both conflicts continued to evolve throughout the years, it remains relevant to look at them in their post-ceasefire agreement continuity. While hostilities and armed confrontation between Georgia, on the one side, and South Ossetia and Abkhazia, on the other side, broke out in 1991 and 1992, respectively, long-lasting ceasefire agreements were reached in 1992 and 1994, respectively. These dates, however, do not tell the whole story, as tension was present, although it varied in intensity, throughout the 1990s and 2000s. The conflicts of Abkhazia and South Ossetia in fact became protracted conflicts to be tackled within the spectrum of a war-peace continuum. The question that arises—namely who were the stake-

10 See: K. Ballentine, H. Nitzschke, op. cit. 76 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION holders in the Abkhazian and South Ossetian (protracted) conflicts—carries a double implication. On the one hand, we can identify the violence entrepreneurs who profited from the failure to reach a peace agreement, and how they influenced or contributed to that failure. On the other hand, we shall seek out the peace entrepreneurs (or violence mitigators) who influenced, contributed to, and gained from the lack of resumption in high-intensity fighting. Once the picture of the war economies in the two cases has been established, a stakeholder analysis can be carried out, expanding our understanding of the political economies of these two protracted conflicts, that is, the underlying relationship between the how (feasibility) and the why (motive).

Stakeholders of War Economies and Boundary Activation

We will take a look at the stakeholders of combat, shadow, and coping economies in the two cases. It is worth noting that it will be necessary to widen our understanding of combat economies to adapt it to the specificity of a protracted conflict. In fact, in addition to sustaining military capability and preventing the encroachment of Tbilisi’s influence and control, the strategy of the de facto states for gaining the upper hand in the conflict was to proceed along the path of state-building and independence from Georgia. In a larger sense, then, combat economies aim to develop some sort of economic viability for the de facto states. A significant share of the war economies in both cases was generated by border and boundary activation.11 Some of the most powerful stakeholders had interests in cross-border trade, which con- tributes to a profitable shadow economy. Business groups divided Abkhazian territory into zones of influence and became involved in moving specific commodities across the Psou River, the Gali region, and the ceasefire line (CFL).12 By 1995, two Georgian paramilitary groups, the Forest Brothers and the White Legion, mostly abandoned their counter-insurgency operations in favor of commercial activities.13 Along the Inguri River, the stakeholders in widespread smuggling networks included security services (Russian, Abkhazian, and Georgian), militias (Abkhazian and Georgian), officials (Abkhazian and Georgian), peacekeeping forces, and suppliers and distributors of various nationalities. In addition, residents of the adjacent areas, often repatriates to the Gali region or IDPs from the Gali region living in Samegrelo, carried out small-scale smuggling. It allowed them to make a living, given the economic state of despair of the Gali region and the serious problem with landmines in fields previously used for agriculture.14 As an indirect effect, this petty trade allowed the residents of Abkhazia to have some access to consumer goods in spite of the embargo. Along the CFL, the involvement of Georgian security forces and bureaucracy was crucial to the smuggling networks until 2004. Low-salaried Georgian officials, earning as little as $7 a month, demanded bribes to supplement their income. Local departments of the law-enforcement agencies and influential actors in Samegrelo controlled large-scale smuggling, in particular of petroleum

11 Boundaries are the dividing lines at which something changes that separate areas of certain rules of behavior. In cases of conflict, in fact, boundaries can be hardened or softened to suit various interests, a process defined as “boundary activation” (C. Tilly, The Politics of Collective Violence, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2003). 12 See: S.R. Closson, State Weakness in Perspective: Trans-territorial Energy Networks in Georgia, 1993-2003, Unpublished Thesis Submitted for Doctoral Degree in International Relations, London School of Economics, 2007, pp. 166-167. 13 See: D. Billingsley, “Security Deteriorates along the Abkhazia-Georgia Ceasefire Line”, Janes Intelligence Re- view, No. 13 (9), 2001, pp. 18-20. 14 See: A. Kukhianidze, “Smuggling in Abkhazia and the Tskhinvali Region in 2003-2004,” in: Organised Crime and Corruption in Georgia, ed. by L. Shelley, E.R. Scott, A. Latta, Routledge, London, 2007, p. 84. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 77 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION products. The Abkhazian Government in Exile, the Georgian Tax Department, and MPs from Samegrelo owning gasoline stations were singled out as providing support to groups involved in smuggling.15 Officials within the Ministry of Internal Affairs had stakes in drug and weapons smuggling, as well as kidnapping and extortion16; senior officers of anti-drug departments were involved in drug trade.17 Aside from trade, additional profits could be made by further exploiting the business environment created by the protracted conflict, the trade restrictions in effect, and the peculiar and loose legal environment in Abkhazia. The family of Vladislav Ardzinba, de facto president of Abkhazia from 1994 to 2005, was at the center of the shadow economy, with interests spanning from tourism to the mobile phone sector, gasoline smuggling, and timber production and export.18 After 1999, Moscow supported Russian investments in tourism, and hypothesized intervention to protect them when Geor- gia threatened the use of force to impose sanctions and applied economic pressure to consolidate its influence on the region. In South Ossetia, along the TransCam, a trans-territorial network composed of Russians, South Ossetians, and Georgians orchestrated trade; the stakeholders in this network were members of the elite, bureaucracy, business groups, and consumers. Moreover, the involvement of traders and goods from the wider Southern and Northern Caucasus created a large group of regional beneficiaries. IDPs, refugees, and residents of the conflict areas mainly conducted small-scale trade. Although the control of TransCam smuggling was gradually concentrated in the hands of a few well-connected businessmen and members of the elite, the trade continued to provide a living for the residents of South Ossetia and adjacent areas in Georgia. It allowed for the creation of jobs and contributed to keeping prices of basic goods low, as they were virtually duty-free.19 The Georgian and South Ossetian bureaucracies and elites gradually took control over the bulk of the trade, beginning with the profitable smuggling of petroleum products. Members of the Georgian elite, who had significant interests in trade, included successive Ministers of Interior and a Governor of Shida Kartli.20 Within South Ossetia, trade shifted to the hands of few stakeholders drawn from the South Ossetian elite and bureaucracy. The Ergneti market was partly controlled by Lokha Chibirov, the son of the first de facto president. Access to and from the Ergneti market in itself was highly profitable, as protection was provided at a price. Georgian paramilitary groups extracted tolls under the umbrella of the Georgian State Chancellery21; Russian and Georgian customs officials collected bribes in other sections of the corridor, along the Roki tunnel and in Shida Kartli, respectively.22 While in both cases, the power ministries and military were heavily involved in trade and other forms of economic exploitation, it is worth noting that in most cases the extracted profit was only indirectly linked to military aims. On the contrary, most beneficiaries exploited their position of power—whether official or unofficial—for their own personal gain and profit accumulation. But combat

15 See: S.R. Closson, op. cit., pp. 168-173. 16 See: K. Stier, “Behind a Desk, Georgian Official Promises War on Corruption,” Eurasianet, 19 December, 2003. 17 See: S.E. Cornell, “A Growing Threat to Transnational Organised Crime,” in: The South Caucasus: A Challenge for the EU, ed. by D. Lynch, Chaillot Papers, No. 65, Institute for Security Studies, Paris, 2003, p. 33. 18 See: A. Kukhianidze, op. cit., pp. 85-86. 19 See: Georgia: Avoiding War in South Ossetia, Europe Report, No.159, International Crisis Group, Tbilisi, Brus- sels, 2004, p. 10. 20 See: M. Areshidze, “Current Economic Causes of Conflicts in Georgia,” in: Strategic Conflict Assessment, ed. by T. Vaux, Unpublished Report for UK Department for International Development (DFID), 2002; T. Freese, “A Report from the Field: Georgia’s War against Contraband and its Struggle for Territorial Integrity,” SAIS Review, Vol. 25, No. 1, 2005, p. 110. 21 See: T. Freese, op. cit.; A. Kukhianidze, A. Kupatadze, R. Gotsiridze, Smuggling through Abkhazia and Tskhin- vali Region of Georgia, Transnational Crime and Corruption Center, Tbilisi, 2004, p. 19. 22 See: V. Dzhikaev, A. Parastaev, “Economy and Conflict in South Ossetia,” in: From War Economies to Peace Economies in the South Caucasus, ed. by P. Champain, D. Klein, N. Mirimanova, International Alert, London, 2004, p. 205. 78 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION economies, which we could better qualify as the share of war economies that allowed for, and sustained, protraction of the conflict, and the lack of effort to achieve a peace agreement and a settlement were indeed in place. The de facto states themselves, their institutions, and, mainly, their leaderships relied on tax revenues from trade and semi-legal activities not only for personal profit, but also for some degree of state-building and the establishment of de facto institutions in the territory they controlled militarily. This included providing some degree of services to its citizens and, crucially, funding institutions to consecrate Abkhazian (and to a lesser degree South Ossetian) de facto sovereignty. In addition, Blake et al. recently revealed the strong correlation between economic development and legitimacy (of the state and of the regime to different extents) in Abkhazia, pointing out the stronger relations between the two.23 It is clear from the above that numerous actors had a stake in the border activation and deac- tivation processes. Among its numerous implications, the activation of de facto borders between Georgia and the de facto states curtailed the reach of the Georgian state’s institutions and law-enforcement agencies, including customs bodies. While in South Ossetia this allowed for florid commercial exchanges, in Abkhazia assets could be exploited and traded northwards, notwithstanding the CIS-imposed trade restrictions. In fact, economic restrictions were perceived within Abkhazia as economic aggression and, as anticipated in the scholarly literature, the recipients of the sanctions simply adjusted to the hardships, accepting lower living standards and establishing coping strategies.24 What is more, from the late 1990s, Russian institutional and non-institutional investors exploited the fact that few other investors were willing to significantly finance activities in Abkhazia. While activation of the de facto borders undermined Georgian territorial integrity, numerous Geor- gian officials held personal stakes in activating the de facto borders, profiting directly or indirectly from the commercial networks which straddled the CFLs. Two more groups of actors adapted and benefited from partial activation of the de facto borders (especially in the case of South Ossetia), namely the residents of the borderlands on both sides of the CFL and traders in the wider region who exploited the transit channels through the de facto states to avoid the constraints and the costs linked to official commercial activity.

Violence, Violence Mitigation, or Peace Entrepreneurs?

What remains to be seen is the contribution of the stakeholders described above to the dynamics of the protracted conflicts. The activities of the stakeholders listed above exploited the lack of central governance, laws, and control over the de facto borders and most of the territories of Abkhazia and South Ossetia. However, they were also dependent on the absence of a renewed high-intensity conflict, which would have entailed increased militarization of the region, heightened control of the CFL on both sides, disruption of trade routes, and potentially a strengthened and internationalized peacekeeping mission. In this context, Wennmann even disputed the customary correlation between organized crime, traditionally counted among the foremost violence entrepreneurs, and renewed armed violence; given that transnational criminal groups profited from established smuggling routes, they

23 See: K.M. Blake, J. O’Loughlin, M. Ward, “The Viability of de facto States: Post-War Developments and Inter- nal Legitimacy in Abkhazia,” Paper prepared for the annual meeting of the APSA, Seattle, September 2011. 24 See: J. Galtung, “On the Effects of International Sanctions,” in: Dilemmas of Economic Coercion: Sanctions in World Politics, ed. by M. Nincic, P. Wallensteen, Praeger, New York, 1983. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 79 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION had vested interests in maintaining a relative stable environment.25 Indeed, the levels of violence in the borderlands (especially in the Gali and Samegrelo regions) were high.26 However, it was para- doxically noted that the same racketeer Abkhazian paramilitary groups that were responsible for heightened insecurity in the Gali district guaranteed a certain level of security in the area along the CFL.27 It appears in fact that, in the Abkhazian case, the main violence entrepreneurs were the actors who took control over the property of IDPs and imposed protection rackets on repatriates and small-scale smugglers. At the other extreme we can identify those actors who had an interest in the resolution of the conflict. Aside from the crucial issues of territorial integrity, the Georgian state would have politically and economically benefited from a war-to-peace transition, as long as this consisted of restoring its control over its international borders and entire territory. A parallel can be drawn with the reintegra- tion of Adjaria under central control, which led to strengthening of the budget and stabilization of the investment climate.28 It can also be added that resolution of the conflict would have led to normaliza- tion of the economic and business environment, allowing Abkhazian small-producers to transparently export their produce, as well as tourism to expand beyond monopolistic schemes, and benefiting the residents of the borderlands. However, this is partially unfounded. As mentioned above, coping economies were largely dependent on partial activation of the de facto borders, and most economic activities relied on the distortion of competition and property rights. Actors who adapted to the economic conditions created in the aftermath of the ceasefire agreements were unlikely to foresee considerable advantages in a resolution of the conflict. This could have led to a reunification of the de facto states with Georgia, with striking implications in terms of property rights, rule of law, and control of external borders, but could have also created independent states with sealed southern borders. Most actors in fact had an inherent political and economic interest in the absence of conflict settlement—as well as in the resumption of a high-scale conflict. The process of state-building went hand in hand with the process of consolidation of the elites in both de facto states, and members of these elites had both economic and political interests in preserving the status quo. First, they extracted significant profits from most forms of economic activity, taking advantage of their dominant position within the de facto states. This position, in turn, was dependent on the exploitation of clientele networks based on the provision of opportunities for business and trade. Secondly, the processes of de facto state-building similarly relied on tax revenues from trade and led to providing its citizens with at least some services and, importantly, funding power institutions to consecrate the sovereignty of the de facto states. This partly fits in with what we described above as a wider understanding of combat economies for the sake of protracted conflicts, and partly in the broad category of shadow economies. Contrary to logic, even the Abkhazian military apparatus would not have greatly benefited from the resumption of full-scale hostilities. It was a main recipient of the budget because of the prevailing siege mentality, which, in the late 1990s and early 2000s, was fostered by the embargo, aggressive rhetoric on the Georgian side, and domestic propaganda. In addition, as already mentioned above, members of the military profited from their individual involvement in trade networks and economic activities, which the lack of fighting fostered. In all these cases, the actors had a stake in the lack of conflict resolution, as well as in the lack of resumption of violence. Only when the economic status quo in South Ossetia was upset with the closure of the commercial route along the Transcaucasian highway did the stakeholders lose their interest in prolonging a

25 See: A. Wennmann, “The Political Economy of Transnational Crime and its Implications for Armed Violence in Georgia,” in: The Illusions of Transition: Which Perspectives for Central Asia and the Caucasus, Conference Proceed- ings, Graduate Institute of International Studies, Geneva, 17 March, 2004, p. 105. 26 See: S.R. Closson, op. cit., pp. 175-176. 27 See: D. Billingsley, op. cit., p. 19; A. Kukhianidze et al., op. cit., p. 16. 28 See: N. Khutsidze, “Ajara Boosts Government’s Financial Hopes,” Civil Ge., 8 May, 2004. 80 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

“no peace/no war” stalemate. As a consequence of the closure of the Ergneti market, South Ossetia became even more dependent on Russia for its budget, economic survival, and state-building. Georgia and Russia both attempted to advance their political and strategic interests through exploitation of the South Ossetian economic distortions by depriving South Ossetia of a lifeline and acquiring preponderant influence, respectively. In fact, Tbilisi mismanaged the use of economic pressure. The civilian population was offered few viable alternatives, while the major stakeholders were simply disregarded. The imposition of economic restrictions was not accompanied by significant political measures, lacking dialog and coordination. South Ossetia therefore perceived the trade restrictions in the republic as a blockade and aggression. Actors who had invested their interests and survival strategies correlated to the dynamics of mitigated violence within the larger conflict setting between 1992 and 2004 lost them quite abruptly. Violence mitigation was no longer profitable and, aside from the resumption of fighting in 2004, hostilities remained strong until the full-intensity confrontation of 2008.

Conclusions and Further Research

While the complexity of the conflicts in the Caucasus is rarely scrutinized from a political economy perspective, this paper shows that this approach unveils a whole new set of actors, motivations, and mobilization processes at work in prolonged conflicts. While it would be difficult to argue that war economies are the driving forces behind the conflicts under scrutiny, it would be equally difficult to discard the incentives and the interests listed above. Indeed, mono-causality has failed to explain the protraction of the conflicts; a more comprehensive approach to the question includes the evaluation of the cases through a variety of perspectives. We envisage two main directions for further exploring this vector of inquiry. n First, we need to assess the impact of the various stakeholders on the unfolding protracted conflicts. Which actors were able to influence the development of the conflicts, the conflict- resolution process, and the levels of violence in the two cases? How? We can look at “mobil- ity policies,” including formal and informal policies aimed at allowing or limiting the movement of people and goods across dividing lines as a main factor through which various sets of actors have hardened or softened the de facto borders. Through this prism, we can assess the impact of various actors on the dividing lines, and therefore on the processes of boundary activation. n The second path of inquiry addresses the complementarity of a political economy approach and other explanatory approaches. If war economies sustain mobilization strategies or protraction of the conflicts, how do they complement other factors allowing for mobilization— such as political dynamics; social aspects; and ethnic, cultural and religious identities? Clar- ifying the interaction among the various vectors of inquiry is relevant for understanding both the “whys” and the “hows” of these two cases. This paper has set the ground for such future work to be carried out. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 81 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION Alexander KRYLOV

D.Sc. (Hist.), President of the Scientific Society for the Study of the Caucasus, Chief Researcher at the Center for Development and Modernization Studies, The Institute of World Economy and International Relations, Russian Academy of Sciences (Moscow, the Russian Federation).

SOUTH CAUCASIAN ENERGY TRANSIT: PROBLEMS AND PROSPECTS

Abstract

his article examines the special fea- ergy cooperation between Russia and the T tures of forming South Caucasian en- European Union, which is increasing the ergy transit as a potentially important EU’s interest in creating a South Caucasian component of the world market and the Eu- energy corridor. It also analyzes Azerbaijan’s ropean Union’s energy security. It shows the key importance from the viewpoint of South specifics of the role of the energy resource Caucasian energy transit and the special export countries and transit states, the spe- features of the country’s energy coopera- cial features of Russia’s position as both the tion with Turkey, Russia, and Iran. It exam- largest energy resource supplier and a tran- ines several alternatives for transporting gas sit country, and the complicated nature of from Azerbaijan and Turkmenistan to the the latter’s energy partnership with the EU. European markets and justifies the expedi- It analyzes the situation in the world energy ency of choosing implementable and eco- market and the contradictory nature of en- nomically lucrative projects.

Introduction

A separate region called the Southern Caucasus (SC) emerged on the world political map after the collapse of the Soviet Union when Azerbaijan, Armenia, and Georgia became independent states and full-fledged members of the international community. The important geopolitical position of this small region has made it a target of the leading world and regional players’ attention for more than 20 years now. The emergence of the Southern Caucasus provided the U.S. and EU with a convenient springboard on the borders of Russia and Iran to replace the former Russian-Soviet Transcaucasus, as well as with access to the rich energy resources of Central Asia, which account for one tenth of the world oil and gas reserves. There are different assessments of the Southern Caucasus’ oil and gas reserves. 82 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION Azerbaijan’s Role

According to Western experts’ most optimistic assessments, Azerbaijan (the only country in the Southern Caucasus that possesses oil and gas reserves) accounts for only 0.6% of the proven world oil reserves (1 billion tonnes or 7 billion barrels) and 0.8% of the proven world gas reserves (1.37 trillion cubic meters).1 However, Azerbaijan contends that its reserves are at least twice as high. Head of the State Oil Company of the Azerbaijan Republic (SOCAR) Rovnag Abdullaev claims that Azerbaijan’s oil reserves amount to 2 billion tonnes, while extractable gas reserves are evaluated at 2.2 trillion cubic meters.2 According to his data, in 2010, Azerbaijan achieved the highest indices in oil and gas production—51 million tonnes and 27 billion cubic meters of gas, respectively. Mr. Abdullaev emphasizes that in recent years, Azerbaijan has been ensuring its energy security and has turned from a gas importer into its exporter.3 Azerbaijani experts give even more optimistic assessments. According to them, Azerbaijan’s proven oil reserves amount to 7-13 billion barrels and proven gas reserves to 2.6 trillion cubic meters. According to these assessments, by 2015, oil production in Azerbaijan will increase to 60 million tonnes and gas production to 30 billion cubic meters, while by 2025, the latter will increase to 50 billion cubic meters a year.4 If these assessments do not prove to be short-term and unjustifiably high, Azerbaijan could become an important player in the world energy market. However, the U.S. and EU continue to regard the Southern Caucasus primarily as a transit region through which energy resources from Cen- tral Asia reach the world markets bypassing Russia and Iran. The U.S. and EU have also been supporting and financing the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan oil pipeline and Baku-Tbilisi-Erzurum gas pipeline, rendering Azerbaijan large amounts of assistance in military- and navy-building, and actively helping to intensify Azerbaijan-NATO relations. The Azerbaijani leadership is fond of repeating that Azerbaijan’s cooperation with NATO is strategic in nature. Azerbaijan’s transformation into a transit country for exporting Central Asian energy resources to the world markets could undermine Russia’s position in the Caspian region. At first, the Russian leadership successfully neutralized this threat by developing energy cooperation with the Central Asian countries (providing transit to foreign markets via the existing pipelines, making its own oil and gas purchases, etc.). In 2009, Russia also began buying gas in Azerbaijan. Prior to this, Turkey was the main importer of Azerbaijani gas (the first gas was sent along the Baku-Tbilisi-Erzurum pipeline at the end of 2006). It proved extremely difficult to establish energy partnership between Azerbaijan and Turkey. According to the terms of the contract signed in 2001, the price of Azerbaijani gas was set at $120 per thousand cubic meters. However, the contract stipulated that the prices could be readjusted every year with mutual consent. In April 2008, Azerbaijan declared its intention to raise the price since it proved to be almost three-fold lower than in Europe. But Botaº, Turkey’s Petroleum Pipeline Corporation, was against this hike, although it was buying fuel from Gazprom at a much higher price than from Azerbaijan. The Turkish side suggested setting the transit fee for Azerbaijani gas to Europe at 70% of the “generally accepted world standard.” Furthermore, Ankara was clearly trying to correlate pumping gas to Europe with ensuring that Turkey paid privileged prices for Azerbaijani gas. According to the Azerbaijani side, the rates for pumping gas offered by Turkey were totally unacceptable, since they were 70% higher than similar rates for the region.5

1 [http://www.regnum.ru/news/474627.html]. 2 [http://www.trend.az/capital/energy/1838856.html]. 3 [http://www.trend.az/capital/energy/1838856.html]. 4 [http://www.mioge.ru/RU/world/caspian/]. 5 [http://www.caucasusinstitute.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/yearbook_final-2009.pdf]. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 83 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Signing of the Protocol on the Establishment of Diplomatic Relations between Turkey and Ar- menia in Zurich aggravated the contradictions between Azerbaijan and Turkey in the energy sphere, leading to an unprecedented cooling in their bilateral relations. In October 2009, President Ilham Aliev announced that Azerbaijan would consider gas export alternatives since the Turkish-Azerbaija- ni talks on the transit of blue fuel had reached an impasse. Moreover, he accused Turkey of hampering the agreements by offering unacceptably low prices for Azerbaijani gas and emphasized that until recently Azerbaijan had been selling natural gas to Turkey at a price 30% lower than the price in the world market.6 The energy crisis in relations between Azerbaijan and Turkey, as well as the indefinite prospects for exporting Azerbaijani gas to Europe, compelled Baku to search urgently for alternative sales markets. On 14 October, 2009, Gazprom and SOCAR signed a contract on the export of 500 million cubic meters of Azerbaijani gas to Russia at a price the Azerbaijani leadership considered to be “mutually advantageous.” The delivery volumes of Azerbaijani gas to Russia have been constantly growing: according to the contracts entered in 2011, Gazprom was supposed to receive two billion and in 2012 more than 2 billion cubic meters of gas. An additional agreement on increasing the volumes of Azerbaijani gas purchased by Russia to three billion cubic meters a year was signed in Sochi on 24 January, 2012.7 Along with increasing the delivery volumes of Azerbaijani gas to Russia, SOCAR announced the possibility of building enterprises for liquefying Azerbaijani gas in Georgia with its further transportation by liquefied gas carriers via the Black Sea to Rumania and Bulgaria. Iran could become another important consumer of Azerbaijani gas. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, Azerbaijan and Iran agreed on gas delivery swaps. Gas from Azerbaijan goes to the Iranian border provinces, while Iran delivers the same amount of gas to autonomous Nakhchivan, which is isolated from the rest of Azerbaijani territory. According to the available data, the daily gas exchange amounts to as much as 1.5 million cubic meters. In January 2010, SOCAR and the Iranian National Gas Company signed an agreement on gas deliveries to Iran, which at the initial stage will amount to 1.2 million cubic meters a day.8 The Iranian side expressed its willingness to buy any amount of gas from Azerbaijan in the future. The development of energy cooperation between Azerbaijan and neighboring Russia and Iran is promoted by the gas pipelines remaining from Soviet times that link up these countries. Azerbaijan and Iran are connected by the Gazi-Magomed–Astara–Bind–Biand gas pipeline, the throughput capacity of which amounts to 10 billion cubic meters a year. However, the tense situation around Iran is hampering further development of Azerbaijani-Iranian energy cooperation. Despite this, the diversification of gas deliveries carried out in a short time strengthened Baku’s position at the talks with transit states and potential buyers of Azerbaijani energy resources. After the contract on the delivery of Azerbaijani gas to Russia was signed, President Ilham Al- iev said that the gas price and transit rates offered by Turkey did not suit Azerbaijan in the least. He directly accused Ankara of obstructing the export of Azerbaijani fuel to Europe. It was obvious that if Turkey continued stalling and failed to offer gas prices and transit fees that suited Azerbaijan, the scope of energy cooperation between the two countries would be reduced to a minimum. This would ultimately bury all the projects for building a southern energy corridor bypassing Russia. However, it would be too disadvantageous for Baku to become overly dependent on one of its customers or transit countries, be it Turkey, Iran, or Russia. It goes without saying that Azerbaijan and Turkey ultimately managed to overcome their differences and begin implementing joint large-scale projects in the energy sphere.

6 [http://www.good-article.ru/articles/1005519.html]. 7 [http://www.kavkazoved.info/news/2012/03/21/azerbajdzhan-kak-eksporter-gaza-ambicii-i-realnost.html]. 8 [http://journal-neo.com/?q=ru/node/259]. 84 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION The Southern Caucasus and Europe’s Energy Security

Successful functioning of South Caucasian energy transit requires resolving many difficult and interrelated problems. Along with the still unresolved problem of establishing stable and large oil and gas deliveries from Central Asia through the Southern Caucasus to Europe, stability must be maintained in the region and renewal of the currently frozen hostilities in the conflict zones prevented. Nor can aggravation of the domestic political situation and possible destabilization of the transit countries—Azerbaijan, Georgia, and Turkey—be allowed, which is particularly urgent in the context of the current Arab Spring. And, finally, reliable functioning of South Caucasian energy transit is possible only if relations between Azerbaijan and Georgia are stable. None of this is easy to ensure since the newly independent states in the Southern Caucasus were established in extremely volatile circumstances and the region still has a high conflict potential. It goes without saying that the establishment and successful functioning of South Caucasian energy transit will help to turn the region into an important component of Europe’s energy security and promote an increase in its role in the world economy and politics. This is of the greatest relevance for Azerbaijan and Georgia, while the U.S., European Union, Turkey, and Israel are also showing a high level of interest. On 7 September, 2011, the European Commission published a policy document called The EU Energy Policy: Engaging with Partners beyond Our Borders. It mentions the Trans-Caspian Gas Pipeline (TCG), which is considered to be part of the Nabucco gas pipeline, as one of the main projects needed to ensure the EU’s energy security. The document notes that the agreement among the EU, Azerbaijan, and Turkmenistan regarding the TCG forms the foundation for building infrastructure that will ensure deliveries of Turkmen gas to the European market through the Cas- pian Sea. The need for the EU to step up its activity in the Caspian vector was dictated by several factors that changed the situation in the European and world energy markets. In the context of the growing shortage of energy resources in the world market, the accelerated economic development of such large states as China and India is becoming a negative factor for the EU. According to the Internation- al Energy Agency’s forecast, by 2030, the economy of China and India will consume around half of the world energy resources. The increase in consumption in these countries, in combination with the overall increase in energy resource consumption on a global scale (including in the least developed countries), is intensifying competition in the world market and creating new challenges for the EU’s energy security. The aggravated struggle over energy resources is turning the developed and developing countries into potential antagonists. This is raising the importance of the energy factor in world politics, since any disruption of oil and gas deliveries threatens to upset socioeconomic and political life in those states that consume these resources in the largest amounts. These are the most developed and prosperous countries of the modern world—the U.S. and the European Union states. In recent years, the lingering instability in the Middle East has been having a negative impact on energy security in the EU, and the situation in North Africa is developing in the same way. The occupation of Iraq led to a significant decrease in oil production; at present, less than half of the previous volumes are produced there. Furthermore, even if the occupation troops are withdrawn from Iraq, the situation is unlikely to improve: the probability of domestic political conflicts due to the acute contradictions among the Kurds, Sunnis, and Shi‘ites, including regarding control over oil fields, is too high. The situation in North Africa is developing along similar lines: the halting of gas deliveries and cutback in oil deliveries from 1.6 million barrels a day to a symbolic 100,000 barrels is the price that Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 85 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION has been paid for Colonel Qaddafi’s removal from power. Furthermore, as in Iraq, restoring production to the previous level can only be counted on in the very distant future. Another negative factor for European energy security was the accident at Japan’s Fukushima-1 Nuclear Power Plant in the spring of 2011. Japan was forced to augment its consumption of liquefied gas under emergency conditions, which led to a significant rise in the price of LNG in the world market. However, the accident had consequences that were much more far-reaching for Europe’s nuclear power industry, which in recent years had been considered the most important component of the EU’s energy security. However, after the accident at Fukushima-1, the EU states declared their intention to put a complete halt to the production of nuclear energy, which is automatically leading to an increase in demand for oil and gas.

Russia’s Role

The new challenges to the European Union’s energy security could have a significant influence on the nature of and prospects for its relations with the South Caucasian states and the Russian Fed- eration. The future prospects for South Caucasian energy transit largely depend on the direction in which relations between the European Union and Russian Federation develop. The EU is Russia’s largest partner, the current share of which accounts for around half of its foreign trade turnover. En- ergy resources and their primary processing products still constitute Russia’s main export items to Europe. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, energy cooperation between Russia and the EU was greatly complicated by dependence on transit states. Due to the aggravated problems of energy transit, the Russian government made a decision to diversify the transportation routes of Russian energy resources to the world markets as quickly as possible by building new pipelines along the bottom of the Baltic and Black seas that bypassed the transit states. The total capacity of the North and South Streams and Blue Stream 29 will make it possible to deliver more than 100 billion cubic meters of gas a year to the European markets. This redistribution of export energy flows will help to resolve the problem of gas transit and ensure the reliability of Russian deliveries to Europe. Cooperation among Russia, Germany, Holland, and France made it possible to implement the North Stream project, which links up the Russian and European gas transportation systems, in a short time. On 8 November, 2011, Russia began delivering gas to Europe via this pipeline, which has the capacity to pump 55 billion cubic meters a year. There are plans to launch the Russian-Italian-French- German South Stream project with a capacity of 63 billion cubic meters a year in 2015.10 Russia’s energy policy is based on the conviction that the demand for gas and other energy resources in Europe (and in the world as a whole) will keep on rising, which meets the interests of the exporter countries. This is particularly advantageous for Russia, which is one of the main world ex- porters of oil and has the largest proven gas reserves in the world (more than 50 trillion cubic meters).11 Active geological exploration and the development of hydrocarbon production on the Arctic shelf, as well as at the Yamal and Shtokman fields, will make it possible for Russia to expand its raw material base even more in the near future. Furthermore this expansion is to be implemented along with the introduction of contemporary environmentally friendly and resource-saving technology, including developing the production of liquefied gas.

9 Blue Stream 2 envisages building a new branch of the gas pipeline parallel to Blue Stream, gas transportation infrastructure in Turkey and then an offshore gas pipeline in the direction of Israel. Implementation of the project will make it possible to increase the capacity of the gas pipeline to 16 billion cubic meters of gas a year, available at [http://ria.ru/ economy/20090326/166112177.html]. 10 [http://www.rosbalt.ru/business/2012/02/29/951650.html]. 11 [http://www.ria.ru/economy/20120323/604114251.html]. 86 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Russia is too keen on exporting its own energy resources to the world markets to show an interest in obtaining income by using its gas pipelines to transit raw material from other states. According to the statements of official Gazprom representatives, the company is planning to deliver only its own gas via the South Stream gas pipeline: “The route is being planned based on our own capabilities, so only Gazprom gas will be pumped via the pipeline.”12 The European Union countries regard Russia as their main energy supplier. But many of them are in favor of diversifying deliveries as much as possible, transferring to shale gas and alternative energy sources, and so on, in order to avoid excessive dependence on one or several suppliers. So they are not always receptive to Russia’s striving to increase its deliveries of energy resources to Europe. Energy cooperation with Russia is being vehemently discussed in the European Union by those who are for and against it. Its supporters point to the economic advantages to be gained from cooperation with Russia, while its opponents are concerned about the possible negative consequences of Europe’s excessive dependence on the “authoritarian Kremlin that suffers from imperial ambitions.” Those opposed to cooperation with Russia suggest placing the main emphasis on substituting deliveries from other countries for Russian oil and gas, as well as on replacing hydrocarbons with other energy resources. Several years ago, great hopes were placed on lunar helium-3, a substance with unique properties. Then shale gas, which could radically change the situation in the world energy resource markets and ensure the European Union energy independence, became the target of euphoria. As with helium-3, there are many reasons for casting aspersions on this kind of euphoria. How- ever, regardless of how justified the hopes of shale gas enthusiasts are, Moscow can no longer ignore the possibility that its energy deliveries to the European Union countries will decrease. The Russian authorities must take into account the possible negative consequences of their excessive dependence on the main consumer of Russian energy resources. In recent years, they have repeatedly stated the need to diversify Russia’s energy deliveries by increasing the volume sent in the southerly and east- erly directions. Increasing the production of liquefied gas (greater attention will be given to this as the Russian leadership rids itself of its narrow pipeline thinking) will also help to overcome Russia’s excessive dependence on the European market. Europe is not entirely happy about the growing diversification of Russia’s energy deliveries, although technically speaking Russia is satisfying the Europeans’ long- time desire to lower their consumption of Russian oil and gas.

Prospects for South Caucasian Energy Transit

The tense situation in the world energy market and complicated nature of energy cooperation between Russia and the European Union are raising the EU’s interest in increasing energy deliveries via the South Caucasian energy corridor. At present, several alternatives for transporting Caspian gas to the European markets are being discussed. The future prospects for the Southern Caucasus are largely related to which of these alternatives will be put into practice. The most ambitious is the Nabucco project for delivering Azerbaijani and Turkmen gas. It presupposes building a Trans-Caspian gas pipeline with a capacity of up to 50 billion cubic meters a year (the annual pumping volume was earlier planned at a level of 16 or 32 billion cubic meters). Turkmen- istan has already expressed its willingness to pump up to 40 billion cubic meters of gas annually via Nabucco.13

12 [http://www.oilru.com/news/272923/]. 13 [http://www.nabucco.ge/cgi-bin/news/news.cgi?id=EkApEAZyZpaieGdSLG]. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 87 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

If this amount is added to the volumes of Azerbaijan’s deliveries announced for the future, the share of Caspian gas in the European energy market might constitute more than 10% of the EU’s predicted needs (610-640 billion cubic meters). If all of this gas is used to replace Russian gas, the share of the latter in the European market will significantly drop (from the current more than 40% to less than one third of the total volume). However, this is unlikely to happen: Nabucco’s objective is to diversify deliveries and not to squeeze Russian gas out of the European market (which is unrealistic anyway). And the EU’s excessive dependence on new supplier and transit countries of Caspian gas might not meet Europe’s energy security interests. Turkey and Azerbaijan may try to use their new gas trump cards in a dialog with the European Union on such problems as Turkey’s accession to the EU and on the Palestinian, Karabakh, Cyprian, and other problems. If Europe recovers from the economic crisis, it is more likely that deliveries of Caspian gas will be used to meet the growing demand and compensate for dwindling deliveries as the fields in Algeria and the North Sea become depleted. In this event, even if the share of Russian gas in the European market decreases, this decrease will be extremely small. If the economic crisis continues, however, and the demand for energy resources in Europe drops, this could lead to an extremely significant decrease in energy deliveries to Europe, which will also hinder the possibility of funding new expensive energy projects. The initial projected cost of the Nabucco gas pipeline has risen from 7.9 billion to 12-15 billion. Recently, a sum of 24-26 billion was quoted, which is 4 times higher than the initial estimates, whereby the matter concerns a pipeline of 28-32 billion cubic meters in capacity.14 This capacity will not be enough for even pumping the volumes of Azerbaijani gas declared for export to Europe in the future. If we add the 40 billion cubic meters of Turkmen gas declared for Nabucco, it becomes obvious that the pipeline’s capacity should be doubled, at least. At the same time, the capacity of the Nabucco section along the Baku-Tbilisi-Erzurum route will also have to be increased 2-3-fold. But even in this case, Nabucco will not be able to pump the entire volume of declared deliveries from the Caspian region to Europe. So it stands to reason that at present, in addition to Nabucco, other projects for delivering Cas- pian gas to Europe are being developed. They include the Southeast Europe gas pipeline from Turkey to Bulgaria, Rumania, and Hungary and the AGRI project, which presupposes transporting Azerbai- jani gas by pipeline to the Georgian ports on the Black Sea, where it will be liquefied and delivered by liquefied gas carriers to Rumania. Delayed implementation of the Nabucco project, as well as its nebulous prospects have led to Azerbaijan and Turkey proposing their own less ambitious, but easier to implement Trans-Anatolia pipeline project (TANAP). In October 2011, the SOCAR and Turkey’s state energy company Botaº came to terms on building a new gas pipeline from the east to the western border of Turkey. It is to transport Azerbaijani gas to Rumania, Croatia, Hungary, and Bulgaria. The Trans-Anatolia gas pipeline, which will have a capacity of 35 billion cubic meters a year, will cost approximately $5 billion to build. There are plans to pump 16-24 billion cubic meters of gas at the initial stage and later bring the volume up to 35 billion cubic meters with a potential increase to 60 billion.15 The gas pipeline should go into operation in 2017. Despite the growing competition from liquefied and shale gas, pipeline gas is retaining its vital role in ensuring Europe’s energy security. Pipeline gas continues to be competitive for environmental reasons and owing to the long-term guarantee of delivery volumes under contracts. It is obvious that without these deliveries it will be impossible to ensure Europe’s energy security in the foreseeable future.

14 [http://top.rbc.ru/economics/24/10/2011/621790.shtml]. 15 [http://ru.reuters.com/article/businessNews/idRURXE7BP0DR20111226]. 88 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

The interest of energy consumer countries in diversifying deliveries and the interest of exporter countries in increasing the number of countries consuming their energy resources are dictated by the desire to avoid excessive dependence on one or several suppliers or consumers. At the same time, supplier states and consumer countries are interested in overcoming excessive dependence on transit countries. Energy exporter countries and transit countries have different interests, so conflicts between them are inevitable. The conflicts can become acute, but a compromise can be reached if the sides so desire. If, however, the exporter country (the RF, Azerbaijan, Turkmenistan) and transit country (Ukraine, Poland, the Baltic states, Turkey, the RF) are unable to find a mutually acceptable solution, the energy suppliers are forced to look for and establish new delivery routes that bypass the problematic states. This leads to rising diversification of energy corridors. Compared with Turkey, Ukraine, Georgia, and other energy transit countries, Russia is the most problematic and specific partner, since it is both the largest energy supplier and a transit country at once. So the Russian Federation is interested not so much in obtaining revenue from transiting as much energy as possible through its territory (it is too insignificant compared with the revenue from energy export) as in reducing competition from other producers in the European market, which is the main one for Russian resources. This will be conducive to turning the Southern Caucasus into a transit region for delivering the Caspian’s energy resources to Europe. However, if the most optimistic forecasts about the future increase in oil and gas production in Azerbaijan are justified, its interest in energy transit to Europe through its territory from Central Asia could significantly decrease or disappear altogether. Azeri experts are already pointing this out, as well as indicating the potential problems associated with the TCG: “Transit payments are not so important for us. We also realize that Turkmen gas in the Turkish market will only raise competition over Azerbaijani gas. We have absolutely no need for the additional headache aggravated relations with Moscow and Tehran over the Trans-Caspian pipeline will create.”16 It is neither possible, nor expedient to implement all the projects proposed for delivering energy resources from Azerbaijan and Central Asia to Europe through the Southern Caucasus. The most realizable, least expensive, and most economically lucrative of them must be determined. There is no point in counting on a change in Russia’s and Iran’s negative attitude toward building the Trans-Caspian gas pipeline, which, moreover, is extremely expensive, in the near (or the distant) future. Russia’s and Iran’s active opposition, if it does not thwart this project entirely, will at least delay the construction time and increase the expenses even more. An acute conflict with Russia over the TCG will aggravate the contradictions within the European Union, which could have a negative effect on Europe’s energy security and complicate drawing up a coordinated energy policy and further EU integration. Sending liquefied natural gas from Turkmenistan to Europe through the Southern Caucasus and Black Sea appears to be the most advantageous and realizable solution. Arranging deliveries of liquefied gas to Europe from Turkmenistan will not arouse such active protest from Russia and Iran as the TCG project, since in that case the unsettled status of the Caspian will not hamper implementation of the project.

16 [http://www.fergananews.com/article.php?id=7100]. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 89 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

GEOCULTURE

Elmir GULIEV

Ph.D. (Philos.), Director of the Department of Geoculture at the Institute of Strategic Studies of the Caucasus (Baku, Azerbaijan).

THE FUTURE OF RELIGION IN THE CENTRAL CAUCASUS: FROM THE SOVIET UNION’S DISINTEGRATION TO THE NEW CAUCASIAN POLICY

Abstract

his article presents an analysis of the re- and cultural policies at the national and re- T ligious and religious-political processes gional levels and concentrates on the specif- taking place in post-Soviet Azerbaijan, ics of the separation of religion from the state Georgia, and Armenia. The author draws on in each of the three countries; he predicts a vast amount of factual material to assess the future relations between the state and the impact of religion on the political, social, religion within the regional political context.

Introduction

Wedged between Europe and Asia, between the East Christian civilization and the Islamic world, the Central Caucasus1 is home to dozens of nationalities and ethnicities who speak different

1 According to the division of the Caucasian region suggested by Eldar Ismailov, prominent Azeri scholar and Di- rector of the Institute of Strategic Studies of the Caucasus, Azerbaijan, Georgia, and Armenia should be described as the 90 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION languages and profess different religions. Very similar and very different at one and the same time, these peoples learned to live side by side amid the never-ending rivalry over self-assertion and supe- riority and incessant efforts to establish political stability and consistent military-political, trade, and economic ties with their strong neighbors. Today, the political establishments of Azerbaijan, Georgia, and Armenia are looking for a reliable partner (the United States) to disentangle themselves from Russia’s geopolitical lead. All of them want to “open a window to Europe:” this is their main geopolitical vector. This is not as easy as it sounds because of the fierce political rivalry among the three states; there are too many clashing external interests in the region pursued by the states on different sides of the civilizational split. Russia’s territorial integrity and its claims to a Great-Power status depend on its continued geopolitical influence in the region. The United States and its West European partners regard the Central Caucasus as a transport corridor between Europe and Central Asia which buries Russia’s transit monopoly. Iran and Turkey, locked in centuries-long rivalry over leadership in the Muslim ummah, are competing for geopolitical ascendancy in the region and a greater share in global projects. The Great-Power rivalry over the “Eurasian Balkans” (to borrow an apt formula from Brzezin- ski) is fanned by the prospect of the region’s involvement in drawing up a political map of the Greater Middle East. Inside the region, ethnic contradictions and resentments inherited from the past and transformed into territorial claims, as well as different confessions which change the nature of ethnic conflicts and affect the geopolitical balance, never let the tension subside. Today, very much as in the past, the religious aspect figures prominently in regional policy. In the past, it even prevailed over the ethnic factor and economic interests. For example, after ascending to the Caucasian Albania throne, King Vachagan III the Pious (487-510) plunged into a “cruel and uncompromising struggle” against the Zoroastrians and pagans to unite the people around the Alba- nian Church.2 Later, in the 15th and 16th centuries, the religious factor played an important role in the fates of the Turkic tribes of Azerbaijan: they joined ranks under the Shi‘a slogans to put the Safavid dynasty on the throne. Christianity largely affected the political preferences of the Georgian rulers who invariably sought first Byzantine’s and later Russia’s support when going to war against the neighboring Muslim states. The Armenian settlers in the Caucasus exploited their spiritual closeness with Russia to fill administrative posts and ensure its military support and imperial resources to pursue their own ethnic and cultural interests.3 Today, however, the foreign policy of the Central Caucasian states is much less affected by the religious factor, even though politicians exploit it for lobbying the interests of their states in regional and international organizations. The ethnic conflicts in Nagorno-Karabakh and Abkhazia remained free from religious overtones despite the efforts of certain external forces. In the post-Soviet period, however, the nature of religious feelings in the region changed considerably, while the share of religious factors in domestic policy increased. In the last twenty years, external forces have learned to use religion as a vehicle of their political and cultural impact in the region, therefore its present and future role in the region should not be underestimated. Here I intend to reveal the nature of the religious processes in the Central Caucasus and assess their effect on the regional political and economic projects and on the development of sociocultural and political contacts between the Central Caucasus and the entities of world and regional politics.

Central, rather than Southern Caucasus. This means that Turkey’s ils, which border on the three states, belong to the Southwestern Caucasus, while the northwestern ostans of Iran are part of the Southeastern Caucasus. This approach fully fits the “three plus three” model of political and economic integration of the Caucasus: the three states of the Central Cau- casus and the neighboring regional powers—Russia, Turkey, and Iran (for more detail, see: E. Ismailov, “New Regional- ism in the Caucasus: A Conceptual Approach,” The Caucasus & Globalization, Vol. 1 (1), 2006). 2 See: Hieromonach Alexy (Nikonorov), Istoria khristianstva v Kavkazskoy Albanii, available at [http://baku. eparhia.ru/history/albania/christianity/vachagan 111/]. 3 See: S.V. Lurye, Istoricheskaia etnologia, available at [http://www.gumer.info/bibliotek_Buks/History/Lyrie/ 67.php]. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 91 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION Relations between the State and Religion: Twenty Years of Religious Freedom

After acquiring their sovereignty, the three Central Caucasian states opted for a secular and democratic road. Early in the 1990s, the landmarks of their independent development remained unclear: together with social ideals, which were transformed beyond recognition, society lost its social and cultural principles and found itself immersed in unrestrained permissibility. “Soviet” man was exposed to a crisis of identity: practically all the social categories by means of which the Soviet people identified themselves and their place in society lost their boundaries and value.4 After being dis- carded, communist ideas about the world (in which religious ethics had been replaced with the allegedly natural norms of behavior) left a void that was promptly filled with religious and quasi-religious teachings. Under the pressure of vehement public censure of atheism, politicians and public figures (sometimes contrary to their atheist convictions) had to feign religiosity. On the other hand, liberalization of social and economic relations bared the solitude of man in the contemporary world and gave rise to moral nihilism, which challenged religion as a form of world perception. Having failed to rally the nations around a single cultural and political dominant, the ruling elites produced divided societies. Intensive global exchange, which at the turn of the 21st century reached the Caucasus, interfered with the creation of large and closely knit ethnocultural communities. In other words, the post-Soviet societies were drawn into social stratification in which religion was one of the main factors. The traditional religious institutions acquired a historic chance to recapture their lost influence and move to the frontline of national construction. The traditional clergy, however, proved to be easily scared by the prospect of an open society and unhampered competition with other confessions perceived as a threat to their social status and religious specifics. Afraid of the changes and unprepared for an open dialog, the clergy preferred the role of a pillar of national traditions, very much approved by a large part of society. Meanwhile, the social expanse of the post-Soviet states proved attractive for non-traditional trends, syncretic and universalist sects, psychotherapeutic and neo-pagan cults. They thrived on the mistrust of the official clergy and their failure to adjust to the changed sociocultural conditions to profess social and religious protest at least among certain social groups. The content and social atti- tudes of these religions, as well as their perception of the social and political order, their active God- seeking, and their high level of social involvement kept them apart from the dominant confessions. They know how to instill positive emotions and confidence in their adepts, who do not hesitate to break with the past, get rid of drug addiction, bad habits, etc. The urgency of the problems which the new religions successfully address and the methods they employ give them a huge advantage over the dominant traditions which, while protecting order, call for patience and humility. Young people are especially lured to the liberal Protestant churches that easily adjust to the changing conditions, close their eyes to violations of ethical norms, and combine religious service with elements of grass-roots culture. At the turn of the century, the confrontation between traditional and non-traditional religiosity stirred up disagreements over the meaning of spiritual traditions, the limits of religious freedom, the threats of cultural globalization, etc. Today, the Central Caucasian states are looking for ways and means to play down the disagreements between the official clergy and non-traditional trends to add legitimacy to the hegemony of the former and somehow quench the protest zeal of the latter. This

4 See: G.M. Andreeva, Psikhologiia sotsialnogo poznania, Aspekt Press, Moscow, 2000, p. 187. 92 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION makes the official attitude to the non-traditional faiths an indicator of sorts of the democratic changes in society. In fact, an analysis of common trends in the interaction among confessions in Azerbaijan, Georgia, and Armenia may help predict the region’s political and social-cultural future.

Azerbaijan: Secular State vs. Political Islam

In Azerbaijan, the government prefers to remain equidistant from all confessional groups and religious associations. The Law on Freedom of Religion (adopted in 1992; revised in 2009) does not allow the state to interfere in the internal affairs of communities or shift the functions of any of the branches of power onto them. Religious figures cannot be involved in political activities or fund political parties. If elected or appointed to any state post, members of the clergy must suspend their religious activities. Strict adherence to the secular model of state organization presupposes that freedom of conscience and freedom of religion are realized with due account of the diversity of religious forms and create favorable conditions for “positive and non-conflict development of religious life in the country and stronger stability of Azerbaijan society.”5 In the 1990s, liberal religious legislation and the state, which distanced itself from the religious sphere, allowed missionaries of all hues to come to Azerbaijan and stir up a lot of interest in their cultic practices. Guided from abroad and in many cases enjoying diplomatic support, some of the communities promoted views and ideas which destroyed the country’s social structure. Burdened with economic and social problems caused by the decline of the Soviet economy and Armenian occupation, the state had no choice but to ignore minor religious conflicts; it moved forward to cut short abuse of religious freedom by political forces, totalitarian sects, and extremist groups.6 To be more exact, the government responded to the religious renaissance with a wait-and-see policy. Religious trends of all sorts capitalized on this to realize their latent potential and demonstrate their compatibil- ity (or incompatibility) with the social-cultural milieu. In recent years the situation has changed dramatically; the state’s political priorities have become much clearer: satisfaction of the spiritual needs of society; confessional harmony; and protection of the religious sphere against destructive foreign influences. Much is being done to organize religious enlightenment on a mass scale and competitive professional religious education. So far, the results leave much to be desired, yet the state tries to add creativity to the religious processes. With this aim in view, the Law on Freedom of Religion was amended: Muslim religious rites and ceremonies were entrusted to citizens of Azerbaijan educated inside the country. In August 2009, the Baku Islamic University (founded in 1991 as the Baku Islamic Institute and re- named a university in 1997) received a license for educational activities in the sphere of higher professional training. This was a great step forward: from that time on students and masters have been enrolled on the strength of a standard test supervised by a state commission; the graduates receive state diplomas. In Azerbaijan, a country with a long history of religious tolerance, the government is prepared to cooperate with the traditional religions present in the country. The head of state repeatedly con-

5 R. Mekhtiev, Na puti k demokratii: razmyshleniia o nasledii, ªdrq-Qdrb (East-West), Baku, 2007, p. 585. 6 This is related, for example, to the fact that in 1995 state registration of the Islamic Party of Azerbaijan was annulled; in May 1996, its leaders were arrested; in April 1997, they were convicted of cooperating with the Iranian special services. In April 1996, Azerbaijan intercepted the separatist activities of a citizen of Russia who called for an independent Lezghian Islamic State to be set up in an area between the borders of Azerbaijan and Daghestan. In 2000, leaders of the extremist Islamic group Jeyshullakh (The Army of Allah) were arrested and later convicted of several grave crimes. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 93 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION firms this in his addresses to the religious communities on the occasion of Muslim, Christian, and Jewish holydays; the state and the Heydar Aliev Foundation finance reconstruction and restoration of religious buildings; the country’s authorities create favorable conditions for the development of cultures, languages, and religions of the ethnic minorities. The country’s confessional makeup (Muslims account for about 96% of the total population) calls for greater attention to the Muslim community. The officially registered Muslim communities are united under the Administration of the Mus- lims of the Caucasus (AMC). The Law on Freedom of Religion describes the AMC, set up in 1872 by a decree of the emperor of Russia, as the “historical center” of the country’s Muslims. Some of the religious figures and human rights activists, however, disagree with this as a vestige of the imperial system no longer compatible with the demands of the time.7 The latest amendments passed in June 2011 confirmed the status of the Muslim’s religious center: from that time on, Muslim communities should not only be registered on the strength of their written applications to the AMC, they may only start functioning when the AMC appoints their heads (Art 12). While the public finds it hard to agree with the AMC’s status, the structure itself is working toward religious harmony in the region. For fifteen years now, its Chairman Sheikh ul Islam Al- lahshukur Pashazade has been working hard to tap the potential of people’s diplomacy for settlement of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict; he believes that religious leaders should be actively involved in peacekeeping. In April 2008, he, together with Patriarch of Moscow and All Russia Alexy II, suggested that a Consultative Religious Council be set up at the U.N. to ensure active cooperation between religious structures and peacekeepers. Despite the international prestige and international activities of its chairman, the AMC remains passive inside the country. Executive and judicial structures tend to ignore its opinion when dealing with the Muslim community, a fact amply confirmed by the judicial decisions on the removal of two half-ready mosques in the Surakhan and Yasamal districts of Baku; in August 2009, at the 12th AMC Congress, Sheikh ul Islam Pashazade criticized the decisions of the district courts.8 In an effort to improve the situation the AMC leaders have recently been concentrating on religious enlightenment and a more effective personnel policy: today, they prefer to hire young theologians the faithful know well and respect. The positions of official Islam in Azerbaijan are contested by Shi‘a pro-Iranian communities; orthodox Sunni Salafis, Nursists (followers of theologian Said Nursi of Kurdish Turkish origins who died in 1960), and Sufi Tariqats. Among the latter, followers of Naqshbandi Sheikh Osman Nuri Topbaº (Turkey) are especially active in the capital and elsewhere in the country, while the followers of Avar Sheikh Sayid-afandi Chirkeevsky (Daghestan) teach in the country’s northern and northwestern regions among the followers of Naqshbandiyya, Shaziliyya, and Jazuliyya. The Tabligh Jamaat movement, which in the middle 1990s actively promoted spiritual liberation and asceticism, has lost practically all its followers and, along with them, its former impact. The non-traditional non-Islamic religious trends are represented by Protestant churches (Bap- tists, Seventh-Day Adventists, Pentecostals, and Jehovah’s Witnesses), the Roman Catholic Church, the Krishna Conscience Movement, and the Bahais.9 Society is concerned about proselytism of the

7 See: Interview of Chairman of the Center for the Protection of Freedom of Conscience and Confession DE- VAMM I. Ibrahimoglu to the Novosti-Azerbaijan Agency of 9 September, 2008, available at [http://www.newsazerbaijan.ru/ exclusive/20080909/42476974.html]. 8 See: Zerkalo, 13 August, 2009. 9 The friendly relations among the leaders of the AMC, the Baku and the Caspian Eparchy and the community of the mountain Jews of Azerbaijan created the impression that the Shi‘a (Jafarite) and Sunni (Shafi‘i and Hanafi) madhhabs, Christian Orthodoxy, and Judaism are typical of Azerbaijan. The official visit of Pope John Paul II to Azerbaijan on 22-23 May, 2002 created the impression that the Roman Catholic Church had deep roots in the country; recently, it has been enjoying much more attention than before. At the same time, some of the Protestant churches (Baptists and Lutherans) which, like Catholics, arrived in Azerbaijan in the 19th century, also want to be counted among the traditional religions. 94 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Protestant and neo-Hindu trends10; their adepts are not ostracized, however their refusal to accept national cultural and historical traditions causes social conflicts. Some of the Christian groups support Armenians as fellow Christians and hold a special position on the Azeri-Armenian conflict. In this way they stand opposed to the dominant social-cultural paradigm.11 In the last two decades, the non-traditional and independent religious communities have expanded their social base. While the official clergy has done practically nothing to revive the spiritual health of the nation and consolidate it, independent missionaries (many of them were citizens of Az- erbaijan educated abroad) have been displaying much more vigor in proselytizing. With no state support and no sympathy among the official religious figures, they inevitably run into legal and organizational problems which add to their popularity and increase the number of their followers and sympa- thizers. Today, the situation is fairly contradictory: independent missionaries exploit the freedom of religion and religious tolerance and feel free to disregard the social consequences of their sermons. In the mid-1990s, people were concerned about family conflicts or conflicts at work; recently attempts have been made to use religion for criminal purposes. On 17 August, 2008, an explosion in the Juma, also known as the Abu Bakr mosque (Narimanov District of Baku), killed two citizens of Azerbaijan. The response was prompt: activities in the mosque, the main seat of ideological confrontation between the moderate Salafis headed by imam Süleymanov and the radical Sunni wing, Kharijites, were suspended by a court decision. To prevent religious intolerance, the government took resolute measures to cut short violations of the freedom of religion. Stricter control over the religious situation resulted in the removal of two “illegally built” mosques, which raised a wave of public discontent. The authorities of the Surakhani District in Baku intended to pull down another incomplete mosque in the Yeni Gunesli settlement; the tug-of-war which went on for nearly twelve months caused the indignation of several prominent spiritual leaders in Iran. The AMC chairman had to register the mosque.12 Between 2009 and 2011, the Law on Freedom of Religion was amended by the Milli Mejlis of Azerbaijan to minimize foreign influence on the religious life inside the country and tighten punishment for illegal religious activities. The Criminal and the Administrative codes were amended ac- cordingly, yet problems in religious life persisted; on the eve of the 2012 Eurovision Song Contest, an armed group was arrested on the suspicion of planned terrorist acts in several locations, including mosques and other places of worship.13 This cost Chairman of the State Committee for Work with Religious Organizations Hidayat Orujov his post: he was replaced with Elshad Iskandarov, an experienced politician and diplomat with perfect knowledge of the Islamic world.

In the past, followers of the Albanian Apostolic Church lived in the territory of Azerbaijan. Today Udins follow their religious and cultural traditions. Molokans, “spiritual Christians” who moved to the Transcaucasia in the 1830s under a decree of Nicholas I, have been living in Azerbaijan for nearly two centuries now. Bahaism arrived in Azerbaijan at almost the same time as Mirza Husayn ‘Ali (Baha-ulla) proclaimed himself in 1863 to be “Promised One.” I count these groups among the non-traditional religions because they follow special religious forms different from those which dominate Azeri society today. 10 The report of the U.S. Department of State on Freedom of Religion in Azerbaijan in 2008 pointed out that society was prejudiced against those who change their faith, missionaries, and pro-Iranian and “Wahhabi” groups. They are all regarded as a threat to political stability and religious harmony (see: Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights, and Labor, U.S. Department of State, International Religious Freedom Report 2008: Azerbaijan (2008), available at [http://www. state.gov/g/drl/rls/irf/2008/108435.htm]). 11 See: M. Quluzadd, “Dinimizi qorumaq hamýmýzýn borcudur,” Dövldt vd din. Ýctimai fikir toplusu, No. 1 (5), 2008, S. 54 (M. Quluzade, “Protection of Religion is a Duty of Everybody,” The State and Religion, Collection, No. 1 (5), 2008, p. 54). 12 See: Mediaforum.az, 17 May, 2010, available at [http://www.mediaforum.az/az/2010/05/17/PREZÝDENTÝN- FATÝMEYÝ-ZcHRA-McSCÝDÝ-ÝLc-BAÐLI-TAPÞIRIÐINA-045321821c00.html]. 13 See: Statement of the Ministry of National Security of Azerbaijan Republic, 30 May, 2012, available at [http:// www.mns.gov.az/az/news/341.html]. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 95 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

In these conditions, the future of relations between the state and religion in Azerbaijan remains dim. The government demonstrates its readiness to talk to all religious associations loyal to the states’ secular principles and respecting the spiritual and moral traditions of the peoples of Azerbaijan. The rulers, however, are fully aware of the fact that the state’s religious policy and wider contacts with the main confessions should not infringe on the freedom of conscience and religion. This explains why the authorities demonstrate restraint and adequacy when dealing with the independent and non-traditional communities. Today, it is more or less clear that the religious permissiveness of the last decade of the 20th century will not return. Liberalization of the religious sphere might strengthen independent Muslim communities, which frequently produce independent radical groups. Liberalization might transform Muslim associations into religious-political communities and add to their political weight. This, in turn, will fortify the positions of Iran and Turkey and weaken the positions of Russia, the West, and Israel, which will hardly accept this. The fears that politicization of Islam in Azerbaijan will destabilize the political situation in the region are well justified. On the other hand, the leaders of Azerbaijan will hardly place their stakes on limiting religious freedom so as not to undermine the course toward democratic changes and the trust of the democratic institutions in the people in power. Any attempts to stem the natural transition from atheist ideology to traditional spirituality will encourage corruption, devalue moral values, and destroy the national idea. This is not all: pushed aside the religious opposition might become fertile soil for the ideology of religious extremism. Stronger state control over the religious sphere, support of the traditional confessions, encouragement of the inter-religious dialog, and creation of better conditions for religious enlightenment are the right answers to the current problems. However, any democratic state that decides to rely on the traditional religions should take into account the degree of their correspondence with the requirements of social development. Traditionalist teachings keep society together in the face of social up- heavals, although they hardly meet the needs of the rapidly developing societies oriented toward ab- sorbing and mastering progressive ideas and technologies. There are religious figures and theologians among the clergy who, while disagreeing on what can be accepted as an adequate scope of reform, know that the religious traditions “ossified” in certain respects should be critically reassessed. Influ- ential Azeri politicians are also involved in the discussions of modernization of Islam. So far, the Muslim community has not adjusted itself to the idea of reforms; this means that the future of religion in Azerbaijan and its social role largely depends on whether spiritual leaders will create modernization mechanisms and transform the religious institutions into vehicles of progressive ideas and mod- erators of public consciousness.

Georgia: Between the Liberal Project and Orthodox Nationalism

Unlike in Azerbaijan where religious communities have been pushed to the fringes of society, in Georgia, the Orthodox Church plays an important role in social and political life. In the latter half of the 1990s, when Georgia lived through an abysmal political, social, and economic crisis, the Georgian Orthodox Church (GOC) did a lot to unify the country spiritually and politically. Even though the Church failed to completely restore its authority undermined in the Soviet period, Georgian politicians and public figures developed the habit of demonstrating their religious feelings. On 30 March, 2001, the Georgian parliament passed a Constitutional Law which stressed the GOC’s “exceptional historical role” and stipulated the possibility of concluding a concordat between the Church and the 96 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION state. On 14 October, 2002, a Constitutional Agreement appeared between the State of Georgia and the Georgian Apostolic Autocephalous Orthodox Church, which was practically ratified by the parliament. Georgia was the first among the Soviet successor-states to regulate relations between the state and a religious association by means of a Constitutional agreement. Under the Concordat, the state recognized the GOC as a legal entity of public law acting in the interests of the whole of Georgian society; the Church and top figures received certain privileges: the Catholicos-Patriarch was granted immunity; the top figures were relieved from conscription; under Art II, priests were obliged to keep secret the information they acquired during confession. According to the memorandum signed in March 2010 by the Public Prosecutor Office of Georgia, the Georgian Patriarchate, and the Ministry of Correction and Legal Assistance, convicts recommended by the Patriarchate are to serve their terms in monasteries rather than in prisons. The state recognizes marriages concluded by the Orthodox Church and pledges to create an institution of priests in military units, prisons, and detention centers. The GOC enjoys wide rights in education: secondary schools offer optional courses in Christian Orthodoxy; under Art V of the Concordat, the GOC is responsible for the curriculum and personnel policy. The Church is partly funded from the state budget, which contains a corresponding item.14 It enjoys tax preferences and special property rights. Under Arts VII and VIII, the state recognized the Church as the owner of all Orthodox churches, monasteries, ruins, and corresponding landed plots as well as church treasuries protected by the state (with the exception of those privately owned). Church property is inalienable and exempt from land and property taxes. Art XI said that the state acknowledged “the material and moral damage to the Church” incurred during the period of lost independence (the 19th and 20th centuries) and pledged to partially compensate for the losses.15 In recent years, the Tbilisi-based building of the former spiritual seminary (which cost 26 million lari, or about $17.6 million), a plot of land (4 thousand sq m), and a building with a total floor space of 4,600 sq m (8 million lari, or about $5.4 million) were returned to the Georgian Patriarchate. It also received the grounds and a building adjacent to the Sioni Cathedral in Tbilisi, 279 hectares of forests in the Dedoplistskaro District (Eastern Georgia), and land in various settlements.16 This means that under the Concordat, the GOC acquired numerous advantages of which other confessions (including the large communities of Muslims, Catholics, and Armenians) are deprived. The status of a legal entity of public law17 allows the GOC to engage, under state control, in political, state, social, educational, cultural, and other types of public activities. Under Art 1509 of the Civil Code of Georgia of 1997, all religious associations identified as legal entities of public law are enti- tled to similar rights. The Law on Legal Entities of Public Law of 1999, however, did not envisage the registration procedure for religious associations. This means that all other confessions could not enter into legal relations with the state. In April 2005, Art 1509 of the Civil Code was amended, which allowed religious organizations to be registered as non-profit legal entities of private law. Several religious associations, the Armenian Apostolic Church in Georgia, the Roman Catholic Church in Geor- gia, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Georgia, and the Baptist Church in Georgia among them, refused to be satisfied: they demanded either a Law on Religious Associations (there is no such or similar law in Georgia), or simple (not constitutional) agreements between the state and all religious organizations without exception.18

14 See: Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights, and Labor, U.S. Department of State, International Religious Free- dom Report 2010: Georgia (July-December), available at [http://www.state.gov/j/drl/rls/irf/2010_5/168312.htm]. 15 For the full text in English, see official web-site of the Patriarchate of Georgia, available at [http://www. patriarchate.ge/_en/?action=eklesia-saxelmcifo]. 16 See: Interfax Agency, 28 March, 2008, available at [http://religion.customers.ru/gry/?act=news&div=23608]. 17 Georgian laws distinguish between legal entities of private and public law. The legal status of legal entities of public law is regulated not only by the Civil Code, but also by special legal acts. 18 See: Nezavisimaia gazeta, 14 April, 2001. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 97 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Intensive cooperation between the GOC and the government displeases part of the Orthodox community and irritates the liberals. The Concordat was signed at a time when the discredited political leaders were seeking support of the Orthodox community and religious nationalists. The Rose Revolution brought different people with different geopolitical priorities to power. Today, the GOC’s corporate interests no longer coincide with the official course toward stronger democracy and liber- alized religious rules. The Five-Day War further complicated relations between the Georgian Patriarchate and the Georgian political leaders apprehensive of the GOC’s efforts to strengthen spiritual and cultural ties between the peoples of Russia and Georgia as promoting Russia’s interests.19 The Imedi TV channel, likewise, voiced its concerns: “The Georgian Church might be involved in a very dangerous game. It should not be excluded that the Russian forces will use the high authority of our patriarch to whiten their ideological intervention.”20 Similar statements came from the Public Television of Georgia and the Rustavi-2 TV Company. The GOC heads firmly disproved all accusations of promoting interests of a foreign state: while “holding a neutral position about internal political forces, the Patriarchate of Georgia takes active measures as a guarantor of territorial integrity of Georgia and unity of the Geor- gian people in external political process.”21 Despite strong popular support, the Catholicos-Patriarch avoids open confrontation with the president, even though he constantly sides with prominent politicians and public figures potentially able to alter the nature of the presidential reforms. On the eve of the 2007 parliamentary and presidential elections, the Catholicos-Patriarch spoke about monarchic rule for the country under the Bagra- tioni Dynasty22; in November 2011, he suggested that billionaire Bidzina Ivanishvili, an inveterate critic of President Saakashvili, should be returned his Georgian citizenship.23 The authorities, on the other hand, are seeking closer contacts with other confessions. In March 2011, the parliamentary majority represented by the ruling United National Movement Party amended the Civil Code so that all religious organizations—traditional and those with an official status in at least one other country (EU member)—could acquire the status of an entity of public law. The Geor- gian Patriarchate did not like this: so far its exceptional status had allowed it to trim the impact of other churches. It was especially concerned about the prospect of transferring the six disputed churches (so far on the balance of the Ministry of Culture, Protection of Monuments and Sport) to the Arme- nian Apostolic Church (AAC).24 The GOC does not like the attention the Georgian authorities are paying the Muslims and their problems. In February 2012, the Georgian Patriarchate demanded that it be represented at the talks with Turkey on servicing the mosque in Akhaltsikhe and restoring the abd-Aziz Mosque in Batumi.25 In May 2011, when the Administration of the Muslims of Georgia (AMG) was set up, the dialog between the Muslim community of Georgia and the country’s authorities became even more active. The new structure detached itself from the AMK which, until that time, had been the head structure of the Georgian Muslims. In 2005, the AMK resolutely opposed the attempts of certain religious leaders (the heads of the Akhli-beyt and Iman societies among them) to set up an independent religious center: the AMK and Georgian authorities were apprehensive of greater Iranian

19 See: K. Kolodin, “Saakashvili zapisalsia v antiklerikaly,” available at [http://www.izvestia.ru/georgia1/article 3132814/]. 20 Georgia Times, 7 September, 2009, available at [http://www.georgiatimes.info/analysis/20753.html]. 21 Statement of the Georgian Patriarchate of 5 September, 2009, available at [http://www.patriarchate.ge/_en/ ?action=news_show&mode=news&id=98]. 22 [http://www.religare.ru/article46333.htm]. 23 See: Georgia Times. Info, 14 November, 2011, available at [http://www.georgiatimes.info/news/67281.html]. 24 G. Dvali, “Prezident protiv Patriarkha,” Kommersant Ukraina, 7 July, 2011, available at [http://www. kommersant.ua/doc/1674179]. 25 [http://www.rosbalt.ru/exussr/2012/02/10/944205.html]. 98 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION influence.26 The AMG has already been registered with the National Agency of Public Registry and intends to cooperate with the religious and state structures inside the country and outside it. Signif- icantly, in March 2012 by an order of the minister of culture, six mosques received the status of monuments of cultural heritage: obvious recognition of the contribution of the Georgian Muslims to the culture of Georgia. The radical wing of the Orthodox clergy, which carries a lot of weight with the Holy Synod, is the most consistent opponent of the spread of non-Orthodox trends in Georgia. In 1997, under the pressure of Orthodox nationalists, the GOC withdrew from the World Council of Churches and the Conference of European Churches. On 18 August, 2003, the Synod condemned the attempts of the public to interfere in the internal affairs of the Church and warned that the anti-Church activities of the pro-Western liberals “might cause a serious split in society.” The verbatim report of this sitting registered that the Orthodox Christians rejected political, economic, and cultural integration with the West, as well as any forms of dialog with the non-Orthodox confessions and neglect of the church traditions under the pretext of democracy and freedom of speech.27 While the Muslims (mainly Azeris, Ajars, and Kistintsy), the AAC followers (mainly Armeni- ans), Catholics (mainly Georgians and Aysories), Jews and Yezidies are tolerated, non-traditional groups are resolutely rejected, especially by ethnic Georgians. The annual reports of the Public De- fender (Ombudsman) of Georgia, the U.S. Department of State, and international organizations regularly report attacks on members of religious minorities by certain public figures and politicians.28 Schools are not free from religious discrimination either: those students who do not profess Ortho- doxy or refuse to attend history of religion classes are bullied by teachers and classmates.29 Between 1999 and 2004, followers of excommunicated priest Vasily Mkalavishvili caused hav- oc in the country. Despite numerous complaints to the public Prosecutor’s Office, the Orthodox extremist was not arrested until March 2004; he was brought to court and sentenced to six years in prison for inciting violence against minorities, pogroms, beatings-up, and burning non-Orthodox books. In July 2008, on the eve of the war in South Ossetia, he was released and even performed a service in an Orthodox church. Paata Bluashvili, head of the Orthodox Jvari Union accused of religious violence, has been on the run from the Georgian authorities since 2007. In May 2007, the European Human Rights Court in Strasburg recognized numerous violations of the European Human Rights Conven- tion in relation to 97 members of the Gldansk Congregation of the Jehovah’s Witnesses and imposed on Georgia a fine of 41,523 in favor of the aggrieved party.30 According to the Human Rights Department at the Public Prosecutor’s Office of Georgia and the office of the Public Defender of Georgia, which monitor the religious situation in the country, religious discrimination is on the decline. In January 2008, in his second inaugural address President Saakashvili pointed out that religious tolerance should be maintained; the heads of several religious minorities were invited to attend the inauguration ceremony.31 In 2010, the office of the Public De- fender received only seven complaints of religious intolerance.32 In his 2011 report, the Georgian

26 See: C. Prasad, “Georgia’s Muslim Community: A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy?” ECMI Working Paper, No. 58, February 2012, available at [http://www.ecmi.de/uploads/tx_lfpubdb/Working_Paper_58_En.pdf]. 27 See: N.A. Belyakova, “Ocherk religioznoy situatsii v Gruzii,” available at [http://www.ia-centr.ru/archive/ public_details084d.html?id=46]. 28 See, for example: European Commission against Racism and Intolerance, Second Report on Georgia, June 2006, available at [http://hudoc.ecri.coe.int/XMLEcri/ENGLISH/Cycle_03/03_CbC_eng/GEO-CbC-III-2007-2-ENG.pdf]. 29 See: Human Rights Centre, State of Freedom of Religion in Georgia since the Adoption of Constitutional Agree- ment between Government and the Orthodox Church of Georgia, Religious Freedom Report, April 2008, available at [http://www.humanrights.ge/admin/editor/uploads/pdf/ReligionReport.pdf]. 30 [http://www.kavkaz-uzel.ru/newstext/news/id/1185797.html]. 31 See: Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights, and Labor, U.S. Department of State, International Religious Free- dom Report 2008: Georgia (2008), available at [http://www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/irf/2008/108447.htm]. 32 See: Civil Georgia, 4 April, 2011 [http://www.civil.ge/eng/article.php?id=23309&search=] Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 99 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Public Defender pointed out that in the last two years the law-enforcement bodies have been much more responsive to this type of crime and acted much more adequately.33 Religious intolerance in Georgia, however, has not yet been completely eliminated, which means that nationalists and radicals have nothing to fear. It seems that the continued political tension and vague geopolitical prospects do not allow the people in power to openly confront the Georgian Patriarchate, which has a lot of public support behind it. This might change if the presidential team moves ahead in the talks on NATO membership, or if it resolves the ethnopolitical conflicts. The Georgian ethnic identity, on the other hand, is closely connected with the Orthodox Church, which skillfully taps the political context and popular support to cement its position. Today, the anti-Russian sentiments of the people in power clash with the anti-Western rhetoric of the Orthodox Church. The future of relations between the state and the Church in Georgia depends on the extent to which the corresponding elites manage to syn- chronize the opposing trends.

Armenia: Great-Power Ambitions are Still Alive

In Armenia, where ethnic self-identity is practically entirely associated with the prevailing religion, the relations between the state and the church took on a special form. Throughout their history, the Armenians repeatedly lost and restored their independence (they lost it in 1375 when the Cilician Dynasty of Lusignan was deposed to regain it when the Soviet Union left the stage). This explains why the AAC not only provides the people with spiritual support, but also protects the political interests of the Armenian nobility. The Constitution of the Republic of Armenia says: “The Republic of Armenia recognizes the exclusive historical mission of the Armenian Apostolic Holy Church as the national church, in the spiritual life, development of the national culture, and preservation of the national identity of the people of Armenia” (Art 8.1). The preamble to the Law on Freedom of Con- science and Religious Organizations stresses the role of the Armenian Apostolic Church in the development and protection of the Armenian nation. Meanwhile, in Armenia the state and the Church have not yet entered a Concordat. On 17 March, 2000, the sides signed a Memorandum of Understanding between the Govern- ment of the Republic of Armenia and the AAC, which presupposed a concordat. Under the document, the sides intended to resolve the problems related to the property of the AAC, specify taxation privileges for the Church and its traditional organizations, give it a priority place in the state media and in educational and cultural programs, agree on the conditions for the Church’s presence in military units, detention centers, prisons, etc. The sides, however, disagreed on several fundamental issues, which explains why the draft never became a final document either in the next nine months, as had been preliminary stipulated, or in the next eight years. This can probably be explained by the clash of interests of the conservative-minded clergy determined to retain its influence and the politicians seeking closer ties with the West. This also accounts for the fairly contradictory aims the Armenian clergy is expected to pursue in the interests of the state. On the one hand, the AAC as a national Church seeks to preserve the nation’s religious uniformity to achieve the nation’s political cohesion. On the other, the AAC has to move closer to other confessions to create a cultural background for Armenia’s strategic partnership with Russia and

33 See: Civil Georgia, 29 March, 2012 [http://www.civil.ge/eng/article.php?id=24610&search=] 100 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION promote Armenia’s Euro-Atlantic integration. The latter aim has already driven Etchmiadzin into a tight corner: the proselytizing zeal of the Protestant churches cannot but cause concern among the Orthodox nationalists. Closer ties between the AAC and the Armenian Catholic Church might cost the former its church identity, the main source of its integrating function. Today, the two churches are disunited only by the doctrine of papal primacy.34 Despite these problems, Etchmiadzin is steadily widening the scope of its involvement: there are 30 priests working in the Armenian army on the strength of the Charter of Spiritual Service in the armed forces. In August 2009, the government of Armenia postponed conscription for students of several spiritual seminaries. Since 2005, all schoolchildren have been studying the history of the Armenian Church as part of the obligatory school curriculum; the teaching materials are the product of joint efforts of the Ministry of Education and Science and the Center for Spiritual Education of the AAC. The European Commission against Racism and Intolerance repeatedly recommended that the Armenian government exclude everything from the teaching aids that might breed preju- dice against the followers of other religions and insult the feelings of children belonging to religious minorities.35 Meanwhile, different confessions in Armenia are treated differently by the state and society. The Catholic community (between 100 and 180 thousand according to different sources)36 maintains friendly relations with Etchmiadzin, which does nothing to alleviate its organizational problems. It has neither a seminary nor a cathedral and has to use a chapel for its religious needs. The Russian Orthodox Church has four registered religious organizations in Armenia; two more organizations found it hard to register.37 On the whole, the Armenian leaders cherish their contacts with the ROC. They help all the ROC churches in Armenia, which canonically belong to the Maykop Eparchy of the ROC. A convent is being built in Erevan at an Orthodox church; in March 2010, construction of a new Orthodox church began. The Armenian authorities are doing a lot to preserve the religious traditions of the Aysories (followers of the Assyrian Church of the East) and the Yezidi Kurds (Sun worship- pers); the religious leaders of both groups are very much concerned about Protestant missionaries operating among their followers.38 It should be noted that the Armenian priests are, on the whole, not involved in missionary activities among other ethnic groups (they account for about 5.3% of the total population).39 The small communities of the Kurds, Russians, Aysories, Greeks, and Ukrainians who identify themselves with various churches or religions stir up no anxiety among the authorities and official clergy. The non-traditional confessions are fully exposed to the effects of state protectionism of the AAC. This is particularly true of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, Adventists, and other Protestant

34 See: G. Fagan, A. Shipkov, “Armyanskiy konkordat,” available at [http://www.archipelag.ru/ru_mir/religio/gko/ questions/armenian-concordat/]. 35 See: European Commission against Racism and Intolerance, Second Report on Armenia, June 2006, available at [http://hudoc.ecri.coe.int/XMLEcri/ENGLISH/Cycle_03/03_CbC_eng/ARM-CbC-III-2007-1-ENG.pdf]. 36 See: Interview of priest of the Armenian-Catholic parish in Erevan P. Yasaian of 7 March, 2008, available at[http://www.wwjd.ru/news/catholic/Kard-Bertone-v-Armenii-na]. 37 See: Interview of priest of the Orthodox Church of the Intercession of the Most Holy Mother of God in Erevan D. Abrakhamian to the Forum-18 Human Rights Organization of 19 February, 2009, available at [http://www.forum18. org/Archive.php?article_id=1251]. 38 Some Kurdish intellectuals are not happy with the official policy designed to divide the Muslim Kurds and the Yezidi Kurds very much obvious during the 2010 population census (see: “The Situation of the Yezidies in Armenia,” available at [http://kurdistan.org/Current-Updates/yezidi.html]). At the same time, the Yezidies loyal to the Armenian authorities who are represented by the Yezidi National Union of Armenia insist that they should not be counted among the Kurds and that those who “tamper with” their ethnic origins should be persecuted under the law (see: [http://www. ezdixandi.net.ru/news/2009-04-30-316]). 39 See: CIA World Factbook, September 2009, available at [https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world- factbook/geos/am.html]. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 101 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION groups.40 Thanks to international support, the Jehovah’s Witnesses acquired official registration in October 2004, but they are still aware of strong and mounting pressure, their conscientious objec- tion to military service being one of the targets. In the context of Armenia’s aggressive foreign policy, it is perceived as “betrayal of national interests.”41 In January 2012, the European Human Rights Court granted the appeals of two citizens of Armenia and members of the Jehovah’s Wit- nesses who in 2003 had been sent to prison as conscientious objectors. A similar complaint of another conscientious objector was granted in July 2011. According to defense lawyer Shane Brady who represented the Jehovah’s Witnesses, 58 more members of the same organization are serving prison terms.42 Since 2009 the Armenian parliament has been discussing amendments to the Law on Freedom of Conscience and Religious Organizations designed to tighten punishment for proselytism. The draft contains the concept “fishers of men” by which the authors mean “all sorts of religious preaching that uses physical and psychological violence in relation to people of different religious convictions, belonging to other religions, having different ideas to incline them to apostasy, drawing people into their organizations by promises of material gain or exploiting their dependent position or using their relatives, inciting hatred and enmity of people of other religions, other religious convictions, and organizations, and engaging in persistent harassment of people two or more times, as well as of minors under the age of 14 without the knowledge of their parents or guardians.”43 If passed, the law will effectively stem all attempts of religious minorities to proselytize among AAC followers. If passed, other amendments will exempt the AAC from land and property taxes which, however, will infringe on the rights of other religious organizations. In 2011, a draft was sent to the Venice Commission (the European Commission for Democracy through Law at the Council of Europe). In Armenia, the public has readily accepted division of all confessions into traditional and non- traditional. According to Hranush Kharatian, Head of the Center of Ethnological Studies Hazarashen, in Armenia a shift from the traditional to one of the non-traditional religions is perceived not as real- izing the right to freedom of religion but as loss of an important part of ethnic identity. The efforts to oppose proselytism are shifted from the human rights context “to the right of a group to preserve its ethnic culture.”44

* * *

In each of the Central Caucasian states, relations between the state and religious organizations follow their own logic suggested by ethnoconfessional specifics and foreign policy priorities. In Azerbaijan, the Muslim organizations have no special advantages over the non-Muslim communities: the country’s authorities deliberately maintain parity and encourage religious tolerance. In Georgia, where the Georgian Orthodox Church enjoys considerable advantages, the disagreements inside the Church and geopolitical reality force the Patriarchate to act cautiously and take the country’s political leaders into account. In Armenia, the exclusive position of the Armenian Apostolic

40 On 13 February, 2009 the Institute for War and Peace Reporting published a whole series of complains of dis- criminatory actions of the Armenian authorities and the AAC presented by members of religious minorities (see: [http:// www.unhcr.org/refworld/docid/499a6f200.html]). 41 [http://old.kavkaz-uzel.ru/digesttext/digest/id/722661.html]. 42 See: “Kavkazsky uzel,” 14 January, 2012, available at [http://www.kavkaz-uzel.ru/articles/199254/]. 43 “Kavkazskiy uzel,” 26 August, 2011, available at [http://www.kavkaz-uzel.ru/articles/191478/]. 44 H. Kharatian, “Armenia. Religion,” in: Central Eurasia-2008, Analytical Annual, CA&CC Press® Sweden, 2009, p. 61. 102 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Church makes it a weighty factor in public and political life. Below I will discuss in detail the main external and internal factors responsible for the nature of relations between the state and confessions.

Religion and the Ethnic Question in the Central Caucasus

In the last two decades, the Central Caucasus has been living under the pressure of two dominant trends: integration into the world community and settlement of ethnoterritorial conflicts. Ethnic frac- tures, the tectonic waves of which were felt even under Soviet power, developed in the post-Soviet period into seats of separatism and armed confrontation. In the Caucasus, ethnic and religious identities are two sides of the same coin, but the political atmosphere in the warring camps is determined by ethnic rather than confessional self-identity. Indeed, neither in Nagorno-Karabakh nor in Abkhazia did the confrontation between the ethnic groups develop into “religious wars;” however, in both cases different confessions added weight to ethnic motivations. From the very beginning, that is, since 1988, the separatist movement in Nagorno-Karabakh capitalized on the Armenians’ religious feelings. The separatist leaders did not limit themselves to strikes and protest rallies; they demanded restoration of churches and insisted that the leaders of the C.P.S.U. transfer the Christian churches to them. Early in 1990, the Council for Religious Affairs under the U.S.S.R. Council of Ministers endorsed the transfer of six churches (including the Alba- nian monasteries Amaras and Gandzasar) to the Armenians of Karabakh. Later, on 21 November, 1990, the Council for Religious Affairs retreated on its previous decision concerning the Albanian monasteries, which stirred up a lot of indignation among the Armenians and rumors that the Arme- nians were being alienated from the “monuments of their spiritual heritage.” Roman Catholic priest Fr. Josef Gunchaga from Slovakia, assistant prior at the St. Ludovic Cathedral in Moscow, was very explicit: the events in Nagorno-Karabakh were a “psychological war against Christianity;” he was not alone.45 The Catholicos of All Armenians Vazgen I (he died in 1994) was involved in the Karabakh developments from the very beginning; he inspired the Armenians to fight for self-determination and for what he believed would be fair resolution of the Karabakh question. On 25 February, 1988 he wrote an open letter to General Secretary of the C.C. C.P.S.U. Mikhail Gorbachev, in which he demanded that Nagorno-Karabakh be joined to Armenia.46 On 14 September, 1990, he sent Gorbachev, elected president of the Soviet Union, a telegram asking him to rely on the “power of the law” to help the Armenians of Nagorno-Karabakh realize their right to self-determination. Otherwise, warned the head of the AAC, the Armenians would be ready to die for their freedom.47 Unlike his Armenian colleague, Chairman of the Spiritual Administration of the Muslims of Transcaucasia (later AMC), Sheikh ul Islam Pashazade stuck to the wait-and-see policy; on 4 Decem- ber, 1988, he tried to convince the protesters on Lenin Square in Baku to go home.48 The same year he tapped the religious resource to defuse the tension in Nagorno-Karabakh and prevent bloodshed. On 5 May, 1988, he met Catholicos of All Armenians Vazgen I (later these meetings became regular). On 17 November, 1993, the spiritual leaders of the two countries met in the St. Daniil Monastery in

45 A. Melik-Shakhnazarov, “Nagorny Karabakh: fakty protiv lzhi,” available at [http://www.sumgait.info/caucasus- conflicts/nagorno-karabakh-facts/nagorno-karabakh-facts-4.htm]. 46 [http://www.armeniaforeignministry.com/fr/nk/nk_file/article/61.html]. 47 [http://www.sumgait.info/caucasus-conflicts/nagorno-karabakh-facts/nagorno-karabakh-facts-4.htm]. 48 See: A. Yunusov, Islam v Azerbaidzhane, Zaman, Baku, 2004, p. 185. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 103 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Moscow through the mediation of Patriarch of Moscow and All Russia Alexy II. The participants agreed to stop the bloodshed without preliminary conditions and to prevent the conflict’s internation- alization. On 15 April, 1994, the spiritual leaders met once more and suggested that the presidents of Azerbaijan and Armenia meet.49 This meant that religious antagonism of the Armenians and Azeris in Nagorno-Karabakh was pushed to the backburner and remained there. The Armenians are fond of speaking about their geographic location between Europe and the Muslim world and insisting on their specific mission of “custodians of Christian values and human rights and the strategic border of Europe’s security.”50 The prospects of wider contacts with the Arab world and the position of the world community prevent the Armenian politicians from describing the conflict with Azerbaijan as a Muslim-Christian confrontation.51 In Abkhazia, the involvement of units of the Confederation of the Peoples of the Caucasus (the Chechens under Shamil Basaev were especially active) added religious hues to the ethnic conflict. To a great extent, they helped the Abkhazians succeed in 1992-1993; there were also Armenians, Ossets, and Russians in the ranks of the international volunteers. The Georgian-Abkhazian confrontation was not religious: after the exodus of ethnic Georgians, over half of the republic’s population remains Christian. The local Muslims demonstrate no religious zeal: so far, there is not a single functioning mosque in the republic.52 On the other hand, the conflict in Abkhazia triggered, among other things, confessional contradictions in the Georgian Orthodox Church. By 1993, only four priests remained in Abkhazia; in 1998, they set up a new Eparchial Council of the Sukhumi-Abkhazian Eparchy de facto ruled by the Mos- cow Patriarchate (de jure part of the GOC’s canonical territory). Its leaders headed by priest Bessar- ion (Aplia) repeatedly expressed their desire to be transferred under the jurisdiction of the Moscow Patriarchate. In October 2008, the Holy Synod declined the request and refused to include the Sukhu- mi-Abkhazian Eparchy in the ROC.53 On 15 September, 2009, the Eparchial Council, at its extraordinary meeting, suspended the powers of the Sukhumi-Abkhazian Eparchy of the GOC in Abkhazia and restored the Abkhazian Orthodox Church (AOC), which had existed prior to 1795.54 On 21 De- cember, 2010, the Holy Synod of the GOC responded with a decision to add Abkhazia to the title of the Georgian Patriarch.55 On 10 February, 2011, the Government of Abkhazia transferred 38 churches free of charge to the AOC for perpetual use, which made the Church the republic’s largest land- owner.56 Today, the Church is torn apart by serious contradictions among Orthodox priests. In the spring of 2011, a group of young priests led by Hieromonach Andrew (Ampar) objected to the appointment of Hegumen Efrem (Vinogradov) Father Superior of the Novy Afon Monastery. Ac- cording to Professor of Sukhumi State University Zurab Papaskiri, the disagreements were caused

49 See: R. Silantiev, “Religiozny factor vo vneshnepoliticheskikh konfliktakh na Kavkaze,” in: Religia i konflikt, ed. by. A. Malashenko, S. Filatov, Rossiskaya politicheskaya entsiklopedia, Moscow, 2007, p. 134. 50 A. Sahakyan, D. Atanesyan, “Democratization in Armenia: Some Trends of Political Culture and Behavior,” Demokratizatsiya: The Journal of Post-Soviet Democratization, Vol. 14, No. 3, Summer 2006, available at [http:// findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qa3996/is_200607/ai_n17182658/]. 51 In November 2007, on the eve of the presidential elections in Armenia, Prime Minister Serzh Sargsyan had to exonerate himself at a press conference for his incautious statement about a powerful religious element in the Nagorno- Karabakh conflict in his interview to the Los Angeles Times (Novosti-Armenia Agency, 10 November, 2007, available at [http://www.newsarmenia.ru/karabah/20071110/41768503.html]). 52 According to the 2003 sociological poll, 60% of the respondents identified themselves as Christians and 16% as Muslims (see: NG-Religii, 17 March, 2004). 53 See: Kommersant, 7 October, 2008. 54 See: Interfax, 18 September, 2009, available at [http://www.interfax-religion.ru/?act=documents&div=942]. 55 Rosbalt, 21 December, 2010, available at [http://www.rosbalt.ru/exussr/2010/12/21/803195.html]. 56 [http://www.govabk.org/news/government/?ELEMENT_ID=1371&sphrase_id=490]. 104 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION by the attempts of the new father superior, who brought Russian priests with him, to introduce Russian-Slavic rules at the monastery.57 The local monks were justifiably irritated: Hegumen Efrem was blessed for service in Abkhazia by Patriarch of Moscow and All Russia Cyril,58 while the monastery canonically did not belong to the Moscow Patriarchate. On 4 April, a meeting of priests and ordinary people in Novy Afon passed a decision to ask Patriarch Cyril to recall Hegu- men Efrem from Abkhazia and instruct Hieromonach Andrew to organize a congress of religious figures and common people. The congress was convened on 15 May. Despite the acute disapproval of the ROC and the stiff resistance of Father Bessarion, head of the self-announced Abkhazian Orthodox Church, the pro-government and opposition forces agreed to set up the Anakopian Epar- chy in the form of the Holy Metropolitan of Abkhazia. This marked a new turn in the disagreements over the canonical status of the Abkhazian Orthodox Church. Father Bessarion, still resolved to become part of the ROC, planned a religious manifestation to drive the nonconformists out of Novy Afon Monastery, however he had to retreat under political pressure. Meanwhile, the conflict did not subside in 2011; on 27 June, 2012, Chairman of the Council of the Holy Metropolitan See of Abkhazia Archimandrite Dorofey (Dbar) discontinued contacts with the ROC when the Bishop of Maykop and Adigey Tikhon extended the ban on his church services. In South Ossetia, likewise, the situation is not simple. After the war, the Georgian Patriar- chate sided with Tbilisi, while the head of the local Orthodox community Alexander Pukhaev went to Moscow to ask the ROC leaders to take the Orthodox Christians of the self-declared republic under its omophorion and ordain him as priest. Unwilling to enter into territorial disagreements with the other local churches, the Moscow Patriarchate declined the request. After that, in 1992, Alexander Pukhaev set up the Alanian deanery of the Russian Orthodox Church Abroad with three Orthodox parishes. Five other parishes remained with priests of the Nikozi and Tskhinval Epar- chies of the GOC.59 In 2003, when the Russian Orthodox Church Abroad and the Moscow Patriarchate drew closer the head of the deanery discontinued contacts with his partner. In November 2005, he selected a new partner—the Holy Synod in Resistance, one of the non-canonical Orthodox (Old Style) churches of Greece. After the Five-Day War, the Alanian Eparchy made another attempt to join the ROC. In October 2008, the Holy Synod of the ROC declined its request once more and the request of the Su- khumi-Abkhazian Eparchy. Despite the political support which Moscow extends to the separatist regimes in Georgia, the Moscow Patriarchate cannot unilaterally revise the canonical borders with the GOC so as not to play into the hands of those who want to detach the Ukrainian Orthodox Church from the Moscow Patriarchate. Moreover, an agreement could be interpreted as an admission that the Moscow Patri- archate was wrong in its conflict with the Constantinople Patriarchate over the transfer of Orthodox parishes of Estonia to its jurisdiction and with the Rumanian Orthodox Church, which recognized the Bessarabian Metropolitan See that existed alongside the canonical Moldavian-Kishinev Metro- politan See. This explains why the ROC refused to revise the canonical territory of the GOC, even though Russia recognized independence of South Ossetia and Abkhazia.60 The reefs in the relations between the two patriarchates can hardly be concealed. Moscow does not like the fact that Geor- gian Orthodoxy is much older, while in Tbilisi the memory of 1811, when the autocephalous church was replaced with the Georgian Imeretian Synod Office with damaging consequences, is very much alive.

57 See: Nasha Abkhazia, 4 November, 2011, available at [http://abkhazeti.info/news/1320455877.php]. 58 See: Obrashchenie Sukhumo-Pitsundskoy eparkhii k pastve abkhazskoy tserkvi ot 6 aprelya 2011 goda [http:// apsnypress.info/news/2934.html]. 59 See: R. Silantiev, op. cit., p. 142. 60 This was what Head of the Department of Foreign Relations of Moscow Patriarchate Archbishop of Vo- lokolamsk Hilarion said (see: RIA Novosti, 13 September, 2009, available at [http://www.rian.ru/society/20090913/ 184808697.html]). Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 105 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

In the current political situation, the Georgian Patriarchate has no legal power over the Ortho- dox parishes in Abkhazia and South Ossetia; its recent diplomatic efforts to remedy the situation have failed. The developments of the last few months might somehow reduce the importance of the Ortho- dox factor for Georgian statehood. Fully aware of the unwelcome repercussions, the Orthodox nationalists are working hard to restore the GOC’s prestige by moving into compact settlements of Azeris and Armenians. In Kvemo-Kartli, the Azeri population objects to large crosses erected in Muslim villages and at cemeteries.61 Muslims find it increasingly hard to obtain building permits for new mosques. Accord- ing to the representative of Public Defender of Georgia in Kvemo-Kartli E. Mamedov, in the Azeri village of Muganly (Gardaban District), the Muslims went to a lot of trouble to finally build a mosque, albeit minus a minaret.62 In September 2009, Orthodox priests finally halted restoration of the mosque in the village of Fakhraly (Bolnissi Region) in Georgia.63 This problem (the mosque was built in 1905) remained pending for a long time and was mentioned in the 2010 report of the U.S. Depart- ment of State on freedom of conscience. This fully applies to the situation in Ajaria and other regions of Georgia. Local Armenians are not alien to fanning Azeri-Georgian tension; Armenian analysts and political observers contribute to the common efforts by instilling prejudices against the Azeri through the media.64 Those who try to exploit the religious feelings of the Azeris will hardly push them toward an ethnic conflict in Georgia; these efforts, however, may interfere with the integration of the nearly half-a-million-strong Azeri community in Georgian society. Today, it is the most loyal among the ethnic minorities. Relations between the Georgian Patriarchate and the AAC Eparchy in Georgia are tense; the conflict over the so-called “disputed” churches does nothing to quench the rising antagonism. Since Soviet times the AAC in Tbilisi has been using two churches; today Armenians claim five other (un- used) churches in the Georgian capital. The disagreements over the churches of Norashen in Tbilisi and Surb Nshan in Akhaltsikhe are especially heated. The Georgian Patriarchate is prepared to discuss the issue when the law on religious organizations is passed (which will not be any time soon).65 The Christian-Democratic movement of Georgia, in turn, demands that several abandoned churches in north Armenia which, they believe, are Orthodox churches, be transferred to the GOC. It should be said that the Georgian Patriarchate is not raising the question of Georgian churches in Armenia, even though in February 2006 the Holy Synod of the GOC ruled that the “historical” Agarak-Tashira Epar- chy (in the territory of Armenia) with its seat in Dmanisi on the Georgian border should be restored.66 The response of the irritated Armenians was restrained: there are practically no GOC followers in Armenia. The complications between the two confessions are rooted in ethnic contradictions in Samt- skhe-Javakheti with its predominantly Armenian population. It was after the Russian-Turkish War of 1828-1829 that Armenians started moving in great numbers from Turkey to Samtskhe-Java- kheti.67 It geographic location and the terrain are responsible for the region’s economic and cultural

61 See: Novosti-Azerbaijan, 23 February, 2009, available at [http://www.newsazerbaijan.ru/exclusive/20090223/ 42743450.html]. 62 See: Novosti Azerbaijan, 1 April, 2009, available at [http://www.newsazerbaijan.ru/obsh/20090401/ 42795016.html]. 63 See: APA agency, 15 September, 2009, available at [http://ru.apa.az/news.php?id=142704]. 64 See, for example: E. Abramian, “Azerbaidzhantsy Gruzii: aktivnaia podgotovka k dolgozhdannomu vosstaniu?” available at [http://www.mitq.org/?l=rus&id=13&news=2685]. The author is Chairman of the Mitk analytical center (Ar- menia). 65 See: “‘Spornye’ tserkvi, manifestatsiia grekov i propavshiy Molla: doklad Narodnogo Zashchtnika Gruzii,” available at [http://www.regnum.ru/news/569444.html]. 66 [http://www.pravoslavie.ru/cgi-bin/sykon/client/display.pl?sid=363&did=1806]. 67 See: M. Vachnadze, V. Guruli, M. Bakhtadze, “Istoria Gruzii,” available at [http://www.gumer.info/bibliotek_ Buks/History/Vachn/16.php]. 106 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION isolation from the rest of Georgia and for its dependence on neighboring Armenia. The Georgian language is not popular there; the local people are hardly integrated into Georgian society. This cannot but cause concern in Tbilisi, since the local people remain convinced that they are living in a historical region of Armenia.68 The Georgian authorities respond with an active demographic policy to tip the balance in favor of Georgians; they also promote infrastructural projects of all sorts to widen the region’s economic potential and upgrade the standard of living. In the spiritual sphere, this policy has taken the form of stronger Orthodox influence in the region and the steadily expanding landed property of the GOC. The Armenians are convinced that they are merely being squeezed out of their native land; they are worried not so much for religious as for political and economic considerations. Both churches took shape and exist as national churches; this means that in the event of the region’s political and economic integration, the churches will easily put their differences aside. In the Central Caucasus, the ethnic factor obviously figures prominently in the relations among confessions and between the state and confessions. This fully explains and justifies the bias toward cooperation with the dominant confessions that remain loyal to official policies and are involved in nation-building. The new religious movements, on the other hand, widen the gap between the titular peoples and the minorities, as well as inside both groups. The traditional spiritual leaders of ethnic minorities, on the whole, can attend to the spiritual needs of their followers even though there are minor disagreements between them and the dominant confessions (especially in Georgia). All those who analyze the religious situation in the Central Caucasus normally wonder to what extent the relations between the state and religion ensure individual freedom of conscience and religion. This is a real problem of great importance for the emergence of a civil society in the region. Geopolitical reality, however, has pushed various questions to the fore: Can secularization in Azerbaijan fortify its statehood without damaging its spiritual and ethical values? How will a stronger Orthodox component of the Georgian national identity affect social integrity? Can the Armenian national idea survive without aggressive narratives, of which the AAC’s territorial and church claims are an inalienable part? In short, the religious factor is extremely important for the future of the Central Caucasus, something which all the geopolitical players are fully aware of.

Religion in the Central Caucasus: Geopolitical Dimension

In the last fifteen years, the Central Caucasian states have acquired new geopolitical value. On the one hand, their communicative potential has considerably expanded to create the opportunity to move Caspian energy resources to the world market bypassing Russia. On the other, the unresolved ethnoterritorial conflicts in close proximity to Russia’s “overheated” south have already developed from a factor of regional instability into a potential seat of global confrontation among the major powers. In this context, the geopolitical and economic interests of large states and military-political groups have pushed aside the interests of the local countries, which are thus turned into targets of the New Caucasian Policy. The religious factor and freedom of religion have been reduced to a simple geopolitical lever of pressure applied to the independent states and the relations between them and their neighbors outside the region.

68 See: H. Lohm, “Javakheti after the Rose Revolution: Progress and Regress in the Pursuit of National Unity of Georgia,” ECMI Working Paper #38, April 2007 [http://www.ecmi.de/uploads/tx_lfpubdb/working_paper_38.pdf]. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 107 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

The United States of America is especially concerned about the religious factor. The U.S. De- partment of State regularly monitors the religious situation in the region and tries to correct, by diplomatic means, the way the states treat some of the religious associations. America is concentrating on liberalization of religious policies and counterterrorist efforts. While remaining as benevolent as ever toward Evangelical Protestantism, the Baptists, Pentecostals, and Jehovah’s Witnesses in particular, the United States is promoting globalization of the “Anglo-Saxon traits, especially in the powerful combination of individualistic self-expression, egalitarianism, and the capacity for creating voluntary associations.”69 Protestant groups which enjoy political support of some of the European states and human rights organizations and which are seen by the local people as non-traditional or even destructive sects70 imagine themselves to be the vehicles of a certain historic mission and boldly challenge traditional cultures. They have no use for the ecumenical dialog: proud of their association with the West, they are not shy about their geopolitical orientation.71 They have not made much progress in the Central Caucasus, which means that it is too early to talk about the “Protestant card” in U.S. or EU policy. So far, the U.S.-initiated struggle against international terrorism has affected the religious situation in the region to a much greater extent. In the wake of the 9/11 tragedy, Azerbaijan suspended the activities of the Kuwait-based Revival of Islamic Heritage Society, an active supporter of the local Salafis. It closed six similar funds suspected of contacts with terrorist organizations.72 The counterterrorist measures destroyed the infrastructure of the Salafi organizations; they never regained their old scope, which considerably undermined the position of Sunni Islam in the country. The West, likewise, wants to keep the Sunni factor in Azerbaijan under tight control for the simple reason that the religious disagreements between the Sunni Turks and Shi‘a Azeris are practically the only civilizational barrier against Turkish influence in the Caucasus. The overseas strategists need a stronger Shi‘a corridor from Lebanon to Azerbaijan because the deeply-rooted contradictions create a geopolitical dividing line between the Sunnis and the philo-Persians in the Muslim ummah. The foreign policy of the Islamic Republic of Iran is unthinkable without its traditional religious component. The country, which claims political leadership in the Muslim world, wants to preserve its position in the Caucasus to keep the Turkish influence in Central Eurasia in check. Its status of a regional power promises involvement in large-scale transnational projects and a breakthrough in foreign economic isolation. On the other hand, a stronger Azerbaijan might encourage nationalist sentiments among the Iranian Azeris and threaten the country’s territorial integrity.73 The Iranian leaders do not like Azerbaijan’s cooperation with the United States in the economic and military-technical spheres and the fact that it is drawing closer to Israel. Nor does Tehran like the strategic closeness between the Saakashvili regime and the United States. The Tehran-Erevan-Moscow axis turned out to be a temporary palliative: it promised no long-term advantage, while Tehran “worries about its relations with the Kremlin.”74 In the absence of strategic allies, Iran is desperately trying to use its eco-

69 P.L. Berger, “The Cultural Dynamics of Globalization,” in: Many Globalizations. Cultural Diversity in the Con- temporary World, Oxford University Press, 2002, p. 8. 70 According to A. Amarian, Head of the Center for Assistance to and Rehabilitation of People who Suffered from Destructive Sects (Armenia), more than a half of the religious organizations registered in Armenia can be described as destructive sects (see: Novosti-Armenia, 19 April, 2006, available at [http://www.newsarmenia.ru/arm1/20060419/ 41552277.html]). 71 See: R. Lunkin, “Protestantizm i globalizatsiia na prostorakh Evrazii,” in: Religia i globalizatsia na prostorakh Evrazii, ed. by A. Malashenko, S. Filatov, Moscow Carnegie Center, Neostrom, Moscow, 2005, pp. 104-105. 72 See: Interview of the then Minister of National Security N. Abbasov to the Echo newspaper (Baku), 9 August, 2003. 73 According to the CIA World Factbook, there are about 16 millions Azeris in Iran (see: [https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/ir.html]); the UNPO experts quote the figure of up to 30 million (see: [http:// www.unpo.org/content/view/7884/144]). 74 A. Majidyar, “Russo-Iranian Relations from Iran’s Perspective,” 20 May, 2009, available at [http:// www.irantracker.org/analysis/russo-iranian-relations-irans-perspective]. 108 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION nomic, cultural, and demographic potential to widen its presence in the region and is falling short of its objective. In these conditions, the mounting political tension in the Caucasus is playing into the hands of the mullocratic regime. Where and how can Tehran play its “religious card?” First and foremost, in Azerbaijan with its predominantly Shi‘a population. In the first half of the 1990s, Iranian missionaries felt free to preach what smacked of revolutionary rhetoric in a country burdened by the war in Nagorno-Karabakh and an ailing economy. Later, when the central government tightened its grip on the domestic situation (it was then that Tehran corrected its foreign policy especially when Mohammad Khatami was elected president), the idea of export of the Islamic revolution to Azerbaijan died a natural death. The clergy remained in the shadows from 1995, when the leaders of the Islamic Party of Azerbaijan were arrested, until 2003, when Hajji Ilgar Ibrahimoglu, one of the Shi‘a leaders, openly supported oppositional leader Isa Gambar for president. This bared the processes underway inside the Shi‘a community and revealed it was not strong enough to affect the political situation in the country in any way. At the same time, the supporters of Iranian Islam have a wide network of religious communities in practically all regions of the country and are involved in public and religious activities on a grand scale. The Imam Homeini Relief Foundation and the Iranian Cultural Center are doing a lot to organize a Shi‘a movement in Azerbaijan. On 19 August, 2008, a group of Shi‘a religious figures condemned the terrorist act in the Juma Mosque in Baku as “contradicting the Muslim identity.” The statement published by the Day.az news portal carried the signatures of 40-odd leaders of religious communities and public associations.75 Tehran persists in its efforts to knock together a viable Islamic opposition in Azerbaijan to keep in check the spread of right-wing nationalist ideas geared to drawing closer to Turkey and secular pro- Western ideology. At the same time, in the last ten years, what began as clerical rhetoric of Iranian missionaries was transformed into calls to enter a cultural dialog. The numerous cultural and educational programs implemented by the Iranian Cultural Center and private funds make the Persian language and the student exchange programs between higher educational establishments of Iran and the Central Caucasian countries more popular and boost the positive image of the IRI and its political order.76 Iran rendered political support to and funded restoration of the Blue Mosque in Erevan built by Husayn Ali Khan Qajar in 1766. In its geopolitical strategy, Turkey relies on the idea of a revived common Turkic identity rather than on the religious context, but pro-Turkic Islamic movements (such as the international religious network of the followers of Said Nursi and Sufi tariqats with centers in Turkey) are helping Ankara to consolidate its international prestige and bridle the growing Iranian influence. Until recently, because of their moderate ideas and demonstratively respectful treatment of secular statehoods, they were tolerated in Azerbaijan and the other Soviet successor-states. The situation changed when, in November 2002, the Justice and Development Party carried the parliamentary elections in Turkey. Its functionaries, who called for liberalization of the religious sphere and trimming of the army’s political role, looked like Muslim modernists who were steering the country toward the West. The fear of spreading the Phenomenon of Erdoðan, a successful secular politician with Muslim ideas, became a pretext for driving the Turkish missionaries away and closing down pro-Turkish religious associations across the post-Soviet expanse. According to former director of the FSB Nikolay Patrushev, in 2002 alone activities of over 50 Nursist functionaries were suppressed.77 In May 2007, the Koptevo District Court in Moscow banned several books by Said Nursi as being extremist; on 10 April, 2008, the Supreme Court of the Russian Federation added the international organization of Nursists to the list of extremist structures.

75 Later the document was removed from the portal. 76 See: R.A. Kasymov, “Politika Irana v zakavkazskikh gosudarstvakh,” available at [http://www.iimes.ru/rus/stat/ 2005/15-05-05a.htm]. 77 See: Kavkazskiy uzel, 11 April, 2008, available at [http://www.kavkaz-uzel.ru/newstext/news/id/1211850.html]. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 109 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Azerbaijan tightened control over pro-Turkish religious groups suspected of trying to worm their way into the power structures. In November 2007, Sheikh ul Islam Pashazade likened the Nur- sists to “radical Wahhabis” and pointed out that their activities undermined the interests of Islam.78 In October 2007, the law-enforcers of Azerbaijan detained Deputy Chairman of the Independent Turkey Party Mehmet Harun Kayaci, later sentenced to correctional labor for illegal religious prop- aganda79; in April 2009, the ªehidler mosque in Baku was closed down, allegedly for renovation, along with the religious center of the followers of Turkish Sheikh Süleyman Hilmi Tunahan (who died in 1959). So far, the Turkish authorities have offered no comment in order to keep religious activities and the country’s official policies separate. According to Counselor of the Turkish Embassy in Az- erbaijan M. ªahin, the future of the ªehidler mosque is a domestic issue in which the Turkish side cannot and should not interfere.80 There are other explanations for the Olympian calm of the Turk- ish lobby in Azerbaijan, which is hardly indifferent to the developments. First, restrictive measures were applied solely to the persons and structures that violated the laws of Azerbaijan in the sphere of religious freedom; second, the far-flung network of pro-Turkish communities remained practically intact. Unlike the other geopolitical players, the Russian Federation preferred to maintain the status quo in the religious sphere. Unable to extend economic aid comparable to Western investments, the Kremlin is resolved to do everything in its power to keep the Central Caucasus within its sphere of influence. Indeed, Russia does not want American and NATO units in its “soft underbelly;” likewise secure communication projects between the Caspian and the Mediterranean threaten Russia’s strategic interests in the European energy market. The conflicts in Nagorno-Karabakh, Abkhazia, and South Ossetia, which have been dragging out for a long time now, linger on the brink of open hostility. In this context, the world community cannot afford the luxury of ignoring Russia’s opinion: Rus- sia has demonstrated that it is ready to come to the aid of the “offended” side. Vagueness in the Cen- tral Caucasus is in Russia’s interests, at least until the Kremlin is ready to implement a geopolitical project of its own. The Russian strategists do not want additional religious overtones in the political processes underway in Russia’s Central Caucasian neighbors. In short, its position balances out other foreign impacts. The Russian authorities, which actively cooperate with the Russian Orthodox Church, encourage a dialog between the Moscow Patriarchate and the traditional religious leaders of the post- Soviet states, the Central Caucasian states in particular. The Orthodox clergy are not engaged in proselytism in the region and are helping to maintain cultural ties between the local clergy and the Moscow Patriarchate. Any shift toward a stronger presence of non-traditional confessions in any of the Central Caucasian states undermines the interests of Russia. Today, Russia and the Russian analysts are most concerned about the Salafis because supporters of “pure Islam” form the core of radical Islamic resistance in the Northern Caucasus. It seems that Azerbaijan should be even more concerned about Islamic radicalization in the Northern Caucasus. In the early half of the 1990s, the Salafi movement in Azerbaijan developed separately from the North Caucasian processes, however the second Chechen war radicalized a part of the Azerbaijan’s Salafis. Today, the sentiments among the Azeri Salafis and the Kharijites who detached themselves from them are very much inspired by their co-religionists in the Northern Caucasus, not vice versa. Having declared a war on religious extremism, the Kremlin is closely monitoring the regional developments, but is doing nothing to remove the true reasons for Muslim radicalization. According to Alexey Malashenko, Chechnia, Dagestan, and Kabardino-Balkaria are in chaos, which makes terrorism the only instru-

78 See: Trend Agency, 16 November, 2007, available at [http://az.trend.az/news/society/religion/1077128.html]. 79 See: ANS PRESS Agency, 23 May, 2008. 80 See: APA Agency, 28 August, 2009. 110 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION ment of retribution and oppositional sentiments. He believes that the authorities are using force for want of any other means.81

Conclusion

After leaving the euphoria of the religious awakening of the early 1990s behind, the Central Caucasian states set about sorting out their relations with the traditional and non-traditional confessions in full conformity with the tasks of nation-building and objective social requirements. The Cen- tral Caucasian leaders are very negative about the efforts of external forces to affect the religious situation and frequently ignore the pressure of international organizations to defend the interests of certain confessions. Today, Azerbaijan, Georgia, and Armenia pursue different religious policies regarding ethnic and religious minorities because each of the states has different ideas about how to respond to the global and regional challenges. Azerbaijan has placed its stakes on desacralization of social relations and cut short all attempts to clericalize the state and the public sphere. In Georgia, where the conditions for a wider material and social base of the GOC have been created, Christianity is not seen as an obstacle to European and Euro-Atlantic integration. In Armenia, the AAC enjoys exclusive privileges and remains a guarantor of the “Armenian idea,” irrespective of the official political course. This trend will survive in the coming decade (if the region remains outside another redivision of the Middle East). There is another alternative: political, economic, and civilizational integration of the Central Caucasus. Transnational projects and European experience of political integration and the opportunities they offer the united Caucasian House are pushing the Central Caucasian states closer together. The heads of Azerbaijan and Georgia frequently discuss the need to consolidate the Caucasus into a “single organism.”82 Today, cosmopolitan values are shared by small elite groups with access to all the boons offered by globalization; to resolve the ethnic contradictions we must be prepared for deep- cutting changes in the role ethnic and confessional stereotypes play in shaping national self-identity. Will the rivaling ethnicities overcome the “self-identification syndrome?” Is a sustainable supra-national identity possible in the Caucasus? How will the conflict of interests between the clergy and the state be affected if the “common Caucasian” triumphs over the “national”? So far there are no answers to these questions: the smoldering ethno-territorial conflicts are far from their final settlement, while ethnic contradictions may ignite new conflicts. Today, another option cannot be excluded. America’s persistent desire to achieve absolute economic and technological domination over its rivals threatens, to a steadily increasing degree, peace in the Middle East. A war with Iran, the main state of the axis of evil, will load America’s industry, produce a strong technological impulse, and, which is also important, create huge energy difficulties for Germany, Japan, China, and other global rivals. This war will plunge the Central Caucasian states into an abysmal humanitarian crisis accompanied by nationalist and fundamentalist outbursts. Exter- nal threats will push regional integration onto the backburner. The political, social, and cultural repercussions of an inflow of Iranian refugees in Azerbaijan can hardly be predicted. Independent Shi‘a leaders will ride the wave of Islamic solidarity to consolidate their positions, while attempts to secu- larize public consciousness will be increasingly rejected. Religious contradictions might flare up in Georgia and Armenia.

81 See: A. Malashenko made this statement at the seminar The Events in the Caucasus: Propaganda or Objective Reality? held in the Moscow Carnegie Center on 14 September, 2009, available at [http://www.polit.ru/news/2009/09/15/ malashenko.html]. 82 President of Azerbaijan Ilham Aliev, in particular, spoke about this in a speech at the opening ceremony of the Teze-pir Central Mosque in Baku on 6 July, 2009; President of Georgia Mikhail Saakashvili said the same at a meeting with the professors, lecturers and students of Erevan State University on 25 June, 2009. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 111 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

The mid-term future of the religious situation in the Central Caucasus is dim. Despite the efforts of all political regimes to independently identify the limits of their secular nature and the priorities of relations between the state and religions, the states are pretty vulnerable in the face of the external factor. They need peace in the region to be able to engage in political integration and become fully involved in global projects. Only time will tell whether they can overcome their contradictions to become independent entities of world politics.

Lyubov SOLOVYEVA

Ph.D. (Hist.), Senior Research Fellow at the Department of the Caucasus, The Institute of Ethnology and Anthropology, Russian Academy of Sciences (Moscow, the Russian Federation).

THE ABKHAZIAN-GEORGIAN CONFLICT: THE PAST AND PRESENT OF ETHNOCULTURAL TIES

Abstract

he author takes Samurzakano, a his where Abkhazians and Georgians/Megrels T torical district (today the Gali Region), lived side by side and where their cultures as an example of close ethnocultural intertwined. The author concludes that the contacts between the Georgians and Abk- Abkhazian-Georgian conflict is not a prod- hazians. She relies on archival and literary uct of the different mentalities of these peo- sources to analyze migration and the spe- ples with a long history of peaceful coex- cifics of the ethnocultural and ethnolinguis- istence behind them, but of the pernicious tic processes that went on for many centu- and short-sighted policy of the people in ries in the Abkhazian-Georgian border area power.

Introduction

The reverberations of the Abkhazian-Georgian armed conflict, which have made it the worst in the post-Soviet expanse, are keeping the academic community riveted to Abkhazia. Anyone wishing to sort out the causes of the 1992-1993 war and its reasons must look into the common past of the two peoples to find the answer. Indeed, how were the Abkhazians and Georgians/Megrels ever able to live side by side for decades or even centuries? How did their cultures interact? What ethnic processes took place under the impact of cultural interaction? 112 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

There is any number of sources confirming that the historical interaction between the two peoples goes back into the past.1 These contacts were not limited to the ethnic border area but were obvious, to different degrees, across the rest of Abkhazia. According to historical sources, in the 18th-19th centuries, Georgian (mainly Megrelian) migration to the region was a common feature: some people moved on their own, others were brought as prisoners of war. (It should be said that Abkhazians also moved to Megrelia for various reasons, albeit on a smaller scale.2) The contacts between the Abkhazian and Georgian elites were fairly close. “Traditionally close ties were obvious at different levels—dynastic marriages, atalychestvo (fosterage), kunachestvo, pobratimstvo (sworn brotherhood), wet-nursing, and political alliances based on blood kinship;” this explains why, in the absence of political unity, “the elites were closely intertwined and mutually integrated at another, less conspicuous level of kinship.”3 In his Georgy Sharvashidze, Simon Janashia offered a wealth of information about the dynastic contacts between the top social groups of Abkhaz- ia and Megrelia.4 The relations between the two peoples worsened to the extent that today some historians refuse to admit that Georgians lived in Abkhazia before the late 19th century. Here is a typical statement: “To establish the fact that ‘Georgians’ were absent from Abkhazia there is no need to go too far back into history—they (the Georgians.—L.S.) did not appear there until the late 19th century.”5 This is hardly substantiated because historians, including Abkhazian historians, who studied the history of the multinational Abkhazian population write that in the latter half of the 19th century Abkhazia “was actively settled” by different peoples—Georgians/Megrels, Armenians, Greeks, Esto- nians, Bulgarians, and Germans.6 Georgians comprised the largest group—they were mainly Meg- rels, as well as smaller groups of Imeritins, Svans, and Rachins. By the late 19th century, half of the Abkhazian population belonged to different nationalities.7 Georgian historians, in turn, write about the “purely Georgian” population of southeast Abkhaz- ia (the historical district of Samurzakano, now the Gali Region of Abkhazia). Some authors go as far as lumping Abkhazians with the other ethnic minorities living in Georgia (Armenians, Azeris, Rus- sians, etc.) as “guests on Georgian soil.”8 In this article, I examine the specifics of the relations between the Abkhazians and Georgians/ Megrels in the 19th-early 20th centuries in the border area of Samurzakano. In fact, the Gali Region and the fate of its population (today Georgians/Megrels comprise the majority) is one of the pivotal problems that remained pending after the conflict. Abkhazian authors are convinced that the importance of the ethno-cultural history of the region and its people cannot be overestimated. Teymuraz Achugba, for example, has written the following: “When disclosed … the processes and reasons of artificial and natural assimilation of the Abkhazians will create a favorable context conducive to the

1 See: G.V. Tsulaya, Abkhazia i abkhazy v kontekste istorii Gruzii. Domongolskiy period: Kratkie ocherki, Mos- cow, 1995. 2 For more detail, see: S.N. Janashia, “K genealogii roda Baratashvili,” Etnograficheskoe obozrenie, No. 1, 1999, pp. 125-136. 3 A.L. Rybakov, “Mestnye elity i ikh rol v Rossiyskoy sisteme kosvennogo upravleniia v Zapadnoy Gruzii (pervaia polovina XIX v.),” in: Kavkaz v Rossiyskoy politike: istoria i sovremennost. Materialy mezhdunarodnoy nauchnoy konferentsii. Moskva, MGIMO (U) MID Rossii, 16-17 maia 2006 goda, Moscow, 2007, p. 64. 4 See: S.N. Janashia, “Georgy Sharvashidze. Kulturno-istoricheskiy ocherk,” Emigrant. Obshchestvenno-prosveti- telskiy, literaturno-kulturny almanakh (Moscow), No. 1, 2000, pp. 125-136. 5 T.M. Shamba, A.Yu. Neproshin, Abkhazia: Pravovye osnovy gosudarstvennogo suvereniteta, Moscow, 2005, p. 9. 6 See: L.I. Tsvizhba, Etnodemograficheskie protsessy v Abkhazii v XIX veke, Sukhum, 2001, p. 104. 7 See: Ibidem. 8 A.B. Krylov, “Problemy etnogeneza i gruzino-abkhazskiy konflikt,” in: Kavkaz: istoria, kultura, traditsii, yazyki. Po materialam Mezhdunarodnoy nauchnoy konferentsii, posvyashchennoy 75-letiyu Abkhazskogo instituta gumanitar- nykh issledovaniy im. D.I. Gulia ANA 28-31 maya 2001 goda, Sukhum, 2003, p. 31. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 113 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION natural revival of the original national self-awareness of the Samurzakano population and help them identify their correct political orientation.”9

The Ethnic Borderland

We all know that the ethnic borderland is the best place for ethnic contacts and ethnic processes to develop unhampered and where the very possibility of close and consistent ethnic communication determines the intensity and dynamism of these processes. The ethnic structure of the borderland zones is inevitably very complicated because ethnic interaction and ethnic processes might create transitional ethnic groups with no clear ethnic self-awareness and ethnic identity. In some cases, the blending of ethnic features and bilingualism create a situation in which the ethnic affiliation of any given population group becomes hardly identifiable.10 According to historical sources, in the 18th century, the population of Samurzakano was of mixed Abkhazian-Georgian (Abkhazian-Megrel) ethnic affiliation. According to numerous literary and archival sources, in the 19th century, the traditional everyday culture of the Samurzakano people was largely a product of the ethnocultural contacts between the two aforementioned peoples rooted in history. The considerable similarity of many aspects of the traditional everyday culture of the Abk- hazians and Georgians/Megrels should be taken into account.11 Yu. Argun and L. Levidze pointed out that “Abkhazians and Megrels, who lived side by side for many centuries in largely similar natural geographic conditions, share many agricultural methods and have similar traditional dishes… They use similar methods of cooking and making drinks; they use similar names for certain foodstuffs and pots and pans…” They had similar marriage, burial, and funeral rites. Researchers, however, concluded that “the Abkhazians and Megrels had no common material and spiritual culture. Each of the peoples had specific features of its own.”12

Migration: Causes and Results

Mass migration from the neighboring West Georgian areas (mainly from Megrelia) to Samurza- kano can be described as one of the specific features of the ethnic history of this region. People moved for various, mainly socioeconomic, reasons: class struggle and social contradictions, land shortage, trade in serfs, blood feud, natural disasters, and epidemics of plague and other diseases. Not infrequently Abkhazian feudal lords brought back Megrelian prisoners of war. A social institution known across Abkhazia as asasstvo (from the Abkhazian word asas, which means guest), “the right to temporary or permanent movement from one community to another registered in common law,”13 gave peasants the chance to protect their interests to a certain extent. In the

9 T.A. Achugba, O problemakh natsionalnogo samosoznaniia naseleniia iugo-vostochnoy Abkhazii, Sukhum, 2006, p. 7. 10 See: P.I. Kushner (Knyshev), “Etnicheskie territorii i etnicheskie granitsy,” Trudy Instituta etnografii, Vol. 15, Moscow, 1951, p. 7. 11 See: Etnograficheskie paralleli: Materialy VII Respublikanskoy sessii etnografov Gruzii (5-7 iiunia 1985 g., Su- khumi), Metsniereba, Tbilisi, 1987. 12 Yu.G. Argun, L.Sh. Levidze, “Predvaritelny otchet o rabote sovmestnoy gruzino-abkhazskoy etnograficheskoy ekspeditsii,” in: Etnograficheskie paralleli, p. 146. 13 P. Kraevich, “Ocherk ustroystva obshchestvenno-politicheskogo byta Abkhazii i Samurzakani,” SSKG, Issue 3, 1870, p. 2. 114 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

19th century, asasstvo allowed peasants to protest against the mounting feudal exploitation and injus- tices of feudal lords. Quite often, protesting families moved away together with their relatives and even namesakes.14 The 1867 fiscal census (kameralnoe opisanie) revealed that there were at least 5 to 15 asas families in every Samurzakano village.15 Any community member was free to accept asas without asking permission from the other members. According to the estate-land commission, “frequent movement of people from one place to another … either individuals or families, extended families, or those who were serfs of one person or one family was quite common”16 in Samurzakano. An asas migrant could expect to be received by a poor family or an extended peasant family; more often he was patronized by a prince or a noble. In any case, “he acquired all the rights of a permanent resident of the village.”17 A stretch of land from which he removed the trees became his property, while he could use the forest along with the other villagers.18 A quarrel with his patron did not mean that the patron could merely get rid of him: it was far from easy, especially if the migrant had lived on the land for over a year.19 Asases paid small taxes; revenge for insults was taken by the patron of the insulted, the patron’s clan, or even the entire community.20 On the whole, the rights of the asases were strictly observed mainly because the nobles found this institution profitable. Late in the 1860s, the princes and nobles of Samurzakano declared in official documents that the population of practically all their villages consisted of asases: to populate their domains they distributed land among newcomers free of charge.21 There were Abkhazians among the newcomers, but the bulk of the migrants were Megrels. In Megrelia, peasants could not change landlords; if there was not enough land the landlord might allow his peasant to move to the lands of another landlord and pay dues to both. This category of peasant was called mindobili in Megrelian or khizani in Georgian (both terms meant “assumed patronage”); sometimes they were called stumari (guests). Although similar, these terms were applied to two different institutions. Asasstvo survived as a legal institution until the late 1860s; it was finally banned in 1869 “to put an end to vagrancy and stealing.” Under the Project of Land Settlement of the People of the Sukhumi Military Area, the asases were instructed to choose a place for their permanent domicile.22 According to historical sources, transfer from one feudal lord to another was a widely used form of class struggle in this region. Peasants fled from Megrelia, where serfdom was especially harsh, to Abkhazia, where the situation was much better.23 In the 1860s, Konstantin Borozdin wrote that peasants fled quite often because “the land there (in Abkhazia.—L.S.) is twice as fertile as in Megrelia and there is no serfdom.” If dissatisfied with his life for any reason, the peasant “piled chestnut boards, the foundation of his saklya (house—Ed.), onto a cart and moved to Samurzakano or Abkhazia together with his family and cattle.”24 Fugitive peasants comprised a large share of the migrants. In 1847, Megrelian Prince Dadiani demanded that 140 families of serf peasants who had fled to Samurzakano from the Zugdidi (62 families), Sujun (18 families), and Jvari (60 families) districts be returned to their owners.25

14 See: Ibid., p. 15. 15 Central State Archives of Abkhazia (TsGAA), rec. gr. 57, inv. 1, f. 5, sheet 178rev. 16 TsGAA, rec. gr. 57, inv. 1, f. 5, sheets 128, 135, 137rev.; inv. 3, f. 11, sheet 34. 17 P. Kraevich, op. cit., p. 14. 18 TsGAA, rec. gr. 57, inv. 3, f. 11, p. 10. 19 TsGAA, rec. gr. 57, inv. 3, f. 4, sheet 57. 20 See: P.V. Gugushvili, Selskoe khoziaystvo i agrarnye otnoshenia, Vol. II, Tbilisi, 1950, p. 549. 21 See: S.S. Esadze, Istoricheskaia zapiska ob upravlenii Kavkazom, Vol. I, Gutenberg, Tiflis, 1907, p. 514. 22 TsGAA, rec. gr. 57, inv. 3, f. 11, sheets 37-39. 23 See: Ocherki istorii Abkhazskoy ASSR, Part 1, Sukhumi, 1960, pp. 115, 186. 24 K. Borozdin, “Krepostnoe sostoianie v Mingrelii,” Zapiski Kavkazskogo otdela Imperatorskogo russkogo ge- ograficheskogo obshchestva (ZKOIRGO), Book 7, Tiflis, 1866, pp. 60-61. 25 Central State Historical Archives of Georgia (TsGIAG), rec. gr. 4, inv. 1, f. 652, sheets 7-14. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 115 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

The shortage of arable land drove Megrelian peasants to Samurzakano: by the 1850s, the population density in Megrelia was approximately 2.5 times higher than in Samurzakano (30 persons per 1 sq. verst in Megrelia and 12 in Samurzakano).26 Abolition of serfdom in Megrelia in 1866 opened a new stage of migration from this region. It should be said that the nobles of Samurzakano needed tenants from Megrelia because the local peasants and peasants in other parts of Abkhazia avoided hired labor as an improper or simply degrad- ing occupation.27 According to G. Rybinsky, in the 1890s, “migrants from Mingrelia”28 were hired hands. Judging from the archival materials and other sources, Megrelian migrants adapted easily to the new conditions; on rare occasions they went back home to visit relatives and pray in the local churches. For example, in 1864, T. Sajaya and his family arrived in the village of Nabakevi from the Meg- relian village of Mukhuri and went back once “to pray in a Kutaisi church.”29

Ethnolinguistic Processes

The process which finally created the ethnically mixed population of Samurzakano largely affected practically all aspects of the traditional everyday culture—material and spiritual, the local identity of the region’s population, and linguistic processes. For a long time, Abkhazo-Megrelian bilingualism of a large part of the autochthonous population remained the main type of bilingualism, which developed due to the following factors: the district’s location in the borderline area; the specifics of population development in this part of Abkha- zia; large-scale migration from neighboring Megrelia; and the long-standing political and economic contacts with Western Georgia (mainly Megrelia). There was another no less important factor: for a long time Samurzakano was ruled by the influential Megrelian princely family of Dadiani, which meant that the Megrelian language predominated as a vitally important communication tool. Even when Samurzakano became an independent administrative unit nearly all the local officials (court interpreters), as well as clerics and teachers, descended from West Georgian families and knew neither Russian nor Abkhazian. Simon Basaria, for example, used this fact to explain why the Samurza- kano people had abandoned Abkhazian and started using Megrelian (the language of communication with officials).30 Mixed Abkhazian-Megrelian families, a more or less common feature of the time, used Megre- lian in everyday life; the rapidly developing trade with the Megrelian-speaking economic centers (Zugdidi, Senaki, Ochamchira, and Gudava) made Megrelian even more important; Megrelians, who had monopolized internal trade, made their language indispensable. It was needed to communicate with seasonal workers from Western Georgia (not infrequently it was used when dealing with the Svans and Rachins). According to 19th-century authors, Megrelian became the “international language” because the Abkhazian language (especially its phonetics) proved too difficult for the ethnically diverse Samurzakano population. Starting in the 1830s, eye-witnesses testified to Abkhazian-Megrelian bilingualism in Samur- zakano. One such witness, Fedor Tornau, wrote that “it was hard to say anything about the ethnic

26 See: I.A. Lavrentiev, “Kutaisskoe general-gubernatorstvo,” in: Statisticheskoe opisanie guberniy i oblastey Ros- siiskoy imperii, Vol. 16, Part 5, St. Petersburg, 1858, p. 77. 27 See: G.A. Rybinskiy, Sukhumsky okrug. Abkhazia v selskokhoziastvennom i bytovom otnoshenii, Tiflis, 1894, p. 15. 28 G.A. Rybinsky, “Skotokradtsvo v Abkhazii i Samurzakani,” Novoe obozrenie, No. 3042, 1892. 29 TsGIAG, rec. gr. 231, inv. 1, f. 269, sheet 71. 30 See: S. Basaria, Abkhazia v geograficheskom, etnograficheskom i ekonomicheskom otnosheniiakh, Sukhum, 1923, p. 101. 116 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION origins of the local population” because the people used “sometimes Abkhazian and sometimes Mingrelian.”31 Frederic Dubois de Montpereux confirmed this. Born in Samurzakano where he spent his childhood and youth, Konstantin Machavariani wrote that in the 1850s “few people used Mingrelian while Abkhazian was widely used.”32 Other sources related to the Nabakevi and Sabe- rio areas (between the Ingur and Ertistskali rivers) say that in the 1860s people spoke Megrelian.33 At the same time, most authors testify to the fact that bilingualism was fairly widespread: many of those who lived in Okumi and Bedia (where Abkhazian was the main language) knew Megrelian; in Ilori, 160 households of “peasants of Mingrelian origin” who used Megrelian also knew Ab- khazian.34 Linguist Avksenty Tsagareli, who visited Samurzakano in 1877, supplied interesting information about the correlation of languages. He pointed out that in the territory which stretched between the Ingur to Galidzga Abkhazian and Megrelian “predominated in equal degrees” and bilingualism was widespread to the extent that he sometimes found it hard to “say which was the native language and which was not.” In the borderland, people normally spoke two languages—their native tongue and the language used across the border. Many of the men who lived on the left-hand bank of the Ingur (the villages of Purashi, Ettseri, Jvari, Pakhulani, Ganarjiashmukhuri, Koki, and Khetush- Mukhuri of the Zugdidi District) knew the Abkhazian language and used it.35 In the eastern part of Samurzakano (between Ingur and Ertistskali), people used Megrelian in the family and for official purposes; many men also knew Abkhazian. This was how things stood in the villages of Saberio, Dikhazurga, Tskhiri, Chuburiskhinji, Tageloni, Nabakevi, Bargebi, Oto- baiya, Dikhaguzube, Ettseri, Barbala, and Ettseri-Mukhuri. Those who helped Tsagareli collect information, namely, Prince Kvaji Akyrtava from the village of Chuburiskhinji and Prince Bakhva Chikovani from the village of Jvari, had an equally good command of Abkhazian, Megrelian, and Georgian.36 According to the same author, Megrelian was the “language of the family” in the villages situated between the rivers of Ertistskali and Okhuri, while outside the family both languages were used. This information relates to the villages of Abjigdara, Kumuzi, Atabja, Abja, Nadjikhevi, Sagurgulio, Sachina, Reka, Sakhukhubio, Bedia, Eshketi, Chkhortoli, Rechkhi, Okumi, Tuarche, Repi, Gali, Mukhuri, Shesheleti, and Gudava. In the territory squeezed between the Ohuri and Galidzga rivers, Abkhazian dominated in the family and outside it; nearly all men spoke Megrelian, or at least understood it. Women and children did not know Megrelian (the village of Ilori, where people spoke only Megrelian, was the only exception).37 According to Avksenty Tsagareli, in the 1880s, the top social groups, princes, and nobles, preserved Abkhazian longer than the lower classes and even “flaunted” it. In the 1860s, Dmitry Kipiani called Abkhazian the “fashionable language among the Samurzakano people.” Abkhazian preserved its position as the language of church services: according to the available information, as late as the end of the 19th century, people prayed to the Zhini deity in Abkhazian.38

31 Russian State Military Historical Archives (RGVIA), rec. gr. 482, f. 57, sheet 7. 32 K. Machavariani, “Ocherki Abkhazii,” Chernomorsky vestnik, No. 41, 1900. 33 See: D. Machavariani, I. Bartolomey, “Nechto o Samurzakani,” ZKOIRGO, Issue 6, 1864, p. 76. 34 “Iz puteshestvia arkhiepiskopa imeretinskogo Gavriila dlia obozrenia abkhazskikh i samurzakanskikh prikho- dov,” Kavkaz, No. 13-14, 1869; Z.V. Anchabadze, Iz istorii srednevekovoy Abkhazii, Sukhumi, 1959, p. 297. 35 See: A. Tsagareli, Mingrelskie etiudy, Issue I, St. Petersburg, 1880, pp. VII-VIII; idem, “Iz poezdki v Zakavka- zskiy kray,” Zhurnal Ministerstva narodnogo prosveshchenia, No. 12, 1877, p. 209. 36 See: A. Tsagareli, Mingrelskie etiudy, p. VII. 37 See: Ibid., p. VIII. 38 See: N. Albov, “Etnograficheskie nabliudenia v Abkhazii,” Zhivaia starina, Issue III, 1893, pp. 305, 324; A. Okumeli, “News from Samurzakano,” Kvali, No. 27, 1894 (in Georgian); K. Machavariani, “Religioznoe sostoianie Abkhazii,” Kutaisskie gubernskie vedomosti, No. 14, 1899. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 117 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Throughout the 19th century, the Megrelian language strengthened its position in Samurza- kano; the transfer from Abkhazian-Megrelian bilingualism to the new unilingualism (to Megrelian as the native language) took some time. According to information dating to the late 19th century, people living around Okumi mainly used Megrelian, although there were people who still spoke Abkhazian. In the villages along the banks of the Ingur (Saberio, Dikhazurga, and Chuburiskhinji), the transfer was complete, but old people still remembered that “in the olden days, Abkhazian was much more frequently used.”39 Early in the 20th century, linguist Iosif Kipshidze wrote about the relatively recent transfer to Megrelian and pointed out that until quite recently the Abkhazian language had been as widespread as Megrelian.40 The two languages coexisted in Samurzakano for a long time, which accounts for certain specifics of the locally used language. Avksenty Tsagareli pointed, in turn, to the phonetic and lexical specifics of the Megrelian language used in Samurzakano: it was not considered a “good Megrelian language” since it contained many Abkhazian words; certain sounds were used more frequently than in normal Megrelian and were more pronounced (for example, not infrequently “i” was replaced with “u,” etc.). Iosif Kipshidze wrote about the phonetically specific Samurzakano-Zugdidi dialect in the Megrelian language. In the 20th century, linguists pointed out that Abkhazian strongly affected the Megrelian language used by the people living in the Gali District. On the other hand, Nikolai Marr and Nikolai Yakovlev pointed to the “Samurzakano dialect” in the Abkhazian language. Shalva Inal- ipa also wrote that there was a Samurzakano dialect of the Abkhazians of the Gali District (the villages of Okumi and Chkhortoli, as well as the villages of Bedia and Reka in the neighboring Ochamchira District).41 There is enough information to confirm that in Samurzakano the Abkhazian and Megrelian languages coexisted and cooperated and that the latter gradually spread throughout the area. It seems that transfer of part of its population from bilingualism to one language proved to be the decisive factor affecting ethnic self-awareness. It seems, however, that linguistic and ethnic transfers were not always simultaneous. There is evidence that not infrequently the ethnic identity problem was subject to various short-term considerations. Contemporaries pointed to a sort of local Samurzakano identity: they did not count themselves among the Abkhazians or the Megrelians and “were proud to call themselves a special Samurzakano tribe.”42 The following fact says a lot about the specific features of the Samurzakano identity: in 1918, the Menshevik government of Georgia made an attempt to join Samurzakano to the Kutaisi Gubernia only to be forced two months later to return it to Abkhazia because the locals objected to “territorial and cultural alienation from Abkhazia” as extremely unfair.43 According to the population census of 1926, about 26% of the people of Samurzakano described themselves as Abkhazians (12 963 people); the majority, however, believed that Megrelian was their native language. Abkhazian was the native language for only 10.6% of those living in the Gali District (5,295); they lived mainly in the village communities of Agu-Bedia, Reka, Bedia I, Bedia II, Chkhor- toli, etc.44 It seems that they were mainly older people. In 1925, for example, Evgeny Schilling wrote that “younger people are gradually abandoning Abkhazian.”45 This means that there is enough information to show that the two languages long coexisted in Samurzakano and that the Megrelian language finally won. Even as late as the 1920s, the process of

39 N. Albov, op. cit., p. 305. 40 See: I. Kipshidze, Grammatika mingrelskogo (iverskogo) iazyka, St. Petersburg, 1914, p. XVII. 41 See: A. Tsagareli, Mingrelskie etiudy, p. IV; I. Kipshidze, op. cit., p. XVIII; M. Tsikolia, “Abkhazian Language in the Gali District,” in: Proceedings of the Abkhazian Institute of Language, Literature, and History, Vol. 30, 1959 (in Georgian); N. Ya. Marr, Plemennoy sostav naseleniia Kavkaza, Petrograd, 1920; N.F. Yakovlev, Yazyki i narody Kavka- za, Zakkniga, s.a., p. 13; Sh.D. Inal-ipa, Abkhazy, Sukhumi, 1965, p. 51. 42 N. Albov, op. cit., p. 306. 43 See: S. Basaria, op. cit., p. 103. 44 See: Vsesoiuznaia perepis naseleniia 1926 goda, Vol. 14, Moscow, 1926, pp. 100-101. 45 E.M. Schilling, “V Guadutskoy Abkhazii,” Etnografia, No. 1-2, 1926, p. 61. 118 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION one language squeezing out the other had not ended. In 1925, four villages in this district demanded that schools teach in both Abkhazian and Russian.46

Conclusion

The above confirms that language was an important factor in building the ethnic self-awareness of the Samurzakano people. The fairly long period of bilingualism contributed to the intensity of the ethnic processes underway in the district. It seems that language was the decisive factor of ethnic identity for the local population with an ethnically mixed traditional everyday culture provided the ethnic groups in contact remained close economically and culturally. Bilingualism, on the other hand, helped to preserve vague ethnic self-awareness. At the same time, it is impossible to ignore the following fact: Megrelian migration was a gradual process; the migrants adapted to the local order and accepted the local traditions, which helped the Abkhazians and Megrelians of Samurzakano to avoid considerable conflicts; the majority of the local villages had ethnically mixed populations. Abkhazian historian Arvelod Kuprava described the relations between the Megrels and Abk- hazians in the village of Repi in Samurzakano where his aunt (his father’s sister) lived in the 1930s as follows: “Repi was mainly a Megrelian village in Samurzakano Abkhazia; the best Abkhazian-Meg- relian traditions were intertwined in everyday life. The local people respected the norms of apsuar. Khimur, my father’s sister, was respected by the neighbors both as an individual and as an Abkhazian who cherished the noble Abkhazian traditions. Women attentively listened when she addressed me in Abkhazian, even though they did not understand it… All the neighbors knew about my arrival as soon as I came to stay with my aunt. They welcomed me, a small boy, into their homes as a respected guest and said tenderly, ‘Here is our small Abkhazian’.”47 This can be fully applied to all ethnically mixed villages of that time. The situation radically changed in the 1930s-1940s when migrants from Megrelia, Guria, Im- ereti, and Rachi moved (sometimes by force) in great numbers to Abkhazia. This tipped the ethnic balance and created the danger of conflicts. The Abkhazian-Georgian conflicts, however, are not a product of the different mentality of these peoples with a long history of peaceful coexistence behind them, but of the pernicious and short-sighted policy of the people in power.

46 See: V.A. Gurko-Kryazhin, Abkhazia, Moscow, 1926, p. 13. 47 A.E. Kuprava, Apsuara—traditsionnaia kultura abkhazov, Sukhum, 2007, p. 92. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 119 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

GEOHISTORY

Jamil HASANLI

D.Sc. (Hist.), Professor, Khazar University (Baku, Azerbaijan).

“THE IRANIAN EPOPEE” OF THE BOLSHEVIKS: THE DEEPENING CONFLICT IN THE SOUTHERN CASPIAN (1920-1921)

Abstract

he author traces the political proces- The Gilan adventure of the Bolsheviks and T ses unfolding on the southern coast the history of the so-called Iranian Soviet Re- of the Caspian during the first years of public were two links in a much longer chain Sovietization of Azerbaijan. He draws on a of conflicts triggered by the Bolshevization wide range of historical sources and earlier of the Southern Caucasus and Soviet ex- inaccessible archival documents to analyze, pansion in the Middle East on the whole. for the first time, the Bolsheviks’ policy in This is a history of the dramatic collisions the Gilan Province of Persia in 1920-1921. Soviet Russia imposed on Azerbaijan.

Introduction

In 1920, occupation of Azerbaijan and Baku, its oil-rich capital, was one of the two points in the Bolsheviks’ Eastern policy; Bolshevization of northern Iran was another key item on their agenda. Preparations began in January 1920: the Bolsheviks planned to capture Azerbaijan before making a massive thrust toward the East. There was a more or less concerted opinion in the Bolshevik ranks that 120 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION promotion of socialist ideas or even revolutions in Asia, particularly in the Middle and Near East, could compensate for the defeats of the revolutions and failure of the revolutionary ideas in Germany, Hungary, Finland, Austria, and elsewhere. This made Iran and Turkey a testing ground of sorts from which communist ideology was expected to spread far and wide.

Azerbaijan as a Springboard of the Bolshevist Thrust toward the East

Starting in April 1920, Sovietized Azerbaijan became one of the focal points of Soviet Russia’s Iranian policy: Moscow was busy planning its advance to Northern Iran and occupation of Azerbai- jan. In March 1920, the Bolsheviks finally arrived at a decision that Azerbaijan (by that time de facto recognized, together with Georgia, by the Paris Peace Conference on 11 January, 1919) should be captured. It was then that the Soviets made Operation Anzali part of their strategic plans. The trenches of the world socialist revolution were moved from the West to the East, which made the Muslim peoples of the former Russian Empire doubly important. For strategic considerations, Soviet Azerbaijan and its new leader Nariman Narimanov wanted to spread the socialist revolution to Iran and Turkey. In fact, Narimanov’s future depended on the success of the Bolshevist revolution on the Eastern front. On the one hand, as one of the top figures in the R.S.F.S.R. People’s Commissariats for Foreign Affairs and Nationalities, he was one of those who wanted to shift the export of revolution from the West to the East. He vehemently defended his point in heated discussions with Georgy Chicherin, Lev Karakhan, and other prominent officials of the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs. People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs Chicherin, for example, insisted that Soviet foreign policy directly depended on the nature of its agreements with the West. Narimanov, who harbored no illusions about the prospects for relations with the West, especially after the failed socialist revolutions in Europe, regarded the national-liberation movements in Iran and Turkey as the main road leading to the world revolution; the Entente, Britain in particular, he argued, should have been defeated in the Black Sea straits, at the gates to India, and in Iran and Af- ghanistan before Soviet Russia could move toward its aims in the West.1 He insisted that Britain should first be removed from Iran; he suggested that a “secret commission” on the Iranian file should be set up, and openly clashed with Chicherin over the best candidate for the commission’s head.2 “To the West via the East” remained Narimanov’s pet idea until his very last day and an apple of discord between him and the Center. On the other hand, Nariman Narimanov associated Azerbaijan’s place in the newly-created Soviet socialist geopolitical system and even his personal political fortunes with Bolshevization of the East. He expected that a turn from the West to the East would make Azerbaijan one of the leaders of the new world order and, by the same token, would move him into the political limelight as a figure of world stature. He and the camp of “national communists” he led never excluded the possibility that this might resolve the problem of Southern Azerbaijan.3 With the trenches of the new revolutionary

1 See: N. Narimanov to the Central Committee, Comrade I. Stalin. Copies to L. Trotsky and K. Radek. On the His- tory of Our Revolution in the margins, 1923, The Russian State Archives of Social-Political History (further RGASPI), rec. gr. 588, inv. 2, f. 176, sheet 27 (here and elsewhere archival documents are in Russian unless otherwise stated). 2 See: Letter from G. Chicherin to the Politburo C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 12.11.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 17, inv. 84, f. 103, sheet 3. 3 See: Letter from Gorobchenko, Moroz, and Zhukov to the C.C. of the Communist Party (Bolsheviks) of Azerbai- jan, to Dovlatov, Testimony by A. Akhmedov, 27.04.1928, Political Documents Archives at the Administration of the President of the Azerbaijan Republic (further APD UDP AR), rec. gr. 12, inv. 1, f. 152, sheets 24-25. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 121 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION front moved to Azerbaijan and extended further, Narimanov was determined to have the final say on the Eastern issue. Aware of this and unwilling to play into his hands, the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs and its head Chicherin kept the preparations for the Iranian revolution secret. Early in April 1920, the Turkestan Territorial Committee of the Adalyat Party, which was assigned the main role in fanning the revolutionary fire in Iran, convened a party conference in Tashkent to set up its leading structures; Narimanov was effectively kept away. This urged him to take action: as a first step he dispatched his confidential agent, experienced and tested Iranian revolutionary of Azeri extraction Haidar Khan Amu Ogly Tariverdiev to Turkestan. When he arrived, he stated in so many words that his prerogatives were similar to those held by Trotsky in Russia, that is, that he had been appointed as a military organizer of the Iranian revolution.4 In the spring of 1920, the process of putting together a revolutionary army to be sent to Iran began on the Caucasian and Turkestan fronts. In the Caucasus, this task rightly belonged to the leaders of Azerbaijan, yet certain structures in Moscow preferred to keep the Azeri army, the political orientation of which in the context of the Bolshevik occupation could not be trusted, out of the Iranian project. In June 1920, Georgy Chicherin sent Lenin a memo in which he justified his suspicions.5 On the other hand, for diplomatic reasons, Soviet Russia could have profited from sending the army of Soviet Azerbaijan to Iran. Under international pressure, Soviet Russia was not loath to shifting the burden of responsibility for the Iranian invasion to freshly Sovietized Azerbaijan so as to exonerate itself in the eyes of the West from exporting the revolution. This explains why at the very beginning of the Gilan expedition, the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), at the suggestion of the People’s Com- missariat for Foreign Affairs, decided that upon their arrival in Anzali, the Soviet ships should hoist Azeri flags.6 On 14 May, while an offensive on Anzali was still being prepared, the Iranian government sent a note to Soviet Russia in which it recognized Soviet Azerbaijan as an independent state and expressed its intention to conclude, in the near future, treaties with the government in Baku and with Soviet Russia. The document informed that Tehran had already dispatched missions to Baku and Moscow. The note said, in particular: “The Government and the Persian people are delighted with the decree that set up the Soviet Republic of Azerbaijan. This decree confirms that the Soviet government indeed wants to liberate the numerically small peoples and restore their rights, therefore, the Persian government is firmly convinced that the Soviet government will adhere to the decree of 1918 on Persian independence and annulment of the treaties concluded with Persia prior to the [October] revolution. Contrary to the expected improvement in Russian-Persian relations, the supply routes were closed. This probably happened because the Azeri and Russian governments feared for the safety of the steamships that entered Persian waters. The Persian government guaranteed that all steamships carrying Russian and Azeri flags would be returned to Russian and Azeri ports.”7 On 18 May, when the note reached Moscow, the ships of the Soviet Red Flotilla had already been shelling Anzali; on 23 May, Georgy Chicherin stated in a counter note that diplomatic relations between Iran and the Azerbaijan S.S.R. and R.S.F.S.R. were possible, while avoiding, as best as he could, the fact of Soviet occupation of Iranian territory. In an effort to produce the impression that the Russian Soviet government had learned about it post factum he described Operation Anzali as a personal initiative of the military, of which they had failed to inform the central government.8

4 See: V. Genis, Krasnaya Persiya, Bolsheviki v Gilane. 1920-1921, Moscow, 2000, sheet 194. 5 See: Copy of a memo from G. Chicherin to Lenin, 29.06.1920, APD UDP AR, rec. gr. 1, inv. 1, f. 2a, sheet 13. 6 See: Extract from protocol No. 15 of the plenary session of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.). On Eastern Policy. On Iran, 25.05.1920, APD UDP AR, rec. gr. 1, inv. 1, f. 2a, sheet 8. 7 Note of the Iranian government to the government of the R.S.F.S.R., 14.05.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 17, inv. 109, f. 100, sheet 1. 8 See: Dokumenty vneshney politiki SSSR, Vol. II, Moscow, 1953, pp. 542-543. 122 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

The Bolsheviks, however, were openly euphoric over their prompt operation, in the course of which they captured Anzali and the Iranian Caspian littoral. In the beginning, on 18 May, to be more exact, while the Azeri and Russian Red Flotilla was still moving toward Iran under Fedor Raskolnik- ov, it was possible to conceal the real intentions by stating that they intended to return the ships, weapons, and equipment left by General Denikin’s units. When the flotilla landed in Anzali, a Soviet mounted division, moving from Lenkoran, crossed the border, captured Astara, and moved to the port of Anzali. On 22 May, Commander of the Bolshevik Troops Fedor Raskolnikov openly contradicted what the Soviet Commissar for Foreign Affairs Chicherin said on 20 May: Chicherin announced that the Soviet troops had no intention of interfering in Iranian domestic affairs and had arrived in Anzali to collect the property of the White Guard; Raskolnikov, on the other hand, was much more outspo- ken, as befits a soldier: he stated in so many words that having recaptured the White Guard property the Soviet flotilla would remain in Anzali.9 In his telegram to Lenin, Raskolnikov reported that the military task in the Caspian had been fulfilled. On 23 May, 1920, Pravda triumphantly announced that with the occupation of Anzali the Caspian had become a Soviet sea. Twenty-three ships, 50 guns, 20 thousand shells, and other military materiel were removed from Anzali as Russian property. As soon as the news reached Baku, the Azeri Revolutionary Committee sent Raskolnikov a telegram of congratulations: “Having learned at its meeting of 19 May that the Red Flotilla occupied Anzali, the Revolutionary Committee of the Socialist Soviet Republic of Azerbaijan greets you and the heroic Red sailors in your person who liberated the working people of Persia and the East from the chains of slavery.”10 In fact, occupation of Anzali was nothing but another stage in Soviet Russia’s Eastern march started in Azerbaijan: Baku was occupied twenty days earlier. After crossing Azerbaijan and reaching the Iranian border, the Red Army invaded Astara and opened hostilities in the direction of Anzali and Ardabil.11 The Tabriz uprising which flared up on 7 April at almost the same time as the occupation of Anzali spread like wildfire from Southern Azerbaijan to neighboring regions. Headed by Sheikh Mohammad Khiabani, it was spearheaded against the British. On 23 May, Grigory (Sergo) Orjoni- kidze informed Moscow and asked for instructions: “Muslim units have occupied Ardabil; we can easily blast the whole of Persian Azerbaijan—Tabriz. We are proceeding cautiously so as not to be scolded once more, therefore I ask for an immediate answer. Here is my opinion: with the help of Kuchak Khan (Mirza Kuchak Khan, born Younes, was the leader of the Nehzat-e Jangal movement ([Forest Movement].—J.H.) and the Persian communists, we can proclaim Soviet power, capture one city after another, and drive the Brits out. The Middle East will be greatly impressed. Outwardly, everything will look very decent.”12 On 25 May, the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) discussed what the head of the Caucasian Bureau of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) had written and Raskolnikov’s information about the capture of Anzali and the revolutionary situation in Gilan; the discussion was registered on the agenda as On the Eastern Policy. The Politburo decided to approve the general political course suggested by the People’s Com- missariat for Foreign Affairs as helping the liberation movements of the peoples of the East. Raskol- nikov was instructed to use all means at his disposal, appoint instructors, and find other ways and means to help Kuchak Khan; Anzali and other Iranian settlements, occupied by Soviet troops, were to

9 See: Telegram from F. Raskolnikov to L. Trotsky and V.I. Lenin, 22.05.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 562, inv. 1, f. 21, sheet 1. 10 Telegram of the Revolutionary Committee of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. to F. Raskolnikov, 20.05.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 562, inv. 1, f. 21, sheet 51. 11 See: Le Gérant du Consulat de France à Tauris à M. Millerand Ministre des Affaires Etrangères. A. s. situation générale en Azerbaïdjan. Le 10 mai 1920, Ministère des Affaires Etrangère de France, Archives Diplomatique, Vol. 639, Folio 33. 12 Telegram from G. Orjonikidze to Lenin, Stalin and Chicherin, 23.05.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2, f. 38, sheets 2-3. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 123 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION be transferred to Kuchak Khan; all ships were to be removed from these ports; and it was to be announced that this had been done on the instructions of the Soviet government unwilling to interfere in Iran’s domestic affairs. It was said in the concluding part of the document that a necessary number of ships should be kept in Anzali allegedly for police functions under Azeri flags, in fact they were to be placed at the disposal of Kuchak Khan.13

Iran: Preparing for a Socialist Revolution

Lev Trotsky was even more specific in the telegram he sent to Fedor Raskolnikov on 26 May, 1920 about the directive of the Soviet government on the Iranian issue. Trotsky’s directives, clear and laconic, banned all military actions under the Russian flag or in the name of the Russian expeditionary corps; he directly referred to Moscow’s demand to withdraw the Russian troops and the navy from Anzali in order to remove all suspicion that Russia intended to interfere in Iran’s domestic affairs. At the same time, the Chairman of the Revolutionary Military Committee pointed out that Kuchak Khan and the entire people’s liberation movement in Iran should receive all possible assistance: volunteers, instructors, money, and other means, while the lands occupied by the Soviet troops were to be transferred to Kuchak Khan. If he needed warships, they could be used under the flag of the Azerbaijan Republic and support Kuchak Khan in the name of Azerbaijan. To fulfill the decisions of the Politburo, Lev Trotsky intended to set up a wide network of Soviet organizations in Iran. The Chairman of the Revolutionary Military Committee believed it necessary to convince the British that the Soviets had no intention of interfering in Iran’s domestic affairs, and nowhere in the East for that matter, and guaranteed that Soviet Russia would have no such plans in the future.14 Telegram of Lev Karakhan, Deputy People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs, to Raskolnikov dated 30 May recommended caution when carrying out Sovietization of Iran: “We cannot rely solely on the sentiments of the people in Anzali, Rasht, and the areas bordering on Azerbaijan when hypothesizing about the revolutionary sentiments of the entire country.” He believed that it was possible to unite the forces of Kuchak Khan, the Iranian communists, and other democratic groups and instill in them anti-British sentiments. He did not object to a state-administrative apparatus of the Soviet type being set up in Iran together with new power in the form of a Soviet government. He was convinced, however, that it should embrace a larger circle of the toiling masses including the bourgeois elements. This was the only way to drive the Brits out of Iran, which looked like a task of national importance.15 Late in May at a series of secret meetings (one of them took place on 27 May), Orjonikidze and Raskolnikov, who represented Soviet Russia, obtained permission for the Red Army and the Bolshevik fleet to remain in Gilan in exchange for promised support in the form of armored vehicles, planes, weapons, and ammunition. This and the transfer of the cities of Anzali and Rasht, occupied by Soviet troops, to the Jangali movement radically changed the attitude toward the So- viets. On 4 June, speaking at a rally in Rasht, Mirza Kuchak Khan, obviously carried away with revolutionary verve, glorified Soviet Russia’s liberation mission. The Soviet troops which, accord-

13 See: Protocol No. 15 of the sitting of the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.). On Eastern Policy. On Iran, 25.05.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 17, inv. 3, f. 83, sheet 1. 14 See: L. Trotsky’s directives to F. Raskolnikov, 26.05.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 562, inv. 1, f. 21, sheets 10-12. 15 See: Telegram from L. Karakhan to F. Raskolnikov and G. Orjonikidze, 30.05.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 562, inv. 1, f. 21, sheet 17. 124 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION ing to the earlier decisions of the Communist Party, should have returned to Baku were instead storming the nearest Iranian cities together with Kuchak Khan. After capturing Rasht, the Soviet representatives asked Baku to immediately dispatch more troops, armored carriers, planes, and other military equipment to Gilan.16 Despite the officially announced withdrawal of the Soviet troops from Gilan, the military units arriving from Baku, Astrakhan, and Krasnovodsk were used to create a five-thousand- strong Iranian Red Army.17 At first it was led by Ihsanullah Khan, a close associate of Kuchak Khan; later the Ira- nian Red Army was transferred to the Headquarters of the 11th Army; the Bolsheviks appointed their own commander, former czarist general Vassily (Shapur) Kargareteli. Kuchak Khan and his closest military advisers, Ihsanullah Khan and Khalu Qurban, correctly interpreted that as an act of mistrust, however, for a while, their military units remained independent. Despite the success of the Red Army in Gilan, the Soviets remained apprehensive of an international scandal. This much can be guessed from a telegram Trotsky sent Lenin, Chicherin, Kamenev, Krestinsky, and Bukharin on 4 June, 1920: “The entire body of information arriving from Khiva, Iran, Bukhara, and Afghanistan testifies that Bolshevik coups in these countries might create great problems for Russia. Soviet power remains fairly wobbly, even in Azerbaijan, despite the latter’s long- standing ties with Russia and the fact it has its own oil industry. In fact, a march to the East is no less detrimental; we should first stabilize the situation in the West and in our industry and transport.”18 His warning was not heard. In the small hours of 5 June, Gilan acquired an Intermediary Revolutionary Government headed by Kuchak Khan and the Iranian Military Revolutionary Council made up of Kuchak Khan’s associates and two Soviet representatives—Ivan Kozhanov and Batyrbek Abukov— who became Iranian citizens to be able to join the Gilan revolutionary movement; for this purpose Ivan Kozhanov changed his name to Ardashir. On 7 June, the people of Rasht learned about the manifesto of the Iranian Soviet Republic set up in Gilan.19 On 5 June, Commander of the United Russian and Azeri Caspian Military Flotilla Fedor Raskolnikov appointed Myuslyum Israfilov Charge d’Affairs ad interim of Soviet Russia under the head of the Iranian Revolutionary Government.20 The same day, Raskolnikov appointed Andrey Pylaev as military representative of the R.S.F.S.R. under the Head of the Iranian Revolutionary Government Kuchak Khan.21 The same day, Chairman of the Military-Revolutionary Council under the Iranian Revolutionary Government Mirza Kuchak Khan, Commander of the Armed Forces Ihsanullah Khan, and member of the Military-Revolutionary Coun- cil M. Muzaffar-zade sent a telegram of greetings to Chairman of the Revolutionary Military Council of the R.S.F.S.R. Lev Trotsky: “The Revolutionary Military Council of the Persian Republic newly formed under the decision of the Council of People’s Commissars of Persia sends its sincere greetings to the Red Army and Red Navy in the person of the creator of the strong Russian Red Army Comrade Trotsky… Soviet Power was established in Persia by the will of the toiling people who started building a Red Persian Army according to the principles of the Russian Red Army to annihilate the enslav- ers of the Persian people. Long live the fraternal union of the Russian Red Army and the young Per- sian Army.”22

16 Radiogram from Ivan (Ardashir) Kozhanov to Baku, G. Orjonikidze, 04.06.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2, f. 13, sheet 4. 17 See: L’Agent consulaire de France M. Duroy. Situation actuelle de l’Azerbaïdjan. Le 27 juillet 1920, Ministère des Affaires Etrangère de France, Archives Diplomatique, Vol. 639, Folio 150. 18 Persidskiy front mirovoy revolutsii. Dokumenty o sovetskom vtorzhenii v Gilan (1820-1821), Moscow, 2009, sheet 47. 19 See: Manifesto of the Iranian Soviet Republic in Gilan, 07.06.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 562, inv. 4, f. 32, sheets 53-54. 20 See: M. Israfilov’s Certificate, 05.06.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 562, inv. 1, f. 21, sheet 31. 21 See: A. Pylaev’s Certificate, 05.06.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 562, inv. 1, f. 21, sheet 30. 22 Telegram of greetings from the Military-Revolutionary Council of the Persian Republic to Chairman of the Mili- tary-Revolutionary Council of the R.S.F.S.R. L. Trotsky, 05.06.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 562, inv. 1, f. 21, sheet 44. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 125 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

On 8 June, the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) discussed the situation in Iran and decided to recall Fedor Raskolnikov, who had been appointed Commander of the Baltic Fleet even before the Gilan expedition, to allow Abukov and Kozhanov to continue their activities as volunteers with Ira- nian citizenship; it was also decided that Chicherin would draft instructions for the communists working in the East.23 On 14 June, Georgy Chicherin was ready with the flattering party assignment; his Theses on the Work of Communists in the East were sent far and wide to all relevant structures. It was commonly believed in the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs that the document should be generalizing and should be worded as theses in view of the very different national and mental specifics of the different peoples of the East. The People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs insisted that communist activities in the East should not be associated with the policy of the Soviet government and its representatives. He was convinced that when addressing the revolutionary masses in the East, the communists should avoid specific promises in the name of the Soviet Government; they should merely explain the revolutionary mission of Soviet power and the R.S.F.S.R. with the exception of cases when there was an official decision on intervention (such was the case of the occupied disputed territories in the Caucasus).24 Late in June, the Free Iran armored carrier arrived from Baku; at approximately the same time, a Tatar Special Purpose Unit of 700 to 800 arrived from Azerbaijan to become part of the Iranian Red Army. The events in Gilan were heatedly discussed at the First Congress of the Iranian Communist Party (ICP) held on 22-24 June, 1920. As soon as Raskolnikov left for the Baltics, the Soviet representatives clashed for the top posts in Gilan. The representatives from Baku were especially concerned about the hectic activities of member of the Comintern Executive Committee Mamed Hasan Sultan-zade (alias of Avetis Mikaelyan), who had the Center behind him. In April 1920, at the First Territorial Conference of the Adalyat Party in Tashkent, Haidar Khan Amu Ogly, on instructions from Nariman Narimanov, openly stated that Mamed Hasan Sultan-zade (Avetis Mikaelyan in the not so distant past) should not be elected member of the Territorial Committee of Adalyat.25 At first, it had been planned to convene the First Congress of the Iranian Communist Party in Baku, but delegates inspired by the lightning conquest of Gilan transferred the meeting to Anzali. The congress gathered together about 60 delegates, the majority of whom had emigrated in their youth and settled mainly in Azerbaijan. The first sitting was opened by Kamran Aga-zade, who arrived from Baku; the delegates elected honorary chairmen of the presidium: Chairman of the Council of People’s Commissars of the R.S.F.S.R. Lenin, Chairman of the Council of People’s Commissars of Azerbaijan N. Narimanov, member of the C.C. Communist Party of Azerbaijan (Bolsheviks), former member of the Meshrute (Freedom) movement in Iran Dadash Bunyatzade and Victor Naneyshvili, Secretary of the C.C. Az.C.P. (B.), who arrived, on instructions from the Center, in Anzali from Baku together with 20 more delegates. Mir Bashir Gasymov greeted the congress in the name of the Baku Soviet. The elected presidium consisted of representatives of Turkestan Avetis Sultan-zade and Mamedgulu Alikhanov, representatives of Baku Kamran Aga-zade and Mir Jafar Javad-zade (Seyyid Jafar Pishe- vari). Despite a decision in favor of Mirza Kuchak Khan, the communists were dissatisfied with what he was doing and believed that he was the main obstruction to the anticipated socialist revolution. Sharp contradictions between Kuchak Khan and A. Sultan-zade, well-known for his leftist views and elected head of the C.C. I.C.P., flared up immediately after the congress. Mirza Kuchak Khan believed that the Interim Revolutionary Government with him as its head had completed the revolution, while Sultan-zade insisted that it had been a beginning. This explains why after the congress the com-

23 See: Extract from Protocol No. 18 of the sitting of Politburo C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 08.06.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 17, inv. 3, f. 86, sheets 1-4. 24 See: G. Chicherin, Theses on the Work of Communists in the East, 14.06.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 2, inv. 2, f. 312, sheet 2. 25 See: V. Genis, op. cit., p. 126. 126 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION munists formulated a new aim: to deepen the Iranian socialist revolution and spread it across the East. To achieve this they had to remove Kuchak Khan.26 Early in July, the communists who wanted to capture power set up (without consulting Mos- cow) the Iranian Bureau under the C.C. Az.C.P. (B.) consisting of the following people: Nariman Narimanov and Polikarp (Budu) Mdivani who represented the C.C. R.C.P. (B.); Anastas Mikoyan and Vissarion Lominadze from the C.C. Az.C.P. (B.); and Dadash Bunyatzade and Mamed-kuli Alikhanov from the C.C. I.C.P. All of them were elected to the C.C. Az.C.P. (B.) after the April coup. According to Russian historian M. Persits, the Azeri leaders needed Sovietization of Iran to reunify, some time in the future, Iranian Azerbaijan with Soviet Azerbaijan.27 With the Iranian Bureau operating in Baku, the trend toward a communist revolution in Gilan became even more obvious. Avetis Sultan-zade enthusiastically suggested that the bourgeois-democratic trend of Kuchak Khan should be replaced with an absolutely communist movement. What had been already agreed with Kuchak Khan was rudely distorted. B. Agaev and B. Mdivani, who arrived from Baku, B. Abukov, an active participant in the Gilan events, and others came forward with ideas that the newly formed Iranian Communist Party could neither accept nor realize. Kuchak Khan dearly paid for the telegram to Lenin in which he asked him to send people to Gilan with previous revolutionary experience in Russia (Budu Mdivani, in the first place who had lived in Iran).28 The Organizing Bureau of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) fulfilled this request: on 21 July, Budu Mdivani set off for Iran. After assessing everything that had taken place in Gilan, he concluded that the Iranian Communist Party should move to the forefront of the revolutionary movement to become its leader: “Today, the authority of Mirza Kuchak Khan is limited to Gilan. If he fails to develop into a large-scale revolutionary figure he should disappear—probably very soon… Baku will for a long time remain a reserve of the communist party cadres” and further: “We should create a military and political base for the work in Azerbaijan and Julfa… The department of foreign affairs should put together partisan detachments, units of demolition sappers, and terrorist groups. Terror should be aimed against the shah and his government, all enemies of the Persian revolution and representatives of the British authorities.” Mdivani outlined a vast territory of the partisan war: Kasr-i Shirin, Kermanshah, Khamadan, Kazvin, and Tehran as far as the Basra-Bagdad railway.29 On 18 July, Russian sailors, the main striking force of the I.C.P., suddenly rebelled in Rasht: they no longer wanted to fight and demanded to be sent back to Russia. The blow was a hard one: it killed the dream of a communist revolution in Iran, revealed that the hopes to reach the Basra-Bagdad railway were nothing but an illusion, and buried the plans of a worldwide revolution. On 20 July, the Iranian Bureau dispatched a unit of 1,000 to put down the uprising in Anzali.30 On 20 July, the C.C. I.C.P. met in Rasht and ruled that Kuchak Khan and his supporters should be deposed. Anastas Mikoyan delivered a long report in which he insisted on his pet idea that the historical logic of the Iranian Revolution would inevitably bring the communists to power. On the whole, an analysis of the events shows that Moscow had no clear or long-term program for Iran. While the Bolsheviks whom the C.C. Az.C.P. (B.) sent to Iran were brimming with revolutionary enthusiasm and were determined to stage a socialist revolution in Iran, certain circles in Moscow intended, from the very beginning, to use the Gilan events to put pressure on Britain. For example, while the Iranian Bureau passed a decision to depose Kuchak Khan, Lev Karakhan wrote in an urgent

26 See: S.M. Aliev, Istoria Irana. XX vek, Moscow, 2004, p. 123; Materials of the First Congress of the Iranian Communist Party Adalyat, June 1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 495, inv. 90, f. 4, sheets 1-4. 27 See: M.A. Persits, Zastenchivaya interventsia. O sovetskom vtorzhenii v Iran i Bukharu v 1920-1921 gg., Mos- cow, 1999, p. 110. 28 See: Telegram from Mirza Kuchak Khan to Lenin, 17.07.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 17, inv. 112, f. 53, sheet 42. 29 See: Report from B. Mdivani at the sitting of the Iranian Bureau, 20.07.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 64, inv. 1, f. 20, sheets 32-35. 30 See: Secret Information about a Revolt of Sailors in Rasht, 20.07.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 495, inv. 90, f. 15, sheets 9-14. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 127 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION telegram to Orjonikidze and Narimanov: “We have absolutely no information about the situation in Persia; we received no answers to our questions. We got information from other sources, however, that allegedly the Persian government wanted the port facilities in Anzali to be transferred to it. Which government? To answer these questions Kuchak Khan should appoint his representative in Moscow as soon as possible, as we telegraphed you more than once and got no response. On our side, we have already written to you that we prefer to see Prof. Gaffarov, who works with us, appointed to this post. This appointment has become very important in view of the talks in London and our probable demands that the British troops should be removed from Persia and that the British-Persian Trea- ty of 1919 should be annulled… These demands should be confirmed by a representative of Kuchak Khan in Moscow.”31 Konstantin Gauk, personal interpreter of Kuchak Khan, and Mir Salekh Muzaf- far-zade obeyed these instructions and arrived in Moscow where they negotiated with Chicherin and Karakhan for three weeks. For some reason, late in August, when they returned, they were arrested on an order from Mdivani. Mirza Kuchak Khan, meanwhile, knew that the Bolshevik idea to stir up a socialist revolution in Iran was absolutely unfounded and senselessness. On 20 July, 1920, in his telegram to Lenin, he wrote that Iran was not prepared to fight for socialism and promised that as soon as the capital city of Tehran had been captured he would perform a political U-turn and inspire the people to engage in an open struggle against capitalism. He wrote in particular, “Later, when we have enough supporters we shall finally part ways with everyone who does not like our ideas.” He rejected the revolutionary violence that had recently taken place in Azerbaijan and that damaged the social group of petty merchants. He complained that, while the treaty with the Azeri government signed late in June guaranteed inviolability of property of the Iranian citizens, the guarantees had been openly violated. He feared that this might damage the revolutionary cause in Iran, the social basis of which consisted mainly of petty owners, or even undermine the revolutionary process in the East. Kuchak Khan concluded his telegram by saying that he planned to send his representatives to Baku to till the soil for future relations with Soviet Azerbaijan and Russia in the political, economic, and military spheres and that mutual understanding in these spheres would speed up the revolution in the East, help achieve a final victory over the British and capitalists, and bring closer the world revolution.32

The Communist Movement in Iran Splits

On 30 July, 1920, a joint secret meeting of the C.C. I.C.P. and representatives of the leftist forces in the government of the Gilan Soviet Republic decided, in violation of earlier promises, to remove Kuchak Khan and repress his supporters. The next day, the coup staged on the strength of this decision brought a new government to power in Gilan headed, at the suggestion of the Bolsheviks who had been sent to Iran, by Ihsanullah Khan. The same day, Matilda Bulle, member of the C.C. I.C.P. and the Military-Revolutionary Council of Iran, sent a radiogram about the communist coup in Gilan; she wrote that the communists and leftist forces had captured power and formed an Interim Revolu- tionary Committee of eight members.33 The new government intended to requisition means of production and distribute the large private landed possessions among the peasants; this could not be done without the use of force and was intended to ensure success of the planned march on Tehran.

31 Urgent telegram from L. Karakhan to G. Orjonikidze and N. Narimanov, 23.07.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 64, inv. 1, f. 25, sheet 277. 32 See: Telegram from M. Kuchak Khan to Lenin, 20.07.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2, f. 23, sheets 120-122. 33 Radiogram about a communist coup in Gilan, 31.07.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 454, inv. 1, f. 22, sheet 61. 128 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Kuchak Khan and his closest associates returned to the Gilan forests and installed themselves in Fumene, their old camp. The communists tried to encircle and destroy him, but failed in a fierce clash which claimed the lives of Kuchak Khan’s 400 devoted supporters and caused a huge loss of life among the soldiers brought from Azerbaijan and Russia.34 Significantly, in his letter to Lenin Kuchak Khan named the communists involved in these events and accused Soviet Azerbaijan. He wrote that despite the protests of the Iranian Republic, the Azeri government retracted on its own promise to return the confiscated goods of Iranian merchants to Iran, which were supposed to be used for the needs of the Iranian Red Army and the local people. Kuchak Khan used these facts to ask Lenin to confirm the earlier promises that Soviet Azerbaijan would not interfere in Iran’s domestic affairs, that it would protect, according to the earlier promises, the lives and property of the Iranian citizens in Soviet Azerbaijan, and that, in view of the fact that Iran was an Eastern country, a program of continued activities of the Communist Party was indispensable.35 On 13 July, the Revolutionary Committee of Azerbaijan passed the following decision on the question of the Iranian merchants’ property: “Since everything the merchants owned was created by the sweat and blood of the toiling people, and since there is workers’ and peasants’ power in Azerbai- jan, the confiscated goods should not be returned. We should prevent the merchant extortionists from leaving Baku for Persia: upon arrival they will start counterrevolutionary propaganda and incite the ignorant masses against the revolutionary movement, thus slowing down the revolutionary cause in Persia.”36 The Iranian merchants lost goods totaling 30 million gold rubles.37 This contradicted the treaty the Azerbaijan S.S.R. and the Iranian Soviet Republic signed in June 1920. Under Point 1 of the treaty, Iranian citizens arrested in Soviet Azerbaijan were to be liberated and transferred to the Iranian Revolutionary Government; under Point 2, Azerbaijan pledged to help repatriate Iranian citizens.38 Finally, Nariman Narimanov had to issue a decree in the name of the Revolutionary Committee of Azerbaijan, under which the confiscated goods were returned.39 Anastas Mikoyan, one of the ideologists personally involved in the Gilan coup, returned to Baku as soon as Kuchak Khan had been deposed. On 3 August, he presented a long report On Persia to a sitting of the Politburo and the Organizing Bureau of the C.C. Az.C.P. (B.), which produced the following decision: “Place Haidar Khan Amu Ogly at the head of the Persian government; dispatch to Iran one Azeri brigade and one armored vehicle; appoint B. Mdivani as representative of Azer- baijan and transfer the military mission to him; send goods to Iran without damaging the interests of the Azerbaijan Republic; and entrust Sarkis Sarkisov (Danielyan) with the task of checking the quality of the returned goods, etc.”40 The point about sending Azeri troops to Iran was promptly fulfilled: on 11 August, an Azeri regiment of 1,200 people headed for Gilan.41 Significantly, the central Soviet government knew very little about the Gilan developments and lacked a consistent program of how to act in the East, in Iran in this particular case. All events were assessed post factum as resulting from unauthorized initiatives of the Bolsheviks sent to the Caucasus and ignited by the enthusiasm of those who had been actively Sovietizing Azerbaijan and who wanted

34 See: S. Rustamova-Tokhidi, Eastern Policy of the Comintern and Iran. 1919-1943, Baku, 2001, p. 179 (in Azeri). 35 See: Letter from Mirza Kuchak Khan to Lenin, 04.08.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 2, inv. 2, f. 361, sheets 6-7. 36 From a survey of activities of the Iranian Bureau, September 1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 64, inv. 1, f. 20, sheet 28. 37 See: Letter from B. Shakhtakhtinsky to the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), August 1923, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2c, f. 3, sheet 50. 38 See: Treaty between the Iranian Soviet Republic and Azerbaijanian SSR, June 1920. APD UDP AR, rec. gr. 1, inv. 45, f. 210, sheet 103. 39 See: Letter from B. Shakhtakhtinsky to the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), August 1923, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2c, f. 3, sheet 50. 40 Extract from the protocol of a joint sitting of the Political and Organizing Bureaus of the C.C. Az.C.P. (B.), 03.08.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 64, inv. 1, f. 20, sheets 45-46. 41 Persidskiy front mirovoy revolutsii, p. 153. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 129 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION to spread the revolution further to the East. Moscow was guided by the desire to tap the Gilan events to the utmost to put pressure on Britain. For example, on 3 August, at the height of the developments in Gilan, People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs Chicherin, one of the main protago- nists of the Gilan adventure, wrote to Lev Kamenev: “There are rumors that Mirza Kuchak Khan has disappeared; he probably fled to the Brits, which is unimportant; his commander-in-chief, who is much more leftist, replaced him. Soviet Persia will continue living without him. Kuchak is useful because he is popular, but his total lack of understanding of revolutionary policy and excessive sluggishness and prudence are harmful. He cannot be daring—something which is needed today. His commander-in-chief will cope much better… Our positions in the East are strengthening; the armies are filled with revolutionary sentiments; this means that the reactionary state order is shaky… With the help of the Persian movement we have passed a point of no return. It is absolutely clear that the tempo and intensity of our involvement in the East will depend on our British policy. When talking to the Brits, we should consistently point out that if they start a war in Europe they will never achieve anything except incur minor losses on us in the periphery. At the same time, if we tap all the resources we have in the East, we shall be able to deliver a crushing blow to Britain’s international positions.”42 Georgy Chicherin, who on 3 August boasted of the revolutionary gains in the East, on 4 Au- gust complained to the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) about the very difficult situation in North- ern Iran, which had been Sovietized under the Azeri flag: “The situation is serious to the extent that we suggest that the Politburo should immediately, this very minute, dispatch to Persia someone with a wider world outlook and much more respected than Comrade Mdivani.” He suggested Shal- va Eliava, who, he believed, would put everything on the right tracks.43 On 5 August, the plenary session of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), having discussed the situation in Persia, decided to dispatch Shalva Eliava for a certain period of time so that he, working together with Sergo Orjonikidze, would set things right.44 Despite the hectic efforts of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), the first onslaught of the Iranian Red Army on Tehran in mid-August ended in an ignominious failure: after fighting at Menjil and sustaining heavy losses, the Iranian Red Army had to retreat. The Bolsheviks who had been sent to Gilan explained the defeat by the extremely low battle-worthiness of the Iranian déclassé elements hurriedly mobilized in Russia and the Caucasus; the units sent from Azerbaijan did not want to fight at all.45 The onslaught on Tehran was realized by the 2nd Azeri Regiment (1,607 soldiers and 23 machineguns) with no fighting experience or even military training. It had been sent from Baku to Anzali together with the 244th Regiment of the 28th Russian Division under Orjonikidze’s personal (and totally unmotivated) order. Having suffered a crushing defeat in the Menjil and Kazvin directions, which placed the Soviet structures face to face with the threat of evacuating Rasht, they asked for 1,500 well-trained soldiers from Soviet Russia. The city changed hands several times until its population of 45 thousand fled their ruined and plundered homes. Several thousand who sought shelter in the mountains died from the harsh weather; others, who wandered from one village to another, spread negative information about the communists. In the mosques, imams called for a holy jihad against the Bolsheviks. The British garrison of Menjil, in turn, welcomed the refugees and supplied them with food, clothing, and transport.46

42 Telegram from G. Chicherin to L.B. Kamenev, 03.08.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 2, inv. 2, f. 359, sheet 1. 43 See: Letter from G. Chicherin to the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 4.08.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 2, inv. 2, f. 361, sheet 9. 44 See: Extract from Protocol No. 5 (33) of the plenary session of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 05.08.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 17, inv. 2, f. 33, sheet 1. 45 See: Telegram from the Commanders of the 11th Army to Member of the Revolutionary Military Council of the Caucasian Front V.A. Trifonov, 05.09.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 8, f. 23, sheet 277. 46 See: S. Rustamova-Tokhidi, op. cit., p. 181. 130 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Late in August, driven into a tight corner and willing to restore the lost positions in Iran, the Caucasian Bureau of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) issued several decisions: on 21 August, it asked Moscow to dispatch 1,200 more soldiers for a repeat march on Tehran; in an attempt to accelerate the developments in Iran and to settle scores with Azerbaijan, it asked for 1,100 thousand Iranian tomans.47 The financial transactions were treated as a priority: before the money arrived from Moscow the People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs of Azerbaijan Mirza Davud Huseinov was instructed to pay the money from the gold reserves of Azerbaijan “to speed up the developments in Iran.”48 Two days later, the Caucasian Bureau of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), having discussed the military situation, decided that the loss of Anzali and Rasht could not be accepted; more troops should been sent to Iran to strengthen the front.49 On 9 September, 1920, after the August defeat, Lev Karakhan summarized the Soviet policy in Iran in a long letter to the C.C. R.C.P. (B.): “Political mistakes and political blunders have compro- mised the cause of the revolution in the Gilan Province. Revolutionary power did not have enough time to win the sympathies of the people, particularly the peasants. The fact that Russians, Armenians, and Georgians (seen as foreigners) were involved and behaved as conquerors promptly set the entire population against us and decreased its hostile attitude toward the British, while the merchants even sided with them.” He offered his analysis of the events in Gilan: “The loss of Persia to the British will deliver a serious blow to our international position (as a demonstration of our weakness), especially in Britain. It will realize that in the East we present no danger, that we can do very little, and beat a retreat in the face of the slightest difficulty.” After summing up the information that arrived from Iran, Karakhan also relied on a report from Eliava to suggest political options: “(1) The forces in Anzali should be strengthened by an expeditionary corps of 8 to 10 thousand, which will allow us to capture Tehran, depose the Shah’s government and move further on until we drive the Brits out of Persia. A non-communist government of the Soviet type will be set up in Tehran, to which national-democratic elements should also be invited. This government should rely on peasants while not infringing (for the time being) on the interests of commercial capital. Eliava is quite prepared to realize this plan and has the necessary number of assistants; (2) We should pull out of Persia while retaining our military presence in Anzali; enter into negotiations with the Shah’s government (with which we have never severed relations and with which we maintain correspondence), send our diplomatic mission to Tehran and conclude an agreement of friendship… It is for the C.C. to choose one of the two options. Po- litically, the first option is preferable because of its immediate effect and because it will deliver a blow to Britain. In the context of the current political changes, this will favorably affect the train of thought of Lloyd George and Curzon and demonstrate that we present a serious and direct threat to Britain, that our aggression in the East directly depends on the way Britain treats us: we will respond to a blow with another blow... If the C.C. approves of the first option we should set up a commission of representatives of the Comintern, Peoples’ Commissariat for Foreign Affairs, and the C.C. R.C.P. to draw up plans and instructions for Eliava.”50 Twenty-four hours later the Caucasian Bureau of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) discussed the situation in Iran and decided to dispatch an armed unit of 1,200 to keep Anzali and Rasht. Haidar Khan Amu Ogly

47 Toman—an Iranian gold coin equal at that time to approximately 0,3 pound sterling. 48 Extract from a protocol of a sitting of the Caucasian Bureau C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 21.08.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 64, inv. 1, f. 1, sheet 6. 49 See: Extract from a protocol of a sitting of the Caucasian Bureau C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 23.08.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 64, inv. 1, f. 1, sheet 13. 50 Letter from L. Karakhan to the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 09.09.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 2, f. 208, sheet 1. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 131 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION was sent to Tabriz, the Iranian Bureau in Baku was closed down, while all of its files were transferred to the Caucasian Bureau of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.); S. Kirov, Sh. Eliava, and E. Stasova were instructed to set up a Propaganda and Action Council of the Peoples of the East stationed in Baku.51 While these decisions were discussed and finally made, the Iranian Bureau mobilized volunteers for the Iranian Red Army (635 of the 832 volunteers were from Azerbaijan).52 The defeat of the ill-considered onslaught on Tehran forced the Bolsheviks stationed in Iran to revive the idea of cooperation with Mirza Kuchak Khan. In the latter half of August, Budu Mdi- vani tried to shift the responsibility for the split with the communists to Kuchak Khan; on 9 Sep- tember he was ready to cooperate with him: “If you really want to bring freedom to Iran and its unfortunate people, if you want this with all your heart, I will be very glad to join you with confidence. Let’s talk and agree to work together.”53 In his letter dated 11 September, Kuchak Khan insisted on some of his points, but agreed to meet Mdivani and cooperate with the Soviets.54 The process proved to be a long one: a formal agreement (and short-lived at that) was signed early in May 1921. The First Congress of the Peoples of the East, which opened in Baku on 1 September, 1920, concentrated on the Gilan events. It was attended by over 2 thousand delegates (over 200 of them came from Iran). By way of explaining why the congress was initiated by Moscow, member of the Italian Caucasian Mission Alexander Bodrero wrote: “Despite the fact that the congress in Baku gathered representatives of the peoples living throughout the vast territory between Bulgaria and Japan, it was absolutely clear that it was organized for the subjugated peoples of Asia Minor and Central Asia.”55 On 1 September, Chairman of the Azeri Revolutionary Committee Nariman Nar- imanov ceremoniously opened the First Congress of the Peoples of the East: “The gray-haired East, which was the first to explain to us what morality and culture meant, will weep today and talk about the grief and the grave wounds inflicted on it by the capital of the bourgeois countries. These peoples of the East, each of them, live their own lives; they cannot remain ignorant of the horror and the oppressive influence of this capital. Today, having familiarized themselves with the situation in each of them, they will acquire a complete picture and only then will all the peoples of the East learn about the oppressive burden of this capital. This will force them to unite and they will arrive at the same conclusion: namely, that they need to pool forces to liberate themselves and break the chains of this capital.”56 The agenda was overburdened, although most of the points were related, directly or indirectly, to the Iranian developments. In view of the importance of the Gilan revolution and in order to arm the Iranian delegates with socialist ideas, all reports and other contributions were translated into Farsi. Grigory Zinoviev and Karl Radek spoke at the congress as representatives of Soviet Russia and the Comintern; both were obviously anti-British. Haidar Khan Amu Ogly spoke on behalf of the Iranian delegation and delivered the main report. He, however, said nothing about the blunders and errors of the Iranian revolution; the futile Bolshevik efforts to build communism in Gilan; or the activities of the leftist group that closed ranks around the leader of the C.C. I.C.P. A. Sultan-zade (Mikaelyan). It was Narimanov who insisted that Amu Ogly, not Sultan-zade,

51 See: Extract from a protocol of a meeting of the Caucasian Bureau C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 10.09.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 64, inv. 1, f. 1, sheet 16. 52 See: From a survey of the activities of the Iranian Bureau, September 1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 64, inv. 1, f. 20, sheet 32. 53 Letter from B. Mdivani to Kuchak Khan, 09.09.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 495, inv. 90, f. 11, sheets 5-6. 54 See: Letter from Mirza Kuchak Khan to B. Mdivani, 11.09.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 495, inv. 90, f. 49, sheet 23. 55 A. Bodrero, Report on his trip to Baku, 18 September 1920, Archives d’Ali Mardan-bey Toptchibachi. Carton No. 1. Le Centre d’études des mondes Russe, Caucasien et Centre-Européen (CERCEC), l’École des Hautes études en Sciences Sociales (EHESS, Paris), p. 9. 56 The First Congress of the Peoples of the East. Verbatim Report, Baku, 1-7 September, 1920, Petrograd, 1920, pp. 27-28. 132 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION should address the second sitting of the Congress in the name of the Iranian communists. Karl Radek, one of the Congress’s leaders, later reported to the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) that in the course of the Congress it had turned out that “the Azeri comrades, with Narimanov as their head, refused to work with a group of Persian comrades headed by Sultan-zade that had already developed into a communist party… The Azeris placed their stakes on Haidar Khan who, they believed, would develop into a leader of the revolutionary-democratic movement. At the Congress, both Haidar Khan and Sultan-zade outwardly obeyed the discipline of the Comintern. After the Congress, however, Sultan-zade was actually elbowed out of party activities in Baku.”57 Radek pointed out that Haidar Khan, with the Azeri leaders behind him, was moving to the forefront of the Iranian developments. The Iranian side was well aware that Soviet Azerbaijan was interfering in the Gilan developments. The Iranian consul in Tiflis protested against it in a note to the Foreign Ministry of Azerbaijan of 13 September, 1920.58

The Baku Congress of the Peoples of the East and the End of the First Stage of the Gilan Revolution

On 4 September, while still at the Congress in Baku, Haidar Khan gathered 121 Iranian delegates to talk about the mistakes the C.C. I.C.P. had made during the Gilan events. The list was a long one: severing ties with Kuchak Khan; failure to fulfill the decisions of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.); discontinued financing of the Gilan Republic (explained by its disagreements with the national- revolutionary forces); defection of a large number of Tehran Cossacks to the counterrevolutionar- ies (when the Khamadan Cossack detachment was disarmed in Rasht); deliberate interference in Kuchak Khan’s successful operations; the obvious inability to draw the revolutionary-minded part of the population of Tehran, Tabriz, and Astara to its side; failure of the march on Mazandaran; inability to set up a state apparatus capable of correctly and honestly executing the decisions of the C.C.; maltreatment of the peasants; criminal retreat from Rasht, etc.59 In fact, Haidar Khan and his supporters, who gathered to accuse the C.C. IRC of leftism, were just as leftist themselves. He believed that the units of Iranian internationalists could be used to build an Iranian national Red Army based in Baku to be sent to capture Tabriz, establish a Soviet republic there, and move on to Tehran. The results of the Baku Congress of the Peoples of the East revealed that politically and ideolog- ically it was geared toward the interests of Soviet Russia. Moscow had done nothing to camouflage the anti-British nature of the first large-scale meeting of the communist and leftist organizations of the peoples of the East. A month later, Foreign Secretary of the UK Lord Curzon wrote in a note to Chich- erin that the congress “raised a veritable storm of propaganda, intrigues and conspiracies against the British interests and British power in Asia.”60 The Congress had barely closed down with suitable pomp when Narimanov received a letter from Chicherin in which, speaking in the name of C.C.

57 V. Genis, op. cit., p. 272. 58 See: Note of the Iranian Consul in Tiflis to the Peoples’ Commissar for Foreign Affairs of the Azerbaijanian S.S.R. 13.09.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 17, inv. 86, f. 125, sheet 33. 59 See: Resolution of the meeting of the Persian group of communist delegates to the First Congress of the Peoples of the East, 04.04.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 495, inv. 90, f. 5, sheets 7-8. 60 S. Rustamova-Tokhidi, op. cit., p. 144. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 133 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

R.C.P. (B.), the People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs instructed Narimanov to stay away from the Iranian revolutionaries so as not to undermine relations with Britain. The letter and the recommenda- tions were an echo of the mounting British pressure on Soviet Russia. The First Congress of the Peoples of the East held in Baku demonstrated that the Soviets regarded Azerbaijan as the hub of the anti-imperialist struggle. Moscow intended to use the Azeri and Cen- tral Asian Muslims to deliver a heavy blow to Great Britain’s prestige in the Middle East, squeeze the European countries from the region, and impose Soviet conditions on London. In 1921, on the eve of signing a treaty with the UK, Head of the Soviet Government Lenin, in an effort to mobilize the peoples of the East against Britain, issued secret instructions to the Soviet diplomatic service: “Oblige Sokolnikov to set up, as if by chance, a Horasan Soviet republic by spring; send special envoys to Baku and Tashkent to explain to them that they should double their attacks on British imperialism in the name of Azerbaijan and Bukhara, but not in our name and never mentioning it either in notes or letters… All Eastern peoples should be informed verbally through ambassadors without a single written confirmation that we shall cheat Britain.”61 Sent to Gilan, Eliava failed to improve the situation on the front; on 14 September, in his telegram to Moscow, he formulated three options of Soviet Russia’s Iranian policy: complete occupation of Iran with the center in Kazvin-Tehran and redeployment of the Red Army to Iranian Azerbaijan, which bor- dered on Soviet Azerbaijan. He believed that this would not only fortify the Soviet positions around Baku, but also make it possible to press on toward Kermanshah. Under the second option, Soviet Russia could start talking to the Iranian government formally in an anti-British, but actually in an Anglophilic, vein and, having exploited this for propaganda purposes, launch military operations some time in the future to ensure Russia’s interests in Iran. Under the third option, military units and political agitators should be replaced in Gilan with people who understood what Russia wanted in the East. Shalva Eliava had to admit that there were no Iranians in the Iranian Communist Party.62 The next day Eliava tried to convince Chicherin that Anzali, Russia’s “gates” in the Caspian, should be preserved: Soviet control over Anzali would deprive the British of the chance to set up an air base there to bomb Baku. On the other hand, in the event of talks in Tehran, Anzali could be used as a lever of pressure.63 The government of Ihsanullah Khan set up late in July 1920 proved to be short-lived. By mid- September, its communist members were replaced with members of the bourgeoisie and even landlords.64 Military defeats and the Cabinet changes forced the C.C. IPC to move its headquarters from Rasht to Baku. On 17 September, the presidium of the Propaganda and Action Council of the Peoples of the East met in Baku. Attended by Nariman Narimanov, Mikhail Pavlovich, Elena Stasova, and Shalva Eliava, the meeting discussed in detail the causes of the Gilan defeat and concluded that it had been a mistake to declare a socialist republic that relied on the Adalyat Party, which had neither authority nor popularity among the local people and no real power. The meeting agreed that the communist changes had been implemented with undue haste, which had caused looting and popular discontent with Soviet policy. The situation was further worsened by the fact that news about the Bolshe- viks’ harsh policy in Soviet Azerbaijan and gross violations, which caused peasant riots and upris- ings, spread with great speed in northern Iran and stirred up negative sentiments among the local people. A strictly confidential summary sent to Moscow said in particular: “In Azerbaijan the local leaders admit that Soviet power survives solely on Russian bayonets.”65 The defeat in Iran plunged

61 Lenin’s theses on the principles of signing a treaty with Britain, 1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 2, inv. 2, f. 1292, sheets 1-2. 62 See: Telegram from Sh. Eliava to Lenin, Chicherin and Trotsky. 14.09.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 670, inv. 1, f. 51, sheet 121. 63 See: Telegram from Sh. Eliava to G. Chicherin, 15.09.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 670, inv. 1, f. 51, sheet 122. 64 See: Information by G.S. Fridland, September 1920, Russian State Military Archives (further RGVA), rec. gr. 110, inv. 1, f. 84, sheet 58. 65 Conclusions of the Presidium of the Propaganda and Action Council of the Peoples of the East, 17.09.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 64, inv. 1, f. 20, sheet 58. 134 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Grigory Orjonikidze, an enthusiastic supporter of a march on Tehran, into despondency. On 19 Sep- tember, he wrote to Lenin in despair that nothing serious could happen in Iran, a socialist revolution least of all. He seemed to be convinced that by distributing land among peasants the revolutionary movement might be revived; however, he added, “we should strengthen our troops and deliver a crushing blow.” A peace with Iran, temporary pullout with the aim of liberating these lands with much better forces, looked to him to be the best option.66 On 20 September, the C.C. I.C.P., fully aware of the increasingly obvious desire to blame the Iranian Communist Party for the defeat of the onslaught on Tehran, sent a long letter to the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), copies of which were addressed to Chicherin and Zinoviev. The letter read: “We are accused of failing to inform Moscow and pursuing a course that was not discussed with the Center. These accusations are groundless. Members of the Caucasian, later Iranian, Bureau have prohibited us from addressing Moscow directly… The Iranian Bureau used its members Mdivani and Mikoyan to order the C.C. I.C.P. to operate under the direct leadership of the Iranian Bureau and keep in touch with it. It warned that the slightest attempt at independence would cost us support of the Azeri Com- munist Party and the R.C.P. In full conformity with this, we were guided by the instructions of the Iranian Bureau.” The authors associated the downfall of the Kuchak Khan government with instructions issued by Budu Mdivani and Anastas Mikoyan.67 This letter and information from other sources made it possible to remove A. Mikoyan, V. Lominadze, B. Mdivani, and other members of the leftist group from the Iranian developments. The first stage of the Gilan revolution ended with the serious defeat of Soviet Russia in Iran. The leaders of Soviet Azerbaijan could not remain indifferent to the defeats in Gilan and especially to the closing down of the Iranian Bureau. On 8 September, Nariman Narimanov sent a confidential letter to Bekhbud Shakhtakhtinsky, his representative in Moscow, in which he complained about the Red Army’s arbitrariness in Azerbaijan and condemned the provocative activities of the Mikoyan, Gogoberidze, and Lominadze group in Iran. He used the following words to describe their determined attempts to undermine the influence of the Azerbaijan Revolutionary Committee among the local people: “The problem is that irresponsible people are fanning counterrevolution under the guise of revolution. The same happened to the Persian revolution. Having come from Persia, the same Mikoyan disoriented us. Activities against Kuchak Khan were launched on the strength of his report; I, however, objected to this. What do we have now? Today, we only think of how to keep Anzali. Here is what I have to say: you ignored my warnings and now you are performing a funeral march over the Persian revolution.” Narimanov instructed Shakhtakhtinsky to ask Lenin straight away: “Does the Center trust us or not? If it trusts us, it should listen to what we have to say, otherwise it should bury its plans for a coup in the East in our favor. Honestly speaking, I do not think of the East, which is dead to us, at least for the time being, because of the Persian ‘intrigues.’ I concentrate on keeping Azerba- ijan so as not to put Soviet Russia to the test once more.” He deemed it necessary to warn: “If they (Lenin and Chicherin.—J.H.) want to keep Baku, they should listen to us. This is directly related to the Persian issue. By the way, upon return from Persia Eliava said that many people should be arrested. This means that I was right. Mdivani ignored my warnings and now is trying to rescue what remains of the troops. Seeing all of this, I cannot remain silent. I refuse to remain silent and serve as a screen.”68 On 20 September, acting under the strict orders of his superior, Shakhtakhtinsky sent Lenin a long letter, which said in part: “The success of the Persian movement could move the zone of our influence closer to India, Mesopotamia, and Arabia and convince the Muslim world that Soviet Rus-

66 See: Telegram from G. Orjonikidze to Lenin, 19.09.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 5c, f. 4, sheet 5. 67 See: Letter of the C.C. I.C.P. to the C.C. R.C.P. Copies to Chicherin and Zinoviev, 20.09.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 2, f. 144, sheet 4. 68 Letter from N. Narimanov to B. Shakhtakhtinsky, 08.09.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2c, f. 3, sheet 61. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 135 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION sia indeed wants to liberate the East and make it independent. Unfortunately, our clumsy policy in Persia stirred up negative sentiments among the Persian masses, which are now hostile toward us.” In view of the gravity of the situation, he suggested that the work in Azerbaijan, Iran, and Turkey be entrusted to people familiar with the local conditions and the psychology of the popular masses: “Comrade Narimanov is best suited to the task of political guidance in these countries; he should be given the right to handpick his associates, as well as start and carry out tactical methods in the East under control of the Center. There is no need to say that the triumph of communism in the East is the highest aim in life for Narimanov and other Muslim communists.” If this candidate was declined, Shakhtakhtinsky suggested that the appointment of “highly respected Comrade Stalin” would be quite useful to the Eastern cause.69 Under Narimanov’s strong pressure, the leftist group was excluded from the Iranian developments. Chairman of the Comintern Executive Committee Grigory Zinovyev, who arrived in Baku to attend the Congress of the Peoples of the East, insisted that the Organizing Bureau of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) revoke the decision to remove Mikoyan, Lominadze, and other members of the leftist group from Baku because, he argued, it would look like a repressive measure and encouragement of Narimanov and his circle.70 Later, Narimanov admitted that even though he had been a confirmed opponent of Mikoyan, the latter had been removed from the Iranian context without his interference. It seems that he did not know why Mikoyan had been recalled from Baku and “whether it was connected with the communist revolution in Iran or whether there was some other reason.”71 On 25-26 October, a meeting of the C.C. I.C.P. held in Baku discussed in detail the events in Gilan. The Propaganda and Action Council of the Peoples of the East was represented by Nariman Narimanov, Mikhail Pavlovich, and Anatoly Skachko; the Communist Party of Turkey by Mustafa Suphi, etc. The meeting listened to what A. Sultan-zade and Amu Ogly had to say about the communist tactics in Iran. Sultan-zade complained that there were internal and external factors that had contributed to the defeat, along with incessant interference in the Gilan events by the C.C. Az.C.P. (B.) and the commanders of the Russian Red Army in Iran. Amu Ogly, on the other hand, voiced his conviction that the leaders of the C.C. I.C.P., which had severed contacts with Kuchak Khan, and personally A. Sultan-zade, as one of them, were responsible for the failure. Sultan-zade continued to accuse the leaders of Azerbaijan; this forced Narimanov to demand that Sultan-zade should familiarize the meeting with what had been said six months before, on the eve of his (Narimanov’s) first visit to Iran. In an effort to avoid a direct answer, Sultan-zade started talking about a letter he had received from Kuchak Khan at approximately the same time in which he had called the Bolsheviks irresponsible adventurers and refused to cooperate with any of the parties. At that time, Sultan-zade had pinned his hopes on an agrarian revolution because, he argued, the landlords would never side with the revolution. He clarified his point: “I have always been of this opinion and support it today. In Iran we should fight not only the Brits and the Shah, but also the landlords.” Narimanov had no choice but to reveal what had been said between them six months ago: “At that time, Sultan-zade asked for my advice and I explained to him how we should proceed in Persia. He disagreed and followed his own course. To- day, six months later he has agreed that my course was the right one, but for six months he was following a different course.”72 The meeting accepted the Council’s decision to disband the C.C. I.C.P. as correct and valid.

69 Letter from B. Shakhtakhtinsky to Lenin, 20.09.1920. APD UDP AR, rec. gr. 1, inv. 1, f. 2a, sheets 27-30. 70 See: Letter from G. Zinoviev to the Organizing Bureau of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), September 1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 17, inv. 112, f. 72, sheet 9. 71 RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2c, f. 3, sheet 17. 72 From a verbatim report of a meeting of the C.C. Iranian Communist Party and responsible officials in Persia, 25-26.10.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 544, inv. 3, f. 2, sheet 67. 136 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION The Soviet-Iranian Friendship Treaty Signed in February 1921

In the fall of 1920, while the Iranian communists and the Baku Bolsheviks remained locked in sharp polemics on the tactics of onslaught on Tehran, the Bolshevik government of Russia (still shocked by the severe defeat in Gilan) deemed it wise to enter into talks with the Iranian government and establish diplomatic relations with it. On 20 September, a plenary session of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) disagreed with the aggressive tactics Lev Karakhan had outlined on 9 September, 1920 in favor of negotiations with Tehran. The corresponding document clarified the point: “Instruct the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs to follow the second of the suggested courses, that is, talks with the Shah; Anzali should remain in our hands against the British… Dispatch Comrade Stalin to the Cau- casus and instruct him to sort out our policy in the Caucasus and the East.”73 By that time, the Iranian side had already been working toward restoring diplomatic relations with Soviet Russia. In October 1920, Moshaver ol-Mamalek (Aligoli Khan) had started for Moscow in the capacity of ambassador extraordinary; during a stopover in Baku he met Narimanov, People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs M. Huseinov, and Head of the Caucasian Bureau of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) Orjonikidze. The latter informed Moscow that the ambassador had spoken about a pullout of Soviet troops from Persia, liquidation of the Rasht Front, and peace talks between Tehran and Mos- cow. When talking to the ambassador, Narimanov did not conceal the fact that the troops so far stationed in Gilan and the additional troops dispatched there three days before belonged to Azerbaijan and that they remained there to protect the interests of Azerbaijan against the British. This statement allowed Orjonikidze to reject the term “armistice” the Iranians planned to use in the coming Soviet- Iranian talks as irrelevant since there were no Soviet Russian troops and, therefore, no armed clashes. At the same time, Russia was still willing to mediate between the governments of Iran and Azerbaijan. Orjonikidze obviously did not know that on 7 September, Ambassador of Iran in London Ghaffar Khan had sent a note to Georgy Chicherin in which he pointed out that the troops stationed in Iran belonged to Soviet Russia. It was with “regret” that the ambassador informed the Russians that the Persian troops had captured Gilan and taken prisoners, including a certain Mikhail Shutov, who, when interrogated, said that there were 800 Russians in his regiment and that all the commanders were Russians. The Iranian ambassador was aggrieved by the fact that these objectionable events were taking place at a time when the ambassador extraordinary was preparing for talks in Moscow. This note drove the commissar into a desperate situation; irritated, he wrote to the People’s Commis- sar for Naval Affairs: “We insist that we have no troops in Persia and that we are not sending troops there. Meanwhile, prisoners are saying … that our troops are in Persia. This is scandalous.”74 Then Chicherin turned to Narimanov: “How could this scandal have happened? The Gilan troops should have been registered as volunteer or as Persian troops.”75 Nariman Narimanov, who had fortified his position after the Congress of the Peoples of the East, asked his closest associate Haidar Khan Amu Ogly and other Iranian communists to re-establish ties with Kuchak Khan and helped them with this task. Through his personal representative in Gilan, Narimanov contacted Kuchak Khan. In his letters, Kuchak Khan wrote about Narimanov as “a leader of the revolutionary movement in the East, founder of the world’s first Muslim political party, and a writer who reveals in his historical works the subtleties of the spiritual world and everyday life of the East.” Narimanov’s letter, which spoke of his closeness to the Iranian revolution,

73 Decision of the plenary session of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 20.09.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 17, inv. 2, f. 34, sheet 3. 74 M.A. Persits, op. cit., pp. 141-142. 75 Ibid., pp. 142-143. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 137 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION produced a strong impression on Kuchak Khan who, in turn, addressed Haidar Khan as “dear friend;” he expressed his conviction that his arrival in Iran would promote the cause of the Gilan revolution.76 In November 1920, while Stalin was staying in Baku, the situation in the C.C. I.C.P. and the Eastern policy of the Soviets caused heated debates. Stalin was dead set against closer contacts between the communists and Kuchak Khan, but defended Haidar Khan, one of the most convicted supporters of rapprochement with Kuchak Khan. He, and not Sultan-zade, was invited to a meeting with Stalin at a joint sitting of the Caucasian Bureau of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), Revolutionary Committee of Azerbaijan, and other Soviet organizations.77 In a telegram to Lenin dated 16 November, Stalin informed him that the C.C. I.C.P. had received new members: Sultan-zade and his cronies had been replaced with Haidar Khan and Iranian proletarians from Baku; this was when it was decided to move the center of the Iranian revolution to Tabriz, which looked to be a much more revolutionary province. Stalin believed that in Iran only a bourgeois revolution that would rely on the middle class was possible; the Iranian communists received corresponding directives.78 On 27 November, the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) discussed Stalin’s long and detailed report on the state of affairs in the Caucasus and instructed him and Chicherin to formulate a much clearer policy with the states bordering on the Caucasian countries: “Assume as reconciliatory policy as possible in our relations with Georgia, Armenia, Turkey, and Persia, that is, a policy designed to avoid war. No march on Georgia, Armenia, or Persia should be planned; protection of Azerbaijan and firm control of the entire Caspian should be formulated as our main goal.”79 Several days earlier, on 15 November, the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) had appointed Feodor Rotstein as representative of Soviet Russia in Iran. Georgy Chicherin had recommended him as a man well-versed in British foreign policy (London’s relations with Persia in particular) and contemporary history of Iran. The People’s Commissar concluded: “He is undoubtedly the best.”80 On 28 November, the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs informed the Iranian government that Feodor Rotstein had been appointed Envoy Plenipotentiary of the R.S.F.S.R. in Te- hran. These decisions and the official talks did not keep the Bolsheviks away from Gilan: their military-political interference went on for some time. Late in November 1920, Vassily Kargareteli, who commanded the troops in Iran, was replaced with Nikolay Gikalo on Orjonikidze’s personal orders.81 On 29 November, Gikalo assumed command of the Iranian revolutionary army of 3 thousand infantrymen and 300 cavalrymen. The newly appointed commander hastened to inform Or- jonikidze of the true state of affairs: the army was despondent, therefore “with such soldiers he would not be able to fulfill the tasks imposed on him.” He also said that the local people greeted the Red Army and that, therefore, only Russian units should be sent to Iran.82 Despite his suggestions, the general feeling in the Iranian revolutionary army remained the same. By early 1921, 800 of the total 3,500 soldiers and officers were local people, the rest were Russian and Azeri Red Army men.83

76 See: S. Rustamova-Tokhidi, op. cit., pp. 268-269. 77 See: Stalin’s Report about His Trip to the Caucasus, November 1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 3, f. 258, sheet 3. 78 See: Stalin’s telegram to Lenin, 16.11.1920, State Archives of the Russian Federation (further GA RF), rec. gr. 130, inv. 4, f. 464, sheet 119. 79 Extract from Protocol No. 66 of a meeting of the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 27.11.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 17, inv. 3, f. 125, sheet 1. 80 G. Chicherin to N. Krestinsky, 14.11.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 2, f. 12, sheet 57. 81 See: Urgent telegram from G. Orjonikidze to V. Trifonov, 22.11. 1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2, f. 2, sheet 252. 82 See: Report of N. Gikalo to G. Orjonikidze, 10.12.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2, f. 27, sheet 12. 83 See: Telegram from the Deputy Envoy Plenipotentiary of the Revolutionary Committee of Azerbaijan in Iran to the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs of the Azerbaijanian S.S.R., 14.02.1921, State Archives of the Azerbaijan Republic (further on GA AR), rec. gr. 28, inv. 1, f. 108, sheet 4. 138 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Narimanov could do little to restore the severed ties with Kuchak Khan; in the fall of 1920 the leaders of the R.S.F.S.R. made the talks with Iran official: they wanted diplomatic relations with this country. Early in December 1920, first the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), then the C.C. plenary session, approved the main principles of a draft trade treaty with Britain and a treaty with Iran as presented by the People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs.84 On 7 December, a plenary session of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) adopted the text of the treaty with Iran; the same day, Lev Karakhan informed Shalva Eliava in Baku about the conditions of the Soviet pullout from Anzali and Rasht. The Deputy People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs wrote that the Soviet pullout should be predated by a British decision to leave Iran and that the British decision would be followed by a Soviet official statement that “these points (Anzali and Rasht.—Ed.) were occupied by the Red Troops of the Azerbaijan Republic only with the aim of protecting its borders against the British threat which had set up bases in Anzali and Rasht to attack Azerbaijan.” He also warned that the treaty would be signed only when the government of Ihsanullah Khan had been liquidated.85 On 6 January, 1921, Lev Karakhan informed the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) that the talks with the Iranian government had been completed and that all the instructions issued by the C.C. (except that demand- ing legalization of all political parties operating in Iran) had been taken into account. The Iranians were baffled by the insistence with which a foreign state (the R.S.F.S.R. in this case) tried to impose on Tehran a clause under which communist and leftist parties would be allowed to freely operate in Iran: this was correctly assessed as interference in Iran’s domestic affairs. In Iran, only those political parties were permitted that remained within the country’s Constitution and did not plan a violent regime change. Karakhan reported in the name of his Commissariat that if the C.C. continued insisting on this clause the process would drag on indefinitely and would hardly be approved by the Iranian Majlis. He wrote that the People’s Commissariat suggested that the Iranian formula should be accepted.86 The Iranian side flatly refused to sign the secret protocols to the treaty suggested by Moscow, which stipulated that the R.S.F.S.R. would have the right to bring its troops into Iran under special circumstances (if enemy forces operated in the territory of one of the sides or if a third country tried to use the Iranian territory for military purposes). The Iranian side wanted to see the clauses in the main text.87 The sides found it hard to see eye-to-eye on the problem of the property and goods of Iranian merchants (totaling 30 million gold rubles) confiscated by the Baku authorities on instructions from Moscow. While the Russian side was deliberately creating obstacles, Narimanov issued a directive outside the C.C. Az.C.P. (B.) and the Council of People’s Commissars, which supplied the Iranian side with an official document. It was Shakhtakhtinsky’s task (he was one of the participants in the Soviet-Iranian conference) to explain that the delays were caused by bureaucratic red tape. The Iranians would have found it hard to believe that the document signed by the prime minister was not worth the paper it was typed on and that no one treated his signature seriously. It should be said that the first plenary session of the Soviet-Iranian conference spent hours trying to sort out an issue of primary importance for the Iranians and, after failing to find a solution, ad- journed for three months.88 Chicherin and Narimanov quarreled over the future of the confiscated Iranian property and goods: the Chairman of the Government of the Azerbaijan S.S.R. was straightforward: he accused the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs of Soviet Russia of hypocrisy.89 On 22 January, 1921,

84 See: Extract from Protocol No. 66 of a meeting of the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 04.12.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 17, inv. 3, f. 126, sheet 1. 85 See: Telegram from L. Karakhan to Sh. Eliava, 07.12.1920, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2, f. 34, sheet 41. 86 See: Letter from L. Karakhan to the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 06.01.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 3, f. 208, sheets 5-6. 87 See: Persidsky front mirovoy revolutsii, pp. 371-372. 88 See: Letter from B. Shakhtakhtinsky to Stalin, August 1923, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2c, f. 3, sheet 54. 89 See: N. Narimanov, Izbrannye proizvedenia, Vol. 2, Baku, 1989, p. 449. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 139 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION when an agreement on this issue had finally been reached Lev Karakhan sent Moshaver ol-Mamalek (Aligoli Khan) a note in which he suggested that a special British-Azeri commission be set up under an Iranian chairman on the withdrawal of British and Azeri troops from Iran.90 The Iranian Revolutionary Government was very concerned about the press reports on the So- viet-Iranian talks in Moscow and the upcoming withdrawal of the Red Army from Iran. On 5 Febru- ary, Ihsanullah Khan, Riza Sarhoº, member of the Revolutionary Committee in his Cabinet, and Nikolay Gikalo, commander of the Iranian Red Army, sent an urgent telegram to Lenin in which they asked him not to sign the agreement with the Shah’s government. They argued, with good reason, that neither the Shah, nor his father or grandfather, had been elected and that “for centuries they were turning Iran into a graveyard and suppressed people’s yearning for freedom.” They went on to say that all treaties signed by the Shah and his government were anti-popular and, therefore, rejected by the people.91 On 14 February, the envoy plenipotentiary of the Revolutionary Committee of Azerbaijan in Iran reported to the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs that for ten days the Iranian Revolu- tionary Government had been busy discussing possible repercussions of the Soviet withdrawal and possible actions in the crisis period.92 On 26 February, 1921, despite the problems and under strong pressure from the People’s Com- missariat for Foreign Affairs, the treaty between the R.S.F.S.R. and Iran was signed; the events in Tehran made this signing very much needed. On 21 February, a coup staged in Tehran and supported by Cossacks made Seyyed Zia’eddin Tabatabaee prime minister, while the post of minister of war went to Reza Khan, commander of the Cossack units. As its first step, the new Cabinet agreed to sign the Soviet-Iranian treaty. Several days before that, on 21 February, Chicherin had written to Orjoni- kidze that the treaty with Iran should be signed before Leonid Krasin signed a treaty in London. He deemed it necessary to specify that Iran would not sign the treaty while the Soviet government remained in Anzali.93 These doubts were dissipated on 26 February when the Iranian representative in Moscow signed the treaty. Under Art 1 of the treaty “…desiring that the Persian people should be happy and independent … the Russian Republic declares the whole body of treaties and conventions concluded with Persia by the Tsarist Government … null and void. The R.S.F.S.R. formally affirms once again that it def- initely renounces the tyrannical policy carried out by the Colonizing Governments of Russia.” In Art 2, “Federal Russia … declares its refusal to participate in any action that might destroy or weaken Persian sovereignty. It regards as null and void the whole body of treaties and conventions concluded by the former Russian Government with third parties in respect of Persia or to the detriment of that country.” Under Art 3, “The two Contracting Powers agree to accept and respect the Russo-Persian frontiers, as drawn by the Frontier Commission in 1881.” Art 4 said: “Each of the two Contracting Parties formally expresses its desire to abstain from any intervention in the internal affairs of the other.” In Art 5, “The two High Contracting Parties undertake (1) to prohibit the formation or presence within their respective territories of any organizations or groups of persons … whose object is to engage in acts of hostility against Persia or Russia… (3) to prevent … the presence within their territories … of armies or forces of a third Party in cases in which the presence of such forces would be regarded as a menace to the frontiers, interests or safety of the other Contracting Party.” Art 6 said: “…if a Foreign Power should threaten the frontiers of Federal Russia or those of its Allies, and if the Persian Government should not be able to put a stop to such menace … Russia shall have the right to

90 See: Dokumenty vneshney politiki SSSR, Vol. III, Moscow, 1959, p. 492. 91 Urgent telegram from Ihsanullah Khan, Riza Sarhoº and N.F. Gikalo to Lenin, 05.02.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 1, f. 2198, sheet 3. 92 See: Telegram from the Deputy Envoy Plenipotentiary of the Revolutionary Committee of Azerbaijan in Iran to the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs of the Azerbaijanian SSR, 14.02.1921. GA AR, rec. gr. 28, inv. 1, f. 108, sheet 4. 93 See: Telegram from G. Chicherin to G. Orjonikidze, 21.02.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2, f. 38, sheet 2. 140 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION advance her troops into the Persian interior for the purpose of carrying out any military operation necessary for its defense. Russia undertakes, however, to withdraw her troops from Persian territory as soon as the danger has been removed.” This article forced Britain to demonstrate caution in its relations with Iran. Art 11 said that “the two High Contracting Parties shall enjoy equal rights of free navigation on that [the Caspian] Sea, under their own flags.” Other articles dealt with mail, telegraph, transport, and economic issues.94 Seven articles out of 26 were related, directly or indirectly, to Azer- baijan. Despite several favorable points for Iran, the treaty, on the whole, was not as politically equal as it was declared: while under Art 1, “the Russian Republic declares the whole body of treaties and conventions concluded with Persia by the Czarist Government … null and void,” Art 6 laid the foun- dations for another type of inequality.95 The All-Russia Central Executive Committee ratified the perpetual Soviet-Iranian Treaty on 29 March, 1921; the Iranian side bided for time until all the debatable issues had been settled. Chicherin was convinced that irrespective of who came to power in Iran, the treaty would be ratified anyway. He believed that the treaty would not merely deliver a moral blow to Britain, but would also force it take Soviet Russia into account. In a note to the Iranian ambassador, he pointed out that as soon as the British troops left Iran, the Azeri Red Army would, in turn, be pulled out of Northern Iran. The Iranian ambassador, however, was not enthused by Chicherin’s invitation to set up a British-Azeri commission: he doubted that Britain would welcome Azerbaijan as a partner— it preferred to work with Russia.96

“The Foolishness of the Persian Revolutionaries Leaves Even the Gods Baffled”

The newly signed treaty started a flow of instructions in which the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs demanded that Baku liquidate the Gilan Republic; on 17 March, 1921 in an effort to stop the deluge of telegrams, Narimanov and Huseinov informed Orjonikidze in Tiflis: “We are not opposed to liquidation. We want to raise the issue as part of the Azeri-Persian talks, which should begin immediately. Yesterday, Shakhtakhtinsky, at our request, promised to reply today after consul- tations with Chicherin. If you agree to start talks please let us know.”97 Despite the treaty signed in Moscow, Tehran refused to receive Envoy Extraordinary of Soviet Russia Feodor Rotstein until the Gilan Republic had been liquidated. On 21 March, the Iranian consul in Baku informed the Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary of Iran in Moscow that despite the order that had arrived from Moscow the Gilan Republic had not been liquidated and that nothing had been done to start the process.98 In a confidential telegram to Chicherin, Rotstein wrote that Te- hran explained its refusal to let him into the country by the fact that the Gilan Republic had not been disbanded and the Soviet troops remained in Iran.99 Late in April, having crisscrossed Northern Iran

94 Treaty of Friendship between Persia and the Russian Socialist Federal Soviet Republic, signed at Moscow, Feb- ruary 26, 1921, available at [http://www.worldlii.org/int/other/LNTSer/1922/69.html]. 95 See: J. Hasanli, SSSR-Iran: Azerbaidzhansky krizis i nachalo kholodnoy voyny (1941-1946), Moscow, 2006, p. 9. 96 See: Letter from G. Chicherin to V. Kopp, 20.03.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. C/Turtsia, f. 29, sheet 42. 97 Telegram from N. Narimanov and M.D. Huseinov to Orjonikidze, 17.03.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2, f. 38, sheet 7. 98 See: Telegram from the Iranian consul in Baku to Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary in Moscow, 21.03.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2, f. 38, sheet 8. 99 See: Telegram from F. Rotstein to G. Chicherin, 24.03.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 1, f. 2198, sheet 9. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 141 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION in an unofficial capacity, Rotstein reached Tehran. On 30 March, 2 and 7 April, in three telegrams, Chicherin ordered Orjonikidze to liquidate the Gilan Republic: “We insist in the most resolute terms that you demonstrate iron will and cut short all attempts to undermine our policy in Persia, the linchpin of our Eastern policy. A new adventure should be avoided at all costs. Don’t hesitate to use extreme measures to stop the local people from becoming engaged in another adventure in Persia. The Soviet government of Ihsanullah Khan should be immediately disbanded, which does not mean that a shah governor should assume power—Azeri occupational power will remain in Anzali until British and Azeris simultaneously pull out of Persia. The Soviet government in Gilan should be disbanded immediately without waiting for the pullout.”100 The leaders of Soviet Azerbaijan resisted as well as they could; on 11 April, I. Levin, a member of the Rotstein mission left behind in Baku until the situation with the newly appointed Russian envoy was clarified, reported to Chicherin: “After listening to Orjonikidze’s report about Moscow’s explicit order to liquidate the Gilan Republic, Ali Haidar Garaev came forward with the following motivated statement to the effect that Moscow was free to announce that the Gilan Republic had been liquidated, however, Azerbaijan as an independent republic would not liquidate the Gilan Republic. Because of what is going on in Tehran, it helps the Gilan Republic with manpower and armaments… On the other hand, the members of the Gilan Government unwilling to be liquidated will put a spoke in our wheel.”101 Moscow’s pressure finally overcame the unwillingness of the Azeri leaders and resistance of Ihsanullah Khan; on 6 May, Sergo Orjonikidze disbanded the Iranian Red Army and the Military Revolutionary Council. A separate rifle brigade based on the military units of the Azerbaijanian SSR, the 11th Army and the liquidated Iranian army was set up in the Rasht-Anzali under Nikolay Gikalo. All departments of the liquidated Iranian army were sent to Baku under the command of the People’s Commissariat for Naval Affairs of Azerbaijan. Despite the changes in the military structures and the agreement on cooperation between the C.C. I.C.P. headed by Haidar Khan and Kuchak Khan signed on 6 May, 1921, in the summer of 1921 another attempt to take Tehran by storm failed. Under the agreement, the sides planned to develop friendly relations with the governments of Soviet Russia, Azerbaijan, and Georgia and expected their assistance.102 After the agreement of 6 May, the sides scored several minor victories, although they were unable to avoid a crushing defeat. On 13 July, Izvestia published Narimanov’s telegram about Ihsanul- lah Khan’s victory near Mazandaran; after that, in his letter to Chicherin, the Iranian ambassador raised the question of the continued presence of Russian volunteers in Gilan and pointed out that “Azerbaijan treats the Russo-Persian treaty as dead letter.”103 It was on Chicherin’s insistence that the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) made it incumbent on the government of Azerbaijan to publish an official denial. On 26 July, a statement issued by People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs Huseinov appeared in Kommunist, the newspaper published by the Az.C.P. (B.); it said that the government of Azerbaijan maintained no contacts with Ihsanullah Khan and extended no assistance to him. Three days later, on 29 July, in a ciphered telegram, Huseinov informed Chicherin about his official statement.104 In his telegram to Chicherin, Soviet Ambassador Feodor Rotstein asked the People’s Com- missar to prevent Azerbaijan from interfering in Iranian affairs: “The foolishness of the Persian revolutionaries leaves even the gods baffled, but we should act resolutely against the Azeris.”105 In his telegram to Chicherin, which sounded like an ultimatum (a copy was addressed to Lenin), the am-

100 Telegram from G. Chicherin to G. Orjonikidze, 05.04.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2, f. 38, sheet 12. 101 Telegram from I. Levin to G. Chicherin, 11.04.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 1, f. 2198, sheet 11. 102 See: An Agreement on Joint Action between the Communists (Haidar Khan) and Jangalists (Kuchak Khan), 07.05.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 544, inv. 3, f. 70, sheet 123. 103 Letter from G. Chicherin to the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 14.07.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 2, inv. 2, f. 740, sheet 1. 104 See: Telegram from M.D. Huseinov to G. Chicherin, 29.07.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2, f. 18, sheet 1. 105 Telegram from F. Rotstein to G. Chicherin, 12.07.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 1, f. 2198, sheet 30. 142 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION bassador demanded: “Either Baku should obey me in everything related to Persia or I should be instructed to take orders from Baku. There is no third way. If instructed to take orders from Baku, I will have no choice but to lower the flag and leave Persia.”106 And several days later: “If you approve of a double policy my mission is senseless.”107 Feodor Rotstein spoke his mind to the Peo- ple’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs of Azerbaijan; his letter to M.D. Huseinov said in part: “Your purely Baku-style Iranian policy, which contradicts state interests, is stuck in my throat and has disarranged my efforts. As long as unofficial contacts between Baku and the khans of all ilks who call themselves revolutionaries continue, no correct relations with Tehran will be possible.” The diplomat deemed it necessary to warn that the Iranian army was strong enough to drive these khans from their positions and that Reza Khan (the war minister, four years later he ascended the throne as Shah of Iran Reza Pahlavi and ruled from 1925 to 1941) “was nearly driven to tears when pleading for my permission to do this.”108 In fact, the delays with the pullout of Soviet troops from Gilan in 1921 were caused by a coup in Tehran. The new Cabinet of Ahmad Qavam os-Saltaneh was Anglophilic, which meant that Rotstein had no choice but to recommend Chicherin and Orjonikidze to postpone the pullout: “To- day, a sort of front in Gilan is needed to terrorize the new Cabinet of the shah, therefore, you should wait a little with troop withdrawal. I have already presented certain claims to the Cabinet; when they are satisfied I shall give you a signal to start withdrawal. I also recommend holding the Iranian Revolutionary Committee and Kuchak back from any actions. You should continue threatening Tehran for the same purpose. If you follow my advice or if there appears another, more acceptable cabinet, you should withdraw your support from the Revolutionary Committee, of which I will inform you in due time.”109 Simultaneously, Rotstein sent note after note to the Iranian Foreign Ministry about the progress of the Soviet pullout from Gilan. After familiarizing himself with the notes Chicherin scolded Rotstein: “Why have you started talking about the pullout from Gilan today if you and Raskolnikov left last year leaving the Azeri army behind?”110 As soon as Raskoln- ikov had been recalled from Iran, Chicherin recommended in his letters that the Soviet army in Iran be forgotten and insisted that only units of the “occupational army of Azerbaijan” remain in Gi- lan.111 The developments in Northern Iran convincingly demonstrated that “independence” of Az- erbaijan was a trump card put on the table every time the Great Powers resumed their unseemly double game. During their meeting, Premier Qavam assured Rotstein that eventually the Cabinet would acquire new members, but nothing of the sort was done. In October 1921, in his report to Chicherin, the Soviet ambassador had to admit that although Qavam had promised to follow his advice, “he cheated me and the Soviet government in my person.”112 In October 1921, on a request from Rot- stein and under pressure of War Minister Reza Khan, Qavam finally replaced some of the members of his Cabinet. In mid-August 1921, after the war of telegrams between Rotstein and Moscow and Baku, Lenin, when on leave, decided to take the Iranian developments under his control. He pacified Rotstein by saying that, according to Chicherin, Baku had withdrawn its support from Ihsanullah Khan. In his letter to Rotstein, Lenin was quite sincere: “I think that I can agree with your cautious policy in Per- sia… Can you write a couple of works about Persia to teach us all about a subject which is highly interesting and absolutely unknown to us?”113

106 Telegram from F. Rotstein to G. Chicherin, 11.07.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 1, f. 2198, sheet 32. 107 Telegram from F. Rotstein to G. Chicherin. 12-15.07.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 1, f. 2198, sheet 35. 108 Persidskiy front mirovoy revolutsii, p. 403. 109 Urgent telegram from F. Rotstein to G. Chicherin, 15.06.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 85, inv. 2, f. 38, sheet 13. 110 Telegram from G. Chicherin to F. Rotstein, 11.08.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 1, f. 2113, sheet 17. 111 Urgent telegram from G. Chicherin to G. Orjonikidze, 18.04.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 1, f. 2097, sheet 23. 112 F. Rotstein’s report to G. Chicherin, 08-10.10.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 1, f. 2153, sheet 32-35. 113 Letter from Lenin to Rotstein, 13.08.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 2, inv. 1, f. 24615, sheet 2. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 143 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

On 15 August, the plenary session of the Caucasian Bureau of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) passed the following decisions on Orjonikidze’s report On the Situation in Persia: “(a) withdraw support from Kuchak Khan and Ihsanullah Khan; (b) suggest that they should leave Iran together with their troops if they agreed; and (c) step up efforts to organize a Communist Party in Persia.”114 This means that the Gilan adventure the Bolsheviks had launched in the spring of 1920 was nearing its end. The treaty of 26 February, 1921 made meaningless the efforts of Soviet Russia to promote the revolutionary movement in Gilan with the help of volunteers. On 24 September, in an urgent ciphered telegram, Rotstein informed Chicherin that he had learned from “reliable sources” about the plans of “Azerbaijanian Soviet imperialism regarding Persia”115 and the planned march on Tehran; this, however, was never confirmed. As if ignorant of the Gilan epopee, the Soviet ambassador was still convinced that Baku was the source of the evil and was guilty of everything that had gone wrong. Late in 1921, in one of his numerous telegrams to Chicherin, he wrote: “Under the czarist regime we looked at Persia as our lawful prey, which we had failed to turn into a gubernia or several gubernias of the Russian Empire because of the British. I suspect or am even convinced that this imperialist instinct is still alive in our people in Baku and even partly in Tashkent, in whom it has acquired a Soviet and even communist form in full accordance with our new order.”116 In September-October 1921, these intrigues and disagreements ended in a squabble between Kuchak Khan and Haidar Khan Amu Ogly and, on the whole, between their followers, the Jangalians and Communists, which ended in the deaths of both leaders; their followers dispersed. On 3 October, the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), having discussed the Persian question, made Sergey Kirov personally responsible for preventing Azerbaijan from ex- tending support to Kuchak Khan and other forces in Iran.117 On 7 November, Ihsanullah Khan and his supporters arrived in Baku from Anzali; the next day, Orjonikidze and Kirov solemnly reported to Lenin and Stalin: “Everything has ended in Persia,”118 but immediately suggested that the new arriv- als be used to set up an illegal Iranian Committee for Freedom. The Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) resolutely objected to this and prohibited them from moving in this direction.119 On 15 December, 1921, when everything had ended in Persia, the Iranian Majlis ratified the treaty between Iran and the R.S.F.S.R signed in Moscow on 26 February.120 Early in 1922, Deputy People’s Commissar for For- eign Affairs of Azerbaijan A. Andreev reported to Moscow that the Gilan Republic had been liquidated, Ihsanullah Khan had found shelter in Azerbaijan, Kuchak Khan was dead, while Rotstein advised the revolutionaries to leave Rasht and seek safety in Russia. At first, Ahmad Qavam os-Saltaneh intended to display the severed head of Kuchak Khan for everyone to see, but Feodor Rotstein managed to dissuade him.121 In this way the Gilan Revolution and the Bolshevist adventure in Iran came to their sad end.

114 Extract from Protocol No. 16 of the plenary session of the Caucasian Bureau C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 15.08.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 64, inv. 1, f. 1, sheet 138. 115 Ciphered telegram from F. Rotstein to G. Chicherin, 27.10.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 2, inv. 2, f. 1015, sheet 1. 116 Telegram from F. Rotstein to G. Chicherin, 15.12.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 5, inv. 1, f. 2153, sheet 93. 117 Extract from Protocol No. 64 of the sitting of the Politburo C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 03.10.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 17, inv. 3, f. 210, sheet 3. 118 Telegram from G. Orjonikidze and S. Kirov to Lenin and Stalin, 08.11.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 2, inv. 2, f. 999, sheet 1. 119 See: Extract from Protocol No. 77 of the sitting of the Politburo of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), 17.11.1921, RGASPI, rec. gr. 17, inv. 3, f. 231, sheet 1. 120 See: Request for Views as to the Consistency of Certain Articles of the Soviet-Ýranian Treaty of February 26, 1921 with the Charter of the United Nations, National Archives and Records Administration of the USA, RG 59, Box: 3398, NND 7600050, Doc. 761.91/2-648. 121 See: Information of A. Andreev to the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs of the RSFSR, 1922, APD UDP AR, rec. gr. 276, inv. 5, f. 1, sheets 66-67. 144 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

The defeat of the revolution in Gilan dealt a heavy blow to Narimanov’s political prestige and caused him strong and never assuaging pain which prevented him from making it up with Chicherin. Later, in a letter to Ibrahim Abilov, he unburdened his soul: “All the ideas Chicherin used in the East- ern policy are false. Iran has obviously turned its back on us. Chicherin, who has fallen into the British trap, extinguished the flame of the Iranian revolution.”122 In his letter to Stalin “On the History of Our Revolution in the Periphery,” Narimanov shared his bitter thoughts and discussed the failures of the Soviet Eastern policy: the revolutionary process in Iran died “at the hands of Rotstein;” he further wrote: “We killed the liberation movement in Persia with our own hands, just as Lloyd George wanted this, because this is how some of our comrades understood the Eastern policy.”123 In his letter to the C.C. R.C.P. (B.) (the Eastern Question Section) addressed to Stalin, Trotsky, and Radek, Narimanov directly accused Chicherin of the failure of the Iranian revolution. Georgy Chicherin had to justify himself in written form. In his letter to the Secretary of the Control Commission of the R.C.P. (B.) Emelyan Yaroslavsky (Miney Gubelman), he pointed out that he had never departed from the course of the Central Committee with respect to the party’s Eastern policy: “At that time it was Comrade Narimanov’s Eastern policy that wandered far from the course of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), therefore, it became necessary, at a sitting of the Politburo and plenary session of the C.C. R.C.P. (B.), to remind the Caucasian comrades that they should follow the course of the Central Committee. The Caucasian comrades, Comrade Narimanov among them, deliberately fanned the events in Northern Iran and supported adventurist plans. Today, none of the leading comrades doubt that this fanning greatly damaged the communist movement and the international position of the Soviet Republic.”124 Howev- er, it must be acknowledged that this was said post factum, while the defeat of the Iranian revolution was one of the most convincing examples of Moscow’s infamous policy of revolution export. In this way, in 1920-1921, Soviet Azerbaijan was drawn into the Iranian epopee, a dramatic detective story with a sad finale.

Conclusion

After a series of proletarian revolutions in the West, the hopes of the peoples of the East were crushed by the tragic events in Gilan. The atmosphere of Bolshevist revolutionary verve and roman- ticism born by occupation of Azerbaijan did not survive long in Iran. Moscow’s plans to Sovietize Iran using Azerbaijan as a springboard and a screen failed: throughout the anti-British Gilan events the Bolsheviks tried hard, but never succeeded, in concealing their true intentions to avoid an international scandal. Soviet Russia fell short of its main aim of driving Great Britain out of Iran. The extinguished fire of the Iranian revolution buried the idea of making Soviet Azerbaijan a beacon of the East. The disagreements between Narimanov and the Center on the Eastern issue deepened. The Gilan conflict was not the first, or the last, in a long chain of international initiatives the Soviet government abandoned halfway.

122 Letter from N. Narimanov to I. Abilov, without date, APD UDP AR, rec. gr. 609, inv. 1, f. 92, sheet 116. 123 N. Narimanov, K istorii nashey revolutsii v okrainakh (Letter to Stalin), Baku, 1990, p. 85. 124 Letter from G. Chicherin to E. Yaroslavsky, 31.08.1923, RGASPI, rec. gr. 588, Inventory 2, f. 177, sheet 98- 98rev. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 145 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION Oleg KUZNETSOV

Ph.D. (Hist.), Assistant Professor, Vice Principal of Scholarly Studies at the Higher School of Social and Managerial Consulting (Institute) (Moscow, the Russian Federation).

EVOLUTION OF RUSSIA’S GEOPOLITICAL INTERESTS AND PRIORITIES IN TRANSCAUCASIA

Abstract

he author presents his conception of centuries (rather than the last two dec- T the evolution of Russia’s geopolitical in- ades). This means that the author has suc- terests in Transcaucasia (the Central cessfully avoided the political biases sug- and part of the Southern Caucasus) caused gested by the current situation. Many of his by a gradual transformation of the military- colleagues fell into this trap: they naively strategic, political, ideological (including reli- believed that state independence of the gious) ideas of the Russian elites at differ- Central Caucasian countries robbed Rus- ent periods. The author relies on a wide sia of its traditional geopolitical presence range of recent historical and political sci- in the region. The present author is out to entific studies, as well as historiographic sur- demonstrate beyond any doubt that revi- veys and scholarly works of the imperial and sion by Russia of its geopolitical priorities Soviet periods, to clarify his conclusions. The in Transcaucasia will strengthen the posi- very fact of the changes that took place in tion it lost in the 1990s. In the near future, the past and are still going on today and the regional elites and other power cent- their vector confirms that Russia’s top polit- ers will prove unable to stem Russia’s ical leaders have been acting and are act- mounting influence. In fact, Russia’s geo- ing consistently and logically when dealing political domination in Transcaucasia will with the sovereign countries and other Tran- merely shift from the military-state to the scaucasian territories. economic sphere, while Russia’s real clout The well-substantiated and conceptu- among the local elites and its influence on ally novel conclusions can be described as the electoral preferences of the local pop- extremely relevant: they are based on an ulation and local economies will remain as analysis of the processes of the last two prominent as ever.

Introduction

My discussion of the subject outlined above calls for several stipulations of fundamental importance. n First, here the term “Russia” is applied to all the states that existed at different periods in time in the territory of the Russian Federation and other territories which formed part of the 146 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Russian state prior to 1 February, 1918. In other words, the term is used as a political scientific, rather than a state legal concept to make it easier for European and North American readers to perceive the world, or Eurasian, center of power and geopolitical influence now called the Russian Federation (and its predecessors—the Soviet Union and the Russian Empire). Despite the different or even mutually exclusive state ideologies of the three Russian states, their geopolitical interests, priorities, and ambitions have retained their strategic continuity. In this sense, the Russian Federation is an heir, in the true sense of the word, of the Soviet Union and the Russian Empire. And this comes as no surprise, since the logic of continued external stability in a state as large as Russia suggests that it should steer the same foreign policy course as is predecessors. However, if it decides to change it (or its geopolitical priorities for that matter), which may not even be possible today, then only in an evolu- tionary way, keeping in mind the strategic interests of its neighbors. n Second, I will use the term “Transcaucasia” here to describe the territories of the Central and Southern Caucasus (within the methodology suggested by Eldar Ismailov) which belonged to the Russian Empire, that is, the territories of the sovereign states of Azerbaijan, Armenia, and Georgia, as well as Abkhazia and South Ossetia, partly recognized as independent states, the self-proclaimed Republic of Nagorno-Karabakh, and Artvin and Kars, historical regions reunited with the Republic of Turkey as a result of its War of Independ- ence of 1919-1923. This means that the term “Transcaucasia” is used here in the strictly political scientific rather than regional studies context and is synonymous with the terms “Central and Southern Caucasus” preferred by Azeri and Georgian political scientists.1 I will continue using the term “Transcaucasia” in the political scientific context and the terms “Central Caucasus” and “Southern Caucasus” when dealing with issues that relate to regional studies.

Russia’s Claims to Geopolitical Hegemony in “Slavic” Europe

Transcaucasia, which includes the Central and Southern Caucasus, is a graphic example of the potential of the changing vectors of Russia’s geopolitical interests in this part of the world and the stage-by-stage evolution of Russia’s foreign policy. In fact, today Russia is completing a rapid, with respect to the history of world civilization and diplomacy, and very slow, from the viewpoint of the man-in-the-street, rearrangement of its priorities in Transcaucasia. For objective reasons, this demanded and still demands that the Russian political establishment not only discard the centuries-old ideological stereotypes, but also replace them with fundamentally new political and ideological imperatives. They have not been made public and will probably remain unpublished for an indefinite period of time, because neither Russian society nor the international community is prepared to face them. For this reason I will limit myself to the suggestion, underpinned by facts and logic, that there has been a “shift in paradigm” in Russia’s foreign policy priorities in the Central and Southern Caucasus. It was in the last quarter of the 18th century that Russia supplied its claims to the Caucasus, and Transcaucasia as its part, with ideological and military-political arguments. It was at that time that

1 See: E. Ismailov, V. Papava, Tsentralny Kavkaz: istoria, politika, ekonomika, Mysl Publishers, Moscow, 2007. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 147 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION the so-called Greek Project elaborated by Chancellor Count Bezborodko on the instructions of Empress Catherine the Great moved to the fore in the Russian system of foreign policy aims.2 It was presupposed that the large-scale project would be realized in the military-strategic and ideological dimensions. They predetermined the southern vector of Russia’s foreign policy for many decades or even centuries, in which the Southern Caucasus was expected to play an important, but not the main, role. By 1783, Russia had finally moved into the Crimean Peninsula and the entire continental territory of the Crimean Khanate in the Northern Black Sea area. This not only ensured strategic security of its southern borders along the Black Sea coast and the Dniester as its natural limits, but let it move further in full accordance with the empress’ ambitious plans. By that time, Catherine the Great had two grandsons—Alexander and Constantine—on whom she pinned great hopes. She planned to put Alexander on the Russian throne, bypassing the dynastic rights of her son Paul; Constantine, his name being deliberately chosen with the aim of putting the Russian Grand Prince on the Greek throne (at that time, Greece was still part of the Ottoman Empire), was the namesake of Constantine IX Palae- ologus, the last Byzantine emperor whose daughter was married to Grand Prince of Muscovy Ivan III of the Rurik dynasty (later replaced by the Romanov dynasty). A young Greek woman Elena was the wet nurse of Grand Prince Constantine, who taught him fluent Greek. The Greek culture was deliberately popularized at the Russian royal court. In her correspondence with Voltaire, Catherine the Great discussed the possibility of reviving an interest in Greek culture in Europe and restoring the Greek state with its capital in Constantinople (Istanbul) by the force of arms and active involvement of Rus- sia’s land forces and navy.3 The military-strategic logic of the Greek project the Russian empress loved so much can be described as a “Slavic Orthodox” Reconquista on the Balkan Peninsula with the intention of detaching it from the Ottoman Empire and restoring Byzantium, or the Eastern Roman Empire, under Russia’s control. This ambitious military-political expansion to the South (in the political scientific sense of the term) required ideological underpinnings in the eyes not so much of European as of Russian society unwilling to live in a protracted or even escalated armed confrontation with the Ottoman Turks: the conquered Crimea and the lands of the former Crimean Khanate had made Russia’s borders safe enough. Ideological justification took the shape of the “Moscow, the Third Rome” formula borrowed from the 16th century as a political-religious conception of state legal succession between the Byzan- tine and Russian empires (the centers of Christian and later Orthodox civilizations had been moved from Rome to Constantinople and then to Moscow). It was the Russian Orthodox Church that promoted the idea in all social groups; at that time it performed the social and political role that now belongs to the media. This meant that the geopolitical Greek Project contained a military-strategic and several cultural and political dimensions. Restoration of Constantinople as an Orthodox, state, and spiritual center was seen as religious revenge: the “primordial” Orthodox capital should be retrieved from the “infidels” and restored to its previous religious-cultural and civilizational grandeur. Russia’s southward movement into the “wild,” from the European point of view, Black Sea area looked like a civilizational offensive against the “barbarians.” Catherine the Great acted very much in line with the geopolitical designs of first Russian Emperor Peter the Great and competed with his glory in Russia’s political history. While in the eyes of his enlightened contemporaries, Peter the Great was pushing “barbarian” Russia toward the civilized West, Catherine the Great marched in front of “civilized” Russia to the “barbarian” East and South under the banner of cultural progress.4 In fact, in the last quarter of the 18th century, Em-

2 See: V.S. Parsamov, Istoria Rossii: XVIII-nachalo XX v., Academia, Moscow, 2007, p. 156. 3 See: V.S. Mirzekhanov, “Ideologia i diplomatia Rossii v epokhu Ekateriny II: historiografia poslednikh desiatiletiy,” in: Istoricheskie, kulturnye i ekonomicheskie sviazi mezhdu Turtsiey i Rossiey: materialy mezhdunadronogo simposiuma. Stambul, 5 aprelia 2012 g., Compiled by O.Yu. Kuznetsov, Turkish-Russian Cultural Center, Moscow, 2012, p. 34. 4 See: V.N. Vinogradov, Dvuglavy rossiiskiy orel na Balkanakh. 1683-1914, Indrik, Moscow, 2010, pp. 78-79. 148 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION press Catherine the Great initiated another (tenth or eleventh) European crusade against the Muslims of Hither Asia and the Middle East under Orthodox, rather than Catholic, holy banners. In present reality we can hardly totally accept the idea, actively promoted by “classical” historical science in Russia, that the Greek Project of Count Bezborodko was nothing but another ideological ruse Catherine the Great exploited for propaganda purposes outside the empire: the Russian empress intended using the noble idea as a smokescreen behind which she would detach, with the use of force, as much Ottoman territory as possible. Her extremely ambitious designs (grandiose political, social, and cultural transformations of the expanses along the North-South axis) stemmed from deliberations about Byzantium as heir to the Greek culture fed by its roots; it brought true faith and enlightenment to Russia, thus making the Russian Empire its legal state and religious heir. Russia took up cultural and religious values from Byzantium, preserving and developing them throughout the centuries, while the Byzantine Empire disappeared under the blows of the Seljuk and Ottoman Turks. Under Catherine the Great, Russia, which had been preserving and multiplying the spiritual values of the Orthodox statehood it received from Byzantium via dynastic marriage (legal and ideological justification of the state-legal and religious-cultural continuity typical of that period), was prepared to return them by restoring an independent Greek state. The Russian empress and her chancellor believed that Constantinople should be restored as a center of Orthodoxy, of which Russia remained the guardian for many centuries, and classical culture. The northwestern vector of the development of the Russian civilization under Peter the Great was replaced with a southern vector; Russia’s geopolitical interests were shifted in the same direction. In the 18th century, the idea of state religious messianism was typical of the Eastern Slavs (with the Russians as their ethnic core) and of the numerous Turkic peoples who professed Islam and lived in the Ottoman Empire, where the Ottoman Turks were the titular ethnicity. In the 18th century, religious life in both empires was completely secularized, that is, it was administered by the state. In Russia, there was no autocephalous Russian Orthodox Church de jure: since 1716 it functioned as part of the state apparatus (the Sacred Governing Synod) or a spiritual administrative structure (prikaz); it was headed by the emperor, not by the patriarch as it is today. The emperor represented the highest secular (administrative-state) and spiritual (Church and religious) authority, a system called absolutism in historical science. In the Russian Empire, any ideological religious doctrine belonged to the foreign policy context. In the Ottoman Empire, likewise, the sultan was also the caliph (the spiritual leader of all faithful Muslims irrespective of where they lived). In fact, in the last quarter of the 18th century the two empires were practically identical (classical absolute monarchies) with the exception of one, although very important, religious-political aspect. Russia was seeking domination in the Slavic Orthodox, while the Ottoman Empire wanted control in the Arabic-Turkic Islamic oecumene, their ambitions stretching far beyond the spiritual sphere. Since the time of Byzantium Orthodox Christians have been living in Southeastern Europe, in the territories now occupied by Moldavia, Bulgaria, Rumania, Greece, Macedonia, Serbia, etc. Under somewhat different names they belonged to the Ottoman Empire and were guided by the Patriarch of Constantinople rather than the Russian Synod. Since the early 14th century, Muslims have been living on the Middle and Lower Volga and in the Northern Caucasus (which belonged to Russia). There- fore, very much in tune with their own political and legal interpretation of Islam, the Ottoman Turks claimed religious and administrative power in Russia’s Muslim regions. To stem the claims of the Ottoman Sultan and quench his ambitions, Russia waged several wars against the Porte and even stipulated in the Kuchuk-Kainarji Peace Treaty signed on 10 (21) July, 1774 that the Sultan renounce his administrative and political power over the Crimean, Kuban, Astrakhan, Kazan, and Volga Tatars, as well as the Nogays, Circassians, and other Muslim peoples of Russia, while retaining, for some time, his religious leadership. Russia’s Muslim peoples became completely autonomous in the religious sphere under the Russian-Turkish agreement of 28 December, 1783 that made the lands of the former Crimean Khanate and the Taman Peninsula part of the Russian Empire and their population, Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 149 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Russian citizens. This meant that the wars between Russia and the Ottoman Empire in the 18th century were waged not only to gain control over the disputed territories or due to trade and economic preferences, but also to acquire religious and political domination in the Black Sea area, the Balkans, and the Caucasus. In the last decades of the 18th century, the Greek Project of the Russian Empire pushed it and the Ottoman Empire into a military-strategic confrontation and stiff ideological struggle based on the religious messianism of both sides. This accounts for the protracted and uncompromising geopolitical rivalry in the Black Sea-Caucasian region. An impartial student of Russian-Turkish or Turkish-Rus- sian relations can trace the influence of the Greek Project of Empress Catherine the Great until World War I; it greatly affected the relations between the two countries. It comes as no surprise that this confrontation gradually extended from the Northern Black Sea area to the Caucasus, the Balkans, and Transcaucasia (the Central and Southern Caucasus).

The Caucasus in the Orbit of Russia’s Geopolitical Interests

It was by sheer chance that the Central and Southern Caucasus, an area of stiff confrontation between Persia and the Porte which had been going on for a long time with variable success and never outside the region, were caught in the web of Russia’s geopolitical interests: the Russian Empire continued to concentrate on the Greek Project. At the early stages of its geopolitical expansion in the Balkans, Russia had no intentions, no strength, no forces and assets, or no resources to open up a “second front” against the Ottoman Empire in the Caucasus or Transcaucasia. External circumstances beyond its control forced Russia to pay attention to this region: in 1768, ruler of the Georgian princedoms Kartli and Kakheti Heraclius II (he inherited the throne from Vakhtang VI who in 1722 concluded a union treaty with Russian Emperor Peter the Great) asked Russia for military support in his struggle against the Ottoman Turks. In 1768-1772, a Russian unit under Lieutenant General Gottlieb Heinrich Totleben, audacious on the battlefield but a man of dubious morals beyond it, was fighting in Georgia. Totleben’s military maneuvers and several victories (he captured Kutaisi and besieged Poti) brought Russia practically no political dividends: the crafty general not only quarreled with the Georgian king, but also betrayed him twice: the first time, in the battle of Akhaltsikhe in April 1770 when he deserted the battlefield and, the second, when he sided with the claimants to the Georgian throne.5 This expedition supplied the Russian military command with detailed information about the terrain beyond the Kura River to be used for future military operations. This was the only tangible geopolitical result of Lieutenant General Totleben’s Georgian expedition. In fact, it was thanks to Baron Totleben that Russia began paying attention to the Central and Southern Caucasus, even though they still remained outside the empire’s geopolitical scope. Ten years later, when Kartli and Kakheti invited Russia to discuss its military protectorate over their lands, Transcaucasia and its military-political importance attracted the empire’s attention once more. On 24 July (4 August), 1783, the sides signed the Georgievsk Treaty. Without going into details, I will say that the treaty proved to be short-lived. In 1787, under Ottoman pressure, Russia

5 See: V.A. Potto, Kavkazskaia voyna, in 5 vols, Vol. 1 , S drevneyshikh vremen do Yermolova, Tsentrpoligraf, Moscow, 2006, pp. 128-132. 150 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION pulled out its troops (two infantry battalions) from Eastern Georgia (Kartli-Kakheti) even though it still considered these lands to be its vassal possessions. This is confirmed by the order Empress Cath- erine the Great sent to General Field-Marshal Count Gudovich, Commander of the Kuban Corps, on 4 September, 1795: “You should support King Heraclius as a Russian vassal against unfriendly attacks with two full infantry battalions in conformity with the treaty”6 to help him rebuff the onslaught on Tiflis (Tbilisi) of Persian Shah Aga Mohammed-khan Qajar. The Georgian capital was destroyed on 12 September: the order reached General Gudovich on 1 October. Military protectorate over Eastern Georgia of 1783 and Georgia’s accession to the empire in 1801 drew Russia into several wars against two strategic rivals in the Caucasus—the Sublime Porte and Persia; their never-ending armed border confrontation made Russia’s task much easier. Between 1796 and 1829, Russia was involved in an aborted march of the Kuban Corps under Colonel-General Count Zubov to Northern Azerbaijan against the Persian troops, which was cut short by the death of the empress, two wars with Persia (in 1805-1813 and 1826-1828), and two wars with Turkey (1806- 1812 and 1828-1829). While planning these armed conflicts and fighting them, Russia finally identified its geopolitical interests and aims in the Central and Southern Caucasus; by that time Russia had become their closest neighbor. These armed conflicts were mainly ignited by the unregulated border problems among Russia, Persia, and the Ottoman Empire in the Caucasus and their drive for domination in all sorts of feudal state units in Transcaucasia: makhalahs, khanates, etc. In the context of a conflict of interests, the three power centers selected the religious sovereignty of the Caucasian peoples as the first step toward a more or less equal balance of power in the region. This is confirmed by the Yassy Peace Treaty of 29 December, 1791 (9 January, 1792) between Russia and the Ottoman Empire, under which the Riv- er Kuban served the state border between them, while the Christian peoples of the Caucasus (Osse- tians and Eastern Georgians) and their lands became the zone of geopolitical interests of Russia.7 Neither Persian Shah Aga Mohammed-khan Qajar who twice, in 1795 and 1797, invaded Kartli-Ka- kheti (Christian Eastern Georgia), nor the Muslim peoples of Western Georgia, who continued their inroads in Kartli-Kakheti and Imeretia, liked this arrangement. This forced Georgy XII, the last independent king of the Georgians, to seek Russia’s military and state protection. The political and legal aspects of the process are well known and have been studied in detail,8 therefore there is no need to discuss them here. On 12 April, 1802, the imperial Manifesto on Georgia joining Russia was officially read in the Sioni Cathedral in Tiflis. This meant that Russia had to identify its geopolitical interests and priorities in the region. Strategic security of the newly acquired lands was the linchpin of Russia’s geopolitical interests in Transcaucasia. Indeed, it had to reach natural borders along which it could delimitate its possessions with the neighbors and organize layered defense. Two rivers, the Arax in the south and the Chorokhi in the west, looked best suited for this purpose. In the first third of the 19th century, Russia waged several offensive wars described above to finally reach the rivers. These and later armed clashes with the Ottoman Empire, accompanied by the sides’ territorial claims, are precisely the background against which the place and role of the Central Caucasus in the context of Russia’s geopolitical interests and its importance should be discussed. It should be said that the Central Caucasus acquired the status of a sub-region in its own right and became a target of geopolitical attention solely because Russia had moved into it. It was formed, acquired a legal basis, and became a political scientific spatial entity because the Russian Empire was

6 V.A. Potto, op. cit. 7 See: “A Detailed Description of the Road the Russian Imperial Embassy Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary followed after the Yassy Peace, from Rushchuk via Shumla to Constantinople, in 1793, Complete with Military Descriptions of the Terrain and Methods for Delivering Foodstuffs for an army of 30 to 40 thousand,” Notes by N.A. Osokin, Russkaia starina, Vol. 21, No. 1, 1878, pp. 100-124. 8 See: Z.D. Avalov, Prisoedinenie Gruzii k Rossii, Montivid Print Shop, St. Petersburg, 1906. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 151 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION moving into new lands by concluding international treaties with Persia and the Porte: the Treaty of Gulistan of 12 (24) October, 1813 and the Turkmanchay Treaty of 10 (22 February), 1828 with Per- sia; the Treaty of Bucharest of 16 (28) May, 1812 along with the Akkerman Convention of 25 Sep- tember (7 October), 1826, the Adrianople Treaty of 2 (14) September, 1829, and the Berlin Treaty of 1 (13) July, 1878 with the Ottoman Empire. Under these international legal instruments Russia joined Daghestan, Kartli, Kakheti, Megrelia, Imeretia, Guria, and Abkhazia; the Baku, Karabakh, Ganja, Shirvan, Sheki, Derbent, Quba, Talysh, Nakhchivan, and Erivan khanates; the entire stretch of the Black Sea littoral from the mouth of the Kuban to St. Nicholas Port with the fortresses of Anapa, Sujuk-kale, and Poti; and the Ottoman provinces Akhaltsikhe, Akhalkalaki, Batum, Kars, Ardahan, and Artvin. From the historical legal point of view these lands should become a target of comprehensive studies as parts of the Central Caucasus, since de facto it was Russia that determined their historical fate. This means that we can say that the Russian Federation, the Republic of Turkey, the Azerbaijan Republic, the Republic of Armenia, the Republic of Georgia, as well as the partially recognized or unrecognized state units (Abkhazia, South Ossetia, and Nagorno-Karabakh) are all subjects of the Central Caucasus. The political elites of some of the regional countries and, indirectly, certain centers of power outside it which support these elites are actively striving to undermine the influence of Russia and Turkey on the Central Caucasus, and even strike them off the list of subjects to leave Azerbaijan, Armenia, and Georgia as the only Central Caucasian entities. This cannot be accepted not only because this approach pushes aside historical reality and traditions, but also because it rejects the historical and cultural heritage of its peoples. They are beholden to the ambitions of certain groups of the local political elites and international financial-industrial circles that patronize them. Since the second third of the 19th century, the Central Caucasus has been and remains a zone of Russia’s geopolitical interests or even its priorities. In the last two centuries, its policy has been radically transformed, which allows certain trends to form. As distinct from Southeastern Europe, the Central Caucasus has never been an area of Rus- sia’s religious expansion: there was no sense in spreading Christianity as the vehicle of its political domination in the traditionally Muslim areas (after abandoning primitive paganism the local peoples embraced Islam). The areas where Christianity had become widespread since early times and where feudal relations had taken shape by the early 19th century became part of the Russian state and society without much trouble; few people among the local elite felt that their interests were in- fringed upon. The traditionally Muslim state-territorial Transcaucasian units had to follow a much more complicated administrative procedure in order to join the Russian Empire; it was fairly logical for the local feudal lords to preserve, during their lifetime, their personal administrative status (even though they lost their political sovereignty); their heirs and close associates became Russian nobles with corresponding property and social privileges. In fact, the Southern Caucasus preserved its traditional social, property, administrative, and economic relations. This explains why the local people remained indifferent to their new status of Russian subjects. Here is an example: the Russian authorities paid practically no attention to trade in young girls and women from among the local Muslims who were sold to Turkish harems. In the newly acquired territories this trade went on unhampered in Muslim villages; purchase of slaves or serfs was registered with Russian policemen; the corresponding dues went to the state treasury.9 It should be said that in the Christian part of Russia, serfs were likewise sold and bought; this means that the lifestyle of the ordinary people in the Caucasus and European Russia differed but little: Russian colonization of the Caucasus presented no social or economic problems.

9 See: N.M. Emelyanova, M.Kh. Ekzekov, “Torgovye i kulturnye sviazi Rossiskoy, Osmanskoy imperiy i narodov Kav-kaza v pervoiy polovine XIX veka,” in: Istoricheskie, kulturnye i ekonomicheskie sviazi mezhdu Turtsiey i Rossiey, pp. 45-47. 152 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

During the first decades of Russian colonization, the local Muslims offered no political or religious resistance. This is best confirmed by the fact that at the height of the Russo-Turkish war of 1828-1829, four cavalry corps (720 cavalrymen in each) and a cavalry division, the Cavalry Ky- angerly for the Russian Separate Caucasian Corps, were formed in the newly acquired lands of contemporary Azerbaijan. Fighting against the Ottoman Turks, their co-religionists, on the battlefields in Eastern Anatolia they looked much better than the Russian units.10 After the war, a special Tran- scaucasian Muslim Cossack Army in the territory which is now called the Southern Caucasus was contemplated. The project was first postponed because the forces and assets allocated for it were used to suppress the Polish uprising of 1830-183111 and then buried in the 1840s when the mountain peoples led by Shamil rebelled in Daghestan and Chechnia. This means that the problem of religious affiliation surfaced in multinational and poly-confessional Russia only at times of distur- bances among its subjects.

The “Armenian Question” as an Instrument of Russian Geopolitics in the Caucasus

The so-called Armenian Question was the only dissonant sound in Russia’s policy in Transcau- casia; this was the only aspect of Russian colonization of the Central Caucasus which upturned the otherwise logical geopolitics in the region. I should say that this was a religious-confessional rather than a national issue since until February 1914 (when a new law on the freedom of religion was passed) there had been no idea of “nationality” as an element of the formal legal description of the individual. Its role belonged to the description of the individual’s confessional or religious affiliation. There was no Armenian Question, from the state legal point of view, in Russia. This issue is even better described as the Armenian Gregorian Question. In the Russian Empire, the Armenian Gregorian religious affiliation was a social and legal attribute of the Armenian ethnicity. The inadequately developed Orthodox theology of the time created the impression in the state political establishment that the Armenian Gregorian Church was canonically related to Orthodoxy because of similar rituals and attributes. In fact, the Armenian Apostolic Church is one of the Ancient Eastern Orthodox churches; it did not attend the IV Ecumenical Council, never accepted its decisions and, therefore, relies on the dogmas of the first three Ecumenical Coun- cils and follows the Non-Chalcedonian Christology of St. Cyril of Alexandria who preached One Nature of God the Logos Incarnate (miaphysitism). As distinct from the Orthodox dogma, the Arme- nian-Gregorian teaching rejects the idea of the Holy Trinity which brings its adepts closer to the Judaists and followers of all sorts of pseudo-Christian sects of the Judaizers (the Dukhobors, Molokans, etc.). From the viewpoint of contemporary Christian theology (Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant), the Armenian Gregorians are not Christians in the full sense of the word. The Russian military administrators in the Caucasus never went too deep into the theological subtleties: the followers of the Armenian Gregorian Church were Russia’s allies in the Southern Caucasus when it came to implementing military and political plans and ambitions. In fact, by the second quarter of the 19th century, the Armenian Question had developed into a linchpin of Russia’s geopolitics in Tran- scaucasia and retained its role for at least two centuries until the early 21st century.

10 See: Utverzhdenie russkogo vladychestva an Kavkaze: k 100-letiyu prisoedineniya Gruzii k Rossii, in 5 vols., ed. by V.A. Potto, Vol. 4 (Part 2), Tiflis, 1909, pp. 415-416. 11 See: F.F. Nagdaliev, Khany Nakhichevanskie v Rossiiskoy imperii, Novy argument, Moscow, 2006, pp. 93-98. Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 153 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION

Throughout the several decades Russia needed to detach the Central Caucasus from Persia and Turkey, the Russian Empire actively moved Armenian Gregorians from Persia and the Porte to the newly conquered Transcaucasian lands as stipulated both by the Turkmanchay Peace Treaty with Persia and the Adrianople Peace Treaty with the Sublime Porte. The process was realized on a mass scale: according to the official Russian figures, between the fall of 1829 and the spring of 1830, up to 15 thousand Armenian families were moved from the Ottoman Empire to Russia (between 90 and 100 thousand people). They arrived from the Erzurum and Kars regions.12 Two years earlier, approximately the same number of people was moved from Persia, and another 30 thousand from the Trabzon area. In fact, in less than three years, the Armenian population of the Southern Caucasus increased by a third of a million. This fast and massive movement of Armenians sanctioned, organized, and funded by the Russian administration can be described as the most convincing illustra- tion of Russia’s geopolitics in the Southern Caucasus. It is not my intention to cast doubt on the fact that Armenian Gregorians have been living in Transcaucasia from time immemorial. It cannot be disputed, however, that the huge wave of Armeni- an settlers from Persia and Turkey which engulfed the region at the turn of the 1830s radically changed the settlement structure of the Armenians in the newly acquired territories. Before that, the Armenian Gregorians never lived in compact groups in any of the feudal states of Transcaucasia and were never in the majority (the Erivan Khanate being no exception). The 1830 campaign of resettlement from Eastern Anatolia created compact Armenian settlements where they were in the majority. This is best illustrated by settlement in the environs of Gumr (now Gumri) and the Lori Valley13 organized by the Russian Caucasian Administration for Armenian settlers from the Ottoman Empire. Later they became the core of national statehood of contemporary Armenia. This means that Russia selected Armenian Gregorians (with no special services to the empire except for similar religious rites and attributes) as the main national and religious instrument of its geopolitics in the Southern Caucasus rather than the Azeri Muslims or Georgian Christians, who had many times demonstrated their loyalty to Russia and its geopolitical interests on the battlefield. The reasons lie outside the scope of this article; here I will limit myself to facts without plunging into the depths of explanations. Throughout the 19th and early 20th century, the Armenian vector determined Russia’s geopolitical priorities in the Southern Caucasus; this is further confirmed by the directions in which Russia moved its troops when fighting Turkey in Transcaucasia. Highly doubtful from the military-strategic point of view, they were fully justified in the military-political context. In the last four wars with the Ottoman Empire (1828-1829, 1853-1856, 1877-1878, and 1914-1918), the Russian generals invariably selected Erzurum (rather than Trabzon or Sinop) as the direction of the main thrust and final point of their offensive, even though the two ports would have made deliveries to the Russian troops fighting in Anatolia much easier. The Turkish Black Sea coast did not figure as a strategic aim in any of these wars: the Russian Empire was obviously determined to detach several regions of dubious military-strategic and economic importance with a large share of the Armenian Gregorian population from Turkey. This meant that for several centuries, the Armenian Project (which was never openly admitted) was on a par with the Greek Project. In the absence of reliable and well-documented information, we cannot tie together Russia’s Armenian Project and the Project of Greater Armenia, a state structure to be set up in the Ottoman territories Russia occupied during World War I under the Armistice of Moudros of 30 October, 1918 and the Sevres Peace Treaty of 10 August, 1920 between the Entente and the Ottoman Empire. The very fact that it was intended to transfer the Turkish territories earlier occupied by Russia (after it had withdrawn from the war under the Peace Treaty of Brest-Litovsk of 3 March, 1918) to Armenian

12 See: Utverzhdenie russkogo vladychestva na Kavkaze…, Vol. 4 (Part 2), pp. 453-454. 13 See: Ibidem. 154 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION nationalists confirms that the Armenian Project, which Russia and France had lobbied together, remained relevant even after Russia suffered a military and political defeat. The victory of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk and his supporters over the Allies in the War of Independence of 1919-1923 (of which the 1920 armed conflict with Armenia was a part) buried the Armenian Project. The future Republic of Turkey restored its sovereignty over the territories of Eastern Anatolia occupied first by Russia and then by Armenian armed units. The Armenian Project echoes in Russia’s contemporary foreign policy: in the 1990s, with the Soviet Union no longer on the stage, the Russian Federation actively supported the Armenians in the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. I will not go into the details of this choice suggested by the subjective preferences of certain people: it is not for a historian to comment on the positions of living people, yet I deem it necessary to say that there is an Armenian lobby in Russia’s political establishment. Recent- ly it has been losing its clout: its members are growing old and can no longer shape Russia’s geopolitics in the Central Caucasus.

Russia’s New Geopolitical Priorities in Transcaucasia

Today, Russia is gradually shifting its geopolitical priorities in Transcaucasia to fundamentally new principles and in accordance with current reality: ideological determinism with its obvious national and religious hues is being replaced with pragmatic approaches to foreign economic and foreign policy issues in the Central Caucasus. For objective reasons, a foreign policy U-turn in this extremely important sector will take time: the momentum created over the span of two centuries is too strong; it requires strength, time, and political will to be overcome. Recently, it has become clear that there is enough political will even though the political elites of the Central Caucasian states delighted with the first more or less significant date—20 years of national statehood—prefer to ignore this to remain in the habitual system of geopolitical coordinates. Throughout the two post-Soviet decades, Russia regarded Armenia as its natural ally in Tran- scaucasia, the most stable and predictable in the military and political respects. In the 1990s, against the background of Armenia’s and Armenians’ consolidated determination to dominate in the Central Caucasus, Georgia and Azerbaijan torn apart by clan wars looked like, or even were for a while, territories of permanent chaos. Today, the situation has changed dramatically, which means that Russia should look for new partners for conducting its course in Transcaucasia and Hither Asia (of which the region is geographically a part). Armenia is too weak economically; throughout the recent history of its national statehood it has been and remains a recipient of Rus- sia’s financial assistance and that of the Armenian diaspora. It can hardly develop into Russia’s strategic ally in the Central and Southern Caucasus. For political or national-religious reasons, which cropped up in a series of unfriendly foreign policy moves in relation to Russia, neither Geor- gia nor Azerbaijan can occupy the still vacant niche of Russia’s geopolitical partner in Transcauca- sia. They are not in a position to drop, at short notice and unilaterally, their earlier obligations to the other world power centers. To preserve its strategic influence in the Central and part of the Southern Caucasus, Russia has to look for allies outside the region. The choice is limited to the Islamic Republic of Iran and the Republic of Turkey. The former is ill-suited to the role of a strategic partner in Hither Asia because of its highly specific and unpredictable foreign policy and its dependence on the religious messianism of the political religious elite in the Islamic (Shi‘a in the first place) world. From this it follows that Turkey looks like the most probable candidate for the role of Russia’s geopolitical partner in Hither Asia, as well as in the Central and Southern Caucasus. Recently, state, political, economic and hu- Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 155 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION manitarian relations between the two countries have been developing by leaps and bounds. Today, there is an obvious trend toward new Russia’s geopolitical priorities in Transcaucasia and Hither Asia: the failed Greek and Armenian projects are being replaced with a Turkish project, a fact that all Caucasian countries should bear in mind. The strategic economic union of Russia and Turkey, which is daily acquiring new organizational traits, will inevitably deprive the sovereign Caucasian states of strategic political impact not only on a global, but also on a regional scale. This means that they will no longer be able to obtain any type of technical support directly from other world or regional power centers. During the Au- gust 2008 South Ossetian armed conflict, Turkey’s passive assistance to Russia demonstrated to the world that its establishment was prepared to exchange its geopolitical weight in the Caucasus for raw material and other economic preferences. In recent years, the political and economic partnership between Russia and Turkey has been moving toward the mutually advantageous ideology of Eurasianism actively promoted in both countries at the political and academic level. This will soon lead to a mutually advantageous ideological concept of Slavic-Turkic Eurasian unity that will leave no room for the politically independent national, state, and ethno-religious interests of the Cauca- sian peoples. In the mid-term perspective, Azerbaijan will profit more than its Central Caucasian neighbors from Russia’s new foreign policy vector. Baku, however, has done nothing to tap the favorable potential. Moreover, in the last twelve months Azerbaijan has been exposed to a campaign that propagan- dizes an ideology hostile to Russia geared toward the idea of “two centuries of genocide of the Azeri people” allegedly carried out in the Russian Empire. It is most graphically presented in the Russian- language printed matter published by the Azeri diaspora in Russia (on the pages and in the electronic version of the IRS-Nasledie journal and the Azerbaidzhanskiy kongress newspaper in the “200 Years of Genocide” column). This is obviously aimed at Armenia and its idea of the “genocide of the Arme- nians” during World War I. Baku, which funds these publications, and the Azeri diaspora prefer to ignore the fact that the year 2013 will mark the 200th anniversary of the Gulistan Peace Treaty between Russia and Persia which allowed the Azeri ethnicity, subjugated by the Persians, to develop into a nation. However, this process can only unfold if the Russian state demonstrates tolerance toward all of the peoples and confessions present in its territory. This made the Azeris a state-forming nation. On the other hand, the Azeris of Iran, who have been trying to acquire their statehood in Southern Azerbaijan for nearly 100 years, have not yet accomplished this.

Conclusion

Today we are watching, and are involved in global transformations of Russia’s geopolitics in the Central and part of the Southern Caucasus. We have a good chance of seeing with our own eyes whether the Turkish Project will replace the Armenian and Greek projects in the next ten years. My first conclusion about Russia’s geopolitics in Transcaucasia is that there is a geopolitical idea of Eur- asian Slavic-Turkic unity in which Russia and Turkey are jointly involved. The Turkish project is one of Russia’s objective foreign policy imperatives, the realization of which will strongly affect the situation in the Central Caucasus. In any case, the independent states and self-proclaimed state units in the Central Caucasus will have to take the changed geopolitical context in the Black Sea-Caucasian region into account. The European Union and NATO (which the ruling elites of some of the Central Caucasian countries regard as their natural allies) are losing their grip on the region. The shift in the power centers of Caucasian regional geopolitics will inevitably deprive the political elites of Azerbaijan, Arme- nia, and Georgia of their continued opportunity to exploit the conflict of interests among stronger 156 Volume 6 Issue 1 2012 THE CAUCASUS & GLOBALIZATION and more responsible political players, since some of them are joining forces for the sake of their own corporate interests, thus contradicting the corporate interests of the Central Caucasian political elites. In the next ten years, the Caucasus will live through serious transformations designed to promote its further integration into the world system, which has so far been impossible because of regional conflicts. The world around the Central Caucasus has undergone qualitative changes, and it is up to its local political elites to decide how they will adapt to these transformations.