ne would have hoped that the invasion of Ukraine would have prompted greater introspection on what the West thinks it knows about Russia—an effort to understand the history of the crisis itself and how history has been manipulated for the Kremlin’s narrative, not to provide moral absolution or equivalence, but to better inform contemporary and future policies. While there were some preliminary efforts, it became the case that suggesting that policymakers should better understand Russia’s history and its view quickly became, and remains, tantamount to heresy; that saying there may be value in seeing the world from Moscow’s point of view is akin to declaring allegiance to Putin’s Russia.
There is no moral equivalence—Russia’s war of aggression, war crimes, and expansionist pan-Slavic idealism are not the same as Ukraine’s fight for independence and national survival. Yet, understanding and even empathizing with your adversary’s motivations and historical narrative (however ahistorical it may be) is necessary for diplomatic and military success, full stop, regardless of the performative zeitgeist.
There is, of course, a risk in assuming that history is deterministic—that only the past defines the present. However, history and the myths surrounding it do shape the present. Ukraine vividly and violent illustrates this reality. In his new book “Russia: Myths and Realities” (a copy of which was provided by the publisher for review), Sir Rodric Braithwaite—a former British Ambassador to the Russian Federation—explores how successive generations used and shaped history to suit the purposes of the present. This has had tragic consequences. Putin, according to Braithwaite, “Consumed by his own myth, …condemned his country to widespread ostracism…” by invading Ukraine.
Failing to understand both history and others’ views has led and undoubtedly will continue to lead to bad policy making. We ignore history at our peril. Historian Orlando Figes’ succinctly and accurate captures this saying, “Contemporary Russian politics are too often analyzed without knowledge of the country’s past. To grasp what Putin really means for Russia and the broader world we need to understand how his governance relates to the long-term patterns of Russian history.” He is not wrong and this is a recurring theme in his new book “The Story of Russia.”
Despite knowing this, time and time again we seem inclined to dismiss complexity and nuance in favor of pith, snark, and wrongheaded heuristics. Washington’s understanding of Russia is based on the seventy-year Cold War, which is barely a blip in the thousand-year history of Russia and its past. We assume Russia to be all and only about Putin and denigrate the country as nothing more than a gas station with nuclear weapons. This leads to policies based on these shortcuts.
Reading both Braithwaite’s and Figes’ books it was difficult not to find myself comparing them to Galeotti’s “A Short History of Russia,” which was one of my (and the Diplomatic Courier’s) best books of 2021. Indeed, I was clearly not alone. Historian Daniel Beer of University College London penned a review of all three books in the Washington Post. Galeotti naturally had a leg up as the first among the recent crop of books on Russian history. I wrote then that it left you wanting more in the best of ways—a desire that both Braithwaite and Figes deliver, providing more information and contextualization.
Braithwaite, Figes, and Galeotti all seek to correct the shortcomings of the West’s collective understanding of Russian history in their own ways. It may seem like a bit much to suggest that readers engage with all three, but those that do will be rewarded. Galeotti’s is the most easily accessible and user friendly of the three. It is written with his breezy and engaging style that pulls the reader in without sacrificing nuance.
Braithwaite’s “Myths and Realities” is, like Galeotti’s, a concise, focused, and enjoyable history of Russia. It builds on Galeotti’s historical thread, showing where and how Russia’s past is shaped by its own hand and myths of its own making, tying this past to Russia’s complex present. Braithwaite deconstructs many of the narratives that Russia presents to itself and to the world. This is not done maliciously, but merely to set the historical record straight. This is invaluable—it shows myths for what they are, but also how they influence the world today. In many ways the facts of history matter less than what people believe to be true. Every country has its own historical myths, but the malleability of Russia’s history at the hands of its leaders is quite striking.
However, Braithwaite also shows how the West’s own myths about Russia have fed into Russia’s view of itself—explaining the “othering” of Russia in Western narratives. Throughout the history presented by Braithwaite, he calls back contemporaneous comparisons with Europe, showing that what was happening in Russia was not that different or somehow uniquely Russian. Braithwaite captures this tension quite well—that Russia is both unique and not. This is a tension that repeatedly emerges within Russia’s attempts to understand itself and find its place in the contemporary world—one that is arguably very much still present today. Europe’s historical interactions with Russia exacerbated this process, generating a push-pull dynamism between the continent and its Eurasian counterpart. Russia, particularly in the 18th and 19th centuries comes across as a country desperately trying to reconcile its desires to be “European” with that of being itself, while Europe looked down upon its eastern neighbor as distinctly “other.”
Throughout Figes’ “Story of Russia,” he too layers how the past and its manipulation have led to the present—a present that is far less an aberration for Moscow than for European capitals. The West may have moved on from interstate war and spheres of influence—assuming its policies were benign and benevolent—but this was not the case from Moscow’s point of view. History may have “ended” for Washington and its continental counterparts, but it most certainly had not for Moscow.
For Figes, the antecedents of Russian behavior today were well sown. Whether it was Russia’s perception that the West ignored its sacrifices to defend Europe, the foundations of the kormlenie (or feeding) system of corruption, or the nature of contemporary politics, Figes finds that the faults of today are well-rooted in the past. He writes, “The persistence of autocracy in Russia is explained less by the state’s strengths than by the weakness of society… This imbalance—between a dominating state and a weak society—has shaped the course of Russian history.” It is of course not deterministic, though Figes does at time comes across as both fatalistic and deterministic. For him, the Westernizing efforts of the 1990s were all but doomed to fail. Equally, the West missed an opportunity to bring a Post-Soviet Russia into the fold, instead lecturing Russia and imposing Western political economic orthodoxy while enlarging NATO.
Will Russia escape from its history? Both Figes and Braithwaite appear generally on the same page when it comes to Russia’s future. For Figes, “Russia’s future is uncertain. But one this is for sure: its history will never be the same again.” Likewise, Braithwaite writes, “Determined optimists might hope that the shock of the Ukraine war would change the way that Russians look at their past and perhaps make them open to a different and more constructive future.”
History inevitably shapes the present, but while it was a driving factor in the present war, it is the decisions of today that will define its resolution. Inevitably, as both Braithwaite and Figes demonstrate, the Kremlin will use and shape history to fit its own narrative—for good or, more likely, for ill. Yet, this is less a function of Putin and his inner circle, and more, as both write, a result of Russia’s long history—one that this disastrous war will dramatically affect in the future.
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Reading Russia’s Past to See Ukraine’s Present
Preparing for the May Day celebrations, Red Square, Moscow, 1988. Photo by Steve Harvey via Unsplash.
October 29, 2022
In his latest book review, Joshua Huminski examines “Russia: Myths and Realities” by Sir Rodric Braithwaite and “The Story of Russia” by Orlando Figes, both of which seek to correct the shortcomings of the West’s collective understanding of Russian history.
O
ne would have hoped that the invasion of Ukraine would have prompted greater introspection on what the West thinks it knows about Russia—an effort to understand the history of the crisis itself and how history has been manipulated for the Kremlin’s narrative, not to provide moral absolution or equivalence, but to better inform contemporary and future policies. While there were some preliminary efforts, it became the case that suggesting that policymakers should better understand Russia’s history and its view quickly became, and remains, tantamount to heresy; that saying there may be value in seeing the world from Moscow’s point of view is akin to declaring allegiance to Putin’s Russia.
There is no moral equivalence—Russia’s war of aggression, war crimes, and expansionist pan-Slavic idealism are not the same as Ukraine’s fight for independence and national survival. Yet, understanding and even empathizing with your adversary’s motivations and historical narrative (however ahistorical it may be) is necessary for diplomatic and military success, full stop, regardless of the performative zeitgeist.
There is, of course, a risk in assuming that history is deterministic—that only the past defines the present. However, history and the myths surrounding it do shape the present. Ukraine vividly and violent illustrates this reality. In his new book “Russia: Myths and Realities” (a copy of which was provided by the publisher for review), Sir Rodric Braithwaite—a former British Ambassador to the Russian Federation—explores how successive generations used and shaped history to suit the purposes of the present. This has had tragic consequences. Putin, according to Braithwaite, “Consumed by his own myth, …condemned his country to widespread ostracism…” by invading Ukraine.
Failing to understand both history and others’ views has led and undoubtedly will continue to lead to bad policy making. We ignore history at our peril. Historian Orlando Figes’ succinctly and accurate captures this saying, “Contemporary Russian politics are too often analyzed without knowledge of the country’s past. To grasp what Putin really means for Russia and the broader world we need to understand how his governance relates to the long-term patterns of Russian history.” He is not wrong and this is a recurring theme in his new book “The Story of Russia.”
Despite knowing this, time and time again we seem inclined to dismiss complexity and nuance in favor of pith, snark, and wrongheaded heuristics. Washington’s understanding of Russia is based on the seventy-year Cold War, which is barely a blip in the thousand-year history of Russia and its past. We assume Russia to be all and only about Putin and denigrate the country as nothing more than a gas station with nuclear weapons. This leads to policies based on these shortcuts.
Reading both Braithwaite’s and Figes’ books it was difficult not to find myself comparing them to Galeotti’s “A Short History of Russia,” which was one of my (and the Diplomatic Courier’s) best books of 2021. Indeed, I was clearly not alone. Historian Daniel Beer of University College London penned a review of all three books in the Washington Post. Galeotti naturally had a leg up as the first among the recent crop of books on Russian history. I wrote then that it left you wanting more in the best of ways—a desire that both Braithwaite and Figes deliver, providing more information and contextualization.
Braithwaite, Figes, and Galeotti all seek to correct the shortcomings of the West’s collective understanding of Russian history in their own ways. It may seem like a bit much to suggest that readers engage with all three, but those that do will be rewarded. Galeotti’s is the most easily accessible and user friendly of the three. It is written with his breezy and engaging style that pulls the reader in without sacrificing nuance.
Braithwaite’s “Myths and Realities” is, like Galeotti’s, a concise, focused, and enjoyable history of Russia. It builds on Galeotti’s historical thread, showing where and how Russia’s past is shaped by its own hand and myths of its own making, tying this past to Russia’s complex present. Braithwaite deconstructs many of the narratives that Russia presents to itself and to the world. This is not done maliciously, but merely to set the historical record straight. This is invaluable—it shows myths for what they are, but also how they influence the world today. In many ways the facts of history matter less than what people believe to be true. Every country has its own historical myths, but the malleability of Russia’s history at the hands of its leaders is quite striking.
However, Braithwaite also shows how the West’s own myths about Russia have fed into Russia’s view of itself—explaining the “othering” of Russia in Western narratives. Throughout the history presented by Braithwaite, he calls back contemporaneous comparisons with Europe, showing that what was happening in Russia was not that different or somehow uniquely Russian. Braithwaite captures this tension quite well—that Russia is both unique and not. This is a tension that repeatedly emerges within Russia’s attempts to understand itself and find its place in the contemporary world—one that is arguably very much still present today. Europe’s historical interactions with Russia exacerbated this process, generating a push-pull dynamism between the continent and its Eurasian counterpart. Russia, particularly in the 18th and 19th centuries comes across as a country desperately trying to reconcile its desires to be “European” with that of being itself, while Europe looked down upon its eastern neighbor as distinctly “other.”
Throughout Figes’ “Story of Russia,” he too layers how the past and its manipulation have led to the present—a present that is far less an aberration for Moscow than for European capitals. The West may have moved on from interstate war and spheres of influence—assuming its policies were benign and benevolent—but this was not the case from Moscow’s point of view. History may have “ended” for Washington and its continental counterparts, but it most certainly had not for Moscow.
For Figes, the antecedents of Russian behavior today were well sown. Whether it was Russia’s perception that the West ignored its sacrifices to defend Europe, the foundations of the kormlenie (or feeding) system of corruption, or the nature of contemporary politics, Figes finds that the faults of today are well-rooted in the past. He writes, “The persistence of autocracy in Russia is explained less by the state’s strengths than by the weakness of society… This imbalance—between a dominating state and a weak society—has shaped the course of Russian history.” It is of course not deterministic, though Figes does at time comes across as both fatalistic and deterministic. For him, the Westernizing efforts of the 1990s were all but doomed to fail. Equally, the West missed an opportunity to bring a Post-Soviet Russia into the fold, instead lecturing Russia and imposing Western political economic orthodoxy while enlarging NATO.
Will Russia escape from its history? Both Figes and Braithwaite appear generally on the same page when it comes to Russia’s future. For Figes, “Russia’s future is uncertain. But one this is for sure: its history will never be the same again.” Likewise, Braithwaite writes, “Determined optimists might hope that the shock of the Ukraine war would change the way that Russians look at their past and perhaps make them open to a different and more constructive future.”
History inevitably shapes the present, but while it was a driving factor in the present war, it is the decisions of today that will define its resolution. Inevitably, as both Braithwaite and Figes demonstrate, the Kremlin will use and shape history to fit its own narrative—for good or, more likely, for ill. Yet, this is less a function of Putin and his inner circle, and more, as both write, a result of Russia’s long history—one that this disastrous war will dramatically affect in the future.
