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Alexei Navalny and the ‘Affair of the Poisons’, à la russe

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by N. Alexander

Falling ill on a plane from Omsk to Moscow, the ex-lawyer and blogger on corruption in Russia, Alexei Navalny was rushed to the hospital after a suspected – and later proven – poisoning (Image credit: Getty Images/AFP/K. Kudrayavtsev)

‘When will Putin learn?’ It is a question now once again asked after the alleged poisoning of Russian politician and anti-corruption activist Alexei Navalny. Russian commentators from Navalny’s inner circle, social media news-brokers, as well as Western governments and journalists, lost no time in identifying ‘the perp’ as Russian President Vladimir Putin. After all, is not Navalny ‘the man Vladimir Putin fears most’?

Although German doctors treating Navalny claim to have found traces of a ‘Novichok’-type agent in his system, there is still no conclusive evidence presented publicly, nor is there any viable clue about who Navalny was poisoned by, or why. In such a situation, one would do well to hold out on judgement and to ignore one’s gut feeling. However, the opposite is true. Indeed, why look for certainty, when we already know the answer?

While the theory of Putin’s involvement in the poisoning of his political opponent fits snugly with the flurry of accusations levelled at the Kremlin over the years, a lethal attack against Navalny, in particular, is both unnecessary and harmful to the Russian government. Setting aside the fact that as a method, political assassinations have been employed widely (including by governments which profess the highest of democratic values) such an interpretation fails to take into account both the pattern of Putin’s risk-taking when making political choices, and the level of threat Alexei Navalny actually presents to the Russian President personally, as well as to the political establishment as a whole. This discussion seeks to point to some of the discrepancies which separate the abstractly possible from the eminently probable.

‘No Pain, no Gain’: Putin and Political Risks

Over the years Vladimir Putin amply demonstrated his ability to take risks. However, equally demonstrable is the fact that such risks, with the cost they inevitably carry, also have the potential to bring about enormous dividends. The case of Crimea demonstrates this vividly.

The acquisition of Crimea (unification or annexation, depending on one’s political perspective) carried with it the inevitable risk of an outcry by Russia’s international opponents and antagonists, as well as a high probability of sanctions. Yet manifest as well were the dividends. Crimea might not be of major economic benefit, it might not have oil reserves or uranium deposits, but it is a cultural-ideological ‘trophy’ in a country which puts premium value on history as the bearer of national pride. For a Russian, regardless of personal political views or aspirations, Crimea carries immense historic, ethnic, and national value, and is perceived almost as an element of national identity. For a political leader, the return of Crimea is a manifestation of politics of strength within the context of a historical vision, it is a message of defiance of external pressures in a country particularly sensitive to cultural and political penetration from the outside. In short, Crimea is the example par excellence of Vladimir Putin accepting risks for a particular profit: international outcry for domestic approval, and national sacrifices for his own great Russian vision.[1]

By contrast, the Navalny affair currently unfolding carries no gains, no promises, nor any dividends whatsoever. Putin, his inner circle, ‘the Kremlin’, the ruling elite as a whole gain nothing from Navalny’s potential martyrdom. In fact, they have much to lose from it. Vague and unproven accusations levelled at Russia are already accompanied by threats of sanctions and demands for Russia to open its military research to NATO inspectors.

The Navalny phenomenon

As an anti-corruption blogger, Navalny rose to prominence rather quickly, capitalising on the PR value of high-profile exposés. His investigations, published online for a broad audience, were read widely for years, both by critics of the system and those who, while generally loyal, were critical or suspicious of particular elements of the new ruling elite. Navalny has managed very successfully to give concrete examples to otherwise anecdotal rumours of abuses critics of the system were spreading for years. However, the mere fact of selective dissatisfaction with aspects of the system is not enough to produce active opposition in Russian society. Put plainly, the average Russian citizen can still be loyal to the system and a believer therein, and at the same time find elements to criticise and even resist against. This is one of several key reasons why Navalny’s message has not proven powerful enough to dent the government’s powerbase significantly.

Navalny’s anti-corruption campaign seemed for a time to be the stuff political stars are made of. He has indeed risen from a humble blogger to an organiser of what is seen in the West as mass protests in opposition to the government. Two things, however, have to be pointed out.

First, ‘mass’ is a relative term, and even tens of thousands of city dwellers in a major centre of European Russia are not necessarily representative of a much larger electorate which is generally politically conservative in its outlook.[2] Second, protests, even sizeable ones, although indicative of political awareness, are not evidence of a prominent or permanent change of political perception, as evidenced in the consistently high levels of Vladimir Putin’s popularity. Putin’s approval ratings over the years, even at their lowest, have stayed well above the 50% mark, consistently dwarfing those of even the most prominent Western politicians.

The ineffectiveness of Navalny’s particular brand of activism in augmenting his political capital lies ultimately in its structure. His anti-corruption approach is not unlike that of Putin himself early on in his Presidency when dealing with the oligarchical elite of the 1990s.[3] Like Putin, Navalny consistently focused on high-profile individuals from the socio-political elite, while leaving largely untouched the broader culture of corruption in Russian institutions. The targets of his investigations were prominent enough to generate hype and gossip, but this did not translate into nation-wide opposition. This is because, on the perceptional level, the corruption of the upper strata of a political elite is a given among those who are eager to criticise the political and social status quo. Meaning, Navalny’s main powerbase speaks more to those Russians who are already part of an opposition, rather than attracting a multitude of new political ‘converts’. Furthermore, on the practical level, the exposition of high-level corruption, while excellent headlines material, has little direct effect on the daily life of a population which is harmed much more frequently and harshly by corruption at the lower levels of social organisation – local administration, low-level dispute resolution, police, etc.

In short, while Navalny’s anti-corruption activity has made him well-known as an activist, it has not been enough to make him a political force to appeal widely on a national level, and thus be reckoned with.

Navalny did manage to gather a significant percentage of the vote for mayor of Moscow in the 2013 election. However, it is improbable that his attempts to run for President would have been successful even had they not been thwarted. While a timely conviction and disqualified him from a presidential run in 2018 as an independent candidate, he was not able to gather the necessary signatures to formally register in the first place. Even the 700,000 potential voters he reported as pledged would not have been enough to push him ahead if he was not disqualified.

Since then, Navalny’s political influence has seen a moderate rise on the regional level, where he has sought to ally himself with other opposition parties and groups in order to diminish the dominant influence of United Russia candidates, for example, in the elections for Governor of the St Petersburg region. Yet there is little to suggest that his influence nation-wide is particularly threatening for Putin’s United Russia party.

Off with his head?

The key question is whether Navalny is dangerous enough for it to be necessary to have him taken off the playing field, quite literally. While moderately influential, he is neither a major force on his own nor the leader that would stir the fragmented Russian opposition to and unite around him.

Previously, the Russian authorities have had little trouble blocking Navalny’s various bids for power. They have done so while maintaining a thin veneer of legality, effectively using the various loopholes of the Russian legal system to keep him in check without it being necessary to harm him to achieve this goal. By contrast, an assassination attempt would only reinforce any message that Navalny is carrying, while a fatal outcome could make him into the martyr Boris Nemtsov could never have been.

The usual suspect?

It is, of course, very easy to point the finger at Putin as the usual suspect. It fits into the easily-marketed image of the Russian autocrat, dangerous, unpredictable, and yet oh so transparently evil.[4] Built on a decades-long tradition of mistrust, it is no surprise that criticism of Russia ‘sells’. Often opportunistically self-serving, it is an easy and palatable interpretation, revived as soon as Russia started gaining back its prominence following the collapse of the USSR and a decade of political, ideological and economic crisis.[5]

Yet the truth, perhaps a sad reflection of the modesty of liberal opposition movements in Russia, is that Alexei Navalny, while a man of purpose and a man of recognition, is not dangerous enough for the Kremlin to seek to assassinate him. Doing so, in fact, would create unnecessary complications internationally while bringing no benefit domestically for a leadership which is going through a period of crisis and increased criticism domestically and internationally.

This discussion seeks to point to some of the discrepancies which separate the abstractly possible from the eminently probable.

It is worth, perhaps, remembering that Alexei Navalny has stepped on many toes over the years. The fact that any enemies he has thus made might be part of the political establishment does not immediately substantiate complicity by the Kremlin, particularly as an attack on Navalny would be both unnecessary and harmful to the President and to the Russian Government as a whole. As such,  a variety of possible interpretations present themselves.

At this point, it is difficult to say which of these hold water. The proposition of the Kremlin’s supposed complicity sits very uncomfortably with the lack of a logical justification of such an excessive measure since existing, bloodless alternatives have proven very successful in managing Navalny’s political influence.

Equally implausible is the assumption of a political provocation by the opposition or the West. This has already been aired as a possible scenario by Vyacheslav Volodin, the Chairman of the State Duma, potentially as a rhetorical counter to insinuations in the Western press about government complicity, and to direct threats by the U.S. State Department. Navalny is simply too valuable to both; put bluntly, he is much more valuable alive than dead.

An even more extreme interpretation is that an attack on Navalny is part of a complex coup orchestrated from within government circles seeking to bring Putin down. Dangerously close to a conspiracy theory, this requires extensive corroborating evidence, and possibly also a much more intelligent understanding of the delicate interplay and balance of power in the corridors of the Kremlin.

Perhaps a simpler explanation suggests itself: Navalny’s activism has certainly gained him many powerful enemies, and it is at least as plausible for this attack to be an unsanctioned move for the satisfaction of a personal vendetta. Depending on who the person responsible might be, it is plausible the Kremlin will be forced to save face by covering them up.

Allowing passions, preconceptions, and biases to underpin political opinion, political proclamation, and political resolution has over the past years become more and more the norm. And yet in order to get a more plausible interpretation of events, it is inevitably important to occasionally ask – who benefits?

[1] This polarising issue has resulted in a large outpour of comment and analysis, mostly extremely partisan on both sides of the spectrum. For a balanced overview and assessment, see Richard Sakwa, Frontline Ukraine: Crisis in the Borderlands (London & New York: I.B. Tauris, 2015), ch. 5.

[2] An indicative, if somewhat indirectly related example which demonstrates the general conservatism of Russian society is the much-reported Pussy Riot controversy. Following the arrest of its members after an alternative protest performance in the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour in Moscow in February 2012, widely condemned as sacrilegious, polls conducted reported that about 80% of widely pooled respondents were in favour of a conviction, whether prison terms (37%), forced labour (26%), or a large fine (20%). See Levada Centre, ‘Rossiyane o dele Pussy Riot’ [‘Russians on the Pussy Riot Case’], online at https://www.levada.ru/2012/07/31/rossiyane-o-dele-pussy-riot/.

[3] Richard Sakwa, Putin: Russia’s Choice (London & New York: Routledge, 2008), pp. 143-150.

[4] See, for example, Heidi Blake, From Russia with Blood: Putin’s Ruthless Killing Campaign and Secret War on the West (London: William Collins, 2019), and Amy Knight, Orders to Kill: The Putin Regime and Political Murder (Thomas Dunne, 2017). For a more nuanced and balanced recent view, see Richard Sakwa, The Putin Paradox (London & New York: I.B. Tauris, 2020).

[5] For an overview of the crucial period of the 1990s see Roy A. Medvedev, Post-Soviet Russia: A Journey through the Yeltsin Era (New York & Chichester: Columbia University Press 2000), and Andrew Felkay, Yeltsin’s Russia and the West (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2002). For a good overview of the ‘new Cold War’ currently raging, see Richard Sakwa, Russia Against the Rest: The Post-Cold War Crisis of World Order (Cambridge & New York: Cambridge University Press, 2017).

N. Alexander a historian teaching at King’s College London and a keen observer of Russian politics.

 

 

 

 

Russian and British Imperial Policies towards Ukrainian and Welsh

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by Daria Platonova

The Ems Edict of 1876 banned the use of the Ukrainian language in print (Image credit: Mozok)

In 2014, language came to the forefront of politics in Ukraine for the second time since 2012 and with far serious consequences than before. After the flight of President Yanukovych on 21 February 2014, the new Ukrainian government provisionally repealed the 2012 Kivalov-Kolesnichenko law that granted Russian, among other minority languages, the status of the regional language in the east of Ukraine where it was most widely spoken. This had meant that Russian could be used at courts, schools, and businesses as the regional language in the east. People of the eastern cities and towns, such as Donets’k[1] and Kharkiv, took to the streets, protesting against the repeal with the slogans “Russian is our language”. Many appealed to Russia for help.

Radicals such as Donetsk Republic (a radical movement calling for the secession of the Donbas from Ukraine), who called the former President Viktor Yushchenko’s (2005 – 2010) language policies of Ukrainisation “the genocide of Russian speakers”, came to the forefront of the protest movement in Donets’k. The fact that the interim President Oleksandr Turchynov vetoed the repeal of the language law on 28 February 2014 and the new government pledged to revise its language policies failed to register with the people in the east, and the protests continued. These protests later morphed into an insurgency, with the help of Russian non-state actors, and led to the eventual secession from Ukraine of two regions, Donets’k and Luhans’k, in May 2014. The local elites in Donets’k lay the blame for these developments on Kyiv who, to them, pursued “incorrect policies” towards the east. In this article, I draw attention to somewhat more far-fetched but no less significant historical events. I present a comparative review of Russian and British imperial policies towards Ukrainian and Welsh respectively to demonstrate that empires would often suppress native languages in the public sphere in order to promote their lingua francas (most commonly spoken languages), for a variety of reasons.

Many Ukrainian nationalists, such as Ivan Dziuba, and the generations of Ukrainian writers since decried Russian imperial and later Soviet policies of russification which suppressed the use and development of Ukrainian. They emphasise how these policies damaged the development of Ukrainian identity. In the 21st century, language in Ukraine became a plaything of various political forces, such as the Party of Regions, who would often campaign with a promise to make Russian the official language of Ukraine, only to renege on their promises once in power. By contrast, President Yushchenko (2005 – 2010) pursued consistent policies of Ukrainisation, making Ukrainian the official language of the public sphere and all levels of education, which was used as a negative campaign ploy by the Russophone Viktor Yanukovych in his presidential election campaign before he was elected President in 2010. I argue that when it comes to the language policies in the Russian Empire, it was not alone in suppressing local native languages.

Ukrainian in the Russian Empire

In the second half of the 19th century, the Russian imperial bureaucracy began to target the Ukrainian or Little Russian language and Ukrainophiles (the promoters of the Ukrainian culture and language), such as Mykhailo Drahomaniv, systematically. Alexei Miller has written extensively on the origins, successes, and failures of these policies. Thus, in 1863, the Russian imperial bureaucracy issued the so-called Valuev circular, which aimed at curbing publications in Ukrainian intended for primary mass reading, including textbooks and religious texts. It also prohibited primary education in Ukrainian. Miller and other historians such as Olga Andriewsky trace the origins of the circular to the political situation in the Russian empire, such as the Polish Uprising of 1863 and Russia’s defeat in the Crimean war.[2] Valuev himself thought of the Ukrainian language as “a Polish tool in the struggle against the Empire”. The makers of the circular argued that the language “has never existed and, despite all the efforts of the Ukrainophiles, “still does not exist“.

Miller traces the origins of the second significant legislation, the Ems edict or ukaz, to the concern about the “manifestations of Ukrainophile activities, such as book publications in the Little Russian (malorusski) dialect (or Ukrainian)”. One of the explanatory notes to the edict that was finally issued in 1876 tellingly says, “The emergence of literature among Latvians can be considered as safe for the unity and integrity of Russia. On the contrary, it would be the greatest political imprudence to allow a separation of 13 million Little Russians by the means of giving the Ukrainian dialect the status of a language of high culture”. Further, the note maintained the central role of the Little Russia in the Russian-Polish conflict, saying “if the Little Russia becomes Polish again, the present greatness of the Russian state would be in grave danger”. The Ukrainophile movement was consequently labelled “the brainchild of the Austrian-Polish intrigue” that endangered the unity and integrity of Russia.

Hence, according to the Ems circular, the publication of literature in Ukrainian, with the exception of ancient texts and works of fine literature, was circumscribed; literary imports from abroad were forbidden; Ukrainian literature was now completely under control of the Chief Directorate on Publications. Miller shows how the imperial bureaucracy sought to minimise the grammatical and orthographical differences between Russian and Ukrainian. Other parts of the edict prohibited elementary instruction in Ukrainian as well as led not only to the closure of the Ukrainophile Kyiv Geographical Society but also the immediate exile of Ukrainophiles Drahomaniv and Chubinskiy. Thus, between 1896 and 1900, the Kyiv censorship committee forbade 15% of Ukrainian publications every year, compared to 2% of publications in other languages. Russian remained the language of administration, economy and mass communication. This was particularly true in the great cities of Kyiv and Odessa.

Welsh in the British Empire

In his book on the Ukrainian question, Miller notes that in France and Britain similar assimilatory processes took place over the 19th century and early 20th century, but there were no attempts to restrict minority-language publications through censorship. Assimilation was practised primarily through schools and in the workplace. In fact, in the 18th century, elementary education in Welsh flourished. Yet, by the 19th century political instability (Jacobin revolts) hit the schools hard. By the early 20th century, like Ukrainian, Welsh became associated with peasantry, working classes and, above all, urban disorder and political instability. In the industrial south-east (almost a mirror image of the rural Ukraine), there was a large “unstable” working-class population. Many of them were not Anglicans and most of them did not speak English as their first language. In 1800 – 1, there was a revolt over food prices, and massive demonstrations against wage cuts took place in 1816. Overall, riots were endemic in the 19th century in Wales. After one such riot, called the Newport Rising in 1839, the failure of the authorities to identify the instigators was attributed to the language barrier.

In 1847, the government inquiry into the state of education in Wales led to the publication of the so-called “Blue Books” in which “the Welsh were portrayed as ill-educated, poor, dirty, unchaste and potentially rebellious”, while the Welsh language was described as “the great evil”. Evans writes that the Welsh language and Nonconformity were made to carry most of the blame for the poor state of Wales. The books paved the way for government and state intervention in education so that by 1870 a wholly English system of instruction could be applied to Wales under Forster’s Education Act of the same year. The Reports also reduced the self-confidence of Welsh people and created in many quarters a strong sense of national inferiority.

In the 1850s and 1860s, Evans writes that “there occurred a massive cultural and political shift … and the Welsh were encouraged to forget their past with its passion for poetry, legend and history. The new emphasis was on practical knowledge, industriousness, progress, the language of success and the Victorian ethos of self-improvement”. Schools and parents became resistant to the introduction of Welsh because it prevented further integration with England and career success. Thus, a Welsh-speaking Anglican clergyman, the Revd Shadrach Pryce, considered the Welsh language to be useless in educational terms. Many were of the view, for example the rector of Merthyr Tydfil Revd Daniel Lewis, that the introduction of Welsh in the schools was dangerous and undesirable: “the language is a spoken one; it has really no body of literature of its own”, except for “very feeble poetry”. This is eerily reminiscent of the key Ukrainophile Mykhailo Drahomaniv’s remark that if Ukrainian was to become the chief language of instruction in Ukraine, the pupils would be put on the literary “St Anthony’s diet”.

By the early 20th century, due to the rapid urbanisation, English became “the language of advancement and promotion”, just as Russian was in the Russian Empire. Pupils at schools were learning English and its enforcement became associated with physical punishments, such as the infamous Welsh Knot. Smith writes,

“Welsh was not accorded any status as a medium of official business, nor the language of genteel society, nor of the expanding commercial and industrial world, and neither was it the language of academia and learning. Indeed, the domain of the Welsh language was increasingly limited to domesticity and religious worship, and it was regarded as a hindrance rather than an advantage to personal advancement and social progress”.

Thus, according to the calculations of E.G.Ravenstein, 71.2 per cent of the population of Wales was able to speak Welsh in 1871. By 1901, this figure was slightly less than half of the population . According to J. Southall’s Wales and Her Language published in 1892, Welsh was becoming disused and many children were becoming ashamed of their native tongue. Smith concludes that the opposition to the Welsh language reflected underlying social attitudes rather than any specific language policy. In contrast, the Russian imperial government pursued specific language policies towards Ukrainian, as later did the Ukrainian government towards the official language of the country and other languages.

Conclusion

In the 21st century, language remained an important issue in Ukraine and it became entangled with politics. This has deeper historical roots as the Ukrainian language was also a deeply political issue for the Russian bureaucracy in the Russian Empire. Two edicts forbade publications for mass reading in Ukrainian and instruction in the language. It was deemed that the development of Ukrainian endangered the Russian Empire as it was associated with “Polish intrigues”. Similarly, Welsh language became associated with the “unstable” working classes and urban riots in the British Empire. Publications in Welsh were not forbidden as such, but the language was gradually suppressed in schools. English became the language of career advancement and increasing urbanisation. In both empires, the lingua francas became unassailable by the minority languages by the early 20th century. By the time of its independence, the Ukrainian government therefore faced with the legacy of the Russian imperial policies towards Ukrainian the impact of which it persistently strove to override.

[1] I have used the Ukrainian spelling in line with the established academic practice.

[2] Olga Andriewsky, “The Russian-Ukrainian discourse and the failure of the Little Russian solution, 1782 – 1917” in A. Kappeler et al., eds. Culture, Nation, and Identity: the Ukrainian-Russian encounter

Daria is a PhD student at King’s College London. Her research focuses on violence and the unfolding of conflict across several regions in eastern Ukraine, 2013 – 2014. She also leads one of the Causes of War seminars in the War Studies Department. Prior to joining King’s, she worked as a teacher. She graduated with a degree in History from the University of Cambridge in 2011. Her broader interests include European history, war studies, and interdisciplinary methods.

Internet Sovereignty as a Gateway to Global Norms: The Battle over Global Internet Governance

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by Eve Gleeson

18 July 2019

A borderless world, or not really? (Image credit: Pxhere)

Introduction

The Internet’s essence as “open, global, [and] borderless” has complicated attempts toward international cooperation on Internet governance. Many authoritarian states with comprehensive cybersecurity policies and strategies regard the Internet as a tool to monitor and quell internal dissent that may threaten regime stability, while liberal democracies, especially those belonging to Western multilateral organisations such as the EU and NATO, have tended to conceive of it rather as a borderless space free from excessive regulation.

Authoritarian states, such as Russia, China and the states with whom they maintain rather informal ties, such as Iran and Southeastern Asian states like Malaysia and Indonesia, clash with the proponents of liberal democracy whose values traditionally prevail in international institutions. As leaders of the Internet Sovereignty (IS) movement, China and Russia hope to use their growing diplomatic influence to manipulate global Internet governance standards in favour of state sovereignty. This article will discuss how the values of IS may impact the global power balance and a transnational Internet governance agreement, stressing the position of Russia and China in global diplomatic bodies.

Transnational cybersecurity governance

Bodies like the UN and its agency the International Telecommunications Union have created and reviewed numerous initiatives concerning transnational Internet protocols. However, these initiatives have proved to be vague and incomplete strategies victim to gridlock and technical limitations. IS leaders Russia and China and their increasingly potent force of global Internet allies remain challenged by Western actors, such as the United States, who benefit from institutionalised power and market-dominating private technology companies.

Bilateral and multilateral cooperation in this area has been prolific as powerful states seek to gain Internet allies who may represent their interests at the global negotiating table. This includes the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation, an alliance originally designed to combat terrorism but has since ushered its eight members, hailing from South and Central Asia, toward strategies and norms that speak to the threat that information poses to national security and stability. Other occurrences of inter-group cooperation are reflected through signatures on UN resolutions by band-wagoning states, including by developing states in Latin America, Africa and Asia, as well as collaborations on global Internet conferences.

China and Russia: Messiahs of Internet Sovereignty

These states serve as beacons of hope for national jurisdiction over the digital space, serving up bold cybersecurity policies and strategies. With landmark policies like the Golden Shield and the Great Firewall, and technology giants like Huawei and Alibaba, China has become a leader of technological prosperity. Russia has created similarly robust Internet policies in addition to several market-dominating technology companies including Yandex and Kaspersky Lab. This has given the Russian state the capacity to expel Western technology companies, bolster the national economy, and monopolise national identity creation through social media censorship.

Chinese policies of filtering and censoring content reflect the ideals of state control over national identity, information access, dissent and mobilisation, and emerging technologies. China’s investment in the telecommunications sectors of East African states (linked with their adoption of Chinese-inspired censorious cybersecurity policies) and policy leadership in the SCO and BRICS partnerships reflect the state’s efforts to “promote [their views] as the basic principles for structuring international relations and regimes on a global level.”

In 2015, China and Russia formalised their bilateral cybersecurity relations with the Agreement on International Information Security Cooperation. Russia has also forged formal cybersecurity ties with less advanced emerging economies, such as Southeast Asia through an emerging agreement with ASEAN and existing cybersecurity collaboration with the Philippines. In addition, Russia has used the Collective Security Treaty Organisation, an alliance comprised of former Soviet satellite states, as a tool to consolidate a collective cybersecurity strategy. By combatting Western technological dominance, both materially and normatively, Russia and China can expand their own industries, retain control over their population, and spread non-Western ideals among states who may, in turn, provide support to them in international fora.

Implications and Conclusion

A global Internet governance regime ruled by IS ideals, whether it be a codified UN agreement or more informal norms and practices, would not mirror the hierarchical structure of traditional governance bodies: instead, it would create no order of power at all, with each individual state executing autonomy over Internet activity within its borders. This sort of agreement may also impact how cybersecurity development programs are funded, with resistance from China and Russia for developing states to receive development aid from the West.

Such a collaborative agreement may also struggle to set human rights and transparency norms. By granting states autonomy in this arena, it would relinquish authority over domestic consequences of Internet policies. This would leave states with a pre-modern degree of sovereignty, allowing them to steer the Internet toward or away from state-based information and knowledge control, political mobilisation, and national identity creation. Russia and China’s efforts toward Internet sovereignty norms will persist as they advance their interests of building a strong anti-West alliance. As they grow as economic powers, their efforts to integrate Westphalian values of sovereignty into international institutions will grow in tandem, threatening liberal ideals of globalisation.

So far, the transnational agreements that have been proposed, amended, and rejected have encountered fragmentation, ambiguity, and logistically-weak imperatives. The economic and infrastructural disparities between states, the struggle for policy to outpace technological advances, the role of private stakeholders that uphold the industry, and the logistical impracticalities of enforcing Internet policies have all stifled ventures toward global cooperation. In addition to resolving these issues, states must realistically engage in compromise to construct a functional regime.

Eve Gleeson is a master’s student in International Relations at the Department of War Studies, King’s College London, as well as the Communications Manager of Strife and a security analyst at AMC Solutions. Her research focuses on technology governance, cybersecurity of critical systems, and socio-technical theory. Eve holds a BA in International Studies with a focus on conflict and security from Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia, USA. You can find her on LinkedIn and on Twitter @evegleeson_.

Volodymyr Zelenskiy and the Donbas Conflict in Ukraine

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by Daria Platonova

5 June 2019

Volodymyr Oleksandrovych Zelenskiy was elected President of Ukraine in May 2019 (The National Interest)

Volodymyr Zelenskiy’s[1] election to the presidency in Ukraine[2] has taken everyone by surprise. A former comedy actor and producer, Zelenskiy is widely seen as someone “outside the system,” despite having connections to the Ukrainian oligarchs. In the few interviews that he granted prior to the election, he acknowledged that the conflict in the Donbas is the most serious problem facing Ukraine. In this article, I discuss Zelenskiy’s views on how to resolve the conflict and his options.

During the presidential campaign, Zelenskiy appealed to the softer, compassionate side of his voters and detractors by saying that he did not want Ukrainians to continue dying in the Donbas, therefore a ceasefire and the return of all prisoners of war to Ukraine is essential. In the televised debate with the outgoing President Petro Poroshenko on 19 April 2019, he blamed Poroshenko for the massive loss of life in Iloviask (August 2014) and Debaltseve (February 2015), when the Ukrainian forces were repulsed by the separatist and Russian state forces. In his inauguration speech on 20 May, Zelenskiy reiterated these ideas. It can be argued that this appeal to the “war weariness” of Ukrainians has won Zelenskiy so many votes, especially in the east.

In relation to more concrete proposals, Zelenskiy’s position has been  more vague. Contrary to the political premise of the Minsk Agreements, Zelenskiy has ruled out an autonomous status for the separatist republics within Ukraine. He argues that Ukraine should re-establish its sovereignty over the entire territory of the Donbas and Crimea, he supports the idea of a peacekeeping force in the Donbas, and proposes “reformatting” the Minsk Agreements, which presupposes the inclusion of the US and Great Britain in the negotiations. To Ukrainian commentators, these proposals are not radically different from those made by the previous administration. Moreover, they are somewhat contradictory, in that, on one hand, Zelenskiy wants a dialogue with Russia and the separatists and, on the other, he wants to “fight until the end” to regain what belongs to Ukraine.

Several developments have taken place since Zelenskiy’s victory. His stance towards Russia has somewhat hardened. For example, he reacted vitriolically towards Vladimir Putin’s decree to simplify the issuance of Russian passports to the residents of separatist-controlled parts of Ukraine, pointing out flaws in the current Russian regime. As of now, he refuses to launch direct talks with Russia. At the same time, it is significant that, despite the pressure from international representatives, such as the US Special Representative in Ukraine Kurt Volker, Zelenskiy has not spoken of complete disarmament and elimination of the local separatist administrations in Donetsk and Luhansk People’s Republics. He however continues to believe that the separatists are “not independent actors”.

When considering Zelenskiy’s options as to resolving the conflict, we must take into account that, despite the seeming simplicity of how the conflict has been reported (low-intensity fighting, both Russia and Ukraine alternately depicted as aggressors and fighters for sovereignty/freedom), the developments in and around the conflict zones have reached an unprecedented complexity. The rebellious republics have amassed significant resources – even if many are imported from Russia, especially military hardware – and demonstrated considerable legislative and state-building capacity. They are now deeply entrenched, while the republics’ people are not at all eager to be integrated back into Ukraine.[3] The republics’ leaders are highly sceptical about Zelenskiy’s proposals. If we recall the situation back in May 2014 when “launching a direct dialogue with the separatists” was one of Poroshenko’s campaign promises, and he failed to follow it through, even if the nascent break away states were still in their infancy and their military capacity was small, we can expect that  Zelenskiy is unlikely to suddenly start talking to the separatists directly.

Secondly, the understanding of how to follow the Minsk Agreements and whether they actually work differs between Russia and Ukraine. One suspects that both sides misinterpret the agreements deliberately because they see to take advantage of the current situation and promote their own agendas. All these years, Russia has kept insisting – as do the separatist leaders – that Ukraine must stop its “punitive operation,” in the Donbas and grant it a special status within Ukraine. This is Russia’s main objective. Ukraine insists that Russia must stop supporting the republics militarily and free the territories of the Donbas. Amid the flurry of diplomatic talks at many levels along these lines, both sides continue attacking each other positions and people continue to die. It seems that, for Ukraine under Poroshenko, the Donbas conflict turned into an opportunity to build a powerful military force and disassociate itself from Russia completely. Therefore, the separatists had a point when they argued that Poroshenko sought to use the conflict to “salvage his regime”. For Russia, the Donbas is a military and state-building project, a testing ground for new military technology and an attempt to exert its influence on the politics in Ukraine. Ukrainians therefore are right when they say that Putin is using the conflict to keep up his regime.

Zelenskiy therefore is likely to continue relying on diplomatic talks. Perhaps, he would be less insistent on the major international players’ roles in resolving the conflict as Poroshenko was. Zelenskiy’s most recent decision to put the conflict resolution to an all-Ukrainian referendum indicates a move in this direction. In line with the “human side” of his campaign promises, he would try to contain the violence in the conflict zone and avoid a full-fledged war with Russia. When Poroshenko became president in 2014, straight after his victory, the most vicious fighting followed in Donetsk Airport. According to some reports, Poroshenko ordered an offensive aimed at retaking the airport, even before he was sworn. He then was caught up in the unenviable cycle of “action-response,” as the separatists built their armies and Russia provided them with support. Zelenskiy is much luckier in this respect in that no significant fighting followed his victory. He is therefore unlikely to suddenly ramp up the military effort in the Donbas.

Daria is a PhD student at King’s College London. Her research focuses on the political protests and conflict in eastern Ukraine, 2013 – 2014. She led one of the Causes of War seminars in the War Studies Department in 2017. Prior to joining King’s, she worked as a teacher. She graduated with a degree in History from the University of Cambridge in 2011. Her broader interests include European history, war studies, and interdisciplinary methods.

[1] The spelling is consistent with the English spelling as it appears in Kyiv Post, the major English-language news and opinion outlet in Ukraine.

[2] Zelenskiy won a landslide victory across the majority of Ukrainian regions, except in Lviv in the West of Ukraine, with 73.22% of the vote. Petro Poroshenko won 24.45%.

[3] See also comments on Vkontakte social media pages and my sporadic conversations with some people from Donetsk online.

Feature — Winning the Disinformation War Against the West

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By Andrzej Kozłowski

13 May 2019

The Ministry of Defence badge on a computer chip. Britain will build a dedicated capability to counter-attack in cyberspace and, if necessary, to strike in cyberspace. (Crown Copyright/Chris Roberts)

The rapid expansion of the Internet in the nineties encouraged the expectation among Western politicians and experts that liberal democracy would come to dominate the world and authoritarian regimes would slowly collapse. It was hoped that the easy and fast access to uncensored information would strengthen civil society and opposition in authoritarian countries by empowering a free press, facilitating the planning and organisation of social and revolutionary movements which would overwhelm the  ruling governments. However, things took a different trajectory and Internet tools such as social media have become a double-edged sword, effectively being employed against democratic countries to wreak information havoc and spread propaganda to undermine democratic processes.

A more serious problem than we think

The key event which demonstrated the power of social media, was the presidential election in the United States in 2016, when Russian hackers from the Main Directorate of the General Staff of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation (GRU) and the Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation (FSB), along with trolls from the Internet Research Agency, engaged in a disinformation campaign to influence the outcome of the election. Their main aim and the impact on  Trump’s  victory are  disputed. However, this incident showed the importance of the Internet and social media and how easily public opinion can be manipulated by the newest technologies. Since that moment, policymakers and chiefs of intelligence and counterintelligence of NATO and EU countries have warned about the potential threat of external meddling in other elections in the West. Indeed, Russia attempted to meddle in the elections in France, the Netherlands and Germany but did not achieve an outcome comparable to the American presidential election of 2016.

Not only has  disinformation been used to influence election processes, it has also been deployed to split societies by drawing attention to the most controversial cases. The waves of immigrants, which came to Europe in recent years, have divided societies of Western countries. This division has been strengthened by the fake stories of grave crimes committed by  immigrants. A lot of people believed in them and were upset by this immigrant behaviour, leading some towards feelings of vengeance. Here, disinformation contributed to the violent acts against immigrants but also increased distrust in  the mainstream media and towards politicians who seem to have overlooked these events. Social media were also used to influence voter behaviour in important referendums like the one in Spain and the United Kingdom, supporting Brexit and the secessionist movement in Catalonia.

Last but not least, the anti-vaccination movement, strongly present on social media, poses a threat for the lives of citizens in the West. As a result, illnesses like measles, which had formerly been eliminated by vaccines, have reemerged. The latest research shows that this movement was not spontaneous  but rather  state-inspired and strongly promoted on the Internet.

Western institutions have identified Russia as the perpetrator of these campaigns, but facing up to the problem of disinformation has become one of the most crucial challenges.  However, there is a high probability that other countries could follow or have already followed in Russia’s footsteps. The West needs to prepare by building a resilient society resistant to disinformation and propaganda and ready to deter potential foes.

Front page of European Commission’s “Final Report of the High Level Expert Group on Fake News and Online Disinformation” (European Commission)

Building an information-resilient society

Building an information-resilient society requires the close cooperation of four main entities: the government, civil society, social media platform owners, and the traditional media.

Governments

Despite the growing role of the private sector in cyberspace, the government ought to play a crucial role in initiating and coordinating actions that counter disinformation. First and foremost, the government needs to engage with professionals in combating this phenomenon. Think tanks and non-profit organisations cannot resist information and psychological operations orchestrated by the professionals from secret services due to their lack of financial sources, access to sensitive information, advanced systems of early warning and a sufficient staff size. However, some of these abilities and tools are in the hands of the counterintelligence agencies, which ought to assist such think tanks.

Moreover, the government needs to dominate the information sphere before elections and referendums. The constant warnings about the potential interference and manipulation of public opinion ought to come from the heads of intelligence and counterintelligence. Some may claim that spreading panic would be counterintuitive. Yet embedding a form of vigilance and awareness similar to that which occurs on, say, April Fool’s Day, about potential disinformation is crucial and can strip potential assailants from their biggest advantage: surprise. The cases of France and Germany are particularly telling. Before the elections in both countries, politicians and secret service officers warned about potential manipulations, which during the elections themselves were restrained to a minimum.

The government also ought to prepare  a clear legal framework to help social media bigwigs eliminate detrimental content from their platforms. These laws ought to be effective and feasible but also remain adaptable to technological reality and transparent in order to avoid accusations of political bias. Internet-users ought to be aware that they  can be penalised for  inappropriate behaviour and not for political views.

The next task of the government is to prepare politicians and administrative staff for possible disinformation campaigns. It should be done on two levels: by organising training and practice for politicians and civil servants on how to recognize disinformation on the Internet, and by ensuring that political parties are prepared, especially during election campaigns.

Governments  should also not hesitate to ban certain media from attending official press conferences if it has been established that these media act as propaganda instruments . For example, during the election in France, the French government’s administration of Emmanuel Macron banned the Sputnik and Russia Today journalists, limiting the freedom the media to spread disinformation.

The social media enterprises

Social media are used as tools to spread disinformation and influence democratic processes in many countries. It has become a significant problem for their executives, especially for Twitter and Facebook. Particularly after the 2016 presidential election in the United States both companies were under considerable public criticism. In response, they heavily invested in eliminating fake content and accounts responsible for spreading disinformation. This policy should be continued in close cooperation with government entities, which should help by identifying hostile accounts. However, the decisions made by social media enterprises should be clearly explained to avoid accusation of censorship.

Civil Society

The role of non-profit organizations cannot be underestimated, but they ought not play a  central role in fighting disinformation. Instead, they ought to help government and social media enterprises identify propaganda and fake content but their role ought to remain advisory. Such organisations could effectively set up educational campaigns, teaching citizens how to avoid disinformation by fact-checking news and content on the Internet.

The Media

In the past, traditional media played the role of gatekeepers by filtering the flow of information and eliminating fake news. Currently, in the era of social media and direct access to information, this role has changed. However, traditional media still has a role to play. They ought to create special roles  in the editorial team to trace fake news and stories and reveal it to the public. It would give them back the role of modern gatekeepers in the new era of  social media. Furthermore, journalists are among the most popular persons on Twitter and Facebook and are often a source of news and information. If journalists spread fake news intentionally or unintentionally, this fake news becomes more and more reliable. Therefore media should organize special courses and training to  raise awareness among journalists about appropriately sourcing information.

Last but not the least, the government needs to coordinate the efforts of all entities engaged in fighting disinformation. If the government fails  in this role, the system will not work as one cohesive entity, but there  will be a constellation of single, loosely related entities with overlapping tasks and lack of resources.

Creating effective and reliable deterrence

Building a society resistant to disinformation is a part of an effective strategy to fight disinformation. The remaining task is to deter potential agents of disinformation by establishing punishments. These penalties ought not be limited to cyberspace, but may also consider other measures, such as economic sanctions. In most cases, it is difficult to respond to these agents of disinformation by proportional information campaign. The obstacle lies in the authoritarian nature of the aggressor.

Because the election process in authoritarian states serves as a mere formality where public opinion and society cannot be effectively influenced, approaching aggressors with economic sanctions might be more effective in deterring such actions. However, even considering the authoritarian nature of the regime, online activity ought to be considered. The possible options could include demonstrating to the home population the inherently corrupt nature of the regime, under which the average citizen lives under inadequate conditions. The next potential strategy refers to the example of “The Union of the Committees of Soldiers’ Mothers of Russia”, a former Soviet organisation that influenced the attitudes of Soviet-Russian society towards the Afghan world. A similar scenario could be used to reveal the number of troops killed in the wars in Syria or in the Ukraine. Thirdly, it is a good idea to create the Russian version of Wikileaks service, that would deliver materials compromising the Russian materials and put them on the a bulletproof website.

Economic sanctions are another powerful tool that can be used by the West. Such sanctions have been surprisingly effective against Russia. Freezing oligarchs’ assets or introducing travel bans can hurt  the closest circle of Moscow’s cronies and stop them from visiting their luxurious residences in Western Europe.

The next powerful  tool of punishing Russia for its aggressive behaviour in this domain would be to expel Russian diplomats from Western countries. At first glance, it may look like the standard  retaliation in the international arena. Considering the fact that in some countries like the UK, half of the Russian embassy staff  worked for the Russian intelligence services, expelling Russian diplomats could effectively paralyse the work of the Russian intelligence network.

Every kind of Russian interference in the Western infosphere should be met  with one of  these effective measures  Such measures would also deter any other country from following Russia. The West needs to demonstrate the willingness and determination to punish agents of disinformation, who have tried to infiltrate its own Internet sphere.

Conclusion and recommendations

The key to win the disinformation war is, first and foremost, to treat it as an existential threat perceived as a strategic priority. Thus significant financial resources need to be invested to counter this problem. Success is determined by the resilience of society and reliable forms of deterrence. Both require effective cooperation among the government, traditional media, social media enterprises and civil society; professional government agencies should be included in fighting against disinformation.

Effective cooperation among these entities allows us to create a warning system, which is crucial because opponents benefit from the element of surprise. Therefore, every user of the Internet, from government clerks to journalists, has to be educated to raise awareness of information threats. There should be a transparent legal framework, which helps to eliminate the disinformation from the public sphere without being accused of political bias. However, building a resilient society is not enough– forms of deterrence are also required. Such deterrence consists of a variety of measures, extended beyond the information sphere.

Flagging certain media outlets as propaganda instruments and banning their journalists from attending press conferences is the next step.

Dr Andrzej Kozłowski is the editor-in-chief of CyberDefence24.pl, the biggest portal on cyber security and information warfare in Poland. Alongside with his work as a journalist, he is a lecturer at the University of Lodz, Collegium Civitas in Warsaw and European Academy of Diplomacy (EAD). In 2016, Dr Kozłowski successfully defended his PhD dissertation entitled: “The Security Policy of the United States in Cyberspace (1993-2012). Comparative Analysis”.  He is an expert at several Polish think-tanks such as The Institute of Security and Strategy Foundation, Warsaw Institute For Strategic Initiatives  and  The Casimir Pulaski Foundation.

Image source: Flickr