Military cooperation between the two countries has blossomed as well. In the 1990s, the Russian government, seeking to capitalize on the lucrative remnants of Soviet militarism amid turbulent post–Cold War economic times, sold many high-tech arms to China. By 1997, close to half of Russia’s foreign military sales (approximately $2 billion a year) went to China. 40By the early 2000s, that figure had grown to $4 billion annually under a five-year plan negotiated by Moscow and Beijing. In the process, Moscow, in the words of one analyst, became “Beijing’s ‘logistics base.’” 41
Bilateral trade has risen dramatically. Throughout the 1990s, Moscow and Beijing enjoyed strong political ties, but weak economic ones, averaging between $5 and $7 billion annually as a result of Russia’s post-Soviet political instability. 42But the 2000s saw a massive surge in economic cooperation between the two countries. By 2011, trade had rocketed to $83.5 billion a year. 43
And Russian and Chinese officials are seeking still more growth; at their summer 2012 summit, Russian president Vladimir Putin and his Chinese counterpart, Hu Jintao, codified the ambitious goal of more than doubling trade—to $200 billion annually—by the end of the decade. 44
This cooperation is not without its detractors. A decade ago, Russian nationalists such as the late General Alexandr Lebed pointedly warned that their government’s policy of high-tech sales to China could lead to a growing strategic imbalance between the two—one that would put Moscow at a profound disadvantage if it and Beijing ever ended up going to war. 45
Nevertheless, the long-standing consensus in Moscow remains that strategic cooperation with China serves a concrete, and financially rewarding, purpose. And because it does, the future of strategic ties between Moscow and Beijing is bright—or so it would seem.
. . . BUT COMPETITION LATER
Yet for all of the fanfare that has accompanied the Sino-Russian strategic partnership in recent years, there is a clear sense that today’s era of bilateral cooperation will not last. China, after all, is a rising power, in both economic and political terms. Russia, by contrast, is declining, Kremlin dreams of an economic resurgence in Asia notwithstanding. 46Given this dynamic, the lure of an empty, resource-rich territorial expanse on its borders could well prove irresistible to the PRC in the not-too-distant future.
Russian officials understand this very well. Even if they tend not to say so publicly, fears of Chinese encroachment are never far from the minds of Russia’s elites. Thus, Sergei Karaganov of Russia’s Council on Foreign and Defense Policy warned recently that the Russian Far East could “turn into an appendage of China” unless Moscow gets serious about reversing the PRC’s advance on its eastern periphery. 47Russia’s leadership thinks much the same. In the summer of 2012, Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev himself warned about the need to protect the Far East against “excessive expansion by bordering states”—a clear reference to China’s growing clout in the area. 48
The Russian government is doing what it can to prevent—or at least delay—this encroachment. In the spring of 2012, a national development paper entitled Strategy 2020prepared for Vladimir Putin’s return to the presidency focused for the first time on the need to counterbalance China economically. 49Shortly thereafter, in May 2012, the Kremlin authorized the establishment of a dedicated ministry to oversee development of the Far East. 50That ministry, established by presidential decree and headed by Victor Ishayev, the Kremlin’s special envoy for the development of the Far East, is a long overdue sign of seriousness on the part of the Russian government about the need for major, sustained economic and political attention to its distant eastern periphery.
But it faces an uphill battle. Chinese investments in Russia’s Far East far outpace those of the Russian government and are likely to do so for the foreseeable future. So do demographic trends, which clearly favor a rising (and resource-hungry) China over a declining Russia.
Given these realities, the Kremlin has begun to plan for the worst. In June 2010, Russia’s defense ministry launched “Vostok-2010,” a massive war game in the Far East and Siberia. The weeklong drills, which involved some twenty thousand soldiers from Russia’s army, navy, air force, and special WMD detachments, were unprecedented in their scope and aimed at ensuring what military officials termed, generically, “the security of national interests of the state in the Far East.” 51Some observers, however, had a more somber reading of the drills and the motivations behind them. “Russia is conducting these operations to reassure itself it can still control these sparsely populated regions,” respected Russian military analyst Alexander Golts told reporters at the time. 52
Vostok-2010 was just the beginning. In the three years since, Russia has significantly beefed up its military presence and command structure in the Far East under the banner of military reforms. The Russian military’s Eastern Command, headquartered in Khabarovsk, now controls the country’s Pacific Fleet, the Far East, and most of Siberia, making it a veritable beachhead against potential Chinese incursion. 53It has also deployed advanced military hardware, including units of its advanced S-400 air defense system, to the Far East. 54
The implications are clear. For all of its public praise of the Sino-Russian partnership, Moscow sees its future with Beijing as one of competition and not cooperation. The Far East will be the front line of this future conflict, with Russia’s territorial integrity and its natural resource wealth the ultimate prize. Those are high stakes indeed.
CHAPTER SIX
PUTIN’S CRUMBLING STATE
Fifteen years after he strode onto the Russian national scene, Vladimir Putin is beginning to show signs of weakening power. Although he handily won reelection to the Russian presidency in March 2012, switching places with his handpicked protégé Dmitry Medvedev (who assumed the post of prime minister), Putin now finds himself facing eroding popularity and a mounting sense of political siege.
The numbers tell the story. A February 2013 poll by the Levada Center in Moscow found that only 32 percent of Russians would vote for Putin if elections were held today—a drop of nearly ten percentage points from June 2012. 1Over the same period, the number of those who would choose not to vote at all rose to nearly a quarter of all respondents.
Putin’s plunging popularity is easily explained. Dmitry Medvedev’s presidency (2008–2012), during which time Putin served as prime minister, was viewed with optimism by some in Moscow (and more than a few in the West). That hope was misplaced because, despite his dulcet tones and talk of reform, Medvedev made few tangible alterations to Russia’s political direction. This stasis culminated with Putin’s preordained return to the presidency in March 2012—a development that sparked widespread disaffection and mass protests throughout that year. 2
In a democracy, such political numbers would be fatal to a president’s political future. Even in authoritarian Russia, they are deeply worrying to the Russian president and his coterie. As a result, the Kremlin has launched a number of initiatives to tighten its grip on power, even as it attempts to project the image of a more pluralistic and accountable polity.