By Eric Vandenbroeck
and co-workers
Kennan On Ukraine
George Kennan, the
remarkable U.S. diplomat and probing observer of international relations, is
famous for forecasting the collapse of the Soviet Union. His warning in 1948
that no Russian government would ever accept Ukrainian independence is less
well known. Foreseeing a deadlocked struggle between Moscow and Kyiv, Kennan
made detailed suggestions about how Washington should deal with a conflict that
pitted an independent Ukraine against Russia. He returned to this subject half
a century later. Kennan, then in his 90s, cautioned that the eastward expansion
of NATO would doom democracy in Russia and ignite another Cold War.
Kennan probably knew
Russia more intimately than anyone who ever served in the U.S. government.
Before arriving in Moscow in 1933 as a 29-year-old aide to the first U.S.
ambassador to the Soviet Union, he had mastered Russian and could pass as a
native. In Russia, Kennan immersed himself in newspapers, official documents,
literature, radio, theater, and film. He wore himself thin, partying into the
night with Russian artists, intellectuals, and junior officials. Dressed like a
Russian, Kennan eavesdropped on Muscovites in the streetcar or at the theater.
He hiked or skied into the countryside to visit gems of early Russian
architecture. His disdain for Joseph Stalin’s dictatorship, particularly after
the onset of the bloody purges of 1935–38, was matched only by his desire to
get close to the Russian people and their culture. In 1946, after dictating his
famed long telegram to the State Department warning of the Soviet threat,
Kennan was brought back to Washington. The following year, he won national
attention for calling for the containment of Soviet expansion.
Kennan was unique.
When Assistant Secretary of State Dean Acheson told a colleague that
the gifted diplomat was slated to head the newly formed Policy Planning Staff,
the colleague replied, "a man like Kennan would be excellent for that
job.” Acheson snapped back: “A man like Kennan?
There’s nobody like
Kennan.” Operating from an office next door to the secretary of state, Kennan
helped craft the Marshall Plan and other major midcentury
initiatives. Kennan’s star would dim after 1949 as he opposed the growing
militarization of U.S. foreign policy, but he was still venerated as a Russian
expert. His advice was sought by the Truman administration when it feared
provoking Russia’s entry into the Korean War, the Eisenhower administration
after the death of Stalin, and the Kennedy administration during the Berlin
crisis of 1961. Despite his televised opposition to the Vietnam War and his
protests against the nuclear arms race, Kennan was consulted by officials in
the State Department and the CIA well into the 1990s. In 2003, he held a press
conference to protest the invasion of Iraq. An elitist blinkered by ugly
prejudices that he had absorbed in the early twentieth century, Kennan remained
a clear-sighted foreign policy analyst until he died in 2005.
In light of this
expertise, it is worth examining Kennan’s skepticism about Ukrainian
independence and his suggestion of how Washington should respond to a Russian
attack on an independent Ukraine.
In a policy paper
titled “U.S. Objectives with Respect to Russia” completed in August 1948,
Kennan laid out the United States’ ultimate aims if the Russians invaded
Ukraine. He realized that Ukrainians “resented Russian domination, and their
nationalistic organizations have been active and vocal abroad.” It would,
therefore, “be easy to jump to the conclusion” that Ukraine should be
independent. He asserted that the United States should not encourage that
separation.
Kennan’s assessment
grossly underestimated Ukrainians’ will for self-determination. Nevertheless,
two problems identified by Kennan three-quarters of a century ago have
persisted, particularly in the minds of Russian leaders. Kennan doubted that
Russians and Ukrainians could be easily distinguished in ethnic terms. In a
State Department memo, he wrote that “there is no clear dividing line between
Russia and Ukraine, and it would be impossible to establish one.” Second,
the Russian and Ukrainian economies were intertwined. Setting up an independent
Ukraine “would be as artificial and as destructive as an attempt to separate
the Corn Belt, including the Great Lakes industrial area, from the economy of
the United States.”
Since 1991,
Ukrainians have struggled to establish a territorial and ethnic dividing line
while forging economic independence from the Russian behemoth. Moscow has
undermined these efforts by encouraging discontent in the eastern
Russian-speaking regions of Ukraine, fomenting independence movements, and
officially annexing four breakaway regions. With years of political and
economic pressure and now with military brutality, Russia has tried to thwart
Ukraine’s economic independence by disrupting its gas pipelines, grain exports,
and shipping.
Even at the height of
the Cold War, Kennan insisted that “we cannot be indifferent to the
feelings of the Great Russians themselves.” Because the Russians would remain
the “strongest national element” in the area, viable “long-term U.S. policy
must be based on their acceptance and cooperation.”
Again, Kennan likened
the Russian view of Ukraine to the American idea of the Midwest. In the last
analysis, a separate, independent Ukraine could “be maintained only by force.”
For all these reasons, a hypothetical triumphant United States should not seek
to impose Ukrainian independence on a prostrate Russia.
Should the Ukrainians
achieve independence independently, Kennan advised the State Department
Washington should not interfere initially. It was nearly inevitable, however,
that an independent Ukraine would be “challenged eventually from the Russian
side.” If, in that conflict, “an undesirable deadlock was developing,” the
United States should push for “a composing of the differences along the lines
of a reasonable federalism.”
Notwithstanding the
vicissitudes of the last 75 years, Kennan’s advice remains relevant today. A
federation allowing for regional autonomy in eastern Ukraine and perhaps even
in Crimea could help both sides coexist. Many analysts tend to portray the
current conflict as “Putin’s war,” but Kennan believed that almost any strong
Russian leader would eventually push back against the total separation of
Ukraine. Finally, the realities of demography and geography dictate that
Russia, in the long run, will remain the principal power in these often tragic
“bloodlands.” For the sake of regional
stability and long-term U.S. security, Washington needs to sustain a
hardheaded, clear-eyed empathy for the interests of the Russians, the
Ukrainians, and other nationalities.
Unlike Kennan, many
Kremlinologists did not see the collapse of the Soviet Union coming. He was
hailed as a prophet at the end of the Cold War. Nonetheless, he was honored
rather than heeded in the ensuing debate over NATO expansion. This paradox was
illustrated in 1995, when U.S. President Bill Clinton’s adviser on
Russian affairs, Strobe Talbott, sought to pay homage to Kennan, whom he deeply
admired. Talbott invited Kennan to fly with the president to Moscow for the
50th anniversary of Victory in Europe Day on May 9, commemorating Nazi
Germany’s surrender. In 1945, Kennan, the ranking U.S. official in Moscow, had
warmly greeted the cheering Russians thronging the embassy. Now, however, the
91-year-old declined the invitation because of ill health. His refusal to go
was probably for the best.
Kennan likely would
have felt used had he learned of the full agenda for the trip. In a memorandum
to Clinton, Talbott characterized the day after the anniversary festivities as
“May 10: Moment of Truth.” In his meeting with Russian President Boris Yeltsin,
Clinton did as Talbott suggested and pressured the Russians to accept both
NATO’s expansion and Moscow’s participation in the Partnership for Peace, an
association best understood as “NATO-lite” that was crafted to soothe Russian
concerns. Talbott admitted to Clinton that “virtually all major players in
Russia, all across the political spectrum, are either deeply opposed to, or at
least deeply worried about, NATO expansion.”
By 1997, Kennan was
further alarmed by Washington’s decision to have NATO admit not only the
Czech Republic, Hungary, and Poland but also initiate military and naval
cooperation with Ukraine. The redrawn line dividing east from the west was
compelling Ukraine and other nations to choose sides. “Nowhere does this choice
appear more portentous and pregnant with fateful consequences than in the case
of Ukraine,” Kennan warned Talbott in a private letter.
He particularly
worried about Sea Breeze, a joint Ukrainian-NATO naval exercise that defied Russia’s
traditional insecurity about foreign warships in the narrow waters of the Black
Sea. Although invited to participate in the exercise, Russia had angrily
declined. The ongoing dispute between Kyiv and Moscow over the Sevastopol naval
base in Crimea added to the tension. Kennan asked Talbott whether this naval
exercise fit with Washington’s effort “to persuade Russia that the extension of
the NATO borders toward the Russian frontier in Eastern Europe has no immediate
military connotations?”
Although respectful
of Kennan’s doubts, Talbott held firm. He assumed that the economic prostration
of Russia meant that it would have to accommodate itself to Western ways.
“Russia will have to break out of a deeply ingrained habit of thinking and
behavior,” Talbott wrote to Kennan, seeking to cooperate with rather than
dominate its neighbors. Russia had to do the adjusting and accept U.S. power on
its borders. The Clinton administration intended “not to stop cooperating with
Ukraine but to redouble our efforts to engage Russia.”
Next to Talbott’s
reference to “planning exercises this year in Central Asia as well as the
Baltic region,” the exasperated 93-year-old Kennan penned two exclamation
marks. Moscow again refused to participate in these Western–led military
exercises in areas under its control only a few years earlier.
Predictions often get
it woefully wrong. Kennan underestimated the intensity of Ukrainian
nationalism. But his prognostications in 1948 about Russian stubbornness in
Ukraine and his warnings in the 1990s about American insensitivity and ambition
ring true today. His suggestion of some federal structure and regional autonomy
in disputed areas remains promising, albeit increasingly challenging to
implement.
The overriding issue
here is what the Yale historian Paul Kennedy called the imperial overstretch.
In World War II, Kennan endured long flights in icy cargo planes hopscotching
across the Atlantic by reading Edward Gibbon on how the Roman Empire declined
and fell. Kennan was skeptical about the long-run viability of even the
mightiest countries maintaining military forces far from home. As a result, he
underrated the stabilizing effect of U.S. troops stationed in Western Europe during
the Cold War.
Since the Cold War,
however, the United States military frontier has advanced much further
eastward. Regardless of how Russia’s brutal war in Ukraine ends, the
United States has committed itself to sustain a robust military presence on Russia’s
doorstep. If alive today, Kennan would note the danger of cornering the
Russians to the point where they might lash out. He would also gesture toward
the United States' multiple problems at home and wonder how this exposed
presence in Eastern Europe accorded with the American people's long-term
foreign and domestic interests.
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