Hard power in the Caucasus

Russia's willingness to break the so-called international rules of territorial integrity is less a c

For many so-called international affairs experts, Russia's recent invasion of Georgia marked a spectacular return to great power politics. A resurgent and deadly serious Russia, the argument goes, shocked the Western world into a 21st century reality that would mirror that of the 19th. The age of soft power ended on 8 August, 2008.

But, for those of us who have been long-time Caucasus watchers, soft power was never all that relevant.

Since NATO's surrender of initiative to Russia at this past April's Alliance summit in Bucharest, Moscow had stepped up its not-so-subtle jabbing of Georgia in the side through its two breakaway territories of Abkhazia and South Ossetia.

Before August, Russian fighters had already shot down Georgian reconnaissance drones, Russian bombers had already dropped warning munitions in Georgia proper, and Russian peacekeepers had already established a 15 year record of aiding separatist militias against Georgia.

An outright invasion was a surprise, but not a paradigm-shifting shock. More unexpected, however, was Russian President Medvedev's swift recognition of the breakaway territories as independent states. High-profile Russian Duma and Federation Council deputies had been calling for the move for years, so the unanimous votes in both houses of Russia's parliament were just one more small, populist step. But, few regional experts would have predicted a Kremlin endorsement, much less one the very next day.

Until now, the argument had been that while bombastic parliamentarians might threaten recognition to punish upstart Georgia on purely emotional grounds, the cool-headed Kremlin would resist the Pandora's box of officially sanctioning separatism and armed rebellion in the volatile Caucasus.

Moscow is still grappling with the remnants of two wars in Chechnya – just north of Georgia's South Ossetia – in which Russia risked international condemnation to crush separatist rebellions through campaigns of extermination that rivaled anything witnessed in the former Yugoslavia. With more than 160 distinct ethnic groups, Russia's vast expanse is a checkerboard just waiting to be riven by self-determination.

Paradoxically, however, it seems that Moscow's fury over the recognition of another breakaway territory: Kosovo, now firmly within the geopolitical bounds of NATO and the European Union, added fuel to the fire that finally lead to Russian tank columns streaming into Georgian territory. That is not to say that the West was wrong in recognizing Kosovo's independence. But, it is to say that Washington, London and other European capitals should have taken Moscow's threats seriously when it specifically mentioned recognition of Abkhazia and South Ossetia as retaliation for the move.

That lesson, the realisation that Russian leaders are serious when they threaten redirected nuclear targeting on the EU in response to US missile defense plans in Central Europe, that they are keenly intent on blocking Western access to the alternative energy resources of the Caspian, that they actively seek to carve out a sphere of influence to dominate EU-aspirant Ukraine and Georgia, is a valuable one.

It is a lesson that underscores the importance of Western preparation in the face of Moscow's distribution of passports in Ukraine's majority ethnic-Russian Crimean peninsula – the primary facilitating logic behind the Kremlin's claims to be protecting Russian citizens in South Ossetia.

Great power politics has not made a comeback. It was always the modus operandi on Europe's periphery. Not so far away places like Moldova, Armenia and Azerbaijan see the hard power of armed conflict every day. Were it not for the NATO military umbrella over the rest of the continent, Western Europe would not be immune to similar Metternichian machinations. And, it is for this reason that Russia's recognition of Abkhazia and South Ossetia should be seen for what it is: preparation for annexation of internationally-recognized Georgian territory to the Russian Federation.

Russia's willingness to break the so-called international rules of territorial integrity enshrined in post-1945 institutions is less a challenge to the ideas and ideals of those institutions and more a threat to the military and political frameworks that underpin them. In other words, Russia is challenging NATO, the EU, the UN Security Council and the might of the United States that keeps them afloat. Experts may point to the folly of such a decision, but it is in line with Russian actions on the Eurasian landmass since time immemorial.

Alexandros Petersen is Southeast Europe Policy Scholar at the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars and Adjunct Fellow with the Russia and Eurasia Program at the Center for Strategic and International Studies, Washington

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The French millennials marching behind Marine Le Pen

A Front National rally attracts former socialists with manicured beards, and a lesbian couple. 

“In 85 days, Marine will be President of the French Republic!” The 150-strong crowd cheered at the sound of the words. On stage, the speaker, the vice-president of the far-right Front National (FN), Florian Philippot, continued: “We will be told that it’s the apocalypse, by the same banks, media, politicians, who were telling the British that Brexit would be an immediate catastrophe.

"Well, they voted, and it’s not! The British are much better off than we are!” The applause grew louder and louder. 

I was in the medieval city of Metz, in a municipal hall near the banks of the Moselle River, a tributary of the Rhine from which the region takes its name. The German border lies 49km east; Luxembourg City is less than an hour’s drive away. This is the "Country of the Three Borders", equidistant from Strasbourg and Frankfurt, and French, German and French again after various wars. Yet for all that local history is deeply rooted in the wider European history, votes for the Front National rank among the highest nationally, and continue to rise at every poll. 

In rural Moselle, “Marine”, as the Front National leader Marine Le Pen is known, has an envoy. In 2014, the well-spoken, elite-educated Philippot, 35, ran for mayor in Forbach, a former miner’s town near the border. He lost to the Socialist candidate but has visited regularly since. Enough for the locals to call him “Florian".

I grew up in a small town, Saint-Avold, halfway between Metz and Forbach. When my grandfather was working in the then-prosperous coal mines, the Moselle region attracted many foreign workers. Many of my fellow schoolmates bore Italian and Polish surnames. But the last mine closed in 2004, and now, some of the immigrants’ grandchildren are voting for the National Front.

Returning, I can't help but wonder: How did my generation, born with the Maastricht treaty, end up turning to the Eurosceptic, hard right FN?

“We’ve seen what the other political parties do – it’s always the same. We must try something else," said Candice Bertrand, 23, She might not be part of the group asking Philippot for selfies, but she had voted FN at every election, and her family agreed. “My mum was a Communist, then voted for [Nicolas] Sarkozy, and now she votes FN. She’s come a long way.”  The way, it seemed, was political distrust.

Minutes earlier, Philippot had pleaded with the audience to talk to their relatives and neighbours. Bertrand had brought her girlfriend, Lola, whom she was trying to convince to vote FN.  Lola wouldn’t give her surname – her strongly left-wing family would “certainly not” like to know she was there. She herself had never voted.

This infuriated Bertrand. “Women have fought for the right to vote!” she declared. Daily chats with Bertrand and her family had warmed up Lola to voting Le Pen in the first round, although not yet in the second. “I’m scared of a major change,” she confided, looking lost. “It’s a bit too extreme.” Both were too young to remember 2002, when a presidential victory for the then-Front National leader Jean-Marie Le Pen, was only a few percentage points away.

Since then, under the leadership of his daughter, Marine, the FN has broken every record. But in this region, the FN’s success isn’t new. In 2002, when liberal France was shocked to see Le Pen reach the second round of the presidential election, the FN was already sailing in Moselle. Le Pen grabbed 23.7 per cent of the Moselle vote in the first round and 21.9 per cent in the second, compared to 16.9 per cent and 17.8 per cent nationally. 

The far-right vote in Moselle remained higher than the national average before skyrocketing in 2012. By then, the younger, softer-looking Marine had taken over the party. In that year, the FN won an astonishing 24.7 per cent of the Moselle vote, and 17.8 per cent nationwide.

For some people of my generation, the FN has already provided opportunities. With his manicured beard and chic suit, Emilien Noé still looks like the Young Socialist he was between 16 and 18 years old. But looks can be deceiving. “I have been disgusted by the internal politics at the Socialist Party, the lack of respect for the low-ranked campaigners," he told me. So instead, he stood as the FN’s youngest national candidate to become mayor in his village, Gosselming, in 2014. “I entered directly into action," he said. (He lost). Now, at just 21, Noé is the FN’s youth coordinator for Eastern France.

Metz, Creative Commons licence credit Morgaine

Next to him stood Kevin Pfeiffer, 27. He told me he used to believe in the Socialist ideal, too - in 2007, as a 17-year-old, he backed Ségolène Royal against Sarkozy. But he is now a FN local councillor and acts as the party's general co-ordinator in the region. Both Noé and Pfeiffer radiated a quiet self-confidence, the sort that such swift rises induces. They shared a deep respect for the young-achiever-in-chief: Philippot. “We’re young and we know we can have perspectives in this party without being a graduate of l’ENA,” said another activist, Olivier Musci, 24. (The elite school Ecole Nationale d’Administration, or ENA, is considered something of a mandatory finishing school for politicians. It counts Francois Hollande and Jacques Chirac among its alumni. Ironically, Philippot is one, too.)

“Florian” likes to say that the FN scores the highest among the young. “Today’s youth have not grown up in a left-right divide”, he told me when I asked why. “The big topics, for them, were Maastricht, 9/11, the Chinese competition, and now Brexit. They have grown up in a political world structured around two poles: globalism versus patriotism.” Notably, half his speech was dedicated to ridiculing the FN's most probably rival, the maverick centrist Emmanuel Macron. “It is a time of the nations. Macron is the opposite of that," Philippot declared. 

At the rally, the blue, red and white flame, the FN’s historic logo, was nowhere to be seen. Even the words “Front National” had deserted the posters, which were instead plastered with “in the name of the people” slogans beneath Marine’s name and large smile. But everyone wears a blue rose at the buttonhole. “It’s the synthesis between the left’s rose and the right’s blue colour”, Pfeiffer said. “The symbol of the impossible becoming possible.” So, neither left nor right? I ask, echoing Macron’s campaign appeal. “Or both left and right”, Pfeiffer answered with a grin.

This nationwide rebranding follows years of efforts to polish the party’s jackass image, forged by decades of xenophobic, racist and anti-Semitic declarations by Le Pen Sr. His daughter evicted him from the party in 2015.

Still, Le Pen’s main pledges revolve around the same issue her father obsessed over - immigration. The resources spent on "dealing with migrants" will, Le Pen promises, be redirected to address the concerns of "the French people". Unemployment, which has been hovering at 10 per cent for years, is very much one of them. Moselle's damaged job market is a booster for the FN - between 10 and 12 per cent of young people are unemployed.

Yet the two phenomena cannot always rationally be linked. The female FN supporters I met candidly admitted they drove from France to Luxembourg every day for work and, like many locals, often went shopping in Germany. Yet they hoped to see the candidate of “Frexit” enter the Elysee palace in May. “We've never had problems to work in Luxembourg. Why would that change?” asked Bertrand. (Le Pen's “144 campaign pledges” promise frontier workers “special measures” to cross the border once out of the Schengen area, which sounds very much like the concept of the Schengen area itself.)

Grégoire Laloux, 21, studied history at the University of Metz. He didn't believe in the European Union. “Countries have their own interests. There are people, but no European people,” he said. “Marine is different because she defends patriotism, sovereignty, French greatness and French history.” He compared Le Pen to Richelieu, the cardinal who made Louis XIV's absolute monarchy possible:  “She, too, wants to build a modern state.”

French populists are quick to link the country's current problems to immigration, and these FN supporters were no exception. “With 7m poor and unemployed, we can't accept all the world's misery,” Olivier Musci, 24, a grandchild of Polish and Italian immigrants, told me. “Those we welcome must serve the country and be proud to be here.”

Lola echoed this call for more assimilation. “At our shopping centre, everyone speaks Arabic now," she said. "People have spat on us, thrown pebbles at us because we're lesbians. But I'm in my country and I have the right to do what I want.” When I asked if the people who attacked them were migrants, she was not so sure. “Let's say, they weren't white.”

Trump promised to “Make America Great Again”. To where would Le Pen's France return? Would it be sovereign again? White again? French again? Ruled by absolutism again? She has blurred enough lines to seduce voters her father never could – the young, the gay, the left-wingers. At the end of his speech, under the rebranded banners, Philippot invited the audience to sing La Marseillaise with him. And in one voice they did: “To arms citizens! Form your battalions! March, march, let impure blood, water our furrows...” The song is the same as the one I knew growing up. But it seemed to me, this time, a more sinister tune.