The Russian military view expressed at that Helsinki seminar reflected not a parochial but a global approach. ‘The end of the Cold War has given a new pulse to the thesis that a big war has no perspective. However, war as a phenomenon is hardly dead. At the present stage of human development it has simply changed appearance. During almost three centuries it had been considered the defining norm for nation states. There is nothing surprising in the fact that the appearance of non-state actors on the national and international scene has brought rapid growth of quasi-private armies and wild-card military formations who consider armed conflict as legitimate business. All of this means that new threats appeared over the horizon acquiring a military dimension.’[4]
In spite of the grim picture of poverty and overstretched resources painted by the military experts, the Kremlin, whenever there is a suitable occasion, tends to put on an appearance of power and glory, mostly for home consumption. At great receptions in the Kremlin young cadets in elegant tsarist uniforms line the corridors and stand at attention. Putin himself, although never a military man, likes to put on a uniform, flying into Chechnya or sporting naval attire. But Russia looks stronger than it really is, and the army is no exception. In fact the Kursk catastrophe was a sad reminder that Russia’s ambition to be a naval power second to none has hit disaster several times, from the Crimean War of the nineteenth century to the sinking of Russia’s battleships by the Japanese near the island of Tsushima in the early twentieth century to the involuntary retreat of the Mediterranean ‘escada’ at the end of the Cold War.
The army as a whole was hit hard by the years of Soviet decline, by underfunding, poor leadership and the loss of a sense of purpose. Today, the state of the armed forces seems to be much worse than officialdom dares to admit. Russia, according to most observers, cannot base its claim to world power on its military capabilities, notwithstanding some spectacular new weapons systems proudly paraded for both the benefit of potential buyers abroad and the prestige of the Kremlin at home.
After the Cold War, the transition was slow and hindered by lack of money, initiative and imagination. Even the housing provided and paid for by the German government to accommodate the officers left stranded after their return from East Germany, was mostly handed over to non-military users better connected. Transformation was inevitable, and it was guided by more or less the same strategic analysis as throughout the West.
Transformation
In 2006-7 the armed forces of Russia, according to figures provided by the London-based International Institute for Strategic Studies, comprised altogether 1,027,000 men and women (army 395,000, navy 142,000, air force 160,000, strategic deterrent force 80,000, command and support 250,000), plus paramilitary forces of 480,000. In theory, there is a reserve of twenty million, of whom only one out of ten has served during the last five years. Reserve status is mandatory until the age of fifty. The defence budget is minute compared with that of the US, and even taking into account real purchasing power it is small. Counted as a percentage of GDP, however, the two countries allow themselves about the same outlay for the military. Sergei Ivanov, while still defence minister under Putin, stated at a meeting with visitors from abroad that Russia would not repeat the fatal mistake of the Soviet Union: to arm itself to death.
In the army, ethnic Russians prevail by far. Only the Tatars at 4 per cent and Ukrainians at 3 per cent make a noticeable contribution; all other nationalities, like Bashkirs, Belarusians, and Moldovans, count for 1 per cent or less.
The deterrent forces, known to the West not only through strategic spying but even more so through various arms control agreements and a remarkable amount of cooperation in securing nuclear warheads against accidental use, are the one element of the military establishment that still allows Russia a claim to world power. There are, after the Kursk, fifteen nuclear-powered and nuclear-armed strategic submarines, some of them probably more dangerous to their own crew than to any enemy, and not seaworthy. Six of the Delta III class are stationed along the Pacific coast, five Delta IV are attached to the Northern Fleet. The land-based systems comprise three rocket armies operating silo and mobile missile-launchers. There are 506 intercontinental ballistic missiles and the long range aviation command called the 37th Air Army. Some aircraft, NATO code Blackjack and Bear, were put back into active service by Putin in the summer of 2007 to patrol the open seas and fly the flag. It was a gesture to remind the world that Russia still has a claim to world power, at least in military symbolism. There are about twenty-two anti-ballistic-missile radars, placed for 360-degree control of airspace and covering approaches from the west and south-west, north-east and south-east, and partially from the south. The space forces number altogether 40,000 personnel in various formations and units withdrawn from strategic missile and air defence forces to detect missile attacks on Russia and its allies, to implement ballistic missile defence and to conduct military and dual-use spacecraft launch and control.
The navy’s overall serviceability is generally seen as low. There are four major forces: the Northern fleet with air arm and naval infantry, the Pacific Fleet, the Black Sea Fleet and the Baltic Fleet plus the Caspian Sea Flotilla.
Deployment abroad is very limited. What is controversial for the West is the 3000 soldiers in Georgia’s disputed areas South Ossetia and Abkhazia, and the so-called 14th Army with 1400 men (365 accepted as peacekeepers) in Moldova. Those troops are the ones Russia wants to keep where they are while the West is demanding their withdrawal. This has recently translated into Russia suspending the CFE (Conventional Forces in Europe) Treaty, which offered confidence and security-building measures to both sides. There are still 3500 Russian soldiers in Armenia, some anti-air units in Belarus, a small naval detachment in Syria, 500 soldiers in Kyrgyzstan, some more in Tajikistan. In Ukraine, where the Russian Fleet has leased berthing and port facilities on the Black Sea in Sebastopol, the Russians have deployed one regiment of marines and a small flotilla, a naval headquarters. The rest are small units under the blue helmets of the UN or, as in Lebanon, one batallion of engineers, placed there by bilateral agreement, parallel to the UNIFIL mission.
Except in the nuclear dimension, Russia is no longer the military giant of 5 million men at arms that the Soviet Union was even in the days when it had passed its apogee. On 10 May 2006 Putin, in his annual address to the Federal Assembly, spoke about the state of the military. He maintained that in spite of many economic weaknesses, the army would still be able to fulfil its mission and guarantee the defence and security of the country. Looking back at 1999-2000 – the time of NATO’s Kosovo war and Russia’s Chechen war – he said that the country had not been able to field a minimum of 65,000 well-trained and combat-ready soldiers and send them to fight the rebels in Chechnya. At that time, according to the President, Russia had altogether no more than 55,000 soldiers ready to go, and they were dispersed all over Russia. Putin sounded like NATO’s Secretary General at the time, Lord George Robertson, when he complained that out of 1.4 million Russian men and women in uniform no more than a few were ready for active combat.