Whether the present cease-fire in Chechnya will hold is, of course, questionable. Yet, regardless of future developments, the message of the war is clear: The Russian Army has suffered a humiliating defeat.
Elaborating on the reason for the humiliation, Alexander Lebed, the chief security adviser, blamed the defeat on a poorly designed supply line and the lack of coordination among military commanders. He also pointed an accusing finger at the corrupt bureaucracy, for whom the war was merely a way to make money. While his explanations are valid, they do not reveal the real problem behind the debacle -- the poor morale of Russian soldiers.
The problem here goes beyond inadequate food or clothing. As recent history shows, during World War II, Russian soldiers demonstrated a stubborn resistance and heroic feats of defiance in the most desperate of situations. The problem in Chechnya was that Russian soldiers, in sharp contrast to their grandfathers and fathers, had no clear idea as to why, or for whom, they were fighting and dying.
The understanding of "nation" and "people" as two distinct entities is not grasped by most Americans. In their view, Americans are those who legally reside in the United States, and the protection of the country -- America -- is equated with protection of the people -- Americans.
The situation is different in Europe in general and in Russia in particular, where the "people," usually regarded as a particular ethnic group, are viewed as being separate from the "nation" -- the territory of the country. Usually the strongest allegiance is to your ethnic kin -- "my people" -- not the state. The passionate desire for the collection of one's ethnic kin under the umbrella of one state is the strongest drive in European nationalism.
Yet this feeling was almost lacking in the political design of the Russian Federation from the start. Indeed, while Chechnya remained part of the Russian Federation, huge tracts of land with predominantly Russian population remained in the hands of such republics as Kazakhstan. Russians did not mind this so much during the Soviet period, when the division was regarded as mostly symbolic. But today this division is troublesome and is made more so, since the government does nothing to protect the rights of Russian minorities in those republics, where they are often discriminated against.
No policy exists to help them migrate to Russia despite the fact that quite a few of them would happily do so.
Thus, Russian soldiers in Chechnya wondered why they should fight for this configuration of the border instead of a different one.
Why should Chechnya, with its foreign culture and ethnicity, be an integral part of Russia, but not Belarus, with its Slavic pro-Russian populace or northern Kazakhstan, with its mostly Russian population?
Why is Russia's territorial integrity sacred but not the Soviet Union's?
Why was the destruction of the Soviet empire a progressive act denoting the liberation of the people, whereas the Chechens' attempt to leave the Russian Federation, which is not an empire, a violation of Russia's integrity that must be put down at all costs?
Russian soldiers have come to the conclusion that the patriotic statements of Yeltsin's government are nothing but a sham, and the war in Chechnya has nothing to do with the protection of their country or their blood kin. Soldiers believe that the disintegration of the Soviet Union did nothing but ensure that Yeltsin and other regional elites could grab power.
Russian soldiers are also keenly aware that corruption is widespread in the army, and the war is a way for many semi-criminals and criminals to make money.
Many of the soldiers themselves went to war for only one reason: The war was the only available employment.
As a correspondent from Komsomolskaya Pravda recently pointed out, none of the soldiers in Chechnya felt they were fighting "For the Motherland!" -- the slogan of the Great Patriotic War. This young generation of Russian soldiers was hard put to define what their motherland even was and for what ideal they were to lay down their lives.
Their feelings differed from the resolute Chechen fighters, who with their strong ethnic and cultural identity had a strong sense that they were fighting to protect both their country and their people.
Russia, like many other nations, has experienced several humiliating defeats in its long history. All of these defeats offered a moment of truth.
The defeat at the hands of the Swedes at the beginning of Peter the Great's reign demonstrated the peril of ignoring the achievements of Western civilization. The Crimean War in the middle of the 19th century pointed to the necessity of social change -- the liberation of Russian serfs from the yoke of landlords. The Russo-Japanese War indicated the necessity of the first Russian parliament, the Duma.
The Chechen war, regardless of the immediate outcomes of the truce, indicates another problem, one that Russia has never experienced in its modern history -- a lack of a sense of identity and belonging. It also reveals a serious national illness, a lack of morale that has infected not only the army but the entire society.
If no conclusion is drawn from this defeat, or it is trivialized, as some of the statements of Lebed suggest, it would not, of course, necessarily be the death knell for the Russian Federation.
However, if this is merely the first in a series of blows to a foundation already weakened by the country's numerous other ills, the fate of the Russian Federation might be similar to that of the U.S.S.R.
Dmitry Shlapentokh is professor of history at Indiana University, South Bend. He contributed this comment to The Moscow Times.
Elaborating on the reason for the humiliation, Alexander Lebed, the chief security adviser, blamed the defeat on a poorly designed supply line and the lack of coordination among military commanders. He also pointed an accusing finger at the corrupt bureaucracy, for whom the war was merely a way to make money. While his explanations are valid, they do not reveal the real problem behind the debacle -- the poor morale of Russian soldiers.
The problem here goes beyond inadequate food or clothing. As recent history shows, during World War II, Russian soldiers demonstrated a stubborn resistance and heroic feats of defiance in the most desperate of situations. The problem in Chechnya was that Russian soldiers, in sharp contrast to their grandfathers and fathers, had no clear idea as to why, or for whom, they were fighting and dying.
The understanding of "nation" and "people" as two distinct entities is not grasped by most Americans. In their view, Americans are those who legally reside in the United States, and the protection of the country -- America -- is equated with protection of the people -- Americans.
The situation is different in Europe in general and in Russia in particular, where the "people," usually regarded as a particular ethnic group, are viewed as being separate from the "nation" -- the territory of the country. Usually the strongest allegiance is to your ethnic kin -- "my people" -- not the state. The passionate desire for the collection of one's ethnic kin under the umbrella of one state is the strongest drive in European nationalism.
Yet this feeling was almost lacking in the political design of the Russian Federation from the start. Indeed, while Chechnya remained part of the Russian Federation, huge tracts of land with predominantly Russian population remained in the hands of such republics as Kazakhstan. Russians did not mind this so much during the Soviet period, when the division was regarded as mostly symbolic. But today this division is troublesome and is made more so, since the government does nothing to protect the rights of Russian minorities in those republics, where they are often discriminated against.
No policy exists to help them migrate to Russia despite the fact that quite a few of them would happily do so.
Thus, Russian soldiers in Chechnya wondered why they should fight for this configuration of the border instead of a different one.
Why should Chechnya, with its foreign culture and ethnicity, be an integral part of Russia, but not Belarus, with its Slavic pro-Russian populace or northern Kazakhstan, with its mostly Russian population?
Why is Russia's territorial integrity sacred but not the Soviet Union's?
Why was the destruction of the Soviet empire a progressive act denoting the liberation of the people, whereas the Chechens' attempt to leave the Russian Federation, which is not an empire, a violation of Russia's integrity that must be put down at all costs?
Russian soldiers have come to the conclusion that the patriotic statements of Yeltsin's government are nothing but a sham, and the war in Chechnya has nothing to do with the protection of their country or their blood kin. Soldiers believe that the disintegration of the Soviet Union did nothing but ensure that Yeltsin and other regional elites could grab power.
Russian soldiers are also keenly aware that corruption is widespread in the army, and the war is a way for many semi-criminals and criminals to make money.
Many of the soldiers themselves went to war for only one reason: The war was the only available employment.
As a correspondent from Komsomolskaya Pravda recently pointed out, none of the soldiers in Chechnya felt they were fighting "For the Motherland!" -- the slogan of the Great Patriotic War. This young generation of Russian soldiers was hard put to define what their motherland even was and for what ideal they were to lay down their lives.
Their feelings differed from the resolute Chechen fighters, who with their strong ethnic and cultural identity had a strong sense that they were fighting to protect both their country and their people.
Russia, like many other nations, has experienced several humiliating defeats in its long history. All of these defeats offered a moment of truth.
The defeat at the hands of the Swedes at the beginning of Peter the Great's reign demonstrated the peril of ignoring the achievements of Western civilization. The Crimean War in the middle of the 19th century pointed to the necessity of social change -- the liberation of Russian serfs from the yoke of landlords. The Russo-Japanese War indicated the necessity of the first Russian parliament, the Duma.
The Chechen war, regardless of the immediate outcomes of the truce, indicates another problem, one that Russia has never experienced in its modern history -- a lack of a sense of identity and belonging. It also reveals a serious national illness, a lack of morale that has infected not only the army but the entire society.
If no conclusion is drawn from this defeat, or it is trivialized, as some of the statements of Lebed suggest, it would not, of course, necessarily be the death knell for the Russian Federation.
However, if this is merely the first in a series of blows to a foundation already weakened by the country's numerous other ills, the fate of the Russian Federation might be similar to that of the U.S.S.R.
Dmitry Shlapentokh is professor of history at Indiana University, South Bend. He contributed this comment to The Moscow Times.