For hundreds of years the rulers of the Russian empire spoke to its constituent nations in the language of force. Although the Bolsheviks promised to turn "the prison of nations" into a fraternal union, Stalin went on to create a prison such as the Tsars never even imagined.


When Mikhail Gorbachev's advisors undertook the reformation of the Bolshevik inheritance, they met with an unexpected problem with regard to the nationalities question. They had supposed that it would be enough simply to renounce the politics of force, but it soon became clear that it would be necessary somehow to neutralize the egotistical ambitions of local elites and other centrifugal forces.


But these Communist reformers could not come up with any other method of dealing with inter-ethnic conflicts. Against the background of increased democratization, their attempts to use the imperial language of force -- in Tbilisi, Baku and Vilnius -- made the collapse of the Soviet Union a fait accompli.


Now we see that Russia's democrats also lack a democratic way of working out these problems. In the three years since Dzhokar Dudayev pronounced himself president of the Chechen Republic, there were many opportunities to either work out a compromise or to peacefully remove Dudayev by exploiting local dissatisfaction with his regime. Moscow, however, was unable to do either.


The real problem of Chechnya was the criminal character of Dudayev's regime. It was essential to combat Chechnya's criminal elements, and to do so by relying on the support of Chechen businessmen whose legitimate enterprises were being hampered.


Instead, though, Moscow focused its efforts on a basically illusory problem: on the struggle against Dudayev's separatism. By doing so, Moscow merely confirmed Dudayev's pretensions to be the leader of a national liberation struggle.


Professional politicians know that separation from Russia would be catastrophic for the Chechen economy. It would mean irreparable harm and, as a result, outbursts of social unrest that would sweep away the separatist regime. Although many average Chechens did not appreciate this, they could have been pacified with purely symbolic confirmations of Chechnya's special status within the Russian Federation. President Boris Yeltsin signed a special agreement with Tatarstan; what kept him from conducting similar negotiations with Chechnya?


However, the political helplessness of Russia's "democratic" bureaucracy only explains why the Chechen crisis festered for three years. It does not explain the catastrophic turn of recent months. It seems clear that events were motivated much more by the struggle for power in Russia than by a desire to control the situation in Chechnya.


Russia's power ministries have repeatedly taken measures to undermine any possibility of a negotiated settlement whenever it seemed that Dudayev might agree to terms. In addition, the military tactics used in the "operation to destroy armed criminal bands" plainly contradict the government's proclaimed goals. Since the attack, the Chechen people have not disarmed, but have taken up arms. Earlier, Dudayev's rhetoric about a national liberation struggle raised considerable doubts; now all objections have melted away. The Russian government has unleashed a genuine popular struggle for the liberation of Chechnya. All this was easy to foresee. Therefore, it is hard not to think that some party within the government must have been seeking such a war as an end in itself.


There are many forces that are unhappy with Russia's democratic and market reforms. They include the leaders of the defense complex, who see their future not in conversion but in a new arms race. They include generals who are eager to avoid fundamental reform of the armed forces. They include veterans of the secret services who fondly remember the former power of the KGB. All of them may be convinced that a war could help them shift events in their favor.


It is also distinctly possible that individuals in the government might seek a war to increase their own power. For instance, First Deputy Prime Minister Oleg Soskovets, who -- incidentally -- has been named government co-ordinator of the Chechnya operation -- has long been trying to wrest control of the profitable energy complex from Prime Minister Viktor Chernomyrdin, as well as to gain other reins of power.


Now, it is unclear what Yeltsin's political orientation will be. He has sharply changed his former, democratic manner, as well as his team of advisors and the mechanism by which decisions in the Kremlin are reached. His policy has led to a virtually complete break with Russia's democratic movement, which means that he has almost no chance of winning an election in 1996. Will we now see an attempt to cancel this election?


It is also unclear what Russia's largest democratic party, Russia's Choice, will do now that it leaders have become Yeltsin's harshest critics and are faced with the task of reworking their political platform from scratch.


Finally, it is unclear whether the new democratic mechanisms of government are capable of functioning. So far, they have shown a complete inability to act effectively in complex situations. Is this explained by the fact that the mechanisms called for by the constitution have not yet been completely put in place, or is the basic concept of a presidential republic in error?


However, Russian society is showing a increasing ability to consolidate against extremism. The anti-military stance adopted by the mass media and the majority of Duma deputies and regional leaders forces one to conclude that the anti-democratic shift in Russian politics is far from secure. And it will only meet with increasing opposition. In this light, it seems likely that Boris Yeltsin has not yet made his final political choice.


Otto Latsis is a member of the Presidential Advisory Council and a political commentator for Izvestia. He contributed this comment to The Moscow Times.