When Russia opened its doors and windows to the west (and punched a large hole in its roof), it experienced a catastrophic loss of sovereignty over its territory and the collapse of most of its own institutions. Few states would have given away the secrets it surrendered in that post-communist period and got so little, except self-serving advice, in return. Now that the pendulum has swung to the opposite end of the arc, a xenophobic, truculent nationalism rules the day. Russia is no longer ruled by a drunk president, but by an all too sober one. In his latest interviews Mr Putin threatened to retrain nuclear missiles on to European targets if Washington went ahead with its plans to deploy a missile base in Poland and a radar system in the Czech Republic. Not only that. Two could play at tearing up international treaties, Mr Putin appeared to be warning us. If the Bush administration withdrew in 2002 from the anti-ballistic missile treaty - which had been in force for 30 years - Russia may do the same for the treaties governing intermediate nuclear and conventional weapons. It is no exaggeration to say that Europe could again be faced by thousands of Russian tanks.
These statements are certainly belligerent. But none of them yet amount to a policy, let alone a doctrine. Take the lively exchange over Britain's request to extradite Andrei Lugovoi, the former Federal Security Service officer, for the alleged poisoning of his former colleague Alexander Litvinenko. Russian diplomats reacted vigorously to the notion that the affair could poison relations between the two countries, saying it was a matter for the judicial process, which had still to run its course. Within days Mr Lugovoi accused the British secret service of involvement and latterly Mr Putin accused Britain of politicising the murder. If the prosecutor general has yet to determine the matter, why is the president of the Russian Federation speaking at all on this issue?
Other than the impulse to hit out, or hit back, there is little discernible strategy in these public positions. Do the Russians really intend to target their missiles at cities such as London, where thousands of Russians live? Are nuclear threats the best way to convince a new generation of European leaders - such as the German chancellor, Angela Merkel, or the French president, Nicolas Sarkozy - that Russia is a country to do business with? Is a return to the language of the cold war helpful in defining Moscow's legitimate strategic interests? Is Russia in the process of ruining a good argument on missile defence by simply hardening the resolve of eastern European states to adopt it? The cure that Mr Putin is being advised to administer is more harmful than the disease. What is needed is a period of calm, not confrontation, where leaders of the modern world can talk to each other sensibly on areas of mutual interest. Little of this is now likely to happen at the meeting of G8 leaders that starts tomorrow on the Baltic coast. This was a forum which Russia pressed hard to join, but from which it could find itself walking away.
"The Guardian"
