Rusnano, as the state-controlled organization is officially known, was also hit hard by the sanctions imposed after the annexation of Crimea and the incursion into Ukraine. Alcoa withdrew from a project to produce wear-resistant nano coating for drill pipe to be used in harsh environments like the Arctic’s. That was a double loss for Russia because it hurt not only the nano but also the petro sector, which needs foreign expertise and investment because Russia’s fields are now “browning,” meaning all the easy oil has been taken.
The failure of nanotech, thus far at least, finds its explanation in a saying by former prime minister Viktor Chernomyrdin, known for his savvy malapropisms: “We were hoping for better but got same as always.”
The real fault, however, is Putin’s. In 2004–8, with oil prices at their highest and no real enemy on the horizon, he had a unique opportunity to transform Russia from a petrostate into a sleeker, smarter twenty-first-century economy, one that was knowledge-based. Such an economy would have required more highly educated people and would have created greater wealth among a greater number. And that dynamic combination of conditions—education, wealth, a sense of being a stakeholder—could have been the matrix out of which, by its own mysterious laws of development, a new sense of national identity could have emerged, delivering Russia from the zombie-like state it has been in since the fall of the USSR. Helping to craft a transformation of that magnitude would have meant crafting himself a major place in history, possibly even one alongside the other two great Vladimirs—Grand Prince Vladimir of Kiev, who brought Christianity to the country, and Vladimir Lenin, who brought it Communism. But he didn’t.
For Putin to have risked transforming Russia from a petrostate into a twenty-first-century diversified economy would have created a hazardous transition in which his own grip on power could have been lost. Power would have had to be delegated and decentralized, endangering Putin’s position at the apex of the “power vertical.” His various constituencies from pensioners to power elite must feel secure and must receive their accustomed share of the wealth. Such a system runs on loyalty and corruption. It has been said of Russia that the system is not corrupt but rather corruption is the system. And that is because no one feels a stake in the system, which inspires no sense of solidity, dependability, longevity—it can all be gone in the blink of history’s eye. And Putin’s chance to truly reform his country was also gone in the blink of that same eye.
Oil is termed a wasting asset because, once used, it can never be replaced. Still, some substitutes can be found. It is time that is the ultimate wasting asset. And the one Putin so wrongfully squandered.
7
THE HEART OF THE MATTER: UKRAINE
In geopolitics, the past never dies, and there is no modern world.
“You have to understand, George,” said Putin to Bush at the 2008 NATO summit in Bucharest, “Ukraine isn’t even a real country.”
It is not only Putin but millions of other Russians, from workers to intellectuals, who share that sentiment. Discussing Russians and Ukrainians, even former president Mikhail Gorbachev said: “It might not be a scientific fact but we are one people.”
That attitude has two very different aspects—one is a mélange of history, mythology, and emotion, while the other is cool, practical, pure geopolitik.
For generations it was drummed into every Russia schoolchild’s head that Kiev is the mother of Russian cities. In fact, Russia’s two great foundation myths are centered on Kiev and Ukraine. The ancient Chronicles report that around 860 the forever-warring Russian princes sent an envoy to the Vikings with the following plea: “Our land is vast and rich, but there is no order in it. Come and rule over us.” The second sentence—“Come and rule over us”—is disingenuous. In all probability, the Vikings had already conquered the country, and the chronicler was using verbal sleight of hand to turn invasion into invitation.
The other foundation myth concerns the conversion of Grand Prince Vladimir of Kiev to Eastern Orthodox Christianity in 988. Vladimir himself was baptized in Crimea, and more than a thousand years later Putin would use that fact as one of his justifications for the annexation of that territory, calling that land “sacred.” When word went out for the mass baptism of his subjects in Kiev, Vladimir made himself quite clear on the point: “If anyone does not come, let him consider himself my enemy.”
Had it not been for Genghis Khan’s Mongol Horde that overran the lands of the Eastern and Southern Slavs in the early 1200s, it might well have been a Ukrainian leader confiding to President Bush: “You know, George, Russia is not even a real country.”