Russian Policy towards China and Japan: The Yeltsin and Putin Periods

Russian Policy towards China and Japan

Drawing on the most up-to-date sources, this book provides an in-depth examination of Russia’s relations with China and Japan, the two Asia-Pacific superpowers-in-waiting. For Russia there has always been more than one ‘Asia’: after the collapse of the Soviet Union, there were those in the Russian elite who saw Asia as implying the economic dynamism of the Asia-Pacific, with Japan as the main player. However, there were others who saw the chance for Russia to reassert its claim to be a great power, based on Russia’s geopolitical and geoeconomic position as a Eurasian power. For these, China was the power to engage with: together China and Russia could control both Heartland and Rim, both Eurasia and Asia-Pacific, whereas accepting Japan’s conception of Asia implied regional fragmentation and shared sovereignty. This book argues that this strand of thinking, mainly confined to nationalists in the El’tsin years, has now, under Putin, become the dominant discourse among Russian policymakers. Despite opportunities for convergence presented by energy resources, even for trilateral cooperation, traditional anxiety regarding loss of control over key resource areas in the Russian Far East is now used to inform regional policy, leading to a new resource nationalism. In light of Russia’s new assertiveness in global affairs and its increasing use of the so-called ‘energy weapon’ in foreign policy, this book will appeal not only to specialists on Russian politics and foreign policy, but also to international relations scholars. Natasha Kuhrt lectures on the International Peace and Security Master’s Programme at King’s College, London. She holds a doctorate in Russian foreign policy from University College, London and is the author of a chapter on Russian policy towards China and Japan under Putin to be published in a forthcoming volume on Russian foreign policy edited by Marie Mendras.

BASEES/Routledge series on Russian and East European studies Series editor: Richard Sakwa, Department of Politics and International Relations, University of Kent Editorial Committee: Julian Cooper, Centre for Russian and East European Studies, University of Birmingham Terry Cox, Department of Central and East European Studies, University of Glasgow Rosalind Marsh, Department of European Studies and Modern Languages, University of Bath David Moon, Department of History, University of Durham Hilary Pilkington, Department of Sociology, University of Warwick Stephen White, Department of Politics, University of Glasgow Founding Editorial Committee Member: George Blazyca, Centre for Contemporary European Studies, University of Paisley This series is published on behalf of BASEES (the British Association for Slavonic and East European Studies). The series comprises original, highquality, research-level work by both new and established scholars on all aspects of Russian, Soviet, post-Soviet and East European Studies in humanities and social science subjects. 1 Ukraine’s Foreign and Security Policy, 1991–2000 Roman Wolczuk

5 Political Elites and the New Russia Anton Steen

2 Political Parties in the Russian Regions Derek S. Hutcheson

6 Dostoevsky and the Idea of Russianness Sarah Hudspith

3 Local Communities and PostCommunist Transformation Edited by Simon Smith

7 Performing Russia Folk revival and Russian identity Laura J. Olson

4 Repression and Resistance in Communist Europe J.C. Sharman

8 Russian Transformations Edited by Leo McCann

9 Soviet Music and Society under Lenin and Stalin The baton and sickle Edited by Neil Edmunds 10 State Building in Ukraine The Ukranian parliament, 1990–2003 Sarah Whitmore 11 Defending Human Rights in Russia Sergei Kovalyov, dissident and Human Rights Commissioner, 1969–2003 Emma Gilligan 12 Small-Town Russia Postcommunist livelihoods and identities: a portrait of the intelligentsia in Achit, Bednodemyanovsk and Zubtsov, 1999–2000 Anne White 13 Russian Society and the Orthodox Church Religion in Russia after communism Zoe Knox

17 Soviet Dissent and Russia’s Transition to Democracy Dissident legacies Robert Horvath 18 Russian and Soviet Film Adaptations of Literature, 1900–2001 Screening the word Edited by Stephen Hutchings and Anat Vernitski 19 Russia as a Great Power Dimensions of security under Putin Edited by Jakob Hedenskog, Vilhelm Konnander, Bertil Nygren, Ingmar Oldberg and Christer Pursiainen 20 Katyn and the Soviet Massacre of 1940 Truth, justice and memory George Sanford 21 Conscience, Dissent and Reform in Soviet Russia Philip Boobbyer

14 Russian Literary Culture in the Camera Age The word as image Stephen Hutchings

22 The Limits of Russian Democratisation Emergency powers and states of emergency Alexander N. Domrin

15 Between Stalin and Hitler Class war and race war on the Dvina, 1940–46 Geoffrey Swain

23 The Dilemmas of Destalinisation A social and cultural history of reform in the Khrushchev era Edited by Polly Jones

16 Literature in Post-Communist Russia and Eastern Europe The Russian, Czech and Slovak fiction of the changes 1988–98 Rajendra A. Chitnis

24 News Media and Power in Russia Olessia Koltsova

25 Post-Soviet Civil Society Democratization in Russia and the Baltic States Anders Uhlin 26 The Collapse of Communist Power in Poland Jacqueline Hayden 27 Television, Democracy and Elections in Russia Sarah Oates 28 Russian Constitutionalism Historical and contemporary development Andrey N. Medushevsky 29 Late Stalinist Russia Society between reconstruction and reinvention Edited by Juliane Fürst 30 The Transformation of Urban Space in Post-Soviet Russia Konstantin Axenov, Isolde Brade and Evgenij Bondarchuk 31 Western Intellectuals and the Soviet Union, 1920–40 From Red Square to the Left Bank Ludmila Stern 32 The Germans of the Soviet Union Irina Mukhina 33 Re-constructing the Post-Soviet Industrial Region The Donbas in transition Edited by Adam Swain 34 Chechnya Russia’s ‘War on Terror’ John Russell

35 The New Right in the New Europe Czech transformation and rightwing politics, 1989–2006 Seán Hanley 36 Democracy and Myth in Russia and Eastern Europe Edited by Alexander Wöll and Harald Wydra 37 Energy Dependency, Politics and Corruption in the Former Soviet Union Russia’s power, oligarchs’ profits and Ukraine’s missing energy policy, 1995–2006 Margarita M. Balmaceda 38 Peopling the Russian Periphery Borderland colonization in Eurasian history Edited by Nicholas B. Breyfogle, Abby Schrader and Willard Sunderland 39 Russian Legal Culture Before and After Communism Criminal justice, politics and the public sphere Frances Nethercott 40 Political and Social Thought in Post-Communist Russia Axel Kaehne 41 The Demise of the Soviet Communist Russia Atsushi Ogushi 42 Russian Policy Towards China and Japan The El’tsin and Putin periods Natasha Kuhrt

Russian Policy towards China and Japan The El’tsin and Putin periods

Natasha Kuhrt

First published 2007 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2007. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2007 Natasha Kuhrt All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN 0-203-71688-4 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN10: 0-415-30578-0 (hbk) ISBN10: 0-203-71688-4 (ebk) ISBN13: 978-0-415-30578-5 (hbk) ISBN13: 978-0-203-71688-5 (ebk)

Contents

List of illustrations Acknowledgements List of abbreviations and acronyms

viii ix x

1

Introduction

1

2

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

9

3

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin: redefining the joint border

28

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin: the broader context

45

5

Russian policy towards Japan under El’tsin

60

6

Russia and Japan under El’tsin: problems of international cooperation

100

7

Russian policy towards China under Putin

111

8

Russian policy towards Japan under Putin

139

9

Conclusions

157

Notes Bibliography Index

167 203 222

4

Illustrations

Tables 2.1 5.1 7.1 8.1

Russia–China trade, 1992–99 Russia–Japan trade, 1989–99 Russia–China trade, 2000–05 Russia–Japan trade, 2000–05

16 85 117 147

Maps 3.1 4.1 5.1 5.2 7.1

China–USSR border Commonwealth of Independent States – Central Asian states Japan–USSR: Northern Territories/South Kurils Russian Far East, showing South Kurils Eastern Siberia–Pacific Ocean Pipeline

30 47 62 63 124

Acknowledgements

This book is based partly on my doctoral thesis, Russian Policy Towards China and Japan, 1991–97, which I defended successfully in 2000. I would therefore like to thank my supervisor Dr P.J.S. Duncan, and my deputy supervisor Dr Martin McCauley for their help and advice during those years of research. During the final year, my mother, Amelie Kuhrt, was a great source of practical advice and support. Concerning publication of this book, I would like to thank John Berryman, lecturer at Birkbeck College, London for bringing the thesis to the attention of Routledge in the first place. For the delays to the book I would like particularly to thank my two children, Hector and Katerina, whose births in December 2001 and June 2003 interrupted, in the most delightful manner, the updating of the manuscript. For his immeasurable patience over the years, and for his help with maps and tables, I would like to thank my husband, James Everard. I would like to thank those who agreed to speak to me on my trips to Moscow in 1997 and 2005, both academics and policymakers, some of them anonymous, regarding Russian Policy Towards China and Japan. I would like to express my gratitude to Mr Shoichi Itoh, former diplomat, and now researcher at the Economic Research Institute of Northeast Asia (ERINA) in Niigata, Japan, for his valuable insights into energy issues in Northeast Asia, and assistance with statistical data. My thanks are due to ERINA also for allowing me to use their map of the Eastern Siberian pipeline project. For the maps of the Soviet/Russian–Chinese border, the Kuril islands, Russian Far East and Central Asia, I would like to acknowledge the Perry–Castaneda On-line Map collection at the Library of the University of Texas at Austin. Finally, many thanks to Peter Sowden, Commissioning Editor at Routledge, for his infinite patience and forbearance. London, May 2007

Abbreviations and acronyms

APEC APR ARF ASEAN CBM CIS DPRK FBGS FBIS Gaimusho G-7/G-8 IAEA IISS IMEMO JV KEDO KPRF LDP LDPR MFEA MGIMO MID MITI NDR NPT ODA OSCE PFP PLA RFE RFE/RL RIIA SVR WTO

Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation Asia-Pacific Region ASEAN Regional Forum Association of Southeast Asian Nations Confidence-Building Measure Commonwealth of Independent States Democratic People’s Republic of Korea Federal Border Guards Service Foreign Broadcast Information Service Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs Group of Seven/Eight International Atomic Energy Agency International Institute for Strategic Studies (London) Institute of World Economy and International Relations Joint Venture Korean Energy Development Organisation Communist Party of the Russian Federation Liberal Democratic Party of Japan Liberal Democratic Party (Russia) Ministry of Foreign Economic Affairs (Russia) Moscow State Institute of International Relations Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Federation Ministry for International Trade and Industry (Japan) Our Home is Russia Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty Official Development Assistance (Japan) Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe Partnership for Peace People’s Liberation Army Russian Far East Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty Royal Institute of International Affairs Foreign Intelligence Service (Russia) World Trade Organisation

1

Introduction

Identity crisis Russia’s relations with China and Japan are important for a range of reasons. First, in geographical terms, these two countries abut Russia’s Far East, which has increased in significance in the 1990s. Second, since Gorbachev’s famous speech at Vladivostok in 1986, the Asia-Pacific was widely expected to become a new opportunity for the Soviet Union in both economic and political terms. Third, these relations can tell us much about the new Russia’s foreign policy as a whole, as the debates over Russian national identity have tended to crystallise around relations with on the one hand, ‘the East’, and on the other, ‘the West’. What was particularly interesting about Russia’s policy towards China and Japan under El’tsin, in terms of the East/West debate, is that there were in effect two different ‘Easts’ in operation in the minds of the Russian elite, or at least they were used to mean different things in different contexts. For some in Russia the East implied the economic dynamism of the Asia-Pacific – with Japan as the main player. For others it meant a chance to reassert Russia’s claim to be a great power, based mainly on its geopolitical position as an Eurasian power: for these China is the power to engage with. Looking at the two powers from the traditional geopolitical perspective, China and Russia together could control both ‘Heartland’ and ‘Rim’1 – both Eurasia and Asia-Pacific, while Japan and the Russian Far East sat on the periphery. When Russian foreign policy players spoke of turning to the East, what was really meant was turning to China and away from Japan. The fact that the intensification of relations with China came when Russia was attempting to define its relationship with the new independent states on its borders provided a unique opportunity to present this as a coherent strategy borne of discontent with Western policies and with Japan in particular, as the West’s ‘representative’ in the East. The rimland idea (open regionalism) implied acceptance of shared sovereignty and possibly of Russia as a raw materials supplier, which was not a palatable scenario for most Russians to accept. Chinese notions of a ‘Northeast Asian coprosperity sphere’ or the Japanese idea of a ‘Sea of Japan economic zone’2 did not come to fruition, in part because of latent suspicion among the powers here, but also because of Russian fears of losing control of key resource

2

Introduction

areas. This is reflected in the approach to security in the region, which has often continued to rely on bilateral dialogues rather than multilateral security mechanisms. As William F. Tow has pointed out this tends to encourage American unilateralism,3 which is resented by Russia and China. Russian proposals for multilateral security mechanisms are not welcomed by any party in the region. Thus engagement with the Asia-Pacific and therefore with China and Japan has been constrained by internal disputes regarding Russian national identity. As one Russian political scientist put it: We understand that we are no longer the Soviet Union. We understand that we are not the Russian empire. We understand that we are not western Europe. But who then are we? Until we have developed a new identity we cannot conduct serious, reasonable, logical, consistent policies.4 It is ironic that the end of ideology in the Soviet Union made it easier for Gorbachev to make headway in rapprochement with China, but did not, at first, help to improve relations with Japan. If anything, the collapse of the Soviet Union made dialogue with Japan more difficult, partly because of Japanese domestic politics, which still viewed the Soviet Union, and later Russia, as a military threat. Of course Japan’s close ties to the United States also made dialogue more problematic. Despite the avowal by the new thinkers (found primarily in the Russian foreign ministry) that Russia now viewed the US–Japan alliance as a factor of stability, this notion took time to filter down through the armed forces. In any case the collapse of the Soviet Union increased sharply the salience of geopolitical factors in foreign policy and increased the sense of territorial vulnerability. The agreement on the border of the Sino-Soviet border had been initialled prior to the fall of the Soviet Union, and was therefore an existing obligation. In addition, the military build-up here had led to serious confrontation in the past, and now hindered cross-border trade. As it was not at all certain that concessions to Japan would inevitably bring with them economic investments, there was clearly less at stake. Thus, the foreign policy concept of 1993 noted the special status of the countries of the Asia-Pacific, West and South Asia in terms of establishing Russia’s ‘Eurasian status’ and exerting a direct influence on the situation in the CIS by virtue of their geopolitical position.5 Of course the dilemma for Russia in making a direct link between policy in Northeast Asia and Russian policy in the CIS was that while it went some way to addressing the Sino-Russian relationship, it left largely unanswered the relationship with Japan. In the past relations with Japan had been defined by their importance for the future of the Russian Far East, but the argument that geographical contiguity and economic complementarity would automatically signal investment by Japanese business proved illusory. This was the lesson of the El’tsin years, but it had to be learnt again under Putin.

Introduction

3

Domestic factors This book sets out to chart the progress of relations between Russia and China on the one hand, and Russia and Japan on the other. The analysis is conducted in the context of Russian domestic debates on internal and external policies, which have been closely intertwined. While acknowledging the importance of external factors, for example, Western financial aid (or lack of) and global financial markets, on Russian foreign policy, many of the problems of Russian foreign policy came from within and were closely related to the problems outlined above: that is, the future of the Russian state as territorial entity, and in particular the ‘fallout’ from the collapse of the Soviet Union in the shape of its relations with the ‘near abroad’. Russia’s ambivalent relationship to territory is well described by Pavel Baev: when ‘some parts of the state start to drift away, borders are declared sacred and inviolable, but when there is a chance to add a piece to the state – then borders are taken as conveniently expandable’.6 Thus, this account seeks to concentrate on Russian domestic political developments as a key to understanding Russia’s approach to the Asia-Pacific, and specifically Northeast Asia, because this can then encompass discussion of Central Asia, as well as the Russian Far East.

Scope In too many analyses Russia’s policy towards Northeast Asia has taken second place after Russian policy towards Europe and the United States. Studies in the West of Russian policy in Northeast Asia or the Asia-Pacific tended to be by American academics who often viewed Russian interests here as peripheral. These analyses did not often make room for Russian internal politics, or if they did, such background was dealt with in a sketchy fashion, tending to look at Russian policy here principally from a security viewpoint. While this is a valid angle, too often this can become mired in defence-related concerns, which tell us little about the overall thrust of Russian foreign policy. In the 1990s the number of monographs dealing exclusively with Russian policy towards China or Russian relations with Japan since the fall of the Soviet Union were few and far between, in fact on Russia and China the only Western-published single-author analysis was Jennifer Anderson’s perceptive, if brief, Adelphi Paper.7 Most of the works published in the West focused on relations in the broader security context, usually with the United States as the central player. These were useful, but were not able to provide any insight into the domestic debates regarding Russia’s Asia policy.8 A valuable work, albeit superseded by events, was the collection of chapters edited by Ramesh Thakur and Carlyle Thayer, which took a comprehensive look at Russia in the Asia-Pacific. However, this was published in 1993, and therefore necessarily had to rely on predictions of future Russian policy in the region.9 On Japan, and the territorial dispute, the high optimism in the late 1980s and early 1990s, regarding a possible breakthrough in relations meant that

4

Introduction

Russo-Japanese relations received far more attention: Joachim Glaubitz’s overview of Soviet/Russo-Japanese relations is an invaluable resource in terms of untangling the history of the dispute, but also the problems of economic cooperation in the Far East. Unfortunately the analysis ends in 1991, with just a brief epilogue. Jonathan Haslam and Andrew Kuchins published a collection of articles on the Russo-Japanese relationship, which tried to get away from the territorial issue, but again this account stops in 1993. Here at least there was comprehensive background to Russian domestic influences, albeit mainly on the Gorbachev period.10 Similarly the volume by Kimie Hara, while published in 1998, has little of substance to say on developments under El’tsin, as its main focus is the Soviet period.11 In 1996 a US–Japanese–Russian edited volume appeared, with articles covering diverse aspects of the Soviet/Russo-Japanese relationship, including issues of economic cooperation, and the wider regional security context.12 This volume was more even-handed, containing contributions from several Russian politicians and academics, but again, the analysis stopped at the end of 1993/beginning of 1994. In addition there was no overall context of Russian foreign policy into which these separate analyses can be fitted. Since 2001, there has been a burgeoning interest in Sino-Russian relations in the West (in sharp contrast to the 1990s when interest was scant). On China, Jeanne Wilson’s book is a welcome addition to the scarce body of work on RussoChinese relations, and one of the first to offer coverage of Putin’s China policy.13 Other works that appeared towards the end of the El’tsin era included an excellent volume on Russia–China relations and another edited work on Russia and Asia, that sought to address Russia’s relations with Asia, very broadly conceived.14 Fortunately the Russian Sinologist Alexander Lukin and the Japanese scholar Akihiro Iwashita have also sought to remedy this deficit, Iwashita’s monograph on the Sino-Russian border being an admirable example of detailed and painstaking research on a neglected issue of bilateral relations.15 Andrei Voskressenski, the prolific Sinologist at IMEMO (now at MGIMO) was a mine of information on Russia–China relations, both historical and contemporary, throughout the 1990s.16 On the Russian side, Mikhail Titarenko’s volume gave a throughgoing account of Russian policy in Northeast Asia, dealing with China, Japan and Korea, and including discussion of Russian concerns in Central Asia.17 Unfortunately, little substantial work has been completed on Russo-Japanese relations by Russian academics, barring the occasional article, while the account by the nationalist Igor’ Latyshev (Pravda’s Tokyo correspondent for 15 years, and a member of the ‘Committee for the Defence of the Kurils’) of the RussoJapanese dispute is highly subjective and frankly hysterical and extreme in tone. The title alone, ‘Who is Selling Russia and how. A chronicle of Russo-Japanese Territorial Deals (1991–1994)’, says it all.18 In Russia, analysis and discussion of Russo-Japanese relations in both the media and academic press tapered off after the 1993 summit, having become almost a taboo subject. Moreover, the sparseness of Russo-Japanese interaction and dearth of diplomatic successes, by contrast with China, led to a lack of interest. Amongst Russian diplomats being

Introduction

5

assigned to work on Japan was often seen as a thankless task, and this perception has increased under Putin: indeed I was told by one Russian diplomat in 2005 that he ‘felt sorry’ for his colleagues who worked on Japan. Russian academics wishing to write extensively on this theme were obliged to seek funding in the United States or Japan, and were often openly derided in Russia for doing so. The financial costs of publication in Russia were also prohibitively high in the 1990s, which, in addition to the dire financial straits experienced by many Russian academic institutes, severely constrained research in Russia. (There was often resentment of those who were able to obtain lucrative posts in the West, reflecting the poor pay and conditions of Russian academics.) Thus Vladimir Miasnikov’s account of the Russo-Chinese border, ‘Confirmed by articles of agreement. A diplomatic history of the Russo-Chinese border, from the XVII– XX century’, was initially self-financed, resulting in a very small print run and making it almost impossible to find in Moscow.19

Structure Chapter 2 is the first of three chapters on the development of Russia’s China policy after the collapse of the Soviet Union until the resignation of El’tsin at the end of 1999. The first of these looks at the broad development of bilateral political, economic and military relations in chronological fashion. The political relationship has been the driving force in relations, as economic developments failed to live up to expectations, while the military relationship became an important source of legitimacy for the Russian armed forces and the military–industrial complex. Arms sales began to be touted as a means of competing with the West, so much so that Russia even lowered its prices in order to secure its position in lucrative arms markets. Chapter 3 examines a new factor in relations: the Russian Far East in the context of the demarcation of the joint border. To a large extent this demarcation has been successful, but it is a case study in problems of centre-periphery relations. Various institutions, in particular the newly created Border Guards Service profited from the problems surrounding the border, such as the influx of Chinese migrant workers. Secessionist governors in the Russian Far East played on Moscow’s fears of separatism in order to extract financial concessions from the centre. The final chapter on China and Russia in the El’tsin period, Chapter 4, examines the evolution of interaction between Russia and China in the wider context, a crucial element of the vision of a multipolar world, which the two countries have so fervently embraced. There were shared concerns regarding regional security, in particular in Central Asia, and a sense of resentment vis-à-vis the West: but ultimately Russia tended to focus too much on China’s role as a counterweight to the West. Chapter 5 addresses Russian policy towards Japan since the collapse of the Soviet Union until the end of 1999 and El’tsin’s resignation. This chapter looks at the whole panoply of relations within the context of the territorial dispute, which has constrained relations for so long. The section seeks to measure how successful El’tsin’s administration was in steering Japan away from its insistent

6

Introduction

focus on the territorial issue and towards a broader canvas of cooperation. It examines also the competing influences of the different institutions for control of Russia’s Japan policy. Chapter 6 takes a look at Russo-Japanese bilateral relations in the global context. Previously Russia and Japan’s relations had been subordinated to their relations with the United States, but the emergence of China changed this constellation. In this second section, I suggest that the convergence of Russia and China may have a beneficial effect on the Russia–Japan relationship in the long term. However, the disequilibrium between the two states’ political and economic profiles may continue to hamper relations. To sum up the El’tsin era, I argue that the core of the problem in Russia’s relations with China and Japan was still predicated on Russian domestic politics. Russian resentment regarding Western economic pre-eminence and the perceived attempts to marginalise Russia as a great power continued to lie beneath the surface of Russian foreign policy. At the same time Russia did make some progress towards forging a new national identity and its own national interests, interests which did not always coincide with the West. The eastward enlargement of NATO after the Cold War exacerbated the sense of marginalisation, making cooperation with China a tempting prospect.

The Putin era Putin has been one of the most active presidents in diplomatic terms, attempting to pursue a ‘multivectored’ foreign policy, which entailed engaging on all fronts. His policies have been seen as taking Russian foreign policy to a more pragmatic level by contrast with the emotional unpredictability of the El’tsin years. The domestic in-fighting and clashes between different interest groups in the bureaucracy were less visible, mainly because Putin moved to ensure that the administration was peopled by those loyal to him – the so-called ‘Petersburg circle’. Putin has clamped down on the oligarchs who rose to influence under El’tsin, and this has been particularly noticeable in the economic sphere, specifically energy, where the state has moved to reassert ownership of strategic resources. This pragmatism has entailed a more hard-headed view of economic relations allied to the protection of national interests. Putin did not forsake the notion that Russia should be a great power, but it was as if the geopolitics and great power rhetoric of the El’tsin era had been stripped away to reveal a hole at the heart of Russian foreign policy. In one sense too, 9/11 appeared almost to eliminate Russian foreign policy altogether: Putin barely mentioned foreign policy in his annual address of 2002, and of Asia there was no mention at all.20 Domestic crises appeared for some time to take precedence: the Kursk disaster in 2001, the Moscow theatre siege in 2002, and the devastating siege at Beslan of 2004. The false hope engendered by 9/11 was that the USA would now assist Russia by accelerating its entry to the WTO, and abandoning NATO enlargement as Russia’s ‘reward’ for joining the antiterrorist alliance. Instead, Russia has had to accommodate what may be a very long term US presence in its Central Asian ‘backyard’.

Introduction

7

The Putin period can be roughly divided into two distinct periods: the first, from 2000–04, appeared to accept US unipolarity and was prepared to live with it, up to a point: this was in part because the ‘unipolar moment’ was seen as just that, a phenomenon that would not last. With the invasion of Iraq in 2003 however, the illusion was dispelled: the USA would act alone if necessary, and in defiance of the United Nations Security Council. As Jeanne Wilson says, there was a ‘pragmatic necessity’ for Putin to recognise the US claim to be the senior partner. However, from 2004 onwards, and in particular once Russia realised that oil prices were going to remain high for a substantial period, the Putin administration began to take a more assertive, strident tone, vis-à-vis the United States. US emphasis on democratisation and human rights, which had focused on Central Asia, but also had begun to focus on Putin’s increasingly authoritarian rule within Russia, led to strained relations. As the US National Security Strategy puts it, ‘stability and prosperity in Russia’s neighbourhood will help deepen our relations with Russia; but that stability will remain elusive as long as this region is not governed by effective democracies’.21 Russia seeks to characterise this approach as a deliberately divisive one: Putin is now attempting to present Russia as an alternative ‘standard-bearer’ of civilisation in the former Soviet Union and beyond.22 The ‘economisation’ that Bobo Lo was one of the first to draw attention to,23 has become more salient, indeed to the point where economics is becoming a substitute for policy. Geopolitics, and its twin, geoeconomics, have been elevated to a quasi-ideology: as one Russian academic notes, for Putin, geoeconomics has become ‘a special form of geopolitical projection: under the new global conditions, economic conflicts emerge as the key source of potential international hostilities’.24 Energy is now used as an instrument of statecraft and diplomacy, the so-called ‘energy weapon’: as one Russian news article put it, the Russian oil pipeline networks represent the ‘material equivalent of our geopolitics’ as they go ‘not only to the East, but also to the West’.25 Looking at Putin’s nationalism as a state-building project necessary for the modernisation of the Russian economy, then the economisation Lo talks of begins to make sense. The campaign to rein in the oligarchs who thrived under El’tsin meant that economic development was to be a ‘national task’ rather than the interests of individual companies, according to Putin.26 The ‘energy weapon’ is an attempt to use instruments of ‘soft power’, in Richard Pape’s words, ‘to delay, frustrate and undermine aggressive unilateral US policies’.27 For China too, under conditions of globalisation, soft power is becoming a useful way of countering US preponderance, thus economic levers, multilateral forums and international legal instruments, all take on increasing importance.28 However, as S. Neil MacFarlane rightly points out, in terms of soft power, ‘Russia faces significant limitations in any effort to seek influence on the basis of the attractiveness of its identity or its ideational/normative agenda, partly because it has yet to develop a widely shared domestic consensus on values and identity and therefore has little to export.’29 Border areas continued to be at the forefront of considerations in both economic and security terms, in particular in the context of strengthening

8

Introduction

sovereignty and independence. The need to transform the Russian Far East from a neglected outpost into a thriving economic resource-base was becoming more pressing: as Russia’s military power eroded, there were opportunities for Russia’s weakness to be exploited. In fact, many of the problems now facing the RFE federal okrug were so-called ‘soft threats’: this presented a new challenge for Russian foreign policy. Having demarcated the Sino-Russian border, the question would now be to what extent cross-border issues could be turned into opportunities for cooperation rather than merely coexistence. Migration issues and even environmental issues looked as if they were becoming securitised and enlisted in the cause of rebuilding Russian national identity and the state. These were the times of practical steps, when the maturity of the relationship would be tested; a true strategic partnership would be, as Lukin described it, one of ‘irreversible mutual dependence’. But it is precisely this dependence that has been the subject of debate: Russia fears becoming dependent on any of the regional powers. For this reason, Putin has moved to create more balance in Russia’s relations with Northeast Asia. Chapter 7 focuses on Putin’s policies towards China. As for relations with Japan, Putin’s ‘economisation’ of foreign policy suggested that he might be able to fashion some new initiatives vis-à-vis Japan, and these are examined in Chapter 8. Putin did attempt to make overtures to Japan particularly in the energy sector, but also on the territorial issue, while ensuring that Russian sovereignty and territorial integrity was upheld. One of the problems, particularly after the border demarcation with China in 2004, was to ensure that Japan did not seize on border talks with China as a precedent for the resolution of the dispute over the Kuril islands. Relations have, as usual, been periodically punctuated by disputes over fishing, which tend to increase tension over the territorial issue. It has continued to be difficult to construct a reservoir of trust and confidence in bilateral relations. It is also true that Russia is less likely to be amenable to compromise on the territorial issue via the economic route: for one, Russia’s economy was in a far more robust state than it had been under El’tsin, buoyed by high oil prices. The corollary was Russia’s greater political confidence, and in the international arena this translated into a greater assertiveness. *Note on transliteration from Russian: I have used the Library of Congress transliteration system throughout, thus El’tsin, not Yeltsin; Zhirinovskii, not Zhirinovsky. However, in a few instances I have not: e.g. Yukos, rather than Iukos.

2

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

When we have no ideological barriers, [. . .] when we pursue reforms, including market relations, there can be hardly found two other countries which have such mutual interest, such possibilities for cooperation in the economic, social, intellectual and, naturally political spheres . . . (Boris El’tsin)1

Bilateral political, military and economic relations The aim of this chapter is to give the broad outlines of the course of political and economic relations, mutual interests and potential areas of conflict in bilateral Russo-Chinese relations in the El’tsin period. This first section is divided into three main parts: the first is an account of the chronological development of relations focusing on political and economic issues. Subsequently, the military aspects of the Russo-Chinese relationship are discussed, before turning to the role of the Russian Far East border regions.

Political and economic relations The new Russia’s relations with China did not at first look promising. Diplomatic activity was initially focused on the main economic powers of the West, which appeared to downgrade China as a potential partner: Kozyrev remarked: ‘Whether we have a stabilization fund, and whether we enter the world economy depends on the G-7. . . . With all due respect, China is not a world economic leader for the time being.’2 Nevertheless, one year into El’tsin’s incumbency, the new state’s first summit was held in Beijing, rather than in Tokyo. The Beijing summit laid the foundations for a qualitatively new relationship largely devoid of ideological considerations and continued Gorbachev’s policy of engagement with China. The assertion that it was ‘largely by default that China became the chief object of Russian diplomacy in Northeast Asia’3 is not borne out by the evidence. While courting the West and Japan for economic reasons, the diplomatic ball had already started rolling in China’s direction as early as December 1991, when

10

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

Vladimir Lukin (as Chair of the RSFSR parliamentary committee on International Affairs) visited Beijing to show his understanding for ‘China’s concern that the exit of the USSR would leave the United States as the lone hegemon’.4

Views of the Russian elite on China While many drew attention to the dangers of neglecting China, the reasons cited were often very different. Some spoke of improving relations with China as a counterweight to the West, while more moderate, centrist voices emphasised the need for greater realism, as Russia could ‘no longer rely on being stronger than China in economic terms [. . .]’.5 Early articles by academics pointed to the need to accelerate the pace of relations with China, and Lukin (now Russia’s ambassador to the United States), stressed: ‘It would be bad if our Far Eastern policy were a kind of “residual” policy. It should be one of the most intensive, consistent policies and aimed at creating the kind of level of interdependence, above all with China, which would rule out in our complicated times any kind of chance circumstances [. . .].’6 The Foreign Ministry (MID) was accused of continuing and even exaggerating its Soviet predecessor’s ‘Euro-Americocentrism’,7 while ‘displaying a tendency to relegate the South and East to a minor position’.8 Others pointed to the fact that states such as China, Turkey and India were attempting to integrate into the world economy but ‘without losing face and while protecting their own interests’, while partnership with the West, and in particular Japan, entailed substantial strategic concessions and playing the role of junior partner.9 The reasons for the MID’s shunning of China are best described as a combination of lack of expertise (i.e. Kunadze and Kozyrev’s backgrounds) and the fact that in these early months El’tsin had placed too much of the burden of foreign policy making on the shoulders of the MID. It was not until the appointment of Pavel Grachev as Defence Minister in May 1992 and the establishment of a presidential Security Council (also in May), that the Foreign Ministry’s pre-eminent role in Russian foreign policy began to come under scrutiny. Igor’ Rogachev, an old China hand, was made ambassador to Beijing, but in the Kremlin there were few high level champions of rapprochement with China (a notable exception was Evgenii Primakov, head of the SVR, who early on drew attention to the need for a balanced policy in the East). Instead, in the first half of 1992 official policy towards China displayed a breathtaking degree of naiveté and clumsiness. Thus in March 1992 Kozyrev concluded that relations should be based on ‘pragmatism’, a pragmatism that in his view included developing ‘nongovernmental ties with Taiwan at the same level as most other countries without damage to political relations with China’.10 Nevertheless, the Chinese model of reform, in particular the free economic zones, such as the successful example of Shanghai, was championed by some as a model to emulate, in particular in order to revive Russia’s ailing Far East; their common border and mutually complementary economies made a perfect ‘fit’. Just as Gorbachev had been seeking a ‘way to bind the Soviet Union and China on the basis of common developments in domestic politics’,11 so too did El’tsin

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

11

come to realise that this was the surest way to convince both the Chinese leadership and his domestic critics that the pro-Western policy had been but a lull in the traditional, centuries-old friendship of two neighbours. Thus, the director of the Institute of the Far East, Mikhail Titarenko, wrote: ‘in Russia as in China the close connection between the internal economic reforms and open foreign policy defines the possibilities for their joint cooperation.’12 The industrial lobbyist and centrist politician Arkadii Vol’skii espoused reform ‘a la chinoise’: ‘Our situation is much closer to the Chinese experience than to the experience of any other country. We should study their experience in conducting land reform, as well as their experience in state support of the private sector with the help of laws, taxation, investments, etc. [. . .] We should also study the Chinese experience of setting up free-trading economic zones.’13 Conservative elements were keen to point out that the relationship with China ‘does not threaten us with the fate of a raw materials appendage to somebody’s industrial machine’.14 Others highlighted the importance of the fact that China had good relations with both the USA and Russia, thus serving as ‘a theoretical model of an independent foreign policy for Russia’.15 Hearings on Russian foreign policy held to scrutinise Kozyrev’s draft of the ‘Foreign Policy concept’ addressed the issue of China’s place in this ‘concept’. Vladimir Lukin advocated a balanced policy: ‘Russia’s relations with China are of particular importance, and due to their priority these relations must be placed on an equal footing with our European and American orientations.’16 The draft concept allotted priority status to relations with countries of the Asia-Pacific region as well as Southern and Western Asia, because, it argued, these countries were of great significance: for establishing our Eurasian status and in terms of achieving a balance in relations with the West and for diversifying foreign economic activity, and also as countries that, due to their geopolitical position, have a direct influence on the situation in the CIS17 [my italics].

China’s unchanging Moscow policy At the beginning of 1990, nearly two years before the collapse of the Soviet Union, Deng Xiaoping asserted: ‘Whatever changes take place in the Soviet Union, we should steadily expand relations with it, including political relations on the basis of the five principles of peaceful co-existence and refrain from arguing over ideological differences.’18 Nevertheless, the leadership in Beijing had not bargained for the collapse of the Soviet Union and the ascendancy of El’tsin, whose democratic credentials did not find favour with the regime in Beijing. China warned of a possible return to Tsarist imperialism, suspicious that Moscow could switch allegiance to the government on Taiwan, and fearing the overspill into Chinese society of reformist ideas.19 The Tiananmen experience, when students inspired by Gorbachev demonstrated against the regime, was still fresh in the leadership’s mind. In addition, the new Russia’s apparent intention to make itself an integral part of the West both politically and

12

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

economically posed the question of whether Moscow would join in the international condemnation of China’s human rights record. At first it seemed China’s fears might be realised, as Kozyrev declared Russia’s first priority as being ‘to ensure all human rights and freedoms in their entirety [. . .] I believe that these questions are not an internal matter of states but rather their obligations under the UN Charter, international covenants and conventions.’20 In any case, by 1993 in Russia ‘concern about human rights in the People’s Republic of China shrank to the circle of a few government officials and academics’.21 Once it was clear that Russia’s ‘flirtation’ with the West was over, the Chinese simply restated their original philosophy. Li Peng, in a report to the National People’s Congress (NPC) in 1992 spoke of China’s ‘good-neighbour policy’ as ‘an important component of China’s foreign policy’. The following year, again reporting to the NPC, Li noted that ‘friendly relations between China and its neighbouring countries are established on the basis of national interest, regardless of whatever differences there may be between their ideologies and political systems’.22 Prior to the 1995 parliamentary elections a Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesman stated that whatever the outcome China would adhere to the current course of ‘constructive partnership’.23 Chinese interests in cooperation with Russia were based on practical as well as strategic issues. Wan Li, the head of the Chinese parliament emphasised that ‘China’s economic development needs a peaceful international environment. Therefore, China is willing to live on good terms with all other countries.’24 Essential components of China’s security strategy were defence modernisation, the establishment of a regional security mechanism, and the development of ‘good-neighbour’ relations. The friendly relations between China and its neighbouring countries are established ‘on the basis of national interest, regardless of whatever differences there may be between their ideological and political spheres’.25 As David Lampton wrote, ‘Beijing’s foreign policy framework has been stable because it has its origins in China’s domestic goals and needs rather than in the international system itself.’26

State-to-state relations gather pace: the build-up to the first summit As we have seen, the issue of human rights did not hold sway over Russian foreign policy for long. The official report on Kozyrev’s visit to Beijing in March 1992 emphasised that while the two sides had different understandings of human rights they were ‘not inclined to let these differences put a brake on intergovernmental relations’.27 Accompanying Kozyrev on his trip was the Chairman of the State Committee for Foreign Economic Relations, Petr Aven, who expressed concern at the fall in trade between the two countries in 1991 in comparison to 1990. He noted, however, that the volume of decentralised and border trade had increased. An agreement on trade and economics as well as on MFN status for Russia was signed. In May Deputy Prime Minister Aleksandr Shokhin made a trip to Beijing for further talks on economic issues.28

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

13

Meanwhile, work on demarcating the border was begun, with the first session of the joint Russo-Chinese demarcation committee. Both sides recognised that this was a priority area for both states. Pressing issues related to border control and demarcation necessitated frequent and regular meetings which created a new momentum in political relations. The dynamism of cross-border trade took Russia slightly by surprise, but the high demand for Chinese products in the Russian Far East made it essential to exploit the potential in this type of trade. In August 2002, there was an eight-day visit to Russia by Qin Jiwei, Chinese Defence Minister, to discuss arms cuts in the APR, troop reductions on the joint border and arms sales. While problems on the demilitarisation and demarcation of the border remained, the infrastructure for dialogue was being established, an infrastructure noticeably lacking in relations with Japan. At this time the furore over the Kuril islands was reaching crisis point and it seemed less and less likely that El’tsin’s trip to Japan could bring either political or economic benefits. In this context the frequent military contacts between Russia and China and the pressing problem of border demarcation and demilitarisation and control and monitoring of cross-border trade, setting up customs posts and so on, entailed contact on an almost daily basis. The military exchanges facilitated the establishment of trust and cooperation, a feature distinctly lacking in Russia’s dealings with Japan. During 1992 (not including the December summit meeting) there were at least ten visits exchanged between Russia and China concerning some aspect of military cooperation, whether arms sales, exchange of aircraft personnel, or discussions on nuclear technology. Apart from Kozyrev’s brief sojourn in Beijing in the early part of the year there had been few meetings in the economic and political sphere – it was the military and the industrialists who were setting the agenda. It was not until November, in meetings to prepare for the summit that wider issues of cooperation began to appear. Importantly, in his meeting with Kozyrev, Chinese Foreign Minister Qian Qichen stressed that China and Russia had common interests in preserving stability in Central Asia and that China’s plans to establish economic relations with these states would take into account their close links with Russia. Kozyrev appeared grateful too that Qian understood the need to curb Islamic fundamentalism in Central Asia and the importance of the CIS in this regard.29 As El’tsin faced growing criticism from the Supreme Soviet of his and Kozyrev’s pro-Western policy, the chance to make political capital out of the forthcoming visit to China, and shortly afterwards India, was tempting. El’tsin now set about criticising Kozyrev’s ministry, emphasising the need for a ‘multivector’ foreign policy that would pay equal attention to both East and West.30 However, the growth in trade turnover with China was unexpectedly high, so that the Foreign Ministry was now able to parry charges that the economic crisis was hampering trade by pointing to the flourishing economic relationship.31 1992 saw trade rise to a record high of US$5.8 billion, imports of Chinese goods making up the larger part of this figure.32 While China’s trade with Russia was minimal compared to trade turnover with the United States and Japan, Russia represented an important market for cheap consumer products from the adjacent

14

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

areas of Heilongjiang and Jilin. As John Garver stressed, the landlocked interior of greater China needs to ‘look to its landward neighbours’ in order to emulate the success of its coastal regions.33

The Taiwan question The Russian MID had seriously underestimated the sensitivity of the Taiwan issue for bilateral relations. In January 1992, a delegation from Taiwan visited Moscow, prompting speculation that this might herald a change in the Kremlin’s China policy. In an attempt to limit the damage, the Russian MID issued a statement insisting that the delegation had been invited privately and not by the government and emphasising that El’tsin’s administration viewed Taiwan as an inalienable part of China.34 However, this was not the end of the matter. On 9 September 1992 a committee was established to deal with cultural and commercial affairs with Taiwan, headed by the industrialist Oleg Lobov. The committee was apparently ‘non-governmental’, but as Evgenii Bazhanov has pointed out, ‘China wanted to know why Yeltsin had created an unofficial committee by decree and why it comprised so many government officials’.35 El’tsin acted swiftly, and issued a clear statement: In relations with Taiwan the Russian Federation proceeds from the premise that there is only one China. The PRC government is the only lawful government representing the whole of China. Taiwan is an inalienable part of China. The Russian Federation does not maintain official interstate relations with China.36 Nevertheless, only two days after El’tsin’s decree Lobov went ahead with the visit, issuing a statement prior to his departure to the effect that maintaining and developing economic and trade relations with the PRC was important, but that the trip to Taiwan would not ‘cause any indignation on the part of Beijing’.37 As one journalist noted, El’tsin’s decree closed ‘an unfortunate page in our relations, when a semiofficial agency for contacts with Taiwan was created under Russian Federation governmental structures without the knowledge of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and subsequently disbanded’.38 Once Russia had assured China of its adherence to the ‘one China’ policy the preparations for the summit could proceed.

December 1992: the first Russo-Chinese summit Just before leaving for Beijing El’tsin noted that some accused his government of ‘americanization, of looking towards the West all the time, that is why we are now making the second break-through into the Asian-Pacific Ocean region after the visit to the Republic of Korea’.39 Later, at a press conference in the Chinese capital, El’tsin expressed surprise at the calm reaction to the summit from Tokyo, revealing the extent to which Russia was now viewing this visit as compensation for the lack of success in the relationship with Tokyo.40

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

15

Certainly there were many agreements signed at the summit, 24 to be precise, but none of these were in themselves spectacular. In many cases they simply codified what was already the status quo. However, various subcommittees were established which would hold regular consultations and sustain the level of diplomatic activity: these included an intergovernmental commission on trade–economic and scientific–technical cooperation. The Chinese pressed for the commission to tackle the problems of cross-border trade such as increasing transport capacities and the number of passport controls.41 These moves were important because they sought to increase government control over spontaneous trading activity, which of course could lose the government important tax and excise revenue. In addition, Shokhin noted the significance of establishing control over the transfer of military technology, as there had been several cases of private individuals attempting to conclude deals on private visits.42

A ‘balanced’ foreign policy The new course of Russian foreign policy in Asia was re-emphasised on El’tsin’s visit to India at the beginning of 1993 where he stressed that Russo-Chinese rapprochement did not in any way mean a choice between one or other country: ‘Russian–Chinese relations are part of the main channel of our Asian policy. The principle of squeezing some other country out of it is absolutely unacceptable...’43 Bearing in mind the old animosity between China and India, this statement may well have been intended to calm Indian fears of being downgraded by Moscow in favour of Beijing. However, the deliberate vagueness of the statement could also be interpreted as a sign to Japan that Russia intended to keep its options open in Asia. The final draft of the Foreign Policy Concept further underlined the point: ‘Russia’s relations with China should be such that third countries will not be tempted to use China against Russia, and vice-versa, that China will not be tempted to use the “Russian card” in its relations with other countries.’44 High-level exchanges of visits in 1993 were again dominated by senior officials from the military and industrial spheres. Meetings in the political sphere were confined to a meeting between Kunadze and the head of the PRC chancellery for political questions, and a brief meeting between Kozyrev and the Chinese ambassador to Moscow. April saw the visit to Russia of the Commander-in-Chief of China’s navy and it is likely that at this time negotiations were begun on the sale to China of Kilo class submarines. In May the commander of the Leningrad Military district visited Beijing to discuss further military cooperation. June saw a further visit of Chinese naval officials to Moscow for talks on the submarine deal, and at the beginning of July Russian naval officials were then invited to Beijing as guests of the Chinese Ministry of Defence. A five-day visit to Russia by Colonel-General Liu Huaqing, vicechairman of the Central Military Commission, included visits to Vladivostok to inspect the Pacific Fleet and meetings with Shokhin and Chernomyrdin to discuss industrial and scientific cooperation and defence conversion. In August, the Chinese Chief of General Staff of the PLA arrived, moving Grachev to

16

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

declare that relations with the PRC were ‘one of the priorities of Russia’s military policy’.45 The frenzy of military contacts obscured unresolved issues such as the increase in Chinese pirate attacks on Russian vessels in the East China seas. A Foreign Ministry spokesman noted that Russian offers of talks to discuss the safety of sea-lanes were going unheeded by the Chinese.46 An increase in illegal Chinese migration to the Russian Far East was also causing tension that required urgent attention. Thus, while 1994 was again marked by a substantial number of visits by military officials, there was an increase in discussions of political and economic questions, including the question of the border regime. Trade turnover in 1993 was the highest ever, reaching more than $7 billion in total. However, it was clear that a high proportion of the turnover consisted of cross-border trade, and the clampdown by Russian authorities on Chinese ‘shuttle merchants’ meant that 1994 showed a significant downturn in trade turnover, reflecting the sharp fall in imports of Chinese goods. The fact that turnover fell well below the high of 1993 until the year 2000, when it reached just over $8 billion, was evidence of the still primitive nature of Sino-Russian trade (see Table 2.1). Shokhin was outspoken in his condemnation of Chinese trading methods: ‘Without a departure from the barter scheme, which allows a couple of Chinese companies to dictate prices and choice of goods, we shall fail to keep trade with China on a proper level.’47 (See Table 2.1.) A concerted effort in 1995 regarding the border regime meant that trade crept back up, albeit by a modest amount. However, it was becoming clear that the structure of trade was not benefiting the local economies of the Far East at least not in terms of restructuring the economy. Increasingly exports to China were composed mainly of raw materials and industrial products. There was the bizarre situation in Primorskii krai where, as Ivan Rybkin noted, ‘while local residents and enterprises endure a fuel crisis, large amounts of coal and oil products are exported to Japan and China’.48 Thus, the argument that rapprochement with China ensured Russia would escape becoming ‘a raw materials appendage’ was questionable. In April 1994, a few months before the second Russo-Chinese summit, hearings were held on Russo-Chinese relations in the State Duma. Aleksandr Panov, Table 2.1 Russia–China trade, 1992–99 Year

Exports ($bn)

Imports ($bn)

Total ($bn)

1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999

3.52 4.98 3.50 3.80 5.15 4.09 3.64 4.22

2.34 2.69 1.58 1.66 1.69 2.03 1.84 1.50

5.86 7.67 5.08 5.46 6.84 6.12 5.48 5.72

Source: IMF Direction of Trade Statistics, various years.

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

17

Deputy Foreign Minister, addressed the hearings and stressed that goodneighbourly relations with China were one of the main priorities in Russian foreign policy. Panov warned, however, that China should not be viewed as a counterweight or an alternative to the West.49 The second ‘Strategy for Russia’ by the influential Council on Foreign and Defence Policy was published around the same time, and claimed that there was diminishing attention paid to Russia in world affairs.50

The second summit: from ‘good-neighbourliness’ to ‘constructive partnership’ According to the joint declaration issued at the summit meeting of September 1994, Russo-Chinese relations had now reached the stage of ‘constructive partnership, genuinely equal relations of good-neighbourliness, friendship and mutually profitable cooperation, based on the principles of peaceful coexistence’. It was emphasised that these relations did not have the character of an alliance and were not ‘directed against a third country’.51 However, the constructive partnership could not disguise the fact that trade had fallen drastically from a high of over $7 billion to only $5 billion (the MFEA had projected $8 billion.52) – this was due mainly to a sharp fall in imports of Chinese goods. The two sides emphasised that economic relations still had ‘enormous potential, the effective use of which is capable of playing an important role in the economic development of both countries’. As if to compensate for the miserable state of economic relations, the declaration contained a particularly detailed section on international relations including a clause on the ‘inadmissibility of displays of expansionism, hegemonism, the politics of force or the creation of opposing blocs’.53 Those who wished to place a positive gloss on the declaration, such as the conservative newspaper Pravda, wistfully speculated whether the words ‘friendship’ and ‘constructive partnership’ were a ‘return to the Russian–Chinese political lexicon from the romantic era of the distant 1950s’. Once again Lukin stressed that the only way to ensure substance and interdependence in the economic relationship was to make Russia and China so dependent on each other that any split would be ‘unacceptably painful to both countries’.54 (At hearings on Russian foreign policy in 1992 Lukin had described this as a relationship of ‘irreversible mutual dependence’.55) Addressing Chinese business circles in Beijing that year, Viktor Chernomyrdin, noting the drop in trade turnover, had called for ‘new forms of interaction’, namely investments by the Chinese, joint exploration of Russian natural resources, and construction of infrastructure facilities in the Russian Far East.56 However, previous Chinese investment in Russia had consisted mainly in the setting up of joint ventures with very small amounts of authorised capital. For example, in 1992 the number of Chinese joint ventures in Russia was 46, with a total authorised capital of 55,681 million roubles, while Japan, with 43 JVs, had a far higher total authorised capital of 138,266 million roubles.57 The main activity of the Chinese JVs was ‘the extraction of extra profits from price differentials for raw materials and

18

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consumer goods between the two countries’.58 By 1995 China did not even make an appearance in the list of main investors cited by Goskomstat, while in 1997 it was unable to match even Japan’s meagre share of total investment – just over 1 per cent.59 The summit planned for autumn 1995 failed to take place due to El’tsin’s illness, but there were numerous exchanges of visits encompassing all aspects of bilateral relations. No doubt with one eye on the upcoming parliamentary elections, Gennadii Ziuganov, leader of the KPRF, and Grigorii Iavlinskii of Iabloko, both made trips to China before the end of the year. May saw the visit to Beijing of the Defence Minister Grachev, who called for the creation of a multilateral security alliance, a proposal swiftly rebutted by his Chinese hosts,60 who were no doubt wary of the similarity to Brezhnev’s conception of an Asian collective security pact mooted in 1969. Meanwhile border issues were becoming pressing: demilitarisation was making little progress due to differences over the exact location of the demilitarised zone, while the launch of the Border Guards’ campaign, ‘Operation Foreigner’ the previous year had had further adverse effects on cross-border trade. Nevertheless, on the occasion of Li Peng’s trip to Moscow in June 1995 it was claimed that ‘complete political unanimity’ existed between the ‘two great powers’. Russia reiterated its stance as a staunch supporter of the ‘one China’ concept, while China endorsed Russia’s invasion of Chechnia by stating that it had ‘complete understanding of the actions taken by the Russian side to preserve the country’s unity’.61 It was becoming increasingly common for Russian politicians to refer to the two countries as the ‘two great powers’: as Chernomyrdin and Li Peng declared, ‘the two great powers have no need of lectures to run their own lives’.62 This approach was demonstrated by Russia’s refusal to vote in favour of a European Union resolution in the United Nations condemning China’s human rights record. The reason given for the vote at the time was that Russia could not disregard the explanations of the Chinese that adoption of the resolution would have a ‘destabilising character for the internal situation in China [...]’ Finally, the MID briefing noted that ‘as distinct from other countries, [...], Russia and China have, over the last three years conducted an open bilateral dialogue on human rights’.63

Concern over NATO expansion By autumn 1995, it had become clear that the West intended to proceed with the eastward expansion of NATO and there were calls for Russia to respond by finding ‘new allies’.64 In propaganda terms, it was more than ever vital to portray the relationship with China in a positive light. As the China expert Andrei Voskresenskii observed, the MID was pushing the ‘soft variant’ of friendly relations with China.65 A wide-ranging consensus emerged that saw the proposed expansion of NATO as a threat to Russian security, and essentially as a betrayal by the West. Lukin, although a moderate centrist, spoke of a possible Russian response that could include the ‘formation of a strategic union between Russia and China and other eastern countries [. . .]’66

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

19

In bilateral relations, the coincidence of views on international problems was constantly emphasised, while ‘reservations’ regarding economic relations were relegated to a footnote. The final trade figures for 1995 were only slightly higher than the previous year’s and this was almost entirely due to Russian exports to China of raw materials, while imports from China had shown little recovery. The extent of concern regarding the potential damage that could be caused by media coverage of negative trends such as the state of economic relations, and problems regarding Chinese migration was evidenced in meetings between heads of Russian and Chinese media groups. Russian and Chinese Foreign Ministry officials exhorted their respective media to provide more ‘positive reports’ of internal reforms in China and Russia, as well as of bilateral relations in general. Particular attention was devoted to the fact that ‘at the present stage it is extremely important not to allow separate issues of controversy, and in particular the growing political ambitions of certain individuals (a reference perhaps to the activities of certain regional governors), seeking to undermine the benevolent climate of relations between the two states’.67 It was clear that the relationship was to be sustained by sheer political will, if nothing else. 1996: from ‘constructive partnership’ to ‘strategic cooperation’ Thus in his annual address to the Federal Assembly in February 1996, El’tsin was able to take comfort in the relationship with China, while warning of geopolitical changes for Russia linked to NATO expansion. While expressing disquiet at attempts to undermine or directly interfere with ‘legitimate Russian interests in the CIS’, he referred by way of contrast to the agreement on confidencebuilding measures around the Sino-Russian border.68 The ‘eastern’ orientation of Russian foreign policy was now firmly entrenched, and El’tsin was to be aided in this by his new Foreign Minister Evgenii Primakov, appointed in January 1996. Primakov was an orientalist and a staunch advocate of a balanced foreign policy: ‘A power like Russia, with enormous interests in Asia and the Middle East, cannot walk on just one – “Western” – leg.’69 1996 proved another testing time for Russian foreign policy, as April saw the renewal of the US–Japan alliance in the wake of Chinese military posturing in the Taiwan straits. Russia’s relations with Japan were in stasis, and following hard on the heels of plans for NATO expansion, the pledge to renew another Cold War alliance seemed a double blow. The third Sino-Russian summit in April 1996 was thus held against this backdrop, in an atmosphere of unprecedented cordiality, with the two sides declaring their intention to develop relations of an ‘equal, trusting partnership aimed at strategic cooperation in the twenty-first century’.70 By the time of the fourth summit in April 1997, spurred on by the relatively high trade figures of 1996 – $6.8 billion – both sides now pledged to increase trade turnover by the end of 1997 to at least US$7 billion (the figure reached in 1993), and to $20 billion by the end of the century. However, the decision to conduct trade in convertible currency (from 1996) may have been the reason for

20

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the sharp fall in Chinese exports to Russia the following year. The highlight of the 1997 summit was the ‘Russo-Chinese Joint Declaration on a Multipolar World and the Formation of a New World Order’. Among other issues, the two sides affirmed their opposition to any attempts by one state to ‘strive for hegemony or conduct politics from a position of force and monopolise international affairs’.71 Nevertheless, despite the concurrence of views on international issues there were growing signs of strain as the economic relationship struggled to keep pace with the political and military one. Hopes of reaching the trade turnover of $7 billion by the end of 1997 were dashed, the final total according to Goskomstat amounting to a mere $5.24 billion.72 Of this figure, only $1.26 billion accounted for Chinese imports, although according to the Primore regional administration’s department for foreign trade, undocumented illegal imports accounted for an additional $3.6 billion a year.73 China’s huge trade turnover with Japan of $60 billion, and with the USA of $43 billion in 1997, highlighted the small volume of its trade with Russia.74 Thus, towards the end of 1997 both sides began criticising the low level of trade. China was disappointed by the Russians’ growing lack of enthusiasm for their often shoddy consumer goods, while Russia was irritated by China’s rejection of a Russian bid to supply equipment to the Three Gorges hydroelectric project. In addition, there had been optimism that Russia would be able to earn billions of dollars by building nuclear power plants in China, but due to fears that haggling over prices might mean China would put out the projects to general tender, Russia simply lowered its prices. Viktor Mikhailov, Minister for Atomic Energy, bemoaned this state of affairs, complaining of Beijing’s newfound ‘cold pragmatism’.75 Meanwhile, there were high hopes of the Russo-Japanese ‘meeting without neckties’ in Krasnoiarsk in December 1997. A closer relationship with Japan would mean that Russia’s Asian policy would no longer be ‘walking on one – Chinese – leg’, to borrow Primakov’s phrase. Whether Japan could offer more than China in economic and political terms was a different matter. It was, in any case, clear that there would be no rejection of China in favour of Japan, for the core of the Sino-Russian relationship could not be reduced to economic relations alone. The disappointing economic relationship was offset by the attention paid to global issues at the following year’s summit in November 1998. In particular the joint declaration emphasised the problems that could arise from globalisation and interdependence, as well as ‘attempts at using currency and financial levers to impose political and economic conditions which infringe upon the legitimate national interests of a particular country.’76 Russia and China also signalled their intention to increase efforts to curb ethnic separatism and religious extremism. As we shall see, these concerns were voiced increasingly often as the crisis in Kosovo deepened. The final Sino-Russian summit of El’tsin’s incumbency, just a few weeks before his resignation, was informed by both Kosovo and the second invasion of Chechnia. The Joint Declaration that came out of the 1999 summit made little or no mention of bilateral economic or political issues: with the US announcement of its intention to abrogate the ABM treaty and the events

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

21

in Kosovo, both Beijing and Moscow were caught off-guard. However, there were signs that Russia and China were becoming increasingly vocal about the US role in international affairs, and the use of force to safeguard human rights (Kosovo). The Declaration specifically pointed to ‘attempts to weaken the role of the United Nations’ as well as ‘the seeking of excuses to give irresponsible interpretations of the substance and principles of the UN Charter [. . .]’ and finally, ‘the jeopardizing of the sovereignty of independent states using the concepts of “human rights are superior to sovereignty” and “humanitarian intervention” ’.77 The two sides drew attention to the development of the Shanghai ‘Five’, specifically the meeting of law-enforcement heads and defence ministers, to be held in 2000, as well as the eventual meeting of foreign ministers (in line with the Bishkek Declaration of August 1999). The final section declared their mutual support for the preservation of state unity, sovereignty and territorial integrity. The next section will examine the issue of Russo-Chinese military cooperation.

The economics of military cooperation The trade in arms would seem at first glance to be one of the few bright spots in the two countries’ economic relationship. Kozyrev’s sojourn in Beijing in March 1992 was brief, and his remarks on human rights seemed at odds with Moscow’s apparent willingness to continue arms transfers, as evidenced by the CIS Chief of Staff Valerii Samsonov, who the previous month had rushed to Beijing to reassure the Chinese that deliveries would not be affected by the USSR’s collapse.78 After Kozyrev and Aven’s trips to Beijing, the exchange of visits by Chinese and Russian military officials increased at a startling pace. April saw the visit to Russia of the head of the PLA’s General Logistics Department, Zhao Nanqi, to discuss arms purchases while the Deputy Commander of the Russian Air Force travelled to the PRC for an exchange of air force personnel. As Bates and Kim point out, military cooperation consisted of three components: talks on demilitarising the border, which had begun way back in 1989; the ‘institutionalized military relationship’ which had already begun in 1990 with fairly highlevel visits; the third component was discussion of technology and weapons transfers. At least ten exchanges of visits took place in 1992 on matters related to defence and military technology, including a visit by Viktor Mikhailov, the Minister for Atomic Energy in November.79 After a visit by China’s Defence Minister, Egor Gaidar, acting Russian Premier, noted the dynamism of SinoRussian military and technical ties as evidence that both were now overcoming their previously confrontational relations, which would strengthen their geopolitical positions in the long term.80 Domestic factors in both countries were pointing to the wisdom of maintaining arms deliveries: since Tiananmen the Chinese had lost American and French supplies. Moreover, when in December 1992 a furore erupted over France’s sale of 60 Mirage fighter aircraft to Taipei81 this must have been an important signal to Moscow that its decision not to sell arms to Taiwan and to draw a veil over

22

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human rights issues by continuing, and even upgrading arms sales, was the right way to forge a new relationship with China. Moreover, by 1992 ‘China’s economy was booming and the government, and especially the PLA had money to address some of the PLA’s deficiencies’.82 Hence El’tsin’s statement at the December 1992 summit: ‘We proceed from the basis that today China is one of the most solvent countries in the world.’83 Strangely, Shokhin appeared to contradict El’tsin’s confidence in China’s solvency: ‘It is very difficult to predict the volume of this cooperation in 1993 and its dynamics, because the Chinese side is short of hard currency and the Russians do not want to exchange armaments for jackets and sports shoes.’84 The biggest single arms deal was the sale to China of 26 Su-27s, a deal concluded in 1990 under Gorbachev, although the contract was not agreed until nearly a year later, and the aircraft were not delivered until 1992. A second batch of 22 Su-27s was ordered between 1992 and 1993, but was not delivered until 1995–96, as the delivery was delayed by unresolved issues regarding payment terms: ‘Russia insisted that 70 per cent or more of the payment be made in hard currency, compared to 35 per cent for the first batch of Su-27s in 1992.’85 The new Deputy Defence Minister, Andrei Kokoshin, visited China in October 1992 and helped lay the foundation for transferring production rights to the Chinese. In an interview shortly after his appointment, he had drawn attention to the severe problems facing the defence industry. By the time of the December 1992 summit, arms exports were described by the MID as ‘a major lever of the transformation of Russia’s economy on the basis of market relations’. At the same time, it was noted that other major armsexporting countries needed to ‘step back and open up more export possibilities for Russia’.86 In general, there was widespread concern that Russia had ‘yielded’ its position as a major arms supplier to countries like the United States. This was depicted not only as a financial, but also a serious strategic loss. Viktor Glukhikh, chairman of Gosoboronprom vowed that Russia would never leave the world arms market, declaring Russia’s yielding of its former ‘positions’ as ‘abnormal’. According to Glukhikh, in 1989 the USSR led the global market in arms exports, with a share amounting to 38.7 per cent. By January 1993, this had dropped to 17 per cent, while the USA had increased its share of arms exports over the same period from 30 per cent in 1989 to 56 per cent in 1992.87 The drive for hard currency earnings to prop up the ailing defence industry led Mikhail Malei, adviser on defence conversion to remark: ‘To Russia, the export of military hardware will be profitable even if we sell it cheaper than world prices by a factor of six.’88 According to Sergey Kortunov the principle of ‘sell to anybody who pays’ was already being given priority in the Gorbachev period.89 El’tsin was convinced of the necessity of exporting arms to China, declaring that Russia was ‘prepared to trade on all fronts, including in the area of the latest up-to-date weapons’.90 China’s interest in purchasing arms was detailed in a ‘secret report’ of the Chinese Communist Party’s Military Commission, which instructed the government to increase purchases of weapons from the former

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

23

Soviet Union and increase China’s sales to Third World countries. The report noted that this strategy would mean saving valuable currency reserves, adding that the military budget for 1992 had been increased by 40 per cent from the previous year.91 However, there were signs that the Russian foreign policy establishment was not at first entirely happy with the defence industry’s drive to sell more weapons to China. In an article published at the beginning of December 1992, Kozyrev warned of the dangers of ‘pursuing “easy dollars” from military deliveries without taking into account the political consequences’. He concluded optimistically that Russia was ‘gradually accustoming Western partners to the thought that they will have to make room in the markets, including the hightechnology and arms markets’.92 Kozyrev made the same point again in February 1993 in a speech to the Supreme Soviet, noting the need to monitor ‘structures which are independently rushing into the arms markets often without taking proper account of security interests, secrecy or even maintaining adequate prices’.93 The defence industry plants themselves complained that state weapons orders did not benefit them, as payment was in roubles, so that there were problems paying wages. Bureaucratic procedures in approving military exports were slow and cumbersome, and required as many as nine different signatures from the relevant ministries, including the Ministry of Security and the SVR, which apparently could take between eight and 15 months to collect. In view of this state of affairs, defence industry directors stated their intention to trade independently in arms produced over and above state orders.94 The president of the state weapons company ‘Spetsvneshtekhnika’, V. Brailovskii, outlined the new commercialism of Russia’s arms trading policy citing the example of Pakistan: We are trying to ‘refresh’ our relations. Commercial contacts with the former probable enemy facilitate this to a certain degree. At the same time, we count on India appreciating our position: it is better for us to sell weapons to Pakistan than for the United States to deliver weapons there. After all deliveries bind producers to customers: materiel requires repairs, spare parts. . . . Brailovskii went on: ‘If they do not buy from us they will buy from others. If we withdraw from the previously developed markets to which we are still holding on, they will certainly be taken over by foreign competitors.’95 The drive to compete with the West increased as Russia came into conflict with the United States over arms sales to countries such as Malaysia, Iraq and Cyprus. Thus, Shokhin declared Russia’s intention to continue to denounce the ‘dishonest competition methods’ used by the United States in the world arms markets, quoting US opposition to Malaysia’s purchase of MiG-29 fighter planes.96 A brief report in Krasnaia zvezda in summer 1993 cited Kokoshin, who spoke of military and technical cooperation with China as being a ‘necessity’ for Russian industry.97 The official Foreign Ministry line on arms sales to China was

24

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that it represented ‘a normal part of bilateral relations, conducted via state structures and under the requisite control’.98 Meanwhile, the head of ‘Oboroneksport’, Sergei Karaoglanov, was accused in 1993 of ‘allowing Russia’s positions to weaken’.99 Meeting with the Chinese Chief of General Staff in August that year, Grachev stressed that relations with the PRC were ‘one of the priorities of Russia’s military policy’. He specifically emphasised the fact that determining China’s military–technical requirements would make it possible to ‘plan the load on the Russian Federation defence industry and to a certain extent to maintain a number of enterprises in China’s interests’.100 The debate over whether defence plants should be allowed to take responsibility for exporting their own products was conducted by a myriad of interested parties. Vice-President Aleksandr Rutskoi accused Kozyrev of actively blocking ‘advantageous deals’ to sell Su-27s. According to the director of one defence plant, Kozyrev was to blame for losing a major deal with Libya, which subsequently bought instead from the United States, as well as ruining negotiations with Taiwan for the purchase of 150 Su-27s. When Kozyrev countered that the latter deal could not go ahead because the Russian Federation did not recognise Taiwan as a sovereign state, Rutskoi retorted: ‘Such considerations are not of great importance for the Americans: they have sold their F-16 aircraft to Taiwan.’ Finally, Rutskoi concluded that Russia had lost US$15 billion in failed deals over the previous year, which was ‘several times greater than $2.5 billion which the G-7 countries promised to grant Russia during the Tokyo summit’.101 The most controversial aspect of the Russo-Chinese military relationship was the sale to China of a licence for production of Su-27 fighter planes. In April 1996, El’tsin apparently agreed to transfer a third batch of 18 S-27s and in principle to begin producing the aircraft under licence in China.102 This brought the total number of aircraft sold to China to 72. According to one Russian analyst however this does not square with the facts – there was no confirmation of a third batch. The same analyst noted too that the sale of the production licence was not as big a coup as had been claimed: the licence entitled China to produce 200 aircraft and no more, without the right of re-export to a third country.103 In fact, the programme for the production deal was in two stages, the first being local assembly from kits produced in Russia, and the second being full local production with the licence covering production of between 90 and 100 aircraft, but according to Aleksandr Sergounin and Sergey Subbotin, ‘most observers say production will probably be half that, beginning at a rate of ten to twenty per year’.104 In any case, some argued, Russia was moving to a new generation of fighter plane, which it had refused to sell to China.105 There were those who argued that selling the production licences would mean a loss of hard currency for the defence industry, depriving them of serial production and future revenue. Others, including El’tsin and Grachev, were sanguine that China would not use these weapons against Russia. Further deals with China included the sale of four Kilo class submarines, concluded in late 1994, two being delivered in 1995 and two in 1997, but estimates

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

25

of the price paid by the Chinese vary. Bates and Kim cite a figure of $250 million each,106 but others reckon the price to have been only $90 million per unit, while Germany had apparently sold equivalent submarines for more then $200 million each.107 It was also not clear what the final number of submarines would be. Western estimates often state that China has purchased higher numbers – one analyst maintained that China was due to purchase an additional 12 submarines by the end of the century.108 Further naval equipment was purchased by the Chinese in early 1997; two Sovremenny class destroyers were sold to China, apparently at below market prices. According to an anonymous Russian government source, the Chinese ‘groundlessly lower prices and refuse to co-ordinate pricing methods’, resulting in the difference between the buyer and seller price for the destroyers adding up to as much as $100 per ship.109 The substantial decline in Russo-Chinese trade turnover in 1997 was blamed on the slowdown in arms sales. As to the strategic implications of these sales, it is certain that the Kilo class submarines and the destroyers will add to China’s naval projection capabilities. The submarines are apparently the best of this type in the world, their main advantage consisting in their extraordinarily quiet acoustics, making them extremely difficult to detect.110 The destroyers, while not the newest type, are a significant purchase due to the fact that they normally carry up to eight ‘Moskit’ surface-to-surface missiles as their main armament. According to one report the Chinese have requested 24 launchers on each ship.111 The purchases in the naval sphere have not been large but it should be noted that China has major shipbuilding capabilities of its own, so much so that one Russian naval officer asserted that despite the small volume of naval technology purchased, China could eventually ‘rearm those submarines with cruise missiles and missiletorpedoes’112 of their own design. As part of the overall renewal of the PLA, naval modernisation is certainly a priority. However, most analysts are in agreement that for China to upgrade from a brown coastal to a blue water navy will take a considerable period of time: ‘The Chinese navy will remain until and beyond 2015 – an antiquated coastal navy.’113 The argument that arms sales would facilitate the revival of Russia’s defence industry is a tenuous one in particular as most of the arms deals with China have been at least partially on a barter basis. A report in Komsomol’skaia pravda cited the example of one factory that had sold submarines to China, according to the director ‘on quite crushing terms’. The report claimed that Deputy Prime Minister Shokhin had signed an agreement with the Chinese stipulating that the Chinese were entitled to pay for 65 per cent of the cost of armaments in the form of goods. The director of the factory in question refused to sign on these terms and finally accepted 50–50. However the goods received under the deal’s terms were apparently ‘old junk’, and the plant saw little of the foreign currency once it had paid duty, the Navy for taking the submarines to China, and the Central Design Bureau for planning.114 The manager of another factory complained that 65 per cent of the contract was paid for in running shoes and sandals whose soles came off within a month.115 This, combined with the continuing low level

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of arms exports, meant it became progressively difficult to claim that Russia had made the transition to a real arms trade based on market relations. The fact that Russia continued to accept barter deals from the Chinese leads one to suspect that there were few other major purchasers of Russian arms (India being an exception). In December 1996 the joint commission for arms trade and related services agreed on a new payment basis in hard currency for arms sales to China,116 but apparently this still did not guarantee full payment in hard currency, as the agreement stipulated: ‘The Russian party shall use a portion of the funds paid by the Chinese Party in freely convertible currency to purchase Chinese goods and services on the territory of the People’s Republic of China.’117 Despite the low volume of arms exports officials continued to tout arms sales as a measure of Russian influence. Thus El’tsin in his annual address to the Federal Assembly for 1996, drew particular attention to the fact that Russia had ‘penetrated’ the markets of the ASEAN countries, in particular the arms markets.118 Sceptics merely noted that ‘for our poverty-stricken MIC, whose orders have “shrunk” by comparison with the mid-1980s fifteen-fold, any entry onto the world arms market is today a cause for celebration’.119 In sum, although Chinese imports of Russian weapons began to decline after 1997, China remained Russia’s largest client: thus, in 1991 China’s share of Russian arms exports was only 3 per cent, compared to India’s 29 per cent, but by 1992 China’s share had already shot up to 37 per cent, against India with 35 per cent. However, there were no arms deliveries to China at all in 1994 and in 1995 its share was only 11 per cent, while India’s was 21 per cent. 1996 was a bumper year for Russian arms sales to China, a massive 40 per cent of all Russian arms exports.120 Nevertheless, despite the fact that Russia maintained second place in the world rankings of the 30 major suppliers of conventional weapons, the volume remained small compared to the world’s leading supplier, the United States. In 1996 for example, a good year for Russian arms exports, the figure was still only $3.90 billion against $9.26 billion US sales. The aggregate figures for 1993–97 show that the United States sold $53.13 billion dollars worth with Russia trailing behind with $15.25 billion.121 Despite Aleksandr Kotelkin’s pledge that Russia could ‘come close’ to US export figures, Russia reached only $3.5 billion in 1997, while its competitor attained $10.8 billion, an increase over the previous year.122 Figures for 1998 suggested that Russia’s arms sales were beginning a downward spiral, with the United States surging ahead with sales of $21 billion worth of arms (49 per cent of the market) and Russia’s sales down to $2.5 billion dollars, representing a 4.5 per cent market share.123 There was increasing paranoia in the Russian military–industrial complex that the United States was waiting for the right opportunity to recapture the Chinese arms market from Russia.124 While there were some signs that the United States was willing to consider some military-technical cooperation with China, the scandal surrounding funding of the Democrats’ presidential election campaign, and the new ‘spy’ scandal of spring 1999 strengthened the case of those in the USA who were against ‘engaging’ China, making an imminent renewal of SinoUS military cooperation unlikely. This could only be good news for Russia’s

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin

27

arms manufacturers. Sales were strengthened further as a result of President El’tsin’s visit to Beijing in early December 1999, just a few weeks before his resignation. In 1998–99 China obtained the licence to manufacture Su-27SK Flanker B aircraft, and discussions began on the licence for Su-30K fighter jets.125 Russia was still cautious, however, and held back on the Su-30MKI licence, which was obtained by India in late 1999. The mercantilist motives behind Russian arms sales were questioned by Kokoshin in his new capacity as head of the Presidential Security Council, who declared that the choice of countries to which the Russian Federation exports arms should be dictated not by commercial, but rather by national security interests.126 Despite the large volumes of sales, one should not necessarily assume that Russia was making a significant contribution to China’s conventional armoury – according to Konstantin Makienko, these imports from Russia accounted for only about 1–2 per cent of the overall arms in the Chinese Armed Forces. Moreover, in terms of a threat to the Russian Far East, the types of weapons China was purchasing were strategic rather than tactical, i.e. more suitable for an attack on Taiwan and the South China Seas.127 Makienko, like many others, believed Russia’s nuclear arsenal remains its main deterrent. Nevertheless, the words of one Russian analyst showed that arms exports were still perceived as a reliable instrument of foreign policy: ‘Conquering the vast Asia-Pacific armaments markets can be of considerable economic and geopolitical significance to Russia.’128 The wisdom of this strategy is examined in the next chapter, which looks at the demarcation of the joint border in the Far East, and the wider context.

3

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin Redefining the joint border

Everything intersects at the border: politics, economics, and security . . . (Andrei Nikolaev, former head of the Border Guards Service)1

The demarcation and demilitarisation of the border under El’tsin was a mixed blessing: the opening of the border brought an increase in cross-border trade on both sides. However, the increase in trade also brought an influx of Chinese traders, a number of whom, according to some, were settling in the Far Eastern regions of Russia. Moreover, there were reports of criminal activity by Chinese gangs, which increased anti-Chinese feeling. Those who wished to make political capital out of these developments seized on the demarcation of the border as proof of an overall plan by the Chinese government to colonise the Russian Far East in order to solve the problem of China’s population growth. They charged that the border agreement originally signed between the Soviet Union and China in 1991 was unequal and left China with the greater share of territory. The fact that some areas of the Russian Far East had once been under Chinese rule, some argued, could imply that China still harboured territorial ambitions vis-à-vis Russia. Conversely, the goods made available by trade across the border were vital for many of the citizens of Russia’s Far East who could ill afford more expensive imports. During El’tsin’s tenure another factor was that the governors of some of these border regions often had their own agendas, whose aim was to assure the continuation of their political careers rather than to raise the living standards of their populations. In the first part of this chapter, I will examine the history of the boundary between Russia and China up until 1997 when the border was demarcated. Attitudes at the centre and the periphery towards the 1991 border agreement are then analysed, before moving on to issues surrounding demilitarisation of the frontier. Finally, a section on the issue of Chinese migration to the Russian Far East seeks to show how mutual mistrust and local fears were exploited variously by the regional administrators, the central government, and the different institutions during the El’tsin years. The extent to which the USSR was prepared to make concessions to the Chinese has been noted by Eric Hyer who maintains that Gorbachev and Shevardnadze apparently wanted to recognise China’s claims to the

Redefining the joint border

29

islands near Khabarovsk, while Dmitrii Iazov, the defence minister, and the premier Nikolai Ryzhkov, opposed it for strategic reasons.2

Border demarcation in the Russian Far East: implications for bilateral relations The Tsarist treaties and the Soviet era In 1689, the first border pact was signed: Russia agreed to acknowledge China’s right to land on both sides of the river known as Amur by the Russians, and Heilongjiang by the Chinese. The exact definition of the frontier was, however, vague. The year 1858 saw the initialling of a new pact, the Treaty of Aigun that put areas now forming Russia’s Primorskii krai under joint rule. This was shortlived, as two years later in 1860, under the terms of the Treaty of Beijing, Russia imposed on a weakened China (it had just been defeated by Britain and France) a new deal under which the border took roughly its present shape. One Sinologist has described how ‘on the pretext of aiding China against England, Russia persuaded the Chinese government in the treaties of 1858 and 1860 to hand over the area east of the Stanovoy range as far south as the region of what is today Vladivostok (the capital of Primorksii krai)’.3 In 1886 China and Russia demarcated their border for the first time, but not precisely, due to the nature of the wild and largely uninhabited border zone. During the struggle between the Bolsheviks and their opponents for control of the Russian Far East, the Manchurian city of Harbin became the base for Russian ‘Whites’, who continued to fight the new Soviet government until the 1930s. The regime had declared ‘null and void all the treaties concluded with China by the former governments of Russia, renounce[d] all seizure of Chinese territory and all Russian concessions to China, without any compensation and for ever. . . .’4 This promise, known as the Karakhan Declaration, was later described by the Soviets as ‘a basis for negotiations, not a concrete programme. This change of front the Chinese have never forgotten.’5 [my italics] As relations between China and the Soviet Union started to deteriorate in the early 1960s, old resentments began to surface. During the border clashes between India and China in 1962 the USSR at first somewhat grudgingly supported China, mainly due to the need for Beijing’s support over the Cuban Missile Crisis, but the USSR soon took up a neutral stance on the border issue, thus angering the Chinese, who began moving closer to Pakistan.6 In 1963, China described the tsarist treaties as ‘unequal’, but agreed to accept them as a basis for negotiation.7 However, the USSR refused to concede that the treaties were unequal or even that there were ‘disputed areas’, leading to the breakdown of talks. Mao Zedong now openly criticised the USSR for its territorial ambitions, telling a Japanese delegation in July 1964 that ‘too many places’ were occupied by the USSR, including the Amur region, Mongolia, Xinjiang and the Maritime province, along with Khabarovsk and Vladivostok, and lastly, the Kurils, which he said should be returned to Japan (see Map 3.1).8 Articles

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Redefining the joint border

Map 3.1 China–USSR border.

appeared in the Chinese press claiming that Soviet policy was a continuation of the ‘aggressive policy’ of the Russian tsars, while Moscow declared that China was continuing ‘the expansionist strategy of the Chinese emperors’.9 March 1969 saw armed clashes on the eastern border on the uninhabited Damanskii island10 leading to emergency talks between Kosygin and Zhou Enlai in September to stop hostilities. A month later formal demarcation talks began, continuing on and off until 1973 but showing little progress as the PRC demanded prior acknowledgement of ‘unequal treaties’ and ‘disputed areas’, and

Redefining the joint border

31

proposed mutual withdrawal of border forces from the latter. However, the USSR refused all preconditions. The Soviets offered a mutual non-aggression pact and various compromises on the border, including acceptance of the thalweg principle11 to demarcate the Amur and Ussuri rivers. All these offers were turned-down by the Chinese, especially as the island of Heixiazi (Bol’shoi Ussuriisk) at the junction of the two rivers was excluded.12 The breakdown of negotiations coincided with an increased Soviet military build-up in the Far East, which gives credence to Dittmer’s comment that ‘the talks had served at least a stabilizing function’.13 Talks were resumed in early 1975, but were overshadowed by the intrusion of a Soviet helicopter into Xinjiang later that year. The deaths of Mao Zedong and Zhou Enlai in 1977 encouraged the USSR to suspend the polemics, and suggest partial settlement, but this was rebuffed by the PRC. Still, while there was no agreement on the problem of the border dispute itself, there was some progress on the issue of navigation rights in the Ussuri and Amur rivers. Since 1966, Soviet warships had prevented Chinese ships from using the eastern watercourse, forcing them to use the Kazakevich channel, which was too shallow for ships. Eventually, the two sides agreed provisionally on navigation of the rivers, leaving the Heixiazi question open and allowing the Chinese to use the eastern watercourse when the Kazakevich channel was too shallow for navigation.14 By the end of 1977, the outcome was an ‘ad hoc administrative arrangement, which shelved the territorial issue while dealing with the practical problem of civilian traffic in this section of the border [i.e. around the island on the Ussuri near Khabarovsk] and seems to have operated since then without attracting further outcry from either side’. According to George Ginsburgs, ‘the Russians soon adopted a de facto policy of sticking to their own side of the center line in the thalweg [. . .] along virtually the entire extent of the fluvial portion of the border’.15 In 1979, in response to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, the Chinese abrogated the Sino-Soviet treaty. However, Beijing indicated willingness to engage in talks separately from the border negotiations, i.e. ‘both sides agreeing to suspend the hopelessly deadlocked border question and focus instead on the normalization of state-to-state relations’.16 This was an important precondition for the building of trust in the late Brezhnev period and the early Gorbachev years, leading to the visit to Beijing in 1983 of Deputy Foreign Minister Mikhail Kapitsa, which was the first visit to China of a high-ranking Soviet official in more than 20 years.17 The gradual rebuilding of some measure of mutual trust was illustrated by Gorbachev’s subsequent success regarding border negotiations. In his Vladivostok speech in 1986 he had referred to Russia’s border with China, and suggested demarcation by the thalweg principle, which was not only significant in those terms, but also in practical ones, as the eastern section of the border ‘the riverine and island sections of the border make up more than 90 per cent. . .’.18 Just one month after the Vladivostok speech, in August 1986, Kapitsa visited Beijing yet again to arrange for the resumption of deputy ministerial talks. Thus, the border talks broken off eight years earlier, resumed in

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February 1987. In early 1989 (just before Gorbachev’s visit) unresolved issues still included the status of Heixiazi island (Bol’shoi Ussuriisk) on the convergence of the Amur and Ussuri rivers. At this time the Soviet side finally agreed that Zhenbao (Damanskii) belonged to China. Despite the breakthrough in relations, which led to the signing in 1991 of agreements on the course of the border, the issue of the sovereignty of Bolshoi Ussuriisk and the other island, Tarabarov, covering a total of 350 km in Khabarovsk krai, and of the island of Bolshoi (59 km2) in the Argun river, remained.19 The post-Soviet era In a speech to the Supreme Soviet in 1992, the Russian Foreign Minister Andrei Kozyrev requested ratification of the eastern sector of the Russo-Chinese border in accordance with the 1991 agreement.20 He explained that under that agreement out of a total of 1,845 islands, more than half were to be given away. The islands on the Chinese side of the channel, Kozyrev noted, were all ‘uninhabited, unclaimed and have practically no economic value’. Overall, he claimed, the agreement did not envisage any territorial concessions, and ‘for the first time reflects the de facto situation on the Russo-Chinese border’. Summing up, he admitted that it had still not been possible to agree on the ownership of Bolshoi Ussuriisk and Tarabarov around Khabarovsk and the island of Bolshoi upstream of Argun.21 Article 5 of the 1991 border agreement stipulated that in navigable rivers the border should be the middle of the main channel (thalweg) and in nonnavigable rivers the middle of the river or the middle of its main branch. Article 8 stated that vessels, including military ones, may sail unimpeded down the Ussuri into the Amur river past the town of Khabarovsk and back. In addition, Article 9 stated that Chinese ships may sail down the Tumen as far as the thirtythird border point indicated in Article 2 in order to reach the sea and back again.22 However, the two sides decided not to delay signing the agreement on demarcation and to continue talks on the two areas in question; until agreement was reached on these islands, however, the status quo would remain. In response to local dissatisfaction at the paucity of information emanating from the Kremlin, a concerted effort was made by the MID and representatives of the border troops to maintain contact with the local administration of the krais and oblasts in the Russian Far East. December of the same year saw the first SinoRussian summit where the two sides signed a Joint Declaration agreeing to continue to hold talks on those sections of the border which had yet to be agreed upon.23 This meant that the future of the islands of Bol’shoi Ussuriisk and Tarabarov in the Amur near Khabarovsk, and of Bol’shoi in the Argun would be decided at a later date in accordance with Article 3 of the 1991 agreement on the eastern section.24 Following the 1991 agreement, the issue of demarcation was fraught with difficulties: the decision to accept the thalweg principle was sometimes made unworkable by factors beyond the control of administrators. Thus Ginsburgs draws attention to the erosion of the left bank of the Ussuri:

Redefining the joint border

33

Nature itself lent a hand in removing some of the old stumbling blocks: thus, geography took care of the status of the ill-fated Damansky Island when the shallowing of the Ussuri resulted in the island being joined to the Chinese bank.25 This was also the case on the Tumen river where, according to documents signed in 1860–61 and 1886, the left bank of the river belonged to China. However due to erosion, ‘the border ended up in the water’. The agreement signed in 1991 restored the treaty situation under which the left bank belongs to China. According to a MID briefing in 1996 the two sides ‘are looking for a mutually acceptable variant for the passage of the border taking into account the peculiarities of the terrain’.26 This issue was seized upon by the governor of Primorskii krai, Evgenii Nazdratenko, and used as ammunition in his struggle with the centre. Nazdratenko drew particular attention to the area where Russia, China and North Korea meet at the mouth of the river Tummanaia (Tumen). Under the terms of the border agreement, this area was to be given to China, and Nazdratenko fuelled speculation that China might build ports here, thus giving it access to the Sea of Japan. The fact that North Korea persisted in denying China access to the lower reaches of the Tumen river,27 may have been one reason for Nazdratenko’s suspicions of Chinese motives. According to Nazdratenko, if China built ports on the Tumen river, this would effectively make redundant the Primorskii ports of Vladivostok and Nakhodka, as freight would then be shipped ‘through China to Kazakstan via the Chinese Eastern Railway and then to Europe. This route is almost 2,000 km shorter than the present one . . .’28 The issue was complicated by the fact that the Tumen river basin had been earmarked for a development project under the aegis of the United Nations. The formal agreement for the project was signed in May 1995 by Russia, South and North Korea, China and Japan. However, the Japanese were cool regarding the project and were apparently not willing to invest in order to make the project viable.29 Local governors such as Nazdratenko believed that Russia had least to gain from the project, and China the most. But, as the MID pointed out, the development of the area at the mouth of the Tumen river had been removed from the agenda already at the preliminary stage of talks on the project.30 The Chinese themselves rejected any idea that they might build a port designed for the Sea of Japan. Some asserted that handing over this land would allow the Chinese to sail warships down the river, although the MID protested that the river was far too shallow, ‘a little river that only a flat-bottomed Chinese junk could pass through’.31 Nonetheless, some believed that the ‘strategic importance of this buffer zone’ was highlighted by the Tumen river project and that Russia was offered ‘insulting conditions’ amounting to only 5 per cent of revenue, the reason, one article claimed, being that the instigators of the project assumed a priori that the territory along the river would go to China.32 In fact, compromise was reached on this river and an area containing the graves of Russian soldiers, as well as a nature reserve and a lake, were retained as Russian territory. As for the two islands in the Amur river (Bolshoi Ussuriisk and Tarabarov), at the fifth summit in November 1997, it was declared that ‘all questions relating to

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the demarcation of the Russo-Chinese state border in the eastern section [. . .] in accordance with the Agreement of 1991 have been finally regulated’. Although the two islands were explicitly omitted from the joint declaration, it was decided that this issue would be resolved at a later date.33 On a strict interpretation of the 1991 agreement then, the two sides could indeed state that all questions had been resolved, in as much as the fate of these islands was to be decided separately. The November 1997 summit also saw the signing of an agreement on joint economic use of ‘certain islands’ and their surrounding waters in the border rivers. This provided for continued use of islands ceded to one or other side by those engaging in ‘traditional economic activity’, while the right to issue the necessary documents was granted to the local authorities on either side of the border. This agreement provided for the joint use of Bol’shoi Ussuriisk and Tarabarov, a provision which elicited protests from, among others, the chair of the Khabarovsk krai Duma.34 A memorandum was also signed on cooperation between the Chinese and the Russian local authorities, which envisaged joint consultation in the case of disputes, although it was stated that this did not include questions falling within the sphere of foreign policy, defence or the state border.35 In September 1994, at the second summit, the two sides again confirmed their responsibilities to observe strictly the provisions of the 1991 agreement on the eastern sector. In the same year agreements were signed on the protection of water resources in the Amur and Ussuri rivers relating to fishing, and as we shall see these issues resurfaced as areas of tension under Putin. At the September summit the western sector was also agreed on: this section is only 55 km long, and is located in an isolated mountainous area of the border where China (Xinjiang– Uighur autonomous region), Russia (in the Altai) and Mongolia intersect. The Chinese ratified the agreement in December 1994, and the Russians in May 1995.

Border demarcation in the Russian Far East: centre and periphery The protests which surrounded the demarcation of the Sino-Russian border highlighted the fact that in a federal state such as the new Russia, the centre must take into account local interests when deciding on foreign policy issues. Of course the agreement on the border had been signed prior to the collapse of the USSR, and ratified by a parliament elected under the Soviet system. Nevertheless, the Russian government was slow to clarify the contents of international agreements to local populations, such as that on the Russo-Chinese border.36 Initially, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was complacent on this issue, but at least the centre was beginning to wake up to the fact that the regional authorities could not be ignored. The protests against the demarcation of the border with China drew attention, among other factors, to the need for greater consultation with the regions on issues of foreign policy that directly affected them, and the establishment of a ‘Consultative Committee of subjects of the Russian Federation on International and Foreign Economic Ties’, towards the end of 1994, was clearly a move to

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tackle this problem. In his address to the first session of the Committee, Kozyrev noted that Russia was: composed of subjects, and this means that Russian Foreign Policy should be the foreign policy of each region and at the same time an integral and total policy of the Federation – that is the regions taken together. . . . There have been no more instances when the president, the foreign minister or other leaders have set off on a trip to China, Japan or Korea without having first consulted with the appropriate regions. Today not one question is solved without the participation of the Federation’s subjects.37 Thus, when Kozyrev visited Beijing in early 1995 to hold talks on cooperation regarding the border, as well as on trade and economic relations, it was with the cooperation of the leaders of a number of Russian krais bordering on China. Nonetheless, as one diplomat admitted, the main barrier to foreign investment in the Russian Far East was ‘not the rivalry between the regions of the different branches of power within one or other oblast or krai, but the constant tug of war between the centre and the periphery.’38 [my italics] Kozyrev’s visit coincided with the start of a concerted campaign by Nazdratenko to undermine the demarcation of the border in the Primorskii area.39 Nevertheless, an agreement was signed in Beijing on 17 October 1995 completing demarcation of the 4,380 km border with Russia. However, the agreement contained a clause leaving to future generations the question of control over the three islands in the Amur and Argun rivers. The final segment, in Primorskii krai, was completed on 30 November 1995 when 1,300 hectares were transferred to China – but some of the local Russian population remained unhappy with the demarcation.

Exploitation of the border issue following the 1991 border agreement: the regions The emergence of cross-border trade since 1992 has meant an outflow of raw materials from the Russian Far East in exchange for consumer goods. Those who sought to enhance their own political standing at the regional level, charged that the Far East was being stripped of its resources by greedy Chinese who offered only sub-standard goods in exchange. China needs Russia as a market for these goods, which is why it is not interested in curbing illegal emigration of its citizens to the Russian border regions. The border demarcation had already been agreed on in 1991, but governors of the border regions (although noticeably not in Amurskaia oblast which has a high trade turnover with China) and sections of the media sympathetic to them (e.g. the media tycoon and politician Boris Berezovskii’s Nezavisimaia gazeta) attempted to depict the demarcation process as a ‘catastrophe’ for Russia in geopolitical and security terms, with the governors portrayed as upholders of Russian national interests.40 It is difficult to assess the validity of these claims, in particular as the accusations against the federal centre have often been motivated by financial considerations, in

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as much as certain border regions attempted to win extra subsidies from the centre by exaggerating the extent of territorial concessions to China. Nazdratenko, for example, demanded special privileges for his krai which eventually materialised in the form of government decree ‘On Urgent Measures of State Support for the Primorsk krai economy in 1993–1995’.41 Nazdratenko had always had strong support during his gubernatorial campaigns from Oleg Soskovets, First Deputy Prime Minister until 1997 and, like Nazdratenko, an old industrialist.42 Around the same time El’tsin issued a decree to strengthen his power to appoint new governors until 1996. Nazdratenko organised the campaign to denounce the 1991 treaty under the slogan ‘No piece of native land to China’; simultaneously, operation ‘Foreigner’ was launched by the FBGS to clear the krai of illegal immigrants. In February and March 1995, protests against demarcation in the Russian Far East seemed to be spiralling out of control: governors appointed by El’tsin were now opposing his policies.43 The Cossacks played an important role in the drama created by Nazdratenko. For example, the rogue governor decided at one point to give over part of Primorskii krai near the Chinese border to the Ussuri Cossacks, who should ‘quickly build settlements there, farm the land and protect the state from violators – that is, the Chinese’.44 The protests of Nazdratenko were given most prominence, but Viktor Ishaev, the governor of Khabarovsk krai, also spoke out and both governors displayed a tough stance on territorial concessions to China in their re-election campaigns. For example, in the December 1996 gubernatorial elections, Ishaev garnered support from the ‘Party of Primore’, created to collect signatures on the holding of a referendum on whether Russia should cede land to China. Its supporters charged that any cession would damage Russia’s strategic position in the APR.45 Both Nazdratenko and Ishaev at times even threatened to secede from the Federation if their demands were not met. The cynical exploitation of the sensitive issue of territorial integrity even led to a smear campaign against the mayor of Vladivostok, Viktor Cherepkov, in the 1996 gubernatorial elections. A forged news article, quoting Cherepkov as urging Primorskii krai to secede, was sent to El’tsin’s office, apparently by Nazdratenko’s Moscow representatives.46 However, the centre’s anger has been mainly directed at Nazdratenko, partly because of the chaos caused by his power struggle with Cherepkov, but also because of the constant energy crises in the krai, resulting mainly from Nazdratenko’s mismanagement. Nazdratenko also had some powerful allies, however, such as Aleksandr Lebed (and later Evgenii Primakov),47 who claimed, when Anatolii Chubais called for Nazdratenko to be sacked, that this would allow the Chinese to gain control of Russian territory.48

Institutional rivalry The Border Guards Service spearheaded the drive to strengthen Russian territorial integrity, by clamping down on illegal migration and attempting to wrest oversight of cross-border trade from the rival Customs Services, leading to a struggle between the two for control of visa regimes and goods transit. El’tsin himself emphasised the important role of the border services in ‘the fight against

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cross-border organised crime and illegal migration’,49 and officials of both the naval and armed forces made comments regarding the border demarcation issue. General Andrei Nikolaev, head of the Border Guards until the end of 1997, was at the forefront of attempts to win budgetary concessions for his service, as well as to ward off attempts by the Ministry of Defence to absorb the Border Guards (it was eventually subordinated to the FSB under Putin in 2003). By highlighting the importance of Russian territorial integrity, which had become an integral component of Russian foreign and security policies, he was able to secure budget increases for his service. In an article published shortly after his ‘resignation’, Nikolaev outlined the strategic goal of ‘border diplomacy’ as aiming for the creation and strengthening of ‘a belt and zone of border security along the entire perimeter of the Russian border’. Further, he recommended unifying in one system customs and migration control, implying these functions should also come under the aegis of the Border Guards.50 Vladimir Lukin described the advent of Nikolaev as having vastly improved the situation concerning Russia’s state borders. Lukin called for more resources to be allocated to Nikolaev’s service, noting that ‘the border troops are in a very serious state: they are not paid, they are demoralised. . . . The border is becoming symbolic.’51 Politicians like the former Vice-President Aleksandr Rutskoi saw the issue of the border as a cue for impassioned pleas for maintaining Russian territorial integrity: Nor can there be any question of a revision of the demarcation line of the border between Russia and China. We received Russian lands not as a present. . . . Our ancestors shed their blood for it. . . . Wherever the Russian flag was once hoisted, it should not be replaced by any other one.52 Tracing the history of the dispute, Lukin noted that China originally had ‘very serious territorial claims’ on Russia, which were terminated only by the 1991 border agreement. The agreement was scrutinised in great detail and everyone recognised its fairness and the fact that it was advantageous for Russia. According to Lukin, the agreement had been given for scrutiny to the administrations of those krais and oblasts of Russia and the Soviet Union that bordered China, and there were no criticisms at the time. In 1992 the agreement was almost unanimously ratified in the Supreme Soviet; Lukin explained that as the agreement had now been ratified, the detailed questions, such as maps, etc., should be left to the executive and not the legislature. However, he conceded that it had been decided to review the agreement in order to try to ‘smooth out the tensions which have arisen’.53 On the other hand, some thought the best policy was to complete the demarcation work as soon as possible, thereby making it a fait accompli. As one member of the Russian delegation to the border talks remarked, this would ‘eliminate any sources of potential disputes or conflicts. Revising the agreement would only leave Russia’s national interests vulnerable to attack.’54 Lukin noted that the maps which were put together after the Treaty of Beijing were imprecise, so there should be further discussion; however, he made it clear that in Khabarovsk krai, where the islands Tarabarov and Bolshoi

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Ussuriisk clearly belonged to Russia, there should be no negotiation, either now or in the future. Nevertheless, he stressed, where the border was unclear, Russia would have to compromise, in particular as the balance of forces between Russia and China had changed radically, and not in our favour. Seventy per cent of our borders (not just with China) are not assured. All we need now is to quarrel with China over a few hectares. . . . Let us remember also that the Chinese have made concessions to us, not just the other way around. . . . I would also ask the president and the government to bring order into the executive on this issue. I respect the subjects of the Federation but this discussion should not take place in full view of our neighbour and should not create problems. Pluralism in parliament is fine, but not in the executive, especially when it has serious international repercussions.55 In his annual address to the Border Guards in 1994, El’tsin recommended enlisting the help of the Cossacks in defending Russia’s borders56 and Cossacks were drafted into the Amur, the Ussuri and the Transbaikal military districts. Some claimed that the Ussuriisk Cossack regiment had played ‘an active role’ in stopping the transfer of territory to China where soldiers’ graves were located (in Khasan). A few months before his retirement, the Commander-in-Chief of the Navy, Admiral Feliks Gromov (August 1992–Autumn 1997) warned that border talks could give China an outlet onto the Sea of Japan, which he said could change the military balance in Asia. While at present, Chinese territory ended 17 km from the Sea of Japan, with the river marking the Chinese–North Korean border north of that point, and the Russian–North Korean border south to the sea, Gromov claimed the new agreement might allow Chinese vessels to sail down the Tumen river into the Sea of Japan.57 Meanwhile, officials of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs declared that those who try ‘to damage these agreements are not only pushing us into a historical cul-de-sac but are also acting against the core interests of Russia in its relations with China’.58

Demilitarising the joint border Between 1985 and 1987 China cut its armed forces by one million; the Soviets cut forces on the Soviet–Chinese border by 80,000 in the mid-1980s and by 1991 had cut 120,000 from the Far East theatre as well as completing withdrawal from Mongolia.59 At the first Russo-Chinese summit in December 1992 a memorandum was signed on ‘questions of mutual reductions in armed forces and confidence building in the military sphere in the border area’. This confirmed responsibilities arising from the intergovernmental Agreement of 24 April 1990 on ‘the guiding principles of mutual reduction in armed forces and confidence building in the military sphere in the border area’. It also alluded to the ‘great significance’ of the ongoing talks between Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan’ in the same area. Agreement was reached on accelerating work in this area

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39

in order to conclude it by the end of 1994. Point 2 of the memorandum stated that the ‘practical measures’ of the agreement would be completed in stages by the year 2000, with the ‘aim of reducing the armed forces in the border region to a minimal level in accordance with the goodneighbourly and friendly relations between the two countries’.60 Earlier that year the seventh round of talks on troop reductions and confidence building in border areas had been attended by delegations from Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Russia and China, and the Chinese also made a reconnaissance trip around the Far Eastern military district, visiting South Sakahalinsk and Khabarovsk.61 Russian Defence Minister Grachev indicated that only troops in remote northern areas were to be reduced.62 He explained that Chinese demands to make cutbacks within a 100 km zone were unacceptable, because China’s main military units were located in their interior, while Russia’s were near the border. In effect, he said, the Chinese were demanding a 50 per cent cut in troops, which made it unlikely that an agreement could be signed in the near future. Despite this lack of success on troop reductions, there were still plans to draft an agreement on mutual confidence building in time for El’tsin’s visit in late 1995.63 (In fact, due to illness, El’tsin’s visit to the border area did not take place until April 1996.) In May 1996 Grachev met Chinese Chief of Staff Fu Quanyou. A military–technical protocol was signed, specifying the terms of the 1993 bilateral military–technical agreement and Grachev described the two countries as ‘strategic partners’. Reductions in border troops were also part of the agenda on this occasion.64 The talks with the Central Asian states were codified in the ‘Shanghai Agreement’ signed against the backdrop of the April 1996 Russo-Chinese summit. The importance of this agreement was that it provided for multilateral as well as bilateral confidence building measures, and the joint declaration issued at the summit stated that the agreement represented ‘an important joint investment in terms of preserving stability, security and development in the APR, and could serve as an example for other states in the region’.65 This statement may have been made with one eye on the pledge made by the USA and Japan just prior to the Russo-Chinese summit, to revitalise their security alliance. On a trip to Beijing in 1992, Kozyrev had said the Far East military district was included in El’tsin’s plans to reduce troops by 700,000 during 1993 and 1994. Later in 1993, however, he changed the figure, stating that Russia would maintain only half its forces in the region. Aleksei Zagorskii draws attention to the fact that the initial bilateral talks on reducing border troops and CBMs which began already in 1990 were smoothly transformed into talks on only CBMs. As understood by the Russian and Chinese military, real security guarantees were based on personal contacts and confidence between elites and did not require legal formulations in treaties, or control measures. When Russian–Chinese contacts were reestablished after the abortive coup of 1991, the old elite model thus seemed to re-emerge.66 An article written at the time of the April 1997 summit questioned the heavy cuts being made along the border, and asked why it was necessary to ‘arm our neighbour so well, a neighbour whose population exceeds ours more than eightfold?’67 Grachev’s successor, Igor’ Rodionov, clarified the question as

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to whether troops near the border would be cut only partially, or completely withdrawn in accordance with the five-way agreement between China, the three Central Asian states and Russia, signed at Shanghai in December 1996: This will be the first agreement of its kind in Asia. However there is no question of the withdrawal of any armed forces from the border area. The agreement merely defines the upper levels for each individual regiment, for weapons and military technology of the ground troops, the airborne troops and the aircraft of the border guards in the border area.68 With respect to the bilateral troop reduction agreement, the Russian Foreign Ministry refused to disclose any details on numbers, merely that the reductions would be made within a 100 km zone on either side of the border, on the principle of ‘asymmetry’. ‘This means that the forces of the country with the most armaments and personnel would be subject to the biggest cuts.’ The MID acknowledged that this principle would mainly affect Russia, since Russian troops were concentrated in the zone covered in the agreement, while the main grouping on the Chinese side had been moved back and ‘is located roughly 300 kilometres inside Chinese territory’.69 As one analyst has argued, ‘Soviet/ Russian willingness to undertake asymmetrical reductions should be regarded as a contributing factor in the success of Sino-Russian CBMs.’70 Nevertheless, Li Peng’s visit to Moscow in December 1996 was marred by Igor’ Rodionov’s remarks to the effect that China was a potential enemy of Russia, one of a number of ‘Asian countries’ seeking sharply to increase their armed forces’ defence capabilities.71 Around the same time, the commander of the Transbaikal Military District complained that as China had not yet begun reducing its forces, and that the PLA’s approach was to ‘base its military units approximately 300 kilometres south of the border . . . The Chinese have suggested that we withdraw our forces by a similar distance – admittedly, in a northwards direction. . .’72

Border demarcation and Chinese migrants in the RFE Until December 1993, there were no regulations in place regarding foreign labour in the Russian Federation. A report on the situation in Primorskii krai by the press department of the local administration noted that the number of foreigners working in the krai in 1995 was one-thirtieth of the annual number of non-Russian workers prior to 1990, calling into question the widespread assumption that that numbers of foreigners had increased. Officials at both the regional and the federal level commented on the issue, for example Grachev urged vigilance regarding the influx of Chinese: ‘Persons of Chinese nationality are trying to conquer the Russian Far East by peaceful means.’73 The director of the Federal Migration Service urged ‘resistance to Chinese expansion’ and even proposed developing a programme to settle Russian-speaking people from the ex-republics in the Far East.74

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In Primorskii krai the campaign to take harsh measures against illegal immigrants was particularly well publicised. Thus on 15 October 1997 Nazdratenko signed an instruction ‘On measures to control the foreign labour force in the sphere of services and trade’. The head of the Primorskii krai migration service signalled the start of a new campaign against the illegals, declaring that the ‘uncontrolled business’ of Chinese shuttle traders would now be ‘liquidated’. From now on, the managers of the Primore markets would be obliged to conclude contracts with Chinese companies and indicate in the contracts how many people from that company would be trading and in what. The same article noted that the Primorskii krai Internal Affairs administration had invited Chinese police from Harbin to acquaint themselves with the work of their Russian colleagues. The main topics of discussion were in fact crimes committed by Chinese against other Chinese on Primorskii krai territory and they discussed cooperation in investigating illegal activities.75 Apparently the Primorskii krai authorities tightened entrance requirements for Chinese and North Korean workers, so that now, to cross the border, they had to demonstrate skills in the profession in which they were seeking work.76 Reliable figures on numbers of migrants are not available, and official figures provided by the Federal Migration Service were included in the annual statistical tables for two years only. Western analysts, often relying mainly on sensationalist newspaper reports, cited aggregate figures of between a few hundred thousand and a million: thus Ziegler, writing in 1994, gave current estimates of ‘between 300,000 and one million’ illegal Chinese residents in the Russian Far East as a whole.77 Charles Moltz, in an article a year later, cited an even broader spread, of ‘between 200,000 to over two million’.78 Certain Russian analysts, however, arrive at more conservative figures: for example, Irina Kommissina, writing in 1996, gives figures for Russia as a whole in the first half of 1995 as 18,900 (she gives the figure for 1992 of 30,000). However, these figures are for those entering the country via legal channels. According to the Chief of Staff of the Pacific Border District, in Primorskii krai in 1994 there were more than 50,000 illegal Chinese, while in the RFE as a whole in 1994 there were more than 150,000.79 Official figures of the number of foreign workers residing in Russia, provided by the Federal Migration Service of Russia for 1994, showed that out of a total of 129,000 working in Russia as a whole, 20,300 were from China (15.7 per cent of the total); in 1995 out of a total of 281,000, 26,500 were from China (9.4 per cent of the total).80 Vladimir Portiakov, another Russian political scientist, gave figures for 1993 of between 40,000–150,000 Chinese in Primorskii krai alone.81 Even liberal politicians such as Grigorii Iavlinskii exaggerated statistics regarding Chinese migration to Russia. Shortly before the Russian parliamentary elections in 1995 he warned that an economic crisis was brewing in China, which could unleash a flood of immigrants into Russia, and he claimed that five million Chinese were currently in Russia illegally.82 However, central authorities were keen to dismiss such assertions, and El’tsin’s presidential adviser, Emil Pain, said in 1997 that the claim of two million illegal Chinese immigrants in the

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southern area of the RFE must be wrong, as such a number would be ‘highly noticeable’ among a population of 4.8 million. Nevertheless, he expressed concern that while there were only 50,000–80,000 Chinese immigrants in 1992–93, by May 1997 that figure had risen to just short of 200,000.83 As mentioned above, the Border Guards Services have played an important role in attempting to stem the tide of illegal migration. Under Operation ‘Inostranets’, they arrested 1,657 people on visa violation charges, 75 per cent of whom were apparently Chinese.84 Portiakov also notes that Li Fenglin, the Chinese ambassador, on a tour of the RFE in September 1995, was told that the majority of the 3,423 people deported from Russia in the first eight months of 1995 were Chinese.85 In 1993, a similar operation codenamed ‘Signal’ was conducted in Vladivostok, during the course of which over 3,000 ‘miscreants’, including a large number of Chinese with expired visas were detained.86 The sharp increase in illegal migration from the Chinese side of the border in 1993 led to a directive to the border troops authorising them to open fire on anyone caught trying to cross the border from China who failed to respond to their commands.87 A report in 1993 detailed raids in the krai which purportedly discovered more than 15,000 Chinese in that locality, while the number of Russians was apparently only 70,000. The author claimed that the local population was tired of the rudeness and ‘predatory consumerism’ of the Chinese shuttle traders, accusing them also of inciting riots and starting fights as well as engaging in theft, murder and rape.88 Yet it was also reported that in 1992 alone, 245 attacks had been carried out on Chinese citizens on the territory of Amurskaia oblast, although it is not clear whether the attacks were carried out by their compatriots, or by Russian nationals.89 While Chinese gangs operate all over Russia, the most publicity was given to those operating in the Russian Far East. Vladimir Miasnikov, in his comprehensive history of the Russo-Chinese border, claimed that the most frequent reason for violating the border was fishing, which according to the press service of the border guards had become ‘almost uncontrollable’.90 Despite this, by comparison with reports of Japanese poaching operations, the Chinese violations were given little publicity. However exaggerated the reports of Chinese expansionism, the reality of an economically weak Russian Far East bordering an increasingly assertive and economically powerful China, cannot be ignored. It may be true, as Vladimir Abarinov asserts, that accusations of expansionism by local authorities ‘will not have any effect on bilateral relations’,91 but during El’tsin’s tenure the Kremlin made no attempt to develop a coherent policy to address the issue, if only in order to pre-empt the myth-making of local demagogues. Efforts by federal authorities to address the economic plight of the Russian Far East did not inspire confidence. For example, the presidential plan for the long-term development of the Far East failed to get off the ground, and the Russian Far East remained one of the least attractive prospects for foreign investment. The Chinese presence in the Russian Far East did increase significantly during the El’tsin years, but this was a natural outcome of the opening of the joint border and the growth of trade. However, in Russia this natural expansion was often described in terms of a potential security threat, i.e. that the historical

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territorial claims of the Chinese could eventually lead to the RFE becoming absorbed into Greater China. In the 1960s, the German Sinologist Klaus Mehnert asked young Chinese who had grown up in Mao’s China what they had been taught about Vladivostok: ‘Almost all of them replied that they had been taught that the place [i.e. Vladivostok] had been called Haishanwei “before the Russians took it away”. Khabarovsk and Blagoveshchensk were shown on maps by the Chinese names of Poli and Hailanpao.’92 A work on the Sino-Russian border by the respected Russian Sinologist Vladimir Miasnikov, warned that such attitudes persisted among the Chinese, and in China, in literary works and everyday use, Russia’s Far East and Siberia was now propagandised as a place to make one’s fortune, a ‘virgin land’ inhabited by gullible Russians, and this therefore attracted a significant number of ‘criminal elements’ from China to Russian territory.93 Miasnikov emphasised that: The idea of the unity of the country holds for the Beijing as well as for the Taipei politicians, it is axiomatic for millions of Chinese who live overseas. Thus it follows that for whatever reason Chinese come to Russia’s Far East, they are filled with the knowledge that they are only temporarily reconciled to the ‘historical injustice’ expressed in the fact that Primorskii krai and Amurskaia oblast belong to Russia. It is part of the official secondary and further education curriculum in China that China lost 1.5 million square kilometres to Russia under the ‘unequal treaties’. To place these concerns in context, Russians might heed the words of one analyst who concludes that while it is true that the populations of China’s border regions are many times higher than those of Russia’s Far Eastern regions, these comparisons have no real value: ‘They have been made since the mid-nineteenth century when Russia began settling the Pacific coast. Their chief value comes in playing on fears, social prejudice, and on greed.’94 However, in the context of the disintegration of the Soviet ‘empire’, and the issue of Chechnia, for Russia its borders had never seemed more vulnerable. The words of Nikolaev, former head of the Border Guard Service spelt out this fear: In certain cases the influence of the outside world on a border population is stronger than its links with the federal centre. And if one takes into consideration the lingering scent of separatism in the air, the bitter experience of recent bids for independence, and the rivalry of a number of countries and world centres of power both with Russia and for control of Russia, then the possibility that a piece of Russia’s geopolitical ‘pie’ might be ‘bitten off’, could cease to be just an abstract idea.95

Conclusion So, while Russia was prepared to make certain territorial concessions to China, this was always in the context of a complete overhaul of the border regime,

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combined with CBMs and border demilitarisation, as well as in an atmosphere of political goodwill at the highest levels. Simultaneously, emphasis on strengthening Russia’s borders increased, by clamping down on illegal migrants and illegal economic activities in the overall context of a greater focus on Russia’s territorial integrity. The financial crisis that hit Russia in the summer of 1998 showed that Far Eastern threats of secession were hollow: for example, Nazdratenko now denounced as ‘separatism’ regional tax strikes, calling on regions to preserve the unity of Russia.96 However, the emphasis on territorial integrity sometimes appeared detrimental to moves to integrate Russia more fully into the Asia-Pacific economy. The faltering progress of the Tumen river project, hindered by Russian reservations regarding Chinese naval ambitions, was an example. As long as the Kremlin failed to allocate sufficient investment and resources, such projects would be the only route to the long term revival of the Russian Far East. For the moment at least, both Russia and China had other priorities than seeking to build up military capabilities on their joint border. China was more concerned with developments in the wider Asia-Pacific, specifically the strengthening of the US–Japan alliance and developments on the Korean peninsula than in seeking to expand its territory in Northeast Asia. Russia was preoccupied with the eastward expansion of NATO and developments in Europe. These concerns will be discussed in the next chapter.

4

Russian policy towards China under El’tsin The broader context

How will the United States and Japan react to such fast and active rapprochement between us? Our positions coincide and this can generally create jealousy, although there can be no grounds for that. (Boris El’tsin, December 1992)1

Bilateral political and economic relations with China improved vastly from late 1992 onwards. However, in the wider Asian arena where Russia and China must interact with other states, and in particular, with the United States and Japan the viability of the relationship was less clear. The improvement in relations aimed at ‘strategic cooperation in the twenty-first century’ had implications for both Asia and the world as a whole. With the collapse of the Soviet empire, the new Central Asian states, in particular those with large energy resources, were courted by states not always to Russia’s liking and this was seen as a threat to Russian interests in the ‘near abroad’. As China’s economic clout increased, and it sought to play a more active part in transnational energy projects, Moscow became fearful that its economic and strategic interests could clash with those of Beijing. In the Asia-Pacific, Russia was not yet a major player and relied largely on China for an ‘introduction’ to many of the regions’ important fora. As the political relationship progressed, statements by the two countries on international questions took on a broader aspect, including a pledge to take ‘joint action’ in the United Nations Security Council and a common opposition to the perceived hegemony of the United States in world affairs. For this reason some saw the relationship as having a purely negative basis which, once one or the other state had resolved its conflicts with the United States (and to a certain extent Japan) would cease to have a raison d’être. However, in interviews with Russian academics and government officials, it was emphasised that relations with China had an absolute value, irrespective of the state of relations with either the United States or Japan. The relationship was thus characterised as a strategic goal of Russian foreign policy, that is, just as good or important as the relationship with Japan.2 El’tsin indeed was at pains to deny any hint of an ‘alliance’ between Russia and China, stating ‘it is a transition to deep friendly relations, but in no way an alliance of two states directed against any third state

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or states’.3 Deputy Foreign Minister Georgii Kunadze made the point even more forcefully: It would be wrong to interpret the president’s visit to China that way [i.e. as a result of difficulties with Japan]. To view any of our steps – much less top-level visits to Asian countries – as an attempt somehow to offset the postponed visit to Japan would be at the very least to oversimplify our approach to the APR.4

General views on international problems Generally, from 1995, China and Russia’s formulation of their ideas on the world order and questions of international significance increasingly converged, leading one to conclude that there must be a cross-fertilisation of views. As one Russian commentator put it, the notion of a multipolar world belongs to the Chinese, and the Russians have supported this in the hope that Russia will become one of those poles. ‘If it cannot achieve this goal on its own, then it will achieve it in alliance with China.’ Russia also needs allies as counterweights to pretenders to the ‘poles’ such as South Korea and Japan.5 But in fact many of the concepts such as the idea of a multipolar world are not particularly new. The Soviet literature on international relations since the mid-1960s up to the advent of Gorbachev surmised that the world was becoming increasingly multipolar, but that the principal enemy, i.e. the USA, was fundamentally enduring and might no longer represent the main threat, which might turn out to be China.6 As Allen Lynch points out, while Soviet scholars should in theory have welcomed an increasingly multipolar world in which American power was diluted, at the same time the emergence of other power centres like Europe, Japan and China, meant that there was less need for the United States to engage with the Soviet Union.7 Writing in 1980, one Soviet analyst revealed the fear of Chinese resurgence when he spoke of China’s goal of forming a ‘Sinocentric system of international relations’ based upon the probability of a Soviet–American war whose aftermath would witness a world ruled by Peking. This is said to reflect the supersession of ‘class criteria’ by China in favour of ‘nationalistic and geopolitical criteria’. This represented no momentary aberration in Chinese policy, according to Soviet analysts, ... but one based ‘on a definite strategic plan and is intended for a relatively long period of time’.8 Already in the early 1980s, China’s strategy was to assume the emergence of a multipolar system in the long term, as a result of the ‘mutually debilitating competition’ of the USA and the USSR. While this was taking place, China would be building its own economic and military power so that it could play a leading role in this system.9 In essence, this strategy continued into the 1990s, although the unipolar system that emerged after the Cold War had not been envisaged. During Li Peng’s visit to Moscow in December 1996, the two sides declared themselves ‘important and independent poles in a multi-polar world’ and rejected a system of international relations ‘dominated by one power’. China also condemned NATO’s expansion plans as a relic of the cold war.10 The Russian Sinologist Andrei

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Voskresenskii, surveying Russian academics’ views of China, notes that the concept of multipolarity is interpreted by ‘liberals’ as ‘either an approximate comparability of aggregate potentials of several states, none of which has an evident superiority over the others, or as “unipolar” pluralism . . . marked by the U.S.’s absolute comprehensive superiority that cannot be matched by any competitors – neither a “united” Europe, the territorially superior Russia, nor the . . . PRC.’11 Pragmatists and centrists believed that ‘the westward and eastward vectors of Russia’s foreign policy should not be spearheaded against each other, but rather should be aimed at sustaining a complex balance that would serve Russia’s national interests. The high level of economic interdependence between Russia and China was seen as ‘the best guarantee against possible tensions within the Russia–P.R.C.–U.S. “triangle” ’.12

Russia, China and Central Asia As one analyst has pointed out, for Moscow ‘Asia is overwhelmingly Central Asia’.13 Since the increase in attempts to effect integration within the CIS, Russia was successful at garnering support from the Central Asian states bordering China: Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. China was quick to establish links with the Central Asian republics after the collapse of the Soviet Union, but Russia by contrast was very slow in its diplomatic moves. The United States had also early on recognised the importance of the Central Asian states, and by the time Kozyrev first toured the area in April 1992, the US Secretary of State James Baker had already made three official trips, and Russian embassies in the region were set up only after those of Turkey, Iran, China and the United States (see Map 4.1).14

Map 4.1 Commonwealth of Independent States – Central Asian states.

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In fact, Moscow’s policies towards Central Asia were highly ambivalent: it was not until the appointment of Primakov as Foreign Minister in 1996 that this neglect began to be remedied, and even then, the focus was mainly on political and security relations – economic relations still lagged behind. If anything, the Central Asian states were viewed as economically backward and Russia preferred to focus on relations with Europe and the United States. Moscow began to show greater awareness of the interest of outside powers as evidenced by Igor’ Rodionov’s speech citing China, Iran, Turkey, Pakistan and Japan as potential threats to Russian security. It is unlikely to have been a coincidence that the former Defence Minister’s speech was made two days after Iran–Russia talks in Teheran, and one day before Sino-Russian talks on military cooperation in Moscow. Rodionov also drew attention to the actions of the West, i.e. the expansion of NATO eastwards and the Partnership for Peace scheme, which he claimed were aimed at undermining the unity of the CIS and promoting conflict amongst its members in order to destabilise the region. For this reason he called on the states of the CIS to form a ‘defensive alliance’ as a countermove.15 The reactions of the Central Asian states, however, showed that they were not interested in forming a bloc to counter NATO expansion. Nevertheless, their security interests often coincided with Russia’s, or at least they had little choice but to continue to rely on Russia while their own defence forces remained nonexistent or ill-equipped to deal with cross-border threats or civil conflict, for example the events on the Tajik–Afghan border. Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan recognised that it was in their long-term interests to maintain friendly relations with both Russia and China. Thus, in a speech in London in 1997, the Kazakh foreign minister stated that the first priority of Kazakhstan’s security strategy was maintenance of ‘trustworthy and equal relations with Russia, our closest and historically friendly neighbour’ and the second priority was ‘the same neighbourly (sic) relations of trust with China’. The last on the list of priorities was the strengthening of relations with the West, including the United States.16 Kyrgyzstan also made it clear that in security matters at least, Russia was more important than China. At the time of Li Peng’s visit to Bishkek in 1994, President Akaev’s spokesman said that Akaev appreciated China’s understanding of the need to give priority to friendship with Russia and other CIS states.17 Initial optimism that Russia and the United States’s interests would coincide in the region proved unfounded: Lukin, addressing parliament in hearings on Russian foreign policy in 1992 expressed the hope that a ‘stable and democratic Russia’ would support the USA in the ‘unstable geopolitical space’ of the former Soviet space, and in particular, would be a ‘real partner in the constructive restraint of Islamic fundamentalism’.18 But it seemed that the United States might prefer Turkey as a partner in Central Asia, or even, as Zbigniew Brzezinski postulated, China. Indeed, Brzezinski claimed that China could curb excessive Russian influence in Central Asia, which might accord with the United States’ ‘grand geostrategic interests [. . .]’19 From the Russian viewpoint, the United States seemed more interested in ensuring control of energy resources than in cooperating with Russia. Thus in May 1996, Prime Minister Viktor

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Chernomyrdin told a CIS conference on energy security in Moscow that Western companies were trying to gain control of the region’s energy reserves and posed a threat to CIS security. Zbigniew Brzezinski’s advocacy of ‘geopolitical pluralism’, whereby the Central Asian states should be encouraged to act as independently of Russia as possible, was viewed in Moscow as more or less official Washington doctrine. There were differing interpretations of the implications of China’s position as a net oil importer: in the long term, its interests could clash with those of Russia. However, cooperation in the energy field also seemed a possibility, as shared suspicion of Turkey has meant that both Russia and China prefer oil routes going via Iran. Samuel Huntington pointed out that China’s oil needs would mean forging closer relations with Iran, Iraq and Saudi Arabia, as well as Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan.20 It should be borne in mind, however, that historically China has also been wary of Iranian influence, and therefore not necessarily ill-disposed to the political role of the United States in the region.21 Russian policymakers were ambivalent regarding China’s bid for influence in Central Asia, and many saw this as a dangerous trend. For example, Vladimir Miasnikov of the Institute of Far Eastern Studies feared that China might now seize the opportunity to fill the vacuum left by the demise of the USSR, establishing dominance in ‘a huge arc’ from southern China to the Caspian Sea and from the Pamirs to the Korean peninsula. Furthermore, the Chinese could exert pressure on Russia leadership by exploiting the differences between the former republics and Russia. This would mean therefore a significant reduction in security on Russia’s southern borders. On the other hand, notes Miasnikov, this did not preclude ‘an overwhelming coincidence of geopolitical interests’ between Moscow and Beijing.22

The Moslem factor If there was one factor that united Russia and China in terms of their respective security concerns, it was the rise of radical Islam in the region, in particular the instability resulting from the Tajik civil war, actions of Uzbek Islamists in the Fergana valley, and the rise of the Taleban in Afghanistan in the second half of the 1990s. In a meeting with Qian Qichen in November 1992, Kozyrev emphasised the importance to Russia of Central Asia: ‘It is very important . . . that Central Asia remains a CIS sphere and not a sphere of extremist forces and, in particular, of Islamic fundamentalism. And in this I think, we can count on mutual understanding from our great neighbour.’23 For this reason, the Chinese were relieved to find that by early 1992 neither ‘pan-Turkic nationalism nor militant Islam’ were engulfing the Central Asian states.24 On the other hand, problems with China’s own Moslem minorities in the Xinjiang Autonomous republic continued. In June 1993 there was a terrorist bomb attack in Xinjiang, although later unrest apparently shifted to more rural areas in the south.25 Subsequently, there was a big crackdown by the Chinese authorities and in February 1997 100 Uighurs were executed in China for alleged involvement in riots in Xinjiang.26

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The problem affected Central Asia too, as in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan there were sizeable numbers of Uighurs (Kyrgyzstan borders on Kashgar in Xinjiang, described by Beijing as a ‘hotbed’ of Uighur separatism27), and in March 1997 Uighurs staged a protest outside the Chinese embassy in Almaty.28 It should be noted that the Uighur separatist movement is not a unified one; for example, in 1988 an Uighur official claimed there were ‘more than seven Uighur exile groups secretly fomenting secessionism in Xinjiang’. However, today there are, roughly, two main groups – the radical ‘People’s Revolutionary Front of the United Nationalities of East Turkestan’, and the ‘Freedom Party of the Uighurs’, this second group being the more moderate of the two.29 In this context the border agreements signed by Russia and China with Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan in 1996, acquired increased significance. Beijing’s fears that cross-border links with the new Central Asian states would lead to heightened nationalism in Xinjiang were calmed by reassurances of a general nature from the Central Asian leaders regarding the undesirability of separatist movements. On the other hand, the leaders of Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan were not always happy regarding China’s treatment of the Uighurs. Thus, in 1997, following the crackdown by Chinese authorities in Xinjiang, the secretary of Kazakhstan’s Security Council expressed disquiet at ‘the harsh measures of the Chinese’.30 In contrast to Russia, China’s approach to the region was very much informed by economic rather than political considerations: ‘a new Silk Road’ of modern railways and highways as a transmission belt that could project Chinese wealth and influence far westward, not only through Central Asia, but to Iran and the Middle East’.31 As part of this bid to restore the ‘Silk Road’, new infrastructure was proposed, including the Andijan–Osh–Kashgar highway, which linked Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan with China and was opened in July 1997.32 On a visit to Central Asia in spring 1994, Li Peng, noted that China was reviving its traditional ties with the Central Asian states, which had been ‘severed by Russia and the USSR’s reign in the region’.33 Li also said that China would adhere to four basic principles in its relations with the states of Central Asia which included respecting their independence and sovereignty, promising that China would not pursue a sphere of influence in Central Asia, political or economic.34 This last was clearly meant as a sop to Russian sensibilities: China was aware that the new republics wished to reduce their dependence on Russia, in both political and economic terms; closer ties with China could benefit the Central Asian states in terms of closer integration with the Asia-Pacific. As one Chinese academic emphasised: The Central Asian countries are all landlocked countries. For the development of their trade with countries far away, they need to find outlets to the sea. In China they can find an easy access to East Asia and a good outlet to the Pacific Ocean.’35 The construction of a pipeline to bring Turkmen natural gas to markets in China, Japan and other Asia-Pacific countries was but one example.36

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Energy issues Oil is a crucial aspect of China’s attitude towards Central Asia. At one point China hoped that the development of the Tarim Basin in Xinjiang would have the potential to supply China with oil and gas for a considerable period. However, it became clear that China’s increased energy needs would hardly be satisfied by the reserves in Xinjiang. One energy expert surmised that ‘importing Russian and Central Asian oil and gas through the pipeline development is the choice China has to make to achieve a longterm energy supply balance’.37 China is the world’s second largest energy consumer and between 1995 and 2015 its oil consumption was set to increase by 4.9 per cent each year. In 1997 two-thirds of its oil was still imported from the Middle East,38 but developments in the Middle East in the late 1990s meant China would have to look for alternative sources of energy. This then is why China continued to be interested in maintaining good relations with both Iran, one of the Caspian littoral states, and Russia, the key security provider in the region. However, there were signs that Russia might no longer be able to lay down the conditions for the routes of these pipelines. This was further reason for China to court the Central Asian states independently of Moscow. In March 1997, agreement was reached on construction of an oil pipeline stretching from Kazakhstan to the Pacific coast of China.39 China National Petroleum Corporation was active in bidding for contracts to develop Kazakh oilfields, and in June 1997 declared its intention to construct a pipeline from the Aktiubinsk oil field in Western Kazakhstan to Xinjiang.40 Given the common concerns regarding Islamic fundamentalism and economic issues, China and Central Asia have become ‘natural economic and political partners . . . For Central Asia the relationship is also an essential balance to offset pressures from Russia and Muslim neighbours to the south.’41 By the end of 1992 China ranked as Uzbekistan’s leading trade partner outside the CIS.42 Trade was particularly high with Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan, although SinoKyrgyz trade was initially mainly cross-border, and the primitive nature of trade was reflected in the figures, which remained low. Nevertheless turnover gradually increased, reaching a high of US$699 million in 1997.43 China’s trade with the Central Asian states was dwarfed by the volume of trade between Russia and Central Asia: thus in 1997, the total volume of trade between Russia and Central Asia was US$6,833 million, while trade with China reached only US$699 million.44 Chinese academics’ views of the Central Asian states in the 1990s were usefully summarised by Gudrun Wacker: thus one scholar sees Russia’s changed stance vis-à-vis Central Asia (i.e. the bigger push for CIS integration) as linked to the tensions between Washington and Moscow regarding the expansion of NATO. Chinese academics also believed the Central Asian states might see China as a counterweight to Russian as well as American influence, although the Chinese tended to see the economic success of the Central Asian states as the decisive factor in terms of becoming less dependent on Russia.45 Certainly

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Primakov in an interview shortly after assuming the post of foreign minister stressed that all integrative processes taking place in the CIS would indirectly influence Russian relations with the rest of the world, in particular with the United States.46 In general, China’s overwhelming interest in maintaining stability in the region meant that Russia’s role as the main security provider in the Central Asian region was welcomed. At the same time, China’s own interests in the region were increasing, in particular in the energy sphere.

The southern axis Other states in the wider region, such as India and Iran, were also concerned that events in Afghanistan and Tajikistan could spill over into the wider arena. Pakistan’s support of the Taleban had increased friction with Iran, so Huntington’s speculation that there were those in Pakistan who looked forward to the ‘Tehran–Islamabad–Beijing’ axis, appeared unlikely.47 Some Russian academics suggested that Russian influence over India and Iran was useful in so far as it could mean additional leverage over the United States, China, Turkey and Pakistan.48 It was certainly the case that ‘the US policy of isolating Iran has helped perpetuate the political and economic dependence on Russia of a number of these southern republics [i.e. Tajikistan, Azerbaijan and Uzbekistan]’.49 Russia continued to keep India in play as a useful ally in the region and as a counterweight to Chinese regional ambitions. As an article in Krasnaia zvezda observed, events in Afghanistan and the victory of the Taleban begged the question for Moscow of its choice of strategic allies: i.e. those governments whose interests correspond to Russian interests. Describing India as a ‘great power’ in Asia, the article pointed out that India had even more reason to be described as Russia’s strategic partner ‘than a host of countries who were pronounced as such in the last year or so’, a clear reference to China.50 Andrei Kokoshin (then still Deputy Defence Minister), writing in 1996, also drew attention to the fact that ‘India is seen in Russia as one of the few and natural long-term geopolitical partners’.51 Despite the legacy of suspicion and hostility, there were compelling reasons for China and India to move closer together, at least in curbing militant Islam. India’s fears regarding its Moslem minority in Kashmir are echoed by China’s fears regarding Xinjiang. In this they are supported by Russia, which shares both India and China’s fears of Islam as a threat to their territorial integrity and, indeed, secular identity.52 China’s arming of Pakistan, however, ensured that Moscow would continue to arm India with the caveat that ‘these weapons will only be used defensively, and will not alter the strategic balance in the region’.53 The extreme end of the spectrum was represented by politicians such as Vladimir Zhirinovskii who believed that ‘India and Russia together will neutralise China in Asia. With Germany, Russia can neutralize Europe.’54 Others proposed an anti-NATO alliance composed of three ‘axes’: one of Germany, Russia and Japan; a second consisting of a ‘Russia–China–India’ bloc to help China in expanding via South Kazakhstan and Iran to Turkey. A third

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German–Russian–Japanese bloc would divide up Europe, Southeast Asia, Africa and Latin America into spheres of influence.55 While such views were beyond the pale in political terms, the idea of a ‘Russia–China–India’ bloc was put forward by Primakov in December 1998 as a means of ensuring stability on the Eurasian continent, and was trotted out from time to time. For the time being, China remained a relatively marginal player in Central Asia both economically and politically, and Beijing recognised Russia as an important guarantor of stability in the region as well as a counterweight to American and Turkish influence. For Russia, in domestic terms at least, it is of the utmost importance that China, unlike the West, recognises the legitimacy of its role in both Central Asia and the wider arena of the Commonwealth of Independent States. Thus at a conference on security and cooperation in central Asia held in Uzbekistan in autumn 1995, China stated explicitly that only Russia could serve as a guarantor of stability in Central Asia, and that security issues should be resolved on the basis of Moscow’s relations with the states of the region.56 The 1996 Shanghai Five agreements were gradually evolving into a forum where the ‘Five’ could address security concerns: in the wake of Wahabbist violence in Uzbekistan and around the Fergana valley, and increased Uighur separatist activity in Xinjiang, as well as the continuing threat emanating from Afghanistan, including narcotics trafficking. In July 1998 a summit of the ‘Five’ was held in Almaty and a further summit took place in Bishkek in August 1999, in the wake of the Kosovo crisis. At this summit the agenda of the Five appeared to be broadening as all pledged to combat national separatism and extremism. Russia and China also took the opportunity to refer to NATO’s actions in Kosovo as the ‘new manifestation of hegemonism and power politics’.57

Russia and China in the Asia-Pacific If China was still a marginal player in Central Asia, the same could be said of Russia in the Asia-Pacific. While China viewed Russia as the lynchpin of security and stability in Central Asia, in the Asia-Pacific the US–Japanese security alliance continued to provide stability. Both Russia and China remained ambivalent on the merits of this alliance, but for China the implications of the September 1997 ‘Guidelines for Japan–US Defence Cooperation’ which referred to joint action in ‘areas surrounding Taiwan’, were more serious than for Russia, and Beijing perceived the Guidelines as legitimising future US security structures involving Taiwan. American requests to Japan that it participate in the proposed Theatre Missile Defence system which intercepts incoming missiles in the air represented a major source of concern to China. Russia also protested against these proposals, charging that this would constitute a violation of the ABM Treaty. For example, at a meeting between Jiang Zemin and Igor’ Sergeev, the Russian Defence Minister in autumn 1998, Sergeev asserted that the close-range ballistic missile system would ‘tip the balance’ in the region.58 For the smaller countries of the region, despite the legacy of the Second World War and a deep-seated hostility towards Japan, there was still suspicion

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of Chinese motives, for example, China’s territorial claims in the South China seas. Moreover, the collapse of the Soviet Union and the defeat of Vietnam in Cambodia reduced the need of the ASEAN states to cooperate with China, as China now had arguably less influence in this region than either the USA or Japan.59 Notwithstanding this lack of influence, China still had a greater voice in the region than Russia, and this was nowhere more apparent than on the issue of the Korean peninsula.

The Korean Peninsula The importance to Russia of settling the nuclear issue on the Korean Peninsula was underscored by the declaration at the first Sino-Russian summit in December 1992: Russia and China were ‘unanimous in their view that preservation of stability on the Korean Peninsula, and its transformation into a zone of nuclear and other types of weapons of mass destruction has an important significance for peace and development in the region’ [. . .] the further development of China’s and Russia’s relations with North and South Korea will help stability and security on the Korean Peninsula.60 Judging by this statement, Russia clearly hoped its good relations with North and South Korea would allow it to work in combination with China to resolve the Korean nuclear issue. (China had established diplomatic relations with South Korea only in August 1992.) But in day-to-day Russian diplomacy, relations with North Korea appeared to be low down on the list of foreign policy priorities. Russia’s early position on human rights vis-à-vis both China and North Korea could only alienate the two states. In some ways the attitude towards North Korea was a mirror of early attitudes towards China by El’tsin’s coterie. As relations with China steadily improved, it seemed safe to repair relations with North Korea: the ideological straitjacket of the ‘New Thinking’ had been removed, and the new ‘balanced’ foreign policy from late 1992 onwards meant a rethink of the earlier demonisation of the rogue state. An early article by a MID official on the question of Korea had concluded that the withdrawal from South Korea of American nuclear weapons, and the planned reduction there of the US military presence, would create objective conditions for the realisation of the creation of a nuclear-free zone on the peninsula to include Russia, the United States and China as guarantors.61 The significance accorded to the Korean peninsula by politicians and academics was high: taking an ‘active part’ in the Korean settlement, it was suggested, was part and parcel of a necessary strategy of using political and military instruments to compensate for the low level of Russia’s economic participation in the Asia-Pacific region.62 Indeed, such was the significance attached to this issue that analysts and politicians were convinced Russia would surely be invited to play a part in resolving it. Thus Aleksandr Gol’ts, writing in Krasnaia zvezda surmised that ‘life itself is pointing to Russia as an extremely important player in resolving both the peninsula’s nuclear problem and the problems of Asian security’.63 In March 1995 Kozyrev maintained that Russia should be the one to supply light-water nuclear reactors to North Korea, noting petulantly that

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it had after all originally been Russia’s idea to supply this type of reactor. ‘And it would be strange if Russia did not play the most active part in the implementation of this idea.’64 However, these were desperate attempts to maintain a profile for Russia at a point when it was clear that the resolution of the Korean issue was to be decided by the United States together with China and the two Koreas. Russian proposals in spring 1994 of an international conference (to include Japan, USA, China, Russia plus the two Koreas) to turn the Korean Peninsula into a nuclear-free zone were received coolly by the other parties. While it is true that the issue of North Korean nuclear proliferation is the one area of international significance on which Russia, China, Japan and the United States all agree,65 the means of dealing with North Korea were, and continue to be, very different. Thus Russia and China were both against imposing sanctions on North Korea when its government withdrew from the Non-Proliferation Treaty in March 1993. A press conference by the MID stressed that diplomatic channels should be relied upon in dealing with North Korea.66 Initially, Russia had supported UN sanctions against North Korea in the event of it not fulfilling its pledge to IAEA, but later China refused to support sanctions against North Korea, while at the same time strongly supporting the non-nuclear status of the peninsula. Russia was quite prepared to continue to supply military materiel to North Korea. While acknowledging El’tsin’s promise to South Korea to discontinue military aid to Pyongyang, Russia declared it would proceed on the basis that North Korea was a full member of the United Nations on whom no sanctions had been imposed and ‘therefore there are no legal obstacles to commercial supply of any kind of weapons to this country’. A caveat stated that the weapons should not violate the present balance of power between North and South, thus the supply of offensive (my italics) weapons would not be contemplated. The rationale for the supply of these weapons was plain: ‘while appreciating all this and on condition that deals are paid for immediately and not on credit terms, I think there should be no obstacles to our military supplies to North Korea.’67 It later emerged that the Pacific Fleet had sold four Russian submarines of the Foxtrot type to North Korea: the submarines were apparently designed as attack vessels and were ‘still serviceable’.68 As far as China’s own interests in the Korean peninsula were concerned, these were not always clear-cut. Thus the Chinese were perfectly capable of maintaining cordial relations with the South, while keeping in place its alliance with the North. Moreover, while the Chinese continued to be almost the sole provider of humanitarian assistance to the DPRK, they denied having any real influence over the DPRK’s policies.69 Moreover, China is ambivalent regarding Korean reunification and would most likely not welcome a united Korea in particular if its security arrangements were linked in with the USA and Japan. Regarding domestic Russian views of the Korean problem, most were agreed that policy towards Korea had been ad hoc and poorly planned. The issue had become a rallying point for those who saw the early years of Russia’s Asian policy as too skewed towards Japan and South Korea. Naturally, initial Russian

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disengagement from North Korea was bound to provoke cries of derision from the nationalist factions in the Russian parliament, but other, more moderate and centrist voices like Lukin and Rybkin, also pressed the government for explanations of its policy towards North Korea.70 Russia’s marginalisation as a player in the resolution of the situation on the Korean Peninsula provoked a deep sense of bitterness in Russian elite circles, but also a realisation that it was their own lack of policy which was to blame for loss of influence. Subsequently, Russia conducted a more balanced policy, preparing perhaps for a unified Korea that might begin to invest more heavily in the Russian Far East. The ‘balanced policy’ appeared to include the resumption of military cooperation with North Korea. Thus in February 1997, the MID announced that Russia was to resume ‘normal military and technical cooperation’ with Pyongyang to ‘balance’ the decision to sell arms to South Korea.71 How much leverage this ‘balanced policy’ would actually give Russia is debatable, but a commentary in Krasnaia zvezda in early 1998 boasted that ‘Moscow is probably the only world capital which has equally close relations with both Pyongyang and Seoul’. Despite this apparent advantage, however, Russia, along with Japan, had been excluded from the four-way talks of both Japan and Russia.72 Thus Russia’s ‘balanced policy’ towards Korea in fact served to heighten the influence of Beijing and Washington and decreased Moscow’s leverage. As Soh remarks, ‘changes in previous Soviet policy meant North Korea began to make overtures to the United States and Japan’,73 and the United States included China in the talks, presumably recognising that China had more leverage with the two Koreas than did Russia.

Russia, China and the US–Japan alliance In 1990 a major US review of the strategic future of the Asia-Pacific still regarded the USSR as the major threat, but stressed that in future the US role would be as ‘regional balancer, honest broker, and ultimate security guarantor’. In 1992, another strategic review indicated troops were to be cut further (in 1990 a mooted withdrawal of 10,000 out of a total of 110,000), but in February 1995 Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security, Joseph S. Nye now had to reassure frightened Asian governments that ‘a new official report held that the cut-backs resulting from the end of the Cold War had finished and “no further changes in war fighting capability [were] currently planned”.’74 VicePresident Al Gore, on his way to Beijing for talks with the Chinese leadership in 1997, ruled out cuts in the Pacific theatre, specifically in Japan, stating that this was the ‘ “worst time” for such reductions’.75 A not untypical Russian reaction to the proposed reanimation of the US–Japanese alliance in 1996 claimed that ‘short-sighted actions’ by Washington meant that Beijing and Moscow were shifting their emphasis to geopolitical aspects of cooperation due to Moscow’s concerns about NATO expansion eastwards, up to Russia’s present borders, and Beijing’s concerns regarding the apparent anti-Chinese nature of new US plans for Missile Defence. It was

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argued that Washngton’s policies could provoke Moscow and Beijing into a renewal of the Sino-Soviet alliance.76 It was suggested by others that the renewal of the US–Japanese security alliance meant that one could not rule out China requesting support from Russia in the context of the joint goal of strategic cooperation in the next century.77 Even in the early days of the new Russian diplomacy, foreign policy decision makers were particularly sensitive to suggestions that the reduction of the Russian threat to the Asia-Pacific could mean an expanded US influence in the region. For example, in May 1992, the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs reacted angrily to a statement by the commander of the 7th US Fleet, Admiral Lawrence, that the USA would welcome the transformation of ASEAN into a military bloc. The Russian press release stated that with the end of the era of bipolar military confrontation, ‘viewing the region through the prism of fixed military groupings was an anachronism’.78 A specific concern of China’s has always been that the US alliance with Japan could ‘become the keystone of an anti-China containment structure’.79 Therefore the correspondence of Russian views on the alliance could only be welcomed by China. However, due to the diminished power of the Russian naval forces in the Pacific, one cannot discount the fact that Moscow probably saw the alliance as a means of checking Chinese naval power in the future. In reality Chinese naval potential still lagged far behind that of either the United States, Russia or Japan. However, taking into account the reduction in the US military presence as well as cuts in Russia’s forces, Chinese naval formations were becoming more significant. As we have seen, Russia was helping China to update its weaponry and is selling it qualitatively advanced destroyers and submarines. On the other hand, the Chinese had begun modernising their navy already in the 1970s, so that from the 1980s onwards, on average one destroyer or submarine as well as an average of three minesweepers were launched each year.80 Chinese analysts see the broadening of the alliance very much in terms of a US bid to ensure its continued presence in the region and the world as a whole as the dominant power. Chinese scholar Xia Liping said that the strengthening of the US–Japan alliance will have a major negative effect on the adjustment of relations among large nations in the Asia-Pacific region. According to him, this demonstrated that the United States and Japan had once again raised the issue of military security to the level of top priority in the relations between the two nations, and that the United States was trying to rely on military might to maintain its ‘one and only superpower’ status. At the same time, the strengthening of the US–Japan Treaty of Mutual Cooperation and Security turned the ‘defense system’, which was designed to ‘protect’ Japan during the Cold War, had suddenly been transformed into a new military alliance aimed at the entire AsiaPacific region. This, he argued, not only pulled Japan into the post-Cold War global military strategy of the United States but also meant that Japan now had the opportunity to ‘vigorously develop its military forces’.81 American advocates of a China ‘containment’ policy argued that in the 1990s, China had begun deliberately to pursue policies which were against US interests, and its ultimate objective was to supplant the USA as the ‘pre-eminent

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power in Asia’.82 At the same time, American withdrawal from the region would pose a dilemma for Beijing, as the vacuum might be filled by Japan, or even a united Korea. Thus a weakening of American commitment might leave China facing security dilemmas on its own, i.e. with none of the balancing effect of US power.83 Certainly most of the leading American analysts believed the continuance of the US–Japan alliance was key to stability in the region, in particular in relation to Chinese ambitions.84

Russia, China and multilateral mechanisms At first the United States was reluctant to accept multilateralism in the AsiaPacific. However, realising the need to engage China and encourage it to take part in cooperative security dialogue, the USA moved to encourage the establishment of a new multilateral organisation. This eventually bore fruit with the creation of the ASEAN Regional Forum.85 The declared purpose of the Forum was ‘for ASEAN and its dialogue partners to work with other regional states to evolve a predictable and constructive pattern of relationships in Asia-Pacific’.86 As Yahuda points out, the ARF was seen as ‘an important body for incorporating China within multilateral approaches in the hope that it would develop as a “good citizen of international society” as it inevitably grows in power’.87 Russia viewed the forum as an important component in moves towards a more multipolar world. At a Jakarta meeting of the ASEAN Regional Security Forum in May 1996, Russia and China proposed a security arrangement for the APR based on the five-power confidence-building agreement signed in Shanghai the previous month.88 Considering the renewal of the US–Japan security alliance, which was signed just before the Shanghai agreement, one may assume this was aimed at discovering US intentions. Russian Foreign Ministry officials emphasised that China and Russia could assist each other in terms of gaining access to key forums: [. . .] Russia has great potential to help increase China’s role as a world power. And at the same time the Chinese side could seriously assist Russia’s entry to the system of regional integration in order to support a global balance of power advantageous to both states.89 Li Peng underlined the importance to China of ASEAN as a means of promoting regional security in his report to the National People’s Congress in March 1995.90 This was clearly a convenient way for China to counterbalance US power while at the same time assuaging the concerns of Southeast Asia as to Chinese moves in the South China seas. However, despite ASEAN’s concerns regarding Chinese intentions, as one analyst concludes, the paradox for a Russia wishing to side with China against the USA and Japan is that on democracy and human rights ASEAN supported China, but when it came to security issues ASEAN still supported US policy, because the US was still the only guarantor of ‘peace and stability’ in the region.91 Nevertheless, Russia had its own con-

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cerns regarding Chinese military potential, so security structures such as the ARF could be a means of containing China in the future.

Conclusion As we have seen, Russia remained on the sidelines in terms of resolving security issues in the Asia-Pacific region and was not yet taken seriously by China in terms of regional economic integration. Residual distrust meant that it was conceivable that, despite the rhetoric, there could come a day when China might welcome NATO expansion to Russia’s borders as a means of containing Russia in Central Asia (if membership in NATO were to be extended to the Central Asian states), while in the Asia-Pacific, Russia welcomed the US–Japan alliance as a brake on Chinese expansion, in particular in the direction of the Russian Far East. For the time being, China’s territorial claims did not appear to lie in Russia’s direction. Indeed, China’s security in this area had improved since the collapse of the Soviet Union, leaving China free to concentrate on other areas. It was, nevertheless, useful to China in political terms to be assured of Russian support on such issues as the US–Japan alliance and the sovereignty of Taiwan. However, of far greater importance to Russia than Chinese concerns in the South China Seas was the nature of its relations with China on the Eurasian landmass, in Central Asia and around the joint border in the Russian Far East. As the El’tsin era drew to a close, events in Kosovo brought sharply into focus the differences in worldview between Russia and China on the one hand, and the West on the other. The abrogation of the ABM treaty closed the door on the old order: China and Russia were fearful of what the new century might hold, as security structures were dismantled. Russia’s hopes that the USA might become its partner against Islamic fundamentalism in Central Asia went unfulfilled, and Russia’s initial neglect of the region raised concerns that positions would be lost to China or the USA. An abiding feature of the El’tsin years was that Russia continued to view relations with China through the prism of relations with the West: ‘The West has only itself to blame for the renaissance of Sino-Russian relations. This could have been avoided if the West had been prepared to discuss global problems in a more even-handed way.’92

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The development of our economic cooperation cannot be made to depend on a political solution, on the question of the Kuril Islands. Particularly now that Russia is going through such a hard time . . . In fact Japan is the only country that has not yet invested anything in Russia . . . When we have good relations and good cooperation, then maybe we will talk with Japan about the islands. (Boris El’tsin)1

Bilateral relations: hostage to the territorial dispute When Gorbachev delivered his groundbreaking speech at Vladivostok in 1986, the Japanese did not like the emphasis on the centrality of Sino-Soviet relations and Gorbachev’s failure to acknowledge Japan as a power in its own right. Under Gorbachev the contradiction between the political–ideological downgrading of Japan and its practical economic significance became ‘glaringly apparent’.2 Despite a belated recognition by Gorbachev of Japan’s importance at least in economic terms, little headway was made in Soviet–Japanese relations. This was in no small part due to the Japanese insistence on a policy of sekei fukabun, or the non-separation of politics and economics. This held that until the four ‘Northern Territories’ (Kurils in Russian) were returned to Japan, no financial aid or large-scale investment could be contemplated. Thus on Gorbachev’s first official visit to Japan in April 1991 he commented bitterly that the Japanese ‘persisted in reminding us of the principle of the linkage between politics and economics’.3 At the time, Gorbachev also faced difficulties on the domestic front, which restricted his room for manoeuvre. This chapter sets out to examine the whole panoply of bilateral relations from Gorbachev to El’tsin. Unlike the chapter on China, it is not possible to divide this into thematic sections, as the territorial issue comes into play in all aspects of relations, political, economic and security, at least up until 1996. I will look first at general attitudes in Russia and Japan and how the two nations perceive each other. This section is followed by a brief history of the territorial dispute, which is essential background to understanding Russo-Japanese relations. There then follows a section concerning the course of economic relations up until

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1991. The final section looks at how El’tsin has dealt with this legacy from his time as leader of the RSFSR, competing with Gorbachev for power, through to 1999, when El’tsin resigned, having failed to sign a peace treaty. It is my contention that Evgenii Primakov as Foreign Minister (1996–98) was able, by asserting Russian national interests, to disentangle the linkage between politics and economics, thereby leaving the ball firmly in Japan’s court.

General attitudes in Russia and Japan The view from Moscow The key to understanding Russo-Japanese relations is that each side has harboured misperceptions of the other’s motives and intentions. Since 1905 and the Russo-Japanese war, the perception of Japan in Russia has been of a militaristic and duplicitous nation whose motives consist of pure self-interest. Such feelings were naturally compounded by Japan’s behaviour in the Second World War, and indeed continued afterwards. In the words of Semyon Verbitskii, ‘ “Japanese” was synonymous with “samurai”, “militarist” and “spy” ’.4 Stalin’s address to the Soviet people on the occasion of Japan’s surrender, emphasised the continuity between the Japanese aggression of 1905 and that of the Second World War; he stressed that the USSR had waited 40 years for Japan’s defeat and that henceforth the Kuril islands would serve ‘as the Soviet Union’s direct link to the ocean and a defence base for our country from which to resist Japanese aggression’.5 The view from Tokyo The feeling of mistrust was no less evident on the Japanese side: thus a leading Japanese analyst wrote that there was a need ‘to get rid of the deep distrust and feeling of threat from Russia that has built up over the years and still prevails among many Japanese’.6 Japanese academics’ views on relations with Russia tend to fall into a fairly hardline, conservative category. However, there have been dissenting voices, for example Tsuyoshi Hasegawa, who recognised that Japan’s attitude towards Russia often seemed to diverge from the rest of the Western world, and has been the subject of criticism. As one analyst points out, the taxpayers in all the other G-7 countries ‘seem to understand the provision of aid to Russia in national security, not historical terms’.7 Moreover, the degree of consensus in Japan regarding the Northern Territories issue, as Hasegawa points out, is worrying in the sense that in Japan, ‘in an open democracy voicing an opinion against this consensus still virtually remains taboo’.8 A common Japanese complaint too, was that Moscow treated Tokyo not as an equal power, but ‘grabbed’ its money, while refusing to reciprocate with concessions on the issue of the islands.9

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A brief history of the territorial dispute Under the Yalta Agreement, the entire Kuril island chain was handed over to the Soviet Union in accordance with provisions of the Cairo Declaration of 1945, which stated that Japan should ‘lose all islands in the Pacific which it has taken possession of or occupied since the start of the First World War in 1914’. Some argued that this should only have applied to Sakhalin, as Japan’s claims to the Kuril islands had been confirmed by the Treaty of St Petersburg in 1875.10 The Soviets claimed that Roosevelt and Churchill had agreed to return the islands in exchange for entering the war against Japan. Later, however, Churchill stated that the question of the Kurils was part of a ‘personal agreement’ between the Allies and that it was essentially an ‘American affair’.11 According to the Japanese, the neutrality pact signed by the Soviet Union and Japan in 1941 should theoretically have remained in force for five years, and if neither party denounced it one year before its expiration, then it was to remain in force for another five. In February 1945, Japan had approached Moscow to inquire whether the Far East had been discussed at Yalta. The Soviets simply replied: ‘Soviet–Japanese negotiations are confined to relations between the USSR and Japan and these are neutral’.12 For this reason, the Japanese see themselves as having been ‘deceived’ by the Soviet Union when it violated the neutrality treaty, and that this was a ‘humiliation’ for Japan.13 Today, Japan asserts that the Yalta decisions on the Kurils and Sakhalin are not binding in international law, as it signed the Potsdam Declaration in igno-

Map 5.1 Japan–USSR: Northern Territories/South Kurils.

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Map 5.2 Russian Far East, showing South Kurils.

rance of the Yalta decisions.14 (See Maps 5.1 and 5.2.) Furthermore, the San Francisco peace treaty with Japan of 1951 was not signed by the Soviets, which implies that any territory seized by the latter at the end of the war remains unconfirmed in law. By signing this treaty, Japan renounced all rights to the Kurils and parts of Sakhalin, but which islands did in fact belong to the Kuril chain remained unspecified. The rights to the islands were not assigned to any one country, but were left to future international decision. Richard deVillafranca stresses that there was a consensus that Shikotan and the Habomais were not

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part of the Kurils. At the time the Japanese did not contest this, but later when negotiations began with the Soviets in 1955, the Japanese agenda was to claim not only all four islands, but also Southern Sakhalin. Recent analysis of the dispute has suggested that the USA ‘deliberately frustrated Japan’s attempts to solve the dispute in 1956, telling the Japanese that if Japan recognised Soviet sovereignty over Kunashir and Iturup then the US would have the right to claim sovereignty over Okinawa and the Ryukyu islands.’15 By 1988 there were tentative moves by the Soviet leadership to revive the 1956 Joint Declaration which stated that the Soviet Union ‘agrees to transfer to Japan the Habomai islands and the island of Shikotan, the actual transfer of these islands to Japan to take place after the conclusion of a Peace Treaty . . .’16 Following the Declaration, however, and throughout the Gorbachev period, the Japanese refused to drop from the agenda the issue of the future status of the other two islands, Kunashir and Iturup, pressing the Soviets to acknowledge at least residual Japanese sovereignty over all four islands.17 The Soviet–Japanese summit in April 1991 failed due to a number of factors, not the least of which was a desire by the MID in particular to see the summit as the ‘apex’ of the process of perestroika in bilateral ties with Japan.18 The armed forces made it clear that any moves to remove troops from the islands as a concession to the Japanese could not be contemplated: and one week before Gorbachev arrived in Tokyo, Iazov stressed the significance of the islands for Soviet security, and declared that a decision on the islands could not be left to Gorbachev alone.19 His emphasis on the security aspect was underscored by the former Chief of General Staff, Sergei Akhromeev (now an adviser to Gorbachev) who refused to consider a reduction in troops on the islands.20 The inclusion in the delegation of Andrei Kozyrev, the RSFSR Foreign Minister and Vladimir Lukin, chair of the RSFSR Supreme Soviet Committee on Foreign Affairs made a united front unlikely. Many have said that El’tsin could have improved relations with Japan immediately after the August coup in 1991,21 but at the time El’tsin’s priorities lay elsewhere, and the question of resolving the dispute was valuable only in terms of his bid to sideline Gorbachev. There were discrepancies within El’tsin’s delegation to the Soviet–Japanese talks later in September 1991, with Georgii Kunadze, RSFSR Deputy Foreign Minister, advocating the return of two islands to the Japanese in line with the 1956 declaration, and El’tsin proposing a five-stage plan which would leave the decision to ‘future generations’.22 Nevertheless, El’tsin’s manoeuvrings did bring certain dividends: in October 1991, Tokyo announced a package of 2.5 billion dollars in aid for the former Soviet Union, the greater part of which was earmarked for the Russian Federation.

Economic cooperation: the illusion of complementarity Rumours were now whipped up that the 2.5 billion represented the ‘price’ for the islands. As opposition to El’tsin’s accommodation with the West (which included Japan) increased, the Japanese position which held that economics and

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politics were inseparable (sekei fukabun) made it increasingly difficult for El’tsin to obtain a solution to the dispute without facing accusations of ‘selling out’ Russia for financial gain. Before his appointment as RSFSR Deputy Foreign Minister, Georgii Kunadze, then still an academic at IMEMO, had suggested transferring two of the islands to Japan in line with the 1956 declaration and requesting compensation for the islands’ infrastructure of US$10 billion.23 It is this linkage between economic gain and territory which has made a solution so unpalatable. Once this linkage was established, the mere mention of Japanese development of Siberia and the Far East was liable to arouse suspicions of a quid pro quo deal, with the islands as the reward. In Aleksei Arbatov’s words, linking the return of the islands to economic aid would compromise Russian foreign policy, but at the same time ‘without Japan we cannot create a marketbased infrastructure in the [Russian] Far East’.24 Still, initial Russian estimations of Japanese intentions reveal a startling optimism. An article in a leading Moscow weekly stated that the development of relations with Japan would be a priority for Russian foreign policy and further, ‘there is reason to believe that the problem of the disputed islands will cease to be a stumbling block for those relations in the future. Japan, it seems, does not intend to link the questions of the “northern territories” directly to the development of trade and economic links with Russia.’25 During the 1970s and 1980s, the one-sided orientation towards Japan in the meant that key industries of the Soviet Far East became almost completely dependent on the state of bilateral Soviet–Japanese relations.26 However, by the late 1970s Japanese involvement in Siberian and Far Eastern development projects had been greatly reduced.27 This was partly due to the fact that Japan had by now successfully reoriented its economic structure from heavy industry to high technology, and had consequently become less dependent on Soviet fuel and energy resources.28 However, the huge Soviet military build-up at this time and the deterioration of détente by the beginning of the 1980s were also contributory factors. Those large-scale projects which Japan had been involved in, like the Sakhalin oil and gas project, were in any case unprofitable to the Japanese: by the mid-1990s Japan, more than 20 years after the first negotiations, had invested around $200 million, but had not received 1 tonne of oil and gas.29 It is ironic that in the 1960s and 1970s Japanese policy was to separate economics and politics, despite the territorial issue (the ‘Yoshida doctrine’). This meant that diplomatic relations were handled by one group, while economic relations were handled by a completely different group of actors in Tokyo. The focus at this time was on ‘resource diplomacy’, which meant ensuring a ‘constant supply of raw materials for Japanese industry’. Japan preferred, however, to limit this economic cooperation to the private sector, so that in 1981, 84 per cent of Soviet–Japanese trade was conducted by only seven companies. It was clear that the Japanese government did not wish the economic relationship to become intertwined with the diplomatic relationship.30 With the advent of Gorbachev, the Japanese had hoped that he would be interested in improving economic relations ‘for their own sake rather than as the

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means to a strategic end’. But as the economic and political situation in the USSR worsened, the Japanese saw ‘what had earlier been an interest in Japan’s assistance’ now ‘becoming a dire need’, and hence a way to regain the disputed islands.31 The USSR continually referred to Japan as being completely dependent on outside supplies of raw materials and energy, and therefore in need of Siberian natural resources, as well as constantly drawing attention to the complementary nature of the two economies, which led the Soviet Union to ‘overestimate the strength of its own negotiating position and to underestimate Japan’s capacity for diversification in policies involving raw materials and energy’.32 The Soviets later tried to use rapprochement with South Korea in 1991, and Gorbachev’s call for closer economic cooperation, as a means of putting pressure on Tokyo to drop its hard line on economic assistance. However, the Japanese were unyielding, seeing this as the old Soviet attempt to play countries off against each other. Another problem with the concept of developing the Far East with Japanese assistance was that there was no centrally formulated plan: thus in Khabarovsk, a day before the April 1991 Soviet– Japanese summit, Gorbachev mentioned that ‘the Soviet leadership had neither a conception nor a special programme for the development of the Far East, and such a programme would be developed immediately after his return’.33 In April 1989, the number of Soviet enterprises allowed to engage in foreign trade had been expanded and many were authorised to obtain hard currency credits. The number of Japanese companies trading with the Soviet Union increased temporarily, but by mid-1991 many Soviet firms were defaulting on payments to exporters, and the Japanese were not receptive to Soviet requests for loans to pay off these debts. One of the main channels for Japanese aid to post-Communist countries has been ‘Official Development Assistance’ (ODA), whose charter, inaugurated in 1992, has been described as a ‘prime example of “separation of politics from economics” ’.34 It is true that, after the fall of the Berlin Wall, Japan’s then prime minister declared the ‘primacy of political objectives’ of aid to Eastern Europe.35 However, there was opposition within Japan from both governing circles and the public to giving aid to Russia, and Russia was seen as a ‘liability for prime ministers at the polls and within the ruling party’.36 Aid under the ODA scheme can only go to nations that have made a full transition to democracy and the market economy. The misfortune for the Russian Far East has been that Japanese ODA is intended for developing regions, and the Russian Federation does not fit the category. Russia itself has been sensitive about being classified as such; witness Russia’s unease at receiving aid under the auspices of the World Bank. On the other hand, the Central Asian states and China, in particular (which has received billions of dollars in ODA assistance), have benefited greatly from being categorised as ‘developing nations’.

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The development of relations under El’tsin January 1990–December 1991: El’tsin tries to outmanoeuvre Gorbachev El’tsin outlined his five-stage plan for resolving the territorial dispute in January 1990. The first stage was simply to acknowledge the existence of the dispute. Stage two would entail the transformation of the islands into a free economic zone with special status for Japan, a period to last three to four years. The next phase would entail the withdrawal of the military formations on the islands, which would take between five and seven years. The fourth stage would last from 15 to 20 years and would see the signing of a peace treaty. Finally, a new generation would examine the problem from a new perspective.37 From the outset, El’tsin had used the Kuril issue to undermine Gorbachev’s negotiation efforts, appealing to the Russian chauvinist mood. On the eve of his election as president he stated: ‘reconsidering the borders now is out of the question: it would be blood again.’38 At the time, El’tsin was posturing in his struggle to outpace Gorbachev politically; his stance, appealing to Russian national interests, was to rebound on him the following year, when conservative forces in the parliament and the armed forces made it clear that no territory could be surrendered. When El’tsin had sent Ruslan Khasbulatov (the Speaker of the RSFSR Supreme Soviet) and Kunadze to Japan in summer 1991, Khasbulatov had been a firm ally. El’tsin could not have foreseen that, by the following year, his ally would become an adversary, who would use the issue of concessions to Japan to discredit El’tsin and in particular his Foreign Ministry. While allowing different groups to formulate varying solutions to the dispute, El’tsin did not come out in favour of any one plan, distancing himself from specific policies. There was still optimism that Japan would now come to Russia’s rescue with financial aid, and, specifically, with large-scale investment for the Russian Far East. Indeed it appears that Japan was using the bait of economic aid to wrest concessions from the new Russian leadership even before the collapse of the Soviet Union. Once Tokyo had announced its intention to earmark part of the credit package for RSFSR, Ruslan Khasbulatov, Speaker of the RSFSR Supreme Soviet, after meeting Foreign Minister Taro Nakayama in October 1991, became convinced that the Japanese had changed their position on the non-separation of politics and economics.39 However, it was becoming clear that there could be no quid pro quo deal in the prevailing political climate in Moscow. The Japanese, too, made their position on the issue clear, Tokyo’s ambassador to Moscow asserting that until the Japanese were satisfied that the new Russia was prepared to: abandon the legacy that has to do with the Soviet Union’s violation of international law and to become Japan’s partner worthy of assistance and cooperation, our democratic state will not get the nation’s approval in matters related to all-round assistance to Russia.40 The problem was that the Japanese, having observed Russian concessions over

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German unification, which involved financial compensation for the Soviet armed forces, now tried to apply this precedent to the Kurils issue. As Joachim Glaubitz points out, the Japanese had misunderstood the agreement on German unification.41 If Tokyo had looked closely at other examples within the former Soviet Union, such as Kaliningrad, Moscow’s stance should have been clear: in a speech to shipyard workers in Kaliningrad in early 1991, El’tsin made clear his position on redrawing borders: ‘If we use arguments from the past, these will destroy borders, not just in Europe but throughout the world.’42 There were certainly those in Japan who may have hoped that Russia’s acceptance of German unification and the independence of the Baltics meant that other post-war borders were negotiable.43 December 1991–September 1992: from optimism to stalemate The high hopes of the new Russian government did not last long. It soon became apparent that the positions of Moscow and Tokyo did not in the least coincide. Tokyo refused to invest, or even to allocate financial aid, unless there was movement on the territorial issue, while Russia would not discuss transfer of territory until a peace treaty had been signed. The Japanese were prepared to sign such a peace treaty only after the transfer of all four islands. Moscow’s position was made even more difficult by the emergence of a new factor – protests from its own citizens. From now on the views of the islands’ population would have to be taken into account. In October 1991, during a session of the Kurilsk raion soviet, a resolution was adopted to create a ‘Kurils Defence Committee’ and to declare 6 June a festival of the islands’ inhabitants (this being the day that the Ainu had been granted Russian citizenship, in 1778).44 On the same day, the presidium of the Kaliningrad oblast soviet of people’s deputies took a decision to send a telegram to its counterpart in Sakhalin oblast (to which the Kurils belonged) expressing its support for the stand of the leadership and population of Sakhalin regarding the Kurils.45 A few days later, the Far Eastern Association of the Soviets of People’s Deputies sent to the presidents of the USSR and the RSFSR a statement, which maintained that posing the question of the revision of borders was ‘illegal and immoral’.46 One of the first steps towards regularising relations was the reactivation of the permanent working group on the peace treaty, now in the Russo-Japanese rather than Soviet–Japanese format. The first session was held in early February, and discussed questions relating to visa free travel by Japanese to the Kurils, and of the islands residents to Japan. It was decided to operate two subgroups: one on territorial demarcation/delimitation, the other on further questions related to preparation of a peace treaty. The treaty and resolution of the territorial issue was acknowledged to be a high priority of Russian foreign policy.47 March 1992 saw the visit of Russian Foreign Minister, Andrei Kozyrev, to Tokyo where he held three rounds of talks with new Foreign Minister Michio Watanabe. The visit was expected to become a turning point in relations and to open a path to building links on the foundation of good-neighbourliness, trust, mutual understanding, and eventually also of alliance. In order to normalise rela-

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tions, the Russian government stressed the need to solve the problem of the lack of a peace treaty based on the principles of legality and justice. This was characterised as ‘one of the last vestiges of the cold war’, and the idea of cultivating links based on the formula ‘winners and losers’ of the Second World War rejected. In line with this, agreement was reached on joint publication by the Russian MID and the Japanese Gaimusho (Ministry of Foreign Affairs) of a volume of documents on the history of territorial delimitation between Russia and Japan.48 At the time, it had already been decided to hold a Russo-Japanese summit where a series of agreements on the development of relations in the practical sphere might be signed. One can assume that the Russian side was hoping the ‘practical sphere’ would mean investment from Japanese business. Indeed, at this stage the Japanese did indicate that government underwriting of Japanese business activity in Russia would commence, as well as assuring them of investment activity up to a total of $1.8 billion on the Russian market. In addition, the Japanese stated their willingness to agree on conditions for implementing large credits of $500 million which would thus unfreeze the economic support promised to the USSR in 1991, amounting to a total of $2.5 billion. A symbolic move was the agreement to open a Russian consulate in Niigata, and a Japanese one in Khabarovsk to facilitate an improvement in trade relations. Importantly, Japan expressed its support for Russian entry into the International Monetary Fund, a move Tokyo had previously opposed.49 As time went on, however, the Russian side began to express their impatience with Japanese stalling on investment and aid. In a press conference held by the head of the MID’s information department, Vitalii Churkin, shortly after Kozyrev’s trip, he admitted that When we think of our relations with Japan we are concerned by the fact that to a significant degree the huge potential of economic cooperation remains untapped. We are counting on being able to conduct talks in a more dynamic speed with the Japanese in terms of concluding a peace treaty. But that does not mean that following some or other economic interests, we are prepared to diverge from the principle of legality and justice. . . . At the same time we consider that Japan in the long-term, also has its own significant interests in the development of economic ties with our country. When the talk is of two great powers – on the one hand a European, and on the other an Asian power – then we need to think precisely about the long term perspective.50 As the date of the September summit drew closer, the divergence in expectations between the Japanese and the Russian side became increasingly stark. Russian Foreign Ministry officials were at pains to emphasise that the islands were not ‘for sale’. Georgii Kunadze emphasised that while law must be the guiding principle in talks with Tokyo, nevertheless: However much land we might have, however enormous our territory, we consider it to be our territory – and not an object for buying and selling and

70 Russian policy towards Japan under El’tsin not a pretext for doing deals. I do not see how that can affect our ability to sign a peace treaty with Japan.51 In early May, the new Foreign Minister Watanabe visited Russia to discuss preparations for El’tsin’s September visit. Talks continued on issues concerning the signing of a peace treaty, including territorial demarcation. However, shortly after Watanabe’s visit, the Japanese appeared to state that a compromise on the islands was to be reached that year. The Russian MID were swift to deny this interpretation, adding that a comparison of the two sides’ positions on the issue ‘based on the immutable approaches already set out by the USSR and Japan, . . . demonstrated their incompatibility’.52 The Japanese reports were in all probability related to the fact that just prior to Watanabe’s visit, troop reductions had been implemented on one of the Kuril islands. A MID press conference in late April had confirmed a 30 per cent cut was to take place in the number of military personnel stationed there, leaving approximately 7,000 soldiers, whose main responsibility consisted purely in protection of the border and assistance for naval forces.53 This was in line with former USSR Foreign Minister Boris Pankin’s pledge in 1991 to make a 30 per cent reduction in troops on the islands. At the same time, Pankin had signalled to Nakayama the Soviets’ interest in Japanese business activity on the Kurils.54 Japanese excitement about the significance of Russian troop withdrawals was quashed by Pavel Grachev, the Defence Minister, appointed in May 1992. The new Russian Defence Ministry had become a rival to the MID, hitherto the fount of all wisdom on matters relating to the territorial dispute. Until that point (March 1992) appeals regarding the strategic significance of the Kurils and the necessity of maintaining troops on the islands were lone voices without support from the centre, a situation which now changed. For example, the commander of the Pacific border military district, Lt.-Gen. Mikhail Barybin, insisted that the Sea of Okhotsk should be designated as an internal sea, which naturally implied the impossibility of admitting Japanese sovereignty over any of the islands. He railed against ‘foreign poachers’, and said that his district would establish ‘tough control’ in the zone. In a clear promotion of the border troops’ patriotic credentials, he claimed that fishermen in the Far East had been forced to appeal to the border troops for assistance to combat the activities of poachers.55 His replacement, Maj.-Gen. Vladimir Boruchenko, pointedly stated at his first press conference that the Kurils would remain Russian.56 Finally, the MID was obliged to issue another statement which emphasised that the planned troop reductions were in no way connected to talks on territorial demarcation, but were dictated by ‘general ideas about our surplus military presence’. The statement also stressed that El’tsin had spoken of the future and not of immediate plans, although it did not rule out ‘the eventual complete withdrawal of military personnel’.57 This ran counter to sources close to the Japanese Foreign Ministry, which were alleged to have reported Watanabe’s concern over the halt in demilitarisation of the South Kurils.58 Only a couple of weeks later, the MID was obliged to issue yet another statement regarding troops on the Kurils. This time

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El’tsin’s pronouncements in his talks with Watanabe were referred to as ‘unalterable’, i.e. Russia would effect a withdrawal of military personnel from the Kurils leaving only a border defence.59 The endless reports in the Japanese press that Russia had now withdrawn significant numbers of armed forces from the islands began to irk Russian diplomats. Thus Kunadze, speaking in July, said that while El’tsin’s pledge regarding troop withdrawals was still valid, its date had yet to be agreed within the administration. Kunadze added that the issue was a purely internal affair and was prompted by general considerations of military sufficiency, but also of optimising Russia’s military potential.60 At the same briefing, Kunadze spoke on the results of the first sessions of the working group on the peace treaty: while stating that the wording of the peace treaty had been finalised, the problem of territorial demarcation remained, with neither side having anything new to contribute at the final session. He rejected claims that the MID or government were conducting any secret talks with Japan, or doing secret deals. Russia was now committed to the principles of legality and justice he claimed, which made it incapable of acting in an obstructive Soviet manner.61 Despite publicly declared sentiments, the reality remained that the Japanese would not sign a peace treaty until it had regained the Kurils, while Moscow would not hand over any territory until it had a peace treaty. A few days before this briefing, Kozyrev, on a visit to Kamchatka, swore never to hand over the islands to Japan; although Lenin (as he recalled) wished to sell off Kamchatka for $20 million, ‘we have no such ideas’.62 The parallel with the Kurils was explicit, and he added, pointedly, that Kamchatka was Russia’s forward boundary, its security outpost in the Far East. Kozyrev took the opportunity to refer to Russian policy in Northeast Asia and the APR as a whole, noting that while Japan was an important partner for Russia, it was not the only one: what Russia needed, especially in the Far East, was a diversification of relations ‘without any monopoly’.63 There was also the question whether other countries which had unresolved territorial disputes with Russia could take advantage of negotiations with Japan. The Russian MID emphatically denied the possibility of a chain reaction scenario, asserting the uniqueness of the dispute with Japan; bilateral documents fixing the line of the border existed with all the other countries. However, the newly formed Russian Ministry of Defence held quite a different view, according to which transferring any of the islands to Japan was very likely to set off a chain reaction of territorial claims, and also weaken Russia’s position in negotiations with China on the joint border.64 Some viewed the situation from the other end: that is that Japan would seize on current border negotiations, such as those with China or Ukraine for example, to advance its own claims. Andrei Voskresenskii, a prominent Sinologist, argued that the Japanese press was watching closely how Russian border problems were resolved and looking for ‘the slightest precedent to use to their own advantage in Russo-Japanese relations’.65 The editor of a leading Russian newspaper told the Japanese analyst Hiroshi Kimura

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that ‘so long as Russia is quarrelling with Ukraine over Crimea, Russia finds it difficult to yield over the Northern Territories’.66 There was also confusion as to how to deal with the Soviet legacy in terms of obligations incurred by that regime. Thus in October 1991, while the RSFSR government was still competing with the USSR regime for influence with Japan, Vasilii Saplin stated that Russian diplomacy was now embarking on the road of independent foreign policy and must naturally take on all those problems inherited from the Soviet Union.67 However, eight months later, Kunadze said that: although the Russian government and Russia as a state is the continuer of the former USSR, the Russian government naturally cannot bear responsibility for those acts or failures to act, for the mistakes and even for the crimes which were carried out by the previous Soviet administrations.68 July 1992 saw preparations for the planned September summit begin to falter under the weight of opposition to territorial concessions. Parliamentary hearings were organised by the Committees on International Affairs and Foreign Economic Relations, and on Defence and Security. The main report was delivered by the Supreme Soviet Committee on Constitutional Affairs, headed by Oleg Rumiantsev. Although no final document was produced, it was sent onward to El’tsin for his scrutiny – the views of the foreign ministry were in any case in the minority.69 The hearings’ findings had a significant impact on the subsequent recommendations of the recently formed presidential Security Council. Evidence was presented by representatives of both the Main Naval Staff and the General Staff of the Russian armed forces, bolstered by the formation in May of a Russian Federation Defence Ministry. As well as pointing out that transferring territory to Japan could spark off a chain reaction of other claims, the Naval Staff stressed that such a move would divide the Pacific Fleet, depriving it of a warm-water outlet to the ocean and allowing the naval and air forces of the enemy access to the Sea of Okhotsk.70 More specifically, a representative of the unified CIS navy said that the early-warning system on the South Kurils was intended for revealing US cruise missiles, which was the first official confirmation of the presence of any military facility in the southern Kuril region connected to the nuclear strategy.71 The General Staff meanwhile proposed that the reduction in troops on the islands be suspended.72 One of the main criticisms expressed in Rumiantsev’s report was the secrecy surrounding negotiations with Tokyo, and the MID’s refusal to take on board different approaches to the territorial problem. While the report acknowledged that Russia did not have full legal rights to the islands, it claimed that Japan had none at all, apart from possible rights to the uninhabited islands of Habomai (off Hokkaido).73 In addition to their strategic and economic importance to Russia, the report presented evidence regarding the economic value of the islands. Rumiantsev said that the combined value of the islands’ mineral wealth was several times more than any assistance that might be rendered by Japan.74 A newspaper article claimed that the total value of the Kurils’ mineral resources was US$44.05 billion,75 while the deputy head of the Sakhalin oblast administration stated at

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the hearings that the total supplies of fish, geological, mineral and marine resources amounted to more than US$87 billion.76 These statements are highly questionable, as the mineral resources on the islands are negligible: Oleg Bondarenko describes how Soviet scholars, ‘attempting to determine the value of the islands to the USSR, feverishly searched the islands. Finally, they managed to unearth some bauxite, zinc, zircon, tin, wolfram and pig iron. However there are only very small deposits of all these minerals.’77 Fish stocks obviously represent the main economic resources of the islands. Most of the islanders are engaged in activities related to fishing, although the profits of fish-processing plants have fallen which has led to a drop in the number of those employed there. Still, were the Kurils to be transferred to Japan, the fish industry would incur heavy losses. As Bondarenko points out, the fishermen of the Far East together with the Ministry of Fisheries have been the most vocal opponents of territorial concessions after the military. In 1992, 1.2 to 1.3 million tonnes of fish and seafood were harvested every year from the shelf around the Kuril islands.78 This figure represents about 10 per cent of Russia’s total catch. An ongoing problem is that the fish stocks are not inexhaustible – overfishing and the use of driftnets have accelerated this trend. According to one prediction in 1992, stocks might last only another ten years, and this had led to Far Eastern fisheries indulging in ‘a feverish rate of fishing’ which would indeed end in stocks being completely depleted. The activities of both the fishing industry, but also the naval forces who damage marine resources with fuel and oil effluents, have led to serious ecological damage which may be irreversible.79 Unfortunately, these problems have received little attention from the Russian government. Whatever the merits of the various arguments put forward regarding the economic, military or political significance of the islands, Japan did itself no favours when it sought to internationalise the dispute by appealing to members of the G-7 in July 1992 to support Tokyo’s stance on the islands. While the Japanese got no more than a neutral statement from the other G-7 members, proposing a swift resolution of the dispute, opposition in the Supreme Soviet to compliance with IMF demands in order to satisfy conditions for G-7 aid placed serious constraints on El’tsin’s room for manoeuvre. However, the chief constraints were engendered by the disarray in the main institutions responsible for executing foreign policy decisions. There was also constitutional confusion as to which institution was responsible for which policy area. El’tsin himself helped to muddy the waters by allowing these different groups to express widely different views on the territorial dispute. For example El’tsin had set up a committee headed by Gennadii Burbulis, who favoured the ‘Kunadze option’, to organise the visit to Japan. Burbulis was at this time acting vice premier, and as such very close to the President. Kozyrev was seen by some as Burbulis’s ‘underling’, as the latter played a prominent role in foreign policy making until his removal in December 1992. The committee was set up in May 1992 at the same time as the creation of the new Presidential Security Council. It was peopled with numerous deputies with whom Burbulis was obliged to share different scenarios for solving the territorial problem. It was impossible to

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prevent these deputies from leaking their details to the press, who then presented them as definite plans.80 However, the Security Council, which was composed in the main of conservative military and industrial figures opposed to concessions to Japan, was far more influential than Burbulis’s committee, which now had to compete with Kozyrev for El’tsin’s attention. Indeed, Kozyrev expressed some disquiet when the remit of the Security Council appeared to increase, noting his preference for a greater role for the governmental, rather than presidential structures, as in the government there were more people ‘of a reformist tendency’.81 Meanwhile, visits were paid to Japan, first by Deputy Prime Minister Mikhail Poltoranin, from 3–8 August, and then by Iurii Petrov, head of the presidential administration, from 24–27 August. Poltoranin sought to ascertain the Japanese view on a ‘transition period’ in resolving the dispute, a stance which El’tsin had already discussed in Washington with Bush;82 Poltoranin added an extra dimension to his visit by seeking to involve the United States in resolving the territorial issue, stating, ‘this is no longer a bilateral problem, but a question of internationalization’.83 This was puzzling, as the previous month, Burbulis had expressly warned the Japanese not to internationalise the dispute at the G-7 meeting in July.84 Now Poltoranin appeared to contradict him, evoking a swift response from the MID which denied that his comments reflected official positions.85 Meanwhile, the Supreme Soviet Committee for International Affairs and Economic Relations issued a statement on 25 August to the effect that recognising any form of Japanese sovereignty over the islands would be ‘extremely dangerous’.86 At this time Petrov was in Tokyo to ‘test the waters’. Petrov demanded greater economic aid from Japan while emphasising the impossibility of territorial concessions, and on his return he warned that Japanese tactics of linking the territorial problem to other issues could not achieve progress in bilateral relations.87 Watanabe was in Moscow for a working visit to finalise plans for the summit from 29 August to 4 September. By this time, El’tsin must have realised that to visit Japan now would be political suicide. Indeed, just prior to Watanabe’s arrival in Moscow, El’tsin had expressed his dissatisfaction with the lack of Japanese support for Russian economic reforms. Watanabe countered by listing the contributions that Tokyo had made and warning that if Russia failed to return the Habomai islands and the island of Shikotan, Russia would retain the reputation of a country that broke its promises. He added that not returning the islands would mean no investment or economic cooperation.88 On the other hand, statements continued to be made on both sides to the effect that the visit was to be of historic significance and would herald the commencement of a gradual move towards full normalisation of relations on the basis of common values of freedom and humanity – only five days after Watanabe had returned to Tokyo, the visit was cancelled. The cancellation On 3 September, the day before Watanabe’s return to Japan, the Russian Presidential Security Service announced that while studying the security arrange-

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ments made for El’tsin’s forthcoming trip to Japan, it had found several factors which would make it impossible to guarantee the president’s security while in the Japanese capital. They cited the protests of Japan’s extreme right-wing groups who were demanding the return of the islands and protesting against El’tsin’s visit, as well as protests by extreme left-wing organisations who wanted El’tsin removed from power for betraying the proletariat. It was argued that during El’tsin’s visit these organisations planned to stage massive rallies and demonstrations in order to ‘apply psychological pressure to the Japanese government’s stance on the territorial question’. The Russian Presidential Security Service stated further that Japanese security services would not be able to guarantee El’tsin’s safety and had banned members of El’tsin’s security services from bringing firearms with them. The head of the Security Service announced his departure for Japan to assess security measures so that if these were not adequate he would recommend to El’tsin that he postpone his trip until the situation had improved. The aim of these measures would be to guard El’tsin against ‘powerful psychological pressure and persecution and, on the whole, against causing moral and political damage to the young Russian state’.89 At a Russian–Japanese TV bridge held on 5 September, El’tsin claimed that the visit would go ahead, but that he had 14 separate proposals for resolving the stalemate. He made it clear that Japan could not expect an unconditional surrender of the islands and once again criticised the low level of economic relations between the two countries: ‘It seems to me that all this is being made dependent on a solution to the Kuril islands issue. This is unfair, these two issues should be separated.’ In what may have been a last-ditch attempt to squeeze economic assistance from the Japanese, El’tsin said that the third phase of his five-phase plan which dealt with demilitarisation of the islands would now be accelerated, so that although this was originally to have taken ten, it would now be completed within two years.90 However, as the date for El’tsin’s departure approached, the voices of those in favour of a compromise on the islands was all but drowned out by those resolutely against any negotiations whatsoever. Kozyrev and Kunadze were voices in the wilderness echoed only by a handful of academics who had hoped to reverse the Soviet neglect of Japanese studies. On 9 September, a three-hour session of the Presidential Security Council was held, whose members included Vice-President Aleksandr Rutskoi, the Secretary of the Council Iurii Skokov, Vice-Premier Egor Gaidar and the First Deputy Chairman of the Supreme Soviet, Sergei Filatov. Rutskoi was absent on this occasion (although in his memoirs Kozyrev claims Rutskoi was present),91 but the Defence Minister Pavel Grachev, the Minister of Foreign Affairs Kozyrev, Minister of Security Viktor Barannikov and the State Secretary Burbulis attended. As is evident, the ‘hardliners’ were by no means in the majority, but El’tsin himself could tip the balance. Among the different arguments put forward against El’tsin making the trip were that Miyazawa’s position was unstable and that the trip might be used in pre-election campaigns. For this reason it would be better to make the trip after the elections when it would be clear if the situation had stabilised.

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Ultimately, El’tsin was persuaded by the arguments of the more conservative grouping, which reflected broadly the current mood of public opinion and the views of parliamentarians. According to Kozyrev’s account: a whole chorus in the shape of Rutskoi, Skokov and Barannikov suddenly, as if they had rehearsed, began in an hysterical manner to demand the postponement of the trip. Their main arguments were not this or that complication in Russo-Japanese relations, but the impossibility of ensuring the president’s personal security. Kozyrev claimed that he was in favour of postponing the visit due to the lack of preparation, i.e. there were 14 different variants for resolving the dispute but not one had been put in motion.92 In his memoirs, El’tsin, while eschewing any confirmation of whether the ‘security’ argument was the deciding factor, admitted that if there had been any point in making the trip in the first place then ‘we would never have paid any attention to this subtlety’.93 After the cancellation, various different explanations were given for El’tsin’s failure to go to Tokyo. On 10 September his press spokesman stated that internal disputes in Japan were the main reason for postponing the trip and denied that El’tsin had been put under pressure by other members of the Security Council.94 Japan’s attitude towards economic assistance to Russia, in particular its unwillingness to advance loans for natural gas development, was cited by El’tsin as an additional reason for postponing the visit and this was echoed by Viktor Chernomyrdin, who stated that agreements on oil and gas were inadequately prepared.95 While the Japanese cited Russian domestic difficulties for the postponement of the trip, the Russians pointed to Japanese ‘electioneering’ and the ultimatum-like demands of the current cabinet on the islands.96 Meanwhile, although a trip to Seoul was postponed, El’tsin informed Seoul that the meeting would definitely go ahead in November, but Japan was told that, due to the complicated situation in Russia, it would be difficult for El’tsin to leave the country in the months of October, November and December.97 By the time El’tsin spoke to Tokyo, they had already been informed by Seoul of the intention to postpone both visits.98 September–December 1992: immediate repercussions Only days before the failed summit, Kozyrev had been emphatic that ‘Russia was not a copy of the USSR, but an original phenomenon and a democratic state, . . . developing new principles in mutual relations with Japan . . .’99 In a post-mortem on the now postponed trip, Kozyrev summed up the dilemma facing Russo-Japanese relations: ‘our position – our official state position – remains the same as the Soviet Union’s used to be. In other words, we don’t really have a new policy. The Russian leadership has not yet adopted a new stance.’ While admitting this, Kozyrev noted that it was Russia’s priority to be good neighbours with everyone, particularly with such states as China ‘with which we have a vast border and with which we are about to forge fundamental and long-term neighbourly relations’.

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Finally, he stressed that if Russia ‘pulled itself up’ politically, then the economy would follow.100 Whether this last was achievable or not would remain to be seen. Suffice to say that opponents of territorial concessions now made it clear that good relations with Japan should not depend on economic assistance. The governor of Sakhalin oblast, Valentin Fedorov, argued that the fate of Russia and the Far East depended solely on the Russian people and not ‘on the favour of some rich and prospering neighbour’. He concluded that no foreigners could solve Russia’s economic problems and ‘many are beginning to understand this’.101 In the meantime, the South Kurils administration was planning to lease part of the island of Shikotan to a Hong Kong construction company in order to develop tourist facilities on the island. In Fedorov’s view some foreigners were obviously better than others. Coming so soon after the cancellation of El’tsin’s trip to Tokyo this seemed a deliberate move to reassert Russian sovereignty over the islands. Japan protested that the deal was illegal as the northern territories belonged to Japan. Although the Russian MID had not been consulted regarding the contract, it was nevertheless obliged to rebuff Tokyo’s protests by stating that the islands were still under Russian sovereignty.102 While the regional authorities appeared to be acting unilaterally, the incident was enough to prod El’tsin into promising to sign a decree on the social and economic development of the Kuril islands. Moscow now appeared to believe that joint sovereignty would be the key to solving the problems of the Far East, allowing the Japanese some say in the islands’ future.103 Bilateral relations required considerable work to bring them up to at least the level they had reached before the collapse of the Soviet Union. Kozyrev met Watanabe at United Nations headquarters on 23 September. He expressed the opinion that Moscow felt Tokyo had shown little understanding of Russia’s internal difficulties. In response, when he suggested an exchange of visits at the foreign ministerial level, the Japanese insisted that Kozyrev travel to Tokyo first. Regarding the continuation of financial aid, Tokyo assured Moscow that it would not retaliate by withdrawing aid, and would remain committed to the $24 billion package agreed by the G-7. The US acting Secretary of State Lawrence Eagleburger pressed the Japanese to assist Russia, but Watanabe retorted that ‘other countries’ knew little about Japan’s relations with Russia.104 In diplomatic terms, the repercussions of the cancellation were to make all Russian actions even obliquely connected to bilateral relations charged with meaning. There certainly appeared to be an increase in the number of statements by officers of naval forces regarding the state of the Pacific Fleet and dire warnings were issued as to the combat readiness of the naval forces. The commander of the Pacific Fleet, Admiral Gennadii Khvatov, pointed to the low living standards of the sailors and the general drop in morale, demanding a stop to cuts in the Fleet’s officer personnel. According to Khvatov, if this was not achieved then in two or three years Russia would no longer have a fleet on the Pacific. For this reason, he emphasised, the combat readiness of the Fleet, ‘a major factor of ensuring Russia’s interests in the enormous Asian and Pacific region has to be properly maintained’.105 His comments came while Andrei Kokoshin, the First Deputy Defence Minister, was touring the Russian Far East, no doubt to bolster morale after fears

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that Russia might lose its window on the Pacific by ceding territory to Japan. Kokoshin reassured the Fleet that the following year it would be allocated almost double what it needed to maintain its technological edge.106 A week or so later, the Japanese newspaper Tokyo Shimbun reported the alleged transfer of warships from the Black Sea and Baltic Fleets to the Pacific Ocean. These new warships, the paper reported, citing ‘sources in the Pacific Fleet command’, were to be deployed at Petrovpavlovsk-Kamchatskii, which would ‘worsen Russo-Japanese relations’.107 Sure enough, the Admiral Panteleev, a new and modern anti-sub ship cast anchor at one of the Pacific Fleet’s naval bases, having been transferred to the Pacific from one of the Baltic shipyards. According to the news report, the ship’s personnel were ‘ready to defend Russia’s eastern maritime boundaries’.108 Thus the armed forces had grown in confidence, boosted, first, by the appointment of a Russian Federation Defence Ministry which would now be focused specifically on the security dilemmas of the new Russian state, and second by the cancellation of El’tsin’s visit, which appeared to give support to their interpretation of the risks involved in making concessions to Japan. Evgenii Shaposhnikov, commander-in-chief of the CIS armed forces, added his voice to the chorus, and told a Japanese news agency that Moscow could yet reconsider its promise to demilitarise the Kuril islands.109 In the meantime, the governor of Sakhalin had announced on a visit to Hong Kong that the South Kurils would be given FEZ status, under a project approved by El’tsin.110 This was in the wake of the announcement by the Hong Kong firm due to lease land on Shikotan that it had broken off the leasing agreement.111 Now the plan for the islands was to be joint sovereignty and development with the Japanese. Thus Rumiantsev calculated that boosting the development of the islands would eliminate ‘Japanese unilateral claims because Japan will be left nothing but the chance to join us in the joint development of these islands’.112 After the cancellation of El’tsin’s visit to Tokyo, a conference on aid to the CIS countries highlighted the fact that the Japanese government did not intend to make any moves towards providing large-scale aid to Russia, but would instead begin focusing its attention on the five Central Asian republics. It was made clear in a policy paper released by the Japanese foreign ministry prior to the conference that ‘Japanese taxpayers could not be persuaded to pick up the additional burden of providing aid if “those countries were to receive assistance while continuing to build aircraft carriers” ’, a statement clearly aimed at Russia.113 While some aid was allocated to Russia, it was a paltry sum – $100 million in humanitarian aid was allocated for all the former Soviet republics excluding the Baltic States, with Russia’s share (concentrated on the RFE) amounting to 60 per cent. In addition, the policy statement concluded that the former republics should ‘implement foreign policy that is based on “law and justice’, a hint to Russia about the Kurils. Despite Watanabe’s assurances to Kozyrev that Japan’s share of the $24 billion aid package pledged by the G-7 would not be affected by the cancellation of El’tsin’s trip, in early December Russia had still only received $2 billion of the $24 promised in April. These developments seemed to contradict Gaidar’s statement in September, that despite the territorial dispute economic interests would effect a rapprochement between Russia and Japan.114

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There was still concern that there were too many players in the foreign policy arena. In November the MID was obliged to issue a statement confirming that it was the main channel for all statements on foreign policy. This came in the wake of statements by Shokhin, Deputy Prime Minister, who had spoken on the territorial question in connection with El’tsin’s visit to Tokyo for the G-7 meeting and also on the timing of El’tsin’s rescheduled visit.115 December saw the submission to the Supreme Soviet of El’tsin’s decree on the social and economic development of the Kuril islands, which the MID declared would not in any way influence the process of talks with Japan on the peace treaty.116 In the same month, Egor Gaidar was replaced as Prime Minister by Viktor Chernomyrdin, a clear signal to Japan that Western-style reform was no longer on the agenda. The appointment of Chernomyrdin and the rejection by the parliament of both Gaidar and Burbulis simply confirmed what had already taken place: a clear rejection by the Supreme Soviet of the ‘romantic democratic’ course symbolised by Gaidar, Burbulis, Kozyrev and Kunadze. The rejection of Gaidar was the abrogation of ‘shock therapy’ for the economy, while that of Burbulis symbolised the rejection of the conciliatory foreign policy of Kozyrev.117 January–October 1993: picking up the pieces The year 1993 began with a visit to Moscow by a Japanese parliamentary delegation which was met by Khasbulatov – he stressed that all political parties and forces were in favour of active and friendly relations with Japan.118 In the same month, Russo-Japanese interparliamentary consultations on trade and economic questions were held in Tokyo, this being the first such session since October 1990. Neither side was satisfied with the state of economic relations and both expressed concern at the sharp drop in the volume of bilateral trade in 1992, which did not correspond to the two countries’ economic potential. While the Japanese side pointed to the unregulated nature of political relations and the lack of a peace treaty as having superimposed themselves on economic ties, it also appeared to soften its stance on sekei fukabun, proclaiming instead a policy of ‘expanded equilibrium’, or the parallel development of political and economic ties. Surprisingly, a poll by the Japanese newspaper Nihon Keizai showed that more than 40 per cent of Japanese believed that the only sensible policy was to render Russia economic aid while negotiating a solution to the territorial problem.119 (One Russian analyst surmised that Tokyo’s softer stance was due to the upcoming G-7 summit, where Japan would not want to ‘look stupid’ in front of the other members. On the other hand, it may not have been unrelated to the success of the Sino-Russian summit in December 1992.)120 The Japanese side outlined problems linked to trade and economic relations: the unregulated nature of Russian indebtedness to Japanese firms; the frozen bank accounts of representatives of Japanese firms in Moscow and Russo-Japanese JVs; the lack of clarity on the future of two large-scale projects in the area of Russo-Japanese economic cooperation (Sakhalin and the exploitation of timber resources in the RFE). The solution of these problems, it was argued, would help to open the way to

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Japanese investment, and attract Japanese companies to participate in regional development programmes in the Far East.121 These interparliamentary consultations were significant as, in October 1992, just after El’tsin’s cancellation, the Supreme Soviet had issued a statement to the effect that it was ready for active parliamentary contacts.122 Towards the end of February 1994, consultations were held at deputy foreign ministerial level on re-activating the bilateral dialogue; the Russian side was hoping for a transformation of the G-7 into the G-8. Japan was not happy with such a prospect, and shortly afterwards the chief secretary of the Japanese Cabinet of Ministers, Yoko Kono, emphasised that Kozyrev’s claim that Japan would invite El’tsin to Tokyo for the July summit of the G-7 was merely wishful thinking on Kozyrev’s part, and not official Japanese policy.123 It appeared that Tokyo had failed to understand the internal wrangling then taking place between executive and legislature.124 As the crisis in Russia deepened, the Ninth Congress of People’s Deputies agreed to hold a referendum which would effectively ‘make or break’ El’tsin as president. Meanwhile, Japan’s Export–Import bank said it would grant Russia credit of $100 million. This had first been announced in December 1990, but Japanese officials attributed the delay to the unstable situation in Russia, and because Russia had not presented an account of its plans for using the allocated amount.125 In the run-up to the G-7 summit, Kozyrev spoke at the G-7 ministerial meeting and spelt out Russian requirements if it were to be integrated into the world economy, emphasising the need for long-term partnership and the unique role that could be played by Russo-Japanese cooperation.126 The Japanese government, too, said that it believed assistance to Russia and the territorial problem should not be linked, a statement welcomed by the Russian MID.127 Whether Tokyo had finally realised the importance to El’tsin’s government of moral support from the G-7 countries in the context of accusations of treachery and double-dealing by the West is not certain. On 15 April the G-7 approved an aid plan of US$28.4 billion for Russia (although most of this had already been promised); coming shortly after Clinton and El’tsin’s meeting at Vancouver to discuss security and economic issues, one can surmise that the USA exerted some pressure on Japan to show more support for Russia in its current difficulties. In any case, after victory in the April referendum, El’tsin now felt free to rid himself of those who opposed his plans for economic reform, and forthwith dismissed the secretary of the Security Council Iurii Skokov and the Deputy Prime Minister Khizha, who he replaced with Oleg Soskovets. Soskovets’ background was in the defence industry, similar to Lobov, so that one could now expect greater attention to be paid to the revival of the MIC.128 His involvement in arms sales to China was indicative of these interests and his interests in the area of defence will not have endeared him to Japan. Parliamentary elections had been scheduled for the autumn, but disagreements between El’tsin and Rutskoi continued to escalate and Khasbulatov once again attacked the West, accusing powerful international financial–industrial groups of seeking to colonise Russian regions and incorporate them into a

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‘system of their global interests’.129 This comment came as the Russian regions were threatening to withhold taxes from the centre and turn themselves into republics. Bearing in mind the imminent elections, the regional leaders will have been aware that Russian politicians would now seek to court them in a bid to preserve their own power. Residents of the Kurils were also seeking to take advantage of these developments: in Spring 1993 a state of emergency was declared on Kunashir due to an almost total lack of diesel fuel. Leaders of the Kurils’ local administration said a similar situation was developing on Iturup and that if appeals to regional authorities went unheeded, they would appeal to Japan to send diesel as humanitarian aid.130 The commander of the air defence unit on the Kurils confirmed that one of the three military aviation units on Iturup was being withdrawn, a move linked to the earlier Gorbachev agreement, which had envisaged a 30 per cent mutual reduction in troops on Hokkaido and the Kurils.131 The new governor of Sakhalin, Evgenii Krasnoiarov, moved swiftly to ensure that Tokyo would not seek to take advantage of the situation: ‘until we reach the level of Japanese living standards any transfer of the islands is out of the question’.132 He was unable, however, to stop Japan from sending 1,500 tons of diesel fuel to the South Kurils in response to the islanders’ appeals, as well as several tons of sugar – an embarrassing situation for the central authorities. A positive development, at least at the regional level, was an agreement between the governors of Hokkaido and Sakhalin to hold a personal meeting in early June in Vladivostok to establish a regular air and ferry service. Contacts had been disrupted during preparations for El’tsin’s visit in 1992 and Fedorov had refused to hold any talks which might place in doubt the sovereignty of the islands. In a further sign of the incremental building of trust, a Japanese consulate opened in Vladivostok on 8 July after a hiatus of nearly 30 years.133 In early June the first Russo-Japanese economic symposium was held in Moscow, attended by Soskovets and Lobov as well as directors of enterprises, bankers and so on. While the meeting was significant symbolically, coming just prior to the G-7 summit, there was still little to celebrate in the economic sphere. Bilateral trade in 1992 had reached only US$3.248 billion, down 20 per cent on the previous year. Japanese trade amounted to only 4.3 per cent of total Russian trade, while Russia’s share of Japanese trade was a mere 0.5 per cent. Japanese investments in the Russian economy were also miserable, a minuscule 0.1 per cent of total Japanese foreign investment in 1992. The problem of Soviet debts remained unresolved and the Japanese were frustrated by the lack of clarity as to which Russian institution was responsible for dealing with this issue. It was noted that as long as the question of outstanding debts remained unresolved, Japanese business circles would continue to lack confidence in the Russian economy.134 A couple of days earlier, in a bid to do battle with the likes of Khasbulatov and Rutskoi, Kozyrev told a session of the Council on Foreign Policy135 that ‘foreign investments are not at all the sign of some kind of colonial or slave economy’. He criticised those who believed that these investments were

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‘practically synonymous with selling the fatherland’, and emphasised that Russia would continue to use its political partnership with Western Europe to obtain favourable conditions. There was no mention of Japan.136 Again, the Japanese displayed a complete lack of understanding for the Russian domestic situation. Japan’s deputy foreign minister caused outrage in June when he called the G-7 plan to create a privatisation fund for Russia of $4 billion ‘absurd’, declaring that the only conceivable sum could be ‘500 million or less’ and drove the point home by criticising the long process of privatisation in Russia and the lack of experienced managers.137 A typical view was that of Hiroshi Kimura who believed that Japan could not ignore public opinion, which felt that Japan should not necessarily give more aid than other G-7 member states ‘to a country which has seized and kept their territory’. Therefore, if the other G-7 states wished Japan to undertake a major role in financial assistance to Russia, they should urge Russia to solve its territorial dispute with Japan.138 The view of some in Russia, however, was that in any case the West’s promises of financial aid should not be taken seriously. According to Oleg Lobov, Deputy Prime Minister, most industrialised nations of the West had received from Russia more than they had given it: ‘the enormous market place of the former Soviet Union’ had opened to the West, while Russia waited in vain to receive $6 billion of stabilisation aid.139 Ultimately Japan did not manage to persuade the G-7 to include a statement on the territorial dispute in the final declaration of the summit. Point five of the declaration at the summit merely noted that the G-7 firmly supported Russia’s reform efforts and that it expected Russia would ‘develop its diplomacy on the basis of the principles of legality and justice and continue to play a constructive and responsible role in the international community’.140 This pleased Russia and made it easier for El’tsin to then express his gratitude to Japan for its support of reform in Russia, noting at his meeting with Miyazawa the importance attached to the precise understanding by the Japanese side of the internal political circumstances in our country. The understandable attempt of the Japanese to intensify the process of talks should not spill over into attempts to apply pressure on Russia or resort to forcing the issue. In the present difficult transition period it is inadmissible to place on the Russian people the additional burden of the problem of the islands. And the quicker the reforms are carried through and the economic situation has stabilised in the country, the quicker the Russians will be able to take it on board calmly and without emotion. El’tsin offered an olive branch by noting that it was not just a question of economic assistance with reforms but also cooperation in the areas of culture, health, education and science.141 The President was signalling to Japan that Russia would refrain from harping on the issue of Japan’s lack of economic assistance if Japan would refrain from raising the territorial issue.142 In summer of 1993, senior Kremlin officials paid numerous trips to the

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Russian Far East in a bid to gain support for El’tsin’s new draft constitution. Economic issues related to the Russian Far East had become highly politicised, in part due to competition for control of natural resources between the centre and periphery, and in part due to pressure on individual politicians representing specific industries to deliver.143 Thus, Chernomyrdin emphasised that the future of the Russian Far East lay in ‘developing the Sakhalin shelf with partners from other countries and in the consolidation of economic ties with China’. On the same trip (to Iuzhno-Sakhalinsk) he pointedly stated that Russia would not be ceding the Kurils to anyone, nor was the subject up for discussion.144 Only a couple of weeks previously, Rutskoi, speaking in Vladivostok, had declared that Russia ‘should not give away even a millimetre of land to anyone’.145 Soskovets, touring the Russian Far East at the same time as Chernomyrdin, drew attention to the loss of important ports in the Baltic and Black Seas, which therefore increased the significance of the Pacific Fleet: referring to the RFE as Russia’s ‘strategic base’, he proposed giving free rein to the regional authorities.146 At a conference of leaders of enterprises of the region, Soskovets warned that the government would have to change its position on granting credits to defence enterprises in order not to see industrial potential ‘destroyed’.147 Earlier that month, the governor of Primorskii krai together with the command of the Pacific Fleet had appealed to the Ministry of Defence to provide urgent financial aid to the Fleet, and claimed that most enterprises serving the Fleet were on the verge of complete collapse, while the navy’s debts to the defence complex had increased.148 Just prior to a private visit to Japan in September 1993, Burbulis claimed that Chernomyrdin’s remarks that Russia would reject negotiations with Japan did not reflect the views of the presidential office, and that there was a broad spectrum of views on the dispute.149 Shortly before El’tsin set off for the October summit, Chernomyrdin reiterated his opposition to a transfer of any of the Kurils to Japan, but he believed that the Japanese would not raise the issue, as it was not ‘the main thing’ in bilateral relations today.150 Meanwhile, Japan’s Defence Agency was avidly monitoring the withdrawal of combat aircraft from the Kuril islands. The Japanese press buzzed with reports that, despite the apparent removal of 40 MiG-23s from Iturup, the airspace around the islands would still be covered by the MiG-31 and Su-27 longrange aircraft stationed on Sakhalin.151 There was also speculation in the Japanese press that the obsolete fighters might be replaced by up-to-date aircraft, reports which were denied by Russian defence officials.152 The Russian Ministry of Defence expressed its amazement that the Japanese should take such an interest in what was surely ‘an internal affair of Russia’.153 According to one article around this time, the residents of the Kurils were alarmed by the withdrawals, as it seemed to be ‘one more sign that preparations are being made to turn the Southern Kurils over to Japan’, while the governor of Sakhalin oblast, Krasnoiarov, claimed that the removal of the planes would complicate the situation in terms of defending the border and protecting local resources and sent ‘the wrong signal to the Japanese’.154 In July, El’tsin dismissed the Minister for Security for ‘violation of ethical norms and serious failures in the leadership of

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the ministry, including the Border Troops’. While this was connected to events along the Afghan–Tajik border, the establishment of a separate Border Guards service in August155 also had implications for Russo-Japanese relations as the new service was charged with tightening control of illegal fishing activities and providing a skeleton military formation on the Kurils. During the October summit, El’tsin stressed that while Russian military formations on the islands had been reduced, the border guards should be retained ‘at all costs. . .’.156 Japan’s White Paper on Defence for 1993 identified Russia’s armed forces in the Far East as introducing a substantive element of instability in the Asia-Pacific region, and the MID protested that the White Paper bracketed Russia and North Korea as states which threatened security in the APR.157 As the date of the summit approached, it became ever clearer that Russia was not about to make any concessions on the territorial issue but neither were the Japanese about to meet them halfway. After the storming of the parliament building in early October where El’tsin’s opponents had barricaded themselves, it would have been impossible for the Japanese to expect any unilateral moves by El’tsin’s team. As one MID official said just a few days before the showdown with Rutskoi et al., ‘[T]he Japanese will hardly want to complicate life for President Yeltsin and bring pressure to bear on him, since this would only give his adversaries additional trump cards.’158 El’tsin arrived in Tokyo for the summit on 11 October, only seven days after his defeat of the parliament’s supporters. On departing for Tokyo, El’tsin told reporters that he hoped Japan would not raise the Kurils issue.159 Hopes for wideranging economic cooperation were not on the horizon either, and therefore Russia did not expect to raise any new substantial issues at the summit. Gaidar explained: ‘We believe that Russia’s domestic stability, its economic stability above all, depends on itself. That is the reason why we do not plan to bring up any new large-scale issues this time.’160 The reason for this stance was clear enough: if Russia did not expect economic cooperation then Japan could not expect any movement on the islands. Instead the summit was symbolic and a chance to make up for the failed summit of the previous year. In Kozyrev’s words: every presidential visit is worth its weight in gold. It is the main and most effective weapon in our diplomatic arsenal, particularly at a time when Russia is economically weak and we have no economic trump card in our foreign policy.161 The background to the summit was thus one of extreme caution on the Russian side. El’tsin had been obliged to make a number of concessions to the conservative mood of the country, disillusioned with Gaidar’s economic ‘shock therapy’. The standing of the armed forces had increased, due partly to its support for the storming of the parliament building, and this bolstered strategic arguments against a compromise on the islands. The military now opposed complete demilitarisation of the islands, despite El’tsin’s promises to the Japanese.

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The October 1993 summit At the summit a package of 16 documents was signed, including agreements on cultural exchange, economic assistance and technical matters. A MID report noted that the meetings were significant in terms of the Japanese readiness ‘for the balanced development of the whole complex of Russo-Japanese relations, which opens up the real possibility of a more active regulation of commercial cooperation between Russia and Japan’.162 The main document issued at the summit was the Tokyo Declaration on Russo-Japanese relations and the Declaration on long-term trade and economic and scientific–technical relations (see Table 5.1). Others dealt with prevention of maritime incidents, more effective cooperation in atomic energy security, and the establishment of new general consulates. The Tokyo Declaration affirmed that Russia was the state-continuer of the Soviet Union and would fulfil precisely all agreements and responsibilities which had been undertaken by the Soviet Union. It stressed, however, that this would depend on the development of bilateral relations and the domestic situation in both countries, but any peace treaty would be drawn up on the basis of the principles of legality and justice. For the Japanese side, Hosekawa suggested that meetings should be held at the foreign ministerial level not less than twice a year. This suggestion was aimed at activating the working group on the peace treaty.163 Of particular importance to the Japanese was El’tsin’s apology for the treatment of Japanese prisoners of war. Hosekawa hailed the apology as a move towards building a ‘basis for spiritual reconciliation between the people of our two nations’.164 It was now possible for the Japanese to view Russia in a warmer light, as a nation prepared to take responsibility for past errors, which had a ‘psychological as well as a political significance’. The importance was noted of El’tsin’s apology for the treatment of Japanese POWs, and Prime Minister Hosokawa said that ‘a new moral–ethical base’ had been created for our relations.165 Table 5.1 Russia–Japan trade, 1989–99 Year

Exports ($bn)

Imports ($bn)

Total ($bn)

1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999

3.01 3.35 3.32 2.40 2.77 3.49 4.76 3.95 4.02 2.89 3.76

3.08 2.56 2.11 1.08 1.50 1.17 1.17 1.03 1.02 0.97 0.48

6.09 5.91 5.43 3.48 4.27 4.66 5.93 4.97 5.03 3.86 4.24

Source: Japan Association for Trade with Russia and Central-Eastern Europe (ROTOBO).

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On the economic front the Japanese were keen to point out that Japan was in third place, after Germany and the United States, in terms of aid to Russia and that the package of economic aid approved in July by the G-7 would be disbursed. A press conference held by the MID stressed that the concept that used to exist of ‘the islands or nothing’ had lost any foundation. Now in the Japanese government the doctrine regarding Russia was one of ‘expanded equilibrium’ (in Japanese, kakudai kinko) which was adopted to signify a general move forward in the areas of politics and economics.166 In fact, the concept of ‘expanded equilibrium’ had been outlined already in 1989, and there was some confusion as to whether Japan really had dropped the linkage of politics and economics.167 Thus an article in Izvestiia surmised that El’tsin’s statement embarrassed his hosts as no one in Tokyo had renounced that principle. . . . They not only confirmed the policy of linking the development of economic relations to progress in the political sphere . . . as a fundamental principle, but hastened to reassure the general public that Moscow had been given no new promises.168 For the Japanese, kakudai kinko implied an expansion of overall ties, linking expansion of assistance to progress on the territorial dispute. However, in terms of warding off criticism from potential critics in Moscow, the new concept of expanded equilibrium, if not fundamentally any different to sekei fukabun, was still a good card to play on the home front. Both El’tsin and Gaidar maintained that the Japanese failure to insist on a direct linkage between politics and economics had made the visit possible, and Gaidar emphasised that the time for Russia to rely on humanitarian aid was ‘over’, expressing his hope that Japan would now expand investment in Russia, particularly on Sakhalin.169 However, shortly after El’tsin’s return to Moscow, the Japanese Finance Minister stated categorically that Tokyo would continue to adhere to the policy of non-separation of politics and economics, insisting that Japan’s policy had not changed in the slightest.170 On the territorial issue, Japan’s stance also remained unchanged, that is an insistence on the return of all four of the Southern Kuril islands.171 In summing up the visit, the MID emphasised that the Russian position on the islands was that the issue ‘must be examined according to how bilateral relations develop and when the appropriate moral– psychological climate has been created, which would allow us to take such crucial decisions...’172 – a statement in tune with the five-phase plan. In a press conference just after El’tsin’s visit in October 1993, the MID spokesman failed to contradict a journalist who said that the islands had no economic or military interest for either Japan or Russia. Instead, he insisted on the Russian government’s obligations to the Kuril population and the need to take into account opposing views regarding the islands’ value.173 October 1993–December 1995: stalemate Just after El’tsin’s visit the atmosphere in bilateral relations was soured by the dumping of waste in the Sea of Japan by the Russian navy: it seemed that under-

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funding of the Pacific Fleet meant environmental concerns, an issue close to Japan’s heart, were being neglected. Russia had been dumping radioactive waste here since 1959, but in April 1993 Japan had granted Russia US$100 million to finance safer disposal methods plus a working group to tackle the problem in the long term.174 The Russian Ministry of the Environment protested that the dumping did not violate any international obligations and corresponded to the provisions of the 1972 London Convention. A second planned dumping of radioactive waste was abandoned. Representatives of the Pacific Fleet were unrepentant and asserted that Japan was making a fuss which was ‘obviously in pursuit of political aims’.175 A few days later, Viktor Mikhailov, Minister for Atomic Energy, spoke in Japan at a symposium on safety in the nuclear power industry. He told Japan’s director-general of the Science and Technology Agency that disposal of radioactive waste from Russia’s nuclear-powered submarines was caused by financial problems. He tactlessly suggested Japan solve the problem by purchasing uranium from the dismantled nuclear warheads.176 Dumping was halted, temporarily at least, but probably due to pressure from the MID, rather than an independent decision by the Pacific Fleet. In autumn 1993 Kunadze was removed from his position as Deputy Foreign Minister and replaced by Aleksandr Panov.177 This will have been a clear signal to Tokyo that Moscow’s stance would henceforth be more uncompromising regarding the territorial issue, and as Neil Malcolm points out, ‘the coming of greater harmony [in foreign policy] was marked soon after by the departure of Kunadze . . .’178 Indeed, a Japanese newspaper surmised that Kunadze’s removal was viewed in Tokyo as a portent of things to come.179 The Russian MID had never really recovered from the recriminations levelled at it the previous summer when it was labelled a bastion of ‘Japanophiles’ led by the ‘Kozyrev–Kunadze group’, a ‘fifth column of agents of Japanese influence’, in the words of one Russian nationalist.180 1994 was a fallow year in Russo-Japanese relations: although consultations on the peace treaty resumed, there was little mention in Moscow of the territorial issue. Meetings of the working groups set up to deal with specific issues continued to take place, but few concrete results emerged. In February joint consultations were held in the framework of efforts to activate political dialogue in accord with agreements reached during the summit. Apart from the observation that there was a need to strengthen and revitalise trade links, nothing substantial resulted.181 The following month saw the visit to Russia of Tsutomu Hata, Japan’s Foreign Minister: Japan, as part of its support for Russian reforms, had pledged to open a series of study centres for market reform, in order actively to support small and medium-sized enterprises. Both sides stressed the need to continue active contacts to assist the gradual development of political dialogue in order to strengthen goodneighbourliness, partnership and trust. During Hata’s visit it was also agreed to resume sessions of the working groups on the peace treaty, and the Russian side as usual expressed its concern at continued poaching by Japanese fishermen in the South Kurils zone. Both parties pledged to give priority to preparation for a summit during which the Japanese prime minister

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would visit Moscow.182 However, further Japanese speculation on troop withdrawals irritated Russia, and a statement by the MID emphasised that the matter was a ‘purely internal affair and not in any way a subject for talks with Japan, nor was it related to the problem of the peace treaty between Russia and Japan’.183 In May, Russia was irritated by Japan’s continued objections to Russia’s fully fledged participation in the G-7 summit due to be held in Naples that July. There seemed to be little prospect for a turnaround, leading one journalist to comment that the top Moscow leadership had lost interest in political talks with Japan and that the level of diplomacy had ‘fallen to that of Poland’.184 The summer was marred by continued Russian accusations of poaching by the Japanese. Since the border guards had separated off from the Ministry of Security and become an independent force headed by the determined General Andrei Nikolaev, there had been a concerted effort to clamp down on poaching in the Sea of Okhotsk, codenamed ‘Putina-94’ (‘Trawl-94’). The importance of this operation was highlighted on Border Guard Day, 27 May, when El’tsin singled out the ‘Putina’ operation for special praise in an address to the border guards: ‘[A]t last they have dealt a blow to those who are tearing our national assets to shreds.’ He concluded that it was vital for Russia to improve the protection of the border in its maritime regions, in particular in the Arctic and Pacific and to ‘take measures to defend Russia’s economic interests’.185 In one incident, Russian border guards fired on a Japanese vessel, wounding a fisherman in the process. The Japanese position was that the fishermen were not poaching, but simply fishing in their own waters, as Tokyo, and in particular the Gaimusho, regarded the islands as sovereign Japanese territory. In the meantime, the chief administrator of the Southern Kurils district proposed that the Japanese be allowed to fish on payment of a fee, without fear of harassment. However, due to Japan’s official policy that the islands belonged to Tokyo, the wording would have to be phrased very carefully, as otherwise the Japanese would in effect be ‘paying the occupiers for their own fish’.186 On 4 October a serious earthquake devastated the Kuril islands. The quake was yet another litmus test for the state of bilateral relations, as residents already angry about the lack of economic support from the centre and falling living standards appeared to favour returning the islands to Japan. An opinion poll conducted shortly after the earthquake showed that 89 per cent of those polled in Primorskii krai, and 60 per cent of those polled in Moscow said that they favoured the return of the islands to Japan.187 The main reasons given for this view were economic, as El’tsin’s programme for social and economic development of the islands had failed to tackle the islands’ problems.188 Just a month before the earthquake, seeking to take advantage of the islands’ economic plight, the governor of Primorskii krai, Evgenii Nazdratenko, sought to transfer administrative jurisdiction over the islands from Sakhalin oblast to his own region. Nazdratenko claimed that such a transfer would help to solve the Kurils’ economic problems more quickly. However, a statement by the Sakhalin oblast Duma asserted that the governor’s real objective was to take over ‘the very rich fishing areas and thereby

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increase his chances in the upcoming elections for krai governor’. Nazdratenko pointed out that the islands’ residents had appealed to Japan for aid rather than the central government, presumably not expecting much satisfaction from that quarter.189 Japan pledged 100 million yen in humanitarian assistance but rejected a proposal by Soskovets to develop the islands jointly, as Tokyo could not accept any proposal ‘which proceeds from the premise that the four Northern islands are under Russian jurisdiction’.190 The idea was to establish a free economic zone, which had been part of the original plan, but which had been suspended due to lack of funds. According to one report Soskovets was dissatisfied with the amount of aid pledged by Japan.191 While the Russians appeared to resent Japan’s insistence on humanitarian aid, El’tsin also asserted: ‘Russia regards foreign investments only as an additional reserve to pull it out of the crisis’, stressing that Russia had ‘considerable financial resources to invest in the economy’.192 On 6 October 1994, a Japanese poaching schooner was sunk by Russian border guards near the South Kurils. A Japanese official said that the incident coincided with the peak of an ‘unofficial dialogue’ between Russia and Japan on fishing around the Kurils, and noted that this did not help to ‘direct it in a more constructive way’. However, the local commander of the Russian border troops, Nikolai Kudinov, claimed that 700 foreign fishing boats, mostly Japanese, had intruded into Japanese territorial waters that year. Kudinov warned the Japanese that Russia had ‘enough strength and means in order to defend our national interests and prevent predatory pillaging of our wealth’.193 Naturally the already falling population of the islands had decreased still further after the earthquake; however, the MID was at pains to refute claims in the Japanese press that 10,000 inhabitants had requested permanent resettlement on the mainland, anxious not to draw attention to the dire conditions on the islands.194 Grachev meanwhile appeared to contradict El’tsin’s pledge on demilitarising the islands when he stated on Sakhalin that ‘Russian forces were, are, and will be on the Kurils’.195 There had been a distinct lack of high-level consultation between Russia and Japan in 1994, and the invitation to the Japanese Prime Minister to visit Moscow did not seem to have materialised. The visit of Deputy Prime Minister Soskovets to Japan between 27 November and 1 December was significant as the first high-level visit that dealt almost exclusively with economic rather than political issues, i.e. there was no real discussion of the territorial dispute, just a brief reconfirmation of the provisions of the Tokyo Declaration as well as the need to ensure progress on the signing of a peace treaty. During his stay, Soskovets met with the Prime Minister Murayama, the Foreign Minister, Kono, and the Minister of Foreign Trade and Industry, Ryutaro Hashimoto. A declaration was issued, including for the first time a general understanding on the need to reach agreement on developing cooperation on fishing rights in the near future. Point eight of the declaration stated that: proceeding from the importance to the world community of the Russian Federation’s transition to a market economy and its integration with the global economic system, Japan would support Russian participation in or entry to those international economic organisations of which it is was not yet a member.

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A memorandum was signed on Russian entry to GATT/WTO. It was also decided to establish an inter-parliamentary commission on trade and economic issues, ‘bearing in mind the solution of a wide range of problems between the two countries in this sphere’. Regarding the use of humanitarian credits from the Export–Import Bank of $500 million which was announced on 8 October 1991, Kono agreed to consider a request to reorient the credits to finance projects which support economic reform as well as those with humanitarian aims on the condition that priority be given to projects in the Far Eastern regions, while the Russians pledged to improve the investment climate, including making changes to the tax and legal system. An invitation was extended by the Japanese to Prime Minister Chernomyrdin, and El’tsin invited Murayama to visit Russia.196 The Japanese apparently saw the purpose of Soskovets’ visit as one merely to obtain loans, and an article in a leading Japanese weekly asserted that there was a close connection between Soskovets’ visit to Japan and Sakhalin oil concessions: ‘The basic diplomatic strategy of the Russian side is to draw as much and as possible from Japan using oil development as a dummy’ – apparently citing a Russian government source. The same source said that the Japanese Gaimusho had lured Soskovets to Tokyo with the bait that Japan would finance the privatisation of Russian enterprises.197 1995: signs of a breakthrough? In January 1995 an earthquake hit Kobe in Japan: Russia was one of the first countries to offer humanitarian aid, which certainly improved Russia’s image in Japan, according to a brochure on Russo-Japanese relations published by the Gaimusho.198 Just prior to the earthquake the publication of excerpts from Kozyrev’s forthcoming memoirs disclosed confidential information regarding Japanese proposals on the territorial issue, including the revelation that the Japanese had apparently offered Gorbachev a huge sum for the Kurils.199 The following month saw further dumping of radioactive waste in the Sea of Japan and a promise by the Pacific Fleet to dump more in subsequent weeks amid loud protests from the Japanese.200 As Kozyrev was due to visit Tokyo in March, this could not have come at a worse time. The fact that Kozyrev was in effect merely ‘stopping off’ in Tokyo on his way back from Beijing will have made it clear where Moscow’s priorities lay. In March 1995 Kozyrev paid an official visit to Tokyo, his visit having been postponed from December – indeed the postponement further dismayed Tokyo. The Japanese had indicated in December that, if Kozyrev did not visit in January then Japan would have to rethink its policy towards Russia. In summing up the results of the visit, it was stressed that diplomatic efforts aimed at maintaining a reasonable level of dialogue in bilateral relations should be increased. However, nothing specific came of the visit, bar an agreement to commence talks on fishing rights in Moscow between 13 and 14 March.201 Nevertheless, considering the friction between the two states regarding this issue, even setting a date for talks was a significant event and Kozyrev expressed optimism on the issue.202 Of

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equal importance was the inclusion in Kozyrev’s delegation of Boris Gromov, then Deputy Minister of Defence, and military expert at the MID. Although no documents were signed, it was an important step in building confidence between the two countries’ military establishments.203 There was still confusion in Moscow over the demilitarisation of the Kurils, as Kozyrev apparently informed Tokyo during his visit that there were problems in withdrawing troops from the Kuril islands. A Japanese report purported to show that the troops were to be increased from 4,000 to 10,000.204 Unfortunately, during Kozyrev’s trip, a misunderstanding arose on the Japanese side regarding Russian support for Tokyo’s bid to be a permanent member on the United Nations Security Council. The Japanese press reported that Russia had given its support to the bid, but Kozyrev was obliged to clarify that while it understood Japan’s desire to become a permanent member of the council, there were many other deserving candidates. Another report cited a senior Russian diplomat who claimed that on his trip to Tokyo, Kozyrev had called for the signing of a peace treaty before Japan could become a permanent member of the Security Council.205 Relations were further soured by El’tsin’s comments on the motivation behind Japanese aid for disaster relief following the earthquake on Sakhalin in May of the same year. He stated bluntly that Japan was offering assistance in order to pressurise Russia on the territorial issue:206 It is well known that in Japan there are rather influential forces that have always linked the handling of questions of contacts with Russia in the economic, cultural and humanitarian areas with matters that have nothing to do with them, including the so-called territorial ‘dispute’.207 August saw celebrations in Moscow marking the fiftieth anniversary of the end of the Second World War. The Russian Minister of Defence took the opportunity to remind veterans that ‘the victory over Japan led to Russia’s recovery of land that had been torn away from it’. He clarified to the press that he was referring to the Kuril chain, adding that since the creation of the Russian army three years previously, the army had become ‘a united and effective entity, a guarantor of the stability and integrity of the state’.208 The following month, after a long period of calm, Russian border troops fired on Japanese poachers, wounding a fisherman in the waters near the South Kurils. The chief of staff of the Border Troops’ naval forces stressed that it was the ‘tough stand’ taken by his men in protecting Russia’s natural resources that prevented the state from incurring economic losses of ‘several trillion rubles’.209 Despite these incidents, three rounds of fishing talks took place in 1995, in March, May and September. The significance of these talks was that while they did not involve direct discussion of the islands’ sovereignty, they represented an important symbolic advance, as previously Japan had refused to even contemplate such talks. In November preparations were being made for the visit to Moscow of the Japanese Foreign Minister Kono, for the first session of the bilateral intergovernmental commission on trade and economic issues, co-chaired by Kono and

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Soskovets. As part of the preparations, sessions of three subcommittees were held: on improving conditions for the development of trade and economic relations; on the question of assistance for the continuation of market reforms in Russia; on economic relations with the Far Eastern regions of Russia. The positive dynamic of bilateral trade was noted: $3.9 billion in the first nine months of 1995, which was a rise of 54 per cent a over a similar period in 1994, and attention was drawn to the Mitsui–Lukoil deal which provided $700 million for the supply of equipment to repair oil wells. The two sides also assessed positively the progress of the large-scale project of assistance for the development of foreign trade and industry in Russia, initiated by the Japanese Minister for Trade and Industry and known therefore as the ‘Hashimoto plan’.210 January 1996–November 1997: Primakov asserts Russian national interests January 1996 saw the appointment of Evgenii Primakov who at his first press conference advised Japan to deal with the Kurils as it had dealt with the Senkaku islands vis-à-vis China. The new Foreign Minister explicitly told Japan to exercise ‘the same wisdom which it at one time exercised with regard to China’, i.e. referring to Japan and China’s decision to ‘set aside this question for future generations, while at the same developing relations in order to create a more favourable climate for resolving it in the future’.211 This was a completely different approach to that of Kozyrev, and even to El’tsin’s five-phase plan. China and Japan had long had a territorial dispute over the Senkaku (Diaoyutai in Chinese) islands, but nevertheless agreed in 1978 to set aside their differences and sign a Treaty of Friendship and Cooperation. (Interestingly, in May 1990 Gorbachev had accused Japan of hypocrisy for maintaining relations with both China and Korea, both of which had territorial disputes with Japan.212) In 1989, Georgii Kunadze, while still an academic at IMEMO, wrote that there was a clear parallel between the Senkaku problem and the Kurils issue, in which case Tokyo should drop its claims against Moscow, although he later changed his mind and said that the parallel was superficial.213 At first, Tokyo lodged protests with the MID regarding Primakov’s remarks, asserting that they represented a ‘deviation from the line’, i.e. from the 1956 declaration. However, Primakov and the MID made it clear in subsequent statements throughout the year that Primakov’s remarks represented a new stance in Russian policy both towards the territorial dispute and bilateral relations. A MID statement on the issue noted that recently relations had improved but that the dynamic of relations still seriously lagged behind global changes in world politics, ‘and in essence we are only at the initial stage of exploiting the potential of our corresponding interests’.214 Primakov made it clear that the first priority of Russian foreign policy was the creation of the best external conditions for the strengthening of ‘the territorial integrity of our state’.215 This should have been warning enough to Japan that a return of the islands was now practically inconceivable. Later that year El’tsin

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confirmed the ‘Principles of Russian Federation Border Policy’ which enunciated a range of basic threats to Russia’s national interests and security, including ‘territorial claims; the incomplete demarcation of the Russian Federation state border from the standpoint of international law . . .’ A basic provision of the document then was that ‘any, and all territorial claims against the Russian Federation on the part of neighbouring states are rejected’. The Japanese embassy responded swiftly, saying that ‘the question of ownership of the islands of Iturup, Kunashir, Shikotan and Habomai cannot be resolved by changing borders’.216 In March, the Japanese Foreign Minister Yukihiko Ikeda arrived in Moscow. The Russian side initiated, and the Japanese side supported, the idea of using the 40th anniversary of the re-establishment of relations in order to elaborate a new philosophy of bilateral relations. Primakov used the occasion to enunciate the new parameters of Russian foreign policy, stating that one of the essential elements in the new philosophy of relations was a policy of realism, the basis of which was ‘a dynamic movement towards trust based on the principles of equality and mutual advantage’. The importance was stressed of continuing active political dialogue at all levels and it was decided to use the Nuclear Safety summit to be held in Moscow in April of that year as a spur. It was also planned to begin regular exchanges between the two military establishments, beginning with a visit to Moscow of the Japanese defence minister in the spring.217 Tokyo declared itself satisfied with the meetings and Russia’s declaration that only 3,500 troops remained on the Kurils was welcomed as a positive sign. In addition, talks were begun on payment of the USSR’s $11billion debt to Japanese companies, which had long been a sore point in relations. However, a request by the Russians for a $2 billion subsidy was rejected, as the Gaimusho thought it ‘premature’, while earlier Japanese loans were yet to be disbursed and the debt situation remained unclear.218 The first session of the intergovernmental committee on trade and economic issues was held during Ikeda’s March visit, chaired by Soskovets and Ikeda. The Japanese side expressed great interest in the Federal programme for the development of the Far East and Transbaikal (a presidential programme announced at the start of 1996, billed as the Federal Programme for Economic and Social Development of the Far East and Transbaikal, 1996–2005). However, the programme was vague on the source of finance for the projects envisaged by it, and left investment to the vagaries of the market.219 The new emphasis was placed firmly on ‘the resolution of so-called “islandrelated” issues’, so, for example, negotiations on fishing rights were prioritised in order that progress on matters relating to the territorial dispute could be used to give impetus to broader areas of cooperation. There was now a greater frankness regarding the limitations of bilateral relations, which it was hoped would force the Japanese to move away from the territorial issue. Panov stated candidly that Moscow did not at present see any possibility of taking any political decisions on the territorial issue, adding that Russia did not fully approve of the concept popular among Japanese political and business circles of ‘expanded equilibrium’. Relations appeared to be on the up, as evidenced by the high

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turnover in bilateral trade for 1995 (higher than with China), and therefore the time was ripe for concentrating on such issues as fishing rights and giving an impetus to broader areas of cooperation.220 Having asserted Russian territorial integrity as an inalienable component of his foreign policy, Primakov was able to make headway in other areas of bilateral relations aimed at building trust. For example, in July 1996 a Japanese warship visited the port of Vladivostok to take part in a parade dedicated to 300 hundred years of the Russian Fleet, and joint exercises were also conducted. This was in line with the agreement on the prevention of incidents at sea signed in October 1993. Although incidents involving Japanese poaching vessels continued that summer, these did not affect the ongoing fishing talks, now into the seventh round. The Federal Border Guard reported that incursions into Russian territorial waters had decreased, from 125 recorded incidents in 1995 to only 17 in 1996.221 In November 1996, Primakov visited Japan, and both sides agreed to increase cooperation on all fronts in order to strengthen mutual trust as an important precondition for the eventual signing of a peace treaty. The Russian side once more proposed joint economic development of the Kuril islands, but the Japanese were cautious regarding any such agreements. Significantly, Russia welcomed Japan’s increased role in the international arena, including her election as a nonpermanent member of the UN Security Council.222 Talks were held between Primakov and the new Prime Minister Hashimoto, as well as Ikeda. Both sides expressed satisfaction with the activation of political dialogue and confirmed their intention to push them further within the framework of the strategy spelt out in October 1993. Views converged on the importance of increased cooperation on all fronts in order to strengthen mutual trust as an important precondition for the signing of a peace treaty.223 Such was the change in atmosphere in bilateral relations that Primakov, in a round-up of Russian foreign policy at the end of 1996, drew attention to the ‘positive advances’ made in relations with Japan.224 The year 1997 began with further sessions of the working group on the peace treaty. In May the Foreign Minister Ikeda held talks with Primakov on various aspects of bilateral and multilateral relations and Defence Minister Rodionov visited Japan, which was particularly significant in light of his frequent references to Japan as posing a threat to Russian security. Tensions arose, however, when the Japanese showed continued reluctance to accept Russia as a member of the new ‘G-8’.225 A further session of the intergovernmental commission on trade and economic issues took place in Tokyo in June, at which the Japanese produced a plan for joint cooperation on creating conditions for attracting Japanese investments to Russia. In addition, the subcommission on cooperation with the Russian Far Eastern regions was expanded to include the governors of Siberia and the Far East.226 One of the most significant events of 1997 was a speech by Japanese Prime Minister Hashimoto in July, which signalled a turnaround in Japanese policy towards Russia. In a speech to high-level Japanese businessmen, Hashimoto

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spoke of a new ‘Eurasian Diplomacy’, or more precisely a ‘Eurasian Diplomacy viewed from the Pacific’. The idea was to elaborate a policy that would encompass Russia, Central Asia, China and the Caucasus. With regard to economic relations, with Russia he suggested focusing on strengthening economic relations ‘especially in Siberia and the Far East region, and in particular, in the energy sector’. He stressed, however, that it was essential first to create an environment conducive to investment.227 In 1997 further rounds of fishing talks were held, although it was still emphasised that any agreement resulting from the talks should have only a ‘practical, commercial character’. The Russian MID believed, however, that ‘the conclusion of the agreement could serve as an example for future solutions to certain other, no less complex problems of Russo-Japanese relations’.228 The eleventh round of fishing talks was held in Tokyo in September, with the next round to be held in Moscow in October 1997. The significance of these talks for both sides was clear from Hashimoto’s landmark speech of July 1997 when he described the ‘Framework Negotiations concerning Japanese Fishing Vessels Operating near the Four Northern Islands’ as an example that the principle of trust had ‘moved us forward even on the most difficult issue’. Nevertheless, Hashimoto clearly did not envisage leaving the territorial problem to future generations to resolve, stating his belief that ‘it is the responsibility of our generation to now show the way forward toward the resolution of this issue’.229 The Russian response to Hashimoto’s speech was overwhelmingly positive, and only four days later Primakov met Ikeda at the ASEAN forum on regional security to arrange an informal Russo-Japanese summit in Russia, preferably somewhere other than Moscow. Primakov noted that the ‘specific decision to hold such a meeting is a positive reaction to the statement by Hashimoto’. Primakov was emphatic, however, that the territorial issue would not be on the agenda.230 Meanwhile, in September Hashimoto was elected president of the Liberal Democratic Party, and he immediately replaced the Foreign Minister Ikeda with Keizo Obuchi. According to Saplin, the head of the Russian MID’s Second Asia desk, Obuchi was the best person to put into practice the new principles of Russo-Japanese relations enunciated by Hashimoto. Saplin noted that Obuchi was viewed as a leading member of groupings interested in closer relations with Russia and had met several members of the Russian leadership in the past.231 Later that month, Obuchi and Primakov met in New York and issued a declaration which was significant for the fact that no mention was made of the territorial dispute. (General Aleksandr Lebed’s comments in the same month while on a trip to Tokyo to the effect that Russia had no historical claims to the islands and should hold a referendum passed almost without remark.232) Instead Obuchi and Primakov drew attention to the positive results achieved in negotiations on fishing rights and in the expansion of consular districts: in an unprecedented move the Japanese pledged to include Sakahlin oblast in the consular district of its General Consulate in Khabarovsk. This meant in effect that Japan recognised Russian sovereignty over southern Sakhalin. Finally, the two Foreign Ministers

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emphasised the positive trends in bilateral relations, which confirmed a mutual desire for ‘further development of mutually beneficial links and expansion of interaction between the two countries in international affairs’.233 In the run-up to the November summit, the Japanese Deputy Foreign Minister Minoru Tamba and a 43-strong delegation paid a visit to the Kuril islands (1–2 October), apparently to examine the infrastructure prior to launching joint economic development with Russia – Tamba was the highest-ranking Japanese official ever to visit the islands.234 Almost immediately after Tamba’s visit, the head of administration of the South Kurils district, Vladimir Zema, begged Tokyo for financial help, which; he said, should go directly to the islands, and not via Moscow, asserting that if a referendum on the fate of the islands were held there and then, the result would be a decisive ‘yes’ to secession from Russia.235 There was no response from Tokyo to the appeal, but Tamba declared himself shaken by the dire economic conditions on the islands. At the informal summit held in Krasnoiarsk, Siberia, that November, El’tsin and Hashimoto pledged to solve the dispute by the year 2000 (by which time in any case a new president would be in the Kremlin); but the main achievements of the summit were that another step had been made towards building mutual trust and goodwill, which as Lukin had noted in 1991 was the best foundation for future relations. Importantly, regional initiatives had increased in salience, and meetings were to be set up at regional level on issues of economic relations between the regions of the Russian Far East and Japan.236 The then governor of Krasnoiarsk krai, Valerii Zubov, expressed his feeling that the very fact of the summit being held there was of immeasurable significance for Siberia and the Far East and would promote closer cultural and business ties between Russia and Japan.237 While Japan was now the RFE’s leading trading partner238 (ahead of China), this trade consisted mainly of Russian exports of seafood products and raw materials. It was clear that outside help was necessary for the economic rejuvenation of the Far East, but without a solid promise from the central Russian government to create the necessary investment conditions, large-scale projects would not be possible. Viktor Ishaev, governor of Khabarovsk krai, complained in October 1997 that the Programme for Economic and Social Development of the Far East remained unfulfilled, as there was no funding and no staff to implement it.239 Grigorii Karasin, Deputy Foreign Minister responsible for Asia, interviewed just prior to the summit, underlined the importance Moscow now attached to the participation of the regions in foreign policy, as well as the importance of taking into account public opinion.240 The regions’ importance was further illustrated by the trip to Tokyo of the chairman of the Russian Council of the Federation (parliament’s upper house), Egor Stroev. In his meetings with Hashimoto, Stroev drew attention to the need for greater contacts at the regional level but also an increase in inter-parliamentary links.241 This last was particularly significant, as it was from the Duma that anti-Japanese sentiment had emanated in the past. Now that the government worked more closely with the legislature, harmony in foreign policy was easier to achieve. After Krasnoiarsk, Primakov praised the results of the summit and emphas-

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ised that informal meetings should become the ‘engine of Russo-Japanese relations’. Regarding the peace treaty, it was decided to raise the level of the negotiation process on this issue, and the commission was now to be headed by the chiefs of the two countries’ foreign ministries, rather than deputy ministers. Importantly, Primakov added that Russia hoped that representatives from the Russian regions could be included in the commission.242

Krasnoiarsk and beyond An article in the Japanese monthly Tokyo Sekai following the Krasnoiarsk summit, recalled that ‘a group of specialists on Russia and the Gaimusho’s socalled “Russian school” had been patiently observing El’tsin’. The Gaimusho had gradually came to realise that Japan would not be able to respond to changes in international politics in the post-Cold War era if it continued to subscribe to a rigid policy of the non-separation of politics and economics. Pointing to the various efforts to modify the sekei fukabun in the past, such as kakudai kinko, and later the ‘multilayered approach’, the author noted that neither of these ‘had enough impact to move the Kremlin because they were both idea-driven and did not accompany diplomatic efforts with them’. Significantly, Hashimoto’s Eurasia speech was written by officials who were mainly from the MITI, and there was no input from the Gaimusho, an indication that economic issues were to the forefront. Soskovets had been impressed by Hashimoto’s ideas when he met him in November 1994, and had communicated this to El’tsin, so that when El’tsin first met Hashimoto in April 1996, he was already au fait with his ideas.243 The Krasnoiarsk summit did not bring anything significantly new in terms of economic relations, but Japan showed a willingness to support Russia and its pledge to assist the implementation of large-scale energy projects in Siberia and the Far East was a positive sign. In the international arena, Japan signalled its support for Russian entry to APEC and the WTO, in return for which Russia confirmed its support for Japan’s bid for a seat on the UN Security Council. For Russia the significance of the summit was official Japanese support for economic projects, which, it was hoped, would increase the confidence of at least some Japanese business to invest in Russia. This was the main achievement of the ‘El’tsin–Hashimoto plan’. This sea-change was reflected in recommendations for Japanese ODA: Japan should place priority on ODA to Siberia and the region around the China Sea and should create an environment in which it can actively participate in resource exploitation. The Eurasian continent is enormously promising not only as a market but also as a treasure-house of natural resources. . .244 One very promising development was the signing in February 1998 of an agreement on fishing rights for Japanese trawlers to fish in the waters around the Kuril

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islands for a fee of up to $3 million per annum. In many ways this was a de facto acknowledgement by Japan of Russia’s sovereignty over the islands. However, the unofficial summit at Kanawa in April 1998 showed that Japan was not yet ready to give up its claims to the islands. Now the idea was to focus on border delimitation rather than a simple return of territory;245 however, this was merely a tweaking of terminology, this still meant a return of the islands. There was also mention of recognising Japanese residual sovereignty, but proceeding with joint economic cooperation, and at the November 1998 Summit in Moscow a committee was formed to explore the economic development of the islands, although this mainly focused on fishing. Keizo Obuchi, who had succeeded Hashimoto, signed the Moscow Declaration: according to this both sides formally confirmed the pledge made at Krasnoiarsk to aim to sign a peace treaty by the end of 2000. El’tsin now suggested signing an interim peace treaty if Moscow guaranteed a date for returning all four islands. There was no mention now of the proposals at Kanawa whereby a demarcation line would be drawn north of the Kurils. A positive outcome was that both Moscow and Tokyo agreed to explain to their populations the importance of signing a peace treaty, and a Boundary Designation Committee was established within the joint commission on concluding a peace treaty. However, under Primakov’s stewardship, relinquishing Russian sovereignty was unacceptable. The posting of a new ambassador to Russia in March 1999, Minoru Tamba, was initially seen as cause for optimism: Tamba was born on Sakhalin island and spoke good Russian, but, Russian domestic issues, in particular the war on Chechnia, which began in summer 1999, made any new proposals or attempts at compromise difficult. While the Kosovo intervention did not directly affect Russo-Japanese relations, it resonated far beyond the former Yugoslavia. Japan meanwhile made it clear that until it had a definite commitment not to ‘shelve the territorial issue’, Tokyo would not make any new moves.246 In November 1999 El’tsin announced the cancellation of his planned visit to Tokyo, in fact, there would be no visit at all until March 2000. By then, El’tsin had resigned, leaving the issue to his successor, Vladimir Putin, to resolve.

Conclusion In this section I have described how the territorial dispute has impeded the regularisation of relations between first, the Soviet Union, and then Russia and Japan during the El’tsin years. On the Russian side, there was a gradual realisation that there would have to be a definite break with the past. This was difficult: first, because the Soviet optimism regarding relations with Japan was based on the illusory belief in the complementarity of the two economies and the willingness of Japan to invest in the Russian Far East. Moreover, Moscow now had to reckon with new factors in foreign policy: an active legislature and the need to reckon with public opinion; institutional disarray leading to confusion over policies; and the need to prevent the further disintegration of the state. The disarray in the institutions was particularly noticeable in Russian deal-

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ings with Japan, due to the ‘monopoly’ that the MID exercised in foreign policy for the few months while there was no Russian Defence Ministry. Once the defence establishment had a mouthpiece, it became clear that the MID’s approach to Japan was confined to a few academics and diplomats and was not shared by society at large, let alone the Defence Ministry. These were the internal factors that made rapprochement difficult. However, it was Japan’s lack of understanding for Russia’s internal problems that made resolution of the problem particularly difficult. This stemmed in large part from Japan’s approach to foreign policy, which has been incremental in nature, but also dominated by an ultra-conservative foreign ministry. Tokyo also overestimated the extent of the Russian desire for economic cooperation. While Russia did welcome economic assistance, it was not prepared to sacrifice territory in a quid pro quo deal. So, while bilateral relations were focused solely on the territorial issue, dialogue was not possible, and relations entered deadlock. Dialogue became possible because Russia realised that forcing Japan to the negotiating table to discuss issues in and around, but not exclusively on the territorial issue, might eventually bring results – the agreement on fishing rights is a prime example.247 The assertion of Russian territorial integrity as a state policy, together with Primakov’s new and uncompromising stance which now dovetailed with the views of the Russian military, meant that Japan had no option but to broaden cooperation: territorial concessions were off the agenda for good. The Krasnoiarsk summit was a low-key affair, but both sides had learned that setting expectations too high could only lead to disappointment. Now the task was building trust and goodwill in order to create a framework within which to continue dialogue. There are still those in Japan who look for opportunities to reclaim the islands. Thus one Japanese academic cites the resolution of Russia’s dispute with Ukraine over the Crimea as a ‘frame of reference’ for settlement of the Kurils issue. The author surmises that Russians’ emotional ties to the Crimea are ‘far more intense than that for the Northern Territories’.248 However, some months after the Krasnoiarsk summit, Deputy Foreign Minister Grigorii Karasin gave a pessimistic view of bilateral relations: ‘In 1993 we signed the Tokyo declaration whose key concepts are realism and historical justice. I am afraid that the gap in interpretations of these concepts between the two sides remains’.249 The next section deals with Russo-Japanese relations in the broader context. Here we shall see that differences in interpretations in the bilateral sphere carry over to the international level, and that these two states’ definitions of their roles on the world stage are at opposite poles.

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Our policies on Japan until recently underestimated Japan’s position and roles. . . . Until recently, the power relations in international politics were decided by the military. Now to speak of the Russian Foreign Ministry and the whole Russian government, they recognize Japan’s position as a world power not only in economic, but also in political matters. (Vasilii Saplin of the MID)1

Russia’s relations with Japan outside the bilateral framework were, until the advent of Gorbachev, to all intents and purposes non-existent. Until that point, any moves to improve relations were ‘merely spinoffs of Soviet policy toward the United States and/or China’.2 The constraints of the US–Japan alliance on Soviet policy, but equally, on Japanese foreign policy, have only relatively recently begun to ease. Russian commentators still criticised Tokyo for seeing its relations with Russia ‘as before, through the prism of military-political relations with the United States’.3 Gorbachev’s ‘New Political Thinking’ appeared to herald a new approach to security in the global arena, including the Asia-Pacific: optimism regarding the direction of relations with Japan meant optimism with regard to Russia’s future role in the Asia-Pacific region. One of the reserves of the ‘New Thinking’, which would affect Russia’s relations with Japan, lay in ‘acknowledging the global role and responsibility of Japan for the future of international relations and the situation in the APR’. Japan’s emphasis on multipolarity was seen as beneficial, as Japan would become one of the new ‘poles’, implying the reduction of US influence.4 In fact, as we have seen in the previous chapter, difficulties in the bilateral sphere hampered cooperation in the international sphere, so that Japan would ritually ‘punish’ Russia for intransigence on the territorial issue by first refusing to allow Russia to join the IMF, and later to be part of the G-7, while Russia responded by failing to support Japan’s bid for a permanent seat on the UN Security Council.

Russia and Japan: approaches to the Asia-Pacific The problems surrounding the territorial issue highlighted Russian security concerns, which outweighed the desire for economic assistance from Japan. For this

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reason, Russian dreams of developing the RFE and integrating with the APR, allowing Moscow to move away from military and security considerations proved unrealisable, for the immediate future at least. In addition, there was a dilemma at the heart of Soviet approaches to Japan. A Japan uncoupled from the US–Japan alliance would be, as Soviet thinkers realised, ‘the best possible present for Japanese militarists and right-wingers. . .’5 Thus by 1991 the prevailing view, one which carried over into the early El’tsin period, was that the US military presence in the APR was a factor of stability and security in the region.6 As normalisation of relations became plagued by the territorial issue, however, the arguments of the military appeared once more to carry more weight than those of the diplomats, so that eventually the latter were also obliged to make statements in support of maintaining Russia’s military potential in the Far East. For Japan’s part, the existence of a Soviet threat had been a consistent component of Tokyo’s views on security in the APR. In 1990 for the first time the White Book on Defence omitted the traditional reference to the Soviet threat, although this was apparently when Kaifu believed Gorbachev was about to hand over the islands. Nevertheless, the following year, 1992, the reference was omitted. In 1993 the White Book noted that while Russia maintained huge, modernised and rationalised armed forces, social and economic conditions made it difficult for Russia to maintain its former level of activity. The next edition again pointed to the quantitative reductions in the Russian Far Eastern forces but this time drew attention to their modernisation which ‘coupled with the uncertainty surrounding these military formations mean that these forces represent an element of instability in the region’.7 While Russia did make cuts in its Pacific Fleet, these were quantitative, and Japan maintained that Russia was updating its fleet with new technology. On the other hand, the combat readiness of the fleet was constantly being called into question due to social and economic problems, and compared to the United States’ naval potential was still considerably lower. Japan viewed Russia as a possible threat if only because of its internal problems, for example, one analyst noted that there was a danger inherent in Russia’s frustration, ‘as they compare their own unstable government, depressed economy, and waning military power with China’s growing economic, conventional-weapons, and nuclear might’.8 Certainly, statements by top naval officers would appear to confirm this: for example, the commander-in-chief of the Russian naval forces, Feliks Gromov, stated in 1993 that while the quantitative strength of the naval strategic nuclear forces would drop by around 50 per cent, the forces’ qualitative strength would be brought into line with contemporary requirements.9 Calls by Russian defence officials for the upgrading of the naval forces noticeably increased around the time of debates over the Kurils issue. However, while the possible handover of the islands was a cause of concern to the Russian armed forces, one should bear in mind that this was in the context of the establishment of a new Russian defence ministry and the overall need to emphasise territorial integrity to legitimise the new Russian state. Russian fears regarding the resurgence of Japanese militarism arose from the growth of Japanese economic power, which, as one Russian military analyst

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observed, allowed Tokyo to build its relations with the United States on an equal basis. This, Russia argued, makes Japan more confident of its ability to act independently which, combined with territorial claims, ‘an inherent component of Japanese policy’, could introduce new and negative elements into the APR.10 These arguments are not without foundation, for in the words of one Japanese businessman, the reason why Japan has been able to make forceful arguments on the territorial dispute is entirely due to the increased strength of Japanese ‘national power’.11 A consensus has emerged which indicates that all are agreed on the necessity of maintaining an adequate military presence in the Far East. There was criticism of the decision in autumn 1992 to remove tactical weapons from ships and to reduce submarine orders by 50 per cent: the critics argued that this, coupled with the implementation of the 1993 START II agreement, could lead to a serious loss of strategic nuclear capability in the naval forces of the RFE.12 The notion that Japan could become a formidable military power in the next century was often advanced – for example, General Georgii Mekhov cited strategic arguments for not ceding any islands to Tokyo. Mekhov noted the calls in ‘certain Japanese circles’ for a revision of the peace constitution and for a significant build-up in the air and naval forces, concluding that one should not rule out a scenario whereby a reduced Russian military presence, in particular in the Far East, would result in a military and strategic vacuum to be filled by Japan.13 This argument was also put forward by Colonel Viktor Stefashin, who stated that Japan’s aim was to increase its political influence on a global scale by using diplomatic and economic means in order to achieve greater independence in the defence sphere, and ultimately to raise Japan–US strategic relations to a level of ‘global partnership’. This, according to Stefashin, was the cornerstone of the Japanese Armed Forces’ development plans because it corresponds best to Japan’s aim of becoming a ‘full-blown great power’.14 Russia’s policy on strategic nuclear forces was spelt out in the federal programme ‘World Ocean’ published in early 1997, where the section on Russian military–strategic interests emphasised the need to maintain the naval strategic forces as ‘the most effective means of containment’.15 On the other hand, there was ambivalence in Russia regarding the prospect of a more independent Japan. While the military have tended to see this as a potential threat to Russia’s security,16 others saw this as an opportunity for Russia to step in. Thus Aleksei Pushkov noted that in Japan ‘they are beginning to assess more coolly their military–political dependence on the USA. Even more so, because the constant “trade wars” with the Americans give rise to additional mutual tension . . .’17

The United Nations and the G-7 Japan’s bid to become a permanent member of the UN Security Council is part and parcel of the idea that its global status ‘has earned it a permanent voice in the Security Council’.18 However, initial Russian (and Chinese) reluctance to support this bid stemmed partly from the idea that a greater political role for Japan might

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automatically lead to a greater military role. Moreover, Russia’s own claim to great power status might then be called into question, based as it is, not on its economy, but its status as a victor in the Second World War. Despite Russia’s constant admonitions not to think in Cold War terms, any challenge to the dominance of the P-5 is inconceivable. On the other hand, Russia is happy to bend the rules when necessary: shortly after the cancellation of El’tsin’s visit to Japan in September 1992, Kozyrev expressed amazement that ‘Italy and even Japan are in the G-7 while Russia, with all her riches, is not. It is simply because we were frozen inside a totalitarian regime. As soon as we defrost ourselves and become a normal democratic state, then of course our place is there [the G-7] . . .’19 Japan pressed strongly for the inclusion in the declaration at the 1993 G-7 summit of a clause exhorting Russia to hand back the islands to Japan. However, unlike 1992, the G-7 failed to accede to Japan’s request.20 Russia feels that it is automatically entitled to become a G-7 member. As Kozyrev observed, in some cases Russia wielded more political influence than ‘other G-7 members’ (a dig at Japan) if only, as he stated, because Russia is ‘an old member of the Security Council, and . . . there are only four permanent members of the Security Council in G-7’.21 The Japanese view of the G-7 diverged from the other members, in particular regarding economic assistance to Russia; as one Japanese analyst put it: The Japanese tended to view the situation in a more detached manner, arguing that a lot of money could simply be wasted unless we made sure that the conditions for success existed and unless the assistance we were offering would be well spent for a good cause. Europeans, on the other hand, saw aid as vital because El’tsin’s failure would mean a ‘catastrophe’ for Europe.22 Japan’s interest in promoting democracy sometimes appeared to pale beside its pursuit of economic aims: for example, in 1991 the then Japanese Finance Minister, Ryutaro Hashimoto, persuaded the other G-7 members to soften economic sanctions against China.23 The G-7 is viewed by Japan as a prime example of aid diplomacy, which has become the conduit for Tokyo to influence world politics. As Japan is the only Asian power represented in the G-7, it can claim with some justification to represent Asian interests, or even to be a role model.24 In this forum Japan’s economic clout gives it a higher political profile, as Kuniko Inoguchi emphasises, the G-7 summits have: expanded Japan’s scope for political manoeuvring. In the Japan–US relationship the power balance tended to appear lopsided. . . . But in G-7 consultations, the EC countries often clash with the United States, and Japan is able to strengthen its position by cooperation and coordinating interests with various countries.25 Just as Russia felt it had an innate right to be a member of the G-7, so Japan felt it was ‘unnatural’ for a country that plays an important role in international cooperative action not to be a permanent member of the UN Security Council.26 In both the G-7 and the United Nations, the argument runs, Japan should use its

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bilateral relations to promote international cooperation. Changing the criteria for membership of the UNSC from the victors of the Second World War to economic success, would call into question Russia’s own membership of this body. Other Asian nations have also opposed a Security Council seat for Japan. South Korea said it would support a seat for Japan, but only one without power of veto, while India stated its belief that as a representative for Asia, Delhi would be ‘more worthy’ of a permanent seat. However, objections have not been confined to Asian countries. Led by Italy, around 20 countries, half the member countries on the working group for Security Council reform, were against the expansion of the permanent Security Council member countries. Not one ASEAN country leader was actively in favour of Japan’s gaining a Security Council seat according to one Japanese analyst.27 For this reason it cost Russia little to continue to oppose Japanese membership. However, knowing how much outside support meant to Japan in symbolic terms, Russia finally relented and gave its support to the Japanese bid at the Krasnoiarsk summit, albeit only once it had secured Japanese support for its own bid to join APEC and the G-7. Japan also played the ‘China card’ by opining that Russia must make an economic as well as a political contribution to world affairs, adding that if Russia were admitted to the G-7 then Japan would propose China, as its foreign trade was twice that of Russia.28

The China factor Russia regularly called for the USA to cut its forces alongside Japanese reductions, although these calls were largely ignored.29 The new ‘Guidelines on US–Japan Defence Cooperation’, published in September 1997, stated clearly that 100,000 troops would still be needed in the Asia-Pacific. There was no change then since 1994, when 35,000 troops were withdrawn from the East Asian theatre. Since then, further reductions have been put on hold.30 Rumiantsev, the former head of the Supreme Soviet Committee on Constitutional Affairs, and author of the report on the territorial dispute, asserted that the USA and Japan were not curtailing the size of their groupings or systems ‘either in this region or on the distant approaches to it’.31 Russia was not specific about which states threatened its security in the Far East, but from a geostrategic viewpoint, it was clear that Russia would have to be prepared to counter potential threats from China, the US–Japan alliance and North Korea. The new Russian emphasis on China as a strategic partner may have been reason enough for the USA and Japan to further strengthen commitments in the Asia-Pacific. Indeed, Japan expressed concern regarding Russian arms sales to China: for example around the time of the first Sino-Russian summit in December 1992, the Japanese Minister of International Trade and Industry said that while Tokyo supported economic reforms in Russia, it was concerned about arms sales.32 Two days later another Japanese official told a news conference that he hoped Beijing would ‘keep within a certain limit and exercise moderation’.33 Japanese comments around the time of the CIS aid conference a month earlier had also emphasised

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that Japan could not render economic assistance to states which engaged in weapons proliferation. Russia denied that its arms sales would upset the regional balance and at the December 1992 summit, El’tsin told Tokyo and Washington to stop speculating about Russia ‘creating yet again some sort of a union bloc between the PRC and Russia. . . . There is no such bloc, especially not in the military field.’34 Japan saw China’s modernisation of its armed forces as pushing India and Pakistan to update their nuclear arsenals, but also as encouraging North Korea to test its nuclear weapons.35 Not having military capabilities of its own, Japan continued to rely on the US nuclear umbrella for protection, situated as it is close to three nuclear powers, and Japanese analysts argue that the nuclear umbrella is essential to allay fears that it might build up its own nuclear capacity.36 However, there were indications that Japan might indeed be prepared to develop its own nuclear weapons programme. One Japanese foreign minister stated his opinion that Japan should be ready to take this step due to the possibility of nuclear attack from North Korea.37

Russia, Japan and the RFE In the 1970s when Japan was looking to invest in the Russian Far East, China was apparently ‘bitterly opposed to Japanese aid for Siberian development’, fearing that this would contribute to a Soviet defence build-up.38 By the mid1990s Japan was the biggest trade partner for the Russian Far East, although officially the centre was oriented towards China. A witness at US Senate hearings on US–Japanese relations signalled that Japanese interest in the region would grow if ‘the economic zone in Western Siberia could be, in essence, separated in economic management from the entire Soviet Union, to become a more efficient part of the Japan Sea economic zone . . .’39 This kind of regionalism is fraught with difficulties for Russia, because of its sensitivity to centrifugal tendencies in the Russian Far East. Despite Moscow’s early toleration of regional independence, it later moved to tighten control over the foreign policies of its regions.40 On the other hand, Moscow indicated that it was in favour of economic independence for the regions, as long as this does not translate into political independence.41 It is possible that Japan may see Russia as a counterweight to China in the Far East, despite historical fears of offending China.42 Aleksei Arbatov believed that Russia and Japan were united by common economic interest in the development of the natural resources of the Far East, ‘the prevention of hegemony in the Asia-Pacific Ocean region, and maintenance of at least a semblance of stability on the Korean peninsula’. Further, he stated that the key to security in Siberia and the Far East lay, ‘along with maintaining a reasonable defence potential, in the development of balanced relations with other powers in the region, and above all – with Japan’.43 After Hashimoto’s ‘Eurasia’ speech, there was renewed interest from Japanese business in the Russian Far East. Thus, the president of Michinoku Bank believed that the Japanese government ‘should take the place of central government to nurture the Far East so that it will be able to harvest the fruit from there

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in the future. I think all the statesmen in the Far East would agree to this. They want Japan to do lots of things because Moscow is not capable . . .’44 Towards the end of the El’tsin period, there was a growing acknowledgement by Japanese analysts of the positive role China had played in Russo-Japanese relations. Thus, the director of the Nomura Institute stressed that ‘China was a “catalyst” in changing the relationship between Japan and Russia to one that seeks active cooperation’, noting further that Russia and China’s ‘strategic partnership’ was their biggest ‘diplomatic weapon’.45 Changing the target of the US–Japan security treaty from the Soviet Union to China, and expanding its scope to include Taiwan is anathema to China. Officially Japan and the USA deny that the reanimated alliance is explicitly aimed at China, but it does have the ‘implicit goal of maintaining a balance in regional security at the level of major-power relations’. Long-term Chinese actions will decide whether this general and implicit aspect of the alliance develops into overt China-oriented security strategies.46 Despite Japan’s advocacy of multilateralism, this did not tend to extend into the military sphere. In March 1995 a military delegation to Tokyo led by General Boris Gromov, proposed confidence-building measures in the military sphere including invitations to military exercises, joint actions of naval forces and mutual visits of warships. However, the Japanese were wary of agreeing to these proposals and stated their preference for tackling all problems on a bilateral basis, ‘Japan–United States, Japan–China and Japan–Russia’.47 The following year the head of the Japan Defence Agency, Hideo Usui visited Moscow and met with Primakov, an unprecedented event, and while there were no concrete results, the trip assisted dialogue on global issues, including security in the APR.48 From now on meetings at the ministerial level began to address other issues than simply the bilateral territorial issue. Meetings now addressed questions such as Russian participation in APEC and the situation on the Korean Peninsula. A further contribution towards confidence building in the military sphere was made when the commander-in-chief of the Pacific Fleet, Kuroedov, visited Japan in November 1996. Russia acknowledged Japan’s interest in becoming a member of the UN Security Council, without actually supporting it.49 A significant breakthrough came with the visit to Tokyo of Igor’ Rodionov in May 1997. Despite his speech of December 1996 listing Japan as a threat to Russian security, he now emphasised that Russia no longer viewed the US–Japan alliance as a threat to its security: ‘Russia is not worried by the close relations between the USA and Japan in the sphere of security in the Asia-Pacific region’.50 Russia and Japan subsequently pledged further to strengthen military ties by holding joint naval exercises, although the Japanese delegation requested that China be included in any talks between Russia, Japan and the United States on security in the APR.51 Japan worried that the United States ‘might forget about Japan’ due to its engagement of China and this may have been an additional reason for Japan’s decision to make changes to its Russia policy in 1997. Thus

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one Japanese analyst believed that China had already usurped Japan in Washington’s Asia policy.52 Japan often tried to take on the role of mediator between Washington and Beijing, but its political weakness, and the continuing suspicion between China and Japan, made this a difficult task. Could improved relations between Japan and Russia have a beneficial effect on relations between China and Japan? As noted above, Russia’s decision to support Japan’s bid to become a permanent member of the UN Security Council was important for Japan, but in particular because it could even impact favourably on China’s attitude. The Japanese political analyst, Shigeki Hakamada, observed that improvements in Russo-Japanese relations would contribute to improvements in Sino-Japanese relations.53 Certainly there were those in Russia who hinted that Tokyo could not ‘ignore’ Moscow’s improved relations with both Beijing and Seoul, and even warned that Japan could end up isolated, as other states flocked to take advantage of ‘the huge Russian market, its raw materials and intellectual potential’.54 At the same time Tokyo must have realised the impossibility of expecting Russia to join any overt moves to contain China. The main worry for Japan was that Russo-Chinese strategic cooperation might be a destabilising influence in the Asia-Pacific region, particularly in the light of Russian attempts to repair relations with North Korea and strengthen its military positions. A reunited Korea also worried Japan, because its economic strength combined with Korean nationalism, might make it more hostile.55 Russia had attempted to play ‘the South Korean card’, although this was shortlived, as it soon became clear that South Korea was not about to commit largescale aid to Russia either. Andrei Zagorsky stressed that unlike the Gorbachev period, South Korea was not seen as an available replacement for Japan in Moscow’s Asia-Pacific policy and did not acquire a ‘strategic position in Russian calculations’.56 As China’s economic power grew and its armed forces acquired ever more up-to-date weaponry, its confidence to challenge the United States was seen as increasing, so that Beijing could put pressure not only on Taiwan but also on Japan and other Asian countries. This at least appeared to be the underlying rationale for the redefinition of the US–Japan alliance in 1996 and the drawing-up of the ‘New Guidelines’ which implied the main threat to regional security would emanate not from the north, Russia, but from the west, i.e. China and North Korea. While eschewing direct references to the question of their sovereignty, American officials also indicated that the disputed Senkaku (Diaoyutai) islands, claimed by Japan, China and Taiwan, were included in the remit ‘areas surrounding Japan’.57

Japan and Central Asia Although Japan did not share the same security concerns of Russia and China in Central Asia, the region acquired increased significance for Japan from the mid1990s on. Japan’s energy needs were mainly sourced from the Middle East, but due to the instability of this region, Tokyo had begun to look to alternative sources. An obvious source was the Russian Far East, but we have seen the

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problems associated with developing existing resources here; still, after 1997 the Japanese expressed somewhat greater enthusiasm, for example regarding the Sakhalin project. In 1992 Japan began to look at the Central Asian states as recipients for Official Development Assistance, but its political profile there was still marginal. Many Russian analysts warned that Japan’s economic influence in Central Asia might have negative repercussions for Russia,58 as eventually Tokyo’s economic interests could translate into political influence and even affect these countries’ military affiliations.59 Japanese involvement in these states was seen as yet another example of the West (Japan being viewed mainly as part of the West in Russia) seeking to undermine Russian influence in the region as a whole. Thus an analyst at the Russian Institute of Strategic Studies, a think-tank sponsored by the presidential administration, made it clear that Russia’s task was to pursue a course directed at defending the interests of the Russian economy, and to develop integration with these countries [Central Asian] in order to counteract those plans and projects which could disrupt essential ties and obstruct the reestablishment and preservation of Russian influence in the region.60 Articles in the Russian press devoted to Japanese economic investment in Central Asia were generally hostile and drew unfavourable comparisons between Japanese investment in Central Asia and its lack of interest in the Russian Far East.61 One nationalist journalist and Japanologist stressed that the ultimate goal of Japanese capital investment in Central Asia was to weaken these countries’ links to Russia.62 This is in marked contrast to the favourable light in which China’s Central Asian policy is viewed. One researcher saw the emphasis on Central Asia as part of Japan’s overall drive for ‘re-asianisation’, i.e. balancing its involvement with the United States and Europe.63 Certainly Hashimoto, in his now famous ‘Eurasian doctrine’ speech of 1997, emphasised that Japan felt ‘deep-rooted nostalgia for this region stemming from the glory of the days of the Silk Road’.64 Japan itself appeared somewhat unclear about its identity in the wider region, and Zbigniew Brzezinski goes so far as to claim that Japan is ‘not perceived as truly Asian by many Asians . . .’65 This is a legacy of the debates in the nineteenth century regarding Japan’s future: whether it should break away from Asia and move towards Europe or lead a ‘greater East Asia’.66 Like Russia perhaps, Japan is not entirely at ease in either Europe or Asia, and both feared that they might come lower down on Washington’s agenda, as it tried to deal with China in the next century.

Conclusion As we have seen in the first section of this chapter, the territorial dispute overshadowed all aspects of Soviet–Japanese, and later Russo-Japanese relations. Since the Second World War the Kuril islands had served as a defence against

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‘Japanese aggression’, and like the rest of the Russian Far East was put into the service of the military, while economic development was low on the list of priorities. The deterioration in the economic situation in the Far East seemed already under Gorbachev to be an insoluble problem. For a while the islands appeared to be a means of solving the issue, but the politicisation of economic issues engendered by the new thinking meant that the notion of exchanging the islands in return for economic aid came to seem akin to a betrayal of national interests. This trend became more noticeable once El’tsin arrived on the political scene: his appeals to a new Russian nationalism, in part to outmanoeuvre Gorbachev politically, backfired. Now, when El’tsin himself tried to set out terms of negotiation with Japan, the nationalist tendencies which he had fostered rose up to oppose him and his policies, specifically in relation to the Kurils issue. For this reason, the idea of rejuvenating the Russian Far East in partnership with Japan came to seem an impossibility, and the ongoing improvements in the relationship with China highlighted the deadlocked nature of Russo-Japanese relations. The internal rivalry between government and presidential structures, but also within these structures themselves (for example, between the MID and the Ministry of Defence) drew attention to the fact that there was no overall strategy in place for dealing with Japan. By December 1992, the shortlived reign of the romantic democrats was over, and a new pragmatism was coming into focus: the Russo-Chinese summit that same month, and the appointment of the industrialist Chernomyrdin confirmed the shift in emphasis at the highest levels. The politicisation of economic issues continued apace: industrialists ensured that the defence industries would continue to receive subsidies, and the West was attacked for its attempt to impose Western models of development on Russia and stripping Russia of valuable resources. The mood was not conducive to rapprochement with Japan. At the same time the industrialist lobby dearly wished for help from Japan to develop the oil and gas industries of the Russian Far East. The events of October 1993 further politicised the military and raised its profile vis-à-vis the civilians at the foreign ministry. Moreover, the increased frequency of Russo-Chinese military exchanges, as well as Russian arms transfers to Beijing, were also reducing the role of Kozyrev’s Foreign Ministry. It was not until the arrival of Primakov at the beginning of 1996 that the Foreign Ministry could once more take the initiative in foreign policy, including policy towards Japan. Primakov understood that only by disentangling the territorial issue from Russian relations with Japan could progress be made. He also understood that comparing Japanese intransigence on the Kurils issue with its more flexible stance on the Senkaku island dispute with China would send a clear signal to Tokyo that the idea of a revival of the 1956 declaration or any other such compromise on the islands was henceforth off limits. Moreover, it was now up to Tokyo to think up new initiatives, rather than vice-versa. The result was that Tokyo did indeed make some effort to rethink its policies towards Russia. By recognising the significance of good political relations with

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Russia, Tokyo was taking an important step towards reducing the mercantilist nature of Japanese foreign policy. If good relations with Russia could be seen as a goal in their own right, then in the long term there might be progress on the islands, but as a by-product, rather than as the centrepiece of relations. Progress on the issue of fishing rights highlighted the success of both the Russian, and the new Japanese approach. In the wider arena, relations between Russia and Japan continued to be complicated by the presence of the United States, but even the Russian armed forces acknowledged that the alliance was a necessary evil in order to restrain Japanese militarism. At the same time, since the end of the Cold War, various Russian military experts expressed concern that Japan’s growing confidence and increased power as a nation could encourage it to aspire to equal relations with the USA, and that this might lead to Japanese revanchism. However, the rise of China also underlined the fact that the US–Japan alliance would be the only means of checking Chinese military power. Japan may also have seen Russia as a possible counterweight to China, or even as a means of increasing its political weight in the global arena, as some in Japan worried that China may replace Japan as Washington’s main partner in the region. Ultimately Japan did not have a pressing need for good relations with Russia and remained secure under the US nuclear umbrella. On the other hand, cooperation in the Russian Far East could be a good opportunity for both to counter Chinese predominance in the longer term, as well as securing vital energy resources. Neither wished to alarm China however, by making overt moves towards a partnership that appeared to alienate Beijing. During this period, it was clear that while Moscow and Tokyo did have areas of common interest, until now the stakes had not been very high. Some saw the uncertainty surrounding the future development of China as the necessary spur to raise the stakes. For the moment, the disequilibrium between Russia’s political influence and Japan’s economic presence held relations back.

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Russian policy towards China under Putin

The convergence of approaches between the Russian Federation and the People’s Republic of China on key issues of global politics is one of the basic supports for regional and global stability. (Russia’s Foreign Policy Concept (2000))

Sovereignty and intervention Only a few days after becoming Acting President in August 1999, Putin met Chi Haotian (the Chinese Defence Minister) in Moscow and announced that a solid foundation had been laid for carrying expanded cooperation over into the twenty-first century. He teased Beijing by hinting that his first trip as elected president would be to China: in fact, it was to the UK. Initially, the Chinese were somewhat wary of Putin, as he appeared not to pay much attention to his eastern neighbour, preferring to emphasise the Europeanness of his outlook as someone who had lived and worked in Europe in Soviet times. However, Putin did make a point of citing China as a model to emulate in economic terms, telling Russians they should look to China for lessons on how to attract foreign investment and increase economic growth.1 One of Putin’s first tasks after his election as president in Spring 2000, was to tackle the US bid to build a National Missile Defence Programme and its proposed abrogation of the ABM treaty: for China this raised the spectre of Japan being drawn into plans for defence of Taiwan, in violation of Chinese sovereignty. China was unhappy with Putin’s suggestions for a pan-European missile defence system as an alternative scheme: this implied the exclusion of China. However, after their first summit, Putin and Jiang Zemin issued a strong condemnation of US plans for missile defence shields stating that the US plan was to ‘achieve unilateral superiority in military and security matters’.2 In a particularly forceful statement they also insisted that the USA would be ‘held totally responsible for undermining international stability and security and for all the consequences arising therefrom’.3 The intervention in Kosovo revealed the similarity of views on international issues that would bring Russia and China closer, despite the initial lack of enthusiasm. The context was the NATO-led invasion of Kosovo, which Russia (and

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China) had opposed, despite its eventual participation in KFOR, and the issues which this raised regarding sovereignty, in particular separatism/secessionist tendencies within the Russian Federation. Despite Russia’s participation in the peacekeeping contingent, military action in Serbia was condemned as the thin end of the interventionist wedge. For Russia, Kosovo raised the spectre of secessionist states within Russia itself: Vladimir Putin and his Foreign Minister Ivanov could not emphasise enough the need to maintain the central role of the state: ‘the weakening of the state’s authority leads to the spread of such phenomena as international terrorism, militant separatism, and organized crime’.4 As far as Russia was concerned, the humanitarian argument was used only as a pretext to intervene in Kosovo. The parallels between Kosovo and Chechnia, or even Kosovo and Xinjiang, where a Moslem population in an ‘autonomous’ region was being persecuted, were stark: for China and Russia however, the Kosovar Liberation Army were terrorists, not freedom fighters, and the West’s tacit approval and encouragement of their aims was seen as tantamount to support for secessionism. Therefore, such concepts as humanitarian intervention and limited sovereignty were deemed unacceptable justifications for by-passing the UN Security Council. At Putin and Jiang Zemin’s first summit after Putin’s election as president in 2000, the Chinese president reiterated that Chechnia was Russia’s internal affair, and that ‘foreign countries have no right to interfere in the matter [. . .] The Chinese side will, as always support Russia’s efforts to fight against terrorists and separatists, and actions to safeguard the country’s integrity.’5

Russian elite attitudes No one now questioned the primacy of China in Russian’s foreign policy agenda and there are as yet no groups actively lobbying for a drastic improvement in Russo-Japanese relations. Some old images persist: the Damanskii island incident of the 1960s still looms large in the mind of the older generation, and in the senior echelons of the armed forces in particular. These images are prevalent in the Russian Far East and Siberia too, and fears of Chinese expansionism are regularly stoked up by the Russian media, particularly since the recent territorial concessions made to China. The Russian armed forces, in common with militaries in most countries, are trained to be aware of all hypothetical threats, and still cite China as a potential aggressor; what has changed is that this is now more likely to be couched in terms of competition for resources and Chinese expansionism into the Russian Far East, than in purely military terms. The threat from NATO has been downgraded, but the Chinese factor ‘dictates that the main political thrust be placed on nuclear weapons and strategic cooperation with the West. A large-scale conflict cannot be ruled out’, says an analyst working with the General Staff, and reminds readers of Mao’s policy of expanding China’s borders.6 There is a sense that while China needs ‘a reliable rear area’ (i.e. Russia) and does not pose a serious threat to Russia, by its ‘sheer weight’ in the international system ‘it is quite capable of suppressing the will of other states’.7 In the six years since Putin came to power China has continued its inexorable

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rise both economically and politically. According to Vasilii Mikheev, Taiwanese propaganda also finds an audience in the rightist, liberal wing of Russia’s political and intellectual elite. Mikheev points out that while ‘the roots of anti-China sentiment are not as strong and deep as anti-US sentiment on a political/ideological level, on a day-to-day level (the man on the street), it is the opposite: anti-Chinese feeling is stronger than anti-American. This is manifested in the popular perceptions of Chinese traders as untrustworthy and of Chinese goods as of inferior quality. Moreover, in the Russian regions adjoining China, there is envy of Chinese economic success against a background of poorly-resourced Russian territory.’ Mikheev concludes however, that ‘there are no solid antiChinese forces. Any existing such feeling is limited in scope and marginal, lodged in ultra-nationalism and has no serious influence on Russian policy towards China.’8

Popular attitudes Nevertheless, one domestic factor which has negative implications for relations with both China and Japan, is the increase in xenophobia under Putin: the reasons are complex, and no doubt some of it can be ascribed to the increase in the number of foreign workers living in Russia, the continuance of the Chechen War, and the disenfranchisement and disillusionment of some sections of the population, but the media also helps to fuel these fears. As one analyst put it, if the media are to be believed, then in the RFE there are areas where Chinese outnumber Russians and it seems that ‘the further one lives from the RFE, the more one worries about the China threat’.9 The issue of Chinese migration is not restricted to the RFE, however: many Chinese live in the Russian capital for example, and Beijing expressed concern when in summer 2003 Moscow authorities closed down ten out of 30 apartment buildings housing Chinese nationals during the SARS epidemic, citing sanitary reasons and making thousands of Chinese homeless. Shortly afterwards the Chinese government and its embassy in Moscow warned Chinese visiting or living in Russia to be on guard and ready for random inspections by policy as well as the growing threat of racist attacks.10 A fire at a Moscow university hall of residence in autumn 2003 which claimed the lives of 41 Chinese students, was seen as badly handled, and there were accusations by the Chinese that the rescue operation had been botched, perhaps deliberately. Indeed such was the concern, that Beijing dispatched a joint working group of officials from the foreign and education ministries to Moscow, and even raised the issue of compensation for the victims’ families, but the Russian side was not forthcoming.11 Chinese residents in Moscow also reported that not only did they fear attacks by racist thugs, but they were subject to extortion and intimidation by the corrupt Russian police, from whom they could expect little protection.12 Opinion polls conducted since Putin’s accession to power demonstrate that basic attitudes to China remain quite hostile. Thus, in 2001 the ‘Social opinion fund’ began a series of research projects which were intended to gain Russians’

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impressions of a range of countries, the nature of their relations with Russia, and international problems related to this. The surveys showed that there was continuing ambivalence regarding the term ‘West’ which many saw as linked to mercantilism and a lack of spirituality, and this showed in attitudes towards the USA, as 32 per cent had a negative view; 22.7 per cent had a negative view of China, and only 16.7 per cent had negative views of Japan: good elite relations are not necessarily translated into good relations at the lower levels. The Chinese were seen as hardworking and disciplined, but they were also associated with negative traits: ‘yellow skin’, ‘slanted eyes’ and a ‘cunning nature’. Nevertheless, 67 per cent saw China as a friendly country, and 40 per cent thought partnership with China more important than with the USA. As many as 20–25 per cent feared China, although the survey showed that the proportion seeing China as a high-level threat decreased from 17 per cent in August 1997 to 2 per cent in November 2001. However, in the Far East of Russia, more than one-third (34 per cent) see China as a hostile country.13 Later surveys conducted in 2005 showed that only 8 per cent of Russians now viewed China as a friend, while 45 per cent thought China was an adversary; however, 47 per cent considered China a model for success in economic terms.14

The ingredients of a ‘strategic partnership’? The so-called ‘strategic partnership’ (a term widely used in the press, but less so at an official level) of the two countries should be treated with caution: because of the high volume of arms sales to China and their membership and sponsorship of the SCO, it would be easy to assume that this partnership was more significant than it really is. Let us recall that China at one point had a ‘strategic partnership’ with the USA, and also with Japan, and that Russia also has a ‘strategic partnership’ with India and the European Union. The following is revealing: ‘Despite similar views on many international security questions – [. . .] – the dialogue produced few, if any, meaningful joint positions.’ This is a description of relations between Russia and the EU, but could just as easily have been written about Russia and China: certainly there is a dialogue, but China has always been clear that it will not enter into any military alliances, and the joint declarations on international issues, while displaying shared views on a range of topics, does not add up to anything substantial. Neither country actively coordinated positions on Iraq, for example, although they apparently consulted each other: there was far more high-level and substantive dialogue between Russia, France and Germany, than between Moscow and Beijing. As Beijing demonstrated during the Kosovo crisis, China prefers to keep a relatively low profile in the United Nations, perhaps abstaining, but not using its veto power. As regards reform of the UN, Russia does not side with China in opposing Japanese membership of the Security Council, a prospect that is anathema to Beijing. On the other hand, official Russian policy is that while Moscow does not oppose Japanese membership, this should only take place in the context of an overall consensus in favour of such a move, i.e. Russia does not actively

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support Tokyo’s bid (this is in contrast with Russia’s overt support for Germany’s bid).15 Given the fact that only the P-5 are able to give the go-ahead for new permanent members, Russia’s stance is of little use to Japan, and China’s veto means Japan’s chances of obtaining a seat are nil. As with EU–Russia relations, economic interdependence does not necessarily translate into political unanimity or closeness: as Lynch notes, EU dependence on Russian energy has not ‘spilled over’ in ways one might expect into the political dialogue in terms of influencing EU positions.16 Thus, economics and politics are decoupled: the EU is confident that economic relations will flourish, despite political differences. This is in contrast to Sino-Russian relations, where economic relations have languished, despite political unanimity. For this reason, the much-touted ‘identical’ views on world order appeared to be of little practical use in the face of economic realities. However, the improved economic relations and the final demarcation of the border have made it easier to discuss lowerlevel problems and issues. As with the EU’s relationship with Russia, the ‘shared neighbourhood’ (in this case the joint border and Central Asia) makes cooperation a necessity, not a choice. Russian relations with the EU have become problematic and conflicted, but ‘European and universal values remain at the core of relations [. . .]’17 It is unclear whether Russia and China can claim the same of their relations.

Summitry The new pre-eminence of China in Russian foreign policy was exemplified by the 2001 Treaty on Goodneighbourliness, Friendship and Cooperation, signed in July 2001 by Putin and Jiang Zemin. This built on statements made in the 2000 Declaration, but was more detailed, focusing on confidence and trust-building measures and policies: e.g. article 7 discusses the need further to improve trust around the border area, including maintaining forces at a level of ‘reasonable military sufficiency’. Article 9 specifically notes that if one party to the treaty ‘believes that there is a threat of aggression which could be a threat to peace ‘involving its security interests’, ‘the two parties will immediately make contact and hold consultations in order to eliminate the threat’. The gulf between ‘North and South’ is noted as a cause for concern, and both sides deplore the policy of ‘double standards’ whereby human rights issues are used as an instrument of pressure in international affairs.18 There were no obvious changes in China’s Russia policy, but Jiang was the last of the generation of Chinese leaders that had been educated in the Soviet Union and spoke Russian; the new generation does not speak Russian and is ‘conditioned by the reform decades during which China has been reforming itself away from the past Soviet model . . .’19 What was new was the space devoted to more routine issues, demonstrating a growing maturity in relations. In their declarations from the December 2002 summit, Jiang and Putin described the year 2002 as one of the most dynamic ever in bilateral relations. Hu Jintao’s first visit to Russia in May 2003 came shortly after the Coalition’s invasion of

116 Russian policy towards China under Putin Iraq; President Hu made a point of drawing attention to the fact that not only was this his first visit to Russia, but that it was also his first visit to a foreign country since becoming president. The 2003 Joint Declaration devoted far more space to international affairs, and the role of the United Nations in particular, hardly surprising after the sidelining of the UN during the Iraq crisis. At the same time, the tone of statements on international issues appeared to become less strident and more nuanced: thus, instead of the emphasis on hegemonism, there is an oblique reference to the ‘logic of force and the policy of one-sided actions, which introduce new factors of instability to an already unstable world’.20 There were quite specific statements on Iraq that reflected both parties’ disquiet regarding the role of the USA in Iraq, although the USA was not named: ‘it is essential to guarantee the sovereignty, political autonomy and territorial integrity of Iraq, to respect the freedom and independent choice of the Iraqi people as well as their right to administer the country’s natural resources.’21 As President Hu said, Russia and China were ‘laying the foundations for close cooperation on important issues that affect our sovereignty, territorial integrity and national dignity’. He further emphasised that while their views on world and regional affairs appeared to be more and more in harmony, there was still a long way to go on the economic front.22 The Beslan tragedy overshadowed the next summit, which was held in Moscow in October 2004, just weeks after the siege. The section on global terror in the joint declaration was clearly informed by the recent events, and efforts to establish a regular high-level mechanism for consultation on security issues were stepped up; ‘Double standards in the war on terror were singled out.’23 At this summit, the border was declared to be fully demarcated, and a supplementary agreement on the border was added which dealt with the demarcation of the eastern part of the joint border and specifically on navigation of Russian and Chinese vessels in the waters around and belonging to the islands of Tarabarov and Bol’shoi Ussuriiskii. The resolution of the border question was hailed not only as a huge achievement in bilateral relations but also as ‘a successful example of the settlement of border disputes for all countries’. Both Putin and Hu made it clear that this would allow them to embark on both deeper and broader cooperation, and a ‘Plan of Action for the realisation of the Agreement on Goodneighbourliness, Friendship and Cooperation Between the Russian Federation and the People’s Republic of China 2005–08’ was signed.24 The settlement of the border issue in autumn 2004, entailing concessions to China, may have emboldened Russia to decide against building a pipeline spur to Daqing later that year, calculating that relations were now strong enough to recover from mild setbacks. Significantly, there was no specific mention of the oil pipeline in the 2004 Joint Declaration. The 2005 summit hailed relations as having entered a new phase of development: in essence, now that the border issue had been settled once and for all, the time of ‘practical steps’ had arrived, the deepening and broadening of the relationship was the next challenge. In accordance with this new phase, discussions were to begin on the establishment of a consultation mechanism on security

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issues and preparations would begin for the conduct of joint military exercises in order to raise military preparedness so as to counter new challenges and threats.25 In the declaration it was emphasised that an outstanding feature of their relations was the broad and mutual support on key questions of state sovereignty, security and territorial integrity. By the following year, global security issues were deemed of sufficient importance that a new mechanism for dialogue on ‘international issues affecting the national security interests of both Russia and China’, was established at the level of the Russian Security Council and the Chinese State Committee. Reflecting Russia and China’s continued and growing concern at US predominance in global politics, and US criticism of Russian and Chinese internal politics, the Joint Declaration emphasised the need to adhere to universally accepted norms of international law and to recognise ‘the right of governments to defend state unity and national dignity’ and to choose their own path of development, to participate equally in international affairs and a recognition of the variations in cultures and civilisations in the world.26

Economics (economisation or securitisation?) In the last year of El’tsin’s incumbency, 1999, bilateral trade had reached a disappointing $5.7 billion; the turnover appeared spectacularly poor in view of the fact that El’tsin and Jiang had set themselves a target of $20 billion turnover by the year 2000. The low figures were no doubt in part attributable to the 1998 currency crisis, which had hit both East Asia and Russia hard. There had been a small revival in so-called ‘unofficial’ border trade in 1999, but this was attributed to the partial return to barter trade as a result of the currency crisis.27 The Putin–Jiang summit of 2000 thus made economics a priority area, and the Chinese stated that they would give preferential treatment to Russian imports, hoping for reciprocation from the Russian side. There were signs that energy projects would be given more attention too, and earlier that year the fuel and energy minister had visited Beijing to discuss building an oil pipeline from Angarsk (in Irkutsk) to China.28 (See Table 7.1.) In 2000, Sino-Russian trade increased by nearly 40 per cent, to around $8 billion, although lagging far behind the target of $20 billion set by El’tsin and Table 7.1 Russia–China trade, 2000–05 Year

Exports ($bn)

Imports ($bn)

Total ($bn)

2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005

5.77 7.96 8.41 9.73 12.13 15.89

2.23 2.71 3.52 6.03 9.10 13.21

8.00 10.67 11.93 15.76 21.23 29.10

Source: China Statistical Yearbook, various years.

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Jiang Zemin, and Russia still made up less than 10 per cent of China’s foreign trade. Chinese exports to Russia increased by 60 per cent; in the first half of 1999 border trade had witnessed a comeback with a 45 per cent increase over the same period in the previous year.29 Traditionally, barter trade accounted for a third of bilateral trade (even arms sales were often conducted on a barter basis: ‘submarines for frying-pans’, etc.). Thus, bilateral trade figures had begun declining in 1996 due to the conversion to hard currency trade. 2002 saw a record turnover of around $11 billion (based on Chinese figures), although still not reaching the $20 billion target El’tsin and Jiang Zemin had aimed for. 2003 was another good year, when bilateral trade reached nearly $16 billion (although compared for figures for Sino-US trade, which reached around $140 billion in the same year, dismally low). The Chinese remained dissatisfied with the imbalance in their trade with Russia, as the amount China can export to Russia is far outweighed by the amount that China imports. Putin stressed that the structure of economic cooperation needed to be improved. Russia would like China to take more manufactured goods and less raw materials; but China has little interest in Russian goods, and moved to restrict the import of some Russian products in 2002.30 A glance at the composition of Sino-Russian trade confirms the upward trend in the amount of raw materials exported to China, rising from around 10 per cent of all exports, to around 20 per cent in 2003, and in just the first seven months of 2004 reaching over 30 per cent.31 Russia is also much less keen on Chinese consumer goods, which are seen as inferior to their Japanese and South Korean counterparts. In his ‘Strategy for the Economic Development of Siberia and the Far East’, Putin proposed diversifying Siberia’s economy away from raw materials exports, but as Vilya Gelbras notes, this will be impossible while there is still a huge labour shortage and an underdeveloped manufacturing base.32 In relations with China, political relations tended to be the ‘locomotive’ of the relationship, as economic relations failed to live up to expectations. During Putin’s tenure, bilateral trade improved steadily, but the structure of trade has changed remarkably little, based mainly on export to China of raw materials and military hardware, and this is clearly not going to help the longterm development of the Russian Far East. Thus, Prime Minister Fradkov (who replaced Kasianov in Spring 2004), bemoaned the structure of Russian trade, noting that while the volume was increasing, it remained largely raw materials. He therefore requested an increase in the share of machinery in exports of up to 10 per cent.33 2004 was expected to be the year when Russia and China finally reached El’tsin and Jiang’s target of $20 billion bilateral trade turnover: according to Chinese trade figures, turnover was around $21 billion; Russian statistics, however, showed a turnover of just under $15 billion. In 2005 turnover reached an unprecedented $29 billion (based on Chinese figures; Russian figures showed $20.3), and in an apparent bid to outdo his predecessor Putin pledged to aim for $60 billion in the ‘next five or six years, and it seems to me completely realistic that we will eventually reach the $100 billion mark’.34 The final delimitation of the border and the ceding to China of 37 km2 of land increased

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hopes for an acceleration of the economic and trade relationship, but Russia remains ambivalent regarding border (or shuttle trade) and consistently excludes this trade from the bilateral trade statistics;35 oddly, however, Russian officials openly cite the higher Chinese statistics, which include the border trade. Even at the official level, it has been noted that mutual trust and understanding is lacking:36 of course, this does not in itself necessarily account for the low levels of trade, if we recall the burgeoning trade between the USA and China, or indeed Japan and China. However, Japan and the USA invest heavily in China, while Russia does not. Neither is China a significant investor as yet in Russia. In 2002 there were around 450 enterprises with Chinese capital in Russia, with capital of about $280 million, but Russian investment in China was also low, about $300 million.37 By the end of 2004, the volume of Chinese investment in Russia had reached only $700 million. This represents around 5 per cent of total Chinese foreign investment.38 There was continued dissatisfaction with the quality of Chinese goods and the amount of Chinese investment in Russia was paltry. In 2002 China criticised Russia for failing to import more civilian goods from China, while Russia complained again about the quality of the products. By now barter arrangements had been eliminated and there was a clamp-down on so-called ‘unorganised trade’. China’s membership of the WTO also began to bite as China demanded lower duties on Chinese goods imported into Russia as well as the right to erect trade barriers against Russian goods (this affected around 15 per cent of Russian exports to China).39 Moreover, Russian imports from China began to grow at a faster rate than Russian exports to China. In addition Russia’s share of trade in China’s foreign trade appeared to be declining, while China’s share in Russia’s foreign trade was on the increase.40 In line with the ‘economisation’ of Russian foreign policy, policymakers attempted to make a case that Sino-Russian economic relations deserved a better press, and exhorted the Russian media to help Russian public opinion and Russian business circles to move away from ‘old stereotypes’ regarding trade and economic cooperation with China (echoes of El’tsin). Deputy Foreign Minister Losiukov asserted that present-day realities were no longer imbued with politicoideological factors and that the main actors in joint economic cooperation were now commercial structures.41 At the 2007 summit in Moscow, Russian officials made the usual complaint regarding the structure of bilateral trade, hydrocarbons representing more than 54 per cent of exports. The Obzor vneshnei politiki (survey of Russian foreign policy) issued by the MID in February 2007, something akin to a programme of action for Russian diplomacy, noted that there was a pressing need to increase the practical results of the Sino-Russian relationship.42

Arms sales One of the most lucrative areas of bilateral economic cooperation to date has been Russia’s sales of weaponry to China, which have continued to rise under

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Putin. Putin had drawn attention to this area of relations even before becoming president, announcing that the defence industry and arms sales were to become a priority area of Russian economic policy.43 This has remained one of the central planks of Sino-Russian bilateral economic relations: the profit motive appears to outweigh any longer-term strategic considerations, although diplomats maintain that the government places strict limits on such cooperation, and takes into account the balance of power.44 Talk in 2005 by the EU of lifting the arms embargo on China was a serious cause for concern in Moscow, so the decision to keep it in place, at least for the moment, brought a sigh of relief. As before, arms sales consisted principally of fighter jets, but also submarines and surfaceto-air missiles, as well as technology produced under licence from Russia. Defence expenditure increased under Putin, not surprisingly, given the protracted war in Chechnia, but less of the budget was now devoted to R&D (5.3 per cent of GDP was devoted to defence and security in 200045); this placed in question the defence industry’s ability to remain competitive, in particular as China began to demand more sophisticated weaponry. As a detailed study of Russia’s arms trade has pointed out, much of the financing derived from exports ‘is lost in the state intermediaries and the state budget’, which would appear to give the lie to the notion that arms sales are an easy source of revenue.46 However, such was Putin’s optimism regarding the rejuvenation of the Military–Industrial Complex, that he claimed it could help Russia ‘out of all the problems the country is now facing’.47 In fact, initial arms sales were lower than projected, reaching only $3.68 billion, well below the figure of $4.3 billion that had been predicted at the start of 2000.48 Even by 2004, the total volume of Russia’s arms exports was only $5.7 billion. Of course certain defence enterprises are wholly reliant on arms sales to China, such as the aviation factory in Komsomolsk-na-Amure (in the Russian Far East), but this dependence is not necessarily a positive development; it limits restructuring of the economy, which is particularly crucial for the Russian Far East. Moreover, in view of the fact that the EU has at times hinted that it may reconsider its arms embargo on China, it would not be wise for Russia’s defence industry to become over-reliant on China for arms sales. As regards the technological level of weaponry sold to China, it is politic to bear in mind, when discussing Russia’s arms sales to China, that Moscow tends simultaneously to sell the same, or even more advanced technology to India. Thus, while Russia had, some years back, sold Beijing the licence to manufacture Su-27 fighter jets, it has licensed production to India of 140 Su-30s (the more advanced model). China received 50 Su-30s starting in 2002, but in 1999 India had already secured an agreement for production of the Su-30.49 While Russia has sold a total of eight Kilo-class submarines, it has sold nine to India (delivered to India already in 1998, while China was due to receive the full complement only in 2007). Some maintain that the Sovremenny destroyer sold to China is a design more than 20 years old, while the equivalent sold to India was equipped with stealth technology.50 It is as well to bear in mind that India too is Russia’s ‘strategic partner’, and together China and India account for by far the

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largest proportion of Russian arms sales. China appeared to be growing frustrated with Russia’s tactics, and demanded that it be allowed to purchase production technologies, rather than only the equipment. One report claimed that China was now producing all its ground-forces equipment independently and was commencing work on building its own destroyers. This led some in Russia to advocate the sale to China of higher-calibre weapons: thus the director of the Strategy and Technology Analysis Centre believed that Russia should now think about selling China Su-30 fighters but with ‘new avionics and new armaments . . .’ as well as lifting the restrictions on supplying China with multipurpose ships, a view endorsed by Aleksei Arbatov who stressed that it was pointless to refrain from supplying the latest technology to China, as this would simply mean the end of the defence industry, which he described as the only remaining ‘effective element of national security’ in Russia.51 There has been constant speculation as to whether Russia is helping to build China’s naval capacity: one leading analyst of Chinese naval affairs notes that between 2003–05, most of the technology for low-noise diesel-electric engines for submarines had been mastered. A Russian design bureau apparently helped to build a strategic nuclear submarine, which would enter service in 2004–05. This sub could carry up to 12 nuclear warheads, and such submarines would likely be used in a conflict involving China, Taiwan and the USA. According to one analyst, by 2008 the PLAN could have four nuclear attack subs and one or two strategic ones.52 In 2005 four Sovremenny-class destroyers were delivered, which had been ordered in 2002; eight Kilo-class submarines also ordered in 2002 were due to be delivered in 2007: however, these subs are classed as tactical, not strategic, and the PLAN has only one strategic SSBN.53 Therefore, China’s capabilities may still only be building up incrementally, and as Bates Gill says, ‘China’s regional neighbours should expect its military capability to advance, but only steadily so, and with setbacks and problems along the way.’ Gill also emphasises that China’s focus is quite narrow, at least for now, specifically the perceived threat of continued Taiwanese independence; military adventures in the wider region, for example in the South China Seas, in the East China Sea around the Senkaku islands, or the Korean Peninsula would be more difficult to contemplate for China’s fledgling naval forces.54 Both Defence Minister Sergei Ivanov, and Foreign Minister Igor Ivanov, dismissed the idea that China posed a threat to Russia, or indeed could pose a threat in even a decade. But whereas under El’tsin military officials frequently described China as a potential military threat, first deputy chief of Staff, Iurii Baluevskii, warned in late 2002 that if Russia changed its present China policy then it might face a neighbour with both quantitative and qualitative potential. He concluded, therefore, that the best course of action was ‘to have a good neighbour, true friend, and strategic partner, and never an enemy’.55 Military exercises were held in August 2005, ‘Peace Mission 2005’, which were hailed as further evidence of growing trust: some suggested that the role of the exercises was to send a signal to the USA that it should stay out of any future conflict between China and Taiwan, although others suggested that the exercises were

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designed to send a different message: that the two countries were emphatically not building an alliance, i.e. that the relationship is entirely ‘normal’.56 Unsurprisingly, diplomatic sources suggested that they were merely part and parcel of normal and developed relations. The first part of the exercise was carried out mainly in the RFE military district, while the second part was based on the Chinese Shandong Peninsula and the Yellow Sea. Some Russian analysts attempted to link the exercise to China’s need for Siberian natural resources, although admitting that before dealing with either Russia or Kazakhstan, China would probably ‘test its strength’ on Taiwan.57 The location of the exercises was depicted as a bone of contention by the Russian media: some claimed that Russia had initially suggested the Xinjiang Uighur autonomous region, but the Chinese were reluctant (they had suggested Primorskii krai), and wanted to hold it in Zhejiang Province near Taiwan, but the Russians felt this was too provocative.58 Taiwanese analysts noted that the location was immaterial as if they were held on a coast involving naval forces ‘they will be seen on the island as an unambiguous rehearsal for an invasion of Taiwan’.59 The scenario’s main premise was that a hypothetical state in Shandong was experiencing internal ethnic conflict and had requested help from neighbouring states and the UN, so notionally Russia and China were acting under a UN mandate and this was a classical peacekeeping mission where the aim was to separate opposing sides. The enemy in this case apparently consisted of ‘terrorists, separatists and extremists’ who were manning a submarine.60 Taiwan expressed concern as did the USA and Japan. Some were sceptical regarding the peacekeeping part of the exercise, suggesting that, ‘the deployment of missile destroyers, submarines, strategic bombers and AWACS is not appropriate for action against irregular groups of rebels, the typical actors involved in ethnic conflicts’.61 It may be, given the vast display of weaponry, that Russia was simply ‘laying out its wares’ for China, which would be commensurate with the notion that Russia is keen to sell the very latest technology to its eastern neighbour to ensure it maintains its competitive edge. In fact, by 2007 China’s weapons orders from Russia will have been more or less completed. Nevertheless, the head of the Russian Federation Military–Technical Service claimed that maintenance and repair of weapons and military materiel would in the long run become more important to Russian companies, as a series of service centres were due to be established in China and Vietnam, amongst others.62 The disadvantages of this approach is that China’s rising power could mean that it is only a matter of time before it takes Taiwan by force, and given the continued preponderance of US power, Russia may not wish to be seen as encouraging Chinese military adventurism; indeed, Dmitrii Trenin suggests that in 10–15 years’ time this could annoy the United States as much as Russian cooperation with Iran. As Trenin advises, although it may seem strange now, ‘the best strategy possible would be promoting friendly relations between the United States and China’.63

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Energy: a new dimension? Whether or not Russia’s arms sales to China have the potential to upset its relations with the USA, a new dimension of security served to highlight the ‘economisation’ of Russian foreign policy, and here too tensions have arisen, particularly in relations with the EU. According to Russia’s new energy strategy, the APR’s share of Russian oil exports is set to increase from 3 to 30 per cent by 2020.64 Energy issues are of course more than just a matter of economics, and military analysts like to emphasise the geopolitical angle in the battle for energy resources: thus a report by Admiral Kravchenko, chief of the Navy Main Staff, warned that future conflicts would be precipitated by a US struggle for energy resources.65 Others point to Chinese energy needs as a possible source of friction, and even conflict: thus, the head of the analytical department of the Institute of Political and Military Analysis sees establishment of Chinese control over Siberian natural resources as an imperative of Chinese policy, although he admits that before ‘dealing with Russia or Kazakhstan, China will probably test its strength on Taiwan’.66 From the Chinese point of view, Beijing certainly wishes to reduce its dependence on international markets for oil, which means that neighbouring countries, particularly Russia and Central Asia, are seen as less risky options: overland routes eliminate the need for protection of the USA in the sea lanes of the Asia-Pacific.67 On the other hand, extracting oil from Russia is costly, compared to oil from the Middle East or Africa. China’s oil needs thus represent both a potential area for cooperation but also a potential source of conflict: there are fears that this quest for oil could be a destabilising factor in the wider APR, especially given China’s territorial disputes with several states in the region: the obvious area is the Spratly islands in the South China Seas. China’s dependence on oil imports will continue to grow, although much of its economy is still based on coal, so domestic resources can supply much of what it needs.68 Since 9/11, and in particular since 2003, China, similarly to Japan, would like to decrease its reliance on the Middle East for oil, so new markets in Central Asia and Russia are attractive. The problem of Islamic fundamentalism may make Central Asia less of an attraction for China, however, and the fear that the USA may try to block China’s access to oil from here and the Middle East (particularly in case of a Sino-American conflict over Taiwan), means that many in China advocate overland pipeline routes. Russian ambivalence and procrastination regarding construction of a pipeline to the Chinese Pacific coast has therefore been particularly irksome. The construction of a pipeline from Angarsk in Eastern Siberia, to Daqing in China, was also, according to some, part and parcel of President Hu’s domestic agenda in terms of his plans for the redevelopment of Northeastern China.69 This was not the first time the Chinese had been let down by Russia in the energy sphere: shortly after the December 2002 Summit in Beijing, the Chinese were stung by the Russian Duma’s refusal to allow the China National Petroleum Corporation to take over the Russian oil company Slavneft (the seventh largest in Russia). Nevertheless, the Russian side was careful to maintain

Map 7.1 Eastern Siberia–Pacific Ocean Pipeline.

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deliveries of oil to China, despite the collapse of erstwhile supplier Yukos: in 2005, 5.18 million tonnes of oil was delivered to China by rail – 4.4 million by Rosneft, the remainder by Lukoil – and it was hoped that up to 15 million tonnes of oil could be shipped during 2006.70 In fact delivery by rail, while costly and inefficient, helps to keep afloat parts of the steel and railcar industries. As Gaddy and Ickes point out, in the classic syndrome of ‘Dutch disease’, manufacturing is squeezed out by the resource industries. However, ‘when excess costs are an important form of rent sharing, as in Russia, manufacturing industries may benefit, rather than suffer, from the existence of a large resource sector’.71 The authors make the important point, however, that while manufacturing may not be affected, tradable goods industries will be,72 which is clearly a dangerous trend in the longer term. This may be a further reason why Moscow is in no hurry to confirm final pipeline routes. Moscow prevaricated on the actual route of any proposed pipeline and refused to say anything specific, although in 2007 the second phase of the construction plan was announced (see Map 7.1). By 2006, however, the official view was that eventually the pipeline would reach China. Environmental issues have become increasingly prominent on the domestic agenda, and this clearly has implications for pipeline construction, although cynics suggested these were being used to ‘stall’ for time. Thus at a conference in 2003, the Russian Deputy Natural Resources Minister told ecologists that his ministry would probably reject the proposed oil pipeline from Angarsk to Daqing; it was not in favour of the alternative route (to Nakhodka) either. In the end, the route of the pipeline, which was due to pass very close to Lake Baikal, is to be diverted in order to run 350–400 km away from the lake.73 It appeared likely that any pipeline would have to stop at Skovorodino and the rest of the oil would then be shipped by rail to either China or Japan.74 It was also around this time that the merger of Yukos and Sibneft had been under scrutiny by the Ministry of Natural Resources. Many saw the probe of Yukos as the result of pressure from Rosneft and Gazprom (both state-owned) who were opposed to the Daqing pipeline and had their own plans for energy projects in Eastern Siberia, or supported the more expensive pipeline option to Nakhodka (Prime Minister Kasianov, who supported the Yukos/Sibneft route, was later sacked). One of the criminal cases instigated against Yukos was in fact by Rosneft, which alleged that Yukos had misappropriated its stake in Yeniseineftegaz. After the collapse of Yukos, Rosneft stepped in to take over the remnants, and the China National Petroleum Corporation (CNPC) now owns shares in Rosneft. Transneft (the state-owned monopoly which controls the pipelines) believed the Nakhodka route would be a more pragmatic and flexible option as it would mean being able to reach a wider range of end users; Moscow appeared to be holding out for both options, although the likelihood of obtaining financing for both projects simultaneously was unlikely.75 A pipeline would obviously bind the two countries very closely together, so any upset in relations would have a direct impact on energy supplies. The hesitation over Chinese involvement appeared to be connected in part to Russian fears of overreliance on one partner, and officials in

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Moscow76 now appeared to take the view that the pipeline could, if necessary, be built all the way to Nakhodka by Russian companies alone.77 Later, it was decided that rather than use the existing port facilities at Nakhodka, a new terminal would be constructed at Perevoznaya Bay, although there is also concern from environmental groups regarding this, as Perevoznaya is home to a nature reserve, where the last of the world’s Amur leopards live.78 There appeared to be insufficient funds in general to develop existing oil reserves, according to the Minister for Natural Resources, Iurii Trutnev. The government’s antipathy to privately funded pipelines in its struggle with the oligarchs ruled out the participation of the private sector. The option that was later mooted, of a spur to Daqing, was rejected by Japan, and under the Chinese plan Russia would have had to fund part of the pipeline itself. Some have argued that the vacillation on the pipeline issue could be damaging in the longer term: for example, one Chinese analyst suggested that Russia’s rejection of the Chinese route may eventually impact on the volume of Chinese military equipment purchased from Russia, which would have a detrimental effect on the Russian MIC.79

Russian Far East In the Russian Far East, local politics fed into the debate over proposed pipeline routes: turf battles between governors and other regional politicians became intertwined with geopolitical, geoeconomic and geostrategic issues at the centre. Thus Nazdratenko’s successor as governor of Primorskii krai, Sergei Darkin, faced accusations of corruption and conflicting business interests (he is believed to favour the pipeline route to Nakhodka, sponsored by Transneft). As under El’tsin, officials prefer not to depend on China for regional trade: Konstantin Pulikovskii, the former presidential representative for the Russian Far East, professed himself ‘disturbed’ by the increasing influence of Chinese citizens on domestic politics: ‘facing us across the Amur River is the vastness of China – 1.25 billion people. And that billion people gaze longingly at a fertile, rich and good land’80 – but he also criticised the governor of Amur, Igor’ Belonogov, for not making better use of the border regions. The tension between the need to open up the region and the fear of ‘losing’ the region to foreigners, particularly Chinese, continues to hamper policy initiatives. In the border area, as under El’tsin, the fate of the RFE is still depicted in somewhat paranoid terms: thus, passing through the RFE en route to the AsiaPacific, Putin described the situation in the RFE as being on a knife-edge: ‘If we do not make real efforts in the near future to develop the Far East, then in a few decades the Russian population will mainly be speaking Japanese, Chinese and Korean.’81 One might regard this statement as a diplomatic blunder, as it came after trips to China and Korea, and just before a trip to Japan. However, if seen as for domestic consumption, then it is more understandable: anti-Chinese (but also anti-Korean) sentiment had reached a peak at this time, and while these countries were hardly to blame for the problems of the region, hard economic

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conditions are fertile ground for xenophobia. By 2001 news reports began to speak of wholesale ‘criminal penetration’ of the RFE and there were even calls for a security fence to be erected.82 The Putin administration, as in the Gorbachev and the El’tsin periods, announced a long-term development plan for the RFE, but as was the case then, little was done to implement this.83

The border Although many saw the legal delimitation of the border and the supplementary agreement which ceded land to China, as a strategic loss (in particular residents of the Far East), others saw it as putting some of Russia’s geopolitical ghosts to rest: if China no longer had any territorial claims on Russia, at least one area of tension in the relationship will have been removed. At the end of 1999 Russia and China signed basic documents on their border: Damanskii island went to China, but the agreement put to one side the islands of Bolshoi Ussuriisk and Tarabarov, as well as Bolshoi island in the Argun river. If Russia had continued to apply the thalweg principle, then China would have received the first two islands. One article maintained that China had been piling up sand on its side of the river in order to fill in the channel separating the two countries.84 Viktor Ishaev, governor of Khabarovsk krai, and hitherto very critical of the border treaty, now argued that in fact Russia would still have access to key areas, such as the airport, and residents would still be able to use their dachas, claiming that in any case, only the section which was unusable due to regular flooding would be lost.85 Nevertheless, this was not enough to allay the fears of many residents of the region, and deputies in Khabarovsk proposed drafting an appeal to the State Dum and Federation Council, urging them not to ratify the border treaty.86 This was all in line with the 2001 ‘framework treaty’ whereby Russia and China stated that they had no territorial claims against each other and declared their intention to ‘transform the border between them into a border of perpetual peace and friendship, passed on from generation to generation’.87 In 2002 China had unilaterally withdrawn its regular forces 500 km from the border area (exceeding the 100 km requirement established by the official agreement). However, despite the unprecedentedly calm situation around the border, the issue of Chinese migration is still portrayed in negative terms. Indeed in the Foreign Policy Concept published in 2000, ‘uncontrolled migration’ had been singled out as a security threat.88 Putin maintained that ‘Russian citizens have almost been ousted from labour markets due to migration in the Far East’, and Prime Minister Kasianov warned China to observe Russian immigration laws. The region still depends on the armed forces and the navy for employment, and jobs in other sectors require low-skilled or manual labour only; Russians are reluctant to take on these jobs, as is indeed the case in many developed countries. Hard data from official statistical sources on numbers of migrants is difficult to come by: in 2002 the Interior Ministry gave a figure of two million for the whole of Russia, while the head of the Federal Migration Service denied that

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Chinese migration posed any kind of problem. It is clear, however, that the situation needs to be addressed and migration needs to be regularised in some fashion. Proposals from some locals that a security fence should be erected along the border to keep out migrant workers were also ruled out.89 Putin believed the problem should be tackled by allowing regional authorities to establish quotas on imported labour, although this ignored the fact that the illegal labour was necessary, due to the dire shortage of local labour. Pulikovskii did attempt to change the perception of the Chinese in the region, and asked the governors to contribute to the development of a law on migration.90 However, politicians’ statements are highly dependent on the target audience: thus in April 2001, Pulikovskii declared himself ‘disturbed’ by the increasing influence of Chinese citizens on the domestic political situation in the RFE91 (but this was at the time of elections in Amur oblast, so we should treat the statement accordingly). In 2004 a protocol was signed on measures to combat crime, and the main issue discussed was illegal migration in the Russian Far East: it is claimed that up to 350,000 Chinese cross the border on a tourist visa annually into Primorskii and Khabarovskii krais. These illegal migrants apparently conduct legal and illegal enterprise: they deal in drugs, buy precious metals, and engage in acts of piracy. In Vladivostok the Chinese have their own club and they are accused of dealing in drugs: among those arrested were the prosecutor of a Chinese province and a town mayor. Every year hundreds of girls are sent to China to work as prostitutes.92 Until now, according to the Russian media, China has refused to acknowledge the existence of these facts. (The MID tends to see these phenomena as invented by the media to whip up hysteria in the RFE.) It is a sign of the maturity of the relationship, however, that these issues can be aired more openly and in 2003 Putin and the new Chinese President Hu Jintao announced the establishment of a working group to curb illegal migration to Russia.93 In January 2007, a new law came into effect, which set quotas for the number of non-Russians working in markets and bazaars and is bound to affect further the volume of bilateral trade.94 Indeed, it was reported that the bustling markets of Ussuriisk, hitherto teaming with Chinese, were now almost empty – clearly, Russians were not keen to fill the shoes of the migrant stallholders.95 Despite the final demarcation of the joint border in late 2004, unresolved issues remained: environmental issues were coming to the fore as a potential source of tension in the longer term. Russia has voiced environmental concerns and complained that for many years the Chinese had failed to respond to Russian proposals for an Intergovernmental Agreement on cooperation in areas of protection and responsible use of cross-border waters. The Russian side also expressed concern regarding fish stocks in the Amur and Ussuri rivers. Concrete measures to combat the problem had apparently been devised by Russian experts; however, these did not initially find favour with the Chinese. Russia is concerned by large-scale piracy, not only in Chinese, but also in Russian waters, as well as the use by fishermen of dynamite and various chemicals.96 Environ-

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mental issues are a relatively new area of concern, and have not featured prominently in Russian foreign policy until now; the Chinese are notoriously reticent about approaching this issue, although they are beginning to acknowledge the gravity of these problems in China itself. Official sources in Russia do consider the problem on the border to be a serious one, and claim that in the Amur river the water resources are sometimes so polluted by the time they reach the Russian side as to render them unusable. However, once again the settlement of the border issue has made negotiations easier, and China eventually agreed to discussions, in principle.97 A new Sino-Russian commission on the environment was established in 2006 – and one may speculate that this initiative was accelerated by the environmental disaster near Khabarovsk in winter 2005–06. An oil spill on the Chinese side of the border near Khabarovsk tested relations in December 2005: on the other hand, it also meant that the two sides were obliged to cooperate in order to tackle the crisis. As a result of the crisis, fishing was banned indefinitely, leading to further social problems in an already deprived region. Despite Russia’s criticisms of the Chinese for their ‘neglect’, according to Greenpeace Russia, China was more proactive in this particular crisis, having already proposed a draft plan aimed at tackling the ecological situation in the Amur river, while the Russians had produced nothing; it was also claimed that the Chinese had more specialists capable of carrying out appropriate monitoring of pollution levels.98 Environmental campaigners, including Greenpeace, used the disaster to highlight what they described as ongoing problems and the authorities’ long-term neglect of pollution in the Amur river. The WWF programme coordinator in Amur claimed that the regional authorities had done all they could to monitor pollution levels, but that they had little support from the central authorities; furthermore, there was no ‘functioning federal body’ in Russia designed to tackle environmental problems, and that there were no bodies capable of implementing international environmental policies. Greenpeace Russia concluded that the Russian Far East was in danger of becoming an ‘unprotected resource-rich annex of [the] growing economy of Northeast China’.99 In summer 2006, there was a further chemical leak, this time into the Sungari river, a tributary of the Amur, raising concerns about Beijing’s engagement with environmental issues. A positive step was the signing of a SinoRussian protocol on bilateral environmental cooperation which will mean greater protection of trans-border rivers. The protocol has provision for compensation if damage has occurred.100 There is no joint Russian–Chinese monitoring system in place as yet. The ports on both the Chinese and Russian sides are busy, but the lower reaches of the Amur river are very shallow and in 2001 a severe drought made navigation in the main channel of the Amur almost impossible, affecting shipping links between the main river ports and the sea. As one study points out, in future struggles over water resources could increase and if not addressed could threaten trade growth.101

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Russia, China and Central Asia: battling the ‘three evils . . .’ Since 9/11 there has been an element of ‘we told you so . . .’ among foreign policy circles in the Russian Federation and China. Russia in Chechnia, and China in Xinjiang see the containment of Islamic separatism as something they have been struggling with for years, with little help or understanding from the West. For example, the Russian academic Aleksandr Lukin claims that the SCO countries: had realised the dangers of international terrorism long before the events of 11 September 2001 (the first time these issues were raised was at the fourth summit of the ‘five’ in Bishkek in August 1999, when the USA, with Pakistan’s help, still financed the Taleban).102 After 9/11 the five-way confidence-building talks (the Shanghai Five) evolved into the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation. The agenda of the SCO has moved on from border security to a broader one focused on the so-called ‘three evils’, separatism, fundamentalism and terrorism. However, this evolution had already been under way even before 9/11, and the start of the second Chechen War in 1999 gave Putin the opportunity to put the anti-terrorism issue at the top of the agenda in Russia’s relations with Central Asia, making it a ‘platform for the development of military and security cooperation’.103 Both China and Russia regularly use meetings of the SCO to voice their concerns about the rise in separatist and terrorist activity in the region, always placing these in the context of broader misgivings regarding the growing practice of humanitarian intervention and the change in notions of sovereignty that has ensued. From the Chinese point of view, a very clear link exists between the Islamic fundamentalism that was based in and nurtured in Afghanistan, i.e. the Taleban and al-Qaeda, and the aspirations of Xinjiang separatists and indeed Islamists in parts of former Soviet Central Asia, e.g. Uzbekistan, and even Chechnia. As one Chinese academic puts it: ‘[T]he “Taleban” and other fundamentalist organisations supported actions on Chinese territory by the separatists of “Eastern Turkestan”, the armed formations of Chechen separatists in Russia and the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan’.104

Separatism, fundamentalism and terrorism: ‘the three evils’ The first meeting of the Shanghai Five Defence Ministers was held in Astana in March 2000, Putin was still acting president, China and Russia were still reeling from the shock of Kosovo, and Russia was fully engaged militarily in Chechnia. Chi Haotian, China’s Defence Minister, pledged that together China and Russia would crack down on terrorist, national separatist and religious extremist forces to safeguard regional security and stability.105 This assertion of common values and a joint agenda could be seen as taking on greater importance in the wake of Kosovo and Chechnia. During a meeting of the Russian and Chinese Foreign Ministers in February the same year, it was stressed that both sides resolutely reject ‘such arguments as “human rights being higher than sovereignty” and

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“humanitarian intervention” ’, and maintained that the right of a people to choose their own social system and path to development should be respected.106 Against such a background, it was not clear how to respond to the events of 9/11, which involved attacks on a sovereign state by non-state actors acting apparently independently of any state control. China and Russia responded by reemphasising the links between what they termed separatist activity carried out by extremists in Xinjiang and Chechnia, and the wider War on Terror. The Joint Russo-Chinese Declaration of December 2002 asserted that ‘the terrorists and separatists in Chechnia and East Turkestan (i.e. Xinjiang) represent an integral part of international terrorism. They must be brought to justice . . . the two sides will be strengthening their mutual support in the struggle with terrorism.’107 There was, however, no coordinated response from the SCO’s anti-terrorist centre (established in Bishkek in 2000, but later moved to Tashkent in 2003), to the events of 9/11. Neither was there coordination at the elite level between Russia and China on how to react to 9/11, exposing the declarative nature of their relations. In fact, both appeared initially to welcome Washington’s stance as it might help curb terrorist activity in Russia and China. China had initially stated publicly that it was unconcerned by the presence of NATO forces in Central Asia in connection with the anti-terrorist campaign in Afghanistan. Russia too stated that neither Russia nor China were ‘pleased’ about the US military presence in Central Asia. This is a new and very serious element in the configuration of forces in the region . . . we were interested in the American response to the Taleban. . . . We do not see the Americans as the enemy, but as a partner in this war. . . .108 A peaceful and stable Central Asia is of course desirable for both Russia and China, and the American military action in Afghanistan in late 2001 appeared to address many of these pre-existing concerns, despite Russian and Chinese unease. At the same time, the future of Chinese influence in the region, let alone Russian, was placed in doubt after the stationing of US troops in Central Asian states. Jiang Zemin later made it clear that he opposed this deployment on a trip to Iran in April 2002. After 9/11 there appeared to be signs that the USA was acknowledging China’s claims regarding the Uighur terrorist threat in Xinjiang, so that in Summer 2002 Washington added the East Turkestan Islamic Movement to the list of terrorist organisations, although as one analyst has pointed out many regard this organisation as defunct and see a decrease, rather than an increase in political ferment in Xinjiang.109 Analysts bemoaned the fact that Russia has allowed hopes of a long-term partnership with the USA to open the door to US bases in Central Asia. However, it was not entirely clear what Putin’s strategy was in doing so: as Alex Pravda puts it, after 9/11, ‘Putin made a choice of strategic significance but did not develop a strategy to match’.110 Others have argued that US policy in Central Asia ‘invites balancing behaviour’.111 However, although this might be the case, none of the structures sponsored by either Russia or China in the region are capable of balancing US power in any meaningful sense. The region itself is too heterogeneous in political and cultural terms, and the Central Asian states do

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not pursue an integrationist agenda, preferring either bilateral relationships or loose multilateral structures such as the SCO.112 Despite the slowness to react, in one sense 9/11 gave a fillip to the SCO, enabling the fusing of the three ‘evils’, separatism, fundamentalism and terrorism into a single objective. The fact that US concerns over human rights, for example in Chechnia, appeared to take a backseat after 9/11, seemed to marry well with Russian and Chinese frustration at what they saw as the EU’s overemphasis on the issue. Ironically, with regard to Uzbekistan, which had initially been lukewarm regarding the SCO (it was admitted as a member in June 2001), the USA had long been turning a ‘blind eye’ to Uzbekistan’s human rights record as an ally in the campaign against the Taleban (similarly to Pakistan). However, since the action against the Taleban in Afghanistan and the invasion of Iraq, the alliance with Uzbekistan had proven less useful to the USA, and the corruption and authoritarian nature of Karimov’s regime increased; moreover, the events in Andijan made it more difficult for the USA to countenance an alliance with a regime that so blatantly abuses its own citizens. The rhetoric of human rights and democracy that has been the clarion call of the US administration since the intervention in Iraq, sits uneasily with a conciliatory tone towards authoritarian regimes. Uzbekistan now assumed a far more positive stance regarding the role of the SCO in regional security.

Chinese views of the SCO China’s participation in the SCO is unusual in that it normally prefers bilateral relationships, finding multilateral forums too unwieldy and difficult to control. As one Russian commentator notes: Beijing distinguishes between those organisations where it has an active, but not a leading role, e.g. the ARF and ASEM, and those where it can play the leading, or at least one of the leading roles: the SCO; the six-party talks on Korea, although it does not actively voice this ambition.113 In many ways Russia and China are potential competitors: in Central Asia; and for the attention of the USA. The attitudes of China and Russia towards the US presence in Central Asia are similar: as one Chinese author notes, although they do not plan to build an alliance there, they view the long-term military presence of the United States in the region as a ‘potential geopolitical threat’.114 The overriding question is whether the SCO will increase in importance now that, to all intents and purposes, the CIS as an integrationist project is more dead than alive. For China the ‘Shanghai spirit’ is a clear manifestation for Chinese policymakers of the new cooperative security, and the Chinese describe it as ‘a spirit characterized by mutual trust, mutual benefit, equality, cooperation, respect for diversified (sic) civilizations and common development’. The transformation of the SCO from talks on confidence-building and border demarcation into a multilateral regional grouping was apparently a Chinese initiative. As Chung points out, it was China that suggested creating an ‘anti-terrorism centre’ in Bishkek

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after 9/11, on the recommendation of Premier Zhu Rongji.115 China’s concept of regionalism is one that ‘seeks to group together countries with different political systems and cultural and religious traditions chiefly for the purpose of promoting the interaction of global trade and capital in that region’.116 The SCO is primarily a means whereby China can promote a classical conception of sovereignty in its Westphalian sense, thus ‘China today perceives itself, and wants others to perceive it, as both a defender of state sovereignty and a respected big power in the community of nations’.117 There followed pledges from Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan to help curb secessionist activity in each other’s territory and in particular, not to assist Muslim independence movements in Chechnia and Xinjiang. The impetus is economic, but the strategic goal is a political one: in China’s border trade policy, stability in border areas is given high priority. Economic development and well-being is directly linked to the need to keep separatist movements under control. Xinjiang is responsible for 80 per cent of all China’s trade with Kazakhstan, and this is a direct result of China’s border trade policy: ‘the idea is that this will help to create prosperity and stability in the border regions, while also reducing the disparities that currently exist between different areas of China.’118 Putin described the June 2002 SCO summit, which institutionalised the organisation, as signalling a ‘qualitative change in cooperation’.119 Later that year, in October 2002, units from the Xinjiang military district and Kyrgyzstan conducted a two-day joint military exercise involving several hundred troops and dozens of armoured personnel carriers and helicopters in cross-border terrorist activities. China also participated in the first SCO anti-terrorism military exercise at the border between Kazakstan and China in August 2003.120 This involved militia troops and some air force units from China, Russia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan.121 This conduct of military exercises is a significant change in Chinese foreign military relations and is part and parcel of China’s bid to be ‘recognized as a major military power’, according to one defence analyst.122 The success of these exercises has led to further similar manoeuvres, indeed they were expanded to include more SCO members. The Central Asian states themselves tend to maintain a balance between their relations with the West on the one hand, and on the other, with Russia and China. Former Kyrgyz state secretary, I. Abdurasakov, said that he saw the SCO as just one of four regional security instruments, alongside the anti-terrorist coalition in Afghanistan, the CIS Collective Security Treaty and the PFP.123 On the security front, there were signs that both Russia and China wished to see a more robust role for the SCO. The increase in terrorist activity in Central Asia, and the resurgence of the Taleban, make this more pressing. Uzbekistan appears to be back in the fold at least for now, since Russia and China showed their support for Karimov’s regime, despite the brutal crackdown in Andijan. As well as signing several agreements with Beijing, mainly on economic cooperation, Karimov agreed to hold military exercises with Russia in Summer 2005. Tashkent appeared, for the time being at least to have decided that cooperation with Russia and China was in its interests, and Karimov duly requested that the US troops leave Uzbekistan. Both Russia and China have made it clear that they are no longer happy to see US forces using bases in Central Asia for their operations in

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Afghanistan, and President Hu’s speech to the SCO summit in July 2005 emphasised that the people of Central Asia were entitled to choose their own path to development. Further, Hu noted that while SCO states would continue to support the coalition’s operations in Afghanistan, as large-scale military operations had basically ended, it was necessary to set a deadline for the temporary use of SCO member-states’ infrastructure and their military presence there.124 However, in summer 2006, some Central Asian states realised that they could turn the situation to their advantage: for example, Kyrgyzstan signed a new agreement with the USA on far better financial terms than hitherto.125 At the summer 2005 SCO summit the decision was taken to accept India, Pakistan and Iran as observers. Some feared this meant ‘importing’ conflicts such as the Indo-Pakistani standoff over Kashmir, but others claimed that new members India and Pakistan might find it easier to talk to each other through an intermediary organisation, and that furthermore, the influence of China within the SCO could eventually be diluted.126 There was around this time too the resurgence of the notion that had circulated in 2000, supported by Primakov, that Russia, China and India should build an axis to counterbalance the excessive power of the USA.127 (Previously endorsed only by the extreme nationalist, Zhirinovskii.128) It should be noted that the USA has begun to develop a cooperative, and even strategic relationship with India, including allowing it special prerogatives to import nuclear materiel, potentially in violation of the NPT.129 The Foreign Ministers of Russia, China and India held a special meeting in Vladivostok in June 2005; the Sino-Russian Joint Declaration of 2006 highlighted the economic importance of the trilateral relationship, while another trilateral meeting in February 2007 again placed the main emphasis on economic factors.130 Indeed, India has signalled its interest in remnants of Yukos, and along with China, has bought substantial amounts of shares in Rosneft. There has even been talk of an energy corridor through Xinjiang, Tibet and Ladakh, although this seems unfeasible given the political ramifications. In the longer term, India is also interested in importing Iranian LNG,131 so the SCO may turn out to be a useful forum for discussing these sorts of energy projects, while the emphasis on stability in the form of territorial integrity and traditional forms of sovereignty are congenial to both China and India. Both Russia and China have made attempts to try to ‘join up’ Central Asia and the Asia-Pacific – in Russia the tendency is to speak of Northeast Asia, meaning land-locked Central Asia, as well as Asia-Pacific. China would probably like to tie in the SCO to existing structures in the Asia-Pacific region, such as ASEAN and APEC, while Russia would probably prefer to link it to CIS economic and security structures. Horizontal ties have by now been established with ASEAN, and the SCO has also gained observer status in the UN General Assembly. Clearly, both states have legitimate interests in the region, but they may yet clash over their foreign policy priorities here: Russia has long controlled the energy infrastructure, but China’s new energy strategy may bring changes in the longer term. For example, Turkmenistan has signed a contract with China to build a gas pipeline via Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan, to Urumqi in western China and onwards to Shanghai. Some have cast doubt on the feasibility

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of such a project, claiming that Turkmenistan’s gas industry is collapsing due to the poor investment climate. As Russia uses gas from Central Asia to source gas for other clients, and in particular from Turkmenistan, this supply source could be threatened by the Sino-Turkmen deal which is due to be built by January 2009.132 The increasing importance of Central Asia in the energy sector means these countries are high on the foreign policy agendas of not only Russia and China, but also the United States and potentially even Japan. China and Russia need a stable political and security environment in order to pursue these agendas here; the addition of the United States as a player has complicated the strategic environment. Both Russia and China initially saw the United States as a stabilising factor: by eliminating the Taleban, a major security concern for Russia in particular, was removed. However, the continuing presence of the coalition in Afghanistan, and the return of the Taleban, as well as the presence of US troops so close to the Chinese border, is a source of potential tension. All three governments are allies in the War on Terror, but the additional goals of democratisation and regime change are unpalatable to Russia and China: the US support for the coloured revolutions in Georgia and Ukraine, and their opposing views on Karimov’s policies in Uzbekistan make the regional situation a precarious balancing act. In Central Asia, the divergence in values between the USA on the one hand, and Russia and China on the other are perhaps more clearly on display than in any other region. In this situation, the Central Asian states themselves attempt to extract as much as they can from the different players without leaning too much in one direction. China and Russia’s overriding emphasis on stability in Central Asia may in the long term be detrimental: propping up corrupt and authoritarian rulers such as Karimov and Niyazov could lead to more internal political strife and dissent, increasing the likelihood of regional insecurity in the longer term. The irony is that, despite Russia and China’s reservations, the US presence may help to maintain a balance of power: if the USA were to leave Central Asia, conflicts of interests between China and Russia might come to the fore. In a sense then, one could see the USA as playing the role of ‘ringholder’ similar to its role in the Asia-Pacific.

Asia-Pacific: beyond the belt of good-neighbourliness Much has been made of the growing trend towards interconnectedness and interdependence, particularly in the economic realm, which has the potential to unlock frozen conflicts and transform regional relations. As threats to security appear to cross national boundaries, this is seen as an opportunity for closer cooperation and ‘convergence’. However, as regards the APR, it is too early to be completely optimistic: there remain several unresolved territorial disputes; the two leading economic powers, China and Japan, are at loggerheads, and the long-term ambitions of both are an unknown quantity. Moreover, the levels of distrust between these and other regional powers still harbour the potential for conflict, let alone the suspicion with which China’s possible intentions towards

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Taiwan are viewed. Russia has tried to make diplomatic capital out of the Korean problem, but it also has an interest in ensuring that the issue does not get out of hand, i.e. that the USA does not launch either a pre-emptive strike against the DPRK regime or a retaliatory strike after a DPRK detonation of a nuclear device. Thus, Russia lobbied in the UNSC to keep Korea off the agenda, and ensure that it is dealt with in the framework of the six-party talks, established after the breakdown of the Geneva Agreement (or ‘Agreed Framework’) in late 2002, after North Korea’s admission that it was trying to produce weapons-grade uranium. Russia sees it as essential that the problem continues to be dealt with in a multilateral, rather than a unilateral framework. Bush’s announcement of an ‘axis of evil’ to include North Korea, Iran and Iraq in early 2002 was seen by both Russia and China as a dangerous new doctrine that promotes dangerous unilateralism and a disregard for international law that could lead to instability. Russia has attempted to use its personal links to Kim Jong-Il to attain agreement on new security assurances to the regime, but the DPRK preferred to deal on a bilateral basis with the USA and asked for Japan to be excluded. The negotiations on Korea are complex, and each actor has different interests: because China is interested above all in stability, it fears a change in the status quo, i.e. any possibility of a reunified Korea (and one with nuclear weapons at that) which could become a challenge to China in the region. Russia, on the other hand, might be keen to reap the benefits of a unified Korea and could welcome the emergence of another medium-sized power as China continues its inexorable rise. The detonation by North Korea of a nuclear device in 2006 raised the stakes, and China may yet have to assume a more assertive role, despite the apparent defusion of the crisis by the USA. Moreover, in case of war, China would be obliged to defend North Korea under the terms of the 1953 Agreement. The inability of the North Korean regime to run the economy also poses the threat of a humanitarian catastrophe on the North Eastern borders of China.133 Therefore, as Barry Buzan suggests, while it is hard to imagine large-scale conflict breaking out in the region, it is just as hard to imagine ‘at least for many decades, anything that could make East Asia into a strong security regime, let alone a security community with a confederal structure like the EU with actor qualities’.134 Russia has joined the multilateral economic and security forums in the region such as the ASEAN Regional Forum and APEC, and has signalled its interest in the ARF taking on a more ‘muscular’ role in the region; for the moment, however, security mechanisms are loose and members prefer to let the USA take care of substantive security matters. It is not clear that Russia would itself be drawn into any conflict here, although it cannot be ruled out that Russian companies might eventually participate in oil and gas projects in the South China Seas. This seems like a distant prospect, but Russia is assisting in building up Chinese maritime forces, which will become more crucial as China seeks to keep open the shipping lanes in order to ensure energy supply routes. In the event of a clash between China and Japan over the Senkaku islands, Russia’s assistance to China may become problematic, although it is Russia’s support to China over Taiwan that is more significant.

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Despite the ideological differences and lack of ethnic ties, the presence of the USA as a security factor means that conflict remains muted.135 Many agree that a credible concert of powers is unlikely, although the six-party talks have been held up as such a model by some. Moreover, the uncertainty surrounding China’s future role also makes it difficult to conceive of a concert of powers in the near future. As Susan Shirk notes, a prerequisite for a concert is ‘that all its members all be status quo powers. . .’136 None of the powers involved could be described definitively as status quo powers. China’s intentions are unclear: for the moment its main territorial ambitions are focused on Taiwan, but in the future, its position regarding territorial disputes in the South and East China Sea will be crucial. China insists that both its domestic and foreign policies are conducted within a framework of ‘peaceful development’ – China had changed this from the original wording of ‘peaceful rise’, which sounded rather more threatening.137 The uncertainty of the US commitment to the region is seen by some as the greatest source of instability. For example, the original version of the US quadrennial defence review (crafted by Clinton) spoke of turning away from Europe and towards the APR, but 9/11 changed all that. This neglect was reversed, however, as military cooperation with Singapore, the Philippines and Indonesia was stepped up in the name of the ‘War on Terror’. Chinese Defence White Papers from 2002 onwards display Chinese anxiety regarding greater US involvement in the region, and in particular, nervousness over a possible change in the status of Taiwan. As one analyst notes, the change in 2004 from previous White Papers, is that the Taiwan issue is highlighted in terms of its implications for wider security in the region, rather than just for China and Taiwan itself.138 The 2006 Defence White Paper is very explicit regarding the threat to Chinese sovereignty posed by a declaration of Taiwanese independence, and is extremely critical of US military cooperation with Taiwan.139

Conclusion Under Putin’s administration Russian policy towards its eastern neighbour has taken on a more predictable and routine character, indeed relations have reached a certain level of maturity, allowing the relationship to sustain small setbacks without these developing into larger problems. On the economic level, trade turnover has increased rapidly; however, given the two states’ proximity, it is still relatively low. If one recalls Vladimir Lukin’s desire in 1992 for the relationship to be one of ‘irreversible mutual dependence’, then this is still far from being the case, as a glance at China’s top ten trading partners for 2006 shows: Russia comes in at number 8, with 1.9 per cent of China’s total trade, while the EU, the USA and Japan together account for nearly half of the total. The composition of bilateral trade remains mainly raw materials and weapons: it seems ironic that so much official rhetoric has been couched in terms of a rejection of the notion that Russia should be the raw materials ‘appendage’ of the West, and yet Russia may end up playing precisely this role vis-à-vis China. For now, both Russia and China appear to be hedging their bets, but China may be playing a

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longer and cleverer game than Russia in this respect. China often appears to have a clearer vision as to how economic and security concerns should link in to domestic priorities. Russia has still not determined its place in the Asia-Pacific region: it remains ambivalent regarding private investment and multilateral cooperation in the energy sphere for example. Resource nationalism appears to go hand in hand with an increase in xenophobia, in particular in the Russian Far East. The final demarcation of the border in 2004 is a landmark achievement, albeit a process begun by Gorbachev; but the dialogue and cooperation regarding joint economic activity on the riverine islands is a positive step forward in learning how to accommodate local needs. In the international sphere there is little new: China is not interested in pursuing an anti-US agenda, and appears more reconciled to playing the role of junior partner to the USA than does Russia. Once again, this is embedded in China’s domestic needs and its commitment to globalisation, which is much stronger than Russia’s. China remains essentially reactive in its policies towards the USA, and, as Foot points out, is ‘neither part of, nor determinedly seeking to build, anti-hegemonic coalitions’.140 Russia itself no longer plays the China card but it appears to have decided on a far more assertive stance vis-à-vis the West, in particular regarding what it sees as interference in Russia’s domestic affairs. I would agree with Lawrence Freedman that China and Russia share the ‘frustration of falling short of its strategic expectations, of promising to challenge the Western ascendancy in international politics and then failing, by some margin, to do so’.141 Their positions in the international system are in many ways similar, that is they are medium-sized powers who seek to project this power in regions where they are treated with ambivalence by their neighbours. China has greater economic power on many levels than Russia, and potentially can become a global, not just a regional economic engine of growth. Russia has far greater political clout, but this is not commensurate with its economic weight: this may change, and Russia must take this into account in its strategic calculations regarding relations with China.

8

Russian policy towards Japan under Putin

He [Putin] has been practising judo for twenty years, so he cannot help but love Japan. (Japanese President Mori)1

Since the highpoint of relations reached in 1997, and marked by the famous El’tsin–Hashimoto ‘summit without neckties’, there has been little of substance in Russo-Japanese relations. In 1997 Tokyo had formally decoupled politics and economics (sekei fukabun now became kakudai kinko or ‘expanded cooperation’) and Hashimoto launched his Eurasian diplomatic initiative. However, El’tsin’s promise to have a peace treaty signed by the year 2000 did not materialise, as, conveniently, El’tsin stepped down at the end of 1999, leaving the problem to Putin to resolve. Under El’tsin the overemphasis on China’s role as a counterweight to the West meant there was limited room for manoeuvre in relations with Japan, which made it difficult to build a domestic constituency in favour of improving relations with Japan. To what extent has Putin been more successful? The politicisation of the Kurils question that held sway in the late Gorbachev and early El’tsin years is somewhat diminished, which is in part a reflection of the greater consensus on foreign policy and the result of the co-option of opposition parties into the Kremlin’s agenda. In Soviet times, the islands were seen as strategically important (the so-called sea bastion concept), but the end of the Cold War and the collapse of the Soviet Union reduced the salience of this factor, in particular as Russia is phasing out its SSBN force. Moreover, fuel and money shortages meant the Russian navy was on the verge of collapse.2 However, as Dmitrii Trenin acknowledges, psychological reasons are far more important: since the collapse of the Soviet Union, and the wars in Chechnia, any further losses of territory would be damaging and it would be difficult for the government to present it in a positive light.3 There is still little public support in Russia in favour of returning the islands to Japan: in fact, if anything, opposition to any transfer has increased since Putin came to power. Thus, if in 1999, 47 per cent said the islands should remain Russian, by 2000 54 per cent said so. By 2005, this figure had risen to 67 per cent.4 (One may speculate that the second

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Chechen War, which began in summer 1999, may have affected the earlier responses.) As to opinion on the overall state of relations between Russia and Japan, in 2000 62 per cent thought relations were good, but by 2005 only 55 per cent did; 10 per cent said they were bad, and 35 per cent found it ‘difficult to say’. Fifty-five per cent of Russians in 2005 said relations are ‘fine as they are’.5 Despite the fact, too, that the lack of a peace treaty means that Russia and Japan are technically still at war, 37 per cent of Russians believed that at the price of losing territory, a peace treaty is unnecessary; 22 per cent said the issue should be dropped completely as a treaty would not guarantee peace, and 18 per cent said it was unnecessary as ‘we have had 60 years without one and have managed to trade perfectly well’. Finally, in answer to the question as to the optimum resolution for Russia, 5 per cent said Japan should be given all four islands in exchange for a peace treaty; 13 per cent said only two islands; a massive 62 per cent thought the issue should be postponed.6 This does not mean that there is not admiration of Japan’s economic success and an interest in its society and culture, but this is seen as a separate issue. On the Japanese side, the resolution of the territorial problem is still seen as playing a decisive role in the development of relations with Russia: in 2001 45 per cent said relations should be dependent on progress on the territorial issue. Further, with the advent of Putin the Japanese public was not optimistic that there would be any territorial concessions: a survey in 2001 showed that 66 per cent were ‘not particularly hopeful’ of an improvement in relations under Putin. On a more positive note, the proportion of respondents citing Russia as their least favourite country had fallen from 35 per cent in 1998 to 23 per cent in 2003 (although one could surmise that bad relations with China and developments in North Korea may have affected these figures, rather than positive developments in bilateral relations themselves). Moreover, despite the fact that on the official level, since 1991 Russia has not been classified as a potential military threat, in the public consciousness this image remains: in 2001 surveys showed that 30 per cent believed Russia posed a military threat to Japan and a further 31.3 per cent said that while Russia did not currently pose a threat, it might do in the future.7 These images are not helped by the fact that Russians living and working in Japan are generally portrayed by the Japanese media as engaging in criminal activities, for example, prostitution and money laundering, or contraband.8 Fortunately, a new generation is coming to the fore in Japan that may know less and less about the ‘Northern Territories’, and for whom the memories of the Second World War are fading. On the other hand, the continuing disputes with China and South Korea regarding Japanese atrocities during the Second World War, and the visits of Japanese leaders to the wartime shrines, mean that the past remains omnipresent. The lack of progress on signing a peace treaty, and missing El’tsin’s deadline was an inauspicious start to Putin’s incumbency as president-elect. There were leadership changes in Japan too: when Prime Minister Obuchi was taken seriously ill, shortly after Putin’s election as president in spring 2000, Yoshiro Mori was appointed in his stead. Mori had a family connection with Russia, as his

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father had been imprisoned in Siberia after the Second World War, later developing close ties with the place of his imprisonment in his capacity as head of the branch of the Japan–USSR friendship society in Ishikawa prefecture. Unfortunately, however, Mori’s low approval rating amongst the Japanese public was not conducive to any new policy moves. There were therefore low expectations of the meeting between President Mori and President Putin, which took place in July 2000 at Okinawa, despite Putin’s description of Japan as a strategically important partner. In September 2000 Putin visited Japan, and Mori revived Japan’s earlier proposal dating from 1998, wherein administrative authority would be retained by Russia for a 10–15 year period, but during which Japanese sovereignty would be acknowledged by both sides. The proposal was rejected by the Russian side, although Putin also recognised the legitimacy of the joint declaration (the so-called ‘Moscow Declaration’).9 Just prior to his meeting with Putin on the sidelines of the APEC meeting in Brunei in late 2000, Foreign Minister Kono said publicly that the Japanese relationship was stagnating and that investing in Russia was almost impossible.10 Discussions on the peace treaty were in any case postponed until 2001. At the Irkutsk summit, Putin told Mori that Russia remained committed to all its obligations under the 1956 Declaration, but that the term ‘transfer’ was not clearly defined. Russia continued to maintain that Japan had renounced its title to the Kurils under the terms of the San Francisco Peace Treaty but Japan insisted that the ‘Northern Territories’ were not in fact part of the Kuril chain. Nevertheless, there were small but positive developments at the subregional level. A good example was the non-visa exchanges whereby Japanese natives of the Kurils could visit the islands. (This was the result of an agreement signed in 1999, which resulted in free visits to the islands by their former inhabitants.) In May 2001 62 Japanese (including 20 former residents of the South Kurils) left on a trip to Shikotan to visit relatives’ graves, and 85 Russian Kuril residents arrived on Hokkaido under the same programme.11

The Suzuki initiative In 1998, following an earthquake on the island of Kunashir, Muneo Suzuki, a former special envoy of Obuchi, had made a trip to the Kurils as part of a humanitarian aid programme. Most of the population had left the island after the quake, and there was a dire shortage of everyday items. On his visit, Suzuki noted the huge difference between Kunashir and Iturup: Iturup had far more consumer goods: here the economy was almost single-handedly supported by the ‘Gidrostroi’ company, originally a seafood processing plant, but which later diversified into banking and construction. However, on Iturup, the attitude towards returning the islands was even more negative than on Kunashir. Under El’tsin, local politicians on the islands had periodically threatened to ‘secede’ from the Russian Federation if economic conditions were not improved. Residents of the Kurils noted that Russian ministers never visited the islands, while there were numerous visits by Japanese officials. Suzuki believed efforts should be made to

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form relations of trust on the principle that a ‘neighbor is closer than a distant relative’.12 Shortly thereafter, Nonaka Hiromu, Secretary-General of the LDP, apparently ‘shocked’ the public and the Gaimusho by stating that the territorial dispute should not stand in the way of a peace treaty between Japan and Russia: this led some to speculate that there was an ‘inter-governmental spat involving both the LDP and MOFA’.13 However, the MOFA Russian school, led by ambassador to Moscow, Minoru Tamba, was quick to quash the experiment. The ‘Russian school’ of the Gaimusho had always been well known for its hawkish views, which had changed remarkably little since the end of the Cold War, and any challenge to their leadership in this area was fairly likely to be rebuffed. Amongst Japanese politicians dealing with the territorial issue, there was a basic division between what Sergei Chugrov terms the ‘gradualists’ and the ‘maximalists’. The ‘gradualists’ would, in essence, be content with the return of just Shikotan and Habomai and the development of broader economic relations, with talks on the two remaining islands to be held at a later date. Suzuki was the main promoter of this line, although the initiative of summer 2000 had come from the LDP secretary Nonaka. However, Chugrov claims that Suzuki was the one who wielded the real influence behind the scenes. The position of the maximalists is fairly straightforward, and is one of no compromise: no peace treaty until all four islands have been returned.14 Foreign Minister Michiko Tanaka, a leading proponent of the maximalist position, was singled out for criticism by Suzuki, who called her statement on the territorial problem a return to Cold War times.15 Despite Putin’s strange assertion that relations were improving, Foreign Minister Kono had a cool reception in Moscow in January 2001, and when Putin postponed the date of the Irkutsk summit from February to March, Russia’s behaviour apparently elicited furious protests in Japan. Former Japanese Prime Minister Nakasone stressed that because the deadline of 2000 set in the Krasnoiarsk agreement had elapsed, without a new one being agreed on, this represented a ‘regression’ from the El’tsin era. Nakasone criticised recent Japanese administrations for having a ‘narrow’ view of bilateral relations: Since the Gorbachev government, I have suggested to Russian leaders to proceed with the problems ‘under a simultaneous equations method’, i.e. the four islands are just one of the elements in the ‘x, y and z’ of the equations. Foreign policy, security, Asian policy, and cooperation in economics, science and technology, culture, and other aspects are also part of the formula. It is important to work for progress also in these other areas and promote harmony of feelings. He pointed to Primakov’s suggestion of joint ventures on the islands (opposed by the Gaimusho).16

Advent of Koizumi: crisis management In late April 2001, Koizumi was elected Prime Minister of Japan and Putin

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reacted positively: ‘At the moment, Russian–Japanese relations are consistently developing towards the establishment of a constructive partnership that accounts for the strategic interests of both of our countries.’17 Unfortunately, shortly thereafter, relations became mired in disputes over fishing rights. In summer 2001, relations appeared to reach crisis point when Japan discovered that Russia was issuing licences to South Korean firms to fish around the Kuril islands. Prime Minister Koizumi warned Putin that Japan would seize the Korean vessels and accused Russia of cooperating with Korea in order to weaken Japan’s position in its talks with Russia on a peace treaty.18 However, the new pragmatism prevailing in Moscow meant Tokyo’s protests were dismissed as a ‘purely commercial and private matter’. Japan argued that Korea should have sought permission from Japan rather than Russia, but Russia pointed out that the agreement with Korea was based on a 1991 fisheries agreement, and furthermore that Tokyo’s position was weakened due to the signing of a fishing agreement in 1998, which gave Japan the right to fish in the Sea of Okhotsk for an annual payment of US$3 million. Russia told Tokyo that it would stop third parties from fishing there only if Japan paid millions of dollars in compensation.19 That year Russia had reduced Japan’s annual salmon quota by 4,000 tonnes, and given the generally poor state of relations, Japan’s strong reaction is more understandable. Thus on 2 July 2001, Foreign Minister Tanaka warned Ivanov: ‘If South Korean vessels begin fishing in the abovementioned zone, it will arouse discontent in Japan and may have negative consequences for everything positive that Japan and Russia have recently achieved in their bilateral relations.’20 There were fears that Japanese patrol boats might even try to seize Korean fishing vessels – in June, Japan unilaterally announced a ban on South Korean fishing off Sanriku in its exclusive economic zone, apparently retaliating against Korea’s planned fishing in waters close to the southern Kurils.21 Fishing is in many ways a better measure of the real value of the Kuril islands to Russia as the Sea of Okhotsk is one of the richest fishing grounds in the area and in terms of the region’s economic well-being, the fishing industry could fairly be described as its life-blood. As well as the fishing disputes just mentioned, there were several incidents of poaching by Japanese trawlers, a problem that had already arisen under El’tsin and has continued to plague relations under Putin. Japan sees the islands as its sovereign territory and therefore refuses to look upon such incidents as violations of Russian territorial waters. Amidst all this, the former governor of Primorskii krai, Evgenii Nazdratenko, controversial and troublesome enough in his former post, was now creating more difficulties in his new post as Head of the State Fishing Committee. He charged that virtually all revenue from fishing auctions had remained in Moscow, rather than going to the Far East. His solution was to close the Sea of Okhotsk to all foreign fishing, which would naturally benefit firms in the Far East, many of which had links to Nazdratenko.22 Nazdratenko claimed that new procedures were undemocratic,23 but in reality he was probably trying to protect the interests of his former colleagues and business cronies in Vladivostok where quotas had been

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cut (they had previously been kept artificially high at the expense of other far eastern regions, in particular Magadan and Khabarovsk).24 By 2003, Nazdratenko had been ousted as fisheries chief, due to his attempts to change quotas against the wishes of the regional governors. The appointment of a presidential representative to the RFE, Konstantin Pulikovskii, was widely seen as a chance for regional legislatures to get even with renegade governors: as a result a new system for allocating licences was established in January 2001, and now licences were to be allocated by auction. Local fishermen argued that under the new system only foreigners would be able to afford to bid and in Primorskii krai representatives of the industry claimed that it would in effect put their fishermen out of business. Under the new legislation, fishermen from Kamchatka, Sakhalin (and Koryakskii autonomous okrug) would have priority, as their regions bordered the Okhotsk and Bering Seas, as well as the Sea of Japan.25 Illegal fishing is still a thorny issue: the Russian fishing industry is riddled with corruption. In the mid-1990s, the subsidies to the fishing industry were ended, but no national policy was formulated, and since then the fishing industry has been dominated by the shadow economy. Economic losses from poaching are growing: in 2005, the proportion of crab illegally caught and brought to ports in Japan and the USA from Russia exceeded 85 per cent, with a total cost to Russia of $300 million, i.e. seven out of ten tons of seafood exports.26 Today there are two basic types of poaching: one is straightforward poaching; the second is that a crew with a licence to catch fish simply exceeds its limit and then sells on the catch to a foreign ship. Punishment is minor and customs officials are eminently bribable. According to one source, the main links in the criminal fishing industry go back to government structures in Moscow and to dealers living abroad.27 Putin has called on Far Eastern specialists in the fishing industry, including Sergei Darkin, the new governor of Primorskii krai, and himself a corrupt figure, to devise ways of cleaning up the industry. Darkin proposed limiting fishing to just a few large fishing companies, although this would run the risk of creating cartels.28 Living conditions on the disputed islands have deteriorated still further during Putin’s time in office. The islands rely heavily on subsidies from the centre: in November 2000 Kasianov said that these would be increased and drew up a five-year plan for the socio-economic development of the islands.29 The Kuril islands showed the highest population decline for the entire Russian Federation. The former Sakhalin governor (under whose administration the islands fall), Igor’ Farkhutdinov, accused Japan of exploiting the economic situation on the Kurils and called on Putin to improve conditions on the islands. He pointed out further that conditions were worst on Kunashir and Shikotan, the two islands Moscow was offering Japan, while the situation on Iturup and Paramushir was better ‘and maybe this is the reason why no one is talking about transferring them . . .’30 In April 2001 deputies of the Sakhalin Duma adopted a statement on the results of the working meeting of President Putin and Prime Minister Mori, which took place in Irkutsk on 25 March.

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Any initiatives aimed at concluding a peace treaty by a full reconsideration of Russia’s stance on the problem of the [Kuril] islands’ affiliation, which has already been solved, pose a threat to the territorial integrity and sovereignty and the Russian Federation. However, the same day, the governor of Khabarovsk krai, Viktor Ishaev (also chair of the inter-regional economic association of the Far East and Trans-Baikal region) maintained that Russia should in fact transfer all four islands to Japan on the basis that the economic losses suffered by Russia would be more than compensated for by the improvement in relations with Japan and the subsequent investment in Russia.31

The ‘Suzuki affair’ and its consequences In spring 2002, bilateral relations appeared to take a downward turn: there were misunderstandings over the interpretation of the islands dispute and the Japanese politician, Muneo Suzuki was accused of placing orders for humanitarian aid to the South Kurils, but with his own companies. Suzuki’s links to Japanese diplomats called into question the integrity of the entire Japanese Foreign Ministry. At a meeting in the Japanese Foreign Ministry, Suzuki allegedly claimed Tokyo did not even really need the islands and that the dispute only continued for reasons of national prestige.32 The affair led to a purge of up to 30-odd employees of the Japanese Foreign Ministry who had apparently been close to Suzuki, including the then Foreign Minister, Tanaka. This was a severe blow to expertise on Russia within Japan, and many were transferred to work on relations with China instead.33 In May 2002, a senior analyst at the Gaimusho and a veteran Russian expert with strong ties to Suzuki were arrested. Masaru Sato was charged with having embezzled funds belonging to the ‘Cooperation Committee’: this committee had been set up in 1993 and was an official Gaimusho organ charged with disbursing aid to Russia and other former Soviet republics. The committee had also provided funds for construction of a guesthouse on Kunashir, popularly known as ‘Muneo House’ by the islanders and the Russianists at the Gaimusho. In April 2003, the Cooperation Committee was abolished and the volume of humanitarian aid given by Japan to the Kuril islands was reduced.34 This scandal came hot on the heels of a spying incident and a general upsurge of anti-Russian feeling in Japan and given the vulnerable and sensitive nature of relations between Russia and Japan, the extent of the damage to the already fragile reserves of mutual trust and confidence was immense. In March 2002, in echoes of the ‘hearings’ held in 1992 in the Supreme Soviet on El’tsin’s apparent plans to transfer the Kurils to Japan, key figures in the Duma, together with high-ranking guests, assembled and spent the day urging changes in Russian policy towards Japan and calling for Russia’s withdrawal from international agreements that stood in the way of protecting Russian territorial integrity. The Duma speaker, Gennadii Seleznev, denounced Russian diplomacy’s ‘excessive liberalism’ vis-à-vis Japan.35 By the beginning of 2002, in just over two years, three different prime ministers and four

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foreign ministers had come and gone (Makiko Tanaka was dismissed in early 2002 and replaced by Yoriko Kawaguchi, who had little diplomatic experience).36 Suzuki repeatedly claimed that Japan would not benefit from the return of all the islands and he apparently also dictated the Gaimusho response to the Chechen conflict, which Tokyo declared to be an internal Russian affair.37 Talks on a peace treaty remained deadlocked and Deputy Foreign Minister Losiukov professed himself pessimistic, and unable to name even one member of the Japanese negotiating team capable of changing Tokyo’s basic position. As he put it, ‘[T]here was a pause, and at first we were patient, as we knew the administration was busy with internal problems, but the pause lasted nearly half a year [...] we realised that the interest from the Japanese side had disappeared.’38 Losiukov even hinted that there was a deliberate Japanese campaign to damage bilateral relations, orchestrated by the Gaimusho, and ‘inspired by those forces in Japan who still think in Cold War terms’.39 After the Suzuki affair, the so-called two-island option was brought completely into disrepute: ‘We never officially offered Russia a two-island option’, claimed Kawaguchi.40

2003: applying ‘simultaneous equations’? However, notwithstanding the subsequent coolness in bilateral relations, by mid2002 the Japanese Foreign Minister was in Vladivostok expressing Japan’s keen interest in building an oil pipeline from Eastern Siberia to the Asia-Pacific region: so what had changed? This can be explained first, by the fact that as mentioned above, Japan had decoupled economics from politics, but also because the need to diversify energy resources appeared pressing in the face of developments in the Middle East. Foreign Minister Kawaguchi also stressed that it should be possible to find ways for the two economies to complement each other, as ‘increased exports of Russian energy to Japan would lead to increased economic interdependence and trust’.41 In January 2003, an ‘action plan’ was elaborated that sought to develop bilateral relations on the ‘broadest range of issues’. The idea was to build on the tasks laid down in 1998 by El’tsin and Hashimoto: six pillars were outlined: (1) deepening of political dialogue; (2) talks on the peace treaty; (3) cooperation in the international sphere; (4) trade and economic cooperation; (5) military and security links, (6) as well as progress in cultural areas. Prime Minister Koizumi described the action plan as a kind of ‘road map’ which would allow the two sides to develop and deepen relations within the framework of separate agreements on key issues.42 It appeared as if Tokyo had taken on board the advice of former Prime Minister Nakasone and his belief in ‘simultaneous equations’. The two parties affirmed previous declarations and documents, including the 1956 Joint Declaration, the 1993 Tokyo Declaration and the Irkutsk Statement of 2001. The year 2003 ended with a trip to Japan by Mikhail Kasianov, the first Russian Prime Minister to visit for five years. At the meeting there was an overview of progress in implementing the Action Plan, with discussions on construction of an oil pipeline to the Pacific coast taking centre stage. Kasianov was accompanied by Sergei Darkin, governor of Primorskii krai, as well as Putin’s envoy to the RFE, Pulikovskii. Tokyo particularly welcomed the support of the Far Eastern governors for the Nakhodka route.43

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Putin’s second term In March 2004, Putin was re-elected as president with a huge majority, and one of his first steps was to appoint both a new Prime Minister, Mikhail Fradkov, and a new Minister of Foreign Affairs, Sergei Lavrov. Lavrov continued Moscow’s uncompromising line on the Kurils, insisting that Russia would only return Habomai and Shikotan, the two smaller islands. Russian officials presented their stance as a compromise, but Japan was unwilling to see it in this light, as domestic politics militate against any deal on the islands other than the four-islands solution. As one Russian diplomat based in Tokyo complained, ‘somewhere around the middle of 2004 one got the feeling that our Japanese partners had clearly decided on a more active and even pressurising stance with regard to discussions on the territorial issue. This position meant that relations could move to the level of strategic partnership only if Russia recognised Japanese sovereignty over all four islands, in which case Tokyo would be flexible on the how and when they would be transferred to Japan.’44 There appeared, moreover, to be signs that Tokyo was once again making progress in the economic sphere dependent on progress around the territorial issues, which hardly accorded with the spirit of the ‘Action Plan’. Thus in May 2004, Japan’s First Deputy Foreign Minister said that the territorial dispute was hindering the development of bilateral economic relations.45 The deadlock in Russo-Japanese relations contrasted starkly with SinoRussian relations, which appeared to be thriving: indeed the joint border was finally demarcated in autumn 2004. There was speculation that Tokyo’s hard line on the islands was based on the hope that Moscow’s territorial concessions to Beijing could be repeated in the case of the Kurils. However, Putin was quick to assert that the agreement with China set no precedent. There were changes on the Japanese side: Foreign Minister Kawaguchi was replaced in autumn 2004 by Nobutaka Machimura, and she made it clear that Japan’s policy towards Russia would remain unchanged, the aim being to conclude a peace treaty exclusively on the basis of resolution of the territorial problem. Meanwhile, the new Minister for the Environment, whose portfolio includes the Kuril islands, said that she would be supporting the popular movement for the return of the northern territories.46 Table 8.1 Russia–Japan trade, 2000–05 Year

Exports ($bn)

Imports ($bn)

Total ($bn)

2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005

4.59 3.87 3.28 4.22 5.69 6.21

0.57 0.72 0.94 1.76 3.11 4.49

5.16 4.59 4.22 5.98 8.81 10.69

Source: Japan Association for Trade with Russian and Central-Eastern Europe (ROTOBO).

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In November 2004, Putin once again acknowledged Russia’s pledge (made in the bilateral 1956 Moscow declaration) to transfer two of the disputed islands to Japan (Habomai and Shikotan, the smallest of the four). Some pointed to the fact that Koizumi had increased his majority since his re-election and therefore had a very good mandate from his people which might make compromise possible. On the other hand, the issue of the islands was still potentially explosive, and in the context of Japan’s greater assertiveness vis-à-vis Chinese territorial claims, a move to give up Japan’s claim to any of the islands would have been political suicide. The situation was essentially one of stalemate: as a Russian academic put it, a compromise must be found between ‘two or nothing’ or ‘four or nothing’.47 The year 2005 was a year of multiple anniversaries in Russo-Japanese relations: it was the 150th anniversary of the establishment of diplomatic relations after the signing of the Treaty of Shimoda (7 February 1855), which determined the border between Russia and Japan around the Kuril islands. It was also the 100th anniversary of the Treaty of Portsmouth which ended the Russo-Japanese War in September 1905, as well as the 60th anniversary of the end of the Second World War. The anniversary on 7 February 2005 (known as ‘Northern Territories Day’ in Japan), was marked by a rally in Tokyo that demanded Russia’s immediate return of the islands; on the Russian side, in Sakhalin, another rally took place calling on Japan to give up its territorial demands, and asking Japan to ‘stop focusing on the past and to take the first step toward a true relationship of goodwill with Russia’.48 Putin was due to visit in February, but the atmosphere surrounding the visit meant it was postponed until April, and finally did not take place until November 2005. Perhaps to have visited on the exact anniversary would have elicited expectations that could not be fulfilled; there were many calls from academics, as well as policymakers, that the visit should be delayed, as one said, because Putin had ‘nothing to put on the table’.49 The constant postponements will have revived Japanese memories of the fiasco surrounding El’tsin’s postponed summit in 1992, which had greatly offended Tokyo. Moreover, the feasibility study for the pipeline had not yet been finalised. Comments from diplomats prior to the visit were pessimistic, and Foreign Minister Lavrov’s statements demonstrated both greater assertiveness, and an almost nonchalant attitude regarding Japan’s insistence on a resolution to the problem: ‘Our positions are opposite, and the Japanese government itself never set a time limit . . . so we are not in a hurry.’ He emphasised too that the lack of a treaty should not have an effect on relations.50 One positive note in bilateral relations was the heavy symbolism of Koizumi’s attendance at the Victory Day celebrations in Moscow in May 2005. As a Russian diplomat pointed out, this was not an easy decision for Koizumi to make, given the views of many in the Japanese political elite.51 Shortly after the Putin–Koizumi summit of November 2005, the new Russian ambassador to Tokyo Evgenii Losiukov, confirmed the view of the Russian public that the lack of a peace treaty did not hinder the development of normal relations. He implicitly criticised Japan by noting that there was an attempt to ‘trick’ Russia into discussing alternative interpretations of the 1956 Declaration.

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The ambassador emphasised that the ‘role of Japan [in the Second World War] is still well remembered in Russia’, adding that Japan was not ‘an innocent victim of the war’. He pessimistically suggested that: negotiations on whether there is a base for negotiations should take place. If there is no base, and the situation is such as it is now, then there might be no point in wasting time trying to persuade each other of the existence of a ‘historical wrong’. Losiukov concluded that it would be best if the two sides concentrated on economic cooperation.52 This was a clear signal to Japan that Russia would not be pushed on the issue of the transfer of territory, nor could Tokyo use economic levers to play on local dissatisfaction with central policies. Talks on the pipeline continued during 2006, but the fatal shooting by Russian border guards of a Japanese fisherman in September led to furious protests in Japan, and a demand for compensation. The Russian authorities were unrepentant, pointing out that the responsibility for the incident lay entirely with Tokyo.53

Japan, Russia and the Russian Far East Governor Ishaev (Khabarovsk) has stressed that it is imperative for the RFE to turn towards the APR and build its economy on the premise of deeper integration with the region, and in particular by developing relations with Japan.54 As was detailed in the previous chapter, suspicion and distrust of China in the RFE makes Japan the more attractive partner; on the other hand, the lack of elite support at the centre has made it difficult to push commercial interests in the region. There had been increased optimism with the appointment of Konstantin Pulikovskii as Putin’s envoy to the RFE in 2001, as he was well known as an advocate of increased Russo-Japanese economic cooperation, so much so that he earned the soubriquet ‘Japanese ambassador’.55 Japan is second or third trade partner for the RFE regions: in 2005, Japan was the second trading partner for the RFE as a whole (31 per cent), and no. 1 for Sakhalin and Iakutiia.56 Investment remained pitifully low, however: of the total Japanese investment in the Asia-Pacific region in a 26-year period to 2001 as a whole, the Russian Federation received 0.054 per cent of the total and of that amount 0.02 per cent went to the RFE.57 Japan’s share of overall investments in the Far Eastern economy declined, and did not exceed 11 per cent.58 For some time, the Sakhalin projects appeared to be the only bright spots in economic relations: the Sakhalin projects were an anomaly in the otherwise cautious Japanese approach to the Russian Far East. In 2003 Russia and Japan signed a $2 billion contract for construction of the world’s largest liquefied natural gas (LNG) plant on Sakhalin – Sakhalin-II, which was originally led by Shell and two Japanese corporations. It has been noted by economists that the effect of Sakhalin-I (an oil-extraction project which is already producing oil) on the RFE economy has been very positive: the share of Russian supplies of machinery, materials and services has increased over the years since the project began. Moreover, the positive effect

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has been felt not just by Sakhalin but in the rest of the RFE also: 12,000 jobs have been created, and within the framework of the Sakhalin-1 project more than 50 Russian enterprises, mainly local, received orders amounting to a sum of more than $200 million.59 However, these projects cannot be viewed as typical, and being an offshore project it does not necessarily herald the solution to the Far East’s energy problems. Production from Sakhalin-II was due to be transported to Japan from 2007: many large Japanese and South Korean utilities have signed supply contracts for LNG to be exported over the following few years.60 Japan would be the main purchaser of the gas, and experts saw demand in the region for LNG in general as being on the rise, indeed in 2000 Japan became the world’s largest LNG market.61 Unfortunately, developments have placed in jeopardy the completion of Sakhalin-II: in summer 2005 Shell admitted it had incurred huge cost overruns on Sakhalin and the Russian government had been pressuring Shell to sell half its stake in the project to Gazprom.62 This was part of a general trend towards ousting foreign investors in favour of home-grown monopolies such as Gazprom and Rosneft. As with the Eastern Siberian pipeline, the Russian government has used pre-existing environmental protests to back up the state monopolies in their bid to revise the production-sharing agreements. Protestors had for some time been concerned about the effect of the Sakhalin project on endangered species, such as the grey whale, but their protests had previously gone unheeded by the Russian government. The Minister for Natural Resources now claimed that the production-sharing agreement on Sakhalin-II should never have been signed.63 The trend towards resource nationalism is evidenced further by the Russian government’s approval of draft legislation which would restrict foreign companies’ participation in so-called ‘strategic’ areas of the economy, i.e. oil and gas fields and mineral deposits, atomic energy and military hardware. Ten oil and gas fields are due to be designated as strategic, and foreign investors are to be prohibited from acquiring a controlling stake.64 Russian commentators like to point out that Japan is counting on reducing its dependence on deliveries of Arab oil from 90 to 80 per cent, and that, with the help of East Siberian resources, this could be reduced further, to 60 per cent.65 Many Russian economists and scholars see Japan’s need to diversify as more pressing since the beginning of the war in Iraq in Spring 2003. However, Japanese scholars are keen to rebuff such suggestions and suggest that in fact the growth of Japanese primary energy consumption has already reached its peak and might even decrease.66 Similarly, Tat’iana Anikina cites predictions that demand for oil in Japan in the next 20 years may stabilise at the six million barrel mark (but reaching 12 billion or more in China).67 This is confirmed by Frank Umbach, who notes that the share of oil in Japan’s overall energy demand is projected to drop gradually due to the introduction of environment-clean LNG after the ratification of Kyoto. In 2000, Japan became the world’s largest LNG market, according to Umbach. In light of this, the Sakhalin projects take on greater significance. Japan has also proposed a multilateral energy system in East Asia in order to limit its vulnerability to oil supply disruption.68 One of the more promising areas for redevelopment of the Russian Far East appeared to be the proposals for building a pipeline from Angarsk to Nakhodka

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on the Pacific coast. Russian media reports circulated that claimed Japan was prepared to invest up to $7.5 billion in the project and to build key elements of infrastructure. However, these reports were very much exaggerated, and Japanese sources stressed that it was in fact Transneft that had initially proposed the construction of a pipeline to the Pacific Ocean in early 2002.69 Earlier, China and Russia had discussed building a pipeline, but one that would run from Angarsk to Daqing in China, which was the option supported by the Russian oil conglomerate Yukos. In February 2003 a decision was taken to build both pipelines, i.e. to build one from Angarsk to Nakhodka, but with a spur to Daqing. An agreement had been signed between Yukos and China in May 2003, but subsequently it was announced that the spur route to Daqing was to be confirmed only once the volumes of oil had been agreed. In June the same year Putin confirmed his interest in the Pacific route personally to the Japanese Prime Minister, asserting that despite the arguments of some that the Chinese route was cheaper and less time-consuming, ‘. . . we need to think seriously about the exploitation of Sakhalin resources and the search for new markets in the Asia-Pacific region’.70 The Chinese route is faster, shorter and cheaper, according to Timonina, 1,400 miles and would take about seven years, costing $2.8 billion; the Japanese route would be 2,300 miles and would cost around $5.8 billion, but would take ten years.71 By the following month, Russian media was rife with reports that the Japanese were pledging $7.5 billion to the project, ten times more than that offered by China, and according to some reports, even offering to build infrastructure, such as an ‘energy bridge’ from Sakhalin to Hokkaido, the energy from which would be three times as cheap as Japanese; for this reason it was argued, transportation to Tokyo and the creation of the corresponding infrastructure would quickly justify itself.72 However, experts in Japan pointed out that these claims were highly exaggerated, and that the Japanese are not prepared to invest to this extent. In the end, the Russian government has pledged to build the first part of the Eastern Siberian pipeline itself – Taishet to Skovorodino – Japan remains keen, but the Russian government’s plans are uncertain, and Tokyo may tire of waiting. Finally, there are prospects for Russo-Japanese economic cooperation, but the Russian government must itself do some of the groundwork. Tokyo has consistently made it clear that the key to Japanese investment is not even dependent on signing a peace treaty, what was needed was for Moscow to improve the investment climate in the Russian Far East. This, in effect, deprived Moscow of any levers to use in improving investment and trade prospects. It is therefore not politics but economics that is the stumbling block. As one Russian economist who has conducted research in the region emphasises, the RFE is fine as a supplier of raw materials and unskilled labour, but for large corporations operating in a high-technology area (precisely where the RFE needs investment), more specialised and developed factors are important – highly trained personnel and specialised infrastructure, business environment, and so on. On this basis, the RFE cannot hope to compete with China and Southeast Asia, which attract the lion’s share of Japanese direct investment.

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Japan and Central Asia Considering Japan’s need to diversify its energy sources, where does Central Asia fit in? Could Japan not look here to meet its energy needs? In general, the Japanese have kept a lower profile than during the Hashimoto years. However, Japan may aspire to a higher profile in the longer term, and the launch of its ‘Central Asia plus Japan’ initiative (2004) may be evidence of a more pro-active policy here. The initiative culminated in a meeting in Tokyo in summer 2006, to which all the Central Asian countries, plus Afghanistan as observer, were invited, with Turkmenistan conspicuous by its absence. The Central Asian states have benefited from Japanese ODA over the years; but there is now a broader regional perspective and the significant fact that Japan is involved in the peace-building operation in Afghanistan. Japan is seeking to participate in building infrastructure in the region, for example linking Tajikistan to Afghanistan by reconstructing roads, roads that could link up eventually to Pakistan and then to the ocean. Japan is very interested too in pipelines being routed from Turkmenistan via Afghanistan and Pakistan to India, although there are many problems with this (and Japan is competing directly with China here). Japan describes this type of network as an eventual ‘Corridor of Peace and Stability’, placing this in the context of an overall thrust to encourage greater intra-regional cooperation, what it terms ‘open regional cooperation’. The policy initiative is largely devoid of pronouncements on human rights, an area in which Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan in particular, are seriously deficient; but Japan sums up its approach as economic development ‘fostering democracy, leading in turn to peace and happiness’.73 Japan cannot hope to rival China and Russia in terms of influence in the realms of politics and security, but it could be an attractive investment partner, and even an alternative model of democratisation.

Russia and Japan in the Asia-Pacific and the global arena In 2000, strains in Sino-Japanese relations became apparent, and tensions over Taiwan increased: there were repeated unauthorised incursions by Chinese research vessels into Japanese territorial waters. Tokyo also raised the possibility of reassessment of its existing ODA programme to China, due to concern over its military spending. Also, China’s long-term challenge was becoming increasingly apparent, and the US policy on China was also hardening. Mori, unlike his successors, refrained from visiting the controversial Yasukuni Shrine. Tokyo sought reassurances from Pyongyang on its ballistic missile programme and clarification regarding the location of ten Japanese nationals abducted from Japan by North Korean agents in the 1970s and 1980s. In the wider international arena, prospects for cooperation remained mixed: Japan continued to be locked into US security arrangements in the Asia-Pacific, and remained unperturbed by Chinese accusations that Japan’s support for the NMD implied intent against Taiwan. As has been pointed out, China fears ‘the formation of a quasi-alliance amongst the US–Japan and Taiwan’.74 The rise of

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tensions between China and Japan in 2004–05 exacerbated Chinese antipathy, and China was predictably unenthusiastic about Japan’s bid for a UN Security Council seat. Russia, despite presenting it as a positive step, remained lukewarm about supporting Japan’s bid, saying only that it would support the majority decision, sanguine that China would veto any such move. Japan was disappointed by the failure at the UN World Summit in 2005 to agree on reforming the UNSC, in particular as nearly a fifth of contributions to the UN are from Japan, second only to the United States (Russia and China pay only 1.532 per cent and 1.2 per cent respectively as they are deemed to be ‘developing countries’). Prime Minister Koizumi went so far as to call for a cut in Japan’s contributions to the United Nations and he noted that a growing number of Japanese were frustrated by the fact that scant attention was paid to Japanese views on international affairs, despite its support for the UN.75 One highly placed Japanese diplomat said he believes that China would like to see Japan remain a ‘political dwarf, but an economic giant’, i.e. to continue to fuel economic prosperity in the APR, but to keep any political ambitions under control.76 By April 2005, Chinese diplomats were describing bilateral relations as being at their worst since the re-establishment of diplomatic ties in 1972.77 Many in Japan believed that it was no coincidence that this came at a time when Japan had reaffirmed its security treaty with the United States.78 In turn, Japan is ambivalent regarding the growth of China: first, regarding Chinese military spending and the huge increase in its defence budget (one anonymous diplomat noted that most nuclear research projects are ‘off-budget’); second, regarding China’s energy policies, Japan considers China’s heavy energy consumption and its quest for energy resources and its corresponding trade with illiberal regimes as having a negative impact on the development and promotion of human rights; third, the economic disparity between the regions leads to local unrest, which could be destabilising for the wider region; fourth, there are serious environmental concerns: although since the Gleneagles Summit when China finally became a dialogue partner, these problems may become easier to address. As part of its attempt to raise its profile, Japan has been at the forefront of formulating the ‘East Asian Community Concept’ which has developed out of the ASEAN+3 framework (the 3 being China, Japan and South Korea) into a regular East Asian summit. As was pointed out by the Japanese ambassador to the UK, this is no longer just an ethnic East Asian concept, as it includes Australia, New Zealand and India,79 and indeed Russia has expressed its interest in becoming an observer. A report on the EAC by the Centre for East Asian Community, emphasises the importance of a ‘soft regional identity’ and warns against developing ‘an identity focused primarily on differences with other regions’.80 On the other hand, this lack of shared identity, which many see as an enduring problem in this region, may make the forum a mere ‘talking shop’, rather than an effective means of approaching challenges.

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The Korean Peninsula As Christopher W. Hughes points out, the first Korean crisis in 1994 ‘demonstrated the US–Japan alliance’s fundamental lack of political and military operability to respond to regional contingencies’. This led to a strengthening of the alliance through the revision of the Guidelines for Japan–US Defence Cooperation from September 1997 onwards. Then in May 1999 legislation was passed that allowed the JSDF to provide logistical support to US forces to defend Japan in the event of regional contingencies around its periphery. Japanese forces will also play more of a role in terms of anti-piracy patrolling in the East Asian region.81 Generally, the questioning by Japanese policymakers of the continuing relevance and applicability of article 9 of the Constitution, alarms other states in the area, as well as Russian defence figures. Thus, an article in Voennaia mysl’ (Military Thought), a leading policy journal that publishes articles by members of Russia’s defence establishment, expressed the concern that Japan was being groomed by the USA to become a kind of ‘Asian Great Britain’, noting also that should the DPRK complete a nuclear programme, then Japan ‘is bound to raise the question of starting its own nuclear programme . . .’82 Discussion of the possibility of Japan acquiring a nuclear weapon increasingly has become less of a taboo in Japanese domestic circles.83 Russia and Japan share an interest in the peaceful resolution of the Korean issue, and Russia has worked hard to ensure it has a place at the table in the talks on the future of the peninsula. In February 2000, Ivanov visited both Pyongyang and Tokyo, in an attempt to carve out a bigger role for Moscow and Tokyo in the peace talks.84 Later that year, Putin also discussed with the Japanese ways to include Japan and Russia in the four-way talks on the Korean Peninsula. In the long term, and in particular, given the possibility of reunification of the two Koreas, economic projects take on increased significance: these include oil and gas exploration in North Korean waters in the Yellow Sea and the Sea of Japan, and the pipeline transit of oil and gas to South Korea. On a more practical note, Russia acted as a ‘go-between’: at Tokyo’s request, during talks with Kim JongIl, Igor Ivanov emphasised that Japan was extremely concerned for the fate of Japanese citizens abducted by North Korean intelligence in the 1950s and 1960s. In 2005 Russia handed over to Japan the names of 27,000 Japanese prisoners-ofwar who had been imprisoned in Siberia and then sent to North Korea at the end of the Second World War.85 Several commentators have seen in the Korean crisis an opportunity to use the idea of ‘a concert of powers’ at work in the region. Francis Fukuyama sees the six-party talks as perhaps evolving into something like the OSCE, dealing with ‘second-order security issues’.86 Others are less optimistic, thus Michael R. Auslin sees the six-party talks as ‘merely a response to the problem, not a mechanism already in place’.87 Instead, Auslin suggests treating the Japan–South Korean relationship as the potential core for an order that could evolve into a mechanism.88 However, given the lack of trust between the two governments, this seems unlikely for the present. Certainly since the testing of

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a nuclear missile by North Korea in October 2006, Japan appears to have decided on a more pro-active approach regarding North Korea, witness its lobbying in the UN for sanctions against the DPRK following the nuclear test in autumn 2006. Herein lies the dilemma for Russia, and China in particular: China does not want a nuclear North Korea and fears this might encourage Japan in the direction of its own nuclear programme. As Hughes suggests, Japan may not be able to sustain the pursuit of ‘simultaneous non-military and economic approaches to security’ if it begins to allocate more resources to military objectives. This has far-reaching implications for the Russo-Japanese relationship, as large-scale energy projects may come under threat.89 Unfortunately, Russia has a somewhat limited role to play in deciding Japan’s future security role: it would probably be best for Russia therefore to promote good relations with all actors, and to join the multilateral forums and mechanisms being sponsored by Japan, particularly in view of the uncertainty as to China’s strategic posture.

Conclusion The territorial dispute does not represent the sum total of bilateral relations: as has been seen, many believe a peace treaty is unnecessary and that relations are ‘fine as they are’. However, this may be more a reflection of the low expectations of relations than that relations really are ‘fine’: the reality is that relations tend to lurch from one ‘mini-crisis’ to another, and lack substance, and the failure to fully normalise relations is an obstacle to promoting real dialogue. As long as Japan continues to insist on the return of the islands as a pre-requisite to signing a peace treaty, it will be difficult to move forward. Russia’s new assertiveness means that territorial concessions by Moscow are less and less likely. A return to the formula of ‘simultaneous equations’, as envisaged by Nakasone, the ‘Action Plan’ of 2003, is needed to broaden cooperation before it can be deepened. However, it may be that there are simply too few opportunities for dialogue. In Russo-Chinese relations there was no avoiding discussion of the border question, it was a matter of urgency. As regards the issue of the Kurils, there is no such urgency, and Russian plans for economic development of the islands point in that direction. Even the pipeline, which initially appeared to herald a new dawn for Russo-Japanese relations and perhaps even a chance to integrate other regional actors in a model of liberal interdependence theory, may not be sufficient in itself to overcome the decades of mistrust and suspicion. The evidence that Japan is in dire need of Russian oil may be overstated, which means that Moscow’s attempts to play off Japan against China will not succeed. The new Russian ‘resource nationalism’, which entails greater protectionism and the promotion of energy resources as strategic reserves to be used in the pursuit of the goal of economic superpower, has already seen the marginalisation of foreign investors (including Japanese companies) in the Sakhalin project. Russia must cease playing on traditional fears of economic globalisation and liberal market

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forces, if it is still serious about achieving long-term economic cooperation with Japan. If, as Dmitrii Trenin and Vasilii Mikheev argue, territory can become an economic resource, rather than a geopolitical tool or rallying-point for nationalist sentiment, then this may be the key to resolution of the territorial dispute in the future.90

9

Conclusions

Like Gorbachev before him, El’tsin placed too much emphasis on relations with Europe and the United States in the initial months, seeing in Japan solely the solution to the economic woes of the Russian Far East. Scepticism regarding the West’s readiness to assist Russia, and suspicion regarding its motives, was, in the Asia-Pacific, focused on Japan, which was perceived by Russia as part of the West economically and politically, if not geographically. China’s independent foreign policy and articulation of its national interests was therefore more to Russia’s liking. After the cancellation of El’tsin’s visit to Japan in September 1992, a more pragmatic strain appeared in Russian foreign policy, albeit one that required a final reshuffle of institutions and politicians in order to carry this out effectively. The perception arose that Russia had expected too much of the West, both economically and politically, which had failed to deliver. In this context, Japan became a symbol of betrayal, a country that was seen as taking advantage of Russia’s weakness and territorial fragility. Congruence in Russia between domestic concerns and international orientation appeared to increase. Some Western analysts have tended to view the choice facing El’tsin’s Russia as one between Gorbachevian ‘new thinking’ or ‘an isolationist or neoimperialist framework’,1 while in fact something quite different emerged. Thus, as Aleksei Pushkov has argued, while from 1988 to 1992 Moscow ‘forgot about geopolitics’, the West showed it was alive and well.2 The Kozyrev approach to foreign policy according to his critics, consisted of subjugation to the West in all matters. The result of these policies, they argued, was the expansion of NATO eastwards, the ultimate demonstration of the West’s cynicism and self-interest. Not all of these critics were nationalists of Zhirinovskii’s ilk, or Communists in the Ziuganov mould: these were pragmatists who saw Russia’s destiny as lying neither specifically in Eurasia nor in Asia, but rather in both: Russia should balance both the eastward and westward orientations (Stankevich, Lukin, Rumiantsev, Migranian, Karaganov, Arbatov all promoted this line). Their focus was on China, rather than Japan, as the most important partner for Russia in the East. From mid-1992 onwards pragmatists began to be appointed to key posts, signalling a new consensus based around the new pragmatism: this pragmatism ran also to the defence of

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the military–industrial complex and a renewed emphasis on arms sales as a means of earning hard currency. The final draft of the Foreign Policy concept, honed by several different agencies and ministries, and now bearing little of Kozyrev’s input, pointed to attempts to undermine the territorial integrity of the Russian Federation as a threat to Russian national security – a clear riposte to any attempts by Japan to take advantage of Russia’s territorial fragility. China was awarded special status in the concept, as the region’s most important state, in both geopolitical and geoeconomic terms. The emphasis on maintaining Russia’s position in the world arms markets and the West’s continued denial of access to high technology made it clear that Russia’s interests would from now on no longer always coincide with those of the West.

Impact of NATO expansion If the West still held out hope for a return to the heady days of Russian ‘Atlanticism’, the proposed eastward expansion of NATO in 1993 meant that the lid on the coffin of the romance was well and truly nailed shut. Now even more liberal pragmatists such as Aleksei Arbatov surmised that the ‘new political thinking’ had led to ‘NATO vanguards on Russia’s doorstep’.3 Despite El’tsin’s crushing of the opponents of Western-style reform in October 1993, the Russian electorate gave a huge boost to Zhirinovskii’s party in the December elections, signalling their discontent with economic reform and the West’s empty promises of aid. The military’s participation in crushing the defenders of the White House meant that El’tsin was now in their debt, and he accordingly renamed Armed Forces Day, ‘Defence of the Fatherland Day’ in1993. In 1994, while cooperation with China increased, relations with Japan stood at an all-time low, with Japan’s lack of support for Russian participation in the G-7 talks seeming to highlight once again the redundancy of Kozyrev’s conciliatory policies. However, while the relationship with China seemed to go from strength to strength, the pragmatists were well aware of the need to guard against a future threat from its eastern neighbour. Both Karaganov and Arbatov pointed to the potential threat from China, as well as that from NATO, as an argument for retaining strategic nuclear forces.4 The retention of strategic nuclear weapons was also emphasised as a way of compensating for Russia’s weaknesses, as a ‘last vestige of prestige’, in Karaganov’s words.5 The establishment of a separate Border Guards service introduced a new player: the head of the new service emphasised that one of his main tasks would be the preservation of Russian territorial integrity and the protection of Russia’s resources. In 1995 accusations against the West of taking advantage of Russia’s vulnerability were rife. El’tsin advocated greater activity in the East and praised relations with China. From universal human values to national interests The new Russian Foreign Minister Evgenii Primakov, appointed in January 1996, emphasised that Russia should articulate its own national interests, while

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remaining on good terms with the West, as well as with the East. This was termed a policy of ‘equidistance’, based on a sober assessment of Russia’s geopolitical position. Throughout 1996 emphasis was placed on fostering integrative tendencies within the CIS and strengthening Russian territorial integrity. In October the drafting of a new law on borders, as part of a new security concept, rejected any territorial claims by other states. Finally, in December 1997, the new ‘Concept of National Security’ stated explicitly that a priority of Russian foreign policy was ensuring the inviolability of borders and the territorial integrity of the state. This emphasis meant that by the time of his resignation, El’tsin’s exhortation to the regions to take all the independence they could ‘swallow’,6 had come to seem like dangerous separatism, rather than evidence of a new type of open regionalism.

The importance of China The debates over the future of Russian foreign policy were mirrored by debates over the prospect of cooperation with China. It was recognised fairly quickly that building good relations with Japan could after all not happen overnight, and that amicable relations with China were pressing, if only to defuse tensions over the joint border. The miserable level of relations with Japan, and the latter’s economic muscle implied an unequal relationship, with Russia playing the minor role. Relations with China on the other hand, could be portrayed as one of equals, while at the same time providing ‘a theoretical model of an independent policy for Russia’.7 Finally, the question of the foreign policy orientation of the new states of the CIS, in particular the Central Asian ones, was of prime concern to Russia, and this was duly noted in the draft foreign policy concept. Initial reservations over China’s human rights record were soon put on the backburner as dialogue intensified due to the need for continual negotiations over the joint border and the opening up of the border to trade with China. It was not long before the Foreign Ministry’s pre-eminence was placed in doubt by the increasingly high profile of the industrialist lobby. The China factor was a useful card for El’tsin to play in his disagreements with the Supreme Soviet over Russia’s relations with the West and economic reform.

Military industrialist groupings Military contacts, which had resumed already in mid-1992, had a momentum of their own, which sometimes sat uneasily with the earlier reservations of the Foreign Ministry and military assessments of China as a potential threat to Russian security. However, the military contacts were useful in building trust, at least at the elite level, and arms sales could be touted as proof of Russia’s resilience in the face of Western attempts to oust Russia from world markets. In addition, the representatives of the industrialist lobby were able to make a case for continued subsidies to the military–industrial complex, which in regions like the Far East were sometimes the only hope of survival. More worrying perhaps

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to the Ministry of Defence was the sale of production licences to the Chinese, and the fact that Russia has been prepared to sell at significantly below market prices purely to gain a foothold in this promising market. However, developments in the economic sphere by 1997 were taking a downward spiral, and the awarding of the contract for the Three Gorges Dam to a Western conglomerate rather than to Russia showed that the loyalty of the Chinese side could not be guaranteed. This had implications for Russia’s future dominance of the Chinese arms market, as it could not be ruled out that other countries might begin competing with Russia to supply Beijing. It appeared, however, that as long as Russian officials could still make political capital out of such sales, they would continue to be hailed as signs of a major Russian presence in the Asia-Pacific in lieu of economic indicators.

The border in the Far East Russian and Chinese demarcation of the joint border tested the strength of bilateral relations and showed that earlier acceptance by Moscow of separatist tendencies in the Russian Federation as a whole, but in particular in the Russian Far East could no longer be tolerated. Japanese claims on the Kuril islands threw into relief the importance Moscow now placed on territorial integrity. The SinoRussian border negotiations became an important symbol of this integrity – Moscow had to ensure that Tokyo could not seize on the talks to substantiate Japanese claims. The handling of these negotiations was also a test case for centre–periphery relations – a new factor in Russian foreign policy. Moscow now had to take account of public opinion, a lesson it was obliged to learn after the fiasco surrounding El’tsin’s stymied trip to Tokyo in autumn 1992. Russian regions were now increasingly included in talks with Beijing on a variety of topics, which was surely a positive development. Problems related to the influx of Chinese to the Russian Far East emerged as a cause for concern, although figures were often exaggerated for local political reasons. The enduring dilemma in Russian relations with both China and Japan in the Far East persisted: while Moscow needed more than ever to assure its borders, at the same time regional initiatives tend to emphasise porous borders – for example, the Tumen river project, and Japanese ideas about the future of the region. Many criticised the demilitarisation of the border area, arguing that China might one day reassert territorial claims to the Russian Far East. If Russia was ever to transform this erstwhile military bastion into an economic powerhouse, it was argued, demilitarisation was an essential prerequisite; but Russian geopolitical concerns about China means that the transformation of the Far East into a viable investment opportunity will take many decades. China’s continued need for weapons led to a suspension of conversion efforts in the defence enterprises of the region, further decreasing the attraction for outside investors and delaying the building of essential infrastructure.

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Uncertainties Russia and China’s permanent membership of the United Nations Security Council reinforced the sense that here were two great powers able to influence the course of international politics, perhaps even to counteract American hegemony. Despite the joint condemnation of a US-dominated unipolar world in favour of a multipolar one, it was not entirely clear that China would make room for Russia to be one of these poles, or whether a new Pax Sinica would emerge. Old Russian fears of a Sinocentric system of international relations could yet be realised, although this is still a long way off. One of the mainstays of Chinese nationalism, which appears to be on the increase, is the need to redress territorial injustices, which may mean Chinese actions in the South China Seas or around Taiwan. However, this is not necessarily of immediate concern to Russia. Of far greater significance to Russia is Chinese policy in Central Asia. China’s energy needs could in future be met by the vast oil reserves of this region, which could bring it into conflict with Russia in a tussle over control of oil and gas pipelines. In the early to mid-1990s China’s profile in the region was not significant, but that began to change with the growth of Chinese economic and military power, allied to its greater energy needs. Before 9/11 China was happy to let Russia ‘police’ the area, thus assuaging concerns regarding a spillover of Islamic fundamentalism into Greater China. However, China could make economic cooperation attractive, luring the landlocked Central Asian states with promises of integration into the Asia-Pacific via China with its outlet onto the Pacific. American suspicions of Russian motives vis-à-vis CIS integration in the 1990s meant that Washington sponsored Turkey, a NATO member, as its main partner in Central Asia, and others even suggested China, if that could put a stop to ‘excessive Russian influence’ there.8 The four-way agreements on troop reductions and confidence building signed in 1996 were a significant milestone in regional security terms and for Moscow, Beijing’s recognition of Russia’s role as a guarantor of stability in Central Asia was of immeasurable value. In the Asia-Pacific the image was reversed: here China was the main player, taking a key role in settling issues around the Korean peninsula, while Russia remained marginalised in political terms. China’s preference was to maintain the status quo on the peninsula, while Russia would welcome reunification. The reanimation of the US–Japan security alliance, and in particular plans to create a theatre missile defence around Japan, remained of great concern to China, and ostensibly to Russia, although it might have cause to welcome this as a means of checking China. Indeed the regional ambivalence regarding China’s role in the APR mirrors that of Moscow’s neighbours in Central Eurasia: China’s presence is a counterweight to the US–Japanese alliance, but at the same time, China remains an unknown quantity. There was an inherent disequilibrium between the two powers in the El’tsin years: Russia was a democracy, however imperfect, while China remained an authoritarian power, which could yet use force to redress territorial grievances.

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Japan and Russian territorial integrity If Russia had no choice but to engage with China, due to the urgency of demarcating the border, in the case of Japan it soon became clear that active dialogue would be far more difficult to construct, while the territorial issue continued to dominate relations. Japanese intransigence was seen as largely to blame for the subsequent polarisation of the debate over Russia’s ‘Asian orientation’. The fixation on the territorial issue made it impossible to escape the past and turn over a new page in relations. As the issue of territorial integrity within the former republics, and the Russian Federation itself (Kaliningrad and Chechnia, for example) became more salient, making concessions to Tokyo came to seem ever more dangerous. The fact that Russia could not be assured of the prospect of future Japanese investments made a transfer of territory even more unlikely. In the struggle with his domestic critics moreover, El’tsin could not contemplate any moves that might appear to sanction the exchange of territory for economic gain. The Japanese overestimated the Russians’ desire for investment in the Far East and underestimated the importance of Russian territorial integrity, while the Russians overestimated the Japanese need for Russian resources, and underestimated Japanese stubbornness vis-à-vis sekei fukabun. Unlike the demarcation of the Sino-Russian border, which was but one issue among many in bilateral relations, in Russo-Japanese relations there were no further opportunities for convergence between Tokyo and Moscow bar the islands. Russia’s rapprochement with China, and the mooted expansion of NATO meant there was soon little room left on the foreign policy agenda for relations with Japan. However, eventually there was recognition that small but significant steps such as negotiations on fishing rights would help to improve dialogue. The dismissal of Kozyrev and the appointment of Primakov, who declared Russian national interests rather than universal human values as the main priority of his ministry, made it clear that there would be no concessions on the islands. The new foreign minister’s emphasis on frankness highlighted the gridlocked nature of Russo-Japanese relations, in contrast to the lively and frequent Russo-Chinese interchanges. Primakov’s insistence that the territorial dispute was not up for discussion forced Tokyo to reconsider its Russia policy. The drafting of a document rejecting all territorial claims against the Russian Federation confirmed this policy. As far as Moscow was concerned, the matter was closed.

The El’tsin era: towards a balanced foreign policy in the East? 1996 and 1997 saw substantial changes in the Russo-Japanese relationship: political dialogue increased, as did confidence-building measures in the military sphere. The Russian insistence on taking the territorial issue off the agenda had paid dividends; now, it was hoped, Russia could truly begin to speak of a ‘balanced foreign policy’ in the East.

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In the international sphere difficulties in bilateral relations translated into lack of dialogue on global issues. Here, once more, Japan refused to separate economics and politics. Russia’s pledge to overcome the Soviet legacy was fraught with problems. In its bid to remain a great power, Russia could point only to its UN Security Council seat and its nuclear weapons – in terms of economic power Russia was no match for Japan. This disequilibrium dogged attempts at dialogue in the international arena. Thus Russia continued to be reluctant to support the Japanese desire for a permanent Security Council seat, while Japan denied Russia a role in the G-7. Russian optimism that improved relations with Tokyo would mean the economic rejuvenation of the Russian Far East and hence economic integration with the Asia-Pacific appeared groundless. Attempts to maintain Russian military potential were described as necessary to compensate for Russia’s low economic profile. Russian military analysts pointed to Japan’s economic power as boosting Japan’s political confidence, which could be translated into military power. For this reason, the analysts argued, Russia should not make cuts in its Pacific Fleet as any resulting vacuum could later be filled by Japan. There was now a new dimension to Russo-Japanese relations: both played the China card. Thus, Russia, aware of Beijing’s opposition to the granting of a permanent UN Security Council seat to Japan, relented, in the hope of economic dividends from Tokyo. By the same token, Japan drew unfavourable comparisons between China and Russia’s economic progress when the subject of G-7 membership arose. While Russia’s rapprochement with China provided compelling reasons for the USA and Japan to increase security commitments in the Asia-Pacific, there were also compelling reasons for Japan to engage with Russia. (Japan’s support for Russian membership of APEC is a case in point.) Hashimoto’s Eurasia speech was certainly linked to the closer relations between Beijing and Moscow, as Japanese analysts have acknowledged. Some suggested that in the future Japan might begin to invest in the Russian Far East in order to forestall a longterm Chinese presence. However, the main pre-requisite was still for Russia to drop some of its suspicions regarding Japanese economic management and accept ‘open regionalism’, then a Far East with Japanese capital is not inconceivable. However, it seemed clear that if Russia continued to fail to provide the necessary economic conditions and financial incentives there, then the Chinese shuttle traders might be the only foreign economic presence. Regarding China, there were lingering fears about Chinese intentions towards the Russian Far East, as Chapter 3 has shown. Russian arms sales to China were mainly based on economic rather than strategic considerations, while potentially placing in jeopardy Russia’s own security. For now, however, Russian fears focused more on issues such as illegal immigration and border concessions rather than longer-term territorial demands. This analysis has shown that during El’tsin’s presidency, Sino-Russian rapprochement, though prickly, and beset with problems, worked better in terms of legitimising Russian foreign policy within the elite, but also in terms of Russian national identity and role problems. Under El’tsin, this was principally because of Russia’s ambivalent relationship

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with the West: until this relationship had been regulated, in both economic and political terms, China would continue to appeal to that part of the elite for whom Western economic power rankled.

Russia, China and Japan: Putin’s dilemmas Putin has worked hard to build on the gains made during El’tsin’s tenure, in particular in the economic sphere. The energy agenda is key to Putin’s ‘economisation’ of foreign policy, but the question remains as to whether this is a strategic vision or merely a tactical game. The key to becoming an energy superpower rather than merely a ‘raw materials appendage’ is for Russia to set the rules of the game – at the domestic level talk of being such an appendage is not mere rhetoric. This is a very widespread popular fear: under El’tsin such views were, however, not widely broadcast by anyone other than ultranationalists and neo-Eurasianists, but now such views have become almost axiomatic. As one article in a government newspaper stresses, ‘a raw materials appendage follows the world markets but a power participates in the crafting of a global energy strategy’.9 In order to revitalise the Russian Far East strategic vision is required: this entails a firm commitment from central government coupled with clear investment strategies and making the region attractive to foreign investors. Instead, in the energy sphere Putin has implemented policies designed to keep foreign investors at arm’s length, while reaping the benefits for home-grown companies. Foreign Minister Lavrov stresses the importance of a clear strategy for the Russian Far East but he notes that those who think this can only be undertaken in the framework of a multilateral investment ‘takeover’ of Siberia and the Far East, are mistaken. Lavrov stresses that ‘internationalising’ the country’s internal development is reminiscent of another era, the implication being that this approach smacks of colonialism.10 Unlike China, Russia does not take the regional approach seriously – its ultimate goal is to be a global player, not simply a regional one. China sees long-term economic integration as part of a strategy that will not only lead to more balanced regional development within China itself, but can also mitigate the effect of territorial problems and disputes for the PRC. For this reason the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation is of vital importance to China: it is part and parcel of this strategy. The longer-term vision for the SCO is key: if Chinese power increases to the extent that it can link in existing SCO structures to Asia-Pacific ones, then China will be able to dominate economic policies. Divergent understandings of human rights in the region may bring China and Russia into conflict with the United States, but if Russia succeeds in reestablishing its influence here via the expansion of energy networks, then this will hardly matter. As Andrew Hurrell points out, regions can be a source of weakness as well as a source of strength, perhaps due to unresolved conflicts, or an overall difficulty in maintaining influence.11 This is particularly true of Russia and interdependence can therefore increase vulnerabilities; this may explain why Francis

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Fukuyama, writing about the relationship between China and Japan suggests that economic interdependence ‘has not mitigated nationalist passions, but exacerbated them’.12 Fukuyama is speaking of China and Japan, but one might equally apply this to Russia. For Japan, building networks in the region is essential, and Tokyo’s view is as follows: ‘The idea that nations are isolated in hard shells . . . promotes not conversations but confrontations. What has made Asia quintessentially Asia is its free and open network. . .’13 Putin’s plan for Russia’s economic growth based on demand for Russian energy, and driven by state-run monopolies, requires a strong and centralised state. As Aleksei Pushkov says, Putin is successful because ‘he has offered to Russia a national idea that was absent during the Yeltsin era, which is that of Russia’s revival’.14 The disparity between this view of Asia and Russia’s geopolitical and geoeconomic emphasis is striking. As far as prospects for Russo-Japanese energy cooperation are concerned, there is still ambivalence in Tokyo. This ambivalence is not necessarily connected to the territorial dispute, but is based on concerns that oil reserves in Siberia may be less than was thought, as well as a lack of confidence in the Russian government’s ability to provide the requisite conditions for investment. If the Kurils are to be transformed, then not only structural constraints will need to be eased, but domestic policies too. As the opportunities for convergence have been minimal, the territorial dispute remained a festering wound that could constantly be massaged to erupt and make rapprochement problematic. The overall conclusion may be that neither Japan nor Russia have need of each other. Relations will remain at a low level, basic co-existence, not active cooperation. This is not helped by Russia’s view of its resource sector which is that resources are ‘fixed sources of wealth worthy only of redistribution’. An alternative view sees resources as ‘an inventory to be added to by exploration and development’ which would mean Russia opening up to foreign investment rather than closing off the region as it now appears to be doing.15 Putin’s obsession with centralisation to regain control of resource rents has meant a lack of restructuring of the Soviet-style economy and unstable property rights, factors not conducive to investment. Moscow has decided now to build the Eastern Siberian pipeline itself rather than looking to either Chinese or Japanese investment. The outcome is difficult to predict, but if the long-term trend really is to close the region off to foreign investment, this could have negative repercussions for any regeneration of the Russian Far East’s economy. Ultimately, the global level is where Russia feels most at ease, where it can assert itself as a great power, or at least a future ‘superpower in waiting’. At the regional level Russia is less sure of itself: for this reason, Russia is not content to be a mere player on the Asian stage, and any discussion of Asia requires a reiteration of Russia’s role as a ‘cultural–civilisational bridge’ which is ‘in the interests of the entire global community’.16 As Foreign Minister Lavrov stresses, however, it is important that ‘our partners do not take our role as meaning that they can use this “bridge” to their own advantage and without taking Russia’s interests into account’.17 While China has not yet assumed superpower status nor

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yet seeks to assume a fully active role in international affairs, such a role may be possible, but if China does begin to take its international responsibilities seriously, Russia may have to adjust its policies. Japan is another candidate for possible superpower status, and if allowed to take on more responsibility in global affairs, this would have major repercussions. Japan is already showing signs of trying to take a more active global role, for example in 2007 it launched the notion of a ‘value oriented diplomacy’ in foreign policy, and the creation of an ‘arc of freedom and prosperity’, aimed particularly at Southeast Asia, Central Asia and Ukraine.18 A stronger Japan would be evidence of evolution towards a multipolar world, a favourite axiom of both China and Russia. However, it is not clear that either would, in reality, welcome such a development, particularly any kind of norm-driven policy, and its long-term implications for the distribution of power in the region. Finally, how Japan and China use their economic and political power will largely determine the shape of the Northeast Asian region. However, Russia should ensure it has a strategy in place for the redevelopment of the Far East, otherwise the region may become, not a window onto the AsiaPacific but a backwater of China.

Notes

1 Introduction 1 See A.J.R. Groom, ‘Introduction: The Past as Prelude’, in A.J.R. Groom and Margot Light (eds) Contemporary International Relations: A Guide to Theory, London and New York: Pinter Publishers, 1994, pp. 1–7, p. 2. 2 See Gary Klintworth, ‘China and East Asia’, in Ramesh Thakur and Carlyle Thayer (eds) Reshaping Regional Relations: Asia-Pacific and the Former Soviet Union, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993, pp. 125–52, p. 144. 3 William F. Tow, ‘Regional Order in Asia-Pacific’, in Thakur and Thayer (eds), Reshaping p. 267. 4 Igor’ Chubais (brother of Anatolii Chubais), interviewed by John Thornhill, ‘A crisis of ideas is the real trouble with Russia, says the other Chubais’, Financial Times, Weekend, 3 October/4 October, 1998. 5 See Andrei Kozyrev, ‘MID predlagaet i otstaivaet vneshniuiu politiku dlia Rossi: V natsional’nykh interesakh respubliki’, Rossiiskie vesti, 3 December 1992. 6 Pavel Baev, The Russian Army in a Time of Troubles, Oslo: PRIO, International Peace Research Institute, 1996, p. 4. 7 Jennifer Anderson, The Limits of Sino-Russian Strategic Partnership, Oxford: Oxford University Press for the International Institute of Strategic Studies, Adelphi Paper 315, 1997. 8 For example, Stephen J. Blank and Alvin Z. Rubinstein (eds) Imperial Decline: Russia’s Changing Role in Asia, Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press, 1997. Also: Michael Mandelbaum (ed.) The Strategic Quadrangle: Russia, China, Japan and the United States in East Asia, New York: Council on Foreign Relations Press, 1995. 9 Thakur and Thayer (eds) Reshaping. 10 Jonathan Haslam and Andrew Kuchins (eds) Russia and Japan: An Unresolved Dilemma Between Neighbours, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1993. 11 Kimie Hara, Japanese–Soviet/Russian Relations Since 1945: A Difficult Peace, London: Routledge Japanese Studies, Nissan Institute, 1998. 12 James E. Goodby et al. (eds) Northern Territories and Beyond. Russian, Japanese and American Perspectives, Westport, CT and London: Praeger, 1995. 13 Jeanne Wilson, Strategic Partners: Russian–Chinese Relations in the Post-Soviet Era, Armonk, NY and London: M.E. Sharpe, 2004. 14 Sherman W. Garnett (ed.) Rapprochement or Rivalry? Russia–China Relations in a Changing Asia, Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2000; Gennady Chufrin (ed.) Russia and Asia: The Emerging Security Agenda, Oxford: SIPRI, 1999. 15 Alexander Lukin, The Bear Watches the Dragon: Russia’s Perceptions of China and the Evolution of Russian–Chinese Relations Since the Eighteenth Century, Armonk,

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23 24 25 26 27 28 29

Notes

NY: M.E. Sharpe and Akihiro Iwashita, A 4,000 Kilometer Journey Along the SinoRussian Border, Sapporo: Slavic Research Center, Hokkaido, 2004. On the RussoChinese border see also Elizabeth Wishnick, Mending Fences with China: The Evolution of Moscow’s China Policy, 1969–94, Armonk, NY and London: M.E. Sharpe, 1997. See his various articles as listed in the bibliography. M.L. Titarenko, Rossiia i vostochnaia Aziia. Voprosy mzhdunarodnykh i mezhtsivilizatsionnykh otnoshenii, ‘POO Fabula’, Moscow, 1994. Igor’ Latyshev, Kto i kak prodaet Rossiiu. Khronika rossiisko-iaponskikh territorial’nykh torgov (1991–1994 godov), Moscow: Paleia, 1994. Also his later Putin i Iaponiia: Budut li ustupki?, Moscow: Algoritm, 2005. V.S. Miasnikov, Dogovornymi stat’iami utverdili. Diplomaticheskaia istoriia russko-kitaiskogo granitsy, XVII-XX vv, Moscow: Institut Dal’nego Vostoka RAN, 1996. See annual address, in Rossiiskaia gazeta, 19 April 2002, CDPSP, vol. 54, no. 16, 15 May 2002. See National Security Strategy of the United States of America, March 2006. See in particular the Obzor vneshnei politiki Rossiskoi Federatsii (Survey of Foreign Policy of the Russian Federation), published by the MID in March 2007, available at www.mid.ru/brp_4.nsf/sps/690A2BAF968B1FA4C3257B100304A6E, accessed 02.04.2007. See Bobo Lo, ‘The Economic Agenda’, Chapter Four of Vladimir Putin and the Evolution of Russian Foreign Policy, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing for the Royal Institute of International Affairs, London, 2003, pp. 51–72. E.G. Solovyev, ‘Geopolitics in Russia – science or vocation?’, Communist and PostCommunist Studies, vol. 37, no. 1, March 2004, pp. 85–96, p. 88. See ‘Ekspansiia dvuglavyogo orela’, Rossiiskaia gazeta, 28 June 2006, reproduced at www.globalaffairs.ru/articles/5764.html, 29.06.2006. See Putin’s annual address, 2004, at www.kremlin.ru/appears/2004/05/26/2003type63372type63374–71501.shtml accessed: 01.03.2005. Richard Pape, cited in Andrew Hurrell, ‘Hegemony, liberalism and global order’, International Affairs, vol. 82, no. 1, January 2006, pp. 1–21, p. 15. See Zhao Hua-Chen, Kitai, Tsentral’naia Aziia i Shankhaiskaia Organizatsiia Sotrudnichestva, Moscow: Carnegie Moscow Center, Working Papers no. 5, 2005, p. 13. S. Neil MacFarlane, ‘The “R” in BRICs: is Russia an emerging power?’, International Affairs (London), vol. 82, no. 1, January 2006, pp. 41–57, p. 43.

2 Russian policy towards China under El’tsin 1 El’tsin speaking just prior to his departure for Beijing to attend the first RussoChinese summit. BBC Summary of World Broadcast (SWB), Xinhua News Agency, in English, 2103 GMT, 16 December 1992. 2 Russian TV, 1855 GMT, 3 March 1992, SWB, SU/1321 A1/4, 5 March 1992. 3 Peter Ferdinand, ‘Working towards a serious partnership with China’, Transition, 22 September 1995, pp. 8–11, and p. 68, p. 10. 4 Hung P. Nguyen, ‘Russia and China: the genesis of an eastern Rapallo’, Asian Survey, vol. 33, no. 3, March 1993, pp. 285–301, p. 297; the trip is also noted by Eugene Bazhanov in his chapter ‘Russian Policy Toward China’, in Peter Shearman (ed.) Russian Foreign Policy Since 1990, Boulder, CO: Westview, 1995, pp. 159–81, p. 169. 5 Lukin, speaking at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MID) conference in February 1992, ‘Preobrazhennaia Rossii v novom mire’, proceedings reproduced in Mezhdunarodnaia zhizn’, nos 3–4, 1992, pp. 86–113.

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6 Lukin, speaking at the MID conference in February 1992. 7 Perhaps not surprising given Kozyrev’s background in West European affairs, and his deputy Kunadze’s expertise on Japan. 8 Goncharov, ‘Osobye interesy Rossii . . .’, Izvestiia, 25 February 1992. 9 See Sergei Stankevich, ‘Derzhava v poiskakh sebia’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 28 March 1992. 10 Iurii Savenkov on Kozyrev’s trip to Beijing, ‘30 chasov A. Kozyreva v Pekine’, Izvestiia, 18 March 1992. 11 Leszek Buszyinski, Gorbachev and Southeast Asia, London and New York: Routledge, 1992, p. 172. 12 Mikhail Titarenko, ‘Kitai v postdengovskuiu epokhu i rossiisko-kitaiskie otnosheniia’, in Mezhdunarodnaia zhizn’, no. 8, 1995, pp. 27–36, p. 36. 13 Arkadii Vol’skii interviewed in Newsweek magazine, 1992. Cited by Bazhanov in Shearman (ed.), pp. 166–7. 14 A. Muradian, ‘Evraziiskaia kontseptsiia – model’ rossiiskogo obshchestvennogo razvitiia Rosssii?’, in Problemy dal’nego vostoka, nos 1–3, 1992, pp. 39–50, p. 48. 15 Cited in Konstantin Eggert, ‘Rossiia v roli “evraziiskogo zhandarma” ’? Predsedatel’ parlamentskogo Komiteta razrabotal svoiu kontseptsiiu vneshnei politiki’, Izvestiia, 7 August 1992. 16 Lukin, speaking at the Supreme Soviet hearings on Russian Foreign Policy, held on 22 October 1992, published in Diplomaticheskii vestnik (DV), nos 21–2, 15–30 November 1992, pp. 32–58, p. 50. 17 Andrei Kozyrev, ‘MID predlagaet i otstaivaet vneshniuiu politiku dlia Rossii: V natsional’nykh interesakh respubliki’, Rossiiskie vesti, 3 December 1992. 18 Cited in Professor Xu Kui (of the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences), Russia’s Relations with Central Asia and China and the Question of Integration into the Asian Economy, IREX Scholar Papers, 31 January 1996, p. 7. The five principles of peaceful co-existence were: territorial integrity, mutual non-aggression, noninterference in internal affairs, equality and mutual benefit, and peaceful coexistence. Listed in Andrew J. Nathan and Robert S. Ross, The Great Wall and the Empty Fortress: China’s Search for Security, New York and London: W.W. Norton, 1997, p. 4. 19 Bazhanov in Shearman (ed.), Russian foreign policy p. 164. 20 Interfax, Moscow, in English, 1200 GMT, 31 January 1992, SWB, SU/1294 C1/2, 3 February 1992. 21 Eugene Bazhanov and Natasha Bazhanov, ‘Russia and Asia in 1993’, in Asian Survey, vol. 36, no. 1, January 1994, pp. 87–97, p. 88. 22 Yan Xuetong, ‘China’s post-Cold War security strategy’, Contemporary International Relations, Beijing: China Institute of Contemporary International Relations, vol. 5, no. 5, May 1995, p. 12. 23 OMRI Daily Digest, no. 246, 20 December 1995. 24 Cited by John W. Garver, ‘Sino-Russian Relations’, in Samuel Kim (ed.) China and the World: Chinese Foreign Policy Faces the New Millennium (Fourth Edition), Boulder, CO: Westview, 1998, pp. 114–32, p. 115. 25 Yan Xuetong, ‘China’s post-Cold War security strategy’, p. 13. 26 David M. Lampton, ‘China and the Strategic Quadrangle’, in Michael Mandelbaum (ed.) The Strategic Quadrangle: Russia, China, Japan and the United States, New York: Council on Foreign Relations Press, 1995, pp. 63–107, p. 81. 27 See the report in DV, no. 7, April 1992, pp. 19–20. 28 See Bates Gill and Taheo Kim, China’s Arms Acquisitions From Abroad: A Quest for Superb and Secret Weapons, New York: Oxford University Press for SIPRI, 1995, ‘Chronology: Sino-Soviet Visits’, p. 147.

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29 Xinhua News Agency, in English, 1655 GMT, 24 November 1992, SWB, SU/1549 A1/2, 27 November 1992. 30 See Pavel Shikarenko, ‘Soobshchaem podrobnosti: chto skazal El’tsin rossiiskim diplomatam’, Rossiiskie vesti, 29 October 1992. 31 See, for example, the interview with Kunadze by Mikhail Karpov, ‘ “Interesam Rossii otvechaet stabil’nyi i protsvetaiushchii Kitai” – utverdaet zamestitel’ ministr inostrannykh del RF Georgii Kunadze nakanune vizita B.N. El’tsina v Pekin’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 10 December 1992. 32 Trade figures are notoriously unreliable. Thus Tsuneo Akaha (Tsuneo Akaha, Pavel A. Minakir and Kunio Okada, ‘Economic Challenge in the Russian Far East’, in Tsuneo Akaha, Politics and Economics in the Russian Far East, London and New York: Routledge, 1997, pp. 49–69, p. 58), apparently citing MFEA figures gives a total of 4.4065 billion, while the IMF gives the higher total cited here. 33 Garver, ‘Sino-Russian Relations’, in Kim (ed.), 1998, p. 126. 34 See statement by Foreign Ministry on 24 January, published in DV, nos 4–5, 29 February–15 March 1992, p. 73. 35 Bazhanov in Shearman (ed.), Russian Foreign Policy p. 177. 36 The decree was published in Rossiiskaia gazeta, 19 September 1992. 37 Radio Moscow World Service, in Standard Chinese, 0900 GMT, 17 September 1992, SWB, SU/1491 A1/6, 21 September 1992. 38 Vasilii Kononenko and Vladimir Skosyrev, ‘Rossiisko-kitaiskoe deklaratsiia po sushestvu ravnosilna paktu o nenapadenii’, Izvestiia, 21 December 1992. 39 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow World Service, in Russian, 0305 GMT, 17 December 1992, SWB, FE/1567 A1/1, 18 December 1992. 40 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow World Service, in Russian 0941 GMT, 18 December 1992, SWB, FE/1568 A1/2, 19 December 1992. 41 See DV, ‘Vizit B.N. El’tsina v KNR’, nos 1–2, January 1993, pp. 11–15, p. 12. 42 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow World Service, in English, 1301 GMT, 18 December 1992, SWB, FE/1569 A1/8, 21 December 1992. 43 Russia’ TV Channel Moscow, in Russian, 1121 GMT, 29 January 1993, SWB, FE/1601 C!/1, 1 February 1993. 44 See ‘Vizit B.N. El’tsina v KNR’, DV nos 1–2, January 1993, pp. 11–15, p. 13. 45 ITAR-TASS World Service, 0736 GMT, 17 August 1993, SWB, SU/1770 C2/1, 18 August 1993. 46 Interfax, Moscow, in English, 1559 GMT, 12 July 1993, SWB, SU/1740 A1/2, 14 July 1993. 47 Interfax, in English, 1039 GMT, 30 May 1994, FBIS-SOV-94–104, 31 May 1994. 48 I.P. Rybkin, Rossiia obretet soglasie, Moscow: Mezhdunarodnyi gumanitarnyi fond ‘Znanie’, Mezhregional’nyi fond ‘Soglasie’, 1997, p. 467. 49 DV, nos 9–10, May 1994, pp. 86–7. 50 ‘Strategiia dlia Rossii (II)’, published in Nezavisimaia gazeta, 27 May 1994. 51 See DV, no. 10, October 1994, nos 19–20, pp. 16–19. 52 Figure given by Tsuneo Akaha et al., ‘Economic Challenge’, in Tsuneo Akaha (ed.), Politics and Economics pp. 49–69, p 58. 53 DV, no. 10, October 1994, nos 19–20, pp. 16–19. 54 Vladimir Lukin, ‘Ni bratskoi liubvi, ni bratskoi nenavisti’, Moskovskie novosti, 4–11 September 1994, p. 5. 55 See Diplomaticheskii vestnik, nos 21–2, 15–30 November 1992, pp. 23–7. 56 ITAR-TASS World Service, in Russian, 1234 GMT, 27 May 1994, FBIS-SOV94–104, 31 May 1994. 57 From FBIS, Interfax, 11 June 1992, cited in Theodore W. Karasik (ed.) Russia and Eurasia Facts and Figures Annual 1992, vol. 18, Gulf Breeze, FL: Academic International Press, 1993, p. 196.

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58 Akaha et al., ‘Economic Challenge’, in Akaha (ed.) Politics and Economics 1997, p. 58. 59 Rossiiskii statisticheskii ezhegodnik 1997, Moscow: Goskomstat Rossii, 1998. 60 Vladimir Skosyrev, ‘Pekin otvergal “soiuznicheskie” predlozheniia Gracheva’, Izvestiia, 20 May 1995. 61 Vladimir Abarinov, ‘Rossiia i Kitai: novoe sblizhenie k piku Zapadu. Na peregovorakh Li Pena s Viktorom Chernomyrdinym i Borisom El’tsinym dostignuto “polnoe ponimanie” ’, Segodnia, 28 June 1995. 62 Vladimir Abarinov, ‘Rossiia i Kitai: novoe sblizhenie k piku Zapadu. Na peregovorakh Li Pena s Viktorom Chernomyrdinym i Borisom El’tsinym dostignuto “polnoe ponimanie” ’, Segodnia, 28 June 1995. 63 DV, nos 7–8, 1995, p. 49. 64 Grachev, cited in Iurii Golotiuk, ‘Pavel Grachev poobeshchal pomoch’ Gretsii ovladet’ sovetskim oruzhiem. Rossiiskii ministr prigrozil otvetit’ na rasshirenie NATO perekhodom Rossii k “zhestkoi oborone” ’, Segodnia, 1 November 1995. 65 Aleksei Voskresenskii, ‘Kitai: soiuznik ili protivnik?’, Segodnia, 30 September 1995. 66 Interfax News Agency, Moscow, in English, 1113 GMT, 7 January 1997, SWB, SU/2811 B/6, 8 January 1997. 67 DV, no. 8, August 1995, p. 77. 68 ‘Iz poslaniia prezidenta Rossiiskoi federatsii federal’nomu sobraniiu’, DV, 23 February 1996, p. 3. 69 Interview with Primakov in Rossiiskaia gazeta, 10 January 1997. 70 DV, no. 5, 1996, ‘Vizit B.N. El’tsina v KNR’, pp. 16–21. 71 DV, no. 5, 1997, ‘Vizit Tszian Tszeminiia v Rossiiu’. Rossiisko-kitaiskaia sovmestanaia deklaratsiia o mnogopoliarnom mire i formirovanii novogo mezhdunardonogo poriadka’, pp. 19–21. 72 Rossiiskii statisticheskii ezhegodnik 1997. 73 Russell Working, ‘Russia, China eager for trade growth’, Vladivostok News (web edition), 12 October 1998, at www.vladivostoknews.ru. 74 Russell Working, ‘Russia, China eager for trade growth’, Vladivostok News (web edition), 12 October 1998, at www.vladivostoknews.ru. 75 Aleksandr Platkovskii, ‘Milliardnykh sdelok s Kitaem ne budet’, Izvestiia, 25 October 1997. 76 ITAR-TASS World Service, in Russian, Moscow, 1333 GMT, 23 November 1998, FBIS-SOV-98–327. 77 See ‘Russian–Chinese Statement’, Moscow, ITAR-TASS, in Russian 0450 GMT 10 December 1999, 10 December 1999, FBIS-SOV-1999–1210. 78 See Gill and Kim, China’s Arms Acquisitions, p. 146. 79 Gill and Kim, China’s Arms Acquisitions, pp. 52–3. 80 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow World Service, 0918 GMT, 31 August 1992, SWB, SU/1474 A1/3, 1 September 1992. 81 Xinhua News Agency, in English, 0337 GMT, 10 December 1992, SWB, FE/1561 A1/1, 11 December 1992. 82 Garver, ‘Sino-Russian Relations’, in Kim (ed.), p. 121. 83 El’tsin speaking to journalists in Beijing, from Vneshniaia politika Rossiia: sbornik dokumentov. 1990–1992, Moscow: ‘Mezhdunarodnye otnosheniia’, Document no. 265, ‘Press-konferentsiia prezidenta B. N. El’tsina v Pekine’, pp. 582–9, p. 585. 84 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow World Service in English, 1301 GMT, 18 December 1992, SWB, FE/1569 A1/8, 21 December 1992. 85 Gill and Kim, China’s Arms Acquisitions, p. 59. 86 Sergei Iastrzhembskii, Ministry of Foreign Affairs spokesman, ITAR-TASS, Moscow, World Service, 1347 GMT, 3 December 1992, SWB, SU/1556 A1/1, 6 December 1992.

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87 Viktor Glukhikh, speaking at a news conference, ITAR-TASS, 22 January 1993, SWB, SU/1593 C2/3, 22 January 1992. 88 ITAR-TASS World Service, in English, 1221 GMT, 18 February 1993, SWB, SU/1624 C1/4, 27 February 1992. 89 Sergey Kortunov, ‘The Influence of External Factors on Russia’s Arms Export Policy’, in Ian Anthony (ed.) Russia and the Arms Trade, Oxford: Oxford University Press for SIPRI, 1998, pp. 93–106, p. 100. 90 ‘Press-konferentsiia B.N. El’tsina v Pekine’, pp. 582–9, p. 584. 91 Kyodo News Service, Tokyo, in English, 1419 GMT, 16 December 1992, SWB, FE/1568 A1/6, 19 December 1992. 92 Kozyrev, ‘Ministerstvo inostrannykh del predlagaet. . .’ 93 ‘Vystuplenie A.V. Kozyreva na sovmestnom zasedanii palat Verkhovnogo Soveta RF’, 12 February 1993, DV, nos 5–6, March 1993. 94 See Alla Glebova, ‘Rossiia ispol’zuet novuiu tekhnologiiu, rynki oruzhiia’, Kommersant’, 16 April 1993. 95 Interview with V. Brailovskii, president of Spetsvneshtekhnika, ‘Chtoby maslo sest’, nado prodat’ oruzhiia’, Trud, 30 March 1993. 96 RIA News Agency, Moscow, in English, 1908 GMT, 5 May 1993, SWB, SU/1682 C2/1, 7 May 1993. 97 Krasnaia zvezda (untitled report), 12 August 1993. 98 V Tsentral’nom apparate MID, RF, Zaiavleniia. Statement by the MID, 5 April 1994, DV, nos 8–9, May 1994, p. 62. 99 Interfax, Moscow, in English, 1054 GMT, 9 August 1993, SWB, SU/1771 C3/1, 19 August 1993. 100 ITAR-TASS World Service, 17 August, 0736 GMT, SWB, SU/1773 C1/1, 21 August 1993. 101 Interfax, Moscow, in English, 19 August 1993, 1246 GMT, SWB, SU/1774 C2/2, 23 August 1993. 102 See Alexander A. Sergounin and Sergey V. Subbotin, ‘Sino-Russian Military– Technical Cooperation: A Russian View’, in Anthony (ed.) Russia and the Arms Trade, pp. 194–216, p. 208. 103 Konstantin Makienko, ‘Opasno li torgovat’ oruzhiem s Kitaem?’, Pro et Contra, vol. 3, no. 1, Winter 1998, pp. 41–58, p. 45. 104 Sergounin and Subbotin in Anthony (ed.), Russia and the Arms Trade p. 213. 105 Author’s interview with anonymous official, Moscow, October 1997. 106 Gill and Kim, China’s Arms Acquisitions, p. 61. 107 Sergounin and Subbotin, ‘Sino-Russian Military–Technical Cooperation’, p. 204. 108 Richard F. Staar, The New Military in Russia: Ten Myths that Shape the Image, Annapolis, Maryland: Naval Institute Press, 1996, p. 104. 109 Interfax News Agency, Moscow, in English, 1538 GMT, 10 November 1997, SWB, SU/3074 S1/3, 12 November 1997. 110 Makienko, ‘Opasno li torgovat’ s Kitaem?’, p. 46. 111 See Jamestown Monitor, vol. 3, no. 79, 22 April 1997. See also, ‘V Kitae poiaviatsia nashi “Moskity” ’, Krasnaia zvezda, 28 November 1997, p. 3. 112 Stephen J. Blank, ‘Russia Looks at China’, in Stephen J. Blank and Alvin Z. Rubinstein (eds) Imperial Decline: Russia’s Changing Role in Asia, Durham, NC, and London: Duke University Press, 1997, pp. 65–98, p. 77. 113 David Shambaugh, ‘Chinese hegemony over East Asia by the year 2015?’, in Korean Journal of Defense Analysis, vol. 9, no. 1, Summer 1997, pp. 7–29, p. 25. 114 ‘Oni postroili podvodnye lodki, a okonchilis’ skovorodami’, Komsomol’skaia pravda, 25 October 1994. On the other hand, Sergounin and Subbotin maintain that the Kilo class submarine deal prevented this particular factory from financial collapse and an all-out strike by its workers.

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115 Cited by Pavel Fel’gengauer, ‘Torgovlia oruzhiem ne tak vygodno dlia Rossii, kak utverzhdaet “Rosvooruzhenie”. Davnie partnery sklonny platit’ za podlodki obuv’iu, novye-razocharovanny dostizheniem rossiiskikh tankov v Chechne’, Segodnia, 10 March 1995. 116 Interfax News Agency, Moscow, in English, 1538 GMT, 10 November 1997, SWB, SU/3074 S1/3, 12 November 1993. 117 Maria Bogatykh, ‘Strategicheskoe bel’e. Torgovlia russkogo oruzhiia na kitaiskie potrebitel’skie tovary vsem ugodit’ krome russkikh proizvoditelei’, Segodnia, 10 January 1998. 118 ‘Iz poslaniia prezidenta Rossiiskoi Federatsii federal’nomu sobraniiu’, 23 February 1996, reproduced in DV, no. 3, March 1996, p. 3. 119 Sergei Kazennov and Vladimir Kumachev, ‘Rossiia ukhodit s mirovykh rynkov oruzhiia?’, Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, 10 February 1996, p. 6. 120 Figures from Ian Anthony, ‘Trends in Post-Cold War International Arms Transfers’, in Anthony (ed.), Russia and the Arms Trade, pp. 16–37, p. 29. 121 See SIPRI Yearbook 1998, Oslo, 1998: Military Spending and Armaments, 1997, Table 8.1, ‘The 30 leading suppliers of major conventional weapons, 1993–97’, p. 294. 122 For Kotelkin’s remarks see Aleksandr Sychev, ‘Konets intrig vokrug “Rosvooruzheniia” – Chernomyrdin budet nadzirat’ za prodazham oruzhii’, Izvestiia, 19 September 1996. 123 See IISS Military Balance 98/99, London: International Institute for Strategic Studies, 1999. 124 See, for example, Aleksandr Koretskii, ‘Po sledam shefa Pentagona. Moskva obespokoena vozmozhnym vozvrashcheniem amerikantsev na kitaiskii rynok oruzhiia’, Segodnia, 23 January 1998. 125 See Baidya Bikash Basu, ‘Trends in Russian Arms Exports’ at www.idsa-india.org/an-feb00–6.html, last accessed 20.07.2000. 126 Cited in RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 2, no. 44, 5 March 1998. Kokoshin was Deputy Defence Minister from May 1992 until 28 August 1997 when he replaced Ivan Rybkin as secretary of the now defunct Defence Council. In March 1998 he was made secretary of the Security Council, but was dismissed in September of the same year. 127 See interview with Makienkov, deputy director of Russian Center for Analysis, Strategy and Technology, in FBIS, Moscow Interfax, in English, 1811 GMT, 20 November 1998, FBIS-SOV-98–324. 128 Vladimir Petrovsky, ‘APR international security regimes: Russian participation options’, Far Eastern Affairs, no. 5, 1997, pp. 20–38, p. 35. The author is a senior researcher of the Institute of the Far East. 3 Russian policy towards China under El’tsin: redefining the joint border 1 General Andrei Nikolaev, Head of the Russian Border Guards Service, 1993–97, in Valerii Iakov, interview with Nikolaev, ‘Kontrol’naia polosa generala Nikolaeva’, Izvestiia, 10 October 1995. 2 Eric Hyer, ‘The Sino-Russian border settlement’, IBRU Boundaries and Security Bulletin, vol. 4, no. 2, Summer 1996, pp. 90–4, p. 92. 3 Klaus Mehnert, Peking and Moscow: The Uneasy Partnership of the Great Communist Powers, London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1963, p. 256. 4 China and the Soviet Union 1949–84, compiled by Peter Jones and Sian Kevill, Keesing’s International Studies, 1985, p. 87. 5 In David Rees, Soviet Border Problems: China and Japan, London: Institute for the Study of Conflict, 1982, p. 5.

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6 See Joseph L. Nogee and Robert H. Donaldson, Soviet Foreign Policy Since World War II (Third Edition), London and New York: Pergamon Press, 1988, p. 182. 7 An article in ‘Renmin Ribao’ in March 1963 for the first time designated the SinoRussian treaties of Aigun (1858), Peking (1860) and Ili (1881) as having been ‘unequal’. See Lowell Dittmer, Sino-Soviet Normalization and its International Implications, Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1992, note 22, p. 32. 8 In Rees, Soviet Border Problems, p. 6. 9 Andrei Voskresenskii, ‘Zona sotrudnichestva ili potensial’nogo konflikta?’ Nezavisimaia gazeta, 3 June 1994. 10 The islands known as Zhenbao by the Chinese; its status is disputed under the treaties of Aigun and Beijing. 11 The thalweg principle entailed accepting the central channel of the river as the boundary. 12 See China and the Soviet Union, p. 145. 13 Dittmer, Sino-Soviet Normalization, p. 69. 14 China and the Soviet Union, pp. 149–50. 15 George Ginsburgs, ‘The end of Sino-Soviet territorial disputes?’ Journal of East Asian Affairs (Seoul), vol. VII, no. 1, Winter/Spring 1993, pp. 261–320, pp. 317–18. 16 Dittmer, Sino-Soviet Normalization, p. 73. 17 Dittmer, Sino-Soviet Normalization, p. 73. 18 Vladimir Miasnikov, Dogovornymi stat’iami utverdili. Diplomaticheskaia istoriia russko-kitaiskoi granitsy XVII–XX vv, Moscow: Institut Dal’nego Vostoka, 1996, p. 397. 19 Yakov Zinberg, ‘The Vladivostok curve. subnational intervention into Russo-Chinese border agreements’, IBRU Boundary and Security Bulletin, vol. 4, no. 3, Autumn 1996, pp. 76–86, p. 79. 20 See Diplomaticheskii vestnik (DV), nos 4–5, 1992, p. 72. 21 However, in the author’s interview in Moscow, autumn 1997, with a counsellor in the MFA’s First Asia Department, she was told that there were dachas on the island near Khabarovsk which were due to be given to China. 22 See Miasnikov, Dogvornymi stat’iami utverdili. 23 For details see DV, nos 1–2, January 1993, ‘Sovmestnaia Deklaratsiia ob osnovakh vzaimootnoshenii mezhdu Rossiiskoi Federatsii i Kitaiskoi Narodnoi Respubliki’, article 12 of the joint declaration, pp. 13–14, p. 14. 24 The full text of the 1991 agreement is reproduced in Miasnikov, Dogovrnymi stat’iami utverdili, pp. 398–406. 25 Ginsburgs, The End of Sino-Soviet Territorial Disputes?, p. 319. 26 See MID press centre briefing of 26 November 1996, in DV, no. 12, December 1996, p. 74. 27 James Cotton, ‘China and Tumen River cooperation’, Asian Survey, vol. 36, no. 11, November 1996, pp. 1086–1101, p. 1101. 28 See Zakhar Vinogradov, ‘Bitva za Primor’e. Pochemu Evgeniia Nazdratenko stol’ chasto pominaiut v Moskve’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 3 October 1996. 29 See Hongchan Chun and Charles E. Ziegler, ‘The Russian Federation and South Korea’, in Stephen J. Blank and Alvin Z. Rubinstein (eds) Imperial Decline: Russia’s Changing Role in Asia, Durham, NC, and London: Duke University Press, 1997, pp. 185–211, p. 198. 30 See DV, no. 12, December 1996. 31 Cited in Zakhar Vinogradov, ‘Rossiia otstaivaet otechestvennye mogily’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 26 November 1997. See also the defence of the border agreement by the MID by G. Kireev, head of the Russian delegation of the Joint Demarcation Commission, ‘K demarkatsii rossiisko-kitaiskoi granitsy’, in DV, no. 3, 1997, pp. 55–8. 32 For more details of the Tumen river project see Cotton, ‘China and Tumen River

Notes

33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43

44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62

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cooperation’, pp. 1086–1101 and Andrew Marton et al., ‘North East Asian cooperation and the Tumen River area development project’, Pacific Affairs, vol. 68, no. 1, Spring 1995, pp. 8–34. DV, no. 12, December 1997, pp. 7–19, p. 9. IEWS Russian Regional Report (electronic edition), 15 December 1998. DV, no. 12, December 1997, pp. 7–19, p. 16. In December 1998, 300 residents from the Jewish Autonomous oblast wrote to their local newspaper complaining about the transfer of several Amur river islands to China. Andrei Kozyrev, DV, nos 1–2, January 1995, pp. 58–63; first session of consultative committee of subjects of RF on International and Foreign Economic Ties, 15 December 1994. DV, nos 15–16, 1992, ‘ “Vnutrennyi front” tikhookeanskoi diplomatii Rossii’, by D.E. Kosyrev, pp. 64–7. OMRI Daily Digest, no. 202, 17 October 1995. For example, Vinogradov, ‘Bitva za Primor’e. . .’ Cited by Tamara Troyakova, ‘Center-periphery game is the real issue’, Vladivostok News (web edition), 17 December 1995, no. 110 at www.vladivostoknews.ru. See Vladivostok News, 17 November 1995, no. 109. In summer 1993, in Amurskaia oblast and Primorskii krai, the governors were replaced; in Primorskii krai, there was growing opposition to the governor, Vladimir Kuznetsov, while the electorate of Amurskaia oblast had voted against El’tsin in the referendum. Aleksandr Isaev and Natal’ia Gorodetskaia, ‘Vopros demilitarizatsii rossiiskokitaiskoi granitsy ostalsia otkrytym’, Segodnia, 17 May 1995. IEWS Russian Regional Report, vol. 2, no. 12, 26 March 1997. OMRI Russian Regional Report, vol. 1, no. 10, part II, 30 October 1996. However, one should bear in mind that Lebed was running for the governorship of Krasnoiarsk krai at the time. IEWS Russian Regional Report., vol. 2, no. 19, 29 May 1997. ITAR-TASS World Service, in Russian, 1128 GMT, 4 October, FBIS-SOV-94–193, 5 October 1994. Andrei Nikolaev, ‘Sozdany osnovy spetsial’noi gosudarstvennoi sluzhby’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 26 December 1997. Mikhail Karpov, interview with Lukin, ‘My okazalis’ v ochen’ plokhoi geopoliticheskoi situatsii’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 14 March 1995. ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, in English, 1138 GMT, 24 July 1993, SU/1753 B/1, 29 July 1993. Karpov, interview with Lukin, ‘My okazalis’. . .’ Aleksandr Platkovskii, ‘Moskva i Pekin staraiutsia utochnit komu prinadlezhit’ ostrova na rekakh Amur i Ussuri’, Izvestiia, 26 April 1994. Karpov, interview with Lukin, ‘My okazalis’ . . . From Rossiiskaia gazeta, 27 May 1994, translated in FBIS-SOV-94–104, 31 May 1994. Jamestown Monitor, vol. 3, no. 79, 22 April 1997. E. Afanas’ev and G. Logvinov, ‘Rossiia i Kitai: na poroge tysiacheletiia’, Mezhdunarodnaia zhizn’, nos 11–12, 1995, pp. 51–61, p. 55. Aleksei Zagorsky, ‘The Security Dimension’, in Tsuneo Akaha (ed.) Politics and Economics in the Russian Far East, London and New York: Routledge, 1997, pp. 23–43, p. 38. DV, nos 1–2, January 1993, pp. 11–15, p. 15. DV, nos 15–16, 15–31 August 1992, p. 60. Zagorsky, ‘The Security Dimension’, in Akaha (ed.), Politics and Economics, p. 39.

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63 Isaev and Gorodetskaia, ‘Vopros demilitarizatsii . . .’ 64 OMRI Daily Digest, no. 89, 7 May 1996. 65 See ‘Vizit B.N. El’tsina v KNR’, pp. 16–21, Diplomaticheskii vestnik, no. 5, May 1996, p. 17. 66 Zagorsky, ‘The Security Dimension’, in Akaha (ed.), Politics and Economics, p. 39. 67 Aleksandr Chudodeev, ‘Rossiisko-kitaiskie pesni o mirozdaniia’, Segodnia, 24 April 1997. 68 Interview with Rodionov, ‘Dialog s Kitaem: perspektivy optimistichnye’, Krasnaia zvezda, 12 April 1997. 69 Aleksandr Platkovskii, ‘ Peremney na granitse s Kitaem’, Izvestiia, 31 December 1996. 70 Jing-dong Yuan, ‘Sino-Russian Confidence Building Measures’, p. 25. 71 Nezavisimaia gazeta, 26 December 1996. 72 ‘Transbaykal district ill-prepared in event of conflict with China’, SWB, Russian Public TV, Moscow, in Russian, 0900 GMT, 20 December 1996. 73 Cited in Kommersant’ Daily, 26 August 1995, in Current Digest of the Post-Soviet Press, vol. XLVII, no. 34, 1995, p. 21. 74 Kommersant’ Daily, August 1995. 75 ‘Kitaiskii vopros na rynkakh Primor’ia’ (no author) Pravda, 6 November 1997. 76 IEWS Russian Regional Report, vol. 2, no. 29, 4 September 1997. 77 Charles E. Ziegler, ‘Russia in the Asia-Pacific: a major power or minor participant?’ Asian Survey, vol. 34, no. 6, June 1994, pp. 529–44, p. 537. 78 James Clay Moltz, ‘Regional tensions in the Russo-Chinese rapprochement’, Asian Survey, vol. 35, no. 6, June 1995, pp. 511–28, p. 521. 79 I.N. Kommissina, ‘K probleme importa Rossiei kitaiskoi rabochei sily’, in Novaia Evraziia: otnosheniia so stranami blizhengo zarubezhiia (Sbornik statei no. 5), Russian Institute of Strategic Studies, Moscow, 1996, pp. 58–72, p. 58 and p. 63. 80 ‘Vneshniaia trudoviaia migratsiia – chlisennost’ inostrannykh grazhdan privlekaemykh na rabotu v Rossii v 1994 g’, in Statisticheskii Ezhegodnik, 1996. 81 V. Portiakov, ‘Kitaitsy idut? Migratsionnaia situatsiia na dal’nem vostoke Rossii’, Mezhdunarodnaia zhizn’, no. 2, 1996, pp. 79–87, p. 83. 82 OMRI Daily Digest, 24 October 1995. 83 Emil Pain cited in OMRI Daily Digest, 6 May 1997. 84 Moltz, ‘Regional tensions’, p. 523. 85 V. Portiakov, ‘Kitaitsy idut? Migratsionnaia situatsiia na dal’nem vostoke Rossii’, Mezhdunarodnaia zhizn’, no. 2, 1996, pp. 79–87, p. 83. 86 Mayak Radio, Moscow in Russian, 1100 GMT, 10 September 1993, SWB, SU/1794 B/6, 15 September 1993. 87 Ostankino Channel 1 TV, Moscow, 1455 GMT, 4 July 1993, SWB, AU/1733 A1/5, 6 July 1993. 88 Boris Reznik, ‘Kitaitsy v dal’nem vostoke: gosti ili khoziany doma?’ Izvestiia, 7 December 1993. 89 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, 0125 GMT, 3 June 1993, SWB, SU/1707 A1/5, 5 June 1993. 90 Miasnikov, Dogovrnymi stat’iami utverdili, p. 411. 91 Vladimir Abarinov, ‘Vygody soiuza s Kitaem somnitel’ny’, Segodnia, 13 March 1996. 92 Mehnert, Peking and Moscow, p. 256. 93 Miasnikov, Dogovornymi stat’iami utverdili, p. 414. 94 Robert Vaillant, ‘The political dimension’, in Akaha (ed.), pp. 3–22, pp. 19–20. 95 A. Nikolaev, Na perelome. Zapiski russkogo generala, Moscow: Sovremennyi pisatel’, 1998, p. 144. 96 IEWS Russian Regional Report, 10 September 1998.

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4 Russian policy towards China under El’tsin: the broader context 1 El’tsin speaking to journalists at the first Russo-Chinese summit in Beijing, SWB, ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, in English, 0813 GMT, 19 December 1992. 2 Author’s interview with official of the Presidential Security Council, Moscow, October 1997. These views were echoed by Georgii Bessarabov of the Institute of Strategic Studies, Moscow. Interview conducted October 1997. 3 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, in Russian, 0941 GMT, 18 December 1992, SWB, FE/1568 A1/1, 19 December 1992. 4 Mikhail Karpov, ‘ “Interesam Rossii otvechaet stabil’nyi i protsvetaiushchii Kitai” – utverdaet zamestitel’ ministr inostrannykh del RF Georgii Kunadze nakanune vizita B.N. El’tsina v Pekin’ (interview with Kunadze), Nezavisimaia gazeta, 10 December 1992. 5 Andrei Ivanov, ‘My nash, my mnogopoliusnyi mir postroim’, Novoe vremia, nos 17–18, 1997, pp. 22–3. 6 Allen Lynch, The Soviet Study of International Relations, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986, p. 4. 7 Lynch, The Soviet Study, p. 96. 8 Lynch, The Soviet Study, p. 101. 9 Paul H.B. Godwin, ‘Force and Diplomacy: China Prepares for the Twenty-First Century’, in Samuel Kim (ed.) China and the World (Fourth Edition), Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1998, pp. 171–93, pp. 172–3. 10 Jamestown Foundation Fortnight in Review, 28 June 1996 (vol. I), 7 March 1997 (vol. II): ‘Looking to Asia’, no. 1, 10 January 1997. 11 Andrei Voskressenskii, ‘The perceptions of China by Russia’s foreign policy elite’, Issues and Studies, vol. 33, no. 3, March 1997, pp. 1–21, p. 13. 12 A view espoused too by Vladimir Lukin; see chapter 3, p. ?. 13 Robert Legvold, ‘Russia and the Strategic Quadrangle’, in Michael Mandelbaum (ed.) The Strategic Quadrangle: Russia, China, Japan and the United States in East Asia, New York: Council on Foreign Relations Press, 1995, pp. 16–62, p. 44. 14 Sergei Bondarevsky and Peter Ferdinand, ‘Russian Foreign Policy and Central Asia’, in Peter Ferdinand (ed.) The New Central Asia and Its Neighbours, London: Pinter for RIIA, 1994, pp. 36–54, p. 41. 15 Igor’ Korotchenko, ‘Igor’ Rodionov vystupil za sozdanie oboronnogo soiuza stran SNG. Besuslovno, takaia pozitsiia vyzovet sozhalenie v NATO’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 26 December 1996. 16 Speech by His Excellency Dr Kanat Saudabaev at the Royal Institute of International Affairs, Chatham House, London, Tuesday, 21 October 1997, ‘Kazakhstan: Regional Security and the Wider Security Policy Agenda’. 17 Cited in Keith Martin, ‘China and Central Asia: between seduction and suspicion’, RFE/RL Research Report, vol. 3, no. 25, 24 June 1994, pp. 26–36, p. 32. 18 Diplomaticheskii vestnik (DV), nos 21–2, 15–30 November 1992, ‘Vystuplenie V.P. Lukina. Rossiia i ee interesy’, 48–53. 19 Zbigniew Brzezinski, The Grand Chessboard: American Primacy and Its Geostrategic Imperatives, New York: HarperCollins, 1997, p. 186. 20 Samuel Huntington, The Clash of Civilisations and the Remaking of the World Order, New York: Simon and Schuster, 1996, p. 240. 21 Aleksandr Kadyrbaev and Konstantin Syroezhkin, ‘Kitai i tsentral’naia Aziia: istoriia i sovremennost’’, in Kazakstan i mirovoe soobshchestvo, no. 3(4), 1995, pp. 33–44, p. 40. 22 Vladimir Miasnikov, ‘Aziatskie gosudarstva SNG v politike Kitaia i Iaponii’, in S.L. Tikhvinskii (ed.) Rossiia i strany blizhnego zarubezh’ia. Vneshnepoliticheskie orientiry, Moscow: Institut rossiiskoi istorii, 1997, pp. 159–62.

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23 ITAR-TASS World Service, 1300 GMT, 25 November 1992, SWB, SU/1549 A1/2, 27 November 1992. 24 Ross H. Munro, ‘Central Asia and China’, in Michael Mandelbaum (ed.) Central Asia and the World: Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan and Turkmenistan, New York: Council on Foreign Relations, 1994, pp. 225–38, p. 228. 25 Alan P.L. Liu, Mass Politics in the People’s Republic. State and Society in Contemporary China, Boulder, CO: Westview, 1996, p. 209. 26 OMRI Daily Digest, part I, no. 30, 12 February 1997. 27 Martin, ‘China and Central Asia’, p. 31. 28 OMRI Daily Digest, part I, no. 56, 20 March 1997. 29 Liu, Mass Politics, p. 208 and p. 209. 30 OMRI Daily Digest, part I, no. 60, 26 March 1997. 31 Munro, ‘Central Asia and China’, p. 235. 32 See RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 1, no. 78, 22 July 1997. 33 Miasnikov, ‘Aziatskie gosudarstva SNG . . .’, in Tikhvinskii (ed.), p. 163. 34 Xu Kui, ‘Russia’s relations with Central Asia and China, and the question of integration into the Asian economy’, 31 January 1996, IREX Scholar Papers. 35 Xu Kui, ‘Russia’s relations with Central Asia and China, and the question of integration into the Asian economy’, 31 January 1996, IREX Scholar Papers. 36 ‘Turkmen President to Pay Six Day Visit to China’, Agence France Presse, SWB, 25 August 1998, 1731 GMT. 37 Keun-Wook Paik, Tarim Basin Energy Development: Implications for Russian and Central Asian Oil and Gas Exports to China, CACP Briefing, London: RIIA Russia and Eurasia Programme with Energy and Environmental Programme, no. 14, November 1997, p. 5. 38 Jan S. Adams, ‘Pipelines and pipedreams. Can Russia continue to dominate Caspian Basin energy?’, Problems of Post-Communism, vol. 45, no. 5, September/October 1998, pp. 26–36, p. 34. 39 Igor’ Rotar’, ‘Kak vozrodit’ velikyi shelkovyi put’?’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 10 December 1997. 40 RFE/RL Newsline, vol. I, no. 46, 5 June 1997. 41 Ahmed Rashid, The Resurgence of Central Asia. Islam or Nationalism?, London and New Jersey: Zed Books, 1994, p. 223. 42 Munro, ‘Central Asia and China’, p. 234. 43 See Vladimir Paramonov and Aleksey Strokov, Economic Involvement of Russia and China in Central Asia, Sandhurst: Defence Academy of the United Kingdom, Conflict Studies Research Centre, May 2007, p. 3. 44 Paramonov and Strokov, Economic Involvement of Russia and China, p. 3. 45 Gudrun Wacker, ‘Die zentralaziatischen Staaten aus chinesischer Perskpektive’, BIOst, no. 15, 1997, p. 25. 46 ‘Rossiia ishchet novoe mesto v mire’ (interview with Evgenii Primakov by Stanislav Kondrashov), Izvestiia, 6 March 1996. 47 Huntington, Clash of Civilisations, p. 239. 48 Arbatov, ‘Rossia: natsional’naia bezopasnost’, p. 14. 49 Shireen T. Hunter, ‘forging chains across Eurasia’, World Today, December 1996, pp. 313–16, p. 316. 50 Vladimir Kuzar’, ‘Partner, kotorogo ne nado iskat’. Rossiisko-indiiskie otnosheniia – faktor stabil’nosti v Azii’, Krasnaia zvezda, 18 October 1996. 51 Andrei Kokoshin, ‘The New Russia: Inheritance and Perspectives’, PRIF Reports, no. 43, Frankfurt-am-Main, August 1996, p. 46. 52 A comprehensive overview of Russo-Indian relations up to 1995 is given by Ramesh Thakur, ‘Russian Policy Toward India: A Relationship on Hold’, in Peter Shearman

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58 59 60 61

62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77

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(ed.) Russian Foreign Policy Since 1990, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1995, pp. 225–47. Kuzar’, ‘Partner, kotorogo ne nado iskat’ . . .’, Krasnaia zvezda, 18 October 1996. James W. Morrison, Zhirinovsky: An Assessment of a Russian Ultra-Nationalist, Washington, DC: McNair Paper 30, Institute for Strategic Studies, National Defense University, 1994, p. 111. Aleksey Mitrofanov, chair of Duma Geopolitics Committee, Anti-NATO: The New Idea of the Russian Geopolitics, Tactics and Strategy at the Present Stage, Moscow, 1997. Kommersant Daily, 29 September 1995, in CDPSP, vol. XLVII, no. 38, 1995, p. 15. Xinhua News Agency domestic service, Beijing, in Chinese, 1135 GMT, 25 August 1999, SWB, FE/3624 G/1, 27 August 1999. See also various chapters in Roy Allison and Lena Jonson (eds) Central Asian Security: The New International Context, RIIA, Brookings Institution, 2001. RFE/RL Newsline, no. 206, 23 October 1998. A point made by Andrew J. Nathan and Robert S. Ross, The Great Wall and the Empty Fortress. China’s Search for Security, New York and London: W.W. Norton and Company, 1998, p. 110. ‘Vizit El’tsina v KNR’, DV nos 1–2, January 1993, pp. 11–15, p. 12. Text of report by V.N. Petrovskii (researcher at the Institute of the Far East) ‘The dialogue–consultation process – path to stability and security in the APR’, 27 January 1992, following a regional conference of the United Nations in Kathmandu. DV, nos 2–3, Part 2, 31 January–15 February 1992, pp. 32–6. Vladimir Petrovsky, ‘Cooperation-based security in Northeast Asia: Russia’s potential role’, Far Eastern Affairs, nos 2–3, 1994, pp. 15–26, p. 20. Aleksandr Gol’ts, ‘DPRK Nuclear Program Overshadows Kim’, Krasnaia zvezda, Moscow, 1 June 1994, as translated in FBIS-SOV-94-105, 1 June 1994. ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow World Service, 1205 GMT, 4 March 1993, SWB, SU/2245 B/11, 7 March 1993. As noted by Evgenii Bazhanov, ‘ATR: ekonomicheskoe pretsvetanie ne iskliuchaet politicheskoi nestabil’nosti. Rossii stoit vernut’sia k sovetskoi idee sozdaniia sistemy vseobshchei bezopasnosti v regione’, Segodnia, 21 June 1995. DV, nos 7–8, April 1993, p. 69. Statement by the MID, DV, nos 5–6, March 1993, p. 30. Yoke T. Soh, ‘Russian Policy Toward the Two Koreas’, in Shearman (ed.), pp. 181–201, p. 197. See Yahuda, The International Politics, pp. 214–15. Alvin Z. Rubinstein, ‘Russia’s Relations with North Korea’, in Stephen J. Blank and Alvin Z. Rubinstein (eds) Imperial Decline. Russia’s Changing Role in Asia, Durham, NC, and London: Duke University Press, 1997, pp. 155–85, p. 174. Russia TV Channel, Moscow, in Russian, 1455 GMT, 2 February 1997, SWB, SU/2834 B/9, 4 February 1997. Vladimir Kuzar’, ‘Na 38-i po-prezhnemu trevozhno’, Krasnaia zvezda, 20 March 1998. Soh, ‘Russian Policy Toward the Two Koreas’, in Shearman (ed.), p. 197. Yahuda, The International Politics, pp. 143–4. Ian Brodie, ‘Diplomatic Dilemmas Await Gore in Beijing’, The Times (London), Monday, 24 March 1997. Vsevolod Ovchinnikov, ‘American blunder. Seeking to prevent a new split into opposing blocs, Asia is shaping a new geopolitical order’, Rossiiskaia gazeta, 20 August 1996, in CDPSP, vol. XLVIII, no. 33, 1996. Author’s interview with Andrei Voskresenskii, deputy director of the Institute of the Far East, October 1997.

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78 DV, no. 12, 30 June 1992, ‘ASEAN: Komu nuzhen voennyi blok?’, p. 53. 79 Steven I. Levine, ‘Sino-American Relations: Practising Damage Control’, in Kim (ed.), pp. 91–114, p. 92. 80 L.S. Kiuzadzhian, Rossiia i Kitai v Aziatsko-tikhookeanskom regione, Moscow: INION RAN, 1996, p. 45. 81 Xia Liping (Shanghai Institute of International Studies), ‘Some Views on Multilateral Cooperation in Northeast Asia’, Beijing Xiandai Guoji Guanxi (Contemporary International Relations), in Chinese, 20 December 1996, no. 12, pp. 12–15, FBIS-CHI-97074, 20 December 1996. 82 Richard Bernstein and Ross Munro, The Coming Conflict with China, New York: Alfred Knopf, 1997, p. 11. 83 Nathan and Ross, The Great Wall, p. 79. 84 Including Huntington, see Clash of Civilisations, 1996, p. 236. 85 See Yahuda, The International Politics, pp. 144–5. 86 Levine, ‘Sino-American Relations’, in Kim (ed.), p. 144. 87 Yahuda, The International Politics, p. 145. 88 OMRI Daily Digest, part I, no. 92, 11 May 1996. 89 Report of conference on Russia and China held at the MID press centre, 21 August 1996. DV, no. 9, September 1996, p. 71. 90 Kazuko Mori, ‘China’s pivotal role in the Asia-Pacific community’, Japan Review of International Affairs, vol. 9, no. 3, Summer 1995, pp. 228–35, p. 231. 91 Allen Whiting cited in Peter Van Ness, ‘China and the Third World’, in Kim (ed.), pp. 151–71, p. 163. 92 Aleksandr Iakovlev of the Institute of Far Eastern Studies, cited in Richard Beeston, ‘Yeltsin seals deal with Beijing to thwart America’, The Times (London), Thursday, 24 April 1997, p. 19. 5 Russian policy towards Japan under El’tsin 1 El’tsin in a radio phone-in: ‘Kakii ia byl, takii zhe i ostal’sia’, published in Komsomol’skaia pravda, 3 July 1992. 2 Tsuyoshi Hasegawa, ‘Japanese Perceptions and Policies Towards the Soviet Union’, in Pushpa Thambipillai and Daniel Matuszewski (eds) The Soviet Union and the Asia-Pacific Region: Views From the Region, New York and London: Praeger, 1989, pp. 25–35, p. 27. 3 Gorbachev addressing a session of the Supreme Soviet, 22 April 1991, in Vizit M.S. Gorbacheva v Iaponii, 16–19 aprelia 1991 goda. Dokumenty i materialy, Moscow: Izdatel’stvo politicheskoi literatury, 1991. 4 Semyon I. Verbitskii, ‘Russian Perceptions of Japan’, in James E. Goodby et al. (eds) Northern Territories and Beyond, Westport, CT, and London: Praeger, 1995, pp. 63–9, p. 63. 5 ‘Obrashchenie tov. I.V. Stalina k sovetskomu narodu, 2 sentiabria 1945 g.’, Document no. 43 in V.K. Zilanov et al., Russkie Kurily: Istoriia i sovremennost’ (Sbornik dokumentov po istorii formirovaniia russko-iaponskoi i sovetsko-iaponskoi granitsy), Moscow: Izdatel’stvo ‘Sampo’, 1995, pp. 96–8. 6 Hiroshi Kimura, ‘El’tsin’s visit to Japan’, Journal of Northeast Asian Studies (Seoul), vol. 13, Summer 1994, pp. 50–60, p. 50. 7 Richard deVillafranca, ‘Japan and the Northern Territories dispute: past, present, future’, Asian Survey, vol. 33, no. 6, June 1993, pp. 610–24, p. 623. 8 Tsuyoshi Hasegawa, ‘Russo-Japanese Relations in the New Environment – Implications of Continuing Stalemate’, in Jonathan Haslam and Andrew Kuchins (eds) Russia and Japan: An Unresolved Dilemma Between Neighbours, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1993, pp. 417–53, p. 450.

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9 Eugene Bazhanov and Natasha Bazhanov, ‘Russia and Asia in 1993’, Asian Survey, vol. 34, no. 1, January 1994, pp. 87–97, p. 92. 10 Joachim Glaubitz, Between Tokyo and Moscow: The History of an Uneasy Relationship. 1972 to the 1990s, London: Hurst and Co., 1995, p. 37. 11 William F. Nimmo, Japan and Russia: A Reevaluation in the Post-Soviet Era, Westport, Ct: Greenwood Press, 1994, p. 34. 12 Nimmo, Japan and Russia, pp. 15–18. 13 Gilbert Rozman, Japan’s Response to the Gorbachev Era: A Rising Superpower Views a Declining One, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991, p. 322. 14 Vitalii Gaidar, ‘The South Kuriles: a problem awaiting solution’, Far Eastern Affairs, no. 6, 1994, pp. 42–52, p. 4. 15 DeVillafranca, ‘Japan and the Northern Territories dispute’, p. 623. 16 Glaubitz, Between Tokyo and Moscow, Appendix A, p. 257. 17 Harry Gelman, Russo-Japanese Relations and the Future of the US–Japanese Alliance, Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation, 1993, p. 17. 18 Tyshetskii, ‘The Gorbachev–Kaifu Summit’, in Haslam and Kuchins (eds), p. 93. 19 Glaubitz, Between Tokyo and Moscow, p. 225. 20 Nimmo, Japan and Russia, p. 87. 21 For example, Sergei V. Chugrov, ‘Russia and Japan: drifting in opposite directions’, Transition, 22 September 1995, pp. 12–16 (and p. 68), p. 13. 22 Tsuyoshi Hasegawa, ‘Russia and Japan’, in Ramesh Thakur and Carlyle A. Thayur (eds) Reshaping Regional Relations: Asia-Pacific and the Former Soviet Union, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993, pp. 101–24, p. 107. 23 Cited in John Lloyd, ‘Gorbachev’s Japan visit raises island hopes’, Financial Times, 15 April 1991. 24 Aleksei Arbatov and Boris Makeev, ‘Kuril’skii bar’er’, Novoe vremia, no. 40, October 1992, pp. 16–19, and no. 41, pp. 24–6. 25 Sergei Strokan, ‘Chleny SNG budut zanimat’ novoe mesto v Aziatskom teatre’, Moskovskie novosti, 12 January 1992. 26 Evgenii Kovrigin, ‘Problems and Prospects for Japanese Involvement in the Soviet Far East’, pp. 80–9, in Peter Drysdale (ed.) The Soviets and the Pacific Challenge, Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 1991, p. 81. 27 Hasegawa, ‘Japanese Perceptions and Policies’, in Thambipillai and Matuszewski (eds), p. 24. 28 Hiroshi Kimura, ‘Recent Japan–Soviet Relations’, in The Soviets and the Pacific Challenge, p. 71, pp. 68–79. 29 Glaubitz, Between Tokyo and Moscow, p. 123. 30 Lonny E. Carlile, ‘The changing political economy of Japan’s economic relations with Russia: the rise and fall of Seikei Fukabun’, Pacific Affairs, vol. 67, no. 3, Fall 1994, pp. 411–32, pp. 412–15. 31 Carlile, ‘The changing political economy’, p. 421. 32 Glaubitz, Between Tokyo and Moscow, p. 112. 33 Tyshetskii, ‘The Gorbachev–Kaifu Summit’, in Haslam and Kuchins (eds), p. 90. 34 Dennis T. Yasutomo, The New Multilateralism in Japan’s Foreign Policy, Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1995, p. 14. 35 Yasutomo, The New Multilateralism, p. 14. 36 Yasutomo, The New Multilateralism, p. 173. 37 Glaubitz, Between Tokyo and Moscow, p. 212. 38 Cited in Gelman, Russo-Japanese Relations, p. 33. 39 TASS World Service, in Russian, 1717 GMT, 12 October 1991, SWB, SU/1204, A3/2, 17 October 1991. 40 Interview published in Far Eastern Affairs, no. 2, 1992, pp. 7–15, p. 10. 41 Glaubitz, Between Tokyo and Moscow, p. 208.

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42 John Lloyd, ‘Yeltsin aims to win backing of army’, Financial Times, 11 February 1991. 43 Vsevolod Ovchinnikov, ‘Davaite vmeste ishchem resheniiu’, Pravda, 10 October 1991. 44 TASS World Service, in Russian, 1000 GMT, 17 October 1991, SWB, SU/1209 A3/2, 22 October 1991. 45 USSR Ministry of the Merchant Marine teletype, Kaliningrad, 1500 GMT, 17 October 1991, SWB, SU/1212 B/5, 25 October 1991. 46 TASS World Service, in Russian, 1734 GMT, 22 October 1991, SWB, SU/1212 A3/3, 25 October 1991. The Ainu were the original indigenous inhabitants of the islands, i.e. before Japanese or Russian explorers arrived. None remain today. 47 Diplomaticheskii vestnik, nos 4–5, 29 February–15 March 1992, ‘Den’ za dnem’, p. 76. 48 DV, no. 7, 15 April 1992, p. 21. 49 DV, no. 7, 15 April 1992, p. 21. 50 DV, no. 7, 15 April 1992, p. 60. 51 Press conference with Kunadze (‘Rossiia–Iaponiia: zakon prevyshe vsego’), in DV, nos 15–16, 15–31 August 1992, pp. 72–7. 52 ‘Zaiavlenie MIDa’, DV, nos 9–10, 15–31 May 1992, p. 27. 53 See the press briefing held by Sergei Iastrzhembskii and Galina Sidorova, DV, nos 9–10, 15–31 May 1992, p. 40. 54 Kyodo News Agency, in English, 1237 GMT, 14 October 1991, SWB, SU/1204 A3/3, 16 October 1992. 55 Radio Mayak, 2200 GMT, 22 March 1992, SWB, SU/1338, A1/1, 25 March 1992. 56 Izvestiia, 23 May 1992, in SWB, SU/1394 A3/1, 30 May 1992. 57 ‘Zaiavlenie MIDa’, 22 May 1992, DV, no. 12, 30 June 1992, p. 35. 58 Russian TV, 1700 GMT, 5 May 1992, SWB, SU/1379, A3/3, 13 May 1992. 59 Briefing by Iastrzhembskii on 26 May, DV, no. 12, 30 June 1992, p. 51. 60 Press conference with deputy Foreign Minister Kunadze, ‘Rossiia–Iaponiia: zakon prevyshe vsego’, Briefing 22 July, DV, nos 15–16, 15–31 August 1992, pp. 72–7, p. 74. 61 Kunadze press conference, DV, nos 15–16, 15–31 August 1992, p. 75. 62 ITAR-TASS World Service, Moscow, in English, 1026 GMT, 18 July 1992, SWB, SU/1437, A1/4, 20 July 1992. 63 RIA News Agency, Moscow in English, 0948 GMT, 18 July 1992, SWB, SU/1437, A1/4, 20 July 1992. 64 As reported by ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, 1018 GMT, 28 July 1992, SWB, SU/1446, C2/1, 30 July 1992. 65 Andrei Voskresenskii, ‘Zona sotrudnichestva ili potentsial’nogo konflikta?’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 3 June 1994. 66 Hiroshi Kimura, ‘Japanese–Russian Relations’, in Trevor Taylor (ed.) The Collapse of the Soviet Empire, vol. 1: Managing the Regional Fallout, London: RIIA for International Institute for Global Peace, 1992, pp. 79–89, p. 83. 67 Vasilii Saplin, head of the Japan section of the RSFSR MID. Russia’s Radio, 2020 GMT, 19 October 1991, SWB, SU/1209 A3/1. 68 Kunadze press conference, DV, nos 15–16, 15–31 August 1992, p. 76. 69 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, 1746 GMT, 28 July 1992, SWB, SU/1446, C2/1, 30 July 1992. 70 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, 1018 GMT, 28 July 1992, SWB, SU/1446, C2/1, 30 July 1992. 71 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, in English, 0646 GMT, 30 July 1992, SWB, SU/1447, C2/4, 31 July 1992.

Notes

183

72 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, 0839 GMT, 28 July 1992, SWB, SU/1445, A1/4, 29 July 1992. 73 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, in English, 1025 GMT, 27 July 1992, SWB, SU/1445, A1/2, 29 July 1992. 74 Ibid. 75 Pavel Anokhin and Aleksandr Linkov, ‘ “Spornye territorii” vyzyvaiut spory v Rossii’, Rossiiskaia gazeta, 29 July 1992, p. 7. 76 V.S. Sirenko. Stenographic record of closed parliamentary hearings conducted by the Supreme Soviet of the Russian Federation on ‘Russo-Japanese relations and the constitutional problem of the Russian Federation’s territorial integrity’, 28 July 1992, reproduced in abridged form in Iu. V. Georgiev (ed.) Kurily. Ostrova v okeane problem, Moscow: ‘Rossiiskaia politicheskaia entsiklopediia’, 1998, Appendix, p. 495. 77 O.N. Bondarenko, Neizvestnye Kurily, Moscow: ‘VTI-Deita Press’, 1992, p. 141. 78 Oleg Bondarenko, ‘Appendix J. Paper on the Contemporary Situation in the Kuril Islands’, in Graham Allison, Hiroshi Kimura and Konstantin Sarkisov, Beyond Cold War to Trilateral Cooperation in the Asia-Pacific Region. Scenarios for New Relationships Between Japan, Russia, and the United States, Appendices F–N, Harvard University: Strengthening Democratic Institutions Project, 1992, p. 9. 79 Oleg Bondarenko, Appendix J, in Allison et al., p. 10. 80 Andrei Kozyrev, Preobrazhenie, Moscow, ‘Mezhdunarodnye otnosheniia’, p. 298. 81 Russia’s Radio, Moscow, 1400 GMT, 15 July, SWB, SU/1435, A1/1, 17 July 1992. 82 Cited in Georgiev (ed.), Kurily. Ostrova, p. 340. 83 V. Dunaev, ‘Poltaranin says Kurils no longer bilateral issue: USA should be involved’, Izvestiia, 5 August 1992, in SWB, SU/1454, A1/4, 8 August 1992. 84 ITAR-TASS, Moscow, World Service, in Russian, SWB, 1826 GMT, 3 July 1992, SU/1428, A1/5, 9 July 1992. 85 ‘O zaiavleniiakh M.N. Poltaranina’, DV, 15–30 September 1992, nos 17–18, p. 61. 86 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, in English, 1147 GMT, 25 August 1992, SWB, SU/1472, A1/1, 29 August 1992. 87 Vasilii Kononenko, ‘Pochemu B. El’tsin ne poekhal v Iaponiiu’, interview with Petrov in Izvestiia, 11 September 1992. 88 V. Mikheev, ‘M. Vatanabe: esli Rossiia ne vernet Shikotan i Habomai, ona narushit svoi obeshcheniia’, Izvestiia, 28 August 1992. 89 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, 1540 GMT, 3 September 1992 and 2053 GMT, in English, 3 September 1992, SWB, SU/1478, A1/1, 5 September 1992. 90 Ostankino Channel 1 TV, Moscow, 1500 GMT, 6 September 1992, SWB, SU/1480, A1/1, 8 September 1992. 91 See Kozyrev, Preobrazhenie, p. 299. 92 Preobrazhenie, p. 299. 93 B. El’tsin, Zapiski prezidenta, Moscow: ‘Ogonek’,1994, p. 185. 94 AND, in German, 0937 GMT, 10 September 1992, SWB, DU/1483, A1/2, 11 September 1992. 95 Kyodo News Service Tokyo, in English, 1249 GMT, 10 September 1992, SWB, SU/1484, A1/4, 12 September 1992. 96 Kononenko, ‘Pochemu B. El’tsin ne poekhal v Iaponiiu’. 97 According to the account given of El’tsin’s telephone conversation with Miyazawa in Georgiev (ed.) Kurily. Ostrova, p. 386. 98 See Sergei Agafonov, ‘Moskva reshila prepodat’ Tokio urok “shokovoi terapii”, schitaiut v Iaponii’, Izvestiia, 14 September 1992. 99 ‘Russia’ TV, Moscow, 1900 GMT, 3 September 1992, SWB, SU/1478, A1/2, 5 September 1992.

184

Notes

100 ‘Russia’ TV, Moscow, 1920 GMT, 11 September 1992, SWB, SU/1485, A1/1, 14 September 1992. 101 ‘Russia’ TV Channel, Moscow, 1250 GMT, 16 September 1992, SWB, SU/1489, A1/2, 18 September 1992. 102 See Interfax News Agency, Moscow, in English, 1653 GMT, 17 September 1992, SWB, SU/1491, A1/2, 21 September 1992. 103 See Aleksei Pushkov’s interview with Kozyrev, ‘Russia and Japan did not give up their principles. There was no vote on the cancellation of the visit’, Moskovskie novosti, no. 38, 20 September 1992, in SWB, SU/1491 A1/4, 21 September 1992. 104 Kyodo News Service, Tokyo, in English, 0248 GMT, 24 September 1992, SWB, SU/1495, A1/3, 25 September 1992. 105 Mayak Radio, 0830 GMT, 4 October 1992, SWB, SU/1503, C2/1, 5 October 1992. 106 Russia’s Radio, Moscow, 0900 GMT, 4 October 1992, SWB, SU/1506 C2/1, 18 October 1992. 107 ITAR-TASS, Moscow, World Service, 1405 GMT, 14 October 1992, SWB, SU/1513, C2/2, 16 October 1992. 108 ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, 0037 GMT, 5 December 1992, SWB, SU/1558, C3/2, 8 December 1992. 109 Radio Moscow, World Service, in English, 0910 GMT, SWB, SU/1518, A1/2, 22 October 1992. 110 Radio Moscow, World Service, in English, 0800 GMT, 17 October 1992, SWB, SU/1515, A1/3, 19 October 1992. 111 Interfax, Moscow, in English, 1721 GMT, 16 October 1992, SWB, SU/1524, A1/1, 29 October 1992. 112 ITAR-TASS, Moscow, World Service, in English, 1653 GMT, 26 October 1992, SWB, SU/1523, B/4, 28 October 1992. 113 Kyodo News Service, Tokyo, in English, 1311 GMT, 28 October 1992, SWB, FE/1526 A2/1, 31 October 1992. 114 Radio Moscow, World Service, in English, 1500 GMT, 19 September 1992, SWB, SU/1491, A1/3, 21 September 1992. 115 MID statement, 28 November, DV, nos 23–4, 15–31 December 1992, p. 60. 116 See Iastrzhembskii’s statement, DV, nos 1–2, January 1993, p. 60. 117 Chernomyrdin had been appointed First Deputy Prime Minister at the end of May 1992, with responsibility for fuel and energy, together with Georgii Khizha, another centrist, and member of the directors’ lobby. 118 DV, nos 3–4, February 1993, p. 48. 119 Radio Moscow, World Service, in English, 0910 GMT, 20 October 1992, SWB, SU/1518, A1/2, 22 October 1992. 120 V. Golovnin, ‘Rossiia–Iaponiia: Tokyo predprinimaet shag k sblizheniiu’, Izvestiia, 18 December 1992. 121 DV, nos 3–4, February 1993. Article by Iu. D. Kuznetsov, head of second AsiaPacific department, pp. 59–61. 122 ITAR-TASS, Moscow, World Service, 1055 GMT, 13 October 1992, SWB, SU/1512, A1/2, 15 October 1992. 123 ITAR-TASS, Moscow, 1043 GMT, 1 March 1993, SWB, SU/1630 A1/2, 6 March 1993. 124 For example, at the Eighth Congress of People’s Deputies in March 1993, Khasbulatov described Western aid as ‘large-scale deception’. Cited in Theodore Karasik (ed.) Russia and Eurasia Facts and Figures Annual 1993, vol. 19, 1994, ‘Chronology 1993’, pp. 142–68, p. 146. 125 Russia’s Radio, Moscow, 2000 GMT, 17 March 1993, SWB, SU/1465, C2/1, 24 March 1993. 126 DV, nos 9–10, May 1993, ‘Vystuplenie A.V. Kozyreva pered uchenymi-

Notes

127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138

139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153

185

mezhdunarodynkami i predstaviteliami delovykh i poiticheskikh krugov Iaponii’, pp. 19–21. DV, nos 9–10, May 1993, p. 25. See John P. Willerton, ‘Yeltsin and the Russian Presidency’, in White et al. (eds) Developments in Russian and Post-Soviet Politics, London: Macmillan, 1995, pp. 25–57, p. 52. In Karasik (ed.), Russia and Eurasia, ‘Chronology 1993’, p. 150. ITAR-TASS World Service, in English, 0908 GMT, 5 April 1993, SWB, SU/1657, B/5, 7 April 1993. Interfax, in English, 1343 GMT, 28 May 1993, SWB, SU/1702, C2/3, 31 May 1993. ITAR-TASS World Service, Moscow, in English, 0806 GMT, 12 April 1993, SWB, SU/1664, B/14, 16 April 1993. ITAR-TASS World Service, 0455 GMT, SWB, SU/1740 A1/2, 14 July 1993. ‘Rossiisko-Iaponskoe ekonomicheskoe soveshchanie’, report by I.B. Titov, DV, nos 13–14, July 1993, pp. 60–3. Meetings of this council are held several times a year, bringing together Foreign Ministry officials, academics and members of the business community. See Malcolm, ‘Foreign Policy Making’, in Malcolm et al., p. 121. DV, nos 11–12, June 1993, pp. 13–14. DV, nos 13–14, July 1993, pp. 61–3. Hiroshi Kimura, ‘Tokyo-Moscow: Recent Developments and Prospects. Misunderstandings Among Non-Japanese. The Northern Territories Syndrome?’, in Hannes W. Maull (ed.) Bowing to the Winds of Change? New Aspects in Japanese Economic, Foreign and Security Policies, Bonn: Forschungsinstitut fuer Auswaertige Politik e.V., Europa Union Verlag, 1994, pp. 37–52, p. 40. Radio Moscow, World Service, in English, 2100 GMT, 2 July 1993, SWB, SU/1735, C3/2, 8 July 1993. ‘Politicheskaia deklaratsiia’ (Tokio, iiul’ 1993), DV, nos 15–16, August 1993, p. 10. ‘Vstrecha B.N. El’tsina s K. Miiadzavoi’, DV, nos 15–16, August 1993, p. 9. DV, nos 15–16, August 1993. Briefing on 3 August, p. 66. See the chapter by Robert Vaillant, ‘The Political Dimension’, in Tsueno Akaha (ed.) Politics and Economics in the Russian Far East, London and New York: Routledge, 1997, pp. 3–22. ITAR-TASS, Moscow, World Service, in English, 1558 GMT, 19 August 1993, SWB, SU/1776 C2/2, 25 August 1993. ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, in English, 1138 GMT, 24 July 1993, SWB, SU/1753 B/1, 29 July 1993. ITAR-TASS, World Service, 0734 GMT, 17 August 1993, SWB, SU/1774 C2/2, 23 August 1993. Interfax, in English, 1627 GMT, 17 August 1993, SWB, SU/1774 C2/3, 23 August 1993. ‘Russia’ TV channel, Moscow, 1000 GMT, 29 July 1993, SWB SU/1759, C2/4, 5 August 1993. Sergei Agafonov, ‘Chastnyi vizit Burbulisa serezno ozadachil Tokiiskikh oborzrevatelei’, Izvestiia, 3 September 1993, p. 3. Interfax, Moscow, in English, 1529 GMT, 3 October 1993, SWB, SU/1814, C/4, 8 October 1993. ITAR-TASS News Agency, World Service, in English, 0622 GMT, 21 July 1993, SWB, SU/1749, C4/3, 24 July 1993. ITAR-TASS, Moscow, 0015 GMT, 28 July 1993, SWB, SU/1754, C2/2, 30 July 1993. ITAR-TASS News Agency, World Service, 1906 GMT, 22 July 1993, SWB, SU/1749, C4/3, 24 July 1993.

186

Notes

154 Vasilii Golovnin, ‘Rossiiskie boevye samolety vyvedeny so spornykh Iuzhnykh Kuril. Zhiteli Rossii ob etom zabyli soobshchit’ ’, Segodnia, 27 July 1993, p. 4. 155 RIA News Agency, in English, 0815 GMT, 9 August 1993, SWB, SU/1768, C3/2, 16 August 1993. 156 NHK TV, Tokyo, in Japanese, 0310 GMT, 13 October 1993, SWB, SU/1819, C/1, 14 October 1993. 157 ‘Ignorirovanie ochevidnykh faktov’, DV, nos 15–16, August 1993, p. 66. 158 Interfax, Moscow, in English, 2002 GMT, 29 September 1993, SWB, SU/1810, D/2, 4 October 1993. 159 ITAR-TASS World Service, in Russian, 0949 GMT, 11 October 1993, SWB, SU/1817, B/10, 12 October 1993. 160 Ibid. 161 Interview with Pushkov, ‘Russia and Japan did not give up their principles. . . .’ 162 DV, nos 21–2, November 1993, p. 12. 163 Ibid. 164 NHK TV, Tokyo, in Japanese, 0254 GMT, 13 October 1993, SWB, SU/1819, C/1, 14 October 1993. 165 DV, nos 21–2, November 1993, p. 64. 166 DV, no. 11, November 1993; see also Motohide Saito, ‘Japan’s Northward Foreign Policy’, in Gerald L. Curtis (ed.) Japan’s Foreign Policy After the Cold War. Coping With Change, Armonk, NY, London, England: M.E. Sharpe,1993, p. 286. 167 Curtis (ed.) Japan’s Foreign Policy After the Cold War, p. 285. 168 Sergei Agafonov, ‘Iapontsam kazhetsia, chto El’tsin ikh plokho ponial’, Izvestiia,15 October 1993. 169 See El’tsin’s press conference, NHK TV, Tokyo, in Japanese, 0256 GMT, 13 October 1993, SWB, SU/1820, C/1, 15 October 1993, and Gaidar’s comments, ITAR-TASS News Agency, World Service, Moscow, in Russian, 1320 GMT, 13 October 1993, SWB, SU/1820, C/3, 15 October 1993. 170 Kyodo News Service, Tokyo, in English, 1021 GMT, 13 October 1993, SWB, SU/1820, C/4, 15 October 1993. 171 Kyodo News Service, Tokyo, in English, 0904 GMT, 13 October 1993, SWB, SU/1820, C/4, 15 October 1993. 172 Press conference with N.N. Solov’ev, DV, nos 21–2, November 1993, pp. 63–5. 173 Ibid., p. 65. 174 Glaubitz, Between Tokyo and Moscow, p. 251. 175 Kyodo News Agency, Tokyo, in English, 2305 GMT, 20 October 1993, SWB, SU/1826, B/4, 22 October 1993. 176 Kyodo News Agency, Tokyo, in English, 1137 GMT, 22 October 1993, SWB, SU/1828, B/7, 25 October 1993. 177 He was appointed ambassador to Seoul. See DV, nos 1–2, January 1994, ‘Novye naznacheniia’, p. 62. Panov remained Deputy Foreign Minister responsible for Asia until 1996, when he was appointed ambassador to Japan, and was in turn replaced by Grigorii Karasin. 178 Neil Malcolm, ‘Foreign Policy Making’, in Malcolm et al., Internal Factors, pp. 101–68, p. 135. 179 From ‘Yomuri Shimbun’, 11 October 1993, cited in Igor Latyshev, Kto i kak prodaet Rossiiu. Khronika rossiiskogo-iaponskikh territorial’nykh torgov (1991–1994 godov), Moscow: Paleia, 1994, p. 181. 180 Latyshev, Kto i kak prodaet Rossiiu. 181 DV, nos 21–2, March 1994, p. 31. 182 ‘Vizit Tsutomo Khaty v Rossiiu’, DV, nos 7–8, April 1994, p. 20. 183 DV, nos 7–8, April 1994, p. 67.

Notes

187

184 Leonid Mlechin, ‘Iaponskoe posol’stvo boretsia za zvanie samogo aktivnogo v Moskve’, Izvestiia, 28 May 1994, p. 3. 185 ‘Boris El’tsin: U nas net lishnei zemli’, Rossiiskaia gazeta, 31 May 1994. 186 Vasilii Golovnin, ‘Iaponskoe ekho vystrelov u Iuzhnykh Kuril. Tokio gotov k kompromissu, no otkazyvat’sia ot bor’by za “servernye teritorii” ne nameren’, Segodnia, 20 August 1994, p. 4. 187 According to Gennadii Gerasimov (MID spokesman), in early 1990 a survey had shown that 85 per cent of Soviet citizens had rejected the idea of the islands being returned to Japan. However, as Glaubitz points out, ‘the rejection was based on the argument that the return of the islands would set a “dangerous precedent” ’. See Glaubitz, Between Tokyo and Moscow, p. 95. 188 See Sergei Agafonov, ‘Ne nuzhny moskvicham razrushennye ostrova. Poslednii opros rossiiskoi obshchestvennosti – dolgo zhdannaia radost’ dlia iapontsev’, Izvestiia, 13 October 1994, p. 3. 189 Interfax, ITAR-TASS, ‘Zhiteli Kuril begut na materik. Voina Primor’ia I Sakhalina za ostrova prodolzhaetsia’, Segodnia, 6 September 1994, p. 3. 190 In Krasnaia zvezda, Moscow, 15 October 1994, FBIS-SOV-94–201, 18 October 1994. 191 Tokyo Kyodo, in English, 0555 GMT, 12 October 1994, FBIS-SOV-94–197, 12 October 1994. 192 Moscow, ITAR-TASS, in English, 1001 GMT, 4 October 1994, FBIS-SOV-94–192, 4 October 1994. 193 ITAR-TASS, World Service, 0335 GMT, 6 October 1994, FBIS-SOV-94–194, 6 October 1994. 194 See briefing by M.V. Demurin on 13 October 1994, in DV, nos 21–2, November 1994, p. 62. 195 Cited in Vladimir Abarinov, ‘Oproverzhenie kak istochnik: MID RF ne soglasen s suzhdeniiami o “zastoe” v rossiisko-iaponskikh otnosheniiakh’, Segodnia, 5 May 1995, p. 3. 196 ‘Sovmestnoe rossiisko-iaponskoe soobshchenie dlia pechati po itogam vizita v Iaponii pervogo zamestitelia predsedatelia pravitel’stva Rossiiskoi Federatsii O.N. Soskovtsa’, DV, December 1994, nos 23–4, pp. 14–16. 197 Shukan Bunshun, in Japanese, by Akira Kato, Tokyo, FBIS-EAS-95–005, 8 December 1994. 198 Iaponiia i Rossiia: V interesakh podlinnogo vsaimoponimaniia, Tokyo: Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 1996. I am grateful to the Japanese Embassy in Moscow for this publication. 199 Sergei Agafonov, ‘Vizit Kozyreva v Tokio vriad li budet prazdnik vzaimnogo pominaniia’, Segodnia, 1 January 1995. 200 Sergei Agafonov, ‘It’s cheaper to dump the stuff’, Izvestiia, 15 February 1995, in CDPSP, vol. XLVII, no. 7, 1995, p. 23. 201 Vasilii Golovnin, ‘Andrei Kozyrev priiatno skorotal vremia v Tokio. Storony pogovorili I razoshlis’ ’, Segodnia, 7 March 1995, p. 2. 202 ITAR-TASS News Agency, World Service, Moscow, in Russian, 1000 GMT, 4 March 1995, SWB, SU/2245, B/11, 7 March 1995. 203 Moscow, ITAR-TASS, in English, 1105 GMT, 3 March 1995, FBIS-SOV-95–044, 7 March 1995. 204 Sergei Agafonov, ‘To radostnaia vest’ okazhetsia oshibkoi, to MID popravit prezidenta’, Izvestiia, 4 April 1995, p. 3. 205 Interfax News Agency, Moscow, in English, 1321 GMT, 5 March 1995, SWB, SU/2245, B/11, 7 March 1995. 206 Sergei Agafonov, ‘Iaponiia potriasena i obizhena vyskazyvaniiami El’tsina v podmoskovnom Dedovske’, Izvestiia, 2 June 1995, p. 2.

188

Notes

207 ‘Zaiavlenie press-sekretaria prezidenta RF’, Rossiiskie vesti, 3 June 1995. 208 Anatolii Veslo, ‘Sakhalin, Sakhalin – iskonno russkaia zemlia . . . Pavel Grachev sdelal svoi vyvody po itogam Vtoroi Mirovoi Voiny’, Segodnia, 30 August 1995, p. 2. 209 Iurii Golotiuk, ‘Rossiiskie pogranichniki snova rasstreliali brakon’erov. Za dve nedeli do intsidenta iapontsev predupredili o tom chto takoe mozhet sluchit’sia’, Segodnia, 28 September 1995. 210 See ‘Khronika’, Diplomaticheskaia sluzhba, 8–13 November 1995, DV, no. 12, December 1995, p. 48. 211 Iurii Golotiuk, ‘Iapontsy nedovol’ny vyskazyvaniiami Primakova’, Segodnia, 19 January 1996. 212 See Glaubitz, Between Tokyo and Moscow, p. 84. 213 Cited in Georgiev (ed.) Kurily. Ostrova, p. 427. 214 DV, no. 2, February 1996, p. 84. 215 ‘Press-konferentsiia ministra inostrannykh del Rossii E.M. Primakova’, Press-Tsentr MID RF, 12 January, DV, no. 2, February 1996, p. 3. 216 ‘Boris El’tsin podpishet printsipy politiki RF po granitse’, Segodnia, 10 October 1996. 217 ‘Rossiia-Iaponiia. Vizit Iu.Ikedy v Rossiiu’, Diplomaticheskii vestnik, no. 4, April 1996, pp. 25–6. 218 ‘Russia Won’t Get New Loans Until It Pays Its Debts’, Kommersant Daily, 22 March, p. 4, in CDPSP, vol. XLVIII, no. 12 (1996), p. 23. 219 See Pavel Minakir, ‘Dal’nii Vostok: pochemu buksuiut reformy’, Otkrytaia politika, June 1998, pp. 32–8, p. 38. 220 Vladimir Abarinov, ‘Aleksandr Panov: Rossiiskoe prisutstvie v Iugo-Vostochnoi Azii otvechaet interesam i Rossii, i regiona. Moskva ne vidit neobkhodimykh uslovii dlia resheniia territorial’nogo spora s Iaponiei’, Segodnia, 12 July 1996, p. 9. 221 Gennadii Charodeev, ‘Moskva shlet podkreplenie pogranichnikam v Kuril’skuiu zonu’, Izvestiia, 30 August 1996, p. 3. 222 DV, no. 12, December 1996, p. 71. 223 DV, no. 12, December 1996, p. 26. 224 ‘On the main results of foreign policy in 1996’, press conference with First Deputy Foreign Minister Igor’ Ivanov, DV, no. 1, 1997. 225 Vasilii Golovnin, ‘Iukihiko Ikeda, kotoryi ne liubil schitat’ do vos’mi. Tokio po prezhnemu ne nravitsia prevrashchenie “semerki” v “vosemerki” ’, Segodnia, 24 May 1997. 226 DV, no. 7, 1997, p. 23. 227 Address by Prime Minister Ryutaro Hashimoto to the Japan Association of Corporate Executives, 24 July 1997. I am grateful to the Japanese Embassy in Moscow for providing this translation. 228 DV, no. 8, August 1997, p. 66. 229 Address by Hashimoto in July 1997. 230 Interfax News Agency, Moscow, in Russian, 0312 GMT, 29 July 1997, SWB, SU/2984 B/10, 30 July 1997. 231 Andrei Ivanov, ‘Iaponskoe ministerstvo inostrannykh del’ obratil vnimanie na Rossiiu’, Kommersant’ Daily, 12 September 1997, p. 4. 232 See ITAR-TASS News Agency, World Service, Moscow, in English, 0816 GMT, 20 September 1997, SWB, SU/3030 B/14, 22 September 1997. 233 ITAR-TASS News Agency, World Service, Moscow, in Russian, 0315 GMT, 24 September 1997, SWB, SU/3034 B/12, 26 September 1997. 234 Untitled report, ‘Japanese minister tours Kurile islands’, Moscow Tribune, 1 October 1997. 235 Vasilii Golovnin, ‘Iuzhnye Kurily umoliaiut Iaponiiu o pomoshchi v obkhod

Notes

236 237 238

239 240 241 242 243 244 245

246 247

248 249

189

Moskvy. Mestnyi nachal’nik govorit’, chto narod tam gotov otdelit’sia ot Rossii’, Izvestiia, 4 October 1997, pp. 1–2. ITAR-TASS News Agency, World Service, Moscow, in Russian, 0633 GMT, 2 November 1997, SWB, SU/3066 B/8, 3 November 1997. ITAR-TASS News Agency, World Service, Moscow, in English, 1316 GMT, 31 October 1997, SWB, SU/3065 N14, 1 November 1997. In 1996 Japan had a 49 per cent share of the RFE’s trade. See ‘Japan: Growing Expectation for Investment in Russian Far East’, Roundtable discussion, Tokyo Gaiko Forum in Japanese, October 1996, pp. 50–61, in FBIS, FBIS-EAS-97-010, 1 October 1996. See IEWS Regional Report, 16 October 1997. ‘Dmitrii Gornostaev, ‘Gotoviatsia vizity El’tsina na vostok’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 15 October 1997. ‘Konstantin Katanian, ‘El’tsin i Khasimoto stanut druz’iami. Nakanune’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 1 November 1997, p. 2. Russian News Agency RIA, in English, 1658 GMT, 13 November 1997, SWB, SU/3077 B/10, 15 November 1997. ‘Backstage “Eurasian Diplomacy” ’, by Yoichi Nishamura, in Tokyo Sekai, January 1998, pp. 139–47, in FBIS-EAS-98-012, 12 January 1998. The Policy Recommendations on Japan’s ODA in the Twenty-First Century, Tokyo: The Japan Forum on International Relations Inc., March 1998, p. 37. See Tsuyoshi Hasegawa, ‘Russo-Japanese Relations and the Security of North-east Asia in the 21st Century’, in Gennady Chufrin (ed.) Russia and Asia: The Emerging Security Agenda, Oxford: Oxford University Press for SIPRI, 1999, pp. 318–37, p. 334. Kyodo News Service, Tokyo, in English, 1051 GMT, 24 August, SWB, FE/3623 E/1, 26 August 1999. It is interesting to note that in September 1997, China and Japan signed a bilateral fisheries treaty which Tokyo described as ‘virtually shelving the dispute over the Senkaku Islands’. See Allen Whiting, ‘Chinese Foreign Policy: Retrospect and Prospect’, in Samuel Kim (ed.) China and the World: Chinese Foreign Policy Faces the New Millennium, pp. 287–309, p. 304. Professor Shigeki Hakamada, ‘Proposal for Building New Japanese–Russian Relations’, from ‘Tokyo Foresight’, in Japanese, August 1997, pp. 6–9, as translated in FBIS-EAS-97-296, 23 October 1997. ‘U vostochnykh vorot . . .’, discussion with Deputy Foreign Minister Grigorii Karasin, Mezhdunarodnaia zhizn’, no. 8, 1998, pp. 3–12, p. 9.

6 Russia and Japan under El’tsin: problems of international cooperation 1 Vasilii Saplin, deputy director of the MID’s Pacific Ocean and South East Asian Countries’ Department in a radio interview. BBC Summary of World Broadcasts (SWB), SU/1286, A3/2, 24 January 1992, Radio Moscow, external in Japanese, 1300 GMT, 21 January 1992. 2 Cited by Hiroshi Kimura, ‘The Soviet Military Buildup: Its Impact on Japan and Its Arms’, in Richard Solomon and Matsuka Kosaka (eds) The Soviet Far East Military Buildup: Nuclear Dilemmas and Asian Security, London: Croom Helm, 1986, pp. 106–22, p. 117. 3 Mikhail Titarenko, Rossiia i vostochnaia Aziia. Voprsoy mezhdunarodnykh i mezhtsivilizatsionnykh otnoshenii, Moscow: ‘POO Fabula’, 1994, p. 95. 4 Vladimir Ivanov, ‘Sovetskii soiuz i aziatsko-tikhookeanskii region’, MEiMO, no. 9, 1990, pp. 97–108, p. 98.

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5 Rafiz Aliev, ‘Sovetskii soiuz v vostochnoi Azii. Real’nost’ i problemy’, MEiMO, no. 9, 1990, pp. 88–97, p. 94. 6 See, for example, the statement by Vitalii Churkin of the MID on the USA in the APR, Diplomaticheskii vestnik (DV), nos 2–3, 31 January–15 February 1992, p. 37. 7 V.O. Kistanov, Iaponiia i ATR: Anatomiia ekonomicheskikh i politicheskikh otnoshenii, Moscow: RAN, ‘Vostochnaiaia literatura’, 1995, p. 290. 8 Motoo Shiina, ‘Peace in East Asia: investing in the future’, Japan Review of International Affairs, vol. 9, no. 3, Summer 1995, pp. 217–21, p. 219. 9 Admiral F. Gromov, ‘Rossiia na more’, Rossiiskaia gazeta, 16 April 1993. 10 Col. Gen. V.L. Manilov, ‘Threats to Russian national security’, Voennaia mysl’ (Military Thought), January–February 1996, pp. 7–17, p. 9. 11 Kazuo Ogawa, managing director of the Russian/East European Trade Association, talking at a roundtable discussion on ‘Russian Far East Economy: Growing Expectation for Japanese Investment’, Tokyo Gaiko Forum in Japanese, October 1996, pp. 50–61, FBIS-EAS-97–010, 1 October 1996. 12 Vladimir Petrovsky, ‘APR international security regimes: Russian participation options’, Far Eastern Affairs, no. 5, 1997, pp. 20–38, p. 34. 13 General Mekhov, ‘Voennyi aspekt territorial’noi problemy’, Krasnaia zvezda, 22 July 1992, p. 3. 14 V. Stefashin, ‘Fundamentals of Japan’s current military doctrine’, Voennaia mysl’ (Military Thought), 11 November 1993, pp. 75–80, p. 77. 15 ‘Kontseptsiia federal’noi tselevoi programmy “Mirovoi okean” ’, DV, no. 2, February 1997, pp. 24–36, p. 29. 16 In December 1996, then Defence Minister Igor’ Rodionov cited Japan as one of a number of Asian states which posed a threat to Russian security and were trying to expand their zones of influence. He also emphasised the continued importance of strategic nuclear forces. The speech was made on the eve of the visit to Moscow of the Chinese Premier, Li Peng. See Igor’ Korotchenko, ‘Igor’ Rodionov vystupil za sozdanie oboronnogo soiuza stran SNG. Bezuslovno, takaia pozitsiia vyzovet sozhalenie v NATO’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 26 December 1996, p. 1. 17 Aleksei Pushkov, ‘Amerika – novaia sverkhderzhava Evrazii’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 14 November 1997. 18 Elizabeth Van Wie Davis, ‘Who rules the waves? The arms race on the Pacific Rim’, Asian Affairs, vol. XXXVI, part III, October 1995, pp. 291–305, p. 300. 19 ‘Russia’ TV, Moscow, 1920 GMT, 11 September 1992, SWB, SU/1485, A1/1, 14 September 1992. 20 Interfax, Moscow, in English, 1645 GMT, 1 July 1993, SWB, SU/1733, A1/4, 6 July 1993. 21 Mayak Radio, Moscow, 1235 GMT, 3 July 1993, SWB, SU/1733, A1/3, 6 July 1993. 22 Hisashi Owada, ‘The role of G-8 and its future: a Japanese perspective’, Japan Review of International Affairs, vol. 8, no. 2, Spring 1994, pp. 168–95, p. 175. 23 Takashi Inoguchi, Japan’s Foreign Policy in an Era of Global Change, London: Pinter Publishers, 1993, p. 124. 24 A point made by Kazuo Ogura, Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs, in an interview with Professor Kuniko Inoguchi, ‘Global Issues Come to the Fore’, Tokyo Gaiko Forum, in Japanese, August 1996, pp. 65–71, 2 July 1996, FBIS-EAS-96–162, 1 August 1996. 25 Kuniko Inoguchi, ‘The changing significance of the G-7 summits’, Japan Review of International Affairs, vol. 8, no. 1, Winter 1994, pp. 21–38, p. 31. 26 This was the view of Foreign Minister Yohei Kono for example. See his article ‘The Course of Japan’s foreign policy’, Tokyo Gaiko Forum, in Japanese, January 1995, pp. 12–19, FBIS-EAS-95–020, 31 January 1995. 27 Jitsuro Terashima (Mitsui and Co., Washington Office), ‘Seeking an Integrated Strat-

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42 43 44

45 46 47 48 49 50

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egy for Being Both “Pro-American and Part of Asia” ’, Tokyo CHUO KORON, in Japanese, March 1996, pp. 20–38, in FBIS-EAS-96–048, 11 March 1996. Interfax, 5 June 1997. This was the view of Maj. Gen. Bolyatko, see p. 6 of his article: ‘The military– political situation and problems of forming a new security structure in Northeast Asia’, Voennaia mysl’ (Military Thought), no. 2, February 1994, pp. 2–6. See Toshiyuki Shikata, ‘Behind the redefinition of the Japan–U.S. security setup’, Japan Review of International Affairs, vol. 10, no. 4, Fall 1996, pp. 291–314, pp. 304–5. Pavel Anokhin and Evgenii Linkov, ‘ “Spornye Territorii” vyzyvaiut spory v Rossii’, Rossiiskaia gazeta, 29 July 1992. ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, in English, 1353 GMT, 15 December 1992, SWB, FE/1567, A1/2, 18 December 1992. Kyodo News Service, Tokyo, in English, 0834 GMT, 17 December 1992, SWB? ITAR-TASS News Agency, Moscow, World Service, in Russian, 1419 GMT, 18 December 1992, SWB, FE/1569, A1/7, 21 December 1992. Hashimoto apparently expressed these concerns to Helmut Kohl in November 1996. Cited in Vasilii Golovnin, ‘Neokonchennyi poedinok bogatyria i samuraia’, Novoe vremia, nos 1–2, 1997, pp. 31–5, p. 32. Shikata, ‘Behind the redefinition’, p. 309. Cited in Van Wie Davis, ‘Who Rules the Waves?’, 1995, p. 300. Motohide Saito, ‘Japan’s “Northward” Foreign Policy’, in Gerald Curtis (ed.) Japan’s Foreign Policy After the Cold War. Coping With Change, Armonk, NY and London: M.E. Sharpe, 1993, pp. 275–92, p. 281. Mr Shizo Kobrui of C. Itoh and Co., The Future of U.S.–Japanese Relations, Subcommittee on Trade of the Committee of Ways and Means, US House of Representatives, 25 February 1992. At his first press conference, in January 1996, Primakov said he would tighten control over the foreign ties of the regions, see DV, no. 2, February 1996. At a symposium on improving Russo-Japanese relations, Primakov said that the days when Moscow controlled all the economic ties of the Far East were ‘long gone’. He pledged that the regions should be given both legal and material means to manage their own foreign economic relations, in particular as the APR would be the world’s most important political and economic area in the twenty-first century. See OMRI Russian Regional Report, vol. 1, no. 4, 18 September 1996. I am grateful to Sergei Chugrov of the Institute of World Economy and International Relations (IMEMO), Moscow, for this insight. Interviewed by author 1 October 1997. Aleksei Arbatov, ‘Natsional’naia idea i natsional’naia bezopasnost’, no. 6, June 1998, part II (first part in no. 5, May 1998), MEiMO, 1998, pp. 5–19, p. 6. ‘Japan: Growing Expectation for Japanese Investment in Russian Far East’, Tokyo Gaiko Forum, in Japanese, October 1996, pp. 50–61, Roundtable discussion moderated by Kinji Shinoda, Russian Division, Foreign Ministry, FBIS-EAS-97–010, 1 October 1996. Nobuo Miyamoto, ‘Discord in the Quartet of Japan, the US, China and Russia’, Chuo Koron, February 1998, pp. 138–49, FBIS-EAS-98–031, 31 January 1998. Yoshihide Soeya, ‘The Japan–U.S. alliance in a changing Asia’, Japan Review of International Affairs, vol. 10, no. 4, Fall 1996, pp. 265–75, p. 269. ITAR-TASS, in English, 3 March 1995, FBIS-SOV-95–044, 7 March 1995. Reported in DV, no. 5, May 1996, p. 29. See DV, no. 1, January 1997, press conference with Deputy Foreign Minister Igor’ Ivanov, ‘On the main results of foreign policy in 1996’, pp. 32–6, p. 36. See ‘MID i Minoborony Rossii nachinaiut deistvovat’ soglasovanno’, Segodnia, 19 May 1997, p. 2.

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51 RFE/RL Daily Digest, part I, no. 17, 27 January 1998. 52 Masaru Honda, ‘A dangerous quadrangle for Japan’, Asahi Shimbun, 15 November 1996, cited by V.O. Kistanov, ‘Iaponiia i perspektiva rossiisko-kitaiskogo strategicheskogo partnerstva’, Problemy dal’nego vostoka, no. 2, 1997, pp. 48–56, p. 54. 53 Shigeki Hakamada, ‘Proposal for Building New Japanese–Russian Relations’, Tokyo Foresight, in Japanese, August 1997, pp. 6–9, FBIS-EAS-97–296, 23 October 1997. 54 A. Markov, ‘Problemy rossiisko-iaponskikh otnoshenii’, Mezhdunarodnaia zhizn’, no. 10, 1995, pp. 46–55, p. 51. The author is a senior researcher at the Institute of the Far East, Moscow. 55 Author’s interview with Valerii Kistanov, researcher at the Institute of Oriental Studies, Moscow, October 1997. 56 Aleksei Zagorsky, ‘Russian Policy on Korean Peninsula in Search of an Identity’, in Aleksei Zagorsky (ed.) Korean Peninsula in Northeast Asian Regional Affairs, Moscow: IMEMO, 1997, pp. 71–84, p. 75. 57 Kistanov, ‘Iaponiia i perspektiva’, p. 53. 58 I would take issue therefore with Martha Brill Olcott’s view that Russia ‘seems unperturbed’ by Japanese proposals to build a pipeline from Turkmenistan to China, see her Central Asia’s New States, Washington, DC: US Institute of Peace Press, 1996, p. 149. 59 Such is the view of Vladimir Miasnikov, the eminent Sinologist. See ‘Aziatskie gosudarstva SNG v politike Kitaia i Iaponii’, in S.L. Tikhvinksii (ed.) Rossiia i strany blizhnego zarubezh’ia. Vneshnepoliticheskie orientiry, Moscow: Institut rossiiskoi istorii, pp. 156–66, p. 165. 60 I.N. Kommissina, ‘Iaponskii aspekt’, in Otrkytaia politika, no. 6, 1998, pp. 66–73, p. 73. 61 See, for example, Aleksei Solodov, ‘Teploe mesto pusto ne byvaet. Iapontsy aktivno osvaiuvaiut sredneaziatskii rynok’, Rossiiskaia gazeta, 22 June 1995, p. 6, and Sergei Agafonov, ‘Srednaiaa Aziia blizhee k Iaponiei, chem k Rossiiei’, Izvestiia, 30 August 1995, p. 3. 62 I.M. Latyshev, ‘Iaponiia i strany blizhnego zarubezh’ia’, in A.M. Khazanov et al. (eds) Rossiia: Blizhnee i dal’nee zarubezh’e Azii, Moscow, 1996, pp. 144–51, p. 148. 63 See Valerii Kistanov, ‘El’tsin i Khasimoto vstretiatsia v tsentre Evrazii. Rossiia i Iaponiia nakanune XXI veka: sostoits’ia li dolgozhdannyi proryv v otnosheniiakh’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 30 October 1997, p. 5. 64 Address by Prime Minister Ryutaro Hashimoto to the Japan Association of Corporate Executives, 24 July 1997. 65 Zbigniew Brzezinski, The Grand Chessboard: American Primacy and Its Discontents, 1997, New York: HarperCollins, p. 177. 66 See Terashima, ‘Seeking an Integrated Strategy’. 7 Russian policy towards China under Putin 1 Hong Kong Zhongguo Tongxun she, in Chinese, 1221 GMT, FBIS-CHI-2000–0717. 17 July 2000. 2 ‘AFP: Russian Official Predicts PRC–Russia Cooperation To Defeat TMD’, Hong Kong AFP, in English, 1053 GMT, 18 July 2000, FBIS-CHI-2000-0718. 3 ‘Text of Jiang–Putin Joint Statement on Antimissile Issue’, Beijing Xinhua Domestic Service, in Chinese, 0738 GMT, 18 July 2000, FBIS-CHI-2000-0718. 4 See I.S. Ivanov, Vneshniaia politika Rossii v epokhu globalizatsii: stati i vstupleniia, Moscow: Olma-press, 2002, p. 45. 5 ‘Jiang Zemin, Putin Hold Talks, Sign Documents 18 Jul’, Beijing Xinhua Domestic Service, in Chinese, 0959 GMT, 18 July 2000, FBIS-CHI-2000-0718. 6 Lt. Gen. V.I. Ostankov, Director of Center for Military–Strategic Studies of the

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23 24 25 26 27 28

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General Staff, ‘Geopolitical problems and possible solutions in the context of Russian Federation security’, Military Thought, vol. 14, no. 1, 2005, pp. 23–9, p. 28. Lt. Gen. A.F. Klimenko, ‘The evolution of China’s military policy and military doctrine’, Military Thought, vol. 14, no. 2, 2005, pp. 45–62, p. 59. Vasilii Mikheev, Kitai: ugrozy, riski, vyzovy razvitiiu, Moscow: Moscow Carnegie Center, 2005, p. 39. Vladimir Mukhomel, ‘Svoimi ksenofobiiami my lish’ usugubliaem problemy’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 6 October 2004, p. 2. Yu Bin, Comparative Connections, July–September 2003, available at www.csis.org/pacfor/cc//0303QChina-rus.html, accessed 10.03.2004. See BBC News, 24 November 2003, 20.36 GMT for details. For example, a report cited a Chinese chef as saying ‘We fear the police just as much as the thugs . . .’, ‘Ot “druzhby narodov”, do “voiny natsii” ’, Izvestiia, 11 November 2005, p. 3. See V.A. Kolosov (ed.) Mir glazami Rossian: mify i vneshniaia politika, Moscow: Institut Fonda ‘Obshchestvennoe mnenie’, 2003, p. 127. Cited in RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 9, no. 125, part I, 1 July 2005. Confirmed in talks with officials (anonymous) in Moscow, September 2005. Dov Lynch, ‘Struggling with an indispensable partner’, in Dov Lynch (ed.) What Russia Sees, Chaillot Paper no. 74, January 2005, Paris: Institute for Security Studies, European Union, p. 123. Lynch, ‘Struggling with an indispensable partner’, p. 130. See articles V and VI of the Joint Russo-Chinese Declaration of 2 December 2002, DV, no. 1, 2003, p. 16. Yu Bin, ‘At the dawn of a unipolar world’, Comparative Connections, January–March 2003, available at www.csis.org/pacfor/cc/0301Qchina-rus.html, accessed 8 October 2003. See ‘Sovmestnaia deklaratsiia Rossiiskoi Federatsii i Kitaiskoi Narodnoi Respubliki, Moskva, Kreml’ 27 maia 2003 goda’, available at www.mid.ru/brp_4.nsf/sps/ BE75398250C2AAAA43256D330052538E, accessed 5 April 2004. ‘Sovmestnaia deklaratsiia Rossiiskoi Federatsii i Kitaiskoi Narodnoi Respubliki’, ‘Joint Declaration’ of 27 May 2003. ‘Zaiavleniia dlia pressy Prezidenta Rossii V.V. Putina i Predsedatelia Kitaiskoi Narodnoi Respubliki Xu Tsin’taoi i otvety na voprosy zhurnalistov po okonchanii rossiisko-kitaiskikh peregovorov, Moskva, 27 maia 2003 goda’, available at www.mid.ru/brp_4.nsf/sps/76CO4FB86CB13A8F43256D340032EEFB, accessed 18 July 2006. See ‘Sovmestnaia deklaratsiia Rossiiskoi Federatsii i Kitaiskoi Narodnoi Respubliki’, 14.10.2004, available at www.mid.ru/brp_4.nsf/sps/723D6C718186/ e6CAC3256 F2E0023EC0C, accessed 29 August 2006. See ‘O zavershenii protsessa iuridicheskogo oformleniia gosudarstvennoi granitsy mezhdu Rossiei i Kitaem’, 15.10.2004, available at www.mid.ru/brp_4.nsf/sps/ 6B943BDA2CA7206BC3256F2E0026C896, accessed 29 August 2006. See ‘Sovmestnoe rossiisko-kitaiskoe kommiunike’, 3 July 2005, available at www.mid.ru/brp_4.nsf/sps/9E630354A58B1A6FC325703400271272, accessed 24 August 2006. ‘Sovmestnaia deklaratsiia Rossiiskoi Federatsii i Kitaiskoi Narodnoi Respubliki, 21 March 2006, available at www.mid.ru/brp_4.nsf/sps/7B99346352A829E4C325 7139002EA173, accessed 16 May 2006. Yu Bin, ‘Coping with the post-Kosovo fallout’, Comparative Connections, third quarter, 1999, available at www.csis.org/pacfor./cc/993Qchina-rus.html, accessed 7 July 2001. RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 4, no. 50, 10 March 2000.

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29 See Hong Kong AFP, in English, 1053 GMT, 18 July 2000, in FBIS-CHI-20000718. 30 See www.rferl.org, 11 July 2002. 31 Figures taken from Aleksandr Lukin and Sergei Sanakoev, Rossiiskii podkhod k Kitaiu na rubezhe vekov: problemy i resheniia, Moscow: Analiticheskie zapiski, Tsnetr issledovanii Vostochnoi Azii i Shos, MGIMO, 2005, p. 25. 32 See Vilya Gelbras, ‘Chinese Migration into the Russian Regions: A New Phase’, in Russia’s New Southern Border: Western Siberia–Central Asia, London: IISS, Issue 2, 2001, pp. 43–4. 33 Elena Tikhomirova, ‘Net takogo zvena, za kotoroe mozhno dernut’, i vse zatsvetet’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 23 July 2004, p. 3. 34 Ekaterina Grigor’eva, ‘Utrom Nakhodka, vecherom Datsin’, Izvestiia, 15 October 2004, p. 1 and p. 3. 35 See Jeanne L. Wilson, Strategic Partners: Russian–Chinese Relations in the PostSoviet Era, Armonk, NY and London: M.E. Sharpe, 2004, p. 65. 36 Vasily Mikheev emphasised this to me in a meeting in Moscow at IMEMO, September 2005. 37 As reported in ‘You Can See a Long Way from a Skyscraper (by staff correspondent Dmitry Privalov. Trud. 23 August 2002, pp. 1, 4, condensed text), CDPSP, vol. 54, no. 34 (2002), p. 18. See also, Igor’ Ivanov, ‘Rossiia i Kitai – sosna i bambuk’, reproduced in DV, no. 1, 2003, pp. 11–14. p. 13. 38 Figures cited in Lukin and Sanakoev, Rossiiskii podkhod k Kitaiu, p. 24. 39 ‘China Won’t Hinder Russia from Joining WTO’ (by Aleksei Chichkin, Rossiiskaya gazeta, 24 August 2002, pp. 1–2), CDPSP, vol. 54, no. 34 (2002), p. 18. 40 See Lukin and Sanakoev, Rossiiskii podkhod k Kitaiu, p. 21. 41 Interview with Deputy Foreign Minister Losiukov, December 2002, in DV, no. 1, 2003, pp. 96–101. 42 See www.mid.ru for the full text. 43 Vladimir Kucherenko, ‘Attack on defence industry is afoot’, Rossiiskaia gazeta, 11 November 1999, in CDPSP, vol. 51, no. 45, 1999, 8 December, p. 20. 44 As an anonymous official told the author, Moscow, September 2005. 45 RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 4, no. 51, 13 March 2000. 46 Antonio Sanchez-Andres, ‘Arms exports and restructuring in the Russian defence industry, exports . . .’, Europe-Asia Studies, vol. 56, no. 5, July 2004, pp. 687–706, p. 702. 47 RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 4, no. 58, 22 March 2000. 48 See remarks of Deputy Prime Minister Klebanov in March 2000, RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 4, no. 48, 8 March 2000. 49 RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 4, no. 58, 22 March 2000. 50 ‘Nonequilateral Triangle’ (by Viktor Litovkin, military commentator for the RIA Novosti News Agency), Vremya MN, 3 December 2002, p. 5, CDPSP, vol. 54, no. 49 (2002), pp. 5–6. 51 ‘Moscow–Beijing: Arms, Technologies and Money’ (by Vitaly Mikhailov, Russky kuryer, 19 December 2003, p. 2), CDPSP, vol. 55, no. 51 (2003), p. 17. 52 Aleksander Nemets, ‘The modernization of the PLA Navy’, Chinese Military Update, RUSI, September/October 2004, vol. 2, no. 3, pp. 6–8, p. 7. 53 See The Military Balance 2006, London: IISS, 2006, p. 254. 54 Bates Gill, ‘China as a Regional Military Power’, in Barry Buzan and Rosemary Foot (eds) Does China Matter? A Reassessment. Essays in Memory of Gerald Segal, London and New York: Routledge, 2004, pp. 124–43, p. 141. 55 Cited in Yu Bin, ‘One year later: Geopolitics or Geoeconomics?’, CC, available at www.csis.org/pacfor/cc/0203QChina-rus.html, accessed 11 November 2004.

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56 Comment of Evgenii Bazhanov, Deputy Director of the Diplomatic Academy, Moscow, September 2005, in conversation with the author. 57 Aleksandr Khramchikhin, head of the analytical department of the Institute of Political and Military Analysis, cited in RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 9, no. 156, part I, 18 August 2005. 58 Mikhail Lukin, ‘Peace Mission 2005: a 1970s template for Sino-Russian “peacekeeping” ’, in Moscow Defense Brief, no. 2(4), 2005, pp. 15–19, p. 15. 59 See Ivan Safronov and Andrei Ivanov, ‘Russian general staff loses wargames’, from Kommersant, 23 March 2005, in CDPSP, vol. 57, no. 12 (2005), p. 24. 60 See Lukin, ‘Peace Mission 2005’, p. 16. 61 Lukin, ‘Peace Mission 2005’, p. 17. 62 The Military Balance 2006, p. 152. 63 Dmitrii Trenin, review of book by Konstantin Makienko, Russian–Chinese Military–Technical Cooperation in 1992–2002, 18 February 2004, available at http://eng.globalaffairs.ru/books, last accessed, 8 June 2006. 64 See Ministerstvo promyshlennosti i energetiki Rossii: Energiticheskaia strategiia Rossii, available at www.mte.gov.ru, accessed 24 June 2005. 65 Sergei Sokut and Vladimir Mukhin, ‘Military thought at a crossroads’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 20 January 2003, CDPSP, vol. 55, no. 3, 2003. 66 Aleksandr Khramchikhin, cited in RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 9, part I, 18 August 2005. 67 See Erica S. Downs, ‘The Chinese energy security debate’, The China Quarterly, March 2004, pp. 21–41, and Philip Andrews-Speed et al., The Strategic Implications of China’s Energy Needs, New York and London: Oxford University Press for IISS, 2002, for further details. 68 See Downs, ‘The Chinese energy security debate’, p. 23. 69 According to the Russian Sinologist Vasilii Mikheev, author’s interview, September 2005, IMEMO, Moscow. 70 Interviews with Chinese media by First Deputy Prime Minister D.A. Medvedev, 20 March 2006, available at www.mid.ru/brp_4.nsf/sps/C9E64F81E0DC5487C3257 137002F2FF1, accessed 15 May 2006. 71 See Clifford G. Gaddy and Barry W. Ickes, ‘Resource rents and the Russian economy’, Eurasian Geography and Economics, vol. 46, no. 8, pp. 559–83, pp. 566–7. 72 Gaddy and Ickes, ‘Resource Rents’, p. 367. 73 See ‘The Siberia–Pacific Oil Pipeline will run in 350–400 km from Lake Baikal’, available at www.greenpeace.org/russia/en/news/the-siberia-pacific-oil-pipeli, 30 May 2006, accessed 4 July 2006. 74 This point was made to me by Vasilii Mikheev in a meeting at IMEMO, September 2005. 75 Michael Lelyveld, ‘Russia/China: Joint Pipeline Plan Makes Slow Progress’, 27 August 2002, available at www.rferl.org/features/2002/08/27082002153740.asp accessed 10 April 2005. 76 Author’s meeting with anonymous officials in Moscow, September 2005. 77 This was confirmed to me also in a meeting with Mikheev at IMEMO, September 2005 (researcher, IMEMO, and head of the Asia programme at the Carnegie Center, Moscow). 78 See Jeremy Page, ‘Longest pipeline is halted to save the lake and leopard’, Times Online, available at www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,3–1663622,00.html, accessed 22 June 2005. 79 Liu Tzaitsi, ‘Vneshniaia politika KNR i perspektivy kitaisko-rossiiskikh otnoshenii’, MEiMO, no. 9, 2004, pp. 84–90, p. 88. 80 Interview with Pulikovskii, Rossiiskaia gazeta, in Russian, 15 July 2000, FBIS-CHI2000-0717.

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81 See Dmitrii Kosyrev, ‘Putin postavil vopros. Lingvisticheskii ili politicheskii? Problema ne v tom, na kakom iazyke budut govorit dal’nevostochniki, a v otsutstvii osmyslennoi politiki Moskvy v etom regione Rossii’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 22 July 2000, p. 1. 82 For details see Igor’ Verba, ‘Polzuchaia ekspansiia velikogo soseda. Kitaiskii kriminalitet ukrepliaet svoi pozitsii na Dal’nem Vostoke’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 17 February 2001, p. 1. 83 It was reported in June 2001 that Putin had told Prime Minister Kasianov to ‘sort out’ the RFE; Kasianov replied that he would ‘sort it out next week’, BBC Monitoring Global Newsline, APR Political, 18 June 2001. 84 See ‘Hu Jintao Mon Amur – Russia and China complete Border Demarcation’ (by Alexander Lomanov, Vremya novostei, 15 October 2004, p. 1), in CDPSP, vol. 56, no. 42 (2004), p. 2. 85 Cited in ‘Khabarovsk Deputies Cross All Bounds Along the River – They Urge Vladimir Putin to Breach Treaty with China’ (by Marina Ilyushchenko and Ernest Filippovsky, Kommersant, 22 October 2004, pp. 1, 3), in CDPSP, vol. 56, no. 42 (2004), p. 4. 86 ‘Khabarovsk Deputies Cross All Bounds.’ 87 ‘Hu Jintao, Mon Amur’ Russia and China Complete Border Demarcation. 88 According to Vil’ia Ge’lbras, Migratsiia i bezopasnost’ v Rossii, p. 192. 89 RFE/RL Newsline,vol. 6, no. 157, 21 August 2002. 90 See Elizabeth Wishnick, ‘Far East Federal Okrug’, in Peter Reddaway and Robert Ortung (eds) Russia’s Regions, pp. 243–75, p. 268. 91 Cited in RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 6, no. 11, 25 April 2001. 92 See, for example, RRR, vol. 10, no. 12, 21 July 2005. 93 Yu Bin, ‘At the dawn of a unipolar world’, CC, January–March 2003, available at www.csis.org/pacfor/cc/0301Qchina-rus.html, accessed 10 June 2003. 94 See RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 11, no. 61, part I, 16 January 2007. 95 See RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 11, no. 61, part I, 2 April 2007. 96 See interview with Deputy Foreign Minister A.P. Losiukov with ITAR-TASS, 5 December 2002, in DV, no. 1, 2003, pp. 96–101, p. 100. This was also confirmed to me in a meeting with an official source in Moscow in September 2005 (anonymous). 97 Communicated to me by the same anonymous source in September 2005. 98 Cited in ‘Benzene Slick on the Authorities’ Reputation’, 26 December 2005, available at www.greenpeace.org/russia/en/press/releases/benzene-slick-on-the-authoriti, accessed 4 July 2006. 99 Ibid. 100 See Sergei Blagov, ‘Russia concerned by China’s chemical pollution’, Monday, 18 September 2006, Eurasia Daily Monitor, vol. 3, no. 171, and ‘Otvet ofitsial’nogo predstavitelia MID Rossii M.L. Kamynina na vopros ITAR-TASS’, 28 August 2006, available at www.mid.ru/brp_4.nsf/sps/4D1F7B7A5ABAC2C9C32571 D8005796F3, accessed 11 May 2007. 101 See F. Lasserre, ‘The Amur River border: once a symbol of conflict could it turn into a water resource stake?’ Revue Europeene de Geographie, no. 242, pp. 1–37. 102 A. Lukin, ‘Shankhaiskaia organizatsiia sotrudnichestva: problem i perspektivy’, Mezhdunarodnaia zhizn’, no. 3, 2004, p. 119. 103 Lena Jonson, Vladimir Putin and Central Asia: The Shaping of Russian Foreign Policy, London: I.B. Tauris, 2004, p. 63. 104 See Zhao Hua-chen, Kitai, Tsentral’naia Aziia i Shankhaiskaia Organizatsiia Sotrudnichestva, Carnegie Moscow Center Working Papers no. 5, 2005, p. 9. 105 PRC’s Chi Haotian Meets Russian Defence Minister, Beijing Xinhua Domestic Service, in Chinese, 1634 GMT, 29 March 2000, FBIS-CHI-2000-0329.

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106 PRC, Russian ForMins Discuss Ties, Chechnya, Taiwan Issue, Beijing Xinhua Domestic Service, in Chinese, 1544 GMT, 29 February 2000, FBIS-CHI-20000229. 107 See DV, no. 1, 2003, p. 16. 108 Interview with Aleksandr Losiukov, in Vremia novostei, ‘Rech’ ne o tom kogo Rossiia predpochtet – Iaponiiu ili Kitai’, 24 July 2003, reproduced at www.mid.ru/brp_4.nsf/sps/FA555B1DA81EFA1D43256D6D00295A99, 24 July 2003, 15 December 2005. 109 John Hill, ‘China publishes Xinjiang “terrorists” list’, Jane’s Intelligence Review, April 2004, pp. 52–3. 110 Alex Pravda, ‘Putin’s Foreign Policy after 11 September: Radical or Revolutionary?’, in Gabriel Gorodetsky (ed.) Russia between East and West, London: Frank Cass, 2003, pp. 39–57, p. 52. 111 S. Neil MacFarlane, ‘The United States and regionalism in Central Asia’, International Affairs (London), vol. 80, no. 3 (May 2004), pp. 447–61, p. 459. 112 MacFarlane, ‘The United States and regionalism’, p. 458. 113 V. Mikheev, ‘Kitai: Novye komponenty strategii razvitiia’, in MEIMO, 2004, no. 7, pp. 48–56, p. 55. 114 See Chzao Khuashen, Kitai, Tsentral’naia Aziia i Shankhaiskaia organizatsiia sotrudnichestva, no. 5, p. 55. 115 See Chien-peng Chung, ‘The Shanghai Co-operation Organization: China’s changing influence in Central Asia’, China Quarterly, December 2004, pp. 988–1009, p. 994. 116 Chung, ‘The Shanghai Co-operation Organization’, pp. 992–3. 117 Chung, ‘The Shanghai Co-operation Organization’, p. 993. 118 Hsiu-ling Wu and Chien-Hsun Chen, ‘China and Central Asia’, in Europe-Asia Studies, vol. 56, no. 7, November 2004, pp. 1059–80, p. 1070. 119 Cited in Yu Bin, ‘Beautiful relationship in a dangerous world’, Comparative Connections, Second Quarter, 2002, www.csis.pacfor.net. 120 Chung, The Shanghai Cooperation Organization, p. 1009. 121 See Yu Bin, ‘Back to geostrategics’, Comparative Connections, January–March 2005, available at www.csis.org/pacfor/cc/0501Qchina-rus.html, accessed 7 July 2005. 122 Kenneth Allen, ‘China’s foreign military relations: 2003–2004’, Chinese Military Update, RUSI, vol. 2, no. 5, pp. 3–7, p. 6. 123 Cited in Lukin, ‘Shankhaiskaia organizatsiia sotrudnichestva’, p. 118. 124 President Hu of China, speech to SCO summit, 5 July 2005, available at the Chinese Foreign Ministry website, www.fmprc.gov.uk, last accessed 10 July 2006. 125 See www.rferl.org, Friday, 21 July 2006, for details. 126 Author’s interview with officials in Moscow, September 2005. 127 Interfax, 27 December 2000, cited in RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 2, no. 248, part I, 29 December 2000. 128 RFE/RL Newsline, part I, 15 July 2005. 129 For more details see, for example, Wade Boese, ‘Nuclear Deal Center Stage for US, India’, available at www.armscontrol.org/act/2006_03/MARCH/-usindia.asp, accessed 21 May 2007. 130 ‘Sovmestnoe kommiunike po itogam trekhstoronnei vstrechi ministrov inostrannykh del Indii, Rossi ii Kitaia’, 14 February 2007, available at www.mid.ru/brp_ 4.nsf/sps/776A927605FE053CC3257282006347C8, accessed 18 April 2007. 131 Comments by energy expert John Roberts in a meeting at Chatham House, 2006. 132 See Daniel Kimmage, ‘Central Asia: Turkmenistan–China Pipeline Project Has FarReaching Implications’, available at www.rferl.org/featuresarticle/2006/04/ 55f9574d-407a-4777–9724–944e6c2ecd7 . . ., accessed 4 July 2006.

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133 Mikheev, Kitai, p. 19. 134 Barry Buzan and Ole Waever, Regions and Powers: The Structure of International Security, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003, p. 177. 135 See Paul A. Papayanou, ‘Great Powers and Regional Orders: Possibilities and Prospects after the Cold War’, in David Lake and Patrick M. Morgan (eds) Regional Orders: Building Security in a New World, Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1997, pp. 125–39, p. 135. 136 Susan Shirk, ‘Asia-Pacific Regional Security: A Concert or a Balance of Powers?’, in Lake and Morgan (eds) Regional Orders, pp. 245–71, p. 268. 137 See President Hu Jintao’s speech at Harvard University in December 2003 when he first used the term ‘peaceful rise’, and see Christopher R. Hughes, Chinese Nationalism in the Global Era, London and New York: Routledge, 2006, p. 142. 138 See Michael Swaine, ‘The 2004 Chinese Defence White Paper’, in Chinese Military Update, RUSI, vol. 2, no. 5, pp. 1–3, p. 2. 139 See ‘China’s National Defense in 2006’, available at www.chinadaily.com.cn/ china/2006–12/29/content_771191_2.htm, accessed 9 May 2007. 140 Rosemary Foot, ‘Chinese strategies in a US-hegemonic global order: accommodating and hedging’, International Affairs (London), vol. 82, no. 1, January 2006, pp. 77–95, p. 94. 141 Lawrence Freedman, ‘China as a Global Strategic Actor’, in Buzan and Foot (eds) Does China Matter?, pp. 21–37, p. 21. 8 Russian policy towards Japan under Putin 1 Cited in Muneo Suzuki, ‘The process of deepening mutual understanding lays the groundwork for new Japanese–Russian relations’, Far Eastern Affairs, no. 1, 2001, pp. 15–22, p. 22. 2 See, for example, Nezavisimoe voennoe obrozrenie, no. 7, February 2001. 3 Dmitrii Trenin, End of Eurasia: Russia on the Border between Geopolitics and Globalization, Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, p. 222. 4 Cited in Izvestiia, November 2005, survey by Social Opinion Fund. 5 Georgii Il’ichev, ‘Bol’shinstvo rossiian sovetuiut Iapontsam zabyt’ pro Kurily’, Izvestiia, 11 November 2005. 6 Survey information cited in Tat’iana Anikina, Rosiisko-iaponskie otnosheniia: perspektivy progressa, Analyticheskie zapiski, Moscow: MGIMO, Center for the Study of Problems of War and Peace, issue 3(5), February 2005, p. 22. 7 See surveys in D.V. Strel’tsov, ‘Obraz Rossii v sovremennoi Iaponii: faktory formirovaniia’, in: E.V. Molodiakov (ed.) Rossiia i Iaponiia: sosedi v novom tysiacheletii, Moscow: AIRO-XX, 2004, pp. 74–97, p. 91. 8 See Strel’tsov, ‘Obraz Rossii’, p. 93. 9 See Chapter 4, Japan in the El’tsin period. 10 RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 4, no. 215, part I, 6 November 2000. 11 Moscow, ITAR-TASS, in English, 1421 GMT, 26 May 2001, FBIS-SOV-2001-0526. 12 Suzuki, ‘The Process of Deepening Mutual Understanding’. 13 Joseph Ferguson, ‘Japan and Russia: a return to the deep-freeze?’ Comparative Connections, Third Quarter (July–September 2000). 14 See Sergei Chugrov, ‘Ot otnoshenii bez mirnogo dogovora k otenosheniiam s dogovorom’, in Mooldiakov (ed.) Rossiia i Iaponiia, pp. 98–116, p. 100. 15 Moscow ITAR-TASS, in English, 1008 GMT, 27 May 2001, FBIS-SOV-2001-0527. 16 Tokyo Sankei Shimbun, Internet version in Japanese, 28 March 2001, FBIS-EAS2001-0328. 17 Moscow, Interfax, in English, 1242 GMT, 30 April 2001, FBIS-SOV-2001-0430.

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18 See interview with ‘high-ranking source’ in Rossiiskaia gazeta by Anatolii Iurkov, 7 July 2001, Seoul Cheson Ilbo, in English, FBIS-EAS-2001-0708. 19 RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 5, 3 August 2001. 20 Interfax, Oil and Gas Report, 26 July 2001, FBIS-SOV-2001-0718. 21 Seoul Yonhap, in English, 0446 GMT, 30 July 2001, FBIS-EAS-2001-0730. 22 See RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 45, no. 50, 13 March 2001. 23 ‘Big Fish – Mikhail Kasianov catches Yevgeny Nazdratenko over Quotas’, by Vladmir Demchenko, Izvestiia, 15 February 2003, in CDPSP, vol. 55, no. 7 (2003). 24 See ‘Furore over reduction of Primorskii krai’s fishing quotas’, Izvestiia, reproduced in CDPSP, vol. 55, nos 1–2, 15 January 2003. 25 RRR, vol. 5, no. 41, 8 November 2000. 26 RRR, vol. 11, no. 7, 19 March 2006. 27 For details of this and other issues relating to the fishing industry and bilateral relations, see Brad Williams, ‘The criminalisation of Russo-Japanese border trade: causes and consequences’, Europe-Asia Studies, vol. 55, no. 5, pp. 711–28. 28 RRR, 19 March 2006. 29 RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 4, no. 219, 10 November 2000. 30 Cited in Interfax, Moscow, in English, 16 May 2001, FBIS-SOV-2001-0526. 31 19 April 2001, Moscow Interfax, in English, 1032 GMT, FBIS-SOV-2001-0419. 32 See CDPSP, vol. 54, no. 14, 2002, p. 18. 33 Verbal communication from Fiona Hill, 2006. 34 See Axel Berkofsky, Corruption and Bribery in Japan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs: the Case of Muneo Suzuki, Japan Policy Research Institute Working Paper, no. 86, June 2002. 35 See Novye Izvestiia, 19 March 2002, in CDPSP, vol. 54, no. 12, 2002. 36 See Jamestown Monitor, Tuesday, 5 February 2002, vol. VII, issue 25 for details. 37 For more on the Suzuki affair, see Axel Berkofsky, Corruption and Bribery in Japan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs. 38 Interview with Yomuri Shimbun, 12 April 2002, reproduced in Diplomaticheskii vestnik, no. 5, 2002, p. 105. 39 Statement by the MID on Japan, 22 March, in DV, no. 4, 2002, p. 132. 40 ‘Japan wants to forget the past’, by Vasilii Golovnin, Izvestiia, 29 August 2002, p. 4, in CDPSP, vol. 54, no. 3, 2002. 41 Cited in RFE/RL Security Watch, 1 July 2004 (www.rferl.org). 42 DV, no. 2, 2003, pp. 23–35. 43 See ‘Joint Statement on the Official Visit to Japan by Chairman of the Government of the Russian Federation Kasyanov’, available at www.mofa.go.jp/region/europe/ russia/joint0312.html, last accessed 10 November 2005. 44 Mikhail Galuzin, ‘Rossiia–Iaponiia: Razviazok poka ne naideno’, Mezhdunarodnaia zhizn’, June 2005, pp. 82–93, p. 90. 45 Cited in ‘Islands in the Fog’ (by Aleksandr Lomanov. Vremya novostei, 16 November 2004, pp. 1–2), in CDPSP, vol. 56, no. 46 (2004), p. 4. 46 See ‘New Foreign Minister appointed in Japan – policy toward Russia will remain unchanged’ (by Andrei Fesyun, RIA Novosti Correspondent in Tokyo, Vremya novostei, 28 September 2004), in CDPSP, vol. 56, no. 39 (2004), p. 19. 47 Konstantin Sarkisov, ‘Prazdnik bez fanfar’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 4 February 2005, p. 6. 48 See A. Komaki and M. Tsuruoka, ‘Hopes fade for end to Northern Territories dispute’, The Asahi Shimbun, 9 February 2005, available at www.asahi.com/english/ politics/TKY200502090152.html, accessed 1 April 2005. 49 See Aleksandr Lomanov, Vremya novostei, 16 November 2004, in CDPSP, vol. 56, no. 46, 2004. 50 Sergei Lavrov, cited in RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 9, no. 132, 15 July 2005.

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51 See Galuzin, ‘Rossiia-Iaponiia’, p. 85. 52 ‘Absence of peace treaty no barrier to normal Russia–Japan ties – Russian Ambassador to Tokyo Alexander Losyukov’, Moscow, 19 December 2005, 4.16 pm, available at www.interfax.ru, last accessed 11 April 2006. 53 See RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 10, no. 151, part I, 17 August 2006. 54 Cited in I.L. Timonina, ‘Dal’nii Vostok Rossii-Iaponiia: grani ekonomicheskogo sotrudnichestva’, in Molodiakov (ed.) Rossiia i Iaponiia, pp. 138–63, p. 141. 55 Noted by Timonina, ‘Dal’nii Vostok Rossii-Iaponiia’, p. 159. 56 RRR, vol. 11, no. 4, 1 February 2006. 57 Timonina ‘Dal’nii Vostok Rossii-Iaponiia’, pp. 143–4. 58 Cited in Interfax, Moscow, in English,16 May 2001, FBIS-SOV-2001-0516. 59 Timonina, ‘Dal’nii Vostok Rossii-Iaponiia’, p. 156. 60 See Shigeru Sato, ‘Japan, Russia Agree to Boost Energy Relations, Trade’, 26 February 2007, 04.56 est, Bloomberg, available at www.bloomberg.com/apps.news? pid=20601101&sid=aNVU0G7nNoDg&refer . . ., accessed 12 May 2007. 61 Frank Umbach, Global Energy Supply and Geopolitical Challenges, available at www.dgap.org/midcom-serveattachmentguid-905188b0c9fd11da9fe805c4c30548 ca48ca?Asia_and_Europe_umbach+(1).pdf. 62 See, for example, RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 10, no. 179, part I, 27 September 2006 and Carl Mortishead, ‘Shell forced to admit Russian costs have doubled’, The Times (London), Friday, 15 July 2005, p. 44. 63 RFE/RL Newsline, vol. 10, no. 179, part I, 27 September 2006. 64 ‘Russian Cabinet Approves Foreign-Investment Curb’, Wednesday, 31 January 2007, available at www.rferl.og.features/features_Article.aspx?m=01&y=2007&id= DD9EE006, accessed 12 May 2007. 65 Details in E. Grebenshchikov, ‘Tikhookeanskaia Rossiia i Iaponiia: regionalizatsiia otnoshenii’, MEiMO, no. 1, 2004, pp. 89–97. 66 E-mail from Shoichi Itoh, researcher at Economic Research Institute of Northeast Asia (ERINA), Niigata, Japan, 22 June 2005. 67 See Anikina, ‘Rossiisko-iaponskie otnosheniia’, p. 15. 68 See Umbach, Global Energy Supply. 69 E-mail from Shoichi Itoh, researcher at ERINA, 26 May 2005. 70 Grebenshchikov, ‘Tikhookeanskaia Rossiia’, p. 96. 71 Timonina, ‘Dal’nii Vostok Rossii-Iaponiia’, p. 157. 72 Grebenshchikov, ‘Tikhookeanskaia Rossiia’, p. 96. 73 See speech by Mr Taro Aso, Minister for Foreign Affairs at the Japan National Press Club, ‘Central Asia as a Corridor of Peace and Stability’, 1 June 2006 (unofficial translation), available at www.mofa.go.jp, last accessed 29 June 2006. 74 Christopher W. Hughes, Japan’s Re-emergence as a ‘Normal’ Military Power, Oxford and New York: OUP for IISS, Adelphi Paper 368–9, p. 112. 75 Cited in The Japan Times, Wednesday, 19 October 2005, available at www.japantimes.co.jp, last accessed 8 November 2005. 76 Japanese Ambassador to the UK, talk to the Japan Discussion Group at Chatham House, 17 October 2005. 77 Chinese Deputy Foreign Minister Wu Dawei, cited in ‘China: Beijing Says Relations with Tokyo Worst in 30 Years’, RFE/RL, Monday, 18 April 2005, available at http:www.rferl.org/featuresarticleprint/2005/04, last accessed 31 May 2005. 78 This was the reason given by the Japanese Ambassador to the UK. 79 Japanese Ambassador to the UK, talk to the Japan Discussion Group at Chatham House, 17 October 2005. 80 See East Asia Policy Report, available at www.ceac.jp/e/pdf/policy.report_e.pdf, accessed 8 May 2007. 81 Hughes, Japan’s Re-emergence as a ‘Normal’ Military Power, p. 11.

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82 Lt. Gen. A.F. Klimenko, ‘Evolution of the Military Factor and its Impact on International Relations in East Asia’, Voennaia mysl’ (Military Thought), vol. 14(2), 2005, pp. 45–62, p. 158. 83 As Hughes points out in Japan’s Re-emergence, p. 93. 84 See Jamestown Monitor, vol. 6, no. 32, 15 February 2000. 85 ‘Russia releases names of Japanese POWs sent to North Korea’, Mainichi Daily News, Mainichi Shimbun, Japan, 1 April 2005, available at http://mdn.mainichi.co.jp/ news/20050401p2a00m0dm011001c.html accessed 1 April 2005. 86 Francis Fukuyama, ‘Re-envisioning Asia’, Foreign Affairs, January–February 2005, available at www.foreignaffairs.com, accessed 20 June 2006. 87 Michael R. Auslin, ‘Japan and South Korea: the New East Asian Core’, Orbis, vol. 49, no. 3, Summer 2005, pp. 459–73. 88 Auslin, ‘Japan and South Korea’. 89 Hughes, Japan’s Re-emergence, p. 16. 90 Dmitrii Trenin and Vasilii Mikheev, Rossiia i Iaponiia kak resurs vzaimnogo razvitiia: Vzgliad iz XXI veka na problem XX-ogo, Moscow: Moscow Carnegie Center, 2005. 9 Conclusions 1 Hannes Adomeit, ‘Russia as a “great power” in world affairs: image and reality’, International Affairs (London), vol. 71, no. 1 (1995), pp. 35–68, p. 68. 2 Aleksei Pushkov, ‘Vneshniaia politika Rossii: Vremia dobrovol’noi zavisimosti ot zapada konchilos’’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 16 November 1995. 3 Aleksei Arbatov, ‘Tri ugla zreniia na problemu vstupleniia Pol’shi v NATO’, Nezavisimaia gazeta, 1 October 1993. 4 See Sergei Karaganov, Where is Russia going? Foreign and Defence Policies in a New Era, PRIF Reports no. 34, Frankfurt-am-Main, 1994. 5 Karaganov, Where is Russia going?, p. 29; Aleksei Arbatov, ‘U Rossiiskoi armii est’ veroiatnyi protivnik’, Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, no. 4, December 1995. 6 As cited in Richard Sakwa, Putin: Russia’s Choice, London and New York: Routledge, 2004, p. 131. 7 See Chapter Two. 8 Zbigniew Brzezinski, cited in Chapter Four, p. 105. 9 ‘Ekspansiia dvuglavogo orela’, Rossiiskaia gazeta, 28 June 2006, available at www.globalaffairs.ru/articles/5764.html, accessed 29 June 2006. 10 S.V. Lavrov, ‘Tezisy stat’i Ministra inostrannykh del Rossii S.V. Lavrova “Pod’em Azii i vostochnyi vektor vneshnei politiki Rossii’, from Rossiia v global’noi politike, no. 2, March–April 2006, available at www.mid.ru/brp_4.nsf/2fee282eb6df 40e643256999005e6e8c/534394501a6b96., accessed 15 May 2006. 11 Andrew Hurrell, ‘Hegemony, liberalism and global order’, International Affairs, vol. 82, no. 1, January 2006, pp. 1–21, p. 4. 12 Francis Fukuyama, ‘Re-envisioning Asia’, Foreign Affairs, January–February 2005, available at www.foreignaffairs.org/20050101faessay/84107/francis-fukuyama/reenvisioning-asia.html, accessed 20 June 2006. 13 Japanese Foreign Minister Mr Aso, speaking at the Asia Cooperation Dialogue in May 2006, available at www.mofa.jp, Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs website. 14 Alexey Pushkov, ‘Putin at the helm’, in Dov Lynch (ed.) What Russia Sees, Chaillot Paper no. 74, Paris: EU Institute for Security Studies, January 2005, pp. 45–61, p. 54. 15 See Clifford G. Gaddy and Barry W. Ickes, ‘Resource Rents and the Russian Economy’, Eurasian Energy and Economics, vol. 46, no. 8, 2005, pp. 559–83. 16 Obzor vneshnei politiki Rossiskoi Federatsii (Survey of Foreign Policy of the Russian Federation), published by the MID in March 2007, available at

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www.mid.ru/brp_4.nsf/sps/690A2BAF968B1FA4C3257B100304A6E, accessed 2 April 2007. 17 Lavrov, ‘Pod’em Azii i vostochnyi vektor. . .’, accessed 15 May 2006. 18 Speech by Mr Taro Aso, Japanese Minister of Foreign Affairs, 30 November 2006, available at www.mofa.go.jp/announce/fm/aso/speech0611.html.

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Index

9/11, responses to 131–2 Abarinov, Vladimir 42 Abdurasakov, I. 133 Afghanistan 52, 53, 134 Akaev, Askar 48 Akhromeev, Sergei 64 ‘Americanization’ 14 Amur military district 38 Amur river 32, 33–4, 35 Amurskaia oblast 42 Anderson, Jennifer 3 Andijan–Osh–Kashgar highway 50 Anikina, Tat’iana 150 Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty (ABM) 20–1, 53 APEC 97, 104, 134, 136, 141, 163 Arbatov, Aleksei 65, 105, 121, 158 Argun river 35 arms sales, China/Russia 21–7, 55, 56, 119–22 ASEAN 26, 54, 57, 134, 136; +3 framework 153; Regional Forum 58–9 Asia-Pacific: China and Russia in 53–4, 135–7; Japanese/Russian approaches to 100–2, 152–3; Russia’s strategic position in 36; and Shanghai Agreement 39 ‘Asianisation’ 108 Auslin, Michael R. 154 Aven, Petr 12 Azerbaijan 49, 52 Baev, Pavel 3 Baker, James 47 Baltics, independence of 68 Baluevskii, Iurii 121 Barannikov, Viktor 75 Barybin, Mikhail 70

Bazhanov, Evgenii 14 Belonogov, Igor’ 126 Berezovskii, Boris 35 bilateral relations 9; impact of border demarcation 29–34 Bishkek Declaration (1999) 21 Bolshoi island 32, 127 Bolshoi Ussuriisk 31–3, 37–8, 127 Bondarenko, O.N. 73 border demarcation, Russian Far East 13, 116; centre and periphery 34–5; Chinese migrants in Russia 40–3; demilitarisation 38–40, 160; exploitation of issues 35–6; institutional rivalry 36–8; post-Soviet era 32–4; Soviet era 29–32 Border Guards service: Operation ‘Inostranets’ 42; Operation ‘Putina–94’ 88; Operation ‘Signal’ 42; ‘Operational Foreigner’ campaign 18; rivalry with Customs Service 36–8; setting-up of 84, 158 border issues, China/Russia 127–9 Brailovskii, V. 23 Brzezinski, Zbigniew 48, 49, 108 Burbulis, Gennadii 73–4, 79, 83 Bush, George W. 74, 136 Buzan, Barry 136 Cairo Declaration (1945) 62 Central Asia: and China/Russia 47–52, 130–5; and Japan/Russia 107–8, 152; see also Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) Chechnia 18, 20, 98 Cherepkov, Viktor 36 Chernomyrdin, Viktor 15, 17, 18, 48–9, 76, 79, 83, 90, 109 Chi Haotian 111, 130

Index 223 China: importance of 159; policy on Russia 11–12; Russian view of 10–11 China National Petroleum Corporation (CNPC) 51, 123–5 Chinese Communist Party 22–3 Chubais, Anatolii 36 Chugrov, Sergei 142 Chung, Chien-peng 132–3 Churchill, Winston 62 Churkin, Vitalii 69 Clinton, Bill 80, 137 Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) 19, 159; armed forces 78; Collective Security Treaty 133; demilitarisation 38–9; and energy issues 51–2; integration 47–9; Moslem factor 49–50; navy 72; southern axis 52–3 Communist Party of the Russian Federation (KPRF) 18 complementarity, Japan/Russia 64–6 confidence-building measures (CBMs) 39, 40, 58, 94, 106 constructive partnership with China 17–18, 19–21 ‘Consultative Committee of subjects of the Russian Federation on International and Foreign Economic Ties’ (1994) 34–5 containment policy, China 57–8 Cossacks, and Sino-Russian border 38 Council on Foreign and Defence Policy, Russia 17, 81–2 crisis management, Japan/Russia relations 142–5 Customs Service, Russia 36–8 Damanskii Island 30–1, 32, 33, 112, 127 Darkin, Sergei 126, 144, 146 Declaration on long-term trade and economic and scientific-technical relations (1993), Japan 85 Decree ‘On Urgent Measures of State Support for the Primorsk krai economy in 1993–2005’ 36 Defence Agency, Japan 83 defence industry, Russia 25–6 ‘Defence of Fatherland Day’, Russia 155 demilitarisation, Chinese/Russian border 13, 38–40, 91 Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) 54–6, 136, 154–5 Deng Xiaoping 11 deVillafranca, Richard 63–4 dilemmas 164–6 Dittmer, Lowell 31

domestic factors 3 Eagleburger, Lawrence 77 ‘East Asian Community Concept’ 153 East Turkistan Islamic Movement 131 economic aid, Japan 66, 67–8, 78–80, 81–2, 86, 88–9, 96 economic interdependence 115 economic power, Japan 101–2 economic relations: China/Russia 9–10, 117–19; Japan/Russia 64–6, 95, 151 economics of military cooperation 21–7 El’tsin administration, relations with China: attitudes towards China 10–11; ‘balanced’ foreign policy 15–17; China’s Moscow policy 11–12; concern over NATO expansion 18–21; economics of military cooperation 21–7; political and economic relations 9–10; state-to-state relations 12–14; summits 14–15, 17–18; Taiwan question 14 El’tsin administration, relations with Japan: assertion of Russian national interests 92–7; balanced foreign policy in the East 162–4; cancellation of visit to Japan 74–9; October 1993 summit 85–6; optimism to stalemate 68–74; outmanoeuvring of Gorbachev 67–8; picking up the pieces 79–84; signs of a breakthrough 90–2; stalemate 86–90 elite attitudes on China 10–11, 112–13 energy issues: China/Russia 51–2, 123–6; Japan/Russia 65–6, 81–2, 134–5, 146, 149–51, 165; US 48–9 environmental issues 86–7, 90, 125–6, 129 European Union 18, 115 Export–Import bank, Japan 80, 90 F-16 aircraft 24 Far East: border demarcation 29–36; borders 160; development of 65–6, 93, 126–7; and Japan/Russia 105–7, 149–51; pipeline 123–7 Far Eastern Association of the Soviets of People’s Deputies 68 Far Eastern military district 39 Farkhutdinov, Igor’ 144 Federal Migration Service, Russia 40, 41, 127–8 Fedorov, Yuri 77, 81 Filatov, Sergei 75 fish stocks 73 fishing disputes 42, 70–1, 87–8, 89–90, 91, 95, 97–8, 142–5

224

Index

Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR), Russia 23 foreign investment: China/Russia 17–18, 119; Japan/Russia 67–8, 69–70, 79–80, 81–2 ‘Foreign Policy Concept’, Russia 11, 15 foreign policy under El’tsin 15–17, 162–4 Fradkov, Mikhail 118, 147 free economic zones (FRZs) 10–11, 78, 89 Freedman, Lawrence 138 ‘Freedom Party of the Uighurs’ 50 Fu Quanyou 39 Fukuyama, Francis 154, 164–5 fundamentalism 130–2 G7: aid 24, 73, 77, 78, 82; meetings 79, 80, 88, 158; membership 102–4, 163 G8 94 Gaddy, Clifford G. 125 Gaidar, Egor 21, 75, 78, 79, 84, 86 Garver, John 14 Gazprom 125, 150 Gelbras, Vilya 118 Georgia 135 German reunification 68 ‘Gidrostroi’ company 141 Gill, Bates 21, 25, 121 Ginsburgs, George 31 Glaubitz, Joachim 68 global security issues, Russia, China and 116, 117 Glukhikh, Viktor 22 Gol’ts, Aleksandr 54 Gorbachev, Mikhail 11, 28–9, 32, 46, 60–1, 65–6, 67–8, 90, 92; El’tsin’s attempts to outmanoeuvre 67–8 Gore, Al 56 Gosoboronprom 22 Grachev, Pavel 10, 15–16, 18, 24, 39, 70, 89 Greenpeace Russia 129 Gromov, Boris 91, 106 Gromov, Feliks 38, 101 ‘Guidelines for US–Japan Defence Cooperation’ (1997) 53, 104, 154 Habomai 63–4, 72, 74, 93, 147, 148 Hakamada, Shigeki 107 Hara, Kimie 4 Hasegawa, Tsuyoshi 61 Hashimoto, Ryutaro 89, 94–5, 96, 97, 103, 108, 139, 146, 152, 163 Haslam, Jonathan 4 Hata, Tsutomu 87–8

Heixiazi see Bol’shoi Ussuriisk Hiromu, Nonaka 142 Hokkaido 81 Hu Jintao 115–16, 128, 134 Hughes, Christopher W. 154, 155 human rights 11–12, 130–1, 132, 159 Huntington, Samuel 49, 52 Hurrell, Andrew 164 Hyer, Eric 28–9 Iavlinskii, Grigorii 18, 41 Iazov, Dmitrii 29 Ickes, Barry W. 125 identity crisis 1–2 Ikeda, Tukihiko 93, 94, 95 illegal migrants/migration, and SinoRussian border 36–8, 40–3, 113, 127–8 India 15, 52, 134; arms sales to 120–1 industrial cooperation, China 15–16 Inoguchi, Kuniko 103 Institute of Far Eastern Studies 49 Institute of World Economy and International Relations (IMEMO) 65, 92 institutional rivalry, Far East 36–8 international arena 165–6; Japan/Russia in 152–3, 163 International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) 55 International Monetary Fund (IMF) 69, 73 international problems, Chinese/Russian view on 46–7 interventionism, Russia 111–12 investment, Asia-Pacific Region 149–51 Iran 48, 49, 51, 52 Iraq 49, 115–16 Ishaev, Viktor 36, 96, 127, 145, 149 Islam 49–50, 52 Iturup 64, 93, 141–2 Ivanov, Igor 121, 154 Ivanov, Sergei 110, 121 Japan, views on Russia 61, 139–40 Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Gaimusho) 88, 90, 93, 97, 145–6 Japanese–Russian summit: (1991) 64; (1993) 85–6; (1997) 96–8; (2000) 96–8 Jiang Zemin 53, 112, 115, 117–18 joint ventures (JVs) 17–18 Kaifu, Toshiki 101 kakudai kinko 86, 97 Kapitsa, Mikhail 31–2 Karaganov, Sergei A. 158 Karakhan Declaration 29

Index 225 Karaoglanov, Sergei 24 Karasin, Grigorii 96, 99 Karimov, Islam 132, 133, 135 Kashmir 52 Kasianov, Mikhail 125, 127, 146 Kawaguchi, Yoriko 146 Kazakevich channel, and Sino-Russian border 31 Kazakhstan 38–9, 48, 49, 50, 51, 133 Khabarovski krai 32, 34, 36, 37–8, 96, 145 Khasbulatov, Ruslan 67, 79, 80 Khizha, Georgi 80 Khvatov, Gennadii 24–5, 77 Kilo-class submarines 120 Kim Jong-Il 136, 154 Kim, Taeho 21, 25 Kimura, Hiroshi 71–2, 82 Koizumi, Junichiro 142–5, 146, 148, 153 Kokoshin, Andrei 22, 23, 27, 52, 77–8 Kommissina, Irina 41 Kono, Yoko 80, 91–2, 141, 142 Korea see Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) Korean Peninsula 54–6, 154–5 Kortunov, Sergey 22 Kosovar Liberation Army 112 Kosovo 21, 53, 98, 111–12 Kotelkin, Aleksandr 26 Kozyrev, Andrei 11, 12, 15, 23, 24, 32, 35, 39, 47, 49, 54–5, 64, 68–9, 71, 73, 74, 75, 76–7, 79, 80, 81–2, 84, 87, 90–1, 103, 137, 157, 158, 162 Krasnoiarov, Evgenii 81, 83 Krasnoiarsk krai 96 Kuchins, Andrew 4 Kudinov, Nikolai 89 Kunadze, Georgii 15, 46, 64–5, 67, 69–70, 71, 72, 73, 75, 79, 87, 92 Kunashir 64, 81, 93, 141–2, 144 Kuril islands: consequences of ‘Suzuki affair’ 145–6; crisis management 142–5; economics of dispute 64–6; effects of dispute 60–1; history of dispute 62–4; negotiations on 67–97, 147–9; overview 139–41, 165; Suzuki initiative 141–2 ‘Kurils Defence Committee’ 68 Kyrgyzstan 38–9, 48, 50, 51, 133 Lampton, David 12 Latyshev, Igor 4 Lavrov, Sergei 147, 148, 164, 165 Lebed, Aleksandr 36 Lenin, Vladimir 71 Li Fenglin 41

Li Peng 12, 18, 40, 50, 58 Liberal Democratic Party of Japan (LDP) 95, 142 light-water nuclear reactors, DPRK, Russia and 54–5 Liu Huaqing 15 Lo, Bobo 7 Lobov, Oleg 14, 82 local interests and border demarcation 34–5 London Convention (1972) 87 Losiukov, Evgenii 119, 146, 148–9 Lukin, Aleksandr 4, 8, 37–8, 130 Lukin, Vladimir 10, 11, 17, 18, 48, 56, 64, 96 Lukoil 92, 125 Lynch, Allen 46, 115 MacFarlane, S. Neil 7 Machimura, Nobutaka 147 Makienko, Konstantin 27 Malcolm, Neil 87 Malei, Mikhail 22 Mao Zedong 29, 31, 112 Mehnert, Klaus 43 Mekhov, Georgii 102 Miasnikov, Vladimir 5, 42, 43, 49 MIG-23/MIG-29 fighter planes 23, 83 migrants/migration 36–8, 40–3, 113, 127–8 Mikhailov, Viktor 20, 21, 87 Mikheev, Vasilii 113, 156 militarism, Japan 101 military cooperation, Russo-Chinese 13, 15–16, 21–7 military exercises, Russia, China and 121–2, 133 military industrialist groupings 159–60 Military-Industrial Complex 120 military-technical protocol, China/Russia 39 mineral resources, Kuril islands 72–3 Ministry for International Trade and Industry (MITI), Japan 97 Ministry of Defence, China 15 Ministry of Defence, Russia 37, 70–1, 78, 83 Ministry of Fisheries, Russia 73 Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Federation (MID): and China 10, 18, 22, 23–4, 32, 38, 40, 58; and Japan 64, 67, 69–70, 77, 79, 80, 84, 85, 87, 89, 92, 95; and Korea 54, 57; and Taiwan 14 Ministry of the Environment, Russia 87

226

Index

Mitsui 92 Miyazawa, Kiichi 75, 82 Moltz, Charles 41 Mongolia 38 Mori, Yoshiro 139, 140–1, 144–5, 152 Moslem factor 49–50, 52 multilateral mechanisms and China/Russia 58–9 multipolarity 46–7 Nakayama, Taro 67, 70 Nakhodka oil pipeline 125–6, 150–1 Naksone, Yashiro 142, 155 national interests, Russian assertion of 92–7, 158–9 NATO: alliance against 52–3; expansion of 18–21, 46–7, 48, 51, 56, 157, 158–9, 162 naval capacity: China 25, 57; Japan 121 Nazdratenko, Evgenii 33, 36, 41, 88, 143–4 neutrality pact, Japan–Soviet Union 62 Nikolaev, Andrei 28, 37, 43, 88 Northern Territories see Kuril Islands ‘Northern Territories Day’, Japan 148 nuclear issues 54–5 Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) 55, 134 Nye, Joseph S. 56 Oboroneksport 24 Obuchi, Keizo 95–6, 98, 140 Official Development Assistance (ODA), Japan 66, 67–8, 78–80, 81–2, 86, 88–9, 96 oil: China’s need for 51, 123–6; Japan’s dependence on 150 Okinawa island 64 Pacific Border military district 41, 70 Pacific Fleet 72, 77–8, 83, 87, 90, 101, 163 Pain, Emil 41–2 Pakistan 23, 48, 52, 134 Pankin, Boris 70 Panov, Aleksandr 16–17, 87 Partnership for Peace (PFP) 133 ‘Party of Primore’ 36 ‘Peace Mission 2005’ 121–2 People’s Liberation Army (PLA) 15–16, 21, 22, 25, 40 ‘People’s Revolutionary Front of the United Nationalities of East Turkestan’ 50 Petrov, Iurii 74

Poltoranin, Mikhail 74 Portiakov, Vladimir 41, 42 Potsdam Declaration 62–3 Pravda, Alex 131 Presidential Security Council, Russia 73–6 Primakov, Evgenii 10, 19, 48, 52, 61, 98, 109, 134, 142, 158–9, 162; assertion of Russian national interests 92–7 Primorski krai 16, 29, 33, 35, 36, 40–1, 83, 88, 144 prisoners of war (POWs), Japanese 85 privatisation fund, Russia 82 Programme for Economic and Social Development of the Far East 96 Pulikovskii, Konstantin 128, 144, 149 Pushkov, Aleksei 102, 157, 165 Putin administration, relations with China: arms sales 119–22; Asia-Pacific issues 135–7; attitudes towards China 112–14; border issues 127–9; Central Asia issues 130; dilemmas 164–6; economic issues 117–19; energy issues 123–6; overview 6–8; Russian Far East 126–7; separatism, fundamentalism and terrorism 130–2; and Shanghai Cooperation Organisation (SCO) 132–5; sovereignty and intervention 111–12; summitry 115–17 Putin administration, relations with Japan: applying ‘simultaneous equations’ 146; Asia-Pacific and global arena 152–3; Central Asia 152; crisis management 142–5; dilemmas 164–6; Korean Peninsula 154–5; Russian Far East 149–51; second term 147–9; Suzuki affair and its consequences 145–6; Suzuki initiative 141–2 Qian Qichen 13, 49 Qin Jiwei 13 radioactive waste, dumping of 86–7, 90–1 regionalism 105 Rodionov, Igor’ 39–40, 48, 94, 106 Rogachev, Igor’ 10 Roosevelt, Franklin D. 62 Rosneft 125 Rumiantsev, Oleg 72, 104 Russia: attitudes on China 113–14; attitudes on Japan 61 Russian Far East see Far East Russo–Chinese demarcation committee 13 Russo–Japanese economic symposium (1993) 81

Index 227 Russo–Japanese interparliamentary consultations on trade and economic questions (1993) 79–80 Rutskoi, A.V. 83, 84 Rybkin, Ivan 16, 56 Ryukyu islands 64 Ryzhkov, Nikolai 29 Sakhalin 62–3, 64, 68, 72–3, 77, 78, 79–80, 81, 83, 88–9, 95; oil and gas projects 65, 90, 149–51 Samsonov, Valerii 21 San Francisco Peace Treaty (1951) 63 Saplin, Vasilii 72, 95, 100 SARS epidemic 113 Sato, Masaru 145 Saudi Arabia 49 Science and Technology Agency, Japan 87 Sea of Japan 33, 38, 86–7, 90 Sea of Okhotsk 70, 72, 73, 88, 143–4 sekei fukabun 60, 65, 79, 86, 97 Seleznev, Gennadii 145 Senkaku islands 92 separatism 130–2 Sergeev, Igor’ 53 Sergounin, Aleksandr 24 Shanghai Cooperation Organisation (SCO) 130–5, 164 Shanghai Five Agreements (1996) 21, 39, 53 Shaposhnikov, Evgenii 78 Shell 149–51 Shevardnadze, Eduard 28–9 Shikotan 63–4, 74, 77, 93, 143, 147, 148 Shirk, Susan 137 Shokhin, Alexsandr 12, 15, 16, 22, 25, 79 Siberian development projects 65–6 ‘Silk Road’, restoration of 50 Sino-Russian summits 19–20, 115–17; (1992) 12–15, 54; (1994) 17–18 Sino-US military cooperation 26–7 Skokov, Iurii 75, 80 Slavneft 123–5 ‘social opinion fund’ 113–14 Soskovets, Oleg 36, 80, 83, 89, 90, 92, 97 southern axis 52–3 sovereignty, China 111–12 Sovremenny class destroyers 25 Spetsvneshtekhnika 23 Stalin, Joseph 61 START II agreement (1993) 102 state-to-state relations, China/Russia 12–14 Stefashin, Viktor 102

strategic cooperation, China/Russia 19–21 strategic partnership, China/Russia 114–15, 104–5 Stroev, Egor 96 Su-27/Su-30 fighter jets 22, 24, 27, 83, 120–1 Subbotin, Sergey 24 Supreme Soviet Committee for International Affairs and Economic Relations 74 Supreme Soviet Committee on Constitutional Affairs 72 Supreme Soviet Committee on Foreign Affairs (RSFSR) 64 Suzuki, Muneo 141–2, 145–6 Taipei 21 Taiwan 14, 21, 24, 53, 122 Tajikistan 38–9, 50, 52, 133 Taleban 52 Tamba, Minoru 96, 98, 142 Tanaka, Michiko 142, 143, 145, 146 Tarabarov island 32, 33–4, 37–8, 127 Tarim Basin, Xinjiang 51 territorial dispute, Japan/Russia 62–4 territorial integrity, Japan/Russia 162 terrorism 130–2 Thakur, Ramesh 3 thalweg principle 31, 32–3 Thayer, Carlyle 3 Theatre Missile Defence system 53 Three Georges Dam 20, 160 Tiananmen Square 11 Titarenko, Mikhail 4, 11 Tokyo Declaration on Russo-Japanese relations (1993) 85 Tow, William F. 2 trade: China/Russia 13–14, 16–17, 19–20, 35–6, 117–19; Japan/Russia 79–80, 81, 85, 147 Transbaikal, development of 93 Transbaikal military district 38, 40 Transneft 125, 126 Treaties of Goodneighbourliness, Friendship and Cooperation 115, 116 Treaty of Aigun (1958) 29 Treaty of Beijing (1860) 29, 37 Treaty of Portsmouth 148 Treaty of St Petersburg (1875) 62 Treaty of Shomoda (1855) 148 Trenin, Dmitrii 122, 156 troop reductions, Kuril islands 70–1 Trutnev, Iurii 126 Tsarist treaties 29–32

228

Index

Tumen river 32, 33, 38 Turkey 48 Turkmenistan 134–5, 152 Uighur terrorist threat 49–50, 131–2 Ukraine 71–2, 135 Umbach, Frank 150 UN (United Nations): Charter 12, 21; General Assembly 134; Resolutions 18; sanctions 55; Security Council 91, 94–5, 97, 102–4, 112, 114–15, 153, 161 US: arms sales 26–7; and ASEAN 58–9; and Central Asia 47, 48–9; involvement in Kurils dispute 74; and Korea 54–6; presence in Central Asia 131–4, 135, 137 US–Japan alliance 19, 53, 56–8, 101–2, 106–7, 154, 161 US–Japan Treaty of Mutual Cooperation and Security 57 Ussuri military district 38 Ussuri river 32–3, 34 Usui, Hideo 106 Uzbekistan 51, 52, 53, 132, 133, 135, 152 Verbitskii, Semyon 61 Vol’skii, Arkadii 11 Voskresenskii, Andrei 4, 18, 46–7, 71 Wacker, Gudrun 51 Wahabbist violence, Uzbekistan 53

Wan Li 12 Watanabe, Akio 70, 74, 77 Watanabe, Michio 68–9, 70–1 Wilson, Jeanne 4 World Bank 66 ‘World Ocean’ programme (1997) 102 World Trade Organisation (WTO) 90, 97 World Wildlife Fund (WWF) 129 xenophobia 113, 127 Xia Liping 57 Xinjiang Autonomous Republic 49, 50, 51, 53 Yahuda, Michael 58 Yalta Agreement 62–3 Yazov, Dmitri 64 Yoshida Doctrine 65 Yukos 125, 151 Zagorski, Andrei 107 Zagorskii, Aleksei 39 Zema, Vladimir 96 Zhao Nanqi 21 Zhenbao see Damanskii island Zhirinovskii, Vladimir 52, 134, 157, 158 Zhou Enlai 31 Zhu Rongji 133 Ziegler, Charles E. 41 Ziuganov, Gennadii 18 Zubov, Valerii 96