Russia’s war in Ukraine is more than just a battle of ‘good vs evil’

• Democracy is part of the story, but the truth is that Russia’s decision to invade Ukraine is complex and involves numerous factors
• Ignoring Russia’s ‘civilisational turn’ and mobilised historical memory leads to a flawed understanding and ineffective policies

Nicholas Ross Smith

New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern received some scorn recently when she said in a speech to the Lowy Institute that the war in Ukraine should not be characterised as a war of “democracy vs autocracy”. Much of it has centred on the belief that Ardern betrayed the courageous Ukrainians fighting the autocratic Russians for their chance at a democratic future.

Democracy is undeniably part of the story of the war in Ukraine. Remember, it was not the threat of Nato expansion that sparked Russian action against Ukraine in 2014 but, rather, the prospect of Ukraine aligning politically with the European Union.

Importantly, though, the Kremlin’s fear was not democracy in Ukraine per se. Historically, Ukraine has never been close to reaching the kind of reform which would justify calling it a “liberal democracy”. Under Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, it was not threatening to change this any time soon.

Furthermore, the EU’s once-lauded ability to facilitate democratic transitions has been stymied by domestic issues. What Russia feared most was the perceived threat of having a disloyal regime in Ukraine, the most important country in its self-anointed “zone of privileged interests”.

After witnessing the Arab spring and the toppling of numerous authoritarian regimes across the Middle East and North Africa – especially the brutal demise of Muammar Gaddafi in Libya – the Kremlin chose to see the prospect of having a Western-aligned democratic Ukraine on Russia’s border as something of a Trojan horse.

Furthermore, the broader claim that Russia and China represent a serious global challenge to democracy seems to be tenuous. Russia and China are increasingly authoritarian states that have taken action to undermine liberal democracies.

But the problems in liberal democracies at the moment have more to do with internal issues – such as political polarisation, the rise of extremism and demagoguery and increasing economic hardship – rather than any external interference.

Ardern’s refusal to reduce the Ukraine war to a simple dichotomy should be applauded. She is one of only a few leaders resisting the urge to view the Ukraine war or China’s rise in the Indo-Pacific as simple tales of good vs evil. Such Manicheanism is a hallmark of neoconservatism.

The truth is that Russia’s decision to invade Ukraine is complex and involves numerous factors beyond the lens of democracy vs autocracy. For instance, the “civilisational turn” that has occurred in Russia is extremely important.

When Russian President Vladimir Putin returned to office in 2012, he began explicitly evoking the concept of Russia as a unique, non-European civilisation to justify his strongman rule at home and reassert Russia as a significant global power.

Civilisational states are fundamentally exclusive and insular. While that might result in more domestic cohesion and regime stability, internationally it can be extremely divisive. As foreign policy expert Jeffrey Mankoff argued, Putin’s desire was for Russia to embark on a grand national cause of making Russian civilisation “a cultural and geopolitical alternative to the West”.

Ukraine became an important component of the idea of Russian civilisation, particularly as Russia identifies the medieval state of Kievan Rus as its historical starting point. The politics of historical memory have been front and centre of Russia’s belligerence against Ukraine.

What started as Russian action framed on the pretence that it wanted to “help the Ukrainian brothers to agree on how they should build and develop their country” has morphed into questioning the very existence of Ukraine as a nation.

History, especially when combined with the assertion of a unique civilisation, can be a trap. It might give leaders and politicians significant power at home, but it can also unleash forces they cannot control. As political scientist Maria Mälksoo argues, states that mobilise historical memory run the risk of actually doing “self-inflicted harm to the object of defence in the very effort to defend it”.

The war in Ukraine is further complicated by the legacy of colonialism and postcolonialism. Russia’s denial of Ukraine’s sovereignty and its invasion is, at its heart, an act of recolonisation. Some have likened this to reconstituting the Russian Empire.

All of this is occurring against the backdrop of great power politics. Although hard power largely went out of fashion as a key aspect of understanding international relations in the initial post-Cold-War era, it would be foolish not to realise that power relations are crucial to the calculations of states. Changing regional geopolitical contexts should not be dismissed as unimportant.

Rightly or wrongly, Russia and China interpret Western action as an effort to undermine their power. The United States casts a long shadow and can be ignorant about how this affects non-allies, especially great powers that are notoriously fearful and paranoid.

Ardern made a compelling point when she said diplomacy cannot succeed “if those parties we seek to engage with are increasingly isolated and the region we inhabit becomes increasingly divided and polarised”.

Make no mistake – in the context of the Ukraine war, Russia is undeniably in the wrong. The Ukrainians deserve to win and come out of the conflict with a liberal democratic future and a clear pathway to EU membership.

However, pushing simplistic narratives about the conflict and broader international issues will inadvertently result in simplistic policies that do not grasp the complexity of these issues. On this point, Ardern is right to try to offer a more nuanced view.

Nicholas Ross Smith is an adjunct fellow at the University of Canterbury, New Zealand