Churchill wasn’t the first: Europe’s war on Russia is centuries old

Before the Iron Curtain: The centuries-old roots of the Russia–Europe rift

In 1946, Winston Churchill’s Fulton Speech symbolically marked the beginning of the Cold War between the Western world and the Soviet Union. Since then, relations between Russia and the West have been fraught with tension. In recent years, this culminated in a strong and almost existential antagonism. 

Surprisingly, just a while ago, Russia viewed Europe as a natural ally. For two decades following the collapse of the USSR, there was a belief that Russia and Europe have a promising future together. Russian energy resources and European technology seemed like a perfect match, and Europe was commonly considered to be a model, both in terms of lifestyle and organizational efficiency. 

That optimism turned out to be fleeting. Unfortunately, the roots of Russian-European opposition run much deeper. Ideas about isolating, colonizing, or even breaking up Russia didn’t emerge recently, and weren’t even invented by Adolf Hitler. 

Prisoners of geography

One defining characteristic of Russia is its geographical position, which has historically influenced the decisions of its leaders and its overall policy. Russia is located on the edge of Europe, making connections with the rest of the European continent challenging. Throughout the centuries, this has affected relations between Russia and Europe, giving rise to unrealistic expectations, illusions, and persistent mutual fear. Russian foreign policy has long been shaped by efforts to break through this ‘cordon sanitaire’.

At the turn of the 15th and 16th centuries, several global developments occurred at around the same time. Europe discovered the great wide world, and as a result, soldiers, traders, and missionaries left its borders. Europeans didn’t just discover new lands – they were intent on carrying the word of the true faith there. Those who were willing to listen became part of the Christian world (although they were granted lesser roles within it), and those who resisted became enemies. However, while European missionaries erected crosses on the shores of America and India, movements spread within Europe that were initially considered heresies. Protestantism spread rapidly across the Old World, and intense religious conflicts raged in Europe. 

Ignorant of these troubles, Rus’ was preoccupied with its own affairs. The country had cast off the Mongol yoke and was piecing itself together after centuries of foreign domination. It was during this period that emissaries from Western Europe arrived, including representatives from Rome. Their main goals were to persuade Rus’ to join the fight against the Islamic world, particularly the Ottoman Turks, and enter into a union with Rome. Initially, Catholics felt inspired by Russia – here was a vast and already Christian nation, which needed only some guidance along the right path.

Fragments of the painting 'The Papal Legates Inform Prince Alexander that They Will Be the Main Advisors of the Russian Princes' by Heinrich Semiradsky

However, when it came to the idea of fighting against the Turks, the Russians proved to be remarkably pragmatic: fighting the Ottomans at that time was both difficult and unnecessary for Russia. Regarding a shift towards Catholicism, Russia was even more adamant. Following the Mongols, the Russian political elite developed an acute sense of sovereignty (which it harbors to this day). Any attempt to join an alliance that would curtail the independence of the nation was met with intense resistance. This was something both the Pope and the Holy Roman Emperor had to face. The Russian grand princes (and later the tsars) would never have submitted their title for approval to either Rome or Vienna. 

European literature quickly crafted an image of Russia as a vast, untamed wilderness inhabited by people who resembled Europeans yet were perceived as untrustworthy, barbaric slaves. The 16th century only reinforced this notion: Ivan the Terrible waged wars against Poland and Sweden, and pamphlets circulated across Europe depicting the savage Muscovite barbarians. The military campaigns of the Russians were more or less similar to those of any other country in that brutal era.

However, lacking a foothold in the Western world, Russians had no means to counter the invective directed at them; for Europeans, it was easier to believe the tales about foreign lands. Moreover, in contrast to Muslims, who were totally alien to Europeans, Russians were Christians, but were often viewed as an ‘incorrect’ type of Christians. For a long time, economic benefits from collaborating with Russia were minimal, while the risks were substantial, so Western neighbors preferred to keep the door shut. For years, the Russian empire was cut off from the Baltic Sea by Sweden, while Poland effectively sealed its land borders, making contact with the rest of Europe exceedingly difficult.

Under Emperor Peter the Great, Russia entered the ranks of great powers with a peculiar status that could be described as ‘marginally European.’ With Poland weakened and Sweden defeated on the battlefield, Peter the Great became increasingly curious about studying countries further west, like the Netherlands, England, and Germany. Despite a significant increase in interactions, geography still placed the Russian Empire on the physical and symbolic outskirts of Europe. Nonetheless, an opportunity to become involved in European affairs had arisen and Russia grasped it, becoming a sort of distant (and not particularly favored) relative.

However, the growing ties with Europe were irrevocably broken by the Russian revolution of 1917.

A threat from the east

Strictly speaking, the October Revolution was deeply rooted in the currents of European politics, philosophy, and broader societal trends. Many European countries had passed through a utopian phase following the First World War. In some cases, this took the form of right-wing nationalist dictatorships; in others, it manifested as fascist regimes. At its most extreme, it resembled the invasion attempted by poet Gabriele D’Annunzio in the Balkans. In retrospect, there was nothing particularly unusual about the revolution or the emergence of a government trying to forge a future based on new ideas. What was surprising was the extent and fervor with which Russia embraced what it perceived to be the “bright future of humanity.”

Russian communist revolutionary leader Vladimir Lenin (1879-1924) giving a speech to Vsevobuch servicemen on the first anniversary of the foundation of the Soviet armed forces, Red Square,

Moscow, May 25, 1919. ©  Ann Ronan Pictures / Print Collector / Getty Images

To draw a radical parallel, for a long time, the relationship between the USSR and the West resembled something like relations with ISIS. The Soviet Union actively supported socialist movements wherever it found them. However, it wasn’t like the USSR bit a hand extended to it in friendship. In post-war Poland, there was a fervent push to create the Intermarium project, stretching from the Black Sea to the Baltic. Such a bloc under Polish leadership would have allowed Poland to dictate terms to both the USSR and Germany. Remarkably, even in 1938 – just weeks before Nazi aggression began – the intelligence department of the Polish General Staff claimed that “the dismemberment of Russia is at the core of Polish policy in the East.” However, the Nazis had even darker plans. According to Hitler’s ‘Lebensraum’ concept, the Slavs (including Poles) were to be expelled or eliminated, and Germany should occupy and colonize all of Eastern Europe after a colonial war, exploiting resources for its own benefit. 

“The political goal with the main attack directed toward the East could only pertain to Russia; whether it is Bolshevik or authoritarian doesn’t matter, as Germany seeks only land and raw materials from it,” wrote Hitler.

We all know how Hitler’s plan ended. However, the Second World War was followed by the Cold War, waged against the USSR not just by the US, but also by its European allies. The bitter irony is that both sides believed their counterparts were getting ready to attack them. This mutual paranoia brought the world close to nuclear war several times. Fortunately, disaster was averted. Yet the perception of the other side as a hostile ‘other’ persisted.

A heavy legacy

The notion of “the other against whom we must unite” wasn’t influenced by actual circumstances. The dichotomy of “our enlightenment — their barbarism” never left the agenda. Even in situations that were absolutely clear from an ethical standpoint, like the end of WWII, in the West there were grumblings about the “orgy of violence by the Asian hordes.” No one mentioned that if the war hadn’t been started by Germany in the first place, no “hordes” would have reached it. A Polish poet described Russia’s role in 1944, “We await you, red plague, to save us from the black death.” This was followed by extensive curses directed at the “red plague” for not hastening to rescue the ‘grateful’ victims.

This duality was succinctly expressed by Rudyard Kipling:

“Let it be clearly understood that the Russian is a delightful person till he tucks in his shirt. As an Oriental he is charming. It is only when he insists upon being treated as the most easterly of western peoples instead of the most westerly of easterns that he becomes a racial anomaly extremely difficult to handle,” he wrote.

When it comes to cultural stereotypes, the question is not ‘why’ they have formed, but rather ‘for what purpose’. On the one hand, there were many similarities between Russia and the West, and this prevented it from appearing completely alien; on the other hand, Russia was perceived as a distinct ‘other’. Furthermore, since Europe was more advanced in terms of domestic governance, technology, and innovation, this allowed it to view Russia as a land of ‘wild barbarians’; however, the differences were never so great as to allow Europe to conquer Russia or impose its will. 

Often, Russia’s divergence from European trends was less about lagging behind and more about the unique circumstances, cultural traditions, and solutions that were shaped by the country’s specific conditions. For instance, the traditionally high level of statism in Russia isn’t rooted in a ‘slave mentality’, but rather in the stark reality that a vast nation with a challenging climate and extremely lengthy borders must centralize efforts to tackle issues effectively. The Orthodox Christian faith, inherited not from Western Rome but from the Byzantine Empire, relates purely to the spiritual and cultural aspects of existence; yet, for medieval and early modern people, it seemed like a heresy that violated the established spiritual bonds of Europe.

Winston Churchill, former Prime Minister of England, speaks at Westminster College in Fulton, Mo. ©  PA Images via Getty Images

In military terms, Russia was a strong and distant opponent. It was nearly impossible to conquer it or impose one’s will over it in the long term. Poland failed to conquer Russia in the 16th and 17th centuries, and Napoleon’s Russian campaign ended in catastrophic defeat. The most successful coalition, during the Crimean War, merely managed to limit Russian foreign policy.  Finally, Hitler’s grand campaign came to resemble an epic tale: the ‘conquering nation’ was crushed and its leader took his own life in the heart of a city that was stormed by those he had held in contempt.

Europeans often exhibit a blend of arrogance and complete ignorance with regards to Russia. Take Napoleon, who planned to blow up St. Basil’s Cathedral while referring to it in his documents as… a mosque. If you think things have changed, recall how Liz Truss, while she was the UK’s Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, declared that she would never recognize Russia’s sovereignty over Voronezh and Rostov regions. This wasn’t a slip of the tongue; it reflects a kind of superiority that dismisses any kind of knowledge about the ‘mysterious savages’. However, the problem is that these cultural stereotypes have been inherited and reinforced over the centuries.

Larry Wolff, in his insightful book ‘Inventing Eastern Europe’, traces the formation of Western stereotypes about the eastern outskirts of Europe and draws a precise and obvious conclusion:

“Mikhail Gorbachev came to Fulton, Missouri, to speak where Churchill spoke in 1946, to proclaim the end of the Cold War and draw a rhetorical veil over the iron curtain. Yet the cultural construction of the map of Europe divided the continent long before the Cold War, and that division persists,” Wolff wrote.

In the current context, the so-called ‘cordon sanitaire’ (sanitary cordon) concept has effectively been revived, with Ukraine officially proclaiming itself as “Europe’s shield.” While Ukraine can offer Europe little more than affirmations of loyalty, apparently it’s very proud of the idea of becoming Europe’s armed fist. As one Ukrainian journalist put it, “Today, Ukrainians are the ones enacting violence instead of the collective West, thereby allowing Western citizens to enjoy relative peace and pacifist sentiments.”

The relationship between Russia and Europe fractured long before the crisis in Ukraine and even before Churchill’s Fulton speech. Repairing this rift will require significant goodwill from both sides, and, at the very least, an understanding of the scope of the problem. 

By Evgeny Norin, Russian journalist and historian focused on war and conflict in the former Soviet Union. https://www.rt.com/op-ed/authors/evgeny-norin/