To comprehend the present proceeding from lessons of the past and plans for the future is the essence of the craft of a historian who deals with the present. An international analyst integrated into the international (European) scientific community inevitably plays a dual role: for the domestic audience, he/she is a researcher and interpreter of foreign realities, while for a foreign audience, he/she is a repeater and interpreter of Russian politics, seeking to overcome the “difficulties of translation” by matching his/her judgments and arguments with a different, but not alien, narrative. Deep knowledge of another country is inseparable from an empathetic perception of it, which involves the search for mutual understanding as the optimal condition for cooperation between the two societies, which provides a favorable environment for his/her professional activities. Few specialists in country studies would refuse the opportunity to speak out provided by publications in foreign editions, especially since such a first-hand explanation is in great demand. A newsworthy occurrence, a topic, or the wording of the questions raised indicate the sore points that provoke interest among foreign observers and interested readers. Foreign publications of domestic experts in country studies are special material for a comparative study of historical and political narratives, while bringing them together allows one not only to get a picture of both domestic and foreign political demands but also to determine the “nerve” of the interaction of the two societies in the decisive period of the formation of a new Russia and the development of the current paradigm of its relations with the West.

This study is focused on the collection of French publications by Yu.I. Rubinskii, the leading domestic specialist in French studies and a unique personality—a historian, diplomat, and foreign policy analyst [Obichkina, 2020, pp. 191‒201]. Although the translation of the title (The Signs of the Times) may seem similar to the Russian three-volume book by the same author, published in Moscow in 2018 [Roubinski, 2020; Rubinskii, 2018] and also dedicated to the 90th anniversary of the author, the two editions contain completely different works, united by the period of their creation, 1997‒2020, but dictated by different requests that meet two national agendas: Russian and French, and, in a broader sense, European. At the same time, they have a common central issue, which constitutes the essence of the “Russian question” in the eyes of Europeans and is the sore point of Russian self-identification—the problem of Russia’s belonging to Europe not in the geographical but in the organic meaning of this concept. The texts addressed to the French reader saw the light of day at a time when a high degree of tension between Russia and the European Union made irrelevant the paradigm of the overall development of Europe in the logic of convergence, proposed by the OSCE Charter of Paris for a New, post-Yalta, Europe. Meanwhile, most of the publications included in the book were written in the 1990‒2000s, when the movement seemed to be reciprocal, and the point of no return (2014) was still ahead. The general thrust is determined by the conviction of the Russian European in the ultimate commonality of the destinies of Russia and Europe. The author deliberately refused to edit the text in accordance with the current state of relations between Russia and Europe, and the reader is faced with the problem of already knowing the future resolution.

In France, for historical and geopolitical reasons, the perception of postcommunist Russia was associated with the hope for common development in a common “European Home.” The project of overcoming the split of Europe on the path of convergence, as applied to Russia, rested on the issue of compatibility. Before having finally established itself in the image of the “other,” alien, if not hostile to Western Europe, Russia was considered as a possible field for this grandiose experiment; however, as early as the 1990s, its success was highly questionable. In the Yeltsin years, it was necessary to explain the reasons for the slowdown of liberal reforms, while in the 2000s it was about their very possibility in Russian politics.

THE ABANDONMENT OF THE LIBERAL PARADIGM IN FAVOR OF SOVEREIGN CONSERVATISM

Reflections on Russian identity inevitably begin with history that constantly grows into the present, which is especially noticeable in a transition period. The first part of Rubinskii’s book is called “Russia, or the Past that Has Not Passed,” and Francophones will appreciate the accuracy and elegance of the communicated assessment (le passé présent). One of the painful issues of Russian politics, from which Soviet historians deliberately turned away and which cannot but interest observers of modern transformations, is the relative weakness of not only the liberal but also the social democratic trend of thought, close to the former in terms of its humanitarian thrust and reformism; the fragility of liberal reformism; and the standing return to conservatism: monarchical, communist, or otherwise, but invariably uniting the state, elites, and society.

The book begins with reflections on the sad fate of Russian Freemasonry, which since the 18th century has been uniting representatives of European elites into an international cross-border community of liberals in search of building a universal and rational world order. The symbiosis of power and ideology, be it Orthodoxy or Leninism, according to the author, made the state both under the tsar and under the Bolsheviks intolerant of any spiritual search for a liberal alternative, especially if it came from a foreign source and claimed to be universal. Liberalism in Russia, in its constant clash with the state idea, both revolutionary and reactionary (conservative), was defeated, since the latter more closely coincided with Russian political traditions [Roubinski, 2020, p. 17].

A mirror reflection of the fate of the liberals is the fate of their antipodes—the communists, who were destined for an active “life after death” in the new Russia. The title of the corresponding chapter reflects one of the paradoxes on which the modern political system of Russia was built. The costs of “shock therapy” could have provided them with a wide protest electorate, but the leaders of the parties abandoned active opposition struggle, preferring to participate in power. Thus, the refusal of the new ruling class of Russia from convergence in the sense of incorporation into the ensemble of Western democracies was of a systemic nature. The Russian “greatpowerness” could have found understanding in France, which, despite the decline in potential, also followed a “politics of prestige,” but Eurocentrism made it difficult to sympathize with such self-assertion. The ideological confrontation with the West is a thing of the past, but the nature of the new differences raised questions among those who thought about a formula for relations between the two extremities of Europe.

The search for a Russian answer to these questions was considered in a work published (judging by the context) in the mid-2000s, when it was possible to sum up the 15-year history of the new state and the first presidential term of V.V. Putin. The continuity of purpose from Yeltsin to his successor was to secure great power status and freedom of maneuvering in the international arena. “‘Russian exceptionalism’ is gone forever” [Roubinski, 2020, p. 75], the author argued meaning that the break with the Soviet past was marked by the rejection of any ideological leadership, of a neo-imperial policy in favor of Realpolitik, which pursues national interests but proceeds from a sober assessment of the reduction of the economic, demographic, and military potential. The initial focus exclusively on the West led to deep disappointment since it was unwilling to pay generously for the self-destruction of the “Evil Empire.”

The difficult outcome of the Yeltsin period forced Putin, despite his initial “Westernism,” to open a new chapter in the history of Russia. The impressive economic recovery facilitated the strengthening of the “power vertical,” which is inseparable from the restoration of the country’s international weight. On this basis, Putin sought to reconcile the cooperative spirit of the early 1990s and rigor in defending Russian interests. The post-Soviet space came to the fore among the priorities, and the author considers active support for the United States in its fight against the Taliban, joining the G7, the resumption of cooperation with NATO in a new format (20 instead of 19 + 1), and the adoption of a plan for the construction of four common spaces with the EU as achievements in its Western direction. The author explains the subsequent cooling by the reaction to the policy of the West, which affects the sensitive interests of Moscow: the US withdrawal from the ABM Treaty and NATO’s movement to the east. At the same time, as the author notes, Moscow avoided a direct break with Washington. For example, its position in the Iraqi crisis of 2003 coincided with the opinion of Paris and Berlin: while condemning military intervention, none of them wanted the United States to lose.

Characteristically, although in the period from 2001 to 2003‒2004, one can post factum discern a clear trend of increasing opposition to Pax Americana in Moscow’s foreign policy, Rubinskii’s text focuses on continuity from the original idea of solidarity with the West, corrected by the pragmatic desire to defend our own interests and development paths in all combinations. A clear rejection of the pro-Western paradigm was still ahead, but the question of its causes remains. Regarding the prospects for continuing Putin’s course in his second presidential term, Rubinskii pointed out that “the answer depends not only on the president, not even on his country but also on their partners,” since attempts to solve international problems affecting interests of Russia “without it or against it” would revive the atmosphere of mutual distrust and systemic confrontation that had previously marked the relations between Russia and the West [Roubinski, 2020, p. 93].

Four years later, at the beginning of the presidential cycle of D.A. Medvedev and after the famous Munich speech by Putin, the author returned to the topic of foreign policy choice. The Europeans were worried about the continuity of politics under the new president. Rubinskii’s prediction was perfectly accurate. For him, the continuity of foreign policy during a change of president was determined by the absence of a real alternative to the chosen course since sovereignty and security remained absolute priorities [Roubinski, 2020, p. 72]. The outbreak of the global financial crisis brought to the fore the promotion of national interests in the economic sphere. The limited resources determined self-limitation in ambitions: the protection of national interests without confrontation, the rejection of futile attempts to catch up with the United States and be a counterbalance to the United States or the West, the proportionality of the costs of modernizing the army to economic opportunities, and the reasonable sufficiency of the nuclear deterrence arsenal. However, self-restraint turned out to be transient and corresponded to the time of joining the global market, where the rules of behavior were dictated by those who had stood at its cradle.

The economy, as a rule, is not a strong point of political analysts despite the proven role of economic factors in shaping the political course and diplomatic priorities of the modern state. Meanwhile, Rubinskii’s book gives a significant place to the economic factor as the most important resource of the Russian government and at the same time as a source of problems, since the first and main trump card and simultaneously the stumbling block in Russia’s relations with Europe was its transformation into an “energy hyperpower.” By the mid-2000s, in direct connection with the “orange revolution” in Ukraine and the parliamentary and presidential elections in Russia, the energy interests of Russia and the EU were at the center of the discussion since the main financial and political levers of Russian power were concentrated in this area. At the same time, the role of oil rent in Russian society raised concerns about the country’s transformation into a raw materials appendage of developed countries. The Europeans, in their characteristic manner of building energy partnerships, considered it natural to have complete control over the entire energy chain—from exploration and production to distribution to the end consumer. The Russian side sought to regain control not only over production but also over pipeline networks and ensure participation in the profits of Western distribution companies.

The growing energy interdependence between Russia and the EU was not only a benefit but also a source of tension. No less difficult was the cooperation−rivalry in energy projects linking Russia and the United States. The highest point of their development falls on the first years of the administration of George W. Bush, and the author directly points to the role of the strengthened Russian−American partnership against Islamic terrorism in the period of the acute crisis in American−Arab relations. Each of the three main directions of Russia’s energy policy indicated by Rubinskii (strengthening state control over the industry, attracting foreign investment for the construction of pipelines both in the west and in the east, and the penetration of Russian capital into the energy sector of the post-Soviet states) caused a negative reaction from partners [Roubinski, 2020, p. 101]. Russian experts constantly had to defend themselves against the reproaches of their European colleagues for using “energy weapons” to put pressure on importers and transit states of Eastern Europe. At the same time, the deployment of Russian pipelines exclusively to the west created a binding dependence on the energy policy of the consumers, which made little secret of their desire to diversify suppliers and delivery routes bypassing Russia. In responding to these claims, it was necessary to show that Russia’s intransigence was not politically but economically motivated since Russia has higher costs for the extraction and delivery of energy carriers compared to Middle Eastern suppliers, which requires huge investments for their development. In addition, note the high share of domestic energy consumption. Thus, Russia cannot do without a constant increase in the production and sale of energy carriers, and its economic growth is directly related to the world market, which it does not control.

WHY IS RUSSIA UNABLE TO ABANDON ITS IMPERIAL POLICY?

The lion’s share of the book is devoted to the fate of Russia’s imperial heritage, its policy in the “near abroad”—in the vast area originally united within the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS). Russia’s behavior here raised two main questions. At the initial stage of its development as a post-Soviet state that shared the fate of the former republics of the collapsed Soviet Union, it was the question of the country’s ability to fit into the new, European geopolitical combination. To integrate Russia, a huge and alien entity for centuries, on the basis of convergence with the West was possible only relying on “norms,” i.e., on its rejection of great-power ambitions, which seemed reasonable because of the qualitative decline in the economic, military, and technological potential and the death of Bolshevism with its universal communist mission. The concept of norm, echoing this request, repeatedly pops up in the works of French analysts devoted to Russian foreign policy from Yeltsin to Putin [Obichkina, 2021, pp. 180‒191]. For Europeans, it was obvious that a country the GDP of which in the late 1990s was equal to that of the Netherlands was bound to come to terms with the position of an ordinary player, guided by the solidary West. The other question, also posed within the framework of the Western paradigm, was about the ability of Russia to part with the imperial policy in its immediate environment. It concerns not only the existential choice of Russia but also affects the interests of its Western partners struggling for influence in the post-Soviet space.

Going by J.-B. Duroselle’s formula “every empire will perish,”Footnote 1 known to every French humanities scholar, the Russian historian in his detailed analysis of the collapse of the Soviet Union adds in the spirit of Tolstoy, “but each dies in its own way.” The explanation of the peculiarities of the Russian policy of accompanying this process is intended to overcome its simplified perception in the West. Domestic historiography for a long time postponed a comprehensive study of the history of this policy because of its extreme politicization, leaving the issue at the mercy of politicians and political scientists. This makes Rubinskii’s historical work on understanding the recent past, built on the universal methodological principles of historical science, even more valuable; these principles make it possible to inscribe organically the collapse of the Soviet Union in global history—in the global process of decolonization, which runs counter to the opinion about the decisive role of the nationalist-minded elites of the former Soviet republics. The initial message of Rubinskii is that the main factor in the collapse of the Soviet Union was the collapse of the Soviet system itself, the low economic efficiency of which did not allow the regime to cope with the burden of internal problems and multiplying international obligations and to respond to the military−technological challenge of the West. I would also add that the Soviet “empire” rested on a unique model of the “party–state,” and the decrepit ideological skeleton, which had cemented multinational unity for 70 years, crumbled, causing the death of the whole organism.

At the same time, very important is the author’s suggestion about the organic origins of and long-term prerequisites for the nationalist explosion in the Soviet republics in the late 1980s. He points out that the movement for national self-determination of colonially dependent peoples, since the early 1950s actively supported and used by Moscow to weaken world capitalism, “could not stop at the borders of the Soviet Union” [Roubinski, 2020, p. 128], which is why, at the time of the collapse of the Soviet regime, the party nomenklatura in the national republics urgently needed to “change into national clothes” in order to stay in power. From the political point of view, a relatively painless change of power was ensured by the alliance of reformers from the Soviet nomenklatura and Russian liberals with moderate nationalists on the ground. At the initial stage (in the early 1990s), the collapse of the empire in Russia, the second in the 20th century, did not repeat the bloody history of the first one, primarily because the metropole itself became its main driving force. The creation of the CIS helped to avoid chaos and wars like those that accompanied the death of great empires of the past, including the French one. These circumstances determined the nature of the “divorce”: voluntary on the part of Russia, since the liberal reformers of the first wave, in their rush to the West, saw the former Asian outskirts, less developed and inclined towards authoritarian rule, as the main obstacle to market reforms and democracy in Russia. The belief that the path of joint development would require huge funds, necessary for the modernization of Russia itself, to support the former peripheries, was accompanied by the conviction that there was no alternative to maintaining their connection with Moscow. These calculations turned out to be correct in the short term, mainly due to the initially weak interest of external players in the troublesome economies of the former Soviet republics of Asia and the Caucasus.

In the medium term, the centrifugal processes that accompanied the formation of the new independent states accelerated: the search for their own identity, sources of development, and external partners, which resulted, as one of the consequences, in discrimination on the ground and the mass exodus of the Russian population. The history of relations between the newly independent states within the CIS and outside it, as well as their relations with Russia, is covered in the book in full detail. The lion’s share of the text, the central part, entitled “After the USSR,” is devoted to these subjects. Here I would like to consider two main issues related to Russia’s policy in the post-Soviet space and determining the nature of its current relations with the West: the preservation of its “imperial” ambitions in the near abroad and the search for a formula for relations with the West that could ensure Russian interests in the context of the post-Soviet reorganization of the region.

Rubinskii shows that the promotion of the CIS to the fore among Moscow’s foreign policy priorities had deep reasons, organic to the new Russian geopolitics, which accounted for changes in the international context, primarily in the field of security. Putin, the winner of the 2000 election, saw the CIS primarily as an expanded security space: in the east, in the face of a strong China; in the south, because of the growing Islamist threat; and in the west, because of NATO expansion. Equally important, according to the author, was the growth of mutual interest in enhanced cooperation with Russia on the part of a number of CIS countries that are most dependent on it in the financial, energy, and military fields. At the same time, the diversity of interests of the CIS members, the asymmetry of their relations with the former metropole, along with the lack of economic potential of Russia itself, prevented the development of the CIS as a viable integration matrix capable of increasing the potential of its members. Possible financial and technological “sponsors” of their modernization were beyond its borders. Hence, narrower formats of cooperation and, to an even greater extent, bilateral agreements aimed at maintaining the old ties and actualizing mutual interests were preferable compared to the unification of the twelve CIS countries.

RUSSIAN INTERESTS IN CENTRAL ASIA: THE POSSIBILITY OF A POSITIVE-SUM GAME

The diversification of methodological approaches in the analysis of various geographic directions of Russian policy in the heterogeneous post-Soviet space also deserves special attention—first and foremost, the two most acute dossiers on relations with Ukraine and politics in Central Asia. I mean protecting the interests of Russia in the early 2000s in a region that had become the center of a “great game” on a planetary scale. In addition to Russia, China and the United States participated in it; in their geopolitics, it appears as the “Greater Middle East.” The instability and variability of the balance of power in the region do not allow a static approach in the hardened categories of “eternal” interests and “historical rights”; hence, the author adopts methods of analysis and forecasting that correspond to the dynamics of the game. He offered a horizontal cut, with a detailed analysis of interests and political combinations involving Russia and the United States at a time when relations between them approached a fork on the road, from which two paths departed: cooperative and confrontational. The former was dictated by a sound assessment of the correlation of forces. According to Rubinskii, “Russia is aware of the limitations of its capabilities, which are no longer the same as they were under the Soviet Union. Therefore, it prefers compromise to fruitless and ruinous confrontation, assuming that it can divide influence in its ‘reserved zone’” [Roubinski, 2020, p. 410]. The reader can watch the initial stage of the game, knowing the result in advance. It is interesting to look into the calculations of the players. Using this metaphor, Rubinskii proposes to go beyond analysis in the usual logic of the zero-sum game, in which the gain of one means the loss of the other. The author sees other combinations in accordance with the prospects that opened as a result of the end of the Cold War and the September 11 terrorist attack. It was a time when the West expected a conflict of interests between Russia and China and considered the United States to be the main political player. At that time, Moscow did not decide on a priority strategic partner, but wanted the West to be it, provided that the partnership was equal.

The Kremlin hoped that the growing contradictions with China and “minor” players in the region were pressing the West into close partnership with Russia. Despite objections to NATO’s eastward expansion, the absolute priority of security was the fight against international terrorism. Western countries assigned Russia a secondary role in the great game in Central Asia since their mirrored belief was that a potential conflict of interests with China in the Far East and Central Asia weakened Russia’s position, which reduced the motivation to compromise, to respect Russian interests. Meanwhile, the outcome of the great game could be reduced to a positive sum [Roubinski, 2020, p. 404]. The new independent states bordering Afghanistan could not independently repel the armed offensive of Islamic extremists, and the United States itself did not want to divert resources from the priority direction—the Middle East. Under those conditions, the complete exclusion of Russia from Central Asia was not part of the plans of the United States, which preferred to find a way to coexist with Russia there. In turn, Moscow sought to demonstrate the inviolability of its interests by intensifying efforts for military (CSTO) and economic (Eurasian Economic Community) integration, timed, according to the author, to coincide with the official visit of George W. Bush to Moscow in May 2002. Moscow’s implicit “message” eventually determined the further development of the game. Such a comparison of seemingly dissimilar events is the “hallmark” of the analyst Rubinskii: it allows one to create a complete picture from particulars, which is not always obvious to an observer with a narrower horizon. On the one hand, relations between Russia and the United States in the region were not limited to a simple “winner−loser” balance. On the other hand, Russia became a key player in the security of the region, and the geographical boundaries within which it ensures its security on the southern flank are much wider than the post-Soviet space. Thus, the great game departed from the original rules, as predicted in one of the scenarios considered by Rubinskii. At the same time, the continuation of cooperation around Afghanistan did not cancel the main, divergent vector of Russia’s relations with the West, which in other directions increasingly gravitated toward a zero-sum game. In those years, it was already marked by active military cooperation between the United States and Georgia, and the intensified struggle for the post-Soviet space was determined not so much by the balance of power between Moscow and the solidary West but by the compatibility of the prospects for the development of new independent states with the choice of Russia itself.

GEOPOLITICS IN THE SERVICE OF GEOECONOMICS: THE “PIPELINE WAR” AS A SOURCE OF DIVORCE FROM UKRAINE

The acute European security crisis of 2021−2022, centered around the Russian−Ukrainian contradictions, makes us think about its origins because it would be a simplification to reduce it to the divergent vectors of the post-Soviet development of the two countries or to a more specific cause—the reunification of Crimea with Russia in 2014. From the political point of view, its origin fits into the clash of two divergent geopolitics: the Russian one, which is interested in joint development and strengthening of integration, and the Ukrainian one, which has chosen the Western path of development—a choice psychologically unacceptable for the Russian elite. However, this explanation cannot be exhaustive since it does not explain the extreme degree of involvement of the West in this dossier. Rubinskii sees the clue in geoeconomics.Footnote 2 He explores the energy interests at the heart of Russian−Ukrainian tensions over the first gas price conflict between Gazprom and Naftogaz in January 2006 through relations in the “triangle” with the EU as the third apex. Despite the quick resolution through compromise, that conflict was perceived in Brussels very painfully since it affected the energy security of the EU, and economic frictions in the gas sector became a constant irritant in Russia’s relations both with Ukraine and with other transit countries and, at the same time, with consumers from Eastern Europe, as well as a source of concern in the EU countries, a third of their gas needs being satisfied by Russia. The author sees the motives for tightening Gazprom’s pricing policy in the economy. This is the need to modernize the worn-out pipeline system of Gazprom, the main artery that fed the Russian budget, which required investments many times exceeding the country’s capabilities. Rubinskii cites an astronomical amount equal to three times Russia’s GDP [Roubinski, 2020, p. 341], which could not afford preferential gas prices for Eastern European transit countries.

The main link in this chain was Ukraine, which was offered a choice: to accept the market price for gas, giving up its previous privileges, or to subordinate the national gas distribution networks to Gazprom and to join the Eurasian Economic Union. Since the strengthening of sovereignty in the eyes of Kyiv ruled out energy integration with Russia, especially after the “orange revolution,” Yushchenko’s team transferred the gas issue into a strategic plane, moreover, at the most sensitive point, linking the increase in the price of Russian gas with the price of renting Sevastopol. For the EU, the interest in its own energy security at the same time increased the desire to create a common energy space with Russia and required containment of Gazprom’s pressure on transit countries. The particular issue of the price of gas supplies thus went beyond bilateral economic disputes and threatened to poison the general climate of relations between Russia, the countries of the common neighborhood, and the EU.

At that time, the author saw a way out on the paths of harmonizing energy interests in the spirit of the historical formula of E. Faure “independence in interdependence,” which could permit avoiding a repetition of gas crises. Since this scenario failed, these crises have been repeated many times. The fact that it was Russia that turned off the gas valve in the dead of winter gave Europeans the idea that Russia used energy blackmail and led to an acceleration of Ukraine’s rapprochement with the EU and NATO, drawing a “red line” between Russia and the West. Ukraine will not become “a bridge between Russia and the West,” but, as the author predicted, “unfortunately, it will turn into a field of clashes between them” [Roubinski, 2020, p. 381]. What was written immediately after Yushchenko had come to power in 2004 came true in 2013. The Ukrainian issue became an indicator of the general deterioration in Russia’s relations with the West and a parallel change in the geopolitical orientations of Russia itself. In Rubinskii’s book, its reasons and content are considered in the special part “The Double-Headed Eagle.”

GEOPOLITICAL BREAK IN THE NEW PARADIGM OF INTERNATIONAL DEVELOPMENT

Two almost simultaneous events in the spring−summer of 1997—the signing of the NATO−Russia Founding Act and the decision of the Atlantic Council to invite the first three candidates from Eastern Europe to NATO—gave rise to reflections on the future of European security. Rubinskii notes that they opened a new stage in the creation of a system of collective security in Europe, which requires from the leaders of the United States, Russia, and European countries “responsibility, wisdom, and imagination” [Roubinski, 2020, p. 436]. The question arises as to why Russia reacted so painfully to the expansion. Rubinskii sees the stumbling block in Russia’s rejection of the limitation of state sovereignty, proposed by the West. By voluntarily agreeing to delegate its attributes to Brussels, the EU and NATO members secured the right to “humanitarian intervention” in third countries in case the latter grossly violated human rights. Against the backdrop of the start of a military operation in Chechnya, the approach of the Alliance to the borders of Russia unleashed the most serious crisis of confidence between Russia and NATO, all the more acute because Moscow did not have the means to counter it. The author predicted that this made the start of a new cold war inevitable. The status of a “privileged partner” of NATO for Russia could reduce the costs of the expansion, which would ensure close cooperation and transparency in the field of security. In parallel, Russia sought to strengthen the role of the OSCE and was interested in strengthening the European defense identity based on the Western European Union, outside of American tutelage. The author’s vast diplomatic experience did not allow him to be carried away by dreams, which did not prevent him from warning the European reader about the danger of building relations with Russia as a power defeated in the Cold War, since “winners and losers can, as happened many times in the 20th century, change places” [Roubinski, 2020, p. 457].

THE FAILURE OF THE “SHARED DREAM” IN THE RUSSIA−TURKEY−EU TRIANGLE

In the formation of a new world hierarchy, various combinations of centers of power are of particular importance. I already wrote about the methodological contribution of Rubinskii to the study of Franco−Russian relations in the historical European triangle Paris−Berlin (Bonn)−Moscow [Obichkina, 2020, pp. 191‒201]. Along with this, the book examines in detail the centuries-long history of the large Eurasian triangle Russia−Turkey−Western Europe. Russia and Turkey are related by the border position between Europe and Asia, as well as the acuteness of the issue of choosing an identity between Westernization and autochthonous development and, consequently, the unresolved issue of belonging to the European family. In both countries, the source of modernization was seen primarily in the West, and the “shared dream” of getting closer to the European development pole became the core of the essay. The reason for writing it was the inclusion of Turkey in the waiting list for EU accession in December 1999.

In this regard, the author is interested in the question of where the borders of Europe end. It worried both the “Westerners” in Russia and the Europeans—opponents of Turkey’s accession, primarily in France. The question immediately arose as to why not Russia or Ukraine, but Muslim Turkey was considered as a candidate. The author was skeptical about the possibility of integrating Turkey, as well as Russia or Ukraine, into the EU during the lifetime of the current generation but believed that Russia and Turkey could, each in its own way, become bridges between Europe and the regions of Asia through the Middle East, Central Asia, and the Caucasus if relations in these areas developed in the logic of cooperation, not rivalry. At the same time, he pointed to the possibility that the dialogue between the West and Russia from a position of strength could, as had happened many times in history, return Turkey to its former significance in the anti-Russian front. Subsequent experience showed that relations with the EU in Turkey and Russia developed in a different logic, in the outlined but not yet established paradigm of divergent geopolitical, if not civilizational, development. The double rejection of the “European dream” by the two Euro−Asian powers erased the inclusive lines of force in the triangle. The consequences were predicted by Rubinskii about twenty years ago: “any decision that leaves one country or another as marginal or pushes them out of Europe will mean the end of the ambitious aspirations of Europeans to turn their Union someday into a real center of power” [Roubinski, 2020, p. 634].

Every book, after publication, turns from a statement into a subject of study. At first glance, this edition lacks the dating of the publications included in it, but, apparently, this is not an omission but an intention. The statement in real time loses its transient character and, devoid of a touch of topicality, is brought to a higher level of relevance. The ability of an historian to establish causal relationships in two perspectives—a horizontal one, in which the reader can understand why events taking place in one part of the world resonate in others, and a retrospective one, which allows the reader to consider the process in dynamics, makes it possible to build scenarios for subsequent development in a new coordinate system, outlined in the book by a dotted line. The sharp aggravation of the discussion between Russia and the West on European security issues in connection with the Ukrainian problem since the fall of 2021, as well as the general trend of the diverging movement of Russia and NATO countries, are discordant with the general idea of a European community advocated by Rubinskii. However, the fact that the message to contemporaries and future generations was not appreciated at the moment when the author had a need to formulate it does not mean that the effort was in vain.