The use of North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) aircraft and missiles against Serbia on March 24, 1999 ended the post–Cold War phase of international affairs. The Serbs conducted ethnic cleansing against the Albanians on an unprecedented scale, but these attacks escalated after the initiation of the NATO air campaign.

The attack on Serbia suddenly removed a Russian taboo against the use of military force that followed the first war in Chechnya of 1994–1996. NATO’s military action was a final humiliation and a “spit in the face” for Russia, which more than ever before demonstrated the Western arrogance of power and its willingness to ignore Russian interests.

Russia has learned many lessons from Kosovo.  Above all, the end justifies the means. The use of force is the most efficient problem solver, if applied decisively and massively. Negotiations are of dubious value and should be used as a cover for military action. International law and human suffering are of secondary significance in achieving the goal. Massive devastation and collateral fatalities among the civilian population are acceptable in order to limit one’s own casualties. Foreign public opinion and the position of Western governments are to be discounted if Russian interests are at stake. The key to success is a concentrated campaign in the mass media and tight control over information about the war.

After an unprecedented decade of disarmament, de–targeting of nuclear missiles, cooperation, and transparency in defense and security matters between Russia and the United States, Kosovo has revived the worst instincts and stereotypes of the Cold War. It is likely that US–Russian relations will never be the same as before March 24, 1999. The Clinton administration and its European allies bear full responsibility for this change.

The growing rift between Russia and the West is reflected in new editions of the highest official documents: Russia’s National Security Concept and Military Doctrine. They emphasize nuclear deterrence and nuclear first use as the principal pillars of Russian security; robust conventional defense against a “Balkan–type” attack by NATO; and regular employment of the armed forces to deal with local, including domestic conflicts. Russian military spending will probably rise from the present 2.8 per cent of Gross National Product to about 3.5 per cent. That level of expenditure would permit several different options for future force structure, which are explored in the text.

To prevent further tensions and military confrontation between Russia and the West, US–Russian and NATO–Russian security cooperation must be patiently and consistently rebuilt step–by–step. Pragmatically and without excessive expectations, the zone of cooperation must be expanded and given solid public support. The ratification of Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty–II (START–II) by the Russian State Duma (Parliament) on April 14, 2000 gave a good start to such a policy. Now it depends largely on the United States whether a new START–III/Anti–Ballistic Missile (ABM) package can be negotiated. Other steps should be a tacit understanding that there will be no further NATO expansion during the next several years. The NATO–Russia Permanent Joint Council (PJC) could become the forum for planning joint peacekeeping operations, on which Moscow by definition should participate as an equal with NATO member states. At least tacitly, it must be recognized that NATO will not implement any new out–of–area military action, except by authorization of the United Nations (UN) Security Council. Deep reductions and restructuring of conventional forces for joint peacekeeping operations could be a goal for the Conventional Armed Forces of Europe–2 (CFE–2) treaty process.

Even if all these goals are achieved, the great dreams of post–Cold War integration, partnership, and even strategic alliance of the early 1990s will hardly be revived. However, further disintegration of the international security and arms control regimes can be stopped, and a reasonable measure of cooperation between Russia and the West can be enhanced— until the time when major new reforms in Russia’s domestic life, as well the West’s foreign policy and strategy, may open the door to much closer economic, political, and military integration.¹

The first wave of North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) aircraft and missiles that hit Serbian targets on March 24, 1999 marked the end of the post–Cold War phase of international affairs—a period of world history that Russian President Mikhail Gorbachev had initiated some 10 years earlier. The United States–led action in Kosovo also deeply undermined the emerging framework of international security.

This new security system was allegedly based on an enhanced role for the United Nations (UN) and the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE). It assumed strict conformity with the UN Charter; compliance with international law; respect for existing agreements between Russia and the West (especially the NATO–Russia Founding Act of 1997),² and a partnership between Russia and NATO, to include joint conflict–management and peacekeeping operations, as well as comprehensive arms control and disarmament regimes.

Kosovo reversed these trends. The war resulted in Russia’s experiencing an unprecedented surge of anti–American and anti–Western sentiments, and these sentiments had many ramifications. The Russian public became markedly disenchanted with the West. Moscow initiated a desperate search for other foreign partners and renewed its efforts to build up a defense capability against the United States (U.S.) and its allies. The war in Yugoslavia did away with the remaining hopes for a genuine security partnership and military cooperation between Russia and NATO. Once again, Russia perceives NATO as its primary defense concern for the foreseeable future.

As a result, a number of crucial treaties, that had been signed, planned, and/or finalized, were “frozen” without ratification: Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty–III (START–III); Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty (CTBT); the Open Skies Treaty; and the adaptation of the Treaty on Conventional Armed Forces in Europe (CFE). (START–II, however, was ratified by Russia on April 14, 2000. The State Duma [Parliament] approved the CTBT on April 21, 2000.) Still worse, the implementation of previously ratified treaties and/or unilateral agreements was placed in doubt: START–I (which is undermined as well by renewed American plans for a strategic defense program); CFE; Intermediate–Range Nuclear Forces and Shorter–Range Missiles (INF–SRM); Chemical Weapons Convention (CWC); parallel reduction of tactical nuclear arms; and de–targeting of strategic missiles.³ armed forces firing a shot in any “hot spot,” in or outside of Russia.)

NATO’s decisive and efficient military action against Yugoslavia served as an example to Russia and provided Russia a powerful push toward a new military campaign in Chechnya. Western employment of large–scale forces in the Balkans lifted the taboo against the use of military force as an instrument for resolving ethnic problems and conflicts that had been in place since the end of the first Chechen war of 1994–1996. (From 1996–1999 there was not a single instance of Russian armed forces firing a shot in any “hot spot,” in or outside of Russia.) Following September 1999 clashes with the Wahhabis⁴ in Daghestan, Russia once again engaged military force in Chechnya.

Altogether, the NATO bombing of the Balkans resulted in strong public support for the Kremlin’s new war in Chechnya. It caused an overwhelming vote for hard–line politicians and nationalist parties in both the parliamentary elections of December 1999 and the presidential elections of March 2000. And, it very significantly triggered a major revision of both the Russian Federation National Security Concept (See Appendix B) and the Russian Federation Military Doctrine (See Appendix A).

The official new version of the National Security Concept was adopted by the Security Council in January 2000.⁵ In April 2000 the new Military Doctrine was approved by the Security Council.⁶ These revised documents provide a general security strategy framework for the new Russian President, Vladimir Putin, for many years ahead.

The new, revised, Russian official Military Doctrine was not written on a blank sheet of paper. Its basis, Principal Guidance on the Military Doctrine of the Russian Federation, was approved by the Security Council on November 2, 1993, and became law that same day as Presidential Decree No. 1833 (PGMD). The new doctrine retains some of the principal points of the PGMD, but it reprioritizes, elaborates on, and presents a sharper and more straightforward substance.

In the past, official documents were purely declaratory and had nothing to do with actual diplomatic, military, and budgetary circumstances. However, the new Security Concept and Military Doctrine are notably very much in line with the current practice of Russian foreign and defense policies and programs.

During the last phase of the Cold War (from the mid–1970s to the mid–1980s) Moscow’s geopolitical space directly bordered on territories controlled or protected by the United States and China. Hence, Soviet armed forces were built, deployed, and assigned to meet specific strategic military goals: 1) to limit damage in a global nuclear war with any combination of the other four nuclear powers; 2) to win in large–scale, multi–theater wars in Europe and the Far East; and 3) to be able to conduct sub–regional operations in support of Russia’s Third World clients (e.g., Afghanistan).

In the early 1980s, at the apogee of the Cold War, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) had the world’s second largest economy. Its military budget was equal to that of America, although its Gross National Product (GNP) was roughly half as large. Of the almost four million men in the Soviet armed forces, about 70 per cent were allocated to the European theater, 20 per cent to the Far East, and 10 per cent to the southern zone. These forces were deployed under the umbrella of 10,000 strategic and 30,000 tactical nuclear weapons. The Soviet Union produced approximately 3,000 tanks, 600 aircraft, 1,000 missiles of all classes, and 20 large combat ships and submarines annually.

All of this appears in stark contrast to the present and foreseeable future. Currently, the former Soviet Republics lie to the west and south of Russia. They are marked by a high degree of internal instability, are vulnerable to external influences, and are engaged in tense relations, or even open armed conflict, with secessionist groups, with each other, or with Russia. The actual borders between Russia and the former Soviet Republics are mostly symbolic and are exposed to illegal migration and massive smuggling activities.

Russian GNP has fallen to 2.5 per cent of that of the U.S.⁷ The Russian defense budget has shrunk to 2 per cent of the American budget and the armed forces have been reduced to 1.2 million. Nuclear forces consist of 5,000 strategic and approximately 2,000 tactical warheads (which due to serial obsolescence will be reduced to around 1,000–1,500 in the next 10 years). Russian defense output is on the average 10–20 times smaller than it was in the 1980s.

Beyond dealing with the new countries that occupy former Soviet territory, Russia now faces a number of states and alliances with superior armed forces. NATO has enlarged its military power and moved much closer to Russian borders by accepting new member states. During the next 10 years, in addition to holding a conventional superiority in Europe of approximately 2:1, or even 3:1, NATO will also possess a substantial nuclear superiority in both tactical and strategic nuclear forces.⁸

Altogether, this is certainly a major shift in the military balance of Europe. Less than 10 years ago the Warsaw Pact enjoyed a 3:1 conventional force superiority over NATO, and a 2:1 superiority in theater and tactical nuclear weapons, as well as parity in strategic forces. The USSR alone was twice as strong in conventional forces as all European NATO states combined.

A numerical comparison of armed forces is an insufficient basis upon which to estimate the real war–fighting capabilities in offensive or defensive operations. However, due to the failures of Russian military reform from 1992–1997 and the chronic under-funding of Russian defense from 1997–1999 (in constant prices, during these 3 years, the military budget has fallen by 50 per cent), qualitative factors (training, combat readiness, command and control, troop morale, and technical sophistication of weapons and equipment, etc.) are presently even more favorable to NATO than pure numerical ratios might indicate. Such a fundamental shift is not conducive to Russian interests, irrespective of all other circumstances.⁹

At Russia’s southern rim, Turkey, Pakistan, and Afghanistan, and less likely Iran, may present security issues during the next 5–10 years. Most likely, such threats will not take a direct form, but rather will consist of support for regimes, political movements, or policies in the Transcaucasus and Central Asia, directed against Russia or its allies. Another possibility is that these states will engage in secessionist activities against Russia’s government (e.g., Chechnya), or against regimes friendly to Russia (e.g., Tajikistan).

In the Far East, Japan and China could pose a threat to Russia during the next 10–15 years. Japan’s conventional offensive capabilities in contrast to those of Russia will be quite limited for at least the next 10 years. The possible remilitarization of Japan and a revival of its expansionist strategies would represent a major change in the security environment of the Far East. A remilitarized Japan would require a profound revision of Russia’s regional military requirements, particularly its naval and air power. Of course this would not happen overnight, and Russia would have sufficient time to take adequate countermeasures.

China’s current military buildup, its geostrategic situation, and a long history of territorial disputes with Russia and the USSR might in the future encourage expansionist policies toward Russian Siberia and the Far East, or against Kazakhstan and other Central Asian allies of Moscow. In 10–15 years, China may achieve conventional offensive superiority along the Transbaikal and Maritime Province borders. Such an advantage would allow China to interdict Russian reinforcements from its European territory.

Whatever problems Russia faces in the former Soviet space around its current borders, prior to 1999 it was commonly accepted within the Russian political elite and strategic community that Russian armed forces were unlikely to be called upon to fight in a large–scale, theater–wide war in the foreseeable future, either in the east or in the west. In the Military Doctrine of 1993 there were references to the need for “defending against massive naval air strikes with high–precision weapons” (apparently mindful of the 1991 Gulf War precedent). However, this requirement for a defense against massive naval air strikes was not taken seriously and was never reflected in the military appropriations of 1994–1999. In fact, the inclusion of this scenario in the 1993 Military Doctrine was perceived as a tribute to Russia’s traditional military theorists and to the domestically motivated pandering to the defense establishment.

Former Minister of Defense Igor Rodionov advocated preparations for theater–wide conventional war with NATO. This, in turn, implied open–ended defense requirements and the need for a major increase in defense appropriations and force levels.¹⁰ Rodionov’s stance eventually led to conflict with the Secretary of the Defense Council, Yuri Baturin, and Boris Yeltsin, himself. The conflict ended with Rodionov’s demotion.

The Military Doctrine of 1993 postulated two main defense policy tasks: the simultaneous occurrence of stable nuclear deterrence and sound preparation to handle local conflicts (to include simultaneous peace enforcement and peacekeeping operations). However, President Yeltsin did not clearly formulate these principal doctrinal points until the appointment of Igor Sergeev as Minister of Defense in May 1997.

Despite tensions with NATO over the issue of its enlargement, the western military districts of Russia (Moscow, Leningrad, and Ural-Volga) were largely considered basing areas, providing a supply and training infrastructure for forces, and were assigned to missions in the south and southeast (in the North Caucasus military district, the Transcaucasus, and Central Asia, where Russia had security commitments and was engaged in local conflicts or in peacekeeping operations).

The defense budgets of 1997–1999 were structured accordingly, with a predominant portion (up to 70 per cent) allocated to the maintenance of the armed forces—while deeply cutting personnel numbers, altogether by 30 per cent. At the same time the investment appropriations—Research and Development (R&D), procurement, and production— were barely sufficient for modernization of the minimal strategic forces. This was all the more the case in that the federal budgets from 1994 on had never been fully implemented—with the exception of the 1999 budget—and annual cuts led to an even greater dominance of maintenance over investment (80:20 per cent).

NATO’s attack on Yugoslavia in March 1999 marked a watershed in Russia’s assessment of its own military requirements and defense priorities. For the first time since the mid–1980s, within operational departments of the General Staff and Armed Forces, the Security Council, and Foreign Ministry crisis management groups, and in closed sessions of the Duma, serious discussions took place concerning military conflict with NATO. All of a sudden the apocalyptic scenarios of a Third World War (the types of scenarios so superbly presented in Tom Clancy’s best–selling suspense novels), which were presumed to have been permanently discarded with the end of the Cold War, returned to the table as practical policy making and military operational planning issues. Following an unprecedented decade, for both Russia and the United States, of disarmament, de–targeting, cooperation, and transparency in defense and security matters, this was like a cold shower, reviving the worst instincts and stereotypes of the Cold War.

However short the period—those first few weeks of NATO bombing in the Kosovo war—its impact will probably scar the U.S.–Russian relationship forever. The relationship will never again be what it was before March 24, 1999. The Clinton administration and its European allies bear full responsibility for this upheaval.

NATO attacks against Yugoslavia were perceived as a clear demonstration of a genuine transformation of the alliance. During the Cold War, NATO really was a defensive coalition of states, capable of protecting their territories and deterring the superior offensive military power of the Warsaw Pact. With the collapse of the Warsaw Pact and the Soviet Union, the immediate military threat very suddenly evaporated, and NATO inadvertently became by far the most powerful military force in the world.

Absent the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact, NATO discovered the military missions of peace enforcement and peacekeeping. This redirection would have been welcome and expedient if the alliance had trimmed its forces and structures radically and provided its services to the legitimate international security organizations: the UN and OSCE.

However, NATO was too powerful, exclusive, and sophisticated to succumb to such a modest secondary position. Therefore, it made claim to a loftier, post–Cold War mission: that of being on an equal footing to, and possibly at a much higher level of status and power than the UN and OSCE. NATO, by implication, proclaimed its right to act independently of UN or OSCE authorization. UN and OSCE authorization is still recognized as desirable, but not essential, for NATO to initiate military action. Moreover, the new alliance strategy allows for offensive military action beyond the territories of NATO member states. For those countries that do not belong to, nor aspire to membership in the alliance, there is profound reason to fear possible NATO military action based on arbitrary decisions. The legitimate judgments of the UN and the UN Security Council—as the highest international court of justice to make such verdicts and to execute just punishments—are no longer the basis for NATO decisions.

On top of it all, Russia viewed NATO’s military action as a final humiliation and a “spit in the face.” NATO’s attack, more than ever before, demonstrated a Western arrogance of power and willingness to ignore Russian interests—especially when they diverged from those of the West.¹¹ Kosovo also demonstrated Russia’s total impotence in supporting its own declarations and commitments with even minimally tangible actions. It was a particularly painful humiliation for Moscow, in that President Yeltsin had personally guaranteed Yugoslav security and had taken many initiatives to solve the crisis peacefully.

The explosion of national pride and enthusiasm that took place in June 1999, when a battalion of Russian paratroopers made its blitz–march from Bosnia to Kosovo, testified to Russia’s pain.¹² This burst of enthusiasm, however, gave way to an even deeper sense of gloom and disappointment after the failure of Viktor Chernomyrdin’s mediatory mission. Far from achieving a negotiated settlement to the crisis, his visit did little more than to impose NATO dictates on Slobodan Milosevic and disperse Russian peacekeepers among NATO’s “occupation zones,” where they were subordinated to NATO commanders.

The military dimensions of the 1999 war are a subject to be explored in a separate study. Suffice it to say that NATO turned the war into a major military production, where the most advanced and sophisticated weapons, command and control systems, and operations and tactics were demonstrated. The campaign “Allied Force” continued for 78 days, with the participation of 14 out of 19 NATO member states. Altogether the NATO campaign employed 1,260 aircraft and 30 combat ships, including three aircraft carriers and six nuclear attack submarines with cruise missiles. NATO air power conducted 35,000 sorties, and about 15,000 bombs and missiles hit Yugoslavia. In preparation for a ground offensive, 27,000 troops were re–deployed to Albania and Macedonia. During the war the newest technology was extensively employed: stealth B–2 and F–117 airplanes; long–range, sea– and air–launched cruise missiles; guided bombs; cluster and penetrating munitions; space reconnaissance, communication and navigation systems; new, airborne warning and control systems; electronic warfare and counter–radar systems; and various kinds of drones, etc.

All of this frightening panoply of military power (representing almost 20 per cent of NATO’s full potential) was thrown against a small country with a population no larger than New York City, with a GNP smaller than the US military R&D budget, and an army of only 100,000 (armed with 1960s vintage Soviet weapons). Yugoslavia essentially failed to resist the massive air–campaign thrust upon it, symbolically firing back with only anti–aircraft guns and obsolete SA–6 and SA–7 missile systems.

As a preliminary conclusion it may be suggested that, oddly enough, this strange war in a post–Cold War Europe was technically well executed, but totally failed on the tactical and operational levels. It was a short–term strategic success, but appears to have failed to achieve the long–term strategic and political goals.

The initial goal of NATO was to degrade the Serbian Army, and its supply and infrastructure assets in Kosovo and across the rest of the country. The goal was to make the Serbian Army curtail its operations in Kosovo and retreat from the province, bringing an end to a humanitarian catastrophe and leading to the victory of the Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA), trained and supplied by the West. However, when Serbian troops finally did depart Kosovo, it became apparent that only 13 tanks were destroyed, while 300 tanks and Armored Personnel Carriers remained intact. The Serbian Army survived a terrible beating in Kosovo and was prepared to meet a ground offensive and to inflict heavy casualties on the enemy. Apparently Western statistics on the Yugoslav Army’s losses in Kosovo, and elsewhere, were highly exaggerated. In fact, the Serbian Army and police continued their operations in Kosovo up to the very last day before the truce. The KLA was fully defeated and driven out of the province. Ethnic cleansing was conducted against Albanians at an unprecedented scale (ethnic cleansing of the Albanians escalated only after the initiation of the NATO air campaign). And, the Kosovo war expanded the humanitarian catastrophe to almost a million Albanian refugees (plus 200,000 Serbian refugees) who fled the province to escape ground pogroms, the fighting, and NATO bombing.

In addition to the failures just discussed, NATO’s war failed to achieve a very basic early goal. As in the 1991 Gulf War, NATO used the tactic of attempting to provoke all of the enemy’s Surface–to–Air Missile (SAM) radars into operation against the first waves of aircraft. The purpose here was for NATO to discover and then destroy the SAM radar system with anti–radiation missiles, thus depriving Yugoslavia of any air defense capability. Having disabled Yugoslavia’s air defense, Western aircraft would then be in a position to attack the Serbian Army with precision–guided weapons from a low altitude and to provide close air support to NATO forces in the case of an eventual ground invasion. However, the Serbs thwarted this ploy by not switching on their radar at the time of the early NATO air attacks. They chose to preserve their air defense system for a potential NATO ground invasion, retaining their system for use when NATO aircraft would have to fly at low altitudes in order to provide air cover for ground forces.

Then, failing to destroy Serbia’s air defense, NATO avoided flying at lower altitudes. That is why, in the end, NATO losses were so amazingly small: two airplanes and 16 drones, and not a single pilot killed in combat. At the same time, however, the Serbian Army was not seriously crippled.

Not having achieved its initial goal, the NATO alliance apparently changed its strategy to focus on the destruction of Yugoslav industrial assets, infrastructure, administrative, and communications facilities. In this pogrom against a defenseless country from an altitude of 10,000 meters, NATO air power was highly “successful” (although the famous precision–guided weapons sometimes hit the wrong targets: embassies, like that of China, and even the wrong countries— Macedonia and Albania). Seven weeks of bombarding Yugoslavia destroyed 100 per cent of the oil refineries, 70 per cent of the defense industry, 60 per cent of the fuel storage facilities, 100 per cent of the electrical line transformers, and 40 per cent of the TV and radio stations—including the Belgrade TV center, where 16 civilian employees were killed by missiles. In addition, 68 bridges were destroyed, and 70 per cent of the roads and 50 per cent of the railroads were put out of action.

Altogether 1,500 people were killed—two–thirds of them civilians—2,500 lost their homes, and two million became jobless. Other collateral damage included 86 historic monuments, and more than 300 schools, hospitals, etc.

The destruction of oil refineries, oil storage, and chemical plants caused significant ecological damage. The heavy pollution from all this destruction entered the Danube, one of Europe’s main rivers, and was carried into the Black Sea and the Eastern Mediterranean.

In late 1999, the Chief Prosecutor of the UN International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia, Carla del Ponte, reviewed complaints, not only of Serbian atrocities in Kosovo, but also of NATO crimes committed during the course of the bombing campaign, including the issue of gross violations of the Geneva Convention on the rights of civilians during combat.¹³

Overall, the Kosovo war caused Russia to reconsider the basic tenets of its security structure. The new versions of the National Security Concept and Military Doctrine largely reflect Moscow’s military reaction to the Balkan war.

The principal point addressed by the new National Security Concept is that military threats to Russia are on the increase and the main danger emanates from the West: “Elevated to the level of strategic doctrine the shift of NATO to the practice of force employment outside its area of responsibility and without UN Security Council sanction is prone with the threat of destabilization of the whole strategic situation in the world.”¹⁴

One way for Russia to respond to this threat is to enhance its nuclear forces to deter not just nuclear, but also, large–scale conventional attacks of the type demonstrated in the Balkans. The new Military Doctrine states: “The Russian Federation reserves the right to use nuclear weapons in response to the use of nuclear and other mass destruction weapons—weapons [used] against Russia and its allies—as well as in response to a large–scale conventional aggression in critical situations for Russia and its allies.”¹⁵

Russia’s preference for a strong nuclear posture and its acknowledgement of the possibility of a first nuclear strike were already proclaimed in the 1993 Doctrine. During these times of economic, political, ideological, and military weakness and uncertainty, a combat ready (in contrast to de–alerted) nuclear arsenal is perceived by the majority of the new Russian political elite as the only legacy of its former status and influence in the world.

Russia’s historical position, as one of two major world powers, based on earlier nuclear and military might, allows it to symbolically remain equal to the United States and superior to all other nations. Russia’s traditional, conventional military superiority vis–à–vis NATO, Japan, and China has in fact declined during the last decade. Russia is now seriously inferior in terms of both quantitative and qualitative factors relating to theater military balances. Just as NATO employed a nuclear first use strategic concept during the decades after 1945 (when NATO needed to emphasize its nuclear forces in order to offset its conventional force vulnerabilities), Russia has chosen the same strategy. Since 1993, it has adopted a nuclear first use strategic concept in order to de–emphasize the weaknesses in its conventional military forces.

However, until the Yugoslav crisis, Russia’s National Security Concept was really a theoretical exercise, in that there was no serious external military threat—at least from the direction of the West. From 1993–1999 Russian strategic and tactical nuclear forces were consistently underfunded. Plans for modernization, operational plans, target lists, C³I systems and procedures were all stagnant. Nuclear forces were de–alerted and de–targeted, and their general readiness status was significantly relaxed.

“Today Yugoslavia—Tomorrow Russia.” This is the deeply felt public consensus since NATO’s attack. A serious reassessment of Russian military reform became essential. Once again conventional forces would need to be ready for the type of high–technology warfare dictated by NATO and the West, rather than focusing on the requirements of local or regional ground wars in the south. In reality, however, development and deployment of sophisticated military capabilities, analogous to that of NATO’s massive, precision–guided, conventional air and naval potential, would for a long time be beyond Russia’s financial capacity. Therefore, the most probable Russian response, a response that is already taking shape, would be to place even greater emphasis on a robust nuclear deterrence, relying on enhanced strategic and tactical nuclear forces and their C³I systems.¹⁶

Accordingly, on March 18, 1999 a new law, On Financing the Defense Contract for Strategic Nuclear Forces, was adopted by the Duma and approved by the President. This law envisions stable, long–term funding for strategic forces R&D and procurement at a level of about 40 per cent of the investment portion of the defense budget.

Of equal importance, this law emphasizes tactical nuclear forces as the prime candidate for first use against a large conventional attack. The Iskander, a new, tactical ballistic missile (with a range of below 500 km—the INF–SRM limit) and a new, naval tactical nuclear weapons system were specifically discussed as nuclear options. Russian Minister of Defense Igor Sergeev pointed out that the highest priority was “creating an integrated system of different forces, including strategic and tactical nuclear components, which will permit a reasonable concentration of efforts and resources of state for enhancing deterrence and preserving Russia’s nuclear potential.”¹⁷

Nonetheless, some Russian critics claim that the threat of nuclear first use would not be a credible deterrent against NATO. Due to Russia’s shortage of funding for maintenance and modernization of its nuclear forces, NATO will acquire a clear–cut nuclear strategic and tactical superiority over Russia during the next 10 years. Whereas a suicidal threat of nuclear escalation could present a credible deterrent against a full–scale, theater–wide conventional aggression—including major ground warfare—Balkan–type selective air and naval strikes, even if massive and prolonged, might not be deterred.

The NATO bombing campaign against Yugoslavia has left the Russian people with a vivid image of a possible future scenario—with Russia on the receiving end of surgical strikes against industrial, infrastructure, and military targets. These strikes would be especially targeted against nuclear forces and C3I sites, and would be sufficiently selective not to provoke a nuclear response. They would, however, efficiently destroy Russia’s deterrence capability within a few days or weeks. This possible scenario has been of serious concern to the Russian military for quite some time. Since Yugoslavia, it has certainly moved up to the very top of the list of military challenges. 

Hence, the new emphasis on building up and modernizing Russia’s conventional air defense, air force, and naval assets (in particular S–300 and S–400 SAMs, a new air superiority fighter, Multi–role Front–line Fighter [MFI], and new Yahont–type naval missiles, as well as a new precision–guided, long–range, conventional Air–to–Ship Missile [ASM] to be based on heavy bombers). These should be capable of inflicting sufficient losses on attacking NATO forces and bases to induce NATO either to stop its aggression, or to escalate it to the level of massive conventional warfare, including a ground offensive. This would then justify Russia’s first use of tactical nuclear weapons. The main portion of the supplemental appropriations for the year 2000 defense budget (approximately 26 billion rubles) was allocated to such programs.

Still, even if Russian military expenditures are raised from the present 2.8 per cent to 3.5 per cent of GNP, the new funding will hardly be enough to support: a) strategic nuclear forces at the START–III level (2,000–2,500 warheads); b) enhanced, tactical nuclear capability to deter large–scale, conventional threats in the east and in the west; c) strong conventional defenses to prevent Balkan–type aggression; and d) at the same time address the requirements of managing local conflicts around Russia’s perimeters, plus peacekeeping operations. The requirement to manage border conflicts has just recently arisen with the new, Kosovo–influenced, war in the North Caucasus.

Actually, in spite of all the emphasis on enhanced nuclear deterrence, a clear shift of defense priorities exists. In the short–run, the new defense priorities are local, conventional combat and peacekeeping operations along Russia’s borders, in post–Soviet space. In the longer term, the new defense priorities include planning for a robust conventional defense against a “Balkan–type” threat to Russia and its allies.

A crucial provision of the new National Security Concept and the Military Doctrine is that they clearly spell out the possibility of employing armed forces in domestic conflicts. The armed forces are, by definition, militarily superior to Russian internal troops and police. The use of military forces to resolve domestic problems, however, must be regulated by strict legal rules and procedures. Otherwise, the practice of their use will potentially be a major threat to a young and weak Russian democracy. Although at present this doctrinal point is evidently and directly related to the war in Chechnya, the precedent of using military force to control domestic conflicts could be extended to any other domestic issue. This could then lead to dictatorial rule by a commander in chief, some military leader, or politician, supported by the armed forces.

It has to be recognized that Russia’s new war in Chechnya, initiated in the fall of 1999, and its effect on the relationship between Russia and the West are closely tied to the events that took place in Kosovo earlier in the year. The war in Yugoslavia had a significant impact on Russia’s leadership and public opinion.

The main lesson learned is that the goal justifies the means. The use of force is the most efficient problem solver, if applied decisively and massively. Negotiations are of dubious value and are to be used as a cover for military action. Legality of state actions, observation of laws and legal procedures, and humanitarian suffering are of secondary significance relative to achieving the goal. Limiting one’s own troop casualties is worth imposing massive devastation and collateral fatalities on civilian populations. Foreign public opinion and the position of Western governments are to be discounted if Russian interests are at stake. A concentrated and controlled mass media campaign is the key to success.

All of these lessons learned were applied beginning in September 1999 with deadly results in the Chechen war, a “counter–terrorist operation” that transformed into a large–scale war. The first Chechen war syndrome was over. The taboo against the use of force in a Chechen–like environment no longer existed. Because NATO proclaimed its right to attack a sovereign state to achieve NATO’s own aims, Russia was all the more entitled to use force on its own territory. Russia would make it clear that no one would be allowed to intervene in Russian domestic affairs. The West would be taught that Russia is not Yugoslavia. This is how Russia thinks today.

The use of force in Chechnya is based on what is, in fact, a flimsy legal foundation, just like NATO’s action against Yugoslavia. According to the Russian law On Defense, the use of armed forces (in contrast to internal troops and special police units) to resolve domestic problems is regulated by the law On the State of Emergency. On the State of Emergency was adopted in 1999 and is now outdated. It permits the use of armed forces only for relief operations in natural and man–made catastrophes. Armed forces may never be used for domestic combat actions.

However, as was shown by both the Chechen war of 1994–1996 and the current campaign, internal troops and police, lacking heavy weapons and training in field combat actions, cannot cope with well–armed, organized, skilled, and motivated guerilla forces. For that reason, in both cases, Russian armed forces were employed. And, they were used without introducing the legally required State of Emergency. Lacking a declared State of Emergency, the wars were deprived of a proper federal legal foundation. The cost was high. There were huge additional losses and damage to the civilian population and federal forces, and many new problems were created for both Russian domestic politics and foreign policy.¹⁸

Although not based on the State of Emergency, the use of armed forces in the new Chechen campaign was officially sanctioned by, but not strictly covered by, another law, On Struggle with Terrorism. This law allows the use of armed forces in concrete operations against specific cases of terrorism and clearly defined terrorists. It does not authorize their use in long, large–scale military campaigns that use aircraft, armor, and artillery, nor in campaigns that devastate whole cities and villages, resulting in huge losses among federal troops (8,000 killed and wounded in 8 months), plus even heavier losses among the local population.

Russia’s dubious justification for the Chechen war and the war’s weak legal foundation are, among other things, serious reasons for the West’s strong condemnation of Russia’s actions. The results of the second Chechen war are questionable at best. The Chechen territory was re–conquered, but not without expense. Great losses occurred among federal troops and the local civilian population. There was large–scale devastation of property and of the local economies—foremost in the city of Grozny, but in many smaller towns and villages as well. Guerilla warfare will continue in Chechnya and will prevent social and political stabilization or economic restoration. Moreover, the threat of a horizontal escalation of massive warfare to the neighboring North Caucasus Republics and the Transcaucasus remains quite serious.

Hence, one of the crucial dilemmas of Russian domestic and military policy is whether using Russian armed forces in internal conflicts should be legalized by amending On the State of Emergency. Is it better to amend the law, given all the political dangers and devastating collateral effects inherent in that action, or to lose control over armed secessionist movements, armed revolts, and violent civil, ethnic, and religious conflicts, knowing that they cannot be effectively dealt with by internal troops and police? Another important issue is whether funding the use of armed forces and operations in Chechen–type conflicts will consume resources needed for nuclear deterrence and robust, sophisticated, conventional defense systems against a “Balkan–type” threat.

Even the broadest defense and budget assessments reveal that the principal priorities of Russian defense policy are hardly realistic under present and projected budget levels. Moreover, these priorities are clearly unattainable alongside the implementation of an actual Chechen–type military operation.

The Russian 2000 defense budget is currently defined at 146 billion rubles (approximately 5 billion dollars, using the commercial exchange rate, and probably 10–15 billion dollars, in terms of purchasing capacity). This is 2.8 per cent of Russia’s GNP and 16 per cent of its total federal budget.

Given the ongoing Chechen war, and assuming that it continues and spreads to other areas (at an annual cost of about 50 billion rubles), and that it receives further funding from Ministry of Defense and Ministry for Internal Affairs appropriations, there will be barely enough money to sustain the strategic nuclear forces (SNF) at a level of around 1,000 warheads, or even less, by the year 2010. SNF at this level will not provide credible, enhanced nuclear deterrence. Nor will any funding be available for training and equipping even minimal forces for other local contingencies or minimal modernized forces for “Balkan–type” defenses. If the war in Chechnya were to be over in the nearest future, then SNF could be maintained at a level of 1,500 warheads, and minimal forces for local conflicts could be funded by the year 2010.

If the defense budget were to be raised to 3.5 per cent of GNP (as was planned, but never fulfilled, by the Yeltsin administration)—an amount that would correspond to 180 billion rubles in the 2000 budget—and the armed forces were maintained at their present level of 1.2 million personnel, some additional options might be available.

One would be to maintain SNF at a level of 1,500 warheads in 10 years’ time; to expand, train, and modernize forces for local conflicts; and to provide for a minimal defense against a “Balkan–type” threat. (See Future Russian Force Options below, Option A)

A second option would be to maintain SNF at a level of 2,000–2,500 warheads (corresponding to the START–III framework agreement of 1997), but to retain minimal force capability for local conflicts and virtually no defense capability against a “Balkan–type” contingency. (Option B) The third major alternative would be to raise defense appropriations to 3.5 per cent of GNP, while at the same time reducing the armed forces to 0.8 million personnel and changing the ratio between the maintenance and investment portions of the defense budget to 55:45 per cent or even 50:50 per cent. This would allow the maintenance of SNF at a level of 3,000 warheads in 10 years (equivalent to the START–II ceiling), and it would simultaneously provide for expanded local conflict forces and a minimal “Balkan–type” conventional defense. (Option C)

Another option might be to retain the 2,000 SNF level and to fund moderate forces for local contingencies and “Balkan–type” defenses. (Option D)

Finally, it would be possible to reduce the SNF warhead level to 1,500 (modifying START–III) and to expand forces for local conflicts and robust defense against a “Balkan–type” threat. (Option E)    

All of the above considerations are, of course, predicated on the war in Chechnya being brought to a close and avoiding similar operations for the next 10 years. For a number of reasons, it is impossible at this time to provide more detailed financial and technical descriptions of the various nuclear and conventional postures described above. While the new Russian President will make the decision about Russia’s long–term defense strategy, the last option seems preferable to all others. It does not pose new confrontations with the West and may provide Russia with an increased national security confidence. These two factors could result in more equal and stable political and military relations with the United States and NATO.

It must be recognized that, under the cover of empty declarations and pompous summits, Russian–U.S. and Russian–Western relations have deeply deteriorated during the last half of the 1990s. The growing rift is reflected in Russia’s adopting new versions of its most important official documents: the National Security Concept and the Military Doctrine. These documents emphasize nuclear deterrence and nuclear first use as the principal pillars of Russian security, a robust conventional defense against threats posed by NATO, and the routine use of armed forces to deal with local, including domestic, conflicts.

To prevent further tensions and military confrontation between Russia and the West, U.S.–Russian and NATO–Russian security cooperation must be patiently and consistently rebuilt step–by–step. This must be accomplished on a pragmatic basis and without excessive expectations, gradually expanding the zone of cooperation, while at the same time building the required solid public support.

The United States should apply no official, public pressure on Moscow on the issue of Chechnya. Moscow should revise its Chechnya operation, curtailing large–scale offensive actions and concentrating on special operations against guerilla units and leaders. If NATO’s Kosovo peacekeeping operation were realigned to comply with UN Security Council Resolution No. 1244,¹⁹ a revival of the NATO–Russian “Partnership for Peace” would be encouraged.²⁰ Ratification of START–II by the Duma on April 14, 2000 provides a good beginning for the development of a cooperative security policy between Russia and the West. Now it depends largely on the United States as to whether a new START–III/Anti–Ballistic Missile (ABM) package can be negotiated.

Other steps to be taken should include a tacit understanding that there will be no further NATO expansion during the next several years. The NATO–Russia Permanent Joint Council (PJC), an integral part of the NATO–Russia Founding Act of May 1997, was created to “be the principal venue of consultation between Russia and NATO in times of crisis or for any other situation affecting peace and stability.” The PJC forum could be used to develop and finalize agreements, as well as to plan and prepare joint peacekeeping operations, on which Moscow by definition should participate as an equal with NATO member states.

It must be recognized, at least tacitly, that NATO will only implement any new out–of–area military action with the authorization of the UN Security Council. Deep reductions and a restructuring of conventional forces for joint peacekeeping operations could be a goal for CFE–2.

Even if all these goals are achieved, the great dreams of the early 1990s of a post–Cold War integration, partnership, and even strategic alliance will hardly be revived. However, it is possible to stop further disintegration of international security and arms control regimes. A reasonable measure of cooperation between Russia and the West can be enhanced, until the time when major new Russian domestic and Western foreign policy and strategy reforms may open the door for a much closer economic, political, and military integration. 

Dr. Alexei G. Arbatov has been a member of the Russian State Duma (Parliament) since 1994. He is deputy chair of the Duma Defense Committee, where he is responsible for the defense budget and processing of arms control treaties. He also serves as Director of the Center for Political and Military Forecasts at the Institute of World Economy and International Relations (IMEMO) of the Russian Academy of Sciences.

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