War with Russia

“Don’t give me that,” the President interrupted, voice dripping sarcasm. “You can’t call a few shortages hardship! What you describe may affect the Moscow middle class, but it is irrelevant to people in the heartland of Russia. Our people.”

“Vladimir Vladimirovich, you are, of course, correct,” the Interior Minister said. “But people are no longer as tough as in Soviet days. They have been spoiled. The middle classes have traveled abroad for holidays and know what they are missing. But to hell with them! What does concern me is increasing unemployment and increased levels of poverty among the jobless.”

The President waved a hand in dismissal. “This is a fact of Russian life. It sets us apart from the softness and excesses of the West. But what about the so-called opposition? They can hardly call themselves credible if, two years later, no one has yet emerged to take that agitator Boris Nemsov’s place.”

Komarov saw the Interior Minister frown and decided to support him. “I regret, Vladimir Vladimirovich, that his killing two years ago created a martyr and a focus for those who dare to oppose you.”

“It had to be done,” the President snapped back. “He was a dangerous and destabilizing figure.”

“Of course,” Komarov equivocated. “But the minister is correct in highlighting the threat his name still poses. The memorial to him where he was killed is regularly cleared away by the police, but it is always replaced.”

“I won’t have it!” The President was getting annoyed. “The bridge is to be guarded and anyone daring to replace the memorial is to be arrested!”

“It will be done, Vladimir Vladimirovich,” said the Interior Minister, who then turned to look squarely at the Deputy President. “Don’t forget I counseled against the liquidation, but others thought differently. If he had been left alone, he would have burned out on drink and women.”

“Enough!” directed the President. “We must give the people pride in Russian power… as we did when I took over the Crimea three years ago. That is the way to restore morale and to neutralize the opposition.”

“Exactly right, Vladimir Vladimirovich!” the Deputy President exclaimed loudly.

“Thank you, Viktor Anatolyevich. I take that as your support,” the President said drily to his deputy.

Komarov liked the Deputy as much as he liked any man at that table. He was a former Ambassador to NATO and knew the West well. On the face of it he was a charming, open internationalist, a fluent English speaker married to a beautiful former Russian pop star. He gave the impression of being one half of a star couple, who wowed the Brussels dinner party circuit with their glamour and ability to set even the stuffiest diplomatic dinner party alight with their dancing. In reality, the Deputy President was a hardline nationalist, very much one of the siloviki, appalled by the collapse of the Soviet Union, humiliated by the accession of the Baltic states to NATO, and determined to re-establish Russian power in its traditional “near abroad” by whatever means were necessary.

“You, Vladimir Vladimirovich,” said the Deputy, “you alone have restored Russian pride after the disastrous end of the Soviet Union at the hands of that traitor Gorbachev. Your leadership has restored Russia to the status of a great power after the chaos he caused. The economic position may be difficult, but now is the time of opportunity, the time for boldness!” He slammed his hand on the table for emphasis.

The President gestured at him to continue.

“The West may have great economic capability, but they think only of social welfare. They have forgotten how to stand up for themselves. I know from my time as your Ambassador to NATO that this is an alliance which is all talk and no action. But, nevertheless, it continues to pose a danger to Russia. It continues to encroach on our borders and its long-term strategy of encirclement of the Motherland is plain to see.”

As Komarov recorded these words, he noted the President tightening his jaw and clenching his right hand into a fist as if crushing his enemies. However, he also noted how the President avoided seeking reassurance from the others at the table, as that was a mark of weakness. He nodded at the Deputy President, saying nothing. Instead, he turned to the Foreign Minister, “Yevgeney Sergeyevich, have we succeeded in dividing our enemies abroad? If so, is now the time to exploit those divisions?”

The Foreign Minister was tall and gray-haired, with the look of a distinguished international diplomat. “Vladimir Vladimirovich, you have nothing to fear from the European Union. Yes, the sanctions regime has hurt us, but it hurt them, too. Besides, the mass migration crisis is well on the way to causing its collapse. So your efforts to undermine them, to divide them, particularly your bold decision to conduct air strikes in Syria, are having precisely the effect we anticipated.”