In matters of foreign policy, Western governments and their officials more often than not take rhetorical refuge in assertions of vague principle. It is nearly impossible for a country, especially a superpower, to declare and implement consistent policies because there are simply too many conventions and traditions that must be honored in the name of comfort and stability. When confronted with any inconsistencies, the natural response for a democratic government is to play dodge-ball, often frantically.

When Costa Rican government officials are asked about their positions on, say, micro-lending in Kosovo, the political fallout of almost any answer would be miniscule, if only because Costa Rica does not have significant political, economic or relational capital in Kosovo. In contrast, as a superpower, the United States has its hand in an infinite number of cookie jars, and inevitably that hand will get stuck. Not only are there more jars around the world in which America inserts itself, but there are more contraptions (money, pride, ideology, tradition) in those jars that can ensnare America’s hand, often over relatively minor concerns whose symbolism seems to take the shape of public policy.

The NATO intervention in Kosovo in 1999, the UN protectorate that followed, and the symbiotic push for Kosovo’s development and independence have left many scrambling either to bemoan or trivialize the impact that Kosovo’s status could have on the global order. Given that the intervention, protection and development of Kosovo have each defied convention in various ways, there has been no shortage of curiosity as to what message has been delivered (and to whom) by the heavy international involvement in Kosovo. But what precisely is that message? Who is supposed to hear it, and who is not? Which precedents actually pose a threat, and to whom? And finally, how might these concerns and their inherent inconsistencies translate into future foreign policy?

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Negotiations between Belgrade and Prishtina over the final status of Kosovo have officially failed, and Russia will veto any Western attempt at the UN Security Council to recognize the independence of this Serbian province populated by mostly ethnic Albanians.

At some point during the next three months, the United States and the European Union (EU) will give Kosovo the green light to unilaterally declare its independence.

But a few things must happen before then.

Next Steps for Kosovo

To avoid a repeat of the March 2004 riots, in which ethnic Albanians burned hundreds of Serbian homes and dozens of churches, NATO’s force in Kosovo will have to be certain that they have the right number of troops and that these troops are in all the right places.

The European Union also has to do some house-cleaning in anticipation of replacing the UN peacekeeping force (UNMIK) of roughly 2500 professionals. While nearly all the EU countries will recognize Kosovo’s independence, a handful of its 27 member-states have expressed understandable reluctance given their own internal secessionist conflicts. And while Kosovo’s independence would have greater legitimacy if endorsed by all the EU countries individually and collectively, a far more important European consensus concerns the continued political and economic development of this nominally Serbian province.

For the last eight years, Russia has consistently voted in the Security Council to renew the UN’s nation-building mandate in Kosovo under the condition that final status negotiations continue between Belgrade and Prishtina. If, however, Kosovo unilaterally declares independence, Moscow will likely veto any resolution that takes that independence for granted, including a renewed UN mandate. As a result, as soon as Kosovo declares, UNMIK will become obsolete, and a very large void must be filled very quickly.

Granted, the replacement of the UN’s crucial bureaucrats and peacekeepers by an EU contingent was an important part of UN Envoy Martti Ahtisaari’s popular plan for Kosovo’s phased and “supervised independence,” but Russia officially rejected this plan over the summer. Now the EU hopes to fill the void anyway, confident that it has found the least bad of all the options.
Cutting Russia Out

Intentional or not, this transition will effectively cut Russia out of every loop regarding the future of Kosovo as the EU and NATO become Kosovo’s sole protectors and developers. When the Russians are thrown out of a party, however, they have a knack for making the West regret the expulsion — whether in the Balkans, the Caucasus, Eastern Europe, or the Middle East.

For instance, when Washington scolds Moscow for being “unproductive” in dealing with the Iranian nuclear program, Moscow goes out of its way to provide nuclear fuel to Tehran. When Washington rewards the former Soviet Republic of Georgia for contributing 500 soldiers to the US mission in Iraq, Russian jets “accidentally” violate Georgian airspace. When Washington insists on Kosovo’s independence — regardless of UN approval — Moscow says it will recognize the pro-Russian secessionist provinces on its periphery, such as those in Moldova, Georgia, and Azerbaijan. Each gesture is a constant reminder that Moscow does not need the Soviet Union to be a major global player that demands and deserves attention.

In the Balkans specifically, Moscow is Belgrade’s backstop. The risks that Belgrade is willing to take are a direct reflection of Moscow’s encouragement or at least tacit approval. Rumors of a limited Russian military deployment to Serbia when Kosovo declares are beside the point; Belgrade can supplement its forces at the Kosovo border with thousands more, as long as it has Moscow’s consent and can credibly insist that such a supplement is merely to protect Serb refugees fleeing Kosovo. If this happens, the Kosovo police force, which has been trained and buffered by UNMIK, will be overwhelmed in the north and NATO forces will have to take up the slack, almost certainly at the expense of protecting Serbian enclaves deep inside Kosovo.

Cutting Russia Back In

There is no need to be alarmist about what Moscow is prepared to do to save face or pressure the West, if only because the Kremlin need not look far to apply some bland yet painful pressure on Western interests. And while there are no face-saving scenarios for both Moscow and Washington, there is still much to be negotiated between the two capitals in countless other arenas, which could limit the humiliation felt on either side.

First, only a few weeks ago, the Russian government suspended its participation in the Conventional Forces in Europe treaty (CFE), which publicly regulated and documented the nature and quantity of all conventional weapons stationed in NATO and formerly Soviet countries. With the treaty’s suspension, Washington must obtain its intelligence on Russia’s military activity elsewhere. There was a time when Moscow wisely put its eggs in many baskets in its “near abroad,” but now those baskets are joining NATO, and Moscow feels naked without them. So, Moscow wants its clothes back, and the United States wants its eyes and ears back.

Second, not only is NATO soliciting new members from Russia’s buffer zone, but the United States wants to install anti-missile and radar stations in the Czech Republic and Poland—weaponry potentially aimed at Russia, though Washington says the system is intended to protect Europe from Iran. The details to be negotiated regarding these instillations are innumerable, but the one that has been causing a stir recently is the presence of Russian observers on site to ensure that Moscow will not face its own Cuban missile crisis.

Third, and most topical, whether Tehran intends to resume its nuclear weapons program or not, Iran needs a powerful ally at the UN Security Council. Moscow wants to be that ally in order to ensure its expanding energy and arms markets in the Middle East and Central Asia, but also because — given the U.S./Iranian tensions — Tehran’s friendship or even dependency on Moscow would guarantee Russia’s relevance at any and every negotiating table for the next decade.

The United States should explore a trade with Russia. If Moscow renews the CFE treaty, Washington could abandon its missile defense initiatives in Eastern Europe. Kosovo will not become part of that equation because both sides are simply too invested in their preferred outcome for the province. But if the two superpowers are reaching agreement on overarching security matters, there will be greater likelihood that they will find a modus operandi on Kosovo. Both Russia and Kosovo want to be taken seriously, and that is within Washington’s capabilities.

Serbia, however, is a different matter.

Dealing with Belgrade

In the short-term, the one thing the West agrees on is that NATO should and will remain in Kosovo long after it declares independence. Fortunately, NATO’s capacity and preparation in Kosovo make a destabilizing eruption of violence unlikely in the short term.

But if violence does erupt, Belgrade is unlikely to throw the first punch, at least not conventionally. There are, however, a number of bargaining chips that Belgrade wields that cannot be dismissed. Most of Kosovo’s electricity and 70% of its consumer goods and construction materials either come from or through Serbia proper. If Serbia goes through with sanctions or a blockade, such actions will hurt it as much as Kosovo. But the power of spite should never be underestimated in separatist conflicts. Kosovar Albanians would certainly pay such a price if it meant achieving independence. But the United States and EU would be wise to privately offer Belgrade something in return for its minimal cooperation in keeping Kosovo stable until such a dependency can be shifted to neighboring Albania, Macedonia, and Montenegro.

EU membership is unquestionably the most powerful incentive for Belgrade to change course. Unfortunately, even the relatively moderate Serbian government (up for re-election in late January) has scoffed at the EU’s membership offers in return for its consent on Kosovo’s independence. However, once Serbia has shown its toughness by symbolically and politically standing up to the West — perhaps at its own expense — Belgrade will eventually want to negotiate its way into other international institutions on different terms and for explicitly non-Kosovo reasons.

In the meantime, it is unlikely that Kosovo’s declaration itself will inspire nearby separatists — whether Serbs in Bosnia or the Albanians in Macedonia or anywhere else — to unilaterally declare independence for their respective territories. Such an effort would be politically fruitless without either the international support that Kosovo enjoys or a war that engulfed the region and changed the rules of the game.

Fortunately, as long as NATO’s force in Kosovo has everything it asks for (and then some), such tempers can be cooled. And if Washington engages Moscow on larger security issues, Russia will be less likely to make a fuss. But either way, unless the EU is fully prepared to invest all its chips into Kosovo’s accelerated development, the West will be kicking this can down the road for many years to come.

[View this essay at Foreign Policy in Focus]

Transcript of my VOA interview, in Serbian.

The NATO intervention in the Serbian province of Kosovo in 1999, the UN protectorate that followed, and the symbiotic push for Kosovo’s development and independence have left many analysts and politicians scrambling either to bemoan or trivialize the impact that Kosovo’s final status could have on the global order.

With the looming Dec. 10 deadline for the latest round of negotiations, it seems exceedingly unlikely that Washington will be able to persuade Moscow to endorse Kosovo’s independence at the UN Security Council. Yet Kosovo’s frustrated Albanians, who make up more than 90 percent of the province’s population, have hinted that they are on the brink of declaring independence unilaterally, even if it means renewed conflict with Belgrade.

Ultimately, in our international system, a nation’s “independence” is little more than the rest of the world’s willingness to recognize it as independent. So, even if Moscow vetoes Kosovo’s bid for independence, Kosovo can still enjoy some of the benefits of being an independent country. These benefits become more substantial with every state that recognizes Kosovo. Similarly, the likelihood of renewed violence would decrease if other countries viewed Kosovo’s self-defense as legitimate.

This means, however, that because negotiations are likely to fail, Washington has been encouraging, and will continue to encourage, foreign governments to support a technically illegal, self-declared, independent Kosovo in the event that negotiations collapse. Yet this kind of persuasion does not come easily.

There are more than 50 separatist conflicts across the globe, and few of the governments that have endured the bane of irredentism will be eager to recognize Kosovo if such a precedent could come back to haunt them.

Echoing countless other US and European officials, Daniel Fried, the US assistant secretary of State for European and Eurasian Affairs, responded to such concerns in February with the following logic: “Kosovo is a unique situation because NATO was forced to intervene to stop and then reverse ethnic cleansing. The Security Council authorized Kosovo to be ruled effectively by the United Nations, not by Serbia. UN Council Resolution 1244 also stated that Kosovo’s final status would be the subject of negotiation. Those conditions do not pertain to any of the conflicts that are usually brought up in this context.”

Unfortunately, Washington’s “unique” talking points are actually engraving a separatist playbook in stone, blazing a glorious trail that separatists will follow with greater determination, recruits, and (in all likelihood) success.

Separatist regions like the Basque Country or Abkhazia might not resemble Kosovo right now – as Washington is quick to note – but by so explicitly stating the merits of Kosovar self-determination and independence, Washington is essentially creating an innovative code, only to make the cipher publicly available. Current and future separatists merely have to manufacture the same conditions and sequencing that have compelled the West to embrace an independent Kosovo: terrorize locals, invite government crackdowns, incite a rebellion, and lure in foreign intervention and commitment to rebuild.

Once militants get this far, Kosovo will no longer be unique – even by Washington’s peculiar standards – and areas that share Kosovo’s characteristics will be equally deserving of independence. The horrid irony, of course, is that declaring Kosovo’s uniqueness has been Washington’s deliberate attempt to prevent future separatism, but it is inadvertently teaching militants how to navigate the complex inconsistencies of geopolitics. In fact, the more thorough and persuasive Western governments are about Kosovo’s “uniqueness,” the more legitimate separatists’ ambitions become, if only they follow the Kosovo model.

Not only, then, has Washington had a hard time selling Kosovo’s independence to all but its closest allies, but the very basis for that appeal is even more threatening to governments that would face invigorated separatism in the wake of an independent Kosovo – even if that independence is informal and technically illegal.

With the “unique” endorsement, Washington and a few European capitals close even more rhetorical doors that they will need to slip through when the time comes to reject separatist analogies in the future, and our failure to anticipate these complicated roadblocks will cost our allies more than anyone else.

[View this Op-Ed at CS Monitor]

It seems only natural for minorities in the former Soviet Union to feel a constant pull towards separatism. Their national borders were drawn almost arbitrarily—often to encourage conflicts—and a nascent sense of self-determination that followed the end of Soviet communism certainly plays a role in the region’s separatism, even today. Georgians, in particular, have witnessed their share of nationalist struggles, together leaving thousands dead and hundreds of thousands homeless. In Georgia’s mostly Armenian region of Javakheti, however, the potential for conflict has always rested just beneath the surface, requiring a greater and untapped impetus to inspire rebellion.

As Georgia’s southernmost region, Javakheti shares not only a border with Armenia, but also a culture, religion, and language, as Javakheti is more than 90% Armenian. Despite being born in Georgia, few of these Armenians feel any allegiance to Georgia at all.  After all, Soviet leaders in the early 20th century relocated thousands of Armenian families to Georgia’s southern regions to provide a protective buffer between the Ottoman Empire and the rest of the Soviet Union.  Culturally, linguistically and politically, the Georgians in Javakheti are Armenian.

And while any unrest in Javakheti pales in comparison to the tension in Georgia’s authentic separatist regions—Abkhazia and South Ossetia—Javakheti has all the makings of a civil ethnic conflict. To start, the most common language in Javakheti is Armenian, and Georgian is not a required part of the local curriculum for the same reason that Russian is not a required part of the Georgian curriculum—both nations feel a burgeoning sense of pride and self-determination. Javakheti has a better relationship with Yerevan, Armenia’s capital, than it does with the Georgian capital, Tbilisi. The central government provides very little financial assistance to Javakheti, citing economic difficulties and limited resources, which inevitably leave the undeveloped region’s infrastructure in pieces and the people alienated.

Unlike in Abkhazia and South Ossetia—breakaway regions enjoying de-facto autonomy under Russian patronage—calls for secession or reunion with the “home country” have never been quite as loud in Javakheti, even though most of the unrest tethers to economic and cultural concerns—both typical catalysts for rebellion.

More specifically, Armenian political groups on both sides of the border continuously push Tbilisi to give the Armenian language equal official status to the Georgian tongue in the Javakheti region. Yet like most countries with a large ethnic majority, Georgia requires that its public schools teach the Georgian language and Georgian history above all others.  Yet Javakheti’s Armenians neither speak the Georgian language nor know its history.  With a population that is less then 10% ethnic Georgian, however, such a law could hardly be enforced, as the local bureaucracies and infrastructure are entirely sustained by Armenians who speak virtually no Georgian.  Making an immediate transition into Georgian is impossible, even assuming the Armenians wanted to abandon their cultural heritage.  Moreover, there is said to be implicit discrimination against the Armenian language in the region’s state-run offices.  According to the US State Department, Javakheti has a “relatively independent media,” but any news about Georgia is only available in the Armenian and Russian languages.  Nearly all of the news concerns Armenia and is in Armenian.

Individually and collectively, measures designed to integrate (or assimilate) a country’s diverse groups are prone to backfire.  As is the case in most separatist struggles, Tbilisi is trying to balance its policies in order to give its ethnic minorities just enough freedom to embrace their own cultures, but not so much freedom as to isolate these minorities even further.  Unfortunately, the best balance between these two goals is often a symbolically powerful law that is completely unenforceable, such as requiring a group to embrace another culture, and doing nothing to ensure such a transition.

Immediately following Georgia’s independence in the early 1990’s, Javakheti nearly became independent itself, due to Georgia’s inexperienced and weak central government.  Only in the last decade has Georgia tried to keep Javakheti on a tight (but inevitably long) leash, understanding that the language barrier is the primary wall to integration.  Without at least minimal assimilation, Javakh Armenians will continue to make additional demands for mandatory Armenian history curriculums in local schools, an end to the general “Georgianization” of Armenian culture and heritage, a Georgian minority rights law, the construction of a highway linking Javakheti to Yerevan (which Armenia will finance), and the recognition of Javakheti political movements pushing for the region’s political autonomy.

Russia and the Base

Perhaps the most important humanitarian concern for Armenians living in Javakheti is the Russian military base in Akhalkalaki, the region’s capital. After years of negotiations, Russia has agreed to withdraw from the base, which has been a crutch to Javakheti’s economy since its opening in the mid 1990’s when Georgia agreed to the Russian military presence in order to restabilize the recently independent country.  Employing more than a thousand mostly Armenian workers, upwards of 10,000 locals are dependent on a salary at the base. Moreover, the Russian soldiers consume a large portion of Javakheti’s produce—the region’s primary source of income. President Saakashvili has promised that the Georgian government will fill the void left by the Russian military, whose departure is a great cause for celebration in Tbilisi, despite years of protest by Armenians living both in Armenia and Javakheti. Specifically, Saakashvili proposed to use the produce consumed by Russian troops to feed Georgian troops instead, but many analysts have suggested that surplus produce will only be a part of the crisis when Russia pulls out.  According to official statistics, Javakheti produces 30 times more potatoes and 210 times more milk than the 20,000 soldiers in the Georgian army can consume.  Besides, inviting Georgian soldiers to Akhalkalaki is likely to serve as kindling to the tension.

Recognizing this, on April 29, President Saakashvili altered his remedy on a visit to Javakheti: “We’re not planning to set up a new military unit [there]. But we will offer those who serve on this base to join the Georgian armed forces in return for a higher pay. To those who turn down this proposal, we will offer a separate social-rehabilitation program, business [training]. These people must not feel they will lose out on the deal. On the contrary, they must benefit from the fact that Georgia is developing,” Saakashvili said.  Another solution, put forward recently by Georgian Parliamentary Speaker Nino Burjanadze is to open “food processing enterprises” in Akhalkalaki to create new jobs. The ethnic Armenians in Javakheti are understandably skeptical, as they have seldom seen Tbilisi offer either relief or solidarity (see TOL, “Never Again,” Feb.25, 2004).

For its part, Russia has its own ambitions in a Caucasus that has looked increasingly to the West to provide its necessary political and economic support. Armenia happily gives Moscow its desired influence in the southern Caucasus, in exchange for Russian protection from Armenia’s neighboring Muslim enemies (Turkey to the west and Azerbaijan to the east), both of which maintain strict blockades at their borders with Armenia. The dispute over Turkish responsibility for the deaths of more than one million Armenians during and after World War I has long frozen Armenian-Turkish relations. And Azerbaijan is no friendlier, having been humiliated by Russian-backed Armenia in the early 1990’s in the Nagorno-Karabakh war and forced to tolerate an island of Armenian-dominated land in the middle of Azerbaijan. Ever since, Azerbaijan has been pining to retake Nagorno-Karabakh using sophisticated weapons purchased with its windfall of petrodollars.

Yet regardless of any real or exaggerated threat to Armenia, Russia has always been eager to manipulate the region’s conflicts—much to Tbilisi’s fury—in Abkhazia, South Ossetia and Nagorno-Karabakh, and there is little reason to think that Russia would not similarly arm Javakheti separatists, were it ever so inclined.  In fact, for years Tbilisi has accused Russia of colluding and inciting conflict in Javakheti, most recently in early March when protesters insisted that the violent death of a Javakh Armenian was ethnically motivated.

As Georgian MPs often do, Parliament Speaker Nino Burjanadze suggested that the protests and general unrest can be attributed to “serious external forces, who try to trigger destabilization in this region”—a coded punch at Russia for its military presence in Akhalkalaki.  In fact, according to some Tbilisi officials, weapons belonging to Parvents, a Javakh paramilitary group, once belonged to the Russian base in Akhalkalaki, and were used in the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict.  Naturally, Russia continues to deny this, and as recently as April 26, Georgia’s own Interior Minister, Vano Merabishvili, said Moscow has had nothing to do with the recent unrest in Javakheti, despite Russia’s regional interests.

Granted, if Russia ever did fully arm and promote Javakheti’s separatists, Yerevan would have to agree to it, and Armenia feels isolated enough as it is without angering Georgia. Blockaded from both sides, Armenia must rely on its northern border with Georgia and southern border with Iran for all the nation’s international interests. So Yerevan cannot afford to be blockaded by Georgia, whatever Russia’s regional ambitions might be.  For this reason is most pan-Armenian solidarity limited in Javakheti, despite a rather convincing pro-Javakh lobby in Armenia.

The Mouthpiece

Much of the protests over Tbilisi’s poor treatment of its Armenian citizens actually come from political parties in the Armenian ruling coalition government, which have a greater capacity for political mudslinging than their relatively disorganized and inexperienced Javakh counterparts. One party, “Zor Airenik” (Mighty Homeland) was even formed by natives of Javakheti who now live in Armenia (there are more than 100,000 such emigrants, most of whom left for economic reasons). And other parties such as the “Nor Serund” (New Generation), the Armenian Democratic-Liberal Union, and the Ramkavar Azatakan Party all have similar agendas to ensure the safety of the Armenians in Javakheti living in fear of ethnically motivated harassment and violence. Nearly all of these Armenian political parties argue that increased political autonomy and self-governance in Javakheti are warranted given Javakheti’s ostracized culture and security concerns.

These moderate parties often call on the Saakashvili regime to pay more attention to the needs of Javakheti and its residents, while seldom encouraging the outright secession of Javakheti. Even still, calling for mere “political autonomy” was deemed separatist enough for Tbilisi to prohibit “Virk,” a local political movement in Javakheti, from registering as a political party in July 2002.  In fact, this is why most ethnic Armenians who run for Georgia’s Parliament do so under a mainstream party—like Saakashvili’s National Movement Party—while it is no secret that they represent Georgia’s ethnic Armenian population.

Nevertheless, despite being elected by Georgia’s Armenian population, a handful of MPs—among them Van Baiburt, a native of Javakheti—is often criticized for not fighting hard enough for Javakheti’s interests.  On March 16, Baiburt controversially said that “the Georgian authorities are not imposing any restrictions on Georgia’s Armenian population,” and went on to say “the government has agreed to allow official business to be conducted in Armenian in the area” because Tbilisi understands that it is “unreasonable” to expect and demand that Armenians suddenly speak Georgian.  And in any case, he noted, it is “unrealistic” for Javakheti’s civil society to demand a heightened status for the Armenian language in Javakheti.

In an October 2005 interview, Baiburt even indicated that he believed Russia and Armenian radicals are to blame for Javakheti’s dangerous separatist leanings.  Unsurprisingly, then, Javakheti’s moderate politicians—and certainly the radical ones—feel abandoned by MPs like Baiburt and have called him “a puppet in the hands of some dark forces.”  As a result, Javakh Armenians feel they must look for help from Armenia and, to a lesser extant, Javakheti’s local government and civil society.

In response, the Georgian government and media often paints Javakheti’s civil society as as instigating separatist and anti-Tbilisi sentiment in the region, and use this as a basis for keeping these “movements” from becoming recognized political parties.  While Virk’s political ambition has received the most attention, other local civic organizations—like the “United Javakh-Democratic Alliance” (a union of 8 youth organizations) and “Javak”, another group also pushing for political autonomy—are encountering equal resistance for allegedly instigating violence.  Virk leader David Rstakian, however, attributes the relative calm in Javakheti (compared to South Ossetia and Abkhazia) to the restraint of these demonized groups, which he says actually prevent Armenian protests from escalating into outright separatism.  In the past, Rstakian has also insisted that outright secession or reunion with Armenia is not necessary to ensure the safety and prosperity of the Javakh people—that only an

administrative-territorial unit within Georgia [is] required in order to have Armenian schools and have conditions which would be conducive to pursuing the Armenian way of life.  Georgia is a member of the UN and therefore the same standards of the protection of national minorities must be observed here as are accepted by other democratic nations… We do not oppose Georgia’s political system [and] we do not call for war or strife… but sooner or later, Georgia will have to agree to a federative structure.

In contrast, however, Vahan Chakhalian, leader of the United Javakh-Democratic Alliance has said that the Russian withdrawal leaves local Armenians defenseless, and that United Javakh would therefore retaliate if Georgian troops tried to take their place—regardless of whether they came to relieve the farmers of their surplus produce. Starkly, such declarations are eerily similar to those put forward by Abkhazian and South Ossetian separatists in the early 1990’s, immediately preceding two very bloody conflicts, which have yet to be resolved.

Likewise, “Dashnaktsutiun,” a radical century-old political party in Armenia’s ruling parliamentary coalition, often reacts to Tbilisi’s policies in Javakheti by issuing heated press releases—even warning that discriminatory policies in Javakheti give the people “no other choice than the use of force to protect their interests and dignity.”  It is worth noting, however, that Dashnaktsutiun seldom wins more than a handful of Armenia’s 131 parliament seats, and frequently threatens to leave the coalition for varying reasons.

So far, the bulk of the political parties and movements in Javakheti are not, in fact, pushing for violent resistance, but they are pushing for cultural and political autonomy, if not outright secession and reunification with Armenia.  But Javakh Armenians may not need much saber rattling to push them over the edge, as events in the last year illustrate.

Approaching the Threshold

For instance, in March 2005, 6000 Javakh Armenians rallied in Akhalkalaki to protest a resolution in the Georgian Parliament that called for the withdrawal of the city’s Russian base and used the occasion to protest against their many other grievances.

In July 2005, Javakh Armenians from the city of Samsar refused to allow a group of students and nuns from Tbilisi to restore a nearby church dating back to the 12th century.  After accusing the nuns and students of trying to “Georgianize” the Armenian Church and culture, the argument quickly turned physical and left a number of people severely injured.  That same day, in Akhalkalaki, a group of Javakh Armenians and Greeks raided a Georgian school for similar reasons.

In October 2005, Tbilisi tax officials closed 10 small shops owned by ethnic Armenians in Akhalkalaki for financial irregularities, which prompted protests by hundreds in front of the district’s state administration building.  Local police tried to disband the protesters with rubber truncheons and by firing gunshots into the air, injuring many protesters.

And more recently, on March 9, an ethnic Armenian was killed in a bar fight in Tsalka, a city in Javakheti’s neighboring region of Kvemo-Kartli; soon afterwards, hundreds of ethnic Armenians protested the man’s death, claiming he was targeted in Georgia’s natural “climate of ethnic intolerance.” The Tsalka jail holding the suspected killers were soon surrounded by protesters calling for swift justice.

And only two days later, ethnic Armenians gathered nearby in Akhalkalaki to protest the dismissal of ethnic Armenian judges, who (Armenians believe) were fired for not knowing and using the Georgian language in court.   To reinforce the now-frequent demand that the Armenian tongue be made officially equal in status to Georgian, the Akhalkalaki protesters raided a local court chamber, ousted a Georgian judge, and then stormed both a Georgian Orthodox Church and the local branch of Tbilisi State University. United Javakh issued a statement that described the dismissal of the Armenian judges as “cynically trampling on the rights of the Armenian-populated region.” More broadly, the statement warned that the “destructive trends in the Georgian government’s policy” illustrated Tbilisi’s desire to “crush the will of Javakh’s Armenian population to protect its right to live in its motherland.”

To ease the tension, however, a Georgian ombudsman quickly ruled that the bar fight was merely a “communal crime,” not ethnically motivated; and likewise, Georgian officials continue to maintain that the judges were fired for misconduct, not for anything having to do with their ethnicity or ignorance of Georgian.  Nevertheless, Tbilisi has appointed a number of judges in Javakheti who only speak Georgian and must use translators to conduct judicial proceedings, much to the frustration of local Armenians, who dismiss this practice as Georgian cultural imperialism.

In the last two months, Javakhetians have held a number of rallies—both organized and spontaneous—which have protested and physically blockaded the Russian military withdrawal.  Eager to facilitate the withdrawal of the Russian troops, Georgian President Saakashvili on April 28 asked his Armenian counterpart, Robert Kocharyan, to help ease the tension in Javakheti.  According to a source in the Saakashvili Administration, the Georgian leader argued that Moscow is trying to make its withdrawal from Akhalkalaki as painful as possible for Georgia, by subtly manipulating the ripe civil tension within the isolated region.

Meeting Halfway?

While visiting Javakheti on April 19 and again on April 29, President Saakashvili pledged to put an end to Javakheti’s isolation in Georgia, beginning with the construction of roads in the region—including one from Akhalkalaki to Akhaltsikhe (the capital of neighboring region of Samtskhe) and another road connecting Akhalkalaki to Tbilisi. Funded by the U.S. Millennium Challenge Account, these infrastructural developments, Saakashvili added, “mean that Javakheti’s geographical isolation from the rest of Georgia will end once and for all; this means that local peasants will be able to freely export their products from here; this means that more businesses will come here; this means that more transit will take place here…. Roads and development—these are what Javakheti needs now.”

With policies like these, it seems that Tbilisi is hoping to recruit friendly Javakh Armenians by encouraging interaction between Georgia’s diverse ethnicities.  More transit means more cooperation, which brings interdependence and perhaps enough assimilation to quell separatist rhetoric and ambitions.

In fact, if national policies like these actually come to fruition, they could help integrate and intertwine the Georgian and Armenian communities through significant economic and humanitarian gains. But these are not the gains that the Armenians insist they need most: for instance, Javakheti will get an important highway, but it traverses the 300 km to Tbilisi, not Yerevan.

Tbilisi refuses to give Javakheti a broader self-governance or autonomy package because such policies are, in fact, just as likely to isolate Javakheti. Worse still, loosening the leash might set a dangerous precedent for successful separatism. So it seems, then, that the politicians have no choice but to return to the scales and reset the balance for another day of gambling, perhaps hoping simply to merely break even.

[View this Report at TOL]

While Georgia and Russia focus their efforts on addressing the potential for renewed conflict in South Ossetia, a series of provocative events and statements coming from Abkhazia should not be overlooked.  In fact, a number of mixed messages from Abkhazia are ripening the region’s political environment for advances toward peace.  Unfortunately, Tbilisi might be too preoccupied or temperamental to take notice.

For more than a decade, Abkhazia has been siphoning resources and support from Russia for no other reason than because Russia continues to offer them.  Ethnic Abkhazians have no more allegiance to Russia than they do to Georgia; after all, Abkhazia was also subject to the iron fist of Soviet rule.  Yet after breaking off from the rest of Georgia, Abkhazia desperately needed a pillar to rest on, and Russia provided that—again, not out of loyalty to Abkhazians, but merely to maintain its influence in the rapidly westernizing south Caucasus and Black Sea region.

Since then, officials in Sokhumi, the Abkhaz capital, have been juggling various agendas and realities by filtering them through a unique public relations paradigm.  In the long term, by nearly every calculation, it is very much in Abkhazia’s interest to reintegrate with Georgia, rather than reintegrate with Russia or become independent.  With Russia straying further from democratic norms, the colossus would only swallow and assimilate Abkhazia, much like it did to a number of Russian states just north of Abkhazia.  Georgia, on the other hand, is on a direct (albeit slow) path toward westernization, with all the economic and political benefits that accompany such a transition.

Sokhumi knows this, and in particular Sergei Bagapsh, the unrecognized Abkhazian president, sees that a healthy revival of his nation’s economy is tied to its reintegration with Georgia.  As a result, Bagapsh wants to be courted by eager Georgian officials to get as much as he can for his constituency.  Specifically, Bagapsh knows he has no bargaining power (in Tbilisi) without Russian backing, but Moscow would never support a regime intent on abandoning it for negotiations in Tbilisi.  As a result, Abkhazian officials have to express loyalty to both Russia and Georgia, but each in a different way.

Consider that in various interviews, Sergei Bagapsh threatened that Abkhazians would defend South Ossetia (Georgia’s other separatist region) if the nation was provoked.  He has also said that some of Georgia’s recent behavior amounts to “pure terrorism”, and warned that Abkhazia would defend its own borders if its Russian peacekeepers ever withdrew.  As if to prepare for such a scenario, it was quickly announced that more than 4000 Abkhazian reservists are to be called up by Sokhumi for a three-day training exercise on March 21—joined by two motor-rifle brigades, the air force, artillery and other special units.

Yet in other recent interviews, Bagapsh indicated that Tbilisi could lure Abkhazia back to the republic with Georgia’s “economy and wisdom, [not its] rattling swords.”  And unlike nearly all of his official Russian and Ossetian counterparts, Bagapsh even said he was confident that the conflicts in Georgia would not escalate.

Amidst these same developments, Abkhazia is making significant improvements to its infrastructure.  Free public transportation now connects the Gali region (on the Abkhaz side) with Zugdidi (on the Georgian side); after 13 years of darkness, four regions of Abkhazia are now powered by the recently renovated Adzyubzha substation; and an agreement was just reached on the rebuilding of the railway systems linking Russia with the Caucasus, through Abkhazia.  At the power plant’s reopening, Bagapsh said he was certain other Abkhaz assets would be renovated and that “more labor resources should be involved in the energy sector.”

One of Russia’s greatest assets in the region has been Abkhazia’s function as a mostly depopulated, undeveloped and isolated buffer between Russia and the south Caucasus.  So any substantive economic development in Abkhazia threatens Russia’s regional control.  Moscow, however, can tolerate these improvements, provided that Abkhazia continues to provide Russia with the most important kind of loyalty in Moscow’s lexicon: loud threats of violence against Georgia.  As a result, Abkhazian officials are quietly improving their state’s economy and infrastructure, hoping later to have enough bargaining power on its own that it will not need Russia to survive, or even thrive.  Only then would Sokhumi consider reintegrating with Georgia; but in the meantime, Abkhaz officials are barking at Georgia as loud as they can.

Quite remarkably, this strategy is working.  Bagapsh’s military threats against Tbilisi made great headlines throughout the Georgian and Russian media, while improvements in Abkhazia were hardly noticed.  In other words, Bagapsh’s military threats reassure Moscow, and his talk of the Georgian economy reassures Tbilisi.  Except Georgian officials are not getting this message; they only hear the threats.

The fact that Sokhumi is even mentioning a potential reintegration with Georgia is quite significant, if only because, in contrast, South Ossetian officials are explicitly demanding reintegration with Russia.  What’s more, Abkhazia is Moscow’s love-child—a tropical paradise and geopolitical asset to Russia’s regional influence.  And yet Bagapsh is still receiving Russian praise and official summons to visit the Kremlin, despite his subtle hints—through word and gesture—to Georgia.

In comparison, Moscow views South Ossetia as merely a useful thorn in Tbilisi’s side, something to keep Georgian officials busy and hamper their strides toward NATO and eventually EU membership.  Unlike Sokhumi’s balanced messages, South Ossetian officials are not showing any kind of loyalty to Georgia or its ideals.  More importantly, Abkhazia’s improving infrastructure—coupled with Bagapsh’s simultaneous statements about Georgia’s own potential for economic development—illustrate an opportunity (perhaps even an invitation) for Tbilisi to harness Abkhazia’s progressive momentum.

Tbilisi’s ability to entice Sokhumi (as Bagapsh indicated) is dependent on Georgia’s overall influence in Abkhazia, which becomes both cheap and easy as Abkhazia returns from its decade-long, incommunicado blackout.  Yet Georgian officials for years have continued an economic blockade on the Abkhaz border with Georgia, as a superficial expression of Georgia’s anger at the unruly breakaway province.  In the information age, however, blockading Abkhazia becomes less valuable and more detrimental to Georgia’s goals with every passing week.

With more electricity and transportation, Abkhazians could watch more televisions, listen to more radios, buy more western products and embrace more tenets of western culture.  For many societies this is not the case, but unlike Fidel Castro’s Cuba, for instance, Abkhazia is already showing a preference for western values and development—and without ever having been pummeled with liberal propaganda.  Compared to Russia, Georgia is in a much better position to encourage both Abkhazian development and culture simultaneously; they merely need to discover this for themselves.

If Georgia provides the television and radio programs, and minimizes the difficulties for Georgia-Abkhaz commercial ventures, Georgia can imprint on the Abkhaz consciousness a direct association between prosperity and western values.  But the longer Georgia waits, the weaker this association will be; and by the time Tbilisi finally opens the border, Abkhazia will have already developed its palate for the practice of independence, and not just its principles.

Georgian officials have made it clear that they neither support nor trust Russia’s military peacekeeping force in South Ossetia. But what are the alternatives to this presence? Georgian ministers and members of parliament have advocated two different alternatives. Both assume that the Russians will abandon their interests in South Ossetia, and both invite more questions than answers.

The first alternative to the current, mostly Russian Joint Peacekeeping Force (JPKF) is an international peacekeeping force (PKF), perhaps led by the United Nations, the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), or the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). On such an international force, the number of Georgian and Russian soldiers is unlikely to be greater than that on any other PKF in the world.

Georgian officials know, however, that they are not likely to be offered a truly international peacekeeping force. PKFs from the United Nations and the OSCE are dead ends for achieving Georgian goals in South Ossetia because Russia retains veto power in both organizations. NATO might offer an outlet, but only if the conflict seriously escalates to the level of Kosovo in 1999.

Even if NATO offered its services, the organization might then recommend independence for South Ossetians as soon as its peacekeeping mission is over. As a delegated international arbiter, NATO would take the reins out of Russia’s hands, but it could decide (much as in Kosovo’s case) that Tskhinvali belongs to North Ossetia, or belongs to no one.

The second alternative is a contingent of Georgian soldiers and forces from countries who are allies with Georgia which will keep the peace and implement the policies that Russia was either too incompetent or deceitful to see through. In such a scenario, Georgia would likely seek help from post-Soviet allies like Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Azerbaijan or Latvia.

The second alternative may work more smoothly for Georgia retaining some control in South Ossetia, but it is by far the more dangerous of the two. Although Georgia’s complaints about the performance of Russian peacekeepers in South Ossetia are justifiable, Tbilisi hopes to replace the Russian peacekeepers with Georgian soldiers whose bias about the conflict will be just as strong.

Just as Moscow did, Tbilisi would likely include a token number of foreign soldiers (maybe even a few Russians) to create the appearance of an international PKF. But the Georgian military – headed by Defense Minister Irakli Okruashvili, a native of the South Ossetian capital of Tskhinvali — would retain control over the mission. Most Georgians cannot conceive that their soldiers would behave like the Russians in South Ossetia, but Georgians have too large a stake in this conflict to serve as disinterested peacekeepers.

Protective measures against harassment and ill treatment would have to be designed for the 45,000 ethnic Ossetians, who welcomed-Russian offers of citizenship. Otherwise, ethnic Georgians living in South Ossetia (who for years have been harassed by all of South Ossetia’s de facto administrations and militias) could well take their revenge.

In this alternative, the OSCE has also – perhaps, unwittingly – played a role.

The OSCE is known for its support of Georgia’s territorial integrity and affirmed this support when it recognized parliament’s “sovereign right . . . to pass a resolution on peacekeeping operations in Georgia.” Yet more telling was US Ambassador Julie Finley’s recommended alternative to the Russian peacekeepers: “We call on Georgia to contribute its full complement of forces to maintain the proper balance within the JPKF.”

Instead of simply supporting a “peaceful resolution” through the vague “process of demilitarization,” the OSCE claims that in case of a Russian withdrawal, a group of Georgian soldiers would be best suited for a South Ossetia PKF.

Moscow, though, is in no position to label a potential Georgian PKF as biased, because this would be akin to admitting its own peacekeepers’ natural biases, as well. And to date, the Russian government has had nothing but praise for its JPKF in South Ossetia.

To get what it wants, Georgia needs tremendous international support, and that will only come as Russia becomes more aggressive, which, in turn, depends on Georgia’s ability to paint the Russians as the “bad guys.”

This extremely dangerous game requires Georgian leaders to provoke Russia, then retreat; provoke again, then retreat again, hoping that Russia will make the temperamental mistake of biting the hook while Georgia is actually retreating, as this would illustrate to the West that Georgia has become the victim of Russian neo-imperialism.

Nonetheless, Georgian leaders know that their nation can never fight Russia by conventional means to recapture South Ossetia. The Georgian parliament’s February 15 resolution wisely makes no reference to a timetable for the withdrawal of the Russian JPKF, as Tbilisi has learned that Moscow seldom backs down from a confrontation if the only alternative is to retreat with its tail tucked between its legs. [For details, see the EurasiaNet archive]. Ultimately, Tbilisi’s drastic attempts to manipulate its environment will only bring more danger to South Ossetians.

[View this Op-Ed at EurasiaNet]