(Note from zemeunvalsts.lv)

Written two years ago, this article remains just as relevant, if not more so. A series of nuances that are not discussed or analysed loudly enough following the Russian aggression are crucial to the context: namely, how it happened that so many political scientists, commentators, analysts, thinkers, etc., were so significantly mistaken in their assessments and forecasts – and why leaders of countries geographically further from Russia conspicuously and diligently pretended not to notice the warnings from Central and Northern European countries regarding their aggressive neighbour. This is worth thinking about very carefully.

Western attempts to ignore reality and imagine Moscovia as European have always ended in a fiasco

Russia cannot be grasped by the mind,
Common measures and scales do not apply here
Fyodor Tyutchev (1866)

No generation has ever learned from the mistakes of previous generations. In their interactions since contact first began in the 16th century, Europe and Russia have continued to step on the same 'rakes', always hoping anew – if the rake is painted a different colour, the result will be different.

The Tsardom of Muscovy, or Moscovia, and its modern-day successor Russia, have always been characterised by unpredictability; they have known how to fall out with every neighbour and have managed without long-term allies. This confused the world in the past and confuses it now: Russia, although peculiar, is still supposedly a European country, yet suddenly the carefully constructed house of cards of international relations collapses, and a demarche comes from Moscow that the West could not have even imagined in its dreams. The astonishment of Europeans is as genuine as that of a small child seeing soap bubbles for the first time, because they have ignored those aspects of Moscow's politics that did not coincide with their notions of how things should be, and this has been the case for the last 500 years.

Everything new is well-forgotten old

In the spring of 2014, Russia annexed the Ukrainian territory of the Crimean Peninsula, after which a large-scale, armed 'uprising' began in Ukraine's eastern regions, during which unknown, perfectly armed and organised military units very quickly took power into their own hands. It was all presented as a 'people's uprising'. However, in principle, state power is capable of suppressing any separatist rebellion, provided that a hostile state does not assist them from the outside. The 'people' turned out to be armed not with scythes and axes or hunting rifles pulled from a backyard shed, but with thoroughly modern weapons and dressed in Russian army uniforms without insignia.

As an international scandal began, the Kremlin denied any allegations that it had brought its troops into Ukrainian territory – claiming that hostilities were being carried out by local separatists using their own forces. Moscow rejected all evidence of a Russian military presence in Ukraine as empty inventions. In March of that same year, Russian President Vladimir Putin announced at a press conference: anyone can buy uniforms at a hunting and fishing shop, the captured Russian soldiers had long since been discharged, and spy satellite 'blurry pictures' proved nothing. Western diplomats had no answer for such things.

It went exactly the same way 100 years ago, on 6 January 1919, for the head of the Provisional Government of Ukraine, Volodymyr Chekhivsky, when he received a note from the People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs of Soviet Russia, Georgy Chicherin: 'We have received your radiograms of 31 December and 2 and 4 January. (..) There is no Russian Soviet Socialist Republic army in Ukraine. Hostilities there are taking place between the Directory's troops and the forces of the Ukrainian Soviet government, which are completely independent. There are no armed clashes between Ukraine and Soviet Russia at this moment.'

A similar situation was experienced on 4 December 1939 by the second Secretary-General of the League of Nations, Joseph Avenol, when he received a reply from USSR Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov stating that there was no need to internationally discuss the 'Finnish question' because it did not even exist – the USSR was not in a state of war with Finland, but only brotherly helping the Finnish Democratic Republic in a civil war.

Looking at history, it is understandable that the denial of the obvious is by no means a coincidence, but a cultivated and traditional diplomatic practice, the roots of which can be found in an even more distant past. An identical interpretation of foreign policy conflicts can be found at the very origins of the Muscovite state.

I will refer to the 1566 ceasefire negotiations between the representatives of the Muscovite Tsar Ivan IV and the embassy of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. The Lithuanian nobles almost had a stroke when the Muscovite boyars announced that peace and the status quo could not be restored because Livonia had long belonged to Moscow as its 'ancestral heritage', and that the Lithuanians had invaded ancient 'Rus land'. Voivode Jerzy Tyszkiewicz, in his indignation, forgot all diplomatic courtesy and shouted: 'No one has ever heard that the land of Livonia belonged to the Muscovites, so it is improper for their ruler to call Livonia his own! It means nothing that previous [Russian rulers] went to Livonia to wage war! After all, the Tatars also went to Moscovia to wage war, which we can read in all the chronicles – so now they would be entitled to call Moscow their ancestral share?!' To this, the Muscovite representative Zaitsev calmly replied: 'We have never heard that the Tatars came to Moscow to wage war, and nothing of the sort is written down anywhere, but you can write whatever you wish in your chronicles.'

It is clear that Zaitsev was lying deliberately. The Muscovite Grand Duchy actively used the 'Tatar yoke' discourse to justify the conquest of Kazan and Astrakhan, but the denial of the obvious and self-evident left the Lithuanians without counter-arguments, and the battlefield remained in the hands of the Muscovites. Moreover, the Muscovites themselves did not consider themselves to be lying – it was their view, which helped defend the 'right' position, and therefore was true.

The lure of the Eastern market

Since the inclusion of the Eastern Baltic in the European civilisational sphere in the 13th century, Europeans communicated with the Western Russian lands of Pskov, Polotsk, and Novgorod in mutually understandable channels. They traded, argued over territories, occasionally went to war, then concluded peace and traded again, as is usual in border zones. The 'courts' (trading quarters/factories) of the Old Russian land merchants were located in the major cities of Livonia, while the 'courts' of the Hanseatic League were in Pskov and Novgorod; many merchant clans were even related to each other. There were periods of peace and military clashes, but all parties involved knew what to expect from the others. Both the military potential of Livonia and the Old Russian lands was oriented towards minor border skirmishes, not anticipating larger-scale warfare or the conquest of neighbouring lands. The situation changed quite significantly at the end of the 15th century with the beginning of the expansion of the Grand Duchy of Moscow.

In the mid-1470s, Pskov came under the dependency of the Grand Duchy of Moscow, and its interference changed the balance of power and relations in the region. A series of wars began, which in Russian historiography is accepted to be called the Livonian War, although it would be more accurate to speak of the Livonian wars. In 1478, Muscovite troops heading to war against Novgorod also devastated the border of the Bishopric of Dorpat on their way. At that time, the Livonians did not pay much attention to yet another border dispute, being busy with internal conflicts. Novgorod fallen? Nothing to it. The rulers of the land change, but they all need the income from trade. The delegations from Reval and Dorpat even turned to the Grand Prince and asked him not to hinder trade in the event of war – let the land rulers defend their own borders.

The request did not correspond to the Muscovite notions of the world order: if a Livonian city does not submit to its land ruler, then it must submit to another, because the Muscovites simply did not understand the concept of city autonomy. Moscow began to demand something previously unheard of from the Livonian envoys, namely, to 'humbly beg' (literally 'to strike the forehead [against the ground]' — бить челом). In diplomatic language, this meant one thing: to acknowledge their vassalage and subordinate status. For the sake of profit, merchants of Livonian cities threw themselves to their knees, not thinking about what it meant to the other side of the negotiations. They did not even suspect that as early as 1489 in Vienna, the Grand Prince's envoy would announce as a matter of course: 'The Germans of the Livonian lands are subjects of our ruler.' And from the Moscow point of view, it was the truth – the Livonians had thrown themselves on their knees and struck their foreheads against the floor.

The new trade and peace treaty between the Livonian lands and Novgorod was signed in 1487, only seemingly confirming the already traditional order. The generally accepted phrase that the order accepted 'since ancient times' must be observed by both sides disappeared from the document. Moreover, the governor of the Grand Prince of Moscow refused to take an oath and kiss the cross at the moment of signing the treaty, entrusting this act of ratification to the Novgorod boyars and merchant representatives. The hint was unmistakable: such a treaty is not binding for the Grand Prince, and it will be observed only as long as it is profitable.

The sweetness of the victory celebrated at the meeting of Hanseatic cities was significantly spoiled by the news that a couple of months after its signing, the Grand Prince had expelled all merchants and boyars with their families from Novgorod, sending his own people in their place, who were now to engage in trade. This meant the destruction of the structures of close relations built over decades. A new broom truly swept differently: the people of the Grand Prince's administration actively began to interfere in trade operations, dictate their own terms, supervise and punish, change measures, and unpredictably increase customs duties. Almost every month, complaints about various violations and humiliations arrived from the Hanseatic court in Novgorod. Meanwhile, the Muscovites themselves did not consider themselves to have behaved impolitely – the mere fact that blood was not shed to show the 'Latins' their place was already a very great kindness.

The wishes of the Hanseatic and Livonian cities were rarely heard at the court of the Grand Prince of Moscow, and the Grand Prince rarely received envoys, entrusting the conduct of negotiations to his governors, occasionally breaking the reached agreements with the explanation that the governor had not understood the ruler's will. Occasionally, a merchant was thrown into a casemate in chains for a fabricated reason and released only after a ransom was paid; from time to time, mail riders and servants 'disappeared', and for those searching for them, the Muscovite authorities answered that such had not been seen. Even envoys in Moscow were not untouchable.

In the autumn of 1494, envoys from the Livonian cities, as soon as they had crossed the border, were required in Ivangorod to pay six Rhenish guilders; then the embassy had to wait three weeks for a travel permit, although envoys were not supposed to be delayed in this way. After the governors were gifted, the documents for travel were issued, but they demanded payment of nine Hungarian guilders and 27 silver marks for them and took all the embassy's papers. Having arrived in Moscow, the embassy waited two weeks to be received by Grand Prince Ivan III. The embassy's interpreter was arrested, and therefore the envoys could not address the ruler orally.

After very difficult negotiations, the embassy was detained for ten days without explanation. Then the envoys were summoned to the Grand Prince and told that a complaint had been received from two Greek merchants about injustices in Reval, therefore the embassy had to pay compensation – 360 Hungarian guilders, otherwise everyone would be put in chains and imprisoned. Of course, no one had such money, as everything had been spent on the unexpectedly prolonged journey and unexpected expenses. When the envoys managed to borrow money from European artisans living in Moscow, the Kremlin representatives were very annoyed and now demanded 429 guilders. The money was paid, the embassy set off on its way home, but was arrested near Bronnitsy, taken to Novgorod, and imprisoned for three weeks. All the merchants of the Hanseatic court were already there – the factory had been closed, and goods and funds had been confiscated. The envoys were now ordered to pay 900 Novgorod rubles for 'injustices' that had supposedly occurred in Livonia. There were so many such cases that a whole monograph could be devoted to them alone.

Policy changed according to Moscow's interests in Europe – when it wanted something from the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, the pressure on merchants decreased, and vice versa. Gradually, many Livonians came to the conclusion that Moscow's promises and treaties could not be relied upon. Those living in the tradition of Roman law found it very difficult to accept that for the Muscovites, a treaty was only a symbol of good relations. If relations turn sour, then the treaty is just a piece of written parchment, while good relations can only be maintained if the weaker party yields to the stronger.

Moscovia's geopolitical doctrine

Historian Alexander Filyushkin writes in his monograph 'Inventing the First War Between Europe and Russia' about how an ideological paradigm was formed and strengthened in Moscow in the 16th century: formerly there existed a united 'Rus land', then it split, and the historical mission of Moscow as its successor is to restore it. Therefore, the conquest of foreign lands is not any conquest, but the 'unification of one's ancestral lands' within the borders established by God. Moreover, Providence had marked these borders as quite amorphous, encompassing a huge territory from the Baltic Sea in the west to the Black Sea in the south and the Volga in the east – all of it being 'Russian land' (русская земля), even if the peoples and tribes inhabiting it do not even suspect it.

The thesis that all Old Slavic lands are the 'ancestral share' of the Grand Princes of Moscow appears in diplomatic discourse for the first time in 1503, but the claims to 'unify' them – in 1536. For the seizure of every foreign land, its own moral justification was created: the Kazan Khanate was an 'ulcer on the Russian lands', the Astrakhan Khanate was declared to be the ancient 'Russian Principality of Tmutarakan', Livonia was an ancient Old Russian land, which was created by Grand Prince Yaroslav the Wise, the Lithuanian, Belarusian, and Ukrainian lands had to be liberated because 'the king had unjustly taken them', and so on. A simple explanation was created as to why these lands were not yet under Moscow's control – their inhabitants were 'traitors'. Consequently, 'we never attack', but as soon as we are able, we 'punish' the traitors, and punishing is a priori just.

By around 1560, the Moscow foreign policy model had been honed to perfection: the Tsar appoints a person desired by him to the throne of a foreign country, based on the 'request' of that land's inhabitants, but if the ungrateful subjects nevertheless treacherously overthrow the appointee, he is forced to punish them by sending troops. The military campaign against neighbours is not to conquer their land, but to punish them for their evil actions or to preventatively forestall malice. Despite the God-delegated right of the Muscovite ruler to maintain the world order (a concept borrowed from the Mongol Empire), this has not yet quite succeeded only because Moscovia is surrounded on all sides by opponents (супостаты).

The Muscovites were holily convinced that they truly were attacking no one, but were forced to constantly defend themselves from the machinations of ill-wishing opponents. The inhabitants of any land were also entitled to show initiative themselves, asking to be taken under Moscow's protection – it was never refused, and so the Muscovite state rapidly expanded. If one had tried to tell a scribe of the ambassadorial chamber, a voivode, or even a simple streltsy in the 16th century that it was actually aggressive expansion, they simply would not have understood. And there is a suspicion that even today Russian politicians do not understand: what is it exactly that those Westerners don't like?

Such a picture, in which Moscovia is the target of a conspiracy of all its neighbours, became the determining factor in the Muscovite vision of the world at the turn of the 15th-16th centuries. Europe was perceived as a den of all possible vices, debaucheries, and heresies, where they do not sleep at night, hatching plans on how to destroy the last true bastion of Christianity. By heaping all possible accusations on Europeans, their own Muscovite phobias were attributed to them, of which no one in Europe had any idea. In the eyes of the Muscovites themselves, Moscovia is an island of 'righteousness' surrounded by a sea of enemies. Even foreign mercenaries in the armies of neighbouring countries were proof of this, because in Moscow's understanding, no subject could legally go to serve someone else without the ruler's knowledge. If Venetian mercenaries were encountered near Pskov, and the Crimean Khan had hired Genoese, then it is clear that the Italian lands are hostile and are definitely hatching secret plans to tear Moscovia apart. Any peace is a temporary state, but confrontation with neighbours is eternal.

It is possible that the Muscovites' obsession with their status and uniqueness (Moscow as the 'New Israel', a 'God-chosen country') is connected to the fact that only a couple of generations earlier the Grand Duchy had severed vassal relations with the Horde. The emphasis on its power and superiority was necessary to demonstrate chosenness to everyone, including themselves. Within the framework of such an obsession, the rulers of Moscow saw their role and status in the world known to them and built relations with other lands.

For Europe, which 'discovered' the hitherto unknown Moscovia in the 15th and 16th centuries and initially sincerely admired it, idealising it, subsequent contact brought only misunderstandings, conflicts, and disappointment.

Is a treaty a treaty?

In Moscow's view, concluding treaties with rulers of other lands in no way provided for the observance of these treaties. There is much evidence that both sides – both the Muscovites and the Europeans – knew, while discussing and signing the terms of the treaty, that it would not be observed in the details. However, it was extremely important to ensure that fabricated formulations were included in the treaty, even if they often did not correspond to reality at all.

This practice is quite clearly seen in the negotiations between Moscovia and Denmark in 1562. The Tsar demanded that it be included in the treaty that Moscovia owned Riga, Pärnu, and a number of other cities that the Muscovites had not even conquered yet and over which the King of Denmark had no jurisdiction. So to speak, let's divide Livonia: Northern Estonia for you, everything else for us. The Danish envoys were in a bind because signing such an act would inevitably lead to conflict with the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and Sweden, but then the Muscovites offered a compromise: the text unacceptable to Denmark was written only in the Russian copy of the treaty, while in the copy taken to Copenhagen, Muscovy's claims to Livonia were written only as claims, without imposing any obligations on Denmark. On 7 August, such a version of the treaty with a different copy for each side was signed. Both sides understood that it was absurd, but the long arguments and the meticulous discussion of every point show – the treaty, even if legally meaningless, was considered very important. Signing the treaty was important for the Tsar not as a legal, but as a symbolic act confirming his ambitions.

Treaties were concluded both 'for eternal times' and for a couple of years, embassies travelled to Europe and back, but I do not know of a single treaty concluded by Ivan IV which was not eventually broken. Of course, solely and exclusively due to the 'treachery' of the other side.

Shame for one's actions, if they have been immoral, and the admission of one's own guilt is a taboo subject in the politics of Moscovia, both in the Middle Ages and today – in this culture, one's own guilt is not admitted; others are always to blame, even if it contradicts the obvious.

Subtexts of diplomatic language

Filyushkin lists several formulas on which Moscovia's foreign policy in the 16th century was based. The basic categories on which political and legal obligations and relations were based were rooted in the terms of Orthodox ethics: love-not-love, friendship-not-friendship, brotherhood-not-brotherhood, good-not-good, etc. These were basic elements of diplomatic culture formed in centuries of relations with the Horde, the explanation of which was given in numerous instructions to envoys, as well as in letters from Khans to Grand Princes.

The concept of 'love' (любовь) in the secret interstate treaties of Moscovia denoted maximally close and friendly relations, a tight military alliance that provided for 'standing together against enemies'. This could be twofold: love as the closest of relations, and brotherly love as not-so-close, allowing for true 'love' in the near future.

This formula played a nasty trick on Europeans several times, who, wanting a close alliance and trying to adapt to Moscow's diplomatic language, agreed to include it in the treaty and were unpleasantly surprised that the next Muscovite step was a proposal to immediately draw up a list of 'enemies' against whom to start a war together. In such a situation in 1582, English envoys managed to successfully avoid this by suggesting that the Muscovites write down their list of enemies, and the Queen of England would use her influence to make them friends. Unfortunately, the joy was short-lived: it was immediately proposed that Elizabeth I make the King of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, Stefan Batory, a friend and force him to leave Livonia, and if he did not submit, the English army should go to war. To this, the English envoy replied confusedly: 'I cannot offer such a thing to my Queen, she would call me a fool!'

The next in the hierarchy of interstate relations was 'brotherhood' (братство), which in modern language could be explained as friendly neighbourly relations, respecting each other's sovereignty and helping the other in a crisis situation. The instructions to envoys indicated signs of brotherhood: common interests in foreign policy and equal diplomatic, trade, and military relations. 'Brothers' inform each other about their victories in war and changes in foreign policy plans, coordinate interests. However, 'brotherhood' was possible only with a ruler of equal status, for example, the Ottoman Sultan, the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, the Kings of Spain and England, the Kings of Poland (from the Jagiellonian dynasty). Moscovia would rather refuse obviously beneficial relations than let go of the importance of status. Ivan IV categorically refused to recognise the ruler of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, Stefan Batory, who was elected king by the Sejm, as an equal and to call him a 'brother', because Batory had allegedly ascended the throne himself, not inherited it, and therefore was not a real, Providence-anointed ruler.

True, beginning to suffer one defeat after another in the war for the Livonian inheritance, Moscow changed its position. Batory's military strength in the eyes of the Muscovites automatically raised him in rank, and in diplomatic correspondence, they finally began to call him a 'brother', though explaining that it was not Stefan himself who was worthy of brotherhood, but the Jagiellonian throne on which he sat. Changing the stance required years and significant military defeats. Allies were considered partners or satellites only depending on their military strength, leaving the legal norms of mutual treaties in the background.

Slightly lower in intensity were relations of 'friendship' (дружба), which stemmed from 'love' and 'brotherhood', namely, unclouded coexistence, constant diplomatic relations, free trade, and even a temporary military alliance: 'who will be your friend, he will also be my friend; who will be your enemy, he will also be my enemy'. The equivalent of friendship was 'oneness' (единачество) – cooperation of partners based on common goals and thoughts. Only with 'brotherly' monarchs were 'love' and 'friendship' possible, i.e., equality; with 'neighbours', constant 'not-friendship' (недружба) is the norm, and with all others – leading them to reason by military force.

It was precisely the importance of the status of the neighbouring ruler and the hierarchy of relations, not what is called common sense or interests today, that determined the guidelines of Moscovia's foreign policy. Its diplomats had strict instructions in all negotiations, which had to be scrupulously observed even if the situation had changed and the demands did not correspond to reality. The wishes and arguments of the opposing side simply did not interest the Muscovites. Europeans, in whose tradition of jurisprudence both contracting parties were equal when starting negotiations to agree on mutual benefit, were unable and still are unable to understand this.

Between millstones

The Livonians were the first to encounter the new geopolitical situation. The Grand Prince of Moscow considered it beneath his honour to negotiate with Livonian cities and even land lords. Better not to trade and suffer economic losses than to kiss the cross, confirming a treaty with those lower in status. In 1489, the lords of the Livonian lands turned to the Pope and the Emperor for help, but did themselves a disservice. The Grand Prince of Moscow stopped considering them equal negotiation partners whose opinion should be reckoned with even out of politeness.

Unlike Moscovia, in the 16th-century Europe, where every ruler had their own priorities and interests, there was no general canon of diplomatic relations. At that time, Europe, like Livonia, was a conglomerate of various states, essentially a geographical, not a political, phenomenon. Although the 'Muscovite threat' as a sword of Damocles appeared ever more clearly in the Livonian sky, the lords of the land used it as a card to achieve their own interests. Riga or Reval used Dorpat's troubles in trade with the East to their own advantage. The constant mention of threats also allowed the Livonians to avoid several taxes of the Holy Roman Empire, including the tax for the war with the Ottoman Empire. Even the income from the local war tax (der Stener zur Bekämpfung der Russen) was used not so much to strengthen military capabilities as to patch holes in communal budgets. The city councillors and bishops, just like modern provincial politicians, believed that 'the state must be run like a business enterprise'.

Only the leadership of the Livonian Order in the mid-16th century began to realise that the situation was becoming much more serious and that a series of sporadic border conflicts could over time grow into large-scale warfare. But the Master could only inform the rulers of neighbouring lands and city councils about his concerns, but not impose his will. The bishopric states and cities were independent, theoretically subordinate only to the Emperor, and the irregularly convened landtags were more like modern interstate meetings, not a joint parliament.

Like a bolt from the blue, the Year of the Lord 1550 thundered, when the latest term of the peace treaty with Moscovia ended and Livonia began to prepare a joint embassy for the conclusion of a new treaty. This procedure was perceived as quite routine, because peace and trade treaties with Moscow had already been signed at the beginning of the century. The Reformation and the turmoil it caused seemed much more significant at that time. However, to the great surprise of all, Moscow refused to conclude peace and began to put forward extensive political, territorial, and economic claims to the Livonians. As soon as the Livonians yielded on one point, the next demands followed.

Today, many researchers of the Livonian War still believe that Moscow needed access to the Baltic Sea and the Tsar would not have started the war if his merchants had free transit, although in the sources we see that Russian merchants in Livonia had much greater freedom of action and a higher social status than in their homeland. Moscovia had long since had access to the Baltic Sea, namely, it controlled the entire southern coast of the Gulf of Finland for about 300 km from the mouth of the Narva to the Neva, but it showed not the slightest interest in the development of its foreign trade. Nothing was done to set up ports there and turn the small towns into centres of transit trade.

The Livonians perceived the Muscovite invasion in the winter of 1558 as a demarche aimed at extracting more favourable terms for the conclusion of a new peace. Acknowledging with bitterness that this time it would probably be necessary to pay off with a disproportionately large amount of money, because the war would bring much greater losses to the Livonian cities than to Moscovia, which could partly cover its foreign trade deficit with the help of English merchants. Meanwhile, the Tsar was not interested in the merchants' problems at all; he and his advisors noted with surprise that no significant resistance was being shown in Livonia. The military campaign, which had been conceived as a kind of punitive expedition, quite rapidly reoriented towards the conquest of the territory – one could not let such an opportunity slip by.

The Livonians only gradually began to understand that something had changed seriously. The first shock was the fall of Narva – the Muscovites did not simply burn the city and leave for home with the loot, but settled there to stay and began to take the lands of the Bishopric of Dorpat under their control and push deeper into Livonia. In the summer, the Order turned to the Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand I, asking for help, but received only expressions of sympathy and promises to discuss this issue in the near future. In January of the following year, the Archbishop of Riga turned to Vienna for help, but again in vain. Only after the intervention of the Polish King Sigismund II in September 1559 did the Viennese court react and ask Ivan IV in writing to avoid the use of force, warning that an invasion of a province of the Empire and its looting meant insulting the Emperor. If Moscovia restores the status quo, the offence will be forgotten, and there will be 'brotherhood' again.

To reinforce the message, the Emperor imposed economic sanctions: he forbade the transport of war materials to Moscovia and called on England, Poland, Denmark, Sweden, and the cities of the Hanseatic League to join the sanctions. Quite a lot was said about the allegedly existing opposition of boyars in Moscovia, who were seeking support in Lithuania to overthrow the despised despot Tsar. But it turned out that such an opposition did not exist and could not exist – there are groups of boyars who have got to the 'trough' of power, and there are those who want to get to it. England, Holland, and the German cities on the west coast of the Baltic Sea, which the Muscovites did not directly threaten, continued trade with the East with double the energy. So to speak, Livonia is a bit of a pity, but business is business.

While European leaders pondered how to help the Livonians without burdening themselves too much, the Muscovites continued to ravage Livonia. Economic sanctions might have bankrupted some Russian merchant or craftsman, but they in no way affected the Tsar's intentions and pride in his power. And that was worth a couple of hundred bankrupt merchants. Only the Kingdom of Poland and the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, being Moscovia's closest neighbours, did not harbour illusions about the possibility of solving the conflict through negotiations and sanctions. In 1560, their combined army set off to take their share in the Livonia devastated and practically conquered by the Muscovites. But that is another story.

Nowadays?

Modern Europeans, too, when talking and thinking about Russia, rely only on their own ideas about law, diplomatic relations, good and bad, and therefore make mistakes – just like 500 years ago. For Russia, the status of a global superpower is much more important than self-interest, a constant sense of its power and superiority (even though its place in the world economy is quite insignificant, and if it were not for the legacy of Soviet nuclear weapons, it would have long since lost its chairs in the UN Security Council and the G8 summit).

Europeans acknowledge that East Asia is inhabited by a different civilisation, so one should not expect it to behave 'just like us'. On the other hand, in the perception of Europeans, Russia is a country of 'white people', so they are 'the same as us', and the differences should be minimal. No matter how politically incorrect it may sound, one must reckon with the fact that in terms of mentality, worldview, and type of thinking, Russia is a country of a different culture. As the experience of the last 500 years shows, attempts to ignore reality and imagine it as European end in yet another fiasco.

When Europe finally accepts that Russia is not and will not be part of Western civilisation, when it stops evaluating it with its own yardstick, idealising it, and waiting for 'civilised behaviour' from it, there will be far fewer misunderstandings and surprises.
The article was first published in the magazine "Domuzīme", issue No. 1, 2020. Republished on the portal zemeunvalsts.lv with the kind consent of the Author and the Editor-in-Chief of "Domuzīme", Rudīte Kalpiņa.
Used: cartoon by Christopher Weyant, The Boston Globe, and photographs from zemeunvalsts.lv