Discussions, Dialogue or Negotiation?
Is it Possible to Deal With the Russian Regime?
President of Russia Vladimir Putin meeting with US President Joseph Biden (via videoconference)., December 7, 2021. Source: www.kremlin.ru
In diplomatic language, to designate exchanges between two opposing parties, the terms “discussion”, “dialogue” or “negotiation” are regularly used, or more indiscriminately, “talks” or, more vaguely, “exchange of views”. The first two words are often used indiscriminately and the third is in principle of a more specific use: it is necessary in principle that a negotiation is open on a well-defined issue. But dialogue, often having a precise object, can easily be assimilated to a negotiation, at least at its beginning. And since diplomatic language is almost limitless in its inventiveness, it can be described in terms of “structured dialogue”, “strategic dialogue”, “substantial dialogue”, or even “dialogue of trust”—this one being, with the Kremlin, become null and void, as far as it was something else than a fancy. “In-depth” discussions are in principle dialogues. In short, there is a feeling that there is no drastic difference between these terms.
Between democracies, the exact name probably does not matter much, even if disputes, especially commercial and economic ones, can sometimes be heated, especially between the United States and its allies. But as soon as one is dealing with a dictatorial and criminal regime, as is Putin’s Russia, the use of precise words has a real importance. Indeed, behind the words, there are concepts and realities. A discussion is not a negotiation; a dialogue is not a simple exchange of views. The way in which we approach an adversary, if not an enemy, expresses our attitude towards him, says something about our intentions, gives an account of our strategy, also participates in the performative character that is often attributed to diplomacy, and finally is used as a sign by the one with whom we are exchanging—and, more and more often, also as a weapon.
The problem we are raising here is not one of argumentation, but of the heart of the relationship of democratic countries with the Kremlin. Language expresses an intention, but also an understanding, or a misunderstanding, of the regime. It says what we want or refuse. It expresses our strength or our abandonment.
Some world leaders as well as scholars use the term “grammar”, in a form of rhetorical emphasis, to attach it to strategy or apply it to international relations. It is here from a stage before the grammar that we propose to start, even before syntax or morphology. The strategic grammars on the market are a disembodied or futile exercise when the meaning of words is missing—and the castle of signs they propose to build is founded on the sand of meaningless words. One cannot pretend to elaborate a grammar when one does not master the basis of the vocabulary: it would be like building a mathematical axiom without having acquired the rules of logical reasoning.
The particular events we have been experiencing since December 2021—the exacerbation of the Kremlin’s threats and the further hardening of its bellicose rhetoric—would, however, amply justify serious consideration of this question of terms. In fact, these terms are used with no real caution by governments and members of diplomatic chancelleries: in the United States, Germany, France, Ukraine and elsewhere, at least those of discussion and dialogue are used almost interchangeably—and sometimes even the word negotiation pops up in a clumsy sentence. The main problem here is that, as is certainly relatively usual in such exchanges, much remains secret. And yet, suspicion remains acute among the Allies despite stronger than usual common positions. Some wonder what the American administration might put on the table or what concessions Paris and Berlin might be willing to make. No one can distinguish reality from rumor, because no one can tell what was really said. It is also well known that the Kremlin seeks first of all to stir up divisions, to sow a few stones so that this or that person will fall on them, to launch false information or to give its interpretation of the “discussions”—especially when the communiqué of the opposing party is too late.
But more than that, no one really knows, beyond the content of the talks, what the governments that decide to engage in them expect. It should be a common rule that when one talks to an enemy, it is not just “to talk”. There must be an intention, a purpose, messages to be conveyed, an end goal, because talks are only means. And according to this, there is discussion or dialogue or negotiation. The mode of exchange is tied to the objectives as well as to the analysis of the opposing regime.
Attempt at a definition: why does it matter?
Few would argue with maintaining a channel of communication between dictatorial regimes of any significance—excluding here certain regimes guilty of massive crimes against humanity such as the Assad regime or, earlier, that of Bashir in Sudan—and democratic governments. They can avoid potentially serious misunderstandings, as was said during the Cuban missile crisis. Other “errors” due in particular to deficiencies in automated information systems, both Russian and American, could have had catastrophic effects. Beyond such extreme cases and communication at the military level, a communication channel also allows messages to be passed, including warnings, to the opposite party.
The triviality of discussion
Nor is it disputed that leaders, foreign ministers and their advisors can continue to talk. Here too, this makes it possible to better decipher the intentions of the adversary, to put forward his point of view, to try to set red lines, whatever the fate, and to issue warnings. But Western leaders in particular must be able to analyze the messages sent. Sometimes, this can be fruitful: Emmanuel Macron undoubtedly understood better who he was dealing with when Vladimir Putin told him gross nonsense about the poisoning of Alexei Navalny and spoke to him as if he were an idiot—which he understood well—and it seems that this has happened again. Such discussions require a great deal of preparation, including psychological preparation, because the Kremlin leader has mastered the use of threats, as well as flattery—he has used them with the French president as well as with Italian leaders—which allows him to try to kill two birds with one stone. By singling out interlocutors as either privileged (Joe Biden) or trusted (Emmanuel Macron, Mario Draghi), he hopes to both draw them in and break the common front of Western firmness.
Of course, these discussions have an agenda and are organized and prepared by advisors, but they remain exchanges of views. They are not supposed to lead to joint decisions, resolution of difficulties and agreement. They should not be presented as such to the public. Too often, some leaders have announced that there might be progress, when in fact there was none, as was later officially noted. A discussion may be necessary, but as such it is bound to remain fruitless in terms of results with the Russian regime. To pretend otherwise risks leading to errors of judgment and a form of communication that is troubling to our allies.
Why is dialogue literally impossible?
What we call dialogue is in principle of a different nature. If there can be difficult, if not conflicting, dialogues between people who love each other or between close friends, they can exist neither without trust nor without a common background, both in terms of rationality and values. There is even, philosophically, an intimacy of dialogue—that of the soul with itself, said Plato in the Theaetetus, which produces thought—which, moreover, can be of an infinite difficulty and of a constant requirement between two friends. The characters Plato puts on stage—notably the sophists whose very purpose is to turn away from the search for truth—are as if outside the dialogue. The dialogue thus shows that they can only be outside the dialogue from which they exclude themselves, as are those who are only driven by instincts or impulses from before thought.
The very term διάλογος, which I certainly cannot analyze here in detail, has two terms which it is, in themselves, necessary to apprehend. The prefix διά presupposes a form of mediation and passage for the λόγος—i.e., first of all reason, or else speech as structured by rules, or finally the “verb”, symbol of action. The hyperbolic example is found in the first sentence of the preamble to the Gospel according to St. John (1:1) to designate Christ, whose word institutes and merges with him to the point that the word is repeated three times (“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God”—“ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος, καὶ ὁ λόγος ἦν πρὸς τὸν θεόν, καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος”). This sentence has been dissected many times and its meaning—for we are talking about a symbol (literally that which unites or holds together)—remains subject to multiple interpretations. What is certain, and to my mind fruitful for our analysis, is that the verb here has a function of institution and, therefore, of creation. When the word moves among men through dialogue, it institutes a common space, the one we should say, where the common belonging is established and decided.
Dialogue appears in its triple nature; first, exchange through reason even as reason progresses through this exchange; second, formation in common of rules that further strengthen the possibility of dialogue; third, perhaps more pompously, institution of something common. Dialogue is only possible—this was at the heart of Martin Buber’s I and Thou—in the recognition of otherness as part of myself and precisely in the refusal of a hold, of a domination and of an instrumentalization. Coexistence is not a legal construction, but a primary fact. Moreover, as has been well written, reciprocity in Buber is not of the order of a pact, of an agreement or of a consent that is somehow snatched away, but a given that is consubstantial to the relationship.
If it was necessary to make this detour, it is certainly not to take the singular requirements of the philosophical dialogue as the basis of a model for the dialogue between two governments, but to recall that, in spite of everything, the term cannot be too much diverted. The basis, even minimal, of a “dialogue” with a dictatorial state does not exist. Certainly, two democratic states can have opposing interests and seek to trap the other, or to treat it as an object destined to be subjected to its will—indeed, Buber himself recognized: “Here is the high melancholy of our destiny: in the world in which we live, the Thou inevitably becomes an It.” But there is a moment when dialogue can at least be resumed, if only because, in the face of third-party threats, the sense of shared values ultimately prevails.
What is the meaning of dialogue when the goal of one is the destruction of the other, and if this goal can be postponed in time, it is only to give oneself all the more means to achieve it later? What is the meaning of a dialogue when the other is only prepared to back down as a tactic in order to plunge the iron even deeper? What does dialogue mean when the other opposes a set of values that can only prosper by destroying the others, rejecting the very principle of any coexistence? What does dialogue mean when the other, for reasons I had suggested, has as its ultimate ambition only de-foundation—opposition as radical to the institution and foundation that the very term λόγος contained?
The problem with the use of the term “dialogue” when applied to the current Russian regime is not primarily of a sort of aesthetic nature nor because it is in opposition to a philosophical ideal, but because it misleads about the very nature of the opponent. The question does not lie in the misuse of the word “dialogue”, but in the veil that its use casts over the reality of what it is. The impropriety of the word does not matter as such, but it does matter because of the thoughtlessness it confers on our actions. For believing that dialogue is possible is not a belief without concrete consequences; it leads us to behave as if the enemy could become a friend and thus to pretend to believe it, giving him a little more time to prepare his offensives. The primary illusion is to believe that dialogue with the Kremlin could institute, in particular, a security order based, in the words once used by President Biden, on a “stable and predictable relationship” with Russia. The belief in dialogue is not only inept, but potentially fatal. It wastes time, the very time the enemy needs most.
A risky belief in negotiation
The concept of negotiation, on the other hand, is probably simpler to conceptualize. Negotiation between two parties consists of reaching a mutual agreement, which may take the form of an agreement or a treaty. Of course, the result of a negotiation can be obtained under pressure—in particular an armistice agreement that can give rise to a treaty, such as the Treaty of Versailles—and the agreements or treaties can then be challenged, denounced or violated. The Kremlin is accustomed to doing this, and in the case of Ukraine, the prime example is the Budapest Memorandum of 1994, but also the United Nations Charter, the Final Act of the Helsinki Conference, the London Treaty on the Council of Europe, and several bilateral treaties between Kyiv and Moscow. To this should be added, without the list being exhaustive, the violation of the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty (INF) and the Chemical Weapons Convention (CWC) as well as the Biological Weapons Convention (BWC).
We can start from the basic assumption that I defended six years ago: there can be no negotiations with Putin’s Russia or, at least, there can be no negotiations without serious means of pressure, including military ones. First, it is a regime that is waging or has waged an aggressive war, in Ukraine, Georgia and Syria, or is conducting operations similar to these, in Africa and, through information that the Kremlin openly considers a weapon of war, especially against democracies. Secondly, it is a regime that has, by this means, invaded territories that are still under its control.
Therefore, assuming that there can be “negotiations”, it is crucial first to define what, from the point of view of the democracies, the object of the negotiations might be. There is, in fact, only one: to stop the offensive actions of the Russian regime and to allow the currently invaded states, of which entire regions are in fact annexed, to recover their territorial integrity and their full sovereignty. In addition to re-establishing internationally recognized borders, it is also necessary to put an end to actions that contravene international humanitarian law, in particular war crimes. The “discussions”, notably in the framework of the Normandy Format, seem hardly likely—in any event, they shouldn’t—to lead to compromises given the revisionist position of Putin’s Russia—and we know that it is this regime that violated the Minsk 2 Agreements, not Ukraine. Nor can it call into question the security order in Europe as defined both by the Helsinki Final Act and by the agreements concluded after the fall of the Wall and the dissolution of the USSR, in particular the Charter of Paris—for the avoidance of doubt, the French President has made it clear that the discussions on security in Europe cannot be about that. That there may be more fruitful discussions on the main international arms control conventions is possible—this is reflected in NATO’s and US structured responses at the end of January 2022 to the Kremlin’s unacceptable demands—, but it will not be possible without credible and strong pressure.
The White House, Washington, D.C. President Vladimir Putin and US President George W. Bush addressing a news conference after the highest-level consultation, November 13, 2001. Source: www.kremlin.ru
Opposing propaganda: a diplomatic oversight
Nor can the leaders of the major democratic powers use the terms “discussion”, “dialogue” and “negotiation” without paying attention to the way they are used in the Kremlin’s propaganda accounts. The Kremlin regime knows perfectly well how to use these statements about “talks” to get its own messages across, through the writing of read-outs, the commentary on them by the organs under their control, both in Russia and abroad, and their relays of influence in certain Western circles. The history of the last 22 years shows that it has been able to take advantage of this, since it has always been able to win its wars without any major response and even to let the idea be accredited, thanks to its soft propaganda, including among mainstream politicians, that it would have partially founded concerns. Some otherwise good minds have been seen to buy into its supposed security perceptions as real.
The Russian regime’s primary propaganda objective is thus to instill the idea that there are two sides with equally legitimate claims and that the Russian state has not committed any reprehensible crimes. In itself, the notion of discussion does not amount to recognition of a presumption of legitimacy, whereas the idea of dialogue develops the fiction that everyone might be in the right.
Its second purpose is to lower the bar for agreement in its favor, in other words, to lower the level of what, on the Western side, is considered non-negotiable. This is what his threats of a new, larger-scale aggression are leading to at the same time. The Kremlin intends to ensure, after having already won everything, that the West will in some way endorse, or consecrate, its conquests. Even though, in principle, there is nothing that the democracies can concede—including the occupation of part of Donbass and the annexation of Crimea, the occupation of 20% of Georgian territory, the de facto annexation of Moldovan Transnistria, the control of Armenia and even part of Azerbaijani territory—, Vladimir Putin intends to demonstrate, once again, that the West does not really show a serious desire to defend them. In this case, too, he would kill two birds with one stone: not only would he attain his objectives of partially re-establishing a zone of influence by force, but he would also succeed in achieving his ideological goal of destroying the values of freedom that the West is supposed to defend. Certainly, the new firm stance of the Allies shows that the free world has finally understood the reality of the Russian threat. However, at the same time, by suggesting that there is something to “negotiate” with Moscow, it corrodes the credibility of this firmness.
Thirdly, it should not be forgotten that one of the fundamental objectives of propaganda is to divide the Allies. Admittedly, this has also been better understood and discussions between Russia and this or that country, especially the United States and France, are widely consulted beforehand and reported on afterwards. Emmanuel Macron now takes great care to make this clear during his telephone discussions with Vladimir Putin. Only Orbán’s Hungary, which now openly supports the Kremlin’s positions, and, to a certain extent, Germany—with Olaf Scholz’s scheduled visit to Moscow, during which bilateral issues should also be discussed—seem to be free of this. Nevertheless, the multiplication of discussion forums, including bilateral ones, gives the impression of a certain confusion. In particular, the continuation of discussions in the Normandy Format, from which it is difficult, for the reasons given, to expect anything, gives rise to the criticism of a somewhat isolated approach to a subject whose global implications could be considerable. The loss of all credibility in Berlin is certainly an aggravating factor. There is a major risk that these talks could be interpreted as negotiations in which Kyiv would be pressured to accept concessions that are unacceptable not only to Ukraine, but also to the free world.
Finally, Moscow continues to seek to sell, through its own narratives, the perception that it is a normal regime—not to mention its tactic of using a crisis it has exacerbated, in this case in Ukraine, to make the West look away from what it is simultaneously doing elsewhere, in Belarus and Syria in particular, and from the repression at home. The most expedient way to do this is to give the impression that Russia could be, if not the solution, at least a valid interlocutor on certain issues, such as the health crisis, environmental issues, even terrorism and trade agreements. This technique, which consists of slicing up issues like salami, is perfectly in line with Moscow’s desire to re-legitimize itself and even to whitewash its crimes.
Postures against the alliance
This game of mirrors, which Moscow uses as propaganda, can easily continue to work as long as the Allies have not agreed on the words, but even more essentially on what the “discussions” with Moscow really mean—since that is all there is to it. If I have placed the term “dialogue” much more than the technical term “negotiation” at the center of this essay, in an attempt to get at its real meaning, it is because the risk of reiterating what it covers—much more so than the distorted use of the word—is the greatest.
Some people continue to think that something can be “instituted” with Putin’s regime, that there are, despite the divergences and threats, some common elements, that it is possible to attribute to this regime a form not only of instrumental rationality, but also of rationality in value, In short, we could make it listen to reason and find this common space, as if to reunite the two now disjointed parts of the σ́υμϐολον, that symbol that was once an object split in two, of which two friends kept a piece in order, one day, to recognize and reunite.
For such is the game of mirrors that Moscow holds up: that of a regime analogous to what democracies are, which has only opposing interests, which only needs to be understood, and whose aggressiveness, all in all, may have once also been that of democracies. And if the basic arguments are not convincing, it will be enough to appeal to the eternal nature of diplomacy, whose primary function would be to close its eyes, to disdain to name and praise the powerful first, even if they are lying on the ground. For even so, to go so far as to recognize this regime as “normal,” one needs a serious capacity for forgetting—and a strong indifference to crime. I wrote about this here: the limited reactions of Western political leaders to the liquidation of Memorial—and indeed their silence more often than not—is probably only the ultimate sign that the crime, and therefore history, have disappeared from their horizon.
And this regime, finally, could hope to succeed for a simple and so stupidly banal reason: national glory, another name for vanity coupled with selfishness. Despite the professions of faith of unity, consultation and joint decision-making in the main international organizations that count, first NATO, then the EU, and finally the group of Allies within the OSCE, this commitment, certainly sincere, may not last. The United States, Turkey, Germany, France, and Italy may be tempted to want to play a role of pre-eminence that they only conceive of playing as a distancing or a claim to autonomy.
Each of their leaders may try to sell himself to his own public opinion as the one who has succeeded in opening a so-called “dialogue” and re-established the link, the one who has ensured peace or at least a respite, or worse, the one who has succeeded in imposing de-escalation—as if this were the ultimate goal and as if it did not have a price—, or the one who has shown that his country counted more than the others or was more important because he had succeeded in breaking out of the consensus. The risk is all the more singular in that some leaders, even reasonable ones, can be tempted to adopt, as we have seen, the rhetoric or wording of populism—and the fact of being a “disrupter” or “non-conformist”, that is, not aligned with classic democratic positions, is perceived as an asset.
Vladimir Putin knows this, but he also knows how to stir it up. No doubt he has gone too far and has strengthened the common front of the Western world in recent months. But he is well aware that he has time on his side and that divisions can set in again—out of laziness, pride, pretentiousness, or stupidity.