Self-Theft Of Europe. Part 1

Four days after Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine, on 28 February 2022, during an emergency session of the United Nations General Assembly, the head of the Ukrainian mission, Serhiy Kyslytsya, made a surprising request to those present: "Raise your hand if your country voted for Russia's admission to the UN." Not a single person moved. Kyslytsya adjusted his glasses to get a better view of the hall. But he still saw no hands raised.

In reality, the question was rhetorical. No one had ever voted for Russia’s membership in the organisation. Yet this did not stop the Russians from entrenching themselves there, almost as its masters. Or at least one of them. With veto power in the Security Council.

Photo: Russia at the table with the great powers. British cartoon from the early 20th century. Source: Wikipedia.

But has Moscow ever acted differently? And how did it end up among the “arbiters of world destiny”? Did it simply impose itself on others? Or was it actually invited into this “club”? Or, at the very least, given a “recommendation”? And who, in that case, was its “guarantor”?

For some reason, these questions are still considered “uncomfortable,” though the answers have long been known. After all, no matter what ambitions the Muscovite princes of the 15th century may have had, they lacked not only the strength or resources to impose their will on entire continents but even basic recognition. In those days, many in Europe did not even know where Moscow was located.

Photo: Greek map of Europe from the 15th century. Source: Wikipedia.

Rome, of course, was more informed—its status as the centre of the Catholic world obliged it to be. It’s no surprise that the Apostolic See, likely among the first in Europe, decided to use this distant and little-known state for its own interests. The Pope needed allies to fight the Ottomans, whose troops were already landing in Italy.

In the Middle Ages, Catholics similarly sought allies to fight for the Holy Land, which the Crusaders were losing to the Muslims. A whole legend emerged about the existence of a powerful Christian state in the East, led by the legendary “Prester John.” Instead of the mythical kingdom, however, the Mongols soon appeared on the horizon—but even they were considered by some in the West as the “lesser evil,” provided they were dealing with the Middle East and not the arrival of Asian horsemen in Europe itself.

Photo: Prester John (also known as Wang Khan) in a 15th-century miniature. Source: Wikipedia.

The same old recipe was used with Moscow. And unlike the Mongols, its ruler did indeed consider himself a Christian. By coincidence, he also bore the name John—this was Ivan III (known as "the Great" in official Russian historiography). To secure his alliance, Rome concocted a marriage between the Muscovite prince and the Byzantine princess Zoe Palaiologina, who was presented to him as royalty.

Photo: Ivan III "meets" his bride through her portrait. Source: Wikipedia.

Who could have predicted that the “groom” would truly believe that by marrying into the Byzantine dynasty, he would become the “heir to the Byzantine emperors” (or at least pretend to believe it) and demand recognition of this “inheritance” for Moscow? What fantasies this “northern savage” might conjure up!

Photo: The seal of Ivan III. Source: Wikipedia.

After all, Zoe’s brother, Andrew, who held the imperial title, had already sold it (quite literally, for a large sum of money), first to the King of France and then to the co-rulers of Spain. Were there not too many contenders for an inheritance that, let us recall, still had to be reclaimed from the Sultan?

Photo: Andrew Palaiologos visiting his brother-in-law. Source: Wikipedia.

Nevertheless, the precedent was set. And others took advantage of it—such as Maximilian of the Habsburg Empire, who sought an alliance against the Ottomans, and incidentally, against the Jagiellonians, despite them being fellow Catholics. Maximilian knew that Ivan III was more interested in Kyiv than in Constantinople at that time.

Photo: Maximilian Habsburg and Muscovite envoys. Source: Wikipedia.

Interestingly, the Muscovite prince rejected the royal title offered to him—he seemed to have fully embraced his role as the "successor of Byzantine rulers." Western diplomats played along, occasionally referring to Ivan III and his successors as "Emperors of the Russians" in official documents.

Photo: Treaty between Vasily III and the Teutonic Order, where he is referred to as "Emperor and Sovereign of all Russia". Source: Wikipedia.

Ultimately, Ivan IV (known as "the Terrible") took these compliments to heart. He not only officially declared himself a Tsar (i.e., “Caesar”) but also decided to wage war against Europeans for control of the Baltic coast. This war, known as the Livonian War, ended predictably in defeat. Vienna and Rome rushed to save the Tsar.

Photo: Atrocities of the Muscovites in Livonia. Engraving from the Nuremberg “Zeyttung” of 1561. Source: Wikipedia.

To secure peace on the most favourable terms for Ivan IV, the Pope sent one of his best diplomats, Antonio Possevino. The Pope hoped for a union between the Catholic Church and the Muscovite Church. The Tsar, however, was not interested in any union, nor did he take full advantage of the "gift" in the form of the Treaty of Yam-Zapolsky. Soon after, Moscow plunged into the Time of Troubles.

Photo: Antonio Possevino. Source: Wikipedia.

If anyone believes that Europeans learned caution from this history, they are mistaken. They soon began cosying up to the new Russian dynasty—the Romanovs. And the Habsburgs once again led the way. By this time, Moscow had new colonies in Siberia, and the prospect of accessing their wealth only increased the allure of an alliance.

Photo: Tribute collection in Siberia. Source: Wikipedia.

The most ardent propagandist of the Habsburg-Romanov alliance, Yuriy Krizhanich, even had the opportunity to experience Siberian life firsthand... as Tsar Alexei exiled the suspicious foreigner to Tobolsk, then the centre of a newly conquered territory. However, it seems that this only fuelled Krizhanich's determination. In the name of rapprochement with Vienna, he was willing to offer Moscow both Ukraine and Crimea — his memorandum is even considered the first draft of Russia's annexation of the peninsula (a century before Catherine II and three and a half centuries before Vladimir Putin).

In the end, Russia did join the Holy League against the Ottomans, in exchange for the recognition of its authority over Kyiv. But for Peter I, this was no longer enough. He returned to Ivan IV's plans to capture the Baltic coast. Unlike his neighbours, however, Peter drew lessons from previous defeats.

Photo: The “Treaty of Perpetual Peace" with the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was a condition for Russia's accession to the Holy League. Source: Wikipedia.

Despite all the flirtations with Eastern despots, by the end of the 17th century, no one in the West even considered the Muscovites to be Europeans. Exotic, bearded men trying to bribe everyone with furs they brought were perceived as outsiders — just like the Turks or Persians. Letting such people into one's home was, at the very least, unsettling. Peter I needed to change this perception.

Photo: Ivan Chemodanov, head of the Russian embassy to Vienna in 1657. Source: Wikipedia.

Like Zeus, who transformed into a bull to abduct Europa, the tsar decided to "disguise" himself as a European — quite literally, by forcing his subjects to wear Western clothing, shave their beards, and smoke tobacco. Of course, this did not change the essence of the Russian state; only its form altered — yet for Europe, it turned out that imitation was enough.

Photo: Peter I in the Netherlands. Source: Wikipedia.

Bribery, of course, did not disappear. But under Peter I, it was applied more effectively and with a broader perspective. They began bribing European intellectuals, who then turned into VIP propagandists — if not for Russia as a whole, then at least for its ruler.

Photo: Gottfried Leibniz. Source: Wikipedia.

Money was not the only tool — Europeans were enticed by appealing to their desires. If, for instance, Gottfried Leibniz dreamed of creating an ideal "regular state", Peter I agreed (in words, of course) to offer his own country for such an experiment and diligently played the role of the student to the "great German". Naturally, the tsar built his empire as he saw fit, but Leibniz was satisfied with the recognition of his "copyright" on the project. In gratitude, he helped attract other European intellectuals to the Russian side — such as Bernard de Fontenelle.

Photo: Bernard de Fontenelle. Source: Wikipedia.

The Enlightenment, with its search for the "enlightened despot", turned out to be particularly favourable to such a strategy. It was not difficult to declare Peter I as the embodiment of this "ideal image", while the barbaric, if not sadistic, methods he employed in governing his state and expanding its borders could easily be attributed to the "wild" character of his people (with whom there was no other way) and his unfortunate neighbours, who became victims of Russian expansion.

Another feature of the Enlightenment was the search for the "other" — a kind of "mirror" in which the flaws of European monarchies became more pronounced and understandable to the reader. It is no coincidence that Montesquieu titled his work "Persian Letters". But unlike Persia, the Russian monarchs and their court had by this time fully dressed themselves in European attire (what lay beneath was of no concern), so their empire was even better suited for the role of this "mirror".

Photo: Ivan Shuvalov. Source: Wikipedia.

It was left to Empress Elizabeth’s favourite, Ivan Shuvalov, to simply commission a book from Voltaire about the rise of the Russian Empire — everything else had already been done. Catherine II merely used the "Russian mirage" created by the French encyclopaedists to her advantage, maintaining her reputation through personal correspondence with them and financial support. In this, she differed little from the "terrible" Ivan IV.

The reputation of the "philosopher on the throne", however, suffered when she not only seized lands of little-known Asian peoples (even the greatest "enlighteners" did not care about them) or took territories from the Ottomans but also partitioned the quite European Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. The "mirage" seemed to completely vanish with the outbreak of the French Revolution, which Catherine II led the fight against.

Photo: "Gifts from Warsaw". A caricature of Catherine II's suppression of the Polish revolution. Source: Wikipedia.

In fact, however, this increased the empire's popularity among Europeans — not among the readers of the "Encyclopédie", of course, but in conservative circles, who now saw Russia as the protector and embodiment of the "old order". The "incomprehensible bearded men" were now perceived as bearers of values supposedly once inherent to the Europeans themselves but lost during modernity and the Enlightenment in particular.

In essence, it was no longer about the "abduction" of Europe but its "self-plunder", a rejection of its own achievements for the sake of recognising a state as its own that had never truly been part of the European community. Simultaneously, it was about the persistent "invention of Russia" — an image that had nothing in common with the real Russia (except — and even this is questionable), yet was perceived by Europeans as a reality they were "doomed to reckon with".

This attitude, of course, was welcomed in St. Petersburg. Not because they aspired to be or even become Europeans in the future. For its monarchs, it was far more important to "impose their laws on Europe" — as the chancellor of the aforementioned Empress Elizabeth, Alexey Bestuzhev-Ryumin, bluntly formulated the aim of Russian policy.

Photo: Alexey Bestuzhev-Ryumin. Source: Wikipedia.

Incidentally, it was Bestuzhev-Ryumin who found the recipe for advancing Russia into Europe with the support and money... of the West itself. The first to be of use to him were, once again, the Habsburgs, who decided to employ their proven ally from anti-Ottoman (and anti-Polish) coalitions to fight Prussia — an opponent not only within Europe but within Germany itself. By recognising Russia's "right" to intervene in the affairs of the Holy Roman Empire, Vienna handed Russia the keys to Europe.

Photo: Russia took advantage of Vienna's difficult position. Other Europeans only dreamed of snatching a piece of the Habsburg possessions for themselves, as depicted in this 18th-century Dutch caricature. Source: Wikipedia.

The second "helper" of Bestuzhev-Ryumin was Britain, which agreed to pay Russia for sending its armies to Europe. In London, the practice of financing continental allies—such as the Austrians—was ironically referred to as "St George's Cavalry" (since this saint was depicted on British gold coins). The British were confident they were using their "brothers in arms" for their own interests. But with Russia, it seemed the rider and horse had swapped places. St Petersburg extracted money from London right up until the victory over Napoleon at Waterloo. And it wasn't just money—during the war, Britain supplied its ally with weapons, even lead for bullets.

Photo: Britain pays for the creation of the anti-Napoleonic coalition. French caricature from the early 19th century. Source: Wikipedia. 

When Alexander I's troops entered Paris, the most far-sighted inhabitants of Albion were alarmed. Europe was already under Russian control and remained so for nearly half a century—until the Crimean War. However, even after that, Russia was still perceived as an "integral" part of the European landscape, regardless of its relations with any given continental power.

Circe's Spell: Free Thinkers in Service of Despotism. Excerpt from future Oleksii Mustafin's book In Bed with the Bear: Living Next to Russia as a Historical Challenge.

Catherine II's annexation of Crimea did not provoke any loud protests in Europe at the time. And who could object? Austria had just acquired Bukovina, and before that, along with Prussia and Russia, had divided the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. Britain was preoccupied with settling relations with the newly born United States.

France, of course, had traditionally been an ally of the Crimean khans. But they too had annexed territory—Corsica, despite the fierce resistance of local rebels, whose leader, incidentally, was called a "friend" by the Russian empress, as he indeed acted in her interests. That didn't stop her from abandoning him at the crucial moment. But now St Petersburg confidently appealed to the "solidarity of empires," arguing that each should have its own colonies.

After all, if the British had just gained India, why shouldn't the Russians take Crimea?

The new French King Louis XVI at that time sought an understanding with Catherine II. His displeasure was not with the annexation itself but with the fact that it was done in violation of Russia's promises and signed international treaties. As for French public opinion, it remained quite loyal to the empress. This was ensured in advance by none other than... Voltaire.

The "Great Satirist" almost worshipped Catherine II and supported her in nearly everything. He was the first to flatteringly compare the Russian ruler to the legendary Semiramis. Simon Linge, followed by Honoré Mirabeau, called her Zenobia, like the queen of ancient Palmyra. However, if we're talking about analogies, another ancient figure comes to mind—Circe.

It's not even about "biographical" parallels—Diodorus Siculus mentioned that this "minor goddess" married the king of the Sarmatians, then killed him, seized the throne, and terrorised her subjects with her cruelties. It's more about Homer's tale, where Circe enchanted lost foreign travellers, and those unstable under her influence completely lost their human form, turning either into woodpeckers or into pigs, obedient to their mistress.