苏联经济改革(perestroika)时期俄罗斯和西方世界之间的风流韵事，总是可能由爱成仇。帝国的陨落通常令人痛苦。若要以英国为例，形容一下苏联的解体，你肯定会想到上世纪30年代大英帝国的瓦解。当时在大多数英国人看来，大英帝国解体本质上是好事，是一种自然规律。你会想到，在帝国没落的同时，苏格兰（相当于乌克兰）和威尔士（相当于白俄罗斯）也退出了联合王国，伴随着毁灭性的经济萧条，君主立宪整体和议会制度（相当于苏联政府）也被颠覆。
在这种背景下，俄罗斯重新确立国际地位、并在后帝国时代维持一种利益范围的努力，就不足为奇了。随着俄罗斯从上世纪90年代的低谷逐渐复苏，这种努力也与日俱增。不仅其"近邻"，就连中西欧的大部分国家，现在都担心自己过于依赖俄罗斯的油气资源。当格鲁吉亚一不小心惹恼了"俄国熊"，便发现莫斯科仍然有着在边境线之外发起有效军事行动的意愿和能力。
但鉴于乌克兰的大小与不稳定性、在乌克兰生活的俄罗斯少数民族的人数，以及克里米亚地区及黑海舰队对俄罗斯人想象力的牵制作用，俄乌关系一直是国际稳定方面的最大风险。因此，上月俄乌签署的协议――延长俄罗斯海军在塞瓦斯托波尔港租约，以换取更低的能源价格――成为一段时期以来从前苏联地区传出的最为可喜的消息。
对俄罗斯新帝国主义的谴责，有时是合情合理的，尽管如此，这种谴责总是应该有所节制，要意识到这种行为在昔日帝国都并不罕见。1945年之后，英国也曾经竭尽全力在其不断萎缩的帝国版图内保留尽可能多的影响力，有时不惜违反国际法（在苏伊士）或侵犯人权（镇压肯尼亚茅茅运动(Mau-Mau)的战争）。
放弃一个陆上帝国，向来比放弃海外殖民地更加困难。英国曾经拥有一个帝国，而俄罗斯本身就是一个帝国：放弃个人的财产，比直面对于自我身份的质疑要容易得多。面对亚洲或中东的众多事件，伦敦方面更容易采取一种放松的态度，而莫斯科则更难对高加索地区的骚乱淡然处之。英国和法国面临的难题中，与一个统一陆地帝国的问题最为接近的，便是爱尔兰和阿尔及利亚问题，而在这两个问题上，事实证明：帝国的撤退造成了异常严重的麻烦。
当然，俄罗斯紧紧抓住了帝国皇冠上那颗明珠：西伯利亚。考虑到这一地区的财富、稀少的人口以及中国这个"强邻"，西伯利亚的安全必然会引起莫斯科的关切。但西伯利亚也提供了种种可能性和诱惑。在这个资源不断稀缺的世界，西伯利亚的碳氢化合物资源不仅让俄罗斯拥有了国际影响力，而且几乎决定了其寻求自我肯定的方式。谢天谢地，俄罗斯选择了能源作为武器，而不是军事力量和吞并领土等手段。尽管如此，俄罗斯拥有的这种武器，使其在奉行自由资本主义的全球经济体制中，成为一个有些尴尬的参与者。
随着英语国家主导的全球化的第二个时期开始面临众多考验，人们几乎不可避免地会想起第一个、由英国引领的全球化时期――那一次全球化进程在1914-18年遭遇重创，在1939-45年几乎被摧毁。如果今天的中国是德意志帝国，那么全球稳定的前景就不太乐观。1913年，俄罗斯44%的贸易是与德国进行的，而且两大帝国的繁荣对于彼此都利益攸关。尽管如此，1914年两国间还是爆发了战争。
现有国际秩序的稳定非常符合当今俄罗斯的利益，如果这种秩序崩溃，能置身于火线之外，对俄罗斯而言就更为有利。但俄罗斯对于可决定其命运的地缘政治及经济因素的掌控，甚至要比二十世纪上半叶更加无力。历史不太可能让俄罗斯的统治者相信，全球经济联系（更不用说民主体制）是稳定与和平的保证。昔日的悲惨经历大概会让他们更相信一个事实：即尽管在1914年、甚至在1939年，都还有可能相信战争会以某种被定义为胜利的有意义的结果告终，但核武器的存在，使这种观点不再可信。
本文作者是伦敦政治经济学院(LSE)国际史系主任，著有《俄罗斯抗击拿破仑》(Russia against Napoleon)一书。
译者/何黎
http://www.ftchinese.com/story/001032719
The love affair between Russia and the west in the era of perestroika was always likely to turn sour. The loss of empire is usually bitter. To imagine a British equivalent to the collapse of the Soviet Union you would have to think of the British Empire's disintegration in the 1930s, when for most English people it was still regarded both as fundamentally benevolent and as part of the natural order. Empire's fall would have had to coincide with the secession of Scotland (Ukraine) and Wales (Belarus), with a devastating economic depression, and with the overthrow of the constitutional monarchy and parliamentary system (the Soviet party-state).
In this context, Russian efforts to reassert international status and preserve a post-imperial sphere of interest are unsurprising. Inevitably, these efforts have increased as Russia has recovered from the low point of the 1990s. Not just the "near abroad" but much of central and western Europe now fears overdependence on Russian oil and gas. When Georgia teased the bear incautiously it discovered that Moscow was once again willing and able to mount effective military operations beyond its borders.
But the biggest risk to international stability has always been Russo-Ukrainian relations, given Ukraine's scale and instability, the size of its Russian minority, and the hold that Crimea and the Black Sea Fleet has over the Russian imagination. Last month's deal to extend the Russian navy's lease at the Sevastopol port in return for lower energy prices is therefore the most welcome news to have come out of the former Soviet region for some time.
Condemnation of Russian neo-imperialism, though sometimes justified, should always be tempered by awareness that such behaviour is hardly unique among former empires. After 1945 Britain, too, struggled to retain as much influence as possible in its shrinking imperial space, sometimes at the expense of international law (Suez) or human rights (the war against the Mau-Mau in Kenya).
Shedding a land empire is always harder than letting go of overseas colonies. Britain had an empire but Russia was one: abandoning one's property is easier than facing challenges to one's identity. It is easier for London to take a relaxed attitude to events in Asia or the Middle East than for Moscow to remain aloof from chaos in the Caucasus. The closest Britain and France came to the problems of an integrated land empire was in Ireland and Algeria, and in both cases the imperial retreat proved exceptionally troublesome.
Russia, of course, has hung on to the jewel in its imperial crown, namely Siberia. Given this region's wealth, tiny population and powerful Chinese neighbour, its security is bound to be a cause of concern in Moscow. But it also offers possibilities and temptations. In a world of shrinking resources, Siberia's hydrocarbons not only give Russia international leverage but almost dictate how it will seek to reassert itself. Thank God that Russia looks to the energy weapon rather than military power and territorial annexations. Nevertheless, its possession of this weapon makes it a potentially awkward participant in the liberal-capitalist global economy.
As the second era of Anglophone-dominated globalisation faces a raft of challenges, thoughts almost inevitably turn to the first, British-led, era that was wounded in 1914-18 and almost destroyed in 1939-45. If China today is imperial Germany, then the prospects for global stability are unpromising. In 1913, 44 per cent of Russia's trade was with Germany and the two empires had a vast interest in each other's prosperity. Nevertheless, the two countries went to war in 1914.
Today's Russia has a big interest in the stability of the existing global order and a bigger one in staying out of the firing line should it founder. But it has even less control over the geopolitical and economic factors that will determine its fate than was the case in the first half of the twentieth century. History is unlikely to persuade Russia's rulers that global economic links, let alone democracy, are guarantors of stability or peace. Grim experience will probably lead to greater faith in the fact that, whereas in 1914 and even 1939 it was possible to believe that war could result in something meaningfully defined as victory, the existence of nuclear weapons makes that no longer credible.
The writer is head of the international history department at the London School of Economics and author of Russia against Napoleon
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