The US general Mark Clark knew a thing or two about dealing with Russians. In the aftermath of the defeat of Nazi Germany, Clark commanded the American occupying forces in Austria. His Soviet opposite number, and nominal ally, was Marshal Ivan Konev. The two war heroes were tasked with pacifying the conquered and divided country at the dawn of the Cold War.
‘The Russians were not interested in teamwork,’ recalled Clark in his 1950 memoir, Calculated Risk. ‘They wanted to keep things boiling… They were accustomed to the use of force. They were skilled in exploiting any sign of weakness or uncertainty or appeasement. This was their national policy.’
Two things infuriated Clark more than anything. One was the Soviets’ constant ‘resort to lying, to betrayal, to the repudiation of solemn pledges’. The other was their practice of making deliberately unreasonable demands. After one particularly frustrating meeting, Clark confronted Konev. ‘You’ve made ten demands at this council that we can’t meet,’ fumed Clark. ‘But suppose I should say, “All right. We agree to all ten demands.” Then what would you do?’ Konev’s answer was for once straight. ‘Tomorrow,’ he said, ‘I’d have ten new ones.’
Sounds familiar? The combination of barefaced lying and outrageous demands described by Clark is, today, the entire basis of Vladimir Putin’s negotiating stance over Ukraine. The diplomatic playbook of the modern Kremlin appears to be copied most faithfully from its Soviet predecessors.
One of the Kremlin’s favourite tactics is to do both good-cop and bad-cop diplomacy at the same time. This week, for instance, Putin appeared to play the peacemaker by announcing a unilateral three-day ceasefire to cover the celebrations of Victory Day, which Russia celebrates on 9 May.
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