John Rapley

LONDON:

Britain's announcement that it is charging a former Russian spy over the death of Alexander Litvinenko has added details to a story already worthy of a thriller. But it will only worsen relationships between Russia and the West.

Those relations were already at a low point. Russia, humiliated by the collapse of communism, has been brimming with confidence of late. Its resource-rich economy buoyed by the global commodities boom, it has been less inclined to pay attention to the calls by Western countries for her to change her ways.

A vicious spiral seems to have begun. Former Soviet puppet-states in eastern Europe, understandably fearful of a resurgent Russia, sought and received a warm embrace from the U.S. and its allies, which brought them into their treaty organisation and have now offered to build them a missile shield. In response, Russia - just as understandably - retreated into a defensive posture and launched a missile, which it said could penetrate any such shield.

Fear thus begets fear. Meanwhile, Russian President Vladimir Putin seems all too happy to undermine the institutions Western countries use as benchmarks of democracy. Political opposition is increasingly harassed, private media are reined in, and outspoken opponents of the Kremlin die in mysterious circumstances.

End of communism?Mr. Litvinenko's own death seemed an obvious instance of the latter. And while it is true that Western governments can be selective about where they want to see democracy flourish, it is also true that there was a genuine belief that the end of communism might bring a democratic flowering to Russia.

In hindsight, it was probably a bit optimistic. Aside from a short-lived republic in 1917, Russia had no experience of democracy before 1989, when the end began for communism.

And after the 1990s, any Russian could be forgiven for thinking little of it. In Russian democracy's first decade, the economy collapsed and living conditions plummeted, yet a few well-connected men grew fabulously rich. They manipulated the country's crash privatisation programme, producing what may have been history's greatest case of organised theft. Today, they live opulent lives, treating themselves to London football clubs with their weekend allowances.

Since coming to power in 1999, first as prime minister and subsequently as president, Vladimir Putin has at least stemmed the decline. With world oil prices rebounding, he has delivered several years of economic growth. Turning aside the objections of human rights activists, he brutally repressed the Chechen insurgency that once threatened to bleed Russia. And his tough talk on law and order, and on restoring Russian pride, has gone down well with a nation tired and shamed by the previous decade.

Mr. Putin's persistent popularity at home is therefore not difficult to understand. Whatever credit he deserves for fortuitous turns of event, he has rebuilt the economy and restored a measure of Russia's wounded pride. And so the criticisms by Western countries can be easily ignored. After all, complain though they will, they still want his oil.

But Russia's retreat back behind the walls that once sealed it off from the West may pose problems for the country. One simple juxtaposition shows why: Russia's consumption levels now exceed 1989 levels; Russia's gross output does not. That means Russians have been spending the oil windfall, not investing it.

Should commodity prices ever fall back down, Russia may yet find itself having to go west, cap in hand. The supreme irony may therefore be that Russia's fortunes depend on the Chinese boom that is driving commodity prices.

And the thought that Russia's cart has been hitched to its historic arch-rival would probably be a bit much for Russian pride to bear.