Rodric Braithwaite: Across the Moscow River. The World Turned Upside Down. New Haven: Yale UP, 2002. 372 pp.
Former ambassador Rodric Braithwaite ‘s personal touch and familiarity with Russian history combine to make this volume both valuable and a pleasure to read. Starting with a tour of the British embassy, located directly across the Moscow River from the Kremlin, he surveys the building’s staff and its history, going as far back as the original architect, a member of the nascent middle class in the second half of the 19th century.
From there, he moves easily to the larger background, always managing to find the apt quotation. Catherine the Great: “The sovereign must be autocratic, for no other form of government but that which concentrates all power in his person is compatible with the dimensions of a State as great as ours… Any other form of government would be not only harmful, but utterly ruinous for Russia.” Gorbachev’s failure to heed this advice, says Braithwaite, was one reason for his downfall. (pg. 22) Aleksandr Herzen: “The Russian submits to the law from force alone.” (pg. 28)
His passages on role of religion in Russian life, though not extensive, are insightful. Take for example his words on the “deliberately anti-intellectual strand in its thinking” to explain why the Orthodox Church has “no strong theological tradition” and yet is able to play such a vital role in the country’s emotional life. “The myths and the practice of autocracy and Orthodoxy allowed no room in Russia for ideas of pluralism, dissent or loyal opposition. The gap this left in the Russian body politic was filled by the Russian intelligentsia.” (pp. 26-27)
Before taking up his post, Braithwaite evidently found it necessary to clean up his behavior so as to make himself less of a target to the “organs” of security. Anyone hoping for more salacious detail than this, however, will be disappointed. Even when drawing on a diary he kept but rarely quotes from directly, the ambassador is the soul of discretion, which no doubt helped him serve his country honorably, but does rather reduce the entertainment value of his memoir. No racy anecdotes here, little overt settling of scores even. He may refer in passing to various peccadilloes but never describes them in any detail. He has, in other words, exactly the right temperament for a diplomat – ‘Let’s smooth this over, shall we?’ – and none of the gung-ho journalistic urge to blow the lid off.
His admiration for Gorbachev shines through from the beginning, though he does not whitewash his shortcomings as a leader, including his blindness to the gathering danger he faced. Writing in 2002, Braithwaite remains true to his optimistic streak in asserting that Russian leaders after Gorby could no longer manipulate the vote nor “rely on a subservient electorate to retain them indefinitely in power” (pg. 116), and that Russia’s imperial drive was dead.
On other matters he was more prescient. His advice to Westerners in Russia regarding Abkhazia in the early 1990s applies equally well to Ukraine today. “Outsiders who expressed a view on one side or the other got into serious trouble. Those who implied that blame lay with both sides got into still more serious trouble. It was not safe even to express total neutrality. In real life, philosophy has its limitations.” (pg. 111)
Regarding NATO expansion, he recalls something I remember clearly from the time: “James Baker assured Gorbachev in February 1990 and again in May that NATO jurisdiction and troops would remain to the West of the Elbe.” This was echoed by John Major in March of the following year. (pg. 134)
He agrees with a group of German visitors (including Hans-Dietrich Genscher) who in 1991 expressed the view that “… in a decade or two Russia would reassert itself as the dominant force in the huge geographical area which surrounded it.” He adds, “Perfectly sensible Russians frothed at the mouth if it was suggested that Ukraine (from which they all traced their history) might go off on its own. I doubted that the Russians would simply acquiesce in Ukrainian independence, or that they had much understanding of Ukrainian sensibilities. The relationships were as combustible as those in Northern Ireland: but the consequences of an explosion would be far more serious.” (pp. 264-65)
The most dramatic scenes in the book come when he quotes directly from his diary of the August 1991 coup. Looking back, he expresses some shame that he failed to play a more active role, noting along the way: “Russians are peculiarly prone to conspiracy theories.” (pg. 242) The old guard’s last attempt to retain power came as a surprise to him, though he modestly refrains from retroactively attributing to himself a foresightedness he lacked at the time. While he frankly acknowledges his misjudgments, he sets forth the reasons for them with undiminished conviction. Beneath the veneer of self-criticism, one senses that Braithwaite is not lacking in self-confidence. In fact, one can see it right there in the boldness of his signature (I purchased a second-hand autographed copy). What all this suggests, though, is that faced with similar circumstances again, he might well repeat the same erroneous prognostications he made the first time around.
The high point describing the coup is followed, alas, by a chapter on the economy, which is much more academic in tone, being based largely on statistics rather than personal observations. While he is properly scathing about Yeltsin-era Western advisors who flew in, dispensed advice, collected their fees and flew out again, one wishes he had come down harder on those vultures. He also makes a telling point about Russian adaptability to hardship which happens to apply again today, two decades later: “Local businesses, especially in the food industry, began to produce Russian goods – to Russian taste – to replace the consumer goods that were no longer being imported.” (pg. 322) And his comments about the corruption and incompetence of courts and bureaucracy have lost none of their relevance.
Unfortunately, though, Braithwaite the eye-witness recedes in these final chapters as he begins writing straight history. The first-person point of view – precisely the thing that made the first nine chapters so valuable – does not entirely vanish but is absent for long stretches. At times one senses that the author may be drawing heavily on official reports he probably wrote himself. As such, they must have read well. As memoirs, though, they read a bit too much like what they once were, diplomatic summaries, with the most colorful bits airbrushed out.
He concludes with George Kennan’s sage advice from 1951: “Give them time; let them be Russians; let them work out their internal problems in their own manner. The ways by which people advance towards dignity and enlightenment in government are things that constitute the deepest and most intimate processes of national life. There is nothing less understandable to foreigners, nothing in which foreign influence can do less good.” (pg. 342)
On the whole, Braithwaite is solid, balanced, and judicious – pretty much what one would expect from Her Majesty’s ambassador. Does he offer character sketches and informed opinion? Most certainly. Revelations and indiscretions – not so much. Though as the famous bon mot has it, an ambassador is an honest gentleman sent to lie in the service of his country, Braithwaite does not prevaricate so much as omit anything that might be embarrassing, preferring to present himself as a sharp observer without being sharp-tongued.
© Hamilton Beck
(The view from the embassy)
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