Russia's neighbours will always fear it – and that's normal

Russia Today

13 hours ago

Azerbaijan has switched to 'restless neighbour' mode once again, reminding us of an enduring reality: countries living within Russia's sphere of influence will always fear Russia. Our relations with post-Soviet neighbours will continue to be periodically marred by misunderstandings, as is happening with Baku today.
Russia's borders remain largely transparent and porous, with the exception of our boundary with one of the friendliest great powers of the modern era – China. Across all other frontiers, the legacy of empire persists, making it pointless to distinguish fully between internal and foreign policy.
Whether it takes the form of a military presence, allied obligations, cultural and linguistic ties, or sheer dependence in foreign policy, Russia's neighbours – from the Baltic states to Poland and Finland – remain in its sphere of influence. These relationships are the product of centuries of history. No matter how they struggle to escape, they rarely succeed, and even if they do, Russia continues to occupy a central place in their imagination.
The Baltic states and Finland have cut themselves off from Russia, yet they cannot truly live without thinking about it. Nothing changes in substance. This is the inescapable consequence of historical ties, and although it may bring trouble and anxiety, it is also a given.
Fear, sadly, is the natural response. We must understand that Russia's neighbours will always fear it, and that this fear cannot be eliminated. Rather, it must be accounted for and managed through realistic politics. Even where relations appear stable, as with the Central Asian republics, fears about Russian intentions linger.
A few years ago, at the height of the pandemic, I conducted in-depth interviews in nearly all former Soviet countries (excluding Ukraine and Turkmenistan). Among political figures and academics, even the most intelligent ones, anxiety about Russia was palpable, either directly or indirectly.
Russia knows that solving regional disputes by force is usually against its own interests. But it cannot assume neighbours see Moscow in the same way. Other states inevitably judge Russia by its history, its scale, and its power – and a great power can always be tempted by simple solutions.
In today's volatile global environment, confidence in the future is a privilege enjoyed by very few. States like Russia, the USA, China, or India, thanks to their power, can be confident. Others, like Iceland or Liechtenstein, are too small to count. Even tiny Luxembourg must look over its shoulder at Germany and France. International law is no real guarantee. Major military powers, including Russia, do not grant indefinite security guarantees to countries on their doorstep.
Geography is the second key factor. A state's position on the map shapes its destiny and its foreign policy. It is naive to suggest Russia should treat its neighbours as the United States treats Mexico or Canada. The American neighbours are effectively marooned on an island far from the world's main conflicts. They cannot look elsewhere for help in a dispute with the strongest power on earth, so they remain cautious.
By contrast, Russia's neighbours have open borders in many directions and constant opportunities to hedge their positions. It is only natural they look for friends elsewhere to calm their fears. This is why Turkey is active in the South Caucasus, and, more discreetly, in Central Asia. The former Soviet republics see Turkish partnership as a safeguard, even though no one truly believes Ankara can match Russia's influence. Turkey lacks the financial means and strategic independence to replace Russia. But having Ankara nearby is useful leverage in dealings with Moscow – the same way some former Soviet republics use engagement with BRICS to negotiate with the West.
This produces a dense and complicated web of relationships, where diplomats must do most of the heavy lifting. Nothing is simple or easy.
For Russia, the shared geography and deep historical connections mean it cannot view its neighbours like any other states on the planet. Borders on the continent cannot be made impenetrable unless a country has ironclad internal controls, like China or North Korea. Russia's other neighbours are not built that way. They prefer openness with Russia, no matter the periodic tension.
Russia's own identity also prevents a total break from its former Soviet neighbours. Russia is a multi-ethnic, multi-faith society. Its unity is built on cooperation among many groups, not rigid exclusion. A hard border with neighbours would inevitably lead to attempts to draw boundaries inside Russia itself – a dangerous path for a country whose main ethnic group must remain integrated and secure in a world full of threats.
Historically, Russian rulers from the 15th century onward recruited people from the Golden Horde – their former enemies – to shore up manpower in a land of poor resources and harsh conditions. That pragmatic tradition continues today. Russia cannot cut itself off from the diasporas that grew out of centuries of common history. Policing them is the job of law enforcement, but no fence can change that legacy.
This explains why Russia's relations with its neighbours will always carry an undercurrent of anxiety. It is happening with Azerbaijan today and will happen again elsewhere. Russia's patience is not infinite, but its statecraft is consistent, rooted in a realistic appreciation of its history, its geography, and its place in the modern world.
Great powers must understand their neighbours' fears but not surrender to them. Russia should neither abandon its influence nor expect to be loved for it. Instead, it should manage the consequences of its size and power, and treat neighbourly fear as part of the price of being a giant.
That is the task before Russian diplomacy – and a test of its ability to balance strength with responsibility in an ever more unstable world.