6 Jun 2023

Conflict, Migration, and Demography in Russia and Its Border Regions

John P. Ruehl


For centuries, Russian authorities have modified their approach to managing the country’s large, diverse population, held together by an ethnic Russian core. The war in Ukraine has again altered the Kremlin’s strategy of managing its complex domestic demographics.

Despite the absence of a clear definition of “ethnic group,” the term generally refers to people with a common history, culture, and ancestry. Russians are widely considered the largest ethnic group in Europe, and historically they have lived in a multiethnic state where they formed a majority of the population. Within the country’s vast territory, imperial Russia and later Soviet authorities often encouraged internal migration to help populate barren regions for economic exploitation, typically resulting in cooperation and assimilation between ethnic and social groups.

But cultural fusion has not always been possible nor desired, and conflicts and forced population transfers have occurred both internally and in Russia’s border regions for centuries. Since the Soviet collapse, the Kremlin has attempted to enforce a sense of patriotism among its diverse citizenry by synthesizing Russia’s ethnic and national identities, while weakening the links between the two in other post-Soviet states.

Early Russia to Tsardom

The Russian identity begins with the Slavs, a diverse collection of tribal societies with common linguistic, religious, and other cultural ties who settled across Eastern and southeast Europe in the 5th Century AD. The first Slavic-majority state was the Kievan Rus, declared in 882 and centered around Kyiv. Its Viking and Finnic minorities steadily Slavicized through intermarriage and cultural assimilation, and the Rus adopted Orthodox Christianity from the neighboring Byzantine Empire in 988. But the Slavic-majority state soon became weakened by internal political divisions and in 1240 was destroyed by the expanding Mongol Empire. This left Moscow, a small city on the Rus’ periphery, subservient to the Mongol yoke.

After the Grand Duchy of Moscow, or Muscovy, was established in 1263, the young Russian state, defined largely by its Eastern Slavic and Orthodox heritage, expanded across its sparsely populated territories in the west and north over the next two and a half centuries. It steadily absorbed other Slavic and Orthodox communities, as well as several others, into the developing Russian identity.

By the 15th century, expansion into what is now southern Russia and Ukraine brought the Duchy into significant contact with Cossacks. Typically a mix of runaway serfs, hunters, bandits, mercenaries, and fugitives from Eastern Europe, Cossacks lived in militarized yet lightly organized settlements across border regions in Russia’s south and east. Their diverse ethnic origins and semi-nomadic societies prevented Cossack groups from developing a strong national identity. Many, however, belonged to the Russian Orthodox Church and spoke “in dialects of Russian.”

Following the establishment of the Tsardom of Russia under Ivan the Terrible in 1533, Cossack groups became essential to wider Russian military campaigns against regional Tatar groupsWhile Tatar origins are often debated, they have generally been portrayed as descendants of Turkic nomadic tribes who invaded Eurasia with the Mongol Empire and remained there after the empire dissolved in 1368.

The Russian state also sought to reunify what it saw as “Russian lands,” namely the Orthodox and Eastern Slavic populations in modern-day Belarus and Ukraine, including the Cossacks living in these lands. In 1654, Russia signed the Pereiaslav Agreement, facilitating the absorption of parts of eastern Ukraine, and in 1686 it gained additional former territories of the Kievan Rus. Education, intermarriage, and government service also instigated theRussification” of Ukrainian nobility. However, there was significant tension between the relatively autonomous Cossacks and the organized states that sought their assistance and incorporation, including Russia. Cossack groups launched several rebellions against Russia in the 1600s and 1700s, which often spurred Russian serfs and other minority groups to join. Cossack military campaigns against Russia, sometimes in coordination with other states, were also common.

But Russian authorities could offer Cossacks something other states could not—an open frontier. In return for military service, Cossacks enjoyed vastly reduced taxes, freedom of movement, and significant autonomy. Cossack groups steadily helped conquer smaller, often warring Finnic, Turkic, Ugric, and Tatar tribes across Siberia and into Alaska, establishing many settlements that later became major cities. Russian expansion was often brutal, but agreements with local elites permitted conquered communities to retain elements of their culture and assimilate into the empire by accepting Tsarist rule. Russians and Cossacks would also adapt to local cultures, and intermarriage between groups was common.

Russian Empire

Following the establishment of the Russian Empire in 1721, Cossack groups steadily became integrated into Russian military command and proved integral to Russian campaigns to expel local Muslim populations to Russia’s south and west. Between 1784 and 1790, 300,000 Crimean Tatars (out of a population of roughly 1 million) left or were forced to leave the peninsula. Hundreds of thousands of Circassians also left or were forced to leave the mountainous Caucasus region in the 1800s.

In both instances, most displaced Muslims settled in the nearby Ottoman Empire, paving the way for Russian settlers to move in. Yet population transfers in primarily Muslim lands were not universally carried out. In the Caucasus, Russian authorities created alliances with some local communities between the 16th and 18th centuries, who were wary of Ottoman and Persian influences in the region. Russian authorities also sought to use the empire’s Muslim minorities to expand into other Muslim regions. Tatar communities who accepted Tsarist rule, for example, were used as cultural emissaries in Central Asia, building relationships with the local populations as the Russian Empire spread further into this region in the 1700s and 1800s. Additionally, many “noble Russian families were of Tatar descent and there was frequent intermarriage between the Russians and Tatars.”

Lacking the population to hold territory as Russia’s empire continued to expand, Catherine the Great’s second manifesto in 1763 invited European settlers to Russia. Without requiring citizenship and enticed by tax breaks, loans, land grants, and religious freedom, hundreds of thousands of immigrants from Germany, the Balkans, and other parts of Europe moved to the sprawling empire and its new territories over the next few decades, often maintaining their distinct cultures.

However, the rise of nationalism in Europe in the 1800s began to threaten the loose national identity that Russian authorities had nurtured for centuries. Following the emancipation of Russian serfs in 1861, integration problems also arose as the Russian government began giving land only to citizens and began to more forcefully promote Russification. This included introducing conscription and other obligations for non-Russians, expanding the use of the Russian language among ethnic groups, and identifying “potential Russians” in the European part of the empire. Violence against the Jewish population meant that roughly 2 million Jews also left the empire between 1881 and 1914. But because the Russian Empire required a larger population to sustain industrialization and its enormous territory, a net migration of 4.5 million people arrived in Russia from 1860 to 1917. Immigration and territorial expansion meanwhile meant that ethnic Russians went from roughly 77 percent of the population at the time of the establishment of the Russian Empire to roughly 44 percent at the time of the 1897 census.

In addition, Russification policies caused tension with some minority communities and were one of the major causes of the Russian Revolution in 1905. Ethnic violence among minority groups also broke out across the empire, such as the Armenian-Tatar massacres from 1905 to 1907.

World Wars and the Soviet Union

Ethnic tensions persisted even after Russia became embroiled in World War I in 1914. Disputes between Russian authorities and local populations in Central Asia, including over the unfair distribution of land to Russians and Ukrainians, conscription in the Russian army, and other issues, resulted in the 1916 Central Asian Revolt. Thousands of Slavic settlers were killed, while reprisal attacks, famine, and disease saw 100,000 to 270,000 deaths of mostly Kazakhs and Kyrgyz afterward. Ethnic tensions persisted throughout the empire, and many countries and ethnic groups declared their independence from Russia after the Russian Revolution in 1917. The ensuing Russian civil war saw the establishment of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR), or Soviet Union, in 1922. Though Soviet forces were able to recapture much of the Russian Empire’s territories by the early 1920s, Finland, the Baltic states, and Poland gained their independence, while resistance to Soviet rule continued throughout the 1920s in Central Asia.

After consolidating power, Soviet authorities kickstarted a more calculated and ruthless management of the country’s sprawling, multiethnic society. Smaller clan and region-based identities were homogenized in accordance with Soviet nation-building policies, and “by the end of the 1920s people who had not really thought in national terms before the World War [I] found that they now had a national language, a national culture, national histories and national political structures—in short, they had become members of a nation.” Internal borders were established based on ethnic identity under a policy known as national delimitation, followed by Korenizatsiya, or “indigenization,” where minority nations and populations were given significant autonomy as well as power in the national government.

Eventually, 15 major Soviet republics emerged. The Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic (RSFSR), the largest, was further divided into autonomous ethnic minority territories. Both inside the RSFSR and the Soviet Union, Russian cultural dominance was reduced considerably. However, in the 1930s, Soviet political leader Joseph Stalin reversed much of this process to harness Russian nationalism and consolidate power against separatist-inclined republics and regions. While the specter of “Great Russian chauvinism” was carefully repressed in the Soviet Union until its collapse, power began to be recentralized in Moscow and the “petty bourgeois nationalism” of smaller ethnic groups was also curtailed.

Beginning in the 1930s, Stalin also began large-scale forced population transfers of entire ethnic groups, which continued during World War II. Mass rail transit systems allowed Soviet authorities to deport more than 3 million people between 1936 and 1952 belonging to 20 social and ethnic groups. Several were largely removed from their “ancestral homelands,” including the Volga Germans, Kalmyks, Karachai, Balkars, Crimean Tatars, and Meskhetians. And whether true or not, many minority groups—among them Chechens, Ingush, and Cossacks—were accused of working with Nazi Germany during the war. Like others, they were sent to Siberia and Central Asia to labor camps or “special settlements,” where hundreds of thousands perished.

Slavic migration to Central Asia also increased during WWII, as populations sought to avoid the encroaching German army. Additionally, the redistribution of industrial capacity to Central Asia during WWII, as well as urbanization, further changed the ethnic layout of the Soviet Union.

Stalin’s death in 1953 largely ended massive, forced population transfers, and most groups were able to return to their ancestral homelands over the next few years. But Soviet authorities maintained the Stalin-era borders to divide and weaken ethnic groups. By avoiding the creation of homogenous republics, they could more easily suppress separatism and compel ethnic groups to require the assistance of the Kremlin to manage their territorial disputes. Soviet authorities also sought to continue redistributing the labor force, and in the years following WWII until the mid-1970s, 2.7 million Russians left the RSFSR to Ukraine, Belarus, the Baltic states, and Central Asia. However, by the 1970s this trend reversed, and 2.5 million Soviet citizens flocked to the RSFSR from 1975 to 1991.

While Russians (and their culture) enjoyed a privileged position of first among equals in the Soviet Union, overt Russification policies were mostly abandoned in favor of “Sovietization,” which instead promoted a non-ethnic national identity. By the 1960s, Soviet sociologists advocated for the existence of a Soviet people “with a shared identity based on common territory, state, economic system, culture, and the goal of building communism.” Yet despite a rise in interethnic marriages, traditional ethnic and cultural ties, as well as grievances, proved difficult to dislodge. Tied by a common east Slavic and Orthodox heritage, Russians, Ukrainians, and Belarusians dominated the Soviet Union’s political structures. Ethnic solidarity could also affect foreign policy—Central Asian soldiers, for example, were initially used during the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979, but due to fraternization with local Afghans, were largely replaced by Slavic troops in 1980.

The synchronization of Russian cultural identity with that of the Soviet one meant Soviet culture steadily lost its appeal among the non-Russian population, while many Russians also grew disenfranchised by the 1980s. And by 1989, the ethnic Russian majority of the Soviet Union had fallen to roughly 51 percent. Growing avenues for ethnic nationalism among minority groups as a result of Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev’s reforms, as well as ethnic Russian frustration with these policies, played an essential role in the Soviet collapse in 1991.

Russian Federation

In the aftermath of the Soviet Union’s collapse, the 15 republics became independent countries. Millions of ethnic Russians returned to the Russian Federation in the 1990s from across the former Soviet Union, in addition to non-Russians who sought to live and work in Russia. Initially from European former Soviet states, migrant groups have increasingly arrived from former Soviet states in the Caucasus region and Central Asia in recent years.

Government authority was decentralized away from Moscow to Russia’s other regions throughout the 1990s. And like other post-Soviet states, Russia was afflicted by demands for greater autonomy from ethnic and social groups, as well as outright secession movements. In Chechnya, Russian troops were forced to secede from the region in 1996 following their defeat in the first Chechen war.

Upon his rise to power in 1999 as acting President Vladimir Putin began reestablishing centralized, top-down rule over Russia. His path to the presidency coincided with the launch of the second Chechen war that brought the region back under Russian control in the 2000s. And while Cossack groups were permitted to reemerge as distinct cultural entities in the 1990s, Putin took more formal steps to reintegrate them into national military command, including using them in Chechen counterinsurgency operations.

Russian officials also became increasingly critical of Western-style multiculturalism. Though cultural and political rights were afforded to non-Russians and Putin warned against promoting Russian ethno-nationalism, the Kremlin has supported the need to build a patriotic identity within Russia through a civic identity of common values and traditions—notably the widespread adoption of the Russian language. Non-Russians would be welcomed in the Russian Federation, but it was ethnic Russians that would “cement this civilization.” The ethnic Russian population has declined slightly since 1989, the year of the last Soviet census. Ethnic Russians composed roughly 81.5 percent of Russia’s population in 1989, 79.8 percent in 2002, and 77.7 percent in 2010. The 2021 census showed a remarkable drop to 71.7 percent, though this can largely be explained by “the declining importance of ethnicity as an identifier in ethnically homogeneous areas, such as the predominantly ethnic Russian oblasts of central Russia”, and the rising number of ethnic Russians declining to declare their nationality.

To complement the country’s political and cultural restructuring, the Kremlin merged several territories in the 2000s, and with the addition of Crimea in 2014, Russia boasted 85 federal subjects. Forty-six are ethnic-Russian dominated oblasts, with 22 republics that are home to an ethnic minority. Additionally, there are four autonomous okrugs or districts (with significant ethnic minority populations), nine krais (similar to oblasts), three federal cities, and one Jewish autonomous oblast.

Ethnicity and 21st Century Post-Soviet Conflicts

Russia’s relatively successful efforts to foment patriotism among its multiethnic population and reforge a powerful, centralized state since 2000 contrasts to some other post-Soviet states. Ethnic rivalries within them have been exploited by the Kremlin to challenge their stability and sovereignty. Alongside using ethnic Russians living outside Russia to achieve these aims, Russia’s own ethnic and social minorities have been primary participants in various conflicts and disputes abroad.

From 1989 to the early 1990s, for example, two Georgian separatist territories populated by ethnic minorities, Abkhazia and South Ossetia, waged wars against Georgian forces. Russia provided Abkhazians and South Ossetians with considerable military and economic aid, which increased after Georgia began drifting toward the West following the 2003 Rose Revolution. As Abkhazia and South Ossetia gained increasing autonomy from Georgia, tensions culminated in the 2008 Russo-Georgia War. In addition to aiding the ethnic separatists, the Russian military employed Cossack and Chechen militant groups against the Georgian armed forces in 2008. In the aftermath, the remaining ethnic Georgian populations were largely expelled from Abkhazia and South Ossetia.

Both Cossacks and Chechens were also utilized by Russia during the 2014 annexation of Crimea and the launch of the proxy war in Russian-speaking eastern Ukraine. Russian-speaking Ukrainians (including Ukrainian Cossacks), ethnic Russians in the south and east Ukraine, as well as those from across the former Soviet Union and beyond, filled the ranks of the pro-Russian separatist groups. These militants maintained a proxy conflict for Russia in Donetsk and Luhansk until the official Russian invasion of Ukraine began in February 2022, and continue to take part in Russia’s ongoing “special military operation.” Additionally, Russia has used non-ethnic Russian minorities within Russia to fight at the frontline of the conflict, and they are reportedly dying at higher rates in Ukraine than their Slavic counterparts.

After reigniting conflicts in Georgia and launching one in Ukraine, Russia has also taken steps to annex their separatist territories. In the years before Russia’s 2008 campaign in Georgia, the Kremlin steadily gave Russian passports to Abkhazians and South Ossetians, a tactic now known as passportization. The need to protect Russian citizens helped Russia justify the war and allowed it to more easily absorb these territories by granting them freedom of movement to Russia. Days after the war had concluded, the Kremlin recognized Abkhazia’s and South Ossetia’s independence in August 2008, and in 2022, South Ossetian leader Anatoly Bibilov declared the region’s intention to join Russia, its “historical homeland.”

And following Ukraine’s lurch to the West in 2014, significant passportization took place in Ukraine. Days before the February 24, 2022, Russian invasion of Ukraine, the Kremlin recognized the independence of Donetsk and Luhansk, likely in anticipation of future calls to join Russia. These two regions were annexed by Russia in September 2022, joining Russia as republics, while two oblasts (Kherson and Zaporozhye) were also annexed from Ukraine by Russia. Russian forces, however, have been unable to establish complete control over all of the claimed territories.

But the Kremlin also sees the Ukrainian war as an opportunity to “integrate” the country’s population with its own amid Russia’s declining population. For centuries, Russian strategists have believed that Ukrainians, viewed as a subcategory of the Russian ethnic identity, could help Russify parts of the country where ethnic Russians do not form a dominant majority. In 2014, more than 1 million Ukrainians fled the country’s southeast to Russia, mostly just across the border. However, in keeping with the Kremlin’s desire to populate other regions, Ukrainian refugees began moving to the Volga Basin, the Ural Mountains, the Far East, and other areas. Since the outbreak of full conflict in 2022, millions of Ukrainians have fled to Russia or been forcibly removed, and have been resettled across the country. Thus, while the war in Ukraine is central to Putin’s foreign policy ambitions, encouraging Ukrainian immigration to Russia is also an important domestic imperative.

Other regions across the former Soviet Union remain vulnerable to Russian attempts to use ethnicity to destabilize them. Since a 1992 ceasefire, Moldova’s separatist region of Transnistria, populated largely by Russians and Russian-speaking Ukrainians, has been under the control of separatist authorities. Additionally, the Soviet 14th Army, which was stationed in Transnistria, was inherited by Russia after the Soviet collapse. Today, its remnants form Russia’s part of the trilateral peacekeeping force (with Moldovan and Transnistrian soldiers) and the Operational Group of Russian Forces (OGRF), which guards old Soviet arms depots in the separatist region. Cultivating pro-Russian sentiment among Transnistria’s Slavic majority, could quickly reignite the conflict. Russian military figures stated in April 2022 that the “second phase” of Russia’s military campaign would annex enough of Ukraine to connect it to Transnistria, though this appears unfeasible for the foreseeable future.

After annexing Crimea in 2014, the Kremlin’s declaration that it would protect ethnic Russians everywhere resonated with many of the millions of Russians scattered mostly in former Soviet states. In Central Asia and the Baltic states, where they are most numerous, ethnic Russians have faced restrictions on the use of the Russian language and other forms of cultural expression since the Soviet collapse, making exploitation easier. Kazakhstan’s roughly 3.5 million Russians make up roughly 18 percent of the total population. Most ethnic Russians migrated primarily to northern Kazakhstan beginning in the 19th century and during the Soviet period, and have significant economic and political power. In Estonia and Latvia, ethnic Russians largely migrated during the Soviet period, and today form roughly 25 percent of the populations in both these countries. In addition to higher rates of unemploymenthundreds of thousands of Russians remain stateless persons in the Baltic states, as their citizenship (and those of their descendants) was denied after the Soviet collapse. Russia has leveraged these realities to help inflame social unrest, such as Estonia’s 2007 Bronze Night incident, as well as wield indirect political representation through Estonia’s Center party and Latvia’s Harmony partySignificant passportization among Russians in the Baltic states has also taken place in the last few years.

Millions of ethnic Russians living in former Soviet states left for Russia in the 1990s and 2000s, reducing the Kremlin’s influence over these countries. However, the Baltic states have seen more Russians immigrate than emigrate in recent years, while more than 200,000 Russians avoiding conscription during the ongoing war fled to Kazakhstan in September 2022. How the Kremlin exploits these changing circumstances remains to be seen. And as in Transnistria, Ukrainian and Belarusian communities in these countries also look to Russia for protection, particularly, in defending the use of the Russian language in their societies.

Predictions

Russia’s ability to use ethnicity for domestic stability and as a foreign policy tool is not without risk. Nurturing ethnic Russian nationalism is unnerving to minority groups and has occasionally led to the eruption of ethnic violence, such as in the city of Kondopoga in 2006 and in Stavropol in 2007. Historical persecution has led to significant emigration even in modern times, which occurred among Russian Germans and Russian Jews in the 1990s. Giving minority groups greater rights could meanwhile instigate secession attempts, while failed attempts to merge additional federal subjects in 2020 demonstrate the limits of Russia’s federal authority.

Russia’s birth rate has rebounded from a record low of 1.25 children per woman in 2000 and was expected to reach 1.8 children per woman by 2020. But it is still below replacement level and there has been a significant population decline in Russia for years. While the population grew slightly during the 2010s, it is again shrinking. Minority groups often have higher birthrates than ethnic Russians, and though no ethnic minority groups equate to greater than 5 percent of Russia’s total population, its various Muslim minorities amount to 10 to 15 percent of the population. Radical Islam came to partly define the Chechen independence movement in the 1990s, and many volunteer Muslim-Russians from across the country arrived to fight against Russian forces. The Kremlin is fearful of a similar situation in the future with its growing Muslim population.

The Kremlin will also have to contend with managing the delicate alliances it has with its minority groups. Clashes were reported in Ukraine between Chechen soldiers and those belonging to the Buryat minority group in 2022, while tension between Cossack groups and Russian nationalists has been evident since 2014. Russia will also inherit ethnic disputes as it seeks to expand its territory. More than 260,000 Crimean Tatars returned to Crimea after the Soviet collapse, reviving historical animosity between them and local Cossack communities. Russia’s war in Ukraine also risks solidifying anti-Russian sentiment in much of Ukraine’s population.

Regardless of these threats, the Kremlin continues to push ahead with its vision to remake Russian society and disrupt its border regions. Russian officials increasingly define Russianness in cultural terms, inviting minority groups to be absorbed more effectively. Highlighting the importance of revered “Russian” leaders, such as Joseph Stalin (Georgian) and Catherine the Great (German) showcase the important leadership roles that non-Slavs have played in Russian history. Russia has also shown initiative in using other elements of minority cultures to expand its influence abroad. Russia has been an observer state of the Organization of Islamic Cooperation Countries (OIC) since 2005, and Putin has promoted the idea of the “similarity of the Russian and ‘Islamic’ approaches to many international issues.” Chechen military personnel have been used in Russia’s military campaign in Syria, while Tatar minorities are often responsible for Russian diplomatic and cultural outreach to Central Asia.

The Kremlin has, however, suppressed minority languages in Russia. This policy forms part of its efforts to promote Russian movies, television, social media, literature, and other media forms to Russify other countries. In 1939, for example, more than 80 percent of all Belarus inhabitants spoke Belarusian at home. By 1989, that had fallen to 65 percent, and by 2009, almost 70 percent of Belarusians spoke Russian at home. In 2017, Belarusian President Aleksandr Lukashenko expressed open alarm over this linguistic evolution, declaring that “[i]f we lose our ability to speak Belarusian, we will cease to be a nation.” But Lukashenko’s need to defeat the widespread protests against him after the 2020 election only deepened his reliance on Russia. The use of Belarusian territory to assist in the invasion of Ukraine and Lukashenko’s cooperation with Putin will now completely isolate Belarus from the West, increasing its dependence on Russia further. The potential for even greater political, economic, and military integration between Russia and Belarus, formalized through the Union State, will only be further augmented by Belarus’ steady adoption of the Russian language.

But the Kremlin’s campaign in Ukraine will remain its most pressing imperative, and it has focused on efforts to alter and weaken Ukraine’s demographics. For example, the war has prompted millions of Ukrainian citizens to leave the country, and the longer they are away, the less likely they are to return. Reports on the forced transfer of Ukrainian minors from Ukraine to Russia have also been apparent since the beginning of the war, and roughly 20,000 Ukrainian children are estimated to have been sent to Russia, according to Ukrainian authorities. In March 2023, the International Criminal Court (ICC) issued arrest warrants for both Putin and Maria Lvova-Belova, the Russian commissioner for children’s rights, in connection with the affair. It is unlikely that either of them will ever be prosecuted, while Russia has stated that the population transfers are part of a humanitarian response to young Ukrainians made orphans by the war. Reducing Ukraine’s population by creating refugees and bolstering Russia’s by transferring orphans further demonstrate the demographic aspect to the conflict.

With centuries of experience in using ethnicity and conflict to redraw borders, the Kremlin has aimed to reconceptualize Ukrainian statehood. Reinforcing the notion that Russians, Belarusians, and Ukrainians are “one people” may help Russia expand its territory through conflict, and reverse its declining population by assimilating millions of potential Russians into the country. Whether this will be worth the consequences of sanctions and isolation from the West for the Kremlin will remain up for debate for the foreseeable future. A clear Russian defeat, however, would have disastrous implications for Russia’s territorial integrity, and would likely inspire greater calls for separatism in Russia not only from ethnic minorities, but also ethnic Russian communities dissatisfied with living under Moscow’s thumb. Thus, like Ukraine, Russia’s fate will depend on the outcome of the war and its ability to consolidate its diverse population once hostilities decline.

Britain’s special forces deployed in Ukraine and at least 19 countries

Jean Shaoul


Ever since the 2014 Maidan coup in Ukraine, the UK has played a leading role in escalating the US-NATO led war against Russia.

It has trained and equipped the Ukrainian army, deployed troops in Eastern Europe on permanent missions or large-scale combat exercises and staged repeated anti-Russian provocations, including sending a British warship into waters claimed by Russia.

Ukrainian volunteer military recruits take part in an urban battle exercise whilst being trained by British Armed Forces at a military base in Southern England, August 15, 2022. Ministry of Defence and British Army as the UK Armed Forces continue to deliver international training of Ukrainian Armed Forces recruits in the United Kingdom [AP Photo/Frank Augstein]

The UK has secretly deployed special forces (UKSF) in Ukraine, even though it is not officially party to the war.

Although the House of Commons must vote for war, special forces, which include the Special Air Service (SAS), Special Boat Service, Special Reconnaissance Regiment (SRR), the Special Forces Support Group, 18 Signal Regiment, Joint Special Aviation Wing and No. 47 Squadron, can be deployed without parliamentary approval and with the government refusing to even list their operations.

The Mirror reported in April 2021 that a “small team of UK special forces” had been deployed to Ukraine in an apparent intelligence-gathering mission on the border with Russia. Two months later, the British Embassy in Kiev released a statement reporting that the UK Minister for Defence Procurement and Deputy Defence Minister of Ukraine had “observed joint training activity of Ukrainian, UK and US special forces,” implying that UKSF were involved in a training operation in Ukraine.

In April 2022, Al Jazeera reported that Russia had announced it was “looking into a Russian media report alleging that the SAS had been sent to the Lviv region in Western Ukraine” to “assist the Ukrainian special services in organising sabotage on the territory of Ukraine.” Just months later, the Daily Star reported that a group of ex-SAS troopers were in Ukraine and had “killed up to 20 Russian generals and 15 of the feared Wagner mercenaries,” the British also having helped to train some Ukrainian troops in ambush methods.

Earlier this year, leaked US military documents revealed that the UK had deployed 50 special forces personnel, including the SAS, to Ukraine, more than half of all the Western special forces in the country from February to March 2023.

Operations in Ukraine are only some of the UKSF’s covert activities. According to research compiled by Action on Armed Violence (AOAV), a London-based NGO, based on leaked reports to the mainstream media, wire services and broadcasters or as the result of operations that have gone wrong, the UKSF has carried out operations in at least 19 countries between 2011 and 2021, including Ukraine, Syria, Afghanistan, Nigeria, the Philippines, Russia, Kenya, Libya, Somalia, Sudan and Yemen.

It can be assumed that these deployments form only a fraction of Britain’s covert operations around the world. They, along with Britain’s arms deals, international defence partnerships and projections of force are part of the UK government’s broader preparations for war.

Not only are special forces activities kept secret, but then Prime Minister David Cameron even authorised their deployment in Syria after the House of Commons explicitly rejected sending troops to the country in August 2013. Three days before the vote, UKSF and Britain’s spy agency MI6 were on the ground there, with European and Jordanian sources stating in 2013 that UKSF had been training rebel forces for a year.  

In the case of Libya, special forces were only revealed as operating with rebel forces against Colonel Muammar Gaddafi in March 2011 when farmers in a remote village captured a team of UKSF and MI6 operatives. Since then, the UK has sent in SF, supposedly to combat ISIL and train Libyan forces alongside US, French and Italian personnel. In 2019, a SAS unit had to be evacuated out of Tripoli and Tobruk after armed clashes broke out.

While Britain’s combat operations in Iraq and Afghanistan officially ended in 2011 and 2014 respectively, the UKSF continued their operations.

In Iraq, while parliament approved airstrikes against ISIL in September 2014, the government gave an explicit commitment not to deploy ground troops that it evaded by deploying UKSF. Prime Minister David Cameron reportedly gave the UKSF “carte blanche” to launch raids against ISIL’s leaders in operations that continued for the rest of the decade. He had sent the first UKSF teams to northern Iraq weeks before the vote on an intelligence gathering mission. Since then, there has been a continuous stream of SAS and SBS operations, with the most recent in 2021. The Daily Mail reported a surge of 100 killings of ISIL leaders in the summer of 2020.

After 2014, UK special forces stayed behind in Afghanistan to fight Taliban and ISIL militants. Despite their mission only “to train, advise or assist” Afghan forces, there are numerous reports of their involvement in lethal night raids in Afghanistan and in Pakistan. Last March, the government was forced to open a public inquiry after BBC Panorama reported allegations that the SAS were responsible for 54 summary killings in Afghanistan in 2010 and 2011, when men were separated from their families and shot dead after being said to have produced a weapon.

There have been multiple reports of UKSF operatives fighting on the Syrian frontline in al-Tanf where there is a US base, Raqqa and near the Turkey/Syria border. Parliament had approved airstrikes explicitly against ISIL commanders but not the deployment of combat troops on the ground. In 2018, there was a rare reporting of a SAS fatality, apparently killed alongside a US commando in a friendly fire incident that Washington originally blamed on a roadside bomb. It is likely that UKSF remain in Syria.

The UKSF have also carried out missions in Yemen over the last eight years in support of Saudi forces fighting Houthi insurgents that took control of the capital Sana’a in 2014. By seconding them to MI6, under the control of the Foreign Office, the government was able to circumvent the European Convention on Human Rights and deny it was supporting the US in its covert missions in Yemen, with UKSF personnel reportedly conducting assassinations near Sana’a.

In May 2019, the government sent two SBS teams to the Persian Gulf, after Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates reported explosive sabotage attacks on commercial vessels passing through the Strait of Hormuz, to monitor Iranian naval activity around the island of Qeshm, close to the country’s naval bases, under the pretext of protecting UK registered oil tankers.

Britain’s main theatre of operations is the Middle East, but it has also fielded SF troops throughout Africa, including in Mali and Algeria. Skirmishes have been reported in Somalia, close to Britain’s military base in Kenya.

UKSF soldiers also went to the Sochi Winter Olympics in Russia in 2016 for “counter-terrorism” purposes. In 2018, SAS reservists were deployed to Estonia as part of the NATO mission in the Baltic states “to deter Russian encroachment,” monitoring Russian military movement over the border.

These revelations come as Britain’s arms exports soared to a record £8.5 billion in 2022, more than double the £4.1 billion recorded in 2021. The two largest buyers, Qatar and Saudi Arabia, are among the world’s most repressive regimes.

Last month, Prime Minister Rishi Sunak travelled to Tokyo with a large trade delegation announcing a new defence partnership with Japan involving the doubling of joint military exercises, deploying the UK’s Carrier Strike Group in 2025, advancing the Global Combat Air Programme and extending Britain’s military reach deeper into the Indo-Pacific.

Last month, Chief of the Defence Staff Admiral Sir Tony Radakin went to India to strengthen military ties and to discuss “industrial collaboration in the aerospace sector.” In March, British and Swedish defence ministers agreed to deepen their collaboration and signed a defence procurement deal as Stockholm prepares to join NATO. Since last July, the Ministry of Defence has announced deals, assistance and missions to Finland, Germany, France, Estonia, Oman, Ukraine, Turkey, Greece, Qatar, Poland, the USA, Ghana and the Republic of Korea.

UK COVID inquiry in crisis as Conservative government tries to conceal pandemic crimes

Robert Stevens


So vast are the crimes committed by Britain’s ruling elite during the COVID-19 pandemic that the Conservative government is all but refusing to co-operate with the official inquiry it authorised.

The UK Covid-19 Inquiry was announced by former Prime Minister Boris Johnson in May 2021. To date over 226,000 people have died due to COVID in Britain. Over a million are estimated to be suffering from the debilitating impact of Long Covid.

Prime Minister Boris Johnson holds a COVID-19 Press Conference with Chancellor of the Exchequer, Rishi Sunak, October 10, 2020 [Photo by Pippa Fowler/No 10 Downing Street / CC BY 2.0]

The first inquiry hearings, examining the UK's resilience and preparedness (Module 1), is set to take place June 13. The first oral hearings of Module 2, dealing with the main decision-making and political governance around the pandemic, are scheduled to start in the weeks to come. The oral hearings are expected to last at least three years, until the summer of 2026.

The inquiry is chaired by former High Court judge, Baroness Heather Hallett, who in 2009 acted as coroner in the inquest of the 52 people killed in London’s 7/7 terrorist bombings.

But before oral sessions are even underway, Hallett’s inquiry was plunged into crisis by the refusal of Johnson, and then the Cabinet Office, to hand over diaries, notebooks and WhatsApp messages from his period in office. The inquiry requested that Johnson hand over unredacted WhatsApp messages sent and received by Johnson from January 1, 2020, to February 24, 2022; unredacted diaries; copies of 24 unredacted notebooks; and unredacted WhatsApp messages sent and received by Johnson’s adviser Henry Cook.

All Johnson initially provided to the Cabinet Office was WhatsApp messages from May 2021, the month he announced the COVID Inquiry and a period well over a year after his initial response to the pandemic during which he advocated the mass infection of the population with COVID through a murderous “herd immunity” policy. This was at the time when Downing Street were working out scenarios that up to 800,000 people could die if such a policy was enacted.

Johnson’s successor, Rishi Sunak, following the short-lived premiership of Liz Truss, is also implicated in COVID crimes, which accounts for the extraordinary refusal of the Cabinet Office to cooperate with its own inquiry. The Cabinet Office gave the inquiry only redacted versions of the limited messages Johnson handed over, leading to Hallett being forced to request the unredacted material using a Section 21 notice under the 2005 Inquiries Act that “provides inquiries with statutory powers to compel evidence.”

In response Sunak’s Cabinet Office took the extraordinary decision June 1 to launch legal action against the Inquiry—via a judicial review—claiming that making the material available would compromise ministers' and other individuals' right to privacy. The legal case argues that Hallett should not have “the power to compel production of documents and messages” that the Cabinet Office claimed are “unambiguously irrelevant to the inquiry's work.”

Following the government’s taking legal action, Johnson—who was removed from office in a palace coup in which Sunak played a central role—moved into damage limitation mode. Last Friday, Johnson wrote to Hallett saying he was prepared to hand over his unredacted WhatsApp messages shared with the Cabinet Office and would also hand over “relevant” material, including correspondence from his old mobile phone, but only if he could obtain access to it. However, it is not clear what is even available any longer from that crucial period in the form of his phone messages.

According to the news site, “The ex-prime minister kept his personal phone number that he had had for more than a decade when he entered No 10 and it was on this number and device that crucial messages were sent as the Covid pandemic unfolded in 2020.” It added, “Johnson was told by security officials to turn off the device and never turn it on again in case it could be hacked by hostile actors, i understands. This means historic messages from 2020 and early 2021 are no longer available to search and the phone is not active.”

Regarding his 25 notebooks, Johnson wrote Hallett that they had been removed by the Cabinet Office and “If the government chooses not to [hand them over to the Inquiry], I will ask for these to be returned to my office so that I can provide them to you directly”.

Johnson’s action prompted the government to threaten that he could lose legal funding for his participation in the Inquiry “if you knowingly seek to frustrate or undermine, either through your own actions or the actions of others, the government's position in relation to the inquiry unless there is a clear and irreconcilable conflict of interest on a particular point at issue”.

Hallett, the COVID Inquiry chair, was obliged to ask a series of extraordinary questions of Johnson. These include:

  • “Please confirm whether in March 2020 (or around that period), you suggested to senior civil servants and advisors that you be injected with Covid-19 on television to demonstrate to the public that it did not pose a threat?”
  • “Did you inform the then Italian Prime Minister, Giuseppe Conte, during a phone call on or around 13 March 2020 that you ‘wanted herd immunity’, or words to that effect?”
  • “Did the then Cabinet Secretary, Lord Sedwill, on 12 March 2020 (or around that period), advise you to inform the public to hold ‘chickenpox parties’ in order to spread infections of Covid-19? What was your response to any such advice?”
  • “In or around Autumn 2020, did you state that you would rather ‘let the bodies pile high’ than order another lockdown, or words to that effect?

As Johnson’s chancellor, Sunak was just as opposed to lockdowns. In his campaign for the leadership of the Tory party in 2022, Sunak stated, “My view is we did go too far, particularly on keeping schools closed… and I would not have a lockdown again. I was very clear in cabinet, I was one of the key voices in favour of opening up [schools].”

Sunak even launched at the height of the pandemic in August 2020, the Eat Out to Help Out scheme at a cost of £850 million to the taxpayer. Denouncing the scheme, which led to COVID infections shooting up by between 8 and 17 percent as people mingled in restaurants, Professor John Edmunds of the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine, and a member of the SAGE committee of government advisors, told the Observer, “it was a spectacularly stupid idea and an obscene way to spend public money.”

The crisis escalated Monday when Elkan Abrahamson, a lawyer who represents one of the inquiry’s key “core participants”, the Bereaved Families for Justice group, said that if Hallett did not receive the evidence she is demanding, “the only logical response of the chair is to resign because she can’t properly do her job”.

The ruling class will do everything it can to ensure that no-one of any significance in political and corporate circles is ever brought to account for the social murder of over 200,000 people and the debilitating, possibly lifelong suffering inflected on those with Long COVID.

Step forward the nominally liberal Guardian, and its sister Observer title, to promote the bona fides of that essential tool of the British ruling elite, the “independent” Public Inquiry.

An op-ed published Sunday by the Observer's chief political commentator Andrew Rawnsley, declared, “This inquiry cannot bring anyone back to life. The service it can perform for victims has been illustrated by earlier inquiries such as those into the Hillsborough disaster, the Bloody Sunday killings and the contaminated blood scandal. One of the vital functions of this public inquiry is to give a voice to the bereaved and supply a form of justice by forcing decision-makers to give account and take responsibility for what they did.”

The fact that the Tories are seeking to neuter an inquiry they established and set extremely limited terms of reference for should blind no-one to the fact that it will do nothing to establish justice, even if it proceeds. After more than three decades no-one was held accountable for the Hillsborough deaths. 51 years have elapsed since the 1972 Bloody Sunday massacre without any justice.

To these cover-ups must be added the inquiry into the June 2017 Grenfell Tower fire deaths which is still underway with the sixth anniversary of the fire later this month. No-one responsible has ever been charged, or even arrested for the 72 deaths at Grenfell, with that inquiry conducted, as is the COVID inquiry, under the 2005 Inquiries Act, which “has no power to determine, any person’s civil or criminal liability.”

Over 150,000 teachers on strike in Romania

Andrei Tudora


More than 150,000 Romanian teachers are engaged in a national strike that started on May 22. The strike is part of a growing upsurge of the class struggle across Europe. Romanian teachers join workers in the UK, Spain, Portugal, France and Germany, who are engaged in mass protests and strikes against austerity. Health care and railway workers in Romania are also engaged in protests against low wages and dangerous working conditions.

These struggles pose sharply the questions of political organization and perspective. Teachers are confronted not only by a Grand Coalition PSD-PNL (Social Democratic Party-National Liberal Party) government but also by the corporatist union apparatus, with the strike developing increasingly against the trade union federations.

A section of the protest march in Bucharest [Photo: WSWS]

Thousands of teachers have gathered in towns and cities across Romania to protest. On the 30th of May, a large rally took place in Bucharest, with over 20,000 teachers as well as many workers and pensioners from the city who joined in support. The rally started in Victory square, the seat of the government, and ended in front of the presidential palace.

The World Socialist Web Site spoke to workers at the rally, who expressed their anger at the situation facing educators and their determination to continue the strike.

Georgeta and Mihaela (left) [Photo: WSWS]

Georgeta and Mihaela work in a special needs school. They were protesting the low wages and the desperate situation of special-needs education, which is starved of funds and threatened with closure.

Ghergina [Photo: WSWS]

Gherghina, a retired teacher, lamented teachers’ declining living conditions over the past decades and said of government politicians that “austerity should begin with them.”

Bogdan from Bucharest [Photo: WSWS]

Bogdan, a teacher from Bucharest, explained that the government is not paying teachers their bonuses or correctly applying the salary law. He said that the strike should continue and that “it is not the union leaders that get to decide when the strike ends. The teachers will decide.”

Suzana and Bogdan from lasi [Photo: WSWS]

Bogdan and Suzana came more than 170 miles from Iasi. They are tired, they said, of the way teachers are treated and of extremely low wages. They were among the teachers that remained in the square into the evening hours.

Union executives went inside to discuss with the president and came up with a scheme of “political guarantees” that they attempted to present as a victory for the workers. Workers shouted down the union bosses and refused to return home at the agreed hour. A few hundred protesters remained in the square for several more hours, in defiance of the unions and the police.

Romanian workers confront a government that is deeply involved in the imperialist war drive against Russia and is determined to impose the costs of the crisis onto the working class.

The grand coalition government, formed officially at the end of 2021, has already presided over the deaths of tens of thousands of people in the ongoing COVID pandemic, and has turned the country into an open-air barracks for the NATO war against Russia in Ukraine. It has built up fascistic forces in the form of the Alliance for the Union of Romanians (AUR) party and elevated them to the status of main political opposition. Romania has made plans for a massive increase of its military, including the purchase of F-35 fighter aircraft, Abrams tanks, submarines, drones and helicopters, at the cost of billions of dollars.

According to Ziarul Financiar, the number of millionaires in Romania has increased sharply since 2016. The country has over 1,800 “super-rich” individuals, the most in the region.

The vast majority of the country’s population, however, has been economically devastated by the cost-of-living crisis that is hitting workers across the world. Romania’s official inflation rate was 16.7 percent last year and 15.5 percent this January, with the highest utilities price increase in the EU, according to Eurostat. According to EU figures, basic food prices rose up to 40 percent from 2021 to 2022.

A starting teacher’s salary in Romania is around €500 and can go up to €850 for senior teachers. Rents in major cities in the country average around €400 for a one-bedroom apartment, with utility prices easily going over €150.

The government has recently passed an austerity law freezing wages, new hiring and spending in the public sector.

The coalition government also passed a new set of education laws, which introduce further standardized testing and impose the implementation of various police measures in schools.

While educators are determined to face off against the government, the greatest obstacle for their struggle remains the trade union bureaucracy.

Union executives like Marius Nistor or Simion Hancescu make thousands of euros a month. Their unions, the FSLI (The Federation of Free Education Unions) and the FSE “Spiru Haret,” have for decades acted as an industrial police arm of the state. The union bureaucracies have refused to organize strikes for 18 years, including in 2011 when teachers were victims of a police campaign during national exams, and in 2021, when school reopening during the COVID pandemic led to a deluge of infections in schools. Hancescu cynically commented at the time for Şcoala9 that the system “lost a lot of value” along with the teachers that died of COVID.

Since the first days, union leaders have scrambled to sabotage the strike. They attempted to end the strike for a one-time bonus of €500, but were contemptuously rejected by teachers, who widely shared calls on social media for a mass exit from the unions.

The government maintained an obstinate and defiant attitude throughout. It has repeated the mantra that there is “no money” and has made a “final offer”—an insulting increase of between €50 and €200 pre-tax, with any further increases to be set over following years. It proceeded to sign the increase into an emergency law on Thursday and announced an end to negotiations.

On June 1, President Iohannis, speaking from Mimi castle in Moldova, where EU leaders had gathered to advance their war aims against Russia, threatened the teachers, implying the government will use strike breakers against them: “How dare they threaten national exams ... After the government gave them everything they asked for, what basis could they have to continue the strike? ... I believe that a lot of educators, who already considered that it [the strike] was too much will go back to school and they are doing a very good thing.”

At the same time, union leaders increased the pressure and announced in the media that their mandate has been “successfully carried out.” They have bitterly denounced teachers and blamed the influence of the fascist AUR party and “political agitators” infiltrating social media for the teachers’ determination to continue the strike.

The trade union federations in health and rail are also working out plans to delay strikes and isolate the teachers. The rail unions have set a date for the strike as no closer than the first of July, while Sanitas, the largest nurses’ union, is in constant talks with the government and aims to squash the strike completely.

5 Jun 2023

Germany: Long prison sentences for attacking Nazis—a political judgement

Peter Schwarz


The Dresden Higher Regional Court has sentenced 28-year-old Lina E. to five years and three months and three other defendants to around three years each in prison. The court determined that the four had formed a criminal organization that targeted, attacked and injured neo-Nazis. Investigations of another 15 suspects are ongoing.

The court suspended Lina E.’s arrest warrant, albeit with strict reporting requirements, because she had already spent two and a half years in pre-trial detention. However, she will have to serve at least one more year in prison if the verdict becomes final.

"Free Lina" graffiti in Leipzig [Photo by Frupa / CC BY-SA 4.0]

The trial against Lina E. and the draconian sentences are politically motivated and serve, in more ways than one, political purposes.

The verdict itself is based on questionable circumstantial evidence, conjecture and the testimony of a dubious key witness. Despite 98 days of hearings, the court failed to produce clear evidence of the acts that led to the defendants’ convictions. In only one case—the attack on neo-Nazi Leon R. in the city of Eisenach in December 2019—was it able to prove an indirect link between Lina E., who was arrested shortly thereafter, and a specific act.

The Federal Public Prosecutor’s Office, which is responsible for crimes against state security (prosecutions are otherwise the responsibility of the federal states), immediately seized upon the case and deliberately inflated it. It had Lina E. flown to the arresting judge in a helicopter like a terrorist, ensured that she remained in pre-trial detention for two and a half years, labeled her a ringleader and demanded a prison sentence of eight years.

The Federal Prosecutor’s Office “knew only one direction,” as a commentary in the taz newspaper put it: “Whenever a woman was at the scene of the crime, it was supposedly Lina E. Whenever there was circumstantial evidence, it was interpreted against the defendants. Authorities even kept for themselves an alibi of one of the defendants, which was lying dormant in the files of the Federal Prosecutor’s Office, either accidentally or deliberately. In any case, it was the defense that had to dig it out.”

The special police commission Soko Linx, which was founded in November 2019 by the Saxon State Criminal Police Office to combat “left-wing extremism,” was, as we reported in an earlier article, “a sort of joint venture between Saxon police and the far-right scene.” Details from the investigation files, including the unredacted names of suspected anti-fascists, were repeatedly leaked to the public via the far-right Compact magazine and Focus Online.

“The investigations and research,” we wrote, “increasingly paint the picture of a police force that is not only close to right-wing extremist elements, but rather itself operates as part of a right-wing extremist network. It appears to be systematically leaking information to right-wing extremists and closely collaborating with them.”

The long prison sentences for Lina E. and her co-defendants stand in stark contrast to the judiciary’s leniency toward violent far-right extremists.

For example, André Eminger was sentenced to only two and a half years in the National Socialist Underground (NSU) trial in Munich, even though he had supported and accompanied Uwe Böhnhardt, Uwe Mundlos and Beate Zschäpe, who committed at least ten racist murders, for 14 years. He left the courtroom a free man.

Two neo-Nazis who in 2018 attacked and seriously injured two photojournalists in Fretterode in the state of Thuringia, got off with a suspended sentence and some community service hours. Judge Andrea Kortus of the Mühlhausen Regional Court justified the lenient sentence by saying that the defendants had mistaken the photojournalists for Antifa (anti-fascist) activists. “In the court’s opinion, it is apparently legitimate to act against left-wing activists and to attack them in the most brutal way,” we commented on the verdict. The converse, as the Dresden court’s verdict against Lina E. shows, is not the case.

From the start the trial against Lina E. and her co-defendants, the state pursued the goal of denouncing and criminalizing any opposition to the far right as “left-wing extremism.”

The fact that the far right is promoted and covered up by the state and, when exposed, handled with kid gloves, has been well known at latest since the exposure of the NSU and the Hannibal Network in the security forces. The extent of far-right violence in Germany is enormous. The Antonio Amadeu Foundation has counted 219 deaths at the hands of far-right perpetrators since 1990. The Federal Criminal Police Office reported 1170 violent right-wing crimes last year, 12 percent more than the previous year. Nearly 600 right-wing extremists with outstanding arrest warrants are reportedly untraceable.

The state of Saxony has long been a stronghold of the far right who enjoy close ties to the highest levels of state and government. There are entire regions terrorized by the far right. In Chemnitz, Saxony, the NSU was able to prepare its murderous attacks undisturbed for years, surrounded by a supportive scene teeming with state informants. The National Democratic Party (NPD) held seats in Saxony’s state parliament for ten years, and the Alternative for Germany (AfD) is now the second strongest party there. In 2018, Prime Minister Michael Kretschmer (Christian Democrats, CDU) defended a far-right march in Chemnitz—as did the president of the secret service (Verfassungschutz) Hans-Georg Maassen; but while Maassen was forced out, Kretschmer remained in office.

The trial of Lina E. was intended to distract from this far-right conspiracy and criminalize opposition to it. The claim that he honored anti-fascist commitment, that it was merely a matter of prosecuting serious crimes, with which Judge Hans Schlüter-Staats opened his nearly nine-hour justification of the verdict, is simply false.

The state prosecutes not only organizations that use violence as “left-wing extremist,” but also those that fight with political means, such as the Sozialistische Gleichheitspartei (SGP, the Socialist Equality Party in Germany). In a brief from the Interior Ministry justifying the surveillance of the SGP by the Verfassungsschutz, the SGP is accused of being “left-wing extremist“ because it fights “for a democratic, egalitarian, socialist society,” agitates “against alleged ‘imperialism’ and ‘militarism’” and thinks “in class categories.”

As soon as the verdict against Lina E. was pronounced, a chorus of voices called for tougher action against “left-wing extremists.”

“We are experiencing a growing radicalization and acceptance of the most brutal violence among left-wing extremists,” claimed the state of Thuringia’s Verfassungschutz president, Stephan Kramer. The violence, according to him, is directed at “political opponents as well as representatives of the state.” Federal Interior Minister Nancy Faeser (Social Democrats, SPD) claimed that authorities were cracking down on the dangers of right-wing extremism, and that in the coming days they would also keep a close eye on the far-left scene.

Verfassungsschutz President Thomas Haldenwang warned that the moment was approaching “when one must also speak of left-wing terrorism.” Saxony’s Interior Minister Armin Schuster (CDU) announced investigations into the left-wing extremist scene: “We will continue to investigate, further uncover the network and are confident that we will be able to bring more criminals to justice.” The security policy spokesman for the AfD in the Saxon state parliament, Carsten Hütter, said the sentence against Lina E. was too lenient and that the judiciary in this case had failed.

Demonstrations against the draconian verdict were banned on the grounds that they could turn violent. In Leipzig, where a large demonstration was planned for Saturday, the Federal Constitutional Court, Germany’s highest court, upheld the ban. Three thousand riot police were mobilized to suppress any protest. When more than 1,000 people then demonstrated—legally—against the ban, the police surrounded them and held them until early Sunday morning.

French National Assembly to examine €413 billion defense spending bill

Kumaran Ira


President Emmanuel Macron’s government has begun examining the Military Programming Law (LPM) for 2024–2030 in the National Assembly. The bill would raise military spending to €413 billion over these years, or 40 percent more than the last LPM for 2019–2025. Debates on the LPM are to finish with a formal vote on the bill tomorrow.

French President Emmanuel Macron, after proposing a substantial boost in defense spending, visits the Mont-de-Marsan Air Base in southwestern France on Friday, January 20, 2023. [AP Photo/Bob Edme]

The LPM is an illegitimate law, imposed by the political establishment against the will of the people, as the LPM is financed by the pension cut Macron has imposed on the French people without a vote and against overwhelming popular opposition. The LPM exposes the argument that the pension cuts, which eliminate €13 billion in yearly pension spending, are necessary to “save” the financing of pensions. In fact, there is plenty of money for pensions. The ruling just wants to spend it on war, not on retirees.

Macron is impoverishing the French people and trampling democracy underfoot in order to slash social spending and direct funds towards building the “European war economy” he has called for amid the NATO war with Russia. Indeed, the €17.7 billion increase in yearly defense spending is largely financed by the €13 billion per year now being cut from pensions.

French militarism depends on the tacit but very real support of the union bureaucracies and their pseudo-left political allies, who since the last mass protests against Macron’s cuts on May Day have postponed action for a month, until tomorrow. The choice of this date also helped Macron avoid a debate on the budgetary priorities and the policy of military escalation that he is imposing on the French people.

Indeed, no nationwide protest against Macron was held until the Assembly had debated the bill and moved to vote on it.

The LPM vindicates the call of the Parti de l’égalité socialiste (PES) to bring down Macron via a general strike. According to polls, two-thirds of the French people want to block the economy via a strike in order to stop Macron’s cuts—and, thus, the financing of the LPM. The struggle to bring down Macron is thus also a struggle against the military escalation that has already produced a NATO-Russia war in Ukraine and threatens to explode across all of Europe.

The LPM sets in place a highly aggressive rearmament policy for the French military. It includes massive spending on cyberwarfare, updating military equipment and modernizing France’s nuclear arsenal.

As parliamentary debate on the LPM began, Defense Minister Sébastien Lecornu said the law “is a sign of the return to harder competition between the great powers, against a backdrop of nuclear proliferation.”

General Jérôme Pellistrandi, the editor of the Revue Défense Nationale, commented on the bill: “It is a significant budgetary effort. It will be useful. It comes amid a double context. There is an extremely fragile geopolitical situation, France’s need to pursue and in fact restart an effort on defense, but also a domestic political situation where the French are being asked to make major efforts to finance their own defense. There is a feeling that these 413 billion euros must be very well spent.”

The military budget, which was already at €43.9 billion in 2023, will rapidly rise to reach 2 percent of France’s GDP. Military spending will rise €3 billion per year until 2027, then €4 billion per year starting in 2028. It would reach €69 billion in 2030, compared to only €32 billion in 2017.

The LPM would give the navy a new generation of nuclear-armed ballistic missile submarines, whose construction is to begin in 2035, and a new aircraft carrier to replace the Charles de Gaulle. Its construction will begin in Saint Nazaire and demand €5 billion. The air force will obtain a new generation of fighter jets, either the Franco-German Future Combat Air System (FCAS) or the Rafale 4.

The law also sets aside €5 billion for drones, €13 billion for overseas interventions, €10 billion for space and cyber warfare and €5 billion for intelligence operations. It also mandates €49 billion for equipment stocks and €16 billion to increase France’s supply of ammunition.

The single largest item of defense spending, with 13 percent of the total budget, is the strengthening of France’s nuclear arsenal. It foresees both the modernization of France’s nuclear missile submarines with M51 missiles and also the modernization of nuclear missiles fired from French Rafale jets.

For over a half century, the French bourgeoisie has claimed that it was defending France via a policy of deterring attacks by holding nuclear weapons. It argued that no one would dare attack France, which has a nuclear arsenal large enough to destroy most of even the largest countries. Launched by President Charles de Gaulle in the 1960s, this deterrence strategy was aimed to guarantee France’s national independence.

All these calculations are collapsing as Washington and NATO wage war on Russia in Ukraine, as a Third World War has in practice already begun. Indeed, this war shows that the simple possession of nuclear arms does not suffice to prevent direct attacks on a country’s territory, or on what its government considers to be its fundamental national security interests.

NATO supported a coup in Ukraine in 2014 to install a pro-NATO, anti-Russian regime in Kiev, provoking a civil war and the secession of several Russian-speaking regions of the country. NATO then began arming its puppet regime in Kiev, which built up vast armed forces, heavily armed by NATO, near its borders with Russia. NATO implemented this policy even though Moscow, which has a massive nuclear arsenal, stressed that it saw this policy as an intolerable threat to Russia.

Finally, when Russian forces invaded Ukraine, Washington and its European allies not only armed Ukraine but applauded invasions of Russian territory by their neo-Nazi Ukrainian proxies. Thus the possession of nuclear arms by Russia has in no way deterred NATO from aggressively waging war on it.

To claim that today one can guarantee French workers’ security by holding nuclear weapons is to deceive oneself or to try to deceive others. The greatest danger, indeed, is that the mounting NATO-Russia war in Ukraine threatens to lead the warring governments to utilise the vast stocks of nuclear weapons that they hold.

The urgent need in this situation is to build an international, anti-war movement in the working class to stop the war escalation and prevent the use of nuclear weapons. Defending the security and the living standards of the workers requires an international political mobilization of the working class. Indeed, no faction of the political establishment is opposing Macron’s policies of austerity and militarism.

The union bureaucracies and their political allies like Jean-Luc Mélenchon’s Unsubmissive France party all remained silent on the LPM or refused to campaign against it. These forces have no perspective to offer to the struggle against Macron’s pension cuts. Indeed, they do not oppose the militaristic policy that Macron needs the pension cuts in order to pursue.