When U.S. President George H.W. Bush made his famous speech in Mainz about “Europe whole and free,” Russia did not exist as an independent state separate from the Soviet Union. The Bush administration never encouraged the Soviet disintegration; on the contrary, it explicitly opposed it and fully supported President Mikhail Gorbachev’s efforts to keep the USSR alive. However, one can argue that in outlining his vision of “Europe whole and free” on 31 May 1989, the U.S. president addressed not only the captive nations of Central Europe but also the peoples of the Soviet Union itself, including Russians.

In 1989, this appeal looked fully justified and appropriate. Liberal reformers challenged the communist system not only in the periphery of the Soviet bloc but also in its very core. In many respects, Russian liberals were leading the transnational fight against the ancien regime, and the idea of a new democratic and inclusive Europe was no less popular in Moscow and in St. Petersburg than it was in Prague or Budapest. Enthusiasts of perestroika and “the new political thinking” carried on their banners the old Polish slogan “For our freedom and yours.” Their views of the common European future were vague, ambiguous, and romantic, but in most cases, they were not much different from the romantic dreams of Central Europeans.

Today, the predominant perception among liberals in Moscow and in the West is that the concept of “Europe whole and free” has failed for Russia in the most dramatic and explicit way. It was definitely not the only setback for this concept. British liberals are likely to regard Brexit as the main blow to building a truly united Europe. Turkish Westernisers would probably refer to the lack of progress in their country’s accession to the EU. Many in Central Europe are concerned primarily about the rise of nationalism and Euroscepticism in their societies. However, other problems notwithstanding, Russia remains one of the graphic failures of the vision expressed by President Bush in 1989.

Manifestation soft his failure are numerous and unquestionable. Russia has not mustered its relations with NATO or the EU; its political system moves further and further away from European pluralistic democracies; the “pivot to Asia” has become a top foreign policy and economic priority for the Kremlin. After 2014, Moscow and the West find themselves in a state of a protracted political, military, economic, and (dis)information confrontation that brings back memories of the Cold War.

Still, in my view, the perception of total failure is not entirely right. Thirty years of Russia’s integration into Europe have not produced results that liberals on both sides had hoped for. However, today Russia is much closer to Europe than it was back in 1989. The EU remains the largest trading partner for Moscow, as well as the most important source of foreign direct investment, new technology, and modern corporate practices. Russia has many more social and humanitarian links to Europe today than it had 30 years ago in the social and humanitarian sense of the word—just consider the size of the Russian–speaking diasporas in major European cities, the numbers of Russian students in European universities, and the flows of Russian tourists in Europe. Moscow and St. Petersburg look more European (or even global) than ever before. Five years of the crisis in Ukraine have not changed these realities; on the contrary, we have observed a remarkable degree of resilience in relations between Russia and Europe.

Back in the 1980s, the Soviet Union was directly challenging the fundamentals of the Western political and economic systems. Today, the Russian leadership emphasizes its adherence to principles of representative democracy and market competition. Even when deviating from these principles, the country’s rulers have neither the ambition nor capacity to come up with an alternative social project. The official Russian narrative is that Russia stands for “authentic” European values, which Europe itself traded for the dubious benefits of globalisation. The Kremlin might be very critical of European institutions, but it does not have a lot of enthusiasm for leaving the Council of Europe or OSCE. In sum, the 30 years fell short of the inflated expectations of the 1980-1990s, but this time has not been completely wasted either.

On the other hand, the time that passed since 1989 also demonstrated formidable obstacles on the way to Russia’s genuine integration into the Euro-Atlantic space. Some often argue that the only real reason for the ongoing confrontation between Russia and the West is Russia’s behaviour in Crimea and in eastern Ukraine since 2014, and once this behaviour changes, the two sides will be back on track for deeper and more comprehensive cooperation. In my view, the crisis in and around Ukraine was the most dramatic manifestation of the problem but not the only cause of it. Even if we assume (which, in my view, would already be a clear oversimplification of the issue) that the Kremlin is the only side responsible for the crisis in Ukraine, we would have to conclude that by 2014, the crisis was already affordable to the Russian leaders since the relations with the West had already reached historically low levels. The crisis in and around Ukraine demonstrated that since 1989, Russia has not emerged as a major stakeholder to the European security and development systems. If you are not a stakeholder, you are tempted to be a spoiler.

During those 30 years, the two sides tried at least three ways to turn Russia into a stakeholder of a Greater Europe and all three failed for various reasons. The first attempt goes back to the Charter of Paris for a New Europe (the Paris Charter) adopted by a summit meeting of European governments, Canada, the U.S., and the Soviet Union in Paris in November 1990. In certain ways, the Paris Charter was an endeavour aimed at operationalising the vision of “Europe whole and free.” If the participants had implemented the provisions of the Charter in full, and if the OSCE had become the centrepiece of a new collective security system in Europe, Russia could have found a relatively smooth way to become a significant player in such a system. However, the OSCE had never stood up to this challenge. The West had no appetite for creating institutional competition to NATO while Russia did not invest enough energy and political capital to make this approach work. As a result, the legal status of the OSCE remained unclear, and its institutional capacities remained quite limited.

The second attempt was the one undertaken by the West during the period of Russia’s maximum weakness in the mid-1990s to early 2000s. “Europe whole and free” was to evolve as a geographical extension of major Western institutions that served the U.S. and its European allies so well throughout the Cold War. Since Russia, for a variety of reasons, could not join either NATO or the EU, it received special offers from both organisations. NATO came up with the idea of the NATO-Russia Council while the EU agreed to create the “Four Common Spaces” (4CS) initiative for cooperation in various domains. The 4CS was offered by the EU as the second-best option after Russia protested against the EU’s idea of the European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) in which Russia was meant to have equal status with other eastern EU neighbours. It should be noted that unlike the ENP members, Russia had no stated intentions to become an EU member and, therefore, Moscow apparently believed that its positions in the dialogue with Brussels were stronger. At the end of the day, 4CS was offered as a compromise, granting Russia more than most ENP members could hope for.

However, neither of these “consolation prizes” was good enough for the Kremlin. The NATO-Russia Council, even during its best times, was not much more than an information exchange and consultation meeting point while the implementation of the 4CS de facto did not differ in many ways from ENP applied by Brussels to other East European nations. While the ENP became by law a part of the EU’s External Relations Framework, the 4CS remained only a political declaration of  intent without any legal link  to EU policies. For the very same reason, Russia was not included to the Eastern Partnership Programme, built upon the ENP. Dealing with NATO and with the EU, the Kremlin overestimated the importance of general political statements and underestimated the legal and institutional dimensions of the two organisations. In both cases, Russia’s ambitions to have a say—if not veto power—in decision-making on the most important European matters were considered inappropriate and excessive by its Western partners.

Finally, the third pitch came from Moscow and envisaged a “Europe whole and free” based on two pillars—a Western and an Eastern one. In the security dimension, that idea implied close cooperation between NATO and CSTO (the Moscow-led Collective Security Treaty Organisation uniting six former Soviet republics). In the economic dimension, “Europe whole and free” was to include the EU and the EAEU (the Eurasian Economic Union with five member states—Russia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Armenia, and Kyrgyzstan). The West has never considered these proposals in a serious way—both the CSTO and EAEU were regarded not as potential peers to NATO and the EU, respectively, but rather as Moscow-ruled organisations designed to consolidate the post-Soviet space under direct control from the Kremlin.

Most of the specific proposals, suggestions, and plans for integrating Russia into “Europe whole and free” put forward since 1989 fit into one of the three approaches. None of them did the trick. Even if the West and Russia could find a mutually satisfactory compromise on Ukraine (mission impossible under the current political circumstances!), they would have to revisit one of the failed concepts. Today, it would be much more difficult than it was back in 1989—the West is not united on many issues including Russia, the centre of global economic activities has moved from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and the Kremlin’s credit history would be a major problem for at least some of its Western neighbours for a long, long time.

Russia’s current drift away from “Europe whole and free” towards a highly fragmented and partially authoritarian Asia appears natural and unavoidable. Compared to the Kremlin’s failed “European project,” the “Eurasian project” has at least two decisive advantages for Russia. First, Russia’s relations with most Asian countries do not have such a long trail of historical grievances, mutual claims, and negative stereotypes that are typical of relations with many of its European partners. For most Asian countries, Russia does not look like an existential threat, and a negative image of Moscow is not a source of their national identity. On the contrary, Russia is perceived primarily as a major potential opportunity for economic expansion, and there are few opportunities of such scale left on the Asian continent.

Second, unlike the “European project,” the “Eurasian project” is only just beginning. There are no fixed rules of the game yet, no procedures that are set in stone, no powerful bureaucratic structures, the likes of which have long taken deep root in the EU. Moreover, it is not at all evident that the “Greater Eurasia” will copy the cumbersome European constructions: instead of Europe’s bricks, Asia may use light relocatable polymer structures. Therefore, Russia might find it easier to join Eurasian processes as an equal participant, and even a leader in some areas.

One could add that, as partners, the authoritarian or semi- authoritarian regimes in Asia are more comprehensible and reliable than European democracies. Interacting with Turkey’s President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan or China’s Chairman Xi Jinping is easier and more understandable than with President of the European Commission Jean-Claude Juncker or the leaders of individual European states, at any rate in those cases when prompt and specific results are required. In the current highly fluid and poorly predictable international situation, the speed of decision-making is crucial.

However, the Asian pivot has its own, clear limitations for Moscow. In terms of their history, culture, way of life, and basic values, the Russian people are European and not Asian. In most social parameters (demographics, urbanisation, education level, religiosity, social stratification, etc.) the differences between Russia and Europe, particularly Central and Eastern Europe, are not all that significant; in any case, they are much smaller than the differences between Russia and most Asian countries. Russia is part of European civilisation and, therefore, speaking about Russia’s “European choice” is meaningless. This is not a choice, but destiny.

Furthermore, only Europe can be an effective driver of Russian economic and social modernisation—if only for the reason that it has comprehensive scientific, technological, and social potential, the likes of which will not form in Asia any time soon, if ever. More importantly, Europe is truly interested in Russia making a technological breakthrough, as it could give a powerful impetus to its own technological and economic development. A fresh “graft” of Russia’s “wilding” would be more than useful for the still powerful and abundantly fruitful, yet ageing, European tree. At the same time, Asian partners are content to continue using Russia as a reservoir of various natural resources, and at best as a transit corridor. For Asia, the development of Russia’s human capital is not a priority; Asia is keenly interested only in using Russia’s scientific and technological groundwork (primarily in the defence industry), which has been preserved since the Soviet era.

It is only in conjunction with Europe that Russia will be able to preserve itself as a truly powerful actor in global politics. On its own, Russia lacks sufficient potential to claim the role of an independent “centre of power” on a global level. Regardless of the geopolitical constructions that will determine the new “Eurasian” world, Moscow will inevitably play second fiddle to the rising Asian giants (China, India) that significantly outperform Russia in economic growth. Russia’s transition to the “minor league” of Asian politics depends on the rate of depreciation of Russia’s remaining foreign political assets (nuclear weapons, permanent membership in the UN Security Council, and fuel and energy resources). In Europe, on the other hand, Russia will find itself among powers of economically and demographically comparable potential. Moreover, in any development scenario, Russia will remain the largest and most powerful European state—a state whose interests cannot be ignored. Additionally, existing traditions of doing business in Europe, including the emphasis on multilateralism and taking minority positions into account, create more options for Russia than the openly utilitarian and strictly pragmatic Asian practices. The odds are that Asia will not become “whole” or “free” in any observable future, which might put into question both the stability of the continent and the sustainability of Russia’s “pivot.”

In any case, Russia’s turn towards a “Greater Eurasia” by no means equals Russia’s transformation into an Asian state or some puzzling hybrid “Eurasian” country. This is impossible. And even were it possible, it would be pernicious for Russia and for the entire “Eurasian project.” The value of Russia for Asia is precisely that it is different—it is not like most Asian countries. It complements those countries more than it competes with them. Renouncing Russia’s European identity by dissolving it in the currently non-existent “Eurasian” identity would be a national disaster for Russia. Fortunately, such an evolution does not appear feasible.

Instead of futile attempts to construct a phantom “Eurasian identity,” Moscow could consider the positive experience of Australia and New Zealand, which succeeded in fitting into the emerging Asia-Pacific community largely due to their evident economic, political, cultural, and civilizational differences from their surrounding Asian societies. The paradox is that as Russia immerses itself deeper and deeper in the Eurasian context, it will have to focus more on boosting its European nature. This is impossible without active economic, cultural, educational, academic, and social interaction with the EU.

Furthermore, Russia should be interested in a successful European project. Only a strong and consolidated EU is capable of making a significant contribution to the shaping of a truly polycentric (multipolar) world, a very popular topic in Moscow. A weak and disjointed Europe incapable of reaching a consensus within its own borders will always remain an object for Washington to exert pressure on, manipulate in various ways, and even flat-out blackmail. It is the EU’s weakness that stands in the way of Brussels successfully counteracting the new sanctions that the Trump administration is imposing on Iran, or unanimously condemning the decision to move the U.S. embassy in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. Only a weak EU will face the need to join de facto the unilateral anti-Russian sanctions imposed by the U.S. A strong and successfully developing EU is, in addition to everything else, a reliable and promising market for Russian goods, services, and investments (it also means that, among other things, from the point of view of Russia’s economic interests, Brexit is far from being a godsend).

Any international organisation, including the EU, is only as effective or as ineffective as its principal members want it to be. Therefore, placing Brussels in opposition to the capitals of the leading EU countries is quite unjustified. Remove the Brussels bureaucracy and it will be the bureaucrats in Berlin, Paris, and Rome who have to deal with all the unpleasant aspects in Russia–Europe relations. It should be added that for Berlin, for instance, continued European integration is a top foreign policy priority. There is no simpler way for Moscow to ruin its relations with Germany than by demonstrating the desire to undermine European unity or just raise the suspicions of the German people that such a desire does, indeed, exist.

Moscow should have learnt by now that all those Eurosceptics, European right-wing populists, and nationalists are highly unreliable partners. Some of them combine a pointed dislike of Brussels with open hostility towards Moscow. Others, who position themselves as loyal friends to Moscow, in fact use their bold statements of friendship with Russia to bargain with Brussels on other issues that are of greater importance for them. In the five years that have passed since the EU first imposed sanctions on Russia, not one European populist that has come to power has ever officially raised the question of lifting them. There are reasons to believe populists will not do so in future either until the European political mainstream allows them to do so.

In sum, Russia cannot get back to Europe politically or institutionally anytime soon—neither side is ready for compromises that such a shift would require. To manage their mostly adversarial relations, Moscow and Brussels will need temporary instruments and mechanism to reduce the risks and costs of these relations for both sides. However, long-term technological, social, and economic needs, as well as apparent limitations of the “Asian pivot” are likely to gradually change the current political trends. At the end of the day, Russia will get back to Europe, provided that there will still be a Europe to get back to.