The current outburst of tensions over Ukraine is typically described as a replay of a centuries-old Russian tradition of imperial dominance of its neighbors. Yet, beneath this “Russia as usual” façade there might be a truly tectonic shift: For the first time in centuries, it appears that the Russian state does not have a modernizing project. This means nothing less than a reinvention of the Russian state.

Back in the eighteenth century, Catherine the Great insisted provocatively in her programmatic “Instruction” that “Russia is a European power.” Decades later, Alexander Pushkin conceded that the government “is the sole European in Russia.” “European,” here, was synonymous with modernity, and the implication was that most of the country is un-European—i.e., archaic—and that only the government could be relied upon to behave in a European fashion and, perhaps, even Europeanize the rest. A recently released draft of the government’s cultural policy doctrine, however, insists that “Russia is not a European power.” While this and similar statements, readily echoed by the official media, are part of a calculated effort to mobilize public opinion, they also reflect a wider cultural and social change in the country.

Modern Russia began with Peter I, and from that moment on, Russia's society and culture, but also politics, was based on an assumption that Russia and the Russians ought to become something they were not, and that it was the state that had a right and a moral obligation to effect this transformation. Peter famously worked to modernize his armed forces, to build a navy, to introduce the latest European technologies, but perhaps even more famously, he forced his nobles to wear foreign dress and speak foreign languages, to dance foreign dances and read foreign books. These efforts, successful as they were, defined Russia’s social-cultural paradigm for the next centuries: At its core, the country had a cultural gap between the elite and the “people,” with the elite embodying a superior—more modern—cultural model, and the rest of the populace being archaic, backward, and inferior. Most visibly, at the height of the Soviet period, movies and mass culture invariably presented an authority figure: a teacher, an officer, a senior and more “conscious” worker, a Party member. This figure was more educated, more urbane, more cleanly and formally dressed, better able to exercise self-control and self-restraint. He was juxtaposed against “the people” as their role model.

Naturally, the definition of what counts as modern has changed over time. The depth of the desired modernization has also varied. Peter and his successors certainly did not dream of a thorough reformation of the peasantry. The cultural split between different tiers of society was viewed as permanent and necessary, as it followed naturally from the differences in their social and economic functions; the elite were there to shepherd the people, making them more regulated, more industrious, or perhaps, more moral, while preserving their essentially archaic nature. At the later stages, and especially during the early Soviet period, the modernizing project in Russia openly called for a total reconstruction of the lower classes.

That does not mean that the relationship between partners in modernization (the elite—especially some portions of it—the intelligentsia, and the state) was easy. In fact, since the late eighteenth century, their interactions have been somewhat tortured. And yet, it was this partnership in modernization that provided the state and the elite with a mission. Why does the state have a right to dominate the people, to extract resources, to rule without consulting with the people? Because it is modern, and because it leads the archaic people toward modernity. Thus, at all stages, joining the elite meant accepting, at least outwardly, the "modern" ways in everything—in everyday life, dress, social intercourse, work ethics, the law, and individual autonomy.