WHEN the American government announced the names of the Russians and Ukrainians who would have their American assets frozen, officials said that these were the toughest sanctions aimed at Russia since the end of the Cold War. The response from those on the list suggested otherwise. "I don't have accounts abroad," said Vladislav Surkov, one of the architects of Russia's pretend democracy. "The only things that interest me in the U.S. are Tupac Shakur, Allen Ginsburg and Jackson Pollock." The response from American politicians singled out by Russia was equally playful. "I guess this means my Spring Break in Siberia is off," said John McCain, a senator. For Mary Landrieu, a Democratic senator facing a tough race for re-election in Louisiana, a place on Vladimir Putin's blacklist must seem like a blessing. Given that their targets seem so delighted, do these sanctions actually matter?
Compared with the restrained, euphemistic language in which diplomats usually deal, the sanctions announced by America and Europe against individuals for their part in swallowing Crimea are strikingly direct and personal. Very different American presidents have tried similar approaches to dealing with Russia. George W. Bush looked Mr Putin in the eye and got a sense of his soul; Barack Obama tried to reset relations between the two countries. American and European governments have preferred to avoid confrontation with Mr Putin wherever possible. Sanctions were not imposed after the murder in London of Alexander Litvinenko, a former KGB agent, nor in response to Russia's war with Georgia in 2008. So far the measures announced are nowhere near as forceful as the sanctions placed on Iran, which have helped cripple that country's economy. But taking the same approach with Russia would be difficult: its economy is not as isolated as Iran's. Greed and fear play a part too.