Britain’s poisoned relationship with Russia

WHEN Theresa May stood before the House of Commons on March 14th to set out her response to the use of a military-grade nerve agent to poison a Russian ex-spy, she seemed to describe what was almost an act of war by a rogue regime. The attack, she said, amounted to the “unlawful use of force by the Russian state against the United Kingdom”. The attempt to kill Sergei Skripal, a former double agent—and the poisoning of his daughter and a British policeman—was “an affront to the prohibition on the use of chemical weapons”.

Britain’s ultimatum for an explanation from Moscow had been contemptuously ignored. As a result, Mrs May announced a series of measures against Russia, starting with the expulsion of 23 members of the Russian embassy whom she identified as intelligence officers, the largest such clear-out in three decades (see article).

With a murky assassination attempt (see article), it was always going to be difficult for Britain to muster a credible response. Domestically, Mrs May certainly looked more the prime minister than Jeremy Corbyn, the leader of the opposition Labour Party, who seemed to want to minimise the blowback on Russia. In terms of deterrence, however, Mrs May has yet to rise to the gravity of the situation.

Burden without proof

There may never be conclusive evidence that Russia’s leader ordered the attack. Ambiguity and deception lie at the heart of his regime. Violence is often decentralised; the line between private and state is blurred. Russia, after all, is perfecting hybrid tactics short of overt warfare. All the Russian attacks listed by Mrs May—the annexation of Crimea, the war in Ukraine, the meddling in elections, and the hacking of defence ministries in Denmark and Germany—involved freelancers. That allows Vladimir Putin to claim, however implausibly, that he had nothing to do with them.

But Mrs May is surely right in arguing that the use of a nerve agent suggests either that the attack must have been carried out by the Russian state, or that Russia lost control of its stocks. A proper response must weave together the tools of government—diplomatic, military, intelligence and, crucially, financial. On many of these Mrs May has responded more robustly than Tony Blair did following the fatal poisoning in 2006, with polonium, of another Russian ex-spook, Alexander Litvinenko. She is right, for instance, to take the attack to the UN Security Council, NATO, the European Union and the Organisation for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons. She received plenty of rhetorical support. Action is less likely.

Mrs May can and should do more to go after the money of Mr Putin’s cronies. She should expand the list of Russian figures and entities with which British businesses are banned from having dealings. Those on the current European sanctions lists have so far been mostly linked to the war in Ukraine. The list should more closely resemble America’s register of “specially designated nationals” who are close to Mr Putin and derive their wealth from his favour. Those who loot the country and abuse human rights should be targeted.

The problem is partly one of will. Tougher sanctions may affect Britain’s flagship oil producer, BP, which owns a 20% stake in Rosneft, Russia’s state oil firm whose boss, Igor Sechin, is one of Mr Putin’s closest allies (he is under American but not European sanctions). Britain also worries that more intrusive sanctions will affect the status of the City of London as a global financial centre. That fear is misguided. And yet, Britain’s reluctance to act is likely to lead to impunity. To Mr Putin it will seem like weakness, and that may tempt him to attack again.