Russia and the West explained...

Russia's history is written in blood.

This isn't intended as an insult to the land of Tchaikovsky and Prokofiev, merely a statement of fact. Over the centuries it's been a brutal place. Whereas other nations make war on their neighbours, Russia specialises in slaughtering its own people. From the annihilation of the peasants under the Tsars to the tens of millions killed by the great dictator of the last century. Why is this?

In the largest country on earth, whole areas live in abject backwardness, untouched by the civilising hand of time, let alone television. We scoff at Russian alcoholism and take them for a nation of drunks. But this ignores a harsher truth. The Russian winter is so cold that there's no other way to keep warm. Cut off and freezing, what should the Russian masses resort to - mathematical theorems?

After the victory of the West in the Cold War, the Great Bear retreated to its wintry lair to lick its wounds. But a bear shamed isn't a bear tamed. So what stirs now in the dark forest of the Russian night?

One thing we know. Animals, like people, don't change. The bear born in the wild won't come knocking on the door one day, asking to sit by the fire like a domestic cat. The only means of entry he understands is the sort of force that leaves the door swinging on its hinges.

But force in the twenty-first century lacks subtlety. It's a big thing that can be spotted and squashed. And although animals don't change, they can be trained. What's needed are some new tricks. It seems that the Great Bear has learnt some.

For example, the new Great Bear understands sunshifting technology. If the sun is melting your butter, why move the butter? Why not the sun? If the Constitution prevents you from continuing in office, why move the Constitution? Why not the country? In the past, Great Bears pawed and mauled. You could hear them from miles away. This one is an altogether more dangerous beast.

The West can react in three ways to the tidal wave of Russian money flooding its shores. First, revulsion: "Where does this come from? Is that blood? Sorry - we only take American Express." Second, disdain, the old European way: "OK, you can come in, but you must stand at the back. And don't speak." And third, slavish acceptance; the West's actual choice. An avalanche of bankers, jewellers, estate agents and other purveyors of finery, all tripping over themselves to be of service. Why roar yourself hoarse, when all you need do is throw some meat into the arena? Then, you can watch previously virtuous animals make a spectacle of themselves.

Of course, the West had its oversized-collar wearers and dancers with champagne bottles before the Russians arrived. But how much more pendulous are the collars and heavy the bottles now that they're here? What else would you expect? If you're inclined to this behaviour, the arrival of a five-hundred-foot yacht packed with eighteen-year-old "producees" will have only one effect.

So where does this leave us? And what next? We don't know. But one thing we can be sure. The winter hibernation is over. The Great Bear is awake and he has a plan. History has taught us that once his paw's in the honey pot, he'll want to eat the hive.