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Paradoxes of the war in Chechnya

By Imran Ismailov
Special to Prague Watchdog
Yoshkar-Ola, August 2002

The war in the Chechen territory, which Russia calls its own and is establishing its own order by fire and sword there, has been going on for a number of years. Chechen fighters consider this land to be the independent republic of Ichkeria and see themselves as its defenders from Russian aggressors…

Chechnya is a territory of grief and despair, tears and suffering. The land is lost to Russia only due to the fact that Russia will never be able to force Chechens to love it. Chechnya is lost also for the hundreds of thousands of refugees who have been thrown away outside their homeland by a wave of violence. It is lost for those deprived of their homes and relatives, freezing in tent refugee camps, queuing up for their meager humanitarian rations, secretly wiping away tears of fear for their children. Chechnya is lost for all of those who do not believe that this war will ever end.

The war of the absurd

Six years ago, on August 5th, 1996, at the break of dawn, Chechen fighters took Grozny without resistance. The Russian troops that literally flooded the capital of Chechnya were so taken aback by this sudden appearance of the enemy that they were unable to fight back. Grozny fell, taken by the very guerillas about whom Russian generals had reported to distant Moscow that the separatists have almost been destroyed, the remnant of their troops forced out to remote mountainous areas and successfully blocked off. Thus a paradox of the Chechnya war emerged.

High-ranking army officials just shrugged their shoulders: How could this have happened? Soldiers and officers alike spoke angrily of treason. Moscow, shocked by this turn of events, speedily dispatched General Lebed to Grozny, who concluded the first Chechen war by negotiating the Khasav-Yurt treaty, which had put a definitive end to the myth of the invincible Russian army.

Most likely, time will answer the questions still lingering about the first Chechen war; however, the second war that has been going on for more than three years under the heading of an “anti-terrorist operation“ has only multiplied these questions. The powerful Russian army, equipped with contemporary technology and arms, has not been able to fulfill its task: to scare, break up and destroy the enemy, so sparse in numbers.

The conclusions to be drawn hence by the Russian top brass, the generals and the government, are bitter. The second Chechen campaign, planned out in advance by the Federal Security Service and the Defence Ministry, was all supposed to last a maximum of one year – the military considered the mistakes made in the past, and the preparations this time were thorough.

There are a number of causes for the countless wounds opening in what was once one of the most powerful armies in the world, but one of them can be easily seen by the naked eye. The army, like the Russian society at large, is seriously ill. The war only activated the slumbering malady within and made it even more acute.

The war, started as an operation to get rid of bandits, gave birth to new bandits instead – bandits in uniform. For that reason it has also been called a commercial war. The spirit of avarice took a firm hold on the entire Russian military group in Chechnya, whose main task should be the establishment of constitutional order. However, to enforce the law while negating the rights of the others is simply impossible. This diverse and ungovernable human mass in military uniform, belonging to diverse departments without much of a common command feels full impunity – it kills civilians and runs the profiteering business. The military goes to Chechnya not to establish order, but to make money.

Business is business

The war business begins at checkpoints. Each person passing this lucrative spot has to pay a tax of 10 – 20 rubles. The passage of a vehicle with goods is more costly, about 100 – 200 rubles. If you’re willing to pay, you can cross the republic’s border, in and out, even a cistern of petrol including a guard. All of that has become a norm.

Not everything, however, is measured by money. The unfortunate youths doing their compulsory military service do not ask for much. They need things like bread, cigarettes and the like. One of the soldiers on duty at a checkpoint in the Zhukovski street in Grozny that stopped our car asked us to get for him on our way back a head of cabbage…

The most profitable branch of business, however, is trading in people. During each of the countless mopping-up operations („zachistkas“) there are the detained and the suspect. These are then “worked“ into complaisance and “negotiations“ are carried on with their families. The length of these negotiations then determines the sum of the ransom. It can take various forms – you can buy your way out with arms, which will then figure in military reports as arms captured from the rebellious population in the course of a successful “special operation“.

The military makes a profit on the sale of arms and ammunition. No one cares that the same weapons may turn up in the hands of the guerillas, pointing at Russian soldiers. Business is business. Tales then appear of caravans of arms and streams of dollars coming into Chechnya through the cordon, past border guards.

Each step in the republic promises great profits. During the first war in Chechnya, goods “confiscated“ at the houses left by refugees were shipped to Russia by wagons. These days, the yield is not so high. Still, there is something to acquire. In the course of a „mopping-up operation“ in the house of Musa Muradov, the editor-in-chief of the Groznenski Rabochi newspaper in his native village of Alkhan-Kala, a computer and video equipment were “confiscated“.

At the same time, in Grozny, where the largest military formations are concentrated, attacks take place in broad daylight and soldiers on duty are fired upon. On September 29th 2001, seven large villages in the Shalinski and Kurchaloivski districts were controlled by the guerillas for almost an entire day. In August of this year, groups of Chechen fighters penetrated into several villages of the Urus-Martanovski district and managed to escape, having shot several members of the Moscow-backed Chechen police. Federal soldiers serving at the nearby checkpoint did not appear in those villages until an hour after the guerillas escaped into the surrounding mountains.

The law, and even less so the courts, have for a long time not worked in Chechnya. But how can one speak about the law if the war itself is the supreme lawlessness? The weak pretense to represent the game with Colonel Budanov, who murdered a young Chechen girl, as a court trial is only another proof of this situation.

Apparently, the ineffectiveness of such an army consuming huge sums of the state budget has served as a reason to recall the entire pack out of Chechnya by the end of this year, replacing it with a brigade of the Interior Ministry troops and a division of the Defence Ministry. These will be supported by the growing local police, which already has about 10 000 members. However, at the moment the local police is quite weak, badly trained and insufficiently armed. Nor does it inspire great confidence on the part of the military, since at present the Chechen police is kept busy not so much by fighting the guerillas as by defending the civilian population from federal forces.

The idea to use Chechens themselves to solve the Chechnya question is far from new: it appeared already during the first war in Chechnya. However, being the product of elaboration in remote offices of the Kremlin, the idea suffers from one substantial defect: Chechnya is ruled by ancient traditional law, such as the laws of blood feud, where nothing is forgiven and forgotten: things are just put off temporarily. It therefore needs to be taken into consideration that the Chechen police will struggle against all bandits, both local and outsiders.

Condemned to subsistence

The war that had been brought to the ancient Vainakh territory gave birth to yet another paradox. After centuries of hardships and expulsions, the monolithic Chechen society became divided. One part of the population, rejecting all that comes from outside, believes the guerillas to be the sole power capable of saving them from aggression. The other part, not smaller than the first one, still hopes that Russia will bring peace and democracy to Chechnya, that its present leaders will obey reason and logic and will become the guarantors of law in the long-suffering country and will in the future help build a new, civilized Chechen society. Yet another part of the population is formed by people exhausted by the years of controversy and disillusioned by the deceit of politicians – and therefore leaving homes and escaping the country. Nevertheless, all of them have something in common - they are convinced that the war will not stop anytime soon.

So while peace in Chechnya seems to be a very remote perspective, the population of the country – or rather, what is left of it – is simply fighting to survive.

What do the Chechens live on? Mostly they live off the land. Livestock saves them from starvation. Regardless of all the difficulties of keeping a cow in times of war, for many families it is the sole source of subsistence. Close family ties also help; a poor relative will always find help in the house of another family member or a member of one clan.

Even the threat of death did not extinguish the spirit of enterprise. In every town and village, there are markets, magazines, cafes, kiosks, and the like. People trade in everything that can be bought and sold, from unrefined petrol produced by illegal miniature plants, to nylon stockings. In spite of the danger and obstacles represented by the federals at checkpoints, people travel for their goods as far away as Khasavyurt or Nazran, and even Moscow or Pyatigorsk. In the very center of Grozny, against the backdrop of destroyed buildings, there emerged the town‘s central market, where just about anything can be bought for a low price. If two Chechens meet far away from their country, the first question asked will be: Is the market still in its old place? This market, saving people in the worst times, has become the symbol of the Chechens‘ viability.

However, not everyone can afford to devote himself to trading, which brings a small, but steady income. People mostly live in poverty and struggle in search of any source of income at all. Scarce humanitarian aid, which only with difficulty finds its way to Chechnya, cannot change the situation.

Pensions as well as child benefits amounting to 70 rubles are paid regularly and they are sufficient to get the barest necessities. But what good is a child benefit, say the Chechens, if the small ones tremble at every gunshot, if they have to grow up to the roar of gunfire.

The sorrow of Chechnya is its children. The adults‘ war has turned childhood into a nightmare for most Chechen children. In almost every family there are invalid children. There are many orphans, homeless, begging children; especially in Grozny and Gudermes. Diseases and infant mortality plague the country. The reconstructed hospitals and clinics do not have enough capacity for all the sick, there is a shortage of medicines.

People are trying to rebuild their destroyed homes, but supplies promised by the authorities for the reconstruction of flats and houses arrive irregularly, not to speak of the payment of compensation for lost homes.

The oil industry, the most lucrative item of the country’s economy, is in a poor condition. The „Grozneft“ corporation, once one of the largest companies in the country that had started production again about a year ago, is trying to renew oil extraction, and about ten drills are functioning at the moment. The unrefined oil goes to Novorossiisk each day, and the country is losing out each day because of the lack of an oil-refining plant. The oil-refining plant has been destroyed and there is no money for its reconstruction.

Kadyrov’s administration is trying to negotiate with Moscow that all the payment for Grozneft oil go to the reconstruction of the country, apart from the centralized budgeted funds, but so far the negotiations have been futile. If they can ever succeed is far from clear, since the oil of Grozny is far too desirable an asset. At the moment, it is paid for by Chechen blood.

The country’s industry is trying to get back to its feet, against all odds. The Argun sugar refinery has renewed production, as well as some other plants in Grozny and Gudermes. The effect, however, is small, since there is a shortage of raw material for processing, while it is too expensive to import it. There are abysmally inferior funds for rebuilding the economic infrastructure of the country. The money coming from Moscow is being pilfered before it even reaches Chechnya. This kind of „filtration“ of Chechen money has also become a norm. Chechnya has long since become a black hole where billions of rubles simply vanish. It is entirely written off on account of the war: that is why the war has dragged on for almost ten years.

Expulsion home

Another of this war’s paradoxes is the return of the refugees. Due to Moscow’s initiative, Akhmad Kadyrov and the President of Ingushetia, Murat Zyazikov, have agreed that by this winter around two hundred thousand refugees will return home. The politicians care little whether the people concerned actually want this: it is simply an order.

The citizens of Chechnya who have escaped from the war are now forced to return to it. It is suitable for everyone except for the refugees – it suits Kadyrov, who wants to be seen as the savior of the nation while taking control the stream of humanitarian aid which thus far goes beyond Chechnya. It suits Moscow’s somewhat simplistic chain of reasoning: no refugees equals no war, just a regular „special operation“ against the bandits. It suits Ingusetia who has offered a helping hand to the Chechens in their hour of need, but is now understandably exhausted by the long-term guests, especially if on top of all other problems the federal center accuses Ingushetia of misusing humanitarian aid. But however strange this may seem to the parties of the agreement, the scheme meets resistance from the refugees.

Life in exile, even if it is „just across the border“ in Ingushetia, is far from sweet. At the outset of the second war in Chechnya thousands of Chechens flooded Ingushetia in search of temporary asylum. Some fared better, some worse, especially those who were able to find no other shelter than deserted animal farms or sheep pens. Standing in lines for humanitarian aid, bare survival, illness and the lack of elementary conditions of life – this is the day-to-day reality of refugee life.

However, neither Kadyrov’s promises to build new homes, nor the Ingush police’s threats of dismantling the tents in which the refugees live have had any effect on the stubborn evacuees. They simply refuse to return to a place where one can be shot at, killed, where noone can be guaranteed safety. The Chechen refugees are tired of false promises of help designed to make them return. The Chechen government has actually restored several dormitories and several hundred families were moved there - only to find bare walls and indifference on the part of those who convinced them to return.

The return of the refugees – not their expulsion home – is an inevitable process, and no one understands that better than they themselves. What needs to be addressed, however, is the end to the fighting, and attention paid to the needs of the population, instead of making their return home a political farce.

The shadows of the past and new faces

The war has catapulted new faces into the political limelight, new faces playing their role in the tragic history of modern-day Chechnya. Each of these personalities has left a trace on the troubled path of the Vainakh independence. This journey does not come to an end in the contemporary events, the war has merely given a sharp edge to the question of the future of Chechnya.

Djokhar Dudayev, the first President of Chechnya, or of the so-called Chechen Republic of Ichkeria, an airforce general who became a national leader riding on the crest of Gorbachev‘s democratic reforms, had been throwing his weight around from the very beginning. Tonnes of arms captured by the population after the speedy departure of the Soviet troops as well as the former President’s uncompromising attitude towards Moscow merely hastened the beginning of war. However, the operation Moscow reckoned would be over in 24 hours had dragged on and cost tens of thousands of lives. Dudayev’s liquidation, done in the hope of stopping the massacres, didn’t bring results. The war machine got out of control.

For many, Dudayev, a willful but uncompromising man, remained the first President, pointing the path towards freedom. His kind of romanticism, however, has been dearly paid for by his countrymen.

Salambek Khadzhiyev and Dokku Zavgayev, the country’s leaders in 1995 were no more than Moscow’s pawns. The latter even came up with a theory of „internal conflict in Chechnya“, according to which the Russian troops invaded Chechnya merely to bring peace and harmony. This theory burst apart soon enough, when Chechen fighters took Grozny in August 1996.

The Khasav-Yurt treaty brought to the fore another career soldier, artillery colonel Aslan Maskhadov. His reserved, sensible behavior in the midst of general euphoria of 1996 together with sober consideration of the need to heal relations with Russia and to avoid further confrontation helped him win the presidential campaign against such rivals as Shamil Basayev and Movladi Udugov. The election that took place under the supervision of the OSCE brought him an absolute victory.

The outcome of the election only made more acute the already existing friction between former war allies, finally resulting in immitigable discord. Compromise and unity, so desirable for field commanders pretending to leadership of the country, and so indispensable after Ichkeria and Russia signed an agreement in Moscow postponing the status of the republic for five years – were not to be found. The brittle and instable situation created another paradox: in spite of his nominal status, the legally elected president Maskhadov had little real power. His incapacity to subordinate all field commanders, his weakness and indecision eventually lead to Basayev’s attack on Dagestan, and to the outbreak of the second war in Chechnya.

Basayev used as the pretext for the Dagestan campaign the Shura - the council of religious elders (of which he was the head) and its decision to help fellow believers in their holy war against Russia. This was assisted by the Wahabbi movement which gained power in Chechnya by that time, and that had come from Dagestan in the first place. The Russian intelligence also „did their bit“ in provoking the attack.

The schism could have been prevented once and for all a year before these events. The then Maskhadov’s man, mufti Kadyrov felt that his position as chief Moslem ideologist was threatened by the Wahabbites, and direct clashes between the allies of the President and Khattab have already begun. Many field commanders took Maskhadov’s side, demanding that he banish all foreign emissaries. But Maskhadov, indecisive and afraid of civil war, missed the opportunity. It was here that Maskhadov failed as leader and politician.

No-one was really surprised when Akhmad Kadyrov appeared in Moscow in the midst of the second war in Chechnya. Ambitious and obliging, Kadyrov had a good knowledge of the guerilla environment and was thus the very man for the Kremlin. Ruthless to his competitors, Kadyrov managed to become the head of Chechnya’s administration.

The present leader of the republic, however, is not alone in his desire to oblige Moscow. Before him there were Khadzhiyev and Zavgayev. The role of these political spectres in the events is notorious. But Kadyrov is an even weaker politician, not speaking about his role of a manager. But he does not need to be a skilful politician: as a „great guerilla expert“ he intends to negotiate with Moscow for a long and untroubled rule in Chechnya. Lacking real power and support in Chechnya, Kadyrov intends to hold a referendum on the republic’s constitution, the results of which are known in advance. He nevertheless remains a mere pawn of Moscow, where defectors from the enemy camp are not as popular as he may imagine.

All talks lead to peace?

Russia’s involvement in Chechnya somewhat resembles the situation of a hunter who has caught a bear by the tail. To let the bear loose is dangerous, and to continue holding on to its tail is frightening.

Stuck in the middle of the war in Chechnya, Russia understands there is no way back. At any turn, the campaign threatens to turn into a disaster, whether Russia recalls its troops, or continues the war. Declaring that Khasav-Yurt treaty won’t be repeated, the Kremlin has choosen the latter. This alternative means the militarization of the country under the pretext of modernization of the army. Almost all the people in charge have won their spurs in the war in Chechnya, the best of them will form the future army elite. The Ministry of Finance has been expanding the defense budget considerably. The rhetoric of resurrecting Russia’s lost glory is all based on Chechen blood. We are witnessing the birth of another personality cult in our government, and its rule is becoming more dictatorial.

The guerillas also have nowhere to back out. They nevertheless have concrete aims in mind, as well as the advantage of some moral authority over their enemy. And if we consider that in the midst of all the hardships the divided guerillas still manage to overcome their differences and become unified, it is not difficult to guess that the war will not be over anytime soon.

Does that mean we are in a blind alley? Does that mean there is no perspective of peace in Chechnya?

Peace in Chechnya is quite indispensable to Russia, to the civilian population that has been taking all the weight of the war. However, there can be no peace without unless two essential conditions are met: unless Russia’s government truly comes to understand the destructiveness of this war, and unless the Chechen society is consolidated as a whole. Needless to say, neither the one, nor the other exists yet.

Well-known political scientist Abdurakhman Avtorkhanov admits in his works that the Chechens will only gain true freedom when Russia becomes a truly democratic country.

There is another final and sad paradox of the present war: the future peaceful coexistence of Russia and Chechnya is being negotiated by guns. A road that leads nowhere.

Imran Ismailov is a free-lance journalist living in Yoshkar-Ola.

(T)