Wall Street Journal December 30, 2002 After Years of Fighting Russians, Chechens Turn on Each Other By GUY CHAZAN Staff Reporter of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
GROZNY, Chechnya -- The terror begins as night falls. Sometimes it is just a word -- "traitor" -- scribbled on a piece of paper and thrown through an open window. At other times, armed men burst through the door, killing or kidnapping their prey.
Russians soldiers have come under attack in Chechnya since President Vladimir Putin sent troops back into this rebellious province in the fall of 1999. Today, though, a conflict previously dominated by battles between Russian and Chechen fighters is beginning to mutate into civil war as rebels find a new target: fellow Chechens working for Russia .
"They call us collaborators," said Timur Khamidov, a Chechen serving as a lieutenant in the pro-Russian police force. "They threaten us. They shoot at us. It's a constant struggle."
The violence reached new heights Friday, when a suicide-bomb attack on Chechnya's pro-Russian administration building in Grozny killed at least 61 people, and wounded more than 130 and destroyed one of the city's most heavily guarded buildings. Russian officials blamed the attack on "international terrorists," singling out Chechen warlord Shamil Basayev and an Arab confederate, Abu al-Walid, a member of the Muslim Brotherhood. (In Egypt, the Muslim Brotherhood denied involvement in the attack; Mr. Basayev issued no statement.)
Moscow claims to have full control of Chechnya, and said the military phase of what it calls a "counterterrorist operation" is over. But the next stage -- restoring law and order and bringing real peace -- is pushing Chechens into a new spiral of violence, as Russia tries to build a new administration run by loyalist locals. As the Grozny blast showed, Chechens serving in a fragile pro-Moscow regime are now just as vulnerable to attack as their Russian patrons.
Russia's policy of "Chechenizing" its counterinsurgency operation has many precedents. Foreign powers bogged down in guerrilla wars have often sought to reduce their own casualties by turning to trusted locals. The policy, tried by the U.S. in Vietnam, frequently fails.
Moscow first unveiled the strategy almost two years ago, promising to pull the bulk of its 90,000 troops out of Chechnya and cede power to a civil administration. Akhmad Kadyrov, a former rebel who switched sides in 1999, was installed as local governor and put in charge of tasks ranging from law enforcement to fixing Chechnya's shattered electricity supply.
But the Russians never really fulfilled their promise to reduce troop strength, despite Mr. Kadyrov's pleas. Though no longer engaged in set-piece battles, Russian forces continue to stage so-called zachistki -- sweeps through villages and districts of Grozny suspected of harboring rebels. The brutality of these "cleansing" operations undermined Mr. Kadyrov's authority and alienated many Chechens from his pro-Moscow administration.
That popular disenchantment has fueled the violence. Mr. Kadyrov, who was in Moscow at the time of Friday's bomb blasts, said he has lost count of the number of assassination attempts he has survived. Local counselors, village elders and moderate religious leaders who preach reconciliation with Russia have also been attacked, and many killed. Thirteen local Chechen activists in "United Russia ," the main pro-Putin political party, have been assassinated, the latest in Grozny on Christmas Eve. Lesser officeholders also are targeted: Rebels have killed Chechen tax inspectors, fire officers and schoolteachers.
Most threatened of all are members of the 10,000-strong all-Chechen police force. In October, a bomb blast flattened a Grozny police station, killing 25 officers. Other policemen have been shot dead at home, in front of their wives and children. In all, say officials, 256 Chechen police have been killed since the force was formed nearly three years ago.
Lt. Khamidov serves in a police station protected by stacks of sand bags in northwestern Grozny. Outside, an eternal flame flickers in the wind, next to a monument honoring those Chechen police who have fallen in the line of duty. "We're trying to bring peace here," the officer said. "All the rebels want to do is destabilize the situation and escalate the violence."
He also needs the money. A job with the police force provides a regular income in a region where unemployment has been estimated at 60% and one in 10 people live in extreme poverty -- on €21 ($21.79) or less a month. "I have brothers who need to be put through school," he said. "If they didn't they'd turn into savages."
Other officers, though, sign up to seek revenge. In Chechnya, blood feuds between rival clans can fester for generations; now the police force has been sucked into this cycle of vengeance. "There are many in the police whose relatives have been killed by bandits," said Aslambek Aslakhanov, a lawmaker who represents Chechnya in the Russian parliament. "They join up to avenge their deaths."
The force has been undermined further by rebel infiltration. Col. Salam Salamov, Chechnya's deputy interior minister, said that was particularly severe when the force was first established. "There were a lot of people who worked for us in the day and shot us in the back at night," he said. In recent months, Russia's domestic intelligence agency, the Federal Security Service, has tried to reduce infiltration through careful screening of all applicants.
Still, some Russian soldiers continue to see the Chechen militia not as an ally but as a foe. A special forces officer, who declined to give his name, described Chechen police officers as "bandits in disguise."
Rebels join the pro-Russian security services not only to subvert them from within, but also to gain the protection afforded by a Russian uniform. A Chechen posing as a loyalist policeman -- or as a soldier in the Russian army -- is able to move around freely, a big asset in a region where men of fighting age are routinely stopped, harassed and often detained by Russian troops at checkpoints.
Friday's suicide bombing fits that pattern. Chechen officials said the attackers sailed through numerous security barriers by passing themselves off as Russian servicemen. They wore Russian military uniforms, presented identification papers issued by the local army command and documents signed and stamped by the Chechen government. The two vehicles they drove had military license plates.
At a Russian military gymnasium on the outskirts of Grozny, Gen. Anatoly Kryachkov reviews a group of young men who have signed up for army service. Up to 1,700 Chechens have volunteered so far, with most serving beyond Chechnya's borders. For the authorities, it is a way to integrate the restive region into Mother Russia .
"We have to wean young people away from extremism," said Gen. Kryachkov, Chechnya's military commissioner. "They have to understand that they are all children of Russia ." He's untroubled by the presence of former separatist fighters among the recruits. "Those are of great benefit to us," Gen. Kryachkov said. "They're good soldiers."
But as with police recruits, army volunteers often have little real loyalty to Russia . For Chechen males, frequently suspected of terrorist sympathies, a draft card can be the only way to get the authorities off their backs. "We do this so they can't make our lives hell at the checkpoints," said 22-year-old Islam Sulayev. "It's the only way we can have freedom of movement."
Russia continues to insist that life in Chechnya is returning to normal. Refugees are being urged to return home from tent encampments in nearby Ingushetia. A referendum will be held next March on a new Kremlin-backed constitution, followed by elections for a local president and parliament.
But the government has shelved its plans to pull its troops out of Chechnya: Defense minister Sergei Ivanov said last month that federal forces there number 80,000 men -- only 10,000 fewer than when the Chechenization campaign was first announced. Meanwhile, Moscow said it has lost 4,705 Russian soldiers, officers and policemen since the war started, an average of four deaths a day.
For Col. Salamov, there is one consolation to be found in the lethal attacks on his police force. "We can't be doing our job that badly if the rebels want to kill us," he said.