April 13, 2009
Moscow's Tactics In Chechnya Draw On Stalinist Legacy
by Aslan Doukaev
Josef Stalin is dead, but there are some places where you would be
forgiven for doubting it. Consider, for example, Chechnya, one of
Russia's most unstable republics.
The
press releases which flood out from the spin center of Ramzan Kadyrov,
the region's Moscow-backed strongman, are so steeped in Bolshevik
hyperbole that at times, halfway through some particularly egregious
passage, you almost expect the mustachioed specter of Stalin to appear
and sternly wag its finger at you.
Then again, the Soviet
dictator, were he to come back from whichever circle of hell he is in
now, would have a hard time competing for the limelight with Chechnya's
young and adulation-hungry leader.
Since he became the de facto
leader of Chechnya five years ago, Kadyrov has been busily promoting
his own cult of personality, and, unlike some Hollywood stars, he never
worries that the limelight could damage his complexion. Kadyrov's
portraits, with abundant facial hair, look at you from apartment
blocks, office walls, and car windshields. Stalinist in form, the
essence of his personality cult consists of a volatile mixture of
oriental despotism and a thuggish need for recognition.
Those
who have shaped Russia's Chechnya policy over the past decade seem to
have closely studied Stalin's methodology in responding to perceived
challenges to his regime. It is as if somebody -- haunted, perhaps, by
the humiliating setbacks Russia experienced in its 1994-1996 war in
Chechnya -- had a eureka moment: "Why not sort out Chechnya the way
Comrade Stalin sorted out Western Ukraine, or the Baltic states, or
even, in the 1940s, Chechnya itself?"
The legacy of Joseph
Stalin, who, incidentally, last year came within a whisker of being
voted the greatest Russian of all time by Russian TV viewers, permeates
the counter-insurgency strategy employed by the Russian forces in the
second Chechen war that began in 1999. That strategy -- modified to
suit the context and realities of the day -- combines a coordinated
political and military response with nonconventional tactics that
include propaganda, information warfare, economic action, internments,
mop-up operations, "counter-hostage-taking," and, crucially, co-opting
local groups and clans.
Putin’s Gamble
In
July 2000, then-Russian President Vladimir Putin named Akhmed-Hajji
Kadyrov, the former mufti of the separatist Chechen Republic Ichkeria
and the father of Ramzan, to head the territory's temporary
administration, an appointment Putin may since have come to regret.
Kadyrov Senior, who became notorious in the mid-1990s for his virulent
anti-Russian statements, actively collaborated with the occupying
Russian forces, but at the same time tried to wrest control of
Chechnya, especially its oil and other natural resources, from various
Russian agencies.
Within less than four years, Akhmed-Hajji
Kadyrov managed to consolidate his hold on Chechnya by installing loyal
followers in every position where allegiance was doubtful. And when he
was killed in a bomb explosion in May 2004, Putin had no choice but to
throw his weight behind Ramzan, then head of his father's vast security
service.
With hindsight, elevating a painfully undereducated
young man of 28 to a top post in one of Russia's most unstable region
must have been a difficult decision. But it was one that Putin, who by
that time may have discovered that he had backed himself into a corner
over Chechnya, was simply forced to make. It was a Faustian bargain
that required Kadyrov and his private militia to contribute to the
Russian war effort in return for near-unlimited power and astronomical
subsidies from the federal government.
However, a deal that
ensured Kadyrov's political future at the cost of many innocent (and
some not so innocent) lives was bound to have unforeseen ramifications.
These are now coming back to haunt Putin.
At the end of last
month, a small squad of hit men shot and killed Sulim Yamadayev, a
former loyalist to Akhmed-Hajji Kadyrov, in a parking lot outside his
luxury apartment in Dubai. Yamadayev was for several years the
commander of an elite army unit that hunted down Chechen insurgents for
the Kremlin, but he was dismissed from active duty last August
following a protracted and bitter rivalry with Ramzan Kadyrov.
On
April 5, the Dubai police identified Adam Delimkhanov, a Russian State
Duma deputy and close relative of Kadyrov, who previously occupied a
senior post in the Chechen government, as the person who masterminded
the murder. Delimkhanov, backed by Kadyrov, denied any involvement.
Neither man, however, displayed any visible sign of regret at the death
of their former comrade-in-arms.
Other enemies of Kadyrov have
also been murdered in recent months in several capital cities. These
crimes leave one wondering if Chechnya today is not a replay of the
Soviet Union in the 1930s-early 1950s, when Stalin systematically
killed off most of his critics and rivals for power.
Not even
the most determined detractors of the Russian prime minister have ever
accused him of being a Stalinist. For all his regrets about the demise
of the Soviet Union, Putin understands that Stalinist methods have
proved to be fatally flawed everywhere they have been implemented. Why,
then, does he allow them to be applied, all over again, in Chechnya,
where they are least likely to succeed?
Putin's acquiescence
reflects not only despair at the absence of a loyal and qualified cadre
on the ground, but also sheer Frankenstein-style hubris. It highlights
both Moscow's reluctance to acknowledge the extent and depth of its
failures in the North Caucasus, and Putin's personal shortcomings as a
leader and manager.
Kadyrov has learnt to capitalize on those
failures. Like a lover fearing he could be dumped at any time, he bends
over backwards to convince his Kremlin paramour that any other leader
would pale in comparison. Similarly, Putin seems -- like a tired wife
with a brood of hungry and unruly children -- to have resigned himself
to the fact that he is saddled with Kadyrov and all his pathological
tendencies.
Meanwhile, Chechen exiles all over the world are
bracing themselves for further attacks and further bloodshed, having
suddenly become potential targets in a seemingly unstoppable killing
frenzy.
Aslan Doukaev is director of RFE/RL's North Caucasus
Service. The views expressed in this commentary are his own, and do not
necessarily reflect those of RFE/RL