Back into the infernoRussia seems set to start a major ground war in Chechnya. It
could be another disaster By Paul Quinn-Judge/Moscow
October 4, 1999
Web posted at: 12:29 p.m. EDT (1629 GMT)
Imagine losing the Vietnam War, then going back for a replay.
That's what Russia appears to be doing in Chechnya. Three years
after suffering one of the most humiliating defeats in its
history at the hands of a small, improvised army of Chechen
guerrillas, Russia last week was once again in a state of
undeclared war with the mountainous republic. And the conflict
is about to escalate dramatically. The first Russian ground
forces have crossed the frontier, thrusting into two northern
Chechen districts, while Russian commandos--the Spetsnaz--are
reportedly moving into the northeast. In keeping with the best
traditions of Soviet propaganda, Moscow announced that "the
local people" in several Chechen districts are rising up against
Islamic extremists. An estimated 50,000 to 60,000 additional
Russian troops are massed on Chechnya's borders, awaiting the
order to move. Overhead, Russian warplanes continued the
systematic destruction of Chechnya's communications and bridges.
Late last week Russian air force commander General Anatoly
Kornukov said he needed a week to 10 days to finish his offensive.
Barring a sudden diplomatic breakthrough, a major ground war is
about to explode. The Russian military has clamped tight
censorship on its operations, but political leaders have
difficulty containing their glee at the prospect of hitting back
at the unruly, predominately Islamic state that has been
infuriating them for the past five years. Officially, they have
been goaded past endurance by alleged Chechen acts of terrorism,
including the spectacular bombings of four apartment buildings in
Moscow and elsewhere last month. But Chechnya's determination to
secede from Russia is equally a target. When asked about Russian
incursions into Chechnya, Prime Minister Vladimir Putin, the
latest in President Boris Yeltsin's revolving cast of legislative
leaders, gave a sinister little smile and explained that the term
incursion didn't apply. "We don't have a border with Chechnya,"
he said. "Chechnya is part of the Russian Federation." In the
Chechen capital of Grozny, guerrilla leader Shamil Basayev
displayed his own brand of black humor, calling for a massive
hole to be dug in the Russian cemetery on the edge of the
shattered city in preparation for a new pile of Russian corpses.
In Washington the Clinton Administration is following events with
alarm. "We have asked the Russians to clarify their actions and
intentions," says State Department spokesman James Rubin, adding
that the U.S. is urging constructive dialogue on both sides. The
use of force, he says, "will make dialogue that much harder to
occur."
There was something wildly irrational in the Kremlin's thinking,
starting with the notion that a second Chechnya war would be more
winnable than the first one. Three years ago, a demoralized and
disastrously led Russian army was savaged by Chechnya's hastily
assembled guerrillas. The only obvious difference now is that
there are more Chechen fighters. Since the bloody debacle of
1994-'96, the Russian army's disintegration has continued. Budget
cuts and corruption have undermined its strength and reduced
training to a bare minimum, while morale has dropped even lower.
But by some bizarre process of mental alchemy, the top Russian
brass feels it can get it right this time.
One reason for the stubbornness may be that the same military
leadership is in charge in Moscow, and they claim to have learned
from their previous failures. More important, they claim to have
learned from NATO's almost casualty-free successes in Kosovo.
Last week, before a blackout descended on military news, Moscow
TV carried cockpit footage of a Russian smart missile destroying
its Chechen target. It'll be a nice short offensive, General
Valery Manilov of the General Staff declared cheerfully. If the
troops move "energetically," he predicted, "we won't have to
winter there."
Not many others are so optimistic. Russian critics of the
military say the troops are moving into Chechnya too late in the
year. Within a few weeks ground operations will be slowed by mud,
then halted altogether by snow, while air operations will be
hampered by low-hanging mists. "Military strategy says you should
never, never initiate a ground operation with winter
approaching," commented Alexander Zhilin, a former Russian
fighter pilot and now a military analyst for the weekly Moscow
News. "I am afraid there are going to be massive casualties."
Former Prime Minister Sergei Stepashin, a hawk during the last
war, is much more cautious. A ground offensive, he warned, could
lead to "political catastrophe."
Russian commanders have, in fact, learned nothing at all since
the first Chechnya war. Officers and ncos who took part in
battles last month against Chechen rebels in western Dagestan
described their own commanders as corrupt, ill-organized and
incompetent. Sources close to the Spetsnaz, the best-trained and
most combat-experienced soldiers, say they lost officers to
misdirected Russian "precision bombings" in Dagestan. They also
speak of corrupt commanders who allowed Chechen leader Basayev to
buy his way out of Dagestan after a failed offensive, and of
helicopter-gunship crews who were bribed by the Chechens to hit
empty slices of mountainside instead of guerrilla positions.
What's really driving the war machine is not military necessity
or strategic calculation or even the fear of terrorist attack. It
is the Kremlin's politics of survival. Russia's leaders are
waging a war of succession, designed by Kremlin imagemakers to
prove to the Russian electorate that Prime Minister Putin, a
former KGB lieutenant colonel hastily slapped into office by
Yeltsin two months ago, is a real man, capable of leading Russia
as President when Yeltsin steps down next year. The Kremlin logic
is clear: Putin fights a short, brilliant war, his popularity
rockets, and Yeltsin backers pump millions of dollars into the
presidential campaign. Putin is elected and protects Yeltsin's
family and hangers-on from prosecution for corruption. Last week
Yeltsin, once again invisible and by some reports dangerously
ailing, sent out word that he fully approves of Putin's
"decisiveness" in handling Chechnya.
So far the hard line is paying political dividends for Putin. But
columnists and rival politicians have openly voiced suspicions
about the official line that Basayev and his Jordanian
lieutenant, Khattab, were behind the wave of apartment bombings.
Even if Islamic extremists set off the blasts, skeptics say, the
Russian "special services" may have guided their hand. In fact,
Basayev has had a long and murky relationship with Russian
intelligence. By one account he was paid by Moscow to lead a
mercenary group during fighting in Abkhazia, one of the local
wars that flared up in the south after the collapse of the Soviet
Union. In a recent interview with TIME, Krasnoyarsk governor and
presidential contender Alexander Lebed--who negotiated a peace
deal with Chechnya in 1996--said bluntly that Basayev was a
longtime KGB "informer" who, he added, retained "levers of
influence" in Moscow.
But for now, the military mobilization appears unchecked. The
invasion plan has been widely leaked to the press (thus giving
the Chechens plenty of time to prepare). Russian troops are
expected to take over the plains of northern Chechnya, dig in
there, then continue south. They want to push the Chechen
fighters into the mountains by the onset of winter and let them
slowly starve--"put them through the deep freeze," says a military
source. While the guerrillas are withering in the mountains,
Russia will form a government of "healthy political forces," a
Soviet-era term for puppets. This will probably be built around a
handful of undistinguished former Chechen members of the Russian
Duma who have been living in exile in Moscow. There will almost
certainly be no room for current Chechen President Aslan
Maskhadov, the former Russian army officer whom Moscow had once
viewed as a moderate.
The plan is an amazing act of amnesia. Russia has never fully
conquered the Caucasus in all its turbulent history. More often,
its forces have ended up like a certain Comrade Chernoglaz, a
regional Communist Party chief in the 1920s. During a
pacification campaign, he was ambushed and decapitated. At their
trial, his killers were asked what had happened to Chernoglaz's
head. "He had no head," they answered. "Otherwise he would not
have tried to conquer us." --With reporting by Douglas
Waller/Washington and Yuri Zarakhovich/Moscow
An "Ice Head" as President?
Few people had Vladimir Putin marked down as top-leadership
material before Aug. 9, when he was given the Prime Minister's
job. The taciturn 47-year-old KGB man was then serving as head
of the Federal Security Service. Among Moscow politicos, he was
known in the criminal jargon that he favors as one of Boris
Yeltsin's "ice heads," a ruthless enforcer of the President's
will. That quality led to his new job, and it's leading the
country into war.
Yeltsin has given Putin one mission: to become the next
President. The assignment showed the desperation of Yeltsin and
his small cadre of close advisers, known as "the Family."
Corruption investigations are zeroing in on them, and the inner
circle wants a man who can protect them once Yeltsin steps down
next summer. Normally, Yeltsin's endorsement of anyone would be
a kiss of death, but if Putin can emerge as a plausible
candidate, Kremlin backing will be worth its weight in
gold--literally, for the Family has a formidable war chest at
its disposal.
Accordingly, Putin was advised to work on his "young, tough"
image, says a Moscow political insider. Putin has been spitting
out macho sound bites, promising to hunt down terrorists even if
it means catching them on the toilet. The public seems to like
it. In mid-August, 5% of Russians trusted him, according to one
poll. Now his rating stands at 23%.
If Putin stumbles, the Family has another favorite in the wings.
Sergei Shoigu, head of the Emergency Situations Ministry. Even
if the war gets bogged down, the Kremlin may feel it can declare
a state of emergency, thereby canceling next year's elections.
--By Paul Quinn-Judge/Moscow
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Cover Date: October 11, 1999
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