TWENTY MONTHS ago, Russian forces reinvaded Chechnya. It was a calculated move by the then Prime Minister Putin who knew that playing the tough guy would be a major selling point in the upcoming presidential election. It was; it won him the contest. Nearly two years on, the conflict in Chechnya remains as bitter as ever. President Putin has no military success to brandish to the Russian people.
The Kremlin has tried to present this week’s killing of Arbi Barayev — the separatists’ most militant guerrilla leader, credited with the deaths of hundreds of Russian troops as well the 1998 abduction and beheading of three Britons and one New Zealander in 1998 — as proof that it is winning the war. But the truth is that Russia is no closer to victory today than it was when Putin ordered in the tanks; and most Russians know it. The determination to resist Russian occupation shows no sign of diminishing. Week in, week out, Russian troops and officials of the puppet regime installed by Moscow are killed, usually in bomb attacks.
Officially, at least 3,000 Russian soldiers have been killed since the reinvasion and more than 8,000 wounded, although the real figures are thought to be three times as much. Moscow has to play the numbers game carefully. Although it is well aware that public opinion is weary of the war, knowing it unwinnable, it cannot allow the full truth to be revealed. That would be to admit Putin’s promise of crushing the Chechens to be a reckless failure. It is not so much that Putin does not want to give any opportunity to opposition at home to attack him on the subject. That he can ignore; his turning back of the political clock has sweetened the Communists while the rest of the opposition have either been crushed or have torn themselves apart. What he cannot afford to do is admit to failure. His political credibility depends on being seen as Mr. Tough Guy. So, with the Chechens stubbornly refusing to be defeated and Putin incapable of admitting to failure, the Kremlin has had to fall back on its traditional Soviet-era tactics of pretense and deception.
There is no war in Chechnya, it says, just an anti-terrorist campaign. The trouble is that the international media, as equally war-weary as the Russian public, joins in the deception. Chechnya has became the forgotten war, the forgotten country. And it is likely to remain so until the endgame is in sight. For that Moscow is most grateful. Minimal international coverage of its repression in Chechnya means minimal international pressure to stop it. One chink in this cynical policy could be the hunger strike by a group of Chechen refugees, including five children and 17 women, based in camps in the neighboring republic of Ingushetia. They demand an immediate cease-fire by Russian troops and peace talks between Moscow and the man they still consider to be their president, Aslan Maskhadov.
Five of the hunger strikers are now in a critical condition. This side story contains all the hallmarks of a classical tragedy: The Kremlin is determined to carry on regardless; the hunger strikers to continue to the bitter end. Sadly, this is the sort of human-interest story that attracts the international media’s attention. That is sickening. Yet, if it does end in tragedy, it may bring Chechnya back to the center of international attention, with the pressure back on Moscow to end the conflict.
