Is Journalism Worth Dying For?: Final Dispatches (9 page)

“What, in your view, should be the mechanism for a ceasefire?” the Chechens asked.

“That is for the Working Group to decide,” the Mothers replied.

“But the Working Group cannot work while the war is continuing,”
one Mother said doubtfully. “We need a ceasefire. That is the main thing.”

“That is a matter for the Working Group, not us,” other Mothers corrected her.

“We would like to propose two groups of delegates, one from each side, to establish their own ideas about the mechanism for a ceasefire, and then to bring them together.”

“No. Only a Multi-Lateral Working Group with everybody in it. With third-party observers.”

It was fairly pointless trying to discuss anything, and that looked decidedly odd. They had been moving towards this meeting for such a long time, and had presumably been preparing for it. Alas, I cannot write in detail about what was discussed at the Waldorf Hotel. The Mothers insisted I should convey only the gist, which I now do because it is particularly important for anybody who had high hopes for peace resulting from this meeting. The gist was that all proposals from the Chechen side were rejected. Not one made it into the final memorandum. As Ida Kuklina explained afterwards, “We will take them back with us and consider them.”

“And what action will you take?”
Novaya gazeta
asked.

“I don’t know,” Ida Kuklina replied.

“Why do you keep going on at us?” Valentina Melnikova added. “We are ill old-age pensioners.”

“So as to be able to write about this.”

“Write anything you like.”

This too seemed very odd. What had been the point of seeking this meeting if there was no sense of urgency? They had evidently come to London for some other purpose.

In fact, at the Waldorf Hotel flaccidity alternated with bursts of hyperactivity. “We cannot wait for Russian society to reach a consensus,” the Mothers declared. “We have been at the forefront for the past 16 years. We do not wait, we act as the situation requires. The only place where people can come for help is to the Committees of Soldiers’ Mothers.” That is an exaggeration. They are not by any means the only place people can go, even in Moscow. It was followed, however,
by a truly absurd exaggeration: “The generals will do what we tell them to.”

The Chechens were amazed. In that case, why had they not told them to stop the war long ago? Or was that not what they meant?

Zakayev’s group tried consistently to hurry the Mothers along. They tried to persuade them of the need for momentum. Time was not on our side: they explained that radicalism in their ranks was increasing, which it might soon no longer be possible to contain. The overall situation in the North Caucasus was highly volatile. The Mothers, however, were not budging. One thing at a time. “People are expecting a miracle from us, but there is not going to be one.” We heard that repeated again and again.

The Mothers’ belief that taking things slowly was a fundamental principle of popular diplomacy was supported by the observers from European institutions: “We are prepared to provide a venue for further meetings with the same participants somewhere in Strasbourg or Brussels, and we will continue the dialogue.” The European representatives who had flown in specially to London were Vytautas Landsbergis, the former President of Lithuania and today a Member of the European Parliament; and his Belgian colleague Bart Staes. Later, on February 25, they were joined by Andreas Gross, a member of the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe (PACE); Lord Judd, former rapporteur to PACE on Chechnya, and Baroness Sarah Ludford, the main organiser of these Chechen–Russian meetings in London.

They broke up on February 24, having agreed the draft text of a joint London Memorandum which acknowledged the thousands of victims and the fact that the conflict cannot be resolved by military means.

*   *   *

Queen Anne’s Gate is the name of a London street near St James’s Park and here, on the morning of February 25, the parties met in the presence of European observers for a concluding two-hour discussion and press conference, which as a matter of principle was to take place on neutral territory, in the British office of the European Union.

Baroness Ludford presided, firmly and constructively. The aim of the meeting was to finalise a joint statement, the London Memorandum: “The Road to Peace and Stability in Chechnya.” Thanks to the superhuman efforts of the Baroness, it did eventually materialise. The main reason why the London Memorandum was adopted in English is because this was the Baroness’s native tongue and there was no time left to translate it. It was accordingly in the English language that the London Memorandum became part of the history of the Russo-Chechen War of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.

Incidentally, as regards the Russo-Chechen nature of what is going on in the North Caucasus, and the complicated and paradoxical climate of the London meetings, the Mothers spent an inordinate amount of time attempting to lower the emotional charge of the Memorandum’s language. They wanted to make sure that nobody officially labelled the war “Russo-Chechen,” but only, blandly and inoffensively, “this conflict,” in accordance with the Kremlin’s official position to characterise it as an “internal armed conflict.” The fact that the Memorandum will go down in history in a foreign language itself demonstrates that the conflict amounts to something more than an internal matter.

Queen Anne’s Gate closed at 1400 hours Greenwich Mean Time on February 25, 2005. The greatest positive result was that a meeting had at least taken place. For the time being, that is all. The Mothers saw that the other side are not devils with horns, don’t bite, are entirely reasonable and moderate. If on the 24th everything had got off to a nervous, edgy start, it concluded on the 25th with a joint photograph, although even that took some organising. It is to be hoped that these new insights will be taken back with them to the Kremlin. And then? Who knows?

Finally, who was paying for all this? People in Russia traditionally take an interest in that aspect whenever anything is happening in London. Was, perhaps, Berezovsky paying for this junket? Well, this time you can be reassured. I checked. All costs were paid by the European Parliament. The Mothers even handed its representatives their air tickets as proof of expenses. For that we owe the European Parliament a big thank-you, for saving us from damaging rumors.

The text of the proposals of the Chechen side, presented to the Soldiers’ Mothers, was:

Step 1. Ceasefire and fight against terror. The opposing sides, via special representatives, create a mechanism for an immediate ceasefire without preconditions. The Chechen side is ready to co-operate in combating terrorism, both within the framework of bilateral relations and as a part of the international coalition to fight terrorism.

Step 2. Demilitarisation. After an armistice is reached, the removal of Russian troops from the Chechen Republic and the disarmament of the National Militia take place simultaneously. The functions of providing safety are transferred to a temporary peacemaking contingent in connection with this.

Step 3. Transition period. During the period between the ceasefire and elections, the state functions are assumed by a temporary coalition government, created under international control. In questions of providing safety the Provisional Government relies on the peacemaking contingent. (The “Kosovo” option – AP) The legal basis for the creation and working of the temporary coalition government of the Chechen Republic of Ichkeria is the agreement of 12 May 1997. (“Agreement on Peace and Principles of Mutual Relations between the Russian Federation and the Chechen Republic of Ichkeria,” concluded in accordance with the Constitutions of the RF and ChRI. – AP)

Step 4. Elections. Based on the Agreement of May 12, 1997, the Provisional Government prepares and organises direct democratic elections with participation of all political forces of the Chechen Republic under the observation of international institutions.

Step 5. Economic reconstruction. The European Union is called upon to grant large-scale, direct economic aid for the reconstruction of Chechnya.

THE SECRET OF MASKHADOV’S ASSASSINATION. HOW AND WHY THE SECOND PRESIDENT OF CHECHNYA WAS KILLED

September 19, 2005

In the Chechen Supreme Court in Grozny the trial begins this week of those who were with Maskhadov at the moment of his assassination.

Was he killed? Did he commit suicide? Was the body planted? Was it a planned operation or did they happen upon him by chance? It is still debated how and why it was that on March 8, 2005 in the village of Tolstoy-Yurt death came to Aslan Maskhadov, elected President of Chechnya in 1997 and 1999. With the outbreak of the Second Chechen War, it was Maskhadov who led resistance to Russian federal troops and who gradually became the personal enemy of Vladimir Putin.

Before March 8 any conversation with Russian soldiers in Chechnya about Maskhadov and Basayev would conclude with them claiming that everybody knew where Maskhadov was, only the order had not yet been received to bring him in, and that was the sole reason why neither of them was already in prison.

Does that mean that on March 8 the order was finally given? After the killing, both the federals and indeed everybody else started concocting increasingly bizarre and contradictory accounts. He had shot himself. He had ordered his bodyguards to shoot him. He had been killed in a different place and the body had been moved to Tolstoy-Yurt.

Novaya gazeta
is in possession of the case files of Criminal Case No. 20/849, relating to the circumstances surrounding Maskhadov’s assassination. The investigation was conducted by the same team from the Prosecutor-General’s Office as the Beslan cases. Four individuals were held from March to September in the Vladikavkaz pre-trial detention facility and gave evidence in the Prosecutor’s Office of North Ossetia. They are now in the dock in Grozny.

The four accused are: Ilias Iriskhanov, one of Maskhadov’s bodyguards who arranged his accommodation in Tolstoy-Yurt; Vakhid Murdashev and Viskhan Khadzhimuratov, Maskhadov’s bodyguards; and Musa (Skandarbek, according to his passport) Yusupov, owner of No. 2 Suvorov Street, Tolstoy-Yurt where Maskhadov stayed without leaving the house from November 17, 2004 to March 8, 2005). All four are charged under the Russian Criminal Code, Article 209, Part 2 (“banditry: membership of an established armed group”); Article 222, Part 3 (“illegal acquisition, storage, or bearing of firearms, explosive devices, military supplies, under the aegis of an organised group”).

The main question is, why was Maskhadov killed in March 2005, and neither earlier nor later? The whole of the last winter of his life was spent in the expectation that peace feelers were about to be put forward. We now know this is not speculation but a fact.

From the evidence of one of the witnesses: “He (Maskhadov) told me that negotiations with Putin were about to begin. On January 23, Aslan Maskhadov told me he had suspended the war on the Chechen side.” Similar testimony is scattered throughout the case. What were Maskhadov’s hopes based on? Who instilled and fostered them right up until his last day?

We know the answer to that. Mainly it was Andreas Gross, a Member of the Swiss Parliament and former rapporteur on Chechnya to the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe, who visited the Republic under the vigilant monitoring of the Special Operations Executive of the Russian FSB, and accordingly became convinced by the winter of 2004 that he knew all there was to know about Chechnya. Also Akhmed Zakayev, resident in Great Britain, Maskhadov’s Special Envoy in Europe. Also members of the Committee of Soldiers’ Mothers.

Beginning in November, the very time when Maskhadov moved to Tolstoy-Yurt, Mr Gross began shuttling back and forth between European capitals and Moscow, preparing the ground for round-table discussions on Chechnya. He met a number of highly placed individuals, members of the Presidential Administration, and they assured him they were “ready for peace.” The only condition they put to Gross
was that he should cut out all undesirable contacts, by which was meant that his shuttle diplomacy for peace should exclude all those who had been insisting on peace from the inception of the Second Chechen War. Among those deemed unacceptable were most civil rights activists, including the author of these lines. Those who were acceptable were the officials of pro-Moscow Chechnya: Khanid Yamadayev, Alu Alkhanov, even Ramzan Kadyrov, and Mahomed Khambiev, the former Defence Minister of Ichkeria who had defected from Maskhadov to Kadyrov.

Gross was completely sincere and committed to the tasks for “peace” which he had been set by Putin’s Presidential Administration, and to the whole business of shuttle diplomacy entrusted to him. He told me all about it himself in Helsinki during those winter months. The main stopover in his shuttle trips was London, where he assured Akhmed Zakayev that this was the best way to proceed. Zakayev was in constant contact with Maskhadov and it was he who passed on all these hopes of peace and encouraged Maskhadov to believe that the long-awaited negotiations with Moscow might soon start.

In the meantime, the London negotiations of the Union of Committees of Soldiers’ Mothers with representatives of one of the belligerent parties collapsed. They collapsed for the very good reason that the Soldiers’ Mothers suddenly started adopting a hardline position in London, as if blithely unaware that failure was precisely what Moscow wanted from them.

This left Maskhadov with only one potentially promising, but in fact disastrous, way forward to peace: the “path of Gross.” He took the bait. Reassured by Gross’s blandishments, which he heard about from Zakayev and over the Internet, Maskhadov let down his guard and began regularly using a mobile phone. Russia had succeeded in killing his predecessor, President Dudayev, by locating him through his use of a mobile phone, and during all the previous years of the war Maskhadov had never touched one. Now his main method of communication became text messaging.