Caucasian dominoes

Oct 18th 2005
From The Economist Global Agenda

Gunmen have attacked government posts in a town in southern Russia. As havoc spreads from Chechnya to another part of the north Caucasus President Vladimir Putin’s efforts to bring the troubled region under control look less successful than ever

UNTIL recently, the southern Russian city of Nalchik was a sluggish place where the local authorities more or less kept the lid on ethnic and religious tension. But on Thursday October 13th, gun-battles broke out in the capital of Kabardino-Balkaria, a semi-autonomous republic in the north Caucasus mountains, as rebels linked to the separatist movement in Chechnya attacked federal buildings, police stations and the local airport.

After two days of fighting, Russian special forces overcame the rebels. The police later said more than 90 of the attackers had died, while 35 policemen and 9 civilians were also killed in the attacks. In the midst of the mayhem, witnesses reported bodies being ferried in cars, blasts across the city, helicopters hovering overhead, buildings ablaze and gunmen car-jacking passing vehicles as they tried to flee.

The following Tuesday more gunfights were reported and police claimed to have killed another rebel, a remnant of the force responsible for the attacks the previous week. The renewed fighting came the day after a Chechen rebel website had posted an e-mail purportedly from the Chechen warlord, Shamil Basayev, saying that he had masterminded the attack, carried out by elements of what he called the “Caucasus Front”. He claimed only 41 rebels had died, out of 217 who had taken part in the attacks.

Mr Basayev—Russia's most wanted man—was also behind the attack in September 2004 on a school in Beslan, in the neighbouring region of North Ossetia. Russia's president, Vladimir Putin, was heavily criticised for his slow reaction to the Beslan siege and for the botched storming of the school, where 331 people died, half of them children. This time, he seemed intent not to risk any accusations of tardiness. He quickly ordered security forces to surround Nalchik and kill any gunmen putting up a fight.

Given the self-exculpating misinformation that Russia’s government emits after such incidents, the full details of the attacks may stay murky. But the trend is clear: violence once confined to Chechnya, where in the past ten years Russia has fought two grisly wars against separatism, has spread across the entire north Caucasus region.

There have been gun-battles and sieges in Nalchik before. In February, a three-day siege ended with the deaths of seven alleged perpetrators of a murderous attack on a government agency some months beforehand. But the city was until recently deemed reasonably safe, at least compared with Chechnya's capital, Grozny. Kabardino-Balkaria now looks as brittle and unstable as Ingushetia and Dagestan, Chechnya’s other neighbours, where shoot-outs and killings abound.

It is not surprising that terror and instability have permeated the north Caucasus. It is a region of complex ethnic divisions, within and between republics, and of long-standing but persistent grudges and rivalries. Mr Putin has also inherited a region that has resisted the will of central government since the tsars were in power.

Despite the region’s troubled history, the local and federal authorities must take some of the blame for the events in Nalchik. The tactics used in Chechnya, and then in nearby Ingushetia, have been applied in Kabardino-Balkaria too, with predictable, alienating results. In the past year, large groups of “suspects” have been rounded up and brutalised; the security services harass and torture with impunity. Meanwhile, the corruption which lets terrorists slip across internal borders has crippled the local economy, monopolising business for the elites, creating deep resentment and unemployment, and feeding extremism. Mr Putin last month replaced Kabardino-Balkaria’s veteran ruler with a businessman—perhaps on the dubious principle that already-rich people find it easier to resist corruption.

Mr Putin runs the risk that more and more of the north Caucasus may slip into lawlessness and out of Moscow’s sphere of influence. This and signs of discontent in other of Russia’s far-flung regions will heighten fears that Russia may disintegrate just as the Soviet Union did. Soon after the tragedy in Beslan, Mr Putin attempted to reassert a measure of control. He sent Dmitry Kozak, a trusted aide, to be his representative in the region and to foster economic development. And he announced that regional governors would be appointed by him, rather than through direct elections, in an attempt to wrest back powers ceded by his predecessor, Boris Yeltsin. Given the corruption and unfitness of many of the elected governors, it seemed a reasonable move, though his dubious choices of replacements offer little by way of reassurance.

The attackers in Nalchik gave their verdict on Mr Putin’s efforts to restore order in the Caucusus. They are said to have blown up a monument to Russian-Kabardine friendship. The rebels' dream of a pan-Caucasian Muslim caliphate may be fantasy, but the widening of an arc of pain and instability is all too real.

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