Chechenization of Leninsky Prospekt

Officials of the Southern Federal District love to joke about geography: to what northern limits the North Caucasus extends. In the sense of whether the plains of Stavropol region belong to the Caucasus and whether the left bank of the Don in Rostov is considered foothills. This fall, these hypotheses have faded. In September 2006, the North Caucasus reached the Karelian city of Kondopoga. At its best, with inter-ethnic clashes and rumors of an impending landing of Chechen special forces. Then Chechen Prime Minister Ramzan Kadyrov hastened to calm the worried citizens - it turns out that no business trips of Chechen security officials to the distant northern province of the republic were planned.

But a few days later, without any assumptions, Chechen special forces, formally subordinate to the commander of the 42nd division of the Russian Ministry of Defense stationed in Chechnya, burst into the premises of one of the St. Petersburg meat plants. And he showed his usual front-line toughness there in an attempt to ensure a forced change of ownership. The plant belongs to Chechen entrepreneurs. It was captured by other Chechens - former militants, and now Russian military personnel. This, of course, gave rise to soothing conversations about intra-Chechen disputes: they say it doesn’t concern us. The logic is strange, considering that all the heroes of this story are by no means residents of some exotic overseas territories. The injured entrepreneurs are completely respectable Russian citizens, the attacking special forces are Russian military personnel. Some, by the way, have high state awards.

But Kondopoga, which almost no one in the rest of Russia had heard of until September, and the Chechen raid on a Chechen plant in St. Petersburg - these were still distant approaches. On November 18, there was nowhere to retreat: some Chechen security forces shot another Chechen security official on Leninsky Prospekt in Moscow with a machine gun and several pistols. Officially, this procedure was called detention: Russian FSB officer Movladi Baysarov in Chechnya was suspected of kidnapping and killing several people. Eyewitnesses of this story, that is, ordinary passers-by, for whom the Chechen war, the Chechen world and Chechen politics in general before November 18 were at best a sore picture on TV, claim that there was no detention, but just an execution.

A similar impression arose from the prosecutor’s office of the Southern Administrative District, which opened a criminal case on the facts of the murder of Baysarov and the illegal storage and transportation of firearms: presumably, by Baysarov himself and those who killed him. By the way, the list of Chechen participants in the liquidation of Baysarov is known to Moscow law enforcement officers by name. There are several high-ranking officers of the Chechen Ministry of Internal Affairs. Moscow police were present on Leninsky Prospekt. Despite the opened case, none of their Chechen colleagues have even been detained.

Fifty experts on Chechnya can discuss with each other the reasons for what happened. But for passers-by on Leninsky it is absolutely unimportant who Movladi Baysarov was during his life, why he quarreled with Ramzan Kadyrov and how he incurred such burning hatred from his fellow tribesmen that they chose to shoot him point-blank rather than take him alive and bring him to trial. Passers-by from Leninsky simply found themselves in the Chechen war for several minutes and thus had the opportunity to become convinced of the dubious quality of the peaceful life being established in Chechnya. The world is seething so intensely that the splashes from under the lid of the pot reach the Moscow sidewalks.

The operation of the Chechen security forces against Baysarov is in the order of things for some Kurchaloy, but this does not mean at all that the rest of Russia should turn into the vicinity of Kurchaloy. Although sociologists warned about this likely scenario, when in Chechnya, to the applause of a large part of Russian voters, first the second campaign itself began, and then the so-called Chechenization, that is, when the Chechens themselves are fighting with the Chechens.

The Chechenization of Leninsky Prospekt in Moscow looks no less scary than the explosion of a homemade bomb on a metro train or a suicide bomber in the crowd at the entrance to a rock concert. The bomb was brought by enemies who deceived the state and killed civilians. The murder of Baysarov, fortunately, resulted in no civilian casualties, except for the frightened taxi driver. But it simply could not do without someone’s high sanction. For several months, while this sanction was not given, the Chechen commander Baysarov was alive, traveling around Moscow with a security escort and creating an image for himself as a political opponent of the Chechen Prime Minister Kadyrov. And then other Chechen commanders were apparently allowed to kill him.

Probably, someone who is responsible for peace in Chechnya in Russia can explain why everything happened the way it did. Although this is also not a fact. A friend of mine, who works in entertainment television, rarely watches the news and certainly does not delve into the situation in the Caucasus, accidentally saw a news release the day after Baysarov’s death. There, in one story in a row, they showed the Prime Minister of Chechnya Kadyrov, who praised the police for eliminating a dangerous criminal, and the President of Chechnya Alkhanov, who expressed condolences to the family of the deceased and recalled his military achievements. My friend, who usually does not watch television news because he knows how carefully its content is now verified, was extremely puzzled by these diametrical assessments. “Do they themselves understand what is happening there, in this Chechnya?” he asked. It’s not clear in what case it’s more scary for us to walk along Leninsky - if they understand or if they don’t.

Ivan SUKHOV