Halfway to Peace Moscow and the Chechen rebels sign a fragile pact, but the vital sovereignty issue is unresolved
By JOHN KOHAN Moscow
Russia has paid--and caused to be paid--a high price for its eight-month-long war in the breakaway republic of Chechnya. As many as 1,800 government soldiers have died in the conflict, along with 10,000 rebel fighters and up to twice as many civilians. Rebuilding the ravaged capital of Grozny from the rubble left by Russian bombs and heavy guns will alone cost far more than the $1 billion allocated for the entire republic. As many as 350,000 refugees have been left homeless, while 40,000 Russian troops remain stationed in the area, a continuing drain on the national treasury. Moreover, the images of death and devastation have badly stained Moscow's prestige abroad and revived fears of Russian aggression that had abated with the end of the cold war.
Plenty of reason, in short, for the two sides to bring the grinding battle in the predominantly Muslim republic of 1.2 million to a merciful conclusion. That seemed to be happening last week--on paper anyway. After six weeks of tough, off-and-on bargaining, negotiators signed a cease-fire agreement that finessed the intractable question of Chechen sovereignty by setting it aside for a separate round of political talks. The military accord called for an immediate end to hostilities, the exchange of prisoners and a ban on terrorist actions such as the Chechen hostage-taking raid last June on the southern Russian city of Budyonnovsk, where more than 120 people were killed. Russia also pledged a gradual withdrawal of most of its forces in Chechnya in return for the rebels' commitment to hand over their weapons.
The deal was shaky, at best. Hours after the signing, six Russian soldiers were killed in skirmishes with rebels, and sporadic exchanges of gunfire continued throughout the week. Russian Interior Minister Anatoli Kulikov, a member of Moscow's negotiating team, acknowledged that the military pact would not be greeted "with enthusiasm" either in Moscow, Grozny or the Chechen mountains, where rebel leader Jokhar Dudayev was hiding. There were forces, Kulikov said, who were interested "in keeping the fires smoldering, if not blazing." Still, combat fatigue seemed to be spreading on both sides, along with the conviction that a tenuous accord, however flawed, was better than none. Said Chechen military commander Aslan Maskhadov: "In this war, there were no winners."
President Boris Yeltsin nonetheless tried to sound like one in a taped TV address to the nation, his first major public appearance since he was hospitalized last month with a worsening heart ailment. Yeltsin had previously been buoyed by a ruling of Russia's highest judicial body, the Constitutional Court, which backed his use of force against the wayward republic as "absolutely constitutional." On TV the Russian President justified his military decision as "within the framework of international law" but added that the agreement "says a clear and distinct yes to peaceful methods of settling disputes."
Despite Yeltsin's posturing, the real credit for the breakthrough belonged to Prime Minister Victor Chernomyrdin. He had boldly gambled on peace talks over the objections of the "war party" of bureaucrats in the Kremlin and Defense and Security ministries. The hard-liners had been pressing for complete battlefield victory, and still suspect the rebels of using the talks to rearm and regroup.
There was a war party in the Chechen camp too, led by Dudayev, and unlike the Russians, he seemed eager to make the internal rift public. The accord had barely been signed before Dudayev denounced it from his mountain hideaway in a telephone interview with Radio Liberty, accusing the Russians of achieving the cease-fire through "trickery." Then Chechen negotiator Usman Imayev announced that he had been fired by Dudayev, but within 24 hours the mercurial leader changed his tack and supported the agreement.
With such a thin veneer of harmony as support, the fragile military agreement could easily crumble over the pivotal political issue of how much sovereignty the secessionist republic will ultimately gain. Those negotiations, which resumed last week, are fraught with risks for the peacemongers on both sides. After the heavy loss of blood and treasure, Yeltsin can hardly grant Chechnya full independence without raising the question, posed by war critics as various as democratic leader Yegor Gaidar and communist Gennadi Zyuganov, of why the Kremlin launched the costly intervention in the first place.
For their part, Dudayev's more militant followers, now holed up in only a small segment of Chechnya, are unlikely to lay down their arms until they have achieved a complete break with Moscow. While they cannot win a heads-on fight, the rebels could still keep large Russian forces pinned down in a guerrilla war for months, if not years. So whatever grounds there might have been for optimism last week, the final accounting in the ugly little Chechen war may still be a long way off.
"The agreement says a clear yes to peaceful methods of settling disputes." --President Boris Yeltsin
