In the Ruins of Grozny

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Amid all the misery of life here, two features stand out as the source of particular fear, bitterness and unhappiness. Zachistki — house-to-house raids — and checkpoints. The official Russian media describes zachistki as the surgical removal of dangerous criminals. In fact they are usually terrifying affairs that last hours as troops move from house to house in whole districts of the city. Zachistki are "total arbitrary abuse," said Rizvan Masayev, the head of Staraya Sunzha district, one of the most frequently raided parts of the city. When he tried to remonstrate during one recent operation, he was given short shrift. "I don't care if you're Putin, up against the wall," a soldier told him. During zachistki, people repeatedly say, the troops take anything they want. The routine is always the same: a soldier asks where is the "documentation" for a television, a radio, a cassette player. No documentation, and the item goes. They also take people. Early in the morning of Jan. 30, Kharon Khattuyev lost his 22-year-old son Zelimkhan during a zachistka. The choice was baffling — Zelimkhan is a policeman on the security detail of one of the top officials in the Grozny local administration. "If they want peace, why are they doing this?" asked Kharon, who is still trying to find his son.

Kharon's chances of success are not high. A Chechen law enforcement official who fought alongside the Russians in several attempts to overthrow secessionist regimes here — but who now despairs at Russian brutality — he says that many detainees are "doomed" if the army or the security forces hold them for more than 10 days. After arrest they are taken to the massive Russian military headquarters at Khankala, just outside the city, or to smaller bases. There they are often kept in pits — literally holes dug in the ground — or zindan (underground cells), said another Chechen, a senior official of the current Russian-appointed government. "Each unit has its own zindan," he said. "The army, the FSB (security services), GRU (military intelligence), special forces."

Under Russian law, detainees should be charged with an offense or released after 10 days. If they are not dead already or ransomed to their families — a prisoner can usually get out for $1,500 to $4,000 — it is easier to kill them, the law enforcement official explained. This, Chechen officials believe, is what happened to the bodies that are gradually being retrieved from a mass grave near Khankala. During a recent visit officials put the number at 51. All of the bodies recovered so far — including five women, several taken straight from their homes, to judge from their clothes — had been shot in the head execution-style, officials say. A few had had their throats cut. The Russians say they were guerrillas killed in combat. Chechen law enforcement sources are convinced that they were the by-product of the zachistki. The raids may happen once a month, but passing through the 20-odd heavily fortified checkpoints in the city is a daily source of tension. Here people are shaken down for small bribes — pay a little money or spend an hour having your papers checked. Guerrillas have little problem getting through. "For 50 rubles [USD1.80] you could get a nuclear bomb through a checkpoint," says a lecturer, Tamara Dzhambekova. But for people who earn perhaps 300 rubles a month (about $11), or nothing at all, it means the difference between eating that day or not.

The effect of all this is to make the presidency of Aslan Maskhadov seem a happy memory. It was not: though a brilliant military commander in the first war with Russia in the mid-'90s, Maskhadov was a failure as President, allowing the country to sink into violence and lawlessness. For the last year he has been on the run, traveling with about 30 bodyguards, rarely staying anywhere for more than a few days, keeping in touch with commanders by satellite phone. Many of his generals have been killed, wounded or captured. But now young guerrillas in Grozny are sounding increasingly confident. They speak of a new offensive to recapture Grozny and other major cities later this year. Meanwhile, they concentrate on building up their arms supplies, killing Chechen "traitors" — those who work for the Moscow-appointed administration — and picking off Russian soldiers.

Most of their work takes place at night, though not all. An hour or so before curfew one recent day, a Russian soldier was foolhardy enough to go shopping in a small bazaar without the usual heavy backup. Guerrillas seized him and prepared to kill him on the spot. Local people urged them not to — not there, anyway, where they risked reprisals from the Russians. His abductors took him to a quiet courtyard and shot him there. Within minutes the market returned to normal. The next morning, no one admitted hearing or seeing anything.

Operations like this are becoming increasingly easy, says a man named Zelimkhan, a businessman turned Islamic fighter who commands three reconnaissance and sabotage teams in the city.

"The most dangerous place in Chechnya for Russian soldiers these days is Grozny," he says with a certain satisfaction. It may become even more hazardous in the months to come. Having spared no expense — in lives or money — to win the war, Moscow is now pursuing with equal singlemindedness a policy guaranteed to lose the peace.