Democracy Lab

The No-Show

Edward Snowden missed the flight to Havana. I didn't.

HAVANA — We're waiting for you in Havana, Snowden. Are you on your way?

It's still unclear what happened on Monday, June 24, the day after leaker Edward Snowden arrived in Moscow from Hong Kong. That day, Snowden was supposed to board a plane to Havana to then transfer to Ecuador, one of the very few places willing to shield him from the American officials who regard him as a traitor. He even had a boarding pass for the window seat in row F, in economy class. But he never showed up, and his seat stayed empty.

Was Snowden trapped in the transit zone of Moscow's Sheremetyevo International Airport against his will by the Russian security service, curious to see the data he had in his computers? Or was he afraid of flying in a plane that could be grounded while passing over the United States, where American courts were waiting to lock him up in jail for over 30 years? Until the very moment the Aeroflot crew closed the plane's door, it looked like he was coming: Russian police surrounded Gate 28, patrolling outside and inside the airplane. The crew members on the plane looked tense and upset, as if they were facing a horrible trial. We still don't know what happened at the last moment, but in the end Snowden stayed in Moscow.

I was on that plane, waiting for him along with several dozen other journalists from international news agencies and TV channels, all of us eager to quiz him about his claims. I wanted to ask Snowden about the evidence he had to prove his claims that the U.S. and British intelligence agencies, despite their governments' public advocacy for freedom of the Internet, had been spying and stealing tons of personal data from people in their home countries.

For a long time, after we took off, we still could not believe that Snowden was not among us: After all, who knew what disguise he might be using? (This might seem a bit less crazy when you consider that we just saw an American spy wearing a wig last month.) Trapped on the flight for 12 hours, journalists walked around the plane looking into every passenger's face. Other reporters were already waiting to greet Snowden in Cuba. They looked for him inside and outside Havana's airport, asking every young blond male if he was Snowden. I'm still hoping to meet up with Snowden here in Havana, though Ecuadorean diplomats now say it may take months to issue him political asylum.

There's one very specific reason Snowden may be having trouble finding a way out of the Moscow airport's transit lounge, where he apparently is right now: his papers. Right now the only travel document he has is one of dubious status issued by the Ecuadoreans. After the American authorities canceled his U.S. passport on Monday, no airline wants to sell him another plane ticket. (He apparently managed to buy his ticket for Havana while his passport was still valid.)

There are other theories. "He got frightened that Americans would bring him down on that plane," says Igor Bunin, a Moscow political analyst. "He's a huge pain for the Kremlin, a Catch-22. Now that he's turned into an anti-American government star, Russia can't kick him out, but keeping him means even a bigger international scandal." I'd love to ask Snowden about his days and nights in Russia if I ever get the chance to meet him.

My friend Olga Bychkova, a host from radio Echo of Moscow, described a scene she witnessed in the airport's transit zone on the day of Snowden's arrival on Sunday. "I saw about 20 Russian officials, supposedly FSB [security service] agents in suits, crowding around somebody in a restricted area of the airport," Bychkova told me. "The Kremlin pretends they have nothing to do with him being stuck in Moscow, but in reality they're all over him."

What's up Mr. Snowden? Do you really hate reporters? If you're "a free man," as President Vladimir Putin says, why hide from crowds of journalists waiting to talk to you in Sheremetyevo airport for three days? WikiLeaks claims that you -- the biggest leaker in the history of the National Security Agency -- are "in a safe place." If you're safe and free, why didn't you use your ticket last Monday? You would have had a great chance to explain the reasons for renouncing your wealthy life with a beautiful girlfriend. Just imagine: 12 hours in front of the world's major networks on the flight to Cuba! Russian commentators think that you're not as free as the Russian leader claims, that somebody did not allow you to fly Monday. "Snowden will fly out of Russia when the Kremlin decides he can go," says Moscow political analyst Dmitry Oreshkin. "He might not even be in the airport. The safest place would be a GRU [Russian military intelligence] apartment." That would also explain why no one has seen your face in Moscow yet.


Democracy Lab

The Kremlin and the Octopus

The arrest of a leading politician has shaken up Russia's most turbulent republic. But will anything really change?

MOSCOW —  On a recent afternoon in the city of Makhachkala, the capital of Russia's Dagestan region, I sat with two senior police officers, discussing the latest news over a cup of green tea. Something absolutely unprecedented had just happened. The Kremlin had sent a contingent of police officers into the city by helicopter. They arrested mayor Said Amirov and flew him off to Moscow, where they put him behind bars. Prosecutors have said that they're charging him with ordering the murder of a state investigator.

This is an extraordinary departure for President Vladimir Putin, who's famous for giving regional officials free reign as long as they're loyal. Amirov, however, may well be a special case. Known informally as "Said the Immortal" (he's survived 12 assassination attempts) and "the Octopus" (his influence reaches into all corners of the republic), Amirov ruled Dagestan for 15 years, controlling criminal gangs that are frequently intertwined with local Islamist insurgencies (and even law enforcement agencies as well). Given the length of Amirov's reign, it could be argued that Putin actually bided his time when it came to dismissing the mayor. Many in the republic have greeted Amirov's arrest with relief. My hosts from the police force told me that the mayor's departure offers Dagestan new hope for a peaceful life. 

Interrupting each other to correct details and facts, the two men recalled terror attacks that have taken dozens of lives on their force over the past three years, leaving heartbroken widows and orphans behind. Lieutenant Colonel Magomed Isayev handed me a list of men who once served in his police unit: "These are just the names that I can remember off the top of my head," Isayev said, a shadow passing over his face. 

The guerillas who are fighting in Dagestan to establish an independent Islamic state see the men in uniform as servants of the Kremlin and violators of sharia law. Over the past few years the ultraconservative salafi community in Dagestan has mushroomed, expanding from one mosque in Makhachkala in 2006 to over a dozen in 2013. No one knows the precise numbers, but conservative Islam is growing more and more popular among young people. For the moment, the majority of Dagestanis are still sticking to their traditional Sufi beliefs, but it may not stay that way for long. 

Law enforcement officials fall victim to the underground militia's attacks almost every week. Kavkazky Uzel, an independent online publication, reports that 14 law enforcement officials were killed in Dagestan during the first three months of 2013. Yet there are also some members of officialdom who seem to sympathize with the insurgents, sometimes thanks to family ties. As so often in this part of the world, it's almost impossible to unravel the intricate connections between the police and the people they're supposed to be combating. In the eyes of many, Amirov himself exemplifies this melding of criminality and government. There have even been reports [in Russian] that the mayor hired members of the insurgency to kill his enemies.

There are some moments, the two police officers told me, that they simply can't forget. "There are a lot of times when we're cordoning off a site after an explosion," Lieutenant Colonel Magomed Guseinov explained. "Then, once there's a bunch of us there, another bomb goes off. They're trying to kill as many police as they can." In 2011, Guseinov himself was wounded by one of these follow-up bombs, hit by shrapnel in his leg, cheek, and shoulder.

One night a plastic bag left on a Makhachkala street exploded, luring dozens of policemen to the scene. The cops were asking passersby to move away from a suspicious-looking car that Guseinov suspected might be loaded with explosives. Sure enough, the car blew up, throwing Guseinov high in the air, killing a young police officer, and wounding several others.

"Mayor Amirov was behind some of the attacks," Guseinov assured me. "Now that he's in jail, the situation will calm down and no one military operations will be needed." So why would a mayor order terrorist attacks or the murder of state officials? Guseinov and Isayev believe in a theory, widespread in Dagestan, that claims that Amirov aimed to deliberately destabilize the situation in order to prove the incompetence of other regional leaders. His hope was that the Kremlin would appoint him as the republic's president in order to get the situation back under control. 

But the Russian military forces based in Dagestan don't have any plans to leave yet. On the contrary, troops, ammunition, and armored vehicles have been streaming into the republic since last June. Yet despite growing military bases, constant special operations, and the detention of anyone suspected of links with the insurgency, the attacks on officials still haven't stopped.

The day after my conversation with Isayev and Guseinov, a bomb planted under a police car went off, blowing off a police officer's leg. That's the fourth casualty this week, following the deaths of three other official in another attack a few days ago. Whether you're sitting on the veranda of the Russian Theater in downtown Makhachkala, strolling along the sandy beach by the Caspian Sea, or driving a gypsy cab through one of Dagestan's myriad police checkpoints, the threat of sudden violence lingers in the warm air.

It took a few days, but those who initially celebrated the mayor's arrest soon came to understand that explosions will not disappear in the post-Amirov era. Nothing has fundamentally changed. Suicide bombers continue to blow themselves up, killing civilians and officials. The police and federal security have not changed their tactics of abducting and torturing suspects.

A few years ago the former President Dmitry Medvedev identified "monstrous scales of corruption" as one of the main causes of troubles in Russian North Caucuses. A few weeks before Mayor Amirov's arrest, I asked him if the corruption that Medvedev pointed to was in fact motivating the insurgency in Dagestan. "Indeed, corruption and terror go together here," the mayor told me. "They're synonyms." He was trying to claim, of course, that it's only the other people who are corrupt, but I doubt that many Dagestanis would believe that. It's widely known around the republic that choice government jobs are for sale. You can order just about anyone's murder or abduction for the right price, and you can find plenty of people to do the job in the private security companies or among the guerillas.

A remarkable movement of both retired and active police officers in Dagestan is risking their careers and lives by courageously warning about the dangers of rampant corruption. A group of them arrived in Moscow last February and gave a remarkable press conference on the role of the police in the conflict zone. They demanded that they authorities launch a large scale war against corruption in the troubled republic.

I met with a few of the activists for lunch last weekend to see what they thought about the Kremlin's arrest of the man who symbolized Dagestan's sleaze. They were unimpressed. The arrest didn't mean that the government had decided to respect the laws, they told me; on the contrary, now an even more corrupt criminal clan was set to take power. "The entire system is rotten," the group's leader told me. "You can buy and sell jobs and lives on all levels in our republic. Just start following the constitution and the laws, and the war will be over." Then he sighed. "After so many years they finally arrested one Amirov. But 10 other Amirovs will go on applying his methods: stealing money, firing critics, or executing anyone who gets in the way of the path to gaining more power."

The Russian authorities should pay more attention to voices like these. There are real Russian patriots trying to help the Kremlin make peace in the North Caucasus.