The Russian journalist Anna Politkovskaya has received death threats for reporting on the war in Chechnya.
In Chechnya, Truth Is a Dangerous Goal
15 December 2001
By CELESTINE BOHLEN - The New York Times
Anna Politkovskaya doesn't think of herself as a war reporter.
When colleagues all over the world rushed this fall to cover the war in Afghanistan,
she wasn't even tempted. "I looked inside myself, and I understood I had
no desire to go," she said during a recent visit to New York.
And yet, for the last two years, Ms. Politkovskaya, who
writes for the Russian weekly newspaper Novaya Gazeta, has been in the thick
of a war, the latest one waged by Russia in the southern region of Chechnya.
Often she has been a solitary witness to a conflict in which there is no victory
and no defeat, just a steady stream of misery and death, brutality and betrayal.
Other reporters, mostly foreign, have been to Chechnya
intermittently to write about the devastation in the capital, Grozny; the atrocities
in villages where Russian troops have run amok; or about underpaid, untrained
Russian soldiers.
But the difference is that Ms. Politkovskaya is working
for a Russian newspaper at a time when the Russian government has actively discouraged
any independent reporting on the war. As a result, most other Russian reports
are sporadic and tilted toward the official line. But she has gone back to Chechnya
again and again, trying to perfect a method of war reporting that is difficult
in the best of circumstances: getting both sides of the story.
"I have to go because nobody
else is going, and if nobody goes, then no one will know what is happening,"
Ms. Politkovskaya said. "Even when you write what is happening,
people don't believe you. But I figure if I have convinced 10 people of the
truth, then I have done my job."
She has been publicly lambasted by government spokesmen
and handled roughly by the state security police. Her editors have received
phone calls from the Kremlin, and television producers have suddenly (and inexplicably)
canceled her appearances on state-supported stations. Yet she has continued
to report, even though, as she says, "In my soul, I am not a war reporter."
Since the fall of 1999, she has made 26 trips to Chechnya;
her last was in September. If it weren't for a particular widely reported death
threat from a persistent major in the Russian Interior Ministry forces, she
would probably be there now, tromping through the snow that covers the Caucasus
Mountains, following up on the letters she gets from people who want her to
tell their story.
But instead she is in limbo. The death threats from the
major, whom she accused of assisting in murder and torture in Chechnya, forced
her to leave Russia for a time. She and her editors have tried to file charges
against him, but so far, she said, no case has been brought.
She was in the United States promoting her book, "A
Dirty War: A Russian Reporter in Chechnya," translated by John Crowfoot
(Harvill Press) and distributed in the United States by Farrar, Straus &
Giroux.
Ms. Politkovskaya, 43, a tall, thin woman with glasses
and graying hair, was not one of the many Russian journalists who covered the
first war, from 1994 to 1996, when there was still public sympathy in Russia
for the Chechen independence fighters. That was before the region collapsed
into lawlessness, and reporters, among hundreds of others, were kidnapped by
bandit- warlords. In those years, she was writing about orphans, prisoners,
the handicapped and others whose situations taboo subjects in the Soviet era
only got worse in the early years of capitalism and democracy.
In Chechnya, her focus from the start was civilians, innocent
people caught in a nightmarish conflict. She actually began with the dead, writing
about the bodies of Russian soldiers from the first war, which, because of mismanagement
and greed, were still unidentified years later at a laboratory in Rostov-on-Don.
Most of her reporting is about ordinary citizens Chechens,
Russians, Dagestani and Ingush who were made helpless by war. (The last two
groups, from regions bordering Chechnya, have also been dragged into the nightmare.)
She has written articles about Chechen refugees who live huddled in unheated
railway cars, of a conductor from St. Petersburg who gives them her paltry bonus,
of a local bureaucrat who comes to visit them in a silk tie, white shirt and
perfectly polished shoes.
Ms. Politkovskaya's most famous
tale was of the ordeal of the inhabitants of an old-age home in Grozny who were
prevented for a time from leaving the bombed-out city by both Chechen and Russian
officials, whom she described as equally cynical and corrupt. In
this case, as in others, she led a one-woman crusade, publishing her telephone
number to rally support and money from strangely indifferent readers. She makes
no apologies for overstepping the bounds of the objective reporter: her mission
involves more than facts.
"My goal is to knock on doors until someone listens,"
she said. But in the last chapter of her book, she acknowledges how hard that
can be, even in her own circles in Moscow. "Everyone is tired of this war,"
she writes. "When you tell even very close friends and relatives on your
return about that other world, you are met with disbelief . . . `There she goes
again, making up these hellish stories.' "
Last February she traveled to the mountainous region of
Vedeno to investigate reports of Russian troops holding Chechen prisoners in
deep pits. After interviewing the villagers, she went to the local Russian base
to see the commanding officer, who, to her amazement, told her the truth. "I
simply asked the commander why the soldiers behaved this way," she said.
"This is ordinary journalism: you ask one side, and then the other."
As she left the base, she was
intercepted by Russian intelligence officers, who accused her of spying. She
was held for three days, during which she was verbally abused and physically
threatened. She was deliberately placed in the line of fire and was finally
released only because two villagers who saw her being arrested informed Memorial,
a Russian human rights group.
"When they released me, they said it was because there
was a big noise in Moscow," she said. "I was lucky, because the worst
in Chechnya is to disappear." She said she later learned that the two men
who saved her were denounced and killed.
Now that Russia has joined the United States' war against
international terrorism, there are signs that the government is looking for
ways to negotiate an end to the war in Chechnya. As a gesture of solidarity
with its Western allies, it has sent emergency aid to Afghanistan to help civilians
and has obliquely acknowledged that civilian casualties should be avoided.
But still, Ms. Politkovskaya has her doubts about the lessons learned in Chechnya.
"In our society, there is still a traditional view: `One life more, one
life less, what's the difference,' " she said. "It requires a certain
healthiness of the whole society to think differently. And no society has ever
become healthy through war."