By Eric Vandenbroeck and co-workers
Putin's Concern
The day after
Russia’s presidential election in March, Russian President Vladimir Putin made a
surprising speech. Having eliminated all viable political opposition, he had
just sailed to victory by the highest margin in post-Soviet Russian history,
garnering 88 percent of the vote. Yet rather than embracing his triumph—and his
fresh mandate for a fifth term in office—he warned of a grave threat facing the
country: Russian defectors who have been joining the enemy in Russia’s
two-year-old war in Ukraine.
Although their forces
remain small, these Ukrainian-based Russian rebels have recently claimed
responsibility for several attacks on Russian soil. In a speech delivered at
his campaign headquarters, Putin compared these fighters to vlasovstsy, the name given to the Soviet soldiers
who defected to the Nazi side during World War II—part of a movement that was
considered one of the worst episodes of treason in Soviet history. (The name
derives from Soviet General Andrei Vlasov, who, after being captured by the
Germans in 1942, agreed to serve the Nazis and founded the Russian Liberation
Army to fight against the Soviets.)
Now, Putin has
launched a sweeping new crackdown against Russians who fight with Ukraine.
Following his speech, he met with the heads of the FSB, Russia’s Federal
Security Service, and called on the agency to hunt down these turncoats. He
also made clear that he considers Russians who fight on the Ukrainian side to
be not only traitors but also defectors—since, as Russian nationals, they are
legally subject to military service for Russia itself. Putin reminded his
audience what had happened to the vlasovstsy under
Stalin—most of them were killed. Putin told the FSB to identify any Russians
fighting against Russia, vowing, “We will punish them without a statute of
limitations, wherever they are.” Putin announced the crackdown a month and a
half after a prominent defector, the Russian helicopter pilot Maxim Kuzminov, was assassinated in a parking garage in Spain.
Russian Volunteer Corps fighters near Ukraine’s border
with Russia, May 2023
It has been hard to
determine how serious the defector threat actually is. So far, the attacks
inside Russia seem more symbolic than militarily significant. Indeed, Putin’s
fixation on defectors may seem irrational in view of the far more lethal
terrorist attack by the Islamic State (or ISIS) near Moscow on March 22, in
which 137 Russians were gunned down at a concert venue. But Putin’s
preoccupation with Russians who join the other side is not an emotional act of
vengeance or a reflexive response to the attacks against Russia. It is a
strategic decision informed by a long history of Soviet and Russian paranoia
about threats from within—and a further symptom of the regime’s emulation of
its totalitarian twentieth-century predecessors.
Russians Against Putin
The Kremlin’s
concerns about defectors began in the months after the failure of the initial
full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. In the summer of
that year, the Russian parliament adopted an amendment to the Russian criminal
code that designated any act of “switching to the enemy’s side during the
military operations” as high treason subject to a prison sentence of up to 20
years. By 2023, Moscow was particularly worried about the increased activities
of two rebel groups, the Ukrainian-based Russian Volunteer Corps and the
Freedom of Russia Legion, a unit of Russian volunteers and defectors from the
Russian army. The Kremlin labeled both groups as terrorist organizations.
The RVC was initially
established by Russian nationals living in Ukraine. Its ideology is
complicated: a right-wing movement, it promotes a non-imperialist but
ethnonationalist agenda, opposing Russia’s aggression in Ukraine but favoring a
Russian national state on Russian territories that are exclusively populated by
ethnic Russians. In October 2022, the group published a manifesto declaring it
to be “part of the Armed Forces of Ukraine” but effectively supervised by
Ukraine’s military intelligence. The Freedom of Russia Legion had been formed
even earlier, a few weeks after the war began, by several dozen Russian
soldiers who had defected from the Russian army. It is also supported by
Ukraine’s military intelligence.
Estimates on the
current numbers of fighters in the RVC and the legion vary. Putin has claimed
that they have 2,500 soldiers overall, although Ukrainian sources place the
figure closer to a few hundred fighters in each. The two units have tanks and
armored vehicles provided by Ukraine. (Recent reports also suggest that the RVC
may also be recruiting from Russian prisoners of war in Ukraine.)
During the first year
of the war, these units did not appear to pose a significant threat to Moscow.
Their main activity seemed to be producing posts and videos for social media,
posing in military uniforms with claims that they were fighting side by side
with the Ukrainians against the Russian aggressors, including in the
Zaporizhzhia region of Ukraine. Beginning in the spring of 2023, however, the
RVC started conducting diversionary raids into Russian territory—first in the
Bryansk region, then in the Belgorod region. The brief intrusions, filmed on
social media, aimed to take the war to Russian territory; the videos included a
call to the Russians to join in the liberation of Putin’s regime. Further raids
took place in March 2024, just days before Russia’s presidential election,
heightening concerns at the Kremlin.
In those raids, the
RVC units may have been joined by Freedom of Russia Legion fighters. The legion
has been supported and promoted by Ilya Ponomarev, the only member of the
Russian State Duma who had voted against the annexation of Crimea.
Ponomarev has been living in exile in Ukraine since 2016. In February, Russian
authorities charged Ponomarev with high treason and terrorism for his
involvement with the legion. Russian authorities also claim that the RVC and
the legion have been joined by Ukrainian troops and Western mercenaries. (The
Russian pro-Kremlin bloggers have released videos allegedly taken from the
cellphones of Americans killed in the fighting, although there is no way to
identify these combatants as Americans.) In the March raid on Russian territory,
the units were also joined by a third rebel group calling itself the Siberian
Battalion, which may consist of several dozen fighters, many of them from
ethnic minorities in Russia.
Moscow’s Hit Men
Although the
volunteer units’ military capabilities may be limited, the Kremlin’s response
has been intense. Over the past year, the Russian security services have
launched dozens of criminal cases against anyone suspected of having
connections with the RVC or the Freedom of Russia Legion. Court proceedings in
these cases are not usually open to the public, and much of what is known comes
from FSB reports about the arrests of RVC members or agents whom authorities
have accused of various plans to sabotage Russian railways, gather intelligence
on Russian forces, or prepare terrorist attacks in Russian cities. For
instance, in March of this year, the FSB detained four men in St. Petersburg,
accusing them of attempting to poison food that was bound for Russian soldiers
on the battlefield.
Denis Kapustin, a founder
and leader of the RVC, is a former football hooligan who is known for far-right
and neo-Nazi activism and has in the past been denied entry to Europe for his
extremist views. By his own account, he is fighting for Ukraine because he
believes Putin is a danger to Russia, and he wants to overthrow the Putin
regime. Kapustin drew widespread media attention in March 2023, when the RVC
crossed the Russian-Ukrainian border and raided villages in the Bryansk region.
In November, Kapustin was convicted in Russia on five charges, including
terrorism and high treason, and sentenced in absentia to life in prison.
Russian soldiers in Ukraine's Siberian Battalion, near
Kyiv, April 2024
The case of Kuzminov, the Russian military helicopter pilot, drew an
even stronger response from the Kremlin. In August 2023, Kuzminov
decided to defect from Russia, flying his Mi-8 helicopter to Ukraine. Two
members of his crew, who were unaware of his decision, were gunned down by the
Ukrainian military when they landed on the Ukrainian side. The Russian military
leadership expressed extraordinary anger at Kuzminov’s
defection, and a few months later, masked officers of Russia’s GRU special
forces recorded a video promising to find and kill Kuzminov,
openly admitting that an assassination order had been given.
As is now clear, they
kept their word, ultimately finding him in Spain and killing him with six
bullets from a Russian Makarov pistol—an unmistakable signature of the Russian
security services. In assassinating Kuzminov, the GRU
also set out to compromise Ukraine’s military intelligence by demonstrating
that Ukrainian agents were unable to protect a defector. The GRU was sending a
message: You can’t keep the people who trusted you safe.
Stalin’s Greatest Fear
Like many fellow KGB
veterans who lived through the collapse of the Soviet Union, Putin retains a
keen sense of the fragility of the Russian state. For Soviet leaders, an
obsession with rooting out any potential challenges to their power was fueled
by the leaders’ lack of trust in the country’s military and security services,
a preoccupation that haunted the Kremlin from the first days of the Bolshevik
Revolution all the way through 1991. There was some logic in the paranoia: the
Russian postrevolutionary army and secret police were filled with adventurous
people with mixed or uncertain loyalties who were always ready to take chances.
Stalin came to
believe that this represented an existential threat to his rule. His paranoid
response was to trust no one, launching vicious purges of scores of spies and
army generals and placing the rest under continual surveillance. But that recipe—to
compel loyalty via repression—didn’t work as he intended.
When Russia went to
war with Nazi Germany in 1941, thousands of members of the Red Army defected,
forming the Russian volunteer troops that fought for the Germans, the units
that became known as the vlasovstsy. Many
of the vlasovstsy wanted to
overthrow the Stalinist regime and believed that the Germans could help them.
Alongside defectors from the military, there had long been a steady stream of
defectors from the Soviet intelligence and security agencies. The very people
put in place to protect the regime often proved to be the most susceptible to
joining the enemy.
During and after the
war, Stalin’s security services mercilessly hunted down the vlasovstsy: once captured, they were publicly
executed; Vlasov himself was hanged in Moscow in 1946. The brutality of the
response was prompted not by any actual military danger but because the
defectors threatened to open up a gap, in wartime, between the country and the
regime that ruled it.
During the Cold War,
the ruthless approach to defectors continued under Stalin’s successors. And yet
KGB and military intelligence agents kept defecting. In one of the CIA’s
founding documents, the Central Intelligence Act of 1949, the U.S. government
decreed that it could take in as many as a hundred defectors every year. Of
course, at the time, defectors primarily meant people fleeing the Soviet Union.
The United States also viewed the Soviet army as a possible force to be
exploited if things went south for the Kremlin. In 1951, George Fischer, a
young protégé of the U.S. diplomat George Kennan, wrote a short book
called Russian Émigré Politics. Citing the large number of Red Army
defectors during World War II, Fischer argued that if war broke out between the
Soviet Union and the West, the Soviet army would likely become a hotbed of
dissent. Senior members of the CIA praised his ideas.
In reality, the
opportunity to test Fischer’s theory in an actual war between the superpowers
never presented itself, and until the 1979 Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, the
threat of mass defections remained largely a memory of World War II.
As Soviet forces struggled against the American-backed mujahideen in
Afghanistan, the Kremlin came to see the flight of even small numbers of
soldiers as an existential threat. The KGB was given orders to hunt down
Russian defectors in the West and bring them back—at all costs. Two defectors
who went public in 1984 were eventually lured by the KGB from London to the
Soviet Union and promptly sent to prison camps. In the wake of that episode,
the hunt for defectors from the security and intelligence agencies never really
stopped—even after the collapse of the Soviet Union.
Compared with these
late Soviet precedents, however, Putin’s campaign against defectors looks far
more harsh. After Stalin’s death, there were just a few killings or
assassination attempts against defectors—for instance, a KGB assassin, Nikolay
Khokhlov, who had defected, survived a poisoning attack in 1957; a former
Russian naval officer and defector, Nikolai Artamonov, was lured from the
United States to Austria and poisoned by the KGB in 1975. (The KGB later
claimed that it had intended only to drug and kidnap him and that it had
mistakenly given him an overdose.) By contrast, Putin’s open use and threat of
assassination is far closer to the approach taken by Stalin, who always sought
to hunt down and kill those from inside his regime who fled abroad.
More Spies, More Assassins
Although Putin’s
obsession with defectors may appear to be a direct result of the war in
Ukraine, it is hardly an issue that the Kremlin sees as limited to that
conflict. Indeed, for the Putin regime, targeting defectors may likely emerge
as one of the key prongs of a Russian counterattack against what is now seen as
the CIA’s increasingly aggressive stance toward Russia.
Since the war began,
the CIA has stepped up its efforts to recruit Russian agents, developing an
overt public recruitment campaign and issuing videos aimed directly at Russian
audiences. In response, Russia’s security agencies are now placing a greater emphasis
on counterintelligence activities. After the initial setbacks at the start of
the war, Russia’s spy services appear to be back in force and undertaking new
operations in several countries in Europe.
The Kremlin’s
ruthless response to defectors is unlikely to help Russia’s war effort in
Ukraine. Creating more fear within the military and intelligence services will
certainly not raise morale. And it will do little to prevent the kind of
devastating terrorist attack that killed scores of Russians at the concert hall
in March. But fueled by a century of paranoia in Moscow—and an emboldened group
of volunteer units in Ukraine—Putin’s new campaign seems likely to lead to
further assassination operations abroad and more crackdowns at home.
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