New head of the MVD’s anti-‘extremism’ “special branch” – GUPE

Col. Timur Valiulin

No sooner do I write on the panoply of political police agencies in Russia, including the so-called ‘E Centers’ of GUPE, the Interior Ministry’s Glavnoe upravlenie po protivodeistviyu ekstremizmy, Main Directorate for Combating Extremism, that GUPE gets a new boss. Today a presidential decree appointed Colonel Timur Samirovich Valiulin to the position, replacing Yuri Kokov, who has become head of the MVD’s All-Russian Institute for Advanced Training.

Previously, Valiulin had been head of the Moscow city police anti-extremism staff, so he was in charge of its E Centre and, presumably, would have played some role in such recent decisions as the prosecution of Pussy Riot. Although the E Centers have a pretty bad reputation in general, Moscow’s has seemed especially heavy-handed (Ilya Yashin has called it the “most radical” of all — and not as a compliment), so it is hard to be especially uplifted by this news.

Before then, he was head of Moscow police’s directorate for combating organized crime (UBOP) until that was abolished in line with Medvedev’s decree of September 2008. Previously  to that, he had been head of the economic crime team in Moscow’s central okrug (district) and deputy chief of the 16th Division of the Moscow GUVD’s Directorate for Combating Economic Crime (UBEP)

As another Moscow appointee, Valiulin is presumably if not a protege of new Interior Minister (and former Moscow police chief) Vladimir Kolokoltsev, at least someone with a certain connection to him. This certainly fits a general trend of the rise of ‘Muscovites’ within the MVD. Viktor Golovanov, for example, was Kolokoltsev’s deputy and interim successor at the Moscow GUVD, before becoming head of GUUR, the MVD’s Main Directorate for Criminal Investigations. Likewise, Deputy Interior Minister Arkady Gostev was formerly chief of staff of the Moscow GUVD.

Valiulin also appears to be on the more active, hardline side of the debate as to how to respond. Combine that with his background in economic crime investigations, and it helps explain why individuals like Alexei Navalny and Ksenia Sobchak increasingly seem to be being attacked through their bank accounts and business activities.

Is Medvedev Putin’s nemesis?

“Consider this my notice, Vladimir Vladimirovich.”

It’s easy to be dismissive, even derisory, about poor Dmitry Medvedev, the little engine that ultimately couldn’t. Installed as chair-warmer-in-chief by Vladimir Putin, to occupy the president’s office in the Kremlin until bis patron was ready to reclaim it. For a while, in 2010-11, I wondered if the experience of being behind the big desk had changed him, whether he was nerving himself up to challenge Putin. I suspect he was contemplating it, not least given that he started tentatively to occupy spaces which had largely been Putin’s turf, such as talking tough on the Kurils. We know that people like Surkov wanted him to serve another term, although as part of a deal with Putin rather than through a contested election. But it didn’t happen; Dima blinked and Vova came back. And Dima had to tell everyone how much better Vova was then him. Poor guy. And, to be honest, the rising volume of chatter in Russia about a possible dismissal from his consolation-prize prime ministerial position is probably also well-founded. When he was appointed I thought he had six months before he’d be moved out, and that comes up in November. We’ll see.

However, one of the reasons why I love taking part in the indispensable Russian politics wonkfest that is the Power Vertical podcast is that it helps me marshal my thoughts, and through yesterday’s conversation with Brian Whitmore I came to realize that when the histories of this turbulent era come to be written, it may well prove to be Medvedev who is credited for being the agent of Putin’s downfall: not Navalny, not Udaltsov, not even that wicked Mike McFaul and his coffers of State Department silver. Why? Because the challenges facing and ultimately possibly beating Putin today and to a large extent the products of policies and processes initiated under Medvedev. If the protesters of today are Putin’s children, they are also Medvedev’s foster-kids.

In the podcast, we discussed both the importance of Medvedev’s rhetorical and — more unusually — genuine commitment to a rule-of-law state as well as the economic and social developments which took place on his watch. There’s more, though. In no particular order or depth, I’d add:

  • Medvedev’s move to force government officials to step down from boards of state corporations; this may not really have stuck (or done much to rein in Sechin) but it was a significant statement of the need to disentangle politics and business.
  • Medvedev was far more overtly positive on the need to address environmental issues, allowing the further rise of movements which acquired an increasingly political dimension. (Let’s see what happens in the Khimki mayoral elections where Evgenia Chirikova is standing.)
  • It was Medvedev who sacked Moscow mayor Luzhkov in 2010, a particular example of how individuals can challenge the state but not necessarily be on the side of the angels. As a symbol that no one is untouchable, that mattered — and it is hard to overstate the importance of Moscow and its governance in modern Russia. Besides which, Luzhkov’s successor, Sergei Sobyanin, might prove an interesting future power-broker or even successor to Putin, a technocratic insider who could offer ‘Putinism without Putin’…
  • The 2008 Georgian War asserted Russia’s coercive power within Eurasia but also created a legacy of mistrust that Putin is ill-equipped to address. It might have been Dima’s war (kinda), but it is still Vova’s problem.
  • Medvedev’s 2009 modernization program, Again, easy to deride, and a lot is just overheated “white heat of technology” rhetoric that would have done Harold Wilson proud, but a serious drive towards modernization is inevitably problematic for a regime built on rent-seeking exploitation of primary exports and a controlled society. Russia’s modernization will depend on and empower the new metropolitan middle class — the very people most opposed to Putin.
  • Meaningful reform of higher education, including the creation of the National Research Universities and, especially, opening up the system to greater exchange of students, faculty and ideas with the West. This will inevitably also create new constituencies critical of the status quo.

There is no doubt more, but for a range of reasons (and certainly not with any Grand Plan), I do think that we can credit Medvedev with playing a key role in the rise of the forces now so troubling Putin and his chums.

Is there a looming Russian crime threat to the Czech Republic?

I’m always cautious about high-blown warnings of impending gang wars, mafia “invasions” (Federico Varese has competently and comprehensively dismantled much of the mythology about that) and the like.

Nonetheless, I am getting alarmed by the possibility that the changing dynamics above all of drug trafficking through Russia — the rise of the “northern route” for Afghan heroin — is going to encourage Russian gangs into a renewed push into Central Europe in general, and the Czech Republic in particular. The 1990s saw the rise of Russian and other post-Soviet gangs there, a rise which was checked and reversed. While they were tamed, though, they did not disappear and they have the contacts, wealth and infrastructure to be able to re-establish a more powerful and dangerous role for themselves. As I expound in a piece in today’s Prague Post:

Ultimately, the unavoidable logic of the market means the Russians are coming. Afghan heroin is reshaping the Russian underworld, creating winners who want to establish trafficking routes through the Czech Republic, losers who are being pushed west into Central Europe and profits that need to be invested. The question is how Prague prepares itself to deter or deal with its future guests.

Said Efendi Chirkeisky/Said Atsayev – Dagestan’s Falcone?

Statues of Falcone and Borsellino, Sicily

At first glance it might seem quite a stretch to find any connection between Said Efendi Chirkeisky (born Said Atsayev), the Dagestani Sufi religious leader assassinated in a suicide bomb attack yesterday and Italian anti-Mafia magistrate Giovanni Falcone — beyond that he, too, died in a bomb blast. The Mafia murdered him in 1992 and, shortly thereafter, his friend and colleague Paolo Borsellino. But bear with me and indulge a moment of, bizarrely enough, optimism amidst this undoubted tragedy.

Chirkeisky died because he was a Sufi, because he was a rival source of religious authority to the Wahhabi/Salafi jihadists, because he challenged the legitimacy of their Manichean worldview. It is interesting and illustrative that, as well as law-enforcement officials, the North Caucasian terrorists are now targeting religious leaders who are hostile to their jihad or, equally sinful to them, even just not actively supportive. It demonstrates how the war is also becoming a Muslim civil war in the region.

More than 100,000 people turned out to Chirkeisky’s funeral (remember, Dagestan has a population of less than 3 million — that would be like 2.1 million Britons turning up to a funeral). The understandable first reaction is that this threatens to worsen the violence. However, it need not be quite so straightforward. The tragic murders of Falcone and Borsellino galvanized a country that otherwise had almost become apathetic, losing hope that Italy’s corrupted state could or would ever seriously take on the Mafia and back the courageous magistrates and police officers who were fighting the good fight. Italians mobilized and forced their political elite — often very much against their will and interests — at last to unleash the legions of law enforcement. Obviously organized crime is still strong in Italy, and this proved a two-steps-forward-one-and-a-half back process (thanks, Berlusconi), but nonetheless the start of the real rollback of Mafia power in Italy began with what seemed to be their great triumphs, their ability to kill these two bitter enemies of theirs.

The situation is, of course, very different in the North Caucasus. Nonetheless, Chirkeisky was an enemy of violence, an advocate for engagement with what he realized were corrupt, authoritarian and often hostile authorities in order to tame and educate them.

Ravil Gainutdin, Russia’s Grand Mufti, has warned that “A lot of strength, wisdom and fear of God are needed from the Dagestani people to maintain the situation within the legal framework, avert a bloody civil war and not allow quarrels to split society.” But it is — just — possible to see a more positive potential outcome that just averting civil war. Chirkeisky could become a martyr not to war but unity, a unifying symbol that allows new connections to be made between a state that is often only marginally legitimate and a population that has concerns, needs and a desire for change but would rather find ways other than violent Islamist jihad to address them. This is a time for President Magomedov to take some bold and conciliatory moves that might help show that his government is the population’s ally, not its oppressor. For other religious leaders — Sufi, Shafi’i, Shia — to clasp hands and stand together against a jihadism that is essentially alien to the region. (Remember, even the great regional cultural hero Iman Shamil was a Sufi, however much others try to appropriate his name to their cause.)

Do I think this will happen. Sadly, no. I think Magomedov lacks the political finesse to appreciate that this is one of those brief historical opportunities and probably the freedom of maneuver to take advantage of it. I am unconvinced the religious leaders have that level of ecumenicalism yet, unwilling to appreciate the threat jihadism poses them all. But it could and, for one bittersweet moment, I’d like to cling to that potential, that Chirkeisky did not die in vain.

Vigilantism, faith and power in Russia

Do you feel any safer now?

Some years back I wrote a piece called ‘Private security and public insecurity: outsourced vigilantism in modern Russia’ for David Pratten and Atreyee Sen’s collection Global Vigilantes (Hurst, 2007). In it, I argued that Russia was heir to a long legacy of vigilantism, but one which took a variety of forms, samosud lynch law of the tsarist village being subsumed into Comrades’ Courts and informing on annoying neighbors in Soviet times. In post-Soviet Russia, I suggested that the rise of the private security industry as well as a continuing willingness to regard organized crime as an acceptable alternative to the structures of law and the state also reflected this tradition. I suggested that this emerged from three main drivers: (1) a fragmenting social dynamic requiring groups and individuals to seek their own protection; (2) deep-seated mistrust of the authorities’ will or ability to provide protection; and (3) a cultural bias towards self-help and summary justice that may reflect moral values but not necessarily the letter of the law.

I was thinking about this as I listened to the most recent of the ever-thought-provoking RFE/RL Power Vertical podcasts, in which Brian Whitmore and Kirill Kobrin discussed the “culture wars” between the rising urban, cosmopolitan middle class and a traditional Russian conservative identity. It is interesting how, as the Kremlin appears less confident, certain and powerful than for a long time, various symptoms of vigilantism seem to be bubbling forth, from a renewal of calls for liberalizing gun control laws and a continued rise in the private security industry, through events such as the Sagra case, to the new appeals to the use of Cossacks to help police Russia’s border reasons and most recently, plans to put Russian Orthodox vigilante patrols drawn from Dmitry Otrakovsky’s “Holy Rus” movement onto Moscow’s streets to deal with “blasphemous, offensive actions and statements against the Orthodox religion and our people.”

Otrakovsky (left) and his merry men

The Orthodox vigilante plans have proven controversial. Fr. Vsevolod Chaplin, head of the Synodal Department for Church-Society Relations, whom Time called “the Orthodox point man with the Kremlin“, has endorsed the proposals, calling them “a step in the right direction.” (I wonder, with some alarm, quite what he feels would be the destination: a Russian Inquisition?) The Moscow police have dampened speculation from the Church that joint vigilante-police patrols would be mounted (which would have given them official legitimacy and arrest powers).

Their beards and black skull-and-dagger “Orthodoxy or Death” t-shirts imply something between Iran’s morality police and the Hell’s Angels. Nonetheless, they raise an interesting point. Governor Tkachev, who wanted to hire a thousand Cossacks, is not exactly a man without means or options. The Russian Orthodox Church is hardly a marginalized institution. In other words, at present it is individuals and institutions of power who are looking for extra-judicial and extra-state agents to provide security and assert their authority. Conversely, it is people who might be considered on either the liberal or anti-Kremlin wings (for the two overlap but are not the same), from Ombudsman Vladimir Lukin to Memorial’s Lyudmila Alexeeva, who have been most critical about such efforts to bypass the formal agency of the state — the very state to which they are often opposed.

This could be explained simply as another expression of what Richard Sakwa calls the “dual state” whereby a formal, law-based one is complemented and often trumped by an informal, patrimonial one. But then why now?

I’d suggest that this reflects the growing crisis of what Brian Whitmore and I have taken to calling the “deep state,” the inner decision-making elite and the machinery of power they have constructed to allow them to run the country. So long as the key power blocs within the Russian state and the constellations of individuals and groups who control them felt happy and secure, they were comfortable with the status quo. However, it is a mark of the essentially feral self-interest which motivates these political entrepreneurs, that as soon as they become uneasy, they look to creating their own sources of economic, political and even coercive power. And, unlike the radicals, let alone ordinary Russians, they have the means to do so.

Let’s go back to those three drivers I raised at the start:

(1) a fragmenting social dynamic requiring groups and individuals to seek their own protection: that certainly seems a growing concern amongst these elite interests as protest emerges and, perhaps more importantly, the state seems uncertain how to proceed.

(2) deep-seated mistrust of the authorities’ will or ability to provide protection: again, yes: while they were happy to sit back and let the authorities look after them, that never translated into a faith that this would continue for ever (witness all that illegal capital flight — salting away funds Just In Case).

(3) a cultural bias towards self-help and summary justice that may reflect moral values but not necessarily the letter of the law: absolutely. Time and again, the elite’s willingness to go beyond the law in its own self interest has been made abundantly clear, from waving away the consequences of auto accidents all the way to complicity in the plunder of the economy.

Thus, the more we see powerful interests trying to raise muscular political movements, endorse vigilantes, create parallel policing and control structures, establish security agencies and woo non-state actors, the more we will actually be watching a deep state surface and break apart…

Not about Russia, for once: ‘Paths of Wickedness and Crime: the underworlds of the Renaissance Italian city’

I just wanted to let people know that a slender, speculative and no doubt thoroughly amateurish historical essay of mine considering the early forms of organized crime in Renaissance Italy has just been published. Paths of Wickedness and Crime: the underworlds of the Renaissance Italian city is available as a print-on-demand volume and PDF download here and is available be on Amazon, too. Here’s the blurb:

There were shadows to the Italian Renaissance. Just as art and philosophy were flourishing, so too were darker practices, from murder-for-hire to prostitution. However, despite popular parallels between families like the Borgia and the Medici and the Mafia, there has been little systematic examination of the presence of organised crime in the era. In this short and lively essay, Mark Galeotti rereads and occasional reinterprets the rich secondary literature to introduce a cast of corrupt princes, bandit chieftains, professional assassins, human traffickers, thugs and conmen and suggest that there were signs of the early beginnings of organised criminality in the towns and cities of late medieval and Renaissance Italy.

Though I would mention some distinct similarities — and inevitable differences — with the tsarist Russian underworld I explored in my article ‘The World of the Lower Depths: crime and punishment in Russian history,’ in Global Crime 9, 1-2 (2008)…

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