July 26th - - Russia Profile - South Ossetia Looks North

 

TSKHINVALI. Today, the checkpoint at the Ergneti Market resembles a ghost town. Collapsing metal structures lie deserted and rusting, and a few cars wait in line for document checks. Kalashnikov wielding Georgian soldiers stand idly by chewing sunflower seeds, while the southern slopes of the Caucasus mountains, visible through the clouds, lurk behind. A short distance from the market, the white-red-yellow tricolor flag of Hussar Iryston – the Republic of South Ossetia – flutters in the breeze. This is where Georgian control ends, and the “conflict zone” of South Ossetia begins.

 

Three years ago, the market was a cacophonous business forum – the epicenter of a smuggling route running from Moscow and southern Russia into Georgia, the Caspian region and on to the Middle East. The Ergneti Market was full of goods ranging from flour, cigarettes and alcohol to weapons. Trading ended in 2004; the market was closed as part of the drive to restore Georgia’s territorial integrity – one of the priorities of the new Georgian government headed by Mikheil Saakashvili, which had come to power in the Rose Revolution. Of Georgia’s three breakaway territories, the coastal region of Ajara was quickly brought back under Georgian control, but the other two – Abkhazia and South Ossetia – have proved more resistant to Tbilisi’s authority.

Having passed through the checkpoints at Ergneti, according to the map this is technically still Georgia, but the Georgian cab driver refuses to go any further and the Ossetian driver on the other side quotes his price in Russian rubles.

 

“Have you been to Yugoslavia?” he asks, as we begin the short drive from this unofficial border to the South Ossetian capital of Tskhinvali. “I was there for a year and a half, on contract for the Yugoslav Army in Kosovo. We certainly sorted out those Albanians,” he laughs, with an almost toothless smile.

 

It seems like an appropriate way to start a visit to this unrecognized state. Recent signs that some form of independence could be granted to Kosovo have given many in South Ossetia new hope in their drive for self-determination.

 

South Ossetia is the smallest of the four non-recognized entities that still smolder in the ruins of the Soviet Union, and it vies with Nagorno-Karabakh as perhaps the least viable independent state. Transdnestr has factories, heavy industry, and its own currency; Abkhazia has access to the sea and a substantial population. But given South Ossetia’s population of less than 70,000, a lack of even rudimentary economic infrastructure, and just a single passable road that leads somewhere besides Georgia, the idea of South Ossetian independence is little short of absurd.

 

But complete independence is not really what the region has in mind. “Our strategy has long been clear,” said the republic’s de facto president, Eduard Kokoity, at a recent press conference in Moscow. “[We aim for] the union of North and South Ossetia as a constituent part of the Russian Federation.”

 

 

Although there are several Georgian villages within South Ossetian territory that are controlled by Tbilisi, most of the republic is de facto under Russian rule. While Russia has stopped short of officially approving the legal union of the two Ossetias within Russia, what the Georgians see as a policy of informal annexation has long been underway. Over 90 percent of the residents hold Russian passports, pensions and officials’ salaries are paid for by Moscow, and local cell phones even have Russian numbers. A large poster on the road into Tskhinvali reads: “V.V. Putin: Our President!” and throughout Tskhinvali, the Russian flag flies alongside the Ossetian colors.

 

While most people converse in Ossetian, official documentation is in Russian and the entire population speaks it fluently. In contrast, the majority of younger Ossetians, educated since the breakup of the Soviet Union, speak no Georgian whatsoever. While older Ossetians are often fully literate in three languages – Russian, Georgian and Ossetian – those in their twenties know little more than a few Georgian curse words.

 

South Ossetians claim that they voluntarily joined Russia in the eighteenth century and have never left it, explaining their presence in Georgia as the result of the largely arbitrary nature of Soviet national boundaries, which have caused chaos across the post-Soviet space. The Ossetians say that there was no real reason for them to have been part of the Georgian Soviet Socialist Republic, which became the modern state of Georgia, and now it is time to rectify the mistake.

 

“South Ossetia has more legal and political precedents to become independent than Kosovo,” said Boris Chochiyev, the deputy prime minister of South Ossetia, in his office in Tskhinvali. “But Saakashvili and his kindergarten government in Tbilisi are not interested in a peaceful solution to the problem.”

 

 

Certainly, rhetoric in Georgia has stiffened in recent months. The Georgian leadership faces a dilemma, given that any military solution to the Ossetian issue would most likely deal a decisive blow to their overwhelming desire for Euro-Atlantic integration. However, there are hawkish voices in Tbilisi that seem to think it might be a price worth paying. Irakli Okruashvili, the 33-year-old Defense Minister, who was born in Tskhinvali, made the now-infamous statement that he would celebrate the coming New Year in Tskhinvali or resign.

 

Chochiyev claimed that he had information that U.S. President George W. Bush had told Saakashvili to “calm Okruashvili down” during a meeting between the two presidents at the White House in June. While his deputies and others have been performing implausible verbal contortions to suggest that Okruashvili merely meant that he wanted to enjoy a martini or two with friends in a Georgian area of South Ossetia, it’s clear that the military option remains on the table in at least some circles in Tbilisi. Further alarm has been caused by the renovations of a large Georgian military base in Gori, just 25 km (15 miles) from Tskhinvali, which includes a new military hospital and morgue.

 

Russia and Georgia have accused each other of preparing for military action. Recent Russian army maneuvers in the North Caucasus have caused concern in Tbilisi; while delegations from the Russian Embassy in Tbilisi have been stopped and turned back en route to Tskhinvali on more than one occasion. The July 9 assassination of Oleg Alborov, the head of South Ossetia’s Security Council, followed by a failed assassination attempt on a parliament deputy in the same week, led many in Tskhinvali to point fingers at the Georgians. “This is the start of the Georgian policy of physically exterminating the South Ossetian leadership,” says Irina Gagloyeva, head of the Ossetian government’s Press and Information Committee.

 

Some observers believe that the killing of Alborov was carried out by his enemies within the Kokoity government, and allowed Tskhinvali to kill two birds with one stone – removing an opponent and giving the impression that the Georgians were assassinating Ossetian officials. However, government figures in Tskhinvali, including personal friends of Alborov who also view the Kokoity administration as less than ideal, vehemently deny such a scenario.

 

“It’s typical black Georgian PR,” says one. “I knew Alborov personally, and I can tell you honestly that he had no enemies in South Ossetia,” says another. “To paint him as an enemy of Kokoity, or an advocate of rapprochement with the Georgians, is utterly absurd.” It is unlikely that the full story of the assassination will ever see the light of day.

 

In recent weeks, barely a day has passed without vitriolic statements from Moscow and Tbilisi, each claiming the other is planning for war. In mid July, Russian security services stated they had received intelligence indicating Tbilisi planned to fake a crisis by killing around 20 Georgian citizens and blaming it on the Russian peacekeeping forces stationed in the region.

 

Further fuel was added to the fire last week with the dismissal of State Minister for Conflict Resolution Georgi Khaindrava, who had publicly criticized Okruashvili and had repeatedly ruled out the use of force. “This is definitely a strengthening of the war party in Georgia,” says Sergei Markedonov, head of the Department for Inter-ethnic Relations at the Institute of Political and Military Analysis in Moscow. “It would be wrong to paint Khaindrava as some kind of uber-liberal voice, but his dismissal certainly signifies a higher degree of radicalization in Georgian policy.” Whatever the intricacies of Khaindrava’s position on the conflict, replacing their main negotiator at such a strained time shows that the Georgians are not afraid to raise the stakes.

 

Other analysts are divided on the significance of recent developments. “I don’t think the Georgians are ready to launch a military offensive,” says Oksana Antonenko, senior fellow at the International Institute for Strategic Studies in London. “They still believe they might get an Action Plan for NATO accession, and they have several things that are more important to them than South Ossetia, and on which they don’t want to compromise.”

 

In Tbilisi, Temuri Yakobashvili, executive vice president of the Georgian Foundation for Strategic and International Studies, sounds a more hawkish note. “Georgia is preparing for war,” he says bluntly. “If all the attempts to negotiate fail, what other option is Georgia left with?” He asserts, fairly plausibly, that Georgian forces could “take Tskhinvali in a couple of days,” but this would only be the start of a battle for control over the territory and the population.

 

The key strategic target in South Ossetia is the Roki Tunnel, which leads through the mountains between North and South Ossetia. Nearly four kilometers (2.5 miles) long, it is the lifeline connecting South Ossetia with Russia since it was blasted through the Caucasus mountains in 1981. The vast majority of goods once sold at the Ergneti Market arrived in South Ossetia via the Roki Tunnel. Though it marks the de jure international border between Georgia and Russia, Georgians have no control over the crossing.

 

The only other infrastructure linking the two countries (except for Psou which is under Abkhaz control) is on the Georgian Military Highway at Lars, which the Russians closed without warning recently for “reconstruction”. The symbolic and strategic value of controlling the route through the mountains is what makes this ostensibly insignificant patch of land so important to Georgia. Russia, however, has a much bigger fear – that war in South Ossetia could destabilize the entire North Caucasus. “The first thing would be that refugees would flood from South Ossetia into Russia,” says Sergei Markedonov. “It’s not the territory that is important to Russia but the effect that it would have.”

 

 

Back in Tskhinvali, such geopolitical concerns seem a world away. People stroll along the tree-lined streets, a row of old women chatter animatedly on a park bench, a shop sells giant, fresh “lavash” breads. It seems like a sleepy provincial town, and except for a few buildings that still bear the scars of the clashes of the early 1990s, there is little sign that this is a conflict zone.

 

There is, however, a noticeable absence of working-age people due to the lack of economic opportunities in the region. Most families have relatives in North Ossetia or the rest of Russia who send money home. “When children finish school here, there are two choices – go into the government, or go to North Ossetia,” says Vakhtang Dzhigkayev, advisor on economic issues to President Kokoity. “Doctors and teachers here receive salaries of around $60 per month. The demographic issue is our biggest problem – anyone who wants to work has to leave the republic – and it won’t be long before we reach a crisis point.”

 

Dzhigkayev proves to be a refreshing voice of reason. Having studied economics in St. Petersburg, where he claims to have known Vladimir Putin personally, and then in Germany, his moderate voice is at odds with many others in the Ossetian government. As he sits on a bench outside his home in Tskhinvali, the very fact that he is happy to openly criticize the Ossetian leadership suggests that the regime is not as iron-fisted as some make out. The picture he paints, however, is of a ruling elite that is far too short sighted for its own good.

 

“We need to be much more open – it sometimes seems that our only ally in the world is Russia, and the rest of the world is on the Georgians’ side,” he laments. “We should not be scared of European peacekeepers. If we had Swedes, or Belgians, or anyone neutral here, we would only benefit. They would understand our problems much better. I invited three specialists to come from the Venice Commission [the Council of Europe’s advisory body on constitutional matters], and it took me forever to get them accreditation. I was running around explaining to everyone why they should be let in. These are exactly the kind of links we need to be forging.”

 

Dzhigkayev still reserves the real criticism for the Georgians, however, accusing them of an “economic blockade” of South Ossetia, and laments the closure of the Ergneti Market. “People always talk about Ergneti as being full of contraband – but we are not talking about the smuggling of people or weaponry. It was ordinary people, making a bit of money selling flour, gasoline – everyday items. We wanted the market to be regulated and legalized; we offered to allow the Georgians to set up a customs post at the market, but they refused.”

 

Nobody knows the exact value of the goods that went through the market, but Dzhigkayev estimates the total to have been around $120 million per year. Estimates from the Georgian government and the International Crisis Group put the amount much higher; the ICG suggests that $130 million of wheat flour alone was traded at the market each year. And the loss is not just economic, Dzhigkayev adds. “Economic relations create horizontal links between the populations, which in turn increases trust.”

 

At the OSCE residence in Tbilisi, once fomer Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev’s dacha, Ambassador Roy Reeve, head of the OSCE Mission to Georgia, says that economic reconstruction of the conflict zone will be vital in the near future. A recent conference in Brussels attracted around $7 million in aid for the area to fund much needed infrastructure and development projects, ranging from rodent control to theater renovation to electricity provision.

“We’ve been trying to concentrate on the economic side, as was seen recently at the Brussels conference,” says Reeve. “We’re attempting to improve the lives of ordinary people through these projects. It will also mean a greater opening up of South Ossetia,” he says.

 

 

While economic regeneration progresses, a political solution does not seem to be on the horizon. The two sides fundamental positions’ leave little possibility for convergence. Georgian Deputy Defense Minister Mamuka Kudava bristles at the suggestion that neither side is willing to make fundamental concessions.

 

“Georgia has made very public concessions several times, and is ready to give substantial autonomy status to these two regions,” says Kudava. “We are ready to give South Ossetia much more autonomy within Georgia than North Ossetia enjoys within Russia. You want to speak about federation? No problem. About autonomy? No problem.”

 

The problem is, of course, that the South Ossetians do not want to speak about either of these options, and view any solution that keeps them part of Georgia as unacceptable. “In 1990 we asked the Georgians for autonomy and we got war. That door is now closed,” says Dmitry Medoyev, the South Ossetian envoy to Moscow. “The idea of returning to a federation, or even discussing it, is not an option.”

 

“The Georgians are fascists of the highest order,” says Irina Gagloyeva, the head of the Press Committee in Tskhinvali. “Even Hitler couldn’t have dreamed of some of the things they have done,” she says with a deadly serious face, her words hardly suggesting that an integrationist compromise might be possible.

 

But part of the problem seems to be that those in Tbilisi are unwilling to engage with the demands of the Ossetian people on any level. “We are not talking about what the South Ossetians want; there are only 10,000 people in Tskhinvali anyway,” says Kudava, getting to the crux of the issue. “It makes no sense to talk about what the South Ossetians want. This is about Georgia and Russia.”

 

This attitude lies at the heart of Georgia’s failed attempts to win back South Ossetia. But unless South Ossetian demands are addressed there seems little chance of a peaceful Georgian takeover. “If there is anyone left alive in Tskhinvali, then Okruashvili’s promise that he will celebrate New Year here will not come true,” asserts Gagloyeva in Tskhinvali.

 

Statements by the South Ossetian leadership reveal a somewhat ambivalent attitude towards Russia. “We trust them, because without them we could not exist,” says Chochiyev, the breakaway region’s deputy prime minister. “We know they only support us out of their own self-interest,” adds Gagloyeva. “But we have only survived the last 15 years because of them.”

 

Ossetian attitudes towards Georgia, however, have their roots in the violence of the early 1990s and before and contain no ambivalence whatsoever. “To the Georgians, the most important thing is the territory, and not the people who live in these territories and their attitudes towards Georgia,” says Chochiyev.

 

“I remember Khaindrava saying that South Ossetia didn’t need any kind of peacekeeping force – neither Russian nor international,” says Markedonov of the Institute of Political and Military Analysis. “He said the Georgians can go in and sort everything out themselves with the Ossetians. I told him: ‘That’s what you did in the early 1990s. You certainly did sort everything out. A thousand were killed and Russia received 43,000 refugees.’”

 

The thousands of refugees – Ossetians who fled parts of Georgia and Georgians who left Tskhinvali – are another fraught aspect of the ongoing conflict. Some elderly Georgians have returned to Ossetia, but most never expect to return, while many Ossetians who were previously well integrated into Georgia now reside in North Ossetia.

 

The combination of complex problems suggests that, barring a Georgian military takeover, any negotiated solution to the problem will take many years. “The conflict will not be resolved in the foreseeable future, of that I am absolutely certain,” says Oksana Antonenko. She feels that Georgia’s best strategy is to continue with its own renaissance and provide an alternative that is genuinely appealing. “This will depend on whether Saakashvili can maintain the level of economic improvement and make Georgia an attractive place,” she says.

Temuri Yakobashvili in Tbilisi admits: “We, together with the international community, need to give the Ossetians assurances that the Georgia they rejoin will be a different Georgia.” He claims that the choice for South Ossetia is clear: “Brussels or Beslan.” It’s a nice soundbite, but the real choice at the moment seems to be “Moscow or Tbilisi,” and for South Ossetia right now, there is only one answer.