Imagine losing the Vietnam War, then going back for a replay. That's what Russia appears to be doing in Chechnya. Three years after suffering one of the most humiliating defeats in its history at the hands of a small, improvised army of Chechen guerrillas, Russia last week was once again in a state of undeclared war with the mountainous republic. And the conflict is about to escalate dramatically. The first Russian ground forces have crossed the frontier, thrusting into two northern Chechen districts, while Russian commandos--the Spetsnaz--are reportedly moving into the northeast. In keeping with the best traditions of Soviet propaganda, Moscow announced that "the local people" in several Chechen districts are rising up against Islamic extremists. An estimated 50,000 to 60,000 additional Russian troops are massed on Chechnya's borders, awaiting the order to move. Overhead, Russian warplanes continued the systematic destruction of Chechnya's communications and bridges. Late last week Russian air force commander General Anatoly Kornukov said he needed a week to 10 days to finish his offensive.
Barring a sudden diplomatic breakthrough, a major ground war is about to explode. The Russian military has clamped tight censorship on its operations, but political leaders have difficulty containing their glee at the prospect of hitting back at the unruly, predominately Islamic state that has been infuriating them for the past five years. Officially, they have been goaded past endurance by alleged Chechen acts of terrorism, including the spectacular bombings of four apartment buildings in Moscow and elsewhere last month. But Chechnya's determination to secede from Russia is equally a target. When asked about Russian incursions into Chechnya, Prime Minister Vladimir Putin, the latest in President Boris Yeltsin's revolving cast of legislative leaders, gave a sinister little smile and explained that the term incursion didn't apply. "We don't have a border with Chechnya," he said. "Chechnya is part of the Russian Federation." In the Chechen capital of Grozny, guerrilla leader Shamil Basayev displayed his own brand of black humor, calling for a massive hole to be dug in the Russian cemetery on the edge of the shattered city in preparation for a new pile of Russian corpses.
In Washington the Clinton Administration is following events with alarm. "We have asked the Russians to clarify their actions and intentions," says State Department spokesman James Rubin, adding that the U.S. is urging constructive dialogue on both sides. The use of force, he says, "will make dialogue that much harder to occur."
There was something wildly irrational in the Kremlin's thinking, starting with the notion that a second Chechnya war would be more winnable than the first one. Three years ago, a demoralized and disastrously led Russian army was savaged by Chechnya's hastily assembled guerrillas. The only obvious difference now is that there are more Chechen fighters. Since the bloody debacle of 1994-'96, the Russian army's disintegration has continued. Budget cuts and corruption have undermined its strength and reduced training to a bare minimum, while morale has dropped even lower. But by some bizarre process of mental alchemy, the top Russian brass feels it can get it right this time.