Telling You What Cruelty Is

After news of the peace talks with Chechnya leaked from Moscow, shockwaves rippled through the world. The United States and its allies saw it as undeniable proof that the Soviet Union was unraveling—too weak to suppress rebellions, forced to negotiate with separatists rather than crush them. For Dudayev, it was a chance to posture boldly.

In a brazen statement, Dudayev declared the complete separation of Chechnya from the Soviet Union, vowing to build a pure religious state and to eradicate communists from Chechen soil. Moscow's silence in response was unusual—an unsettling quiet that many interpreted as tacit tolerance. Emboldened, Dudayev escalated provocations: demolishing Lenin's portrait, destroying communist monuments, and clashing openly with Soviet troops stationed in the region.

Despite his arrogance, Dudayev remained cautious. Since the uprising, many of his former contacts in the army vanished overnight, leaving him isolated and watchful. Thus, he dispatched only his closest confidant, political aide Yandabiyev, to Moscow to negotiate. In truth, Yandabiyev was little more than a mouthpiece, conveying a singular message: no negotiations unless Chechnya's full sovereignty was guaranteed.

Yandabiyev, with his trademark beard and white cap, took his place at the Kremlin table. The nationalist poet, children's author, and commander of the Chechen illegal armed forces had become Russia's second most wanted man after Dudayev's December 1994 invasion. Yanayev, recalling Yandabiyev's bloody résumé—kidnappings in Dagestan, airport bombings, hostage crises—wished he could silence him with a single bullet.

"Greetings, President Yanaev," Yandabiyev began, voice smooth and calculated. "I come from Grozny with sincerity, hoping Moscow will respond in kind. For peace and the sake of our children's future."

Yanaev returned a measured smile. "Of course. For peace and future generations, Moscow comes with sincere goodwill."

But Yandabiyev was no fool. No sooner had he sat than he unleashed demands.

"Chechnya must be fully independent—politically, economically, sovereign in every way. Moscow must withdraw all troops immediately. We will not tolerate Soviet soldiers on our land."

Yanaev spread his palm calmly. "Agreed. Please continue."

"We will prohibit communism's spread in Chechnya. All communists must be expelled."

This was no longer mere bargaining—it was a direct affront to Soviet legitimacy.

"Whatever you wish," Yanaev replied solemnly, without a trace of irony.

Yandabiyev faltered, unnerved by Yanaev's steady acceptance. "The third condition—full diplomatic sovereignty. Chechnya must sign treaties with any nation without Moscow's interference."

"You already have sovereignty," Yanaev laughed lightly. "The Soviet Union will not interfere."

Yandabiyev's joy was palpable. "Then let us sign the treaty."

"Certainly," Yanaev said, nonchalantly raising his index finger. "But there is one simple condition."

"Which?" Yandabiyev asked, wary.

"Defeat the Soviet army."

Yandayiyev's smile froze. Could the so-called peace talks be a trap? "This isn't funny, President Yanaev. Do you truly want war?"

"Who's joking?" Yanaev's voice deepened, the commanding presence of the Soviet leader filling the room. Yandabiyev instinctively shifted back.

"Let me clarify two points," Yanaev continued. "First, I am not joking. Chechnya's independence comes only after defeating our army. Second, Chechnya is not a country—it is Soviet territory. Do not misrepresent yourselves."

"Defeat us, and independence—and everything else—is yours," Yanaev said, voice cold. "But you'll have to cross the corpses of countless Soviet soldiers. By the way, a week ago our armored divisions arrived at Chechnya's border, transported swiftly by our advanced railway system. Time is not on your side."

Yazov and Varennikov had played their parts well, helping Yanaev stage a convincing show—one that not only deceived the short-sighted Chechen opposition leaders but also kept some senior Moscow officials in the dark.

Yandabiyev's expression darkened with shock and fury. Dudayev had warned him, but hearing it firsthand was a brutal awakening. He forced a cold, tight smile and answered with feigned calm:"President Yanaev, then I promise you this—we will kill every Soviet soldier who steps foot in Chechnya. We will cut off their heads and hang them on trees as a warning."

"Oh? Really?" Yanaev's tone was casual, almost bored, as if discussing the weather. "Then let me tell you something in return. For every Soviet soldier you behead, we will hang those militants responsible for massacres in Chechnya—and their families—on trees and telephone poles for all to see."

He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping into a deadly whisper:"As for the leaders of your armed groups, when our army captures them, they won't be sent to prison. They will be executed on the spot. Their bodies will be doused with lard and burned. And should you dare retaliate by executing prisoners, rest assured the KGB will kidnap your family members—just as they did to the Taliban—and tear them into hundreds of pieces, sending the remains back as a message. Our agents are experts in this craft."

Yanaev's eyes locked coldly on Yandabiyev's."For every one you execute, we will kill ten of your people. And we will keep killing—relentlessly—until fear paralyzes you. I've heard you have a son, a young boy. Would you like to see his body torn apart and scattered like a jigsaw puzzle sent back to you?"

He straightened and smiled thinly."This will be an order passed down the chain. Think you can outmatch us in cruelty? The Soviet Union has a reputation as the most brutal regime in the world. If that's the charge—inhuman massacre—I will wear it proudly."

Yandabiyev's pale face betrayed the terror beneath his forced composure. Each word from Yanaev was like a dagger, cutting deep into the heart of his resistance. To Yandabiyev, Yanaev no longer looked like a leader, but a merciless devil smiling calmly in the face of destruction.

"For me," Yanaev said quietly, raising his teacup slowly, "Chechnya is not a rebellion. It is a merciless war against terrorists."

He set down the cup with finality and delivered his sentence:"One more thing, Yandabiyev. You will die here. You will never return home."