Well, it is better than a billing at the International Criminal Court or, more expeditiously, being hung from a Damascus lamp post in a feast of vengeance after decades of bloody oppression.
Bashar al-Assad, his wife Asma and their children have taken the classic coward’s single, first-class ticket deal, fleeing the benighted country they have left in ruins for the safe haven Moscow.
I can give at least an impression of what awaits them, having spent a number of years in the early 90s working on the memoirs of Markus Wolf with the East German spymaster, who had removed himself from the newly unified Germany’s justice system, and travelled to Moscow (and then, after being politely shooed out by Gorbachev, to a ski resort in Austria).
In the course of researching his story, I met a bizarre network of people hiding out in the Russian capital. It is the equivalent of the witness protection programme for those who have defected from the West for ideological reasons or prefer a sequestered life under heavy guard to the rigours of facing justice.
These days, they include a motley crew of Americans: soldiers of fortune who back Russia over Ukraine and the oddity of Steven Seagal, a renegade action-hero who took Russian citizenship and does interviews saying that he will “fight to the death for my president” in videos from the occupied territories of Ukraine while formally being a “cultural envoy” of the Russian Federation. And then there is Edward Snowden, the CIA document-leaker who told an (online) interviewer that he now “lives on the internet”.
Most “diplomatic guests” are allowed only to live in the capital. One of my sources had been parked on the Rublevskoe Chausee, the Moscow equivalent of Park Lane. Everything about the apartment was bleak, from the sofas, to the “greige” walls to the deep pile carpets. His Latin American wife grumbled that she had wanted to import colourful things, but that would draw attention, and imports were always a weak-spot, via which rival security sources could find out one’s whereabouts or plant bugs.
Security (which is another word for paranoia) is everywhere. The Kremlin, when it ticks the box (in Assad’s case at top speed for a fallen head of state in a “friendly” country), wants least of all that the new guest attracts trouble.
Similarly, after East Germany gave asylum to Middle East terrorists, including the multi-bomber, Carlos the Jackal, he was petrified of an assassination attempt or kidnap. So Carlos, whose main interests beyond killing were glitzy bars and prostitutes, was scolded for drinking (and more) in the hard-currency Palast Hotel in East Berlin and then sulked at home, complaining that he was being treated “like a prisoner”.
And prison with a valet service is really what this is. Loneliness has always been the curse of the defector: the “system” really does not want much to do with them (Putin has made clear that his offer to Assad does not include hanging out with his new guest).
Raison d’état is the only reason he is there – a gesture to show that Moscow does not forget its allies. The problem now is that the guest is a reminder of an intervention Putin will want to play down – the ghost of an alliance gone badly wrong.
Any visits will be closely vetted – and often refused. Putin is, in his cold heart, trained in the ultra-suspicious KGB world, in which any contact outside a close group is a risk. So the Assads better get along well in the family home. Creature comforts can of course be flown in, from foodstuffs, to their beloved Hermès and Dior clothes, to the fastest cars to drive them nowhere very exciting.
Wolf also gave me insight into how dull life had been, hiding out in Russia, when he introduced me to a former colleague from the KGB who had an excellent fish soup recipe. The two men scoured the markets of Moscow for the ingredients, Wolf muffled in the winter disguise of a large fur hat and sunglasses. They cooked the festive soup. Who did they entertain to enjoy it, I asked? “Just the two of us and our wives,” Wolf replied dolefully.
Intellectual boredom is a frequent complaint – so much so that Wolf had been asked to entertain the British spy for Moscow Kim Philby when Philby was in his Moscow exile. So he asked him to give a lecture to East German recruits. “We told him it was an honour,” Wolf explained. “But really, he just needed something to do.”
Assad’s vast wealth will get six-star options in terms of accommodation and staff. But the luxury world of Russia is enclosed. Putin-loyal wealthy circles socialize exclusively with each other and the “Kremlin kids” inter-marry. There is little room for or interest in outsiders – and a core of distrust of non-Russian money cannot budge.
The Moscow climate likely being unpalatable for much of the year, Assad may choose to spend time in the South, on the Black Sea. Even there, pleasures are limited. I spoke with one high-value defector who explained that when he took his small son, his security guard would stand on the edge of the waves until they returned. At some point, it’s harder to know whether one is being protected – or distrusted.
The system offers impunity, as long as the criminal can be claimed as one of “ours” and not “theirs” (the West’s).
As the months and years drag, relief at escaping death or prison curdles into a lesser but satisfactory punishment for those who used their untrammelled power to ruin so many lives: sheer boredom, irrelevance and the grinding knowledge that your hated enemies now run the show back home, while you watch YouTube on the internet.
Anne McElvoy is host of the Power Play podcast for POLITICO and co-author of Man Without A Face: The Autobiography Of Communism’s Greatest Spymaster
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