TIME Magazine: Death and Chaos in Kiev
02/21/2001 | Broker
Death and Chaos in Kiev
Accused of abusing his power, Ukraine's President faces rising public sentiment for impeachment
BY PAUL QUINN-JUDGE
Sergei Dolzhenko - AFP
Demonstrations in Kiev rage over the President's taped remarks about murdered journalist Gongadze
Printable Version
Ukraine president Leonid Kuchma likes to project himself as a reassuring figure—a little colorless, perhaps, but a leader who would gently bring Ukraine economically and politically closer to the West. Some people believed in the image: Ukraine was a big favorite of the Clinton Administration and the third-largest recipient of U.S. aid, after Israel and Egypt. That reputation has now disintegrated amid allegations of state-sponsored murder, election fraud and a series of taped office conversations that apparently portray Kuchma as a foul-mouthed thug surrounded by violent and sycophantic aides. The country is on the brink of open conflict as opponents take to the streets demanding Kuchma's impeachment, while he hints ominously at a crackdown on opposition "fascism."
Last week, however, Kuchma was struggling to recover his balance. In the southern city of Dnepropetrovsk, far from demonstrations in the capital, Kiev, he welcomed Russian President Vladimir Putin for a pointedly warm series of meetings intended to signal newfound affection for Ukraine's eastern neighbor. Putin steered clear of politics during the visit, stressing instead agreements on energy and economic cooperation. Soon after the Kuchma-Putin meeting, Ukrainian authorities arrested Yuliya Tymoshenko, a business magnate, former Deputy Premier and one of the main leaders of the opposition demonstrations. She is held in connection with allegations that she handed out almost $80 million in bribes.
Neither side has been able to seize the initiative yet, though both predict victory. "Kuchma won't risk a crackdown," says opposition leader Oleksandr Moroz, who maintains that the President will be out of office by early June. But the government rhetoric is hardening. In an address to the nation last week Kuchma accused the opposition of playing "games under slogans of democracy which put the very existence of Ukraine, its territorial integrity and social peace at stake." One of the President's closest allies, parliament Speaker Ivan Plushch, meanwhile told TIME that, if the opposition spurned the government's call for dialogue, "we'll act in conformance with the law."
The brutal story of how Ukraine slipped into this mess is quickly told. One night in mid-September last year, 31-year-old Internet journalist Heorhiy Gongadze, who specialized in government corruption investigations, failed to return to his home in Kiev. In early November a headless body, almost certainly his, was found in a forest near the capital. Three weeks later Moroz, the leader of Ukraine's Socialist Party, made public a transcript of what he said were taped conversations between Kuchma and key advisers. It was sleazy stuff, much of it directed against Gongadze—no actual talk of murder, but lots of violence, cynicism and unbroken obscenity. "Give him [Gongadze] to the Chechens," says a voice identified as that of Kuchma. Another voice, allegedly belonging to Interior Minister Yuri Kravchenko, makes the sinister boast that he has a special "combat team," the Eagles, that can be relied on to do anything the President requires.
The recordings, Moroz revealed, were made by Major Mykola Melnychenko, a former member of the presidential security detail who is now in hiding somewhere in Europe. As with most of the other main characters in this story, Melnychenko's motives are not clear—though he says he acted after he heard anticonstitutional acts being discussed by Kuchma and his aides. Over a period of 18 months to two years, according to Moroz, Melnychenko recorded conversations in the President's office using a digital tape recorder hidden under a couch.
The government at first denied the tapes were authentic, asserting that there was no way anyone could bug the President's office. But earlier this month officials reversed themselves. Prosecutor General Mykhaylo Potebenko, a faithful servant of the President, admitted that the voices were real but claimed the conversations were not: the tapes had been compiled, he asserted, from individual words and fragments. Immediately after his confusing admission Potebenko went on extended sick leave. Some Russian officials, as well as suspicious Ukrainian nationalists, feel the crisis provides an opportunity for Russia to restore its eroded influence in Ukraine. But the Kremlin has avoided making any statements that are overtly supportive of Kuchma. Their caution suggests that they are less optimistic about the presidential future than Kuchma pretends to be.
Accused of abusing his power, Ukraine's President faces rising public sentiment for impeachment
BY PAUL QUINN-JUDGE
Sergei Dolzhenko - AFP
Demonstrations in Kiev rage over the President's taped remarks about murdered journalist Gongadze
Printable Version
Ukraine president Leonid Kuchma likes to project himself as a reassuring figure—a little colorless, perhaps, but a leader who would gently bring Ukraine economically and politically closer to the West. Some people believed in the image: Ukraine was a big favorite of the Clinton Administration and the third-largest recipient of U.S. aid, after Israel and Egypt. That reputation has now disintegrated amid allegations of state-sponsored murder, election fraud and a series of taped office conversations that apparently portray Kuchma as a foul-mouthed thug surrounded by violent and sycophantic aides. The country is on the brink of open conflict as opponents take to the streets demanding Kuchma's impeachment, while he hints ominously at a crackdown on opposition "fascism."
Last week, however, Kuchma was struggling to recover his balance. In the southern city of Dnepropetrovsk, far from demonstrations in the capital, Kiev, he welcomed Russian President Vladimir Putin for a pointedly warm series of meetings intended to signal newfound affection for Ukraine's eastern neighbor. Putin steered clear of politics during the visit, stressing instead agreements on energy and economic cooperation. Soon after the Kuchma-Putin meeting, Ukrainian authorities arrested Yuliya Tymoshenko, a business magnate, former Deputy Premier and one of the main leaders of the opposition demonstrations. She is held in connection with allegations that she handed out almost $80 million in bribes.
Neither side has been able to seize the initiative yet, though both predict victory. "Kuchma won't risk a crackdown," says opposition leader Oleksandr Moroz, who maintains that the President will be out of office by early June. But the government rhetoric is hardening. In an address to the nation last week Kuchma accused the opposition of playing "games under slogans of democracy which put the very existence of Ukraine, its territorial integrity and social peace at stake." One of the President's closest allies, parliament Speaker Ivan Plushch, meanwhile told TIME that, if the opposition spurned the government's call for dialogue, "we'll act in conformance with the law."
The brutal story of how Ukraine slipped into this mess is quickly told. One night in mid-September last year, 31-year-old Internet journalist Heorhiy Gongadze, who specialized in government corruption investigations, failed to return to his home in Kiev. In early November a headless body, almost certainly his, was found in a forest near the capital. Three weeks later Moroz, the leader of Ukraine's Socialist Party, made public a transcript of what he said were taped conversations between Kuchma and key advisers. It was sleazy stuff, much of it directed against Gongadze—no actual talk of murder, but lots of violence, cynicism and unbroken obscenity. "Give him [Gongadze] to the Chechens," says a voice identified as that of Kuchma. Another voice, allegedly belonging to Interior Minister Yuri Kravchenko, makes the sinister boast that he has a special "combat team," the Eagles, that can be relied on to do anything the President requires.
The recordings, Moroz revealed, were made by Major Mykola Melnychenko, a former member of the presidential security detail who is now in hiding somewhere in Europe. As with most of the other main characters in this story, Melnychenko's motives are not clear—though he says he acted after he heard anticonstitutional acts being discussed by Kuchma and his aides. Over a period of 18 months to two years, according to Moroz, Melnychenko recorded conversations in the President's office using a digital tape recorder hidden under a couch.
The government at first denied the tapes were authentic, asserting that there was no way anyone could bug the President's office. But earlier this month officials reversed themselves. Prosecutor General Mykhaylo Potebenko, a faithful servant of the President, admitted that the voices were real but claimed the conversations were not: the tapes had been compiled, he asserted, from individual words and fragments. Immediately after his confusing admission Potebenko went on extended sick leave. Some Russian officials, as well as suspicious Ukrainian nationalists, feel the crisis provides an opportunity for Russia to restore its eroded influence in Ukraine. But the Kremlin has avoided making any statements that are overtly supportive of Kuchma. Their caution suggests that they are less optimistic about the presidential future than Kuchma pretends to be.