Who was actually behind attack?
Russia has so far come up with more than 30 narratives for the poisoning of Sergei Skripal. It is a classic demonstration of the Stalinist disinformation technique known as maskirovka, or ‘‘little masquerade’’, which is designed to sow confusion and uncertainty.
The British narrative, by contrast, remains fairly simple: Russia was behind the attack, carried out using high-grade, pure novichok, the Russian-made nerve agent. ‘‘Only Russia has the technical means, operational experience and motive for the attack on the Skripals ... it is highly likely that the Russian state was responsible,’’ wrote Sir Mark Sedwill, Britain’s national security adviser, in a letter to Nato.
But behind the logical assertion of overall Russian guilt lie a host of possibilities and unanswered questions: who administered the poison, what was the level of Kremlin authorisation, and why now?
On March 12, a week after the poisoning, Theresa May offered just two possibilities: ‘‘Either this was a direct act by the Russian state against our country. Or the Russian government lost control of this potentially catastrophically damaging nerve agent and allowed it to get into the hands of others.’’
Between those two poles lie an array of possibilities, in which the assassins were encouraged, facilitated, prompted, armed, nudged or protected, to an as yet undetermined extent, by Russia. There are several reasons the attempted murder does not look like a typical Russian stateauthorised hit. For a start, it didn’t work and was done in a way that seems remarkably sloppy. The poison was easily traceable to Russia. It took out a member of the target’s family, something Russian (and Soviet) assassins have traditionally avoided.
The idea Vladimir Putin authorised the attack as a preelection poll boost is fanciful. He was never in danger of anything other than an overwhelming victory. Moreover, a specific order risks being traced back to the top, something Putin is very good at avoiding.
The fallout has left him with much of his global intelligence network dismantled after the coordinated expulsion of 153 diplomats suspected of espionage, the largest collective eviction of Russian intelligence officers in history. It will take Russia years to rebuild its intelligence-gathering capability, not something Putin wanted or expected.
A more likely explanation than a direct order is what might be called the Henry II explanation: who will rid me of these turbulent spies? At some point, perhaps quite some time in the past, the Kremlin probably made apparent, explicitly or implicitly, that it was open season on ‘‘traitors"; that killing double-crossing spies would not only be unpunished, but might be encouraged, even facilitated. Perhaps, as in the murder of Thomas a Becket, Putin did not much mind who did the killing, or how, or even who was killed, retaining a distance while creating the political atmosphere in which others could do the work. But who?
The Ukrainian connection: The pro-Russian, Moscow-backed separatists in eastern Ukraine have a vested interest in driving a wedge between Moscow and the West. There were signs, albeit faint, Putin was inching towards some sort of accommodation over the Ukrainian conflict. That possibility now seems more distant than ever in the wake of the diplomatic fallout over the Skripal poisoning; exactly what the pro-Russian separatists want.
Donbass is a long way from Salisbury but one outcome of that episode is the certain continuation of the conflict.
The Syrian connection: If the pro-Russian rebels are rubbing their hands at the international impact of the attempted assassination, Bashar al-Assad may be even more pleased. The incident has had the effect of reinforcing the unholy alliance between Syria and Russia, and under withering condemnation from the West, Putin has emphatically reasserted his support for the Syrian regime.
Syria is expert in the deployment of death by chemicals, as evidenced by the attack on Douma. The military relationship between Damascus and Moscow is close. At the time Russia was developing novichok in the early 1980s, Hafez, Bashar’s father, was using chemical weapons to put down the Sunni Muslim uprising in Hama. If anyone could obtain stocks of nerve agent from Russia without many questions asked, it was Syria.
Was this a Syrian-backed hit, designed to please Putin, but also to reinforce the alliance on which Assad’s power depends?
The military connection: Skripal was not just any spy, but a spy for and against the Russian military machine. He was a former paratrooper, a veteran of the Soviet war in Afghanistan, and a career officer in the GRU, the vast Russian military intelligence service. The people he betrayed to MI6 were fellow GRU officers and he continued to spy for Britain while working in the Moscow regional government after his retirement – a job obtained for him by his former commanding officer in Afghanistan.
Like all veterans, the men who fought in Afghanistan share an intense bond. Russia’s Afghan veterans look back in much the same way as Vietnam War veterans in the US: on a failed campaign, soaked in sacrifice and comradeship, that mere civilians cannot understand. Skripal was not just a traitor to his country; in the eyes of fellow Afghan veterans, he betrayed a sacred loyalty to his brothers in arms. Novichok was developed for military use; the military may have used it on Skripal.
Murder victims usually know their killer, and the main flaw in the assassins’ plan is Skripal survived. As soon as he regained consciousness, the Russian spy will have been peppered with questions, which can all be boiled down to one: whodunnit?