Putin’s warlord doubles down in Ukraine now

In a war fought over Telegram as well as on Ukraine’s pummeled streets, the country’s actor-turned-president Volodymyr Zelenskiy has excelled. But for over-the-top showmanship, Chechen leader Ramzan Kadyrov and his men have been hard to beat.
Kadyrov’s fighters, known as “kadyrovtsy,” have been waging an all-out propaganda war for the TikTok era, attempting to demonstrate their leader’s loyalty to Russian President Vladimir Putin, while burnishing a reputation for being ruthless and battle-hardened, leaning heavily on useful Caucasus stereotypes. Dramatic social media footage of soldiers with cutting-edge kit abounds. Last month, Kadyrov taunted billionaire Elon Musk, who had offered to fight Putin, calling him “Elona” and suggesting he train in Chechnya to “pump up”.
Make no mistake, these men really have been involved in combat over the past weeks, and they’ve fought for the Kremlin before, in Syria, and in Crimea. But for all their supposed experience, with their heavy-handed PR campaign, Kadyrov and his fighters have come to exemplify the pure brutishness, overconfidence, distorted self-image, and desperate efforts at self-preservation common to Russian officials and military forces in Putin’s invasion of Ukraine — not least the Russian leader himself.
Formally head of the region since 2007, Kadyrov has effectively run Chechnya as a fief since his father, rebel turned collaborator, was killed 18 years ago. He holds control with the help of his own brand of ruthlessness, restrictions, a bilious cult of personality and billions in annual subsidies from Moscow that have funded shiny buildings and top-of-the-range military equipment. Although a creature of the Kremlin, the bearded 45-year-old is distrusted and disliked among Russian security services and other elites, who tolerate him only as the price of keeping the lid on trouble.
The late Russian journalist Anna Politkovskaya provided perhaps the best snapshot of Kadyrov in a chilling 2004 portrait written after a visit to the family compound outside Grozny. Crass and aggressive, surrounded by armed men, the then-27-year-old brags, talks up dog fights and describes himself as a “warrior” who takes no orders. He threatens her, calls her an “enemy.” In the end, she fears for her life and describes him as a baby dragon the Kremlin has fostered: “Now it needs to be fed constantly, so that it does not spew fire.”
Politkovskaya was fatally shot on her Moscow doorstep in 2006.
In this war, Chechen fighters have seen action around Kyiv and in Mariupol, where Chechen officials reported Kadyrov made an appearance. According to Ukrainian security forces, these militias, operating as Russian national guard or Rosgvardia units, are being used to cow Russia’s own demotivated soldiers into submission and prevent desertion. Other rumours suggest they perform “sweep” operations among the local population, something Kadyrov has hinted at, writing on Telegram that “the clean-up of the city of Mariupol is going at full speed.” Terror, as Russian forces have demonstrated outside Kyiv, is a Russian tactic, and using Chechen fighters certainly sends that message clearly.
For Kadyrov, though, the detail hardly matters. His enthusiasm for the fight is simple — he wants to demonstrate his fealty, and to secure his political and economic rewards from Moscow. Days after the war began, he made a beeline for the minister of finance.
Michael Kofman, director of Russia Studies at CNA, a US-based research body, describes Moscow’s predicament in Ukraine as attempting to fight a limited conventional war in the largest country in Europe (after Russia), with forces grossly insufficient for the territory they are trying to capture. Much of its military is a spent or exhausted force.

—Bloomberg