Tuesday, April 20, 2021

What Laws Constrain This Russian Private Military Company?
SAME AS AMERICAN LAWS FOR 'CONTRACTORS' 

By Zarko Perovic Tuesday, March 23, 2021, 


A photo of Wagner Group mercenaries at an unidentified location. 
(Photo from the Security Service of Ukraine)


On March 11, a Syrian national filed a complaint in Moscow against a company called the Wagner Group, for the torture, killing, and mutilation of his brother by Wagner employees. This complaint is part of a second attempt to criminally prosecute members of this elusive group for this case. The Russian newspaper Novaya Gazeta submitted a complaint regarding the case in 2019, but no action was taken.

The Wagner Group, a Russian private military company, has played a strategically important role in countries such as Syria, Ukraine and Libya—and it’s found itself repeatedly at the receiving end of U.S. sanctions. Wagner has helped Bashar al-Assad’s forces in the Syrian civil war and participated in the Russian takeover of Crimea. But are the group’s actions legal? Though Wagner’s activities are nominally regulated by both international law and the domestic laws of the countries where the group is present, these laws put relatively few constraints on Wagner’s operations.

Background


The U.N. Working Group on the Use of Mercenaries defines private military and security companies (PMSCs) as corporate entities that “provide[] on a compensatory basis military and/or security services by physical persons and/or legal entities.” Typically, PMSCs provide a wide variety of military or security services for either governments or corporations—short of participating in combat—and do not receive direction from their home governments on how to operate or receive any assistance. However, Wagner is different from most PMSCs in that Wagner employees often engage in combat operations. Additionally, the company has a close relationship with the Russian government, which actively helps Wagner secure its contracts.

The Washington Post suggests that Wagner may have been founded in 2014 by former Russian security contractor Dimitry Utkin. However, information to confirm that Utkin was the founder is lacking. But at some point over the past few years, Wagner reportedly came under the ownership of Yevgeny Prigozhin—a Russian entrepreneur with close links to the Kremlin who might be familiar to Lawfare readers as the owner of the Internet Research Agency troll farm. Wagner employees were among the “little green men” who participated in the Russian takeover of Crimea in 2014 and assisted Russian separatists in Eastern Ukraine attempting to secede from the country. The group also became involved in Syria, and New York Times and Foreign Policy reported that U.S.-backed Kurdish fighters killed somewhere around 200 to 600 Wagner employees in the city of Deir al-Zour in February 2018.

In September 2019, Wagner sent 200 of its employees to Mozambique but reportedly withdrew from the country after seven of its contractors were killed there. Beginning in 2020, Wagner employees appear to have been supporting Khalifa Haftar’s forces in Libya with alleged financing from the United Arab Emirates. Although not fully confirmed, some reports suggest that the group’s employees manned anti-tank positions for Armenian forces during the recent conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan in Nagorno-Karabakh. There are also reports that Wagner employees participated in combat, trained, and provided other security services in Azerbaijan, the Central African Republic, Libya, Madagascar, Mozambique, Rwanda, Sudan, Syria and Ukraine.

Due to the group’s involvement in conflicts in these countries, Wagner has been repeatedly targeted for sanctions by the U.S. government. In 2016, the U.S. Treasury Department placed sanctions on Prigozhin via executive order for his “extensive business dealings with the Russian Ministry of Defense” and for building bases to support Russian military actions in Ukraine. The Treasury Department has placed additional sanctions on Wagner since then. Most recently in July 2020, the Treasury Department updated previous sanctions against Wagner for its entities’ activities in Sudan.

Legal Context

Wagner is subject to a range of laws and conventions related to mercenarism. The relevant legal regime includes national laws in the different countries regulating mercenaries; the International Convention against the Recruitment, Use, Financing and Training of Mercenaries (ICRUFTM); the Additional Protocol (I) to the Geneva Conventions; and the Organization of African Unity Convention for the Elimination of Mercenarism in Africa (OAU CEM).

The below table lists the status of these laws and conventions in countries where Wagner operates (see also the accompanying map). All the listed countries except Azerbaijan have ratified Additional Protocol I of the Geneva Convention.

Law Source

Country/Countries

ICRUFTM ratified and enacted national law regulating mercenaries

Azerbaijan, Ukraine


Enacted national law regulating mercenaries

Mozambique


ICRUFTM ratified + OAU CEM ratified

Libya


ICRUFTM ratified

Syria


OAU CEM ratified

Rwanda, Sudan


None

Central African Republic, Madagascar








Key. W: where the Wagner Group operates or has operated; blue: where the ICRUFTM has been ratified; light green: where the OAU CEM has been ratified; dark green: where the ICRUFTM and the OAU CEM have been ratified.

These laws and conventions are quite similar, although their exact wording varies, and they typically regulate two things. First, they prohibit individuals from participating in conflicts as mercenaries. Second, they criminalize individuals, organizations, or states engaging with mercenaries such as by recruiting, financing, or training them.

These laws and conventions attempt to regulate companies like Wagner by prohibiting individuals from providing security and military services in certain ways—generally, participating in hostilities, or recruiting, financing, and training mercenaries. Most provisions have a similar definition of mercenaries, though there are some small distinctions among them.

International Conventions


The ICRUFTM has a five-factor test to determine who is a mercenary. Under the convention, a mercenary (a) is specifically recruited locally or abroad in order to fight in an armed conflict; (b) is motivated to take part in hostilities for private gain and is promised material compensation substantially in excess of that promised or paid to combatants of similar rank and functions in the armed forces of that party; (c) is neither a national of a party to the conflict nor a resident of territory controlled by a party to the conflict; (d) is not a member of the armed forces of a party to the conflict; and (e) has not been sent by a state that is not a party to the conflict on official duty as a member of its armed forces. Someone who fulfills these criteria and “participates directly in hostilities or in a concerted act of violence” is in violation of the convention.

The convention leaves it to states to punish violators of the convention. Under Article 5, states parties “shall make the offences set forth in the present Convention punishable by appropriate penalties which take into account the grave nature of those offences.” So far only 37 countries have ratified the convention: nine in Latin America and the Caribbean; eight of the former Soviet Republics; eight in West Africa; and a few others, including Italy, Saudi Arabia and Syria.

The OAU CEM has a test almost identical to that of the ICRUFTM, but the conventions vary on a few points. In addition to the five factors listed in the ICRUFTM, the OAU CEM narrows the definition of a mercenary to “any person who … does in fact take a direct part in the hostilities.” However, it expands the second factor, compensation, by requiring someone to be motivated simply by private gain to be considered a mercenary—not just gain that is substantially in excess of that promised to similar combatants. If someone fulfills all six OAU CEM factors, then this individual is considered to have committed “a crime against peace and security in Africa.” According to Article 7 of the convention, states are to make an Article 1 offense punishable by the “severest penalties under [their] laws, including capital punishment,” but the convention does not prescribe or institute any punishments itself.

Article 47 of Additional Protocol I of the Geneva Convention, like the OAU CEM, uses a six-factor test to define who constitutes a mercenary. Those who qualify as mercenaries are not eligible for combatant or prisoner of war status. Like the OAU CEM, Additional Protocol I requires an individual to take direct part in hostilities to be considered a mercenary. However, in defining what constitutes a mercenary, Additional Protocol I uses a definition similar to the ICRUFTM’s regarding compensation, requiring someone to be compensated substantially in excess of that promised or paid to combatants of similar rank and functions.

National Laws


Only three countries where Wagner operates have created laws criminalizing mercenarism: Azerbaijan, Mozambique and Ukraine. Ukraine and Azerbaijan’s mercenary laws follow the ICRUFTM and OAU CEM definitions quite closely, while Mozambique enacted its own unique definition.

Ukraine’s definition of a mercenary, under Article 447 of the Ukrainian criminal code, uses a five-factor test similar to the ICRUFTM test. However, Ukraine changes the first factor regarding recruitment and expands it. Instead of covering only “fighting in an armed conflict,” the first factor extends the mercenary definition to people who participate in “military or violent actions aimed at forcible change or overthrow of the constitutional order, seizure of state power, or obstruction of the activity of state authorities on the territory of Ukraine or the territory of other states or violation of territorial integrity.” Regarding the second factor, participating in conflict for private gain, the Ukrainian criminal code follows the OAU CEM in requiring that a mercenary work only for the purpose of obtaining “any personal gain” rather than for compensation that substantially exceeds the gain of combatants of similar rank and function. An individual who fulfills this definition and participates “in an armed conflict, military or violent acts” can be punished with imprisonment of five to 10 years.

In contrast to Ukraine, the criminal code of Azerbaijan applies a three-factor test that is similar to the OAU CEM test but removes the first factor (recruitment) and the fourth factor (no membership in armed forces of a party to the conflict). Moreover, Article 114 of the Azerbaijan criminal code follows the OUA CEM and Ukraine in regards to the second factor (compensation) by requiring only that someone works “with a view of reception of material compensation.” If an individual falls under this definition and participates in a “confrontation or military operations,” this individual “shall be punished by imprisonment for … three up to eight years.”

Mozambique’s criminal code has its own unique two-factor test to define mercenaries. Under Article 163 of the code, individuals commit the crime of mercenarism if they try to overthrow a legitimately constituted foreign government by armed violence and do so with an armed force composed entirely or in part of foreigners. Offenders are to be punished with 16 to 20 years of imprisonment.

While Russia itself criminalized mercenarism under Article 359 of its criminal code, it seems unlikely that the country would ever use such a law against the group due to Wagner’s close relationship with Russia’s Ministry of Defense. Russia’s definition of a mercenary is quite similar to Azerbaijan’s in that Russia’s test also removes the first factor (recruitment) and the fourth factor (membership in the armed forces of a party to the conflict). If someone fulfills the definition and participates in “an armed conflict or hostilities,” this crime will be punishable by a “deprivation of liberty for a term of three to seven years.”

Prohibitions on Engaging With Mercenaries


Most of these laws and conventions also regulate engaging with mercenaries. Indeed, except for Additional Protocol I, they typically also criminalize recruiting, financing and training mercenaries.

Article 2 of the ICRUFTM states that “[a]ny person who recruits, uses, finances or trains mercenaries” is in violation of the convention.

While the OAU CEM criminalizes recruiting, financing, or training mercenaries, it does so only within the context of undermining the function of a state. Article 1.2 states that mercenarism is committed only when recruiting, financing, or training is done with “the aim of opposing by armed violence a process of self-determination stability or the territorial integrity of another State.” Moreover, Article 1.2 also defines recruiting, financing, and training much more expansively than the ICRUFTM does, stating that, while attempting to oppose a process of self-determination and territorial integrity, an individual, group, or state:


a) Shelters, organises, finances, assists, equips, trains, promotes, supports or in any manner employs bands of mercenaries.

b) Enlists, enrols or tries to enrol in the said bands.

c) Allows the activities mentioned in paragraph (a) to be carried out in any territory under its jurisdiction or in any place under its control or affords facilities for transit, transport or other operations of the above-mentioned forces.

Article 447 of the Ukrainian criminal code, like the OAU CEM, criminalizes the recruiting, financing, material support, or training of mercenaries if such actions are aimed at “violently changing, or overthrowing the constitutional order, seizing state power, impeding activities of the state authorities, or violating territorial integrity.” Violations of this law are punished with imprisonment from five to 10 years. Azerbaijan, meanwhile, follows the ICRUFTM definition regarding engaging with mercenaries but also criminalizes “other material maintenance of mercenaries” under Article 114.1 of the Azerbaijan criminal code. Offenders are to be punished with imprisonment of four to eight years. Finally, Mozambique follows the OAU CEM’s more expansive definition of engaging with mercenaries. Violators of the Mozambique law include “all those who voluntarily recruit, organize, finance, supply, equip, train, and transport individuals … as well as those who enlist in these forces.” This crime is punished with imprisonment of 16 to 20 years.

Other Laws

Of course, in addition to laws and conventions regulating the use of mercenaries, Wagner Group members could also be subject to any national laws such as those that punish killing, torture and terrorism if employees committed these actions. This is not entirely hypothetical: In 2017, according to Novaya Gazeta [warning: graphic images], Wagner employees allegedly beat Muhammad “Hamdi Bouta” Taha Ismail al-Abdullah to death by hitting him repeatedly with a sledgehammer and then decapitating him. Bouta was a Syrian national who was forcefully conscripted by the Syrian government in March 2017, deserted the army while he was in Homs, and was killed by Wagner Group members at the Shaer gas field, which had recently been liberated from the Islamic State. Bouta’s brother filed a complaint based on Article 12 of Russia’s criminal code on March 11, which criminalizes actions by Russian citizens that work against the “interests protected by the Code” and against servicemen of Russian military units that commit crimes abroad that violate the Russian criminal code. In addition, reports by Human Rights Watch and Voice of America News indicate that landmines left by Wagner employees in residential neighborhoods of Tripoli, Libya, have killed 52 people since 2020.

If Wagner Group employees were to commit serious violations of international humanitarian law on the territory of any states parties to the Rome Statute or against the citizens of any states parties, the employees responsible for such an act could be prosecuted by the International Criminal Court for violating Article 8 of the Rome Statute, which punishes grave breaches of the Geneva Conventions. Out of all the countries where Wagner has operated, however, only the Central African Republic and Madagascar have ratified the Rome Statute. Ukraine has also accepted the jurisdiction of the Rome Statute on its territory from 2014 onward.

Applying the Law

Despite the many laws codified to regulate mercenaries, Wagner’s operations seem to face few meaningful legal constraints. Prosecutions of mercenaries by state authorities are rarely attempted or carried out.

Might Wagner face any legal consequences for its actions? It’s not clear whether countries that have ratified conventions like the ICRUFTM could prosecute Wagner Group members if they have not made corresponding national laws, due to the conventions’ structure. For that reason, the greatest legal constraints on Wagner’s activities may be in three countries where the Wagner Group has operated that have made national law regarding mercenaries: Ukraine, Mozambique and Azerbaijan. Yet it’s unlikely that any of these three states could succeed in prosecuting Wagner Group members under their national laws.

Ukraine is the country that has come the closest to prosecuting the Wagner Group using its mercenary law. In August 2020, the Ukrainian prosecutor general requested that Belarus extradite 28 alleged mercenaries, some of whom were Wagner employees, for their activities. The Ukrainian prosecutor general alleges that this group participated in the armed conflict in eastern Ukraine and sought to prosecute them under the country’s terrorism law, Article 258-3 of the Ukrainian criminal code. But under Article 447 of Ukraine’s criminal law, Wagner members would not be considered or prosecuted as mercenaries based on Ukraine’s five-factor test. For someone to be considered a mercenary, the test requires that someone:

Be recruited locally or abroad to take part in armed conflict, military or violent actions aimed at forcible change or overthrow of the constitutional order, seizure of state power, or obstruction of the activity of state authorities on the territory of Ukraine or the territory of other states or violation of territorial integrity.
Participate for the purpose of obtaining any personal gain.
Not be a citizen (subject) of a party to the conflict and not be a person who permanently legally resides in the territory controlled by a party to the conflict.
Not be a member of the armed forces of the state on the territory of which such actions are carried out.

Not be sent by a state that is not a party to the conflict to perform official duties as a member of its armed forces.


Arguably, Wagner Group members fulfill factors 1, 2, and 4, given that Wagner employees by assisting rebels in Eastern Ukraine have obstructed the activity of Ukrainian state authorities, received compensation for their work, and are not members of the Ukrainian armed forces.

But factors 3 and 5 would likely not be fulfilled, as Russia would most likely be considered a party to the conflict in Ukraine. Ukraine’s position has been that Russia is in fact a party to the conflict and the International Criminal Court has stated that there exists an armed conflict between Russia and Ukraine. By all accounts it appears that Wagner’s forces in Eastern Ukraine were Russian citizens. And Wagner employees would also likely not fulfill the fifth factor, since, according to a Center for Strategic & International Studies report, Russia is a party to the conflict and Utkin “was subordinated both to the GRU [Russia’s military intelligence agency] and to the Russian military command.” As a result, given that Russia is a party to the conflict and Russian citizens participated, Wagner employees in Ukraine do not fall under Ukraine’s definition of mercenaries.

Mozambique likewise could not use its national law regulating mercenaries to target the Wagner Group for its activities in Mozambique. As described above, the first factor of the Mozambican mercenarism law is outwardly focused: It requires that a mercenary attempt to overthrow a legitimately constituted foreign government by armed violence and therefore does not apply to any Wagner actions in Mozambique. In theory, Mozambique, as well as Azerbaijan and Ukraine, could prosecute the Wagner Group for their mercenary activities in other countries like Libya. However, neither Mozambique nor any other state has currently shown any interest in doing so. Moreover, given that Wagner employees went to Mozambique to help the government fight against Islamic State-linked militants in the country’s Cabo Delgado province, it does not seem likely that the government would have any interest in prosecuting the group.

While Azerbaijan is currently attempting to prosecute Armenian mercenaries who fought against Azeri troops in Nagorno-Karabakh, the country has not taken steps to prosecute Wagner Group members who also allegedly participated in the conflict—and if prosecutors tried, it seems unlikely they would succeed. Azerbaijan’s four-factors test requires mercenaries to be (a) working with a view of material compensation, (b) not citizens of Azerbaijan or living constantly on its territory, (c) participating in a confrontation or military operations, and (d) not directed for execution of official duties (Azerbaijani criminal code, Article 114). The main question is whether any Wagner Group employees in the country were executing official duties: If Wagner members were receiving direction from either the government of Armenia or the independent government of Nagorno-Karabakh, then they would not be considered mercenaries. However, if the Wagner employees were instead receiving most of their direction from the Russian government, which was not a party to the conflict, then these employees would be considered mercenaries and could be prosecuted for mercenarism under Azerbaijani law.

Even if they could be considered mercenaries, however, it is unlikely that Azerbaijan would attempt to prosecute such individuals. Given Russia’s historic role as the chief negotiator between Armenia and Azerbaijan and its capacity to tip the conflict in a certain direction if it were so inclined, Azerbaijan would be unlikely to pursue these cases.

As for the complaint filed by Hamdi Bouta’s brother within Russia under Article 12 of the Russian criminal code, the odds of success appear low. Given that Novaya Gazeta’s complaint for the same case was ignored in 2019, unless the complaint was changed drastically, it is unclear why the Russian Investigative Committee would change its mind.

Could a more expansive legal regime change how companies like the Wagner Group operate? Many legal scholars argue that laws regulating mercenaries are too narrowly written, suggesting that broader statutes could increase prosecutions for such activities. In this view, the definitions of mercenaries used by various laws and conventions are overly narrow, which allows most mercenaries to avoid being classified as such. However, scholars have also noted that mercenaries operate in weak states, which makes enforcement and prosecutions by host governments difficult.

Moreover, even if countries implement more expansive prohibitions against PMSCs like Wagner, it could be argued that there is a risk that these kinds of regulations will—instead of discouraging companies like Wagner—discourage PMSCs that legitimately try to follow the rule of law when providing security services. Jose Gomez del Prado has argued that members of the U.N. Western Group have rejected proposed resolutions by Cuba to regulate PMSCs in order to protect legitimate business activities of these companies. Indeed, the United States and the United Kingdom believe that there are a number of PMSCs that provide important security services and that, while there are problems, the industry is best regulated through self-enforced industry standards like the Montreux Document.

At the same time, a more expansive legal regime could create more stability in countries affected by conflict. The U.N. Working Group on the Use of Mercenaries has been a regular advocate for greater regulation of the PMSC industry and made a draft PMSC convention that was tabled in 2009. Saeed Mokbil, the chairperson-rapporteur for the working group, has argued that the international and domestic legal regulation of PMSCS could promote the rule of law. He has argued that through regulations regarding oversight, registration, licensing, and vetting, there could be a lower risk of destabilization and human rights violations in countries using PMSCs.

In the meantime, it seems clear that the Wagner Group will continue to operate. Companies like Wagner are able to quickly deploy soldiers in combat upon receiving payment and disappear overnight when necessary. Such companies are increasingly in demand—and they are reshaping how conflicts operate around the globe,




By promoting instability in southeastern Ukraine and becoming involved in the Syrian civil war, the Kremlin has shown growing resolve to militarily challenge the United States both within and beyond Russia’s self-proclaimed zone of “privileged interests.” Russian participation in these conflicts has also highlighted a new-old tool to fulfill Moscow’s geopolitical ambitions: the so-called Private Military Companies (PMC), irregular and de jure illegal private armies that directly or indirectly operate in the service of the Kremlin. PMCs have a deep historical legacy of helping Russia pursue state interests, and the sophistication and scope of Moscow’s use of this instrument continues to grow and evolve. Russian readiness to employ PMCs rests on “plausible deniability,” the commercialization of war, and the principle of asymmetricity. These three components have made PMCs an important, cost-effective means for Russia to act as the de facto key player in “gray zones”—both incidental and created by Moscow—and regional conflicts along its periphery as well as in places as far off as Central Africa and beyond.

Though a series of forthcoming reports, this project seeks to explore the issue of Russian PMCs through the lens of continuity and tradition. The main project investigator, Dr. Sergey Sukhankin, a Research Fellow at The Jamestown Foundation, will employ a broad range of primary- and indigenous secondary-source data to explain how Russia employs these irregular formations and what the West should do about it.

Please find the latest reports in this series below: 

War by Other Means - Jamestown


 

An Alarming Twist in Belarus’s Political Crisis

Publication: Eurasia Daily Monitor Volume: 18 Issue: 62

The socio-political conflict in Belarus has the potential to grow even more acute, even though street rallies have all but disappeared and the authorities have, for several months now, pursued a harsh counter-offensive. Those arrests and firings continue. Thus, in Grodno, Andrzej Pisalnik, the secretary of the unrecognized Union of Poles, was arrested together with his wife—in addition to earlier apprehensions of this entity’s activists (see EDM, April 7). In Minsk, Yelena Baranova, a pediatric cardiologist with 25 years of experience, was fired from both a state-run healthcare center and a private clinic for her Facebook posts, in which she expressed her loathing of riot police who mistreated her son (Euroradio, April 14).

An avalanche of media reactions followed the arrest of Alexander Feduta, a member of President Alyaksandr Lukashenka’s 1994 victorious electoral campaign and his first press secretary, but who switched to the opposition as early as 1995. In 2010–2011, Feduta, then a member of Vladimir Neklyaev’s 2020 electoral campaign, spent 3.5 months in a Belarusian KGB detention center and, subsequently, received a conditional two-year sentence. Feduta is a prolific journalist and literary critic with a doctorate from Jagiellonian University, in Kraków, Poland (Uj.edu.pl, 2017). He suffers from various health maladies and has trouble walking.

The crucial aspect of Feduta’s latest arrest, on April 12, is that it took place in Moscow, where he had arrived from Poland. That day, his wife, Marina Shibko, a publisher, who had maintained constant contact with Feduta from Minsk, announced that his phone was no longer responding (Regnum, April 12). She flew to Moscow on April 13 and filed a search request with district police headquarters, but within hours Feduta was “found” in the same detention center in Minsk where he served time in 2010–2011. Likewise, Yury Zenkovich, an attorney and a dual citizen of Belarus and the United States, was also arrested in the Russian capital (Interfax, April 14). And law enforcement detained Grigory Kostusev, the chairperson of the Belarusian Popular Front opposition party, in his native town of Shklov, Mogilev Oblast, at around the same time (Tut.by, April 14).

What happened next clarified the situation for those on one side of the political barricade, while confusing the issue for those on the other. Namely, on April 17, while taking a break from planting trees in his home village of Alexandria, Mogilev Oblast, President Lukashenka disclosed to a circle of trusted journalists that US intelligence (“either the FBI or CIA,” as he put it) was staging a coup, in which he and his children would be killed (YouTube, April 17). And allegedly it was in conjunction with this coup, thwarted jointly by Belarusian and Russian counterintelligence, that Feduta, Zenkovich and Kostusev were apprehended. According to Lukashenka, he solicited help from his Russian counterpart, Vladimir Putin, who raised the issue in his recent phone conversation with US President Joseph Biden but did not receive any intelligible explanation. Dmitry Peskov, Putin’s press secretary, subsequently confirmed that his boss, indeed, touched on this issue in an exchange with Biden (Belta, April 19). Lukashenka emphasized he could not fathom the purported US actions; after all, a decision to eliminate a foreign leader can only be taken at the top. Finally, the Belarusian head of state acknowledged that the thwarted coup was the last straw and that he made some crucial decisions, which he would soon formalize in a decree.

Shortly thereafter, on April 17, Belarusian television aired some supposedly revealing footage showing a meeting between Feduta and Zenkovich, on the one hand, and three “Belarusian army generals,” on the other, in a restaurant on Moscow’s Garden Ring (YouTube, April 17). The gathered group allegedly discussed a detailed plan of the anti-Lukashenka coup during that meeting, which would include, among other operations, the elimination of at least 30 top-ranking Belarusians, a blockade of Minsk, and the seizure of some public utilities. Subsequently, the televised exposé presented captured fragments from a Zoom conference in which, in addition to the aforementioned characters, four others participated, including Dmitry Shchigelsky, a former Belarusian psychiatrist, now based in New York City. Shchigelsky is famous for, in the mid-1990s, “diagnosing” Lukashenka from afar with so-called mosaic psychopathy—a condition not listed in any international registers of psychiatric conditions. At one point, Shchigelsky acknowledged online that he is engaged in a business selling healthcare products. One other notable participant of the purported intercepted virtual conference was Alexander Perepechko, born in Minsk but currently residing in Seattle, Washington; he is a professional geographer who publishes his English-language texts on his own site, Geostrategy.info, and in Russian on Belorusskie Novosti (Naviny, November 5, 2020). In an interview with Radio Liberty’s Belarusian Service, Perepechko claimed that during such Zoom conferences, potential coup plans were, indeed, discussed but only as possible scenarios—these talks never approached anything close to implementation (Svaboda.org, April 18).

Following the disclosures from the Belarusian authorities, the Russian Federal Security Service (FSB) issued a statement: “Together with Belarus’s KGB, the FSB conducted a special operation that thwarted the illegal activities of Zenkovich […] and Feduta […] who were planning to carry out a military coup in Belarus according to a worked-out scenario of ‘color revolutions’ with the involvement of local and Ukrainian nationalists, as well as the physical elimination of President A. Lukashenko [sic]” (Fsb.ru, April 17).

Equally notably, less than a week earlier, Lukashenka paid a visit to Azerbaijan, where he had a five-hour-long talk with President Ilham Aliyev (Belta, April 13). Upon his return to Minsk, Lukashenka received Russian Prime Minister Mikhail Mishustin, reportedly to discuss the harmonization of the two countries’ tax systems. And he is now bracing for yet another meeting with Putin, on April 22, in Moscow (Tut.by, April 16). Tighter integration with Russia is expected to be on the agenda.

The political commentator Artyom Shraibman shared the view that repressions in Belarus will last until the authorities feel a sense of security—which, apparently, they have yet to. He also acknowledged that “a society divided so starkly is very difficult to sew together” (Svaboda.org, April 15). Along these lines, one possible interpretation of the goings-on is that anxiety and insecurity at the helm of power in Belarus have reached an apogee. While Western sanctions have not yet gained momentum, Russia and Belarus are already tightening relations across the board. The recent arrests in Moscow certainly fall in line with this interpretation.

Australia's oldest Aboriginal man, Ngarla elder Stephen Stewart, has lived a 'wild', remarkable life
Karajarri Nyangumarta man Stephen Stewart at the Yandeyarra Community.
(ABC Pilbara: James Liveris)

Karajarri Nyangumarta man Stephen Stewart has defied all the odds to keep his culture alive for more than a century.

Warning: Readers are advised that this article contains the name of an Indigenous person who has died.

The life expectancy for Indigenous men is 71.6 years of age, but Mr Stewart may be as old as 109.

That makes him the oldest Aboriginal man still alive in West Australia's Pilbara region, if not the entire country.

"I am the last one," Mr Stewart said.

"All my elders are finished."

To this day the Ngarla elder spends four months of the year on the road as a senior lore-man.

"It's a big job, very hard too," Mr Stewart said.

"But we have to follow our lore — lore makes you strong and is why I am still alive."
Before records began

For many Indigenous Australians born around the turn of the 20th century, obtaining a birth certificate was not possible.

The only historical evidence of Mr Stewart's age is an engraving on an old windmill at Wallal Downs Station, about 300 kilometres south of Broome.

The rusted iron is marked "Stephen Stewart, 1918", making Mr Stewart at least 103.

But Mr Stewart said he remembered engraving his name as a youngster when he began droving cattle on the Canning Stock Route, possibly when he was about six.

"We were droving cattle to Meekatharra," he said.

"It was wild country back then … [we were] proper bushmen.

"There was only one horse in the lead, ridden by a white man, then the rest of us were walking, driving a big mob of cattle from behind … and I got nothing for it."

Like most Indigenous people born before 1970, Mr Stewart found himself in an era when Aboriginal people in WA were forced to work on pastoral stations that used stolen wages, child labour, and in some cases, slavery.
The MV Koolinda docked in low tide at Broome in March 1931.
(Supplied: State Library Of Western Australia)


Brushing off the kiss of death


Mr Stewart was born on Pardoo Station and worked there from a young age, but the decades of arduous toil that were to come almost didn't happen when he was almost sent to Rottnest Island as a child.

The island, which was used as a jail until 1904 and a forced labour camp until 1931, claimed more than 370 Aboriginal lives.

Mr Stewart said he was walking to school for his first day of formal education when he was confronted by the authorities.

"Policeman picked me up," Mr Stewart said.


"I wanted to go to school — they said they would take me."

The drive took longer than expected and Mr Stewart ended up in a holding room at Port Hedland.

Mr Stewart did not know that the plan was to put him aboard the MV Koolinda, an operational steamer bound for Rottnest Island.

Word of mouth travelled back to Mr Stewart's boss, Frank Thompson, who owned Pardoo Station at the time.

Pardoo Station homestead in 1935.(Supplied: State Library Of Western Australia)

In utter shock, the renowned pastoralist decided to take Mr Stewart's destiny into his hands.

"Frank Thompson had heard the news I was on my way to school, where I was picked up near Wallal, and was taken to Port Hedland," Mr Stewart said.


"Frank and two of my uncles rode by horse to come and pick me up."

The MV Koolinda had been docked for two weeks and was scheduled to depart within three days when Mr Thompson arrived.

Mr Thompson adopted Mr Stewart into his family on the spot, ostensibly saving his life.
Station life

It was then that Mr Stewart began to cement his reputation as a stockman and leader at Pardoo Station.

But station life in the Pilbara was not without its challenges.

Unearthing the forgotten legacy of Aboriginal stockwomen

After so many men were killed in the frontier wars, a burgeoning Australian pastoral industry turned to Aboriginal stockwomen.Read more


"There was never any money back then — none of the blackfellas ever got paid," Mr Stewart said.


"I started working when I was a kid, it was as soon as I lost my father.

"I never thought about it back then, you just keep going, keep working, for free."

Mr Stewart said he never saw the money owed to him.

"My first job was at Pardoo, at the big store — they gave me one spanner to tighten all the bolts for the carpenters," he said.

"Then I got promoted to the big jobs.

"I did the homestead — it's still there today.


"Then I got the broom. I would sweep the mess and the rooms — I don't get paid for that."
Becoming 'Number Two'

Long hours in 40-degree heat for very little reward was the norm for Aboriginal workers for decades, but that was set to change.

On May 1, 1946, 800 workers, including Mr Stewart, walked off pastoral stations across the north-west region and the famous Pilbara Strike began.

The campaign for fair wages and working conditions paved the way for Indigenous rights in Australia.

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When West Australian sheep station workers went on strike for fair wages and decent conditions, they wrote one of the most important chapters in Australia's history.Read more


Mr Stewart said it was simply a case of enough being enough.

"We wanted the right to live a normal life," he said.

"We did big jobs, cattle mustering, everything, and we wanted more money.


"If it was not for the strike, we would not be here today."

After the strike, Mr Stewart joined his best friend, the late Peter Coppin, in running Yandeyarra Station.

The idolised figures were nicknamed Number One and Number Two.

In 2021, Number Two still sticks for Mr Stewart, with most of the Pilbara's residents familiar with the name.
A phenomenal horseman

Mr Stewart said it was inevitable that he developed a passion for life in the saddle.

"I was a horseman all throughout my life," he said.


"I eventually became a jockey."

Race meets in the Pilbara were among the few moments in the year when station work stopped.

Aboriginal families relished those times because they could reconnect at the racecourses.

But for Mr Stewart it was a platform to showcase his skills.

Crowds gathering at Wittenoom Race Course in 1970.(Supplied: State Library Of Western Australia)

"I would race 24 blokes, all white jockeys," he said.

"My horse was a hack, a mega colt for cattle mustering.

"He was my horse — I trained him when nobody could ride him.

"There was nothing wrong with him.


"I knew I was going to win on that horse."

Mr Stewart went on to win the Marble Bar Races and the Wittenoom Cup.

Yandeyarra is an Aboriginal community with a population of about 400.
(ABC Pilbara: Susan Standen)


Spirit must continue


Among all the trials and tribulations Mr Stewart faced, nothing ever got in the way of preserving Aboriginal lore.

Once a year he was given one week off to practice lore, which involved walking 270km to a sacred ceremonial ground.

Mr Stewart said lore was integral to his culture.


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"It would take us three days to walk there, [there was a] ceremony for one day, then walk back to the station in the last three days," he said.

"The station would give us half a bag of flour to survive.


"We take boomerang and spear instead, no blanket – that was it."

The ceremonial ground Mr Stewart and others visited for many years no longer exists.

It is now a mine site.

Mr Stewart said the chance of Aboriginal culture being forgotten forever increased with the destruction of every sacred site.

"Everything at Wodgina makes us who we are, it gives us our identity," he said.


"But white people with dynamite destroyed the place.

"It's too late to save now.

"Unfortunately, it still happens today, and the biggest risk is the young fellas and the culture.

"They will learn nothing the more these sites are destroyed."
On the road

For the last 50 years Mr Stewart has called Yandeyarra Mugarinya Community home.

It is not often you will find him there, however, because he spends four months a year teaching the younger generation lore.

Mr Stewart travels more than 3,000km from Bellary Springs to Warralong, Roebourne, Bidyadanga and Wiluna, year in, year out.

Mr Stewart said he had no plan to slow down.

"I get a bit lonely," he said.

"You feel a bit different when you lose all your mates.


"You just have to keep busy and keep yourself happy."

A treasured dad and grandfather

Mr Stewart's daughter Margaret says her father is a constant source of inspiration.
ABC Pilbara: James Liveris

It is no secret that Mr Stewart has left an indelible mark on many people, and none more so than his daughter, Margaret, who said she intended to follow in his footsteps.

"I am really proud of him," she said.

"I am glad that I've got him still today, and to see him this strong, it just motivates me every day to be just like him.

"There is not a single moment of the past that I could pick and choose, he has been by our side every day — every day.

"Me and my kids will treasure that."
Posted 1dday ago, updated 1dday ago

Sea snake feared locally extinct rediscovered in 'twilight zone' on Ashmore Reef

ABC Science /
By environment reporter Nick Kilvert
4/19/2021
The short-nosed sea snake used to be abundant on Ashmore Reef
(Supplied: Schmidt Ocean Institute/Conor Ashleigh)

A species of extremely rare, endemic sea snake not seen on Western Australia's Ashmore Reef in 23 years has been rediscovered living in the "twilight zone
".

Key points:

17 species of sea snake disappeared from the shallow reef in the '90s and 2000s

This is the 3rd species to have been rediscovered living at depth

Genetic tests are needed to determine if it's a unique species

The critically endangered short-nosed sea snake (Aipysurus apraefrontalis) is known from a couple of sites on the north coast of Western Australia, and was once abundant in the shallows of Ashmore Reef before it seemingly disappeared in 1998.

But scientists on board a research vessel equipped with "advanced robotic technologies" found the snake in 67 metres of water last week, according to sea snake researcher Blanche D'Anastasi from the Australian Institute of Marine Science (AIMS).

"The robot was looking at a dead shell and [the researchers] were trying to pick it up and it had a sea snake sitting next to it," Ms D'Anastasi said.

"They asked to zoom in on it and they [both] realised straight away it was a short-nosed sea snake.

"They contacted me soon after and were like, 'is this what we think it is?'"
Ashmore Reef sits about 320 kilometres off Australia's north-west coast.
(Supplied: Geoscience Australia)

Ashmore Reef, which sits about 320 kilometres off the north-west coast of Australia, was once home to one of the most abundant assemblages of sea snakes on the planet, but began mysteriously disappearing.

"They've been gradually declining since the '70s, but things started really going awry in 2002," Ms D'Anastasi said.

"You used to find about 50 snakes per day if you were walking the reef site.

"By 2002 it was down to 20 snakes per day, by 2010 it was down to 10, and then in 2012 there were no snakes left in the shallows."

By 2012, 17 species had vanished from the reef, according to Ms D'Anastasi.

The short-nosed sea snake is now the third of those 17 "disappeared" sea snakes to have been rediscovered by scientists on board the Schmidt Ocean Institute's Research Vessel Falkor.

The find offers a chance for recovery and protection of the species, according to Nerida Wilson from the Western Australian Museum, who was on board the vessel when they made the find.

"This discovery shows that we have so much more to learn about the twilight zone, and we are hopeful to find more of Ashmore's lost sea snake species," Dr Wilson said in a statement.

The twilight zone, also called the mesophotic zone, refers to ocean depths between about 30m and 150m where some sunlight still penetrates.
Discovery could be a separate species


The researchers spotted the snake curled up near a dead shell.
(Supplied: Schmidt Ocean Institute/Conor Ashleigh)

The short-nosed sea snake is a venomous species that grows to just over a metre in length. It is usually a brownish-purple colour with light banding across its body.

It's in the Elapidae family — a group of snakes characterised by their short, hollow, fixed fangs — which includes land species like the taipan, death adder and cobra.

The rediscovery of the snakes living at depth on Ashmore Reef has thrown up more questions than answers, according to reptile ecologist Kate Sanders from the University of Adelaide.

The species was presumed extinct after it disappeared from Ashmore, but were found living in a few isolated coastal habitats by Dr Sanders' team in 2016.

"Cable Beach in Broome, we've had a single specimen from there, and scattered distributions from the Exmouth Gulf," she said.

The sea snake hadn't been seen on the Ashmore Reef in 23 year.
(Supplied: Schmidt Ocean Institute/Conor Ashleigh)s

But the coastal specimens are morphologically different to the Ashmore snakes, with a smaller head that appears suited to foraging for eels in shallow sandy and seagrass habitats, Dr Sanders said.

Genetic testing could reveal them to be separate species.

"The coastal and the Ashmore populations have these genetic and morphological and ecological differences," Dr Sanders said.

"So, depending on what you consider a species to be, they could easily be considered a separate species."

What is unclear from the photos of this new snake spotted at Ashmore Reef is whether it's a coastal specimen that has migrated out to the reef recently, or if it shows that the Ashmore population has persisted this whole time at depth.

The solution will be to catch and take genetic samples from a specimen at Ashmore, and compare it to a coastal specimen.

If it turns out to be a coastal specimen, this will provide useful information in itself.

Part of the reason the short-nosed sea snake was presumed extinct when it disappeared from Ashmore Reef was because it was thought to have an extremely limited range — as little as a few kilometres.

"Could they have re-colonised from the coast? That's a really important question,"
 Dr Sanders said.

"If it's the coastal population that's recolonised, that would suggest we've lost that historical diversity that used to be present on Ashmore."

MASSIVE ATTACK


Massive Attack are an English trip hop group formed in 1988 in Bristol, consisting of Robert "3D" Del Naja, Grant "Daddy G" Marshall and formerly Andy "Mushroom" Vowles ("Mush"). Their debut album Blue Lines was released in 1991, with the single "Unfinished Sympathy" reaching the charts and later being voted the 63rd greatest song of all time in a poll by NME. 1998's Mezzanine, containing "Teardrop", and 2003's 100th Window charted in the UK at number one. Both Blue Lines and Mezzanine feature in Rolling Stone's list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

The group has won numerous music awards throughout their career, including a Brit Award—winning Best British Dance Act, two MTV Europe Music Awards, and two Q Awards. They have released five studio albums that have sold over 11 million copies worldwide.

DJs Daddy G and Andrew Vowles and graffiti artist-turned-rapper Robert Del Naja met as members of partying collective The Wild Bunch. One of the first homegrown soundsystems in the UK, The Wild Bunch became dominant on the Bristol club scene in the mid-1980s.

Massive Attack started as a spin-off production trio in 1988, with the independently released song, "Any Love", sung by falsetto-voiced singer-songwriter Carlton McCarthy, and then, with considerable backing from Neneh Cherry, they signed to Circa Records in 1990 – committing to deliver six studio albums and a "best of" compilation. Circa became a subsidiary of, and was later subsumed into, Virgin Records, which in turn was acquired by EMI. Blue Lines (1991), was co-produced by Jonny Dollar and Cameron McVey, who also became their first manager. Geoff Barrow, who went on to form Portishead, was an intern and trainee tape operator at Bristol's Coach House studio when the album was recorded. McVey (credited at the time as 'Booga Bear') and his wife, Neneh Cherry, provided crucial financial support and in-kind assistance to the early careers of Massive Attack, Portishead and Tricky during this period, even paying regular wages to them through their Cherry Bear Organisation. Massive Attack used guest vocalists, interspersed with Del Naja and Marshall's (initially Tricky's) own sprechgesang stylings, on top of what became regarded as an essentially British creative sampling production; a trademark sound that fused down-tempo hip hop, soul, reggae and other eclectic references, musical and lyrical.

In the nineties, the trio became known for often not being able to easily get along with one another and working increasingly separately. Andy Vowles (Mushroom), who had once thought of himself as the trio's musical director, acrimoniously left Massive Attack in late 1999, after an ultimatum from the other two members to end the group immediately if he did not. Despite having taken Del Naja's side in the effective firing of Vowles and then participating in a show-of-unity webcast as a duo the following year, Grant Marshall (G) had also effectively left by 2001 in that he abandoned the studio altogether. Marshall returned to a studio role in 2005, having joined the touring line-up in 2003 and 2004.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCLqMjQtlnOkknN-FvrtQ0WQ