Monitoring the activities of émigré and diaspora groups that could pose a threat to the regime’s interests has long been an intelligence target for the Kremlin. It pays particular attention to those who previously occupied positions of power or influence inside Russia. Even if they are not formally defectors, it views them with great suspicion and monitors them aggressively. But ordinary émigrés too may be eavesdropped and recruited, either willingly or not. Some may end up serving just the narrow purposes of Russia’s intelligence services. Someone who works in the billing department of a mobile phone company, in a tax office, in a bank as Ms Chapman did in Britain, or in a credit-rating agency can help expose a fake identity being used by a foreigner on a visit to Russia, or assist in concocting one for Russian spies needing to work abroad. During the Cold War, for example, the KGB was able to recruit an agent in the London regional office of the motor-licensing authority. This enabled them to find out which cars were used by the spycatchers of MI5.
The same insights are useful today. Does the Western businessman visiting Russia have a convincing credit history? Does his mobile phone number check out? What calls has he made? Does he have any frequent-flier cards? If so, what pattern of activity do they show? Does he pay taxes? If so, from which home address and on which sources of income? Someone with access to an immigration computer can check if records show any sign of previous globetrotting for the passport that this supposed international businessman presented at his hotel.
Still more tempting targets are those in a position to obtain secrets or sensitive information. Even if they do not have the necessary access, they may know someone who has. In a lawless country such as Russia, it is easy to find ways of influencing them, either directly or through those that they care about. As a Canadian official put it after a spy scandal there: ‘They’re pretty good at applying pressure, by appealing to their patriotism… or by reminding them that Mother is still back home.’1 Such robust persuasion is easiest when émigrés actually visit Russia. The FSB can plant drugs or pornography, fake an allegation of rape, or concoct some other unpleasant difficulty, either against the victim directly, or against a relative or friend. The accused protests his innocence to grim-faced police who tell him to expect a lengthy stay in custody while the case is fully investigated. Without proper legal representation, facing scandal at home and possibly losing his job, the detainee is easy prey when an anonymous visitor in civilian clothes appears, explaining that the ‘misunderstandings’ will clear up in return for a little help. This cooperation can range from straightforwardly betraying secrets to more subtle tasks such as reporting on colleagues’ personal weaknesses, or simply providing anodyne information in order to test the source for later use.
In some cases, the victim hurries home and reports the entire affair to his own country’s counter-intelligence service (one such agency is the source of the above outline of the FSB’s modus operandi). If that happens, the Western side may try to use the person to feed disinformation to the FSB, or to obtain more information about Russia’s wish list. Such instances are rare. Western spycatchers worry about how often such FSB approaches have been successful and unreported, and what may have happened as a result. The advantage of this kind of operation for the FSB is that its methods and officers are largely preserved: if the ‘pitch’ is unsuccessful and the source is never seen again, little is lost. If it works, the agent running can happen mainly or wholly inside Russia: after all, the target has completely convincing family reasons for visiting. Each time he visits, the screw can tighten a little. That is a lot easier than trying to recruit people in Berlin, London, New York or Paris under the noses of NATO counter-intelligence services.
A good example of what appears to be the use of the diaspora for intelligence purposes is the story of Axis Information and Analysis (AIA). This outfit described itself as an ‘information agency that unites professionals having years of experience in collecting and analysing information about Asia and Eastern Europe’. It claimed to be focused upon ‘states that constitute a threat to regional and international security, as well as upon areas of ethnic and religious conflict’. Its main mission was to produce rather good information about defence, security and intelligence issues. A typical day’s headlines, on 25 February 2009, included items such as ‘Former Czech chief-of-staff works in company with person suspected of ties with Soviet intelligence’; ‘Estonian investigators pass opinion why did Herman Simm betray his native country’; ‘Attempt of bombing of synagogue in Ukraine not considered act of terrorism’ and ‘Russia has at least 500 secret service agents in Vienna 20 years after Cold War’.
The site did not require payment and had no advertising. My initial assumption was therefore that it was part of an information-warfare effort, aimed at planting skewed stories or disinformation in a seemingly credible wider stream of news. But intense scrutiny of the AIA output, even on the subjects I knew best, revealed no consistent pattern that supported this theory. The tone was pleasantly astringent towards the Russian services and their rivals alike. I took discreet soundings from intelligence professionals in the region. They turned out to be fans of AIA, with the same curiosity about its origins and purpose. The site was registered via an American hosting company, with all further details privacy-protected. I tried writing to the supposed editor, Michel Elbaz, and got an evasive reply in return. Eventually I gave up worrying and simply used the site as a handy compendium of news and analysis, assuming that it must have some kind of business model that I was too stupid to grasp. Had I looked a bit harder, I might have found some clues suggesting the opposite.