Danse macabre

If you ever wonder how thoroughly Western countries are infiltrated by Russian agents (of influence or otherwise), look no further than Austria.

Last week, Karin Kneissl, the country’s Foreign Minister between 2017 and 2019, emigrated from her native land, citing “death threats”.

To this extremely casual observer of Austrian affairs, it was fear for her freedom, not her life, that must have driven her out. For Kneissl’s links with Russia were intimate enough to be described as borderline treasonous.

Putin has been putting his KGB training to good use by systematically infiltrating European politics and recruiting European politicians. Since Germany is the biggest country on that targeted continent, it’s mostly German Putinistas who make the news.

If fact, the process of KGB seduction is called ‘Schroederization’, in honour of Gerhardt Schroeder, the former Chancellor who, when still in office, allowed the construction of the Nord Stream 2 pipeline and in general promoted Russian interests wherever he could. After he lost his post, Schroeder made millions as chairman of the Russian oil giant Rosneft.

His successor Angela Merkel was nicknamed ‘Putin’s best woman’, and she did all she could to merit that soubriquet. I’m sure that only Russia’s current attack on the Ukraine has prevented Frau Merkel from collecting her reward of a corporate post matching Schroeder’s.

That Ostpolitik policy of craven appeasement was covered with the fig leaf of a lame excuse called Wandel durch Handel, change through trade. The assumption peddled to the credulous public was that Putin will change his ways under the avalanche of euros pouring into his coffers.

However, predictably, for all the Handel going on, the only Wandel Putin was showing was for the worse. Expecting a KGB regime to act differently was a symptom of, kindly speaking, naivety, and I’d rather not ponder other possibilities.   

For all that, Germany wasn’t the most infiltrated country in Europe. In fact, compared to Austria, Germany comes across as practically a staunch bulwark of anti-Putin resistance. Like their German colleagues, Austrian politicians displayed an enviable cross-party consensus in falling over themselves to kiss the nether regions of Putin’s anatomy.

The Social Democrats led the way, proffering their protruded lips while holding out their hands for the stream of Russian gold. Former Chancellor Alfred Gusenbauer (2007-8) ended up on the board of the Dialogue of Civilisations Institute, a Kremlin front led by the KGB general Vladimir Yakunin.

Another former SD Chancellor, Christian Kern, served on the supervisory board of Russian Railways. He campaigned against US sanctions aimed at stopping Nord Stream 2.

As a manifestation of that cross-party consensus, Hans Joerg Schelling, former Conservative Finance Minister, is under contract to Nord Stream 2. And Christian Democrat Wolfgang Schüssel, another former Chancellor, sat on the board of Lukoil, Rosneft’s competitor.

Then the turn came of the Freedom Party, Austria’s answer to France’s National Rally. That party was in the ruling coalition until 2019, when its leader, Vice-Chancellor Heinz-Christian Strache was caught in a sting operation. He was filmed offering to swap government contracts for political support to men posing as Russian oligarchs.

A scandal broke out, and Chancellor Kurz had to end his coalition with the Freedom Party. That also ended the political career of Foreign Minister Karin Kneissl. But, as the saying goes, when one door closes, another opens.

Kneissl was a close friend of Putin’s fascism for years. For example, she visited the Crimea after the occupation, and campaigned vigorously against the post-annexation sanctions. And her personal relationship with Putin made Angie Merkel look positively standoffish.

In fact, Putin was the guest of honour at Kneissl’s 2018 wedding, and let me tell you: not every foreign minister is granted such an honour. Accompanied by the Cossack band he brought with him, Vlad danced with the blushing bride and kissed her hand. In response, Kneissl curtseyed, a gesture normally reserved for royalty.

Her rewards for loyalty were indeed royal. Having lost her government post, Kneissl joined the Rosneft board, which meant instant millions denominated in whatever currency you care to name. She also became a regular columnist at RT, Russia’s close equivalent of Der Stürmer or, to be marginally kinder, of the Völkischer Beobachter.

The aforementioned politicians immediately resigned their lucrative Russian posts after 24 February, when Russia launched her bandit raid on the Ukraine. Putin’s previous escapades of that kind, notably in Georgia, 2008, and the same Ukraine, 2014, hadn’t produced the same effect, but now their hunger for Putin’s rouble had to be put on hold.

Kneissl, however, held out for months and only reluctantly resigned from the Rosneft board in May. And now she is on the run, pursued by death threats or, more likely, the looming prospect of prosecution.

If I were her, I’d inquire if Xi has any openings for European collaborators. The lady is on a roll, and that’s like riding a tiger. The most dangerous thing you can do is to stop.