It’s not at all a happy instance, of course: this week’s destruction of an Azerbaijan Airlines passenger plane over Kazakhstan, killing 38 of the passengers and crew.

As expected, immediately following the tragedy, there was speculation as to the possibility of the plane having been struck by a missile — and, because of the location, likely at the hands of Russian forces in the area. As evidence mounted that this might indeed have occurred, the Putin government went into defensive mode, cautioning against promoting “hypotheses” as to the cause of the crash.

But they didn’t flatly deny it. And yesterday brought a headline that both shocked and delighted me:

“Putin Apologizes, Tells Azerbaijan Russian Air Defenses Were Activated When Jet Crashed”
[RFE/RL’s Russian Service, December 28, 2024]

The report said that “Russian President Vladimir Putin has apologized over the crash of an Azerbaijan Airlines passenger plane this week, the Kremlin said, amid growing evidence that the jet was hit by a Russian air-defense missile in the Chechnya region before it went down in Kazakhstan, killing 38 of the 67 people on board. In a phone call with Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev, Putin said Russian air defenses were repelling an alleged Ukrainian drone attack on Chechnya’s capital, Grozny, when the plane was trying to land at the airport there, a Kremlin statement said.” [Id.]

It went on to state that Putin had “conveyed his apologies in connection with the fact that the tragic incident occurred in Russian airspace” — while still not acknowledging that it was indeed a Russian missile strike that had caused the crash. [Id.]

Well, all right . . . that’s almost an apology. It actually sounds, from the reports available, more like an expression of sympathy. But it’s a huge step in the right direction as compared to the aftermath of another crash, some 41 years ago, that was quite personal to me . . .

*. *. *

1983: Korean Airlines flight shot down by Soviet Union.

I was in the office when the call came from the Dean of Columbia University Law School, telling me that John Oldham had been on that Korean Air Flight 007 to Seoul, en route to China for his summer of study and teaching.

All I could say was, “No! Not the one the Soviets shot down!”

Tragically, yes.

John was an amazing young man — smart, hard-working, decent, with a bright future. Just having graduated from law school, he was scheduled to join our firm; but first he had been offered an internship in Beijing for a year of study, with a side job of teaching English. He had been scheduled to leave a day earlier, but had changed his reservations in order to accommodate a friend who needed help with something. That was John.

And now he was gone.

It fell to me to tell everyone — but first of all, Walter. That was my immediate boss, Walter Surrey — a prominent international attorney and senior partner of a firm with clients doing business throughout the world, including China and the Soviet Union. But he was at a dental appointment that morning, so I had to tell him by phone, before he might hear it somewhere else.

When I called him at the dentist’s office and broke the news, he said nothing for a moment. Then: “Call Tregub. I want him in my office at noon. No excuses.” And he hung up.

Valeriy Tregub was our commercial contact in the Soviet Embassy. When I reached him by phone, there were none of the usual niceties. I told him bluntly, “One of our people was on that plane. Walter wants to see you here at noon.” And he didn’t argue.

When Tregub arrived, he looked as though he’d already been through hell; and his meeting with Walter didn’t help. I learned later from Walter that he had told Tregub what he thought his government should do: accept responsibility for a terrible, accidental tragedy, and offer restitution. But of course, that never happened. Instead, the Soviet government under Yuri Andropov closed ranks, denied involvement in the incident, and slammed shut the Iron Curtain.

And to this day, there has been no justice for the 269 passengers and crew members on that flight . . . John Oldham included. He would have been around 65 now, perhaps a father and grandfather, and probably looking forward to retirement from a highly successful career. But it never happened.

And 41 years later, it still hurts — for me, and for the families and friends of the other 268 people aboard that flight. Nothing could have brought those victims back to life; but an apology — or even a simple acknowledgment of responsibility — would have gone a long way toward mitigating the anger.

*. *. *

So perhaps now, in a world some four decades older and (hopefully) wiser, Vladimir Putin will take yet another step toward doing the right thing, admit that his people made a tragic mistake, and offer restitution — not simply to improve his image, but because it is the right thing to do.

Just sayin’ . . ..

Brendochka
12/29/24