Mexican police display the ice axe used by Ramon Mercader to kill Leon Trotsky. Photo: AP
In recent years, Russian intelligence services have intensified their pursuit of Russian émigrés, orchestrating kidnappings and poisonings of journalists and opposition figures living outside the Kremlin’s jurisdiction. The story is not new. Vladimir Putin has essentially revived a long-standing KGB practice aimed not only at creating an atmosphere of fear among the country’s opposition in exile, but also at signaling to the world that the USSR — and now Russia — is willing to violate the sovereignty of other nations in order to hunt down its enemies.
This article was originally published in Russian on May 3, 2025.
Emigration is no guarantee of safety
Many émigrés and defectors naively believed — and some still do — that crossing the border out of Russia or the Soviet Union would guarantee their safety. They assumed that the Kremlin’s intelligence services would not pursue them abroad, let alone physically eliminate them on foreign soil. After all, such acts would constitute violations of sovereign laws and risk international scandal.
In reality, the Soviet leadership viewed defectors, dissident émigrés, and “anti-Soviets” as dangerous enemies, and it was prepared to target them regardless of international boundaries. Almost immediately after Bolshevik forces had secured their victory in the Russian Civil War, Soviet agents were engaged in covert assassinations abroad — from the kidnappings of White émigré generals Alexander Kutepov and Yevgeny Miller, to the assassination of exiled revolutionary Leon Trotsky.
During the Cold War, the Committee for State Security (KGB) continued this approach, targeting opposition journalists, human rights activists, and defectors from the Soviet and Eastern European camp. The aim was to show that “Moscow’s hand” could reach traitors anywhere, thereby sowing fear within émigré communities and preventing the growth of anti-Soviet sentiment abroad. Officially, the USSR denied involvement in such actions, masking assassinations as accidents or relying on intermediaries from allied Eastern Bloc intelligence services to do the actual dirty work on the ground.
The KGB fielded dedicated units to combat “ideological subversion” abroad. Within the service’s First Chief Directorate (foreign intelligence), the secretive 13th Department was tasked with “executive actions” — meaning sabotage and political assassinations. This department handled “wet work” (liquidations), using both staff agents and foreign operatives to complicate the work of investigators.
Other departments were also involved in anti-émigré operations. The so-called Emigration Department coordinated with the 13th Department to select targets within the Russian diaspora. The KGB’s Fifth Directorate (responsible for combating ideological subversion within the USSR) also monitored émigrés — collecting compromising material on dissidents who had left the country and tracking the influence of foreign publications on Soviet society. The KGB actively coordinated with allied intelligence agencies, often relying on Bulgarian, East German, or Czechoslovak services to carry out dirty work at Moscow’s behest.
This model — operating abroad through allied services or recruited agents — remains in practice today. One recent example involves the attempted kidnappings of The Insider’s investigative journalists Christo Grozev and Roman Dobrokhotov. The FSB tasked fugitive Austrian fraudster Jan Marsalek with running that operation, and in order to do the actual work on the ground, Marsalek recruited a group of Bulgarian nationals living in the UK. This improvised network surveilled the journalists, attempted to break into their homes, stole devices, and discussed possible methods of abduction and causing physical harm. These methods closely mirrored old KGB tactics: eliminate targets using proxies in order to make investigations more difficult — and keeping direct Russian involvement hidden.
Stepan Bandera, dissident writers, and defectors: confirmed liquidations and assassination attempts
Confirmed assassinations of Soviet dissidents in Europe were relatively rare — several in the 1950s, and a few isolated incidents in the 1970s-80s. But each operation was meticulously planned at high levels, and those that were exposed caused international reverberations.
More common were close calls and acts of intimidation. Soviet defectors knew they had been sentenced to death in absentia, and some indeed became victims of mysterious poisonings or disappearances in their new countries of residence.
Soviet defectors knew they had been sentenced to death in absentia and lived under constant threat.
One of the earliest high-profile Cold War incidents was the attempted assassination of Georgiy Okolovich, head of the anticommunist People’s Labor Union (NTS) and editor of the journal Posev (lit. “Sowing”). In February 1954, Moscow dispatched a team of agents to shoot Okolovich in Frankfurt. This was intended as a demonstrative act to sow panic in the Russian émigré community. The operation failed when KGB captain Nikolai Khokhlov, who was overseeing the hit, revealed the plot to the intended victim and sought asylum in the West. Following his defection, the Soviet side withdrew the team.
Nevertheless, the KGB did not abandon its targets. Soon afterward, other forceful actions were taken against members of the NTS. In April 1954, operatives linked to the KGB’s Berlin residency — with the help of the East German Stasi — kidnapped NTS official Alexander Trushnovich and transported him to East Berlin. In June of that year, another NTS member, Valery Tremmel, was seized in Austria — again with help from agents of the Soviet bloc. Both were imprisoned in the USSR.
The KGB did not limit itself to Soviet dissidents: among its victims were anti-communist lawyer Walter Linse in West Berlin (1952) and former Czechoslovak minister Bohumil Laušman in Vienna (1953). Both were handed over to Soviet authorities and died in custody.
In the late 1950s, the KGB eliminated two prominent figures of the Ukrainian anti-Soviet émigré movement who were living in West Germany. In October 1957, publicist Lev Rebet died suddenly on a staircase in Munich, reportedly from a heart attack. Years later, it was revealed that he had been assassinated using a poison gas spray pistol — a cyanide mist delivered to the face, leaving no visible marks.
In October 1959, Stepan Bandera met the same fate: a Soviet agent shot a cyanide gas jet into his face using a concealed pistol hidden in a folded newspaper. Initially, Bandera’s death was reported as an accident (a fall down stairs), but an autopsy revealed traces of potassium cyanide. Only in 1961, after assassin Bohdan Stashynsky defected and surrendered to West German authorities, did the truth emerge.
A Soviet agent killed Stepan Bandera by firing a jet of cyanide gas into his face using a concealed pistol hidden inside a folded newspaper.
At his trial in West Germany, Stashynsky explained the method — a pneumatic gun releasing a vaporized poison that left no wound — and confirmed that he had acted under direct orders from Moscow. The court ultimately found the Soviet government responsible for Bandera’s murder.
The ensuing international scandal forced the Kremlin to reconsider its strategy. After the Stashynsky trial in 1962, the USSR decided to authorize overseas assassinations only in extreme cases. Under Khrushchev and Brezhnev, political killings of émigrés became rarer and were employed very selectively — likely to avoid further embarrassment.
One of the boldest political assassinations of the late Cold War was that of Bulgarian dissident writer Georgi Markov in London. A former journalist, Markov fled communist Bulgaria and began working for the BBC and Radio Free Europe in the early 1970s, frequently criticizing the regime of Todor Zhivkov back in Sofia.
On September 7, 1978, at a bus stop in central London, Markov was stabbed with a ricin-filled capsule fired from a modified umbrella. He died a few days later, and British investigators succeeded in uncovering the unusual poisoning method.
Bulgarian dissident writer Georgi Markov was stabbed with a ricin-filled capsule fired from a modified umbrella.
Though the direct perpetrators were never found, all evidence pointed to an intelligence operation. After the Cold War, it was revealed that the Bulgarian secret service (DS) had carried out the murder with technical support from the KGB. Former KGB general Oleg Kalugin confirmed that KGB chief Yuri Andropov had personally approved the hit at Sofia’s request. The KGB supplied the poison device and toxin, and it also advised on the operation.
Around the same time, a similar attempt was made in Paris against another defector — journalist Vladimir Kostov. A ricin microcapsule was fired into his back, but the dose was not lethal. These attacks became symbols of pinpoint operations against anti-Soviet voices in Europe. Markov’s assassination caused a major outcry, but the Bulgarian operatives were never brought to justice.
The KGB targeted not only ideological opponents but also former Soviet officers who fled West and cooperated with Western intelligence. A notable case is that of Soviet Navy Captain Nikolai Artamonov (known in the U.S. as Nicholas Shadrin), who defected in 1959 and became a valuable asset for American intelligence. In 1975, while engaged in counterintelligence operations that involved meeting KGB agents in Europe, Shadrin mysteriously disappeared in Vienna.
Years later, it emerged that this had been a Soviet security operation: Shadrin was abducted by KGB agents, who attempted to smuggle him back to the USSR, but he died of a heart attack during the process. Kalugin later confirmed that Shadrin died during the capture. The incident remained largely unknown to the general public, but rumors of it deepened fears within émigré circles about the KGB’s reach.
These are all confirmed cases, but of course, the KGB’s shadow loomed over any suspicious death of Soviet citizens in exile. In 1966, Victor Kravchenko — author of I Chose Freedom and a vocal critic of Stalinist-era state crimes — was found shot dead in Manhattan. Officially ruled a suicide, many researchers believe he was eliminated by KGB agents.
In December 1977, dissident singer-songwriter Alexander Galich died in Paris from electrocution by a faulty radio. Persistent rumors suggested a KGB plot, though officially his death was deemed an accident. In 1980, dissident historian Andrei Amalrik died in a car crash in Spain, sparking conspiracy theories of KGB involvement.
There is no direct proof tying Soviet agents to these incidents, but all the victims were outspoken critics of the USSR, and their deaths served the regime’s interests. In many known cases, the KGB used methods that left little trace — poisonings, staged suicides, or orchestrated accidents. It is not difficult to imagine that the Soviet state played the main role in at least some of the unsolved deaths of dissidents abroad.
Methods: poison, kidnappings, kompromat
The KGB favored quiet methods of elimination — poison and covert tools — over firearms or high-profile acts of terrorism. This allowed Moscow to disguise assassinations as natural deaths and avoid international scandal.
According to Western investigations, Soviet intelligence experimented with a wide array of toxins, including: ricin, potassium cyanide, arsenic compounds, thallium, and scopolamine. For example, in 1957, the aforementioned KGB defector Nikolai Khokhlov suddenly fell seriously ill at an anti-communist conference in West Germany. Doctors discovered he had been poisoned with a complex thallium-based compound. Khokhlov survived.
The KGB maintained secret laboratories that developed exotic weapons, from poison sprays to disguised pistols built into “pens” and “umbrellas.” Operations were prepared in extreme secrecy: operatives received forged documents, and the poisons were designed to leave no trace.
The KGB maintained secret laboratories that developed exotic weapons, from poison sprays to disguised pistols built into “pens” and “umbrellas.”
Kidnappings were another tool of the state security apparatus. If a target was deemed valuable — for example, if they were in possession of sensitive information — it was preferable to extract them to the USSR. For this, the KGB often relied on “fraternal” intelligence services in Eastern Europe. Typically, local agents carried out abductions, as was the case in kidnappings in West Berlin and Vienna in the early 1950s. Victims were forcibly transported across the border to the East, where they were secretly tried and sent to prison camps.
Such cases were relatively rare — most dissidents abroad were protected by Western governments — but each incident (Linse, Laušman, Trushnovich, Shadrin) had a strong psychological impact. The KGB demonstrated that not even fleeing to the West could guarantee a dissident’s safety.
In addition to physical elimination, discrediting and psychological pressure were powerful weapons. The KGB systematically sought to destroy the reputations of active émigrés via a variety of methods— planted compromising materials, media rumors, and provocations. The special Service “A” (Disinformation) within the First Chief Directorate manufactured and disseminated “dirty rumors” about prominent opposition figures abroad.
For instance, forged documents might be leaked to Western media “exposing” a dissident as a Nazi collaborator or a CIA agent. The KGB was known to forge letters and diaries, and even to create front organizations to sow division within the émigré community.
Journalists from émigré publications were a special target. If they could not be eliminated, the KGB sought to neutralize their influence via long-running active measures. Soviet propaganda branded them “fascists and traitors,” and agents were infiltrated into editorial offices in order to gather intelligence and provoke internal conflicts. For example, in the 1960s, Soviet pseudo defector Yuri Marin was inserted into the Russian-language staff of Radio Free Europe in Munich to spy on its employees.
In the 1960s, Soviet pseudo defector Yuri Marin was inserted into the Russian-language staff of Radio Free Europe in Munich to spy on its employees.
Similar agents were embedded in other émigré groups, societies, and even churches. Their tasks ranged from surveillance and provocation to aiding direct actions — including terrorist attacks. In 1981, the Radio Free Europe building in Munich was severely damaged by a bomb planted by the terrorist group led by Carlos the Jackal, which, as was later revealed in the Stasi archives, was acting on behalf of Eastern European intelligence.
Another key tactic involved the use of threats and blackmail. The KGB’s Fifth Directorate compiled detailed dossiers on every potentially dangerous defector: data on their past, their contacts, and their vulnerabilities. If the person still had relatives in the USSR, this became a lever of pressure. The families were threatened with repression in an effort to silence the dissident abroad.
Defectors detail the KGB’s international operations
Many details of these operations became known only through the testimonies of KGB defectors and the declassification of documents. The first major whistleblower was Nikolai Khokhlov, who himself was targeted after foiling the 1954 assassination attempt on Georgiy Okolovich. Khokhlov publicly disclosed the mission to kill the NTS leader, displayed the disguised weapon he had been issued (a pistol hidden in a cigarette pack), and thereby revealed the KGB’s terror practices to the West. The 1957 attempt to poison Khokhlov with thallium confirmed the agency’s vengeful nature.
A major sensation followed the story of agent Bohdan Stashynsky, who in 1961 fled across the Berlin Wall with his German wife. During his trial in West Germany, he gave detailed testimony on how he had killed Lev Rebet and Stepan Bandera on KGB orders, explaining the use of poison weapons and naming his handlers. These confessions provided the first official proof of Soviet state involvement in assassinations abroad, and the 1962 court verdict held the Kremlin directly responsible.
In later decades, new sources further filled out the picture. Defectors from Eastern Bloc services — such as Ion Mihai Pacepa, a general in Romania’s Interior Ministry who defected in 1978 — claimed that Moscow never abandoned its practice of conducting assassinations, but simply became more cautious, often acting through proxies. Former KGB general Oleg Kalugin, who defected in the 1990s, confirmed the agency’s involvement in several major operations — from the attempt on Bulgarian writer Georgi Markov (which he described as a joint KGB–Bulgarian DS operation sanctioned by Yuri Andropov) to the kidnapping of Shadrin. Kalugin and other intelligence veterans admitted that “betrayal was not forgiven” — every defector had a death sentence hanging over them that could be carried out at any moment.
A vast trove of information came to light through the Mitrokhin Archive, compiled by Vasili Mitrokhin, a former KGB archivist who secretly copied thousands of classified documents. In 1992, he smuggled his records to the West, and based on this material, the Mitrokhin Archive book was published in 1999, revealing numerous covert KGB operations around the world. The archive confirmed the scale of the “active measures” program targeting dissidents — from surveillance and discrediting to plans for physical liquidation.
Among them were details of the operation against Georgi Markov, including the KGB’s provision of poison. The documents also mention other planned assassinations discussed in Moscow, though many were never executed due to the high level of risk.
Unfortunately, the vast majority of original Soviet intelligence documents related to such operations remain inaccessible to researchers. Despite a 1992 decree by President Boris Yeltsin to open KGB archives related to human rights abuses from 1917–1991, meaningful materials on political assassinations were never published.
Although the KGB as an organization disappeared with the fall of the USSR, its legacy lives on. The methods perfected in Soviet times are still used today by Russian intelligence, which sees itself as the direct heir of the Soviet tradition. Modern poisonings, political murders, and intimidation campaigns against Kremlin opponents abroad are not a new phenomenon — they are the continuation of a long-established practice, passed down from generation to generation.