I’ve already written about how a bank refused to exchange $100 for me.
Today, I was at notary’s office making out an ordinary power of attorney. The tired woman was typing my passport date into the computer when, suddenly, her eyes widened.
“It says here you’re on the list of terrorists!”
I corrected her.
“You probably mean the list of extremists. Rosfinmonitoring’s list and all that. What does it have to do with a power of attorney?” I asked.
“I can’t do anything for you,” she said, adding, “I’m obliged to report you!”
She did not issue me the power of attorney, ultimately. She said the program would not let her go any farther, and that all notaries used the same database.
I asked her what I should do. How can an adult get by in life without notarizing contracts and major transactions?
Here are my preliminary conclusions. I did time for a crime to which I did not confess. I was released from prison. Now, seemingly, I am a free man, a citizen and taxpayer. But I cannot open an ordinary account in a bank. I cannot ask a notary to notarize a transaction, agreement or deed. Theoretically, I will have problems finding a job due to the fact that it will be impossible for an employer to open a payroll account for me.
What should we call this state of affairs? An incentive to recividism? Or an incentive to emigrate?
P.S. When I asked both the bank and the notary to give me written explanations for their rejections, they claimed they were having technical difficulties with their systems.
P.P.S. When I was in prison, I had no problems drawing up powers of attorney, and I had my own bank account.
On February 7, 1952, the closed trial of members of a Moscow young people’s literary club was held in Moscow. They were accused of disseminating leaflets, produced on a hectograph, about the undemocratic Soviet electoral system. A total of sixteen schoolchildren and university students stood as defendants in the case. They were charged with treason and planning the murder of [Politburo member and Stalin henchman Georgy] Malenkov. The group’s three organizers were sentenced to death. Three other members were sentenced to ten years in the camps, while the remaining ten members were sentenced to twenty-five years in the camps. In addition, Susanna Pechuro was accused of acting as a liaison between youth organizations and Jewish Zionist organizations.
At the end of World War II and shortly after, Malenkov implemented Stalin’s plan to destroy all political and cultural competition from Leningrad, the former capital of Russia, in order to concentrate all power in Moscow. Leningrad and its leaders earned immense respect and popular support due to winning the heroic Siege of Leningrad. Both Stalin and Malenkov expressed their hatred to anyone born and educated in Leningrad, so they organized and led the attack on the Leningrad elite. Beria and Malenkov together with Abakumov organized massive executions of their rivals in the Leningrad Affair where all leaders of Leningrad and Zhdanov’s allies were killed, and thousands more were locked up in Gulag labour camps upon Stalin’s approval. Malenkov personally ordered the destruction of the Museum of the Siege of Leningrad and declared the 900-day-long defense of Leningrad “a myth designed by traitors trying to diminish the greatness of comrade Stalin.” Simultaneously, Malenkov replaced all communist party and administrative leadership in Leningrad [with] provincial communists loyal to Stalin.
Susanna Solomonovna Pechuro (22 July 1933, Moscow—1 January 2014, Moscow) was Soviet dissident, political prisoner, and historian.
In 1950, while still a schoolgirl, she became involved in the underground youth organization Union of Struggle for the Revolution (SDR), formed by several 16- and 17-year-olds who had met in a literary club at the Moscow Young Pioneers House. The SDR tasked itself with returning Soviet society and the Soviet state to Leninist principles of organization, which, in their opinion, had been perverted by Stalin’s Bonapartist regime.
On January 18, 1951, Pechuro was arrested along with the organization’s other members. On February 13, 1952, the Military Collegium of the USSR Supreme Court sentenced Pechuro to 25 years in labor camps on charges of treason and planning the murder of Georgy Malenkov[.] The organization’s three leaders, Boris Slutsky (born 1932), Vladlen Furman (born 1932), and Yevgeny Gurevich (born 1931) were shot.
Pechuro served her sentence in various Gulag camps, including camps in Inta, Abez, and Potma. In 1956, the group’s case was reexamined. Pechuro’s sentence was reduced to five years and she was released.
Although she passed the entrance exams to Moscow State University’s history department, she was not enrolled. She graduated from the Moscow State Historical Archives Institute.
At the Historical Archives Institute, Pechuro researched the purges during the reign of Ivan the Terrible. Her work was published in the Proceedings of the Moscow State Historical Archives Institute. In 1961, she successfully defended her thesis, “The Decree Books as a Source on the History of Ivan the Terrible’s Zemshchina,” with Alexander Zimin as her advisor.
Pechuro worked in the Archive of Ancient Documents at the Institute for African Studies.
She was rehabilitated only on July 18, 1989, by the Plenum of the USSR Supreme Court.
The Union of Struggle for the Revolution (SDR) was a radical left-wing anti-Stalinist underground youth organization that existed between 1950 and 1951.
The Union of Struggle for the Revolution (SDR) was organized in Moscow by university students Boris Slutsky, Yevgeny Gurevich, and Vladlen Furman in 1950. The organization drafted a program and manifesto that spoke of socialism’s degeneration into state capitalism, described the Stalinist regime as Bonapartist, and noted the lack of civil liberties, the farcical elections, the imperial nature of [Soviet] foreign policy, and the disastrous state of agriculture. The members of the organization reproduced the documents on a hectograph.
The members of the organization were arrested by the MGB in January and February 1951.
On February 13, 1952, the Military Collegium of the USSR Supreme Court issued a verdict in the case. The verdict stated that a group of Jewish nationalists had established a treacherous terrorist organization whose members had tasked themselves with overthrowing the current Soviet regime by means of an armed uprising and terrorist acts against the leaders of the Soviet government and Communist Party. The only SDR member who did not plead guilty was Maya Ulanovskaya. Slutsky, Gurevich, and Furman were sentenced to death. Ten members of the organization were sentenced to 25 years in prison, and three more, to 10 years. The three leaders of the SDR were shot on March 26, 1952, and their ashes were buried at Donskoe Cemetery. The surviving defendants were released from the camps after a retrial in 1956. In 1989, all the defendants in the case, some posthumously, were rehabilitated “for lack of evidence of a crime.”
Sentenced to death: Yevgeny Gurevich (born 1931) Boris Slutsky (born 1932) Vladlen Furman (born 1931)
Sentenced to 10 years in prison: Tamara Lazarevna (born 1932) Galina Smirnova (born 1931) Nina Uflyand (born 1934)
Sentenced to 25 years in prison: Irena Arginskaya (born 1932) Ida Vinnikova (born 1931) Felix Voin (born 1931) Grigory Mazur (born 1931) Vladimir Melnikov (born 1932) Yekaterina Panfilova (born 1932) Susanna Pechuro (born 1933) Alla Reif (born 1931) Maya Ulanovskaya (born 1932) Inna Elgisser (born 1930)
In 1949, after graduating from high school, Ulanovskaya enrolled in the Moscow Food Industry Institute. There she joined the underground anti-Stalinist youth organization Union of Struggle for the Revolution (SDR).
On February 7, 1951, Ulanovskaya was arrested by the MGB. On February 13, 1952, she was sentenced to 25 years in prison. She served her sentence in Ozerlag.
In February 1956, the case was reviewed, Ulanovskaya’s sentence was reduced to five years, and she and her accomplices were released under an amnesty.
The same year, she married Anatoly Yakobson. In 1959, she gave birth to a son, who later became a historian, journalist, and politician.
In 1973, she emigrated with her husband and son to Israel. In 1974, she divorced her husband.
Ulanovskaya worked at the National Library in Jerusalem. She has translated several books from English (including books by Arthur Koestler), Hebrew, and Yiddish. She and her mother co-authored a memoir entitled The Story of One Family, published in the US in 1982 and later reprinted in Russia. She is author of the book Freedom and Dogma: The Life and Work of Arthur Koestler (Jerusalem Publishing Center, 1996).
Deportation of Crimean Tatars Remembered in Petersburg David Frenkel
Special to The Russian Reader
May 20, 2015
On May 19, Petersburg democracy activists commemorated the Soviet Stalinist government’s mass deportation of Crimean Tartars on May 18, 1944. Activists held a series of solo pickets on Nevsky Prospect before gathering for an evening event at Open Space, a co-working venue run by the organization St. Petersburg Election Observers.
Several activists, including Vsevolod Nechayev, leader of the Democratic Petersburg coalition, Andrey Zyrkunov of the liberal-democratic party Yabloko, and Igor “Stepanych” Andreyev, a famous local activist, took to the city’s main street with placards calling on fellow citizens to remember the anniversary of the deportation and blaming the current Russian authorities for preventing commemorations in Crimea itself.
Local activist Igor “Stepanych” Andreyev picketing on Nevsky Prospect, May 19, 2015. His placard reads, “Stalin’s deportation of the Crimean Tatars is a crime with no statute of limitations! A people’s memory cannot be murdered! Even according to the NKVD’s statistics, 44,887 deportees from Crimea died in 1944–1945.”
Apparently inured to pickets and demonstrations of various kinds, passersby mostly exhibited indifference. A couple of young men attempted to harass the protesters, but most passersby merely glanced at the picketers before continuing on their way.
Picketer handing out leaflets on Nevsky Prospect, May 19, 2015
In the evening, activists gathered at Open Space to continue their commemorations. Alexandra Krylenkova, leader of St. Petersburg Election Observers, is field coordinator of the Crimean Field Mission on Human Rights.
Activists viewed a documentary film about the deportation and chatted with Asan Mumdzhi, a member of the Crimean Tatar community in Petersburg.
They also talked via Skype with Zair Smedlya, head of the Qurultay of the Crimean Tatar People. Smedlya described the current situation in the Crimea. Police arrest protesters en masse even at authorized protests and auto rallies, but generally the authorities refuse to grant permission to hold such events.
“The same old story,” muttered someone in the audience.
The current Crimean authorities have tried to turn the commemoration of the 1944 deportation into a celebration of the fact that President Putin signed a decree “rehabilitating” the Crimean Tatars on April 21 of this year.
Mumdzhi compared this to Jews being “rehabilitated” by Germans.
Smedlya also claimed that people had been arrested for carrying Ukrainian flags, which is not illegal.
“Crimean policemen didn’t know the Ukrainian laws. Now they do not know the Russian laws,” Smedlya quipped.
The gathering ended with a screening of the Crimean Tatar-language film Haytarma, which tells the story of the highly decorated Soviet fighter pilot Amet-khan Sultan, who accidentally witnessed the deportation and managed to keep his family in Crimea.
Yesterday, April 26, 2013, a district court in Zubova Polyana, Mordovia, denied imprisoned Pussy Riot activist Nadezhda Tolokonnikova’s request for parole. According to Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, Judge Lidiya Yakovleva agreed with arguments made by prison authorities that it would be “premature” to release Tolokonnikova given that she “had been cited for prison rules violations and expressed no remorse,” and had not participated in such prison activities as the “Miss Charm Prison Camp 14 beauty contest.” Judge Yakovleva made her ruling without allowing the defense to make a closing argument, thus allegedly violating the Criminal Procedure Code. Tolokonnikova had written her statement out in advance. The translation below is of the Russian original as published in full on the web site of RFE/RL’s Russian Service (Radio Svoboda). Photos courtesy of the Free Pussy Riot Facebook page.
“Has the convict started down the road to rehabilitation?” This is the question asked when a request for parole is reviewed. I would also like us to ask the following question today: What is this “road to rehabilitation”?
I am absolutely convinced that the only correct road is one on which a person is honest with others and with herself. I have stayed on this road and will not stray from it wherever life takes me. I insisted on this road while I was still on the outside, and I didn’t retreat from it in the Moscow pretrial detention facility. Nothing, not even the camps of Mordovia, where the Soviet-era authorities liked to send political prisoners, can teach me to betray the principle of honesty.
So I have not admitted and will not admit the guilt imputed to me by the Khamovniki district court’s verdict, which was illegal and rendered with an indecent number of procedural violations. At the moment, I am in the process of appealing this verdict in the higher courts. By coercing me into admitting guilt for the sake of parole, the correctional system is pushing me to incriminate myself, and, therefore, to lie. Is the ability to lie a sign that a person has started down the road to rehabilitation?
It states in my sentence that I am a feminist and, therefore, must feel hatred towards religion. Yes, after a year and two months in prison, I am still a feminist, and I am still opposed to the people in charge of the state, but then as now there is no hatred in me. The dozens of women prisoners with whom I attend the Orthodox church at Penal Colony No. 14 cannot see this hatred, either.
What else do I do in the colony? I work: soon after I arrived at Penal Colony No. 14, they put me behind a sewing machine, and now I am a sewing machine operator. Some believe that making political-art actions is easy, that it requires no deliberation or preparation. Based on my years of experience in actionism, I can say that carrying out an action and thinking through the artistic end-product is laborious and often exhausting work. So I know how to work and I love to work. I’m no stranger to the Protestant work ethic. Physically, I don’t find it hard to be a seamstress. And that is what I am. I do everything required of me. But, of course, I cannot help thinking about things while I’m at the sewing machine (including the road to rehabilitation) and, therefore, asking myself questions. For example: why can convicts not be given a choice as to the socially useful work they perform while serving their sentences? [Why can they not chose work] in keeping with their education and interests? Since I have experience teaching in the philosophy department at Moscow State University, I would gladly and enthusiastically put together educational programs and lectures using the books in the library and books sent to me. And by the way, I would unquestioningly do such work for more than the eight hours [a day] stipulated by the Russian Federation Labor Code; I would do this work during all the time left over from scheduled prison activities. Instead, I sew police pants, which of course is also useful, but in this work I’m obviously not as productive as I could be were I conducting educational programs.
In Cancer Ward, Solzhenitsyn describes how a prison camp detective stops one convict from teaching another convict Latin. Unfortunately, the overall attitude to education hasn’t changed much since then.
I often fantasize: what if the correctional system made its priority not the production of police pants or production quotas, but the education, training, and rehabilitation of convicts, as required by the Correctional Code? Then, in order to get parole, you would not have to sew 16 hours a day in the industrial section of the colony, trying to achieve 150% output, but successfully pass several exams after broadening your horizons and knowledge of the world, and getting a general humanities education, which nurtures the ability to adequately assess contemporary reality. I would very much like to see this state of affairs in the colony.
Why not establish courses on contemporary art in the colony?
Would that work were not a debt, but activity that was spiritual and useful in a poetic sense. Would that the organizational constraints and inertia of the old system were overcome, and values like individuality could be instilled in the workplace. The prison camp is the face of the country, and if we managed to get beyond the old conservative and totally unifying categories even in the prison camp, then throughout Russia we would see the growth of intellectual, high-tech manufacturing, something we would all like to see in order to break out of the natural resources trap. Then something like Silicon Valley could be born in Russia, a haven for risky and talented people. All this would be possible if the panic experienced in Russia at the state level towards human experimentation and creativity would give way to an attentive and respectful attitude towards the individual’s creative and critical potential. Tolerance towards others and respect for diversity provide an environment conducive to the development and productive use of the talent inherent in citizens (even if these citizens are convicts). Repressive conservation and rigidity in the legal, correctional, and other state systems of the Russian Federation, laws on registration [of one’s residence] and promotion of homosexuality lead to stagnation and a “brain drain.”
However, I am convinced that this senseless reaction in which we now forced to live is temporary. It is mortal, and this mortality is immediate. I am also certain that all of us—including the prisoners of Bolotnaya Square, my brave comrade in arms Maria Alyokhina, and Alexei Navalny—have the strength, commitment, and tenacity to survive this reaction and emerge victorious.
I am truly grateful to the people I have encountered in my life behind barbed wire. Thanks to some of them, I will never call my time in prison time lost. During the year and two months of my imprisonment, I have not had a single conflict, either in the pretrial detention facility or in prison. Not a single one. In my opinion, this shows that I am perfectly safe for any society. And also the fact that people do not buy into state media propaganda and are not willing to hate me just because a federal channel said that I’m a bad person. Lying does not always lead to victory.
Recently, I got a letter containing a parable that has become important to me. What happens to things different in nature when they are placed in boiling water? Brittle things, like eggs, become hard. Hard things, like carrots, become soft. Coffee dissolves and permeates everything. The point of the parable was this: be like coffee. In prison, I am like that coffee.
I want the people who have put me and dozens of other political activists behind bars to understand one simple thing: there are no insurmountable obstacles for a person whose values consist, first, in her principles and, second, in work and creativity based on these principles. If you strongly believe in something, this faith will help you survive and remain a human being anywhere.
I will surely use my experience in Mordovia in my future work and, although this will not happen until completion of my sentence, I will implement it in projects that will be stronger and politically larger in scale than everything that has happened to me before.
Despite the fact that imprisonment is a quite daunting experience, as a result of having it we political prisoners only become stronger, braver, and more tenacious. And so I ask the last question for today: what, then, is the point of keeping us here?