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Wednesday, Nov. 22, 2000
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A Losing Battle
The Committee of Soldiers' Mothers of Russia is fighting to help Russian servicemen
By YURI ZARAKHOVICH Moscow
Dmitri Astakhov - Izvestia
A mother of a soldier killed in Chechnya mourns at a burial for unknown soldiers
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The stream of visitors to four shabby, tiny rooms on the top floor of a decrepit three-story building on the outskirts of Moscow never dries up. Each brings his or her own grief but all the sorrow springs from the same root: inhumanity, corruption and total indifference on the part of the Russian state to its citizens.
When Vera's son Mikhail was drafted, she borrowed $500 — an unheard of sum for her impoverished family — to pay a bribe to the military to keep him out of Chechnya. Mikhail did his service near Moscow. But each Sunday, he was supposed to bring more money back to the barracks — or suffer severe beatings. Vera talked to his commanding officer. As a result, the boy was so badly battered that his kidneys could be damaged for life. Should he keep complaining, Mikhail was warned, he would die. He is still at the barracks.
As Galina Sevruk, 57, listens to Vera's story, a shadow of pain touches her face. A member of the Committee of Soldiers' Mothers of Russia (CSMR), Sevruk has heard many a sad story over the last decade, but she still cannot get used to them.
The CSMR was launched back in 1989, when concerned mothers of draftees united to demand that the conscript army be converted into a professional one. The CSMR eventually split into two sometimes rival groups, but both have been genuine and effective civil bodies, a rare phenomenon in Russia. Some charity donations come from the West, but mostly the CSMR exists on meager salaries, pensions and the volunteer work of their members and supporters. The CSMR started by looking after victims of the hazing that plagues the Russian armed forces and expanded its activities to include soldiers who became invalids during their military service and the mothers of soldiers who had been killed. This was long before the nightmare of the Chechen wars, during which Russian soldiers were sold by their own officers to slave traders in Chechnya and four CSMR members were kidnapped while on quest for their sons in Chechnya. Two died in captivity, one is still missing.
A phone call interrupts Vera's narrative. Galina Yatskevich, 62, answers. "Well, come over here," she says. "We'll do something." Yatskevich hangs up and explains: "A boy has deserted his unit. Couldn't stand the hazing any more. He is desperate." Yatskevich hopes to convince the military to transfer the boy. "That's the best they can do," she says. "They can't change their system. The army is the way the entire country is."
Yatskevich's only son Alesha was drafted back in 1996 at the age of 19. After his first 25 days of conscript service, they sent him to Chechnya, where he was killed. Now, the state pays Yatskevich $10.25 a month for her dead son. Yatskevich works at the CSMR to help other mothers like herself. Every month roughly as many servicemen die in Chechnya as died in the Kursk nuclear submarine disaster last August. President Vladimir Putin ordered lavish help for the families of the Kursk crew. But for the likes of Yatskevich, it is still $10.25 a month. Many have not been paid even that meager compensation since 1995. "It's the rich men's war, the poor men's fight," says Yatskevich. "The bosses are so indifferent to us, because they bail their sons out." The Kursk disaster shocked the country, she continues, "But Chechnya has become so routine. People don't even react any more, unless it hurts them personally."
During the first Chechen war in 1994-96, over 500 conscientious objectors publicly applied to the CSMR for help. Now people want help, too, but they do not want their names revealed. "The mood in the country has changed," explains Sevruk. "The new regime has brought back old fears. The media have changed, too: they carry on like the dead are just statistics, like nobody needs help. We try to help all who come, but it's a drop in the bucket unless we raise funds."
About $1,000 could save the life of Dmitri Pidemirov, who contracted a still unidentified bone disease while on conscript service. The 21-year-old from the provinces would have been long dead on the Moscow streets if it were not for Natalya Volkova, 53, of CSMR. She cares for Pidemirov on her small librarian's salary. Meanwhile, more and more people are coming to the decrepit CSMR headquarters, each with their own grief, each in need of the help the CSMR is so desperately trying to give.
For more information contact:
The Committee of Soldiers' Mothers of Russia,
105318, Building 1, House 3-a
Izmailovskoye Shosse
Moscow, Russia
Tel/fax: (7-095) 369-52-18
E-mail: petros@mitp.ru
Check out timeeurope.com for more Fast Forward Europe stories in the days and weeks to come. Our Fast Forward coverage culminates in a year-end special issue and website to be published on December 14
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