kraslag
NO ESCAPE FROM KRASLAG The Trans-Siberian Railway and a
concrete wall along its right-of-way separate the Nikolaevka
neighbourhood from downtown Krasnoyarsk (Siberia). At the turn of
the 20th century, it was a working class suburb named after Czar
Nicholas II. Today’s Nikolaevka is a sort of a ghetto densely
inhabited by those with a criminal past and present. The “devout
thief” Andrei Perets has been living here since recently. To find
his house you just need to ask anyone in the street – they will
tell you but only after getting to know when and where from you’ve
been released, if at all. People know him for being a "fair" person
knowing the criminal "law" and all that. Andrei is the owner of a
malina – a hideout where those released from jail may come
and live for a while deciding what to do or where to go. At the
time we came to visit Andrei, there were three "passengers" in his
hideout. Andrei’s past is obscure: he had a few convictions for
robbery and spent a long time in jail. He’s been out of prison
since a few years now. During one of his terms, he suggested to
build a church on prison premises and got it done. After release –
around 2002, he met Father Valery Soldatov, an Orthodox priest who,
at that time, was a chaplain for regional prisons, and began
working for him as an acolyte, wore a cassock and Father Valery
even arranged a room for him in a low-income dorm-like complex
where he himself lived. Today, all this is in the past. For reasons
only Andrei may know, he returned to his underworld he was used to.
He says however he is no longer involved in grave crimes, earning
his living by petty fraud such as selling fake drugs to passengers
of Trans-Siberian trains. For the Orthodox Easter, Andrei still
visits Father Valery to take communion and the last time he even
offered him an egg – a traditional Easter gift – with a touching,
childish marker-written dedication: "To Our Father from Perets and
Valentos”. Valentos aka Valentina is Andrei Perets' girlfriend.
Life of a former convict is an ongoing struggle for survival. A
half of Andrei’s house has recently burnt down: someone threw
Molotov cocktails into his yard. “That’s fine - he says - I’m like
Saint Job, ate the dust and live on”. Then, a murdered woman has
been discovered nearby, and police, according to Andrei,
immediately wanted to pin this on him - he barely escaped another
prison term. When he talks, it's always about the injustice of the
“system” and an eternal resistance. Talking to former convicts on
their “territory” you may come to a paradoxical conclusion. At a
time when the social tissue of the Russian society is disrupted,
when the social environment is disorganised with almost no trust to
each other, no solidarity or mutual help, the criminal milieu
remains perhaps the only stratum of society where all this still
exists, although in a peculiar form. Also, those with criminal
convictions are the most legally savvy people in the country, after
professional lawyers, of course, willing to fight for their rights
to the end, unlike the broader population. That said, the nature of
criminal relationships, criminal argot, culture and habits have
long ago poured out of prison gates and entered the flesh and blood
of the Russian state and society. Many traits that characterise
today’s Russia stem from the prison: informal hierarchies, a cult
of force and money, distrust and suspicion, unlimited hedonism
translating into alcohol and drug abuse. Here, again a paradox: a
society which soaked up the criminal culture and habits has not
developed (and is not apparently willing to develop) any measures
to socially reintegrate those released from jail. “Nobody needs
problems”, - said one local businessman answering a question
whether he was prepared to hire former convicts. This is
understandable. Hard-core criminals would never work for a modest
salary if faced with a perspective of easy money. A vicious circle:
no public or non-governmental body exist to socialise former
convicts; some of them might still want to quit their criminal
profession but they rarely accept low-pay jobs offered to them by
the employment offices. After being released, they face an
invisible wall of alienation and are forced to seek support from
their like to survive. Just as Nikolaevka is separated by a
concrete wall from the city, Russian criminals are isolated in
their parallel anarchic universe. An obscene motto which may
loosely be translated as "You never get a blowjob from a cop, you
never escape from Kraslag” is tattooed on Andrei Perets’ legs to
reflect this reality. Kraslag is an acronym for
'Krasnoyarsk Prisons'. This tattoo cannot be undone anymore and
Andrei and his "passengers” cannot be pulled out from their
criminal underworld. Moreover, crime in Russia becomes sometimes a
form of an unconscious social protest since the society has no
skills or possibilities to relieve social tensions in a civilised
way. The Russian government has recently initiated a large-scale
prison reform aimed at putting an end to Stalin-era penitentiary
practices but many experts remain skeptical as to what this reform
is going to produce.
