YALTA, Crimea – In his 2017 New Year’s address to the nation, Ukrainian President Petro Poroshenko spoke about liberating Crimea and bringing a bright future once again to all on the peninsula.
Throughout 2016, Crimea seemed high on the government’s agenda. A United Nations General Assembly resolution condemning human rights violations was passed and several Crimean political prisoners were liberated from Russia thanks to the efforts of Ukrainian diplomacy. The Scythian gold dispute in a Dutch court was resolved in Ukraine’s favor, reasserting the country’s sovereignty over Crimean cultural heritage. Crimean Tatar singer and Eurovision winner Jamala was awarded the prestigious title of Honored Artist of Ukraine.
Undoubtedly, all good news here.
But how exactly have these symbolic victories helped resolve the problems that nearly 2 million Crimeans are facing on an everyday basis?
Almost three years after the Russian occupation started, many of the once-fervent Vladimir Putin supporters resent the Kremlin’s failure to deliver on the promises to inject investment, rebuild infrastructure, sweep corruption and turn the peninsula into a top tourist destination.
Rocketing consumer prices and the tightening grip on smaller businesses have prompted growing popular outcry. According to the estimates, somewhere between 50,000 and 100,000 Crimeans, including about 10 percent of the Crimean Tatar population – the peninsula’s natives – have left since 2014.
Against this grim backdrop, pro-Ukrainian Crimean residents still nurture faith in the liberation of the Russian-occupied peninsula. The advent of the new year was traditionally celebrated twice across the peninsula: first Moscow, then Kyiv time.
“We have no illusions about Ukraine; we understand there are economic and political difficulties on the continent as well. But Ukraine is changing and it has a future,” says a man from Yalta who feared retribution from Russian authorities if identified. He said there are many supporters of Ukraine in the resort city. Indeed, in September, a group of parents successfully lobbied for a Ukrainian-language class to re-open at one of Yalta’s secondary schools.
Sadly, Kyiv has disappointed loyal Crimeans, both those residing in the peninsula and those who fled since the Russian annexation. While it is clear that Ukraine lacks resources necessary to reclaim Crimea at this time, many are outraged by the government’s unwillingness to undertake a range of simple measures to make life easier for them.
Moving to the continent in pursuit of freedom of expression or a better life, Crimeans have often left behind family. Many go back and forth to visit: in 2015, more than 1.5 million people crossed the administrative border with Crimea. Getting in or out is quite a challenge; a journey from Kyiv to the peninsula can take up to 30 hours. Since late 2014, all direct public transportation between Crimea and the continent has been canceled.
The nearest stop for Ukrainian trains is about 25 kilometers north of the administrative border. From the train station in Novooleksiyivka, there is no way to get to the Ukrainian checkpoint via public transport – one has to catch a taxi. Between the Ukrainian and the Russian checkpoints, there is a 3 kilometer buffer zone to be crossed. If it is daytime, you may be lucky to catch a “shuttle bus” to the Crimean side; otherwise, you just have to walk, rain or shine.
A faster and easier travel option is getting a seat on a private bus. However, a roundtrip costs about Hr 1,400-Hr 2,000 ($48-$70), which is about six times the minimum cost of travel before 2014 and is not affordable for all. Despite both Russian and Ukrainian customs being well aware of the mushrooming cross-border transportation business, passengers are still forced to get out of the buses at the border, pretending they arrived to the checkpoints by themselves. They then have to cross a nearly 1 kilometer buffer zone by feet, carrying their luggage. Because the bus companies operate illegally, no security is guaranteed for travelers.
Ukrainian checkpoints are wildly infamous for poor customer service.
One mother of three from Yalta shared her border-crossing experience on Dec. 28, typical for the holiday season:
“At 3 a.m. there was a queue of over 50 people on the Ukrainian side entering Crimea and about 200 people exiting.” She says only one Ukrainian border service agent was there to serve the queue, as opposed to four agents on the Russian side.
“Children, elders, everyone had to stand in the freezing wind for hours (on the Ukrainian side). The Russians worked much faster and at least provided a warm waiting space. As much as I would have loved to say the opposite, the Russians were the ones better prepared for handling the flow of the border-crossers wishing to reunite with their families for the New Year’s.”
While border crossing can be a pain for visitors, it is certainly a nightmare for those leaving Crimea for good.
“According to the law, you are allowed to cross the administrative border with a binocular and a printing machine, but may be refused to take, say, a laptop or a tea kettle with you,” says Maksym Tymochko, a lawyer at the Helsinki Human Rights Union who is approached by internally displaced persons looking for legal support on daily basis. He explains that, according to the legislation in place, one is only allowed to cross the administrative border with personal belongings from a 24-item list in the Customs Code.
Transporting things like furniture, utensils and animals across the administrative border with Crimea is illegal. At the same time, no courier services operate between Crimea and continental Ukraine.
“Clearly, such gaps in the legislation cause corruption at the border to spur,” Tymochko says. Left at the discretion of customs officers, movers are often left with no other alternative than to bribe to get through or spend a fortune on new home appliances.
Once a Crimean has moved to continental Ukraine, fleeing persecution or searching for better living conditions, should not he or she expect a warm welcome? After all, the president himself has multiple times declared the welfare of the internally displaced persons a national priority.
“It is our political and moral obligation to protect and support (the IDPs),” he told the 2016 United Nations Summit for Refugees and Migrants. The law on the rights and freedoms of IDPs adopted in 2014 stipulates Ukraine is committed to ensuring favorable living conditions for them.
But what support can an IDP really hope for?
Erfan Kudusov, Crimean Tatar activist who has moved to Kyiv after the occupation, smiles bitterly at the question. “I have four children and the only support I get from the state is 2400 hr ($83) per month. I pay Hr 8,500 for rent, plus up to Hr 4,000 ($138) for public utilities.” The so-called “targeted assistance” for IDPs amounts to as little as Hr 442 (about $16) monthly per person. “The only reason we are still holding on is the kindness of the people who have been helping us. But they cannot keep helping us survive forever; neither can we keep begging for their support,” he sad.
In Kyiv, Kudusov runs a store selling traditional Crimean Tatar artwork. He says that, while living costs are lower in smaller cities, it is harder to find a job or start a business there.
While seven cottage settlements funded with foreign aid now provide temporary shelter to about 3,500 of the most vulnerable IDPs from Crimea and Donbas, no assistance is provided with permanent housing. “There are no practical mechanisms that could help the displaced, say, get an apartment for free or at a discount” says Tymochko.
Crimean students, too, hardly receive any state support despite the promise. Back in 2015, the government boasted a new law stipulating that internally displaced university students were eligible for privileges like access to government scholarships and free dormitory.
The implementation mechanism for the measure was supposed to be written out in a separate order by June 2015.
“When the document was finally adopted (three academic semesters past the deadline, in November 2016), it rendered the original promise of support nearly useless,” comments Anna Rassamakhina, a lawyer at a Helsinki Human Rights Union.
According to this new document, the decision on whether to provide a free dormitory to an internally displaced student is at the sole discretion of the university’s rector. There is no mechanism of appeal for students denied the privilege. Neither has anything changed for internally displaced students in terms of tuition. She says only those already enrolled on a government scholarship but not receiving a merit-based allowance can benefit and are now entitled to a need-based allowance of Hr 1,000 ($35) per month.
Yet, encouraging young Crimeans to study in continental Ukraine is crucial. Youth are the future; and we are losing our future to the Kremlin.
Unlike Ukraine, Russia has introduced university quotas specifically for Crimeans. In 2015, Moscow obliged universities to reserve 2-5 percent of government scholarships for applicants of Crimean origin; across the country, 18,000 scholarships were offered for about 16,000 Crimean high school graduates. Besides, Crimeans have been allowed to enroll at any higher education institution without taking exams mandatory for all Russian applicants. By contrast, only 12 universities offer a similar exam waiver for Crimeans in Ukraine.
Crimeans are fed up with Kyiv’s cheap talk and no action.
The trust of even Ukraine’s most passionate supporters and their families is vanishing, when they are treated with disrespect at the border and faced with draconian customs regulations.
Crimeans are losing faith when – trying to start a life from scratch in continental Ukraine – they are denied basic support with housing and education. It is time the government proved its commitment to Crimea, if we ever want it back.
