File 126 (Disappearing in Caucasus) focuses on a decade of abductions that have taken place in Chechnya, and have now spread to the neighboring republics of Ingushetia and Dagestan. It’s a book project I’ve been working on for a last year and half, soon be presented, as a part of a group exhibition, by Moving Walls, as brief multimedia projection in FotoFreo, as well as two exhibitions in Denmark (details to follow). This text should give you an idea about the book. You’re welcome to email me for further details at bastashevski at gmail dot com
Abduction as a concealment tactic, now most commonly referred to as “no body, no problem”, became prevalent in 2000, during the second Russian-Chechen conflict. Since then, it has become the signature of the Russian counterinsurgency regime, and has varied only in the severity of its application, and continues today. Due to the relatively small size of the nations composing the republics of Northern Caucasus, the abductions have touched the lives nearly every family in this region.
The legal vacuum surrounding the Russian counterinsurgency regime squarely places most of the civilians in North Caucasus outside of the system. The law is applied in such a way as to actively discourage the victim’s families from seeking assistance from within the state. Although families continue to file lawsuits with the police, both sides understand that it merely serves to create more paperwork - shelved as soon as it is signed. The majority of the last decade’s abductions remain uninvestigated.
In their current context, the abducted are incorporeal, as if they never were. They’re no longer with the living, but unlisted among dead. File-126 serves as a history and an acknowledgement of these atrocities and those who have suffered in their wake.
July 2009 Memorial Grozny receives information that a victim of abduction reported to Memorial earlier that year, Apti Zainalov, had been spotted in Atchko-Martan hospital with multiple bullet wounds. Apti was unconscious and being kept under strict surveillance. Memorial launched an immediate inquiry, but the organization lost access to Apti after he was relocated to a secure facility in Gudermess.
Batyr Albakov was arrested by police on the night of July 10th, 2009 remained missing for two weeks until his body surfaced in a Nazran morgue. Riddled with multiple bullet wounds the body also displayed signs of severe torture.
Hectic days in Dagestan.
Two more (two yesterday) assumed leaders of Makhatchkala insurgency group were executed during a special operation conducted in a densely populated area of the city this afternoon. According to the MVD press-reports the two were responsible for setting up an explosives trap earlier this morning. Similar to above security frenzy echoed throughout Dagestan since the attack on ‘siloviki’ on 6th. of January.
Just finished photographing first part of a new project. The project whatever media it turns out to be, is meant to analyze the identity of small nations situated on in the mid- fields of larger political players. Here is an example:
Abkhazia, a tiny enclave on the Black Sea, is one of the oldest nations in Caucasus. It stands today in the wreckage left by the Georgian-Abkhazian conflict of 1992–1993 and is subject to an economic blockade; a direct result of the most recent conflict in August 2008. In its present state Abkahzia exists in limbo, there is no visible reconstruction, and niether are there outward signs that Abkhazia either approves or disapproves of its most recent patron and annexer— Moscow. The juxtaposition of wartime rubble with its almost indefineably light holiday air, causes its infrequent visitors to describe Abkhazia as a dream.
If a dream is what it is, it is entirely the dream of others: a re-occuring dream so old that it may lie at the very core of contemporary Abkhazia— Abkhazia is a country of occupations, and more than anything else, the state of being occupied has left the deepest imprints in Abkhazian history. Fought over since the 9th century BC, Abkhazia has fallen to the Byzantine Empire, Grecian trading ambitions, the Roman Empire, an Arab incursion of the Ottoman Empire, and the communist rule of the Soviet Union. Now Abkhazia exists, between defacto independance and economic annexation, as more of an idea of itself than anything else. It has all the necessary ingredients to prosper and yet it remains a ruin, undefinable; the composite dream of a thousand empires.
Certain US-made war ephemera spotted in Khodory Gorge.
Following the resolve of the Georgian-Abkhazian conflict in 2008, Abkhazia agreed to accept Russian military presence in the region.
Destroyed, Northern end city that was once considered the luxurious, and was reserved as a holiday spot for political celebrities of the Stalinist Era.
Although the conflict between Georgia and Abkhazi was officially resolved in August of 2008, only three countries, Russia, Venezuela and Nicaragua, recognized the Abkhazian elections and sovereignity of Abkhazia.
An Abkhazian theater during the December rehearsals of the christmas play, 12 Months written by a renown Russian children’s book writer, Samuel Marshack.A
“Do you promise that if I die some embarrassing and boring death that you’re gonna tell our daughter that her father was killed by Russian soldiers in this intense hand-to-hand combat in an attempt to save the lives of 850 Chechnen orphans?”
Burt Farlander to his pregnant girlfriend in a 2009 Drama “Away We Go!”
An official during a light bunk search, in Youth Camp “Yunyi Spetsnazovets” Grozny Chechnya.
The camp
Problem children and child-convicts are summoned for a military drill in a camp on a late July afternoon. The humidity and heat on the outskirts of Grozny do not seem to be an obstacle for the 80 boys engaging in a combat drill in the spacious stadium of the Patriotic Military Camp “Yunyi Specinazovets” (Youth Unit of Special Military Services)
The children wear military uniforms, but some march in flip-flops instead of boots. Some look no older than eight; others, distinctly taller, may be as old as seventeen. A commander barks them into formation, tallest first, so they resemble a staircase. Following his prompt, the kids yell the same phrase over and over: “Good health, Senior Lieutenant Major! Good Health, Senior Lieutenant Major!” until he seems satisfied with the unified pitch of the camp’s morale.
Exercise is followed by a dinner. While the boys are in the canteen A young camp official, Movla, gives me a tour of the premises. The rooms are clean and spartanly furnished. Undifferentiated rows of bunks march away from me and there is one towel, with a Disney print from Lady and the Tramp, left to dry up on a stool. There is nothing else in here that indicates the presence of children.
Yuny Specnazovec, or YS, is the first Russian-sponsored youth military-sport camp in Chechnya, an enclave in the North Caucasus recovering from two Russian-Chechen wars. Though it lacks official status, the entire venture is sponsored by Russian taxpayers. It’s referred to as an ‘experiment’ in the local newspaper Grozny Info. As with many other organizations in Chechnya today, the camp is controlled by Chechens hired on a contract basis, and the Russian Military. The locals, who have heard about the camp, jokingly attribute it to part of a larger process referred to as “Chechenalization”.
Background
Although the first in Chechnya, projects like YS are not a new idea for Russia – they are a modern variant of youth camps which mushroomed in Soviet Russia after the October Revolution of 1917. The largest, most prestigious of these, Artek, was founded in June 1925 in Crimea. It was a temporary refuge for children from large, low-income families and orphans. Unlike most other Soviet youth camps, Artek received children throughout the year and was frequently visited by notable foreign and local politicians.
Smaller-scale camps modeled themselves after Artek. After WWII there were as many as ten to fifteen camps in some Soviet republics, usually open during June, July and August. The concept declined throughout the nineties, but revived when Vladimir Putin rose to power at the start of 21st century.
Today, the largest children’s camp in Russia is Nashi. Located on lake Seliger, it is organized, paid for and run by the state. While most camps in the Soviet Union focused on play and activities, Nashi offers progressive, strictly regulated mandatory military training, political history, and other programs along those lines. These draw heavily on the phrasing of recent reforms and blatantly promote the current administration’s political agenda.
Not all young Russians who join the training at Nashi are committed to the values presented to them in the camp. Their motives vary from boredom to calculated attempts at creating a prosperous future for themselves. This last factor is not surprising; those who are attempting to better themselves are open about it. After all, the camp offers generous rewards, often in the form of financial grants for certain types of further education.
Like Аrtek and Nashi, YS does indulge in its share of indoctrination and high praise of the current governing powers. It uses the same spotted-green uniform as the Russian military, the same posters of national heroes adorn the walls – local and national administrators, as well as famous revolutionaries alphabetically arranged around the stadium and outside the barracks.
But while the scouts of Nashi receive visits from Prime Minister Putin and President Dmitry Medevedev, the program in Yuny Specnazovec includes a brief excursion to the bases of the alleged ‘Quick Retaliation Unit’, directly engaged in the liquidation of insurgents.
“This trip definitely toughened the boys,” says the head of the Special investigation unit in Grozny, Ruslan. “We should try to prolong the excursion next season,” he adds.
Ruslan is one of many police officials employed by YS. As the majority of children have previous criminal records, the crowd of different law-enforcement departments is a vital part of the project. Despite the appearance this gives, however, YS is not in any way a jail or punishment. The Russian Ministry of Internal Affairs, which was in charge of preliminary selection, had no difficulty filling the camp with volunteers once they informed parents it was an opportunity for the boys to expunge their criminal records and might lead to a future in the security forces.
“After training here, there is a chance for them to enter a military school, maybe even the Suvorovski Military Academy,” says camp commander and head of selection, Sultan. The Suvorovski Military Academy is the most prestigious in Russia.
“It all depends on their enthusiasm and behavior during the ten-day tryout. If I see a changed person, I can ‘put out a word’ and their criminal record will disappear. These children are either convicts, or come from conflicted families and risk becoming convicts. In their cases, military education can be a great method of crime prevention. It gives them discipline - a top quality characteristic.” He smiles, and displays a fine row of gold crowns.
“What about education in Geography? Biology? Languages? History?”
“From the ten days the boys have spent in the camp, we have proven to our government that they will leave with stronger moral values. This is the most important thing,” responds Sultan.
Incident
A news of some minor incident draws an end to our conversation. Several men and a woman dressed as a police gathered in the Sultan’s office. A boy is then summoned, it’s seems to answer it’s not yet clear for what. He looks a bit older than others, maybe 17, he seem distant and apathetic. He answers tersely, but without hesitation.
“How come you’re here?”
“I was arrested. The ROVD (a special police department for conducting
specific internal investigation) screwed bolts into my fingers until I confessed.” “You don’t like the ROVD? We hate them too,” interrupts one of the senior officers, Timur Tataev. The joke is met with an uproar of laughter from his colleagues.
“What did they want you to confess?”
“Shoplifting.”
“Were you shoplifting?”
“I don’t steal. ”
“Do you know why they wanted to convict you?”
“No.”
“Did you confess?”
“Yes, so that they would leave me alone.”
“What happened then?”
“I was put in jail and ended up here.”
“Do you like it inside the camp?”
“Whatever. Don’t mind.”
“What will you do with the skills you acquire here?”
The question is met with a brief silence.
“Kill Russians.”
The room stops laughing abruptly. The adults are startled by what seems to be an unexpected answer. After ten minutes of whispering and phone calls, the camp officials inform that me what the boy said should not be printed. The boy is sent out of the room before a woman representing the Youth Committee arrives at the camp with a government official, Mr. Isa Hadzimuratov.
“You can’t possibly imagine the circumstances in which your words could end up,” Mr. Hadzimuratov says to me and a colleague journalist. “You know people on the internet will cut and paste anything, to smear the friendship, the peace between Chechnya and Russia.” he adds.
“We’ll give you the freedom to write anything you want, just show it to us first,” he continues, then repeats this sentiment in a number of different ways until our discussion has become a monologue with the occasional nod of agreement from our side.
“One word, one phrase and we lose so much.” We hastily part.
