YALTA, Ukraine — “Crimea. Russia. Forever” assures Russian President Vladimir Putin, looking down and smiling from dozens of billboards along the highways of the peninsula.
In the meantime, however, cities in winter are flooded with darkness and the annoying roar of generators – the only source of electricity in the long hours of blackouts. As life becomes tougher, the sentiment among locals is shifting towards a mix of heroism and disappointment.
Several months ago it used to be black and white – now the gray part is growing.
Deepening the divide between the most zealous Ukraine and Russia supporters, increasingly difficult conditions foster a new caste – the caste of pragmatic, de-politicized Crimeans who have lost faith in both Ukraine and Russia, and are focused on their own survival instead.
“When the light goes out, life stops,” Alexandra Ivashchenko, a young Yalta resident says.
Hours of blackout vary depending on the city: for Yalta, it is approximately two hours on, two hours off this month.
The absence of a stable schedule makes life highly inconvenient – light, heat, hot water, internet may disappear any minute.
“At first we were scared and lost, but then we bought candles and flashlights and got used to it. We are humans, and humans adapt,” Ivashchenko adds.
Blackouts have started since late November, when power lines connecting the peninsula to the continent were blown up by Ukrainian activists. The contract for electricity supplies from Ukraine has not been renewed for 2016 – with Kyiv and Moscow not able to reach agreement.
Power outages are yet another inconvenience that Crimeans have been facing since the Russian occupation in March 2014.
It adds up to dramatic surge in consumer prices, numerous challenges for local businessmen, complications in communications and travel, limitations on freedom of speech.
Despite the Kremlin’s promises to make Crimea a land of prosperity, key issues – poverty, corruption, public inefficiency, lack of support for small business, just to name a few – remain unresolved.
Most people are afraid to talk without a guarantee of anonymity. The fear of persecution by Russian authorities is real and justified.
But many are also happy to be part of Russia.
“It has been less than two years, you cannot expect a positive change happen overnight,” a pro-Russian pensioner from Yalta says.
He blames the “bandits” in local government. “All local managers remain the same since Ukrainian rule – unprofessional, corrupt, with the only objective to get more land and money for themselves.”
The future will be better under Kremlin rule.
“People are more confident and calm now, feeling affiliated with a great state that everybody in the world has to reckon with,” he said.
Many pro-Russian Crimeans like him remain optimistic and are taking the blackout challenge proudly – viewing it as a reasonable price for the long-awaited reunion with Russia.
Electricity and other supplies should return soon.
Moscow promised to have an additional power line that would provide electricity to Crimea constructed by May, and a bridge that would connect Russia with the peninsula by 2018.
According to the Program for Development of Crimea 2020, more than 600 billion rubles ($7.7 billion) are to be allocated to the peninsula’s development until 2020. Propaganda helps fuel patriotism, assuring the population it has been saved from the Kyiv fascists and the war they would have waged on Crimea, had not Putin intervened.
If pensioners and public sector employees nurture hopes for a prosperous future, concerns of business are growing.
“Russian bureaucratic system is far more complex than what we had under Ukraine. And the problem is that nobody bothers to explain the rules to us; instead, authorities use every pretext to penalize – they have to fill the budget somehow,” said the owner of a tourist agency in Yalta who refused to be identified.
He said large Russian firms are now entering the market, making it harder for the locals to compete.
Tourism, a key sector of Crimean economy, has suffered gravely after the closure of the Ukrainian market and traditional transportation routes.
Zemfira Ablayeva, owner of a clothing store in Simferopol, says she used to partner with Ukrainian factories.
“Business links that worked for years are now broken. It will take so much time to find Russian partners, and I don’t see where to start, and how to stay in business.”
Many complain about the quality of Russian products. Under pressure to cut trade with Ukraine, Crimean businessmen had to replace Ukrainian supplies urgently, with whatever they could find on the Russian market.
Food vendors say they are unhappy with delays in delivery, especially during winter storms.
The only way Russian goods can get to the peninsula is by sea.
Small businesses find it hard to get credit. No large Russian banks have entered the Crimean market, fearing that international sanctions would affect their performance. Those who have are seen as unreliable.
The electricity blackout had a grave impact on business, too – obliging firms to get expensive generators and spend on gasoline. However, companies that managed to get them first made a fortune with their new competitive advantage.
The political situation provides for additional complications.
“I think Crimea will remain a gray zone for long. I do not see any room for improvements in the foreseeable future: isolation means no investment,” the tour agency director says.
Besides, endemic corruption and lack of respect for private property, ever-present in Ukraine, seem to have gotten worse under Russian occupation.
Political debates are painful for locals.
Families and friends are divided.
“I am experiencing a deep cultural shock – it seems that everybody has gone crazy here, failing to distinguish between the politics and the people. You know, I am ethnically Russian, and I love Russia – not the Russia of Putin, but the Russia of (Alexander) Pushkin and (Pyotr) Tchaikovsky. One has to stay sane and see the difference,” says a teacher from Yalta.
Elmira Nagayeva, a Crimean Tatar from Saki and the mother of three, says she is tired of lies. “Politicians are satisfying their ambitions at the expense of ordinary citizens; I have lost faith in all of them,” she explains.
Pro-Ukrainian citizens avoid expressing their opinions out loud, fearing persecution by Russian authorities.
Despite political disagreement and inconveniences, many reject the idea of leaving.
“I do not want to live in this country. But why would I leave my land? I built my career, my house, my family here,” the schoolteacher says.
The occupation has been a particular tragedy for the indigenous people of the peninsula – Crimean Tatars, who had been exiled from their homeland by the Stalin regime in 1944 and allowed to come back half a century later – under the rule of independent Ukraine.
“Whatever happens, I am not going anywhere. This is my land. My family have gone through so much just to come back,” a Crimean Tatar from Simferopol says.
While some supporters of Russia are starting to doubt their initial choice – made in hope that the Russian rule would bring order and major investment, pro-Ukrainian citizens are losing their faith in Kyiv.
They are haunted by the questions: what has Ukraine done to support them? What has it done to prevent or end the occupation?
The trade and power blockade of Crimea is a big step forward, but it was not initiated by the government – rather triggered by its inaction.
Crimean Tatars, 80 percent of whom have supported the measures (according to Tatar leader Mustafa Dzhemilev) give credit for the blockade to activist Lenur Isliamov and not the government.
“Kyiv should have cut off electricity from the start. One cannot steal somebody’s car and complain about its legitimate owner not paying for gasoline,” the Yalta schoolteacher says.
Her family saw the future and bought a generator the day after the phony March 2014 referendum took place.
But others say that only ordinary people suffer under blockades and blackouts.
“Why nobody thinks about the ordinary people?” a tourist guide from Yalta says. “I could not care less about the wording of that contract, I just want to live like a human, with dignity. Kyiv had not been able to protect us in the first place, and on top of that they are trying to strangle us now.”
Pro-Ukrainian Crimeans voice concerns over numerous obstructions for travel: flights and direct trains to Crimea have been canceled, cars with Crimean license plates are banned from entering continental Ukraine. To get to Kyiv, Crimeans have to ride costly buses operated by private firms working in the shadows. Failure to ensure order at the Crimean border is another source of disappointment – Ukrainian border guards and activists often behave unprofessionally, extorting bribes or simply being unhelpful.
For those who support Ukraine, absence of Crimean strategy on Kyiv’s part is a betrayal.
“Clearly, using force is not an option at the moment; but Ukraine should employ soft power tools. Besides, what would Ukraine do if Crimea were suddenly de-occupied? Kyiv has to have an action plan, and we need to know what it is,” the tour operator says.
He adds that the government should not isolate Ukrainian Crimeans, or limit their rights, as it is now. If Ukraine wants to retain support of loyal Crimeans, it should make clear that it remembers them, respects them and wants them back.
