Teenage-Prisoners
About 20, 000 youths are currently serving time in penal colonies. Surviving
a harsh prison culture
with few rehabilitation programs, many become hardened criminals. In Ardatov,
the local church and
colony are trying to improve the conditions.
Make checks payable to:
Conditions in the Ardatov Colony have deteriorated
Russian Orthodox Church of the Epiphany
furthersince the collapse of the ruble in August,
say"for Teenage Prisoner Fund" on the check
according to email correspondence with the priests
helping the colony. By the end of September,butter
and sugar were no longer available
Mail To:
TEENAGE PRISONER FUND
Russian Orthodox Church of the Epiphany
963 South Street
Roslindale, MA 02131
Story and photos by Natalya Shulyakovskaya
"The Moscow Times," (Saturday) July 4, 1998, pg. 7.
http://www.moscowtimes.ru
The night train from Moscow rolls into Mukhtolovo station at 4:08 a.m.
every morning, stopping for just
two minutes before continuing on amid the misty wooded marshland. From
here it is another 3 kilometer
drive along a bumpy road to Ardatov, a 45 year-old small town in the Volga
region, 175 kilometers south
of Nizhny Novgorod. The tranquil town of 16,000 boasts blue and green
one-story houses with corniced
roofs and windows. Outside their picket fences, dogs sleep and chickens
search for food scraps along dusty
roads. In the town center stands the newly rebuilt Cathedral of Our Lady
of the Sign with its sparkling silver
onion dome. Not far from the church, a gray wall topped with barbed
wire surrounds a series of old brick
and concrete buildings. Green guard posts stand at the four corners of
the compound. Home to 340 boys and
young men, ages ranging from 14 to 20, this is the Ardatov Educational
Colony for Juvenile Offenders. A
facility for youth convicted of theft and robbery, the nearly 55-year-old
Ardatov is one of 61 Russian youth
colonies, which house a total of 21,600 convicted juveniles. On a recent
spring afternoon, most of the
shaven-headed inmates relaxed in the sunny courtyard enclosed by steel
bars, talking and listening to
rock music booming from a cassette player. But the peaceful atmosphere
is only a momentary facade for
the harsh colony life.
Most of the youths are here for several years after committing minor thefts.
Like other youth colonies,
Ardatov has no efficient rehabilitation or job-training programs. Many
of the youth are doomed to become
repeat offenders, spending their lives in and out of prisons. Sexually
transmitted diseases, tuberculosis,
mental illnesses and vitamin deficiencies are widespread. Dwindling funds
have curtailed already spartan
meals. And the youths live amid a reign of terror from a self-imposed caste
system. Alexander Dolgikh, a
senior inspector at the Prosecutor General's Office, rates Ardatov as "a
middle-of-the road colony, perhaps
slightly on the worse end."
But Ardatov is unique in its close cooperation with the local cathedral.
Since 1993, church and prison reform
activists and members of philanthropic organization have been visiting
and surveying the colony, bringing
in food, medicine, clothing and advice. "Our first and foremost problem
is money. We don't get enough
money," says Vasily Pulin, the colony's director.
Konstantin Kravchenko, 20, was released from Ardatov last week after serving
two and a half years of a
three-year term for stealing a dog. Shortly before his release for good
behavior, he explained how he stole
the dog for a friend, a son of alcoholics, who desperately wanted a pet.
One day, the two boys saw another
boy walking a Rottweiler. "I asked him if I could walk the dog for him,
and he let me," Kravchenko said.
"Then we didn't like the dog and returned it." .
But the boy's parents still, pressed charges. "At that time, we hadn't
heard the term 'New Russians',' but
that's what they were. They didn't give a damn about anything," said Kravchenko,
his shaved head covered
with tiny scratches from a dull razor.
Although the numbers of serious crimes, such as murder, assault and robbery,
are rising among youths in
Russia, more than half of incarcerated minors are locked up for theft.
"They are not criminals, at least most
of them are not. Many of them are just abandoned children who steal because
they are hungry," says Alexandra
Chapkovskaya, a regional coordinator for the Moscow Office of the Public
Health Research Institute of New
York, who has visited Aradatov. "Our laws are not flexible. If a boy knocks
a hat off another boy's head, the
law calls it a robbery, and he can get sentenced to five years in prison."
Russia recently revised its criminal and penal code to encourage diverse
sentencing and to improve
conditions of incarceration. But with few social workers, a lack of tradition
of community service and a
dearth of funds and personnel newly approved measures such as alternative
sentencing or different security
level areas within facilities are difficult to implement.
Russia has no separate court system for juveniles, legally defined as those
from ages 12 to 18, and the same
judges oversee cases for adults and youths, often using one standard. "We
need a separate juvenile system,"
says Dolgikh, who until last year was director of juvenile colonies at
the Interior Ministry's Department of
Corrections. "We punish a teenager for running away from the prison as
harshly as we punish an adult,"
he says, citing a case in which a youth was severely sentenced for attempting
escape from a colony shortly
before his scheduled release after a friend challenged him to do so.
According to the Department of Corrections, in 1994, 9.9 percent of all
sentenced juveniles were sent away
for more then five years. In 1997, the number grew to 115 percent. More
than half of all juvenile offenders
receive terms longer than three years. "Why do we need to slap these children
with these huge sentences?"
says Mikhail Rezin, the priest at the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Sign.
Even before arriving at colonies, many youths have already spent nearly
six months in pre-trial detention
centers. Around 13,900 minors are currently in pre-trial incarceration.
Court statistics show that nearly a
quarter of convicted juveniles are charged again as adults. In 1997, almost
40 percent of youths released
from juvenile colonies went straight into adult prisons to continue serving
sentences.
Locked up in large numbers with almost no interaction with adults other
than guards, incarcerated youths
develop their own social order, which is enforced by extremely cruel behavior.
"No adult can comprehend
what they do to each other," says Valery Abramkin, director of the human
rights organization at Moscow
Center for Prison Reform. A former Soviet political prisoner who was in
labor camps from 1979 to 1985,
Abramkin believes that the youths are unable to cope with the stress of
incarceration, and that their
aggression grows out of control. "Juveniles are unstable, not-yet-formed
raw material, play dough."
Dolgikh says, "This is a time bomb."
The Ardatov youths have developed an elaborate caste system. There are
five different levels, topped
by the avtoritet, or the authority, which commands the entire group. Next
come the patsany, or the
cool guys. Two groups comprise the third level, the muhiki, men, and aktivisty,
activists who cooperate
with colony authorities. Further down the rung are the pornoiki, or garbage.
At bottom is the untouchable
caste, the obizhennyc, or the humiliated.
The humiliated are victims of sexual abuse, both before and after their
arrival at the colony. They are
assigned the worst places in living quarters and are not allowed to touch
food, drinks or dishes other than
their own. Other caste members avoid direct physical contact with them
except to sexually molest them.
When beating the untouchables, other caste member use sticks. "You can
always see them with a trained
eye," Abramkin says. "They always sit in the back of a room, dressed in
the worst garb. They are always at
the end of a marching unit." Newcomers to the colony must reveal any experiences
of sexual abuse, at
which point they are relegated to the humiliated caste. If discovered to
have lied, the victims of sexual abuse
are subject to even worse-harassment.
Just one level up, the pomoiki do the dirty work, cleaning toilets and
taking out the garbage. The mid-level
muzhiki or aktivisty comprise the bulk of the youths. The latter help the
colony - administrators organize
and assign duties. The higher castes enjoy the better jobs and avoid abuse
from others. They sometimes
express paternalistic attitudes toward lower members. Kravchenko was a
member of the aktivisty throughout
his incarceration. "It wasn't too difficult to figure it out," he says.
"The kids who get here are mostly young
guys who don't understand much, so you have to look after them."
The system has its elaborate rituals and rules. For example, higher caste
members avoid picking up
anything dropped near a washing area. "No one explains those rules to you.
But if you make mistakes,
you slide gradually down the hierarchy," Chapkovskaya says. An unspoken
rule among the youths bans
them from reporting abuses to authorities. "From the colony's children,
we get no complaints," says
Dmitry Grishanov, an inspector at the Prosecutor General's Office.
Colony administrators have come to rely on the discipline the youths inflict
upon each other. "It's very
comfortable for the administration to rule using this internal hierarchy,"
Chapkovskaya says. "They just
come and ask, 'Hey, why is the floor dirty?' And the floor gets washed.
No one is interested in the fact that
the cost is in bruises, knocking and punching."
Last spring, Rezin, 47, the church's priest, and Yevgeny Panyushkin, 28,
its sexton, tried to ease the life of
the untouchables. They convinced the colony to allow members of the lowest
caste group to stay temporarily
in a separate room in the medical wing with extra food. "During the first
day, they slept. During the second,
they ate. On the third day, they all had diarrhea because they were not
used to the rich food," Rezin recalls.
"But on the fourth day, they started recreating the same caste system among
themselves, and it was brutal."
The untouchables went wild, throwing food at guards who vainly attempted
to calm them down.
The administrators turned to the avtoritet to control and discipline the
youths....
Because of widespread anal sex with the untouchables, sexually transmitted
diseases are common. About
7 percent of the youths have syphilis, and Hepatitis B is spreading according
to a report prepared last year
by an Australian doctor for the Moscow Center for Prison Reform.
Based on an examination of 85 youths,
the report concluded that there were high levels of vitamin deficiencies,
widespread skin ulcers, rashes,
infections and cases of tuberculosis.
The report also noted a large number of mental disorders, such as depression
and other illnesses, some
of which may bo due to the stress of incarceration. According to Pulin
the director at Ardatov about 50 of
the youths suffer from mental retardation or other permanent mental disorders.
Governmental guidelines
say each colony should have three staff psychologists, but few specialists
are willing to work in the rural
areas where colonies are typically located. Ardatov has three psychologists,
but one doubles as the director
of education, and only one has a degree in criminal psychology. Criminal
experts believe that many mentally
disabled youths would not have fallen by the wayside if they had received
adequate medical treatment. As
the country's psychiatric care falters due to lack of funds, the percentage
of mentally disabled incarcerated
youths has been rising. The share of incarcerated juveniles with mental
disorders has increased from 20
percent in 1993 to 28 percent in 1997, according to the Department of Corrections.
Statistics of mental
disabilities among the incarcerated are not always accurate, however, because
some disorders are overlooked
while some authorities quickly classify troubled youths as mentally ill,
Abrarokin estimates that about
one-third of incarcerated juveniles suffer from mental disorders.
The Ardatov youths spend their days in academic classes, trade courses
and working on factory orders.
Historically, the colony has had close ties with several factories building
stoves for the Navashinsky shipyard,
located about 100 kilometers to the south, doing assembly work for the
Kulebaksky radio plant and cutting
metal for the Sapfir military plant. But those plants recently stopped
their orders under economic hardship.
Now, only 50 youths have regular work making gardening tools for a nearby
factory. "The boys used to be
busy all the time," says Konstantin Zaikin, Ardatov's acting deputy director
of education. "Now we have
guys sitting half of the day with no work."
Cooperation with the nearby plants was so strong at the colony that the
trade school taught skills needed
specifically for the factories. Even now, the youths learn metal-cutting
and radio-assembling, as there is
no money to change the equipment and little initiative among administrators
to adjust the changing labor market.
Federal budgets for prisons began declining in 1994. In 1998, the budget
for the entire Russian correctional
system was down 13 percent from the previous year. "It's the worst it has
been so far," says Boris Sushkov,
deputy director of the Department of Corrections. The new austerity program
introduced by Prime
Minister Sergei Kiriyenko threatens to cut prison budgets by 26 percent
more.
Ardatov's allocated federal budget for this year is 8 million rubles ($1.3
million). In 1996, for the first time
in the colony's history, employees did not receive their pay on time. After
a six month delay, the salaries
were paid and are currently disbursed on time.
The dwindling financing is evident in the colony's shabby buildings with
paint chipping off the walls, rusty gates
and a bare cafeteria and medical wing. There is no running hot water. The
youths get hot showers three times a
month, when the colony has enough fuel to fire up the boilers at its banya.
About 25 boys each share dark,
low-ceiling rooms filled with bunk beds. The complex reeks of sweat, shoe
polish and chlorine.
In 1996,the colony couldn't afford even basic food as a result of the budget
cuts and relied on the church
to provide grains and oil. Today, the meals consist mainly of soups, kasha,
bread and occasionally fish.
The colony depends on the church for minimal medical supplies. "Are we
supposed to give them some
sort of fruit ? Bananas, maybe?" nurse Valontina Plekhanova replied sarcastically
when asked how the
youths obtain vitamins. But she quickly calmed down and turned to Panyushkin
with a day-to day matter
"We ran out of bandages, Zhenya."
Rezin and Panyushkm were assigned to the local cathedral in 1992. Around
that time, the leader of the
Russian Orthodox Church, Patriarch Alexy II, and then Interior Minister
Viktor Yerin signed a joint letter
promoting cooperation between the church and penal system. The move was
partly in reaction to the increasing
activism of Western missionaries in Russian prisons.
Although the colony was in need of help, opening its walls to outsiders
was unprecedented, and Rezin had
to coax and cajole Pulin into allowing the church in. The tentative relationship
is still apparent today. "It's
only for our mutual benefit, for yours and for ours," the priest said to
Pulin recently as the director anxiously
prepared for an interview with a journalist.
Panyushkin recalls that when he met the colony youths, "the first thing
we wanted to do was to give them
a good wash." Initially, colony doctor Andrei Shchukin accompanied the
youths to the banya. "Many didn't
know how to take care of themselves. The doctor had to literally point
out dirty spots to them even after they
supposedly washed," Panyushkin says.
The church quickly offered the youths spiritual guidance. "We were baptizing
them in the banya, in cold
water," says Panyushkin, who now holds services daily in a prayer room
that the colony allowed him to
open. "It was freezing. The wind was blowing. It was so cold, their skin
turned bluish." Today, many of the
youths wear small crosses on thin leather chords around their necks.
Ivan Buldov, 15, is a typical Ardatov convert. "I somewhat believe and
somewhat not," he says. "It's nice
there. I don't go because of the envelopes " he says, referring to the
stationary the church sometimes gives
youths who don't have paper to write letters on. "I pray so that God helps
me in the future. To get out,
to become free," says Buldov, who has another year and two months to serve
of his two-year term for
stealing a wallet.
Buldov says he only stole once, in a spontaneous crime. "Well, I went for
a walk with a friend. And there was
this guy ... he was drunk. So we took his wallet," he says without emotion.
Buldov lived in Nizhay Novprod
with his mother, grandmother, stepfather, sister and three brothers. He
lovingly lists their names: "Vovka
comes after me, then Sasha, then Yulya, Yurka."
Like most youths at Ardatov, Buldov has never received a visit from his
family. Many relatives cannot
afford the trip. A one-way ticket to Ardatov from Nizhny Novgorod costs
40 rubles, and family members feel
they cannot visit without some gifts for their incarcerated relatives.
In 1994, after the government formally returned the cathedral to the parish,
Rezin turned to the colony for
help in renovating the dilapidated building. Dozens of youths worked to
remove metal cutting machinery and
demolish the walls and additions that a military factory had placed in
and around the church during the
Soviet period.
When food shortages hit the colony and Rezin appealed for help on Oblaka,
the human rights radio program
geared for prisoners, numerous offers came in, mostly from people struggling
themselves. Supporters
sent old clothing, small money transfers and bottles of sunflower oil.
One woman asked that the colony return
the bottle after it used the oil.
Rezin and Panyushkin struck deals with pharmaceutical companies eager to
get rid of drugs approaching
their expiration dates, and the parish now receives enough medical supplies
to stock not only Ardatov, but other
correctional facilities as well.
Recently, Rezin began gathering money and support for his next project
an educational facility for youths
nearing their release. After conducting a survey, Rezin found that most
of the youths were interested in
becoming car mechanics. Valery Sergeyev, director of the Moscow Office
of Prison Reform International,
estimates that for $10 000, the church could set up a training facility
with classes, a garage and a dormitory
for juveniles approaching their release.
Until such training programs are implemented, the youths will have to find
their own paths after release.
Kravchenko, the young man who stole a dog, has decided that the town of
Ardatov will remain his home for
the near future. He had come to like the solitude he felt in the prayer
room and wanted to help other colony
youths. "Even if eight or 10 people come in, it still feels like you are
alone " he says. After a few days with his
family in Nizhny Novgorod, Kravchenko will return to work with Rezin and
Panyushkin in the church.
"We get so many letters asking for help and advice " Panyushkin says. "Kostya will answer them."
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