When I arrive in Slovyansk, I notice that a slight change has entered its usually monotonous life. The entrance to the City Council building is surrounded by sandbag barricades. A few “greens” are wandering around. Next to them a banner is hanging: “Popular Mobilization of Donbas.” The Ukrainian flag has disappeared from the edifice, replaced by the Russian. Only the flag of the Donetsk Region has stayed in place: a rising sun symbolizing Eastern Ukraine, black water standing for coal, and the Azov Sea in which sunbeams are reflected.
Barricades of sand, tires, and wood appeared on the nearby streets. Banners were hung on them: “Junta, get lost,” “Power to the people” and “We are against fascist occupation of Donbas.” The barricades were placed at the police station, the Security Service of Ukraine building on Marx Street where “greens” had their headquarters, and around the city. At each barricade people coming and going had their documents and car trunks checked.
“Chechen, the journalists have arrived!” a masked man at one of the checkpoints is shouting. He is calling the people who are standing on the side of the bridge. “Chechen” is approaching the car I’m in with two other media employees.
“Poland? You are our enemies,” says Chechen adjusting his rifle. After this not so nice introduction he lets us go free.
A group of residents has gathered at the nearby playground near the City Council. They are listening to the conversations between the journalists and the “volunteers,” trying to comprehend what is happening here. Armored personnel carriers with Russian flags arouse their confidence and admiration.
“Sir, could you pick up my kid? We’ll take a picture,” the child’s mother asks a guy in a balaclava holding a grenade launcher. He is sitting on one of the vehicles. He lifts the boy up, puts him on the carrier, and takes his hand. Somewhere else a “green” gives a rifle to a kid and they both pose for a picture, smiling.
You may get the impression that for the residents the separatists are some kind of traveling circus that has stopped in their city today. The separatists themselves help to create such an image: in the parking lot behind the City Council they are racing like crazy in their APCs. This show has attracted the most attention among the residents. Finally, one of the vehicles breaks down and the spectators leave the lot.
“We thank you boys!” says an elderly woman with tears in her eyes, when she sees the Russian flag. After posing for pictures, a few snapshots, and some chatting, people can go back to their daily routines. Although some people have gone home, social life in October Revolution Square is thriving. Every now and then somebody drinks beer from a large plastic bottle. Children are having fun on the playground. People are conversing as in the past, only the subject has changed. Now all of them are talking about the war. However, it is not clear who is fighting whom. With time—thanks to the Russian media—the narrative about a civil war will prevail. Donbas is fighting the rest of Ukraine.
On April 13 Afghanistan war veteran Vyacheslav Ponomarev informed the people who gathered on October Revolution Square that Slovyansk mayor Neli Shtepa had fled. That is why he decided to make the city his responsibility and proclaimed himself the “people’s mayor.” Soon it is clear that Shtepa didn’t go too far. She was arrested by the new “authorities.” Ponomarev claims there was no arrest, and that he simply offered Shtepa his “protection.” On April 15 the Ukrainian government initiated proceedings against Mayor Shtepa for supporting the separatists during their first attacks on the state buildings. Supposedly, the separatists stole twenty automatic rifles and four hundred pistols from the police station. At that time Shtepa was arguing that it had been local “volunteers” who did the raid.
“These are not some newcomers from Western Ukraine, but our own Donetsk boys,” she was telling the crowd gathered in front of the police station. She was also in support of the referendum on the independence of the two Donbas republics.
In an interview for Rossiyskaya Gazieta meaningfully entitled “Obama, you should shut up,” Ponomarev explained Shtepa’s arrest in his characteristic style. “We decided to protect her, so she wouldn’t be kidnapped. However, her house is outside the city and we can’t leave our people there. So it was simpler to bring her here. She has good conditions—a toilet and shower. A hairdresser visits her and she is fed by her family. She has warm clothing. Everything is OK.” The problem with Ponomarev’s hospitality is that you can’t decline these “good conditions.” Even to take a short walk.
With time, the number of such “guests” will grow. A week after Shtepa’s arrest a journalist from Vice News, Simon Ostrovsky, was detained.
“This is not journalism,” Ponomarev was scolding Ostrovsky’s colleagues, when at the press conference they asked him about his whereabouts. Ponomarev’s press secretary, Stella Khorosheva, accused Ostrovsky of spying for Right Sector. In the interview mentioned above, Ponomarev explained the case more bluntly: “We need hostages. We need a bargaining card, you understand.” Ostrovsky was released after four days. A day earlier the US State Department asked Russia to pressure the separatists and help free an American citizen. However, there was no information on whether the journalist was swapped with somebody or released without a “trade.”
In the course of many interviews the Vice News reporter affirmed that he had been beaten, his eyes covered and his hands tied. Later on, he was able to move freely in the areas where he was held. He seems to have seen other detainees there. Some were released quickly, others had to stay longer. Ostrovsky spent only four days at Ponomarev’s, but there were people who stayed there for several weeks. Unfortunately, they couldn’t count on such attention from the foreign journalists. The priority for these journalists was Ostrovsky. About the others only individual persons were sporadically asking timid questions.
The number of arrested quickly reached double digits. At the end of April the Ukrainian side issued a statement that in Slovyansk itself there were about forty hostages. At the press conferences, the “people’s mayor” replied that they had quite a lot of hostages. Ponomarev regularly “invited” journalists, either for a short talk or for hours. Occasionally, they were searched. Their equipment was returned, but bulletproof vests and helmets—not always. In the majority of cases it was all about threats. After one conversation of this kind, an American journalist left at once and she wanted never to come back to the city. “I am persona non grata there,” she wrote from Kiev on Facebook.
On April 21 the media received information that three foreign journalists from Italy and Belarus were detained in Slovyansk. Although they were soon released, the authorities in Slovyansk decided to grab the opportunity.
“Give us your passports. We have to register you, so we will know that you have really been here. Otherwise, we won’t be able to help if somebody disappears,” says Khorosheva to a group of journalists. You can’t attend a press conference without registration, so you lose the only chance to talk to the self-proclaimed authorities.
As it very soon turned out, this was not about security. “We will check what you publish. We are observing the foreign media and we have come to the conclusion that many of you are lying. We are warning you. Those who will keep doing this will be forced to leave the city. That’s why we have written down your information and we will check up on you,” announces city counselor Viera Kubrechenko. Then she picked up a box and walked around the room to collect money from the journalists for the families of victims fighting the “Kiev junta.”