John Ramwell

A VISIT TO A RUSSIAN PRISON, AUGUST 1992.

Re-written for the RPGA Newsletter, 2022.

Back in 1992, I led a six week expedition to Arctic Russia, part of the Commonwealth of Independent States. The purpose was to provide the opportunity for British youngsters (age 17-18) to experience six weeks of living together in the outdoors whilst taking part in activities including kayaking, trekking and diving whilst undertaking a comprehensive programme of scientific research.

Tempting as it is to tell you of the adventures of the expedition, this account is of my visit to a prison in the vicinity of our expedition area, the north-west corner of the White Sea known as Kandalaksha Bay, part of the Murmansk Region.

The expedition had virtually finished and we’d agreed to meet the local press in order to provide a briefing and to thank all those locals who’d helped us enjoy a very successful experience. Not that we were likely to tell the press anything they were not already fully aware of.

Russia, even back in the 1900s, was the most ‘surveillanced’ country in the world. Not only did this surveillance come at a huge economic cost, it also came at a high emotional one in that it caused most to be suspicious of each other, including close family, to a paranoid extent. Having said this there was a general acceptance that such control and surveillance was an advantage in that it maintained good social order. Despite this we found the Russian people to be friendly, generous and kind.

To this day, 30 years on, I’m in touch with Russian friends made during this expedition and I’m aware of similar friendships enjoyed by other members. Of course we have to remain very purposefully neutral when communicating as we remain well aware of repercussions for what the Russian authorities might consider less than absolutely patriotic as Putin currently (2022) pursues his ‘special military action’ in Ukraine. I’m convinced that it is thanks to a hiatus in Russian Government under Boris, - no, not our Boris, but Boris Yeltsin, that we’re able to utilise this period to effect our BSES Expedition. We were, in hindsight, so fortunate.

Returning to our meeting with the local press. 'And what do you do for a living?' they wanted to know. I told them I was a civil servant but they weren't satisfied. 'I am a manager'. 'What do you manage?'. So I told them. 'I'm a manager in the English Prison Service'. Well, this seemed to grab their attention and I went on to tell them a little about the sort of work I did. How much of this ever got published I'll never know as the reports appeared in the papers after we had left.

One of the reporters seemed to be quite influential and, on the grounds 'nothing ventured, nothing gained', I asked about a visit to a local prison. I fully expected to be ignored, at best given a polite refusal. After all, we were in the heartland of Gulag country. The Solivetsky Island in the White Sea, a little south of us, was used as a Penal Island until only recently. Earlier I had visited the Monastery on this Island and saw at first hand the results of Stalin's mania. Thousands from this prison alone had died of overwork and starvation whilst building the Belomorsk Canal linking the White Sea with the Baltic. Until very recently the whole area north of St Petersburg was difficult to access and Kandalaksha was a restricted area in terms of egress as well as access.

A few hours after our press briefing I received a note. “Be at the Town Hall the next day at 2 o'clock,” it said.

I tried to tidy myself up a bit. Dug down to the bottom of my rucksack and found a clean shirt, borrowed a tie and spat on my shoes and turned up promptly. I was met by an 'official' interpreter (for reasons which escape me I was not invited to bring my own) and the driver of a big black Lada, fairly new at that, in total contrast to the relics that cling to life as they are driven at breakneck speeds over roads riddled with potholes.

We sped out of town, at great speed, they seem to 'aim and fire' rather than drive. Policemen at a control point leapt to attention as our official car passed. An hour later and we drove through a small village before reaching the prison. We entered through an arch which opened onto a courtyard. In front was the entrance to the prison itself, to the left some low rather decrepit-looking buildings. We pulled up outside this building and were met by some rather stern-looking soldiers who were clearly expecting us. We were ushered into the Commandant's office. He was also in military uniform. We sat down after the handshakes. By now I wasn't sure whether this visit was such a good idea anyway. I was somewhat nervous.

But I needn't have worried. The Commandant turned out to be as friendly and reassuring as one's favourite uncle. It so happened that he was being visited by his 'Area Manager' from Murmansk and he sat, looking very stern, by the Commandant's side. Later I found him to be equally friendly.

Tea was brought and I was invited to ask questions. I didn't take notes at the time, they may have become suspicious; but I did write up my visit in some detail later the same day.

Soon it became clear why I had been given the OK to make this visit; they had absolutely nothing to hide. There was no evidence (apart from which there hadn't been time) that any special arrangements had been made. I believe I saw everything at 'face value'. I visited the prison, there I saw the living accommodation, a workshop, exercise facilities and the hospital. I was allowed to chat with prisoners. They were well-fed, polite and communicative. Yes, the staff treated them well. Well, of course they would say that, but I spoke to a couple out of the presence of all but the interpreter and I believed them. Confirmation came when the Commandant was seen to be clearly approachable by the inmates. Staff too were confident in his presence. I later learnt he had previously been in charge of a children's home in Estonia.

I asked about security. There had only been one escape in the last two years. Previous to this, the prison had been closed for two years. I think that originally the prison had been a 'political prison' but I did not press enquiries about this. There is a degree of sensitivity about the past. Incidentally, our escaped prisoner had soon been recaptured.

Security was very much in line with a closed low category prison. There was electronic locking at the gate complex. I understood that prisoners were 'shipped out' for bad behaviour including escape attempts and that alternatives to this particular prison were not good!

A good gauge of any prison service is the level of medical services offers. I was not disappointed. A clean and functional hospital that was well staffed. Apparently staffing is not yet a problem, apart from which, when I asked about 'local trades union agreements' they did not understand the question! The dentist's drill reminded me of 30 years ago when we also used cord-driven drills. With a gross shortage of drugs, analgesics are rare and the patient in the chair was not comfortable!

I was told that the provision of medical care exceeds that in the community. Local hospitals are used for the occasional prisoner in-patient, including Murmansk Hospital for serious cases which is over 600 miles away.

What about the regime? Prisoners could work day shifts or night shifts. The day started at 0900 and ended at 1600 hours while the night shift started at 1600 hours and ended at 0100 hours. They do not change shifts. In return for work the prisoners received a salary. Some of their earnings went to family, some they could spend on a few basics and the rest was returned to the prison authorities for their upkeep. The bulk of the work was building; the whole prison had been rebuilt over the past two years by prisoners. The construction work did not bear close scrutiny, but then neither did any other building erected over the past 70 years whether it was in or out of prison.

No work, no salary. This is not because prisoners decline to work. They don't get the choice. If no work is available they simply do not get any pay, and consequently neither do their relatives. As there is no state allowance when the 'bread winner' is in prison, this can be tough.

Exercise and association is on offer and the prisoners are currently building their gymnasium.

Religious Services? - well, again they didn't understand the question! Things are changing, though. On the day of my visit a group of Hymn Singers from Finland arrived to entertain.

The Russians allow conjugal visits. I had previously read that this was the case. Three-day visits. Apparently there were few if any criteria to be satisfied before these visits were allowed. Other visits were allowed but only up to six per year. These visiting arrangements seemed to be designed to cause the greatest amount of frustration but my Russian friends did not agree.

The prison houses 500 prisoners and serves the whole north-west of Russia. The prisoners are all male and are aged 18 and upwards. They were all clothed well - grey trousers and thick blue anorak-style jackets. I saw the 4 pm labour parade. It was not terribly military at all - very relaxed, in fact.

Though, like all buildings in Russia, there was a run-down, neglected appearance, there appeared to be order and basically the interiors were clean and reasonable well maintained. I asked about staff. Are they all military? Yes, but are permanently assigned to the prison service where most will make their career. It is not well paid work and it is difficult to find sufficient recruits. I asked about staff reliability, staff morale and staff training. I was re-assured by positive responses.

In short, I was truly impressed as I was not expecting such a positive visit. They were open and made no attempt, as far as I could tell, to ‘shelter’ me from any adverse factors.

Of course they have problems and, in predictable Russian fashion, they weren’t going to share anything but the trivial with me.

On the face of it, I could have been in any Western European low category prison.

The Commandant and his visiting boss were keen to learn about the British Prison Service. I told them all I could. 'We share many problems, that is why we both have grey hair' laughed the Commandant. His boss did not share the joke!