Russian LGBT Activists Describe Victimisation, Repression and Hope
Russian LGBT activists describe victimisation, repression … and hope
Group of 10 activists depict dark times for LGBT rights in Russia, as they visit London for workshops and training with Stonewall
Gay rights activists release balloons as they take part in a rally in St Petersburg. Photograph: Olga Maltseva/AFP/Getty Images
Alexandra Topping
Monday 6 April 2015 08.31 EDT Last modified on Monday 6 April 2015 19.07 EDT
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London stretches out below the window of the Stonewall meeting room on the 13th floor of a Waterloo tower block, and a group of 10 Russian human rights defenders admire the view. “London is the capital of Great Britain,” says Sergei Alekseenko, the director of the Maximum LGBT organisation, dusting off his high school English with a smile. He adds, in Russian: “It’s good to be here.”
The 10 activists are here to mine the experience of the UK’s largest LGBT rights organisation, which since it was founded in 1989 has seen the introduction of legislation allowing gay couples to adopt and the introduction of gay marriage, and to see if lessons learned in Britain can help combat an ever more repressive situation in their home country.
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These are dark times for human rights activists in Russia, and particularly those advocating for the LGBT community. A series of laws, including the requirement for NGOs receiving international funding to register as “foreign agents” in 2012 and a ban on gay “propoganda” the following year, have left organisations facing hefty fines and increasing marginalisation. A pervasive tone of homophobia has emboldened violent vigilantes.
“Of course people are scared,” says Alekseenko, his arms folded across his chest. “Three or four years ago there were radical individuals, but now they form groups. They makes threats on social media, they publish details of activists, of their families, they threaten physical violence. Only a stupid person would not be afraid.”
Thanks to private donors Stonewall has welcomed the activists to its London hub for a week of workshops and training on subjects from security to influencing power and media skills. Founded by a small group of activists fighting for the repeal of section 28 of the 1998 Local Government Act, which, like Russia’s 2013 law, aimed to prevent the “promotion” of homosexuality in schools, they hope they have something to give.
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Russian activists take part in a workshop at Stonewall’s London offices. Photograph: Martin Godwin for the Guardian
The previous day was spent learning about media strategies, and being given tips by a former ITN news journalist on how to look, stand and sound when giving interviews to camera. By the end of the week, Stonewall’s Russian guests were learning what makes a good campaign ; the importance of using evidence, targets and goals; and ways of winning powerful allies. “It’s really a big opportunity for us to get knowledge that is difficult to get in Russia,” said Olesya Yakovenko of the Russian LGBT Network.
“It’s about giving them skills and confidence, something concrete. It’s about them hearing our experiences, including those things we got wrong,” says Caroline Ellis, a senior director at Stonewall. “We know that not everything will necessarily translate, so we’re here to learn too.”
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By being in London, and agreeing to speak to the Guardian, the Russian activists know they are taking a significant risk, but they want their voices to be heard.
Having any kind of a voice is increasingly difficult, says Tatiana Vinnichenko, the chair of the Russian LGBT Network and director of the Arkhangelsk-based organisation Rakurs, which has been forced to register under Russia’s “foreign agents” law.
“It used to be much easier,” she says, proudly wearing a new T-shirt with the slogan “Some girls marry girls. Get over it”. “In the past, people thought they could make things better, things could improve. Now people are tired of fighting and getting nowhere.”
The activists tell stories of their organisations being investigated, of constantly moving goalposts, of being watched. One organisation was deemed to be engaging in political activity for having LGBT books, and an activist who is also a teacher, is in under investigation to ensure she is not promoting homosexuality.
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Protesters take part in a London rally against Russia’s gay ‘propaganda’ law in 2103. Photograph: Rex Features
Dissent has also become an expensive business, says Anna Annenkova, from the Side by Side international film festival, which was fined 400,000 roubles (£4,700) in June 2014 after being named as a “foreign agent”.
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“The first impact is of course financial, it is a huge effort to pay these fines, but the second is cultural,” Annenkova says. “To people in Russia ‘foreign agent’ means a spy, someone who wants to destroy the country. It’s really negative publicity.”
The ability to demonstrate has also been heavily curtailed, she adds. In the past protesting could carry a 500 rouble fine, now anyone holding a placard can face a penalty of 30,000 roubles, a good month’s salary.
The activists all fear the growing intolerance in Russian society, citing the case of Vladislav Tornovoi, a young gay man killed in a homophobic hate crime in Volgograd in May 2013. According to the investigation, he was raped with beer bottles and set on fire; a rock was brought down repeatedly on his head until he was dead.
Three men were later quietly tried and convicted with long jail sentences, but reaction to the murder from some was congratulatory.
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From left to right, Anna Annenkova, Olesya Yakovenko, Tatiana Vinnichenko, Nika Yuryeva and Sergei Alekseenko. Photograph: Martin Godwin for the Guardian
Anton Krasovsky, the former editor-in-chief of pro-Kremlin cable channel Kontr TV until he came out as gay on air, after which he was fired and the channel closed, wrote in the Guardian that news reports of the murder were followed with comments such as: “Putin did warn us that if the homos raise their heads, the Russian people will take up arms. One head has rolled.”” He added: “How did it come about that today in Russia a good gay person is a dead gay person?”
Homosexuality is not illegal in Russia. It was decriminalised in 1993 and removed from the list of mental illnesses in 1999. Since the passing of the homosexual “propaganda” law, however, there has been a hardening of public opinion. Polls suggest 68% of the public support the legislation.
A 2013 survey by the Pew Research Centre revealed that 74% of Russians believed homosexually should not be accepted, compared with 60% in 2002.
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“Young people are the worst affected,” says Nika Yuryeva, of Coming Out LGBT group, which has been fighting attempts to classify it as a “foreign agent” since March 2013. “There is much more aggression among young people, much more hate crime. It’s noticeable to everyone that the last 18 months have got much worse.”
Activists fear further crackdowns may be in the pipeline. A draft law banning “undesirable foreign organisations”, which the Duma passed after a first reading in January, could ban any international organisation that “poses a threat to the defence capacity and security of the state or to public order, or to public health”.
The human rights activists holed up at Stonewall fear the laws that legalised homosexuality in the 1990s could be under threat. The Kremlin increasingly portrays human rights as a western imposition, arguing that homophobic laws are a defence of local culture and values against western imperialism. “Propaganda works,” says Vinnichenko. “They only have to put out homophobic material and people themselves will beg Putin to change the law.”
Is there anything to be hopeful about? At the very least, a backs-to-the-wall mentality has brought activists together, says Vinnichenko. “Other NGOs have taken the LGBT movement onboard,” she says. “And if LGBT leaders in the past were in competition they now feel a certain responsibility, they know they have to work together.”
Some people have left the movement, but new volunteers are highly motivated. Olesya Yakovenko, who joined the Russian LGBT Network after the new laws were passed, says: “Until then we read poems, it was very gentle, but as soon as the laws came into power, we had to rethink our strategy.”
After sharing stories of victimisation, fear and repression, the activists give a perhaps surprising response when asked about the future. Asked to raise their hands if they think things will get better for LGBT people in Russia in the next five years, three of them raise an arm. Among them is Sergei Alekseenko. “We have to have hope,” he says. “Otherwise how can you be an activist, if you have no optimism that things will get better?”