«You need to adapt to survive»: The lives of Crimeans that decided to stay

This material was prepared as part of the «How We Will Get Crimea Back» project — an initiative of Ukrainian journalists from Crimea. It’s goal is to find instruments and solutions for the de-occupation and reintegration of the peninsula.

Ekaterina Sergatskova

When anti-Euromaidan protests broke out in Crimea and the annexation of the Ukrainian peninsula began, Liza was expecting a child and barely left the house. Pro-Ukraine rallies were happening near her house. Crimean «self-defence» forces were also nearby, chasing down and beating up pro-Ukrainian activists.

When her daughter was born, she received two birth certificates — one Ukrainian and one Russian. Liza was frightened and had no desire to stay in occupied Crimea, so her family started looking at alternative options.

«We began to travel to different countries,» says Liza. «We went to Spain, the States, looked at places where we could live and stay. But we realised that we could not find anything better than Crimea. After all, everything here is familiar and easy, we have our own activities, friends, and family. And by then, time had passed and it became clear that (Crimea would be annexed) for a long time and it was no longer dangerous here.»

The final decision was made in 2016. By then, Crimea had completely switched to Russian documentation and laws, and everyone who could no longer stay on the peninsula left. Despite international sanctions, Russia started to invest a lot of money into the peninsula, creating an illusion among Crimeans that the annexation did not bring any problems, unlike in occupied Donbas, where hostilities continue and the quality of life declines.

Liza represents a category of people who did not support the Russian invasion but remained in Crimea. She is a freelance designer and contact improvisation trainer and is used to working for herself without being tied to the office. Before the annexation, she was also a freelancer and did not see any career prospects in Crimea.

«Even before 2014, I chose to stay in Crimea rather than travel to Moscow or Kyiv to work,» she explains. «But if before there were at least a couple of design studios, now there are none. Most of the IT sector has moved. The professional vacuum has only worsened, but everyone has adapted.»

Svitlana Havrylenko, a local artist, echoes these sentiments. For the past few years, she has been living in Yalta and giving private lessons and masterclasses in painting. During the annexation, she worked as a fixer for foreign journalists who came to cover the Russian invasion of the peninsula.

«By the summer (of 2014), it became clear that all this was serious and not just for five minutes,» she recalls. «And there was a vivid feeling that now all this — the city, the trees, everything that you are used to — is no longer yours. That moment of change, of accepting the situation, happened when I decided not to leave and built my own internal boundaries.»

For Svitlana, the ability to leave Crimea is crucial though. She was afraid that the situation would be similar to Abkhazia or Donbas when internal documents are not valid anywhere except Russia and you need to obtain permission in order to leave the territory. It was around 2016 that the artist finally realised she would be staying.

«Most of those who left were those who even before the annexation doubted whether it was worth staying in Crimea after all,» she explains. «Since I decided to stay, it means that I need to somehow interact with this world. You either move or accept the conditions of the game, and if you put yourself against the system, then only you will lose — the system does not care.»

Crimean Tatar Refat, who asked to be identified by his first name only for his safety, actively opposed the Russian invasion, helped the Ukrainian military when they were blocked in military units, and conveyed information about what was happening on the peninsula to Ukrainian journalists. He moonlighted as a driver and traded spare parts. Until late 2014, he claimed that he would never acquire Russian citizenship and would not play according to Russian rules. But in 2015 he received a Russian passport, re-registered the car, and became an individual entrepreneur in the Russian system.

«It’s already difficult for us to live in Crimea under occupation, and (the Russian authorities) created these formalities to get us out of here,» Refat says. «Sooner or later, you realise that you need to adapt in order to survive.»

During the first years of occupation, hundreds of criminal cases were opened against citizens who, in one way or another, opposed Russia. First, filmmaker Oleg Sentsov was jailed. Then, during 2014 and 2015, they actively began to arrest Crimean Tatars.

Officials claimed this was because they belonged to the Islamic movement «Hizb ut-Tahrir» — which has been banned in Russia — but in reality, it was because Crimean Tatars actively opposed Russia during the annexation and tried to undermine the March 16 referendum.

Many of them are still in prison as arrests of Crimean Tatars continue on the peninsula. The remaining pro-Ukrainian Crimeans watched this with concern but realised that they could not influence the situation. They became used to it.

«A lot of our friends have left, and our social circle narrowed,» says Liza. «But new people began to arrive. Sometimes those who left after the annexation return to Crimea, which they have not seen for a long time, and say: ‘wow, life goes on here.' It’s as if many had been frozen in those wartime feelings, from a politically and emotionally difficult state, and expected to see (devastation) here. But no, people are living their lives, roads are being repaired, and there aren’t even Russian flags on the streets.»

Svitlana says that over the years living under conditions created by the annexation, society has developed its own «Crimean ethics».

«There are ‘vatniks' (followers of Russian-state propaganda — ed.) among my friends, and we get along well,» she says. «We may have different political views, but the basic values ​​are the same. We live here and want to live normally — that’s enough to accept each other.»

Liza, Svitlana, and Refat all say that the longer they stay in Crimea, the less they understand and know what’s happening outside the peninsula. At the same time, they say those on mainland Ukraine have a progressively more distorted view of what’s happening on the peninsula. But that doesn’t seem to concern Crimeans. It’s becoming apparent that Crimea is turning into an island.