My Fellow Prisoners

It Will Come Back to Haunt You

Criminal behaviour in Russia’s labour camps is generally divided into ‘red’ and ‘black’ types. Both rely on a close partnership between the administration and the criminals, each pursuing their own – often entirely self-serving – interests. In the ‘black’ camps it’s usually a question of money from drug dealing, while in the ‘red’ it’s extortion. There are, of course, plenty of exceptions to this rule.

The methods of applying pressure are not stunningly original: beatings of varying degrees of intensity and seriousness. Usually it’s the prisoners themselves who do the beating, tacitly encouraged by the administration. Although the prison employees also like a bit of a ‘workout’ now and then.

To get early conditional release on parole you have to pay, whichever camp you’re in.

The claim that in the black camps it’s the criminal ‘authorities’ who run the show, in opposition to the administration, is no longer true – and hasn’t been for some time. The differences, on the whole, are strictly aesthetic: in the red camps there is a certain outward show of discipline while in the black there are unspoken rules, a prevailing ‘ideology’. And, while the administration is very visible in the red camps, in the black it hides behind the criminal element.

Over the last few years the situation has been gradually changing. ‘Black’ and ‘red’ are giving way to ‘bureaucratic’ criminality, which is the norm throughout the country. As physical violence has decreased, there has been an increasing tide of paperwork, regulations and selective application of the law. In other words the law is still not regarded as ‘gospel’, but at least people aren’t getting crippled so much.

Vyacheslav is a sturdy fellow with fiery red hair, around thirty-five to forty years old. He’s been inside a long time – since 2002. He used to be a member of a vicious local gang but the authorities couldn’t pin any murders on him, so having knocked out most of his teeth they put him away for extortion.

In prison Vyacheslav began to cooperate with the administration, and as a trusted representative he was given the job of handling my ‘adaptation’. The standard procedure for putting a new arrival in his place wasn’t going to work with me, as might be expected – after all, beating wasn’t allowed, I knew the laws better than most, and early release wasn’t exactly likely. So after a couple of days we moved on to having some heart-to-heart conversations.

I’d long ago worked out my own script for these encounters, but it’s very interesting to listen to what a typical ‘red camp’ inmate has to say. His words reveal an unconcealed, genuine hatred for those who have ruined his life – both the criminal fraternity and the authorities.

He’s reluctant to talk much about his past in the camp, but on the whole he’s honest.

‘Did you beat people up?’

‘Well, these days, of course, it’s all “Would you be so kind as to…”, but in the past, yes, I beat people up… How could you refuse? They call you in and say “Go and deal with him.” If you don’t, you know they’ll give you the full treatment in the isolation cell.’

‘Did you enjoy beating people?’

‘Of course I didn’t. I can resolve it without violence but they don’t understand that, they’ll say you’re a wimp. A lot of them, though, do enjoy it. The feeling of power…’

‘And what about later, on the outside? After all, you could bump into someone you’ve done over.’

‘Could do. And it does happen. Not to everyone, of course. When these guys are released they get taken out of the camp in a bread truck, driven straight to the train. But in any case they’ll find them. It’s just that they only start thinking about that a couple of months before they’re let out. They’re thick-headed…’

Vyacheslav lets out a deep sigh, clenching and unclenching his fists with their battered knuckles. The conversation has clearly unsettled him. He’s due out in a year himself…

And I can’t help thinking of the thousands of people who are just like him, though to all appearances they’re ordinary decent servants of the current regime. People who, in ten years’ time at the most, will be grating their teeth and shaking in their boots as they realize that their time is over, and that criminal behaviour will always come back to haunt you in the long run.