A Step to the Right: Two Weeks with Right Sector, Jan-February 2014
Translation. Inside look at the rightwing paramilitary that played such a mysterious and crucial role in Euromaidan. Ukrainian nationalists in the Chechen war. Race war music
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Text: Igor Burdyga Photos: Maxim Dondyuk for ‘Reporter’ at the Vesti site.
Vesti was a Ukrainian news outlet which supported Ukraine’s non-alignment, for which it was constantly attacked by maidanites. You can read more about Vesti and constant attacks on it here.
Interesting things to focus on in this section:
Tension between the more radical Right Sector and less battle-ready Maidan protestors (the Maidan Self-Defense)
Constant military drills, and the presence of UNA-UNSO (Ukrainian National Assembly – Ukrainian People's Self-Defence) fighters, who had been hardened by fighting in real wars in Chechnya, Georgia, Moldova, Yugoslavia, and Azerbaijan, mostly fought against Russia and its allies (with the exception of Moldova). The UNA-UNSO was one of the hard rightwing groups which merged to create Right Sector in late 2013/early 2014.
The conflict between UNA-UNSO veterans and Ukrainian policemen. Many of the latter identified with their Russian colleagues. Right Sector, as with all Ukrainian (and, at the time, Russian) rightwing nationalists, was characterized by a strong hatred of police, itself also linked with their origins in the football hooligan movement.
The role played by nationalist music and cultural figures
Original version of the following text here.
"Death to the thieves!" - reads the inscription above the entrance to the fifth floor of the Trade Union House.
"Death to the enemy!" - is written in black marker on my green army helmet.
"Death to the thieves!" - we shout in chorus several times a day in response to the dutiful"Glory to the Nation!".
We are Right Sector
Your name is Field Operator
Joining Right Sector turned out to be much easier than I had imagined. On February 1, a couple of weeks after the first clashes on Hrushevskyi street, I changed my hairstyle, said goodbye to my beard, put on simpler clothes and approached the Right Sector tent on Maidan Nezalezhnosti.
- You can sign in on the fifth floor. Ask the guards to show you in," a young sentry advised good-naturedly, warming himself by a makeshift stove made of two metal barrels.
The strict security of the House of Trade Unions is also oriented towards new recruits.
- Let's go, let's go, reinforcements," a man in his 40s volunteered to show me the way. - And why did you join the right-wing and not the Maidan Self-Defense [the main Maidan paramilitary force, which was less ideologically charged and more civilian than gruops like Right Sector]?
The short incline allows me to avoid answering the question. However, I will be asked it several more times today.
- More recruits? - now the fifth-floor sentry is surprised. - Guys, look: they're rushing and rushing. Catch up along the corridor, there's the kid who came in before you, he went for an interview.
The "interview" is conducted by a tall young guy, looking about 25 - as it turns out later, one of the senior commanders of the RS. Black pants, camouflage jacket, long Cossack greaves sticking out from under a twisted balaclava.
- Why did you decide to join the Right Sector? - he asks the main question, without asking for documents or even names.
- After the outrage that took place on Hrushevskyi, I consider you the only organization capable of protecting Maidan in the fight against the regime. I want to help in this," I answer him with a phrase I learned at home. The boy who came with me says something about Cossack traditions and national pride. The commander is obviously satisfied with our answers.
- I must warn you that you are joining a militant organization. For your actions, you may have to deal with law enforcement agencies, you may have to answer to the court, you may face deprivation of liberty, health and even life," he says, apparently having already repeated the disclaimer more than once, showing his bandaged hand to convince: - I was hit by a shrapnel on Hrushevskyi.
We are asked about special skills and abilities. Translators and programmers are badly needed - the RS is getting ready to "go public". I, on the other hand, want to learn about the life of ordinary soldiers, so I don't want to take on "connected" positions - I present myself as a simple supermarket worker from Kherson.
- Martial arts, firearms?
- I shoot with a hunting rifle, but no gun or permit.
- That's good.
- What, you got something to shoot with? I thought the cops had guns.
- If we need it, we'll have it," the commander says darkly.
Having sorted out the skills, he directs us to one of the squads (to the right down the corridor, the third door on the other side). There we are met by the squad leader - even younger than the previous one.
- Radical (names and pseudonyms of all characters, except public personas, have been changed. - "Reporter")," he introduces himself. - Make up your own call sign.
From now on, my name is Field Operator. Radikal writes down my "real" name, which I made up on the fly, my age, and my contact information in a notebook, promising to destroy it at the first sign of trouble.
- Welcome to Right Sector, fighters!
It took us a little over an hour to check in. It was nearing nightfall, and I went to a friend's house to get my things, promising to come back in the morning to finalize the cantonment. The boy who came with me asks for permission to spend the night at home.
- And I have a birthday party to go to today. I just turned 18. Joining the Right Sector was the main present, they didn't take me until I turned 18.
- All right, you're cleared to leave the unit. Tomorrow you'll get your passes, no entry to the fifth floor without them.
Pioneer camp for overgrown kids
- Right Sector, wake up!!! - the loud shout of the floor watchman is much better than an alarm clock. - Wake up!!! Wake up!!!
The fifth floor gets up at eight in the morning. The squad leaders come to the aid of the duty officer, not hesitating to wake up the soldiers sleeping in the corridor with light kicks. It takes about ten minutes to assemble a simple bed (mine is a camping mat and a sleeping bag), wash up, drink coffee. Then the formation and morning exercise - "ruhanka".
I have been in the Right Sector for a few days now. Our "Zasika" squad is housed in a twin office of the Federation of Trade Unions and its environs. The smaller room has been occupied by a cold-stricken Radikal for a week now, and the larger one by several fighters. For the first couple of days, I tried to hang out there too, for fear of being seen by my former colleague and current RS press secretary Artem Skoropadsky, so that he wouldn't recognize me and betray me. But there is not enough space, so I had to move to the corridor.
"Movings" - a set of exercises consisting of jogging to European Square and back and simple gymnastics near the Right Sector tent (at the bottom of the stairs leading to the October Palace). Tolerable even for me, a guy who is not particularly athletic. Besides charging during the day, there are usually two training sessions: hand-to-hand combat and maneuvers with heavy shields. That's basically all I have to worry about on a peaceful day.
There are also regular duties: internal - at the entrance to the fifth floor, near the elevator and near the headquarters, and external - near the RS tent. The latter is a real chance to feel the people's love, especially on a day off. The thing is that the tent accepts help from citizens: money, food, clothes, helmets, cigarettes, gasoline and Styrofoam for Molotov cocktails and so on and so forth. They carry it in bags, if not sacks. On the first Sunday of my duty, during 15 minutes of the Popular Veche [an ancient form of assembly from the Kyiv of 1000 years past, revived in Maidan], the Right Sector received about 2,000 hryvnias.
- Boys, you are heroes! Have some tea and cakes, and in the evening we'll bring you a cake," said two old women circling near our stove.
- There'll be another shift tonight. But bring it anyway - we pay for our generosity with strained courtesy. For example, we allow people to take pictures with us against the background of the banner, and we patiently listen to advice from "armchair fighters" - the people's love requires sacrifice.
During training with shields, we demonstrate a spectacle in exchange for the bread we receive. A couple of hundred spectators gather in the evenings to watch a squad build a (supposedly) almost impenetrable "turtle" in 15-20 seconds, clumsily march in it, and withstand an attack of the supposed enemy.
- Zasika Squad, build a turtle!!!! Close your shields! Hold on!
- We are "Berkut", you are all fucked, surrender, - to help us with the training another squad came.
At the same time, stones, logs, firecrackers (watch your eyes!) fly at the "turtle". We are punched from a run, beaten on our shields with batons, snatched out of the front line (you lie, you can't take it - Right Sector doesn't give up its own!). We endure. Applause, curtain.
- Guys, what's this all about? We are in favor of peaceful protest. God bless you for that... - a small, perky old woman suddenly jumps out between the "attackers" and the "defenders". The general laughter drowns out her last words, and a couple of soldiers gently take the grandmother away from the square.
Then we scour YouTube looking for videos of training sessions. We show them to the newcomers and guys from other squads with the obligatory description of the details.
- Here, it's dark, you can't see, but I was standing right here, see how he got us!
- And a firecracker exploded right under my foot!
- Yeah, and remember, he grabbed you by the shield and started pulling you out, and I'm holding you back, not letting you go...
Truly, only Right Sector loves Right Sector more than anyone else. During the month-long truce between the January and February clashes, the fighters' sense of self-importance grew daily.
- If it weren't for us, these draconian laws [he means the January 16 Anti-Protest Laws, which were repealed on the 28th of January following Maidan resistance] would never be repealed.
- We went under the grenades, and the Maidan Self-Defense was hiding in the bushes, came ready to go....
That's coming from the young people, about three quarters of whom are on the fifth floor. In our squad, for example, there are only two over 30: the small, perpetually cold Shuba (about 40) and the jovial Volya (over 50) - simple workers from the Central Ukrainian regions.
In the smoking room, you can catch more interesting people. For example, veterans of the UNA-UNSO (part of the RS, but deployed separately at the time), who have recovered their spirits and put on parade camouflage. Caricaturedly twirling their mustaches, they recount old military adventures:
- ... Dudayev's [the leader of the short-lived independent Chechen Republic of Ichkeria in the 1990s] men once gave them a case of German beer - Muslims don't drink. So the guys changed into Russian uniforms and with the crate went to their tank company. They found some suckers there and said: "Brothers, lend us a tank for an hour or two - we need to go to the village, and we'll buy you a beer. Those agreed, and ours climbed into the tank and, without even leaving, fired a direct gun at the Russian artillery battery... And they panicked over the radio: "Czechs" were coming, "Czechs"! In other words, Russian artillery put down an entire Russian tank company. Dudayev then gave them another case of beer.
- Of course, they returned to Ukraine, and no one needs heroes here. They started to drink with boredom. In Cherkassy, I remember going into a pub, and there were either pigs or bandits sitting there. And they kept ordering a song, you know, "Gentlemen Officers".
Gentlemen officers, on my strained nerves
I sing this song with the chords of faith
To those who give up their careers and spare no stomach
Who lays down their chests for their Russia.
We explained to them nicely that this song hurts our feelings regarding aesthetics, and they started to get angry. Well, Seryoga went off, he pulled a grenade out of his pocket, blew the pin and hit them with it....
The young people listen with their mouths wide open. Such stories are a kind of part of the meager entertainment program here, a way to kill the free time, which between training and duty there is plenty of. There are three lines to the only chessboard: one of amateurs, one of masters, and one of checkers players. Books are all over the floor - some of the patriotic literature was provided by Trident (a nationalist organization affiliated with the RS), some of it was taken from the library of the Ukrainian House on honour’s word. Cards were soon banned, although they were played for squats and push-ups. A separate company regularly gathered to play "mafia". There are funny nuances here: at the "mafia" characters everyone shouts, as a rule, "Our with the gang!" [a popular anti-Yanukovych slogan at EuroMaidan], and at the "police" characters - "Down with the pigs!" and "ACAB!" The shouting is for the whole floor, and at night the duty officers unceremoniously disperse the players - just like the counselors in a pioneer camp during quiet time.
There are also more sophisticated cultural events. From time to time someone brings tickets to events at the Ukrainian House, but there are few people willing to go to concerts of opera singers and poets. A full house gathers for Right Sector's own concerts, for example, when musicians from the band "Sokira Perun" or writer and showman Antin Mukharsky, aka Orest Lyuty, come to visit.
Sokira Peruna, or Perun’s Axe (Perun is a famous pre-Christian Slavic god beloved by Slavic fascists) from their 2014 album. This song is called ‘Heroes of my Race’.
Legends never die! They live for centuries, Like the victorious spirit, Like the flame of war.
Heroes never die! Their cause does not perish, Because the flag is raised By the hands of the young!
Chorus: Heroes of my Race! Heroes of my Race! Heroes of my Race! Heroes of my Race!
- I am glad that now a new generation of young conscious people has grown up, ready to take up arms. Maybe you can break the vicious circle in which we, who started the national liberation struggle in the late 1980s, found ourselves. If it weren't for you, these "three warriors" [this seems to be a reference to a Ukrainian nationalist narrative, according to which Russia has supposedly claimed for itself mythical heroes that were actually Ukrainian] would have been trampled long ago," Mukharski gives a preamble to his speech.
- To be honest, I became a nationalist thanks to his songs," Radikal whispers in my ear.
Moskal, the eternal barbarian, the eternal boor
Filth of the Russian land!
To seize a foreign land, to destroy a temple -
Moskals can do it all!
...
Brother Russian, understand,
Bless heaven and earth:
Kill the Moskal in yourself,
Kill the Moskal in you!!!
- Orest Lyutiy now sings in chorus with the demonstrators