By Jeremy Page
An imprisoned oligarch will not allow his spirit to be broken by jail, reports our correspondent One man is a former Soviet dissident who spent four years in the gulags and fifteen working as a bus driver before becoming an Orthodox priest. The other is a former Communist youth activist who became the richest man in post-Soviet Russia before he fell foul of the Kremlin and was thrown in jail.
Father Sergei Taratukhin, 49, and Mikhail Khodorkovsky, 42, trod very different paths through the death throes of the Soviet Union and the birth of a new Russian state. But yesterday these two victims of Russia’s turbulent politics came face to face in the unlikely setting of the YaG-14/10 penal colony in Krasnokamensk, a uranium mining town in eastern Siberia.
Father Sergei, the prison’s priest, met Khodorkovsky, its newest inmate, for the first time since he was transferred from Moscow on October 15 to serve out his sentence. As the two men talked for 20 minutes, an instant bond was formed between the priest imprisoned for challenging the Kremlin in 1974 and the oil tycoon jailed for the same in President Putin’s Russia.
“When I was in the prison camp, the KGB men used to say they dreamt of a day when political prisoners would be treated like ordinary criminals,” Father Sergei told The Times. “Now their dream has come true.”
His was a lone sympathetic voice in Krasnokamensk, a town of 65,000 people built in the 1960s near the Russian border with China and Mongolia. This dusty settlement of wooden cottages and concrete high-rises was a closed military town in Soviet times, and most residents despise the oligarchs who profited from the Union’s collapse.
Khodorkovsky accused the Kremlin this week of trying to break his spirit by sending him here rather than to a prison near his home in Moscow or the court where he was convicted, as is the norm. “The Kremlin has tried to isolate me completely from the country and the people, and, what is more, they have tried to destroy me physically,” he said in a statement.
“They hope that Khodorkovsky will soon be forgotten,” he said. “They are trying to convince you, friends, that the fight is over. That you must resign yourselves to domination by a self-serving bureaucracy in Russia. This is not true. The fight is only just beginning.”
Earlier, he sarcastically thanked Russian authorities for sending him to a region where political prisoners have been exiled for almost 200 years. This was where Tsar Nicholas I sent the Decembrists — a group of reformist aristocrats — after they attempted to stage an uprising in 1825.
In Soviet times, dissidents were also exiled here. Now it is home to Russia’s most prominent critic — the founder of the Yukos oil company, who once topped the Russian rich list with an estimated fortune of $15.2 billion (£8.5 billion).
Inna, his wife, made a point of visiting a church built by the Decembrists in Chita, the regional capital, as she made her way to see her husband this week. “In 180 years, the behaviour of the State has not changed much,” she said.
But Krasnokamensk was not chosen only for its symbolic value. Its location — six hours’ flight plus nine hours’ drive from Moscow — makes it all the harder for Khodorkovsky’s lawyers and relatives to contact him.
The town is also a minefield of health hazards, according to his legal team. Winter temperatures drop to -40C and the prison, like most in Russia, is riddled with tuberculosis. The illness has been diagnosed in five people in YaG-14/10 this year alone. Two inmates have died since January, Nikolai Podprigorin, the head doctor at Krasnokamensk’s state sanitary control centre, said. One died from gangrene, the other from dysentery after sewage leaked into the prison water supply.
Officials say that conditions in the prison are no worse than elsewhere in the country. But Khodorkovsky’s lawyers have an added concern about radioactive contamination from the Priargunskoye uranium mine, 10 miles (16km) away.
In 1991 the authorities found radiation levels of up to 7,000 becquerels per cubic metre — more than 30 times the safety limit — in parts of the village of Oktyabrskaya, next to the mine. They started to evacuate its 3,000 residents, but 2,000 are still there because the local government lacks the funds to move them.
Vika Kuznetsova, 26, who runs the village shop, said: “It seriously affects my health. Our children are very sick. They tell us everything is OK now but no one believes them.”
Dr Podprigorin said that there were pockets of high radioactivity where residents had used materials from the mines to build dachas and roads. But he insisted that radiation levels in the town centre and around the prison were normal. Either way, Krasnokamensk is a rude shock for a man who has spent most of the past decade living in a luxurious villa in Moscow and being ferried around in a limousine or private jet.
All that ended when he was arrested by special forces two years ago and charged with tax evasion and fraud. Khodorkovsky protested that the charges were trumped up by the Kremlin to penalise him for challenging its energy policy and funding opposition parties.
But his company was forcibly renationalised in December and he was sentenced to eight years in prison in May after a trial that was widely seen as a sham. With two years already served, Khodorkovsky faces another six in Krasnokamensk.
His new home is a bunk bed in one of 13 barrack-like buildings housing 100-120 prisoners each. His Italian suits have been swapped for dark blue prison fatigues, with a label on his chest saying “Khodorkovsky MB”.
Yuri Yakushevsky, a spokesman for the prison service, said: “Mikhail Khodorkovsky does all this work on an equal basis with the others.” There are, however, ways to avoid unsavoury chores. Vyacheslav Chumakov, 34, who spent seven years in the prison, said that Khodorkovsky would be treated with deference by inmates and warders. “A strong person will be able to live well in prison, while a weak one will not,” Mr Chumakov said.
The former oil tycoon is likely to live like the polozhentsi — prominent criminal figures — who have other prisoners cook and run errands for them, Vladimir Lebedev, 22, another former inmate, said. “Money can buy you anything on the inside,” he added.
Anything, that is, except good company. Prisoners are allowed four long visits of three days each and six short ones of three hours every year. For the long visits, the prison authorities provide a room with two beds for the inmate and his visitor.
Inna Khodorkovskaya emerged from the prison yesterday after her first three-day visit. She and her husband’s parents, Marina and Boris, are contemplating moving to the region. His lawyers are thinking about setting up a base here to co-ordinate his appeal to the European Court of Human Rights.
But his most regular companion is likely to be Father Sergei, who visits the prison every Friday. He is well qualified to counsel Khodorkovsky. At the age of 18 he was charged with organising an anti-Soviet youth group and sentenced to four years in a labour camp in the Perm region, thousands of miles from his home in Chita.
His fellow inmates included Ukrainian and Armenian nationalists, and people who had tried to defect. He shared a cell for two years with Sergei Kovalyov, the dissident and human rights activist.
By day, they were forced to mend electrical appliances. By night, they would discuss politics in hushed tones, or read books from the well-stocked but carefully censored prison library. And they regularly staged hunger and labour strikes to protest against their detention. By contrast, the biggest problem Khodorkovsky will face is boredom, Father Sergei said. Some inmates have jobs, making uniforms, wooden furniture and souvenirs, but there is not enough work to go round.
Nataliya Terikhova, a lawyer, said that Khodorkovsky had asked for 50 newspapers and magazines. He plans to study for a doctorate and is considering teaching in a school attached to the prison, according to another lawyer.
Whatever he does, Father Sergei said, his time in prison is certain to change him, but not necessarily as the Kremlin would like. “No one came out of my prison a Communist,” he said.
Despite the KGB’s watchful eye, Father Sergei converted to Christianity while in prison. He said that Khodorkovsky was also now a believer, although he had never been baptised. “The last two years have taught him patience and humility,” he said. “God has set him a difficult test, but I am sure he is strong enough to pass it.”
Roll-calls, chores and porridge — one day in the life of a prisoner6am Mikhail Khodorkovsky’s day begins with a wake-up call over loudspeakers
6.30 Breakfast of porridge and black tea in the communal canteen
7.00 Roll-call outside, which can last up to two hours, even in winter
9.00 Inmates on duty do chores including cleaning, bread-baking, washing-up and mending of equipment. Weekly dormitory checks by prison staff
11.00 Cooking lunch
Noon Lunch of meat, bread, potatoes and black tea. Prison spends 35.91 roubles (70p) per inmate per day on meals
1pm Second roll-call outside. Former inmates say that feet get numb standing on the concrete prison ground
3.00 Work and/or study. Options include welding, sewing, carpentry and farmwork. Inmates can earn up to 23.23 roubles (46p) a day but can only keep 50 per cent of their salary.
Practice for occasional musical and other shows, especially to mark national holidays
4.00 Spare time. Shopping for soap, cigarettes and other basics at prison store. Optional prayers and private meetings with Father Sergei every Friday. Newspapers arrive by post, about three days after issue. Washing by rota in communal bathrooms
5.00 Cooking dinner
6.00 Dinner of meat, bread, potatoes and black tea. Occasional vegetables, chicken or even seafood when inspectors come from Moscow
7.00 Washing up, cleaning
8.00 Television — one in each of the 13 dormitory blocks, two hours maximum. Only four channels available, three of them state controlled
10.00 Lights out
MARCHED OFF TO THE GULAGSThere are 763,054 men, women and children in prison in Russia. This is more than 500 prisoners per 100,000 people
Britain has 142 prisoners per 100,000 people and in Eastern European countries the average is 184 per 100,000
Amnesty International estimates that more than half of Russian prisoners have health problems
One in ten prisoners has tuberculosis and about one in 20 has HIV or Aids
Under Stalin the population of forced labour camps — gulags — peaked at 1.7 million in 1939
Alexandr Solzhenitsyn, an inmate, won the Nobel Prize for Literature for works including The Gulag Archipelago
Since 1996 the number of prisoners has shrunk by about 300,000
The Times, 10.31.2005