Svatove, the Luhansk region city and municipality centre with a population of about 25,000 people, was occupied by Russian forces at the beginning of March.
Before that, Svatove was often used as a sort of an example, Ukraine’s trump card in the region that saw a dividing line appear with the creation of the self-proclaimed “Luhansk people’s republic” (“LPR”). Svatove was reliable. No one has ever raised neither a separatist flag nor a Russian tricolour in Svatove.
The local authorities have given enough interviews on the subject: they say that, in the spring of 2014, self-defence militias — about fifty men — under their command armed themselves with their own hunter carbines (according to other versions, they “borrowed” service pistols at the local police department, the employees of which had already been ready to surrender without a fight), put up security checkpoints, blocked roads, including the field ones, and did not let invaders enter the city — the Prizrak Brigade led by Aleksey Mozgovoy, a Svatove township native, ex-employee of a local military commissariat and a soloist in a local choir. (In May 2015, Mozgovoy and his motorcade were killed in a car ambush on the Perevalsk-Luhansk road — orchestrated either by special forces of the HUR, Main Directorate of Intelligence of the Ministry of Defence of Ukraine, or possibly by the Luhansk separatists, but that is a completely different story).
The steadfast city that did not betray its country then became the location for the regional administration, Prosecutor’s office, and other government structures, not to mention the arrival of refugees from the nearby localities from “behind the line”. The local court had to work thrice as hard: deal with its own caseload, and add to it the work of the Krasnodon city court and the Luhansk Lenin district court, both of which ended up on the occupied territories. The majority of criminal proceedings had to do with the Donbas armed conflict. This is me recounting my story Tilnaya Storona from Svatove published in Novaya Gazeta in the summer 2018.
The state of the regional centre back then led to no doubts — “Russian peace” would not be welcome here, they could stop waiting. The streets were full of the sound of the Ukrainian language, and even more often, of Surzhyk, a special Slobozhanskyi dialect. The City Council building was decorated with portraits of Lesya Ukrainka, Nikolai Gogol, Stepan Bandera, etc. Other portraits were hung on the second floor — so that vandals could not get to them. In the best European traditions, the council building was adjoined by a children’s playground with slides and swings and by a fashionable bicycle parking station. A small park nearby was full of statues of angels, hiding in between rose bushes, and, obviously, there was a sculpture of Jesus Christ. Every installation had a sign saying “A gift by a local patron this and that” underneath it. Merchant traditions live on! And there was also a memorial: in a row, there stood a monument to the victims of Holodomor, plates with names of the natives killed during the Second World War (the stela says: “1939-1945”), a monument to the victims of Chernobyl, a monument to the soldiers killed in Afghanistan, and an obelisk “In loving memory of Ukraine’s defenders” with engraved death dates of soldiers born in the middle of the 90s — 2014, 2016, 2018…