‘DNR’ Leadership Grows in Callousness

The growing indifference of the invading authorities to their enslaved people suggests they likely feel increasingly secure and have consolidated relationships with the right constituents

I have been following events in the so-called Donetsk People’s Republic for many years, since the start of the invasion in 2014.

(I’ll refer to it as the ‘DNR’, and I insist on the inverted commas because it apparently really annoys their authorities.)

Prior to spring 2014, I had spent much time in Donetsk, traveling there several times a year. From around 2005 to 2014 I watched the city change rapidly. I witnessed how it and the local people became more Europeanised (in the right sense of the word). I also observed how their relationship with Kyiv changed over that time, and especially how their relations with the local authorities developed.

(That evolution of Donetsk culture also shaped in many ways attitudes in other parts of Ukraine to the city and its region, and some aspects of Ukrainian governance, though I shall go into that elsewhere.)

The invasion and occupation of Donetsk and surrounding areas in 2014 were, and still are, highly traumatic. That should not require reiteration here, but it is important to stress that what happened here was an external event, a brutal assault by a foreign country that had been preparing the way for invasion for many years.

I know the Donetsk area and its people well; or at least, I used to. But what is clear now is that the Russians had put in place long ago plans to invade, patiently cultivating specific groups which would infiltrate the general mood of the local Ukrainian populace and form a basis to support the eventual invasion.

The peculiarities of Donetsk governance and how they helped the invasion

That point is crucial, that this was an invasion that the majority of locals did not want. Many local people actively opposed the Russians. But the Russian and pro-Russian bodies that were taking over the area had done long preparatory work. They had spent years establishing and supporting supposed local movements, youth groups, and pro-Russian organisations that opposed the general mood of the local Ukrainian populace.

Attitudes within the Donetsk area towards local governance before 2014 were, I suggest, much different from those within other oblasts. Donetsk in particular had developed a specific regional character, and demanded that its local leadership preserve that in a special way—within the limits of a Ukrainian state. Local leaders were expected to defend the unique Donetsk society and culture, and the relationship between the governors/local elites and the regional population developed significantly from the early 2000s to 2014. Moscow was almost certainly on exploiting cracks in the local system through its support of on-the-ground movements and media.

Laid over this, or at least adding to this was, of course, the defining feature of the local system around Donbas, especially in Donetsk Oblast but beyond: the concentrated influence of organised nonofficial (insert adjective here) networks and their power over local politicians. It was impossible to consider political, economic, or social issues in Donetsk without thinking of Rinat Akhmetov and his business empire. Akhmetov both added to and exploited the cultural exceptionalism in Donetsk—in many cases well deserved, as well as indelibly shaping attitudes across Ukraine towards Donbas.

The other thing to note here was the local corruption, around almost all aspects of the economy and society. I shall not go into that here (and I do not have statistics in front of me), other to note that levels of corruption around Donbas were perceived (even by local people) to be exceedingly high, and much more so than in other parts of Ukraine. Corruption in the area was endemic, even when officials and businessmen from Kyiv used to travel to the east for the additional opportunities for graft.

This led to a unique but complex situation where the locals relied on their regional representation to support their specific interests, especially against Kyiv, even when they often felt that local politicians were nothing more than (as one local put it to me today) ‘mafia’.

Inchoate ‘DNR’ leadership unsure, unstable

Moscow and its proxies were able to exploit these nuanced, involute problems when they invaded.

In the early months in 2014, the emerging ‘DNR’ system and fighters were, however, highly sensitive to the popular mood. The Russians and their proxies were very keen to grab hold of media infrastructure and institutionalise quickly media processes, setting up for example a ‘ministry’ for information.

They were quick also to seize time, capturing and manipulating visions of future, and exploiting history. One of the first thing ‘DNR’ militia did was to target the elder generation: they got them on side by going round handing out free bread to local pensioners. This was very helpful to a group of anxious impoverished people, but also incredibly reassuring from a symbolic and historic view: it took them back to the stability of the Soviet period, where people did not have to worry about going hungry in retirement.

As well as biscuits and carrots, the Russians and their proxies were keen to coerce with extreme violence to enforce their rule. The brutality laid out against the people in the nascent ‘DNR’ has been well documented.

I have tracked attitudes (using various techniques) within the ‘DNR’ for many years, and noticed deep changes since 2014. I shall write in general terms here, but it is clear that people have become a lot more cautious about what they say. I could still hold conversations with friends in the ‘DNR’ until relatively recently, and I would chat with buddies and contacts, even over Viber.

Since 2022 especially, the situation has become a lot tougher. Friends will not call. Local politicians and businesspeople whom I knew refuse to speak. The mood appears to have become darker, and the ‘DNR’ media space has progressive become tighter. The Telegram environment especially has evolved.

The evolving water crisis

One of the interesting aspects of the local populace’s evolving relationship with the ‘DNR’ leadership has been the conversation around water supplies.

The water situation in the ‘DNR’ appears to be increasingly dire, with contacts telling me of severe restrictions, disintegrating infrastructure, and disappearing reservoirs.

However, water was one of the few areas where locals expressed their dissatisfaction with the local administration, regularly on social media, and even rare public protests and gatherings.

The crisis has been going on for months, years. Directors of Voda Donbassa (Donbas Water, the ‘DNR’ state-owned water authority made public promises to sort the situation in July last year, likely shaken by the discontent spewed at them by dirty Donetsk denizens.

Image: Screenshot of Yaroslav Kapustin from Voda Donbassa promising to provide water, Mobilizatsiya DNR Live Telegram channel, 24 July 2024

Problems in Donetsk in summer are much different from those in winter, and once the scorching sun had given way to the freezing conditions last year, people had started to go into the streets to complain openly.

Image: Donetsk residents protest the lack of water, Slavyanskaya Pravda Telegram channel, 3 December 2024

Winter last year saw men reportedly bathe in the snow, and old women reportedly gather water from puddles in the street.

(Other temporarily enslaved regions, including Crimea, have also suffered chronic water problems, and have struggled to fix them.)

Until recently, the ‘DNR’ authorities had appeared keen to react to complaints about water, promising to respond and fix the situation (even though they rarely acted).

This seems to have changed. ‘DNR head’ Denis Pushilin used his annual televised address to the populace last month to tell people that they had to accept the realities of the water crisis.

I have discussed this in a previous post, but it is worth suggesting that this likely marks a new approach from the authorities in their attitude towards the local populace, a signal that the ‘DNR’ leadership is less concerned about popular sentiment, or about the potential instability of its own position, and that the ‘DNR’ leaders feel secure to continue to rule without really caring about their subjects.

This callous cynicism could be significant, an openness that the ‘DNR’ now feels that it is secure in its occupation, and will continue regardless of what people think. It can even afford to signal its lack of concern, telling people to accept the ‘realities’ of the situation, coercing their compliance.

Courting, ignoring the right people in the ‘DNR’

Since Pushilin’s announcement I have discerned a significant decrease in complaints about water from people in the Telegram channels I try to follow. This is purely from a personal a sense I have, and I have not tested this thought against a data analysis.

This might be the result of a clamp down from the ‘DNR’. However, I suspect it is possibly more nuanced than that, however, and a result of the evolving relationship—understood and formulated by the ‘DNR’ leaders—of the authorities with the population under their control.

Despite years-long promises to solve the water crisis, Pushilin published yet again a couple of weeks ago a series of measures that he would undertake to get on top of the problem.

Image: Screenshot of Pushilin’s video address listing the measures he was taking to address the water crisis, and blaming Ukrainian forces for the ‘water siege’, ChP Donetsk Z Mariupol Telegram channel, 20 July

This did evoke some mocking on Telegram, especially concerning Pushilin’s attempts to blame the water situation on Ukrainian forces. Pushilin’s argument might not be hitting home, though it is likely that he does not care.

What is important for Pushilin is not that the majority of ‘DNR’ residents support him: what is key that the right constituents support him, the local businesses and elites and criminal elements, and of course the right people in Moscow. To hell with the rest!—and this mirrors very much the general approach of the Kremlin: it is important to maintain ties with the right groups, and as long as those relationships are secure, you can ignore the interests of the rest.

This approach likely shapes the evolving status of the Russian economy (though I am not an economist). It likely shapes, though in a highly concentrated form, the specific development of the ‘DNR’ and the way its leaders control the economy and cultivate relationships with local businesses and people. The notion that the ‘DNR’ authorities can send large groups to the Telegram devil suggests that they feel secure with their position in the claimed territory, and also have the Kremlin’s support—for the time being.

Controlling perceptions of the future are key in how Russia enslaves people. The suggestion that the ‘DNR’ authorities are so secure in their thinking about the future should be deeply concerning for us in terms of how Russia projects what will happen in enslaved Ukraine. It is also deeply concerning that Kyiv’s allies are seemingly slowly accepting the ‘DNR’s’ ‘realities’.

Costs of living in the ‘DNR’

Russian messaging works at different levels. The continued existence of the ‘DNR’ suggests that the local powers have benefited from and applied the experience of years of knowledge about the region. The ‘DNR’ certainly appears to have managed a range of social concerns, especially about the lack of decent food, the lack of water, the price of meat, the costs of a range of items from utilities to petrol. Undoing this will be extremely difficult, though should be a core part of our ongoing work: even where deoccupation appears to have disappeared from our list of priorities.