|
Tatiana remembers her wedding day as the happiest
day of her life. Her groom Vladimir was handsome, courtly and, unlike so
many of the men she had dated, courteous and faithful. When he lifted her
chin to kiss her lips, she recalls feeling a sense of 'coming home'.
"He was everything to me. He was the father I never had, the mother
who had never loved me and my best friend and lover. I couldn't imagine how
anyone could be happier than I was at that moment. I had finally found my
family."
Tatiana is 35 years old with long limbs, blonde hair and the stare of
a hunted animal. Her delicate, perfectly manicured fingers are constantly
moving - either patting her bag, fiddling with her cell phone or plucking at
the cigarettes that she smokes one after another.
"I was not a smoker before this," she says, apologetic. "I am just so
nervous. Vladimir has so many friends and I never feel safe. Even here, I
never feel safe."
Casualties of a silent war
Today, Tatiana (not her real name) is sitting on one of the benches
that line the wide boardwalk that straddles Brighton Beach in Brooklyn, New
York. She is an entire world and sensibility away from that day 10 years ago
when she pledged herself to her beloved in Russia. But her situation changed
drastically when Vladimir returned from a tour of duty in Chechnya and tried
to strangle her because the eggs were too runny. The marriage went downhill
from there. Beatings, rapes and threats escalated week by week. Tatiana knew
her husband was ill, but she had no one to turn to and nowhere to go. The
police refused to help her and told her to be a good wife. "Your husband
risked his life to give you a good one. Go home."
But she didn't go home. She fled to the United States from her
hometown of Volvograd for one reason only: she knew that her husband, her
beloved and gentle Vladimir, was going to kill her.
It is strange to contemplate the deep scars on Tatiana's forehead
(from the time her once-loving husband slammed her head against the
radiator), the broken nose (from the time he hurled an iron frying pan at
her) and consider that she is one of the lucky ones. Russian statistics show
that 14,000 women are murdered every year by intimate partners. More than 75
per cent of the women are killed while trying to leave. That translates into
one dead woman every 40 minutes.
A national epidemic
No one knows the actual number of women in Russia who are living with
extreme abuse. In the late 1990s, the Internal Affairs Ministry estimated
that some 36,000 women are beaten every day by their husbands or partners.
The problem is exacerbated by the fact that the Government does not
disaggregate crime data according to gender-with the exception of
homicides-nor does it have a separate category for domestic violence. This
in turn has an impact on policy - without accurate statistics, policymakers
are reluctant to consider domestic abuse a national priority.
In Russia, we pay lip service to victim protection, but
the system is filled with structural barriers.
--Andrei Sinelnikov
"The problem is that we really don't know what the real figures are,"
says Sietske Steneker, a former UNFPA Representative for the Russian
Federation. UNFPA partners with local and internationally funded NGOs to
combat gender-based violence, improved data collection and legislative
change "We can't tell whether victims of violence are women, men or
children. The only statistics that are disaggregated are homicides."
Nowhere to go
It is a warm autumn, and Andrei Sinelnikov is setting out tea. Mr.
Sinelnikov is the Director of the National Centre for the Prevention of
Violence (ANNA), a UNFPA-supported NGO situated in a leafy Moscow suburb
that operates a hotline for abused women and lobbies for legislative change.
As soon as the issue of domestic abuse in Russia comes up, a habitual
expression of genial amusement turns serious as he leans forward and taps
the table for emphasis. "There is not a single shelter for women in Moscow.
This is a shocking thing for a city of 14 million people." Throughout the
entire country of 141 million, there are only 18 shelters that house a total
of 10 women each.
Because three quarters of abused women who are murdered by their
partners are killed when they try to leave, Russian activists charge the
lack of safe housing is a significant reason why the domestic murder rate is
so high. "The situation is very dire," says Mr. Sinelnikov. "There is
nowhere for women to go. Even if they divorce, the housing shortage is such
that many have to share an apartment with their abuser."
Legal barriers
Andrei Sinelnikov, Deputy Director of the National Center
for the Prevention of Violence "ANNA" in the NGO's office in Moscow.
Photo: Caralyn Drake: UNFPA/Panos
Russian citizens can relocate but must register first. Without
registration, they are unable to acquire a permit and, without a permit,
they are unable to access medication and other essential services, except in
a medical emergency. That, coupled with legal barriers, means women are
faced with terrible choices: stay and be beaten or leave and face the
possibility of even more extreme violence.
Although Russia ratified the Convention for the Elimination of all
Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) in 2004, women earn, on
average, 35 per cent less than men, and have little or no legal recourse
when it comes to domestic violence and rape. If police do file charges, it
will often depend on the extent of injuries, while less serious signs of
abuse or death threats go largely ignored. Cases that do go to prosecution
are done so through a justice of the peace as opposed to the regular
criminal court. In other words, a woman has to file charges as a private
citizen, collect her own evidence and round -up witnesses.
A 'do it yourself' approach to justice
"It is a do-it yourself legal system," says Ms. Steneker. "Needless to
say, most women are not familiar with this system. If they make a single
mistake, the case will often be thrown out."
According to Ms. Steneker, 8 out of 10 cases never even make it to
court because the victims make mistakes or do not follow the exact
procedural requirements. "They may file the charge one day too late. On the
other hand, the perpetrator gets free legal representation. The victim has
to pay for whatever legal expenses out of her own pocket."
Adds Mr. Sinelnikov, "In Russia, we pay lip service to victim
protection, but the system is filled with structural barriers. It is not
even a case of a crime against society that requires a public prosecutor.
Most women withdraw their complaints because it is just too difficult."
The other problem is that each complaint is treated as a single event,
even though it might be a case of repeated and ongoing abuse. Mr. Sinelnikov
relates the story of one client who called police 10 times in one year.
Because police did not consider it an ongoing crime, she was forced to file
10 individual cases.
Both Ms. Steneker and Mr. Sinelnikov attribute the stresses of the
economic transition as one reason why police are receiving more reports of
domestic violence. They also point to the fact that women are growing more
cognizant of their rights owing to the types of awareness-raising campaigns
that ANNA and other internationally funded NGOs are undertaking. Despite
this, Russian women have long endured a tradition of subservience. In
Russia, there is an old saying, "If your husband beats you he loves you."
Increasing inequality
High unemployment, increasing inequality and poor access to healthcare
and other services have made life tough for the majority since the break-up
of the Soviet Union in 1991. Added to that is the national epidemic of
alcoholism that has pushed the life expectancy of Russian men down to 59
years and unleashed a veritable maelstrom of family violence - at least
according to some researchers.
Others, such as Mr. Sinelnikov, disagree that alcohol plays as large a
role in family violence as commonly believed. "We don't know if there is a
strong connection," he says. "Most men use alcohol as an excuse. Some of our
clients have managed to persuade their husbands to stop drinking and they
are still violent. Alcohol abuse is a big problem here, but we don't believe
it is an excuse for violent behaviour."
Tatiana, for one, isn't buying it. Vladimir only drank wine and then
only a glass or two at a sitting. Today she splits her time among relatives
and friends. She worries that she is a burden to loved ones and frets
constantly about the well-being of the 5-year-old daughter left behind. In
December, her US visitor's visa will expire and she will have to return
home.
"What will I do?" she cries. "What will I do?"
Back in Russia, Mr. Sinelnikov is pessimistic. "The state doesn't
start prosecuting until the woman is already dead," he says. "Police will
sometimes call ANNA after the fact to find out whether the victim had called
the hotline."
"A bit late," he muses.
Source: http://www.unfpa.org/news/news.cfm?ID=1069
|
