"Either cooperation, or SHIZO and a new case". Marfa Rabkova and Nasta Loika — about pressure, fear, and changes in the penal colony

Human rights defender Nasta Loika in the Homiel women's penal colony was presented with a choice: agree to talks with employees or prepare for new punishments — punishment cell (SHIZO), cell-type premises (PKT), and yet another criminal case. Meanwhile, some employees built careers on persecuting political prisoners, while others, on the eve of releases, tried urgently to create a better impression of themselves. Nasta Loika and Marfa Rabkova spoke about how the pressure in the colony changed and what the system itself fears now, during a meeting in Vilnius.

"You have two options"

According to Loika, the colony administration closely cooperated with GUBOPiK, and the pressure on her particularly intensified shortly before her release from the cell-type premises.

"Approximately a month before my release from the PKT, they came to me and said: 'You have two options. Either SHIZO, PKT, Article 411, and Rechytsa, or you start talking to the staff'," the human rights defender recounted.

Article 411 of the Criminal Code — "malicious disobedience to the requirements of the administration of a correctional institution" — allows for a new criminal case to be initiated against a person already serving a sentence, and to extend their imprisonment. Rechytsa is home to women's correctional colony No. 24, where female recidivists are sent.

In fact, Loika says, she was offered a choice between contact with employees and further deterioration of her health:

"It was a choice between whether I wanted to destroy my health or not. I said: 'If option two, then how much SHIZO?' Because SHIZO is the most difficult physically and psychologically."

According to the human rights defender, the employees assured her they were not demanding "anything immoral" from her. Loika admits: after prolonged isolation and constant psychological pressure, she had almost no strength left for such conversations:

"At that moment, I just wanted to finally finish with this and go to Rechytsa, because it was very difficult for me."

Павялічыць

From water on blankets — to reports and deprivation of letters

During her imprisonment, Nasta Loika observed how the methods of pressure on political prisoners in the women's colony changed.

When the first political prisoners began arriving there in 2021, the administration, according to her, did not yet understand how to deal with them. Initially, they served their sentences under roughly the same conditions as other women. Later, Loika believes, separate instructions came from the Department of Penitentiary Enforcement — and targeted harassment began.

"The squad leader poured water on blankets, operatives twisted beds into 'ram's horns'. You wake up in the morning and don't know what awaits you today, or if they'll find a blade in your pocket. It was truly a terrifying period of very serious harassment," the human rights defender recounts.

The situation began to change when political prisoners started to be released and publicly spoke about what was happening behind bars. According to Loika, the employees found themselves caught between the instructions of the Department of Penitentiary Enforcement and GUBOPiK on the one hand, and public outcry on the other.

Open violence from employees decreased, but the pressure did not disappear — only its form changed. Instead of open bullying, they more often began to use disciplinary reports, punishment cells (SHIZO), deprivation of visits and parcels, restriction of correspondence, and contacts with lawyers.

Павялічыць

However, Loika does not consider the latter part of her term a period of softening. New operatives appeared in the colony who, according to her, were proponents of a harsh regime. This led to a worsening of conditions not only for political prisoners but for all inmates.

"They made careers on political prisoners"

Nasta Loika asserts that the persecution of political prisoners helped some colony employees receive new ranks and positions:

"Before my eyes, several employees, about five people, really made careers out of us. They wrote many reports — and a person very quickly went from junior lieutenant to captain."

According to her, an employee who participated in prolonged psychological pressure on her through the story of the dog Erik was also transferred to the Department of Penitentiary Enforcement. For a month, the operative came to Loika almost every other day and tried to convince her that the dog had allegedly died.

"This is a very complex mechanism. On the one hand, people genuinely built careers on us. On the other hand, they tried to find some boundary between what they were ordered from above and potential harm to themselves in the future," Loika notes.

After Tsikhanouski's release, they started "jumping on the last train"

Marfa Rabkova believes that the colony's employees are concerned not so much by sanctions lists and possible travel restrictions, as by overall political uncertainty.

Previously, the system offered them a simple picture: political prisoners are "enemies" who must be humiliated, punished, and isolated. However, after the start of negotiations with the West and the release of some political prisoners, this picture began to crumble.

"For them, everything should be simple: when they are told that we are enemies, that we must be tortured, that we must be destroyed. But now some negotiations are starting, they are releasing us. They don't understand: what will happen tomorrow? Who to negotiate with? Who will come? Who will I be in a year or two?" Rabkova recounts.

Павялічыць

The release of Siarhei Tsikhanouski became a separate signal for the administration. According to Rabkova, many in the colony were convinced that he would remain behind bars for a long time. When Tsikhanouski was released, employees realized that other well-known prisoners might follow.

"I saw how they started to adapt. They understood that the people who are sitting here today might find themselves in Europe tomorrow, where they will be received at a fairly high level and where they will be able to say something about the employees," Marfa notes.

Shortly before the release, some employees allegedly changed their tone of conversation and began to convince political prisoners that they actually treated them well and considered them "smart, normal people." Rabkova interprets this as an attempt to create a more favorable impression of themselves in advance.

"In 2023 or 2024, such a thing couldn't even be dreamed of. But now, those who want to sit on two chairs are starting to think: punish or not punish, humiliate this person or not. They themselves don't know what will happen tomorrow and where these people will end up. This includes fear."

According to Rabkova, distrust also exists within the power system itself:

"They don't know if they themselves might end up behind bars tomorrow if the system starts eating its own tail. They even fear other employees: GUBOPiK fears the KGB, the KGB fears GUBOPiK."

The human rights defender suggests that law enforcement officials admit the possibility of internal purges, during which the system might punish its own yesterday's executors.

According to Rabkova, the mood of the employees was also influenced by the course of the war in Ukraine. Many of them believed that Russia would quickly win and capture Kyiv. When this did not happen, the former confidence began to disappear:

"They all thought that Russia would quickly conquer Ukraine — this 'Kyiv in three days'. But over time, they see that Russia is faltering. They are starting to understand that the world is very complex and they don't know what will happen tomorrow. Who will we be friends with? Where will they tell us to transfer this woman tomorrow, who is sitting before us today for some 'terrorist' article?"

Павялічыць

Salary around two thousand, not enough people

Nasta Loika also spoke about the high staff turnover in the colony:

"There's very high turnover, especially among lower-level staff. You come without an education, you get about two thousand rubles — and even under such conditions, they can't recruit people."

The human rights defender calls the penitentiary system a closed and toxic environment. According to her, the employees themselves are under constant control and are wary of colleagues.

"These were not indulgences, but their internal games"

During the meeting, Rabkova and Loika were asked why the administration allowed them to meet with each other and gave them certain indulgences that were difficult to obtain without giving anything in return. Such an impression was formed after the women's account of life in the colony.

Nasta Loika disagreed with this impression. According to her, they were not in a privileged position: unlike many other political prisoners, she was immediately forbidden visits and her contacts with lawyers were significantly restricted. Nasta herself tried to avoid the administration whenever possible, but employees regularly came to her or called her for conversations.

Loika called the meetings with Marfa allowed at the end of her term "internal games of the administration":

"It seems to me that it was very important for this particular employee that we leave with a good impression of him. I wouldn't say his goal was achieved in my case. I didn't like these conversations with him at all; sometimes I was afraid to go to him. I understood that any conversation could end in SHIZO," she explained.

Marfa Rabkova also emphasized that she did not approach the administration herself and did not ask for improved conditions for herself. According to her, due to her public profile, employees always paid increased attention to her and initiated conversations themselves. Rabkova used this to advocate for other women:

"I always told them the truth and never asked anything for myself. But when I was called, I said: 'Why are you putting her in SHIZO? How much more? Her health is poor. Why are you sending elderly people there?'" the human rights defender recounted.

She also tried to persuade employees to talk to inmates first, rather than immediately drawing up reports and sending them to the punishment cell. In particular, Rabkova advocated for sick, elderly, and pregnant women.

She attributes the softening of attitude at the end of her imprisonment to the changing political situation. She also regarded the permission to meet Nasta as an attempt by the administration to smooth over what had happened earlier and leave a more favorable impression of themselves. According to Rabkova, such meetings would have been impossible in 2023–2024.

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