Am I awaited in freedom?

The coordinator of the project ‘Cooperation with the penitentiary system to improve the educational and legal level of convicts’, Andriy Nedbaylo, explained that they conduct training sessions and consultations with those preparing for release. Many, especially at the beginning, would ask, ‘But who needs me out there?’ When the discussions shifted to how to obtain a passport, residency registration, employment, and housing in freedom, another problem arose. On one hand, the laws exist, but real life is very different from what is written on paper. For example, it has long been almost mandatory for all regional cities to open rehabilitation centres for those who have no one left in freedom—neither family nor friends. Yet, in Kherson, such a centre has not appeared. There is also no temporary registration point. And where can one turn without a ‘propiska’ (residence permit)? You cannot be officially employed, you cannot register at an employment centre, you cannot receive medical treatment in a hospital... And so it turns out that you tell people what they are guaranteed; they head out into freedom in a month or two, they struggle and stumble, and then go back to their ‘old ways’, and you end up looking like...
Since the beginning of this year, the guys have started bringing a projector, a screen, and the documentary film ‘Doors’ (directed by Natalia Astasieva, CMI ‘Totem’) to meetings with convicts. It all begins with the protagonist passing through the ‘holding area’ and the duty officer, accompanied by colony staff, before stepping out into freedom. And the doors slam shut behind him with a distinct, incomparable metallic clang. By the way, they say that when a convict is serving time, no officer will allow themselves to shake his hand—familiarity with criminals is not encouraged. But there, outside the gates, while seeing him off, they shake his hand and wish him luck: ‘That is it, you have atoned for your guilt and are now free and equal.’
However, the film’s protagonist faces the reality that these are not the only doors one must pass through. He stands in queues at the passport office, wears out his shoes in search of work, counts his remaining pennies, and encounters former ‘colleagues’ who offer a quick and easy way to ‘get back on his feet’...
While creating the film, the production crew did not ‘stage the scenes’; they filmed reality as it is to the maximum extent possible: the actor would go to an appointment, and the officials and authorities were warned that the conversation would be recorded. Strangely enough, none of the social structures were ‘embarrassed’ enough to at least request a warning, or perhaps fix their hair. The only entity that requested but never gave its ‘approval’ was the police, claiming that the passport office is a high-security facility.
At a board meeting in Kyiv, at the State Department of Ukraine for the Execution of Punishments, representatives of the Kherson region presented the film while reporting on their cooperation with public organisations. One could perhaps say it caused a sensation, were it not for the fact that the subject matter is so serious. The State Department did not just approve of the film; they suggested extending the Kherson experience to all institutions within the penitentiary system. So now, the film is watched and discussed not only in our correctional colonies but across the whole of Ukraine.
Parallel to the film, in cooperation with the regional justice department and the administration of the State Department of Ukraine for the Execution of Punishments in the Kherson region (UGDUVIN), a ‘Guide for people being released from places of deprivation of liberty’ was developed and printed. After all, those who ended up ‘behind barbed wire’ several years ago are returning to a completely unfamiliar world, where not only transport schedules and the appearance of the city have changed, but also the principles of social protection, addresses, and phone numbers for essential services.
The film and brochure were presented in Kherson at a ‘round table’ at the UGDUVIN, to which the city and regional social services, activists, and representatives of the authorities were invited. According to the head of the UGDUVIN, Volodymyr Pinkas, thanks to this cooperation, the employment and domestic resettlement of those being released have significantly improved. Last year, 585 out of 1,594 released individuals found official employment, 69 are receiving treatment in hospitals, and 1,087 are registered (have a residency permit), while some of the released individuals are continuing their studies at technical colleges and universities. These are the best figures in recent years. And importantly, ‘Men Against Violence’ approached the creation of the handbook, which will be a real help for those being released, in a very balanced and competent manner. Unfortunately, not all public organisations prepare literature competently. For instance, a booklet released by another Kherson public organisation was not distributed among convicts. The information within it was not only outdated but also contradicted legislation (including a clause obliging every released person to mandatorily report to the police). And then there was a magazine that those same ‘activists’ tried to bring in, published by an international foundation specifically for the penitentiary system of Ukraine (!); yet, instead of coloured inserts to separate the chapters, there were queens, jacks, and sixes... If you cut them all out, you get a full deck of cards. Cards, however, are prohibited in the colony.
Such literature never reaches the convicts. It turns out that the money, time, and effort spent on its creation are simply wasted. And that is a pity.