A Disastrous Black Sea Oil Spill Unites Z-Activists and Anti-War Russians Alike Текст: ANAPA, Russia — Artyom, 21, remembers the night in February when the headquarters for volunteers fighting a fuel oil spill in the Krasnodar region suddenlyburstinto flames. “Someone shouted, ‘The headquarters is on fire!’ I didn’t understand what was happening at first. Smoke was billowing everywhere. Volunteers broke down the door and started pulling out hazmat suits and respirators. I called the fire department, but by the time they arrived, everything had already burned down,” Artyom said. He recalled how volunteers from the ruling United Russia party also helped extinguish the fire that night. Standing nearby was Igor Kastukevich, a Russian-installed senator from occupied Kherson, who had beenappointedto oversee the cleanup effort. “He was cursing loudly and yelling at everyone not to let anyone record what was happening on their phones,” Artyom said. “He already had a grudge against us volunteers. The first time he visited the headquarters, he saw that someone had written ‘Freedom to the seas, fuel oil to the Kremlin’ on the wall in the toilet. He didn’t like that very much.” Volunteers later discovered a pile of United Russia campaign leaflets among the ashes, Artyom recalled. “We even joked that it was United Russia activists who set fire to the headquarters and left the message as a hint. But some people are really sure it was them. It is suspicious that a few days before the fire, one of the coordinators of the headquarters was warned that these independent volunteers wanted to be kicked out of here,” he said. A few days before the fire, abannerreading “Government and oil — fuel oil and death” appeared near the Rosneft oil giant’s office in Krasnodar. Police opened a hooliganism case, but the perpetrators were never found. Small acts of protest like this have sporadically appeared at this site, where volunteers have been tirelessly working for months to clean up one of the worst environmental disasters in recent Russian history. On Dec. 15, 2024, two aging Russian tankers carrying more than 9,000 tons of heavy fuel oil sank during a storm in the Kerch Strait, polluting coastlines from Crimea to Georgia. Worst-hit by the spill was Russia’s Krasnodar region, where thousands of seabirds, including endangered species, are believed to havedied. The spill has sparked an unprecedented wave of independent volunteer efforts from across Russia — and led to widespread public discontent. Volunteers flocked to the coasts of southern Russia and annexed Crimea from across the country. They included pensioners who had previously sent aid to soldiers, nationalists, ultra-patriotic pro-war activists, United Russia supporters, environmental activists and anti-war Russians, many of whom had taken part in opposition protests in the past. This independent organizing, taking place outside the purview of the authorities, appears to have irritated officials, who see it as a threat. Every morning, a group of young people clad in protective suits painted with anti-war symbols is loaded into an army truck marked with the pro-war “Z” symbol. Among them are Sasha, an artist with painted nails; Semyon, an 18-year-old anarchist; Liusya, a feminist; and Dasha, an environmental activist. They travel for half an hour in the rattling truck, listening on a portable speaker to tracks by anti-war musician Noize MC, who is labeled a “foreign agent” by the government. The driver, Dima, is a soldier who previously delivered humanitarian aid to soldiers and civilians near the front lines in Ukraine. This surreal scene plays out in Anapa, a small resort city where the fight to save nature has brought people together from across the political spectrum. “Now that the federal authorities are increasing their pressure on self-organization, it’s really important to find like-minded people on the ground,” said one anti-war volunteer, speaking on condition of anonymity for safety reasons. He said he has worked alongside members of the far-right nationalist group Russkaya Obshchina (“Russian Community”), pagans, communists, Putin supporters and pro-war “Z-activists” on the beaches. “Everyone marks their emblems on their protective coveralls somehow. I thought, why not paint a peace sign on mine? I knew a lot of volunteers felt the same way. The next day, a girl I knew did the same. Then another, and another,” the volunteer said. “It’s nice to be among like-minded people.” Though tensions sometimes arise, volunteers generally get along despite their political differences, he said. Environmental activism is one of the few relatively safe ways to express dissent in Russia, which has outlawed anti-war statements and demonstrations since invading Ukraine. Some volunteers channel broader dissatisfaction with the government into their activism on environmental issues.This includes both opposition activists and apolitical citizens frustrated with the authorities’ handling of the disaster. “In the first days after the spill, officials acted like nothing had happened. Local residents came to the beaches with shovels to clean up huge layers of fuel oil themselves. The level of self-organization was simply unprecedented. People collected money and humanitarian aid on their own; they bought respirators and protective suits,” said Semyon, the 18-year-old anarchist from Krasnodar. A few days later, Anapa residents recorded avideoappeal to President Vladimir Putin and Prime Minister Mikhail Mishustin, demanding that properly equipped rescuers from across Russia be sent to the polluted areas. The Krasnodar region did not declare a regional state of emergency until 10 days after the spill on Dec. 25. The federal government followed on Dec. 26, and Crimea declared a regional emergency on Dec. 28 — after nearly two weeks had passed. An emergency response center in Krasnodar latersaidnearly 8,500 people, including emergencies ministry staff and volunteers, were involved in the cleanup, along with nearly 400 pieces of heavy machinery. But once Kastukevich, the senator for occupied Kherson, was appointed to supervise the response, authorities started “tightening the screws,” Semyon recalled. “Independent volunteer groups were slowly pushed under control, pressured to cooperate or simply forced out,” he said. “Now they’re saying that the emergency regime will be lifted by mid-May. It will be difficult to solve bureaucratic issues without it. Volunteer headquarters will be closed.” Another volunteer said the head of one of the volunteer groups was forced to leave after authorities threatened him. “They called and told him the police were going to search his home, and Kastukevich’s people from United Russia threatened to send him to the war because the local authorities were fed up with him,” the volunteer said. In late January, Natural Resources Minister Alexander Kozlovpromisedthat the beaches in the Krasnodar region would be fully cleaned by the start of the summer, the peak tourist season. However, in mid-April, the national public health agency reported that 150 Black Sea beaches were still unsuitable for swimming. While officials insist that the fuel oil spill will soon be fully cleaned up, volunteers remain skeptical. As the Black Sea warms, oil that has been sitting on the sea floor will rise and wash ashore. The long-term environmental damage will only become clear in the years to come, expertssay. “The authorities want to show that they have everything under control and that the summer holiday season will resume soon,” Semyon said. “We’re trying to show what’s really happening here. Even though the media hype has died down, there’s still a lot of fuel oil. It’s not going away.”

ANAPA, Russia — Artyom, 21, vividly recalls the fateful night in February when the volunteer headquarters working to combat a fuel oil spill in the Krasnodar region was engulfed in flames.

“I heard someone yell, ‘The headquarters is ablaze!’ At first, I was confused. Smoke was everywhere. Volunteers had to kick down the door to retrieve hazmat suits and respirators. I called the fire brigade, but by the time they arrived, it had all burned to the ground,” Artyom recounted.

He mentioned that volunteers from the ruling United Russia party assisted in battling the flames that night. Among them was Igor Kastukevich, a senator installed by Russia in the occupied Kherson region, who had been designated to supervise the cleanup.

“He was loudly swearing and ordering everyone not to let anyone film what was happening. He already had a vendetta against us volunteers. During his first visit to the headquarters, he noticed someone had scribbled ‘Freedom to the seas, fuel oil to the Kremlin’ on the bathroom wall, and he was not pleased,” Artyom said.

After the fire, volunteers found a stack of United Russia campaign flyers in the debris, Artyom noted.

“We even joked that perhaps it was United Russia activists who set the place on fire and left the message as a clue. Some people genuinely believe it was them. It’s suspicious that just days before the fire, one of the headquarters’ coordinators was warned that independent volunteers wanted to be ousted,” he explained.

Just days prior to the incident, a banner that read “Government and oil — fuel oil and death” appeared near the Rosneft oil company’s office in Krasnodar. Although police opened a case for hooliganism, the culprits were never identified.

Such small acts of protest have surfaced sporadically at the site, where volunteers have been tirelessly engaged for months in cleaning up one of Russia’s most severe environmental disasters.

On December 15, 2024, two aging Russian tankers carrying over 9,000 tons of heavy fuel oil sank in a storm in the Kerch Strait, resulting in pollution reaching coastlines from Crimea to Georgia.

The Krasnodar region, in particular, was severely impacted, with thousands of seabirds, including endangered species, believed to have perished due to the spill.

The disaster has ignited an unprecedented surge of independent volunteer initiatives from across Russia and fostered widespread public dissatisfaction.

Volunteers from all walks of life flocked to the southern coast of Russia and annexed Crimea, including retirees who had previously provided aid to soldiers, nationalists, fervent pro-war activists, supporters of United Russia, environmental advocates, and anti-war Russians, many of whom had once participated in protests against the regime.

This grassroots organizing, occurring outside the authorities’ control, seems to have unsettled officials, who perceive it as a risk.

Every morning, a group of young individuals donning protective suits adorned with anti-war symbols are loaded into an army truck marked with the pro-war “Z” symbol.

Among them are Sasha, an artist with colorful nails; Semyon, an 18-year-old anarchist; Liusya, a feminist; and Dasha, an environmental activist.

They embark on a thirty-minute journey in the rattling truck, tuned into anti-war tracks by musician Noize MC, who has been designated a “foreign agent” by the government.

The driver, Dima, is a soldier who previously delivered humanitarian aid to both military personnel and civilians near the front lines in Ukraine.

This surreal scenario unfolds in Anapa, a small resort town where the struggle to protect nature has united individuals from across the political spectrum.

“With the federal authorities tightening their grip on grassroots organizing, it’s crucial to connect with like-minded individuals,” an anti-war volunteer shared, requesting anonymity for safety reasons.

He emphasized his collaboration with members of far-right nationalist groups, pagans, communists, supporters of Putin, and pro-war “Z-activists” on the beaches.

“Everyone decorates their protective suits with symbols somehow. I thought, why not add a peace sign to mine? Many volunteers shared that sentiment. The following day, a girl I knew did the same. Then another, and another,” the volunteer recounted. “It’s comforting to be around others who feel the same way.”

Though there are occasional tensions, volunteers generally coexist harmoniously despite their political differences, he noted.

Environmental activism has become one of the few relatively safe avenues for dissent in Russia, where anti-war statements and protests have been prohibited since the invasion of Ukraine.

Some volunteers channel wider frustrations with the government into their environmental activism. This includes both opposition activists and apolitical citizens annoyed with how the authorities have managed the crisis.

“In the initial days following the spill, officials acted as if nothing was wrong. Local residents utilized shovels to clean up thick layers of fuel oil on the beaches themselves. The level of self-organization was remarkable. People collected funds and humanitarian aid independently; they acquired respirators and protective gear,” shared Semyon, the 18-year-old anarchist from Krasnodar.

Soon after, residents of Anapa created a video appeal addressed to President Vladimir Putin and Prime Minister Mikhail Mishustin, urging the dispatch of properly equipped rescue teams to the affected areas.

The Krasnodar region did not declare a regional state of emergency until December 25, ten days after the spill. The federal government followed suit on December 26, and Crimea declared an emergency on December 28 — nearly two weeks after the disaster.

An emergency response center in Krasnodar later reported that nearly 8,500 individuals, including emergency ministry personnel and volunteers, were involved in the cleanup, along with almost 400 pieces of heavy equipment.

However, once Kastukevich, the senator for occupied Kherson, was assigned to oversee the response, authorities began to tighten their control, Semyon recalled.

“Independent volunteer groups were gradually pressured to fall in line, coerced into cooperation or driven out entirely,” he said. “Now, they’re claiming the emergency regime will be lifted by mid-May. Tackling bureaucratic issues without it will become challenging. Volunteer headquarters may be shut down.”

Another volunteer mentioned that the leader of one volunteer group was forced to retreat after receiving threats from authorities.

“They contacted him and warned that the police would search his home, and Kastukevich’s United Russia affiliates threatened to send him to the front lines because local authorities were fed up with him,” the volunteer added.

In late January, Natural Resources Minister Alexander Kozlov pledged that the beaches in the Krasnodar region would be completely cleaned by the arrival of summer, the peak tourist season.

Nevertheless, by mid-April, the national public health agency reported that 150 beaches along the Black Sea were still deemed unsuitable for swimming.

While officials assert that the fuel oil spill will soon be thoroughly resolved, volunteers remain doubtful.

As the Black Sea warms, oil that has settled at the bottom is likely to resurface and wash ashore. Experts predict that the long-term environmental consequences will only become evident in the years to come.

“The authorities want to project an image of control and assure that the summer holiday season will resume shortly,” Semyon remarked. “We aim to highlight the reality of the situation here. Even though media attention has waned, there remains a significant amount of fuel oil. It’s not disappearing.”