The Full Picture: an all-female SMM patrol on the contact line in eastern Ukraine
The conference room in the OSCE Special Monitoring Mission (SMM) to Ukraine’s Kramatorsk Hub used to buzz with activity in the morning; no longer. COVID-19 measures mean that security and operations briefings are now limited to patrol leaders. One of them this morning is Monika, who is preparing to lead a patrol to the contact line.
As Monika, seconded from the Polish Customs Service, gets the latest security update and arranges logistics, Christine, Diana and Eddrina, the three patrol drivers, are in the parking lot, ensuring that the electronics work, the tyres are in good condition and all the required gear is loaded. They are about to embark on a high-risk, three-vehicle patrol to the villages of Novhorodske and Verkhnotoretske. In addition to poor road conditions, compounded by often-treacherous ice, the all-female patrol faces an unpredictable security situation. Preparation is therefore vital.
In line with the general security situation along most of the contact line, there has been a notable improvement in the vicinity of Novhorodske and Verkhnotoretske since additional measures adopted by the Trilateral Contact Group to strengthen the ceasefire came into effect on 27 July 2020. Overall, along the contact line, the daily average of observed ceasefire violations so far in March is 93 per cent lower than in March 2020.
In and around the two villages, the SMM has noted a relatively calm situation, but recent developments are cause for concern, Monika explains. Since the beginning of the year, she notes the Mission has observed 40 ceasefire violations, including six explosions in the area. Further north, in the western and northern outskirts of Horlivka, it is even more volatile, with the Mission recording 349 ceasefire violations, including 49 explosions, in the same period. “Things are certainly better,” says Monika, “but people here still face insecurity.”
To mitigate the risk, among a host of measures, the patrol has a paramedic on board, and before departure for the contact line, each member dons a flak jacket, helmet, and – given the specific risk from COVID-19 – a facemask.
As they move west, Eddrina, the Kramatorsk Hub leader, manoeuvres one of the five-ton armoured vehicles with skill and alertness. A former American police officer who has worked with the United Nations in Kosovo and Haiti, she has no higher priority than the safety and security of her team. Also in the vehicle is Maka, a monitoring officer who joined the SMM in 2016 after over a decade of working in the humanitarian field in her native Georgia. She explains the added value of female monitoring officers. “Generally, women have greater access to different interlocutors,” she says. “People are vulnerable; they live with trauma. Women and children especially open up more easily; they are more relaxed.” “This enables us to provide a fuller picture of the actual situation on the ground,” she adds.
Before entering Novhorodske, the patrol stops to fly an unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) and check on a new makeshift mine sign that Christine, a German monitoring officer with a background in human rights, noticed a few days earlier. Fiona, a British military officer and expert UAV operator, prepares the drone but the flight fails due to a lack of GPS signal.
In Novhorodske, the patrol hears from the head of the town council. He, like all the residents, is concerned about increased military activity, which recently resulted in damage to houses and the local cemetery. He asks for the SMM’s assistance to enable the repair of a damaged large water pipeline running across the contact line. The damage has been limiting the community’s access to potable water for weeks.
Since 2014, the SMM has been daily facilitating adherence to localized ceasefires — “windows of silence” — to ensure the repair and operation of critical civilian infrastructure providing water, gas and electricity to millions of people on both sides of the contact line. In 2020, the Mission organized 1,573 windows of silence for repairs of 119 critical civilian infrastructure facilities in Donetsk and Luhansk regions. “The SMM facilitation efforts are vital for the restoration of access to services critical to the local civilian population,” explains Eddrina as she takes note of the man’s concerns.
The monitoring officers climb back in their vehicles, communicate their location and movement via the radio, and Monika gives the signal for everyone to head south to Verkhnotoretske.
On arrival, the patrol is confronted by the harsh reality of life along the contact line. Just across the line is Betmanove, formerly known as Krasnyi Partizan, where neighbours, friends and even family are cut off by the contact line, forcing them to take a round trip of hundreds of kilometres to visit people who are sometimes literally within shouting distance. “The journey is costly and time consuming,” says Diana, an SMM monitoring officer from Canada, as she points to a minefield, “but the alternative entails a heavy price in civilian lives.” Given the reduced level of violence following last year’s TCG decision to strengthen the ceasefire, the number of civilians killed or injured from shelling has drastically decreased, she explains, but mines and unexploded ordnance continue to maim and kill.
At the recently-renovated House of Culture, the patrol finds a different mood. “The renovation is finally complete,” explains the centre’s director. She says that the community had been waiting since 2014 when shelling damaged the building. “It means we will be able to organize activities for children and adults alike. We also received an out-patient clinic for basic medical assistance.”
As the patrol leaves Verkhnotoretske, Monika gazes outside. “It’s the contradiction of life here,” she says. “Lines are drawn dividing people, but everywhere I see people coming together to make things better.”