“We don’t believe that those who abandoned us will save us.” How Kursk residents voted in the gubernatorial elections — report

The loss of control over the border part of Kursk Oblast did not prevent Russian authorities from holding “elections” for governor and heads of settlements in the region. The current acting governor, Alexei Smirnov, won the vote, which lasted 12 days instead of three, with 65.28% of the votes. The authorities announced a record turnout in the elections – more than 61% of residents, taking into account early voting. As The Insider correspondent found out, who visited Kursk Oblast, local residents did not receive the elections with much excitement: they equally do not trust the current authorities, nor the possibility of replacing them in the elections. And it is not surprising, because before this, the state was unable to provide either defense, evacuation, or even a missile warning system.

“The lesson was not interrupted during the siren – the children were asked to go to the toilet or bathroom with their phones.”

An air defense missile flies out from the roof of a three-story building in Kursk — it is visible for a few seconds, after which the projectile goes out, leaving behind an almost vertical smoke trail, like from an airplane. A few seconds later, the sound of an explosion is heard, muffled and not very loud, so that passersby do not even react. The air raid siren begins to sound only after half a minute.

“It’ll all be quiet now. We don’t have anxiety for long,” smiles a young woman with a stroller, passing by. This is the city center, not far from Gymnasium No. 25, which made the news on the first day of voting, September 6. The school building was surrounded by sandbags, and several concrete blocks were erected in front of the entrance.

Like many other schools, there is a polling station here. But other educational institutions cannot boast such fortifications: some have only sealed the windows with impact-resistant film so that glass fragments do not fly around in the event of an explosion. The chairman of the precinct election commission is at a loss when asked about the decision to erect such serious structures: “We, as members of the commission, have nothing to do with this. Probably for safety.”

The turnout on the first day at this polling station is higher than on the days of the preliminary voting, the chairman says. Unlike other regions, where elections were held from September 6 to 8, early voting in Kursk Oblast began on August 28 — in total, Kursk residents voted for 12 days. All because of the thousands of refugees who left the border area after the invasion of the Ukrainian Armed Forces. Kursk Oblast has generally become a leader in turnout. But there is no excitement at any polling station. Approximately once a minute, individual voters come in.

“I don’t expect anything from the elections. What’s the point if you expect one thing and something else happens?” says a man of about 60 as he leaves the polling station. “I always vote for the communists. I don’t really believe that anything will change.”

During the siren, voting is not interrupted, no one goes to the shelter on the minus first floor – unlike Belgorod, where during the presidential elections in March, all members of the precinct election commission, the police, the Ministry of Emergency Situations and voters went down to the shelter.

“We have far fewer sirens than in mid-August, and the bangs are also less frequent,” says Elena, the owner of the apartment on the outskirts of Kursk where I am moving in. She is not planning to vote. “It’s scary, like the calm before the storm. We were nervous, waiting for them to start pestering us more during the elections. Why do this at all? People are in a catastrophe. It would be better to spend this money on aid. But as it is… they’ll give you some 400-500 thousand, you won’t be able to build a good fence with that, let alone a house.”

There are only a few free apartments in Kursk; the city is flooded with refugees from the border area.

“Be more careful in the evenings, there are a lot of strangers in the city now, it feels like the number of refugees is constantly increasing. People are different, you understand,” Elena advises and runs home to the neighboring apartment: two children of preschool and school age are left there. “During an alarm, they are required to interrupt their classes. There was a siren just now, but the children were asked to go to the toilet or bathroom with their phones to continue their lesson, that’s where he is now sitting in English,” she says. Kindergartens in Kursk are not working, but there are duty groups. “They are sitting practically in the basement or in some shelter. But I am worried about leaving my child there.”

On the evening of this and the following days, the residents of the building and I watch the Ka-52 and Mi-28 helicopters moving in the distance: the windows of our apartment building overlook the military airfield, so the air show is clearly audible and visible. The helicopters no longer fly over Kursk itself, as they did in August, but they constantly move from one base to another at a very low altitude.

The election campaigning was not removed everywhere on voting days. A huge LDPR billboard still hangs in the very center of Kursk. During my last visit, the LDPR was remembered for distributing humanitarian aid in branded blue and yellow bags with the name at a point on Belinsky Street.

However, this did not help in the elections: Alexey Tomanov from the LDPR, according to official data, gained 11.81%, communist Alexey Bobovnikov – 13.5%, and Just Russia Gennady Baev – 6.72%.

“Nobody cares about us. How can I vote for them after that?”
The Ukrainian Armed Forces captured the border areas of the Kursk region a little over a month ago, but the queues at the humanitarian aid distribution centers do not stop. Residents of the city are still bringing old clothes for the internally displaced persons. A 24-hour humanitarian aid collection point is organized in the building of the Kursk Circus. Unlike other humanitarian points, where clothes hang on hangers or are handed out, here boxes with things are scattered on the lawn. Two women are sorting through the clothes.

“It’s all humiliating, of course,” sighs pensioner Tatyana from Sudzha. She came to get warm clothes – it was only 8 degrees Celsius at night in Kursk. “How did I leave? By bike. I didn’t even think about how scary it would be. It was August 7, hot, but I still put on a windbreaker. I thought that if there was an explosion, there would be less shrapnel cut through the jacket. Silly, right?” Tatyana had a best friend in Sudzha – contact with her was lost on August 7.

“They say someone was taken to Sumy, there are rumors. I call her every day, hoping that she will finally answer me. But so far she hasn’t answered.”

The woman says that she would really like to vote, but could not find any information on how to do so, since she does not use the Internet. “And to find out this, when we are constantly just surviving here! I was waiting for our authorities to tell me what to do, but they never did.”

A younger woman joins our conversation: “I went to Gosuslugi, but it only said who our candidate is and who to vote for, but how can those who have left do this? Nothing is clear.” It turns out that this is Tatyana’s daughter, she is registered in Sudzha, but lives in Kursk. “I met the ‘cyclist’ here,” she nods at her mother.

Both women say they expect nothing from the elections: “It’s naive to think that any of these candidates will save us when they abandoned us like this. Now we’re rummaging around here near the circus, our whole life is here.”

Much better informed is 25-year-old Sergei, a refugee from the Sudzhansky district. He and his mother left in mid-August and consider themselves “very lucky” – they managed to escape just one day before the bridge over the Seim River was destroyed.

“You can vote remotely or at a polling station in Kursk. I submitted an application here in Kursk. My mother and grandmother submitted an application at Magistralnaya, although we are all registered in the border area. In general, these elections were discussed here even before the seizure of the territory, so those who wanted to be informed, followed.”

I am stopped by a guy in his early twenties. He introduces himself as Vitaly, the volunteer coordinator. The young man asks if I need any help, and when he finds out that I am a journalist writing about the elections, he waves me off, saying that he no longer gives a shit about the elections after he failed to evacuate his relatives.

” We were just driving, me and two guys, helping to evacuate people from Bolshoye Soldatskoye , but they wouldn’t let us go any further, they said there were Nazis there. We were trying to take my grandmother, my grandmother’s sister. We asked them to give us some equipment, so that the fighters could go and accompany us, I know that people were still going to evacuate back then. But no one cared about us. How can I vote for them after that? I don’t believe that they are even going to save us.”
It seems that many have already come to terms with the fact that the authorities have abandoned them by not informing them in a timely manner about the Ukrainian Armed Forces’ advance and not organizing the evacuation. There is almost no talk in the crowd about who left and how, although a couple of weeks ago this was the main topic at every humanitarian aid distribution point. All these emotional discussions, including criticism of local and federal officials, have been replaced by apathetic conversations about where to get a certificate for housing or medicine and who is entitled to them.

Emotional discussions have given way to apathetic talk about where to get a certificate for housing or medicine.
“The governor should have built a line of defense, but it hasn’t been built, to the delight of the idiots”
At the Russian Red Cross humanitarian aid point on Radishchev Street, I unexpectedly run into the acting governor, United Russia member Alexei Smirnov . Surrounded by a retinue of bodyguards, he visits the humanitarian aid distribution center and talks with volunteers. The conversation is devoted to the difficult task for schoolchildren of combining volunteer work and lessons. Young men in Red Cross uniforms explain that they would like to be able to leave lessons — some classes end almost at seven in the evening, and volunteer work is needed in the morning and afternoon. The governor promises to think about it and look for a solution.

It is difficult to approach Smirnov, security guards have blocked the narrow sidewalk. The acting governor is taking a photo with young volunteers when suddenly one of the refugee women notices him.

“Can I ask, we are standing in line for certificates, and the volunteers told us that some people are entitled to certificates, while others are not. For example, we are from Rylsk,” the woman asks. At this point, Smirnov’s press secretary grabs the girl by the hand, who is trying to record the conversation on her phone. An argument begins, the journalist is forbidden to film the official, explaining this by the lack of accreditation during the CTO regime and the fact that the governor’s visit is “unannounced.” At the same time, the security has no questions for the young RKKK volunteers filming on their phones.

The Red Cross office on Radishchev Street conducts medical examinations – there is a special medical bus on the sidewalk, where you can consult with a doctor, take tests, and have an ECG from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. The Red Cross issues vouchers for the purchase of medicines, but refugees are more concerned about certificates for the purchase of housing to replace that destroyed during the fighting.

“We won’t get housing certificates yet, because we don’t know what will happen to our housing in Sudzha,” sighs one of the refugees. “They are given to those who have definitely lost their housing and this is known, but we are in limbo, we don’t know whether our house has survived. And it is not known when we will be able to find out.” When asked about the elections, the woman sighs, waves her hand and turns away.

“We won’t get housing certificates, and it’s not yet known what will happen to our housing in Sudzha”
“Smirnov seems to be running around everywhere, like he’s controlling. But I don’t like him, to be honest. He’s been deputy everywhere. He’s not cut out for this position. Maybe he’s doing something good, trying to help, but he’s not cut out for it, that’s just my opinion,” says Boris, a resident of Kursk. The pensioner brought two boxes of warm clothing for refugees to the Red Cross office. “I haven’t seen a single person who would speak positively about him,” Boris adds.

The driver we are taking to the next polling station also does not approve of the acting governor. Alexey is from the village of Ponyri, north of Kursk. His daughter entered the Kursk Medical University, so now the whole family is here, helping to settle in. He voted using a paper ballot. The man waves off the suggestion that Smirnov simply did not have time to prove himself, since he has only been acting head of the region since July 1.

“He has already proven himself by being the deputy of the former governor Starovoit, who stole money. From the same company,” says Alexey. “He was supposed to build a line of defense, but it turned out that there was no line, to the delight of the idiots!”
According to my interlocutor, Starovoit and his company “have spread their tentacles everywhere”: “I have a friend who works for a large federal scrap metal collection company. They tried to open their own point here, I helped. And they started putting spokes in their wheels: this is not so, and that is not so. They hint that they need to pay. But they don’t want to on principle! They say, we will do everything that is required of us, if there is a fence – there will be a fence, if there is a fire extinguisher – there will be a fire extinguisher. They couldn’t open for a year, they were pressed on all parameters. Now they have opened somehow.”

My interlocutor does not believe that the elections will change life in the region for the better. Other residents of Kursk and the region interviewed by The Insider also think so. “Well, at first, yes, it will have a positive effect, but then everyone will forget everything. The authorities are not trying very hard now. Only the federal center helps refugees, well, and volunteers. Mostly volunteers. But at the local level, if everything remained, everything would fail.”

However, Smirnov is given credit for having made roads, the situation with which in the city was quite deplorable in the spring. “He even did it where I didn’t expect them to be done. But it was for the elections, as always.” True, they forgot to make storm drains, complains Alexey. We drive along Mayakovsky Street, and he shows the result of Starovoit and Smirnov’s work.

“They did it under the bridge. I didn’t even expect it. But that was before the first rain, because there was a drain there before, and then it got clogged. Instead of cleaning it, they just paved it over, cheap and cheerful. Our Russian cars are finished,” the driver concludes. “But under Starovoit this year, in the spring, there were the worst roads in all the time that I can remember.”

“You have to steal a lot to get an investigation launched!”
I hear again about “Starovoit stealing” on Klykov Avenue. There is a small queue: people have come to collect water. Today it is delivered for free – the other day, during road works, a pipeline was broken, and the entire northwest of the city was left without water supply.

“He opened asphalt plants, squeezed them out, and removed outside enterprises. Starovoit’s wife bought all these plants. Despite the fact that he is officially divorced. And I talk to many businessmen, they all say that they were pressed in all directions,” complains a resident of one of the nearby high-rise buildings. “And every day there is some new problem for the people, these problems do not dry up. So who needs these elections? Why are they held in such a situation?”

The second man answers him: “They should have cancelled it already. There is an acting governor, and let him sit on his ass, sorry. Do we have to label him as a ‘governor’? Why? Let him govern, no big deal. We’ll live for a month or two or three until all this, roughly speaking, settles down. And then hold elections. But they need it today and now. What don’t they do to avoid solving real problems!”

An old white Lada stops on the opposite side of the street, and five soldiers with energy drinks in their hands disembark. The car has a civilian number plate — the military often travels around Kursk and the region like this. There are also soldiers from the “LPR” and “DPR” on the streets. There are a lot of police and soldiers in the city, even more than in mid-August. At the same time, some security measures have been abandoned: for example, when leaving the station, you no longer have to put your luggage on the conveyor belt, and when boarding a train, no one is herded into the carriage — you can put your things down and wait for departure on the platform.

“Our best governor, in my opinion, was Rutskoi ,” says another resident standing in line for water. “He did a lot for the city. He built the Triumphal Arch, and pensioners traveled everywhere for free. Yes, with his coup, of course, he came into conflict with the president. They didn’t let him become governor a second time. And Mikhailov, the next head, came after him, may the kingdom of heaven be his, he was, of course, an alcoholic… but the city was still better under him than under Starovoit.”

According to my interlocutor, Starovoit, as governor, was simply waiting to be taken to Moscow:
“He stole money on the Krymsky Bridge, too, he worked with Khusnullin. That’s why he was sent here to atone for his sins in the Kursk region as governor. He started stealing here too! Have you heard the news? The Prosecutor General’s Office is taking him on, he cheated the state out of two billion during the construction of defensive structures. How much stealing do you have to do to get an investigation launched!”

“During a state of emergency, according to the Constitution, elections are not held! But who cares about the Constitution?”

The nine-story building on Soyuznaya Street, which was damaged by a rocket on the night of August 11, has acquired new balconies in a month. The building’s façade was almost repaired for the elections, but potholes are still visible on the walls. There are no police officers on duty near the building, as there were in August. Children play on the playground, and residents sit on a bench. The main topic here is not the elections, but where to find money to restore damaged apartments.

“It’s been a month already. Well, they installed the windows. They installed the windows, but not the slopes, do it yourself!” complains Natalya, a resident of the building. “They finished the balconies from the outside, yes. But does it matter that there’s nothing left in the apartment, everything burned down? We do everything ourselves at our own expense! No one takes that into account.”

Natalia voted on the last day, and her neighbor voted remotely. “The most important thing is for these politicians to help people, to take care of people. And not like now! They just reported on TV that they allocated money, that they did everything. But where is the money? We are supposed to get 15 thousand, although the repairs will cost us hundreds of thousands. But we can’t even get 15 thousand! Just yesterday I received this statement from Gosuslugi: “accepted for consideration”, can you imagine? Just yesterday! I sent it almost a month ago!”

The state allocates 15 thousand to residents of damaged houses, although repairs will cost tens of times more

The house on Soyuznaya is located in the Zheleznodorozhny District, right in the path of missiles flying toward Russian military bases and air force units in the east and northeast of the city. Despite the dangerous location, many residents have not left and are living in damaged apartments. On the fourth floor, a family is sitting at a table on a half-destroyed balcony, and children are playing near the wall of the house, where debris from the landing still lies. A worker with a mosquito net passes us.

Despite the dangerous location, many residents did not leave and live in damaged apartments
“The net costs 1,200 rubles,” Natalya nods. “Everything is at your own expense. It only looks like everything is done from the facade.”

Outside a local polling station, two men are emotionally discussing how the elections “have turned into a sham, and Smirnov, like Putin, will get 80%.” One of the interlocutors turned out to be a former State Duma deputy. The Insider is not publishing his name for security reasons.

“Our real elections ended about seven years ago. When I participated in the voting, the state gave me money for campaigning, gave me free airtime, and after the law on state financing of political parties was adopted, the elections ended,” the former deputy reasons. “In addition, no party, except for the ruling party, is capable of ensuring effective observation for three days. And we generally made the voting in the region 12-day in connection with the emergency. Yes, during an emergency, according to our Constitution, elections are not held at all! But who cares about the Constitution? As Kozma Prutkov wrote, “when military ammunition rings, all constitutions are despised!”

While we are talking, a siren starts to sound, to which no one reacts. But that is for now, the former deputy believes:

“We just have drones mostly. They shoot them down. And when the f***ers are allowed to hit us with long-range weapons, then life will be fun. They’ll catch one missile, then another, then a third. And what if ten missiles fly, then what?”
It seems that the refugees understand that none of the candidates will answer the main questions for the authorities – when they will be able to return home and what will happen to the occupied territories. And the question still hangs in the air: how did the authorities allow a foreign army to invade? The taxi driver in which I am going to the station also talks about the events of August, and his monologue consists entirely of questions:

“I simply refuse to understand this. How could they let a 12,000-strong army through to the border? Did you think the morons wouldn’t come here? Afraid? Of what? Of Putin’s name? They came in, dug in, everything is fine with them. What are we waiting for? For them to leave? Why would they leave? Did they come here to leave? No. They will soon receive long-range missiles and will pound us like they did Belgorod!” The driver recalls the day of the invasion of the Kursk region — he was in Lipetsk, when the Ukrainian Armed Forces struck the local airport. “All our planes took off at once, our people probably got some information. The airport was completely bombed. They blew up some military warehouse with weapons.”

Perhaps, if you describe the mood in Kursk Oblast in one word, it would be “uncertainty” – literally in everything. But not for officials from the ruling party. “We look to the future with confidence,” wrote the now elected governor Alexei Smirnov in his Telegram.