And that question of blame is still raw. A couple of guys still believe Frank and Dima didn’t do enough to warn them how heavy things could get. Sometimes in the bar there’s a table of former prisoners chatting loudly and downing beers, with Frank sat alone in a corner of the room, reading a book.
The pressure is building. In his diary Frank describes the atmosphere as ‘draining’. He says the ‘continued predicament of uncertainty and group squabbles have led to a feeling of despondency’. He talks of ‘meals, meetings and mini-meltdowns’.
In the long legal summits between the lawyers and the thirty, the tension is thick. In one meeting Dima says, ‘I hope we’re still in Russia for the Olympics. If that happens we’ll make a huge stink out of it.’ And Pete throws his head back and cries, ‘Jesus, Dima. Are you fucking insane?’
10th December
So so very good to finally grab both Nell + Joe in my arms on Friday night at the bottom of the stairwell. I was in floods of tears. My lovely boy + girl. I missed them so so much. So good to sit down all 4 of us and argue, giggle, snort with laughter and see Nina go the whole way from giggling to crying as she does at emotional times. So lovely to be back with my loved ones. So good.
Hopes are turning towards an Amnesty Bill passing through the Duma – the lower house of Russia’s parliament. The amnesty is scheduled to coincide with the twentieth anniversary of the adoption of Russia’s constitution in December 1993. The Bill is set to free many thousands of prisoners across Russia, but at its first reading in the Duma it becomes clear that in its current form it won’t apply to the Arctic 30. The text covers hooliganism – the crime the crew are charged with – but only for people already convicted. Pussy Riot will qualify, but not Greenpeace. Powerful figures in the Duma indicate their support for a broader amnesty, but ultimately it’s for Putin to decide if the saga will now end.[116]
One week before Christmas Day the Amnesty Bill comes back before the Russian parliament for a final vote. At the last minute an amendment is inserted to include not only those convicted of hooliganism, but also those accused of it.[117] As things stand, the Arctic 30 are now included. At 4 p.m. Moscow time there’s a vote in the Duma. About half the activists are clustered around tables in the hotel bar, watching the debate on computer screens. When the result comes through, it’s resounding. The Amnesty Bill is passed. But the moment feels oddly anticlimactic.
Silence. Somebody sniffs. A few of them take sips of beer but nobody proposes a toast. This is not how anybody imagined it would be during the darkest days of their ordeal. A journalist approaches them. He raises a video camera, but there’s nothing to film. He asks if they can contrive a celebration, and Sini – always keen to accommodate people – fakes a hug with Phil and breaks into an unconvincing smile. Then she sits down and shakes her head.
‘They can put that fucking amnesty up their arse,’ she mutters. ‘I don’t want to have an amnesty from Mr Putin. He was in the wrong all along. I didn’t do anything I need to be amnestied for. He wants us to say thank you for his forgiveness. No way.’
The following day Putin holds his annual press conference in Moscow. It’s a national event. Two thousand journalists are invited; the questions have already been decided. He announces that Mikhail Khodorkovsky, the most high-profile political prisoner in Russia, will also be freed.[118] Then he confirms the Arctic 30 will be amnestied. But he says their ordeal should serve as a lesson. Putin says he suspects the Greenpeace protest at the oil platform was an ‘attempt at blackmail and extortion, or they were carrying out somebody’s order to stop our work’.[119]
‘Screw you,’ Dima shouts at the screen. ‘You don’t owe me an amnesty, you owe me an apology.’
Khodorkovsky, Pussy Riot and the Arctic 30. The Kremlin is taking out the trash before the Winter Olympics in Sochi in six weeks. None of the activists is happy that their freedom comes wrapped in Putin’s magnanimity, but they know they won’t get home unless they take the amnesty. It’s the only way to avoid a court case on trumped-up charges, then years in a Russian prison.
But Denis Sinyakov can’t do it. He knows some of the leading figures in the Russian opposition movement. He was photographing Pussy Riot’s protests before they were famous. He says he won’t sign the amnesty. He wants to fight the case in court.
‘I don’t care about Putin,’ he says. ‘This is about my truth. My lawyer says we should go to trial and fight like lions. He says if we accept it we’ll just help the investigators and the authorities to win.’
Denis’s decision is an earthquake. Mads Christensen and his team have been told it’s all or nothing – either thirty people take the amnesty or the politics of the moment get complicated. The campaigners think the others might not be allowed to leave Russia if anyone refuses Putin’s offer. A rumour goes around that ten people have already been granted the amnesty but that the process has now been halted. People are saying the investigators aren’t signing off amnesties for the others because of Denis. But when Denis and his lawyer investigate, they find that’s not true.
Video conference meetings involving people on multiple continents are dominated by the Denis dilemma. People are throwing their hands up or banging their heads on the table, saying, ‘Can’t someone just speak to him?’ or ‘Doesn’t he understand what’s at stake here?’ It’s like a powerful wind is blowing the campaigners towards an outcome that suits both Greenpeace and the Kremlin, one where they both sweep their pieces off the chessboard and declare a draw. Denis gets fifteen, maybe twenty phone calls. He’s subjected to pressure from every corner. He’s not sure who to believe. Nobody is. But eventually, for the good of everybody, he gives in and signs the amnesty. But he feels cheated. By the investigators and by Greenpeace.
‘It means we get our freedom,’ Phil tells the others in the bar that night. ‘But I agree with Denis. He wanted to fight it through the courts. But the thing is, you can’t trust the system here. I want justice to be done and this amnesty isn’t justice. They haven’t dropped the fucking charges. The amnesty sucks. It feels shit, it feels like a letdown. But we have to admit, it’s the news we wanted. It’s the only hope we have to get out. It’s the only way we’re going to get home.’
‘In life, everything comes and goes,’ says Camila. ‘Let’s look at it differently. Maybe one day we’ll give them amnesty, but for a crime they did commit.’
It’s Christmas, ninety-nine days since the protest, five weeks since the Arctic 30 were released from prison. All they need now is a stamp in their passports that says they can go home.
25th December
Despite being kept waiting for 30 minutes in a cab while [French activist] Franky Pisanu had coffee + ciggies, we made it to the Investigative Committee in time. Process was quick and 3 of us with our respective lawyers departed at 12:00 with our copies of signed amnesty. This officially halts the prosecution case against us. What a very strange Christmas morning. Off to the migration service at 3pm to hopefully complete the final process of this farce + get an exit visa.
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