Remote struggle for Siberian lumberjacks

By Alan Quartly BBC, Moscow

Half a century ago, thousands of eager young workers rushed to the woods of eastern Siberia.

The new workforce that poured into the pine forests of Irkutsk region set about felling the trees and soon there was a vast timber industry sending wood across the length and breadth of the Soviet Union.

Lumberjacks and their families felt secure, living in villages that were essentially an extension of their companies. Everything was taken care of by the firm - heating, water, electricity, even keeping the roads swept.

Lumberjacks tend to their own supplies when they finish work

Now that industry is falling apart and the people are battling to survive.

Sergei Tomshin was one of those enthusiastic young lumberjacks.

"I was young. I liked the fishing, the hunting, the beautiful taiga. I was attracted by nature and that's why I stayed," he says.

Sitting in the kitchen of his wooden house in the village of Cape Ivan, Irkutsk, Sergei remembers the time when his family could afford what was sold in the shops and could even put a bit of money away in the bank.

Now, the average salary of the timber firm workers is R5,000 (around $170). Every lumberjack ends a gruelling day in the forest with hours at home tending cattle and pigs, or pickling vegetables.

"Everything we get goes on food and living expenses. Only a few kopeks are left over. You can't live if you don't have your own supplies at home," says Sergei.

"Everything is used up during the winter. The winter makes harsh demands - if you don't eat, you can't work and you'll freeze."

Crisis

In the wake of the Russian elections, for people like Sergei the word "democracy" or "election" just brings a cynical smile.

He is one of a bitter and impoverished majority beyond Moscow that believes its society was better under Stalin and has been robbed of its natural wealth by the so-called "oligarchs".

Being located here in this remote province, we're the only ones who can help ourselves to survive Natalya Kontsevya Timber firm manager

In his firm's head office in the village of Yurty, about 80km down the road, managing director Natalya Kontsevya nods understandingly.

She grew up around the timber company - her father was the boss for 25 years. She explains that the Siberian timber industry, 50 years on, is facing a crisis.

Over the last half-century, the wood reserves have been logged to exhaustion. The distance the lumberjacks need to travel now to find good quality wood means high transport costs, which in turn make the possible profits shrink and shrink.

She is battling to turn the finances of her company around, but feels neglected by the economic policies of the Moscow government.

The political stability apparently brought to Russia over the last three years, has not been mirrored in the economy at grass roots level, according to Natalya.

"Today business is not very well protected and, as a result, the people who run those businesses, they can't protect the people who work for them," says Natalya.

"Being located here in this remote province, we're the only ones who can help ourselves to survive. We'd like to get some help, but we wont' get it."

Transition

Over the last 10 years she has seen her firm be privatised, blackmailed by the local electricity provider, bankrupt and be re-formed again with a drastically reduced workforce - from nearly 2,000 in Soviet times, to a little over 300 now.

Her deputy is Andrei Romanenko - a ruddy-faced tough Siberian with one arm. He says that the company in Yurty has had to spend most of its own money in the last decade on the upkeep of the village where its workers live.

Few believe living standards are going to improve

In theory that's the job of the local authorities - but in post-Soviet Russia, these district councils rarely have enough cash to pay the bills.

"Things have got worse for the village," explains Andrei. "The local authorities haven't realised the burden of the work they have to carry out. We're still in a transition period."

As money changes hands in the local village shop for basic groceries and low-quality consumer goods, it's clear that the lumberjacks of this Siberian village are not yet seeing any benefits from Russia's market economy.

The only political posters on show in the shops and the company offices are for the pro-Kremlin United Russia party. Many of the lumberjacks who did vote in Sunday's Duma elections may well have put their crosses against candidates from President Putin's preferred party.

But the reality is that very few of these people - either employees or employers - believe that there will be much improvement in their standard of living in the next few years.