A day and a half out in the open and then taken hostage by the occupiers: what the Cabinet of Ministers’ order meant for Crimeans

“Yes, he was sleeping on the street. And there was no water. Do you know how windy it is there, in Kalanchak? It’s always like that there. Spring—you can see for yourselves what it’s like. At least the border guards let the woman and her child into their ‘booth’ to warm up. They’ve got some ‘solid buildings’ there, but it’s still warmer.”Anton Paramonov, a Crimean resident, tells the story of his father, who waited for a day and a half at the border with occupied Crimea, hoping to return to his new home in the Kyiv region. But, like dozens of other Ukrainians, he was forced to remain in the occupied territory—it’s unclear for how long or under what dangers. This family’s story is not unique. There are dozens, if not more, such families, and they have all been left in limbo due to a decree by the Cabinet of Ministers of Ukraine, adopted as part of quarantine measures. Read more about this in the article.

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At the start of the anti-epidemic restrictions—on March 14—the Cabinet of Ministers issued a decree “On the Temporary Suspension of Checkpoints forentry into and exit from the temporarily occupied territory of the Autonomous Republic of Crimea and the city of Sevastopol, aimed at preventing the spread within Ukraine of the acute respiratory disease COVID-19 caused by SARS-CoV-2.” In theory, the document was supposed to promote the safety and health of Ukrainian citizens, but in practice, it made it impossible to return from Crimea to government-controlled territory and vice versa.

This is precisely the situation faced by the family of Anton Paramonov, who left Crimea after the occupation, and whose parents also left the peninsula a year and a half ago. At the same time, they left behind real estate in Crimea that needs to be put in order in order to be sold.

“It’s not easy for Crimeans to move to ‘mainland’ Ukraine, because they essentially have to start from scratch. If you’re young and healthy, it’s not so bad—though it’s still difficult—but when you’re a family of retirees, you want to at least get something for your home, which rightfully belongs to you. It’s no secret that Ukraine isn’t helping Crimeans who don’t want to live under occupation—but, unfortunately, it turns out that it’s actually getting in the way,” says Anton.

He and his father traveled to Crimea, planning to sort out some of the paperwork regarding the property and then return home. However, on April 29, the Russian authorities issued a document stating that anyone who was in Crimea had the right to leave—but only once, until the quarantine in Russia ended. Anton and his father decided to take advantage of this immediately, since their family was still in Kyiv, and it was unclear exactly how long the quarantine would last. Russian border guards let the Crimeans through, noting that they had left the peninsula—that is, they had used their one-time right to leave—but an unpleasant surprise awaited them on the Ukrainian side.

“It was April 30, right on the eve of the May holidays, and no one really cared that we couldn’t return to Crimea—they wouldn’t let us back in a second time. My documents were acceptable to the Ukrainian border guards, but my parents’ were not, for some reason. We spent hours trying to figure out why, out in the cold, with no hope and nowhere to wait. I called the Border Guard Service’s “hotline,” where they told me that the shift supervisor was responsible for issuing the pass. But the border guards helplessly spread their hands, nodding toward some higher-up who supposedly wouldn’t allow my father to cross the demarcation line. I called the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Border Guard Service’s helpline, and the government’s “1545” hotline. You won’t believe it, but when I called the Cabinet of Ministers, they referred me… to the Ukrainian Embassy in the Russian Federation. We called volunteers, civic activists, and journalists—we were just banging our heads against a wall. And we weren’t the only ones there. We weren’t the only ones who weren’t allowed through. “We were freezing out in the open, exposed to the wind; there was nowhere to get water. We were exhausted and realized that nobody cared about us,” recalls our interviewee.

While he was trying to help his father, another problem arose—one that government officials are unlikely to have considered: cell service at the checkpoint is very poor. Not only does this make it difficult to call dozens of “hotlines,” the technical issue also prevents people from installing the “Diy Vdoma” mobile app, which everyone entering government-controlled territory in Ukraine is required to install if they don’t want to go into quarantine.

“People couldn’t install the app, so after passing through the checkpoint, border guards sent them to a two-week quarantine in the nearest city. Fortunately, some border guards helped us as best they could, providing Wi-Fi, which allowed me to finally install the app and return home to Kyiv, where I am currently in self-isolation. But these are all minor details compared to the fact that my father, after spending a day and a half out in the open there, was forced to go to Crimea, where he is now also in a two-week quarantine and has no idea when he’ll be able to return to my mom and grandmother —after all, he took advantage of the one-time opportunity Russia offered,” Anton explains.

According to him, at least ten Ukrainian citizens were forced to return to Crimea along with his father, while another of our “fellow sufferers” missed the funeral of a loved one because they waited 15 hours at the checkpoint.

Other citizens report similar experiences:

“I was denied entry into Ukraine in the same way. Moreover, Ukrainian border guards didn’t give anyone a written denial. They just tell you verbally, after you’ve waited a day or more: ‘We’re not letting you in; go back.’ Just a verbal statement. How can I challenge this in court? How can I prove that I was even there at all? Who will assess the emotional and financial harm caused to me by such verbal denials? There are more questions than answers. And most importantly—when did we become so unwelcome in Ukraine that it’s possible to return right now from Moscow or Krasnodar, but not from the Ukrainian part of Crimea?” asks Olga P., a Crimean resident, indignantly.

“I, too, have faced this legal arbitrariness and violation of my constitutional rights as a citizen of Ukraine. I am registered as a resident of Crimea and hold an internally displaced person certificate; I live in Kharkiv. On March 29, I intended to cross the demarcation line through the Chongar checkpoint to return to Kharkiv, but I was denied passage, citing a decree from the Cabinet of Ministers. When I argued that this order contradicts the Constitution of Ukraine and restricts my rights as a citizen, I received no response. I called the shift supervisor and asked for a written denial so I could file an appeal. But I was told, “We don’t issue written denials.” It was nighttime, and none of the hotline numbers were answering. I filed a complaint on the State Border Guard Service’s website; more than a month has passed, but there has been no response,” says Oleksandr P.

After the Cabinet of Ministers’ order was issued, it was challenged in court. The lawsuit was filed with the Kyiv District Administrative Court byYulia Lisova, a human rights advocate and legal advisor at the Community Center for Justice in Tatarbunary (Odesa Oblast). However, the court did not open proceedings immediately but only after media coverage—on April 24—scheduling a preliminary hearing for June 2.

In the lawsuit, the attorney demands that the order be declared unlawful and be revoked, noting that the ban specifically targeting Crimeans discriminates against Ukrainian citizens based on their place of registration, since all other citizens are not prohibited from traveling within the country or entering and leaving it.

“This is yet another instance of discrimination against Crimeans. At a difficult time, the state has effectively abandoned them. Furthermore, it has restricted access to Crimea from ‘mainland’ Ukraine, thereby preventing family members from helping one another. Such actions reveal the authorities’ true attitude toward Crimea and the Ukrainian citizens whose lives are tied to it—not the loud public statements about their support,” the human rights activist asserts.

Furthermore, the court’s lack of urgency in scheduling a preliminary hearing for June 2 is somewhat surprising:

“The legislature has not established specific requirements regarding the timing of court proceedings in cases related to quarantine, unlike, for example, the electoral process, where courts are required to hear cases with the utmost urgency. Therefore, the court will most likely issue any decision only after the quarantine has been lifted. But we must not forget that the law speaks of reasonable timeframes for the consideration of court cases, and this principle should be applied here. Nevertheless, we will still seek to have the order declared unlawful and discriminatory against Ukrainian citizens, and subsequently seek to compensate people for the damages caused by this utterly ill-considered decision. It does nothing to promote public safety—after all, is a resident of, say, Yalta really more dangerous from an epidemiological standpoint than someone from Moscow or Rostov? But it certainly contributes to the alienation of Crimeans and a dismissive attitude toward our citizens, who in no way deserve this,” Yulia Lisova is convinced.

Taking into account the feedback from many people whose rights were violated by this decree of the Cabinet of Ministers of Ukraine, as well as the failure to observe reasonable time limits during the court proceedings to overturn this decision, the Community Justice Center in Tatarbunary has sent corresponding appeals to the Ukrainian Parliament Commissioner for Human Rights, the UN Human Rights Monitoring Mission, and other national and international human rights institutions.

The activities of the Community Justice Center in Tatarbunary are implemented bythe Odesa Regional Organization of the All-Ukrainian Public Organization “Committee of Voters of Ukraine” with financial support from the European Union as part of the project “Community Justice Center as a Multifunctional Platform for the Development of Justice in Communities.”