In prison, people can easily be killed for something like this. They can simply throw you into the punishment cell (SHIZO, a Russian solitary confinement punishment unit) and beat you to death. In the eyes of the prison administration, it looks far too brazen. So far, though, I’m getting off with a special commission issuing me a reprimand every day. And I’ve also been officially “warned” against committing a crime I am allegedly preparing. And all I did was create a trade union for prisoners and prison staff. Seriously. And we already have some victories. Hi, this is Navalny — leader and founder of the trade union of citizens employed at enterprises of the penal system, “Promzona.” Why not? I’m a prison colony worker. A seamster. And the other inmates are workers too. And the guards are colony employees too. From the standpoint of labor rights, there is no difference between us. We can create a trade union to defend our rights. Those who have followed my work know that I’m a big supporter of trade unions. It’s extremely important to fight for higher wages and better working conditions. We’ve helped trade unions a lot, and I know how difficult — and often simply dangerous — the work of a truly independent, militant union can be. Well, if I urged others to do it, then I should do it myself too, even in the most dangerous possible place for it, where strikes, disobedience, and assemblies are explicitly forbidden. Under the current rules, if you go on strike here, they’ll throw you into the punishment cell. And most likely they’ll torture you too (that part, admittedly, is not in the rules but rather an old tradition). So that’s that. I drew up the documents and sent notice of the union’s creation to the director of the Federal Penitentiary Service (FSIN) and the head of my prison colony. My first reward was the wild look in the administration staff’s eyes. They thought I was joking when I talked about the union. And now they refer to it exclusively as “illegal.” Then they started summoning me to the disciplinary commission every day and issuing reprimands for all sorts of formal reasons: improper dress code, and so on. Then an entire delegation came to my barracks and solemnly presented me with a “warning about a crime being prepared” (in the carousel). So apparently, by creating a trade union, that’s the crime I’m preparing. To be honest, the inmates were even more frightened of the union than the administration was. _______________________ Every time I start talking about him, my killers say sadly: “Alexei, please stop. Because of you, we’ll never get out, and this will all end badly.” Well, joining a union is voluntary. I’m not forcing anyone. My union will defend the rights of workers even if they don’t join it 😉 But for now, every time I say “union,” someone nearby—whether an inmate or a guard—quickly adds: “of one person.” Okay. A union of one person. Not bad either. Better than no union at all. There are about 600,000 people imprisoned in Russia right now. The vast majority of them work. And this is essentially slave labor—almost unpaid, in terrible conditions. Yes, most of these workers are prisoners (though many are innocent), but they are supposed to serve their sentence according to the law—and work according to the rules. Do you know what my monthly wage is? 5,173 rubles and 4 kopeks. And that’s a HUGE salary. I’m not joking. Others in my brigade earn much less. How can we go without a union? We need one. And it’s already bringing real benefits. The “Industrial Zone” has a major victory: we got stools replaced. If you sit at a sewing machine for 7–8 hours a day, believe me, that matters. According to labor standards, a sewing workstation should be equipped with a rotating chair with an adjustable backrest. In reality, all inmate seamstresses sit on stools. Mine was 42 cm high. It’s unbearable—real torture—and after a couple of years it guarantees serious back problems. Without any scandal or noise, our brave union entered into constructive dialogue with the employer—the prison system. I (with the help of ACF lawyers, of course) legally proved that we are entitled to chairs with backrests. At first, this caused confusion. After all, prisoners are supposed to suffer. Then they even started lying, saying we were already sitting on chairs with backrests (nice try, right?). And then—ta-da!—chairs with backrests were brought into the workshop, and the cursed stools were taken away. Constructive work! Everyone is happy (well, almost). Now one of the tasks of the “Industrial Zone” is to calmly and constructively ensure that stools are replaced with chairs with backrests throughout the entire facility, then across the region, and eventually for all seamstresses in prisons across Russia. All in all, if life gives me a lemon in the form of a prison sentence, I should turn it into lemonade—at least into something useful for society. I’ll keep writing about the adventures of our inmate union (and you can tell me in the comments whether you’re interested). And like any real union, the “Industrial Zone” has its own media—a Telegram channel with the same name: @industrial_zone (link in stories). There’s also feedback—if you’re a lucky inmate with mobile access, you can write to us. For now, we’ve posted the founding documents there, as well as a warning and a guide for inmates who also work in sewing workshops and want to replace stools with chairs with adjustable backrests. That’s the news. Greetings to all unions, workers, and blue-collar folks. Long live workers’ solidarity 😉