Russia's
Growing Religious Repression
By Lawrence Uzzell
When Moscow airport police blocked Roman Catholic bishop Jerzy Mazur
from returning to his diocese in Siberia last Friday, they confirmed a
startling new reality: Almost overnight, Russia's Catholic minority
has caught up with the Protestants as a target of repression. Despite
President Vladimir Putin's often genuinely pro-Western moves in
foreign policy, including his high-profile overtures to the Vatican,
at home Russians' basic freedoms are continuing to shrink, in religion
as in other areas.
The
surge of anti-Catholic measures has gathered strength in recent weeks.
Father Stefano Caprio of Milan, who serves Catholic parishes in two
cities near Moscow, had his multiple-entry visa ripped out of his
passport at Moscow's Sheremetyevo Airport on April 5. Father Michael
Shields from the United States has been told that his parish on
Russia's Pacific coast will be liquidated, because he does not have a
residence permit. The Keston News Service, which monitors threats to
religious freedom across the former Soviet Union, reports that the
city of Pskov in western Russia has halted the construction of a new
Catholic church building.
For
Protestants, this sort of thing is not new. During the past two years
Keston has been finding cases of American and other foreign Protestant
missionaries arbitrarily denied visas to return to Russia -- some,
such as Baptist pastor Dan Pollard, cut off from congregations or
charitable programs that they themselves had founded. Since the
mid-1990s, local authorities have more and more often denied
Protestant congregations the right to rent rooms for prayer meetings
in public buildings -- a serious deprivation in a country where most
large buildings are state-owned.
Unfortunately,
in Russia as elsewhere, the various religious minorities have not
always been vigorous in defending each other's rights of conscience,
thus allowing the state to play "divide and rule." In 1997
Pope John Paul II wrote to Boris Yeltsin requesting that Russian law
formally classify Catholicism as one of the country's
"traditional religions," leaving the Protestants out in the
cold, even though Lutherans, Baptists and others had a substantial
pre-Soviet presence in Russia.
Yeltsin
ignored that request, and the harsh legislation he signed that year
was equally threatening to Protestants and Catholics, in theory. In
practice, Catholics in Russia have experienced fewer problems than
Protestants over the past five years, for purely political reasons.
The very structure of the Roman Catholic Church, a unified, worldwide
organization with millions of members in countries with which Russia
wants good relations, makes it a tougher target than the splintered
Protestant denominations.
Western
Protestants have succumbed to similar temptations. They often seem
more interested in defending the rights of American and other foreign
missionaries than those of indigenous Russian Protestants, such as the
independent "initsiativniki" Baptists, who
valiantly refused all forms of compromise with the Soviet state.
Sometimes their behavior plays right into the hands of Russian
authorities, who portray all minority faiths as new and alien.
For
example, Russian nationalists like to depict Roman Catholicism as an
almost completely novel presence in Russia, introduced by
"proselytizing" clergy from the West only after the collapse
of the Soviet Union. The very architecture of provincial Russia gives
them the lie. In 1996 I visited a manifestly Western-style Catholic
church building in Irkutsk, near Siberia's Lake Baikal; it looked as
exotic in that setting as Russian onion domes would in Dublin. But the
Catholic parish in Irkutsk dates to the mid-19th century, when it was
founded by the local Polish community.
In
trying to restore the hundreds of parishes within the boundaries of
today's Russian Federation that the Soviet regime forcibly disbanded,
the Catholics are simply trying to rebuild what they had before 1917.
But because there was no seminary in Russia to train indigenous
Catholic clergy until the 1990s, most of the priests serving there are
foreigners, for the time being -- largely Poles, who, unfortunately,
are especially suspect to many Russians.
Russia's
1993 constitution clearly states that all religious associations are
equal under the law and that both citizens and non-citizens legally
present on Russian soil have full religious freedom. This of course is
the same constitution that guarantees freedom of the press, which also
has declined under Putin. Even if his officials should reverse
themselves on the high-profile case of Bishop Mazur, the prospects for
establishing genuine rule of law in Russia will continue to look
bleak.
The
writer is head of the Oxford-based Keston Institute (www.keston.org),
an independent research center specializing in international religious
freedom.