Fighting Mankind's Worst Enemy

Some 450 years ago, just a few months after the 16-year-old Grand Prince Ivan IV (“The Terrible”) crowned himself tsar, a horrible fire leveled Moscow. Since that time, Moscow has burned to the ground 12 more times and large parts of it have been destroyed in over 100 instances. On the anniversary of the Great Fire of Moscow, Yelena Utenkova looks at why fires have had such a dramatic effect on Russian life and what is being done to stop them.

Nikolai Gogol said that, in Russia, there are two great disasters — roads and fools. Alexander Koryukhin, head of the information division of the Moscow Firefighters’ Association, argues that there is a third — fires.

Last year in Russia, fires killed 17,000 people and caused R27 trillion ($5.4 bn) in damage. In Russia, on average, some 600 fires break out every day, killing two people every hour. In 1996, in Moscow alone, 21,696 fires were registered, with a death toll of 416 persons and damages estimated at more than R74 billion. [By way of comparison, in 1995, according to the US Fire Administration, there were some 260,150 structure fires reported in the US, working out to some 700 building fires per day (there were also nearly 600,000 non-structure-related fires), which killed 1,588 persons and caused $4.2 bn in damage.]

For Whom the Bell Tolls...

As these statistics indicate, fires in Russia are serious business. And so they have been throughout history. In ancient times, Russians built their homes primarily of wood, packed together like sardines in a can, so that, when one house caught fire, a whole village could go up in smoke. For a long time, Moscow did not even have a fire brigade and the residents themselves had to put out fires. Everyone pitched in — in fact, refusal to help in fighting a fire was punishable by corporal punishment and imprisonment. However, the means for extinguishing these fires were so primitive and the people so ignorant that, after large fires, great cities were often reduced to fields. As was the case with Moscow 13 times over the last 450 years.

In pre-industrial Russia, when fires broke out, people were warned by the ringing of an alarm bell. One could tell what part of the city was burning by the sound of the bells — the louder the sound, the more important the place. At the end of the 17th century, Tsar Aleksei Mikhailovich published a special decree: “If the Kremlin catches fire, the bells should automatically be rung three times. Soon the bells in the rest of the city and both ends of the Spassky will ring, but softer...”

The last great fire in Moscow occurred in September 1812, during the war against Napoleon. French troops took over the city after almost all its residents had fled. On the very next day, a devastating fire broke out. The center of Moscow was reduced to ashes. Out of the 9,000 Moscow houses existing at that time, some 6,500 were destroyed. To this day, no one knows for sure how the fire started. According to one version, the residents themselves set their city on fire to deny Napoleon the spoils. Another rumor has it that the French occupants were to blame. While yet another, echoed by Tolstoy in “War and Peace,” has it that “the mother of Russian cities” burned because any empty city, left without supervision, must burn.

Every Boy’s Dream

Russia’s first special firefighting detachment was established by Alexander I, in 1804, “for dispatching night watchmen and forming a special team of firefighters made up of retired soldiers no longer capable of serving at the front.” Service on this team lasted 25 years (the same as for military conscripts). Ever since, Russian firefighters have been a subdivision of the military, though this service is now voluntary.

Some eighty years previous, in the 1720s, construction of Russia’s first fire depots had begun. In cities throughout Russia, fire towers sprang up — imposing structures second in height only to church towers. From lookout points on these towers, the whole city was spread out below like a picture book — any large fire was readily visible.

The first fire charter in Russia came out 140 years ago, and, from that time on, firefighting came to be a highly respected business. The royal family took Russian firefighters under its wing, and the journals Pozharnoe delo (Fire Business) and Pozharny (Fire) began circulation. A special firefighters’ uniform was introduced. It was one of the most beautiful in the Russian empire. The braidmeister (the head of a fire brigade) wore a gilded bronze helmet with the army’s coat of arms, along with a dress half-caftan of dark green cloth, embroidered with silver thread, a chrome sword and boots. An ordinary fireman would wear a bronze helmet and a gray half-caftan, with light blue shoulder straps. Their shining helmets made a strong impression. Young women engaged to firemen were the envy of their friends. And, of course, almost all young boys dreamed of growing up to be firefighters.

In general, in large cities where fire departments were created by order of the tsar, such departments flourished. But, in Russia as a whole, the state of fire prevention was far from satisfactory. The USSR’s National Firefighting Service was inaugurated on May 24, 1918, when Lenin signed a decree on “the organization of government firefighting measures.” This day was later chosen as the firefighters’ professional holiday.

New Times, Old Problems

Just over a month ago, a group of American firefighters from Los Angeles got a first-hand look at how difficult the firefighting situation is in Russia, when they visited Moscow to observe their Russian colleagues on the job. According to Koryukhin, of the Moscow Firefighters’ Association, the Americans were unanimous in their conclusion that firefighting conditions in Russia are much worse than in America. There are a variety of reasons for this.

First, according to data from the High Technical School of the Interior Ministry (MVD), 5% of all Russian apartments have been turned into small warehouses. Residents store gasoline, lacquer, old newspapers and magazines, and other flammable items in their apartments. This is compounded by the growth in crime, which has led Russians to make their apartments into impenetrable fortresses. Corridors on each floor are closed in by armored doors. Apartments are equipped with state-of-the-art locks, often more secure than bank vaults. At times, firefighters have trouble breaking into a burning apartment when dwellers need urgent help.

Second, economic hardship and a decline in social order has taken its toll. The fire equipment in many apartment buildings is obsolete or out of order. Alarm signals don’t work, hoses are not connected and cars are parked on top of hatches where firefighters hook up their equipment. In Moscow, 50% of firefighting equipment is obsolete, and the situation on a national scale is even less encouraging.

And yet, somehow, Moscow’s firefighters seem to cope. On February 25, 1996, Moscow experienced its worst fire in ten years, when a warehouse of the Moscow Pneumatic Tire Factory burned. Over 15,000 square meters of space was destroyed, containing enough rubber, sulfur and chemical reagents to make a million tires. Material damage was estimated at more than R50 billion ($10 mn) and could have been much more, had the fire spread to nearby residential areas. Fortunately, firefighters managed to contain the blaze, even though they lacked the special foam-generating equipment needed to extinguish hot rubber (on which water is virtually useless).

Moscow firefighters do have one unique and advanced piece of firefighting equipment in their arsenal, however. It is a special helicopter that can be used to extinguish fires 24 hours a day, and, according to Koryukhin, it made a deep impression on the recent US visitors. The helicopter can take an especially heavy load, and its shape enables it to fly up to balconies and roofs to pick up fire victims. As the Moscow firefighting team has only two fire ladders which can reach up as high as the 22nd floor (and even they cannot be completely unfolded in windy weather), a helicopter which can both drop off firefighters and extinguish fires with airborne water cannons comes in handy.

Third, Russians are not taught fire safety. Nor do they respect fire security rules. According to Koryukhin, the state has not developed a coherent system of fire awareness, whereas all foreigners are well informed about how to behave during a fire. While all Russians can recall the childhood motto that was the basis of their “anti-fire education” — Spichki detyam ne igrushka (“matches are not children’s toys”), this is about as far as the “education” went. “Therefore,” Koryukhin said, “I can’t cite a single example over the last few years when foreign citizens have suffered in a fire.” The comparative figures are indeed startling: in Russia, there are some 78 deaths per 1000 fires; in the US, that number is 2.4.

Finally, there is the effect of the Russian penchant for drinking binges, and the rising tide of alcoholism. Russia now has an annual, per capita hard alcohol consumption rate of 14 liters. This means more accidents, more drunks falling asleep without putting out cigarettes, and more “holiday fires” that get started from unextinguished cookout fires — the number of forest fires in Russia has virtually doubled as compared to last year.

Shortages of qualified personnel, while not a problem at present, do loom on the horizon. For now, salaries of firefighters are competitive ($170 to $190 per month, plus a so-called ‘Luzhkov bonus’ of $35 — named after Moscow’s popular mayor), and the Higher Engineering and Technical School (the fire school) has no problem finding recruits. But if the government has its way and tax benefits for servicemen are abolished, enrollment could drop drastically.

Privatization also awaits. Since the Russian army is short of personnel, firefighting units are gradually and painstakingly being switched to a contract system. As the last fire-servicemen finish up their tours of firefighting duty, the end of an era approaches. It is less than certain that there will be a wealth of candidates volunteering to take on such a dangerous job for a relatively small salary.

As it is, many fire fighting teams are forced to respond to alarms by sending only two or three people, instead of the seven specified in the charter.

With Moscow expanding every year, a firefighting squad often arrives as much as ten or twelve minutes after a fire is reported. In a move to remedy this situation, in 1991 the Moscow government developed a program to increase the number of firefighting units. Over the first three years, this program was fully implemented, but last year only four units were set up, instead of the twelve planned. This year the situation is even more “complicated.”

Playing with Fire

As if they didn’t have enough to worry about, Russian firefighters are plagued by false alarms, a traditional “distraction” of disturbed people and children. Over the first three months of this year, there were 2,937 false alarms in Moscow — almost 20% of the national total. Unfortunately, Russian lawmakers have not yet passed a law which would allow such people to be fined, even though the technology exists to pinpoint the source of any alarm call. If the call comes from a child, emergency operators explain that they will call the militia, who will fine his parents. As a rule, this works. But such measures do not work with adults.

Firefighters must also deal with bomb threats, which caused particular problems last summer. Then, a rash of false bomb threats occurred in connection with the deteriorating situation in Chechnya. False explosives were planted at airports, railway stations and in administrative buildings.

Arson is also a problem in Russia, accounting for 7% of all fires (in the US, the number is considerably higher, around 20%). Criminals will set fire to anything. And the infamous razborki (settling of accounts) between rival crime groups has added fuel to fire statistics. Even the US embassy has been a victim of arson. Last year, a middle-aged woman visited its consular section, poured gasoline on the floor and set it on fire. Security guards rushed to extinguish the flames, while the perpetrator walked out and disappeared in the crowd. To this day, her motives are unclear. Maybe she was denied a visa, firefighters joke bitterly.

An Historical Puzzle

In addition to the distant anniversary of the Great Fires of 1812 and 1547, this year also marks the anniversary of a more recent fire. Twenty years ago — in the winter of 1977 — a devastating fire broke out in Moscow’s centrally-located Rossiya hotel. The blaze spread from the 5th to the 22nd floor, with some 1,000 people trapped by the flames. Saving these victims proved to be extremely difficult, because the fire stairs only reached up to the 7th floor. As a result, 42 people died, including five firefighters. Another 52 were injured. The list of victims included such VIPs as the deputy foreign trade minister of Bulgaria and two Bulgarian trade counselors. The cause of the fire is still unknown.

Komsomolskaya Pravda, the popular daily newspaper, recently published a feature article, speculating on the possible causes of the disaster. The newspaper even suggested that the fire may have been the result of a razborka between the two rival law enforcement bodies of the time — the KGB and MVD. Another version has it that the Rossiya was set ablaze by dissidents protesting the Soviet regime, because delegates of a Communist Party plenary session were staying in the hotel at the time.

And finally, there is a version steeped in superstition. It turns out that the hotel was built in 1967 on the site of a torn-down orthodox cathedral. Ten years later, in 1977, the disastrous fire broke out. Another ten years passed, and then, in 1987, a TV set in a room caught fire. The guest fled in panic without informing hotel management and the flames spread. Although the fire was quickly extinguished, one woman died of asphyxia and one man received lethal burns. Therefore, according to the article, the hotel employees are awaiting the winter of 1997 with anxiety, hinting at some kind of divine retribution for spiritual sins.

While each of these versions seems wilder and more improbable than the next, the TV investigations of the disaster hit closer to home. Had the firefighters been issued with more efficient equipment, the reports suggested, the casualties would not have been so high. As for the spark which set the Rossiya burning, its source, as with so many other fires in Russian history, will probably remain a historical puzzle.

Between ill-informed and careless citizens, insufficient funds and recruitment problems, Russian firefighters today are in an unenviable position. But, in spite of all the difficulties, statistics shed a ray of hope. Over the first three months of 1997, the number of fires in Russia decreased by 15.4% in comparison with the same period last year, while the number of fire-related deaths decreased by 27.5%. Still, in that same time period, 116 people lost their lives. And, unless the Russian government magically comes up with more money to pump into fire safety and educational measures, it seems likely that “mankind’s worst enemy” will continue to cause deaths in Russia — deaths which are all the more tragic because so many might have been prevented.

Yelena Utenkova is a regular contributor to Russian Life. Her article, “The Most Privileged Class,” on childhood in Russia appeared in last month’s issue.