Sometimes It Takes A Ukrainian To Do What An American Won't

Not many people have to look for reasons to support Ukraine in their battle against Puto's, I mean Putin's, invasion.  Even so, I will offer one more.  

A Ukranian prosecutor has done something law enforcement officials and the justice system in the US rarely, if ever, do.  Prosecutor General Iryna Venediktova has filed to indict someone for killing a cyclist.

Of course, the circumstances are a bit different from the all-too-typical DUI hit-and-run or the MAGAt in a pickup truck who plows into an organized bike ride. So far, the victim in this case has been identified only as a 62-year-old Ukranian civilian who was riding his bike home in the Sumy region of the country when Russian militants shot him in February, shortly after Putain's, I mean Putin's, invasion begin.

Veneditkova announced her action Wednesday on social media websites.  Her indictment of one of those soldiers--identified as Vadim Shishimarin--is the first of a soldier for killing a civilian during the conflict.  If convicted, he could face 10 to 15 years or life, depending on the charge. 

A cyclist in Debaltseve, Ukraine, 20 February 2015. Photo by Vadim Ghirda for AP.

It's terrible that someone riding his bike didn't make it home because soldiers shot him.  I feel bad for his loved ones, whoever they are.  But it's good to know that a prosecutor is actually trying to bring his killers to account--even if she's charging one of them for a war crime (at least, as I understand the definition of that term) rather than a crime against a cyclist.  

Cyclist: A Survivor In Mariupol

Yesterday I wrote about the world's first acid trip, which Dr. Albert Hofmann took, if unwittingly, on his bike ride home.

If you've ever been on an "acid trip," you know that it can include visions heavenly or hellish.  The latter could describe what this cyclist--who, I assume, was not under the influence of LSD or any other substance--exprienced:

Photo by Alexander Ermochencko, for Reuters

Reports I've read and heard say that Mariupol, a port city in Ukraine, has been "wiped off the face of the earth," or words to that effect.  I have no reason to doubt such reports:  The reports and accompanying images show steel stick-figures, the skeletons of destroyed buildings and rubble everywhere.  And though there is death and destruction everywhere, thankfully, many have survived.  Their lives, like the ride of that cyclist, will go on.

He Doesn't Support The Invasion. He Just Wants To Build His Bikes.

French authorities have seized a cargo ship near the English Channel port of Boulogne sur Mer.  That vessel is owned by a Russian bank whose CEO is the son of his country's former chief intelligence officer and served as prime minister. At the other end of the country, les douaniers grabbed a Russian oligarch's superyacht parked for repair in a Mediterranean port.  The country's security officials believe that the boat's owner, as well as those of other vessels docked in the area, were preparing to flee to the Maldives, which doesn't have an extradition treaty with the US or most European countries.

In New York and London, officials exploring ways to take the co-ops, condos and other real estate owned by Putain-, I mean Putin-connected billionaires in those cities.  And measures have been taken to keep those uber-rich Russians from accessing their bank accounts, stock holdings and other assets.

Such moves make headlines.  So does talk about sanctions, though the actual and possible results of them aren't as widely known.  One reason is that those sanctions, which devalue the ruble and prevent Russian exports of everything from natural gas to vodka, affect everyday people who are mostly invisible to anyone outside of their communities and country.

Among those everyday Russians is Dmitry Nechaev.  You probably haven't heard of him, but you may have seen his work:  He custom-builds titanium frames under the name Triton. Perhaps not surprisingly, most of his sales are to cyclists outside of his home country. But, during the past twelve weeks, he says, he hasn't received a single foreign order.  

Although the sanctions--which prevent him from receiving payments via PayPal, among other things-- would explain the past couple of weeks, his sales drought began earlier, when rumors trickled out of Russia.  Even if he'd had orders, he wouldn't have been able to build frames because, like his frame-building peers in the US and other countries, he depends on foreign suppliers.  Paragon Machine Works, a frame-part supplier, could not ship to Nechaev and other Russian builders and manufacturers because Federal Express and DHL stopped shipping to Russia.

So Nechaev, who emphatically condemns the Russian invasion of the Ukraine (and is of Ukranian and Jewish heritage via his mother) realized that he could no longer work from his Sochi shop.  Because he holds an Israeli as well as a Russian passport, he fled to Tel Aviv last week.  He has bought a car to pick up fellow Russian refugees from the airport and plans to leave a note at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem.

He plans to continue building his bikes, but he doesn't know where just yet.  It's difficult not to believe he's thinking of the USA.  In the meantime, he's asking for support from the industry.  Specifically, he appealed to the fact that he, like them and nearly everyone else, opposes the invasion and expressed hope that suppliers and customers in the US and other countries will continue working with him.

How Should The Cycling Community Respond To The Ukraine Invasion?

 In response to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, the United States and several other countries (including, ironically, the then-new enemy of the US, the Ayatollah Khomieni-led Iran) boycotted the 1980 Summer Olympics, which were held in Moscow.

Some  hailed the boycott as a strong statement of principle.  Others thought they unfairly penalized athletes, particularly those in sports for which the Games are the most prominent stage—and the end-point of athletes’ careers, especially in sports as diverse as gymnastics, wrestling and, yes, bicycle racing (at least for countries like the US that didn’t have professional racing circuits).

That last point makes an article in Velo News all the more interesting and relevant. “Where does the line end and begin between sports and politics?” Andrew Hood wonders.

Specifically, he relates that question to Putain’s, I mean Puto’s, I mean Putain’s, invasion of Ukraine.  Very astutely, he points out that while the Union Cyclisme Internationale’s  condemnation is laudable, it actually won’t do much to pressure the Russian sports establishment or government, let alone Putin himself.

While there are a number of world-class Russian cyclists—in particular, sprinters—there aren’t any major UCI-sanctioned road races—which, let’s face it, are the most-followed events in the sport—in Russia.  Moreover, there aren’t any major bike brands with a sizable market outside the country.

In brief, a full-on boycott by the UCI or any other cycling body will do more to hurt individual Russian racers, just as the 1980 Olympic boycott penalized individual athletes—and, arguably, accomplished nothing beyond a retaliatory boycott of the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics.