In a region beset by upheaval and misfortune, coal miners who take pride in their grit and self-reliance have found at least one silver lining in changes sweeping over their land. The rebel government has decided to allow private mining, a once-illegal but nevertheless widespread practice in Ukraine’s east.”
SNIZHNE, Ukraine — Outside Vladimir Moroz’s snug little brick home, winter and hardship grip war-stricken eastern Ukraine. Money is scarce, the store shelves are bare and an icy wind whips over the snowy steppe.
Inside, a retired miner smiles broadly. He peels off his gloves and flexes his cold-stiffened hands over a stove and his prized, glowing, once-illicit source of warmth: backyard coal dug from dangerous, unregulated mines.
In a region plagued by upheaval and misfortune, coal miners who take pride in their grit and self-reliance have found at least one silver lining in changes sweeping over their land. The rebel government has decided to allow private mining, a long-stigmatized, legally proscribed but nevertheless widespread practice in Ukraine’s east.
“I have my own potatoes, my own carrots, my own cabbage and my own mine,” Mr. Moroz said, referring to the dank pit under a shed out back. “This is how we live.”
Deep in the backcountry of Donbass, as the rebellious region of eastern Ukraine is known, rich seams of coal undulate just under the hills. In places, kicking back the topsoil with a boot reveals glistening layers of coal, as mysterious and alluring to these miners as onyx.
Luhansk
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Aleksei broke ground on this mine in June, as all semblance of mining regulation broke down with the onset of war. He sells the coal to local electrical power stations, and the four men of the crew take a share to heat their homes.
Before the revolution in the east, he said, corrupt police officers “took bribes like it was their last day on earth.” After the change of government, he said, the miners walked right into the tax office and said, “ ‘We want to mine,’ and they said, ‘Fine, but pay your tax.’ ”
As another bathtub of coal clattered to the surface, Aleksei pointed out that he had nothing to hide. “We’re a small business now,” he said. “We’re legal.”
Outside Ukraine this town is known, if at all, as the spot where, NATO analysts say, pro-Russian rebels launched an antiaircraft rocket that brought down a Malaysia Airlines passenger jet last summer. The front is now west of here, but in the summer, artillery duels were fought in and around the town, and locals took refuge in the mines.
Some of the mines, like Aleksei’s, are mini-businesses. Others are family affairs, like the shaft Mr. Moroz sunk with a pick and shovel into his garden and shares with a neighbor.
He is happy the business has come above ground, but he still sees drawbacks. “At the state mine, you get paid for black lung,” he said. “Out here, you get nothing.”
