A CANNON stands pointing out to sea in front of Odessa’s town hall. It is a trophy recovered from the British Royal Navy’s HMS Tiger which, during the Crimean war, ran aground here in 1854 and was then destroyed by the city’s Russian defenders. Inside the town hall, officials are now planning the defence of the Ukrainian city of 1m people, this time from the Russians. In the past week six Russian amphibious assault ships have entered the Black Sea and Odessa’s commercial ports are to be throttled this week as Russia closes maritime access for “exercises”.
On February 10th The Economist was present as the city’s mayor, Gennadiy Trukhanov, presided over a meeting of local municipal and defence officials. High on the agenda was replacing defunct Soviet-era air filtration systems in the city’s 353 bomb shelters. German officials have offered help, and the mayor says he is going to ask them for these. American officials have also asked Ukraine’s mayors what they need and Odessa plans to ask for emergency communications equipment. Many officials are making plans in case all telecommunications are cut in the event of war. In the worst-case scenario Odessa’s citizens will be informed of what to do by officials armed with loudhailers and stationed on every block.
Mr Trukhanov is a former soldier and clearly comfortable taking the helm in a crisis. He is however tied down by corruption charges and allegations that he is a former mafia gang member. He angrily dismisses these accusations as lies. In the meantime, he has a message for Russia’s president if he is thinking of attacking Odessa. “We have not asked anyone to come here and I would ask Mr Putin not to do it.”
In 2014, when Ukraine was in the throes of revolution and Crimea had just been seized by Russia, there was a high chance that Odessa would also fall to pro-Russian separatists because there was considerable sympathy then for Russia in the city. On May 2nd of that year pro-revolution and pro-Russian demonstrators clashed and 42 of the latter died in a fire, trapped in the city’s trade-union building. The event was a turning point in the struggle for southern Ukraine. Many pro-Russians decided that they neither wanted to die for Russia nor see their city racked by conflict.
Ever since, says Viktoria Balasanian, a sociologist, pro-Russians have kept a low profile. She points out that being Russian-speaking and having an affinity with things Russian does not by any means automatically translate into wanting Odessa, which has its own strong identity, to be part of Russia. Thirty years after independence, she says pro-Russians tend to be older and nostalgic for a Soviet youth that they associate with Russia. The vast majority of younger Odessans, who have no memory of the old superpower, are proud to be Ukrainian.
Artem Fylypenko, head of the Odessa branch of the National Institute for Strategic Studies, says that there were successful amphibious landings in Odessa in 1919 by White Russian forces and a Soviet diversionary attack in 1941. He says Mr Putin could try the same “but then what?” Unlike in 2014, Ukraine’s armed and other security forces are well organised and will fight—as will he.
Most Odessans will be passive, though, and wait to see what happens. “If you go for a walk around the city centre, you will see that nobody is crying, everybody is relaxing and chilling,” says Viacheslav Levchenko, a software programmer. What if this calm is misplaced, and an invasion really is coming? “I will just take my passport, my family, sit in my car and go to Europe,” says Mr Levchenko.
Oleg Brindak, the deputy mayor, says that up to a third of the city’s 64 city councillors hold pro-Russian views and he worries that in case of a war some might try to organise pro-Russian protests or seize buildings. But, he adds, the situation has changed since 2014. Pro-Ukrainian “patriotism” has grown and, with a nod to the breakaway Russian-supported Donetsk and Luhansk republics in the east, he says, “There will be no Odessa republic for sure.”