Russia’s New Mariupol: A City Built on Ashes and Silence

The construction of high-rise apartments in occupied Ukrainian city of Mariupol has been a contentious issue. Many question the morality of building new homes on top of those destroyed by Russian forces. The story of the Leningradsky Kvartal residential complex is one of stark contrast, where gleaming new buildings stand alongside ruins of what once was.

Mariupol’s history in recent years has been marked by destruction on an unprecedented scale. In 2022, the city suffered one of the worst sieges of the conflict, with tens of thousands killed or injured. Infrastructure was severely damaged, and many residents were forced to flee their homes, never to return. The city’s past is a testament to the devastating impact of war.

Today, however, Leningradsky Kvartal complex is a thriving hub of activity, attracting newcomers drawn by cheap mortgages and coastal living. One- and two-room apartments can be bought for upwards of €104,000, while three-room apartments sell for €150,000 or more. Prices may seem steep to some, but in a region where property prices have risen by a third in just one year, they are seen as a bargain.

Russian security personnel, officials, and people working in military logistics make up the majority of those purchasing apartments, according to economist Vyacheslav Shiryaev. Others include those who can’t afford Crimea or Sochi but still want to live by the sea. The Russian government’s offer of cheap mortgages at an annual interest rate of 2% is a significant draw for these buyers.

Newcomers to Mariupol are buying into a sanitized version of history, where the trauma and tragedy of the siege have been erased from public discourse. Online forums discuss everything from furniture delivery to kindergarten options, but the fact that tens of thousands once called Leningradsky Kvartal home is conveniently forgotten.

The story of Halyna Artemova and photographer Yevhen Sosnovsky serves as a stark reminder of what has been lost. Both lived in buildings destroyed during the siege, with Artemova suffering shrapnel wounds and Sosnovsky being hit by a bullet. Despite their experiences, they are just two among thousands displaced from their homes.

The occupying authorities promised new apartments to those who had lost everything, but none of the inhabitants of the former blocks on Metallurgy Avenue were allocated an apartment in the new Leningradsky Kvartal buildings. The construction of Mariupol’s new high-rises is a symptom of a larger problem – the exploitation of human tragedy for economic gain.

As economist Shiryaev noted, “Construction companies are cutting corners wherever they can, but still demanding exorbitant prices.” The Russian government’s policy of offering cheap mortgages has created a culture of profiteering from the ashes of war. Leningradsky Kvartal complex stands as a testament to the power of forgetting.

As long as new arrivals in Mariupol can ignore or downplay the city’s painful past, they can focus on their own futures – and pocket the profits that come with it. But for those who remember what has been lost, the irony is stark: a city built on human bones, where silence and erasure are used to justify the exploitation of tragedy.

The voices of those who lived through the siege must not be silenced as Mariupol rises from its ashes. The question remains whether reconstruction will be guided by a commitment to justice and accountability or if it will continue down the path of forgetting.