Russia: Yegor Gaidar, Russia's Economic Reformer, Dies at 53

Global Voices Online
Saturday, December 19, 2009


Yegor Gaidar, a Russian economist and politician who initiated the 1992 "shock therapy" reforms following the collapse of the Soviet Union, died on Wednesday in Moscow at the age of 53. Initial reports said the cause of death was a blood clot; on Dec. 17, Maria Gaidar, Yegor Gaidar's daughter, announced on her blog (RUS) that it had been a heart attack.

In the obituary published in The Economist on Dec. 16, Gaidar is described as someone who, along with "his team," "demolished the Soviet economy and laid the foundations of capitalism in Russia," by pushing "astonishingly risky" economic reforms, which turned out to be "right but unpopular":

[...] Too much shock, not enough therapy, people complained. In the years that followed, life expectancy plunged further, public services frayed and output plummetted. But much of that was the grim legacy of Soviet misrule. Other things began to work much better. Given the disaster that he inherited, Mr Gaidar’s record still looks pretty good. [...]


Russian bloggers immediately reacted to the news of Gaidar's death, and their responses serve as a vivid reflection of how divided the Russian public still is on his legacy and the direction the country has taken since the demise of the Soviet Union. Gaidar spent the past decade largely outside the public spotlight, involved in academic work and writing, but he remained a hugely symbolic figure nevertheless: a highly esteemed hero to some of his compatriots and a reviled scapegoat to others. It is impossible to conclude which prevailed in the blogosphere on the day he died - praise and genuine sadness, or curses and inappropriately gleeful satisfaction - but there was definitely plenty of both.

In a way, LJ user faibisovich puts it best (RUS):

[...] Just as [Boris Yeltsin]'s death, the death of Gaidar is an extremely powerful litmus test, an instant photo of the consciousness of the country, its public figures and the not-so-prominent people. [...]


Below is a selection of Russian bloggers' reactions to Yegor Gaidar's death (translated from Russian).

LJ user viking-nord:

[...] He did indeed rescue us from humiliation, from fights for a loaf of bread... The majority doesn't think highly of it, which characterizes not Gaidar, but this majority. [...]


LJ user afrikane3:

[...] He was faced with an extremely difficult task, something that no one in the world had ever done before him - from a fried eggs meal, to re-assemble a live egg on the molecular level. Did he do it clumsily? Yes, it was clumsy. Yes, a tractor rode over people's destinies. In our family, too, in the early 90s, there were no other words but curses directed at [Gaidar]. But on the other hand, there was no alternative, either.

[...]

Have you been to Yugoslavia? No? Go there, talk to the people, they'll tell you many interesting things about the "Great Serb" [Slobodan Milošević] and his allies. And they'll also tell you how people were burnt alive and forced to drink urine brewed with cigarette butts.

All this despite the fact that [Yugoslavia] was a much more cultured and European country, with agriculture that remained intact, with a developed consumer goods production, with roads and service!

Taking into account our backwardness and wildness, as well as the size of the Soviet Union - this would have been some 6-7 million of dead bodies.

So maybe he has saved these 6-7 million people - and not "robbed the old ladies"? [...]


LJ user hasid:

Had Gaidar died between 1993-95, there would have been no need to feel sorry. But today, there is - because now we've got someone to compare him with - basically, the inanimate objects in office.

And he should also be given credit for not falling so low as to start "eating children" - despite being in an environment that favored that. He had managed to restrain himself.

Eternal memory.


Here's part of a discussion in the comments section to the post quoted above:

pivovaroffs:

"because now we've got someone to compare him with"

I don't know what's a good comparison for a person who had promised a threefold price hike but ended up initiating a 2,500% inflation. This makes even the events of [the 1998 financial crisis in Russia] dim by comparison.

[...]

hasid:

[Nikita Khrushchev] promised communism by 1980 to you, [Mikhail Gorbachev] promised a separate apartment to everyone by 2000, [Vladimir Putin] promised to catch up with Portugal by 2010.

Do you believe all the czars?

pivovaroffs:

These are promises of different kinds. Those czars were promising lifestyle improvements - and they kept these promises at least in part.

Gaidar was promising a deterioration - and he well exceeded on this promise [...].

hasid:

Because he was honest, that's why.


LJ user rusanalit:

[...] Gaidar and Yeltsin are blamed for rendering worthless people's savings deposits at [Sberbank].

I'll note two things.

Thing #1. Sberbank of the USSR was bankrupt by 1992 - it had handed out over 90 percent of the accumulated funds to [Gosbank] of the USSR, which, in turn, handed out most of that in the form of loans to the Soviet budget. From formal bankruptcy Sberbank of the USSR was saved by the 1991-92 hyperinflation only, which also erased to dust the purchasing power of the savings.

Thing #2. Most of the depositors' losses happened in the pre-Gaidar 1991, when prices rose 150 percent. That is, the purchasing power of savings fell by 60 percent. Then the 1992 inflation cut the [remaining] savings tenfold. That is, in 1991, depositors parted with 60 percent of their savings, and in 1992 - with 36 percent.

Anyway, if you are remembering Gaidar [unkindly], then the Soviet prime minister [Valentin Pavlov], a communist, should precede him. [...]


LJ user knup_ru wrote this in the ru_politics LJ community:

[...] I've noticed that only communists are criticizing Gaidar openly. The rest are either praising him or carefully acknowledge his role in the Russian history.


It's not only the economic reforms that Gaidar is remembered unfavorably for by some Russian citizens. LJ user ingushetia-ru, for instance, brought up the Ossetian-Ingush conflict of 1992, at the time of which Gaidar served as first deputy prime minister of Russia. Writing on behalf of the Ingush population, ingushetia-ru concludes:

[...] All in all, so many curses are pouring at the deceased from all over the country, that one more - from the Ingush people - is simply drowning in the general mass of it...


And then there was also the "constitutional crisis" of October 1993 in Russia - "a political stand-off between the Russian president and the Russian parliament that was resolved by using military force." Gaidar, who had been Russia's acting PM from June to December 1992, was Russia's first deputy prime minister again then. On the day he died, at least two bloggers posted a YouTube video (RUS) of his Oct. 3, 1993, TV address to the Russian citizens, in which he, among other things, described the "opposite side" as heavily-armed "bandits" and "revanchists" and called Muscovites to gather in downtown Moscow to "prevent turning the country into a huge concentration camp for decades again."

One of the bloggers (LJ user gunter_spb) posted this video in the ru_politics LJ community, questioning Gaidar's "morality" - and while some readers seemed to share his scorn for Gaidar, others didn't:

garden_vlad:

A faithful servant of the [nomenklatura, the ruling class] and a Russophobe

***

agitator_mass:

Have listened carefully. Recalled that time. Am ready to sign under every single phrase.


Another blogger who chose to highlight Gaidar's 1993 address is LJ user cook. Here is what he wrote in his tribute to Gaidar:

Sometimes - very rarely - people appear in the human mass who are truly capable of assuming responsibility in a decisive moment.

Yegor Gaidar had been given this amazing and tragic gift in abundance: he was ready to act and to be held responsible for his actions. Again and again, he was taking upon himself what was most difficult, most unrewarding, and, sometimes, truly unbearable.

Here, have a look: a horrible moment, when a person meets his fate. Calmly, with dignity and with understanding of the real weight of the burden that he had been allotted.

[video]

This is what an act of bravery is. One of the feats that he has accomplished.

Eternal memory and eternal gratitude to Yegor Gaidar.


Below are a few more reflections on Gaidar, by people who used to know him personally in one way or another.

LJ user mikhail62, a journalist, was on the same train to St. Petersburg with Gaidar in late 1995; he spent a couple hours talking to him, had him sign a recently-published book and interviewed him:

[...] Gaidar changed into travel clothes once on the train - he put on an old shirt - worn-out, with marks left by a ballpoint pen near a small pocket. And all the buttons on his stomach had been sewn on anew. They differed in size and color, and the threads used were different, too...

And when I used to think of Yegor Timurovich, I kept seeing these different buttons and pen marks on an old shirt of a man who had transformed the economy. [...]


Irina Yasina (LJ user yasina), an economist and a journalist, was the last person to interview Gaidar. On her blog, she wrote:

The main thing that Yegor Timurovich had taught me was to work for the country, not for the regime. I kept asking him many times beginning from 2003: Why are you helping THEM? And he used to tell me that he had lived through one catastrophe - a collapse of his own country - and he doesn't want something like this to happen again.

- Irochka, I do remember what it's like when there's just enough flour in Moscow for three days and in Leningrad for two! And this is what matters. To wish well not to the regime, but to the country in which you are living, having children and waiting for grandchildren.

God, such brains, such skills and knowledge - and no one basically had any need for them in the last years...


Below is a video (RUS, 15:22) of Yasina's last interview with Gaidar, recorded on Dec. 15, just one day before he died, at RIA Novosti news agency in Moscow:



Finally, here is some of what Gaidar's daughter Maria (LJ user m-gaidar; a political activist, currently serving as deputy governor of Kirov region) wrote on Dec. 17 on her blog:

[...] The death occurred between 2AM and 6AM, and, most likely, he didn't realize what happened. I saw it - his face was absolutely calm. He died at home, had been in a wonderful mood before that, had some meetings scheduled for the following day, had been working.

It is extremely difficult to see books and papers that he had been reading just a short time ago, and his notes that had just been written with his hand.

I am very happy that we had had a chance to see each other and to have a wonderful talk (he packed a whole sack of books for me to read), that he was home in a good mood, in a good condition, that he died peacefully, and that I happened to be in Moscow when I learned about it, because I was passing through to Kirov from Stavropol region. [...]

Ukraine: Bureaucracy and Incompetence at Defense Ministry

Global Voices Online
Saturday, December 12, 2009


Sergei Maximishin (LJ user remetalk), an award-winning Russian photographer, has recently tried to get the Ukrainian defense ministry's assistance in doing a photo story on the Ukrainian navy and army for the German Stern. He and his colleague, Stern's correspondent Tilman Müller, ended up defeated by the Ukrainian bureaucratic monster. On his blog, Maximishin has posted a detailed account of the ordeal (RUS; the dialog parts of the post are in Ukrainian):

[Sergei Maximishin's photo from Sevastopol]

Spent two weeks working in Ukraine - together with Stern's correspondent Tilman Müller [who was doing the writing], we were working on a large overview story about the country. Politics, economy, the army, religion, culture, sports, Euro 2012, the upcoming election, the Russian fleet, swine flu, ultra-right forces, social issues, everyday life. St. Petersburg-Moscow-Donetsk-Kyiv-Lviv-Kyiv-Donetsk-Kyiv-Sevastopol-Kyiv-St. Petersburg.

Before we started working, we met with the editor of the English-language newspaper [Kyiv Post] - and asked for advice: how to get here, and how to get there. To the question on how we should go about shooting something about the Ukrainian army, this wise man recommended not wasting energy and time - it's not going to work anyway.

Overconfident, I neglected this advice and started calling Mr. Khalyavynsky - "head of the press service of the Ministry of Defense of Ukraine." For three days, [he] wasn't there, and, asked how it was possible to get in touch with him, his secretary replied, "How would I know?" On the third day, the secretary had mercy on us and gave us his fax number. I wrote a letter in English, asking to help us with shooting on two objects: we were interested in the Ukrainian fleet based in Sevastopol and the Kyiv-based honor guard unit. Emailed the letter to Hamburg, asked to print it out, have the managers sign it and fax to Kyiv.

A day later, I called the press service again:

- Good afternoon, my name is Serhiy Maksimishin, photographer with the Stern chronicle, Germany. I'd like to ask if there's been any reaction to our fax letter.
- What fax letter? There haven't been any fax letters from Germany.
- What do you mean there haven't been any? Our newsroom said they had sent one yesterday...
- They couldn't have sent anything, because we couldn't have received anything.
- How come???
- Because we've been out of fax paper for a week already.
- Oh God, when will you get it?
- Actually, we do have it, but the person who knows how to insert it isn't here.
- And when will this person appear?
- Call us back on Monday, maybe someone will show up...

I call them Monday. Fax paper has been inserted. I call the Germans, ask them to re-send the fax and confirm via phone. The Germans call back, say that everything has been sent. I call the press service.

- Ms. Svitlana, this is Serhiy Maksimishin again, photographer with the Stern chronicle, Germany. Tell me please, have you received our fax?
- Yeah, some kind of thing has come through...
- What do you mean, "some kind of thing"???
- Oh, but it's in a foreign language, so who can read it?..
- What, not a single person in the entire press service knows English??? Aren't you ashamed?
- Well... Hold on... I'll ask...

Five minutes later:

- No, the head [of the press service] said Stern should send a letter in Ukrainian.
- May I translate it myself?
- Hold on.

Five more minutes:

- Mr. Khalyavinsky says that, as an exception, you may come over to our office and translate it here.

Tilman and I take a ride across the city to the press service. We find ruins there: the impression is that they started doing renovations some two years ago, and ran out of money a year later. First of all, Svetlana the secretary demands to see our foreign affairs ministry accreditation cards. Tilman had left his at the hotel. The secretary says no one would bother talking to him without accreditation. I say that since I do have accreditation with me, let the boss speak with me. The secretary disappears behind her boss' door. Then comes back: the boss said that if you've come together, there should be two accreditation cards - otherwise, there'll be no conversation. Tilman calls the hotel, asks the receptionist to go up to his room, find the piece of paper and fax it to us. Fifteen minutes later, the accreditation gets out of the fax machine. The secretary asks us to show her our passports. Spends a long time comparing photographs to the originals. Finally, she hands the letter faxed from Stern to me, as well as two sheets of paper, and asks me to do a written translation of the text. I ask her where I could sit down. "Right here" - she brings a chair to the construction trestle in the hallway. She doesn't offer a seat to Tilman. I begin translating. [She] glances over my shoulder and protests: "Why are you translating into the Russian language? The boss said it should be in Ukrainian!" I start over, this time in Ukrainian. Who the hell knows what "honor guard unit" is in Ukrainian. At last, I give the fax letter and the hand-written translation to the secretary, she takes it behind the door covered with black fake leather. Ten minutes later, we are allowed to proceed to Mr. Khalyavinsky's office. Judging by how well-fed [he] is, his rank must be no lower than lieutenant colonel; he doesn't get up from his desk, is hiding his feet in blue rubber slippers under the table.

In English, Tilman delivers a ritual spiel about Stern and its 8 million readers. I translate it into the nightingale language [Ukrainian]. Khalyavinsky shines with friendliness. [He] barely speaks Ukrainian, gets the words mixed up. Apologizes for this, says that he has spent his whole life as a correspondent with the [Russian/Soviet] Northern Fleet newspaper, and now he is forced to learn Ukrainian anew. Says that he'd be happy to help us, but he's surprised why such experienced journalists of such an esteemed magazine don't know the basic things and have taken the wrong path. The right path, according to Khalyavinsky, is this: "Let the Germans talk to their military attache, who has to write a letter to Mr. Miroshnichenko, head of the defense ministry's committee for international cooperation, and Mr. Miroshnichenko has to issue a resolution and address it to the minister [of defense], and then the minister would give orders to Khalyavinsky, and then there'll be no problems whatsoever, work as you please."

Tilman called the German embassy right from [Khalyavinsky's] office, they spend five minutes looking for the attache, the German spends a long time explaining "the right path" to his compatriot, then hands over the phone to Khalyavinsky, who, once again, this time in Ukrainian, describes the trajectory of paperwork. The attache promises to help. As I say good-bye, I ask Khalyavinsky for [his] cell phone number and that of Mr. Miroshnichenko, whom I'm not acquainted with - "head of the committee for international cooperation." The attache calls the next day, says that he's sent the letter out, but doubts this will bring any results. One day later, I call Khalyavinsky - he says that "unfortunately, the minister [of defense] has fallen ill" and recommends calling Miroshnichenko. Miroshnichenko's phone is turned off. I call Khalyavinsky on his cell phone again: "The number you are trying to reach is unavailable at the moment." I call Svetlana on her landline phone:

- Mr. Khalyavinsky isn't there.
- When will he be in?
- How would I know?

All this, for an entire week.

We ended up deciding to fly to Sevastopol and shoot whatever's available. At the embankment, I hired a boat for 450 hryvnias [approx. $56] and, for 100 hryvnias [$12.50], two midshipmen of the Russian Navy, who promised to show us all the Russian ships, including the fleet's flagship cruiser Moskva, which is currently laid up at a floating dock. Already on the boat, I ask the midshipmen:

- And where is the Ukrainian fleet stationed?
- Ah, it's not here, they've all gone to Bulgaria for tomatoes, - the midshipmen laugh at their own joke.

P.S. If some of you think that the Russian defense ministry's press service employs a different type of people, you are mistaken.

As one of my acquaintances used to say, "we are working from inside a tight circle of [morons]."


In one of the comments to Maximishin's post, Kyiv-based LJ user vi_chanceux wrote (RUS) that he was ashamed for his country, which is "ruled" by such incompetent individuals. Maximishin responded:

You shouldn't be ashamed for the country: the country and the state are different things, but alas, not everyone understands this.

Russia: Three Stories of Extreme Poverty

Global Voices Online
Friday, December 11, 2009


Russian photojournalist Oleg Klimov has recently spent two hours waiting for a train at the train station in Syzran, a city in Russia's Samara region. While there, he interacted with a few locals and then jotted down their stories of extreme poverty (RUS) on his blog.

Story #1:

[...] Mother, her daughter, and grandson, aged 5 or so. Have been living at the train station for two days. Are 400 rubles (approx. $13) short of [buying tickets] to get to their native village, not far from [Penza]. Are coming back from a funeral. Are waiting for a female relative to arrive and bring those 400 rubles. The relative isn't coming - possibly, because she is out of money, too. They asked [me] to send a text message [from my cell phone]. Ordinary village people. Maybe they aren't too clever and aren't too educated, but they are open-minded and ingenuous. Qualities of no small value nowadays. The mother's pension is 4,500 rubles [a month; approx. $148]. The daughter sometimes works in Penza, and sometimes doesn't. The son doesn't attend a kindergarten. [Because] there is no kindergarten. A female relative had died, they gathered all the money they had and set off to bury her. "How else? - One has to bid a decent human farewell..." [...]


Story #2:

[...] Four ethnic Tatar women commute weekly from their village to Syzran to earn some money. At best, they make a thousand [rubles; approx. $33] between the four of them, working as cleaning ladies at public facilities and anywhere else. There is no work whatsoever in the village. "There is work, but none of it pays." Sometimes they don't have enough money to simply buy bread. So they buy flour and bake their own bread. To save money. They have their own potatoes. And cucumbers, and cabbage. But they don't have money. "It's possible to survive, but very difficult. It's easier to die..." [...]


Story #3:

[...] A man, aged 55 or a little older. His children threw him out of his home. Just like that: "Get the hell out of here... Sometimes I stay with my acquaintances, and sometimes at the train station. Do random jobs, here and there..." Doesn't consider himself a hobo, because "there are no hobos in a small town. People do help." He's got cold tea in a plastic bottle. Bread and foul-smelling cutlets are wrapped in some piece of rag. He ate one cutlet with bread. Washed it down with tea and fell asleep on the train station bench right after that. Just lowered his head onto his chest and fell asleep. [...]


Klimov ends his post on an emotional note, writing that "it's horrible to watch all this," and that there is no shortage of such stories in the "sleek-looking 'Putin's Russia'":

[...] You can spend a couple more hours there and write a piece. With no comments. Just by listening and writing down things that people say to each other. It's that simple. Any journalist can do this. And no damn intellectual analysis is required. [...]

Russia: A Blogger's Account of the Rescue Effort in Perm

Global Voices Online
Sunday, December 6, 2009


At least 109 people died and more than 130 were injured Friday night in a fire caused by the ignition of a pyrotechnic display, and in the resulting stampede, at the Lame Horse nightclub in the city of Perm.

In an earlier GV analysis of the citizen and mainstream media coverage of the Perm tragedy, Gregory Asmolov has translated two of the nearly instant updates from one of the users of a popular local forum, Teron.ru, who happened to be outside the nightclub when the fire broke out - and who ended up helping out with the rescue effort:

[...] A user M.R. joined the discussion by publishing several pictures of the rescue efforts. He also wrote that he had helped in the evacuation of victims:

My role was to flip victims over on their sides and bend their knees. I don't know why but it is what the only doctor at that time told us to do.

There are only 50 percent of people alive. I determined that by their eye pupils… I used a flashlight. I did it so the police could help only those who are still alive.
[...]


A day later, the same Teron.ru forum user summed up his heartbreaking experiences and observations in a detailed post (RUS) on his LJ blog (http://yakimovmihail.livejournal.com/), parts of which are translated below:

My wife and I were taking a walk outside our house...

First, some noise in the backyard and loud voices. People standing by the emergency exit of LH [the Lame Horse nightclub], some sitting and coughing, spitting. Talking calmly, though, without panic. Then some guy comes running to the fire station nearby, all black, and starts screaming that there are "thousands of people" in there and they are all burning, etc. At first, we thought he was drunk. But the firefighters must have known about the situation by then and were running around like crazy. As a result, everyone who was at the fire station at the time drove out or simply ran to the site of the fire in a minute. I walked to the compartments from which fire trucks were driving out and closed the gates after them. I'd never seen them leaving the gates open like this before.

We went down and walked around the building on 9 Kuybyshev St. to the side where the small park is. Right away, I saw a man in rags, with no hair or eyelashes. Only his eyes were burning, but his whole face was covered with soot. But he was moving normally, walking back and forth. I talked to him. He asked if he was burned badly. But I told him that he looked okay. Then another victim, similar to the first one, came up to me and addressed me by my first name and patronymic. Turned out he was a colleague of mine. He said he didn't remember how he got out. But he, too, asked me how his face was and, in general, how he looked from the outside. (Later, I learned from reports that he was taken to Moscow with 80 percent of his skin damaged.)

But at that point it somehow didn't appear that horrible. The victims were walking back and forth, some were sitting on the ground. Some ten people, all in all. Thick black smoke was coming out from the small windows of LH, but no one was running out from the building itself. And it seemed that it wasn't so horrible after all.

The horrible part started in five minutes or so. The firefighters got dressed, connected to the fire hydrants - which, by the way, were functional and the water was coming. And that's when they began to drag the people out...

This, of course, was impressive...

They carried out the first two women, lay them on the asphalt right by the entrance. Someone began to administer [CPR] to one of them [...]. But then more people were carried out. And were placed right there. The firefighters could no longer walk, had to jump over people...

Two ambulances arrived, and people started to drag the doctors apart, showing the victims to them and demanding that they help them. This was, perhaps, the hardest moment.

Then people began to self-organize. They stopped doing the [CPR]. First, we tore off the red vinyl banners, turned them around and lay them out on the opposite side of the road. Prepared a place to put as many people as possible. [...] A few guys - ten or so - turned up and started dragging people from the entrance (receiving them from the firefighters, obviously), and carrying them to me [...]. I determined a task for myself - to turn the victims over to their sides. This was a recommendation of a doctor, who was the only one there then, and who later left somewhere, too. This, perhaps, was the worst thing about the organization [of the rescue effort] - there was no one to do the initial examination of the victims... :( I had a flashlight, and I was doing it the way I could, relying on my army experience. I was lifting their eyelids and pointing the flashlight into their eyes. The alive/dead results were 50/50. We were trying to somehow separate the dead ones from those who were alive, but those who were carrying [the victims] didn't really obey, of course, and didn't pay attention - they were just dragging [the victims]. [...] Later, though, they started doing things more sensibly - for a person to lie on the side, it is necessary to bend one of [his/her] knees. At first, I was doing this, and then the guys who were carrying [the victims] began to do it properly themselves.

At some point, there was a quiet period, sort of. The firefighters were running back and forth with [firefighting equipment] and there were no new victims. This was when, I guess, ambulances started to arrive. I didn't see them. I just understood that the guys who were carrying [the victims] from the entrance were now yelling that [the victims] should be taken to the ambulances. This is when we needed the flashlight again. I remember that they kept trying to carry away the girl who was lying near me. But I stopped them from doing this because I already knew that she no longer needed to be carried anywhere. And then the police officers showed up and started carrying the people away, too - likely, to the ambulances. They obeyed me for a while even - I used my flashlight to pick out the people for them, who needed to be carried away.

Then they started carrying people from the nightclub again. And everything got mixed up again. Some were taken to the ambulances right away, [...], others were just placed on the road. Again, I guess there were not enough people with flashlights for the initial sorting out [of the victims]. This is very bad, of course.

This was when my part was over. Some people in uniforms showed up and the real rescue began.

And a few more remarks:

[...]

It was bad that many people were drunk, and this, along with the hysteria, did not contribute to the order and organization. This is how it was at the very beginning. These drunk, hysterical people were rushing among the injured and the dead, obviously looking for their relatives. They were turning [the victims] over to their backs. Had to [turn the victims back to their sides] after that. And, perhaps, it wasn't too good to be moving [the victims]. [...]

[...]

It also seemed strange that the firefighters didn't try dragging the people out through the emergency exit in the back of the building. Would have been not as messy this way, perhaps.

[...]