Ban on small bars could kill St Petersburg’s nightlife
For over a decade, Dmitry Karchevsky and his partners lived according to their bar’s name: “I Believe”.
“Believing in all kinds of rubbish” was what made their “dream” possible, he says – making money while creating a cosy, affordable, British-style local everyone would enjoy hanging out in. Even in the depths of a pandemic, with business shuttered and prospects uncertain, Karchevsky says he and his partners remained “optimistic” about the future – and were making plans for their as-yet-unscheduled reopening.
But then city lawmakers struck. In the third week of June, Karchevsky discovered his bar was one of dozens
of venues due to be shuttered in the new year under a new obscure anti-alcohol law.
The legislation, unveiled in final wording only in June, would see drink licences revoked from most venues in St Petersburg with service areas under 50 square metres. A previous draft of the law referred only to 20 sq m. The bill was passed in its third reading this week – perversely at a moment the bar and restaurant sector was still mostly closed under Covid-19 regulations. It now awaits the formal signature of governor Alexander Beglov before becoming law in January.
Supporters of the new law say it will protect local residents from nalivaiki, the cheap watering holes that are ubiquitous across poorer districts, and typically offer polony sandwiches and vodka at 30-50 roubles (35-55p) a shot. But the regulations also capture a significant part of St Petersburg’s quirky bar and restaurant infrastructure.
Russia’s imperial capital has long been associated with drinking. Liquid culture is spilt all over its literature – from Alexander Pushkin’s grape-sodden poetry to Sergei Dovlatov’s chronicles of the late-Soviet vodka blues. In 2016, the punk band Leningrad wrote a love ballad to their home town. They entitled it simply: “In Peter you drink”.
We should close libraries while we are at it. Stop people reading and thinking dangerous thoughts. Oh, and shut kindergartens too. Because kids can grow up into people who think the wrong thing
But if in days gone by, St Petersburg showed a preference for cheap vodka dens and beer halls, today it hits more sophisticated notes. In just a few short years, hundreds of auteur bars and restaurants have mushroomed out of cracks in the city’s historical centre. The drivers of such growth are mostly young entrepreneurs, often groups of friends. But the city also played a role: close to Scandinavia and the west; cheap enough for affordable rents; and rich enough to support consumption.
Now, at least according to a petition drawn up by local bar owners, up to a hundred of these microbusinesses face the axe under the new law. Some of those businesses who fall short might still squeeze through by redesigning their premises. Others with venues just above the cut-off worry it might be a matter of time before the authorities come for them too.
Pyotr Birger, co-owner of the popular Khroniki (“Chronicles”) bar on Nekrasov street, which just falls into the latter category, says the “arbitrary” nature of the legislative process was a concern. “They passed a law without doing any studies about the effect it might have on the market,” he says. “Fifty square metres was a compromise this time, but who is to say it won’t be seventy next year?”
Dissident circles have meanwhile been quick to interpret the law as an attack on alternative culture by traditionalist groups within government. “Stopping the sale of alcohol will mean people will drink less,” ironised the public intellectual Dmitry Bykov in a discussion programme on local radio.
“We all need to work more and drink less. We should close libraries while we are at it. Stop people reading and thinking dangerous thoughts. Oh, and shut kindergartens too. Because kids can grow up into people who think the wrong thing.”
Some bar owners allege an altogether different conspiracy: local government working with big chains to push the city’s smaller venues out of business.
Liza Izvozchikova, owner of two hip spots in the historical centre, Produkty bar and Beirut cafe, the latter of which faces the axe, says she had no proof of such collusion. But it would “fall in line” with authorities’ “traditionally condescending” attitude to small business, she insisted.
“They don’t think of us as part of the economy, but treat us like illegals,” she tells The Independent. “They talk about a crusade on alcoholism and anti-social bars, but in reality, it’s a populist cover to prioritise large retail. The outcome of that process will be less choice and more chains, and less intimate venues.”
Sociologist Daniil Alexandrov cautions against seeing the law as a coordinated attack by local government on St Petersburg’s underground culture. Small bars are not universally popular in the population, he says, and especially among those without disposable incomes to use them. It is “likely” the bill was first conceived to please such constituencies. It is likely too that authors were blindsided to its potential impact, he adds.
“Of course, politicians tend to fraternise with owners of big bars and big restaurants,” he says. “And of course young people with different political and cultural attitudes prefer small bars. But it does not follow that bureaucrats are consciously looking to squeeze western-oriented hipsters.”
Dmitry Chetyrbok, a local legislator for the ruling United Russia party, and author of the new law, suggests his legislation has been unfairly maligned. The aim was not to stop alcohol drinking, which was “impossible”, he tells The Independent, but protect residents from antisocial drinking dens. The law will also affect “a far lower number” than the hundred bars cited by owners.
“We phoned all the venues and believe no more than 18 venues will close,” he says. “Of course, every single one is a shame, but we have to balance the interests of business with those of citizens.”
The local deputy also disputes bar owners’ claims that the law has been “jumped” on them in the middle of a pandemic. Discussions have been ongoing for over a year, he says, and attempts to achieve a “compromise” will continue. Legislators have inserted a “coronavirus” clause delaying onset of the law for six months.
Of course, every single one is a shame, but we have to balance the interests of business with citizens
This, he says, will give business owners “the opportunity to plan”.
For many, that period of grace almost certainly means planning for the end. Dmitry Karchevsky says the team at I Believe will continue to live in hope, and according to its motto. But, he adds, it is becoming hard to see a reason for either. “We did amazing things in creating a world-class bar culture in scarcely 10 years,” he says. “And now they are trying to destroy us.”