By Amie Ferris-Rotman
MOSCOW (Reuters) - Stout, burly men in blue camouflage uniforms sling Kalashnikovs onto their backs and mount a tank firing shells. They then throw tear gas canisters at a crowd which explode into clouds of fluorescent orange.
Moscow's much-feared special police force, which goes by the acronym OMON in Russian, are only practising, but they are preparing to help contain social unrest if the financial crisis deepens and spreads through all strata of society.
Many of the 2,000-strong Moscow OMON fought for Russia in the two Chechnya wars after the fall of the Soviet Union. They drive armoured cars, are trained for hostage situations and know how to use over 30 types of semi-automatic weapons.
As opposed to the previous crisis of 1998 when the government had no resources to save the rouble from collapse, Russia is now well-cushioned by hundreds of billions of dollars in reserves, piled up in the last decade of its economic boom.
But a feeling of alarm among Russians is growing as oil prices, the source of their prosperity, fall, and reserves melt.
Russian stocks have lost almost 77 percent of their value since late May, four top-30 banks have folded and ordinary Russians are finding it increasingly difficult to cover rising mortgage payments.
"It could even be worse than ten years ago," a 43-year old Muscovite working in the oil business, speaking on condition of anonymity, told Reuters. In 1998, the crisis was characterised by massive queues at banks and occasional scuffles.
"I know friends who are being refused money at the banks. It will be ugly," he said.
State-owned pollster VTSIOM recently found that half of Russians are scared of unemployment and the rouble is weakening.
Evgeniy Semenov, an executive at the Russian division of global real estate consultancy Knight Frank, said, "People who invested money in an apartment that doesn't get built might create social tensions. There may be very serious social issues coming out of this."
In 1998, an upturn in oil prices and a cheap rouble helped the state fix the economy and prevent major social upheaval. Police say they are now preparing for the worst case scenario.
"In these times we could run into problems of unrest and our officers need to be ready to provide security to the city," said Moscow police spokesman Viktor Biryukov, watching dozens of OMON officers practise a confrontation with a boisterous crowd.
APPLAUSE AND CONCERN
The OMON was set up in 1987 to combat terrorism, but soon morphed into a semi-military riot police. They were applauded by the state for rescuing children held hostage in the 2004 Beslan school siege, though some relatives of the dead said the authorities failed to take control of the situation.
Last year foreign embassies and the EU said the OMON was too heavy-handed when it used batons to break up anti-Kremlin protests and detained journalists in Moscow and St Petersburg.
More OMON officers on the streets is a scary prospect for some. Their black lace-up boots, berets and buzzcut hairstyles make them instantly recognisable for most Russians, who view them as tough, no-nonsense men.
International organisations accused the unit of severe human rights abuses in Chechnya and rights groups say they harass immigrants who come to Russia seeking labour.
"There are many situations where the OMON come and break up protests and they're really not needed there," said a representative for SOVA, a Russian NGO that tracks racist crime.
"They can grab and terrorise innocent people, especially passersby, but this can also happen with normal police," he said.
OMON and other Moscow police units, which includes the largest horse-mounted force in Europe, showed off their strength and skills on a chilly autumn afternoon to a group of foreign diplomats over the weekend.
A female police officer in knee-high black boots dangled off a horse's flank upside down to Soviet-era music and sliced a green cabbage in half with a metre-long (yard-long) sword, reminiscent of Cossack horsefighting.
But for Moscow's police force of 92,000, which is about double the size of London's, to fulfil state ambitions and provide an efficient buffer in case of any public panic, it needs a reduction in staff and a significant salary boost to become more professional, Biryukov said.
Moscow officers earn 15,000 roubles ($548.4) a month, he said, a nudge up from the national average, and they want it raised more than three-fold to 50,000 roubles.
"The state is now considering our proposition, it should happen either this year or next."
(Additional reporting by Simon Shuster)
