Pride Of Ownership

By EDWARD W. DESMOND KURILSK

The main town on the Kurile island of Iturup might be any down-and-out frontier settlement in the former Soviet Union. Kurilsk's rutted streets run through neighborhoods of ramshackle houses with outdoor plumbing; the few shops offer only a sparse selection of goods at intimidating prices. The biggest employer, a crumbling fish-processing plant, is several weeks behind in paying wages. Vasily Sadovsky, Kurilsk's vice mayor, confirms the obvious: "Things have been getting worse here for 10 years. Nothing works, not even the streetlights. No one has the initiative to find new bulbs for them."

Now many of the Russians living on the Kurile Islands are hoping for a future better than they ever dreamed. Their homes are on what Japan still calls its Northern Territories, a volcanic archipelago stretching 186 miles from Japan's northern border waters that was seized by the Soviets in the waning days of World War II. Tokyo wants those territories back, and part of Prime Minister Kiichi Miyazawa's strategy is to woo the 25,000 Russian residents with hints of the good life that would blossom under Japan's rule.

Slowly the campaign is working: many islanders still balk at the notion of a return to Japanese sovereignty, but most agree that the holdouts are losing ground. Says a fisherman in Kurilsk: "We live in barbaric conditions, and our government will not help. Who would not agree to Japan's offer for a good sum of money?"

The answer to that question lies in Moscow, where the Kurile issue has stirred political passions. One camp, led by the Russian Foreign Ministry, is willing to do business on Tokyo's terms: the islands returned in exchange for a formal peace treaty, never signed after World War II, and financial support for the comatose Russian economy. Opposed is an unruly chorus of nationalist politicians who threaten to overthrow President Boris Yeltsin if he surrenders any more of the "motherland." They are allied with conservative military men, still smarting from the "loss" of Eastern Europe, who fear that return of the islands will threaten the defense of the Russian Far East.

Yeltsin feels caught in the middle. In recent months he has tried to encourage Tokyo by promising to withdraw most of the islands' 7,000-strong Russian garrison. His government has also floated a compromise in which Japan would get some of the islands, while Russia would keep the larger two of Kunashir and Iturup, where most Russians live. Tokyo has rejected the idea, and Yeltsin, fearful of risking the wrath of his Moscow rivals, has been unable to sweeten the deal further. Last week he canceled a trip to Tokyo rather than confront the issue.

With the collapse of Soviet communism, the possibilities for diplomatic rapprochement might seem to be good, but that is misleading. Even though Moscow and Tokyo talk of settling the dispute in terms of "legitimacy and justice," control of the Kuriles turns more on issues of realpolitik. Says Mikhail Vysokov, director of the Sakhalin Center of Modern History: "Those with power have rights. When Russia had more power, it had more rights. Now Japan has more power."

The Russians, however, have more people on the islands. Many of the civilians living there were attracted by the high salaries that the Soviet Union used to provide anyone willing to work in such remote places. Today those who came only for the money are bitterly disappointed, faced with sharp price increases and the cutoff of special supplementary pay. That has led many to welcome the notion of a return to Japanese control -- and spawned fanciful dreams of compensation that some guess could reach $100,000 for any leave takers. Says a young mother who came with her husband on a work contract six years ago: "All my friends and I think that we should give up. The government cannot afford to provide its people a good life here."

Nationalistic feelings are strongest among longtime residents like Sergei Kvasov, a fisherman whose father fought with the Red Army on the islands in 1945. Says he: "Among those who were born here, there are no thoughts of giving up. We will fight before quitting these islands." Russian military men insist that the Kuriles are a protective shield for Russian ports on the Sea of Okhotsk and for the nuclear-armed Soviet ballistic-missile submarines that loiter in the sheltered waters.

Governor Valentin Fedorov, a staunch opponent of territorial transfer, argues that giving up the southern Kuriles makes no economic sense. It would, he says, deprive Russia of some of the best fisheries in the Pacific while opening the door for a deluge of Japanese investment that would "once again put us under the Japanese, only this time by peaceful means." For the moment, at least, the nays have it -- but the maneuvering is far from over.

With reporting by Yuri Zarakhovich/Moscow