Juan Martin Rutinelli has been serving on an Argentine liner for fifteen years, now he is a chief engineer. The Atlantic Ocean, and the east coast of South and North Americas are familiar places to him. His work is difficult, but the earnings are decent. The work routine is quite satisfactory: three months at sea—three months on vacation. However, many acquaintances are perplexed: instead of “relaxing as befits a true sailor” somewhere on islands with palm trees and other delights, Juan buys a ticket and flies to the other side of the globe—to Russia. “To my beloved Russia”, he clarifies. Over the past three years, the main purpose of his trips has not been tourism, but volunteer work in various places of Donbass: Refugee aid centers; house repairs; construction; hospitals; delivery of social aid… We met with Juan at the Monastery of the Holy Dormition, Sts. Nicholas the Wonderworker and Basil the Great not far from the town of Ugledar in the Donetsk region.1 The monastery is recovering after almost three years on the front line: people were being killed here all this time; constant shelling has destroyed many buildings, with none remaining undamaged. Therefore, help in the restoration of the monastery is vital. And among the many people striving to do it is the Argentine sailor Juan Martin Rutinelli. Together with Mikhail, his friend from the town of Taganrog in the Rostov region, he is working on the restoration of St. Nicholas Convent.
Juan Rutinelli, an Argentine sailor
—It’s my first time at the Holy Dormition Monastery. Although I have been coming to Donbass for the third year now. Almost since the beginning of the Special Military Operation (SMO), I have been coming to this land from Argentina.
—What brings an Argentine sailor, a man from the other side of the globe, to these parts?
—I have no Russian roots and no Russian ancestors. But since childhood I have had an interest that has grown into respect, esteem, and then love for Russia. It started when I was twelve: I watched a TV series on the Second World War. It was a high-quality series, revealing the importance of Russia and its role in the victory over Nazism. I remember being amazed at how the Russians alone managed literally to resist and then defeat such a strong enemy, even though there was no chance of victory for a country in total isolation, which is impossible without God’s help. It was this amazement that prompted me to continue studying Russia, its culture, history, literature, and Orthodoxy.
My best friends at the Naval Academy in Argentina were all Russians; they had moved long ago or were descendants of immigrants. Seven years ago I came to Russia for the first time as a tourist: I wanted to see with my own eyes and feel with my whole being the country that I had heard, listened, read, and thought so much about, which I had fallen in love with without seeing it. And what I saw made me acknowledge and feel in my heart that it is my place in the world. And the liking that I had for it has already grown into genuine love. So, it’s no wonder that I always spend my vacation (lasting two and a half months) in Russia—in Donbass. Yes, I think this is a good routine: two to three months on board—two to three months in Russia. At first, I would spend ten months on the liner, but then I adjusted my schedule. And gradually tourism turned into travel, and even pilgrimages: I familiarized myself with the country, admired the good changes, awesome nature and people, but then the war broke out. And where else should I be if not where I can help Russians? If I say that I love Russia, words will not be enough; I must prove and show my love with deeds. It’s logical.
What is going on here now is changing the whole world. My first reaction was shock (like many people’s, I suppose). Then my friends and I calmed down, thought all it through, and came to the conclusion that, unfortunately, everything had been leading to this. Russia and the Russians were too much in the way of the West. And on my very first vacation I rushed here to Donbass to offer my help. I didn’t hesitate: I just went, and that’s it.
—What is your help? You can help with deeds, words, good conversations, fundraising, and prayer.
—I think I’ve managed to combine these methods. Of course, I have been praying for Russia, but I also contacted volunteer organizations in the Rostov region and offered cooperation. I admit, at first I was really afraid that they would answer me politely: “Thank you for your willingness to help, but since you are a foreigner, you may have difficulties.” But the guys answered in a very Russian manner, laconically and precisely: “Okay. We’re waiting for you. Come.” I packed my things and came. Which I haven’t regretted for a single moment in all these years.
Holy Dormition Monastery of Sts. Nicholas and Basil The work consisted, among other things, of delivering humanitarian aid to various places, providing refugees with everything they needed—medicine, food, clothing—and working as an orderly whenever possible. Even ordinary conversation. I must say that such talks are more important than they might seem at first glance—an open and friendly conversation is very important to people. Sometimes it comes to tears.
—What are your impressions of the people you are working with? Who lives in Donbass, in an Argentinean’s view?
—Firstly, as I noticed, they are really open and friendly people regardless of age. With a good sense of humor, despite the tough times. I was somewhat afraid that they would look askance at me. After all, I am a foreigner. But it turned out the other way around, “Oh, ‘Argentina-Jamaica, 5-0!’2 Welcome, dear friend!” Secondly, people have told me a lot about what they had gone through during the war, and I believe that these stories are worthy of being included in books, films, and broadcasts so that the whole world may know what is really going on—instead of the Western media version. And the South American media version too, by the way. Every time I return home to Argentina, one of my tasks is to share with my fellow-countrymen what I have seen here with my own eyes and heard with my own ears—“enlightenment”, as it were.
For a South American, Russia, despite the progress, is very far away. International news is not of great interest to our people, and many do not see the interrelation of historical and geopolitical processes in Russia, which inevitably influence and will influence life in Latin America, and indeed throughout the globe. I see that everything that happens in the world depends on what goes on here in Russia, no matter how hard people try to ignore it.
As for my fellow citizens’ reaction to the news from Russia, I noticed the following: Those who read, reflect, and doubt are either neutral (this doesn’t mean indifferent) or fully support Russia. Those who consume propaganda (and it is aggressive here) have a negative attitude. But most often they support Russia. My friends wonder how I can cope with travel and stress. How?... I just do it! Love for Russia is a serious thing.
—I often hear allegations that “this is all Russian propaganda, which categorically declares that there is Nazism in Ukraine.” You communicate a lot with refugees. According to your observations, is this all “Russian propaganda,” or is there Nazism in Ukraine?
—Everything is clear and visible: Judging by what the refugees tell me, there is indeed Nazism and Fascism in Ukraine. And it exists not only in everyday life, but also in the Government policies.
—What is seen by someone who has stopped being a mere tourist and seriously plunged into the real life of a country and its people is very different from his initial opinion. How has your attitude towards Russia changed over the past three years?
—I can say with confidence that my love has only increased, strengthened, and become more conscious, as it were.
The Kazan Icon of the Mother of God, damaged during shelling —Despite the fact that war is an abominable thing, and you have to see all kinds of horrors there?
—Absolutely. I was recently told, “When talking about Russians, you always use the pronoun ‘we’ instead of ‘they’. Why is that?” I replied, “It seems because I don’t see any difference between myself and Russians.” As for the war: As I see it, no one needs this war less than the Russians. The last thing the Russians want and wanted is war—they have a lot to do besides that. They need to work; they are builders and creators by nature—why would they need the war!
I arrived in Moscow in September 2022, and partial mobilization began a few days later. As I was traveling by train to Taganrog, on the way I saw trains with mobilized soldiers—exactly the same as three generations before! And I was no longer looking at the guys through the eyes of a curious viewer of a series about the war, but through the eyes of their own man, if I may say so. Someone to whom they were not strangers, and he was not a stranger to them, worrying and praying for them.
—Why did you come to work in an Orthodox monastery this time? You are fitting windows and strengthening walls—a Catholic in an Orthodox monastery!
—Firstly, we are all Christians, so why can’t I help the Orthodox? Secondly, I’m interested in Orthodoxy—where will I get to know it better if not in a monastery that was right on the front line for almost three years, where monks and nuns lived all that time in the basement, with some of them killed and the whole monastery destroyed? Thirdly, they appreciate our feasible help.
—Where did you get such a good command of the Russian language?
—I started learning it about twenty years ago (thanks to Russian classics!), then I had practice at the Naval Academy with friends; then on a liner where there are a lot of Russian–speaking sailors; and finally, I have had a lot of practice here in Donbass. You’ll learn Russian even if you don’t want to—but I want to! All in all, you need to know that you have far more friends in the world than you might think.
