Few in Donetsk had heard of Denis Pushilin a couple of weeks ago; now he holds court as the leader of the self-proclaimed Donetsk People's Republic
For the past fortnight, Denis Pushilin, the prime minister of the temporary government of the self-proclaimed People's Republic of Donetsk has presided, at least ostensibly, over a pro-Russian uprising that has seized town halls, police stations and other buildings in about ten towns across eastern Ukraine.
Few people in Donetsk had heard of the diminutive, smartly dressed 32-year-old businessman until he emerged as a leader of the group that occupied the regional administration building here two weeks ago.
Born and raised in Makeyevka, just outside Donetsk, he graduated from the local engineering college and came out of his national service in the Ukrainian army unsure what to do.
"I tried being a security guard, but it didn't last a month. It was boring," he said.
There followed stints in advertising and a period at a regional confectionary and baked products distribution firm, before he got involved with MMM, the company behind a notorious pyramid scheme that deprived thousands of Russian investors of up to $10 million in the early 1990s (he denies any wrong doing).
The city's residents have all heard of him now. On April 6 several hundred pro-Russian separatist protesters stormed the regional government building here, appointed a people's council and demanded a referendum on regional status.
Mr Pushilin was elected chairman of this people's council. With the "people's governor," the separatist leader Pavel Gubarev, already in prison, he effectively became head of the republic.
Now he has thrown the first spanner in the works of a much-vaunted Geneva deal negotiated by the Kremlin, the White House, the Ukrainian government and the European Union last week designed to defuse tensions between separatists in the Russian-speaking east and Kiev.
Unlikely though it may seem, he has emerged as a key figure in one of the worst geopolitical crises to confront Europe since the end of the Second World War.
And though no one voted for him, he insists he had the right to do so.
"Towns come over to our side every day. An absolute majority support us. But for a true mandate we need a referendum," he said, sitting in a sun-drenched office on the top floor of the occupied building.
Mr Pushilin says he and his followers will not release the buildings they occupy until the Kiev government - which he calls the "Kiev junta" - does the same, and Donetsk region gets a referendum.
Confusingly, he said the referendum he is demanding would not actually decide the question of eastern Ukraine's future - it would only ask residents if they wanted "sovereignty", the exact form of which would be worked out later.
"That can take many forms. It could mean federation or confederation with Russia, or Ukraine, or even another country. Or it could mean full independence," he said, drawing parallels to Russia's declaration of sovereignty in 1990, which preceded the break up of the Soviet Union a year later.
Mr Pushilin says he doesn't even know how the crucial question - whether or not Donetsk and the neighbouring Kharkiv and Luhansk regions will remain in Ukraine, or secede and join Russia - will be decided.
"One thing at a time. There could be a vote of the people's council, there could be a public vote. It hasn't been decided," he said.
But with memories of Crimea still raw, politicians in Kiev and western capitals are extremely suspicious of his motives.
There, a hastily organised and much-criticised referendum on unification with Russia was used to justify Moscow's annexation of the peninsula.
Mr Pushilin insists Donetsk's vote, which he wants to hold by May 11, will be transparent and have a proper international observer mission.
In reality, the extent of popular support is uncertain and the only city entirely under his republic's control is Slavyansk, 55 miles to the north, while in about ten other towns across the region separatists have taken control of police stations and town halls by force.
In Donetsk itself, the republic controls only the town hall, the occupied administration building, and a few hundred square metres of barricaded compound around it.
Entry is via three concentric barricades of tires and razor wire, each guarded by masked men with improvised clubs who must be persuaded that you have legitimate business within.
The lifts have been disabled, so to reach the nerve centre of government on the top floor you have to climb an eleven storey stairwell though the stench that envelops all occupied buildings in Ukraine - a mixture of unwashed humans, pickled food, and stale cigarette smoke (almost everyone in the people's republic smokes, and almost anything can be an ashtray).
Technically, Mr Pushilin says, his powers are limited. Only the self-appointed people's council, which he chairs, can pass decisions - and they often don't agree amongst themselves, let alone with him.
At one meeting last week the deputies very nearly came to blows in the top-floor council chamber when Mr Pushilin returned from negotiations with the regional governor, Sergei Taruta, with a five-point plan offering amnesty in exchange for leaving the building.
"Our republic is still young," a sheepish Mr Pushilin said by way of explanation as he announced the final decision of the hours-long meeting - which amounted to only a partial acceptance of Taruta's offer, but a firm rejection of the request to evacuate the building.
Nonetheless, he seems confident that the referendum on regional "sovereignty" will go ahead by May 11 - two weeks before the presidential election called by Kiev, which the separatists say is illegitimate.
"There are already plans," he said.
But just how much control Mr Pushilin really has over even these territories - or his real authority in the separatist movement - is unclear.
He calls the heavily armed men who have taken control of and blockaded Slavyansk "local self-defence volunteers," even though some of them have freely admitted to journalists that they are from Crimea.
And while the Slavyansk crew have raised the black, blue, and red flag of the republic - based on that of the short-lived post-revolutionary Donetsk Republic of 1918 - and even distributed copies of its declaration of independence to drivers at check points, it is not at all clear that they take Mr Pushilin's orders.
"They coordinate with us, but they take some operational decisions themselves," he said when asked if the gunmen are part of the republic's "people's army".
Such uncertainty about who controls who is typical of the crisis that has engulfed Ukraine in recent months.
While Mr Pushilin denies having any formal links to Moscow or that any Russian troops are present, the Kiev government has said it is certain the entire movement he ostensibly heads is actually coordinated by undercover Russian agents.
"I personally don't receive any money from Moscow, and I'm not aware of anyone who does," he said. "Russia offers us moral support, that's all."
But whether or not he is really the man in control of the separatist movement in Ukraine, he has a worrying message for those who hope to preserve the status quo.
"When all this started, everything was aimed at federalisation within a united Ukraine," he said, as an anxious press secretary tried to bring the meeting to a close.
Referring to an "anti-terrorist" operation launched by the pro-European government in Kiev that ended in farce last week, he continued:
"But after what acting president Oleksandr Turchynov has done, he's a war criminal. Not even Viktor Yanukovych declared war on his own people.
"After this, the people simply won't agree. They see no basis for cooperation. The division of Ukraine has already happened, and it was done by the Kiev junta," he said.
As a result, he said, the Ukraine that existed before Mr Yanukovych, a pro-Moscow figure, was overthrown by popular protests, no longer exists.
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