Tag: Russia

Late Pozner

A multifaceted portrait of lifelong Kremlin propagandist and relentless self-promoter Vladimir Pozner in his ninetieth year, with guest appearances from several useful idiots.
Vladimir Pozner. Photo:  picture-alliance/dpa, courtesy of DW

The director general of Russia’s Channel One, Konstantin Ernst, announced on Wednesday, 18 September, the return of TV presenter Vladimir Pozner to the air after a long break with a new show called Turkish Notebook. Pozner’s eponymous program stopped airing on Channel One after the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

On 12 September, in an interview with Forbes, the journalist said that he had been offered jobs by western TV channels, but declined because he had been asked to “speak out about Putin and politics in a certain way.” After the interview, Putin’s spokesman Dmitry Peskov called Pozner “a staunch patriot of his country.”

Pozner first spoke out about Russia’s war against Ukraine in February 2023 at an online conference at the U.S.-based Ubiquity University. At the time, he acknowledged the Russian president’s responsibility for invading Ukraine, but also accused the west of seeking to expand NATO and said that U.S. President Joe Biden had allegedly been “seeking a conflict” with Vladimir Putin.

Source: Liza Lambrecht, “Channel One Announces Pozner’s Return to the Airwaves,” Deutsche Welle Russian Service, 18 September 2024. Translated by the Russian Reader

This Summit on Ukraine is being convened on the first anniversary of the Russian military operation into Ukraine to secure a land bridge to Crimea which was launched Feb 24, 2022. The Ukraine war has actually been going on since 2014 when the United States staged a coup in Ukraine to overthrow a regime maintaining Ukraine as a neutral nation and replacing it with a regime that was anti-Russian and pro-US which immediately began waging war against the Donbas region in eastern Ukraine where the population is 80% Russian. In response, the Russians armed the local populations and seized Crimea. Military conflict has been going on since then and continues to the present day.

What is distinctive about the war in Ukraine is that it is between the two superpowers — The [sic] US and Russia — both of which are armed with nuclear weapons and both of which have threatened to use them. The world is thus in the most dangerous period since the Cuban missile crisis of 1962 when the US and Russia almost went to nuclear war. What is also distinctive is that the war is being conducted as the world faces runaway climate change and there is an urgent necessity for the US to be working with the Russians to solve critical global challenges. 

This Summit is being co-sponsored with Code Pink, a feminist grassroots organization working to end U.S. warfare and imperialism, support peace and human rights initiatives, and redirect resources into healthcare, education, green jobs and other life-affirming programs. 

Moderators:

Jim Garrison, Convener of Humanity Rising, with Jodie Evans, Co-Founder of Code Pink

Special Guests:

Vladimir Posner [sic] is a veteran journalist, bestselling author, and documentary filmmaker. He is the host of the top-rated weekly current affairs program on Channel One, Russia’s largest television network. Named the “Voice of Moscow” by CNN, Pozner is a regular commentator on Russia and the history of the Cold War in Western media. Mr. Pozner has won multiple Soviet, Russian, and American awards, including three Emmy certificates, ten TEFY [sic] awards (the Russian equivalent of the Emmy) and several international awards. He is internationally recognized and ranks among the most respected people in the television profession in Russia today.

[…]

Source: “Humanity Rising Day 641: Summit on Ukraine I: Overview of the War,” Ubiquity University (YouTube), 27 February 2023

Veteran Soviet-Russian journalist Vladimir Pozner is set to return to state television more than two years after his long-running program was taken off the air following Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Russian media reported Wednesday.

Pozner, 90, had hosted his weekly interview show “Pozner” on Channel One since 2008, but it was canceled shortly after the February 2022 invasion. He later claimed Channel One pulled the program in order to make room for war coverage.

Although Pozner has not publicly taken a stance on Russia’s invasion, he has suggested that western refusal to block Ukraine’s NATO ambitions played a role in the conflict’s escalation.

Channel One head Konstantin Ernst announced Monday that the network’s fall season lineup would include Pozner’s new show, “Turkish Notebook,” as reported by the RBC business news outlet.

Pozner said in an interview with Forbes Russia last week that his production team completed an eight-episode documentary series on Turkey, which they submitted for Ernst’s approval.

Unlike his former interview program, which had featured guests from former U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton to current Russian Security Council Head Dmitry Medvedev, Pozner’s new project appears to steer clear of political issues, similar to his live events across Europe this year, co-hosted by former late-night talk show host Ivan Urgant.

In the Forbes interview, Pozner said he had received offers to work abroad if he denounced President Vladimir Putin and spoke out on Russian politics. He declined, stating that such actions “are not journalism, but something else entirely.”

Pozner gained international recognition during the Cold War for his TV appearances, where he often explained Soviet policies and viewpoints to Western audiences. During perestroika, he hosted televised discussions between audiences in the Soviet Union and the U.S. together with American journalist Phil Donahue, who passed away last month.

Source: “Vladimir Pozner to Return to Russian State TV After 2-Year Hiatus,” Moscow Times, 18 September 2024

AMSTERDAM — A live event headlined by two Russian television celebrities has sparked controversy in the Netherlands, with critics decrying the presence of what they call Russian propagandists on European stages during Moscow’s war on Ukraine.

Veteran Channel One host Vladimir Pozner and late-night talk show host Ivan Urgant’s European tour, called “The Travels of Pozner and Urgant,” kicked off in Amsterdam on Tuesday and will be followed by stops in Zurich, Berlin and Frankfurt. 

The show is described as an evening with the two men, who co-hosted several travel shows, as they reflect on stories from their trips around the world.

Though billed as an apolitical event, politics has overshadowed much of the discussion surrounding it.

Critics have slammed the Amsterdam theater for hosting “Russian propagandists” and allowing them to profit by performing in Europe, calling it a “stab in the back” of the tens of thousands of Ukrainians who fled to the Netherlands because of Moscow’s invasion.

Others say that banning events based on politics would be stooping to the level of the Kremlin, which has silenced independent journalists, activists and artists inside Russia.

Around 25 protesters, several of whom wore Ukrainian flags around their shoulders, stood outside Theater Amsterdam in the rain as attendees arrived, shouting slogans like “Shame on you,” “Russians go home,” “Russia is a terrorist state” and “Russian propaganda kills.”

“I think you can hear why,” said Anna, a young woman from Ukraine who has been living in the Netherlands for two years, when asked why she was at the protest.

“We have to stop… Russian propaganda because it’s dangerous,” she said. “It’s important not only for Ukraine, but it’s important for everybody. Because it’s a really abusive country.”

MT
Pro-Ukrainian protesters outside the Amsterdam venue of Pozner and Urgant’s stage show earlier this year. Photo: Moscow Times

In the theater lobby before the sold-out show, some attendees took photos of protesters through the glass windows. Others could be heard discussing the news over glasses of sparkling wine.

“I was surprised at how our [fellow attendees] reacted — they looked away [from the protesters]. I looked right at them,” said Alisa, a Russian emigre who was going to the show with her friend.

“Many of the people who came to the show do not support the war, and we have a negative view of the war, of course,” she said. “The aggression in the crowd was frightening. We had fingers pointed at us and such. It’s good that there are police here.”

On the first day of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Urgant, who is often likened to U.S. late-night talk show host Jimmy Kimmel, posted a black square to his Instagram account with the caption “Fear and pain. No to war.” 

Although his show was taken off the air almost immediately afterward, he has since remained silent about the war. He did not respond to the Moscow Times’ request for comment.

Pozner, meanwhile, rose to fame in the West during the Cold War for his television appearances where he would explain the Soviet Union’s views and policies, a role he would later describe as “propaganda.”

His interview show on Channel One, which was watched by millions and often compared to “Larry King Live,” stopped airing after the invasion of Ukraine. He later said this was a move by the channel to make room for coverage of the war.

In a 2016 debate with Kremlin critic Alexei Navalny, Pozner said: “Yes, censorship exists [in Russia]. And I accepted it. I could have slammed the door [closed the show] and done nothing at all. But I believe that I am doing something useful for society. I’m making people think.” 

Though he has neither criticized nor supported the war in public, Pozner has suggested that the West bore responsibility for Moscow’s invasion because it refused Russia’s demand to block Ukraine’s path to NATO membership.

When asked about the protesters outside the venue, Pozner told the Moscow Times that it was “their right” to express their opinion but declined to comment further.

Theater Amsterdam declined to comment for this story, instead referring the Moscow Times to a May 24 statement published on its LinkedIn page. 

In its statement, the theater said it “stands for freedom of speech, creative expression and a safe environment for everyone who embraces the arts.”

“These performers have indicated that their program has nothing to do with the war and want to share their performance in an atmosphere of peace and freedom,” the theater said, noting that its staff had received threats and intimidation over the event.

Inside the theater sat Olga — a woman from Lviv, a Ukrainian city near the Polish border described by the Kremlin and Russian propagandists as an alleged hub of “Russophobia” — who moved to Amsterdam because of the war.

Speaking in Russian, she told the Moscow Times that she felt “embarrassed” to be at the event.

“I’ve been following Urgant and Pozner for about 15 years and I wanted to see them in person,” she said.

“Only here did I find out that Pozner supported the war,” she continued. “If I had known [beforehand], there’s no way I would have come.”

Source: Samantha Berkhead and Pyotr Kozlov, “Outrage in Amsterdam as Russian TV Celebrities Take the Stage,” Moscow Times, 29 May 2024. The emphasis is mine. \\\ TRR

“I dream of it happening, but I don’t think it will happen,” is how Vladimir Pozner responded when we asked him whether admits the possibility of returning to the television airwaves. In an interview with “Forbes Talk,” the journalist and TV presenter, whose eponymous program on Channel One has not been broadcast since the beginning of the “special operation,”* confessed that he misses this work very much. He told us why (with one exception) he has remained silent and not spoken about politics since 2022, what he has been doing all this time, and what he fears nowadays.

Vladimir Pozner’s full interview with Forbes Russia is much more interesting than its quoted highlights, below, but even more interesting, to me, were the inserted ads, which say a lot about the magazine and its readership. \\\ TRR

Vladimir Pozner is a Soviet and Russian journalist and TV presenter. He was born in Paris to a Russian immigrant and a Frenchwoman. In 1952, he moved to the Soviet Union, where he worked as a secretary for [the famed children’s poet] Samuil Marshak. He began his journalistic career as a commentator on the Soviet State Committee for Radio and Television’s North American service. Pozner became famous thanks to his debut on TV: in the 1980s, he and his U.S. colleague Phil Donahue co-hosted the “space bridges” between Leningrad and Seattle and, later, Leningrad and Boston. In the 90s, Pozner presented several original programs on U.S. television. He then returned to Moscow, where he did the political talk show Vremena (“The Times”) and the eponymous program Pozner. Several of his series about different countries have also been broadcast, including such programs, co-presented with Ivan Urgant, as England in General and in Particular and Single-Storey America.

Why Pozner remains silent

“The fact that you have me today [for an interview] is an absolute violation of my rules. It happened only because I owe you a debt, and I am used to repaying debts: I promised that I would give you an interview, and here I am giving it. I’m not going to talk anymore; I’ve made this decision for myself: no interviews, no statements, no comments, and so on. With rare exceptions, if I suddenly feel that there is some use in it, that it’s really worth doing, that it might be useful.

“I just decided for myself that the circumstances are such that I had better abstain for the time being. Especially since I am ninety years old, a time when people are usually long retired, and nobody asks [them], ‘Why are you retired?’ So I’m kind of retired.”

What he’s been doing for the last two and a half years

‘I’ve been thinking; I’ve been writing. I am writing a book. You know, Tolstoy once said, ‘If you can’t write, don’t write.’ That’s quite right, and a lot of people should have followed that advice. And I was not writing, but when I felt that I couldn’t help but write, I started writing. Don’t ask me what this book is about—I don’t like to talk about that at all.

“I’ve written a lot of books, but I reckon I’ve [actually] written [only] one [real book]. My very first one is Parting with Illusions, which is a serious work. The others have amused me and been enjoyable to me, and maybe to the reader, but I don’t consider them serious literature. This [new] book is definitely a serious book, and I don’t know how well it will turn out. Writing is quite difficult and painful for me personally. You weigh every word, but then the next day you read what you have written, and you are horrified. Sometimes you are happy [with what you’ve written], but very rarely.

“In addition, our team shot a large eight-part film about Turkey. It is good to go. We submitted it to Channel One, where it was approved, and now we are waiting on Mr. Ernst’s judgement (Konstantin Ernst, CEO of Channel One — Forbes).

“That’s what I’ve been doing. Well, and I have done [other] little things. I have done speeches, and I have been invited to talk to different, rather closed audiences. And then, of course, quite unexpectedly, there has been the duet with my close friend Ivan Urgant, in which we decided to reminisce about how we shot [our television travel series]. We did test runs in Dubai first and somewhere else. The success was tremendous, which, frankly speaking, amazed me, because we don’t do anything so spectacular: I don’t sing, and Vanya doesn’t dance. And then we started doing it seriously, because there were offers. We performed in Amsterdam, Frankfurt, Berlin, and Geneva. It was a triumph: people gave us standing ovations. So now we have fifteen more shows booked. A whole tour, or as they used to say, a ‘stint.’”

Is it hard for Pozner not to be on TV?

‘The word ‘hard’ is so [strong], but I do miss it a lot. I love it very much—it’s my thing. Pardon my immodesty, but I think I’m very good at it. And of course I wish I could [be on television], but that’s just the way it is. It’s a very hard question [whether it will be possible to return to television]. Generally speaking, I dream of it happening, but I don’t think it will happen. That’s the only answer I can give.

“The thing is that I made my first memorable appearance on Soviet TV screens at the age of fifty-nine, you know? [Other] people [my age] were getting ready to retire, but that was when I was debuting. I think that maybe that is why I still have this drive, this desire. I want [to work on air], but you know, you can’t always get everything you want. You have to make some compromises sometimes, or even admit defeat.

“There were offers [of work from western television channels]. I won’t name specific names, but they came from more than one country. But there was a condition! And the condition was this: ‘You must first speak out about Putin and about politics,’ and in a particular way. I said, ‘Look, that is not journalism; that is something else.’ They said, ‘Those are the terms.’ I said, ‘No. Thank you very much, but my answer is no.’”

“This society is [sic] held together by fear and faith”

“I was brought up by my quite pro-Soviet father and had a lot of faith in those ideas. I was almost nineteen years old when I arrived in the Soviet Union, and I became convinced that what my father had told me and the reality were different things. But I tried to persuade myself that it’s not a pure experiment, after all, that it’s not a laboratory experiment. It was a complex country with a complex history, and you had to understand that, you had to make concessions, and so on and so forth.

“This went on for quite a long time. I was a propagandist, not a journalist. I was a propagandist in the purest sense, trying to prove this was the right system and the best system. The first blow to my ideological edifice, a serious blow, came in ‘68 [when the USSR invaded Czechoslovakia]. And although I came up with an argument as to why [the invasion] was necessary, in my heart I realized that something was wrong.

“Gradually, my faith began to demand proof (although faith doesn’t require proof), but I failed to find it. By about the mid-1970s, I had come to the firm conclusion that this society is [was] held together by two things: it was held together by fear and by faith, which are like epoxy glue. That glue held it together, but not very well, and if it stopped holding it together the thing would fall apart. And this thing—I mean the Soviet Union—did in fact fall apart, and not because of Reagan; that’s nonsense. It was because people stopped being afraid and people stopped believing, and it was much more vital that they had stopped believing.

“That was completely unexpected to me. I guess I thought it would happen, but not as quickly as it did happen.”

What he fears at ninety

“I’m afraid of going blind: I can’t imagine how I’ll live in the world blind. I’m afraid of going mad without knowing I’m mad, that I’ll be taken somewhere and locked up, that I’ll think I’m normal and everyone will think I’m crazy. That is what I’m afraid of; there is that fear. I’ve had cancer twice: I’m not afraid of it. But I am afraid of [madness], and I’ve been afraid of it for a long time, not because I’m ninety years old. I am afraid of sharks, as you know, regardless of my age. 

“But [what am I afraid of] because I’m ninety? The only thing that’s already happening, and it’s hard—you know, you have to pay for everything, nothing is free—you get older and you lose loved ones, you outlive them. You live longer than your close friends, and so now Phil [Donahue] is gone. And Phil isn’t the only one. I’m quite afraid that more and more very close people will pass away and I’ll live on. It’s horrible.

“You know, this was what I thought: if it happens that I realize I’m not interested [in life] anymore, then I’ll find a way to end this stupidity. But I’m very, very interested.”

* When they publish materials about the special operation in eastern Ukraine, all Russian media outlets are required by Roskomnadzor to use information only from official Russian federal sources. We cannot publish materials which refer to the ongoing operation as an “attack,” “invasion,” or “declaration of war,” unless these are direct quotations (per Article 57 of the Federal Law on Mass Media). If a media outlet violates this requirement, it may be fined five million rubles, and its website may be blocked.

Source: Anton Zhelnov, “Vladimir Pozner to Forbes: ‘Sometimes you have to admit defeat,’” Forbes Russia, 12 September 2024. Translated by the Russian Reader

Victoria Honcharuk: Wall Street Investment Banker Turned Ukrainian Combat Medic

Victoria Honcharuk

She had traveled the world, had ambitious plans in business and finance, and worked on Wall Street at a major US bank, but returned to defend Ukraine side by side with her family.

Ukrainian Victoria Honcharuk graduated from the innovative Minerva University in California. Nowadays, however, she is one hundreds of combat medics at the frontline, saving the lives of wounded soldiers as they try to save us.

Ukrainska Pravda: Life recounts how Victoria’s life, full of hope and plans, changed after the outbreak of the full-scale war and how she made her choice for her homeland.

Life before the full-scale war

Victoria grew up in the small town of Baranivka in the Zhytomyr Region in an ordinary family. Her parents never traveled outside of Ukraine, so at the age of twelve she started earning money on her own because she wanted to study abroad. She admits that she could count only on herself to fulfill this desire.

As a teenager, Victoria won a grant from the U.S. State Department’s FLEX cultural exchange program, on which she studied at a high school in the United States and, after graduation, at a university in Lithuania. However, she studied at that university for only a year. Victoria says she realized that she could not spend four years in one place.

That was when she found out about Ukraine Global Scholars, an organization that helps Ukrainian children get a free education at schools and universities abroad, including in the United States.

“I grew up in a small community, and after I learned English and went to America on the FLEX program, I realized that there were so many interesting things outside of Ukraine. I always thought, We are such a big and free country, why can’t we take our resources and use them to become a country we can be proud of?

“I realized that to do this, we needed to learn from the know-how of other countries. That’s why I had a plan to go study, work for a while, gain experience, return to Ukraine, and make it the best country in the world,” recalls Victoria.

At the age of fifteen, she went to study in Texas on the FLEX program, where she lived for a year, and after studying in Lithuania, she enrolled at Minerva University, which Vika calls her “dream university.”

“It’s a university based in California, but the most interesting thing about it is that you travel and live in different countries every semester,” she says.

During her first year of study, Victoria lived in San Francisco. Later, her geography expanded significantly, and she gained knowledge and experience in South Korea, India, the United Kingdom, Germany, Argentina, Taiwan, and elsewhere.

“I had two majors there: computer science and business and finance statistics. I was most interested in combining and using statistics and data science in business and finance.

“During my last two years, I wrote a research paper on M&A (mergers and acquisitions) at large companies. During my studies, I worked in startups as an investment analyst, data analyst, and financial manager. My two specialties have always been intertwined in my work,” says Honcharuk.

After graduating in 2022, Victoria worked with technology companies in Citigroup’s investment banking department, as well as in the investment banking department of Morgan Stanley, a major holding company.

Victoria traveled the world and worked on Wall Street at a major U.S. bank, but returned to defend Ukraine side by side with her family.

From Wall Street to the frontline

When the full-scale war broke out, Victoria’s entire family—her sister, mother and father—decided to join the ranks of Ukraine’s defenders.

In the early months of the Russian invasion, Victoria was involved in volunteer work, throwing her energy into helping her family and the units in which they served.

“My goal was to provide my family and their units with everything they needed. It turned into small project of mine, then into an NGO registered in Britain. That’s what I was doing before I came back to Ukraine,” she says.

Victoria raised funds and was involved in delivering tactical medicine supplies. Thanks to her sister, who worked in medical evacuation, Vika always knew what to deliver and when and where to deliver. However, she could not stay in the United States for long, so in the winter of 2022, she decided that she had to return to Ukraine and “help with her hands.”

She admits that this decision was a “big leap” for her. Mentally, she readied herself for the worst—that she would live “in the open air in a puddle” and not eat anything. Nevertheless, she stresses that she “didn’t think twice” about leaving her warm New York office to help her family and her country.

“I worked on Wall Street at the largest bank in the country. The day before I went to Ukraine, we had a big gala event for clients, and then I got on a plane the next morning, went to Ukraine, put on my uniform and set off. It was winter, it was cold. A very big contrast.

“I had been preparing myself for this, and it was what I really wanted. As soon as I found the opportunity to be on the frontline, to work with my hands, to be part of the units, everything fell into place,” says Victoria after a year of service as a combat medic.

By the way, she acquired the skills for working as a paramedic by training with the Hospitallers. She learned some things from her sister and other combat medics, and the rest was gained on the frontline.

“As soon as I found the opportunity to be on the frontline, everything fell into place,” says Victoria Honcharuk.

The most difficult choice

Victoria serves in one of the hottest areas of the frontline—Bakhmut. Before that, she worked in Avdiivka. Now she is the leader of her crew. For the last six months she has been working as a paramedic in the brigade where her sister serves as an assault rifleman.

As the combat medic explains, there are two stages of evacuating the wounded: “case evacuation” and “medical evacuation.” Case evacuation is the first stage of evacuation from the frontline, when an armored vehicle or pickup truck enters the most difficult areas and evacuates the wounded from the battlefield to a stabilization center.

A medevac unit is a medical crew that takes the wounded from a casevac unit and evacuates them to the stabilization center. Vika initially worked in casevac, before switching to medevac.

“This person often changes. At first, I had a doctor with too much experience, and he was transferred to a stabilization center, and we were given a third person by the battalions we worked with.

“Broadly, we work like a crew, just like mobilized military medics. We are just an additional team. We arrive on the battlefield, take the wounded, and hand them over to experienced medics,” says the paramedic.

According to Victoria, her team has changed several times during her year of service, as the people who make up the team work on a volunteer basis. Many of them have regular jobs, which they alternate with volunteering at the front.

“They are at work for a month, and with me for a month. Right now, the most stable members of my team are my driver and me. My driver’s cousin was my sister’s commander, who unfortunately was killed in August this year, just as we started working with them. The driver and I found common ground and continue to work together. The third person is a doctor,” says Victoria.

Paramedic Victoria Honcharuk

The paramedic also spoke about the most difficult moments she has had to face during her year at the front. According to her, the most difficult thing is to make decisions in circumstances in which other people’s lives depend on them.

“There were moments when we came under shelling and had to decide what we were going to do: move, find shelter, or not evacuate at all. It was a choice between evacuating the wounded or hiding from the shelling. We needed to weigh the chances that we would get injured or that the injured person would die if we didn’t evacuate them,” says Victoria.

There were situations in which they had to approach the battlefield in an unarmored vehicle. They then had to carefully weigh all the risks.

“We drove an ordinary ambulance to within 500 meters of the contact zone. We were on duty together with an armored car and realized that if something hit within twenty meters of us, we were finished.

“My vehicle still has a broken windshield after one of these collisions from ten meters away. After that, we would have to decide what we were going to do, so it can be stressful,” Victoria admits.

According to Victoria, the hardest part is making decisions in situations in which other people’s lives depend on them.

Amid the challenges she faces today, Vika recalls her studies and experience abroad with gratitude, saying that working on Wall Street toughened her up, because sometimes she had to work hard, to the point of exhaustion. She could not sleep for days or even weeks until she got the job done.

“It’s the same here. If the enemy mounts an assault, we don’t sleep—we work. Sometimes you just have to wait, just like waiting four hours on Wall Street for someone to send you a financial model. Here [on the frontline — ed.] you wait for a challenge. Very transferable skills [in English in the original — TRR],” she says with a smile.

Frequent traveling also played a significant role in her “toughening-up.” Thanks to this, Victoria has all the necessary vaccinations.

“It is a very good thing when you are a combat medic, because I come into contact with blood. When your gloves get torn, you can get infected with something. But I lived in India and Korea, so I have all the vaccinations. I can adapt quickly, and I don’t need much to feel comfortable, so I didn’t need to get used to the minimalist life,” she says.

In addition to her work as a paramedic, Victoria is also involved in military tech projects with Ukrainian developers.

“I consider the development, use, and integration of AI into military operations to be one of my main priorities,” she stresses.

At first, Vika worked in “casevac,” before switching to “medevac.”

“Everyone I want to spend my time with is at war”

According to Victoria, she has short leaves from work, but she lives with her crew. She admits that it is hard to see people in the rear who are “disconnected from the war and think that they will be spared.”

“I have literally two or three friends left. Unfortunately, I don’t even want to talk to them now—all the same, I live with my crew. I need one day to see my parents, another day to eat everything I want to eat, and that’s it, I can go back.

“There is no connection due to this. Everyone I want to spend my time with is at war. We have leave for a couple of days, but we come back to civilian life with the people we live with on the frontline, and we live in our own bubble,” says Victoria.

Given how her life and realities have changed, she underscore that she doesn’t regret any of her choices. When asked what advice she would give to her fifteen-year-old self if she could, Victoria said:

“Well done. I don’t have any regrets. I would have worked harder on my physical fitness. (Laughs.) I would have told her that no matter what your profession and lifestyle is, you need to be strong and in the best shape you can be, because it’s physically hard nowadays.”

“There is nothing I regret,” the paramedic stresses.

Victoria’s experience as a woman in the military

According to Honcharuk, women in the army need to work “a little harder” at their positions, as there are gender biases there, as well as in the broader society.

“Every newcomer has to work hard to gain attention, but women have a little more difficulty due to prejudice. But if you don’t give up and show that you are a good fighter, that you joined up for the right reason, that you will work hard, you will get respect from people.

“I think the problems in the army are the same as the problems in society. It’s just a smaller version [of society],” Vika adds.

Vika is convinced that the fight for Ukraine is not only the duty of men.

And yet, she denies that men treat women in the army badly.

“I often hear that men treat women in the army badly, but this is not entirely true. Many women in Ukraine, unfortunately, position themselves as weak and needing protection. But we have to stand up for ourselves, stand up for Ukraine,” the paramedic argues.

She is convinced that the fight for Ukraine is not the duty of men, but of every citizen.

“Love for Ukraine is nurtured, and not necessarily from an early age. It’s not something you can kill. My sister and I are probably a very good example,” says Honcharuk.

The interview was recorded by Veronika Harmash, communications manager at Ukraine Global Scholars, and adapted by Diana Krechetova, journalist at Ukrainska Pravda: Life. All photos are from Victoria Honcharuk’s personal archive.

Source: Diana Krechetova, “From Wall Street to the front line: the story of a paramedic who left her job at a major US bank to defend Ukraine,” Ukrainska Pravda: Life, 19 December 2023. Translated by Alien Bio-Robot from the Future. Thanks to TV Rain for the suggestion. You can follow Victoria Honcharuk on Facebook and Instagram. \\\ TRR

Support Solidarity Zone and the Russian Direct Action Anti-War Resisters They Support

Fundraiser for care packages to prisoners

Packages, parcels, topping up personal accounts, and buying prisoners books and periodical subscriptions are a serious expense. Solidarity Zone pays for all or part of these expenses for 17 people imprisoned for their anti-war resistance.

Some of our beneficiaries have no one to support them outside the prison walls. Others have loved ones who are not financially able to provide for a person in prison. We try to support those prisoners, and provide them with at least the basic necessities.

We spend about €1000 a month on parcels, packages and topping up personal accounts for Solidarity Zone’s inmates.

Now our financial resources are running out, and we don’t have the means to provide our beneficiaries with everything they need in the next month. Therefore, we are launching a fundraiser to replenish resources and continue humanitarian support for prisoners arrested for anti-war resistance. We’re sure: together we can do it!

We are launching a fundraiser for €2000 — that would be enough to continue supporting political prisoners to the same degree in September and October. If we collect more, those funds will be used in the following months. Or perhaps, we’ll be able to support someone else.

Support the fundraiser in any way you can!

🪙 PayPal: solidarity_zone@riseup.net

🥷 Cryptocurrency:

Monero: 4B1tm6boA5ST6hLdfnPRG2Np9XMHCTiyhE6QaFo46QXp6tZ7Y6nJjE43xBBTwHM84bWwexR8nS4KH36JHujjc1kC8j2Mx5e

Bitcoin: bc1qn404lrshp3q9gd7852d7w85sa09aq0ch28s3v4

USDT (TRC20):

TRcCUHKSMY7iLJPvbDxLc6ZnvAud72jTgj

📣 Sharing is a way of showing support!

#PoliticalPrisoners#solidarity#fundraiser#english

Source: Solidarity Zone (Facebook), 3 September 2024. I’ve slightly edited the translation above so that it reads more smoothly. \\\ TRR

Limited edition posters!
Abolish! Hoodie
Solidarity Scarf
Derail T-Shirt
Abolish! T-Shirt (Grey)
Abolish! T-Shirt (Black)
Till the end of September you get a pack of three posters when you order any merch

Solidarity Zone has merch and so we are announcing a promotion that runs until the end of September. When you order any of our merch — a t-shirt, scarf or hoodie — you get a pack of three A3-format posters as a gift.

You’ll find more photos of the merch, size charts, and an order form on our website.

✊ All proceeds from sales of our merch go to support the Solidarity Zone collective. We are a horizontal, self-organized initiative and we have no permanent source of funding. So, your support is crucial to us!

📦 The merch is delivered by post from the EU.

❗️For security reasons we do not send merch to Russia and Belarus, nor can we guarantee delivery to Georgia due to the peculiarities of the country’s postal service.

Merch Ordering Zone (in English)

Source: Solidarity Zone (Facebook), 9 September 2024. Translated by the Russian Reader

Russia’s Fascist Meltdown: The Cliff Notes Version

Screenshot of Mediazona infographic, as published here

Russia is losing more and more men in its war against Ukraine.

As of 5 July 2024, Mediazona and its partners in the casualty counting project have ascertained the names of more than 58,000 Russian soldiers killed in action.

The real losses are twice as many, however. Journalists have calculated the actual number of war dead based on information from the probate registry. How they did their work is described in this article by Mediazona. You can read here about how our methodology has been corroborated.

The real losses of the Russian army, including mercenaries, in the war against Ukraine, come to 120,000 dead. The Russian army’s casualties are thus already greater than both the number of US military deaths since the Second World War and all the losses of the Soviet and Russian armies since 1945. Most of the men killed were between the ages of twenty and forty. Those who were younger were usually draftees and prison inmates, while those who were older were “volunteers.”

Seventeen thousand prison inmates recruited by the Wagner Group perished at Bakhmut, according to the mercenary organization’s own documents, as examined by Mediazona. Meanwhile, journalists had estimated that Wagner had lost around sixteen thousand men, which is nearly the same number. Wagner has recruited a total of 48,366 men during the war, meaning that a third of them were killed in the so-called Bakhmut meat grinder.

Prison inmates, “volunteers,” and conscripts, if we judge only by confirmed deaths, have borne the brunt of the losses in the war. At 47.4 percent, they constitute almost half of those who have been killed.

In over two years of war, 3,700 officers of the Russian army and other security forces have been killed, 430 of them in the rank of lieutenant colonel and above.

Between 200 and 250 men are killed every day. This year, the Russian army’s losses have risen dramatically. In 2023, an average of about 120 men were killed every day.

Source: “Every day up to 250 Russians are killed in the war,” WTF? newsletter (Mediazona), 5 July 2024. Translated by the Russian Reader

There are two points of view on Russia during the full-scale war. The first is that Russia has turned into a fascist militaristic state in which everyone marches in step and sincerely hates Ukraine. The second is that cynicism and apathy have won the day in Russia: people don’t care about the war as long as it doesn’t affect them personally. Both of these views are mistaken, according to the authors of “We Have to Live Somehow,” a study from the Public Sociology Laboratory (PS Lab).

The researchers traveled to Krasnodar Territory, Buryatia, and the Sverdlovsk Region, living there for a month and interacting closely with the locals. What they tell us does not fit into either of the two common stereotypes about Russians and the war. Here are a few of the tendencies they observed.

The war is invisible in daily urban life. Residents in the Sverdlovsk Region town of Cheryomushkin (whose name was deliberately changed by the researchers) could not recall a single event in support of (or against) the war during the year. In Ulan-Ude, the capital of Buryatia, the pro-war agitprop consisted of a single poster on a Lenin monument. In Krasnodar, pro-war banners still hung on buildings, but people had long ago removed pro-war stickers from their cars. There is no institutional support for the war at the municipal level: such support is the bailiwick of ideological loners and small groups of pro-war volunteers.

Apolitical Russians justify the war, but arguments like “NATO soldiers” and “defending Donbas” are not of primary importance to them. Rather, they simply want to save face themselves, because they take the accusations directed at their country personally. For this reason, Russians have previously been inclined to justify the actions of the state, even when they do not understand or approve them.

The majority of the populace is not opposed to the war. They may disapprove of it in some respects, but they simultaneously defend the state. For example, in the Sverdlovsk Region, women were outraged by the deaths of young soldiers at the front (“They are sending children to fight! Why?!”) while also parroting the propagandists’ arguments about the war against the “collective West” (“Them United States are hammering civilians!”). Non-opponents of the war argue that Russia has been proactive, defending itself rather than attacking (“Now the Luhansk and Donetsk Republics are part of Russia, but our guys aren’t advancing any further—they’re defending all of it”).

Non-opponents of the war regard the residents of Donbas as Ukrainians, not Russians. They scold Ukrainians from the “Donetsk People’s Republic” and the “Luhansk People’s Republic” (“They don’t defend themselves. They’ll be coming here [to Russia], and what, I’ll have to go fight in their place? I don’t want that”) and do not regard these areas as “their own” (“They are not my blood relatives, they are not my own people”).

While opponents and supporters of the war initially had bitter conflicts, solidarity between them has emerged despite their differences of opinion. Those who generally condone the war are increasingly questioning the official version of events, while those who oppose the war are beginning to listen to their opponents (“I have to build a life and continue living with these people”).

Russians try to pretend that the war has not impacted their daily lives in any way, but its signs still permeate their everyday lives and conversations. In the Sverdlovsk Region, a woman is going to “go to great lengths” to prevent her son from serving as a contract serviceman. In Buryatia, a volunteer says mundanely, “I have eight grandchildren, all boys. And it just happened that four more died at the front.” In Krasnodar, a sociologist’s source says he is glad that the city is not being bombed and that the “Wagnerians” did not come their way, but then confesses in a low voice that the future is hazy and “let’s put it this way: things have become a bit tense.”

The big takeaway, however, is that Russians are pushing the war to the back of their minds. And this is bad news for the Kremlin: it has failed to convince the public, over the past two years, that the invasion was launched in pursuit of noble ends. Even as they justify Russia, its citizens don’t understand what good the war does for them personally.

Source: “How do Russians feel about the war? There seems to be an answer to this question,” WTF? newsletter (Mediazona), 10 July 2024. Translated by the Russian Reader

A week ago, a Moscow court sentenced fifteen-year-old Arseny Turbin to five years in prison after convicting him on charges of “involvement in a terrorist organization.” The security forces accused the schoolboy of aiding the Free Russia Legion, which has been officially banned in Russia.

Convicted 15-year-old “terrorist” Arseny Turbin in slightly happier times. Source: Mediazona

Arseny lived with his mother Irina in the small city of Livny in the Oryol Region. Although he was one of the most successful pupils at the local prep school, he was bullied by his classmates, and yet his teachers did not respond to his complaints. At the war’s outset, Turbin supported the Kremlin’s actions, but later became disillusioned with the government and took an interest in politics, even telephoning [exiled online news channel] TV Rain and telling them that the Conversations about Important Things lessons at school were “utter nonsense.”

In early June 2023, Arseny wrote an email to the Free Russia Legion (an organization we described in detail in a previous newsletter). He wanted to сampaign against the war, but they asked him for too much personal information and he did not send the application form to these strangers. Instead, he started distributing leaflets criticizing the authorities and taking pictures of himself in front of the white-blue-white flag. (The Russian authorities regard this flag as a symbol of the Legion, which has been fighting against Russian forces in Ukraine.)

Meanwhile, a strange thing happened. Turbin made the acquaintance of someone called Maxim, who immediately gave him access to the Telegram channel Occupy Slutophilia 14 (similar names have been used on the Web by the fans of the late Russian neo-Nazi activist Maxim “Tesak” Martsinkevich) and asked him to help with the channel’s content by editing videos. The channel had only a few subscribers, and it featured posts in support of Yevgeny Prigozhin and far-right content revolving around Tesak. Investigators then used Turbin’s involvement in the channel to accuse him of neo-Nazism, despite the fact that the schoolboy’s father was from the UAE, and Turbin himself had been bullied at school due to his dark skin.

At the end of the summer, FSB officers searched the Turbins’ home and summoned Arseny for questioning. It was a very strange conversation: for almost an hour and a half, in different ways, two investigators questioned the schoolboy about his connections with the Free Russia Legion. At the end of the conversation, as Mediazona discovered, they assured the teenager that it was “normal” and “not against the law” to send an application to the Legion, which has been declared a “terrorist organization” by the Russian authorities.

The court was not interested in this peculiar circumstance, however. It was interested in Turbin’s statement, allegedly made during the interrogation, that he had sent the application: this was the basis for the charge that he had “joined” the “terrorist organization.” The thing is that Turbin did not say this. Mediazona has in its possession a full transcript of the conversation, and it simply does not contain mention of Turbin’s sending off the application. The investigators inserted it for their own convenience.

Irina Turbina was present at the interrogation. She says that the investigators retyped the statement three times because of mistakes, and suggests that they could have discreetly amended it after lulling her into a false sense of security.

After seeing the transcript, the investigator, Trunov, had even wanted to close the case. In February 2024, however, the investigation was assigned to another investigator, Irina Simonova. She spun the line about Turbin’s alleged neo-Nazi views, obtaining testimony from the boy’s classmates, who assured her that his “idol was the so-called Tesak,” that he had advocated “exterminating the Ukrainians,” and had supported Alexei Navalny. Irina Turbina does not believe this testimony, producing correspondence in which her son called Tesak a “blockhead” and himself a “liberal.” Turbina argues that her son’s classmates testified against him in exchange for “excellent high school diplomas.”

Due to the increased harassment at school, Turbina transferred Arseny to home schooling. He managed to pass his year-nine exams before the verdict was handed down. On 21 June, the court sentenced Arseny to five years in prison, although the prosecution had requested an even longer sentence of eight years. After the sentence was read, he burst into tears, telling his mother, “Mom, I’m sorry—forgive me for letting you down. But I really didn’t know I was violating any laws.”

No one looked for the mysterious Maxim. The court was also uninterested in Turbin’s conversation with the FSB officers who openly provoked the schoolboy and falsified his statement.

Source: “The story of 15-year-old political prisoner Arseny Turbin,” WTF? newsletter (Mediazona), 27 June 2024. Translated by the Russian Reader

PROMPT: Make an illustration on the theme of “Russia’s Fascist Meltdown”

Creating an illustration on the theme “Russia’s Fascist Meltdown” involves capturing the essence of nationalism, authoritarianism, and geopolitical tension. Here’s a description of an illustration:

The illustration features a powerful and imposing figure symbolizing the Kremlin, with a stern-faced leader resembling Vladimir Putin at the forefront. Behind him, the Russian flag waves prominently, but instead of the usual tricolor, it blends with darker hues suggestive of authoritarian control. The background is a stark urban landscape, reminiscent of Moscow’s skyline, but with ominous shadows and smoke rising in the distance.

In the foreground, there are smaller figures representing dissenters and protestors, their faces obscured in shadows or masked to symbolize anonymity and resistance. They hold signs with slogans advocating for freedom and democracy, contrasting sharply with the dominant figure of Putin. The atmosphere is tense, with a palpable sense of division and discord.

To further emphasize the theme of “meltdown,” the illustration includes elements like cracked ice or fire, symbolizing internal turmoil and instability within Russian society. The color palette leans towards shades of red, black, and grey, evoking a sense of danger and crisis.

Overall, the illustration aims to visually convey the complex and contentious dynamics surrounding Russia’s shift towards authoritarian nationalism, capturing both the gravity of the situation and the resilience of those who oppose it.

Source: ChatGPT

They Don’t Stay in Their Lane

Bizarre Beasts, “Tenrecs Will Not Stay in Their Lane”

If all crustaceans “want” to look like crabs, then tenrecs “want” to look like basically any other small mammal. These weird little guys are endemic to Madagascar—they’re native to nowhere else on Earth.

Source: Bizarre Beasts (YouTube), 7 April 2023. Thanks to Comrade Koganzon for the link and the BBC Radio 4 programme “Nature Table” for the inspiration.

Prominent Russian liberal in exile Gennady Gudkov wrings his hands over what the “coloreds” are doing to his Russian liberal fantasy “Europe”: “Europe’s new cultural (or multicultural?) code (if that really is Finland).” ||| TRR

Source: Gennady Gudkov (X), 6 July 2024

Good News No. 3: We Can Do It!

  • We can build and work. We have been creating many new things — from cleaning firms [kliningovykh firm] and journalism projects to organizing impressive professional conferences and medical services the likes of which have never been seen!
  • We can overcome animosities and help one another! We have built outstanding platforms on the internet to help those who have it worse than we do. (However, it is still difficult to say this about the Russian opposition.)
  • We are creating our new culture!

Source: “A Time Without a Place, or How to Survive New Circumstances,” Moscow Times Russian Service, 5 July 2024. Translated by the Russian Reader

Inside Russia with Ekaterina Schulmann

Sciences Po and its Provost Sergei Guriev, a world-renowned Russian academic and economist who had to flee his country in a day in 2013, were honoured to welcome ‪@Ekaterina_Schulmann‬ for a very exclusive conference on 20 April, 2023. This political scientist and social media sensation guest speaker addressed the serious matters of the Russian regime stability and the dynamics of public opinion.

Source: Sciences Po (YouTube), 8 May 2023. My question, had I been in the auditorium for this fascinating lecture, would have been to the audience: how many of you are neither Russian nationals nor speak Russian? I suspect that the numbers of such non-Russian nationals and non-Russian speakers were quite low. And why was this lecture delivered in English, not French? ||| TRR

Source: unsolicited ad on Facebook

On 2 July 2024, International Law Club successfully organized an academic discourse entitled “Russia and NATO: Ceasefire in Ukraine.”

The speakers for the program included Dr. Yubaraj Sangroula (Professor of International Law), Dipak Gyawali (Former Minister of Ministry of Water Resources, Nepal), Dr. Govind Kusum (Former Secretary of Ministry of Home Affairs), Prem Chandra Rai (From Himalayan Development Affairs Council, Nepal), Yugichha Sangroula (Masters in International Humanitarian Law from Geneva), Dmitry Stefanovich (From IMEMO RAS, Moscow)

The welcoming remarks for the discourse were delivered by Anton Maslov, First Secretary and Director of the Russian House. The distinguished Chief Guest of the program was Seniormost Advocate Krishna Prasad Bhandari.

Dr. Dipak Gyawali provided valuable insights into the historical context of the Russia-Ukraine conflict, emphasizing its longstanding nature within the framework of NATO-Russia dynamics.

Professor Dr. Yubaraj Sangraoula shed light on the hegemonic influences and Western interference in global affairs, highlighting the concept of a rule-based international order that has been divisive.

Assoc. Prof. Yuggichhya Sangroula emphasized the importance of interpreting international law in a balanced manner, noting the significant contributions of Asian nations to its development alongside European nations.

Assoc. Prof. Prem Chandra Rai advocated for adherence to the UN Charter as the foundation of international law, stressing the need for inclusive peace initiatives that engage all relevant parties, including Russia.

Dr. Govind P. Kusum underscored the disproportionate impact of global conflicts on developing nations and emphasized the urgent global need for peace and security.

Mr. Dmitry Stefanovich discussed the inadequacy of mere ceasefires and called for sustainable solutions and increased global cooperation, particularly from the Global South, to address ongoing conflicts.

The subsequent question and answer session facilitated critical discussions on ceasefire strategies and institutional reform. Speakers analyzed geopolitical dynamics, and Western dominance, and proposed measures for achieving global peace and security, with a focus on strategies applicable to third-world nations.

Overall, the seminar provided a platform for robust dialogue and strategic insights into resolving international conflicts and fostering a more peaceful world order.

We sincerely express our gratitude towards the speakers, guests, and participants for their involvement.

The Club would like to thank the Russian House, especially the Director of Russian House, Mr. Anton Maslov for supporting us in organizing this academic discourse and acknowledge the presence of Ms. Alena Danilova, Press Secretary from the Russian Embassy at this program of ours.

Source: Russian House in Kathmandu (Facebook), 4 July 2024. See “How to Escape from the Russian Army” (New York Times, 27 June 2024) for a slightly less sanguine perspective on Russian-Nepalese relations.

Irina and Anna’s Big Adventure

Irina Nippolainen and Anna Trusova

Pensioners Irina Nippolainen and Anna Trusova, friends and residents of the small Karelian town of Segezha, fled Russia in the spring of 2023 after the FSB came to search their homes. Anna and Irina were forced to make a long trek to Azerbaijan via Belarus before making their way to Germany, where they now have residence permits and social housing, and where they hope to find work. Meanwhile, back in their home country their relatives have been summoned for questioning in the criminal investigation against them. Journalists at the website Okno tell the story of the two women, who chose forced emigration over unfreedom.

ESCAPE

On 20 March 2023, 60-year-old Irina and 58-year-old Anna said goodbye after taken a stroll and went home. A few minutes later, Irina called Anna and told her that the FSB had come to see her. Anna rushed to her house after Irina’s call.

“As soon as I rang Irina’s doorbell, I immediately turned on the video on my phone to put the squeeze on them: Who the hell are you guys? The FSB guys saw that I was filming on my phone and immediately called someone, saying, ‘She’s here, come over.’ Anyway, it transpired that they had come for both of us.”

During the search, the FSB officers confiscated their phones and computers from the two pensioners. The search warrant stated that the searches were part of a criminal investigation into “public calls to engage in activity threatening state security.” Anna and Irina guessed that the case had been triggered by a denunciation. They both had written many posts on their VKontakte pages about their opposition to war, and in response had received a “barrage of hatred” from those who had read the posts.

“It was stressful. I lost eight kilograms during that time: I was so worried, I didn’t eat, and I didn’t know what would happen. I knew that people in Russia are sent to pretrial detention centers at any age even for sneezing at the authorities, and I did not know what exactly the law enforcers would find in the devices they confiscated and how they would interpret what they found. As soon as we were searched, my children immediately got involved in the problem, checking out everything they could: internet sites, their acquaintances, and then their acquaintances who had left the country. They decided how we should proceed—where and how to get asylum or other options. After analyzing everything, they decided that a humanitarian visa was the best option. We had to decide where to go, where to stay, and what to take with us,” says Irina.

They considered fleeing to two countries—Finland and Germany—but decided on the latter because it was easier to get a visa there.

But first Irina and Anna went to St. Petersburg, because they had to get papers for Anna’s dog Ramona. They stayed with an acquaintance of Anna’s, but the woman was very afraid that she would be “prosecuted for her connection” with the fugitive opposition activists, so they had to move out.

Irina, Ramona, and Anna

“Our children, who were assisting us, gave us the contact information for a man who did not know us at all but who wrote, ‘Come and stay as long as you want’. He helped us out and fed us, and we spent all that time while we were taking care of business at his house,” they explain.

Anna and Irina stayed in St. Petersburg for a week before departing for Azerbaijan.

They did not travel to Baku directly. For security reasons, they got themselves new cell phones, discussed the route, decided not to buy plane tickets in Russia, but to do it in Belarus, and went to Belarus by cab, paying 20,000 rubles [approx. 200 euros] for the fare.

“We took everything into account because we didn’t know how quickly they would come for us. In fact, we were very surprised that they didn’t nab us right away. We also chose Belarus because the dog was with us, and we felt bad about putting her in the luggage hold. Belavia is one of the few airlines that allow passengers to transport small animals in a carrier on a seat in the passenger cabin,” says Irina.

Irina and Anna flying from Minsk to Baku

After taking a cab to Minsk, they immediately went to the airport, bought tickets, and flew to Azerbaijan at night. In Baku, Irina and Anna initially settled in a small hotel.

“I was in such a state that my hair stood on end. For Anna, it was like an adventure, but for me it was like a misfortune, because I had left my home, my husband, and my pets. I didn’t want to leave my home or my country. That’s why I was very anxious. I even reached out to a psychologist from an aid organization, but she didn’t help me much,” Irina says.

Anna’s mood was a little different.

“I’m generally a traveler, but I hadn’t been able to travel lately. First there was the pandemic, then this whole thing happened. Not that I was freaking out about it, of course; I was freaking out for other reasons. But when it happened, I put three bathing suits in my suitcase—Ira makes fun of me—and went to the airport. I assumed I might have difficulties in Russia due to my intemperate tongue: I supposed that I would have to leave. I have a daughter in the Czech Republic, but the Czech Republic has a very bad attitude towards Russians, and they wouldn’t give me a visa. I thought that I would go to India, it’s quiet and peaceful there. My suitcase was initially packed with summer clothes. Of course, I was a bit nervous about the dangers. But basically, I always try to stay positive and hope for the best,” says Anna.

Anna, Ramona and Irina on the beach in Baku

Irina and Anna ultimately stayed in Baku for four months. They submitted the paperwork for humanitarian visas to Germany quite quickly, and had been approved by early June. But due to the local and the German bureaucracies they had to wait a long time for their papers. During this time, the pensioners already had their own circle of contacts—their landlady, their neighbors, and other refugees from Russia.

“And while there was uncertainty as to whether we would be granted a visa or not, we were already considering Azerbaijan as a place to live, because we could have lived there on our pensions. We had already found some channels for cashing money there, because our bank cards didn’t work there anyway. But still, we didn’t consider ourselves safe there,” Irina explains.

“GOD, HOW DID YOU BEAR IT ALL?”

In July, all their papers were in hand, so Irina and Anna began packing for Germany. They decided to make their way to Georgia first, since it was cheaper to fly to Germany from Tbilisi than from Baku. They went to Georgio by bus, stayed in Tbilisi for a couple of days before flying to Germany.

“When we arrived in Germany, I was already on VKontakte recounting all our adventures. And people wrote, “God, how did you bear it all?” Because there were a lot of hard moments. Personally, I was constantly stressed out, but it had become a way of life, you know. Anya is fine, she’s easygoing, but I can’t improvise when it comes to serious matters, I have to prepare and think things over. If I hadn’t followed all those rules, maybe we could have flown to Germany more easily, who knows. I’m a thorough person, I don’t want to lose money and end up stranded at the airport not knowing what to do. That is, I was preparing, I was checking out all the chat rooms and websites, seeing what papers we needed to get and where to go. There was a lot of preparation just for the dog. Without the dog, we would have done it all ten times easier, if not more. Because in different countries there are particular papers and certain vaccinations you have to have, and the airlines have certain requirements for the carrier. Ramona is a basically a ‘homeowner’—she had three portable houses,” Irina says.

“The atmosphere is cool”

“For the first time in her life, probably, when leaving Baku, Irina took sedatives because the dog in its carrier had to be placed in the trunk of the bus. And I was so worked up that even I took them too,” Anna remarks.

Anna and Irina flew to Frankfurt, where they were met by a friend of Irina’s who had lived in Germany for a long time. They had to get to their initial placement site, the town of Suhl in Thuringia, which is a three-hour drive from Frankfurt.

“But when we arrived there, we were told that pets were not permitted. Ukrainians used to bring pets there with them, but since now there are few Ukrainians in this camp and mostly Muslims, who have a bad attitude to dogs and are afraid of them, it is prohibited. So we urgently began looking for help on the chat rooms. A Ukrainian family agreed to take Ramona in for a while. They lived right next to the camp, and so we would go to their house to walk the dog. But then this young woman found out she had allergies, so Ana’s daughter quickly came from the Czech Republic and took Ramona away,” Irina explains.

A room in a German dormitory for refugees

The refugee camp where the pensioners were initially placed was a complex of five buildings, mostly inhabited by people from Arab countries.

“It was a bit scary to live in such an unfamiliar environment, given that the doors to the room in which we were put were unlocked. The police even came once because of a conflict in the building. We also had our passports taken from us and there was a risk that we would be processed in a different status—as refugees, even though we had ‘humanitarian visa’ stamped on our papers. We wrote everywhere, because they said that if we were registered as refugees, we could change this status only through the courts, and the courts could take years. That was scary. I said that we could not even return to Russia without a passport. Basically, it was a massive problem. I’d only recently been released, and I had put on two or three kilograms, because one thing or another was causing stress, but there was no getting around it,” Irina recounts.

Everything worked out well, ultimately. After a week, they were moved to the town of Greiz, a two-hour drive from Suhl. There they were allocated a social apartment, started to receive an allowance, were insured, and were issued social security numbers. By October, Anna and Irina had received residence permits for three years. During all this time, however, the pensioners had to confront the famous German bureaucracy more than once.

“They have an algorithm, as it were. But the human factor often gets in the way. People who work in this system, they do not know all the laws, or often they do things just to check off the boxes. But our case was quite peculiar for them: we are Russian pensioners, we have humanitarian visas, and they probably have a million other refugees here. Things were difficult, but when you look back, you think, What was there to worry about?” said Anna and Irina.

After the paperwork was completed, the friends moved again, but not far—to the city of Gera, thirty kilometers from Greiz. Each of them found rented accommodation there, which is paid for by the municipality. The apartments there are rented empty, with no furniture or appliances.

“When we moved from one place to another, they stopped paying us in the old place, but here they hadn’t started paying us yet, and it took two months to process the registration. So for two months we were without money or furniture,” Irina explains.

Since she had not yet been discharged from social housing, they could still live there together legally for some time and work on furnishing their new homes.

“The Ukrainians who live here have set up a help chat room and chat rooms for selling different things. I bought a bed and a chest of drawers from Ukrainians. I got some things for free. Germans often sell things they don’t need for very cheap. For example, I bought a complete kitchen set for only 100 euros, which is practically nothing. Now I’m looking for a bigger refrigerator,” Irina says.

Irina’s apartment after she furnished it

Anna, on the other hand, found an app similar to the Russian website Avito, where used furniture was sold, and bought almost everything she needed at wholesale prices.

“The only thing I was left without was a kitchen. I didn’t have a stove, but I got a microwave, and I could survive with a microwave. I bought a kettle. And that’s how I lived for the first few months,” she said.

The pensioners were at pains to point out that no one refused to help them. People who had also immigrated to Germany, some twenty years earlier and others two years earlier, offered them bedding, dishes, and household supplies. When Irina and Anna had settled in, they passed some of these things on to a family from Ukraine.

Expiring products are given to immigrants for next to nothing

People who have been granted humanitarian visas in Germany can choose not to work and live on benefits. But they can try to find a job if they want. Before they retired, Anna was involved in marketing cosmetics, while Irina helped animals. After ten years at the official municipal animal shelter, she ran a mini-shelter for five dogs, one of which she ultimately adopted. Finding a job in Germany is still difficult for them.

“We don’t speak German, so the opportunities to find work are few and far between for the time being. I am registered at the job center, while Irina is now registered with the Sozialamt, and she can live on her pension in peace, but I will only go on 31 July to test the level of my German. God willing, I will test out at A1, since I almost got A’s in German back in school. After taking this test, I do not know when I will be able to take German-language classes. Many emigrants take these courses two or three times. Then again, I’m old, so things don’t stick in my head nowadays. Of course, I would like somehow to learn the language faster and integrate faster,” Anna says, laughing.

Irina says that she has not been assigned to an integration course, so for the time being she is also living without knowledge of the German language and therefore jobless. While she was still living in Greiz, she worked a two-hour trial day as a seamstress in a local factory . Irina liked it very much. When she moved to Gera, she also wrote to one of the factories there, but was told that German was required. Getting a job is likewise important to Irina because she wants to invite her husband, who stayed behind Russia, to join her in Germany, which is impossible to do if she is unemployed. Irina’s husband would also need to know German, but how and where he can learn it and pass the test for the simplest level is still unclear. Irina herself attends German language courses, but they are run by volunteers and thus unofficial.

Anna and Irina say that even without jobs they have enough to do—they have traveled all over the area.

“We have been traveling a lot since day one. While we didn’t have papers, we used to walk, and then we got the chance to buy transit passes that enable us to travel by rail, buses, trams, and subways,” says Irina, who has also been to travel to Finland to visit her children, and to Stockholm and Copenhagen to meet friends.

Anna has bought a sewing machine and begun sewing.

“I used to do needlework, but in recent years things had not been coming together. Now I have started knitting curtains, and I will start weaving; I want to do a lot of things. I knitted myself a sweater. I bought brushes and paints and started drawing a bit, but have given it up for the time being. Mostly, I want to walk more. We are from Karelia and have a tradition of walking as the first thing one needs to do. And I had a dog then. Here I bought a bicycle as soon as I got the furniture: I jumped on the bike and went riding. You have to see everything around you. It takes a lot of time to see everything, to photograph it, to edit it, to upload it to the internet. So there is not enough time,” she explains.

By the way, both pensioners are each on their third VKontakte page: their previous pages had been blocked by the Russian authorities.

“DID THEY WRITE ABOUT BUCHA?”

Karelian law enforcement never forgot Irina and Anna.

In April 2024, it transpired that a criminal case had been opened against the two émigrés on charges of disseminating “fake news” about the Russian army. They found out about it because Irina’s husband was summoned to testify, for some reason, in the criminal investigation against Anna. Only when he met with the investigator, it transpired that Irina was also being prosecuted on the same charge. The husband refused to answer the investigator’s questions, invoking Article 51 of the Constitution (which permits an individual not to testify against themself or their spouse). Anna’s sister was then summoned for questioning in the same investigation. A little later, it transpired that both Anna and Irina had been put on the federal wanted list. And shortly before this interview, a person unknoiwn, who introduced himself as a policeman, wrote to Anna via WhatsApp and asked her where she was.

How many criminal “fake news” cases have been launched in Russia

In March 2022, after invading Ukraine, Russia adopted laws that criminalized disseminating “fake news” about the Russian army and “discrediting:” its actions. As of February 2024, 402 such cases had been brought. Dozens of Russians have been sentenced to lengthy prison terms for allegedly violating the law. According to human rights activists, this is tantamount to military censorship.

It is still unknown why the criminal case was launched. The relatives were asked during questioning what Irina and Anna had written on their first VKontakte pages. They made a special point of asking, “Did they write about Bucha?”

“It’s no fun feeling like a criminal. Although we all know what it means now in this [sic] country. In short, the crackdown continues: you are on the right side, and they are on the wrong side. They have to do something: there’s probably no one left in Karelia to sink their claws into anymore, but they need fulfill quotas. It’s a crackdown for its own sake. I feared for my relatives, because way back in 1938 there were so-called enemies of the people, and children, wives, and husbands of enemies of the people. I’m afraid lest it come to this,” Irina says.

The human rights activists consulted by Anna and Irina have advised them not to return to Russia before the regime changes, otherwise they will be sentenced to hard time in prison.

“FOR THREE DAYS I BAWLED LIKE A BELUGA”

Both émigrés follow the news from Russia closely. They argue that the country is “hurtling into an abyss.”

“What is happening is simply absurd. It feels like the country exists in a kind of distorted reality in which good is evil, and black is white. They are engaged in such insanity, frankly, and you don’t understand how it is possible to support all of this. And then there are the people who have gone crazy on a nationwide scale and who think everything is fine there, that it’s the way it should be. I worked at a polling place for many years and I used to say all the time that when we socialize only with our own kind, we don’t see what the rest of the people are like, but I saw all kinds of people at the polling station. I know that might sound kind of arrogant, but I saw how massively ignorant people were. I’ve always been skeptical of the claim that the Soviet Union had the best education system. I don’t know how it was the best if it didn’t teach people to think, and if people blindly trust the authorities. The authorities are king and god to them, as this whole situation has shown. Basically, you get the feeling that all people have come down with insanity, and some are immune. The analogy with Hitler’s Germany immediately comes to mind, where the people were fooled in the same way, gulled by propaganda. Maybe there is still hope that if the regime changes and they tell folks on TV how it really was, then…. We are now like spectators looking at Russia from the outside, and it’s scary to watch what is happening there,” Irina says.

When asked how they reacted to the news of politician Alexei Navalny’s death, Anna is unable to reply. She immediately starts crying.

“That’s how we reacted,” Irina explains, crying too.

“It’s good that my daughter was here that day: we went to Munich with her. I spent the whole day with them. But in the evening they went to a concert, and I got on the Munich chat rooms and found out that there would be a rally on Freedom Square and went there,” says Anna.

Alexei Navalny’s Death

The news of Alexei Navalny’s death came on 16 February 2024. He had been serving a nineteen-year sentence for “extremism,” after being convicted on seven criminal charges, including “creating an extremist community.” During his imprisonment, he was sent to a punishment cell twenty-seven times, spending almost 300 days there. After the politician’s death, pickets to mourn his passing were held in Russian cities, and the picketers were detained by the police en masse. The authorities refused to hand over his body to his relatives for a long time, demanding that they bury him in secret. Navalny’s associates argue that he was murdered and blame President Vladimir Putin for his death.

“I bawled like a beluga for three days. I still can’t even look at the photos of him calmly,” Irina adds.

“In the past, Ira, you used to say, ‘Navalny will be released and I’ll go home,'” her friend remarks.

Irina doesn’t make any predictions now that she has emigrated.

“I don’t make any predictions and I don’t listen to them. My motto now is: do what must be done and what will be will be. And I would also add: do what you have to do and what you are able to do. What matters most is saving yourself and your loved ones. We don’t know how long this will last. Analyzing things even as they stand now, I can confidently say that nothing good is going to happen…. Well, how should I put it? Nothing good is going to happen quickly. But I’m not ruling out either possibility: that I’ll stay here, or that I’ll go back there. I’ll go home as soon as I can. If nothing changes there, I’ll stay here.”

Anna, however, says that she has almost no one left in Russia: her daughter emigrated to the Czech Republic back in 2016, and she hardly communicates with her relatives who stayed behind in Russia.

“I will be better off here anyway. As long as they don’t kick me out, I’ll stay here,” she adds.

The pensioners nevertheless try to keep involved in Russian politics. They traveled to Leipzig to sign a petition supporting Boris Nadezhdin’s presidential candidacy and then to Berlin to vote in the presidential election.

Irina signing a petition in support of Boris Nadezhdin’s presidential bid

“There was such a huge queue. Because we were afraid of missing the train, we cut the queue a bit. A lot of people could not vote because, I think, only two polling stations were open in Germany—in Berlin and in Bonn. There were a lot of people who wanted to vote. We stood in line there with Yulia Navalnaya. And I talked to Mikhail Khodorkovsky, and we had our pictures taken with Ekaterina Schulmann. There were so many celebrities, and the queue itself was very cool. There were a lot of young people, all chanting “Russia without Putin.” But there were also a few pro-Putin people who have lived in Germany for twenty years and go vote for Putin, and we trolled them a little bit. But this is life, this is reality,” says Irina.

Irina Navalnaya, Kira Yarmysh, and Mikhail Khodorkovsky

What do Anna and Irina dream of?

“Grandchildren!” Anna answers immediately. “And first of all, of course, that the war end!”

“The first thing I wish for is that the war end. And the second is for me to go home,” says Irina.

Source: “‘It’s no fun feeling like a criminal’: female pensioners from Karelia emigrated to remain free,” Okno, 11 June 2024. Translated by the Russian Reader. Thanks to Comrade Koganzon for the heads-up.

Five Profiles in Courage and Compassion

When Putinism lies in ruins, Russians will remember the fearless moral clarity of this prison letter from Darya Kozyreva, a medical student first expelled from university and then arrested for her antiwar actions.

Darya Kozyreva

‘Russia is wrapped in a heavy, impenetrable cocoon, a cocoon of silence. How many crimes the Putin dictatorship has committed, how many foreign cities it has seized and devastated, how many killings and tortures it has meted out, and the response to all these outrages is a deafening silence.

‘Many prefer not to know what is happening, to close their eyes and stop listening. Many deceive themselves, wishing to be deceived — after all it is so easy to believe blindly what the television says, even if it is broadcasting the most monstrous lies.

‘But many know perfectly well what this vile regime is doing. They endure the burden of their dissent, their outrage, their anger. And all the same, they are silent.

‘Just as any crime is committed with somebody’s tacit consent, so any dictatorship is maintained thanks to the people’s silence. A colossus with feet of clay will be worthless if all the dissenters speak out.

‘But they are silent.

‘One person thinks that everything has been decided, and that there is no reason for them, a minor figure, to get mixed up in this. Another hopes that others will say everything — but those others also find excuses to remain silent.

‘The real reason for this silence is human fear, visceral fear. No dictatorship can make everyone believe in it — therefore it constantly resorts to fear, its first and last instrument for subjugating the people.

‘Germans in the era of Hitler obediently shouted ‘Heil,’ understanding the consequences of disobedience; Soviet people in the era of Stalin were afraid to whisper in their own kitchens for fear of being denounced. The steamroller of repression doesn’t need to crush every dissenter, just a few demonstrative examples, and the rest will gag their own mouths.

‘The absurdity of Putinist repression has reached such heights that any trifle can become a pretext for persecution – and no one knows what one can say. The criminal in the Kremlin is satisfied; that’s exactly what he needs. As long as everyone is silent, his own skin will be safe.

‘That is precisely why one cannot stay silent. No, human fear is understandable: it is very difficult to risk one’s position, one’s future, one’s freedom. To say nothing of the fact that many have families — for these people, the fear is doubled. But will it be easier for these families to live under a dictatorship, under tightening screws, behind an iron curtain?

‘A dictatorship can continue to wreak its atrocities, its lawlessness, as long as it feels strength and power. Nothing will change as long as everyone remains submissively silent.

‘So perhaps the time has come to start speaking?

‘Everyone who can speak, must speak. The individuals who dared to speak up are now too few to move anything. Everyone must speak, who does not agree with the Moscow regime. Individuals can easily be put behind bars for their words, because they are individuals. But there are not enough prisons for everyone, for all the dissenters in Russia. Even if the regime builds just as many especially for them.

‘When, having overcome fear, everyone begins to speak out, it will time for Putin’s gang to be afraid.

‘No evil lasts for ever, any dictatorship will inevitably collapse. It can collapse of its own weight, like the USSR, or thanks to the uprising of the people.

‘Don’t let this dictatorship live any longer than it can. Speak out, people!’

Source: Robert Horvath (X), 25 June 2024. Originally published in Russian by Holod on 25 June 2024 with this preface: “Daria Kozyreva is one of the youngest political prisoners in Russia. Until two years ago, she was in medical school at St. Petersburg State University and was politically active. In 2023, she was charged with an administrative offense for an anti-war post on [the Russian social media network] VKontakte and expelled from the university. On 24 February 2024 Kozyreva was detained after she pasted a leaflet containing a poem by the poet on the monument to [Ukrainian poet] Taras Shevchenko. Kozyreva faces five years for “repeatedly discrediting the Russian army.” She is in a pretrial detention center in St. Petersburg, where she is awaiting trial. There, she wrote a column about silence, fear and hope specially for Holod. We have published it as is.” Thanks to Simoni Pirani for the heads-up. Photo of Ms. Kozyreva, above, courtesy of RFE/RL.

Kneeling in the midst of the sedge, Linda Yamane sings faithfully an Ohlone song expressing gratitude to the plants after gathering material for her baskets. Once lost due to the Spanish colonization in the 18th century, the Ohlone basket-weaving skill was restored by Linda, who made her first tribal basket in 1994. Woven from willow sticks and sedge roots, the baskets played an essential role in the daily life of Ohlone people, who strongly connected to nature back to the old days. In the revival of the intricate basketry, Linda is motivated to bring about respect and appreciation of the traditional art, and the Ohlone spirit, living on in the mind of descendants, is thus aroused.

Source: Wood Culture Tour (YouTube), 23 June 2015

“Using archived ethnographic research, Linda Yamane is bringing back the language of the Ohlone, a Northern California tribe.”

Source: “Reviving the Ohlone Language,” Smithsonian Magazine (YouTube), 23 February 2010

Source: Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 30 June 2024. Photos by the Russian Reader

[…]

Desperate to talk to his wife, he signaled to a tall, skinny orderly who was cleaning his room that he wanted to use his phone. The Russian man quickly understood and when Mr. Shahi said, “Nepali, Nepali,” the cleaner opened a translation app on his phone.

“Get me a cellphone. I pay you later,” was Mr. Shahi’s message.

The Russian man smiled.

The same day, a new phone appeared.

[…]

They began to panic. In Russia, deserters are punished by military courts and can spend years in prison. But then they saw a taxi coming down a road and waved it down. Mr. Khatri said he frantically tapped open Google Translate on his phone and used it to tell the driver they were lost tourists and needed to get to Moscow. The driver took them all the way — 15 hours — and at the end, refused to take a single ruble.

Mr. Khatri worked with middlemen to get a flight to Kathmandu. Now back home in Rolpa, he said: “Some Russians are quite helpful. I could have died if that driver hadn’t helped us.”

Mr. Shahi had similar kind words for the Russian orderly. With the new phone, he spoke to his wife. She borrowed heavily from relatives — $8,000 this time — to pay another group of traffickers who said they could get her husband out.

On the morning of Jan. 23, Mr. Shahi gingerly stepped out of the Rostov hospital. He hobbled to a nearby market where a taxi was waiting for him. The driver communicated through a translation app, telling Mr. Shahi: Don’t talk. I’ll do the talking. If we get stopped, I’ll tell them you’re sick and headed to the hospital.

They drove all day to the one place that could help with the final stage of the escape: The Embassy of Nepal, in Moscow.

[…]

Source: Bhadra Sharma and Jeffrey Gettleman, “How to Escape from the Russian Army,” New York Times, 27 June 2024

With his immersive documentary “Real,” Sentsov takes viewers inside Ukraine’s war trenches, after unknowingly turning on the GoPro camera on his helmet.

Oleg Sentsov was used to fighting Moscow even before he enlisted in the Ukrainian Defense Forces, shortly after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022.

It’s just that previously, instead of a gun, he’d used his camera.

When Russian special forces arrived in Crimea in 2014, Sentsov was on the ground documenting the illegal annexation of the region. He was arrested, sent to Russia, and given a 20-year sentence on  charges of “plotting terrorism.”

Following a coordinated effort by the European Film Academy, Amnesty International and the European Parliament with the support of directors like Ken Loach, Pedro Almodóvar and Agnieszka Holland — Sentsov was finally released on September 7, 2019, as part of a Ukrainian-Russian prisoner swap.

In November 2019, the Ukrainian film director and human rights activist was able to collect the 2018 Sakharov Prize for Freedom of Thought that was awarded to him by the European Parliament. Named after Russian dissident Andrei Sakharov, the award honors people who have “dedicated their lives to the defense of human rights and freedom of thought.” 

Even while behind bars, Sentsov continued to work. Via covert letters smuggled out of prison by his lawyer, he directed “Numbers,” an adaptation of his own stage play about life in a dystopian, authoritarian state. The parallels to Sentsov’s own life were obvious. 

But Sentsov is no knee-jerk nationalist. His 2021 feature “Rhino,” which premiered at the Venice Film Festival, is a look at the chaos that engulfed Ukraine following the collapse of the Soviet Union and how crime and corruption filled the resulting power vacuum. 

‘Live’ from the trenches

But “Real,” Oleg Sentsov’s latest film, is unlike anything he’s made before. 

It begins without explanation or warning. We are suddenly in a foxhole, hearing the frantic voice of a soldier over the radio in another trench, under attack from Russian forces and in desperate need of reinforcements.

Oleg Sentsov, “Real,” 2024: official international trailer

During the first days of the Russian full-scale invasion of Ukraine, film director Oleh Sentsov joined the Ukrainian Defense Forces. In his role as an army lieutenant, he took part in several intensive battles – and during one, his BMP was destroyed by Russian artillery. In the aftermath, he became embedded in nearby trenches and tried to organize via radio the evacuation of part of his unit. All the while, his men were under constant attack, and eventually ran out of ammunition, making their evacuation all the more urgent. This military event on the Ukrainian-Russian front line positions was given the code name Real. This is the name of the film.

Source: Arthouse Traffic (YouTube), 18 June 2024

The voice on our end — that of “Real” director Sentsov, call sign “Grunt” — is trying to organize the evacuation of troops under fire and the resupply of his unit. Ammunition is running out, and the Russian forces — uniformly referred to over the radio as “f**kers” — are closing in.

“This is one of those very long days. It was part of the much-anticipated Ukrainian counter-offensive of last summer,” says Sentsov, speaking via Zoom on leave from the front.

“We had spent almost 10 days trying to get through the Russian defense line. We lost equipment, we lost weapons. But we were still in the same place. It was really obvious that we were losing many people, losing armaments, vehicles, everything. But even at that moment, we’d kept our belief that we could do something.”

Sentsov’s unit was sent deep into enemy territory but their armored personnel carrier was hit and they were forced to flee on foot. The director-turned-soldier found himself in a trench, with a handful of his squadmates. Other units were pinned down by enemy fire and running out of ammunition.

“They were almost entirely surrounded by enemies, and I was the only one who had a connection with them and could report back up to the higher commanders,” says Sentsov. “I was stationed a bit uphill and could communicate with both headquarters and the people in the trench.”

Camera on by accident

“Real” plays out as a single, unedited take — an hour-and-a-half long — as Sentsov repeatedly calls between the units and headquarters, trying to cut through the fog of war and get help to the soldiers before it’s too late. We see everything through Sentsov’s eyes, or rather, through the lens of the GoPro camera attached to his helmet.

The director hadn’t meant to be recording. He turned the camera on by accident when he was checking his equipment. It was weeks later, after the battle, that he discovered the footage on the camera’s memory card.

“At first, I thought it looked very random, I didn’t think it would be interesting for anyone and I wanted to erase it,” he says. “But then I started to watch it and I recognized that, oh my God, this is part of this very tragic event, with so many people in the trenches, cut off and surrounded by Russians. Our friends, my friends. People who will watch the movie may never see those soldiers and these situations but they can learn how tragic it was. They can see one of the most tragic days of the Ukrainian counter-offensive.”

“Real” has none of the stylistic flourishes that exemplify Sentsov’s narrative films. 2022’s “Rhino,” subtitled “Ukrainian Godfather” in its US release, is a slick gangster thriller that borrows heavily from the movies of Martin Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola to tell the story of the rise and fall of a violent delinquent — the Rhino of the title — who finds success in the chaos of 1990s Ukraine. 

2020’s “Numbers,” which is set on a single stage, evokes the theatrical mimimalism of Lars von Trier’s “Dogville” or the plays of Bertolt Brecht. 

In “Real,” the hand of the director is nowhere to be seen. Sentsov makes not a single edit. He adds no music or sound effects. Nothing is explained beyond what we see and hear on screen in real time. 

“This is why I don’t call this a film or even a documentary but rather a pure document,” says Sentsov. “This is the video document that shows a part of the war, a very small glimpse of the war. But this war document captured on camera really shows us how cruel, how stupid, and, I can’t even find the words to describe it, how senseless war is… You get a very different perception of war if you only know it from war movies or from documentaries edited to make war look presentable. There’s always this component of heroism, everyone wants to emphasize this, to show dynamic, heroic action. But real war is very, very different.”

Sentsov calls “Real” an “immersive experience. You are thrown in and you only slowly start to understand what’s going on. It really drags you into the trenches.”

A document of war

Anyone expecting action will be disappointed. Instead we are forced to wait, along with the squad in the foxhole, with no idea what is happening around us and when the enemy will attack. “Real” captures the tension, the tedium, and the terror of war in equal measure.

“When I was young, I remember watching the movie ‘Platoon’ by Oliver Stone, and there’s a scene when one of the soldiers says: ‘Forget the word hero. There’s nothing heroic in war’,” says Sentsov. I couldn’t really understand that at the time because I grew up on very different movies that gave a very different perception of war. Now, after two-and-a-half years in an active war zone, I have to say I completely agree with that young man in the movie.”

Sentsov admits “the truth” he shows in his film may be painful for many, particularly inside Ukraine, to watch. The failure of the summer counter-offensive to break the Russian’s defensive line has shifted the conflict towards a brutal war of attrition. 

“There are many things about the situation, about the reality of the war, that we are not discussing here inside Ukraine,” says Sentsov. “If someone would ask me how long it will take to reestablish control over the 1991 borders and to achieve a military defeat of Russia, I would say maybe it could happen in 10 years, but that would be a miracle.”

Instead of pretending that reality doesn’t exist, says Sentsov, it would be better, for Ukraine and the world, to “stare at the eyes of the truth, however painful. Otherwise, we are going to spend all our lives in an illusion that doesn’t relate to reality, to the real situation in front of us.”

Source: Scott Roxborough, “War in Ukraine: Oleg Sentsov’s ‘accidental’ documentary,” Deutsche Welle, 27 June 2024

Recent Russian Opposition YouTube Blockbusters: “Age of Dissent 2024” & “The Yashins”

Andrei Loshak, “The Age of Dissent 2024” (in Russian, with English subtitles)

The eve of the 2018 presidential election saw the release of Andrei Loshak’s series Age of Dissent, about young supporters of Alexei Navalny who were involved in his election campaign.

The sequel to the series, filmed on the eve of the latest presidential “election,” recounts how the lives of the activists who dreamed together with Navalny of “the wonderful Russia of the future” have changed dramatically in six years. Filming was almost completed when news came Navalny’s death. The movie’s protagonists ask themselves how to live without dreams and hope.

Source: Current Time Doc (YouTube), 3 June 2024. Annotation translated by the Russian Reader

The protagonists of Andrei Loshak’s documentary film Age of Dissent 2024: (clockwise, from upper left corner) Filipp Simpkins, Lilia Chanysheva, Ksenia Fadeeva, Yegor Chernyuk, and Violetta Grudina

On June 3, Current Time hosted the premiere of Russian filmmaker Andrei Loshak’s documentary Age of Dissent 2024. It is a sequel to Age of Dissent, which was filmed on the eve of the 2018 presidential election in Russia and focused on opposition politician Aleksei Navalny and the young supporters who helped him with his unofficial campaign. He was denied registration as a candidate but campaigned as if he was on the ballot.

Fast forward six years, to 2024, and another Russian presidential election, which was held in March and won, again, by Vladimir Putin with what the state said was 87.3 percent of the vote. Loshak’s new film, commissioned by Current Time, RFE/RL’s Russian-language TV and digital network, tells how the lives of the same activists who had dreamed, together with Navalny, of a “beautiful Russia of the future” changed dramatically.

Filming was almost completed when news broke in February of Navalny’s mysterious death in a Russian Arctic prison while serving a 19-year term on charges his supporters and many Western governments considered politically motivated.

On the eve of the film’s premiere, Current Time journalist Ksenia Sokolyanskaya met with Loshak in Tel Aviv.

RFE/RL: Did you think from the very beginning that this story would have some kind of sequel? Or did something happen at a certain moment that made you want to return to these people?

Andrei Loshak: I must say that, probably, this idea was there from the very beginning. After I released the first film, I saw that it kind of took off. People began to tell me that they wondered what would happen to the subjects next. And I thought, yeah, it’s really interesting that it will be a new election cycle six years later.

I had to monitor their fates, so I asked to film some things, although I didn’t know for whom it was to be done or when. But then I realized that they had all left Russia, that their fates had changed very dramatically, and that everything that they had fought for and lived for, all of it was destroyed in these past six years.

Yes, it seemed to me that this was enough to return to them and film what had happened to them. But you have to understand that we finished filming in January and early February [of 2024]. I sat in Tbilisi and thought about what to do with all of this.

What was my idea? To draw attention to Aleksei Navalny, because for me, this was such a serious motivator. There was a moment when he was being transferred to [the Polar Wolf prison in Russia’s Arctic town of] Kharp, and he disappeared, and I was struck by how few people wrote about it. For two weeks, it was not clear whether he was alive or not.

They killed Aleksei on February 16. At that moment, I was simply lost. I didn’t understand what to do with the material.

I think it was important to record the reactions of [the film’s subjects] to the news of that day, before they had time to get used to it. Although, to be honest, I’m still not used to it. It killed me, too.

This is probably the most personal film I’ve made in a long time. Because usually you take the position of an observer and film all sorts of things, but in this film I lived with the subjects — with one dream, one hope — and Aleksei was as important a figure for me as he was for them.

RFE/RL: I read the comments under the teaser for the film, which was posted the other day. People wrote that it was painful to watch, that their hearts were broken. We live in a Russia we don’t want to live in, and Violetta in the film talks about “those traumatized by Russia.”

Loshak: Moreover, a psychotherapist gave them such a diagnosis.

RFE/RL: In the film, a separate theme is the question: How do you live when the main thing you’re living for is taken away? Do you think there is an answer?

Loshak: We are all asking this question now, and few people understand how to overcome all this. This is a recording of this moment, when our homeland rejected us. We found ourselves superfluous and unnecessary there. She needs us, but the circumstances are such that they don’t expect us there, they don’t want us there, they push us out of there.

Hope is such a straw. You still clutch at it. Of course, a few months is not enough time to understand how to live now. I am in this process, and my heroes are in this process of understanding. [In the film,] Oleg says this [phrase] from the point of view of common sense: “We need to stop this, guys.”

RFE/RL: Meaning that political activism is not a profession?

Loshak: Yes. It is possible in some historical cycles, but in others it is impossible. And when you find yourself rejected, uprooted and without a homeland, your plan must change….

That’s why I always look at this whole “opposition movement” with great skepticism. I don’t know who looks at it without skepticism. But on the other hand, I don’t deny it. It’s kind of necessary, because they’re doing the right things, but it’s virtually impossible to influence anything in Russia from [exile]. This must be understood clearly.

This feeling of helplessness with which Violetta says: “What, how, and why?” — the loss of these meanings is very painful. But we always have to say goodbye to something; everything has its own lifespan. And unfortunately, we are now at this point where we need to say goodbye to all this and start something new. The question is: What?

RFE/RL: Do you have faith? In the film people talk a lot about faith, and it ends with Aleksei’s words about the need to believe. Do you have faith that Aleksei’s story can also transform into something that people will watch, and that if they don’t know the story of Jan Palach, they will learn it from your film? (Editor’s Note: On January 16, 1969, 20-year-old university student Jan Palach set himself on fire in Prague to protest the August 1968 invasion of Czechoslovakia by Warsaw Pact troops. He died of his burns three days later.)

Loshak: I’m sure of it. I’m convinced of it. Such sacrifices, heroic deeds of such magnitude, cannot be in vain. I am absolutely sure that this is not a wasted sacrifice and that Aleksei will remain in the history of Russia forever as one of these heroic figures, which, of course, will acquire its own mythology. And in what our grandchildren and great-grandchildren will read about him, we would hardly recognize Aleksei.

There are always few such figures in history. I have never encountered anything like this in my life, such a level of self-sacrifice.

RFE/RL: The scale.

Loshak: Yes, but we also had, of course, our own Jan Palach: [Russian journalist] Irina Slavina, who set herself on fire in Nizhny Novgorod [in 2020], opposite the city police headquarters. (Editor’s Note: Before self-immolating, Slavina wrote on Facebook, “Blame the Russian Federation for my death.” A day earlier, she had written that police had searched her apartment, trying to find evidence linking her with the opposition Open Russia group and confiscated her computers and mobile phone.)

She didn’t do it in vain, either. I’m absolutely sure. Although who remembers her now? This was just a few years ago, before the war [in Ukraine]…. She will also be in this pantheon of heroic people who openly came out against evil.

Of course, Aleksei and what he did, and the way he died — all of this will later inspire people because everyone always needs bright examples, everyone needs these myths. And Aleksei has already become this myth. I can already see how people who never appreciated him during his lifetime — and, in general, I heard little good from them about Navalny — are now writing: “But Navalny would not have said that,” or, “Navalny would not have done that.”

His wings have already grown; he is already soaring over this unfortunate Russia, and he will always soar there from now on. This is actually good because you have to believe in something.

RFE/RL: After Navalny’s death, a discussion appeared in the Russian-speaking, mostly emigrant, community. It seems to me that the impetus was Shura Burtin’s manifesto on Meduza that a “beautiful Russia of the future” will not happen and that hope for some kind of good future is harmful. One of your subjects, Violetta, also talks about how she doesn’t feel joy, that she can’t say she lives, she just exists. Do you think you should actually believe such stories?

Loshak: Believe in what?

RFE/RL: You said Aleksei’s sacrifice was not in vain, but it seems to me that for a large number of people this is not true.

Loshak: That everything is in vain, that evil triumphs over good, and that this has always been the case in Russia? It has always been this way. But it seems to me that everything has its time. Even if we look at the history of Russia, evil has always defeated good, but there have also been moments when good had a chance.

There have always been thaws, rollbacks toward democratization, and liberation from the shackles with which the state always entangles people in Russia. We have always had this chance; we just never took advantage of it.

With Aleksei there was this chance; he gave us this chance throughout his political life, starting in 2017, but this liberal layer of us, so to speak, simply looked at it all with the curiosity of a TV viewer, nothing more.

Then he returned. He returned [to Russia from Germany in January 2021 after being treated for poisoning], realizing that, of course, he would most likely be imprisoned. But he gave us this chance again, and it was as if it was all staged. He returned, his documentary Putin’s Palace was released, which was watched by 100 million people. Then there was a rally, and the usual 20,000 to 40,000 people came out.

We wasted the chances that Navalny gave us.

I really believe that at some point people will understand how important it is to participate in politics, how important it is to be a citizen, and not just to be a resident of this country. One of the subjects in the first part of the documentary in 2017 said to me — I won’t say his name now, because he is in Russia, but he was on the Maidan; by accident, he ended up there — “When 10,000 people come out, it’s nothing. But when 1 million people come out, you can’t do anything about it.”

This is why I endlessly respect Navalny: for the fact that he did everything he could, and more than he could, to give us these chances. And we blew them. And I hope that someday this will become obvious. You see, what is happening to Russia now cannot last forever.

RFE/RL: Why?

Loshak: Because it’s against common sense, it’s against the passage of time. This is an attempt to turn back time, to turn it around….

In general, history is cyclical. Now there is some moment of crisis in which Western civilization finds itself. We see incredible divisions within Western countries. I don’t remember this before. This is also some kind of new sign of the times. But nevertheless, Western societies have gone through many crises, and their strength is that they are democratic, and thanks to this openness they survive them, work through them, and reach a new level.

But Russia is not doing this. Russia is simply driving us into some kind of Middle Ages with its boots. The rhetoric that is heard now is about a “holy war,” about the defense of traditional values. It all comes down to homophobia really. This is the only thing they found as a scarecrow around which they built this whole structure about the “holy war” of the Russian world with Western civilization, which is satanic, because gay people can openly hold each other’s hands and recognizes their marriages. This is complete bulls**t.

For this generation, about which I filmed in 2017, there was no issue of homophobia at all. They had already grown up in this cross-border world of the Internet. They saw that this was normal. This is how all people live, and they are happy.

I subscribe to Russian-language Iranian opposition channels. You’re amazed how much the same is there. It’s just that these grandfathers look more colorful there. Ours are in secular blue jackets, and in Iran there are bearded ones in dressing gowns. But everything is the same. People want to live freely; they want to be happy. It is impossible to be happy when everything is forbidden.

It is impossible to keep these prohibitions all your life because the reverse process is taking place all over the world. People are following the path of gaining more and more freedom, because it is more comfortable to live this way, and at the same time respect the freedom of others….

But at any moment the Russian state can invade your life and tell you how you should behave, how to dress. You have nothing. You owe them everything for some reason, but they don’t owe you anything.

This is such an old patriarchal model of the world order. If you look at all this more broadly, I see it as a rebellion against patriarchy. And what is happening in Russia is the agony of the patriarchy. In Russia, the strong are always right. To the question, “What is strength?” [I answer that] in Russia there is strength in strength. Not in any truth. This is nonsense. What is the truth? The truth was on Aleksei’s side. And where is he? I’m sure [these grandfathers] are becoming decrepit. Time will simply kill them because time is not on their side. And at some point they will simply stop being strong, and then they will be finished.

Arriving at Jan Palach’s grave [in Prague], Oleg tells the story about what happened in 1969. And in 1989, the Velvet Revolution [in Czechoslovakia] began with people coming to his grave. Yes, we had to wait 20 years for this name and this feat to become an impulse and begin to work. But now, it seems to me, time flows faster. I would like to believe that we will not have to wait another 20 years.

RFE/RL: When you invited people to the premiere in Tel Aviv on Facebook, you wrote: “I don’t wish you a pleasant viewing. That would be hypocritical on my part.” As someone who has seen the film twice, I can say it is indeed very difficult to watch. What effect do you, as an auteur, hope for?

Loshak: Due to what happened during the filming — and it was not I who wrote Navalny’s death into the script — I stopped thinking at all about who I was doing it for. It’s just a film that has a lot of my personal pain in it. I did this in order to try to part with this pain. It’s like psychotherapy: You have to work through it and live it in order to move on….

Navalny was important to so many people. This is a figure on a much larger scale than perhaps even we thought. Both importance and value. Still, his presence in Russia, even in prison, in this political landscape was completely incommensurable. We just don’t even understand yet how important. And we will understand gradually more and more. This film is probably for these people.

RFE/RL: You wrote a big post on Facebook about Aleksei and said that you miss him, and that it doesn’t go away. And in the end you say that despondency is a mortal sin, that Russia is a terrible fairy tale with a bad ending. You say that faith is an irrational thing. Do you want to return to Russia?

Loshak: Of course, I want to return to Russia now…. If Putin dies, then, of course, I will return….

Listen, this is our homeland. It’s not that we’re injured. It’s normal to want to live in your homeland with your people. They turned us into some kind of national traitors, although they are the national traitors. But we ourselves even began to get used to it, feeling that we were somehow different, which means we don’t belong there, that this is not our homeland.

But, damnit, this is our homeland, our roots are there, our everything is there. Why shouldn’t we want to go back? It’s normal to want to go back and desire to live in a different country. That is, to want changes in your country, which has simply turned into a fiend of hell, which threatens the whole world with nuclear disaster and is working to split the whole world and plunge it into some kind of abyss of chaos.

What is Western civilization? If we talk about European values, this is democracy, this is human rights, this is freedom — these are normal things. This is the norm. And they declared the norm to be evil. Who are they after that? This is some kind of madness that will end either in a nuclear apocalypse or in the fact that at some point they will simply die, as generally happens in history with villains: At some point, they simply died, and the world sighed freely until a new one was born.

RFE/RL: In an interview, you said you’d like to shoot a film in [the Ukrainian city of] Odesa, which is an important place for you. Did you have in mind a film that is less heavy than the one you have made for Current Time? Something entirely different?

Loshak: I really want to. I am very tired of politics, of Putin — of this creature, this absolutely insignificant bastard, who forces us to follow him all the time. Then we all write about it, film it, and react in horror. We are forced to because we react to abuse, to constant violence against us, because this person mocks us.

I want to film about something more metaphysical. With hope, with faith, with love. There is a lot of love missing.

Source: Ksenia Sokolyanskaya, “‘We Wasted The Chances He Gave Us’: Director Andrei Loshak Talks About His New Navalny Film,” RFE/RL, 4 June 2024. Although this isn’t a perfect translation, I refrained from editing it—except for the title of Loshak’s new film, which was translated flagrantly wrongly in the original text. ||| TRR

Tell Gordeeva: “The Yashins: ‘His Sentence Will End When the Regime Ends'” (in Russian; no subtitles)

In February 2022, opposition politician Ilya Yashin openly spoke out against the war while declaring that he would never leave Russia. In December, he was sentenced to eight and a half years in prison on charges of “discrediting” the army. Yashin has been held in a punishment cell over a month (since 17 May 2024), a visit from his parents was canceled, and nothing is known about the state of his health. We talked to Yashin’s parents about their son, whom they are proud of.

Contents: 00:00 Why do the Yashins not keep their son’s letters at home? 2:45 “A person is jailed for 15 days and until the last minute he doesn’t know whether he’ll be released or not” 7:15 “I’ll be the first to tell you’re wrong” 10:16 “Emigrating means admitting that we lost”11:47 “Gorinov doesn’t have it better because Ilya’s in prison” 13:43 “Who will know whether you gave your consent or not?” 17:36 “I guess I’ll have to be in prison for a while. What’s a little bit?” 21:21 How the clerk at the Tushino district court fell in love with Yashin and quit her job 22:36 Does Ilya Yashin have a fiancee? 25:20 How Yashin’s ex-girlfriends attend his court hearings 27:29 “We don’t communicate with Ksenia Sobchak” 31:27 Why didn’t Yashin become an actor? 33:53 “We accidentally met Lyudmila Navalnaya at the trial” 35:31 How Lyudmila Navalnaya taught Tatyana Yashina to put together prison care packages 36:48 Why do shampoo and toothpaste have to be poured into a plastic bag? 39:08 “His sentence will end when the regime ends” 40:46 “Now nothing good will ever happen” — on Navalny’s death 42:52 “Both my friends are dead” — Yashin’s letter after Navalny’s murder 44:55 “There are people who have it worse than we do” 48:53 Yashin’s health problems 52:49 How did Yashin’s parents meet? 54:58 Who taught Ilya to box and why 56:46 “I did everything to make sure Ilya was a momma’s boy” — Valery Yashin on parenting 1:00:28 “We Spartak fans are indomitable!” 1:02:16 Yashin asked for a wash basin in prison 1:06:01 “Ilya lived in a barracks in the tenth grade” 1:11:09 “He’s serving the longest sentence in the penal colony in Smolensk” 1:13:47 How his son has changed in prison, according to his father 1:14:36 …and according to his mother 1:19:19 “It’s him doing, but I’m the one who’s ashamed” — how Yasha’s mom taught her son to be a good deputy 1:25:00 “He went to his first protest rally in the eleventh grade after school”1:28:08 “Yabloko decided to do a deal with the Kremlin”1:31:24 How did Yashin and Nemtsov become friends? 1:33:48 “Even from prison, Ilya manages to send me flowers for my birthday” 1:34:46 “Mom, I’m in a paddy wagon but I’m okay” 1:36:57 The scariest day in Tatyana Yashina’s life 1:42:52 “I don’t consider Putin my enemy” 1:47:21 “Our son really did something wrong, but your son is paying for everyone” — what relatives of other prisoners say to Yashins 1:58:20 “Absolute strangers made care packages for him” — about the prisoner transport to Izhevsk 2:01:05 How did Yashin end up in the Okrestina detention center in Belarus in 2020? 2:03:48 “If you haven’t raised a person who is smarter than you, you’ve wasted your life” 2:05:34 “This is a marathon, and I have no doubt you’ll make it to the finish line” — a three-day visit with Ilya 2:07:05 “I missed your omelettes the most” 2:08:03 Why does Ilya Yashin’s mom not want him to become president? 2:10:13 “Guys, don’t get upset!”

Source: Tell Gordeeva (YouTube), 17 June 2024. Annotation translated by the Russian Reader

Russian opposition politician Ilya Yashin is currently serving an eight-and-a-half year sentence in prison for spreading “disinformation” about the Russian army after speaking out against the mass murder of civilians in Bucha, Ukraine. Journalist Katerina Gordeeva sat down with his parents, Tatyana and Valery, who still live in Russia, to learn how they’re coping with his incarceration, how they support their son in prison, and what hopes they have for the future. Meduza shares key points from the interview.

On not persuading him to leave Russia

We never pressured him on any issue — neither small ones nor something like this. It’s his life, and he has to make these decisions; we can only help. I always told him, “Ilya, no matter what happens in life, know that you have a strong support system. That doesn’t mean you’ll always be right. And if I think you’re wrong, I’ll be the first to tell you.” The decision [not to leave Russia] came in 2012, after the Bolotnaya Square case. Leaving would mean giving up, admitting that everything was in vain.

He didn’t leave then. And then Boris Nemtsov was killed, and he said, “Now, even more so, I can’t leave. Leaving would mean admitting that we lost. As long as I’m alive, I don’t believe that I’ve lost.” We didn’t try to talk him out of it because I understood how he felt, and I can’t imagine him being abroad now. I think it would have been such an ordeal that what he’s going through now is still much easier.

On an exchange

He himself doesn’t want an exchange. His main argument is: “Even if there are any exchanges, I’m far from being the first in line, and probably I’m the last, because there are people for whom it’s a matter of life and death. Secondly, I’m not ready to be exchanged for a hired killer who will then be free. Thirdly, agreeing to an exchange means leaving the country. I could have left the country right away.” I told him, “Ilya, it’s clear which way everything is going. Maybe if the opportunity arises, you shouldn’t be stubborn and should agree? After all, who will know whether you gave consent [for the exchange] or not?” He said: “I will know. That’s enough.”

On why they themselves stay in Russia

Because our son is here. We use any possible fleeting opportunity to see [him]. If there’s an appeal hearing, and he’ll be there via teleconference, maybe he’ll see us, and we’ll wave to him. And then he’ll see and make a heart. Maybe we’ll be given five minutes to exchange a few words. Letters are one thing, but it’s another when you can see him and understand by his expression, [by the way] he shuffles papers, what state he’s in, what his mood is. That’s why we attend all the court sessions.

On their son’s sentence

I was shocked when the prosecutor requested nine years for Ilya. I thought I’d misunderstood, I had misheard, because it couldn’t be true. Then, after we’d left the courtroom but before the sentence was pronounced, there was a moment when it overwhelmed me a little. But I quickly pulled myself together, and by the time of the sentencing, we took it quite calmly, philosophically: when the regime ends, the term will end. He chose this path, and we’re walking it with him. We are beside him, we are helping, and what will be, will be.

On family life

We never had any secrets. In our family, we made all our decisions collectively, so to speak. Any decisions — important or unimportant — were discussed by the whole family, and we included Ilya in this from a very young age.

On how Ilya has changed in prison

Tatyana: He’s become kinder and less rigid, paradoxical as it may sound. When he was young, he could break off relationships abruptly. Now, he’s more understanding, he doesn’t judge. Some things make him smile wryly — but without judgment.

Valery: He used to have moments where he was very categorical in his judgments. He’d listen, understand, agree, but still stick to his opinion. Now, he’s grown more tolerant. He’s developed [an open-mindedness]; he’s matured and become more resilient.

On people’s support

We were in Smolensk; the court was hearing an appeal on an administrative case for failing to fulfill the so-called duties of a “foreign agent.” And the [train] arrives just on the dot, so we had to take a taxi and rush into the building. When we got there, a journalist who’d arrived earlier called us and said, “They changed the courtroom because there are a lot of people.” And when we walked in, we saw a full hall — Smolensk residents of all ages. […]

And then these people came up to us — there were these guys, a very young man, a student, young women, and a local lawyer. They said, “Come with us, we’ll show you where you can sit, have coffee, eat, and warm up.” It was so touching. Then a charming woman, about our age, maybe a bit younger, came up to us. She said, “I live nearby too, you can always rely on me.” I’ve met a lot of people who say things like, “Hold on, everything will be fine, this will all end.” But no one has ever called my son a traitor or whispered it behind my back.

On the future

During our last visit, which lasted three days and was the first in two years, we could hug and talk about anything. We talked a lot. He said: “What can you do? It’s a marathon.” I told him, “Ilya, I might not make it to the end.” He said: “You’ll make it. I have no doubt.”

Source: “‘He chose this path, and we’re walking it with him’: The parents of imprisoned Russian opposition politician Ilya Yashin on coping with their son’s incarceration,” Meduza, 19 June 2024

The Anti-Anti-War Movement

Ana Tavadze and Dachi Imedadze, members of Georgia’s Shame Movement. Photo: 60 MINUTES

Ana Tavadze: We’re going in with a government that’s completely corrupt, a government that’s pro-Russian, clearly anti-Western, clearly does not really care about what the majority of the population wants and needs.

Ana Tavadze and Dachi Imedadze are members of the Shame Movement – a group with thousands of young followers working towards Georgia’s entry into the European Union.

Ana Tavadze: If Russia wins, it means loss of freedom, loss of everything that we fought for in the past 30 years basically. It’s a fight for values, it’s a fight for where you want to stand in this big fight for democracy.

Dachi Imedadze: As soon as the West in any form, be it the U.S. partnership, be it the European Union, is not represented in this country, Russia will fill the void right away. 

They say the influx of Russians is already changing the face of Georgia.

Ana Tavadze: What are they doing, if we look at it? They’re buying apartments. They’re buying private property. They are opening up businesses. Their actions changed — Georgian economy.

Dachi Imedadze: The Russians are buying apartments here in every 33 minutes. They’re purchasing a piece of land in every 27 minutes. And they’re registering a business in every 26 minutes. So, I think we are on the brink of very dangerous situation here in Georgia.

According to public records, Russians have registered more than 20,000 businesses in Georgia over the last two years. And launched five new Russian-only schools, none of which are licensed by Georgia’s department of education.

Russians have driven rent up nearly 130%, prices for everything from food to cars have gone up 7%. over 100,000 Georgians have left the country because many of them can’t afford to live here anymore.

Sharyn Alfonsi: I’ve heard this described as a quiet invasion.

Dachi Imedadze: Quiet invasion, yeah. There is a risk of the economic diversions. There is a risk of military intervention. And there’s a risk of — Georgia’s statehood being destroyed. 

Emmanuil Lisnif, George Smorgulenko and Pavel Bakhadov don’t look like much of a threat.

All Russians in their twenties, they fled their country for fear of being drafted or imprisoned for speaking out against Putin.

George Smorgulenko, Emmanuil Lisnif and Pavel Bakhadov are all Russians living in Georgia. Photo: 60 MINUTES

They now live in Georgia and work at this Russian-owned comedy club in Tbilisi.

Emmanuil Lisnif: I try and said ‘I’m against the war in Russia. I was beaten. and after that going to prison three times.’

Sharyn Alfonsi: So three times you went to jail?

Emmanuil Lisnif: Yes, yes three times.

Pavel Bakhadov: I believe and I know that Russians actually against the war. 

Sharyn Alfonsi: You think that most Russians are against the war?

Emmanuil Lisnif: Yeah, just scared, really scared.

Sharyn Alfonsi: Have any of you had any aggression towards you because you’re Russian?

Pavel Bakhadov: Actually I have a big writing on the wall. It’s the biggest thing I see from my window, just big ‘Russians go home.’ 

There is no subtlety in spray paint… anti-Russian graffiti blankets the city along with support for Ukraine.

[…]

Source: Sharyn Alfonsi, “Denial of Georgia’s EU membership bid would be ‘a big victory for Russia,’ President Zourabichvili says,” 60 Minutes, updated 9 June 2024. The emphasis, above, is mine. ||| TRR

This text is based on interviews I did as part of the Hidden Opinions public opinion polling project, which I launched in 2022 and continued in 2023 and 2024. I spoke with dissenting Russians — with those who oppose the current regime and its military actions against Ukraine, both those who have stayed in Russia and those who have left the country. My youngest respondent at the time of the [first] survey was sixteen years old, while the oldest was seventy-two years old. These people hail from a wide range of professions and walks of life, but what they have in common is their categorical opposition to the actions of the Russian authorities. In just two years, I have interviewed 154 people for this project, some of whom I have spoken with two or three times.

In 2022, all of my respondents — both those who had left the country and those who stayed — espoused anti-war views and expressed a negative attitude toward the Kremlin’s policies. However, in 2023, about a year and a half after the war’s outbreak, a group amongst my sources in Russia emerged. Small at first, but constantly growing, it consisted of people who had changed their negative attitudes toward the war and/or the government.

This does not mean that such changes are impossible among those Russians who have left the country. Amidst a full-scale war, research based on representative samples is hampered by the fact that the most accessible respondents are those who have agreed to be interviewed as a result of self-selection. This is a significant limitation to the project.

My research is qualitative, not quantitative, meaning that it would be wrong to speak of a particular percentage of anti-war Russians who have become pro-war. I think it is important to study and understand how views are transformed and what triggers them to change. It is the subject of this text.

***

The sociologist and philosopher Zygmunt Bauman, experimenting with means of gauging the conservatism–to–radicalism spectrum, asked his students to do the following exercise. They were shown twenty drawings, the first one depicting a dog, the last one depicting a cat; in between, the dog gradually shed its canine features and turned into the cat. It was vital that the researcher record the moment when the test subjects had doubts about what exactly was depicted in the picture, when they realized that the dog had mutated irreversibly. In a sense, I have been doing something similar, trying to record the moment at which anti-war or anti-Putin views have been transformed into pro-war or pro-government views.

I have observed that such a change in views depends on a number of extrinsic factors, and the more such factors that are combined, the more likely it is that the person’s stance will change. In addition, a great deal is determined by an individual’s (psychological, social, etc.) resources. Finally, inconsistent views play an important role in transformation and adaptation. In recent years, sociologists have increasingly noted that people often pursue mutually exclusive goals simultaneously without noticing the contradictions in their own behavior.

New rationalizations, disillusionment and loneliness

The gradual realization that the war is a long-term affair, combined with Alexei Navalny’s sudden death in a penal colony, has had a considerable impact on those resisting the regime within Russia. One can swim against the current, but it requires a considerable amount of strength, something not everyone possesses. It is difficult to be amongst the minority for years on end, to conceal one’s views and live in fear of being reported to the authorities. Respondents have thus begun reformatting [sic] their attitude to reality, explaining events in a new light and providing new rationalizations.

Failing to receive the expected support from the outside world or the possibility of a dignified workaround, some of my respondents eventually chose non-resistance to the regime, which in some cases has transmogrified into full-fledged loyalty.

“I don’t want to go to prison, I don’t want to play the rebel. I just want to live. If they send me to listen to ‘Exorcist TV,’ I’ll go without question. If they tell me to go to a [pro-war] concert, I’ll go. I’m not trying to convince anyone of anything anymore. I’m tired. I can only accept it and live the life I have.”

This stance is not directly bound up with support for the war or the regime. Rather, it indicates fatigue and the lack of strength to resist. If the circumstances shift in a direction more in keeping with their own values, these people will gladly slough off the “burden of adaptation.”

It is worth noting that, over the last year, many of my respondents have stopped following the news and focused on their daily lives. There are respondents who, despite the troubling times, have decided to have children. This is also a way of disconnecting from current events.

Another important factor influencing the change of respondents’ views is the narrowing of their circles of trust. Fearing denunciation, dissenters avoid making new contacts. Afraid of being alone and unwilling to live in fear, uncertainty and/or exile, they then join the majority.

The distance between Russians who have left Russia and those who have stayed in Russia has grown greater with every passing year. In 2022–2023, when I asked my respondents about opposition members who had left Russia, they most often would say nothing or would limit themselves to brief remarks along the lines of “We still watch them on YouTube, but they have less and less sense of what’s happening at home.”

Expressions of resentment and frustration have become more frequent in my interviews in 2024. My sources have said that the opposition often engages in wishful thinking and plays fast and loose with the facts, and that the west does not always act logically and decently.

Consequently, previously opposition-minded people have chosen to abandon painful and exhausting self-reflection in favor of loyalty to the regime. This helps them to get on with their lives, normalizing both the war and the political crackdowns. As one respondent put it, “Since the opposition and the west cannot be trusted, we will make friends with Putin. He is an ogre, but he is our own ogre.”

“Western countries seem to be doing everything to help Putin’s propaganda machine. I was quite surprised when I heard Angela Merkel say that all our negotiations were just a smokescreen: we wanted to let Ukraine catch its breath, and the negotiations were just a deception. That is, the leader of one of the largest countries in Europe openly says: a) we can’t be trusted in any negotiations, and b) we have conspired to deceive you. […] Putin’s propaganda machine skillfully makes use of this. But the point is not that the propaganda machine is using it, it’s that it is reality. As a normal person, a question occurs to me: if they treat us this way, [then] we are their enemies. After such statements, the ‘west’ is regarded as the enemy of Russians, and, accordingly, their enemy — Putin — is our friend.”

Those respondents who have changed their views on the war emphasize that when the west blocked their bank cards and accounts, when they heard what Ukrainians (including their relatives and friends) were saying about Russians and how they called for killing them, they decided that the current regime, whatever it was like, was less hostile to them on balance.

Tired of guilt, shame, disappointment and indignation, they have essentially chosen peace by joining the majority and accepting the existing rules: don’t discuss politics, don’t speak out publicly, swear to the values that the government declares. This choice seems reasonable to them in a situation in which no political activism is possible anyway, and the political crackdown machine is only picking up steam.

This strategy ensured material well-being and career success for some of my respondents. For example, some mid-level specialists in the IT sector received good positions and salaries, while for other people the involvement of their relatives in the war has been a means of social mobility and a source of access to material goods. Still others have benefited from the war by arranging parallel imports, etc.

Another factor contributing to the shift in sentiment from anti-Putin to pro-government has been the radicalization and polarization of society.

“A sharp delineation between ‘black and white’ leads to the opposite outcome. Any attempts to express doubts about the actions of the Ukrainian or western side are automatically regarded both inside and outside [Russia] as pro-Putin behavior, the outcome of brainwashing, etc. The other side appears infallible and beyond criticism.

“If you criticize the west’s actions in any way, you are automatically pigeonholed as a ‘Putinist.’ It makes me feel like saying: if that’s how you treat me, well, to hell with you, chalk me up as a Putin supporter.”

The state of rejection and isolation provokes protests amongst some people: since the west condemns them for staying in Russia, they “will go the full mile and become real orcs.”

The mechanisms by which feelings of rejection are transformed into collective pride have been described by researchers and are not unique to Russia. These feelings reinforce nationalist sentiments and contribute to the strengthening of authoritarian regimes.

Emotional dilemma

Speaking about the change in their views from anti-war to pro-war, my respondents noted that in one way or another they were surrounded by people who had suffered in the war: classmates or school friends who had been drafted to the front or had volunteered for combat, their children, colleagues, and mere acquaintances. Telling them straight to their face that their sacrifices were in vain had become both emotionally more difficult and more dangerous. To maintain relationships and friendships, my sources generally had to listen in silence to their acquaintances’ stories about what they had experienced and seen at the front. And if they were people who mattered to them, it was impossible not to sympathize with them.

We should understand that Russians who initially opposed the war and the regime but remained in Russia feel definitely closer to those who went to the front or delivered humanitarian aid there than to those who have left the country. They are “in the same boat” as their relatives, friends, and colleagues. They feel compassion for them.

“When we were teenagers, all sorts of things happened. If the guys were caught [by the authorities], I would perjure myself and lie in all sorts of ways. Later I could tell them what I actually thought of them, but I wouldn’t abandon them. That’s not the way that blokes do things. Now I realize with my head that they are wrong a hundred times over, but they are my boys, I am on their side. And even if I am against the war, I cannot be against them.”

Propaganda equates anti-war sentiment with betrayal, and it paints people who espouse such views as accomplices of Russia’s enemies, who want to kill as many Russians as possible. This causes a very heavy feeling, my respondents note.

Meanwhile, the state softens such emotional blows by offering loyal citizens new benefits and additional material and social goods, free concerts, and beautiful and comfortable urban environments, demonstrating concern for people in general and for those returning from war in particular. “People-centeredness” has become the buzzword in the PR strategies of many employers and officials throughout Russia.

Russians who are concerned about their neighbors also respond to calls for help front-line soldiers, because amidst war and external isolation it is these people with whom, they say, they “share a common plight.” One of my respondents, overwhelmed by such sentimental feelings, volunteered for the army.

As a religious man, he hoped he would not face the need to kill others, but would be able to help “his boys” without bearing arms, because he “could not stand on the sidelines any longer.” If the need to kill arose, he would desert, my source had decided, explaining that he was emotionally prepared to be beaten up and go to prison.

Another type of people whom I have encountered more and more often are those whom researchers Maria Lipman and Michael Kimmage have characterized as anti-anti-war: these people do not necessarily support the war, but they strongly condemn or resent “unpatriotic” fellow citizens who do not support the Russian army or who even take the side of Ukraine.

Seeing soldiers returning from the front and watching the growing number of Russians killed in combat, my sources now often place the blame not on Putin or the Russian military, but on their compatriots who oppose continuing the war until Russia achieves total victory.

Ressentiment and the “demons” of propaganda

Propaganda has awakened ressentiment in some of my respondents. They have come to believe that this war is really about maintaining Russia’s status as a great power, which its enemies are trying to flout and rob. Such people believe it vital that Russia maintain its status as a victor, and they accept the state-imposed version of Russian history that asserts Russia’s greatness in all periods.

War, as happens under autocracies and dictatorships, is seen as the ultimate manifestation of the nation’s strength and vitality and a guarantee that its culture and traditions will be maintained. In conversations with me, my sources have repeatedly used the phrase “releasing demons,” referring to the fact that the current situation helps their acquaintances and themselves experience a sense of unity and superiority over the rest of the world, a sense of their own righteousness and chosenness.

Some respondents noted that the official rhetoric, concrete and catchy, seemed more acceptable to them than the verbose arguments and meaningless self-reflections of the opposition.

Meanwhile, according to my respondents, the number of anti-war-minded Russians today is decreasing. Since Navalny’s death, I have often heard in interviews that every second or third person in the orbit of my sources has changed their views.

It is difficult to say how strong this trend really is. I would estimate that a third of those who unequivocally opposed the war and the regime when I spoke to them [initially] have changed their views, but of course these numbers are in need of supplemental verification, which is not easy to accomplish today. There are probably also people who have switched their pro-war patriotic views to oppositional ones, but I assume that we hear the voices of these people even less frequently.

Respondents who are in a state of uncertainty and/or in the course of switching their views feel the need for support, at least informational support. They need arguments explaining that anti-war sentiments are not a betrayal and that the current war is destroying Russia, not restoring its greatness. But they also acknowledge that such an argument would hardly convince them under the current circumstances. For now, the only thing they think they can do is to maintain their sanity and adapt to reality in order to live to see better days.

***

The Russian regime has proven to be “smarter” and more adaptive than Russian opposition activists and western democracies thought, but this does not mean there is no point or possibility of supporting by any means possible those who have remained in Russia and are still resisting the regime or straddling the fence. One way or another, positive change in Russia is impossible without their involvement.

Source: Anna Kuleshova, “‘I’m a person with anti-war views, but I suddenly found myself signing up for the front’: how and why Russians have changed their attitude to the war,” Republic, 4 June 2024. The emphasis, above, is the author’s. Translated by the Russian Reader

The Good Russians

Russian liberals think their fellow emigres’ support for Israel makes them model Europeans.
Source: CASE, “Novaia rossiiskaia diaspora: vyzov i shans dlia Evropy,” p. 13

Russian opposition forces will discuss with European officials the possibility of expanding opportunities for immigration from Russia to the EU countries. One of the measures they propose is a “relocatee card”: the bearer of this document would be able to freely obtain a residence permit in one of the EU countries, open a bank account, rent real estate, and get a job. The authors of the idea argue that the outflow of educated and well-off Russians can weaken Russia’s economic health while also “creating serious challenges to the Putin regime.” They argue this in a study on Russian relocatees in the EU, published on Tuesday, 11 June 2024.

The report was prepared by a new think tank, the Center for Analysis and Strategies in Europe (CASE), whose advisory board members from Russia are Dmitry Gudkov, Sergei Aleksashenko, Vladislav Inozemtsev, Andrei Movchan, and Dmitry Nekrasov. The study will be presented in Paris at the French Institute of International Relations (IFRI), which commissioned it. In the coming days, the report will also be presented at the PACE, the German Foreign Ministry, and the Bundestag, Gudkov said.

Portrait of Russian immigrants: good education, high income, anti-war views

As part of the study, researchers surveyed three and a half thousand Russian nationals residing in France, Germany, Poland, and Cyprus. The results showed that most of those who left Russia after the start of the war in Ukraine — eighty-two percent — have a higher education or an academic degree. Sixty-two percent of those surveyed reported monthly earnings of three thousand euros or more. This category of people, Gudkov said, not only does not require benefits [sic], but also makes a significant contribution to the EU economy.

Among Russians who have relocated to the EU in the past two years, the vast majority oppose the policies of Russian President Vladimir Putin (79%) and support Ukraine (64%). Gudkov emphasizes that most relocatees are well-off, educated people with anti-war views.

“It is important that this is the work of European researchers confirming our long-standing argument that new immigrants from Russia hold European [sic] views. They oppose the war, and can rightly be called ‘Russian Europeans’. They are not a threat and represent an economic and social resource for European societies,” Gudkov told DW.

The infographic slideshow précis of CASE’s “study,” as found on Dmitry Gudkov’s Telegram page

Report’s authors propose “relocatee card” for Russians

The study’s authors suggest that the authorities in the EU countries develop legal norms for the large-scale migration of Russian nationals to the EU, Gudkov said. According to him, Russian nationals now face restrictions in some European countries, including, for example, problems with obtaining residence permits and opening accounts in European banks.

The study proposes a new mechanism for attracting “economic migrants” from Russia to the EU: a “relocatee card,” whose holder could easily open a bank account, rent real estate, and get a job in one of the EU countries. The document, as stated in the report, could be valid for a year with the possibility of renewal. During this “trial period,” the cardholder would have to confirm that they are employed or opened their own business, lived three quarters of the time in the country which issued the residence permit, have a higher education, know one of the European languages, and also own a home or rent one in the EU. Moreover, the study proposes providing evidence of the relocatee’s liquid assets in Russia as proof that they have the means to pay for their stay.

“Today, the strategy for undermining Putin’s regime must include a staged ‘bloodletting’: stimulating the outflow from Russia of both skilled professionals and money from Russian businesses not involved in the war,” the report says. The emerging new diaspora from Russia has political potential: it can play an important role in the transformation of Russia in the event of the fall of Putin’s dictatorship, and thus this community would see “a close and understanding ally, not an enemy” in Europe and the west as a whole, the study emphasizes.

The oppositionists believe that the approximately 300,000 Russians who left their homeland after the start of the war in Ukraine but who want to live in the EU would be willing to apply for the program.

The authors paint a portrait of these Russians: “They are not activists or oppositionists, but are driven by a search for options for a professional career, a risk-free place to live and a country in which their children could be raised outside the culture of hatred that is being created in Russia today.”

The authors of the report also suggest issuing “relocatee cards” inside Russia through European embassies, thus shifting the focus away from tourist visas.

“Relocatee card” not the same as “good Russian passport”

Gudkov insists that the current campaigns is aimed at eliminating discrimination against Russian nationals in the EU and has nothing to do with the idea of creating a Worldview ID system — a database of Russians with anti-war views, which social network memes dubbed the “good Russian passport.”

“That idea, which has been perverted, has already lost its relevance,” the politician explained.

The opposition politician also stressed that, in parallel, the study’s authors also propose that European authorities expand the program of issuing humanitarian visas, for which there is now a waiting list.

“But ninety-five percent of those who have left Russia do not need humanitarian visas. They are ready to work, earn money, and pay taxes. They don’t need welfare checks. We are highlighting them and suggesting various options for resettling them in the EU, which may not necessarily involve a relocatee card,” Gudkov concluded.

Otherwise, he argues, some of the relocatees will continue to return to Russia and restore the country’s economy, while another segment could become disillusioned with the west, “which makes no distinction between the Putin regime and people of modern liberal views who have become its hostages.”

Source: Alexei Strelnikov, “A proposal to European Union to simplify intake of immigrants from Russia,” Deutsche Welle, 11 June 2024. Translated by the Russian Reader

The “relocatees” are indeed the very models of modern major generals:

The Russians who have left also differ in their value system from those who decided to stay. They are much less religious, aligning more with the general sentiments of Europeans; they find it much easier to engage in collective, volunteer and non-profit projects; they display significant empathy — including towards Ukrainians who have become victims of Russian aggression — and are more often inclined to respect other ethnic groups and cultures, as well as showing a willingness to learn the languages of their new countries of residence, regardless of how long they intend to stay there.

Source: Dmitry Gudkov, Vladislav Inozemtsev and Dmitry Nekrasov, “The New Russian Diaspora: Europe’s Challenge and Opportunity”, Russie.Eurasie.Reports, No. 47, Ifri, June 2024, p. 17