‘Scum and traitors’: Hostile environs for Russia’s anti-war activists

Anna Afanasyeva, a fifth-year nursing student at St. Petersburg’s Pediatric University, admits she was feeling vague anti-war emotions as she went about her business in the city center March 2. But she says she had no intention of participating in any protests.

Nevertheless, she suddenly found herself grabbed by police near the Gostiny Dvor metro station in downtown St. Petersburg, where no rally even seemed to be happening, and thrown into a police van along with several other people.

Editor’s note: This article was edited in order to conform with Russian legislation criminalizing references to Russia’s current action in Ukraine as anything other than a “special military operation.”

She spent two nights in police detention before being taken to court. A sympathetic judge considered the charge of participating in an illegal assembly, noted that Ms. Afanasyeva had no previous record, and let her off with a light fine. That was just the beginning of her troubles.

“Without even waiting for the court decision, my university summarily expelled me,” she says. “There was no due process according to the rules for expelling a student. I was just told to leave. I am trying to solve this, hopefully without suing the university. If I go that way I can lose a year or more of studies. ... I am just so upset about all this. I’ve heard that there is a blanket order to expel all students who participate in anti-war activities, and I just fell victim to it.”

Welcome to Russia in the second month of the “special military operation” in Ukraine, where the social and political atmosphere – never very receptive to dissenting opinions – is rapidly chilling. Military conflict can have harsh effects on any society, proscribing criticism and tarring anti-war sentiments as treason. But for many Russians trying to find their feet and feel their way through frightening political restrictions not seen in the lifetimes of most, the dangers remain the source of deep uncertainty.

Timur, another St. Petersburg student, was briefly detained by police for alleged illegal protesting and let go. But he has been expelled from his university. The vice rector called Timur into his office and told him that “you are the kind of person who would stab us in the back and spit on the graves of our soldiers. ... You are not wanted here.” Timur has retained a lawyer to appeal the expulsion, and faces military conscription if he can’t get the decision reversed. “I really want to finish my studies,” he says.

According to the Latvia-based online news service Zerkalo, a dozen members of Russia’s National Guard from the southern region of Krasnodar refused to deploy to Ukraine in late February on the grounds that their duties were confined to Russian territory, and were immediately fired. They appealed to lawyers and sued for reinstatement.

One of the lawyers, Mikhail Banyash, says that of the original 12 guardsmen, most have quit and only 3 are still pressing the case.

“The pressure they have been subjected to testifies that their case is sound,” says Mr. Banyash. “But it’s a complicated case, and I can’t predict how it might turn out.”

“True patriots” vs. “scum and traitors”

The tone has been set by Russian President Vladimir Putin, who recently adopted rhetoric that hasn’t been heard in Russia for a very long time. Apparently referring to Russians with a pro-Western point of view as internal enemies, he said: “The collective West is trying to divide our society using, to its own advantage, combat losses and the socioeconomic consequences of the sanctions, and to provoke civil unrest in Russia and use its fifth column in an attempt to achieve this goal. ... But any nation, and even more so the Russian people, will always be able to distinguish true patriots from scum and traitors and will simply spit them out like an insect in their mouth, spit them onto the pavement.”

So far the police crackdown on people who allegedly express opposition to the ongoing military operation has been relatively mild by Russian standards. According to the protest-monitoring group OVD-Info, about 15,000 people have been detained by police since the operation began, the majority of them receiving administrative fines rather than prison sentences.

The main impact to date of the crisis has been the shock and emotional dislocation that has been disproportionately suffered by more youthful, educated, and professional Russians, with many thousands quitting their jobs or even leaving the country. Critical media voices, both independent and mainstream, have been effectively silenced, with Novaya Gazeta being the last independent outlet to close its doors.

Ironically, the same segment of society has also been affected most immediately and deeply by the intensifying Western-imposed sanctions regime, as a result of being cut off from family, property, work, and travel to the West.

Polls suggest popular support is actually consolidating behind Russian authorities as the conflict intensifies, though Lev Gudkov, director of the independent pollster Levada Center, says that under-30s tend to be far more skeptical of official claims than their elders.

“Russian youth are far more negative toward the military operation, those between 15 and 30,” who make up about 15% of the population, he says. “They are scared of the consequences of war, particularly young men who face the prospect of military service. ... Perhaps half of the youth are opposed to the operation, but many are also indifferent, who don’t want to notice events. But on the whole, there seems little appetite for public protest.”

“I don’t believe that I should hide”

For the moment, at least, many politically active young people seem to think that they can adapt to the situation and navigate around the increasingly draconian laws against “fake news” concerning the special military operation.

Nikita, a liberal political activist, publishes carefully calculated criticism on social media, but says he would rather his full name not appear in a U.S. newspaper “under these circumstances.” Still, he’s happy to discuss the dangerous ambiguities that regulate any sort of political speech in Russia today.

“We are faced with new rules. We just don’t know where the boundaries are, or what it’s going to be like tomorrow,” he says. “I am just not sure what I can say. Will I be punished or not? On the first day [of the operation] I posted a note on one of my social media pages that I believe in diplomacy, but not the diplomacy of the tank. It doesn’t seem to have been noticed, but who knows? ... I think we just have to wait, survive, until this operation ends. Then we will see what Russia has changed into, what is the new Russia? Then we’ll have a better idea about how to go forward.”

Egor Kotkin is a left-wing activist who has no problem with speaking plainly. He has long lived an openly gay lifestyle in Moscow, and says he finds Russians to be generally much more tolerant and open-minded than their leaders.

A promotional writer for IT companies, Mr. Kotkin says he never watches TV, has generally opposition-minded co-workers, and mainly encounters pro-Kremlin views through his partner’s family and his relationship with his mother. She is a big fan of Mr. Putin, he says.

“My mother has formed a relationship, through the media, with Putin and the regime. She sees them as part of her life; she trusts them on a personal level. I try not to touch that, because it would spoil my relations with my mom. I guess a lot of families are like that,” he says.

“I don’t believe that I should hide. But we seem to be living under something like martial law. So, anything can change.”