Notes at the Front

Were you even listening?

IN JULY, opposition politicians Alexei Navalny and Ilya Yashin, both political prisoners, appeared in court together – virtually – after Yashin was called as a witness by Navalny in his latest kangaroo court trial. Here is some of Yashin’s account, published on the Protest Russia Telegram channel.

Last week, straight from prison, I was connected via video link to Navalny’s court proceedings. He had requested thatvI be called as a witness, and the judge did not object. Alexei himself essentially led the questioning. At times it was actually funny. Navalny, despite all the mistreatment and punishment cells, was cheerful and in fine form. I provide here, from memory (and so it may be preserved in memory), several excerpts from our dialog.

“Ilya, what do you think, why am I on trial?”

“It’s obvious, Alexei. It’s because you are the leader of the opposition to Vladimir Putin.”

“The prosecutor is smiling at your words. Why do you think that is?”

“I request that the accused redirect his question to Doctor Freud. I lack sufficient competence to interpret the prosecutor’s subconscious reactions.”

◀︎ ▶︎

“Ilya, the indictment alleges that in 2013 I participated in the Moscow mayoral elections with the extremist motive of inciting hatred toward the government and for the purpose of overthrowing it. Do you know anything about this?”

“Overthrow the government through an election? Hm… As far as I recall, you were a registered candidate and received support from one-third of the electorate. According to the prosecutor’s logic, the entire Electoral Committee and hundreds of thousands of Muscovites should also be facing charges.”

“Don’t give the prosecutor ideas!”

◀︎ ▶︎

“I am accused of raising funds for the presidential election prior to the official start of the electoral campaign. To what extent is this a widespread practice? Who, other than myself, has done this?”

“This is standard practice in Russia and all over the world. In order to win elections, you have to prepare ahead of time: open an office, hire workers, train volunteers… This is what all candidates in our country do. This is what Donald Trump is doing right now, raising several million dollars, more than a year before the election. I myself did the same thing!”

“I was going to ask you, Ilya, why you are not in prison, if you did this same thing. But then I remembered, that, generally speaking, you are in prison.”

◀︎ ▶︎

At the end of questioning, the prosecutor took over:

“Tell me Yashin…”

“Not ‘Tell me, Yashin,’ but ‘tell me, respected witness.’”

“Ahem… Well, fine. Tell us, did I understand you correctly that Navalny should be allowed to break the law, simply because Trump does so?”

“A strange conclusion. Actually, I said that Navalny was engaging in legal political activity and did not break any laws. Were you even listening to what I said?”

Protest Russia Telegram Channel
t.me/+PrKJH47ZO94zOTJi

◀︎ ▶︎

IN JUNE, a judge in Kaliningrad sentenced 64-year-old Igor Baryshnikov to seven and a half years in a penal colony. Baryshnikov was tried under the charge of disseminating “fakes” about the Russian military after he allegedly posted several messages on a personal Facebook account about the Russian army’s shelling of Mariupol and its crimes in Bucha.

Rights activists say the decision could be a death sentence not only for Baryshnikov, who has cancer and needs an urgent operation, but for his 97-year-old mother Yevgenia, a survivor of Nazi atrocities in Belarus who fled to Russia on foot in 1941. Yevgenia is bedridden after breaking her leg several years ago and her son is her sole caregiver. Russian authorities have said she will now be handed over to social services.

Below is Baryshnikov’s final statement to the court on June 21. The original statement in Russian was published by Sota Vision: t.me/sotaproject/61311

Esteemed members of the court! Your Honor!

I was born in this city. I was educated here. I spent my formative years here. And now I’m being tried for crimes that I did not commit and that I couldn’t have committed.

I am accused of a serious crime. However, I did not kill, rob, or rape anybody. I did not steal anything from anyone. The investigators have not presented any evidence of my guilt and were forced to invent words and deeds that I did not say or do.

Just look at the testimony of the representative of my building’s tenant association, a pensioner born in 1937. You have seen this woman, Your Honor. She is elderly and ill; she moves with difficulty and is hard of hearing; she hardly understands what is going on in the world. And yet her written testimony states that Baryshnikov was inciting her to join some sort of protests.

My lawyers have presented the court notarized evidence that my Facebook page was not publicly accessible during the period of these alleged crimes. But the conclusions drawn by the prosecution’s experts are all based on the premise that my posts were visible to the public.

This case accuses me of inciting hatred toward a group of people who support the Russian government. But where is the evidence of this? How could I incite hatred on a private Facebook page, only visible to my friends, people who share my views?

The prosecution does not realize what is going on, but I will say this. There are people who fully support this government and the “special military operation” but nevertheless support me, however paradoxical this may sound. And they pray for me. So you see, Your Honor, life is more complicated than a fabricated case. The prosecution, when they were fabricating this case, could hardly have foreseen this.

I am essentially being accused of publishing information that differs from the statements of General [Igor] Konashenkov [spokesman for the Russian Defense Ministry]. There are no injured parties in my case. And yet the prosecutor is asking for eight years in a penal colony, claiming that a shorter term will not rehabilitate me. When reading the charges, she made grammatical errors, sometimes not understanding the meaning of the words she was saying. For example, reading the word режи́м [regime], she put the stress in the wrong syllable, making it sound like ре́жем [we cut]. Given the fact that the prosecutor hands down sentences for nothing so casually, I do hope she will read the criminal case against herself more attentively.

Article 207.3, Part 2, Paragraph “e” of the Russian Criminal Code that I have been charged under is a carbon copy of the Soviet-era Article190-1: dissemination of insinuations about the Soviet state and social order that are known to be false. That is to say, today’s “lawmakers” didn’t even have to come up with anything original.

My criminal case has been falsified following the model of 1937, when a person could be put in prison for 10 years or shot based on fantastical accusations. For example, the astrophysicist Nikolai Kozyrev was accused of planning to channel the Volga to the West, and farmers in Chelyabinsk Oblast were accused of working for Japanese intelligence.

During the trial, I experienced a flare-up of an old illness. The court was presented with all the documents confirming this. It is clear that I did not commit any crimes, and that I harbored no plans to harm relationships within society. Therefore, I ask the court to issue an acquittal. At the very least, my health should be taken into account, as well as the fact that I am the primary caregiver for my mother, who is bedridden and will turn 97 in ten days. She will not last the eight years that the prosecution is asking.

I thank all participants of this trial. We have not forgotten how to listen to each other. There is only one small thing left to do: learn to understand each other. That’s it from me.

Serbian Sojourn

RUSSIA’S INVASION of Ukraine and subsequent mobilization, increasingly repressive laws, and international sanctions have led hundreds of thousands of Russians to leave their country. Some have fled due to their political views, imminent prosecution for anti-war activism, or jobs involving work that can no longer be safely carried out under current conditions (for example journalism for critical media outlets). Others are looking for opportunities elsewhere for pragmatic reasons, realizing the limitations of remaining in a pariah state.

Estimates vary as to how many Russians have moved away, partly due to the fluid nature of migration in the twenty-first century, for example, compared to the wave of White Russian emigration a century earlier. According to an investigation by the BBC’s Russian-language news service, over 155,000 Russians have been granted residency in the countries that are the top destinations for the current exodus. Over 15,000 have asked for asylum in the countries of the European Union (most were not granted asylum, however). Russian Forbes estimates that over 600,000 left the country after the announcement of mobilization in September 2022.^[1]

Some 200,000 are estimated to have arrived in Serbia, swelling the population of Belgrade (approximately 1.6 million in 2022), driving up housing prices, and partly altering the capital’s relaxed Balkan lifestyle. A pre-war destination primarily of interest to a small percentage of Russian aficionados of Goran Bregović music and Emir Kusturica films, Serbia has suddenly become a magnet for Russians primarily because of the ease of remaining in the country legally. Residency is granted to anyone who purchases property or sets up a local “legal entity” and pays monthly taxes (about 400 euros). But even those without sufficient resources for these two options can stay provided they make regular “visa runs” to nearby Bosnia or Montenegro, where no visa is required.

“I feel like people keep arriving all the time,” said Oleg Charnyshevich, a software engineer who was one of the first in his IT company to arrive from St. Petersburg in June 2022 and who then helped two dozen of his colleagues do the same. He said he picked Serbia because he felt that the more obvious destinations, like Georgia, Armenia, and Kazakhstan, are still within the “Moscow orbit.” And he feared that Turkey, a NATO ally, would be less welcoming. Indeed, Turkey is now denying residency permits – which were previously available to those arriving even on tourist visas – to most Russians. Meanwhile, in Tbilisi and Yerevan, comparatively small capitals, the colossal influx of Russians is overwhelming available housing and infrastructure, causing conflicts and swelling local opposition.

Walking through some neighborhoods in Belgrade, it can sometimes seem as if more people are speaking Russian than Serbian. The older, more affluent central parts of the city, like Dorćol, not far from the Belgrade Fortress, seem to be especially popular with Russians from Moscow and St. Petersburg. But across the river, Novi Beograd, a district of wide avenues and apartment blocks reminiscent of the prefab-concrete “panelka” buildings ubiquitous throughout the former Soviet Union, is also becoming sought-after.

“Belgrade is a real, large capital; compared with Yerevan and Tbilisi, it has many neighborhoods, so Russians that arrive don’t feel like they’re living on top of one another,” said Anna Konkina, whose Telegram channel t.me/SerbiaInMyMind serves as a guide to local realities and cultural happenings. Launching her channel as a small restaurant review blog for friends and family, Konkina, who moved to Belgrade from Moscow in 2017, said she has been shocked at the increase in her subscribers since the war began.

She first thought her channel could help link up Ukrainian refugees and those in Serbia who were willing to help, for example with housing. “But very quickly,” she said, “it became clear that there are very few Ukrainian refugees coming to Serbia, because they believe that Serbs support Russia and they don’t think they would be comfortable here.” Instead, her channel became a platform for Russians “arriving first in the hundreds, and then in thousands,” many of them “anxious and confused” about how to navigate the administrative and legal challenges.

Now boasting over 27,000 subscribers, Konkina’s channel invites discussion, but political conversations were banned after too many debates turned nasty, she said. She is hoping to provide a platform that helps and unites rather than divides Russians. She said that “old-timers” frequently criticize those newly arrived from cities like Moscow for their impatience with Balkan ways. Other arguments break out because people are “of various shades of liberal,” with some more vocal than others.

Those more politically active are hosting events and talks. One anti-war organization called the Russian Democratic Society launched in Serbia in the fall of 2022 and organizes events, demonstrations, and donation drives. In July, they hosted a week-long “School of Civic Activism.”

Konkina said that, although not comparable in scale, there are parallels between the “White emigration” of Russians a century ago and the current wave. “Many people back then came to the Balkans via Istanbul,” she said. “About half of them stayed and the other half moved on. A similar thing is happening now: many people are here temporarily, as they need time to put together all the documents to apply, for example, for talent visas in countries like Canada, or find jobs in EU countries.” Others, after spending time in Serbia, move back to Russia, because they find emigration financially prohibitive, or miss their families too much. And the rest stay, adapting to Serbia in some ways, and changing it in others.

Serbia has historically been allied with Russia: aside from cultural and religious ties, Serbs see Moscow as a political power that stood up to NATO, the military alliance that inflicted an aerial campaign against then-Yugoslavia in 1999, an attempt to intervene in the ethnic cleansing of Albanians. Several locations in Belgrade were bombed. A decade ago, Russian-speaking tourists could be stopped on the streets of Belgrade by random Serbs expressing their approval and praising Russia and Vladimir Putin as great friends and allies. While today Putin T-shirts are no longer a staple of tourist souvenir stalls, support for Russia is palpable, and you can easily find items with the “Z” symbolizing support for Moscow’s military campaign in Ukraine.

This initially provoked profound “shock and stress” in opposition-minded Russians arriving in the country, according to Konkina. One manifestation of this tension is an ongoing battle of graffiti artists in the city, with Russians in Belgrade painting over the various “Z’s” and Russian flags painted by Serb activists, turning them into Ukrainian flags, for example. “People have trouble sharing the urban space,” Konkina said. “Serbs supporting Russia try to manifest this support in ways they see as appropriate, while Russians arriving here want to express that this is not normal.”

“Support for Russia is very widespread, but Serbs always listen to the other point of view,” Konkina said. “They are always interested to hear it – they are wise people who have had a difficult past, and they can really listen. They have an idealized view of Russia, but, through conversations with Russian immigrants, they are now discovering alternative views they had not previously encountered.”

Meanwhile, Russians are opening many cafés and restaurants in the Serbian capital. Yandex, the Russian internet giant, opened a Belgrade office and this summer began testing its self-driving vehicles in the Serbian capital.

Charnyshevich, the software engineer, said Russians arriving in Serbia are introducing the type of customer service Russians have become used to in recent years, with things like online booking and payment, rather than the face-to-face arrangements Belgrade had been more accustomed to.

“In Serbia, you often need to go to a beauty salon physically to make an appointment,” Charnyshevich said. “And they would write your name in a ledger that would then get lost. Now Russian ladies are launching salons with online confirmation, and restaurants are following suit.”

Konkina agreed. “Everybody’s favorite Serbia story is about how, when you set an appointment with a plumber here to fix your shower and he says I’ll come tomorrow at noon, he actually arrives a week later at 6 pm… This can be shocking to people who have come from Moscow, which has had a fantastic level of service in the past few years, something that most European capitals can only dream of, and they expect the same.”

But Russians don’t just criticize, she said: some initiate change, for example by teaming up with local Serbian activists to clear Belgrade neighborhoods of trash – something that is a problem. Others cooperate with municipal authorities to host free yoga classes, or open coworking studios that welcome Russians and Serbs. Russian architects have also collaborated to design a project to save the beloved Old Sava Bridge across the Sava River, a structure that Belgrade authorities had been planning to demolish for decades, despite the opposition of local residents.

Charnyshevich suspects the influx of Russians into Serbia will be more noticeable with time. “Not that much time has passed since September, when many people arrived after the mobilization announcement,” he said. And he believes that the effect of having companies like Yandex there has not yet been fully felt. He personally has no plans to return to Russia: “I didn’t have anything in Russia when I left. Even if Putin is toppled tomorrow, I have told myself there won’t be anything there for me for another decade.”

srb.guide – Oleg Charnyshevich’s guide
for Russians coming to Serbia

one hundred years ago

IN THE 1920s Serbia – then the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes – was a key destinations for fleeing White Russians, the military and civilian allies of the Russian monarchy that was toppled by the Russian Revolution of 1917.

The Kingdom opened its doors to Russians out of gratitude for their defending Serbia in 1914. Whole military units were welcomed, and Belgrade became a cultural center for fleeing emigres. Among those seeking refuge in Serbia was General Pyotr Wrangel, a chief officer in the Russian army who attempted to resist the Bolsheviks in Crimea during the Civil War before heading the mass evacuation to Constantinople (Istanbul) in 1920. In 1922 he moved to Serbia and established in Sremski Karlovci a union aiming to organize military emigres. His family eventually moved on to Belgium, where he died in 1928.

Mikhail Rodzianko, a Russian statesman of Ukrainian origin who served as chairman of the State Duma until October 1917 and was even prime minister for several days, was another high-level official who emigrated to Serbia. He is buried in Belgrade. Nikolai Krasnov, once the chief architect of Yalta, became the head of the Department of Monumental Architectural Developments in Belgrade and designed many buildings, including the Serbian National Archive and the Yugoslav Ministry of Finance. Nina Kirsanova, a former Bolshoi Ballet dancer, became one of the most important dancers in the National Theater in Belgrade.

The Mural of this Story...

Walk around Belgrade and you will quickly see that street murals are something of a cultural phenomenon. Residential buildings in the suburbs often bear portraits – memorials to young men who died before their time that have been painted by their friends. And central locations offer more organized depictions of political or cultural figures. Since Russia invaded Ukraine, one spot, at the intersection of King Milutin and Njegoševa streets, has seen a particularly heated graffiti battle.

First, a portrait of Vladimir Putin, against a backdrop including a Russian flag and the word “Brat” (Brother), appeared in February 2022, soon after the invasion. The portrait was defaced a few days later with the Russian word “Killer” in red paint, and Putin’s face was given a Stalinesque mustache. The portrait was then restored, but a few days later Putin’s eyes were spraypainted red and the letter B was removed from the word “Brat” (rat is the Serbian word for “war”). A few weeks later, sunglasses were painted to cover Putin’s blood-red eyes. After a while, “Brat” was colored in Ukrainian yellow, and red paint again oozed from Putin’s eyes. The portrait was again fixed in September 2022.

In October, red Russian signs declaring “No to War” and “Khuilo” (f***r) adorned the Putin portrait, and in December, the entire composition was painted over with the Russian opposition’s white-blue-white flag, complete with the words “No to War.”

The sparring was not limited to graffiti. During the months of confrontation, a Russian opposition activist was beaten up, and Serbian activists set up a post to guard the mural, according to Anna Konkina.

In the end, it took a national tragedy to quell the dispute. A 13-year-old student opened fire in the nearby Vladislav Ribnikar elementary school in May 2023, leaving ten people dead and profoundly shocking the country. Since then, neither side has touched the wall, according to Konkina.