The story is little known: for decades, signs reading “No Way Out” hung above certain passages in the Moscow metro that did not lead to the street. These signs psychologically worsened the bleakness of the Russian ’80s and ’90s and allegedly contributed to an increase in suicides on the metro tracks. Therefore, in 2005, the city administration decided to replace these signs with the less hopeless “No Trespassing.” Apparently, the experiment was successful, and the new signs remained.
˜
During the time I served in Moscow and spent four years there with my family, there was a widespread joke that there are three possible exits from the gloomy autumn-winter Moscow environment: Sheremetyevo, Domodedovo, and Vnukovo. These are the three international airports connecting Moscow to the world. Many Russians used this opportunity to travel to more expensive and prestigious destinations as well as more affordable ones like Turkey and Egypt. Today, at least the former are inaccessible to most. In short, those were different times.
I think of the joke about the three possible exits every time I hear simplified debates about what to do with the millions of Russians who oppose the war in Ukraine: either resist or flee. It sounds really simple, both options. Of course, this is often said by someone from the comfort of an armchair or a walk a few hundred or thousand kilometers away. There is so much moralizing that it sometimes makes my ears hurt. Interestingly, this type of simplified moralizing isn’t dominated by one or two groups: supporters of such black-and-white theses can be found across a wide spectrum, from Western intellectuals and commentators, Russians in emigration, to most Ukrainians.
How then to make sense of the events in Russia from this perspective? Is there any solution for those who oppose the war beyond fleeing or resisting? (Here it is worth noting that according to the latest somewhat reliable public opinion polls, for the first time there is a noticeable shift towards a larger number of people wanting the war to end rather than those advocating its continuation.) When I follow information from Russian sources, the writings of acquaintances and friends who still live and reside in Russia, the situation is far from black-and-white. But first, a few words about the strategy of fleeing or resisting.
Looking at the events in Russia from a time distance today, it is clear that the modern peak of the brain drain from Russia was recorded at the beginning of the war in February last year and then during the declared mobilization in September. In the interim period, the waves then calm down. I know a few people who returned after initially moving abroad for a few months. The reason? Both financial capabilities and the realization that Russians are not exactly welcomed with open arms anywhere in the world. Not even in friendly Turkey, where in some local communities the locals rebelled due to the consequent rise in real estate prices, nor in Kazakhstan, where the local elites fear too much Russification, and even less in EU countries. The duplicity of European politics is evident on many levels, one of which is that political statements like “Russians fleeing political persecution are welcome in the EU” are followed by practically impossible administrative procedures that, except for exceptions, do not guarantee even minimal legal conditions for residence, let alone work in the EU.
A very clear example of this is the case of an acquaintance who ran his own small service company in Russia and primarily did business with foreign countries. Since his business practically came to a halt overnight due to the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the consequent severance of economic relations between Russia and the West, he sought an exit in relocation and starting a similar activity in the EU, initially in Latvia, and then in Slovenia. Everywhere he quickly encountered an insurmountable obstacle: European banks simply stopped opening business and individual accounts for Russian citizens. It has nothing to do with whether they are for or against Putin or the war in Ukraine. A Russian passport meant the end of this yet-to-begin path. And so many thousands – after their tourist visas expired – returned home. Therefore, it is easy and simple to talk about the strategy of fleeing, but it is much harder to implement it.
There are even more calls for resistance from abroad, often hearing that “Russians have no right to complain until they themselves oppose the authoritarian regime.” It creates the image that there is no resistance or that it never existed. This image is incorrect. There was resistance (mass protests in 2012, in 2014 over the occupation of Crimea, etc.) and it still remains in Russia, but on other, less visible social levels. Public resistance is strictly punished by the regime, repression is drastically increasing: we almost daily hear about cases of multi-year prison sentences for allegedly discrediting the Russian army, spreading disinformation about the war in Ukraine, or violating the law on so-called foreign agents. The repressive legislation that emerged with the introduction of the foreign agents law in 2012 reads almost like a fairy tale compared to the horror that many activists, civil society representatives, and ordinary citizens experience now when expressing resistance. It’s one thing to ride a bike on Fridays; it’s another to spend a few days or weeks in solitary confinement in impossible conditions in a cell without concrete floors. Or the mass cases of rape and physical violence in prisons. Yes, this too is the Russian reality.
The resistance that is happening is multifaceted. It is armed in the form of guerrilla actions by individual groups in various parts of Russia that carry out attacks on military infrastructure, set fire to ammunition factories, warehouses, and destroy railway tracks. There aren’t enough of these to change the course of the war, but they shouldn’t be ignored either. Then there is the resistance of still-functioning civil organizations that, under (very) limited circumstances, still run programs offering legal assistance, representing victims and their relatives, ensuring that at least some letter of human rights remains in Russia. In this light, an interesting observation by Irina Shcherbakova, one of the founders of the humanitarian NGO Memorial, is noteworthy. She still remains in Russia and continues her work. In one of the interviews, she said that after the start of the war in Ukraine, they noticed greater support from the population for their projects in the form of volunteer assistance and micro-financial transactions. She explained this by saying that the war acted as a sobering moment for many and encouraged people to do at least something to mitigate the tragedy that is happening. To help maintain civil society movements, despite all the repression.
But there is a third group, actually a broader field of activity of people who say they are patriots and do not identify with Putin’s regime. People who continue their work in Russia in areas they consider important for the lives of millions and especially for the future of Russia. Among them are many doctors, teachers, professors, entrepreneurs, and philanthropists. When Mikhail Epstein, a world-renowned Russian cultural theorist, was asked how to (self-)rationalize such activity in an environment you do not support and disagree with but also have no opportunity or desire to leave Russia, he offered the following explanation: the work of many individuals is connected with the professional duty, the mission they perform. And performing this mission gives meaning to their lives, so it is completely understandable and human that such individuals find a quiet refuge in their professional work from the outside environment, no matter how terrifying it is.
It is easy to criticize such individuals from the outside for “equally blaming,” even for the mere fact that they remain in Russia and are not yet imprisoned. The latter alone serves as an accusation of almost collaboration with the authoritarian regime in today’s society of black-and-white truths. It is much harder to understand such individuals. Even harder is to establish an environment that would support such activities; because we will all in Europe live with such or another Russia for a long time. Even after the war in Ukraine ends, Russia and the wider environment will still very much need such individuals who will – hopefully – help co-create a better Russia.
˜
No Way Out is also the title of a hit by the Russian rock band Splin, which cannot have concerts in Russia, as it is – like many other musicians and artists – on the blacklist of performers. The band is not well known for anti-war songs (compared to the even older DDT), but the mere performance of this song at a concert months ago was enough for them to become unwanted.
The no-way-out spirit of the Moscow metro is still very much present.