It was two years ago. The beginning of the Kremlin's “special military operation” in Ukraine and the end of Igor's promising studies. The 17-year-old was preparing to enter one of the best universities in Moscow. “But the day Russia started this war, which is not ours, we did not hesitate,” recalls Piotr, his father, a 53-year-old computer scientist. Together, Igor and Piotr joined the small groups of protesters who took to the streets to demand their resistance. They spoke to the press. Father and son kept the recordings of the interviews. Videos showing them circulated on social networks.
“When they came home, we realized the danger: we had to leave the country,” remembers Marina, the mother, 50, an executive in a private company. A new law promises up to fifteen years in prison for those who “discredit” the army. The two men were not immune to mobilization either. In a hurry, but with European visas and financial reserves in their pockets, the family fled ten days after the offensive began. First in Bulgaria, then to Israel.
Today the couple talks about their escape from the kitchen of the family apartment… in Moscow. “We had to come back. Who needs us there? Our roots, our mentality remain Russian,” explains Piotr. The computer scientist had taken his computers with him to continue working remotely, but his salary did not cover the costs of a family in exile. “We couldn’t live in a foreign country as perpetual tourists,” added Marina, who also returned to get her parents and disabled brother. They continue to discreetly oppose the Kremlin. Igor, the son, eventually found a place at a good university in the Netherlands. “Without Putin and his war, we would be here as a family drinking tea,” laments Piotr. But the main thing is: Igor is safe, far away from Russia.
“There will be no new mobilization”
Like them, several hundred thousand, perhaps up to a million, Russians left their country in the first year of the conflict, out of opposition to the Kremlin or fear of mobilization. Estimates vary and are difficult to verify. As would the number of returnees, which would be high. Their reasons are varied: family, professional or financial. Others simply think the worst is over.
“There will be no new military mobilization because the army is recruiting enough volunteers,” believes 43-year-old Anatoli. The risks are lower. And we have gotten used to living in this Russia that we don't like, but that remains our country. » He feels all the more comfortable because he works in a growing sector in an economy that remains resilient: the restaurant industry. “The West's sanctions have a contradictory effect: the richest can no longer withdraw their money and that's why there are lots of them in Moscow, with lots of new restaurants!” »
On the contrary, Andreï, 25, lives in political and psychological suffering. His hesitant voice and his wavering gaze alone reveal his everyday stress. During the mobilization, he did not hesitate to abandon his promising marketing beginnings and flee to Uzbekistan, one of the countries of the former Soviet Union where Russians can still enter without a visa. “But with no job, no savings, I had to return to Moscow. And it’s hard to live in a country that isn’t your own,” laments Andreï. “Today I have a job. But I am scared. The army can remobilize at any time. And the courts can prosecute me for my anti-war positions. » A sad smile crosses his face. “In doubt and fear we survive more than we live. Without horizon. »
Return for the better…go
Others, like Andreï, dream of being able to leave Russia again. And he is not the only one in Moscow among those who have returned from exile. “Everything is ready!”, smiles Sergei, 35 years old. This director is against “this war that shames us.” An artistic challenge: He oscillates between liberal beliefs and repressive laws. But also a family challenge: When the army in When their “partial mobilization” was announced in September 2022, he left his pregnant wife behind in Russia and fled to Poland with friends, then to Germany and Turkey. “It was panic, but leaving was the right decision,” remembers Sergei.
Over coffee in Moscow he talks about his impending departure. He returned to Russia because he did not want to live far from his family. After the birth of their second child, which is scheduled for the end of March, they will all leave together. This time not a chaotic escape, but “a real departure”. Direction of a country in the European Union that has granted them visas. Sergei is well connected and relies on his cultural networks for help. “To work without thinking about the risk of arrest. Start a new life, without war and without danger…” This time he will have sufficient resources to finance this major family upheaval. He sold his apartment and transferred the money to a bank account in a Central Asian capital. In a country that is friendly to Russia, but also to Europe.
Another bill in the Duma is currently causing a stir among many Kremlin opponents. At the end of January, MPs approved a text allowing the confiscation of the property of people deemed too critical. It's certainly not written in black and white, but the message is clear. Main goal: Refugee Russians, labeled “traitors” by Kremlin propaganda, could be punished with the confiscation of their property, especially real estate. “It's back to 1937!” fears Sergei like others, an allusion to the time of Stalinist terror. There is no doubt in his mind: we have to leave Putin's Russia.
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