Moscow is a proud city, but the harsh realities of Putin’s war are constantly coming back here.
On many fronts – from economic to political – the backlash from the Russian army the adventures of hundreds of miles in Ukraine are now being felt in this vast capital of almost 12 million people.
First, a draconian new law imposed by the Kremlin now requires all young men between the ages of 18 and 27 for a project.
“I don’t want my child to die in Putin’s crazy war,” insisted Anna, 47, a lawyer for a Russian state-owned company whose 19-year-old son works as a freelance film editor during his pre-university year.
“If you are not in regular training, you can be picked up from the street and sent straight to [Army] medical commission.
Anna plans to take her son to safety in Tbilisi, Georgia, which has become a center for exiled young Russian journalists, activists and creative professionals.
Moscow is a proud city, but the harsh realities of Putin’s war are constantly returning here, writes Owen Matthews. Above: ATM queue at a Moscow shopping center
Putin has banned direct flights from Russia to Georgia, although tickets via Armenia and Turkey costing more than £ 800 can be found.
Anna does not speak on behalf of all Russians, of course.
Maria, 48, whose 20-year-old son served in an infantry unit in the North Caucasus, told me, “If my son dies, he will die a hero and I will be proud of him.”
So far, public support for the invasion – a word officially banned by the state media – seems strong.
Initial polls by Kremlin-approved agencies show that about 68 percent of Russians agree with Putin’s attack on Ukraine, with only 26 percent opposed.
But it looks like those numbers will change as sanctions bite, hitting the middle class hard.
Well-educated and Western Russians are often most concerned about the immediate future – and they have the most to lose from hard currency savings, vacations abroad, cars and clothes.
Long queues formed in front of banks and currency exchange booths as the ruble depreciated by 40 percent.
Branches of some banks in central Moscow have put up signs on their windows warning they no longer hold hard currency.
For the first time since the collapse of the Soviet Union more than 30 years ago, an unofficial black market for dollars has emerged, with an exchange office in Smolenskaya Square quoting 160 rubles per dollar, well above the official exchange rate of 119.
Customers also flock to electronics and computer stores, buying imported goods before prices rise to reflect the devaluation of the ruble.
In M-Video on Krasnopresnenskaya Street, all microwave ovens, vacuum cleaners and laptops were running out.
“We have two deliveries from our warehouse in two days,” said sales manager Kiril. “It’s usually one a week.” We have exhausted many of our most popular lines.
Two teenagers stopped to help 81-year-old Svetlana Alekseevna choose a computer for her grandson.
“I wanted to wait for his birthday, but who knows if I’ll be able to afford it if I don’t buy it today?” She asked.
On many fronts – from economic to political – the retreat from Russia’s military adventures hundreds of miles into Ukraine is now being felt in this vast capital of almost 12 million people. Above: Information board for currency exchange in Moscow
She refused to blame Putin for the crisis. “We survived the Great Patriotic War,” Svetlana said, using the Russian term for the country’s terrible battle against Hitler.
“It simply came to our notice then. We are not afraid of the West: let them do the worst. The Russians always stand for what is right.
Her compatriots will have to share her resilient attitude in order to survive the coming weeks. Only financial headaches are endless.
After the sanctions expelled almost all Russian banks from the international banking exchange system Swift, the transfer of money outside Russia became almost impossible.
Yesterday, the Kremlin banned Russians from trying to send money abroad anyway.
Evgeny Laptiev, 42, a manager of an IT company in Moscow, congratulated himself a few days ago on transferring all his rubles to the euro.
But now the Russian state-owned bank VTB is refusing to allow him to send his money to his Latvian bank account.
“I was planning to start a whole new life and a new business outside of Russia,” he said.
“Now my money is hostage, as is my family.”
Also, after Russia’s exclusion from Swift, foreign credit cards have stopped working and international visitors have suddenly been unable to pay for goods.
With interest rates doubling to a staggering 20 percent, mortgage and loan payments have risen to levels that many cannot afford.
But no one is deluded that they can sell their house to escape these payments: the real estate market has stopped as sellers withdraw from the market and keep their properties.
“People are afraid that they will wake up tomorrow and their money has turned into sweets,” said Irina Ptenchikova, 38, a Moscow real estate agent.
It is becoming increasingly difficult for all wealthier Muscovites who want to flee their country.
The EU, the United States, Canada and other countries have closed their airspace to Russian planes, leaving Istanbul one of the few airports where Russians can escape.
Turkish Airlines’ four daily flights sold out quickly, and a one-way ticket from Moscow to Istanbul jumped to more than 1,400 British pounds.
“Prices are crazy, but people will pay because they are afraid that the borders will be completely closed,” said Maxim Rozanov, 55, the owner of a car leasing company who had bought tickets for his wife and son to travel. to Istanbul tomorrow.
People line up in front of an ATM of Sberbank in the GUM department store in Moscow
“Everyone I know who can afford to get away is trying to figure out where they could go, what they could do. The business here will be dead for a long time.
State propaganda is fighting hard against this growing sense of panic. TV commentators are urging Russians to ignore the collapsing value of their currency and believe more and more in the justice of Putin’s war against the alleged “fascist” government in Kyiv.
“I know that some of you have a hard time,” said Vladimir Solovyov, a well-known TV presenter.
“We will overcome everything, we will endure everything. We will rebuild our own economy from scratch, an independent banking system, manufacturing and industry. We will rely on ourselves. It may be a vain hope.
Yes, the Kremlin still receives nearly £ 1 billion a day from European consumers of its gas and oil, and Russia is largely self-sufficient in agriculture.
But as the value of people’s savings collapses, the limitations of their daily lives increase, and as Russia’s status as an international pariah grows, will there come a time when a mass of ordinary Russians begin to oppose their president’s war?
Time will tell. But Putin certainly knows that a failed venture in Ukraine can only sustain public support for so long.
And when that support goes, his own power may begin to loosen – and the millions of Russians who are now feeling the effects of his war will begin to seek change.