stories

A 21-year-old candidate for Russia’s antiwar Yabloko party documented her campaign for the St. Petersburg legislature

Source: Meduza

Russia’s elections are over, and Yabloko faced unprecedented pressure throughout them. The party’s federal list was removed from the ballot back in the summer, and its regional lists followed. Only one survived, in the Novgorod region. Yabloko candidates running for regional legislatures in single-member districts complained of pressure, and several were removed from the ballot. The outlet Bereg has published the diary of Marina Peslyak, a 21-year-old antiwar candidate for St. Petersburg’s Legislative Assembly who managed to defend her place on the ballot. For more than a month, Peslyak recorded the election commission’s absurd demands, pressure from law enforcement, and the everyday work of running a campaign. Meduza is translating the diary here.

Bereg shortened and lightly edited Peslyak’s diary and added a timeline of the pressure on Yabloko to her entries.

August 11, thirty-eight days until the election

The district election commission (DEC) got in touch: one person’s donation doesn’t meet legal requirements, even though he filled in all his details correctly. I’m annoyed. One more formality I have to deal with.

Every message from the commission is insanely stressful. I’m afraid they’ve found another reason to kick me off the ballot.

Spent two hours sorting things out with Sberbank — even the staff don’t know how to return a payment like this. But I got it done. It seems like a small thing, but after two hours on one transaction, you just want to shut everything down and not do anything else today.

In the evening, The New York Times reached out. They asked me to comment on my campaign, my motivation, and Yabloko’s list being thrown out. It’s a really strange feeling: a few hours ago I was dealing with the bank, and now the NYT is writing to me.

August 12

I arranged to speak with the NYT journalist, but I’m worried about the possible consequences. Yabloko’s headquarters ignored my question about whether I should agree to the interview.

I wouldn’t want to be answering for the whole party when I’m a candidate for the city legislature. I’m anxious. I want to speak honestly, but I keep thinking about where my personal views end and where I start speaking on behalf of the party.

Lyudmila Vasilyeva wrote to me. She’s asking how she can help.

Gave the interview. It seems like it went fine, but I still have the feeling that now I’m going to replay every sentence [and worry].

August 13

Woke up in the night with a panic attack, thinking I might have said too much in the interview. I’m scared they’ll kick me off the ballot. Scared law enforcement officers will break into my home. Scared for my mom and my sister, who are staying with me right now. At night it all felt completely real, but by morning it was clear how badly I’d worked myself up.

Still, I just have to get up and keep going. I’m writing to everyone who signed up to volunteer.

Talking with the BBC about filming a documentary on my campaign. I don’t even know yet what there is to film: there are hardly any people involved, there’s no money either, and I can’t even get the campaigning off the ground. It’s awkward: it’s supposed to be a film about a campaign, but there’s practically no active campaign.

August 14

Met with Yabloko’s people in my district, and we talked about our next steps — what we can pull off with the resources I have. For the first time in several days, I felt a little calmer. It’s starting to feel like we at least have some kind of plan.

Messaging volunteers, setting up a meeting. Late at night, I’m writing a post asking for donations. It’s a little awkward to ask people for money again, but without it there’s nothing to run this campaign on.

August 15

Meeting with Lyudmila Vasilyeva and a BBC cameraman, taking photos, talking about the campaign’s problems. I’m filmed for an interview. Of course, she didn’t tell me anything new, but I was glad to see her two years after we last met. Back then I was collecting signatures for her myself, and now I’m the candidate.

It’s uncomfortable to sit in a café next to a metro station and film a conversation about what’s wrong in the country and what’s ahead for us. In a public place, on camera, we’re talking about things people don’t usually say out loud.

August 16

Taking part in a Yabloko photo shoot.

August 17

The BBC film about my campaign isn’t happening: the cameraman suddenly left Russia, and the active phase of my campaign started pretty late.

Working on notifying the territorial election commission (TEC) about my printed campaign materials.

August 18, one month until the election

The ballot draw.

When I handed over my passport at the ID check at the entrance to the city election commission, a commission member said: “Oh, you’re the one we reinstated! Make sure she gets in, and everyone should know her face. Other complaints are citing her case now.” Funny.

August 19

Apple Savior Day. Went to a meeting at Yabloko’s city headquarters and handed over the results of the drawing so they could sign the contracts with media outlets.

August 20

Going over legal issues with volunteers. Signing contracts with TV companies, writing the script for a video to air on TV. To get the video into the airtime slots the channels assigned me, I’ll have to hand it in in just a few days.

Yabloko can’t record videos for all its candidates: State Duma candidates get priority. We’ll try to do it on our own.

August 21

We’re trying to find a video editor. Not many responses so far. The price people are asking is sky-high [for the campaign’s budget] — 15,000 rubles.

August 22

Out of nowhere, they wrote to say Yabloko’s headquarters had found time to shoot the video. I need to be at headquarters at 5:00 p.m. and send the script by 3:00.

In the end, everything gets postponed because of bad weather: they were planning to shoot outside.

August 23

Drafting and signing a contract so I can use a special font developed by Yabloko [in my campaign materials]: the party is worried about copyright lawsuits.

August 24

Signing a contract to pay for the finished website, running to the St. Petersburg TV channel to hand over the video recorded at the Yabloko office, then to the TEC to hand in all the contracts and the video and audio materials.

By law, I only have to give the commission a cover letter and the campaign material itself, but they’re demanding every single contract for every transaction that went through my campaign account, the acceptance certificates, the payment orders…

A TEC staffer complained that I supposedly criticize them all the time in the media or on social media, even though they’re trying to help me “out of kindness”: “You seem like a smart girl, you should have known about requirements like this.” I’m not even angry. I’m tired of being surprised.

August 25

Videos made for St. Petersburg’s State Duma candidates are being pulled en masse. Almost all the candidates got letters from TV channels saying their videos had been found to contain “extremism” and “discrediting the armed forces.” The St. Petersburg Election Commission sent them similar letters.

My video has different content, and the script is my own. So far, they’re leaving it alone.

August 26

The St. Petersburg TV channel calls and begs me to withdraw the video voluntarily. They say, “It’s not up to us.” Supposedly the St. Petersburg Election Commission sent them a notice to that effect. I didn’t get any letter from the St. Petersburg Election Commission.

VGTRK also sends a letter about pulling it from the air.

We’re shooting a second video. Since the first script was as toothless as possible (on purpose), the only things that could bother them are the party slogan and the call for peace. I’m sitting here crossing the words “peace,” “freedom,” and “life” out of my own script. I feel angry.

The worst part isn’t even that the video got pulled. What bugs me more is that I have no idea who’s making this decision. The TV people say one thing, the St. Petersburg Election Commission says another, and the TEC says nothing at all.

In the evening, the cameraman and I go to Nikolai Rybakov’s meeting with supporters. To be honest, I expected more. A routine speech in an intimate setting.

August 27

Filing a complaint with the Central Election Commission over the St. Petersburg Election Commission pulling my video.

I contact a print shop and realize I haven’t raised enough to print even 5,000 flyers. They cost 14,658 rubles. For a big campaign, that’s probably not a huge amount. But when you’re raising the money yourself, you feel every expense like that. I decide to put 30,000 rubles of my own into the campaign.

August 28, three weeks until the election

Spend half the day writing the text for flyers and posters and send edits to the video editor. At first, I really didn’t like the video at all. It came out more creepy than hopeful, and hopeful is what I wanted despite the censorship. I really want to lift people’s spirits somehow, not make yet another unsettling video.

Heading to a meeting with supporters.

August 30

Finally sorted things out with the print shop (there wasn’t enough money, so in the end I paid for it myself). Going around to the TV companies again — this time to submit the censored video.

August 31

Hi, I’m N.

I report for Meduza from inside Russia. I could go to prison for my work. To stay safe, I have to follow strict security protocols. I know my lawyer’s phone number by heart. And, of course, my articles are published anonymously. 

Working for an independent news outlet while still living in Russia feels like something out of a spy film. My friends know me by one name. My colleagues and sources know me by another. But sometimes there’s a glitch. At a close friend’s birthday party, someone I don’t know reaches out to shake my hand. “Hi, I’m Lyosha.” It takes me a few seconds to decide how to introduce myself. Do I use my real name or my pseudonym? I’m trying to figure out whether this is someone I might one day end up writing about. 

What I do is journalism in exile, even though I’m not in exile myself. I have the rare opportunity to do uncensored, on-the-ground reporting in Russia. Please support Meduza so I can continue this work.

September 1

Handing in the new video and an audio recording for radio to the TEC. Broadcasting starts tomorrow.

September 2

In the end, none of my video or audio materials were allowed on the air.

Going to the TEC again — they called me in to discuss the design of the campaign boards. The commission chair says three more donations were made in violation of the rules (I didn’t find any violations), so the money went to the state. And apparently I’m also supposed to reimburse the donors for those amounts. The law doesn’t say a word about this. I guess I’m supposed to do it out of my own pocket.

At the TEC, they say “the prosecutor’s office has taken an interest” in me. The best part is that all these transfers were made in accordance with the law.

I’m really nervous. I reread the law the TEC cited. It finally sinks in that they’re just trying to slow me down and keep me from running my campaign in peace. There’s very little time left as it is.

September 3

Get a reply from the St. Petersburg Election Commission saying they have nothing to do with my video and audio materials being kept off the air and that I need to go to the TEC (DEC). Then I don’t understand why the TV channels are telling me something else.

Get a letter from VGTRK saying my new video contains “extremism.” The channel’s management cites a demand to that effect from the St. Petersburg Election Commission.

It hurts that the new video won’t air either. So I’ll post it myself.

September 4, two weeks until the election

We’re setting up a group chat for volunteers. Going to the TEC again with booklets and all the contracts, which I spend a couple of hours filling out, copying, and signing every time before I submit them. Writing posts to explain the situation to my supporters.

September 5

Brought my flyers to Yabloko’s headquarters.

September 6

Brought flyers to supporters, and we’re also looking for volunteers. We don’t have enough people, though I’m grateful to every single one. The same day, we start canvassing neighborhoods.

September 7

I’m officially invited to take part in a debate. I meet with my opponents, and we discuss safety: three of the participants, including me, have already faced attempts to get them removed from the ballot.

The conversation was surprisingly constructive, even though our main rival [United Russia candidate Alexei Kulkov] refused to take part in the debate. After all the trouble with commissions and paperwork, it’s nice to just have a normal conversation with other candidates.

Today’s my birthday. I’d like to keep at least the evening for myself.

September 8, ten days until the election

In the morning I get a bunch of calls. Turns out they’re from the prosecutor’s office. There’s a letter from them in my inbox too, dated September 7. Very ironic — thanks for the present. The letter came in the afternoon and went to spam, but I’m supposed to show up today at 5:00 p.m. I answered the call at four.

At the prosecutor’s office, they spoke to me politely and calmly. The staffer who took down my statement listened carefully and, as far as I could see, wrote down what I said without distorting it.

I came away feeling that even they didn’t fully understand why my video counted as a violation. The staffer saw it for the first time herself during our conversation and called the words in the video “prophetic.”

They gave me an official warning and told me to be more careful. They said several times that they were “forced” to issue the warning. Naturally, they didn’t open any case, because there’s nothing to open one over.

At first the whole situation scared me, but then the fear gave way to calm: I’m not the first person in Yabloko summoned to the prosecutor’s office over a video. After that, I mostly found the whole thing funny because it was so surreal.

It also turns out someone reported me for missing the deadline for submitting campaign materials. Supposedly I brought the video to the commission after it had already been distributed.

September 9

Media requests are coming in: Bumaga, SOTA Vision. Campaigning in my district.

In the evening, I go to Yabloko’s headquarters, sign papers related to election monitoring, and bring the flyers that were missing. Recruiting observers is hard: people whose official residence is outside a candidate’s district can’t serve as observers anymore.

By the way, nobody told me the flyers had run out until I asked. I don’t really get why people at Yabloko keep blowing me off. Is that normal for them, or am I just the lucky one?

Coming home, designing posters.

September 10

Handing out flyers in my district. There was a horrible downpour, and only one other person showed up besides me.

The Central Election Commission sent a brush-off reply saying it found no fault with the St. Petersburg Election Commission for pulling my video off the air. It took the Central Election Commission two weeks to answer.

September 11

Groundhog Day. I get up and head out to the district. Campaign, get home by 11:00 p.m. Almost every day looks the same now, and I can physically feel the exhaustion piling up.

In the afternoon, I was messaging with the print shop. There’s not much time left, and the posters still aren’t ready. I’m worried I’m some kind of “half-candidate.”

September 12

Picking up the posters and going straight to the TEC to submit the campaign materials. Then to the district to campaign.

September 13, five days until the election

Before, I felt like I was mostly carrying the campaign on my own. And then suddenly people showed up — on their own, too. It’s probably the first time in the whole campaign I felt like this matters to someone besides me. I’m really tired, but after that it got a little easier.

Actually, I got really lucky with my district — in terms of how people react. Everyone’s pretty positive about me as a candidate and about the party I’m running with. Although today, for the first time in the whole campaign, we met people who were “not going to” talk to Yabloko.

Writing a post about how we campaign. Asking people to help.

September 14, four days until the election

Still campaigning. The flyers ran out — turns out 5,000 isn’t that many. Urgently writing to the print shop. Panicking a little over how much there is to get done.

September 15, three days until the election

Waiting for my flyers. Going to the district. Waiting for my flyers. Going to the TEC. Going to the district.

Going to Nikolai Rybakov’s meeting with supporters. Out of nowhere, they handed me the mic. They had introduced the candidates at the start, but I was late, so I decided to use the chance to introduce myself and ask people to help me. They handed me the mic so suddenly that I didn’t really know what I was saying. There were a thousand people in the room, and the stress was awful. Surprisingly, the appeal worked — quite a lot of people came up to me after the meeting.

Physically, I feel terrible. I haven’t eaten properly in more than a week. I can feel myself starting to get sick from the stress.

September 16, two days until the election

The debate is today. The first one of my life.

Honestly, it didn’t go very well for me. I was nervous. Sometimes I didn’t manage to say what I wanted; other times I could have answered better. But just taking part matters. At least now I know what a live debate is like and what I need to do differently next time.

The main topics were the environment, transportation, urban development, and how the campaign was going. It was more like a discussion than a debate. I got lost amid my opponents’ loud slogans. On top of that, I’d felt awful since morning, and the tension before the debate took its toll.

Yuri Kulikov, Yelena Belyaeva, Ivan Changli, and I attended the debate. Mikhail Amosov and Alexei Kulkov didn’t show up.

I think I got sick after the debate. Slept at home for an hour, and I’m back to campaigning. Stopped by Yabloko’s headquarters to drop off a batch of flyers, then brought campaign materials to Yabloko activists in the district. We’re going to hand out flyers and canvass apartment buildings.

The last few weeks of the campaign were almost identical: I get up at 10:00, leave the house at noon, and get back around midnight. I’m physically and emotionally drained, but I keep going anyway.

September 17, one day until the election

Last day of campaigning. I want to sleep for several days straight, but I have to keep going. We need as many people as possible to come out [to campaign] today — we’ll be handing out the last 2,000 flyers.

In the morning, voting members of one of the precinct commissions wrote to me asking for help if something goes wrong. I’m trying to set up a chat for observers, write a post, answer everyone who’s written to me, and get ready to go campaigning, all at the same time.

By now I’m so used to stress that it’s become my normal state. It’s scary, it’s hard, I’m tired, but I still get ready and go. Honestly, I have almost no strength left. But I feel it’s my duty to see the campaign through to the end myself.

Even if I don’t win, I’ve gained a tremendous amount of experience. I had the chance to speak out for peace legally, in times like these. I can do it, and I’m doing it.

September 18, first day of the election

My assistant and I bought water and snacks and went around to our observers and voting commission members so they wouldn’t go hungry. All day I went from one precinct commission to another, talked with commission chairs, and checked on how things were going at polling stations where we don’t have observers.

Something funny: one precinct commission complained that they didn’t have enough gifts for first-time voters. Usually the state provides commissions with those gifts. The chair asked me to “buy them gifts.” He said they’d be very grateful and would tell everyone who voted for me that the gifts were from me: “We’ll be able to see who voted for you, after all.” Is it stupidity or what? I don’t know. Surreal. Maybe United Russia people came by and did that…

Overall, the commission chairs were pretty polite with me. They all said turnout at their polling stations was about 30%.

September 19, second day of the election

Still making the rounds of precinct commissions. The Communist Party got in touch — we’re trading news. Lots of their observers weren’t allowed in. Mine, thankfully, were.

September 20, last day of the election

At one precinct commission, the chair (a participant in the “special military operation”) clashed with one of my observers. She was accused of talking to a voter — according to her, she said hi to her mom, who had come to vote. The observer was given a warning.

At another precinct commission, something strange happened. My observer stepped out during the vote count — as she said later, she felt unwell. One of the voting commission members later told me that the ballots were swapped at that moment. It’s hard to verify.

I ask commission chairs about turnout, and they give roughly the same figure: 50–60% over the three days.

Really tired. Late in the evening, I stopped by Yabloko’s headquarters on Shpalernaya Street and talked with other candidates.

Around 3:00 a.m., an acquaintance from one precinct commission sent me the tally sheet with the preliminary results for the precinct. The result was disappointing, of course. I was in second-to-last place, with just over 30 votes. The United Russia candidate [Alexei Kulkov], who didn’t campaign at all, had around 150. And [incumbent deputy] Amosov had around 300.

September 21, results

According to preliminary data, I came in last. Considering that at almost every polling station I visited, another 400 votes appeared after voting ended, I’m not surprised. At one precinct commission, they told me I originally had 90-something votes, and then they falsified the count down to 40-something. According to preliminary data, the United Russia candidate came in second and Amosov first.

Above all, what mattered to me in this campaign was speaking up for peace — and showing people they’re not alone. This whole time, my team and I were able to talk with people about their real problems. Having the chance to speak out is very important to us.