‘You see this line? It’s all Russians.’ In a dispatch from Almaty, Meduza meets Russian citizens flocking to Kazakhstan following Moscow’s invasion of Ukraine

Thousands have left Russia in response to Moscow launching an all-out war against Ukraine. While Turkey, Georgia, and Armenia have been the most popular destinations for émigrés, others fleeing repressions and economic sanctions have found themselves in former Soviet republics, including Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, and Kazakhstan. Kazakh journalist Daniyar Moldabekov spoke to newly-arrived Russians in Almaty about how they chose their path, whether they planned to return to Russia, and how they envision their futures.

‘We all sat there paralyzed’

On the day Russia launched its invasion of Ukraine, 20-year-old theater artist and activist Dmitry Efremov participated in an anti-war protest on Moscow’s Pushkin Square. A month later, he was shoveling the snow around the Tuyuk-Su Alpine Resort in the mountains of Almaty, which is offering shelter to Russians and Ukrainians.

“February 24 was the opening night of our new play. Even as we were getting ready to stage it, I was already thinking of leaving. I was convinced that this would be my last project in Russia,” said Dmitry. “Then the war began. The director of the Voznesensky Center, where we were performing, sat paralyzed — we all sat there, paralyzed. An anti-war rally was scheduled for 7:00 p.m., so we cancelled our second performance and, after the first one, we headed out onto the square with the audience.”

The protest was brief, the police quickly dispersed it. Nearly a thousand people were detained in Moscow the night of February 24. Over the next five days, Dmitry and his friends thought of new forms of self-organization and dissent — the riot police had made street protest seem wholly ineffective.

“And then I had to decide where I’d be more useful,” said the artist. “Locked up in jail for 15 days — which was only a matter of time — or if I continued my resistance but from a distance. I made my choice.”

Even before the war, Dmitry had planned to visit a close friend in Kazakhstan to support her after the country’s protests in January. As it turned out, the artist himself would be the one in need of help. He boarded a flight to Almaty through Novosibirsk on February 28.

“I was received warmly and didn’t run into any trouble about having come from Russia,” says Dmitry. “There are no enemies and no Russophobia if you come to a country having considered and studied its context, pay attention to local customs and the way of life, learn the history, and comport yourself with basic respect toward everybody who lives there. ”

At the moment, Efremov is working on a platform called Resque Forum, aiming to support other people in the arts who have fled Ukraine as well as dissidents from Russia and Belarus. He’s also recording a podcast about what people should do if they want to stop the war immediately. “In Kazakhstan, it’s psychologically easier to work on a project like this,” said Dmitri. “You’re not expecting a knock at the door or a search every morning.”

The artist has spent the last few weeks living in the Tuyuk-Su Resort, which is offering shelter to Russians and Ukrainians.

Artyom Skopin, the resort’s director, tells Meduza that ten people from Russia and Ukraine reached out to him. He’s allowing them to stay free of charge. “We’re extremely upset that the officials have permitted a war to break out and we’re very worried about our friends. Unfortunately, our resources are limited, but in order to somehow help people, we decided to offer to let them stay at our resort,” he said. “For now, [they can stay] until April 25, but we might be able to extend it. And no, we’re not just inviting Russians, we’re here for anyone who has suffered as a result of this conflict.”

‘I had to stand in these lines three times, but otherwise, it was no problem’

It is crowded at the municipal community service center in Almaty and most of the people in line are new arrivals. A staff member admits that she’s never seen this many Russians before. “In the past, most of the foreigners have been Uzbeks. As soon as the new sanctions kicked in, the Russians began to appear,” the woman said, gesturing at the crowd. “You see the line behind you? It’s all Russians.” There were fifteen people inside the room and the line, which was automated, moved fairly quickly.

People had come to the center to get their IIN, an individual identification number issued to every Kazakhstan resident. You need it for opening a bank account, buying real estate, or conducting business.

A little boy walked among the seats while his father sat watching the sign, waiting for his number to be called. The man had come from Moscow. His company had shut down and, like everyone else, he’d come to the service center to get his IIN and open a bank account. He wasn’t sure when he’d return to Russia. “I don’t think regime change will be enough,” he told Meduza. “I have a feeling that the future won’t suddenly get bright once all this is over. There’ll need to be some kind of reconstruction process.”

Next in line is a Belarusian. “I came here March 1. I like it here, the people are friendly, there’s a certain Eastern hospitality. You know, I have many friends who are in Georgia and Poland right now. They’re facing some negativity towards them, whereas here, I haven’t run into that once. My brother, who's in Bulgaria right now, ordered a pizza and the delivery driver flipped him off. Belarusian cars are getting keyed. Belarusian territory is being used to wage hostilities against Ukraine so people are expressing their feelings like that.”

Two residents of Yakutsk said that they’re comfortable in Almaty — they said the cities have “similar mentalities.” “We want to continue running our business from here,” one of them said.

At the door, a man in his forties explained that the firm where he worked in Kazan had ceased operations in Russia. Employees were offered relocation to Kazakhstan. “I got my number here,” he said. “I had to stand in these lines three times, but otherwise, it was no problem.”

A migration of hands and brains

On March 5, Forbes Kazakhstan published an article called, “A migration of hands and brains: Russian specialists prepare for a mass exodus to Kazakhstan.”

“First and foremost, these are IT professionals. But specialists from many fields are beginning to eye our labor market and weigh their options in case their industry in the Russian Federation suffers,” Oleg Parahin, a human resources entrepreneur, told Forbes. “It’s worth mentioning that, in terms of relocation, other post-Soviet countries are being considered, too, since they are also comfortable in terms of the mentality and the language. However, according to people I’ve spoken with, Kazakhstan looks particularly appealing.”

“I moved to Almaty because it was cheaper to fly here than Istanbul, because there’s a visa-free regime, and because I already knew people here,” said Anton (whose name has been changed), an IT analyst. He wrote an anti-war post on social media following the start of the “special operation” that attracted police attention. Anton was issued a warning stating that “breaking the law was unacceptable”.

“Until 2021, I had not seen any critical problems with the Kremlin, although there were certain aspects of its policies I was unhappy with. The fact that there was no turnover of power, a lack of parliamentary debate, persistent propaganda,” Anton said. “Then, as I saw it, the repressions got worse. Sergey Zuyev was detained despite his poor health, the Memorial Society got shut down. Now, of course, I'm against the shuttering of many media outlets, and Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter. I’m against censorship, against military activity on Ukrainian territory.”

Olga (name changed) hadn’t left Russia yet, but her son, a college student, had already made his way to Kazakhstan. She plans to do the same in the near future. They'd both been fined for participating in an anti-war protest in Moscow. Before the war, Olga had worked in marketing for international brands, but sanctions and the departure of the companies from Russia have made it impossible for her to continue her work. “I realize that with my views and ethical position, staying here is impossible,” she explained. “On top of that, I believe that things are going to get so bad here, I don't see chance of being able to keep doing what I love.”

Olga doesn’t believe in the autarky that Russian authorities often speak of. “I'm very aware of the extent to which the Russian economy depends on international shipments. We don't have computer chips, our planes are foreign-made, our turbines are imported… Even if everyone tries their very best to pursue import substitution, it will take a long time to get off the ground.”

Creative professionals are also heading to Kazakhstan. Dauren Tyuleev, a co-founder of House on Baribayeva, 36 — a popular art space in Kazakhstan’s largest city — reveals that he recently met with several people from Moscow and St. Petersburg who had just come to Almaty.

“They reach out to us with questions ranging from where they should live to professional ones like where to find work, how to fit in, how to make themselves useful to local communities,” Tyuleev said. “These are photographers, artists, designers, creative entrepreneurs. Our residents help them adapt, build connections, and make contacts. We will soon see the results of the first collaborations [between locals and Russian emigres].”

Comedian Anastasia (who asked to keep her last name confidential) often attended protests while living in Russia, including ones against the war. But when a revolution failed to take place, she understood that “there was no upward trend” and booked a flight to Almaty. “Nothing much was changing in my circle,” she said. “More people hadn’t started coming out to the demonstrations. I didn’t think anything would change in our country. I felt pain and fear.”

Anastasia is twenty-two. She was born and grew up under Vladimir Putin’s rule and never knew a different leader. Despite the violently repressed protests in Kazakhstan that took place in January, Anastasia got the sense that this would be a freer place than Russia. When war broke out in Ukraine and Russia effectively instituted wartime censorship, Anastasia was further convinced that here, far away from St. Petersburg, she would feel more at ease. “I’m being deprived of my freedom of speech, which is difficult,” she said. “After the start of the invasion I couldn’t go on. I was tired of being unfree and of being silent.”

For Anastasia, Almaty is a place where she can continue to pursue artistic endeavors. “I like how the entertainment industry is evolving here. I’ve been following the work of a few Kazakh people like videographer Aisultan Seitov. I like Irina Kairatovna. I went to see them play in St. Petersburg literally two days before the war started,” she said.

Arsen also came to Almaty in the wake of the invasion. He was born and raised in Orsk, in the Orenburg region. After graduating as a “teaching choreographer” from the Chelyabinsk State Academy of Culture and Arts, he began working at a ballet in Moscow. “Then, I got invited to dance in Israel. I lived in Jerusalem for two years. Afterwards, I returned to Russia,” said Arsen.

His parents had moved to Kazakhstan ten years ago, through a repatriation program for ethnic Kazakhs. Their son followed in their footsteps after the war began.

“I felt guilty, like I was the one who’d invaded Ukraine and not Putin,” said Arsen. “I have many friends in Ukraine. I have no illusions — this is no ‘special operation,’ they’re bombing peaceful civilians.”

“I’ve stayed in three Kazakh cities: Astana, Aktobe, and Almaty. Right now, I’m in Almaty. This city is more European, judging by its people, the way they look at you, the way they dress,” said Arsen. “I like the teenagers’ eyes, I like how they speak to each other. I don’t see any heaviness in their eyes, just youthful naiveté. One of them told me he was going to build a time machine. But, most importantly, it’s the nature here: the mountains that fill you with energy.”

Lyaisan is 20. She’s “from a small Russian city, raised in a simple and incomplete family.” Prior to the invasion, she had been accepted to a Western university and had been planning to leave for school the following year. Since February 27, Lyaisan had been talking to her parents about coming back to Almaty and staying a while. She had been planning to anyway — she needed to go to Kazakhstan to get a visa for studying abroad. Her parents were supportive but thought her departure premature. But then, on the evening of March 2, when Russian authorities began talking about instituting martial law, Lyaisan boarded a flight out of the country.

“I started seeing the messages in my Telegram channels, and 15 minutes later, I was on my way to the airport, reading an article about interrogations at the border,” she said. “Now my friends and colleagues are critical of how emotional and impulsive I was. They’re right. And I’m happy they’re right. I’m also happy that I didn’t entrust my life to them. I can’t imagine what me and my family would be feeling right now and what my friends and colleagues would say if I got trapped behind closed borders with no education.”

She chose Kazakhstan out of a feeling of cultural proximity. “I’m a Tatar,” she said.

In a foreign country, Lyaisan feels “out of place, impoverished, and deceived.” For her, moving to Kazakhstan, studying abroad, and working far away from home are all temporary. “I can’t imagine my life without Tatarstan, without working towards creating the Russia of the future," said Lyaisan. “The UN’s Goal 4 — ‘quality education for all’ — is a meaningful resolution. I may be an idealist and a romantic, but I think it’s much more grounded and realistic to think ‘Who if not us?’.”

‘Russians are treated just fine in Almaty’

Arriving Russians are welcomed in Kazakhstan. In general, locals are happy to answer questions, assist with finding shelter, and are, on the whole, understanding. One issue remains: should Russians leaving Putin’s regime be considered refugees? Could their migration hurt Kazakhstan?

Rustam Burnashev, a professor at the Kazakh-German University in Almaty and an expert on Central Asian security, told Meduza that there should be no problems as long as the migration remains legal and regulated.

“First off, migration from Russia is happening under the aegis of the Eurasian Economic Union, which is set up to make labor migration seamless. This means it’s unlikely that illegal or unregulated migration would happen,” he said. “Second of all, the people leaving Russia today might be seen as political emigres — people who are critical of the Kremlin and its actions.”

Beybarys Tolymbekov, the owner of a darkroom called Gornaya Lab, says that foreigners often visit the store, though in the past, they were mostly Europeans. In recent days, he has seen a lot more Russians.

“There didn’t used to be that many of them. Now there’s more, some of them, fairly well-off. Both young and old ,” said Tolymbekov. He said he was not against Russians coming to Kazakhstan, but he didn’t think they needed assistance. “They are not refugees. They are not fleeing war or discrimination, so I wouldn’t call them political asylum seekers, either. If I were a Russian citizen, I wouldn’t choose Kazakhstan, because our country is more like a partner to Russia. Our governments have a good relationship. If it came down to it, our country would extradite all of them back to Russia,” he said.

Anton, an IT analyst, has been in Kazakhstan for nearly a month. “Russians are treated just fine in Almaty, everybody speaks Russian, there are no problems,” he said.

In his opinion, those who wanted to leave Russia had been “afraid to go to Kazakhstan at first, since it seems like Kazakhstan supports Russia on political matters. From the beginning, Tokayev declared neutrality. I’m certain that Kazakhstan will remain neutral, since participating in the conflict would come at great costs because of the sanctions and the prospect of internal unrest. There shouldn’t be any problems within Kazakhstan because of the war.”

Nowadays, so-called Russophobia is an additional concern for Russians emigrating abroad. You'll hear the occasional story like this in Almaty. “One night, I was walking to the grocery store. Five or six guys whistled at a Russian, asking him, ‘Are you Russian? From Russia?’ He replied, [in Kazakh], ‘No, I’m a Kazakh.’ So they left him alone.” But stories like that are rare. The country remains one of the few where people are still friendly toward Russians. Many residents of Kazakhstan maintain close ties with Russia.

Sergey, the administrator of a chat group about relocation to Kazakhstan, said that he had always enjoyed helping people and had done similar work when he lived in Russia. “When I was living in St. Petersburg, my friends and I created St. Petersburg’s Kind Heart, a volunteer project aiding children, veterans, and the disabled. I volunteered there almost up to the time that it closed,” he said. “When I moved back to Kazakhstan, I joined the Shymkent Fellows. We also helped people in need.” Now Sergei answers migrants’ questions.

“I have a lot of experience moving between our countries. Last year I moved my wife, a Russian from Crimea, to Kazakhstan, so I’m quite familiar with the finer details of immigrating from there,” said Sergey. He married his wife in Kazakhstan because she had said that she wanted to get citizenship here. “She doesn’t want to be associated with Russia anymore. I think back to when I myself wanted to change my citizenship — I was thinking of staying in St. Petersburg after finishing college, but something inside me told me that it was unwise. Twelve years of living in Russia only reinforced my initial doubts.”

Sergey is convinced that he won’t return to Russia ever again, but maintains that there’s always a way to help other people, regardless of citizenship. “In these difficult times, it’s extremely important to remember that we have each other.”

The admins of the relocation chat say that they often have to block users for trolling.

“In the first weeks we were up and running, there were people who would appear in the chat, most of the time, after midnight, who’d tell the Russians they had to behave themselves here in Kazakhstan,” says one of the admins. “Sometimes our nationalists will show up and post about how Russians are not welcome here, insult people. Sometimes, fake accounts will send around links to dead groups on Telegram. Maybe it’s an attempt to see who will click through. We delete this kind of stuff on sight.”

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Most of the Russians who've come to Kazakhstan don’t plan on returning in the foreseeable future. Anastasia and Olga were adamant that they will only go back to Russia once the political regime changes. Others struggled to give an exact answer but thought their return would be months or years away.

With this in mind, some were already starting to study Kazakh. Olga was surprised to be asked why. “What else would I do? I came to a country with its own language; this country took me in. It’s not even a practical matter — it’s a matter of respect.”