‘Like an insect in an enclosed space’ Meduza’s readers on why they’re staying in Russia amid the Kremlin’s new crackdown on draft evasion
On April 14, Vladimir Putin signed a law that allows the Russian military to issue draft summonses electronically, closes the country’s borders to draftees who don’t report for service, and deprives “draft evaders” of numerous rights. Unlike the president’s mobilization announcement in September, the new legislation didn’t provoke an especially strong reaction inside Russia, and there’s no sign that draft-eligible citizens are leaving the country en masse. Meduza asked our readers who plan to stay in Russia to explain how they feel about the new policies — and why they’re not convinced they need to go abroad. We’re publishing some of the most notable responses below.
A lot of people left Russia after the start of the full-scale war in Ukraine. Why did you decide to stay?
Lev, Perm
About a year ago, my mom was diagnosed with stage IV cancer. I need to stay by her side. And I’m afraid of losing her. Other than me, she doesn’t have anybody.
Alexander, Tula
I consider it wrong to flee, since this is my country, where my friends and loved ones live. This is where my work is, and it’s the place I’ve tied my fate to. I’ve chosen the option of fighting for my life in this country.
Natalia, Vladimir region
I have three children, two of whom are in school. The only person who works is my husband, and his job isn’t one that could be done remotely. And there’s the fear, of course: what would we do there [abroad]?
Denis, Ivanovo
I have elderly parents, both of whom are over 80 years old. I can’t abandon them, and there’s no feasible way to take them abroad.
Alina, Ufa
My family [Editor’s note: Alina’s mother and two younger brothers] doesn’t have the money we would need to leave [Russia] and live a relatively comfortable life when we get there. I’ll most likely be in Russia forever, so I’m doing what little I can. I’m taking responsibility for the small world that my hands can reach. I donate to human rights organizations, talk to my mom’s kids (who will still have to live in the future world, after all), talk to the people around me, share alternative information, and help my loved ones skip the events imposed on them (my younger brothers, for example, don’t go to patriotism lessons).
Mikhail, Irbit, Sverdlovsk region
At the moment [when the war started, I] was a minor, so obviously I wasn’t able to leave the country. Without education or money, I feel trapped — and there’s just no escape.
Alexander, Kemerovo
I’m a student. I’m finishing my final year in my university’s journalism department (don’t laugh), and I want to enroll in a master’s program. I like being a student, but the master’s degree would just be a way to prolong my protection from the government. I don’t have the money to just move somewhere on a whim. So far, the threats from the state haven’t affected me yet. Even if I get stuck [in Russia], I have no plans to join the army: better to live in a Siberian forest or in a basement. And if they come for me, I’ll be ready.
Lev, St. Petersburg
It’s not so easy to just get up and go. On one hand, I have a lot of friends in Europe, and I speak two languages fluently. But on the other hand, there’s currently no direct threat to my life, and in some ways, it’s easier to keep living in the place I’m used to. Where would I go? Just into the void? If I get a knock at my door, I’ll probably leave immediately. I just hope it won’t be too late.
Vladimir, St. Petersburg
I’m a doctor by training. I could leave, of course, but that would require several years of preparation, even in a calm, international setting. Although I am taking steps towards possibly moving — I’ve gotten a job as a medical advisor in a large Western company that hasn’t left the Russian market. I opened a bank account abroad. I’m studying Spanish, in addition to my decent knowledge of English.
Olga, St. Petersburg
My reason is boring: I don’t have a foreign passport. My husband and I started applying for them in March 2023. It’s going to take even more time than usual, because we’re not applying from our registered place of residence.
Erik, Moscow
I don’t believe the odds of my getting drafted are particularly high, though they’re not zero. I could go to Armenia, where I have relatives, but without a job, I can’t imagine how I would support a small child after my money runs out. My work is very specific (I’m a medical examiner), so I would be able to work in my field there. My workplace has promised to give me an exemption if I get drafted.
Alexander, Lipetsk
I’m one of the people who sat in traffic at Verkhny Lars [at the Russia-Georgia border] in September [2022]. We spent four months living in Batumi, and we returned home over the New Year’s holidays. My wife had exams in January [2023]. We ultimately decided to stay, because nothing can replace home.
Andrey, Moscow
This might sound funny to some, but I have an elderly cat, and I really love him. He has a hard time even on short taxi rides, to say nothing of air travel or a train. I don’t have anybody to leave him with, and I don’t want to leave without him. There’s another reason, too: my profession isn’t one that’s in demand abroad, and it wouldn’t let me feel confident from a financial perspective. But the cat, of course, is more important.
Alexey, St. Petersburg
Leaving Russia isn’t possible for me. I’ve previously served in the Russian Armed Forces, and I have security clearance to access state secrets. So I’m banned from going abroad.
Semyon, city not indicated
[I’m not leaving] because Russia is my motherland and my country.
Evgeny, Moscow
I’m not leaving because I love Russia very much. I know perfectly well the level of opportunity and comfort that would await me in the other cities that I could “easily” relocate to (in Georgia, Turkey, and Kazakhstan, for example). Moscow is the best city on earth, all joking aside. It’s very scary for me to stay, but the prospect of starting my entire life over is even scarier. And on top of that, I don’t want to lose my connections to my friends. Some of them have left for countries all over the world, but in the countries that are accessible to me, I would have a lot fewer friends than I do here.
Simona, St. Petersburg
I don’t want to leave and abandon my family. Even though my husband is a citizen of a European country, getting a residence permit based on our marriage there would be practically impossible — the financial requirements are too stringent. Moreover, my husband likes it here: back at home, he had to live off of benefits, but in Russia, he’s a sought-after specialist. And he’s really taken a liking to the country.
How do you feel about the idea that it’s time to leave Russia?
Alexey, St. Petersburg
[I feel] the same way I do about advice like “Just be rich.”
Vladimir, Moscow
I have nowhere to go. No money for travel. I have a family with kids, I’m 46 years old. I’m just hoping I find a way to hide.
Anton, Moscow
It depletes my energy and makes me lose heart. And I need my energy here. I’ve stopped listening to a lot of [streamers]. The only ones left are [Alexey] Venediktov, [Ekaterina] Shulman, and my beloved Meduza, which is getting increasingly difficult [emotionally] to read.
Vitaly, Moscow
Initially, [I felt] fine [about that advice], even positively, but now it’s begun to strike me as pointless. Everyone who wanted to leave and could has already done so. For everyone else — the people who would like to leave but can’t — it doesn’t help, and it’s more likely to make them feel worse.
Alexey, city not given
To leave is to give up your position. I’m more useful here; I can donate and volunteer. I don’t blame people who have left: everyone is guided by their own circumstances. But the squabbling, society’s inability to unite and support one another, is depressing.
Mikhail, Irbit
[My view of that idea] is extremely positive. I’m sincerely happy for people who have managed to leave this hopeless place and begun living full lives, rather than living in fear.
Galina, St. Petersburg
I have children, grandchildren — where am I supposed to go at 57 years old? I won’t have a pension [there], and working will just get harder. It’s difficult to start from zero at my age.
Dementy, Domodedovo
The life of an immigrant who, say, washes dishes isn’t exactly a safe one. Here, I know what to be afraid of — the military conscription office. There, I would be an immigrant, vulnerable from all sides. If you can take a suitcase full of money, that changes everything. But I don’t have a suitcase like that. My departure wouldn’t help Ukraine, nor would it hasten the fall of the [Putin] regime. The idea that you should cut off your nose to spite Putin isn’t one that resonates with me.
Alexandra, Krasnodar
[I view that advice] with sadness and understanding. Sometimes I get really angry: I want to live without fear, but they would come for me because of my anti-war beliefs or my [sexual] orientation. It’s obvious that they’re going to start coming for everybody. But I don’t have the money to leave and bring my girlfriend and my elderly mother with me, nor is there any guarantee that we would make it there [abroad]. I’m helping Ukrainian refugees, and I believe that’s the right thing to do.
How do you feel about Russia’s new legislation on electronic military summonses and the suspension of rights for draft dodgers? Has it affected your plans for the future?
Nikolai, Vladivostok
It’s sent me into depression, into an existential crisis. I feel like an insect in an enclosed space. And there’s a child playing [with the insect] and trying to crush it, catch it, or throw it out. I feel defenseless.
Ekaterina, Moscow
[The legalization of electronic summonses] has definitely affected me. I understand that by continuing to live in Russia, I’m living in an illusion. We’re under a dome of restrictions that doesn’t exist almost anywhere else. And with these “innovations,” the prospect of starting over in a different country is starting to sound less and less scary every day.
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Airon, St. Petersburg
I have a negative view [of the new laws], and of course it’s affected [my plans]. Now I’ll have to work in the “gray” [informal] economy. I live in apartments, but I’m registered in another region. I hope they won’t find me.
Olga, St. Petersburg
I’m not happy [about the news]. I wasn’t especially calm even before, but now my anxiety has reached a new level. It’s affected my plans — now I’m leaning towards leaving.
Dementy, Domodedovo
This is apartheid. With no trial, some officer designates you to be cannon fodder, a second class citizen. For me, the situation is unacceptable. I plan to wait out the hot phase, when they declare [a new wave of] mobilization, in a different country.
Lev, St. Petersburg
It’s certainly very disheartening. And while it doesn’t affect me directly right now (I’m over 35 and have no history with the army), I can’t imagine how it feels to be someone age 18–30 who was supposed to graduate from an institute and start living independently. Today they’ve implemented electronic summonses, tomorrow they’ll come up with some new tax on the special military operation.
Artem, Moscow
I work in the IT sector, and if you disregard the savagery of it, then it’s a perfectly logical law — storing information about all conscripts in an electronic form. The restrictions they’re putting on citizens go against both common sense and the Constitution. This law won’t affect [me] at all — if I get a summons, I just won’t go to the enlistment office. I don’t have a car, I have a home that I don’t want to sell, and I don’t plan to become a small business owner or a freelancer. The only thing that bothers me is that I won’t be able to go abroad. I guess it’s time to buy a tent and go to the Altai.
Natalia, Vladimir region
It’s awful. But my husband and I decided that in the worst case scenario, we’ll have a fourth child. That’s supposedly a way to avoid mobilization.
Konstantin, Moscow
If possible, it’s time to leave. The prospect of “waiting it out” is looking increasingly futile. It’s feeling more and more like Putin will go all the way, sending the entire male population to their deaths, ruining the economy, and definitively turning the country into North Korea. But he won’t give up his power and he won’t back down.
Do you have a long-term plan? Are you thinking of leaving Russia?
Nikolai, Vladivostok
I’ve stopped making long-term plans altogether. After the start of the war, my longest plans were for two or three months into the future. Then my planning fell to a month at a time. Given the new laws, I’m only planning a few days at a time.
Alexander, Moscow
I understand that if, during the two years that I have left [in university], the situation gets even worse (for example, if they start mobilizing students), then I’ll have to drop everything and save my own life. I have no intention of dying for Putin and his stupid ambitions. For now, I plan to finish my studies and get ready to leave. I never want to live in this country again.
Mitya, Russian-annexed Crimea
I bought enough groceries for a year, I shut my phone off a long time ago, I don’t respond to mail, and I don’t leave my house. I’ll stay with my [elderly] parents until the end. After that, better to go to jail than to kill the Ukrainians who have fed me, taught me, treated me when I’m sick, loved me, and been my friends for my entire life.
Alexey, Kaliningrad
I’m going to apply to have my military service replaced by alternative civilian service. I already underwent alternative service once, in 2012 until 2014, when I worked as a medic in a hospital — and my pacific convictions haven’t gone anywhere. If I’m refused, I’ll limit all of my communications to written correspondence and appeal the rejection in court. Nobody can make me go kill other people; for me, every human life is valuable. If things really get worse, I’ll leave.
Vladimir, Moscow
[I’m planning] on staying as far as possible from officials. Fortunately, I’m not too far from “aging out” of the military.
Maxim, St. Petersburg
I’ll find a way to get through this. I have savings, I don’t have real estate or a car, and I work for myself. In the worst-case scenario, it’s better to go to prison but have a clear conscience. We’re all being held hostage by a crazed monster.
Alexey, St. Petersburg
I’m a former soldier, so I’m banned from leaving, and I don’t know anybody outside of the country. I’ll most likely have to wait it out underground.
Alexander, Kemerovo
My plan is to survive at any cost while also remaining human. For the last year, I’ve lived with an internal timer that counts the days until my graduation from university. After that comes total uncertainty. Whether I’ll enter a master’s program or live off in the wilderness somewhere; whether I’ll have to suddenly relocate to Kazakhstan and get a job in a local cafe; or, in the worst-case scenario, if they forcibly take me to an enlistment office, I don’t know. I have no confidence in tomorrow.
Translation by Sam Breazeale
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