Skip to main content
Dmitry Skurikhin in the summer of 2024
stories

Russian activist Dmitry Skurikhin, once a popular local politician, returns to cold welcome from neighbors after serving time for anti-war posters

Dmitry Skurikhin in the summer of 2024
Dmitry Skurikhin in the summer of 2024

Dmitry Skurikhin has been painting political slogans on the front of his shopping center for over a decade. It wasn’t until 2022, however, that his protests made international headlines: shortly after Moscow launched its full-scale war against Ukraine, Skurikhin listed Ukrainian cities shelled by Russian troops in large letters on the side of his building. He continued this strategy until February 2023, when he was arrested and sentenced to 1.5 years in prison for “discrediting” the Russian army. In July 2024, the business owner completed his sentence and returned home, where he found many of his neighbors ambivalent about his fate. Even so, he still has hope that he can change some of his fellow villagers’ views. For the independent outlet Novaya Vkladka, journalist Danila Istomin visited Skurikhin’s home village to speak to residents about the storefront protests. Meduza shares an abridged translation of his report.

‘Navalny is funded by America’

“I didn’t know Skurikhin went to prison,” says a young woman working at a convenience store in the village of Russko-Vysotskoye. When I tell her the details of the activist’s arrest, she says the authorities were right to prosecute him.

“We have a freely elected leader. If you don’t like living in Russia, leave. Me, I voted for our current president in the last election,” she explains.

Russko-Vysotskoye, with a population of about 5,000, is about 30 kilometers (19 miles) from St. Petersburg. As I walk down one of the leaf-strewn streets, I see children riding their bikes and running around the playgrounds next to every third or fourth apartment building. One boy is wearing shorts with the pro-war “Z” symbol on them.

A woman who looks to be about 30 walks by with her child. When I ask her about Skurikhin, she looks at me cautiously.

“Well, what can I say? He’s a decent person,” she says, before pausing for a moment. “Some people are afraid to express their opinions and keep silent like cowards, but he’s not afraid, even though he does it in such an expressive manner. A lot of people actually agree with him.”

A look back at 2022

‘My neighbors fully support me’ The Russian man using the front of his shop to protest against the war

A look back at 2022

‘My neighbors fully support me’ The Russian man using the front of his shop to protest against the war

In the village center, I meet an elderly woman who says she knows Skurikhin well.

“His mother worked in the village administration. Those buildings over there are his,” she says, pointing to a two-story building with a one-story extension. “He rents part of it out. [It's on this building that he wrote:] ‘We’re for peace.’ Well, you know what, we’re also for peace! But there [in Ukraine], you see, there’s a large Russian-speaking population. And the Ukes are oppressing the Russian-speakers.”

The woman clicks her tongue before adding: “Why did he support that Navalny? Navalny’s funded by America!” Like the convenience store cashier, she’s surprised to learn that Skurikhin has been released from prison.

Skurikhin’s sign reading ‘Freedom for Navalny’

The building the elderly woman is referring to is a small shopping center that houses several different stores and businesses. Skurikhin first began putting messages on the building’s facade in 2014; over the last decade, he’s put up slogans against election fraud, messages in support of Navalny and other political prisoners, and other phrases addressing sensitive political topics in Russia. One, for example, read, “We need to beat Putinism and Stalinism in the country,” while another said, “Protect journalists and media freedom — they’re your eyes and ears.”

Skurikhin painted his first anti-war message, which read “Peace to Ukraine,” in 2014. In June 2023, when he wrote the same slogan along with with the names of Ukrainian cities targeted by Russian forces, someone quickly painted over it. Local officials had advised Skurikhin to take down the message the previous day, but he refused.

As I walk with Skurikhin through the village, he recounts how he and the deputy head of the village administration, who he believes facilitated the message’s removal, went to school together.

“Alexey Byrdin is the same age as me. He was a good student in school, always a leader. We never spoke much. He supports United Russia, so ideologically speaking, he’s my enemy. He broke up one of my rallies, and he has a ‘Z’ sticker on the back windshield of his car,” Skurikhin explains.

Despite their opposing views, however, Skurikhin says he respects the official: “He’s done a lot for the village. Thanks to his efforts, living standards here have gone up: we’ve gotten new playgrounds, new public spaces, and new apartment buildings.”

Sign up for Meduza’s daily newsletter

A digest of Russia’s investigative reports and news analysis. If it matters, we summarize it.

Protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

Nobody will remember anything’

Dmitry Skurikhin has lived in the village of Ropsha since 2008, but he considers Russko-Vysotskoye, where he was born, to be his home; it’s where he works and where his daughters go to school.

Skurikhin was released from prison in late July 2024, and his neighbors’ reactions to his return have been mixed. Some people have hugged him, he says, while others have avoided his gaze and pretended not to see him. A drunk man, presumably a former prisoner, whom Skurikhin encountered in front of his shopping center, called the activist “one of us now.”

“I’d estimate that half of the village supports me and half doesn’t,” Skurikhin says. “And the first half will never say anything about their support. To support this kind of sedition publicly is to place oneself outside of the law.”

Still, there are some villagers who support Skurikhin and don’t hide their views. One of them is 65-year-old Natalia Bakaldina. She recalls how, when Skurikhin was on the parent committee at a local school, he always ensured quality food was being served in the cafeteria. “He would go there and take samples of the food. Now my child won’t eat the food at school — he says it’s not good,” Bakaldina tells me. She adds that for years, Skurikhin has organized regular meetings for citizens to discuss the problems in Russko-Vysotskoye. “He’s always tried to be fair — and that’s his problem,” Bakaldina says.

Monthly newsletter

Sign up for The Beet

Underreported stories. Fresh perspectives. From Budapest to Bishkek.

In 2009, Skurikhin was elected to the Russko-Vysotskoye municipal council as an independent candidate, beating the candidate from the ruling United Russia party by 10–20 votes.

He recalls how later, in the 2010s, he organized a rally calling for repairs to the village’s main street, which was in poor condition. About 160 people showed up, and a month later, the road was fixed. In 2011–2012, according to Skurikhin, the village had problems with heating, and he tried to address them by writing complaints to the police and the prosecutor’s office. When this proved ineffective, he arranged a meeting between residents and representatives of the company providing the village’s heat. A new boiler room was built soon after, and Skurikhin says his neighbors repeatedly thanked him for solving the issue.

“But now, nobody will remember or say anything,” Skurikhin says. “And that’s characteristic of our society.” Indeed, many of the people I speak to in Russko-Vysotskoye say they don’t remember Skurikhin addressing any of the village’s problems.

Skurikhin’s rooftop inscription reading ‘I need peace’

‘He just chose the wrong time’

There are almost no customers at the Russko-Vysotskoye market on Sunday, but the woman sitting at a booth selling sweets is still reluctant to speak. When I ask about the quality of life in the village, however, she decides to weigh in. “Nothing changed in our village when Skurikhin was a municipal deputy,” she says coldly, though she admits that nothing has improved under his successors either.

A woman selling tobacco products says she used to rent a unit in Skurikhin’s building, but she wasn’t aware he’d been released from prison. “If you hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have found out. Skurikhin didn’t do anything for the village — he just does those political activities. All he does is paint that stuff for the Ukes,” the woman says, referring to the slogans on Skurikhin’s shopping center.

“I don’t know anything about Skurikhin and I don’t think about him, [except for the fact that] he’s got a store next door,” a woman selling fish says. When asked whether he addressed any of the village’s problems while in office, she starts listing Russko-Vysotskoye’s ongoing infrastructure issues: “There are long wait times between buses. The water gets shut off without warning. And we hardly have any activities for kids.”

Out of all the people I see passing by outside the market, only one young man agrees to speak. “Our generation doesn’t pay much attention to messages written on storefronts. It’s Skurikhin’s right to express his opinion,” he says. “He just chose the wrong time.”

Alexey Navalny’s death

Russian state investigators seized everything Alexey Navalny touched in final hours before death, new leaked documents show

Alexey Navalny’s death

Russian state investigators seized everything Alexey Navalny touched in final hours before death, new leaked documents show

Many of Skurikhin’s neighbors stopped supporting him in 2014, when he opposed Russia’s annexation of Crimea and started openly criticizing Putin. That same year, he lost his bid for reelection to the village council.

Some of Russko-Vysotskoye’s residents acknowledge that Skurikhin was a passionate politician with a gift for uniting people. One villager I meet, however, says that at a certain point, Skurikhin began “behaving strangely,” referring to his anti-war slogans.

Despite the numerous negative reactions his activism has received, Skurikhin hopes his efforts will still open some people’s eyes to the realities of Russia’s war in Ukraine.

“I believe in democracy, liberalism, freedom of speech, human rights, and local self-government. In my view, these things are key to our country’s prosperity. All my activism has been in the hope that these concepts will take root in our barren political soil,” he says.

‘I stay away from politics’

Of the more than 10 messages Skurikhin wrote on his building, the only two still remaining are “Freedom for Navalny,” which has been crossed out, on the wall and the words “I need peace” on the roof. Skurikhin believes the latter hasn’t been painted over because it’s more “neutral” and because it’s difficult to access.

“I’m really not following what’s happening in Ukraine,” says a young man who works at the shopping center’s auto parts store. “But these slogans [on the storefront], they don’t bother me at all. If Skurikhin meant he wants peace all over the world, then that’s a good message. I don’t know anything about [the message about] Navalny. As far as I understand, he wanted to be president, right?”

Anti-war Russians who stayed

Said without enthusiasm The ‘Forever War’ on Ukraine is chipping away at anti-war Russians’ morale

Anti-war Russians who stayed

Said without enthusiasm The ‘Forever War’ on Ukraine is chipping away at anti-war Russians’ morale

“Everything that Skurikhin writes scares me,” says a 21-year-old woman working at the online order pickup desk. “I’m worried I’ll have nightmares about it. These slogans… they’re not good, but they’re not bad. It’s like they’re neutral. I try to stay away from politics.”

Outside, I meet a man and his child walking out of a cosmetics store. “For me, life here is great,” he tells me. “Nature, clean air, you can take your kid to Krasnoye Selo in 10 minutes if you need to. And it only takes me 40 minutes to get to work in the center of St. Petersburg using the toll road.”

The man says he considers Skurikhin’s prosecution unjust. “But you have to understand, for most locals, his signs look like a clown show,” he explains. “By the way, is he out of jail yet?”

Some time later, I meet a married couple walking out of the online order pickup point. “I’ve known Dmitry since he was in school! He’s a bit fussy,” the man says.

“Yeah, we talk to him sometimes. He seems like a good person. But we don’t support all his activities,” his wife adds.

When I run into the same couple the following day, the man says, “Listen, I remembered something! Dmitry was the first person to start filling the skating rink [each year] for the kids. He always tried to do things for the children.”

How the war became normalized in Russia

‘Our guys’ In Russia’s Buryatia, high military death rates make the war impossible to ignore. A new report reveals how it’s become normalized.

How the war became normalized in Russia

‘Our guys’ In Russia’s Buryatia, high military death rates make the war impossible to ignore. A new report reveals how it’s become normalized.

Story by Danila Istomin. Abridged English-language version by Sam Breazeale.