On the morning of October 30, Novaya Gazeta said it was closing. The day before, its journalists said the newspaper was being evicted from its office on Potapovsky Lane in central Moscow, where it had been based for 29 years. In recent years, Novaya Gazeta had somehow managed to keep working inside Russia despite searches, website blocks, the revocation of its newspaper registration, a show trial of investigative reporter Oleg Roldugin, and the newspaper itself being labeled a “foreign agent.”

Novaya Gazeta’s editor-in-chief, Sergey Sokolov, has worked at the newspaper since its founding in 1993. In an interview with the outlet Bereg, he spoke about how the staff had weathered the past few years, what the final straw was, and what the journalists plan to do next. Meduza is publishing the interview in full.

‘Novaya Gazeta has already shut down twice. I’ve grown a thick skin by now’

— As I understand it, you and your colleagues decided to close Novaya Gazeta on October 26. What have the past few days been like for you?

— I couldn’t tell you exactly when we made that decision. It’s all a blur. Yes, we made that decision because right now we have absolutely no idea how we’re going to get by, or what we’re going to live on.

We’re being given a month to move out — they’re threatening to seal off our floor if we don’t get out in time. We’ve been here for 29 years and built up collections of books donated by our readers, archives, keepsakes, the Politkovskaya museum, and the Novaya Gazeta museum. Now we’re rushing to move everything out and find somewhere else to set up shop.

On top of that, they cut off our access to the donation platform we depended on. That left us with no way to support ourselves at all. All of this happened essentially in a single day. There’s no doubt this is a coordinated effort to destroy Novaya Gazeta once and for all. The current government and the security services have destroyed it.

That’s why we announced that Novaya Gazeta is no more. We’re working until November 9 — fulfilling our last obligation to our readers. Then we’re shutting down the servers and heading out into the street, with nowhere to go.

— What have you been through since you realized you were closing?

— Novaya Gazeta has already shut down twice. I’ve been at this newspaper since its earliest days, so personally, I’ve grown a thick skin by now. Every time Novaya Gazeta has shut down, it has eventually come back. We’ve risen from the ashes before.

The question is when it [the relaunch] will happen — in a month or in years. We can’t say. But we have the most important thing, something nobody can take away: our team, even though circumstances have scattered us across different countries. We have our convictions. We have our memories, our history. Nobody can seal those off. So when it becomes possible, we’ll try to bring Novaya Gazeta back.

— How’s the staff doing right now?

— Running ourselves ragged. We’re still publishing stories and posting on YouTube and Telegram. At the same time, we’re packing up everything we can to save it and move it out.

— I’d like to ask about the circumstances of the closure…

— The circumstances are very simple. We got together, weighed all the factors, and made the decision as a group. We don’t make decisions in secret — it was all done openly. When the online publication Novaya Gazeta was labeled a “foreign agent,” we knew perfectly well this might come up.

Even then, we said [among ourselves] that if the state escalated things any further, we wouldn’t survive. That’s what happened — they took away our office and our means of supporting ourselves. And we didn’t survive. After that, it became impossible to work.

‘Our banks do as they’re told, because today you’re a banker, and tomorrow you’re on a prison bunk’

— The Economist reported that unidentified people entered Novaya Gazeta’s office overnight on October 25–26, and that the next morning, you and Dmitry Muratov gathered the staff in the basement of a neighboring building and asked them to leave their phones outside. Muratov then said Novaya Gazeta could be designated an extremist organization, and the journalists collectively decided it was time to close the publication. Is that how it happened?

— You know, I’m not prepared to comment on other media outlets’ reporting. It’s true that we met away from the office. A lot was said there, and I can’t remember it all now. People shared a wide range of views and information. In any case, the completely reliable information is what’s in our statement.

— Did unidentified people enter Novaya Gazeta’s office?

— I won’t comment on that.

— How likely did you think it was that Novaya Gazeta would be designated an extremist organization?

— I won’t comment on that. As I said, that’s another media outlet’s report, and I won’t comment on it. As for whether someone said that in the heat of the discussion, I don’t remember.

— What other risks did you see for the staff if the publication kept working?

— I don’t want to answer that question, because the answer would give the people persecuting us a cheat sheet. Let them figure it out themselves.

— Did you or your colleagues get any indication from the authorities that this was definitely the end?

— No, we haven’t had any dealings with the authorities for quite some time. We’re toxic to them, and the feeling is mutual. We received an official letter terminating our lease and notices from the banks saying they would no longer work with us. That was the extent of the official contact.

— How did the landlord explain the decision to terminate the lease?

— The explanation was simple: They have the right to terminate the lease, and they’re terminating it. The thing is, the building isn’t privately owned. It belongs to Moscow City Hall. I’m not prepared to interpret the details of the contracts, because I’m not a lawyer.

— Could you tell me a little more about the donation system being cut off — who cut it off, and what explanation did they give?

— They cited some internal corporate rules. I know perfectly well these aren’t internal corporate rules — they’re rules imposed from outside. They were told to do it. Our banks do as they’re told, because today you’re a banker, and tomorrow you’re on a prison bunk. I assume they simply saluted and obeyed orders from people in uniform. Other banks and payment-processing platforms we approached also refused to work with us, citing the same thing. That tells me all organizations of this kind were told not to work with us.

I don’t want to name the particular people who turned us down, because it’s not their fault — it’s their misfortune. Everyone in the Russian Federation is in the same predicament. And holding them responsible would, if you’ll forgive the repetition, be irresponsible.

— Am I right that, under the current circumstances, you can’t launch any kind of fundraiser?

— Yes, we don’t have the technical means to do that. The only option is for people to send payments directly using our bank details. But that’s unlikely to work for long or on a regular basis.

— So there’s no normal way to keep this going inside Russia anymore.

— It’s impossible to work, and foreign banking services don’t operate in the Russian Federation.

‘The hardest part was being unable to cover the central tragedy unfolding before our eyes’

— After Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine began, many independent journalists left Russia. Why did Novaya Gazeta decide to stay at that point?

— We were thinking about what to do next. We held a staff meeting, and opinions were divided. Some people thought we couldn’t keep working under the censorship that had been imposed right away. Others thought we could.

We didn’t know what to do, so we asked our readers. Because we have people who are in this with us — the people who gave us money, our core audience. We asked them what we should do. More than 90% wrote back saying we needed to keep working, because there were lots of things they couldn’t live without knowing. They wanted to stay informed.

So those [staff members] who felt they couldn’t work here left the country and are involved in all kinds of projects. Those who felt it was possible to keep working here stayed.

We’ve worked throughout these years of war, trying to comply with every law of the Russian Federation, even the monstrous ones, so we could keep our readers informed and fulfill our professional duty.

— It’s impossible to imagine the pressure you kept working under all this time. How did it affect the publication’s work — what did you feel personally?

— It’s hard for me to sort out my own feelings. It was truly grueling, exhausting work. It was creative work, so it was interesting. We did a lot. I’m not ashamed of a single article or a single film.

We did what we could to fill the gap in coverage, because nobody knows what’s actually happening in Russia.

— What was the hardest part for the staff during that time?

— Our newsroom is full of strong personalities, so everyone would probably have a different answer to that question. My answer is this: For me, the hardest part was that we can’t cover the central tragedy unfolding before our eyes.

— But you covered its consequences quite successfully, I think.

— We certainly cover the consequences for the country and the world. That’s what we had a duty to do, and that’s what we did.

— Do you believe it’s still possible to practice independent journalism inside Russia today?

— You can count the independent media outlets left in Russia on one hand — both national and regional. They’re hanging on for now. And I wish them every success. We’ll give them all the help we can.

But I think the aim is to destroy the entire information landscape, so that the surviving outlets paint a picture of a country completely unlike the Russia people actually live in.

‘The search of my apartment turned up nothing but dust’

— What will happen to Novaya Gazeta’s archive?

— We’re moving it. The archive will be preserved.

— You’re not saying where yet?

— Why would I? It’ll be stored somewhere.

— A memorial plaque honoring Anna Politkovskaya has been on the facade of your office for 13 years. Aren’t you afraid it’ll be taken down?

— First of all, we’re not afraid of anything — they’ve trained that feeling out of us.

And second, Anna Politkovskaya’s memorial plaque was installed following a decision by Moscow City Hall. Removing it would also require a decision by City Hall. No one else can intervene in that process. So that’s a question for the Moscow city government, not us.

— Is there anything in the office that’s especially precious to you, something you can save and take with you despite the closure?

— Everything we’re moving out now: our archives, both our museums, our collection of back issues, and gifts from readers. It’s not the desks we’re worried about.

— Is there perhaps one object that symbolizes the newspaper for you?

— For me, the people symbolize the newspaper. Keeping our team together will be our first priority. Even keepsakes are just things.

— How many people work at Novaya Gazeta now?

— About 50 staff members, plus a sizable number of freelancers and contributors.

— Do you know what will happen to them after the closure?

— We don’t know the answer to that yet. Right now, we’re dealing with an urgent move. Then we’ll sit down and think. What’s clear is that work under the Novaya Gazeta name has stopped.

— In October, you were questioned in connection with the case against your colleague Oleg Roldugin, and your home was searched. Aren’t you concerned about facing criminal prosecution?

— My home was searched in connection with a case being handled by the Interior Ministry’s Investigative Committee. I’m a witness in that case. It directly concerns Oleg Roldugin, who worked under me.

It was only to be expected that I’d be questioned in this case. I have no concerns about it, because I gave a full account in my testimony. The search of my apartment turned up nothing but dust. So I don’t see anything out of the ordinary about it.

— Would you consider leaving the country?

— As I said, we’re not making plans yet — there are immediate tasks we need to deal with. We don’t know what we’ll do next, because we don’t know what’s going to happen in this country. I suspect nobody does.