Originally published on Global Voices

Screenshot of a video of Intervision 2025's winning performance from Vietnam, represented by Đức Phúc with the song ‘Phù Đổng Thiên Vương’ on Kieran Edmunds's YouTube channel. Fair use.

Song contests have become deeply politicised. From Eurovision to Intervision, nearly every international music competition, like ABU TV Song Festival or Viña del Mar International Song Festival, eventually turns into a mirror of geopolitics. Judges, audiences, even performers find themselves drawn into a game of symbols, where melody and lyrics cease to exist on their own and become a way of saying something between the lines.

In September 2025, Russia announced the revival of Intervision, which seems to be setting itself up as an alternative to Eurovision, from which Russia has been banned since the start of the full-scale war in Ukraine in 2022.

Officials from the host country insist, of course, that the revived contest is “apolitical.” Alexander Alimov, an official at Russia’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, said in an interview with TASS that “Intervision was never intended as a counterweight to Eurovision, although there are certainly differences. Our contest carries no political undertones. We are seeking a unifying language based on such values as mutual respect, cultural sovereignty, and equality.”

At the same time, this independent project, described in Russian media as having its own distinct concept, happens — quite coincidentally — to look strikingly similar to Eurovision: in its name, selection of hosts, visual style, and overall design.

Below is the full broadcast of the Intervision final on YouTube:

And here is the full broadcast of the Eurovision final on YouTube:

The irony is that such contests were originally conceived as the opposite of politics. Eurovision was born in the 1950s with the idea of uniting Europe through culture, while Intervision emerged in the 1970s as the socialist bloc’s counterpart. Performers from Eastern Europe, the USSR and allied nations took part, aiming to show that the Iron Curtain did not block cultural exchange. Held in Sopot, Poland, the contest — despite limited broadcasting — became one of the most recognisable music stages in the Eastern bloc. In 1981, Intervision Sopot was cancelled because of the rise of the independent trade union movement, which was judged by other Eastern bloc communist governments to be “counter-revolutionary.”

Today, as the world once again divides into rival camps, that history feels newly relevant. The more strained the political climate, the less likely it is that music can remain untouched by it. Votes from juries and audiences are increasingly seen not as assessments of talent, but as declarations of allegiance.

Social media has amplified this effect. It’s hardly surprising that under news articles about Intervision, one finds comments like: “I watched it yesterday. It was wonderful. No nudity, everyone dressed decently. No rainbow flags.” The very fact that viewers judge ideology rather than performance shows how far the conversation has drifted from music itself.

The Carnegie Berlin Center pointed out an interesting moment during the show: when the hosts asked the singer from India what his song was about, he replied in English, “About love — whoever you love.”

In Russian, however, this was translated as: “Usually, when people talk about love, they mean the love between a man and a woman. But my song is about another kind of love — love for one’s parents.” This was seen as an attempt to avoid the kind of “vulgarity” that some Russian officials attributed to Eurovision.

There was a time, back in the last century, when Intervision gifted this part of the world with unforgettable songs and remarkable performers.

Below is a YouTube video from the 1968 Golden Clef Intervision Contest held in Karlovy Vary:

This is the Intervision Song Contest held in Sopot, Poland, in 1977:

The revived Intervision, now under active discussion, will inevitably inherit this context. It cannot exist outside politics, but it may offer a different perspective — not rivalry, but dialogue between cultures. After all, music remains the only language the world can still speak without translation.

Originally published on Global Voices

Photo by Agus Dietrich on Unsplash. Used under an Unsplash License.

This article by Alina Mikhalkina was originally published by NewsMaker on September 28, 2024. An edited and translated version is republished on Global Voices as part of a content partnership agreement.

Crises shaking the countries of the former Soviet Union are leading to a growing number of people losing their citizenship. While it may seem that everyone has a nationality, as they reside within the borders of some state, the reality is different. By the end of 2023, there were 4.4 million stateless individuals globally — people without citizenship or with undetermined nationality. These individuals face significant challenges, such as difficulties in getting married, opening bank accounts, or registering property. They effectively vanish from official “radars” and are stripped of many fundamental rights.

Without a passport in Moldova

According to the UN, in 2014, more than twenty years after the collapse of the Soviet Union, over 600,000 people across the post-Soviet space still remained stateless. One of them was Elena Dergunov, a resident of Chișinău.

“In the Transnistrian region, I got a passport of the Republic of Moldova. With it, I was able to go to Israel, where I worked for several years. But when I returned to Moldova, my document was confiscated at the border; they said the passport was invalid,” the woman recalls.

In 1954, the UN countries developed the Convention Relating to the Status of Stateless Persons. According to the document, a stateless person is someone who “is not considered a national by any state under the operation of its law.” By 2024, 98 countries, including Moldova, had signed the convention.

Dergunov says:

I lived without documents for 12 years. All I had was a copy of that invalid Moldovan passport. I registered my middle son at the hospital using that copy. I was only able to obtain a birth certificate for my youngest son when he was five and a half years old.

When there is no protection

Being stateless often means that you cannot open a bank account, register property, get married, enroll a child in school, find a job, or even see a family doctor. Elena admits that her ex-husband constantly threatened her, saying that “he would file a report, and the children would be taken away from me.” For all these years, she couldn’t officially get a job or receive any welfare benefits.

According to UN experts, a person can become stateless due to various circumstances, such as discrimination based on ethnicity, religion, or membership in other minority groups. Another important cause of statelessness is gender discrimination.

Additionally, statelessness can arise during “state succession,” when a new country is formed, or an old one dissolves.

“Since 2005, I applied to various institutions, but I was refused everywhere. I wasn’t a citizen of Ukraine, nor of Moldova. Later, I obtained stateless status and now have an identity card and a foreign passport. For the first time, I was able to officially get a job,” Elena says.

According to Oleg Paliy, head of the Legal Center of Advocates, the difference between recognized stateless people and those with an undefined legal status is that the latter are almost invisible to state structures: “A person without documents has no social rights because these people practically don’t exist — they are invisible to government institutions.”

Belarusians without rights

On January 5, 2023, Alyaksandr Lukashenka signed a law allowing the revocation of Belarusian citizenship for those who fled the country for political reasons. The official basis for this measure is the “loss of legal ties with the state.” Earlier, in 2022, Lukashenka's regime introduced a repressive mechanism enabling the prosecution of opposition figures in absentia. This so-called “special proceeding” not only provides authorities with a formal justification for revoking citizenship but also allows them to freely seize the property left behind by these stateless individuals.

The United Transitional Cabinet of Belarus, created by opposition leader Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya, has promised to launch an unprecedented initiative — a passport for the New Belarus. However, for now, the number of stateless Belarusians, who have found themselves in foreign countries by force of circumstances, continues to grow.

Originally published on Global Voices

Photo by Sasha Pleshco on Unsplash. Used under an Unsplash license.

This article was written by Ekaterina Dubasova and originally published by Newsmaker on August 21, 2024. A translated and edited version is republished on Global Voices under a media partnership agreement.

Relations between Chișinău, Tiraspol (Transnistria), and Comrat  (Gagauzia) remain far from peaceful. While many point to Russia's destabilizing actions, Moscow is not solely to blame for these tensions. In its report published on August 21, the International Crisis Group (ICG) concluded: “The Moldovan government's hardline approach to Transnistria and Gagauzia has led to increased internal tensions and appears counterproductive.” This article highlights the key findings from the ICG report and explores the challenges Moldova faces in fostering unity amid external and internal pressures.

The Kremlin’s strategy and its transformation

Experts from the International Crisis Group emphasize that Russia has historically viewed the territory of the former Soviet Union as its sphere of influence. However, Moldova's economic ties with Western countries have strengthened: energy crises, along with Russia's war in Ukraine, have prompted Chișinău’s decisive turn toward the West.

The situation did not sit well with Russia, resulting in a shift in its tactics regarding Chișinău. Early in the war, “Moscow seemed to believe that gaining control over southwestern Ukraine up to Transnistria would allow it to use military pressure to impose its demands on Moldova.” The authors point out: “Now that the front lines are far from Moldova’s border, this strategy has been sidelined, and Moscow has chosen a different path.”

The Kremlin’s new tactic is intimidation. This primarily involves stoking fear among the Russian-speaking population of potential discrimination by Moldovan authorities. The report draws attention to the shelling of the local Ministry of State Security building in Tiraspol and other similar incidents in April 2022, stating: “It seemed intended as a reminder that Russian power can still reach Moldova.”

A stick without a carrot is a poor tool

However, the authors of the report argue that the growing split between Chișinău and Gagauzia, as well as Transnistria, has been fueled not only by Russia's interference in Moldovan politics but also by Chișinău’s own policies: “After strengthening ties with the West and Ukraine, inspired Moldovan officials have moved toward tightening political and economic control over breakaway Transnistria and autonomous Gagauzia. This has sparked concern and discontent among the residents of these regions.”

The International Crisis Group also noted that, since the start of the war in Ukraine, Russia's influence in Tiraspol has weakened. To support this, the authors cite three factors: First, Tiraspol allowed the transit of Ukrainian goods through its territory. Second, in 2022, the number of applications for Moldovan passports from residents of the region sharply increased (residents sometimes travel with Romanian, Russian, or Ukrainian passports), and by January this year, 97.55 percent of Transnistria’s population held such passports. Finally, in March, the lowest voter turnout in 18 years for Russian presidential elections was recorded in Transnistria.

Thus, the authors conclude that Moldovan officials, feeling increasingly confident in the new geopolitical landscape, sought to tighten political and economic control over the region. Examples include the Moldovan law about separatism and the removal of customs and tax privileges for Transnistria. These actions prompted the PMR leader — the unrecognized president of Transnistria — Vadim Krasnoselsky, to convene a “congress of deputies at all levels” for the first time in 18 years, during which they appealed to Moscow for diplomatic support. According to the report’s authors, “By choosing the stick without offering a carrot or dialogue, Moldovan authorities risk provoking backlash and increasing problems between Tiraspol and Chișinău.”

A similar situation is unfolding in Gagauzia, where Evghenia Gutsul, who is aligned with fugitive oligarch Ilan Shor, was elected as the region’s head (bashkan). Moldova’s president Maia Sandu considers Gutsul part of a criminal group. “After Gutsul’s latest trip to Russia in early April, Moldovan authorities charged her with illegally financing a political party. If convicted, she could face prison time and be forbidden from pursuing a political career. The United States, supporting Sandu’s government efforts to remove Gutsul from power, imposed sanctions on her on June 12,” the report notes.

Nevertheless, Gutsul and Shor's political allies have formed a bloc campaigning against European integration in the upcoming referendum (October 20, 2024). The International Crisis Group observes, “Many voters in Gagauzia, who make up about 5 percent of Moldova’s electorate, are likely to abstain or vote against EU membership. This could influence the outcome, but only in the case of a very tight vote count.”

Challenges

Chișinău faces a difficult task: on one hand, protecting the upcoming elections from Russian interference, and on the other, improving relations with Tiraspol and Comrat.

Regarding the dialogue with Tiraspol, the report’s authors highlighted: first, a very small percentage of Moldovan voters consider the Transnistria’s issue a top priority. Second, the reintegration of Transnistria would increase the number of pro-Russian voters in Moldova. Nevertheless, the International Crisis Group's experts believe that “the geopolitical shifts triggered by Russia's attack on Ukraine have created a rare opportunity for Moldova to strengthen ties with its opposition regions,” and Chișinău must take action to initiate dialogue with Tiraspol.

As for Gagauzia, the authors of the report believe that Chișinău's attitude toward the current authorities of this region is unlikely to change. However, these territories need a dialogue. “The government prefers to maintain relations with Gagauz mayors, businessmen, and students […] Chișinău should strengthen these connections and seek new ones,” the report states.

The primary recommendation from the International Crisis Group on protecting the elections from interference is to combat disinformation and Russian propaganda. The report’s authors called on Western partners to support Moldova’s struggling independent media and encourage the creation of trustworthy Russian-language media outlets.

Originally published on Global Voices

Photo by Cecilie Bomstad on Unsplash. Used under an Unsplash license.

This article was written by Arina Ruble and originally published in Russian by Novaya Vkladka on August 7, 2024. An edited version is published on Global Voices with permission.

How has life changed for queer people across different regions of Russia after the ban on the LGBTQ+ “movement?” What do they fear and dream about?

All names have been changed for safety reasons.

Music in the city of Tomsk

Anya and Nastya are musicians who perform in bars and clubs in Tomsk. They met five years ago. Back then, Anya was curious about the LGBTQ+ community: “I was always trying to understand what was wrong with them, what was broken.” Anya fell in love with Nastya about a year after Russia's full scale invasion of Ukraine began but revealed her feelings only in the fall of 2023: “We managed to date and even go out together before the law [about the LGBTQ+ community being an extremist organization] was passed.” Anya’s mother accepted their relationship, but Nastya’s parents know nothing about Anya.

Anya and Nastya do not feel safe on the streets of the city and only hug each other at home when Anya’s son is not watching.

“We keep our feelings to ourselves and have gotten used to it,” Nastya says matter-of-factly. “I’m very afraid of persecution and of going to prison. I want freedom more than anything. And I also wish Anya’s child knew about us.” Anya plans to tell her son when he turns 10. She believes he will be mature enough by then.

Like Nastya, Anya does not want to leave. In Tomsk, her relatives help her with her child, but most importantly, she enjoys her work: “I’m finally doing in music what I always wanted to do. I’m not ready to give that up.”

‘You can do whatever you want to the invisible’

Ayan, 34, is a doctor like his parents. They live in a district center and, according to him, are supportive and liberal, especially his mother. At 14, Ayan realized he liked boys. However, in Buryatia, Ayan “had no options at all” to meet someone like himself. He could only find someone online.

Ayan lives and works in Moscow right now. His colleagues and neighbours are unaware that he is gay. This is one of the benefits of living in a big city, he believes: “People get tired of each other and don’t really care.”

Ayan believes the ban on LGBTQ+ people is intended to “remove people from the information field, to make them completely invisible.” And you can do whatever you want to the invisible.

According to Ayan, after November 2023, free art disappeared from his world. He loves movies and series, but you cannot find any about the lives of queer people anymore. Everything, even indirectly related to LGBTQ+ themes, has vanished from the cultural agenda.

Ayan has also realized that he now has no future. He has always wanted a child. Ayan believes that “even if Putin dies tomorrow” and the war ends, attitudes towards the LGBTQ+ community will not change.

‘It’s becoming scary here’

Mark is 21 years old and a trans man. He lives in the Novosibirsk region with his grandparents, husband, and dog. He works at a local tobacco shop, selling vapes: “They banned me; soon, they’ll ban my job, too. It’s an incredible coincidence.”

Mark says he has always identified as a man, but his mother chose to ignore the situation.

A month before the LGBTQ+ community was labeled an extremist organization, Mark received a new passport with his new name. As he puts it, “I managed to catch the last train.”

Before this, he and his future husband, 19 years old and also named Mark, received medical assessments  that, until November 30, 2023, allowed them to register for gender reassignment surgery and hormone therapy. Now, such assessments are useless “because of the law, you can’t get hormone therapy or have surgeries.” Considering everything, the 19 year old Mark decided not to change his passport and officially remained a woman so the couple could register their relationship.

By city standards, Mark doesn’t look extravagant; he resembles Daniel Radcliffe casting Harry Potter more than a flamboyant character. When a journalist asks if the locals have become more aggressive after the law was passed, Mark replies that people in the settlement have always been biased against queer individuals.

Younger Mark speaks cautiously and sadly about how the people’s hostility affects him deeply. He works with the Vyhod Group, which provides legal and psychological support to LGBTQ+ people.

‘I fear we’ll be crushed by the wheels of history’

Heinrich and Tel are both trans men. They have been together for five years and hope to marry in the future. Both still have their female names on their passports.

Heinrich and Tel have both experienced sexual violence from family members and have faced beatings and bullying. Heinrich now works as a logistics specialist, and Tel is a doctor. Their colleagues are unaware that they are trans men, and neither has contact with their parents.

Ten years ago, Heinrich believed that same-sex marriage would eventually be possible in Russia. There were large LGBTQ+ communities and queer-friendly establishments in Moscow, and everything seemed more or less fine.

Tel feels differently — since he realized and accepted himself, “he hasn’t lived a single day in peace.”

Despite their fears, exhaustion, and skepticism, both volunteer to help queers with everyday issues and health problems, provide shelter and registration, and offer legal consultations. “Sitting around and waiting for the weather to change isn’t for us. I can’t stand inaction. If you do nothing, nothing will change,” says Heinrich.

“I fear we’ll be crushed by the wheels of history — me, my husband, and our friends,” says Tel.

‘There are many of us, and we are strong’

Violetta is a transgender woman. She began her transition shortly after November 30, 2023. Without a medical certificate, surgery, or a change of passport, Violetta moved away from her parents. They are unaware of her transition.

Currently, Violetta is working with her colleagues on a media project to help LGBTQ+ individuals safeguard their information security.

After Violetta came out, many friends stopped talking to her “within a week.” The community of people like her provided much-needed support. “There are many of us, and we are strong,” Violetta says, “despite attempts to suppress us.”

Before November 30, 2023, Violetta wasn’t interested in activism. The new law led her to stand by her community and assist those who remained in Russia. She now conducts security audits for organizations associated with vulnerable minorities.

Violetta adds, “The government can dictate whatever it wants. Tomorrow they might ban sandals, saying sandals are a sign of the Extremist Organization of Sandal Wearers, for example. And who will oppose them? No one.”

The struggle for recognition and understanding exacerbates tensions in societies where hatred and prejudice dominate over tolerance. Not to mention situations where the primary enemy is the state. Almost all the people featured in this article are considering leaving the country. As Tel puts it, “Because I’m afraid of living my whole life not being free.”

Originally published on Global Voices

Teapot and tea briquette. Photo by Anastasia Pestova, used with permission

Once, during my student years, I was coming home by train. The economу-class train was packed with students like myself from various regions of Russia. We quickly got to know each other, and two guys volunteered to make us some tea. Returning with the cups, one of them pulled a knife and a block of butter out of his backpack. Without hesitation, he plopped at least 50 grams of butter into each cup! The guys were from a small Siberian town and explained that back home, many people drink tea this way. Later, in the cramped toilet of the old Russian train, they spent a long time scrubbing our cups clean of the butter with cold water.

Where the Russian tea comes from

In 1638, tea was brought from China as a gift for Tsar Mikhail Fedorovich. Initially, tea in Russia was considered a medicine and was sold in pharmacies. People even tried to cure cholera with tea.

The tea era truly began when tea transitioned from a medicinal product to a common beverage. The first ones who started drinking tea on a regular basis were the inhabitants of Siberia in the 18th century, both Russian peasants and Indigenous peoples. The drink helped them stay warm in the harsh climate and provided a boost of energy during long journeys.

The most expensive tea in Tsarist Russia was called “baikhovy” tea. Interestingly, this term existed and still exists only within the country. It is said that Chinese traders, offering the most valuable tea with tips (the top leaves of the tea plant), would say “bai hao.” Russian merchants simplified this to “baikhovy.” Essentially, this term does not refer to a specific type of tea but rather to any loose-leaf tea.

Tea drinking as a cultural experience

In East Asia, tea is a ceremony with its own special rules and a particular journey into the inner world. Russian tea drinking, however, has (almost) no ceremonies and is marked by long, heartfelt conversations.

Russian samovar. Photo by KiriLL for Newspaper ‘Number One’ via Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.

Tea time has always been a setting for discussing important matters and socializing. In the 17th and 18th centuries, silence at the table was seen as disrespectful to the hosts. People would sit at the table for a long time, as tea was not something to be rushed.

A distinctive feature of Russian tea culture is the abundance of treats served with tea. Honey, jam, sugar, fruits, dried fruits, cream, milk, various buns, pies, and cookies are typically served. Sometimes, even meat dishes are included. In some regions, you can even see salted lemons and pickles served with tea.

While in East Asia tea is poured from the same pot in which it is brewed, the Russian tradition involves a samovar and a separate teapot.

The samovar, an indispensable attribute of traditional Russian tea drinking, can now mostly be found in museums or traditional restaurants. However, special tea cozies used to cover the teapot can still be found in some families. These are made from thick materials and shaped in different ways, like a woman in a wide skirt, a doll, a rooster, or fairy tale animals.

Tea glass holder. Photo by A. Myasnykov via Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.

Another popular accessory is the “podstakannik” (tea glass holder). In taverns, tea was served in glasses without handles, which would burn the hands. In the 18th century, a clever artisan invented the first podstakannik. They were made from various materials like brass, copper, or silver. The wealthy could afford personalized holders adorned with precious stones. In 1892, podstakanniks started to be used on trains, a tradition that continues today.

‘Chifir’ and some strange teas

No discussion of Russian teas would be complete without mentioning the notorious prison tea, “chifir.” This unique ritual found only within the confines of the former USSR, involves brewing an incredibly strong and bitter tea with psycho-stimulating effects due to its high caffeine content. In a 400 ml aluminum mug, at least half of a 50-gram packet of tea is used.

Doctors warn that prolonged consumption of chifir can lead to cardiovascular and gastrointestinal diseases.

But chifir is not the only unusual tea. In eastern Siberia, a tea called “zatiran” was made from cheap tea leaves, salt, milk, and flour fried in fat or butter. This type of tea is still popular among the residents of Buryatia.

In the 1960s, during a period of shortages, a tea nicknamed “elephant tea” (because of the packaging image) became incredibly popular in Russia. To improve the quality of tea in the country, the authorities arranged imports from India and Sri Lanka. “Indian tea” actually contained only 15 percent real “Indian” leaves, with the rest being lower-quality tea from Georgia. Essentially, the familiar taste from Soviet stores was a blend of teas from various regions.

This might explain why lemon has become a quintessential addition to Russian tea. The bright taste of lemon can mask all other flavors, effectively “rescuing” even the poorest quality tea. This practice, used both in the past and today, “improves” even Lipton teabags.

Tea in the Russian language

Tea has found its place not only in kitchens and restaurants but also in the Russian language. The term for “a gratuity or tip given to service staff” is “chaevie” in Russian, literally translating as “tea money.”

The expression “гонять чаи” (gonyat’ chai) meaning “to drink tea in an unhurried manner and with great enjoyment” is used to describe someone loafing around or shirking work. There are proverbs like “выпей чайку — забудешь тоску” (Drink tea, forget your sorrow) and “чай не пьешь — откуда силу возьмешь?” (If you don't drink tea, where will you get your strength?). From the Siberian region comes the word “чаёвничать,” meaning “to chat” or “to socialize over tea.”

So the main thing in Russian tea is not what is in the cup, but those who are at the table. Therefore, in Russia, tea is more than just a drink; sometimes it is a real adventure.

Originally published on Global Voices

Photo by Tina Hartung on Unsplash. Used under an Unsplash license.

The article by Alina Mikhalkina was first published by Newsmaker in the end of 2023.  This edited version is being republished and edited for clarity on Global Voices with permission from Newsmaker. 

“How to flee from Ukraine to Moldova” has been one of the most popular  searches on Google over the past two years. It’s not only women, children, and the elderly are fleeing the war in Ukraine, but also men of military age who cannot or do not want to fight. Men often choose to do it illegally. However, in the near future, their rights may be restricted, and they may be made to return to Ukraine.  

How refugees live

Originally published on Global Voices

Photo by Anastasiia Chepinska on Unsplash. Used under an Unsplash license.

This article originally appeared in Holod magazine. An edited version has been republished on Global Voices under a content partnership agreement.

Originally published on Global Voices

Screenshot from the Baikal People Journal‘s website: An illustration picturing stereotypes about Buryats. Used with permission.

This article was published in Baikal People Journal on September 14, 2023. A translated and edited version is republished on Global Voices with permission.

The Buryats, an ethnic group of Mongolic descent, originate from southeastern Siberia. They represent one of the two predominant indigenous populations in Siberia, along with Yakuts. Today, most Buryats reside in their titular homeland, the Republic of Buryatia. This federally administrated province of Russia extends along the southern shoreline and partially encompasses Lake Baikal. The region, along with many other remote poor regions of Russia, had been disproportionally targeted by the military draft in the Russian war on Ukraine.

Since the beginning of the conflict in Donbas, a meme has emerged about “boevoy Buryat” (“battle-ready Buryats”) prepared to sacrifice themselves for Putin. This meme gained widespread popularity after the start of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine. This has exposed a disturbing undercurrent of racism in a country that swears to be ‘fighting against Nazis. The conflict has also disproportionately highlighted Asians as the face of the war, even though they represent an absolute minority in terms of percentage actively participating. Together with an anonymous volunteer from a charitable foundation and Purbe Dambiev, an activist from the Buryat Center in Mongolia, we are talking about some discriminating phrases against the Buryat community.

‘I thought you could only herd cattle’ or ‘Wow, you can do that?’

These derogatory expressions are based on stereotypes about the low intelligence or qualifications of Asians in Russia. While it may seem that such comments are no longer prevalent, real-life experiences prove otherwise.

A volunteer recalled an incident when she and her friend attended a networking event in Moscow. “When I introduced myself and mentioned that I work as a lawyer, one man was surprised and said, ‘Can you do that?’ In his opinion, all Asians living in cities either work as cleaners or couriers. Then he added, ‘I thought you could only herd cattle.'”

There was another example when a Buryat woman went to a restaurant with her colleagues during lunch. “As soon as I entered the restroom, a woman started questioning me: ‘Where are the paper towels?’ In her view, because I am Asian, I must be only a cleaner at that restaurant,” the volunteer recounted.

‘Buryats are superstitious’

In every nation exists a system of widely accepted norms and values, including myths and superstitions. Superstitions reflect the centuries-long history of peoples, but it is not accurate to speak of Buryats as having a unified collective consciousness. Activist Purbe Dambiev explains, “There are quite a number of Buryats: several hundred thousand in Buryatia, thousands of Mongolian and Chinese Buryats. They are all very diverse, and their local customs vary. Among us, there are people who hold traditions dear, and there are those for whom they are not so important.”

‘Battle-ready Buryats’

Buryats are regular people who, in their daily lives, are not fundamentally different from other nationalities. Describing an entire nation as quarrelsome and aggressive is a clear exaggeration and falsehood. Furthermore, as per Dambiev's words, the phrase “battle-ready Buryats” is deeply offensive because it characterizes people as if they were some kind of particular breed of dogs.

‘For a Buryat person, you are quite…’ (beautiful, tall, muscular, and so on)

Such comments are common instances of racism that Buryats frequently face when they move to western regions of Russia for education or employment. Those who make such comments assume, for instance, that individuals of a specific nationality or ethnic group are typically not considered attractive, and, in this particular case, beauty is something unexpected and unusual.

A volunteer shares: “The sizes and heights of people depend on numerous factors and can vary even within a single ethnic group. However, such expressions are prevalent even among Buryats themselves.”

Sometimes, the speakers claim that they intended to give a compliment. Nevertheless, these statements should not be mistaken for compliments.

‘Before joining Russia, the Buryats didn't even have a written language’

This statement is factually incorrect. The Buryats had their own methods of transmitting knowledge and cultural heritage prior to contact with the Russian Empire. The Buryats had a Mongolic vertical script. So such a statement is disrespectful towards Buryat culture and history.

‘Even though you are Buryat, you are still one of us’

This is a highly popular and completely racist statement that categorizes people into specific groups. Furthermore, such expressions are now extremely widespread and even find reflection in popular culture. For instance, in the verses of so-called Z-poets who propagate the Russian invasion of Ukraine.

‘Ni hao’

In western regions of Russia, people might use this Chinese greeting towards any Asian, considering it a funny joke. However, it's a stereotypical and offensive expression that implies that all Asians are the same, sharing the same culture and language.

‘Did you buy a passport? Is Buryatia also part of Russia?’

It's not a crime to have a limited knowledge of geography. However, while migrants in Russia are legally required to know the language and culture, not all Russians are aware of which regions are part of Russia. This phrase also symbolizes a division between the “real people” with the right documents and the rest with the wrong ones.

‘Slant-eyed’

There exist several offensive and discriminatory stereotypes associated with the shape of one's eyes. These physical characteristics lead to derogatory characterizations: Buryats are often unfairly portrayed as less intelligent, more cunning, or as having hidden motives.

“The belief that one's eye shape can somehow reveal their character, behavior, or intelligence is absurd. Such oversimplified perceptions of appearance dismiss the rich history and cultural diversity,” notes a volunteer.

She adds that the complex of “slant eyes” did not emerge out of thin air. Some Asians attempt to address it by undergoing a “European eye fold” surgery.  “These operations are quite popular, not only in Russia's national republics but also in Kazakhstan,” she further explains.

On one hand, stereotypes are a fairly common aspect of intercultural relations. People with a sense of humor may identify traits associated with specific groups. However, there is a downside to this process: hurtful stereotypes can narrow the boundaries of the world, create actual barriers between people, and fuel division and animosity. Stereotypes about Buryats are a vivid example of these negative social processes.

Originally published on Global Voices

The founder of the Horizon OKC Daria Kuznetsova returned to her hometown from Moscow after the start of the war. Photo: Evgeny Demshin for Novaya Vkladka. Used with permission.

Mural based on a painting by Kazimir Malevich in Tchaikovsky. Photo: Evgeny Demshin for Novaya Vkladka. Used with permission.

But then the war began

Left: Although the stencil portrait of Vladimir Solovyov is being painted over throughout the city, in some parts of Tchaikovsky, it has not yet been removed. In the center: Paintings by Alexander Bessmertnykh, hung on trees in the forest near the embankment. The distant work depicts the letter Z “crossed out and rethought.” Right: Work by artist sane46 “Points of View” Photos: Nailya Mirzalieva, Lola Romanova, Zhanna Nerinovskaya for Novaya Vkladka. Used with permission.

The street art school was closed when young people from Chaykovsky left the city, but the Horizon team revives this art form now. They have created graffiti based on paintings by Malevich and Botticelli on the walls of the old buildings. However, local residents wanted to see paintings from the era of socialist realism — the primary artistic direction in literature and art in the USSR. According to Daria, “bringing back paintings from the Stalin era is almost like trying to bring back the past.” After a series of discussions, the team of artists painted what they had envisioned. Since the mural has not been defaced by vandals so far, activists believe there is hope for positive change in people.

Left: Mural based on the painting “Spring” by Sandro Botticelli. In the center: Spring, people come here to drink water. Right: In the courtyards of Tchaikovsky, unexpected installations by local artist Sergei Korolev, carved on crowned poplars, are often found. All of them are based on folk tales Photo: Evgeny Demshin for Novaya Vkladka. Used with permission.

Currently, Horizon doesn't have a large number of visitors, but the situation is changing. According to members of Horizon, the passivity of residents is a result of the suppression of initiative at the national level.

Daria Kuznetsova (left) is sure that everyone has the right to their own city and their own country Photo: Evgeny Demshin for Novaya Vkladka. Used with permission.

Originally published on Global Voices

Anonymous street art in Yekaterinburg. The inscription reads “Banksy is not coming.” Photo by Anna Marchenkova for Novaya Vkladka .Published with permission.

This article by Eva Gogol was originally published by Novaya Vkladka on July 27, 2003. A translated and edited version is republished on Global Voices with permission from Novaya Vkladka (The New Tab) 

Yekaterinburg is referred to as the capital of street art in Russia. World-renowned street art creators live and work here, and the city hosts international street art festivals. Since the war began, the unofficial status has come into question: some artists have left Russia, while others have been imprisoned for their anti-war works. However, it is too early to bury street art in Yekaterinburg.

If you have some spray cans: guilty as charged

The court sentenced artist Leonid Cherny (real name Yegor Ledyakin) to six months of restricted liberty under the article on vandalism based on political hatred in the Russian penal code. Now the creator cannot leave the city, change his place of residence, participate in mass events, or leave his home from ten in the evening until six in the morning.

But both Cherny and his attorney consider the verdict the best possible outcome. One of the potential alternatives was a three-year prison sentence.

Cherny was detained on March 18, 2022, the anniversary of the annexation of Crimea by the Russian Federation. Police found spray cans and anti-war stickers on him. According to the investigation, Cherny allegedly wrote some insulting words about the president on the fruit and vegetable kiosk.

“I do not consider myself guilty, all the evidence was circumstantial. As an artist, in each of my works, I appeal to conscience and humanity. Nothing has changed for me,” stated Cherny.

Anonymous street art in Yekaterinburg. The inscription says “Special White Inscription” [GV: Because it is prohibited to call the Russia's war on Ukraine a war but people are obliged to use “Special military operation” instead.] Photo by Anna Marchenkova for Novaya Vkladka. Published with permission.

Artists are in danger

Leonid Cherny is not the sole artist in the Sverdlovsk region accused of making anti-war statements. In May 2022, a court brought administrative charges of discrediting the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation against artist Alisa Gorshenina from Nizhny Tagil. On March 25, the young woman conducted a single-person picket using agitational material — a white rose with a ribbon bearing an anti-war slogan in the Chuvash and Tatar languages.

 

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A post shared by Alisa Gorshenina (@alicehualice)

Several administrative and criminal cases against street artists have been initiated across the country over the past year. Crimean resident Bogdan Zizu was sentenced to 15 years in prison for terrorism and vandalism. According to the FSB, on the night of May 16, 2022, Zizu splashed yellow and blue paint on the facade of the administration building in Yevpatoriya and threw a Molotov cocktail through a window. No one was injured and no fire occurred.

A place where some street art works used to be in Yekaterinburg, painted over by the authorities. Photo by Anna Marchenkova for Novaya Vkladka. Published with permission.

In June 2023, in a court in Borovsk (Kaluga Region) 85-year-old artist Vladimir Ovchinnikov was fined RUB 35,000 [About 500 USD at the time] under a law that criminalizes “discrediting” the Russian armed forces. Last April, Ovchinnikov received the same fine for an image of a girl in blue and yellow clothing with bombs falling on her.

Colors are fading

Due to the increasing lack of safety for their work in Russia, many artists have started to leave the country.

Artist Slava PTRK, who pioneered street art and urban art in the region from the outset, has departed. “I relocated in order to avoid the wave of mobilization during the war, which I have not supported from the very beginning, initiated by the authorities that I also do not support,” he said.

Slava PTRK is known for his artwork that blends pop culture with current news agenda. For example, in 2020, he portrayed Patriarch Kirill as Scrooge McDuck bathing in a pool of money. Currently, Slava PTRK lives in Montenegro, where he creates minimalistic works that often remain untitled.

 

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A post shared by Slava Ptrk (@slavaptrk)

‘Pragmatists never perceive emotions’

However, anti-war artwork can still be seen in the city. In particular, artist BFMTH has created many such works on the streets of Yekaterinburg.

Works of street artist BFMTH Photo provided by BFMTH. Published with permission from Novaya Vkladka

The image on on the right: “Pizdezh 1” [Bullshit 1], which in its design references the logo of the state owned TV channel “Russia 1.” On the left, the inscription says: “The country is big, there is enough soil for everyone.” The word soil [земля] is written with a latin Z, which has been a government-promoted  symbol of the Russian invasion of Ukraine.

Another one of his impactful works was a printed image of Vladimir Putin glued onto a transformer in a fenced courtyard, creating the illusion that the Russian president was imprisoned.

BFMTH explained to Novaya Vkladka that, under these circumstances, it’s impossible for him to create artworks unrelated to the war.

“I consider it crucial to continue my work and try to show to those who remain in the country that it is both possible and necessary to unite and speak out against the war. Much like the participants of the ‘White Rose’ movement [in Nazi Germany] tried to fight the regime, I am trying to contribute through street art, caricatures, and stickers. When you leave the country, you [as an artist] lose the connection,” BFMTH emphasized.

Additionally, as street art researcher Alexey Shakhov noted, street artists in Yekaterinburg are inventing new ways to communicate with their audiences. “Artists try to communicate through the language of emotions. This language is completely inaccessible to official structures: pragmatists never perceive emotions.”

Art object “Industrial Baby,” created by the art group LKKL, artists Lyudmila Kalinichenko and Ksenia Larina Photo: Anna Marchenkova for Novaya Vkladka. Published with permission.

Artists, both street and others, continue to work in Yekaterinburg, even in the face of escalating censorship.

Anonymous street art in Yekaterinburg. The sign says: “To be free is always in fashion.” Photo by Anna Marchenkova for Novaya Vkladka. Published with permission.

However, as Shakhov points out, censorship doesn't stop everyone. “Just look at Leonid Cherny: he went through the court and, despite that, continues to work. This [tightening of laws and censorship] hasn't stopped or silenced people. On the contrary, in Yekaterinburg, I see artists with much more resilient spirits than elsewhere,” he concluded.

Originally published on Global Voices

Photo by Valery Tenevoy on Unsplash

This article by Yulia Selikhova was published by Holod Magazine on August 7, 2023. A translated and edited version of this article has been published by Global Voices with the permission from Holod. 

Based on statistics from the first seven months of 2023, Russia is expected to witness a higher number of state treason cases in 2023 than in the previous 20 years. The trials usually take place behind closed doors. While earlier high-risk groups included defense enterprise employees, military personnel, and scientists with access to state secrets, nowadays, practically anyone can be accused of treason.

The public is unable to access the details of these accusations, as the content of state secrets itself is deemed classified.

Polina Evtushenko, 24 years old, was born and raised in Tolyatti until she was suddenly accused of state treason in mid-July 2023. On March 1, 2022, merely a week after the start of Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Polina shared a link on her Instagram page to a petition for the impeachment of Vladimir Putin. She also published several anti-war posts. It is possible that one of these Instagram posts served as a foundation for her accusation.

Now Polina is detained and confined to a pre-trial detention center in the village of Kryazh in the Samara region, far away from her daughter.

‘Spies’ and ‘traitors’

In just the first seven months of this year, there have been four times as many cases of treason initiated than in the entire year of 2022 (82 cases from January to July in 2023 versus 20 cases in 2022).

Evgeny Smirnov, a lawyer from Perviy Otdel [a non-profit association of lawyers that assists in political cases in Russia] emphasizes: “Many of the cases we are monitoring lack case files on court websites. I believe that there may be twice as many cases in reality.”

All terms and articles in the current legislation are very broad and vague, making it difficult even for lawyers or law enforcement officials to interpret the law unequivocally. According to Smirnov, nearly anyone unfamiliar with real cases of treason could unwittingly disclose a state secret in casual conversation.

One treason case a day

The geographic distribution of criminal cases has shifted significantly. Smirnov states, “Previously, 90 percent of cases were concentrated in Moscow, with the remaining 10% in Krasnodar, Saint Petersburg, and occasionally Khabarovsk. However, following the full-scale invasion, cases of treason and espionage have become more prevalent in the regions.”

In the beginning, investigations in the regions took a lot of time. “Now, the FSB has picked up its pace: on average, around 20 criminal cases are initiated per month,” says Smirnov. “This means that one case is initiated every working day.”

The first case of siding with the enemy in 2023 was initiated on the very first working day of the new year, January 9. The report states that the detainee “attempted to travel to Ukraine to participate in combat actions on the side of the VSU.” Every single detail of this case remains unknown: it’s classified.

Smirnov states that investigators follow a pattern: “One case mirrors another, only the surnames change.” He also told Holod that lawyers from the “Perviy Otdel” have recently received many testimonies indicating that detainees were tortured.

No acquittal

According to Holod, between January 1 and July 31, 2023, the media disclosed at least 22 verdicts in cases of treason. The average prison term for “traitors” is 11.5 years of strict regime imprisonment. As of today, there hasn't been a single acquittal in cases of treason.

Prominent individuals sentenced for treason in the first half of 2023 include politician Vladimir Kara-Murza (sentenced to 25 years in a strict regime colony), businessman and Group-IB founder Ilya Sachkov (14 years in a strict regime colony and USD 5500 fine), and scientist Valery Golubkin (12 years in a strict regime colony).

Yet, it is ordinary Russian citizens who are in danger.

Game without rules

Evgeny Smirnov firmly believes that cases of treason and espionage are essential for the state to maintain societal tension. “When the ‘red lines’ are clearly defined, a person knows what can be done and what cannot. In recent years, the state intentionally formulates laws so that a person does not know but only feels what is allowed and what is prohibited,” he says.

On July 21, the first criminal case in Russia involving a financial transfer to Ukraine using cryptocurrencies was initiated.

The young woman Polina Evtushenko probably did not suspect that her Instagram posts with just eight likes could be considered state treason. Evgeny Smirnov informed Holod that she could face up to 15 years of imprisonment.

Tomorrow, anyone could find themselves charged with state treason.

The only way to remain on the safe side is to avoid any communication with foreigners, not read or watch any news other than state-owned media, show no interest in anything, and not ask friends about anything or post anything on social media. As George Orwell wrote, “If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.”

Originally published on Global Voices

Screenshot featuring Christian Montag from the YouTube video

This interview with psychologist Christian Montag by Maxim Zagovora was originally published by Holod Magazine. Global Voices translated and republished the article with permission under a content-sharing agreement.

The book “New Gods” by Christian Montag, a psychologist and professor of Molecular Psychology at Ulm University in Germany, was released on July 29, 2023. According to the author, the “new gods” are online platforms and social networks that dictate to users whom to vote for, what to buy, and what to think. Holod spoke to Montag about the mechanisms of user manipulation and the role of social media algorithms in Russia's invasion of Ukraine. The interview has been edited for style and brevity.

Holod (H): In the preface to the Russian edition of “New Gods,” you mentioned that you are “very happy to see your book published in Russian.” Many of your colleagues do not share this sentiment and prohibit the publication of their books, films, or music in Russia. Why do you have a different perspective?

Кристиан Монтаг (КМ): Я понимаю проблему, о которой вы говорите. Да, с одной стороны, мы являемся свидетелями ужасного нападения России на Украину. Многие люди приравнивают российское правительство к российским гражданам и культуре. Но я думаю, что большинство обычных россиян не имеют никакого отношения к политике и они должны получать информацию о том, что происходит в мире.

Я думаю, что моя книга очень важна для понимания того, как онлайн-платформы манипулируют нашим выбором. В наше ужасное время социальные сети особенно часто используются для дезинформации, и я думаю, что моя книга, изданная на русском, поможет пролить свет на некоторые механизмы, лежащие в основе социальных сетей, которые явно играют большую роль в войне России на украинской земле.

Christian Montag (CM): I understand the problem you're talking about. Yes, on one hand, we are witnessing the terrible Russian aggression against Ukraine. Many people have conflated the Russian people, Russian culture and the Russian state, considering them jointly responsible for everything. However, I believe that many Russians deserve to be informed about global events in the world.

I consider my book to be of great importance for understanding how online platforms manipulate our choices. In these challenging times, social networks are particularly prone to disinformation. I believe that my book will shed light on some of the underlying mechanisms of social networks, which undoubtedly play a significant role in Russia's conflict in Ukraine.

H: You mention Russia's invasion of Ukraine only once in “New Gods,” in the preface. But do you see a connection between this war and the processes you describe in your book?

КМ: Я не упоминаю эту войну, потому что книга была написана до нападения России на Украину. Но там есть длинная глава, посвященная дезинформации и фейкам. Механизм их распространения универсален: социальные сети заинтересованы в том, чтобы пользователи проводили там больше времени: так люди оставляют больший цифровой след, информацию о своих интересах, которую потом можно использовать в любых целях.

Платформы поняли, что затягивать людей, завладевать их вниманием проще всего, показывая им только то, что им нравится. Так работают алгоритмы. Представьте себе человека, который узнает новости только из своей ленты в социальной сети. У него есть некая картина мира, он связан с людьми, которые транслируют близкие ему идеи. И он каждый день получает им подтверждение.

Вокруг его мировоззрения образуется эхокамера, или информационный пузырь, так это мнение постоянно усиливается и не меняется. Концепцию информационного пузыря давно критикуют, но она всё ещё работает, и работает прекрасно.

В нынешней России ситуация такова, что медийный ландшафт зачищен, то есть фильтрацию осуществляет государство. И если человек приходит в соцсети с теми установками, которые получил от власти, то соцсети будут их только поддерживать.

Кроме того, алгоритмы многих социальных сетей поощряют распространение фейковых новостей. Почему? Потому что фейковые новости, как правило, очень яркие, привлекают многих. А социальные сети в выигрыше, потому что люди проводят на платформе больше времени.

CM: I didn’t mention this war because the book was written before Russia's attack on Ukraine. However, there is a big chapter dedicated to disinformation and fake news. They spread the same way: social networks want their users to spend more time on their platforms, to leave a more extensive digital footprint that can be used for various purposes.

Platforms have realized that capturing users’ attention is easiest by showing them content they prefer. That's how algorithms work. For example, consider an individual who gets the news only from his social media feed. He lives in his own world and connects with people who share similar ideas. So he lives within an echo chamber or information bubble. The concept of the information bubble has been criticized, but it still remains effective.

In Russia, authorities filter information. If a person enters social media with pre-established filters in his head, social networks only support these views. Moreover, numerous social media algorithms tend to spread fake news. Why? Because fake news stimulates emotions, causing people to spend more time on the platform.

H: You're discussing the culpability of online platforms, which could be interpreted as an excuse for those who support the war. Like “they are merely victims of algorithms and propaganda.”

КМ: Ну, это упрощение. Я не говорю, что люди не несут ответственности. И тем не менее нельзя отрицать тот факт, что становится труднее получать правдивую информацию. Мне кажется, что сейчас в России доступ к альтернативным источникам информации требует больших усилий. Искать правду — это практически работа. Я знаю это по своему опыту жизни в Китае, где государство контролирует интернет. И даже когда вы отыскали альтернативу, вам ещё нужно каким-то образом отличить ложь от правды.

CM: Well, that's an oversimplification. I'm not saying that people are completely blameless. But we cannot deny the fact that it's difficult for people to access accurate information, especially in Russia. Seeking the truth is really hard work. I know this from my experience living in China, where the state controls the internet. And even if you find some alternative information, you still need to distinguish falsehood from truth.

H: You mentioned that certain people are more prone to believe in fake news. Who are these individuals?

КМ: Мы провели большое исследование, чтобы понять это. И один фактор оказался наиболее релевантным — доверие. Доверие к обществу и власти.

Те, у кого доверия больше, лучше справлялись с различением настоящих новостей и фейковых, чем те, у кого доверия не было. Но наше исследование актуально для Германии. Я не знаю, что бы оно показало в России, где государство зачастую генерирует фейковые новости.

CM: We conducted an extensive study trying to understand this and one factor proved to be the most relevant: trust.

Those who have greater trust in authorities and society demonstrate greater proficiency in distinguishing real news from fake news compared to those with lower trust level. Yet, this is a German study, and I don’t think that it’s relevant for Russia where the state often generates fake news.

H: Which social network is currently the most politicized?

КМ: Думаю, Twitter, который теперь называется просто X. Считаю, что это одна из самых политизированных платформ в мире.

CM: I think it's Twitter, now known as X. I consider it one of the most politicized platforms in the world.

H: What do you think about the changes on Twitter after it was bought by Elon Musk?

КМ: Я в целом не сторонник ситуации, когда таким сильным инструментом владеет один человек. Эти люди не понимают всю свою ответственность.

CM: I don’t like the situation where such a powerful tool is owned by a single individual. It's too much power.  These individuals may not fully comprehend their responsibility.

H: You critique nearly all social networks and the internet as a whole. Yet, the whole idea of the internet creation was to have some space of real freedom. Where did we go wrong?

КМ: Давайте вернемся в 1990-е. Администрация Клинтона приняла Закон о телекоммуникации [речь о статье 230 этого закона, которая освобождает интернет-компании от ответственности за информацию, публикуемую пользователями на их платформах].

Много лет, вплоть до сегодняшнего дня, большие компании ссылаются на этот закон и говорят: «Смотрите, мы просто информационная инфраструктура, мы не несём ответственности за то, что люди здесь публикуют».

Мы можем надеяться на технологическое решение. Можно изменить алгоритм, чтобы человеку показывалась информация с различных точек зрения.

CM: Let's go back to the 1990s. The Clinton administration passed the Telecommunications Act (Section 230, which frees internet companies from liability to moderate the content published by users on their platforms).

For many years, up to the present, major corporations have cited this law, “look, we're merely informational infrastructure, we're not responsible for what people publish here.”

We need a technological solution. It’s possible to change the algorithm, enabling individuals to see information from different perspectives.

H: Do you believe that someday the internet will return to the ideals of freedom, equality, and information accessibility?

КМ: Ученые сейчас много говорят о том, как должен выглядеть Web 3.0. Все хотят формировать будущее, и компании не исключение. И я думаю, что сейчас надо сделать так, чтобы наше будущее не оказалось в руках немногих избранных.

Один из образов независимого будущего — свободное программное обеспечение для создания социальных сетей. Таким образом мы можем влиять на то, где находятся наши данные, куда мы хотим их поместить и зачем, с кем и на какой платформе мы хотим взаимодействовать. Мы видим в Европейском союзе Закон о цифровых услугах и Закон о цифровых рынках, которые уже позволяют регулировать деятельность крупных компаний и сервисов в сети. Надеюсь, они станут мощным инструментом, с помощью которого можно будет регулировать большие компании уже в ближайшем будущем. И это позволит расти более здоровым социальным сетям.

CM: Academics are currently discussing what Web 3.0 should look like. Everyone wants to shape the future and the companies are not an exception here. We really need to do something to prevent a few of them from monopolising our future.

One good example: open-source software for social networks. In this case we can influence where our data is stored, where we place it and for what purpose, and so on. The Digital Services Act and the Digital Markets Act within the European Union already regulate the large corporations activities and services on the internet. I hope that these laws become powerful tools to control big companies in the near future. This will facilitate the growth of healthier social networks.

Originally published on Global Voices

Made by Global Voices with OpenAI

The Twitter account of the Feminist Resistance Movement (a grassroots anti-war organisation originated in Russia) published tragic news about the death of a transgender girl from Russia who committed suicide in a refugee camp in the city of Drachten in the Netherlands.

Трансгендерная девушка из России покончила с собой в лагере для беженцев в Нидерландах

Хина Захарова подала прошение о предоставлении ей убежища в декабре 2022 года. Ранее девушка сообщала, что в стране серьёзные проблемы с очередью на получение гормонозаместительной терапии.
pic.twitter.com/H5BAfjqeYB

— Fem Antiwar Resistance (@femagainstwar) March 1, 2023

A transgender girl from Russia committed suicide in a refugee camp in the Netherlands.  Khina Zakharova applied for asylum in the Netherlands in December 2022.  Earlier, the girl complained that there were serious problems with the queue for hormone replacement therapy in the country.

Khina Zakharova applied for asylum in the country in December 2022. At the time of the application, she needed hormone replacement therapy, the queue for which in the Netherlands, as Khina was informed, was long, with the approximate waiting period of over two years. The burden of accumulated problems turned out to be unbearable for Khina, resulting in tragedy.

This terrible case exposes the problem of access to psychological and medical care in refugee camps. Representatives of the LGBTQ+ community are at high risk when it comes to suicide. According to one study, 41 percent of transgender people have attempted suicide. Such risks increase many times over in the situations of extreme uncertainty and stress in which refugees often find themselves.

Maria (not her real name), an LGBTQ+ activist who left Russia for Europe, believes that the lack of timely psychological support and negative social pressure might be leading causes of suicides in the community:

Большинство людей в России относится к ЛГБТК-сообществу предвзято, не вникая в детали. В случае с трансгендерными людьми эта предвзятость напрямую влияет на скорость социальной адаптации человека. Несмотря на то, что в Европе ситуация в целом лучше, всегда можно столкнуться с людьми, отвергающими тебя.

Most people in Russia are biased towards the LGBTQ+ community, reluctant to understand the pains and struggles of the community. In the case of transgender people, this bias directly affects the speed of a person's social adaptation. Despite the fact that the situation in Europe is generally better, one can often face people who reject them.

The Netherlands is a country known for its tolerance and attention to the problems of the LGBTQ+ community, as well as for its respect for the idea of psychological support for everyone who feels the need for it. However, LGBTQ+ people living in this country evidently face certain problems. According to Wouter Kikens, doctoral researcher at the University of Groningen: “The number of reported cases of discrimination and violence against LGBTQ+ people has increased from 428 in year 2009 to 2471 in 2021. […] Seven out of ten LGBTQ+ people are subjected to discriminatory violence, both verbal and physical.” Kikens believes that although in general the Netherlands is a fairly tolerant country, it has a lot to learn from other cultures in respect to its attitude to the LGBTQ+ community. For example, berdashi or people with two souls have long lived in the Indigenous peoples of North America, identified as people of the “third sex” and they were fully accepted in the community.

What can possibly be done to prevent tragedies like Khina's suicide from happening?

First of all, it is necessary that a person going through a difficult period in life should be able to find timely help, at least remotely. In particular, for English/Dutch speakers in the Netherlands, there is a telephone hotline for psychological support for suicide prevention: 0800-0113 (English/Dutch). There is also a local Support Service telephone line (0800-0333), which employs multilingual specialists, including Russian-speaking ones. They also have an application.

Further, the help services need volunteers who can support those who do not speak the language of the given country, as well as help to find the right medical specialist. Some of the volunteers must be ready to accompany new arrivals to a doctor's appointment as an interpreter.

Finally, the direct participation of the state authorities of the hosting country is equally important. Medical hormone therapy is vital for transgender people, and psychological assistance can be attributed to basic needs in this case, along with food and other basic necessities.

The number one cause of suicide is untreated depression. Depression is treatable, and suicide is preventable. You can get help from confidential support lines for the suicidal and those in emotional crisis. Visit Befrienders.org to find a suicide prevention helpline in your country. 

Originally published on Global Voices

“No to war” is written on a snow in Kyrgyzstan. Photo by author, used with permission by Global Voices.

Russia's invasion of Ukraine has ruined the lives of millions of people. First and foremost, it destroyed the peaceful existence of Ukrainians, now fearlessly fighting for their country and fleeing from the war in astonishing numbers. But it has also fundamentally changed the lives of many people from the aggressor country, Russia and its dictator-ruled neighbor, Belarus.

The Russian regime assumed it had a carte blanche to increase repressions internally, thus squeezing out the last remnants of the open dissent.  The only way out left for some Russians who did not agree to be complicit in the war was to flee abroad, to the world where no one was waiting for them.

Read more: Anti-war Russians find a new home in Turkey

Global Voices spoke to Russians and Belarusians who found it impossible to stay in the country that started the invasion.

In Poland, the emigrants do not equal the country they are running from

Poland has had difficult relations with Russia. It opened its doors to the fleeing Ukrainians and is building a wall on the border with Russia in Kaliningrad.

Shortly after the invasion, Elena found herself in Warsaw because it was easier for her to go there: “There is no need for sworn translations; there are opportunities to apply for a residence permit for work or study.” For her, this departure is a one-way ticket: “I have lived in Belarus since childhood. After the post-election crackdown on the protests in Belarus in 2020, it became scary to stay there.”

Soon it will be a year since the war started, and for many Russian speakers life is divided into before and after. Elena has long accepted that the war will not end tomorrow.

It can be difficult and scary for people to run from Russia, where the media writes about “two hundred years of organized hatred.” Even before the Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, state-aligned media had been eagerly reporting about “Russophobia” in the “collective West.”  But the reality is very different from the picture created by propaganda. Elena notes:

The Poles have suffered enough from the imperial habits of first Tsarist Russia, then the Soviet Union. But they do not equal the country  and the people.

Elena is now working and studying in Poland, although it is difficult have long-term plans. She adds:

Our world is beautiful. Despite the inadequate Imperials and their fan club. And the world is big, you don't have to live in a country that hurts you.

Kyrgyzstan has become a new home

Kyrgyzstan is a former Soviet republic located in Central Asia. Previously, for economic reasons, the flow of migrants from Kyrgyzstan to Russia was numerous, but now, for political reasons, this flow has turned into opposite direction.

Lesya chose this country because of its proximity; other reasons being that there are a lot of people that understand Russian, the country has familiar food and climate, and relatively comfortable prices:

First of all, I wanted to run away, no matter where. We didn't plan on the timing of how long we'll be here. Ideally, I would like not to depend financially on my country [Russia] and find myself a place where there will be a “home,” which we have been deprived of.

Despite the fact that Kyrgyz culture and some of the traditions were oppressed during the Soviet period (as everywhere, Russification was encouraged), the Kyrgyz managed to remain their traditions, which according to Lesya, include maintaining openness, the ability to live and solve problems together as well as hospitality. Lesya notes:

Now I don’t shy away from the sight of the police, I don’t delete objectionable words in instant messengers, as I did in Moscow, where the police could easily check your phone in the subway.

She hopes that someday it will be possible to return home again, but this may not happen in the coming years:

I have already gotten used to the idea that such terrible things as war are happening “at home,” in my homeland. I was depressed for a long time, I was ashamed to do anything, draw, enjoy life, because now someone is suffering at this very moment.

Georgia: let's move on

Georgia is very careful in its political relations with Russia today. It has a history of Russian invasion in 2008, and some latest polls showed that many Georgians do not support a non-visa regime between two countries.  At the same time, it is focused on joining NATO and the EU. But it was Georgia that received a lot of departing Russians. Although the official language of the country is Georgian, many people here speak Russian and English, which makes life much easier for new migrants.

Among them is a girl ჯუნო [which reads as Juno], who, until February 24, despite all the problems in her native country, never imagined herself living outside of Russia: “The need to choose another country for a long stay took me by surprise. Without an open Schengen visa, the list of options quickly dwindled to a dozen. Georgia won.” There are many reasons: “First of all, I have been here before and understood what this country is like; Russians can still stay here for a whole year without a residence permit; there is comfortable taxation and the ability to open a bank account and register an individual entrepreneur; and, finally, there are wonderful people, amazing nature, mild climate,” she says.

Over a month and a half since the announcement of mobilization in Russia, Georgia received more than 700,000 Russians, of which 100,000 people stayed. ჯუნო notes: “In all the time that I have been here, I have never faced aggression. The locals are either neutral or friendly, and I'm grateful for that attitude.”

Read more: Georgia facing backlash over possible flight resumption with Russia

Some Russian companies relocated all their employees, along with their families, to Georgia. Even before 2022, the country offered the “Work from Georgia” program to support the country’s economy: foreigners working remotely were invited to participate in it.

ჯუნო also works remotely and keeps in touch with family and friends who have remained in Russia: “I can say that in Russian society, many are fooled by propaganda, and people need time to figure it out. I keep in touch with Russia because my family and friends are there who couldn't leave. And that is why I have to be very careful in choosing the wording in my answers to them.”

Israel: the Promised Land

Valeria considers her story banal: “I left Russia because I can’t and don’t want to be silent, and I don’t want to go to jail for this either.” She had no relatives or friends in Israel and, despite the existing right to obtain citizenship of the country (because of her Jewish descent), before the war, she connected her life only with Russia, never having visited Israel even as a tourist.

According to her, many Israelis worry that most of those who came after the start of the war are those who would simply wait it out, and leave soon. Some Russians leave after receiving an Israeli passport, while others plan to stay.

In Russia, Valeria went to protests up to the last moment. But now she no longer believes that those who support the war can be persuaded. She closely followed the political agenda and watched the flourishing of state propaganda in the country, so the stage of acceptance of what was happening came quickly.

Read more: ‘We are asking for forgiveness that we know we will never receive': In Russia, people are bringing flowers to monuments of Ukrainians

“It is important for me that my daughter grows up as a person who values herself, her freedom, including freedom of speech. I want it to be up to her to decide where she will live, what she will do, what ideas she will support. Unfortunately, now in Russia people are deprived of these opportunities,” adds Valeria.