10 March 2022 Jewish News
www.jewishnews.co.uk
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PUTIN’S WAR ON UKRAINE
The Russians risking all by speaking out
Natalya Sindeyeva at an event for Tango with Putin
Harassment of independent Jewish journalists in Russia has been par for the course, hears Adam Decker, as Russia introduces a 15-year jail sentence for the spreading of ‘fake news’ A couple of years ago, arriving back at her Moscow flat after weeks away, serial protester and documentary film-maker Vera Krichevskaya found that she couldn’t log on to her Wi-Fi. She couldn’t even find it. Apartments are tightly packed in the city, so dozens of connections were available, but hers wasn’t there. “I reset my router, but still couldn’t find my network.” She called her broadband provider. “No, it’s there,” she was told. “You renamed it last week. It’s the one called HeilHitler.” Someone had hacked into her home broadband to do so. “It was made specially for me, because I’m openly Jewish.” Antisemitic harassment of independent Jewish journalists such as Krichevskaya, 47, has been par for the course in Russia over recent years, and she is one of dozens of Russian Jews associated with criticism of Vladimir Putin. None have been more iconic than opposition leader Boris Nemtsov, who was assassinated in 2015. Jewish Russian film-maker Zosya Rodkevich suffered antisemitic death threats just for filming Nemtsov. Mikhail Fishman, former Moscow Times editor and another leading Jewish Russian journalist, has also been critical of the Kremlin. This weekend, he tried to leave Russia for Georgia with his family. Entry was denied with no explanation given. Another Jewish Russian journalist, Anna Mongayt, described as “a star” by Krichevskaya, grew up in the Ukrainian city of Odessa. She received death threats in 2019 from a far-right group after she interviewed a lesbian couple. Like Krichevskaya and Fishman, she worked at Dozhd TV (TV Rain), until it was finally forced offline last week. In recent days, just as Ukrainian refugees have fled Russian bombs, 150 independent journalists have fled Russia itself. Krichevskaya got one of the last planes out. The exodus follows “the death of inde-
pendent journalism in Russia” after the Russian parliament – often likened to a nodding dog – unanimously approved a law meting out 15-year jail sentences to those disseminating news about Russia’s armed forces that differs even slightly from the official Kremlin line. It kills what little non-state news there was left and has led to the closure not just of Dozhd but of news website Znak and Ekho Moskvy (Echo of Moscow) radio station. Two others have said they will no longer cover Russia’s invasion of Ukraine to protect their journalists from criminal prosecution. The latest law is the coffin’s final nail. Last year, many independent Russian media outlets were overnight and without warning branded “foreign agents”. The list of those targeted is long: Meduza, PASMI, VTimes, The Insider, RFE/RL’s Russian Service, Open Media, MBK Media, even the BBC, to name but a few. Advertisers withdrew, landlords served eviction notices, and many were forced to close. Krichevskaya describes state media journalists as “slaves and soldiers” who follow Putin around in a Kremlin plane, covering his foreign visits. Some, she even calls “TV killers, who provoked this war by brainwashing”. Among them is a Jewish pro-Kremlin, anti-Ukraine propagandist now on the EU’s sanctions list, whose Italian villa has just been seized and his You-
Tube channel shut down. “He spreads hatred,” says Krichevskaya. When sanctioned, he likened the EU’s behaviour to that of the Nazis. I ask about her relationship with state journalists in Russia. “Today, I feel a concrete wall between us,” she says, although she has known many of them for years. “Before, they would do me favours, like provide me with archive footage. Now, I don’t think they would even talk to me in the street.” Krichevskaya saw trouble brewing years ago and moved to London in 2014, just after Russia annexed Crimea. “It was clear then that it wouldn’t be a normal life, especially for my sons. There was already brainwashing in schools. I hated it.” When she left Russia again last week, it may have been for the last time. “The skies were closed already. There were only a few ways out. I flew to Istanbul, then to Tel Aviv. I have family here and know the country well. So many are arriving here from Russia – I want to meet them, talk to them, support them.” She describes herself as “proactively Jewish” and a “pessimist”, yet she has just directed Tango with Putin, a 90-minute documentary on Natalya Sindeyeva, the “insanely optimistic” founder of Dozhd, which aired on the BBC last week (its release had been planned for months).
Above: Natalya Sindeyeva, Dozhd TV founder and, right, director Vera Krichevskaya
“Jews don’t have optimism at all,” says Krichevskaya, laughing. “It’s not in our DNA!” She’s joking, yet it is a Jewish trait to question, I suggest. “Of course! We’re the ones to get answers – what’s happening, why is it happening, what will happen next? That is in our DNA, because we survived so many tragedies.” What are Russians being told about Ukraine? “I talked to my mother’s Jewish friend last night. He’s 80. He told me Ukrainian fascists are bombing [the Ukrainian city of ] Mariupol. ‘That’s why we [Russians] have to eliminate Ukrainian Nazis.’ That’s what Russian people know from state TV.” How does she see the war in Ukraine ending? “I’ve lived in Ukraine. I know Ukrainians. It’s an historical mistake to start this war; it’s impossible to win. It’s a 40 million population, all united against this aggression, around the fight. “We were all Soviet, all raised on Second World War mythology – books, films, lessons in school. We learned about resistance. Ukrainians identify as heroes who sacrificed their lives against the Nazis. This mythology drives them enormously. It’s going to be the same now. I don’t think this war can end. It’s a catastrophe.” Her concerns are many, not least to support the dozens of good Jewish Russian journalists now facing a year’s wait to gain Israeli citizenship, something she thinks the authorities could expedite. As for herself? “I’m so busy, I have no time to process anything. I need two weeks of silence.” Before that, what does she say to our Jewish readers, many of whom have connections with Israel? She pauses, then says: “We see how easily and how fast it might happen again – with us. You understand what I mean?” I nod. Every Jew understands what she means. “Politicians don’t learn lessons at all.” She bites her lip. I thank her for her bravery and professionalism. Where she goes from here, neither of us knows. Tango with Putin is available to watch on BBC iPlayer
