In Russia, more and more men are escaping to other countries, fearing that they will have to kill and die on Putin’s orders. Even abroad, however, persecution and imprisonment threaten them. DW interviewed two of the thousands of defectors.
Discreetly dressed, hood down, the young Russian looks around. He’s afraid of being discovered, a feeling he’s been living with for the past few months in Georgia’s capital, Tbilisi. That’s why he avoids divulging his real name, asking to be called Nikita.
Until February, he attended university in Moscow. As is not uncommon in the country, he had a contract with the armed forces: the Ministry of Defense paid for his studies and guaranteed him a place in the student house. In return, he pledged to serve in the army after his studies.
“At the time I signed the contract out of stupidity. Several things were not clear to me. I thought: ‘OK, I’ll lose three years in the army, but in return I’ll leave with my higher education.”
When he received the call-up order, Nikita wanted to leave the army, but the institution rejected his request and proposed a deal: “They transferred me to a leadership department, where I would help the commander with the paperwork. Then in September they gave me another post: I would work with military technology to repel the enemy in case of an offensive.”
Realizing that he could be sent to Ukraine at any moment, he decided to leave the country and flee to neighbouring Georgia. “I didn’t want to go to war. Defecting was my only chance.”
He is aware of the risks, “that I will have to hide from Russia for the rest of my life, that I will never be able to come back”: “I am not afraid of dying or ending up in prison. But I simply don’t want to have to kill anyone,” he explains.
Nikita is not an isolated case: human rights activists have filed more than a thousand lawsuits for alleged desertion, but the real number of deserters is likely much higher, says Grigory Swerdlin of Idite Lesom, a Russian NGO – whose name translates as “Send Yourself” – that helps military service objectors escape abroad.
A lottery called war
Some fear mobilization, others were already at the front and no longer want to fight, Swerdlin explains: “We hear many reports about the chaos at the front. Sometimes no one knows where the commanders are. Others say they were simply dumped in the open, without any sense of direction or command. In other words, no one teaches the recruits anything, the training is just shooting once with a machine gun.”
Especially in the third quarter of 2022, when the mobilization began, several recruits reported on social networks the irregularities in the training camps and at the front. Something Igor Sandzhiev knows first-hand.
The 46-year-old Russian laborer, who now lives in Uralsk in western Kazakhstan, is keen to disclose his real name because he wants his story to be known. It all started when he was summoned by the army, supposedly for a check of his personal data.
When he arrived at the office, however, Sandzhiev was immediately enlisted: the same evening he was to report to an armed forces training camp, and a few weeks later he would be at the front. Feeling like he was caught in a trap, he decided to run away.
“For me, it was a question of all or nothing. I thought: ‘Either I go to prison for several years for abandoning the deployment, or I die somewhere in Ukraine. I’d rather go to jail, I don’t want to take any risks, I don’t want to play this lottery called war that President Putin is promoting.”
Military service as a financial lifeline
A deadly lottery: according to (unverifiable) media reports, the invasion of the neighboring country has already cost the lives of tens of thousands of Russians. Many of those moblilized by President Vladimir Putin’s decree in 2022 were parents; many had generous salaries, especially men from poorer regions.
Sandzhiev, a native of the Republic of Kalmykia in southern Russia, confirms this: “Our financial possibilities are limited, salaries are not paid. Going to war is for many the only way to make ends meet: one has a daughter about to go to university, another has taken on a mortgage, a third needs a car.”
Kazakhstan is already his second refuge: first he traveled to Belarus, but was caught by the police and sent back to the training camp near Volgograd. He escaped a second time, now to Uralsk, where he applied for asylum. But he was refused because he did not meet the requirements: according to the sentence.
In addition, the worker was sentenced to six months’ probation for illegal border crossing. He lodged an appeal, which was rejected. Now he is threatened with deportation to Russia.
‘For me, it will be prison or war’
Denis Zhivago, deputy director of the International Human Rights Agency in Kazakhstan, says this is not an isolated case: more than 20 Russians are waiting for their asylum applications to be examined.
“These individuals did not cross the border illegally, they are in Kazakhstan completely legally, but some are wanted [in Russia], others have travel restrictions. They are looking for other ways to get to third countries.”
Igor Sandzhiev is under no illusions about his future: “What awaits me is either prison or war in Ukraine. Right now, the state media is telling Russians that there is a shortage of personnel at the front, and that the men who are qualified should go and fight.”
As for young Nikita, not only is his future in Georgia uncertain, but he doesn’t feel safe there, “not because the people here are bad or anything”: “Georgians don’t treat me badly, like a Russian. But here I am still afraid of the Russian state. Sometimes I have nightmares where my old boss knocks on the door and says, ‘Come with me, I found you.
Despite everything, Igor and Nikita want to try to stay abroad – as long as they can.