of Russians tell why they chose exile after the invasion of Ukraine

By plane, by train or by car, they left suddenly, with a suitcase for all luggage. Since the start of the invasion of Ukraine, decided by Vladimir Putin on February 24, many Russians have left their country. The war and its bombardments were, however, thousands of kilometers away from their daily lives.

Some, however, feared the economic crisis, a consequence of Western sanctions imposed on Moscow. Others have fled the repression put in place by the government. Foreign nationals who have founded a family in Russia have made the same choice, following the recommendations of their respective governments.

A Frenchman and four Russians tell franceinfo why they chose exile, uprooting their families or leaving them behind.

Nikita, 26, exiled in Paris: “I didn’t want to take the risk of being mobilized”

“When the war started, I found myself in a constant state of anxiety. In Russia, the prospects were already not very good for a liberal like me. My girlfriend is French, I studied in Europe and I worked for an American company in Saint Petersburg. Even if I am not an activist, I had in my plans, in the more or less long term, to find a job abroad and to move. Without urgency.

The invasion of Ukraine changed everything. I realized that the borders were in danger of being closed, that the Russian economy was going to be hit hard, that censorship was going to reach an unprecedented level… Above all, I didn’t want to take the risk of being mobilized for the war in Ukraine. When the last independent radio station in Moscow was shut down by the authorities, my father said to me, ‘It’s time for you to go.’

“In a few days, the power showed that Russia had become a hostile country for people who have opinions like mine.”

European airspace was already closed to Russian planes and many foreign companies had stopped serving our country. Fortunately, there are only 200 km between Saint-Petersburg and Finland, where I have friends. I am lucky to have a Finnish visa. On March 5, I took the euros I had left, put my computer and some clothes in a backpack and boarded a train for Helsinki. The first thing I did when I left the station was to demonstrate against the war in Ukraine.

Now I have joined my girlfriend in Paris. I live with her but money will quickly become a problem: without a residence permit, I cannot look for work in France. I wish I could go back to Russia one day when Putin is no longer in power. But it is impossible to know when this will be possible.”

Vlad, 50, exiled in the Paris region: “We couldn’t take the risk of ending up in prison”

“Life in Russia was becoming more and more dangerous for my family. I am a documentary producer and my wife is an activist and actress with the Teatr.doc [un théâtre indépendant critique du Kremlin]. When we saw that the repression of the opposition was getting tougher, that the police were going to knock on the doors of those who were demonstrating against the war, we decided to leave the country. We have a 12 year old daughter and an 18 month old son, we couldn’t risk ending up in jail.

“Vladimir Putin’s regime has shown its true nature: it is moving more and more towards dictatorship. I didn’t want my son to grow up in a country where school teaches him government propaganda.”

Miraculously, we managed to get an emergency visa for my son. On March 7, we left leaving everything behind us: our apartment in Moscow, our car, our belongings… We only took what fit in four suitcases and boarded a flight for Istanbul.

It is a new reality to which it is difficult to adjust. Fortunately, I have friends in France who helped us get to the Paris region and can put us up for a while. But there are still a lot of steps to take: opening a bank account, trying to see how I can work here… Maybe later we will move to another place or one day it will be possible to return to Russia. At this stage, it is impossible to project ourselves. At least in France my family is safe.”

Nigina, 38, exiled in Istanbul: “This suitcase is my whole life now”

“Before the conflict, I had never considered leaving Russia. As a freelance journalist, I worked with several independent national media and foreign media: the Russian language is my working tool. But at the beginning of March, we learned that a censorship law was about to be voted in. It prohibits the use of the word ‘war’ to refer to the invasion of Ukraine.If we do so, journalists and citizens alike risk up to 15 years in prison.

“I understood that I could no longer exercise my profession freely in Russia. The day before the adoption of the censorship law, I left the country.”

Plane tickets were all ten times, twenty times more expensive than before. I was able to find a flight to Uzbekistan, then I went to Turkey. I took a suitcase with my camera, my computer and some clothes. This suitcase is my whole life now. When I left, I didn’t realize that I was leaving everything behind. I don’t know if I will be able to return to Russia – where my mother and my sister are staying – or when. Even as I say these words, I still can’t come to terms with the idea.

There are rumors that the government may prevent Russians who have gone into exile from returning, because we are ‘traitors’. It seems unthinkable, but the invasion of Ukraine seemed unthinkable a few weeks ago… We are neither refugees nor really expatriates. But I can’t complain. Unlike the Ukrainians, I did not leave my country to escape the bombs.”

Yanna, 32, exiled in Nice: “I left for fear of being stuck behind a new iron curtain”

“Until the last minute, I wanted to stay in my country. I lived in Europe for part of my childhood, but I returned to study in Russia and then make my career there, creating the first agency for the promotion of courts -films of the country. I wanted to help young filmmakers. For several years now, I have seen the censorship that targets culture worsen. Those who criticize the government are ‘blacklisted’: they are not granted funding or distribution. And because I collaborates with some of these filmmakers, I know that I am exposed [à la nouvelle loi].

When the war broke out, I still thought I would stay in Russia to pursue these projects. My father, who is of Ukrainian origin and lives in kyiv, called me during the first days of the offensive and told me: ‘We have to leave now because the borders will be closed and I will no longer be able to talk to you’. to help.’ I left for fear of being stuck behind another iron curtain. Fortunately, I had a tourist visa for the Schengen area. On March 4, we flew to Turkey with a friend.

“It took me eight hours to find a plane ticket for less than a thousand euros.”

Once in Istanbul, it became known that Russian bank cards will soon stop working abroad. We went out in the middle of the night to try to empty our accounts. Between the withdrawal fees and the exchange rate, we lost a little more than half of what we had.

I am very lucky because my family has a house in Nice. I moved here for now, but my mother stayed in Russia with my disabled grandparents. My biggest fear is that this war will prevent me from returning for a long time and that they will die while I am away from Russia.”

Paul*, 36, with his family in the Var: “We left with three suitcases, three backpacks and the cat”

“I was a French teacher in Moscow for eight years. It was there that I met my wife, Anna*, with whom we have a five-year-old son. After the first tensions at the border with Ukraine , we started to think about the idea of ​​going to France. In the event of war, we didn’t want to stay in an aggressor country. The morning of the invasion of Ukraine, we woke up to a mixture of bewilderment and pain.

We left because we were scared. Fear of war, of repression of independent media, of an economic crash, of seeing social networks cut off (and with them our access to our relatives in France and to Western sources of information), of being worried about the justice…

“We were afraid of the future that awaited our son.”

I spent the following days dealing with administrative procedures. I am French and my wife had a visa for the Schengen area, but the procedure for obtaining my son’s passport had to be speeded up. On March 11 in the morning, we left by car with three suitcases, three backpacks and the cat. We crossed the border with Estonia on foot, then took another car to the home of a former student. From there, we were able to take a plane to France.

For my wife, leaving leaving everything behind is a real heartbreak. In Moscow, we had a comfortable, middle-class life. Here, we have nothing: neither possessions, nor money, nor work. But we had the luxury of choosing to leave Russia. On our scale, that means starting from scratch. However, we know that we are very lucky because our families can help us. It is disproportionate to what Ukrainians go through: those who flee the war in their country have lost everything, including loved ones.

*Names have been changed.