The precariousness of their position, and the precarious lifeline of real reporting they produce against dire odds, was brought home to me at a recent conference on Russian exile journalism. The incident led to the Russian president launching a brutal war in Ukraine, banning the few remaining news organizations that provide reliable, independent information, and forcing hundreds of reporters from Moscow and other cities to flee their homeland. It happened almost two years after.
They, like hundreds of thousands of other Russians who have left the country since the full-scale invasion, are considered “scum” and “traitors” by President Vladimir Putin, and their departure is a “no” for Russian society. It will be a necessary self-cleaning action. Many left the country believing they would be able to return home within weeks or months. Few still cling to that hope. Moscow has issued arrest warrants for some exiled journalists and is suspected of poisoning at least two others.
The conference I attended was held in a packed auditorium in Amsterdam. Amsterdam is one of the few European locations where Russian journalists have revived the facsimiles of pre-war reporting. These reporters, editors, and videographers continue to focus on the war and events in Russia, where their work is considered a criminal act and their sources face the threat of imprisonment.
Russia’s independent media in exile, once profitable, has been cut off from its main base of subscribers and advertisers, and its support is prohibited. Their business model no longer works.
To maintain coverage, they rely primarily on philanthropy. This means thousands of donors, mostly foundations and individuals from Western countries. For some broadcasters, such gifts now account for three-quarters of the income needed to pay for TV studios, equipment, travel and salaries.
The resulting work is accessed by millions of Russians through YouTube, Telegram, and other remaining pinholes of uncensored content.
This is an important undertaking that allows straight news tendrils to penetrate the Kremlin’s thicket of lies. Its death will mean that Putin’s brainwashing project, which has already captured and coerced many of his subjects, will become unchallenged.
But the feeling that they are working on borrowed time is what underlies everything I hear from Russian journalists. This is not only because of uncertain funding, but also because of the Kremlin’s increasing efforts to suppress information that does not reflect its generous propaganda.
“In 2022, Russian websites were blocked four times,” said Moscow Times publisher Alexander Gubsky, explaining the cat-and-mouse game by regime censors to stifle free press. “Last year I was blocked four times a week.”
Mikhail Fishman is a well-known host of a weekly show on the independent channel TV Rain, which was banned from broadcasting after the invasion and dozens of staff fled. It currently functions from Amsterdam. Fishman’s show attracts well over half a million viewers on YouTube and other platforms.
“Russian exile journalism remains important,” he said. This work conveys an important message to those who oppose the regime and the war: you are not alone.
Echoes of that message surfaced recently with news that an anti-war candidate announced he would challenge Putin in next month’s sham presidential election. Candidate Boris Nadezhdin was predictably banned by the Russian Election Commission, which issued its ruling on Thursday. The fact that tens of thousands of Russians lined up in public to express support and sign his voting petition signaled potential opposition to the regime.
Putin’s main goal is not to convince the Russian people that he is right, that his government is efficient, or that the war is just. It is to intimidate them into apathy, indifference, or silence. In that regard, he has had some success. Remaining opponents will be forced to choose between remaining silent or risking imprisonment.
For Russians who have left the country, the choice is often unbearable. Often that means leaving parents and children behind. Fishman and other high-profile defectors would face certain charges if they returned. Still, they are undaunted.
Derk Sauer, a Dutch media executive who founded the Moscow Times in the 1990s, fled Russia for the first time in more than 30 years shortly after the invasion two years ago, carrying just one suitcase. He was instrumental in establishing a safe harbor in Amsterdam for dozens of exiled Russian journalists and raising funds for their work.
“That’s the $100 million question,” he said. “There’s no big master plan. If they all lose their jobs and become pizza delivery guys, there’s nothing. [Russian-language] Journalism is gone. All you have is publicity. ”