BY HANK REICHMAN

Four journalists associated with an independent Moscow student magazine were sentenced April 12 to two years’ “corrective labor” for creating and posting an online video in which they defended young Russians’ freedom of assembly.  Armen Aramyan, Natasha Tyshkevich, Alla Gutnikova and Volodya Metelkin, participants in the editorial collective of the journal DOXA, had been under house arrest for almost a year after they were detained in April 2021 for posting the three-minute video on YouTube in which they argued that it was illegal to expel and intimidate students for participating in rallies in support of jailed Putin critic Alexei Navalny.  A Moscow court said the video had encouraged “the involvement of minors” in anti-Kremlin protests.

The DOXA Four: Armen Aramyan, Natasha Tyshkevich, Alla Gutnikova and Volodya Metelkin

The video urged young people to protest without fear and pointed out that expelling students for political reasons was unlawful. The Russian communications authority Roskomnadzor demanded the video’s removal.  DOXA complied and removed it.  Nonetheless, the editors were charged under Article 151.2 of Russian law (“involvement of youth in activities that can be harmful to them”).

The sentencing comes amid an unprecedented crackdown on independent media and antiwar dissent. Last month, the Russian parliament passed a law imposing a jail term of up to 15 years for spreading intentionally “fake” news about the military.  Human Rights Watch described the accusations against the four journalists as “baseless”.

DOXA was created by students and university graduates at Moscow’s prestigious Higher School of Economics (HSE) in 2017.  It quickly became the leading independent student media outlet, exposing corruption and systemic sexual harassment in universities across the country.

“We were really the first of our kind.  A leftist, feminist, antiwar paper that was doing investigations.  Students from across the country reached out to us,” Aramyan said.  In 2019, the HSE cut its ties with DOXA after it voiced support for students who had taken part in the Moscow opposition protests that year.

After the four were arrested, nearly 300 scholars from around the world, including the US, signed an open letter calling the charges against the four journalists “preposterous.”  The statement described DOXA as “a Russian student-run popular journal dedicated to critiques of the modern university.  They have served as a clearinghouse for disseminating radical philosophy, especially feminist, Marxist, and anarchist voices.  It also hosts editorials about the sprawling Russian university system, highlights student protests, and organizes solidarity for students harassed for speaking out.”

Here’s how Mikhail Lobanov, Associate Professor at Lomonosov Moscow State University and Co-Chair of the “University Solidarity” labor union, described the group and the state’s reaction to it in a post, “Who  Are DOXA and What Is the Case Against Them?” on the website Lefteast, which publishes materials from East European leftists in English:

DOXA has always been not only a great magazine, but also an activist environment from which ideas and projects have scattered to various fields and directions.

Since its birth, DOXA has taken on such a pace and rhythm that it has been feared by the authorities.  At first the former directors of the Higher School of Economics (Kuzminov and Kasamara) tried to have a bite at the magazine and broke their teeth.  DOXA only grew stronger and better known.

Then the security apparatus took up the cause.  Almost a year ago, after a series of searches, a criminal case was fabricated against four DOXA editors.  DOXA, as the country’s main university news channel, closely monitored situations in which university administrators intimidated students who participated in rallies.  Young journalists used their publications to help some students resist illegal pressure and save others from reprisals.  The prosecution built an absurd case on this basis.

The authorities wanted to shut DOXA up with the criminal case and a series of searches.  They had the opposite effect. The team persevered, adapted to the new conditions, and continues to publish news and articles, despite the efforts of Roskomnadzor.  In particular, it highlights the outrage and protest that the Kremlin’s actions in recent weeks have provoked in the academic community.  And, of course, the wave of reaction that administrators are trying to orchestrate.

Despite this repression, DOXA still publishes.  Its Russian-language website is here.

Prior to their sentencing the four journalists were permitted on April 1 to make closing statements.  These have been translated into English and published online by Lefteast.  They are courageous and compelling and, for me at least, offer a small beacon of hope in today’s dismal and dangerous times.  I urge you to read them in full, but here are some excerpts from two of these eloquent statements.

From the statement of Armen Aramyan [Translated by Ivan Gololobov. Edited by Patricia Manos]:

There are not many places left in Russia now where I can speak freely about what is happening in our country.  I would like to take the opportunity to say a few words in open court.  A month ago, Russia launched the so-called “special military operation” in Ukraine.  Thousands of civilians have died because of military actions in Ukraine; five thousand people, according to preliminary data, died in Mariupol alone.  Before I make my final statement, I would like to announce a moment of silence in memory of those who have died in this war.  I believe that every public event in Russia should now begin with such a moment.

[Armen holds a minute of silence, although the judge repeatedly requests him to resume his speech]

Your honors,

For twelve months, my friends and I have been under virtual house arrest.  The police searches of our apartments that took place at 6 am on April 14, 2021, divided our lives into “before” and “after.”

All this past year we could not study, work, meet friends, or live our normal lives.  In addition to working on the journal, I have not been able to do my research.  Most importantly, because of the arrest, I have not been able to see my beloved girlfriend for a year now, who in recent weeks was forced to evacuate her family from Kyiv.

Alla and Volodya had to drop out of their last year at the university.  Natasha lost her job.  What was all this for?

This is all because of a short video that we published in January 2021—a video in which we simply appealed to the authorities, as well as to universities and schools, with one simple demand: stop intimidating students and schoolchildren, stop threatening them with expulsion for participation in protests.  We also addressed words of support to the students and schoolchildren themselves, who were intimidated by the authorities and the administrations of their educational institutions for several weeks.

I am 24, I recently graduated with a bachelor’s degree, then a master’s degree.  I know Russian universities, and I know the atmosphere of fear and self-censorship that dominates them.  Even in the most daring, freest universities young people are taught this mindset: you are still young, don’t stick your head out, don’t risk your life, we’ll expel you, we’ll ruin your life.  I have seen how these often exaggerated and absurd threats affect young people.  They take away our freedom and the feeling that we can change something.

Right now, fear and self-censorship are the mainstays of this regime.  Every time people begin to unite for the sake of common goals, every time they feel that they have the power to change something, the state immediately perceives this as a threat.  For this regime, any opportunity for people to freely associate is a threat, because it cannot govern society, it can only govern a collection of individuals.  The authorities immediately react to any attempts to unite with the aid of repression.  The main goal of repression is, of course, fear. . . .

Self-censorship is not just an order from above by the leadership of the university.  Self-censorship is something we do, not them.  This is how we respond to fear.  Political terror works only if we agree to the rules of the game, only if we are really afraid.  The state cannot repress us all, it needs demonstrative victims.

All that society can oppose to this fear is solidarity.  This is a mysterious, irrational feeling that, in fact, we are not alone.  Even when we act separately, behind us there are thousands like ourselves, who feel that this is a common cause.  They want to come help you, even if they are expelled, even if they are crushed, if they are kidnapped and tortured by the police.

Solidarity— this was the idea behind our video.  In it, of course, we did not call for any rallies— we just wanted other students and schoolchildren to feel that they were not alone, that they had support.  So that threats from university and school authorities did not sow the destructive seed of self-censorship in them.

Our magazine has never censored or compromised itself because ultimately, self-censorship leads to helplessness.  Irrational fear makes you yourself refuse to act and create change.  When you constantly strike compromises with a strong opponent, you gradually retreat, and eventually you find yourself on the edge of a cliff.  And at the end there is no other way out— just jump off or wait to be pushed off of it. . . .

Twelve months of prosecution, house arrest, dozens of interrogations, dozens of court hearings, 212 volumes of a criminal case that we were forced to read—all this was a rather severe test for our idea of solidarity, the idea that together, we can do a lot.  But I think we managed—from the first day, we saw how hundreds of thousands of people supported us, how students and teachers of Russian universities, despite intimidation, came out to support, how hundreds of people continue to come to our court appearances a year after the case started.  We survived, we kept our sanity, we didn’t give up.

Now, as our state has unleashed the so-called “special operation,” the stakes have risen very high.  Our state is no longer just an idle policeman waving his club around, it is now a real dictatorship, it is a war criminal.  The state succeeded in intimidating a lot of people, it silenced and prevented them from speaking out about this war.  And these days, I only think about one thing: how to confront such a strong fear.  How to continue to act and support other people when we all want to run away, hide in a cocoon, pretend that none of this is happening.  The Russians do not support the war— they are so strongly against this war that some of them cannot even believe that it is happening before their eyes.

Of course, I can tell you what I think about our case.  That this prosecution is meaningless, that in principle, it is impossible to prove it.  The prosecution did not find a single teenager who saw our video, went to the rally, contracted Coronavirus and died, because such people do not exist.  But I already have little understanding of what words must be spoken in this court in order for them to be heard.

Therefore, regardless of the verdict, I appeal to young people across the country—the same appeal that the expert for the prosecution considered a call to go to specific rallies: “Do not be afraid and do not stand aside.”  Fear is the only thing that keeps us apart.  In recent weeks, we have seen many examples of heroism, when young people, often young women, continued to take to the streets and protest against the war, despite tens of thousands of arrests and searches.  They were tortured in police stations, but did not give up and continued to fight.  These days, we have no moral right to stop, give up, and get scared.  Today, our every word must be strong enough to stop bullets.

The main question for our generation is not just one of how we can remain decent people under fascism, how to do the right thing and not do the wrong thing.  The question is how we can build solidarity and unite in a society that has been mercilessly destroyed for several decades.  “We are the youth, and we will definitely win,” are the words that sound at the end of our video.  And indeed who if not us?

From the statement of Volodya Metelkin [Translated by Yana Lysenko. Edited by Jan Surman]:

“The authorities have declared war against the youth, but we are the youth, and we will definitely win”—this is the closing statement of our video . . .

The authorities have declared war against the youth.  This metaphor of “war” with the youth, and its meaning, are pretty obvious and don’t need a long explanation: young people in Russia are left with few prospects and little hope for the future.  It has been taken from us.  If you are a young, decent person, and want to experience personal growth, get an education, work fairly, have any ambition at all, you’re advised to leave Russia.  They tell you, the sooner you leave, the better.

Today, a year after the start of this case, we can say with anger and even with hatred that things have gotten much worse.  The authorities have declared war in the direct sense of the term.  We are not talking about a metaphorical war with the youth now.  We are talking about a devastating, horrifying war against Ukraine and its civilians. . . .

The authorities declared war on Boris Romanchenko.  This elderly man lived through four concentration camps, Buchenwald among them.  In March 2022, a Russian shell hit his home in Kharkov and killed him.  The authorities declared war on Boris Semenov, a 96 year-old veteran of the Second World War, who was awarded a medal for the liberation of Prague.  Now he is once again in Prague—this time as a refugee—after he was forced to leave his home in Dnepropetrovsk Oblast because of the shelling.  He is still waiting for housing in Prague, even though he was offered help in Berlin.  There, he can live out the rest of his life peacefully. . . .

They have declared war on women and children.  Russia is indiscriminately bombing Ukrainian cities, including schools, hospitals, and maternity hospitals.  Journalists, human rights organizations, and governments all over the world have acknowledged this.  Every day we see a huge number of photos and videos from Ukraine.  We are literally watching this war online. . . .

The authorities have declared war on activists and journalists who want to speak openly about what is happening because it is impossible for them to remain silent.  Years from now, we will be asked what we have done in this time, how we resisted what is currently happening.  We will have to answer to the next generation.  Meanwhile, the repression in Russia continues: more than 200 administrative cases and several criminal cases were filed under new articles that were invented under this war.  Lawyers rightly call this war censorship.  The authorities continue to scare us, hinting at the abolition of the moratorium on the death penalty.  There are those who are not silent, but very few of us. . . .

We have gone way, way beyond Ukrainian nationalists now.  We need a denazification and decolonization of Russia.  Rejection of imperial chauvinism, of mocking the languages, cultures, and symbols of other countries and other peoples of Russia.  It is the lack of empathy for those who live near you that starts wars. . . .

We have stopped taking responsibility for what is happening in our country, and our country has launched the worst war in its history.  We must correct these mistakes.  We must understand that nothing is more important than politics now.  Politics understood as participation in one’s own life, as self-government, as a willingness to accept responsibility, and as concern for what is going on around us.  All of this is the foundation on which we need to build a new Russian society.  The exodus to the cozy worlds of private interest and consumption in an authoritarian society has led us to terrible consequences.  This must end and never happen again. . . .

To conclude on a personal note, let me say that since this terrible assault on Ukraine began I have been asked periodically what, as a scholar of Russian history and an admirer of so much of Russian culture, Russian tradition, and not least of all the Russian revolutionary legacy, I think of that country today.  Well, I can now respond to those who ask: read these statements; admire these young journalists, for they represent the Russia that so many years ago first attracted me when I was their age and members of my generation confronted a different immoral and monstrous war unleashed by my government in Southeast Asia, albeit absent the levels of repression faced bravely by these young Russians.  If only more of us now had a small portion of their courage and their passion.

Contributing editor Hank Reichman is professor emeritus of history at California State University, East Bay; former AAUP vice-president and president of the AAUP Foundation; and from 2012-2021 Chair of AAUP’s Committee A on Academic Freedom and Tenure. His book, The Future of Academic Freedom, based in part on posts to this blog, was published in 2019.  His Understanding Academic Freedom has recently been published.